Gro-Po: Short form of Ground Pounder. I borrowed this term from Babylon 5's name for ground operating Space Marines because it has a no-nonsense sort of toughness about it that appeals to me. Vega is sooooo a Gro-Po. :D
19 Days ASR
"Well?" Garrus asked when Nyreen didn't answer immediately. "Why are you here?"
"I stowed away before you left Omega," the tarin replied. She crouched, talons poised, her gaze restless as if she expected attack to come at her from every direction. She snapped her head around to nod at the closet. "Get dressed. Fast. We need to get out of here." Three loping strides carried her to Martin's side. "That lock scrambled, kid?"
Martin straightened and shut off his omnitool, plunging them back into almost complete darkness. "Yeah, they'll have to cut their way through."
Garrus straightened, and opened his mouth to get some answers, but before he could utter a sound, his answer came in the form of muffled gunfire.
Nyreen cocked her head, an alert, avian jerk to one side than the other. "Sounds like they've made their way to the engineering deck." She spun, stared at him for a half second then threw up her hands. "Why are you still standing there? Blue Suns are gunning their way through your ship."
"Blue Suns?" Again? Garrus sprang into action, shaking off the last vestiges of shock. He threw on a leggings and a light tunic, then wriggled into his armour's underlayer. "Fill me in," he demanded, heart beating fast and light as he settled the yoke over his cowl.
"About ten minutes ago, two Archangel ships pulled up alongside of the Passch," Martin told him. "They didn't hail or respond to recog codes, so Cpt. L'Tsai called general quarters, but it was too late. The Stinger ripped down our shields and blew open the shuttle bay. That took out our gro-pos before they knew what hit them. Then the Suns boarded and started gunning their way up through the decks."
Garrus locked his girdle into place, his extremities buzzing as adrenaline splashed through his bloodstream. He shook it off, focusing on getting out there to save as many of his crew as he could. Casting a quick glance toward Nyreen, he said, "Now you. Where were you for all this?"
The tarin flicked her mandibles at him, the only sign of being put off by his suspicion. "I stowed away in a medical locker. Came out when I heard the stinger fire and headed straight for the ducts." Stabbing a thumb at Martin, she said, "Stopped to get the kid, and here we are." She paced a few steps one way then back the other, pausing every round to press her head to the door, listening.
"But why are you on my ship? You're supposed to be seeing to the deployment of our troops," he demanded, stopping to listen for a half-second as the gunfire grew louder.
"Yes, well, while you were spreading Archangel troops across the entire known galaxy, you weren't protecting the most valuable asset Archangel possesses," Nyreen said, her words a hiss pressed between clenched teeth underscored by a deep, disapproving subvocal rumble. "I decided that someone needed to, and I didn't know who I could trust in the organization, if anyone."
"Our facilities are our most important assets," Garrus said, lifting his torso armour over his head.
"Seriously?" Nyreen stared at him, her mandibles spread wide, then arched her neck and glanced over at Martin. "Is he for real?"
Martin grinned, a grim slash of teeth across the tight planes of his face. "I have to answer with both, 'I'm afraid so', and 'thank God, yes'."
Kandros chuffed. "It's you, General," the tarin said, pacing to the door again. "You are Archangel." She froze, listening.
Garrus mirrored her. Faint gunfire. It sounded like it came from the CIC, maybe the elevator.
A fierce growl rumbled through her sub-vocals. "We're running out of time. Hurry up with that armour. Once they've secured the ship, they'll come for you." As he settled his armour over his carapace, Nyreen stepped closer to eyeball him and then the hole in the ceiling. "This could be a problem."
Garrus sealed it in place and boosted it up to settle comfortably over his shoulders. "As long as we stick to primary ducts, we'll be fine. I've run boarding drills through these ducts fifty times over the cycles." He jumped slightly as gunfire erupted just on the other side of the door. "However, these bulkheads aren't completely bulletproof. Both of you, helmets on, and get up into that duct. I don't trust these mercs to avoid putting a bullet through the hull."
A fierce grin spread his mandibles, lifting them high as the gunfire dragged on. At least his people were putting up a hell of a fight. "How many Blue Suns?" he asked, grabbing his sidearm and hanging it on his hip. Maybe if they opened the door, they could hit the mercs from both sides, take them down in the cross-fire. It was a hell of a lot faster to get to the CIC via the usual route than through the ducts. Besides, if they ran things smart, he could secure the crew deck and prevent the enemy coming in hard on their backsides when they took the CIC.
