15th of the Third Umbral Wind, Year 1157 of the Twenty-Sixth Age
(June 14th, 2157 Council Era)
It is six in the morning, on the thirteenth of the second umbral waters. Loyal warriors, scholars and children of humanity, awaken, and prepare for your morning rites. Today's reading is from The Book of the Hellwalker, chapter two, verse six:
"Despite their courage and their tenacity, the Young Sentinels found themselves pushed by the hellspawn to the outer gates of New Corrax, and they began to despair - for if their dwindling numbers were to fall, Hell itself would bring slaughter and blood upon the city. It is recorded, then, that as the last three dozen of the Young Sentinels prepared one last, holy stand, the skies split and the hosts of Hell itself cried out in terror, and from the skies
HE emerged from a hell-portal, ever-clad in the PRAETOR and carrying an instrument of judgement in each hand. In HIS left hand, he carried Flesh-Ripper, the chainsaw-blade of purity; in HIS right, he carried Bone-Tearer, the holy double-barreled shotgun."
"The DOOM SLAYER tore himself from this portal and fell to the grounds, and it is known that the forces of Hell cried out in terror, sputtering curses and begging for mercy. But this only infuriated the DOOM SLAYER, for the very concept of mercy upon Hell was impossible to even comprehend. That day, New Corrax did not fall, for the Young Sentinels were reminded of their duty, and they followed the DOOM SLAYER into glorious, holy, carnage. They killed demon and hellspawn and heretic for many days, and on the dawn of the fifth day after HIS arrival they stood atop a mountain of corpses and an ocean of blood."
Loyal humans, do not forget your sacred duty. Do not hesitate in your daily work, and do not falter as the Young Sentinels did in that early age. Know that you represent the holy and the righteous, and that it is better to die standing than to fear like a coward.
Now, loyal humans, join me in the first recital of the day: yours is the shield that guards us from sin...
Saren Arterius snapped awake in his bunk, and pulled his clock up in his HUD as he swung out of bed. Not good, Saren thought, as the readout noted it was oh-six-oh-five. Slept in five minutes. Getting rusty. He grumbled to himself as he put his armour back on, and made his way out of the small private room and into the corridors of the Stalwart; a minute later, he entered the ship's bridge and walked over to Captain Lucidus.
"Spectre Arterius," Cantus said with a small nod, glancing away from his command console. "You're up early."
"I didn't want to miss any of the day's work, Captain."
"Hmm. You know, there isn't any work to be done quite yet," Cantus replied with a smile. "Not until the research teams finish their little test."
"Which they will be doing today, correct?"
"Yes, they will - it's scheduled to start in about an hour, Spectre Arterius. I'm assured by the science teams that they've cracked whatever it is that's blocked our previous attempts at using the relay."
"I apologize if I came off as...brusque," Saren said, looking out of the cockpit at the seemingly-infested relay. "That...thing, out there. It makes my carapace itchy just looking at it, and there's a small part of me that keeps saying we ought to just leave the damned thing alone."
"Ignoring the relay won't make it go away."
"I know that, Captain," Saren replied, sighing.
"You're not the only one with doubts - but I wouldn't worry. You get used to it after a while," Cantus said, shrugging. "I'm not saying it isn't unbelievably disturbing, mind you, just that after a while you kind of forget how gross it is."
"That doesn't make me feel any better. If anything, it makes me even more ill-at-ease," Saren grumbled. He stood in silence for the next while, unable to tear his eyes away from the fleshy, pulsing tendrils which covered the mass relay. They pulsed in time with the blood-red heart of the relay, sigils and runes flashing brightly in the black of space-
"-Spectre Arterius? Saren?" Saren snapped away from the mass relay to find Captain Lucidus looking at him with a concerned expression. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, yes - just lost in my thoughts."
"Well, the test is about to start, if you'd like to observe."
Saren nodded and leaned up against a nearby section of hull; the ship's speakers flared as a message came through.
"Citadel Fleet Cruiser Stalwart, this is Research Vessel Silverthread," an asari voice said. "We're about to launch the probe."
"Silverthread," Captain Lucidus replied, "this is Stalwart. Our signals teams are standing by."
"Understood. Test probe number six, launching in three, two, one, launched."
Saren watched as one of the vessels to the right of the Stalwart fired a small pod, little more than an engine and thrusters wrapped in a metal casing, towards the mass relay. It streaked towards its target, and as it neared the relay flickering tendrils of red and brown licked out of the relay core and wrapped around the pod.
