第166页

　　"Well,  there's  your  ground,"  Sergeant  Johnson  said.  "On  this  'elephant'thing."
　　Will  got  up  and  walked  over  to  the  data  pad.  "It  fits  with  the  timetable.  This  station  is  on  the  way  to  Earth."
　　Fred  offered,  "We  can  drop  out  of  Slipspace  in  a  smaller  craft.  Go  in  and—"
　　"And  do  what  you  Spartans  do  best,"  Locklear  said.  "Infil-
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　　trate,  kill,  and  blow  shit  up.  If  there's  room  in  this  operation  for  an  ODST,  pencil  me  in."
　　The  Master  Chief  looked  to  the  data  pad,  then  to  his  team,  Locklear,  and  the  Sergeant.  They  were  right:  For  the  first  time,  they'd  know  when  and  where  the  Covenant  would  be.  If  they  hit  the  enemy  hard  enough,  they  could  stop  them  before  the  Cove?nant  hit  Earth...  and  delay  Armageddon.
　　The  Master  Chief  gave  rapid-fire  orders:
　　"Fred,  Will:  Get  Linda's  suit  back  together  ASAP.
　　"Locklear,  you're  on  weapons  detail  again.  Scrounge  every  pistol,  rifle,  ammo  bag,  and  scrap  of  explosives  on  this  vessel  and  haul  it  to  Ascendant  Justice's  launch  bay.
　　"Grace,  Linda,  and  Sergeant  Johnson:  Get  that  Covenant  drop-ship  ready  for  its  last  flight.  Reinforce  the  hull  for  a  Slipspace-to-normal-space  transition.
　　"And  I'll  take  this  plan  to  Admiral  Whitcomb—make  him  see  that  it's  the  only  way.  We're  going  to  take  this  fight  to  the  Cove?nant.  We're  going  to  launch  a  first  strike."
　　CHAPTER  THIRTY
　　0440  hours,  September  13,2552  (revised  date,  Military  Calendar)\Aboard  hybrid  vessel  Ascendant  Justice-Gettysburg,  station-keeping  in  Eridanus  system.
　　Time  was  running  out.
　　Dr.  Halsey  could  feel  the  Covenant  nearly  upon  them  and  her  window  of  opportunity  shrinking  to  a  pinpoint.  Only  a  few  more  things  to  take  care  of  before  she  could  go—before  she  started  something  she  couldn't  stop.
　　Someone  approached  the  clean  room,  heavy  footfalls  that  could  only  be  a  Spartan  in  MJOLNIR  armor.  Kelly  appeared  and  waved  from  the  other  side  of  the  glass  partition  that  separated  the  clean  room  from  the  rest  of  Medical  Four.  Dr.  Halsey  buzzed  her  in.
　　"Reporting  for  treatment,  Doctor,"  she  said.
　　Kelly  hesitated  a  moment  as  she  glanced  about  at  the  unsterile  environment  the  doctor  had  been  working  in:  Styrofoam  cups  littered  the  surgical  instrument  trays,  thermal  printout  paper  curled  from  the  biomonitors—and  the  radiation-emitting  crystal  they  had  found  on  Reach  sat  on  a  nearby  instrument  tray.
　　"I  thought  that  crystal  was  in  the  reactor  room,"  Kelly  said.  "Behind  plenty  of  radiation  shielding."
　　"It's  perfectly  safe,"  Dr.  Halsey  said,  "as  long  as  we're  in  nor?mal  space."  She  picked  up  the  crystal  and  slipped  it  carelessly  into  her  lab  coat  pocket.
　　"Lie  down  please,  Kelly."  The  doctor  gestured  to  the  con?toured  treatment  chair.  "Just  a  few  more  injections  and  we're  done  with  your  burn  therapy."
　　Kelly  sighed  and  eased  herself  onto  the  reclined  chair.
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　　Dr.  Halsey  removed  a  cloth  covering  a  pair  of  injectors.  She  clicked  them  into  the  ports  on  Kelly's  MJOLNIR  armor  ports  that  threaded  directly  into  her  subclavian  and  femoral  veins.  "Keep  doing  your  physical  therapy,  and  the  dermacortic  steroids  will  remove  most  of  the  scarring  and  restore  your  full  mobility  within  another  week,"  she  explained.