Typhon Outpost, Proteus, Athens System, 07 August 2169 CE
"Doctor Chen, how do you assess the progress of the Argonaut Project?" The hollow silhouette spoke in a gritty tone. Wisps of smoke trailed from the cigarette he held in his hand. His blue eyes the only light piercing the shadows.
"We're almost ready to move forward with phase three. We can increase the biotic potential of subjects that express the necessary adaptation, regardless of how strongly they manifest it. I've included the data in the report," Chen briefed his sponsor.
The silhouette took a long draw from his cigarette and breathed out slowly.
"What's preventing you from moving to the next phase?" He inquired, tapping the smoldering edge of the cigarette against a small dish.
"I need more test subjects. I can't conduct new experiments using the four remaining subjects. They're incomplete but applying the new process would just kill them. We've tried. For the next generation implants, I need fresh biotically inclined children." Chen said matter-of-factly.
"Agent Colorado, are the Argonauts undergoing your training field-ready?" Upon being addressed, Colorado walked towards the display next to Chen.
"As ready as any teenagers who haven't seen real combat can be," he said without his characteristic accent.
"You know better than most. There's no substitute for war," the silhouette swiveled his chair and faced his back towards the screen. "And that's what we're fighting. A war."
"That's the truth," agreed Colorado.
"I want you to take them with your team in the next operation," the man pressed a button, cascading images and data files expanded to the borders of the display, "any objections?"
"Three of Chen's monsters are dangerously powerful, but they're only average when it comes to actual soldiering. Beta is skittish like a deer. Gamma and Epsilon combined don't weigh more than I do. They 'll survive a direct action op, sure. I'm more concerned about the fourth," Colorado paused and looked at Chen.
"Subject Delta?" The silhouette moved his hand to an off-screen console. "Says here your team assesses him low for biotic raw strength, but high in everything else."
"No normal twelve year old picks up a rifle for the first time and shoots like he did. He's starting to give Nevada a run for his money in their training spars. The boy hasn't even turned fifteen yet," Colorado felt like he was making an argument against himself, "Somethings off with him. He's got history with an asari to boot. I don't think he's someone we can use."
"Agent, that's where you're wrong. There's no one we can't use to serve Cerberus," The Illusive Man made a small wave with the back of his hand and cut the feed.
The Command Information Center of Typhon Outpost was a smaller room, dimly lit except for the multiple monitors and displays, whose glow reflected off the faces of multiple officers and staff. While the lower levels of the outpost were sparsely decorated, the doors in this room were adorned with a familiar white and orange emblem. An elongated white hexagon paired with two thick orange lines on the side, the symbol of Cerberus. Richter might have been shocked if it was three years ago, but the after three years, it felt like the logical conclusion. All this did was act as confirmation for that assumption.
In the center, all four teams sat around a table looking over a suspended holo-projection. The scaled down model of a two kilometer long space station slowly spun in place. The station's main body was shaped like a wide cylinder with two long spires protruding at each end.
Each of the four teenagers sat next to their trainer except for Gamma's. Her trainer, Colorado, had yet to arrive. Aside from Richter, the young biotics seemed more than awe of the device than the information displayed on the accompanying monitor. This was the first time any of them were allowed in the room. Usually they were restricted to the lower floors of the outpost.
"Gagarin Station..." Richter said mostly to himself as he examined the readout. That was his original destination over three years ago. A school he never got to attend.
"It's located on the outermost edge of our home system," informed Nevada, overhearing him speak.
"I remember reading about it," Richter said in a half-lie. The dots started to connected in his head. Why they were all sitting in the CIC. Why this projection was on the table. Why Cerberus would be interested in this station. His gut wrenched.
Across the table, Epsilon's trainer Utah, leaned over to whisper into Wyoming's ear. Richter couldn't hear what was said, but after hearing it, Wyoming looked at him and smirked.
He knew these two intimately from the mock battles they conducted every week. Neither held much love for him. He felt fortunate he was paired with Nevada, who maintained a professional, if not stand-offish, attitude.
