1710 hours, September 22,2552 (Military Calendar) Aboard Longsword fighter,uncharted system, Halo debris field.

The Master Chief held on to the ship's frame with one hand so he wouldn't float away inzero gee. With the other hand he pressed the pistol deeper into Johnson's forehead.

The Sergeant's smile faded, but there was not a trace of fear in his dark eyes. He snorted alaugh. "I get it: You think I'm in.fected. Well, I'm not. This"—he patted his chest—"is onehun.dred percent grade-A Marine... and  nothin' else."The Chief eased his stance but didn't lower the gun. "Explain how that's possible.""The got us all right, those little mushroom-shaped infec.tious bastards," Johnson said."Theyyy ambushed me, Jenkins, and Keyes." He paused at the Captain's name, then shookhis head and went on. "They swarmed all over us. Jenkins and Keyes were taken... but Iguess I didn't taste too good.""The Flood doesn't 'taste' anything," Cortana interjected. "The Infection Forms rewrite avictim's cellular structure and convert him into a Combat Form, then later a Carrier Form—an incubator for more Infection Forms.  Based on what we've seen, they cer.tainly don'tjust decide to pass up a victim."The Sergeant shrugged. He fished into his pocket, found the remaining stub of a chewedcigar, and stuck it in the corner of his mouth. "Well, I've seen different. They 'passed meup' like I was undercooked spinach at a  turkey dinner.""Cortana," the Chief asked. "Is it possible?""It's possible? she carefully replied. "But it's also highly un48HALO: FIRST STRIKElikely." She paused for two heartbeats, and then added, "Accord.ing to the readings from the Sergeant's biomonitors, his story checks out. I can't be one hundred percent positive until he's been cleared in a medical  suite, but preliminary findings indi.cate that he isclean of any Flood parasitic infection. He's obvi.ously not a mindless, half-naked alien killing machine.""All right." The Chief clicked the pistol's safety to "on" then flipped the pistol around andhanded it back to the Sergeant, grip first. "But I'm having you checked inside and out thefirst chance we get. We can't risk letting  the Flood infection spread.""I hear you, Master Chief. Looking forward to those Navy nurses. Now—" The Sergeant pushed off the hull and drifted toward the hatch. "—let's get the rest of the crew on board." He hesitated by the cryotubes. "I see  you already picked up a few stragglers.""They'll have to wait," the Chief said. "It'll take half an hour to thaw them out withoutrisking hypothermic shock. We don't have that much time left before we reengage theCovenant.""Reengage," the Sergeant said, savoring the word. He smiled. "Good. For a second Ithought we were running away from a per.fectly good fight." The Sergeant opened thehatch to the Pelican.

The barrel of an MA5B assault rifle extended through the opening. The Sergeant reacheddown and pulled it up.

A Marine Corporal drifted though the hatch. The name stitched on his uniform readLOCKLEAR. He was tanned, shaved bald, and had a wild look in his clear blue eyes. He retrieved his gun from the Sergeant and swept  the interior with the point of his weapon."Clear!" he shouted back down into the Pelican.

"At ease, Corporal," the Master Chief said.

The Corporal's eyes finally locked onto the Chief. He shook his head in disbelief. "ASpartan," he muttered. "Figures. Outta the friggin' frying pan—"The Master Chief spotted the Marine's shoulder patch: the gold comet insigne of theOrbital drop Shock Troops. The ODST, more colorfully known as "Helljumpers," were notorious for their tenacity in a fight.

Locklear must have been one of Major Silva's boys, which ex.plained the young Marine'sgeneral hostility. Silva was ODST toERIC NYLUND 49the bone, and during the action on Halo had been decidedly negative about the SPARTAN-IIs in general... and the Chief in particular.

Another man gripped the edge of the hatch and pulled himself up. He had a plasma pistolstrapped to his side and wore a crisp black uniform. His red hair was neatly slicked back,and his eyes took in the Chief without  obvious surprise. He wore the black enameled bars of a First Lieutenant.

"Sir!" The Chief snapped off a crisp salute.

"Adjusting burn and angle," Cortana announced. The Long-sword and Pelican tiltedrelative to the moon, Basis, on the viewscreen. "That should give you a little more than one gee on the deck."The lieutenant settled to the floor and lazily returned the salute. "I'm Haverson," he said.He looked John over with inter.est. "You are the Master Chief, SPARTAN-117.""Yes, sir." The Chief was surprised. Most people, even experi.enced officers, had difficultydistinguishing one Spartan from another. How had this young officer so quickly identifiedhim?

The Chief saw the round insigne on the man's shoulder—the black and silver eagle wings over a trio of stars. Inscribed above the eagle wings were the Latin words SEMPER VIGILANS—Ever Vigilant.

Haverson was with the Office of Naval Intelligence.

