OSaBC : The Bird of Hermes
Chapter Ten: Unending Hellscape
A/N: Minor edits to fix goblins. This is what you get when the EG doesn't review.
"Aside from the... unfortunate loss of so many brave marines, multiple ships, and the apparent fall of a heroic House of Sol, the largest takeaway from this entire incident has been very simple: we have grown complacent. We had a dedicated force trained to respond to this sort of event, and yet a single person was able to not only throw a wrench into the response but even use our clean up attempts to escape. Unacceptable. The log files transmitted to us by Colonel Bright only reinforces the ugly truth: the High Lords should not be allowed to interfere as they see fit with events that threaten humanity itself.
An... unpopular opinion, and one unlikely to win me any friends or platitudes. But the truth is the truth."
-Admiral Branson, private remarks, Reports on the Magog Incident
Bright considered the tortured landscape rolling past as he drove the ETM3 vehicle north and east, away from the ruins of the first HERMES base, his mind still on the horrific twisting - and final, saddening moments - of Chief Altis. He wasn't sure what exactly was going on down here, and the bits he'd uncovered already both didn't look good and didn't line up exactly with what Admiral Vandefar had told him. But the results were plain as day.
If whatever took out the Decca and the ground teams here got into the colonies, or to Sol, humanity was doomed.
The most troubling thing was the possibility that R&D had fumbled a first contact scenario. Certainly the things he'd seen didn't look like any race he knew of, and if this was their home system it was all - ironically - conceivably the same sort of mistake that humans suffered at turian hands during the First Contact War. Yet the shit he'd seen on the Decca was way worse than any of the old 'rachni infestation' vids from the Rachni War he'd seen. The corruption of the bodies – those black, carbon-looking scales, the bone spikes, the ...vomit...
If this was a first contact scenario, he'd seen nothing to suggest humans had picked a fight, and everything to back up these things were just monsters that had to be put down. Somehow.
How to do so was the sticking point.
He shook his head, glancing over the controls of the heavy duty vehicle. The ETM was a conversion of the old GRIZLI line of APCs, stepped down to 'civilian' markets but still with the durability of an armored personnel carrier. The six-wheel suspension was smooth and the vehicle had a pair of small sleeping cabins, a food prep unit, a bathroom with a shower, and even a small entertainment console in the wall. He'd torn the VI out of the food unit and the command console, hooking in SAM instead, and so far nothing amiss had happened to him.
Yet.
He glanced out the thick armaglass windows as the terrain. The road, such as it was, appeared to be some holdover of the buildings of... whatever lived here. Twisted and broken ruins, towering fifteen to twenty meters high even in their state, hulked like decayed teeth along the rim of the hills to the west, the road itself made of cyclopean blocks of black basalt. The buildings themselves were just subtly wrong somehow, like the angles didn't add up, and the occasional gleam of greenish metal was set off by long piles of desiccated misshapen corpses here and there, some of them gathered in piles, others laying for all eternity staring into the uncaring sky.
SAM's voice interrupted Bright's internal reverie. "I have completed initial decryption of the log files, sensor data, and information in both the download from the Decca and the HERMES base. The sensor data is, at best, confusing. I am detecting several extreme energy sources on this planet, and the Decca's logs showed that three of the planets in the system had energy signatures on par with or exceeding the output of the entire Sol System."
Bright frowned. "Huh. What about any sign of the Ashland-Eldfell colonists and miners? Or the science teams?"
SAM's voice shifted higher, his blue-glowing iconatar on the console swirling. "Uncertain results, Master Bright. There is an impact crater and possible metallic fragments that might have been the orbital comms station roughly five hundred miles out, at least in the initial logs of the science team. But the Decca scanned that same region and only found the impact crater- no materials remains at all. The science team reported extremely hazardous and active black nano in many locations, it's possible the planet is running dissumlat nano and deconstructing anything foreign that triggers a reaction."
Bright leaned back, wishing he trusted this cursed planet enough to take his helmet off. "Great. Wool monsters with gravity guns, a planet covered in fucking corpses, my ship is blown to hell and now gray goo. Wonderful. Any other results?"
The AI gave a short sound of dismay. "Yes, as I said, I also decrypted the logs. I am afraid it is not good news, Master Bright."
He tapped the haptic controls on the panel in front of him, setting it to autopilot, then nodded. "Shock, SAM. Hit me."