"Test probe interfacing with the relay, stand by - goddess," the asari shouted, "it's working!"
The relay flashed a bright neon-red and for a moment Saren swore he could see a rip in space appear in front of the pod; seconds later, the pod winked out of sight, and a white shockwave burst out of the relay.
"BRACE POSITIONS!" Captain Lucidus shouted, and Saren clenched his teeth as he mag-clamped himself to a nearby handhold. The wave passed through the ship with a shuddering groan, and Saren felt an overwhelming sense of dread puncture his calm for a split second. The feeling passed, though, and he looked around.
"Report," Cantus said.
"We're all in the clear," one of the bridge crew said. "Whatever the wave did, it was - spirits, look at the relay!"
Saren looked up and had to remember to close his mouth as he saw the mass relay - the tendrils and fiery-red core were gone, and in their place was the natural metallic-blue body and a glowing green core. The projected runes, too, were different; they no longer flashed, and instead shone solid.
"Green?" Lucidus asked, tone cautious. "Are mass relays supposed to be green?"
"No, but they're not supposed to be on fire and covered in tentacles either," Saren said slowly.
"Hmph. Is that humour I detect?" Lucidus asked, before turning on his comm unit. "Silverthread, status report." He waited for a few moments, then frowned. "Silverthread, status report."
"No response, Captain," one of the bridge crew said nervously. "They're not broadcasting an emergency signal - maybe the shockwave damaged their comms?"
"We're fine. Doesn't make any sense," Lucidus muttered under his breath. "Keep trying to raise them," he said, before activating the shipwide comm. "Away team one, stand by for possible intel-rescue mission."
"Rescue?" Saren asked.
"Plan for the worst, right? You wanted work, and now you have it," Cantus said, staring at the relay.
Saren grunted in response and jogged back to his quarters. He pulled open his weapons locker and clamped his trusty shotgun and assault rifle to his back, then stuffed his chest rig with shock grenades and flashbangs; after a quick weapons check he sealed his lockers, put on his helmet and made his way into the Stalwart's hangar. The hangar was unusually crowded, with engineers prepping shuttles and marines forming up in staging areas. He walked over to the shuttle closest to the airlock loading bay, where a dozen marines in full combat gear were checking each other's equipment. They glanced up as Saren approached, and one walked over to him.
"Spectre Arterius," the marine said, standing at attention. "Thanks for the assist."
"You can thank me if I actually end up assisting you," Saren noted, offering his arm. They clasped arms, and Saren nodded. "Name and rank?"
"Sergeant Plitus Merinian, Spectre."
"Any experience with boarding action?"
"My squad's done several tours dedicated to anti-pirate operations, Spectre. More breach-and-clears than I can count."
"Excellent. Let's get loaded up and prepare for launch." Saren followed Sergeant Merinian onto the shuttle with the rest of the marines and buckled himself in as the shuttle's pilot began the pre-flight checks.
"Hey," one of the marines said, looking at Saren, "you're a Spectre, right? We expectin' trouble?"
"I'm just here in case anything happens, marine."
"Brass talk for shit's going down!" another said, laughing as he mimed firing a rifle. "Been cooped up on this damn ship for weeks. Be nice to shoot at something."
"Stow it, Albinus," Sergeant Merinian said, sighing. "Alright. This is supposed to be a simple check-up - Silverthread's gone dark after that shockwave and we're here to figure out why. If anything this is search and rescue, not a varren hunt. Last thing I need is the Captain ripping me a new one because one of you idiots shot a civ. Clear?"
"Yes, Sergeant!" the marines barked back.
"Alright. Ship's a standard three-decker and you've got the maps, folks. Stay cool and we'll be fine. Pilot, we good to go?" Plitus shouted towards the cockpit.
"Yessir, just got cleared for launch. Stand by. Launch Control, this is SM-one-twenty, requesting transfer to launch bay...understood," the pilot said. "Buckle in, folks, we're off."
The shuttle rumbled as the rear hatch sealed and the ship was transferred into the airlock; Saren craned his head and watched as the shuttle left the Stalwart. The other ships in the convoy were now moving away from the Silverthread, a research vessel of asari make and styling. By the time the shuttle arrived at the sealed landing bay of the Silverthread the fleet had assumed a loose spherical formation around the now-dark science ship.
