Deus Ex Human Revolution is the property of Eidos/Square Enix
Mass Effect is the property of Bioware and Electronic Arts
Mass Effect: Human Revolution:
Chapter 45: Almost home... part 2.
~[h+]~
Voice Cast:
John DiMaggio as Marcus Tân Aderyn
~[h+]~
Marcus, along with a few others, had been given papers, a credit chit, and a quick shuttle ride off the Saratoga and onto the station.
"Alright, boys!" said the Marine officer just as they were about to land. Welcome to the Citadel — Five whole cities in one! The food sucks, but the hookers are legal, so it all evens out! You've got a whole day to see the sights, fuck some aliens, and then you come right back here at 0100 hours local time for your ride home. Now, intel suggests that a bunch of Ossies and Coolies are ALSO here, but this ain't our turf so we play nice. Don't hit them unless they hit you first, understood?!"
"Sir, yes, sir!" came the reply from the 20 marines in the shuttle, except Marcus, who was pondering what he would have for lunch, dinner and sometime in between. Are there any good bakeries in the Citadel? he wondered.
When the shuttle landed, Marcus was the first one out, and he didn't wait to be put with a group, since he had different orders: report to dock 514, await the Durendal's arrival, contact one Captain Edward Grey, and give him the transfer papers. He shouldered his duffel bag and grabbed Finn's cage, and made his way to the nearest customs checkpoint. As he did so, his fellow marines said a few things behind his back:
"Glad we don't have to work with THAT freak."
"I know, right?"
"Who's got the rotten luck of getting that moron as a support gunner?"
"The Deep Eyes, I hear."
"Ha! Well, never mind then!"
"They still around? I thought DARPA would have ground what was left to dust."
"How?"
"Testing a bunch of crap weapons, duh..."
But Marcus wasn't really paying attention to them, for he was quite taken by the awesome sight of the Citadel's arms. Why, as he looked up, there was another city up there, abuzz with its own activity, full of lights and people and things! He could barely contain his excitement, and hoped to see as much of the city as possible before the time of his rendez-vous.
He was also quite blissfully unaware that the Deep Eyes was considered by everyone in the Marine Corps to be a dishonoured unit. When Marcus had been told that the Deep Eyes operated outside Sol, he gladly thanked his superiors for the opportunity, unaware that he was considered too large to join a Riflemen's unit and that he was too large to join the Cavalry, and that nobody else would take him anyway.
"Please step on the circle and hold still," asked the Asari C-Sec officer as Marcus approached the shuttle port's checkpoint. Marcus did what he was told, and waited while he was being scanned. He caught glimpses of the Silversun Strip from where he stood: advertisements streamed by on holographic billboards on tall buildings festooned with multicoloured rods of light. Casinos, arcades, restaurants, and even an Armax Battle Arena awaited him beyond the nearby exit.
"Finn," said Marcus out loud, "I think today's going to be awesome!"
"Arf! Arf!" came the happy, eager reply from the portable cage.
"Cute pet," said the C-Sec officer, smiling. "Alright, you're clear. Have fun out there, kid."
"HEY!" bellowed one of the marines — the one with a faux-hawk — behind him once the young private was through the checkpoint. "TRY NOT TO BLOW YOURSELF UP ON THE FIRST DAY!"
"Thank you! I'll try!" he shouted back, waving and smiling, mistaking derision for concern.
Marcus exited the small shuttle port, and took a deep breath of the fresh, reprocessed air. Silversun was a hive of foot traffic, but the marine had no trouble navigating it, as people preferred to keep a wide berth rather than stay in his way.
For all the sights on the ground, though, Marcus found himself staring at glimpses of the starry void and the bright nebula cloud that he could make out between the buildings and the gaps between the Citadel's arms, wondering how much farther it would be to Amaethon, and if the Durendal would take him there...
~[h+]~
More than a hundred kilometres away from the Citadel, 8 bodies silently sped through the dark, having been catapulted by the sudden decompression of an airlock and accelerated by blasts of cold gas. Their destination was a cloud of debris that surrounded one of the Mass Shadow generators, the ancient machines protecting the Citadel from FTL strikes.
"Alright," said Garrus over the TEAMCOM. "Get ready to fire your thrusters in the opposite direction... on my mark... in 3, 2, 1, MARK!"
Plumes of white smoke burst from arm-mounted thrusters, eroding the inertia of the eight bodies, and eventually causing them stop at the threshold of the Scrapyard.
"Wow. What a dump," said Echo.
"It IS a dump," said Drebin.
"It... feels more like a graveyard," said Manah. Adam found himself agreeing with her. There was something unsettling about the sight of the wrecks, partially lit by the gloom of the Widow Cloud. They looked like beached whales, picked then torn apart by vultures then left to rot.
"Right," agreed Echo, "and it's one hell of a dump. I don't think I've ever seen so much garbage floating in space. Lots of cover and places to hide. I like it."
"It wasn't always a dump," said Garrus. "At first it was more, as T'soni said, a graveyard. They even put a nice little memorial somewhere around here, to commemorate the first casualties of the Krogan Rebellions. Then people started tossing their garbage in there."
Ramsus' laughter echoed through the TEAMCOM. He was floating not 5 meters away from Jensen, in a modified version of the Nyx hardsuit protecting him from the vacuum of space. The left sleeve, useless without a functional arm, was taped against his abdomen. "So much for honouring the dead."
Adam, with Manah on his back, looked nervously at the moving debris moving around the corpses of dead warships. All it would take is one wrong move and it would be all over. "So we go in, hide in there for a while until the Durendal gives the all-clear... and then what?"
"We hijack one of the Junkyard Dogs," said Brea.
"The what now?" asked Echo.
"Drones," explained Garrus. "The size of corvettes. They tug the wrecks back into the scrapyard if they stray too far. They occasionally return to the Citadel for maintenance. We get in one, do some techno-wizardry on it, and ride it back home."
"Sounds like a plan," said Adam. "So where are these junkyard dogs?"
"Right over... err."
"'Err'? I do NOT like the sound of that 'err'." Adam looked at Brea, who had come up with this plan along with Garrus.
"...It seems we assumed that the drones would be easier to find in this—"
"This field of junk that's almost as big as the Citadel itself?" said Adam.
"...Yes."
"I don't see what the problem is," said Ramsus. "If you can't go to your prey, bring your prey to you."
"What are you thinking?" asked Drebin.
"As Vakarian said," replied Ramsus. "The Junkyard Dogs live for one thing. We make that thing happen, and they will come to us."
"...You mean displace one of the large wrecks," said Brea.
"Precisely."
"Idiot," she replied dismissively. "All we've got are cold gas thrusters, and we'll need what's left of those to navigate this place."
