First Strike Page 15
The lights went dead.
Chapter Fourteen
0901 Hours, August 30, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Epsilon Eridani System, Oni Underground Facility,
Planet Reach.
The secure storage doors whispered open, and overhead fluorescent lights strobed on. Fred saw motion—but it was only his own reflection in the burnished-mirror finish of the chamber’s stainless-steel walls. Will stepped inside and looked up, then glanced back down the corridor.
The room was a three-by-five-meter vault with steel walls, floor, and ceiling. Their footfalls were muffled as they entered, so the floor had to be at least a quarter meter thick. Along the right and left walls stood secure floor-to-ceiling lockers, and two metal crates sat along the far wall. Every surface was spotless, and every seam had been precision-milled to prevent explosives or acids from penetrating.
“One moment, please,” Kalmiya told them. “I’m attempting to access the locks now. Please stand by.”
Will stood at the doorway and watched their backs. It didn’t make Fred feel any more at ease. The abandoned ONI base was somehow more intimidating than facing the Covenant invasion force overhead. He had walked down these corridors a dozen times during his training on Reach. This base had always been full of people; now, empty, it drove the point home that the Covenant were winning. First the Outer Colonies had been crushed; now Reach. How long before humanity was forced to retreat all the way back to Earth? And after that…what? There would be no other choice but victory or extinction.
Enough. Such musings didn’t help him achieve his immediate objective. He’d leave the long-range strategies to Generals and Admirals. It was time to concentrate on what he did best.
The walls hummed as thick metal bolts inside the lockers retracted, the sound of heavy oiled steel sliding over steel. With a final thump, the sound ceased.
Kalmiya said, “Lockers open and safeties disabled, Spartans. Help yourselves.”
“Secure the outer door, please,” Fred told her.
The door to the hallway eased shut and locked, and Will moved to Fred’s side. Each Spartan opened one of the wall lockers, standing to the side in case there was some leftover booby trap within that Kalmiya had failed to disable.
Fred peered inside and saw a rack of handguns. They weren’t the standard-issue HE pistols; these had oversized barrels—easily 30 percent larger and longer—and they had grips of self-molding plastasteel. He picked one up and hefted it—its balance was barrel-heavy, to be expected from an unloaded pistol. He found three boxes of clips at the bottom of the locker, opened one, and took out a clip. Whatever this new handgun shot, it was high caliber, slugs the size of his thumb. He slid the clip into the gun, and it secured with a satisfying click.
Now it was perfectly balanced, far better than the standard-issue sidearm.
He secured the weapon and turned to see what Will had found.
Will examined a plastic-wrapped rifle, designated as the BR55. He removed the rifle from the locker, ripped off its sheathing, and shouldered it. He nodded with satisfaction.
Unlike the MA5B, this rifle had a longer barrel and stock, with a cutdown muzzle shroud. A scope was mounted on an optics railing along the top of the rifle. Will hefted a clip and inserted it into the receiver.
He shouldered the rifle again and peered through the scope. “Auto zoom, nice.”
Will and Fred then traded and inspected the new weapons. Fred liked the feel of the BR55’s newest version, but wondered how much punch it had—enough, he hoped, to make the tradeoff of having fewer rounds in the clip worth it.
They filled two sacks with the new pistols, rifles, and ammunition, then moved to the footlockers and lifted the lids.
Inside the first locker were satchel charges. Fred grabbed three and looped them over his neck. “I think we can find a use for these.”
Will knelt next to the second footlocker. Within were plastic boxes marked MJOLNIR MARK V followed by a long list of serial numbers. “This must be what Doctor Halsey wanted,” he said.
There was a flutter in the floor—which got Fred’s full attention, because a “flutter” in a solid steel floor meant trouble.
The COM channel opened, and Dr. Halsey’s voice crackled with static: “Get back to the lab ASAP. I might have a way out!”
The vault room flexed, and thunder rumbled through the walls.
“Detonations,” Will said. “They’re coming.”
“Secure those boxes,” Fred ordered. He raced to the closed doors. “Open,” he shouted to Kalmiya and waited as the door slowly eased apart. He scanned up and down the corridor and then ran back toward the lab.
