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"Two-second timer confirmed," Linda said. "Commands accepted and confirmed. All six FENRIS nukes show armed status."
"Mark!" Fred tapped the jump button.
Nothing happened…
Black space turned white.
Lord Hood watched from the command deck of Cairo Station, ignoring the warbling emergency signals.
The Covenant destroyer had maneuvered to optimal plasma range. He hoped the shields of the Spartan-captured ship staved off at least one salvo, and gave Blue Team the time they needed.
Spartan-104's plan had been inspired, yet in Lord Hood's seasoned opinion, suicidal. Dr. Catherine Halsey had once told him in confidence that Spartans considered it their duty to prove the impossible possible.
The Covenant ship's plasma lines reddened, bolts formed, and launched. At the same time, the enemy destroyer flashed inside their energy shields; its hull glowed and vaporized as the stolen nuclear devices onboard detonated. A circle of white light appeared an instant before Cairo Station's polarization shields cut the viewscreens. Thermal and radiologicals showed smears of amber and red mushrooming outward in a wavering torus.
Station Wayward Rest had been obliterated as well. The length of the Tallo Negro del Maiz crumpled and fell to the Earth.
There was no sign of the Spartan-held ship. There was no way to know if they had succeeded and jumped into Slipstream space or not.
Lord Hood chose to believe they had done the impossible anti whispered, "Godspeed, Blue Team."
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← ^ → CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
1440 HOURS, NOVEMBER 3, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ABOARD THE CAPTURED COVENANT DESTROYER BLOODIED SPIRIT, IN SLIPSTREAM SPACE
Fred sat on the bridge deck of Bloodied Spirit, breathing air tinged with the scent of Hunter blood. It smeiled like burnt plastic to him.
He polished a tiny quantum mirror and set it back into its sensor housing. This he slipped into the pauldron of his MJOLNIR armor and clicked the cover. The mirror had been encrusted with sea salt, causing his motion sensor to fail… and almost costing him his life back on Havana.
Linda passed a canteen to Fred and sloshed its contents to get his attention. He accepted it, opened his faceplate, and enjoyed a taste of nonrecycled water.
Were the three of them on this ship the last Spartans? Fred wondered if John was dead. Or Kelly. There was no mention of Kelly in Dr. Halsey's communique. And what had ever happened to Gray Team on a mission far outside the confines of UNSC space, now missing for over a year? He would never voice these worries. It might sap Blue Team's morale. But for the first time, real doubt eroded Fred's confidence. Doubt that John, Kelly, and the others were alive.
Linda touched his arm with a finger and dispersed these thoughts. She then patted the bullet-shaped nuclear warhead on the floor next to him. "Remember? The rebel base?"
They'd brought one of the FENRIS warheads up here in case