Ramsus groaned audibly. "For such a smart woman, you're sorely lacking in imagination."
"...There could be some fuel left in those engines," suggested Drebin.
"We wouldn't need much to get one of those wrecks moving," agreed Garrus. "An explosion would do... Or better yet! If we could get an engine firing... yeah, the Junkyard Dogs would come running."
"It's a far better plan than wandering and wasting propellant looking for drones that might not be close," said Ramsus.
"...Fine." Brea relented, but relunctantly. "Let's look for an intact engine, of course, if we find one of these tugs on the way..."
"We know, we know..." said Garrus. "Alright, everyone sync your helmets' gyros and HUDs to mine and follow my lead. Adam?"
"Hm? Yeah?"
"Are you going to be okay?"
"I'll be fine. Zero-G training's coming back to me."
"Yeah, well, considering you barely got a passing grade in Zero-G..." Garrus paused. "...Be careful, alright? Don't try to pull off any advanced manoeuvres."
"I know, I know..."
Garrus guided the group through the dense field of debris, making good time from large wreck to wreck. They inspected each and every single on their way, hoping to find something in semi functional condition. They eventually found part of a Krogan asteroid ship, with an engine sticking out of the rock.
"That engine looks mostly intact..." said Garrus.
"And made of millenia-old metal," commented Brea.
"The tank's ruptured," said Drebin, "but we can patch that with some Omni-Gel and a spare plate. All we need is some fuel."
"Guys!" said Echo, emerging from behind a pylon "I think the engine room can still hold air!"
"I think we've got our bait," said Garrus. "Alright, everyone, this is going to be our little base of operation. Me, Adam, and Brea will go on the lookout for some fuel. Drebin will handle the patch, and Echo, T'soni and Ramsus will stay here."
"Hold on a second," said Adam. "I'm not leaving T'soni alone with him."
It was then that Teg approached Adam and held out its three-fingered hand.
"The mech has her covered, Adam," said Brea, typing instructions to the machine with her Omni-Tool. "And I think it would be best if I stayed behind to keep an eye on Ramsus. You and Vakarian have the most propellant, after all."
Reluctantly, Adam motioned Manah to let go of him, then pushed her towards the mech. "Careful, don't gesticulate..." he instructed, as she floated away towards the robot.
"Eeee..." Manah made herself small, as small as she could feel in her oversized EVA suit, and allowed herself to be caught by the robot. Teg was a bit brusque, but he brought Manah around without so much as bruising her, and she wrapped her arms around its neck. Adam double checked her grip: satisfied that she wasn't going to fly off any time soon, he formed up next to Garrus.
"Hey guys!" Echo called out over the TEAMCOM before the two could leave. "If you can, bring us some breathable gas — we could be here for a while after all, and we've only got maybe two hours of air left."
"Also," added Drebin. "We might need some power cells for the ignition lasers... and we might actually need a replacement ignition laser array, too... and a spare fuel pump. Too early to tell."
"Want an entire engine, while we're at it?" replied Adam, sarcastically.
"Hey, if you wanted a miracle with this relic, you should have brought one of the Quarians."
"We'll be on the lookout," answered Garrus. "Alright, partner. Let's put that Zero-G training to use..."
~[h+]~
Adam and Garrus explored the Scrapyard for about half an hour, looking for both fuel and air. During that time, Adam had managed to hit (by Garrus' count) three asteroids, two asari corvettes, six krogan attack pods, and seven pieces of miscellaneous junk. Each time, Garrus had to catch Adam and keep him from tumbling away into the void. The Turian didn't mind so much, as he had the most propellant since his OVO packs and plasma jets had been replaced with two cold-gas tanks and a pair of thruster nozzles. Eventually, Garrus' instructions sank in, and Adam had less and less trouble navigating a hazardous zero-g environment like the Scrapyard.
"Really regretting not putting more time in the sims," said Adam.
"We barely had time," said Garrus. "The criminals on the Citadel kept us pretty busy."
"And here we are, about to go back to that."
"...Honestly, after all the insanity we've been through, punching crooks will be a vacation in comparison."
"Yeah, no kidding..."
Finding air had been easy enough: Adam managed to find the remains of an Asari frigate and pulled a full tank of breathable gas from deep within the hull. Asari air had a bit less nitrogen and a bit more oxygen than what humans liked to breathe, but not so much that it would make everyone feel light-headed.
"Good find, Adam," said Garrus as he scanned the canister in Adam's hands. "That should keep us going for a while."
"That thing's maybe hundreds of years old," said Adam as he cast his helmet's lights over the ship's hull, trying to decipher its name, marred by bullet holes and the impact of debris.
"Close to a thousand," agreed Garrus. "But it should still work. Might smell a little stale, though."
"Any luck finding fuel?"
"Managed to find a power cell," said Garrus, gesturing to a cylinder of his own. "But no fuel."
"Damn. How are we doing for air?"
"We're doing fine, but we should be more worried about propellant. I still got plenty, but exploring this place is going to take more than we've got. We should pick our next target carefully."
"Hm..." Adam paused to consider a moment. "What are those, exactly?" he pointed at one of the smaller derelict ships, which looked like some kind of jet-bike with an armoured cockpit, a machine gun, and a pair of missile pods. Judging by its bulbous shape and the way it was painted, it was most certainly a Krogan craft.
"Krogan battle pod," explained Garrus. "Closest thing that the Krogan ever had to a fighter craft."
"It looks intimidating, but I don't think it could take on a space fighter. Bit too small..."
"Not meant to. Krogan were never really big on aerial — or spacial — acrobatics. The whole point of the battle pod was to transport a single Krogan soldier from point A to point B and do as much damage along the way. The Krogan could field thousands of those — it's barely larger than an actual Krogan, so it's cheap to make — enough to overwhelm any anti-aircraft defence. Once the swarm's fuel and ammunition was spent, the Krogan shock troopers inside the pods parachuted on the ground or boarded a vessel."
"...Casualties must have been INSANE."
"They were, but it's not like the Krogan cared at the time."
"They would breed replacements fast..."
"Right, and — people keep forgetting this — the Krogan also had one hell of an heavy industry. I mean, look around: there's thousands of those pods drifting all over the scrapyard."
"...Is that right? What kind of propulsion did those battle pods use?"
"Fusion pulse torches..." Garrus sensed where Adam was going with this. "Forget it: look at this pod: it's mostly intact, so that means its pilot ditched it. There's no fuel in there."
"Maybe not in this one, but there's bound to be plenty of pods that didn't get a chance to spend all their fuel."
"... it's possible."
"Let's look for a battle pod with a punctured cockpit, then."
They didn't have to travel far to find one: as Garrus said, Krogan Battle Pods were all over the Scrapyard. Adam investigated one of the ancient craft, and pulled out its long dead occupant out of the back of the cockpit. "Sorry, old timer," he said to the armoured corpse. "Need a look inside..."
