John holstered his weapons, running systems checks as he contacted Wrex.<br/><br/>'Overlord, Overlord, this is Saber. Weapons facility secure.'<br/><br/>Wrex's voice came back laced with static. Even with Exalted-grade comms, Tuchanka's atmospherics and heavy mineral deposits messed with signals. 'Overlord to Saber, we hear you. I'm sending a platoon of shock troopers to relieve you.'<br/><br/>'Roger that, Wrex. I'm leaving part of my team to hold the fort until your guys get here. The rest of my team is needed somewhere else.'<br/><br/>'Solid copy, Saber. Overlord out.'<br/><br/>John switched to the squad band. 'One to team. Mission complete. Wrex is sending some guys over to take over the base's defenses. Two, Five, we're moving on to the Turian crash site. Three, Four, you're staying here until Wrex's troops arrive.'<br/><br/>Czevak and 042 relayed affirmative responses. Bau, however, had something else on his mind.<br/><br/>'Commander, you may want to see this.'<br/><br/>John raised an eyebrow and picked his way through the rubble, heading for Bau's sensor signature. He and Esone were looking up at some manner of message, a lattice of wires that lined up to form a warning. It was generic doomsaying, a parting taunt from the other hostile Exalt. John gave Bau a look. The Salarian shook his head. The enemy Exalt had already fled the battlefield.<br/><br/>'Alright, what am I looking at here?'<br/><br/>Bau activated his omni-tool, running a scan and duplicating the readout for John to see. It was necromancy, foul and horrific, the message written in blood tainted by Reaper-touched Essence. Judging by the corpses impaled to the walls, it seemed like at least part of the blood had been drawn from the Cerberus dead. John shook his head, feeling his bile rise at both the stench that wafted through his filters and the sheer wrongness of this act.<br/><br/>'What can we do about cleaning this up?'<br/><br/>'Should be relatively simple,' Bau said. 'I'll mark the site and work on something while you're busy with the Turians.'<br/><br/>John nodded and stepped back out into the courtyard, activating a locator beacon to call the<span style="font-style: italic">Midway</span>for pickup.<br/><br/>'Joyeuse, how's armor integrity? Can we hold?'<br/><br/>There was a brief pause. 'We're within mission-capable parameters. I'd love some time for proper repairs, since you can't seem to stop throwing yourself at the enemy's blades, but a bit of spot repairs should be sufficient. Permission to access omni-gel reserves?'<br/><br/>'Granted. Might as well. We don't know what could be on the other side.'<br/><br/>The<span style="font-style: italic">Midway</span>darted overhead, her silhouette casting a shadow on the sun-baked courtyard as her bay doors opened.  Two of the ship's marines took their places at the ramp, weapons raised to cover the team's exit.<br/><br/>'Okay, let's be honest,' Joyeuse said, 'it's almost always Exalted, the current cycle's obligatory turncoats, and/or more Reaper forces.'<br/><br/>'Yeah, probably. But hey, can't a guy hope for some variety? Maybe we'll be greeted by a pile of nubile young women who don't want to kill us.'<br/><br/>'Sure,' Joyeuse snarked, 'and instead of wanting to kill us, they'll just want to convert us.'<br/><br/>'You're a glass half-empty sort of AI, aren't you?'<br/><br/>'More like glass half-husked and singing the Reapers' praises. I've seen some shit, Chief.'