Halo_ First Strike - Eric S. Nylund [86]
John knew instantly the three were Kelly, Fred, and Will.
He ran forward to meet them.
Fred lowered his weapon. "Anton ... Grace ... John?" he said disbelievingly.
The Master Chief opened a COM channel to his Spartans. "It's me. I wish I had time to explain everything. I will—later. Let's get the hell out of here first."
Kelly quickly reached out and swiped her two fingers across John's faceplate.
He wanted to return the smile, but at that moment Admiral Whitcomb, running full force, skidded to a stop next to the Spartans. He was followed in short order by Haverson, Locklear, and Johnson, who kept looking over his shoulder to scan the huge empty room around them.
"Is this everyone?" Admiral Whitcomb asked.
"No, sir," Fred replied. "There's one more." He turned and extended his hand back into the partially collapsed tunnel. "Ma'am? It's safe to come out."
For a heartbeat the Master Chief forgot that he was in the heart of an enemy's camp; he forgot about the war, that Reach had fallen, and everything else he had gone through in the last few days. He had never thought he would see her again.
Dr. Halsey emerged from the partially caved-in tunnel. She brushed dust from the hem of her skirt and lab coat with one slender hand.
"Admiral Whitcomb," she said, "a pleasure to see you again. My thanks for the rescue. It was far timelier than you could imagine." She turned to the Master Chief. "Or is it you I have to thank for this daring operation, John?"
The Master Chief found he had no words to answer. He also bristled at her casual use of his given name... but he could forgive her that. She had always used his name—never his rank or serial number.
He noticed the fist-sized crystal clutched in her hand. It had a thousand facets and emitted a brilliant blue light the color of sapphires and sunlight on water.
"Thank anyone you want, Catherine," Admiral Whitcomb said. "Throw us all a party if that'll make you happy... once we're out of here." He clicked open his COM. "Polaski, get down—"
Sergeant Johnson set his hand on the Admiral's arm and nodded toward the far wall.
"What is it, Sergeant?" The Admiral's voice died in his throat.
The Master Chief's motion tracker flickered on his heads-up display, but there was no solid contact... nor did he see anything across the entire three-kilometer-wide cavern. Had it picked up a camouflaged Elite? No, the dust in the air would have certainly given it away.
"No one move," the Admiral whispered.
John saw them, then. He saw them all.
He had missed them before because he had thought it was the haze in the air rippling, the dust, maybe the distance causing a miragelike image. He hadn't thought it possible for so many Covenant to be so still.
On each level of the twelve tiered galleries that circumscribed the gigantic room stood Covenant soldiers. They crowded the balconies with Grunts, Jackals whose energy shields popped on, snarling Elites, and several pairs of Hunters with fuel rod cannons glowing green.
The whine of thousands of plasma weapons charging filled the air like a swarm of locusts. No one moved. No one breathed except Locklear, who exhaled a long and heartfelt expletive.
John tried to count them all. There had to be thousands—on every level. A battalion at least, maybe more. They wouldn't even have to aim. All they had to do was shoot and fill the space with needle shards and boiling energy.
HALO: FIRST STRIKE
They'd be vaporized before they could get halfway to the tunnel at their backs.
A Hunter pair roared with rage; they leveled their fuel rod cannons at John and his team and, with steady aim, discharged their weapons.
A split second later the rest of the alien horde opened fire.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
TIME:DATE RECORD ANOMALYX Estimated 0640 Hours, September 23,2552 (Military Calendar)\Aboard