When a Plan Comes Together Part 2
"Damn it! We got about a dozen fights going on. All units within sector six immediately move to quell the situations, now!"
With Tarlan at his side, Zaael glanced to his left. The two guards had left their post in front of the main doors of the security station, moving downstairs, where a group of five krogan were providing the distraction down below. Turning his head, Zaael could see Ferrin down below, working his hands into a wall panel in a secluded corner. The quarian below stuck out his stubby thumb, where he lost half of it in a knife fight, showing it to the waiting Zaael above.
"That's it." He nodded somberly, "Go go go!"
Tarlan darted to the now unlocked door to the security station, Zaael at his heels. Both quarians entered to find two security technicians sitting in seats, their backs to the intruding aliens. When the door shut behind them, both prisoners pounced. Tarlan drew his blade, while Zaael simply approached and snapped the man's neck with his bare hands.
It felt good to kill one of these cruel bastards. At least, that's what Tarlan felt. Six years of this shit and he finally got back at one of these guys.
Zaael felt nothing as the now-dead techie fell out of his seat and onto the floor. He didn't enjoy killing. It was only means to an end, to him. Without getting too philosophical, the quarian slid into the seat, Tarlan doing the same. Their long fingers went to work, opening up the security systems.
"We're in." Tarlan grunted with satisfaction. "Going through defense measures, see if I can block them out."
Zaael nodded as he prepared for the onslaught of counter-measures that were sure to come. Each station had a regular checkup scan every two minutes or so, meaning that once the guards found out one of their stations went dark, they'd try to lock it out. The quarian was going to make sure that didn't happen.
"Focus on the air filters first, make sure we can lock down this wing. I don't feel like running out of oxygen."
"I got it, I got it." Tarlan dismissed. He had already locked down the filters for this wing, ensuring breathable air for the next few hours at least. Internal VIs had already detected the quarian's intrusion though, and locked him out of anything outside their own area. "Shit, they've started to block us."
"Compensating." Zaael muttered as he released what he liked to call 'hunter-killer programs. Basically, beefed-up viruses. Ordering the digital plague with a flick of his three fingers, the virus wrapped its thralls around one of the VIs and erased it bit by bit. He grinned.
It was a simple matter of keep away now; just hold off the security measures until Tarlan managed to get the defenses offline and cracking the armory doors open, where Shepard, Carrick, and the other big players of the breakout were waiting.
Clapping his hands together, Tarlan hooted with excitement, "Got the turrets offline! Working on the armory doors now…" His fingers darted over the holographic panels as his ally kept any VI countermeasures at bay. Two minutes later he hollered behind his mask with pride, "Doors are open!"
"All right, grab their omni-tools and guns. Let's go!"
"So, Carrick. What do the tattoos on your arms mean?"
Running a wrinkled hand through his gray hair, the inmate turned to the man next to him, a brow raised, "Is this really the time for questions?"
Shepard shrugged as he leaned against the wall, his eyes fixated on Keelan, who was keeping his silver eyes locked on the armory door, still locked. The two guards that usually stood by were called away, Zarr's krogan causing a ruckus a couple rooms away. Glancing towards Halach and Lankos at the far side of the mess hall, the Commander continued, "Why not? We got a few more minutes before all hell breaks loose."
A half-smile broke over Carrick's stony expression, "You got a point. See these tats right here?" He pointed a meaty finger at the designs that resembled unit patches from some military group. "These are from my home colony, a world long dead now. Our job was to protect the planet's assets, mostly fossil fuels." Scratching his chin, Carrick's half-smile blossomed into a full grin. "But me and my group of men broke off, 'bout a hundred of us. Formed our own alliance and began raiding, stealing the fuel and selling them for profit. Made a pretty paycheck before nuclear war broke out, but we were long gone before it happened."
His smile disappeared. "I watched from orbit as my own colony destroyed itself, partially thanks to us. Without the fuel, governments turned on each other, and before long… the bombs fell." His voice turned to a growl, "Without a teat to suck on, most people fall into chaos. Seen it happen a dozen times over." Wrapping around Shepard's collar, Carrick's large hand yanked the Spectre in. "Don't let it happen here."
Before Shepard could respond, Keelan gave a high-pitched whistle, followed by his eager words, "Doors are open!"
