Asteroids. Spinning balls of rock hurtling through space at insane speeds, chock full of all sorts of useful minerals and ores, ready to be harvested by the first space-age species to manage to build a mine on one. Or something else. For eons, asteroids have been used as things other than just for mining. If one were to build, say, a barracks to house soldiers on one, one could design the station to be energy self-sufficient for a time by using the already available minerals inside the asteroid. And if one happened to be an almost inconceivably advanced civilization from millennia ago, such a station could last for an almost infinite amount of time, barely functioning on its lowest capacity. Silent. Waiting.
-----
“Alright, marines! It’s time for you to prove yourselves to the United Nations Space Command! This is the only chance you will get to earn your measly place on this ship! Am I perfectly clear?”
“Yes, sir!”
I watch traces of spit fly out of the sergeant’s mouth as he addresses the twenty or so marines assembled in the airlock. I have a good vantage point, standing behind him, to see the effect he was having on the soldiers. Because all of them have been through rigorous training, and some combat, I am disappointed. They had all heard the talk before, but it was tradition.
“This here is my good friend Lieutenant Cooper. He is a soldier who is my personal friend, and who advanced into the new Spartan IV program.” Taking my cue, I step up next to him, and he claps his hand on my shoulder. I am a foot taller than him, so he has to reach way up to do it, but he doesn’t seem to mind. His palm rests on my armor, right above the ODST text that adorns the bottom of my right shoulder, a reminder of a time past. “Through his service in battle, he has proven himself to be worthy. He is the example of the ultimate soldier!” The marines all look up at me with admiration and respect, and I heard a small snort in my ear. “He is your commanding officer on this mission. Treat him as you would treat a god! Follow his orders to the letter, marines! Am I clear?” he yells, looking each marine in the eye as his gaze swept across them.
“Yes, sir!”
“You drop in five!” With these final words, the sergeant walks out of the open airlock door, which slides shut behind him with a hiss of air. The closed airlock is dimly lit by yellow lights in the ceiling, which reflect dully off of the polished helmets of the men and women who stand waiting for my order. The UNSC marines wear the standard green body armor of their branch. It wraps around their legs, torsos and arms in many overlapping metal segments, with flexible black under armor showing in the gaps, with a helmet that covers the tops and backs of their heads. The visors reach over their faces and tints their somber expressions grey. An option to turn on my external speakers shows up in the top corner of my blue tinted Helmet User Display (HUD). I blink at it to turn them on, and the option disappears. My voice booms out of my helmet when I speak.
“Alright, marines! Do a last weapons check, then into your pods! Move it!” I shout, my amplified voice echoing across the small room. The marines jump, startled at my sudden yelling, since I have been silent the entire time. “Move!” I roar, and they scramble to check their weapons. They pull back the slides on DMR’s and Assault Rifles, checking that they have enough ammo to last the duration of our stay on the asteroid. Clicking and the sound of metal sliding and locking fills the airlock, bringing with it a sense of familiarity and comfort.
I do likewise, following my own orders. My magnum is in shining condition, sliding back smoothly and loading the rounds from the magazine as it always has. The reliable pistol is a steel grey, and it shines as I slide it back into my hip holster. I take the suppressed DMR off my back and do the same, checking the rifle over. Once I am satisfied that they are both in perfect order, I check my belt and left thigh. My large knife is still in place, along with my four frag grenades. I have plenty of ammo, stored in the backpack attached to my armor. I slide the DMR over my shoulder and next to my back, where it magnetically attaches with a small click.
“All good?” I ask, and receive a chorus of “Yes sir’s” from the marines. “Then into your pods!” I yell. They all run along the walls of the airlock, each to a person-sized indention in the metal. I do likewise, turning to my left. The blackness beckons to me, and I step into it gladly. The familiar tight space of the pod is almost like coming home. UNSC drop pods are small airtight containers, shaped like diamonds with flat tops. They are dropped from space and hurtle down to impact the ground below, where the soldier inside bursts out with the element of surprise. The entire front side is sectioned off into numerous dark tinted windows, the largest of which will be directly in front of my face when the door closes. My shoulders press into the sides of the pod, which are blinking with red and green lights. My hands automatically perch on the small areas of buttons and levers for the pilot. I hear a crackle as my helmet switches to private coms, and a small rectangle appears in the top right of my HUD, moving up and down at the noise on the new line.
One of my squad starts chuckling. “I love these missions!” Daniel says, and I can hear the head shake in his tone. His deep voice betrays his true age, which is years older than I am, even though you would never notice by the way he looks and fights.
“Those recruits never knew what hit ‘em,” the only female in our group joins in on the conversation. “Nice work, by the way, Mr. perfect soldier,” Tracey says, sarcasm dipping form her tone before she sobers up. “Though it’s a shame you will be leaving us for real this time, I will always think fondly of seeing you shout at people.”
“Thanks.” I chuckle. My three-man squad is a tight-knit group, as one would expect. I met them a while back on a previous mission, and we’ve stuck together since then. The com box on my HUD blinks and then re-appears, listing a different com channel. “Com silence, Singular,” a stern voice breaks into the conversation. “Drop in T-minus 30 seconds.”
“Sorry, Captain,” I say. I blink my status light blue on my visor. The others on my squad will see it and know that we will have to be silent. Two small circles on the very corner of my HUD both light green, from Daniel and Tracey signifying that they understand.
“Forgiven, now tell the marines to close those doors,” Captain Alfen says firmly. I hear a few people talking in the background, probably finalizing the logistics for our drop. “Put your serious face on, Spartan,” he tells me.
“Yes, sir!” I answer. I switch to the general frequency, so I am broadcasting to the marines who are in their respective drop pods. My training kicks in, and all traces of humor are wiped from me, leaving behind cold calculation. I’m in battle mode, no joking anymore. Everything is sifted through my brain, noted, and analyzed.
“Doors close on my mark, marines!” I bark. “And do not blast your doors on the surface until I give the order. Understand?”
A “Yes, sir” chorus makes its way from the other pods into my helmet.
“3, 2, 1, mark!” I yell. Up near my head is a small handle, sticking out horizontally towards my helmet. I reach up and grasp it, pushing it upwards, where it clicks into place against the wall of the pod.
With a loud hiss of escaping air, a black door slides from the floor. It attaches into the ceiling of the pod with another hiss, locking into its airtight seal. The large black tinted windows are given a blue shade through the edges of my HUD. The edges of my visor flicker, and the normal altitude, distance, and scope options are replaced by other icons. There is a spinning model of the pod that sits in the bottom left, as well as a small box on the bottom right of my view that lists thruster fuel as a small text feed lists general status reports as my armor links in to pod’s systems.
