Author's Notes: Again, I apologize for having taken so long with this next chapter. It has been sitting on my hard drive, mostly complete, for over a month now. I have been attending specialized training for the Navy, however, and was unable to work on it. Here it is though. A nice little showcase of combat, inspired by some particularly close calls in the game myself.
0600, October 3, 2552, Local Time
Corridors, Echoes of Eternity
It took longer than the Master Chief would have liked for the fire teams to rendezvous on his position, but now that they knew where they were going, he wanted them together. At first, he had planned to keep the teams split up, and have them approach their target destination from different directions, in order to sew further confusion among the enemy ranks. But they didn't know the size or the composition of any force that might be guarding their goal, and the last thing he wanted was to have a fire team – or more than one – get pinned down and cut off from help. It would be better to stick together, assess the situation, and then make further plans.
"All right, Cortana," he said once the last team, Charlie, had arrived, "where exactly are we going?"
"It's a large compartment four decks above us and approximately two hundred twenty meters aft of our position," she replied. "There's nothing like it on the standard Covenant vessel charts that I have. It's located where several auxiliary equipment compartments and a secondary command and control center would normally be. I tried to pull exact specs for it, but Eternity cut me off before I could get more than fragmentary information. The partial label I got for it was 'Sacred.'"
"'Sacred?'" Mitchell echoed thoughtfully. "That doesn't make much sense."
"Don't the Covenant think their technology is sacred?" Lance Corporal Dupont put in.
"Technology that's based on that of the Forerunners, yes," Cortana confirmed.
"So that means that this AI might be partially based on Forerunner technology, as well as information taken from captured Human ships," John concluded.
"Not a very comforting idea," the AI said softly. "But that would be a reasonable assumption."
"What about security systems for the compartment?" Linda asked. "Were you able to pull any specs on that?"
"Negative," came the expected response. "I have no idea what we might be facing. We have to assume there's some sort of system in place though, otherwise, the Covenant would have already neutralized Eternity."
"We might need to get creative," John put in. "Mitchell, what kind of heavy ordnance do you still have?"
"Concussion and fragmentation grenades, shaped charges," the Gunnery Sergeant said. "Hall, you still got your launcher?"
"As usual, sir," the Marine replied. "Want me to unpack her, Master Chief?"
"Couldn't hurt," the Spartan said.
He waited until Hall had his rocket launcher unpacked and loaded, ready to go except for the safety guard over the trigger. He had no idea what they might be able to use it on; launching rockets in the confined corridors of a ship was often a one way ride straight to hell, but on a ship like the Eternity, he didn't want to leave any of his cards stuck up his sleeve. As soon as Mitchell signaled that his Marines were ready, John ordered them into an expanded version of the basic fire team formation. He would take point with Mitchell and Dupont, while Linda and Avery held 'six' – rearguard. The other Marines would be free to reinforce either the forward or rear positions, or break off to cover side corridors as needed. The whole formation was flexible; as they moved through the ship, passing corridors or compartments, turning corners, or moving up and down ramps, John could very easily find himself in the middle of the pack, while someone else took point. The key was that the point man covered the first possible threat vector he came across, while the others behind him moved onto the next one, until everyone was clear and he was able to rejoin the formation.
It was not the fastest way to reach their objective, but it was the safest, and the Marines were well acquainted with the procedure. They moved fluidly and confidently, always keeping their battle rifles pointed toward any possible attack, careful not to bring their own companions into their line of fire.
They found no Covenant for the first several minutes. On the next level up, a lone Grunt wandered down a side corridor, oblivious to the Humans. It didn't even have a chance to realize it was dead before Dupont put a single round between its eyes at almost twenty five yards.
"Nice shot, Dupont," Mitchell said. "But next time, wait until we have a chance to make a quieter kill. The last thing we want is to broadcast our position to any of his buddies that might be hanging around."
The Lance Corporal actually blushed. "Sorry, sir," she murmured.
The third level up from their previous position was also clear, although they only had to traverse three corridors before they found a ramp up to the same level as their objective. When they reached the top of the ramp, John quickly spotted their first serious resistance.
"Hunters," he all but growled. "At least two, but I saw shadows from something around the corner."
"No way to take Hunters out quietly," Mitchell said. "The best way to do it is quickly."
Corporal Hall looked hopeful.
"Uh oh," Dupont quipped before she could think better of it.
"No rockets," the Master Chief said, noting that Hall looked considerably disappointed. "They're too close. Grenades won't do much good either."
"Could wait until their backs are to us," Linda said over John's helmet comm. "Hit them where there's no armor."
"No good," he said. "They've been set to guard this ramp. They're just standing there, blocking the whole corridor. We'll have to take them head on, but I'd prefer not to use several hundred rounds of ammunition in the process." He glanced to Mitchell. "Think you can get a shot at one of their necks while coming up the ramp?"
The Marine shook his head. "I'm good, but not that good." He nodded at Dupont. "That's her specialty."
