Chapter 20-Vox Scandarum
The news was always running in Eternity Bar now.
It killed the atmosphere there, filled it with a sombre and morose air, but it was all Athyta's customers were asking for now. And the war was all it covered. It was near-constant now, other items given some snippet for a few minutes, but soon enough it rolled back to the war.
Spacer crews came in, ordered some drinks, sat down and they watched. They watched as reports came in from the Alliance or the Asari or the Turians, watched as experts came in to talk on the subject, watched as battered and traumatised young men and women, casualties from the war on the surface, were interviewed, watched as religious fanatics proclaimed that this was judgement from one god or another for their sinful ways. Eternity had never been busier in her two hundred years of business, and while the drinks were flowing to ease the worry, Aethyta had a feeling that all the alcohol on Ilium wasn't going to drown the sorrows birthed from an ensuing apocalypse; she had realised not long into all of this that the best business had ever had was also leaving her feeling depressed.
She'd lived through wars before, when half of the media seemed to be convinced that the Krogan were going to roll over the entire galaxy during the Rebellions, and during the First Contact war, when it seemed that the Turians were all that were keeping an army of aggressive savages from assaulting the galaxy as a whole. She'd been sceptical about the threat they had actually posed; her father was a Krogan and, brash, aggressive and loud as he'd been, she never found Krogan imposing, and the humans seemed to be only one small civilisation during the First Contact War before their Second Fleet had arrived to attack the Turians over Shanxi; but this was different. These things, these Reapers, they seemed something else entirely, something monstrous and unstoppable. She had lost sleep worrying about them already.
"We lost hundreds of ships in just a couple of hours," a young Turian on the holo-screen, arm in a sling, was saying. "A lot of my friends killed by dreads you wouldn't believe the size of. They cut through shields and armour in a second and sliced ships in half like the armour wasn't even there; we needed a dozen ships just to take one of them down."
"Yet you would still go back there?" the interviewer asked.
"Hell yeah, I would," the Turian replied.
"Why?"
"Because I'm needed down there, that's why. Those Reaper bastards killed a lot of people, and I want to make them pay. I'm hurt, yeah, but it's like what Malleus said to us before we went into our first battle; 'Only in death does duty end. And I'm still alive.'"
"Ah yes, Malleus Scandarum. I've talked to a lot of soldiers, and a lot of them seem to believe that he will win this war. Why do you think that?"
"You haven't seen him," the Turian replied. There was something in his eyes when he said that, Aethyta noticed. Belief. "That's all I'll say. If you ever see him fight, you'd know he's what'll win this for us."
"Of course. Thank you."
"No problem."
"We're going back to the studio now for…what? Apparently we're not going back to the studio after all. We're receiving a live broadcast from Earth, from non other than Malleus Scandarum, commander of Alliance forces on the ground."
Aethyta had seen the Astartes on the holo-vision before, when he had come to the Council meeting, and there had been something awe-inspiring about the immense man when she had seen him then. Conversation suddenly hushed as every eye in the bar turned to watch the screen, Asari, Turians, humans, Krogran, even a Drell all watching. Against a background of cracked tiles, his armour shining in white and gold, shoulders broadened yet further by a blood-crimson cloak trimmed in grey fur, he looked even more impressive than before. He looked like a warrior, a leader. He looked like a king.
After a moment, he began to speak.
#
The image of the angel in white and gold appeared on every news channel at once, while many others interrupted their programming to show it. Across the entire galaxy, holo-visions showed the picture of a giant in armour, his scarred, craggy face. Billions of screens, watched by billions of eyes, showed Malleus Scandarum in all his glory as an Astartes. Even on Earth, comm. links went quiet to hear the words that were to be spoken by the great warrior in their midst, soldiers all over the planet of every species listening in.
"Greetings, citizens of the galaxy."
#
One camera, Malleus realised, held on the shoulder of a young woman with ambition, was as deadly a weapon as any bolter. As he faced the lense, reflected light shining a corona around its edge, he reflected that there may well be a power in such a thing that had not realised before.
"I speak to you now in a grim hour. In the last forty eight hours, many of you will have, no doubt, heard of the Reapers descending upon Earth in the intent of slaying all who live upon it. Already, millions lie dead upon its surface, while upon its surface and in orbit our warriors do battle with the foe," he said.
Behind him, on the communications screen, he could see his image being beamed away from Earth to the galaxy as a whole. He liked the cloak, he would admit; scavenged from some theatre that the Alliance had captured, it added a heroic, feudal look to his power armour.
"But fear not," he continued. "For on our side we have the greatest army and fleet gathered in our collective history. Thousands of ships, billions of soldiers, all united in the express purpose of defending our homes and driving these Reapers back whence they came.
"We are peoples with a varied and patchworked history, and we are no strangers to war, but this is not one for profit, power, or ideology. No, this war is for our very survival. The rules of engagement have changed; we will fight to the last, and only when our last breath is expelled, only when we die plunging a knife into the throat of our foe shall we be defeated.
