An Elite's Tale

The sounds of death and destruction were music to Ludo's ears. Reports of weaponized plasma and explosions and such, were ironically therapeutic. They put him in his comfort zone, helped him with his studies. And he never stopped studying, always analyzing, memorizing. Perfecting.

He studied his teammates more than his opponents. With enemies in the field, it was all a matter of routes and opportunities. New ways to outsmart intelligent or numerous foes. A game of wits. But it was important to understand who his teammates were. It was them that could be a detriment to his progression. He always scanned signs of deception of course, but Ludo needed to know who he could depend on, and who he couldn't. Who would stand by him in the face of overwhelming odds, and who would turn tail and run.

He would have been extremely grateful to have Zuvo back here with him, but the Fieldmaster was up in the cockpit with the Shipmaster and the Councilors, working the weapons systems. He'd fought alongside Fin 'Goramai a few times before and found his gung-ho attitude in the heat of battle to be both contagious and inspiring. They had actually been rivals of sorts, competitive names in the business; Ludo had killed more Spartans, but Zuvo had killed the Spartan. Covenant soldiers compared their reputations like bickering sports fans.

Ludo wanted to outdo him in battle, but knew that the Zealot's true expertise was swordsmanship, so he would wait until they were back on the ground. At the very least, if everything turned out well, he would challenge him to a friendly duel afterwards to settle the score. For now, Ludo assessed those who were on his immediate team, starting with the energetic little Grunt manning the Phantom's port side mounted plasma cannon.

He had written Fliz off as unreliable the second he met him, as he did with most Unggoy, but this was one of the occasions where that assumption was proven wrong. Fliz had proven himself and then some, not only skillfully piloting that Ghost during the ground assault, but also in aiding the Shipmaster in recapturing the cruiser. Most Grunts that actually participated in battle did not survive that long. Ludo knew he could trust him to stand firm.

The same went for Xepo, who Ludo chose as his second-in-command. The Elite was young, and a bit unhinged, but he was a good soldier. Ludo understood the brutality. Anything less than hatred for an enemy that attempted genocide against your species was an unacceptable geniality. However, a thin transparent line exists between cruelty and excessiveness, and Xepo danced dangerously alongside it. Had he pulled that head bashing stunt in the middle of a different battle, it might have gotten him killed.

The Plague gave the Mgalekgolo pair his respect as a warrior on general principle. Most, if not all Elites held Hunters in this regard, ever since one challenged, fought, and killed an Arbiter in single combat during the Taming of the Hunters. What made this particular pair especially respectable was their high rank. They were Hunter Generals, and instead of the usual battle dress attire, their armor had an extra outer layer of solid gold plating. Ludo had only encountered two other pairs in his life, and these Generals, like most Hunters in general, were actively ignoring everyone else in the troop bay.

It was the the two Elite Minors, Itan and Soze, that had Ludo worried. They were stationed at starboard, talking about those they knew that had been killed during the Elite massacres. Soze was out on the turret showering translucent bottles of plasma down onto the Wraith while talking to Itan. Itan stood behind him, near the seam where the extended troop bay door connected to the ship. He had a plasma pistol in each hand, taking potshots at the Wraith and fervently nodding in agreement to whatever Soze was saying. He looked like one of those fanatic Sangheili Ascetics during a Covenant sermon. He half expected the youngster to start clapping.

Great, Ludo thought, watching the Minors. The last thing he needed was two more Xepos on his hands. Worse. Xepo's green armor meant that he was a third year Special Operations Sangheili, and he couldn't have made it that far without developing some level of self control. Itan and Soze were both at an adolescent stage in their careers where it wasn't uncommon for undisciplined Elites to fall victim to bravado and make stupid, reckless decisions in battle.

Ludo decided to help them defend their section. He was confident Fliz and Xepo could hold their own, but wasn't so sure about Itan and Soze. They weren't thinking clearly. Too emotionally unstable, too unpredictable. And talking them down would do no good, he knew. He'd dealt with foolhardy Elites in the past and understood that the best way for them to learn was through adversity. They would either get themselves killed, or they would almost get themselves killed and remember never to make the same mistake. Some Sangheili just had to learn the hard way.

Not today.

Too many had lost their lives for nothing, slaughtered like animals. He was not about to stand idly by while Itan and Soze received this harsh lesson at the hands of a few Brutes just looking to contribute to the kill count.

Over the radio frequency reserved for commanders and team leaders, the Shipmaster ordered, "Ludo, prepare your team, we are entering the strait. Not sure what to expect, so be ready."

"Yes, Commander," was Ludo's stoic response.

He pushed himself off of the bulkhead he was leaning against, which got the attention of the Hunters. He gave them a single nod and switched over to the TEAMCOM.

"Everyone listen up. We had some trouble coming through here for the first time, and those Wraiths would not have come alone. Keep your eyes peeled. Protect the Scarab the best you can, but any immediate threats take precedence. We must not allow the Brutes to bring any more harm to the Councilors, no matter the cost."

"Understood Plague," responded Itan.

Soze reported, "We're ready."

"I'll defend this cruiser with my dying breath," Xepo declared.

Fliz, from his perch on the plasma cannon, chirped, "Brutes stinky bad bad!"

The Hunters said nothing.

Close enough.

Ludo made his way starboard toward the Minors. They had made it this far. It was time to see what skills these two had brought to the fight.