MASS EFFECT: ONE
"Human history is written in a litany of bloodshed…"
~Legion~
LondONEarth
Earth, London - Before Endgame
Define "psychotic."
First glance in the dictionary will read: "relating to, marked by or affected with psychosis."
No shit. But, if you dig a little deeper, try a few other lexicons, you get this: "having a very serious mental illness that makes you act strangely or believe things that are not true."
Eh, that one's a little better, but it still doesn't hit the mark. How about this one? "Intensely upset, anxious or angry; crazy; exhibits extreme emotion or behavior." Hits the mark, but not the bullseye.
Found this one on the extranet: "Psychosis is an abnormal condition of the mind that involves a 'loss of contact with reality.' People experiencing psychosis may exhibit personality changes and thought disorder. Depending on its severity, this may be accompanied by unusual or bizarre behavior, as well as difficulty with social interaction and impairment in carrying out daily life activities."
Everyone of those points touch upon segments of her life, at different moments in time. Being locked in a cage behind a one-way mirror definitely has a way of making one lose contact with reality. Drugged, tortured, made to kill—if that doesn't change your personality or disorder your thoughts, nothing else will.
Hell, maybe there was someone out there who went through worse than what she did growing up; hardened them, made them cold, unfeeling. The galaxy is full of cutthroats, killers, sadists, people who enjoy watching someone burn to death the way regular folk like watching Blasto films. Who knows what those nutbags went through to make them who they are. But there aren't too many out there with as diverse a rap sheet: gangbanger, cultist, pirate, vandal…murderer.
And social interaction? Back in the day, she'd have just as soon shoot you as look at you. Her favorite form of social interaction had absolutely nothing to do with talking. As long as he, or she, knew where to put it.
So yeah, she's unusual. She's bizarre. The tattoos covering every visible space of skin are a testament to it, and to every good or shitty thing that had ever happened to turn her into the unusual, bizarre woman one saw today.
Though, there is one line of thought within that medical definition so big a load of bullshit she could smell it on this side of her timeline: "…impairment in carrying out daily life activities."
Jack, Subject Zero, the Psychotic Biotic, Bitch…whatever you like to call her—if 'daily life activities' include decimating your enemies on the battlefield, she harbored no such impairment.
In fact—ZAP—standing on the rubble of what used to be a gamers' paradise, one of the best arcade houses in South London to hear the tale, Jack blasted back a wave of oncoming husks. Not one of the bastards got back up. No impairment there!
Nevertheless, if one were to stand the old Jack, the one who had escaped the horrors of the Teltin Facility and the subsequent abuse by slavers, next to the person she was today, one might question whether they were the same person. But Jack knew different. The terrified, angry girl still lived inside. Like dirt in a fox's den, she would always be there, but Jack covered her, held her where no one else could ever hurt her.
Running across rubble and bodies, Jack stationed herself on the remains of an arcade game, the kind with a comfy chair you can play skycar races in, and raised her hands. Ahead of her, a troop of salarians took their station behind a crumbled wall in preparation for an attack of cannibals and husks. Easy targets. Still, she brought her biotic powers to bare and raised the barrier to protect the salarians. To either side of her stood two of her best students—Prangley and Rodriguez. They weren't just her students. They were her kids. She protected them, made sure no harm came to them, as she protected her inner kid. She would die to keep them safe.
Yeah, she had changed. She wasn't the same mindless bitch who acted on emotion or upon every whim or wave of thought that came her way. She was still Jack, the Psychotic Biotic, but she was different. And there was a reason for it—one name, Shepard.
Shepard was the one to start the wheels of change in Jack, and when Shepard handed the wheel back, Jack kept it spinning with the help of her students, her kids. Shepard didn't hesitate to take on the Reapers back when nobody cared or believed, and she wasn't hesitating to take them on now that they were overrun. If only for Shepard's sake and the sake of her kids, Jack would be damned before she let the sons-a-bitches win the day. This was their galaxy now!
Ahead, the STG unit handled the wave of cannibals and husks with salarian finesse. Their scorpion pistols did the work one of her shockwaves would have accomplished in seconds, only theirs involved a lot more explosions and gore. The sight of a husk splattering into many tiny pieces had a way of making Jack smile. But husks weren't their only problem.
"Rodriguez! Left!"
Two shielded Marauders, Reaper abominations that used to be turian soldiers, were attempting to outflank them. That left Ensign Rodriguez, a dark-haired woman still wet behind the ears but who continued to prove herself in battle, out in the open. While good with front line attacks, a Marauder's greatest weapon was infiltration, and that's what they were attempting to do. Penetrate their barrier to take out its organic power source—Jack.
