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218
HALO: FIRST STRIKE
Worry creased Admiral Whitcomb's features. "That leaves
just one option. Cortana, give me flank speed and heat up every
weapon we have. We're going to run right over these Covenant
ships. Tangled space or not, we're going to blast them right back
to normal space from point-blank range."
"Yes, Admiral," Cortana said. "Engines answering flank speed."
A dull thump echoed from the aft section.
"Stand by," Cortana said. "There's a problem with the primary
engines—a power drop occurred just as I engaged."
On the bridge displays the external cameras turned and focused
on the aft hull of Ascendant Justice. A snakelike plasma conduit
came into focus. Cortana adjusted the image, and a
three-meter-wide hole in the conduit snapped into view.
Streamers of blue-white gas vented from the breach.
"That's our main drive conduit," Cortana said. "It's taken a hit.
I'm shutting down engines to conserve power."
The Master Chief squinted. "That was no plasma hit," he mut-
tered. "It was too precise and too inconvenient—this had to be
sabotage."
Admiral Whitcomb scowled. "Chief, take your team and pre-
pare for a zero-gee repair of the plasma conduit."
"Yes, sir."
Polaski stepped forward. "I'll go too, sir," she said. Locklear
grasped her by the arm and tried to pull her back, but she
shrugged his hand off. "I can pilot the dropship—get the Spartan
team in and out faster."
The Admiral narrowed his eyes, assessing the young woman.
"Very well, Warrant Officer." He added so softly that the Chief
almost missed it: "Too many damned heroes in this war."
Polaski turned to Locklear, handed him back his bandanna,
and whispered, "Hang on to that for me, Corporal. I'll pick it up
when I get back."
Locklear's hand clenched, then relaxed. He took the token,
nodded, and looked away. "I'll be here," he said and tied it
around his arm.
"Chief," Admiral Whitcomb said. "Make sure you come back
alive. That's an order, son."