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156
HALO: FIRST STRIKE
string of honorifics attached to their responses there's supposed
to be someone of extreme high rank commanding this ship,
someone they referred to, among other things, as the 'Guardian
of the Luminous Key.' "
"Damn silly name," muttered Sergeant Johnson.
"Can you tell what they're doing down there, Cortana?" the
Lieutenant asked.
"Not yet," she replied. "Their language doesn't translate in a
literal manner, and each word has multiple meanings. There's
something they consider holy—there are ten times as many reli-
gious allusions than in their typical communiques. Hang on . . .
picking up a new signal. Weaker than the others. Not on a Cove-
nant frequency. It's the UNSC E-band."
Lieutenant Haverson licked his lips. "Play it," he said.
A message beeped through the speakers, six tones, then a
two-second pause; it repeated.
The Master Chief stiffened.
"That's it," Cortana said. "Just those six notes over and over. It
originates here." A tiny NAV triangle appeared on the edge of
the intact region on the planet's surface.
"It's not Morse code," Polaski said. "Not any code I've heard
of. Maybe it's a test signal? Something automated, like an
air-traffic repeater relay, maybe?"
"It's not automated," the Master Chief said. "Everyone gear
up and get ready. We're going down there. There are Spartans
down there. And they're still alive."
He whispered so softly that only he and Cortana heard: "Oly
Oly Oxen Free."