Jack saw two ways to take them out in her mind's eyes as she watched the things hopping over debris and charred vehicles, but Rodriguez had frozen. She turned to Jack with wide eyes, her training vanishing in an instant of fear. What she needed was a swift kick in the ass and nobody knew how to do it better than her mentor.
"Don't look at me, dammit!" Jack screamed above the roar of a distant Reaper. "You know what to do. Look those bastards in the eye and show'em who's boss!"
Rodriguez had no time for thought, and as much as Jack wanted to help, she couldn't let go of the barrier, couldn't drop their defenses. Nor would she. They had a mission to accomplish. Rodriguez had to make a decision. Stand there and die in fear, or stand up to her fear and beat its ass into the ground.
"Do it now! Don't think!"
Rodriguez turned. The Marauders were closing in fast. "Hesitation will kill you faster than a bullet," Jack always told them. Thank blind luck or God or whatever, Rodriguez killed her hesitation before it had a chance to kill her. Her omni-tool blinked on, shocking one of the bastards with overload, effectively killing his shields, making him vulnerable. One well-placed sniper shot from one of the STG agents brought it to the ground. The other, Rodriguez warped hard enough to knock it back several feet. Three shots, center mass, pushed it back the rest of the way, burying it behind a heap of rubble.
This time, Rodriguez turned to her with a smile. "I did it!"
No time for congratulations. "Keep your guard up. This ain't over yet!"
"Yes, ma'am!"
The pound of a Reaper's foot shook the ground around them. Jack lost her footing. The barrier lost its effectiveness long enough for a salarian not in cover to take a lethal hit.
"Shit!"
Prangley was by her side in seconds, reconstructing the barrier in her stead. Cocky, this one, but he was also one of her most powerful biotic students and shaping up to be a great leader someday.
"Are you alright, ma'am?" Prangley asked.
Jack shrugged off Rodriguez's efforts to help her up, crying, "Son of a bitch! You see what I'm talking about, Rodriguez. When shit hits the fan, you have to be ready to deal with it, whatever the cost."
Rodriguez sent Prangley a knowing smile. "It's okay, ma'am. Even the most badass of biotics can make mistakes."
"Mistakes, my ass," Jack grumbled.
One of the salarian STG agents approached once the major fire fight had subsided. A few, still in cover, were shooting at unseen enemies not in Jack's view, but the worst of the attack had ended. It wasn't over. Not by a long shot. Reaper attacks came in waves. At least for a little while, they had a chance to catch a breather, get a drink of water before they moved on and the battled continued.
Jack dropped the barrier and eyed the approaching salarian. She had no love of them. Scrawny little guys who couldn't handle a full on assault, but they were mean infiltrators. They knew how to sneak up behind their enemies and slit their throats before they knew the blade was coming. The salarian approaching her was no exception. He was one of the boldest strategists she had ever worked with…except for Shepard, of course.
"Major Kirrahe," she said, straightening her shoulders. "Shit, I'm sorry. The ground beneath me gave way. I lost my footing."
The major raised his three-fingered hand and gave her a dismissive wave. "Don't trouble yourself, Jack. These things happen in battle." He nodded toward the fallen salarian. "Dunok was a fine warrior, but he always had a tendency of breaking cover too early. Thought himself invincible, and he paid for it today with his life. Now, he will not be coming with us to complete the mission."
"Have you heard any news?"
"Last communiqué says they were bunkered down, but taking heavy fire. Their support is weakening."
"We need to get to them."
"Yes and the enemy is throwing everything they have at us, but…rest assured, we will make it with the help of you and your students."
Another salarian ran to Kirrahe's side. "Commander Rentola," Kirrahe announced. "What news?"
Jack had trouble telling the two men apart. Salarians all looked the same to her. They sounded the same. They had soft, curved horns atop their flat heads. Each species had unique differences, of course. She knew that, but the only way she knew to tell these two apart were the raised pebble-like bumps on Kirrahe's amphibious skin. Rentola was smooth-skinned with a gradient coloring of dark brown to tan from the tip of his horns down to his chin. She would never have said it to their face, at least not on the battleground, but in her mind their names were Pebbles and Baby Face.
"The way is clear, Major," Rentola, Kirrahe's second-in-command said.
"Right." Kirrahe nodded once. "Let's move. We've no time to waste."
"Major, what of Dunok?"
Kirrahe spared the fallen soldier one last glance and sigh heavily. "Leave the dead. We make haste to those who are still living. Move out!"
He signaled those remaining, and when the troops followed his lead, Jack and her team fell in line. This was no march. They weren't here to fight. This was a rescue mission. With an emphasis on stealth, they crept through the rubble of South London, past decimated buildings, through what had once been neighborhoods, and parks where children used to play. (Rodriguez stopped long enough to stare at a smoldering teeter-totter before Jack shoved her back into line; though, she couldn't stop her eyes from resting upon it longer than was necessary herself.) They couldn't linger. Somewhere out there, a team had a plan and it was their job to make sure they didn't die in the process.
