Halo_ First Strike - Eric S. Nylund [37]
This came as a relief to the Master Chief. If there was an Elite here, it would have maintained better discipline and silenced the Grunts.
Still, the Master Chief hesitated. His shields were gone, his armor breached. He had been fighting almost nonstop for what felt like years. He was forced to admit that he was at the limits of his endurance.
A good soldier always assessed the tactical situation—and right now, his situation was serious. A single lucky plasma shot could inflict third-degree burns along his arm and shoulder and incapacitate him, which would give the Grunts an opportunity to finish him off.
The Chief flexed his wounded shoulder, and pain lanced across his chest. He banished his discomfort and concentrated on how to win this fight.
It was ironic that after facing the best warriors in the Covenant, and after defeating the Flood, he could be killed by a handful of Grunts.
"Chief," Cortana said over the COM. "Are you there yet? I'm down to one last option."
The Master Chief replied in a whisper, "Almost."
"Be careful. Your armor is breached. You can no longer function in a compromised atmosphere."
He flashed an acknowledgment to Cortana and concentrated on the problem at hand. Using grenades was not an option; a plasma grenade or a frag near those reactor coils could breach the containment vessel.
That left stealth—and outwitting the Grunts.
Maybe he'd use his grenades after all. The Master Chief set a plasma grenade in the center of the elevator shaft. He took his remaining two frag grenades and set them aside as well. He felt along the elevator shaft walls and found what he needed—a length of hair-fine optical cord. He pulled out a three-meter length.
The Engineer gave a huff of irritation at this destruction.
The Master Chief threaded the line though the rings of his frag grenades and tied each end at anchor points ten centimeters off the floor. He wedged the grenades into the slot of the open door.
The trap was set; all he needed now was bait. He set a plasma grenade on the far wall of the shaft and triggered it.
He pushed into the corridor, fast. Four seconds to go. The gravity, still active in this portion of the ship, pulled him to the deck. He melted into the shadows and sprinted along the wall two meters farther in, and halted along the inside of the first support brace. Three seconds.
One Grunt emitted a startled cry and a plasma shot sizzled down the center of the hallway.
Two seconds.
The Master Chief pried the Engineer off his shoulder and pressed the creature firmly into the join where the brace meet the wall.
One second.
The Engineer squirmed for a moment, then stilled, perhaps
sensing what was about to happen. The plasma grenade detonated. A flash of intense light flooded the hallway and the room beyond.
The rest of the Grunts cried out; plasma bolts and a hail of crystalline needles filled the passage, impacting inside the elevator shaft.
The Grunts ceased fire. A lone Grunt cautiously stepped out from behind a crate and crept forward. It gave a barking, nervous laugh and then, encountering no resistance, waddled down the passage toward the elevator.
Four more Grunts followed, and they passed the Master Chief, oblivious that he hid behind the wall brace less than a half-meter from them.
They approached the elevator, sniffed, and entered.
There was the gentle ping as the frag grenade rings pulled free of the trip wire. The Master Chief covered the Engineer. One of the Grunts squealed, high and panicky. They all turned
and ran. Twin blasts of thunder enveloped the elevator shaft. Bits of meat and metal spattered along the corridor. A needier skidded to a halt a meter away. It was cracked, its
energy coil dim. The Master Chief grabbed it—ducked as another plasma bolt singed over his head. He withdrew to the cover of the bracing support. He tried to activate the weapon. No luck. It was dead.
The Engineer snaked a tentacle around the weapon and tugged it away from John's grasp. It cracked the case and peeled the