I'm back once again! Thank you for all your wonderful reviews. I geratly appreciated them. Please, keep 'em coming! I live for the reviews. Anyway, I'm pleased to see you are all seemingly excited with the way the story has gone and will go. Like I said, everything is planned out and written for a purpose, and will be written as fast as I can get it down. This is a shorter interlude to set up some things in the future, and while it isn't a full chapter, I believe you're definitely going to like it. Also, I should probably address this head-on, but there is an Angela/Nictus scene. I know a lot of people seem to complain about that, but, again, things take a turn here, and there is a point to it. Honestly, if you don't like something, you can always just skip it if it really bothers you that much. I cannot believe the amount of dislike for "xenophilia" scenes I have gotten, even when there hasn't actually been any xenophilia besides literally one kiss in the last chapter (and even that was a set-up to future things, not an end-all in and of itself). It seems I have unfortunately run into the part of the Warhammer fanbase that legitimately hates aliens and thinks the Imperium is completely correct. (For those of you who had legitimate criticisms about having too much fluff and not enough dark, I'm not talking to you.) So be it. No matter your opinions, I do think you'll like this chapter. Believe me.
One more thing, and I usually don't do this, but I'd like to give a quick recommendation/shout-out, if you'll spare me a moment. I am beta reading a Mass Effect story called Loyalty and Limerence, written by the exceptionally talented Serendipity001. If you're interested in an extremely well-written Mass Effect story, then I highly recommend going over there. Good writing is what we are all looking for, after all, and is one of the reasons so many of you have told me you read this story. Judging by my fanbase, it might not be exactly some of your cups of tea due to the distinct lack of bolters and murdering aliens in the name of the God-Emperor, but it is Mass Effect, and it is exceptionally well-written. It takes a fresh turn on some older Mass Effect fanfic concepts, and is quite the enjoyable read through and through. So, go over there and check it out. Again, I think you'll find it enjoyable.
Anyway, I have a feeling you'll like this chapter. On to the reviews!
Thyrann: Oh, most definitely. I'm very glad you like the story!
Guest: Thank you.
187: Despite what some might hope, I don't think the Imperium will kill off the Turians. They have plans for certain races, but they're not going to outright genocide them, just weaken them to the point that either they or the Alliance will be superior. Also, out of all the races, the Imperium has the most grudging respect for the Turians. As for the other 40k races, probably not... except for a certain someone who comes in this chapter...
Doc43Souls: Thank you. I'm glad you liked it. Again, thank you for all the work you do going and looking for typos. It really helps, and I can't thank you enough.
ChaosRaptorEye: I'm glad you liked the chapter, and I'm glad you liked the story as a whole. I look forward to hearing more from you. Funny you should mention our favorite kleptomaniac...
Guest: Indeed. It's time for things to go down.
Guest: Everything is planned out, as stated. I could answer your review as either a yes or no, but either way would be a spoiler, so I won't.
Guest: Thank you for the suggestion! I took it, as you can see. It is indeed a great story, extremely well written, and vastly underrated. As for my future fic, I have an idea, and I think most people will absolutely love it. Cheers, until next time.
BonesofSmite: I'm glad you liked it. The section of the story focusing on the Asari will come two chapters from now. I hope you like it.
Clare Prime of Ultra: Indeed. As mentioned, I have plans for the Asari, though I won't say what they are, or if they're bad or good. You'll just have to see two chapters from now. And, of course, next chapter, Legio Will Walk.
Cringyusername SBSVQQ: Indeed they are. Suffer not the alien to live.
Dragon Blaze-X: Titan time next chapter. I hope you enjoy it.
Valhalan Guardsmen. I can neither confirm nor deny that Sinister will be showing up. We'll just have to see.
Sicarius117: Indeed. The Imperium is ruthlessly efficient, especially with people like Valorn and Cawl carrying out their plans. As for the Dark Mechanicum and the war, things are going to get worse before they get better. If they get better. I suppose we'll find out. Thank you for reading, and I'm glad you liked it!
dralucard: Two chapters from now. I can't wait for them to show up.
PaladinSans: Sorry about that. Such is life, though.
ADeter: Indeed. They're too much fun not to like.
