Echo 419’s engines roared as the Pelican descended4 through the darkness andrain into the swamp. The surrounding foliage5 whipped back and forth6 inresponse to the sudden turbulence7, the water beneath the transport’s metalbelly was pressed flat, and the stench of rotting vegetation flooded theaircraft’s cargo9 compartment10 as the ramp11 splashed into the evil-lookingbrew below.
Foehammer was at the controls and it was her voice that came over the radio.
“The last transmission from the Captain’s ship was fromthis area. When youlocate Captain Keyes, radio in and I’ll come pick you up.”
The Master Chief stepped down off the ramp and immediately found himselfcalf-deep in oily-looking water. “Be sure to bring me a towel.”
The pilot laughed, fed more fuel to the engines, and the ship pushed itselfup out of the swamp. In the three hours since she had plucked the Spartanoff the top of the pyramid, he’d scarfed a quick meal and a couple hours ofsleep. Now, as Foehammer dropped her passenger into the muck, she was gladto be an aviator14. Ground-pounders worked too damn hard.
Keyes floated in a vacuum. A gauzy white haze15 clouded his vision, though hecould occasionally make out images in lightning-fast bursts—a nightmaretableau of misshapen bodies and writhing16 tentacles18. A muted gleam of lightglinted from some highly polished, engraved19 metal. In the distance, he couldhear a droning buzz. It had an odd, musical quality, like Gregorian chantslowed to a fraction of its normal speed.
He realized with a start that the images were from his own eyes. Theknowledge brought back a flood of memory—of his own body. He struggled, andrealized in mounting horror that he could just barely feel his own arms.
They seemed softer somehow, as if filled with a spongy, thick liquid.
He couldn’t move. His lungs itched20, and the effort of breathing hurt.
The strange droning chant suddenly sped into an insect buzz, painfullyechoing through his consciousness. There was something . . . distant,something definitivelyother about the sound.
Without warning, a new image flashed across his mind, like images on a videoscreen.
The sun was setting over the Pacific, and a trio of gulls22 wheeled overhead.
He smelled salt air, and felt gritty sand between his toes.
He felt a sickening sensation, a feeling of indescribable violation23, and thecomforting image vanished. He tried to remember what he was seeing, but thememory faded like smoke. All he could feel now was a sense of loss.
Something had been taken from him . . . butwhat ?
The insistent24 buzz returned, painfully loud now. He could sense tendrils ofawareness—hungry for data—wriggling through his confused mind likediseased maggots. A host of new images filled him.
. . . the first time he killed another human being, during the riots onCharybdis IX. He smelled blood, and his hands shook as he holstered thepistol. He could feel the heat of the weapon’s barrel . . .
. . . the pride he felt after graduating at the Academy, then a hitch—as ifa bad holorecord was being scrolled26 back—then a knot in his gut27. Fear thathe wouldn’t be able to meet the Academy’s standards . . .
. . . the sickening smell of lilacs and lilies as he stood over hisfather’s coffin28 . . .
Keyes continued to float, mesmerized29 by the parade of memories that began topile on him, each one appearing faster than the last. He drifted through thefog. He didn’t notice, or indeed care, that as soon as the bursts of memoryended, they disappeared entirely30.
The strangeotherness receded31 from his awareness25, but not entirely. He couldstill sense theother probing him, but he ignored it. The next burst ofmemory passed . . . then another . . . then another . . .
The Chief checked his threat indicator32, found nothing of concern, andallowed the swamp to close in around him. “Make friends with yourenvironment.” That’s what Chief Mendez had told him many years ago—andthe advice had served him well. Bylistening to the constant patter of therain,feeling the warm humid air via his vents33, andseeing the shapes naturalto the swamp, the Spartan would know what belonged and what didn’t.
Knowledge that could mean the difference between life and death.
Satisfied that he was attuned34 to the environment around him, and hopeful ofgaining a better vantage point, he climbed a slight rise. The payoff wasimmediate.
The Pelican had gone in less than sixty meters from the spot where Echo 419had dropped him off—but the surrounding foliage was so thick Foehammer hadbeen unable to see the crash site from the air.
The Chief moved in to inspect the wreckage36. Judging from appearances, andthe fact that there weren’t many bodies lying around, the ship had crashedduring takeoff, rather than on landing. The impression was confirmed when hediscovered that while they were dressed in fatigues37, all of the casualtieswore Naval38 insignia.
That suggested that the dropship had landed successfully, discharged all ofits Marine39 passengers, and was in the process of lifting off when amechanical failure or enemy fire had brought the aircraft down.
Satisfied that he had a basic understanding of what had taken place, theChief was about to leave when he spotted40 a shotgun lying next to one of thebodies, decided41 it might come in handy, and slipped the sling42 over his rightshoulder.
He followed a trail of bootprints away from the Pelican and toward the glowof portable work lights—the same kind of lights he’d seen in the areaaround theTruth and Reconciliation43 . The aliens were certainly industrious,especially when it came to stealing everything that wasn’t nailed down.
As if to confirm his theory regarding Covenant activity in the area, itwasn’t long before the Spartan came across asecond wreck35, a Covenantdropship this time, bows down in the swamp muck. Aside from swarms44 ofmothlike insects and the distant chirp45 of swamp birds, there were no signsof life.
Cargo containers were scattered46 all around the crash site, which raised aninteresting question. When the transport nosed in, were the aliens trying todeliver something, weapons perhaps, or taking material away? There was noway to be certain.
Whatever the case, there was a strong likelihood that Keyes had beenattracted to the lights, just as he had, followed them to the crash site,and continued from there.
With that in mind, he swung past a tree that stood on thick, spiderlikeroots, followed a trail up over a rise, and spotted a lone47 Jackal. Withouthesitation, he snapped the assault rifle to his shoulder and brought thealien down with a burst.
He crouched49, waiting for the inevitable50 counterattack—which never came.
Curious. Given the lights, the crash site, and the scattering51 of cargomodules, he would have expected to run into more opposition53.
Alot more.
So where were they? It didn’t make sense. Just one more mystery to add tohis growing supply.
The rain pattered against the surface of his armor, and swamp water sloshedaround his boots as the Master Chief pushed his way through some foliage andsuddenly came under fire. For one brief moment it seemed as if his latestquestion had been answered, that Covenant forceswere still in the area, butthe opposition soon proved to be little more than a couple of haplessJackals, who, upon hearing the sound of gunfire, had come to investigate. Asusual they came in low, crouching55 behind their shields, so it was almostimpossible to score a hit from directly in front of them.
He shifted position, found a better angle, and fired. One Jackal went down,but the other rolled, and that made it nearly impossible to hit him. TheSpartan held his fire, waited for the alien to come to a stop, and cut himdown.
He worked his way up the side of a steep slope, and Chief spotted a Shadesited on top of the ridge56. It commanded both slopes, or would have, hadsomeone been at the controls. He paused at the top of the ridge andconsidered his options. He could jump on the Shade, hose the ravine below,and thereby57 let everyone know that he had arrived, or slip down the slope,and try to infiltrate58 the area more quietly.
The Chief settled on the second option, started down the slope in front ofhim, and was soon wrapped in mist and moist vegetation. Not toosurprisingly, some red dots appeared on the Spartan’s threat indicator.
Rather than go around the enemy, and expose his six, the Master Chiefdecided to seek them out. He slung59 the MA5B and drew out the shotgun—bettersuited for close-up work. He pumped the slide, flicked60 off the safety, andmoved on.
Broad variegated61 leaves caressed62 his shoulders, vines tugged63 at the barrelof the shotgun, and the thick half-rotten humus of the jungle floor gave wayunder the Chief’s boots as he made his way forward.
The Grunt64 perhaps heard a slight rustling65, debated whether to fire, and wasstill in the process of thinking it over when the butt54 of the shotgundescended on his head. There was a solidthump! as the alien went down,followed by two more, as more methane66 breathers rushed to investigate.
Satisfied with his progress so far, the Spartan paused to listen. There wasthe gentle patter of rain on wide, welcoming leaves, and the constant soundof his own breathing, but nothing more.
Confident that the immediate13 perimeter67 was clear, the Master Chief turnedhis attention to the Forerunner69 complex that loomed70 off to his right. Unlikethe graceful71 spires72 of other installations, this one appeared squat73 andvaguely arachnid74.
He crept down onto the flat area immediately in front of it. He decided thatthe entrance reminded him of a capital A, except that the top was flat, andwas bracketed by a pair of powerful floodlights.
Wasthis what Keyes had been looking for? Something caught his eye—a pair oftwelve-gauge shotgun shells, and a carelessly discarded protein bar wrapper,tossed near the entrance.
He must be getting closer.
