Chapter 17: Onslaught
The humans called it "blitzkrieg," which translated to "lightning war" in one of their languages. Adrien had heard plenty about it throughout the war. The idea was simple: an attacking force would move to break through the enemy's line of defense in short but fast and powerful attacks, which would dislocate and overwhelm the defenders. It was a simple but effective tactic, which Adrien had studied for long hours before his deployment.
But the reports didn't mention the deafening cacophony of howling, slavering monsters, the screams of Turians as they were torn apart by teeth and claws, or just how overwhelming the attack truly was. Already, the Federation's strike had broken through the first line of defense in the city and the defenders were being steadily driven back.
The Nephilim were a truly terrible force. Not only were they strong and durable, they were also hellishly fast, easily able to outpace a Turian running at a full sprint. Moreover, they were completely fearless, charging at Turian lines without any regard for self-preservation. That wasn't to say that they were just mindlessly attacking. They displayed a rudimentary grasp of tactics, utilizing feints and flanking maneuvers to take out the defending soldiers.
Their rapacious advance was supported by the mecha of the Federation, their massive bipedal war machines. Some were hulking mountains of metal that lumbered through the streets with earth-shaking steps, others slim and unnervingly organic in their movements. Even the smallest of these was capable of unleashing terrible destructive fury.
The air was thick with bullets, plasma bolts and missiles, their shrieks joining the feral howls of the Nephilim. The entire battlefield was a picture of absolute confusion and devastation. For Adrien, it was all he could do to keep his wits together. Right now, there was only one objective that mattered: survive.
He jerked away from the swiping claws of a Nephilim, its blow missing his face by scant inches. He responded by giving it a full-auto spray of bullets from his gun right into its ugly countenance. The creature staggered back a stride, red blood dribbling from a ruined jaw, but Adrien had seen more than enough of the things to know that its injury wasn't going to do anything more than piss it off. Even now, he could see the exposed flesh beginning to heal at an alarming rate.
Two more of the things joined the first, roaring their hostility. Siros was plugging away with his assault rifle while Viggo had gone for his grenade launcher. He managed to bring them to a halt with a well-placed round at their feet. They promptly returned the favor with bursts of hypervelocity rounds from their own arm-mounted guns, forcing the Turians to seek cover behind a hunk of concrete that had been dislodged from a building.
"Suppressing fire!" Adrien bellowed into his company's comms. "We need to slow these bastards down or they'll swamp us!"
In true Turian form, his company did as ordered. Overlapping fields of fire streaked out towards the advancing Nephilim, scouring grooves into their armor and drawing blood. A few more enterprising soldiers lobbed grenades at them, sending up clouds of shrapnel and dust as they exploded. Unfortunately, none fell, but the sudden counterattack was enough to make them back off and seek their own cover.
"Use controlled bursts!" Adrien commanded. "Don't let your guns overheat! And watch your sides; if these things manage to flank us, we're done for!"
He didn't really think that it was necessary to remind his troops about all that, but he knew from experience that soldiers fighting in a life-or-death battle functioned better when a superior was keeping their minds focused. And in a battle like this, his troops could not afford to let their concentration lapse for even a moment.
Fortunately, his troops didn't disappoint. With the resolute discipline that had made the Turians famous throughout the galaxy, they maintained their rate of fire, making it essentially a wall of bullets that Adrien was confident would shred anything that poked its head up. Each gun under his command was aimed and focused squarely on the monsters in front of them, keeping them pinned down.
Unfortunately, that was all they were doing. To complicate things further, they couldn't afford to let up, as the hail of bullets was all that kept Adrien and his troops from being overrun. It was a stalemate; the Nephilim couldn't advance with the sheer amount of firepower arrayed against them and Adrien's company couldn't retreat without giving them an opening to attack.
"Sir, there's more of them coming!" Siros shouted. "At least a battalion's worth of the freaks and…" he paused and then his voice became ever more urgent. "Oh, Spirits, they've got mechs with them!"
Sure enough, a fresh wave of Nephilim was pounding their way towards their line. Behind them came a group of three mecha. They were the of the smaller persuasion, ten feet of solid bipedal armor lumbering towards the Turian lines, weapons big enough to be mounted on a tank clutched in oversized metal fists.
Adrien swore under his breath. With the additional reinforcements, his company couldn't hope to hold out. They had to fall back; problem was, if they didn't keep the Nephilim already present pinned down, then they'd be able to strike back themselves. With a haste born of supreme urgency, Adrien began assessing his options. As he did, his eyes suddenly lighted on something that might help.
"Viggo!" Adrien called out. "Do you have any more ammunition in your grenade launcher?"
"Got about five shots left, boss!" he answered. "Antek and Kajus have about three missiles apiece, too. I don't think they'll be very useful in our current situation, though!"
"We'll see about that. Do you see that building over there?" Adrien pointed to a half-demolished tower, possibly a broadcasting station, leaning perilously onto one side, which just so happened to be the side facing the enemy. Viggo, who had served under Adrien long enough to understand his captain's tactics, caught on to the plan immediately.
"It'll be risky, boss," he said, taking aim. "It might fall on us instead of those freaks."
"We're not exactly bursting with options here, Lieutenant. Bring it down!"
Viggo barked a command at his troops and then fired his grenade launcher. An instant later, there was a bright explosion as the round impacted almost directly on the tower's corner, sending up a shower of debris. In short order, two missiles streaked their way towards the same destination and two more fiery blossoms bloomed.
There came a low, cracking sound, audible even through the clamor of battle, and the tower's angle slanted further. It stopped for a brief instant and then, in a dull roar, it pitched over sideways, directly on top of the first line of Nephilim. The impact of hundreds of tons of concrete and metal almost threw Adrien off his feet. Around him, a few Turians let out whoops of triumph.
"HAH!" laughed Viggo in exultation. "How do you like that, you fuckers? Not so tough now, are you?"
Adrien was sorely tempted to join in the cheering, but there was no time. They had bought some time with that ploy, but it wouldn't last long. Now was the time to fall back. A thick cloud of dust filled the air, blotting out everything in front of him; with any luck it would obscure their movements from the enemy and give them precious moments to find a better location to defend.
As it turned out, that was not to be.
