Addendum 5728-A:
The following is a detailed timeline of events leading up to Incident 5728-A & B according to UIU documentation, oral history on the part of SCP-5728-2 and Foundation Archives from the period.
History of SCP-5728 Prior to Incident 5728-A:
SCP-5728-2 originated from the Amur region of Siberia. Then known as the Church of Oastrikyo, they were hunted and driven away by Tsarist forces in 1815, forcing them to flee to the coast.
Upon arriving, the Church encountered another Sarkic sect. Cultural differences prevented integration, so instead, the Church was provided with transportation to Mexico in order to escape what they saw as 'Eurasian Mekhanite influence'. Upon arriving on the Mexican coast, the Church travelled north to modern-day Nye County, Nevada and settled into the town of Arlingpool.
The members of the Church of Oastrikyo quickly established themselves, making use of Sarkic rituals in order to create suitable farmland and to locate sources of freshwater. Within a year the Church of Oastrikyo, which had since renamed itself to the Church of the Scorched Earth in reference to their new desert surroundings, had created a self-sufficient society.
The first contact between the Church of the Scorched Earth and the U.S. Government occurred on the 30th September 1922, when a squad of U.S. Army Riflemen was sent to investigate reports of a 'commune in the middle of Nevada'. They were immediately attacked by a collection of SK-BIO Type 003 & 002 organisms created to defend the perimeter of the town, with only one of them managing to escape. This sole survivor was given over to the UIU before the Foundation could respond. Below is an account of the Church's first contact, taken from SCP-5728-2's diary.
Our village was attacked. Outsiders. We have been able to keep ourselves well isolated and hidden, but it has become clear that our current approach may not be sustainable forever.
Four men found us. Our guardians and defences were able to kill all but one who unfortunately got away on horseback. They were armed with weaponry unfamiliar to us, but thankfully they were of little effect against our guardians. Despite this, their arrival was a serious cause for concern.
An emergency meeting between myself and the other Karcists was called into session. After much deliberation, we decided that moving would be impossible. Not this time. We will stay and protect ourselves from the approaching Mekhanite incursion. I will sacrifice myself if it is to ensure that our people survive these upcoming days.
Following this encounter, the United States government sent an envoy to meet with the Church, with the goal of establishing a 'mutual agreement of cooperation and trust'. The 'Treaty of Nevada' was signed and ratified by both parties on 19th May 1924.
It was at this time that Foundation agents embedded in the US government became aware of the Arlingpool sect's existence, though all efforts to establish containment were blocked by the UIU & the American government. Protests by the Foundation over the use of anomalous properties rather than their containment were ignored by the US government.
Below is an account from the diary of UIU Agent Daniel Blake, from his first arrival at Arlingpool.
I just got reassigned to what I thought would be the ass-end of nowhere. I was right; nothing but desert for miles, 'Church of the Scorched Earth' was right.
There are three of us, including myself, the other two being Johnathan Gordon and James Carr. They seem like decent people, though largely uninterested in the cultists. They spend most of their time in the little outpost we were provided.
I got to give these cult guys some credit. They are just unbelievable! There are sections in the eastern part of town, where the ground will be dried up desert one second but then suddenly, fertile soil and farmland with enough crops to feed everyone here tenfold. Compare that to the area surrounding the town, the ground is so dry it sucks up moisture like a sponge. I'm sure I could cook some eggs on the ground too. Maybe we could ask for some tips to deal with the Dust Bowls?
Hell, they're even resilient themselves. I mean, one of the locals tripped and cracked his skull open. I rushed over to check on them, ready to grab a first aid kit, but the wound just sealed up. I swear I saw some kind of worms inside him fixing it, but it was remarkable. By no means the weirdest thing I had ever seen, but it was noteworthy nonetheless.
Despite everything though, can't say I'd want to live like this. They have no telegrams, no advanced farming or building methods. The buildings they live in look okay enough to me, but sometimes I swear I see them move. And whatever it is they use it as livestock…I don't know what they are. I asked about their cows a few hours after I first arrived, the adults refused to show me but the kids snuck me over to their farmland. They were…it was like someone was twisted and turned in every conceivable and non-conceivable way and stuck them together with other people in the same boat. I had to run back to where we were staying and throw up in a bucket. I can handle the worms and the bigotry but I cannot handle that THING! But I stayed cool, my job is to maintain good relations not criticise their lifestyle. As long as I don't go over to that part of town I should be fine.