Once through the door he came across a half dozen Covenant bodies lying in apool of commingled75 blood. Struck once again by the absence of seriousopposition, the Master Chief knelt just beyond the perimeter established bythe blood, and peered at the bodies.
Had the Marines killed them? No, judging from the nature of their wounds itappeared as if the aliens had been hosed withplasma fire. Friendly fireperhaps? Humans armed with Covenant weapons? Maybe, but neither explanationreally seemed to fit.
Perplexed77, he stood, took a long, slow look around, and pushed deeper intothe complex. In contrast with the swamp outside, where theconstantdrip ,drip,dripof the rain served to provide a constant flow ofsound, it was almost completely silent within the embrace of the thickwalls. The sudden sound of machinery78 startled him, and he spun79 and broughtthe shotgun to bear.
Summoned by some unknown mechanism80, a lift surfaced right in front of him.
With nowhere else to go, the Master Chief stepped aboard.
As the platform carried him downward a group of overlapping81 red blobsappeared on his threat indicator, and the Spartan knew he was about to havecompany. There was a screech82 of tortured metal as the lift came to a stop,but rather than rush him as he expected them to, the blobs remainedstationary.
They had heard the lift many times before, the Chief reasoned, and figuredit was loaded with a group of their friends. That suggested Covenant,stupidCovenant.
His favorite kind, in fact—apart from the dead kind.
Careful to avoid the sort of noise that might give him away, he completed afull circuit of the dimly lit room, and discovered that the blobs wereactually Grunts83 and Jackals, all of whom were clustered around a hatch.
The Chief suppressed a grin, slung the shotgun, and unlimbered the assaultrifle.
Their punishment for not guarding the lift consisted of a grenade, followedby forty-nine rounds of automatic fire, and a series of shorter bursts tofinish them off.
The hatch opened onto a large four- or five-story-high room. The MasterChief found himself on a platform along with a couple of unsuspectingJackals. He immediately killed them, heard a reaction from the floor below,and moved to the right. A quick peek85 revealed a group of seven or eightCovenant, milling around as if waiting for instructions.
The noncom dropped an M9 HE-DP calling card into their midst, took a stepback to avoid getting hit by the resulting fragments, and heard a loudwham!
as the grenade detonated. There were screams, followed by wild firing. TheSpartan waited for the volume of fire to drop off and moved forward again. Aseries of short controlled bursts was sufficient to silence the lastCovenant soldiers.
He jumped down off the platform to check the surrounding area.
Still looking for clues as to where Keyes might have gone, the Master Chiefconducted a quick sweep of the room. It wasn’t long before he picked upsome plasma76 grenades, circled a cargo container, and came across the bodies.
Two Marines, both killed by plasma fire, their weapons missing.
He cursed under his breath. The fact that both dog tags had been takensuggested that Keyes and his team had run into the Covenant just as he had,taken casualties, and pushed on.
Certain he was on the right trail, the Spartan crossed the troughlikedepression that split the room in two, and was forced to step over andaround a scattering of Covenant corpses86 as he approached the hatch. Oncethrough the opening he negotiated his way through a series of rooms, allempty, but painted with Covenant blood.
Finally, just as he was beginning to wonder if he should turn back, heentered a room and found himself face-to-face with a fear-crazed Marine. Hiseyes jerked from side to side, as if seeking something hidden within theshadows, and his mouth was twisted into a horrible grimace87. There was nosign of the soldier’s assault weapon, but he had a pistol, which he firedat a shadow in the corner. “Stay back! Stay back! You’re not turning meinto one of those things!”
The Master Chief raised a hand, palm out. “Put the weapon down,Marine . . . we’re on the same side.”
But the Marine wasn’t having any of that, and pressed his back against thesolidity of the wall. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me, you freak! I’lldie first!”
The pistol discharged. The Spartan felt the impact as the 12.7mm slug rockedhim back onto his heels, and decided that enough was enough.
Before the Marine had time to react, the Chief snatched the M6D out of hishand. “I’ll take that,” he growled88. The Marine leaped to his feet, butthe Chief planted his feet and gently but firmly shoved the soldier back tothe floor.
“Now,” he said, “where is Captain Keyes, and the rest of your unit?”
The private turned fierce, his features contorted, spittle flying from hislips. “Find your own hiding place!” he screamed. “The monsters areeverywhere! God, I can still hear them! Justleave me alone .”
“Whatmonsters?” the Spartan asked gently. “The Covenant?”
“No!Not the Covenant.Them! ”
That was all the Spartan could get from the crazed Marine. “The surface isback that way,” the Master Chief said, pointing toward the door. “Isuggest that you reload this weapon, quit wasting ammo, and head topside.
Once you get there hunker down and wait for help. There’ll be a dust-offlater on. Do you read me?”
The Private accepted the weapon, but continued to blather. A moment later hecurled into a fetal ball, whimpered, then fell silent. The man would nevermake it out alone.
One thing was clear from the Marine’s ramblings. Assuming that Keyes andhis troops were still alive, they were in a heap of trouble. That left theChief with little choice; hehad to put the greatest number of lives first.
The young soldier had clearly been through the wringer—but he’d have towait for help until the Master Chief completed his mission.
Slowly, reluctantly, he turned to investigate the rest of the room. Theremains of a badly shattered ramp led up over a small fire toward thewalkway on the level above. He felt heat wash around him as he stepped overa dead Elite89, took comfort from the fact that the body had been riddled90 withbullets, and made his way up onto a circular gallery. From there, the MasterChief proceeded through a series of doorways91 and mysteriously empty rooms,until he arrived at the top of a ramp where a dead Marine and a large poolof blood caused him to pause.
He had long ago learned to trust his instincts—and they nagged92 at him now.
Something feltwrong . It was quiet, with only a hollow booming sound todisturb the otherwise perfect silence. He was close to something, hecouldfeel it, but what?
The Chief descended the ramp. He arrived on the level spot at the bottom,and saw the hatch to his left. Weapon at the ready, he cautiously approachedthe metal barrier.
The door sensed his presence, slid open, and dumped a dead Marine into hisarms.
The Spartan felt his pulse quicken, as he bent93 slightly to catch the bodybefore it crashed into the ground. He held the MA5B one-handed and coveredthe room beyond as best he could, searching for a target. Nothing.
He stepped forward, then spun on his heel and pointed94 the gun back the wayhe’d come.
Damn it, it felt like eyes bored into the back of his head. Someone waswatching him. He backed into the room, and the door slid shut.
He lowered the body to the ground, then stepped away. The toe of his boothit some empty shell casings which rolled away. That’s when he realizedthat there werethousands of empties—so many that they very nearly carpetedthe floor.
He noticed a Marine helmet, and bent to pick it up. A name had beenstenciled across the side. JENKINS.
A vid cam was attached, the kind worn by the typical combat team so theycould critique the mission when they returned to base, feed data to theghouls in Intelligence, and on occasions like this one, provideinvestigators with information regarding the circumstances surrounding theirdeaths.
The Spartan removed the camera’s memory chip, slotted the device into oneof the receptacles on his own helmet, and watched the playback via a windowon his HUD.
The picture was standard quality—which meant pretty awful. The night-visionsetting was active, so everything was a sickly green, punctuated95 by whiteflares as the camera panned across a light source.
The picture bounced and jostled, and intermittent96 spots of static marred97 theimage. It was pretty routine stuff at first, starting with the moment thedoomed dropship touched down, followed by the trek98 through the swamp, andtheir arrival in front of the A-shaped structure.
He spooled99 ahead, and the video became more ominous100 after that, startingwith the dead Elite, and growing even more uncomfortable as the team openedthe final door and went inside. Not justany door, but the same door throughwhich the Master Chief had passed only minutes before, only to have a deadMarine fall into his arms.
He was tempted101 to kill the video, back his way through the hatch, and scrubthe mission, but he forced himself to continue watching as one of theMarines said something about a “. . . bad feeling.” A badly garbled102 radiotransmission came in, odd rustling noises were heard, a hatch gave way, andhundreds of fleshy balls rolled, danced, and hopped103 into the room.
That was when the screaming started, when the Master Chief heard Keyes saythat they were “surrounded,” and saw the picture jerk as something hitJenkins from behind, and the video snapped to black.
For the first time since parting company with the AI back in the ControlRoom, he wished that Cortana were with him. First, because she mightunderstand what the hell was going on, but also because he had come to relyon her company, and suddenly felt very much alone.
However, even as one aspect of the Spartan’s mind sought comfort, anotherpart had directed his body to back toward the hatch, and was waiting to hearthe telltale sound as it opened. But the doordidn’t open, something whichthe Master Chief knew meant trouble. It caused a rock to form at the bottomof his gut.
