Only the Faithful

by Tilthanial

They held the line when the hordes came. They held the line when the gods came. They held the line when the Worldbreaker came. Now they hold the line against a threat they have never imagined. And they will hold the line. For they are Cadians, and they are faithful.

6. Archangel

A/N: Took me longer than I wanted to get this chapter edited and readable. Autumn has been nuts, with multiple RPG campaigns, tournaments, etc... Was hoping I could get this done in time to finish TWiF by New Years 2018, but this took so long I doubt it will happen. Either way, cheers to this one!

Quick note for the 'DEW' fans. Warhammer science is founded on Warp Bullshit. Stop trying to apply real science to a fictional universe.

Reviewers-
deadtrooper- Thanks! Hope it continues to excite.
Abaddon953- He had reasons. All things considered, he's showing remarkable control. But don't worry, it wasn't senseless.
dekuton- Well, Warhammer science is 100% Grade A Warpdookey, so... On the batarian note, see above.
BrotherCaptainShepard- Exactly. See, that's what people tend to forget in crossovers. People don't change. Grimdark plus Mass Effect equals Grimdark plus Mass Effect, not Mass Effect with lasers. Besides, who honestly didn't want the option to both save the dude and take out some batarian scum?
Guest- Will do!
Guest 2- Really? There are real life examples of human beings getting shot by powerful enough lasers to kill them? I would LOVE to see those reports. On a serious note, burns do not cancel out exploding chunks of flesh. Burning still occurs, regardless. It's just on the leftover bits.
NIX1987- I tend to prefer the ME stories where there is still obvious tension between races. I mean, the turians and humans still have people alive that were trying to murder the ever loving shit out of each other during the First Contact War. The whole "let's be friends in a perfect universe" is incredibly naive.
Artyom-Dreizehn- Las weaponry is founded on Warhammer technology, which is founded on Warp bullshit not-even-pseudoscience. Also, if las weapons actually caused exploding body parts (which they don't in nearly every/any Black Library book), then lasguns would be one of the most retardedly powerful weapons in existence from the sheer debilitating aspect of it. If Warhammer was ground in real science, I would apply their weapons as real science. But they aren't. They are founded on rule of cool and abstract conceptualization of advanced weaponry.
Vostok2142- Heehee. Reapers are Palaven? EXTERMINATUS
Carre- All the fancy weapons to choose from, and I went with the humble lasgun. because CADIA STANDS DARN IT
ManwithaPlan113- I know, right? These are the same guys that watch a Chaos megafleet sitting in Cadia's orbit and mutter "Gonna be a long week" (Cadian Blood, awesome book)
Ghost- The Imperium is a bunch of a-holes, run by a-holes, protected by a-holes. Why do people expect Warhammer people in crossovers to be Lawful Good? I mean, Lawful EVIL at best...
shadow- Glad you liked it!
Hiei-Uchiha - That will happen eventually, though probably not to the death. Hopefully (crosses fingers)
Mr Exterminatus- Aftermath? lol
Guest 3- Woo!
FractiousDay- At that point, it is no longer the author's job to cater to a particular reader's whims. fanfic isn't written for the readers, it's written for the author. If this story has nothing for you, then that's not my job to change it. I enjoy my story, and anyone else that enjoys it is a bonus.
kukuhimanpr- I mean, you can't write a Mass Effect story without paying homage to Miranda.
edboy4926- Thanks!
Gustauve-Drakenhime - Well, you can't have 360 vision, and when two well-trained shooters are watching your back, it's generally safe to assume you ain't getting ganked in the back.
grey- Brunson is certainly a lesser grunt, but he's still Cadian. And yes, slavers. Pretty sure Imperials would have something to say about xenos enslaving humans.
Volantis- You're assuming that the batarians posed no immediate threat. Xenos, with weapons, that were threatening to kill humans... That's three solid reasons alone for a Guardsmen to kill them.
Disciple of Ember- Went to write Tali and accidentally said Tau-bae best. Had to go drink a gallon of bleach to get that filthy heresy out of my mouth. Bleh. Crisis suits... I never liked the 'good boy' Shepard. Always mained Paragon, but what Special Forces soldier is all sunshine and rainbows? I mean, he faced a Reaper. That kind of thing requires a near-psychopathic attitude, if not some hardcore mental barriers, that must have come from somewhere.
Jouaint- The Imperium of Man is not so easily turned from the Truth of the God-Emperor. Heresy will not be tolerated.
Nox- Spite is certainly a thing. I mean, he clearly would despise the weaknesses that any true-born Imperial would see in them. But I write from limited narrative, so you have to remember that you only saw what happened after the bodies hit the floor.
RoyalTwinFangs- Thanks!
boret98- Angst is a key component of Grimdark. Also, you have to think through the other conversations they had. Kane is probably fairly confident that he can handle himself.
magnusvictor- Lol. I had completely missed that until you posted that. I lack the energy to go back and change it, so let your imagination run wild.
SomeGuyOverHere- I don't really have Shepard placed, other than no biotics. Soldier would be the most likely fit. He's got some tech aptitude, but not enough to place him in anything fancy. As for the conflict, someone definitely will have to bend.
Tom2011- Kane is certainly focused and driven. He has a singular purpose and he knows what that is.
Redentor- As much as I love some other crossovers, the Warhammer people tend to be way too cheerful and nice for true Warhammer.
tmroc725- Brunson and Kelly would be adorable. Anything with Kelly would be adorable. Kelly is adorable. Miranda and Kane are much more believable though.
OBSERVER01- Shepard is definitely a gooder person than Kane, but from a ME perspective I wouldn't say he's naive. He just has a moral code. Guardsmen don't have that luxury.
A Random Friend- Granted.
SlaggedFire- See, I think and I have incredibly different definitions of research. A bunch of armed warriors literally appear out of a scientific anomaly, and your medical professional has confirmed that their bodies are infested with all sorts of viruses and things that pose a threat, and you WOULDN'T want that shit locked up and inspected? He'd be retarded (usage intentional) to NOT want to get them the hell off his ship and in quarantine. That is something that people also fail to understand with crossovers. DIFFERENT UNIVERSE MEANS DIFFERENT EVERYTHING. Different food, different evolution, different viruses, different ideologies. Also, you seem to be confusing real medical science with Grimdark Warhammer Inquisition Shit. Have you ever read/watched/heard any story, game, movie, etcetera where the government's first reaction to aliens is NOT to throw them in a lab and study them? That's not being evil. That is literally the most intelligent thing to do.
Patsmckraken- Because in Warhammer you NEVER shoot people in the back... Yep, warfare is all about honor and nobility and playing by the rules... On the hellgun issue, it took me 30 seconds on Google to find 2 sources that confirm hotshot lasguns don't always require backpack sources (Lexicanum and FFG rules, both using officially sanctioned GW primary sources). And yes, I said hotshot, because GW is garbage with their IP and canon, and they literally copy-pasted hotshot over hellgun a couple editions back, and the two are used interchangeably. While you could argue that Kasrkin specifically have the Lucius-pattern hellgun that does require a backpack, you can also argue that a backpack-mounted weapon is impractical, inefficient, and unnecessarily exhausting on the user. And ambiguous wording allows for the possibility of power packs. This I am taking liberties on (sort of), within the preexisting confines of GW lore, for ease of writing. And because the backpack thing it stupid. It's really stupid.
PLZDELETEME- yup.
microzombie- I mean, there's got to be a disposable Guardsmen in every Warhammer story, right?
MRMYSELF- You called?

---

Kane stomped forwards ahead of the rest, his weapon clutched tightly in his hands, anger radiating from his every step. The crowd parted frantically around him like schools of fish evading prowling sharks. Gang members faded from the streets, recognizing the potential threat and moving to avoid becoming the target of the hulking armored figure's wrath. The rare innocents of Omega gaped in amazement. It was a fine spectacle, to the unwary bystander. A terrible shadow that sent krogan stepping backwards and checking their weapons. That scattered the vorcha crowds into the alleys. That radiated murderous hatred without having to show any expression.

Shepard followed with Miranda in tow, fighting the urge to hurry his pace to match the Kasrkin's. They had not exchanged more than five words since fixing the air recyclers. He did not know what the man was thinking; other than seething with the presence of the aliens around him. Once they had returned and confirmed Professor Solus' arrival, Sergeant Kane had become entirely silent. It was a rare being that could express emotion while encased from crown to toe in armor, but the Cadian was doing a masterful job of it. It occurred to Shepard that the man might have been pushing off the imminent arrival of the salarian, keeping his calm because it had not happened yet. If this was a taste of what was to come, then there was little doubt that the man could be trusted in the long term. God only knew how he would respond when they went to find Okeer.

Beside him, Miranda maintained a steely, if sour, grimace that could have meant anything from her tea was too cold or the Earth had been destroyed. The Cerberus operative had held her counsel, perhaps choosing to see how Shepard played this out. Despite her chafing and honest admission that she was reserving judgment on his decisions, he could tell her mind was processing a hundred different options, and comparing them to what he had said, and what he would do. She was like a machine. The fact that no 'I told you so' had emerged, in one way or another, meant nothing. As a professional, those sorts of things did not need to be spoken. It was obvious enough to them both. Shepard had given the man a chance, and he had not passed.

Death was a close acquaintance. His time in the Alliance marines had seen plenty of combat. He had seen many forms of death. And he had seen many, many dead batarians. It was not their deaths that made him angry. It was the way it had been done. Shot in the back. That was a coward's way. There was a difference between an ambush and an execution. Assassination and murder. Shepard had committed the first before. He could claim with clean conscience he had never done the second. Kill, yes. Torture… yes. But he did not shoot people without reason. There had been no reason for what Sergeant Kane had done.

I am not like you, Shepard. Stop trying to pretend otherwise.

His own anger was cooling, easing like congestion draining down his throat. Each step seemed to snatch away a sliver of the overwhelming rage he had been struck by in the face of the man's action. It would not go away, he had every reason to be angry with the man, but the more he considered the incident, the more he asked himself what had triggered such a violent reaction. He wasn't like that. He did not explode. Perhaps he was not fully back. Perhaps the shock of being brought back to life was affecting him, and he just didn't realize it. That concerned him more than anything. If he could not trust himself, then how could the others? This mission was too important for him to have doubts.

