Solid Ground
1. White Noise
Pain. Burning, biting, tearing into his chest. There was nothing. A void where his mind should be, screeching noises as flashes of light buzzed above his head. His name, where he was, what was happening - all that was left was pain. Blood pounded in his ears, glazed eyes watching hands grasp loosely in the dirt.
His hands. They were covered, armored by a complex and articulated material. Non-porous ballistic cloth. Systems Alliance kinetic and environmental protection hard suit, marine standard. Kinetic barriers offline due to sustained enemy fire. He hissed again as pain shot through his head, answers burning their way into his skull.
He shook his head. He was in danger, faint bursts of movement twitching at the edge of his vision warning him of the oncoming hostiles. By his side was a slate grey rectangle, a weapon he knew for some reason. His hands automatically reached for a handle he hadn't known was there, fingers wrapping around it with well-practiced ease. The sides of the rectangle unfolded and clicked into place with a sudden hiss. Lancer class mass accelerated assault rifle, manufactured by Hahne-Kedar. Then he was twisting to the side, the instincts ingrained into his body forcing him to move - looking back as the place where had been lying disintegrated in a shower of debris and burnt ozone.
Less than four seconds had passed since he had first opened his eyes. He had to move. With a grunt he stumbled to his feet, tripping, sliding against the wet earth, breath rasping inside his helmet. There was shouting behind him, low barking orders that buzzed and fizzled inside his helmet in a tinny brass. Fire team. Friendlies. His hands quickly swung his rifle into position, tracking the movement of the hostiles even as he retreated.
Two low hovering turrets were sweeping through the treeline, phasic-wrapped slugs whistling from their barrels. Robotic. Smooth lines and curves. Geth flying units. He ducked, rounds whistling over his head. More shouting, now small rapid pops coming from behind and to his right. The shields of one of the turrets went down, a buzzing screech echoing throughout the clearing. Find cover to allow shields to regenerate. Provide covering fire to allow the fire team to advance. Maintain all efforts on taking down the unshielded hostile.
He found himself obeying these orders, quickly kneeling behind a waist-high outcrop of rock, his rifle buzzing beneath his fingertips as he opened fire. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of his allies, two Alliance marines wearing the same black armor he did. One reached out to the unshielded geth with a sudden movement, a glowing open hand that quickly closed into a tight fist. Shining a bright blurring blue, the turret crumpled in on itself in a loud grinding crunch before falling to the ground.
Immediately he switched his fire to the other synthetic, however the fire team was still some twenty meters behind him when the turret began to move forward. The geth's threat assessment protocols now apparently designated the biotic as its priority target. Phasic slugs slammed into the ground near the pair, their remaining cover rapidly disintegrating under the sustained barrage. In only a few short moments the rock was gone.
Suddenly, a low hum filled the air around his body. His armor's built-in kinetic barriers came back online with a flash, the flickering shield glowing a light blue. Based off of what he had seen, the shield would be good for only one or two hits. He looked back to the pair and gave a nod. Behind the biotic, the other marine gave a hand signal, which he again knew meant to begin a flanking maneuver.
With a silent count he leapt up, rushing to the left of the turret as the marine behind him went right. Phasic shots went wild as the geth strained to keep its opposition pinned down. Together they moved from cover to cover, keeping sustained fire at hand as the biotic providing artillery support. The turret's shields finally went down with a crash, opening it up for the effects of a devastating biotic shockwave. The geth gave one final ear-piercing screech before falling limply to the ground.
He took a breath. One minute twenty two second since he woke up. Even through the adrenalin, he could feel his chest burning, red hot shards of pain stabbing into his stomach now that the battle was over. He lent up against a nearby rock. The air seemed to twist around him in sudden lurching movements. Then he was on the ground, his throat burning as blood and vomit began to fill his helmet.
His arms and legs gave out beneath him, hands twitching as he desperately tried to reach the clasps that held his head gear in place.
"Jenkins. Shit, Jenkins! Stay with me!" He felt his body being flipped over, firm hands forcing him on his side. His helmet was torn off and he could breathe again. Shuddering gasps. Two hands compressed against the screaming pain in his side, two green eyes glancing down at him. Commander Elena Shepard, N7. Mission. Eden Prime. The Normandy. The commander turned, "Alenko, suit check now! Activate his medi-gel. The automatic system must be offline."
His head lulled back. Corporal Richard L. Jenkins of the Systems Alliance Navy, born Eden Prime. Is that who he was? He still couldn't remember. Pain. He blinked slowly, trying to remain awake.
Thebiotic, Lt. Kaidan Alenko, maneuvered a omni-tool gauntlet over the broken ceramic plating of his hardsuit, linking with its systems. "Activating medi-gel systems now." With a small twist of his hand, the omni-tool's screen glowed white.
Jenkins gasped as what felt like a torrent of icy cool liquid flowed over his chest, the pain suddenly easing. His fire-team looked down at him with concern. What was he supposed to say in this position? "Sorry... sorry ma'am. My fault." That sounded right.
Alenko shook his head as he began monitoring the glowing screen on his wrist. "Commander, according to these readings, the geth slugs just slammed straight through his chest piece. They tore past his kinetic barrier, only slowing by a fraction. A single bad hit could put us down. If it's like this all over the colony..."
Jenkins could hear the commander's teeth grinding. "Then we need to get moving. What's Jenkins' status?"
"With immediate treatment, the wounds have a small chance of being fatal. Without it, I would give him seventy-five percent chance." Kaidan frowned. "It looks like another shot buzzed right past his frontal lobe. Neural medi-gel controls must have fried when it did so, and it shut down did most of the passive systems. They're rebooting now." Shaking his head, he said, "It's amazing that Jenkins is still alive, much less conscious, without it. He was acting under pure adrenalin."
"He's dead weight to us." The commander's voice seemed to buzz in his ear. "Normandy, chance of immediate extraction for Jenkins?"
Another tinny voice spoke. "Negative, commander. It'll take me about 10 minutes before I can get her back in position. The geth brought a big toy ship with them and I'm having to fly low to avoid being pinged."
Jenkins pushed himself up against the rock behind him. The fields in the distance were burning. A decision. A binary. A choice had to be made. He breathed in and out, then said, "Commander, put a rifle in my hands and I'll shoot. Either leave me here or let me fight. If we don't move, Eden Prime will die."
He could feel Commander Shepard looking him up and down, her eyes like flint. "Let's move then, Jenkins."
[] Leave Jenkins - [X] Let Jenkins Fight
+5 Renegade Points