OSaBC : The Bird of Hermes
Chapter Twenty-eight: Unimpressive Disappointments
A/N: insert witty and interesting author's note here
As always thanks to EnigmaticOne for typing this up, any mistakes are mine but of course I don't make mistakes. And if I do, it's Fluffles' fault.
"I am still, in a fashion, both affronted and saddened by the realization that the 'angels' of Jeremiah were merely more of ARGENT's tools. The grace and power of such beings...but like all that comes from Satan, they were false. Reading minds makes pulling the appropriate Bible quote out of one's head an easy thing but only the Angel known as Surufel dealt with us without deceit, I think. Best they are all dead, and one day their accursed master as well.
- Knight-Major Jayceon Stryckland, discussions with [REDACTED]
"So, from the telemetry feeds of the bombers, it looks like this Vault thing is unguarded." Paul concluded, some time and travel later. The terrain was sloping mudbanks and broken buildings, a tumbled morass of wreckage that was only broken up by simply titanic craters every few miles, some of them larger than cities, with only the road remaining smooth and unbroken.
He gestured, the battle-suit's arm swishing past and over Jaime's head. "But all the other sites around us have those corpse fuckers guarding them or digging through them."
Jaime sighed. "Either this is a trap or our luckiest break, and I'm not sure which is which."
Paul shrugged. "Either way… Abe, knuckle up the suits. We're taking point."
"Would you prefer if I take a small detachment and scout it out, Herrero-samas?" Stryckland offered. "We wouldn't want to lose our main body to a trap?"
"Nah. I get very suspicious when shit that should be guarded isn't." Paul turned it down. "We're better equipped to draw fire, son." He turned to the suits. "Single line, hot-target links to each of us. Focus fire on snap acquisition profile Alpha, the main assist is Abe. Jaime, follow us in, standard trail distance for M/AM detonation. Just in case."
"Let's fucking move, ladies." Abraham grunted through the vox, and faced toward the unsuited members. "If any of you meat-sticks get in the way of our shots, get out of it." The suit pilots gave Abe good-natured backtalk and insults, which always worried the rest of the unit – given how crazy Abe was – as if the suit pilots thought he was just one of the boys.
The terrain leading to the indicated site sloped upwards, although not as sharply as the escarpment to the west, culminating in a long, wide road of glossy black stone. Despite how utterly ancient this place must have been, the road remained as shining and smooth as if it had been made yesterday. Grace's instrument scans delivered conflicting and confusing feedback, but clearly indicated it could not find the material on any known periodic table.
About a mile in, the battlesuits came across the desiccated remains of a corpse, where the road split off into the west and the wreckage of the Eldfell colony site. The body had been cut in half, withered to little more than disjointed bones and scraps of gray flesh. Shreds of cloth around it seemed to be from an SA uniform, but it was hard to be sure.
The battlesuits warily circled, as Paul whistled Grace's team forward. "I don't trust lone corpses in the middle of the road."
Upon scanning, Grace identified more signs this shit was not right.. The warped body had been infected with the same virus as the Redeemed corpses, but the transformation was not seemingly complete.
Based on the cellular rate of decay, Grace estimated the process from infection to completion would take six to seven hours.
More disturbing however, were indications someone tried to use biotic warpfire to burn it, but the burn patterns were from plasma. And it didn't fully take, for this thing was very slowly regenerating, albeit at a randomized rate.
Sloane picked up on his undisguised reactions. "Grace, is something wrong?"
"This thing should be dead. It's not." Grace bluntly remarked. "I very, very highly recommend we do what we can to make sure it stays down while it is down. But you may not want to use anything that'd splatter it."
Paul casually placed the end of his weapon at the thing's head. "So when you say it's not dead..."
He tilted his head. "Something killed it or almost killed it?" Paul made a motion with his free hand, and the suits stacked up on the path to the Vault, while he listened.
"I can't even figure out what it is both with our standard kit and the omega-rate stuff Paul." Grace replied. "Not entirely. Given my familiarity and our files..."
"Oh. Well, I know how to kill that." Paul breezily answered. "Main body, form up and move out on the suits. Half speed. Grace, drop the Alchemist on this fucking thing and let's go."
"Will do. Everyone stay clear."
Billings, the Alchemist Deployment Specialist, stepped forward, carrying a long silver case. He laid it on the ground. Technically, the main Alchemist AO remained in custody back on Earth, used to create the two silver canisters and long, night-black rod revealed when Billings opened the case.
He removed the rod and one of the canisters, and glanced up at Grace. "Single release ready, sir. Code stack?"
"Keys I handed out earlier have it Specialist. It's that bad." Grace told him.
"Oh. Shit." Billings tapped his omni. "A44559BR-Seven-Kilo. Loading payload."
The tech placed the canister on the ground, tapped the top, and the silver outer layer dissolved, revealing a pulsating crystalline matrix that emits a sort of light just utterly wrong to look at and always gave anyone staring at it a headache.
He placed the long rod into the middle of the matrix, which slowly began changing colors at the bottom from black to dark gray. "All units, the Alchemist is active, 50 meter radius. Evacuate now."
He packed up his case and moved out, the bottom of the rod is now yellow and making a very subtle pulsing noise. Hyperion moved with alacrity, as the rod continued changing colors. When the top of the rod turned white, there was an unearthly shriek, the sound of thunder.
Air rushes past in a gale, and as Jaime looked back he saw everything in a fifty meter sphere simply vanished, the surrounding ground turned to ashes and magma for another twenty meters around it.
"...The fucking hell what that?!" Ryder nearly screamed, looking pale and shaken. Jaime hoped nobody would mention that that was just the 'mini' size setting, with larger options going from 'normal' (five hundred meters), the 'large' (twenty km), the 'kilo' (a thousand km), and the so-called 'Royale With Cheese' (six fifty hundred km).
