"Nuke 'em from orbit. It's the only way to be sure." - Flight Lieutenant Ellen Ripley, LV-426 (Acheron), July 24, 2179
Hadley's Hope, Feros, Theseus System, Attican Beta Cluster, July 10, 2183
There were times when Petty Officer (Second Class) Sara Elaine Ryder was glad that she wasn't in charge. Oh, it wasn't that she didn't want to be in charge. That would be nice, but she was more than smart enough to know that the higher one got, the thicker the politics became. And the thicker the politics, the stronger the need to throttle the shit out of someone's neck.
Case in point? Hadley's Hopes' resident buffoon-in-charge, Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Hulick.
The Marines of the Fourth Marine Expeditionary Unit had been on Feros for about a month, ever since the wake of Eden Prime. Deployed to guard the colonial mining town and the corporate colonial headquarters of the ExoGeni Corporation, a company that specialized in planetary exploration and colonization. Sara knew the name; they were in fact one of the first companies to fund Commander Jon Ulysses Grissom and his team to find habitable planets past the Charon Relay. When her father, Lieutenant Alec Clancy Ryder, landed on the first world found to have reasonably breathable air and decent environment, he named it Demeter and planted a flag upon the first world ever walked upon by a Human Being outside the solar system, forever labeling him 'the Pathfinder'. ExoGeni had been one of the companies to capitalize upon the effort and spread the propaganda to spark interests in space frontiers. Her Dad had actually worked for ExoGeni for more than a couple of years… and Sara actually had stock in the company thanks to her Dad investing in shares and placing them in a trust fund. ExoGeni was responsible for the creation of Hadley's Hope and the colonization of Feros, obvious here to monopolize and cash in on any Prothean discoveries on a planet covered in Prothean ruins, singing songs about mineral wealth and Eezo rushes to clueless would-be miners who would be pawing at the ground for months if not years for scraps while the corporation raked in billions. That was just the way the galaxy ran.
Until someone went and put a Marine in charge, and said Marine instituted martial law.
"So, let me get this straight," Captain Jane Catherine Shepard was rubbing at the bridge of her nose, obviously fighting something off; a headache or the need to throttle someone. "You instituted martial law on an entire colony before everything went to shit without any orders or directives doing so. The colony's infrastructure is fucked because said civilians you are oppressing were in the middle of revolting against you because you're a heavy-handed cunt who used five hundred Marines to stamp around on a thousand civilians' rights? And then the Geth show up? How am I doing so far?"
Colonel Hulick looked fit enough to chew through a block of depleted Eezo. But she didn't say a word for two very good reasons.
"Now we've got Geth here, and you're fighting a two-sided front; the synthetics who want to kill you, and the people who want to kill you and have every right to do so." Auntie was about a centimeter from the Marine Commanding Officers' face, her voice scathing as they practically bumped noses. Sara knew what was wrong. Oh, more so than the multiple violations of the Systems Alliance Charter pertaining to the duties and abilities of the Military while on colonies. As a safeguard against oppression and tyranny, the Systems Alliance Navy and Marine Corps didn't have any kind of powers on colonies except in a time of war or when martial law was instituted. But martial law was invoked by a colonies' Frontier Marshal, who was nowhere in sight, either. Hadley's Hope didn't have a Colonial Army detachment or an Air Force one, being too small, but had garrisoned a small militia from the population. They too were nowhere in sight. Add in the fact that there wasn't enough food to feed the people on Hadley's Hope (the Marines had supplies but weren't sharing), enough water (again, no sharing), the power had been not only shut off but the power core removed, it all looked to be like someone got a little too much power in their head and began running a military dictatorship. It had shitstorm written all over it in broad strokes.
There was barely any supplies to be had from the shattered Fourth and the Tenth Reconnaissance Flotilla, only enough to feed the remaining Marines for a week before resupply came. There was certainly no more Marines to be had, either.
The last time Sara had seen Auntie this mad was… well, back when Detective Garrus Vakarian was carrying her back after being missing for a week after the Red Harvest Incident. Sara thought Auntie was going to murder Garrus on the spot.
"Marshal Collins? Arrest this piece of shit in front of me for multiple breaches and violations of the Charter and get it out of my sight soonest." Auntie was pissed; really pissed. Pissed enough to pull a gun and shoot the Colonel in front of her in front of God and Alliance Marines. The entirety of TEAM LION was there in front of the Space Traffic Control Tower, as well as about a dozen or so Marines. No one was doing or saying anything because Captain Shepard outranked Lieutenant Colonel Hulick not only by rank in the Systems Alliance Military, but due to the fact that even they knew that she was Humanity's First SPECTRE and thus a bad idea to cross the Lion of Elysium. Federal Marshal Samantha Lynn Collins had no issues complying as she drew her Smith and Wesson Model 696 MA Revolver at a speed that all Sara saw was blur as the buntline barrel was pointed right at the Colonel in question, very red in the face and seemingly chewing her own tongue before saying anything that would cross that very thin, very dangerous line. No one was on the Colonels' side, and everyone knew it, including the woman in question.
"You know the drill, LC." Sam drawled as her right hand produced a pair of SnapCuffs, the Mammothkiller never wavering at all. "You and I are going to have a nice little chat inquiring the whereabouts of the Marshal of Feros and her Deputies." Ouch. Colonel Hulick hadn't been too happy to see Sam Collins with a Turians' clan markings all over her face. Ryder had a good idea how that conversation would go; unpleasantly. The Butcher wasn't very gentle when she approached the woman and forcibly turned her around, reaching and grabbing a thumb and wrenching the Marines' arm behind her back in a standard arresting procedure. "Other arm, or I break fingers. You won't be needed them anytime soon." The Corpsman winced but said nothing.
Colonel Hulick had done worse to the populous of Hadley's Hope. Ryder had no remorse whatsoever.
Lieutenant Colonel and Marshal leaving the area of the Space Traffic Control Tower, Jannie took a big breath and sighed, looking at the people around her. Most were TEAM LION, but there were several who were not. The Marines just watched their Battalion Commander get arrested right before their eyes, and some of them had been complicit in her orders, while others had done so to avoid judicial or non-judicial punishment. Jannie had every reason to be mad; this was a fucking mess.
"Lieutenant Vega!" Shepard called out, and a hulk of a Marine came forward, cradling a Devlon Industries' M-56 Marshal Medium Machine Gun in a carrying position, vertical with the barrel pointed down. He had been working in the Tactical Operation Center with the Colonel as the Battle Captain. "El-Tee, I need to know what we've got for command structure, forces, food distribution, water distribution, power and supplies. In that order."
"Ma'am, I can answer all of those in just one word; shit." The bulky Latino man replied, shaking his head. "We've got a wounded Captain with a headshot he hasn't woken up from, some First Lieutenant who rants and screams gibberish most the time, and two Second Lieutenants, which I'm one o' 'em." Shit, they were suppose to have a Lieutenant Colonel, a Major, four Captain, six First Lieutenants, and ten Second Lieutenants at the very least, probably a couple more for other command positions that didn't involve running Marine Companies. "We got a hundred and fifty vertical, and seventy-five horizontal. Rest ain't comin' back, ma'am." Half of the Marines were dead. "Been trying to treat the wounded, but…" Vega's eyes darted to Sara for a moment. "You're the only one with Corpsmen, ma'am. Rest died saving their Marines."
"Fuck." Shepard let off a sigh, shaking her head sadly. Sara felt her heart grow cold at that. Every Marine Platoon had a Corpsman, and there were two Platoons per Company. The Fourth Expeditionary should have at least ten, probably plussed up with a few Hospital Corpsman for an on-site Dispensary for the smaller things. Ryder had went to the Field Medical Training Battalion in Fort Richardson, Alaska with a class of fifty. Her heart ached at the thought that she might have known some of them. Died saving Marines, Lieutenant Vega had said. They had done their duty, but had died doing so.