Rule number one of being an ODST: no claustrophobia. The drop pods are coffins for many who stepped into them. Even if they aren’t for you, they are scary as heck at first anyway. The mic in my helmet crackles softly and the com box flickers as it switches coms. A ship technician, speaking to us from the bridge, starts a drop countdown.
“5,” I shift my stance slightly into a more comfortable position. “4, 3, 2, 1.” There is total silence for a moment, as if time itself had stopped.
“Drop-” The last word hasn’t even been finished when everything vanishes from view. My stomach shoots into my throat as I am released from the belly of the ship into the grip of gravity. The view out the windows turns into a dizzying swirl of blacks and whites, and I let the pod autopilot stabilize the fall. The view sharpens, and I look out. A flatter box appears next to the model of the pod on my HUD, showing a view of all of the other pods in relation to mine on a small grid. We come from the bottom of the UNSC Indomitable, an old and reliable cruiser that has recently been refitted. Its huge silhouette blocks out millions of tiny stars as it moves slowly in orbit around our destination, which lies far below. It turns at just the right angle so I can see the port lights wash over the white name painted on the grey hull.
I look away from the receding ship to the expanse of space. A familiar sight for any soldier that served for enough time in the UNSC, it stretches on in every direction, interrupted only by the Indomitable and the stars. I look down, and got my first glimpse of asteroid Omega-7485. Instantly, I know why they wanted to drop us in. It’s huge, easily the size of a small moon, more of a planetoid than an asteroid. It is completely grey, pitted with numerous large craters, and I can see where the colorless horizon curves from my vantage point above it. The whole asteroid is swathed in large shadows, making it difficult to see anything with real clarity.
Everything is going well, so far. Because this is a training mission, we were told that detected Covenant Insurgent contacts inside the small Forerunner station are minimal, and that we are to expect little resistance. We want to test the recruits’ mettle, get them used to the ODST way of things, not risk killing them. Because the station we will be infiltrating is underground, I can see no trace of anything on the surface. The Indomitable had seen a few Covenant entering the asteroid from a point not too far from where we will land, and that will be our entrance point.
I tap a few things on the controls with a finger, and I see the model of the pod on my HUD tilt back to being completely vertical. Just as I am starting to become optimistic, warning lights flash on the inside of my visor, lighting the whole thing red. A loud beep sounds repeatedly, in time with the flashing of the warning messages. White text scrolls across the inside of my visor.
CAUTION: Shield technology detected. Impact in fifteen seconds. Deadly impact is 62% probable. Structural integrity compromise of Pod 8A093-B is 98% likely. On the right side of my HUD, a series of horizontal bars with listed numbers starts to scroll vertically, with a green line falling through them towards the dangerously close bottom.
I swear loudly. Why had we not been warned? Had the shield not been detected from the ship in the preliminary scans? I access the feed from one of the pod's external cameras, and though the gritty feed I see it. A thin orange layer is floating above the planet’s surface, shimmering as it suddenly appears, barely discernable through the black and grey of the surface. This is really, really bad. If we impact the shield with enough force, it will mean a quick death. My fingers yank the controls upwards, firing the bottom stabilizers at max, a string of profanity whispering from my lips. I brace myself as the green line hit the bottom of the bars on the altitude counter.
First there is a flash of white that lights up the inside of my pod, so bright that even after my visor automatically polarizes to protect my eyes, I am still blinking away painful spots in my vision. It is accompanied by a tremendously loud smashing sound, and my pod wrenches to one side, the model spinning drunkenly on my HUD, and I completely lose all semblance of direction. The other box next to it shows the other pods being flung about, the grid flickering as it does its best to keep up with each one.
Instantly, more warning messages flash up onto the inside of my visor, and my shield bar flashes a dangerous red. Numerous portions of the pod model flare crimson, informing me of the structural damages my pod has sustained. The bottom has been completely smashed inward, and one side of thrusters on the outside of the pod has been obliterated, leaking air into space, spinning the pod dangerously. With the streamlined figure of my pod completely gone, it tilts to one side. Something on my HUD catches my eye, and I look back out the window. I manage to catch a glimpse of another pod, which is hurtling towards me. Or, rather, I’m hurtling towards it. I swear once more, but the sound is lost over the warning beeps inside my helmet.
My fingers dance across the unresponsive controls as I fight the damaged pod into doing what I want. Thankfully, the side of thrusters not damaged with the shield impact is the one closer to the other pod. I grunt as I fling my pod in the opposite direction, fighting to try and stabilize the pod to no avail. I’m now spinning out of control, the leaking thrusters throwing the pod in every direction. I can’t get a clear glimpse of anything out the windows, and I can only hope that I am not close to hitting another pod. I press a few more buttons, managing to at least slow the spin.
The next pod that flashes past is about as intact as mine, but is falling askew on one side. Someone inside is trying to right the pod; I can see the jets of air spurting off from either side. There’s a bright flash, and I see a different pod in the distance break apart as my view spins past it, ripping itself apart in a storm of metal shards. A dot on the grid on my HUD flickers before disappearing. I do a quick check of the rest of the pods as I rotate again.
Out of the twenty-five pods that had been dropped from the Indomitable, only ten remain, including mine. All are in bad shape. I swallow as the altitude bars pop up on my HUD once more. The green line is still falling towards the bottom. The last bar reads “Impact”.
I work the controls on the pod once more, hoping that the top is as intact as the spinning model shows. I’ve survived the shield, but none of that will matter if I can’t slow down. I’ll become another crater on the surface of Omega-7485. Finally, the controls yield, and there is a loud grinding noise. My pod shakes, and the top segment of the model flies away, letting a large four bladed rotor unfurl from the top of my pod.
My gut is thrown up into my throat once again as the blades on top of the pod activate, spinning out above me, slowing my fall drastically. I breathe a sigh of relief once my organs are all back in the right place, seeing the green line slow in its decent. It’s much closer to the bottom now, and my eyes flick over my HUD to check the condition of the other pods. I’m happy to see that all but two of the remaining pods have also activated their rotors, and are now slowing near to my pod. The other two doomed pods rocket out of sight, their respective dots disappearing.
A message pops up next to the altitude counter. Rotor activated. Impact in sixteen seconds. A survivable, if rough, landing. The grey horizon line of Omega-7485 is coming rapidly closer, in tandem with the falling green line. I brace myself.
-----
I reach up, and find the handle near my head with my hand, a motion made extremely uncomfortable my buffeted frame, bend in the damaged bod. The red warning messages about structural integrity are still clinging to the inside of my visor, along with my fizzling shield as it recharges. Everything aches. All of my joints seem like they have been dislocated and then put back in place. My bones seemed to throb painfully with every breath, though the pain is receding quickly. I feel small pricks of pain dot my arms and legs. My suit has started to administer pain killers directly into my bloodstream. I feel bad for the marines who don’t have this benefit.