Abraham delivered a static-filled chuckle "That's what I'd call erotic. Paulie, who do I have to cut up for some of that shit?"
"That's kick-ass. I want one." Gregory marveled.
"Neither of you want those." Grace cut in. "And don't ask, Ryder. You don't want to know. There's ways to commit suicide less monumentally wrong if that stuff is mismanaged."
"Like accidentally letting a canister get eaten by gray goo, sir?" Billings interjected.
"That's what the report says anyways. The situation was a bit worse. Whomever you had prior to me do the design for that lab complex was monumentally stupid." Grace defended himself.
"I always hate the sound it makes. Like a hyena laughing at us." Sloane complained.
"Of course you'd hate it, Sister Penitent. Type like you can't enjoy good music." Abraham mocked her.
"Bombers just did an overflight of the site." Paul announced. "Main entrance is obscured by a tunnel entry. We'll be going in blind. Escobar, Abe, Tonks, take point, ranged focus. The rest of the suits flank left and right. Jaime, let my boys check it out before you send in the cyber-assassins. I know they're meant for scouting but the suits can take more punishment."
Abraham reoriented to take point. "Triggers hot, or your call?"
"Abe, anything that isn't one of those Ysani things, fry it. Anything human – ripple fire with the plasma missiles."
"You talk so sweet to me, boss."
The trip to the site took a good thirty minutes, with the bombers reporting heavy fighting off to the west between the Ysani and the Redeemed at the cityscape.
Upon arrival, three things were immediately noted. One, this was a big tunnel. Two, the road ended sharply before the tunnel, and in the ground there were the track marks of at least one GRIZZLI APC unit, no more than a day or two old. Three, Grace's time-stream anomaly sensors were going haywire.
"Oh, this looks totally not suspicious." Ryder drew his rifle and checked his gear, muttering, "I've seen enough clown shit to know how this goes."
"As the resident former EOD person, I don't like this." Grace cautioned. "Prime fucking trap by my standards. Watch for mines, explosives, and all sorts of nasties. Could be in the ground, structure, etc."
As they got closer, they saw the tunnel was set into the sides of a box canyon. The cliff sides were smoothed into sheer walls, fronted by a pair of kilometer high carvings of huge versions of Ysani – one holding a long staff with a triangle at both ends, the other holding a circular plate of metal with the atomic symbol for xenon etched into it.
Directly to the sides of the entrance to the tunnel, was the scene of a several days old massacre. Sixteen marines dead, most torn limb from limb, armor peeled open and gore flung around in splashes. Six JOTUNs and two dozen of the new LOKI mechs were also down, the JOTUNs in most cases half-melted, crumbled in weird places and shapes. Tire tracks indicated the GRIZZLIs went around, though some boot prints suggested someone got out and examined the corpses.
"Well, this is lovely." Sloane knelt beside one of the marines, then shook her head. "At least a week old. HERMES insignia."
"This, this is beautiful." Abraham enthused. "Amateur art, but beautiful. Whoever did this was all aggression, no finesse or control."
Sloane stood, scowling, but Paul nodded.
"Whoever did this was in a fucking hurry, and they wanted to leave a message. And I'm not sure I want to meet whatever the fuck can cut a goddamned JOTUN mech in half".
"So, Ciana perhaps, then the clowns came looking?" Jaime proposed.
Sloane tilted her head, and Paul gestured.
"Ciana. Look, there's bullet holes and plasma blast marks everywhere. Any conventional foe would have tried to maneuver. She just walked through all their shit and cut them to pieces."
If so, it was a telling indicator of her capabilities. The cuts on the mechs were jagged and rough, but also showed shearing stress. All done by literal brute force rather than excessive sharpness.
"Should we give these marines a burial? Or should we leave them?" Stryckland asked, his helmeted head looking at the bodies with faint disgust.
"I got some meltdown nano, Lieutenant." Ryder offered. "Gimme a minute."
"Yeah, sure. Last thing we need is those corpse stealing fucks to use our men." Paul agreed.
It took Alec, Strickland and a few other marines about two minutes to melt down the corpses, Alec intoning the Rites of Revenge over them.
Paul came over to Grace. "Grace, something isn't fitting here. These guys are just standing the fuck around. Why were they here?"
"Statues could have something important? Not sure. I'll run the scan now and see if anything pops up."
The scans proved to be, as usual for Grace on this planet, headache inducing. The statues came back normal, but the local energy readings were off the scale.
The area was surrounded by some kind of temporal energy scramble field. The cliff wall showed signs of gravitic stabilization, and a stasis field to prevent statues from eroding. And that was the most he could clearly get.
Eventually, dismayed at the lack of results, Grace growled in a rare loss of composure before catching himself. "Sorry Paul."
"It's fine. This fucking place is cursed, anyway." Paul figured.
Grace wasn't conceding to defeat yet. "Should we try to pull logs from the APC and hardsuits? Might have something useful."
"JOTUNs wipe and HERMES standard op logs are transmitted real time then wiped locally. No evidence." Ryder explained. "If we find Hostile Response dead guys inside,they may have something though."
Paul turned to Jaime. "Tunnel's wide enough for the suits, but how do you wanna do this?"
"Keep leading, we can stagger the cyber-assassins behind." Jaime figured. "Everyone else forms up to cover the area."
"Copy. Abe, with me. Suits, defense line."
The tunnel started at almost fifty meters wide, and expanded further as they entered. A grid of faintly glowing blue moss dimly lit the ceiling, the floor fused rock sloping upwards. After almost two hundred meters it made a sharp turn, opening up into a wider space, and both Abe and Paul came to a stop.
