***Edit Note - 10/20/11***
Thanks, HellBovine, couldn't find that message in my in-game inbox. Had thought
one of their wives wrote Shepard later. You get +1 venomPOINTS (Disclaimer:
venomPOINTS not actually redeemable for...well, anything.)

***Author's Note***
Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls, humans and aliens, welcome to the main event.
We're within the last four chapters now, and the tension is boiling over. This is the first of
a two-chapter finale for Garrus and his team, and the two chapters are dedicated entirely
to them.

Chapter 29 will be a Wilson/Jacob/Miranda PoV-hopper as Wilson enacts his betrayal, and
Chapter 31 will be a Tali piece, getting her team together and heading off to Freedom's Progress.

For anyone interested, I'll also be writing an Afterword, and answering any questions anyone
may have about the story. If you'd like a question answered, just PM it to me with the subject
line of "Afterword," and I'll put it in! If I don't get any, no worries, I just always write an Afterword
on my pieces anyway. I always wonder what made the author write things a certain way when I'm
reading a piece, so I like to give people that insight into my own writing, if they're interested in
reading it. =)

Whew that was a lot in an Author's Note! On to the "fun"! Enjoy, and as always, thanks for the
reviews and adds!


Chapter 28 – Knock, Knock

Blood pounded through Garrus' head as he ran faster than he ever had through the cargo bays around him, trying to remember the way back to the shuttle. He'd already been turned around once, and he fumed as he sprinted. Betrayed. By Sidonis, of all people. He wouldn't say he'd never entertained the idea that someone in his team might betray him, but spirits why did it have to be Sidonis? He'd tried to send a message back to him after seeing the laser-scored apology in the back of the cargo bay, but had simply received a [Communications Failure] message in response. Sidonis had either blocked communications from him, or scrapped his omni-tool entirely. Garrus growled in rage and increased his speed at the thought, finally finding his way out of the cargo yard and back to the transport terminal.

A pair of salarians stood chatting by the terminal, and as the skycar they'd requested lowered onto the platform, Garrus rushed past them, grabbing the one in the lead by the shoulder and flinging him backwards. He fell to the ground with a muffled cry of outrage, and Garrus hopped in the skycar, taking manual control and lifting it off into the atmosphere around Omega. Tilting the bow of the craft upwards, he could see the underside of the asteroid dome-top to the huge space station, and flew straight towards it. Level after level passed underneath his ship as he slowly ascended upwards.

He hoped he wasn't too late.


"Come on, Krul, hold it up farther," Erash couldn't help but let the frustration he'd been feeling at the explosive trap in their main door slip into his voice, and the krogan glared at him, but grunted, heaving the huge door up another few inches. "Sorry," he said quietly, working with the trap once again.

"No need to apologize, I just hope they try to hack the door. I'd love to see the...consequences," the krogan smiled as he emphasized the last word, a stomach-turning sight, but Erash just laughed softly before continuing.

"Yea, I'd like to see that too. Spirits know I've put enough work into this thing, but it's still not working correctly. Don't even have to try hacking the door to know it won't trigger." The krogan snorted.

"So it's a dud."

"Please, I'm not a novice at this. It's still a very viable explosive, and if it gets hit with any fire, it'll blow sky-high. But to control the explosion right now I'd have to manually activate it, which, as you can see, would require being no more than ten yards away." The krogan laughed, and a deep, gravelly voice spoke up as Vortash laughed as well.

"So it's a bomb that takes you out along with the enemy…I think I'd prefer a dud." The batarian smiled as he rounded the other side of the door and came into view, and the three of them shared a small laugh as they continued to work on the door. Erash continued to speak as he worked on the bomb.

"I'll get it working, don't you worry. My father was one of the greatest demolition experts on all of Pal—" his words were cut short by a sniper shot ringing out, and he snapped his head up at the sickening crunch to his right. Vortash's body stood upright for a full three seconds, his head a pulpy mass, before it toppled to the floor in the entryway to their base. Time seemed to slow as Erash turned his gaze back across the bridge to see the Blue Suns sniper lining up another shot. His feet were frozen, his mind blank.

Grundan Krul was already moving, rushing into the base, and grabbing Erash in one meaty arm as he ran in. The sniper rifle sang its song of death again, and the bullet pierced the metal siding of their base right where Erash's head had been seconds before. Throwing the turian to the ground once they were inside, Krul grabbed the giant bulkhead and began to pull it shut. Erash leaped forward, grabbing Vortash's body by his feet and dragging him into the base. One, two, three sniper rounds slammed into Krul's gigantic body, but he continued to heave the door, and it closed with a resounding thud. Turning around, Krul roared into the base.

