Salvation: Episode I – The Taking of the Carmenta Illustria
Disclaimer: This fan-fiction is part of an episodic series taking place after Salvation: A Half-Life/Mass Effect Universe Fan Fiction, which will lead directly to its sequel, Salvation II: Project Prometheus. These episodes and sequel take place OUTSIDE of the Mass Effect 3 continuity. Characters property of their respective companies, Half-Life created by Valve and Mass Effect created by Bioware.
Chapter 10: We've Seen Worse...
The terrified passengers continued to pour into the Promenade Deck from the entrances and stairways. Hundreds of them. Perhaps thousands... They were quieter now. Calmer. Compliant. Subdued... The fear was still prevalent in their eyes, and on their faces, but a frightened hush fell over them, as they were drawn into the Promenade Deck by the armed betrayers, like cattle into a pen.
"Alright, sit down, and keep quiet!" A gun toting, uniformed salarian demanded, as one by one, he ushered the passengers by, into a rapidly growing thicket of lifeforms, all sitting in a tightly huddled cluster, at the center of what used to be the Casino. "Come on, hurry up! Keep it moving!"
Nearby, several of the other uniformed guards worked at clearing the area of the fallen debris, and wreckage, from the brief, albeit devastating, firefight that had ensued moments ago. The center most area that had once been occupied with craps, roulette, and blackjack tables, along with quasar and slot machines, as well as a multitude of other, more exotic, alien banking games, had now been completely cleared to make room for the hostages.
They no longer dared contended against their oppressors. Instead, as they were herded in, they'd only tremble in silence, or let forth a muddled whimper. Parents would hold their children tightly and cover their eyes, as the bloodied bodies of the fallen officers were hauled away by their brothers in corruption.
Perhaps it was the sight of the ship's Captain being executed in cold blood that pacified the chaotic rabble into a tranquil, fearful mass. Maybe it was the understanding that these armed thugs, would in fact, not hesitate to kill them should they oppose their captors. Or maybe it was seeing that the few brave figures that had stepped forth to defend them, were now nothing more than prisoners, just like they were...
A clicking sound came, as a young turian guard locked Garrus' hands behind his back with a sturdy pair of silver handcuffs at the front of the congregating group of civilians. Garrus, much like the fellow combatants in his company, didn't resist - but his countenance reflected a deep, seething anger.
Close by, an asari guard rummaged through the pocket's of Jacob's stylish, tan coat, which she held dangling in her hands, leaving him in the long-sleeved, black dress shirt he was wearing underneath. Beside them, a human female officer patted an already handcuffed Mordin from top to bottom – likely searching for weapons, or perhaps valuables.
"Frisking is pointless. You realize this, don't you?" Mordin offered up in an arrogant tone, as he held his head high, in a snide manner. "If intended to kill you, do not need weapons to do so..." He gloated, as he turned around to face her. "Or hands for that matter... Can think of s...even different ways to render you incapacitated or worst, without metacarpal use... Oh! Eight actually!" He suddenly exclaimed, with a jovial grin, as a new devious idea crossed his mind. "Hmm... Will have to remember that last one."
The woman moved her head back, and faced away cautiously, however still keeping her eyes on Mordin. Eyes which seemed to reflect the tense, apprehensive look of someone handling a deadly animal – fearful that at any moment it could attack.
"...Yeah, whatever." She muttered in an unsteady voice, trying hard to convey a fraudulent sense of fearlessness. "Just shut up and sit down..."
"This one's clean!" The asari guard nearby shouted out, as she finished her search of Jacob's coat. She quickly discarded it, tossing it back at him, managing to hang it over his shoulder for a moment, before it slid down, and fell onto the floor.
"Yeah, this one too." The turian officer attending to Garrus announced in a gruff tone of voice, as he grabbed him by the shoulder, and forcibly spun him around. "Alright, sit down!"
"Watch it, boy!" Garrus demanded through clenched teeth, with a sneered nose, and an incensed gleam in his eyes. "The salarian's right. We don't need our hands to take you down."
"Yeah, and next time, we won't hold back the krogan." Jacob added, as he turned to look towards Grunt, who at that moment, despite having had his tree-limb-like arms tightly restrained behind his back, startled a salarian officer half to death, and caused him to stumble and fall backwards, simply by lunging his massive head towards him in a threatening manner.
"So don't piss us off again..." Jacob concluded.
"Alright, alright..." The turian that had been attending to Garrus said with an anxious sigh, and a flustered shake of his head. "We're done. Just... sit 'em down, and make sure they're cuffed good and tight. Lets finish getting everyone else in here...!"