His earpiece chirped, announcing an incoming call from Jacob Taylor. Glad for the distraction from his troubled thoughts, Shepard picked it up and glanced over to confirm that Miranda also had responded. A private communication could not have meant anything but trouble.

"Shepard, we have a problem."

Goddamn it.

"Go for Shepard."

"We've got someone knocking on the Normandy's hatch. Says his name is Zaeed Massani. Claims Cerberus offered him a contract to assist us, but I've heard nothing."

Miranda's expression hinted downwards, deepening her scowl. "I received several messages as we were departing the Normandy. Unfortunately I was unable to read them before we stepped off. Tell EDI to run a name recognition search through my messages, code Zeta-Bravo-Three-Kilo-Seven-Nine-Zeta-Alpha-Eight."

Their companion had slowed his pace, loping forward with his towering gait, but remaining in easy earshot. His head turned back, studying them both through his opaque visor, before deciding that he was not needed and resumed walking, albeit at a calmer pace. Remaining close enough to respond if needed, and to maintain coherency. Whether he did that for support or to make sure he was not left behind on some sudden turn, Shepard did not know.

"You're just giving away your password" Shepard whispered, muting his side of the exchange.

"The code is based off a security algorithm I created" she explained, eyes fixed on the Cadian's back. "The instant it is used, it is discarded and another will be created. EDI is aware of what would happen should she try and use the password a second time."

"Oh."

"EDI found a message. Our boss posted the contract when we arrived in system. It is legitimate."

"Wonderful" Miranda breathed. "And now we have a mercenary joining us."

"He didn't contact you about this?"

"If he did, then he did not consider it important enough for a direct call" she replied, irritation seeping into her voice. Directing her attention to the channel, she ordered Jacob to have EDI verify the man's identity. "We will be there in a few minutes. He can have a job interview on-site, but I do not want him stepping on our ship without my or Shepard's approval."

"Understood, Miranda."

"Problem?" Kane had stopped, and waited patiently for them to catch up. There was no telling what he was thinking behind his visor.

"Potentially." It was not worth explaining the details. He did not have the time or the patience. Nor did Shepard expect the man to have anything valuable to add to the discussion. Understanding the implication, the Kasrkin remained silent and fell into step beside him. Without the Kasrkin leading the way, they had to force their way forwards through the press of bodies. Enduring it stoically, Shepard processed the next step. They would have to go see Aria again. If anyone could point them in Archangel's direction, it would be her. Or one of her lackeys.

But first they had to deal with this new agent. Whoever this was. Whatever he was. Zaaed Massani. The name sounded human. If the Illusive Man had chosen a mercenary for this team, there must have been reason. The lack of trust Shepard harbored for Cerberus' string-puller did not encourage his instinctive reaction to this unwanted appearance. Mercenaries were inherently unreliable.

When they rounded the corner that led to their ship's umbilical dock, this mercenary stood waiting for them. Leaning casually against the asteroid wall, slouching as if the galaxy moved at his leisure. Only the assault rifle clipped to his side and the nasty scar splitting his face gave any indication of someone worth looking twice at. Shepard bit back his initial disdain and steadied himself for this unwanted conversation.

"You Shepard?" The mercenary pushed off the wall and greeted them with a professional once-over. He seemed to be the only one they had met who took in Kane's otherworldly appearance without needing a second take.

"Zaeed Massani?"

"Cerberus is willing to pay me a pretty penny to assist you on this…" he conveyed the impression of air quotes without moving his hands, "secret assignment of yours. I wouldn't fancy you'd be willing to tell me what it is before I sign on?"

"No." Shepard gave the man a second, more serious inspection. His armor had been heavily personalized; there were clear patches and hand-tooling throughout that spoke of the long history it bore. The man had grey hair, too. Even in this age, grey hair was a rare sight in combat operatives. This man had the scars to prove he had experience. And his rifle was an old model. An M8 Avenger, adorned with battle scars and well-polished scuff marks.

"Suit yourself. The money's good. And it isn't every day a shadow intelligence organization knocks on your door. I'm curious, Shepard. There aren't many things left that make me curious. That'd and you're supposed to be dead."

"We still have to finish reviewing your file" Shepard told the man. "As you know, this contract was extended relatively...last minute, and we have been occupied."

"What baggage are you bringing" Miranda cut in, after waiting for an appropriate pause.

"Just me and Jesse, plus the usual. Couple changes of clothes, ammunition, explosives."

"It will be inventoried on boarding. Any explosives may be confiscated and stored in the ship's armory, as well as any devices or weapons that are deemed unsafe for the crew or ship. Do you have any questions?"

"When do we get started?" The mercenary flashed a grim smile.

"Soon. We have one last errand here before we set off." Shepard gestured for Kane and Miranda to go on to the airlock. They did, the Cadian giving one last look behind them as he stomped off. "You been on Omega long?"

"Long enough to know my way around."

"Then you know who Archangel is?"

The mercenary huffed, amused by the question. "Look, Shepard, if you are here to kill Archangel, you'll have to jump in line. He's pissed off every company on this rock, and they've got him pinned in the Core District. You'd have a harder time getting to him than finishing him off."

"He what?"

Miranda jerked back to look, drawn by Shepard's outburst. Her lips pursed in a frown, gaze shifting far away as an Omega news bulletin chirped in their ears, courtesy of EDI.

FREELANCE WORK AVAILABLE. HIRED GUNS TO OUST THE ARCHANGEL. SEE THE BLUE SUNS RECRUITERS AT AFTERLIFE BAR.

Shepard silenced the mercenary with an upraised hand and cycled his radio to the Normandy's primary channel.

"Jacob, weapon up. We're moving, pronto."

"Understood, Shepard. Am I grabbing Brunson?"

He hesitated, staring at the motionless Kasrkin poised halfway through the airlock. The armored Cadian seemed to understand the gist of what they were discussing, even though he was not linked in to their radio chatter. His rifle lifted subtly, as it to hand over the rifle. The gesture was not lost on Shepard. Even with everything they had just said, and done, the man was offering himself for their mission. Ordinarily, he would advocate not looking a gift horse in the mouth. But here, he already knew what would be accompanying that rifle.

If Archangel was in trouble, they would need guns. Kane had aptly demonstrated he was a spectacular shooter. And it would be a target rich environment. The files on Archangel noted a distinct lack of civilian casualties. Archangel operated in low-risk environments. Pending low civilian risk, his loose trigger finger would not complicate the mission.

Unless Archangel was an alien. Which, odds, were, he was. Male, because the operations were clinical and precise, detached and methodical like a machine's computations. Lacking in biotics, so not asari-led. Any asari leader would have at least a few sisters with her. Salarian teams operated with more stealth, less shooting. Turian, then. Integrating multiple fire points and mobile teams the same way the Turians military did. It went without saying that a turian lead would have experience in the Hierarchy. Not all turians did. Outlying colonies and non-birthed turians were not required to serve. But this one had.

Made him wish Garrus was here. Garrus would know how Archangel worked, how he processed.

"Shepard?"

"Yes. Tell him to combat load, or whatever their equivalent is." He nodded towards Kane. "You need a reload?"

"Combat?"

"Yes."

The Kasrkin patted his ammunition pouches. "Kit is good. Close quarters expected?"

"Yes."

"Tell the corporal to bring the sword."

The mercenary had remained quiet, but his puzzlement showed clearly on his face. As did the predatory suspicion that zeroed in on the Cadian's unfamiliar tongue. But he held his silence, which Shepard attributed to intelligence.

"We'll be stepping out in four. Do you want anyone else?"

"Any more and we'll be too large to operate. Zaeed, are you ready for an on-the-spot interview?"

"That's my favorite kind" was the reply, as the mercenary casually lifted his M8 Avenger and turned it to show the green-lit charge. "I'm always ready."

"Miranda, status check?"

"I need two heat sinks. Biotics are fine." She sniffed dismissively. "Could do for a nutrition bar. Jacob, strawberry, if you are able."

With his team preparing, Commander Shepard sighed quietly and rubbed his temples, easing the headache that was threatening to return.

-v-

He had hoped they would not step into that Throne-forsaken hellhole again. The Commander's threat back in the slums had rung hollow. In his brief time with this young humanity, he had decided they did not have the conviction to make drastic decisions. Their system of government lacked the totalitarian authority to push necessary measures. Military jurisdiction remained locked under the sway of politics. Commander Shepard's definition of research probably meant less than anything he should worry about. This galaxy had a code of laws for the allowable use of weapons, scientific actions, and all sorts of things. They wanted a galaxy that lived and operated in peace and civility. They were so painfully unaware of the truths of what was out there.

That being said, he still wondered what it might be like. These people did not have the Adeptus Mechanicus. How in heaven's could they pursue any true forms of science or technology?

In the meantime, here they were. The ship had been incredibly close, just a dozen feet away. And here they were, rearmed and marching back into the teeth of this xenos-rock with combat behind them, and combat ahead. This new one, Zaeed Massani, was a complete unknown. Yet the Commander had chosen to allow him along, bringing him directly into a combat situation without any form of vetting or testing. That was foolish. Had he been a member of their military, or a sanction operative, it would have made sense. Not with a mercenary. The man owed no allegiance to their mission.

Their mission.

It wasn't his mission. Kane owed nothing to these people either. Their mission was foreign to him. Their enemy was foreign. So were they.

The atmosphere in the establishment had shifted in the short time that had passed. One of the side rooms, ostensibly a VIP entertainment room, had been overtaken by armed and armored mercenaries sports the colors of the Blue Suns. His lip curled towards a sneer at the sight of their polished armor and gleaming weapons. No signs of actual wear or tear on their armor. Untested, and not ready for combat, judging by the slack posturing and the wandering gazes that drifted across the dancing blueskins on the platforms. Despicable.

"Looks like you just got an invitation" the mercenary muttered to Kane, a wicked grin spreading across his scarred face. "Those dancers are drinking you up like Serrice Ice Brandy."

