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He stopped, ashamed. Such religious stupor would only blind him to the dangers.

Voro must not bow to the Forerunner ghosts. He must be the sole authority here.

He turned to the Lekgolo pair who ever remained at his back on the bridge.

"Prepare for battle," he told them.

Although the Lekgolo could not smile, Voro sensed their "faces" flex in pleasure, a dozen

eels squirmed and coiled over one another.

They growled their assent, rose, saluted, and thundered off the bridge.

Voro ran his hand over the command console. Ship Master Tano's blood still stained the

edges, tingeing the holographic emitters blue. He lamented that his old mentor had not survived to witness this moment.

"Alien vessels accelerating from the surface," Uruo announced. "Two dozen. Pair formation. On attack vectors."

"Destroy the craft," Voro said over FLEETCOM, "and only the craft. Use lasers, pinpoint targeting."

Tiny explosions lit the night as the drones were obliterated.

He activated the SHIPCOM. "Paruto, Waruna, during the ground assault take pains to minimize collateral damage."

There was a double-growl response, and then Paruto asked, "What target. Fleet Master?"

Voro surveyed the vast city. A complete search would take weeks.

"Pulse the Greeting of Ancients for a signal response," he told Y'gar.

"Aye, Fleet Master." He broadcast the Covenant's universal handshake sequence, and waited then for a response.

It was only a dream that any Forerunner were left to answer the call.

"Something…" Y'gar leaned closer to examine the wavering reply signal.

Voro moved to his station.

"It's one of ours," Voro declared. "Send it to the ship's Oracle for pattern match."

"Yes, sir," Y'gar replied. "Ship ID… DX class."

"A dropship? Identify the parent ship registry"

Y'gar summoned the reference and his jaws dropped open in shock. "Bloodied Spirit," he whispered.

Voro narrowed his eyes at the wavering response signals. This came from the ship stolen by the human demons. They had beaten them here? Survived the Forerunners' defenses and infiltrated holy grounds? Anger boiled within him and clouded his mind, but he collected his rage… saved it.

"Triangulate the signal," he ordered.

"Yes, sir. There."

The image shifted in the central viewer. A silver dome wavered into semisolidity. The

apex of the structure faceted into seven planes, and on each, an arch opened to the interior… arches large enough for dropships to pass through.

Voro returned to his command console. "Paruto, Waruna, we have a target. Muster the reserves from every ship in the fleet."

Paruto and Waruna replied simultaneously with a subsonic rumble of acknowledgment.

"You will, however, wait," Voro told him.

There was silence over the COM.

"Wait" was a word one dared not speak to a Lekgolo pair on the verge of battle.

"You shall wait for me to join you," Voro said. "For I shall lead this assault."

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CHAPTER

THIRTY-TWO

2040 HOURS, NOVEMBER 3, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ SLIPSTREAM SPACE NEAR ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM \ ABOARD UNSC PROWLER DUSK

"Enable stealth protocols," Commander Richard Lash ordered. "Prepare for transition to normal space."

"Yes, sir." Lieutenant Commander Julian Waters turned to the Dusk's bridge officers. "External power sources off-line," he said. "Lock ablative baffles. Secure engine dampers."

Lieutenant Bethany Durruno at her NAV station crosschecked the calculations for the slipspace-to-normal transition. "We're almost there, sir. Thirty seconds."

At the OP-SENSOR station. Lieutenant Joe Yang said, "Rigged for dark and silent running, sir. Five points confirmed."

Lash personally rechecked everything on the display by the captain's chair. All shipshape. So why did he have a feeling everything was about to hit the fan? Answer: in his short tenure as commanding officer of the Dusk, imminent disaster had been the norm. He expected no less this time.

"Go to normal space," he ordered. "Start the clock."

Waters set the chronometer and said, "Time on mission: fifteen and counting."

Lash glanced