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188
HALO: FIRST STRIKE
Grace sprang back, just in time. The fallen fuel rod gun sparked,
sputtered, and then blew with the force of a frag grenade. Black-
ened, twisted tile rained down on them.
Locklear jogged up and fired at the Grants fleeing the excava-
tion. They weren't armed. Locklear mowed them down without
remorse.
From a pile of shattered stone, a pair of battered Elites struggled
to rise. Blood and bone exploded outward from their chests, and
they spun around toward the source of this force—boulders pushed
away from the blocked passage. Three Spartans emerged from
their cover, assault rifles smoking from their recent discharge.
John knew instantly the three were Kelly, Fred, and Will.
He ran forward to meet them.
Fred lowered his weapon. "Anton ... Grace ... John?" he
said disbelievingly.
The Master Chief opened a COM channel to his Spartans.
"It's me. I wish I had time to explain everything. I will—later.
Let's get the hell out of here first."
Kelly quickly reached out and swiped her two fingers across
John's faceplate.
He wanted to return the smile, but at that moment Admiral
Whitcomb, running full force, skidded to a stop next to the Spar-
tans. He was followed in short order by Haverson, Locklear, and
Johnson, who kept looking over his shoulder to scan the huge
empty room around them.
"Is this everyone?" Admiral Whitcomb asked.
"No, sir," Fred replied. "There's one more." He turned and ex-
tended his hand back into the partially collapsed tunnel. "Ma'am?
It's safe to come out."
For a heartbeat the Master Chief forgot that he was in the
heart of an enemy's camp; he forgot about the war, that Reach
had fallen, and everything else he had gone through in the last
few days. He had never thought he would see her again.
Dr. Halsey emerged from the partially caved-in tunnel. She
brushed dust from the hem of her skirt and lab coat with one
slender hand.
"Admiral Whitcomb," she said, "a pleasure to see you again.
My thanks for the rescue. It was far timelier than you could