"Over a hundred, General." Nyreen shook her head. "We can't take them head on. Our best bet is to reach the CIC while they're still spread all over the ship."
"A hundred?" He nodded and dragged the chair over under the hole in his ceiling. "Helmet on, Kandros, and into the duct." He crooked a talon at Martin. "Move." He returned to the closet and yanked on his gauntlets before sealing the armour up his arm. "A hundred mercs to take out thirty crew? Two stolen Archangel ships?" Perplexed, he gave his head a good, hard shake, as if that could settle the thoughts into the correct order.
"It's not just about me," he said, certainty steel-plating his words. "The ships are the key. If they wanted me dead, a bullet at any point in the last two cycles would have done it." He sealed his armour up his other arm as he talked. "They could have ripped down the shields and blown the Passch into pieces. No, they're after Archangel's most valuable resource, but it's not just me."
The picture solidified inside his head the moment before it sent his gut crashing down to slosh around in his boots. Shoving the helpless dread and nausea aside, he holstered Ingrid and his new assault rifle on his back. The gunfire outside continued as he stood next to the chair, laced his talons, and held them up for Martin to step into.
He shot a glance over his shoulder at Nyreen. "People see us doing what no one else is willing to. We've shaved the gangs down to twenty percent their previous numbers on Omega and cut crime to its lowest rate in the history of that damned rock. Not to mention putting a hell of a lot of slavers out of business."
Nyreen let out a rumble of understanding, but it was Martin who put voice to the issue as he clambered up onto the chair. "They're going to set Archangel up for the destruction on Tuchanka," the kid said as he stepped into Garrus's hand and hopped up to grab the edge of the panel.
Nyreen waved off the general's help, jumping up onto the chair, then springing easily to grab the duct. A quick swing and she disappeared feet first into the darkness. "So, we take out some turian troops, a hierarch, a general, and a bunch of innocent krogan," she whispered from above.
Snatching Shepard's picture from his pack, he stuffed it into his armour. "Archangel becomes public enemy number one."
"But only two of our ships are here." Martin looked back, waiting for direction. "Where are the rest of them?"
"Let's move. The gunfire is slowing, and I doubt it's because our people have taken out all the Suns." Garrus pulled the chair away from the hole in the ceiling. "Seal that up. Bear left to junction L-C-2 then right. At the next junction ... left." He acted out the directions as he gave them. "Ten metres along there is a ladder up. At the top take the branch to the right. Follow it around twenty metres or so. Another ladder up. Follow that shaft right to the hatch that will drop you down to the right of the elevator. I'll clear this deck then come up through the elevator. Be careful."
"You'll … what? Alone?" Martin asked, his whisper an arrow slicing past Garrus's head.
"I have Droney." He lifted his wrist a little. "Shepard's omnitool." Garrus sighed at the dagger that followed the arrow, and shrugged. Martin could flail him about clinging to Shepard much, much later. "Be careful," he said, his tone brooking no argument.
The two of them both glared at him, but then moved the panel back into place.
"Do you remember any of what he just said?" Martin whispered.
"Shut up and go that way."
Garrus directed a worried scowl at the ceiling—they were going to end up lost in the ducts for a week—then hurried to the door, listening. It sounded as though the fighting had moved to the crew quarters. If he knew his people, they'd retreated to cover, drawing out the Suns' line. If so, he had a good chance to clean up the stragglers and then hit them from behind.
Overriding Martin's hatchet job—the kid knew how to mess up a locking control—he popped the manual seal on the door then eased it open and peered through. The fight had indeed moved away from the center of the ship, leaving enough corpses in blue armour to force a furious grin onto his face. Shoving his shoulder into the door, he cued up the drone even as he pushed, waiting to activate it until he engaged.
He hadn't used Droney before … well, at least in combat. Sometimes he activated the stupid thing and just let it roam his quarters back at base or while on the Passch. It didn't make sense, but it felt like company without the intrusion of someone else trying to keep conversation going or making demands. Only Nihlus and his father managed to share the same space without making it arduous. Funny, that he still craved Shepard's company after two years despite … or perhaps because of … how arduous that company could be. She'd deny it, but she demanded everything … even in silence.
