Chapter 11.
"I'm telling you – its fine!" Vega was desperate. He had been trying off and on for the last few hours, yet Chakwas was adamant. He considered himself fortunate enough that the doctor had actually dismissed him from the medical bay, but that seemed to be the end of the line for her, and it would not be re-drawn for the time being. She had been rather furious when Shepard had taken leave as she momentarily departed to consult with Yeoman Chambers about a confidential matter, and she was certainly paying it forward now.
"You are not fine, and you will stop insisting such until the end of my examination." She was stern, and the forceful response reminded him of certain drill sergeants during his training days. "Am I clear Lieutenant?" Yet it seemed Chakwas had authority over them all. She was not to be trifled with. Vega didn't know why they bothered picking up all these biotic warriors and battle-hardened guests to fight the Collectors. Hell, he figured they could just dump the Doctor aboard their ship, and she'd scold them into oblivion.
Nevertheless, he was now powerless to protest as the Cerberus doctor inspected his wound from the recent firefight. Luckily, it was small. Of course, it was still healing, but the medigel had done wonders. It would be a number of days before he could comfortably run or carry heavy rucks, but he could jog. It would be even longer before he would be 100% though, a fact that his gracious doc had pounded into his head mercilessly. He could do more than nod his head and affirm her words with his own.
She continued to make little comments about the state of his injury as her inspection continued. "Hmm, it seems the entry wound has sealed quite nicely. The exit wound, slightly larger, seems to be having a harder time with it. Scans indicate to remaining residue from the round that inflicted this wound, it seemed to pass through cleanly. That is a good sign in terms of avoiding infection. The inner areas of the wound also do show to be healing at a satisfying rate. With progress such as this… I expect you to be fit for duty in 9-10 days."
He coughed suddenly, the movement aggravating his pierced abdomen. "9-10 days? Doc are you sure that's not an exaggeration? That seems like a bit much. I mean, I'm already walking around fine right?"
"That is beside the point. Functionality does not necessarily imply full mobility. My diagnosis stands. You are permitted to access other areas of the ship at your disposal, however; you are to check in with me every 6 hours. Do I make myself clear?" She really didn't leave much room for argument. It was like trying to have a scholarly debate with a wolverine. They typically only had room for one opinion. Theirs.
"Yes," he grumbled. To disagree would be detrimental to his current situation. The crew had long ago learned that the only way to placate the doctor was to follow her orders. If done properly, she would relax her guidelines, if but fractionally.
She began placing a sticky pad on both sides of the wound, entry and exit, that she plugged into a small machine next to the counter on which he was sitting. Like a good doctor, she explained her next steps slowly and clearly to ensure her patients understanding. "I am beginning the heat treatment to help loosen the muscles and tendons surrounding the wound, after which, a short shock treatment to assist in breaking down unnecessary scar tissue. Sit still for until the procedure is done, it will take around 10 minutes."
There was a tired reply to her order, and he laid his head back, his eyes closing softly as the pad slowly heated and helped him to relax. It was quite pleasant really, that was, until Jack busted in. He had been surprised that Chakwas even got her in the bay in the first place, and it seemed that somehow, in some mind-boggling, possibly terrifying way, the doctor had ensured she returned, and regularly.
The doctor washed her hands, and slowly set about removing the bandage from the protesting biotic hand. The Alliance marine grimaced slightly at the uncomfortable sight. Jack noticed this, and sneered in his direction. "Pussy." This earned her a light slap from the doctor, who seemed to counter the statement with something that seemed somehow equally as forward. "Not in my lab." It left no room, not even a smidgen of space in which to wiggle a pinky toe – for argument.
Jack grumbled lowly under her breath, the words inaudible to any who could've heard them.
"Your hand seems to be healing nice – the wound is almost completely self closed. I see no signs of infection, which is fortunate considering the circumstances regarding the amputation. Once we reach a proper medical facility, I can have a mechanical prosthetic added to help regain functionality."
For some bizarre reason, Jack seemed averse to the idea. "Nope, sorry, I am not giving this up. I kinda like it now. It's sorta badass, wouldn't ya say?" She left no time for someone to either disagree, or agree with her statement before she continued. "Besides, we've already got one bot on board, we don't need a second fucker too."
A scowl was turned her way by the doctor. "It's only a single digit. It will operate exactly the same as the real copy. But I suppose it is up to you if you choose not to take advantage of the prosthetic. It's your hand, after all."
"Ha! Damn right it is."
Jack's earlier statement slightly confused Vega, however. "What do you mean, we've already got a bot? Who the hell you talking about?"
The look she returned was guaranteed to promote any wayward NCO to the status of Captain as well as simultaneously gaining legal authorization to change the surname of said individual to that of 'Obvious'.
"The Chief you dumb bitch. Who the hell you think I'm talking about?"
Oh. It made sense, sort of. They didn't really have a whole lot of evidence to point that he wasn't a bot of some sort.
As Jack finished her explanation, Chakwas chose that exact moment to apply some antibiotic onto Jack's injured hand. Said antibiotic clearly stung slightly, as the doctor was rewarded by a string of curses and a glare that could cut through solid I-beams.
Vega would have chuckled, but the pad attached to his abdomen chose that exact moment to progress from the heat treatment, to the shock portion. It was in no way painful, it just felt as if someone was massaging his side, deeply. It had just surprised him. Okay, maybe it was a little painful, he could admit that, but never in front of Jack, lest he be called a 'pussy' again, or maybe something worse. No, it would do him well to retain his silence.
The doctor had just finished reapplying a new dressing to Jack's wound when the ship speakers suddenly blared into existence. "Ready status bravo, repeat, readiness status – level bravo. All hands to general quarters. The combat team is to report to the armory immediately. Assume threat response yellow, repeat, threat response yellow."
Vega and Jack looked at each other, seemed to sync their thought patterns, and bolted out of the room amid Chakwas' heavy protests. Maybe next time doc – but there was only so long one could spend in the med-bay.
OOOO
Miranda had just finished her daily checkup on the ships manifest request list from their next planet side stop when the announcement came over the speakers. She swore softly as she closed her desk and made for the door. That wasn't supposed to happen. Granted you were never really called to battle stations for 'good' reasons, it most certainly meant something had gone wrong. By her measurements and calculations, the Normandy was just now arriving in system. Quite simply, it meant they had come under attack. Or would be, shortly. Her experience with the citizens of the colony worlds had not painted them in a particularly aggressive light, and they did seem to have a good deal of respect for the current skipper of the vessel.
They certainly wouldn't have been the cause of this distress call. No, something was definitely wrong.
She scrambled for the elevator, already finding the majority of the team there, attempting to join them. James and Jack arrived shortly thereafter, the former with his lower torso wrapped in a tight bandage. She frowned deeply as she noticed the alcohol lining the breath of some of the gathered, and the slurred speech and motions. 'Hell of a time to get hammered,' she grimly thought. Her words were a good deal less merciful. Enough so that they will not be repeated at this moment.
It seemed as though all were present except for the Commander himself, the only one who seemed to know what's going on. As If by cosmic coincidence, Shepard chose that moment to storm into the room, brow furrowed and jaw clenched. He was upset. Miranda had only noticed him upset on a few occasions – none of them good. Noticing the confused looks on more than a few faces, the Commander chose that moment to brief them on the situation. "Sorry for the short notice everyone – we've got a bit of a development… EDI confirmed signatures that a Collector ship is orbiting the planet." Murmurs and mumbles among the crew members began to greet that statement immediately, which he promptly silenced with a raised hand. "We don't know how long they're been there, and I'm willing to bet they're not doing anything pretty down there. The ship is still in system….. at least, last I checked. EDI?"
