Matt-038 (Halo Fanfiction)

Chapter 47: The Library

Author's Note: If you have any tips writing tips, please feel free to comment.

Again, I gratefully accept constructive criticism as a means to help me develop my skills further as a writer.

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Chapter 47: The Library

Location: Unknown Location on Halo

D +63:59:48 (SPARTAN-II Blue Team Mission Clock)

Matt felt himself rush back together like a puzzle with a million pieces, wondered what had happened, and where he was. He felt disoriented, nauseated, and angry.

A quick look around was sufficient to ascertain that the machine named 343 Guilty Spark had somehow transported the Spartans from the swamp into the bowels of a dark, brooding structure. Matt saw the machine hovering high above, glowing a thin, ghostly blue.

The Spartans raised their assault weapons, and each fired half a clip into it. The bullets were dead on but had no effect other than to elicit a bemused response.

"That was unnecessary, Reclaimers. I suggest that you conserve your ammunition for the effort ahead."

No less angry, but with little choice but to accept the situation, the Spartans looked around.

"So where are we?" John asked.

"The installation was specifically built to study and contain the Flood," the machine answered patiently. "Their survival as a race was dependent on it. I am grateful to see that some of them survived to reproduce."

"'Survived'? 'Reproduce'? What the hell are you talking about?" Matt demanded.

"We must collect the Index," Spark said, leaving the Spartans' questions unanswered. "And time is of the essence. Please follow me."

The blue light zipped away at that point, forcing the Spartans to follow, or be left behind. Matt checked both his weapons as they walked.

"Speaking of you, who the hell are you," Crystal inquired, "and what's your function?"

"I am 343 Guilty Spark," the machine said, pedantically. "I am the Monitor, or more precisely, a self-repairing artificial intelligence charged with maintaining and operating this facility. But you are the Reclaimers—so you know that already."

Matt didn't know anything of the kind, but it seemed wise to play along, so he did. "Yes, well, refresh our memory... how long has it been since you were left in charge?"

"Exactly 101,217 local years," the Monitor replied cheerfully, "many of which were quite boring. But not anymore! Hee, hee, hee."

The Spartans were taken aback by the sudden giggle from the small machine. Matt knew that the AIs humans used could, over time, develop personalities politely described as "quirky." 343 Guilty Spark had been here for tens of thousands of years.

It was quite possible that the little AI was insane.

The Monitor chattered on, nattering about "effecting repairs to substation nine" and other non-sequiturs.

His dialogue was interrupted as a variety of Flood forms bounced, waddled, and leaped out of the surrounding darkness. Suddenly the Spartans were fighting for their lives again, moving back and forth to stretch the enemy out, blasting anything that moved.

That was when they first identified a new Flood form. They were large misshapen things that would explode when fired upon, spewing up to a dozen infection forms in every direction, thereby multiplying the number of targets that the shooter had to track and kill.