Problem was, every known tool of the Reapers had the team bogged down, surrounded. The Reaper's indoctrination techniques, though insidious, were damned effective. The sons-a-bitches had somehow learned of the team's plan and were halting their progress, hoping to take them out before the plan could come to fruition. A miniscule rescue team of twelve (well, eleven now), comprised of salarians and human biotics, would be the last thing the bastards would ever expect.
Jack had never been to London. She had heard stories, looked at vids, saw images on personal terminals, but to have seen the city with her own eyes—no. Growing up, she saw only pain and death, mixed with a little bit of the whole galaxy. She'd been all over. She'd even been to Earth once or twice, but London hadn't been on her sight-seeing list. (Besides, one wouldn't have called what she came to Earth to do a vacation. It was business; the business of revenge. Let's leave it at that.) She had no idea what the city looked like before, not really, but the devastation still hit her like a brick to the head. There was nothing left but rubble and corpses. Sure, there were pockets where people tried to survive, but most had fled to less populated areas and left their cities empty for the war to be fought. The initial assault must have been a bloodbath, though.
Her lack of knowledge of London is what kept her in the dark. Jack didn't know how Pebbles managed to find his way through this hell. Those STG types knew their shit, she guessed. Thus, she didn't ask questions. She followed. Unlike her younger sidekicks, insistent upon knowing exactly what the hell they were doing.
"Where the hell are we?" Rodriguez asked ahead of her, skirting quietly around the corner of what used to be an apartment building.
"I'm not sure yet," Prangley answered.
"Well, where are we going?"
"To the rendezvous point."
"Yeah, and where's that?"
Jack prodded with a heavy hand on Prangley's back. "Shut it! Keep moving."
She had the same questions, but a good soldier always knew when to follow orders and when to ask questions. Now was the not the time for questions. Still, when Pebbles led them out of cover, momentarily crossing a street filled with crumbled portions of the apartment buildings next to it, she was taken aback at the sight before her.
Trees!
Trees as green as the day they were planted. Their leaves were coated in a fine layer of ash, but they were green and they were untouched. All save for the iron fencing marking their boundary. In places, the fencing stood, in others it was demolished or gone completely. Pebbles led them through a gap and into the trees. The heady scent of greenery filled her nostrils above the stench of death and burning. Here, life continued to flourish. The question was, for how long?
Their way, marked by concrete paths, cut a trail through the trees and Pebbles led the way through them. He stopped at intervals, holding up his three fingers and then, he would continue. They moved steadily along the marked paths, eleven of them now, eight salarians and three humans, quietly snaking their way through an idyllic paradise while hell waited for them on the other side.
A few minutes in, they came to open water and Kirrahe waved her ahead. Jack, with Prangley and Rodriguez behind her, made her way to Kirrahe's side. Now was the time for questions.
"Where the hell are we?" she asked, paying little attention to the look Rodriguez gave Prangley.
Kirrahe consulted his omni-tool. "A park, better known as Battersea."
"Battersea?" Prangley said. "Then that means we're near the Thames."
"Yes, the river is close."
"You know this place, Prangley?" Jack asked.
He nodded. "I've never been here, but I've studied London." Prangley looked to the salarian major with a hint of worry. "Are we crossing the river?"
"Yes," Kirrahe said after a second or two of studying his charges, looking for any sign of doubt in his command.
Jack frowned. "We'll be sitting ducks, if there's even a bridge to cross. Where the hell are we going?" She waited for Prangley to echo his earlier comment to Rodriguez, but he thankfully kept silent.
"I understand your concern, Jack, but we must cross the river. It's the only way we'll get to the rendezvous point."
"And what's that?"
Kirrahe consulted his omni-tool once again. "A human house of worship—Westminster Cathedral." He took his time wrapping his salarian tongue around the foreign words.
"Westminster?" Prangley stated in awe. "You mean it's still standing?"
"That I cannot tell you."
Jack ignored Prangley's interest. "How much farther?"
"A little over three kilometers."
"Shit," Jack said under her breath. "That'll take almost an hour on foot; two, if we run into a fight."
"I know the odds," Pebbles said. He went quiet for several seconds before he spoke again. "One wonders why the Reapers have not touched this place. It is pristine by human standards."
Jack looked at him, saw the images passing before his large, black eyes. They were reflected in them. She knew what he was thinking. Sur'Kesh. Greenery covered its surfaces the way concrete and skyscrapers covered Earth's. He was thinking of home, of seeing the same sort of ruins on his planet. Sur'Kesh had not yet been invaded, but it was in the Reapers' sights. The longer this war waged on, the more likely the invasion of Sur'Kesh would begin.
