Halo: The Cole Protocol by Tobias S. Buckell Read Free Book Online

concussion.
“Faison, this is Keyes, give me a sit rep.”
“Shaped charges on the containers, sir. Insurrectionists no doubt. Three of them attacked us when the explosions happened.”
“Any survivors?” Keyes had hoped that they’d captured them alive, to get some information out of them.
Faison cleared his throat over the air. “One. He’s with the wounded. Sir, they were shooting at us. We thought it prudent to return fire.”
“I understand that.” Keyes said. “I was hoping for intel—like how many more surprises might be waiting. You’re securing the ship, checking for others?”
“Yessir.” Faison sounded a bit annoyed. “Of course, sir. And an emergency beacon has been triggered to bring the Midsummer Night in with reinforcements. We’ll move right on through every inch of this boat, sir.”
“I’m sure you will,” Keyes muttered.
“And if you don’t mind, sir, I don’t need someone second guessing my orders and looking over my shoulder. All things considered, sir, you’re Navy, I’m the marine. Let’s stay out of each other’s way.”
The loud roaring in the cargo bay had grown a bit more noticeable. Keyes looked at the soldier checking the wounded over and ignored Faison’s disdain for a more immediate concern. “Son, where are we losing air from?”
“Everywhere. The explosives punched holes all over this little tub,” came a response.
“Wish I were a marine right now,” Keyes said, looking around at the ODSTs. “I’m not in vacuumproof armor.”
“We’ll think of something,” the Helljumper said, glancing over at the Pelican.
Keyes tapped his earpiece. “Jeffries, Keyes here. Acknowledge.”
Silence.
With a grunt Keyes got to his feet and stumbled over to the container. He leaned against it and slid around the corner.
He stared at the gaping hole in the side of the Pelican.
“They pulled him out, sir.” Another Helljumper tapped Keyes on the shoulder. “We pumped him full of foam; he’s in bad shape. But Midsummer Night should jockey in here soon. We’ll have them transferred over.”
Keyes looked at the line of wounded and dead ODSTs. These were the best of the best. Ask for volunteers to hold a line and kick ass, they were the first with their hands up. Happy to face the long odds, happy to face the enemy in the eye.
All dead from a routine boarding.
From a trick.
Keyes knew there could be more. He turned to the one Finnegan’s Wake crewman still alive. He was lying on the deck with the wounded. A Helljumper sat near him, keeping a pulse.
Keyes looked around the cargo bay. Think laterally, he told himself. This wasn’t a typical fight; he needed to think a step ahead.
The Helljumpers were combing the ship for more Innies. They’d need transport off the ship once they’d combed it, since the Pelican they’d come in on was holed. Keyes triggered the Midsummer Night’s ship-to-ship channel and tried to make contact, but got nothing.
Keyes bit his lip. “Commander Faison, Keyes here. Did you trigger the beacon calling the Midsummer Night in?”
“Faison here. No, sir.”
“Then who did?” Keyes felt a cold stab of fear. They could all hear the beacon just by flipping to the emergency channel. A steady series of digital beeps tapping out a number code that, when translated, told any UNSC listening: men down, need backup and medical assistance with all possible speed.
“I don’t know, sir.” Faison said, annoyed. “We’re in the middle of sweeping the ship…”
“Commander, I’m pulling rank. I’m ordering you to stop the sweep, get a response from every single marine under your command. I want to know who set the beacon off.”
“Yessir,” came Faison’s clipped reply in Keyes’ ear. “Don’t suppose you want me to interview any of the dead, sir? Could be somewhat difficult.” The Helljumper’s passive-agressiveness was turning into anger. Faison obviously wanted to kick back. And hard.
“No, Faison. We’ll do that here.” Keyes turned to the