John raised his weapon slowly, his hands steady, and sighted on the man’s chest. “Always shoot for center of mass,” Mendez had barked during weapons training. The man stood, stretched his back, and moved on, whistling quietly to himself.

Fred and Kelly returned, and Kelly opened and closed her hand, palm out—she had placed the marker.

John grabbed his helmet from his duffel bag and slipped it on. He pinged the navigation marker and saw the blue triangle flash once on his heads-up display. He returned Kelly’s thumbs-up and removed the helmet.

John stowed his helmet and MA2B and motioned for the rest of the team to do the same. They casually walked out of the Laden’s aft cargo hold and onto the rebel base.

The docking bay was hewn from solid rock. The ceiling stretched a kilometer high. Bright lights overhead effectively illuminated the place, looking like tiny suns in the sky. There were hundreds of ships docked within the cavern—tiny single craft, Mako-class corvettes, cargo freighters, and even a captured UNSC Pelican dropship. Each craft was held by massive cranes that traveled on railroad tracks. The tracks led toward a series of large airlock doors. That’s how the Laden must have gotten inside.

There were people everywhere: workers and men in crisp white uniforms. John’s first instinct was to seek cover. Every one of them was a potential threat. He wished he had his gun in hand.

He remained calm and strode among these strangers. He had to set the right example for his team. If his recent encounter with the ODSTs in the gym of the Atlas had been any indication, he knew his team wouldn’t interact well with the natives.

John made his way past dockworkers and robotic trams full of cargo and vendors selling roasted meat on sticks. He walked toward a set of double doors set in the far rock wall, marked: PUBLIC SHOWERS. He pushed through and didn’t look back.

The place was almost empty. One man was singing in the shower, and there were two rebel officers undressing near the towel dispensers.

John led his team to the most distant corner of the locker room and hunkered down on one of the benches. Linda sat with her back to them, on lookout duty.

“So far so good,” John whispered. “This will be our fallback position if everything falls apart and we get separated.”

Sam nodded. “Okay—we have a lead on how to find the Colonel. Anyone have any ideas how to get off this rock once we grab him? Back into the Laden’s water tank?”

“Too slow,” Kelly said. “We’ve got to assume that when Colonel Watt goes missing, his people are going to look for him.”

“There was a Pelican on the dock,” John said. “We’ll take it. Now let’s figure out how to operate the cranes and airlocks.”

Sam hefted his pack of explosives. “I know just the way to politely knock on those airlock doors. Don’t worry.”

Sam tapped his left foot. He only did that when he was eager to move. Fred’s hands were clenched into fists; he might be nervous, but he had it under control. Kelly yawned. And Linda sat absolutely still. They were ready.

John got his helmet, donned it, and checked the nav marker.

“Bearing 320,” he said. “It’s on the move.” He picked up his gear. “And so are we.”

They left the showers and strode through the dock, past massive drop doors and into a city. This part of the asteroid looked like a canyon carved into the rock; John could barely make out the ceiling far overhead. There were skyscrapers and apartment buildings, factories, and even a small hospital.

John ducked into an alley, slipped on his helmet, and pinpointed the blue nav marker. It overlay a cargo tram that silently rolled down the street. There were three armed guards riding in the back.

The Spartans followed at a discreet distance.

John checked his exit routes. Too many people, and too many unknowns. Were the people here armed? Would they all engage if fighting started? A few of the people gave him strange looks.

“Spread out,” he whispered to his team. “We look like we’re on a parade ground.”

Kelly stepped up her pace and pulled ahead. Sam fell behind. Fred and Linda drifted to the right and left.

The cargo tram turned and made its way slowly through a crowded street. It stopped at a building. The structure was twelve stories tall, with balconies on every floor.

John guessed these were barracks.

There were two armed guards in white uniforms at the front entrance. The three men in the tram got out and carried the crate inside.

Kelly glanced at John. He nodded, giving her the go-ahead.

She approached the two guards, smiling. John knew her smile wasn’t friendly. She was smiling because she was finally getting a chance to put her training to the test.

Kelly waved to the guard and pulled open the door. He asked her to stop and show her identification.

She stepped inside, grabbed his rifle, twisted, and dragged him inside with her.

The other guard stepped back and leveled his rifle. John sprang at him from behind, grabbed his neck and snapped it, then dragged his limp body inside.

The entry room had cinderblock walls and a steel door with a swipe-card lock. A security camera dangled limply over Kelly’s head. The guard she had dragged in lay at her feet. She was already running a cracking program on the lock, using her data pad.

John retrieved his MA2B and covered her. Fred and Linda entered and slipped out of their coveralls, then donned their helmets.

“Nav marker is moving,” Linda reported. “Mark 270, elevation ten meters, twenty... thirty-five and holding. I’d say that’s the top floor.”

Sam entered, pulled the door shut behind him, and then jammed the lock. “All clear out there.”

The inner door clicked. “Door’s open,” Kelly said.

John, Kelly, and Sam slipped out of their coveralls as Fred and Linda covered them. John activated the motion and thermal displays in his helmet. The target sight glowed as he raised his MA2B.

“Go,” John said.

Kelly pushed open the door. Linda stepped in and to the right. John entered and took the left.

Two guards were seated behind the lobby’s reception desk. Another man, without a uniform, stood in front of the desk, waiting to be helped; two more uniformed men stood by the elevator.

Linda shot the three near the desk. John eliminated the targets by the elevator.

Five rounds—five bodies hit the floor.

Fred entered and policed the bodies, dragging them behind the counter.

Kelly moved to the stairwell, opened the door, and gave the all-clear signal.

The elevator pinged and its doors opened. They all wheeled, rifles leveled... but the car was empty.

John exhaled, then motioned them to take the stairs; Kelly took point. Sam brought up the rear. They silently went up nine double flights of stairs.

Kelly halted on an upper landing. She pointed to the interior of the building, then pointed up.

John detected faint blurs of heat on the twelfth floor. They’d have to pick a better route, a way in that no one would expect.

John opened the door. There was an empty hallway. No targets.

He went to the elevator doors and pried them open. Then he turned on his black suit’s cooling elements to mask his thermal signature. The others did the same... and faded from his thermal imaging display.

John and Sam climbed up the elevator cable. John glanced down: a thirty-meter plunge into darkness. He might survive that fall. His bones wouldn’t break, but there would be internal damage. And it would certainly compromise their mission. He tightened his grip on the cable and didn’t look down again.

When they had climbed up the last three floors, they braced themselves in the corners by the closed elevator door. Kelly and Fred snaked up the cable after them. They braced in the far corners to overlap their fields of fire. Linda came up last. She climbed as far as she could, hooked her foot on a cross brace, and hung upside down.