~N7*
Stanza 7 · The Prothean Dig Site
We three go on, to the lip of a dell,
A deep rounded hollow, it's paths travelled well.
Down at the dig-site, the sun's ray are gone
And the darkness of evening is quite far along.
The gleam and clang of a swift metal body
Slick sterilized white, shiny and gaudy,
And a Geth and more move in the shadow and stones.
The tread of their feet is like breaking of bones.
Alenko's bright omnitool flashes,
Overloading their circuitry
His gleaming biotic force lashes
The Geth at velocity.
Williams is not a biotic
But boy can she handle a gun!
Deadly and sharp, far beyond quick
Quick and knows which way to run
My biotic warp fields crumble the Geth
Had they been alive, they would now know death.
Unliving, unbreathing, insensate steel!
They do not live so they can't die … or feel.
We came on them swiftly from out of the dusk
We saw them plain, but they never saw us.
They fall in the twilight down on rugged stone
And we three marines are left here alone.
We look for the beacon, but see it not.
We spread out grimly and search through the spot.
'It was here. Been moved. By us I hope.'
Williams calls out from low on the slope.
Nihlus calls me over the com.
He thinks it's been moved and may not be gone,
But rather conveyed to the near-by space-port,
Prepared for the Normandy's awaited report.
He says he'll be waiting at a tram nearby,
Tells us to be ready, but doesn't say why.