"Lights are out," the pilot said, "but we'll try anyways. Silverthread, this is Stalwart shuttle M-one-two-zero, requesting you open your landing bay and grant docking permission." The pilot waited for several moments, and frowned as there was no response. "Silverthread, this is Stalwartshuttle M-one-two-zero, requesting your open your landing bay and grant docking permission."
"Don't think they're going to respond," Saren said.
"Alright, plan B," the pilot muttered. "Silverthread, you have another minute to respond to our request. After that this shuttle will breach the landing bay doors using an entry charge. Any personnel in the hangar are advised to stay well clear of the landing bay."
The minute passed in silence.
"Silverthread, we have received no response and will now proceed to breach the landing bay doors. Final warning to anyone inside that hangar - stay way from the doors."
The shuttle moved up towards the landing bay doors and rumbled as its underbelly opened; a manipulator extended from beneath the cockpit and planted a gunmetal-grey pyramid on the landing bay doors, flat-side down.
"Charge is set," the pilot said. "Here we go - detonating in three, two, one, breach." The pyramid's tip lit up for a split second before exploding inwards in a white-hot flash; the shuttle rammed through the weakened section of hull immediately afterwards and spun as it screeched through the landing bay doors, the rear hatch slamming into the hangar floor. "We're clear, move!"
Saren and the marines all unbuckled themselves and sprinted out of the shuttle, weapons at a low-ready, and fanned out into the hangar - which was, as far as Saren could tell, entirely empty and running on emergency lighting.
"Clear right!"
"Clear left!"
"Clear!" Sergeant Merinian looked over at Saren, and then scanned the dimly-lit hangar again. "No crew."
"Perhaps," Saren noted, moving over to one of the Silverthread's shuttles, "they got the message about the breach." He looked inside, found it empty, and shrugged as he moved onto the next shuttle.
A thorough sweep of the hangar revealed nothing, and the group stacked up by the main door out of the hangar as Sergeant Merinian gestured to one of the marines. "Lavus, terminal."
"On it, sarge." The marine jogged over to a nearby maintenance terminal, and his omnitool lit up; Lavus looked over his shoulder a few moments later and shook his head. "Shockwave must have screwed with the network or something - I'm locked into the hangar network and getting nothing but error messages."
"Damn. Alright, back here. Saren?" Plitus asked.
"I'll take point," Saren said, hitting the manual door release. The hatch hissed open, and Saren sliced the doorway, moving into the corridor beyond with his shotgun raised. The marines followed closely behind, and they stopped at the lone room between the hangar and the elevator - a small door marked as storage. Saren once again led the way, and looked around the room, which was full of crates, lockers and racks of various scientific equipment. He paused, crouching over a small collection of spilled drink canisters and half-eaten snacks which were on the floor. "Odd," he said aloud, standing back up.
"What, a bunch of the crew just...decided to drop their food on the floor?" Lavus asked.
"Hey," Albinus said, "if the Stalwart got all fucked up by a relay going haywire I'd probably drop my food too."
"Everyone, all at once, though?" Saren noted. "And that still doesn't explain where all the crew are. Let's keep moving."
The marines followed Saren out of the room and into the main elevator; Saren hit the button for the second deck, and frowned as an error message flashed on the terminal.
"Error," a synthesized voice said. "Research deck remains in lockdown due to hazardous condition: fuel leak, coolant leak, life support failure. Deck lockdown will be lifted upon all-clear from bridge."
"Fuel leak?" one of the marines said nervously. "Spirits, sarge, nobody said anything about a fuel leak."
"Well, we'd better get to the bridge and figure out what the hell's going on then," Plitus said, nodding at Saren.
Thankfully, the elevator controls had no issue with bringing the boarding party to the top deck, and Sergeant Merinian looked at his rifle as the doors closed. "So. Fuel leak. You know the drill, folks - low-yield concs, omni-batons. Getting cooked or spaced isn't on my agenda."
The marines all grumbled as they activated their rifles' concussive shot modes and activated their omnitools; several tested flash-fabricating blunt batons from their omnitools. Saren, on the other hand, simply unholstered his shotgun and let his biotics flare to life around him. Several of the marines flinched or tried to step away.
"Shit, you're a biotic?" Lavus asked.
"Is that a problem?"
"No," the marine replied in a tone that was entirely unconvincing. Saren snorted a laugh in response, took a deep breath, and twirled his knife around as the elevator ascended. A few moments later, the doors opened.