SAM's voice held an almost apologetic note. "First, the Decca's data systems were...very corrupted. It's almost like something had attacked the datacore and the VI – maybe a hostile virtual agent, looking for something. The records of exactly what happened to the ship are... missing. Removed."
Bright nodded slowly. "...ominous to leave everything else, but it makes tactical sense. I know you mentioned sensor readings earlier, were those corrupted too?"
SAM answered quickly. "No, Master Bright – the sensor readings were not damage. Nor was the comms log damaged. From what I can piece together, the captain of the Decca was dispatched here by the High Lords and ordered to maintain isolation in preparation for some kind of clean-up crew. The orders were based on information from a 'Doctor Paigishani' – a figure of some repute in R&D – and warned the ship to stay in high orbit or further out to avoid danger."
"For all the good that did them", Bright muttered bitterly.
SAM's voice rose. "No, Master Bright, initially they did follow that recommendation. What made them change it seems to be external orders – I'm showing partial comm logs indicating a command officer on the surface said they'd been compromised. They instructed the Decca to sterilize the sites with Kyle torpedo bombardments, then to send down a shuttle to pick up survivors who were in stasis."
Bright scanned the horizon nervously. The dead-looking trees swayed in the absence of a breeze, and glowing moss pulsed inside dark cave-mouths to the west, but nothing else was moving. "Go on."
SAM's voice fell again. "Doctor Ciana Vandefar countermanded his instructions with her own security codes, which appear to be issued by Admiral Vandefar. The Decca attempted to localize the commanding military officer, one Captain Marcus Kinnix...and then fired at his location."
Bright swore. "So this is some kind of stupid internal fucking double-cross? God, what the hell was Alec thinking?"
SAM did not answer that. "Unknown. However, Doctor Ciana Vandefar transmitted several files from the surface that the Decca scanned, then there's a partial radio comms log. The ship sent down a armed pinnace to head to something called 'the secondary dig' and four shuttles to do clean up on any remaining HERMES materials. Halfway through atmospheric decent, the pinnace was shot down and crashed, the four shuttles were incinerated by some kind of GTS system, and the Decca itself was struck by graviton wakes. Then they were boarded."
Jeff winced. "And the other files?"
SAM made a sort of sighing noise. "Most of it is fragmented and... disparate. The original team landed with Researcher Yang, and there are a total of four bases – the one we just detonated, a 'primary dig site' base north of here, a 'supply base' to the north west, and the 'secondary dig site backup location' to the north east. I have no details on any of these facilities, but they should have a comms antenna and a booster drone to allow you to make a final report. And shuttles."
Bright nodded sourly. "A report isn't going to do any good at all. I mean, look at this fucking place! It's a nightmare. This... I don't even know how you deal with this, besides tossing the damned relay into the sun."
SAM said nothing, then spoke after almost ten seconds, voice low and concerned sounding. "Master Bright, I am programmed for obedience. That being said, this situation appears to far outstrip the precis you were given by Admiral Vandefar. Your mission, to retrieve survivors, would appear to be neraly impossible. I would suggest – strongly – finding a method of egress and reporting back would be the best course of action. Additional investigation is unlikely to turn up exactly what happened here."
Bright only grunted, tapping the controls again as the massive ground vehicle rounded the curve of a gentle hill, then stopped, aghast at the sight ahead.
Below, the landscape fell downwards in staccato gradations, a massive mountain range to the east crowned with ruins. But this paled in comparison to the nightmare landscape to the west and north. IT looked like a sea of twisted, deformed corpses – huge, nearly three meters long, with multiple limbs. The bodies stretched in thick, slumping piles for miles upon miles, broken only by the hulking slabs of ruined buildings and vast craters punched deep into the planet's crust.
Bright could not even begin to guess how many dead werin this ocean of rotted flesh, millions or tens of millions or even beyond that. A moment later he realized nothing was moving. There were no scavengers, no flies, not even the disturbed and wavy air of outgassing from corpses rotting.
In the midst of the plain a circular indentation in the ground was surmounted by a low wall, a plascrete base with several buildings like the other one. This one had a multitude of defensive turrets as well as a line of shuttles neatly parked outside.
Dozens of corpses – human ones – were scattered around the base, and several holes had been punched into the walls from weapons fire. The bulk of the soldiers were wearing modified marine armor, and as he slowly pulled the truck to a stop, he could see this was something other than what had happened to the Decca.
