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A Captain—and new orders. Good. “Yes, sir.”
The Captain in the lab coat escorted him into the P&R’s medical bay. “Undress, please,” the man said.
John quickly disrobed, then stacked his neatly folded uniform on a nearby gurney. The Captain steppedbehind him and began to swab John’s neck and the back of his head with a foul-smelling liquid. Theliquid felt ice-cold on his skin.
A moment later, Dr. Halsey entered. “This will just take a moment, Master Chief. We’re going toupgrade a few components in your standard-issue neural interface. Lie back and remain still, please.”
The Master Chief did as she said. A technician sprayed a topical anesthetic on his neck. The skin tingled,then went cold and numb. The Master Chief felt layers of skin incised, and then a series of distinctclicking sounds that echoed through his skull. There was a brief laser pulse and another spray. He sawsparks, felt the room spin, then a sense of vertigo. His vision blurred; he blinked rapidly and it quicklyreturned to normal.
“Good . . . the procedure is complete,” Dr. Halsey said. “Please follow me.”
The Captain handed the Master Chief a paper gown. He slipped it on and followed the doctor outside.
A field command dome had been assembled on the range. Its white fabric walls rippled in the breeze.
Ten MPs stood around the structure, assault rifles in hand. The Master Chief noted these weren’t regularMarines. They wore the gold comet insignia of Special Forces Orbital Drop Shock Troopers—“Helljumpers.” Tough and iron-disciplined. A flash of memory: the blood of troops—just like these—soaking into the mat of a boxing ring.
John felt his adrenaline spike as soon as he saw the soldiers.
Dr. Halsey approached the MP at the entrance and presented her credentials. They accepted them andscanned her retina and voiceprint, then did the same to the Master Chief.
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Once they confirmed his identify, they immediately saluted—which was technically unnecessary, as theMaster Chief was out of uniform.
He did them the courtesy of returning their salute.
The soldiers kept looking around, scanning the field, as if they were expecting something to happen.John’s discomfort grew—not much spooked an Orbital Drop Shock Trooper.
Dr. Halsey led the Master Chief inside. In the center of the dome stood an empty suit of MJOLNIRarmor, suspended between two pillars on a raised platform. The Master Chief knew it was not his suit.His, after years of use, had dents and scratches in the alloy plates and the once iridescent green finishhad dulled to a worn olive brown.
This suit was spotless and its surface possessed a subtle metallic sheen. He noted the armor plates wereslightly thicker, and the black underlayers had a more convoluted weave of components. The fusionpack was half again as large, and tiny luminous slits glowed near the articulation points.
“This is the real MJOLNIR,” Dr. Halsey whispered to him. “What you have been using was only afraction of what the armor should be. This—” She turned to the Master Chief. “—is everything I hadalways dreamed it could be. Please put the suit on.”