"Madre de Dios..." Paul crossed himself. Jaime exited the tunnel, and then saw what struck them.
They had arrived in a valley, ringed by high mountains and glossy black walls. Twisted trees with greenish bark and swaying tentacle branches moved in an unseen wind, purple flowers and leaves made a soft, calming ringing noise. A fine blackish moss covered the ground, pierced here and there by shrubs of moving tentacles with glowing tips.
A pristine pyramid sat in the center of the valley, split open in the middle to reveal a downward ramp beneath arches of stone covered in glyphic runes. Four huge beings — four meters tall – were beside this vast opening. They stood on four heavy black legs, with skin of swirled obsidian, with four arms ending in raking claws the size of a human being.
Ryder hissed. "Ythrongi!"
Music filled the air: low, serene, almost tribal, and Sloane fell to her knees, shivering."N-no..."
Grace swore…? Jaime couldn't make it out, because though he wanted to recoil from the music, it was all he could hear and he couldn't look away–
A painful flare of light and heat hit all of Hyperion. After they blinked it away, the scene, the pressure and music were just gone.
The high mountains were now half crumbled, the proud buildings ruined. Corpses like those seen standing a moment ago were heaped high, around the crazed and shattered stump of the pyramid and wrecked arches, the arches destroyed. Hundreds of unmoving lumps – Ysani tangled with corpses – littered the ground in every direction.
The men and women of the unit stared around in confusion, which in truth, was an improvement over their leaders. Sloane remained pale and shaking, Paul had his hand on one of his AO deployment tools, and even hardasses like Oso looked alarmed.
"What in the fuck was that?!" Ryder roared.
"A fragment of what was." Jaime answered hoarsely, understanding dawning.
"Yes, heaven." Stryckland beamed dreamily with visions of Elizabeth Windsor in his head, eliciting looks of disgust from Grace and Gregory.
Abraham leveled his cannon at the former knight, moving to cover Paul. "What the fuck does that mean, Jaime?"
"That was the Song, and the Ythrongi, Abraham." Sloane slowly got to her feet, even more pale than usual.
"God and Christ, this is what Hernando and Fredrick went crazy seeing..." Paul muttered, his own weapons still pointed at the pyramid.
The Wrecking Ball spoke over his internal mic to Paul privately. "Stryckland is compromised, or close to it. Liability to keep him alive. I have a clean shot."
"Denied. Norms will freak. Keep an eye on him. If he flakes, 'miss' and take out a leg. He could be useful. Reason I took you off the full restraints: keep an eye on Sloane too." Paul added. "Same thing if she flakes. Frankly, I think Strickland is a soft crack and harmless, the Commissar might go looney tunes at any moment."
"Oh, so they were thongy boys." Lawrence shook his head sharply, taking a deep breath. "On the bright side, now I know what to fuckin' shoot."
The Commissar laughed, high, brittle, a little unhinged "Shooting them doesn't work, Corporal. I saw a battlesuit empty a missile battery at one and the Ythrongi sang it into molten metal."
"I can understand that given you've frankly already had to deal and see a lot on the way here." Grace slowly moved in to put a hand on Sloane's shoulder. "Frankly, there's a reason we went over the notes for what we had on Ythrongi after the planning session with the good food."
She jerked sharply, then relaxed a second later. Sloane deeply exhaled. "I'm alright."
"Sloane, are you optimal? Saw you freak when the music started. Don't want my favorite nun to go insane before her time." Abraham catcalled.
"You'd do better to worry about the Ythrongi." She didn't even rise to his bait, which was highly unusual.
"Well if that was real or a vision, it doesn't matter." Paul declared. "Nothing moving now. Abe, with me. Let Grace run his scans." He pauses. "...Also , the bomber unit reports we've been out of comms for thirty minutes."
"Hey if we're all five by five," Ryder called out, "omniscan is picking up mines."
Grace swore loudly, lividly, and with a mix of English, French and a pair of asari dialects. "Knew the sensors were acting up. Again, sorry Paul."
"Of course the fucking clowns would lay mines everywhere and forget to mention that." Paul shook his head. A plasma cannon came up over his shoulder. "All suits, lowflare plasma barrage, twenty meters path to that pyramid thing."
The suits fired at once, a torrent of plasma streaming out in a long column forward. Dozens of mines violently exploded, including at least one M/AM and one GLAIVE mine. Dirt geysered out and up from the former, leaving a ten meter wide hole in the ground, and sullen fires flickered in the low atmosphere air of the site of the GLAIVE detonation.
"Well, that's a trip to the rad dosing clinics. Goddamn, Holden." Ryder turned to Paul. "For them to freak out this bad and mine this place to hell and gone, something must have been chasing them."
A second scan by Grace confirmed a mine-free path to the pyramid, the few outside that marked with omniflares.
"So, Abe, point with me. Switch to CQB layout." Paul's battlesuit shifted again, the plasma cannon folding back, and he hung his heavy main gun to the side while activating a nearly two-meter long omni-blade glowing blue. "Snipers, cover us."
The pyramid itself had a curiously melted look in places. The tunnel in the pyramid was a little narrower than the entry to the valley, but held enough room for the four-meter tall Ythrongi to move easily through, which meant plenty of room for the suits.
The stone – dark black, not brown like in the vision – lightened as Hyperion headed in. Winding runnels of green vines infiltrated the rock and stone, the leaves all curiously triangle shaped, and a strange yellow light shined weakly from what looked like crystal sconces.
The tunnel ran for sixty or seventy meters before coming to an end in the sundered, shattered ruin of what probably used to be a circular door. Beyond, there had been a battle.