When they got to the medical wing the lights were dead, and Fred saw Kelly’s helmet lights cut through the velvet-rich, dust-filled darkness. She had Dr. Halsey draped over her shoulder. Blood ran from the doctor’s nostrils.
“Her office collapsed,” Kelly told them. “Support beam missed her by a centimeter.”
Dr. Halsey looked up and whispered, “I’m fine. Really.” She pushed away from Kelly, stood, and teetered in place.
Fred scooped her up and set her on the examination table. “With all due respect, ma’am, you’re not.”
Another detonation rippled through the earth—this one stronger than the previous explosion. Fissures snaked through the concrete walls.
Vinh and Isaac bounded into the room. “Enemy contacts at extreme range,” Vinh reported.
“Down,” Dr. Halsey said, and she held a palm-sized data pad for Fred to see. It had a map on its display…but not of this base. “We have to go lower.”
Fred wondered if Dr. Halsey was delirious.
“Down the elevator shaft in Section Sigma,” she explained. “We’ll seal it behind us. We can’t let them follow.”
“Kelly, take point,” Fred ordered. He grabbed two of the new magnum pistols, loaded them, and then tossed them to Kelly, along with three extra clips. “I guess you get to test these.”
Kelly gazed at the new weapons and gave a low whistle.
Fred opened the bags with the new rifles and handed them out to his team. “Will, you mule the extra parts and ammo.”
“Roger,” Will replied and slung them over his shoulders.
“Those satchels, over there,” Dr. Halsey said and waved to four duffel bags. “Medical supplies. Food and water. We’ll need them, too.”
Will grabbed them as well.
“Just a few more things,” Dr. Halsey whispered. “We can’t let them get into ONI’s records.” She tapped her pad once and then said to Kalmiya, “Begin Operation White Glove. Irradiate all computer memory crystal. Code file access Beta-Foxtrot-99874.” Dr. Halsey closed her eyes as if she were concentrating, and she whispered, “Not all AIs have the fail-safe option, my dear Kalmiya…just the ones that matter.”
“I understand, Doctor.” There was a pause, and the AI spoke again, her voice sad. “Voice and fingerprint accepted and verified. Fail-safe code verified. It has been…a pleasure working with you, Doctor Halsey.”
“The pleasure has been mine, Kalmiya.” She stood straighter and said, “Fail-safe override access: ‘Ragnarok.’ Give us a three-minute countdown.”
A three-minute counter appeared in the corner of Fred’s heads-up display.
Dr. Halsey turned to him. “I’ve activated the explosives cache under this base, which will level the complex. We have to get below, to the original titanium mine tunnels.”
Fred wished she had consulted with him before she had given them only three minutes. Then again, Dr. Halsey knew what was at stake, what secrets were hidden in this base, and what damage could occur if the Covenant got their hands on those secrets.
Five minutes might be too much time considering what was at risk.
“Understood,” Fred replied. “Isaac, you’re rear guard. Vinh, stick close to Kelly. I’ll take Doctor Halsey.” Fred picked up the doctor with great care. She couldn’t have weighed more than fifty kilos—light as a stick.
&nbs
p; “I’ve lost targets on motion sensors,” Vinh whispered over the COM. “They were close, too.”
“Kelly, watch for camouflaged Elites.”
“Affirmative,” she said. She scanned the room, moved to a cabinet, and grabbed a tin can marked TALC.
“Let’s move,” Fred ordered. “Kill the lights in the base. Hand signals only—I want radio silence.”
Four blue acknowledgment lights winked on.
The faint light filtering in from the outer hall died.
Kelly slid into the hallway and melted into the shadows. Vinh followed, then Fred and Isaac. Will trailed behind, moving slower because of the care he took to remain quiet with the gear.
Dr. Halsey tapped her data pad, and a map uploaded onto Fred’s heads-up display, a path traced through corridors and a NAV marker designated an elevator shaft. That was their objective.
The Spartans winked on their acknowledgment lights, confirming the route.