Clown2107: Indeed. As for the other aliens races, I suppose we'll just have to wait and see for what does and does not happen to them.
Anatheras: I'm glad you liked it. There is, of course, a reason I was writing the way I was. Shepard and the Imperials are very powerful, and can get through most thinks with no problem... but this is Mass Effect and Warhammer we're talking about. Things in those universes always goes well... right up until it doesn't. I hope my writing reflects that. It might be hard to see in the long term, though, but I had everything and still have everythign in the future planned out. And, of course, this is Warhammer and Mass Effect. Anyone can die at any moment... It just makes it that much more sweeter when I try to make you think those rules aren't in place. I'm glad you liked it, and I hope you like this chapter!
Qinlongfei: Glad to see you back! Your reviews are always insightful. I prefer to write and see the Imperium as utterly tragic, as opposed to evil. There is a reason why they do things, and it has little to do with the normal men and women on the ground. I suppose it comes from me being an Imperial Guard fan. You see the human moments in 40k, which is the most interesting part.
Guest: Thank you! Things are going to get interest, though I can neither confirm nor deny what will happen in the future to anyone. It makes it that much more interesting. Also, funny you should mention Leviathans...
Matthew: Dies Irae and the Kaban Machine are definitely going to have some interesting scenes in the future. I'm glad you liked the chapter, and hope you like this one!
Austin: Yep. The Imperium and Dark Mechanicum are beginning to go all-out. I'm glad you liked the last chapter, and I think you'll like this one as well!
Emperorhelpme: Thank you! Ave Imperator!
oOo
Interlude: Pieces of the Puzzle
"Great art so often fails to find an audience with the intellect to appreciate it. Sometimes I am filled with woe to think that no one in this blighted millennium has the wit to see the scope of my brilliance." -Fabius Bile, Chief Apothecary of the Emperor's Children
oOo
"It's… empty," hissed Sota-Nul, looking down at the space that had once held a cryogenic chamber. The emissary of Fabricator General Hal stood upon a raised rectangular platform of ancient metal. It was completely barren. What was supposed to be here was not here. Sota-Nul shuddered, suddenly terrified over what her master might perceive as her failure. Why wasn't it here? Why! The words came angrily to her mind as she kicked the floor of the ancient platform
Around her, the open expanse of lush greenery rolled by, uncaring of the war that raged throughout the galaxy. It was a very beautiful planet… for now. Eden Prime was once humanity's premier colony world. Someday soon, it would be again, but under new management. Lord Hal and his disciples would certainly make better rulers than the Systems Alliance, would they not? The verdant green hills would be turned into something more suitable, something more practical and powerful when they were done here. Such would be the way of things under the new order.
However, Sota-Nul was not here to admire the scenery. She was here to acquire an item, and that item didn't seem to be here. She shuddered once more, hoping Lord Hal would not be angry. She had done nothing wrong. It simply was not here; it did not exist. Perhaps the Prothean records were incorrect? Yes, that had to be it. Stupid xenos.
The Dark Mechanicum had taken millions upon millions of records from this galaxy, from pitiful colony birth records to the secrets of the Citadel itself. Nothing was safe from their diabolical mastery over technology. This included what records remained of the ancient Prothean Empire. Lord Hal had been to Ilos and Mars, taking whatever he could find on the masters of this galaxy some fifty-thousand years ago. Of course, controlling the Reapers helped. Locked within their databanks was the complete history of this reality, including every single race they had ever conquered over the countless millennia.
However, it was through the Prothean databases that Hal had learned about this particular tidbit of information. Supposedly, there was a Prothean, a real live Prothean, frozen in time beneath Eden Prime's surface. It was referred to as "the Avatar of Vengeance" in the records. Thanks to Hal and the Dark Mechanicum's knowledge of the ancient alien race, Nul knew that an Avatar was a Prothean that exhibited a single virtue of their society.
This Prothean was supposed to be the Avatar of Vengeance. How quaint. It had been (supposedly) locked away with many, many others of its kind to reawaken after their cycle's Reaper invasion and reconquer the galaxy. Obviously, that had never happened. Sota-Nul would have delighted in reawakening the Prothean to torment him with the knowledge that the Reapers would conquer the galaxy under Lord Hal's command, but it was not to be. There was no Avatar of Vengeance.