Let's see, he thought as he peered inside the machine, the fusion torches are mounted under the seat and to the sides... next to the center of mass... so let's follow those tubes and... there. He pulled out a pair of cylinders made of a thermally non-conductive material, strapped together with tape, both still connected to the engine through a pair of tubes. He shook them a bit. "Doesn't feel empty," he said to Garrus.
"That's because it's not," replied Garrus, already scanning the tank with his Omni-Tool. "There's 67 millilitres of liquid Helium-3 in one tank with 64 millilitres of deuterium. Be careful... Liquid Helium-3 is very, VERY cold."
"How about we just pinch off the tubes and then cut them from the engine?"
"That's probably the way to go, yes. Here, let me do it..."
A minute later, Adam and Garrus had recovered the fuel without spilling any out into space. "We need about ten litres of the stuff to get that monster of an engine to burn long enough."
"Let's get scavenging, then. But first..."
They topped off their air tanks by using the Asari gas canister, and proceeded to go from battle pod to battle pod, recovering any fuel tank with so much as a few millilitres of fuel. Before long Garrus had stuck close to 20 fuel cans together with Omni-Gel, and pulled them by wire. the load was getting a bit too much, as the cannisters were pretty heavy, even empty. Thus far, they had gathered maybe six litres of fuel, but their luck began to run out along with their propellant, as fewer and fewer intact Battle Pods were being found, let alone intact fuel tanks.
And then, Adam struck gold, so to speak. He came across a chunk of an asteroid ship. On one side, it looked more like a huge chunk of rock, but on the other side there was scaffolding and fuel tanks. He had just found a refuelling dock for battle pods, capable of servicing a hundred of them at a time.
It was too bad it suffered a strafing run, nearly a thousand years ago.
"Not a single fuel tank here that isn't riddled with holes," commented Garrus as he tied the stack of fuel tanks to a nearby crossbeam. "Not that we could have carried one of those back to the engine. They're all pretty large."
"Maybe, but there's bound to be a pod around with a full tank."
"Even if we don't, six litres should get the job done."
Much like the tanks, there didn't seem be a single intact Battle Pod that hadn't been thoroughly perforated by a Salarian autocannon... until Adam found one that didn't seem damaged at all. "Well, I'll be damned. Vakarian, look at what I found!"
"Huh. Not a single scratch... Think it's got a full tank?"
"Let's see..." as soon as Adam touched the Pod, its lights pulsed to life, and the screens inside the cockpit flickered on.
"How did you do that?" asked Garrus, but Adam wasn't quite listening to him, as he was already inside the cockpit, playing around with the controls.
"According to the HUD, it does, and seeing as there isn't a red blip on the startup screen, I think it's still fully functional. Even the weapons work."
"I would prefer it if we didn't mess around with millennia-old munitions, you know?"
"Still, how about a ride?"
~[h+]~
As the Relic of an ancient war detached from the wreck, something was watching it from the shadows of an hollowed out Asari cruiser.
~[h+]~
While Teg was moving a freshly cut plate of metal into place for Drebin to weld it onto the damaged fuel tank, Manah found herself staring out in space, wondering about the battle that had taken place here so long ago. Then, she wondered about the Citadel itself: it occurred to her then that she had never seen the vast space station before. She knew she would have a close enough look at it soon enough, but the chance to see it from far away may not present itself again. Before she could ask her leave, Garrus Vakarian spoke over the TEAMCOM.
"Hey everyone, we managed to get our hands on seven litres of fuel, some breathable gas, and a power cell."
"And we also found a Krogan Battle Pod in working order," said Adam. "We're using it to transport the tanks to save on propellant."
"Good to hear," said Drebin. "We just finished sealing up the fuel tank. Say, what kind of engines does that 'Battle Pod' have?"
"Small fusion torches, looks like."
"Good. I might be able to cannibalize some much needed parts out of them. Good job."
"Thanks. We'll be there in... huh."
"What is it?" asked Brea, who had been listening in even as she kept a weapon trained on Ramsus.
"...I thought I saw something move."
"It was probably just some debris," reassured Garrus. "A lot of stuff keeps moving around because of the mass shadows."
"...Right, better keep an eye out, though. ETA 5 minutes."
"Excuse me..." said Manah, sensing her opportunity to finally speak. "May I go outside?"
"No," said Brea, flatly. "Stay in the ship."
"But... it's so dark in here..." she pleaded. "I won't go far, I promise."
"Considering you've got a priceless Prothean artifact strapped to your suit," added Brea, "I would prefer if you stayed right where you are."
"Aw, come on," said Echo. "Let her grab some sunshine."
"And it's not like I need Teg right now," agreed Drebin as he started taking a look at the fusion drive's ignition chamber. "I don't see any harm in letting her go outside for a bit."
"...Oh, fine," Brea finally relented. "But I'm instructing the mech to stay within ten meters of the entrance."
"Oh, that's quite all right!" Manah replied cheerfully. "I just want to get a look at the Citadel."
"Yes, well, good luck with that."
Teg fired his thrusters and brought Manah just outside the crust of the Krogan rock ship and, as the mech had completely understood what Manah had said earlier, brought her in an ideal position to see the Citadel, past the rocks and the wrecks that littered the Scrapyard. It hung there among the stars, past the line that seemed to divide deep space and the huge cloud that glowed with Widow's light. Its five wards, each thirty kilometres long, gleamed in the dark as thousands of little lights hovered about, some blinking, some unmoving. Starships, she realized. Probably more than she had ever seen in one place at once, ever. She noticed a red rectangle approaching the mighty space station, and wondered what it was.
That would be the Agamemnon. Yang Wen-Li's super-carrier. As you can see, even when compared to the Citadel, it is quite massive at five kilometres in length. I wonder if they serve real Chinese food in the mess hall? I could eat.
"Who said that?" asked Manah, frantically looking around for the source of the voice inside her head.
"Who said what?" asked Brea.
"...I thought I heard someone say something."
Brea can't hear me. I'm not speaking to her.
Manah wondered if she had gone mad.
No, you are neither psychotic nor schizophrenic. Come now, surely you haven't forgotten my voice?
Ramsus? she thought. She looked at the strange human, clad in his white armour. He was floating there, unmoving, as if enjoying a warm bath.
Yes, it is I. I was hoping if you were in the mood for a chat... the voices in MY head aren't really as pleasant as yours, and not capable of very scintillating conversation.
What voices would those be? thought Manah.
...Can't you hear them? Don't you know what happened here?
It occurred to Manah that while she had encyclopedic knowledge of the Protheans, her knowledge of more recent galactic history was quite lacking.
