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of nonhuman origin.” He paused, then added, “The product of a race with technology far in advance ofour own.”
A murmur buzzed through the chamber.
“We have, of course, developed a number of first contact scenarios,” the Admiral continued, “andCaptain Veredi followed our established protocols. We had hoped that contact with a new race would bepeaceful. Obviously this was not the case—the alien vessel did not open fire until our task forceattempted to initiate communications.”
He paused, considering his words. “Fragments of the enemy’s transmissions were intercepted,” hecontinued. “A few words have been translated. We believe they call themselves ‘The Covenant.’However, before opening fire, the alien ship broadcast the following message in the clear.”
He gestured at Beowulf, who nodded. A moment later, a voice thundered from the amphitheater’sspeakers. John stiffened in his seat when he heard it; the voice from the speakers sounded odd, artificial—strangely calm and formal, but laden with rage and menace.
“Your destruction is the will of the Gods . . . and we are their instrument.”
John was awestruck. He stood.
“Yes, Spartan?” Stanforth said.
“Sir, is this a translation?”
“No,” the Admiral replied. “They broadcast this to us in our language. We believe they used some kindof translation system to prepare the message . . . but it means they’ve been studying us for some time.”
John took his seat.
“As of November 1, the UNSC has been ordered to full alert,” Stanforth said. “Vice Admiral PrestonCole is mobilizing the largest fleet action in human history to retake the Harvest System and confrontthis new threat. Their transmission made one thing perfectly clear: they’re looking for a fight.”
Only years of military discipline kept John rooted to his seat—otherwise he would have stood up andasked to volunteer on the spot. He would have given anything to go and fight. This was the threat he andthe other Spartans had been training for all their lives—he was certain of it. Not scattered rebels, pirates,or political dissidents.
“Because of this UNSC-wide mobilization,” Admiral Stanforth continued, “your training schedule will
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be accelerated to its final phase: Project MJOLNIR.”
He stepped away from the podium and clasped his hands behind his back. “To that end, I’m afraid I haveanother unpleasant announcement.” He turned to the Chief. “Chief Petty Officer Mendez will bedeparting us to train the next group of Spartans. Chief?”
John grabbed the edge of the riser. Chief Mendez had always been there for them, the only constant inthe universe. Admiral Stanforth might as well have told him that Epsilon Eridani was leaving the ReachSystem.
The Chief stepped to the podium and clasped its edges.
“Recruits,” he said, “soon your training will be complete, and you will graduate to the rank of PettyOfficer Second Class in the UNSC. One of the first things you will learn is that change is part of asoldier’s life. You will make and lose friends. You will move. This is part of the job.”