Lankos huffed as he turned for the hall, "Looks like you quarians are useful after all."
Both humans marched towards the now-open armory, along with their alien allies. Zarr would join them shortly, since he was preoccupied with setting up the distractions for the guards.
Halach quietly sorted out his fifteen men, all strong turians, all with previous military service. The officer simply marched into the armory and calmly dolled out weapons, thermal clips, armor, and rebreathers to his men. The majority of the gear in here was meant for turians, so Halach's men were easily equipped for a firefight.
Sorting through the lockers, Carrick found to his surprise, human gear. The armor was ancient stuff, no kinetic barriers, but it was better than just a jumpsuit. Throwing a helmet to Shepard, Carrick snapped the torso sections into place over his frame.
It was going to be a tight fit, but it would do.
Lankos managed to supply the group with five batarians, and as he said himself, they were probably the best shots in the whole prison. Too bad he hasn't seen a Spectre in action.
Almost completely giddy with excitement, Keelan found the one thing that was promised within this armory. Explosives. Lots of them. Upon the very far wall, secured inside a locker, were grenades, rocket launchers, and blocks upon blocks of plastic explosives.
These guys were prepared for war, not guard duty.
He raced over and immediately tried to pry open the door, but it was sealed shut. Shepard came over to assist, but it still wouldn't budge.
"Heh, always weak."
Both turned to find Zarr standing behind them, a grin over his lips. The krogan plodded forward and shoved Keelan and Shepard out of the way. Rearing his head back, Zarr cracked down on the locker with the brunt of his scarred head crest, crushing the door. Taking a step back, he rolled his neck, letting each vertebrae pop before the alien simply ripped the door off.
Blood red eyes fell upon Keelan, "That's how you get through doors."
"Like to see you get through a bulkhead like that…" Keelan grumbled as he yanked a belt of grenades of the wall and wrapped it around his waist. A bandolier of even more grenades came, followed by a rocket launcher, which he simply threw on his back. Stuffing a block of plastic explosives in a small pack, Keelan turned to Shepard and nodded.
"I'm all set."
Halach turned, donning armor usually worn by the guards, rebreather covering his face. He nodded to the turians behind him, rifles in their hands and armor over their frames. "My men are ready too, Shepard."
The batarians had pistols and shotguns at the ready. Lankos simply nodded, his brown skin flared a light purple, showing off barely contained energy.
Grabbing a rifle off the wall, Shepard marched towards the front and faced his men. His eyes darted back and forth before he spoke, "You've all been in here for too long. If you want freedom, then you have to work together. The last attempt failed because the humans and turians refused to work with each other. If you want to escape, if you want to survive, then look to your left and right…"
Aliens and humans alike glanced at each other, with skeptic eyes at first, but it gave way to necessity. Like or not, they all needed each other.
The Commander continued, "…These are your brothers now. They are your lifeline, and you're theirs."
Zarr nodded slowly, his stubby fingers put a death-grip around the shotgun he received. A toothy grin returned to the krogan. He was ready not just to escape, but to kill.
Shepard made a mental note to watch him.
"Move out."
"How many ships are out there? Who are they from?"
Commander Derej of the Black Talon frigate Baetika replied sullenly, as if afraid. "Alliance vessels, Captain. Four frigates, based off of the old Normandy SR-1. They just breached the relay on the outskirts of the system. Orders, sir?"
How the hell did any ship, let along human Alliance ships, get through the Oraka Gateway? Only Talon operatives could unlock it. The Captain growled back, "How many ships do we have in system, right now?"
"Six of our frigates, two cruisers, and the dreadnought Huratan."
"Get them into position on our side of the planet, and give those ships one warning to leave. If not, blow them out of the sky."
Derej hesitated, and then shakily replied, "Sir, these are Alliance ships! If we attack, this could start a war!"
He didn't have time for this. "Derej, you are under my command, not the Hierarchy's! Get the ships in position! Is that clear?"
"Yes…sir." He grumbled before shutting the channel.
Sighing with relief, Farrax welcomed the silence, not just to his ears but to his mind as well. It had left him alone for the past few minutes, of course, any time without that thing in his head was a relief. He wished he never took the job to find Shepard, to never get on that derelict freighter, and never to find that abomination waiting for him. His eyes drifted slowly to the pistol that sat on his desk. It was fully charged and clean. Ready to fire. The Captain gave a grim chuckle as his hand fell on the weapon.
