Halo: Ghosts of Onyx Read Online Free PDF Page B
Author: Eric S. Nylund
fire-team integration, target prioritization, hand-to-hand combat, and battlefield tactics were part of their hardwired instincts now. But that didn't mean the underlying biological impulses were worthless. Quite the opposite.
John set a hand on Kurt's shoulder, searching for the right words.
Kelly, as usual, articulated the sentiments that John never could. She said, "Welcome to Blue, Spartan. We're going to make a great team."
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CHAPTER
TW O
0500 HOURS, OCTOBER 24, 2531 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ABOARD UNSC POINT OF NO RETURN, INTERSTELLAR SPACE, SECTOR B-042
Colonel Ackerson ran both hands through his thinning hair, and poured himself a glass of water from the carafe on the table. His hand shook. Ironic that his career in the military had come to this: a secret meeting on a ship that technically didn't exist, about to discuss a project that, if successful, would never surface from the shadows.
Eyes-only classification. Code words. Double deals and back-stabbing.
He longed for earlier days when he held a rifle in his hands, the enemy was easily recognized and dispatched, and Earth was the most powerful, secure center of the universe.
Those times only existed in memory now, and Ackerson had to live in the dark to save what little light remained.
He pushed back from the ebony conference table, and his gaze swept over the room, a five-meter-diameter bubble, bisected by a metal grate floor, with stainless-steel walls brushed to a white reflective sheen. Once sealed, it became a Faraday cage, and no electronic signals could escape.
He hated this place. The white walls and the black table made him feel, like he sat inside a giant eye, always under observation.
The "cage," as it was referred to, was contained within a cocoon of ablative insulating layers, and counterelectronics to provide further security, and this ensconced on the most secret ship in the UNSC fleet, Point of No Return.
Constructed in parts and then assembled in deep space, Point of No Return was the largest prowler-class vessel ever built. The size of a destroyer, she was completely radar-invisible, and when her baffled engines ran below 30 percent she was as dark as interstellar space. Point of No Return was the wartime field command and control platform for the UNSC Office of Naval Intelligence, NavSpecWep Section Three.
Very few had actually seen this ship, only a handful had ever been aboard, and fewer than twenty officers in the galaxy had access to the cage.
The white wall sheathed apart and three people walked in, boots clipping across the metal grate.
Rear Admiral Rich entered first. He was only forty, but already gray. He commanded covert operations in Section Three, in charge of every field operation save Dr. Halsey's SPARTAN-II program. He sat on Ackerson's right, glanced
at the water, and scowled. He withdrew a gold flask and un-stoppered it. The odor of cheap whiskey immediately assailed Acker son.
Next was Captain Gibson. The man moved like a panther with the low lopping strides indicative of time recently spent in mi-crogravity. He was the field officer in charge of Section Three Black Ops, the hands-on wet-work counterpart to Rear Admiral Rich.
And last, Vice Admiral Parangosky entered.
The doors immediately sheathed close behind her. There were three distinct clicks as locks meshed into place, and then the room fell into an unnatural silence.
Parangosky remained standing and assessed the others; her iron gaze finally pinned Ackerson. "You better have one hell of a reason for dragging us all here through back channels, Colonel."
Parangosky looked fragile and closer to 170 years old than her actual seventy years, but she was in Ackerson's opinion the most dangerous person in the UNSC. She was the real power in ONI. To his knowledge, only one person had ever successfully crossed her and lived.
Colonel Ackerson set four reader tablets on the table. Bio-metric scanners flashed on the sidebars.
"Please, Admiral," he said,
John set a hand on Kurt's shoulder, searching for the right words.
Kelly, as usual, articulated the sentiments that John never could. She said, "Welcome to Blue, Spartan. We're going to make a great team."
←
^
→
CHAPTER
TW O
0500 HOURS, OCTOBER 24, 2531 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ABOARD UNSC POINT OF NO RETURN, INTERSTELLAR SPACE, SECTOR B-042
Colonel Ackerson ran both hands through his thinning hair, and poured himself a glass of water from the carafe on the table. His hand shook. Ironic that his career in the military had come to this: a secret meeting on a ship that technically didn't exist, about to discuss a project that, if successful, would never surface from the shadows.
Eyes-only classification. Code words. Double deals and back-stabbing.
He longed for earlier days when he held a rifle in his hands, the enemy was easily recognized and dispatched, and Earth was the most powerful, secure center of the universe.
Those times only existed in memory now, and Ackerson had to live in the dark to save what little light remained.
He pushed back from the ebony conference table, and his gaze swept over the room, a five-meter-diameter bubble, bisected by a metal grate floor, with stainless-steel walls brushed to a white reflective sheen. Once sealed, it became a Faraday cage, and no electronic signals could escape.
He hated this place. The white walls and the black table made him feel, like he sat inside a giant eye, always under observation.
The "cage," as it was referred to, was contained within a cocoon of ablative insulating layers, and counterelectronics to provide further security, and this ensconced on the most secret ship in the UNSC fleet, Point of No Return.
Constructed in parts and then assembled in deep space, Point of No Return was the largest prowler-class vessel ever built. The size of a destroyer, she was completely radar-invisible, and when her baffled engines ran below 30 percent she was as dark as interstellar space. Point of No Return was the wartime field command and control platform for the UNSC Office of Naval Intelligence, NavSpecWep Section Three.
Very few had actually seen this ship, only a handful had ever been aboard, and fewer than twenty officers in the galaxy had access to the cage.
The white wall sheathed apart and three people walked in, boots clipping across the metal grate.
Rear Admiral Rich entered first. He was only forty, but already gray. He commanded covert operations in Section Three, in charge of every field operation save Dr. Halsey's SPARTAN-II program. He sat on Ackerson's right, glanced
at the water, and scowled. He withdrew a gold flask and un-stoppered it. The odor of cheap whiskey immediately assailed Acker son.
Next was Captain Gibson. The man moved like a panther with the low lopping strides indicative of time recently spent in mi-crogravity. He was the field officer in charge of Section Three Black Ops, the hands-on wet-work counterpart to Rear Admiral Rich.
And last, Vice Admiral Parangosky entered.
The doors immediately sheathed close behind her. There were three distinct clicks as locks meshed into place, and then the room fell into an unnatural silence.
Parangosky remained standing and assessed the others; her iron gaze finally pinned Ackerson. "You better have one hell of a reason for dragging us all here through back channels, Colonel."
Parangosky looked fragile and closer to 170 years old than her actual seventy years, but she was in Ackerson's opinion the most dangerous person in the UNSC. She was the real power in ONI. To his knowledge, only one person had ever successfully crossed her and lived.
Colonel Ackerson set four reader tablets on the table. Bio-metric scanners flashed on the sidebars.
"Please, Admiral," he said,
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