Halo_ Ghosts of Onyx - Eric S. Nylund [129]
dozens of pads… two hundred Grunts materialized.
They screamed, fired plasma and needier pistols, and charged.
Kurt had never been afraid of these diminutive aliens. But this was different. The cowardly creatures were wild-eyed, and sprinted headlong toward them, clawing at the air. Their plasma bolts dissipated along their two-hundred-meter-long trajectories, but several needier rounds exploded on the stones near Kurt.
"Hold your fire," he said over TEAMCOM. He scanned the
advancing line, and then past them spotted three teams of Grunts setting up energy
mortars.
"In back," he said. "Take out the artillery."
Linda fired twice. A trio of Grunts assembling one mortar fell.
Holly and Ash grabbed sniper rifles and picked off the other two Grunt teams before the
mortars' energy shields activated. The charging wave of Grunts surged against the base of the hill, clambering over one
another to rush up the steep terraces.
"Mines?" Kelly calmly asked over the COM
"Negative," Kurt replied. "Rifles. Everyone—sweep the slopes."
Green acknowledgment lights burned.
They eased out from cover and loosened streams of automatic fire over the target-rich
terrain.
The leading Grunts jerked as bullets riddled their bodies. They fell backward onto their fellows, who struggled to maintain their forward momentum. Punctured breathing units spewed methane and blossomed into flame. Many Grunts ignited, tumbled down the stairs, and desperately rolled to extinguish themselves.
The Spartans dropped magazines, inserted fresh ones, and methodically continued shooting.
The Grunts slowed and stopped halfway up the stairs, fell back, dead and alive, still
screaming, but now in terror.
The survivors turned and fled—and were cut down.
Heaps of Grunts lay at the foot of the hill. Methane reverse tanks detonated, and burning
armor and flesh spiraled up into columns of acrid smoke. Some Grunts attempted to crawl to safety.
"Police the wounded," Kurt ordered. "Single shots."
His team quickly dispatched them.
Then Kurt spotted his mistake: Two hundred fifty meters back, almost lost in the glare of the vast room, stood Elites… now safely behind stationary shield generators.
Kurt increased the magnification on his faceplate. There were
three groups equidistantly positioned around the hill—thirty Elites in each.
"Twelve, four, and seven o'clock," Kurt whispered over TEAMCOM. "Trouble."
"We've got three SPNKr missiles left," Linda offered. "I could get a trajectory over those shield units."
Kurt then saw outlines that made his stomach clench, silhouettes that hulked over the smaller Elites. Three Hunter pairs, one in each company.
"Too much firepower," he told Linda. "They'd down them before impact. We'll wait for them to come to us. Stand by."
Above them, the towers leaned in at a 45-degree angle; the depth from the top of the hill to the center was now only six meters. Kurt could actually see the concentric rings settling, centimeter by centimeter.
His countdown timer read "17:51."
Every Spartan had about a dozen magazines for their MA5B and MASK assault rifles, three grenades, sniper rifles—normally enough for nearly any engagement. This, however, would be a lopsided siege against an enemy who was well prepared and, Kurt had to admit
it, outthinking them.
He moved down to Dr. Halsey.
"Progress?" he whispered.
Dr. Halsey continued to stare at the white compressed space within the center. It flexed,
and revealed a tantalizing glimpse of normal daylight beyond, and then shifted back to glare and distortion.
"There is nothing 1 can do to hasten the closing of this aperture," she murmured. "Are you still set on remaining here until the last possible moment?"
"We can't allow the Covenant to get inside," Kurt said, "and I'm not sending part of our team ahead. It would only weaken our forces here, and potentially leave any advance party facing Sentinels on the other side."
She looked up at him and sighed. "I find myself reluctantly agreeing with your tactical analysis."
Kurt unholstered his M6 pistol and set it next