Halo Glassland

For my mother, who never found out how it ended

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My grateful thanks go to Frank O‟Connor, franchise development director for Halo, and Kevin Grace, franchise manager for
Halo, of 343 Industries, for being cool and always available for spitballing; Jim Gilmer, for unstinting moral support; Sam Burns, for
telling me way back that writing AIs would be right up my street; MaryFil Pletsch, Canada‟s ambassador to Sanghelios; Jerry Holkins
and Mike Krahulik of Penny Arcade, for being good mates to me in trying times; and the Rooster Teeth team, for giving me the most
fun I‟ve ever had without being arrested or popping a vertebra. Blarg!
—Karen Traviss
343 Industries would like to thank Alicia Brattin, Scott Dell‟Osso, Nick Dimitrov, David Figatner, James Frenkel,Stacy
Hague-Hill, Josh Kerwin, Bryan Koski, Matt McCloskey, Paul Patinios, Whitney Ross, Bonnie Ross-Ziegler, Matt Skelton, Phil Spencer,
Karen Traviss, and Carla Woo.
None of this would have been possible without the amazing efforts of the Microsoft staffers, including: Ben Cammarano,
Christine Finch, Kevin Grace, Tyler Jeffers, Tiffany O‟Brien, Frank O‟Connor, Jeremy Patenaude, CorrinneRobinson, Eddie Smith, and
Kiki Wolfkill.

CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
Acknowledgments
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Novels in the New York Times Bestselling Halo® Series
About the Author
CopyrightPROLOGUE
NOVEMBER 2552, LOCATION UNDEFINED. LAST VERIFIED REALSPACE LOCATION: THE CORE OF THE PLANET ONYX.
It‟s a beautiful sunny day. The oak branches are swaying gently in the breeze and the air‟s scented with unseen blossom.
And we‟re trapped.
Did you ever run and hide as a kid? Ever slam the closet door behind you, giggling because you were sure you‟d never be
found, and then realize you‟dlocked yourself in? Did you panic or breathe a sigh of relief? I suppose it all depends on what you were
hiding from.
We‟re hiding from the end of the world.
For all we know, it‟s already happened. If there‟s anyone left out there, they don‟t even know we‟re here. We may be the last
sentient life left in the galaxy—me, Chief Mendez, and a detachment of Spartans. Correction: three of mySpartans—Fred, Kelly, and
Linda—and five others who are something else entirely, five I didn‟t even know existed until this week, and if there‟s one thing I can‟t
stand, it‟s not knowing.

You‟ll explain yourself to me, Chief. I‟ve got all the time in the world now. I‟ve got more time than I know what to do with.

Mendez takes something out of his pants pocket and gazes wistfully at it like apilgrim with a holy relic before putting it back.
“You can read Forerunner, Dr. Halsey,” he says, impassive. We‟re still ignoring the elephant looming over us at the moment,
neither of us saying what‟s really on our minds. He has his secrets, and I have mine. “Do you know the symbol for pantry? That would
be handy right about now.”
He‟s staring up at a sun that can‟t possibly be there, set inan artificial sky that runs from summer blue at one horizon to
starless midnight at the other. We‟re not on Onyx any longer—not in this dimension, anyway.
“Chief, this is the most advanced doomsday bunker ever built.” I‟m not sure who I‟m trying to reassure, him or me. “A
civilization sufficiently advanced to build a bomb shelter the size of Earth‟s orbit wouldn‟t forget to address the foodsupply. Would
they?”
It‟s a permanently lovely day inside this Dyson sphere, and beyond its walls is … actually, I don‟t know any longer. It was
Onyx. Now it‟s somewhere in slipspace. Every time I think I have the measure of the Forerunners‟ technology, something else pops
up and confounds me. They must have shared our sense of beauty or bequeathed us theirs, because they made this environment...