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The targets in front of him didn’t stand a chance.
John loaded his pistol with an extended mag and aimed at the moving holographic targets in front of them. He fired quickly, efficiently, ruthlessly. Ten seconds later, his clip was empty.
“Accuracy percent: one hundred percent,” the mechanical voice reported. “Would you like another round of targets?”
“Yes.”
He had been at the firing range for the better part of an hour, aiming at whatever targets the computer set up before him.
There were to be no thoughts of Cortana. Or the fact she was dying.
His only focus was to think about nothing except for firing at the targets with the the myriad of weapons he had brought with him.
At least, that was his intention. The truth was John couldn’t avoid thinking about his near-constant companion throughout the Halo campaign and her fate.
He should have never left her on High Charity. She could have come back with him on Truth’s ship with the Index safely in tact. She would have gone with him through the Portal and they would have activated the Index. She wouldn’t have suffered at the hands of the Gravemind and she would have been able to live long enough for her to come up with a solution to the rampancy issue.
John frowned. It wasn’t in his nature to second-guess his actions. As a Spartan, they were decisions to be made in an instant. While there were always things he could take away from each mission, a way to achieve the objectives more efficiently, new intel about the enemy, he had rarely regretted making the decisions he had.
But, he reminded himself, it was her decision to stay behind. She had an objective --to protect Earth-- to complete. Though she had suffered at the hand of the giant parasite and had been lulled into thinking she could get a message to him without the Gravemind knowing, she had kept the Index safe until John was able to find her. Her solution, while dangerous and reckless, had allowed for the destruction of the Flood and saved humanity from their biggest threat.
Even at the cost of her own life.
The image of her, frightened and worried, as he she told him about her deteriorating condition away would not leave his mind.
With a violent mental shove, he pushed the thought away.
She would be fine.
She had to be.
He had lost so many people throughout the Halo campaign; she was not going to be added to the list.
He reached around to the table where an assortment of firearms were waiting for him. Before he could chose his next weapon of choice, he realized he wasn’t alone.
Johnson was leaning against the edge of the table, watching him closely.
Wordlessly, he set down the pistol on the table.
“I haven’t seen you this pissed off since the monitor tried killing me,” he said, nodding towards the pile of empty clips to the side of him. He pulled out a cigar and lit it. “Are the rumors true? About Cortana dying?”
It sounds so much worse, so final, hearing the words from Johnson. “Doctor Halsey has a plan to help her reach metastability,” he replied, avoiding answering the question.
Johnson took a long drag from his cigar and studied the Chief for a second. “Think it will work?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, grabbing an assault rifle roughly. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of it not working. That’s why he had come here in the first place.
“She’s not dead yet, Chief.”
That caused him to forget about the targets ahead of him. Slowly, he turned around and faced his friend. “You’re mourning for her, but she’s still here,” the sergeant continued. “I told you not to let her go and I mean it. She’s gonna need your help to get through this. I don’t care how stubborn she is.”
John set down the rifle as he considered Johnson’s words. He was mourning for Cortana, he realized. The idea of her succumbing to rampancy was almost unbelievable after everything they had accomplished together. He had spoken to Doctor Halsey after Cortana had told him about her condition. The doctor had been forthright in her assessment of Cortana: Reach was going to be her last mission if her plan didn’t work.
The idea of her being helpless, unable to live the way she was meant to, was something John didn’t want to think about. “She’s...”
“Important to you,” Johnson finished knowingly.
John shifted uncomfortably. Why was it so hard for him to acknowledge that verbally? Obviously his actions--his conversation with Lord Hood on the Shadow of Intent, going alone on the Flood-invested High Charity to find her, requesting assignment aboard the Unto the Light--testified to just how highly he thought of Cortana.
He swallowed before nodding. “Yes, she is.”
“It’s about time you admitted it out loud,” he said, giving his shoulder a nudge. “Only a crazy fool like you would have gone on that damned ship to get her out of there.” He put the cigar back in his mouth. “Spartans don’t do helpless well, but you know as well as I do that if any AI can beat rampancy, it’s gonna be Cortana."
Chapter 5: Who's Driving This Thing Anyway?