They crept forward, smooth and silent—oil sliding over oil—until Kelly halted ten meters before a five-way intersection. The Spartans froze and waited. She crouched, set the can of talc on the floor, and then stood with her knees bent.
She waited another heartbeat, then gave a slight shake of her head from side to side—their signal for trouble ahead.
Vinh moved next to Fred’s flank, and Fred set Dr. Halsey down and stood in front of her. Will crouched next to the doctor to provide cover with his own body if needed.
Isaac remained on their six.
Kelly kicked the can. It tumbled end over end through the air, and as it entered the intersection Kelly squeezed off a single shot. The flash of light from the muzzle illuminated the passage just long enough for them to see the can explode and a cloud of white dust mushroom into the hallways.
Their motion detectors flickered, and four targets resolved on their displays. Image enhancement showed the wavering outlines of four Covenant Elites—their light-bending camouflage fluttering and overloading as the talc powder coated them.
Kelly open fire with both pistols. The Elite closest dropped as three slugs pounded through its shields, and a round caught it in the center of its elongated forehead. Purple blood blossomed across the wall.
The remaining Elites returned fire, and Kelly bounded forward, plasma flaring at the edge of her shield. She ducked into the side passage.
The instant Kelly was out of the line of fire, Fred shouldered his rifle and squeezed the trigger. A three-round burst caught the next Elite, and its shield sparkled and failed. It twisted away, clutching at the single round that had penetrated its chest.
Vinh fired two single shots, but the Elite’s shield held. In unison, Vinh and Fred fired another set of three-round bursts. The Elite dropped to the steel floor in a twisted heap.
The last Elite had vanished. No return fire. No sensor contact.
The Spartans held position for a moment longer, then regrouped. With hand signals, each member of the team reported no contact.
Fred spied tracks in the white dust scattered on the floor. The Elite had bugged out, and it was most likely gathering reinforcements.
That wasn’t what Covenant Elites usually did. Their pride demanded that they fight, and die fighting, if need be. They would hurl themselves headlong into battle, no matter the odds, and die by the hundreds if necessary. They almost never ran away. Nothing about this engagement had been “usual.”
Fred glanced at Will and Dr. Halsey. Will gave him a thumbs-up, indicating that the doctor hadn’t been wounded in the exchange.
After the exchange of gunfire, there was no need for secrecy. “One of them got away,” Fred told them. “We need to move, too…and forget quiet.”
The Spartans ran down the corridor. They heard and felt another explosion directly over their heads.
Kelly skidded to a halt in front of the locked elevator doors. She gripped one of the panels; Fred and Vinh gripped the seam of the other side, and the Spartans pried them apart as if the five-centimeter steel alloy were no tougher than the rind of an orange.
Kelly grabbed the elevator cables and slid down. Vinh followed, then Fred plummeted more than five hundred meters into the darkness. The three of them ripped open the doors at the bottom of the shaft.
Will slid down next with Dr. Halsey holding on to his neck. Isaac followed.
“There should be an air vent,” Dr. Halsey whispered. “There.”
Kelly ripped off the vent cover and peered down.
“It leads to the old mine tunnels,” Dr. Halsey told them, “and more, I hope.”
“Go,” Fred ordered.
Kelly dived in, headfirst. They waited ten seconds, and her acknowledgment light winked on.
Fred entered next, sliding through the vent duct. It twisted and turned and finally dumped him into a long tunnel of roughly hewn granite. The ceiling was ten meters high and—judging from the three-meter-wide tire tracks in the dust—big enough for heavy equipment to have rolled through.
Will slid out of the duct with Dr. Halsey riding on his chest. Vinh and Isaac came after them.
“There’s more to this place,” Dr. Halsey told them, standing up and brushing the dust from her lab coat. “This is only the beginning. We have to—”
A thunderous detonation cut her off. The mountain exploded, and ONI’s base collapsed over their heads.
Chapter Fifteen
0002 Hours, September 7, 2552 (Military Calendar)
Epsilon Eridani System, Oni Underground Facility,
Planet Reach.
