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“Motion tracking is picking up an incoming target at extreme range,” Cortana warned. “Velocity profilematches the SkyHawk, Chief.”
He turned—almost lost his balance and had to shift back and forth to keep from falling. There was a doton the horizon, and the faint rumble of thunder.
In the blink of an eye, the dot had wings and the Master Chief’s thermal sensors picked up a plume ofjetwash. In seconds, the SkyHawk closed—then opened fire with its 50mm cannons.
He jumped.
The wooden poles splintered into pulp. They were mowed down like so many blades of grass.
The Master Chief rolled, ducked, and flattened himself on the earth. He caught a smattering of roundsand his shield bar drooped to half. Those rounds would have penetrated his old suit instantly.
Cortana said, “I calculate we have eleven seconds before the SkyHawk can execute a maximum gee turnand make another pass.”
The Master Chief got up and ran through the shattered remains of the poles. Napalm and sonic grenadespopped around him, but he moved so fast he left the worst of the damage in his wake.
“They won’t use their cannons next time,” he said. “They didn’t take us out—they’ll try the missiles.”
“Perhaps,” Cortana suggested, “we should leave the course. Find better cover.”
“No,” he said. “We’re going to win . . . by their rules.”
The last leg of the course was a sprint across an open field. In the distance, the Master Chief saw the bellon a tripod.
He glanced over his shoulder.
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The SkyHawk was back and starting its run straight toward him.
Even with his augmented speed, even with the MJOLNIR armor—he’d never make it to the bell in time.He’d never make it alive.
He turned to face the incoming jet.
“I’ll need your help, Cortana,” he said.
“Anything,” she whispered. The Master Chief heard nervousness in the AI’s voice.
“Calculate the inbound velocity of a Scorpion missile. Factor in my reaction time and the jet’s inboundspeed and distance at launch, and tell me the instant I need to move to sidestep and deflect it with myleft arm.”
Cortana paused a heartbeat. “Calculation done. You did say ‘deflect’?”
“Scorpion missiles have motion-tracking sensors and proximity detonators. I can’t outrun it. And itwon’t miss. That leaves us very few options.”
The SkyHawk dove.
“Get ready,” Cortana said. “I hope you know what you’re doing.”
“Me, too.”
Smoke appeared from the jet’s left wingtip and fire and exhaust erupted as a missile streaked toward him.
The Master Chief saw the missile’s track back and forth, zeroing in on his coordinates. A shrill tone inhis helmet warbled—the missile had a guidance lock on him. He chinned a control and the sound diedout. The missile was fast. Faster than he was ten times over.
“Now!” Cortana said.
They moved together. He shifted his muscles and the MJOLNIR—augmented by his link to Cortana—moved faster than he’d ever moved before. His leg tensed and pushed him aside; his left arm came upand crossed his chest.