The corridor outside was full of corpses; some were so badly mutilated that it was hard to tell what species they originally were. The bodies had been shoved to the sides of the corridor and stacked to the ceiling, forming a a tunnel of meat leading to the next door. Saren slowly glanced up, not moving out of the elevator, and shuddered as he noticed the thick smears of blood dripping from the ceiling, and strange symbols that resembled the mass relay's runes drawn on exposed inch of wall using a mixture of crushed organs and viscera. The floor itself was barely visible beneath an ankle-high pool of grey-blue blood, which was now seeping into the elevator.
Saren pushed his disgust into the back of his mind and continued into the corridor, his boots squelching as they hit the floor, and he paused as he heard something - a mumbling, gasping groan. He spun to the side to find that, half-buried into the pile of bodies, someone's head was sticking out. It was a quarian, he realized, who appeared to have been torn out of his suit; the quarian's eyes were barely open.
"Please," the quarian managed to groan.
"What in the hell happened here?" Saren asked. The quarian simply shut his eyes, and Saren knelt down to pull the quarian out the pile of bodies. There was a squelch and a crunching noise, and Saren watched in horror as the quarian came free - missing the entire lower half of his naked body, his torso covered in massive gashes. "How - how the fuck are you still alive?"
"Please."
"Answers, now," Saren growled. "Answer me, damn you!"
The quarian closed his eyes, mouth opening and closing as he gasped for air.
Saren slit the quarian's throat and dumped his corpse into the ever-growing pool of blood on the floor, then stood back up to walk over to the security hatch. He looked back at the marines, all of whom were still in the elevator. "You guys gonna sit in that elevator all day, or are you coming with me?"
The marines followed behind Saren as he opened the hatch; the group was greeted with a similar sight as they entered the next corridor: bodies everywhere and more of those strange symbols painted on every exposed surface. They cleared several crew cabins, a lounge, and a small kitchen, all in the same state of horrifying chaos - but no other survivors. At last, they arrived at the door to the bridge, and with a deep breath Saren led the way through.
It was as though Saren had stepped into hell itself: the remaining crew, about two dozen, were all naked and gathered together in the CIC, and a small pile of bodies had been heaped onto the main holo-board. The crew were busy chanting in a tongue his translator didn't know, painting those horrid symbols on walls and mutilating themselves with kitchen knives, scalpels and various other sharp implements; the crew were so consumed in their work that they failed to notice Saren and the marines taking up firing positions.
"What in the actual fuck," one of the marines whispered.
"We're here to rescue these people? We should kill 'em all," Lavus hissed.
"Nonlethals only," Sergeant Merinian said. "Saren, you have the honours."
Saren shouldered his shotgun, and let off a burst of concussive shots; three of the crew were knocked to the ground, and Saren's eyes widened in disbelief as they simply got back up and screamed so loudly that his helmet's aural dampeners kicked in. The entire crew, as if posessed, all turned, screamed together, and rushed towards the firing line.
"Fire at will," Saren said, letting the familiar rush of battle soothe his nerves. The group opened fire, launching barrage after barrage of concussive blasts, yet the crew kept getting back up when anyone sane and not a krogan would have stopped from the pain.
"Medium yields," Plitus shouted, "and go for the legs!"
The marines all began firing concussive shots that were far louder, the bridge filling with the crack-thoom of their fire. The attacking crew were no longer being knocked to the ground; instead, they were being flung backwards into the walls with bone-crunching force. Still, they continued to rise, sprinting back towards the marines even as their twisted and shattered limbs gave out under them. Saren grit his teeth, set his shotgun's concussive force to lethal, and opened fire - and took a step back as an asari crewmember's head exploded and yet -
"She's still alive?" he shouted in horror, as the headless asari corpse continued to sprint at him. Focus, he thought, firing another shot at her legs; the asari's body from the waist down crumped from the blast's force, and even still the body continued to claw its way along the floor with its hands.
"What the FUCK IS GOING ON? Nobody said we were fighting the undead!" one of the marines screamed, turning to run to the elevator with another marine close behind.
"HOLD THE LINE," Saren barked. "LETHAL CONCS! DISMEMBER THE LEGS FIRST AND DON'T STOP SHOOTING UNTIL THEY STOP MOVING!"
The battle raged on for what felt like an eternity, and when the last of the crew was little more than a twitching pile of paste smeared across the bridge's walls, Saren let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.
"Clear," Plitus said in a shaky voice. "Sound off."
