He racked another shell and opened fire on the next Elite, but this one was even more agile than the others and sidestepped the moment John’s finger pulled the trigger. Then it leapt forward, bringing its energy sword around in a head-high strike that was a little too obvious. Rather than duck and expose himself for an easy reverse slash, John spun inside the blow and jammed his shotgun up beneath the Elite’s helmet.
	Again, the alien was too quick, tipping its helmet aside just before John opened fire. But this time, at least the energy shield crackled and went down.
	John pumped another round into the chamber, then felt the Elite’s free arm snaking around his chest, trying to take advantage of his shoulder wound to immobilize for the coup de grâce.
	Bad mistake.
	First, pain was nothing to a Spartan but incentive to fight harder. Second, Spartans wore power armor backed up by a neural interface. All they had to do was think, and their Mjolnir reacted. John thought about ripping the entrapping arm away, his shoulder erupting in anguish as his hand moved over the top of the Elite’s forearm. He clamped tight and shoved downward, using the alien’s own wrist to block the energy blade driving up toward his chin.
	The Elite’s hand fell, severed at mid-forearm, and the blade kept coming. John leaned away and managed to avoid taking the point under his helmet. But he sensed pressure along the side of his neck and felt blood trickling down inside his skinsuit.
	John’s ears began to drum with panic, and he tried to assure himself it wasn’t the carotid. If that had been cut, he would already be falling unconscious.
	And he wasn’t.
	So he jammed his shotgun down on the Elite’s foot and fired. The alien’s grasp loosened and it began to topple, still holding the sword next to John’s neck.
	John went with it, jamming his free hand up inside the alien’s sword arm and pushing it away. They collapsed to the deck, John still on top and holding the blade at bay. He started to beat the alien’s sword arm with his shotgun barrel, so unnerved by his close call that he didn’t stop even after the wrist snapped sideways and the energy blade sizzled out . . . not until Kelly stepped up behind him and gently pulled the shotgun from his hand.
	She pumped another round into the chamber, then placed it against the badly wounded Elite’s helmet and sent brain matter fanning across the deck in every direction.

Halo: Silent Storm Ch 27