Seventh Cycle, 49 units (Covenant Battle Calendar) /Aboard Cruiser,Truth and Reconciliation, above Halo’s surface.

Zuka ’Zamamee had entered theTruth and Reconciliation via the ship’s maingravity lift, taken a secondary lift up to the command deck, sufferedthrough the usual security check, and been shown into the Council Chambersin record time. All of which seemed quite appropriate until he entered theroom to find that only a single light was on, and it was focused on the spotwhere visitors were expected to stand. There was no sign of Soha ’Rolamee,of the Prophet, or of the Elite to whom he had never been introduced.

Perhaps the Council had been delayed, there had been a scheduling error, orsome other kind of bureaucratic error. But then, why had he been admitted?

Surely the staff knew whether the Council was in session or not.

The Elite was about to turn and leave when a second spot came on and’Rolamee’s head appeared. Not attached to his body the way it should havebeen, but sitting on a gore-drenched pedestal, staring vacantly into space.

An image of the Prophet appeared and seemed to float in midair. He gesturedtoward the head. “Sad, isn’t it? But discipline must be maintained.”

The Prophet made what ’Zamamee took to be a mystical gesture. “Halo isold,extremely old, as are its secrets. Blessings, really, which theForerunners left for us to find, knowing that we would put them to good use.

“But nothing comes without risk, and there are dangers here as well, thingswhich ’Rolamee promised to keep contained, but failed to do so.

“Now, with the humans blundering about, his failures have been amplified.

Doors have been opened, powers have been released, and it is now necessaryto shift a considerable amount of our strength to the process of regainingcontrol. Do you understand?”

’Zamamee didn’t understand, not in the least, but had no intention ofadmitting that. Instead he said, “Yes, Excellency.”

“Good,” the Prophet said, “and that brings us toyou . Not only were yourmost recent efforts to trap the marauding human a total failure, he went onto neutralize part of Halo’s security system, found his way in to theSilent Cartographer, and will no doubt use it to cause us even more trouble.

“So,” the Prophet added conversationally, “I thought it might beinstructive for you to come here, take a good look at the price of failure,and decide whether you can afford the cost. Do you understand me?”

’Zamamee gulped, then nodded. “Yes, Excellency, I do.”

“Good,” the Prophet said smoothly. “I’m gratified to hear it. Now,having failed once, and having determined never to do so again, tell me howyou plan to proceed.If I like the answer,if you can convince me that it willwork, then you will leave this room alive.”

Fortunately ’Zamamee not only had a plan, but anexciting plan, and he wasable to convince the Prophet that it would work.

But later, after the Elite had rejoined Yayap, and the two of them wereleaving the ship, it wasn’t a vision of glory that he saw, but ’Rolamee’svacant stare.

The Master Chief paused just inside the hatch to ensure that he wasn’tbeing followed, checked to make certain that his weapons were loaded, andwondered where the hell he was. Based on instructions from Cortana,Foehammer had dropped her Pelican through a hole in Halo’s surface, flownthe dropship through one of the enormous capillary-like maintenance tunnelsthat crisscrossed just below the ring world’s skin, and dropped theunlikely twosome off on a cavernous landing platform. From there the Spartanfelt his way through a maze of passageways and rooms, many of which had beendefended.

Now, as he walked the length of another corridor, he wondered what laybeyond the hatch ahead.

The answer was quite unexpected. The door opened to admit cold air and asudden flurry of snowflakes. It appeared as if he was about to step out ontothe deck of a footbridge. A barrier blocked some of the view, but the noncomcould see traction beams that served in place of suspension cables, and thegray cliff face beyond.

“The weather patterns here seem natural, not artificial,” Cortana observedthoughtfully. “I wonder if the ring’s environmental systems aremalfunctioning—or if the designerswanted this particular installation tohave inclement weather.”

“Maybe this isn’t even inclement weather to them,” he said.

The Chief, who wasn’t sure it made a hell of a lot of difference, not tohimanyway, stuck his nose around the edge of the hatch to see what might bewaiting for them.

The answer was a Shade, with a Grunt seated at the controls. A quick glanceto the right confirmed the presence of asecond energy weapon, this oneunmanned.

Then, just as he was about to make his move, a Pelican appeared off to theleft, roared over the bridge, and settled into the valley below. There was asquawk of static, followed by a grim-sounding male voice.

“This is Fire Team Zulu requesting immediate assistance from any USNCforces. Does anyone copy? Over.”

The AI recognized the call sign as belonging to one of the units operatingout of Alpha Base and made her reply.“Cortana to Fire Team Zulu. I readyou. Hold position. We’re on the way.”

