第45页

　　The  Elite  raised  the  energy  blade  and  charged.
　　CHAPTER  EIGHT
　　1802  hours,  September  22,2552  (Military  Calendar)  \  Aboard  unidentified  Covenant  flagship,  uncharted  system,  Halo  debris  field.
　　The  Master  Chief  ducked  as  the  hissing  energy  blade  slashed  at  him.  He  dived  toward  the  Elite  and  slammed  the  butt  of  his  ri?fle  into  the  alien's  midsection.
　　The  Elite  doubled  over,  and  the  Chief  brought  the  rifle  butt  down  to  smash  the  alien's  skull—
　　But  the  Elite  rolled  back.  There  was  a  blur  of  motion  as  the  en?ergy  blade  lashed  out  and  neatly  bisected  the  assault  rifle.  The  two  halves  of  the  wrecked  MA5B  clattered  to  the  deck.
　　The  blade  of  crackling  white-hot  energy  narrowly  missed  the  Chief.  The  MJOLNIR's  internal  temperature  skyrocketed.
　　He  couldn't  risk  dancing  at  this  range,  so  the  Master  Chief  did  the  last  thing  the  creature  expected:  He  stepped  closer  and  grabbed  its  wrists.
　　The  bands  of  muscle  on  the  Elite's  arms  were  iron  hard,  and  it  struggled  to  free  itself  from  the  Chief's  grasp.  The  Chief  wrenched  the  alien's  sword  arm  and  forced  the  blade  away—but  this  took  most  of  his  strength,  and  he  had  to  weaken  his  grasp  on  the  Elite's  other  hand.
　　The  energy  blade  blurred  perilously  close  to  the  Chief's  head.  It  missed  by  a  fraction  of  a  centimeter  and  sent  a  wash  of  static  across  his  heads-up  display.
　　The  blade  was  a  flattened  triangle  of  white-hot  plasma,  con?tained  in  an  electromagnetic  envelope  that  emanated  from  its  hilt.  The  Chief  had  seen  such  weapons  slice  battle-armored
　　ERIC  NYLUND 73
　　ODSTs  in  half  and  gouge  gaping  wounds  in  Titanium-A  armor  plating.
　　Worse,  this  Elite  was  tough,  cunning,  well  trained—and  it  hadn't  spent  days  fighting  nonstop  on  Halo.  The  Chief  felt  every  wound,  pulled  muscle,  and  strained  tendon  in  his  body.
　　Haverson  and  Polaski  moved  onto  the  bridge,  their  pistols  drawn,  but  neither  of  them  had  a  clear  line  of  fire.
　　"Move,  Chief!"  Haverson  shouted.  "Damn  it,  we've  got  no  shot!"
　　Easier  said  than  done.  If  he  let  go,  the  Elite  would  cut  him  in  two.
　　The  Master  Chief  grunted,  struggling  to  turn  the  Elite.
　　The  alien  fought  back  for  a  moment,  then—instead  of  resisting—lurched  back,  right  into  the  path  of  the  Chief's  ad?vancing  teammates.
　　The  Elite  flicked  the  angle  of  its  blade  flat  so  the  arc  of  energy  whipped  toward  Haverson  and  Polaski.
　　Haverson  screamed  and  fell  to  the  ground  as  the  energy  blade  sliced  through  his  pistol  and  across  his  chest.  Polaski  cursed  and  fired  a  single  shot,  but  it  glanced  off  the  Elite's  shield.
　　The  alien  glanced  at  the  source  of  the  fire  and  growled  in  its  guttural,  warbling  tongue.
　　"Get  the  Lieutenant  out  of  here,"  the  Master  Chief  barked.  He  raised  his  knee  to  his  chest  and  lashed  out  with  a  straight  kick.  His  boot  connected  with  the  Elite's  breastplate.  The  alien's  en?ergy  shield  flared,  then  faded,  and  its  breastplate  cracked  like  porcelain  beneath  the  force  of  the  blow.
　　The  alien  staggered  back,  dragging  the  Master  Chief  with  it.  It  coughed  up  purple-black  blood  that  smeared  John's  visor,  ob?scuring  his  vision.  Its  foot  struck  something  on  the  ground—the  alien's  fallen  helmet—and  it  lost  its  footing.