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Rictus Void

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When man's imagination becomes the instrument for fear then man has become a machine; lodged in space and stifled by reiteration of the void. In this spectrum of madness, whispers infect the brain: a forgotten language of the Faceless Gods lost in their rictus. - Anonymous

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Chapter 1 Pt. 1 - Overture

"Death is lenient--," he whispered, "there is no return from it. However, with him who has come back out of the pits of hell, exhausted and knowing, there is no more peace, suicide is a comfort." The voice broke into a soft sigh for a moment, and then those yellow eyes, piercingly yellow eyes affixed them-selves into the camera, unflinching. "I feel pity for our brothers, the apostates--they will never know peace."

"It's been thirty-six hours since the outbreak, and I cannot remember how many died: I monitored the life support systems, and most of them have been shut off to contain the pathogen--god, dying in your sleep, and not even knowing it. Heh, what monsters had we become?" He whispered something into the microphone before going silent again, in the length of a ten-minute message; he spent half of it, staring. Eerily he stared directly into the eye of the camera, looking at his viewer pleadingly, but behind the veneer of his horror, an aura of madness.

"We did what he had to do, from the very beginning it was all about keeping it contained, retarded, and subdued: but it seems that these demons had so much in store. So much they just toyed with us as we watched, and analyzed--over and over, failure after failure!" The scientist slammed his hand down and then glared at the camera, his eyes widened and then he reared back from it, screamed out a spine-chilling screech, and held the monitor against his face.

"I would have killed, and I would have murdered, like all the others! THEY DID WRONG! SO MUCH WRONG!" The voice broke out into a quiet sob, softly, trembling under the weight of the forced warning: the image fuzzed into a distorted silhouette as he turned his head frantically left and right and sank down in the chair. His voice began to break into the squeals of an animal in pain, and he disappeared from the chair he sat in.

Each listener remained vigilant, observing the recording of their dying brother, a few had lowered their eyes, and not a single breath heard in the stillness of the vessel.

The Sangheili only knew a fraction of the event, what little information anonymously delivered days before helped them understand the chronology that remained wrapped in obscurity. Their scientists had created a pathogen to destroy the Flood, a pesticide that would not harm their soldiers over a short exposure. The panicking informant relayed that there were levels of contamination dealt with 'humanly' and without discretion. The scientist had crawled back into his chair, his suit blackened, and his face wet and shinning with azure blood dripping down his mandibles onto his collar.

". . . There is still electricity; the fusion reactor supplies enough energy to keep it lasting for another five hundred years! Oh, if there is one thing about our race that is static, hehe-- it is the life expectancy of machines! The Forerunners anticipated blasphemy: and all our machines hold no moral gradient for it!"

There were a few breaths from the male as he quieted down again. "This Facility can be occupied by over one hundred thousand people: I cannot-- I don't remember some of them--there is still electricity, and some floors are flooded--". He coughed, hissing and then there was a metallic scraping, something loud collapsed to the ground and then male growled loudly. His wheezing was weak, and he began to mumble softly, "Flooded--some some floors are flooded--."

"End Transmission." Commander Z ba 'Ikaolee stepped forwards from the wall as the screen disappeared, leaving the bay in a shallow lighting and then stood promptly in the center. He held his hands behind his back, the lustrous golden armor refracting a blemish of purple from ambient lighting of the ships floors. The hull of the ship felt tightly compacted to accommodate a regiment of twenty men, plus fifteen Kig-yar present in the mission. Z ba took a few steps forward and crossed his arms behind his back, "There is another ten minutes of garbled footage. There is no need to watch it."

"Was the survivor found?"

Z ba shook away his deadpan expression, turning his eyes to his brothers. "The message was bounced from the iron content of the moons nearby, our drones found no traces of the pod in space. We believe he barely made it away from the laboratory before he killed him-self."

The Kig-yar near the back spoke quietly to each other under the Sangheili's conversation, and Skirmisher Commander Xal pondered why in the great hell the ship was built so far away. It perturbed him to think the Sangheili where so reckless, or secretive about their operations: he of course based this feeling off the Covenant Dogma.

