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ERIC NYLUND
119
"It was a good idea," he told Kelly. "We'll recon the shaft.
Maybe it's not completely collapsed. Will you—"
A mechanism thunked and then hummed within the titanic
door. There was a hiss as the seams parted, and the meter-thick
door swung inward on perfectly balanced, silent hinges.
Bright light flooded the passage. A silhouetted figure stood on
the threshold. As Fred's display compensated and enhanced the
image, he saw it was human, slight of figure, female. She wore a
gray pleated skirt and a white lab coat with a data pad stuffed
into the breast pocket. He caught the glimmer of her eyeglasses,
black-rimmed with faint bifocal lines. Her gray hair was coiled
into a tight bun.
But it was her face that caught and held his focus—he recog-
nized the tight smooth skin that wrinkled only in the comers of
her mouth and her gray-blue eyes. She was the intellect behind
the SPARTAN-II program, and the one who'd invented their
MJOLNIR armor.
She was Dr. Catherine Halsey.