As he stood there, gripped by a growing sense of dread104, he saw a flash ofwhite from the corner of his eye. He turned to face it, and that was when hesaw one, then five, twenty, fifty of the fleshy blobs dribble105 into the room,pirouette on their tentacles, and dance his way. His motion sensor106 painted asudden blob of movement—speeding closer by the second.
The Spartan fired at the ugly-looking creatures. Those which were closestpopped like air-filled balloons, but there were more,many more, and theyrolled toward him over the floor and walls. The Spartan opened up inearnest, the obscene-looking predators107 threw themselves forward, and thebattle was joined.
It was dark outside. Only one mission had been scheduled for that particularnight, and it had returned to the butte at 02:36 arbitrary. That meant theNavy personnel assigned to the Control Center didn’t have much to do, andwere busy playing a round of cards when the wall-mounted speakers burpedstatic, and a desperate voice was heard.“This is Charlie 2-1-7, repeat 217,to any UNSC forces . . . Does anyone copy? Over.”
Com Tech First Class Mary Murphy glanced at the other two members of herwatch and frowned. “Has either one of you had previous contact with Charlie217?”
The techs looked at each other and shook their heads. “I’ll check withWellsley,” Cho said, as he turned toward a jury-rigged monitor.
Murphy nodded and keyed the boom-style mike that extended in front of herlips. “This is UNSC Combat Base Alpha. Over.”
“Thank God!”the voice said fervently108.“We took a hit after clearing theAutumn,put down in the boonies, and managed to make some repairs. I’ve gotwounded on board—and request immediate clearance109 to land.”
Wellsley, who had been busy fighting a simulation of the battle of Marathon,materialized on Cho’s screen. As usual, the image that he chose to presentwas that of a stern-looking man with longish hair, a prominent nose, and ahigh-collared coat. “Yes?”
“We have a Pelican, call sign Charlie 217, requesting an emergency landing.
None of us have dealt with him before.”
The AI took a fraction of a second to check the myriad110 of data stored withinhis considerable memory and gave a curt111 nod. “There was a unit designatedas Charlie 217 on board theAutumn . Not having heard from 217 since weabandoned ship, and not having received any information to the contrary, Iassumed the ship was lost. Ask the pilot to provide his name, rank, andserial number.”
Murphy heard and nodded. “Sorry, Charlie, but we need some informationbefore we can clear you in. Please provide name, rank and serial112 number.
Over.”
The voice that came back sounded increasingly frustrated113.“This is FirstLieutenant Rick Hale, serial number 876-544-321. Give me a break, I needclearance now .Over. ”
Wellsley nodded. “The data matches . . . but how would Hale know that AlphaBase even existed?”
“He could have picked up our radio traffic,” Cho offered.
“Maybe,” the AI agreed, “but let’s play it safe. I recommend you bringthe base to full alert, notify the Major, and send the reaction force to PadThree. You’ll need the crash team, the emergency medical team, and somepeople from Intel all on deck. Hale should be debriefedbefore he’s allowedto mix with base personnel.”
The third tech, a Third Class Petty Officer named Pauley, slapped the alarmbutton, and put out the necessary calls.
“Roger that,” Murphy said into her mike. “You are cleared for Pad Three,repeat, Pad Three, which will be illuminated114 two minutes from now. A medicalteam will meet your ship. Safe all weapons and cut power the moment youtouch down. Over.”
“No problem,”Hale replied gratefully. Then, a few moments later,“I seeyour lights. We’re coming in. Over.”
The pilot keyed his mike off and turned to his copilot. Bathed in the greenglow produced by the ship’s instrument panel, the Elite looked all the morealien. “So,” the human inquired, “how did I do?”
“Extremely well,” Special Operations Officer Zuka ’Zamamee said frombehind the pilot’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
And with that ’Zamamee dropped what looked like a circle of green lightover Hale’s head, pulled the handles in opposite directions, and buried thewire in the pilot’s throat. The human’s eyes bulged115, his hands plucked atthe garrote, and his feet beat a tattoo116 against the control pedals.
The Elite who occupied the copilot’s position had already taken control ofthe Pelican and, thanks to hours of practice, could fly the dropshipextremely well.
’Zamamee waited until the kicking had stopped, released the wire, andsmelled something foul117. That’s when the Elite realized that Hale had soiledhimself. He gave a grunt of disgust, and returned to the Pelican’s cargocompartment. It was crammed118 with heavily armed Elites119, trained forinfiltration. They carried camouflage120 generators122, along with their weapons.
Their job was to take as many landing pads as possible, and hold them untilsix dropships loaded with Grunts, Jackals, and more Elites could land on themesa.
The troops saw the officer appear and looked expectant.
“Proceed,” ’Zamamee said. “Youknow what to do. Turn on the stealthgenerators, check your weapons, and remember this moment. Becausethisbattle,this victory, will be woven into your family’s battle poem, and sungby generations to come.
“The Prophets have blessed this mission, have blessedyou , and want everysoldier to know that those who transcend123 the physical will be welcomed intoparadise. Good luck.”
A blur124 of lights appeared out of the darkness, the dropship shed altitude,and the warriors125 murmured their final benedictions126.
Like most AIs, Wellsley had a pronounced tendency to spend more timethinking about what hedidn’t have rather than what he did, and sensors127 wereat the very top of his list. The sad truth was that while McKay and hercompany had recovered a wealth of supplies from theAutumn , there had beeninsufficient time to strip the ship of the electronics that would have giventhe AI a real-time, all-weather picture of the surrounding air space. Thatmeant he was totally reliant on the data provided by remote ground sensorswhich the patrols had planted here and there around the butte’s ten-kilometer perimeter.
All of the feeds had been clear during the initial radio contact withCharlie 217, but now, as the Pelican flared128 in to land, the package inSector Six started to deliver data. It claimed that six heavy-duty heatsignatures had just passed overhead, that whatever produced them was fairlyloud, and that they were inbound at a speed of approximately 350 kph.
Wellsley reacted with the kind of speed that only a computer is capable of—but the response was too late to prevent Charlie 217 from putting down. Evenas the AI made a series of strongly worded recommendations to his humansuperiors, the Pelican’s skids129 made contact with Pad 3’s surface, thirtynearly invisible Elites thundered down the ramp, and the men and women ofAlpha Base soon found themselves fighting for their lives.
One level down, locked into a room with three other Grunts, Yayap heard thedistant moan of an alarm, and thought he knew why. ’Zamamee had beencorrect: The human who wore the strange armor, and was believed to beresponsible for more than a thousand Covenant casualties,did frequent thisplace. Yayap knew that because he hadseen the soldier more than six unitsbefore, triggered the transmitter hidden inside his breathing apparatus130, andthereby set the raid in motion.
That was thegood news. The bad news was that ’Zamamee’s quarry131 might verywell have left the base during the intervening period of time. If so, andthe mission was categorized as a failure, the Grunt had little doubt as towho would receive the blame. But there was nothing Yayap could do but gripthe crudely welded bars with his hands, listen to the distant sounds ofbattle, and hope for the best.
At this point, “the best” would likely be a quick, painless death.
All the members of the crash team, half the medics, and a third of thereaction team were already dead by the time McKay had rolled out of herrack, scrambled132 into her clothes, and grabbed her personal weapons. Shefollowed the crowd up to the landing area to find that a pitched battle wasunderway.
Energy bolts seemed to stutter out of nowhere, plasma grenades materializedout of thin air, and throats were slit134 by invisible knives. The landingparty had been contained, but just barely, and threatened to break outacross the neighboring pads.
Silva was there, naked from the waist up, shouting orders as he fired shortbursts from an assault weapon. “Flood Pad Three with fuel! But keep itinside the containment135 area. Do it now!”
It was a strange order, and civilians136 would have balked137, but the soldiersreacted with unquestioning obedience138 and a Naval rating ran toward the Pad 3refueling station. He flipped139 the safety out of the way, and grabbed hold ofthe nozzle.
The air seemed to shimmer140 in the floodlit area off to the sailor’s right,and Silva fired a full clip into what looked like empty air. A commandoElite screamed, seemed to strobe on and off as his camo generator121 took adirect hit, and folded at the waist.
Undeterred, and unaware141 of his close call with death, the rating turned,gave the handgrip a healthy squeeze, and sent a steady stream of liquid outonto the surface of Pad 3. A Covenant work crew had been forced to build acurb around the area during the days immediately after the butte had beentaken. The purpose of the barrier was to contain fuel spills, and it workedwell, as the high-octane fuel crept in around the Pelican’s skids and wetthe area beyond.
“Get back!” Silva shouted, and rolled a fragmentation grenade in underCharlie 217’s belly8. There was an explosion followed by a loudwhump! as thefuel went up and the rating shut off the hose.