"Affirmative Commander, initial scans show the Collector vessel orbiting a nearby moon on the far side of the planet. However; same scans also indicate a number of smaller vessels that have entry vectors towards the planet, but so far no exit vectors. I hypothesize that a significant number of Collector forces still remain on the planet, their operation interrupted by our arrival." This fact brought a few swear words into the vernacular currently used in the ship's armory, but still quiet as to 'resemble' calm indifference. The truth, this was bad. Real bad. The whole ship knew what happened when the Collectors visited a world. There would be a whole lot of people that didn't come back.
Vega was the most vocal with his anger, yet no actual vocalization was made. Instead, he immediately moved further down the armory and selected a number of weapons from the wall. It seemed, despite his recent injury, he had no intention of sitting this one out.
Miranda frowned. She had read about his history with the Collector's on Fehl Prime. While it was extremely useful to have a combatant with experience fighting Collectors on the ground, his injury would prove problematic. She spoke up after a shared look with the Commander. "Vega, I think you should sit this one out-" Before she could finish, she was interrupted quite abruptly by a rather unhappy Alliance marine.
"The hell I am! I don't care who the fuck you think you are, you are not keeping me on this boat with those things on the ground!" His protests were vehemently against any other opinion.
Out of the corner of her eye, the Cerberus biotic saw the Commander take a few steps in, about to interfere, when he suddenly paused, shrugged, and answered. "Fair enough. But you're in the last group. We can't have you slowing down anyone because of your injury. That clear?"
"Yessir." Shepard nodded, satisfied. The man would take orders from him, but probably only him – his beef with Cerberus too far rooted to be so easily allayed. He would have to be closely monitored, however. Shepard was briefed on Vega's prior encounter with Collector forces. He had done well – extraordinarily so, but there was bound to be some residual hatred borne to the insectisoids. Cerberus' source within the Alliance insisted he was a level headed, cool-headed soldier. The Commander was so far in agreement with that assessment, after all, he did just take on an entire base of mercenaries almost alone. Almost.
EDI chose that moment to make another announcement. "Commander, it appears that the Collector forces on the ground number at least 290 combatants. I recommend employing non-conventional tactics in order to defeat the forces there and free the colonists. Direct confrontation seems inadvisable at this time." Miranda once again sighed at this. Their team had proven skilled in fighting forces of a larger strength in the past. Their record currently contained no 'losses'. But you only needed to lose once. They would be outnumbered almost 30 to 1. Entirely possible, but it would be very difficult.
"Alright, here's the plan," began the Commander, his all-business tone leaving no room for interruption. "I'll take team one, with Samara, Grunt, Jacob, and Jack. Miranda, I want you to lead team two. Kasumi, Thane, Tali – you're with her. Garrus, you're in charge of team three with Zaeed and Vega. Team one, our job is to engage small pockets of the Collectors in isolated areas, where we know we have the strength to take them. Team three will have over watch on our position and relay enemy locations to us as we proceed through the city. Garrus, take your team and find an elevated position where you can survey the area and provide cover fire if needed." The Turian nodded, limited facial features knit in concentration as he envisioned possible scenarios already in his mind. The Commander continued. "Miranda, take team two and find where the Collectors are keeping the colonists, and report any major activity or useful intel. Do NOT engage – your job is to stay as mobile and quiet as possible, we can't let loose until we get some solid intel. Team one will deploy first and secure the landing zone for the other teams. Team three will go second. While team two has initiated descent, I need team three to proceed immediately to an overwatch position." The Commander looked around at the determined faces. There was no fear there, only will. This was the enemy they had signed on to fight – and although this was certainly not the endgame, it would be but a taste of things to come. "Any questions?"
There was a chorus of head shakes, when Garrus spoke up. "What are we going to do with our big green friend downstairs?"
The Commander cocked his head. "Hmmm….. what do you think we should do?"
In response, the Turian just shrugged. "I dunno, I just don't feel comfortable leaving him aboard the ship with no guards."
There was a slight pause, before the ships resident unstable biotic chose to speak up. "Son of a bitch kicks ass – just take him with us and set him loose. This is where we were taking the fucker anyways."
All aboard seemed to think about that for a moment. Technically, it was true. They had reached their destination. But it would not do to just 'set him loose' as Jack had said. His chances for willingly, peacefully, walking into the hands of the remaining Systems Alliance forces on the ground was pretty low.
"Commander," Tali spoke up softly, her accented voice cutting through the chorus of murmurs and ideas that had been tossed around. "The observation decks have thicker bulkheads because of the windows – we could put him there while we are on the ground." It was a good idea. Shepard mulled it over in his head, his hand caressing his chin in deep thought. He finally nodded. "That's a good idea – Garrus, take Jacob and –"
He was suddenly cut off by the Asari Justicar, who had yet to say a word the entire briefing. "Shepard, I think it would be much wiser to use his skills during the operation. I suggest he join team one."
There was an immediate 'no' muttered from almost every other person in the room. Everyone, except for Jack and the ships only krogan, who only shrugged in response.
Shepard shook his head to this. "No, there's too many variables. He's too much of an enigma for us to rely on during a combat op. Once the area is cleared, we can find a way to call in someone from the Alliance to pick him up.
Surprisingly, not-surprisingly, Jack interrupted. "Shepard that's bullshit. I think I remember him being the one we relied on last time. I say we give it a shot. After all, couldn't hurt right?" There was both logic and non-logic in their reasoning. Yes, of course, the Master Chief was a very capable combatant. That much was clear. But his motives were unknown, as was his past and his affiliation. In short, he was too much of an unknown factor. This, of course, was logical, but not the real reason that Miranda continually refused his participation. In fact, history of the Normandy's crew interactions suggest that there might have been a different response had 1) Jack not been the one to suggest it, and 2) if the subject in question was not the Master Chief.
Almost violently, she shook her head. "No Shepard – we can't. It's too much of a risk. The Illusive Man still needs to speak with him. If he comes with us now, we may never get that chance. How do we know he's not just going to slip away the second he gets ground side?"
"Well… he didn't last time." Vega was scowling at the Cerberus Operative now. She sighed internally. She knew most of the crew was against her. They resented her leadership, and in fact, it probably would've been more effective to state the opposite, that they should take the Chief along. That way, their consistent way of disagreeing just to spite her would work to her advantage.
"Commander Shepard, my suggestion still stands. This is the wisest course of action," calmly came the Asari's retort, as reserved as a hidden cave among the mountains, yet as powerful as a gale force wind.
Shepard seemed to think about it for a long moment. He then sighed. "Okay, we bring him with us. Garrus, I want you eyes on him wherever possible. We are not going to 'turn him loose.' He fought the mercenaries, we'll find a way to make him fight the Collectors. He goes with team one. Let's go get him."
OOOO
"Why?"
The stolid question cut through the air. It gave pause to the occupants. I mean, why had they asked him to do this? Well, because they needed his help.
"You've proven yourself a capable soldier. The Collectors have a habit of being difficult to combat. We're grateful for your help with the last operation, and if you are willing to help us here, I'll do everything in my power to get you to the System's Alliance so they can get you home."
There was a significant pause. Only Miranda and Jacob had accompanied the Commander down to the cargo bay. Jacob seemed almost eager at the prospect of fighting alongside the green metal man, while Miranda stood with her arms crossed at the back, silently huffing to herself. She was not happy. This was truly going to blow up in her face. There was a reason that the Illusive Man had personally selected the individuals aboard this ship – their dossiers, yes, were all over the map, but predictably so.
