Radiolarian fluid splashes on the sand. "I got it," Jolyon radios, breathless, "but I'm pretty sure I also got made."
Confirmation arrives in a fusillade of Cabal mortar shells, smart munitions that home in on the sound of the rifle shot. Usually the Cabal do not waste them against Vex. Some Centurion must be eager to use her toys on a target that won't teleport away. Uldren sucks air in relief when Jolyon clicks his transmit switch to signal he's OK.
Uldren gets up, panting. He can just see the gate to the Garden. Everyone knows where it is, sure, it's just getting inside that's the trick—
The air blurs. A roiling cloud of vacuum flux blocks his view, and then, in a blast of discharge, a Vex Minotaur strides into existence. Uldren curses, throws a jamming grenade, and runs.
"There has got to be a better way to do this," he gasps. "Any ideas?"
"Only the one you don't like. Thread the Gate with a ship coming in at Mach 20."
"The Gate's not active! Even if we made it through the Cabal guns, we need to trick the Vex into opening the door!"
"That means killing a Gate Lord with just our personal weapons—"
"No, it doesn't," Uldren breathes. "I have a princely idea." This is what Uldren lives for. Skittering past death, brushing its whiskers, leaping away from that toothy maw. "Break contact. We need stealth now. Then we need to pick a few unfortunate targets…"
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