Halo_ First Strike Part 25

No enemy contact. Nothing on his motion sensors, either.

He stepped close to the main-drive conduit and examined the hole. The pipe was five meters across and still red hot, even though Cortana had shut it down three minutes ago. The hole was round, a three-meter-wide gap, with ragged edges that all pointed inward.

"If that was from a plasma strike," Grace said, "the metal would have been boiled away. If it was from an impact, the edges would be sc.r.a.ped on one side, compacted on the other. This hole was deliberately made."

"Eyes sharp," John said. "We have company. My guess is camouflaged Elites. Maybe some of the original crew still alive. Blue-Three, -Four, and -Five-move out."

"Roger," Will replied.

Anton emerged from the drops.h.i.+p hefting an arc welder, while Will and Li maneuvered the three-by-three-meter hull plates.

"Fred and Grace, you're on the welders," John ordered. "Anton, post on top of the drops.h.i.+p. Li, you're at three o'clock. Will at nine. I'll take the six."

Blue acknowledgment lights winked on.

John helped Fred and Grace set the plates in position. Grace and Fred fired up the arc welder, and pinpoints of metal liquefied beneath their tips. A shower of sparks swirled around them in the evacuated environment like a swarm of fireflies.

"We're in position, Admiral," John reported. "ETA for repairs is two minutes."

"Roger, Chief," Admiral Whitcomb replied. Ionization made the channel flood with static. "When you're done, give the word and get secure-we'll be accelerating immediately."

"Yes, sir."

So far, so good, John thought. John thought. Just another minute or two. Just another minute or two.

A streamer of plasma appeared from nowhere. The tangled, crisscrossed Slips.p.a.ce around them dropped the bolt of boiling fire fifty meters overhead; it moved port to starboard-and vanished back into the void.

The COM shattered into white noise, and the motion sensors blurred... as did the active camouflage s.h.i.+elding of the six Elites who had been slowly-and until a moment ago imperceptibly- crawling toward their position.

"Enemy contacts!" John shouted.

He crouched behind the dome of a sensor node and opened fire. A hail of bullets caught the closest Elite dead-center in its chest. The gunfire punched through its s.h.i.+elding and then tore into its armor. It tumbled backward and spun off the hull.

In his peripheral vision John saw the silent muzzle flashes from his team. He glanced back; Fred and Grace hadn't moved. They stared at the beads of molten alloy under their arc welder's tip.

As if Fred could read his mind, he said, "I need another twenty seconds, Chief."

A volley of crystalline needles fired from one of the Elites peppered the sensor node. The Master Chief returned fire, but the Elite's camouflage kicked in and it faded from view.

Another plasma bolt sizzled close to the hull, this one thirty meters to port. It was a river of fire that lit the surface of Ascendant Justice Ascendant Justice like a dozen suns. John's s.h.i.+elds drained to a quarter. like a dozen suns. John's s.h.i.+elds drained to a quarter.

"Okay, Chief," Fred told him, "I'm-"

"Incoming!" Polaski cried over the COM.

John turned to the drops.h.i.+p and saw a third plasma projectile materialize from the folds of tangled Slips.p.a.ce. This one skimmed a mere three meters over the hull-straight toward them.

Will dived into the crux where the drops.h.i.+p met the hull. Fred and Grace hit the deck. Li stood his ground and fired at the Elites, muzzle flash reflected in his helmet's faceplate. Anton rose from his limited cover on top of the drops.h.i.+p, but instinctively ducked again as an Elite took a shot at him. John crouched, jumped, and propelled himself into the sheltered area between the drops.h.i.+p's mandibles.

The plasma blasted over the drops.h.i.+p like a tidal wave of fire.

Polaski screamed, and her channel went silent.

Blue-white light filled John's vision, and electrical discharges jolted his flesh and buzzed through his muscles and ligaments. Temperature warnings blared. Boiling hydrostatic gel vented through his MJOLNIR armor's emergency ducts.

Through blurry eyes, John saw the Covenant Elites flash vaporize. Downs.h.i.+p, Ascendant Justice's Ascendant Justice's hull heated to a glowing yellow and softened. hull heated to a glowing yellow and softened.