"What are the Collectors?" Every time the giant spoke up, the deep, almost rocky voice sent shivers down her spine. 'He was not to be trusted.' She couldn't care less if he could kill someone with his hands tied behind his back- the fact that he so intentionally and casually blew her off got under her skin like almost nothing ever did.
Interrupting her thoughts, the Commander took a deep breath to explain. "The Collectors are a race of aliens that kidnap humans and other species and harvest their organic matter." It was a good explanation. Short, sweet, and to the point.
"They are on the planet's surface doing so now?" The question was tinged with something that Miranda almost placed as… anger. The low voice sounded somehow lower.
"Yeah, I think they're trying to take a batch of humans from off planet. They've invaded the main city of the colony. Huriko never had a large garrison of Alliance troops, probably only a few companies worth. It's a small colony on the edge of Alliance space. They've probably been overrun."
There was another significant pause as the listener seemed to digest the Commander's words. 'Why so many damn pauses! Was the bloody thing buffering or something?' Then, there was a slight nod, almost imperceptible, and the figure seemed to straighten ever so slightly.
"I need a weapon."
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jacob smirk softly. She scowled at him, but he didn't seem to take notice. Of course he wouldn't see the problem with this. No, only she could. There was a reason that the Illusive Man trusted her – she was the best. She always was.
The Commander turned to leave, footsteps inviting the massive figure to follow.
"Right this way."
The four figures stepped into the elevator. A noticeable portion of space was consumed by the green stone beside them. 'I've seen mountains move more.' Came Miranda's thoughts. And then, 'hell he almost is a mountain.' Her thoughts drowned out the briefing that Commander gave the Chief as she suspiciously checked his posture for any sign of his intentions. She found none. Once again, for the simple fact that this newcomer was unconsciously evading her probing, she clenched her fists, hard. As the doors dinged open onto their level, the only acknowledgement that the Chief provided were subtle head nods.
The briefing continued, and as the quartet reached the doors to the armory, all motion within came to a halt, except for one particular krogan who quite frankly didn't give two shits. It had been a room previously bustling with activity as each sought to prepare for the difficult operation ahead. The Chief, not acknowledging any of the stares cast his way, calmly walked to the table where he had previously placed his weapons and ammunition. He examined them briefly, and then began to quickly, too quickly to follow, disassemble them, examine the pieces, and once again reassemble the weapons.
He turned to the Commander, "What is the approximate damage output of the Collector weapons?"
Vega, the other James, was the one that spoke up. "It's about the same as ours, or the mercs. You should be fine there." A moment of consideration, and then three items were attached to the green warriors armor. What clearly appeared to be a projectile sidearm and a bulky assault rifle, followed by a large, seemingly heavy weapon. While still fuming, Miranda had to admit she was curious to see what the newcomers weapons would do.
After a significant amount of ammunition was also attached to his body, the Master Chief turned to another wall and examined a weapon. Miranda was too caught up in her own preparations to notice the following interaction. She selected her usual armaments, her M-6 Carnifex Hand Cannon, and M-4 Shuriken. They had done her well in the past, they would do so now. Her usual combat skin was inspected, and finding it satisfactory, she turned to the rest. They all seemed prepped and ready to go. The Master Chief was holding an M-96 Mattock Assault Rifle to supplement his other weaponry. It seemed that there was rather limited projectile ammunition. Although she was confident in the Normandy fabricator's ability to manufacture such a round, she had no particular desire to do so.
As the team moved into the hangar bay, she took one last look at the green giant before he disappeared into a shuttles doors. She shook her head. "That's a bad idea Shepard." The Cerberus biotic muttered softly. Turning when she heard a soft giggle besides her, she glared furiously at the offender.
"Jealous?" Came Kasumi, her tone tinged with innocence yet also with mischief.
"Get in the bloody shuttle."
OOOO
The Master Chief knelt more motionless than a wall on the floor of the shuttle. He stood on one knee, the other propped up and his left hand gripping the top of the shuttle cabin for stability. He assessed the situation strategically, and recalled the performance of the weapon he had been given by Jacob, one of the crew members, from the past operation when similar weapons had been used. Here, he was more comfortable than at any other time in this latest escapade. An engagement on the horizon, a tactical plan and humans to defend from a hostile alien race. Familiarity at its finest. He briefly examined those with a which he was placed. They would slow him down, that's for sure, but then again, his objective was quite different from that which he had most commonly employed. He was not being sent to retrieve an ancient artifact from a huge construct built 100,000 years ago, or tasked with the destruction of an AA battery, enemy supply depots, or other high priority targets. No, his primary objective this time was to Search and Destroy. And of course, like all others, he excelled at this.
His teammates seemed also suited for the upcoming battle. The Commander seemed like a levelheaded leader, who looked after his men. Regardless of his background, the Chief could respect that. The large, reptilian creature, the 'krogan', exhibited the exact traits of a shock trooper – they could use that very well in the times coming. The calm, collected Asari woman seated nearby, 'Samara', was someone he could depend on. From the look in her eyes, she was second in combat experience to none but himself – she would not crack under pressure.
The soldier, Jacob, reminded the Chief vaguely of an ODST, experienced and highly trained combatants who kept their cool when the rounds started to fly and shit hit the fan. He seemed a good deal more reserved than the typical ODST, less boastful and more calculative.
The last member had him a little worried. She was an unknown, and from what the Chief had seen, highly undisciplined both off the battlefield and on it. If she was willing to follow orders, she'd be fine. But that was the problem, wasn't it?
The said woman in question, Jack, seemed to be engaged in verbal sparring with the large 'krogan', over who would deal the first kill on the battlefield. The heated conversation was laced with curses and snorts, jokes and taunts. A corner of John's mouth pulled upward ever so slightly. They did remind him of Marines…
He snapped out of his reminiscing, and reassessed his current weapons and ammunition. The new assault rifle provided to him would be his primary weapon, he didn't have the ammunition for the UNSC standard issue weaponry to use it consistently. Jacob had explained that this particular rifle fired rounds at a semi-automatic rate of fire, accurate up to 300 yards. The Chief frowned. It seemed that while extremely useful and carried a wide range of capabilities, these new projectile weapons were sometimes quite limited. 300 yards, for the UNSC at least, was rather short for weapon reliability. He would make it work, however, and with an overwatch team in position, he would have less need to engage enemies in long range combat anyways. As 'precautions', he brought along with him his M6D sidearm, MA5D Assault rifle, and M6 Nonlinear Galilean Rifle. In his experience, it was better to carry more into the battlefield than be caught unawares and understrength by the enemy. He hopefully wouldn't need the other weapons, but it never hurt to be careful.
Addressing him, the Commander opened a private comm freq. "Listen, I know they probably do things a bit differently where you're from, but if you're here with us, I need you to follow orders to the letter. Is that clear?"
"Affirmative."
"Good. Let Jack and Grunt take the most of the hits, they're better suited for heavy combat. Samara and I will provide support with our biotics. Go with Jacob, I think you two most closely resemble each other's styles, more – so than the rest of us."
He replied with another nod. That, it seemed, appeared to be the end of the Commanders thoughts.
The Master Chief remembered a similar situation, that seemed so long ago, aboard another small troop transport craft, a rag-tag group of fighters gearing up to challenge a dauntless foe. They had succeeded that time, and they would now. He knew little about this new enemy – but if defeating them would allow him a greater chance to understand fully his situation, he would do so. While he had gleaned more and more info from eavesdropping on the crew, he had
The Commander spoke, interrupting his thoughts. "Alright, we've got about 2 ½ minutes until we hit the LZ. We need to clear the area and hold out until the other shuttles drop the other two teams. EDI's scans aren't reporting anything in the immediate facility, but let's take that as a warning. Spread out around a 50 meter space and establish security around the LZ. Clear?"