More than a few sets of xenos eyes were lingering, a fact that Kane was all too aware of and none too pleased with. Another reason why he loathed this accursed place. The xenos were shameless, without propriety or dignity. They acted as if they belonged, as if they were mankind's equals. Their brazenness enraged him. If one of them stepped down from their platforms and approached him, he would be sorely tested to not drop it on its ass.

A line had formed leading into the room, a thin stream of shuffling bodies disappearing through the first door to reappear strutting out the other. A temporary sign stood against the door, announcing this was the place to sign on for contracting work.

The Blood Pack, Blue Suns, and Eclipse. Three supposedly powerful agents on this asteroid. And they were hiring anyone and everyone to hunt down a single man. The Commander's report claimed that this Archangel had a team. But it could only be so large. This recruiting drive seemed more than excessive. It struck him as weak and impotent to require more bodies.

The Commander stopped a short distance from the line and surveyed the layout, drinking in the mercenaries and the people in line. It was going to be a hell of a fight. The man's apprehension could be read, but only because Kane had seen that so many times. It was not fear that Commander was facing. It was a hundred computations, dozens of projected outcomes and possibilities. That was good.

"Easiest way to Archangel right now is through that door" the mercenary noted, grunting with displeasure at the line. "Look at those goddamn idiots. The Blue Suns are driving the recruitment, which means this line is going straight into the action, being used as cannon fodder."

"What are you thinking, Shepard?" Jacob's hand lingered on the butt of his folded-up shotgun. The dark-skinned Cerberus agent had been antsy since stepping off the boat. His source of irritation seemed to come from the battle-scarred mercenary. There was history there, not personal history, but something in the armorer's past had him way regarding Zaeed, or his ilk.

"Inverted Trojan Horse" the Commander stated, letting out a slow breath. "Sign on with the Blue Suns, find a way to rush in and make contact with Archangel, then shoot our way out."

"That's not a very good plan."

"We don't have very many options."

"Luckily, neither do they." Miranda discretely tapped her omnitool, and the crewmembers checked their screens. "I hacked their network. The location is deep in the machine district. Limited aerial mobility, and no room for anything heavier than a large mech. If we do not get trapped in a corner, we have the capability to force our way out."

"We do have a significant amount of firepower on our side" Jacob agreed. He shrugged his shoulders, shifting the weight of the bulky grenade launcher slung across his back. That weapon alone set them apart from the line of hopefuls looking for work. More than a few had eyed their team with undisguised awe and fear. Compared to the light armor and subpar weapons of these Omega dwellers, the Commander's team may as well have been Astartes.

"We don't have time to sit back and work out a full plan, so we'll be winging this a bit. Keep your weapons ready and your heads locked tight."

Starting forward with renewed motivation, Commander Shepard strode up to the doors, completely forgoing the line. None of the locals complained, their mouths clamping firmly shut at the train of arms and armor that passed by. The Blue Suns guard outside the door gave a double-take when they drew close, his batarian eyes flicking across them all in a frantic heartbeat, no doubt panicking at the assumption he was about to get gutted where he stood.

"We're here to sign on" Shepard told the man, making it sound like an order. "Letting us through?"

"Uh, sure. Yeah. This way." The mercenary stumbled over his words. He moved hurriedly out of the way, gesturing limply with his hand to the door. The Commander gave him a cold smile and stepped in, waving the others in behind.

Inside, the lush velvet seats had been covered with a cheap translucent tarp, no doubt a stipulation by Aria that the mercenaries did not trash her den of sin and vice. A pair of Blue Suns stood on the inside of the door, starting in surprise when the newest entrees were armed and armored like professionals. A third sat at a desk in the center of the room, with a conspicuously clean desk lacking paperwork, or money. The desk-guard cocked his head to examine them as Shepard walked right up to the table.

"Well, you're a sight. If you're looking for work, you're in the right place. You an outfit?"

"We're a group interested in the work."

The batarian grimaced. "A 'group' like you seems a bit high-grade for a mop-up work."

"We've got time to kill" the Commander stated, his face carefully neutral.

"Pay is 500 credits, payable after Archangel is dead. Non-negotiable, and money is not forwarded to family, friends or coworkers. Any questions?"

"Seems straightforward."

"Sign here then." The batarian tapped the sheet on the desk. "Tell your cheerleader to take a hike. Archangel's dug in like a Khar'shan bloodtick, and it'd be a shame to lose a pretty face like that."

Miranda bristled noticeably at the remark, her eyes narrowing with a flint-like gleam.

"She'll handle herself."

Shepard motioned for them all to sign. Miranda made a point of staring down the creature as she signed. Once they were done, the Commander gestured for them to turn and step out and clear the room. The xenos barked short directions as they left on where to go.

A youth stood on the other side, nearly leaping out of his skin in shock when Kane nearly bowled him over. Scurrying hastily to the side, the youth muttered what must have been a curse and stared.

"Hey, uh, is this where I sign up?"

Even though he could not answer, Kane took a moment to inspect the boy. Young, barely an adult, with no armor to speak of and a pistol. Eyes dilated with adrenaline, possibly under the influence of drugs. A child playing at war. He lacked spine and honesty of intent. This was not Imperial citizen stepping forward to fight to defend his home. This was a fool looking for something new.

The Commander must have had the same conclusion. "You look a little young to be freelancing as a merc."

"I'm old enough! I grew up on Omega" the boy insisted, "and I know how to use a gun."

"So does Archangel" Jacob warned. The boy flinched, his false courage wavering in the face of stronger men.

"Well… I can handle myself." He waved his pistol for courage. "And I just spent fifty credits on this piece, and I want to use it."

Shepard moved like lightning; storming forwards, he punched the kid back a step and ripped the pistol from his grasp. Two quick jerks of his hand dislodged the heat sink and flipped the sidearm over. He rapped the boy in the chin with the butt of his pistol before shoving the now-empty pistol into the boy's grip.

"Get your money back. You'll thank me later."

Following the Commander's lead, Kane whispered quietly a strengthening litany.

"He who dwells in the shelter of the Emperor…"

This place was a curse. He could not wait to have it in the past.

His gait landed him alongside Officer Lawson. The Cerberus agent had a hard scowl on her face, and her thoughts seemed to be drawn to a distant horizon. Undoubtedly, her thoughts concerned the coming battle. That was well and proper; it would be a hard fight, and they all would need to be on their best. Still, there was a nagging doubt that prickled in Kane's mind. Something that made him wonder exactly what sort of organization he was standing with.

"I have a question" he grunted, speaking to her without turning his head.

"Don't you always" came her spiteful reply.

"That word he used. What does it mean?"

"Cheerleader?"

"Yes."

"Cheerleaders participate alongside teams in organized sports. Standing on the sidelines with signs and pom poms and chants."

"...why?" He did not understand. The Guard did not see much sporting, except for the kind that soldiers did in the rough when the officers were not around. He tried to imagine what sort of sporting had the space, much less the composure, to… do that.

"Well, when you have two teams in an intense game, the cheering can energize the crowd, and then the team. It is both for the morale of the teams and the morale of the fans."

"Teams?"

She took a measured, slow breath. The kind he had heard many times in his youngest days in the Schola.

"Does your time have competitive sporting?"

"I am sure that some worlds might." He did not betray his disbelief of the possibility. There were those few select worlds that had not experienced the touch of war in even forgotten memory. Perhaps those worlds wasted time and energy on such frivolities. No such thing existed on Cadia. "The only sporting I have seen involve fists and cards."

"Boxing, then? Ringside girls?"

"Brawling in the mud hardly requires a female presence."

"I guess one can take the oddest things for granted." She inclined her head. "We shall have to remedy that."

"If you say so. I cannot say I understand the need for such things. Surely there are more productive ways to spend one's life?"

"You really do only know war?"

"Yes."

The Cerberus agent shook her head. "I am sorry."

"What for?"

Confusion flickered across her face for the briefest moment before she smothered the emotion. "You would be amazed how much life can be enjoyed when peace is at hand."

"I am sure that uncounted citizens of the Imperium have that benefit because of the sacrifices we make fighting the Imperium's foes. It is an honor to fight for mankind." Kane cleared his throat. Some of the lingering mist from the Afterlife had made its way past his respirator. The cloying scent teased his nostrils, and he would have gratefully accepted an opportunity to remove his helmet and expel the odor from his throat. Not in a place like this, however. Too many potential threats surrounded them.

"That is a noble sentiment. You almost sound like you believe it."

"Why would I not?" Even though his face remained hidden, his biting tone erased the smirk that had started to form on her lips. The thoughtful expression vanished, and she nodded towards the upcoming aircar. A pair of mercenaries stood beside it. One wore the Blue Suns armor, the other Blood Pack. It amused Kane to see them side by side, when just a little while ago he had waded through firefights between the two factions. These people were like children: short memories.

"You forgot something," he grunted.

"Did I?"

"After this, the Commander is turning me over to the Alliance. I doubt I'll have much free time with all of your adepts poking and prodding and dissecting out bodies."

"We… do not do that."

"Then how do you possibly learn anything?"

-v-

"This is goddamn suicide" Zaeed muttered, examining the dead freelancer as one of his buddies pulled the corpse out of the street. "He just made that shot through that" he pointed, not that anyone needed a reminder "gap in the barricade. This Archangel is the real deal."

They stood at the edge of the bridger, slightly apart from the other freelancers, owning their little patch of concrete by virtue of being too aware of themselves for the much more nervous hires to approach. The gap was good. He did not need to have any of those people trying to buddy up. Not since they were about to stop them all. This would be less hard than he had expected. Most of them had the look of scum and villainy. Granted, that was most of the population of Omega. He doubted he would lose sleep over any of these.

"The hard part is getting there" Shepard reminded them all. "That's a well-defended apartment block. We dig in, we hold out, we bust out."

He made it sound easy. To a man like Commander Shepard, it probably did. Jacob appreciated the confidence. After surveying the assembled forces of the mercenary trifecta, it would take more than skill and trigger-ability to get through this. The Eclipse had brought mechs. The Blue Suns had a gunship. The Blood Pack had… Blood Pack. It was going to be a hell of a fight.

