Right, no time to worry about the aesthetics. They had to move. He had no idea how far ahead that Hak guy was, but it didn’t matter–they needed to get this done, and fast.
York knew exactly was Lina was doing, so he kept himself out of the way. Already, the lift was beginning to slow to a stop, so he raised his shotgun in preparation; he probably wouldn’t be shooting at anything with Carolina sprinting ahead of him, but it was good to be prepared.
The lift doors opened to reveal… well, exactly what he expected, honestly. Gone were the sleek, ornate trappings of Covenant architecture. In its place was the gunmetal grey, dull metal of a UNSC-constructed corridor of some sort. The signs of battle were everywhere: the cramped hall was cluttered with metal barricades, partially melted by plasma bombardment, and scorch marks and bullet holes littered the walls. Broken monitors littered the floor, and cables dangled from the damaged ceiling. There were no bodies, and it looked like the Scorched Covenant had taken pains to move most of the debris out of the way to make traversing it easier.
There were no obvious threats at first–only a relatively long hallway that stretched towards a four-way intersection. Of course, anything could be using the barricades as cover–they were tall enough to hide a Kig-yar, at least.
York stayed put, making sure there wasn’t an ambush… not that Lina probably cared. “Ladies first, I guess?”
‘Morok was no fool–he knew that even the guns of the tiniest Forerunner ship were superior to those of any modern species, the Sangheili included. There was no guarantee that he would come out on top here. Good thing he had an ace in the hole.
As the General swung the Phantom around in an attempt to reduce its profile–the turret’s 360-degree rotation meant it could operate freely–he glanced over his shoulder at Lacinus. “Shoot them down,” he growled. “I will keep them occupied.”
The Chieftain responded with a tusk-filled grin, before heading back to the Phantom’s troop bay. There, he grabbed the weapon he had brought along for just such an occasion–a massive anti-tank weapon colloquially called a Skewer. It may not destroy the enemy ship completely, but a well-aimed shot would cripple it and turn the tide.
The dropship’s side doors opened and Lacinus, braving the fusillade of hard light projectile coming his way, hefted the Skewer over his shoulder and aimed. It wouldn’t be a perfect shot, thanks to the ship’s cloak, but he could easily aim for the source of the weapons fire. With a mighty thunk, the Skewer fired; a huge metal spike, easily bigger than Locus’ arm, covered the distant between the two ships in the blink of an eye. If it hit, it would almost certainly puncture Ary’s hull and do significant damage in the process. Crude, but more than effective.
