by Eric Nylund
“That is correct,” Dr. Halsey said.
“How much damage can they take before the system is breached?”
“That is what you will learn here today, Master Chief. I think you’ll find that we have several challenges in store for you to see how much punishment the suit can take.”
He nodded. He was ready for the challenge. After weeks spent traveling in Slipspace, he was long overdue for a workout.
John slid back his helmet visor and turned to face Dr. Halsey. “You said there were two major system improvements, Doctor?”
She nodded and smiled. “Yes, of course. ” She reached into her lab coat and withdrew a clear cube. “I doubt you’ve ever seen one of these before. It is the memory-processor core of an AI.”
“Like Déjà?”
“Yes, like your former teacher. But this AI is slightly different. I’d like to introduce you to Cortana.”
The Master Chief looked around the tent. He saw no computer interface or holographic projectors. He cocked an eyebrow at Dr. Halsey.
“There is a new layer sandwiched between the reactive circuits and the inner biolayers of your armor,” Dr. Halsey explained. “It is a weave of additional memory-processor super-conductor.”
“The same material as an AI’s core.”
“Yes,” Dr. Halsey replied. “An accurate analysis. Your armor will carry Cortana. The MJOLNIR system has the nearly the same capacity as a ship-borne AI system. Cortana will interface between you and the suit and provide tactical and strategic information for you in the field.”
“I’m not sure I understand.”
“Cortana has been programmed with every ONI computer insurgency routine,” Dr. Halsey told him. “And she has a talent for modifying them on the fly. She has our best Covenant-language-translation software as well. Her primary purpose is to infiltrate their computer and communications systems. She will intercept and decode point-to-point Covenant transmissions and give you updated intelligence in the field.”
Intel support in an operation where there had been no reconnaissance. The Master Chief liked that. It would level the playing field significantly.
“This AI is the computer specialist we’ll be taking onto the Covenant ship,” the Master Chief said.
“Yes... and more. Her presence will allow you to utilize the suit more effectively.”
John had a sudden flash—AIs handled a great deal of point defense during Naval operations. “Can she control the MJOLNIR armor?” He wasn’t sure he liked that.
“No. Cortana resides in the interface between your mind and the suit, Master Chief. You will find your reaction time greatly improved. She will be translating the impulses in your motor cortex directly into motion—she can’t make you send those impulses.”
“This AI,” he said, “will be inside my mind?” That must have been what that “upgrade” to his standard-issue UNSC computer interface had been for.
“That is the question, isn’t it?” Halsey replied. “I can’t answer that, Master Chief. Not scientifically.”
“I’m not sure I understand, Doctor.”
“What is the mind, really? Intuition, reason, emotion—we acknowledge they exist, but we still don’t know what makes the human mind work.” She paused, searching for the right words. “We model AIs on human neural networks—on electrical signals in the brain—because we just know that the human brain works... but not how, or why. Cortana resides ‘between’ your mind and the suit, interpreting the electrochemical messages in your brain and transferring them to the suit via your neural implant.
“So, for lack of a better term, yes, Cortana will be ‘inside’ your mind.”
“Ma’am, my priority will be to complete this mission. This AI—Cortana—may have conflicting directives.”
“There is no need to worry, Master Chief. Cortana has the same mission parameters as you do. She will do anything necessary to make sure that your mission is accomplished. Even if that means sacrificing herself—or you—to accomplish it.”
The Master Chief exhaled, relieved.
“Now, please kneel down. It’s time to insert her memory-processor matrix into the socket at the base of your neck.”
The Master Chief knelt. There was a hissing noise, a pop, and then cold liquid poured into the Master Chief’s mind; a spike of pain jammed into his forehead, then faded.
“Not a lot of room in here,” a smooth female voice said. “Hello, Master Chief.”
