Chapter Seven
The following morning arrived with a raging hangover and a feeling of displacement. Zaeed rolled out of the bunk he'd been deposited in the night before, one hand to his forehead and his eyes squeezed shut. It took him a minute to realize he wasn't on Omega anymore. Once recollection returned, he stumbled out of the barracks into the mess. He eased himself into one of the empty chairs with a smothered groan and activated his omnitool. A quick dispense of medi-gel and the headache began to ease up.
Clarity returning, Zaeed glanced about the empty mess hall. He'd been too absorbed in catching up with Malachi to remember his second reason for being on Joab: the matter of Krelyar was still waiting to be handled. Zaeed was fairly certain the younger captain knew about his presence on the base; hopefully, Malachi will have forbidden him from running off on another mission so soon after the ambush. For all of his brutish qualities, Malachi had a mother hen demeanor when it came to the men under his command. He would want Krelyar to take a break.
Zaeed had considered sharing the truth with Malachi, believing his friend deserved that much. However, he couldn't have the other man interfering with his plans, either. He'd have time to explain his actions after Krelyar was dead. Once that was done, it would be pointless to expand on the issue further. Malachi would probably wish he'd been the one to do it, once he knew the reason. Having a traitor in the ranks never did sit well with any of the old guard.
Figuring there was no time like the present, Zaeed stood and left the mess hall. His quarry would either still be asleep or up and about alone. Either way suited him just fine. As he walked, Zaeed withdrew his pistol from its holster casually and checked the clips with an equal air of nonchalance. Any of the Suns he passed nodded towards him, but otherwise let him move about the base freely. Not many had been informed of his true identity or connection to the Suns; that would be taken care of once Krelyar was dead. Malachi would have to announce his full backing of Zaeed's right to leadership before they could move on to find the rest of the old guard and continue the reclamation. Shepard would also have be retrieved for further instruction. If they were lucky, having Malachi at their backs would allow for Shepard's constant presence with them. Zaeed didn't like sending her out on these killing missions; having her with him was a far more agreeable solution.
As he passed one of the armories, Zaeed's ears perked up to the sound of Krelyar's voice speaking to a few other Suns. He paused in the doorway to the armory in question, leaning against its frame carelessly. He watched with steadily-mounting hatred for the captain, but held it in until they were alone.
The few mercs with Krelyar finished their business with him and departed, nodding at Zaeed as they passed. Finally where he wanted his prey to be, Zaeed stepped further inside, the door sliding closed at his back. The telltale click of his pistol unfolding drew Krelyar's attention from the weapons table he'd been observing.
"Don't even think about it," Zaeed warned when he saw Krelyar's hand inch towards a rifle. He approached the captain slowly, pistol ahead of him, head cocked as if amused. Krelyar watched him warily, hands now lifted to shoulder level as if in surrender.
"You should be dead, Massani," Krelyar said coldly, eyes following the other as Zaeed began to circle him. "There's no way you could've survived that shot. I was there. I remember getting hit with your blood, old man."
"Bully for you, boy," Zaeed replied, his voice dangerously soft. "You forget that Vido was a pisspoor shot. It took six of you sons of bitches to hold me down; didn't that tell you something about me?"
"Only that you were fucking insane and had to be put down," Krelyar declared. "You'd sent me on far too many dangerous missions, Massani. Commander Santiago was looking for a more respectable way for the Suns to make a name for themselves in the galaxy. You? Nothing but muscle and stupidity. You solved every problem with your fists or your guns. Santiago had finesse. The Blue Suns needed his leadership."
"Horseshit," Zaeed retorted, closing the distance between them in an eyeblink and pressing the muzzle of his pistol to Krelyar's cheek. "You were just a welp then, hardly out of your first suit. What did you know of leadership?"
"More than you!" Krelyar dared to take a step forward. Zaeed was quick to shove the younger man back against the table, pistol now firmly pushed into the other's face.
"Last I heard you got your entire squad killed," Zaeed purred, malice lighting his good eye and causing the other man to shudder. "How is that an example of leadership?"
Krelyar stared dumbly at Zaeed, then his eyes widened as realization struck. "She was with you! That woman in the Suns uniform!"
"What gives you that idea, boy?"
"She's just like you: killing without a second thought. She let me live on your orders, didn't she? You wanted to get me yourself." Krelyar gave a short, mocking laugh. "What kind of a leader sends his bitch after his enemies? A weak one, that's who!"
"If you knew who she really was, you'd be shitting your pants right now," Zaeed promised him coolly, refusing to rise to the bait. "But you'll never know, will you?" He grinned, the malice in his gaze having reached his lips. Krelyar heard the click of the pistol being cocked and glared hard at Zaeed.