Humans say suicide can be painless… Farrax thought as he brought the gun to his head, a lone finger wrapped around the trigger. Let's hope they're right.
His finger froze, and not to his own accord.
Put the weapon away.
Farrax screamed, his mandibles flaring with rage. His own mind retorted, the small section that was still free from this monster's influence.
No! If this is the only way to stop you…I will!
A mocking chuckle filled his brain. You are a fool. If you could, you would have done so. You remain because we wish it.
Farrax didn't respond. What could he say? Before he realized it, his arm worked against him, forcing the gun back to the desk, his strong hand released its grip.
A beep from Farrax's terminal raised the Captain from his stupor.
Answer it.
Farrax still struggled against the influence, however weakly. No…
Answer!
His sharp talons slapped down on the terminal. "What is it?"
It was one of his sergeants who replied, "Sir? We just lost contact with the entire west wing. Someone's hacked the system, and I can't get in touch with any of the guards in that sector."
Shepard's cell was within the west wing.
"Lock down every door entering and exiting that wing! I want security systems online."
The sergeant's voice became distant as he dolled out the orders to fellow guards, only for his voice to rise in alarm. He reluctantly turned back to his radio and spoke into fearfully. "Uh, sir? We got a minor problem. It seems that our security systems within the wing are…inactive at the moment."
"The hell do you mean by inactive?" Farrax's fist slammed against his desk before he darted to his feet. "What the hell does Warden Tordun train you for?" Approaching the door, Farrax screamed into his radio before shutting it off. "Vent the air from the prison."
"Which sections, Captain?"
"All of them."
"Do they know we're here?"
Joker tapped on his screen, disregarding the radar that just showed multiple Black Talon ships moving up from the planet, straight towards them. A simple 'no' was the only reply that the nervous Tali got from the pilot. Stealth systems were engaged, this time before they were detected by these Talons. Joker was going to make sure that would never happen again.
"And you're sure?" The quarian nervously warbled, her eyes stared over the pilot's slim shoulder to find that the ships were moving towards them. "Because they coming right at us."
EDI warned of a turian dreadnought being detected, by Joker throttled the engines regardless. "The Alliance was right on our ass. They're probably coming out the relay right now, with no stealth systems online. That's probably what's bringing these guys up from the planet."
"But if they attack the humans…" Grunt rumbled slowly, "Then won't it start a war between your two species?"
"A big one. Bigger than the First Contact War." Miranda stated nervously, knowing a war would shatter political and economic relations with turians for centuries to come, which could turn Citadel Space into a war zone.
"We'll get by them, don't worry." Joker reassured as he glanced towards EDI's panel. "EDI, start scanning that planet. Let's find out where this prison is."
SSV Khe Sanh.
"Captain! Multiple contacts!" Yuri shouted as his screen lit up with new pings. The largest one being a dreadnought.
"I know, I know." Kortus responded as he stood over his pilot, his dark eyes staring at the same screens. "Just keep your fingers away from the trigger and we should be fine." The Captain nervously shifted and wiped away imaginary dust from the shoulders of his uniform.
Something wasn't right. They just arrived in this system and already there were ships laying in wait for them. If you wanted peace, you didn't send a dreadnought out to greet you.
The voice of Lieutenant Crowe filled the man's ears. "Sir. Should we be getting nervous?"
Kortus returned his best smile. He had read Crowe's file. This kid hadn't actually been in real ship-to-ship combat, or any combat rather. He was held highly for being the son of General Franklin Crowe, an old war hero who had his son pulled through the Alliance with only a few true ground jobs. Crowe's only true combat experience, minus the realistic simulators on Arcturus Station, was on Eden Prime, not a few days ago. And this guy was leading the massive ground team, if it came to that.
"We'll be fine. Just keep your head on straight, Lieutenant." Kortus nodded as he turned back to the screen. "Yuri, bring up the bow cams and open up comms with the Marathon."
Images of the approaching turian craft appeared on the Khe Sanh's main screen. Gleaming pearl white hulls lit up the darkness of space. Frigates, the cruisers, and the dreadnought all had black designs tracing down their hulls, resembling claw marks. Navigator Willis ordered for a remote scan of the Talon vessels, only to learn their signals were being jammed.
