A/N: This is the full text of Sarah Williams Message, transmitted as the turian fleet blasted their way past Arcturus. Parts of it are referenced here and there but... it's time I wrote up the whole thing.
Parts of this are taken from Moby Dick and from a 9/11 speech.
You do not know me, or my people. My name is Sarah Williams, and I am a human.
[Image of a single human female, black clothing, face lifted to a single light.]
You do not know my people, because we are new to space. We have never encountered an alien race, and our first encounter is what we know now are 'turians'.
[Images of turian warships bombarding a colony built on a desert world, dozens of ships firing repeatedly]
They have invaded our space. They have attacked and burned our colonies. They have slaughtered our people, civilians who were unarmed and of zero threat to anyone. They have murdered our children ruined our homes, they have obliterated and stomped upon our dreams and they assail us with no explaination, no reason or cause.
[Images of turian troops firing into fleeing crowds of humans while marines try to defend them, falling one by one]
Only death.
[Images of dead humans – children, burned to the bone; civilians holding on to each other riddled with impact wounds, burning cities and piles of corpses piled meters high]
And yet, we yield not. No matter how hot the fires from their weapons are, we do not surrender. These terrible attacks can shatter steel, rend flesh, tear lives and families apart – they will never dent our resolve. We were not targeted for attack because of what we did, but because these turians think we are weaker and thus must surrender.
[Images of broken human vessels drifting in space, fitfully burning from remaining atmosphere that leaks out, the fires highlighting small shapes in space that are unmoving]
You do not know us, and so you cannot know that we have already survived a harrowing that nearly doomed our race. We have already endured hardship beyond what you can imagine, a cornonation of death that slew billions to nuclear fire, and disease, and warfare more terrible than any before or since.
[Images of the planet Earth, an armada storm raging high above an arcology, and in the foreground a vast graveyard that stretches for miles and miles]
You cannot cow us with your vile butchery, turian. You cannot frighten us with your ships. Go on, make your loud noises, your songs of laughing at us as you vaporize civilians from orbit then preen about your honor.
You are trash, and we would rather die than serve you. And since you will not listen, these words are not for you.
[Images of weeping Japanese civilians, as they carry back the remains of the Emperor, hate etched on every face, fists clenched]
Those beyond... you do not know our people, but we know now from captured computers that there are more aliens out there than the turians. You do not know me... so I must plead. To ask for someone, for anyone with mercy, or pity, or actual honor – if those words have any meaning – to aid us and to stop this assualt on our young race.
[Images of human children – frightened, many burned or bandaged, eyes wide, faces slack with shock]
We are not criminals. We are explorers.
We looked to the stars with hope, with awe and wonder. Our music and stories, our dreams and imagination, populated it with fantastical aliens that we could connect with, and understand. We dreamed of peaceful exploration of God's greatest work, of engaging in learning with fellow if alien minds, of being more than we were.
We wanted to learn about other races, and other places, and other sights of wonder. Instead, all we have learned is that we are 'primitive', so your turian thugs feel entitled to execute our people and enslave our race due to a law we had no way of learning about, and which the turians gave no warnings regarding.
I do not know you, but I plead all the same, in the hopes that there are beings of compassion who will hear our cry and aid us. To beg for aid shames our pride, but I would rather live with shame than bury my sons, to have to hold my daughters as they weep over burned children and broken dreams and battered cities now turned into concentration camps.
[Images of burning human colonies, and long lines of humans in energy bindings, trailing behind turian soldiers with drawn weapons, who shoot anyone who falls behind]
I do not know you, so this may be what the turians do to all who oppose them. And in that case, my only words to you are defiance. If you embrace the butchery of those who are innocent, I plead to God Almighty that you get what you deserve in the fires of Hell. And to declare we will never surrender, never fall to our knees, and will never be your slaves.
We would rather die. To embrace the divine wind of revenge given wholly over to the whim of God. Towards thee I roll, thou all-destroying but unconquering whale; to the last I grapple with thee; from hell's heart I stab at thee; for hate's sake I spit my last breath at thee.
If you approve of this butchery, then my words are to my fellow humans.
Fight.
Never stop. Never surrender. Never cease. What power they have is only in what we surrender to them! These cowards, who send a million ships against ten thousand, send a thousand warsuits against a handful of marines – I will never fear that level of spineless, honorless trash. They cannot make me respect them, and they certainly cannot make me obey them – all they can do, brothers and sisters, is kill me.
Like they killed my family, bombarding our estate. Like they killed my brothers. My children.
Never surrender.
Never yield.
Never forget.
When the stone and steel that we have built up in our lifetime comes crashing down as molten rain, when the blood of our friends and family flows through the arcologies, when our ships burn broken in our skies and the cries of the mourners echo on every colony, that is when we pick each other up and fight even harder.
We do so not as Americans or Germans, not as SA citizens or distant colonists – but as humans!
We will not die. We will face death, and we stand, shoulder to shoulder, and face the twisting, black storm before us, not with hesitation or fear, but with squared jaws and clenched fists, and we shout out in one voice, brothers and sisters, to those who would tear us apart, "Our light will not be extinguished!"
[Image of the sun rising over Earth, and a vast fleet of human ships, battered but arrayed in a line of battle]
And if we fall silent, our flags waving in a breeze borne of death but still unbowed, let us die in such a fashion that will never be forgotten, in ten eternities and beyond!
And if no one comes to our aid or remembers us... then make very sure you kill every last one of us. Pray to whatever gods or demons you worship that none of us escape. For if we do, we will return and send every last one of you to hell.
You do not know us, but we have a saying, you see.
Repensum est canicula.