The general effect was to turn those Elites who remained on the pad intoshimmering torches—screaming, dancing torches. The response was immediateas the Marines opened fire, put the commandos down, and were then forced toturn their efforts to fire fighting. Charlie 217 was fully21 involved by thattime, and shuddered142 as the fuel in one of her tanks blew.
But there were other Pelicans143 to protect and while some had lifted off,others remained on their pads.
Silva turned to McKay. “Show time,” the Major said, as Wellsley spoke144 intohis ear. “This was little more than a warm-up, no pun intended. Therealassault force is only five minutes out. Six Covenant dropships, if Wellsleyhas it right. They can’t land here, so they’ll put down out on the mesasomewhere. I’ll handle the pads—you take the mesa.”
McKay nodded, said, “Yes, sir,” and spotted Sergeant145 Lister and waved himover. The noncom had a squad146 of her Marines in tow. “Round up the rest ofmy company, tell them to dig in up-spin of the landing pads, and get readyto handle an attack from the mesa. Let’s give the bastards147 a warmreception.”
Lister tossed a glance at the raging fires and grinned at McKay’sunintentional pun. “Yes, ma’am!” he said and trotted148 away.
Elsewhere, out along the butte’s irregularly shaped rim68, the commandeeredShade emplacements opened fire. Pulses of bright blue energy probed thesurrounding blackness, found the first ship, and cut the night into slices.
’Zamamee and a file of five commando Elites had already cleared the landingpad by the time the humans flooded Pad 3 with fuel. In fact, the Eliteofficer wasn’t even on the surface of the Forerunner installation duringthe ensuing inferno—he and his commandos were already one level down,moving from room to room, slaughtering149 every human they could find. Therehad been no sign of the one enemy soldier they wanted most, but it was earlyyet, and he could be around the next corner.
Murphy had just taken the safeties off the 50mm MLA autocannons, anddelegated control to Wellsley, when she felt something brush her shoulder.
The petty officer started to turn, saw blood spray, and realized that itbelonged to her. An Elite produced a deep throaty chuckle151 as both Cho andPauley met similar fates. The Control Room was neutralized152.
But Wellsley witnessed the murders via the camera mounted over the mainvideo monitor, killed the lights, and notified Silva. Within a matter ofminutes six three-person fire teams, all equipped with heat-sensitive night-vision goggles153, were busy working their way down through the mazelikecomplex. The Covenant’s camo generators didn’t block heat, theyactuallygenerated it, and that put both sides on an even footing.
In the meantime, thanks to a dead officer’s personal initiative, Wellsleyhad a 50mm surprise waiting for the incoming dropships. Though effectiveagainst Banshees, the Shades lacked the power necessary to knock a dropshipout of the sky, something the Covenant had clearly known in advance.
But, just as an Elite couldn’t withstand fifty rounds of 7.62mm armor-piercing ammo, the enemy transports proved vulnerable to the 50mm highexplosive shells that suddenly blasted their way. Not only that, but thefifties were computer-controlled—which was to sayWellsley controlled, whichmeant that nearly every round went exactly where it was supposed to.
Control had been delegated too late for the AI to nail the first dropship,but the second was right where he wanted it to be. It exploded as a dozenrounds of HE went off inside the fuselage. Ironically, the compartments154 thatheld the troops preserved most of their lives so they could die when theaircraft hit the foot of the butte.
But there were only two of the guns, one to the west, and one to the east,which meant that the surviving transports were safely through the easternMLA’s field of fire before the AI could fire on them. Still, thedestruction of that single ship had reduced the assault force by one sixth,which struck Wellsley as an acceptable result.
Machine-generated death stabbed the top of the mesa as the Covenantdropships made use of their plasma cannons150 to strafe the landing zone. Afire team was caught out in the open and cut to shreds155 even as a barrage156 ofshoulder-fired rockets lashed12 up to meet the incoming transports. There werehits, some of which inflicted157 casualties, but none of the enemy aircraft wasdestroyed.
Then, hovering158 like obscene insects, the U-shaped dropships turned down-ring, and spilled troops out their side slots, scattering them like evilseeds across the top of the mesa. McKay did the mental math. Five remainingtransports, times roughly thirty troops each, equaled an assault force ofabout one hundred and fifty troops.
“Hit ’em!” Lister shouted. “Kill the bastards before they can land!”
The response was a steadycrack! crack! crack! as the company’s snipersopened fire, and Elites, Grunts, and Jackals alike tumbled to the grounddead.
But there were plenty left—and McKay steeled herself against the comingassault.
The lights had gone off for reasons that the Grunt could only guess at, afactor which added to the fear he felt. Unable to do anything more, Yayaplistened to the muffled159 sounds of battle, and wondered which side to rootfor. He didn’t like being a prisoner but was starting to wonder if hewouldn’t be better off with the humans. For a while at least, until—A blob of light appeared, slid down the opposite wall, crossed the floor,and found its way into the cell. “Yayap? Are you in there?”
There were other lights now, and the Grunt saw the air shimmer in front ofhim. It was ’Zamamee! Much to Yayap’s amazement160, the Elite had kept hisword and actually come looking for him. Realizing that the breathingapparatus made it difficult for others to tell his kind apart, the Gruntpushed his face up against the bars.
“Yes, Excellency, I am here.”
“Good,” the Elite said. “Now stand back so we can blow the door.”
All of the Grunts in the cell retreated to the back of the room while one ofthe commandos attached a charge to the door lock, backed away, and made useof a remote to trigger it. There was a small flash of light, followed by asubduedbang! as the explosive was detonated. Hinges squeaked161 as Yayap pushedthe gate out of the way.
“Now,” ’Zamamee said eagerly, “lead us to the human. We’ve been throughmost of the complex, but haven’t run into him yet.”
So,Yayap thought to himself,the only reason you came looking for me was tofind the human. I should have known. “Of course, Excellency,” the Gruntreplied, surprised by his own smoothness. “The aliens captured some of ourBanshees. The human was assigned to guard them.”
Yayap expected ’Zamamee to challenge the claim, to ask how he knew, but theElite took him at his word. “Very well,” ’Zamamee replied. “Where arethe aircraft kept?”
“Up on the mesa,” Yayap answered truthfully, “west of the landing pads.”
“We will lead the way,” the Elite said importantly, “but stay close. Itwould be easy to become lost.”
“Yes, Excellency,” the Grunt replied, “whatever you say.”
Unable to land on or near the pads as originally planned, Field Master’Putumee had been forced to drop his assault team on the area up-spin ofthe Forerunner complex. That meant that his troops would have to advanceacross open ground, with very little cover, and without benefit of heavyweapons to clear the way.
The wily field officer had a trick up his sleeve, however. Rather thanrelease the dropships, he ordered them to remain over the LZ, and strafe theground ahead of his steadily162 advancing troops. It wasn’t what thetransports had been designed for, and the pilots didn’t like it, but sowhat? ’Putumee, who saw all aviators163 as little more than glorifiedchauffeurs, wasn’t especially interested in how they felt.
So, the U-shaped dropships drifted down toward the human fortifications,plasma cannons probing the ground below, while volleys of rockets lashedupward, exploding harmlessly against their flanks.
The field officer, who advanced along with the second rank of troops, wavedhis Jackals forward as the humans were forced to pull out of their firingpits, and withdraw to their next line of defense164.
’Putumee paused next to one of the now empty pits and looked into it.
Something about the excavation165 bothered him, but what? Then he had it. Therectangular hole wastoo neat,too even, to have been dug during the last halfunit. What other preparations had the aliens made, the officer wondered?
The answer came in a heartbeat. McKay said, “Fire!” and the Scorpion’sgunner complied. The tank lurched under the officer’s feet as the shellleft the main gun and the hull167 started to vibrate as the machine gun openedup. The explosion, about six hundred meters downrange, erased168 an entire fileof Grunts. The other MBT, one of two which Silva had ordered his battalionto bring topside, fired two seconds later. That round killed an Elite, twoJackals, and a Hunter.
Marines cheered and McKay smiled. Though doubtful that the Covenant wouldtry to put troops on the mesa, the Major was a careful man, which was why heordered the Helljumpers to dig firing pits up-ring of the installation, andcreate bunkers for the tanks.
Now, firing with their barrels nearly parallel to the ground, the MBTs werein the process of turning the area in front of them into a moonscape as eachshell threw half a ton of soil up into the air, and carved craters169 out ofthe plateau.
Unbeknownst to McKay, or any other human, for that matter, the third shellto roar down range blew Field Master ’Putumee in half. The assaultcontinued, but more slowly now, as lower-ranked Elites assumed command, andtried to rally their troops.
Though pursuing his own sub-mission, ’Zamamee had been monitoring thecommand net, and knew that the assault had stalled. It was only a matter oftime before the dropships would be ordered to swoop170 in, pick up those whocould crawl, walk, or run to them, and leave for safer climes.