And no V.I. either. Upon her horrid, twisted, and certainly no longer human visage, Sota-Nul frowned. In addition to the Protheans and the Avatar, there was supposed to be a V.I. here called "Victory". It made perfect sense, for there was a V.I. supervising all Prothean facilities. There was one on Ilos. What happened to the one here?
The facility was perfectly intact, but where was everyone? It was baffling. The records stated that there should be a fully intact Prothean facility (which there was), and it should contain thousands of Prothean warriors, this Avatar of Vengeance, and should be overseen by the V.I. "Victory". None of this was here. The ancient facility was deserted. Sota-Nul turned to a lower-ranking Adept standing beside her.
"Contact Lord Hal," she instructed the black-robed man. "Tell him that the Prothean facility here is deserted." The Adept nodded.
"Yes, Lady," he replied in a rasping mechanical voice. Nul turned to take in the greenery surrounding them. Already, there were Reapers falling from the sky to consume this planet. Even though there was no Prothean facility here, at least this planet would be theirs. It was something.
oOo
Fabricator General Kelbor-Hal, true ruler of Mars and soon-to-be ruler of this galaxy, looked over the empty expanse of stormy sea with a frown. Lightning streaked overhead as pounding droplets of rain beat down upon his utterly gigantic black-cloaked form. Around him, the forms of a few senior advisors and a cadre of heavily-armed corrupted skitarii stood silently on the slick metal.
He already received Sota-Nul's report from Eden Prime. Nothing. Not a single Dark Gods-damned thing. He was certain there had to be something. Were the Prothean records simply that laughably bad? It was certainly possible. They were stupid xenos after all, wiped out and conquered by the Reapers. It would not be outside of the realm of possibilities that their archives were corrupted by the war, or incorrectly written in the first place. It certainly happened in Hal's home reality, for all species and factions. Many things could be lost or mistranslated in the mire of war.
Too bad, though, that Nul had not been able to find any living Protheans on Eden Prime. Hal would have so loved to see one of them. It would be so… enlightening. Dissection, interviews, cloning… so many options. Too bad. Too bad.
Ah, well. Worse things had happened. Besides, Protheans were not even really necessary, more of a want instead of a need. For all the intriguing possibilities they represented, they would not be helpful in winning the war. He simply wanted them as something of a pet project. In the end, he did not blame Sota-Nul for the lack of Protheans on Eden Prime. It was probably something lost to time or some idiot archivist who had written something down incorrectly. Perhaps the wrong planet? The thought cheered Hal up. Maybe Eden Prime was the wrong planet. Maybe the Protheans would be elsewhere.
However, it was not really the Protheans he was after. They would not help him win the war, conquer the galaxy, or become akin to a god. They were the dead remnants of a failed empire, conquered and destroyed so long ago by the Reapers. They were a pet project; nothing more.
But here… this place… this would most definitely help Kelbor-Hal reign supreme. The ex-Fabricator General of Mars looked across the wind-swept sea. Yes, this place, this singular unassuming ocean world, was perhaps the most important planet in the galaxy.
It had not been easy. Shrouded in myth and legend, hidden even to the Reapers themselves, this place and what it held was perhaps the largest and most well-kept secret in the galaxy. But Kelbor-Hal, in his brilliance and genius, had figured out the puzzle.
The first race, the creators of the Reapers, were here. Or, at least they should be. Currently, Hal was having doubts.
The mysterious first sentients, known from what Hal could gather as "Leviathans", were the creators of the Reapers. Indeed, Kelbor-Hal had a few ancient and fuzzy records from Harbinger, the first Reaper, of the first cycle. It was these creatures that created the Reapers; it was these creatures that had the ability to mentally dominate any nearby lifeforms to serve their will. Such power. Only the Old Ones or Dark Gods themselves could compare. But, if Hal got his hands on a Leviathan… then he could access the power to create life from nothing, and to mentally dominate anyone of his choosing.
He would be a god.
