Author's Note: There is a [sort of] new chapter (35) prior to this one, but for whatever reason fanfiction dot net decided not to send out notifications for it (thanks for pointing that out, cc!). You might want to read it first. *crosses fingers that notices actually go out for this one*
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Samantha's blood pounded in her ears.
For a vast majority of the day she had been waiting patiently in long lines of refugees. These people looked haggard and distraught, having come from all over the galaxy. Thousands of people shuffled their feet, emotionally and physically spent. Most resembled zombies she'd seen in 21st century classic B-movies, sporting shabby clothing and vacant, open-mouthed stares. It was likely that their home-worlds were in ruins, and that most had narrowly escaped the terror of the reapers.
Samantha could hardly wait to reach the processing station and volunteer. After her shuttle had landed, she had been told that she could reclaim her possessions as soon as she had been processed. She had been given a set of three numbers painted on fabric which she was required to pin somewhere on her person, preferably one on each shoulder and the last on the back of her shirt. This, they explained, would help expedite administration.
Out of boredom, and the fierce need to keep her mind off the real reason she was there, she had played virtual chess on her omni-tool while she waited. She would have linked to the extranet to find a partner, except that Sanctuary was under a temporary communications embargo for security purposes. By mid-afternoon, Sam's eyes had begun to cross from staring at her omni-tool for a good portion of the day and she had just finished shutting it down when someone tapped sharply on her shoulder.
"Are you Samantha Traynor?"
Sam turned around to find herself face to face with a dour looking young man wearing some kind of uniform. She examined the vaguely familiar logo, but when she couldn't quite place it, she shrugged and nodded her head. "Yes."
"Would you come with me, Miss Traynor?"
Sam wrinkled her nose in confusion and glanced around. People immediately surrounding her looked on curiously, as though this interruption might very well be the highlight of their miserable day.
"Uhm. Of course."
Mr. Severe grabbed ahold of her elbow, almost uncomfortably, and escorted her back down the line she had been standing in. He held his free hand out and people parted, scrambling out of their way, instinctively knowing not to trifle with a man who exuded authority. As he hauled her forward Sam became more and more alarmed. Eventually he led the way down a long, deserted hallway and opened the door to a small room, empty except for a rickety metal chair bolted to the floor in the centre of it.
"What the—?" Before Sam could finish her sentence, he had shoved her inside and closed the door behind her. She whirled around, but the door had disappeared seamlessly into the wall. There wasn't a handle in sight.
Now her pulse pounded behind her eyes.
"Okay. It's okay. You're gonna be fine."
"I didn't think you were one to talk to yourself, Sammy."
A familiar voice speared through the panic. Opening her eyes, Sam breathed a sigh of relief. "Amy! If you wanted to scare me you could have just snuck up behind me while I was in line!"
Samantha's cousin smiled. Amelia Traynor was only a year younger than Sam, but she was taller and her skin was a richer, darker hue. She was dressed in the same uniform as the man but hers had a few extra stripes on the sleeve. Sam wondered if they indicated some kind of advanced rank.
"I'm afraid the situation is a little bit trickier than that, Coz."
"I don't—" Sam frowned, catching a hint of misery in her cousin's voice. "What do you mean? I came to volunteer. I want to help…"
"Sammy… look. Tell me what you see. Come on, you always were the smartest of the bunch."
Sam's attention was drawn again to the uniform her cousin wore. She fixated on the logo emblazoning it. Suddenly, she realized what she was looking at. It had been modified, but the underlying pattern and the colours were all the same.
"Amy… Why?" Samantha asked before covering her mouth with her hand. She sat down hard in the chair. Now she understood why no one in the family ever wanted to talk about Cousin Amelia. Sam had been meaning to email her. After she joined the Alliance, she just never seemed to find the time.
"Cerberus came to me. They said I was exactly what they'd been looking for…"
"Really, you bought that line?"
"I know," Amy sighed. "I don't know what I was thinking. Just… their offer was too good to pass up." She grimaced, then reached behind her and drew out a pistol. She held it up for Sam to look at. "Do you know what this is?"
Sam rolled her eyes. "I'm hoping it's a cheeseburger." She patted her stomach, her facetiousness reminding her that she really was hungry.
Her cousin blinked in confusion for a moment and then she began to laugh. "You know, it's so good to see you." But the smile that split Amelia's face looked strained. It was not at all like the easy grin she used to wear when they'd goof around as kids; the one that could get both of them out of trouble with their parents as soon as she flashed it. The smile quickly faded as her cousin approached, holding the pistol by the barrel in offering. "Do you know how to use it?"
Sam gingerly accepted it. "Uhm, I can shoot, if that's what you're asking. Everyone learns that in basic, but… it's, uh, been a while…"
"This is a Cerberus issue Harpy—they're rare, but they pack a punch," Amy paused as Sam looked hopelessly confused. "Listen, I wish I had more time to explain, Sammy, but I only managed to disable the cameras in this room for just a few minutes. You're lucky I spotted your name on the roster… I said it was good to see you—and it is—but I really wish you hadn't come."
"I don't understand…"
"Samantha, listen to me carefully!" As a teen Amelia had never been serious; it was so foreign to hear the sharp bite of command in her voice that Sam instinctively straightened. "This is not a refugee camp… Cerberus is doing some really bad shit here. They are experimenting on the refugees… I-I can't go into details." The disturbed, pale look that ghosted over Amy's face made Sam uncomfortable, signaling that she probably didn't want details anyway.
Despite that, Sam swallowed her fear and asked anyway. "Amelia, what the hell are you talking about? Please, please just explain… maybe I can help!"
"You can. They haven't confiscated your omni yet, have they?" Sam shook her head, eyes growing wider as she struggled for composure. "Good. I'm going to help you get out of here. If I upload schematics for the ductwork and maintenance passageways, do you think you can read them?"
"Y-yes."
Amelia pushed a series of buttons on her omni-tool. Samantha's lit up as it accepted the transfer. When the upload was complete, Amy crouched down next to the chair. "Call them up. I want to make sure you know where you're going." After swiping through a couple of pages of schematics, Amelia had found the one she'd been looking for. "All right. I am going to climb onto the chair and boost you up to that vent." She pointed up. "If you follow the route through the ductwork that I've highlighted," she trailed a finger over the glowing orange image, tracing the path, "you'll come into an extranet server room. I think I can bypass the firewall for a few seconds so you can get a message out." Amelia paused to make sure what she was saying would sink in through her cousin's fright. "Is there someone, anyone at all, you trust to send a message to? Someone who will understand and send help?"
She sagged forward. There was only one person; the person she had come to Horizon to escape from. Sam recalled Liara's somber expression as the asari watched her board the Citadel's rapid transit, destined for the docking bay where her transport waited. She had spotted Liara, hiding unsuccessfully in a queue, through the cab's window just before her departure.
Rubbing her temples, Sam let out a shaky breath. "If I get the message out, what happens then?"
Amy pulled some extra clips out of her pockets, offering them to her cousin. "I don't know… The only thing I do know is that the shit is about to hit the fan. The reapers are on their way here."
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Endnote: Thanks once more to ML. I was sleep deprived when I edited this, though.