Halo ODST: To Love a Dying World

Puppet Strings

The rest of the fighting is significantly easier. The Spartan... Naomi, is a machine. I don't know what kind of armor they've fitted the Spartans with, but by the looks of it you could fire a tank shell at them and they'd keep going. She doesn't talk much, even in combat. I think she's said maybe... two words since introducing herself? That was about a dozen bodies back. I'm trying to keep up, cover here where I can but at this point it's just like shooting moa from a dropship. Then it goes wrong.

"Eyes on the final position!" I shout.

I unload a few rounds into one of a group working an industrial welder. They've attached the device to the safe room door and are already making progress. The enemy are taking cover behind another heavy barricade and another chokepoint, but this one lacks a heavy machinegun emplacement so I think we're in the proverbial down-slope of this challenge. Naomi charges past me, with Chance and Viking covering her. I hear one of the innie's who must be their leader shouting something about a weapon, and then I see him grab something off the floor before charging to the defensive barrier. The weapon looks like a pod of some kind, bright blue and very... alien. No, it can't be. I raise my weapon, intent on dropping the insurgent before he has a chance to prove me right.

The innie leader grins as my rounds impact a bright blue shield that materializes around him, similar to what Naomi is covered in save for the color. Then he fires. Bright blue bolts of energy rip free, burning the very air around them with heat. I've heard the sound before, and his target is the Spartan. The bolts slam into her with aggressive intent, and for a moment it's a light show of gold shielding and blue plasma fire. Then Naomi's shielding fails. She doesn't make a sound, but I see the energy bolt impact just below her breastplate. She hits the ground with a thud, one hand moving to her wound.

I abandon my cover and take aim. I charge forwards and depress the trigger of my M7, determined to fire every last round I've got at the innie leader. The other insurgents are turning their guns on me, but it's too late. If Naomi's shields can be broken, so can yours. I see them flicker, then drop, and the wall of my bullets shreds the enemy leader in an instant. I risk a look at the Spartan. She's moving. Her helmet's unblinking visor is staring at me. I realize my celebration will be brief as I hear Chance shouting at me to take cover. The other innie's aren't broken by their leader's death and the first two rounds of return fire hit my breastplate. The impact puts me on my ass, and another round hits the side of my helmet. The loud bang disorients me and for a moment my HUD is knocked out. This is it. Not a bad death.

A shadow appears, blocking my view. It's the Spartan, crouched down in front of my position like a bunker, her armor absorbing the punishment of the enemies' fire.

"Push forwards!" Chance orders, and the others rush to our aid.

One by one the innie's fall, and then the hallways is quiet. The Spartan rises in front of me and for a moment the image reminds me of the recruitment posters that are responsible for me joining the UNSC in the first place- a lone, battle damaged figure standing amongst total destruction. Naomi wordlessly offers me a hand, and I take it.

"I've got the door." Scratch says, ducking down beside the console.

Wink and Chance have already set up a perimeter, covering the two corridors that lead to the saferoom junction. I grab a nearby pry bar and start the work of getting the welder unit off the door. Weapons fire has damaged it significantly in the battle, and the mag locks that keep it anchored are stuck. "This things are really on there." I say between pulling with all my might and strained breaths. I have a suspicion that I'm not making any progress when I feel a hand on my shoulder.

"Let me." Naomi says.

I clear my throat and nod, then offer her the pry bar. She shakes her head and simply grabs the entire welding unit in a bear hug. Even Scratch stops working for a moment to watch as the Spartan slowly but surely tares the entire four hundred pound welding unit free from the door and tosses it aside.