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"Chief," she whispered over the COM. "Be advised that the passages I'm uploading into your NAV system no longer contain atmosphere. Proceeding into those regions will be lethal to the rest of your team."
There was a three-second pause, and then the Chief replied, "Understood."
Cortana's decryption of the Covenant communiques referenc?ing the "holy one" finally cycled to a halt. The language in them was unusually ornate—even more so than the florid prose of the higher-ranking Elites. It was impossible to develop a literal translation, but she gleaned that some dignitary was due at the Halo construct. Soon.
This visitor was so important that these warships were only the advance scouting party. More ships were on their way. Hun?dreds of them.
ERIC NYLUND 69
"Chief," Cortana said. "We may have a prob—"
"Hold transmission, Cortana," the Chief interrupted. "We're outside the command center. Can you tell how many are inside?"
"Negative. They have disabled the bridge sensors," she replied.
"You heard Cortana," the Chief said, addressing his com?panions. "Expect anything. Sergeant, you and Locklear: Get in position."
"Roger that," Sergeant Johnson whispered. "In position and ready to kick Covenant ass."
"We're about to blow the door on this end, Cortana. Stand by."
Cortana picked up energy surges on the flagship's lateral sen?sors. The Covenant cruisers turned; their plasma weapons warmed and readied to fire.
"Chief," Cortana said. "Hurry!"
"Plasma grenades on my mark," the Chief said on the COM. "Mark! Toss them and take cover."
The Chief tossed two plasma grenades. They burned magnesium-brilliant and adhered to the heavy alloy of the bulk?head doors that encased the bridge—one of the alien weapons' more useful properties. He moved around the corner of the pas?sage and shielded Haverson and Polaski.
Five seconds elapsed, and a flash filled the hallway. The Chief moved back to the doors. They shone mirror-bright where the grenade had detonated but were otherwise unharmed.
A hundred grenades wouldn't have blasted through these doors—but when Covenant plasma grenades detonated, they disrupted electronics and shielding. The Chief dug his gauntleted fingers into the door crack—hoping that the disruption had knocked out the motors and shielding keeping these doors closed.
He braced himself and tried to pull the doors apart at the seams. They slid a few centimeters, then ground to a halt. The Chief adjusted his footing and strained at them again, but the doors remained frozen in place.
The Chief's motion sensors pulsed a warning—there was movement directly on the other side of the door.
He shoved the muzzle of his assault rifle into the narrow open?ing and squeezed the trigger. Spent shell casings clattered to the floor.
70
HALO: FIRST STRIKE
A howl echoed from the other side, and a curl of gray smoke drifted through the crack.
The Chief slung his rifle, grabbed the doors, flexed, pulled— and this time the heavy metal moved.