“Roger that,”the voice replied.“Make it quick.”

So much for the element of surprise,he thought. The Spartan stepped out ofthe hatch, shot the Grunt in the head, and hurried to take the alien’splace on the Shade. He could hear the commotion the sudden attack had causedand knew he had only seconds to bring the barrel around.

He swiveled the weapon into position, saw the sight glow red, and pulled thetrigger. A Grunt and a Jackal were snatched off their feet as the raveningenergy bolts consumed not only them, but a chunk of the bridge as well. Allthe rest of the enemy forces seemed to melt back into the woodwork.

Then, with no clear targets left in sight, he took a moment to inspect thebridge. It appeared to have been built for use by pedestrians rather thanvehicles, had two levels, and was held aloft by the traction beams he hadobserved earlier. Snow swirled down from above, hissed when it hit theglowing cables, then ceased to exist.

There was movement farther down the bridge deck, which he rewarded with asteady stream of glowing energy. He used the plasma like water from a hose,squirting the deadly fire into every nook and cranny he could find, therebyclearing the way.

Then, satisfied that he had nailed all the obvious targets, the Spartanjumped to the deck. The bridge was large enough that it featured a varietyof islands, turn-outs, and pass-throughs, all of which could be used forcover. That cut two ways, of course—meaning that the Covenant had plenty ofplaces to hide.

Moving from one bit of protection to the next, he fought his way across thespan, dropping down to the lower level to deal with Covenant forces there,then resurfacing at the far end, where he spotted an Elite armed with anenergy blade. The Elite ducked behind a wall.

The Chief saw no reason to close with such a dangerous opponent if it couldbe avoided, and tossed a plasma grenade over the wall. He heard the startledreaction as the explosive device latched onto the Elite’s armor and refusedto let go. The alien emerged from hiding, and vanished in a flash of light.

Thankful to put the bridge behind him, the Chief activated the hatch, madehis way through the mazelike room beyond, and entered a lift. It dropped fora long time before coming to a relatively smooth stop and allowing him toexit. A short passageway took him to a hatch and the battle that ragedbeyond.

As the door opened the Master Chief looked up, saw the bridge directlyabove, and had a good idea where he was. Then, looking down, he saw a snow-covered valley, punctuated by groups of boulders, and the occasional standof trees.

Judging from the fact that most of the Covenant fire was directed toward thecorner of the valley off to his left, the Spartan assumed that at least partof Fire Team Zulu was trapped there. They were under fire from at least twoShades and a Ghost, but putting up a good fight nonetheless.

He knew that the heavy weapons offered the greatest danger to the Marines.

He sprinted from the protection of the tunnel, paused to shoot the nearestgunner with his pistol, then headed toward the dead Grunt’s Shade. He couldfeel the heat radiating off the weapon’s barrel as he jerked the corpse outof the seat and took his place behind the controls. There were plenty oftargets, a rather busy Ghost primary among them, so the Chief decided totackle that first. A couple of bursts were sufficient to get the pilot’sattention and bring him into range.

Both the human and the Elite opened fire at the same moment, theirreciprocal fire drawing straight lines back and forth, but the Shade wonout. The attack vehicle shuddered, skittered sideways, and blew up.

But there was no opportunity to celebrate as a Wraith mortar tank turned itsattention to that corner of the valley, lobbed cometlike energy bombs highinto the air, and started to walk them toward the Marines.

The Spartan sent a stream of energy bolts toward the tank, but the range wastoo great, and the fire couldn’t penetrate the monster’s armor.

Convinced that he would have to find some other way to deal with the tank,the Chief decided to bail out, and was twenty meters away when one of thebombs scored a direct hit on the Shade he had just occupied.

The Marines saw him coming and took heart from his sudden appearance on thescene. A Corporal tossed him a weak grin, and whooped, “The cavalry hasarrived!”

“We can sure use your help—that Shade has us pinned,” another Marinechimed in.

The soldier pointed and the Spartan saw that the Covenant had dropped aShade onto the top of a huge rock overlooking the valley. The elevationallowed the weapon to command half the depression and even as the Chieflooked, the gunner continued to pound the area where Fire Team Zulu hadtaken refuge.

The Marines’ Warthog had flipped, spilling supplies out onto the ground.

The Master Chief paused to grab a rocket launcher, but knew the range wasextreme, and that it would pay to get closer.