But… there didn't seem to be anything here on this empty, stormy planet. Every clue pointed here, and yet there was nothing. Reports, and even the wreckage he was currently standing on, showed that there was a great deal of uncertainty and disappearances to anyone who came here. This place was like the Eye of Terror in a way; unkown, untraceable, and home to ancient beings beyond human comprehension.
Yet Kelbor-Hal and the Traitor Primarchs had entered and charted the Eye of Terror. They had made it their home. What was one ancient xenos compared to that? What was one ancient alien compared to him?
Hal was confident of his own abilities to conquer and learn from these Leviathans… but they didn't seem to exist. When the Olympus had come to this planet, there had been nothing mysterious to happen. There were no power surges; nothing was disabled by what should be the fearsome power of the first race in this reality.
The silence had continued as the forces of the Dark Mechanicum landed. There was wreckage here, proving something made all these countless ships disappear and crash, but they were not harried nor harmed. It was… disconcerting. Where there should be movement, where there should be defensive measures by this creature or creatures to defend their territory, there was nothing.
"My lord, we have completed our scans of the planet." An Adept interrupted Hal from his thoughts. The traitorous Fabricator General turned to look down at the man. Go on, he gestured. "There is nothing here. We have scanned through every single type of sweep, and there is no life here. The only signatures we have gotten are the wrecked electronics of these ships." The Adept gestured at the destroyed starships around them. "Other than that, there is no life here, biological or mechanical." Hal scowled.
"Are you absolutely sure?" he asked in reply. The Adept nodded.
"Yes, my lord. We even had psykers scan the planet. If something as large and powerful as what you are looking for was here, they certainly would have detected its presence. As it is, my lord, there is nothing here but the wreckage and empty water."
Hal wanted to scream. Nothing. Nothing! There was nothing here! Every clue pointed here, every piece of evidence. Nothing, nothing, nothing!
He whirled back to the Adept in fury. Very well. He could continue his search later, when he had more time. He'd had enough of this fruitless hunt. He could win the war without the Leviathans. He'd be back later to continue his search.
"Take us back aboard the Olympus," he snarled to the Adept. "It's time we ended this."
oOo
Exactly Four Days Ago
Trazyn the Infinite, Archaeovist of Solemnace, Curator of the Prismatic Galleries, Overlord of the Nihilakh Dynasty and collector extraordinaire grinned as his long necrodermis fingers slid across the black form of the cryogenic casket. How utterly wonderful! The last Prothean. Trazyn savored the words in his mind. The last living Prothean. And it was his. All his!
It was remarkably easy to track down. Then again, Trazyn did have literally millions of years of experience in finding this sort of thing. For the mortals, it might be a lot harder. The Lord of Solemnace shrugged as he traced the casket. Oh, well. Their loss. His gain. The last Prothean, the Avatar of Vengeance, would be a perfect addition to his grand collection.
He had also taken Victory, the V.I. that guarded this place. While Trazyn had little use for synthetic intelligences, it would be rather fitting to add the V.I. to his new singular Prothean exhibit. Besides, it wouldn't do to leave it here so others might figure out exactly who took the Prothean from it.
It also wouldn't do to leave it here for the Reapers or Dark Mechanicum to find. Trazyn was not much for politics: he was simply a collector, after all. However, if Hal ruled the galaxy, it would put a damper on his efforts. Should Hal and the Dark Mechanicum capture Victory, then it would mean one more piece of information for them. Trazyn didn't want that to happen.
Reaching out, a cube of utterly blackness appeared in Trazyn's palm. With a singular motion, the cryogenic casket and the Prothean inside it was sucked into the tesseract labyrinth. If Trazyn's metal mouth could have smiled, it would have been doing so. Perhaps one of the greatest treasures of this galaxy, and the last member of a species, was now safely in his possession. He couldn't wait to get back to Solemnace to put it in his galleries.
oOo
At the exact same time he was on Eden Prime, Trazyn was also on 2181 Desponia. He grinned to himself. Such were the benefits of surrogate hosts. He had many copies of himself ready to go, and should he die or be in peril… well, he could always just hop to another necron's body and take it over, molding it to his own image. It was quite the handy ability. Certainly, it has saved his metallic hide more than once.