It all happened so fast. First, there was a howl that could be heard even over the retorts of the guns, a feral, blood-chilling sound that made the scales on Adrien's neck prickle unpleasantly. Then, a section of wall of a building on the company's right exploded outwards in a shower of jagged shards and something huge and fast came barreling into their ranks like a freight train. Before anyone knew what was happening, the thing snatched up one of Adrien's troops and tore him in half without so much as a hint of effort.
It was a massive thing, standing twelve feet tall fully erect with overlong arms the size of tree trunks and thick, stocky legs. The hands, which had so easily rent apart an armored Turian, were tipped with mechanical claws like knives. Its mouth was a wide cavern of serrated triangular teeth, which gaped wide as it bellowed a challenge, spraying ropes of spittle.
"Fall back!" Adrien shouted. "Fall back!"
His troops needed no second bidding. Almost as one, they spun on their heels and ran. A few took parting shots at the looming monstrosity, but for all the good that did, they might as well have just thrown mud at it. The bullets bounced off its armor with loud pinging sounds with barely a scratch to mark their points of impact.
The massive Nephilim roared again and raised an arm. There was a boomf and then an explosion bloomed into existence right in the middle of a squad of retreating Turians, shredding them to pieces in an instant. Cursing, Adrien flung himself behind the nearest cover he could find and yelled for his company to do the same. Another explosion burst, close enough to his position that he could feel the shockwave of it. Then, his comm system crackled to life.
"Captain, this is Julek," came the veterans lilting voice. Even now, he sounded like he was just calling up Adrien to have a friendly chat. "I'm afraid I've lost sight of you; what is your position?"
"I'm in sector 62-B!" Adrien said in a rush. "We've got a huge Nephilim attacking us and I could really use some help!"
"Yes, I see the thing," Julek replied. There was a brief pause and then he said, "All right Captain, just sit tight."
"Sit tight?" Adrien practically shrieked into his comm. "How can I do that when I have a Spirits-damned monster running around?"
But Julek had apparently cut his communication feed as he received no answer. Adrien let out a wordless snarl of frustration and poked his head out from behind the rubble. The giant Nephilim had stopped firing its weapon and now stalked forward with predatory intent, its heavy footfalls sending small tremors through the ground.
It stomped up to a piece of concrete as big as a small car and smashed it to pieces as if it had been made of plaster, revealing three Turians that had been crouching behind it. They stood in surprise at the monster's sudden appearance, but true to form they reacted to the threat. For all the good it did them, they might as well not have bothered. Their bullets bounced off its armor like pebbles and the Nephilim didn't even seem to notice.
Roaring, it swung one massive arm in an open-handed strike, swatting two of the soldiers away like bothersome insects. It followed up by seizing the last one in an iron grip and promptly bit off everything above the midsection. Adrien had the misfortune to be close enough to the beast to hear the bones crunch and grind in its teeth. It tossed aside the half-eaten cadaver and turned around to seek fresh victims, gobbets of flesh falling from its bloody maw. Adrien squeezed his eyes shut and ducked back behind his cover.
That thing is killing my soldiers! thought Adrien with a mixture of horror and indignant fury. Dammit, what can I do?
Ultimately, his question was a moot point, because at that moment, he heard the distinct great earthshaking steps of the Nephilim coming his way. Before he could do anything, the huge chunk of rubble that hid him was wrenched up into the air and held aloft by the creature. It tossed the chunk aside with an almost casual air and loomed over Adrien like a portent of doom.
"Oh, damn," Adrien said, his voice barely a whisper. He supposed he should be feeling naked terror at the sight before him, but just couldn't muster the will to care. He was about to die, so may as well go out with dignity.
Suddenly, there came the mechanical roar of a high-powered engine and, before Adrien even knew what was happening, the wedge-shaped front of an APC plowed into the towering Nephilim at top speed with a deafening crash. The impact took the creature clean off its feet and drove it headlong into the wall of a nearby building. No sooner had the APC come to a halt when the driver's door opened and none other than Julek Kees hopped out.
"There you are, Captain!" he remarked cheerily, as if he were simply stopping by a friend's home for a chat. He gave Adrien, who stood in dumbfounded astonishment, a cursory once over. "Still in one piece, I see. Looks like I was just in the nick of time."
"You…you just…" Adrien stammered, pointing vaguely at APC. Julek nodded modestly.
"Yes, a tad overdone, but you have to give me credit for a dramatic entrance. I would have preferred a tank or something with some real firepower, but you can't always get what you want." He shrugged.
There came a metallic creaking sound and Adrien looked back over at the APC. To his supreme dismay, the hulking Nephilim was not dead, but merely trapped by the massive armored vehicle and, if the thunderous growls it emitted were any indication, it was absolutely livid. It clawed furiously at the APC's metal surface, trying to find purchase enough to lever the obstruction off itself, its efforts causing the multi-ton vehicle to rock alarmingly. Julek noticed this too and let out a disappointed sigh.
"Well, I suppose it was too much to hope that would be enough to kill that thing. The big ones are always so stubborn." He turned back to Adrien. "I suggest we make ourselves scarce. The brute is going to get out at some point and, last I checked, we had another wave incoming."
There was no need to be told twice.
#
It didn't take a strategic genius to see that the situation in Coryza was hopeless; when the second wave hit, whatever opposition the defenders had managed to put up crumbled and a general retreat was sounded. A few units were unable to withdraw and instead chose to hold their positions to their dying breath. A heroic gesture, but the Nephilim cared nothing for heroic last stands, and these pockets of resistance were swiftly overwhelmed and destroyed without so much as a nod of acknowledgment.
Outnumbered and outgunned, the surviving Turians from Coryza regrouped in Carista, fully expecting the attack to come down on them like a tidal wave. But, to their surprise, the Federation halted its advance and kept on the outskirts of the city. This sudden change of events caused much confusion among the rank and file, who were all wondering why they had stopped. With the sheer momentum they had displayed, the Federation could have at the very least taken the outer districts of the city. Though confused, the Turians didn't question this apparent windfall given to them and a sense of relief permeated the ranks.
But not long after, they found out why the enemy's advance had stopped, and their relief would swiftly turn to dismay.
#
Adrien was not ashamed to admit that he was exhausted. After at least a dozen near-death experiences, coupled with the mad dash away to the relative safety of Carista, Adrien was practically dead on his feet. Right now, all he wanted was to find a flat patch of ground, curl up on it, armor and all, and sleep for a week.