The Chief nodded. All was clear. He had done this more times than occasions the occupants of this craft had even seen their own mothers. He had no need to be told twice. A familiar thought reached his brain at that moment, one that seemed so long ago, but was really only a week prior – his first conversation with a UNSC Commander by the name of Lasky – one he recalled rescuing on an occasion 25 years before the conversation.
"Don't suppose you're any good at clearing LZ's?" Lasky had asked.
"On occasion," had been his reply.
Yes, he was very good at clearing LZ's. A few things confused him about the organization of the team – things that would be immediately pounced upon by any sergeant worth his stripes. There was no general comms check, either over the team freq or the command freq. There was no weapons check, or visual package of the target terrain. Only limited intelligence was available on the enemy forces, both number and actual strength. It was a very hodge-podge operation, and John hoped that it's abruptness wouldn't shake the team. If this was indeed an Alliance colony world, it would be one of his best chances to find out what was going on and determine the possibility to return to UNSC space.
At t-minus 1 minute, he grew impatient, and decided to take matters into his own hands. "Comms check, ping green over command freq." There was a hesitation, noticeable. It seemed the crew were not used to such measures. Odd. After a series of affirmative pings, he repeated the process over the team freq, and caught the commander look away sharply out the window. Good. He had hoped that simple things such as a comms check would jar them into focus – remind them of the task at hand. Now was not a time to be sloppy.
Spartan 117 watched out of the observation window as the craft, the 'shuttle', as it was so called, made its way to the ground. It was much swifter than a Pelican dropship, yet much less heavily armed. The small craft settled into position on the outskirts of a small city, peppered with taller buildings and expansive suburbs and business complexes. The air temperature was higher than normal, reading an average of about 40 degrees Celsius. It would be fine for a brief operation, but any extended engagement could easily turn ugly. Heat exhaustion took many forms.
He heard the soft muttering of the krogan and the quiet cursing of the 'biotic', as the doors slowly slid open. The second a sizable entry was there, he flew out of the shuttle. He swept the area once, twice with his assault rifle, and moved swiftly to his predetermined position. "Clear here," he acknowledged as he waited for like responses. When they didn't come after a short period, he looked back to determine the reason. It seemed the team had only just made it out of the shuttle themselves when he had given his all clear. He frowned. They needed to speed it up. If they got surprised or shocked every time he exceeded their expectations, than any meaningful firefight with enemy forces would be hopeless.
Once the all clear's were given, they waited. It took no longer than a minute for the other shuttle carrying both teams two and three to reach the location. The occupants piled out, and team three immediately dashed away, looking for a suitable location to post up and provide cover fire for the rest of the team.
A cursory inspection left him satisfied with the other teams understanding of their individual roles. It seemed that the Commander correctly understood the different members specialties and organized the teams as such. Team one was full of the heavy hitters, ready to blast hard and fast at the Collectors, while Team two would locate their primary objective, the other remaining human populace of the city.
As a subconscious habit, the Chief had slunk behind a collapsed wall, using it for cover. Sticking to the shadows, and motionless, he almost disappeared. Soon after the teams had departed, Shepard turned to the team freq for the net orders. "Alright, team three is in position, team two has a good bit of distance. There's reported enemy activity about a kilometer due northeast from our position approximately squad strength. That's our first target. Let's try and draw them away from second team so they can slip in."
The Chief stood, scanning the nearby area. It seemed that the city was in much better shape than urban warfare usually left structures. These people didn't seem as familiar with the concept of total war as the UNSC was. Only one more thing to get used to – he would have to adjust his tactics. He subconsciously moved to the point of the advancing formation, it had been second nature to him at this point, leading marines and ODSTs through HALO rings, Covenant ships, forerunner constructs, and more. He could tell from the frustrated looks given to him by Grunt and Jack that they much wished to be in his position, but they didn't seem to question it, for some reason, even if there was no official declaration that as to be the plan.
They made good pace, there were no obstructions in their path to block them. It seemed like a ghost town. It was not a large city, but there should have been some sign of the living. From what the Chief had heard, there was supposed to be approximately 39,000 people in this city. The Collectors had never been known to take more than a few hundred people at a time from EDI's reports, which left a hole in their story. Where did the other 29,000 inhabitants go?
They weaved their way through building after building, the metallic surfaces giving the Chief some semblance of familiar constructions – they somewhat resembled the construction of that in his own civilization. They passed windows, most of them darkened out, but a few with lights still on, yet no sign of any of the occupants. Something was wrong.
The rest of the team seemed to sense it as well. With his enhanced hearing his helmets rear-facing cameras, he heard and watched as they each tightened their grips on their weapons. They were expecting something bad to happen. Good. Because they were going to be right. It went on for a few minutes. With Spartans, it would have taken him about 2 full minutes to reach the enemy position, but he was forced to considerably slow his pace to account for his squad mates.
"Eyes up," Shepard said, trying to bring back some focus and breath some confidence into the team. "Keep your heads on a swivel, if you see anything suspicious, I want to know about it – alright?"
A chorus of yes's and affirmative's greeted him over the comms. The Chief could pick up the Commander's conversation with the other teams, held on separate comm frequencies. It didn't seem like they had found anything either.
"Hold here," The Commander interrupted. On this, the Master Chief immediately moved to cover, all but disappearing from sight. He saw the others attempt to discern his exact position, it seemed they were unable. They knew he was there, though. For some of them, it was a comfort. They all got the feeling that this otherworldly soldier had been through battles the likes of which would turn their wildest nightmares into things for comedy shows. "Overwatch is relocating." They needed to move buildings in order to get a better visual on the rest of the city. "Second team is reporting same thing we're seeing."
"So.. nothing?" Jacob asked, his voice laced with sarcasm.
"Yeah," grunted the Commander.
"I don't like this shit." Of course, what did Jack like?
"We haven't seen a damn thing to kill this whole time. You sure the Collectors were here, Shepard?" Grunt was blunt and annoyed as always.
"Yeah, I'm sure. We'll see what's going on soon. Everybody focus."
The Chief shook his head softly. They were chatty. While he understood the need to ease the nerves, they needed to have complete control of this operation. One jumpy motion could trigger something quite uncomfortable for all of them.
"Alright, overwatch in position, proceed."
Again, the Chief stood, Jacob slightly jumping from where he was positioned, obviously forgetting he was even there, he had been so still.
They went forward, just like normal, until the bodies started. It was a scene right out of the Chief's memories. There they lay, hundreds of them, just strewn out in the streets, blood and gore everywhere. The Chief noticed with a clenched jaw that with the exception of a very select few, they were all unarmed.
"Vega," Shepard shakily began. "As far as you know… do the Collectors harvest everyone? Like, do you need to be alive to be… Collected?""
"Yeah… I see 'em too. I don't know. This is bad Shepard. The Collector's don't just execute people."
The Chief knelt down next to a small ball of clothes, the familiar sight that had greeted his operations for over thirty years. The ball was soft to the touch, which he rolled over slowly. A pair of glassy eyes stared right back up at him. The young child, missing half her face, seemed to have been killed but hours ago. The Master Chief clenched his fist. He had seen this before. Many, many times before. The Covenant did things like this. He slowly closed the child's eyes, placing the rest of the loose clothes over her head, and stood. He surveyed the area. This may have not been his world, his duty, hell, maybe not even his galaxy, but he would be damned if he would let another group of aliens massacre innocent civilians. There would be no bringing back these people. But damn, would he avenge them.