To sum up, when the Krogan started their doomed Rebellion, they started with a Trojan Horse attack. It was stopped when a Spectre tampered with one of the mass shadow generators and trapped the Krogan fleet inside a gravity storm. The Citadel's defence fleet moved in to engage them in close combat and won. What the history books and the Codex fail to mention is that once you're inside a gravity storm... there's no getting out.
Manah then heard loud whispers in the shadows of her mind. She couldn't make out the words, but the emotions laced in them... rage, despair, panic... those were all too clear.
When the battle was... 'over', the storm still raged, and any attempt at rescue was doomed. For months the survivors struggled for meager resources: energy, food... AIR. Eventually the storm subsided as the Mass Shadow Generator resumed its proper function... though the shredded remains of warships still clung around it like a stench.
This cannot be true, thought Manah. Can it? If history hasn't recorded the facts, how could YOU possibly glean them?
You're. Not. LISTENING. This place is filled with the echoes of the damned, who are doomed to replay their torment forever...
LISTEN TO THEM.
The voices became a tidal wave that washed over Manah and blasted her with a thousand screams
HELP US PLEASE
My brood
The Atalanta is going down
Cold
The witches are trying to flank us
Is this our reward
Citadel please respond
Not like this
Fire Fire Fire
Stop breathing my air
BRACE FOR IMPACT
It's so cold
I'm sorry I'm so hungry and you're dead I'm sorry
STOP BREATHING MY AIR
Why did she abandon me
FOR TUCHANKA
Curse you Spectre Curse you Curse You CurSe YOU
"T'soni, you okay?" asked Echo over the TEAMCOM. "You're gasping for air... is your tank ruptured?"
"I-I I am all right!" replied Manah out loud, gulping hard. "I just... I think we need to get out of here, and soon..."
"Yeah, working on that," said Drebin.
"Ms Brea? I've seen enough. I think I would rather be inside."
~[h+]~
Ramsus watched as Brea instructed the mech to bring the Asari back inside the rock ship's husk. He sniffed, smelling the copper scent of blood: his powers had waned considerably, and transmitting his thoughts into another had required far more effort and focus than before... enough to cause him pain.
He saw Jensen and Vakarian approach in their commandeered little ship, with the tanks in tow far behind, to prevent the engine wash from the battle pod from damaging them, then he watched as Manah practically leapt away from the Mech and into Adam's arms. She said she wanted to explore the inside of the vessel, and the custom clone joined in for the hell of it.
And then, Ramsus felt something tingle in the side of his skull. He looked around, and could have sworn he saw the blur of a shadow of a Luna Moth, between two rocks and a fractured fuel tank.
"We are being watched," he said, finally.
~[h+]~
Although a threat failed to manifest itself, Ramsus' warning had convinced everyone to hurry up with the engine's repairs. Drebin hit a bit of a snag when he discovered that a few of the lasers in the ignition chamber were non-functional, and he was just about to start cannibalizing the Battle Pod's engines for parts when Adam, Manah and Echo returned from the depths of the asteroid ship with, of all things, a spare ignition chamber with a full set of functioning lasers. Switching it out for the damaged one had proven easy, and as Drebin loaded a drop of deuterium mixed with helium-3 into it he asked the trio how they had managed to find it.
As it turned out, it was Manah that had led them to a storage room with various spare parts. How she had managed to find it in the vastness of the ruined warship, she had not shared... though Ramsus snickered meaningfully at her evasiveness.
It was fortunate, too, as sparing the battle pod had provided the team with some much needed transportation away from the soon to be reactivated engine. The Pod had plenty of handles on its hull for the team to hold on to, though Manah had to ride on the backseat.
Once Adam drove the Pod well away from any potential danger, Drebin activated his Omni-Tool, and a big glowing holographic button appeared on his wrist with the word 'IGNITION' printed on it. "Lasers are fully charged. Who wants to do the honours?"
"Well, you are the one who did most of the work," replied Adam. "It's your show."
Drebin pressed the button, and almost immediately the lasers fired at the center of the ignition chamber, where a single millilitre of fuel turned into a purple fireball, kickstarting a chain-reaction that powered magnetic accelerator solenoid coils. Said coils funnelled purple fusion plasma out of an aerospike nozzle, providing an incredible amount of thrust.
Slowly, the chunk of rock the ancient engine was attached to began to move.
"Such a lovely colour!" commented Manah cheerfully.
"You'd think the Krogan would prefer a manlier one," said Echo. "Like red, or something."
"Huh," said Drebin. "It actually worked. Krogan were better engineers than anyone ever gave them credit, it seems."
Brea was not pleased to hear this. "Wait, you were expecting to FAIL?"
"It's a thousand year old fusion drive," replied Drebin. "I honestly figured it would explode as soon as the fuel ignited. Even then, the rock would have been pushed off."
"Then why did you even bother fixing it? We could have—"
"This is better," Garrus cut Brea off. "The longer the engine goes, the longer the dogs will have to stay and try to move the wreck back into place. Should give us a larger window of opportunity."
"Speaking of which," said Adam. "I think I see them coming."
From the shadows of the Scrapyard emerged seven cube-shaped vessels, all covered in rusty orange paint scratched and chipped at the edges to reveal the titanium underneath. Each had a pair of rotating thruster pods that spat blue plasma out of their nozzles. There were eight of those unmanned, automated ships, and the team watched as they swarmed over the moving wreck. The nearest Junkyard Dog had already opened its two huge crab claws, the inside of which were lined with mass effect generators, ready to clamp down on the rocky surface of the Krogan ship.
The ships took their positions at several key spots on the mighty hulk, and it was then that Adam got a better idea of their size, relative to the gigantic, four hundred meter long chunk of rock: the Dogs were each around thirty metres to a side, which meant that there should be plenty of room to them hide in one... provided they could access a maintenance hatch.
"Go, go, go!" urged Garrus as the Dogs fired their engines, trying to tame the ship they were attached to. Adam flew in close to one of them, careful to avoid its engine wash. Garrus was the first to leap off the pod, and he forced the maintenance hatch open, his muscles assisted by the thick Carbon nanotube cord of his modified Seraph Armour. While he had little hope of putting a dent on the ship's thick impact resistant armour, the lock on the hatch was another story entirely.
"Ever heard of lockpicking?" commented Brea.
"Couldn't see a lock to slap Omni-Gel on," said Garrus as he peered inside. "Hm, not very roomy in there."
"Hard to believe... This thing's the size of a house," said Adam.
"Yeah, but it was never meant to have a crew," replied Garrus. "Still, there's enough room in the computer core for the lot of us. It's also the coolest part of the ship."
Echo went in first, eager to start the hack, and Brea was next, pushing Ramsus in at gunpoint.