Feeling someone's stare, Richter glanced toward Epsilon who's attention lingered before she pulled her eyes away. He smiled at her briefly. She had grown prettier, but he couldn't help feeling like she was still a child, even if physically they were similar in age. Her high cheek bones and long nose gave her face an angular profile. In a few years, Richter felt like she would be very popular.
"Don't even think about it kid," his trainer spoke low enough for only him to hear.
Not wanting to correct his assumption, Richter just smiled and subtly shook his head.
"We're getting started," Colorado said from behind them, walking up to the holo-projection.
"A month from now, we will be conducting a rescue mission on Gagarin Station. There are two hundred and eleven children currently being held on the station. Rogue scientists employed by the Alliance and their turian partners conduct inhumane experiments on the children, often beating and starving them for entertainment," Colorado played a security recording of an intimidating looking turian kicking one of the children who fell to the ground. Small gasps from the trainees could be heard from across the table.
Seeing through the facade, Richter couldn't help but suppress a grin. He knew that the conditions were rough on the station, but not to the degree that Colorado was playing it up to be. If anything, the BAaT program would be deactivated, given a year or two.
"We will travel using a disguised commercial frigate and take a shuttle to dock with the station. Our access codes will be official, so station security will not be on high alert when we land," The diagram zoomed onto one of the docking platforms with a small shuttle moving toward it. "Once we dock, it'll be just the eight of us doing the rescue. For this operation, teams will act organically. Utah and Epsilon will secure the docking site. Nevada and Delta will neutralize the security and communication's system. Myself, Gamma, Wyoming and Beta will conduct the main assault and rescue."
Red lines extended through the holo-projection as he spoke. Routes through the station and the key locations were all highlighted.
"Ideally, we want to execute this all without the station going to full alert. If Nevada's team shuts down their communications network, there will be no problem. However, if they fail, we'll have about twenty minutes from when the alert sounds to when Alliance Navy ships sortie. In that scenario, we will evacuate as many children as we can and redock with the frigate."
The plan seemed simple enough, but Richter felt like Colorado omitting critical information.
"Resistance will be light. The station's security is armed with pistols and non-lethal stun batons. They have standard Avenger series rifles however the release authority is the head of the station. That delays their deployment time significantly. Additionally, the turian mercenaries are skilled fighters and talented biotics. We don't know if they will assist the security forces, however they are primary targets. Kill or capture." Colorado emphasized the last part of his speech.
Concerned looks crossed the faces of his peers. Beta uncomfortably shifted in his seat.
"It's your first mission, but don't worry, you're trained better than most Alliance marines. Obey all orders your team trainer and the operation will be successful," reassured Colorado, relieving some of their anxiety.
"We'll be using the battle simulation room on the bottom level. Report there at thirteen-hundred. There are lockers with the gear you will be using for the mission. Your trainers will instruct you how to fit and wear it." After giving out the last guidance, Colorado turned to leave. Gamma hopped up and followed his heels.
Cerberus attacking Gagarin Station was not an event he remembered happening in Mass Effect. Did he miss something? Effectively fifteen years have passed since his old life, he might have forgotten. Free will could also be at work. He couldn't even be sure the future would perfectly match the game's events.
Richter burned the station's blueprint into his mind, memorizing the route and room layouts. His team's job seemed the least likely to run into complications and enemy resistance. This seemed like his best opportunity to say goodbye to Cerberus and find asylum with the Alliance. If he could sabotage the mission and ensure the alert sounds, ditching Nevada in the process, he could hide on the station until the Alliance arrives.
"Let's go," Nevada said. A month was his deadline to devise a plan to sabotage the mission and escape his trainer. The latter felt the more difficult of the two.
Richter pressed his palm on the locker's scanner marked with his name. A satisfying hiss confirmed his access and the door slide upwards. A stack of gray armor pieces laid on top of a thick black uniform. He pulled out the uniform, it felt slightly stiff, probably some type of kinetic padding. The armor pieces consisted of a vest, shielding unit, and several individual plates. The vest was clearly marked with the Cerberus symbol on the left breast. The entire set was unlike the normal combat hardsuits used by the military, more lightweight and compact. He doubted they manufactured hardsuits their size. Richter was now tall enough to stand eye to eye with his stout trainer but the others still had room to grow.