Then the light and heat vanished, and the torrent of fire trailed aft like the tail of a comet.

John craned his neck up, every muscle in his body screaming in pain. There was no trace of Li or Anton. The drops.h.i.+p's hull was melted and distorted like a wax candle caught in a blowtorch's blast.

The c.o.c.kpit and Polaski were gone.

His biosign warning blared. Will, Grace, and Fred lay next to him-dead or unconscious, he couldn't tell. He quickly attached their tethers to the deck, then clipped his own in place.

John keyed the COM. "Admiral, conduit breach is sealed, sir." "Hang on, son," Admiral Whitcomb replied. "This might be a rough ride." John slumped to the deck unconscious.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

TIME:DATE RECORD [[ERROR]]ANOMALYDate Unknown Captured Covenant flags.h.i.+p Ascendant Justice, Ascendant Justice, in anomalous Slips.p.a.ce bubble. in anomalous Slips.p.a.ce bubble.

Admiral Whitcomb stood on the bridge of Ascendant Justice. of Ascendant Justice. He gripped the edges of the railing that encircled the central raised platform and watched the sea of fire on the wall displays. He gripped the edges of the railing that encircled the central raised platform and watched the sea of fire on the wall displays.

They were stuck in this pocket of Slips.p.a.ce, trapped like an insect in amber as lines of plasma crisscrossed the region. Enemy fire vanished and reappeared, smearing the blue fog of Slips.p.a.ce with crimson streaks of glowing energy. Molten chunks of metal, the broken pieces of Covenant s.h.i.+ps, streaked past the cameras-comets that thudded into their hull.

There was another danger in the blue fog: ghost s.h.i.+ps that appeared and faded from sight... more than half of them disabled, engulfed in fire, or their hulls broken. How many of those Covenant craft were still capable of engaging Ascendant Justice"! Ascendant Justice"! How many could they take out before they risked the jump back to normal s.p.a.ce? How many could they take out before they risked the jump back to normal s.p.a.ce?

Lieutenant Haverson stood next to him. The young man was invaluable for his tactical a.s.sessments and knowledge of the Covenant. He was a bit too cautious for Whitcomb's taste- though the trait was to be expected in an ONI officer, he supposed. Still, the young Lieutenant had shown enough backbone to stand up to him. The kid definitely had some potential.

A square on the holographic controls morphed into the tiny figure of Cortana. "Sporadic plasma and ma.s.s impacts along our hull, Admiral," she reported and crossed her arms. "Atmospheric integrity down to thirteen percent. Structural integrity rated poor. I estimate the hull will fail in no more than five minutes."

"Understood," the Admiral replied.

They didn't have much choice but to play the hand that they'd been dealt. The longer they stayed in this environment, the more damage the Covenant s.h.i.+ps surrounding them incurred. If Ascendant Justice Ascendant Justice had engines, the Admiral could accelerate that process. But if they waited too long, their own s.h.i.+p would disintegrate around them. had engines, the Admiral could accelerate that process. But if they waited too long, their own s.h.i.+p would disintegrate around them.

Admiral Whitcomb glanced up to see how the rest of his crew was holding up under the pressure. Locklear paced, his hands flexing. The ODST was a weapon with its safety permanently clicked off... and on overload charge.

Sergeant Johnson stood near the sealed bulkhead, rifle slung over his shoulder. He was looking at the crew and probably formulating his own opinions about them. He was rock-solid. One glance into his dark eyes and the Admiral understood what drove the man: pure cold hatred of the enemy. The Admiral could appreciate that.

Dr. Halsey tended the Spartan called "Kelly" on the deck. The doctor was brilliant... but a total mystery to him. They had met half a dozen times before at upper-echelon social gatherings, and he'd found her to be charming and outwardly likable. But he'd read enough reports of her "projects" that he'd found it impossible to relate to her. If half the rumors he'd heard about her were true, she'd been mixed up in every black op from here to Andromeda. He didn't trust her.

"Doctor Halsey," the Admiral said. He released his grip on the railing and clasped his hands behind his back to conceal his sweaty palms. "Clear my bridge of the wounded, ASAP."