"See anything?" Adam asked Garrus, who was walking on the Junkyard Dog's hull, scanning the area for enemies with his eyes alone, the Longinus in hand, ready to fire.
"No." The turian sighed. "I wish our suit's scanners came with better range... and there's so much movement out there its hard to spot anything."
"You guys worry too much," said Echo. "Anyways, Drebin and I finished hacking this thing's brain. We convinced it that it's time to return home for a tune-up."
"The way to the Citadel is going to be a bit slow," warned Brea. "There's no inertial damper or artificial gravity or even chairs in this thing. If we accelerate too fast..."
"We know, we know," dismissed Echo. "Anyways, we're ready to go when you are, Adam."
It was actually Manah's turn to go into the ship, after everyone else had gone. Adam gently pushed her out of the Battle Pod's cockpit which, for some unfathomable reason, left the pilot's back completely exposed to the void of space. Teg was at the Junkyard Dog's maintenance hatch ready to receive her.
"Careful," said Adam.
Manah's reply was static.
"Can you read me?"
More static, this time from everyone. Adam caught Brea's eye and tapped the side of his helmet, and she replied in kind. Something's jamming us, thought Adam, but before he could complete the thought Manah flared with a biotic aura, and the next thing he felt was a dozen shockwaves exploding all around him, and the last thing he saw was a mechanical butterfly streaking by.
~[h+]~
Adam had no idea how long he had been unconscious when Garrus shook him awake. He could make out his name through the static as he opened his eyes. His partner had opened his helmet's face plate, revealing the polarized glass inside. As he tapped it, Adam knew that he had to do the same.
As Adam pressed his helmet against Garrus', he couldn't help but think about how glad he was that Verner wasn't around to misinterpret the whole situation.
"Argh...what happened?" asked Adam out loud, his voice vibrating through the glass.
"We got attacked," replied Garrus. "I don't know by who and what... all I know is that it was very fast and very blurry and packed a lot of firepower."
"No, the ship! Is everyone—"
"The Dog's severely damaged, Echo and Brea are unconscious and wounded, but stable. Drebin's trying to get the Dog working, but Teg is down for the count."
"And T'soni?"
"She isn't here. Whatever attacked us grabbed her, along with Ramsus. They're gone, Adam... I'm sorry."
"God damn it..."
"Hold on, there might be a way to track them down. The Mech grabbed my gun when I was knocked away by a stray missile blast — it managed to land a hit, and I'm pretty sure he hit something important. Could have been a fuel tank, or something, but we can track it using the Battle Pod... the sensors still work, right?"
~[h+]~
With Garrus riding on the Battle Pod's side, Longinus in hand and ready to fire, Adam navigated the ancient Krogan craft, tracking a thin trail of mist that stood out like a river of fire on the Battle Pod's cockpit's orange monochrome CRT screens.
In space, there was no top speed: the only thing that mattered how much fuel you burned before reaching light speed... and Adam had spent a lot already, and spent some more adjusting his course around debris. Adam may have been a terrible space walker, but years of driving a shitty old car with inertial compensators that broke down every other day had made him a competent pilot.
"Drebin here," said the Omar through a TEAMCOM channel laced with static. "Can you guys hear me?"
"I read you three by five, Drebin," replied Adam. "What's your status?"
"Whoever attacked us got really pissed when we tried to make a run for it... starboard engines are ruined, and we lost a heat sink along with the primary sensor dish and much of the hull. As for the crew, well... Echo's still out of it, but I think Brea's waking up. Teg lost its right arm, but its still functional. How about you? Manah threw you pretty hard."
"She did? Why?"
"She saw the attack coming before we did. If she hadn't pushed you away those missiles would have annihilated you."
"I see... I guess I owe her one. Drebin, can you hijack any of the other Junkyard Dogs?"
"They're long gone, Jensen. The one we got isn't a complete loss, though. I can reorient the port engines and get plenty of thrust, but I'll be flying half blind. What's the plan?"
"You good for air?"
"That tank you got us should last us a day."
"Good. Stay where you are for now. We'll try and find whoever attacked us. If we go silent for an hour... then leave without us."
There was a hiss of pain over the channel, and Brea's voice rang through it almost clearly. "...I don't suppose I can convince you to put a lid on the heroics for now?"
"No," replied Adam. "Seeing as your two most valuable assets just got kidnapped, I thought you'd be all for getting them back."
"Yes, but seeing as our two best weapons are an ancient glorified jet bike and a Seraph power-suit nearly out of propellant, I'm thinking we should regroup. Whoever captured T'soni wanted her alive, obviously. We can track her down."
"Maybe you're right, but I'm not giving up just yet. Did you get a good look at our attacker?"
"Sorry, but no."
"Check the Mech's memory!" urged Garrus. "It managed to land a hit on it, so maybe it got a good look?"
Brea considered Garrus' suggestion for a moment. "Possibly... Let me check."
A few seconds later, Teg came on the channel, and warbled a strangely familiar stream of beeps in Adam's ear. His HUD requested that he accept an incoming data packet, and once he did an image appeared in the corner of his vision.
It was a woman, connected to a pair of nacelles and wings through a backpack with mechanized arms, all conspiring to give her the shape of a blue metallic Luna Moth, stained with white paisley motifs. The actual earth insect, as Adam recalled, lacked the long, blue glowing tail that the machine was sporting... and easily reminded Adam of Hannibal's own sword tail. The whole thing was about as large as an aircar, and yet had managed to severely damage a ship ten times its size.
A woman in blue armour that just jammed their communications before attacking and singling out T'soni for capture. It wasn't hard to hazard a guess who had attacked them, based on those two facts alone.
"Vasir," concluded Adam.
"Has to be," agreed Garrus.
"That trail is getting denser. I think we're catching up."
"What's the plan?"
"I'm not— whoa!"
Upon seeing the sleek gleaming hull of the Lepída, Adam spun the battle pod around to reverse thrust and bring it to a complete stop. The Asari corvette was just drifting there amidst the debris, not reacting to Adam and Garrus' presence at all. And its crew should have certainly reacted: the Battle Pod should have been a bright dot on their thermal sensor readouts by then.
"Adam, what's happening?" asked Brea over the TEAMCOM. "Are you all right?"
"We're fine," replied Adam. "We've found Vasir's ship."
Brea couldn't believe what she was hearing, by the sound of her tone. "What, it's just parked there?"
"Near as I can tell, no one's at the helm," replied Adam. Just then, a stray piece of debris hit the corvette, and was knocked away by a blast of blue energy. "Shields are still up, though, as are the tracking lights."
"I'm going to take a wild guess and say that Ramsus killed everyone aboard," said Garrus.
"Then why hasn't he called for help?" asked Brea. "Or just flew the ship out of here?"