The small group of malefactors, responsible for restraining the combatants, stepped aside and walked away, as if not being able to flee their presence fast enough. As the other officers continued on with their duties, guarding the exits, and corralling people into the rapidly expanding pool of lifeforms at the center of the deck, an asari, salarian, human, and turian took the time for a quick, private meeting.
"These guys are making me nervous..." The black haired, human woman started.
"Take it easy." The turian insisted, making sure to keep his voice down. "Did you have any problems cuffing the geth?"
"No..." She replied, as she turned for a brief glance towards the constrained Legion, sitting placidly at the head of the group of hostages, along side his team mates. "Though I can't say I've ever had to handcuff a geth before..." She finished, as she turned back around.
"I don't know why we're keeping 'em here like this..." The asari added in a low tone, as if worried they might overhear. "We should just kill 'em all, and be done with it..."
"Yeah!" The salarian softly exclaimed, trying to hold back an outburst.
"Look... Commander Kim said just to put some restraints on 'em. That's all..." The turian offered forth, in an attempt to quell the others.
"They took out fifteen of our guys, Larne...!" The asari admonished angrily, as she pointed a hand out towards the stack of bodies being piled in a far corner - each of which wore a familiar security uniform. "Fuck what Commander Kim said!"
"Yeah..." The turian replied in a condescending tone, tilting his head, and giving a brash roll of his eyes, as he placed his hands on his hips. "Fifteen of our guys... And we didn't put a SINGLE scratch on any one of them..."
The salarian, asari, and human woman all stopped, as they glanced back and forth at one another, reflecting on the truth of the turian's words...
"Don't be stupid..." He continued. "Besides, you heard them... You think they're just gonna sit still while we go by and execute 'em...? No, the best thing we can do right now is leave well enough alone, and follow orders... And think of it this way... Fifteen of our guys... That's fifteen LESS shares... Fifteen less ways our profits get divvied up..." An arrogant, crooked smirk grew on his face, as he leaned back on one leg, and crossed his arms. "Hmph... I'm actually pretty okay with that. The way I see it, they did us a favor..."
"...Mathew!" A loud voice, mired in desperation, unexpectedly rang out from the crowd, projecting over all the barked orders, and frightened chatter, as a human man in an expensive looking suit, with a glazed over, yet determined look in his eyes staggered out of line, garnering everyone's attention, including the four guards privately convened.
"Back in to line, you!" A nearby asari officer demanded, as she marched up to the staggering father, with her weapon drawn.
"Go da'hell...!" He slurred, as he stumbled around, on rubbery legs, like a punch-drunk boxer. "I'm tryna find mah son...!"
"Alex!" A woman screamed.
Just as he nearly toppled to the ground, his wife rushed to his side, hooking him by the waist, and drawing his arm around her neck and shoulders, leaving her supporting most of his weight. Despite his fervor, his now heavy head drooped flaccidly over his chest, as he continued to bumble around in a drowsy, disoriented daze. His eyes were glazed over, nearly rolling into the back of his skull. And the rear of his white shirt collar, and the back of his dark gray suit were both stained in blood, as a small, steady trickle ran down the back of his neck, painting a crimson trail.
"Angie..." He slurred, as his knees suddenly gave out, leaving her carrying all of his weight, and giving her no choice but to lower him down to the ground.
"Angie, he's not'ere..." He murmured in a groggy voice, as she laid him down, with a panicked, tearful look in her eyes. "Gotta find... find our boy..."
"Alex...!" She whimpered, as she looked down at him, clutching his hand tightly – terrified now, not only for the well being of their son, but also for her husband's rapidly deteriorating condition. "Alex, hold on... We'll find him...!"
"What the hell...?" The asari beckoned with a furrowed brow, pulling her weapon back, and pointing it up towards the ceiling after realizing the threat was negligible. "What's wrong with him...?"
"What's wrong with him...!?" Angela glared up at the asari with tears in her eyes, and an indignant countenance. "You monsters split his head open! That's what's wrong with him!"
"Puhh..." The asari scoffed, as the line of sheep kept moving behind them. "He probably had it coming..."
Angela sneered furiously, as her breathing quickened. Just then she stopped, inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and squeezed her husband's hand tightly, whose limp grip she could feel trying to squeeze back.
"Please..." She began, exhaling the breath, as she looked up pleadingly at the asari security officer.
"My husband's a major movie producer for Illium Entertainment..." She began to explain, in a bit of a shaky voice, as she wiped the tears from her eyes, leaving black streaks of mascara behind. "We have money...! We'll give you whatever you want, just please... Help my husband... And help us find our son...!"