Dr. Halsey looked up from her data pad and the fluctuating patterns of Kelly's biosigns. "Admiral, I don't want to move her. She not entirely stable."

"Do it, Doctor. She's a distraction. We have a battle to fight here." Dr. Halsey shot him a look that could have stopped a plasma bolt dead in its tracks. Lieutenant Haverson stepped forward and cleared his throat. "Ma'am, there's an escape craft just off the bridge." He moved to the starboard hatch and eased it open. He drew his pistol and checked the pa.s.sage beyond. "It's clear. Locklear, Sergeant, please give the doctor a hand with her patient."

"Yes, sir," Locklear said. "Happy to sit this battle out in the escape pod."

Sergeant Johnson set his rifle on Kelly's chest and said, "Come on, Corporal, shake a leg and gimme a hand. The lady in her armor weighs more than your last date."

Locklear and the Sergeant hefted Kelly and, grunting under the load, moved her off the bridge. Dr. Halsey followed, cast one last withering look at the Admiral, and sealed the hatch behind her.

Admiral Whitcomb sighed. He felt for the Spartan... felt too much-which was the problem. He couldn't concentrate with her so close. He'd want constant status reports on her condition. h.e.l.l, he would have gone over, knelt next to her, and held her hand if that would've helped. He loved the men and women under his command as if they were his own sons and daughters. It was the old axiom of command: To be a good leader, you had to love the service. To be a great commander, you had to be willing to destroy that which you loved.

Static crackled, and the Master Chief reported in: "We're in position, Admiral. ETA for repairs is two minutes."

"Roger, Chief," Admiral Whitcomb replied. "When you're done give the word and get secure. We'll be accelerating immediately."

"Yes, sir."

Thunder rumbled through the deck.

"Plasma impacts, sir," Cortana explained. "Their energy profile has diffused, but they were still powerful enough to knock the lateral sensors and cameras offline."

Admiral Whitcomb smoothed his thick fingers over his mustache. "We've got only a few minutes before this s.p.a.ce tears us apart." He squinted at the wall displays, trying to count the number of enemy craft. "That's if those Covenant s.h.i.+ps don't do the job first."

He turned to Cortana. "How many enemy s.h.i.+ps are there? Which are real and which are illusion?" "Impossible to accurately determine, sir. I counted fourteen targets before they started firing and filling the s.p.a.ce between us with ionizing plasma. Now? ..." Mathematical symbols raced along her length, flas.h.i.+ng blue and indigo. "Cross-indexing similar mirrored images and extrapolating, I estimate there are currently between three and five operational s.h.i.+ps, sir."

Admiral Whitcomb gritted his teeth and concentrated. He had to get this s.h.i.+p moving-take out one or two enemy craft. Maybe the tangled plasma-filled s.p.a.ce would cook the rest of them.

That was their best chance. Their only chance. He'd have to trust the Master Chief to get that drive conduit fixed.

"Very well, Cortana," he said. "Heat the Gettysburg's Gettysburg's reactor to maximum power and prepare to flood the main-engine plasma conduit. Charge all available weapons turret capacitors." reactor to maximum power and prepare to flood the main-engine plasma conduit. Charge all available weapons turret capacitors."

"Yes, sir. Standby."

He glanced at a screen that showed the Gettysburg Gettysburg sitting atop them inverted. "Is the launch bay on the sitting atop them inverted. "Is the launch bay on the Gettysburg Gettysburg intact? Can it hold an atmosphere?" intact? Can it hold an atmosphere?"

Cortana blinked. "Yes, sir. It has a slow leak of thirty-two kilo pascals per-"

"Pressurize the bay."

"Acknowledged, Admiral. However," Cortana replied, "that will leave our air reserves dangerously low."

The Admiral stared at the s.h.i.+ps surrounding them-a plasma bolt struck a distant cruiser head-on, and its nose buckled. Gouts of flame flared along its lateral plasma lines. The s.h.i.+p looked like a fish spit with a red-hot poker.

That could have been them.

"Hurry up, Chief," he whispered.

