Chapter 3: The Gift

Nolta heard the gunfire outside and felt his pulse increase. He had to calm down! Panic would get him nowhere. Look where it got Kala. The headache started to come back as the blood pushed through his skull harder than it had mere seconds ago. Lae could hear each pulse as it coursed through his veins. Calm. Down.

Kala stirred on the table across from him, the staccato cracks of gunshots invading her sleep. The Merc was dressed only in fatigues and Nolta sensed his heart pound even harder as he recalled having seen her face earlier. Of all the things to get worked up over in a war-zone-

A soft 'whoosh' hissed as the medical room's door slid open, revealing a pair of very angry vorcha. Kala shook her head as she recognized the belts the aliens wore. Blood Pack! With a sharp grunt, she rolled off of her table, stifling a cry as she hit the bulkhead.

The Vorcha leaned forward, trying to adjust its eyes to the almost pitch black light of the room. Nolta instinctively scurried back at the sight of the strange alien's gleaming teeth, each easily three centimeters long and tipped in wicked points. A rasping laugh emerged from one of the vorcha as it sighted on the quarian.

"Not Blood Pack, not li-"

The alien's voice was cut short as a series of pistol shots lit the room. Several small holes appeared in the creature's chest and it slumped to the ground. Nolta jerked his head towards the source of the shots and found Kala, doubled over from the pain of her wound clutching the sidearm in her good hand.

The remaining vorcha snarled and launched itself at Lae. Out of instinct, the pilgrim threw his arms forward, trying to ward off the crazed alien. To his surprise, the impact never came. It only took a second, but something hit the vorcha as it vaulted towards him. Nolta thought he saw the creature reeling back, as though someone had punched it in the gut. The Quarian blinked several times, unsure if he was dreaming.

The sharp report of the pistol caught the stunned attacker twice in the side and once in the head, sending it to the rusted deck.

Kala winced as she rested against the wall before looking over at her companion. A look of curiosity mixed with fear and exhaustion crossed her face. "How… how did you… do that?" She panted.

Nolta raised an eyebrow, though she couldn't see it through the mask. Do what?

XxXxX

Mygur let the left side of his mouth curl up in a snarl. The Turian lay limp against the bulkhead of the old cruiser. As far as the krogan could tell, the alien was not longer breathing. Still, never hurts to be certain. Mygur reached for his rifle, only to find that it had been knocked loose in the struggle. A trio of slugs sung past, narrowly missing his head.

The krogan turned to face the origin of the weapons fire only for another series of rounds to streak past. One of the shots caught on the handle of the knife that was still embedded in his neck. He lurched as the blade of the knife was wrenched across one of his spinal cords, severing his connection to his left leg and arm. A loud whump resulted from his collision with the turf beneath him, unable to maintain his balance. An instant later, another burst of rifle fire drilled into his crest, stealing his consciousness.

XxXxX

Tokus' vision was swimming as he regained consciousness, his lungs burned for air and his ribs were cracked. The Blood Pack soldier's quickness had not been surprising, nor had the strength of the blow he'd received. What had surprised him was the alien's ability to tear through several layers of tent canvas like tissue paper. Even among the stronger krogans he'd seen, such a feat would have taken at least two to three seconds. This one's motion had been near instantaneous.

Clenching his jaw against the protests of his ribcage, Voran lifted himself to his feet and hobbled over to the remains of his tent. The Krogan lay on the ground halfway to the shredded shelter, his bulky form looking like so much dirt heaped onto the planet's filthy surface.

Half of the knife's hilt still protruded from the beast's neck, its shattered shape suggesting that an explosion or rifle round had struck it. The Captain completed the short walk to his mangled shelter and found a black-red rifle. After satisfying himself that the weapon was in good repair, Tokus made a beeline for the medical room. This lone krogan was certainly not the only attacker, and the rest of the blood pack would stumble upon the medical room sooner or later.

XxXxX

Out of eighteen Blood Pack mercenaries, six were left. All but three of the assaulting force had been vorcha, two of these being a pair of krogan hand-picked by Mygur himself. Now, five vorcha and one krogan remained. The Blue Suns had suffered significant losses as well. From their full complement of twelve, the outpost had been reduced to five effectives, Tokus included.

When the Mercenary Captain arrived on the sentry level, two of his remaining soldiers were pinned by the remaining krogan. In the dim light, it took him a moment to recognize the soldiers as the outpost's doctor and sniper. Every few seconds, one of the mercs would pop from cover in a different location, just long enough to fire a few rounds to keep the krogan at bay.

With the arrival of their Captain, the two mercs decided it was time to press their luck. The sniper leaned out of cover and loosed a trio of slugs at their oppressor in quick succession as the surgeon vaulted from his hiding spot, loosing a full-auto fullisade in the hulking beast's general direction.

The sniper took a second too long to retreat to safety, and Tokus was splashed by a spray of gore as the krogan's shotgun pulverized his soldier's skull. With a shout, Voran joined his rifle fire with the doctor's, cutting into the attacker's thick hide. The krogan stumbled as a torrent of metal sliced deep into his body, destroying his insides. A second later, the hulking beast tumbled to the ground, clutching his entrails.

The doctor was panting when Tokus laid a hand on his shoulder. With a quick glance, the Captain wordlessly asked if there was anything that could be done for his fallen soldier, knowing full well that it was pointless. The surgeon answered with a somber shake of his head.