Fred followed the trail of odd symbols along the left-hand stone wall until they twisted into a spiral mosaic and vanished into ever-smaller curls. The symbols were part of the rock, composed of glittering mica inclusions in the granite matrix. There were a series of squares, triangles, bars, and dots, similar to Covenant calligraphy he had seen—but at the same time it was simpler, cleaner, and when Fred focused on them, the characters seemed to blur around their edges and fade from his stare.
He blinked, and the symbols were there again.
Following these symbols like a trail of bread crumbs had been his primary mission for the last eight days. Dr. Halsey and the Spartans had explored the extensive caverns, hoping to find two things: a way out, and what Dr. Halsey called “the most important discovery of the millennium.” She had, however, refused to speculate on what exactly this discovery would be. “I’m a scientist,” she’d told them, “not a soothsayer.”
Fred would have settled for finding an airhole to the surface—but he recognized that the symbols were important, too. They were important because the Covenant thought they were important. And that made whatever Dr. Halsey was searching for worth finding, if only to keep the enemy from getting it.
The Covenant hadn’t stopped digging overhead, although the pace and methods they used had changed. There had been no further explosions. There was only the constant and gentle scraping sound of equipment as they slowly but steadily removed the mountain. Every hour the sound intensified as they drew closer. Fred had set his audio filters to screen out the noise so he could concentrate.
Eight days. It hadn’t seemed that long. They worked, they rested, they slept, and they waited. Dr. Halsey had taught them word games like twenty questions and simple cipher, at which they all became extremely proficient—so much so that she quickly stopped playing. Dr. Halsey was not a graceful loser.
The time had melted away. Maybe it was the darkness, the lack of any temporal reference like the sun, moon, and stars, but the hours had lost their meaning.
He paused to stretch his Achilles tendon, recently stitched and fused by Dr. Halsey. Aside from some stiffness, it was almost back to normal. He had almost torn the tendon off, running on the injury.
Dr. Halsey had patched them all up; she had even flash cloned Kelly a new partial lung, which she successfully grafted. In her tiny field medical kit, the doctor had a handheld MRI, a sterile field generator, even a shoe-box-sized clone tank for organ duplication.
She had also installed the new MJOLNIR parts in their existing armor. These upgrades were in field-testing and not certified, she had explained, but she gauged their need sufficient to justify the risk of using the new equipment.
Kelly received an improvement to her neural induction circuits, giving her twitch response time a speed boost. Vinh had a new linear accelerator added to her shield system, effectively doubling its strength. Isaac had a new image-enhancing computer installed. Will received a better tracking system on his heads-up display, which improved his accuracy at distances up to a thousand meters.
Fred flexed his bare right hand. Dr. Halsey was installing his upgrade now—new sensors that would boost the sensitivity of his motion tracker. Without the single gauntlet, Fred felt vulnerable. The Master Chief would have told him not to rely on his armor or weapons—rely instead on his head. It would protect him better.
He wondered how Blue Team—John, Linda, and James—had fared. And what of the rest of his own team? Had anyone at the generator complex survived?
He didn’t want to think about them—but he couldn’t help it. Maybe it was the darkness and the constant weight of the earth around him.
What if they died here? Not died fighting, but just died here. In a way, that wouldn’t be so bad. Fred had faced death a dozen times, brushed so close to it he had stared it in the face until it blinked and turned away.
This was different, though. He didn’t want to die, not without knowing if the other Spartans were still out there fighting. Not if they still needed him.
He sighed and absentmindedly brushed his fingertips across the odd symbols. They were as smooth as glass, and their edges were sharp. These crystals could be a natural phenomenon. He had seen similar inclusions in the museum on—
Fred felt a hot pain in the tip of his finger. He drew his bare hand away and a tiny track of blood smeared the rock.
The glittering symbols on the wall took on a greasy cast, and the reflection from his helmet lights thickened and almost seemed to be absorbed by the minerals.
He flicked off his helmet lights. The symbols in the rock emitted a faint illumination of their own: a soft reddish glow like heated metal. The light intensified and spread across the spiral on the wall, starting from where his blood had fallen; those symbols warmed to a pleasant orange, then yellow-gold.