No sooner had Starg gone storming out than Wrex scooped Kip up in his arms.
"You with me?" He asked. A cough was the first thing to answer him.
"Wrex," Kip slurred. "What…."
"I have a plan."
The turian was limp and quiet; Wrex knew he'd lost a dangerous amount of blood. Holding Kip tightly, he darted through the door and continued down the hall, stepping through the outstretched arm of the vorcha guard.
"Halt," it chattered. "I tell Starg."
"Tell him and I smash you into paste," Wrex answered. He continued down the hall, glancing over his shoulder to see the vorcha staring dumbly after him. Looking back ahead, Wrex searched the walls. Even this rickety deathtrap was bound to have at least a few medi-gel dispensers.
Wrex felt something sharp against his chin, and noticed that Kip was reaching for him. The turian's eyes were filmy and unfocused.
Wrex searched the adjoining rooms. All of them looked to be cells, similar to the one Kip had been placed in. As he approached an intersection in the hallways, he could hear Weyrloc Tersh talking with another warrior just out of sight.
"So it might not be the one Starg put the bounty for."
"But Starg will still butcher him – won't he?"
"Of course. A turian's a turian. What would be the point in letting one live once we've got it?"
Wrex gritted his teeth until they were set as firmly as the decision in his head. He crossed the hallway quickly to avoid the Blood Pack's attention. Continuing his search, he finally reached a cell with a red and white dispenser inside. He deposited Kip on the floor, snapped open the main compartment, and retrieved several gel packets.
"You awake?" He asked.
"Yeah." The answer sounded more like a question than a statement. Wrex could tell that the turian was fighting pain.
"So what happened?"
"Varren."
"I need you to hear this," Wrex said, as he sought each injury and pasted on gel. "I've seen people die. Your kind. My kind. And I've seen them suffer in ways like this and in plenty of others before they find a way to do it. It wouldn't exactly horrify me to see you do the same."
Wrex could see Kip's brow plates rub together. Maybe it was pain, confusion. Maybe both.
"But that doesn't mean that it isn't pyjack shit all the same. Pointless, is what I'm trying to say. Why should I let these imbeciles rip the life out of you when you're probably worth a hundred of them?"
Wrex rolled Kip onto his front, exposing an ugly set of slashes down his carapace. There was still some medi-gel left for them.
"My own father may have been just like them," Wrex continued. "But at least his father wasn't a fool – and he told me something I'll never forget. Killing an enemy – be they salarian, turian – that's business. But killing someone stupid is a favor to the universe."
"Right," Kip whispered, not entirely lucid. It was an agreement all the same.
"So I don't know about you, Kip," Wrex said. "But I plan to do the universe a lot of favors before I'm back on solid land. You think you can help me?"
Kip propped himself up on one elbow, examining the closed wounds on his arm and leg. He pushed up further to sit.
"I want to," he said. Wrex noticed a sharpness in the bite of the turian's jaws that hadn't surfaced before. "Get me a gun and I'll shoot anything that comes my way. But I can't take the fight to them. Not…as I am."
"Urdnot!"
Wrex turned to see Tersh fuming in the doorway. "What are you doing with the prisoner?" He said.
Three heavy strikes – one through the eye, one across the throat, and one powered with biotics – and Tersh was slumped in a heap upon the hallway. Wrex ripped the assault rifle from the lesser krogan's grasp.
"I've got a plan for all of this," he said, turning back to Kip, and smirked.
Two hapless vorcha later, Wrex had all the weapons he could ask for. Handing Tersh's rifle and omni-tool to Kip, he decided to make do with a rocket launcher in one hand, a shotgun in the other – only after he'd put Kip in a secure perch on his shoulders.
"Ready?" He asked. An alarm was already blaring through every corridor of the ship.
"Ready."
Kypran could only imagine what his ancestors would think of him; assault rifle in hand, riding a krogan into battle. Granted, he had no other choice if he wanted mobility.
The end of the hallway opened onto a catwalk which outlined a large arena below. Kip recognized it as the first place he'd been taken to on the ship. The vorcha and varren waiting for them charged, eager to attack after the alarm had been raised. Wrex blasted the nearest ones apart with his shotgun. When they kept coming, Kypran knew what he had to do. The peaceful desk worker of the recent past was put away on a mental shelf. The soldier would have to keep his future safe.