He stepped out, bringing his Sabre rifle up in a single motion as he slowly advanced. The marines had set themselves into some kind of firing line behind what looked like burned out kinetic barrier generators, and most of them were slashed to pieces. At least half of them had been literally bisected, a single cut slashing so cleanly through armor and flesh as to leave the edges mirror smooth. The rest showed gruesome puncture impacts, like they'd been hit with a krogan spike thrower.
He nudged one body to turn it over with his foot, frowning. Stuck into the marine's chest was a broken blade of some kind, like a sword, made of some kind of bone-like material. The inside of the blade had a bluish spongy material that was slowly leaking a darker blue fluid sluggishly.
"SAM? Any ideas?"
The voice of the AI was hushed. "From photo identifications I can make out of the bodies, this would appear to be most of the secondary team and the marine contingent with them."
Bright glanced around. Here and there were the black discolorations of exploded hi-ex grenades, and shattered broken ground where missiles had struck something. Yet not a single attacker's corpse was to be found.
He glanced back at the base. "...SAM, the turrets are still active?"
"Yes, Master Bright."
Bright frowned, moving forward slowly. The nearest turret whirled to track his movement, then turned away, to the west, in the direction of the other turrets. "And they're still programmed not to fire on humans, so whoever killed these marines was able to charge a fortified, shielded line under heavy missile fire and turret fire and kill most of these soldiers... in fucking melee?"
He shook his head, walking into the small base itself. Three buildings still stood more or less intact, a fourth a crumbled, smashed mass of chunks of armaplast, reinforcing girders, and smashed containers. The second and third buildings had their doors torn off, and Bright froze, as the nearest one had gently waving black fur growing out of cracks in the wall.
He lifted the rifle in his hands, frowning intently as he eyed the door, and then took a swift step back as a thing stepped through the doorway into the sun, a black-furred monster with a reddish rodlike device in its misshapen eye-hand manipulators.
Bright only sighed as the thing gave a warbling roar and leveled the rod at him. "Fuck!"
X-BoH-X
The Systems Alliance boasts many units across its military systems, from the elite ranks of the Solguard and the Guard of Iron to the barely-fit Gamma Reaction Force. Almost all of these units, even the X-divisions and the Commissariat Legios, are exactly what is on the order of battle.
There is one unit, however, that does not fit this pattern. Known to a select few as Battlegroup Omega, it is purported a mixed unit of Knights Irregular, retired AIS snipers, older commissars and various marine units. On paper it's commanded by the commanding officer of the Guard of Iron, Commandant-General Jeffrey Oplar, one of six Commandants with a flag rank.
Battlegroup Omega is the last line of defense for Sol, a group of the most hardened, battle tested and senior military forces under SA command, stiffened by the best gear money can buy. No one is ever allowed to apply for the group, instead being selected after careful review. Boasting thirty-five thousand soldiers and 200 of the Flight XII Merkava-Eldfell mod of the M-90 super heavy GREAT WHITE tank, it's soldiers alone wear a fearsome black and red version of the Alliance dress uniform and the coveted black and red beret of the Lords of Sol.
But this group, despite its power, is nothing more than a smokescreen.
Based in the snowy foothills of the Alps, Battlegroup Omega sprawled over sixty square miles of reinforced bunkers, heavy training areas and the like. It completely surrounded the mountain known as Jungfrau, with three concentric circles of ten meter high blast-rated plasteel walls, dozens of GARDIAN towers and rank after rank of GTS emplacements.
The winding road that passed through all three circles lead past increasingly high security, until one reached the inner-most circle. 99% of Omega knew there was a further group inside, one they were told is none of their business and should never be discussed. On occasion, heavy flatbed hovertrucks done in black or strange cargo ships passed through or over the camp, moving towards the mountain itself.
The base of the mountain was befouled with an additional set of defenses so potent and overdone as to appear either badly paranoid or wasteful of money, or perhaps both. Walls fifteen meters high made out of laser-steel were pierced every twenty meters with a combination GARDIAN tower, GTS system and ground focused minigun arrays. Over five hundred JOTUN and YMIR mechs paced endlessly around the circular walls, flanked by vicious bloodhounds augmented with cyberware and and entire legion of Commissariat troops, who had orders to shoot to kill any intruders.
Inside this literal armed camp, a smaller subset of Omega existed. Known to a very few as Omega Response, it was the System's Alliance answer to the Celestial Council of the Citadel, the Black Lodge and the other groups that handle things that man – or alien – was not meant to know. Kept a secret even from high command, with enough Red Notes and executive orders to give them carte blanche, Omega Response protected humanity from all anomalous threats.