Thought about requesting a transfer, but that'd be the third one this month. I know I'm not some rich kid with a silver spoon up my [EXPLETIVE EXPUNGED] but I don't think I'm too bad at my job. Probably why they sent me to the middle of nowhere. When we're not out making sure the locals aren't doing anything we just sit in the outpost with nothing to do. I've been thinking of trying to learn sleight of hand. Always been meaning to.
While I have made note of Gordon and Carr's lack of interest, the locals are outright resentful towards us. They must be pretty closed off, when I walked around the town to get a lay of the land, they look at me and scoff. A couple even spat at me and mumbled in whatever language it is they speak, no doubt saying insults. Either the higher-ups thought learning their language was unimportant, or they just don't want us learning all their insults. They seem especially annoyed by the telegram and phone we've got set up for communication with the higher-ups. They often glare at it; evidently, they don't like long-range comms. The other two tend to keep them out of sight. They're worried the locals will steal them and destroy them. I'm thinking of seeing if we could replace them with carrier pigeons and one of those new radios, though for emergencies only.
The silver lining is, the kids seem fine with me. They just sort of stare at me instead of spitting insults. I went over to introduce myself and most of them either run away or were ushered away by their parents. Only one of them gave me the chance to give an introduction. Vasily, he seems nice enough. Asks me about the world: I've told him what I can, though I feel the gaze of his father whenever I do. Apparently, his father is like the head surgeon or something along those lines. Part of a council of 'Karcists' who run this place.
Well, I've certainly got my work cut out for me. I intend to send that request later in the week. Want to settle in first.
Agent Daniel Blake, 20th September 1929
Following his arrival, Agent Daniel Blake attempted to further improve relations between the Sarkic population and the UIU. This was found to be successful, as shown below in the following entry of SCP-5728-2's diary.
As part of the treaty we signed, the Americans have sent agents from their 'Unusual Incidents Unit.' The 'UIU' agents continue to observe us, with little care for our customs. When we sleep they play their voice producing Mekhanite contraptions, 'Radios' they call them. With little care for our way of life, they describe us as barbarians and savages, never mind the fact that our culture has been around long before they were. Their presence alone continues to insult us.
With one notable exception. One of the three agents stationed here, Blake, is not like the rest of his team. He has shown an interest in our customs, and a desire to respect them. He has even approached me in the hope of learning about our leadership and government.
He seemed…confused and, sometimes, disgusted at our practices. But, unlike other agents who remained here, he did not attempt to 'correct' our culture.
Instead, he explained that while he does not agree with some aspects of our culture he understands these are millennia-old traditions and will not be changed by one man whose only been here for a few weeks. For that, he must be commended.
He also took note of our distaste towards their 'communication devices'. He offered to try and get the larger ones removed and replaced with carrier pigeons and a radio, but for emergencies only. Ideally, no radios would be here either, but it seemed like a fair trade.
I expected this to be an empty promise, but within a week…the telegram and phone lines were gone. Carrier pigeons were used as promised, he truly was a man of his word.
Perhaps he is better than the others.
Over the next few years, cooperation between the Arlingpool Sect & the U.S. government proved to be vital for the country. The aid of the Arlingpool Sect helped advance discoveries to help the treatment of Malaria and Smallpox amongst other diseases. Foundation efforts to halt this trade and establish official containment were blocked by the US government, who warned the Foundation against 'interfering in the internal affairs of the United States and her allies.'
Incident 5728-A:
On the 15th of December, 1941, after the attack on Pearl Harbor, the U.S. military called for the younger population of Arlingpool, those aged between 21-35, to aid them in the nation's involvement in World War 2. Despite objections from the Church's Karcists, they ultimately allowed this to occur due to Article 7 of the Treaty of Nevada.
Despite being closely guarded and mainly placed in medical roles, all drafted Arlingpool inhabitants were listed as KIA by 1944. Below is an extract from the diary of Agent Blake describing the reaction to this news by the inhabitants of Arlingpool.
I'd just received word from the higher-ups, about the locals who we'd sent off to war. They are dead. Every. Single. One.
I racked my brain for something to compare it to. The closest my mind came was when my old man died, but I don't think even that comes close to this.
As I stood on that podium, as the town's population gathered around me, I felt like they were going to lynch me. But it was better they heard it from me, rather than some priest from a faith they did not believe in.
I said to them, "I have just received news of those of your children who were sent to the front."
They all looked hopeful.
I wished I had better news. "It is my…unfortunate duty to inform you, that they have been listed as Killed in Action."