I pull downward hard on the handle, and am exposed to the surface. The small explosive charges that line the door go off simultaneously, blasting the door outwards and upwards. In the low gravity, the grey door goes spinning off into the blackness of space, and I step out of the pod. The magnets in my boots cling to the surface of the asteroid, letting me stand upright without having to worry about flying away. When my armor touches the space outside, it warms up to a comfortable temperature, the gels and microfibers inside regulating the heat to keep me alive. A small icon, a bar showing how much breathable air I have left in my suit, pops up in the top left corner of my visor, right next to my shield meter.
As my helmet disconnects from the pod’s communications, the red warning lights and annoying beeping sounds disappear, leaving my field of vision thankfully clear. I take in my bleak surroundings. Pods litter the grey asteroid surface around me, each inside their own crater. Most have landed right side up, if at a funny angle. The black outside of most of the pods are dented and steaming, still bleeding off heat from our collision with the orange shield high above. I am glad to see that all seven that I had seen trigger their blades are sitting, relatively undamaged around me. The other pods were not so lucky. Pieces of broken metal lie strewn in every direction, protruding form the rock surface like black teeth. No one survived that.
Another pod to my left shudders as its door goes flying off. The normally near deafening sound is reduced to a dull thump as the sound vibrates through the ground and into my helmet. Small pieces of metal twinkle in the starlight as they are carried by the force of the door, expanding in a sphere from the pod. I am relieved to see the familiar ODST suit with dark green highlights step out of the blackness. Tracey shakes herself once and turns to me, her dark visor hiding her face. I don’t let my feeling show in my body language, but I wave a hand up and down my body in the hand signal for ‘Armor status?’ Radio silence is still key; we don’t want to alert any of the Covenant who might be looking for any radio signals.
Tracey makes a circle with her index finger and thumb, with the other three fingers pointing upwards. At the same time, one of the two status lights in my helmet winks green. I make the hand signal back at her, and then motion towards the other pods. Her status light blinks green again, and she runs off towards the pod nearest to her, bouncing in practiced motions in the lower gravity. I turn to a different pod and do the same.
The first pod I come to has landed in the opposite position from mine, with its door facing downwards. The top of the pod and door are smashed, probably from another piece of debris that had fallen on top of it after it had landed. The ruined top keeps the emergency hatch on the top from opening, pinning the occupant inside. I skid down the hard side of the crater, using a hand on the side of the slope to keep my balance, looking the pod over once I get to the bottom. I pry a small gap in between two exposed pieces of the pod, using my above average strength, and some assistance from my MJOLNIR Gen. II armor, and peer inside. Sensing the darkness, my visor tints a greenish hue. Seeing my helmet block the light from the gap, the person inside leans towards me. When the marine inside sees it is me, he mouths something under his visor, and motions to the door.
I nod, and unsheathe my knife from its sheath on my thigh. The very edge of the blade glows a bright blue as I unsheathe it, the plasma inside coming to life. I stick it into the gap and shear off a piece of metal, small spots of liquified metal spiraling off in all directions. After a minute or so of work, the marine squeezes out of the gap I had created. He tries to look cool and unfazed, but I can see his hands shaking slightly under his green gloves. I motion towards my helmet with a hand, and he holds up all ten of his fingers.
He has ten minutes of air left, according to his signal. I point to another pod a dozen yards away, and motions prying something apart with my hands. He nods, and runs off towards the pod I had designated, where Tracey is, to see if someone was inside and provide assistance.
The next pod I go to has a damaged door, but the occupant has activated the top emergency hatch and is climbing out, squishing themselves to fit through the small space. It is Daniel, who jumps to the grey ground, his deep purple highlights flashing in the low light. I greet him the same way I had Tracey. His status light goes green also, and he walks off to help someone out of another pod. As I am helping the last marine of her smashed pod, it hits me. While I work to open the unresponsive door further, I take the opportunity to look around. I have not really gotten a good look at the landscape yet, as I have been busy helping the marines.
Grey rock, as far as I can see. Craters here and there, making a range of small to medium hills across the landscape. Space, dark and cold, stretches above us. Nothing obstructs it, not even the Indomitable from all the way down here. Countless stars stretch across the heavens, unimpeded. But the surface is lit, and the gravity is relatively close to Earth's something that should not happen on an asteroid this size.
Where was the light coming from? The gentle glow that makes it possible to see without night vision or using our helmet lights? There is no sun, no moon or planet for light to reflect off of. Why is the gravity so high? Is the Forerunner structure somehow lighting the entire surface of the asteroid, and changing the gravity? I file these questions into the back of my mind for another time. I have other priorities.
After all of the soldiers inside the pods have been freed, whether on their own or with assistance, we gather in a loose circle a few yards away. I sweep my eyes over the group, analyzing who had survived. All three of my squad are here, along with five marines, two females and three males. Each has about seven minutes of air left, enough to get us to where we would enter the Forerunner structure. i count myself extremely lucky to have such a large group, and with my squad all alive as well. I push the brief thoughts away, and move onto the situation at hand.
We have another problem. The Indomitable can’t pick us up with Covenant on the surface; they run too great a risk, now that the Forerunner shield has revealed itself; there are too many variables unaccounted for. We will, even with our small numbers, have to clear the facility ourselves to let the Indomitable have a chance to get at the surface. A blue arrow appears on my visor when I blink on the objective tracker. It points to the east, a mile or so away. If we run at a good pace, we can make it with time and air to spare. I deliver a series of rapid hand gestures to the rest of the group. They form into an arrow formation behind me, with me at the point. Tracey and Daniel are behind me, with the marines in the back. I have given the signal for ‘Weapons caution’, telling them to be wary, and to keep a lookout for anything suspicious.
We set off, following the arrow on my visor. The run is fast and brisk, but nothing we can’t handle. Even the marines make it up the semi-steep crater sides with ease. Compared to the runs we have been put through in training, and on a daily basis, this is nothing. We make it to the entrance in a little above five minutes.
It is a door, set into a large chunk of rock that juts out of the surface. It is silver, with no blemish or scar, and it glows slightly. Blue veins of power twirl this way and that inside the metal, the light pulsating at random. It is about eight feet high, giving me most of a foot to pass through with my augmented height. We stop a few feet away from the door. Tracey’s status light goes orange in my helmet. She is wondering what her orders were. I flash mine yellow, the color for ‘wait’ and make the matching hand signal for the marine’s benefit.
I step up to the door. There is no obvious button, no way to visibly open the door. I lean my body to every angle, careful not to touch the door. If this thing is booby trapped, I don’t want to get my hands blown off by touching it. Remembering the power in the shield high above us, I don’t want to risk it. Nothing. It is the same from every way I look at it. Blue streaks of glowing power, embedded in the silver rectangle, no scar or blemish that I can take advantage of. No way to avoid it now.
