Halo Genesis - Part I: The Argo

Chapter Two - Continued

Dozens of aviators, navigators, technicians, crew chiefs, and any other figure of the flying community you could imagine walked briskly towards the secured hangar bay. An unusual addendum to the mix was a host of Intel analysts and ONI agents. The entourage cycled through a giant airlock normally meant to pass equipment through.

Banga, Selonke, Brahm, Dufraine, Pryor, and Holmes were among the first to clear the threshold. Echoes were plentiful in this cavernous expanse of the hangar bay normally meant to house entire squadrons of smaller, fighter-class vessels.

Ahead was a single space-faring vessel, a small section of hastily erected bleachers, a few rows of chairs, a podium and its accompanying PA system in the periphery, and a few high-ranking officers mulling around. There were already a few spectators seated, such as more ONI suits, higher-echelon political figures, and any other type of civilian that had ‘the need to know’. Past all the ruckus was Reach trying to squeeze in an appearance through the meter-thick, plexi-plate view ports.

Banga and his crew were instructed to take their seats in the first row of chairs. A few moments went by and then a commanding voice resounded through the hangar bay. “Admiral on deck!”

All the people present, minus civilians, stood in unison as a very high-ranking admiral stepped forth from the rear where the equipment airlock was. He strode past the bleachers, past the rows of chairs on either side of him, past all the occupants standing like statues, and towards the podium. Accompanying him was the Command Sergeant Major of Reach—the one who called the room to attention. They both stepped towards the podium as all the occupants kept their rigid stance.

Once to the stage, the Sergeant took his place just behind the Commander, then the Commander spoke up.

“At ease.”

Everyone took their seats. Banga glanced once more at the ship in the background before the Admiral was about to deliver his inevitable speech. She was roughly one hundred meters from stem to stern by Banga’s estimation, easily engulfing the speaker and the viewers present. Was it his crew’s? Or was it a static display that authoritative figures in the military always favored?

“As most of you already know, contact with the colony of Harvest has been severed. Shortly before this misfortune, Harvest’s orbital platform picked up an unidentifiable ship at long range. We strongly believe it to be extraterrestrial.”

Some of the spectators who were uninformed to the new incident were stunned. You didn’t even need to look around. You could feel the tension. Banga looked his men over as they exchanged smug glances with one another, already knowing the situation, and maintaining a conceited silence.

“Don’t get ahead of yourselves,” the Commander stressed loudly over the ambiance of the murmuring crowd. “We don’t know if there is trouble or not.” Once there was a substantial lull in the hum of the audience, the Admiral resumed. “We don’t know much about the visitors since the colony failed to report in after initial contact. What we do know is that we must investigate. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the crew of the Argo,” he said as he gestured a hand to Banga and his men.”

The Sergeant in the background smartly raised an upward palm, motioning them to stand and come forth. They each complied and gathered around the Admiral. He went to each member and shook each one’s hand while camera flashes winked on amongst the crowd. He returned to the podium. “These brave men will carry on the inquest of all mankind, hopefully to a brighter future with a new intelligent species. Good luck and God’s speed to you all.”

After more hand shaking, pictures, and greetings with the crowd, the crew was ushered off behind some novelty-like ropes where the ship was—past a trio of armed guards.

As he walked closer to his new ship, Banga noted the streamer painted on the tailfin. It was the picture of a boat—an ancient one—one that traverses an ocean. Its forward tip was highlighted in gold and it reminded him of his studies in ancient mythology. It was the boat in which Jason sailed in quest of the Golden Fleece. The bow of the Argo was a gift from Athena, and had the power of speech and could warn of impending danger.

Argo was a fitting namesake indeed. Maybe the Admiralty weren’t as uncultured as Brad always thought.

Colonel Sherr was there along with a few enlisted types whom none of the crew had ever met.

“Banga,” the Colonel beckoned.

Brad quickly joined Sherr. “Yes sir.”

“This is the ship you’ll be taking to Harvest. It’s one of a kind, built for missions like this. Take good care of her. These men will get you acquainted with it. Good luck. And listen…

”…You’re not heroes today, just scouts. You see trouble, you come back. Clear?”

“Yes sir.”

“I’ve talked with ONI and we have an understanding. You’ll find some last resorts on the Argo for all the reasons they could think of. But mostly, it’s for the reasons we can’t think of.

“Thank you, sir.”

Banga tried not to pay any mind to it, but he had a nauseating hunch that this may be the last time he’d ever see Sherr again, but that sensation was expected on a mission like this. There was no getting around it. You just had to focus on what mattered and the feeling would eventually subside. He beat down the urge to ruminate over his wife’s words echoing in the back of his mind.

“Sir,” an enlisted technician spoke. “Let’s take a look inside. I’ll show you the ****pit.”

The other noncoms rounded up the rest of Banga’s crew and showed them their respective areas of the ship—Selonke to the NAV terminal, Brahm to the communications consoles, Dufraine to the munitions hold, Pryor to the avionics and engine room, and Holmes to the weapons station.

Once inside the ****pit, Banga found himself quite familiar with the controls.

“Sir, you’ll notice that we’ve adapted most of the avionics from a B-22 Buzzard, the ship you normally fly.”

“Damn Buzzards. Good stuff,” Banga said as he slapped his flight cap against his thigh. “So this’ll be a walk in the park for me and my men?”

“You bet, sir.”

Banga took a few more moments to familiarize himself with the controls to make sure nothing was left a mystery for the mission to come. He wanted all angles covered.