He peered around the door when he got it wide enough for his armour. Two Suns stood guard either side of the elevator, their backs to him. After spawning Droney right in front of them, he crept up behind the closest, dropping the turian silently, an omniblade shoved under his jaw. The drone shot rockets at the batarian on the other side, not as silent a diversion as Garrus would have hoped for, but his blade slipped in and ended the second merc's life before anyone came to investigate.
The rest of the back half of the deck was silent, so he ducked around the corner and headed for the port side crew quarters. Sporadic gunfire belched out from the other side. Behind him, he heard the chiming pop of Droney's timer running out. Why were the damned things timed anyway? Take enough damage, destroy them, sure … but … .
Focus, Vakarian. You're on a timer.
Taking cover on the blind side of the door, he palmed the control and sent Droney in ahead. When he heard the drone fire, he stepped through, his rifle firing a steady pattern of three as he took advantage of his few seconds of surprise. One eye glued on his shield indicator as projectiles ate away at it, he took stock of the situation. Putting down his second merc, Garrus counted fifteen Suns, none in cover, and at least two of his people crouched behind bunks.
"Friendly and drone just inside the threshold. Recog code beta! Hamster's favourite food?" he called. Another merc fell, his life leaking out onto the deck plating before Garrus finally had to duck down behind a couch. Not the best cover, bullets tore through the leather, punching past him. He glanced up over the back in time to see Droney take down a trooper. Two sentinels stood just outside the bunk room door. Damned tech armour. He really needed a set.
"Captain Munch cereal!" one of the Archangel soldiers called. She sounded young, wounded, and terrified. Still he heard an embarrassed sort of giggle follow the answer to his question.
Garrus shook his head. "Roger that." Another one of Shepard's ridiculous ideas, even if the random strangeness did make their recog codes almost impossible to fake. "Hold tight, I've got your back."
Cueing up an overload, he spotted the hotkey Shepard had set for his shield modification. Three hundred percent extra shields couldn't hurt. He tapped the interface, traded his rifle for his sidearm, and stood back up, striding forward, the pistol allowing him to close and finish them off with his omniblade.
The two soldiers popped out of of their hiding spots, hammering away at the mercs' backs as the Suns' turned to face the new, more deadly threat. As his overclocked shields failed, letting out a lightning-sharp crack, Garrus sent Droney to give his people some cover before he threw himself behind the pool table.
Five Suns remained. Garrus took a few deep, quick breaths to saturate his system with oxygen. His legs trembled, and every body part he owned ached. Crawling through the ducts suddenly seemed a very appealing option.
Okay, Vakarian. Five more bad guys. On three.
By the time he counted to three, his regular shields had returned, and he ducked around the base of the pool table, strafing the Suns' legs with rounds. They crashed to the floor, firing at his position, but he'd already launched himself over the table to finish them off.
"Clear!" he called, sagging against the pool table a little. Damn, he needed to get himself back in shape and fast.
"General." The one who'd answered his recog code gave him a weary but relieved smile. "Sure glad to see you, sir."
He pushed himself up and nodded toward the door. "Ready to help me secure the deck?"
They saluted and took position a couple of metres behind him, on his flanks. The rest of the sweep consisted of two mercs in the head, four outside the main battery, and two stationed outside medbay. He counted thirty eight dead mercs and twelve of his people as they made their way through to medbay. The door had been scrambled … Kandros, no doubt, to protect the doc.
He banged on the door and then called, "Dr. N'Alin, you alive in there?"
A reply came back in the form of muffled yelling and metallic banging. Garrus sighed. Sounded like Nyreen had stuffed the doctor into the medical locker. A mixture of respect and annoyance greeted that thought. Kandros didn't do anything by halves. He'd yet to decide if that was a good thing.
He looked to his two battered crew. "See if you can get in there. Pull the doctor out of her locker, get your wounds treated, then keep this deck secure." After returning their salutes, he strode for the elevator. "I'm going to lock down the elevator door, so stay alert, but you shouldn't have too many visitors."
Five minutes later he locked down the elevator at the CIC, ensuring that it wouldn't move without override codes, then tried his comms. Nothing. He hadn't expected to get through. As much as he detested everything the Blue Suns stood for, he maintained a healthy respect for their professional attention to detail.
