Halo: Silent Storm CHAPTER 1 0342 hours, March 5, 2526 (military calendar) UNSC Razor-class Prowler Starry Night High Equatorial Orbit, Planet Netherop, Ephyra System The distant slivers of five alien spacecraft burst from Netherop''s pall of brown clouds and climbed into orbit on tails of white-hot propellant. The attack plan was to match velocities with the vessels, then have a squad of Spartans go EVA and follow them into their mothership''s hangar. But the aliens were traveling about twenty times faster now than when the Starry Night had spotted them just fifteen seconds earlier, and John-117 didn''t know if a Razor-class prowler could match that kind of acceleration. There were a lot of things John didn''t know about this operation, like whether the alien craft were reconnaissance boats or superiority fighters, or whether their mothership was a survey frigate or an assault corvette. He didn''t know the size of the vessel''s complement, or how many of them would be trained for close-quarters combat, or why the Covenant might be interested in a greenhouse planet that had probably cooked its native population a hundred centuries before. What John did know was that the aliens were the enemy, and today they were going to die. He continued to watch the five spacecraft via a tactical monitor mounted high on the drop-bay bulkhead, and a crisp female voice sounded over the Starry Night''s internal comm net. "Brace for acceleration.
The inertial compensator won''t handle what we''re throwing at it." "Acknowledged." John and his eleven Spartan companions lowered their center of gravity against the prowler''s acceleration. A moment later, they began to hear muffled clangs and thumps as poorly secured equipment slammed into nearby bulkheads. "How long until we catch the targets?" he asked. "It depends." When she failed to elaborate, John said, "That''s not an answer, ma''am." He tried to keep the impatience in his voice to a minimum.
Halima Ascot might have an informal manner, but she was still a captain in the United Nations Space Command, and he was just a fifteen-year-old petty officer first class. Not that his age mattered. The date-of-birth had been falsified in the service records of all Spartans, and no one in the Starry Night''s crew had reason to believe any of them were younger than nineteen. Besides, John and his fellow Spartans were no ordinary fifteen-year-olds. At age six, they had been conscripted into a top-secret program to develop bioengineered super-soldiers. The intention had been to use them against a massive colonial Insurrection that threatened to shatter humanity''s young interstellar civilization, but priorities had changed when the Covenant appeared. That was the life of a Spartan. He went where he was needed, he didn''t complain, and he killed whatever he had to.
It was that simple. Deep down, John knew he had been wronged when he was taken from his family at such an early age--that he should have hated his abductors for robbing him of a normal childhood. But he didn''t. They had molded a schoolyard bully into a soldier, then forged him into the leader of the finest fighting unit in the UNSC. He was grateful for that. And he was damn proud they had chosen him. When Captain Ascot did not acknowledge his point, John added, "We need a little warning before deploying, ma''am. Once we activate our rebreathers, we''ll only have ninety minutes of air.
" "I''m aware of that, Petty Officer," Ascot said. "Which is why this drop may be no-go. The mothership is on the far side of its orbit right now." This meant it would be hidden from the Starry Night''s surveillance systems until both vessels were on the same side of the planet again, but that was hardly a cause for concern. The Starry Night had been observing the Covenant vessels for more than a day, and the mothership had never been visible for longer than twenty minutes out of every hour. "So, situation normal," John said. "I don''t see the problem." "Orbital mechanics," Ascot said.
"You can''t just go faster and make the rendezvous--try that, and your whole squad will end up flying out of orbit." "Right." John had studied classical mechanics in the physics courses during his third year of Spartan training. But that had been five years ago, when he was only nine, and he had been more interested in tactical theory than Newton''s laws of motion. "We have to drop into a lower orbit and catch up, then sync orbits and begin proximity operations." "While staying hidden behind the alien spacecraft," Ascot said. "In their current orbit, it''s going to take seventy minutes just to sync. After that, you still have to last through proximity operations, then sneak aboard and capture a five-hundred-meter ship full of LGMs.
" LGM stood for little green men, a slang term that could be traced back at least as far as the unidentified flying object reports of 1950s Earth. Because one of the Covenant species averaged only a meter and a half tall, some analysts in the Office of Naval Intelligence believed the enemy might actually have visited Earth in the past. But John knew better. If the Covenant had ever been to Earth, it would be a glassed-over wasteland by now. "We can handle it." John hoped he sounded more certain than he felt. On the one hand, he and his fellow Spartans were the deadliest soldiers mankind had ever created. On the other, humanity had not even been certain that aliens really existed until the violent first contact with the Covenant.
So there was no getting around it--at best, John and his assault squad were only somewhat prepared for what they were about to attempt. But he didn''t dare admit that. If he wanted his team to fight with confidence, he had to project confidence at all times. When Ascot did not respond to his reassurance, John decided to double down. "Really, ma''am, we''ll be fine. Spartans work fast." "Nobody works that fast," Ascot said. "Look .
you''ll have no more than a fifteen-minute margin. If anyone runs out of air during the boarding action, there''s nothing the Starry Night can do to help." "I appreciate the concern." John did not let her caution shake him. The SPARTAN-II program was so highly classified that even prowler captains did not know the full capabilities of the super-soldiers they ferried into battle. "But once we''re aboard, rebreather time won''t be a factor. The mothership''s atmosphere should support human life." "There''s a big difference between should and will.
" "The odds are with us. You''ve seen the intelligence summaries. Only one Covenant species doesn''t breathe oxygen." "Only one species that ONI is aware of," Ascot replied. "We both know there could be a dozen more that breathe anything from hydrogen to cobalt. The UNSC has a lot to learn about the Covenant." "Yes, ma''am. That is the reason for the operation.
" "Careful, Spartan," Ascot said. "A pissed-off prowler captain has about two hundred ways to make your life miserable." "I apologize, ma''am." John didn''t like begging for permission to carry out a mission assigned to him by the chief of the Office of Naval Intelligence''s Section Three, but as the commander of the Starry Night, Ascot was in charge of the mission until the Spartans left her vessel. "I still think we need to take the risk." "I know you do." Ascot''s tone was sympathetic. The UNSC knew almost nothing about the enemy.
If the Spartans could capture a Covenant vessel, the scientists of ONI''s Section Three Materials Group should be able to reverse-engineer the technology and learn the secret of the enemy''s superior slipspace drives and nearly impenetrable energy shields. They would also attempt to discover the true capabilities of the aliens'' advanced weaponry, and perhaps even uncover a few hidden vulnerabilities. With a little luck, they might even figure out where the aliens lived out there--and why they wanted to eradicate humanity. "But it''s my call," Ascot continued. "And I need to be sure you understand the risks. We''re working at the edge of your armor''s capability, with more unknown variables than we can count. If something goes wrong, there won''t be much chance to recover." "If you''re saying we''d be on our own, Spartans are trained--" "I''m saying the Starry Night will do everything possible," Ascot said.
"But we''re limited by orbital mechanics. It might be smart to wait for an opportunity that''s not quite so marginal." "With all due respect, ma''am, I disagree." As much as John wanted to accept her recommendation, he didn''t even consider it. The longer they waited, the more likely they were to run into a mission-killing complication--and the more his private doubts would eat away at him. "We''ve been here a day already, and our luck won''t hold forever. Sooner or later, an enemy patrol will spot the Starry Night, or a second Covenant vessel will arrive, or the enemy commander will decide it''s time to move on. I can think of a dozen things that might go wrong if we don''t go now.
" Ascot fell silent for a moment, then finally sighed. "So can I." There was a low murmur while she consulted with someone on the bridge; then she said, "Very well, Spartan. You''re cleared to move forward. Slingshot maneuv.