Exigency: The Old Guard

Serana's sword snaps back, nearly jarring from her hands. Only Wilhelm's strike succeeds in causing the phase gate any kind of damage: sickly purple light flashes from the slice in its plating. The machine makes a low, mournful sound. Pudge can tell that the arrival has been delayed but not yet stopped.

Serana's sword shears off one of the device's prongs. It reverberates, buzzing angrily, a gout of purple flame licking from the opening and sending glowing motes swirling throughout the chamber.

The air feels thicker and it's hard to concentrate. The gate is close to a catastrophic malfunction.

The phase gate rumbles continuously, the floor pulsing like a living thing. Mercifully a pod pulls into the departure bay and the party wastes no time in clambering on to it, holding on tight as Pudge sends the unit hurtling back to surface level.

Explosion after explosion sounds from below. Plates and cables and miscellaneous chunks of machinery fall loose from the sides of the shaft and tumble into the depths. Flashes of light punctuate each and every detonation. By the time the pod reaches the upper levels the reaction is still ongoing, the blasts still audible, their reverberations still felt underfoot despite the distance.

The main chamber hardly offers reassurance. It's a mess of blood and scrap metal. Everything, from the pods themselves to innocuous railings and walkways, has been broken and battered beyond recognition. Armani is nowhere to be seen. And the tunnel out...

Is packed with bodies. Dozens of Mercenaries lie mangled and maimed. An armoured personnel carrier partially blocks the exit, split down the middle.

One Merc still breathes, although from the looks of things it hurts him to do so. The blood and ash makes it impossible to tell whether his uniform is that of a loyalist or rogue. He's clutching his side and staring into the distance, muttering over and over to himself:

"What is he?"

The Merc nods. He doesn't look at Serana, he's still staring ahead. "We intercepted their comm, heard that Pirle had ordered squadrons to advance on the Vault site." He takes a deep, ragged breath. "So we headed here too. Big stand-off. Loyalists and traitors trying to face each other down. We got no idea who's going to fire first, we only know that... that something's going down in the Vault."

Pudge has been doing some communication hacking of his own. It now sounds like Commander Pirle, leader of the rogue Mercenaries, is directing the assault on Ivory Cliff in person.

"Then this... this man, this thing comes out of the tunnel," the wounded Mercenary continues. "Someone starts firing, dunno if it was one of ours or one of theirs, some kid must have been twitchy... and he starts killing us. All of us. With his bare hands..."

There's half a dozen APCs positioned around the Vault entrance, but on closer inspection Serana can see one of them has suffered only superficial damage. It looks like Valon punched a hole through its side and pulled someone out through the gap. It's a hideous mess, yes, but the APC will still function. It's hardly a dropship, but it will certainly reach the Ivory Cliff base faster than a pedestrian.

Something feels wrong about this and Serana places it: this was bait. She knows a trap when she sees one. There are far more dead loyalists on the ground than renegades. Somehow Pirle knew what was going to happen here and deliberately lured her enemies to the site.

Meanwhile, while surveying the carnage, Wilhelm can hear muffled cries from beneath an upturned personnel carrier.

The personnel carrier lies on its side, a beast laid low by some vicious predator. Wilhelm circles round it to seek the source of the sound and finds a woman struggling to free herself.

"Falstaff? What the hell came out of that Vault?"

It's Reave. One of her legs is pinned beneath the overturned APC and one of her eyes is swollen shut.

"I saw the Mercs arrive and I hid myself, waiting, then Armani comes running down the tunnel! She had shrouded herself, the Mercs couldn't see her, but I could sense her and I thought she..." Reave swallows, as if realising what she's saying is ridiculous. "I thought she was coming for me. But she ignores me. She keeps running. And then, well..." She gestures a bruised hand at the APC, as if it's self-explanatory.

"He was some sort of ancient, wasn't he? From before the Schism? God, looking at his mind was like staring at the sun. Armani fled him. They must have fought, and then she fled! That terrifies me." Reave shivers. "So is, uh, the cyborg with you? I can't exactly lift this up myself."

"Did you say Valon? Like the name of the planet? This gets weirder and weirder."

Serana grants Reave just enough time to pull herself free. Her shin and ankle are mangled: there's no chance of her walking on it. She swears and winces. She reaches out to touch the wound and then thinks better of it.

"Thanks. I guess I'm sitting this one out. Although..." Reave's eyes land on the mostly-intact APC that Serana noticed earlier. "I guess I could be your driver, if needed.

"And my psi could certainly help you with your communications. If Pudge needs the assistance, that is."