Figured I would put up some of my short stories here, see if anyone was interested or wanted something to kill 5 minutes with all this self-isolation going on. 
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A Human Moment
by Phalanx
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Spartan 112 opened his eyes. His targeting system scanned back and forth as he panned his surroundings, trying to get his bearings. He had smashed through three storeys before stopping. A layer of dust hung in the air from his final impact, giving everything in the room a hazy outline. Many of the walls were shattered, and the room was filled with rubble. In the distance he could hear the dull sound of gunfire and explosions as his squad engaged the enemy.
His display told him that there was a severe fracture in his right femur. He felt his armour compensating, injecting pain suppressants into his bloodstream and bio-foam to hold the break in place. He would have a limp. That would slow him down.
Chris looked to his assault rifle lying next to him. He lifted the weapon, checking it over for damage. Other than a few scratches, he found nothing. He made a mental note to give it a full inspection and clean once he was back aboard the cruiser.
His armour was pitted and scratched. The orange armour with white striping was barely visible beneath the dirt and dust he had been covered in. His helmet was howling static at him; clearly the comms unit had not survived the fall. The armourers aboard his cruiser would not be happy.
The planet of Baradium XII was in a heavy winter period; snow and ice were constant. Getting to his feet, Chris moved to the doorway of the building, limping from his injured leg. Scanning the area quickly, he moved out.
Crossing a small plaza without incident, Spartan 112 paused. He had heard something; the lightest of noises. He pressed against the side of a building and slid along until he reached the end. Hefting his rifle, he turned the corner to face the source of the noise. Stepping out into the alleyway, Chris sighted along his weapon.
Crouched in the freezing snow in front of him, was his target. The little girl was sobbing, the tears on her face freezing almost instantly as they hit the frigid air. She looked up at him, fear appearing suddenly, falling onto her rear and scrabbling backwards along the desperately.
Chris chinned the control in his helmet activated the external communications.
‘There is no need to be scared,’ he boomed. ‘I am not your enemy. I am here to fight for you.’
It didn’t have the effect he wanted. She sped up, trying to get away from him. Chris realised the problem and removed his helmet.
Modulating his voice, Spartan 112 tried again. ‘I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Chris. What’s yours?’
‘L-Llianna,’ stuttered the child. She was dressed in a light-brown dress, dirty and ragged, and clearly hadn’t eaten in a long while. ‘Are you an angel?’
‘Not really,’ replied Chris, considering the question. ‘Are you alone? Where are your parents?’
‘I don’t know,’ Llianna said, her head dropping in despair. ‘I’ve lost my mummy. Lots of us were heading to the big refugee camp when we heard fighting. I lost her as we ran.’
Chris considered the information for a moment. Stepping forwards, he lowered himself to one knee in front of her. ‘Perhaps I can help you? I can escort you to the nearest garrison and they will get you there safely.’
Llianna looked up into his face. ‘Mummy told me Spartans don’t have family; that you don’t have feelings.’
Chris furrowed his brow, considering this unexpected question for a moment. ‘Perhaps that is true, but that does not mean we do not care.’
Llianna got to her feet. Even standing, she barely reached Chris’s head as he knelt. ‘Will you take me to my mummy?’
Reseating his helmet, he held out his open palm. Chris signalled to the girl to sit on his lower arm. As she did so, he lifted her up and stood himself. ‘Let’s get going,’ he said calmly.
They had been walking for some time when a noise alerted the Spartan. Patrolling along the main street across from him was his enemy, his real enemy; a squad of Elites.
Silently, Chris knelt and placed Llianna down next to him. Taking cover behind a nearby vehicle, he raised his weapon and aimed the rifle at the lead Sangheili, flicking the selector switch to single shot. They hadn’t seen him.
Calming his breathing for a better aim, he exhaled and squeezed the trigger.
The shot flew true, smashing into the target’s helmet, causing the energy shield in its armour to flare. The Elite staggered backwards, dropping its weapon in the process, more from surprise than anything else. Chris shifted his weight and retargetted. The rest of the squad hadn’t pinpointed him, so he lined up another shot and engaged the Elite once again. This time, the shots overpowered the shield and the Spartan finished the first target with a bullet through the neck.
Sprinting across the street, Chris moved as the rest of the Elites brought their weapons to bear.
Pulling up next to a burnt out truck, Chris returned fire at the Sangheili, who scrambled to find cover. With nothing around them, the aliens retreated back down the street, screaming vengeance for their fallen leader. The Spartan waited until they had pulled back far enough, then moved to check the downed Elite. A hand shot up and clouted his wrist, knocking his rifle away. Chris responded by unsheathing his combat knife and stabbing horizontally into the gap under the Elite’s chest armour. The warrior went limp and fell back to the ground, gurgling.
Withdrawing his blade, Chris moved to gather his rifle, having dropped it from the Elite’s futile attempt to defend itself.
He was spun around onto his back by a jolt on the rear of his left shoulder. Dazed, he looked up as an armoured foot planted itself on his chest. Spartan 112 looked up into the glowing light of a Sangheili’s energy sword, its teeth bared in a snarl. The Elite’s grip tightened, and he punched downards. Chris’s world went dark.
The little girl watched in mute horror at the execution unfolding in front of her.
As she sat there in the snow, Llianna realised a shadow loomed over her; there was someone behind her. Looking over her shoulder, staring through tear-filled eyes, she screamed as a silhouetted figure stood there.
The previously cloaked Sangheili turned at the sound and raised his off-hand weapon to fire.
A burst of light and noise immolated the Elite instantly. As Llianna looked around confused, another giant hovered behind the silhouette. The shoulder-mounted weapon in its hands glowed softly, hissing as the gentle snow landed on it.
‘Let’s go,’ the figure announced out loud, eyeing the dead Spartan. He cocked his head slightly and opened a private communications channel back to headquarters. ‘This is Achilles Three. We’re heading to safe harbour with refugees. Achillies Five is down.’
Llianna turned to head towards what she realised now was an escort for a convoy.
Tears streaming, she walked away from the scene. Llianna looked back to see the corpse of Spartan 112 slowly disappearing under a fresh layer of snow and ice. She would not forget his sacrifice.