第196页

　　Fred  hesitated  but  then  nodded.
　　"I  can't  leave  her,"  John  said  and  gunned  his  Banshee's  throt?tle.  "Not  if  she's  still  alive."
　　Dr.  Halsey's  last  words  to  him  resonated  in  John's  mind:  I  should  have  been  trying  to  save  every  single  human  life—no  matter  what  it  cost.
　　He'd  get  to  Linda.  He'd  get  her  out  alive—or  die  trying.
　　CHAPTER  THIRTY-FIVE
　　1820  hours,  September  13,2552  (revised  date,  Military  Calendar)\Aboard  Covenant  battle  station  Unyielding  Hierophant.
　　The  Master  Chief  accelerated  his  Banshee  to  its  top  speed.
　　There  was  another  explosion  at  the  temple,  and  plumes  of  steam  geysered  into  the  air  from  the  heat-exchange  plant.  The  circling  formations  of  Banshees  scattered.
　　John  tucked  as  close  as  he  could  to  his  flier's  fuselage  and  coaxed  every  bit  of  speed  from  the  craft.
　　A  pair  of  Banshees  swooped  in,  one  off  his  port,  the  other  on  his  starboard.  Their  plasma  weapons  heated;  John  rolled  back  and  forth  to  throw  their  aim.  He  braced  for  impact...  but  there  was  none.
　　The  Chief  craned  his  head  back  and  saw  the  pilot  of  the  lead  Banshee  slump,  slide  offthe  flier,  and  plummet  to  the  ground.  The  trailing  Banshee  was  riderless  as  well...  only  a  blood-spattered  cockpit  and  cowling.
　　Linda  still  had  him  covered—had  taken  out  both  pilots  with  precise  fire.  She  had  to  be  close.
　　John  scanned  the  area.  There  were  spires  and  water-reclamation  towers,  transport  tubes  and  catwalks  that  crisscrossed  the  center  of  the  interior.  There  was  a  nexus  of  walkways  near  the  beam  of  il?lumination  that  ran  down  the  center  of  the  station,  a  location  with  enough  glare  that  a  sniper  might  hide  in  the  open  undetected.
　　He  risked  keying  Linda's  private  COM  channel.  "Thought  you  might  need  a  ride,  so  I—"
　　An  energy  mortar  blasted  over  John's  shoulder,  burning  the  air  like  a  sun  in  close  orbit  and  draining  his  shields  to  half.  It
　　322 HALO:  FIRST  STRIKE
　　impacted  a  water  tower,  and  the  structure  detonated  into  a  cloud  of  blinding  steam.
　　John  punched  the  Banshee  through  the  cloud,  glanced  down,  and  saw  a  Wraith  tank  tracking  his  trajectory.  He  ducked  and  weaved  but  kept  moving  toward  Linda's  probable  location.
　　His  mission  countdown  timer  read  7:06.  There  was  no  time  for  fancy  evasive  maneuvers.
　　Did  Linda  even  want  to  be  found?  Maybe  she  wanted  him  to  get  to  safety  and  leave  her  behind?  It's  what  he  would  have  done.
　　"Position  report,  Linda,"  John  barked  over  the  COM.  "That's  a  direct  order."
　　Three  seconds  ticked  off  his  mission  clock  and  then  the  six-tone  "Oly  Oly  Oxen  Free  "  song  whistled  through  John's  speak?ers  and  a  NAV  marker  appeared  on  his  heads-up  display.
　　The  triangular  marker  centered  on  a  rope  that  ran  between  two  transit  tubes  and  dangled  perilously  close  to  the  high-intensity  light  beam.  It  was  a  barely  discernible  thread  that  ran  through  a  hard  shadow  cast  by  a  nearby  catwalk.
　　John  hit  his  image  enhancers.  Through  the  glare  of  the  light,  and  in  the  depths  of  the  shadow,  he  caught  the  flicker  of  reflected  optics.
　　Linda  used  both  the  brilliant  light  and  the  darkness  to  hide.