Master Sergeant Pryor, the crew chief responsible for most of the equipment on the ship was in the rear hold with a couple of other technicians like himself. Banga approached his side.

“What do you think?”

“I love it,” Pryor replied. “This has got to be an industry first here. Look at the propulsion systems. Notice anything?”

“Hell, I don’t know what you wrench boys do back there,” Banga said jokingly. “What am I looking at?”

“You’re looking at a hot-swappable translight engine, that’s what! If this thing needs maintenance, no space walks for me. I can run all the repairs from inside the ship. Not only that, but the architecture of this thing…it’s like the depots and the R&D boys actually talk to each other now. Even though repair time is cut in half, this baby will never need one.”

Pryor peeked around the tail end of the cargo bay to see if any un-allowed spectators were watching any of this. “This is the real deal, boss. What other kind of doodads are in here?”

“C’mon,” Banga said. “I’ll show you.”

After Banga gave Pryor a tour of the ****pit, they ran into comm. officer John Brahm. “Guys,” Brahm whispered. “Do you realize how much this ship is worth? The stuff in here only works in theory right now, or so I thought. These electronics aren’t even supposed to be revealed to people like us you know. They’re gonna reassign us when we’re done with the mission. I know it.”

“Tell me about it,” Sergeant Pryor said. “I read up on this from time to time. This is not child’s play. This is the whole tamale. I’m a little nervous just working with the stuff.”

“So what have you got?” Banga asked Brahm.

“I’ve got the best signal arrays you can ask for. Everything; all frequencies at my disposal. I’ve got all the crypto you can imagine. Also…” He bent lower and his voice sank to a whisper. “…Ever heard of a contractor called Prowler?”

“Nope,” said Banga “Can’t say that I have.”

Pryor shook his head.

“It’s a government-contracted agency. They make airframes and various electronics for the CMA. The government won’t even trust its own people with this stuff. They have these top-bid civilians go for the big bucks when they need an ultra-classified piece of equipment made. It’s all in here.”

“What, exactly?” Pryor asked.

“Sensory-eclipsing technology—beyond state of the art. You’d need a doctorate just to understand the theory behind it.”

“How do you know of it?”

“Every once in a while you hear from those friends in your career field that knows of a friend, who ran into a friend, who knows a guy, who’s worked with it on a mission…you know.”

“So it’s like electronic warfare?”

“Exactly, just to the extreme. Today’s stealth and jamming has its limitations, as always, but not Prowler electronics. You just…aren’t there. Period.”

“So basically, you’re saying we can disappear?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” Banga affirmed. “We may need that in case you-know-who decides they don’t like us. Let’s go see the others.”

The three made their way through a few tight bulkheads and nearly bumped heads with MUNS officer Dufraine. He already knew the look on their faces. “Don’t say anything,” Dufraine said, peering into a monitor that illustrated the starboard view. He made sure no one could hear them. “Follow me.”

He led them deep into the bowels of the ship, into the weapons hold. “They’re really not taking any chances. Look at this,” he gestured to a small compartment. Etched on a half-meter thick window was TO BE OPENED ONLY BY PERSONNEL AUTHORIZED ACCESS TO CNWDI MATERIAL. Beyond the marking was a strange ring of conical devices. “This is a nuclear warhead.”

“Just one?” Pryor asked. “It looks like a bunch of ‘em daisy chained together.”

“It is. Nine nuclear warheads acting as one giant one. This is a NOVA. A planet-killer.”

“Good God.”

Dufraine, the guy that was always cool under pressure, the guy that loved to blow stuff up, took a deep breath and blinked a few times. “Good God indeed, my friends.”

“They thought of everything alright,” Banga speculated.

“I sure as hell don’t want to use this thing.”

“So what else do we have that doesn’t involve mass destruction on a planetary scale,” Pryor joked.

“We have a single gauss cannon mounted under the belly. We have a few heat-seeking missiles, standard batch of space mines, and twin fifty millimeter chain guns…nice lineup,” he finished with a subtle thrill trailing his voice.

“Hey I know you’re the expert and all, so what’s a gauss cannon?” asked Brahm.

“It’s a conventional round—non-nuclear. Giant magnetic coils wound on both sides of a tube propel a large and dense, metal slug towards a target at hypersonic velocity. Effectively, it pummels the ever-living crap out of it.”

“Sounds brutish.”

“It is,” Dufraine replied with a devious smile.

“Alright,” said Banga. “Let’s see what Selonke has to say about the ship’s navigation.”

They all made their way back to the head of the ship and met First Lieutenant Jeff Selonke at the NAV terminal. “Like what you see, Jeff?” asked Banga.

“Sure do. I’ve got the whole damn galaxy mapped. Well, not really, but you get the idea. I can plot you a course to anywhere in under a second.”

“Well, from the sound of it, we’ll need that if we encounter some unfriendlies.”

Selonke hung his head and a spell of silence overtook the ****pit.

“…But that’s not going to happen,” Banga coaxed. “Here…let’s check on Holmes and then maybe we can get this flight over with…get some shore leave at Harvest.”

“Amen to that,” shouted Brahm.

Second Lieutenant Holmes was already on his way up to the ****pit and approached the crew. “Wow.”

“What do you have there, Holmes.”

“I’ve got the targeting resolutions of a longsword. If we run into trouble, they’re as good as dead. This thing is a flying tank.”

Banga took an explosive breath. “Alright, boys, they’ve pulled out all the stops for us. Now does anyone not want to go?” he finished with a steadfast smile.