In this case, his alternate self that was actually him (it was really just him with two bodies) was somewhere else, collecting other things. Besides being a literal lifesaver, surrogate hosts were also exceptionally useful for his collecting missions throughout the universe. He was literally able to be in two places at once. What more could anyone ask for?
Even though having the last Prothean was an utterly superb exhibit, Trazyn wanted more. It was his purpose in life, after all. It was why he was here. This… this would make an exhibit only equalled by two or three others in his planet-sized museum, and that was saying a lot.
When he came to this planet, unimaginatively named 2181 Despoina by the humans, his ship had been rocked by extreme force. The power had nearly been shut down, the systems nearly overridden… but it was a necron ship. The technology of their race was superior to all others, even the first race of this universe. Indeed, it was superior to the first race of Trazyn's home universe, so why should it be any different here?
Trazyn's ship had landed unharmed. It had been quite easy to deduce exactly where the Leviathan was; he had millions of years of practice, after all. So, instructing his few bodyguards to wait with the ship, Trazyn had dove beneath the waves to add a god to his collection.
Throughout his countless years collecting, Trazyn had been underwater many times. The crushing blackness of the deep depths mattered little to him; his body, made of Living Metal, was more than a match for the cold void of space, the radiation-choked hellscapes of Mechanicus forge worlds, the crushing pressure of the sea, and even the unreality of the Warp itself. Besides his huge flair for drama, there was a reason his title was "Infinite".
Eventually, he sank down to nearly the bottom of the ocean. His staff glowed eerie green in the blackness beneath the waves. Standing upon a ledge of rock, he waited.
He didn't have to wait long. He could feel a pressure deep within his metallic bones. It rocked the ledge he stood upon, causing a few stray pieces to tumble into the abyss. With terrifying suddenness, a huge creature rose up majestically in front of him. It was a large cephalopod, with a strange center face, a plated body, and several of what looked to be tentacle-like appendages. It looked nearly exactly like a Reaper, except for in organic form.
"YOU HAVE COME TOO FAR." The creature's voice echoed through the depths around them, pervading through the silence of the sea. Another huge pressure rose. Trazyn could feel his neural circuits working overtime. Looking up slyly at the creature, he smiled. No one could invade his mind. It was simply an impossibility. The creature, the Leviathan, seemingly frustrated that it could not overwhelm his will, continued. "THIS IS NOT YOUR DOMAIN. YOU HAVE BREACHED THE DARKNESS."
"Indeed I have," replied Trazyn smugly. "I can breach any darkness."
"TURN BACK," boomed Leviathan. "OR YOU WILL BE DESTROYED. OR A THRAWL. AS ALL THINGS ARE." Around him, the darkness seemed to recede as Trazyn's staff glowed brighter.
"I will be the thrawl to no one, especially you," replied Trazyn with a growl. The pressure grew even greater. Trazyn's necrodermis body held.
"WE ARE THE FIRST SPECIES. WE ARE THE APEX OF LIFE. YOUR PRIMITIVE MIND CANNOT COMPREHEND ABSOLUTE POWER. EVERY WORLD WAS OURS. EVERY SPECIES A TOOL IN OUR GRASP. WE REIGNED ABSOLUTE. WE WERE AKIN TO WHAT YOUR PRIMITIVE MIND WOULD THINK OF AS GODS."
"And we killed the gods," replied Trazyn. For once, his voice was dangerous and low. This was a sensitive topic to necrons. "We killed the first race of our universe. They were like you: selfish. Controlling. Greedy. They created life from nothing, and held the secrets to all things. Very similar to you, actually. You created the Reapers, and now you hide here, afraid of your creation. A coward." Trazyn grinned, a wild light in his glowing green eyes. "And you are right to fear them. Neither the Old Ones nor the Star Gods could stand up to the creations born of their greed and selfishness. We enslaved the gods, and you're next!"
Around them, the ocean grew to a deep, unnatural black. Light itself was sucked from the void as an all-pervading darkness replaced it. Trazyn grinned up at the being smugly.
"WHAT… WHAT IS THIS?" it asked, confused and panicky for the first time in its nearly-immortal life. "WHAT-" Trazyn grinned as the Leviathan was sucked, howling, into a tesseract labyrinth strong enough to hold it.
