Halo: First Strike

by Eric S. Nylund

  The ships surrounding the Gettysburg turned and maneuvered back toward the rotating asteroid. "Join me for dinner and we can discuss what you need. You have my word that no one will be harmed." Admiral Whitcomb chuckled. "I have no doubt about that,

  Mister Jiles." He turned to Cortana. "If we're not back in thirty minutes, blast them all to hell."

  The Master Chief linked mission telemetry with Cortana as Jiles's men met them in the landing bay—six men dressed in black coveralls with old MA3 rifles slung over their shoulders. They hesitated, then took tentative steps toward the Covenant dropship. The Chief didn't blame them—he'd have been careful, too, if he were moving toward an armed enemy vessel. One fear-induced pull of the trigger from any one of them, however, and this greeting would turn into a bloody firefight.

  He closed off his external speakers and asked, "Cortana: tactical analysis."

  Cortana replied: "The asteroid is a typical ferric oxide composite. It's reinforced with a layer of Titanium-A armor. The armor is well camouflaged, but I spotted it with the Gettysburg's deep radar. They have a few sections with ablative undercoats as well. Radar's bouncing off those sections—so would Covenant sensors. Impressive."

  Governor Jiles strolled across the deck, flipped his black fur cap over one shoulder, and shook Admiral Whitcomb's hand. Jiles nodded to Haverson. His smile vanished, however, when he looked at the Master Chief and Fred in their MJOLNIR armor. Jiles recovered his grin and bowed low to Dr. Halsey.

  "There are half a dozen guards armed with old MA-3 rifles and concealed plasma pistols," Cortana whispered. "I'm also picking up a fireteam often in the side passages, watching."

  "I saw them," the Chief muttered. "They're overwatch and backup, just in case. No problem." "This way, please," Jiles said, and with a flourish he led them through a narrow corridor.

  The Chief took one last look at the docking bay. It seemed smaller than he remembered it. Twenty years ago he and his team had blown off the external doors, stolen a Pelican, escaped, and left a dozen men dead on the deck.

  His team had accomplished that mission without MJOLNIR armor. It hadn't been developed yet—so there was no way anyone here could have known that John and Fred were part of the team that had extracted the last "governor" of the base, the traitor Colonel Watts. Yet Jiles's guards glared at John as if they knew everything.

  As the Master Chief stepped into the corridor, Cortana informed him: "This passage is from a UNSC cargo vessel, ripped out and reinforced with a bulkhead every ten meters. Airtight and tough. This place can take a lot of damage before buckling."

  "Good place for an ambush, too," the Master Chief said, and kept one eye on his motion tracker. They were being followed. Three contacts behind them, and three ahead, keeping pace.

  The Master Chief had an urge to step in front of the Admiral and Dr. Halsey and clear the passage with a burst of fire. But this situation required diplomacy, something John was ill suited for. He wished the Admiral had taken John's suggestion to bring more Spartans with him. Or at least to have two of them infiltrate while the Admiral and this Jiles spoke.

  They were led to a circular room. Half the far wall retracted, revealing thick red velvet curtains, which also slowly pulled away and exposed the half-meter-thick windows that overlooked the asteroid field. Beyond was a gentle ballet of rocks tumbling, rotating, and bouncing off one another in slow motion.

  Men carried in a long table, threw a white silk cloth over it, and smoothed it down. Then a succession of women carried in silver trays heavy with fruit, steaming meats, and chocolates, and a dozen decanters sloshing with amber, ruby, and clear liquors.

  Padded chairs were brought in for them all. "Please." Jiles motioned toward Dr. Halsey and he pulled out a chair for her. "Relax and sit down."

  The Master Chief took up a position by the door where he had a clear view of the entire room. Fred made sure the corridor was empty and then sealed the door.

  The Chief checked behind the curtains for hidden men, surveillance devices, or false passages.

  "Cortana?" he whispered.

  "Looks clear," she said. "I'm not detecting anything. Walls are half a meter of Titanium-A." "We're clear," the Master Chief told the Admiral. Dr. Halsey finally sat in the proffered chair, smoothed her

  skirt, and Jiles gently slid the chair under her. He offered her a plate of plump strawberries, which she graciously declined. Haverson took one of the strawberries, however, and bit into it. "Delicious," he remarked.