I reach my hand out slowly, and lay my palm flat on the metal. I spread my fingers wide to feel the most of the door that I could. The door pulses under my glove, giving off a feel of restrained power. I yank my hand from the door. A blue hologram appears where my hand has been. I take a reflexive step back at its instant appearance, my hands flying to my DMR out of reflex. I have it in my hands and aimed at the hologram by the time the first words start to scroll across it. My weight has shifted into a battle stance, knees bent and DMR stock pressed against my right shoulder. As it is, the hologram message is not what I was expecting.
“Please, enter the airlock. Welcome to the Arbosra Hospital for Wounded Military Personnel. Have a nice day,” It reads in perfect English. The words are a stark white, and stay on the door a bit before disappearing as quickly as they had come. Both Daniel’s and Tracey’s lights flash the same color. I flash back green and relax my stance, but I keep my DMR in my hands just in case. I step back, waiting once more for something to happen. I am not disappointed, but I am expecting the movement this time. From what the greeting message had read, this is an airlock. And airlocks open
The door slides downward silently at a slow and relaxed pace. It disappears into an invisible slot in the ground, vanishing from sight. Bright white light pours from the opening and onto my helmet. My visor polarizes again. I flash another green light to my squad, and step into the opening, cautious and with my DMR at the ready, pointing ahead of me. The room I enter is the same as the door. Silver, with blue veins of power running along the walls and ceiling. Unlike outside, I can actually see the source of illumination for this room. The stark lights are imbedded into the ceiling and walls, casting strange shadows on the ground from my body. The room is about the same size as the airlock on the Indomitable, able to fit twenty to thirty people. I can’t see a second door, just three walls to greet me.
My squad follows me in. Daniel is the first to step up beside me, looking around at the room from under tinted visor. His two suppressed SMGs are held in either hand, hanging by his sides. The last marine steps across the threshold, and joins the rest of our group inside the Forerunner airlock. There is a rumble and a jet of air, and everyone but me spins around to see the first door closing behind us, trapping us in this empty room. Daniel’s light flashes a question once again, and I flash back the ‘wait’ color without looking at him.
The entrance door locks back into the ceiling with a slam. There is a loud hiss, and my suit informs me that the room had been flooded with oxygen, and that it is now safe to take off my helmet. I don’t, but activate a different option on my visor. Small gaps in my armor open, sucking in and compressing the available air to replenish my lost stores. I also assume, since this is a hospital, that the outsides of our armor have all been disinfected. I have no way to be sure, since I can’t run a test, but it is logical. I also don’t see any way for air to enter the airlock, but I had heard it, and I trust that the Forerunner airlock has done its job. I turn to the rest of the group, seeing them all look at me questioningly. I blink on my external speakers.
“Maintain radio silence,” I say softly “Only talk if the person next to you can hear. No using the coms.” Daniel takes the cue and speaks back through his helmet.
“Understood.”
Tracey nods next to him. Tracey has her pistol in her hands, as her long sniper rifle is still attached to her back. Her pistol is a beefed up version of the standard, similar to my .50 Cal. Magnum, with large rounds and a long barrel. It's a powerful weapon, as it is the weapon Tracey has to fall back on if she isn’t in a position to use her sniper. At least my DMR and Daniel’s SMGs work at close range.
One of the male marines pushes a button on his armor, and the visor extending over his mouth slides upwards. His normal green visor is back in place, covering the of his face. His armor hisses as it deactivates its airtight mode. “Always hated those things,” He says softly. “Feels like I’m suffocatin’ in there.” He shakes his body out, getting rid of the rest of his fear, then settling naturally back into his combat stance. The tag on his chest plate reads “Rameson”. The other marines follow his lead. I nod once.
“What is this place?” One of the female marines- her tag read “Baler”- asks, still looking around. Tracey and Daniel look back to me for an answer.
“It’s a military hospital,” I answer, inclining my head slightly. “The Arbrosa Hospital for Wounded Military Personnel, or so the door said,” I answer in a half whisper, just loud enough for everyone to hear.
“A military hospital?” Tracey asks with a trace of disbelief in her tone. “What are the Covenant doing at an ancient military hospital?”
“Yes,” Daniel says softly, his voice rumbling. “And why is it so oddly defended? A shield of that power would rip anything apart that came close enough. And yet the surface was dotted with craters, and we made it through. Maybe artificial craters and a test of our technology? To see if we could make it to the surface?” I nod at the good train of thought, something that hadn’t occurred to me. It is also a bit unsettling. A Forerunner station that has been testing us? One that killed a dozen marines?
“We will have to see, but priorities.” I say, and turn my head to the marines. “Weapons caution marines. Silenced or suppressed weapons only. If you see any enemy contacts, take them out quietly.”
“Enemy contacts?” Another marine asked. Even with the question, she does as I had ordered, grabbing a black suppressor from her pack and sliding it onto the barrel of her Battle Rifle. “Where?” She glances around at the small room.
“This is an airlock,” I answer. “It enters to the rest of the facility. We will be seeing them soon.” There is a slow rumble, and the wall opposite the entrance door starts to descend, as if activated by my words. A hallway, the same height as the room we are in, stretches off ahead of us. It is lit in the same way, with lights embedded in the walls and ceilings.
I motion with two fingers forward. Being as silent as I can, I sweep smoothly forward into the hall, knees bent so I stay level. The marines and my ODST squad mates follow, weapons pointed over each other’s shoulders. The hallway is eerily silent. The bright lights reflect off of the silver Forerunner metal, and my visor polarizes slightly. We continue forward at a cautious pace, eyes peeled for any movement.
I come to a small indentation on the right of the hallway, what I assume to be an entrance to a room. I hold a closed fist over my left shoulder, telling everyone to stop behind me. I make another signal, telling my squad to cover the hallway and my back. I take a deep breath, and tense my body.
I pivot on the balls of my feet, so that I am facing the gap in the wall, my eyes taking in the inside in an instant. It is a medium sized room, with a large bed in the center, obviously the main focus of the design. The room is the same silver and blue style as the hallway, but the lights in the ceiling are softer, more of a gentle yellow. Two large machines stand to one side. Each is a box floating slightly off the ground, hovering by an invisible means. Both have tubes and electronic arms extending out of every side, tipped in silver blades or small nimble hands. They hang there silent and unmoving.
Two Grunts are standing over something that lays partially smashed on the floor, facing away from the doorway. Most of the broken object is obscured by the Grunt’s stubby stature, making it impossible for me to see the object of their scrutiny. Each Grunt stands almost up to my waist. They have short stubby arms and legs, with grey skin, scaly in appearance. They both wear yellow armor, which is wrapped around their torsos and groin. A huge gas tank is attached to their backs, shaped like an oblong pyramid, which obscures their small head from view.
