The Spartan burst into the armored room quickly, searching. This was what the Doctor had so humbly referred to as the 'language lab'. It was also the housing room for the computer centers, as well as the main targeting equipment. He was here for something else though.
"Here Doctor, put this on. Then take this, and follow me." Spartan 84 was all business now, determined that they were under attack. Shingen had tried contacting the listening post, and they had failed to respond. So, Shingen tried the anti-aircraft turrets, again with no response. He tried anyone he could think of that was outside, and no response whatsoever. Now he was here, trying to grab the AI and lock down the main terminals, as well as pick up a few things. Looking around, Shingen barely caught the armored vest and helmet that the Spartan tossed him. Looking over at 84, Shingen watched as he put a battle rifle on the nearest table, giving Shingen a nod. Shingen wasted no time in throwing on the gear, and checking the ammo and safety of the rifle. He knew how to use it, was trained in using it. He just hadn't ever fired it at something that wasn't a dummy target.
The Spartan glanced around, and tapped a monitor to life.
"Hello Lieutenant Commander Tyler-84, what may I do for you?" The AI's voice was honey sweet, but he knew that she was capable of anything he needed.
"We're under attack Lady Winter, I need you in me. We have to hurry." After letting her know, 84 reached down and pulled the crystal chip from its socket interface, and inserted it into his helmet.
"Time to go, Doc. Stay close." The Spartan turned and went out the door. He turned to the right, went down the corridor, past many other doors labeled with different functions, until he found the one he was looking for. The door read 'Combat Room'. A little plain for the Spartan's taste, but it did what it needed to do. Opening the door, 84 startled the marine on guard, who was obviously not expecting company. Either of them. The two marines stumbled to their feet, trying not to be too embarrassed for being caught at the act, and finished getting dressed.
"Report." The Spartans voice was like a cold knife.
"Private Allen Moor, sir."
"Private Kelly Rhyder, sir."
"Things are about to get real nasty. I need this gun up and running, understood?" 84 turned on his heels, and continued down the corridor. He could hear machinery coming to life all around him. That meant that half the compounds electricity would be rerouted into this building to fulfill the enormous requirements of the MAC gun. If the flickering lights don't alarm the partying marines, he was sure the first rocket would.
The Spartan turned the corner, and walked into a large room. This one was strewn with bits and pieces. All the samples they had recovered from the caverns below were here, labeled and lain out. This was also the room right above the MAC guns ammo. Not that it would be an issue, the MAC gun didn't fire anything but giant balls of metal and rock. The reason the Spartan was here was because this was the only room with an exterior exit in the entire building. If they were here, which they were, they would be coming in through there. 84 dropped to one knee, and slid up beside a table that displayed a large chunk of stone covered in glyphs. He propped the rocket launcher up onto his shoulder, and looked through the sight. He placed the shotgun on the table, so he could use both hands to steady the massive rocket launcher. Shingen came up directly across form him behind another table, laying his rifle on the table, and pressing his eye to the scope. No more time left, they were coming.
Telys saw the explosions from behind his perch. He laughed, a deep wort, wort, wort. As he did so, he activated his active camouflage, gathered his two plasma rifles, and ran out form behind cover. Telys Menee was going to meet the enemy face on, the way it should be done. The loud footsteps behind him let him know that his unit was close behind. He didn't bother to look; he wouldn't be able to see them.
The door flew into the room from the force of the plasma grenades. Even before he saw anything moving in, Black Angle was already firing into the breech. He heard a gurgling scream, reloaded, and fired again.
Lok ducked as an explosion sent debris and pieces of Shir across his back and energy shield. Something inside had fired a rocket, and he wasn't going to let it get another chance. Lok dashed into the room, followed by Miyn and Fausla, and dove behind cover. The second rocket hit close to where the first rocket went off, sending Miyn sprawling out from behind cover. He landed in a heap, pulling himself across the floor behind some refuse. The lights were dim, but the flash of blue plasma, and green beams brightened the room. Lok saw that there were two of them, and heard his brother Mort shout a battle cry. Turning to his left, he saw Mort leap over the tables, sending chairs flying, the blue and green flashes reflecting off his azure armor. Mort roared in outrage, and raced across the room, trying to bide time for his compatriots. Lok took the opportunity to race across the room, jumping over scattered bits of rock, and knocked over chairs to get behind some cover. His shield hissed at him, deflecting small pieces of stone off away from his body, and occasionally a stray bullet. He looked up from his new position. Good, I'm behind the enemy. Arch prepared to charge.
They came through the hole so fast that 84 could barely track them. He got two with his rocket launcher, including the damn red one. It wasn't dead, but looked like he wouldn't be having any more trouble from it. Dropping the rocket launcher, he reached over and grabbed his shotgun. Shingen was doing a fine job pinning down the other blue ones, but they outnumbered the two of them 3 to 1. Glancing up, Black Angle saw one of the blues leap onto a table, bellowing, and lunge at him. He stepped out in front of the beast, kicked it in the stomach, spun with the impact, and kicked the creatures weapon from its hands. On the return, he dropped to one knee, and pressed the barrel of his gun up under the creature's chin, where an opening laid between its mandibles and its mouth. The blast sprayed the creature's head against the inside of its helmet. The beast slumped to the floor, as 84 rolled behind another table, 10 feet farther forward than his previous position. Glancing up, he saw Shingen take down another one of the blues. This wasn't right; they were going down too easy. Why were they so desperate to get past us? The Spartan tried to figure out the motives behind the hasty actions of the elites, and failed to notice that one had slipped behind.