Spartans do not, technically speaking, hate. They are much too disciplined for such childish outbursts of emotion. They were not incapable of rage, but there was no hot flame of wrath that accompanied their anger. Rather, a Spartan would occasionally – if the situation required it - enter a state of cold fury comparable to an indomitable tsunami headed for a coastal town, devastating everything in its path. A force of nature indisputable.
As the team moved through the bodies, he heard a retching sound from behind him, and he recognized it as Jack losing her lunch. He was not surprised. Anyone, no matter how tough they seemed to be, had limits. From the look on their faces, the Commander and Jacob were not far from following. Samara seemed to have straightened to the likeness of a wooden board, her expression unreadable, whereas Grunt seemed slightly angrier than usual, even slightly indifferent.
A voice broke out over the comms – the command freq. "Team one… um… there's a group of collectors, the squad we saw earlier, about 100 yards from your position. There's another group, about platoon strength that seem to be following them. You'll cross paths with the squad in about 20 seconds."
"Got it, thanks Garrus."
"You got it Commander. These Collectors… they just killed them? Why?"
"I don't know. But damn, are we going to find out."
"Fuckers…." Jack muttered, her voice dark in anger.
"Shepard – I think EDI might have gotten it wrong. If they killed everyone… I think we might be talking about a bit more than 300 troops here…"
"Yeah, I figured."
Miranda chose that moment to speak up over the comms, joining the conversation briefly as team one readied themselves to initiate contact. It seemed they had also run into a similar situation on their end. Except for a select few crew members, no one had yet to see the Collectors in action. "The Collectors… they're monsters… aren't they?"
No one noticed as the Master Chief replaced his 'mass effect rifle' with his MA5D and readied his ammunition, standing resolutely, immediately in the middle of the street. But they all heard the voice. It's harshness sent a blizzard down their spines.
"I'm worse."
OOOOOOO
As soon as the shivers stopped, the shooting started. Large, deafening booms, which in Jack's experience, usually accompanied frag grenades, discarded the silence like a piece of wet toilet paper. Three of the Collectors who had just turned the corner experienced a feeling usually associated with that of your head exploding, before their decapitated bodies hit the ground. The rest of the insect squad turned the corner, and as Jack was about to unleash a biotic blast, it seemed as if Samara – or the commander beat her to it, as a blur shot forward and knocked four of the too-closely grouped insects to the ground. She slightly recoiled in confusion as the blur didn't seem to have any gravitational affects on the gathered aliens, which was odd. What was even more odd, was that the blur was not blue – that of biotics. This blur was green.
Jack's jaw dropped as she watched the Master Chief dismantle the Collector team like a jenga set 20 rounds in. He was too fast to follow, and all she saw was a green spot as the Collectors heads were smashed in, their exoskeletons crushed under the brutal assault. Even Grunt seemed slightly caught off-guard. The strange rifle the big green bastard had brought along with him barked like a dog, dropping two more of the hellish creatures.
None of the gathered team had accompanied the Spartans to Draco IV, where they mercilessly executed thousands of Covenant troops after the massacre of millions of civilians on the planet. If they had, their nightmares would be fueled for many a fortnight. There was absolutely no mercy as the Chief finished off the last of the Collectors, kicking it fully through a wall, its inner organs exiting its shattered exoskeleton.
"Umm…. Okay. That was…" Shepard began, obviously surprised at the sudden extreme violence with which the aliens had been dispatched.
"BADASS!" Jack shouted. The green head snapped to her. The gold visor was absolutely blank and emotionless. "Umm… that was badass." She said a lot quieter.
"Hostiles, group of 50, headed our way. Contact in 5."
Then she heard the stomping of dozens of feet coming their way from behind a building.
"Shit," went the Commander as he dove for cover, rounds just whizzing over his head. Jack threw up a biotic barrier, as did Samara, the blue blankets catching the fired rounds. Grunt, momentarily frustrated about the Chief taking the first of the kills charged into the fray, fists and weapons blaring. The Chief himself had darted inside a building nearby the advancing Collectors and was now using it as cover while he returned fire against the attackers.
A quick reversal of her biotic barrier sent a group of four buggers off their feet and into the ground, where they were quickly picked off by the rapid fire of Jacob and the Commander. The rapid fire booms of the Chief's assault rifle was welcomed by exploding heads and body parts alike. The quick bursts were as effective as any guillotine she could imagine. The fire coming in from the side of the building now had a methodical, almost robotic pattern, turning to the next target at the same exact time- every time.
Samara unleashed a singularity around the corner of the nearby building as to stop additional Collector forces from being able to rush them, at least for the time being. Commander Shepard, noticing this, ordered over the frequency, "Get into the building – double time!" While Jack was sick of all the military lingo, she did happen to know quite a few terms. Double time meant fast. She could do that. Triggering a biotic dash, she darted from her cover behind a grounded air car. There was natural instinct within her to resist orders, yet the current situation seemed to call for something a little outside her usual attitude.
The booms that seemed to signify the Master Chief's rifle were coming in short bursts, almost exactly half a second apart each time. Every time the boom echoed throughout the narrow street, another foe dropped to the ground, dead.
As a slightly larger group came into a view, a singularity was shot into the air by the other biotic main in the group. Samara had kept up the support with blasts, barriers, and other tricks and tools of the trade for the entire firefight. She was much more reserved and analytical than Jack was, who just thoughtlessly tore into the enemies with little thought to the tactical repercussions, as Grunt seemed to do as well. The bright blue ball of light that emitted from Samara struck a duo of Collectors, freezing them in place and slowly lifting them from the ground, helpless. This seemed to cause the slightest of pauses in the firing pattern of the Master Chief, it was almost imperceptible, but it was there. He was clearly not expecting such a thing.
Rounds zinged over and around the small cover employed by the biotic, and the Commander and Jacob were doing their best to keep up the covering fire, but there seemed to be more and more enemies turning the corner every second. It was going to be rough. Grunt had them fairly distracted, his combination of short range weapons and hand-to-hand combat was wreaking havoc on the advancing forces. Samara was lending a hand to the two combatants toward the rear, augmenting their abilities to reach the enemy more effectively for longer durations. That, combined with the Chief's sustained fire that never seemed to miss, and the former 50 or so Collector forces were whittled down to a dozen.
Even after using her biotic abilities mostly annihilate the enemy front line, for some reason Jack was still feeling slightly underused. She had been surprisingly quiet up to this point, but that was due for a change soon. 'The big fucking green bastard just had to take all the damn kills….'
Her frustration was slightly alleviated by blasting a group of three Collectors into chunks with a ball of biotic rage. She saw Grunt take a shot to the arm, turn, and smack the Collector that had done so into the nearest wall, cracking its tough exoskeleton. Grunt then gave a roaring charge, bowling into two more of the insect-like creatures, stomping and mashing them into pulps. He was about to turn to finish off the rest of the foes when a green hand wrapped its way around part of the nearest Collectors head, crushing it into oblivion.
As the Chief walked towards the two that remained, letting them fire away at his strange kinetic barriers, Grunt seemed to growl in frustration. Jack seemed to understand this. No one stole their kills. Absolutely fucking no one. The biotic gritted her teeth in slight anger as the green armored boot found itself buried in Collector bodies, themselves smashed into an unrecognizable mush. She approached the green giant, fists tight. "Hey!"
The green visor seemed to turn to her, and then, without a word, turned and walked off.