At that moment, I could see their eyes water and their lips quiver. Many of the women fell to their knees. Weeping and screaming, I watched as young children who had barely seen death stood traumatised and in shock. And the men, those who were not comforting their families, looked up at me and our outpost in anger, tears of rage on their faces. They wanted to lynch me, or worse, I could tell. I wanted to tell them that their bodies would arrive soon to be buried, but my mind was racing far too much.
All I could do was apologise, I wish I could do more but…there is nothing. I'm sorry.
Then Nikita came up to me directly, he asked me to tell him his son was dead. Not that he was killed in action or kicked the bucket or to use any other euphemism. So I did, I said to him 'your son is dead.' At his insistence, I told him the details but I could tell it was just making him angrier. But I felt obliged to, I was the 'good foreigner, I could not break their trust with lies. He chastised me for sending his son to die, calling me a traitor. His eyes had a thousand lifetimes of heartbreak. I told him that I was not the one who gave the order, I did not want anyone to die. I wished they could come home, but I could not bring myself to lie to them. We argued for what felt like hours, he called me out for shifting the blame and trying to claim honesty made up for his son. Blows were exchanged. I lost.
All I can do now is wait, and hope things get better.
Agent Daniel Blake, 12th September 1945
Following this, relations between the U.S. Government and inhabitants soured, with the agents present being harassed and stalked. This resulted in the vandalism of the UIU outpost with Anti-American slogans and propaganda.
This culminated in an incident on the 20th December 1946 when UIU agent Johnathan Gordon was assaulted by a Cult Member. Agent James Carr, in an effort to aid agent Gordon, fired a warning shot at the Cult Member but accidentally hit a bystander. Though the shot was non-lethal, a riot ensued which was only halted due to intervention by Agent Blake.
On the 25th December 1946, the U.S. Government lost contact with the UIU agents present and the next day every single carrier pigeon stationed there was released and flew to a military communication point. None of them had any messages attached. At this time, a UIU patrol was sent to investigate the communications blackout. On the way there, the patrol encountered Agent Daniel Blake, who had been walking through the desert for the past two days. Foundation aid was once again denied. Below is an extract from Agent Blake's post-mission debrief.
Interviewed: Agent Daniel Blake
Interviewer: Agent Alexander Stevenson
Foreword: The following interview occurred after Agent Blake was picked up by the passing UIU Patrol and functioned as his post-mission debrief.
<Begin Log>
Agent Stevenson: So, Agent, care to explain exactly why you didn't respond to our carrier pigeons?
Agent Blake: We…we were attacked.
Agent Stevenson: By whom?
Agent Blake: The locals.
Agent Stevenson: What happened?
Agent Blake: I…It was Christmas day. We'd been celebrating a merry Christmas, the other two Agents had been drinking, though I wasn't allowed. I'd been showing off some sleight of hand I'd learn, swapping out pens for pencils that kind of thing before I was told to go and be a look out. One of us had to be sober in order to keep watch. Though neither of them got properly drunk either but better safe than sorry I suppose. Which I did, I stayed outside and kept an eye out…but the whole town was…completely silent.
Agent Stevenson: So then what happened?
Agent Blake: I heard a noise from inside, like a woosh. I got up and went inside, and then…they were dead. Their throats had been slit. They weren't even able to call for help.
Agent Stevenson: Wait, their throats were slit? By who?
Agent Blake: Not who. What. The locals had sent these…creatures, two of them, they were covered in bones and had these sharp blades on their hands. Like something out of a horror comic.
Agent Stevenson: You hadn't seen these creatures before?
Agent Blake: Well…no we'd seen them, but never up close and only glimpses of them. And never in action. They were called 'Guardians', they kept the town safe. But they'd never gotten anywhere close to us before, they always stayed near the perimeter of the town's edge.
Agent Stevenson: I'm sorry that you had to see that. But, how did you survive?
Agent Blake: When I saw them, they just looked at me…and I ran. When I went outside, everyone in the town was gathered around me. Like a lynch mob…I was sure I was going to die. But…they didn't kill me. One of the higher-ups, Nikita Lebedev, he…he let me leave. Told me I was a good man, so he gave me all the food and water I'd need and sent me on my way. Then you found me.
Agent Stevenson: Alright, anything else to add before we continue?
Agent Blake: One last thing, I did ask them if there was anything I could give them in order to return things back to the way they were. To prevent anyone from fighting.
Agent Stevenson: And? What did they say?
Agent Blake: 'Your President's head on a spike.'