Perfect. Now they had no idea what these things were packing.
"This is Rear Admiral Ozawa of the Marathon. Go ahead, Captain Kortus."
"Ma'am," Kortus began as he glanced out the viewport, showing that the Admiral's frigate had taken the lead in their small formation, with the Thermopylae and Yorktown bringing up the rear, "these ships are blocking our scans. We don't know what we're up against."
"We're going up against warships, Captain." Ozawa stated matter-of-factly, her voice practically dripping with the casual admiral 'I've seen it all' tone. "They're going to be armed to the teeth, as are we."
Crowe spoke up, "But ma'am, we're outnumbered here, and obviously outclassed. Our best calculations have us making only two kills before that dreadnought blows us off the map."
"Hopefully this won't turn hot, but warm up an FTL comm back to the Socrates just in case."
Doug shook his head and grumbled, "I'm tired of hearing this bull. These guys don't look like that peacemaking type."
Randy shot a harsh glare at the soldier before ordering Willis to get FTL comms ready.
SSV Marathon.
"Ma'am! Lead frigate is pinging us, requesting we open up ship-to-ship communications immediately. Orders?"
Akane Ozawa gritted her teeth as she wrung and twisted the cap in her hands. Sweat dripped down her back as she glared out into space, the turian ships getting bigger and bigger as they approached. They were in the first cruiser's kill zone now, with the second one not far behind. Plus it was only a matter of a few minutes before the dreadnought could do the same.
"Open up comms, Lieutenant."
"Aye aye, ma'am." The young male replied with a nod, his blue eyes locked in on his screen as he opened up the communications line with the lead Talon frigate. "This is the Alliance frigate SSV Marathon, please respond."
After ten brief seconds of static, a gruff turian voice replied, "Alliance vessel, this is system is restricted to all outsiders. You are in violation of several protocols established by the Turian Hierarchy and the Citadel Council."
"And the illegal kidnapping of a former Alliance officer and current Council Spectre carries its own weight in violations as well." Ozawa retorted calmly but did little to hide the distaste she had for aliens, especially the avian-like turians. To her, they were murderous and violent, preferring to bomb things to hell instead of negotiations. They started the First Contact War by attacking the exploring human vessels instead of communicating with them.
Silence over the comms prompted the Rear Admiral to continue, "We know that one Commander Shepard is being held on that planet, in some sort of prison. We want him released, immediately."
Turians were disgusting. When Eden Prime was attacked, the Council barely lifted a finger, and humanities so-called turian allies did very little for the struggling colonists after the geth assault. They just continued business as usual. At least the asari and salarian councilors offered their condolences, the turian couldn't care less.
"Miss, we highly advise that your vessels return through the relay and take up a formal complaint with the Hierarchy. Our records show no man by the name of Shepard."
"You can tell that lie to your crewmates, turian. But don't lie to me." Ozawa warned. "We want this meeting to be as non-violent as possible. We just want our man."
The line cut abruptly, and the pilot shouted as his screen clogged up with warnings, "Ma'am! We've just been painted!"
Shit.
"Evasive maneuvers! Get me a firing solution and have damage control teams at the ready!"
Randy watched as the Marathon nosed hard to starboard as the first turian cruiser unleashed its main gun. A long, orange ray of light raced through the inky black vacuum and fried the frigate's shields, quickly tearing into the hull. Fire rushed out the new gashes along the hull before the beam severed the farthest engine on the left side of the Marathon.
Panicked transmissions came from the Yorktown's crew, "Marathon is hit! Repeat, she's hit! Lost engine two on the port side."
Without the thrust provided from any one of a frigate's engines, maneuverability and speed were drastically reduced. The Marathon was practically dead in the water.
Navigator Willis hissed into the FTL comm, "This is battle group alpha! Hostile contacts, repeat, hostile contacts! Requesting immediate assistance!"
The calm voice of Admiral Hackett replied, "Roger that. Section two of Fifth Fleet is coming in. ETA two minutes."
Kortus took control, plan already in his head. "Yorktown and Thermopylae, form up to my rear and make a wolf pack". Both frigates acknowledged and maneuvered towards the Khe Sanh's rear. They couldn't do much for the Marathon except draw attention away from it, which was what the Captain exactly planned on doing.
