Chapter 16: Contact
Korlus, Imir System, Eagle Nebula, during Dossier: The Warlord. Published 7/8/22, last updated 7/10/22.
Garrus ducked into cover and ejected his sink. A cluster of marks had cropped up on the scanner due west of their position. "I'm out. Be advised, Shepard, looks like another squad's mobilized."
"Oh, hell yes," she said. "Lawson, relocate to my two and gimme an EMP on contact."
"Aye aye, Commander."
"Exactly how many Suns does this Jedore person have under her?" he demanded, sparing a glance at their telemetry. "Not a full company?"
She looked sidelong, loading up an ammo mod. "Thought you'd be glad for the target practice, Vakarian, considering we've been stuck on board for days."
"That was before I ran out of heatsinks. Now I'm just watching you and Lawson rack up kills."
"That's rough, buddy."
"Yeah. I want to play with the mercs too."
"Charge is hot, Commander," Miranda interjected. "Additionally, this mission is starting to feel very much like taking two puppies on a trip to the dog park."
"Thanks, Lawson. And fair. Been awhile since I got to stretch my legs."
"I'm much better obedience trained than a puppy," he drawled. "More useful, too. For example, I can tell you that those mercs are going to clear the door in about twenty seconds."
"Still liable to piss on everything, though," Shepard said. She set up, bracing herself on the pitted concrete.
The Suns mustered downfield and charged right into Miranda's pulse. The commander shot six times in succession, shifting as she aimed, and dropped back into cover as the second wave returned fire. Her spent sink rolled against his foot.
"Four down," he reported. "Jesus, Shepard. Have some issues to work out?"
"Lotta fuel to burn, Vakarian." She flashed a grin at him. "Don't worry. Plenty left for you."
"Still have to scrounge some clips first."
"Well, considering those guys didn't get a shot off, you're about to hit the motherlode."
He checked his distance to the nearest body and ducked as a missile sailed overhead. "Try to drop a few closer to our position. I can't exactly army-crawl up there."
"You got it. Next time." She rotated her shoulder, checked the field. "Gonna move. Lawson, keep 'em bunkered down."
She vaulted the barrier, hit the ground running, and slid into cover forward of them, redrawing their three point formation. "Any concussive rounds?" she yelled over the barrage.
He switched them to radio communications. "About twenty."
"Letting 'em close. Garrus, line 'em up and knock 'em down as near to the corner as you can get."
"Yes ma'am. Another squad en route."
"Got it. Lawson, hit 'em with a charge three yards out from my position."
The unit ran in and split. Half went right, sheltering behind the ramparts shielding the bridge ahead. The others joined what remained of the first team. They advanced down the walkway, bunching up on his readouts. Bullets sailed overhead as he loaded the round.
"Releasing EMP," Miranda said.
A sputter of failing shields, mingled shouts. He rose out of cover and fired. The slug clipped the Sun who'd taken point and detonated as she rounded the corner.
They went down like a house of cards. An SMG went off. Bullets sprayed the ceiling. Someone screamed. Shepard leaned out and unloaded her Mattock into the scrum, then reached in and yanked. A merc slid out cursing in a screech of ceramic.
She grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, slammed his head into the rampart, and sent him staggering towards them.
"Incoming, Vakarian!"
"Wh—"
Lawson pivoted as the Sun stumbled past her position and shot him in the back, throwing him onto the barricade. Garrus yanked him over and slammed the butt of the Widow into his face.
He jerked his rifle from the ruin of the Sun's helm. "The fuck?" he yelled up to her, forgetting they were on comms.
"Shit, cool it. Only got the two ears."
"Sorry. Let me rephrase that. The actual fucking fuck?"
The commander was still shooting. "Sinks. Said you needed 'em. Now you got 'em."
He flipped the merc over and unholstered his gun. "Next time, Shepard, I think I'd prefer my game killed and dressed before it gets to my door."
She snorted. "Weren't you just bellyaching about bein' stuck on the sidelines while Lawson and I cleaned up?"
He grinned at his rifle, popping the chamber. "I take it all back. Last time I ask you for anything, Commander."
"Yeah? Make a note of that, will ya, XO? Gunnery Officer's next request to be summarily denied."
"Noted and forwarded to your terminal, Shepard."
"I don't believe you. You're actively firing right now." He checked the scanner, sliding sinks into the Widow's breech. Hostiles were nearly terminated—two still pinned down in cover.
