Keyes shot him in the chest, then stomach, grazed his side, and then ran out of ammunition. He slammed into Kincaide, grappling for the alien rifle. "Damn. . . UNSC ... pig,” Kincaide spat, still trying to force the rifle up into Keyes's ribs. “Go back to Earth. You don't belong here." The memory of the explosions in the cargo bay of Finnegan's Wake, the flaming Pelican Jeffries piloted going down, wounded ODSTs gritting their teeth and bearing the pain as they waited for
help, all filled Keyes's mind. He grunted and kept forcing the plas- ma rifle down until it was aimed at Kincaide's feet.
He pulled the trigger, and a burst of white-hot plasma destroyed the Insurrectionist's leg and threw Keyes back, still holding onto the rifle.
Concrete bubbled where they'd stood, and Keyes felt the legs of his uniform burning. He patted the fires out quickly, and looked back at Kincaide.