Taking a deep breath, he cued up both the shield boost and Droney, then sent a vague prayer that Nyreen and Martin had made it through and awaited his attack. He opened the door and sent the drone to the far side of the space, but stayed in cover inside the lift. His visor showed nearly thirty red blips.
"That's a hell of a lot of bad guys!" Martin yelled even as Garrus heard the heavy clunk of his frame armour hitting the deck.
"Shut up, idiot, and get into cover," Nyreen snapped, her subvocals exasperated.
Relief flooded Garrus's bloodstream, cool and a little giddy, and he chuckled, grateful to have been spared twenty minutes of them sniping at one another. Somethings were so much worse than bullets. Peering out, he saw them dash to cover behind the XO console.
All right, time to get his ship back. He stepped out and opened fire. The Suns didn't even notice him until his overload tore down the nearest centurion's shields and tech armour. Droney went down in a flash of heat and force, it's detonation throwing the enemy onto their asses.
Martin and Kandros moved up, taking cover behind new consoles. Both of them had opted for their assault rifles, whittling down the heavily shielded Suns with impressive efficiency. Between shots, he caught the shields around Martin's frame armour flare. He thought about shouting a warning not to be stupid, but then the cooldown on Droney pinged. By the time he respawned the drone, Martin charged, a gun in both hands.
Damn, Kahri, the kid's gone and become an action hero.
Not having the advantage of the cutting edge armour, Garrus followed more sensibly, clearing the left hand side of the space from partial cover, moving up from console to console. Droney distinguished itself well, chalking up five kills with it's missiles. When they cleared the main deck around the galaxy map, he stepped out into the open.
"That's what … ?" He scanned the floor, pausing to put a couple of bullets through helmets. "... thirty more. Thirty eight on the crew deck. That could mean as many as thirty two more of these bastards." He nodded toward the side door to the cabins at the back of the deck. "Go clean out the war room and loop back through science and the computer core. I'll go up and clear the bridge and check the airlock."
He strode off without waiting for their reply. He needed a minute to regain control. Adrenaline surged through his veins making his pulse pound at his temples and throat—a drumbeat that called for revenge. It called to go back to the bodies lying on the ground and snap their necks with his bare hands. How dare they? How dare they invade his ship and kill people who wanted nothing more than to protect the galaxy from a terrifying doom?
And for nothing more than credits. Fucking, spirit-damned credits. As if even one of these people wasn't worth every blood-soaked coin the Suns had received.
Clenching his rifle so tight that his knuckles ached, he stalked up the center aisle. When he reached the stairs, he called out, "Anyone alive up there?" daring anyone to answer. When no one replied, he let out a sigh of combined regret and relief and launched Droney into the bridge.
Silence. Bracing himself, he climbed, sweeping the assault rifle back and forth. Two dead Suns, and one dead alpha shift pilot. He closed Pirelli's eyes, then leaned over her body, scanning the open monitors. Ship was still on course for Tuchanka.
Gunfire from aft spun him around. Once the ship was secure, he could worry about everything other than being shot in the back.
He cleared the airlock, then raced down to the door leading back to three small state rooms, a washroom, then the computer core and the science lab. Suns lay strewn down the corridor. Someone had gone down fighting hard. He picked his way through the tangle of corpses, finishing off enemy soldiers that still drew breath.
Black ice settled in his core; mercy a concept for other days and other places. As he waded through the carnage, he saw only two Archangel soldiers. They'd stood fast and acquitted themselves with honour and pride. No leader could have asked for more. And he would see every last Sun bleed for the cowardly ambush.
The right hand door at the end of the corridor opened, Blue Suns spilling out of the port-side head. They pushed and jostled one another, laughing as they imitated a woman begging for mercy.
The first one, a human by his voice, laughed and elbowed a turian by his side. "Let's get the rest of this deck cleared. Maybe we can find some more entertainment."
"Did you hear the way that bitch screamed? Almost enough to make you want to give her something to scream about," the turian said, his voice flanged, a callous rumble of disdain colouring his subvocals.