There were twenty freelancers in this mob, including them. This was the third assault on Archangel, according to the mercenaries. The bodies hastily dragged to the sides of the street told how well the others had gone. How long had Archangel been holed up? Almost six hours now? He must have been taking stimulants to stay up. This siege could not last much longer. The mercenaries seemed to know it. The general strategy that Shepard and Zaeed had reported after walking out of the ad-hoc planning room indicated they had shifted to start locking down escape routes.

The might pose a problem for them, but Jacob had faith that Shepard would find a way.

"Something on your mind" he asked the hulking armored form of Sergeant Kane. The Kasrkin had been even more quiet and surly than on the ship. Something had gone down when the three of them had disappeared. None of them had said a word, but the reek of tension and bad blood stirred the air between them. The other Cadian had noticed it too, but had chosen to not bring it up. Corporal Brunson might not have had any more information, but he seemed to have a reason to keep his mouth shut. That was enough for Jacob.

"That big xenos, the krogan. Garm." The man spoke so flatly that any emotions were impossible to detect. "He'll be tough."

"Are you worried?"

"Prioritizing targets. Your krogan require full charge, but I would recommend a heavy weapon to bring him down. You don't have plasma or bolt technology at hand, so that grenade launcher of yours will be essential. Make sure you save some ammunition for when he comes in."

"What makes you think he'll come in?"

"He will." The Cadian spoke with such gruff confidence that Jacob found himself agreeing. He could not really doubt it himself. No good krogan would sit back while a real fight raged on. And this would be a real fight once they dropped the facade. "Do we have anything to worry with this Zaeed and his comrade Tarak?"

"I have no idea what that thing is saying" the mercenary announced, still looking away. "But I recognize my own name. And Tarak's. If you are worried about my history with him, don't be. He steps up, he's dead meat."

"And that is precisely why I don't trust him" the Cadian growled. "A man whose loyalty means so little has no place in a position of trust."

"You aren't the only one who thinks so."

They all watched a Blue Suns trooper go scurrying across the street. The attack was about to kick off. They could all smell it. The only thing that could interfere now would be if someone stumbled onto Cathka's body in the crates behind the gunship. That had not been the wisest choice. But Shepard had insisted afterwards that it had been a justified risk. As long as it did not bite them in the bum, everything would be fine.

"Stick close, clear your corners, don't lose contact with the team. Eyes out for traps and ambushes, team. I don't want any friendly fire."

That last statement was tossed towards Sergeant Kane. The Cadian gave no visible reply.

"Target is on the second floor," their Blue Suns handler announced. He tapped his helmet twice then pointed towards the barricade. "Freelancers, move out. We'll provide covering fire. Go! Go! Go!"

"Here we go" Jacob breathed.

A spray of suppressing fire erupted from numerous mercenary positioned, peppering the target building's facing with a hail of shot. Taking that as their cue, Shepard led the charge to the nearest ladder and hurled himself up. They followed in line behind him, keeping themselves separate from the other freelancers climbing the center and rightmost ladders. Better for cohesion, and to make sure that they were not flanked.

Jacob was just taking the first rung of the ladder when a freelancer on the middle ladder leapt backwards, tumbling limply to the street. No one hesitated; they understood that to stand still was to die. Muttering a prayer under his breath, Jacob reached the top of the barrier and leapt over.

One by one they landed, pushing forward immediately, advancing from cover to cover as the hint of blue armor in the target building appeared with impressive speed. Always moving, never shooting from the same spot. Archangel was ignoring the covering fire, instead focusing on the more immediate threat of the bodies on the bridge. Three freelancers dropped by the time Jacob had his shotgun out. Waiting for his commander's signal, Jacob bull-rushed forwards, keeping an eye on the nearby freelancers, and waiting for the shot that he would not see coming.

"Last man" the younger Cadian called out as his boots hit the pavement.

"Weapons free" Shepard said over the squad channel, his voice even but tight with rushing adrenaline. "Break for the apartment, take down any in your path. Weapons free!"

Jacob huffed a short breath, leveled his shotgun on the unsuspecting back of a freelancer, and pulled the trigger. The man's body lurched away as if struck by a krogan's backhand, skidding to the side without a sound. The accompanying roar of the team's weapons sent bodies dropping left and right.

Then the Cadians opened fire with their lasguns.

He had been there when they had showed the weapon's capabilities in the ship. A single shot was loud, sharp, and terrifying. Fired in short, controlled bursts, it was a thing of nightmares. A near solid stream of light burst from the lasguns' barrels, slicing through freelancer after freelancer like surgical tools. There wasn't even impact effect. Men just collapsed. The survivors scattered for cover, but with their team spread across the bridge, there was none. A lone survivor from the rear of the assault force charged desperately at Sergeant Kane, firing his submachine gun relentlessly. He was a scarred veteran, probably former Alliance, with good fire discipline. The Cadian's portable shield flared and collapsed under the barrage.

Not even bothering to shoot the man, the Kasrkin let go of his lasgun with one hand and punched the man in the face. The hit dropped him as surely as a gutshot. Lifting the man by the strap of his chestpiece, the Kasrkin growled an epithet that did not translate and hurled the man off the bridge.

Then they ran. Dodging the incoming fire of the mercenaries, who had taken a moment to realize what was going on, Jacob sprinted past the dead freelancers and into the building. A few of the frontrunners had escaped inside. At least two disappeared in an explosion as they tripped a mine. Choosing to follow on their trail, trusting that there would not be a second mine immediately after the first, Jacob leapt over an overturned table. A startled freelancer screamed in fright as Jacob landed beside him. The man's pistol barked wildly, missing. Jacob smacked him with the butt of his shotgun before retreating a step and emptying a shell into the man's chest.

"Clear!" Shepard swept around a corner, his shields flickered as they started to recharge. "Sound off!"

They all offered acknowledgement. Taking a one-second breather, Jacob rolled the freelancer's body out from behind the cover and checked his heatsink. Good to go.

"They're regrouping" Sergeant Kane announced, stacked against the corner, his helmet barely peeking out around the corner. "The confusion will only last for a short time before they launch another assault."

"I know Tarak. He needs to have a plan. Rushing is not his style." Zaeed nodded above his head, to the inner balcony leading to where Archangel had been seen. "We've got at least ten minutes. It would be twenty if the Blood Pack weren't here."

"Good enough." Shepard pointed to each member of the team. "Jacob, Zaeed, Brunson, stay on the ground floor. Prepare it as best you can. We'll be back with Archangel."

-v-

"He hadn't planned this."

Shepard shot the Kasrkin a sidelong glance as they climbed the stairs. Despite the lack of incoming fire, the man had not eased his aggression in the slightest. Perhaps it was for the best; Kane was a formidable soldier and his best was miles ahead of most people Shepard had ever met. If that slipped, something could go horribly wrong. He just prayed that Kane would keep his trigger silent for the next minute. This was a terrible gamble, bringing him up. But Shepard needed Kane to see who they were dealing with, to prevent any mistakes later in the heat of the moment.

Choosing to not reply, Shepard kept his head on a swivel, inspecting for mines or traps. The stairway was cleared, in agreement with what the Kasrkin had surmised.

"This certainly isn't the place for a last stand. With some preparation, it can do."

"No. Too many windows. The walls are not reinforced. A company could devastate this place without trouble."

"Good thing the mercenaries out there don't have a company."

That might have earned a chuckle from some Alliance soldiers he had known. The Cadian merely huffed and rounded the corner at the top of the stairs, his hellgun raised. The narrow corridor ended with a closed and locked door. No visible security beyond standard housing locks. "This is not his base of operations. It is a safe house."

"You know what a safe house is?" Shepard spared the man an amused glance. "I thought you only knew soldiery."

"My unit has performed seven high-risk extractions of priority personnel from active warzones. I also know what cheerleaders are, believe it or not."

"Miranda told you?" It was a silly question, but Shepard decided to push his luck. Having Kane talking again eased some of his misgivings and worries. At least this way he had a read on what went through the man's head.

"..." the larger man stepped up to the door.

The locked cycled open at his approach, winking to a friendly green. Trusting that he was not about to walk into a sniper round, Shepard tapped the key and the door slid open.

The interior had been a living room, quite cozy with numerous couches and a small coffee table. The walls and anything that might have hung from them were pockmarked with hundreds of slim holes from the peppering fire of the mercenaries. Further to the right were rows of bunks, complete with small lockers for personal effects. Where Archangel's team would have rested. The only nod to security were some emergency blast panels that could drop over the windows. The remains of three lay in pieces across the floor.

More importantly, Archangel stood at one of the windows, kneeling half a body's length back to reduce his profile, weapon braced on his arm as he inspected something outside. Turian, as he had suspected. Blue armor, closed-helmet, but with a privatized sniper rifle that he could not possibly have taken from military service in the Hierarchy. It struck him as familiar, that sniper rifle. A heavily modified Incisor pattern. He had not seen too many of those before. That brief thought made him hesitate just inside the door.

Archangel fired, a single shot that echoed mournfully in the too-quiet air. Remaining still for a moment, the turian rolled his neck and shrugged his shoulders, no doubt easing out tired muscles. His movements were stiff and choreographed, a byproduct of the stimulants whose casing lay scattered about the floor. It was a wonder that Archangel was still standing.

A dozen questions lingered on his tongue, but they all fled in a momentary surge of emotion when Archangel reached up and removed his helmet. Tossing it onto a chair, the turian faced them and slumped down against the wall.

"Shepard. Took you long enough."

"Garrus?" He took a half-dozen steps forward before catching himself. Ducking out of any window's view, he scurried forward and skidded to his knees to meet the turian face-to-face. "What are you doing here? It's good to see you!"

"Good to see you too." Garrus wheezed softly and closed his eyes, just for a moment. A faint shimmer of bliss crossed his hardened features as he enjoyed a brief rest. "Thought this was it, until that ugly face crossed my scope. Aren't you supposed to be dead?"