"Commander," Var grunted under his breath to his left, "What do you think of this?"

"I think we're being paid too much to act as scavengers." Xal replied under his breath, "And I think they're too superstitious. They're going to rile each other about this, and who knows what will happen."

"What about the survivor? I've seen men come from battle less deranged than that one--" Kiv said, turning his head to his left to whisper, "There is more to it than what they tell us."

Xal frowned and looked at Commanders Z ba, and Sub-commander Anfi, and he shook his head. "I do not think even they know what happened aboard it. It would be best if we did not take the vanguard: last thing I want is to be cannon fodder."

The other Kig-Yar shared an equal apprehension to go near this necropolis; the monetary gain was in fact plenty persuasion, but it did nothing to shake the cold chill they felt at their shoulders. His cousin, Gat, was superstitious enough it left him quietly praying under his breath to the Covenant and Xal turned his nose away from him with displeasure. He shifted on his side and looked behind him: the sun shown in through the windows and revealed to them a shadowed silhouette of the vessel with a rutilant reflection of Solar Panels that adorned the sides ostentatiously.

It floated almost lifelessly; the craft resembled a dead insect with legs outstretched towards them, arched inwards, as if to withhold its contents. The size of the ship was unknown, but it was estimated to be six kilometers in length, this alone was daunting. Combined with several thousand rooms, the sheer density of the vessel was beyond description, observed only as a titan in the sky.

The Three Sisters Moons greeted them from the horizon, beautiful spheres of cobalt, hoary, and crimson seemed frozen in the planet's orbit. Xal's eyes remained transfixed on the vessel as they neared the docking station, soon turning his eyes to his comrades, seeing similar apprehension in their faces. Admittedly, despite the previous battle they had on an Installation where Sangheili Heretics had claimed half of his men, Xal was wary to board the desolate ship.

"Ok men, we are now inside of the Docking Station. Our mission I will restate: to find their project, and all remnants." Z ba stepped towards his men, speaking crisply from underneath his helmet. "We do not know who is alive or who is dead but we know the dangers of the Flood. If you see one, shoot him."

"Sir," one of the brothers lifted his head up. "Do you think the gods will condemn us, for desecrating this ship further?"

Z ba turned his head slightly, unsure of what to say and hesitated. "The gods-- I believe our dead kin have expiated hell for what they did."

The ship's momentum eased up, and the gravity belt did the rest of the work to dock it in the bay; mauve, lucent, pathways extended from the bay to the single ship. There was a hum, a static-like hiss as it connected and solidified; beneath them the chasm of space, a velvet black magnetic ocean undulated.

Lights flickered on outside, high overhead the bright bulbs buzzed and the soldiers quickly exited onto the flat platform and behind them, a large metal shell secured the station in ambient lighting. Dead silent was the half-pipe shaped station; it resonated with groans, as if it were moaning, signaling vital parts that there was a disturbance. Z ba craned his head around, his eyes scanning the port, gripping his gun calmly, but in his heart he felt it--that instinctive unease, the feeling of not being wanted, the feeling of an enemy looking at you abhorrently.

The men stood outside in a line along the bridge, their presence, were like a stain on the dirty exterior, and their warm breath pressed against their helmets. They remained silent for many minutes as they walked along the lengthy paths to the front of the station, passing emptied ships and stacked boxes.

"It reeks of carrion." One of them whispered into the receiver, "Where is it coming from?"

"Whatever it was it is long dead," Second in command Anfi said firmly. "It's like they say--if it doesn't smell, then it can kill you."

"I wouldn't be so arrogant." Z ba spoke with a slight growl, turning his eyes to his right, "Remember what we are dealing with."

"Yes my brother," Anfi nodded, "But, I want to make sure our brothers do not soak in fear, lest the enemy has the upper hand."

Commander Z ba took his first step onto the solid station dock: there was a growl in the station, a metallic groan of pain as the bridge beneath them creaked from the sudden weight, and then the noise slowly faded into oblivious.