I make a split decision, and assume that they haven’t heard me. I take a large step forward, silently gliding behind the Grunt closest to the door. I slowly reach up and put my DMR next to my back, where it attaches with a small click. At the sound the Grunt makes a confused noise in its high pitched voice. It starts to turn, but I don’t give it the chance. I grip either side of its small head with my hands, reaching around the gas tank. I feel the tubes and mask that fed the gasses in the tank to the Grunt, and I tighten my grip around them. With one movement, I whip my hands to the sides. The Grunt’s small neck brakes with a sickening crack, its head turning until it faces me. Its small black eyes are full of disbelief and shock looking right into my visor over its large gas tank. A burble emerges from under the mask, and the Grunt falls limp in my hands. I let it drop to the floor, discarded.
The other Grunt spins around, hearing the death of its comrade. A small, blue Plasma Pistol is gripped in its chubby fingers, and it jerks it up towards me in surprise, eyes widening. The tip of the weapon starts to glow green, a grating hum filling the air. It lets out a little squeak, and then I am on it. I send a fist rocketing straight into its jaw, a sharp crack as the bones in the Grunt’s jaw break. The Plasma Pistol tumbles from its grip, and I grab the falling Grunt before it can hit to the floor.
Crack. I drop it to the floor, twisted neck a lump of flesh. I flash a green status light, and hear small clunks as Daniel walks in behind me. I let him pace the room, as I kneel down to the ground, examining the object the Grunts had been inspecting on my entrance. Unlike I had first assumed, the thing wasn’t completely smashed. It was a sphere like object. It was a different version of the box-like devices in the room, with many tubes and mechanical arms. The bottom half of the sphere is completely smashed and plastered to the floor. I poke it with a finger, but it doesn’t twitch.
I grunt in disappointment and stand, turning. Daniel has put his weapons back into their respective holsters, and is examining the floating boxes, his head cocked to one side humming thoughtfully. He reaches out, and grabs one of the arms with a hand, extending it towards his visor.
Tracey takes a step into the room. I can see the marines still in the hallway, guns trained forward. Tracey grunts and kicks one of the dead Grunts with a foot. “Covenant,” she grumbles. “Well, here they are.” I motion back into the hallway. “Nothing else,” I say softly. Daniel grunts again, and walks back into the hallway.
“Unresponsive,” He tells me as I fall into step in front of him. “Have gone into some kind of stasis mode, I can’t do anything to them, and they won’t move.” He shakes his head slightly, in disappointment. Daniel always enjoys new toys to tinker with. We pass more empty rooms, identical to the first, minus the orb like device. Just floating boxes, unresponsive, and spotless beds. As we pass, I flash my gun into each one on the left, checking for enemies. The marines do the same on the right side of the hallway, but they see nothing as well.
The silence and the emptiness are starting to frustrate me. After the two Grunts, we know there are other Covenant somewhere, but they have vanished into thin air. The hallway seems to stretch on endlessly, just a long parade of empty rooms and floating boxes. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, but is only forty minutes, as my visor clock smugly informs me, I see a different door in the distance. This one takes up the entire hallway, its corners touching each wall. Unlike the other doors we have encountered, which look like gaps in the walls, this one clearly has glass that takes up a large chunk of the door. It is tinted a blackish grey, making it impossible to see the other side. A small chunk of silver is sticking out of the center of the glass panel, and I approach it. I hold a fist over my shoulder, and hear the soldiers behind me stop. With no other apparent way to open the door, I put my palm flat against the small silver box. It hums under my glove, and a small ding comes from a hidden speaker.
“Welcome to the Hub of this facility. Please, have a nice day.” A female voice, soft and smooth, announces these words from the box. I hear Daniel chuckle at the voice from behind me. The door slides smoothly to the side, to reveal another room. One already occupied with Covenant. I spot five Grunts, which each shriek and hold out their Plasma Pistols as I enter. I spot three Jackals, who look up, startled.
The bird like Jackals are tall, but not as tall as a normal man, and extremely skinny. They have a sickly yellow skin, with a thin face that ends in a brown beak. They are clothed in blue armor, with a chest plate that covers most of their frame. They have blue forearm and shin guards. One of them squawks and slaps the armor on its arm. There is a whoosh of plasma, and a circle extends from the section of armor. It grows until it covers most of the Jackal’s body, glowing and rippling blue. A small notch is cut into one side of the shield and the Plasma Pistol gipped in the Jackal’s other hand fits in this slot as it points the weapon at us. The other Jackal’s do the same, leveling Plasma Pistols at us.
There is one Elite in the room also. It stands as tall as I do, completely covered in the same blue armor. It had thick and muscular arms and legs, and it has a Needle Rifle gripped in its four fingered hands, the long pink spikes on the top vibrating ominously. The Elite’s long head is topped off with its four pronged mouth, which open in a loud roar, exposing its sharp teeth. The covenant are all standing behind large panels of metal, which jut out of the floor. Each had a screen on one side, and they ring around the circular room like a target. The bull’s-eye is a large hologram sphere which floats above the floor in the center of the room.
Seeing them first, before anybody else, I yell “Contact!” Having no time to try and run to the nearest panel, I make a split decision, blinking at an option on my visor. The Thruster Pack on the back of my suit activates, shoving me forward at in incredible speed, the edges of my vision blurring. I smash my shoulder into the panel as I dash forward, my armor leaving a large dent, my shields flashing yellow, and I hear a whine as the Thruster Pack runs out of energy. A small circle starts to slowly fill back up in the corner of my visor, showing me the time until I can use the ability again.
At the roar of the Elite, the Grunts and Jackals all retreat behind their own cover. Green blobs of plasma splash against my panel and the doorway, melting away small chunks of steaming metal. I slid my DMR from my back as Daniel lunges into the room. He impacts the same panel that I am behind with his back and a loud thump. He takes out an SMG and starts rattling off bullets around the panel in the direction of the Covenant without looking, forcing them to duck behind cover and stop firing. Tracey and the marines race into the room as the Covenant pause their hail of plasma. They each dive behind other panels, taking precious cover.
The door slides shut behind them, clicking into the wall. “Thank you for visiting,” The same voice from before says. Daniel ducks his gun back behind cover, ripping out the spent magazine and replacing it with another from his pack. The second SMG seems to fly into his hand, almost too fast to see. The Covenant return fire. The green plasma once again impacts the panel we are hiding behind. The Elite, with his Needle Rifle, aims towards my cover. Small pink spikes impale themselves into the wall just to my side, glowing and arching with energy. The metal behind my back heats up from the plasma impacts, but my suit cools my body off to keep it at the right temperature. The air is buzzing with the scream of the Needle Rifle, flying plasma, and the discharge of our own weapons.