On the displays the Admiral spotted two s.h.i.+ps. There was a carrier far away; it looked undamaged. Closer, off the port bow, was a cruiser that, aside from a hole punched through its aft section, was also undamaged ... and only ten thousand kilometers away. That was the priority target.

"Lay in a new course," the Admiral ordered. "Two-four-zero by zero-three-five."

Lieutenant Haverson took an involuntary step closer to the display, and his face contorted as he worked out the math in his head. "That's. . . a collision course, sir."

"Glad you concur with my calculations," the Admiral remarked dryly. Lieutenant Haverson glanced at the Gettysburg Gettysburg and nodded, finally understanding. "Aye, sir. A good plan." "Admiral," the Master Chief's voice broke through in a wash of static. "Hull breach is sealed, sir." "Hang on, son," Admiral Whitcomb said. "This might be a rough ride. Cortana, give me flank speed now!" and nodded, finally understanding. "Aye, sir. A good plan." "Admiral," the Master Chief's voice broke through in a wash of static. "Hull breach is sealed, sir." "Hang on, son," Admiral Whitcomb said. "This might be a rough ride. Cortana, give me flank speed now!"

"Complying," Cortana said. "Flank speed. Conduit is holding. Coming about to two-four-zero by zero-three-five. Collision with Covenant cruiser at this speed and heading in eighteen seconds."

Ascendant Justice-Gettysburg accelerated toward a line of wavering orange plasma-and steamed through it like a s.h.i.+p smas.h.i.+ng through a storm wave on the open seas. accelerated toward a line of wavering orange plasma-and steamed through it like a s.h.i.+p smas.h.i.+ng through a storm wave on the open seas.

Fire splashed over their hulls and burned away layers of armor. The entire hull superstructure groaned. Explosions reverberated through the deck.

"Fire on decks eight through twelve," Cortana reported. "We have lost plasma turret five. Distance to enemy s.h.i.+p six thousand kilometers and closing."

"Initiate a roll, Cortana. Make it thirty degrees per second. That'll spread out the damage over more surface area."

"Roll maneuver, aye. Att.i.tude thrusters set to maximum burn." She exhaled, and her holographic image flickered with irritation. "This will make a targeting solution difficult, sir."

"Set firing range of plasma turrets for point blank," the Admiral told her.

Cortana hesitated for a full second. "Yes, Admiral."

The s.p.a.ce on the external cameras slowly began to spin as their s.h.i.+p spiraled toward their intended target. The Covenant cruiser came about to face them. Its plasma turrets glowed like angry red eyes. "Lieutenant, take the weapons station. Cortana, give us a firing solution and manual fire control."

Haverson's hands moved quickly over the Covenant holographic control surfaces. "Cortana has a firing solution, sir. Activate weapons?"

"Stand by, Lieutenant."

"They'll get off the first salvo, sir," Lieutenant Haverson said. Although his voice was calm, a drop of sweat trickled down his freckled cheek.

"I hope they do," the Admiral replied. "It may be the only thing that saves us." Lieutenant Haverson took a deep breath, nodding. "Weapons standing by, sir."

"Cortana, make ready to vent the Gettysburg's Gettysburg's launch bay." launch bay."

"Aye, sir. Overriding bay door safeties. Distance to target three thousand kilometers."

The Covenant cruiser fired. Lances of energy launched and veered toward Ascendant Justice ... Ascendant Justice ... and arced away in corkscrew spirals and right angles. The s.p.a.ce between the two large ma.s.ses was still tangled and fractured. and arced away in corkscrew spirals and right angles. The s.p.a.ce between the two large ma.s.ses was still tangled and fractured.

"Two thousand kilometers," Cortana reported. "Stay on course," the Admiral said. "And continue to hold fire." Lieutenant Haverson's jaw clenched, and his hands trembled over the controls. The enemy cruiser filled the displays. Its plasma turrets recycled and glowed a dull red.

"One thousand kilometers," Cortana announced.

"Admiral?" Lieutenant Haverson asked.

"Hold your fire."

"Five hundred kilometers," Cortana said. "Three hundred... two... collision imminent."

The Admiral's fist clenched. He barked, "Fire! All turrets, fire! Cortana, depressurize the launch bay and give us full power to port."