Did this AI have a rank? Certainly, she was not a civilian—or a fellow soldier. Should he treat her like any other piece of UNSC-issued equipment? Then again, he treated his equipment with the respect it deserved. He made sure every gun and knife was cleaned and inspected after every mission.
It was unsettling... he could hear Cortana’s voice through his helmet speakers, but it also felt like she was speaking inside his head. “Hello, Cortana.”
“Hmm... I’m detecting a high degree of cerebral cortex activity. You’re not the muscle-bound automatons the press makes you out to be.”
“Automaton?” the Master Chief whispered. “Interesting choice of words for an artificial intelligence.”
Dr. Halsey watched the Master Chief with great interest. “You must forgive Cortana, Master Chief. She is somewhat high-spirited. You may have to allow for behavioral quirks.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I think we should begin the test straightaway. There’s no better way for the two of you to get acquainted than in simulated combat.”
“No one said anything about combat,” Cortana said.
“The ONI brass have arranged a test for you and the new MJOLNIR system,” Dr. Halsey said. “There are some that believe you two are not up to our proposed mission.”
“Ma’am!” The Master Chief snapped to attention. “I’m up for it, ma’am!”
“I know you are, Master Chief. Others... require proof.” She looked around at the shadows cast by the Marines outside the fabric walls of the command dome. “You hardly need a reminder to be prepared for anything... but stay on your guard, just the same.”
Dr. Halsey’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I think some of the ONI brass would prefer to see you fail this test, Master Chief. And they may have arranged to make sure you do—regardless of your performance.”
“I won’t fail, Doctor.”
Her forehead wrinkled with worry lines, but then they quickly disappeared. “I know you won’t.”
She stepped back, and dropped her conspiratorial whisper. “Master Chief, you are ordered to count to ten after I leave. After that, make your way to the obstacle course. At the far end is a bell. Your goal will be to ring it.” She paused, then added, “You are authorized to neutralize any threats in order to achieve this objective.”
“Affirmative,” the Master Chief said. Enough uncertainty—now he had an objective, and rules of engagement.
“Be careful, Master Chief,” Dr. Halsey said quietly. She gestured at the pair of technicians to follow her, then turned and walked out of the tent.
The Master Chief didn’t understand why Dr. Halsey thought he was in real danger—he didn’t have to understand the reason. All he needed to know was that danger was present.
He knew how to handle danger.
“Uploading combat protocols now,” Cortana said. “Initiating electronic detection algorithms. Boosting neural interface performance to eighty-five percent. I’m ready when you are, Master Chief.”
The Master Chief heard metallic clacks around the tent.
“Analyzing sound pattern,” Cortana said. “Database match. Identified as—”
“As someone cycling the bolt of an MA5B assault rifle. I know. Standard-issue weapons for Orbital Drop Shock Troopers.”
“Since you’re ‘in the know,’ Master Chief,” Cortana quipped. “I assume you have a plan.”
John snapped his helmet visor back down and sealed the armor’s environment system. “Yes.”
“Presumably your plan doesn’t involve gettin
g shot... ?”
“No.”
“So, what’s the plan?” Cortana sounded worried.
“I’m going to finish counting to ten.”
John heard Cortana sigh in frustration. John shook his head in puzzlement. He’d never encountered a so-called smart AI before. Cortana sounded... like a human.
Worse, she sounded like a civilian. This was going to take a lot of getting used to.
Shadows moved along the wall of the tent—motion from outside.
Eight.
There was a snag in this mission and he hadn’t even reached the obstacle course. He would have to engage his fellow soldiers. He pushed aside any questions about why. He had his orders and he would follow them. He had dealt with ODSTs before.
Nine.
Three soldiers entered the tent, moving in slow motion—black-armored figures, helmets snug over their faces, crouched low, and their rifles leveled. Two took flanking positions. The one in the middle opened fire.
Ten.
The Master Chief blurred into motion. He dove from the activation platform and—before the soldiers could adjust their aim—landed in their midst. He rolled to his feet right next to the soldier who fired first, and grabbed the man’s rifle.
