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ERIC NYLUND
15
Fred snorted in disgust. Kelly thought he'd been thinking on
his feet—but all he'd done was land on his ass. He didn't want to
talk about it—not now. "Any other good news?" he said.
"Plenty," she replied. "Our gear—munitions boxes, bags of
extra weapons—they're scattered across what's passing for our
LZ. Only a few of us have assault rifles, maybe five in total."
Fred instinctively reached for his MA5B and discovered that the
anchoring clips on his armor had been sheared away in the impact.
No grenades on his belt, either. His drop bag was gone, too.
He shrugged. "We'll improvise," he said.
Kelly picked up a rock and hefted it.
Fred resisted the urge to lower his head and catch his breath.
There was nothing he wanted to do more right now than sit down
and just rest and think. There had to be a way to get his Spartans
out of here in one piece. It was like a training exercise—all he
needed to do was figure out how best to accomplish their mis-
sion with no more foul-ups.
There was no time, though. They'd been sent to protect those
generators, and the Covenant sure as hell weren't sitting around
waiting for them to make the first move. The columns of smoke
that marked where Reach HighCom once stood testified to that.
"Assemble the team," Fred told her. "Formation Beta. We're
heading toward the generators on foot. Pack out our wounded
and dead. Send those with weapons ahead as scouts. Maybe our
luck will change."
Kelly barked over the SQUADCOM: "Move, Spartans. For-
mation Beta to the NAV point."
Fred initiated a diagnostic on his armor. The hydrostatic sub-
system had blown a seal, and pressure was at minimal functional
levels. He could move, but he'd have to replace that seal before
he'd be able to sprint or dodge plasma fire.
He fell in behind Kelly and saw his Spartans on the periphery
of his tactical friend-or-foe monitor. He couldn't actually see
any of them because they were spread out and darted from tree to
tree to avoid any Covenant surprises. They all moved silently
through the forest: light and shadow and an occasional muted
flash of luminous green armor, then gone again.
"Red-One this is Red-Twelve. Single enemy contact ...
neutralized."