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“Where is he?” the Chief asked.
“I’m detecting taps throughout the ship,” Cortana replied. “Sentinels most likely. As for the Monitor—he’sin Engineering. He must be trying to take the core off-line. Even if I could get the countdown restarted . . . I don’t know what to do.”
The Spartan stared at the hologram in surprise. This was a first—and it made her seem more human somehow. “How much firepower would you need to crack one of the engine shields?”
“Not much,” Cortana replied, “a well-placed grenade perhaps. But why?”
He produced a grenade, tossed the device into the air, and caught it again.
The AI’s eyes widened and she nodded. “Okay, let’s go.”
The Spartan turned and started to leave.
“Chief!” Cortana said. “Sentinels!”
In unison, the machines attacked.
Major Silva stood at what amounted to parade rest, feet spread, hands clasped behind his back, as he looked out over the landing pads while the men and women under his command made final preparations for the assault on the Covenant shipTruth and Reconciliation .
Fifteen Banshees, all scrounged from different sites across Halo’s embattled surface, sat waiting for the order to launch.
Pelicans, three of the four that the humans had left, squatted ramps down as heavily loaded Marines filed aboard. Each of the surviving 236 leathernecks was armed with weapons appropriate to the mission at hand. No long-range stuff, like rocket launchers or sniper rifles, just assault weapons, shotguns, and grenades, all of which were lethal within enclosed spaces, and would be effective against both the Covenant and the Flood.
Naval personnel, and there were seventy-six of them, were armed with Covenant plasma rifles and pistols, which, thanks to their light weight, and the fact that there was no need to tote additional ammo, left the swabbies free to carry tools, food, and medical supplies. They had orders to avoid combat, if possible—and concentrate on running the ship. Some, a group of sixteen individuals, had skills considered to be so critical that each one had been given two Marine bodyguards.
Assuming that Cortana and the Master Chief were able to complete their mission, they would take one of theAutumn ’s remaining lifeboats and rendezvous with theTruth and Reconciliation out in space. Annoying though she sometimes was, the officer knew Cortana would be able to pilot the alien vessel, and get them home.
Failing that, Silva hoped that Wellsley, with help from the Naval personnel, would be able to take the cruiser through Slipspace and back to Earth. An event he had already planned for, right down to what he would wear, and a short but moving speech for the media.
As if summoned by his thoughts, Wellsley chose that moment to intrude on the officer’s reverie. The AI, who rode in an armored matrix slung from Silva’s shoulder, was characteristically unapologetic. “Lieutenant McKay called in, Major. Force One is in place.”
Silva nodded, remembered that Wellsley couldn’t actually see him, and said, “Good. Now, if they can lay low for the next couple of hours, we’ll be in good shape.”