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Halo Lighting System First Strike Games User Manual

Page 231

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ERIC NYLUND

227

targets before they started firing and filling the space between us

with ionizing plasma. Now? ..." Mathematical symbols raced

along her length, flashing blue and indigo. "Cross-indexing

similar mirrored images and extrapolating, I estimate there are

currently between three and five operational ships, sir."

Admiral Whitcomb gritted his teeth and concentrated. He had

to get this ship moving—take out one or two enemy craft. Maybe

the tangled plasma-filled space would cook the rest of them.

That was their best chance. Their only chance. He'd have to

trust the Master Chief to get that drive conduit fixed.

"Very well, Cortana," he said. "Heat the Gettysburg's reactor

to maximum power and prepare to flood the main-engine plasma

conduit. Charge all available weapons turret capacitors."

"Yes, sir. Standby."

He glanced at a screen that showed the Gettysburg sitting atop

them inverted. "Is the launch bay on the Gettysburg intact? Can

it hold an atmosphere?"

Cortana blinked. "Yes, sir. It has a slow leak of thirty-two kilo

pascals per—"

"Pressurize the bay."

"Acknowledged, Admiral. However," Cortana replied, "that

will leave our air reserves dangerously low."

The Admiral stared at the ships surrounding them—a plasma

bolt struck a distant cruiser head-on, and its nose buckled. Gouts

of flame flared along its lateral plasma lines. The ship looked

like a fish spit with a red-hot poker.

That could have been them.

"Hurry up, Chief," he whispered.

On the displays the Admiral spotted two ships. There was a

carrier far away; it looked undamaged. Closer, off the port bow,

was a cruiser that, aside from a hole punched through its aft sec-

tion, was also undamaged ... and only ten thousand kilometers

away. That was the priority target.

"Lay in a new course," the Admiral ordered. "Two-four-zero

by zero-three-five."

Lieutenant Haverson took an involuntary step closer to the

display, and his face contorted as he worked out the math in his

head. "That's. . . a collision course, sir."