"The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown."
- H.P. Lovecraft
Silence is a strange thing.
Nearly in the same way it deprives your ears, it also fills them- almost as if one's brain cannot accept the lack of information. Too much of it, and you can be driven to the point of insanity. Too little, and your mind will become restless. While it can be a source of great strength, it can be a sign of incredible weakness.
Silence reigned within the halls of the cargo ship. The UNSC Silent Samaritan.
The smell of death filled the ship's cargo bays in a thick fog, even overpowering the lingering scent of gunpowder and fire. Bodies littered the floors alongside cold brass and metal, the only remaining signs of conflict.
The metal interior walls and floors had long since become cold and barren, vandalized with abstract paintings of splotched red.
Stillness filled the vast corridors and rooms, a symbolic calm before the storm.
"Mark."
In a flurry of metal and lights, two figures stormed the hallway. The sound of metallic clanking followed close behind and rang through the empty space as the boots of their armor hit the ground beneath them, their metallic visors glistening in reflections of dull light. Their movements were fluid and natural- almost inhuman looking as they stepped over decaying bodies and scanned the room.
Spartans.
"Clear left," the first voice said.
"Clear right," the other.
"Copy, 2-2. Clean Sweep. Stack for secondary and await mark. Sync?"
"Sync."
Gathering outside the hallway's largest door, one on either side, they raised their weapons in a high-ready position, their tactical lights illuminating the ceiling above them. After a brief silence, the soldiers gave eachother a short nod.
"Mark."
The two Spartans readied their weapons and swung out of their temporary cover, initially scanning the middle of the doorway with their flashlights before quickly falling in a two-wide wall, pushing through the door. Once they had cleared the small, tunnel-like divider between the first hallway and the room, They split in a "V" formation, methodically sweeping corners and boxes with the barrels of their rifles before deciding the room was empty.
"Clear left," the first voice recited again.
"Clear right."
"Copy, 2-2. Clean sweep."
The two lowered their weapons slightly, giving the other a small nod before proceeding.
"Approaching the objective. Stack for primary breach and await my mark," the first soldier said calmly as he maneuvered to a large, fortified door, planting his back against the wall beside it as the second did the same on the wall to the door's other side.
"Sync?"
"Sync."
The first Spartan reached into a utility pouch on his left thigh and produced a small, square-shaped breach charge. Entering a four digit passcode into the keypad of the device, he holstered his rifle onto his back and positioned the charge at the center of the door. Clicking a small trigger on the side, a hissing noise was produced as the device cut a hole through the door, latching onto the opposite side with metallic hooks.
Planting himself back onto the wall, he glanced in the direction of his partner. "Stay sharp. If something is still here with us and still doesn't know we're here, they will now. We go loud in five."
Receiving a short nod in response, he grasped a small metal clicker from the same pouch on his leg.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
With a squeeze of his hand, a spectacular explosion of light and sparks entered the room as the door blasted off its hinges and flew past the soldiers in a mess of metal and debris. The blast created an ocean of orange and white reflections across the men's chestpieces.
"Mark!"
In a flash of movement, the pair split into complex paths, barrels tracing corners and around obstacles as they proceeded through the room. They had entered a large cargo bay, filled with storage crates and small vehicles. Although one large room, thin dividers separated the space into smaller sections. After several short phases of clearing, they had reached the final tier of the bay.
"On my mark," the first voice ordered. "Sync?"
"Sync."
Steeling himself and tightening his grip on his rifle, the first solider took one final assessment of the room and gave the order.
"Mark!"
No amount of training, physical or mental, could have prepared them for what they found.
At first, painted with small orbs of light from their helmet lights and flashlights, they weren't entirely sure what it was they were looking at. However, after they began to close the distance, it became clear.
A massive pile of bodies, almost ceiling height, filled the eastern corner of the room, all in varying states of decay. Some even seemed to merge together, connected by pale green boils and strands.
"Jesus. You seeing this?"
"Yeah. If the rest of the ship looks anything like this, I don't think there were any survivors."
"What could be capable of this kind of damage?"
"Unsure. I'd recommend taking immediate quarantine precautions and proceeding with tissue sample collection for our eggheads to take a look at once we're back home. I'll post on the doorway until we're ready to move."
With a nod, the second Spartan removed a small kit from his chest piece and began inspecting the mass of bodies in front of him.
"Holy shit," he mumbled absentmindedly. "I've never seen anything like this."
As he scraped and inspected the mass, it started to move.
"Sir? Something's happening," he said with a cautious tone.
Almost on queue, a loud scraping sound came from one of the rooms behind them. Planting his hand on the pistol grip of his rifle, he removed it from his back and began slowly moving towards the door, weapon ready. Once he had reached his ally, he planted his free hand on his shoulder. "Ready."
The first soldier nodded back at him before turning back to the dark room before them. "Identify!"
After a few seconds of silence, the second Spartan clapped his hand on his squad-mate's shoulder and they began to move, unsure of what to expect.