Splotches of black oil, bits of melted brass, green flakes of odd metal, and oddly dark and discolored blood mixed with bits of turrets, explosion rings, and plasma fire scorches.
An arm had been tossed to one side, still clutching a sword made seemingly of bone, similar to the ones used by the corpse soldiers. It looked like it had been torn out of its socket, grisly strips of flesh sticking to it, sheathed in smooth greenish metal armor. A trail of blackish oil and blood led into the dark interior.
"Can we just go home now?" Ryder asked. "Because none of this shit looks anything like what I need to be dealing with. And I could really use a beer."
Grace carefully examined the sword. "Haven't had a chance to see much of the artifacts here in a less dangerous circumstance." About a meter long, curved slightly. The entire thing showed growth markers. This was something once alive, maybe bioformed? The blade itself was saturated in active viral substances, but no nanotech that he could pick up.
The metal of the armor identically matched the metal that composed the Ysani GTS batteries, but showed shearing stress like it had been manipulated.
"Can you get a genetype off of the arm?" Sloane requested.
"Yeah, give me a sec."
Abraham, with his characteristic eye for carnage, and many years of combat experience, studied the scene. "Looking like two on one, Paul. Based on the slaughter we left behind, I'd wager the solo was Vandefar. But who the fuck can scrap with her, and rip her arm off? Aside from me, of course. One of the xenos?"
The hulking suit peered more closely at the blood trails "One was driven off, the other sat and bled. The third went deeper in, but isn't the swordsman from what I can tell. I don't like unknown hostiles, Paulie."
Brass and oil? Jaime compared that with his knowledge of the Cogwork's activities, and came to a conclusion. "I don't think they were hostiles."
"Cog cultists, Jaime? Would've been good to know they were in play before we deployed." Abraham groused.
"Need to know, Abraham." Jaime replied, wondering how the damn hell the Wrecking Ball knew about them before he did.
That was when Grace completed the genotyping: Human. European, German, English. 57% match to genetic profile, Ciana Vandefar. 12% matched out to gorillas, extinct since the Days of Iron, and 21% didn't match anything known to OR.
Just for giggles, Grace tested the oil.
Paul looked over the results and confirmed it. "Looks like the stuff the Cogboys use, though I've never heard of them being wounded. The more powerful Cogboys can pull your average N7 apart like a fucking fruit taffy." And the older man knew DepAb and OR usually only deployed one or two for the most fucked up AOs, or ones possibly related to Mekhane or Naika.
"...With that being said." He turned to the engineering teams with Grace. "Care to explain?"
One of the engineers steps forward, and knelt in front of a segment of shattered brass and oil. "...Oh by LAN."
Abraham heard and smothered a surprised chuckle.
"Commander, this is unexpected. We had some of our members watching your Ache Lameo engineering group. They were instructed to surveil only. The only reason they would have engaged is to contain Naika contamination." He gestured to the oil. "It looks like one of our more, uh, aggressive members somehow got into the team."
Paul narrowed his eyes. "Define 'aggressive', please."
The disguised Orthoseer wilted "Uh... Otomiel and Hespera."
Paul just stared at the man for at least five seconds. "You're telling me the personal bodyguards of fucking Bumaro just accidentally happened... no. No."
Paul turned sharply to Grace. "Before we go one fucking step further, set up AO-71, get the Administrator on the fucking line now. This is bullshit. Fucking biblical angels quoting the Bible, Ciana the Gorilla Girl, and now this pile of inarticulate fuck."
Grace unclipped one of the hardened storage packs from the opposite arm as the omni-shield projector on his suit, taking a few seconds to run through the clearly secure locking mechanism before slowly, carefully pulling out a small object. He unhooked a tripod from his engineering kit, then set that up on the ground with one hand and placed the object on top of it.
"Grace, set it to open mode." Paul added. "People risking their lives deserve to hear the truth. Abe, no shooting the device, by the way."
Abraham sighed in disappointment.
Grace stroked the object, a small gray disk with an unusual gem inlaid on the top, oddly a few times. It made a weird purring sound that seemed to resonate around those nearby with undulating warmth, even through their armor.
"Uh, a thought occurs," Gregory commented. "The Ysani guys were able to hack our fleshy comms. If that AO isn't secure, are we sure that this one is?"
"Corporal, let 'em listen." Paul declared, as the disk floated up a few feet off the tripod. It unfolded from around the gem into a near-perfect image of the Administrator.
Paul faced the image. "Ah, good."
The Administrator stared back. "I can only presume that since you are contacting me using a valuable AO mid-op something has gone dreadfully wrong, Commander."
"A little. Did it slip your fucking mind to tell me Hespera and Otomiel were with the clowns?"
The image of the Administrator leaned back, his expression sardonic and cold on his almost inhumanly perfect features. "Herrero, I will be both brief and direct. We allow a small number of Cogwork Orthodox agents to operate openly, both to aid in detecting certain Incompatible-class objects that AO-01 misses, and to assist in ongoing operations. The number is less than ten."
"Bumaro sent his agents along to infiltrate Ache Lamao and determine if they were compromised by ARGENT, or for that matter, DELTA. They were in a field status and did not send back reports. I was unaware they were on the mission."
"Well, it looks like they ran into Ciana and were leaking or some shit." Paul told him. "Look, Holden said he'd run across a Coggirl and I told him to keep his mouth shut. I did not know he'd picked up Hespera. And the fact that he found only one means something scragged Otomiel. My understanding was he had one or two and they helped out a bit – this is going to be a mess to explain."