"No, I didn't hear her," Garrus said, spawning the drone at the end of corridor, just beyond them. "What did she sound like?" He opened fire, a cyclone roaring down on them with such force that they quailed, not even reaching for their weapons before he stepped over their bodies to mow down their comrades still inside the washroom.
He found L'Tsai laying propped up against the back wall. For a moment, the rage spilled over into a deep, rumbling keen that would have sent any turians who heard it fleeing for their lives. When he put two bullets in the last begging merc, her eyes flew open, and she scrambled backwards for a moment before her gaze latched onto the gold wings on the breast of his armour.
Crouching before her, he hesitated, trying to find words, then merely held out his hand. The fact that her armour appeared to be intact held his horror at bay despite its grip on his vocal chords.
She took his talons, her grip shaking but firm. "It's okay, General," she said, her voice hoarse and thick with phlegm. "They were saving me for later." She tugged against his grip. "Help me up. We have a ship to get under control."
Garrus stood, pulling her up with him. "Glad I got here in time." His arms jumped almost straight out, talons flailing a little when she stepped into him, slipping her arms around him to hug him tight. "Ahh … Captain?"
"I am too." Stepping back, she cleared her throat, her eyes glancing at his faceplate, then quickly away. "I need a gun." She shook her head and strode over to tear a Locust from the hand of a fallen, but still live merc. Three hard, vicious kicks to his head stopped his breathing and she stepped over him. "What still needs to be secured?"
"I sent Nyreen Kandros … ." He held up his hands, palms out to halt her question. "And Martin around the other way. They should be to the science lab by now." Sure enough, he heard gunfire, the sound muffled enough to be at least a couple of compartments away. He stepped up to the door into the computer core when L'Tsai turned to keep an eye on their backs.
The computer core stood empty. The Suns holding it must have either fled from the sound of their buddies in the head being taken out, or ran toward the comm room. Most likely the latter considering the relative tactical worth of the two rooms. He hurried through to the door as the gunfire heated up.
Before he overrode the lock down, Garrus shouted through. "Hey! Kandros! Kid! I'm on the other side of the science lab door and coming in." He bypassed the lock. "Don't shoot me."
Martin's laugh came back an octave too high and manic. "Roger that, General. Recog code gamma?"
"Illogical egg repair men," he replied, then added, "Seriously. Don't shoot me." He reached up to palm the control, but hesitated. "You sound like you're flipping your shit. You okay, kid?"
"All dead, General," he said as if it were an answer. Again that laugh. It crawled beneath Garrus's plates like maggots. Gunfire. "Well, almost all. Oh! All the king's horses."
Sucking in a deep breath, Garrus palmed the door control, taking cover against the wall as it slid open. A Blue Sun flew backwards through the portal straight into a hail of projectiles from L'Tsai's SMG. When he hit the floor, she opened fire into his helmet.
Garrus jumped away from the splashback. "Enough, Captain, you got him." He stepped over the pulped mess in the door and sent the drone in, distracting the Suns from what appeared to be three points of fire. When the last merc fell, Garrus strode straight over to Martin and grabbed the kid by the shoulders.
Martin didn't look up at Garrus, instead, he stared down at the blood covering his armour. He'd seen battle before, brought down mercs on Omega, but Garrus always held him back, keeping him in a sniper position and reporting the enemy's movements … an obvious choice given the kid's augmented vision and Garrus's promise to take care of him.
"You holding your shit together, kid?" Garrus asked, trying to get Martin to look up. "I still need you. We have to try to get around their comm lockout, or jamming … or whatever."
Martin nodded. "Not locked out, General." He gasped a little, a fish out of water. "They destroyed all the comm equipment in the war room. Even the QEC is obliterated. All personal comms are jammed." Finally taking a deep breath, the slack mask of shock lifted from the kid's face. "I might be able to jury rig something from the console on the CIC." He pushed past, grinning as he spotted L'Tsai. "Captain! Good to see you."
"And it's good to see you, General," a gravelly voice said from Garrus's right. Mi'khal limped around a biostatis unit, leaning heavily on Nyreen's shoulders. He nodded toward the tarin. "This one was sure you'd get yourself killed."
Nyreen rumbled deep in her throat. "Good thing he's as lucky as he is stubborn."
