第14页
A young commando approached, saluted, and nervously whispered, "Sir, external sensors are off-line."
Graves frowned. "Drag the prisoners out of here. Sound the general alarm. Police those warheads, and tell the liftships to—"
A buzzing sound filled the air. John spied a blur of spinning metal through the doorway. He had a fraction of a second to see it was an eight-armed Asteroidea antipersonnel mine, its pressure trigger jammed with a chunk of gravel—just before it detonated into a ball of thunder.
Metal pinged off John's armor.
Everyone standing in the room doubled over from the con-cussive force and hail of shrapnel.
Six commandos with multiple cuts and bleeding ears rose, weapons ready, shaking their heads to clear the disorientation.
The modified Warthog that had been parked next to the bunker crashed into the open double doorway.
The entire warehouse shook.
The commandos opened fire, and rushed the doorway.
The Warthog pulled away, then with a squeal, it reversed, and then rammed the doorway again. The corrugated steel walls screeched, buckled, and with a shower of sparks the vehicle wedged its midsection in the building like a pregnant queen termite.
The commandos unloaded their confetti makers, puckering the 'Hog's armor.
The top of the midsection slid open and three more Aster-oidea antipersonnel mines arced, whirling like a child's toy— each landing in a corner of the bunker—and exploded.
White-hot metal fragments cut through the commandos like a scythe.
Kurt leapt out and shot the three men still moving. He quickly went to each Spartan and pulled off the collars.
Kelly rolled to her feet. Fred and Linda got up.
Kurt yanked the collar off John's neck. His entire body tingled, but his muscles once again responded to his commands. He flexed his limbs. There was no permanent nerve damage.
"We can forget about stealth now," John said. "Kurt, drive the Warthog. Kelly, Linda, Fred, get those warheads loaded ASAP."
They nodded.
John went to General Graves. A sliver of corrugated steel had lodged in the man's skull.
Unfortunate. Graves had held secrets of the rebels' command and intelligence structure-secrets John had had the barest glimpse of. Their capacities had been greatly underestimated. With the larger Covenant threat looming, John wondered what
the rebels would ultimately do. Attack a weakened UNSC as it battled aliens, or fight against humanity's common enemy?
He ignored the larger strategic picture and focused on the tactical, helping Kelly maneuver the last warhead into the Warthog's armored midsection.
Loaded with the bombs and five armored Spartans, the vehicle bottomed its shocks. John climbed into the rear and Kurt drove, and they sluggishly accelerated away from the secure warehouse.
"Best speed to the PZ," John ordered.
Kurt turned on the Warthog's radio. It buzzed with confused chatter.
"Unit One nonresponsive. Gunfire reported. Man down! Tracking APC. Open fire? Confirm—confirm! All units converge. Do it now!"