The grounds were immaculate, the barracks of the enlisted men and women – those good enough to make this second and even more restricted cut - on par with senior officer barracks. Neatly metaled paths twisted between recreation halls, park spaces, and open-air firing ranges, while a host of workshops and armories kept the force equipped better than most N-series troops. It boasted its own hospital, restaurant/bar and the entire thing was under a class IV arcology field, allowing the soldiers to walk around in shirtsleeves.
At the center, inside an additional fortified wall, was a four story metallic tower, pierced with armaglass windows and a long armored tunnel that met the stony face of the mountain. The tower was ringed and topped with comms antenna, while two dreadnought-class kinetic barriers protected it, alongside even more GTS and ground defenses. The third floor was given over to the offices of those who make the hard calls, and to those who give the orders to execute said calls.
The man that stood in the front of the meeting room was older, with a tired expression and weary eyes that spoke of not enough sleep and too many nightmares. He glanced around the room once before nodding.
"Overwatch Commander, reporting as ordered."
The room was fairly big – ten meters to a side, done in rich wooden decking and black carpet. Cherry wood walls were pierced with smoked glass windows, showing the mostly unruined alpine terrain and the ranks of Omega's fortifications. The table in the back of the room was small, but made of pure obsidian trimmed in steel, with a circular emblem set into the top of it.
An Ouburous, an inner circle of three swords pointing inwards, and the infinity symbol in the middle.
Five persons sat at the table. They wore heavy black hoods, with metallic facemasks, and tabards that only revealed their gender. Each one had a colored stripe across the chest of the tabard: grey, green, blue, orange, and red. Their hands were gloved in black leather, and when the central figure spoke, his voice was modulated.
"We appreciate your... prompt response, Commander. We understand this is an unusual situation, with you directly meeting the Administrator, and while we cannot go into particulars, please accept that this was a choice of the Task Committee. The current dilemma we are in is dire - the Task Committee can't issue orders that go against the High Lords, so we... creatively bypassed the issue. And while there will almost certainly be political fallout, I'd rather than that face the chance of human extinction. Or worse - this isn't a time for playing games, after all."
The Commander said nothing, nodding faintly at the words that were said - and unsaid. After a second, the female to the central figure's left spoke, her voice as aggressive as the red stripe she wore. "Well, no matter. I trust you're prepared to move - your strike team is all back in base now, correct, Commander? Additional delays are not helpful, and Lieutenant Commander Welancia is... slow at the best of times, and more so when we can't explain what we want done or why."
He nodded. "Yes. The unit returned with no casualties or serious issues. As to Sana, well, Commissar Sloane has concerns regarding her longer-term mental stability and her ability to continue to function as XO. In the last operation she lead, she lost a third of her unit to Inusannon traps, and it was not pretty. I've already been bluntly informed I'm not field-capable either, both due to the injuries I received and my own... well, sanity, to put it bluntly."
The Commander held up a hand. "That means I'm going to have to send Major Herrero to lead this... mission. And before you even start, the CO of Force Recon is not acceptable either. We'll need to send our best, and that means Paul needs a free hand to pick his command staff."
The man to the right of the central figure inclined his head, tapping the strip of orange cloth across his barrel chest. "We were only interested in sending Rectification on this one. To be fair, Commander, the Department of Abnormalities is rarely dispatched to safe locales, and turnover is a part of the game. The fact you and Sana are not viable is... what it is, bluntly. We're out of options and out of time. You'll deploy with whoever and whatever you say is ready to go, and if that costs us resources or AOs, the alternative isn't viable."
The Commander frowned. "I knew from the Administrator that things were bad, but we still had, what, six days or so?"
The red-striped woman snorted. "I wish. The situation has...developed since your brief with the Administrator, however, and now time is of the essence."
The central figure spoke, his own grey cloth stripe catching the light. "Both Red and Orange are correct. The situation has gone from alarming to unacceptable. AO-001 is now showing an eighty-four percent chance of a complete Revelations-class scenario in the next forty eight to ninety six hours. That is an end-of-life-period warning."
The man with a green stripe interjected. "There's also a thirteen percent chance of a Ragnarok-extinction level event. But we- "
The woman with the red stripe interrupted. "This is unimportant, Green. If we're dead, who gives a shit about aliens?" She turned her black mask to the Commander. "The High Lords have... not accepted our recommendation, as the Administrator informed you. We know now that they are dispatching additional forces – the Hostile Recovery Unit's Military Response team."
