第194页

　　"Good-bye,  Grace,"  John  whispered.
　　The  detonation  of  her  power  pack  would  buy  them  more  time  while  the  Covenant  forces  tried  to  figure  out  what  just  happened—  perhaps  they'd  think  Blue  Team  was  still  inside  the  temple.  Grace  had  also  taken  out  a  dozen  Grunts  and  four  Elites  with  her  last  action.  That  would  have  pleased  her.
　　318 HALO:  FIRST  STRIKE
　　John  turned  toward  the  far  end  of  the  great  room  and  spotted  a  band  of  translucent  material  on  the  far  wall.  It  led  to  the  repair  bays  and  air  locks  beyond.  That  was  their  exit.
　　He  glanced  at  his  mission  timer:  8:42.  They'd  have  to  get  there  fast.
　　His  gaze  locked  onto  the  Banshees  in  the  air.  He  searched  for  Linda,  posted  somewhere  in  the  odd  geometry  of  this  station.  She  could  be  anywhere  along  several  kilometers  of  cityscape.
　　John  clicked  on  his  COM.  "Linda,  do  not  reply.  The  Covenant  are  triangulating  on  our  signals.  I'm  hoping  they  do  and  send  a  few  of  those  Banshees  to  reconnoiter.  When  they  get  close  to  the  heat-exchange  plant,  take  them  out—we'll  need  their  vehicles."
　　There  was  no  answer.  Did  that  mean  Linda  understood  and  was  in  a  position  to  help?  Or  was  she  dead?
　　As  John  hoped,  three  Banshees  peeled  off  the  search  forma?tion,  circling  the  temple  and  turning  toward  them.
　　John  waved  Fred  and  Will  out  of  the  elevator  and  into  the  for?est  of  steaming  pipes.  They  scattered,  took  cover,  and  aimed  at  the  incoming  Banshees.
　　The  Banshees  spread  out,  slowed...  but  then  banked,  return?ing  to  the  temple.
　　John  clicked  his  COM  three  times.
　　The  Elite  pilots  immediately  wheeled  about  and  accelerated  toward  their  position.  One  Banshee  flier  nosed  into  a  classic  strafing  dive.  Its  plasma  cannons  warmed  and  crackled  with  en?ergy,  indicating  an  imminent  discharge.
　　There  was  a  spray  of  blood  in  the  flier,  then  the  pilot  fell  for?ward  and  pushed  the  accelerator  to  full.  The  Banshee  careened  through  the  air  at  maximum  velocity—crashing  into  a  water-recovery  tower,  and  wobbled  to  the  ground.
　　"Linda,"  John  muttered  and  tried  to  spot  her.  Judging  from  the  blood  spray,  she'd  managed  to  send  a  round  through  the  tiny  ex?posed  area  of  the  cockpit,  and  inflicted  a  lethal  ricochet.  He  looked  for  her  position;  most  likely  the  shot  had  come  from  be?hind  and  above.  There  were  numerous  catwalks  running  across  the  length  of  the  massive  room.  She  had  to  be  on  one  of  them.
　　The  two  remaining  Banshees  accelerated  toward  Blue  Team.  Their  plasma  cannons  flickered,  and  they  leveled  into  a  flat  trajectory.
　　ERIC  NYLUND
　　319
　　John,  Fred,  and  Will  raised  their  rifles.
　　There  was  a  muted  crack  of  a  sniper  rifle,  and  another  Ban?shee  drifted  to  the  ground,  its  pilot  felled  by  Linda's  uncanny  skill.
　　The  last  remaining  pilot  veered  starboard,  not  knowing  what  had  just  taken  out  its  two  wingmates  ...  only  that  it  had  to  get  out  of  the  area  if  it  was  going  to  live.  In  the  tightest  arc  of  its  curve,  the  craft  slowed.  John  couldn't  tell  precisely  where  the  shot  came  from,  but  a  third  sniper  round  ricocheted  through  the  craft's  cockpit.  The  Banshee  spun  in  circles  before  it  thumped  to  a  halt,  nose-down  in  the  street.