- Bar1Scorpio
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- Exalted Member
"TANSTAAFL - There Ain't No Such Thing As A Free Lunch!" - Robert Heinlein
Every Elite thinks about war, about fighting, but those worthless Unggoy seem to think about everything. It came from the way they were exploited. They started off doing every menial task that the Sangheilli didn't want to do, becuase those jobs were beneath a warrior.
By the time of the Rebellion, where they won the opportunity to carry arms, they had taken the next great leap. Being allowed into military areas of a Covenant vessel. Now, they did every damn job an Elite, or a Jackal or a Skirmisher or a Brute, just found inconvenient.. He could think on one hand the number of Sangheilli Quartermasters he'd actually ever spoken to, face to face.
He knew they held that rank, only Sangheilli could take administrative posts. But every time he needed to confirm a new billet, to log the recharge on his Plasma rifle and Repeater, to request a Datapad or a Songbook - It was an Unggoy who processed his 'paperwork'. Dismissively sniffing into his rebreather as he shuffled about the necessary work of processing his data.
A race of diminutive beings that most would gladly crush for any perceived offense were entrenching themselves within the military bureaucracy. And an Sangheilli Zealot couldn't get them to waddle out of that trench, no matter how good the prospects on the field look.
His Uncle had told him once. "Watch the little dodgers. Many's the Elite whot got arrogant. A little too big for 'is harness."
"Thought 'Leadership' meant smashing the wee blammers into a shape they weren't to conform to. Thought killin' a 'andful of them would make the others obey. Not question, not resent, but obey like little model soldiers. Next time 'e's leading into battle - and 'e makes the mistake of gettin' in front of those boyos, instead of standin' in back, firin' over their 'eads for the clearance. Maybe 'is legs are too long. Maybe 'e smells the kill. Maybe 'e thinks there's a big bunch of commendations to stick on 'is breastplate. The last thing 'e 'ears is a little blue sizzle stuck to his back. 'Oh, bugger, sez 'e. I shoulda thought them capable of something like this. And it's the Rebellion all over again, my lad.'"