  Jiles inclined his head. "Our hydroponics facility—"

  "With respect, Governor, there's no time for chitchat," Admiral Whitcomb said. "The clock's ticking. In more ways than you might realize."

  Jiles sighed and sat in a chair covered in gold leaf and black velvet. He threw his legs over one of the chair's arms and laced his hands behind his head. "You have my complete and full attention, Admiral."

  "Good," Whitcomb said, frowning at Jiles's disregard for the seriousness of their predicament.

  Admiral Whitcomb laid it out for him in short, easy-tounderstand sentences: the fall of Reach, the Covenant's search for an alien technology, the chase and battle in Slipspace, and the unclassifiable radiation that would lead the Covenant through Slipspace. . . to here.

  As he spoke, Governor Jiles set his feet onto the floor, and his relaxed position solidified. He leaned forward and set his elbows on the table. His congenial smile slowly tightened into a scowl.

  "Bloody Elisa!" he shouted, jumped to his feet, and swept a decanter off the table. The glass shattered and ruby-colored brandy spattered across the hardwood.

  John and Fred had Jiles instantly in their gunsights, but the Admiral held up his hand.

  " 'Bloody Elisa'?" the Chief asked Cortana.

  "The patron saint of vacuum," the AI replied. "She's popular among civilian pilots." "I'd guess," the Admiral told Jiles, "that we have less than a day before they find us." "And what," Jiles said slowly, controlling his anger, "do you suggest / do about it?"

  "That's the simple part of all this, Governor. You can help us, or you can try to kill me and my crew, and sell our ships for whatever the black market will bear. They should yield quite a profit... provided the Covenant let you live long enough to cash in."

  The Admiral grabbed a decanter, poured a glass of wine, took a sip, and nodded appreciatively. "Now, assuming you manage to outwit our ship's AI—which I very much doubt—and assuming further you somehow disable our ship's weapons before our AI blows your base to atoms—which I also doubt—then you'll have a Covenant fleet to contend with. And I don't think they're going to be sociable, sit down, drink your wine, and discuss this like gentlemen."

  Jiles placed his face into his hand and rubbed his temples.

  "Maybe you're thinking," the Admiral said, "that you've kept this operation of yours hidden this long. From the UNSC. From the Covenant. Why should this be any different? Well, we found you easily enough. I don't think the Covenant will blink at overturning every rock in this asteroid belt to find you."

  Governor Jiles picked up a new bottle and filled a glass to the brim. He downed the drink in one gulp. "And the other option?" he asked coldly. "I help you? And together we fight the Covenant? If they come in the force you claim, what difference will it make?"

  "If you help us," the Admiral said, "get my ship repaired so we can make the jump to Earth, I'll evacuate all your people. I promise you and your crew amnesty."

  Jiles laughed. His cordial smile returned, and he asked, "Do you have any proof of any of this? That the mighty Reach is gone? That you have a new alien technology? Or that the Covenant are on their way here?"

  "Chief!" Cortana cried in alarm. On his helmet's heads-up display, a schematic of the Eridanus system appeared. A NAV marker flashed near the third planet. It expanded into the familiar curved radar silhouette of a Covenant cruiser.

  "We have company," the Master Chief said. He strode to the window and pointed. "There." The blue glow of Covenant engines flared as th
e ship came about and accelerated toward the asteroid belt. "There's your proof, Governor," Admiral Whitcomb growled.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  2000 hours, September 12,2552 (revised date, Military Calendar)Aboard hybrid vessel Gettysburg-Ascendant Justice, station-keeping in Eridanus system.

  Admiral Whitcomb, the Master Chief, Fred, and Lieutenant Haverson bounded off the elevator and onto the bridge of the Gettysburg.

  Cortana's image nickered on the holographic pad near the star map. "Covenant cruiser is only two hundred thousand kilometers away," she reported. "Closing fast on an intercept course."

  The Admiral barked orders: "Fred, take the Engineering station, Haverson on NAV, and Chief, you're on Weapons Station One; get it up and running and see if there are any systems we overlooked. Lieutenant, move us away from the enemy on course one-eight-zero by two-seven-zero."

  "One-eight-zero by two-seven-zero, aye," Haverson replied. He strapped himself into the NAV station, and his fingers danced over the controls. "Coming about, Admiral."

  Gettysburg-Ascendant Justice turned and moved deeper into the asteroid field.

