Matt-038 (Halo Fanfiction)

Chapter 61: Clearing House

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 61: Clearing House

Location: Uncharted system, Aboard unidentified Covenant flagship, Halo debris field

September 22, 2552

1802 hours

Matt ducked as the hissing energy blade slashed at him. He dived toward the Elite and slammed the butt of his rifle into the alien's midsection.

The Elite doubled over, and Matt brought the rifle butt down to smash the alien's skull—

But the Elite rolled back. There was a blur of motion as the energy blade lashed out and neatly bisected the assault rifle. The two halves of the wrecked MA5B clattered to the deck.

The blade of crackling white-hot energy narrowly missed Matt. The MJOLNIR's internal temperature skyrocketed.

He couldn't risk dancing at this range, so Matt did the last thing the creature expected: He stepped closer and grabbed its wrists.

The bands of muscle on the Elite's arms were iron hard, and it struggled to free itself from Matt's grasp. He wrenched the alien's sword arm and forced the blade away—but this took most of his strength, and he had to weaken his grasp on the Elite's other hand.

The energy blade blurred perilously close to Matt's head. It missed by a fraction of a centimeter and sent a wash of static across his heads-up display.

The blade was a flattened triangle of white-hot plasma, contained in an electromagnetic envelope that emanated from its hilt.

Matt had seen such weapons slice battle-armored ODSTs in half and gouge gaping wounds in Titanium-A armor plating.

Worse, this Elite was tough, cunning, well trained—and it hadn't spent days fighting nonstop on Halo. Matt felt every wound, pulled a muscle, and strained tendon in his body.

Haverson and Polaski moved onto the bridge, their pistols drawn, but neither of them had a clear line of fire.

"Move, Commander!" Haverson shouted. "Damn it, we've got no shot!"

Easier said than done. If he let go, the Elite would cut him in two. Matt grunted, struggling to turn the Elite. The alien fought back for a moment, then—instead of resisting—lurched back, right into the path of Matt's advancing teammates.

The Elite flicked the angle of its blade flat so the arc of energy whipped toward Haverson and Polaski.

Haverson screamed and fell to the ground as the energy blade sliced through his pistol and across his chest.

Polaski cursed and fired a single shot, but it glanced off the Elite's shield.
The alien glanced at the source of the fire and growled in its guttural, warbling tongue.

"Get the Lieutenant out of here," Matt barked. He raised his knee to his chest and lashed out with a straight kick. His boot connected with the Elite's breastplate.

The alien's energy shield flared, then faded, and its breastplate cracked like porcelain beneath the force of the blow.

The alien staggered back, dragging Matt with it. It coughed up purple-black blood that smeared Matt's visor, obscuring his vision. Its foot struck something on the ground—the alien's fallen helmet—and it lost its footing.