Halo_ First Strike - Eric S. Nylund [151]
This thunderhead of superheated and pressurized gas ballooned outward to engulf the rest of the orbiting flotilla; heated their shields, which shimmered silver and popped like soap bubbles; melted their hulls and consumed them.
The blast cooled and the cloud dissipated—but ejected debris continued outward, leaving comet trails, and impacted on stray ships not near the epicenter.
"Move the drone back into the moon's shadow," John ordered.
"Aye, Chief," Will said. "Thrusters responding."
The side viewscreens showed a hailstorm of molten metal streaking toward the drone's cameras—then their view was obscured by the black-and silver-pockmarked surface of the tiny moon.
"Cortana, is the Gettysburg ready to jump?" the Chief asked. "Slipspace capacitors charged, Master Chief. Ready when you are." "Stand by." John waited a minute. No one spoke. "Will, bring the drone back out."
"Roger, Chief."
The side viewscreen changed from moonscape to space. There was little left of the fleet or the command-and-control station—only clouds of smoke, glittering metal, and ashes.
A few Covenant warships survived. Those that could slowly moved away from the blast site ... others drifted dead in space. Perhaps a dozen of their original five hundred craft had come through the explosion.
"A brilliant strategic victory," John whispered, the Admiral's last words echoing in his mind. "Cortana, get us out of here."
The Master Chief stood on the bridge of the Gettysburg and watched the stars blur and vanish into the absolute blackness of Slipspace.
They had jumped away from the battle zone over the Unyielding Hierophant, emerged in normal space, and plotted their position. Cortana adjusted their course, and now they were finally on their way to Earth. Although they had overwhelming evidence that the Covenant knew the location of Earth, "overwhelming" was not absolute proof. The Cole Protocol still applied.
"Slipspace transition complete," Cortana said. "ETA to Earth in thirty-five hours, Chief." The tiny hologram of Cortana continued to stare at him, and her slender brows knit together.
"Was there something else, Cortana?" he asked.
The furrow in her brow deepened. She sighed and crossed her arms over her chest. "I was wondering about the copy of my infiltration programming." Cortana's color cooled from blue to ultramarine. "I've reviewed your mission logs. Maybe it was the additional copying that caused its breakdown, but that copy did have some of my core personality programming as well. I just hope it's not a sign of.. . some other instability."
Cortana had been on edge. She had been so distracted at times she hadn't known the correct time. They had, however, all been pushed to the breaking point in the last few weeks. And despite any minor flaws, Cortana had always come through for him.
"We couldn't have survived without you," he finally told her. "Your programming is as good as ours."
She tinged pink and then her hologram returned to a cool blue hue. "Are my aural systems malfunctioning or was that a compliment, Chief?"
"Continue to monitor Slipspace for any anomalies," the Master Chief said, ignoring her.
He strode to the three forward viewscreens and stared into blackness. He wanted solitude, to gaze at nothing, and complete the task that he dreaded.
John pulled his team roster onto his heads-up display. He ran down the list, designating all those who had died on Reach, and afterward, as Missing In Action. James, Li, Grace... and all his dead teammates who would never officially be "allowed" to die. And in his mind, they would never find any peace until this war was won.
He paused at Kelly's name.
John listed her as MIA, too. She was ironically the only Spartan truly missing, whisked away by Dr. Halsey on some secret private mission. John knew that whatever the doctor had planned, she would protect Kelly if she