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110
HALO: FIRST STRIKE
"Hard landing," Fred ordered.
Kelly made an unhappy sound over the COM and snapped it
off.
They plummeted out of the sky, gliding with what little aero-
dynamics and power remained in their Banshees. Fred nosed his
craft over the steaming rocks of the dry riverbed. He picked a
path between boulders and jagged granite fangs, pointed toward
a ribbon of gravel.
There was just one problem: A pair of these rocks were slightly
darker than the others . .. and they moved.
The creatures were huge and heavily armored and moved with
slow, deliberate precision. Each held a massive metal plate like a
shield. Fred hit the COM and yelled, "Heads up! Covenant
Hunters dead ahead!" There was no time to evade the new threat.
The nearest Hunter wheeled to face them, and the array of sen-
sory pins along its back flared, anemone-like. The hulking crea-
ture raised its main weapon—a powerful fuel rod gun, mounted
on its arm—at Fred. The barrel pulsed green.
The Hunter fired.
Fred killed the power, and his Banshee dropped ten meters.
There was a flash as the orb of destructive energy split the air
where his flier had been a second before.
The Banshee hit the ground, skidding through fist-sized rocks.
The battered craft flipped and tossed him to the ground. The
Banshee rolled end over end and crashed into the Hunter.
The massive alien brought up its thick, metal shield and
shrugged off the wreckage as if it were cardboard. The fuel rod
gun began to charge again.
Fred winced and rolled to his feet, ignoring the new pain the
crash landing had caused. He needed a weapon. Pain would have
to wait.
The Hunter lumbered toward him, then dropped into a crouch
and charged ahead at terrifying speed.
There was a crackle of static on his COM frequency, and Fred
heard one word: "Duck!"
He threw himself onto the ground and rolled to the side.
Kelly's riderless flier soared over him and collided with the
Hunter at full speed. The Banshee exploded and showered the
area with glittering metal fragments.