  The Master Chief stepped up to Weapons Station One. He was cross-trained on the weapons ops system of every class of UNSC warship, but he'd never actually fired any shipborne weapon before. The MAC gun on this frigate was one of the largest weapons in the human arsenal. He wished they had rounds for it—he would've given anything to launch one of the six-hundred-ton depleted uranium projectiles at that Covenant cruiser. He carefully tapped commands on the keyboard, and the darkened screen came to life. The Chief scrutinized the Gettysburg's weapons inventory.

  Governor Jiles appeared on the number three forward display, his face placid except his lips, which pressed together so tightly that they were only a thin white line of concentration.

  "Governor," the Admiral said. His voice was smooth and resonated with the absolute authority of command. "I'll maneuver the Gettysburg and take a shot at extreme range with our plasma turret. That will blow down that cruiser's shields. I want you to coordinate with our AI and fire one of your nukes while their shields are down—blast them to bits."

  "A brilliant tactic," Jiles said, and his lips parted in a mocking smile. "Except for one problem. We have no nuclear weapons. The ones you detected in the asteroid field were only neutron radiation emitters." He shrugged. "We bluffed."

  Admiral Whitcomb cursed quietly. "Very smart, Jiles."

  "You'll just have to use the seven plasma turrets on your ship, Admiral," Governor Jiles remarked. "That should be more than enough to—"

  The Admiral chuckled, and he smiled in the same mocking fashion as Jiles. "We bluffed, too. We only have one turret... and it's not working so well."

  "It appears we have both overestimated the other," Jiles said. "Under different circumstances this might be amusing." "Indeed." Whitcomb addressed Cortana. "Try and hail that Covenant cruiser. Maybe we can bluff them, too."

  "They're responding," Cortana replied. "Religious rhetoric aside, they're demanding that we stand down and hand over the artifact or they will open fire."

  "Give them our answer," Admiral Whitcomb said. "Fire when ready, Cortana." The turret on Ascendant Justice warmed, and plasma collected and focused into a thin ruby line that lanced forward—

  —and unraveled into a wide spiral that coursed over the bow of the Gettysburg. The superheated gases boiled away patches of remaining Titanium-A armor and revealed the ship's skeletal superstructure.

  "What the hell happened?" the Admiral shouted.

  "Analyzing now," Cortana replied. "Plasma turret offline. Stand by, sir." "I can move my fleet to engage the enemy," Jiles said uncertainly.

  Admiral Whitcomb surveyed the forward screens: Jiles, the approaching Covenant cruiser, and the asteroid field full of rocks floating on invisible currents. He narrowed his eyes, then said: "They'd blast you out of space before you could sneeze, Governor. And you don't have a weapon that'll get through their shields. No—I'll draw them off. Evac your people."

  "Understood, Admiral." One of Jiles's eyebrows gracefully arched, and he bowed. "Thank you."

  "Fred, move us at best speed. Haverson, come to course zero-nine-zero. Get us closer to that moon-sized chuck of stone, twenty thousand kilometers to port."

  "Flank speed," Fred said. "Aye, sir."

  "Course change, aye," Haverson replied.

  The Gettysburg-Ascendant Justice glided toward the large rock, and the Covenant cruiser rapidly closed on them. The enemy ship vanished on the displays as they rounded to the dark side of the asteroid.

  "New course. Come about to one-eight-zero," the Admiral ordered. "Full emergency power to the engines and answer all stop."

  Thrasters spun the ship around, and vibrations rumbled through the weakened hull as it slowed and came to a stop, hidden behind the rock.

  "Answering all stop," Fred announced.

  "Sir, we are dead in space," Lieutenant Haverson said and nervously ran his fingers through his slicked-back red hair. "Traditional tactics advocate speed and maneuverability in ship-toship combat."

  "Not in this asteroid field," Admiral Whitcomb replied. "But you make a good point about staying maneuverable. Align our nose toward the center of mass of the planetoid, and back us up, one half reverse. Keep us out of the enemy's gunsights as long as you can."

  "Firing ministers. Answering one half reverse," Fred said.

  HALO: FIRST STRIKE

  The ship slowly angled toward the center of the large asteroid and backed away. "Cortana?" the Admiral asked. "Do we have a weapons turret or not?" "Yes, sir," Cortana said, "but the turret's magnetic coils that shape and aim the plasma charge have overloaded." The Admiral inhaled and sighed explosively. "Master Chief, you got anything on Weapons Station One?"

