ERIC NYLUND
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the center of its elongated forehead. Purple blood blossomed
across the wall.
The remaining Elites returned fire, and Kelly bounded for-
ward, plasma flaring at the edge of her shield. She ducked into
the side passage.
The instant Kelly was out of the line of fire, Fred shouldered
his rifle and squeezed the trigger. A three-round burst caught the
next Elite, and its shield sparkled and failed. It twisted away,
clutching at the single round that had penetrated its chest.
Vinh fired two single shots, but the Elite's shield held. In uni-
son, Vinh and Fred fired another set of three-round bursts. The
Elite dropped to the steel floor in a twisted heap.
The last Elite had vanished. No return fire. No sensor contact.
The Spartans held position for a moment longer, then re-
grouped. With hand signals, each member of the team reported
no contact.
Fred spied tracks in the white dust scattered on the floor.
The Elite had bugged out, and it was most likely gathering
reinforcements.
That wasn't what Covenant Elites usually did. Their pride de-
manded that they fight, and die fighting, if need be. They would
hurl themselves headlong into battle, no matter the odds, and
die by the hundreds if necessary. They never ran away. Nothing
about this engagement had been "usual."
Fred glanced at Will and Dr. Halsey. Will gave him a
thumbs-up, indicating that the doctor hadn't been wounded in
the exchange.
After the exchange of gunfire, there was no need for secrecy.
"One of them got away," Fred told them. "We need to move, too...
and forget quiet."
The Spartans ran down the corridor. They heard and felt an-
other explosion directly over their heads.
Kelly skidded to a halt in front of the locked elevator doors.
She gripped one of the panels; Fred and Vinh gripped the seam
of the other side, and the Spartans pried them apart as if the
five-centimeter steel alloy were no tougher than the rind of an
orange.
Kelly grabbed the elevator cables and slid down. Vinh fol-
lowed, then Fred plummeted more than five hundred meters into