The three frigates formed an arrowhead and flared their engines, rocketing towards the lead Talon vessel.
"Arm torpedoes." Kortus ordered as the Talon frigate brought its nose up to meet the approaching Alliance vessels.
"Torpedoes armed, sir."
"All ships open fire."
The Khe Sanh rattled as it released a volley of projectiles and pulled upwards sharply, both the other two frigates doing the same. Shields flaring with impact after impact, the Talon frigate's kinetic barrier overloaded and failed, the final few Alliance torpedoes tore through the upper decks of the craft, explosions raced throughout the innards of the ship. It lazily listed to port before its engine cores went critical, shearing the vessel in half with a violent detonation.
Kortus grinned as sweat began to drip from his black hair. Good, these Talon ships weren't as highly touted as their infantry was.
Multiple alarm sirens pierced Yuri's headset, "Captain, we've been pinged by the remainder of the ships, including the dreadnought!"
"All ships break formation!" Kortus demanded, "Don't give them an easy shot and keep them away from the Marathon."
Randy ran to an open comm station and tried to hail the crippled frigate, only to get silence as his response. He tried again, and still didn't get anything. The hull rattled as the impact of an enemy torpedo cracked against the kinetic barriers of the frigate, but the shielding held. Suddenly, Randy's stomach jerked sharply to the left, indicating that Yuri was dodging more incoming fire.
"New contacts coming in through the relay." A bridge techie shouted, her eyes locked in on her glowing terminal, casting an orange hue over her blue uniform. "IFF reads they're Fifth Fleet."
The voice of Captain Hannah Shepard filled the ears of every man and woman on the bridges of all three frigates. "All frigates, give the Orizaba a firing solution. Cruisers, take out priority targets and distract that dreadnought. Fighters, take out its shields."
"All Hornets, on me! Arm disrupter torpedoes and stay on my ass, we're hitting that dreadnought!" Flight Commander Lewis Mullin ordered with a grin as he throttled his fighter. Glancing out towards his left, he saw the rest of his flight with him. The 809th Fighter Wing, the 'Mighty Mighty Hornets.'
Each vessel was painted the usual red and white of an Alliance fighter, but each pilot was charged with painting on their own little yellow and black hornet. It set a mentality for each pilot, get in quick, sting the enemy, and get the hell out.
Mullin pressed into the back of his seat as the squadron passed by the Orizaba, who was preparing her main gun to rip the opposing dreadnought a new one. But first, it was up to the Hornets, and three other fighter squadrons -each at the strength of two dozen fighters each- to take out the big bastard's shielding.
Chunks of metal pinged off his fighter's hull, most likely pieces of the wounded Marathon. Mullin passed by the floating ship and received a quick assessment from his heads-up display.
Damage: Severe.
Thrust Capabilities: Minimal.
Kinetic Barriers: Ten Percent.
Status of Crew: Unknown.
Mullin grimaced. Not the best damage report he's ever read, but at least getting one was better than flying past a completely destroyed ship, like he had so many times when the geth attacked the Citadel. Dead husks of vessels that were the pride of navies floated uselessly in zero-g, sheets of metal was what usually remained. It was also the first time the Flight Commander saw corpses upon corpses strewn throughout space, lifeless. It was haunting to see valiant captains and servicemen frozen stiff from the cold. Simply imagining such a fate left ice running up and down his spine.
Tearing his view away from the Marathon, Mullin pulled his eyes towards his objective. The turian dreadnought now filled his HUD, and the grin returned to his cheeks, "All right Hornets, fast and hard!"
Shoving the flight stick towards his feet, his fighter dove for the starboard bow of the dreadnought, where all along the hull anti-aircraft fire came to life. Bullets silently screamed past the cockpit. Red beams of light from GARDIAN lasers traced across the inky black, searching for pesky fighters to kill.
Easily dodging these countermeasures, Mullin yanked back on the trigger, releasing a volley of torpedoes. A few were struck by the dreadnoughts lasers, but the majority slammed against the shields, casting bright white, flaring ripples across the protective shell. Yanking back on the stick, his craft evened out and pulled away. Excited hoots from the other pilots filled his headset, showing their volleys hit as well.
