Chapter 11: Skeletons

Solomon wrinkled his brow as he turned the device over in his hand. It was small, brown, and egg shaped. Two ports on the top of the device had been plugged into the circuit, while another attached to some kind of antenna. The old businessman's show of confusion was only partially genuine. He didn't know what the device was, by the did know who had put it there.

Nolta watched as his boss pretended to examine the device. The man was visually attempting to convey confusion, but his body language was wrong. Kincaid knew something about what he was looking at, but exactly what, was unclear.

"Ser, ef y' don't want it en th' box, I can hav et fexed en a matter o' minutes…"

Kincaid pretended not to hear him and replaced the device in the circuit breaker.

"Ser, ef y'- never mind."

Kincaid eyed the young worker and shook his head slightly. "It's fine. Just a bit confused as to why it was installed the way it was. Why don't you go in and get something to eat?"

Nolta shrugged his shoulders and headed back to the station's primary entrance. Just as the doors sealed behind him, the quarian heard a bloodcurdling scream. Kala!

Thane waited, totally motionless. The turian's words echoed in his memory, "you know I report directly to the council…". His prey had effectively claimed to be Nurem, but he couldn't be, it was too simple, too easy. A sharp scuffling sound emanated from the corner ahead, whatever was going on ahead of him remained shrouded in a curtain of obsidian black.

-Kshhh!- Thane immediately recognized the distinctive hiss of a specialized, high pressure atmospheric suit. A volus.

"But I -Kshhh!- can't go -Kshhh!- back there! -Kshhh!- I don't -Kshhh!- fit!"

A sharp order barked from the corner and the rotund alien advanced into the extremity of the drell's vision. The portly alien was visible only as a slightly lighter spot in the pitch dark of the corridor, but it was enough for the assassin to positively identify the speaker.

Immediately behind the volus, a soft orange glow flared to life, illuminating the lithe form of a female quarian, and directly behind her, the turian, brandishing a knife across her throat with a pistol in the other to keep the volus moving. "How bad do you want me, Krios? Show yourself."

Nolta rounded the corner running at full tilt, almost barreling over a petrified Solomon Kincaid. The old businessman's face was pale, both his hands were raised. It took the quarian only a moment to discern the cause for the man's fear. In the back of the room, near the bunks, Kala stood stock still, the muzzle of a Hunter VII shotgun pressed against her neck.

Nolta froze. Roddy? No, Roddy was shorter, and didn't have a scar on his face. This man bore the mark of an old wound across his right cheek.

"All right, full party's here." The man scoffed. "Glasses, you can leave, I don't have any beef with you. In fact, you helped me out by hiring these two."

Kincaid remained frozen in place, whether he was too terrified to move or standing in defiance of the intruder, Nolta couldn't tell. What he knew was that Kala had a very dangerous piece of equipment aimed at her head and he had to think fast.

"Glasses, are you deaf? I said, screw off!"

"Hostages won't help." Krios' reply was calm and quiet, brief enough to prevent his target from fixing his location. The statement wasn't a bluff either, once hostages were killed, any leverage the abductor had was gone.

The volus tried to stop but was encouraged to advance by the presence of the pistol against his suit. The drell silently backpedaled, matching his speed to that of the turian's advance. Thane kept his left hand on the wall next to him, waiting for the surface to drop away. A moment later, the wall stopped, indicating a shallow alcove in the corridor, exactly what he was looking for.

Thane slipped into the depression and stood ramrod straight. It only took another thirty seconds for the Turian's hostages to reach the position. Rikka tried to suppress a small gasp as she caught sight of a scaly green humanoid to her right. The tiny outburst was just enough to trigger the turian's reflexes and the volus slumped to the ground a millisecond later with a heavy pistol slug in his skull.

Krios lunged for the Spectre and pushed the quarian out of the way, down below the knife blade, then backwards into the alcove. Metal armaments scattered across the floor, lubricated by the growing pool of blood that was seeping from the volus' ruptured pressure suit. Rikka intensified the glow of her omni-tool and activated the flashlight unit, but the blackness of the ship's corridor seemed to swallow the light.

Kala's legs wouldn't move. She could feel the hot barrel of Tarret's shotgun pressed against her throat, angled to take her head off at the slightest twitch of his finger. The man's breath bore the foul reek of alcohol and Kala could feel the bile rising in her throat.

Nolta's voice barged into her consciousness, somewhat shaken, but authoritative nonetheless. "Everyone can walk out t' thes room alive, just put th' gun away."

Tarret's reply dripped sarcasm. "Of course, Ill set aside my year long vendetta, incur the Broker's wrath, and let you and curves here walk out like nothing happened."

"Nolta please…" Kala sobbed. Tarret's shotgun pressed harder against her skin.

"SHUT UP! GLASSES! SCREW THE HELL OFF ALREADY! YOU!" He nodded at Nolta, "HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!"

Nolta stared at Kala's trembling body. She wasn't the bravest person he'd known, but something about this particular situation had her coming unraveled. She knew the man holding her hostage. Solomon still hadn't moved.