"The fuck? I'm talking to you, you bitch!"
There was no response as the Chief continued forward.
"Jack-" The Commander interrupted, trying to calm her down. "Now's not the time. Focus please."
The biotic and the krogan both snarled. It looked like they were about to say something, when Garrus' voice broke out over the comms.
"Commander! Team 2's found something! Problem though, I think the Collector's found them, too!"
"Shit. How far are they?"
"From your current position, about 1600 meters. They were last seen in the cities cargo port."
"What did they find? Did they say?"
There was a pause while Garrus waited to respond, the answer being quite hesitant. "I'm not sure. They haven't said anything since their initial announcement, and aren't responding to our hails over the team freq."
Jack snorted. "Serves her right, Cerberus cheerleading bitch."
The Commander shot a darker look her way, daring her to say more. She clearly thought about expanding on her prior statement, but against all odds, chose to stay quiet. It was extremely difficult to hold back. Shepard chose not to address her, at this time anyways. He, instead, tried to reach the second team over the communications channel.
"Team 2, this is Shepard, do you read? What's your status? Over." He waited… and waited a bit longer. There was no response.
"Repeat, team 2, status report." Again, nothing. Tuning to team 3, "Garrus, are they in trouble?"
"Uhh… unknown. I can't get good eyes on their position from here, but I'd have to say it's probably nothing good."
"Agreed," Shepard sighed, gearing up for the second portion of the battle. The minor skirmish they had just experienced would probably be one of many to come. "Team 3, give us the fastest route, what's our ETA to Team 2's position?"
There was another halt in the conversation as Garrus proceeded to use his urban navigational skills to attempt and find them the best path through the seemingly abandoned, dead city. "Got it, I'll have EDI send it to your omnitools. It's about 2 klicks from your current position, so it'll take about 8-10 minutes if you hightail it. 15-20 if there's resistance."
Shepard nodded in thanks as the teams omnitools popped up with the new destination.
"This better be where the Collector's are, Shepard." Grunt growled lowly, obviously more concerned with the potential for death and destruction than the welfare of his fellow team members.
Another interruption, this time with Garrus speaking a bit more quickly and worriedly, "Team 2 looks like their in deep shit, I just spotted a troop column headed to their last reported position, they look ready to fight."
"Well that's good. Because so are we." It was enough time to make Jack smile. She would stave her frustration for now, as long as it meant she got to kill something later.
The Commander's face lit up like a lightbulb being serviced and repaired by an experienced technician who could wire a tv to the electrical outlet and get channels from half a planet away.
"Chief – how fast are you?"
The figure in question did not deign to answer, and he hadn't necessarily expected him too. Instead what came his way was a look, one that said, 'However fast I need to be.' Shepard took it as a good sign. "I need you to get to team 2 ASAP. We'll be right behind you, but it seems to me like we might slow you down."
"The fuck?!" Came the livid response from Jack. "We sure as hell will not!" From the look Grunt was giving him currently, it seemed there was a similar thought process in his head.
The only thing the green figure returned was a subtle head nod, before he quite simply, disappeared. So much for not letting the dude loose she guessed.
Jack watched Shepard shake his head slowly, with the soft mutter soon following, almost under his breath. "The hell is this guy…."
Jack was thinking the same thing.
OOOOO
In the frankest of ways, shit had not only hit the fan, but had come face to face with a massive rotor that seemed to fling desecrate all over the place. It was getting bad. Miranda knew it was bad when Thane got hit. Thane never got hit – the assassin was too stealthy, too sneaky, to take rounds.
It had happened very quickly. The operation was going pretty smoothly up to that point, the multitude of discovered bodies included. Miranda knew the strengths of her team, it would most definitely not be in any firefight scenario. No, their strength would come into play with their evasion. If the enemy never saw them, it was very hard to take action against them. So that's what they intended to do. It worked, for a time.
They wormed their way through buildings, streets and causeways, finding bodies everywhere. Some wore the uniforms of the Alliance reservists, the distant colonies token guard force. Others were obviously civilians. It seemed like there was a good amount of people that still seemed to be missing, however. There was a huge proportion of the population gone.
They paused multiple times throughout their escapade to let someone lean over and lose their lunch, Miranda herself included in that number. This was just… appalling. Nothing she had ever seen could compare.
As they drew closer to what they suspected to be the main landing zone for the aliens, distant sounds seemed to draw her attention. It was the sounds of a firefight ahead. She urged the team to pick up the pace. That was all the Collectors needed.
A sudden change in motion patterns seemed to draw the attention of the massive insects, and within seconds, from a nearby building, fire began to rain down on them. Tali and Kasumi dived into cover, Miranda and Thane covering them for the brief moment it had taken them to move away from the Collector line of sight. After the initial contact, they too darted into a nearby building for protection from the rapidly increasing enemy activity near their position. It was time to move. This was not the right team to get engaged in a lengthy firefight. Their numbers were too small and they were not equipped for large scale combat.
"Everyone, fall back," she ordered. "We're skirting our last few buildings we passed, then we'll double back around. Thane, Tali, you first. Kasumi and I will follow." 'What were they fighting before we showed up?' She wondered, and hoped as the team moved forward. They would paint this target and keep moving.
The two lead team members immediately set off, setting a good pace for the other two. They stealthily retreated to another intersection where no prior enemy activity had been reported and made a turn. Miranda could hear the increasing volume of pitter patter and weapons fire from their previous location.
She urged the team forward, and they tried to put as much space between them and the enemy as possible. She sighted a possible area it could be possible to lose their pursuers within, what looked like a cargo loading yard for intra-system vessels. After pointing and quietly directed the team there, she keyed the comms to inform Garrus about the situation. It was not the clearest of connections, and Miranda had to strain to discern Garrus reply from all the other interference.
"Overwatch, we are relocating. Heading for the cargo port, we clear to head out?"
"-ad copy, ple- r- -eat. You said car- port?"
"Affirmative, headed to the cargo port, can you get us cover from there?"
"-ative. Port —- clear of —- hostiles. — proceed. How copy?"
"Bad copy, repeat, bad copy. Headed for the cargo port now. Keep us posted."
"— — —" She couldn't discern a single word. However, from what she gathered from the quick conversation, they should be good to move forward to the port, they would have overwatch keeping a good eye on them, as well as the element of stealth on their side. Miranda signaled the team to move forward. There was a slight hesitation as they all looked at each other, at which point they seemed to turn back and headed the way Miranda had directed them.
As they proceeded, the large cargo crates loomed ever closer. Stacked sometimes 4 or 5 at a time, it formed a miniature city of supplies. There were much fewer bodies in this area, which crossed Miranda's mind as suspicious. The cargo port would provide an excellent area to regroup and get their bearings, as they were most often strategically placed to allow quick airborne access. As such, very few other tall objects existed around the port, allowing anyone from a good enough vantage point to see for a good distance without tall buildings obscuring their vision.
The premises were silent, the whisper of the wind being the only noise that was heard. As they proceeded, Miranda felt a slight shiver run down her spine, never a good sign. The other members seemed to feel it too, even Thane pausing slightly as he seemed to sniff the wind. "We should move. There is something here amiss. Let's not stay long," his doubled voice announced. Miranda was all too happy to agree.
A large hum buzzed through the port at that moment, yet no apparent movement was yet visible. The team all looked at each other, worry lighting their features. Surprisingly, it was Tali who acted first. "Let's go check it out. Could have something to do with the colonists?" That was a far-fetched hope, and they knew it. They couldn't exactly turn back, however, as the Collector group they had lost earlier would most definitely catch their 'scent' if any sort of tactical retreat was attempted.
