Chapter 6

Flashback Home

The following few days they were forced to hunker down in a unused warehouse not far from the spaceport. The Spectre and Eclipse were searching for them. If it wasn't for the detective they wouldn't have been able to flee the hospital in time. The warehouse office were they took refuge was small and dusty but it was better than being dead. They did manage to arrange transport to the citadel on a freighter.

The data they acquired from the pointed to the Eclipse moving the General's son there.

The data they acquired pointed to the Eclipse moving the General's son there.

A few more days passed. It would be a week and change before they reached their destination. They occupied one of the few private passenger quarters of the ship. It was small and spartan, almost like every other place they had been, and only had a small desk and one bed. The ship was a cargo hauler, and the Captain agreed to take them under the condition that they helped with some of the manual labour once they hit the dock.

"So what's this Citadel place we are going to?" Martin asked while Velpia was sorting through the Omni-tool data. Her face was illuminated by the orange glow. "It's a massive space station, there the Council rules from."

"Politicians still snobby and non-committal in this time?"

Velpia chuckled and nodded. "Some things transcend time and species."

Martin adjusted himself in the firm bed and made a slightly pained noise. "I swear I'm tired of getting shot and stabbed." Velpia looked up from her Omni-Tool, quite amused by his misfortune. "Maybe don't be so stubborn next time." Martin didn't respond to her remark, still feeling foolish that he allowed himself to be easily cornered.

"So, what's the plan for when we get there?" Martin asked while he stared at the gray ceiling.

"Well, we usually would check in with all the normal tourists, but you're undocumented. So we're going to sneak in."

Martin's chuckle turned into a cough. "And how do we do that?"

Velpia stood up to stretch before sitting back down. "It's not difficult; we just walk off the dock once we help the crew offload their cargo. It's not like they guard the place."

"That's it?" He moved his head to look at her. "Yup, C-Sec is spread thin, so it's not like they can keep tabs on everyone."

"That's… ridiculous." He couldn't believe it would be that easy to get in. They had to bribe their way past customs to get on Elysium, and all you had to do to get on the station for the supposed center of Galactic politics was pretend you were a dockworker for a few minutes? "Figures," he thought to himself.

Martin lay restless in the silence that followed. He was already tired of the inaction of the last five days. He hated the thought of just laying in bed for the trip. He had already been lying around for the previous seven hours and was bored out of his mind.

Martin rolled to his side and pushed himself upright with his arm. He made a pained noise as he attempted to stand. Velpia came to his side to help him up. "Where do you think you're going?"

"The bathroom." He remarked as he stood on his feet. "Need any help?"

"Only if you're gonna aim it for me." He joked as he made his way to the door. She shook her head and let him shuffle his way out the door. "Get some sleep. I'll be a while," he ordered as he holstered his pistol.

The rest of the ship was quiet, and the light hum of the engines covered up the low ringing in his ears. The middle of the ship had some small bits of cargo scattered around. The larger stuff was in the back. In front of him, across the ship, was a large open window.

The darkness of the void was inviting and calming. He walked over and took his place by the handrails. Shifting the weight off of his legs and chest.

After a few moments, his mind was still. He had pushed out every thought; he wanted the silence. Martin closed his eyes and listened to the small noises around him. His thoughts eventually settled in on his past.

He had felt much the same way he felt back then. Disconnected from reality, always running from something. It annoyed him that even after all this time, he hadn't realized what he wanted. His concept of home was broken from an early age; settling down didn't seem right; he had no modern education. Hell, he technically didn't exist on government paperwork. How can anyone build a life with that?

There were probably better choices than running off with some alien woman and pretending to be a mercenary… but he hadn't seen any yet.

It was a bit funny to him. Out of all the things that could have happened when he awoke, he ended up running around the galaxy, unable to shake her off. No matter how hard they both tried. Fate has a funny sense of humor.

Martin turned around and headed for the front of the ship, curious if anything. He made his way past the bulkhead doors and into the bridge. The Captain turned to him, unsure of his arrival. The pilot and other crew members sitting in front looked back over their shoulders.

"I'm surprised you're up and moving, considering the state you were in when you came aboard." Captain Rogers was a tall, dark-skinned human, balding, and looked to be in his mid-forties. He stood between the two crew members at their stations at the front of the bridge.

"I'm tougher than I look." Martin smiled, looking over the bridge. He saw Rogers look down at his sidearm and back. "Expecting trouble?"

"Always," Martin replied. Rogers backed away slightly, unsure what to make of his intentions. "Anything I can help you with?"

Martin shook his head while leaning on one of the empty chairs, "Nah, just curious. It's not often I get a chance to travel, and the last ship I was on, we were stuffed in the cargo bay."

Rogers relaxed while turning to face the front of the ship. "So, what's your story? It's not often we pick up undocumented travelers. Especially humans willingly working with Turians."

"There's not too much to tell; we broke out of a Batarian slave ship, ended up on Omega, pissed everyone off there, came to Elysium to work a case, and are now trying to sort it all out."