The asari sighed, and shook her head, as she holstered her sidearm – perhaps reacting to nothing other than the promise of greater fortune.
"Alright..." She reluctantly acknowledged, as she turned to face the rabble, still being guided in.
"I need a Doctor here!" She shouted, with one hand cupped around her mouth. "Who here is a Doctor?!"
There was one person in the room who could, in all good conscience, not ignore the call. A seasoned physician with impeccable credentials. Not the least of which was a brief, albeit rewarding stint, caring for the riffraff of Omega.
"I am a Doctor!" Mordin shouted out in response, as he rose to his feet.
"No!" The turian guard who had previously been seeing to their restraining, abruptly shouted out, as he marched over towards Mordin - his finger pointed towards him, while looking over to the asari. "Not him! You find someone else." He demanded, turning back to face Mordin. "You sit back down!"
"That man requires medical attention!" Mordin rebutted, showing no intent of sitting back down. "Will not let you stop me from administering!"
"I-I said sit down!" The turian demanded, trying hard to mask the small stutter in his voice, with a bolstered tone.
Just then, before the commotion could go any further, a man still in line, wearing a white and red Carmenta Illustria Medical Personnel uniform, stepped forward, and raised his hand.
"I'm a Doctor...!" A feminine voice declared before he could even speak up, as a silver haired woman, in her early fifties, stood up from the crowd that had already been seated, giving the man in the medical staff uniform license to put his hand down, and step back into line.
Mordin turned around to face the source of the familiar voice, in the crowd behind him. Dr. Karin Chakwas, who was wearing a modest, black evening gown, trimmed with white sleeves, lining, and lace, from an interrupted evening of dinning and dancing, looked back at him, and gave him a subtle nod. Mordin reciprocated the nod, and compliantly sat back down.
"Alright. You!" The turian ordered, as he pointed at Dr. Chakwas, and waved her forward. "Go. Help him."
The good Doctor weaved her way through the tightly huddled mass of people sitting around her, at her feet, as rapidly as she could, while still being cautious not to step on any extremities. As she maneuvered, most of them leaned forward or back to clear as wide a path as they could. She could hear some of them crying, or whimpering in fear, as she passed them by.
"M... M-Matt... Mathew..." Alex muttered in a groggy, fading voice, as he languidly flailed one hand out, reaching up towards the ceiling.
"Shhh-Shhh..." Angela whispered, as she held onto his other hand, and softly caressed his face. "We'll find him...! I promise..."
"Ma...Matt... Mm-son..."
"I'm here...!" Dr. Chakwas announced, looking down at the patient, as she rushed to kneel at his side. "What happened?!"
"He got into a fight with one of the guards, upstairs..." She began to explain anxiously, as she squeezed his hand tightly. "They hit him on the back of the head with one of their guns. It started bleeding... a lot...!"
"Okay..." Dr. Chakwas replied in a calm, yet pressing tone of voice.
Alex's head was now resting on a small, but slowly growing crimson pool of his own blood, as he continued to mutter incoherently - likely still calling out for his boy. Dr. Chakwas quickly yet carefully began to work her hands beneath his shoulders.
"Help me sit him up..." She instructed, as she began trying to lift him off the ground. "I need to see the wound."
Angela hooked her hands onto Alex's shoulders, and began to pull forward, as Dr. Chakwas lightly pushed from behind, propping him up into an upright, seated position. The Doctor then materialized her omni-tool, and quickly shined her flashlight onto the red, gaping gash at the rear of his cranium.
"Hmm..." Dr. Chakwas pondered, as she made a rapid assessment of the wound, and it's severity. "Hold him for a moment. Keep him up." She ordered, as she removed her hands from his back, forcing Angela to work a little harder to keep her husband upright.
As soon as her hands were free, Dr. Chakwas immediately grabbed her left dress sleeve with her right hand, and went to work tugging and tearing away at it. A ripping sound came, as the seam where her sleeve met the rest of her dress, split apart. The sound continued, as she fully ripped her white, velvety sleeve off, and slid it off her arm. Working with an almost instinctual knowledge, Karin quickly rolled the sleeve fabric up into a tight little cushion, and pressed it firmly against the hemorrhaging wound – instantly causing a rapidly growing cerise stain to begin consuming the shimmering white fabric.
"Put your hand here." Dr. Chakwas instructed, as she held the bundled cloth with one hand, and pressed against Alex's back with the other. Angela quickly complied, taking hold of the cloth, and freeing the Doctor's hand. "Lay him down against your lap, and keep pressure there."