"Go to hell, Massani," he snarled.
"You first."
Zaeed squeezed the trigger, firing pointblank directly into Krelyar's brain. The top of his head exploded into a pulpy mass, sending a brilliant spray of bright red blood against the extra guns. Krelyar's body shuddered violently, then collapsed to the floor. Zaeed holstered his pistol, spat on the twitching body once, and left the armory.
He moved through the base calmly, as though he killed traitors before breakfast every day. He punched in the frequency for the link he shared with Shepard. "Shepard? Are you there?"
A crackle, then her voice. "What is it, Massani?" She sounded tired. Wherever she was was apparently functioning on a different timezone than Joab. Zaeed smiled slightly at the mental image of the commander rising from a tangle of sheets, eyes bleary and half-shut.
"Sorry to wake you, Shepard, but it's time to regroup."
He heard the rustle of fabric as Shepard sat up in bed. "Got Krelyar, then?"
"Dead as a doornail."
"Good. Tired of this port, even after two days. Or is it three? Nevermind." She paused. "Are you on Joab?"
"Figured that out, did you?" Zaeed grinned. Shepard mumbled something incoherant.
"My omnitool is giving me your coordinates. Didn't we get rid of the Suns influence on Joab a few weeks ago?"
"We don't like giving up perfectly good bases, Shepard. If we abandoned ship everytime someone hit us, we'd be out of a job."
"Good point. So, when can I expect to get off this rock?" her voice had begun to perk up; she was becoming more alert and ready to move. Zaeed smiled again.
"I'll have a shuttle heading your way today. Send me your coordinates and I'll get some of my men to escort you back. And Shepard?" he added, smiling at the muffled response she offered, "you did good with that ambush. Krelyar even paid you a compliment before I killed him."
"Did he really?" she deadpanned. "Can't imagine him having anything positive to say after I'd killed his men."
"It was a backhanded compliment," Zaeed informed her. "Said you were like me. Seems I'm rubbing off on you, Shepard."
"No comment, Massani," Shepard replied, a smile in her voice. "Just get me off here."
"Maybe later," Zaeed quipped suggestively. Shepard made a noise as if to respond, then caught herself and groaned.
"I walked right into that," she laughed. "Minced words aside, I'll see you soon?"
"As soon as I can," he replied. "Promise."
"Good as gold, Massani. Shepard out." The link went dead with a blip, leaving Zaeed smiling to himself.
The smile slid off his features when the distinct echo of a flashbang grenade reached his ears. Turning swiftly to the armory door, Zaeed withdrew his rifle and crossed the room in wide, silent strides. Cautiously, he opened the door and leaned out into the corridor. Brilliant white light was coming from the front of the base; he could hear the cries of the Suns stationed there, calling for backup. A sick feeling settled into Zaeed's belly as he stalked out of the armory in a low crouch. No way did Krelyar anticipate Zaeed's plan to kill him, nor would the captain have been bold enough to attempt to take down Malachi and his men. This first wave was too slick for the likes of the Blood Pack or Eclipse. Only one man came to Zaeed's mind:
The Omega assassin had found Malachi.
Cursing as loudly as he dared, Zaeed hurried his pace, eager to reach the rest of the men before Malachi got a bullet in his skull. Even with the sheer numbers present in the base, Zaeed knew the assassin to be resourceful enough to work his way around that. He'd avoid the many streams of bullets soaring after him and zero in on the target. There would be other casualities, of that Zaeed was sure, but the assassin's real target would definitely be Malachi. Losing Samson had been hard enough; losing Malachi would be even harder.
The sound of gunfire grew louder as Zaeed neared the entrance hall of the base, his anxiety mounting. Then, to his great relief, he spied Malachi amidst ten other men all providing return fire somewhere above them in the cliffs. The assassin would take cover high up; snipers needed the range to do their dirty work. Also, keeping his distance would diminish his own injuries. Well, Zaeed knew his methods and he'd be damned if he'd be able to pick off another of the old guard.
Racing up and away from the rest of the Suns, Zaeed bounded up the ramps leading to the cliffs. Now that he was expecting the assassin, he wouldn't be so careless as to get shot again. No, if anyone was going to be shot today it would be him. He'd have to beat him at his own game, Zaeed thought, and switched out his assault rifle for his sniper rifle. Moving higher up, further away from the base, he found an outcropping that overlooked the valley. Here he stretched out on his belly, extended his rifle and peered through the scope. A few sweeps of the immediate area revealed his quarry perched among discarded crates and a beaten-up old Grizzly.
