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“Sir, the EMP will burn out the superconductive coils of the orbital guns. And if you use thePillar ofAutumn ’s conventional weapons, the NAV database may still survive. If the Covenant search thewreckage—they may obtain the data.”
“True,” Keyes said, and tapped his pipe thoughtfully on his chin. “Very well, Master Chief. We’ll gowith your suggestion. I’ll plot a course over the docking station. Ready your Spartans and prep twodropships. We’ll launch you—” he consulted with Cortana “—in five minutes.”
“Aye, Captain. We’ll be ready.”
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“Good luck,” Captain Keyes said, and snapped off the view screen.
Luck. The Master Chief always had been lucky. He’d need luck more than ever this time.
He turned to face the Spartans . . . his Spartans. They stood at attention.
Kelly stepped forward. “Master Chief sir, permission to lead the space op, sir.”
“Denied,” he said. “I’ll be leading that one.”
He appreciated her gesture. The space operation would be ten times more dangerous than the ground op.
The Covenant would outnumber them ten to one—or more—but the Spartans were used to taking thefight against numerically superior enemies. They had always won on the ground.
The extraction of theCircumference database, however, would be in vacuum and zero gravity—and theymight have to fight their way past a Covenant warship to reach the objective. Not exactly idealconditions.
“Linda and James,” he said. “You’re with me. Fred, you’re Red Team Leader. You’ll have tacticalcommand of the ground operation.”
“Sir!” Fred shouted. “Yes, sir.”
“Now make ready,” he said. “We don’t have much time left.”
The Master Chief regretted his unfortunate choice of words.
The Spartans stood a moment. Kelly called out, “Attention!” They snapped to and gave the Master Chiefa crisp salute.
He stood straighter and returned their salute. He was intensely proud of them all.
The Spartans scattered and gathered their gear, racing for the dropship bay.
The Master Chief watched them go.
This was the mission the Spartans had been tempered for in mission after mission. It would be theirfinest moment . . . but he knew that it might also be their last moment.
Chief Mendez had said that a leader would be required to spend the lives of those under his command.
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The Master Chief knew he would lose comrades today—but would their deaths serve a necessarypurpose . . . or would they be wasted?
Either way, they were ready.
John tapped the thrusters and rotated the Pelican dropship 180 degrees. He pushed the engines to fullpower to brake their forward momentum. ThePillar of Autumn had dropped them while she had beencruising at one-third full speed.
They’d need every millimeter of the ten thousand kilometers between them and the docking station toslow down.
The Master Chief had taken the Spartan’s modified Pelican, rigged with explosives. The station wouldbe locked down—every airlock sealed. They’d have to blast their way in.