"Ma'am?" Sara stepped in, knowing where he place should be. "Let me render assistance. Doc Nugee is good, but this would likely overwhelm her." Ryder knew that the colony of Hadley's Hope wasn't the main effort; it was whatever the Geth sought. "I've trained just about every member of TEAM LION to bring them up to speed on their own species, and gone over the basics for the sapients we do have, more than enough to keep someone alive during a crucial time. If we left these men and these colonists without any medical provider whatsoever…" Jannie frowned, but slowly nodded her head.
"You're right, Doc." The Lion let out a sigh, knowing what had to be done. "Lieutenant Vega, I am leaving you in charge of the colony and its defenses. You were good enough to be the Battle Captain…"
"Um…" The large Latino man looked a little sheepish. "Actually, Colonel was shit-canning me. Insubordination." Shepard just looked at him with her green eyes never blinking. "Didn't join to smack civilians around. Adios, too." He jerked his head towards a female Corporal who was also at sling-arms with a M-56 Marshal. "She got mouthy when the Colonel asked us to force the civilians into the main building, refused. Most of us you see here," James looked to the Marines that were around TEAM LION, "had issues with the treatment. Refused, told the Colonel to fuck off, that kind of thing." James shook his head. "We got sent to babysittin' duty while she was going to frag us with Court-Marshals and then had the rest of the Marines use force to get the miners and civilians into the main building. That… did not go well."
"How many?" The SPECTRE asked, pinching the bridge of her nose. Her tone sounded exhausted, and Sara's heart went out to her.
"Forty-two dead, another thirty-one wounded for the civilians." Vega replied, his tone disgusted. "That was because some dingbat decided to fuck with the atmospherics in our temporary billets, ma'am. Yeah, destruction of colonial property and all… but that ain't worth using bullets on unarmed men and women, even during a time of martial law, proper or not."
"Jesus, can anything get fucking worse here?" The redhead shook her head. "Lieutenant Vega, under the authority given to me by the Systems Alliance as well as the Council of Law, I pardon you and whomever you think worth it of said charges. Take command of the colony and its defenses, and I'll leave you with authority to do as you see fit as long as it is something closely considered right and proper. This is a time of war, so there's no need to shoot the very people we're suppose to protect unless they're about to do something really fucking stupid that gets others killed. Understood?
"Yes, ma'am!" There was fire and passion in his voice as Vega almost saluted, but quickly changed to rubbing his head along his short hair. One wasn't suppose to salute on the battlefield to disguise the chain-of-command against wartime assassination. It seemed impossible, but he seemed to stand even taller, Sara noted with some amusement, as if he wasn't already closer to being twenty centimeters taller than herself. "You goin' out to fuck up Geth?"
"Whatever the Geth objective is, it isn't here. Otherwise everyone would be dead." Auntie replied, making the Lieutenant nod. "These pushes were merely to keep your men in place while the rest of the Geth forces sought out whatever it is they want. We're going to action to it and take it for ourselves, or deny it from them forever. In the meantime, I am going to leave you some key personnel to help your situation Lieutenant. Can't afford much, but I'm going to give you what I can. Doc Ryder and Marshal Collins will stay here for the obvious reasons; you need someone who can help the wounded, and Marshal Collins can help get the people into a better state of mind and hopefully something resembling the right direction. I'm also going to leave you two high-caliber riflemen that are also snipers; Sergeant First Class Ashley Williams, and Agent Zevin Raeka. Utilize them to get your men and the colony back on its feet, Lieutenant."
"Make a suggestion, ma'am?" Vega jerked his head once more.
"Take Adios wit' you."
Sara watched as Captain Shepard looked to the female Marine in question, who looked a little uncomfortable with being singled out, a cigarette dangling from one hand.
"She didn't participate in any o' the mierde. Plus, she's the finest gunner we got." Vega continued. "She's been on Feros for a month, has done foot patrols, knows the area, knows the traps, and knows the sinkholes. If you can't trust the electronics, then you're gonna need a guide to get you where I think you're headin'. Vasquez is a good scout, smart, tough, and takes shit off o' no one. 'Sides," James shrugged his shoulders, "she owes the Geth. Why waste the opportunity?"
"You want in?" Auntie asked the Latina, who merely snorted and tossed the cigarette to the ground.
"I only need to know one thing, ma'am." Corporal Vasquez said as she patted her Marshal lovingly.
"Where they are."
Sergeant First Class Ashley Madeline Williams watched as the General Dynamics' M35 MAKO Armored Personnel Vehicle took off towards the east, heading towards one of the on-ramps that would lead towards a massive ruins of a Prothean supercity in that direction, where supposedly the ExoGeni Corporation had made its headquarters and base camp for their portion of the colonization effort. The destination was something like a hundred kilometers away, which struck the Colonial Soldier as odd; why have a headquarters and a spaceport so far apart? Any corporate personnel coming to Feros would have to come through Hadley's Hope, the only spaceport in the entire damn planet since it was one of the very few locations large enough and stable enough to place a small colonial effort on. Ash was surprised to learn from one of the Marines that Hadley's Hope was actually on solid ground; that shocked her for a moment.
How fucking far up were they when Williams took that to mean that they had built a colony on top of a mountain?
"Ashley?" The Soldier turned at the sound of Agent Zevin Raeka's voice, seeing the female Salarian not-Dalatrass approaching her casually, her dark eyes sweeping everything as they stood in the 'middle' of the town, the main boulevard for the colony of Hadley's Hope. The drilled and bulldozing equipment that would normally clutter a construction area (in which the whole town looked to be one) had been used to make the walls to protect the town, and the Marines hadn't been shy in using the heavy equipment as part of the walls themselves, heavy scoops and large mechanical vehicle bodies serving as defenses. Ash would have loved to gone into battle driving some of those pieces of heavy machinery, riding in like the cavalry of old in a thirty ton bucket-driver or bulldozer. A vision of flattening Geth while cackling with glee put a small smile to her face as she shook off the vision and paid attention to the Salarian. "Lieutenant Vega is reworking the manning roster?" Ash knew what that meant, though Raeka obviously didn't judging by the tone of her voice. "He said the civilians were enclosed in the Colonial Quarters of the main building, giving the people billets. While he would like to open the door and give a peek inside…"
"Yeah." As she understood it, the Marines of the Fourth Expeditionary had crushed the civilians here on Hadley's Hope, practically taking over and installing a military dictatorship overnight. She didn't doubt that there was more to the story than that; some resistance and loud voices on the behalf of the population, a Frontier Marshal that probably didn't exactly play ball, a few drunken losers who probably thought Marines would make a good impromptu dartboard for their drunken aggression or sexual advances. Eden Prime had its charm between the people of Constant and the Eden Prime Colonial Army, sometimes tempers popping off or things escalating to bad levels. All one had to do was look in a history book to see that Humanity and authority didn't exactly mesh to well to a certain extent. It was a sad note to see that sometimes a civilian populous would turn on its very defenders and protectors for the dumbest of reasons.
Of course, the opposite was also very true, too. It was in those very same history books, after all.
Williams knew what 2nd Lieutenant James Vega was worried about, and he wasn't without cause. A thousand civilians had been pushed and locked into the main colony building of Hadley's Hope somewhere around a week ago… at gunpoint, with gunfire. Cracking the door open would likely show nine hundred pissed-off civilians spoiling for a fight when the defenders had a hundred and fifty who were trying to defend the colony against the Geth. It was almost a better idea to keep them indoors; they would be protected, out of the line of fire, and not doing anything stupid. Unfortunately, that was where tyranny started, and who was to say when things would blow over? It could be another week or so, and the civilians had only been given about ten days' worth of food and water. Expecting a bunch of angry people to distribute food and water evenly and rationally was like asking a sun not to be hot during a summer season.
"Doc has a solution."
"Of course." Williams smiled, thinking about Doc Sara Ryder. That girl had a solution for practically everything. Pity she was taken in a committed relationship, but Ash respected that. Sara was alone in that, the Soldier admitted to herself.