  "Archer missile pods depleted," the Master Chief answered. He scanned the display, hoping he had missed something. "No rounds for the MAC gun. All Shiva nuclear missiles fired as well, sir. The only things left in the tubes are three Clarion spy drones."

  "No plasma and no missiles," Admiral Whitcomb said. "We might as well open an air lock and throw rocks at 'em."

  Throw rocks? The Master Chief wondered if they could fashion a slug to shoot from the MAC cannon. Let its magnetic coils propel the mass to supersonic velocities and—

  Magnetic coils?

  "Sir," the Master Chief said. "We may have a way to fire the plasma turret after all. The Gettysburg's MAC gun has seventeen superconducting coils. Cortana might be able to use them to shape and aim the plasma."

  "Yes," the Admiral said, nodding.

  "Maybe," Cortana amended and stared off into space, thinking. "Calculating field strength drop-off now." The mathematic symbols scrolling across her body increased threefold. She frowned. "This would be easier if the Gettysburg was oriented bottom to Ascendant Justice's top. I'll have to guess at the interference from the intervening hulls, but it still might work. Chief—power it up. I'll need to recalibrate the pulse generation to match the plasma output."

  "MAC gun magnetic fields coming online," the Master Chief said as he tapped in commands. "Rerouting power from Ascendant Justice's reactor."

  "We won't have enough power to move fast if we have to," Fred remarked, watching the energy fed to the Gettysburg's engines drop to nothing.

  "That's okay." The Admiral absentmindedly tugged at the end of his mustache. "We wouldn't be able to outrun that Covenant cruiser even if we had full power. Our only chance is to take them out before they take us out. Launch those Clarion spy drones, Chief. Target the region abeam that planetoid—so we can see around the corner."

  The Master Chief kept one eye on the fluctuating magnetic field strengths of the superconducting coils as he programmed a course for the spy drones. Set to either side of the large asteroid, they'd effectively give them another set of eyes to see past the obstructing rock.

  "Drones away," the Chief said and launched them; their feathery propellant trails vanished into the distanc
e.

  "Cortana," Admiral Whitcomb said, "slave your targeting system to the feed from those drones. I want a clean shot fired before the cruiser crosses that rock's shadow and shoots at us."

  "Working," she replied. "Getting magnetic field variations from the Ascendant Justice-to-Gettysburg energy transfer." "Drones in position and images online," the Master Chief said and pushed the video feed to the forward screen.

  Doubled images of the Covenant cruiser appeared. Along its three bulbous sections, lateral plasma conduits glowed and every turret bristled with energy, ready to fire. Their laser batteries obliterated the large asteroids in their path, while the smaller ones simply bounced off their shields. The warship accelerated as it entered the gravitational influence of the planetoid between them.

  "They're going to slingshot around," the Admiral said. "Cortana, give me your best targeting solution and fire at will!"

  Cortana narrowed her eyes and calculations flashed across her body. "Extrapolating their course and speed," she breathed. "I got them."

  On Weapons Station One the Master Chief saw the acceleration coils of the Gettysburg's MAC pulse—then redline with power. Magnetic field lines ballooned, overlapped, and distorted asymmetrically. Static washed across his MJOLNIR armor's shields, and every electrically conducting surface on the bridge sparked as the magnetic lines of force penetrated through the ship and toward the turret on Ascendant Justice.

  Their only working turret heated, and plasma gathered at its tip; streamers looped upon themselves like tiny solar flares, vibrated, intensified to orange and then blue-white.

  "Almost there," Cortana cried. "Hang on."

  The ball of squeezed plasma imploded. It instantly boiled away a thirty-meter section of armor and hull from Ascendant Justice; the plasma vanished for a split second—then a bolt of coiled energy corkscrewed toward the edge of the planetoid.

  The Covenant cruiser rounded the planetoid, targeted the Gettysburg, and fired.

  Cortana's single shot impacted on the nose of the enemy craft first. The cruiser's shield flashed solid silver for a moment and was gone. The supercompressed plasma tore into the hull of the warship—exploding the metal where it touched. The plasma forked and detonated outward as it chained through the vessel. Secondary explosions rippled through the alien ship's hull.