"O-Okay..." Angela acknowledged, as they both began to recline Alex back down against Angela's lap. She quickly shifted from a kneeling, to sitting position, with her hands securely cradling Alex's head, and keeping pressure on his open wound.
Dr. Chakwas stood up, her hands now stained with blood, as she faced the nearby asari guard, still overseeing the situation.
"This man has a severely lacerated scalp, and a cranial fracture..." She informed, with a look of disdain for the malicious officer. "We need to get him to the ship's medical bay immediately."
"No." The asari sternly, and immediately refuted, without showing the least bit of marked remorse. "Nuh-uh. If you're gonna do something for him, you do it here. If there's something you need, we'll try and get it for you, but you're not going anywhere..."
Dr. Chakwas ground her teeth, and clenched her lips in anger, and in frustration, as she bowed and shook her head. Releasing an exasperated sigh, she then looked up with a submissive expression. "Fine..." She began in a softened, yet still very much irate, tone of voice. "The first thing I need to do is stop the bleeding. I need medi-gel... I think I saw..." Her eyes began to pan around the deck, and her pointed finger followed, as she scanned the area. "There!" She exclaimed, zeroing-in on a wall-mounted case, with a red cross painted on it. "On the far wall. The first-aid station. I need medi-gel, gauze, and a cold-compress."
The asari nodded and let out a sharp whistle, towards a nearby male, human guard, keeping watch over the still moving stream of hostages being rallied in. His attention was naturally coerced by high-pitched the sound. As he looked over, the asari pointed a thumb over her shoulders, towards the distant wall behind her, where the first aid station was situated. "First-aid station. Need medi-gel, gauze, and an ice-pack."
"On it." He assured obediently, as he holstered his weapon, and bolted towards his objective.
"I'll also need a few things from the ship's medbay." Dr. Chakwas continued. "Some suturing supplies, antimicrobial agents, bandages, and a saline-dextrose IV infuser..."
"Fine, we'll see what we can do..." The asari nonchalantly assured, with a wave and a shrug – showing barely a shred of concern, not so much for the well-being of the man, but rather his credits.
"Well, thank you for that at least..." The Doctor replied, trying to contain the angry cynicism in her voice, with the sound of gratitude.
"Though I feel you should know..." She continued, eying the asari with a rigid glare. "All of you are making the biggest mistakes of your lives... You have no IDEA... what you've put yourselves up against..."
"Look lady, spare me the jowl, alright...?" The blue officer admonished. "Just do your job or you'll be laid out right next to him..."
With nothing further to say, Dr. Chakwas simply looked down at her patient, who was resting peacefully with his head in his wife's lap, and knelt back down at their side.
"Is... is he gonna be alright...?!" Angela beseeched, as she lovingly caressed the side of her husband's face with her one free hand.
"He's going to be just fine." Karin assured with a warm, comforting smile. "He's got a mild concussion, and he's suffering the effects of acute blood loss. But believe me when I tell you that I've seen much... MUCH worse... He'll be okay..."
"Thank you...!" She lauded, exhaling a deep, drawn our sigh of relief. "Thank you so much..."
"Ma'am...!" She then beckoned, as she immediately turned to look up at the asari, after bestowing her gratitude. "Ma'am, please...! My son... You have to let me go look for my son...!"
"Nuh-nuh-nobody's going anywhere!" The asari refuted angrily, waving a stiff finger back and forth like a metronome. "We're on it, alright? Someone'll find your kid. And as soon as they do, they'll bring him down here."
"Oh, please don't hurt him...!"
"Nobody's gonna hurt him!" She sneered, with a heavy sense of annoyance in her voice. "Ju-just sit still, and you'll get 'em back before you know it..."
Angela slumped back down, as her neck sank below her shoulders. What more could she do, but take what these ruffians had to say at face value...? All she could do at that point was watch, as the human guard arrived with medi-gel, gauze, and ice-pack for her husband, which Dr. Chakwas quickly took and prepared to use...
"This is Ly'enne." The asari officer announced into her radio, as she pressed against the communicator in her ear. "Team two on the Promenade Deck. We're gonna need some medical supplies down here. And uh... keep your eyes open for a human kid running around loose somewhere..."
"And so... While a rogue group of security personnel have seemingly seized control of the ship, for reasons yet unknown... I find myself now... On my hands and knees... Terrified, as I skulk through darkness... Crawling through the dank, dusty, labyrinth of the ship's ventilation system... Like crawling through the very blood vessels of some great, mechanical being... I can only hope now... for the well being of those who have been taken captive... and hope that they... along with myself... shall survive this horrific ordeal... I will do my best to document all tha..."
