Cyberpunk: Spartan Walker

Case began to give orders: Cortana, prepare to jump. Lieutenant Hall, increase speed to maximum. Lieutenant Lovell, route coordinates 055, 290. Be prepared, I will jump out of regular space at the signal!

Yes, sir! they replied in unison.

Are we leaving Governor Gillis and his people behind? Cortana asked.

Case nodded, and General Whitcomb was silent for a few moments before he replied, Yes. This is not the Alamo, and I am not Colonel William Barrett Travis, much as I wish I was. . No, we want to escape, we are exchanging hundreds of lives for billions of lives.

The Master Chief subconsciously touched the storage slot on his waist, and Dr. Halsey's data chip jingled. Is this the right thing to do, sir?

Right? General Whitcomb sighed. Hell, kid, maybe that's not right. Personally, I'd rather fight, fight to the death, with those Covenant bastards. But I don't. Free to make that choice. My duty is clear: to defend the men and women of this planet - not a bunch of pirates and outlaws. He closed his eyes and said, The situation couldn't be more fucking clear. Even if we If you stay and fight, they will all be killed just as well.”

The Master Chief saw that the energy in the Justice's reactor was depleted to only 5%. Blue-green light spots appeared on the front screen, and the stars seemed to be splashed with watercolor.

Something is wrong: the shield of Master Chief's Mjolnir armor ripples. Radiation monitors point to the spike location. Where does radiation come from?

Hundreds for billions, the general whispered. I'm going to hell for this. General Whitcomb took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Colonel Keyes looked at the star map with a cold eye, making it difficult to understand his thoughts. Let's go, Cortana. Let's get out of here.

****

Corporal Locklear whistled, and the robot followed him obediently. The robot was packed with rifles, pistols, ammunition boxes, and enough C-7 foam explosives to blast the Gettysburg into a half-kilometer-wide crater.

He walked to the cargo elevator and took it down to B-deck. He saw on the Justice's cargo manifest that medical supplies were stored there. He wanted to grab a few cans of self-healing foam in case the Chief's extremely well-planned suicide mission was needed.

It wasn't that Locklear had any problem with suicide missions; he'd done them a lot before, and they seemed to get him to the point where he got the most out of his life. But now, after so much struggle, he just wanted to rest for a while: sleep with him for twenty-four hours, and then relax.

He idly pulled at the handkerchief tied around his arm.

Damn girl, he murmured to himself, Why do you want to die? I have planned the future for you and me.

What is he doing, lusting after a woman? And a Navy pilot? If his teammates knew about it, they would laugh their heads off. But they all died in Reach and Halo.

To hell with death, Locklear said, I'm alive, I'm not going to die, and I don't feel guilty for anyone's death.

He laughed and said to himself: It's not like the whole world doesn't want to kill me. Locklear turned to the robot, right, friend?

The cargo robot made a circle and walked to the right.

No, no, stop. He sighed. Man, I gotta buy myself a ticket to relax. Next time, I'll ask a Spartan out on a date if I can tell who's in their squad. Male or female. He shuddered.

The spacious elevator opened the door with a creaking sound. Locklear stepped in and whistled for the robot to follow. Storage room two is organized with racks and shelves five meters high from the deck to the ceiling. He shined his flashlight on the uneven deck and found a table and a terminal in the corner.

Hey, Inventory Controller, he said, If you want to pick up anything from the Navy, you have to come to you. He strode to the desk, sat down, and typed in the order to search for medical alcohol.

Ellie's sweet voice sounded on his receiver: Corporal Locklear, I want to convey an urgent order from Colonel Price.

Locklear shut down the communications channel. Enough noise, ma'am, he muttered. The search has just begun.

The location of MED34-CH3CH2OH pops up on the screen.

Bingo, he sang.

Locklear jumped to his feet. Come on, friend. I'll have a party with you.

Something slid inside his clothes. Locklear reached into his pocket and pulled out the crystal that Dr. Halsey had entrusted to his safekeeping. The long stone was cracked, its faces moving and rearranging like the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

He suddenly remembered that the blue color in the jump space bubble was exactly the same as that emitted by the crystal - the extended space produced light spots, which was the first sign of the jump in the slip space.

I don't want another Slipspace War, Locklear said through gritted teeth. I don't want them tracking us, or this thing sending signals to every Covenant ship in the system.

He grabbed a can of C-7 foam explosives from the robot, threw Dr. Halsey's crystal onto the deck, and then quickly covered the thing with foam explosives. In just a few seconds, it turned into a hard resin. . He took another detonator, inserted it into the foam, and connected the detonator to a timer.

Why did the Doctor give this thing to him for safekeeping? She said it was because people from the Military Intelligence Agency would risk destroying it if they had to. They might even let it fall into the hands of the Covenant. Those words made sense, but there was also something wrong with that explanation.

Locklear looked at the dots of light on the monitor, which now nearly obscured the stars.

To hell with it.

He had reasons for blowing this thing up - like not wanting to die in another slipspace battle, like maybe getting some compensation for Polaski's death. Those Covenant sons of bitches really want it, don't they? Well, let them go to hell too.

I'm avenging you, Polaski, he whispered.

Locklear set the timer for three seconds, pressed the countdown button, and rushed behind the robot to cover his head.

The last thing he saw in the world was a brilliant light like sapphire.