"Good," Haverson said. He glanced quickly at Locklear and Johnson. "With you, Chief, we might have a chance." He reached into the hatch and pulled another person onto theLongsword.

This last person was a woman, and she wore the flight-suit of a pilot. Her dirty blond hairwas tucked into a cap. She saluted the Chief. "Petty Warrant Officer Polaski, requestingpermission to come aboard, Master Chief.""Granted," he said and returned her salute.

Stenciled onto her coveralls was a flaming fist over a red bull's-eye, the insignia of theTwenty-third Naval Air Squadron. Although the Chief had never met Polaski, she was from the same chalk as Captain Carol Rawley,  callsign "Foehammer." If Polaski was anything like Foehammer, she would be a skilled and fearless pilot.

50 HALO: FIRST STRIKE"So what's the story?" Locklear demanded. "We got some.thing to shoot here?""At ease, Marine," the Sergeant growergeant grow"led. Use that stuffing between your ears for something besides keeping your helmet on. Notice we're not floating? Feel those gee forces? This ship is in a slingshot orbit.  We're coming around the moon for another crackat the Covenant.""That's correct," the Chief said.

"Our first priority should be to escape," Haverson said and his thin brows knitted infrustration, "not to blindly engage the Covenant. We have valuable intelligence on theenemy, and on Halo. Our first priority should be to  reach UNSC-controlled space.""That was my intention, sir," the Chief replied. "But neither this Longsword nor your Pelican is equipped with Shaw-Fujikawa engines. Without a jump to Slipspace, it wouldtake years to return."Haverson sighed. "That does limit our options, doesn't it?" He turned his back to the Chiefand paced, deep in thought.

The Master Chief respected the chain of command, wnich meant that he had to obey Lieutenant Haverson. But, officer or not, the Spartan had never liked it when peopleturned their backs to him. And he certainly didn't  like the way Haverson as.sumed hewas in charge.

The Chief had already gotten his orders, and he intended to follow them—whether or notHaverson approved.

"Pardon me, sir," the Chief said. "I must point out that while you are the ranking officer, Iam on a classified mission of the highest priority. My orders come directly from HighCommand.""Meaning?""Meaning," John continued, "I have tactical command of this crew, these ships. . . and you.Sir."Haverson turned, his expression dark. The Lieutenant's mouth opened as if he were goingto say something. He closed his mouth and looked the Chief over. A faint smile flickeredover his thin lips. "Of course. I am well  aware of your mission, Chief. I'll do anything I can to assist."He knew about the Spartan's original mission to capture a Covenant Prophet? What was an ONI officer doing here anyway?

ERIC NYLUND 51"So what's the plan?" Locklear asked. "Slingshot orbit—then what? We just going to talkall day, Chief?""No," the Chief replied.

He glanced at Polaski and the Sergeant. He could count on her, and though he was suspicious of exactly how Sergeant John.son had avoided falling to the Flood, he was willing to give the man the benefit of the doubt.  Haverson? He wouldn't trust him, but theman knew what was at stake, and he wouldn't interfere. Probably. Locklear was another story, though.

The ODST was coiled and ready to pounce ... or come apart like an antipersonnel mine.Some men broke under pressure and wouldn't fight. Some snapped and disregarded theirown and their team's safety for blind  revenge. Add that to the Hell-jumper's fierce prideand one had a volatile mix. The Chief had to establish his authority over the man.

"Get onto the Pelican," the Chief told him. "We only have a few minutes while we're on thefar side of this moon. Grab any.thing we can use: extra weapons, ammunition, grenades.Keep linked up to my COM so you can  hear the briefing."Locklear stood there, glared into the Chief's faceplate, and tensed.

Sergeant Johnson opened his mouth, but the Chief made a subtle cutting gesture with hishand. The Sergeant kept whatever he had to say to himself.

The Master Chief took a step closer to Locklear. "Was my or.der unclear, Corporal?"Locklear swallowed. The blue fire in his eyes dulled and he looked away. "No." His bodyslumped and he shouldered his ri.fle, accepting, for now, the Master Chief's authority."I'm on it, Master Chief." He went to the hatch  and dropped into the Pelican.

To say this team was mismatched for a high-risk insertion op was an understatement.

"So how do we get a Shaw-Fujikawa drive?" Polaski asked.

"We don't," John replied. "But we go after the next best thing." He moved to the ops consol and tapped the display. The scan of the Covenant flagship appeared on theviewscreen. "This is our objective."52 HALO: FIRST STRIKEHaverson frowned. "Chief, if we approach that ship we'll be blown out of the sky before we can even think about engaging them.""Normally, yes," the Chief replied. "But we're going to rig the Pelican as a fireship—we load it with Moray mines and send it out ahead of us. We'll have to remote-pilot thePelican, but it can be accelerated past the point  where a crew would black out. It'll draw enemy fire, drop a few mines, and let us slip by."Polaski's expression hardened into a frown.

