HALO® THE FLOOD NOVELS IN THE NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING HALO ® SERIES Halo®: The Fall of Reach by Eric Nylund Halo®. A sequel to Halo: the covenant. Chief has recovered from his injry and is leading his men to victory from the enemy. What else could go wrong?. Halo: The Flood (Halo series) by William C. Dietz. Read online.
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All HALO novels combined in bestthing.info file.. no password. zero virus A gift to all our awesome Page Members bestthing.info?dhccacpud1eqycj. Halo Download eBooks. Halo: The Flood · William C. Dietz. of 11, users . The Halo Effect · Anne D. LeClaire. of 5, users. Halo: The Fall of Reach. HALO has 94 entries in the series. (). cover image of Halo--Mortal Dictata The Flood. HALO (Series). William C. Dietz Author Todd McLaren Narrator.
Right now, though, he was so tired that even the discomfort of cryorevival sounded appealing if it meant that he could manage some uninterrupted sleep. Of course, it was difficult to complain; Captain Keyes was a brilliant tactician-and everyone aboard the Autumn knew just how close they'd come to destruction when Reach fell to the enemy. A major naval base destroyed, millions dead or dying as the Covenant burned the planet to a cinder-and one of Earth's few remaining defenses transformed into corpses and molten slag.
All in all, they'd been damned lucky to get away-but Sam couldn't help but feel that everyone on the Autumn was living on borrowed time. The intercom buzzed again, and Sam swung himself out of the bunk.
He jabbed at the comm control. I'm not a cryo specialist. The Captain wants it kept off the comm," Shephard replied, his voice almost a whisper. He'd known Thom Shephard since the Academy and had never heard the man sound so grim. Like it or not, that's you, pal. You've cross-checked on cryo systems. Dump it to a portable 'pad, grab your gear and get down here.
He stood, shrugged into his uniform tunic, and stepped over to his terminal. He activated the computer and waited for the upload from Shephard. As he waited, his eyes locked on a small 2-D photograph taped to the edge of the screen.
Sam brushed his fingers against the photo. The pretty young woman frozen in the picture smiled back at him. The terminal chimed as the feed from Shephard appeared in Sam's message queue.
I cannot get over how good Last Light was!
He opened the file. A frown creased his tired features as a new message scrolled across his screen. He hadn't seen Ellen in almost three years-since his last shore leave on Earth, in fact.
He didn't know anyone on active duty who'd been able to see their loved ones for years. The war simply didn't allow for it.
So Contact Harvest
Sam's frown deepened. UNSC personnel generally avoided talking about the people back home. The war had been going badly for so long that morale was rock-bottom. Thinking about the home front only made things worse. The fact that Thom had personalized the security encoding was unusual enough; reminding Sam of his wife in the process was completely out of character for Chief Shephard. Someone was being security-conscious to the point of paranoia.
He punched in a series of numbers-the date of his wedding-and enabled the decryption suite.
In seconds, the screen filled with schematics and tech readouts. His practiced eye scanned the file-and adrenaline suddenly spiked through his fatigue like a bolt of lightning. Get down to Cryo Two on the double, Sam. We've got an important package to thaw out-and we drop back into real space soon. He killed the intercom connection, his exhaustion forgotten.
Sam quickly dumped the tech file to his portable compad and deleted the original from his computer. He strode toward the door to his cabin, then stopped. He snatched Ellen's picture from the workstation-almost as an afterthought-and shoved it into his pocket.
He sprinted for the lift.
If the Captain wanted the inhabitant of Cryo Two revived, it meant that Keyes believed that the situation was about to go from bad to worse. Unlike vessels designed by humans-in which the command area was almost always located toward the ship's bow-Covenant ships were constructed in a more logical fashion, which meant that their control rooms were buried deep within heavily armored hulls, making them impervious to anything less than a mortal blow.
The differences did not end there. Rather than surround themselves with all manner of control interfaces, plus the lesser beings required to staff them, the Elites preferred to command from the center of an ascetically barren platform held in place by a latticework of opposing gravity beams.
However, none of these things were at the forefront of Ship Master Orna 'Fulsamee's mind as he stood at the center of his destroyer's control room and stared at the data projections which appeared to float in front of him. One showed the ringworld, Halo. Near that, a tiny arrow tracked the interloper's course.
A third scrolled a constant flow of targeting data and sensor readouts. He fought a moment of revulsion. That these filthy primates somehow merited an actual name-let alone names for their inferior constructs-galled him to his core. It was perverse. Names implied legitimacy, and the vermin deserved only extermination. The humans had "names" for his own kind-"Elites"-as well as the lesser races of the Covenant: He paused, and regained his composure.
Such is the Prophets' decree, he thought. One didn't question such things, even when one was a Ship Master. The Prophets had assigned names to the enemy craft, and he would honor their decrees.
Epub The Flood (Halo)
Any less was a disgraceful dereliction of duty. Like all of his kind, the Covenant officer appeared to be larger than he actually was, due to the armor that he wore.
It gave him an angular, somewhat hunched appearance which, when combined with a heavy, pugnacious jaw, caused him to look like what he was: The being who floated next to 'Fulsamee bobbed slightly as a gust of air nudged his heavily swathed body. He wore a tall, ornate headpiece made of metal and set with amber panels.
The Prophet had a serpentine neck, a triangular skull, and two bright green eyes which glittered with malevolent intelligence. He wore a red overrobe, a gold underrobe, and beneath the fabric, an anti-grav throne which served to keep him suspended one full unit off the deck. Though only a Minor Prophet, he still outranked 'Fulsamee, as his bearing made clear.
True Sayings aside, the Ship Master couldn't help but be reminded of the tiny, squealing rodents he had hunted in his childhood. He immediately banished the memory of blood on his claws and returned his attention to the Prophet, and his tiresome assistant.
The assistant, a lower-rank Elite named Bako 'Ikaporamee, stepped forward to speak on the Prophet's behalf. He had an annoying tendency to use the royal "we," a habit that angered 'Fulsamee.
Halo: The Flood
Even his demeanor dripped with condescension, a fact which made the Ship Master angry, but couldn't be addressed. Not directly, and certainly not with the Prophet present, although 'Fulsamee wasn't willing to cave in completely. This ringworld was an excellent example of the ancients' power.
A symbol glowed red. Launch on my command. We forbid it. The human vessel is much too close to the construct!
What if your weapons were to damage the holy relic? Pursue the ship, board it, and seize control. Anything else is far too dangerous. Is this acceptable? He again clicked his lower mandibles, and touched the light panel.
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It's the boogeyman that lurks in dark Forerunner corners. He wore a red overrobe, a gold underrobe, and beneath the fabric, an anti-grav throne which served to keep him suspended one full unit off the deck.
Copyright infringement is against the law. Rather than surround themselves with all manner of control interfaces, plus the lesser beings required to staff them, the Elites preferred to command from the center of an ascetically barren platform held in place by a latticework of opposing gravity beams.
The Flood. Launch on my command. Getting this book is simple and easy. UNSC personnel generally avoided talking about the people back home.
Dietz explores a lot of the stuff that was simply inferred during the game.