"I bring the quarian to the Shadow Broker, he tells me where to find curves," Tarret's voice had dropped back a bit. "That was our deal, he didn't say nothin' about killin' people to one way 'er the other. You wanna die? You keep standing there."

Kincaid slowly backed away, trying to get to the door that led into the mess hall, but collided with a tall, looming beast. Solomon passed out when he realized it was a krogan.

Thane's fist flew out, catching Nurem in the chin. The turian's jaws clacked painfully and Veraidian felt his teeth piece his flesh. Another blow landed directly between his eyes followed by two more rapid fire strikes to his midsection. The Spectre rolled back and brought his leg up in a kick, catching his opponent's ribs. Thane slammed into the bulkhead, his lungs evacuated of all oxygen.

Light flashed through his eyes as Nurem spun another kick into his bruised ribs, yielding a sickening cracking sound. Even through the pain, Krios was ready for the third blow, and caught the turian's arm mid swing. A sharp twist forced the Spectre to his knee and turned him to face the quarian. Nurem knew where the next blow would come from, directly to the back of the throat, followed by a grip on his chin and a snapped neck.

Just before the drell could execute the move, Nurem summoned his biotic energies and launched a throw into the man's cracked ribs. Krios reeled back, starving for air and desperately trying to maintain consciousness against the pain.

"Well now, Barric must'a been sleeping on the job," The krogan rumbled, his deep voice identifying him immediately as Matak. "'Cept Barric never sleeps less he's s'pose to…" A dark look entered the alien's eyes and both Nolta and Tarret caught sight of the mattock in his hands. It was an archaic tool, but it was heavy and bore two sharp ends, which, in the hands of a krogan, made it a superlatively dangerous weapon.

Matak continued. "Which means he was either knocked out…" he stepped towards the intruder. "…Or killed. I don't like it when my co-workers get hurt." The look in the old krogan's eyes was downright terrifying. Tarret involuntarily stepped back.

Nolta saw his opportunity and lunged at Kala's captor. The shotgun blast went wide, driving tiny pellets into the ceiling. Before anything else could happen, Nolta lashed out with his arm, intent on pushing Kala out of harm's way. To his shock, even before he touched her, the young woman was thrown into the far wall. Nolta froze. What had he just-

Tarret's shotgun thundered and grazed Lae's environment suit. Sparks flared along the length of the quarian's kinetic barriers as the shield system was overloaded and failed. Nolta found himself hurled to the ground and a bloodcurdling roar echoed through the room. The quarian shook off the haze in his head just in time to witness Matak executed a powerful swing, sinking the tip of the mattock's blade into Tarret's shoulder and causing the man's sidearm to skitter across the floor.

The human screamed in agony as the krogan readied another strike. Before the old mining tool could finish its arc though, Tarret's shotgun thundered, once, twice, then a third time, slamming a deluge of metal into Matak's midsection. The old krogan crumpled to the ground, leaking blood from dozens of tiny holes in his stomach. Tarret walked over to Nolta and delivered a savage kick to his helmet, producing hairline fractures in his mask. Lae's world went black.

Thane dodged the first swing, then the second, then countered with one of his own. Nurem narrowly evaded the blow, rocking back on his heels to do so. In the dim light, it was nearly impossible to go on sight, and each combatant had to rely on instinct honed from years of training and field work. Rikka crouched several feet away, not wanting to stay but unable to leave.

Should she help one of them? The turian had used her as a hostage and killed the pilot, but she had no idea who the other was, or for that matter, what he was. Nall scrambled backwards as the fight worked its way over in her direction. The young woman's eyes were somewhat better suited to see in the blackened confines of the craft than were the two men battling before her.

Rikka became transfixed on the intricate dance of death being executed by the turian and the drell. Each moved with such speed, such lithe grace, it was impossible to follow all of their movements. The fight shifted so that she could catch a glimpse of the two men's eyes. The same murderous glare still lurked in Nurem's visage, while the other's face bore the marks of intense concentration and focus.

xXx

Thane finally managed to gain a few feet from his target, just enough to safely draw his knife. Veraidian lunged forward as the blade came up, etching a chrome line in the blue paint of his armor. The turian made a feint for the weapon, trying to get the drell to pull it away and create an opening, but Krios instead drove the blade forward, catching the turian by surprise. Orange light from the quarian's omni-tool gleamed off of the knife, a flaming blade in the assassin's grasp. A solid thump echoed as the Spectre was driven from his feet and into the bulkhead, blood seeping from the seal at his waist.

Thane panted as his eyes scanned the floor. The glint of dull gray metal caught his eye against the white paint on the corridor. Nurem was just coming to when Thane sighted down the barrel of the pistol. Seven muzzle flashes later, the Spectre's armor failed and a slug passed through the bottom of his right lung, stopping just past the tissue. Thane's face contorted into a scowl as Nurem sank to the floor. "Drown in the sea."

Author's note:

Thane's presence in the story is already a bit more significant than I'd guessed it would have been, but that's fine. In fact, He'll be getting at least a quarter of the next chapter in terms of screen time. And yes, his involvement will be meaningful. I didn't just throw him in for the heck of it.