It has been a while, but I'm still here. Do note that I'm not planning to let the events of Mass Effect 3 influence this story, as I haven't had time to play it yet, but I already know fairly well how I want it to turn out. Events will likely be so different as to render it a moot point anyway.
Also, I'm not that familiar with Nurgle, so I don't know how well I got the characterization this chapter. If you have any suggestions, please leave them.
NOTE: This chapter is a bit more graphic than previous ones. I don't think it warrants a higher rating, but if I am informed otherwise, I will change it.
The Outsiders
Chapter 11
Weyrloc Gomul charged into the battle, bellowing a wordless warcry. The sounds of combat thundered about him, like a symphony of discord. He didn't care. Close at his heels were a horde of Weyrloc berserkers who felt what he had, an entirely new level of craving for violence that had unlocked new levels of strength and fury. His entire life was now spent in a red haze; even his dreams were of only fire-blasted warscapes filled with monstrous creatures tearing each other apart with tooth and claw. Above them all, he though he sensed an awesome presence. He yearned to catch this being's attention, and he knew there was only one way.
His newfound bloodlust was no longer sated by simply shooting his enemies; he and his berserkers now charged forward wielding crude weapons such as axes, mauls, and claw-like bracers strapped to their arms. They fell upon the foe with a fury that would make a thresher maw cower. Krogan rightfully carried a reputation for being the most physically resilient sapient species in known space, but the Weyrloc berserkers were seemingly invulnerable. Entire thermal clips were exhausted on them, but they kept clawing their way towards the enemy ranks as though possessed.
Gomul found himself face-to-face with a squad of enemy krogan. They opened fire with their shotguns, but he didn't slow in his charge. He laid into the nearest foe with an axe in each hand, spilling blood and neural fluid. He continued to hack and chop until his victim was reduced to an unrecognizable puddle of gore. The remaining enemies broke and fled. Snarling, he charged after them. Catching up to one, he scissored his axes across his enemy's back, nearly bisecting him. Not done, he then pulled the two halves apart, and punted one to the side.
Roaring in delight, he pounced onto the APC the enemy had boarded in a vain attempt to escape him. Embedding his axes in the armor of the vehicle, he thrust his meaty hands into a seam in the side of the vehicle. With impossible strength, he pulled the vehicle apart. The metal let out a terrific shriek as it was peeled away like the skin of a fruit. Pulling his axes out, he began to butcher the vehicle's occupants. His axes seemed to come alive as he wielded them, howling in delight and animatedly biting into the flesh of all who stood in his path.
He stopped, as he realized there were none left for him to kill. He looked around and realized that the only living creatures left on the battlefield were his fellow berserkers. He wasn't done yet; there was still more blood to spill!
Blood for the Blood God!
"Blood god?" Gomul said the words aloud. Where had those words come from? There was no such being in krogan mythology. Still, the words felt powerful as he said them. He realized that he had found at last the nature of the power he had glimpsed, as well as the only path he could take to gain the favor of this power.
"Yes," Gomul continued, raising his voice. "Blood for the Blood God!" he bellowed, eliciting a rallying cry from his followers. They no longer cared for the fate of Clan Weryloc; they were now the cult of the Blood God, and Gomul was the high priest. Chanting their new battlecry, they broke into a swift march over the surface of their war-blasted homeworld, and all Tuchanka would learn to tremble at their approach.
Miranda waited in the booth at the Eternity bar on the asari-dominated world of Illium. Illium was one of the greatest achievements of the asari race, and every time she came, she was equally impressed by the beauty of the alien race's accomplishments, and motivated to do whatever she could to help humanity move forward so that they too could achieve such recognized fame.
Sipping from her drink, she watched the passing figures, with representatives from nearly every Citadel race. Despite maintaining a relaxed appearance, she was always alert to trouble. At any given time, she knew the location and actions of everyone in the room. Her genetic augmentation helped, but it was years of training and field experience that had honed her senses to such a degree. In her field, any less attention could result in a messy death.
A human discreetly made his way through the crowd, towards her. She noted his approach, but was not alarmed; she had been waiting for him.
He took a seat next to her. "Long time no see, Miranda. Considering the things I've heard about your employers, I'm starting to question the wisdom of our relationship."
"You know me, David. The nature of our work may attract extreme elements, but it is absolutely necessary. I know you understand this, and that I'm not a terrorist."
David reclined in the booth. "I'm not saying you've been up to no good, just that I happen to think you've made some lousy choices regarding your friends. But I'm not your dad, and I'm guessing you didn't arrange for this meeting just to reminisce. Ask me what you need, and I'll tell you if I can get it. C-sec's got me in a pretty deep investigation right now, and I think I'm already being watched by some of my superiors after the last favor you asked me for."
Miranda called up some info on her omni-tool. "You're familiar with the Tau, the newest race in the galactic community?"
David nodded. "C-Sec has a pretty big headache, trying to sort out relations with them. They're the first race we've encountered to advance technologically as far as they have without encountering the Citadel. They've already made significant advances in technologies that the Citadel illegalized. We're likely going to have to triple customs inspections on ships traveling from Tau space to make sure they don't try to smuggle illegal goods to Citadel space."
Miranda waited for David to finish. "I think we might have bigger problems," she said, showing him the data. "I've found some disturbing information concerning the Tau. One of my contacts spotted one of their agents meeting with a batarian delegation on Omega. The only reason they would have to be out there is if they were doing something they didn't want anyone else to know about. The batarians were good, too; they thought that by buying off Aria they could ensure no news of their business could get out."
David's eyes narrowed as he looked at the data, containing information on Tau dealings under the table, and the movements of their agents, painstakingly collected by Cerberus operatives. "I can't promise anything, but I will see what I can dig up."