John brutally yanked the weapon away from the soldier. There was a loud cracking sound as the man’s shoulder dislocated. The wounded trooper stumbled forward, off balance. John spun the rifle and slammed the butt of the weapon into the soldier’s side. The man exhaled explosively as his ribs cracked. He grunted, and fell unceremoniously to the floor, unconscious.
John spun to face the left-flank gunner, assault rifle leveled at the man’s head instantly. He had the man in his sights, but he still had time—the soldier was not quite in position. To John’s enhanced senses, amped up by Cortana and the neural interface, the rifleman seemed to be moving in slow motion. Too slow.
The Master Chief lashed out with the rifle butt again. The trooper’s head snapped back from the sudden, powerful blow. He flipped head over tail and slammed into the ground. John sized the man’s condition up with a practiced eye: shock, concussion, fractured vertebrae.
Gunner number two was out of the fight.
The remaining gunner completed his turn and opened fire. A three-round burst ricocheted off the MJOLNIR armor’s energy shield. The shield’s recharge bar flickered a hairbreadth.
Before the soldier could react, the Master Chief sidestepped and slammed his own rifle down—hard. The trooper screamed as his leg gave out. A jagged spoke of bone burst through the wounded man’s fatigues. The Master chief finished him with a rifle butt to his helmeted head.
John checked the condition of the rifle, and—satisfied that it was in working order—began to pull ammo clips from the fallen soldiers’ belt pouches. The lead soldier also carried a razor-edged combat knife; John grabbed it.
“You could have killed them,” Cortana said. “Why didn’t you?”
“My orders gave me permission to ‘neutralize’ threats,” he replied. “They aren’t threats anymore.”
“Semantics,” Cortana replied. She sounded amused. “I can’t argue with the results, though—” She broke off, suddenly. “New targets. Seven contacts on the motion tracker,” Cortana reported. “We’re surrounded.”
Seven more soldiers. The Master Chief could open fire now and kill them all. Under any other circumstances, he would have removed such threats. But their MA5Bs were no immediate danger to him... and the UNSC could use every soldier to fight the Covenant.
He strode to the center pole of the tent, and with a yank, he pulled it free. As the roof fluttered down, he slashed a slit in the tent fabric and shoved through.
He faced three Marines; they fired—the Master Chief deftly jumped to one side. He sprang toward them and lashed out with the steel pole, swiped out their legs. He heard bones crack—followed by screams of pain.
The Master Chief turned as the tent finished collapsing. The remaining four men could see him now. One reached for a grenade on his belt. The other three tracked him with their assault rifles.
The Master Chief threw the pole like a javelin at the man with the grenade. It impacted in his sternum and he fell with a whoopf.
The grenade, minus the pin, however, dropped to the ground.
The Master Chief moved and kicked the grenade. It arced over the parking lot and detonated in a cloud of smoke and shrapnel.
The three remaining Marines opened fire—spraying bullets in a full-auto fusillade. Bullets pinged off the Master Chief’s shield.
The shield status indicator blinked and dropped with each bullet impact—the sustained weapons fire was draining the shield precipitously. John tucked and rolled, narrowly avoiding an incoming burst of automatic-weapons fire, then sprang at the nearest Marine.
John launched an openhanded strike at the man’s chest. The Marine’s ribs caved in and he dropped without a sound, blood flowing from his mouth. John spun, brought his rifle up, and fired twice.
The second soldier screamed and dropped his rifle as the bullets tore through each knee. John kicked the discarded rifle, bending the barrel and rendering the weapon useless.
The last man stood frozen in place.
The Master Chief didn’t give the man time to recover; he grabbed his rifle, ripped off his bandolier of grenades, then punched his helmet. The Marine dropped.