Nevada joined him wearing a more standard set of armor, helmet under his arm.
"Throw on the suit and I'll help you with the armor pieces," Nevada said opening up a separate locker.
Richter stripped down and threw on the form-fitting suit. His trainer methodically connected the armor to his arms and legs. Finally, Richter was handed a gray helmet meant to completely cover the face and head. Where eyes should be, an angled black visor reflected the ceiling's lights at him. With both hands, he lowered the helmet over his head. Immediately, the internal interface and targeting assist lit up. A small cursor followed his eye movement across the screen.
"Here, connect the pistol to the hard point on your right side." Nevada handed him a pistol that was retracted into its inactive mode. It was one of the Cerberus produced Harpy pistols, compact but heavy.
Richter tested his flexibility, rotating his arms and legs in several different directions. It felt good. The girls and Beta stepped out of the elevator and paused seeing him in the full suit. His attempt to greet them was muffled by the helmet. Nevada pressed a finger into a switch at the back of his head, causing the frontal plate to slide upwards, revealing his face.
"Just me," Richter said, pressed the same spot and let the helmet reseal. The others opened their lockers, finding similar sets inside. Their eyes sparkled as they inspected the armor. Seeing them undress, he took that as his cue to enter the battle simulations room.
The room was more akin to a warehouse. It was expansive, with excess configurable walls and third generation LOKI mechs stacked against the sides of the room. A mock multistory structure stood at the center.
"The layout matches the station's. Only the section we'll be hitting though," Nevada said from behind.
Richter found the helmet's speaker function with his eyes and toggled the option.
"We're disabling the security and communications systems, right? Bet they have countermeasures in place," Richter wanted to know the details.
"I've got the key," Nevada ignited his omni-tool and punched in a few commands. "Bypassing firewalls and security systems is my specialty. That's why we were chosen."
"And if you go down?"
"I won't."
"Teach me. I can help," he requested. Richter didn't know the first thing about hacking security systems, but if Nevada taught him, he might be able to hack into Typhon's mainframe.
"I'll think about it," Nevada told him.
"Yes sir."
The teams joined them in the room shortly after. In the combat suits, his peers appeared more intimidating than usual, despite their smaller sizes.
"Mission starts at the docking bay. We'll run through the entire mission, through disabling the security to evacuation of the hostages. We have one month, we'll do rehearsals until we have it perfected," Colorado announced.
All teams gathered into the mock shuttle. Nearest the doors, Nevada and Richter staged to sprint once the shuttle completed docking. The light went green and immediately the two burst through the door.
Two LOKIs stood in the main docking bay, representing the docking crew. Without firing, Nevada bore down on the first mech. His hand grabbed its face and he shoved it hard into the floor, disabling it. Richter went for the second. He kept his body low as rushed forward. When he was a meter away, he leapt at the mech, bringing his knee hard into its head.
"Delta, keep up!" He yelled, continuing down the route with increasing speed.
Richter pumped his legs hard following behind him. The corridor twisted ahead of them, but they didn't encounter any other mechs until they reached the security office. Nevada started cracking the door's encryption.
"Don't look at me, cover the rear!" his eyes didn't leave his omni-tool as he worked quickly.
Richter turned heel and brought his pistol up, extending it to its active configuration. Two LOKIs turned the corner towards the office. The mechs raised their pistols toward him. Richter raised his hand and formed a biotic barrier between them.
"We got two," he called out, simultaneously fired into the mechs, rounds punching through their chassis'. The closest mech didn't go down and sent several real rounds into his barrier. He didn't expect the LOKIs to be armed with live weapons. The second mech deactivated after another several rounds.
You've got to be kidding me, he thought. Nevada should have informed him of the live training scenario.
Red lights flashed and an alarm blared, signaling the station going into alert.
"Twenty minutes," Colorado announced over the internal comm-link.
Nevada finished the hack and rushed into the security room. Multiple bursts from an assault rifle concluded after several moments. Advancing his position, Richter heard the steps of several mechs advancing down the hall.
"More coming!" he shouted and stopped short of the intersection. Richter leaned around the corner and saw a dozen synthetics advancing forward.
