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ERIC NYLUND
187
Ahead there were silhouetted Grunts and Jackals in the dust
clouds, screaming and shooting at the air, each other, anything
that moved.
"Keep moving," the Master Chief said. "Move while they
don't know what's hit them."
Anton paused and knelt next to a set of tracks dug into the
tiled floor. "Kelly's been this way," he reported over the COM.
The Master Chief clicked on Red Team's COM frequency.
"Kelly? Fred? Joshua? Spartans, acknowledge this signal."
Only static answered him.
A hundred meters from the stunned Covenant work crew, a
stray plasma bolt fired from the hazy, rubble-strewn region deto-
nated a few meters from the Master Chief. He sent a spray of au-
tomatic fire across the area, hoping to force the enemy to keep
their heads down.
Grace halted and fired the fuel rod gun again. A second glow-
ing burst of radioactive energy flashed overhead and detonated
along the far wall.
In the intense light, the Master Chief saw that a dozen Jackals
had braced themselves along the wall and overlapped their en-
ergy shields to create a phalanx. Behind them five Elites readied
plasma rifles.
"Down," he shouted, and dived to one side.
Grace hit the floor and rolled away. Plasma bolts sizzled over
their heads, and the Master Chief's shields drained as a shot hit
too close. The barrage turned several of the blue tiles around him
into a crater of blackened glass.
"Grenades—up and over those shields, Spartans," Admiral
Whitcomb bellowed.
The Master Chief and Anton primed plasma grenades and
hurled them from their prone positions. They hit the far wall and
dropped into the cluster of Elites and Jackals—behind their
shields. There was a pair of blue flashes, and the enemy forma-
tion blew apart. Jackals scattered and ran.
Grace fired the fuel rod gun, hit the broken phalanx formation,
and blew them literally to bits. She dropped the weapon. "Rad
counter at max dosage," she called out. "This thing's too hot to
use anymore."
"Back away!" the Chief ordered. "Those things have a fail-safe!"