The fore view screen, however, was now filled with incoming weapons fire.

“Fleet commander on priority channel,” Dominique announced. “Audio only.”

“Patch it through, Lieutenant,” Keyes ordered.

A hiss of static crackled through the communications-system speakers. A moment later, Admiral Stanforth’s voice calmly broke through the noise. “Lead to all ships: hold your positions,” the Admiral said. “Make ready to fire. Transfer timers to your computers... and hang on to your hats.”

A shadow crossed the overhead camera. On the view screen, Captain Keyes watched as the Cradle repair station, the plate nearly a kilometer on edge, rotated and started to slide in front of their phalanx formation.

“Christ,” Ensign Lovell whispered, “they’re going to take the hits for us.”

“Dominique, hit the scopes. Are there any lifepods outbound from Cradle?” Keyes asked. He already knew the answer.

“Sir,” Dominique answered, his deep voice thick with worry. “No escape craft have left the Cradle.”

All eyes on the Iroquois’ bridge were riveted to the screen. Keyes’ hands clenched with anger and helplessness. There was nothing to do but watch.

The front view screen went black as the station passed in front of them. Pinpoints of red and orange appeared along the back surface, metal vapor venting in plumes. Cradle lurched closer to the fleet, the impact of the plasma torpedoes pushing it back. The station continued to move downward, spreading out the damage. Holes appeared in the surface; the internal lattice of steel girders was exposed and, seconds later, glowed white-hot—then the view screen was clear again.

“Ventral cameras,” Captain Keyes said. “Now!”

The view changed as Dominique switched to the Iroquois’ belly cameras. Cradle station reappeared. She spun and her entire forward surface was aglow... heat spread to the edges, the center liquefied and pulled away.

“MAC guns ready to fire in three seconds,” Lieutenant Hikowa announced, her voice cold and angry. “Targeting lock acquired.”

Keyes gripped the arms of the command chair. “Cradle’s crew bought this shot for us, Lieutenant,” Captain Keyes growled. “Make it count.”

The Iroquois shuddered as the MAC gun fired. On the status display, Keyes watched as the rest of the UNSC fleet fired simultaneously. A twenty-one-gun salute three times over for those on board the station who had given their lives.

“All ships: break and attack!” Admiral Stanforth bellowed. “Pick your targets and fire at will. Take as many of these bastards out as you can! Stanforth out.”

They had to move before the Covenant plasma weapons recharged.

“Give me fifty percent on our engines,” Captain Keyes ordered, “and come about to course two eight zero.”

“Aye,” Ensign Lovell and Lieutenant Hall replied in unison.

“Lieutenant Hikowa, release safeties on the Archer missile system.”

“Safeties disengaged, sir.”

The Iroquois moved away at a near-right angle from the phalanx formation. The other UNSC ships scattered at all vectors. One UNSC destroyer, the Lancelot, accelerated straight toward the Covenant line.

As the UNSC ships scattered, the MAC salvo reached the Covenant ships. The Admiral’s firing solutions had targeted the remainder of the Covenant battlegroup’s smaller ships. Their shields sparkled, rippled, and then flickered out of existence. Their frigates shattered under the impact of the firepower. Holes ripped through their hulls. Wrecked spacecraft drifted lazily through the battle area.

The surprise second salvo had cost the Covenant dearly—a dozen enemy ships were out of the fight.

That left eight Covenant vessels—destroyers and cruisers.

Pulse lasers and Archer missiles fired, and every ship onscreen accelerated towards one another. Both Covenant and UNSC ships released their single-ship fighters.

The tac computer was having trouble tracking everything—Keyes cursed to himself over the lack of a ship AI—as the missile fire and plasma discharges strobed in the blackness. Single ships—the humans’ Longsword fighters and the flat, vaguely piscine Covenant fighters—dove, and fired, and impacted into warships. Archer missiles left trails of exhaust. Blue pulse lasers scattered inside the clouds of vented propellant and atmosphere, and cast a ghostly blue glow over the scene.

“Orders, sir?” Lovell asked nervously.

Captain Keyes paused—something felt... wrong. The battle was utter chaos, and it was nearly impossible to tell exactly what was happening. Sensor data was thrown off by the constant detonations and the fire of the aliens’ energy weapons.

“Scan near the planet, Lieutenant Hall,” Keyes said. “Ensign Lovell, move us closer to Sigma Octanus Four.”

“Sir?” Lieutenant Dominique said. “We’re not engaging the Covenant fleet?”

“Negative, Lieutenant.”

The bridge crew paused for a fraction of a second—all except Ensign Lovell, who tapped on the controls and plotted a new course. The bridge crew had all had a taste of being heroes in their last battle, and they wanted more. Captain Keyes knew what that was like... and he knew how dangerous it was.

He was not about to charge into battle, however, with the Iroquois at half power, her structural integrity already compromised, and with no AI to mount a point defense against Covenant single ships. One plasma torpedo to their lower decks would gut them.

If he remained where he was and attempted to shoot into the fray, he was just as likely to accidentally hit a friendly ship as a Covenant vessel.

No. There were several damaged Covenant ships in the area. He would finish them off—make sure they could not launch any attack on their fleet. There was no glory in the action—but considering their present condition, glory was of little concern. Survival was.

Captain Keyes watched the battle rage in the starboard camera. The Leviathan took a plasma bolt, and her foredecks burned. One Covenant ship collided with the UNSC frigate Fair Weather; the superstructures of the two craft locked together—and both ships opened fire at point-blank range. The Fair Weather detonated into a ball of nuclear fire that engulfed the Covenant destroyer. Both ships faded from the tactical display.

“Covenant ship detected in orbit around Sigma Octanus Four,” Lieutenant Hall reported.

“Let me see it,” Keyes said.

A small vessel appeared on-screen. It was smaller than the Covenant equivalent of a frigate... but definitely larger than one of the aliens’ dropships. It was sleek and seemed to waver in and out of the blankness of space. The engine pods were baffled and devoid of the characteristic purple-white glow of Covenant propulsion systems.

“They’re in a geosynchronous orbit over Côte d’Azur,” Lieutenant Hall reported. “Their thrusters are firing microbursts. Precision station keeping, sir, if I were to guess.”

Lieutenant Dominique interrupted. “Detected scattering from a narrow-beam transmission on the planet surface, sir. A far-infrared laser.”

Captain Keyes turned toward the main battle on-screen. Was this slaughter just a diversion?

The original attack on Sigma Octanus IV had been for the sole purpose of landing ships and invading Côte d’Azur. Once accomplished, their battle group had left.

And now—whatever the Covenant’s purpose was groundside, they were sending information to this stealth ship... while the rest of their fleet kept the UNSC forces from interfering.

“Like hell,” he muttered.

“Ensign Lovell, plot a collision course for that ship.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Lieutenant Hall, push the engines as far as you can. I need every bit of speed you can get me.”

“Yes, sir. If we vent primary coolant and use our reserve, I can boost the engine output to sixty-six percent... for five minutes.”

“Do it.”

The Iroquois moved sluggishly toward the Covenant ship.