He reorganized his squadron and ordered another run, turning back for the dreadnought. Off in the distance, Mullin could make out the Chicago blowing away a turian cruiser, its white hull blackened with fire before it almost shattered. Then the Alliance cruiser simply plowed through its remains, almost throwing the lazily drifting sections of hull out of its path.
Flares of red washed over Mullin's left wing, rocking the small fighter and pulling the pilot out of his stupor. His HUD flashed a warning across his eyes.
Damage to left rudder and ailerons. Compensating.
While his eyes were locked in on the now-flaming part of his fighter, out of the corner of his eye, the Flight Commander he saw as an ally fighter about fifty or so yards away was incinerated. Then another, then another.
Shit. They're getting good…Mullin assessed grimly. His hand flew to his controls, opening up a channel with the SSV Yorktown.
"Yorktown? This is squadron eight-oh-nine, requesting a run on that dreadnought. Help us drop her shields, over."
"Already on it, eight-oh-nine. Keep your eyes on the sky, over."
Mullin's eyes darted up, to find the four white-hot engines of the Yorktown overhead. They flared with acceleration, leaving the fighters in its wake. Lighting up with a blue orb of energy, the nose of the Yorktown discharged two slugs from its main gun. The rounds smashed into the dreadnought's failing shields, punching through them like paper before smashing into the hull. Plumes of orange jettisoned from the new holes in the vessel, melting away entire sections of the white armor.
But the dreadnought managed to fire off its main gun once, and the shields the Yorktown had couldn't hold back the blast. The frigate was sheared in half, straight down the middle from bow to stern. Her momentum carried, though, and what was left of the ship carried right into the turian dreadnought's hull.
Entire sections of the alien vessel's hull came off in a violent blast, nearly blinding Mullin.
Panicked voices filled the pilot's head.
"What the hell just happened!"
"We just lost the Yorktown!"
"Anyone see any escape pods?"
Mullin grimaced as he ordered for his fighters to head back through the relay, back to the Socrates. He prepared to pull away from the destruction, but something cracked against his craft, jarring the pilot around in his seat. A loud pop followed, and then a deafening boom as his fighter nosed over, straight for the dreadnought. His HUD flashed another warning.
Critical Damage! Critical Damage!
Engines: Compromised.
Loss of Control Likely.
Grunting with annoyance, Mullin yanked as hard as he could on the flight stick, but his fighter refused to respond. The burning hull of the turian ship came closer, and the impact forced Mullin's head right into the controls.
Everything went dark.
When his vision returned, all the pilot felt was pain in his leg and a throbbing forehead. The cockpit glass was cracked, but not breached. He wasn't moving, not anymore. He was stationary.
His tiny fighter had come to a stop on top of the dreadnought's hull. His ship was dead, engines fried. Plus the impact probably killed any remaining systems.
"So it's gonna be like that, huh?" The Commander grumbled as he unclipped his helmet.
"This is Captain Shepard, any word on that dreadnought's shields?"
Mullin's eyes found the human cruisers pulling away, and the Orizaba in the distance, laying in wait. Her main gun was ready to fire, to annihilate anything in its path. Grinning, Mullin nodded slowly.
A damn fine way to die. Better than old age.
He brought a hand to his headset and spoke, the smile never leaving his face, "This is Flight Commander Mullin, the shields are down, Orizaba. Blow this fucker away."
The Alliance battleship's main gun lit up immediately, sending a twenty kilo slug that had force equal to three times that of Hiroshima's city buster into the turian dreadnought.
A flash of white blinded the pilot, and then there was nothing.
But his smile never died.
"Crowe, get your strike team planetside, now!"
Randy was already in action though. "Chicago, dock with the Marathon and get every crewmate out of there. Thermopylae and Yorktown, on me. Get your marines ready for a hot drop."
Captain Kortus cut in, "We just got a status report, the Yorktown's gone. Completely destroyed."
"Damn it." There was well over a hundred and fifty marines on board, not even counting the crew.
"Lieutenant!" The officer turned to find Ash running towards him, data-pad in her hand. "We just got a scan of the desert facility. You might want to see this."
Grabbing the device from his second-in-command, Randy's scanned its contents and grimaced. The prison facility had four offspring buildings a couple hundred meters from the main compound, one to the north, south, east, and west respectively. Each one had high-orbit scanners, and mid-range anti-aircraft guns.