But that would have to wait. Colonel Tarkin had called for a meeting of all the surviving officers regarding their situation. So, for the time being, Adrien was going to have to tough it out.
He looked around the room at the other officers. He noted that there were several faces missing since the last meeting from both veterans and new arrivals. The latter group now looked almost as disheveled as the former and no longer held themselves with lofty superiority. Instead, they stood almost listlessly, eyes bloodshot and frightened. Adrien wondered how he looked; probably not much better.
Ferox, to his surprise, had managed to survive, though judging by the fact that his armor now bore more than a few deep gashes, it had been a close thing. Whatever patron Spirit he had watching over him, it was clearly working hard. He looked thoroughly ill-tempered, though from what Adrien had seen of him, that wasn't much of a difference to his usual demeanor.
Colonel Tarkin stood in their midst, his half-blind gaze sweeping over the gathered officers. He looked as if he had aged a hundred years; his grizzled features were haggard and forlorn, his fringe noticeably drooping. In front of him was a flat holo-display, marking out the geography of the three cities that bulwarked the Kassar Pass and a fair amount of the surrounding landscape.
"Soldiers," Tarkin began, "I'm sure you've all been wondering why the Federation hasn't been trying to put an end to us for good and all. Well, here's why."
He tapped a few keys on the projector and a pool of red flooded the display. The pool continued to spread across the holographic image for another few moments until it stopped. A chill ran up Adrien's spine as he saw the new image.
Carista and Palonia had been encircled by the enemy's front. On three sides of the map, a wall of red imprisoned the two cities while the winding shape of a river snaked behind them. Sounds of shocked dismay filled the room as the other officers came to the same realization. Even Ferox had enough sense to stop scowling and look, if not worried, then at least put off.
"I see you've all grasped the situation here," Tarkin said gravely. "The Hueys have us boxed in good. Near as we can tell, they've got about a million or so troops set up around both cities, complete with artillery batteries and other nasty shit. Behind us is the Braxa River which, for those of you unfamiliar with the local geography, just so happens to be the widest and deepest river on all of Digeris."
Anxious murmurings began to circulate around the room as Tarkin's words sank in. For Turians, any interaction with a sufficiently deep body of water involved a good deal of floundering, screaming and drowning. Exactly in that order. Going by what the colonel described of the Braxa, it might as well have been a solid wall.
"So what can we do?" one of the officers asked in a trembling voice.
"In all honesty, not a lot," said Tarkin. "If we try to do anything aggressive, the apes will just blow us to hell and we can't fall back to our northern army group because of the Braxa. So, our only real option is to hunker down and weather the storm." He glanced around the room. "But if anyone has an idea, then by all means share it with the rest of us."
No one did and Tarkin let out a humorless laugh.
"Didn't think so." He let out a sigh and shut off the hologram. "Well, that's all for now. See to your troops, get some food or sleep or whatever else you want. Stay alert; the Nefs might send some probing attacks our way to check on us. Dismissed."
The officers began to file out of the room in a listless shuffle. Julek glanced up at Adrien, giving the taller Turian the full benefit of his ever-present smirk, obviously unperturbed at the whole thing. Not for the first time, Adrien suspected that Julek honestly didn't care if he lived or died.
"Well, that was a rather gloomy meeting," remarked Julek, the statement at complete odds with the jovial expression on his face. "I don't know about you, but I feel like getting something to eat. Maybe we'll get lucky and the ration packs will be something edible. Coming, Captain?"
Adrien shrugged. "Why not?"
They turned to follow their fellow officers, when Tarkin's voice reached them.
"Captain Victus, I'd like a private word with you."
Adrien looked at Julek, who merely gave him an "I don't know" look and strutted out the door without a backwards glance. Soon, Adrien was all alone with the colonel. Straitening himself up to his full height, Adrien turned to face him.
"Yes sir?" he asked in a voice that betrayed his confusion and apprehension.
Tarkin gave him an amused look. "At ease, Captain; I'm not going to bite your head off."
Adrien sagged a little in relief. "Sorry, sir, but past experience has taught me that, anytime a superior officer calls me over for a talk, it means that they are very unhappy with me."
"Well, I can assure you Victus, I'm not unhappy with you; just the opposite, in fact."
Tarkin gestured to a nearby chair, and Adrien promptly sat down, waiting expectantly. The colonel crossed his arms behind his back and favored Adrien with an appraising look, something that was eerily reminiscent of Julek's scrutiny when they first met.
"Before the assault, I had a chance to go over your files in more detail," Tarkin finally said. "What stood out to me most were your combat accolades. Do you know why?"
"No, sir" said Adrien, at a loss as to where the colonel was going with this.
"Because, it wasn't that you fought in these deployments, it was how you fought," said Tarkin. "One such example was your conduct during the Valtis Revolt."
The Valtis Revolt, as it was called, had been a particularly ugly episode in Oma Ker's recent history. A cult calling itself the Scions of Valtis had sprung into existence roughly a decade ago, led by a Turian by the name of Sarjon Grith. He claimed that he had been contacted by a Titan named Valtis who had demanded that he consecrate the planet in his name. It was a load of complete trash, of course, but he still managed to sway a great many Turians to his side. At the height of his power, Sarjon held sway over half of the main continent and demanded that the Hierarchy acknowledge the planet as an independent nation.
The Hierarchy, naturally, did not acknowledge any such claim of legitimacy and promptly declared war on his mini-empire. After almost two years of bitter fighting, the power of the Scions was broken and Sarjon himself was executed as a traitor. Several of the commanding officers of that campaign had considered it a decent little war. Adrien, who had been part of those in the thick of things, would have argued otherwise. Short though it was, it was more than enough time to see some very ugly things.
Returning himself to the present, Adrien asked, "What about that, sir?"
Tarkin tapped a few keys on his omni-tool and brought up a display of the file in question, beginning to read it as soon as it flickered into existence.
"During the assault on the city of Tras, your unit was faced with an oncoming enemy force that badly outnumbered you. Rather than falling back and set up ambushes as per standard procedure, you lured them over a sewer system that you and your troops had rigged with explosive charges and collapsed it underneath them. While they were still wondering what happened, you ordered your platoon to open fire on them from above." He paused to look at Adrien.
"Almost six hundred rebels were killed and your platoon only suffered three wounded." He barked out a laugh. "No wonder the higher-ups didn't want to promote you; stunts like that would have them frothing in rage."
