As of this chapter, Angels of the Storm is now longer than Hammerhand and I don't think I'm anywhere near the end of it; I can't help but find that vaguely terrifying…
Chapter 36-Leviathan
The two blades crashed together with a crackle of energy, sparks flashing along the holographic edges as they impacted. One of them, guided by a stronger arm, forced the other out of the wielder's grip and sent it sailing through the air before a cloud of biotic force caught it in midair and drew it back to block the next blow that swung down.
Its hilt swung down into its wielder's grip before it moved to halt a stab, deflecting it off to the left with the aid of a push of biotics before it swung round to slash into its opponent's open back. The target dodged back, bringing its blade up to counter, the slash upwards blocked by the biotically motivated sword swinging round to stop it. The enemy's weapon whirled around almost as soon as it clashed into it, seeking to exploit its wielder's open side before biotic forces grabbed the friendly blade and pushed it into the other with preternatural speed, pushing it away. Its hilt was taken in both hands, before it swung down towards the opponent's neck to land against it.
Samara's smile of triumph was dulled by the small electrical shock she could feel crackling against the bottom of her chin, even as her own training holo-blade rested gently on the side of Malleus' neck. There was a silence as Brother Captain and Justicar regarded each other for a moment, panting slightly from the exertion, before Malleus said; "A draw, then."
They stepped away from each other, and Samara said; "I thought Astartes were supposed to be master bladesmen."
"We are," Malleus said. "But we don't cheat, mind."
"Cheating? And I suppose that you were born with ceramic bones, an extra heart and the strength to punch through brick walls," she replied. "If I didn't use my biotics I wouldn't last against you for a moment."
Malleus shrugged before saying; "A fair point, Justicar. Another round? Perhaps we can break our tie."
"Later, maybe," Samara said, sitting down on one of the benches. "I'm afraid I lack your stamina. Fifteen rounds of solid sparring will do that to us mere mortals."
Malleus shrugged, before deactivating his own holoblade and stepping up to the weapon's rack that held his thunder hammer and power blade.
"Do you mind if I practice, then?" he asked.
"By all means," the Justicar replied. "I just need to catch my breath."
Malleus nodded, before calling; "EDI, four drones please, maximum lethality."
The holographic projectors that Kullas had installed into the walls of the Normandy's hangar flickered into life, four insubstantial foes appearing from thin air. Blades extended from long, spidery arms, and they fanned out to try and surround Malleus before the Brother Captain sprang into life, weapons whirring in his hands as he hit the first one before him like a hurricane.
Samara watched him as he parried and dodged around the blades that sliced towards him from all angles, moving with a speed and grace that she would have called impossible if it weren't for the fact that she had seen him utilise it dozens of times. His weapons were a blur as he fought the drones around him, and part of her still struggled to believe that someone so large could move with such swiftness. But that was the funny thing about Malleus and his brothers; she had seen bodybuilders before, people whose devotion to increasing muscle mass had made them misshapen and clumsy looking, and the Astartes were fitter and larger than they and yet somehow, as she watched him fight, she could not help but think of them as perfectly proportioned. Perhaps it was their height, or the broadness of their shoulders, but their muscles did not seem grotesquely swollen or misshapen.
"I must say, Samara," Malleus said as he stabbed his blade into the chest of one of the drones whilst blocking a slash from another with his thunder hammer. "I'm slightly surprised at the level of restraint you showed on Noveria."
"What do you mean?" she asked.
"Your code compels you to punish criminals," Malleus said. "And frankly that planet has almost as many of them as Omega; they just happen to dress up nicely."
"The Code isn't absolute," she said. "Sometimes it has to be put aside to serve the greater good; Yuri Rasenkov is hardly a saintly man, but he will do more good against the Reapers alive rather than dead. It hardly makes me happy about dealing with him, but I can see the reason behind it, and sometimes I have to put the Code behind duty and deal with the issue at hand. Has such a thing ever happened to you? Have you ever had contradicting demands of duty?"
