“We can take care of it,” the Master Chief replied.

Captain Keyes’ eyes widened and he leaned forward in his command chair. “How exactly, Master Chief?”

“With all due respect, sir, Spartans are trained to handle difficult missions. I’ll split my squad. Three will board the space dock and make sure that NAV data does not fall into the Covenant’s hands. The remainder of the Spartans will go groundside and repel the invasion forces.”

Captain Keyes considered this. “No, Master Chief, it’s too risky. We’ve got to make sure the Covenant doesn’t get that NAV data. We’ll use a nuclear mine, set it close to the docking ring, and detonate it.”

“Sir, the EMP will burn out the superconductive coils of the orbital guns. And if you use the Pillar of Autumn’s conventional weapons, the NAV database may still survive. If the Covenant search the wreckage—they may obtain the data.”

“True,” Keyes said, and tapped his pipe thoughtfully on his chin. “Very well, Master Chief. We’ll go with your suggestion. I’ll plot a course over the docking station. Ready your Spartans and prep two dropships. We’ll launch you—” he consulted with Cortana “—in five minutes.”

“Aye, Captain. We’ll be ready.”

“Good luck,” Captain Keyes said, and snapped off the view screen.

Luck. The Master Chief always had been lucky. He’d need luck more than ever this time.

He turned to face the Spartans... his Spartans. They stood at attention.

Kelly stepped forward. “Master Chief sir, permission to lead the space op, sir.”

“Denied,” he said. “I’ll be leading that one.”

He appreciated her gesture. The space operation would be ten times more dangerous than the ground op.

The Covenant would outnumber them ten to one—or more—but the Spartans were used to taking the fight against numerically superior enemies. They had always won on the ground.

The extraction of the Circumference database, however, would be in vacuum and zero gravity—and they might have to fight their way past a Covenant warship to reach the objective. Not exactly ideal conditions.

“Linda and James,” he said. “You’re with me. Fred, you’re Red Team Leader. You’ll have tactical command of the ground operation.”

“Sir!” Fred shouted. “Yes, sir.”

“Now make ready,” he said. “We don’t have much time left.”

The Master Chief regretted his unfortunate choice of words.

The Spartans stood a moment. Kelly called out, “Attention!” They snapped to and gave the Master Chief a crisp salute.

He stood straighter and returned their salute. He was intensely proud of them all.

The Spartans scattered and gathered their gear, racing for the dropship bay.

The Master Chief watched them go.

This was the mission the Spartans had been tempered for in mission after mission. It would be their finest moment... but he knew that it might also be their last moment.

Chief Mendez had said that a leader would be required to spend the lives of those under his command. The Master Chief knew he would lose comrades today—but would their deaths serve a necessary purpose... or would they be wasted?

Either way, they were ready.

John tapped the thrusters and rotated the Pelican dropship 180 degrees. He pushed the engines to full power to brake their forward momentum. The Pillar of Autumn had dropped them while she had been cruising at one-third full speed.

They’d need every millimeter of the ten thousand kilometers between them and the docking station to slow down.

The Master Chief had taken the Spartan’s modified Pelican, rigged with explosives. The station would be locked down—every airlock sealed. They’d have to blast their way in.

He glanced aft. Linda checked one of the three sniper rifle variants she had brought. James inspected his thruster pack.

He had picked Linda because no other single Spartan was as efficient at long-range combat. And that’s what the Master Chief wanted: long-range combat. If it came to hand-to-hand combat in zero gee with hordes of Covenant troopers... even his luck wouldn’t hold out too long.

He had picked James because James had never quit. Even when his hand had been burned off, he had shrugged off the shock—at least for a while—and helped them dispatch the Covenant behemoths on Sigma Octanus IV. The Master Chief would need that kind of determination on this mission.

He took a long look out the front of the Pelican. Their sister dropship initiated a burn and hurtled toward Reach.

Kelly, Fred, Joshua... all of them. Part of him longed to join them in the ground action.

The radar panel blinked a proximity warning; the Pelican was one thousand kilometers from the docking ring.

The Master Chief tapped the thrusters to align the dropship. He squelched the proximity alert.

The alert immediately re-sounded. Strange. He reached for the squelch again—then stopped as he saw the space around the Pelican change. Motes of green light appeared, pinpoints at first, which swelled like bruises on velvet black space. The green smears lengthened, compressed, and distorted the stars.

—a Slipstream entry point.

The Master Chief cut the Pelican’s engines, slowing them for impact.

A Covenant frigate materialized a kilometer from the dropship’s nose. Its prow filled their view screen.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

0616 Hours, August 30, 2552 (Military Calendar)

UNSC Pelican dropship, Epsilon Eridani System near Reach Station Gamma

“Brace for maneuvering!” the Master Chief barked.

The Spartans dove for safety harnesses and strapped in. “All secure!” Kelly shouted.

The Master Chief killed the Pelican’s forward thrusters and triggered a short, sudden reverse burn. The Spartans were brutally slammed forward into their harnesses as the Pelican’s acceleration bled away. The Master Chief quickly shut down the engines.

The tiny Pelican faced the Covenant frigate. At a kilometer’s distance, the alien ship’s launch bay and pulse laser turrets looked close enough to touch on the view screen; enough firepower to vaporize the Spartans in the blink of an eye.

The Master Chief’s first instinct was to fire their HE Anvil-II missiles and autocannons—but he checked his hand as he reached for the triggers.

That would only attract their attention... which was the last thing he wanted. For the moment, the alien vessel ignored them—probably because the Master Chief had shut down the Pelican’s engines. But the ship also seemed dead in space: no lights, no single ships launched, and no plasma weapons charging.

The dropship continued toward the docking station, their momentum putting distance between them and the frigate.

Space around the Covenant ship boiled and pulled apart—and two more alien ships appeared.

They, too, ignored the dropship. Was it too small to bother with? The Master Chief didn’t care. His luck, it seemed, was holding.

He checked the radar—thirty kilometers to the docking ring. He ignited the engines to slow them down. He had to or they would crash into the station.

Twenty kilometers.

Rumbling shook the dropship. They slowed—but it wasn’t going to be enough.

Ten kilometers.

“Hang on,” he told Linda and James.

The sudden impact whiplashed the Master Chief back and forth in his seat. The straps holding him snapped.

He blinked... saw only blackness. His vision cleared and he noted that his shield bar was dead. It slowly began to fill again. Every display and monitor in the cockpit had shattered.

The Master Chief shook off the disorientation and pulled himself aft.

The interior of the dropship was a mess. Everything tied down had come loose. Ammunition boxes had broken open in the crash landing and loose carriages filled the air. Coolant leaked, spraying blobs of black fluid. In zero gravity, everything looked like the inside of a shaken snowglobe.