Eight of the marines checked in, breathing heavily; four didn't respond, and Saren looked back to find one marine on the ground by the elevator rocking back in forth on the ground, and two standing ramrod-still, unmoving.
"Tanis! Druso! Wake the fuck up!" Plitus said, shaking both marines. One of them shook his head and looked around at the carnage before him, stammering incoherently, when the other screamed and raised his shotgun, firing a concussive shot that blasted Sergeant Merinian into the wall.
"Stay back! STAY BACK! DON'T TOUCH ME!" Druso shouted, waving his rifle around wildly. "DON'T TOUCH ME YOU SPIRI-"
Saren slammed Druso into the wall, knocked his rifle away, and held him in place with a biotic field. "Druso! What the FUCK are you doing?"
The marine simply began to sob, shaking his head furiously and struggling under Saren's grip; Saren growled, swore, and punched the marine in the head with a biotic punch.
"Spirits' shit," Plitus groaned, getting off the ground. "You knock him out?"
"Yeah," Saren said, panting.
"Thanks."
"Don't thank me," Saren replied, staring into the bridge. "We have to explain all of this shit to someone."
"Alright. We're missing Faussius," Plitus said. "Anyone know where he is?"
"He got into the elevator, I think," Albinus replied.
"Alright. Albinus, Lauritian, go back to the hangar, figure out where he is, tell Santux to prep the shuttle. Lavus, with Saren - go figure out what the fuck happened up here. Rest of you with me - we're keeping an eye on Tanis and Druso," Plitus said, nodding at Saren.
"Lavus - you check the CIC boards, and I'll see if I can pull anything off the command consoles." Saren made his way into the bridge proper and attempted to activate the command console; his omnitool linked up with it, but he recieved nothing but error messages and garbled data. Saren logged the data he received, and returned to find Lavus cursing as he pried open the base of the main holo-board.
"Doesn't make any spirits-damned sense. It's running on aux power and it lights up, but it keeps spitting errors at me," Lavus muttered. "You get anything, Spectre?"
"No - same as you."
"Wiring seems fine, and my scans are all clear," Lavus said, checking his omnitool. "Maybe it's got something to do with the second deck being all fucked up?"
"Plausible," Saren noted. "We're not going to get anything at this rate - we might as well leave."
"More than happy to get the hell off this deathtrap," Lavus agreed.
The group returned to the elevator - with one marine carrying Druso - and descended back to the bottom deck. Making their way into the hangar, the group found Albinus and Lauritian standing over the missing marine, Faussius, who was curled up in the corner of landing bay.
"Sarge! He won't move," Albinus shouted, waving the group over. "I tried to get him up and he threw his rifle at me," he said, gesturing at the second rifle on Lauritian's back.
"So? Pick him up and get him on the damn shuttle. We're leaving," Plitus barked.
Albninus and Lauritian both knelt down and grabbed Faussius and wrenched him to his feet; Faussius fought back for a moment before muttering something and going limp. Plitus sighed as the full group returned to the shuttle - the ramp already lowered - and buckled themselves in as the pilot, Santux, leaned out of his seat and looked at the group.
"Spirits, and I thought Albinus looked like shit. You guys alright?"
"Just get us off this ship," Plitus said, rubbing at his helmet.
"You got it."
The trip back to the Stalwart passed in silence, save for Santux's request that the convoy move away from the Silverthread and prep a hazard tent; Captain Lucidus was already waiting once the ship docked in the Stalwart's hangar. The second the ramp lowered, he nearly doubled over, and several of the engineers and hangar crew nearby covered their faces; two actually vomited.
"Is there a reason you people are covered in gore and smell like a mountain of rotting corpses?" Lucidus asked, clearly doing his best to remain stoic.
"Crew of the Silverthread went crazy, Captain," Plitus said, remaining on the dropship. "Best for you to see the footage directly, sir."
"Right. Get cleaned up, and we'll do debrief. Any wounded?"
"PFC Aetna here is unconcious. Needs to be restrained just in case - he attacked me before Spectre Arterius knocked him out. Got a few guys in shock, too."
"Alright. I'll be waiting in my quarters when you're ready, Sergeant."
