Halo: Evolutions, Volume I

1120 HOURS, SEPTEMBER 22, 2489 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \



COLONIAL MILITARY ADMINISTRATION SEASON OF PLENTY \



SOL SYSTEM LUNA, HIGH ORBIT \ BRIDGE LOG (VIDEO, SPATIAL



ENHANCEMENT=TRUE)



The tiny bridge of the CMA Season of Plenty had view screens and workstations crammed on every square centimeter of wall (with auxiliary stations on the ceiling and floor in case the rotating segment failed). The screens would have provided a simulated panorama of stars had not they instead been crawling with icons representing colonists, building supplies, and the raw materials to jump-start the new city dubbed ―Lazy Acres" on the hellhole of a world called Paradise Falls.



Six ensigns manned their stations, checking and rechecking every gram of mass and fuel, and balancing the energy flow of the rectors in preparation for launch. They barely had enough room to turn without bumping into one another—save Ensign Otto Seinmann, who stood aft of the captain‘s chair at Lorelei‘s interface pedestal.



The artificial intelligence hologram stood half a meter tall. Like all holograms, Lorelei‘s outer appearance reflected a chosen inner personality: a woman wearing a toga, a sickle in her belt, and a wreath of wheat crowning her head. She once again shook her head at the young ensign.



Seinmann crossed his arms over his chest. ―We‘re not done." He towered over the diminutive



hologram, two meters tall, handsome, and his dark hair short but stylishly wavy.



― We may not be done, Ensign," Lorelei replied, ―but I am. My apologies; I have a scheduled self-diagnostic to run before the jump."



The hologram vanished.



Seinmann pounded a fist onto the console.



Ensign Alexis Indara tore her gaze from the mass-balance matrix on her screen. ―Better ease up, Seinmann. You‘re going to break it."



Next to her at the fusion monitoring station, Ensign Handford murmured, ―Maybe it‘s Seinmann‘s breath. These new ‗smarter‘ AIs are supposed to be sensitive to everything."



Lieutenant Commander Nevel stepped onto the bridge. In his mid-thirties he already had that casual air of ―don‘t mess with me" that most officers couldn‘t achieve until they were at least captains. The ensigns all stood a little straighter but kept on working.



―Navigation reports no input parameters yet," Lieutenant Commander Nevel said. ―What‘s the



hold-up, Seinmann?"



Seinmann flushed, not with embarrassment, but with anger. ―Sir, Lorelei has shut herself down for routine maintenance—again."



Nevel raised an eyebrow. ―Well, we were warned it might take a while for her to come fully online.



Reboot the backup intelligence and get those calculations—" Nevel paused, looked Seinmann over, and then told him, ―On second thought, this would be a good opportunity to brush up on your Shaw multivariate calculus, Ensign. Do a rough calculation by hand. The captain expects to be under way in ninety minutes."



Seinmann opened his mouth as if to protest—then said nothing, and then finally, ―Aye, sir."



Nevel wheeled about and left the bridge.



Ensign Indara whispered, ―I think Nevel has an antique slide rule tucked away somewhere if you run out of fingers to count on."



Seinmann growled something unintelligible, grabbed a data pad, and stabbed in calculations.



After a minute of this, he looked among his fellow ensigns (all of whom were busy with their own work) until he spotted a young crewman—or rather the backside of a crewman that protruded from an open access panel to the oxygen recycling intake.



―Cole!" Seinmann barked. ―Get over here."



Crewman Apprentice Cole extracted himself from the narrow crawlspace, stood, straightened his gray coveralls, and ran a hand over his shorn hair (which was dotted with drips and spatters of grease).



The fresh-out-of-barf-school crewman looked alert and eager to please. His dark eyes met



Seinmann‘s and didn‘t waver.



―Yes, sir?"



Seinmann shoved the data pad at Cole. ―I need you to run an independent check on these numbers."



Cole‘s gaze moved to the data pad. He swallowed.



―In case you don‘t recognize them, they‘re parameters for a Shaw-Fujikawa manifold collapse."



Cole nodded and took the pad.



―You do know what a Shaw-Fujikawa manifold is, don‘t you, crewman?" There was a dangerous glint in Seinmann‘s eyes.



Cole didn‘t look up from the pad, still studying its contents. ―Yes . . . sir."



―Good. If you get stuck just look up the formulas on a workstation." With no further explanation, Seinmann picked up his coffee mug and strolled over to Indara.



Cole took the data pad and sat at a nearby station, still not moving his stare from the ensign‘s equations, but now frowning at them. He tapped in a few parameters, sighed, and erased them.



―You‘re cruel," Indara whispered to Seinmann.



―And in hot water if the lieutenant commander finds out you‘re not doing your own work,"



Handford added.



―Cruel . . . ?" Seinmann mused. ―Isn‘t that what crewmen are for?" He looked over at Cole. ―Don‘t worry about the lieutenant commander. I already have the rough calculation done."



―So why pick on Cole?" Indara asked. ―He gets his work done and doesn‘t bother anyone."



―He bothers me ," Seinmann said. ―Never shows the proper respect. Did you see the way he looked at me? And he‘s always got his nose in a library access terminal, too, reading ancient history or quantum field theory or stuff he couldn‘t possibly understand. It‘s so obviously an act."