"There is a radio communication protocol to the main building in which Colonel Hulick had shut down." Raeka said, and Ash was already beginning to fill in the blanks. "Sara wants to open a dialog, explain what's going on, find out appropriate requests from the civilians while reminding them that this is an active warzone and staying in the main building is certainly of better choice than being out in the open." It also had the added benefit of not opening the door to a mob; that went unsaid, but it hung between them. "Sam will be there, and the Marshal said she will act in the civilians' behalf, explaining to them the situation and scenarios so to limit confusion, panic, and hopefully any terrible decisions."
"There will be issues, but that's about as good a plan as any." Williams would be hard-pressed to come up with better. Hell, knowing how smart Sara was, and likely Sam, despite being a cowboy cop, was likely nearly as smart with a great deal of experience along these lines, to boot, Ash doubted she'd ever come up with anything better. "I got some smoke configurations and a couple of incapacitates configurations for my grenades in case things go a little sour. Not a fan of it, but I'd rather tear gas someone and apologize later than have to shoot someone while they're rioting." Raeka's nictitating eyelids blinked twice.
"You've done this before." The Salarian voiced, her tone neither accusatory or demeaning. That was nice, but damn the Salarian for being so observant. What did she expect out of a STG Agent? Not to read a Human?
"Yeah. Not a fun-filled subject I'd like to get into." The Colonial Soldier replied, wishing she wasn't reminded of an incident about four years back. She had seen riots before; they never ended well, and the result was always ugly.
"I understand." The not-Dalatrass replied, nodding her head respectfully. "In response to your use of non-lethal grenades, I also have non-lethal measures if required; a very minor neural toxin that will render a subject unconscious for several hours in a painless sleep. It comes in a dart delivery system I programmed myself." There was a hint of pride there, Ash noticed. Well, Raeka was pretty much a soldier-spy, wasn't she? She found a way to take down targets without killing them. Williams wasn't going to ask why when she had shut the door for the question towards herself. "The Marshal and Ryder are going to be heading towards the compound, and I believe it to be a good idea if we were to watch over them. The last thing we need is a hostage situation." Yeah, no kidding. If the Skipper found out someone had kidnapped Sara and did anything to her? She'd go absolutely apeshit, and there was really very little anyone could plausible do to stop her, legally or even morally. Hostage-takers were generally killed on the spot for very good reasons, and Ash doubted anyone wanted to find themselves on the wrong side of a gun with the Lion of Elysium ready to pull the trigger if she thought you were just better off dead. The Skipper was a good woman, no doubt in Williams' mind, but when it came to family?
Everyone went a little crazy.
"Where's Doc and Marse at now?"
"Marshal Collins has finished interrogating the Colonel." The Salarian replied, and Ash winced a little, not wishing to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. The Marshal of Feros, one Teresa Aquila, and her seven Deputies were nowhere in sight, and 2nd Lieutenant James Vega had admitted that the Marshal and her men had been deposed during the first week of the Marines' arrival. According to new Commanding Officer of the Fourth Marine Expeditionary Unit, the Marshal and her Deputies had been loaded onto a shuttle at gunpoint after Marines had stacked-and-breeched the Marshal's Office and captured them all, dumping them off in some location nearly a hundred kilometers away in a region known as 'the Quagmire', known for its crumbling ruins and threat of building collapse amongst the near planetary-wide Prothean city. Likely, they were dead from lack of surprise or the many hazards that existed on Feros. Sam had not been happy to hear that at all, and Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Hulick didn't realize that Sam Collins was a Level Two Clandestine-Level Council Agent; the Colonel could be brought up on charges under the Uniformed Code of Military Justice or the Council Law of Sapient Rights. Neither would go well for her. While the Butcher didn't have the all-inclusive 'Council Authority' card that the Skipper had, she certainly had a lot of leeway.
"Doc Ryder is looking upon the Marine casualties, working on the ones she said would be fit-for-duty first before moving onto the more injured of your kind." What Raeka didn't mention was that there were no more real 'critical' casualties. With no Naval Surgeon, Navy Corpsman, or even civilian Health Care Provider on-hand, many Marines had died without anyone with extensive knowledge to care for their wounds. First Aid courses and Combat Life Saver courses were oriented towards stopping bleeding and a few other life-saving techniques to get a man to a MEDEVAC or a Corpsman or Medic who were much more qualified. But pierced lungs, internal bleeding, shattered bones, and tourniquet limbs needed proper medical attention and intervention, and none were to be had. Hundreds had died of their wounds without any care. It was heart-wrenching. "I believe Marse is with Doc." Ash noted that the not-Dalatrass had adopted the Human terms, calling a Marshal 'Marse', an old-Earth term to mean the Master of Property, and calling Petty Officer Ryder 'Doc' after her profession. Well, it wasn't like Ash hadn't picked up a term or two from the Turian sniper Detective Garrus Vakarian or their resident STG Agent. Thanks to Niki'Raan nar Reyya, Williams could swear pretty damn well in Kheelish, too.
"Well, let's link up with them." The Sergeant First Class tipped her head towards the location that the Marine casualties were kept; the bar, of all places. It had been the largest singular room location in the colony, it was in the center of town, and no one (civilian or Marine) was missing the neon sign displaying 'BAR' over its door, with tiny neon letters 'and grill' underneath, as if in afterthought. Pity it wasn't open; Ash could use a drink. Instead, she stuck an Eden Prime Classic in her mouth, lighting the end of her cigar with her OmniTools' heating App, puffing a few times to get the stogie going as the Salarian watched her, completely unreadable. Probably thought dirty thoughts about the habit. Williams did a quick tap-check of her weapons (as was her habit) to make sure everything was in its proper place and mag-lock'ed appropriately before heading down Hadley's Hope sole boulevard, the main road graced by swat two-story buildings on either side with a few covered overpasses stretching over the ten meter-wide street for both people and loading equipment to use. The boots of her Rosenkov Materials' Titan Heavy Armor thumped through the dusty unpaved street, seeing a few surviving Marines positioned on the roofs of the various buildings as overwatch, keeping an eye out for any Geth advances and to direction Quick Reaction Forces towards any fighting. Skipper had put them here to give Vega a hand (which Ash completely got) but the situation was fifty shades of ugly, no doubt about it. Civil oppression was an ugly scenario to walk into, and there was generally no great way to deal with it, just a series of bad decisions one prayed would be less terrible then the rest. Ash didn't envy the Lieutenant at all. She'd rather face a Battalion of Geth than deal with the politics and fallout of a Charter Violation.
Williams reached the BAR with Agent Zevin in tow, the Salarian wisely keeping to her Human shipmates on the Human colony, the Colonial Soldier noting more than a few Marines eying the Salarian as she marched right behind Ash, their faces suspicious and distrustful. Ash wanted to blister their asses with verbal abuse, reminding them of whom had shot unarmed civilians during a time of war, their own civilians. Raeka didn't earn nor deserve the looks…
…shit, Ash realized that she would get face-to-face with a Marine for the sake of an alien.
Just over a month ago, she would have called herself a race traitor. Now?
I fight with them, I eat with them, I joke and shoot the shit with them, Williams thought to herself as she headed towards the Hadley's Hope's Bar and Grill, giving her cigar a thoughtful puff. I've fought off assassins with them, a bar full of scum, Geth and Husks. A year ago, I would have never worked alongside a Krogan or a Turian.
Now?
I'd kill for any one of them. I'd die for any one of them.
Maybe Sara was right; Humanity could stand to grow up a little.
Federal Marshal Samantha Lynn Collins (SAMS, OST) held the hand of a Private of the Systems Alliance Marine Corps, the young man whimpering as she kept his head looking towards her blue Autistic eyes, an eighteen year old kid whimpering hard, calling out for his mother. She held his hand, saying soothing words as if any were actually soothing, as if there were any real words to be said. The Marine, the nametag on his Aldrin Labs' Onyx Interceptor Armor saying 'James' but the kid saying his first name was Frank, was trying to hold back the tears, knowing what was happening but Sam keeping him from looking as the Angel plied her bloody trade; an act any battlefield surgeon or medic would know well in wars and battles in the years and centuries prior. Petty Officer (Second Class) Sara Ryder was hard at work, her attention completely on the task at hand, the Angel never letting her emotions take over, ignoring all around her. Sam's heart went out to oh-so-young woman who reenacted the old term for a battlefield surgeon; Sawbones.
