Free The Flood by William Corey Dietz Page A

appear in front of the Council of Masters later this evening. You will accompany me.”
    “Yes, Excellency,” Yayap said obediently. “May I inquire as to the purpose of the meeting?”
    “You may,” ’Zamamee replied, allowing a hand to touch the bandage that circled his head. “The human who inflicted this wound was a warrior so capable that he represents a danger to the entire battle group. An individual who, if our records can be believed, is personally responsible for the deaths of more than a thousand of our soldiers.”
    Yayap felt his knees start to give. “By himself, Excellency?”
    “Yes. But never fear, those days are over. Once I receive authorization, you and I will find this human.”
    “ Find him?” Yayap exclaimed, protocol forgotten. “ Then what?”
    “Then,” ’Zamamee growled, “we will kill him.”
     
    The dawn air was cold, and McKay could see her breath as she stared upward and wondered what awaited her. Half the night had been spent marching across the stretch of intervening hardpan to get into position below the butte, and the other half had been spent between trying to find a way up to the top, and grabbing a little bit of sleep.
    The second task had been easy, perhaps a little too easy , because other than a sloppily constructed barricade, the foot of the four-foot-wide ramp was entirely unguarded. Still, the last thing the Covenant expected was for a human ship to appear out of Slipspace, and land infantry on the surface of the construct. Viewed in that light, a certain lack of preparation was understandable.
    In any case, the path started at ground level, spiraled steadily upward, and hadn’t been used in some time judging from what she could see. That’s the way it appeared , anyway, although it was hard to be sure from below, and Silva was understandably reluctant to send in one of the Pelicans lest it give the plan away.
    No, McKay and her troops would have to wind their way up along the narrow path, engage whatever defenses the Covenant might have in place, and hope that the Pelicans arrived quickly enough to take the pressure off.
    The Lieutenant eyed the readout on the transparent boom-mounted eye-screen attached to her helmet, waited for the countdown to complete itself, and started up the steep incline. Company Sergeant Tink Carter turned to face the men and women lined up behind him. “What the hell are you waiting for? An engraved invitation? Let’s get it in gear.”
    While B Company marched toward the butte, and C Company marched off to rendezvous with the Pelicans, the rest of the battalion used the remaining hours of darkness to prepare for the following day under Major Silva’s watchful eye. Wireless sensors were placed two hundred meters out and monitored by Wellsley; three-person fire teams took up positions a hundred fifty meters out; and a rapid response team was established to support them.
    There wasn’t any natural cover here, so the Helljumpers moved their gear up onto a low rise, and did what they could to place fortifications around it. Dirt excavated from the firing pits was used to build a low barrier around the battalion’s perimeter, connecting trenches were dug, and a landing pad was established so that Pelicans could put down within the battalion’s footprint.
    Now, standing at the very highest point of the pad, and gazing off to the west, Silva listened as Wellsley spoke into his ear. “I have good news and bad news. The good news is that Lieutenant McKay has started her climb. The bad news is that the Covenant is about to attack from the west.”
    Silva lowered his glasses, turned, and looked to the west. An enormous dust cloud had appeared during the five minutes that had passed since he looked that way. “What kind of attack?” the ODST officer demanded curtly.
    “That’s rather difficult to say,” Wellsley replied deliberately, “especially without the ships, satellites, and recon drones that I normally rely on for information.