He recognized the next voice as belonging to Gunnery Sergeant Waller, the Helljumper in charge of their LZ. “Okay, people,” Waller drawled, “we got company coming. Engage enemy forces on sight.”
“It’ll be easier to hold them off from inside the structure,” Cortana put in. “Can you get inside?”
“Negative!” Waller replied. “They’re closing in too fast. We’ll keep ’em busy as long as we can.”
“Give ’em hell, Marine,” the AI said grimly, and broke the connection. “We’ll all be in a tight spot if we don’t get out of here before enemy reinforcements arrive.”
“Roger that,” the Master Chief replied, as he pushed his way down a ramp, through a pair of hatches, and into the gloomy spaces beyond. He marched over some transparent decking, crossed a footbridge and killed a pair of Grunts he found there, followed another ramp to the floor below, tossed a grenade into a group of enemies that patrolled the area, and hurried through a likely looking opening. There was a roar of outrage as an Elite fired up at him from the platform below while some Grunts barked and gibbered.
The Spartan used a grenade to grease the entire group and hurried down to see what they had been guarding. He recognized the Map Room the moment he saw the opening, and had just stepped inside when another Elite opened up on him from across the way. A sustained burst from his assault weapon was sufficient to drop the alien’s personal shields, and he put the alien down with a stroke of his rifle butt.
“There!” Cortana said. “That holo panel should activate the map.”
“Any idea how to activate it?”
“No,” she replied, her tone arch. “You’re the one with the magic touch.”
The Master Chief took a couple of steps forward and reached a hand toward the display. He seemed to know instinctively how to activate the panel – it almost seemed hard-wired, like his fight-or-flight response.
He banished the random thought and returned to the mission. He slid his armored hand across the panel and a glowing wire-frame map appeared and seemed to float in front of him. “Analyzing,” the AI said. “Halo’s Control Center is” – she highlighted a section of the map in his HUD – “there. Interesting. It looks like some sort of shrine.”
She opened a channel. “Cortana to Captain Keyes.”
There was silence for a moment, followed by Foehammer’s voice. “The Captain has dropped out of contact, Cortana. His ship may be out of range or may be having equipment problems.”
“Keep trying,” the AI replied. “Let me know when you reestablish contact. And then tell him that the Master Chief and I have determined the location of the Control Center.”
Captain Jacob Keyes tried to ignore the incessant slam-bam beat of the Sergeant’s colonial flip music that pounded over the intercom as the pilot lowered the dropship into a swamp. “Everything looks clear – I’m bringing her down.”
The Pelican’s jets whipped the water into a frenzy as the ramp was lowered and the cargo compartment was flooded with thick, humid air. It carried the nauseating stench of rotting vegetation, the foul odor of swamp gas, and the slight metallic tang typical of Halo itself. Somebody said, “Pe-euu,” but was drowned out by Staff Sergeant Avery Johnson, who shouted, “Go! Go! Go!” and the Marines jumped down into the calf-deep water.
Somebody said, “Damn!” as water splashed up their legs. Johnson said, “Stow it, Marine,” as Keyes cleared the ramp. Freed from its burden, the dropship fired its jets, powered its way up out of the glutinous air, and started to climb.
Keyes consulted a small hand comp. “The structure we’re looking for is supposed to be over there.”
Johnson eyed the pointing finger and nodded. “Okay, you slackers, you heard the Captain. Bisenti, take point.”
Private Wallace A. Jenkins was toward the rear, which was almost as bad as point, but not quite. The ebony water topped his boots, seeped down through his socks, and found his feet. It wasn’t all that cold – for which the Marine was thankful. Like the rest of the team, he knew that the ostensible purpose of the mission was to locate and recover a cache of Covenant weapons. Still an important thing to do, even in the wake of Lieutenant McKay’s efforts to raid the Pillar of Autumn, and the fact that Alpha Base had been strengthened as a result.
It was a crap detail, however – especially slogging through this dark, mist-clogged swamp.
Something loomed ahead. Bisenti hoped it was what the Old Man had dragged their sorry butts into this swamp for. He hissed the word back to the topkick. “I see a building, Sarge.”
There was the sound of water splashing as Johnson came forward. “Stay close, Jenkins. Mendoza, move it up! Wait here for the Captain and his squad. And get your asses inside.”
Jenkins saw Keyes materialize out of the mist. “Sir!”
Johnson saw Keyes, nodded, and said, “Okay, let’s move!”
Keyes followed the Marines inside. The entire situation was different from what he had expected. Unlike the Covenant, who killed nearly all of the humans they got their hands on, the Marines continued to take prisoners. One such individual, a rather disillusioned Elite named ’Qualomee, had been interrogated for hours. He swore that he’d been part of a group of Covenant soldiers who had delivered a shipment of arms to the forces guarding this very structure.
But there was no sign of a Covenant security team, or the weapons ’Qualomee claimed to have delivered, which meant that he had probably been lying. Something the Captain planned to discuss with the alien upon his return to Alpha Base. In the meantime, Keyes planned to push deeper into the complex and see what he could find. The second squad, under Corporal Lovik, was left to cover their line of retreat, while the rest of the team continued to press ahead.
Ten minutes had passed when a Marine said, “Whoa! Look at that. Something scrambled his insides.”
Johnson looked down at a dead Elite. Other Covenant bodies lay sprawled around the area as well. Alien blood slicked the walls and floor. Keyes approached from behind. “What do we have, Sergeant?”
“Looks like a Covenant patrol,” the noncom answered. “Badass Special Ops types – the ones in the black armor. All KIA.”
Keyes eyed the body and looked up at Bisenti. “Real pretty. Friend of yours?”
The Marine shook his head. “No, we just met.”
It took another five minutes to reach a large metal door. It was locked and no amount of fooling around with the keypad seemed likely to open it. “Right,” Keyes said, as he examined the obstacle. “Let’s get this door open.”
“I’ll try, sir,” the Tech Specialist, Kappus, replied, “but it looks like those Covenant worked pretty hard to lock it down.”
“Just do it, son.”
“Yes, sir.”
Kappus pulled the spoofer out of his pack, attached the box to the door, and pressed a series of keys. Outside of the gentle beeping noises that the black box made as it tapped into the door’s electronics and ran through thousands of combinations per second, there was nothing but silence.
The Marines shifted nervously, unwilling to relax. Sweat dripped down Kappus’ forehead.
They held position for another few minutes, until Kappus nodded with satisfaction and opened the door. The Marines drifted inside. The electronics expert raised a hand. “Sarge! Listen!”
All of the Marines listened. They heard a soft, liquid, sort of slithery sound. It seemed to come from every direction at once.
Jenkins felt jumpy but it was Mendoza who actually put it into words. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this...”