Xal looked around slowly, his sharp eyes staring at parts of the bay that remained in darkness, and felt unease. He had not encountered the flood in his years, he had only heard stories, but stories never brought him food, and he regretted having ignored them before. They walked in single file; beneath of them blackness, and ahead was a monolith of metal siding with a single door. Approaching the door, Xal, the team Engineer, plugged a cable into the door's palm scanner and glanced at a small plasma screen.

"Will it open?" Commander Z ba inquired smoothly, turning his eyes up to the mounted camera for a moment.

"This door is locked under the Captain's Authorization." Xal took his hand from the pad and croaked, "The bio-scanner is still functioning. You will need to--"

"Get in the system, yes. Let us go to the control room, Anfi follow suit. The rest of you split up and secure this dock; check the storage rooms."

Xal sent his operatives out with the other Sangheili, following Z ba and Anfi to the control room through a round door wherein the reassuring sight of an undamaged console greeted them. Wires hung from the roof, and there was a mess all over the floor, however, it seemed the ship's system functioned, and this brought a wave of relief to him.

"It seems our messenger relapsed when attempting to escape: he left everything in perfect order."

"Either that or he didn't know what to do." Anfi commented.

"Regardless, let us set our rigs in synch with the computer. Commander Xal, if you would."

Xal turned on the retina scanner and Personnel Archive list, creating two new listings in the system, finding it the registration system oddly unlocked. He stopped for a moment and tilted his head as he read over the list of deceased personnel.

"What is it?" Z ba asked from overhead.

"I don't know exactly: it may just be that it is registering these personnel as deceased, but--," Xal pointed upwards at a name, which had flickered and then black again and then red again. It stopped for a few moments, and then near the bottom of the screen, two more names fluxed from black to red, and then black once more. He flexed his right eyebrow as he stared at it for a few seconds.

"Can you locate the previous team?" Z ba began, resting his hand on the chair, "Can we determine their location?"

"It does not register the location of the deceased." Xal mumbled, "I do not know why."

"What of this activity?" Z ba demanded, pointing his finger at the screen.

"It may just be damaged, or a broken system on a broken ship." Anfi leaned over and pointed, "They're flickering from static brain activity, most likely residual alpha waves. Let us become synchronized, and then we can search for our living brothers."

"Very well--Xal, let's move forward."

Xal turned his attention to the screen, inputting a series of commands into the ship, accessing the DNA scanner, and then synchronizing it to the ship's Personnel System. Z ba stepped forward, placed his hand on a pad and turned his orange eye to the scanner, wincing slightly as a needle pricked the base of his finger and his DNA was registered.

"Commander Z Ba, welcome," the computer chirped.

"Set all doors to first floor unlocked." Z ba commanded smoothly, "New Access code is one-one-two-three-five-eight."

"Yes Commander." The soft voice answered, and there was a low hum as the lights suddenly turned on and the ship began to breathe a low guttural hum. The door outside grunted and shifted, unlocking it-self, and then commander Z ba motioned for them to follow outside where their brothers waited for them.

"We're going to secure this bottom floor; Anfi will take his men with him while the Kig and the rest of you follow me."

Z ba flicked his hand, they moved, passing under the door, then into a pitch-black corridor, which led downwards, and then to a second door that led into a small, forked service station. The room split off into two different direction, and Z ba took his men to the right, while Anfi disappeared with his men to the left. The halls ahead were high and arched, the tunnels smooth and lightly reflecting the dim, purple lights on either side of oblong shaped structures at the base of the pillars;

Z ba's eyes were careful and like a hawk as he examined every section, emerging from the service station into a great hall fitted with many tables, and left in a mess. He could not see clearly the floor, but could make out heaps of debris and overturned tables. Immediately Z ba staggered, his lungs constricting as a powerful, noisome scent penetrated his nostrils every direction.

"Sir, your breathing is very loud." Anfi began as he and the men ventured towards the west end, heading into the back.

"There is something dead on this end," Z ba coughed and snarled. "Gaar, this smell--it's disgusting! Why is the ventilation system turned off?"

