[i]Primus Ta'aun was Cabal commander of the Skyburners, and was ordered to personally seize the Dreadnaught and kill Oryx by the Emperor himself. He failed and was taken, but his sacrifice paved the way for guardians to finish the job. He must not be forgotten[/i]. The Week Before Cliffside, Firebase Tartarus, Olympus Mons Even kilometers away, Ta'aun cannot escape the fight. He smells the ozone of Vex particle weapons. He sees the red plumes of artillery. And he hears the booming of crashing drop ships . They are senses he has long been accustomed to. He longs to join it, but he must wait. There will be fighting enough in the days ahead. "You're really going to do it?" He hears from behind. Mau'ual, after a long day of smashing Vex, is finally resting his exhausted jump jets. "Of course, life is duty, and without it, we are nothing". Ta'aun gives the answer any soldier would. The only one he can. "I will take the Dreadnaught...or die trying". Mau'ual tries to protest, but the Primus shoots him down, "YOU should be preparing the strike force to retake Phobos, Tlu'urn has already been briefed. You must plan with him". Each order tears at Ta'aun as worse as any Torch Hammer blast. He must go on alone, only he can take this burden. Companionship will not last long in the fight to come. Just as the Primus believes there's is nothing more to say, he feels a hand on his shoulder. It is gentle, warm, comforting, something he had long forgotten. Any other time would warrant a harsh reprimand. The battlefield has no place for compassion, but this is no battlefield. He lets the hand linger, knowing it will probably be the last time. The Last Day Now, all Ta'aun hears is screaming. The cries of dying legionnaires and the howls of Hive collapsing to dust. He sees Hive crawling out of every corner of this putrid ship while Taken warp out of nothingness; some wearing his men like cloaks. The smells of this wretched ship claw at his lungs. But he presses on. The portal cannot be far. The way to Oryx, the way to victory. But so many enemies, so much blood. A legionnaire to his right disappears under a thrall horde before a grenade takes them all out. A knight to his left cuts a phalanx in half. The Taken keep multiplying like a foul virus. Too many to count. Too many dead soldiers. Then out of nowhere a transmission from the rear guard. Terrified. Frantic. "Guardian INBOUND. It's too powerful, we cannot hold! We cannot-AAAGH-...." Dead silence. Nothing more to do now but press on. Only death lies behind the Primus now. But in front, there's still a chance, even against this howling horde. There has to be. Ta'aun reaches a pedestal. He hopes for a second that he can rally his men, but that hope dies in an instant. He is alone. His legionnaires have gone silent. Nothing but shrieking and dying and...wizards. Wizards, a dozen, all flying around him, chanting, singing, laughing. He shoots one down, but two more arise. "What are they doing?", he thinks to himself. Then Ta'aun feels a tug from behind and senses as though a jaw is opening behind him. He remembers the fall of Korus and realizes in a second it's all over. Ta'aun remembers the hand on his shoulder, the warmth, the brotherhood. He remembers his comrades on Mars and hopes they do not follow him here. He came here alone, he will die alone. At least they won't. And for one last instant, Ta'aun is at peace. Then, the jaws close, the tug pulls and all the Primus sees is darkness. EDIT:Wow, lot of love for this. Keep bumping and follow if you want. Stay cool guardians! EDIT2:I'll be posting other stories in the future. Probably not as good as this one but I'll try my best. Thanks for the support!