"I understand." The Administrator nodded. "I will handle Bumaro. We'll tell him both are... deceased. If you find Otomiel's remains, have Doctor Nateesa do in-field containment and file under a new AO number for study. Otherwise..."
The Administrator paused. "Utilize the Alchemist to clean up any remains. No evidence must be found by CC. That is the highest imperative."
Paul arched an eyebrow. "Fine. Grace, get another mini ready. Use the remote detonator this time."
Paul glanced back at the Administrator's image, which was also a portal. "We also found a bone sword, and some armor clinging to the remains of Ciana's right arm. Do we want a sample?"
"...Do you have a full level 7 containment kit onsite?"
Paul turned to Grace.
"With the cohort here we should have a pair, unless someone pulled it from the usual loadout." Grace answered. One of the techs nodded, and set his backpack down, indicating he had one.
"Seal both the arm and the sword inside. Push them through the portal and I will handle ongoing containment. A single Iron Needle is already prepped." The Administrator went on.
Now Sloane raised an eyebrow. "With all due respect, Grace's scans show that the blade is covered in the virus that reanimates corpses. Is this wise?"
"Do not worry." The Administrator's voice took on a subtle note of humor. "We can probably find a way to sell this to the Lords of Sol as a final weapon for Plan SAMSON, after all. And the nature of this...facility...ensures my own safety."
"He's just joking, people." Jaime stressed it in a way that he was making that the official story, true or not. They did not need this causing morale issues right now.
"Because that makes everything better." Ryder muttered.
The sword and arm were sealed into the containment pod, and it was 'handed' through the portal. The administrator paused, then pulled something from his pocket, a gear of blackened metal.
"In the unlikely event that the other Cogwork engineer is alive and hostile, take this." He passed it through the portal, dropping into Jaime's hands.
"Ooh boy." The Cogwork representative shuddered. "Yeah, that would shut down just about any of us."
The Administrator glanced at the Orthoseeer "You can handle disposing of any remains that are not going to leave evidence."
"Fine." Paul relented. "We're having a long talk when we get back, however."
"If you all get back alive I will be delighted to listen to you for however long you like." A pause. "...If." The signal cut out, the portal slowly curled back up, and the gem went dark.
"Your boss is kind of an asshole." Ryder remarked.
"It's not a pleasant job, Ryder." Jaime defended, remembering the reveal of the DepAb head's true age.
Stryckland remembered how much stress there was in the Windsor household for just being a house of a High Lord of Sol. "No job is particularly pleasant when billions ride on making sure you make the correct decision."
Grace stroked the device again and a sad warble filled the immediate area, sending a chill through those present as the disk returned to the same shape, mass and size that it was when first brought out with the ministrations. He resealed and locked the storage pack onto his armor and packed up the tripod.
Paul now listened to his commlink. "Bombers report the Ysani have thrown the corpse fuckers out of the city. But they are being stood off from approaching that HERMES base and four more corpse units are moving up. Still nothing headed our way."
"They really are interested in that base..." Jaime murmured in puzzlement.
"Yeah, and that worries me." Ryder agreed. "Are they not interested in this place because they already cleaned it out… or because they got enough guards here they don't have to worry?"
Stryckland nodded. "Strange that it's still standing. I would have thought the clowns would have demolished that. We may wish to investigate, if we get the chance."
"Well we know the clowns came this way, so..." Paul entered the tunnel complex, Jaime and the rest of Hyperion following.
As the tunnel opened up into a wider space further on, Paul immediately came to another halt. "Grace, Jaime, Sloane, move up."
Jaime swore and hurried up, followed by the other two. A glowing stone orb hovered in the middle of the passage, flanked by a pair of Ysani with long rods. "You may proceed no further. The Vault is on security lockdown."
Jaime sighs, this time in relief. "You're the Curator. Good." He made sure what he next mentioned would go out over the Flesh That Talks. "We don't need to. Commander Aka sent us. We need your assistance in restoring power to the defenses. Aka, can you confirm?"
There was a wavering response from Jaime's omni. "Yes, confirmed. The Curator-Overseer in Sector 401 is nonresponsive. The one in the local command center appears to have been wiped almost five sun-rotations ago."
"Irrelevant." The Curator responded. "Security breaches by invasive-corpse elements have damaged Central Lockdown and Power Processing. I am engaged in coordinating repairs and containment. If I leave there are no other functional Curator units to overwatch Vaults 2,232 through 15,339."
Aka snarled. "Unit, we need to reroute power to the reality anchors or they will simply remove the protections anyway. Immediate transit to secure point Eight, authorization Lashiel."
"There is an ongoing assault on this facility by corpse infection units. Local Ysani force is down to twelve percent strength. If the facility falls the corpse infectors may reawaken the Ythrongi." The Curator countered. "Additionally, power net fluctuations means the only possible power source is secondary containment fields to the Lord of Songs. This is not advised."
"And we have no choices. Transit now."
The Curator vanished with a popping noise, and the Ysani to either side of it sagged slightly.
"Water-creatures, we have shattered the resistance in the city and recaptured the local secondary control center. Ciana was here and killed several war-leaders." Aka updated Jaime.
"We show some units already in the Power Circle. You will need to deal with them. The corpse defilers north are being reinforced and we must hold here. I will instruct units south to move to secure the Vaults if possible. We have no idea on the number of hostiles there. If possible, clear the Vault, then move to the Power Circle. If not, then just head directly to the Power Circle."
"Can you transport any forces we leave here to the Power Circle, or is that not possible?" Time was always a critical factor in war, all the more so here, given their current objectives.
"No. The Angel fell fighting Ciana."
Stryckland widened his eyes, his heart gripping his chest and his fist tightening on the spear. "No, not the LORD-ANGEL!"
