First Strike

Présentation de l'éditeur The Human-Covenant war rages on as the alien juggernaut sweeps inexorably toward its final goal: destruction of all human life! Halo has been destroyed, and the threat it posed to sentient life, neutralized. But victory has come at a terrible cost for the UNSC. Thousands of valiant soldiers fell in the battle to prevent the alien construct from falling into the enemy’s clutches. Now, everything depends on the Spartan known as the “Master Chief.” Yet even with the aid of the artificial intelligence Cortana, the Master Chief will be hard-pressed to rescue survivors and evade the Covenant ships patrolling the remains of Halo in debris-strewn space. Ahead lies a dangerous voyage home, through a gauntlet of Covenant forces. For the sake of all, the Master Chief and his war-torn squad must not only survive, but take the fight to the enemy with a decisive first strike. This novel is based on a Mature-rated video game. Bungie, Halo, Xbox, the Microsoft Game Studios logo and the Xbox Logos are registered trademarks or trademarks of Microsoft Corporation in the United States and/or other countries. Used under license. © 2003 Microsoft Corporation. All Rights Reserved. Extrait CHAPTER ONE 0622 hours, August 30, 2552 (Military Calendar) UNSC Vessel Pillar of Autumn, Epsilon Eridani system near Reach Station Gamma. SPARTAN-104, Frederic, twirled a combat knife, his fingers nimble despite the bulky MJOLNIR combat armor that encased his body. The blade traced a complicated series of graceful arcs in the air. The few remaining Naval personnel on the deck turned pale and averted their eyes—a Spartan wielding a knife was generally accompanied by the presence of several dead bodies. He was nervous, and this was more than the normal pre-mission jitters. The team’s original objective—the capture of a Covenant ship—had been scrubbed in the face of a new enemy offensive. The Covenant were en route to Reach, the last of the United Nations Space Command’s major military strongholds. Fred couldn’t help but wonder what use ground troops would be in a ship-to-ship engagement. The knife spun. Around him, his squadmates loaded weapons, stacked gear, and prepped for combat, their efforts redoubled since the ship’s Captain had personally come down to the mustering area to brief the team leader, SPARTAN-117—but Fred was already squared away. Only Kelly had finished stowing gear before him. He balanced the point of the knife on his armored finger. It hung there for several seconds, perfectly still. A subtle shift in the Pillar of Autumn’s gravity caused the knife to tip. Fred plucked it from the air and sheathed it in a single deft move. A cold feeling filled his stomach as he realized what the gravity fluctuation meant: The ship had just changed course—another complication. Master Chief SPARTAN-117—John—marched to the nearest COM panel as Captain Keyes’s face filled the screen. Fred sensed a slight movement to his right—a subtle hand signal from Kelly. He opened a private COM freq to his teammate. “Looks like we’re in for more surprises,” she said. “Roger that,” he replied, “though I think I’ve had enough surprises for one op.” Kelly chuckled. Fred focused his attention on John’s exchange with Keyes. Each Spartan—selected from an early age and trained to the pinnacle of military science—had undergone multiple augmentation procedures: biochemical, genetic, and cybernetic. As a result, a Spartan could hear a pin drop in a sandstorm, and every Spartan in the room was interested in what the Captain had to say. If you’re going to drop into hell, CPO Mendez, the Spartans’ first teacher, had once said, you may as well drop with good intel. Captain Keyes frowned on the ship’s viewscreen, a nonregulation pipe in his hand. Though his voice was calm, the Captain’s grip on the pipe was white-knuckle tight as he outlined the situation. A single space vessel docked in Reach’s orbital facilities had failed to delete its navig