Twenty-first Infidel
Posted By: Bronzemage<mrbronzer@hotmail.com>
Date: 31 October 2006, 8:42 am
Read/Post Comments
|
Two Elites stood at the entrance of an abandoned human building, surveying the carnage before them. One with the scrutiny of long practice, the other with nervousness and faint outrage - one a gold-armoured Zealot, resplendent and glowering in his ornate battle plate, the other a young scarlet commander, fresh out of training and looking awed by the company he was in. Both were carefully examining bullet-ridden bodies and discarded weapons, grimacing every time their search revealed a Covenant corpse.
This wasn't the bloodiest battle the Zealot had seen, but it came close. The humans had used overturned desks inside the room as cover, and the close-quarters fighting meant that blades were the weapon of choice – for both sides. He spied a Jackal nearby with a vicious-looking combat knife sticking out of its head, creating an artificial addition to the alien's crest. A human had been sliced apart by an energy sword - one side of its body still looking surprised, the other charred and blistered.
The younger Elite walked slowly around the tangle of bodies and overturned furniture, trying to determine how the battle had gone – and if there were any survivors. The corpses of Grunts, Jackals and several Elites littered the floor, along with around twice the number of humans. An entire Covenant patrol team. Dead.
The Zealot waited by the door for his subordinate's analysis – it frustrated him slightly to waste so much time on examination, not when there were more areas of the planet's human infestation to clean out. But then again, this officer showed promise. He was just about to check the progress of the battle on his comm when his eyes fell upon a flash of silvery-white among the mangled heap of bodies that marked a particularly fierce battle between the two forces. Frowning, he walked over to investigate, reverently moving aside the Covenant bodies.
The gold Elite kneeled down, brushing aside a blackened corpse and exhaling loudly when he spied the silver-armoured face of a Commander staring lifelessly from the bottom of the pile. What possessed this Elite to travel with a patrol group? And more importantly, how had a soldier like this with decades of experience been taken down?
The answer to the first question was easy to guess – honour. Despite all obligations a Commander had to the Covenant, they were notorious for insisting they accompany front-line troops into battle – usually, their skills or the troops around them were more than enough to get them through a difficult fight. The second one was a little harder – judging by the amount of Covenant bodies surrounding the Commander, it would be a skilled – or lucky - human that hit the silver-armoured Elite. Yet, as the bullet-ridden corpse beside him showed, that human did exist.
"It's hard to believe," he muttered softly. The wiping out of a patrol team was bad enough – they had too few troops on this planet as it was. The death of a Commander in the same battle was a huge blow – and one that would reflect badly on the rest of the troops.
"Excellency? Hard to believe wha- oh." the scarlet Elite started, coming up behind the other warrior and quickly seeing the problem. He frowned, glancing at the half-covered nametag that adorned the Elite's armour. "Isn't that Jaha 'Hobsumee? He taught me at the academy."
The Zealot checked the body's suit carefully. "Yes, I thought I recognised him. Veteran of a hundred campaigns, on the honour roll for excellence in battle – a skilled leader of our forces. He was supposed to be one of the best soldiers in this part of the galaxy – strange that he was killed like this."
The scarlet Elite frowned again, confused. "Then… forgive me saying so, but how did an Elite as great as 'Hobsumee fall to a pack of humans? Especially with a patrol behind him?"
The gold armour flashed again as the senior Elite stood up, noting with irony that this odd death might be the start of the young officer's battle education. He himself had been guilty of letting appearances and past deeds cloud his judgement – then he learned that in battle, campaign awards meant nothing – a fact shown by this event and countless others over the course of the war. All the ability in the galaxy wouldn't save you from simple luck.
"Jaha always said one of our teams was equal to a score of the enemy." he said, then pointed to a dead human clutching what might once have been a sidearm, except that half of it was molten and scattered all over his arms. Simple luck indeed.
"It's the extra one that gets you."
|