Jaime turned to Paul and Sloane, when Aka added one more thing.
"She is coming. Fight well, water creatures."
X-BoH-X
The last of the Ysani scouts fell, cleanly bisected and hurled to the ground. Ciana flicked the blade in her hand clean. "Torus, report."
"Curator Units 44 and 46 neutralized." The Torus announced. "Curator Unit 11 has shifted location to Secondary Command, Viritith outpost."
She glared at the opening to the tunnel. "That's unbelievably stupid. I can't get it to it in the fucking vaults, why did it leave?"
"Vault scramble field is deactivated. There is a large force of humans occupying the vault entry."
"...Oh." Then it hit her. "Oh. Well, shit. I don't wanna fight them and they don't wanna fight me." Ciana laughed. "Maybe I can talk to them!"
She cracked up laughing, leaning on her sword, then shook her head. "Stupid Lords and clowns might play games, these are pros. Probably vape me at a distance." She glanced skywards, her enhanced vision picking up where four bombers are circling. "Oh, clever."
"Torus, if the Curator left the Vault, can we reroute power now?"
"Negative." It informed her. "Power Circle is still in the hands of at least two Ysanalarchs. They are repelling the assault by the forces sent earlier."
"Shit shit shit." She squared her shoulders. "Alright. Let's see how bad bad can get."
She lifted her voice, singing, and the greenish metal on her armor shifted. Crystalline spars of rock encased her, lifting her from the ground, spiraling around her limbs. Sheets of green metal burst through the rock as it took on a roughly humanoid form, and then shivered, the front thickening.
The resulting creation stood nearly four meters tall, and lifted a bone sword now the size of a krogan as it stepped forward.
"Okay. All I know about OR is they roll with heavy shit. Probably no tanks… anti armor, snipers, battlesuits, fuck-ass cyber ninja bullshit. Like Hostile Response but on crack. Torus, have any remaining ranged units move on my position, top speed."
"Nearest units are at the HERMES base that reappeared anomalously, to make it look 'real', move them?"
"Yes. Melees will do the same. I'm moving in, have them cover my retreat if I get my entire ass handed to me here." The large form moved quickly towards the front, paused at the entrance, and then resumed ahead towards the pyramid.
X-BoH-X
Hyperion was hastily re-stacking and moving around when Paul received a report from the bombers: Ciana stopped, then suddenly turned into a 'rock monster.'
They sent a low-fi image cap of the result, which was now heading towards the OR force again.
"What in the fuck is this fucking bullshit?" Paul cursed. "That's a goddamned battlesuit."
"Hopefully, she'll have the same attitude when you and Abraham go after her." Jaime commented.
"Thanks for volunteering me, nephew." Paul was about to respond further when a loud clear female voice shouted.
"Agents of the Lords of Sol. Leave now, or die. I won't ask twice."
Paul gave Jaime a sad smile. "Encuentra una buena esposa... y una buena vida, sobrino." He exhaled. "Abraham, on me. The rest of you, Jaime is in command."
"Paul, really weird thought." Grace quickly intervened. "Before you do anything stupid. I'm not sure how feasible this is even when I work with both of them the most."
Paul glanced down. "Make it quick, Grace."
"While you and Abraham fight, if it looks to be going badly over comms we might be able to prep the Alchemist from our location and then ping you or Abraham with AO-71 and shove it through, or scaffold it so it ends up in the horizon without jostle." Grace suggested. "It's a risky, but crazy way to guarantee a kill that may not be the worst option here."
"Do it, and don't worry about the radius."
Paul stepped forward, triggering his own speakers. "We are servants of humanity, not the Lords. But if you wish to die chica, we're ready to dance."
In the distance, Ciana chuckled. "At last someone who isn't a fucking weak-ass pussy. Come and get it, big boy, I'll break your dick off in your own ass."
Abraham opened a quick private link to Paul. "Last chance I'll have to take out Sloane before she could compromise and blow my brains. Granted?"
"Denied." Paul answered. "We gotta dance to go to, she's irrelevant."
Paul's battlesuit moved forward, followed by Abe.
The rest of the suit pilots, clearly unhappy, turned to Jaime. "Orders, boss?"
"Get ready to fortify." Jaime answered. It was about all they could do.
The two battlesuits move into the open, Paul's gleaming golden, Abe's tinted the color of fresh blood. Ciana's rock monstrosity glittered with crystals in the dim sunlight, her voice edged with mockery.
"Only two? I feel insulted." She began to circle, and Abe and Paul instinctively counter-moved that, covering each other.
"Bitch I'm gonna let Abe peel you out of that thing and eat you alive." Paul retorted. "Abe, throwdown four, reverse."
"I'm more than enough for you. And Paulie?" Abraham's distorted laughter rang out. "Paulie's the only motherfucker on my level. You're going to look so nice pinned to my chassis."
Ciana's voice picked up an excited tone. "Ooh… you promise?"
Her left arm shifted and four gray-black crystals emerged from the end before they started glowing. Almost faster than the eye could follow, Ciana lunged at the form of Paul, swinging the sword at him.
The huge bone weapon slashed down. Paul neatly sidestepped and caught it on his own weapon. The omni-blade shattered into a cloud of glowing fragments, but the bone sword slammed into a glowing hex-field about an inch above the armor.
"Sorry, chica bonita, this is the big leagues." She stepped back but he lifted something in his other hand, a long, almost insubstantial shape like a sword, black and angular, and he swung with it at her.
Ciana screamed as the weapon tore through her armor. She staggered back, the crystal and rock covering now fouled with black corruption, seemingly eating it away. "...The fuck..."
"Abe," Paul coolly declared, "wipe this stupid cunt."
