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They had to win this battle, here and now, and claim the Forerunner technologies that would shift the strategic balance of power in the galaxy. So perhaps it was Destiny after all that had brought them to this world, but it was destiny of their own making.
He strode to the translocation platforms and rechecked the target coordinates. Voro was no priest, and he understood only a fraction of the Forerunner holy script.
The same message had repeated since they found this system.
Holographic icons swarmed over the control surface. Voro read them, shouting the divine passage to his soldiers: "The dark times are upon us… Unsheathe thy swords and smite… The Ark will be your guide… And bless the Reclaimers that may take refuge behind the sharpened edge of the Shield… Wonder beyond awaits."
Two hundred Sangheili roared their approval as if the message had been set here for them, writ eons ago by gods.
In truth, the nuances of this message's meaning were lost upon Voro. He had discerned, though, the center of this world was where the "Reclaimers" were to assemble: a place that held technological wonders and weapons beyond measure.
Their task was clear: stop the human demons from getting there first.
He motioned to the suicide Unggoy squads.
The small creatures crowded upon the platforms.
Voro input the translocation command and sent the first wave into battle.
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← ^ → CHAPTER
THIRTY-NINE
2140 HOURS, NOVEMBER 3, 2552 (MILITARY CALENDAR) \ ZETA DORADUS SYSTEM \ UNDETERMINED LOCATION IN THE FORERUNNER CONSTRUCT KNOWN AS ONYX-CORE-ROOM ANTECHAMBER
The crack of Linda's sniper rifle was uncharacteristically quiet. The sound dissipated into the vast room.
Two hundred meters from her perch a Grunt cried out. It fell, killed by the head shot. A jet of methane from its breathing apparatus ignited and spewed fire.
That was five. The creatures had appeared on translocation pads, chittering like a dozen cockroaches, lugging parts of an energy shield unit. They had looked confused, running in random directions… until downed by Linda.
Without shifting from her flat position or removing her gaze from the Oracle scope, Linda dropped her magazine and inserted a new one. Lying next to her in a precise row were five magazines, all she had left.
Kurt surveyed his team. They'd taken the only logical, defensible position in the room: atop the artificial hill of concentric rings.
The top of the structure was crowned with a meter-wide ledge and thirteen finlike towers that provided ample cover. The Spartans and Mendez took posts on either side of three of these towers.
Kelly had placed their last LOTUS antitank mines at the base of the hill, enough explosive force to penetrate the ultradense armor of an M808 Scorpion Main Battle Tank.
His team had height, clean lines of fire, and yet Kurt knew they were entirely vulnerable surrounded by so many translocation pads.