It had been the longest month of his life. Longer than when he was fighting a seemingly endless war, longer than any period of training or recuperation or surveillance, it was the longest month in the history of mankind.
Cortana had the Unngai frescoes pretty much figured out. The Chief had heard every minute detail of her referencing and cross-referencing as she attempted to make the paintings tell a story. Hed listened patiently, but couldnt have cared less if his life depended on it.
In an effort to drive off the boredom, the Master Chief had turned his attention to the radio antenna, making it increasingly taller and sturdier as time went on. He was halfway up his two-hundred meter structure, limbs woven into the framework like four more pieces of recovered metal when Cortana paged him from the ground. Good news, Chief, weve filtered enough oxygen to power your tanks for another three months!