She was amputating the Marine's right arm. Sam was holding his left hand.
The Marine whimpered again, the local anesthesia numbing any pain he might have felt but never numbing the sound of metal rasping against flesh as Ryder used a series of tools for the job, the arm tourniquet above the wound that had gone septic; even Collins knew the sight of gangrene. The young man had a bullet pierce through his armor and arm, the round shattering his humerus bone as it went in and out. Fragments of armor and bone pierced through the meat of his arm, dozens of splinters that had opened up his arm and torn through flesh and sinew, exposing the interior of his arm to the dusty, foreign environment of Feros. Even on Earth, sepsis and biological contamination were a realistic concern. But on a planet that Humans hadn't evolved on, foreign contamination took on a scarier bent. While might have taken days or weeks could take hours or less on a planet like Feros. Less than two days after being shot, Private James had developed gangrene, and there was only one cure even in the late 22nd Century; removal of limb.
Sara was using a pair of forceps and and a tissue knife to surgically cut through flesh and sinew as cleanly as she could. She was humming a song as she worked, to cover the noise of her work, perhaps for herself or for her patient, an old Earth Country and Western song that even Sam knew. The bone-handled knife went down as Sara finished cutting through the bicep muscle, taking the forceps and a thin blade for the ligaments. As the Marshal understood it, the bone was saved for last. Ryder continued to hum as the Marine whimpered, forced to look at Sam as the Council Agent too began to hum to the tune over two hundred years old, made popular once more by colonization efforts by Human Beings. The words came to her, and Sam began to sing softly.
"Blue Ridge Mountain, Shanandoa River," the Marshal sang softly, the Marine looking to her with brown eyes threatened with tears as Sara continued to cut, "life is older there, older than the trees. Younger than the mountains, blowing like a breeze." The Marines' hand tightened around hers, gripping her tight as his words were added to hers.
"Country roads, take me home,
To the place I belong.
West Virginia, mountain momma,
Take me home… country roads."
Sam put a smile on her face, listening to James' voice warbling as she saw Chief set down the thin blade and pick up a saw; the final cut. Sam kept her eyes dry, thinking of her bondmate as she sang softly, holding onto the Marine as she did. They had all lost something, yet she would be strong for this Marine, in his moment of need as his right arm was removed expertly. Collins didn't look as she saw in her peripheral that something had in fact been removed; no, Frank didn't need to know. Sara had cut so that there were two flaps of skin for her to sew over the stump as she began to close the skin up, stitching the wound close to prevent any further loss of limb or blood. Ryder knew her trade well, and war had given her cause to practice her craft in a way that most didn't want to know. Yet the Angel did so without complaint, showing the kind of woman she really was. God bless her.
"I hear her voice in the morning hour as she calls me," Sara began to sing, showing that she did indeed have a pleasant voice, "the radio reminds me of my home far away. Driving down that road, I get a feeling," the Angel continued to sew as she sang softly for the Marine Private as he whimpered, "that I should have been home yesterday… yesterday."
Another voice added to the choir as Sam looked up from where she sat, seeing Sergeant First Class Ashley Williams standing over Sara, her own brown eyes looking to the Marine and not the grisly task. All four of them sang as STG Agent Zevin Raeka stood sentinel silently in the Bar-turned-Casualty Collection Point, filled with too many brave men and women.
"Country roads, take me home,
To the place I belong.
West Virginia, mountain momma,
Take me home… country roads."
"Take me home… that country road…" Private Frank James said softly, finishing the song as he finally passed out, heartache and exhaustion getting to him as Collins gently pressed a pair of finger just under the corner of the jaw, just south of the mandibular joint where one could find the pulse in the carotid artery. She was glad to note that she could feel the thrumming of a heartbeat there, strong enough that she didn't have to guess or count, though her Autistic mind did automatically.
"Passed out. Poor kid." The former Marshal of Therum said to Doc Ryder as she continued to sew, halfway done closing up the Marines' stump, her blue eyes touching Sam's for the briefest of moments before going back to her work, chopsticks and needle in her hands. "Why that song?"
"When I was a kid growing up on the Cit," Sara began, pulling thread, "I was scared of the Keepers. They're big spider-like creatures that live on the Cit, a part of the maintenance and reclamation process. One day, you'll go somewhere and they'll have rearranged the furniture or added something to the Cit walls or floor for whatever program or biological process controls them. I guess when I was a little girl, I woke up one night to a Keeper in our bedroom," ah, that's right, Sara had a twin brother, "and that fear never left me. Whenever I got afraid at night that I'd wake up to a Keeper in my room, my Dad would come in, and… and he'd sing that song to me until I fell asleep in his arms." There was a ghost of a smile on Sara's face, a memory she was happy to hold onto. "My first trip to Earth, we went to West Virginia where my father had been born. Saw his old college Marshall, the mountains… forests as far as the eye could see." The thread was tightened once more. "I remember waking up early one morning and walking out of the log cabin we rented and… it was like being transported back to the 18th or 19th Century. You'd never known we'd sail the stars or colonized other worlds in the Blue Ridge Mountains. I kinda hated it as a kid, wishing for that eternal day of the Cit with its white walls and aircars, but now…"
"Heritage." Williams coined up, nodding from above Ryder's shoulder. "Believe me, I kinda wish I could go back to Sirona and kick around the old block where me and my sisters grew up. Squat little apartment on an Enlisted Sailors' paycheck and my mom being a nurse at a local hospital. Still… kinda like to knock on the door and see who lives there now. What about you, Marse? Where's home?"
"Neo Hong Kong." Ash grimaced as the Colonial Soldier remembered that Marshal Sam Collins was a First Contact War survivor at the age of two, parents and home lost to war. What Williams didn't know was that Sam knew for a fact she hadn't been born 'Sam Collins'; she had been given the name by none other than Sara Ryders' father when he and his team had found survivors of a kinetic strike on a school where refugees and taken refuge. Lieutenant Alec Ryder had handed the little girl to a sailor named Mary Collins at the time, and Mary had adopted the little girl as her own during the war. Sam had been named by the Pathfinder after his mother. She briefly wondered if Sara knew that the Marshal was named after her grandmother.
"Well, I'm done here." Sara exclaimed as she wiped the sweat from off her brow with the back of one of her wrists, shaking her hands out. "Couple more dozen to go, but thankfully James here was the worst of the borderlines. Give me a couple of hours and I should be able to have about a third of the Marines back on their feet in some form of light duty. Hate to think what condition the civilians are in."
"That's where we'd plan on going next." Collins' felt the same way Sara did; those civilians had been sequestered inside a building for seven plus days by gunpoint, supplies thrown in and locked inside. On the flip side, Sam was pretty damn certain that opening that door would be opening a can of worms no one wanted to open, nine hundred angry civilians who had every right to be mad, but at the worst time possible. The longer they waited, the worse the situation would get and more of the blame would be heaped upon their own heads. A Catch-22 no one wanted to catch.
Well, no one said being a cop was an easy gig.
Petty Officer (Second Class) Sara Ryder was working on her twentieth Marine when she heard the sound of an old-school sound of an air raid siren howling outside of the Hadley's Hope Bar and Grill, disinfecting a would and suturing it closed as she looked to Agent Zevin Raeka, who was acting as her assistant. With so many patients and only one of her, there was certainly more people than she had time, and likely more wounds than she had supplies in stock. Sara had the supplies of the fallen Navy Corpsman on-hand in the Bar and Grill to use as well, but the Marines had attempted to try and save their friends with what they could find, and had a done a rather piss-poor job of supply management, using the wrong items and generally three times as much as was needed. And no surprise, the narcotic painkillers were all gone. Once Ryder ran out of her own supply, wounds would be felt in full force, both actual and medicinal. God forbid if she had to cut someone up to remove debris with them conscious and feeling it. No one wanted to perform emergency surgery on a fully-conscious patient screaming in agonizing pain.