At this range, Zaeed could clearly make out the sloping ridge of a turian through the armor. The armor itself was the same bright blue he'd caught glimpses of on Omega. It gleamed as though frequently polished and not a scratch was evident on its smooth surface. Briefly, Zaeed wondered why a turian would be targeting Blue Suns' commanders. Most turians sought the Suns out for work, along with those blasted batarians. Still, it didn't mean somewhere along the way a Sun hadn't pissed the wrong person off, turian or otherwise. The assassin's reasons didn't matter. All that mattered was putting him down before he could do any more damage.
Zaeed lined up his shot and fired. The bullet zinged off the turian's armor, knocking the other over into the grass. Satisfied with this warning shot, Zaeed waited for the assassin to rise before taking a second shot. However, to his dismay, the assassin did not rise and instead was relocating to get a better shot at Malachi down below. Zaeed ventured a glance at the frontlines through his scope. Malachi was ducking out of sight and barking orders at his men. Good. Hopefully, the general had caught onto the assassin's plans and would stay out of range until the turian could be taken down.
Time to take the fight to him.
Zaeed collapsed his rifle and locked it back into its port, then scrambled up off the ground. He cleared the space between him and the sniper's original perch in a handful of bold leaps, eventually landing on the highest catwalk leading to the base. His boots thundered against the grated surface of the walk, shaking it violently. Some feet from him, the turian was once again crouched down and scanning the area for Malachi. Oh no, you don't, you son of a bitch! Zaeed thought angrily and advanced on the turian.
The turian whipped his helmeted head around at the sound of Zaeed's charging battle cry and readied himself to deflect the oncoming collision. Zaeed hammered into the side of the larger alien, tackling him to the catwalk. The turian rolled onto his back, Zaeed still on him, wedged his wide feet between them and launched the bounty hunter from him. Zaeed slammed into the railing before momentum forced him over it. He fell to the ground with a grunt, the wind knocking out of him. Dazed, he struggled to catch his breath and stand. Above him, through bleary eyes, he saw the turian assassin rise up, rifle in hand, and take aim. Zaeed groped for his pistol clumsily, still very disoriented.
Managing to wrench it from its holster, Zaeed took shaky aim at the turian and squeezed off a single shot. It struck the ground beside the turian's armored feet, but did little to prevent the inevitable. Zaeed's eyes traveled to the front of the base, a hoarse scream rising to his lips as he saw Malachi coming out of cover, twin SMGs in hand. A brief firefight erupted between Malachi and the turian assassin, ending when the latter managed to complete his mission.
Zaeed's voice found the scream that had been fighting to get out as the bullet claimed his old friend's life, exploding out the back of Malachi's head and sending his body backwards into his men like a collapsed tree. A cluster of mercs rounded on the body of their fallen leader while others still continued to rain fire on the turian above them. Somehow, the assassin evaded the hail of shot, leaping nimbly from the catwalk and speeding away.
Zaeed remained on the grass, his breath coming in short, shuddering gasps that shot pain through his ribs. He could already tell two of them had snapped from the fall. A dozen Suns advanced on him, some kneeling to help him to his feet gingerly. Those still around Malachi were now lifting the larger man onto their shoulders and carrying him into the base. The few with Zaeed half-carried the bounty hunter after them, each careful not to jostle him too much.
Once inside, the mercs lowered Zaeed into a chair. On a nearby table, Malachi's body was lain. His SMGs were immediately crossed over his chest, then covered with his hands. The rage building in Zaeed's chest was hot, encompassing. He hadn't felt this kind of anger since Vido. That damned turian bastard had to be stopped and soon. Simply following the plan would only give the assassin more time to find the others and kill them, too. Right now, the main priority was to ensure the others' safety so the whole damn plan could succeed. Without them, all would be lost.
Zaeed grabbed the wrist of the Sun nearest him, drawing the merc to his side. "I need a shuttle," he rasped through the pain in his chest. The merc nodded quickly. "Go to these coordinates. Find her."
"Her who, sir?" the merc asked, spreading his hands. Zaeed snarled a bit, then calmed himself.
"Female Sun. You'll know her. Bring her back here."
"Of course, sir! I'll get some men right on it!" the merc promised and hurried away. Zaeed slumped in his chair wearily, then activated his omnitool to administer what was left of his medi-gel. The pain his chest subsided enough for him to stand and go to Malachi's body. He stood beside it and placed one hand over Malachi's crossed ones.
"I should've warned you, old friend," Zaeed murmured. "I couldn't warn Samson, but I could've told you. I won't let your death be in vain, Malachi. I'll get that son of a bitch who did this. I swear it."
His resolve returning, Zaeed turned to the assembly of Suns around him. He stared at them hard in turn, then said:
"Time to go to war, gentlemen. This isn't over, not by a long shot."