"Well, let's find out." Adam accelerated the Battle Pod towards the corvette, approaching it from behind, where the GARDIAN laser coverage was negligible — or so he hoped.
"Jensen..." Brea began, but Adam cut her off.
"I know, I know," Adam's tone was dismissive. "'T'soni and Ramsus are important assets and you must do everything you can to save them'. Tell the Broker not to worry."
"...Good," replied Brea, a bit disappointed. "I mean, it's good that we're on the same page."
"Though if Ramsus tries to kill us, I'll shoot him dead. Fair warning."
~[h+]~
They entered through the corvette's cargo bay, as its doors were open, wide enough for Adam to bring the Battle Pod for a landing. Though the ship's artificial gravity was online, it seemed that the large chamber they were in was completely devoid of air. That wasn't a good sign. The flickering lights and bullet holes on the curved while walls were even worse.
On other hand, the ship's WLAN was still active, and Adam breached it while Garrus investigated the immediate area. "Well, that's no good," he said, disappointed. "I don't see Vasir's fancy jetpack anywhere."
From the look of things, some of the crew here had attempted to put together a force cage. Something had interrupted them, of course, and violently.
He then turned his attention to one of the handful of dead bodies on the ground: a Krogan in heavy armour in desert camouflage. He was laying just under a deep dent in the wall, the glittering of which reminded him of something. He scanned the hull with his Omni-Tool, and realized that the Lepída was protected by Silaris class armour. Judging by the Krogan's fractured skeletons and ruptured organs, it was obvious that someone had thrown him so hard it put a dent into something that could shrug off an autocannon round.
"Think Ramsus did this?" asked Garrus.
"No," replied Brea over the radio. "He no longer has the implant architecture necessary to pull something like this off."
"T'soni could do it," supplied Adam.
"T'soni doesn't have any implants either," dismissed Brea.
"That didn't stop her from helping me fend off a Templar Wanzer," Adam countered. "Looks like this Krogan tried to get fresh with her and paid the price," he added, with a hint of pride.
Adam commanded the ship to close the cargo bay doors. Breathable gas rushed back in, its hiss growing louder and louder until the pressure reached a full atmosphere. Adam and Garrus' suits slowly replenished their air tanks automatically. The lights came on, illuminating the scene and the blood on the walls.
There had been 19 people crewing the ship, and according to the data relayed from their Omni-Tools to the central computer, they were all dead.
More reports came into Adam's head. Auxiliary power was at 99 percent, but the main reactor had been deactivated. Adam quickly looked into the security cam feed in engineering. The Salarian in charge of keeping the engines going had stuck his head in the ignition chamber. The other video feeds confirmed what the computer had already told him. Corpses, corpses everywhere, and no sign of T'soni.
Or Vasir.
"I think I see Ramsus," said Adam. "He's in the sickbay."
"From the sound of things the ship looks secure," said Brea. "We're headed for your current location. We'll arrive shortly."
~[h+]~
Adam commanded the door towards the center of the ship open, and in the hall they saw a dead Drell. The ship's pilot, by the look of his outfit.
"Three shots," said Garrus as he examined the body. "Two to the chest... one meant for the head, but it went a bit wide. Pistol caliber, judging by the size of the holes."
"Too clean. Not Ramsus' style," commented Adam.
"Who else could have done any of this?" said Garrus. "By the look of things it sounds like he drove the crew nuts."
"Maybe... but if he could have done that, he'd have done it to us first. We are holding him prisoner, after all."
"Well, we can ask him when we get to him."
~[h+]~
Ramsus woke up from his unpleasant slumber as stimulants coursed through his veins, only to find the business ends of a revolver and a particle rifle aimed straight at his face. It took a moment for him to get a good look at the people behind the weapons, and he breathed a sigh of relief, then let out a chuckle of amusement.
"Well, at least you didn't slap me awake this time."
Adam and Garrus said nothing, and just watched him.
"Ahem! Could you untie me?"
"...Remember what happened the last time?" said Adam.
Ramsus stared down at this restraints on the medical bed. "Do I look like I'm in any position to masturbate?!"
"Not that one," said Adam, coolly, his gun steady.
"I will destroy you?" said Garrus. "Remember?"
"I was hungry at the time!" protested Ramsus. "And angry! Which I will be if you don't put those weapons away and free me!"
Adam removed the straps while Garrus kept Ramsus covered. The human psionic, unthinking, tried to massage his wrist, only to remember that one of his arms was a useless metal prosthetic. One of Hein's jokes, Adam suspected.
"I was hoping you could tell us what happened here?" asked Adam, displaying holograms of the various corpses using his Omni-Tool.
"Well, don't look at me," protested Ramsus as he sat up, wincing in pain. "I barely had time to unravel that one's soul." He nodded to the corner, where the Quarian doctor was slumped. From the looks of things he took a scalpel to his face. "And that took nearly all my strength before..."
"...Before what?" asked Garrus.
"Before... Manah. What happened to the girl? Is she safe?"
"I haven't been able to find her on the ship's sensors," said Adam. "Or Vasir, for that matter."
"Is that the one that attacked us? Interesting. What would an Asari Spectre want with the girl?"
"What would an Asari Spectre want with you?"
"Oh, I'm afraid I was caught quite by accident. I tried to help Manah as Vasir snared her with that glowing appendage on that exoskeleton of hers... only to get myself tangled in it too. Vasir tried to shake me off a couple of times, but I held fast. I suppose she wanted to know how managed it, hence why I'm here..."
"So you claim you didn't kill the crew?" asked Garrus.
"If you don't believe me, check the ship's security footage," suggested Ramsus.
Adam used his connection to the ship's WLAN to do so, and skimmed through the footage across the entire ship for the past hour. There was no audio, as Vasir didn't want to be eavesdropped on by her own security, but the images were worth a thousand words.
First, Vasir came in for a landing, a panicking Manah and an unconscious Ramsus in tow. Then, once she disengaged from her machine, she began barking orders, biotically manhandling Manah all the while. Two crewmen came to recover Ramsus and dragged him to the infirmary, while another four came along with the parts of a force cage meant to contain her. Vasir proceeded to telekinetically tear off Manah's pack and her helmet.
Minutes passed. Vasir went to visit the pilot, no doubt to set a course for somewhere far away from here. Though judging by the caressing, it seemed that the Drell was a lot more to Vasir than just a lackey.
"Sorrow," said Ramsus, snapping Adam's attention back to Manah, who was trapped in her cage, crying. "Terror, the kind felt by the condemned upon sighting the hangman's noose... or the executioner's axe."
A Turian and Krogan hovered about her cage for a while, until finally the turian bid the Krogan to watch over him as he opened a section of the force cage. Manah backed away, terrified, the Turian's intentions all too clear to her.
