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ERIC NYLUND
5
prep in five minutes. Joshua: Liaise with Cortana and get me
current intel on the drop area—I don't care if it's just weather
satellite imagery, but I want pictures, and I want them ninety
seconds ago."
Red Team jumped into action.
The pre-mission jitters were gone, replaced with a cold calm.
There was a job to do, and Fred was eager to get to work.
Flight Officer Mitchell flinched as a stray energy burst streaked
into the landing bay and vaporized a meter-wide section of bulk-
head. Red-hot, molten metal splattered the Pelican dropship's
viewport.
Screw this, he thought, and hit the Pelican's thrusters. The
gunmetal-green transport balanced for a moment on a column of
blue-white fire, then hurtled out of the Pillar of Autumn's launch
bay and into space. Five seconds later all hell broke loose.
Incoming energy bursts from the lead Covenant vessels cut
across their vector and slammed into a COMSat. The communi-
cations satellite broke apart, disintegrating into glittering shards.
"Better hang on," Mitchell announced to his passengers in the
dropship's troop bay. "Company's coming."
A swarm of Seraphs—the Covenant's scarablike attack
fighters—fell into tight formation and arced through space on an
intercept course for the dropship.
The Pelican's engines flared and the bulky ship plummeted
toward the surface of Reach. The alien fighters accelerated and
plasma bursts flickered from their gunports.
An energy bolt slashed past on the port side, narrowly missing
the Pelican's cockpit.
Mitchell's voice crackled across the COM system:
"Bravo-One to Knife Two-Six: I could use a little help here."
He rolled the Pelican to port to avoid a massive, twisted hunk
of wreckage from a patrol cutter that had strayed too close to the
oncoming assault wave. Beneath the blackened plasma scorches,
he could just make out the UNSC insigne. Mitchell scowled.
This was getting worse by the second. "Bravo-One to Knife
Two-Six, where the hell are you?" he yelled.
A quartet of wedge-shaped, angular fighters slotted into cover-
ing position on Mitchell's scopes—Longswords, heavy fighters.