<End Log>
Agent Blake was placed on leave and the UIU immediately requested military intervention against Arlingpool's population. On the 2nd of January 1947, this request was granted and the 33rd Infantry Division was sent to quell the initial uprising. This marked the beginning of Incident-5728-A, known in UIU Documentation as the Sarkic Uprising of 1947. From this point, until Incident 5728-B, all offers of Foundation aid were declined and direct intervention was not attempted in order to maintain good relations with the US government.
Between the request for intervention and the arrival of the first military forces, the inhabitants of Arlingpool managed to expand their control to the border of the exclusion zone. Only the arrival of U.S. Army forces prevented further expansion. While initially able to make use of their technological superiority to secure several victories against Arlingpool's inhabitants, the eventual deployment of SK BIO organisms halted the Military's advance. The U.S. Army, even with UIU support and advisors, was unable to effectively combat the SK BIO Organisms.
The military's intervention eventually grew into a stalemate, with the town's inhabitants able to prevent significant military advances with the SK BIO organisms. Meanwhile, the military made use of incendiary and high explosive weapons to cause significant damage to the SK BIO Organisms.
Incident 5728-B:
On the 20th January 1951, with the US military unable to make effective gains against the Arlingpool Sect, the US government attempted to propose a Status Quo peace. Below is the only known account of the meeting's outcome and the final known document from Agent Blake. Irrelevant information has been expunged for brevity.
Well…this is it. My last will and testament, if you can even call it that.
Five of us were sent to try and negotiate with the Karcists; me, an agent, two soldiers and some senator type who wanted to handle the diplomacy. He offered a status quo peace, go back to when times were good.
"And if we refused?" One of them asked.
"Then you will face swift and utter destruction."
Before I could even get a word in, it was over. With a single nod, it all went to shit. The escorts were killed by their foot soldiers, the other agent and the diplomat were dragged off. Their screaming stopped as suddenly as it started. I dare not imagine what happened to them.
Then the eyes of the Karcists fell upon me. I've never been so scared in my life, I was about to beg for my life when I heard Nikita speak.
"You are not like them, Daniel, you are kind to our people. But, you may not leave. Instead, you will serve Ion."
He gestured to the paper and pen I am currently using and offered to let me write down my last words. A final letter to my family. He promised me that the 'procedure' will not hurt, I dared not ask what would happen if I refused. I thought about running but I didn't want to see where the ones they took went. Besides…I'd always been good at Nikita as best as possible. Got to count for something right? But I suppose this all I have. So here goes nothing.
[EXPUNGED FOR BREVITY]
For what it's worth I finally managed to get good at that sleight of hand stuff at last though. Nikita seemed to find it amusing. I wish his boy could have seen it.
So, this is it. When I've finished writing on this page, it's over for me. I wish I could have done better.
This is Daniel Blake, goodbye.
Following the loss of communication with the diplomatic party, the United States Government called off any further diplomatic efforts and ordered all American forces to withdraw.
On the 27th of January 1951, a 1 kiloton nuclear bomb was dropped and detonated on Arlingpool under the guise of a nuclear test. The town and an estimated 98% of its population were killed, with the remaining population surviving due to the use of Sarkic protection rituals. Most of the remaining SK Type Organisms were killed by US Army forces sent in to clear out the area. Containment was formally handed over to the Foundation on 14th February 1951. Below is the last intact entry of SCP-5728-2's journal.
It's over now. The Americans dropped their ultimate weapon, its blinding light forced us to avert our gaze. From a brief moment, we believed that our prayers have been answered, that Ion had come to smite these invaders from our lands. But instead, our prayers were responded to with destruction, surely only the Mekhanites would be capable of such an act. But no, it may have spawned from a device of metal, but it was devised by no followers of that Broken God.
Few of us have survived, fewer still are in any condition to move. When I saw my home engulfed in fire and my friends annihilated, I had perhaps the first moment of clarity in a long time. At last, I saw what our crusade has brought. My son would turn his back in shame.
We pleaded with them, begging for help, an armistice, anything. But our olive branches of peace were ignored. As we travel we have yet to encounter other soldiers. Whether we managed to sneak past them or they have simply left us to die I am not sure. Even as I write this, our numbers dwindle, I dare not count how many are left for I know it would be outdated within hours. The Akuloth work tirelessly, but they can only delay our demise. Only one Guardian is left, escorting us, but we are thankful for his watchful presence.
I wonder why I still survive even as my brothers and sisters fall around me. Perhaps I have some purpose yet fulfilled. I will know in time.
Following this, containment of any SK-BIO organisms was transferred to the Foundation. The UIU, following this significant failure, lost a significant proportion of its funding and suffered a major blow to its credibility.
Containment procedures have been updated in response to this change.