Adrien wasn't sure if Tarkin was insulting him or praising him. He didn't seem angry or even displeased at his actions like so many other officers would have been, so Adrien suspected it was the latter. But if that was true, then the colonel was certainly going about it in an odd way. In either case, Adrien decided that the best course was to be humble.
"I was just trying to do my duty to the best of my abilities," he said, making an effort to sound extra modest.
"No doubt," said Tarkin. "But that's my point: unlike most other Turians, you can think outside the box. Nobody I know would have thought of something like that! It would have been standard procedures all the way, and without a shred of ingenuity."
Apprehension suddenly sank its talons into Adrien's core. The colonel was going somewhere with this conversation, and he had a feeling that he wasn't going to like where it ended.
"Um…sir, forgive me for sounding impertinent, but is there a point to this?"
Tarkin gave Adrien the full benefit of his half-blind stare. "I wasn't exaggerating earlier, Captain. The situation we're in right now is a bad deal, as bad as you can get. I've gone over every bit of tactical information we've got and as far as I can see, this ends in only one of two ways for us: either we surrender to the Federation, or we get wiped out. That's it."
"So what does that have to do with me, Colonel?" asked Adrien. An instant later, realization, stark and terrible, burst its way into his mind. "You…sir, you don't think that I can do anything to help?"
Tarkin shrugged. "I don't know. But I would like you to try. Like I said, I don't see any way out of our predicament, but maybe you will."
Before Adrien could say anything, Tarkin began tapping keys on his omni-tool with an almost furious intensity. A second later, Adrien's own omni-tool chimed and brought up a small holographic display.
"I've sent you all current and relative information concerning our situation," said Tarkin. "Maps, topographical charts, enemy unit positions, the works; go over them whenever you have the chance and let me know if you come up with anything."
"But—"
"Captain, do I have to make that an order?" The colonel's tone had taken on a hard edge, and, though he did an admirable job of hiding it, Adrien could hear the desperation underneath. He swallowed and slowly shook his head.
"No sir."
#
Irony could be very cruel, Adrien reflected as he walked out of the room. Throughout his years in the military, he had desired recognition for his accomplishments, craving it like an addict craves his fix. Well, now he had it and Adrien found himself wishing he had remained in the background.
Tarkin was asking him to perform a miracle. There wasn't anything else to call it. The colonel had looked over all the information and decided that he couldn't do anything, leaving Adrien to find a way to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. He, a mere captain, was tasked with accomplishing an operation that should have an entire staff of generals working on it. The whole situation was so outlandish that Adrien almost wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all. Almost.
Adrien proceeded towards the area where he had stationed his troops. They had already set themselves up, each trooper with their own personal space to call their own. As he approached, his lieutenants caught sight of him and moved up to greet their captain.
"There you are sir," Siros said in his typical cool manner. "Where have you been?"
"Oh, the colonel just wanted a word with me," Adrien answered. The two Turians adopted downcast expressions at that. Superior officers wanting a word with their captain never spelled anything good.
"Don't tell me he gave you shit about not following the rulebook," Viggo said darkly. "Didn't he say you could use it for toilet paper for all that he cared?"
Adrien held up a placating hand. "No, he didn't berate me for being unorthodox or anything like that. In fact, he was actively praising me for it."
Both lieutenants blinked in surprise at the unexpected windfall. Viggo recovered first, and gave Adrien's shoulder a hearty clap.
"Well, good for you, boss! It's about time you got some respect from the brass!"
"To be honest, this is probably the only time I wouldn't mind being thought less of," said Adrien sourly. "I take it you're all aware of what our situation is like?"
Siros nodded. "Unfortunately. We've got the Federation on three sides and a big body of water behind us. Not exactly a tenable position, I'd say."
"That about sums it up," Adrien agreed. "And apparently, Tarkin thinks that I'm the only one who can possibly get us out of it."
Siros and Viggo burst out laughing, no doubt thinking that Adrien was just having fun with them. They quickly stopped laughing once they saw the dour look on his face.
"Wait, you're serious sir?" asked Siros.
"As serious as an eezo core meltdown," confirmed Adrien. "He handed over all the tactical information we have and told me straight up that he essentially wanted me to come up some way to turn this whole thing around."
Viggo let out a low whistle. "Damn. Talk about pressure."
"No kidding," grumbled Adrien. He made a dismissing gesture. "But that's for later. Right now, I've got other things to do."
His first item on his mental to-do list was catching some sleep, but at that moment, his stomach decided to push itself to the front of the line by letting out a loud rumble. A few heads turned his way to see what had made the sound and Adrien coughed awkwardly.
"Well, like my mother always said, you can't do anything worthwhile on an empty stomach. Anyone else up to get some food?"
#
Adrien sat on his cot and stretched out with a comfortable sigh. It wasn't anything special, just a long strip of fabric stretched taught across four metal legs, but after the day's ordeal, it was like a memory-foam mattress for his tired, aching body. As an added bonus, as an officer, he was entitled to his own private quarters. Granted, it was hardly a five-star hotel room, but it had four walls, some basic furniture for his use and, of course, the aforementioned cot. All he needed was a frosty cold beer to complete the picture, but like so many other luxury items, there wasn't any to be found here.
The MRE he had snagged from the Quartermaster's stores had been a welcome bit of comfort, though. Its contents had consisted of a meat stew, some water crackers with a protein-rich spread made from some kind of fish, a packet of drink mix, and a bag of dried berries for dessert. It had actually been a decent meal, thank the Spirits. Now pleasantly full, Adrien called up his omni-tool's display to get some work done.
The first order of business was to go over the butcher's bill. It was a depressing list. His company, previously numbering an even eighty soldiers, was now only a little over than half that. Twenty-two confirmed dead with another dozen missing, though Adrien doubted that the latter were still alive; most likely, they were little more than piles of chewed-up meat.
One name in particular stuck out in the list. Private Torrik, a recruit fresh out of boot camp at the tender age of seventeen. Adrien hadn't known the kid for very long, having only received him a few months ago, but he'd quickly made himself at home with his company. He had served as an engineer for the unit and had expressed a desire to get a job in one of the big tech companies in the Hierarchy. He'd certainly possessed the talent, but now no one would ever know.
Poor kid, thought Adrien somberly, gone from this world before his fringe had even finished growing.
