~ The Beacon ~


We head back through the space-port, searching the platforms

Though the beacon must surely have long since been borne

Away in the hands of the marauding Geth

Must surely now be in that black hulk of death.

And yet, on a deck, a tall pillar stands,

As if, untouched by enemy hands,

It sits unhurt, and waiting for us,

Humming and greenly luminous.

It is the beacon. Williams confirms it

But she is puzzled, it didn't emit

A light or a sound when it was first found.

Before it sat quiet and still on the ground.

Like polar aurora, pulsing, singing

The light dances up its cone, emblazoning

Dark steel with flickering green, mesmerizing.

The sound seems to grow, a low murmuring.

I shrug, turn away, and open my com,

To call to the Captain that all is now calm.

Alenko still watches as I pass by,

Strong curiosity in his brown eyes.

The thing is lovely, strange, and old.

For this, he has fought and Jenkins lies cold.

I contact the ship, get Joker on-line,

Tell him the beacon still seems to be fine.

Movement catches my notice-

'Alenko!'

He struggles as though in a strong under-tow.

It's dragging him towards the glimmering beacon

Seizing him fiercely, he seems to be weakened.

Over the deck, towards the beacon, toward him

I dash and I shout, the light has grown dim.

His planted heels slip and his hands find no grip.

The humming grows louder. His booted feet trip.

I leap and I grasp him. The beacon grasps me.

A moment I wrangle, then hurl him free.

He falls safe to the deck, crumples down to the ground.

But the beacon still drags me, it twists me around.

Glimmering, shimmering – it won't let go.

My feet leave the ground, I seem to be falling

Darkening, thundering – cruel shrieks of woe

Though them I hear my two comrades calling:

'Shepard!'

He cries. She shouts:

'Lieutenant! No!'

The sounds of their struggle fade from my ears.

Sights fill my eyes like the shooting of spears.

Fire and darkness. Silence and screams.

Foreign eyes sparkless. Death swarms in reams.

Shattering, blackening, gathering dark.

Light flickers feeble, crush of the spark.

Faltering, smouldering, perishing, gone.

Raging untrammelled. Dark steals the dawn.

Dimly I know that I'm still in the air

Above a space dock on an evening fair.

But this blast seems quite real, not like before.

I'm thrown to the deck and I know no more


The Tale of Rosamund Shepard will be continued in

'One Falls another Rises'