Suddenly, the video became completely scrambled... for a split second, and then the Turian was simply... gone. The Krogan behind him became visibly agitated, and pointed his shotgun at T'soni, demanding answers. That was then that Manah flared bright purple and the Krogan met his fate against the wall.
"The terror was like a wave," said Ramsus, his eye fluttering and rolling back, "A song? A signal? That, alone, drove the crew mad with sorrow..."
~[h+]~
At the center of the Scrapyard was an ancient machine, that looked like the claw of a beast that held, at the tips of two digits, a black pearl. But it was no black pearl... it was a singularity, a sphere of shadow with a corona of blue light that, long ago, had trapped thousands of lives in this place.
But then something heard the call, and replied...
The corona brightened, and glowed with a burning golden light.
...With unparalleled rage!
And elsewhere, twenty souls screamed, while one was granted power.
~[h+]~
Adam watched as Vasir went to investigate the commotion, and as the static moved from place to place the crew died in its wake. Then, it was as if the static chased Vasir herself, and the Spectre was forced to kill some of her maddened crew.
~[h+]~
The corona ebbed, and resumed its blue glow.
~[h+]~
The static dispelled, and Manah stood in the cargo bay, gun in hand, covered in blood, and utterly confused. Then Vasir came into view, and kicked Manah in the back, knocking her down. Vasir, furious and angry, kicked her again, this time in the belly, and another time in the knee, and in the head. Adam took count of every strike.
"Garrus," he said. "Take note. Seven times."
Garrus, who had been watching, nodded.
"Seven times," said Ramsus with a smile, knowing what Adam intended. "I shall remember, as well."
When Vasir was done, she put Manah's helmet back on, put the pack containing the Promethean Grimoire in a compartment in her exoskeleton, and flew off with Manah in tow.
"Damn it all to hell..." Adam cursed, then transmitted to Brea. "It's me. We've found Ramsus, but T'soni... Vasir took her away."
Garrus handed Ramsus his helmet back, so that he could listen in on the conversation.
"...I see," said Brea, after a moment's pause. "That mechanized jetpack of hers... do you think it's FTL capable?"
"I doubt it."
"Then she probably took her to the Citadel. I'll see about putting a few feelers out but... Adam? Your position as a detective will be useful in finding her."
"I know. How close are you? The sooner we get home, the sooner we can get to tracking her down."
"We'll be there in five minutes. In the meantime, plant a few tracking viruses in the corvette's computers. If Vasir intends to leave the Citadel, it's likely she'll try to get this ship back. When she tries to recover it, we'll know, and we'll be able to track her down."
"Silaris Armour isn't cheap," agreed Garrus.
Adam got to work, but couldn't keep himself from worrying about what he had just seen, and what Ramsus had just said.
Manah... what are you, really? wondered Adam, remembering that far away look she had had when the static faded... and wondered if perhaps, just maybe, if the Justicars had been right in keeping her locked up. Despite this, he could not help but worry about her safety.
~[h+]~
Marcus had been told by the tour guide VI that, for what he had in his credit chit (which he thought was a lot, but things were REALLY EXPENSIVE HERE) his 'optimal chances' for a nice night out (or was it day? Marcus couldn't tell on a space station, and clock made no sense) was to be in the upper wards. When Marcus asked the VI what she meant, she said 'as far away from the Presidium Ring as possible (after various other explanations that made no sense to him).
The area easily reminded him of the poorer parts of Fort Monus, where Marcus grew up. Where it not for the sense of nostalgia, Marcus would not have stuck around. As it was though, he suddenly really wanted to find a court to practice his blitzball moves, then get a snack (or snacks) find a nice bench to sit on and just chill out with Finn.
There weren't any blitzball courts in this part of the Citadel, apparently, which surprised Marcus, since blitzball was the greatest sport ever. But there was ice cream and hot dogs here, and benches, so two out of three wasn't bad. As he sat down, he let Finn out of cage, and shared his meal with him.
After the sixth hot dog, Marcus burped, and checked his watch, and remembered that he was still on Hoffman Island time, and wondered if he was too late or too early to go see the Durendal.
That was when a trio of teenagers with knives asked him for all his money. Marcus, being a very nice guy, gladly gave them a bill of 5 US dollars and a couple of quarters (even though Finn growled at him not to — silly Finn didn't understand charity, you see). The trio then said that they wanted his credit chit, and Marcus explained to the nice people that if he gave them his chit that he would have no more money, and that he needed it, and that the five dollars should be plenty enough for ice cream (Marcus, of course, didn't understand that paper money was worthless on the Citadel) and that they should really be at school (or was it their bed time? Clocks made no sense here!).
When the largest of the trio pointed a knife at him, Marcus thought he was trying to give it to him, so he grabbed it by the blade and took it. When the boys saw that he wasn't even cut, they screamed and ran, though one of them made off with his duffel bag.
"Oooooooooh... I get it now!" exclaimed Marcus. "You guys are robbers, ja?"
Finn barked just then, pushing Marcus' blitzball with his nose. Marcus took it, tossed it, and... didn't kick it, remembering that the Citadel was spinning. He tossed it up again, and kicked it gently, and the ball soared into an arc that ended with the kid that stole his duffel bag. "GOOOOAAAAAL!" he shouted victoriously, as Finn ran up to the fallen crook and bit his ankles.
As Marcus got his bag back, he found himself laughing, that is until the kid cried for his mommy... and that had made feel kinda sad, so he left him a Corneto (because Cornetos always made everything better).
Hungry for more adventure, the young private went further and further away from the Presidium ring, and deeper into the Upper Ward (why did they call it that? Marcus didn't know). He then thought that maybe it was time to find a place to stay, before getting sidetracked by more food — Greasel on a stick, that is, grilled over a trash can. It was tasty, and he asked for seconds.
Finn barked, and at first Marcus thought he wanted his share, and apologized, and said he would get another. Finn barked some more, and pointed its nose up.
"Ooooooooh, an air show?" exclaimed Marcus, as he saw some kind of small plane doing tailspins in the sky (or was it space? It was hard to tell on a space station). It was shaped like a pretty bug, the kind that girls like to catch in nets. Other people around him looked up, and oo'ed, and ah'd, right alongside him, and clapped alongside him, as they found his mirth infectious and thought that perhaps this day wasn't going to be so bad, unlike all the other days.
Then, bursts of blue light popped around the plane, and then it went for a nose dive.
Finn barked, and whined.
"Aw, don't worry, Finn, it's all part of the show! Just as its about to hit the dirt, the pilot will pull up just in the nick of time! You'll see! Any time now..."
The plane kept going down.
"Any time now..."
The plane kept going down.
"...Any time now!"
The plane was certainly not going to pull up.
"...Uh oh."