"Long story. Are you okay?" He immediately started scouring the turian for damage, wounds, anything. A couple minor injuries, one well-bandaged gunshot wound in his leg. Nothing serious. "Damn, you're a lucky son of a bitch."

"Wish I could say the same for my team." Garrus' eyes flicked back open and he regarded Shepard with a subdued grimace that the Specter had not seen for some time. It was like a breath of fresh air in the stale Omega atmosphere. "I've been better, but it's sure good to have a friendly face. Killing mercs is hard work."

"Yeah, and you said I was crazy going after Saren. You took on all of Omega by yourself? Archangel?"

"That's just a name the local's gave me. I'll let you keep calling me Garrus." He eased himself up, remaining propped against the wall, and eyed the others who had come in behind Shepard. His gaze hardened at the sight of Miranda's uniform. "Wearing new colors these days?"

"As I said, long story. We need to get moving. The mercenaries won't hold back forever."

"No, they won't. This is personal for most of them. The leaders, at least. They aren't going to stop until they're dead."

"I got the gist of it from their side." Shepard moved to the other side of the window and peered out. The others had taken up similar positions, with the Kasrkin studying the far side the same way a krogan studied a steak. "Do you have an exit plan?"

"Our shuttle was… disabled. And they have enough fliers in the air to intercept us before we could get far. The Blood Pack has been swarming the whole area to clog up any escaping through the tunnels. Easiest way out is straight across that bridge."

"That bridge has saved my life. It funnels all those witless idiots straight into my scope. But it works both ways. As long as that barricade is there, we won't be walking out as it is."

"If we can take that barricade down, it will be a stroll on Krieg to get out" the Kasrkin muttered gruffly.

Garrus blinked slowly, turning to examine the Cadian with the picturesque stunned expression of a turian strung out on stimulants who had just come across the first language he had ever not understood. "What? Long story, right?"

"You have no idea" Shepard assured his friend. "Alright, there's seven of us. We weather the assault and wait for an opening. They won't have the desire or the ability to dig in for a siege, so they'll be hitting us fast and hard."

"Eclipse are moving" his second-in-command barked. "I see mechs."

"That was fast." Shepard took a look and dodged back immediately as a sniper round punched through the air too close for comfort. "Snipers are up. First floor, prepare to repel mech assault. We'll assist from above."

Jacob radioed back his confirmation, reporting that they had shifted furniture for makeshift barricades.

"Scouts and Eclipse mechs" Garrus announced, switching smoothly into the squad's radio channel. "Prioritize engineers. The local Eclipse rely on their mechs, but their engineers have top-grade equipment. We can do a lot of damage from this vantage point."

A wave of LOKI mechs clambered over the barricade. There were a lot. Dangerous, but in these quarters their numbers did little to help. Too many targets would be moving through too narrow an area.

"With your permission, I am going to the first floor." Kane took a step back from the window and waited for Shepard's response. "Their number mean we will need close quarters combat, and I am certain that your people have much less experience than I do."

"Do it" he agreed. "Watch yourself down there."

Garrus fired first, taking a LOKI's head off. Taking that as their signal, Shepard's team unleashed a blistering hail of fire into the wave of stomping mechs, Several fell, but the others advanced without fear, their limited programming ordering an advance at all costs. In small numbers, LOKI were a nuisance. They were not much tougher than a standard combatant, but their nonorganic composition necessitated actual kill shots to incapacitate them, and their targeting systems made them worryingly accurate with small arms even when on the move or taking fire. They were a suppression tool, and in large numbers like this, they were damned effective. As the LOKI acquired targets, their weapons began to pour accurate sustained fire into windows, corners, and anywhere else the team showed their heads. The whining crack of near-misses filled Shepard's ears as he dodged in and out of cover, firing relentlessly at the incoming wave.

The lasguns wreaked a heavy toll, powerful lasbeams tearing the mechs apart each time they connected, which was often. Backed by biotic throws from Jacob, the team blunted the mechs at the end of the bridge. Hardly needing to aim, they poured fire into the bridgehead. Had the situation remained untouched, the Eclipse assault would have gone nowhere.

Then the second wave piled over the walls. Actual Eclipse troopers in characteristic golden armor advanced with a barrage of biotics and hacking strikes. Miranda swore loudly as her Tempest flared suddenly, the heatsink catching on fire in a spontaneous burst. Tossing the weapon away, the Cerberus agent pooled a corona of biotic force into her fists and threw two wide throws at her attacker. The first dissipated against the engineer's failing shields, but the second caught the salarian in the chest and hurled it shrieking into the void.

"Weapon's down. My biotics will be more useful on the ground" she called out, already sprinting for the door. A slight commotion sounded in her wake, and their scarred mercenary recruit rushed in, speed-limping to a window.

"Ankle took a glancing hit" the mercenary explained, throwing himself into a firing position and engaging the Eclipse below. "Won't be any good down there. Besides, your hulking friend has that covered."

Choosing to not ask what that meant, Shepard continued selecting targets and bringing them down with ferocious bursts. The Eclipse had a lone asari in the mix, and her outline glowed from behind its cover as the alien unleashed warp after warp at his men below. Two more Eclipse troopers protected her, using reinforced shields to keep the biotic safe from incoming fire.

"Asari, right side, two pillars back. Anyone got a shot?"

"Grenade out" came the thunderous yell a second later. A clunky, pineapple-shaped device hurtled out onto the bridge. For the briefest second Shepard allowed himself to wonder at the old-fashioned weapon. Modern grenades were sleek and disc-like. This one reminded him of an early gunpowder-age device.

The grenade landed near the three, but not as close as Shepard would have hoped. One of the Eclipse troopers even glanced down at the grenade, clearly surprised by the appearance of such an arcane weapon. The explosion tore through their shields and sent blood and gore spraying across the bridge, flattening every standing body within a half-dozen meters. A painfully-loud thunderclap shattered the sound of combat and left the rest of the Eclipse reeling.

For several numbing seconds, the gunfire ceased. Shellshocked Eclipse troopers stumbled into view from cover, clutching their heads or severed limbs as their minds tried desperately to overcome the sensory overload.

The lasguns fired again, mercilessly scything the Eclipse down.

"Sniper teams, two o'clock." Garrus reported, calmly relaying the information with emotionless precision.

Confident that the troops on the ground had the bridge covered, Shepard focused his attention on the new threat. Distant shapes danced in and out of cover, appearing for a few seconds at a time before firing and displacing. Their exchanges evolved into cat-and-mouse in seconds, with constant movement to draw out the Eclipse and eliminate them before they disappeared.

"Third assault! They're bringing a YMIR in."

"Our YMIR" Shepard whispered under his breath.

An Eclipse cargo hauler zoomed in, swooping at dangerous speeds, the pilot clearly looking to spend as little time as possible in front of enemy fire. Its engines flared as it spun about, presenting a well-armored aft ramp that lowered with desperate speed. A third wave of Eclipse came over the barricade at the same time, fronted by disposable LOKI mechs as per standard operating procedure. It was a lot of enemies.

Then again, they had a big ally stepping into the fray.

"It's a spirit's damned YMIR" Garrus breathed. His Incisor barked furiously as he fired at the mech while it dropped from the shuttle to land with a thud on the bridge that Shepard could feel ripple through his bones. "Jaroth is leading. The Eclipse are going all-in."

"That problem…" he dropped an Eclipse trooper holding a portable rocket launcher. "Should take care of itself.

The first two Eclipse troopers to rush behind the YMIR for protection promptly died before they realized their mistake. Tossing the bodies away with a ferocious backhand, the towering mech turned about and faced the startled Eclipse team. The spooling whine of its machinegun powering up sent them diving for cover. In the confined quarters of the bridge, they didn't stand a chance. Heavy slugs tore through shields and flesh with ease, while its rocket munitions tore apart the bridge pillars and hurled broken bodies about Their morale broke, and all thoughts of killing Archangel were replaced with the raw desire for survival. Jaroth's high-pitched shouts of indignation echoed across the way. Shepard tried to line up a shot, but the salarian leader was quick to find cover, dodging frantically from pillar to pillar, always keeping a body between himself and incoming fire.

"What the hell?" Garrus held his fire, watching the carnage unfold.

"I updated its targeting parameters before we stepped off."

"Ah. So we're friendlies?"

"Didn't have the time. I made it consider everything an enemy."

"Oh."

"Yup." Both paused to watch the YMIR rock backwards as a pair of rockets from the Eclipse brought its shields down. There weren't many left. The others had fallen silent, choosing to conserve ammunition while the mech savaged the mercenaries. "Team, start drilling down the YMIR. It'll turn on us once the Eclipse are gone. Let's mop this up."

They whittled down the YMIR, taking advantage of its depleted shields. The lasguns scored dark streaks against its armor, but their ability to bypass shields meant little due to the mech's thick armor and miniaturized components. The vital systems were hard enough to damage with a trained eye; the Cadians knew nothing about the mechs and did not know where to target for maximum damage. Seemingly recognizing his lack of familiarity, the Kasrkin targeted for joins, correctly surmising that they were weak and easier to target. Its heavily armored plating would blunt most of the damage, but its weapons systems were vulnerable. A sustained volley reduced its machinegun to slag just as the last Eclipse troopers fell. Only Jaroth remained, huddled up out of sight, silent and alert. Like a cornered animal. No Blue Suns or Blood Pack came to the barricade or overlooks to assist him. He was on his own.

Already weakened by the close range Eclipse fire, the YMIR was smoking and jerking about spasmodically as it turned towards Shepard's team. A heavy grenade arced out from below, courtesy of Jacob, and the mech collapsed backwards as the explosive shell crumpled its skull. Falling with a crunching grind of wailing pistons, the mech toppled against a pillar and lay slumped on the bridge. Jaroth scuttled up behind it, using the bulky body for cover.

"Damn you, Archangel! You're dead! You're all dead!"

"He's got spunk" Shepard muttered, searching the YMIR's profile for a sign of the salarian. "You killed his brother?"

"Should have killed Jaroth first. His brother was scum, but Jaroth is a survivor. If I had started with him, I would have ended the Eclipse presence weeks ago."