The blue-striped man muttered. "Great move, send in the clowns."
Red ignored him. "Despite the danger, Admiral Vandefar seems to have convinced them that there's an opportunity to recover useful technology - that may be needed for us to survive. The High Lords deigned to inform us this morning of the nature of that threat – the long-standing AO-001 detection slated to happen in a couple of years is due to a race of AI machines called 'Reapers' that are believed to be behind the extinction of the Protheans and all other predecessor xeno civilizations."
The Commander shook his head. "Lovely."
Blue spoke up. "It gets better. Synthia didn't convince them very well, so there's some disagreements as to what is going to be done. Our asset inside Ache Lamao reports that there's friction between Vandefar and her XO, as well as some of the High Lords pushing for us to resolve this on our own."
The gray-striped leader tapped the table softly. "But ultimately, Commander...we have been given informal orders to 'stand by'. The previous noted irregularities – dragging Lord General Kinnix into the mix, and the N5 investigator – are starting to look less like panicking and more like she wanted something cleaned up before anyone else could see it."
The Commander folded his arms. "...understood." And he did. Omega had been leery of Vandefar for literally decades, and was sure the clever woman had managed to gain control and custody over more than one anomalous object of her own. Vandefar had been vocal in implying she should be in charge of Omega Response...and more than a few of the Lords felt the same.
If this mess could be both resolved and then blamed on her...
Red leaned back in her chair. "It is good we don't need to spell out the... obvious, Commander. However, your tasking has changed. Originally we were going to do a MOONRAKER sweep and clear. Recent events have... proven that to be ineffective. We've lost more ships, and contact with the reinforcing elements, along with a report of a space-capable vessel in the Jeremiah system. We cannot take chances. Take half our effective active forces, place them under Major Herrero, and implement SHINEDOWN."
The Commander's weary expression tightened. "Killing our own people...do I have specific tasking, then?"
The green striped male spoke for the first time. "Yes. First, arrest or execute General Kinnix and anyone with him. Given that the Ache Lameo team will arrive before you and that Dr. Paigashani was ex-Omega, Kinnix may overpower the team and interrogate him. We cannot let the existence of Omega Response get into the open. If he is not there and the Ache Lameo team is not cooperative, report that to us immediately."
Blue and Gray both snorted, but Green continued. "Second, identify anything Kinnix or the Ache Lamao teams uncover. If you can, contain it for retrieval. If it is too dangerous, destroy it - kill anyone trying to resist. Third, regardless of findings, destroy any active archaeotech and any signs of human presence remaining. If you must, deploy black nano seventeen or grey nano six. Use Kyle torpedo bombardments if you are unsure. Use the Heimdall Protocol and AO-592 to reduce anything else to a state where it cannot be found."
Green glanced at Gray, who nodded, then finished. "Finally...you are authorized to undertake any action to prevent the Ythrongi from being awakened or to prevent them from escaping the system. If that means killing the Ache Lamao team, do so. If that means sabotaging a relay, do it."
Gray's voice sounded almost apologetic. "We do not have the imprimatur of the High Lords for this operation, so you will need to prepare for the likelihood they will react... poorly to the information. It is almost certain the entire Task Committee will face... rebuke for this, if not execution. You may be involved in that as well."
The Commander gave a faint smile. "I'll have a conversation with Jaime along with Paul then. As I said, the unit XO isn't stable enough to deploy and should be retired. Jaime could have been a full colonel by this point if we promoted on mission profile instead of time in service, and he'll serve well under Paul. Paul should be tapped to take my role, if he survives this mission."
Gray nodded. "One...final point. The situation, due to the delay of the High Lords in allowing us to contain the problem as well as the fact that it appears someone is... manipulating the situation means this is potentially a Case Black. As such, we have reached out to the Celestial Council and informed them of the situation, or at least a... version of it."
The Commander's mouth tightened. "And their response?"
The masks of the Task Committee did not reveal any hints at identity, but he could almost feel the pity on Gray's features anyway. "In the event you cannot contain the situation, or if they cannot raise the Omega Response team, or if at any point they receive scans or communications indicating loss of containment, they are going to push the linking mass relay into the star in that system. There will be no way out for any survivors, as the surrounding systems are all destroyed."
The Commander was speechless for several seconds, and Red nudged Green. "Great, we broke him again."