He collapsed the display with a sharp swipe of his talon, deciding that he'd deal with that when he wasn't in such a dark mood. Instead, he called up another display, this one detailing the some of the tactical information Tarkin had given him, and began to study it.
The situation really was as bad as the colonel had described. Whatever you could say about the humans, they knew how to wage war. They had Carista and Palonia sealed in tight as a drum, with no gaps in the ranks that could be taken advantage of. The river behind them offered nothing either; the narrowest section that the Turians could access was easily twenty miles wide. Crossing that would be a serious undertaking, big enough that the Federation could not possibly miss it. As it was, the deck was stacked very much in favor of the NEF.
Adrien let out a deep yawn. The physical exertion of the day, coupled with the heavy meal he had just eaten, made his weariness overpowering. There was no way he was going to make anything out of all this right now. He shut off his omni-tool and rolled over onto his back; sleep first, figure out how to save everyone's hides later.
He had only just closed his eyes when a strange noise whispered through the air. It was a faint thumping sound, like someone had dropped a bag of laundry just in behind his door. Adrien's eyes snapped open, but he did not move a muscle. His ears strained to hear any other sounds, body rigid as a plank of wood.
A face appeared in his doorway.
The door itself had not opened. The face had quite literally appeared in its center, like someone had just hung up an obscene decoration there. A gruesome, angular, horrifically unnatural visage, it stared around the room with six red eyes, taking in the room with a cold and calculating gaze. There was no mouth, or at least not one that could be seen, and a pair of finlike protrusions arced up from either side of the head.
It took all of Adrien's willpower to not leap out of his cot and start screaming bloody murder. Instead, he very slowly inched his hand down towards his sidearm. He kept his eyes open just enough to keep the face in his sights and hopefully not alert the owner of that face to the fact that he was awake.
The face continued to study the room for a long moment. Then, apparently satisfied with what it saw, the rest of the thing came in. It passed through the metal door as if it were water, seeming to ripple as it stepped into Adrien's quarters, giving him the full benefit of its appearance.
The being stood a little over seven feet tall and twice as broad as Adrien was. It was the picture of something that had been tossed into a body of water and left to decay. Its skin was a sickly blue-gray hue, spotted with dark, cancerous-looking blemishes. The head that had previously been staring into the room seemed to be directly connected to the shoulders, which protruded out into sharp, bony points.
The urge to shriek in terror came surging back, threatening to overwhelm his discipline. Adrien only barely managed to keep it in check and continued to reach for the pistol strapped to his belt, taking care not to make his movements noticeable.
The creature's six eyes all locked onto him. This was no slavering animal come to visit; this thing was possessed of true intelligence, cold and predatory. Then, with slow, deliberate steps, it began to walk towards Adrien. So quiet was its approach that he knew that, if he had been asleep, he would not have heard it coming. Thus, despite having some monster in his room, doubtless intending to kill him where he was lying, Adrien counted himself very lucky.
His hand wrapped around the hilt of his pistol, the hard metal of the weapon lending him some small measure of reassurance. Urging himself to not immediately draw it and open fire with wild abandon, Adrien waited for the right moment. The creature, seeming not to have noticed his movements, stalked closer, unhurried and calm.
Not yet, he thought. Not yet. Just a little closer.
Finally, after an agonizing several seconds, the creature was only a few of its long strides away from him. It was then that Adrien made his move. Quick as a striking grass-viper, he sat up and whipped his sidearm from his belt, bringing it around to aim at the creature's center mass, finger ready to pull the trigger.
But it was faster.
It crossed the remaining distance in a blur of motion and caught Adrien's wrist in one huge hand before he could fire. With casual ease, the creature wrenched his arm out to his side until his shoulder screamed in pain. The other hand shot out and wrapped around his throat, cutting off the bellow he had been about to let loose, so that the only sound that came out of his mouth was a soft choking sound. It was so cold that it burned his skin and he could almost imagine the black spots of frostbite blossoming into existence under the frigid appendage.
The monster hauled Adrien off of his cot, exerting no more effort than he would in lifting a beer bottle. They were now face to face, his feet dangling a foot off the ground. The grip around his throat was just relaxed enough to allow him to breathe, but little else.
"Pretty good," the thing said, even though it had no discernable mouth, "but not good enough."
The voice was like cracking ice, harsh and murderously cold for all its hushed tones. It sounded feminine, but Adrien had no real way to tell if it actually was. Plus, he had more pressing concerns to worry about; literally, in the case of his neck. One sharp twist and he'd be introducing himself to the Spirits.
The creature glanced down at the pistol still clutched in Adrien's hand. Slowly, it bent his wrist backwards until the gun fell from his grasp and onto the cot, where it landed with barely a sound.
"That's better. We wouldn't want to start a ruckus, now would we?"
"Fuck you," Adrien snarled. Or rather he tried to; it came out sounding something like "Fulg'oo." It wasn't exactly the defiant attitude he was going for.
"Not a very articulate little bird, are you?" The creature commented derisively.
With words having failed him, Adrien decided to respond physically. With his free hand, Adrien grabbed hold of the thick wrist, ignoring the sharp stabs of cold, and heaved a leg up to kick out at his captor. His foot landed with a solid thump in its midsection, but for all the good it did, he might as well have been kicking a wall. The creature took the blow without so much as a flinch, and chuckled in amusement.
"Sorry turkey, but you're going to have to hit a lot harder than that if you want to hurt me," it said. "Anyway, I've already wasted enough time as it is. I'd ask if you have any last words, but to be honest, I don't really care." The grip on Adrien's neck shifted slightly, angling in preparation for a quick and brutal snap. "Goodnight, little bird."
Just then, there came the sound of the door being opened, and the creature's head whipped around to peer at it. Viggo stood in the doorway, his big frame sagging slightly with evident fatigue; no doubt he had just woken up from a deep sleep. He yawned and gazed into the room with bleary eyes.
"Boss, you okay? I thought I heard—"
Viggo stopped midsentence as the scene before him registered in his mind. He gaped in blank shock at the creature, then at Adrien who was held aloft by his throat, but he quickly recovered. In one fluid motion, he drew his assault rifle, which he had thankfully had the foresight to bring along, and aimed it at the creature's back, all trace of sleep gone.
Before he could pull the trigger, the creature pivoted to face the big Turian. Adrien gurgled unhappily as the hand around his throat shifted to get a better grip. The thing held him out in front like a shield and growled, "Don't even think about it."
