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He started back toward the elevator, then halted. "Doc, when we were talking... you said when 'you'jump to Slipspace. You meant when 'we'jump to Slipspace, didn't you?"
Dr. Halsey locked eyes with him for a moment. Then she touched a button inside the ship, and the hatch hissed closed be?tween them.
The Master Chief stepped off the elevator and onto the bridge of the Gettysburg. Lieutenant Haverson and Admiral Whitcomb stared at the displays at Weapons Station One and Engineering.
"Sirs," the Chief said.
The Admiral waved him forward without bothering to look up.
The Chief had two tasks. First, he would inform the Admiral of his first-strike mission plan. He had to convince him there was no risk to their primary goal of returning to Earth—and a huge payoff if they succeeded. The only thing Admiral Whitcomb might object to was the high risk to his team.
The Chief's second task would be more difficult. He touched the belt pouch containing Dr. Halsey's data crystals. One was her analysis of the Flood infection mechanism and a possible way to block it. The second data crystal contained the source files of that discovery, and according to Dr. Halsey it would lead to Sergeant Johnson's undignified, and unnecessary, death.
And yet, if it gave Section Three a better chance to stop the Floods—if indeed that threat had any meaning after the destruc?tion of Halo—maybe it was worth one man's life. Maybe if Sergeant Johnson knew, he'd volunteer.
The Chief's duty was clear: He had to hand over all files to the Lieutenant—but deep down, he had to admit that it didn't feel right.
"Cortana." Admiral Whitcomb crossed his arms over his bar?rel chest. "Give me an update on our power."
Cortana's tiny image flickered to life on the holopad near the
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NAV station. She crossed her arms over her chest much as he had, and minute red symbols raced over her glowing lavender skin. "Status is nearly identical to my last report five minutes ago, Admiral. Tests on Ascendant Justice's reactor and the Get?tysburg's engines are in synch, and will be completed in forty minutes."
"Hurry," the Admiral growled. "I don't want to get stuck with?out power when unfriendlies show up. I want to get under way to Earth. Weapons status?"
"Aye, sir," Cortana said. "Plasma turret one is obliterated; no possibility of repair. Plasma turrets two, three, and four are re?paired, and although I'm waiting for power to test them, I have run three hundred twelve virtual test-firings without incident. Turrets five, six, and seven, however, require parts Governor Jiles does not have in his inventory. Two Archer missile pods on the Gettysburg have been refilled. That gives us sixteen missiles hot and ready to go, sir."
"I'd like to know where Jiles got those missiles," Lieutenant Haverson muttered. "They're UNSC military contraband."
"He is zpirate, Lieutenant," Cortana said.
"Good work," the Admiral told Cortana. "Keep me posted." He turned toward the Chief. "You had something, Master Chief?"