He swore under his breath and concentrated biotic energy towards his hand. Turning the corner, he lashed out. The concentrated energy traveled like a shockwave down the hall and slammed into the leading mech. The synthetic crashed backward and its lights flickered out but the others in the group weren't affected. He was too weak to do any damage at that distance. The other biotics could have sent the entire group flying. Richter witnessed their power first hand.
Firing into the group as fast as could, several rounds ripped through the hall, pinging off the mechs and digging into the walls and floor. The weapon kept up with his manic trigger squeezes, however the heat gauge built just as quickly. His pistol locked up and its fins kicked to release excess heat. The weapon's exhaust shimmered in the air. A hail of fire forced him back, the rounds pelting his barrier to its collapse.
A large hand grabbed his collar from behind and yanked him down. Nevada replaced him at the corner and sprayed his rifle at advancing group.
"Beta's down. Utah, come retrieve him," Colorado's voice erupting into his helmet.
"We're done over here. We'll come pick him up," Nevada replied.
"Lock onto Beta's beacon," ordered Nevada. His rifle kept at the ready and he scanned the intersection. Seeing it clear of any additional mechs, he started retracing back down the route.
They stepped deliberately, Nevada spearheading their movement. Inside his visor, his position indicator blinked as they closed onto the four beacons of the assault team. Gunfire echoed across the structure.
"Beta is just up ahead," Nevada pointed forward, "Delta, you'll carry him back to the docking bay and hand him off to Utah's team. On my signal."
Nevada held out a fist and moved behind low cover.
"Now!" Nevada fired into a small team of mechs maneuvering behind the assault team.
Using his radar, Richter sprinted to Beta's location. Enemy fire deflected off his shield and rounds trailed behind him. Not slowing, he dove behind cover and land at Beta's feet. The biotic was pressing his hands over his leg, dark red blood flowing through his glove's fingers. Muffled whimpers matched the child's trembling chest. A deep gouge on the leg armor led to the bullet's penetration. The armor deflected the round and prevented a severe wound.
"Calm down, you'll be okay," Richter comforted the boy.
"Nevada, do you have medigel? He's bleeding on his leg." He restricted his communication to only his trainer.
"Catch." From across the room, Nevada launched the small tube into the air. Richter pulled the object into his hands, barely thinking about action. Richter pried Beta's hands out of the way and pressed the applicator into the wound. Medicated foam spilled out, covering his hands and the leg.
"Alright, I'm carrying you back to the shuttle. Don't squirm," Richter lowered the wounded child's mass to a mere fraction of his actual weight. Hoisting him up, he settled the child across his shoulders and started jogging back to the docking bay.
Mech wreckages lined the route, but he stepped lightly around them. Nearing the shuttle bay, he saw Epsilon alight with biotic power. Her hands thrust out to Richter, sending out two large purple spheres flying at him. Despite himself, he flinched and generated the strongest barrier he could. The waves of energy passed harmlessly around him, landing on two mechs behind him. Synthetic jointed creaked and snapped, the metal skeletons collapsed as if being crushed by a hydraulic press.
"Thanks," he exhaled as his panic dissipated, lowering Beta to the ground.
"Y-you're welcome," Epsilon's quiet voice barely making it to his ears.
"Times almost up, retrograding to the shuttle," informed Colorado.
"Epsilon, watch for targets. Delta, drag him into the shuttle," Utah barked from the side.
Richter leaned down and grabbed Beta's arm, bringing it behind his neck.
"You took that shot like a champ," Richter said as he walked with the kid. Not informing them that they be practicing against enemy with live rounds was absolutely absurd. Cerberus was either confident they wouldn't get severely injured, or they didn't value their lives very much. Richter's guess didn't inspire confidence.
After a minute, the rest of the team joined them on the shuttle. Colorado activated his omni-tool and deactivated the siren and red alert lights.
"Twenty-two minutes. Too slow. We will need to move quicker. Preventing the alert is critical. Delta, that was your fuck-up cowboy. Don't shoot unless you are absolutely sure you need to. Biotics or CQC, until we shut down comms and disable the security system," he finally turned his attention towards the wounded teenager. "Beta, I hope you learned the importance of keeping your gat'damn head down and behind cover."