Flotilla Marine Vors'Kanin Vas Yolunda looked out the viewport as his shuttle cruised through empty space. Behind him a handful of lightyears lay the safety of the Migrant Fleet, and the entirety of the quarian race. Closer, and only a couple hundred kilometers away, their mothership the Yolunda held station, waiting for him and his marines to complete their mission.
Before him hung something far more ominous. The cruiser Qua'resma was one of the advanced scouting missions that the Migrant Fleet had decided to launch, following the Idenna. However, the Qua'resma fell out of contact sixty days into its mission, and had only recently been rediscovered. Since then, all attempts to reestablish contact with the vessel had been failures. Vors'Kanin and his team had been selected to board the ghost ship and determine the cause of the vessel's disappearance.
Vors'Kanin returned to the aft compartment of the shuttle, where his team was preparing for the mission. He picked up his assault rifle, making sure its ammo block was secure and he had a full magazine of thermal clips. Turning to his team, he said, "You all know the mission, so stay sharp. This ship is one of ours, so hold fire unless we get a positive ID on hostiles. Keep your eyes open for any crew members; they'll probably need our help. Best case scenario, they had a power failure and were forced to go into hibernation. Our main objective is to get to the bridge and reestablish control of the ship."
They docked with the Qua'resma, and disembarked swiftly. As they left the docking bay, Vors'Kanin immediately realized that something was terribly wrong onboard this ship. Generations of living in space had caused the immune systems of the quarian race to atrophy, and as a result they took severe precautions to ensure the cleanliness of their vessels. The insides of quarian ships were usually sterile and glistening, but not aboard the Qua'resma.
The corridor before them was filled with a grey-green mist, which obscured their vision and dimmed the light. The walls and floor were coated with a thick viscous substance, like fungus or mucus. One of his marines bent down, scanning it with her omnitool. "Sir," she said, astonishment in her voice, "I'm picking up, well, everything. Viruses, bacteria, just about every pathological organism seems to be represented in this growth. This entire ship would be considered a bioweapon by Citadel law, and a suit rupture in this environment would result in death in seconds."
"Keelah," Vors'Kanin muttered under his breath. "How the hell did this happen? We still need to get to the bridge." He activated his radio back to the Yolunda. "Yolunda, this is Vors'Kanin. This vessel is a biohazard level-0, repeat, biohazard level-0. I advise complete plasma sterilization once secured."
They proceeded down the corridor, and through the vessel. It was a tense journey, as the rest of the ship wasn't any cleaner than the entry point. The entire vessel seemed to be dead, they didn't encounter a single moving thing. At least not directly; a couple of times, his marines jumped at shadows, but found nothing. Perhaps most disturbing of all was the lack of bodies. There was no sign that anyone was aboard.
Eventually, the marine team arrived on the bridge. Fanning out, they began to reactivate the systems. "Open the logs. See if you can figure out what-" Vors'Kanin stopped as he noticed something on the floor. It was a transparent suit faceplate, cracked and discarded. The inside was coated in an organic residue. "Happened here," he said as he picked it up, finishing his thought.
A voice, sibilant and hoarse, reached out from the shadows. "It is good to see you, brother," the voice said, as its speaker slowly became visible in the fog.
"Who are you?" Vors'Kanin said, trying not to appear threatening while still readying his weapon. With a hand signal, he formed his team up behind him. The figure shambled forward, triggering a single curse from the marine beside him.
The creature appeared quarian, but only barely. Stripped of its environmental suit, its body was bloated and twisted by rot and pestilence. Maggots wriggled visibly beneath its skin, and had half-eaten its face. A thick green ichor dripped from open sores all over its body.
"Don't be afraid. You've lived in fear too long. I used to be like you, fearing the inevitable. But I asked myself, why do we fight the nature of the universe? I found no answer, instead realizing that the fight, though the nature of all living things, is also simply a sign of immaturity. We have outgrown such fear, and now embrace the truth."
"We?" Vors'Kanin asked, surreptitiously setting his weapon for incendiary ammunition. He reasoned that would be the most effective way of dealing with this threat. He was forced to rejudge the tactical situation as more rotting figures emerged from the mist.
"We've seen beyond the veil of this life," the spokesman of these monsters continued. "There lies a place free of pain, of fear, of suffering. Once you give up the struggle against it, you find yourself in its embrace. Please, just accept the generosity of the decay-"
Vors'Kanin had enough. He fired his shotgun directly into the creature's center of mass. The deranged former quarian erupted in a gout of flame. "We're breaking through!" he shouted to his team. They opened fire on the decaying congregation, consuming them with flames.
The marine team double-timed back the way they came, only to find their path blocked by more plague-quarians. These creatures were even more twisted and deformed, with sickly green flames in what passed for their eyes. As the marines tried to charge through, they realized that these monsters were somehow resistant to their weapons.
The marine at point bashed one of the monsters with the butt of her shotgun, then fired point blank into the creature's face. "There's no need for such a ruckus," the beast said, "I've got a present for you!" It then caught up the hapless marine in a tight bear-hug. The marine shrieked as the contact corroded her suit, breaching the seals. Her cries died as she began to suffer a violent coughing fit.
The marine team now found themselves surrounded as more monsters came from behind them. Vors'Kanin continued fighting even as he realized it was a hopeless cause. "Yolunda, this is Vors'Kanin! Destroy this vessel! Repeat, destroy this vessel!" He couldn't be sure if he was getting through. As the last of his team succumbed to the unnatural enemy, he resigned to not give these things the satisfaction of taking him. Pulling out a grenade, he pulled the pin, and held it to his chest as the enemy turned their attention to him.