They were approaching the steep drop off where the Arbiter had first inquired about the control room. Nimble as a house cat, the hundred-sixty foot titanium insectoid climbed down from the cliff down to the massive beach below. Directly ahead was their destination, a looming and impressive display of Forerunner architecture that rose from the center of a gulf.
Almost time to meet your maker, you filthy ape.
Ludo's anticipation threatened to burst open at the seams in the form of a battlecry, but he managed to keep himself in check and produce his usual calm facade. While everyone else's number one priority was to stop the Sacred Ring from firing, his main concern was killing Tartarus. He wouldn't regain any of the lost Elites in doing so, but at the very least he would avenge them. And he could hardly wait to avenge them.
The Phantom was a perfect chaperone for the remainder of the now crippled Elite convoy. While it swept and cleared the beach of all enemy aircraft and ground vehicles, the two surviving Banshees had finally destroyed their aerial intruder and flew at a safe distance behind the Scarab. One of the Hunter Generals had also been killed in the fight. Its lone brother stayed atop the cliff, valiantly determined to hold off any reinforcements while everyone else pushed to the control room.
Ludo turned at the scraping sound of dragged footsteps. The Imp was coming back up the ramp with the arm of another draped over her shoulders, helping him limp along. This one was an injured male human with darker skin and rope-like hair, the one that Ludo had almost carelessly killed back on the docking platform. For reasons beyond his understanding, this human looked at him and gave a quick upwards nod and grin. He squinted at the human, unsure, then slowly, carefully, reciprocated the inverted version of what he'd always taken as a sign of respect or cue to spring into action. The injured Imp's grin only grew wider, goofier. It was then Ludo noticed the smeared scarlet trail of blood that had followed the duo from the mouth of the ramp.
"See," the bleeding Imp said as the other leaned him up against the wall adjacent to the ramp entrance and eased him to the floor. "We're homies. He had my back earlier."
Ludo had trouble following the human street dialect and surmised that the injured one must be delirious. Too much blood lost.
He isn't going to make it.
Just then, the brusque voice of the human Sergeant Major boomed through the mega speakers loud enough to be heard at the opposite end of the gulf.
"Stand clear of the door."
Message received, the Phantom banked to the left and the Scarab's main cannon whined and glowed hot green as it charged. Here comes the best part of the song. The trumpets.
"Hey bastards," the Scarab pilot shouted to the sealed Forerunner structure. "Knock knock!"