Chapter 1. Pt. 2

"Hhhh-hhhh-hhhh!" Kvaz panted, gripping his chest and shutting his eyes tightly and slammed him-self against the wall of a closet. He gripped his stomach, and gritted his teeth down hard; he panted rapidly through his nostrils, sucking in hard breaths as he tried to steady him-self. Kvaz shut his eyes and quivered, his hands shaking as he held the carbine rifle by his waist, opening one eye slowly and looking at the small puddle of light bleeding under the door.

"Can't you hear them?" Whispered a deep voice from the hallway, as it has done the first time Kvaz encountered the survivor; this time, he dared not answer, for in lieu of their encounter he suffered a deep gash in his right leg.

Abruptly this abomination slammed its hands against the wall, presumably, and shrieked, "CAN'T YOU HEAR THEM? SHUT THE DOOR! SHUT THE DOOR!"

He remained motionless, tremulous at his hands as he stared at the pacing shadows, his nose riled from the noisome odor. He held his hand over his face and held his breath until the beast had lost interest minutes later; slumping off with the wet slap of its foot into the steel floor: and soon, the only sound was venous hum. Kvaz closed his eyes again, exhaling long and deeply; his head throbbed with unbearable pain, as did his leg, but the Commander sought to salvage sagacity once more.

When he had achieved stillness in his thoughts, he bravely emerged from the closet, crouching down and then walking around into the next corridor to see a red light hovered at the top of ever door to his dismay. There was not much to show for his effort, the door parted, then clanked, and shut: he sighed, rolling his head back to groan.

GRRRAAAAAAH! Screamed a voice from behind him, so loudly jumped and then ran forward, slamming his feet as hard as he could, his breath weak and breaking. His chest surged with pain as his heart raced: the strain of constantly running had taken its toll and the Commander's stamina was quickly dissolving. At the top of every door, the light shined an omen of doom for him, and he pleaded with the gods to spare him.

"Come on--by the gods come on!" Kvaz 'Alakavee cried out, daring not to look behind him but simply shoved him-self to the left, and embraced another long hallway.

"They are coming through the door!" A voice screamed madly above the others, "They are coming through the door! STOP THEM!"

Kvaz closed his eyes in pain, gasped out a sharp, agonizing breath, and fell against the wall, holding his chest and rasping. He turned behind him, the hoards of feet were nearing, and soon they would have him. Then, he saw a green glow in the corner of his eyes: he had stopped next to a functioning palm reader and then slammed his hand onto the screen.

"W-what!?" He stammered as the screen froze and the door parted slightly, but stopped half way. He lowered his eyes almost as if he were going to cry, but slammed his hand into the pad and then the door, "DAMN YOU! OPEN!"

Another cried out from his left, this one was female crawling with a leg, severed from the bone. Kvaz grimaced and then turned to the door, which reared back, and then forwards. He slammed his fist in-between, shouting in pain as he pushed it open, every muscle in his body tensed to fullest as he exerted his remaining strength.

DING!

Kvaz heard it, the signal, and then without a second to waste he had darted inside of the lit quarters, his fatigued arms holding his rifle at eye level towards the door. As it shut he caught a glimpse of the face of his brother that had persisted, seeing the mangled face as it starred with the more horrifying intent the Commander had bore. The door shut, fully, and then locked with a slight hiss as it released air from the locks.

The two Sangheili screamed, one pounding away madly at the door while the legless scraped at the base. Kvaz backed away with his weapon raised, stepping over shattered glass but lost his footing to a cylinder object.

"Dammit!" He shouted as he thrashed and jumped to his feet, his eyes darting around, the ringing in his ears so blistering it made him even more frantic and dazed.

He panted and swallowed his saliva, his chest rising and falling rapidly as the banging on the door began to cease, but the monsters repeated them-selves continually. His eyes did not budge from the door, and he endured the endless reiteration of growls and shouts.

A small screen to the left of the door showed him a view from the camera overhead the door, and Kvaz looked now more calmly at the pursuers. Their eyes clouded over, the flesh around their mandibles had deteriorated as well as other signs of abuse and decay was visible. Their movements were unnatural, beast like with sharp jerks and rapid movements; he rest his hand against the wall to feel it press back, steadying his weak legs.