"You will make a fine addition to my collection," he told the large black cube. "Perhaps I should put you next to the Deceiver as an enslaved gods exhibit…" He scratched his chin, frowning. "Or perhaps not. That's probably not a good idea." Looking back up to the surface high above, Trazyn send a mental message to his guard.
Send the ship down here. I have what I was looking for.
Yes, lord, came the immediate reply. Trazyn grinned to himself. There could only be one Infinite.
oOo
Corporal Nictus Faldros frowned as he looked around the base camp. Smoky air filled his nostrils as he hefted his Phaeston and stared at the countless Imperial and Hierarchy soldiers coming and going. With a sigh, he folded the weapon into its storage position and put it onto the clips on his back. A few Steel Legionnaires, carrying heavy crates of tank ammunition, shouldered past him, taking no notice. He almost didn't see them as he pondered.
It had been a day since his group had moved off the front lines and gone back to a central camp for rest and resupply. It was a testament to the strength of the Imperium and Hierarchy's forces that there could actually be rotations off the lines. It was only a day or two… but it was at least something.
At the present moment, Nictus couldn't care less about a break from the fighting. His mind was a muddle of confusion, and all of it was centered around a certain Steel Legionnaire.
What… had happened? He didn't understand any of it. There was clearly something wrong. Angela had been perfectly fine, perfectly interested in him (or so he thought; maybe not? It was all so confusing), had perfectly liked, even preferred, his company, had even kissed him… But he hadn't seen her once since she had run off. He hadn't seen hide nor tail of her in five days. Not once. Not a single appearance, and that was saying something.
She had utterly avoided him at all costs, going so far as to take her name off the duty roster when it was with his. Nictus had purposely maneuvered himself into the same spots and patrols she was in when he first met her, trying to learn more about her and get to know her. He knew she had done the same; every clue pointed towards it, and besides, both the duty officer and Angela herself had told him as much. But now she had gone back and rearranged it, going so far as to avoid being anywhere close to him at all costs. Nictus simply didn't understand it.
Was she interested in him? Did… did he do something wrong? She had been the one to kiss him. The Turian turned it over in his mind, bewildered. He was perfectly respectful and polite to her at all times. He made no unwanted moves or advances, and hadn't even actually touched her at all. Not even in the line of duty. He was baffled by it. Humans were so confusing.
He had even gone and asked several of the other Steel Legionnaires about her, stating that he was scheduled for duty alongside her but her name had been pulled off all the lists. The other Legionnaires told him that she wasn't really speaking to anyone. She had always been more reserved, or so they said, but she seemed to be avoiding speaking or seeing anyone, both Imperial and Turian.
Earlier, Nictus might have been delighted that the Imperials were so casual and accepting of him, treating him as a fellow soldier instead of a foul xeno, but his confusion and worry trumped all else. She wasn't just avoiding him, she was avoiding everyone. He simply didn't understand it. What happened?
More than confused, he was worried about her. Nictus had always been empathetic at heart, and more so concerning her due to his crush on Angela (yes, he admitted it. There was a crush there). It simply wasn't like someone, wasn't like her to shut herself away from the world. He pondered the question over and over again in his mind. What happened? Did he do something wrong? For the life of him, he couldn't think of anything. What had he done? Why was Angela acting this way?
With a deep breath to steady himself, Nictus resolved to find out. Even if she didn't want him, even if she never did, he could still be concerned for her. It was simply the right thing to do. Even though he was a filthy xeno, he cared. Let the Imperials think on that.
It was not too hard to figure out where Angela was. He didn't even have to ask anyone. This was a military camp, and everyone's assignments and bunking areas were listed. Strangely, Angela had one all to herself. Yes, there was a lot of room, but it would require some asking to get a single tent or room all to yourself. What's more the question of why one would want to do this: the soldiers all preferred being with each other and having fun together before they went back into combat rather than sitting by themselves. Another piece to the puzzle.
After figuring out where Angela was, Nictus set out on his self-appointed mission. He threaded his way through the camp, passing countless Imperial and Hierarchy soldiers bustling to and fro, completing a breathtaking variety of tasks from the impressive to the mundane. Eventually, he reached his destination: a small unassuming tent at the outskirts of the camp, fabric the color of the Steel Legion's coats.
