第38页

　　The  Chief  fired  two  bursts  directly  over  Polaski's  head.  His  first  shots  struck  the  Elite  in  the  middle  of  the  corridor.  His  sec?ond  burst  hit  the  Elite  standing  rear  guard.  The  alien  warriors  hadn't  activated  their  shields,  and  7.62mm  rounds  punctured  their  armor.  The  pair  of  Elites  dropped  to  the  deck.
　　Their  comrades  on  either  side  of  the  door  howled  and  at?tacked.  The  whine  of  plasma  rifle  fire  echoed  through  the  bay  as  blue-white  energy  bolts  crashed  into  the  Chief's  own  shields.
　　His  shield  dropped  away,  and  the  insistent  drone  of  a  warning  indicator  pulsed  in  his  helmet.  His  vision  clouded  from  the  flare  of  energy  weapon  discharges,  and  he  struggled  to  draw  a  bead  on  the  Elite  in  front  of  Polaski.  It  was  no  good—he  had  no  clear  shot.
　　The  Elite  drew  a  plasma  pistol.  Polaski  drew  her  own  sidearm.
　　She  was  faster—or  luckier.  Her  pistol  cleared  its  holster;  she  snapped  it  up  and  fired.  The  pistol  boomed  as  a  shot  took  the  Elite  right  in  the  center  of  its  elongated  helmet.
　　The  Elite's  own  shot  went  wide  and  seared  into  the  deck  be?hind  Polaski.
　　Polaski  emptied  her  clip  into  the  alien's  face.  A  pair  of  rounds  rocked  the  alien  back.  Its  shields  faded,  and  the  remain?ing  rounds  tore  through  armor  and  bone.
　　It  fell  on  its  back,  twitched  twice,  and  died.
　　Johnson  and  Locklear  unleashed  a  hellish  crossfire  into  the  corridor  and  made  short  work  of  the  remaining  Elites  as  Polaski  hugged  the  deckplates.
　　62
　　HALO:  FIRST  STRIKE
　　"Now  that's  what  I'm  talkin'  about,"  Johnson  crowed.  "An  honest-to-God  turkey  shoot."
　　Ten  meters  down  the  passage  a  dozen  more  Elites  rounded  a  corner.
　　"Uh-oh,"  Locklear  muttered.
　　"Sergeant,"  the  Chief  barked.  "Door  control!"  John  moved  to  Polaski's  position  in  two  quick  strides,  grabbed  her  by  her  collar,  and  dragged  her  out  of  the  line  of  fire.  Plasma  bolts  singed  the  air  where  she'd  been.
　　He  dropped  her,  primed  a  grenade,  and  tossed  it  toward  the  rushing  Elites.
　　The  Sergeant  fired  his  assault  rife  at  the  door  controls;  they  exploded  in  a  shower  of  sparks,  and  the  doors  slammed  shut.
　　A  dull  thump  echoed  behind  the  thick  metal,  then  an  eerie  si?lence  descended  on  the  bay.  Polaski  struggled  to  her  feet  and  fed  a  fresh  clip  into  her  pistol.  Her  hands  shook.
　　"Cortana,"  the  Chief  said.  "We  need  an  alternate  route  to  the  bridge."
　　A  blue  arrow  flashed  on  his  heads-up  display.  The  Chief  turned  and  spotted  a  hatch  to  his  right.  He  pointed  to  the  hatch  and  signaled  his  team  to  move,  then  ran  to  the  hatch  and  touched  the  control  panel.
　　The  small  door  slid  open  to  reveal  a  narrow  corridor  beyond,  snaking  into  the  darkness.
　　He  didn't  like  it.  The  corridor  was  too  dark  and  too  narrow—a  perfect  place  for  an  ambush.  He  briefly  considered  heading  back  to  the  primary  bay  door,  but  abandoned  that  idea.  Smoke  and  sparks  poured  from  the  door  seams  as  the  Covenant  forces  on  the  other  side  tried  to  burn  their  way  through.
　　The  Chief  clicked  on  his  low-light  vision  filters,  and  the  dark?ness  washed  away  into  a  grainy  flood  of  fluorescent  green.  No  contacts.