Abraham sped toward her side, lunging with his omni-spear at the damaged portion of her armor. His voice roared raw, metallic, and trembling with something approaching bliss. "GOD YOU SCREAM SO FUCKING PRETTY MEAT. TAKE IT TAKE IT TAKE IT."
Abraham's spear slashed completely through her sword arm, melting the rock and shearing a narrow gouge out of the side of the rocky mech's 'head' as well. For his personal amusement, he stomped on the bone blade, and it shattered under his suit's foot.
His voice dropped to a trembling moan "Oh baby you bleed so good for me. Let me see how you feel inside."
"I honestly expected a lot more." Paul's disappointment was palpable. "How in the fuck did you kill an angel?"
They heard a thrumming sound, and a greenish circle erupted, followed by a flash of light.
"She did not, human."
This angel was slightly different from the other one, its eyes red and the wings were more pinion-like. A gash in the ring very slowly seeped a smoking sapphire blue fluid very slowly.
"So, actually weakass." Paul concluded. "Like your aunt, too arrogant to know better."
Ciana hissed and then sang a single note.
Abraham seized up for several seconds, his entire body wracked with agony. Paul's defense system emitted a snarling noise and white sparks erupted all around him, as he was knocked back a few meters. The angel folded its wings over its eyes, feathers blackening and falling to the ground, a scream of pain echoing through the halls.
As Abraham recovered and Paul shook his head clear, the rock form dulled, and crumbled. A single body fell to the ground: a human male with desiccated features. The corpse's lips parted with Ciana's voice.
"You win this one, big boys. See you around."
"...Cowardly wretch." The angel scoffed. "All she lacked was a pitiful one-line insult. Fitting." The eyes fixed on Paul. "I am here to protect the Vaults from meddling fools. I apologize for being late."
Paul tilts his head. "Teniendo en cuenta quién eres, voy a ir con 'bien.'"
The 'angel' shook its myriad wings free of the few blackened feathers and drifted across the ground towards Paul and Abraham. It focused more intently on Paul. "I am... Surufel. You have been touched by the Never. Interesting."
Abraham let out a frustrated bellow and stomped over to the corpse. He cursed with denied rage as he savaged it, grabbing and beating it against the ground until there was nothing left but tattered meat and blood.
When done he turned to Paul, his voice now calm but considerably tense. "I'm going to find that cowardly tease, break her until she's begging for it and rip her to fucking pieces. Then I'm going to eat what's left, before I use the rest as lubricant. She's mine, Paulie."
Paul merely tapped his comlink. "Strickland, Jaime, Grace, doubletime it out here." He turned to Abe. "You frustrated? I'm just fucking ... disappointed, brother. That was almost as weak-ass as that fucking Inusannon 'war statue' that Grace figured out was a sex toy."
"Hoping she'll put up a real fight once we track her down. Cunt." Abraham responded to Paul.
Jaime led the hustle out there, followed by Grace.
Stryckland's stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the giant angelic form in front of him. His knees wobbled, but remembering the previous angel's advice, he advanced forward and bowed in servile manner like his days in the presence of Lord Windsor.
"Well that was anticlimactic. Not that I'm complaining and alright there's another angel, cool, that's cool." Lawrence commented from inside the tunnel, exhaling shakily. "I'd really like this planet to stop giving me whiplash."
Surufel glanced over the new trio. "The Curator is now under the protection of Aka. The command center should hold. Unfortunately most of my available forces were killed by Ciana." Surufel's eyes blinked lazily. "It is curious that she would use the Song extensively against us and not at all against any of you."
"Yes, Lord-Angel, the point you raise is indeed concerning." Stryckland looked around. "Is it possible this song doesn't work as well against us, or is she toying with us?"
"Overconfidence on her end perhaps?" Grace proffered. "Most of the damage we've seen in the remnants of other human forces looks… as conventional as anything here is anyways."
Surufel glanced at the two battlesuits. "This one is so mentally broken he is immune to psionic assault and most mental controls, the other one is festooned with weapons that are at least as potent as that of my elites. Yet the song has some effect on you, if very little. Curious."
"I do not have enough forces in this region to cover both the Power Circle and the command center, humans. And forces further off are hard pressed, there are a number of Ythrongi freed from test vaults in the north and we fare poorly against them."
"Oh that's not good." Grace muttered.
"Since you're present, we can move to the Power Circle now." Jaime responded. "Do you think we can take the Ythrongi?"
"As ill advised as Ramiel was in deciding to meet them head on? I do not know." The angel admitted. "However, I can certainly handle Vandefar once I repair the defenses here. Once the reality anchors are back online we can stem the flood of these corpse perversions. However, the power center is overrun with both corpses and Ysangi – altered, feral Ysani."
"We can take those." Jaime figured.
"Probably." Paul jerked a thumb at the rubble and ruined corpse. "I mean, we handled that pretty easily."
Jaime decided to address something that had been bothering him. "One question. We noticed the corpses have been focusing their attention on the base to the north left by one of the previous groups. Do you have any idea why?"
"We are not sure. Only that our orbitals showed the base was completely destroyed and is now... not. There have been additional temporal-spatial anomalies noted, and given the defense fields shattered the power levels required… are beyond calculation."
"That's concerning." Grace declared. "And fascinating."
Jaime considered the former an absolute understatement. Someone had gone to reality-breaking lengths to restore the place, and he had no fucking idea why – and neither did a literal fucking angel.
"Did your orbitals detect any anomalies around twenty minutes ago, centered here?" Abe asked, remembering the earlier vision. "Because we saw something real strange, just before we slagged that bitch."
