Halo_ The Fall of Reach - Eric Nylund [52]
it up. He tapped one of three buttons on the device, but nothing happened. He strapped in onto his
forearm. Dr. Halsey might find it useful. They entered the room. The large window was a half-meter thick. It overlooked a large chamber that descended three decks. A cylinder ran the length of the chamber and red light pulsed along its length, like a liquid sloshing back and forth.
Under the window, on their side, rested a smooth angled surface—perhaps a control panel? On its
surface were tiny symbols: glowing green dots, bars, and squares. “That’s got to be the source of the radiation,” Kelly said, and pointed to the chamber beyond. “Their reactor . . . or maybe a weapons system.”
Another alien marched near the cylinder. It spotted John. A silver shimmer appeared around it. It screeched and wobbled in alarm, then scrambled for cover.
“Trouble,” John said. “I’ve got an idea.” Sam limped forward. “Hand me those warheads.” John did as he asked, so did Kelly. “We shoot out that window, set the timers on the warheads, and toss them down there. That should start the party.”
“Let’s do it before they call in reinforcements,” John said. They turned and fired at the crystal. It crackled, splintered, then shattered. “Toss those warheads,” Sam said, “and let’s get out of here.” John set the timers. “Three minutes,” he said. “That’ll give us just enough time to get topside and get
away.”
He turned to Sam. “You’ll have to stay and hold them off. That’s an order.” “What are you talking about?” Kelly said. “Sam knows.” Sam nodded. “I think I can hold them off that long.” He looked at John and then Kelly. He turned and
showed them the burn in the side of his suit. There was a hole the size of his fist, and beneath that, the
skin was blackened and cracked. He smiled, but his teeth were gritted in pain. “That’s nothing,” Kelly said. “We’ll get you patched up in no time. Once we get back—” Her mouth slowly dropped open.
“Exactly,” Sam whispered. “Getting back is going to be a problem for me.”
“The hole.” John reached out to touch it. “We don’t have any way to seal it.”
Kelly shook her head.
“If I step off this boat, I’m dead from the decompression,” Sam said, and shrugged.
“No,” Kelly growled. “No—everyone gets out alive. We don’t leave teammates behind.”
“He has his orders,” John told Kelly.
“You’ve got to leave me,” Sam said softly to Kelly. “And don’t tell me you’ll give me your suit. It took
those techs on Damascus fifteen minutes to fit us. I wouldn’t even know where to start to unzip this
thing.” John looked to the deck. The Chief had told him he’d have to send men to their deaths. He didn’t tell him it would feel like this.
“Don’t waste time talking,” Sam said. “Our new friends aren’t going to wait for us while we figure this out.” He started the timers. “There. It’s decided.” A three-minute countdown appeared in the corner of their heads-up displays. “Now—get going, you two.”
John clasped Sam’s hand and squeezed it.
Kelly hesitated, then saluted.
John turned and grabbed her arm. “Come on, Spartan. Don’t look back.”
The truth was, it was John who didn’t dare look back. If he had, he would have stayed with Sam. Better to die with a friend than leave him behind. But as much as he wanted to fight and die alongside his friend, he had to set an example for the rest of the Spartans—and live to fight another day.
John and Kelly pushed the pressure doors shut behind them. “Good-bye,” he whispered. The countdown timer ticked the seconds off inexorably.
2:35 . . .
They ran down the corridor, popped the seal on the outer door—the atmosphere vented.
1:05 . . .
They climbed up through the twisted metal canyon that the MAC round had torn through the hull.
0:33 . . .
“There,” John said, and pointed to the base of a charged pulse laser. They crawled toward it, waited as the glow built to a lethal charge.
0:12 . . .
They crouched and