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“Good,” the Prophet said smoothly. “I’m gratified to hear it. Now, having failed once, and having determined never to do so again, tell me how you plan to proceed.If I like the answer,if you can convince me that it will work, then you will leave this room alive.”
Fortunately ’Zamamee not only had a plan, but anexciting plan, and he was able to convince the Prophet that it would work.
But later, after the Elite had rejoined Yayap, and the two of them were leaving the ship, it wasn’t a vision of glory that he saw, but ’Rolamee’s vacant stare.
The Master Chief paused just inside the hatch to ensure that he wasn’t being followed, checked to make certain that his weapons were loaded, and wondered where the hell he was. Based on instructions from Cortana, Foehammer had dropped her Pelican through a hole in Halo’s surface, flown the dropship through one of the enormous capillary-like maintenance tunnels that crisscrossed just below the ring world’s skin, and dropped the unlikely twosome off on a cavernous landing platform. From there the Spartan felt his way through a maze of passageways and rooms, many of which had been defended.
Now, as he walked the length of another corridor, he wondered what lay beyond the hatch ahead.
The answer was quite unexpected. The door opened to admit cold air and a sudden flurry of snowflakes. It appeared as if he was about to step out onto the deck of a footbridge. A barrier blocked some of the view, but the noncom could see traction beams that served in place of suspension cables, and the gray cliff face beyond.
“The weather patterns here seem natural, not artificial,” Cortana observed thoughtfully. “I wonder if the ring’s environmental systems are malfunctioning—or if the designerswanted this particular installation to have inclement weather.”
“Maybe this isn’t even inclement weather to them,” he said.
The Chief, who wasn’t sure it made a hell of a lot of difference, not tohim anyway, stuck his nose around the edge of the hatch to see what might be waiting for them.
The answer was a Shade, with a Grunt seated at the controls. A quick glance to the right confirmed the presence of asecond energy weapon, this one unmanned.
Then, just as he was about to make his move, a Pelican appeared off to the left, roared over the bridge, and settled into the valley below. There was a squawk of static, followed by a grim-sounding male voice.
“This is Fire Team Zulu requesting immediate assistance from any USNC forces. Does anyone copy? Over.”
The AI recognized the call sign as belonging to one of the units operating out of Alpha Base and made her reply.“Cortana to Fire Team Zulu. I read you. Hold position. We’re on the way.”
“Roger that,”the voice replied.“Make it quick.”
So much for the element of surprise,he thought. The Spartan stepped out of the hatch, shot the Grunt in the head, and hurried to take the alien’s place on the Shade. He could hear the commotion the sudden attack had caused and knew he had only seconds to bring the barrel around.