Halo_ First Strike - Eric S. Nylund [20]
"Something Captain Keyes would approve of." The Chief summoned the navigation console on the main display. "If we survive long enough, I want a course from here"—he tapped the NAV point over the flagship—"into the gravity well of Basis to slingshot us around."
"Done," Cortana replied. "I still— Hey, they've stopped firing."
The Chief tapped the aft camera. The six cruisers continued their pursuit, but the tips of their weapons cooled as they powered down. "I was counting on this. We're on the same line of fire as their flagship. They won't shoot."
"Pelican now twelve hundred kilometers and closing. Within range for system link." The Chief hailed the Pelican. "Polaski, release your controls. We're taking over."
"Chief?"
"Establish encrypted system link. Acknowledge."
A long pause, then, "Roger."
Cortana's hologram appeared on the tiny protection pad. She appeared to listen intently for a moment, and then declared, "Got them." "Synchronize our courses, Cortana. Put us right on top of the Pelican." "Maneuvering to intercept the Pelican. Five hundred kilometers to flagship." "Prepare to alter our course, Cortana, as we pass the flagship. Also get ready to direct all scanners at the flagship if we pass." '"If?" Cortana asked.
The flagship's turrets turned to bear on the Longsword and Pelican. They glowed like angry eyes in the dark.
"Three hundred kilometers."
Light sparkled along the length of the Covenant craft as it prepared to fire; dull red plasma gathered; three torpedoes extruded and raced toward them.
"Evasiv—" the Chief said.
Cortana banked hard port, starboard, and then hit the afterburners and pulled up. Streaks of hell&e brushed close to the hulls of the Longsword and Pelican—then were gone behind them.
The Chief had hoped for this: Their extreme oblique approach angle combined with their speed made them hard to hit, even for the notoriously accurate Covenant plasma weapons.
"Ten kilometers," Cortana announced. "Scanning in burst mode."
They flashed over the three-kilometer-long ship in the blink of an eye. The Chief saw gun turrets straining to track their approach. The alien craft had sleek lines, relatively flat top to bottom, but it curved from stem to stern into three distinct bulb sections. Along its hull ran glowing blue conduits of superheated plasma; surrounding the ship was a faint shimmer of silver energy shields.
He eased back into his seat. The Chief hadn't realized that he'd been holding his breath, and he exhaled. "Good," he said. "Very good."
"Burning into a high slingshot orbit," Cortana announced.
The Longsword's engines rumbled. The acceleration played hell with the Chief's inner ear. He wasn't certain for a moment which way was up.
"Bring us closer to the Pelican," he said. "Right on top. Give me a hard dock on its top access hatch."
Cortana set her hands on her hips and frowned. "Readjusting burn parameters. But you know a linked-ship configuration during an orbital burn is not stable."
"We won't be linked long," he said and slipped out of his harness. He drifted aft, pulled himself down to the floor and opened the Longsword's access hatch. Green lights on the intervening pressure door winked on in succession. He removed the safeties and popped the seal.
A hand reached up from the other side. John pulled the person through.
The shock only lasted a moment. John's reflexes kicked in— he grabbed a handful of the man's uniform, kicked the hatch shut, and propelled both of them against the hull. With a lightning-quick motion, he drew the newcomer's pistol and aimed it squarely at the man's forehead.
"You were dead," the Chief said. "I saw you die. On Jenkins's mission record. The Flood got you."
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