An Elite's Tale

"Good luck," Mar 'Garaisee called after his older brother.

He wished his sibling luck any time they were separated on missions, which wasn't often. He was a little stunned when Madiba didn't reply with his usual will not need it. The thought of why didn't bother him too much. After all, he was probably just in a very focused mind zone. What did bother him was the sudden emptiness that formed in the pit of his gut when Madiba disappeared down the ramp. Even with the young Elite Minor standing there beside him, he suddenly felt very alone.

The Phantom left the Scarab minutes later and arrived at the control room. The strike team was deployed, then the Phantom took back to the skies until it was out of sight.

Mar turned to the Minor and asked, "What is your name?"

"Itan 'Volcumee," the Elite answered.

"Alright Itan. Head down to the command deck and do a count of the weapons and ammunition. If those dirty mongrels have reinforcements coming, I want us to be ready."

"By your word, Major," the Minor said before trotting down the ramp.

Okay. What next? Mar thought and turned back to the cliff.

At the top, he saw the Hunter General hunkered down behind its shield, ready for battle.

Right.

The best option would be to turn the Scarab to face the cliffs, that way the plasma beam would be aimed in the right direction when the reinforcements arrived. Mar no longer held onto the possibility of if. The Elites and humans were gunning for Tartarus, the Chieftain of the Jiralhanae. The idea of no one coming to his rescue was mildly absurd at the very least.

Mar was headed down to the command deck to turn the Scarab around and saw a human that had stayed behind. It was one of the Imps, the dark toned one with the rope hair. The same one that kept calling him Three. The Imp was sitting near the mouth of the ramp that led to the command deck and with the condition and position he was in, Mar initially thought he was dead. He knelt down to place a hand on his shoulder, then noticed the human's body slowly rise and fall with each breath, the tight grip he had on the shotgun in his lap. The Imp slowly opened his eyes and turned to the Major.

"I'm...fine..." the Human grunted through heavy, labored breathing. "Just... resting my... eyes. I've still... got one last... fight in me."

Mar stared at the Imp in earnest. Humans weren't very strong or fast, but he had always held a respect for their undying resilience. True warriors to the very end. He patted the Imp's shoulder and stood up, saying, "Fight fierce and die well."

"I... ain't... gonna die."

Mar continued down to the command deck. The red-clad Major approached the Scarab control station and furiously tapped away at a transparent keyboard. The Scarab heaved and lurched as he steered it one hundred and eighty degrees.

Behind him, Itan was listing aloud all the supplies in the crates stacked along the left wall, "Three carbines, two needle rifles. Plenty of ammo for each."

Once in place, an image of the Hunter General on the cliff showed up on the digital viewport.

"Both types of plasma rifles, needlers, spike rifles. All in full supply," Itan listed off.

Mar tapped at a triangular symbol with bent lines and curved corners, which brought up a reading of the Scarab's hull integrity. 81 percent. Next, he typed in a four key code to gain access to the weapons system.

"A few grenade launchers, and about... six belts of HEAP grenades."

On the bottom half of the enormous split screen, below the viewport, a message scrolled across declaring that the weapons systems were online. Although the liquid plasma reserves were below sixty-one percent, they were hot and ready to go. The magnetic fields of the superconducting coils were nice and strong, key for the plasma to be formed in a straight beam rather than in bubble cased projectile form. All he needed to do was load the plasma into the cannon and fire.

Itan finished listing off the guns in their weapon cache, saying, "One beam rifle, fully charged, and a crate of spare fuel rods."

Mar was turning back to give the Minor an order when rapid movement on the screen caught his attention. On the viewport, the Hunter General was backing up, firing its arm cannon from behind its shield. All in vain. It was being rained on by all manner of plasma and explosives by an enemy further back on the cliff, out of the Scarab's line of sight. The barrage only got worse as more projectiles joined in on the salvo, and the colossal Hunter General was blown backwards off its feet, back first into the rugged cliff face, where it slid down and got torn apart by unrelenting plasma.

The enemy came into view and Mar felt a wave of nausea. At least a dozen Phantom troop carriers were on approach, along with nearly twice as many Banshee fliers zipping and zooming and looping in arcs between them.

Knew it. Well, Madiba always told me to be careful what I wished for...

These weren't reinforcements he was dealing with. This was a platoon. The red Major unhooked the shoulder mounted fuel rod gun from his magnetic back holster, turned and tossed it to Itan.

"Pass me a needler. Good. Now take this, and that crate of spare fuel rods and see what you can do about those aircrafts," he ordered.

The Minor, now shouldering the fuel rod gun, looked at the top screen and back to Mar. He then said, "I'm on it Major."

He tucked the small crate of ammo underneath his free arm, grabbed the beam rifle in the same hand, and headed back up the ramp to the main deck. Mar turned back to the incoming enemy onslaught, hands on the weapons controls.

Firing the plasma beam at this point was a matter of keeping his fingers touched to a few specific keys long enough for the cannon to fully charge, then releasing once the purple bar on screen was filled to fire the shot. The weapon would then go into cool down mode upon discharge, which left the Scarab open to attack for five long seconds before it could be charged up for another shot. It worked remarkably similar to the "Onager" MAC sites the humans had tried to defend so many of their worlds with. Mar briefly wondered if they would suffer the same fate here.

Up on the top deck, Itan and the wounded Imp were busy at work. Silvery blue, high powered beams punched holes in the enemy ships while green globs of concussive goo took them out of the air entirely.

Mar decided to test fire the weapon. His first targets were a pair of wraiths that sat on the cliff providing cover fire for the advancing aircrafts. The Scarab's mouth cannon gave a loud, high pitched whine as the plasma charged and gathered at its tip. He released the keys and a green laser shot forth. Mar then gained manual control of the cannon itself and pivoted it to the left and right in sweeping motion.

He sent two Phantoms that had gotten caught in its path down in flames and obliterated the Wraith tanks as though they were made of styrofoam. Mar breathed a quick sigh of relief. Those mortars had been getting pretty close. If one had struck one of the Scarab's skyscraping legs, it may have brought the whole thing tumbling down into the water.

He charged up another shot and cut another two Phantoms down, but the Banshees just weren't worth the plasma. They were just too quick and elusive to catch in the green ray. The green goo globs and silver beams from his teammates were far more capable of demolishing their sleek metal frames. He'd leave the Banshees to them.

Where were these Brutes earlier? Mar absentmindedly wondered.

He would have gladly welcomed this challenge after the pathetic interceptors he, Madiba, Rtol, and Ziro had made a mockery of before meeting up with the Arbiter. But now he was out of his Banshee and down here with his back against the wall, and the Brutes were circling overhead like vultures ready to claim their prize.

Life can be funny that way, Mar thought with a shake of his head. And not funny ha-ha.

The Phantoms were really close now, coming in for a deployment drop. Mar charged up another blast, probably his last, and lined his aim to strike three in a row. He fired. The leading Phantom saw the weapon charging and wisely banked to the side at the last possible moment. The ray screamed across the gulf and skewered two troop carriers behind it.

Damn!

There was no stopping it. The plasma beam was in cool-down. He felt rumbling explosions thumping and shaking the Scarab. Then the pounding of feet above him. They were being boarded.

He activated the Scarab's external speakers and barked, "Fall back! Fall back!"

If they could get to him, he'd seal off the entrance with the double-layered energy security door. The Brutes would have a tougher time getting through that than if they decided to just burrow down through the main deck. All Itan and the Imp had to do was just make it...