第199页

　　"Where  to,  Chief?"  Linda  asked.
　　"Away,"  John  said  and  looked  at  the  system  NAV  display.  He  pointed  to  the  tiny  moon  orbiting  the  nearby  planet.  "Get  us  into  the  moon's  shadow.  But  slow.  Try  not  to  attract  any  attention."
　　His  countdown  timer  read  5:12.  They  might  still  have  time.
　　"Roger,"  Linda  said.
　　The  dropship  spun  about  and  gently  moved  away  from  the  sta?tion,  almost  imperceptibly  accelerating  toward  the  tiny  moon  covered  with  black  and  silver  pockmarks.
　　Fred  hunched  over  his  console.  Thick  spiky  lines  representing  the  Covenant  F-  through  K-bands  fluxed  and  flickered  on  his  screen.  "Covenant  COM  channels  are  jammed,"  he  reported.
　　326 HALO:  FIRST  STRIKE
　　"Communiques  and  queries  to  and  from  every  ship  in  the  fleet  wondering  what  the  hell  is  going  on.  And  the  station's  COM  channels  are  all  full  of  those  copied  Cortanas  ...  and  she's  just  repeating  different  system  error  codes."
　　"What's  this?"  John  asked,  leaning  over  Fred's  shoulder.  He  pointed  to  one  COM  band  with  only  a  single  spike.
　　Fred  looked  at  the  Covenant  calligraphy  for  a  long  moment,  and  then  inhaled  sharply.  "If  the  translation  software  is  working  right,"  he  whispered,  "that's  the  E-band...  it's  one  of  ours."
　　Fred  snapped  on  the  external  speakers.  Six  tones  beeped,  stopped,  and  then  repeated.
　　"Oly  Oly  Oxen  Free,"  John  breathed.  "Send  the  countersign,  Fred."
　　"Aye,  Chief.  Sending  now."
　　Who  could  have  sent  that  signal?  There  was  no  other  living  Spartan  in  this  system.  Unless  it  was  Dr.  Halsey  and  Kelly.  Had  they  somehow  tracked  them?
　　"It's  about  time  you  showed  up."  The  drawling  voice  of  Admi?ral  Whitcomb  was  loud  and  clear  over  the  COM.  "Switch  to  en?cryption  scheme  'Rainbow.'  "
　　John  nodded  to  Fred,  who  ran  a  shunt  from  the  Covenant  COM  into  the  data  port  in  the  back  of  his  helmet.  "Decryption  online,"  Fred  reported.
　　"Admiral,"  John  said.  "With  all  due  respect,  sir,  why  are  you  here?"
　　"Lieutenant  Haverson  suggested  we  drop  out  of  Slipspace  on  the  edge  of  this  system—hide  in  the  Oort  cloud  and  gather  a  lit?tle  intel."  The  Admiral  sighed.  "Well,  I  took  one  look  and  figured  that  even  if  you  took  out  that  station...  hell,  son,  there'd  still  be  a  couple  of  hundred  Covenant  ships  within  spittin'  distance  of  Earth.  Me  getting  there  and  warning  them  about  it  wouldn't  make  a  lick  of  difference.  So  I'm  going  to  do  something  about  it  here  and  now.  You've  done  your  part,  Chief.  Leave  the  rest  to  me."
　　There  was  a  pause,  then  the  Admiral  asked  in  a  low,  serious  tone,  "You  did  get  it  done,  didn't  you,  son?  You  got  that  station  rigged  to  blow?"
　　"Yes,  sir."  John  linked  his  mission  timer  to  the  COM.  "Four  minutes  thirty-two  seconds  and  counting."
　　ERIC  NYLUND
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　　"Perfect,  Master  Chief.  Bring  'em  on  back  to  the  barn.  Stay  on  your  heading.  Your  instincts  are  dead  on.  We're  on  the  far  side  of  the  moon  and  are  waiting  for  you."
　　John  motioned  to  Linda  to  increase  their  velocity.  She  pushed  the  acceleration  stripe  to  three  quarters  power.
　　"Waiting,  sir?"
　　"Whitcomb  over  and  out."  The  COM  went  dead.