"I will see what is happening." The Salarian not-Dalatrass offered, standing up to her two meter height, her dark eyes sweeping over everything. The Bar and Grill-turned-Casualty Collection Point was a Goddamn joke; who the fuck ordered their Marines to turn a bar into an impromptu hospital? It was filled with injured Marines who had no real medical care in a colonial drinking establishment meant for miners and frontiersmen. It didn't shock her that the Bar was somehow completely empty of its stock of beer and booze. Hopefully, someone got smart and locked it up somewhere. Sara wasn't holding her breath, though.
"Thanks, Dhor'rele. An glak nu bak mor." Ryder told the Salarian, reminded that she had once gone to the Academy with Raeka's younger sister, Zevin Yalis, heir to their mothers' authority. Sara had replied in the Salarian dialect of Mannaovi, Raeka's mother tongue, to keep her eyes open. The Special Tasks Group Agent nodded once in acknowledgment as she pulled her Kassa Fabrications' M-55 Argus Battle Rifle from the magpoints of her Armax Arsenals' H-Series Predator Heavy Armor and headed out of the Bar as Sara went back to work, suturing a wound that was a laceration of some kind, infected from poor care on the Marine Private First Class's part. He had likely gotten cut during the heat of battle, tearing through his ballistic-weave combat undersuit and thinking nothing of it at the time. Unfortunately, lack of attention and the constant fights meant that it had stayed exposed to Feros' environment and had gotten an infection, though thankfully nothing a little penicillin couldn't fix. There was a tinge of green at the edges of the cut, but no necrotic tissue at the sight; signs of gangrene, but no other evidence. She would monitor the cut over the next few days, to see if the tinges grew or not. Hopefully it was the sign of a native infection and not a strain of bacteria like MRSA or Staphylococcus that was a scare to both patient and provider. There were something like seventy patients in the Bar, ranging from infections, inflammation, wounds, and general sickness. Sara would need the MedBay of a Carrier to work upon the amount of patients that she had. Sadly, she had actually worked on more than seventy patients a day on more than a few occasions in her life, though many of those instances were on the Cit where Skybulance-37 had its carriage stuffed full of resupply and the ability to shuttle patients to the PresGen Hospital with Flight Officer Kaius Contenus at the stick, flying like a bat out of hell.
Sara certainly had her work cut out for her.
Finished with the PFC with the cut, Ryder moved to the next patient; a Marine Sergeant who had suffered a shot to his helmeted head and hadn't woken up very cognitive. Idiots had let someone with a concussion sleep with a head injury, and the Sergeant was suffering migraines, equilibrium issues, breathing problems, misaligned pupils, and vomiting. He was honestly lucky he woke up at all; he might have been in a coma… or worse. Sadly, his condition was really beyond her abilities to correct; she could take care of bodily injuries almost as well as an Emergency Room Doctor, but brain injuries were of their own special class. Sara hadn't specialized in cranial injuries for any species, focusing more on trauma care and being a Surgeons' Aide. Being a xeno-medic had its perks, to be sure, but there were things that she would never be an expert in, having generalized over several species instead of focusing on one. She was just grateful that she had experience in at least ten different species in the galaxy, along with some training in three others if the need were to arise. Sadly, there were some things she couldn't help with; Paramedics were meant to get patients to hospitals alive, not performing primitive surgery in a Bar.
Ryder checked the vitals of the Sergeant-in-question, asked him some meaningful questions, and at least noted that if his eyes kept drifting towards her breasts, then at least certain parts of his brain was working properly. Her questions led her to believe that he hadn't really recovered from his head injury; he had trouble remembering five-digit sequences, didn't remember the date, and when given a few misspelled words to read off a datapad, attempted to say them instead of recognizing that they were spelled incorrectly. Sara noted it in her growing log of patients and observations that she would have to download later. Sergeant Micah Cooley would have to be evac'ed with several others to proper Alliance Hospitals to see appropriate specialists. She wrote down his vital statistics, her observations, and dolled out a few mild ANCD's for his constant headache, likely minor brain swelling that she couldn't do anything about.
The next patient was one with burns; a Hydrogen Slush tank had gone off, and a part of the slurry had landed on the female Marines' shoulder. The Lance Corporal didn't seem too thrilled with taking a part of her combat undersuit off to expose her wound despite there being a hastily-made curtain partition to afford her some modesty as the Lancie exposed her shoulder to show the second degree burn that went from front of shoulder to down to her shoulder blade. It was a nasty burn, covering almost the entirety of her shoulder. It was going to need skin grafts to correct, but until then Sara was going to have to monitor for infection. Burns were so susceptible to them. Ryder removed the bandage that kept the burn both dry and protected, taking a look at the red, blistering skin, and winced at the sight of pus coming out of some of the blisters. But the pus wasn't clear, which meant just leaking fluids, nor was it white, which meant infection.
It was tinged green.
"What the fuck." The Petty Officer exclaimed softly, looking at the slightly-green pus. Normally, that would mean gangrene… but gangrene happened with coagulated blood stored in an area, the red blood cells dying and clotting the area with rot until the blood became unviable. Then the lack of oxygenated blood took its toll as cells became necrotic, slowly spreading as death spread. But gangrene didn't happen with burns. The area would be inflamed below the epidermis, and there would be damage to some of the surface tissues and blood vessels, but necrotising tissues weren't the general issue; infected tissues were. The most common infection with burns was Pseudomonas Aeruginosa, a gram-negative bacilli that possessed a singular supercoiled circular chromosome. It was found most everyone on and in the Human body, and regulated through hemostasis and beneficial bacteria that naturally occurred in the Human tissues. The result was generally pus-filled blisters and further damaging skin cells that caused the more obvious 'waxy' look of healed post-burned flesh. It didn't turn pus green.
This was the seventh patient she had seen with something concerning green in their visual bloodwork.
The sound of muted firearms was heard through the walls of the Bar and Grill, making Sara look up to the ceiling temporarily, and then back to her work.
Sara took a small specimen of the pus into a small syringe, hoping to have the time to look upon it as she cleaned any weeping and seepage from the Lance Corporal's shoulder, taking away the old bandages and putting on fresh ones as the female Marine grimaced but stayed silent as Sara taped the bandage onto her shoulder, assisting the Marine in getting her combat undersuit back on before leaving the curtained area, touching the vial of pus she had collected.
Was there a biological contagion on Feros that no one was aware of?
2nd Lieutenant James Ernesto Vega was having a bit of an interesting day.
First, he got to meet his very first SPECTRE, which was pretty cool. Stared at her ass, which was pretty cool, too. Thought she was a Blue, and had his jaw practically fall off when the helmet came of to reveal a very Human face, a woman with a Turians' white colonial markings decorating practically the entirety of it. Made it a little hard to recognize Marshal Samantha Collins, the Butcher of Torfan, but he wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. Then he got to meet two more SPECTREs; the Lion of Elysium and the Angel of Illyeria. It was as if God had been listening to his prayer for a miracle, and then one-up'ed it by dumping three SPECTREs and the Kill Team of the Gods right into his lap.
His first thought? The Geth are so Goddamn fucked and I got ringside tickets to the show.
Hadn't quite worked out that way, but he was still pretty optimistic about the whole thing as he perforated another Geth unit with his Devlon Industries' M-56 Marshal Medium Machine gun on the western wall, working with one of the remaining platoons with none other than the Butcher of Torfan and the Lone Wolf of Eden Prime, laying waste to toasters. Sergeant First Class Ashley Williams had been distributing tactics and modes-of-attack for the Marines, how switching firing techniques and tactics to keep the Geth guessing and adapting was better than sticking with a sure thing. It had been a couple of hours since the Lion and TEAM LION headed towards the ExoGeni Headquarters further away, the first respite in a long time it seemed, and the push from the west was smaller than usual. Williams had taken control of a platoon of Marines, barking orders like a DI, shifting fields-of-fire, firing techniques, lanes of responsibility, and switching fire team positions in a way that would have had a Gunnery Sergeant and a 1st Lieutenant tear their hair out in frustration.
And yet… it worked. Really fuckin' well, actually.
