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Grace fired the fuel rod gun, hit the broken phalanx forma?tion, and blew them literally to bits. She dropped the weapon. "Rad counter at max dosage," she called out. "This thing's too hot to use anymore."
"Back away!" the Chief ordered. "Those things have a fail-safe!"
188 HALO: FIRST STRIKE
Grace sprang back, just in time. The fallen fuel rod gun sparked, sputtered, and then blew with the force of a frag grenade. Black?ened, twisted tile rained down on them.
Locklear jogged up and fired at the Grants fleeing the excava?tion. They weren't armed. Locklear mowed them down without remorse.
From a pile of shattered stone, a pair of battered Elites struggled to rise. Blood and bone exploded outward from their chests, and they spun around toward the source of this force—boulders pushed away from the blocked passage. Three Spartans emerged from their cover, assault rifles smoking from their recent discharge.
John knew instantly the three were Kelly, Fred, and Will.
He ran forward to meet them.
Fred lowered his weapon. "Anton ... Grace ... John?" he said disbelievingly.
The Master Chief opened a COM channel to his Spartans. "It's me. I wish I had time to explain everything. I will—later. Let's get the hell out of here first."
Kelly quickly reached out and swiped her two fingers across John's faceplate.
He wanted to return the smile, but at that moment Admiral Whitcomb, running full force, skidded to a stop next to the Spar?tans. He was followed in short order by Haverson, Locklear, and Johnson, who kept looking over his shoulder to scan the huge empty room around them.
"Is this everyone?" Admiral Whitcomb asked.
"No, sir," Fred replied. "There's one more." He turned and ex?tended his hand back into the partially collapsed tunnel. "Ma'am? It's safe to come out."
For a heartbeat the Master Chief forgot that he was in the heart of an enemy's camp; he forgot about the war, that Reach had fallen, and everything else he had gone through in the last few days. He had never thought he would see her again.
Dr. Halsey emerged from the partially caved-in tunnel. She brushed dust from the hem of her skirt and lab coat with one slender hand.
"Admiral Whitcomb," she said, "a pleasure to see you again. My thanks for the rescue. It was far timelier than you could
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imagine." She turned to the Master Chief. "Or is it you I have to thank for this daring operation, John?"
The Master Chief found he had no words to answer. He also bristled at her casual use of his given name... but he could for?give her that. She had always used his name—never his rank or serial number.
He noticed the fist-sized crystal clutched in her hand. It had a thousand facets and emitted a brilliant blue light the color of sapphires and sunlight on water.
"Thank anyone you want, Catherine," Admiral Whitcomb said. "Throw us all a party if that'll make you happy... once we're out of here." He clicked open his COM. "Polaski, get down—"
Sergeant Johnson set his hand on the Admiral's arm and nod?ded toward the far wall.