"Yes, ma'am," Fred replied. "I mean, no, ma'am. It's not safe.
The Fleet engaged the Covenant, but the enemy managed to land ground forces on Reach. We were sent to the surface to protect the orbital-gun generators." He stopped, took a deep breath, and continued. "We were not successful in that mission. Covenant forces overwhelmed our position." He glanced back at Kelly and the other Spartans. "We fell back here. . . we thought it would be secure."
They continued down the sloping passage; titanium doors irised open for them and closed as soon as they passed.
"I see," Dr. Halsey replied. "And Captain Keyes? John?"
"Unknown," Fred told her. "The Master Chief and part of our team attempted to retrieve an unsecured NAV database from an orbital station before the Covenant got to it. Assuming he was successful, and given Captain Keyes's record of combat against the Covenant..." Fred's voice trailed off.
"I'm sure they accomplished their mission and escaped," Dr.
Halsey said, finishing the thought for him. "John has never lost."
"No, ma'am," Fred replied.
They walked in silence for a moment past a display of cap- Z tured insurgent flags that had been mounted under glass along the curved concrete wall. Most were emblazoned with an array of gaudy insignia—family crests, bloodied dragons, and scorched crossed swords. They continued past these remnants of a rebel- Z lion the UNSC no longer had to worry about.
"Doctor Halsey?" Fred said. "Permission to speak freely?"
"Granted," she said. "I don't stand on ceremony, particularly S given the circumstances. Speak your mind."
"Ma'am, something isn't normal about this Covenant inva- sion," Fred told her. "They've won, but they aren't glassing the planet. At least not completely—as near as I can determine, they've only hit the poles and a portion of the lower latitudes."
"And they had digging equipment in position over this fa- cility," Kelly added.
"Curious," Dr. Halsey said. "They've never taken an interest in any human or human technologies—" She halted at a large metal iris, big enough to drive a Warthog through, and set her hand on a palm scanner. "The medical wing," she explained. She spoke into the nearby microphone: " 'I shall do no harm.' " The door opened for them.
High-intensity lights flickered on in the large room beyond.
There were a dozen medical diagnosis tables and a row of dis- plays along the far wall. The lime-colored floor was brightly polished and sterile. The walls glowed with a faint pink lumines- cence. Seven doors led to adjacent offices and surgical bays with windows looking out into this central room.
"Kalmiya?" she said. "Status?"
"Yes, Doctor," replied the disembodied voice of her personal AI, her replacement for Cortana. "I have prepared the Spartans' personal medical files and sent runners to fetch stocks of blood plasma and other medical supplies from cold storage, as well as tools to assist in the removal of their MJOLNIR armor."
The doors to the tiny service elevator at the far end of the fa- cility opened, and a robotic rover rolled out, its telescopic arms holding piles of liquid-filled bags. Rows of tools were neatly lined up across the rover's top tray.
"Very good," Dr. Halsey said. "Continue to track seismic ac-ERIC NYLUNO 123 tivity overhead. Interface with the Spartans' biomonitors and patch the output to the display on bay three."
She strolled over to a table, and a bank of holographic dis- plays hummed to life, floating serenely. Graphs and figures scrolled across them.
"Give me a spotlight here, prepare a sterilization field, and lower the ambient lighting by forty percent. And a little Mahler, please. Symphony number two."
"Yes, Doctor." Music drifted from the speakers.
Dr. Halsey examined the graphs, tapped tiny human-figure icons, and summoned MRI images of" the Spartans' internal structures—holographic bones, organs, and muscles appeared and slowly rotated.
She winced at the extent of their injuries.
"Fred, you have a torn Achilles tendon and three cracked ribs.
Both kidneys have moderate contusions." She glanced at the rest of the team's data and after a moment's consideration told him, "You're fine.
"William, you have a cracked tibia and some internal bleed- ing. Get some biofoam into that wound and avoid strenuous mo- tions for the next day." She turned to face Fred and Will. "You two are in the best shape. I want you to go to Level Aqua, Section Lambda, and retrieve a few things."
"Yes, ma'am," Fred said.
Dr. Halsey was only a civilian, but the Spartans had always ac- cepted her authority. Perhaps because she had acted as an equal among the Fleet Admirals and Generals who were constantly trying to co-opt her work. Or maybe it was more than that. She wondered if the Spartans viewed her as some sort of mother fig- ure. As much as this notion amused her, she doubted that they viewed anyone outside their team as family. Not even her.
William retrieved a can of biofoam from the rover and in- serted the tip into the tiny injection port in his armor—pushed it through the skin between his fourth and fifth ribs. He filled his abdominal cavity with the space-filling coagulant/antibacterial/ tissue-regenerative polymer.
"Cold?" she asked.
"Nothing worth noting, ma'am."
She nodded, not making much over William's courage. She'd always kept her admiration for her Spartans to herself. The last thing she wanted was to do make them feel different. They got enough "special" treatment from everyone else.
Dr. Halsey picked up a clipboard, tapped a few items onto its display, and handed it to Fred. "New weapons arrived for field-testing last week," she told him, "as well as parts for the MJOLNIR Mark Five armor system. We'll swap them out for your damaged components. Kalmiya, show them the way, please, and give them access to the restricted areas."
"Yes, Doctor," Kalmiya said. The med bay doors opened.
"This way."
Fred studied the items on the clipboard. "Very, very good," he said, and his voice was thick with satisfaction. He nodded, took a long look at his teammates, and then he and Will departed.
Dr. Halsey returned to her medical readouts. "Vinh, you have a torn deltoid muscle, three broken fingers, and a herniated disk.
Isaac, internal contusions and both shoulders have been dislo- cated and reinserted incorrectly, which is pinching off the blood vessels. I'll get you both fixed up in a moment, but first I want you to survey the route we took here and suggest further perimeter defenses."
"Yes, ma'am," they replied, cast a look at Kelly, and left.
Dr. Halsey concentrated on Kelly's internal scans. Her injuries were by far the worst. She had seen that from the extremely low blood pressure and high body temperature even before she'd glanced at the MRI. There was moderate bleeding in her liver— a fatal condition if not treated—and her right lung was com- pletely collapsed. That the woman was still on her feet, let alone fighting, was tantamount to an act of God.
Of course, that's what the SPARTAN-II project was all about, wasn't it? Playing God for the greater good.
"Doctor Halsey," Kelly asked. "Where are the others?"
"As I said, they evacuated," she replied. "On the table, please.