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Kurt wrapped his limp arm around her shoulder. "You two didn't survive Pegasi Delta to die here," he told her. "There's too much left for you to do."
She shook her head violently back and forth.
"Yes," he said. "Don't make me…"
His vision blurred and a wave of dizziness washed over him. His heart struggled, pumping harder and faster. There was a warm trickle in his stomach. He was losing more blood. Slipping into shock.
Plasma blots stitched the stone nearby, shattering them, as Banshees screamed by on a strafing run.
"Please," he whispered.
Lucy reached up to Kurt's faceplate, touching two fingers to his mouth. She struggled to make a sound, but all she could manage was a half-choked cry.
He took her hand, gave it a squeeze, and let go.
Lucy lingered, looked at Kurt one last time, and then slipped into the rift.
"Good-bye," he said.
They were gone. All of them.
Now Kurt could concentrate on what had to be done.
He picked up Tom's MASK. Its ammo counter indicated half a magazine. It would have to do. He grabbed the last missile launcher, too. He was sure he could find a use for it.
The "hill" around the center was only a meter tall now and shrinking rapidly as the concentric rings eased back to the floor of the room. The finlike towers folded inward, almost flat against the ground.
Elite snipers poked over the top of the hill and fired a tight cluster of plasma.
Kurt was too slow to dodge the shots. His SPI armor heated, cracked, and half of his chest plate shattered away.
Smoldering, Kurt dropped to his knees. Blackness clouded his mind. He struggled to stay conscious—fought his way back by sheer willpower, and his vision cleared.
The snipers backed away, not bothering to finish him off. More Elites appeared on the hill, now only a half meter tall, sinking even faster toward a level topology.
A Hunter pair appeared on the slight rise and assessed Kurt. They snorted, unimpressed.
Almost there, he thought. Almost done. Almost won.
Kurt grabbed up the SPNKr launcher and fired from the hip. The missile rocketed toward one Hunter, hit, exploded, and knocked it off the top. Kurt leveled his assault rifle and sprayed the other Hunter, but it turtled behind its shield.
The rifle's bolt clacked—empty.
The Hunter stood and growled. Its mate, bloodied and still smoking from the missile impact, stomped toward Kurt, hands ready to tear him to pieces.
Kurt ventured a glance back. The rift was only a flicker now, and shrinking.
His mission timer read "0:47."
A sharp bark behind the Hunters made them halt in their tracks.
An Elite in golden armor strode toward them, gracing Kurt with a glance that was part disdain… and part respect. It jabbered orders at the Hunters and the others.
Kurt's translation software deciphered part of this: "Damage not the center. Engineers with the Slipspace field shunts… Reopen the silver gate. Glory is ours!"
A roar of thunderous triumph burst from the gathered Covenant.
Kurt struggled to rise. There was more pain than he'd ever felt, and his legs had turned to wet sand. His vision tunneled… but he got to his feet… and raised both hands into a fighting stance.