The Hunter rushed out of the darkness, intent on smashing the Chief with his shield, and finishing him with razor-sharp spines. A steady stream of 7.62mm bullets hammered the Hunter’s chest plate and slowed his rate of advance.
’Zamamee, backed by Yayap and his team of Grunts, chose that moment to emerge from the relative safety of the cargo module. The Elite was frightened, but determined to conceal it, and he raised his weapon. But the Hunter was in his line of fire.
Then, as if the melee weren’t confusing enough, the second Hunter charged in, bumped into the Elite, and sent him spinning to the cold metal floor.
Yayap, who found himself standing out in the middle of the floor, was about to order a retreat when one of his subordinates, a Grunt named Linglin, fired a weapon.
It was a stupid thing to do since there was no clear target to shoot at, but that’s what Grunts were encouraged to do when in doubt: shoot. Linglin fired, and the plasma bolt flew straight and true. It hit the second Hunter in the back, and threw the spined warrior forward, and caused him to collide with his bond brother.
“Uh-oh,” Yayap muttered.
The Master Chief saw his opponent start to go down, shot him in the back, and brought the assault weapon back up. The fact that the second Hunter was already down came as something of a surprise, albeit a pleasant one, and he looked for something else to shoot.
No doubt stunned by the enormity of his error, and terrified regarding the potential consequences, Linglin was still backing away when the bulky, armored human raised his weapon and fired. Yayap felt Linglin’s blood spray the side of his face as he tripped over his own feet, fell over backward, and used his hands to push himself back into the shadows. A hand grabbed hold of his combat harness, jerked the Grunt into the still yawning cargo module, and held him in place. “Silence!” ’Zamamee instructed. “This battle is over. We must live to fight another.”
That sounded very good, maybe the most sensible thing he’d heard in a hundred units, so Yayap held his breath as the human walked past the open cargo module. He briefly wondered if there was some way he could get a transfer back to a normal front-line unit. To the diminutive alien trooper, such an assignment seemed considerably less dangerous.
His nerves on edge, fully expecting yet another attack, the Spartan circled the room. But there was nothing for him to deal with except his own twitchiness and the heavy silence which settled over the room.
“Nice job, Chief,” Cortana said. “Head through the cargo modules. The security center lies beyond.”
The Master Chief followed Cortana’s directions, entered a hall, and followed it into a room that featured a small constellation of lights floating at its very center. “Use the holo panel to shut down the security system,” Cortana suggested, and, eager to complete the job before anyone else could attack him, the Spartan hurried to comply. He was again struck by an odd near-familiarity with the glowing controls.
Cortana used the suit sensors to examine the results. “Good!” she exclaimed. “That should open the door that leads into the main shaft. Now all we have to do is find the Silent Cartographer and the map to the Control Room.”
“Right,” the Master Chief replied. “That, and avoid capture in unknown territory, possibly held by the enemy, with no air support or backup.”
“Do you have a plan?” she asked.
“Yes. When we get there, I’m going to kill every single Covenant soldier I find.”
CHAPTER SIX
D+144:38:19 (Lieutenant McKay Mission Clock)
The hills between Alpha Base and the Pillar of Autumn
Three parallel columns of vehicles are pretty hard to hide, and McKay didn’t even try. The combination of some thirty Warthogs and four Scorpions raised a cloud of dust that was visible from more than two kilometers away. No doubt the heat produced by the machines registered on sensors clear out in space. Banshee recon flights could have tracked them from the minute they hit the trail, and there was only one logical place the vehicles could be headed: the butte called Alpha Base.
It wasn’t too surprising that the Covenant not only organized a response, but a massive one. Here, after days of humiliation, was the opportunity to revenge themselves on the beings who had taken the butte away from them, paid a surprise visit to the Truth and Reconciliation, and raided more than a dozen other locations besides.
Knowing she was in for a fight, McKay organized the vehicles into three temporary platoons. The first platoon was comprised of Warthogs under the command of Lieutenant Oros. She had orders to ignore ground targets and concentrate on defending the column from airborne attacks.
Sergeant Lister was in charge of the second platoon’s Scorpion Main Battle Tanks, which, because of their vulnerability to infantry, were kept at the center of the formation.
The third platoon, under McKay herself, was charged with ground defense, which meant keeping Ghosts and infantry off the other two platoons. A third of her vehicles, five Warthogs in all, were unencumbered by trailers and left free to serve as a quick reaction force.
By giving each platoon its own individual assignment, the officer hoped to leverage the Company’s overall effectiveness, ensure fire discipline, and reduce the possibility of casualties caused by friendly fire, a real danger in the kind of melee that she expected.
As the Marines headed east toward Alpha Base, the first challenge lay at the point where the flat terrain ended. Hills rolled up off the plain to form a maze of canyons, ravines, and gullies which, if the humans were foolish enough to enter them, would force the vehicles to proceed single file, which rendered the convoy vulnerable to air and ground attacks. There was a different route, however, a pass approximately half a klick wide. All three columns could pass through it without breaking formation.
The problem, and a rather obvious one, was the fact that a pair of rather sizable hills stood guard to either side of the pass, providing the Covenant with the perfect platform from which to fire down on them.
As if that weren’t bad enough, a third hill lay just beyond, creating a second gate through which the humans would have to pass before gaining the freedom of the plain beyond. It was a daunting prospect – and McKay felt a rising sense of despair as the company drew within rifle shot of the opposing hills. She wasn’t especially religious – but the ancient psalm seemed to form itself in her mind. “Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death...”
Screw it, she thought. She ordered the convoy to lock and load and prepare for a fight. Psalms weren’t going to win the coming fight. Firepower would.
From his vantage point high on what Covenant forces had designated as “Second Hill,” the Elite Ado ’Mortumee used a powerful monocular to eye the human convoy. With the exception of five vehicles, the rest of the alien LRVs were hooked to heavily laden trailers, which prevented them from making much speed. Also serving to slow the convoy down was the presence of four of the humans’ cumbersome tanks.
Rather than risk passage through the hills, their commanding officer had opted to use the pass. Understandable, but a mistake for which the human would pay.
’Mortumee lowered the monocular and turned to look at the Wraith. Though not normally a fan of the slow-firing, lumpy-looking tanks, he had to admit that the design was perfect for the work at hand, and in combination with an identical unit stationed on First Hill, the monster at his elbow was certain to make short work of the oncoming convoy.