Halo Lighting System First Strike Games - Manual (Page 51)

CHAPTER SIX
1710 hours, September 22,2552 (Military Calendar) \ Aboard
Longsword fighter, uncharted system, Halo debris field.
The Master Chief held on to the ship's frame with one hand so
he wouldn't float away in zero gee. With the other hand he
pressed the pistol deeper into Johnson's forehead.
The Sergeant's smile faded, but there was not a trace of fear in
his dark eyes. He snorted a laugh. "I get it: You think I'm in-
fected. Well, I'm not. This"—he patted his chest—"is one hun-
dred percent grade-A Marine... and nothin' else."
The Chief eased his stance but didn't lower the gun. "Explain
how that's possible."
"They got us all right, those little mushroom-shaped infec-
tious bastards," Johnson said. "They ambushed me, Jenkins, and
Keyes." He paused at the Captain's name, then shook his head
and went on. "They swarmed all over us. Jenkins and Keyes
were taken... but I guess I didn't taste too good."
"The Flood doesn't 'taste' anything," Cortana interjected. "The
Infection Forms rewrite a victim's cellular structure and convert
him into a Combat Form, then later a Carrier Form—an incubator
for more Infection Forms. Based on what we've seen, they cer-
tainly don't just decide to pass up a victim."
The Sergeant shrugged. He fished into his pocket, found the
remaining stub of a chewed cigar, and stuck it in the corner of his
mouth. "Well, I've seen different. They 'passed me up' like I was
undercooked spinach at a turkey dinner."
"Cortana," the Chief asked. "Is it possible?"
"It's possible? she carefully replied. "But it's also highly un-