That meant that he should be pulling out, looking for a way to slip throughthe human lines, but the session with the Prophet continued to haunt him.
His best chance, no, hisonly chance, was to find the human and kill him. Hewould keep his head, all would be forgiven, and who knew? A lot of Eliteshad been killed—so there might be a promotion171 in the offing.
Thus reassured172, he drove ahead.
The commandos were up on the first level by then, just approaching a door tothe outside, when one of three waiting Marines saw a line of green blobsstart to pass the alcove173 in which he was hiding, and opened fire.
There was complete pandemonium174 as the humans ran through clip after clip ofammunition, Grunts were blown off their feet, Elites fired in everydirection, and soon started to fall.
’Zamamee felt his plasma rifle cycle open as it attempted to cool itself,and knew he was about to die, when a plasma grenade sailed in among thehumans and locked onto a human soldier’s arm. He yelled, “No!” but it wasalready too late, and the explosion slaughtered175 the entire fire team.
Yayap, who had appropriated both the grenade and a pistol from one of thedead commandos, tugged on ’Zamamee’s combat harness. “This way,Excellency. . . . Follow me!”
The Elite did. The Grunt led the officer out through a door, down a walkway,and onto the platform where ten Banshees stood in an orderly row. There wereno guards. ’Zamamee looked around. “Where is he?”
Yayap shrugged176. “I have no idea, Excellency.”
’Zamamee felt a mixture of anger, fear, and hopelessness as a dropshippassed over his head and disappeared down-spin. The entire effort had been afailure.
“So,” he said harshly, “you lied to me. Why?”
“Becauseyou know how to fly one of these things,” the Grunt answeredsimply, “andI don’t.”
The Elite’s eyes seemed to glow as if lit from within. “I should shoot youand leave your body for the humans to throw off the cliff.”
“You cantry ,” Yayap said as he pointed the plasma pistol at hissuperior’s head, “but I wouldn’t advise it.” It took all the courage theGrunt could muster177 to point his weapon at an Elite—and his hand shook inresponse to the fear he felt. But not much, not enough so that an energybolt would miss, and ’Zamamee knew it.
The Elite nodded. Moments later, a heavily loaded Banshee wobbled off theground, slipped over the edge of the butte, and immediately began to losealtitude. A Shade gunner caught a glimpse of it, and sent three bursts ofplasma racing178 after the assault craft, but the Banshee was soon out ofrange.
The battle for Alpha Base was over.
The Spartan fired into what seemed like a tidal wave of tentacled179 horrors,backed away, and resolved to keep moving. He was vulnerable, in particularfrom behind, but the armor would help, especially since the monsters likedto jump on people.
What happened next wasn’t clear, but could make Marines scream, and putthem out of action in a relatively180 short period of time. Ammo would be aconcern, he knew that, so rather than fire wildly, he forced himself to aim,trying to pop as many of the things as he could.
They came at him in twos, threes, and fours, flew into fleshy bits as thebullets ripped them apart and seemed to melt away. The problem was thatthere were hundreds of the little bastards, maybethousands , which made itdifficult to keep up as they flooded in his direction.
There were strategies, though, things the Chief could do to help even theodds, and they made all the difference. The first was to run, firing as hewent, stretching their ragged181 formation thin, forcing them to skitter fromone end of the room to the other. They were numerous and determined182, but notparticularly bright.
The second was to watch for breakouts, concentrations of the creatures wherea well-thrown grenade could destroy hundreds of them all at once.
And the third was to switch back and forth between the assault weapon andthe shotgun, thereby maintaining a constant rate of fire, only pausing toreload when there was a momentary183 lull184 in the fighting.
These strategies suddenly became even more critical as somethingnew leapedout of the darkness. A mass of tattered185 flesh and swinging limbs lashed athis head. During the first moments of the attack the Chief wondered if acorpse had somehow fallen on him from above, but soon learned the truth, asmore of the horribly misshapen creatures appeared and hurled186 themselvesforward. Not just ran, butvaulted high into the air, as if hoping to crushhim under their weight.
The creatures were roughly humanoid, hunchbacked figures that lookedpartially rotted. Their limbs seemed to be stretched to the breaking point.
Clusters of tentacles protruded188 from ragged holes in the skin.
They were susceptible189 to bullets, however, something for which the Chief wasthankful, although it often took fifteen or twenty rounds to put one downfor good. Strangely, even the live ones looked like they were dead, which onreflection the Master Chief was starting to believe they were. That wouldexplain why some of the ugly sons of bitches had a marked resemblance toCovenant Elites, or to what an Elite would look like if you killed him,buried the body, and dug it up two weeks later.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity190, two of the reanimated Elitesbarged in through the hatch, and were promptly191 put down. That provided theChief with an opportunity to escape.
There were more of the two-legged freaks right on his tail, though, alongwith a jumble192 of the tumbling, leaping swarms of spherical193 creatures, and itwas necessary to scrub the entire lot of them with auto84 fire before he coulddisengage and slip through a door.
The Spartan found himself on the upper gallery of a large, well-lit room. Itwas packed with the bipedal, misshapen creatures, but none seemed to beaware of him. He intended to keep it that way, and slid silently along theright-hand wall to a hatch.
A short journey brought the Chief to a similar space where what looked likefull-fledged battle was underway between Covenant troops and the newhostiles.
The Spartan briefly194 considered engaging the targets—there was certainly noshortage of them. He held his fire instead, and lingered behind a fallencargo module52. After a hellish battle, the combatants had annihilated195 oneanother, which left him free to cross the bridge that led to the far endback along the walkway, and exit via the side door.
Another of the hunchbacked creatures dropped from above and slammed intohim. The Spartan staggered back, dipped, and hurled the monster back overhis shoulder. It crunched196 into the wall and left a trail of mottled gray-green, viscous197 fluid as it slid to the floor.
The Master Chief turned to continue on, when his motion sensor flickered198 red—illuminating a contact right behind him. He spun and was startled to seethe199 crumpled200, badly damaged creature struggle to its feet. Its left armdangled uselessly and brittle201 bone protruded from its pale, gangrenousflesh.
The thing’s right arm was still functional202, however. A twisting column oftentacles burst from the creature’s right wrist and he could hear the bonesinside break as they forced its right hand roughly aside.
The tentacle17 flashed out, cracked like a whip and hurled the Master Chief tothe floor. His shields were almost completely drained from the single blow.
He rolled into a crouch48 and opened fire. The 7.62mm armor-piercing roundsnearly cut the monster in half. He kicked the fallen hostile, put two in itschest.This time, the damn thing should stay dead, he thought.
He moved farther along the hallway. Two Marines lay where they had fallen,proving that at least some of the second squad had managed to get this far,which opened the possibility that more had escaped as well.
The Master Chief checked, discovered that they still wore their dog tags,and took them. He crept through the wide galleries and narrow corridors,past humming machinery and entered a dark, gloomy vault187. His motion trackerflashed crimson203 warnings—he was in Hostile Central.
Another of the misshapen bipedal hostiles shambled by, and he recognized theshape of the creature’s head—the long, angular snout of an Elite facedhim. What held his fire was where the head was located.
The alien’s skull204 was canted at a sickening angle, as if the bones of itsneck had been softened205 or liquefied. It hung limply down the creature’sback, lifeless—like a limb that needed amputation206.
It was as if something had rewritten the Elite, reshaped it from the insideout. The Spartan felt an unaccustomed emotion: a trill of fear. An image ofhelplessness—of screaming at a looming207 threat, powerless—flashed throughhis mind, a snapshot of his cryo-addled dreams aboard thePillar of Autumn .
No way is that going to happen to me,he thought.No way .
The beast shuffled208 by, and moved out of sight.
He took a deep breath, exhaled209, then burst from his position and charged forthe center of the room. He battered210 aside the shambling beasts, and crusheda handful of the small spherical creatures beneath his boots. His shotgunboomed and thick, green blood splashed the floor.
He reached his objective: a large lift platform, identical to the one he’dridden down into this hellhole. He reached for the activation211 panel, andhoped that he’d find the up button.
One of the hostiles leaped high in the air and landed next to him.
The Chief dropped to one knee, shoved the barrel of the shotgun into thecreature’s belly and fired. The beast flipped end over end, and fell backinto a clot133 of the smaller, round hostiles.
He dove for the activation panel, and stabbed at the controls.
The elevator platform dropped like a rock, so far down and so fast that hisears popped.
Where the hell was Cortana when you needed her?Always telling him to “gothrough that door,” “cross that bridge,” or “climb that pyramid.”
Annoying at times, but reassuring212 as well.