He stood there for a moment, suddenly at a loss. What… what was he supposed to do? How did he approach this situation? It was suddenly terribly awkward, and for a moment he thought of simply leaving. Instead he stood there, and took a breath, trying to regain some measure of confidence. Stepping forward, he knocked on one of the sturdy tent poles.
Nothing. Sighing to himself in utter frustration, he turned in a circle, trying to figure out what to do. Well, if she shut herself away from the world, would it be a good idea to not listen if she was in for her own good? And what if she wasn't? Oh, why did this have to be so complicated?
Finally deciding, more out of exasperation than anything, Nictus tentatively took a step forward and moved the tent flap aside and stepped forward, careful to look down in case he caught Angela in some sort of compromising position.
The interior of the tent was completely dark. It seemed as if all traces of light had been covered, trying to fit a grim and dull mood. Carefully, Nictus looked up. Was Angela even here?
It seemed that she was. She sat on the edge of her cot, clothing wrinkled and messy, head pointed down and legs drawn up together, the picture of misery. A laspistol hung loosely in her hands. She didn't even seem to notice him enter. The rest of the room seemed messy, far too messy for a professional soldier, as if Angela simply didn't care where everything was placed. Nictus rumbled softly, a confused and worried tone in his subvocals. Though Turian subvocals were, for the most part, outside human hearing range, Angela's head snapped up.
"You," she half hissed, half panicked. Nictus cocked his head. Angela's grip tightened around the handle of the laspistol. She brought the weapon up and pointed it directly at the Turian's chest.
Nictus took half a step backward in utter shock. His mind reeled in panic. What was this? What was happening?
Angela's hand shook, the laspistol seemingly vibrating, unable to keep still as she trained it on him.
"You… you are a xenos," she choked out, half sobbing. For the first time, Nictus noticed her face. It was drawn and pinched with pain and worry, tighter with lack of food or nourishment. Her eyes were hollow and wild, red-rimmed with tears and lack of sleep. Heavy bags shown pointedly beneath them, further highlighting her acute lack of rest. Her enter body shook with the laspistol. "You are a xenos," she repeated, as if trying to convince herself of something. Tears fell down her face.
Nictus took a step forward, holding up his hands to show he was no threat, subtly hunching his great height over to appear smaller.
"Stay back!" Angela jerked the laspistol up. Nictus froze. He tried to appear as unthreatening as possible before her.
"Angela, what's wrong?" he asked, voice filled with concern. He tried to be as soothing as possible. "You pulled your name out of the duty roster, and you haven't been showing up to anything. Everyone's worried about you."
"You… you, I- hr, gah!" Her fingers tightened on the laspistol. It did nothing to stop the shaking. "You. Are. A. Xenos," she repeated, as if the words were some sort of demented mantra. Nictus took another slow, easy step forward, hands still held out. He opened his mouth, but Angela beat him to it.
"You are a xenos." There were tears streaming fully down her face now. Her voice was utterly broken. It tore at Nictus's heart to see her like this; to see anyone like this, but especially her. "You are a xenos. I… I can't be in love with a xenos," she sobbed. "And so you must die," she choked out.
Oh. Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh.
That's what this was about. The sheer brutal force of it hit Nictus like a wrecking ball. The Imperium was a rigid and intolerant place, one that hated aliens above nearly all else. Their traditions were ingrained deep in all their subjects, and now Nictus fully understood, the terrible weight of perspective and knowledge settling over him. Love was a funny thing. It had no regard for anything else, and could hit people with the force of a hammer at the strangest times with no predictability. Angela had seemed to like him, had probably liked him from the beginning, but suppressed it, didn't acknowledge it. On that night, when she kissed him, there was no denying it: she did actually like him. A Turian. A filthy alien.
Nictus didn't think it could get much worse from here.
It got worse.
"I… I… I…" Angela simply repeated the words, fingers tightening and uncoiling around the laspistol's grip and trigger as Nictus simply stood helplessly in front of her. "You… I can't kill you," she finally admitted, fully sobbing now, the crushing weight of her failure settling over her. "It is my duty. To kill the alien enemies of humanity. I failed. I failed Armageddon, I failed the God-Emperor. I'm a heretic." Her words were frantic, mumbling, and Nictus couldn't actually tell if she was speaking them to him or herself.