"Let him go, you freak," Viggo growled back. Adrien could see his trigger finger tremble as his lieutenant fought to give in to the instincts that were no doubt screaming at him to terminate the threat before him. "Or I'll give the walls a nice coating of your brains."
"Ooh, I'm so scared." Adrien could hear the contemptuous sneer in its tone. "Shoot until you run empty, but you won't kill me with that little toy."
"Then why are you hiding behind him, huh?" Viggo asked, gesturing with his head at Adrien. "If you're so tough, why don't you come and face me Turian to monster?"
"Oh, I will. But I'll kill this one first."
The grip on Adrien's throat tightened a fraction, eliciting a strangled croak from him. He tried to order Viggo to forget about him and just shoot the damn thing, but it was no good; the best he could do was splutter out some wet gibberish. He was going to have to get himself out of this mess, or else he was a dead Turian.
His options were sorely limited, however. He was still hovering well above the ground in the monster's clutches, so he couldn't exert any leverage there (not that he thought it would have done him any good even if he could), and one arm was trapped in its other hand, which had been wrenched behind his back. All he really had was one free hand and his wits.
He was going to have to think quickly. The only reason that this monster hadn't torn both of them to prime cuts was that it didn't want a commotion to spoil things, he knew, but the standoff wasn't going to last forever. As he was racking his brain for ideas, his eyes lighted on the small mirror in the corner of his room. In it, he could clearly see both his and the monster's reflections; it held him close enough so that its chest was almost touching his back and its head was only a little further above his own.
In that moment, a crazy idea hit Adrien. He carefully scrutinized their reflections and made some rough calculations in his head. The creature, its attention fixed squarely on Viggo, was oblivious to its captive's scheming. A few seconds later, Adrien sucked in a breath through his nose, steeling himself for what he was about to do.
Quick as a flash, Adrien threw his free arm up towards the creature's head, aiming his thumb at one of its eyes. The digit sank into the red orb with a wet squelching sound and Adrien didn't stop pushing until he felt the palm of his hand touching cold flesh.
The creature might have taken Adrien's kick without trouble, but its eyes were apparently just as much of a weak spot as it was for everyone else. It let out a cry of agony and let go of him. Adrien tumbled to the ground in an undignified heap, throat burning and lungs heaving.
No sooner had he hit the floor when Viggo opened up with his gun. Burst of hypervelocity rounds slammed into the creature, leaving bloody holes where they struck. Adrien let out a stream of ragged coughs and lurched away from the wounded monster towards Viggo, who kept on firing. He had just reached the door when he noticed that there was something soft and sticky clinging to his thumb. Looking down, he saw that the eye that he gouged was stuck there, pierced clean through like a cocktail garnish.
Yuck, thought Adrien as he pulled the eyeball off and flung it away.
The sudden silence that filled the area signified that Viggo had stopped firing. Bending down, he grabbed hold of Adrien under his arms and helped him back to his feet.
"You all right, boss?" he asked anxiously.
Adrien rubbed at his throat, wincing slightly. "I won't be singing any time soon, but other than that, I think I'm fine."
Adrien looked over to where the creature had been. He found it slumped down against the far wall, limbs sprawled and a mess of ruined flesh where its chest had been. The six-eyed, mouthless head lolled forward, almost touching the bloody wound. Viggo slowly crept towards it, gun trained on the still form. He prodded one of its arms with the barrel; it flopped limply. Nothing had ever looked deader, but Viggo still put another round in its head just to be sure.
"Looks like you weren't as tough as you thought," he sneered. He gave the body a sharp kick for good measure.
The sound of tramping feet filled the corridor and Adrien turned to see Siros leading a squad of troops at double-pace. Obviously, he had heard the commotion and had wasted no time in preparing a response team to investigate, even though it was clear at a glance that he was bone-weary and running on fumes. Adrien made a mental note to put him and Viggo in for a commendation at the earliest opportunity.
"Sir!" Siros said breathlessly as he skidded to a halt in front of his captain. "I heard gunfire! What's happening?"
"Relax, Siros," said Viggo before Adrien could answer. "The boss had an unwelcome guest visit him, but I took care of it." He sounded supremely proud of himself; no doubt he'd be regaling the company of his heroics for days to come. Considering his actions had saved his life, Adrien was content to let him have his moment.
Siros looked up at the big Turian and squinted dubiously at him. "Really? All by yourself?"
Viggo nodded towards the door. "Take a look. The thing's dead as a Salarian's sex drive."
Siros walked over to the door and cautiously poked his head in for a look. Adrien was just beginning to feel the first sensations of relief flow through him, when the First Lieutenant spoke.
"Um…what thing?"
Adrien felt a cold pit starting to form in his stomach. He lurched back over to the doorway and Siros moved aside for him. The cold pit suddenly doubled in size as Adrien looked into his quarters.
There was no body. In fact, save for some splatters of reddish fluid, which Adrien assumed to be blood, no trace of the creature that had attacked him could be found. He stood there, numb with horror, eyes unblinking. Viggo moved up beside him, bearing a similar expression.
"That's…that's not possible!" he protested, voice gaining an octave. "I blew its fucking chest out! I even put a round in its head!"
"At this point, I've just started assuming that anything less than total obliteration won't kill these things," Adrien grumbled darkly.
"Where the hell did it even go? The only way in is through this door!" Viggo's head darted left and right, as though expecting the creature to be hiding in one of the corners.
"It can walk through walls. That's how it got in in the first place." Adrien went in and retrieved his own gun, which had remained where it was next to his cot. He wasn't about to go into whatever came next unarmed. Feeling considerably more comfortable now that he was once more fully armed, he began snapping out orders.
Suddenly, he and the gathered troops were enveloped in a thick gray fog.
There was no warning. One moment, the air around them was clear as could be, the next, you could barely see three feet in front of you. It swirled about them, clinging to their bodies as if it were somehow possessed of a will of its own. And dear Spirits, the smell of it! It was as if every foul odor in existence had been compiled into the haze; the fetid scents of pus, excrement, rotting meat and things that defied description were all there, filling Adrien's nostrils, stinging his eyes, burning as it went into his lungs. He gagged and retched, feeling as if he would be sick.
His troops fared no better. Most were bent double, hacking and choking on the miasma that surrounded them. Two of them lost their last meal, spewing puddles of vomit onto the floor, which only seemed to make the fog's noxious reek even worse.
