"Not in this asteroid field," Admiral Whitcomb replied. "But you make a good point about staying maneuverable. Align our nose toward the center of mass of the planetoid, and back us up, one half reverse. Keep us out of the enemy's gunsights as long as you can."
"Firing ministers. Answering one half reverse," Fred said.
The ship slowly angled toward the center of the large asteroid and backed away.
"Cortana?" the Admiral asked. "Do we have a weapons turret or not?"
"Yes, sir," Cortana said, "but the turret's magnetic coils that shape and aim the plasma charge have overloaded."
The Admiral inhaled and sighed explosively. "Master Chief, you got anything on Weapons Station One?"
"Archer missile pods depleted," the Master Chief answered.
He scanned the display, hoping he had missed something. "No rounds for the MAC gun. All Shiva nuclear missiles fired as well, sir. The only things left in the tubes are three Clarion spy drones."
"No plasma and no missiles," Admiral Whitcomb said. "We might as well open an air lock and throw rocks at 'em."
Throw rocks? The Master Chief wondered if they could fash- ion a slug to shoot from the MAC cannon. Let its magnetic coils propel the mass to supersonic velocities and— Magnetic coils?
"Sir," the Master Chief said. "We may have a way to fire the plasma turret after all. The Gettysburg's MAC gun has seventeen superconducting coils. Cortana might be able to use them to shape and aim the plasma."
"Yes," the Admiral said, nodding.
"Maybe," Cortana amended and stared off into space, think- ing. "Calculating field strength drop-off now." The mathematic symbols scrolling across her body increased threefold. She frowned. "This would be easier if the Gettysburg was oriented bottom to Ascendant Justice's top. I'll have to guess at the interference from the intervening hulls, but it still might work.
Chief—power it up. I'll need to recalibrate the pulse generation to match the plasma output."
"MAC gun magnetic fields coming online," the Master Chief said as he tapped in commands. "Rerouting power from Ascen- dant Justice's reactor."
"We won't have enough power to move fast if we have to,"
Fred remarked, watching the energy fed to the Gettysburg's engines drop to nothing.
"That's okay." The Admiral absentmindedly tugged at the end ERIC NYLUNO 265 of his mustache. "We wouldn't be able to outrun that Covenant cruiser even if we had full power. Our only chance is to take them out before they take us out. Launch those Clarion spy drones, Chief. Target the region abeam that planetoid—so we can see around the corner."
The Master Chief kept one eye on the fluctuating magnetic field strengths of the superconducting coils as he programmed a course for the spy drones. Set to either side of the large asteroid, they'd effectively give them another set of eyes to see past the obstructing rock.
"Drones away," the Chief said and launched them; their feathery propellant trails vanished into the distance.
"Cortana," Admiral Whitcomb said, "slave your targeting system to the feed from those drones. I want a clean shot fired before the cruiser crosses that rock's shadow and shoots at us."
"Working," she replied. "Getting magnetic field variations from the Ascendant Justice-to-Gettysburg energy transfer."
"Drones in position and images online," the Master Chief said and pushed the video feed to the forward screen.
Doubled images of the Covenant cruiser appeared. Along its three bulbous sections, lateral plasma conduits glowed and every turret bristled with energy, ready to fire. Their laser batteries obliterated the large asteroids in their path, while the smaller ones simply bounced off their shields. The warship accelerated as it entered the gravitational influence of the planetoid between them.
"They're going to slingshot around," the Admiral said. "Cortana, give me your best targeting solution and fire at will!"
Cortana narrowed her eyes and calculations flashed across her body. "Extrapolating their course and speed," she breathed. "I got them."
On Weapons Station One the Master Chief saw the accelera- tion coils of the Gettysburg's MAC pulse—then redline with power. Magnetic field lines ballooned, overlapped, and distorted asymmetrically. Static washed across his MJOLNIR armor's shields, and every electrically conducting surface on the bridge sparked as the magnetic lines of force penetrated through the ship and toward the turret on Ascendant Justice.
Their only working turret heated, and plasma gathered at its tip; streamers looped upon themselves like tiny solar flares, vi- brated, intensified to orange and then blue-white.
"Almost there," Cortana cried. "Hang on."
The ball of squeezed plasma imploded. It instantly boiled away a thirty-meter section of armor and hull from Ascendant Justice; the plasma vanished for a split second—then a bolt of coiled energy corkscrewed toward the edge of the planetoid.
The Covenant cruiser rounded the planetoid, targeted the Get- tysburg, and fired.
Cortana's single shot impacted on the nose of the enemy craft first. The cruiser's shield flashed solid silver for a moment and was gone. The supercompressed plasma tore into the hull of the warship—exploding the metal where it touched. The plasma forked and detonated outward as it chained through the vessel.
Secondary explosions rippled through the alien ship's hull.
Edges of its shattered hull glowed red and then white hot as their superheated atmosphere vented. The bolt ripped through the engineering compartment, shattered their reactors—and the entire warship blossomed into fire and ejected trails of golden sparks and dying flickers of static electricity.
The five plasma bolts that the Covenant cruiser fired at the Gettysburg dispersed into a red haze. There was no longer any magnetic force to shape and guide them to their intended target.
The bridge crew watched the explosions fade from the for- ward screens. The Admiral said, "Status?"
Fred tapped the screen of the Engineering station and re- ported: "Engines and reactor offline. That magnetic pulse did something to them."
Static washed over Weapons Station One as the Master Chief looked up and said, "MAC accelerating coils intact. Drone one destroyed. Retrieving drone two, sir."
Cortana's holographic presence was missing, but her voice sounded triumphantly through the bridge speakers: "Turret number three destroyed. But if we ever get any of the other six turrets in working order, we'll have a formidable arsenal."
"We may not get that chance," Lieutenant Haverson remarked as he bent over the NAV station. "Contacts inbound. Small ships.
Dozens of them. Transferring to the forward screens."
Armored Pelicans, exoskeleton welders, a handful of Long- sword singleships, and the odd stealth Chirvptera-class vessel appeared on screen.
"Jiles's fleet," Haverson stated. "And he has us exactly where he wants us—dead in the water."
"Incoming transmission," Cortana said. "Piping it through."
"Admiral Whitcomb?" Jiles's rich and resonant voice flooded the bridge. "Can I be of some assistance? A tow, perhaps, back to our base so we can expedite repairs to your ships?"
"That would be most kind of you," the Admiral said and eased back into the Captain's chair.
Two Laden-class cargo ships came alongside the Gettysburg and attached; their engines rumbled.