"Blue Suns! They've found us! Time for a fight!" Slamming a fist into the open palm of his other hand, Krul grabbed the assault rifle off of his back and took up a position by the front row. A small machicolation had been cut into the front wall of the base, allowing defenders to fire upon anyone coming over the bridge, and Krul let loose, taking down mercs one at a time as they flooded over the far barricade they had erected earlier.

Members of their team poured out of every doorway in the compound as Erash pulled Vortash's body to a back room, covering him with a blanket. As he left, he saw Ripper coming out of the room next to Vortash's grave, looking back inwards and gesturing to the three human girls within as he spoke.

"It's gonna be alright, just stay down, and stay quiet, okay?" They must have acquiesced, because Erash saw him nod before closing the door and turning to him. "So, they finally wised up, huh?" Erash nodded blankly, still overcome by his close encounter with death. Ripper walked over to him and, without warning, laid a heavy backhanded slap across his mandibles. Erash's head reeled, and he shook it violently before sending a wide-eyed glare back at the human. "Wake up, peach-cup! This is a fucking war, people are gonna die. Just try not to be one of them." The anger faded from Erash's eyes, and he nodded determinedly, taking his heavy pistol from his side and activating it. Ripper grinned wickedly. "Hell yea. Let's get this party started." Turning, he ran to the front of the base to meet up with Krul. Erash ran up the flight of stairs, finding himself following Butler and Weaver as they rushed towards the upper-level sniper perch. He caught the middle of their conversation as he ran with them.

"—the hell are Garrus and Sidonis when shit like this happens?" Weaver ranted as they took up positions. Butler simply shrugged, sighting down his scope and taking the head off of a merc in one fluid motion. Erash hadn't heard the man utter more than five words since joining the team, but he was a damn good killer. Erash answered Weaver's question as he leaned out to fire, keeping suppression on a merc in cover.

"Sidonis was picking up some new weapons, Garrus said he asked for his help in moving it all, but they should be back by now..." The roar of weapons fire from below forced him to yell, and Weaver nodded as he fired a grenade towards the back row of bridge-crossers. It exploded, and two mercs died instantly. One sat clutching the bleeding stump of his leg for a few seconds until Butler put a round through his head. Weaver laughed and reloaded the launcher.

"Well they better get back here soon; I'm not exactly 'leadership material'!"


"What's the total so far?"

"Just one, sir. The batarian." Tarak frowned. He had wanted the traitor to be the last to die, so he could finish the bastard himself. Just as well, he would find the body and carve out the eyes. Leaving his soul trapped in a corpse for all of eternity seemed a fitting punishment.

"Have Garm and Jaroth replied to my messages yet?"

"Garm has, sir," Jentha began, "The Blood Pack are on their way. No word yet from Jaroth, though he does like to be elusive…" she trailed off, uncertain, but he nodded. The salarian was always careful, only playing his cards when he knew the game was already his. He hadn't expected anything different from the coward.

"Keep sending them over, and contact our men back at the main levels. This bridge is an intentional kill-zone. We're going to need fodder for their cannons. Tell them to recruit anyone with half a brain and a whole gun, we'll send them first, weaken them up, then hammer in and overwhelm them." Jentha nodded emphatically.

"Yes sir, I'll send the message straight away." She turned and all but ran from his command center. She was perhaps the only human he did not want to kill on sight. Smiling viciously, he turned back to the map Sidonis had provided them. The bridge was, indeed, the only way into the base, but there had to be other options, other ways. Turning the holographic image with his hands, he examined the base. He would find a way to break through, and this little rebellion would end.

And Archangel…he would suffer to the very last breath.


They had been fighting for almost an hour, holding the Suns off steadily. Grundal Krul and Ripper sat crouched against the front wall. They both sat back down after a combined stream of gunfire, panting as they reloaded their weapons. Ripper grinned at his krogan friend.

"How many?" The beast smiled back at him.

"At least twenty, probably more but counting isn't really my strong suit." The human laughed.

"You know I always wanted to ask you, and now seems as good a time as any, why the hell are you on Omega?" The krogan laughed before responding.

"My father is a Clan chief back on Tuchanka. Chief Grundan Morsk," he said with feigned reverence. "He wants to spend his life growling at other krogan and defending some patch of fallow ground. That's not the life for me." He paused, swinging over the top again and sending a hail of bullets into the advancing troops before coming back down and continuing. "Twenty-two. Anyway, I originally came here to join the Blood Pack, believe it or not. But their 'Clan,'" he spat the word, using finger-quotes, "is weak. They don't fight for glory, or even just to see their enemies die. They fight for money, money given to them by weaklings who can't fight their own battles."

