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22
HALO: FIRST STRIKE
"Understood," Fred said. "Keep me—"
"Wait. Incoming transmission to Charlie Company from
Reach HighCom."
HighCom? Fred thought headquarters on Reach had been
overrun. "Verification codes?"
"They check out," Kelly replied.
"Patch it through."
"Charlie Company? Jake? What the hell is the holdup there?
Why haven 'tyou gotten my men out yet?"
"This is Senior Petty Officer SPARTAN-104, Red Team leader,"
Fred replied, "now in charge of Charlie Company. Identify
yourself."
"Put Lieutenant Chapman on, Spartan," an irritated voice
snapped.
"That's not possible, sir," Fred told him, instinctively realizing
that he spoke to an officer and adding the honorific. "Except for
four wounded Marines, Charlie Company is gone."
There was a long static-filled pause. "Spartan, listen to me
very carefully. This is Vice Admiral Danforth Whitcomb, Deputy
Chief of Naval Operations. Do you know who lam, son?"
"Yes, sir," Fred said, wincing as the Admiral identified him-
self. If the Covenant were eavesdropping on this transmission,
the senior officer had just made himself a giant target.
"My staff and I are pinned down in a gully southeast of where
HighCom used to be," Whitcomb continued. "Get your team
over here and extract us, on the double."
"Negative, sir, I cannot do that. I have direct orders to protect
the generator complex powering the orbital guns."
"I'm countermanding those orders," the Admiral barked. "As
of two hours ago, I have tactical command of the defense of
Reach. Now, I don't care if you 're a Spartan or Jesus Christ
walking down the damned Big Horn River—/ am giving you a
direct order. Acknowledge, Spartan."
If Admiral Whitcomb was now in charge of the defense, then
a lot of the senior brass had been put out of commission when
HQ got hit.
Fred saw a tiny amber light flashing on his heads-up display.
His biomonitor indicated an elevation in his blood pressure and
heart rate. He noticed his hands shook, almost imperceptibly.