This was enough to pause Malleus for a moment, and a glowing blue blade speared for his heart as he froze for a moment, suddenly distracted before he recovered himself and deflected it away, bringing his thunder hammer around to smash the offending drone into nothing.
"At times, yes," he replied slowly. "I have."
God Emperor damn it, he really hated talking to Samara sometimes. The damn xenos woman had a rather alarming talent for bringing up subjects that he would rather keep buried.
The two remaining drones before him suddenly winked out, and Malleus frowned before EDI announced; "Captain, I have just received a request for a high priority communiqué from Titus. He says that it requires your immediate attention."
"Alright, tell him I'm on my way to the bridge," Malleus said.
"Understood, captain," EDI replied.
Malleus pulled the shirt on that he used for when he went about the Normandy without his battleplate before heading to the lift. Samara followed before he ordered it up to the lift, and she said; "What do you think this is about?"
"No idea," Malleus said. "If it was something relevant to the war as a whole it would be General Suvat or Admiral Anderson contacting me, but this? I'm not sure. Have to wait and see."
The doors of the elevator slid open and Malleus stepped into the bridge, up to the podium that allowed him full view of the Normandy's holographic command console and Titus' image flicked up at its centre a moment later. He looked exhausted, with a cut across his brow and a layer of dirt dulling the shine of the white and gold power armour he wore.
"Malleus," he said, saluting. "I'm glad I was able to speak to you."
"Titus," Malleus replied, returning the salute. "You look like you've come straight from combat, brother."
"That would be because I have," Titus said. "And I'll need to return to it, soon enough, but I need to tell you this first."
"What is it?" Malleus asked.
"It's Hullen," Titus said. "He's dead."
There was a long silence, before Malleus said calmly; "How did this happen?"
"We had Reaper forces pushing on our north-eastern flank, and we needed to fall back and consolidate for a counterattack," Titus said. "We couldn't fall back without a vanguard, and we didn't have the numbers for one. So Hullen volunteered to hold their forces while we retreated."
"He made a good account of himself, I trust," Malleus said.
"Aye," Titus said. "He bought us the time we needed, and when we reached his position we found he had killed more than three hundred of their infantry, almost a dozen of their tanks and a superstalker. It's a death worthy of any Astartes."
"An impressive feat," Malleus said. "If they knew I've no doubt they'd already be telling legends of his death back on Polyphemus."
Titus nodded.
"He even blew up his melta rather than let it fall into enemy hands," he said. "He did the Sons proud."
"Aye," Malleus said. "How's morale, though? I can't imagine it would fare too well after this."
"Not good," Titus said. "Nobody really expected one of us to die, I don't think, and there's no way the troops are taking it well. Emily's playing up the heroism of the whole thing, but all she can really do is damage control. Not to mention we can hardly keep this quiet."
Malleus nodded sombrely at that. Titus was right; part of the reason why the soldiers of their unusual army found the Astartes so reassuring was the air of invulnerability they maintained. With the realisation they could die just like any other warrior that illusion was shattered, and it would not be easy to rebuild.
"Very well," he said. "I've sent the Normandy on a return course to Terra, so I'll be back at the front soon enough; I'll probably have to do another public address about this, though, to help morale."
"That might be a good idea," Titus said. "I'll see you soon, Malleus."
"And you, Titus," Malleus said. "Imperator Vult."
"In Gloria eternis, Brother Captain," Titus replied.
He cut the connection, and Malleus sighed, and shook his head.
"Sir?" Kelly asked from next to him. "Are you…?"
"I am fine," Malleus said. "Fetch Kullas, Yeoman Chambers. I will need to tell him of this."
#
"The shuttles are away, sarge," Constable Arnolds said. "Are we bugging out?"
Special Response Sergeant Iraxin shook his head, before the Turian said; "We can't do that just yet, son. We've got one more thing to do."
"Sarge?"