She felt for Pebbles. She really did, but she also knew Kirrahe wasn't one for sugar-coating. "They haven't touched it because there are no people here, so let's get moving before they find us and raze Battersea Park to the ground."
Kirrahe nodded. "Here's the plan."
EEE
The plan had been simple enough, but Jack hated it. It involved something she didn't particularly agree with—separation. Prangley called the body of water before them a boating lake. Even now as they rounded the lake, Jack could make out colorful boats bobbing in the water. It was surreal standing within this untouched park. Above the green trees, there was smoke and a hint of orange flame. Hell was around the corner and, sadly enough, their destination.
When they separated, Jack and her kids had cut left, while the salarians had moved forward to cut through water. Pebbles' idea was to cut across the park instead of taking the long way around, and salarians moved faster through water. Knowing the inept little humans wouldn't be able to keep up with them, he ordered them to make their way undetected through the park and rendezvous at the Chelsea Bridge. Jack hadn't liked the idea. How was she expected to protect them if they didn't stay together? But then, she wasn't in charge.
"Every minute we shave off to reach our destination, is one more minute we give the team to accomplish their mission," Kirrahe had said.
Jack still didn't like it, but onward they went in the cover of shade trees. They rounded the lake that should have been filled with happy afternoon boaters, upon a concrete pathway that should have seen recreational joggers getting in their exercise or people walking their dogs so they can take a shit in green grass. This unearthly darkness wasn't right. This silence of death wasn't either. The sensation was close to being within the protective bubble of a barrier. Nothing can touch you. You're safe. You're protected. You're within a bubble of peace and respite, but you can still hear the scream of death on the outside. Jack didn't know which was worse—being out there, or being in here.
They were past the pump house now, closing in on the boat launch. The sounds of death, destruction and the pounding feet of Reapers was getting closer.
"Stop!" Prangley called from behind.
Jack turned to see him looking at his omni-tool. He pointed forward, off the path. "Let's go this way. We can cut across the open-air arena."
Rodriguez shook her head. "We should stick to the path."
"Cutting across the arena will get us there quicker."
"Are you crazy?" Rodriguez said. "We'll be exposed to God knows what!"
"There's no time. We've gotta meet up with the STG group ASAP. Those scrawny little pond jumpers move faster than us and you know it."
Jack punched his arm. "Hey. Those scrawny little pond jumpers outrank you, and they could take you out in a second."
Prangley rolled his eyes and nodded; his own manner of apology. "Don't worry, Rodriguez. There's nothing out here anyway."
"Face it, Rodriguez," Jack said. "Sometimes Prangley's right. Besides, we're more likely to be spotted standing here arguing than we will if we're on the move, so let's go. Lead the way, Prangley."
"Yes, ma'am."
Prangley shot ahead, leading them through the trees and over grass that never smelled as sweet to Jack as it did right then. Maybe it was the thought that she wasn't getting off this planet alive, or maybe the nostalgic sensation of grass crunching underfoot and knowing this might be the last time she ever experienced it. She didn't want that to end. But, soon enough, Prangley led them over interconnecting pathways, then back into the cover of trees until they reached a building with a triple-arched roof.
Millennium Arena—Battersea Park were the words spelled out in silver metallic lettering over the entrance. With its intentionally weathered wooden face and steel designed accoutrements, the building looked more like a factory than the entrance to an arena. Were she here to watch a sporting match, Jack might have shown more interest in its design, but she simply wanted to stay alive long enough to get the job done. Architecture and design were the last things on her mind.
Think about it when this is over. Think about it when the Alliance gives you a big fat paycheck.
If the war ever got to the point where it was 'over,' anyway. Jack tried not to think of that either.
"This way," Prangley whispered.
He felt it too; the sense that they were about to leave it all behind. It was serenely peaceful and yet immensely terrifying at the same time.
A fence blocked entrance to the arena, but Prangley made his way around that. To the building's right, the fence had a closed gate. His omni-tool provided easy access. They were through in seconds, making their way under the cover of trees surrounding the building's property; cover that wouldn't last long.
"No, no, no," Rodriguez whispered as they rounded the back of the building.
Ahead lay a running track and rugby field at its center, but it wasn't the fence blocking entrance that had Rodriguez antsy; it was the wide open area and the anticipated run they were about to face.
"There's got to be another way," she added, fear shining like a light in her eyes.
Jack seized the girl's shoulder and squeezed. "Suck it up, Rodriguez. This is war, and you're a damn soldier."
"Yes, ma'am," Rodriguez said, but her shaky voice proved she wasn't convinced.
Jack eyed them both. "Listen to me. Put the fear behind you. Forget about it. It's ugly. It's dirty. And it doesn't give a shit about you. Kick fear in the ass and run like you've never run before. If you could stand up to Cerberus, you can stand up to your own fear. You got me?"