―I still think it‘s unnecessarily cruel," Indara said.



Lieutenant Commander Nevel stepped onto the bridge.



Seinmann instantly pretended to be double-checking the seed stock in Holding Bay 4.



The AI pedestal lit and Lorelei flickered upon its surface, the lines of her face smoothed into the features of someone just waking up. ―Good afternoon, Lieutenant Commander. All primary and



secondary neural links checked. Shaw-Fujikawa parameters calculated and three-times-three



checked. All systems go. Season of Plenty ready for slipstream space transition upon the captain‘s orders."



―Very good," Nevel said. He spotted Seinmann and added, ―Oh . . . and link to Ensign Seinmann‘s data pad and check his work, please."



Seinmann strode over and whispered to Lorelei, ―I thought you said you had to run a



self-diagnostic."



―I did," Lorelei‘s admitted, ―but that‘s not all I did. I‘m not an idiot, Ensign."



The AI blinked, and then announced to Nevel in a loud voice, ―His calculations are correct, if not crude. The input parameters would have gotten the Season of Plenty there—albeit 160 million kilometers off course . . . and pathing through a brown dwarf."



The lieutenant commander frowned at Seinmann. ―Ensign, report to the captain that the Season of Plenty is shipshape and awaits his orders."



Seinmann skulked off the bridge, but as he passed Ensign Indara, she whispered, ―What about Cole? He‘s still working."



―Let him," Seinmann muttered and left.



A moment later the order came through the bridge intercom to transition to slipspace.



The bridge officers remained busy for the five hours until the shift change, and it was only then that Lieutenant Commander Nevel noticed Crewman Apprentice Cole still working at an auxiliary



workstation.



―Crewman, what precisely are you doing?"



Cole looked up; his eyes were ringed with fatigue. When he saw Nevel he immediately stood at attention. ―Sir, finishing the slipstream space calculations Ensign Seinmann ordered me to



double-check."



The lieutenant commander‘s face contorted with anger, disgust, and finally a hint of amusement.



―Very good"—his gaze fell onto the name tag of Cole‘s jumpsuit—―Crewman Cole. I‘ll take it from here. Dismissed."



―Yes, sir." Cole gathered his tools and left the bridge.



Nevel chuckled and retrieved Cole‘s data pad—then halted, gazing intently at its contents.



He moved to Lorelei‘s station. ―Did you help the crewman with this?"



The data pad flickered as Lorelei interfaced. ―No." The AI paused for a full half second. ―How intriguing. It is indeed a Shaw-Fujikawa manifold calculation, but it uses a method I have never before encountered."



―Is it correct?"



―Yes . . . even good . . . for a crude approximation. But highly impractical. It would take far too long for a human to implement such a method, and I have far superior algorithms at my disposal."



Nevel looked again at Cole‘s equations. ―But let me get this straight—this crewman actually came up with a new way of calculating input parameters?"



―That is correct."



Lieutenant Commander Nevel traced his fingers over the multidimensional, imaginary-space



calculus on the data pad. ―Hmm." His face hardened. ―Find Ensign Seinmann and have him report to the bridge. I need to remind him of the level of mathematical expertise we expect of our officers on the Plenty ."



Letter from Crewman Apprentice Preston Cole to his brother,



Michael James Cole, October 16, 2489 (Military Calendar)



Mike,



So much is going on, I just have time for a quick note. They keep me twice as busy on the Season of Plenty as I was back home—even during calving season, and I‘m trying to learn everything I can, all at once. This is exactly where I want to be. Where I was meant to be.



And some of the people that we take to the colonies! Most were rich back on Earth. Many have PhDs. But they‘re risking everything to become blacksmiths and herd sheep and throw themselves out into the great unknown. It‘s inspiring.



I want to get out there and be a part of this, too. You and Molly should join me one day. Dad would bust an artery if he heard me say that, so don‘t tell him. Or would he be proud?



The only problem I‘m having is with some of the crew—they aren‘t as easy for me to figure as a math problem. I‘m getting along, mostly. I just don‘t understand some of the junior officers. I‘m glad I don‘t have to. That‘s one of the advantages of being a crewman apprentice: we just do what we‘re told.



More soon, P.J.



{Excerpt} Bi-annual Personnel Review of CMA Season



of Plenty / November 27, 2489 (Military Calendar)



Junior Officer Summation (continued)



Ensign Handford, W. (UNSC Service Number: 00786-31761-OM)



Average performance



Ensign Indara, A. (UNSC Service Number: 00801-46332-XT)



Above average performance



Requested management training (Series 7). Request granted.



Ensign Seinmann, O. (UNSC Service Number: 00806-95321-PG)



Above average performance



Promotion to Lieutenant Junior Grade



Transferred to the CMA Laden.



Additional:



RE: Crewman Apprentice Cole, P. J. (UNSC Service



Number: 00814-13094-BQ)



Shows aptitude for history and mathematics. Suggested



by Lt. Commander Nevel and the ship‘s AI, Lorelei,



that he would be a superior applicant for the Academy at



Mare Nubium (aka Luna Officer Candidate School).



One week temporary assignment to Luna, pending



entrance examination results.