"But this shall not be so," Malleus said. "Because you have the Astartes with you. Some have called us abominations, murderers, monsters even, and do you know what I say? I say this is true. But we are your monsters. We are monsters who will give everything to defeat these machines, who will stop at nothing to ensure victory. We will hurl ourselves into their jaws to tear out their throats; we will slit our own throats if it means we choke them with our blood. We are Astartes, and this is what we were made for. Nothing shall sway us from our cause, nothing will stop us, nothing will end us. We are the vessels of their annihilation, the bringers of their end, angels of righteous wrath that shall reduce them to ashes with the lightning of our fury. We will stand alongside you in the days ahead, and will fight and die for you. All that we know and all that we are will be dedicated to your survival. We are the Emperor's chosen, his greatest, most glorious, deadliest warriors, the most dangerous things in all existence. The soldiers with us are the bravest men and women I have ever fought alongside, and I swear to you that we will drive these Reapers back and slay them all, even if we must bleed ourselves dry to do so."
He dropped his head slightly, before saying.
"But we cannot do this alone."
Once again, his piercing hazel eyes looked into the camera, before he spoke.
"Out on the field, our soldiers die, slain by a foe who would see all that they love, all that you love, perish. They believe us fearful, so bound in arrogance that they are blinded to the truth; the truth that there is courage in our hearts and fury in our veins. Should you have but a scrap of bravery, then I ask this; will you not fight? Will you not stand in your place upon the battlefield and defy this foe that would see us all destroyed? Will you not aid your brothers and sisters in arms in defying this abomination that crawls from its pit beyond the stars? If you will, then I tell you, now is your time. Go to your nearest recruiting station, sign up and fight for all that is good and true within this galaxy. Stand shoulder to shoulder against the darkness, and by the Emperor, we shall drive it back.
"I shall be honest with you all when I say that the following days shall not be easy. We fight a total war against a foe that will not give up until every one of their number has been destroyed, and their own intent is for our very extinction. We fight to survive, and believe me when I say that we will not fight fairly; we will show no mercy and we shall take no prisoners, and this shall be the case both off the battlefield as well as on it. I will not lie to you, my friends; should this war go on then conscription and rationing could become vey real possibilities, and for some, the cure for the blight these Reapers have become on the galaxy shall be a bitter medicine to swallow, but all this shall be done in the name of victory. All this shall be done in order to ensure our survival, and by the Emperor, I promise you we will emerge victorious.
"All I ask in return is that you stand firm in your opposition of the Reapers, that you cooperate with our soldiers and that you understand that whatever hardships or discomforts you must bear, you bear in the name of survival.
"Imperator Vult, my friends. May the Emperor watch over us all in the days to come."
#
The holo screen in Eternity bar went blank, save for the image of a double headed eagle upon a black background, and the entire room was silent. It was a long, intensely thoughtful quiet, and for a moment Aethyta swore that she could have heard a pin drop in the silence.
Then a few of her customers, two humans and a Turian, got up and left, slamming a few credits down on the surface of their tables to pay for their drinks before hurrying out as one. There was a purposeful edge to their stride, a look of determination, anger, on their faces. A few moments later, a Krogan mercenary followed, broad, calloused fingers straying to battered shotgun folded at his belt. Then an Asari. One by one, Aethyta's customers left, and swiftly it was empty except for her and her bouncer.
"Well, looks like he's successfully cleaned me out of business," she said, nodding towards the screen. "C'mon John, help me get up the chairs up on the table, will you? Don't think anyone else is going to be coming in today."
John nodded, before picking up a couple of chairs and sliding them across the table. Quickly, the bar was cleared, locked up and she sent out a message to the rest of her stuff telling them they could have a day off. Somehow, she didn't feel like serving drinks.
She pulled the shutters over the door down, switched the holos off and then noticed John was standing with a slightly restless edge to his stance.
"You alright, John?"
"Yeah, I'm cool."
There was a silence, before she said; "You want to go fight, don't you?"
"Well…yeah. I don't know, you put me up with a job and all, and you need security. I don't just wanna head off like that."
Aethyta sighed, before shaking her head slightly and saying; "Go on John. Go sign up. By the sounds of it, we're all going to be doing it anyway."
John smiled slightly awkwardly, before saying; "Thanks."
He hurried away down the street, towards one of the recruiting stations that had been set up within the last day.
Aethyta shook her head and set off towards her own home. Her father's old rifle, antiquated as it was, was still in a box tucked away, given to her after his death. She had kept it clean, though it was probably dusty, and had been meaning to give it to John once he decided he'd had enough experience working as a bouncer to join one of the private security companies or the Alliance military. But he'd already gone to join up. It seemed that the only person who would find a use for the old thing would be her.
She'd just have to remember the pay the rent forwards before she left.