第202页

　　"Aye,  sir,"  Haverson  said  and  clumsily  adjusted  the  COM.
　　"Come  on,  mighty  Covenant  warriors,"  the  Admiral  shouted.  "We're  here  in  the  middle  of  your  fleet  with  your  'holy  of  holies.'  "  He  flicked  his  ringer  at  the  holographic  shard,  and  it  pinged  as  if  actually  struck.  "Come  and  get  it!"  He  laughed  again.
　　Hundreds  of  Covenant  ships  moved  toward  them.  Grapple  lines  and  grav  beams  attached  to  the  broken  hull  of  the  Ascen?dant  Justice.  A  thousand  dropships  and  Elites  in  thrust  packs  filled  the  space  around  the  flagship.
　　The  Master  Chief  watched  the  countdown  timer:  0:27.
　　Along  the  ten-kilometer  dorsal  bulb  of  the  space  station,  patches  warmed  to  a  dull  red,  the  heat  from  the  overloading  reac?tors  becoming  outwardly  visible.
　　"Move  us  back,  Linda,"  John  said.  "Keep  us  in  the  moon's  shadow.  Use  as  much  power  as  we  can  spare."
　　"Aye,  Chief,"  Linda  replied.  "Forward  thrusters  answering  one  third  reverse  power.  Course  one-eight-zero."
　　"Cortana,"  he  asked,  "Slipspace  generator  status?"
　　"Almost  ready,  Chief,"  Cortana  said.  She  bit  her  lower  lip  in  concentration.  "Capacitor  charge  at  eighty  percent.  Adjusting  fi?nal  calculations.  Stand  by."
　　On  screen  the  Admiral  wheeled  toward  the  bulkhead  sealing  the  flagship's  bridge.  Sparks  cascaded  along  the  seam  as  arc  cut?ters  on  the  other  side  penetrated.  "Master  Chief,  I  have  final  or?ders  for  you."
　　"Sir,"  John  said.
　　"You  watch  and  see  what's  left  of  this  rabble  when  we're  done  with  'em.  Do  not  engage  under  any  circumstances.  You  get  the  intel  and  hightail  it  back  to  Earth  and  make  your  report."
　　"Understood,  sir."
　　"Now  listen,  son,  remember  when  we  talked  about  the  Alamo?  You  know  every  one  of  the  brave  defenders  in  those  fights  died.  They  knew  the  odds,  but  they  hurt  the  enemy."  He  gritted  his  teeth  in  pain.  "Both  were  tactical  defeats,  but  in  the  end  they  were  also  brilliant  strategic  victories.  They  made  the  enemy
　　332 HALO:  FIRST  STRIKE
　　afraid.  Just  a  few  good  soldiers  fighting  for  what's  right  made  the  difference."
　　"Yes,  sir."
　　John  remembered  all  those  who  had  made  a  difference  for  him.  Sam.  James.  CPO  Mendez.  Captain  Keyes.  The  men  and  women  who  had  fought  and  died  on  Halo.  And  now  two  more  names  to  add  to  that  list:  Whitcomb  and  Haverson.
　　The  bulkhead  blasted  off  its  mounts  and  clattered  onto  the  deck  of  the  Ascendant  Justice's  bridge.  Silhouetted  in  the  pas?sage  were  dozens  of  Elites,  their  energy  swords  blurs  of  motion  and  light.  Admiral  Whitcomb  fired  a  submachine  gun.
　　The  central  viewscreen  dissolved  into  static.
　　John  watched  for  a  moment,  hoping  the  Admiral  and  the  Lieu?tenant  would  reappear  ...  but  screen  number  two  remained  offline.
　　Video  feed  from  the  Clarion  spy  drone  filled  the  side  screens.  There  were  two  hundred  warships  clustered  tightly  about  the  figure-eight-shaped  Unyielding  Hiewphant.  A  similar  number  of  ships  circled  in  loose  orbital  trajectories.  The  formation  reminded  John  of  a  miniature  spiral  galaxy...  with  a  supernova  core.
　　The  dorsal  bulb  of  the  space  station  shot  with  color—red,  or?ange,  and  blurred  with  blue-white  heat  in  a  heartbeat;  plasma  tendrils  erupted  from  the  surface  like  solar  flares.  Internal  explo?sions  chained  down  the  station's  length  through  the  narrow  cen?ter  portion  and  into  the  ventral  bulb,  shattering  that  section  and  discharging  bolts  of  lightning  that  arced  along  the  station's  frag?ments  and  to  the  nearby  ships.