Beta-read by Midnight Lion
Chapter 2: Best Laid Plans
"Alright cowboy, I'm out of my element..." The tiny worry lines etching the corners of Emma's eyes belied her light-hearted words. Fletch eyed her apprehensively, a hand lifting towards his face to rub his nose before pausing in mid-air, catching himself before the thoughtless gesture became a painful one. Swelling reduced by medigel's anti-inflammatory properties, his brusque tone emerged without distortion.
"Right, we're sitting ducks here after that entrance. All things being equal, I think we need to find better cover." Eyes darting first towards Phillips, Fletch's gray gaze tracked towards the pilot seat. "I don't suppose…."
"No such luck." The pilot's eyes dropped to the deck plating as he set his back against the shuttle wall, the palm of one hand clutching the back of the other. "I suspect… debris… the engines…" His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he spoke. "The internal mechanisms might need things I couldn't replace… not here… not quickly at least…" The younger man rubbed his face, fingers a brief, unsteady barrier against the world at large.
"Right, then…" Emma reached forward into a small compartment under the console, fingering the lock and drawing forth the pitiful arsenal it contained. A lingering policy from the colony's founding, no shuttle went unequipped, especially not one containing a medical crew and a veritable bounty of drugs and supplies.
Dee fumblingly strapped the weapon to her hip. Fletch tucked extra clips into various pockets, then ran his fingers carefully over the weapon, twitching and flicking at its mechanisms with easy familiarity. Glancing at Pip, just emerging from behind those delicate hands, Fletch gestured for the remaining pistol and clipped it next to the first. Emma slung the lone rifle over her shoulder, lips firm and eyes steady. "Clean out the supplies," she ordered, her dark eyes flicking towards the shuttle's cramped interior.
They moved. Elbow, feet and hands jostling as they each picked apart the prepared kits for the most portable materials. Discarded supplies littered the floor in their haste. Fletch was the first to finalize his gear and he waved Emma over as he slid his omnitool onto his left wrist. His fingers flickered through the holographic display that overlay his arm from fingertip to elbow. Within the steadily glimmering lines, a rectangular image was forming.
"The port… and we're… here?" Emma swept a pinky a few millimeters above the map, not wanting to confuse the technology. His head nodded approvingly, ponytail bobbing.
"Now, it's hard to know where to go that's safe…." He began, pausing briefly as the deep rumbling of distant firepower punctuated his words. "But the tram line is just south of us. If it's running, it's our best chance to get us and any survivors we run across out of here." Despite the matter-of-fact tone and steady expression, his aura was a throbbing knot of uncertainty.
"My folks, out at the dig site –" Still marveling at his outward control, Emma's eyes flickered with approval as she continued. "That Prothean one unearthed by the groundbreaking for that new terminal?" Fletch nodded. "Well, they mentioned something about Marines stationed there to prevent looting." Dee and Phillips glanced up from their own preparations, at Emma's words, looking hopeful. "They're likely equipped for defense, or at least better communications, something."
"Well whaddaya know," Fletch grinned, flashing pearly whites. "I think we have a plan."
Somehow, the dots on the omnitool representing the tram and their abused shuttle had not seemed nearly so far apart until they began moving. Fletch led them carefully from cover to cover, pausing frequently to wait and watch before any of them set even a toenail onto a street, alley or opening. Weapon's fire, distant, echoed periodically along their otherwise eerily silent path. Fletch would pause and then veer them away from any of the nearer explosions. Emma noted the tension building thickly around Dee, who suddenly planted her feet in protest as they began to turn away from the closer sounds of gunfire.
"Damn it! I thought we were going to look for survivors? We're bloody medics!"
"Look," Fletch turned abruptly towards the bristling woman, staring her down as the dark chocolate tones of her face flushed even darker with emotion. "We're lucky if these last a single firefight." a hand gestured to the pistol on his hip. "Whoever is here, taking on Eden Prime, they're organized, and they're dangerous. We can't stand up to military grade weaponry!"
Dee's lips parted, an aura of resentment writhing through the air. Emma physically inserted herself into the conversation before sparks flew, stepping between them, planting a hand on each of their chests and pushing. The tactile contact heightened her awareness of the emotionally charged atmosphere, fear, anger, resentment and wariness pooling in the two bodies beneath her fingertips. Yanking her hands from them, her fingers rubbed together, trying to free herself of the lingering shock of another's emotional charge. Phillips watched, silent and pale.
