No . . . there was no need to bother anyone over this. The only ones who would be really interested werethe high-forehead types at UNSC Astrophysics, and they could review the data at their leisure.
He logged the anomaly and attached it to his hourly update.
Ensign Lovell kicked up his boots and reclined, once again feeling perfectly safe in his little corner ofthe universe.
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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
0300 Hours, July 17, 2552 (Military Calendar) /UNSC destroyerIroquois on routine patrol in the Sigma Octanus Star System
Commander Jacob Keyes stood on the bridge of theIroquois . He leaned against the brass railing andsurveyed the stars in the distance. He wished the circumstances of his first command were moreauspicious, but experienced officers were in short supply these days. And he had his orders.
He walked around the circular bridge examining the monitors and displays of engine status. He pausedat the screens showing the stars fore and aft; he couldn’t quite get used to the view of deep space again.The stars were so vivid . . . and here, so different from the stars near Earth.
TheIroquois had rolled out of space dock at Reach—one of the UNSC’s primary naval yards—just threemonths ago. They hadn’t even installed her AI yet; like good officers, the elaborate artificially intelligentcomputer systems were also in dangerously short supply. Still,Iroquois was fast, well armored, andarmed to the teeth. He couldn’t ask for a finer vessel.
Unlike the frigates that Commander Keyes had toured on before, theMeriwether Lewis andMidsummerNight , this ship was a destroyer. She was almost as heavy as both those vessels combined, but she wasonly seven meters longer. Some in the fleet thought the massive ships were unwieldy in combat—tooslow and cumbersome. What those critics forgot was that a UNSC destroyer sported two MAC guns,twenty-six oversized Archer missile pods, and three nuclear warheads. Unlike other fleet ships, shecarried no single-ship fighters—instead her extra mass came from the nearly two meters of titanium-Abattleplate armor that covered her from stem to stern. TheIroquois could dish out and take a tremendousamount of punishment.
Someone at the shipyard had appreciated theIroquois for what she was, too—two long streaks ofcrimson war paint had been applied to her port and starboard flanks. Strictly nonregulation and it wouldhave to go . . . but secretly, Commander Keyes liked the ornamentation.
He sat in the Commander’s chair and watched his junior officers at their stations.
“Incoming transmissions,” Lieutenant Dominique reported. “Status reports from Sigma Octanus Fourand also theArchimedes Sensor Outpost.”
“Pipe them through to my monitor,” Commander Keyes said.
Dominique had been one of his students at the Academy—he had transferred to Luna from the
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Université del’ Astrophysique in Paris after his sister was killed in action. He was short, nimbly athletic,and he rarely cracked a smile—he was always business. Keyes appreciated that.