"All right, Dupont, you're with me. As soon as your barrel clears the top of the ramp, make your shot. If you miss, call it out and start backing up. I'll cover you until you're clear, and then we'll find a spot to hold out until we can stop him."
"'k," she said uncertainly.
John checked to make sure he had a full magazine, got the ready signal from Dupont, then motioned for her to advance up the ramp. He moved right beside her, matching her slightly slower pace so that they would both acquire their targets at the same time. He kept his gaze fixed along the sights of his rifle, his eyes locked on the spot where he instinctively knew his weapon's target line ended. When he found his target, he wouldn't have to waste any time lining up his shot.
Suddenly, his barrel cleared the top of the ramp. He fired at the exact same moment as Dupont, their rifles making a single, loud report in the confines of the corridor.
The Hunters never knew what hit them. They'd been guarding the same spot for far too long, with no expectation of resistance. Their comparatively small brains didn't have a chance to process the visual image of a massive, iridescent green-armored Spartan and a much smaller, red-headed girl appearing at the top of the ramp – seemingly out of nowhere – before it was all over.
John put his round through the left Hunter's throat. Dupont put hers through the right Hunter's narrow helmet visor. John's target staggered around for a few seconds, spraying fluorescent orange blood, before crashing to the deck with the horrendous thud of hundreds of pounds of bone, muscle, and armor in freefall. Dupont's target simply fell face first right where it stood, stiff as a steel rod, leaving a colorful orange smear on the bulkhead behind it.
"Showoff," Cortana muttered on John's private comm channel.
"Clear," Dupont reported. There was no hint of the previous uncertainty in her voice now.
But even as she said it, John's motion sensors flashed red, and he heard the sound of running feet on the deck plates. Running away from them. "Cancel that!" he called. "We've got runners! Formation up! Dupont, cover right! Mitchell, you've got right point, I'm on left. Move!"
The formation moved as a single unit. Dupont pivoted to her right, her rifle already covering the corridor, ready to engage any opponent that showed itself. Mitchell instantly filled the spot she'd previously occupied, covering the right side of the corridor ahead as he brought his rifle up, while John covered the left. Behind them, the rest of the Marines advanced on their heels, keeping their rifles tucked until they had a chance to cover a clear threat vector. At the rear of the formation, Linda was facing away from them, covering their six, her armored form rendering the corridor impassible to any foe that wanted to overtake them. Avery was at her back, watching the formation, ready to tap the female Spartan when it was time for them to catch up.
John advanced as quickly as he dared, trying not to leave the Marines behind. If he'd been by himself, he would have darted ahead as fast as he could. The fleeing Covenant were probably on their way to warn more of their brethren, and they had to be stopped before that happened. But he couldn't break formation and leave the rest of his companions exposed, in case they came under fire from other directions.
A full four seconds after he'd given his commands, they rounded the corner, around which the contacts had disappeared. Already twenty meters down the corridor, two Jackals were running for their lives, holding their energy shields over the backs of their heads and shoulders in the hopes of deflecting any shots. A burst from Mitchell's rifle dropped one of them; it flopped around wounded on the deck until another burst killed it. John took a split second to line up his shot; his round hit the Jackal's shield emitter, disabling it. A second squeeze of the trigger put the creature on the deck under a purple rain of its own blood.
"That's it!" Cortana called. "That corridor up there, that leads to Eternity's central core!"
As if her words had summoned it, another Hunter stepped into view, its fuel rod launcher already leveled at them and glowing brilliant green. A yellow-armored Elite came right behind it, the bright blue-white glare of its energy sword contrasting weirdly with the verdant light of the launcher.
Mitchell did about the only thing he could do, given the situation. He emptied his magazine at the Hunter, all the while flinging every curse and oath in his book in the same direction.
John tried to place his shots more effectively, and while he saw orange blood start to run, the Hunter was still standing, and drawing a bead on them with its launcher. Some of his rounds ricocheted off the massive creature's armor and glanced off the Elite's shields, but it just raised its sword and howled in defiance.
"Fall back!" the Spartan started to yell, even as he realized that at least some of the Marines were about to die.
But his words were drowned out by a deafening roar, and a streak of orange flame flashed past his helmet, making his shields hiss from the heat. The Hunter disappeared in a gout of fire and molten deck plate as the rocket slammed dead center into its chest. The yellow Elite was flung backward out of sight.
"Whooooo! Momma, turn off the oven and pull out the roast, 'cuz somethin's burnin'!"
John turned his head a few inches to the right and saw the smoking barrel of Hall's rocket launcher poised just above his shoulder. "Good timing," was all he could think to say.
"Oo-rah, Marine Corps," Hall replied, and fell back to reload.
"Contact!" Mitchell called. "Lots of contact!"
The Master Chief faced forward again. At first, he couldn't see anything. Then he saw the shimmers of movement around the flaming crater the rocket had left. They were little more than shadows, but as one of them actually slipped through the flames, he recognized the distinctive and all-too-familiar form.
Cloaked Elites. Lots of them.