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174
HALO: FIRST STRIKE
Locklear's trigger finger twitched, and beads of sweat dotted his
forehead.
"Cortana has this stuff wired tight," Sergeant Johnson whis-
pered. "No worries."
"I got plenty of worries here," Locklear muttered. "Man, I'd
rather be in a HEV pod on fire and out of control than up here.
We're sitting ducks."
"Quiet," Lieutenant Haverson hissed at Locklear. "Let the
lady concentrate."
Polaski kept one eye on the communications screen and one
eye on the external displays as the twin cruisers grew larger, fill-
ing the holographic space before her. Both her hands hovered
over the flight yoke, not touching it, but twitching in anticipation.
Three Seraph fighters burned out of their orbits and took a
closer pass.
"Is that an attack vector?" Lieutenant Haverson asked.
"I don't think so," Polaski said. "But it's hard to tell with those
things."
Locklear inhaled deeply, and the Chief noticed that he didn't
exhale. He set his hand on the man's shoulder and pulled him
aside. "Relax, Marine," he whispered. "That's an order,"
Locklear exhaled and ran a hand over his smoothly shaven
head. "Right ... right, Chief." With effort, the Marine forced
himself to calm down.
A red light flashed on the control panel. "Collision warning,"
Polaski said with the practiced nonchalance all Navy pilots had
in the face of imminent death. She reached for the yoke.
"Hold your course," the Lieutenant ordered.
"Yes, sir," she said, and released the controls. "Fighters one
hundred meters and closing."
"Hold your course," Lieutenant Haverson repeated. "They're
just taking a closer look," he whispered to himself, "and there's
nothing to see. Nothing to see at all."
When the Seraph fighters were only ten meters away, they
tumbled to either side of the dropship. Their engine pods flared
blue and they looped overhead ... then moved to rejoin the
cruisers.
The larger ships passed directly overhead and blotted out the
sun. In the darkness, the cockpit lights automatically adjusted