“You are Ensign Michael Lovell? Recently posted on the Archimedes Remote Sensor Outpost?”

“Yes, sir. They pulled me off that duty so quick that I—”

“Then man your station, Ensign.”

“Yes, sir!”

Ensign Lovell sat at the navigation console, took a few seconds to acquaint himself with the controls—then reconfigured them more to his liking.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Keyes’ mouth. He knew that Lovell had more combat experience than any Lieutenant on the bridge, and was pleased that the Ensign adapted so quickly to unfamiliar surroundings.

“Show me the fleet’s position and the relative location of the enemy, Ensign,” Keyes ordered.

“Aye, sir,” Lovell replied. His hands danced across the controls. A moment later, a system map snapped into place on the main screen. Dozens of small triangular tactical markers showed Admiral Stanforth’s fleet massing between Sigma Octanus IV and its moon. It was a sound opening position. Fighting in orbit around Sigma Octanus IV would have trapped them in the gravity well—like fighting with your back to a wall.

Keyes studied the display—and frowned. The Admiral had moved the fleet into a tightly packed grid formation. When the Covenant fired their plasma weapons at them, there would be no maneuvering room.

The Covenant was moving in-system quickly. Captain Keyes counted twenty radar signatures. He didn’t like the odds.

“Receiving orders,” Lieutenant Dominique said. “Admiral Stanforth wants the Iroquois at this location ASAP.”

On the map, a blue triangle pulsed on the corner of the grid formation.

“Ensign Lovell, get us there at best speed.”

“Aye, sir,” he replied.

Captain Keyes fought down a wave of embarrassment; the Cradle stardock started to pull ahead of the Iroquois. It took up a position directly over the Admiral’s phalanx formation. The refit station rotated, presenting its edge to the incoming Covenant fleet to show them the smallest target area.

“Rotating and reversing burn,” Ensign Lovell said. The Iroquois spun about and slowed. “Thrusters to station keeping. We’re locked in position, sir.”

“Very good, Ensign. Lieutenant Hikowa, divert as much power as you need to get those MAC guns charged.”

“Aye, sir,” Hikowa replied. “Capacitors charging at maximum rate.”

“Captain,” Lieutenant Dominique said. “We’re receiving an encrypted firing solution and countdown timers from the Leviathan’s AI.”

“Transfer that vector to Lieutenant Hikowa and show me on screen.”

A line appeared on the tactical map, connecting the Iroquois to one of the incoming Covenant frigates. The firing timer appeared in the corner: twenty-three seconds.

“Now show me the entire fleet’s firing solutions, Lieutenant Dominique.”

A web of trajectories crossed the map with tiny countdown times next to each. Admiral Stanforth had the fleet exchanging fire with the Covenant like a line of Redcoats and colonial militia in the Revolutionary War—tactics that could best be described as bloody... or suicidal.

What the hell was the Admiral thinking? Keyes studied the displays, trying to divine a method to his commanding officer’s madness... then he understood. Risky, but—if it worked—brilliant.

The fleet’s firing countdowns were roughly timed so that the shots would be staggered into two, maybe three, massive salvos. The first salvo would—hopefully—knock out the Covenant ships’ shields. The final salvo was to be the knockout punch.

But it could only work once. After that, the UNSC fleet would be destroyed when the remaining Covenant ships returned fire. The Iroquois and the other ships were stationary targets. He appreciated that the Admiral couldn’t get too far from Sigma Octanus IV, but with zero momentum—and no room to maneuver—there’d be no way to avoid those plasma bolts.

“Sound decompression alarms in all nonessential sections, Lieutenant Hall, and then empty them.”

“Aye, sir,” she said, and bit her lower lip.

“Guns: status on the MACs?” Keyes’ eyes were glued to the firing countdown. Twenty seconds... fifteen... ten...

“Sir, MAC weapon systems are hot!” Hikowa announced. “Removing safeties now.”

The Covenant ships started to rotate slowly in space—although their momentum continued to carry them on their inbound trajectory toward the UNSC phalanx. Motes of red light collected along the alien ships’ lateral lines.

Five seconds.

“Transferring firing control to the computer,” Lieutenant Hikowa said. She punched a series of firing codes into the computer, then locked down the controls. The Iroquois recoiled and spat twin bolts of thunder toward the enemy.

The starboard view screen showed UNSC destroyers and frigates launching their opening salvo.

The Covenant fleet fired as well; angry red lances of energy raced though space towards them.

“Time until that plasma impacts?” Captain Keyes asked Ensign Lovell.

“Twenty-two seconds, sir.”

The vacuum between the two opposing forces filled with a hundred lines of fire and smoldering metal that seemed to tear through the fabric of space.

Their trajectories closed on one another, then crossed, and the bolts of fire grew larger on the main screen.

Lieutenant Dominique said, “Receiving a second set of firing solutions and times. Admiral Stanforth on the priority channel, sir.”

“Put him on, holotank two,” Keyes ordered.

Near the main view screen, a small holographic tank—normally reserved for the ship’s AI—winked into operation. Admiral Stanforth’s ghostly image appeared. “All ships: hold your positions. Divert all engine power to recharge your guns. We’ve got something special cooked up.” His eyes narrowed. “Do not—I repeat, do not—under any circumstance break position or fire before you are ordered to do so. Stanforth out.”

The holographic projection of the Admiral snapped out of existence.

“Orders, sir?” Ensign Lovell turned in his seat.

“You heard the Admiral, Ensign. Thrusters to station keeping. Lieutenant Hikowa: get those guns recharged on the double.”

“Aye, sir.”

Keyes nodded as Hikowa turned back to her task. “Three seconds until first salvo impact,” she announced.

Keyes turned back to the tac display, concentrating on the MAC rounds that crawled across the screen. The fleet’s MAC rounds hammered into the Covenant lines. Shields flickered silver-blue and overloaded as the super-dense projectiles rammed into the formation; several ships were spun out of position by the impact.

“Guns?” he called out. “Enemy status?”

“Multiple hits on Covenant fleet, sir,” Hikowa replied. “Salvo two impact... now.”

A handful of the shots were clean misses. Keyes winced; each one of the off-trajectory MAC rounds meant one more enemy ship would survive to return fire.

The vast majority, however, slammed into the unshielded alien vessels. The lead Covenant destroyer took a direct hit from a heavy round, which sent the alien ship into a lurching port spin.

Keyes saw the destroyer’s engines flare as her pilot struggled to regain control—just as a second MAC round struck on the ship’s opposite side. For an instant, the Covenant vessel shuddered, held position, then flexed as the hull stresses became too great. The destroyer disintegrated and scattered debris in a wide arc.

A second Covenant ship—a frigate—shuddered under the impact of multiple MAC rounds. It listed to starboard and rammed the next frigate in the enemy formation. Sparks and small explosions flared from the ships as a gray-white plume of vented atmosphere exploded into space. The ships’ running lights flickered, then dimmed as the pair of dead spacecraft—locked in a deadly embrace—tumbled into the heart of the Covenant line.

A moment later, the wrecked ships hit a third Covenant frigate, and they exploded, sending tendrils of plasma through space. A dozen of their ships vented atmosphere and fires flickered within their hulls.