A group of deckhands - these ones wearing hazard suits - pushed several crates over to the back of the dropship, and deployed a temporary quarantine tent; Saren went first and was ushered into a decon tube. A few moments later, he stepped out, his armour free of the gory paste that had built up on it, and waited outside for Sergeant Plitus. After another five minutes, the Sergeant emerged, and after glancing back at his men who were being escorted towards the hangar's medbay for a moment the two walked over to the main elevator and emerged at the top deck. They exited, walked down the corridor to the captain's quarters and entered the already-open doorway to find Cantus sitting at his desk. Both men removed their helmets; Saren stood at attention as Plitus saluted.
"Please, come in," the Captain said, gesturing at the seats opposite him. Saren and Plitus sat down, and Captain Lucidus rubbed at his fringe. "So, would either of you like to explain why the Silverthread - which was working just fine up until the relay fired that wave - is apparently in danger of exploding, and why you people walked out of your shuttle covered in gore?" He tapped at his console, and nodded at Plitus. "Helmet footage, please," he said. Sergeant Merinian nodded in return and tapped at his omnitool; the projector in Cantus' desk lit up and the Captain watched the footage intently. Once it finished, he looked at the two sitting opposite him and pointed at the looping footage. "Explain. Now. And don't leave anything out, because I'm the one who has to write a spirits-damned report as to what the hell all this is."
"There's not much to explain, Captain," Saren said, shaking his head. "No crew in the hangar deck, second deck suffered some sort of catastrophic failure, and...the crew appeared to have turned completely insane?"
"I...I don't know what to say, sir," Plitus said after a moment. "The...the crew, they fought like animals. Would be bad enough, but then Saren blew off the head of that asari and she just kept coming. Same with the rest of them. And the...runes? Glyphs? They were all painting the walls and ceilings with blood and whatnot." Plitus shuddered and closed his eyes. "It's not, well, natural, Captain. And my men - bunch of them broke rank. Druso - PFC Aetna - even shot me with a concussion blast, Captain. I've watched all of these men fight against overwhelming odds, and they've all seen some heinous shi - stuff on pirate vessels, but they just...broke. Sir."
There was a long pause.
"I'm not a superstitious man," Saren said, breaking the silence, "but if I were, I would probably say that this...situation was distinctly of the occult." Saren shrugged. "It doesn't make any sense, and I doubt any research team is going to want to go back onto that ship, given the likelihood that the Silverthread is going to explode soon."
"Alright. Alright, for the sake of simplicity let's just forget about the why behind the crew's insanity and the gore paint and the corpse piles. Why did this not affect the rest of the convoy?" Cantus asked. "The Silverthread's shielding isn't as powerful as the security vessels in our group, yes, but none of the other research vessels suffered this...breakdown."
"Perhaps it's because the Silverthread was the one that launched the probe?" Plitus offered. "I mean, that's not really a reason, but given how little spirits-damned sense any of this makes..."
More silence.
Captain Lucidus sighed, and leaned back in his chair. "Why don't you two go and get some food and some rest. I need to somehow write a report about this madness and kick this up the chain."
16th of the Third Umbral Wind, Year 1157 of the Twenty-Sixth Age
(June 15th, 2157 Council Era)
It is six in the morning, on the fourteenth of the second umbral waters. Loyal warriors, scholars and children of humanity, awaken, and prepare for your morning rites. Today's reading is from The Book of Doom, chapter four, verse six.
"And so the wise folk of the city-state of Oxacas gathered beyond the gates, and they fell to their knees before the DOOM SLAYER, and they begged of him: O Great One, who walks amongst the Hells and knows no fear; O Great One, who kills without need of blade, what would you have us do? In our time of need, if you cannot come to our aid, what shall we do?"
"But the DOOM SLAYER said nothing, and simply pointed at the burning corpse of the Daemon Imperator which lay behind HIM, a mountain of flesh which blocked out the very sun. Then the DOOM SLAYER walked over to the dead beast, whose mighty head lay upon the earth, and with HIS hands he tore open the skull of the foul creature. HE lead the wise folk into the body of the demon, ripping and tearing with HIS hands to create tunnels of flesh and blood which could be trod open without trouble."
"HE spent many days with the wise folk within the Daemon Imperator, and without words HE taught the wise folk many things. How to carve runes of bloodlust and war from the bones of the enemy. How to draw wards of healing and protection with the steaming blood of the demon. How to purify hell-flesh to eat in times of need. This, and many things more, which the wise folk would take to heart."
"Many suns later, the DOOM SLAYER carved the way to the hindquarters of the Daemon Imperator, and the wise folk fell to their knees again. O Great One, who has taught us the ways of the HELLWALKER and BLOOD-DRINKER and FLESH-TEARER, how can we ever thank you for the countless blessings you have bestowed upon us?