Her head shot up, bloodshot and bagged eyes looking at Nictus raggedly. There was something else there, though, some emotion Nictus couldn't quite trace.
"I can't kill you, Nictus," she whispered. "But still I must do my duty."
She put the barrel of the laspistol to the side of her head.
"No!" Angela's head turned sharply, weapon freezing in place as she looked at Nictus curiously. It was almost as if she was so confused and startled by his reaction she could do nothing else.
Nictus moved forward, closing the distance to the cot in a single long stride. He knelt before the cot where Angela sat. Recognizing this was a very tense situation, he didn't move any further from there. Instead, he looked up pleadingly at her.
"Angela, I know… where you come from, and everything associated with it… but… I…" he trailed off, trying to find words that wouldn't result in his death, or worse, hers.
"You know nothing," she said, tired, sad, but with a note of finality. The gun came up again.
"Wait!" Nictus's voice was pleading. "Angela, wait, please. No. Please no," he said, voice soft and begging. "I… have fought with you. I would never, ever betray you or your trust. I feel the same way you feel for me. It isn't so odd where I come from, humans and aliens getting along, loving one another. I know it's different in your galaxy, I know what the Imperium is like… but please. No. Don't do this," he whispered. Angela laughed, a horrible, strained noise.
"I kissed a xenos. I betrayed the God-Emperor. There can be no other way," she replied. Nictus swallowed painfully, subvocals begging. The gun twitched in Angela's hand.
"What if… what if I followed the God-Emperor?" he asked. He was starting to maybe grasp at straws here, but if it meant Angela wouldn't… do that, then it was worth it. If she never spoke to him again and lived, it was still worth it.
"How… how could you, a xenos, follow the Imperial Creed?" she asked, half laughing in her tiredness, half curious.
"Because…" Nictus shifted awkwardly, putting pressure off his knees. "Because Turians say that when they die, they become a Spirit on Palaven. There is nothing else. It doesn't take anything away, it makes perfect sense that the God-Emperor is the god of humanity," he said gently. Maybe he was still grasping at straws, but, by the Spirits, if he had to follow the God-Emperor to save Angela, then he would follow the God-Emperor. Plus, he did have a point. The Imperial Cult had no theological disputes with the Turian religion. "Unlike the aliens of where you come from, I don't dispute that. I can still love humanity, love the Imperium, love the God-Emperor." He paused for a moment. "Love you," he added in a small voice. "I feel the same way. You couldn't kill me, and I could never hurt you. So if you don't want this, if you never want to see me again, if you want me to help you or leave you forever, I will. I love you." There. It was out in the open. "But please, Angela, don't do this." He gestured at the laspistol.
Angela stared at him for a moment. The laspistol twitched.
"Would you do it?" she whispered softly. "Would you follow the Emperor and the Imperial Creed?"
"Yes," he replied without hesitation. He refrained from saying "for you", because he knew if that was the reason, she wouldn't trust him. He had to choose to follow the Imperium and Emperor of his own volition, not for her.
The laspistol twitched again. Angela's face scrunched together, a mess of emotions. Her hands, then her whole body shook.
"I… I, argg!" She threw the weapon with all her might against the wall of the tent, then broke down crying, head in her hands. It continued, the soft echo of human weeping sounding through the tent. Nictus felt drained. Knowing nothing else to do, he slumped down on the floor, back against the cot, and stared hollowly at the wall.
oOo
There we have it! Trazyn just saved the universe, in case you were wondering. Kelbor-Hal with a Leviathan under his control would be horrifying. However, Hal's failure to find it means his hunt is over, and he's returning to the war at the helm of the Olympus. In addition, I hope the Angela/Nictus scene was dark enough for most of your tastes. I'd better not get any "but I don't like the xenophilia" because that was literally almost suicide. No xenophilia involved.
I hope you all enjoyed, and, as always, I appreciate any comments, criticisms, concerns, questions, and reviews!
Oh, and next chapter... IT'S TITAN TIME.