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“It looks like a tough nut to crack, sir. Especially from the ground.”
“It is,” Silva agreed, “which is why we’re going to tackle it from both the airand the ground. Lord only knows how they did it, but a group of Pelican pilots were able to launch their transports before the Old Man brought theAutumn down, and they’re hidden about ten klicks north of here. We can use them to support an airborne operation.”
McKay lowered her binoculars. “And theAutumn ?”
“She’s KIA back thataway,” Silva replied, hooking his thumb back over a shoulder. “I’d like to go pay my final respects, but that will have to wait. What we need is a base, something we can fortify, and use to hold the Covenant at bay. Otherwise they’re going to hunt our people down one, two, or three at a time.”
“Which is where the butte comes in,” McKay said.
“Exactly,” Silva answered. “So, start walking. I want your company at the foot of that butte ASAP. If there’s a path to the top I want you to find it and follow it. Once you get their attention, we’ll hit them from above.”
There was a loudbang as one of the first company’s rocket jockeys fired her M19 SSM man-portable launcher, blew the incoming Banshee out of the sky, and a put a period to Silva’s sentence. The battalion cheered as the Banshee bits dribbled smoke and wobbled out of the sky.
“Sir, yes sir,” McKay answered. “When we get up there, you can buy me a beer.”
“Fair enough,” Silva agreed, “but we’ll have to brew it first.”
Even Grunts had to be granted some rest once in a while, which was why long, cylindrical tanks equipped with air locks had been shipped to Halo’s surface, where they were pumped full of methane and used in lieu of barracks.
Having survived the nearly suicidal attack on theAutumn by rescuing a wounded Elite, and insisting that the warrior be evacuated rather than left to die, Yayap had extended the duration of his own life, not to mention those of the Grunts directly under his command.
Now, by way of celebrating that victory, the alien soldier was curled in a tiny ball, fast asleep. One leg twitched slightly as the Grunt dreamed of making his way through the swamps of his home world, past naturally occurring pillars of fire, to the marshy estuary where he had grown up.
Then, before he could cross a row of ancient stepping-stones to the reedy hut on the far side of the family’s ancestral fish pond, Gagaw shook his arm. “Yayap! Get up quick! Remember the Elite we brought down from the ship? He’s outside, and he wants to see you!”
Yayap sprang to his feet. “Me?Did he say why?”
“No,” the other Grunt replied, “but it can’t be good.”
That much was certainly true, Yayap reflected as he waded through the chaos of equipment that hung in untidy clusters along the length of the cylinder. He entered the communal lavatory, and hurried to don his armor, breathing apparatus, and weapons harness.
Which was more dangerous, he wondered, to show up disheveled, and have the Elite find fault with his appearance, or to show up later because he had taken the time required to ensure that his appearance would be acceptable? Dealing with Elites always seemed to involve such conundrums, which was one of the many reasons that Yayap had a hearty dislike for their kind.