Rogers slightly grinned, "Sounds more exciting than transporting cargo."

"Only if you don't mind getting shot at every five minutes." Martin quipped. The Captain laughed and gestured for him to take a seat.

Martin sat down in the empty seat. "So your Mercenaries?" Rogers asked. "Not quite; I don't know what you'd call us. We do a little bit of everything. We moved data and sensitive items on Omega and did some bounty hunting for a bit. Now I guess we are just over our heads in bullshit."

"Must make some good credits on danger pay, considering what they put you through." Martin smiled and laughed. "Shit, you probably get paid better than I do."

"It's enough to make a living and retire; after we drop off this load, we will be picking up military supplies for the war. It pays a hell of a lot more than civilian goods." Rogers commented.

"Sounds like something I should get into once I retire."

"If you've got a good ship and crew," Rogers replied. "So, how did you two meet?"

Martin sighed before looking over at the Captain. He hoped this conversation went in a different direction than what it usually did. "We both got picked up by Batarian slavers and managed to escape. We've been stuck since."

Rogers laughed, "God works in strange ways. He often sends us little gifts to help us on our way." Martin shook his head, he hated the preachiness, and Rogers picked up on it. "I take it you're not a believer."

"We don't see eye to eye," Martin replied, staring off at the front of the ship.

"That's a shame. But I won't force it on you. People tend to get annoyed by that sort of thing."

Thank you, Captain." Martin stood up from the chair. Trying to push through the pain. "But I think I bothered you enough; I should probably get back." Rogers nodded as Martin walked to the bridge door.

He continued back through the ship and back to their quarters. He unholstered his pistol and sat down in the chair at the desk. He forced it to recline and prompted his feet up on the desk.

Velpia was fast asleep in the bunk. He had only been away for an hour at most. He didn't want to bother her. He closed his eyes and tried to get comfortable.

"Martin! Get up!" He woke and stammered to his feet out of his chair. His old WWII-era rifle in his hand. He quickly looked around, trying to get his bearings. He was in a basement where the militia had set up their HQ. "We've got enemy IFVs moving in from the North!"

"How the hell did they get behind us, McClellan?" Martin asked.

"Don't know, Dallas hasn't reported for three hours.". The sounds of mortar fire filled the spaces between the buildings as they headed outside.

"Send squads, Alpha and Delta, to slow them down. Grab whoever else to set up some defenses along the avenue. I'll grab epsilon and theta and hit the flank." McClellan nodded and ran off.

Martin grabbed the radio on his plate carrier, "Epsilon, Theta squads ready up." The city was decimated, and mounds of trash and debris covered the streets. Most of the buildings were shells of their former selves. Weeks of artillery and mortar strikes made the small city unrecognizable. The smoldering fire from the highway was still fresh in the air.

It was only a matter of time before the enemy got their act together. They had been attacking from the front for weeks now. The militia had managed to destroy five of the six bridges the separatists needed to cross their heavy armor. Martin still wanted to know where the hell they got this military equipment from.

He grabbed the men he called up and headed North West in a few trucks they had left. The ride was not smooth; the entire city was covered in ash and debris.

Once they started hearing the gunfire, the fourteen men dismounted with their weapons and took positions in what was left of the buildings.

Martin took a position on the top of the building and loaded his Lee Enfield bolt action rifle. He brought it to the window and looked down at the jerry-rigged scope.

"See anything good.?" Williams asked.

"Nope, but you'd think by now we'd know the difference between tanks and IFVs," Martin responded as he dropped down from the window.

"Tanks? When the fuck did they get tanks?" Martin slid to the hole in the floor and yelled down to the lower level.

"Jones, what do we have left for anti-tank weapons?"

"Three old ass LAW rockets, an RPG7 with six rockets, and seven mines." Williams approached his left while knelt. "We might as well throw nerf footballs at them."

Martin looked at Williams dismissively, then yelled back downstairs, "Send someone back for the Molotovs and lay those mines out every thirty yards. No one peaks out until I say so."

"Rog," Jones began ordering his squad, and Martin moved back to the wall.

"What's the plan?" Williams asked.

Martin cleared the dust off his rifle, staying out of view on the window. "McClellan will drag the convoy down here to us. They hit the mine, then we hit the rear vehicle and blast the juicy middle."

"And the tank?" Williams asked nervously.

"We'll cross that bridge when we get there."

It wasn't long until McClellan and his squads were falling back into the defenses they had set up. Martin quickly came down the stairs to meet them.

"Sir, they have four old Bradleys, one M7 tank, and about fifty infantry." Martin thought for a second, looking down at the ground.

"This squad will hold the position. I want your teams to flank out, come from the rear, and toss whatever grenades we have. We can take out the infantry and IFVs fast enough to deal with the tank with enough luck." McClellan nodded and ran back to his men.

Martin took hold of the RPG and ordered Williams to carry the rockets. Martin took two more men with him and stood behind one of the damaged buildings.

