What Are The Odds?

Isabella-G238 slipped the shoulder strap of her BR85 across her chest, taking stock of the carnage of the battle. Piles of dead Grunts, multicolored blood and brain matter sprayed by broken methane nozzles like macabre confetti. Their Elite commander lay dead as well, shredded by the grenade thrown under his legs. Isabella's SPI was splattered with alien blood, which would be a real joy to wash off later.
The lone Spartan-III flashed a green status signal to the rest of her team, and moved forward to the terminal that the Grunts had previously been trying to access. It was mostly development of high-explosive munitions; Something the station was well-known for. She didn't know the Covenant to be too interested in human weapons, but since the fall, they might have been growing desperate. It didn't help how many shipments of weapons had been intercepted or sabotaged by ONI, and even Isabella herself.
Isabella slipped an ONI Lance drive into the console, and let the chip do its work copying the station's research. Afterwards, she was to take Katar into the station's armory, recover the excavation mines, and use them to destroy the station. Or, at least, destroy the server room and keep the Covenant from getting what they were looking for.
Isabella whistled tunelessly and tapped her fingers on the console while she waited. Getting distracted, even for a moment, was a risk, but Isabella decided to shoulder the risk. Before boredom completely overtook the teen, the cloaked Elite who had escaped her rain of fire did. The huge alien grappled with Isabella and launched her across the room. Isabella grunted when she landed on her back on the floor and slid, but recovered her focus. The Spartan found her rifle, snapped to aim, and managed to get a few bursts out. Then the rifle clicked its signal that it was out of ammo.
The Sangheili took one stride, grabbed the sword handle hanging from its thigh, took another step, flicked its wrist to activate the sword, and then vanished in a purple bloom of plasma. The plasma faded as fast as the colossal bang did, leaving the Sangheili a heap on the floor, much to the surprise of Isabella.
“No fucking way.” Isabella scooted the short distance to the fallen Elite, then rolled the dense body over. The explosion had little concussion, but the uncontrolled plasma had surged through the Elite's body, searing it's mouth and eyes, and presumably, its brain. The metal shell of the sword peeled outward from the ends, where the plasma conduits had failed. The power cell was exposed, and Isabella found what she'd suspected; A tiny black chip embedded in the alien circuitry and secured by gold pins as thin as hairs. Painted on the chip was the eye of ONI. 
“Katar, you're not going to believe this.” Isabella called over her comms, as she pocketed the broken, lucky sword.
Category:The Weekly