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Eighteen months of crew attrition and constant action were now taking their toll on Lash's officers. He watched Lieutenants Durruno and Yang and saw the combat fatigue mirrored in their glazed, dark-circled eyes. They had endured endless waiting— punctuated by salvos of Covenant plasma and laser fire. They'd
witnessed the fall of four colonies and the cremation of billions. They were close to the edge. For that matter, so was he.
"We have our orders," Lash told Waters. "Fifteen minutes in and then we transition back. We'll do our best with the time allotted."
They had limited time for two reasons. First, past fifteen minutes detection by Covenant sensors grew at a statistically geometric rate. Second, after fifteen minutes the Dusk's ability to find the rest of their battle group in Slipspace would exponentially decrease.
Lash sat back, and in the fine tradition of prowler commanders everywhere, he practiced exuding patience.
The Dusk's journey back to Earth had occurred in record time. They had caught a wake in slipstream space, one indeter-minably larger then the Covenant wake they had followed. Their NAV-AI reported: SOLITON-LIKE wave patterns detected near HALO CONSTRUCT. Lash had no idea what had caused it, only reported it to Lord Hood… who had considered his report of Shpspace wakes and then immediately ordered them to attempt the same trick and follow the Spartan strike team's vector until they reached remote station Tripoli. There they would rende-vous with a battle group under the command of Admiral Carl "Buster" Patterson, provide assistance to the Spartan team, and hopefully obtain new technologies that would turn the tide of this war.
Lash had heard rumors of the Spartans' audacious actions, boarding a Covenant ship, nuking its sister ship, destroying the Tallo Negro del Maiz orbital stalk in the process. The stuff legends were made of.
He was more than happy to stay in the shadows. No vid broadcasts about his glorious death, thank you.
The Dusk had had no chance at Earth to take on a full crew or resupply—instead they transitioned immediately to Slipstream space to catch the rapidly dissipating wake of the Spartan-captured Covenant ship.
"Maximum range for the X-ELF radar system," Lieutenant Yang announced. "Eight minutes on the clock, sir."
"Start a high-resolution series," Lash told him, "planet surface to the Lagrange points."
"Coming online now," Yang said. He straightened. "Two contacts in high planetary orbit! Covenant destroyers."
Silhouettes flashed on Lash's display, confirming Yang's analysis.
"Heavy destroyers," Lash murmured. Enough concentrated firepower to take out a dozen UNSC prowlers.
Waters asked, "Could one be the Spartans' ship? We could send a narrow-band encrypted ping, sir."
"Anything is possible with Spartans," Lash said, "but it's not our job to communicate with them. We're here to gather data for Admiral Patterson's strategic consideration."
Waters closed his eyes, thinking a moment, and finally said, "Aye, sir."