Three dozen Geth came for the wall, and were obliterated in less than five minutes. In fact, the only real casualties were minor bruises from round strikes that didn't penetrate armor; that meant Marines were receiving less fire, and thus the casualties weren't mounting. The Geth couldn't say the same; they were destroyed to the very last platform, prevented from exfilling from the area as the first target, a Geth Alpha Prime unit, was assaulted by one-half of the platoon while the other half suppressed and whittled the rest to keep the Geth from gaining a tactical advantage. When the Prime went down, it was as Sergeant Williams had said; it was like someone flipped the switch off on the synthetics. They went from dodging, using tactics and cover, and having near-lethal accuracy to being as effective as drones in a carnival game. They would merely stand and walk forward, firing sporadically, not even all that well. It was a turkey shoot… with the Geth. James never thought he'd live to see the day.
It was the first battle they had where they had come out the clear winner.
"This'll help the boys stiffin' up their spines." Vega said to Marse Collins, the SPECTRE coolly ejecting heat out of her Nexus Engagement Reliable Firearms' ECS-10 Modulus Battle Rifle as Vega did the same, forcing the drum-like heat sink of his Marshal to convectionally cool down. Most of the battles had been absolute slug fests that lasted anywhere from less than an hour to several, where Geth used the cover of the crags and ruts of Feros to keep themselves well protected while the Marines engaged and suppressed. Anytime they would action more men and women to thwart the threat, a few would show up in a different section to threaten them with flanking and breakthrough, probing for weaknesses in the line. It had been a near-constant thing, never a real lull in battle so as to collect themselves or gain some rest. One-third of the Fourth Marine Expeditionary Unit was taking a mandatory three-hour rest in the Temporary Billets, rotating through a sleep plan that would help them remain more effective. It wasn't the best of plans, but it was better than the one they had. Marines were practically dropping from exhaustion and stress, making mistakes and getting injuries because of those factors when they would have likely not have been hurt if they had been rested and fed properly. How many would still be alive if they hadn't been so burdened with deprivations?
"Geth are being wary." Sam said from next to James, having collapsed her helmet back into her HMWA MasterGear SPECTRE Mk. I Armor, surveying the finale of the short battle with her own eyes. "Tali'Zorah has pointed out on a couple of occasions that the Geth work on the probabilities of threat assessments. They factor in a units' size, effectiveness, supplies, tactics, and possible movements, and then work a scenario that is the likeliest of conclusions on how that unit will work. We changed the game on them and threw the statistics right out the window by inserting a small but lethal unit that doesn't fit the mold." Her tattooed face looked to Vega, her blue eyes fierce. "TEAM LION has proved itself to be a statistical anomaly that they haven't created an effective solution for, so thus the probe to see who we are, what were capable of, and how we'll react. Now that we've got two actions where the Geth have lost hardware and we haven't? We'll send them back to the drawing board. It's as Captain Shepard said before; they don't think like organics do. A bold commander might push in a different way only a minute or so later, while a cautious commander may flood us with reserves and heavy weaponry. The Geth obviously don't think this way. It's like fighting a chessmaster when we and changed the game to Parcheesi. They don't know what to do."
"But most of TEAM LION ain't here." Vega pointed out, resting his Marshal in a sling position, with the barrel down and the weapon tight to his body in its carrying apparatus.
"They don't know that." The Marshal replied, shaking her head. "They saw the MAKO leave, but they don't know who's on it. It could have been Marines as a relief-in-force, a hunter/killer unit, only half of TEAM LION, or even just a resupply run. The Geth… play it safe. The Battle of LaGrange Point Two proves it, the Geth using statistical and empirical data against their enemies. Might work for static assault and defenses, like your standard Turian Hierarchy ground unit. But when we start evolving and adapting on our own, they have to change the model to best fit our tactics." The Butcher looked to him, her eyes sparkling with thought. "They aren't creative!" The Level Two Council Agent realized, and the Lieutenant knew the point Marse Collins was making.
The Geth only predicted and reacted through math; they didn't understand an organic. Perhaps they lacked the processing power.
"Unpredictable puzzles and nonsense riddles." The Latino man supplied, making the Marshal beside him nod. "That we can do. Top?" Vega called out on a short-range communication bandwidth on a small physical radio that used short-burst frequency modulation for encryption, generally called a 'walkie-talkie', getting a hold of the highest-ranking Non-Commissioned Officer left in the Battalion, a Gunnery Sergeant by the name of Boris Damarov. "When the sleep unit wakes up, having them start rigging us some make-shift stands for armor. We're making fake Marines. If we've got any sentry turret motors and software left, use them to make a few of them useful." James clicked off the old-school walkie-talkie and looked to the SPECTRE. "We make a few things for the Geth to look at, give a few of them teeth, and disperse some real Marines amongst them, Geth will figure we're playing a game with them. But if they can't tell a dummy from a real Marine, and we make a few of the dummies have teeth, throws their prediction model out of alignment. Plus it gives my Marines something to do besides just fighting, and a chance for others to get some rest and a few breathers. Adds to morale, to boot."
"It's different. Different works with the Geth." Sam's eyes went shrewd for a moment. "I think there was a battle on Earth like that a long time ago, marching troops in a circle to make the unit look bigger."
"Fort Detroit." Vega replied, having remembered studying about Chief Tecumseh's trick into forcing the Garrison Commander of Fort Detroit surrendering his position thinking he was facing overwhelming odds instead of a couple hundred men the Fort could have easily held off. He was going to do the opposite, make it look like they were getting their numbers back, and then when the Geth figured out that the Marines were dummies and tried to attack, would learn that only some of them were, mixed with real Marines and a few pieces of hardware that could be controlled by a hardline controller. Get some of them video game boys something to do manning a Marine Sentry Unit, watching the wall while giving their brothers and sisters some respite. Yeah, that would go over good with the men, using both brains and brawns while showing he was giving them the things they needed like sleep while continuing the mission. Wasn't a perfect plan, but it was a good start towards something different.
He loved it when a plan came together.
Night was falling on Hadley's Hope, the end of a thirty and a third Terran hour day for the defenders of the colony as Petty Officer Sara Ryder exited the Hadley's Hope Bar and Grill, closing her eyes as she stepped outside into the deepening twilight of Feros, the magenta sky turning violet as Theseus set upon the skyscraper horizon, the ruins of the Prothean megacity surrounding the one spit of land that hadn't been swallowed by the Protheans for… whatever reason. The thought made her have a headache as Sara pinched her nose, fighting the stabs in her skull from the stress and exhaustion she felt after spending well over ten hours getting Marines medically checked out, bring many of them to something approaching active status, and others to Light Duty status. She had gone through much of the supplies of the lost Navy Corpsman that came with the Fourth Marine Expeditionary Unit, bandages and medications used to get men and women treated, holding a portion in reserve for later battles. With the Colonial Transmitter down thanks to the Geth and the SSV Normandy already knowing not to come to planet to avoid Geth hacking and software intrusion, TEAM LION and the Fourth MEU were effectively on their own for the time being. There would no resupply of medicinal items or a redeployment of Marines until the objective eliminating the Geth, gaining their objective, or destroying it to prevent their acquisition had been accomplished and announced by Auntie with a one-time use codeword to the Normandy that only she could give.
Despite having warships over their heads, the colony of Hadley's Hope was effectively abandoned to whatever fate they could wrought with their own hands.
"Heya Doc." Sara looked over to see Sergeant First Class Ashley Williams approaching her, the Colonial Soldier walking a beat with a hand on the pistol grip of her Kassa Fabrications' M-76 Reverent Light Machine Gun held magnetically to her Rosenkov Materials' Titan Heavy Armor chestpiece, her brown eyes keeping tabs on everything as Marines patrolled the rooftops for Geth activity while others fabricated ad-hoc Marine Sentries made up of skeletonized metal pieces and the armor from their dead. Several had already been set up to 'guard' positions on the rooftops and the wall, intermixed with real Marines to bolster their numbers visually. A few of them had servos and motors connected to them to add fire from their Hahne-Keder M-7 Lancer Assault Rifles to prove not all the Marines were merely for show or merely organic, the Sentries controlled by hardwire and manned by injured Marines on console, serving the line electronically if not physically to give their brothers and sisters respite. Ryder guessed that video game lovers just got their day in the sun.