"Well, here's your cha-"

With a scream of rage, Jaroth rose from cover, a grenade launcher in his hands. He fired wildly, sending three grenades downrange before the combined fire of Shepard's team sent his corpse skidding across the bridge.

"That's all of them" Garrus stated, sweeping the far side with his scope. "Blood Pack and Blue Suns have gone to ground. Must have decided they wanted Jaroth out of the way more than they wanted to get in on the action."

"No honor among thieves" Shepard agreed. "That, or they didn't want to tangle with a YMIR."

"I'll take it." Relaxing his grip, Garrus shifted away from the window and retreated to one of the couches, slumping down in the cushions. "Spirits, that feels good. One down, two to go. Did you catch a hint of their plan, Shepard?"

"They weren't open about it, but I gathered they are going to make a push from the tunnels."

"Those doors are locked down there, but I did not have time to properly secure them. Really, the only way would be to collapse the tunnels, but not without endangering the structural integrity of the surrounding chamber."

"Then we'll just have to hold them off."

"My engineer…" he gestured wearily downstairs, "had worked up a program to seal hatches here. It's not much more complicated than a standard override, except it purges the software afterwards, so the only way to fix the door is either to blow the whole thing in or reinstall the software on the panel."

"I'm assuming that those doors are starship grade?"

"It'll take dedicated explosives to knock them open. I haven't had time to get down there and secure them. Not with my entire team dead."

"Good thing we showed up then. Can you put it on my omnitool?"

The turian fiddled with his omnitool for a moment before Shepard caught the transfer and uploaded it.

"If you don't mind, I'll stay up here. Rest my eyes a bit."

"I'll leave half my team here, on lookout. How many doors down below?"

"Three. One to the hangar, two to the tunnels."

"They're as good as closed."

-v-

This was combat as he was familiar with. Crushing the snarling vorcha's face under his boot as he stalked up to the panel, Kane drew his sidearm and fired a short burst down the hall, dropping two more of the vermin and sending the rest skittering back for cover. These things reminded him of Orks in mindset. They drew manic courage from numbers, but once broken they were utterly contemptible.

"Hallway clear" he called back. Shepard was only a few feet behind, hastily wiping steaming vorcha gore off of his rifle.

"I hate flamethrowers" the Commander grumbled, pressing his omnitool to the panel and activating the override.

"Be glad these are not promethium. Your flamethrowers are child's toys."

The hatch slid closed, the green light of the panel winking orange, then fading with an afterglow. The first door had required little effort, merely a short sprint to the hatch. As it had closed, they had seen the first vorcha in the distance. By the time they had flanked over to this tunnel, the pesky creatures had already reached the hatch, led by a flamethrower team. The impatient beasts had given their position away too soon, firing as they came around a blind corner, giving them both time to dive for cover. Working strange technoscience on his arm-mounted device, the Commander had caused the flamer to explode, bathing the entire vorcha team in flames. At such close range, the rest had panicked and retreated.

"Is there anything you've seen that you don't disparage?"

Ignoring the dark look the Commander sent him, Kane started back the way they had come. Officer Taylor had remained at the primary chamber, keeping their rear covered in case the other entrance was breached. Vorcha guts dripped from the bulkheads, a steaming goo that clashed with his respirator's systems. Even the air tasted cleaner here than on an Imperial ship, or the hives. This time was so painfully… clean.

Jacob Taylor half-turned to check who had stepped through the hatch. Seeing his comrades, he nodded and gestured to the far door. "Heard noise on that side, but nothing's come through. They must be waiting for all three groups to call in."

"That's not going to happen" Shepard grunted. He motioned for them to approach the inner door to the hangar, a much less defensible point due to the size of the doors and the flimsier materials. "Stack up, we're going in hard and fast. Blood Pack started an assault up above. That's the signal these ones are probably waiting for."

Kane went to the opposite side of the door as the Commander and his armorer. Pulling out his auspex, he confirmed over a dozen signatures in the next room. Possibly more; several of the signatures were close enough to each other to distort the clarity. "They are not deployed in a defensive position around the door. Strike fast and hard."

The Commander activated the door, and the three humans charged into battle again.

Vorcha died in droves. Their teeth-filled snarls dropped away as quickly as they appeared, obliterated by las blasts and lead. One charged with a pair of pistols, firing wildly as it shrieked in its guttural dialect. Kane fired a burst into its torso, nearly severing it at the waist, sidestepping the tumbling corpse, and pushed further into the hangar. After the first wave, the vorcha further back and broken and ran for cover. The chittering xenos fired blindly around their cover, filling the room with stray shots as they attempted to suppress the team.

"Get to the door" the Commander shouted, his voice booming over the gunfire. "Jacob, move left. Kane, center. I'll push right."

Registering the command, Sergeant Kane counted to three in his head before spinning around the corner, only to be knocked onto his back as a barreling missile of slavering muscle slammed straight into his chest. A snuffling growl spat into his face as drooling jaws clacked and snapped, held back by an instinctive arm shoved forward to keep this thing back.

Abandoning his hellgun, Kane scrambled for his knife. A tooth smashed into his visor, and its slobber blurred his vision. Dull claws raked at his chestplate, each strike like a punch from a fully grown man. Cursing loudly, Kane gave up on the knife and braced the arm holding the creature at bay. Using every ounce of his strength, he shoved it up and away, lifting it just a few centimeters, but forcing its head up and away. Launching an off-balance jab, he crushed its throat and roll his upper body out from under it. The beast let out a pained howl and thrashed, scraping at anything in reach. Snatching up the hellgun again, Kane smashed it stock into the side of the thing's head, knocking it aside and freeing his lower body from under it.

"Kane!"

"Working on it" he called back. Not pausing to inspect the thing that had attacked him, Kane allowed the pict recorder in his helmet to catch a glance and pushed onwards. Both of his comrades had made it halfway down the room. Flamer teams had appeared, bathing the room in a hellish glow as gouts of fire sprayed outwards. Switching to full power, Kane put several shots through their cover until one of the tanks exploded, engulfing a half-dozen of the creatures.

"Reinforcements incoming!" A purple glow appeared from Officer Taylor's cover. The infernal purplish light that wasn't warp energy lashed out, catching two vorcha and yanking them into the air. Commander Shepard shredded them, and the remaining scattered for better cover.

In the distance, past the armored hatch that was their objective, two air cars zoomed closer, painted in the ugly red of the Blood Pack colors. His briefing on Blood Pack combat doctrine inclined him to believe that those would be filled with krogan. After an initial assault of mass vorcha, the krogan would swoop in to clean up the remaining enemies. Those would be tougher, but better armed. With only three bodies, they lacked the ability to contain a sustained firefight. And combat was occurring upstairs as it was; they did not have time for a protracted battle.

"Moving to the access panel. Cover me!" The Commander had the same conclusion. Leaping over his cover, the Commander sprinted straight for the hatch. The vorcha moved immediately to stop him, sensing an easy target. Most rose out of cover entirely to shoot, forgetting the battle around them. Kane fired as quickly as he could acquire targets, slaying the vorcha by the handful. From his position in the center of the room, he also had a clear line to where the aircars were landing. The first swung around to deposit its occupants, presenting its port side in its unobscured glory.

Trusting that Officer Taylor would keep the Commander covered, Kane switched his attention to the transport. He did not wait for the hatch on the side of the aircar to lift. Sweeping his aim back and forth across the vehicle, he raked the passenger compartment. By the time it opened, krogan bodies slumped out, pushed aside as those still living frantically dove out of the aircar. Fully half of the xenos remained down, the others lumbered forwards, firing their shotguns and rifles. Before they could reach the hatch, Commander Shepard had reached the access panel. The hatch slammed closed, trapping the remaining vorcha inside, a paltry number that proved easy to mop up.

"You okay back there" Jacob asked as he loaded a new heat sink into his shotgun. "Saw that varren hit you. It was a big one."

"Is that what is was?" Kane allowed himself a moment of indulgence to inspect the creature while the Commander made his way back to them. It was an ugly, mutt breed of saurian-canine, with a savage underbite and gaping eyes. Powerful muscles lined its legs and stomach. A true predator, if an ugly one.

"Krogan like them as attack dogs. They're vicious."

"I agree."

"Break's over" Commander Shepard interrupted, slipping past them and breaking into a jog. "Topside is having trouble. We've got to get up there, now."

-v-

The Blood Pack attacked with the grace of a rampaging varren horde.

They attacked with a rampaging varren horde.

Jessie whined as the heat buildup began to threaten her integrity. Switching to his sidearm, a bog-standard M-3 Predator, he pumped a pair of rounds into the quivering animal and rushed back to the second defense line. The bridge was lost. When Garm sent in his first wave, it had been nothing but varren and vorcha. Grenades and biotics had thinned the pack, but enough had gotten past to devolve combat into frantic close quarters combat. Charging varren were trouble enough. In the confined space of a habitation unit, they were a nightmare. The only saving grace was that they lacked the distance to pick up speed, giving a half-second to react to their coming around a corner before their powerful legs propelled them forwards. Once a varren hit, it was game over. That half-second mattered.

"Coming in" he called out, trusting that the catsuit would hear. She had proven to have competent biotics, but her condescending attitude and overconfidence could be a problem in the future. She was arrogant, and arrogance got people killed.

A warp arced out from her position, narrowing missing him as it slammed into a howling vorcha that had just rounded the corner.

"Watch your aim" he snapped, hurdling an overturned table and dropping into cover behind it. Tossing a grenade behind him, he counted down the timer and grinned as the screams of varren and vorcha filled his ears.

"It went exactly where I intended it to" the raven-haired woman said, peering over cover at the other weird human as he retreated into the kitchenette, his weapon firing goddamned lasers that blasted the vorcha apart like they were firecrackers. Zaeed had so many questions, but they had to wait. For the moment he enjoyed the firepower that the exotic weapon brought, and how it dropped the resilient vorcha for good.

"Stop grumbling and kill them already."

"Oh, is that what we're doing?" He rose onto a knee and set his sights down the corridor. A varren bounded around the corner and he drilled a hole in its skull. "I got confused for a minute there."