The basement, if that’s what it was, had all the charm of a crypt. Apassageway took him into another large space where he had to fight his wayacross the floor to a door and the tunnel-like corridor beyond. That’s whenthe Spartan came face-to-face with something he hadn’t seen before andwould have preferred never to see again: one of the combative213, bipedalbeasts—this one a horribly mutatedhuman . Though the creature was distortedby whatever had ravaged214 his body, the Chief recognized him nonetheless.
It was Private Manuel Mendoza, the soldier that Sergeant Johnson loved toyell at, and one of the Marines who had been with Keyes when he disappearedinto this nightmare.
Though twisted by what had been done to him, the Private’s face stillretained a trace of humanity, and it was that which caused the Master Chiefto remove this finger from the shotgun’s trigger, and try to make contact.
“Mendoza, come on, let’s get the hell out of here. I know they didsomething to you but the medics can fix it.”
The reanimated Marine, now possessed215 of superhuman strength, struck theChief with such force that it nearly knocked him off his feet, and triggeredthe suit’s alarm. Mendoza—or rather, thething that had once been Mendoza—waved a whiplike tentacle and lashed out again. The Spartan staggeredbackward, pulled the trigger, and was subsequently forced to pull it againas the twelve-gauge buckshot tore what had been Mendoza apart.
The results were both spectacular and disgusting. As the corpselike horrorcame apart, the Chief saw that one of the small, spherical creatures hadtaken up residence inside the soldier’s chest cavity, and seemed to haveextended its tentacles into other parts of what had been Mendoza’s body.
Athird shotgun blast served to destroy it as well.
Was that how these things worked? The little round pod-things infected theirhosts, and mutated the victim into some kind of combat form. He consideredthe possibility that this was some kind of new Covenant bio-weapon, anddiscarded it. The first of these combat forms he’d seen had once beenElites.
Whatever these damned things were, they were lethal216 to humans and Covenantalike.
He quickly fed shells into his shotgun, then moved on. The Spartan moved asfast as he could—at a dead run. He charged into another room, scrambled uponto the gallery above, blew an Elite form right out of his boots, andducked through a waiting door.
The area on the other side was more of a challenge. The Chief had the secondfloor to himself, but an army of the freaks owned the floor below, andthat’s where he needed to go.
Height conferred advantages. Some well-placed grenades, followed by a jumpfrom the walkway, and sixty seconds of close-quarters action were sufficientto see him through. Still, it was a tremendous relief to pass through acompletely uncontested space, and into a compartment where he found anewdevelopment to cope with.
In addition to their battering217 attacks, the creatures had acquired bothhuman and Covenant weapons from their victims, and these combat forms wereeven more dangerous as a result. The combat forms weren’t the smartest foeshe’d ever encountered, but they weren’t mindless automatons218, either—theycould operate machines and fire weapons.
Bullets pinged from the metal walls, plasma fire stuttered through the air,and a grenade detonated as the Master Chief cleared the area, discovered aplace where some Marines had staged a last stand on top of a cargocontainer. He paused to recover their dog tags, scavenged some ammo, andkept on going.
Something nagged at him, but what was it? Something he’d forgotten?
It came to him all at once: He had nearly forgotten his own name.
Keyes, Jacob. Captain. Service number 01928-19912-JK.
The droning chant that had lurked219 at the edge of his awareness buzzed moreloudly, and he felt some kind of pressure—some sense of anger.
Why was he angry?
No, somethingelse was angry . . . because he’d remembered his own name?
Keyes, Jacob. Captain. Service number 01928-19912-JK.
Where was he? How did he get here? He struggled to find the memory.
He remembered parts of it now. There was a dark, alien room, hordes220 of someterrifying enemy, gunfire, then a stabbing pain . . .
They must have captured him. That was it. This might be some new trick bythe enemy. He’d give them nothing. He struggled to remember who the enemywas.
He repeated the mantra in his head: Keyes, Jacob. Captain. Service number01928-19912-JK.
The buzzing pressure increased. He resisted, though he was unsure why.
Something about the drone frightened him. The sense of invasion deepened.
Is this a Covenant trick?he wondered. He tried to scream, “It won’t work.
I’ll never lead you to Earth,” but couldn’t make his mouth work,couldn’t feel his own body.
As the thought of his home planet echoed through Keyes’ consciousness, thetone and tenor221 of the drone changed, as if pleased. He—Keyes, Jacob.
Captain. Service number 01928-19912-JK—was startled when new images playedacross his mind.
He realized, too late, that something was sifting222 through his mind, like agrave robber looting a tomb. He had never felt so powerless, so afraid . . .
His fear vanished in a flood of emotion as he felt the warmth of the firstwoman he’d ever kissed . . .
He tried to scream as the memory was ripped from him and discarded.
Keyes, Jacob. Captain. Service number 01928-19912-JK.
As each of the fragments of his past played out and was sucked into thevoid, he could feel the invader223 enveloping224 him like an ocean of evil. But,like the pieces of flotsam that remain after a ship has gone down, randompieces of himself remained, a sort of makeshift raft to which he couldmomentarily cling.
The image of a smiling woman, a ball spiraling through the air, a crowdedstreet, a man with half his face blown away, tickets to a show he couldn’tremember, the gentle sound of wind chimes, and the smell of newly bakedbread.
But the sea was too rough, waves crashed down on the raft, and broke itapart. Swells225 lifted Keyes up, others pushed him down, and the finaldarkness beckoned226. But then, just as the ocean was about to consume him,Keyes became aware of the one thing the creature that raped227 his mindcouldn’t consume: the CNI transponder’s carrier wave.
He reached for it like a drowning man, clutched the lifeline with all hismight, and refused to let go. For here, deep within his watery228 grave, was athread that led back to what he had been.
Keyes, Jacob. Captain. Service number 01928-19912-JK.
The Master Chief fired the last of his shotgun rounds into the collapsedhulk of a combat form. It twitched229 and lay still.
After winding230 through the confusion of subterranean231 chambers232 and passagewaysfor what seemed like hours, he’d finally found a lift to the surface. Hecarefully tapped the activation panel—worried for a moment that this liftwould also drop him deeper into the facility—and felt the lift lurch166 into arapid ascent233.
As the lift climbed, Foehammer’s worried voice crackled from his commsystem.
“This is Echo 419. Chief, is that you? I lost your signal when youdisappeared inside the structure. What’s going on down there? I’m trackingmovement all over the place.”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” the Master Chief replied, hisvoice grim, “and believe me: you don’t want to know. Be advised: CaptainKeyes is missing, and is most likely KIA. Over.”
“Roger that,”the pilot replied.“I’m sorry to hear it, over.”
The lift jerked to a halt, the Spartan stepped off, and found himselfsurrounded by Marines. Not the shambling combat forms he’d spent the lasteternity fighting, but normal, unchanged human beings. “Good to see you,Chief,” a Corporal said.
The Chief cut the soldier off. “There’s no time for that, Marine.
Report.”
The young Marine gulped234, then started talking. “After we lost contact weheaded for the RV point, and thesethings , they ambushed235 us. Sir: Advise weget thehell out of here, ASAP.”
“That’s command thinking, Corporal,” the Chief replied. “Let’s go.”
It was a short walk up the ramp and into the rain. Strangely, and much tohis surprise, it felt good to enter the stinking236 swamp.Very good indeed.
