Leap of Faith

He returned fire with his plasma rifle, a stream of blue projectiles spraying from the conductive rails in an almost unbroken line, felling the Grunt as they burned through its suit. They melted the metal of the vehicle behind it, leaving glowing holes in the chassis, sending flecks of molten metal spraying like sparks.

The last remaining Grunt turned to flee in a panic, and he hosed it with plasma, the weapon overheating in his hands as two cooling vents to either side of the receiver opened up with a hiss. The rifle became almost too hot to hold for a few moments, and he let the excess heat dissipate as he moved towards the door to the building.

There was at least one Jackal still in fighting condition, and the Rookie suspected that a more senior alien was likely commanding their squad. Could be a Brute, could be an Elite, there was no way to know for sure. Whatever it was, it was probably inside the building, that was where they had attacked from. He eyed the dark hallway beyond the open door warily. The last thing that he wanted was to take on one of the more dangerous Covenant species in such close quarters, but he had little choice. If he let them live, they would certainly call in backup, assuming that they hadn't already done so. Besides, one of his squadmates had been here, and he had to follow up on that lead. They might be injured, or just as lost as he was.

Now that he had a moment to breathe, he noticed the needle that was embedded deep in his shoulder. He had been so high on adrenaline, so focused on the battle that he hadn't even noticed it. The pain seemed to come flooding back all at once, as though his awareness of it had brought it into being, and he lowered his weapon for a moment as he took the needle in his hand. Fortunately, it hadn't exploded into jagged shards as the projectiles sometimes did, but it had punched right through his BDU and had embedded itself a good inch into his flesh. He tugged at it, trying to stifle a cry of pain and failing, agony blurring his vision. He took a tighter grip, then gave it another tug, succeeding it dislodging it. It fell to the sidewalk with the delicate tinkle of shattering glass, breaking into a million tiny fragments. He wanted to apply some of the MediGel to the wound, but there was no time right now.

He braced himself, then entered the building.

Alba - Tayari Plaza, nine hours after slip-space rupture.

Alba heard the shot while she was searching one of the cramped rooms in the Human structure, the telltale sound of a needle rifle echoing through the corridors. She rushed to the source of the gunshot as more followed it, her carbine at the ready. When she pushed her way through one of the narrow doorways, she found one of the Kig-yar firing out of a window that overlooked the street below, his fellow Jackals rushing to get into position. One of them leapt out of a nearby window, making his way down to the street below, another perching on a balcony as he fired into the vehicles that clogged the road.

"What's happening?" Alba demanded, not making any attempt to hide her displeasure. The damned Jackals were so bloodthirsty, they never stopped to think about what they were doing.

"Human below," the alien replied, keeping his scope on his target. The weapon kicked back against his shoulder as he popped off a couple more rounds, the barrel of his rifle flashing with pink residue.

"So you took the first shot, and missed?" she snarled. "If you had alerted me, we could all have fired on it at once. Use your tiny bird brain next time you want to bag yourself a prize. How many?"

"One in sight," the Kig-yar replied, "an Imp."

"An Imp?" Alba repeated, her brow furrowing. "What were you thinking? Imps are shock troopers, they work in packs. Where there is one, there will be more. Keep the pressure on it, make sure it doesn't escape. It may have already called in its packmates."

She heard the patter of feet behind her, turning to see the trio of Unggoy waiting nervously in the doorway.

"Captain?" one of them asked, "what's happening?"

"Head down to the street below and drive the Imp from cover," she replied with a commanding wave of her hand.

"A-an Imp!?" one of them exclaimed in its shrill voice.

"Yes, an Imp. Flush it out into the open, do not delay!"

The squat aliens exchanged alarmed glances, but they did as she asked, hurrying towards the stairwell that led down to the entrance. Damn those Jackals, they should have coordinated with their team. Imps were not the lightly armored, inexperienced soldiers that made up the bulk of the Human forces. They were second only to the dreaded Demons, equipped with advanced armor and equipment. More than that, they were hardened soldiers, easily a match for lower-ranked Jiralhanae and Sangheili in a firefight.

She was distracted by the muffled chatter of a Human weapon, the Kig-yar at the window snarling.