"So how'd you wind up with Archangel?" Ripper asked, grunting the last bit as he leaned up over and delivered a face-full of shotgun ammo into an approaching Suns member.

"Blood Pack sent me to kill him as a trial. They knew I wasn't going to be able to pull it off; they just wanted to see how far I would get. More a test for him than for me, I think. Anyway, He didn't run, didn't shoot, just stood there with his gun on me. He said I was a strong krogan. I asked him how he would know. He told me he had traveled with Urdnot Wrex, and had seen that the true might of my people lies in choosing battles, not fighting every one with reckless abandon." He paused, firing over the top, a thoughtful look on his face. "His words…he was right. So I asked to join him against his enemies, and here I am."

"Here you are," Ripper said, almost a whisper. "Krul…you really think we're making it out of this?" He looked into his friend's face for a second, it was all he needed. The krogan smiled wickedly, shaking his head slowly as he responded.

"No…but neither are they."


Monteague's eyes flashed open at the sound of a sniper shot. He'd only been partially asleep anyway. Fire still burned across the left side of his body, but he was tired of laying around useless. Swinging his feet over the side of the gurney, he grabbed his omni-tool and submachine gun off of the nearby table. Crossing to the door gingerly, he noticed Melanis asleep in the chair. He kicked its leg hard with his good foot, and the salarian started awake.

"M-Monteague? No, you can't be up, you have to—" his words were cut off as he heard a grenade impact the front of the base. Eyes wide, he stood quickly, rushing to act. "Alright, you'll need pain inhibitors and burn salve so you can wear your armor." Acquiring what he needed, Melanis rubbed the salve onto Monteague's burns, and a numbing effect instantly washed over them. Pulling on his light armor, he took the syringe from Melanis' trembling hands and jammed it into his own arm. His eyes flashed wide, colors became sharper, and the world was clear again. Dropping the syringe, he clapped Melanis on the shoulder.

"Thanks, doc. Never thought I'd be patched up by a salarian, but you did a bang-up job." Without waiting for a reply, he stepped out into the main area and crossed quickly to the front of the base.


"Still no response! I can't get him on his omni-tool!" Mierin's shrill voice pierced through the veil of concentration Sensat had acquired as he typed away furiously on the terminal in front of him.

"Try a different encryption frequency, they're trying to jam our communications!" As if hearing his hypothesis, the terminal in front of him seized up, locking with an [Access Denied] message across the screen. Looking over, he saw his brother's terminal flashing the same thing. They looked at each other, each salarian's gaze admitting a defeat they rarely suffered. Monteague rushed by, and the sight of him walking around startled them. However as he passed Sensat noticed something odd about his armor…the small blue light at the base of his neck wasn't glowing…Sensat gasped, he had no shields!

Rushing after Monteague, he caught up to him just as he was about to activate his tactical cloak and leap the fortification wall to close with the enemy. He was mid-air when Sensat's three-fingered hand caught the back of his armor, pulling him back over as bullets narrowly missed peppering his armor.

"What the hell, Sensat?" He yelled, surprised at the salarian's actions. Standing above him, Sensat gestured to his suit.

"It's your shields, the indicator light is off, I think they're offl—" the trio of bullets caught him in the side of the head, and his body stumbled back, blood pouring from the wounds. Mierin stood instinctively, yelling his name as he grabbed the already-lifeless body of his brother. Monteague, getting back into cover, saw the Suns merc lining up the grenade, knew its trajectory, reached out to the bereaved salarian, but it was too late.

Screaming into the small hole, it was a perfect shot, landing the grenade into Mierin's body as it detonated, sending both Sensat and Mierin's bodies hurtling backwards to slam against the metal wall of the base. Monteague's mouth hung open for a moment, and he almost vaulted over the wall again, but brought up his omni-tool. Sensat had been right, his shields were completely offline. He'd have been dead in seconds. Now instead, he and his brother had suffered that fate. Anger welled within him at the loss of his friends, and he brought the shields back online, activated his cloak, and leaped over the wall. Noticing the large amount of mercs crossing the bridge, Monteague stepped to the side behind a column and waited for the main defense to thin them out before taking kill shots. There must have been hundreds of them...and for a moment hopelessness threatened to overwhelm him. Thinking of the salarian brothers brought rage back to him, though, and he lined up another shot, viciously putting three rounds through the visor of a nameless merc.

Vengeance was a hell of a motivator.