"Then the wise folk wept tears of joy, for they were the lucky few who had the chance to hear the UNCHAINED PREDATOR speak aloud! Glory to them, for they were touched by HIS words. HE ripped open the behind of the Daemon Imperator, leading the wise folk into the light of the sun once more, and HE gestured at the many miles they had walked through the dead demon, and the command HE gave was the most sacred and important of all, spoken with such hate and ferocity that the entire planet shook from HIS mighty speech:"
"RIP AND TEAR. UNTIL IT IS DONE."
So it was spoken, and so it is obeyed. We, who are HIS servants; we, who are the bulwark against the heretic and the demon and the unclean, must carry out HIS order."
Loyal humans, do not forget your sacred duty. Know that the work of humanity shall not end and that humanity cannot rest. Not until every demon, every heretic, every denizen of hell has been ripped to pieces, the flesh torn from their bones and their bones ground to dust and the dust burned in the fires of purity.
Now, loyal humans, join me in the first recital of the day: yours is the shield that guards us from sin...
The Councilors sat.
They sat in silence, watching the footage again, and again, and again.
It was Tevos who broke the quiet.
"Goddess protect, how are we going to explain this - any of this - to the general public, when I can barely explain what happened to begin with?"
"Have you even read all of the reports?" Valern asked quietly, shaking his head.
"No - my aide gave them to me only moments before the meeting," Herane replied. "Do they...elucidate the situation at all?"
"They don't," Sparatus grumbled. "Not in the slightest. Nothing makes any spirits-damned sense. One of the reports - document sixteen, I believe - points out that, even assuming that this shockwave could magically cause the crew of the Silverthread to succumb to insanity, there are still problems. The blood, for example - the footage shows Spectre Arterius and the marines being nearly ankle-deep in blood once they arrive on the top deck of the ship. There wouldn't have been that much blood if you combined all of the fluids of every crew-member on the ship - you'd need nearly triple the number of crew to achieve that. Or the quarian. How was he still alive and talking, despite being removed - forcibly - from his suit and ripped in half for more than fifteen minutes? How-"
"-I understand, Fallox," Tevos snapped. "The fact that none of this is possible, let alone plausible, is not lost on me."
More silence.
"Let's put aside how we break this to the public for a moment," Valern noted. "That, frankly, is less important than deciding what we do now.
"Well, I think security is the top priority," Sparatus replied. "Whatever is beyond that relay is clearly dangerous - nobody is going to debate that. We shore up defensive posture around that relay, and then we try and figure out what's beyond it, in order to ascertain the nature of this threat."
"And if...this," Valern said, gesturing to the looping footage, "happens again?"
"An unfortunate, but necessary loss," Sparatus said quietly. "Imagine if this madness inflicted any major city in Citadel space - the casualties would be enormous, the repercussions impossible to handle. I'm exaggerating a little, sure, but we have no reference for how this event happened and no knowledge about the mechanics behind it. Besides, the mass relay in question was already active when we arrived at the scene - which means that something on the other side activated it. If - when - the people who turned the relay on come into contact with us, we have to be ready, whether that means asking them questions or gunning them down."
Herane looked thoughtful, and she took a deep breath before speaking. "Alright. We'll start by prepping the Citadel Fleet transfers, then - we'll need to call in Fleet Admiral Juturna..."
Plitus sighed as he returned, once again, to the Chalua Hospital entrance; after several more debriefings and meetings, he and the rest of his squad had been sworn to secrecy and transferred back to the Citadel for "temporary stress-related leave," whatever that meant. By rote, he made his way into the psychiatric ward, signed in at the front desk and was ushered into the depths of the hospital past several guarded secure checkpoints. He met with the usual doctor, and looked inside to find Druso watching a sitcom with a bored expression. "Is he doing any better?" Plitus asked.
"I'm afraid not," the asari psychologist said, shaking her head. "Druso seems normal enough most of the time, but there are...incongruities in his behaviour. He keeps drawing those runes we saw in the helmet-cam footage, and if pressed as to why he gets violent. He also refuses to admit that he attacked you, even when presented with evidence. The worst of it, though, happens in the evenings." The asari frowned. "Almost every night, in the middle of his sleep cycle, he just sits up in bed, and he starts mimicking those gibberish chants he heard from those cultists..."