"I made it as far as the war room through the ducts," Mi'khal said, diverting the subject. "They changed our course, set it to ram the bomb site, General." He let out a shaky sigh, his hands doing a little, helpless flip. "Add the detonation of the Passch's drive core to that bomb, not even the evacuation site will survive. The blast radius will take out everything for five hundred klicks in every direction … the fireball, three times that."
Garrus nodded and turned to follow Martin, the thunderstorm brewing along his spine demanding release … satisfaction of some variety. "Then let's get this fucking ship under control." Back at the galaxy map, he opened the command console, trying to get a handle on what was going on. All sensors and communications remained dead. They needed to be able to talk back and forth if nothing else.
Ten minutes into the epic battle of general versus sabotaged systems, Martin gave voice and action to Garrus's frustration by punching the communications terminal. "Fuck, I can't break through their jamming on our personal comms."
"Aren't you supposed to be our resident expert?" Nyreen ran over and pushed in next to him, her talons poised just above the console. "I'm a sentinel, not an engineer. What am I looking at?"
"It's no use, Kandros. You can't toss a lift grenade at it." He pushed her aside. "If we had a day or two, I could fix it. We're down to just over two hours." Martin moaned and dove back into the station's guts. "We're so screwed."
Garrus scowled, helplessness rolled through his bones, churning into the fury until the volatile mixture formed a magma flow beneath his plates. "Stow the fucking bickering!" he snapped, then bit down on the rage, packing it down to simmer just beneath his plates. He took a deep breath through a tight throat. "We need to contact the planet. If we can't do it from here, we'll have to take shuttles out, get free of the jamming."
Absent-mindedly, he reached up to rub an itch on the side of his head only to smack his talons into his helmet. After staring at them a second, he let them fall back to the console. Even if both shuttles remained functional, they still had the Stinger and the other heavy frigate to contend with. How would they get past the other two ships?
Closing his eyes, he saw Victus's ships sitting in the orbit above the bomb site, his forces fighting on the ground … Herros and the rest of Victus's people trying to evacuate the krogan … Wrex charging the line of … no one … the Suns would pull back before detonation. Then the Passch entered the picture, streaking toward the surface, no one at the helm.
He opened his eyes, shoving the fear down next to his anger, covering both in thick layers of frost. His control needed to hold. "Forget the comms. Get down to the shuttle bay, clear it, secure it, and see if we can use the shuttle." Turning on L'Tsai and Mi'khal, he nodded for them to follow, then strode for the bridge. After three steps, the clock ticking down inside his head, throbbing alongside his pulse, threw him into double time. He took the stairs to the bridge in two leaps.
"What do you need to get this ship under control?" he demanded when the other two arrived. He helped the injured beta shift pilot into his seat, then loomed over him.
Mi'khal's fingers flew over the interface, flipping between screens, checking everything too fast for Garrus to keep up. "The systems are a mess. We aren't going to be able to fly her, the best we can do is disable her." The batarian glanced back. "The bridge is trashed. I might be able to get enough thruster control to steer us clear of the planet, but that's it. And, even that much will mean someone working down in engineering." He winced and shrugged. "I need to be here, and things would go a hell of a lot faster if the captain helped."
Garrus nodded. "On my way." He ran to the top of the stairs and glanced back. "How long until we reach Tuchanka?"
"One hundred and thirty-seven minutes."
He set his omnitool to countdown with ten minute warnings then bolted for the elevator. "You two seal yourselves in here. Who knows how many Suns we still have aboard," he shouted back.
"Yes!" Martin crowed as Garrus trotted down the ramp and circled around the galaxy map. "We have partial helmet to helmet comms." The kid stood and threw his arms in the air. "I'm a genius! They'll be patchy, but better than nothing."
Garrus grabbed him by the armour and shoved him toward the elevator. At least Kandros had obeyed his orders. "Excellent genius, but you failed to notice that your partner headed down to the shuttle bay alone. Get your ass down there and help."
Garrus hadn't thought anything could beat the Normandy's elevator for sloth until that trip down two decks accompanied by Martin's semi-hysterical fussing. Keeping his assault rifle trained on the doors, he counted the seconds, clinging to his temper and praying that he didn't have to stop and fight his way through thirty mercs. The lives of Wrex and General Victus's men depended on them getting away and sending a warning. That didn't leave time for fighting.