"Heya Army." Sara noted that Ash was smoking a cigar, a habit of hers that didn't really win her any friends, but no one tried to stop, either. It was an old-fashioned habit that supposedly portrayed masculinity somehow; a strange sort of thing to see out of a woman. Sara didn't mind it too much. Actually, the smell of the smoke was rather pleasant, and it oddly reminded her of her father. "How go things out here?" She hadn't really gotten any updates other than no one had been overran. No one was going to interrupt Doc while she was helping Marines.
"A few clashes. No real injuries on our side, plenty of Geth to scrap once we get the all-clear." Williams replied, letting off a plumb of cigar smoke as she informed the SPECTREs' Second. "I heard you got forty of our boys back on their feet and in decent enough condition to help make a difference. Marines 'round here are pretty happy to hear that, not to mention they got the Angel on their side looking out for them." Good news was in short supply, but the past twelve or so hours had given the Marines of the Fourth more good news than they had in… days, probably weeks. "Now how are you holding up, Navy? I'm not fool enough to think your profession comes without its costs."
"I think I could sleep the night away, but I don't doubt I'll have any pleasant dreams." Ryder replied softly. She had to amputate four limbs, and declare a Marine Captain brain-dead. There were several others who needed more or less hourly care 'lest their wounds and infections get worse, dropping them to critical-and-unstable condition. "Unfortunately, the day isn't done. Not by a long shot.
"We still have the civilians to attend to." That had Ash wince, but nodding anyhow.
"Let me call up Marse and the El-Tee." The Colonial Soldier replied, touching the physical communicator mag-locked to her left shoulder, the old-school walkie-talkie a solution the Marines of the Fourth had cobbled together when the Geth had destroyed their communications and infiltrated their systems network. It involved an old-school communications protocol called 'frequency hop' that used multiple frequencies per second to avoid having their communications tapped into, as well as using short burst packets to send over, compressing the transmission and sending it as a package of data that the receiver would unlock and decompress in less than a second, further securing it. It was a 21st Century solution that Western nations used on Earth to secure their communications from the enemy, and it still seemed to work. Innovation didn't always have to come in the form of cutting-edge, top-of-the-line, or NextGen tech. Sometimes, older proven technology still had its verifiable uses. Sara knew what Ash was doing; protecting 'her' Medic. As the sole Health Care Provider, the Petty Officer was likely the most important person in the colony. Lieutenant Vega might have been the Commanding Officer of the Fourth MEU, but there would be someone to replace him if he were to fall. No one had the skills to replace Sara Ryder. Plus it was pretty standard that Marines (and Army) were a bit overprotective of the medical members of their units, knowing the favor would be returned when they were wounded. A few minutes later, Sara and Ash were joined up by Marshal Sam Collins, Lieutenant James Vega, and Agent Zevin Raeka.
"Not lookin' forward to this, but it needs to be done." Vega said simply, shrugging his armored shoulders as he sported only a Hahne-Keder M9 Kessler Service Pistol on his right hip, obviously not wishing to be seen as being oppressive or willing to cause further injury by bringing a weapon meant for self-defense only. "We got a better game plan than knock on the door and see who answers?"
"There's an intercom system we can access." Collins replied, the Marshal acting in steed for a Frontier Marshal with Marshal Aquila missing-in-action. "I can start a dialog with whomever is in charge or willing to talk and we can go from there. It's really the best solution out of a bunch of bad scenarios, I'm afraid."
"Agreed." Sara nodded. "We need to contact the colonists and at least let them know what's going on and addressing any realistic needs and demands. Leaving them in the main building of the colony might be for the best, but not out of sheer abandonment. Having them understand the situation and coming to a decision logically is really the best way to address it." That was the pretty version of it. Sara knew better; any contact was going to have accusations, screaming, unrealistic demands, calls for trial, and likely destruction of property and further injuries. Humanity wasn't known for acting its best when pushed to a corner or a dark closet. She couldn't blame them, but that didn't mean she was looking forward to the consequences that none of them really had a hand in.
"We let them know that there's a Federal Marshal and a Health Care Provider, that might make them more amicable." Collins said, her blue eyes going to the Colonial Soldier. "Ash? You will be glued to Sara's hip." There was no arguing with the steel of the Marshal's tone. Ryder wasn't exactly pleased with the order, but she knew why; a Medic and a woman would make a valuable hostage, and the Angel of Illyeria even more so. If some vindictive colonist who was justifiably pissed by their treatment wanted to get even with the Systems Alliance (no matter how retarded), they could abduct her and hold her for ransom. That would not make things better at all. She certainly didn't want to put Auntie in that position; she knew how Jannie would handle it. She wasn't thrilled with the thought, but she wasn't going to fight it. Not when she knew it was a good idea. Sara looked to Ash, the Army Soldier looking to her with a nod of her head as she chewed on her cigar a little, no doubt thinking of how bad the situation could get. Ryder didn't doubt that Ash would thump a colonist if they got handsy or inappropriate. But thumping wasn't the worst that could happen.
"I'll go get my MedBag." Ryder said. Day wasn't over yet.
Agent Mannovai Janoir Ye'ili Tavac Zevin Raeka stood beside the group that had gone to the main colony building of Hadley's Hope, her three-fingered hands gripping firmly upon her Kassa Fabrications' M-55 Argus Battle Rifle and having two interesting programs queued up on her Kassa Fabrications' Polaris OmniTool, upgraded by the Special Tasks Group Research and Development Team, and its various programs and its apps coded and developed by herself. She was good with a rifle, but she rather liked the term given to her by a Human criminal before setting him on fire for being a slaver; Wizard. It was charming in a rustic sort of fashion.
There were days such as today that being a soldier-spy had its heartsache.
The main building of the colony was a conglomerate of many things; the command center and colonial progress center of the development, quarters for the colonists, a medical/science lab, and various other departments necessary to run a starter colony. A centralized location was smart, with as many components as close together to keep information and efforts streamlined, and the building itself was meant to be self-sufficient if located on a planet where the environment was hostile. Humans had some interesting ideas, but Raeka understood that they were still learning about the galaxy at large, pioneers and explorers in their own right. It was that building that one thousand colonists minus the dead were relocated by the orders of Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Hulick, forced by gunpoint to be sequestered, dozens dead when some resisted. Sickening, the not-Dalatrass thought to herself, though she knew every species had its ugliness; Humanity wasn't alone in this regard. Still, knowing it intellectually and seeing it with her own eyes were two different things. The Turians would have been worse at the sight of civil unrest, and the Batarians… they were in a league of their own, unfortunately. The Salarian had one hand on the grip of her Argus, and her left hand ready to launch a spray of gas that would render a Human unconscious without any long-term issues as she stood before the door as Marshal Samantha Collins approached the intercom that would connect the outside to the inside, an airlock access intercom that the Level Two Council Agent would use to establish dialog. Raeka looked over to the other side of Sam, seeing Sergeant First Class Ashley Williams readying herself as well, her right hand on the grip of her ERCS M-3 Predator Combat Pistol, and her left hand discretely holding a configured flashbang grenade.
"If anyone can hear my voice, this is Federal Marshal Samantha Collins of the Systems Alliance Marshal Services." Collins pressed the activation button of the intercom, speaking into its transmitter as 2nd Lieutenant James Vega stood right behind the Marshal, his face grim at the thought of the details that would unlikely come forth about what his unit had done to the colonists. Beside him was Petty Officer Sara Ryder, equally looking on without emotion. There would be no good news coming. Seconds passed after the first transmission, the five of them waiting patiently, not really expecting an eager response back. After what Raeka assumed was a Terran minute, the former Marshal of Therum clicked on the transmitter again. "I say again, this is Marshal Collins of the SAMS. I'd like to talk to anyone who is in charge, or just anyone willing to talk." Williams was frowning as she began bouncing the flashbang in her hand, and Ryder looked on with a glum face wile Vega grimaced. This wasn't unexpected, and Collins had mentioned on what she'd like the plan to be if no one wished to talk on their way to the access door to the main building. The Marshal waited another minute. "If you can hear me, I'm a Federal Marshal, and I want to make sure the people are alright in there. If you could talk to me so I can find out what's going on and what you might need? I'm not opening the doors to have the military barge in and continue what was happening before."