Then, the creature struck.
It came seemingly out of nowhere and laid into the incapacitated Turians with the methodical precision of a trained killer. One soldier died instantly as its big hands snapped his neck with a sharp twist. Before his body had even hit the floor, it had moved on to the next, slapping his gun out of his hands and dealing him a series of short but powerful punches to the soldier's torso before finishing him off with a kick that caved in his armor and sent him flying a good ten feet down the hall. Then it disappeared back into the fog.
Some of the remaining squad recovered enough to let off a few bursts with their weapons, but their shots went wild. Worse, blinded as they were by the haze, their efforts posed more of a risk to each other than the creature.
"Stop firing!" Adrien managed to gasp out, eyes watering like broken faucets as he tried to peer through the miasma. Unfortunately, his voice had gone hoarse from exposure to the fog and the blare of gunfire ensured that his troops couldn't hear him.
Again, the creature blindsided them, pulling two deeper into the fog where they were lost from sight. Their screams of dismay were cut off almost instantly and the monster leapt out into full view. The remaining soldier drew his gun level at it, but the thing grabbed the gun's barrel and forced it upwards, where it fired uselessly into the ceiling.
Once the guns exhaust vents hissed open, signifying it had overheated, the thing almost delicately pushed a finger into his forehead. The digit did not pierce the skull, but rather phased through it, much as it had when the thing literally walked through the closed door of Adrien's quarters. The soldier suddenly convulsed violently and went limp; he slumped down to the floor like a boned fish, clearly dead, but completely unmarked. The only evidence of damage was the twin streams of blue blood that flowed out from his nose.
The creature turned to face Adrien with aloof grace. There was no trace of the injuries Viggo had given it, and the eye he gouged out had grown back. The sheer power of its regeneration was nothing short of insane. The apparent immortality of the creature was perhaps even more terrifying than its otherworldly abilities. Nevertheless, Adrien raised his gun, ready to defend himself.
The creature cocked its head in an incredulous gesture. "Seriously? Didn't we just establish that's not going to help?"
"Maybe," said Adrien, trying not to let the fear show in his voice. "But if there's one thing I've learned in the military, it's that anything can die if you shoot it enough times." He tapped a talon against his AR's stock. "These things are good for thousands of rounds; I can go all day if I want."
"Too bad you don't have that long."
With that, the creature came at Adrien. He managed to get a few shots off, which hit it in its center mass, but the creature ignored them and struck out with a punch aimed at his head. Adrien managed to avoid the blow by scant inches and it slammed into the wall. The creature pulled its fist from the wall, leaving behind an indentation with an almost perfect imprint of its knuckles.
That would have hurt, thought Adrien soberly. He took several rapid steps back, putting as much distance as he could between himself and his attacker. Getting stuck in close-quarters with it would end badly for him; his only option for survival was to keep out of reach and keep shooting until the thing died or gave up.
Unfortunately, the creature didn't give him the chance. Moving with blinding speed, it once again closed the distance between them. Adrien had no time to get off even a single burst before it grabbed hold of the gun and wrenched from his grasp. Then, for good measure, it drew its arm back and smashed the gun against the wall, breaking it in half with a loud crash of metal on metal.
"Oops. It broke," the thing taunted, tossing aside the ruined weapon. "Looks like you're all out of options."
Before Adrien could do anything, the thing caught him square in the face with a vicious jab. Pain exploded behind his eyes, actually blinding him with its intensity. The force of the blow, while thankfully not enough to kill him outright, still sent him sprawling backwards several paces, where he collapsed in a stunned heap.
Adrien groaned with pain, trying to force his eyes back into focus. The blindness had faded, but now it looked to him as if there was now two of everything. The monster calmly strode over to him, looming in a way that could only be described as triumphant. It raised a fist in preparation for dealing the killing blow. Incapacitated by pain as he was, Adrien had no hope of evading it.
Then, there came the sharp retort of gunfire and the creature staggered forwards a step. Through still-distorted vision, Adrien saw Viggo, gun raised in preparation to fire another burst. Siros was by his side, eyes bulging in their sockets from nerves and adrenaline.
"Hey ugly!" Viggo called. "Did you forget about me?"
The creature, apparently no longer in the mood for witty banter, snarled and turned to face the two Turians, seeming to forget about Adrien, who was still laid out on the floor and only just beginning to get his wind back. It crouched on all fours and leapt onto the far wall, where it clung like some monstrous insect. Without missing a beat, it scurried across the metal surface, nimble and quick as a lizard.
The sudden and unexpected maneuver caught Viggo and Siros off guard. Though they swiftly recovered their wits, it was too late to do anything. The creature landed in front of them and immediately lashed out with a vicious back fist aimed at Siros. He ducked, but not fast enough; the blow clipped him on the side of his head, sending him spinning towards the wall, where he hit with a loud crack of bone and chitin against metal. He slumped to the ground with a soft moan of pain.
With Siros no longer a factor, the monster turned towards Viggo, who attempted to get another shot off. While he succeeded, it ultimately did no good, for the thing simply batted the barrel aside, causing the burst to miss it completely. Just as it had with Adrien, the creature seized hold of the gun and pulled it out of Viggo's grasp. It took hold of either end of the weapon and, with a small grunt of effort, bent it at an angle.
Though disarmed, Viggo was not about to give up. Balling his hands into fists he lashed out at his attacker's head with a pair of solid hook punches. Adrien had seen him knock out other Turians with just one of those hits, but the creature shrugged them off. It countered with a punch of its own: a savage uppercut dealt dead center to Viggo's stomach.
The big Turian's eyes bulged in their sockets and let out a soft, wheezing groan. Clutching his stomach, he sank to his knees, long, thin strings of saliva spilling from between his mandibles. As he knelt there, the creature wrapped one of its clawed hands around the top of his head and forced him to look up at it.
"You fought very well," it said, voice tinged with grudging respect. "I hope that your Spirits welcome you into their fold." With that, the creature tilted Viggo's head to the side and raised one hand in preparation for a knife-strike to the carotid artery. It would be a near-instant kill.
The sight of Viggo, his doggedly loyal lieutenant, about to die galvanized Adrien into action. Ignoring the pain that pulsed in his face, he staggered to his feet and broke into a loping run straight at the creature. What he did next was something that, if he had a clear head, he might have thought twice on. Not that that would have stopped him in any case.