So he slung the launcher across his back, checked the load on his assaultweapon, and moved into the trees. A party of Grunts made a run at theMarines, and were pushed back even as the Spartan spotted a likely lookingtree trunk. He moved up, killed the Jackal that lurked behind the treecover, then brought the launcher up to his shoulder. The Shade winked bluelight as he peered through the sight, increased the magnification, and sawthe gun leap toward him. Then, careful to hold the tube steady, he fired.

There was an explosion on top of the rock, and the Shade toppled off theside of a cliff.

The Marines cheered, but the Master Chief had already shifted priorities. Heran for the ’Hog.

A mortar bomb exploded behind him and blew the tree cover he’d just vacatedinto splinters. A Marine screamed as a meter-long shard of wood penetratedhis abdomen and nailed him to the ground.

The Spartan grabbed hold of the Warthog’s bumper, then used his armor’sstrength enhancements to flip it back onto its tires. One Marine jumpedaboard and manned the LAAG, and another jumped into the passenger seat.

Snow sprayed out from behind both of the rear tires as the Spartan put hisfoot down, felt the ’Hog break loose, and steered into the skid.

The sudden movement gave their position away to the Wraith. It belched, anda comet arced their way and slid sideways across the center of the valley asif to block the humans from reaching the other end.

The Spartan saw the fireball, raced to pass under it, and heard the LAAGopen up as the range to the Wraith began to close.

But there was an infantry screen to penetrate before they could dance withthe tank, and both the LAAG gunner and the Marine in the passenger seat wereforced to deal with a screen comprised of Elites, Jackals, and Grunts as theChief slammed on the brakes, backed out of a crossfire, and turned toprovide them with a better angle.

The M41 roared as it sent hundreds of rounds downrange, plucked Grunts likeflowers, and hurled them back into the bloodied snow.

The Marine in the passenger seat yelled, “Youwant me? Youwant some of this?

Come and get it!” as he emptied a clip into an Elite. The eight-foot-tallwarrior staggered under the impact and fell over backward. He wasn’t dead,however, not yet, not until the front of the Warthog sucked him under andspit chunks out the back.

Then they were through the screen, and more important, inside the dead areawhere the Wraith couldn’t fire mortar bombs without risking dropping themon itself. That was the key, the factor that made the attack possible. TheChief braked on a patch of ice, and felt the ’Hog start to slide. “Hithim!” he ordered.

The gunner, who couldn’t possibly miss at that range, opened fire. Therewas an earsplitting roar as large-caliber rounds pounded the side of thetank. Some glanced off, others shattered, but none of them managed topenetrate the Wraith’s thick armor.

“Watch out!” the Marine in the passenger seat exclaimed. “The bastard istrying to ram!”

The Spartan, who had just managed to bring the Warthog to a stop, saw thatthe private was correct. The tank surged forward, and was just about tocrush the LRV, when the Master Chief slammed the lighter vehicle intoreverse. All four wheels spun as the ’Hog backed away, guns blazing,suddenly on the defensive.

Then, having opened what he hoped was a sufficient gap, the Spartan braked.

He slammed the shifter forward and swung the wheel to the right. Thevehicles were so close as they passed each other that the Wraith scraped the’Hog’s flank, hard enough to tip the left-side wheels off the snowyground. They hit with a thump, the LAAG came off-target, and the gunnerbrought it to bear again. “Hammer it from behind!” the Chief yelled. “Itmight be weaker there!”

The gunner obeyed and was rewarded with a sharp explosion. A thousand piecesof metal flew up into the air, turned lazy circles, and drifted downward.

Black smoke boiled up out of the wreckage. What remained of the tank slammedinto a boulder, and the battle was over.

The valley belonged to Fire Team Zulu.

Cortana’s intelligence revealed there were other valleys, all connected byone means or another, and he would have to negotiate every one of them inorder to reach his objective. A drop-off prevented the Spartan from takingthe Warthog any farther.

He bailed out and made his way through the snow. A cold wind whistled pasthis visor and snowflakes dusted the surface of his armor. “Damn,” one ofthe Marines remarked, “I forgot my mittens.”

“Stow the BS,” a sergeant growled. “Watch those trees . . . this ain’tno picnic.”

Strangely, the Chief felt very calm. Right then, right there, he was home.

It was sunny, only a few clouds dotted the sky, and the strangely uniformhills piled one on top of the other as if eager to reach the low-lyingmountain ridge beyond. It had been dry in this region, which meant that thevehicles sent wisps of dust into the air as they climbed up off the plain,and made for the heights above.

The patrol consisted of two captured Ghosts, or “Gees” as some of theMarines called them, plus two of the Warthogs that had survived the long,arduous journey back from thePillar of Autumn .

Various combinations had been tried, but McKay liked the two-plus-twoconfiguration best, combinin............