Prangley saluted. Rodriguez nodded, took a deep breath and swallowed the fear as best she could. The girl did no more than throw a sheet over it, but it would have to suffice. For now, they had to get moving. As much as they jabbered along the way, they could have taken the long way around.
Jack vaulted over the fence blocking access to the track. They were still in the shade of an overhanging tree, but they wouldn't be for long. As soon as Prangley and Rodriguez were over, she gave the two a dose of her strength with one good, long look.
"Let's run!"
Giving the two a head start, Jack flanked them, running as fast as she could. Fear gave Rodriguez impetus. She streaked across the track, her heels kicking up the kind of dirt only a track runner could truly appreciate. They crossed the track and its rugby field midways, and were it not for the fenced in tennis court ahead, they would have made a straight bee-line for the trees. Instead, they had to go around it, skirting the high fencing designed to keep tennis balls off the track field. They were passing the court on their right, no more than thirty meters to the cover and relative safety of trees, when a low, keening sound issued above their heads.
Jack looked up and her eyes bugged. Harvester! The winged abomination must have spotted their movement. It was free diving right in their direction.
"Shit! Run!"
She didn't give either of them a chance to look up, least of all Rodriguez. Urging them forward with harsh commands she normally reserved for her more insolent students, they made it into the shadow of trees in hardly enough time. A shot streaked by her, close enough to singe hair. Jack rolled right, shot to her knees and with a battle-ready scream, she shot a shockwave with all her force toward the landing Harvester.
It had hardly set two monstrous feet on the ground, when it stumbled, lost its balance in the strength of the shockwave and fell over.
"Jack!"
"Run," she screamed back. She knew she couldn't take the beast down on her own, and those two, strong as they were with their own biotics, didn't have what it took to take down a Harvester. Their best bet was cover, and trees, unfortunately, wouldn't offer the kind of cover they needed. Out here, she didn't know what would. She gained her feet and followed her students into the thicket of trees and thick bramble. How long did they have? How long before it ignited everything around them and burned them to a crisp?
Jack gritted her teeth, pissed to be trapped this way. The Harvester keened, but she didn't look back. They shot through the trees and through to another open pathway. They were momentarily back out in the open, cutting a path toward an upward sloping hill dotted with trees.
"Hide! Get behind trees. Don't let it see movement!"
They were diving, heading for cover when a breeze arced over them. Sweating as they were, it felt good. The breeze was cool, but ominous. Above them, through the breaks in the branches and leaves, was the Harvester. It wasn't fooled. It has spotted them even through the limited cover.
Jack wasn't going down without a fight. "To me," she yelled to Prangley and Rodriguez, and raised her weapon. A few rounds pierced the Harvester's semi-organic hull, shattered a glowing blue eye and sent it banking out of the way. Time enough for her two students to steady themselves at her side. "Barrier!"
The Harvester reared its ugly head back into view. Jack gave it a few more rounds. She knew what the sight of a Harvester meant. Reaper ground troops. It dropped them like deadly gifts. They wouldn't last long out here the three of them alone.
Prangley and Rodriguez raised the barrier above them, blocking the second shot from the Harvester's ugly maw. The ground troops would be here any second. They couldn't stay here, but the barrier hindered movement. It was a stationary job, keeping troops in cover while they defended their position. You could move, but it was more taxing on the biotic providing the cover, and it didn't keep enemies out, it only prevented their fire power from getting in. They were stuck. Looked like the war would come to an end sooner for them than it would for anyone else.
Jack screamed in rage. She wasn't going out like this, trapped like a kid in a cage. She shot above her head like a mad woman at the approaching Harvester. It dipped low, ready to drop its gift, and Jack took out another eye. It voiced it own rage, but Jack didn't stop. Bullet after bullet flew from her weapon. She watched pieces of its armor flick away, the tip of a wing pop off like a zit, another eye go dark. A few seconds passed where Jack forgot where she was. The trees disappeared, replaced by metal rooms. The screams of the Harvester were the screams of her victims within Teltin. Escape by any means necessary. Get out! Live! It was all she knew until the screams of her victims, of the Harvester, turned into the scream of a fighter jet.
Overhead, what looked like two golden arrows hit the Harvest broadside. Jack didn't think she'd ever seen anything more beautiful.
"Yeah! Eat that, Harvester bitch!"
With Prangley and Rodriguez cheering beside her, the Harvester careened somewhere out of sight. The only evidence of its impact with hard-packed earth was the shudder beneath their feet. Jack eyed the empty sky above just as two jets screamed overhead, pounding more fire power into the Harvester which had disappeared somewhere south. It's keening turned into the screams of the dying. A good sound to rally her troops.