Her rifle rapped out. "Voice to text, am I right, Lawson?"
"That's right, Shepard." A burst of automatic fire. "Our hardsuits are programmed to transcribe all verbal communications. It's the work of a second to transmit that data to you."
"These are unfair odds, you know. I demand to bring Doctor Solus along for company next mission, now you two are in league."
"Summarily denied, as stated."
"Can never have nice things. Also, I think those Suns are going to make a run for it. They're moving along the rampart toward the exit."
"Received. Switching to SR. You good to fire?"
"Yeah. Two hostiles."
"I'll take the second mark. Flush 'em out, Lawson."
"Understood." She keyed her omnitool and fired a pulse over the rail.
They rabbited. Garrus fired, cranked the bolt, swung to the other target. Already down and flickering out on the radar.
"Clear and confirmed," he reported, switching off comms.
Shepard raised an eyebrow as she angled her muzzle upward. "Checkin' my work, Vakarian?"
"...You weren't supposed to see that. Sorry, Commander."
"All good. Nothing wrong with an abundance of caution after that last mission."
"My thoughts too. Clips?"
"Go ahead. I'll stay here in case that all clear turns into something else." She drew her assault, training sights on the open door.
He moved through the bodies with Lawson, restocking cartridges and stashing the spares in his bandolier.
He returned to her. "Brought you heatsinks. Lawson's hacking a PDA we found on one of the mercs. Might contain some intel."
"Thanks."
He knelt, taking a guard position beside her. Shepard posted up with her back against the rampart and thumbed sinks into her rifle.
"How's the knee?" he asked.
"Good as new, far as I can tell." She closed the Mattock and started reloading her M-98. "Deconditioned some. Gotta build my wind back. Why, notice anything?"
"Maybe a little more use of cover, this mission. Though that could be due to any number of reasons, like the fact that a full third of these Suns are packing heavy weapons."
"Yep. Had enough seeking missiles to last me a lifetime." She drank from her canteen. "Company must've learned something from their run-ins with Archangel."
"Like what? The fact that he's unkillable?"
"I was thinkin' the fact that he just about went to heaven twice 'cause some guy had an ML-77."
"The day I die, I'm getting sprung from heaven," he said.
"Don't wanna lie around in a white smock all day singing songs about your boss?"
"Something like that. I have a problem with authority."
Miranda was finished with the PDA. They formed up and advanced into the room ahead, where a flight of stairs switchbacked up to the next floor.
"What's with heaven, anyway?" he asked as they started the climb. "Sounds boring. Rather be reconstituted in a new body or maybe go to hell."
"The company'd probably be better," Shepard agreed.
"Yeah. Could get drinks with Sun Tzu, George Patton, Hannibal Barca…uh. I'm out of names."
"Virginia Woolf," Lawson volunteered.
"Isn't she some kind of literary powerhouse?"
"That as well as an incredible racist. She once referred to Portuguese Jews as 'repulsive objects.'"
"Oh. Yeah, sounds like a great drinking buddy. Thanks a lot, XO. Picking up life signs ahead, Commander."
"Contact!"
"So let me get this straight," said Shepard as they reached the landing. She signaled them into cover. "One, the Garrus Vakarian version of hell is exclusively populated by humans. Two, it's a seedy city with an active nightlife?" She set up between them, assembling her SR.
"Sounds about right, yeah." He switched them to comms.
"Engage at will." She fired, dropped into cover, ejected her clip. A mark winked out on the scanner. "Christianity's got a few non-human converts, y'know. And hell's famously full of fire, brimstone, and eternal torment, not bars."
"Please. You wouldn't know, saint. Bet you got fast-tracked to heaven as soon as you died."
"If I did I got blackout drunk, 'cause I don't remember a damn thing."
"Nothing? No golden light, no ethereal sounds, no uh, nice smells?"
"Smells?"
"Yeah. No? Shepard, I don't know from heaven."
"Me neither. Need Williams for this conversation."
"Scratch one. Maybe. Every time I asked Ash about her faith I ended up more confused than I started."
"Yeah, theology is like that."
They settled into the rhythm of combat, pushing deeper into the base. The skyline grew broader as they climbed. Pulse, fire, load, advance. The occasional order, the regular wisecrack. Pretty rote, and a damn sight better than playing with code in the battery all day.