I lean my head out very slightly, and see Tracey raise her pistol. There is a crack and a flash, and a spray of purple blood explodes from behind one of the opposite panels. A dead Grunt, its head practically blown off, falls to the side. One of the other Grunts screams and panics, running out from cover, flailing its arms madly.
I sight it down my scope and squeeze the trigger. Pop, pop. The rifle kicks into my shoulder, but the two shots are on target. One hits the grunt in the arm, spinning it around. The other, while it is spinning from the force of the previous shot, hits it dead center, punching a thin hole though its chest plate. The Grunts slides to the ground against one of the walls, a slimy trail of purple blood lying in its wake.
“I got a Jackal advancing on my position! Reloading, need help!” One marine, to my right, the side that Daniel is on, madly scrambles to reload his empty DMR. A Jackal, with its shield raised in our direction, sneaks behind another panel, steadily getting closer to our position. The Plasma Pistol in its hand is vibrating, ready to release a super charged shot.
“Got it!” Another marine, this one on the left shouts out in response. Pausing from shooting over to the other side of the room, he points his Battle Rifle in the Jackal’s direction. Right as it crosses in between two more panels, there are two rapid series of shots, and the marine of my right jerks back from his rifle’s recoil.
The shots are well aimed, and hit the Jackal’s hand, right where it is holding it in the notch in its shield. It sheiks in pain and stumbles backward, its pin wheeling arms making the shield rotate. The reloading marineslams his magazine home and puts four quick shots into the Jackal’s chest plate, and it collapses with a last shriek. The shield coming from its arm sputters and dies. Another Grunt on the other side of the room goes down in a spray of liquid, riddled with holes from Daniel’s SMG’s.
“Grenade!” The marine to my right, who is in cover with Tracey, shouts. A blue glowing ball arcs over the room, coming straight towards them. Tracey and the marine dive towards my cover, and Daniel moves in the same direction to the next panel over with two more marines, giving them room to slide in. The marine hits my shoulder with his, disrupting my shot. The bullet that was aimed towards the Elite’s head, who had just poked it out of cover, went wide, hitting him in the arm instead. The Elite’s shields flare bright blue around his body as they absorb the impact. He ducks back into cover, and I growl under my breath.
The plasma grenade lands and sticks to the wall behind the abandoned panel. It explodes, sending a flare of heat in all direction. The blue ball of fire is blinding, and I am once again glad for my visor. Once the fire clears, it leaves a large black scorch mark on the floor and wall.
“Another Grunt down!” One of the grunts is shrieking in pain and panic, its gas tank leaking green gas from where it had been punctured. The high pressure flings the Grunt about in the air like a deflating balloon, until it explodes with a bright green flash and rain of purple gore. One more Grunt remains.
I can’t see any enemies, and move to a new position. I lunge at full speed to move two panels over, but am not quick enough. The Elite roars as it sees my movement, and levels its Needle Rifle in my direction. My shields flare yellow, and I watch as the shield meter on my visor drops to half. The shots interrupted my momentum, but I still complete the lunge under another panel, just as more plasma rains on my position.
I look down at my black chest plate. Two glowing purple spikes stick straight out from the shield, crackling purple electricity arcing between them. I grip one of them with my glove, feeling it humming beneath my hand, though my shield takes the energy. I pull it out with a sharp movement and a flare of yellow as it slides out. I pull out the other needle in the same fashion. I lay the needles carefully on the ground. I duck back as another needle whistles past my panel and hits the back wall. Small purple chips pellet my armor, bouncing off my shields. I get back to my work, and smash the needles under my heavy boot. They shatter, bursts of electricity crackling and then dispersing on the ground
A status light winks in my helmet. I blink back a green to Daniel. Thank goodness I didn’t get struck by more than two. Get hit with too many needles at once, and they explode, causing an instant death, even with energy shields.
“Frag out!” Daniel yells, and pulls the green sphere off of his chest, where it was attached. He pulls the pin, and lobs it over his head across the room. There is a squawk of confusion and before the grenade detonates, and I feel the concussive force push against my armor. The area where the grenade lay is now blackened and smoking from the explosion. A burnt and mutilated Jackal falls, shield dying on the floor.
I take stock of the situation. We have suffered no casualties, and only minor injuries. As I watch, a marine cracks out five shots in rapid succession, sending the last Grunt into the wall with a thud. One Elite and one Jackal remain. The firing from their side of the room stops as they both duck back into cover.
“Close in!” I yell the order. I begin to stalk around the edge of the circle of panels, towards the other side, and the others do the same on theirs, closing the noose on the last surviving Covenant. There is a shout from the other side, and I see Daniel lash out with an arm.
He hits the Jackal that just appeared mid center with his armored forearm. The blow sends the Jackal flying into the air. A female marine’s DMR barks and the Jackal spins from two more bullets, causing blood to rain onto her head. Unfazed, the marine calmly takes out the magazine from her weapon and inserts another fresh one in its place. One last Elite. Not on their side, so it must be on- My train of thought is interrupted by a loud roar. There is a flash of blue as the Elite dashes out from behind cover, where it was hidden by the panel. Its Needle Rifle lies on the floor, out of ammo.
An armored fist rockets into my chest, sending me backwards into the wall, shields flaring. My DMR falls from my hands, clattering to the ground. I shake my head, glad that my shields absorbed the impact, but my shield breaks with an ominous crackle of dying energy. The Elite celebrates its small victory with a laugh. It’s all the time I need. I whip out my knife with my right hand, and lunge at the Elite, the edge of my blade shining blue. It sees my movement, and jumps back out of the way of my swipe. I smile under my helmet. The Elite lands right in between the gap of two panels, giving the other squad members a clear line of sight.
CRACK! The gunshot is deafening, and a fine spray of blood spatters against my helmet, leaving small droplets all along my visor. The Elite spins to the side as the force of the shot slings it up and away from me, slamming its corpse against the wall. It’s head lolls unnaturally to the side, a huge hole blown into the side and back of its head, leaving most of it a bloody pulp. The shields around its body sputter and die.
I wipe my visor clean with the back of a hand and look over to the other side of the room. Tracey is kneeling on the ground, one calf flat on the floor, the other leg bent at the knee. Her sniper is held to her shoulder, the long black barrel smoking. She cocks back the slide with a hand, and a single spent shell clatters to the floor. I simply nod to her, showing my thanks. She returns the gesture, and stands. She slides the sniper over her shoulder, letting it attach to her back. She pulls her pistol back out with her hand and lets it dangle loosely at her side.