XxXxX

The outpost was indefensible. Tokus knew this as soon as his remaining personnel reported in. One rifleman, one shot-gunner, the doctor and himself were all that was left of his force. Too few to maintain an effective resistance. The last few vorcha had been easy enough to dispatch, but the Blood Pack had soldiers to throw away. This simple fact had caused him to decide that his outpost was lost.

He briefly considered calling dispatch, but dismissed the idea. Umul would tell him to hold the position anyways. The Captain found himself grimacing, not only at the thought of the batarian officer, but at the dull ache that throbbed in his ribs. Odds were, the bones were only cracked, rather than cleanly broken. He shook his head. Clean breaks were vastly preferable, cracked bones tended to heal with nodules along their outer surfaces, causing complications elsewhere. He'd probably have to have his bones deliberately broken later to help them heal properly.

Tokus entered the medical room where Kala and the quarian were resting. The sudden increase in brightness as the Captain flicked on the lights rendered both unable to see for several seconds. Almost immediately, he caught sight of the vorcha on the floor, both riddled with several bullet wounds. From the looks of things, the aliens had been killed before their bodies had a chance to regenerate.

Kala sheepishly offered the sidearm she'd used to dispatch the creatures. "You forgot this here, sir."

To her surprise, the Captain held up his hands, declining the weapon. "You've earned it kid. Taking out a pair of attackers while wounded, not easy."

Kala couldn't be sure, but she thought she caught a glimmer in his eyes, almost like they were smiling. "I… I didn't do everything, Nolta helped."

The Quarian on the other table started. "Not really, you did all the shooting."

The Turian turned to face the pilgrim and noted that the small hole in the enviro-suit had been patched with a material similar to that found on the rest of the outfit. Nolta groaned as he laid back down.

"Whatever the case, we aren't staying here any longer, Blood Pack took out more than our personnel, so we're bugging out."

"But what about dispatch? They can send us reinforcements," Kala's voice was energetic despite her injury. Tokus shook his head. The brief encounter with the vorcha had put her in a combat high, she'd still be running off of adrenaline for another few minutes. Still, he had to admire her spunk, impetuous though she was.

"Just lay back down, get rested up before we move out. We're relocating, and if dispatch has a problem with it, they can fire me. I'm not about to lose more people."

As he left the room, Voran checked his omni-tool for his pay stub. He hadn't become a merc for the money, he'd done it to out of a sense of duty. By the time he'd escaped his slavery, the Turian military had refused him on the grounds that he was suffering from a form of PTSD. Undeterred, he'd joined the Blue Suns, thinking they were the next best thing. In reality, they were just as crooked as any crime syndicate.

Still, he'd been able to keep his little band of soldiers on the straight and narrow, relatively speaking. The data on his pay stub finally pulled up. His next payment was due in four hours. He'd displace once it had cleared. The Citadel was an expensive place if you wanted to stay out of sight of the dregs and denizens that prowled the lower wards, and they'd need quality treatment for the quarian, someone who knew about their physiology.

The Turian typed a series of keys on his omni-tool, patching through the outpost's comm relay. "Serk, Voran here, I need to call in a favor."

The other turian's voice rang through the headset loud enough to cause the Captain to reel back. "Tokus! It's been too long! Whaddya need?"

XxXxX

Tokus' friend Serk had provided them with a transport craft to the citadel free of charge. The Mercenary Captain knew that if there were any place other than the migrant fleet where a doctor that could treat quarians could be found, it was here. He'd briefly asked himself why he was undergoing this inconvenience for someone he didn't know, but the memory of Kala's words reminded him swiftly. The Quarian had saved one of his people, and he was going to return the favor.

XxXxX

Dr. Sara Rommel was a young woman with brown hair and brilliant eyes that reminded Nolta of one of the artificial lakes he'd seen in pictures of the presidium. She was busy conversing with the mercenary Captain, who had taken a seat next to his injured sentry.

Nolta kept his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.

"Your surgeon did a fine job," Rommel's voice rolled from her tongue like silk. Nolta relished the gentle sound, interpreted as it was by his helmet's audio filters. "Your sentry will be back on her feet in about two weeks, though I must express the concern that she not be allowed to move her right shoulder for at least a week afterwards.

"Frankly you should be more worried about yourself. That blow to your chest cracked several ribs, they'll have to be shaved or broken completely."

Tokus nodded. "Never mind me, I've fought krogan before, this isn't the worst I've suffered."

Sara looked at him, incredulous. "Hand to hand?"

Voran nodded once. "Won too. This was the third, though I didn't quite land the killing blow. What about the quarian?"

The doctor's lively tone dropped before she answered. "If you have any attachment to him, keep him well guarded, even after he gets back on his feet. He's… special."

"Kala mentioned something to that effect. Said he pushed a vorcha back a good ten feet- without touching it."

The doctor nodded. "You mentioned how your equipment kept bugging when you tried to scan his nervous system? There is a multitude of element zero nodules on his spinal column. What you have here is a quarian biotic."

Tokus nodded. "The thought crossed my mind, dismissed it though, didn't think they could be- Biotics that is."

"They can, they're just incredibly rare."

Nolta's head swirled. They were talking about him, but why mention biotics? What little he knew about the subject consisted mostly of rumors and hearsay. It was rumored that individuals blessed with such power could level fields of enemies. Did they really think he could do that?

Author's Note:

Coming up with different names can be a real bear sometimes. I truly get sick of reading a book and finding that every fourth character is named "John" or "Jill" or some-such generic nominative. Still, one must fall back on the old mainstays occasionally to maintain a degree of familiarity for the reader, in this case, "Sara".