With a battle cry, Adrien leapt onto the creature's back, wrapping his legs around its torso and his arms around its neck in a perfect headlock. Caught by surprise, the thing stumbled backwards as Adrien's attack forced it off balance. He snarled like a wild varren and squeezed his arms with all his strength, trying desperately to force the thing into unconsciousness. The logical part of his mind told him that he was doing an unbelievably stupid move, but the primal side of him was in control and it had no time for common sense.
But, for all his determination and ferocity, his efforts were ultimately in vain. The creature swiftly recovered its balance and stood straight, unbothered by the Turian on its back. It let out a sigh of annoyance and, before Adrien knew what was happening, his limbs suddenly phased through its body. He frantically tried to regain his grip, but it was like trying to grapple with water and he landed back onto the floor.
In one smooth, fluid motion, the monster whirled around and dealt Adrien a brutal kick to his chest, sending him tumbling head over spurs. Fortunately his armor, both natural and military-issue, prevented the blow from caving in his ribcage. It did still knock the wind out of him for the second time.
Adrien came to rest on his face, dizzy and feeling as though someone had taken a sledgehammer to his chest. He weakly raised his head, watching as the creature casually walked over to him. It stared down at him for a moment, its featureless face seeming to crease with some sort of emotion. Then, it pulled back a fist, aiming it his head.
Adrien had no way to dodge it. He still could barely breathe and his limbs felt heavy as steel bars. All he could do was look up at the thing and glare his defiance as he prepared for the blow that would end his life.
Just as the fist was beginning to descend, the creature halted the motion. Its head cocked to the side, as if it were listening to something. It stayed like that for a moment before straightening up, no longer poised to kill.
"You are a very lucky little Turian," it said, favoring him with what Adrien guessed was an amused look. "We're finished here. Looks like you and your friends back there get to live a little longer."
"W…what are you…talking about?" Adrien managed to croak.
The creature's eyes smiled. "Oh trust me, you'll know soon enough."
Without another word, it stepped over Adrien's prone form and strode away through the passage where it had doubtless come before. Almost as soon as it had left, there came the sound of hurried footsteps. Moments later, the rest of Adrien's company ran into view in full kit and dress, even though they were too later to matter. In spite of it all, Adrien felt quite proud that his troops were functioning so well.
Gasps of horror came from several of them as they saw the dead bodies of the squad Siros had brought with him, but like good soldiers, they didn't let that distract them. Two of them rushed over to Adrien, helping him into a sitting position and looking him over.
"Captain, are you all right?" the one on his left asked.
Oh, sure I'm all right, Adrien thought harshly. I got my ass kicked all over the place like a clawball by one of the Federation's monsters, I probably have a concussion, but I'm just fine and dandy. Outwardly, he said, "I took a few good lumps, but I'm pretty sure I'll live. Help me up."
The troopers obliged and slung his arms over their shoulders. It took a little effort, but they soon had him standing and to his surprise, Adrien was able to support most of his weight by himself. He directed them towards Siros and Viggo who, Adrien was glad to see, were getting looked over by the company's med-personnel. Viggo was now resting his back against the wall and Siros was just starting to come around back into consciousness.
"How are you doing?" Adrien asked Siros. The First Lieutenant gave him a weak smile.
"Did anyone get the license of that car?" he asked in a slightly slurred voice. Adrien chuckled, and then turned his attention to Viggo. "What about you, big guy?"
"I feel like a Krogan just jumped on me, but other than that, I'm good." He let out a low groan as he shifted position. "Or at least I will be once I get my second wind." He glanced up at his captain, confusion etched in his face.
"Boss, why did that thing just up and leave? It had us dead to rights, so why wouldn't it finish the job?"
"I don't know," answered Adrien, "but I don't think—"
BOOM!
The area shook with the impact of what felt like a titan's footfall. Turians staggered about, leaning against the walls and each other for support. Adrien was torn free of the two troopers that held him and he fell onto his still-smarting face, sending a fresh wave of pain coursing through him. Even so, he was coherent enough to realize what had just happened. There was no mistaking the deafening roar of military-grade explosives going off.
As his company exchanged frantic glances and expletives, the creature's words came back to Adrien and a cold pit formed in his stomach.
"You'll know soon enough."
#
Barely an hour after the explosion, Tarkin called an emergency meeting. As it turned out, Adrien was not the only one who had gotten a late-night visit from one of the Federation's monsters. Several ranking officers and scores of other soldiers had been killed in what had obviously been a stealth attack, quite brutally in many cases; the exact number was still unknown, but it was not going to be a small.
But that was only the half of it. The blast that had rocked the bunker had been from several bombs that had been placed in the supply depots, specifically the rations and other essential necessities. It was a terrible blow, but in spite of it all, Adrien could not help but be impressed by the whole thing. Looking at it from a tactical standpoint, it was damnably sound; the Federation had hammered the defenders mercilessly and then allowed the survivors to hide in one of their fortifications once they had them encircled. The soldiers, exhausted from the fighting and relieved at having scored a reprieve, were unprepared for an infiltration assault, and it cost them dearly.
Tarkin faced the quartermaster, looking more dejected than Adrien had ever seen him. "How bad is it?" he asked bluntly.
The quartermaster took a deep breath and launched into his report. "As it stands, I estimate that we lost the majority of our food and a good deal of our medical supplies. They didn't hit the arms or ammunition dumps, but that's about the only good thing."
Tarkin nodded. He assumed an air of stoic calm, as if putting on a brave face would somehow fix everything. "What's the most we can do with what's left?"
The quartermaster was silent for a moment as he went over the remaining provisions. Finally, he spoke up.
"At the absolute best, we'd be able to last about a month. I must stress that this will only be possible if we properly ration what's left. After that…" he shrugged helplessly.
"Thank you, Quartermaster." Tarkin now turned to face the gathered officers. "You heard him, men. It's going to be rough going from now on. A month is the most we're going to get, so once again: if anyone has an idea, I'm all ears."
Though the statement was addressed to all present, Adrien knew that it was meant for him. His stomach began twisting itself up into knots. He had hoped to have some breathing room to come up with the miracle Tarkin wanted, but that wasn't possible now. A month was all the time he had to figure something out. A month to somehow get almost half a million Turians out the predicament they were in.
And if he didn't, then one way or another, they were all finished.