So much for a hot drop in the Vulcans. His plan was to use the main force of marines as a large diversion, hopefully drawing out enough Talons to leave resistance inside at a minimum while they went after Shepard. Now it looks like this was going to have to be done the hard way.
"Belay previous order on the drop. We need a new game plan."
"Come on, Zaael, get that door open!" Shepard hollered, his rifle kicking into his shoulder as he dropped another charging prisoner. They practically had to fight their way through their own wing, with every prisoner not involved in the breakout trying to grab their guns. Shepard's little team had already lost two of Halach's turians, one nasty little krogan rushed them and killed the two aliens before anyone could've fired back.
"I'm trying! This is harder than it looks!" The quarian hissed as his hands deftly moved over the door panel. His omni-tool couldn't open up the metal portal, so he had to do it the old-fashioned way.
Two salarian prisoners rushed for the group of escapees, brandishing homemade blades. Already pissed off, Zarr threw his gun aside and charged for the amphibians with a roar. Two tiny salarians could do little to stop a charging krogan, as they were both thrown back several feet from the violent collision.
Ignoring pleas to take cover from Shepard and Carrick, Zarr went after the two non-humans, not even phased as the remaining guards within the wing -who were firing from up above on the second level- started to take potshots at the imposing krogan.
"Zarr! Get your stubby ass back here…" Carrick spat as he aimed for the guards above and snapped his finger back on the trigger. Blue blood spattered as a round connected with the first guard's head, painting the gray wall as the second guard ducked back into cover, much to the annoyance of Carrick.
Silently, Keelan simply tapped the priming button on one of his grenades and chucked it over. 'Chucked' was an inaccurate word though; the quarian more or less pitched the grenade across the room. It smacked against the wall and landed right between the sheltered guards legs, setting off a terrified scream, silenced by fire and shrapnel.
The burly alien pumped his fist, the cocky little smirk under his visor grew.
Zaael growled back to his team, "Got it. Let's move."
Zarr yet again ignored any and all pleas as he towered over the first salarian, still alive. The imposing alien wrapped his hand around the inmate's throat and lifted him into the air.
Shepard stormed over to the krogan, "Zarr, stand down!"
Paying no attention to the human's plea, the krogan crime lord growled at the amphibian he held in his hand… and snapped its neck. Throwing the corpse aside, the krogan came face to face with the Commander.
Zarr simply shrugged and started to walk around Shepard, only to have the human grab the alien and slam his forehead against Zarr's scarred crest. Taken aback, the blood red eyes narrowed in on the human.
How dare he…
Opening his mouth to berate the tiny human, Zarr was cut off as a foot snaked behind his own, and an elbow cracked against his jawbone. Before the krogan realized what the hell just happened, he was on the floor with a pistol being held a centimeter away from his left eye.
"You are under my command, krogan." Shepard hissed, his finger dangerously close to the trigger. "That means you follow my orders. If I tell you to stop, you stop. I tell you to move, you move. I tell you to pop a squat and take a shit, I better see you dropping your pants."
Zarr's amusement took over his anger. His chuckle filled the now-empty wing. "A human with a quad…and a sense of humor." Shoving the gun away from his eye, the calmed alien climbed to his feet and cracked his knuckles. "I like you, human, Shepard, whatever it is. I'll try to keep myself in check, at least until the blood rage comes in… then you stay outta my way."
"Guess I can ask much else from you, huh?"
Grunting, Zarr picked up his shotgun and ran for the door.
Halach and his turians would be the first to enter, since none of the other races involved had rebreathers. And like any good leader, Halach was in the front, leading his men. He nodded towards Zaael, who unlocked the door. A loud pop sounded off, followed by a hiss of air as the door to the next wing slid open.
"As long as we keep the doors open," Zaael explained as his hands wrapped around his pistol, "then the air will keep flowing."
Checking his rifle as the turians filed through the door and nervously asked, "What if the door closes on us?"
"I uploaded a little virus to their systems. A subtask for it keeps all doors open once someone unlocks them, while making all doors that are shut, stay shut."
Good to know. Didn't want to run out of air prematurely. Shepard shivered. He already knew what that felt like the first time, being trapped in the void of space with a breached suit.
"Jeff, I'm reading that the facility has at least four AA turrets within range of the prison."