“Room cleared!” I shout. As I walk to the center of the room, I grab my DMR with a hand and sling it onto my back. I stop next to the spinning hologram globe I had noticed as I had entered the room. It is large and blue, and it probably had a diameter near my wingspan if I held my arms out straight to either side. It spins slowly, and I notice a bunch of scars on the surface of the globe.
“It’s the asteroid,” One of the marines says. I nod, agreeing. “A control center of some sort.” The marine shrugs. He takes the ending of the firefight to swipe a new magazine into his Assault Rifle.
“Where there is a control center, there is a computer,” Daniel rumbles.
“I hope we didn’t mess up to much with our little fight,” Tracey says. She glances around at the room. Plasma burns and explosion marks litter the room. Bullet holes riddle the surface of each panel and the walls. Something electrical inside one of the panels sparks and hisses. The dead Covenant bodies are strewn in every direction, purple and blue blood sparkling.
I nod. “Computer?” I ask, looking around at the room. Maybe it is voice activated. There is a scratching noise, like feedback from a speaker. It soon fixes itself, letting a clear female voice filter into the room.
“Yes?” She asks, her voice coming from the direction of the sphere. I chuckle. I hadn’t actually thought that that would work. Something was going right after all.
“Computer, show the layout of this station,” I say, directing my voice towards the sphere.
“As you wish,” The computer responds. The blue hologram flickers, and the surface of the asteroid becomes more transparent, letting the inner workings of the facility to show through. A huge network of tunnels and rooms make up the entire inside of the asteroid. They twist and turn around each other in a large jumble.
“It’s huge,” one of the marines breathes. “It makes up the entire asteroid.”
I get right to next question. “Computer, show all signs of life on this station.”
“As you wish,” The computer responds once more, and the globe flickers again. Small red dots appear in some of the rooms. There is a series of green dots in one of the larger rooms, which I suppose is us. Most of the other life signs are fairly spread out throughout the facility, dispersed across the huge area. But there is a huge block of orange a few rooms below us. It takes up an entire room, this one bigger than the one we are in. Just as I am about to ask another question, the screen flickers and changes. The orange block has grown, and is spilling into the hallway next to the room it previously occupied. The red dots are all fleeing the hallway, moving into the rooms father away from the orange block. The hologlobe flickers again, and the scene changes once more. The orange is now spilling through the room the red contacts were in. They have all disappeared.
A deafening siren pulses from the walls. “WARNING! Parasite containment compromised!” The message repeats over and over again over the siren.
“Computer!” I shout. “What’s going on?” As I am asking, the globe flickers again, and the orange contacts have almost doubled in their reach, expanding into every room on their floor, two floors below ours. Everyone in our group is back on alert, guns all held at the ready, pointed at every door.
“Parasite has escaped containment,” The computer continues calmly over the siren. “Station self-destruct immanent.”
“What?” I start. “Abort!”
“Denied. Parasite containment is top priority. Stand by for self-destruct.” We all watch as the orange dots spread to the floor beneath us. There is a muffled explosion and the floor vibrates under our feet. “We need to get out of here.” I look at the floating hologram of the facility. “The quickest way outside is the way we came in.”
“I’ll try the door,” Tracey says. She runs over to the glass door, and puts her hand on the center panel, in the same fashion as I had when we entered. She waits for a second, but nothing happens.
“Please, do not attempt to exit the room. Station is now in lockdown,” The computer informs us, with the same near-monotone voice.
I look around. I have a sneaking feeling I know what the parasite is, and a cold feeling drops in my gut like a stone.. I hope I am wrong. “Defensive positions!” I bark out suddenly. “I want every single door covered in this room! Nothing comes in or goes out!”
“Yes sir!” The marines shout. We all duck behind panels, the same ones we hid behind before. There are three doors into the room. The one we came through, one across from that, and one on the wall that I am facing. There is another explosion below us, and the floor vibrates again. The globe in the room flickers, and now the orange dots are spreading into every floor in the station, an impossibly large area. They are on our own floor now, on the other side of the asteroid. There are no red dots left. There is total silence for a moment, except for the siren and the warning message. No more explosions rattle the floor, no more screams. My feeling of dread grows and grows.
I jump as the computer speaks again. “Self-destruct in two minutes.” It goes silent, and the globe flickers again. The orange is getting closer to us.
I blink on a timer in the top right side of my visor. It counts down from two minutes, keeping pace with the timer that the walls are now blaring, on top of the siren. The feeling of tension in the room is palpable, and I begin to sweat under my armor, gripping my DMR harder in my hands. The globe flickers, and the orange are now right outside our doors. The way we came into the station is now covered also, the orange coming up from another entrance to that hallway. The door across from the door we entered in leads to a clear hallway, which ends in a dead end. This room is the only access to that hallway. If worse comes to worse, we can at least make a final stand there. I can only hope that the last room is some way to escape. As it stands, we are all going to die. Either by the parasite, or the ensuing self-destruct of the station. I wait.
Something smashes into the door across from me. The glass buckles, but holds against the pressure. Immediately, every gun in the room is trained on the door. Tracey is kneeling again, her sniper in her hands. There is another crash, and the door buckles once more, but holds. Cracks appear in the tinted glass, spider webbing outward from the center. It won’t hold for much longer. There is a final smash, and the door explodes inwards. Shards of glass pepper the front of the closet panels. Something stumbles into the room.
One of the marines screams and empties his magazine into the thing right as it is coming through the doorway. Its movements are jerky and halting, almost like it is being controlled by some outside force, not moving of its own violation. They entire magazine of Assault Rifle bullets rip it to shreds, and yellow, thick, puss-like blood splatters against the wall. There is a boom as Tracey’s sniper goes off. My worst fears are confirmed. The thing that stumbled through the door way is an Elite. Or, it used to be.
All of the Elite’s skin is now a sickly yellow. Its armor is peeling off of its body, sections already fallen to the floor. One arm is huge and bloated, with too many fingers to be normal. Each finger is long, and has blood encased on them, like they have been used as a whip. The other is skinny and looks like a deflated, misshapen balloon. The legs are large and thick, more so than when the Elite was alive. Its head has been split down the center of the forehead, and small stalks have grown out, each tipped with small red puffs. The jaws are all hanging down on its face, nearly touching its chest. The bullet holes in its bulk leak a yellow pus, smelling like rotting meat. The horribly mutated Elite falls to the floor, dead.
As I see that my nightmare has come into reality, a memory surfaces, strong and lighting fast. I push it down, I will remember it later. Right now, we need to get out of here. There is no surviving these things. “Fall back!” I roar, and run for the other door. The others look at me in surprise, and all but one follows me. I run at the door at full speed, and use my Thruster Pack to throw my shoulder into the door like a football player going at an insane speed, the edges of my vision blurring. It thankfully shatters, and I go sprawling into the hallway.