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spartan
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| adj.简朴的，刻苦的；n.斯巴达；斯巴达式的人 | |
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pelican
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| n.鹈鹕，伽蓝鸟 | |
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covenant
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| n.盟约，契约；v.订盟约 | |
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descended
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| a.为...后裔的，出身于...的 | |
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foliage
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| n.叶子，树叶，簇叶 | |
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forth
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| adv.向前；向外，往外 | |
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turbulence
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| n.喧嚣，狂暴，骚乱，湍流 | |
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belly
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| n.肚子，腹部；(像肚子一样)鼓起的部分，膛 | |
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cargo
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| n.(一只船或一架飞机运载的)货物 | |
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compartment
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| n.卧车包房，隔间；分隔的空间 | |
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ramp
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| n.暴怒，斜坡，坡道；vi.作恐吓姿势，暴怒，加速；vt.加速 | |
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lashed
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| adj.具睫毛的v.鞭打( lash的过去式和过去分词 )；煽动；紧系；怒斥 | |
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immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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aviator
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| n.飞行家，飞行员 | |
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haze
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| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
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writhing
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| （因极度痛苦而）扭动或翻滚( writhe的现在分词 ) | |
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tentacle
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| n.触角，触须，触手 | |
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tentacles
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| n.触手( tentacle的名词复数 )；触角；触须；触毛 | |
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engraved
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| v.在（硬物）上雕刻（字，画等）( engrave的过去式和过去分词 )；将某事物深深印在（记忆或头脑中） | |
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itched
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| v.发痒( itch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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fully
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| adv.完全地，全部地，彻底地；充分地 | |
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gulls
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| n.鸥( gull的名词复数 )v.欺骗某人( gull的第三人称单数 ) | |
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violation
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| n.违反(行为)，违背(行为)，侵犯 | |
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insistent
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awareness
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scrolled
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| adj.具有涡卷装饰的v.（电脑屏幕上）从上到下移动（资料等），卷页( scroll的过去式和过去分词 )；（似卷轴般）卷起；（像展开卷轴般地）将文字显示于屏幕 | |
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gut
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| n.[pl.]胆量；内脏；adj.本能的；vt.取出内脏 | |
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28
coffin
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| n.棺材，灵柩 | |
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29
mesmerized
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| v.使入迷( mesmerize的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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30
entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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31
receded
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| v.逐渐远离( recede的过去式和过去分词 )；向后倾斜；自原处后退或避开别人的注视；尤指问题 | |
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indicator
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| n.指标；指示物，指示者；指示器 | |
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33
vents
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| （气体、液体等进出的）孔、口( vent的名词复数 )； （鸟、鱼、爬行动物或小哺乳动物的）肛门； 大衣等的)衩口； 开衩 | |
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attuned
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| v.使协调( attune的过去式和过去分词 )；调音 | |
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35
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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36
wreckage
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| n.（失事飞机等的）残骸，破坏，毁坏 | |
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37
fatigues
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| n.疲劳( fatigue的名词复数 )；杂役；厌倦；（士兵穿的）工作服 | |
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38
naval
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| adj.海军的，军舰的，船的 | |
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39
marine
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| adj.海的；海生的；航海的；海事的；n.水兵 | |
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40
spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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41
decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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42
sling
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| vt.扔；悬挂；n.挂带；吊索，吊兜；弹弓 | |
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43
reconciliation
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| n.和解，和谐，一致 | |
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44
swarms
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| 蜂群，一大群( swarm的名词复数 ) | |
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45
chirp
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| v.(尤指鸟)唧唧喳喳的叫 | |
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46
scattered
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| adj.分散的，稀疏的；散步的；疏疏落落的 | |
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47
lone
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| adj.孤寂的，单独的；唯一的 | |
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48
crouch
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| v.蹲伏，蜷缩，低头弯腰；n.蹲伏 | |
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49
crouched
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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50
inevitable
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| adj.不可避免的，必然发生的 | |
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51
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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52
module
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| n.组件，模块，模件；(航天器的)舱 | |
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53
opposition
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| n.反对，敌对 | |
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54
butt
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| n.笑柄；烟蒂；枪托；臀部；v.用头撞或顶 | |
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55
crouching
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| v.屈膝，蹲伏( crouch的现在分词 ) | |
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56
ridge
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| n.山脊；鼻梁；分水岭 | |
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57
thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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58
infiltrate
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| vt./vi.渗入，透过；浸润 | |
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59
slung
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| 抛( sling的过去式和过去分词 )； 吊挂； 遣送； 押往 | |
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60
flicked
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| （尤指用手指或手快速地）轻击( flick的过去式和过去分词 )； （用…）轻挥； （快速地）按开关； 向…笑了一下（或瞥了一眼等） | |
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61
variegated
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| adj.斑驳的，杂色的 | |
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62
caressed
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| 爱抚或抚摸…( caress的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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63
tugged
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| v.用力拉，使劲拉，猛扯( tug的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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64
grunt
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| v.嘟哝；作呼噜声；n.呼噜声，嘟哝 | |
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65
rustling
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| n. 瑟瑟声，沙沙声 adj. 发沙沙声的 | |
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66
methane
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| n.甲烷，沼气 | |
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67
perimeter
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| n.周边，周长，周界 | |
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68
rim
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| n.(圆物的)边，轮缘；边界 | |
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69
forerunner
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| n.前身，先驱（者），预兆，祖先 | |
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70
loomed
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| v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的过去式和过去分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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71
graceful
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| adj.优美的，优雅的；得体的 | |
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72
spires
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| n.（教堂的） 塔尖，尖顶( spire的名词复数 ) | |
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73
squat
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| v.蹲坐，蹲下；n.蹲下；adj.矮胖的，粗矮的 | |
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74
arachnid
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| n.蛛形纲动物 | |
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75
commingled
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| v.混合，掺和，合并( commingle的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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76
plasma
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| n.血浆，细胞质，乳清 | |
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77
perplexed
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| adj.不知所措的 | |
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78
machinery
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| n.(总称)机械，机器；机构 | |
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79
spun
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| v.纺，杜撰，急转身 | |
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80
mechanism
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| n.机械装置；机构，结构 | |
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81
overlapping
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| adj./n.交迭（的） | |
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82
screech
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| n./v.尖叫；(发出)刺耳的声音 | |
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83
grunts
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| （猪等）作呼噜声( grunt的第三人称单数 )； （指人）发出类似的哼声； 咕哝着说； 石鲈 | |
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84
auto
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| n.(=automobile)(口语)汽车 | |
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85
peek
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| vi.偷看，窥视；n.偷偷的一看，一瞥 | |
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86
corpses
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| n.死尸，尸体( corpse的名词复数 ) | |
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87
grimace
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| v.做鬼脸，面部歪扭 | |
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88
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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89
elite
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| n.精英阶层；实力集团；adj.杰出的，卓越的 | |
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90
riddled
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| adj.布满的；充斥的；泛滥的v.解谜，出谜题(riddle的过去分词形式) | |
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91
doorways
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| n.门口，门道( doorway的名词复数 ) | |
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92
nagged
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| adj.经常遭责怪的；被压制的；感到厌烦的；被激怒的v.不断地挑剔或批评（某人）( nag的过去式和过去分词 )；不断地烦扰或伤害（某人）；无休止地抱怨；不断指责 | |
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93
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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94
pointed
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| adj.尖的，直截了当的 | |
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95
punctuated
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| v.（在文字中）加标点符号，加标点( punctuate的过去式和过去分词 )；不时打断某事物 | |
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96
intermittent
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| adj.间歇的，断断续续的 | |
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97
marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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98
trek
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| vi.作长途艰辛的旅行；n.长途艰苦的旅行 | |
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99
spooled
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| adj.假脱机的v.把…绕到线轴上（或从线轴上绕下来）( spool的过去式和过去分词 )；假脱机（输出或输入） | |
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100
ominous
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| adj.不祥的，不吉的，预兆的，预示的 | |
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101
tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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102
garbled
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| adj.（指信息）混乱的，引起误解的v.对（事实）歪曲，对（文章等）断章取义，窜改( garble的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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103
hopped
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| 跳上[下]( hop的过去式和过去分词 )； 单足蹦跳； 齐足（或双足）跳行； 摘葎草花 | |
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104
dread
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| vt.担忧，忧虑；惧怕，不敢；n.担忧，畏惧 | |
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105
dribble
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| v.点滴留下，流口水；n.口水 | |
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106
sensor
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| n.传感器，探测设备，感觉器（官） | |
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107
predators
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| n.食肉动物( predator的名词复数 )；奴役他人者（尤指在财务或性关系方面） | |
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108
fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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109
clearance
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| n.净空；许可(证)；清算；清除，清理 | |
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110
myriad
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| adj.无数的；n.无数，极大数量 | |
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111
curt
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| adj.简短的，草率的 | |
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112
serial
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| n.连本影片，连本电视节目；adj.连续的 | |
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113
frustrated
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| adj.挫败的，失意的，泄气的v.使不成功( frustrate的过去式和过去分词 )；挫败；使受挫折；令人沮丧 | |
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114
illuminated
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| adj.被照明的；受启迪的 | |
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115
bulged
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| 凸出( bulge的过去式和过去分词 )； 充满； 塞满（某物） | |
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116
tattoo
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| n.纹身，(皮肤上的)刺花纹；vt.刺花纹于 | |
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117
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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118
crammed
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| adj.塞满的，挤满的；大口地吃；快速贪婪地吃v.把…塞满；填入；临时抱佛脚( cram的过去式) | |
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119
elites
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| 精华( elite的名词复数 )； 精锐； 上层集团； （统称）掌权人物 | |
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120
camouflage