"Krogan incoming" chirped in his ear. Their Archangel's voice came strained and tense. Constant combat did that to someone. But the warning was crisp, and what they were waiting for. There was no point holding the first floor against krogan. In these tight quarters, the krogan would shred them like blades of grass.

"Back up the stairs" Miranda shouted. Almost as if their companion did not have a radio. The grimfaced youngster handled himself like a professional soldier, rotating out from behind the column at the end of the counter and sidestepping to the stairs, firing short bursts into each entry point in turn to keep the enemy back. Using that to his advantage, Zaeed sprinted for the stairs, the click of the Cerberus agent's shoes ringing behind him. The guttural roar of angry krogan spilled down into the habitation unit, quickening his pace and sending blood rushing through his veins. The second team needed to get back here damn quick. The three of them alone would not be able to hold back Garm's entire krogan force.

"Well, this is fun" he grumbled, to the stranger as the man followed them and pinned to the stairwell's corner. The stranger shot him an exasperated look and muttered something under his breath that Zaeed couldn't catch.

"Just focus on killing them one at a time" Miranda quipped at the man. "And yes, he is necessary."

She had understood that gibberish?

"Arming mines" Archangel informed them. Tiny pinpricks of light appeared throughout the first floor as small palm-sized disk mines armed. There were a dozen or more, perhaps enough to blunt the krogan and even the odds.

"Roll out the welcome mat" Zaeed muttered, toggling Jessie to incendiary rounds. The Cerberus woman took position further along the hall, her Tempest holstered as she flexed her hands. Biotics would only do so much now. Krogan were tough enough that it took an asari's biotics to knock them on their ass.

The krogan charged into the main room, and Zaeed started firing. He concentrated on one at a time, battering at the krogan's thick hide with incendiary shots. The krogan weathered several shots before ducking for cover behind a sofa, only to disappear in a fireball as a mine went off in his face.

The second one in skidded like a crashed bicycle, the top half of his crest missing after a shot from the stranger's laser rifle blew it off. Two more rounds slammed into its corpse. That was overkill, but it sure felt good to watch.

Another krogan crumpled like a broken chair as Miranda dropped a warp on it before following up with a throw. That was impressive. But that was only two of them, and there were more pouring in. The air filled with lead as the krogan started pouring fire up at them, sending Zaeed scuttling for a different fire point so he wouldn't lose his head.

"What's taking him so long?"

"Believe it or not, Commander Shepard does not in fact kill his foes by giving them nasty looks." She launched a weak singularity backhanded towards the bottom of the stairs. Though it lacked the strength to be dangerous, it would stop anything from storming up. Her breathing was a little ragged. The amount of biotics she had pumped out in the past minutes had clearly drained her. A normal human biotic would be on the ground drooling by now.

"You good?"

Drawing her Tempest, she fired at the krogan below, scoring a hit that left a krogan yelping in pain. "Never better."

The krogan stopped shooting suddenly. A powerful silence flooded their ears. Then a powerful bellow erupted from below. Garm's voice boomed like thunder.

"Archangel! We have unfinished business. Come down here and face me, or I'll come up and drag you out of your hole!"

"That's not good. I was hoping he'd wait a bit longer." Zaeed risked a glance down before a barrage of fire sent him ducking for safety. "We aren't stopping him by ourselves."

"Grenades," she ordered, "then fall back to the last room."

"Works for me." Taking his last grenade, Zaeed primed it and waited for her to ready her own before lobbing it over the edge. A torrent fire greeted the flash of motion, but they were already sprinting for the final position.

"Blow the mines" she called out to Archangel. The turian greeted them at the door, covering the hallway as they rushed past and went for cover. This was their last stand position. There was no more retreating. He heard Miranda speaking to Shepard over a private channel.

"Garm's here" Zaeed informed the turian.

"I heard" came the flat reply. Swapping his sniper rifle for an assault rifle, Archangel started firing down the hallway. A pair of heavily armored krogan pounded up the stairs, pushing past the dispersing singularity as if it wasn't even there. Zaeed added Jessie to the contribution.

"Anything we should know about why he hates you so much?"

"I almost killed him twice. He regenerates like a freak of nature. I couldn't finish him off."

"Great."

-v-

The vorcha and krogan were all looking up when they charged out of the basement stairwell. That was where they died. Their attention focused upwards, firing suppressive volleys at the team upstairs, they reacted slowly to the new threats on their level. Caught in the flank, many did not have time to find cover before getting shredded by the furious barrage of lasbeams and solid shot.

Garm's four honor guard, large even for their species, clad in ornate armor as ceremonial as it was durable, stonewalled them at the stairs leading up to the second floor. Armed with shotguns and biotics, they laid a hellish fire down any time either of the three moved into view. Grenades would flush them out, but Kane had one left, and precious few back on the Normandy.

So it was time to do it the hard way.

"Garm's in" Miranda's voice called out from above, nearly drowned in the firefight. A thunderous roar chased her words, coming from the same location. "We need a hand, Shepard!"

"Working on it" the Commander shouted. He rose from cover for half a second, just long enough to gesture with his omnitool. Something exploded weakly up the stairs. "One's weapon is down."

"I'll take this" Kane called out, rushing past Shepard. Pellets ricocheted off his shield, the archaic device whining and sparking as it stopped the rounds. Truly a marvel of technology. Hurling himself up the stairs three at a time, he fired a dozen rounds into the first krogan as it stepped out to greet him, drilling a gaping hole through its torso. He threw his shoulder into it, knocking it flat on its back, and turned to face the remaining three snarling xenos.

His hellgun clicked.

"Ah…"

One of the xenos bellowed a challenge and charged forwards. Tossing the hellgun to the side, Kane unholstered his sidearm and knife, preparing to meet it in close combat. It did not swing its shotgun. It did not even draw a weapon. It struck him with a bone-shivering headbutt that tossed him backwards and sent him sliding across the floor, slamming into the corpse of another krogan.

His vision spinning, Kane thrust out his hand and fired blindly down the corridor. With three bulky xenos in the way, he couldn't miss. Even though his aim was awful, arm wavering from disorientation, he heard the screams and did not release the trigger until it also clicked.

The Commander cautiously appeared, sweeping the dead with his rifle. "You good, Kane?"

Not waiting for an answer, he charged down the hallway to the last of the fighting. As Kane blinked away his dizziness, he spotted an enormous krogan tearing through the room, beset on all sides by frantic gunfire. The new one, the mercenary, rolled over a couch milliseconds ahead of a furious blast that ripped a hole through the couch.

"Come on," Officer Taylor grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to his feet. "That head still attached?"

"I've had worse." Kane holstered his sidearm and drew the commissar's power sword. Flicking the activation nub, he breathed a long sigh and started forward. "Let's kill this bastard."

The hulking krogan leader swung a long-shafted hammer in a wide circle as Kane entered the room, sending the Commander's team ducking for cover. In his other hand he held a weapon the size of a man's torso, fitted with an ugly bayonet dripping with fresh blood. It reminded him of a Ripper gun, the kind that Ogryn's used, but smaller. A host of bullets pinged off its shields and punched into his armor, but none of the wounds seemed to bother the krogan. It laughed as it spun about, crashing the hammer into a table that exploded in a spray of splinters. Their mysterious target scuttled away from the table, limping badly.

"You're going to run out of hiding places before I run out of hammer, Archangel. Your pathetic allies," he paused to angle his other weapon towards Officer Lawson. Her eyes widened and she threw up a rippling purple barrier just in time. The force of the impact still knocked her back a step and she staggered towards other cover, sweat pouring from her face. "Are nothing! I'll kill them all like I killed your team."

Kane stopped in the doorway, sizing the creature up, then charged. The krogan turned to inspect the new arrival, a throaty chuckle pushing its way past his lungs.

"And what are you, you brought a sword to a krogan fight."

Kane swung diagonally from above, ideally aiming to cut the krogan's arm off and bisect its chest. The xenos hulk threw its hammer to intercept the blow. Blue sparks spat out as the power sword cleaved the hammer just above the krogan's hand, taking the head off and burying the tip deep into the creature's shoulder. Garm howled with real pain, but did not lose the presence of mind to drive Kane back with a thrust of his headless, but no less dangerous hammer shaft. The shaft was metal, and the end was now incredibly sharp.

"Ah, that actually hurt." Garm rolled his arm and tossed his shotgun away. "This, I like. This is a real fight."

Before he the krogan could advance, the loud crack of a sniper rifle fired at close quarters rang through the room. Garm flinched forwards, then turned and snarled at the shooter.

"I'll get to you in a-"

The distraction gave Kane the opening to leap forward and thrust. Dancing back with surprising dexterity for one of its size, Garm slapped the blade aside with his pole and threw a punch that could have taken Kane's head clean off his shoulders. Instead he twisted to the side, years of training and instinct serving him well, and realigned his strike to take off Garm's good arm at the elbow. His meaty hand flopped to the ground, pole clenched in death's grasp.

Stunned by the sudden loss, the krogan hesitated, shock flooding his nervous system. Not letting it have a moment to collect itself, Kane stabbed it through the chest where a human heart would be, then ripped the blade downwards, opening the xenos from collar to groin. It stumbled forwards, mouth working to spit out a curse. Kane's backhand took off its head, splitting it between its jaws.

Garm toppled to the ground with a weighty thump.

Giving the blade a cursory flick to ensure it was clean, he deactivated the power field and reverently sheathed it. It had drawn its first blood in this new world of theirs. And it had served him well. It was a good blade, a tad light for his liking, but for a smaller human like the commissar, well enough. Turning back to the door, he replaced the power pack on his pistol and inspected the others.

Several showed wound, nothing serious. Battered, bruised, scraped and bleeding. Corporal Brunson picked himself up from underneath a collapsed bunk bed, his eyes glassy and his gait unsteady. His lasgun lay several feet away. Clearly he had let the xenos get too close.

"That's two down" Shepard heaved, slumping down beside Archangel to catch his breath. "Woo, aren't you glad we showed up?"

"Why does he had a sword" the turian asked.

"Are you complaining?"

"...no."

"It's a-"

"Long story?"