The images and nagging questions from Tuchanka flashed through his thoughts again. Had his father managed to evacuate Urdnot? Had Victus secured the bomb? None of it would matter if they didn't get a message to Tuchanka and stop the Archangel ships headed that way. All the Blue Suns needed to do was fire on that bomb and Archangel would become enemy number one on every world spinning. Good luck preparing for the Reapers then.
He shoved the what ifs from his mind as the doors opened, needing to focus on the task. Harder he concentrated, faster he would get the repairs wrapped up. Martin shouted something after him, but the doors closed, cutting it off.
More bodies lay strewn along the corridor, a good number of them wearing Blue Suns armour. Once again, the rage spawned a deep, vicious pride that his vastly outnumbered crew had gone down killing. The sheer number of bodies between the elevator and the door to engineering gave him hope that the dead had bought the engineering staff time to do something that helped him. He'd taken the basics during his time in the academy, but when he'd served, he'd always been at a console on the CIC, never in engineering making the damn thing run.
Sure could use you and your cereal-box-diploma engineering skills right now, Shepard.
He hesitated before palming the door control. Anything could be waiting on the other side. He checked his helmet seals and ran the repressurization cycle before palming the control. The door opened, a slight shift in the air rocking him a little.
He pulled his assault rifle from his back, grumbling yet again over its lack of heft. He really needed to convince Anderson to find him another Mattock. He chuffed at his own distraction and pressed close beside the door. Too much to expect that anyone survived inside. Still, only dead men rushed into a sealed cabin. Well ... dead men and Shepard.
He leaned out, the rifle following his scrutiny. Nothing moved. Still, he remained vigilant, eyes scanning constantly, searching out all the places an enemy could hide. Clear. Time to test Martin's comm repairs.
"Vakarian to bridge. I'm inside. Tell me what I need to do, L'Tsai." He hung his rifle up and strode toward the bank of consoles, offering up a prayer that the captain had studied her ship as rigorously as she claimed.
"L'Tsai here, General. Go to the power systems console. It's the second from the right," the captain replied.
Although he wasn't quite that clueless, he didn't waste air on telling her so, and just strode over. "I'm here. Now what?"
"Good news on the shuttle front," Nyreen broke through. "Both shuttles are functional. Guess they didn't expect anyone to survive the attack. Want to take one or both?"
"Both and heat up their weapons. Now stay off this channel, I'll be down in a minute."
Garrus heard the low whistle of an incoming blow a second before it connected, long enough to spin, deflecting the majority of the force with his shoulder. Grabbing the pipe with his other hand, he tore it from his assailant's hands and tossed it. Even as he gripped his attacker's armour, hauling them off their feet, he realized that he'd been attacked by one of his own people.
"Name?" he demanded, setting her down. Relief at finding someone else alive raced through him like a hot gulp of amarceru, comforting but slightly painful. He held her on her feet, her entire body shaking so hard he wondered how she managed to sneak up on him.
"Emily," she said, her voice squeaking out. "Um, I mean Second Lieutenant Emily Johnson, engineer second class."
"I'm General Vakarian, Emily. We've taken back the ship, and I'm very glad to see you." He lifted a hand to his radio. "L'Tsai, I was attacked by an engineer, Emily Johnson. I will now let you talk her through what you need." He released the engineer but remained poised to catch her if she keeled over.
"Aye, aye, sir. Patching through to her now." L'Tsai's channel closed.
"You okay, Emily?" he asked, watching her carefully as he backed up a step. "I'm going to fry the locks on the way out, so no one else will be able to get in. At least without a laser. Okay?"
She gave him a weak smile through the faceplate of her helmet and nodded. "Yes, sir, General."
He chuckled. "We're old friends now, Emily. You've tried to kill me. It's just Garrus."
Her laugh, high and mouse-like, settled the trembling in his own gut. One more life. Maybe others hid as well. The hope buoyed his spirits a little as he scrambled the lock on the first door.
Garrus had just finished sealing engineering behind him when he heard Emily let out a whoop of victory that he assumed meant the thrusters were under their control. He reached up to his radio. "L'Tsai, do you read me?"
"Barely, sir. Comms … patchy ... best. I ... Mi'khal on the bridge to keep … one connected," the asari said, the transmission cutting out for a moment as if to prove her point. "... the ship, we'll … likely lose you."