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| n./v.掩饰，伪装 | |
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121
generator
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| n.发电机，发生器 | |
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122
generators
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| n.发电机，发生器( generator的名词复数 )；电力公司 | |
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123
transcend
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| vt.超出，超越(理性等)的范围 | |
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124
blur
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| n.模糊不清的事物；vt.使模糊，使看不清楚 | |
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125
warriors
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| 武士，勇士，战士( warrior的名词复数 ) | |
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126
benedictions
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| n.祝福( benediction的名词复数 )；（礼拜结束时的）赐福祈祷；恩赐；（大写）（罗马天主教）祈求上帝赐福的仪式 | |
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127
sensors
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| n.传感器，灵敏元件( sensor的名词复数 ) | |
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128
Flared
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| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
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129
skids
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| n.滑向一侧( skid的名词复数 )；滑道；滚道；制轮器v.（通常指车辆） 侧滑( skid的第三人称单数 )；打滑；滑行；（住在）贫民区 | |
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130
apparatus
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| n.装置，器械；器具，设备 | |
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131
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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132
scrambled
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| v.快速爬行( scramble的过去式和过去分词 )；攀登；争夺；（军事飞机）紧急起飞 | |
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133
clot
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| n.凝块；v.使凝成块 | |
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134
slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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135
containment
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| n.阻止，遏制；容量 | |
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136
civilians
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| 平民，百姓( civilian的名词复数 )； 老百姓 | |
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137
balked
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| v.畏缩不前，犹豫( balk的过去式和过去分词 )；（指马）不肯跑 | |
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138
obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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139
flipped
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| 轻弹( flip的过去式和过去分词 )； 按（开关）； 快速翻转； 急挥 | |
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140
shimmer
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| v./n.发微光，发闪光；微光 | |
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141
unaware
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| a.不知道的，未意识到的 | |
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142
shuddered
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| v.战栗( shudder的过去式和过去分词 )；发抖；（机器、车辆等）突然震动；颤动 | |
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143
pelicans
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| n.鹈鹕( pelican的名词复数 ) | |
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144
spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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145
sergeant
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| n.警官，中士 | |
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146
squad
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| n.班，小队，小团体；vt.把…编成班或小组 | |
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147
bastards
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| 私生子( bastard的名词复数 )； 坏蛋； 讨厌的事物； 麻烦事 （认为别人走运或不幸时说）家伙 | |
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148
trotted
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| 小跑，急走( trot的过去分词 )； 匆匆忙忙地走 | |
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149
slaughtering
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的现在分词 ) | |
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150
cannons
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| n.加农炮，大炮，火炮( cannon的名词复数 ) | |
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151
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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152
neutralized
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| v.使失效( neutralize的过去式和过去分词 )；抵消；中和；使（一个国家）中立化 | |
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153
goggles
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| n.护目镜 | |
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154
compartments
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| n.间隔( compartment的名词复数 )；（列车车厢的）隔间；（家具或设备等的）分隔间；隔层 | |
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155
shreds
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| v.撕碎，切碎( shred的第三人称单数 )；用撕毁机撕毁（文件） | |
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156
barrage
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| n.火力网，弹幕 | |
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157
inflicted
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| 把…强加给，使承受，遭受( inflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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158
hovering
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| 鸟( hover的现在分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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159
muffled
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| adj.（声音）被隔的；听不太清的；（衣服）裹严的；蒙住的v.压抑，捂住( muffle的过去式和过去分词 )；用厚厚的衣帽包着（自己） | |
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160
amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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161
squeaked
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| v.短促地尖叫( squeak的过去式和过去分词 )；吱吱叫；告密；充当告密者 | |
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162
steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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163
aviators
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| 飞机驾驶员，飞行员( aviator的名词复数 ) | |
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164
defense
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| n.防御，保卫；[pl.]防务工事；辩护，答辩 | |
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165
excavation
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| n.挖掘，发掘；被挖掘之地 | |
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166
lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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167
hull
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| n.船身；(果、实等的)外壳；vt.去(谷物等)壳 | |
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168
erased
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| v.擦掉( erase的过去式和过去分词 )；抹去；清除 | |
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169
craters
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| n.火山口( crater的名词复数 )；弹坑等 | |
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170
swoop
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| n.俯冲，攫取；v.抓取，突然袭击 | |
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171
promotion
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| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
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172
reassured
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| adj.使消除疑虑的；使放心的v.再保证，恢复信心( reassure的过去式和过去分词) | |
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173
alcove
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| n.凹室 | |
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174
pandemonium
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| n.喧嚣，大混乱 | |
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175
slaughtered
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| v.屠杀，杀戮，屠宰( slaughter的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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176
shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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177
muster
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| v.集合，收集，鼓起，激起；n.集合，检阅，集合人员，点名册 | |
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178
racing
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| n.竞赛，赛马；adj.竞赛用的，赛马用的 | |
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179
tentacled
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| 有触角[触手]的 | |
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180
relatively
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| adv.比较...地，相对地 | |
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181
ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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182
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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183
momentary
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| adj.片刻的，瞬息的；短暂的 | |
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184
lull
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| v.使安静，使入睡，缓和，哄骗；n.暂停，间歇 | |
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185
tattered
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| adj.破旧的，衣衫破的 | |
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186
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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187
vault
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| n.拱形圆顶，地窖，地下室 | |
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188
protruded
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| v.（使某物）伸出，（使某物）突出( protrude的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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189
susceptible
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| adj.过敏的，敏感的；易动感情的，易受感动的 | |
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190
eternity
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| n.不朽，来世；永恒，无穷 | |
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191
promptly
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| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
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192
jumble
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| vt.使混乱，混杂；n.混乱；杂乱的一堆 | |
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193
spherical
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| adj.球形的；球面的 | |
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194
briefly
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| adv.简单地，简短地 | |
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195
annihilated
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| v.（彻底）消灭( annihilate的过去式和过去分词 )；使无效；废止；彻底击溃 | |
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196
crunched
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| v.嘎吱嘎吱地咬嚼( crunch的过去式和过去分词 )；嘎吱作响；（快速大量地）处理信息；数字捣弄 | |
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197
viscous
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| adj.粘滞的，粘性的 | |
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198
flickered
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| （通常指灯光）闪烁，摇曳( flicker的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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199
seethe
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| vi.拥挤，云集；发怒，激动，骚动 | |
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200
crumpled
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| adj. 弯扭的, 变皱的 动词crumple的过去式和过去分词形式 | |
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201
brittle
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| adj.易碎的；脆弱的；冷淡的；(声音)尖利的 | |
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202
functional
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| adj.为实用而设计的，具备功能的，起作用的 | |
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203
crimson
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| n./adj.深(绯)红色(的)；vi.脸变绯红色 | |
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204
skull
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| n.头骨；颅骨 | |
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205
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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206
amputation
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| n.截肢 | |
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207
looming
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| n.上现蜃景（光通过低层大气发生异常折射形成的一种海市蜃楼）v.隐约出现，阴森地逼近( loom的现在分词 )；隐约出现，阴森地逼近 | |
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208
shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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209
exhaled
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| v.呼出，发散出( exhale的过去式和过去分词 )；吐出（肺中的空气、烟等），呼气 | |
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210
battered
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| adj.磨损的；v.连续猛击；磨损 | |
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211
activation
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| n. 激活，催化作用 | |
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212
reassuring
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| a.使人消除恐惧和疑虑的，使人放心的 | |
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213
combative
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| adj.好战的；好斗的 | |
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214
ravaged
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| 毁坏( ravage的过去式和过去分词 )； 蹂躏； 劫掠； 抢劫 | |
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215
possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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216
lethal
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| adj.致死的；毁灭性的 | |
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217
battering
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| n.用坏，损坏v.连续猛击( batter的现在分词 ) | |
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218
automatons
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| n.自动机，机器人( automaton的名词复数 ) | |
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219
lurked
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| vi.潜伏，埋伏（lurk的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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220
hordes
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| n.移动着的一大群( horde的名词复数 )；部落 | |
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221
tenor
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| n.男高音（歌手），次中音（乐器），要旨，大意 | |
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222
sifting
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| n.筛，过滤v.筛( sift的现在分词 )；筛滤；细查；详审 | |
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223
invader
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| n.侵略者，侵犯者，入侵者 | |
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224
enveloping
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| v.包围，笼罩，包住( envelop的现在分词 ) | |
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225
swells
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| 增强( swell的第三人称单数 )； 肿胀； （使）凸出； 充满（激情） | |
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226
beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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227
raped
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| v.以暴力夺取，强夺( rape的过去式和过去分词 )；强奸 | |
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228
watery
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| adj.有水的，水汪汪的；湿的，湿润的 | |
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229
twitched
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| vt.& vi.（使）抽动，（使）颤动（twitch的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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230
winding
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| n.绕，缠，绕组，线圈 | |
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231
subterranean
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| adj.地下的，地表下的 | |
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232
chambers
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| n.房间( chamber的名词复数 )；（议会的）议院；卧室；会议厅 | |
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233
ascent
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| n.(声望或地位)提高；上升，升高；登高 | |
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234
gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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235
ambushed
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| v.埋伏( ambush的过去式和过去分词 )；埋伏着 | |
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236
stinking
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| adj.臭的，烂醉的，讨厌的v.散发出恶臭( stink的现在分词 )；发臭味；名声臭；糟透 | |
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