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"Kalmiya?" she said. "Status?"
"Yes, Doctor," replied the disembodied voice of her personal AI, her replacement for Cortana. "I have prepared the Spartans' personal medical files and sent runners to fetch stocks of blood plasma and other medical supplies from cold storage, as well as tools to assist in the removal of their MJOLNIR armor."
The doors to the tiny service elevator at the far end of the fa?cility opened, and a robotic rover rolled out, its telescopic arms holding piles of liquid-filled bags. Rows of tools were neatly lined up across the rover's top tray.
"Very good," Dr. Halsey said. "Continue to track seismic ac-
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tivity overhead. Interface with the Spartans' biomonitors and patch the output to the display on bay three."
She strolled over to a table, and a bank of holographic dis?plays hummed to life, floating serenely. Graphs and figures scrolled across them.
"Give me a spotlight here, prepare a sterilization field, and lower the ambient lighting by forty percent. And a little Mahler, please. Symphony number two."
"Yes, Doctor." Music drifted from the speakers.
Dr. Halsey examined the graphs, tapped tiny human-figure icons, and summoned MRI images of" the Spartans' internal structures—holographic bones, organs, and muscles appeared and slowly rotated.
She winced at the extent of their injuries.
"Fred, you have a torn Achilles tendon and three cracked ribs. Both kidneys have moderate contusions." She glanced at the rest of the team's data and after a moment's consideration told him, "You're fine.
"William, you have a cracked tibia and some internal bleed?ing. Get some biofoam into that wound and avoid strenuous mo?tions for the next day." She turned to face Fred and Will. "You two are in the best shape. I want you to go to Level Aqua, Section Lambda, and retrieve a few things."
"Yes, ma'am," Fred said.
Dr. Halsey was only a civilian, but the Spartans had always ac?cepted her authority. Perhaps because she had acted as an equal among the Fleet Admirals and Generals who were constantly trying to co-opt her work. Or maybe it was more than that. She wondered if the Spartans viewed her as some sort of mother fig?ure. As much as this notion amused her, she doubted that they viewed anyone outside their team as family. Not even her.
William retrieved a can of biofoam from the rover and in?serted the tip into the tiny injection port in his armor—pushed it through the skin between his fourth and fifth ribs. He filled his abdominal cavity with the space-filling coagulant/antibacterial/ tissue-regenerative polymer.
"Cold?" she asked.
"Nothing worth noting, ma'am."
She nodded, not making much over William's courage. She'd
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always kept her admiration for her Spartans to herself. The last thing she wanted was to do make them feel different. They got enough "special" treatment from everyone else.
Dr. Halsey picked up a clipboard, tapped a few items onto its display, and handed it to Fred. "New weapons arrived for field-testing last week," she told him, "as well as parts for the MJOLNIR Mark Five armor system. We'll swap them out for your damaged components. Kalmiya, show them the way, please, and give them access to the restricted areas."