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The Covenant cruiser rounded the planetoid, targeted the Get?tysburg, and fired.
Cortana's single shot impacted on the nose of the enemy craft first. The cruiser's shield flashed solid silver for a moment and was gone. The supercompressed plasma tore into the hull of the warship—exploding the metal where it touched. The plasma forked and detonated outward as it chained through the vessel. Secondary explosions rippled through the alien ship's hull.
Edges of its shattered hull glowed red and then white hot as their superheated atmosphere vented. The bolt ripped through the engineering compartment, shattered their reactors—and the entire warship blossomed into fire and ejected trails of golden sparks and dying flickers of static electricity.
The five plasma bolts that the Covenant cruiser fired at the Gettysburg dispersed into a red haze. There was no longer any magnetic force to shape and guide them to their intended target.
The bridge crew watched the explosions fade from the for?ward screens. The Admiral said, "Status?"
Fred tapped the screen of the Engineering station and re?ported: "Engines and reactor offline. That magnetic pulse did something to them."
Static washed over Weapons Station One as the Master Chief looked up and said, "MAC accelerating coils intact. Drone one destroyed. Retrieving drone two, sir."
Cortana's holographic presence was missing, but her voice sounded triumphantly through the bridge speakers: "Turret number three destroyed. But if we ever get any of the other six turrets in working order, we'll have a formidable arsenal."
"We may not get that chance," Lieutenant Haverson remarked as he bent over the NAV station. "Contacts inbound. Small ships. Dozens of them. Transferring to the forward screens."
Armored Pelicans, exoskeleton welders, a handful of Long-
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sword singleships, and the odd stealth Chirvptera-class vessel appeared on screen.
"Jiles's fleet," Haverson stated. "And he has us exactly where he wants us—dead in the water."
"Incoming transmission," Cortana said. "Piping it through."
"Admiral Whitcomb?" Jiles's rich and resonant voice flooded the bridge. "Can I be of some assistance? A tow, perhaps, back to our base so we can expedite repairs to your ships?"
"That would be most kind of you," the Admiral said and eased back into the Captain's chair.
Two Laden-class cargo ships came alongside the Gettysburg and attached; their engines rumbled.
"I don't understand," Haverson whispered. "He had us."
"No, he didn't," Admiral Whitcomb replied. He scowled and added, "Governor Jiles may not like it, but he needs us now. The Covenant aren't going to send just one ship. After this one goes missing for a while, there'll be more. A lot more. This is only the start of the battle, son."
John and his six remaining teammates sat in the Gettysburg's machine shop. The room was large enough to fit a Longsword in?side, and the walls, ceilings, and deck had robotic arms tipped with welders, multitools, and hydraulic presses. Three of the arms had high-intensity spotlights directed onto the walls and provided a clear, cool, indirect illumination that the Master Chief found soothing after having one too many plasma blasts etch his retinas.