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Part Four: . . . And The Low
Cortez had given us five minutes to take photographs of the ruins. I chose to use the time to pout, instead of actually doing the objective. I was starting to hate the Spartan more and more by the second. I knew Cal had already saved my life twice . . . but that's probably what ticked me off the most. I had a babysitter.
"That's twice," a voice called from behind. I turned, only to meet the mirrored visor of Dutch. "Twice he saved your dumb ass already." He nudged me with a laugh. "You could atleast say thank you." I grunted, about to respond, but stopped. There was no point in trying to argue with Dutch. He was right, after all. I just wish I had known that at the time.
"All right, everybody," Cortez shouted out. "Let's get moving."
I hefted my BR-55, and shoved Dutch intentionally as I walked by him. Without a word, I joined Cortez and the Spartan, grumbling occasionally to myself along every step of the way.
The next hour of traveling was difficult. Whoever these aliens were, they must have been huge . . . because the steps on the stair cases were about as tall as I was. I groaned, and continued to climb. We were almost to our location. The Prophet would be landing in about fifteen minutes. No time to waste.
Cal-141 hauled me over the last stair, setting me to my feet. I quickly retracted with a look of disgust underneath my helmet. He ignored my gesture, and coninued to walk, walong with Dutch and Cortez. I sighed, cursed, and followed them. We turned the corner, finally arriving at our destination.
"This is it." Cortez explained, voice quiet. Everyone was quiet - even the Spartan, who hadn't spoken a single word seemed to be more silent than usual. The entire mission relied on these next few moments - relied on taking the shot, and taking it right.
The location was in a cavern-like dome, the alien architect making up the wall to the left, with a large window overlooking the valley. Everyone peered out over the valley, getting a good look. In the distance, nearly two miles away, a lengthly line of Covenant personnel stood at attention, awaiting their Prophet. "THe shuttle will be touching down in two minutes," Cortez informed quietly, checking his watch.
Cal-141 waisted no time - he immidiatly set up shop, placing the SRS Sniper Rifle on it's stands in a fixed position, switching it to high-caliber. I watched with an annoyed expression. "After all of this, they better be everything they said he was . . . " I whispered to myself.
The Spartan looked through the scope, awaiting the Phantom to touch down, along with the Prophet. I removed my binculars, and watched intently. Half of me was wanting the Spartan to miss . . . for whatever reason, I don't know.
Two phantoms touched down, one of them dropping off the Prophet . . . the bastard we were supposed to kill. I kept watching, waiting for Cal to take the shot, until suddenly, Cal turned, knocking me to the floor.
"What the hell--!?" I started, getting cut short by my sudden hit to the floor. I turned, only to see the Gravity Hammer of a Brute Chieftan - the same one from before - colide with the Spartan's head where I had just been standing moments ago. Cal's helmet sparked, then his body went limp, falling to the floor. It took me a few seconds to register what just happened, then it hit me.
Cal-141 had just saved my life . . . again.
"Take him down!" Cortez ordered, tackling the Chieftan in the leg. I recovered, and grabbed ahold of the other. With his legs encumbered with a burden, Dutch tackled the Brute in the chest, sending him sprawling to the floor. Before the bastard could recover, DUtch was on top of him. He lifted his M7, then riddled the Chieftan's face full of holes. The Brute gurgled, then relaxed, dead on the covern floor.
Without hesitation, Cortez cursed, running to the Spartan. He grabbed ahold of his helmet, then pulled it free to check how bad the damage was. Everyone's eyes shot wide at what they saw. Cal turned to us, hair covering most of his - no. her face. She had the palest skin I've ever seen, as well as snow-white hair, trailing down her back. She was beautiful. I seemed to have been lost in her eyes, gazing with disbelief. Cal had been a woman the entire time.
"Take the shot," Cal ordered. "O'Brian,now! You're the only one who can do it!" I stood there like an idiot for a second or two, then nodded, expression serious. I turned, the slid where the Sniper Rifle had been set up. I took it into my hands, aimed down the sights, and looked for the Prophet. The crosshair resided on his head a moment, then I aimed it a little ahead, expecting the wind to carry it back a bit.
I counted my heartbeats. One . . . two . . . three.
My finger closed around the trigger, and the shot screamed in the air like a banshee as it traveled over the valley. My heart started beating faster and faster . . . and I watched as the Prophet was hit clean in the head, ending his pathetic life. The Covenant surrounding the Prophet all jumped in horror, then studied the position where the shot had come from. Roars of mourning could be heard throughout the valley.
I rejoined Dutch and Cortez, who had removed their helmets, and were both stnading over Cal, sad expressions on their faces. I took off my helmet as well, and gazed with sad eyes. Cal's hair was soaked with her own blood, and dripping into a crimson pool around her. She retrieved something from her suit, and held it up, indicating Cortez to take it.
"It's the data." she said. "On the ruins." She took Cortez's hand, and placed the chip in it. "Tell them . . . " Cal grunted in pain, "To get it to Halsey . . . she'll know." Another grunt of pain.
Cortez shook his head. "No. You give it to her."
Cal smiled, and laughed. "We both know . . . that's . . . that's not going to be possible . . . " She turned away from Cortez, and met my gaze. I was staring at her like a moron. I had been so selfish, so naive . . . and now I had regretted every single bit of the way I had been acting. She smiled one last time, and her muscles tensed. \
Cal-141 was dead.
Silence lasted for nearly five minutes after her death. Tears welled in my eyes, as well as Dutch's and Cortez's. This wasn't just a symbol of our mourning for Cal, but also a mourning for ourselves. The Spartan's were the only hope Humanity had, and they were portrayed to be unbeatable. That wasn't the case. We just watched a Spartan die right in front of our eyes. What hope did we truly have?
The silence was broken by the roar of a Phantom. It pulled into the window, and sprayed at us with plasma from it's cannon. We took cover instinctively, then ran for the exit, leaving Cal's body behind. We kept on running until we arrived at the staircase again. Cortez ordered us to stop.
"You two okay?" he asked, catching his breath. Dutch remained silent. "How about you, O'Brian?" he asked with concern, facing me. Out of the three of us, I was having the hardest time with this . . . guilt had been heavily placed on my chest, and I hadn't expected it to go away any time soon.
"Are we going to gossip, or get the hell out of here?" I barked spitefully. Cortez nodded, understanding my rude comment. Now wasn't the time for contradiction - and I did make a valuable point. The Covenant would be on our asses any moment now.
"Dutch, take point. Evac is still a couple miles off . . . we may still make it." Dutch complied, hopping down the steps, one at a time. Cortez followed. I stood there a few moments, recollecting things. Cal was dead.
What hope did Humanity truly have?