The Reaper lays, broken upon the battlefield. Parts of its collapsed hull emit black smoke. All but one of its many red eyes are silent and dim, several burst and leaking blue, glowing liquid on the grass. It struggles to one long, spiked leg. And then it collapses, the metal groaning in time with the Reaper's own.
Focused Expedient Seeker has fallen. As Jane Shepard approaches it, however, she cannot shake the feeling that it is not yet dead.
"Pria." A barely audible click in her armor. "Give me a status report."
Silence, from her overly critical godly companion. Almost as if in response, almost as if baiting her, a section of Seeker's hull opens, to reveal a doorway just big enough for her.
No, scratch that. It's definitely baiting her. "I'm going to guess that if I want to kill it, the...core? It's inside there."
She turns to find her crew assembled in front of her. Normally, the prospect of walking inside a Reaper, into possible, more than likely death, would be something that would give most people pause. She sees none of that hesitation on them. Instead, she just extends a hand, and catches the rifle that Vega tosses to her.
"Saddle up. We have no idea what's in there. Three man squads and cover each other's backs." She checks the thermal clip, rolling her neck. "Let's kill a Reaper."
She walks in, silent, taking the lead. Even before this, even before all...this...this is what she did. Lead from the front. Acted as the tip of the spear, the blade of the sword. She went in first, hoping on her barriers and her training to save her if it were a trap. And this is no different. Into an abyss, with what she brings with her the only defense she has.
For a brief moment, as the darkness overtakes them, the flesh of the Reaper becoming something...else...she sees something. She feels warmth on her face, feels exhilaration not her own. Feels relief, and triumph at the same time, standing on a massive, grand platform before...something. Something she has no words to describe.
A great roiling mass before her, before the others. It shrinks, it shudders. It begins to coalesce into something. Something smaller. Something they can comprehend, put into words. Before two feet lower themselves upon the stage before them, and he stands as equal, extending four arms to their cheers.
And Jane steps forward, into something wondrous. Something massive. Something far, far bigger than the Reaper on the outside.
By entire measures of magnitude. What should be six hundred meters instead disappears into the horizon. What should be a simple interior of a ship becomes a great factory of infinite arms. Equally infinite assembly lines curve and spiral into the vanishing point, where liquid shapes are pounded and poured into drone form.
The uncountable machines filled every space and step. Working and churning in perfect step. But the noise was nothing. But silence. Which cracked their faceplates. But then they realized that the noise was absolute, deafening to the point where they could not hear it. Save for
The tone
Of violins.
"Welcome," Pria says, despite the noise, somehow, "To the Infinite Factory. We shouldn't be here."