"Thanks mom, for the umpteenth time." Joker sarcastically lamented. "Garrus has already got a plan, since I told him about it ten minutes ago."
"And why wasn't I informed, Mister Moreau?"
Jeez, here comes some more probing. Heh, 'probing,' kinda funny, since aliens make up half of the crew now. The pilot snapped out of his immature thoughts.
"Uh, because…"
"Because?" EDI pressed again, getting annoyed.
"Just because, EDI. Just because."
An audible 'humph' came from EDI, followed by an almost gleeful threat. "Well then, Jeff…it's time I dip into those old music files, then."
"Oh, come on!"
It was her voice, but it wasn't her. It had been nagging her ever since the EMP hit the Normandy days ago. When the blast happened, the convict felt like someone put her brain in a microwave and turned it on high. The implants in her head still hurt. Whatever was in her head now, it was playing games with her. Games she didn't like one bit.
You're practically an animal, girl. Face it. Only thing that makes you different is that you can walk on two legs.
Jack hissed back in the dark as she brought her knees to her chest, "Shut the fuck up! You don't know shit about me…"
Ha. Please. It replied. You murder for credits, you murder for the hell of it. You can barely tell what's right from wrong…Scratch that, you can't tell right from wrong.
"Fuck! You!" Jack shouted, shooting to her feet. Hands shaking with rage, the former prisoner barely even realized her biotics just flung a crate across the room, nearly hitting a waiting Tali. Jack's nostrils flared, "The hell do you want?"
"We need you up in the comm room…" Tali anxiously uttered, afraid of what Jack was going to do next. "Garrus is putting a team together for the infiltration."
Perfect. They need you yet again to bust Shepard's ass out of trouble. Well better get up there, animal.
Growling at the hostile voice, the woman spat on the ground and looked up at the obviously frightened quarian, "All right. Was getting bored down here anyways."
"So here's what we'll do." Garrus started out as Jack and Tali entered the room. "With the help of Commander Falan here," he tapped the captive Talon on the shoulder before turning back to the holo-screen, which displayed a layout of the prison, "I've been able to figure out our best point of entry."
His finger found a small rooftop near the center of the jail. "We'll land one of our shuttles here, and with a small team, we'll head in and get the Commander."
The former cop turned to his crew. "I'll lead this op, since I've worked in a few prisons before, C-Sec requirement. Grunt?"
The perfect krogan lifted his head, delighted that his name was called.
"You're our heavy hitter. Our pointman." Garrus nodded towards Tali and Legion, "You'll be our tech squad, knocking out any security systems as we go. Legion?"
Turning its attention away from the screen, Legion's eyespot lit up with interest, "Yes?"
If there was anyone who could track the human Spectre, it would be this very geth. "I need you to help us find Shepard, you're a good tracker, so I'll need you to be at your best."
"This platform always runs at optimum capacity, and we shall do everything we can to assist your plan."
Garrus' eyes fell on Jack. "You'll be heavy support, using your biotics to kill off any dumb son of a bitch to get in our way."
Jack grinned. She had to admit, she loved killing prison guards. "With pleasure."
He then relegated secondary objectives to the other teammates. Jacob, Thane, and Zaeed would head for the first AA tower, while Miranda, Kasumi, Samara, and Mordin would head for the second. The other two gun emplacements would have to wait.
Garrus deactivated the holo-screen and gave a nervous laugh. "I'm not one for big speeches, usually that's Shepard's job." He straightened up, his tone went dead serious, "But he isn't here. These Black Talon bastards…"
Falan groaned, "I'm standing right here…"
"…think they can just take Shepard and not have any sort of reprisal. That's not going to happen."
Tali's heart pounded at the turian's words. She was ready. Ready to take on anything to get what she wanted back.
"Shepard's done something for each of us…" Garrus continued, as his eyes drifted to Jack, "Whether it was blow away bad memories." To Miranda, Thane, Samara, and Jacob, "Deal with family." To Zaaed and Mordin, "Go after 'old friends.'" Grunt and Kasumi, "Rites of passage and keeping good memories intact." Legion and Tali, "Helping our people, for better or for worse."
Garrus paused as he looked at his feet. Helped us take a better path than just blind murder.
His eyes found his comrades again, "Time to go and do something for Shepard."
Peace.
