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62
HALO: FIRST STRIKE
"Now that's what I'm talkin' about," Johnson crowed. "An
honest-to-God turkey shoot."
Ten meters down the passage a dozen more Elites rounded a
corner.
"Uh-oh," Locklear muttered.
"Sergeant," the Chief barked. "Door control!" John moved to
Polaski's position in two quick strides, grabbed her by her collar,
and dragged her out of the line of fire. Plasma bolts singed the air
where she'd been.
He dropped her, primed a grenade, and tossed it toward the
rushing Elites.
The Sergeant fired his assault rife at the door controls; they
exploded in a shower of sparks, and the doors slammed shut.
A dull thump echoed behind the thick metal, then an eerie si-
lence descended on the bay. Polaski struggled to her feet and fed
a fresh clip into her pistol. Her hands shook.
"Cortana," the Chief said. "We need an alternate route to the
bridge."
A blue arrow flashed on his heads-up display. The Chief
turned and spotted a hatch to his right. He pointed to the hatch
and signaled his team to move, then ran to the hatch and touched
the control panel.
The small door slid open to reveal a narrow corridor beyond,
snaking into the darkness.
He didn't like it. The corridor was too dark and too narrow—a
perfect place for an ambush. He briefly considered heading back
to the primary bay door, but abandoned that idea. Smoke and
sparks poured from the door seams as the Covenant forces on the
other side tried to burn their way through.
The Chief clicked on his low-light vision filters, and the dark-
ness washed away into a grainy flood of fluorescent green. No
contacts.
He paused to let his shields recharge, then dropped into a low
crouch. He brought his rifle to bear and crept into die corridor.
The interior of the passage narrowed, and its smooth purple
surface darkened. The Chief had to turn sideways to pass through.
"This looks like a service corridor for their Engineers," Cor-
tana said. "Their Elite warriors will have a tough time following
us."