"Three confirmed dead sir," Jentha spoke as she rushed into his command center. He nodded.

"Good, and Blood Pack?"

"They've just arrived, sir. Garm says he has a brute-force group of five krogan ready to charge the front line." Tarak smiled, that was more than he expected the Blood Pack leader to offer in support, but clearly his lust for battle was overriding his common sense. Tarak would not let that opportunity go to waste.

"Tell him to send them in, by all means."

"Yes sir, I'll inform him at once."


Monteague stood behind one of the near pillars, cloaked and waiting. Sure enough, just like last time, a lone Blue Suns merc, thinking himself safe because he'd made it across the bridge, lowered his weapon and ran for the large metal door. Decloaking, Monteague cut him down in a powerful hail of fire from his SMG. I'll kill every one of these bastards for you, boys, he thought to Sensat and Mierin. Every fucking one of them. His comm link flared to life, and Krul's voice came over it.

"How the fuck do I work this thing…like…like this? Agh, alright Ripper I've got it! This is Krul, we've got a pack of my people coming. We've got firepower but…not enough to stop all of them. They're going to make it to the door." Erash's voice came afterwards.

"The charge isn't set yet! If five krogan get to the door, there's no way it'll hold for more than a minute. Spirits, we can't let them get to it or we're done for!"

Monteague peeked around his corner after cloaking again. Sure enough, there they were: five krogan in Blood Pack armor, just cresting the barricade. He'd been on Omega long enough to know that Blood Pack usually sent vorcha in to do the dirty work. Krogan only got involved if things were really desperate. He's trying to end this right now, he thought, assessing the situation and comparing it with his previous encounters with Blood Pack, this is a huge investment for Garm. Can't let them get to the door, can't stop them as a group... Sighing, Monteague stared at the group as it began to run forward as a unit. Closing his eyes, he said a quiet prayer and stepped out onto the bridge, still cloaked. He tapped his comm unit and spoke.

"I'll handle them. It's been a pleasure, boys. Weaver, you're in charge of the unit. And don't let Butler talk so much shit to you. He's a loudmouth, you know?" Weaver's weak laugh came over his comm, and Monteague smiled as he heard one of his best friends speak for the last time.

"W-will do, boss. You keep a cold one waiting for me, okay?" He nodded, smiling as he grabbed the incendiary grenades strapped to his belt and activated all four at once. Still cloaked, an invisible harbinger of death, he charged the oncoming krogan horde as he spoke into his comm link.

"Sure will, but don't keep me waiting, Weaver, shit gets warm fast in Hell."


The explosion was retina-burning, but Weaver watched it anyway. A friend, a leader, like Monteague deserved to have his death seen and remembered by his friends. The five krogan fell as one, burning and screaming, caught completely off guard by Monteague's kamikaze attack. He spoke coldly into his comm link.

"Cleanup."

He, Butler, and Ripper silently unloaded into the five writhing krogan, their bodies shifting slightly with every bullet. A minute that seemed an eternity passed, as the team continued to pour round after round into their bodies. As the last one stopped twitching, Weaver sat back against the wall, a grimace on his face and tears he hadn't realized he'd been crying staining his cheeks. Monteague was gone, not even his body was left. He looked over to Butler, the man held his gaze, his hard eyes holding back the pain Weaver wore openly. Rage burned within him. Monteague's body was gone, and he'd make sure the krogan were treated no different. Grabbing his grenade launcher with anger in every movement, he slammed a frag grenade into it and slid back into cover. He would send a message with their exploding corpses. He would tell these fuckers what happens when you mess with Monteague's unit…with Garrus' unit.

Butler had his eye to his rifle's scope, and seeing the enemy sniper raise his weapon he ducked back into cover just as Weaver began to come up with his launcher in hand. Weaver hesitated as he heard the man yell "Weaver, no!" but he was already in motion, aiming the grenade launcher at the humans and vorcha moving past the bodies on the bridge.


The world went orange with fire and pain. Weaver's body flew backwards slamming into the retaining wall of the upper floor. Losing his balance, he flipped over the railing and fell into the main area below. The fall seemed to take forever, fire burned in his lungs and he could feel blood running out of him as the hard floor below reached up to take his life.

Staring at the ceiling as he fell, for an instant he could see it open, but instead of the hard browns and reds of Omega, he could see the blue skies and clouds he'd stared up into as a child on Earth. Before his father had beat his mother to death, before he'd joined up with the Reds to get away from that pain, before Monteague had gotten him out of the gangs and into a unit that mattered. In a brief moment he was able to rewind his life, and see the beauty of a cloud-filled sky, his favorite sight in the entire galaxy.