"It killed one of ours," he muttered, snapping his jaws as he loosed more shots.

"Where is it now?" Alba demanded. She didn't want to get close to the windows, she had seen what the large-caliber rifles that the Humans wielded could do, they punched through shields and armor alike with the ease of a bayonet through a ripe fruit.

"I can't see it anymore," the Jackal replied, "it moved to the far end of the-"

His head snapped back as a pink needle embedded itself deep into his skull, the Kig-yar swaying for a moment, dead before his body had even hit the ground. The Imp had recovered the needle rifle from the felled Kig-yar that had moved down to the street, they were resourceful little bastards. The Sangheili wouldn't even touch a Human weapon, as if they were worried that the heresy might somehow rub off on them, but she had seen Humans pick up everything from plasma pistols to fuel rod cannons.

There was another crack, and then the Kig-yar that had made his way out onto the balcony came rushing back inside, throwing himself through the open door and onto the carpeted floor. There was a pink needle jutting from his shoulder, protruding from his back where it had passed most of the way through his body and then gotten stuck. The alien squealed, purple blood oozing from the wound, his hand hovering over the projectile as if he was afraid to touch it.

"Pull it out before it pops!" Alba bellowed, but it was too late. The needle glowed in a brilliant rose hue, and then exploded, sending razor-sharp shards of shattered crystal tearing through the Kig-yar's flesh. He slumped to the ground, a wisp of smoke rising from the torn meat of his shoulder, now a crater the size of Alba's fist.

She cursed in her native tongue, had she really just lost three Kig-yar to a single Imp? Where was the fourth? There was another racket from down in the street, it sounded as if the Unggoy had finally made their move. With the Imp distracted, she chanced a look out of the window, shouldering her carbine. Through the pouring rain, she saw the alien, clad in black armor and wielding an Elite's plasma rifle. Had he killed a Sangheili before arriving here? Surely not.

She watched him stick one of the Unggoy with a plasma grenade, then vault over one of the abandoned vehicles in pursuit of the others, hosing them with streams of glowing plasma. The Imp moved between the vehicles like a river winding through the rocks, never so much as faltering as he cut down his foes.

Alba scoped in on him, her carbine's reticle hovering over his angular helmet, but something gave her pause. There was a needle lodged in his shoulder, its pink glow reflecting off his visor, the Kig-yar had not missed after all. It hadn't exploded, it must not have penetrated very far, but she could see that a good inch must be embedded in his flesh all the same. A similar wound had seen her Kig-yar writhing on the ground and screeching, but this Human scarcely seemed to notice that he had been wounded.

She had hesitated for too long, and her target slipped beneath her angle of view, heading towards the entrance to the building below her. She took a look at the street beyond, but she couldn't see any other Humans. Whenever she had fought the black-armored Imps before, they had been part of a pack, working in concert with at least half a dozen squadmates. They coordinated closely, fighting as one entity, their battlefield tactics putting pressure on even the most experienced Sangheili Majors. Why was this one alone? Had the Imp become separated from his pack? Had they been killed?

She lowered her weapon, turning towards the corridor. Whatever the Imp's story was, he seemed to be coming this way.

The Rookie - Tayari Plaza, nine hours after drop.

The Rookie moved into the building, the waypoint on his HUD leading him towards the nearest stairwell. He checked his corners, sweeping his plasma rifle across open doorways and pockets of shadow. This place was still crawling with Covvies, but he didn't have time to clear every room. He mounted the stairs, trying to ignore the pain in his shoulder, passing the first floor, and then emerging onto the second.

A sudden screech from somewhere above him almost made him jump out of his skin, and he raised his head just in time to see a Jackal drop from the stairwell above him. The alien landed on him, grappling with him as it knocked him to the floor. The thing was far heavier than it looked, two hundred pounds at least, its sharp claws tearing at his BDU and glancing off his armor plating. He found himself on the floor with the alien on top of him, scrabbling at his belly with its taloned toes like a cat trying to disembowel its prey. Fortunately, there was too much armor and gear in the way, and its claws couldn't penetrate. He tried to aim his plasma rifle at its chest, but it swiped the weapon out of his hand, sending it bouncing along the carpeted floor.