The marine closest to the other door doesn’t move fast enough. Something flies through the gap in the doorway, and hits him in the face. He goes down screaming, dropping his gun to rip at the small creature who has attached itself to his head. It is like a small squid, with a sphere like body, and many small tentacles. It is the same sickly yellow as the skin of the Elite we killed moments ago. Each small tentacle is tipped with the same small red puffs. The marine continues screaming as the thing burrows into his mouth, sending tentacles down his throat and up into his head. His jaw cracks sickeningly as it has to widen to let the creature inside. His screaming stops.
His body starts to change, thrashing on the floor. His arms grow and shrink, bones breaking with each movement. His skin changes color under his armor, which creaks with his growing body. Small stalks rip out of his mouth and eyes, each tipped with small red puffs. Haltingly, he picks his gun off the floor and levels it at us, the weapon looking small in his large and boated hands. The transformation happened in a matter of seconds. I am the only one who sees this, as the others have stepped over me. I am facing the room, lying on my back, and my gut clenches in horror. I roll to my feet and turn down the empty hallway after my squad.
Behind me, thousands of the small creatures spill into the room from the ruined doorway. They each slide along the ground on their many tentacles, pulsating with a sickening noise. More of the mutated Covenant step into the room. One Elite was very clearly dead some time ago, as he only has a stump for a head, with a few flower like projections shooting out of his neck. Nevertheless, he continues into the room, like a puppet being pulled by strings. Most of the mutated Covenant clutch weapons in their hands, and they level them through the doorway at us as the smaller creatures rush around their feet. Plasma bursts from behind us, splashing against the walls and floor as it chases after us. The dead marine fires his Assault Rifle, and the shots ping off the walls around me.
“Don’t look back!” I shout, not even bothering to fire behind me. I focus all of my energy in pounding after the rest of our group, the silver walls flashing past me. The siren is still blaring annoyingly in the background, oblivious to our situation.
One of the marines ignores me, and turns her head. She screams and trips, falling to the floor on her stomach. I hate to do it, but I leap over her and keep running. The fallen marine is quickly over whelmed by the wave of creatures, flowing over her body like water. She bats one away in a panic, still screaming, but another attaches to her chest plate. Her cries increase in pitch and volume as it borrows through her armor and into her chest, blood spurting out of the open wound. I don’t look back as her screams stop.
The hallway seems impossibly long, and even at our breakneck pace, I can’t see an end. I see the marines faltering ahead of me. Even with our training, sprinting for this long would wind anybody. I am quickly gaining on them, my armor and augmented body giving me a huge speed advantage. My chest heaves and I am sweating under my armor, the cooling systems not quite able to keep up. I am pumping my legs and arms as fast as I can, keeping my gaze squarely on the back of the marine in front of me, the gap closing. The foreboding timer on my visor has lost about a minute, and the siren is still blaring through the hallway.
Another marine trips, but is able to keep his balance. I flash past him, and he is unable to build up his speed fast enough to catch up. He goes down as the huge wave of death behind us hits his him in the back. His screams only last a second as we leave him behind. The mutated marines behind us drop their weapons, but the Elites with the long distance Needle Rifles keep shooting. The dead marines sprint, impossibly fast on their powerful legs after us. I risk a quick look back, careful to keep my footing. They are gaining on us, slowly but surely, whip like hands and fingers trailing behind their broken bodies.
Three of our already small group are gone. Two males and one female, taken over and shooting back at us. Me, Tracey, Daniel, one male and one female marine remain, and still there is no end in sight as my timer continues to tick downward. We make it only ten seconds before we lose the last female marine. Needles whistle past me as the Elites behind us take their aim. They impact all around me, and one hits me in the arm. My shields flare, but I don’t stop, ripping out the needle with a hand as toss it over my shoulder. The marine in front of me is not as lucky. Nine of them hit her in various places, almost simultaneously. They all crackle and jump with electricity, and there is a high whine of power before they all explode. I leap through the purple fireball and what’s left of the marine. Heat slams into my armor, but I keep going.
Finally, the doorway is in the distance. It stands slightly ajar, darkness beyond it. Daniel makes it there first, and he heaves it open. He dashes inside. I see him on the other side with his hands on the door, ready to close it as soon as we are all through. Tracey flies through the doorway next, vanishing from sight. The last marine makes it through after her, scraping his shoulder on the doorframe. Something impacts my foot and I stumble, but keep my balance. My suit visor flashes read, informing me that something is burrowing through my shields, draining them nearly instantly. A torrent of pain explodes into my body, and I feel tendons and bone snap in my foot. I go down with a scream, slamming into the floor. My neck whiplashes and I see spots as my head impacts the hard surface. I turn over, crushing the thing attached to my leg, just in time to see one of the creatures flying at my face.
The impact slams my head back against the floor. Another hits me in the chest, and another. My vision goes white with pain as I am ripped apart from the inside out. Something is in my chest, in my brain. I don’t even get the chance to scream again before I die.
-----
I am floating. I can see nothing but darkness, feel nothing, but yet, I know I am floating.
I died. Of this I am sure. I didn’t make it to the door. Daniel’s form flashes into my vision, as he waves at me to go faster. I trip, I fall and I die. I don’t make it. And yet, here I float, in this darkness, with nothing but my final memory to keep me company. It replays over and over again, starting from when the first mutated Elite burst into the control center. The death of the first marine, and then the others one by one. Then I trip, and fall, and the scene restarts over again.
It wouldn’t have mattered anyway, even if I had made it. The timer on my helmet only had thirty seconds left on it when the creature hit me in the face while I was on the floor. Half a minute after I died, and Daniel, Tracey, and the last marine were dead too. Incinerated instantly in the huge explosion that contained the parasite. My last mission with them. Their last. A wave of sorrow hits me, blackening my vision and blurring my thoughts.
Is this death? An eternal replay of one’s last moments? I try to remember back farther, but my thoughts are scrambled, and the scene restarts over again, tearing my attention away from trying to remember. I am . . . I don’t even know who I am. I try to remember as I watch myself die once more. And then the Elite stumbles through the broken door, and the marine screams as he fires.
Was I, right before the station exploded, one of the mutilated corpses trying to break through the door to get to the others? Was I just cast out of my body in death, as the parasite took me over and used my empty husk as a puppet? The scene starts again, and these thoughts are whisked away. Then something changes. The vision pauses, right when I am leaping through the purple explosion in the hallway, right before I go down. Pain bursts across my conscience, scrambling, once more, any coherent thoughts I might have had.
“Savior Protocol activated. Please stand by for Rest.” The female voice comes from everywhere and nowhere at once. The paused instant fuzzes out, static rushing across its surface, obscuring the image. It vanishes, leaving me suspended in this darkness once again. I only have a moment to contemplate the strange accent the voice put on the word “Rest” before I am whisked away once again.