The hum seemed to bounce off every container at once, created a quite disorienting reverberation that made it difficult to actually track the source of the noise. Kasumi seemed to almost shuffle nervously, a fact that Miranda could only tell because of the slight movement of the feet off to her left. Otherwise, the thief was invisible.
The Cerberus biotic cleared her throat, preparing to speak. It came out a whisper, intentional. "Alright, here's the plan. Once we have a good idea of what's going on here, what enemy positions are; we bug out, contact team 1, and wait for backup to hit the site. No matter what, do not engage the enemy. Is that clear?"
There were three nods to the affirmative. However; as one of the individuals who nodded was currently cloaked and seemed to suddenly forget that fact, Miranda turned and asked a little louder, this time receiving a positive verbal response. It was all she needed.
"Thane, Kasumi, I want you to get around some of these containers and try and find the source of the noise. I have a feeling it may lead us to some of the Collectors. Tali and I will hold position up top one of the crates and try and locate enemy positions. Go."
The two teams split up, each silent as shadows. Miranda trusted in their abilities. They might not have trusted her motives, or her reasoning, but on the battlefield, she held her own. No matter what the others may have thought, she was still a good tactician.
As the human woman pulled her Quarian teammate onto the cargo crate that she had designated, she settled down and laid flat on her stomach so as to minimize her profile. She could see nothing except a web of crates. However; the noise was slightly less disorienting, as there were fewer objects for the hum to bounce off of. Using their brief advantage, she managed to hone in on the general direction that it was being caused from. It was the same vector for which Thane and Kasumi were now headed. That was good. She knew they would stay hidden. This was where they excelled. However; from this vantage point, she was unable to spot any of the other Collector forces in the vicinity. It was too much to hope for that they had just vacated the area. Call it a hunch, but Miranda just knew there was something important at this place. Because it was a valuable airlift location for the Alliance/Colony, it would double as such for the Collectors as well.
They waited a few minutes, before a voice to her side almost made her jump. "It's a ship!" Came the whisper yell. Miranda looked at the thief, exasperated at her sudden deceleration and appearance without warning.
As if ignoring said warning (or maybe didn't even catch it), Kasumi continued on. "It's a pretty big ship – it looks almost like a smaller version of the Collector ship Shepard showed us. It looks like it's being loaded with crates."
The hell did the Collectors need cargo for? This operation was all whack. First the amount of slaughter in the streets, something the Collectors were certainly capable of, but never known for. They were supposed to take all their victims, not leave them bloodied in the street. Now they were loading the cargo crates? This just didn't fit their MO. Of course, they had so far been able to confirm that there were Collector forces on the ground. So either Miranda and the others knew less about the Collectors than they realized, or the rules of the game had changed. Neither option was very comforting.
A sudden sound to her right side made her momentarily jump in surprise. It was the found of loud scraping that seemed to continue for a number of seconds. Distantly, from atop her crate, she managed to spot another box of cargo being dragged by a number of Collector drones. Fortunately, they had not yet seen her. And hopefully it would stay that way. She slowly waited for them to pass, and once the grating noise stopped, she ordered her team to move up. "We've got to find out what's in those crates."
It seemed no one was very overeager to actually make the discovery, yet they wordlessly followed the biotic. The maze of metal walls eventually opened up to a more manageable 'pathway'. As they followed it, Miranda noticed each member of the team momentarily look backwards – for just a moment- before turning around and following with the others. They all felt it.
As they neared the noise, the hum grew from an incessant purr to a moaning growl. A tall black object seemed to peak up from behind one of the larger stacks of crates. She instinctively changed their current bearing to angle that way.
She felt a slight nudge on her shoulder, and turned to find Thane walking silently beside her. His voice, strange even in a whisper, seemed to confirm her suspicions. "This is the ship we spotted earlier. I was unable to identify the classification, however; it is larger than the Normandy."
This last statement forced a frown onto the Cerberus agents face. While a ship slightly larger than the Normandy would be formidable, it didn't make much sense to start loading it with load equipment. She needed a closer look. The team slowly edged forward, creeping on their toes. Their smaller size and relative agility would serve them well here. A few Collector soldiers were found wandering the maze of crates, probably patrolling guards. They were easily avoided. The noise continued to strengthen as they approached closer and closer.
As Miranda crept around a corner, she saw it. It was a large vessel, about twice the size of the Normandy. It was sleek and black, yet at the same time unnecessary protrusions and ugly bulbous structures dotted it's surface. 'If ants flew, she thought, 'this would be their flagship.' The ship looked exactly what she envisioned a Collector ship would be. The noise they had heard earlier seemed to be coming from the ship itself – either a gravity beam or the engines or something else, but it was the ship. Miranda watched as cargo crate after cargo crate was brought into the ship, and then carried back out, by some form of aliens machinery, except upon their exit they were clearly empty, the double doors wide open.
Out of the corner of her eye, Miranda seemed to spot the stack that it seemed the Collectors were picking from to empty into the ship. She just had to investigate. Security was not sparse, but it was not as strong as she had come to expect. Were the Collectors becoming lax? She certainly hoped so, but some feeling told her this was not the case.
They neared the pad with the offloading cargo crates, and Miranda slowly stepped to the side as to not draw unwanted attention. She looked the crate over again and again. It didn't seem overly suspicious. It was even outright normal. But they wouldn't know until they got it open, would they.
"Cover me," asked the biotic quietly as she set about the task at hand. This was all about stealth. One bad move here could spell disaster with a capital D. She felt her mind close in on itself as she summoned a quick yet almost powerless burst of biotic energy. It left a low hum, yet still quiet. Using a skill Miranda had long since developed, she channeled this small burst of energy into a miniature version of a biotic lance. The effect – the lock keeping the crate closed was shattered, almost noiselessly. The door didn't budge, which mean it would have to be swung open by hand. She did so. The sight and the smell that greeted her put her directly on her hands and knees, dry-heaving. Caught off guard by the sudden reaction, the other team members turned towards the crate, before almost following Miranda's motions.
Tali sat down, hard. Thane and Kasumi looked visibly shaken. In fact, when Kasumi next spoke, the voice was shaky enough to require an earthquake warning.
"Do… do… do the Collectors…. Need us to… be alive to harvest us….?" Apparantly not. The crate was jammed pack with day old human corpses. Probably a few hundred in this crate alone, packed in their like sardines. The smell, while no more than a few hours old, was just enough to cause their respiratory systems to momentarily malfunction. This… this was awful.
"Garrus – do you copy?"
There was garbled nothingness on the response.
"I think… I think we found our point of interest. Have team 1 meet us here immediately. Copy?"
Another response, this time a faded series of mumbles. "-ocation?"
"Cargo bay, northeast side. It's bad."
"-py — last. —put."
"Will do, holding –"
She was cut off by a bright bolt of light that seemed to cross immediately in front of her vision and smash against Thane's kinetic barriers. They held, until two more identical bolts of light slammed into him, overloading his barriers and penetrating his side. There was a soft groan, before the Drell assassin slowly slumped over, his side heavily bleeding.
"Thane!" Tali yelled, rushing to his side.
"No, there's a sniper-" Miranda barely had time to react before Tali was hit by another bolt, this one cascading against her barriers. Another seemed be on its way, but Miranda had already at that point summoned a biotic pull and brought Tali out of the line of fire and into cover. After a quick glare to berate her from charging into the fire like that, Miranda did the same thing for Thane. He was bleeding heavily, and his breathing was very labored. It looked bad, his right side almost shredded. They needed to get him to Chakwas now. He was somehow still conscious, and looked to Miranda with a surprisingly calm look on his face. He nodded, and managed to prop himself against a crate. Kasumi was firing wildly with her pistol in an attempt to force the opposition into cover.
