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“Uh-oh,” Cortana said as the noncom opened fire, “it looks like the Monitor knows where we are.”
I wonder if he knows what we’re up to,the Chief mused.
A robot exploded, another hit the deck with a loud clang, and the Master Chief shifted fire to a third. “Yeah, he’s after my head, but it’syou that he really wants.”
The AI made no reply as the third machine exploded—and the Chief made his way down the hall using the lifeboat bays for cover. Two additional Sentinels appeared, were blown out of the air, and turned into scrap.
Soon after that they arrived at the end of the corridor, took a right, and spotted an open maintenance hatch. Not ideal, since he didn’t relish the thought of having to negotiate such tight quarters, but there didn’t seem to be any other choice. So he ducked inside, found himself in a maze, and blundered about for a while before spotting a hatch set flush into the deck in front of him. That’s when a group of infection forms swarmed up out of the hole, and the Chief’s question was answered. It appeared that the Floodhad located theAutumn —and already taken up residence there.
He swore under his breath, backed away, and hosed the Flood with bullets. He eased forward and looked down through the floor hatch. He saw a carrier form, and knew there were bound to be more. He dropped a plasma grenade down through the hole, backed away, and took a certain amount of pleasure in the ensuing explosion.
The maintenance tunnels didn’t seem to be taking him where he needed to go, so he dropped through the hole, crushed a handful of infection forms, and shot two more. The blood-splattered corridor was messy but well lit. He pried open a wall-mounted locker, and was pleased to find four frag grenades and spare ammo. He quickly stowed them, and moved on.
Two Sentinels nosed around a corner, opened fire with their lasers, and got what they deserved. “They might have been looking for us,” Cortana observed, “but it’s my guess that they were assigned to Flood control.”
The theory made sense, but didn’t really help much as the Master Chief was forced to fight the Sentinels, the Flood,and the Covenant, while he made his way through a series of passageways and into the ship’s heavily damaged mess, where a large contingent of Elites and Grunts were waiting to have him for lunch.
There were a lot of them, too many to handle with the assault weapon alone, so he served up a couple of grenades. One of the Elites was blown to pieces by the overlapping explosions, another lost a leg, and a Grunt was thrown halfway across the room.
They’d come full circle—he’d blasted Covenant troops apart before the crash landing, and here he was again.The enemy just didn’t learn, he thought.
There was a survivor, however, a tough Elite who threw a plasma grenade of his own, and missed by a matter of centimeters. The Master Chief ran and was clear of the blast zone by the time the device went off. The Elite charged, took the better part of a full clip, and finally slammed into the deck, dead.