"No wonder Ramiel listened to you. Insane creatures." Surufel's wings flapped. "The temporal shielding shows a moment from the past. It is not real. The Ythrongi are given to deceit, trickery, illusions and mind control. They are void of honor or valor and despite their vast size are physical incompetents."
"I'll certainly have a lot of interesting data to go over assuming we survive this." Grace murmured.
"Alright." Paul broke in. "If, uh, Surufel here can deal with anything at this vault, is there anything we need to look at?"
The angel's eyes closed. "There are the remains of the previous expedition, but the Clown-Scouts destroyed that. There is the corpse of an angel tangled with a machine of the Ythrongi that is hazardous. The Vaults themselves are protected by the maze, but you have relatively good psionic defenses."
"I can create a teleportal to move you to the exterior of the Power Circle, unless you think approaching normally would be better."
Jaime noted that Surufel was more harsh, warlike, grim, and straightforward than Ramiel. Jaime shakes his head. "No reason not to 'port. The sooner we retake the Power Circle and restore the systems, the better."
"If I localize the Vandefar again I will let you know so you can finish immolating her." Surufel promised them. One of the wings buffeted the rubble aside, almost dismissively.
Stryckland saluted Surufel, "We thank you for this service Lord-Angel, and we shall finish Ciana post haste with all the fiery devotion of a faithful servant to our wonderful and great God."
The angel's reddish eyes brightened as green light erupted in a large circle in the courtyard. It inadvertently shattered one of the statues, which collapsed into a fine black dust.
Surufel turned to examine Abraham intensely. "...Fascinating." The wings fluttered. "This one should be nearly immune to the Song's ability to derail cognitive thought. The rest of you are vulnerable."
"And here I thought there were no upsides to being a bloodthirsty batshit lunatic, Abe." Paul dryly reflected, and sourly nodded. "I'll appreciate the information."
"Just another perk to being an apex predator." Abe chuckled raspily.
The green circle flared, and the angel's eyes ceased glowing.
Grace met Surufel's eyes. "Is the teleportal you mentioned the same as the transportal system we were moved by earlier?"
"The circle is now charged. And yes, it is the same conceptual method." Surufel confirmed. "It will work in one direction only for..." It paused, and Grace almost felt something brush his mind "...What an absurd time measurement system. Thirty four minutes. If you wish, I can place a marker on one of you to summon you if I locate this Vandefar creature. Otherwise, once all of you are inside the circle it will trigger."
"Just wanted to check." Grace explained. "That seemed fine, but different systems can have different drawbacks or limits to be aware of, especially when moving something softer than usual. And apologies, not a lot of systems require me to think in flicks. Standard metrics are more socially useful."
"Be not afraid." The angel's voice is laden with sarcasm.
"Why do you sound less than sincere about that?" Paul commented.
"I like this one a lot better than Stryckland's 'Heavenly Lord'." Abraham opined. Stryckland glares at Abraham.
Surufel flapped its wings gently. "The sigil can be held."
An unseen force lifted a piece of Ciana's rubble and compressed it, crumbling to form a black tinted gemstone. "Given that the Abraham-Killer-Clearminded is the only one who can resist being altered by the Song, I would suggest he carry it, but it is up to you. I must repair the defenses and put down any remaining corpse trash littering the Vaults."
Okay, there was one other thing still bothering Jaime. "One last question. Ramiel referred to me as 'Outcast.' Why?"
The angel slowly turned to face Jaime.
"And you have the amusing choice of calling this one" – it gestured at Abraham – "insane." Its gaze slid to Paul. "If your own mind sees you as separate and isolated, then what else are you? The flesh robot... " It gestured at Sloane in the distance, "is little different. We speak only what we see and what you are."
Jaime swallowed, and he couldn't contradict it.
"Harsh but fair, I suppose." Paul mused. "Will you need assistance holding this place?"
"No. I will have the defenses up before your group is done teleporting. Aka will contact you if he needs support."
"Before you go, killer: Any particular weaknesses of the Ythrongi we should know about? Or anything I can say to make them lose focus and fight sloppy?" Abraham inquired.
It flicked the diamond into Abraham's free hand, then drifted past the group, pausing only to examine the shattered door. "The Ythrongi are arrogant and see themselves as beyond mere physical combat. If you can force them into melee they will not have the concentration needed to sing. I suspect that is why they are trying to attune a human, as Ciana has no such weakness."
It examined the door and gave a startlingly human sounding sigh. "...This is going to be a nightmare to repair."
The angel faded into the blackness, and Paul merely sighed as well. "Well that was a let down, and I'm not entirely upset by that. Jaime, let's get everyone in this big ass circle, I guess. Give a speech first, though."
Jaime exhaled, then broadcast to the whole of Hyperion. "Hyperion, that crazy bitch thought we were just Clowns with extra secrecy. But she's learned: WE. ARE. OMEGA RESPONSE! Hope is not gone yet. Form up in the portal circle. We're going to retake the Power Circle, restore this hell-prison's systems, and splatter her mad ass for good!"
The battlesuits marched around the circle as the other groups moved in, the techs first in the middle, then the infantry surrounding, and the suits and heavies around the flanks and front. As the last person got inside the circle, it flared brightly and with a subtle kick motion more sensed than felt, everyone stood at the base of the knee of a mountain range. The peaks were jagged and deformed from orbital fire of some kind, and in the distance about a mile off there, they could detect heavy fighting between Ysani and ranged corpse soldiers.
The closest part of the biggest mountain was pierced by the single largest door anyone had ever seen, it had to be over two hundred meters tall and almost as wide. Something had clawed or torn a gaping hole into it, almost three meters wide and high.
Ryder stared at the door, then tugged on Jaime's DEVASTATOR armor. "How about now, can we go home now?"