This had been a mistake. The Collectors, somehow, someway, had lured them here. The next few minutes turned into a brief trailer of hell. Mass Accelerator rounds whizzed every which way, some striking the teams kinetic barriers, but the majority sailed harmlessly overhead. She watched and fired away, bullets and biotics both working to put up an effective line of fire for the others. She bit her tongue hard – she had led them right into a shithole. This was probably on her.
At that moment, the comm garbled again, this time, just as unintelligible.
Time to make a decision. "Kasumi, grab Krios! Fall back to the last line of crates – we'll try and lose them! Tali, scout ahead for them, use your shotgun to blast the sons of bitches off their feet. I'm bringing up the rear."
The slender Asian seemed to struggle with the Drell's weight. Somehow, probably the adrenaline, she managed to lift the assassin and arrange him so that he was laying across her shoulders. The effort strained her, however, and she was hunched over to adjust for the heavy weight.
They took off as fast as they could towards cover. While the team could still not see a majority of their ambushers, that left a good amount still vulnerable to small weapons fire. As they reached cover on the other side of the aforementioned series of crates, they tried to reorganize.
"Alright, Tali, you're on corner duty. Nothing gets past this line. Kasumi, you help her. I'll be on the other side. Thane, if you can still shoot, please do so." This seemed to earn a chuckle from the Drell. At least, the very limited one he was capable of right now.
Seconds passed. Then a minute of two, then maybe three. Nothing. And then, all of the sudden, they came en masse. She heard Tali and Kasumi firing wildly from behind her, while Thane did the best cover fire he could do while gravely injured. It wasn't going to be enough. The rounds seemed to have a mind of their own, every one finding itself embedded in an unsuspecting Collector. Many seemed to drop as they came around the corner. But still, the numbers were overwhelming. She didn't think she could hold out another thirty seconds before another one of those insect bastards managed to get lucky.
That's when she heard it. A loud rattle, almost like a Jackhammer. And then, quite simply, the Collectors started to explode. One by one. Okay maybe not one by one. Sometimes it was two, even three at a time. Just pop, pop, pop. Before she knew it, she watched a Collector from out of her field of view come sailing through the air before landing with a thud against a cargo pod. It was a satisfying sight, even though she had to forcefully keep her lunch down as it splattered against the siding.
The attacking Collectors noticed it too, as more than half of them assaulting force turned to face the source of the sudden demise of their comrades. Using some of her remaining strength, Miranda shot a biotic blast knocking several of the insects to the ground. There, they too seemed to lose their brains, as they were blasted out the side of their head with a resonating boom that hurt her ears.
Before she knew it, every Collector on her side of the crate was dead. 'Shepard came…' was her immediate relieved thought. About time. Any longer and they would have been in serious trouble. 'Hell,' was another thought as she looked down at their bleeding squadmate, "Thane is already in serious trouble." Her eyes widened as exactly the last figure she expected to see turned the corner. It was the Master Chief. She realized with a start that he had been the one to assist them, the loud booms must've been his projectile weapons. Reflecting on the previous moments of the battle very briefly, especially a moment when she had seen a Collector flung through the air no less than 15 meters. 'He must be a lot stronger than he looks. Not that he didn't look strong, that is.' Her face caught up to her mind a short second after, realizing who had come to their rescue, and impersonate an immediate scowl, which was her default expression for anytime the Spartan was involved. It deepened as he seemed to brush right past her, not even a word expressed.
"Hey-" She started, but her words caught in her throat as the Chief opened up on the Collectors the reverse side of her that were attacking Tali and Kasumi. 'Right…' came the guilty admission as she swallowed and continued to cover her own side.
There were a series of deafening booms, and the returning fire from the Collectors gradually lessened. Miranda heard the distinct crunch of exoskeletons popping from their general collection – probably the Chief going hand to hand. The thought was intriguing, yet the disciplined Cerberus agent kept her eyes trained on her portion.
A few more silent seconds passed, before a quiet "Keelah…" made it's entrance.
Then came the extremely distinct rock hard voice. "Area clear."
Miranda unconsciously let out a breath that she had been holding. Keeping her senses trained on her side of the position, she briefly checked on Thane. He was holding his side now with both hands now that there were no hostiles to engage. He was not in good shape.
She watched as the Master Chief approached and knelt next to the injured Drell, checking the injury. There was a slight pause, as if he was considering something. Then the massive green man reached near his waist and pulled a can of a material that Miranda didn't recognize. There was a prong extended, before the can was placed next to the drell, and a white foamish substance was applied to the injuries, seeming to stem the flow of blood. 'A form of medigel, possibly?'. It would make sense, and it certainly didn't seem like the Master Chief had a lot of it.
"We need to get him out of here." She commanded, however it almost came out as a plead, despite her wishes.
There was simply a nod returned, after which the soldier picked up the assassin gingerly as if he weighed no longer than a piece of loose clothing. "Follow me." There was no alternative, so they did just that. They followed a short path marked by Collector bodies for about 2 minutes before a small 'clearing' opened up – a space between the crates just wide enough for a shuttle to come in for pickup. The Master Chief turned to Miranda – "Radio for medevac."
She tried to do so, but in return received no answer. She wasn't even positive the message went through. "My comms are down – anyone else give it a shot?"
She watched as they each attempted to call in the shuttle. They were all unsuccessful, even to contact the Commander/other team. Miranda frowned. She had noticed the interference earlier, but had unfortunately not thought much on it. That was a mistake. It was coming back to bite them. Addressing the rest of the team, "there must be a jammer of some sort nearby that's blocking our comms. We'll need to disable it before we can call for the shuttle."
"Can't we just backtrack to where we were in contact with the other teams?" Tali asked, slightly confused.
The answer this time came from the Master Chief. "The Collectors were massing near our fallback vector after my approach. It will be difficult to bring wounded through their line. How defensible do you estimate the jammer to be?"
He received a stare in return. "I – I don't know." She really didn't. It was truly only an assumption. If the Collectors weren't using a jammer of some sort, that would mean faulty communication equipment – and no amount of proximity would fix that issue.
Miranda was left with a choice. Risk the extraction through enemy held territory, or risk the jammer – even if there was one. "How many Collectors were there?"
"Approximately 3 companies worth."
"Bloody hell…" She needed to choose, and choose quick. Thane wouldn't hold out forever. "We go for the jammer. It will probably be located in or around the ship that we saw earlier – the signal started to corrupt the closer we got to it."
That was enough for the Chief. "Stay here, reinforce this position. I will report in when the jammer is destroyed." Before he could turn and leave, however; Miranda caught hold of his arm that he had straightened after softly setting Thane onto the ground again.
The question, an unbidden one yet familiar from the past few days, rose to the surface and escaped Tali's mouth. "Why?" Why do this alone? We don't owe you anything? Why try and help us?
It seemed the others wanted the answer to that question as well. Miranda, however, added upon it. "Why should I trust you with our lives?" Her voice was slightly modified by indignation making its creeping way into the vocal patterns.
"You have a better plan?" No, no she didn't.
She shook her head.
That was all he needed, as the giant green man silently disappeared, as quick as lightning yet as silent as an Asari huntress. More-so, possibly. The Cerberus biotic exhaled softly. Back to square one. And like last time, they were alone. Unlike last time, there were no Collectors to bother them.