He managed to throw it off him, the creature darting away as he rose to his feet unsteadily. The two of them squared off, the Jackal snapping its jaws, its bulbous eyes fixed on him intently. The sharp quills that protruded from its head were standing erect, its rows of needle-like teeth bared in a snarl. These things looked small and frail at a distance, but their slim frames were packed with sinewy muscle, and they stood a head taller than the average Human when they weren't crouching on their digitigrade legs.

It had obviously been hoping that its initial ambush would finish him off, and it very well could have if it had managed to penetrate his BDU. The alien lunged at him again, alarmingly fast, swiping with the claws on his three-fingered hand. He raised his arms to protect his face reflexively, exposing the unarmored areas of his forearms. The alien's claws tore through the padded fabric and the Kevlar weave beneath, biting into his flesh and drawing red blood.

The alien drew a plasma pistol from its belt with the speed of a gunslinger and activated the point-defense gauntlet on its wrist, the Rookie reaching for his handgun in kind. He fired off a shot, but the round simply bounced off the glowing barrier of wavering plasma that the alien had erected, ricocheting into the ceiling and raining debris down on them. The alien poked its weapon through a convenient cut-out in the edge of the shield, the Rookie diving to the ground as a plasma bolt shot a burning hole in the wall where he had just been standing.

Scarcely taking the time to aim, he emptied his mag into the creature's feet and ankles, firing beneath its round shield. The alien screeched in pain, its legs cut out from under it, joining him on the floor as its shield collapsed back into its projector. His handgun now empty, the Rookie reached for his weapon of last resort, drawing a combat knife from his boot. As the Jackal struggled to right itself, he plunged the blade into its skull from above, feeling it sink up to the hilt. The alien went limp, the Rookie climbing to a kneeling position, breathing hard as he struggled to pull the knife free.

He stumbled to his feet, wiping the purple blood that soaked the blade on his sleeve as he retrieved his plasma rifle, then turned back towards the stairs that led to the third floor. With a bloody knife in one hand and the compact rifle in the other, he pressed onward.

Alba - Tayari Plaza, nine hours after slip-space rupture.

Alba heard the scuffle as the remaining Jackal launched its ambush on the Imp, along with the squeal that informed her of its outcome. She readied her carbine, aiming the reticle at the shadowy stairwell down the corridor. There was only one way that the Imp could come, and the radioactive rounds from her carbine would punch straight through his jet-black armor with ease.

His helmeted head emerged, but she hesitated once again as he mounted the steps and came into full view. There was a slight limp in one of his legs, his black chest armor was scarred by plasma, and crimson blood was seeping from wounds on his shoulder and forearm. In one hand, he held a tiny knife, its blade wet with Kig-yar blood. In the other, he held the Elite's plasma rifle, the red glow of its ammo counter indicating that the charge was almost depleted.

He had torn through her squad like a Zealot, and how many more before it? Where else could he have obtained the rifle and the plasma grenade? He was injured and alone, he should be hiding in some dark corner somewhere, waiting out the invasion. Yet he kept coming, never faltering. This was the tenacity that the Sangheili so respected.

The Imp aimed his weapon and fired, the shields on Alba's power armor absorbing the bolts harmlessly, flickering waves of energy passing over her body. She knew that he didn't have the charge left to collapse them, it would take half a battery at least to overload her shielding. She let him have his moment, the projectiles growing weaker and less precise as the weapon sputtered and died. He glanced at it for a moment, perhaps not understanding what had happened, then let it fall to the ground. It seemed that the little kleptomaniac had run out of stolen weapons, now all that was left was his knife. What would he do next?

To her surprise, he swiveled the knife in his hand so that the blade was facing downwards, taking up a fighting stance. She had three feet over him, and she weighed several times what he did, but that didn't seem to faze him.

Alba considered simply cutting him down with her carbine, he was defenseless now, but something about him stayed her hand. There was no fear in him, no hesitation, and he was ignoring the wounds that peppered his body. He was injured, no doubt exhausted, separated from his allies, but he stared at her unflinchingly through that angular visor.