Okeer was a raving fanatic, Jedore his power-hungry dupe. They found her battling clones on the penultimate floor of the base, in what he assumed was a nursery. Birthing tanks lined the central aisle like teeth, some shattered, others sealed. Raised walkways flanked either side, running the room's length.
The field was a tactical mess, with no chokepoints and multiple routes to their position. Cover was shitty and inconveniently situated, but at least it was there. Expel 10 spun up on his playlist as he ducked behind a tank, narrowly avoiding a missile.
"She has a YMIR Mech," he said. "Of course she has a YMIR Mech. Why wouldn't she have a YMIR Mech?"
Shepard was firing point blank into a charging clone's face at the first approach. She slammed her rifle butt between his eyes and he reeled down the steps away from them. "Lawson!"
The air bent, shredding armor and buckling limbs. The clone collapsed and didn't rise.
"Stay down and take out that mech, Vakarian!" she ordered. "Lawson, split time between shields and armor. I'll keep the krogan off our side."
"You've got it, Commander," he said.
Shepard was fifteen yards down the platform, racing to engage a clone on the far stair. He glanced at Miranda, activating his omnitool. "Help me out with an EMP?"
The pulses landed one after the other. The mech's shields rippled, sparked, and failed as Lawson followed with a double burst from her Tempest, overloading its kinetic barrier system.
She popped her heatsink and recoiled as another missile sailed past. "Do you have this, Vakarian? I should—"
"Affirmative. Thanks."
Miranda nodded and broke cover. He flipped the safety on his Widow, set it down. Unholstered his assault and loaded a high impact round, visor registering her marker in a new position halfway between him and Shepard.
The YMIR had swiveled away, tracing Lawson's path with a fusillade of bullets. Unfortunately for his odds of survival, he needed it facing him dead on. He leaned out of cover and loosed the round.
The concussion rippled through its chassis and into the floor with a sound like a gong. Rivets popped from their moorings. A handful of plates crashed to the ground. The mech swayed, arrested its forward motion, and ratcheted back towards him, machine gun spinning up.
A flash of LEDs as its head swung around. He fired one-two-three-four-five-six-click one-two-three-four-five-six-click into the blitz, dead into its faceplate. The spent sinks bounced away. His shields flared and fizzled out. Bullets sparked off the platform as he hit the ground and grabbed his SR.
The barrage stopped. A heartbeat, a click and whir. Mech was cycling to its rocket launcher. His shields were down, but it was now or never.
Garrus exhaled, checked the mech's position on the scanner, and rolled out of cover.
The red blur of its faceplate resolved into a starred and cracked constellation through the scope as he pulled the trigger.
It exploded. Burning parts flew past as he scrambled back behind the tank.
He popped his sink and put eyes on the far end of the field. Clones were strewn unmoving up and down the room. Lawson had Jedore in a warp field. The Sun's armor was in active melt, flaking away in pieces. Shepard was nowhere in sight.
A flash on the periphery. Something ripped clean through Jedore's skull into open air. She collapsed like a broken marionette as the report of an M-98 boomed over them.
Shepard stepped out. She cocked her rifle up, looking across the field towards him. "Status report, Gunnery Officer."
Her fading battle grin was savage, her gaze focused and predatory. A frisson shivered his spine at the tone of command.
He blinked, checked the radar. "Uh. Yes, ma'am. All clear."
She nodded and turned away, putting two fingers to her ear.
Garrus swung down to the center aisle and crouched beside the YMIR's detached left arm to rehome cartridges. It was a chemical response, his brain supplied automatically. Hadn't happened on a Normandy assignment before, but the sympathetic nervous system fired up in battle. Stress and arousal were identical states. That was why turians fought and fucked before and after high risk operations, like the time he and that recon scout, what's-her-name—
"How about that drink we keep talking about? Once we're discharged. I don't know about you, but it just feels like we've been jumping from one life-or-death scenario to the next. I think it's time we blow off some steam."
"Y'know, last time I tried blowing off steam your way, I ended up in medbay without a kneecap."
"Sounds like a bad situation. You probably need a drink."
Oh, shit.
"Oh, shit," Shepard said. "Bitch gassed the labs. We gotta evacuate Okeer. Let's move, people!"
She hurtled toward the stairs and he fell in, holding his Mattock at guard.
He was going to need a cold shower.