Microsoft Word - Nylund, Eric - Halo 3 - First Strike.doc by Brian Athey

Author:Brian Athey
Language: eng
Format: epub

CHAPTER NINETEEN

TIME:OATE ERROR \ Estimated 0530 hours, September 23, 2552

(Military Calendar)\Aboard captured Covenant dropship,

Epsilon Eridani system, en route to surface of Reach.

The Master Chief stood on the deck of the Covenant dropship.

He stood because the crash seats had been designed for Elites

and Jackals and none of the contours fit his human backbone. It

didn't matter—he preferred to stand.

They drifted through the upper atmosphere of Reach, de-

scending like a spider on a thousand-kilometer thread of silk.

They passed close to a hundred other ships moving in orbital

arcs—Seraph fighters, other dropships, scavenger craft with

grappling tentacles that dragged sections of salvaged metal.

Dominating the skies were a pair of three-hundred-meter-long

cruisers.

The cruisers accelerated toward them.

The Chief moved up to the cockpit where Polaski and

Haver-son sat in the seats they had removed from the Pelican

and welded in place.

"They're pinging us," Polaski whispered.

"Nice and easy, Warrant Officer," Lieutenant Haverson whispered. "Just use the programmed response Cortana gave us."

"Aye aye, Lieutenant," Polaski replied and concentrated on the Covenant scripts that scrolled across the display on her left.

"Sending now." She tapped a holographic icon.

Sergeant Johnson and Corporal Locklear stood two meters

behind the Chief, both of them nervous. Johnson chewed his

stub of cigar and scowled at the incoming Covenant warships.

174

HALO: FIRST STRIKE

Locklear's trigger finger twitched, and beads of sweat dotted his

forehead.

"Cortana has this stuff wired tight," Sergeant Johnson whispered. "No worries."

"I got plenty of worries here," Locklear muttered. "Man, I'd rather be in a HEV pod on fire and out of control than up here.

We're sitting ducks."

"Quiet," Lieutenant Haverson hissed at Locklear. "Let the lady concentrate."

Polaski kept one eye on the communications screen and one

eye on the external displays as the twin cruisers grew larger, fill-

ing the holographic space before her. Both her hands hovered

over the flight yoke, not touching it, but twitching in anticipation.

Three Seraph fighters burned out of their orbits and took a

closer pass.

"Is that an attack vector?" Lieutenant Haverson asked.

"I don't think so," Polaski said. "But it's hard to tell with those things."

Locklear inhaled deeply, and the Chief noticed that he didn't

exhale. He set his hand on the man's shoulder and pulled him

aside. "Relax, Marine," he whispered. "That's an order,"

Locklear exhaled and ran a hand over his smoothly shaven

head. "Right ... right, Chief." With effort, the Marine forced himself to calm down.

A red light flashed on the control panel. "Collision warning,"

Polaski said with the practiced nonchalance all Navy pilots had

in the face of imminent death. She reached for the yoke.

"Hold your course," the Lieutenant ordered.

"Yes, sir," she said, and released the controls. "Fighters one hundred meters and closing."

"Hold your course," Lieutenant Haverson repeated. "They're just taking a closer look," he whispered to himself, "and there's nothing to see. Nothing to see at all."

When the Seraph fighters were only ten meters away, they

tumbled to either side of the dropship. Their engine pods flared

blue and they looped overhead ... then moved to rejoin the

cruisers.

The larger ships passed directly overhead and blotted out the

sun. In the darkness, the cockpit lights automatically adjusted

ERIC NYLUND

175

and flooded the display panels with the purple-blue frequency

the Covenant favored.

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