"Will you be quiet!" Miranda demanded, with a low, throaty voice, through gritted teeth, as she did her best to turn her head in the narrow, cramped space, and address the irritating blonde reporter, following her in tow. "Are you TRYING to get us found out?!"
"Of course not...!" Cameron whispered back, with her omni-tool lit up on her hand, near her mouth, as she laid flat on her stomach, in the ventilation shaft. "But I am a reporter... It's my job to document things like this... But you're right. I'll do my best to keep it down..."
"Good!" Miranda admonished, as she turned back around. "'Cause next time you'll get my stiletto heel right between your eyes..."
Perhaps it wasn't quite like crawling through the blood vessels of some great mechanical creature, but it was like traversing a long, dark space, much narrower than a small refrigerator box. A physicist, still clad in a fashionable, modern-day tuxedo preceded the group, as he shined his omni-tool flashlight into the pathway choked in darkness – sadly an all too familiar setting for this particular physicist.
The black sleeves of his tux, the leggings of his pants, and the breast of his midnight black jacket, were all covered in powdery, gray dust, as the three dragged themselves through the ducts. Much like the Doctor's tux, Miranda Lawson's elegant, bright red evening gown, and Cameron McClane's sky blue dress were both sullied with the stains of the dust they gathered, as they swept through the vents, like a trio of human feather dusters.
"So what are we doing...?" Cameron asked in a whisper, as they continued to drag themselves forward – the sound of the thin, flimsy metal bending beneath their weight reverberated with every inch they crawled, like the sound someone crushing a metal barrel. "Are we going to try and make it to the escape pods...?"
"Who said anything about escaping?" Miranda retorted in low tone of voice, without actually trying to turn around this time.
"Well then... Where ARE we going...?"
"You're the one that wanted to follow us, remember...?" Miranda replied, sounding somewhat irritated, as she followed closely behind Gordon, dragging herself along, using mostly her elbows and forearms. "So don't worry about where we're going... Just keep up, and let us handle things..."
"If you say so..." Cameron reluctantly conceded, as she moved her omni-tool closer to her mouth, and continued to chronicle the situation.
"Uh, Gordon..." Miranda whispered, as the three continued to traverse the dark, narrow duct. "Gordon...?" She called out again, but was unsuccessful in inciting a response from the intrepid physicist, who just seemed to be gazing all around the vent shaft, in oblivious awe, as he crawled forward.
"Gordon...!" She called a third time, this time in an elevated whisper.
"Hmm...?" Gordon finally responded, as he suddenly snapped himself out of the little trance he had fallen into, and turned his head, as best he could, to acknowledged his newfound biotic beauty. "Oh, sorry about that, I was a little distracted..." He said, as he rolled onto his side, to get a better vantage point for speaking to her, momentarily halting their progression.
"You know, these things are incredible...!" He exclaimed, in a high whisper, as he pointed at the visor generating a band of indigo light over his eyes. "As soon as we got in here, a little display read uh... 'Vision impairment detected. Initializing night vision' or something like that... I don't even really need the flashlight!"
"That's great, Gordon... But... Where are we going...?"
"Oh, I have no idea..." Gordon replied, with an awkward shrug of his shoulders, as he laid on his side, looking back. "I never never know where I'm going when I crawl into these things... But I always manage to get there..." He said, with a slick grin.
"That's none too reassuring, you jerk...!" Miranda replied jokingly, reciprocating his smile, as she shook her head, with a bit of a chuckle.
"Uhm, excuse me...!" Cameron chimed in, in a hushed, yet anxiously elevated tone of voice, from behind Miranda. "How is it that that two of you are so calm about this...?!"
"Oh, this is nothing...!" Gordon assured, as he rolled back around, and began dragging himself along once more. "Trust me, Miss... We've seen much... MUCH worse!"
"Yes..." Miranda concurred, not fully matching his optimism, as they continued on. "Much worse... Granted, we were a tad better equipped..."
A frightened chill washed over Cameron's body, as she gulped at something in her throat. As she fought against a feeling of nausea settling into the pit of her stomach, she continued to report her account, into her omni-tool microphone.
"So far I have evaded capture..." She whispered "I have placed my faith in a woman who is a member of the team that took down the Reapers... A member of the team belonging to none other, than the legendary Commander Shepard... But I have also placed my faith in a man who undauntedly claims to be a figure straight out of human history... A man who once delivered a besieged Planet Earth, back to the whole of mankind... Even though I find these claims to be unfounded, and wildly incredulous... There is a gallantry about him... A fearlessness... I sincerely hope, for my sake, and for the sake of everyone on-board... That he truly is the man he claims to be... The legendary One Free Man..."