They came kissing distance close to meeting their end. Hell, they might still buy it somewhere later today, but not right now and it was better than a good feeling. Prangley had one arm around her neck, and Rodriguez had both wrapped around her waist. Jack grimaced when she wanted to smile. She could get used to this.
"Come on, guys. Lay off. We've still gotta meet up with the pond jumpers."
Jack would have broke into a run then, but her comm crackled to life with static. It was probably Pebbles checking on their progress and making sure they made it out alive. They had to have seen the Harvester. Jack raised a hand to her ear to clear the signal. Her heart was still racing and her hands were shaking with a crazy adrenaline, but she was here. She and her kids were still alive.
"Jack," came a voice, cracked and hazy through the comm, but it clearly wasn't salarian.
She wished for a chance to get her voice under control. She was winded and she shook from head to toe, but there was nothing for it. She had to answer. "Yeah, who's this?"
"You know who this is. Get your ass out of there! You have ground troops inbound. We'll try to take out what we can."
There was no mistaking the voice. Jack both loved and hated her at the same time. "Son of a bitch, is that you, Cheerleader?"
Jack could have sworn she heard a chuckle.
"One and the same. Get moving so we can light this place up."
"You got it! Let's move boys and girls!"
If either of her kids doubted what "light this place up" meant, it didn't show in how they followed orders. They gave their final run their all. Up the slightly sloping hill ahead and down its other side, neither of them stopped. Not even when the sound of gunfire sounded from above and behind them, and the scream of husks overwhelmed the silence of the park. Knowing how close those things had been made Jack's stomach turn. But she kept moving, across another pathway and into another patch of trees. They were thin this time. She could see a fence on the other side and a bank of ruins beyond it. They were almost out of Battersea Park.
Jack banked left when she reached the fence. She would have vaulted but for the spikes. Didn't matter anyway. The exit was close. Ahead was an open roadway still littered with fall leaves. A semblance of what was. Eyes glued to the normalcy of gold and orange leaves, Jack nearly ran face first into a locked gate.
"Shit!" Cursing and kicking, Jack shook the gate. She couldn't believe her eyes. There were two gates, one on either side of the road. Both were closed, and if that didn't beat all, two gates blocked vehicle entrance to the road. With all that had happened within the last several minutes, she was dumbfounded to find herself trapped again. "What is it with this city and gates!"
She raised her gun, ready to depress the trigger when—
"Jack!"
Behind them, running over the hill and between the trees, were a host of husks. Somehow, these disgusting things had made it out of the fire fight. The very touch of their feet upon the ground was a desecration. Their filth marred the pristine beauty of Battersea Park.
Disgusted, Jack took careful aim. "Prangley, get that gate open."
She heard fear in his voice, but he obliged. "Yes, ma'am."
They were almost upon them. "Rodriguez, you know what to do."
As the girl's biotic powers revved up, Jack took the first shot, and then the next and the next. One by one, the human abominations fell. Rodriguez used her biotic powers to pull them from the ground two at a time. She slammed them against trees, impaled them upon the fence or threw them clear across the street. If only they could make it over the fence so easily, but they used the time it took for Prangley to get the gate open with his omni-tool to lay waste to the approaching offensive. The buzzing sound of the omni-tool cutting through steel hinges (a throwback to the old days Battersea Park was) was as loud as the scream of husks.
Jack took three more down. Rodriguez crushed two more. Their lines were thinning, but continued to come over the hillside. That's when Jack saw something different waddling over the hill with a clear line of sight. Rachni!
"Prangley?"
"Almost there!"
"We need to go now!"
"I'm trying!"
Jack put her all into the fire fight, but she was running out of ammo and they were sitting ducks for the rachni. Using her biotic powers, she picked up a handful of husks and threw them at the bulbous monstrosity. Rodriguez followed suit. Yet it didn't stop the rachni's forward movement. Husks were all but spent. The rachni, coined Ravagers by the Alliance, kept coming. Jack guessed it could be worse. A brute, a hideous combination of turian and krogan, could top the hill. They were as ugly as the Reaper's bastardized version of the rachni, but they were big and they were brutal. Still, it didn't diminish the dread that came over her when the rachni positioned its bright red laser between her eyes. Two twin turreted guns, implanted on either side of the rachni's head, took aim. Jack didn't budge. She gritted her teeth and emptied her weapon into the rachni. If this was the end, so be it!
The clang of wrought iron making contact with concrete, the command of a salarian voice, the pop of scorpion pistols firing explosive projectiles—all of it happened in the seconds before the rachni could let go one round. Its laser beam vanished and it stopped its forward movement to examine the numerous projectiles that had adhered to its body. Each one beeped successively, increasing in intensity until…
BOOM!