Still no response.
"Bad juju feeling." Ash said, her lips twisting into a grimace quickly, shaking her head as she looked to Collins for a moment before going for the transmitter herself. "Hey, this is Ash. I'm a Soldier with the Eden Prime Colonial Army, Twelfth Frontier Battalion. They call me Lone Wolf Williams now." Ah, the Solider was going to appeal to whomever was inside with her story of heroics. Not a bad idea, honestly. "I've been with Marse Collins for about a month fighting Geth, and we arrived on Feros earlier today. Things are bad out here, and I've heard that things are bad in there, too. Marse wants to know that you people are well, if you're in need of food, supplies, medicine, that sort of thing. I'd like to know if the kids are okay. I got three kid sisters myself; Abigail, Lynn, and Sarah. I was Blockhead, Abby was Motormouth, Lynn Klutz, and Sarah Brat." Doc Ryder just shook her head and smiled a little as Lieutenant Vega snorted softly, but Agent Zevin knew what the Human woman was doing; appealing to the Salarainity of whomever was listening, trying to connect with them with personal anecdotes. "God, Sarah's still in Secondary Gymnasium, asking about boys. She's got a crush on this one kid Thomas who's one part jock, one part walking boner." Raeka didn't get the reference for either 'crush', 'jock' or 'boner'. "Had to take Emergency Leave a couple years back to Amaterasu when some ass named Mike decided to try and force himself on Sarah in the woods and she broke a tree with his nose." Nice, James whispered loud enough that the not-Dalatrass heard, seeing him nod with approval. "Got to spend two weeks of quality time with her, being her big sister. Funny enough, idiot tried punching her for classing him up and ended up breaking his nose again. Whatta dumbass."
Williams let go of the transmission button, staring at the device for a long moment.
"That… should have brought someone to the phone." The Soldier said after the moment had long since past. "At the very least to tell me to shut the fuck up and piss off. Something's off or something's wrong, Marse. Think we need to pop the cork and take a look inside."
"Agreed." Collins replied, nodding her head once as she looked to Vega. James moved to the access panel and typed in a ten-digit access code, obviously to lift the lockdown. The first door opened to reveal a sequestering airlock in between the exterior and interior, large enough for a dozen Human-sized sapients, the not-Dalatrass noted. She queued up her Neural Spray program, ready to dose anyone that tried to attack when the door opened as Williams held up one digit of her many fingers, the Human signal to wait a moment, before pulling out what looked to be a rubberized wedge and shoving it into the doors' track to halt it from closing.
"Not all hacking involves terminals." The Solider said with a wink towards Doc Ryder, making the Navy Corpsman snort and smile as Vega typed in the second code to open up the interior airlock door. It slid open to reveal no one immediately in its vicinity, displaying a corridor made of metal and lights.
And something inside that had them all staring.
"¡Madre de Dios!" Lieutenant Vega gasped out, taking two steps back with a look of horrified shock on his face. They all saw what was inside as James slammed his hand on the access panel, closing the interior door as he turned to look at the Humans and herself, his brownish flesh paled considerably and sweating out of fear. "W-what the fuck was that!"
"I've never seen anything like it." Marshal Collins replied, her own Turian Colony-marked face visibly lightened from the sight they had all seen. "I… I don't know. Never heard anything of its like in the Office of Special Tactics." Sergeant Williams was cursing under her breath, low enough that Raeka's horns couldn't catch it. Probably profanity.
"They looked to be organic incubation pods, almost like chrysalids." Petty Officer Sara Ryder said slowly, though her tone said she was disturbed by what she saw, gulping a little. "Organic cocoons that worms create to turn into butterflies, a metamorphosis chamber." She explained to James and Ashley, who both nodded with the clarification. "But that's only found in holometabolous insects on Earth, not Human Beings." Raeka's hyperthesmic memory recall certainly had no issues remembering what she had saw, Humans calling it 'photographic' memory. The pods were certainly taller than Humans, though the pods themselves had been greenish and had a spun look to them, indeed looking like a cocoon, bulging in the middle and tapered on its ends. There had been at least a dozen in plain sight connected to the walls of the corridor leading into the main building, and there had been more leading deeper inside. "Lord… I think those are the colonists." Ryder said in abject horror, her blue eyes wide as she looked to all of them individually for a brief moment each.
"I think they're people in those pods!"
Author's Note: I like going for a little old-school Sci-Fi, and the next chapter will certainly have a lesson learned back in 1956, going back in the day of black and white cinema. One of the few movies in which the good guys don't exactly win in the end, we'll see if you can get this cinematic classic and where I'll be going with it.
In America, the US Military does not hold jurisdictional power inside the United States territories save for military bases; the Army does not respond to riots or crime. Now I know you'll cry National Guard! but they are a part of the State Militia, not the Federal Government, and are activated by a State Governor; an elected official by the people of the state. This is usually during State of Emergencies (like weather-related emergencies) or civil unrest (like we can see in history during the 60's and 70's). And yes, military verses civilians damn near always goes badly. Look up Kent State University, Ohio, 1970. It isn't pretty.
I mention that the Frontier Marshal of Feros is Marshal Teresa Aquila. Let's see who recognizes this name from a 2010 video game.
"Country Road (Take Me Home)" - John Denver (thanks for bringing this back, Bethesda!) #Fallout76
While I tried to get the instruments right for an amputation, there's dozens of possibilities and I don't know their names or all their purposes. Normally, one cuts the flesh, then tendons, then muscle, and then the bone. It isn't just hacking away, but a surgical procedure to leave as much healthy tissue as possible. Also, skin flaps are left to sew over the stumps. In the American Civil War, the best surgeons were the ones that could lop off a limb the fastest as Minie Ball, made of lead, expanded and generally shattered a bone, creating both severe wounds and lead poisoning. This is where gangrene became a severe concern, as well as battlefield infections from dirt and 1860 hygiene standards (sleeping next to pigs and combing ones' hair with fingers and whatnot). For a good period of time throughout Human history, people didn't take baths in fear of infection and that the dirt and grime insulated them; the complete opposite of what we know today. I wonder what we're doing now that people in a hundred years will consider 'backwards'. (GOD! DIDN'T THEY KNOW COFFEE'S CANCEROUS?!) [I'm so fucked]
I realize I goofed about Feros, though most likely most didn't catch it. During "The Battle of LaGrange Point Two" I mention the Fourth Fleet hiding behind the moon Vegna. Feros has two moons; Orcan and Vardet. Yes, I've changed Canon, but I could at least get the planets and moons right.
Feros has a 5.44 Bar atmosphere. A Human being cannot just walk into 5 times atmo without suffering pressure sickness (barotrauma is generally in reference to the 'Bends', in which you go from greater-to-lesser pressure, usually associated with deep-sea diving). There is very little about actual 'compression sickness' since deep-sea divers generally breath trigases to take out as much native nitrogen out of their system (what causes Decompression Sickness) before diving. The closest reference I could find was 'Caisson Disease' (the original DCS) associated with the building of bridges and tunnels where pressurized areas existed to keep out the water (positive pressure) back during the late 19th Century. In fact, the modern-day airlock was created by Sir Earnest William Moir in 1889 during the building of the Hudson River Tunnel in NYC. Walking into a high-pressure area will affect equilibrium, eyesight, and cognitive thinking… and the associated symptoms make a person appear to be drunk. Sir Moir also created the Diving Bell and the pre-fab concrete block design for the WWI machine-gun pillbox. As a sidenote, 25% of the workers on the Hudson River Tunnel died from DCS before Moir's airlock (which became the industry standard). DCS is a really horrible way to go, and Sir Moir was horrified that workers were dropping dead… and no one cared.