The Commander grinned and slapped the xenos on the shoulder. Kane's lip curled in a sneer, and he stalked out of the room to fetch his hellgun.

-v-

"Can't believe that one can walk." Zaeed stared down the corridor, watching the hulking figure stomp over the cluster of krogan dead as if they were exterminated pests.

"What do you mean" Jacob asked, shooting the man a questioning glance as he and Brunson pushed Garm's corpse to the side of the room.

"His balls must be the size of cantaloupes, and made of titanium too. What sort of psychopath charges a krogan armed with a sword?"

"That's not just a sword" the corporal grumbled, sucking in a deep breath before throwing his weight into the krogan. The body shifted slowly, unwilling to give ground. He wondered why they were putting his much effort into moving a perfectly good sandbag to the side when they could use it to fortify the room.

"And why is it I can't understand a damn word those two have said?" Zaeed glared at the Cadian, making his displeasure known, and heard, for again. "There isn't a human-native dialect that we don't have built into the translators. Hell, they could be clicking their tongues and we'd still get it."

"Is he going to shut his mouth?" Brunson heaved again, and the body rolled off the carpet and onto the tiled floor. The loss of friction let the body slide suddenly, nearly throwing him off balance. His lasgun slid loose from his shoulder, hardened stock clattering against the floor. "Throne, this bastard is heavy. What's the skinny on the last group?"

"Blue Suns are the last ones in" Shepard announced. They all stopped what they were doing and turned to watch. The Commander had pulled himself to his feet and stood in the center of the room, his weapon drawn but held at ease. "They're the toughest, and the smartest, but it's nothing we haven't seen before."

"Tarak's going to hit us soon" Zaeed stated. "Try and charge in before we can recover. Multiple fronts, moving fast. Overwhelm and outmaneuver."

"Bridge" Shepard asked.

"Bridge, balcony, kitchen. He'll send in via air cars, rappelling, any direction he can think of."

Further questions were cut off a the distant whine of a flier rose in the air. Leaving the body where it lay, Brunson scrambled over to a window and took overwatch on the bridge. The others did likewise, a few breaking out of the room and moving to defensive positions across the habitation unit. He shifted back behind the wall, tracking the nimble gunship as it whipped past, spraying the front of the building with its machine guns as it strafed past. A small part of his mind grinned with astonishment at the dexterity of the craft, flitting about like a bird rather than a hulking vehicle of metal and circuitry. The rest of his mind translated the rate of fire of its guns, the speed of its thrusters, and started the instinctual calculations that would draw his aim where it needed to go.

Flying close behind the gunship were several air cars, unarmed, whistling by. Knowing what would follow, Brunson tracked the air cars and shouted their location out, using his micro-bead to signal the Kasrkin. "Troops landing, balcony, second floor! Shifting to engage."

He moved from the window and rushed to the collapsed bunk beds. Smashing the last intact post so that it dropped flat on top of the other. The turian slid into position beside him. His skin prickled, reflexively checking the xenos' weapons and armor, profiling the threat.

"Let the first one land" Archangel shouted. "I've got a trick for them."

Four transports came into view over the balcony. The first one swooped in to hover just a man's height above the landing. Hatches slid open, and a full squad of mercenaries in Blue Suns armor leapt down, tossing grenades for suppression. Standard operating procedure in a combat drop. According to training, that is.

The problem with too much focus on the enemy meant too little focus on the landing site. Archangel held up a detonator and depressed the trigger. Three furious explosions engulfed the squad and their transport. When the smoke cleared, smoking body parts lay all across the balcony, and the air car was spinning away.

Undeterred by the failure of the first wave, the next air car slid right into the same slot. This time half the squad dropped down while the second half laid down fire. Taking that as their cue, Brunson shifted forwards and opened fire in short bursts, targeting one enemy after the next. The others added their weight to the counter fire. In seconds, the long room was nothing but a shooting gallery.

"Make way for the next squad" one of the Blue Suns shouted out. The powerfully built woman, with blazing red hair and a light machine gun, rose from cover and rushed forward to the next set of beds. Her shields sparked frantically as the others tried to bring her down before she dropped the beds and huddled behind them.

"Second team, ground floor" Commander Shepard called out suddenly. "Jacob, Kane, with me! Garrus, hold this down!"

"Watch the gunship!"

Most of the mercenaries had chosen to hide, firing wildly from their cover, putting enough lead in the air to keep their heads down. Brunson flinched as a shot impacted directly in front of his face. Tracing the shot back to its owner, he dropped the mercenary with a careful pair of shots through the xenos' cover. More fell as heavy firepower chewed through their positions or caught them when they tried to move from one spot to the next. A third air car was landing, this one facing engines' towards them to prevent any shooting into the compartment bay. More bodies leapt out, some armed with launchers and heavy weapons. Those were the ones to worry about.

He shifted fire appropriately.

A spinning grenade arced out from the Blue Suns. Miranda Lawson caught it midair with a purple light and hurled it back in their faces. The explosion tossed shattered bodies about, just in time for a half-dozen more to take their places.

"Enemies in the kitchen" Zaeed called from behind. The mercenary alternated between firing down the room and leaning into the interior railing to fire down into the kitchenette. "This is getting hairy."

"Then let's shave it down." Brunson tapped the turian and held a grenade out. Archangel nodded and grabbed one of his own. Without needing to speak the same language, the intent was clear. They tossed their grenades together. The Blue Suns shouted warnings.

Then the explosions flattened everything.

-v-

"Right side, stairwell!" Shepard called out the engineer as the salarian scuttled forwards, sticking to a planter for cover. Before the Blue Suns merc could lock down his cover, a brilliant scarlet beam blew out the salarian's chest and sent him crumpling to the floor.

"Let side, two with a launcher!" She sucked in a deep breath, careful to fill her lungs to capacity, and drew strength once again into her fists. This extended battle was draining her faster than she would have liked. It had been too long since her last long engagement. She was dangerously out of practice. Even with the insane speed and repetitiveness of the mercenary assaults, her energy was flagging. She should have had Jacob grab an extra nutrition bar. It was easy to forget how quickly biotics could drain a person when they were seldom called upon.

Fire surged through her fingers, pooling in the palm of her hand, and she released it at the Blue Suns human with the launcher. Her throw struck the man from above, smashing him into the floor hard enough to crack the tile into little fragments. She shivered as bullets chased her back into cover. Pulse racing, lungs sucking for breath. Time to put the biotics aside. She fired a blind burst from her Tempest in the direction of the Blue Suns below.

"You pack a punch" the Kasrkin muttered, leaning out over the stairwell to spray a hail of lasbeams into the Blue Suns positions.

"Is that supposed to be a joke?" She grit her teeth as a dull thud shook the wall, rattling her bones.

"Acknowledgment of your ability to make the other side dead." He released his grip on the hellgun to draw his sidearm and fan shots into three Blue Suns that were entering through the broken windows they had come through. One never landed, tumbling backwards into the void. The second crumpled against the edge of the window, stuck lifeless on the line.

"Is that how you compliment people in your time?"

"What's a compliment?" He slapped a new charge pack into the hellgun. "That was a joke."

"Grenades!"

Shepard's warning gave them the second they needed to defend. Grenades were the textbook way to clear a fortified position. Her biotics were one of the few things keeping them alive. They could only deflect so many, and the Blue Suns had brought launchers in number.

Throwing her strength into a biotic field, she hurled a barrier in front of each opening they were using. Several grenades sunk into the field, freezing in place as they detonated in muted bursts. One got past her, whipping up the stairwell. Kane turned away from it, slamming into Miranda and covering her body as the explosion rocked them both and nearly knocked her off her feet.

"Sound off!"

"Healthy" the Kasrkin screamed, his voice booming to compensate for shock-addled hearing.

"Alive" Miranda sputtered, coughing as her lungs struggled to draw in air. The man's heavy armored had nearly crushed her. There would be bruising after this was over.

"They're rushing the stairs!"

Releasing her as quickly as he had grabbed her, Kane returned to the stairwell. She pulled herself back to the window and looked out. A whole team of Blue Suns were moving forwards, charging for the stairs while the rest laid down fire. "We need support!"

"No we don't."

The Kasrkin swept out to greet the squad, hellgun tearing them to ribbons where they stood. Caught in the open, in the stairs, they died gruesomely. One managed to stumbled to the top step, a bloody hand flopping lifeless on the landing. A contemptuous kick sent the body skidding back down the steps, colliding with the others and setting off an avalanche of broken bodies.

The loss of their assault force broke the morale of the rest of the Blue Suns. Panicked cries rose from the horrified mercenaries, and several broke cover in an attempt to flee towards the bridge. The Kasrkin showed no mercy as he gunned them down. Miranda held her fire, watching in astonishment as they fell. Did the man even know how to take prisoners, or show restraint.

"Blue Suns are bugging out" Shepard relayed to the team. "Balcony?"

"Clear" Jacob reported over the radio. "Gunship is buzzing. Heads down, its coming in hot!"

She stole a glance down the corridor, listening to the zooming engines drawing close. The corridor was a deathtrap. There was nothing to hide behind. "Clear the corridor!"

The gunship swung into view, flitting past the distant window in the blink of an eye. In that terrifying heartbeat, a stream of lead poured into the corridor. She threw up a barrier that blocked the first dozen bullets, giving them time to drop to the floor. Once again, the Kasrkin threw himself in the way, rolling on top of her, as her barrier failed. His body quivered as several rounds struck, and hot blood splashed across her face.

"Shepard!"

Then it was over, the gunship whistling away for another run.

She scrambled to her feet, expecting Kane to rise with her. His body slumped facedown as she stood, blood pooling beneath him.

"Shepard, Kane's down!"

Pushing his body onto his back, she checked frantically for wounds. Two in his gut, caught between his armored plates, and one in his neck that had nearly torn his head off. Ripping his helmet free, she checked his eyes; they were dilated and wide as saucers.

"Get me up" he gasped, sucking shallow breaths. His hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled. "Not… done… yet."

"Stay down! Shepard, I need medigel!"

The whump of grenade launchers targeting the gunship punched through the shriek of its engines. The team had its hands full.