第174页
Inside the ring of towers, a series of additional concentric circles fell steeply into the middle of the structure. In the exact center was a hole three meters wide, glowing with a brilliant blue-white heatless illumination.
This was ostensibly the "doorway" to the core room they sought. It was open, but in the time they had been here, the rings on the hill's outer and inner slopes had continued to flatten, and the fin towers had tilted and angled inward. The entire structure was closing like the petal of a great flower.
Kurt glanced at his mission timer: 21:22.
Holographic control surfaces shimmered about the edge of the hole, and Dr. Halsey crouched there, laptop open, her tiny mote-of-light AI flitting among the symbols. She hadn't flinched at the sound of the sniper rifle, her full concentration fixed upon the center. Around her Kurt had set the eight sleeper pods for additional cover.
"Compressed Slipspace field," Dr. Halsey whispered to her computer. "Transdimensional crossover confirmed. Impossible in normal three-space, at least larger than the Fermi-Planck limit."
"Action on deck!" Mendez cried.
The translocation pads scattered across the white room flickered with rings of gold. Upon dozens of pads… two hundred Grunts materialized.
They screamed, fired plasma and needier pistols, and charged.
Kurt had never been afraid of these diminutive aliens. But this was different. The cowardly creatures were wild-eyed, and sprinted headlong toward them, clawing at the air. Their plasma bolts dissipated along their two-hundred-meter-long trajectories, but several needier rounds exploded on the stones near Kurt.
"Hold your fire," he said over TEAMCOM. He scanned the
advancing line, and then past them spotted three teams of Grunts setting up energy mortars.
"In back," he said. "Take out the artillery."
Linda fired twice. A trio of Grunts assembling one mortar fell.
Holly and Ash grabbed sniper rifles and picked off the other two Grunt teams before the mortars' energy shields activated.
The charging wave of Grunts surged against the base of the hill, clambering over one another to rush up the steep terraces.
"Mines?" Kelly calmly asked over the COM
"Negative," Kurt replied. "Rifles. Everyone—sweep the slopes."
Green acknowledgment lights burned.
They eased out from cover and loosened streams of automatic fire over the target-rich terrain.
The leading Grunts jerked as bullets riddled their bodies. They fell backward onto their fellows, who struggled to maintain their forward momentum. Punctured breathing units spewed methane and blossomed into flame. Many Grunts ignited, tumbled down the stairs, and desperately rolled to extinguish themselves.
The Spartans dropped magazines, inserted fresh ones, and methodically continued shooting.
The Grunts slowed and stopped halfway up the stairs, fell back, dead and alive, still screaming, but now in terror.
The survivors turned and fled—and were cut down.
Heaps of Grunts lay at the foot of the hill. Methane reverse tanks detonated, and burning armor and flesh spiraled up into columns of acrid smoke. Some Grunts attempted to crawl to safety.