Colorado removed his helmet and ran his fingers across the bridge of his nose.
"Hand over your pistols and go take off your armor. We're done for the day. One of y'all go take him to the medbay to get checked out," Colorado said with mild irritation.
Richter and the other biotics opened their lockers, methodically stripping off their armor and placing it inside. Gamma and Epsilon didn't show any modesty, their soft skin clearly visible. His body reacted despite what he was thinking. Distracting himself, he helped Beta remove his armor. Discomfort was clear in his round eyes. Taking off the lower combat suit caused him yelp. The two girls to jumped at the sudden sound. Soft, inflamed flesh was coated with dried blood. It wasn't a severe wound.
"Does it hurt?" Gamma asked, seeing the fresh wound.
"Not really," the boy told her. Richter smirked at witnessing the stereotypical behavior.
"Looks like it does," she squinted her eyes, leaning in closer for a look.
"I'm taking him to the medbay if you two want to come," Richter offered. It wasn't often they were together unsupervised. If he could learn more about them, he might be able to get them to cooperate in escaping Cerberus. However, trusting children who spent so many years under the guidance of Cerberus agents was not something he was willing to risk.
"I'll come," Epsilon said a little too eagerly, hurriedly tying her hair back into a ponytail.
"Sure," Gamma agreed.
As a group, they made the short trip from the elevator to the medical bay. One of the doctors was on standby expecting Beta's arrival, taking the boy into the back room.
"So, where are you two from?" Richter asked breaking the silence.
"I... used to live in Montreal," Epsilon managed to say. She had a habit of looking downwards when she spoke.
"Did you have any brothers or sisters?"
"The orphanage had other kids that I lived with," Epsilon said quietly. That made sense, probably made it easy for Cerberus to acquire her.
"How about you, Gamma?" He changed targets, not wanting to step on an emotional minefield.
She crossed her arms and looked him in the eyes.
"What about me?" She said clearly annoyed.
"Well, where did you live?" He wasn't sure what she was upset about.
"Who cares. I'm never going back. My parents couldn't wait to get rid of me," Gamma turned away from him.
Never mind stepping onto an emotional minefield. I ran straight into one, Richter sighed.
It was likely Beta also had a similarly tragic origin. Being confined here without normal interactions probably damaged them psychologically. Richter was simply an anomaly because he could rely on his past life, but these children haven't had a normal education. Undoing the damage caused by Cerberus might be impossible for him.
Beta returned, limping on his own. The damage wasn't serious enough where he would be unable to continue training. Richter suggested they all grab dinner together. Trying to build a team was a good start, he figured.
MSV Ironside, Sol System, 16 September 2169 CE
The MSV Ironside was a refurbished Alliance midsized frigate legally purchased by a Cerberus-fronted company. Originally, the main armaments were removed, leaving just the defensive GARDIAN lasers operational, however the organization's engineers outfitted the starship with a prototype mass accelerator cannon . The crew was largely former navy corpsmen hired by Cerberus to operate the vessel. Attached to the belly of the starship was a shuttle containing eight agents, waiting impatiently for the signal to detach.
Richter held on to a bar above the shuttle's door for balance, squeezing it a little too tightly. His heel tapped the ground furiously, as if trying to maintain a beat. Nevada stood opposite of him, obviously eavesdropping on the Ironside's transmissions with Gagarin Station. The others sat in the chairs, not requiring the same lead his team would.
"Looks like we're good, detaching now," Nevada gave a lopsided smile and clicked his helmet on, "Keep calm, eyes open and don't fall behind."
"Understood," Richter was nervous, but probably not for the reasons Nevada suspected.
Several minutes passed and their shuttle slowed to docking speeds. Richter patted the pistol on his leg for his own mental comfort. Hissing signaled the end of the docking procedure. He decreased his own mass, a technique he tested during the practice runs. It allowed him to sprint at speeds unreachable under normal gravity. Fires of biotic energy swirled about him. His heart beat pumped in his ears. Time felt slowed as he waited for the door to swing open. The door hatch withdrew and like the wind, they blew through the shuttle doors.