"It's okay." He strode for the elevator. "Don't deviate from this course until the last second. We're too wounded to fight back. The plan is to get Victus's ships to move in and take out our escort. The longer the enemy thinks the Passch is still under their control, the better." He hit the elevator control. "Do you copy that?"
"Yes, sir, maintain course as long as possible. Good luck … . L'Tsai out."
Garrus paced the elevator as it descended to the rear shuttle bay, trying to come up with a plan that got the shuttles past the Archangel frigates without being blown into tiny pieces of metal composite confetti. Any other ships, there'd be no problem, but Archangel ships could scan for their sister-ships' transponders. The Suns might not know that, but he wasn't willing to bet his life or Martin and Kandros's on it. The best shot they had was making themselves hard, high risk targets.
The elevator stopped, Garrus ducking into cover next to the door before it opened. "Vakarian on elevator," he called. For a breathless moment, no one replied. Would he have heard a gunfight through three decks if Kandros had walked into an ambush?
"Recog code zeta," Martin shouted back, and Garrus let out the breath he'd been holding.
Relief set his talons tingling. For a moment. Wait? Which code? His teeth ground together as his jaw clenched, annoyance flashing hot enough to vaporise iron. Zeta. Fuck. Garrus sighed then said, "How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" He really needed to stop letting Martin set the recog codes.
"Can a woodchuck chuck wood?" the kid returned, chortling to himself.
Garrus strode out of the elevator, hurrying past dead mercs to where the two shuttles sat side by side at the large hole in the hull. "Weaver and Kandros, you're together." Without waiting for confirmation, he turned toward the shuttle on the left, and without looking back, stepped inside and pulled the hatch closed.
Seating himself in the pilot seat, he strapped in and ran a quick check of the systems. "Ready to launch?" he called. "Let's stick together through this. When we're clear, stay glued to the hull and move toward the bow." He activated the prototype geth stealth drive, hoping that it would provide enough of an advantage to see them clear.
"That's a go for launch, General," Nyreen called through the comms, her voice broken and crackling with static. Still, it was enough for them to coordinate.
"Launch in ten … nine … eight … ." As he finished the countdown, Garrus tweaked the thruster fuel mixture and the inertial dampeners. He was going to need to be able to accelerate fast and push the shuttles' maneuverability past its tolerances. A fierce smiled lodged itself on his face, his emotions all calming, sharpening down into focus. Time to dance with death. "... three … two … one … launch." Lifting off, he sent the shuttle out the gaping breach in his ship's hull. Once clear, he swung it around to face the Passch's bow and set the VI to keep pace while he surveyed the situation.
Looking out along his flagship's broad underbelly, Garrus saw her two sister frigates, sleek and deadly, leading the way about ten klicks off her port and starboard bow. Looking down that narrow corridor of imminent death tweaked his memory, and he grinned. "Hey, Kandros … you ever do any stone brushing while you were at the Cipritine academy?"
The tarin chuckled. "I may have run the canyon walls once or twice, but I admit to knowing nothing about how my father's new Blackout ended up with its front end sticking out the rear panel." She sucked in a quick, sharp breath. "Are you thinking what I think you're thinking, sir? Because that's crazy."
Garrus laughed and opened the weapon interface, setting it for his right hand. "East or west wall, Kandros?"
"West." He could hear the manic, terrified excitement in her voice. "I'm left handed … need every advantage. This … madness, sir."
He nodded to himself. It was madness, but also their best chance to escape. "Target external weapon mounts," he ordered, entering a course that would send his shuttle darting along the starboard frigate's underside, skimming the surface too close for either enemy ship to risk firing on. As he started his count down, an old warrior's blessing ran through his mind. His first CO had said it prior to every engagement. It had never seemed more appropriate.
"May a praela carry you safely through battle, bathing you in blood that is not your own," he whispered. "And if it ends in fire, be waiting to welcome me home, Kahri."
(A-N: Thanks to my readers and reviewers. Just a quick note this time ... I am adopting a post them as they're ready policy, so if you aren't following, you might want to check and make sure there haven't been multiple updates. *hugs* to all who like the hugs. And thanks to Lachdannen for use of Emily ... a character from his main ME continuity. Thought I'd give her intrepid scaredy-cat-ed-ness a shout out. :D)