The rachni exploded into a million green oozy pieces. Its "children," the Reapers synthetic version of rachni babies, exploded from the creature's bulbous egg sacks, spilling them like cockroaches onto the grass. The little skittering critters, and what was left of the husks, the salarians made short work of.
Jack didn't think she would ever be happy to see a salarian in her life. Still…
She broke from Prangley and Rodriguez, pounced through the now open gate (thanks to Prangley) and onto the salarian major. "Where the hell have you been? Don't tell me you didn't see the Harvester that almost pulverized us into meat!"
Major Kirrahe, on the opposite side of the fence with the rest of his troop, appeared immune to Jack's verbal attacks. "We saw it. There is little time to explain. The fighter jet pilot who informed us of your situation has also warned us of a large contingent approaching from the south. We must make haste across the bridge."
Jack knew not to butt heads with command. Shepard had taught her better than that, and it was a bad example for her kids, but damn it all to hell, they had almost been killed twice since they separated from the salarian unit inside the park. She needed to let out a little aggression.
"Bullshit!" Jack stepped closer to Pebbles until she was nose to…well, face to face with the salarian. "We need cover before I'll cross that bridge. I'm not taking my kids across it without a plan."
A tightening of the brow was the closest thing to ire Jack had ever seen on Pebbles. "In my entire career, I've not made a move without a well thought out plan. You claim to have worked with Commander Shepard. If your claims are as true as you say, then I'm sure she's informed you of my capability."
"Yeah, my claims are true, and she's told me all about you. You're the ballsiest tactician in STG behind Mordin Solus, but I don't take well to almost getting my ass shot off." Jack lowered her voice to a menacing whisper. "And I almost lost my kids. Anything happens to them and you lose your protection. You got that?"
"Understood, Jack," Kirrahe said, but his appearance belied his words. Jack's words had put no fear in him. "We are equal, then. I, too, would not 'take well' to losing anyone under my command, but advance we must. Are you with us or not?"
With Prangley and Rodriguez at her side, Jack had no choice but to follow command. "If you've got a plan, I'm with you."
"An acceptable plan," Kirrahe said with a nod.
Jack frowned. She still didn't like it, but she would have followed no matter the odds. Going forward was better than staying behind. "Lead the way."
The salarians moved out at the major's behest, and Jack and her students followed. They jogged a ways from the Battersea Park gate. Jack gave it one last glance over her shoulder. The time for greenery and the serenity of nature was over. Back to war.
The park now behind them, the troop jogged out into the open. Across the street were the ruins of what had once been an apartment building. Jack remained eager to nestle in its crumbled pockets of protection than to run wide open on a bridge with no cover, but she forced herself to trust in the salarian major. He knew what he was doing. Would he have made it off Virmire all those years ago with Shepard if he didn't?
"What was that about?" Prangley asked as they cross the bridge's threshold. They were now over the Thames.
Jack gave him a quick sideways glance. "Me protecting what's mine." She didn't see the smile Prangley and Rodriguez shared behind her back, but she knew it was there.
"Aye-aye, ma'am," Prangley answered.
The Chelsea Bridge, like Battersea Park, was a holdover from days gone by. This part of the city was still the old London, and Chelsea Bridge was still the same self-anchored suspension bridge that had been built in the late 1930's, with many major overhauls and newfangled additions over the last two hundred and fifty years. Four towers held up the suspension cables, and at either end of the bridge two lamp posts lit the way, each ornamented with gilded galleons. Their light was hazy, wavering. On a good night, the entire bridge would be glowing, from beneath as well as along the cables to the very tops of its towers, but there wasn't much light left in London. What was left was lit by flame and the eerie light of Reapers in the distance. Jack could make out two for sure.
They were nearly halfway across when a screech tore through the night. It stopped them in their tracks. When Jack turned, her jaw came unhinged.
She yelled over her shoulder to the major. "'Large contingent' my ass! That's an entire goddamn regiment!"
Behind them, on the other side of the bridge and just coming into view near the park, a mass of Reapers forces. In among them were not only brutes and rachni ravagers, but banshees, disfigured Reaper versions of asari with one hell of a set of pipes. Their screeches were ear-shattering. Jack hoped Kirrahe's "acceptable plan" contained a miracle, otherwise they were not getting out of this one like they had the last two.
A shot landed at her feet, leaving a black scorch mark, and a salarian cried out in pain behind her.
"Move!" Kirrahe commanded.
What other choice did they have but to run and hope a stray or intentional bullet didn't bury itself in their backs? Jack shoved her students forward and ran. There was no option but to turn and put up a barrier to protect their retreat. She fired behind her as she ran, hoping to suppress the fire of advancing cannibals. Brutes were tearing their way across the bridge. Her troop was only half way across. They were never going to make it in time.
"Now would be a good damn time to employ that 'acceptable plan' of yours, Major!"
