There were a few academic reasons that you closed the door, and from the inside, rather than behind you as you left. Her quarters held some measure of safety for you, as she warded with the paranoid focus of an escaped murderer, and therefore half as tightly as you did.
Two teardrop-shaped Covenant Seraph fighters roared over their hiding spot. A line of plasma erupted a hundred meters behind them an inferno that billowed
and blossomed straight toward his team.
Tom leapt to one side, activating his Jackal shield, holding it between him and the three-thousand-degree flames that would melt though his SPI armor like butter. The force field flared white from the radiation; his skin on his palms prickled with blisters. The plasma passed . . . thinned . . . evaporated. The air cooled.