The Imp charged at her, sprinting down the corridor, racing headlong into certain death. His knife was scarcely long enough to penetrate her thick hide, but he was going to try all the same. He covered the distance quickly, and there was a flash of sparks as his dagger met her armored forearm, glancing off the blue material harmlessly. Undeterred, he tried again, his strike easily deflected. Her power armor could stand up to some of the most powerful Human firearms, there was no way that he was going to penetrate it with just a combat knife.

That said, her shields would not deflect a blade as it would a bullet, and there were joints in her armor where the underlying suit and her naked skin was exposed. Was she in danger?

As if to answer her question, the little alien darted in under her arms, planting one hand on the pommel of his blade for leverage as he drove it towards her ribs. It sank deep into the rubbery vest that she wore beneath her blue armor, slipping between the protective plates, the sting of its point penetrating her skin.

She reacted reflexively, catching him with her forearm, lifting him off his feet and throwing him across the corridor. He flew through the air like a doll, hitting the adjacent wall hard enough that the plaster cracked, dust raining on his limp body as he settled onto the floor.

Alba cocked her helmeted head at him as he struggled back to his feet, his knife still clutched in his hand. He took up another stance, the knife flashing as it caught the light from the street outside that bled in through the windows. Incredible, he still wanted to fight.

"Have it your way," she muttered in her native tongue, stepping forward and throwing a punch at him. Her fist was as large as his head, and it impacted the wall where he had just been, sinking up to the wrist in the flimsy material and sending a cloud of white dust billowing into the air.

The Imp had dodged out of the way, he was a fast little creature, and she felt the bite of his blade as it cut into the unarmored area of her thigh. She wheeled around with the intent of catching him with her elbow, but he slipped through her grasp once again. She searched for him through the lingering dust and the darkness, wondering how he was able to see so well, when she felt him stab her just above the rump.

Enough, she was no longer amused by his antics.

Alba bellowed, spinning and charging down the hallway, her arms outstretched. They were easily the span of the corridor, and she snagged him, picking him up and carrying him with her as she barreled into the far wall. There was another puff of dust as she pinned the Imp against the surface, his boots dangling off the carpet, the blow dazing the creature for a moment.

It didn't last for long, and she soon felt his blade glance off her helmet, bouncing off her mouth guard. He tried to get it into the joint between her pauldron and her neck guard, but she reached up and enclosed his hand in her fist, squeezing until he dropped the weapon. It bounced off her armored shoulder, falling to the floor below.

The dust began to clear, and his helmeted face came into view. She had put him at head-height to her, their eyes level, Alba pressing him against the wall with one forearm across his chest. He was disarmed now, Humans didn't have talons or sharp teeth, there was no way for him to hurt her.

They stared each other down, Alba seeing the reflection of her own eyes in his opaque visor, her breath misting it. Just when she was starting to think that his bloodrage might have faded, he headbutted her, slamming his helmet into hers and making the metal ring. It was a futile gesture, but she found it somehow endearing. This Imp just didn't give up.

An idea crossed her mind, one that she would never have entertained even hours ago. She didn't want to kill this creature, he didn't deserve it. Nor did she want to return to the Covenant, not after they had betrayed the Sangheili, and the Prophet of Regret had abandoned her to her fate in the city. Perhaps there was a way that they could help one another...

"Enough, tiny man," she said in her gravelly voice. That seemed to surprise him, and he stopped his struggling abruptly. Alba knew their tongue, as did many of the lower-ranked members of the Covenant. It was commonplace for the Unggoy to learn the language so that they might translate for their superiors, and even some of the Jiralhanae and Sangheili could speak a fair bit of it.

Alba waited for some kind of response, but she didn't get one, the alien just stared at her silently.

"Alba has proposition for you," she said, hoping that her English was as good as she had thought. "My pack is dead, you are alone. Alba wants no part in this any longer, San'Shyuum are not my allies, the Covenant wars with itself. Tiny man must know how to get through gates that block the way, and Alba knows where the patrols go, knows how to avoid them." She tapped at her helmet with her free hand, hoping that he understood the reference to the Covenant communications network. "You will help Alba, Alba will help you. Both walk out of here, yes?"