"Please--just leave," Kvaz whispered, gazing into the familiar face that had pursued him.

The violent beasts had quieted down after what seemed an eternity, their voices falling into flat monotones that trailed off down the hall and Kvaz had remained motionless in front of the camera the whole time.

He lowered his weapon slightly, looking around the room, extending his arm to turn on the light switch. His eyes closed as he adjusted to the suddenly bright rays, and then opened them, reluctantly turning his gaze upon a disheveled room riddled with claw-like abrasions to the walls. He could smell fresh blood in the room, not the intoxicating stench of death outside the door, but closeness to death. He turned around from the door, walking through the living room cautiously, checking the bathroom and then the bedroom to his right.

"This is commander Kvaz 'Alakavee, is anyone out there? I am speaking on all frequencies--" He held the communicator close to him as he stepped quietly over the floors, but dropped his arm to his side when there was only static. Suddenly there was a whisper, a soft hiss in the corner of the room and he spun on his heel with his weapon raised, aimed at a bloodied mattress on the far side of the small room.

Kvaz looked at a bloodied ground, his eyes following the trail to the underside of a small bed positioned at the wall in front of a door. He approached it slowly, dropping onto one knee and then lifting the mattress up, recoiling at the terrible sight. A grey figure shuddered and wide eyes attached small face of a Sangheili infant stared at him. The child wheezed weakly, the wet chest rising subtly upwards, while at the base of the abdomen blood trickled down to the floor.

"Where--where is father?" The child asked shakily, the small arms pulled into its chest.

Kvaz said nothing, his eyes filling with tears and he shook his head, "Gods--no, no, it isn't right."

"W-where is my father? Tell me." The rasped again, so weakly the words almost evaporated as they slid between the cold lips. Kvaz looked down at the child, lowering his head.

"Where--where is my father?" The child asked again, his eyes transfixed on the commander. "Where is father? Where is my father?"

"I--I don't know." Kvaz answered and he closed his eyes, sighing.

The boy asked him over, and over and Kvaz turned away, then set the mattress back down, and quickly backed away from the bed as small grey hands extended underneath. The eyes penetrated into his own, glimmering from underneath of the bed: but the face, so innocent, twisted into a grotesque atrocity and the child let out a loud, sudden snarl. Kvaz had stepped backwards with his weapon raised as the infant began crawling forwards, until the commander was in the room behind him; he shut the door immediately, locking it and closing his eyes. The wheezing persisted; the pounding of his heart began to bang against brain in unison with the rhythmic clawing of the infant at the metal door.

"FATHER!" The child's voiced called out from behind the door, claws scraping along the metal siding, "WHERE IS HE!?"

The commander's mandibles quivered and he quickly locked the door, barricading it with a large dresser and heavy chair that he dragged from across the room. Kvaz backed away from the door, slowly, sitting down on the edge of the bed as he listened to the child's voice fade into the misleading whimper--and then, it began.

Thump! Thump! Scratch! Thump. . .

Kvaz took off his helmet as he stared at the door, for many minutes transfixed and waiting, waiting for something else to attack him. However, nothing came, comforting at least was the fact that the child had alarmed nothing. Kvaz leaned his head against the wall, removing his helmet and placing it on the desk next to him he glanced at his bloody leg, resting his hand against it. He hissed as it surged with fresh pain, ripping away at the thin sheet on the bed with claws and fastened a tourniquet around it, tying it tightly with a stifled groan. Kvaz took his wrist up to his mouth again, taking in a deep breath, "This is Commander Kvaz 'Alakavee--" He whispered into his wrist for the final time that day. "My brothers--please, someone, say something."

Scraaaaaatch! Thump! Thump! The child persisted again outside, his cries growing weaker as the small body struggled to keep up; Kvaz gripped his fist as the loud, metallic scrapes severed his brain; every agonizing second a harrow to his patience. He snarled, gripping his fists harder and rested on his rear, his weapon resting on his lap, and his eyes glued to the door.