"There a problem, Warrant OO"fficer?

"No, Master Chief. I just hate to lose a good ship. That bird got us off Halo in one piece."He understood. Pilots got attached to their ships. They gave them names and humanpersonalities. The Chief, however, never fell into that trap; he had long ago learned thatany equipment was expendable. Except, maybe, Cortana.

"So we get close to the flagship," Haverson said and crossed his arms over his chest. "Arewe goi nose to nose with a ship with a thousand times our firepower? Or are youplanningngng an.other flyby?""Neither." The Chief pointed to the flagship's fighter launch bay. "That's our LZ."Polaski squinted at the comparatively tiny opening in the belly of the flagship. "That's ahell of a window to hit coming in this fast, but"—she bit her lower lip, calculating—"technically pos.sible in a Longsword.""They'll launch Seraph fighters to engage the Pelican and the Longsword," the Chief said,"and to do that, they'll have to drop that section of their shields. We get in, neutralize thecrew, and we have a ship with Slipspace capability.""Rock 'n' roll!" Locklear yelled over the COM. "Penetrate and annihilate!"Sergeant Johnson chewed on his cigar as he considered the plan.

"No one has ever captured a Covenant ship," Haverson whis.pered. "The few times we'vehad one of them beaten and in a po.sition to surrender, they've self-destructed.""There's no choice," the Chief said. He looked over Polaski,ERIC NYLUND 53Johnson, and finally Haverson. "Unless anyone has a better plan?"They were silent.

"Anything to add, Cortana?" he asked.

"Our exit orbit burn leaves us low on fuel and traveling at high velocity on an interceptcourse with the flagship. There are over.lapping fields of enemy fire on our approachvector. We have to decelerate and dodge simultaneously. That will be tricky.""Polaski will be on that." The Chief turned to her.

"Pilot a Longsword?" Polaski slowly nodded, and there was a gleam in her green eyes thathadn't been there a second ago. "It's been a while, but yes, Master Chief. I am one hundredand ten percent on it." She moved to the pilot's seat and strapped her.self in.

"With all due respect to Miss Po'"laskis skill,Cortana said, "allow me to point out that Iprocess information a million times faster and—""I need you to link with the flagship's intraship battlenet," the Chief cut in. "When we'reclose you'll need to shut down its weapons. Jam its communications.""Sending an unescorted lady ahead to do your dirty work?" Cortana sighed. "I supposeI'm the only one who can.""Lieutenant Haverson," the Chief said, "I'll need you to pro.gram the Moray mines torelease and attach onto the Peli.can before we exit this orbit. Set half for detonation onimpact. Program the rest to detach and track any enemy ship on our approach."Haverson nodded and settled into the ops station next to Polaski.

Two crates and a duffel pushed through the open access tunnel to the Pelican. Locklearemerged from the opening and sealed the hatch. "That's it, Chief," he said. "An HE Pistol,two extra MA5Bs, one M90 Close Assault Shotgun, and a crate or so of fra grenades.

About a dozen clips for the rifles—only a few shells for the shotgun, thougggh."The Chief took four grenades and a half dozen clips for his as.sault rifle. He ejected hisweapon's nearly spent magazine and slapped a full one into place with a satisfying clack.

The Sergeant grabbed ammo, an MA5B, and three grenades.

54 HALO: FIRST STRIKE"Orbital exit burn in ten seconds," Polaski said.

"Dog the rest of that," the Chief told Locklear. "And brace yourself."Locklear secured the collection of weapons and ordnance in a duffel bag, looped it aroundhis neck, and then found a hand.hold. Sergeant Johnson leaned against the cryopods. TheMaster Chief grabbed the bulkhead.

"Releasing Pelican," Polaski said. There was a thump from beneath the hull. "Pelicanaway.""Pelican autopilot programmed," Cortana said.

"Moray mines attached and armed," Haverson added.

Polaski said, "Exit burn in three... two... one. Burn!"The Longsword's engine roared to life, the hull creaked with stress, and everyone leanedagainst the acceleration.

The Pelican pulled ahead, rounded the horizon of the moon first, and arced back into thedebris field. As the Longsword fol.lowed, the light struck the surface of the moon justright and the Chief saw meteors rain upon the planetoid, leaving craters and tiny puffs ofdust as they impacted.

Polaski snapped the display port camera centered on the Covenant cruisers. "They were waiting for us," she cried. "Eva.sive maneuvers." The Pelican rolled to starboard."Accelerating to the flagsh—"The flagship was close. Too close. It must have anticipated their orbital trajectory. But ithadn't counted on them turning straight toward it. If they hadn't, the flagship would have been in a perfect perpendicular firing  position.

