That Stench

A Sangheili security unit on Installation 02 prepare to conduct a routine clearing operation at Research Tower 0367 ahead of a joint human-Sangheili research team. One of the team's members is secretly haunted by a particular mission from his past.

“…I’ve smelled it before.”

The words echo inside of Hken ‘Rahul’s mind as if they’d only just been spoken. Before him, a massive silvery door looms. Runes inscribed in the language of the Ancient Ones run along its surface, bathed in strobes of crimson light that indicate the door is sealed…for now; beside the door, Rej ‘Ktenam is dutifully at work on the control panel hoping to unlock the entryway.

For a while, no one speaks. The only sound comes from the staccato clacking of Rej’s clawed fingers against the door’s control panel and the light patter of rain falling around them. The smell of the fresh water is sweet, and sentimental, and cleansing to Hken. He breathes the scent in deeply, savoring it. It reminds him of the coast of Yermo, his home.

It fails to cleanse the memory of Threshold, of the gas mine, from his thoughts. Anxiety races through him, despite having cleared a dozen Forerunner installations just like this one over the course of the solar cycle. He was anxious all those times as well.

He tries again to center himself—

“Another waste of time, I predict,” croaks Kul ‘Vulsam, breaking the silence and Hken’s focus. “The whelps would be better suited for such a chore. We should be racing into battle against Brutes, not clearing towers for humans and scientists to dawdle about in. Curse this Ring!”

You know nothing, Hken thinks. These Rings are already cursed.

It is a feeling that tugs at Hken in regards to all Forerunner sites, in fact, not just the Rings. It comes as a side-effect of the hunt for Sesa ‘Refumee—A consequence of his first-hand account of the horrors that such places bear. Now, he cannot look upon any ancient compound of sterling and hardlight without the ominous words of his then-commander creeping up into his mind again.

"That stench… I’ve smelled it before."

He tries to focus on the rain’s scent again. The smell of quiet and comfort and Yermo.

''Sweet. Cleansing. Home. '' It still doesn’t help. The memories of the gas mine are too pungent. The smell of sickness and agony and death followed him from that place. It’s scorched itself into his psyche and festered. It engulfs him even now, wrapped around him like the embrace of a lover or the stranglehold of a demon. It is the unnatural shuffling of contorted corpses, the pained screams of his allies, the death of everything.

''Sweet. Cleansing. Home.

Sickness. Agony. Death.''

Only when the door finally opens will the smell be just a distant memory again. Forerunner facilities, those that are well-maintained, have no smells. They are sterile and cold and pure. Neither foul nor sweet, but secure. Only when that door finally opens, and he is greeted by nothingness will the gas mine fall into the storm once again. That’s worked with every other clearing assignment, Hken knows it will work with this one as well.

Then, a hushed ping whispers through the rain and the strobes of crimson along the argent door transition into azure. Hken grips his plasma rifle a little tighter. Rej ‘Ktenam, still hunched by the door control, looks back to ‘Rahul for orders. The Elite inhales the scent of the rain one last time.

''Sweet. Cleansing. Home.''

“Open it.”

Rej nods, and taps the panel twice. Jets of gas hiss from the door as the pressure equalizes and then, it slides open. A wave passes over him before he even crosses the doorway. The scent of the rain is drowned away in the miasma. Hken can no longer recall its sweetness. His two hearts pound in his chest, and his maw goes dry.

''Sickness. Agony. Death.''

The gas mine, all over again.

Kul ‘Vulsam settles in beside the petrified Hken, his expression contorted by the odor. “By all that is sacred, what is that foul stench?! Have you ever smelled such an odor as this?”

“Yes,” Hken replies impassively. “Yes, I’ve…smelled it before.”