“Mission time plus twenty-two seconds,” Cortana remarked. “Although, technically, you started to move forty milliseconds before you were ordered to.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The Master Chief slung the assault rifle and bandolier of grenades over his shoulder and ran for the shadows of the barracks. He slipped under the raised buildings and belly-crawled toward the obstacle course. No need to make himself a target for snipers... although it would be an interesting test to see what caliber of bullet these shields could deflect.
No. That kind of thinking was dangerous. The shield was useful, but under combined fire it dropped very quickly. He was tough... not invincible.
He emerged at the beginning to the obstacle course. The first part was a run over ten acres of jagged gravel. Sometimes raw recruits had to take off their boots before they crossed. Other than the pain—it was the easiest part of the course.
The Master Chief started toward the gravel yard.
“Wait,” Cortana said. “I’m picking up far infrared signals on your thermal sensors. An encrypted sequence... decoding... yes, there. It’s an activation signal for a Lotus mine. They’ve mined the field, Master Chief.”
The Master Chief froze. He’d used Lotus mines before and knew the damage they could inflict. The shaped charges ripped though the armor plate of a tank like it was no thicker than an orange peel.
This would slow him down considerably.
Not crossing the obstacle course was no option. He had his orders. He wouldn’t cheat and go around. He had to prove that he and Cortana were up for this test.
“Any ideas?” he asked.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Cortana replied. “Find the position of one mine, and I can estimate the rough position of the others based on the standard randomization procedure used by UNSC engineers.”
“Understood.”
The Master Chief grabbed a grenade, pulled the pin, counted to three, and lobbed it into the middle of the field. It bounced and exploded—sending a shock wave through the ground—tripping two of the Lotus mines. Twin plumes of gravel and dust shot into the air. The detonation shook his teeth.
He wondered if the armor’s shields could have survived that. He didn’t want to find out while he was still inside the thing. He boosted the field strength on the bottom of his boots to full.
Cortana overlaid a grid on his heads-up display. Lines flickered as she ran through the possible permutations.
“Got a match!” she said. Two dozen red circles appeared on his display. “That’s ninety-three percent accurate. The best I can do.”
“The
re are never any guarantees,” the Master Chief replied.
He stepped onto the gravel, taking short, deliberate steps. With the shields activated on the bottoms of his boots, it felt like he was skating on greased ice.
He kept his head down, picking his way between red dots on his display.
If Cortana was wrong, he probably wouldn’t even know it.
The Master Chief saw the gravel had ended. He looked up. He had made it.
“Thank you, Cortana. Well done.”
“You’re welcome ... ” Her voice trailed off. “Picking up scrambled radio frequencies on the D band. Encrypted orders from this facility to Fairchild Airfield. They’re using personal codewords, too—so I can’t tell what they’re up to. Whatever it is, I don’t like it.”
“Keep your ears open.”
“I always do.”
He ran to the next section of the obstacle course: the razor field. Here, recruits had to crawl in the mud under razor wire as their instructors fired live rounds over them. A lot of soldiers discovered whether they had the guts to deal with bullets zinging a centimeter over their heads.
Along either side of the course there was something new: three 30mm chain-guns mounted on tripods.
“Weapons emplacements are targeting us, Chief!” Cortana announced.
The Master Chief wasn’t about to wait and see if those chain-guns had a minimum-depth setting. He had no intention of crawling across the field and letting the chain-guns’ rapid rate of fire chip away at his shields.
The chain-guns clicked and started to turn.
He sprinted to the nearest tripod-mounted gun. He opened fire with his assault fire, shot the lines that powered the servos—then spun the chain-gun around to face the others.
He crouched behind the blast shield and unloaded on the adjacent gun. Chain-guns were notoriously hard to aim; they were best known for their ability to fill the air with gunfire. Cortana adjusted his targeting reticle to sync up with the chain-gun. With her help, he hit the adjacent weapon emplacements. John guided a stream of fire into the guns’ ammo packs. Moments later, in a cloud of fire and smoke, the guns fell silent... then toppled.