For an instant, as Michael Weaver's body fell to its death, he smiled; the pure, unforced smile of a man completely at peace.


The Blue Suns sniper sat back in his perch behind a large block of the barricade, his mouth open in shock behind his helmet. Had he…had he really just made that shot? Short, stifled laughs of disbelief escaped his mouth as he came to the realization…he most certainly had. Tapping the comm link in his helmet, he contacted his unit commander.

"Hey chief, you're not going to believe the shot I just made…"

"Try me, rookie," came his gruff reply.

"You ever shoot a grenade while the other guy's still holding it?" he asked, allowing the pride to shine through in his voice.

The comm link was silent in response. The sniper grinned, putting his eye back to the scope.


The world was fuzzy, a dull ringing continuously sounding in his ears. Buzzing in his comm link. Shaking his head slowly, Butler sat back up into cover, looking backwards toward the railing Weaver had fallen over. Training his ears on the noise, it soon came into clarity. Erash's turian voice came over the speaker in his ear piece.

"Second-level team, what the hell was that explosion? Is anyone still alive up there?" Raising his arm unsteadily to his helmet, he tapped the comm link.

"Th-This is Butler…anyone see Weaver down there? I…I saw him fall…" Worry laced his voice, and Melanis' soon responded.

"With him now on the first level, Butler…he…he didn't make it." Closing his eyes, Butler said a prayer for his fallen teammate. Ripper's voice came next.

"Butler, you alright, man?" As if triggered by his friend's words, Butler's pain sensors flared, and he followed their alert to his leg. Shrapnel from Weaver's frag grenade stuck in a line up the inside of his leg, and the wound bled profusely. Even bleeding out, he maintained his quiet professionalism.

"Negative. I've taken shrapnel damage to my left leg. Surface damage is minimal, but quite a bit of bleeding. Femoral artery must be opened." Melanis was replying instantly.

"Stay low, I'll be with you as soon as we get a break in enemy fire." Nodding, Butler leaned back against his cover spot, looking down at his leg and watching the life flow out of him to pool beneath the wound. He shook his head slowly…it was too much. Remembering medical training didn't help his disposition. Less than three minutes to bleed out from a femoral hemorrhage…Turning, wincing at the agony in his leg, Butler took up his post again. He wasn't walking out of this, but neither would they.

Knowing he couldn't reliably move in and out of cover, he took a long breath, steadying his mind, and heaved himself up and over his cover, sighting down the scope immediately. He fired, taking a merc on the bridge in the head. Firing again, and again, Butler killed four, five, six of them, before it came. He knew it would, and so when the bullet caught him in the chest he let himself be thrown backwards, crumpling on the ground in a heap. Expecting it didn't make the sniper shot hurt any less, and Butler silently clutched at his chest, his vision clouding.

Unsteadily reaching a hand into a seldom-used pocket of his armor, he pulled out a small holo, and activated it in front of his trembling face. A beautiful woman and a small girl occupied the space in the air above the small disk. A few small tears leaked from his eyes, and he longed to see them just one more time...

"Go on then, just go!" She screams, but he knows she's not angry at him. She's angry because she knows this is the only way they'll be safe.

"Nalah…" he reaches towards her, pleading. She steps back, slapping his outstretched hands away with her own.

"No! We have a child, Ryan! You can't just go off and fight 'bad guys' because they threaten us. You have a family to think of. We can just run. We can just get the hell out of here!" Her lips tremble. She knows what she's suggesting won't work. She knows they're on the Suns' list, and that running would just start a chase that neither of them want to expose Lisa to. But she can't say these things. He shakes his head.

"You know they'd just follow us. Monteague and Weaver, they can stop this. I want to help them stop this, for all our safety." Tears well in her eyes, and she takes their toddler in her arms.

"Go then, Ryan. Make your choice. But…we're running. I won't wait for them to come find us, and I won't watch you die." Turning, she retreats to their bedroom. He wants to follow her, to tell her she's right, they'll just run. But he knows that won't fix it. With one last look towards the doorway, hoping to see her come back out, he sighs softly and turns, picking up his rifle, his bag, and his holo of the only two women in the galaxy he cares for, and walks out the door.

Tears fell from Butler's eyes, and his chest shook with sorrow. He didn't know whether they'd made it out, but he hoped they had. He didn't know if they were safe, but he hoped they were. Clutching the holo, feeling his last moments come upon him, Ryan Butler whispered softly into the darkness that surrounded his vision.

"I…I'm sorry, Nalah..."