Richter launched himself after Nevada but he stumbled head first in the air. The station's low gravity and his lowered mass meant his sprint sent him airborne. His body rotated midair, his feet facing toward the ceiling. As he drifted to the ground, he pushed his palm onto the floor, like a twisting cartwheel, and brought his feet back down. The maneuver righted his orientation and he cut off his biotics. Momentum carried him back to pace, but the gymnastics cost him valuable time.
Nevada bore down on the first dock worker, the man's skull flattened against the hard floor. There were more than two in the room, but they were still shocked from two armored personnel attacking them.
Richter quickly closed the distance with the second worker. The man's eyes widen as he leapt, knee first, into the innocent worker's face. Bones cracked and the man's facial profile collapsed with the hit. Feeling the damage, his stomach lurched. These people weren't mechs and Richter didn't want to kill any of them, especially if he was going to seek refuge here. But he couldn't play his hand yet, so he whispered a silent apology and vaulted after the next worker.
The next dock worker saw his approach and threw his arms in front of his face, while a terror filled scream escaped his mouth. Richter dashed below the man's raised arms, close into his torso. His augmented muscles, products of genetic manipulation, tensed like thick rope around his body. Like a depressed coil, he released the pressure and viciously uppercut into the man's jaw. Perhaps due to the low gravity, the man's feet left the ground and his body crashed into the floor.
"Delta, that's all of them" Nevada stood over another an unmoving body. "Move!"
"Dock clear. Four rabbits. Heading to next objective," Nevada said in a dead sprint.
Their pace was blistering, pushing him to his limits. He was breathing hard under his mask from the sustained peak exertion. The halls were quiet and showed no additional activity. Their infiltration was perfectly timed to be during the station's largely inactive fourth shift. Records showed that the biotic students would be awake but still in their quarters. However that assumption was now dead in the water. Following the intimately familiar route, they were only two turns away from their goal before hitting an unexpected obstacle. Nevada skid to a halt, his armored boots grinding against the floor.
"Turians," he growled. Blocking their path stood around twenty human children with two turians at the very back of the group. Nevada's sudden stop to prevent barreling into the group drew their attention.
"Now look at this, you two don't look like you belong," an armored turian's flanged voice echoed against the walls.
"Get behind me, quickly children," the shorter turian, its smaller crest identifying her as a female, ushered the group behind her. Richter raised an eyebrow at that, he didn't expect turians to be protective of humans. By all accounts, these were mercenaries with no attachments to the humans they trained. The children either seem confused or scared and shuffled behind them into another room.
"We've hit two snakes and some mice, get ready for alert," Nevada spat into the radio and pulled his rifle off the hard-point on his back.
"It's been years since I've been able to kill a human. I'm going to enjoy this," the armored one taunted.
"Delta, they're not armed. You take the small one," Nevada sent a burst of accurate fire into its chest, causing its shield to flare to life.
Richter unholstered his pistol but he hesitated. This could be his chance. If he turned on Nevada and surrendered, it might work. His contemplation cost him. A sledge hammer of force hit him square in his chest, launching him skyward. Spooling biotic energy, he braced himself and generated a pulling force below him. Both his feet and one hand slid against the floor, absorbing the excess momentum.
The female turian closed distance, its long predator-like legs covering considerable ground with each stride. She launched a frontal kick aimed at his chest. He spun, barely dodging the blow. Utilizing the centrifugal force, he completed the rotation and sent a backhand toward the extended leg. Deflected by his blow, her leg landed to her side. Using that leg as a pivot, she twisted and launched a back kick with the opposite leg. Unable to block the blow, her heel smashed into his helmet and sent him to the ground. The biotically enhanced force crushed the helmet and the redundant cameras ceased functioning. Ripping off his helmet, he rose and tossed it the side.
Blood matted the brown hair on the side of his head, dripping slowly down his neck. The female turian seemed surprised and didn't resume her attack.
"Why are you here child?" She asked, her voice soft but still carried the characteristic gravely quality.