The plane inevitably crashed, to the horror of everyone who saw. Marcus, inappropriately enough, was besides himself with excitement.
"Ooh! Explosions!" he said giddily, as the shockwaves gently washed over his ears. "Explosions means adventure! Come on, Finn! Let's be heroes!"
While people were running away from the scene, Marcus (and of course, Finn) happily ran towards it.
~[h+]~
With bullheaded determination, Marcus (and Finn, let's not forget him!) went through the dust and the crowd of people that had gathered around the crash site. The plane had apparently hit an old abandoned warehouse, inhabited by a handful of squatters. It was old, and on fire (even though it was mostly ferrous concrete) and crumbling into pieces. Marcus heard screaming, and knew that he had to hurry, because screaming people were people in need of help (usually, but then again some people liked to scream for no reason like that weird old lady down the street from where Marcus used to live).
He was quickly proven right, as he saw three people around a pile of rubble, trying to remove bits and pieces from it and failing. It took him a moment to realize that the people were a wife and her two children, and that there was someone under the rubble they really needed to get to.
"Dad! Dad!" screamed one of the children, a boy.
"Go!" groaned the father, who had stopped struggling under the rock. "Please, save yourselves!"
"Don't you dare!" screamed the mother. "Not after everything."
"I GOT THIIIIS!" bellowed Marcus so loudly the children screamed out of terror, thinking a monster had come to eat them. He then, quite easily, lifted the largest and heaviest parts of rubble off the man. The poor man's leg was broken, but his wife, who was quite strong herself, propped him up.
"Oh thank you, Mr. Hulk!" said the other child, a girl.
"Thank you so much..." said the father, as his wife carried him away on her shoulder.
"It's what heroes do! Isn't that right, Finn?"
No bark in reply came, and Marcus looked around for his little albino Welsh Corgi in vain. "Finn? FINN! WHERE ARE YOU?!"
"Arf! Arf!" barked Finn, over the roar of flames, the crumbling of concrete and the buckling of steel.
"FIIIIIIINN!" shouted Marcus, desperate and worried, as he chased the barks of his best friend ever. Most of the floor had collapsed down into the basement, and Marcus hadn't hesitated for a second to leap down there, even though his gravity harness was set to 1.80 Gs. The concrete shook when he hit the ground. "FINN! WHERE ARE YOU!"
"Arf! Arf! Arf!" came the reply, but before Marcus could follow the sound, two men rushed at him, one of them carrying a case. He stepped on a puddle of glowing blue liquid, and fell screaming, scattering the contents of the case on the ground.
"NO!" screamed the other man, who desperately scrambled to pick up the vials of drugs, not caring one bit about the fact that his friend was disintegrating into a cloud of floating blue embers. "NOT THE SHIT! NOT THE—" he screamed as he touched a puddle with his fingers, and suffered the same fate as his friend.
"...Okay, that's going to the vault later," Marcus told himself. "In the meantime, no touching the blue lava OH GOD FINN DON'T TOUCH THE BLUE LAVA!"
"Arf! Arf!" The barks came from near the crashed plane (which looked like a butterfly! Marcus always had trouble with his insects...). Marcus saw his dog trying to pull at something with his teeth, and just then a piece of the ceiling fell, and a shaft of moonlight (or was it sunlight?) shone at that something... Which was, as it turned out, a big spacesuit.
Finn pawed at the helmet just as Marcus was about to grab him. The cracked faceplate hissed, and opened, and for a moment of the roar of the flames and the crumbling of concrete and the buckling of metal became silent. Time slowed down as Marcus beheld what he, at the moment, believed to be the most beautiful woman in the entire world...
... Even though her face was covered in blood.
"...huuuuurrrrr Pretty!" he blurted out after an eternity, thought only two seconds had passed. He wasn't quite sure what he was here to do any more...
And then more blue lava came out of the plane, and the puddle slowly approached the girl (which was a bad thing, because as we know...)
"AW, CRAP! BLUE LAVA IS BAD!" Marcus shouted as he tried to untangle the girl in the space suit from a very spiky looking cable. Realizing that it would take too much time he grabbed the cord with both hands and snapped it apart. He picked up the girl like a groom picked up their brides (which kinda made him blush, but now was not the time to think about such things) just in time before the growing puddle touched her.
"Finn, I got her, now come on! We have to get out of here!"
~[h+]~
Marcus, with the girl in his arms like a groom with his bride (hee hee) leapt out of the second story building (as he had overshot it on account of his harness being off) and landed right outside, looking like an awesome action hero as he landed, then walked away like a badass (yes, a badass!) from a burning building.
It then occurred to him that there was no way his dog could leap from the basement to the second floor window, and that Finn was probably still in there, and that was not badass at all (in fact, it was pretty bad, but not in a good way) !
Then Finn leapt out of the first story window, and walked away from the burning building as it crumbled down completely, like a total badass (an ADORABLE badass)!
"Aw Finn! That was badass!" exclaimed Marcus, as his best friend ever walked up to him. "What's that you got there, boy?"
Finn let go of the stone tablet in his mouth, and said "Arf! Arf!"
Marcus knelt down to pick it up. "Ooh, treasure! Think its hers?"
"Arf!"
"Yeah, I think so too..." he said, as he pocketed it. "We'll give it back to her once she wakes up."
"Arf?"
"Finn, no! That would be stealing. Unless she's dead. Then it's looting! And that's... only slightly more okay. Or not. I'm not sure... Oh, the cops are here!"
Marcus and Finn's ears perked up at the distant sounds of the sirens, and perked up even more when the girl groaned something.
"Adam..." she murmured. Marcus wondered if that was her name, and realized that was stupid, and then wondered who this Adam was supposed to be.
"...Don't let them take me..." she murmured, and then Marcus thought she meant the cops.
Now Marcus, that probably means she's a crook, Marcus' brain said. And your daddy always told you that you shouldn't punch cops in the groin and point them towards crooks (which she probably is).
To which Marcus' heart, which was much bigger than his brain, countered with: She's pretty and I like her!
So of course, Marcus took her away from the crash site, and away from the cops.
~[h+]~
AUTHOR'S NOTES: I had planned on Adam and Vasir having a dogfight, but this chapter was beginning to drag on, and some of you are probably getting anxious to get back to the buddy cop adventures of Adam Jensen and Garrus Vakarian, Ace Detective. Adam rescuing her, well... we already did that, didn't we?
So, instead, let's have some more cosmic horror, and wash that away with the run on sentences that compose the thought process of yet another new character in this roster of crazy people.
An aerospike nozzle probably would not work on a fusion drive... or in the vacuum of space. I'm no engineer. But hey! It looks cool!
Oh, and three guesses as to what Tân Aderyn means ;)
~[h+]~
"Aw crap, where's my duffel bag!" yelled Marcus.