Lok crept forward. He knew that if he were to move slowly, the Infidel's motion detectors would not perceive his presence. Sliding over debris, and scattered stone he slipped even closer. He could hear the white coated human breathing, hard rasping and panting.
Just a little closer.
The filthy thing must have heard him, because it stopped firing at Lok's brothers, and turned around. It was looking down though, and not at Lok, reloading its primitive weapon. Lok moved swiftly, covering the remaining gap in a series of bounds and landing not a breath from the human. The little man looked up at the last moment, terror distorting his face. Lok did not care. He swiped the man thing's weapon from his hand, and struck it across the face with the butt of his carbine. It fell to the ground, unmoving. Stepping over the body, Lok moved to face the demon. He was not afraid.
Black Angle turned around just in time to see another blue elite bound out of the darkness and knock Shingen against the table he was hiding behind. The young ONI scientist's body bounced against the hard surface, then fell to the ground with a thud. Damn it, 84 thought, now I have to baby-sit, too. He leapt out from behind his cover, ignoring the green energy beams coming from the elites, and body checked the new comer hard in the chest. It staggered from the impact, then growled and struck back. Black felt like he had been hit by a warthog, as he staggered backwards. Well, thought the Spartan, only one thing to do when it all goes bad. He reached onto his belt where his remaining grenades rested, and pulled one from his belt. He shot the elite in front of him with his shotgun, and then struck it across the face. It grunted and fell aside. No need to waste ammo, 84 thought objectively. He tossed the frag grenade behind himself at the elite's comrades, as he bent down, scooping up the little scientist's body. It's time to go.
Lok got back to his feet, blood trickling down his face. His shields had saved his life. He turned and looked to see where the Infidels had run to, but decided to let them go. There would be many of his battle brothers here tonight, no need to race off blindly after a few stragglers. Lok looked for his comrades, as the four other survivors moved quietly out from behind cover. His uncle lay strewn on the ground, breathing shallowly. Walking over to him, Lok bent over his broken form. Glancing over the older Sangheili's body, it was clear that he would not survive. Lok broke off one of the healing rods. It would not close all of Miyn's wounds, but it would make his end swift and painless.
"I will return for you soon, brother, do not lose faith." Lok whispered into his blood brother's ear. He would come back.
With a word, the five Sangheili moved. They ran through the chamber, and down through the door. Looking around, they searched for the grav chute. Since one did not exist, they took the stairs. On the top level, they stopped. They needed to damage the Infidel's weapon enough to keep it from firing. That meant destroying some of its housing. The higher up they went, the less armor around its barrel, and the easier it would be to damage.
Fausla opened the door tentatively. On the other side, he saw a number of blasphemers running past, heading towards their primitive lifts. They were probably heading down to the armory to aid their brethren. Fausla's blood froze when he heard a number of them stop and head for the stairs.
"They come, brothers. Prepare yourselves."
The door swung open, and the Sangheili sprang into action. The first human didn't even get a chance to scream as his face was burned into a black mess of charred flesh. His companions used the time they had wisely. Spreading out, the humans prepared. A blue plasma grenade landed amidst their number, scattering them down the hall and into the adjacent rooms. As it exploded, Lok and his brothers moved in. There were nine more marines, the two nearest lay writhing on the ground, their insides liquefied by the heat of the grenade. Faulsa struck another across the face, the sound of its neck snapping echoing down the small corridor. Lok jumped on another, the two falling onto the ground and rolling about, each trying to gain the upper hand. The remaining humans opened fire. They had a mix of rapid firing SMG's and battle rifles, tearing one of the Sangheili's body's apart. Lok crushed the skull of the human he was on, and rose to face the others. Their leader fired a shotgun into Faulsa, who rocked with the tremendous blow. The ugly man thing snarled and laughed as he stepped forward to finish off the Sangheili. Lok fired into one of the Infidels and lunged at the arrogant human. The man turned and fired at Lok, discharging his shields, but Lok got the moment he needed. With a cry of fury, he drove the back of his weapon up under the human's head in a wicked uppercut that sent it flying. The human twitched idly when it landed. Fausla regained his balance, and fired his plasma rifle into the other gathered humans. Oslo Telmee picked up his fallen brother's discarded plasma rifle and opened up with both. The humans screamed, and burned, leaving the scent of charred flesh and feces, as their bowels gave way under death's wringing hands.
Looking around, all the Sangheili waited, breathing hard. Not one remained without an injury, and they had to pause to allow all of their shields to replenish. Hearing footsteps and human yelling, the four Sangheili met eyes, and sped off in the other direction, anxious to finish their quest.