Should he tell her? Ask for protection? He looked for Nevada, but the fighting over there had stopped. He was on his back without his rifle, immobile. The armored turian, now armed with Nevada's rifle, pointed it at the downed man.
"Vyrnnus, don't kill him. We need to find out what they're after," the female demanded, her head turned to address the other.
"We only need one of them for that," the turian called Vyrnnus raised the rifle to his shoulder and aimed down the sights.
Before he realized what he was doing, Richter erected a barrier around Nevada. His amplifier burned in his neck as it absorbed the barrage of fire. He dashed past the female turian and fired at Vyrnnus. The pistol rounds didn't penetrate its shield but caused him to change his target to Richter. Bullets bounced into his shield, but he couldn't risk stopping. He hurled himself at the turian as his shield flickered out, concentrating biotic force in his fist. Repeating a movement he only did once before, he closed his fist and slammed it into its face.
An explosion of chaotic energy rippled from the core of his hand. Vyrnnus howled as his face plate cracked. His mandibles bended outwards unnaturally, tearing painfully from his face. Richter yelled, replacing the pain with anger, as his fist turned into tattered shreds. The turian stopped convulsing and fell backward, taking Richter to the ground with him. Retrieving the rifle from the turian's dead hands, Richter held it at his hip with his good hand. His destroyed hand hung useless at his side.
He swung the rifle towards the female, who still remained in a combat stance, watching. Keeping his eyes on her, he bit the finger of his glove and pulled it off. Blood that was pooling inside poured like a small red waterfall. He needed to tourniquet it soon. To make matters worse, a station-wide alarm blared.
"What? If you want to kill me, go ahead and try. Maybe you could kill me, but my bets on station security getting here first," she placed her hands on her wide boney hips.
"Not going to avenge that one?" Richter grunted, tilting his head towards the corpse.
"Vyrnnus should have listened. We weren't friends," she seemed unafraid. Richter probably couldn't win if she decided to attack.
"I'm taking my partner and leaving," his breathing was shallow and labored. He needed to hurry and couldn't call for help without his helmet. Even if he surrendered now, he couldn't play the innocence card any longer.
"Answer one question first," her voice was firm, "who owns you?"
"Cerberus," he didn't care if she knew. Cerberus would probably claim responsibility anyway. He lifted Nevada's unconscious mass and pushed him as one might a shopping cart. He didn't turn his back to the turian until she was no longer in sight. His vision was blurry, blood seeped into his left eye. Attaching the assault rifle to the hardpoint on his back, he fumbled his hand into the man's pouches until he found a medigel applicator. Taking a calming breath, he pressed it hard into the strips of skin and flesh on his injured hand. That problem temporary solved, he needed Nevada to wake up and radio the others. He shook him roughly, but he remained still.
Omni-tool, that's right, he thought. Searching again, he located the device's releasing clamp and flipped it. Bracing it against his thigh, he slid it on and powered the device. Switching the input to audio commands only, he brought his wrist close to his face.
"Main, hardsuit, interface, radar," he commanded as he continued his way down the route. An orange projection sprung from the device, beacons lighting up on the station's schematics. Thankfully they hadn't left the station yet, the assault force still moved in the student dormitories.
"Back, comm-link, all," he verbalized the additional commands and opened up the radio. Chatter immediately resonated from the device.
"We hit contact at the shuttle bay, expect resistance during withdrawal," said Utah.
"We've got several mice and three snakes, coming back to you. Wyoming, cover the rear," Colorado barked over the net.
"This is Delta, we're moving back down the route. Nevada is down," he replied over the net.
"Hurry your ass up. If you don't make it to the shuttlebay in five, we're leaving you here."
Richter quickened his pace as best he could, nearing the assault team's location. Volleys of fire exchanged between the assault team and an ever-growing group of station security. Not seeing Gamma, he checked the radar and saw her beacon moving to the shuttle.
Two massive singularities manifested in the air. Looking for the source, he heard Beta screaming. His standing form cloaked in biotic energy. Both of his arms extended outward towards the blackened masses. Red stains spotted his uniform.
"Beta! Stop!" Wyoming yelled as he was being pulled toward the large gravity wells.
