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He snaked the fiber-optic probe up and over the three-meter-high stone ridge. When it was in place, theChief linked it to his helmet’s heads-up display.
On the other side he saw a valley with eroded rock walls and a river meandering through it . . . andcamped along the banks as far as he could see were Grunts.
The Covenant used these stocky aliens as cannon fodder. They stood a meter tall and wore armoredenvironment suits that replicated the atmosphere of their frozen homeworld. They reminded the Chief ofbiped dogs, not only in appearance, but because their speech—even with the new translation software—was an odd combination of high-pitched squeaks, guttural barks, and growls.
They were about as smart as dogs, too. But what they lacked in brainpower, they made up for in sheertenacity. He had seen them hurl themselves at their enemies until the ground was piled high with theircorpses . . . and their opponents had depleted their ammunition.
These Grunts were unusually well armed: needlers, plasma pistols, and there were four stationaryplasma cannons. Those could be a problem.
One other problem: there were easily a thousand of them.
This operation had to go off without a hitch. Blue Team’s mission was to draw out the Covenant rearguard and let Red Team slip through in the confusion. Red Team would then plant a HAVOK tactical
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nuke. When the next Covenant ship landed, dropped its shields, and started to unload its troops, they’dget a thirty-megaton surprise.
The Chief detached the optics and took a step back from the rock wall. He passed the tacticalinformation along to his team over a secure COM channel.
“Four of us,” Blue-Two whispered over the link. “And a thousand of them? Piss-poor odds for the littleguys.”
“Blue-Two,” the Chief said, “I want you up with those Jackhammer launchers. Take out the cannons andsoften the rest of them. Blue-Three and Five, you follow me up—we’re on crowd control. Blue-Four:you get the welcome mat ready. Understood?”
Four blue lights winked on his heads-up display as his team acknowledged the orders.
“On my mark.” The Chief crouched and readied himself. “Mark!”
Blue-Two leaped gracefully atop the ridge—three meters straight up. There was no sound as the half tonof MJOLNIR armor and Spartan landed on the limestone.
She hefted one launcher and ran along the ridge—she was the fastest Spartan on the Chief’s team. Hewas confident those Grunts wouldn’t be able to track her for the three seconds she’d be exposed. Inquick succession, Blue-Two emptied both of the Jackhammer’s tubes, dropped one launcher, and thenfired the other rockets just as fast. The shells streaked into the Grunts’ formation and detonated. One ofthe stationary guns flipped over, engulfed in the blast, and the gunner was flung to the ground.
She ditched the launcher, jumped down—rolled once—and was back on her feet, running at top speed tothe fallback point.
The Chief, Blue-Three, and Blue-Five leaped to the top of the ridge. The Chief switched to infrared tocut through the clouds of dust and propellant exhaust just in time to see the second salvo ofJackhammers strike their targets. Two consecutive blossoms of flash, fire, and thunder decimated thefront ranks of the Grunt guards, and most importantly, turned the last of the plasma cannons intosmoldering wreckage.