It wasn't until she said it that Rodriguez pointed out the row of explosives laid out across the center of the bridge. Jack smiled. They were going to be cutting it close, but it sure as hell would be pretty.
She jumped over the row of explosives, turning to mow down several cannibals (batarian Reaper constructs with just enough brains to hold a weapon). The screech of banshees was chilling enough to stop the heart of a hardened warrior, but the screech of fighter jets overhead could drown them out. Jack imagined Miranda, with her genetically-modified body of perfection and her tight fitting clothing, in the cockpit with her fingers on the controls, obliterating every beast in pursuit. Her hatred for the cheerleader obliterated with them. She understood what the 'acceptable plan' was now. Jack planted her feet to the pavement and ran like she never had before.
Major Kirrahe and his band of soldiers cleared the bridge's threshold on the other side. Prangley and Rodriguez made it steps ahead of her. Jack gave into temptation and looked back. She wanted to see the bridge go when Miranda locked onto the explosives. The last thing she expected to see was a brute several feet in front of her.
It launched in the air. Jack closed her eyes and ejected a stream of biotic power ahead of her, but that only lessened its forward movement. She wasn't armored. She was going to feel it.
The brute rammed into her with bone crushing force.
The screech of a fighter jet. The zap of laser fire, and Jack felt rather than heard the explosion. Like watching a vid on slo-mo, the world stopped. Heat singed her and the bridge shook beneath her. She felt a stinging graze to her cheek and felt sure there would be blood, then the ground gave way, the pavement vanished beneath her feet. She was falling.
What's that saying? Three times the charm. As soon as the falling sensation ended, Jack knew she had been saved, and by her student no less. Who else had the power to save her from a free fall in the middle of the air? But her body still ached from the brute's impact; her third life used up. How many more did she have left?
Jack didn't open her eyes until her body touched solid ground. A flurry of movement told her Prangley and Rodriguez were at her side in seconds. The healing sound of an omni-tool dispensing medigel flowed through her.
"Jack, are you okay?" Rodriguez cried.
Jack sat up. "Ugh, never better. Am I alive?"
Prangley examined her through his omni-tool. He nodded. "You're good."
"A few scrapes and bruises," said Kirrahe, kneeling beside her. "But I believe you're going to make it. Our enemy, on the other hand…" He lifted his slight chin to indicate direction.
Jack turned and stared at the destruction of the Chelsea Bridge. It was gone, destroyed in a barrage of flame along with every Reaper creeper than had crawled over it. There were plenty more on the other side gunning for a fight though. They fired their weapons, cannibals and ravagers alike, and banshees exploded biotic powers, but none of their fire power made it across the Thames. For now, the STG group of salarians and humans were safe.
Rodriguez helped Jack to her feet. "We did it, Jack."
"You're damn right we did." She shot the Reaper horde a middle finger wishing it were a nuke instead. "But this ain't over yet."
"Far from over," Kirrahe said. "We've still have many kilometers left to go before we reach our destination."
Jack held her midsection and grimaced. She ached all over. "Let's get this over with. I'm itching for another fight anyway."
Rodriguez laughed…or, she would have. She would have told Jack what she needed was a break, or maybe even a good vacation. But she never had a chance to utter the words. No, a bullet didn't tear through her chest or plant itself between her eyes, but one might have thought so with how quickly she quieted. She wasn't the only one. Even the horde on the other side of the river went silent.
To the north, the sky ripped open and a beam of white light shot from the clouds hundreds of kilometers above, stabbing into the ground like an omni-tool blade.
"By the maker," one salarian uttered.
"My God," Prangley whispered beside her.
Kirrahe and the majority of his troopers remained silent. Jack was the one who couldn't hold her tongue. After the long battle out of Battersea Park and her subsequent saves—once by Miranda, once by the STG troops and finally by her own students—this felt like the last blow, the final nail in the coffin.
"What the fuck is that?"
The only one brave enough to venture an answer to that question was Pebbles.
"We haven't the luxury of time to find out, Jack. We need to get off this road. We've drawn too much attention to our location already. Commander Rentola, move the troops out!"
"Yes, sir!"
Kirrahe crossed the once busy road with his troops in tow and disappeared into the rubble of North London. Jack moved to follow, urging her kids forward, but not without staring warily at the beam of light that had sliced its way downward from the heavens above. Right now, with the distance they had left to travel, and the possible entanglements they could find themselves in along the way, she didn't want to know what it meant.
I made great use of Google Maps to write Jack's traverse through the ruined streets of London in this and in further chapters. Bioware never really gave us a great look at their version of future London, so I had to use my imagination coupled with reality. To any Londoners, your input in this portion of the story would be helpful. Let me know if I've gotten anything wrong.
Well, what do you think so far? I would love to hear from you.