Beta couldn't hear him or was ignoring him. Furniture, small objects and several of the security staff floated into the masses. The men were ruthlessly shot by Colorado as they remained suspended midair.
An explosion rocked the ground and the singularities dissipated from the air. Objects and bodies fell like rain back to the ground. Smoke rose from the decapitated body of Beta. Richter froze and felt goosebumps crawl up his face like an army of ants. He scanned for mines, grenades or other explosives, but he couldn't find any.
A light blinked on the omni-tool, he pulled up the alert.
Beta countermeasure activated.
Nothing else accompanied the message. Nothing else needed to. He wanted to kick himself, thinking he could just walk away and not face any resistance. Cerberus must have implanted explosives during the surgery in case one of them went rogue.
Bastards.
He looked at the man he saved, someone he trusted to some extent. Half of him regretted not letting the turian kill him, the other half wanted to kill him right now and blame it on the enemy.
No, that wouldn't help, he realized. Maybe he could this rescue to his advantage, prove his loyalty to Cerberus, and convince them to remove the explosives. Pushing the suspended body of Nevada, he hurried to the shuttle bay.
Corpses lined the route, strangely none of them had any bullet wounds. The work of Gamma on her way back, he suspected. A clear route was good, he was not in the condition to fight anyone.
"Coming in hot, rabbits pursuing. Ready launch," Colorado spoke.
Passing Epsilon and Utah, he entered the shuttle. It was packed, numerous scared looking children and teenagers clustered near back. Some were crying and the older ones were trying to calm them. On the opposite end of the shuttle were three bloodied turian forms and Gamma. He lowered Nevada to the ground near her.
"Guessing things didn't go as planned," Gamma's helmet was retracted back as she gulped down a calorie-rich energy drink.
"Beta's dead," he told her as he fell into the seat next to her.
"Happens," if she felt anything, she didn't show it.
"It wasn't the enemy that killed him," he closed his eyes and leaned his head back. Breathing was taking too much effort. The local anesthetic was wearing off and small movement sent jolts of pain up his arm. He felt hands tie something tight around his elbow.
"Doesn't look good," She said softly. For his hand or their situation, he wanted to ask.
A storm of boots stomping into the shuttle preceded the metal on metal clash of the closing shuttle door. Epsilon took the seat next to him. The internal compensators only cushioned the sudden acceleration of the shuttle, causing a pile of children to roll across the floor. Unable to cope with the force, he leaned into Epsilon, causing her to slightly jump.
"Are you okay?" Her worried voice said quickly. "What happened?"
"I'll survive," Richter didn't have the energy to recount the fight.
"Did Beta also get hurt? I don't see him anywhere," her helmet turned left and right, scanning the main cabin.
"He's dead, Epsilon," he bluntly told her. She went quiet for several moments.
"H-how..." she started sobbing quietly. He felt her chest quake against his side.
She might be the most normal one out of them all, Richter thought. He was more shocked learning about the implanted explosives leashing them to Cerberus, than one of his comrades getting killed. Beta didn't deserve his fate.
Colorado returned from the cockpit and walked towards the three biotics. Scars on the armor indicated the assault team also hit heavy resistance.
"Delta, where's your helmet?" Colorado asked, tossing a rebreather at him.
"It broke during the fight with the turians," he pointed to the gash on his head.
"Use that," he motioned to the rebreather. "We'll debrief when we arrive. I'll call up the medic to look at the hand and assess Nevada."
Richter bit onto the mouthpiece and Gamma slid her face plate back down seeing smoke fill the cabin. One by one, the children fell asleep after inhaling in the gas. Cerberus now had over forty biotic children to turn into weapons. They were supposed to be released when BAaT discontinued operation, now they'll be slaves to Cerberus like he was. Richter lost count of how many sins he had committed at this point. Smoke cleared the cabin and he realized he would have to add another sin to the list. He recognized one of the faces in the group. It was younger than he remembered but the squared jaw and black hair was evidence enough.
Kaidan Alenko was laying no less than two meters from his feet.
A/N: Happy New Years to all my readers. As always, appreciate the PMs and words of encouragement. Pace may slow down due to work and other responsibilities.