John loaded his pistol with an extended mag and aimed at the moving holographic targets in front of them. He fired quickly, efficiently, ruthlessly. Ten seconds later, his clip was empty.
“Accuracy percent: one hundred percent,” the mechanical voice reported. “Would you like another round of targets?”
“Yes.”
He had been at the firing range for the better part of an hour, aiming at whatever targets the computer set up before him.
There were to be no thoughts of Cortana. Or the fact she was dying.
His only focus was to think about nothing except for firing at the targets with the the myriad of weapons he had brought with him.
At least, that was his intention. The truth was John couldn’t avoid thinking about his near-constant companion throughout the Halo campaign and her fate.
He should have never left her on High Charity. She could have come back with him on Truth’s ship with the Index safely in tact. She would have gone with him through the Portal and they would have activated the Index. She wouldn’t have suffered at the hands of the Gravemind and she would have been able to live long enough for her to come up with a solution to the rampancy issue.
John frowned. It wasn’t in his nature to second-guess his actions. As a Spartan, they were decisions to be made in an instant. While there were always things he could take away from each mission, a way to achieve the objectives more efficiently, new intel about the enemy, he had rarely regretted making the decisions he had.
But, he reminded himself, it was her decision to stay behind. She had an objective --to protect Earth-- to complete. Though she had suffered at the hand of the giant parasite and had been lulled into thinking she could get a message to him without the Gravemind knowing, she had kept the Index safe until John was able to find her. Her solution, while dangerous and reckless, had allowed for the destruction of the Flood and saved humanity from their biggest threat.
Even at the cost of her own life.
The image of her, frightened and worried, as he she told him about her deteriorating condition away would not leave his mind.
With a violent mental shove, he pushed the thought away.
She would be fine.
She had to be.
He had lost so many people throughout the Halo campaign; she was not going to be added to the list.
He reached around to the table where an assortment of firearms were waiting for him. Before he could chose his next weapon of choice, he realized he wasn’t alone.
Johnson was leaning against the edge of the table, watching him closely.
Wordlessly, he set down the pistol on the table.
“I haven’t seen you this pissed off since the monitor tried killing me,” he said, nodding towards the pile of empty clips to the side of him. He pulled out a cigar and lit it. “Are the rumors true? About Cortana dying?”
It sounds so much worse, so final, hearing the words from Johnson. “Doctor Halsey has a plan to help her reach metastability,” he replied, avoiding answering the question.
Johnson took a long drag from his cigar and studied the Chief for a second. “Think it will work?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted, grabbing an assault rifle roughly. He didn’t want to think about the possibility of it not working. That’s why he had come here in the first place.
“She’s not dead yet, Chief.”
That caused him to forget about the targets ahead of him. Slowly, he turned around and faced his friend. “You’re mourning for her, but she’s still here,” the sergeant continued. “I told you not to let her go and I mean it. She’s gonna need your help to get through this. I don’t care how stubborn she is.”
John set down the rifle as he considered Johnson’s words. He was mourning for Cortana, he realized. The idea of her succumbing to rampancy was almost unbelievable after everything they had accomplished together. He had spoken to Doctor Halsey after Cortana had told him about her condition. The doctor had been forthright in her assessment of Cortana: Reach was going to be her last mission if her plan didn’t work.
The idea of her being helpless, unable to live the way she was meant to, was something John didn’t want to think about. “She’s...”
“Important to you,” Johnson finished knowingly.
John shifted uncomfortably. Why was it so hard for him to acknowledge that verbally? Obviously his actions--his conversation with Lord Hood on the Shadow of Intent, going alone on the Flood-invested High Charity to find her, requesting assignment aboard the Unto the Light--testified to just how highly he thought of Cortana.
He swallowed before nodding. “Yes, she is.”
“It’s about time you admitted it out loud,” he said, giving his shoulder a nudge. “Only a crazy fool like you would have gone on that damned ship to get her out of there.” He put the cigar back in his mouth. “Spartans don’t do helpless well, but you know as well as I do that if any AI can beat rampancy, it’s gonna be Cortana."
Chapter 5: Who's Driving This Thing Anyway?
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