"We're medics, first, but… Dee… we're no use to anyone dead." The cold, even tone in Emma's voice silenced Dee. Passionate even in silence, Dee clapped her lips closed and turned away, stewing. She's mad at the world, for caving in around us. Emma pondered briefly to herself, motioning Fletch onward. First rule of Emergency response: Evaluate the scene, don't rush in and become another victim.
The four medics wove their way between buildings, eyes wide and alert, senses heightened. It was impossible to miss the scarring from explosives and weapons that began decorating their surroundings with greater frequency. As the minutes edged upwards, a greater silence descended and hung heavy over the little group.
"It's so quiet," Dee marveled, tone subdued and sweat beading on her brow despite the chill air. "And… shouldn't there be more bodies?" While the strange ship still loomed in the near distance, the northern point of a triangle between their shuttle, it, and the tram, the thuds of explosions had stilled, leaving an ominous quiet in the air. There were occasional mahogany-colored splotches on the ground, hints that bodies had bled out. But who moved the bodies? The question reflected in their glances, remained unspoken.
"This began before our first call." Emma's observed quietly as she lined up behind Fletch, pressing her bundled back into the wall and gripping her rifle firmly as he peered around the corner. The shifting breeze kicked up dust, mixing thin clouds of smoke and scattering the scents of destruction through the air. Dee sneezed. They each froze.
"Damn. Sorry." Ignoring her, Fletch waved them to follow after another brief pause, and they darted across the empty street, watchful.
"These aren't Batarians." After nearly an hour of silence since leaving the shuttle, beyond simple commands, Fletch's sudden outburst caught them all off guard. "The… four-eyes don't remove bodies, and they loot as they go. This is too clean."
"Did you hear that?" Phillips' whisper silenced any further conversation. Emma froze again, but her heart was pounding so hard it was difficult for her to pick out anything else. After a few seconds, they scurried forward, finding momentary cover behind a cement ramp that rose gradually up to the building at their right. "There it is again!"
"I think it's from over there…" Dee edged nearer the low end of the ramp, lifting a hand to point towards the building across the way. The missing corner smoked and smoldered, but it was the mechanical chittering and clicking that caught their attention. While the fear and adrenaline of her companions hung heavy enough to be physically palpable, at least to her special sensitivities, Emma sensed nothing anywhere else. No intelligent biologic life within her range, at least. Which means…?
"Defensive mechs?" Her question emerged into air suddenly loaded with the whistling and whizzing of projectiles. Dee's mouth formed a silent "o", her eyes widening before she crumpled. Fletch sprang into action, popping off several shots with grim determination. Emma reached for Dee, but Pip was already kneeling beside her, hands a flurry of activity.
"Em, rifle!" Electrified by the chill in Fletch's voice, and the cold aura of calm that sheathed him, she flung herself to the ground beside him, crouching and fumbling the barrel of her rifle up as she peered over the lip of the ramp. A lone mechanized thing approached them, seemingly unfazed by the rapid pistol fire. Emma's fingers caressed the trigger, the butt of the rifle kicking briskly into her shoulder as her suit buffered her from the impact. The bullet fractured into the nearly invisible blue field surrounding the machine, its glowing lamp of a head swiveling back and forth with unconcern, assessing the oncoming weaponry. Bipedal, its jerky movements were birdlike, as it began a steady approach covered by period fire.
"Shit!" The pistol in Fletch's hands dropped suddenly, a tell-tale electronic burbling alerting them it had overheated, even if he hadn't been waving his hands frantically, trying to dissipate the heat. After a split second, the second pistol was up and out, though the shots slowed slightly.
"Head shot. But get its shields first." They ducked at a spate of returning fire, but Fletch immediately popped up, firing a briefly rapid spate of rounds. Emma managed a few more shots, and her companion grunted as one of his bullets ricocheted from the suddenly unprotected metal of the mechanized warrior's frame. "Head! Now!" The thing was nearing the ramp, closing the ground between them quickly. Emma felt rather than saw the bullet that whizzed by her head, sucking in a breath, holding the air as she focused. Trying to steady shaking hands, Emma sighted and pulled the trigger.
Note: Two days late, but almost half again as long as intended. Feedback welcome and encouraged. I appreciate all kinds of critique to help me improve!