"Pelican now two hundred kilometers in the lead," Pola.ski said.

The bulky craft drew fire from the cruisers. Smoke trailed from its hull, and bits of theempty ship were vaporized.

"Mines away," Haverson announced. "Plugging coordinates and trajectories into NAV,Polaski. Don't run them over.""Roger," she said. "Hang on—we're going in.""I hate this crap," Locklear muttered. "Ships shooting each other, fire so thick you couldwalk on it to the LZ, and me sittin' here not able to do a damn thing but hang on andwonder when I'm going to get blown up."ERIC NYLUND55The Chief said nothing, but he agreed. Despite the ODST's foul disposition, he shared hisuneasiness with space combat.

"Amen," Sergeant Johnson added. "Now shut up and let the lady drive." He removed amission record unit from his pocket and inserted a chip. The screen blanked; a rhythmiccacophony blasted from its single tiny  speaker.

The Chief recognized the sound as "flip" music—a descen.dant of some centuries-oldnoise called "metal." The Sarge had peculiar tastes, to say the least.

"Just shoot me now, Sarge," Locklear protested, "and get it over with. Don't torture me"Suck it up, Marine. This is a classic."with that crap first.""So's a mercy killing."Polaski continued to evade, and the Longsword rolled and jinked port and starboard. Shesent the ship into a double barrel roll'to dodge a plasma torpedo fired from the flagship.

"Show-off," Cortana muttered in the Chief's helmet speaker.

"Connecting to the Covenant battlenet," Cortana announced over the ship COM.

"Accessing their weapons systems. Stand by."Ahead, the Pelican intercepted a second torpedo and burst into flames, vaporized, andsmeared across the night as a cloud of sparkling ionized metal.

The flagship appeared on the forward viewscreen—no larger than a dinner plate.

"No more time to play around," Polaski muttered. She hit the afterburners and rocketedtoward the flagship.

The sudden acceleration sent the Chief and Sergeant Johnson bouncing to the aft of theLongsword. Locklear still hung on to the frame, now nearly horizontal.

"There is now insufficient distance to decelerate and make a soft landing inside theflagship launch bay," Cortana warned.

"Really?" Polaski replied, irritated. "No wonder they call you 'smart' AIs." She tugged hercap lower over her eyes. "I'll do the flying. You concentrate on getting those weaponsoffline.""They're launching fighters," Haverson warned. On the viewscreen the Covenant flagshipnow filled half the display, and six Seraph fighters emerged from the belly of the massiveship. "I've still got active signals from twenty of the Moray mines.

56 HALO: FIRST STRIKETheir momentum is carrying them within range. Tracking . .. locked on ... maneuvering."Tiny puffs of fire overlapped the teardrop-shaped Seraph fighters as they exploded.

Haverson laughed. "Bull's-eye!""Forward weapons systems and shields are disabled," Cor-tana said.

"The doors are open," Polaski murmured. "We're invited in. It'd be damn impolite to sayno."The flagship filled the display.

"Collision imminent," Cortana warned.

Sergeant Johnson got to his feet. The Chief knew better and stayed where he was on thedeck. He grabbed on to the S'er.geants leg.

Polaski cut the engines and hit the maneuvering thrusters. The Longsword spun 180degrees. With the ship now pointed back.ward, she pushed the throttle to maximum, andthe engines thun.dered in full overload. The  hull strained against the sudden reverse deceleration.

The Chief hung on to the floor with one hand; with the other he held on to the Sergeant and kept him from flying across the ship.

Polaski changed the viewscreen to a spilt view—fore and aft. She maneuvered with theship's thrusters, adjusting their ap.proach to the launch bay opening. Onscreen the smallopening grew larger alarmingly fast. "Hang  on—hang on!"The engines whined and the ship slowed... but it wasn't go.ing to be enough.

They entered the launch bay at three hundred meters per sec.ond. Flames from theLongsword's engines washed over Grunt technicians as they vainly attempted toscramble out of the way. Their methane-filled  atmosphere tanks popped like firecrackers.

Polaski cut the power. The ship slammed into the wall.

The Master Chief, Sergeant Johnson, and Locklear crashed into the pilot's and ops seats ina heap.

Grunts approached the ship with plasma pistols drawn, the weapons glowing green as thealiens overcharged them. Cove.nant Engineers struggled to put out fires and repair burstconduits.

"Shield reenergizing in place over the launch bay," CortanaERIC NYLUND57announced. "External atmosphere stabilizing. Please feel free to get up and move around the cabin."Locklear scrambled to his feet. "Yeah!" he whooped. The young Helljumper yanked hisMA5B's charging lever and racked a round into the chamber. "Let's rock!""Good work, people," the Chief said, standing. He readied his own assault rifle. "But thatwas just the easy part."