Halo_ Evolutions - Essential Tales of the Halo Universe - Eric Nylund [188]
“Firing solutions acquired,” Sekmet announced.
“Input solutions. Slave master-firing control to Everest, and lock,” Cole ordered.
“How many of the Archers, sir?” the Chief Weapons officer asked. “How many Shivas?”
Cole glared at the man like he was crazy. “All of them, Lieutenant.”
“Aye, sir. Solutions locked and ready to fire on your order.”
Cole nodded and laced his hands behind his back. He studied the tactical board as Battle Group X-ray inched along their new trajectory.
The UNSC ships accelerated about the curve of Harvest, and the sun rose and blazed across the view screens.
The Covenant ship waited for them—plasma lines heating and flaring through space on an intercept course.
“Prepare to launch missiles,” Cole ordered. There was steel in his tone. “Release targeting and fire control of the MACs to Sekmet.”
He watched as the deadly plasmas sped toward them.
“Initiate firing sequence—now!”
Dozens of rumbles shook Everest.
“Archer and Shiva missiles away, sir!”
Covenant plasma, so bright it seemed to ignite the black fabric of space, hit the fleet and burned the Constantinople, Troy, and melted the prow of the Lowrentz.
More than a thousand missiles left crisscrossing exhaust trails as they sped toward their target. The larger Shiva missiles fell behind the swarm.
Explosions spread throughout the fleet as new plasma ejected from the Covenant ship—destroying the Maelstrom, the Waterloo, and the Excellence.
“MAC system power at maximum,” Sekmet announced. “Automatic firing sequence to commence in three seconds . . . two . . . one.”
The remaining ships in Battle Group X-ray fired their magnetic accelerator cannons—twenty-seven simultaneous lightning strikes that flashed across space and struck the Covenant vessel.
The alien ship blurred behind its shields . . . opaque for a split second.
The Archer warheads hit, splashing fire and fury across the curve of her flank.
And then dozens of new suns ignited—a corona of manmade nuclear violence. It was a cloud of destruction that writhed and contorted and clawed at the enemy ship for a full three seconds as the UNSC group continued at flank speed toward their target.
“Alter course, sir?” a commander asked.
“Remain on target,” Cole said.
And in a whisper so low that while was it picked up by the bridge log microphone, no one else could have possibly heard, Cole said: “Fix bayonets.”
The fleet hurled toward the inferno boiling about the alien ship.
The stern of the Covenant ship deformed—blasted outward as the interior shuttered and imploded, and ejected a double cone of blue-white hot plasma.
The bridge crew erupted into wild cheers.
“Course correction,” Cole said. “Starboard group about to 060 by 030. Port group to 270 by 270.”
“New course transmitted and acknowledged,” Sekmet replied.
The fleet split and veered from the spreading fields of churning destruction.
“Bring us about to search for survivors,” Cole ordered.
He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and then refocused on the tactical board. Cole touched an icon and watched as the names of destroyed vessels—and the thousands of men and woman who had served and died under his command—scrolled into view.
Classified communiqué from Vice Admiral Preston Cole to
Admiral Harold Stanforth \ May 2531 (Military Calendar)
UNITED NATIONS SPACE COMMAND TRANSMISSION 102482-02
ENCRYPTION CODE: RED
PUBLIC KEY: FILE / VEGAS-ANACONDA-MOCKINGBIRD-ZERO /
FROM: VICE ADMIRAL PRESTON COLE, COMMANDING OFFICER UNSC EVEREST / (UNSC SERVICE NUMBER: 00814-13094-BQ)
TO: ADMIRAL HAROLD STANFORTH, USNC REGION ONE COMMANDER / REACH CENTCOM (UNSC SERVICE NUMBER: 00834-19223-HS)
SUBJECT: SAFEGUARDING NAVIGATION DATA – MORE THOUGHTS
CLASSIFICATION: SECRET (BGX DIRECTIVE)
Harold,
I’ve gone over this a dozen times: starting with our capture and interrogation of the alien creature my doctors are calling an “Elite” and ending with my tenuous conclusions and recommendations.
It doesn’t make sense. My gut tells me the entire war hinges on something that we have overlooked.
First,