Iraxin gestured for the kid to follow, raising his rifle into his shoulder.
"We got the civvies out of this area, but communications are shot to hell and I don't know what's going on," he said as they headed out of the port. Arnolds went a little pale at the carnage that had been wrought through the corridors, when thirty experience C-Sec officers had gone toe to toe with ten of those massive…things and barely emerged alive. "We need to get a distress call off."
They emerged from the port building, and into the Citadel, and the windows showed what the great arms of the station were embracing; six behemoths, raining destruction upon the city-craft.
Five of them he recognised from two years ago, twins of the dreadnought that had lead the Geth assault on the station, massive onyx vessels that scored lines of fire across the Citadel's city blocks with great beam weapons. According to the Council, it was supposed to have been unique, but then that had been a lie, when those things had descended on Earth and caught everyone off guard. But the other craft was something completely and utterly alien.
It was colossal, larger even than the Reaper ships that flanked it, and made, bizarrely, of entirely organic matter. A massive spinal cord protruded from the yellowed flesh of its back, bone jutting out into the vacuum, and its massive belly was a mass of ribbed muscle and flesh, batteries of mass driver cannons crudely sutured into the meat of the creature. A stub of a tail housed the engines, while atrophied fins, one that would have been comically small if it weren't for the fact that they were the size of football fields, twitched as if paddling through the void. But the worst thing about it were its jaws, stretching forward like some hideous prow, smooth, scaly skin wrapped around the great column of bone filled with hundreds of needle teeth. As Iraxin watched, they opened with a slow majesty, the impossible vessel twisting in the void to bring it round like some massive crocodile over one of the vessels of the Citadel Defence Fleet, before they slammed shut, the ship exploding in a burst of flame and debris.
"Sarge, shouldn't we get going?" Arnolds asked, pulling Iraxin's gaze from the dreadful sight before him.
"Yeah," the Turian said. "C'mon kid, before the Batarians or any of those other big…things appear."
They hurried through the empty streets of the Citadel, the two C-Sec officers' gazes darting around in search of danger as they headed for their destination, the local interplanetary comm. relay. They were quiet, disturbingly so, signs of combat all around them; burned out, crashed air-cars, holes blasted in the sides of buildings and bodies, too many bodies, of civilians, the C-Sec officers who had died defending them, and the bodies of Batarians, those visored machine soldiers and the massive, triple-jawed creatures that seemed immune to pain and frighteningly competent with the weapons they wielded.
They were a few blocks away from the comm. centre when they came across the enemy, four of those massive, bullish creatures with those hideous triple jaws. The eight eyed aliens gave a yell, turning their weapons upon the pair, and Iraxin fired off a burst before he yelled; "Run!"
They fled, sprinting away from the creatures and towards the comm. centre, while their pursuers bulled after them, roaring in bestial fury. Rounds from their rifles, massive onyx things the size of a light machine gun, slammed into the ground around their feet, glancing off their kinetic barriers and body armour.
"There!" Arnolds called, pointing to the building they wanted, the antenna array above it miraculously undamaged. He slammed his access code into the doorway, and it slid open, both of them rushing through before they hastily closed it behind them. There was a slamming as their pursuers reached it and tried to batter it down, and they hurried to the main room.
They reached it, sealing the door shut before Iraxin hurriedly keyed his access code in, trying his best to ignore the crashing noise and the triumphant roars that echoed from further down the building by the entrance. Arnolds took position with his rifle facing the door, and Iraxin could see that he was practically shaking with pent up terror and adrenaline. He knew that he could only send it out once, and a general distress signal might not make it. There was one person who he knew that he had to send it to.
As the door opened and the Yahg burst in to tear them to shreds, a distress call and a message of garbled yelling was sent though the comm. bouys floating throughout the galaxy and all the way to one specific ship.
Mere minutes after it was sent, it reached the ears of one specific individual.
"Joker, change our course, Malleus Scandarum ordered. "We're needed at the Citadel,"