Keep
two: fragile things
Kasumi fades backward, locking the doors behind them and ready to keep the stragglers moving. Maybe it's the too-cheery smile, or the blood drops on her gloves and boots, or the way she can vanish. Whatever the reason, she's an excellent way to prod the slower hostags to keep moving forward.
Shepard keeps her eyes roving ahead. She scarcely notices the bodies of the men she had to gun down to get access to the hostages. Garrus is around here somewhere, and if they don't move fast, the mercs will have reinforcements.
"Your name?"
"Antilarax," the turian says. "You are Commander Shepard? The Commander Shepard?"
"Yes," Shepard says. "Don't mind me, but you don't look like you should weigh near this much. Is it the carapace?"
Antilarax's lower voice box hums before she speaks, the turian equivalent of a very quiet chuckle. "More like the pregnancy, I expect."
"You're pregnant? And they broke your arm? Tell me the bastards didn't know." There are lines. There are lines even filthy thieving hostage-taking scum shouldn't cross.
That sounds like something Garrus would say. Well, he'd be right on this one, anyway.
"I'm sure they didn't." Antilarax's voice is soothing.
Shepard can only shake her head, too angry to form a reply. She scans her HUD, checks positions, and opens a link. "Garrus, we're approaching your position."
::: I see you. Shepard—!
His alarm has her demanding a sitrep.
He makes a harsh noise in both voiceboxes, but then says, ::: No change. Still clear. On my way.
She hears a mumur, but the words don't come through clearly enough for the translator. The tone, though? There's no mistaking the tone. It's his This is gonna suck voice. She half-wonders what the hell he's on about. Her team is weird — was weird even in its first incarnation on the Normandy SR1— there's no telling what's got him in a twist.
Antilarax limps a few more steps forward. Shepard keeps supporting her.
Garrus steps into view. He's strapped his Viper to his back and holds the Vindicator in both hands. His eyes have narrowed deeply and he holds his mandibles stiff, tense.
"Commander, are we ready?" The under-echo of his second voice seems louder than the top voice.
"Let's go."
He nods, but doesn't move. Shepard watches his gaze travel over Antilarax, sweeping to take in the broken arm and the bloodstained leg. He looks at the pistol she holds in one hand and widens his eyes.
"Can't say I recommend that, Shepard."
"Hell, Garrus, it's not a Claymore. If I have to fire it —"
"That's an awkward grip. You'll break your wrist." He turns the words into a growl.
"Most of my bones are reinforced with metal. I can take it."
Antilarax does that lower-voice-box-hum-chuckle thing. "Don't bother arguing with him. Men get like this."
"Not with me they don't," she snaps. "Garrus, we don't have many options. How many people in this group can help her move? Unless you want to help her and let me cover you."
Garrus looks between them, while Antilarax simply laughs at them.
"It's a pistol, Garrus."
"So you're going to try to fire it one handed?"
She's quiet for a second, and then points to the still-healing cybernetics scars. "I'll fire it however I have to, and I'm not about to let a pregnant woman get hurt. Give me a little trust here."
"If you're supporting her, you shouldn't even be this far forward."
"And leave you without backup?"
"You think you're going to back me up with a pistol—?"
"Damnit, Garrus, you can't have this argument both ways!"
And Antilarax laughs again. "Turian men. They always forget what women are made of the minute we start gaining weight. Do you have a lighter pistol, Commander?"
"Oh, hell no. Bad enough that Shepard's shooting one-handed. You're not going to let her do it too, are you?"