The ground began to shake as three-hundred tonnes of steel advanced slowly down the street. They were lucky this was their only avenue of advance. The other roads around their position were barricaded with dirt and debris or too small to venture through.

Soon they began hearing the enemy troop walk by with the vehicles. Finally, the tank passed last.

"Shit, the tank is last… why is the tank last!" Williams panicked.

"So they can escape."

Williams loaded Martin's RPG and removed the blast cap from the front. They waited for the signal. *BOOM* The massive explosion rocked the first vehicle. Martin rounded the corner of the building and ran down the side. The gunfire erupted from every position in front and side of the convoy. The enemy soldiers fired back and spread out.

Martin pulled the trigger of the RPG, and the quick and loud ignition of the weapon violently pushed against the air around it. The round made contact with the rear of the tank as he ran back to cover. He heard the tank quickly reverse towards him. "Run!"

The tank's turret snapped down the alley and fired as Martin dove into the back door of the building. The force of violence coming from the 125mm cannon rattled their insides. Disorienting them and making them feel sick.

Martin tried to rally his men as another explosion rocked the battlefield. They ran out of the building and headed parallel to the tank's position as it reversed down the road. Gunfire rattled their ears as McClellan's men moved forward and unloaded everything they had on the trapped separatists. The fighting moved quickly into the buildings.

Williams reloaded the RPG and handed it back to Martin. He took aim down the space between the buildings and waited for the tank to press by. Williams and the other three pressed against the wall to avoid the back blast. The tank came into view, and Martin again fired. Hitting the side of the turrets. He ducked back around, and the tank fired through the wall and exploded another building across from them. William again loaded another round and handed the weapon off to the other soldier just as two men approached.

"Anyone have that C4?" Martin asked. "Yes, sir!" The third man took off his pack and handed him a brick of the plastic explosive. Martin gathered some duct tape and the large magnet Williams found earlier last week. He taped the magnet to the C4 and ran after the tank. He signaled to Williams, and the three men engaged the tank to get its attention.

Martin bolted to the tank as it fired its heavy machine guns and main cannons to suppress the RPG team attacking it. Martin placed the explosive on the rear drive sprocket of the tank and ran. Once around the corner, the men fell back, and the third man called the cell phone attached to the explosive. They waited behind the building as it rang and rang.

"Shit," Martin said. "Fuck, now what?" Williams added.

The tank slowly pulled away about fifty feet before the explosive detonated. "Oh shit, that sounded like heaven." The third man said in celebration.

"It's not over yet. At best, it's disabled." Immediately the tank began firing at them through the building. The team pushed towards the tank as some of the separatist soldiers started to take positions around it.

The three men began firing at the soldiers while trying to stay away from the tank's turret. Martin fired his rifle into the face of one of the enemy soldiers, cycling the bolt quickly to load another round.

McClellan's squad entered from the flank and removed the remaining from the rear. The tank's crew was in a panic. The turret was frantically moving side to side to fire on them.

"What do we do now?" Williams asked.

"Hold my rifle. I'm going to do something stupid."

Martin attempted to climb up in the tank, taking care not to get spotted or whacked by the moving turret. He crawled to the front of the turret and disarmed the remote .50 cal machine gun mounted on the turret while also holding on to dear life as the tank jolted around, trying to move. He began breaking whatever optics he could with his hatchet or sidearm. The turret had stopped, and more of his men climbed on top of the tank in an attempt to pry open the tank.

Martin darted his eyes to see one of the disabled IFVs turn its turret around, "Get off the tank!" The 20mm cannon began firing. Martin jumped and dove behind a wall. "Get off the fucking tank!" He yelled frantically. The IFV's 20mm cannon fired, forcing them behind cover; body parts and red mist coated the air as the men on the tank were pulled apart.

There was nothing he could do but watch. "Martin, we have to pull back! Martin!"

"Martin! Get up!" He sprang awake, throwing his body forward, not realizing he was still injured.

"Easy! You sounded like you were having a hell of a dream," Velpia said.

Martin looked around the room and realized he had been dreaming, followed by the pain of his injuries, which he had just jolted. The cold sweat turned into heat, and his heart felt like it would burst off his chest.

He leaned forward on the desk, fighting the pain and discomfort. Clenching his fists and burning his head into his arms. "Are you alright? You were screaming in your sleep."

He didn't respond, instead wiping his face with his sleeve. He wasn't sure if he was still tense from the pain or the dream. That memory of chopped meat and the iron smell of blood was still fresh in his mind. "Yeah, I'm fine." He finally responded as he relaxed his hands.

"I don't think night terrors qualify as fine." Velpia put her hand on his shoulder as he stood up against the pain. The dream left the taste of blood in his mouth. He hadn't thought about that day in quite a while. "I'm fine, just a bad dream."

She blocked him from leaving the room and looked him in the eyes. He knew he wasn't fooling her. "One day, you're going to let me help you." Strangely he smiled, "Yeah, maybe."