The assault rifle blazed. The vorcha died just as loudly and messily as Kypran remembered. With his talons ungloved, he had to be sure not to damage the rifle, even as the force of its kickback mounted. Still, his aim sent rounds through the chests and eyes of enemies and splattered the walls red. Smoke wafted in the air.
"Glorious!" Wrex yelled.
Wrex had reached the other end of the catwalk, with Kypran still balanced atop him. They reloaded with fresh thermal clips, and Wrex opened the next door. All three of the krogan waiting for them were riddled with slugs.
A crackle sounded above them. Kypran noticed a speaker on the ceiling.
"This is Captain Starg," bellowed the speaker. "You have made a grave mistake, Urdnot. I am charting a course for Omega. When we arrive, you will have two choices: surrender and accept Blood Pack justice, or be shot down instantly!"
Kypran felt a rumble below him. Wrex was laughing.
"He thinks he can stop us that easily? We'll head to the front of the ship," he said. "Starg won't have time to jump us to Omega before he meets his end."
Kypran kept a tight grip on Wrex as the krogan charged down the hall, blasting a hole in a vorcha's midsection without breaking his stride. No other Blood Pack fighters had surfaced to stop them. Kypran wondered if they feared a death as quick and brutal as that of their friends in the arena.
They reached a set of stairs leading up. Wrex stormed them two at a time. Two krogan warriors waited with guns drawn, flanking the open doorway at the top.
"You take the right one!" Wrex said.
Kypran sought the warrior's exposed neck and blasted as many holes as his thermal clip allowed. The krogan gurgled and clutched his neck, but still managed to fire his shotgun once. It stripped the ceiling panel above them to tatters, missing Kypran's head by a few meters.
A heavy slam sounded to the left. Wrex's enemy had been dashed on the stairs, displaced brain matter pooling under his head. Wrex lunged up the final stairs, leaving the carnage behind. In the room beyond stood Starg, who whirled to face them in a panic.
"You dare?" He snarled.
Kypran was about to pull the trigger when he realized that his thermal clips were spent. Two sharp clicks came from either side of the doorway.
"What-"
Industrial doors snapped inward to block the way, but were barely stopped by Wrex's body stuck between them. The impact threw Kypran from his perch; propped up only on his hands, he sat useless between Wrex and Starg. Looking back, he could see that Wrex's entire shape flared blue as the krogan used all his strength to push back. The doors would not retract, but weren't quite managing to crush him.
"Kip!" Wrex yelled. "Shoot him!"
"Out of clips!"
"What did you think would happen?" Starg taunted from across the room. As Wrex remained pinned, Starg stalked to a set of shelves, where a hand cannon waited for him.
Kypran searched for a solution. An extra clip near enough to drag himself to, a separate weapon. He eyed the omni-tool that he'd taken. Lighting it up, he jabbed at the different functions. At last, a long, glowing blade emerged from the device.
"I had heard of the reckless arrogance of Urdnot. But did you truly think you could take over a ship with only a crippled turian to help you? My ship, no less?"
"I've got something," Kypran whispered. And then he was swathed in blue, floating off the floor. Looking back, he could see that Wrex had lost some of his grip on the doors; half crushed, he kept one hand outstretched. Kypran realized that he was being lifted remotely by pure biotic force.
Wrex pushed him forward. He raised the omni-blade, ready to strike, even as Starg aimed back at him with his hand-cannon. Kypran had almost reached him when he was suddenly pulled to the side. A gunshot sounded. Then he was pushed at Starg again and at last connected, drawing a heavy spurt of pale orange blood. As Starg fell, so did Kypran, finally released as Wrex refocused on the door. Sitting up, Kypran could see the life draining from the Blood Pack leader's eyes.
"I hope you know," Kypran said, "That your lackeys suffered the same. On Illium."
He began to drag himself to the consoles at the end of the room. Surely one of them would retract the doors. A choking, gagging cough sounded from Starg.
"My…son…."
Kypran looked back in spite of himself, faintly disturbed. The krogan went limp, dead, and he shook off the feeling, crawling further.
A button with a door etched next to it waited. Simple enough. One press, and the doors finally released Wrex.
"Are you alright?" Kypran asked. The krogan had dropped to his hands and knees, but was already beginning to pick himself back up.
"Fix the course," Wrex said. "Starg had changed it. We're tracking down those batarians no matter what."