It was dark. Only a single, dim luminescent strip lit the climb down toward the hatch that would allow Vega and his team to drop inside the Vesuvala freighter. The Marine struggled in the confined space, for once wishing he wasn't quite so muscular. He took each step down on the rungs of the ladder delicately, careful not to scrape against the opposite side and create any unnecessarily loud noises. The last thing he needed was to alert whoever was inside.
After a few more moments of struggling he reached the lower hatch. He had to maneuver his body into an uncomfortable position in order to get access to the hatch's lever in order to unseal it. "You guys ready?" he questioned into his mic quietly.
"Yep," Garrus confirmed.
"Sure," Tali agreed.
Vega turned the lever. It took more power than he anticipated and he had to force the handle. There was a loud click followed by a hiss and then a deep clunk that rumbled up the shaft they occupied and down into the companionway below. The noise made him cringe.
Vega dropped down with a thud, the clank of his boots impacting on the deck below echoed down an empty corridor. His weapon, an N7 Typhoon, was already up and sweeping from left to right. His eyes scanned for a potential target, but none were in sight. "Clear," he reported lowly.
Next down the shaft was Garrus. He dangled down from the hatch so the drop was only minimal, then took up a position on the left side of the corridor, Phaeston rifle drawn. He looked intently over the sights and focused in on a distant hatch at the end of the hall that most likely led to the bridge.
Tali was the last down from the chute and dropped with practiced delicacy. From the kneeling position she drew her shotgun and turned to Vega. "Ready," she reported.
They advanced in unison. Garrus took up a position on the left, Vega on the right and Tali slid behind Vega's bulky frame where she occasionally checked behind them for any possible threat that might emerge. They moved swiftly, footsteps quiet in the silence of the ship's interior. A door on the right up ahead would be their first objective. They stacked up and prepared to make entry. The door slid open with a mechanical sigh and Garrus darted inside with Vega hot on his heels. Tali held security in the hallway.
The rectangular shaped room was lined with a few beds and wall lockers. A gear case, extranet display, table and a handful of chairs were pushed off to the far right corner, but the room was void of any life forms. "Coming out," Vega said evenly.
Back in the corridor they picked up their same advance, this time Tali leading the way on the right side with Garrus to her left and Vega pulling up the rear. As they approached a door on the left Garrus prepared to stack up once more, but was startled as the door slid open and a half-dressed mercenary materialized in the frame. A weapon was stowed on his hip, but he was clearly surprised by the interlopers in the passageway. As his mouth opened to give warning to his comrades Tali took him with a shotgun blast center mass. His unarmored flesh was eviscerated by the tight spread and force of her fire. His limp body was flung backward into the room, a puff of blood red mist hovered in the air momentarily.
Garrus heard the sound of shocked voices inside, pulled the pin on a grenade and lobbed it inside. There were panicked shouts and a scrabbling sound as they attempted to flee the explosive device. It detonated, the muffled sound of the blast resonated off the walls and a small shockwave catapulted into the corridor. Garrus flowed inside only a millisecond after denotation. The sound of his Phaeston echoed loudly and after a moment he stepped out of the murk of smoke created by the blast. "Clear," he reportedly coolly.
Up ahead a fully armored individual stepped cautiously into the hall and, upon seeing the three intruders, dove back into the doorway from whence he'd come. "We've got contacts aboard," they heard him shout, presumably into a communications channel. Now they could expect the mercs to mobilize whatever forces they had aboard.
The hatch at the end of the corridor opened up and an armored clad mercenary stepped forward, identified a quarian armed with a shotgun, took aim and then collapsed into a lifeless heap just ahead of the hatch combing. A tidy gunshot from Garrus' Phaeston marred the slick veneer on the temple of his helmet. A tiny stack of smoke rose from the entry-hole. The merc didn't move.
A streak of gunfire sent Garrus bounding back into the room he'd just cleared. Three mercs poured out of a room ahead of Tali and Vega and the duo from the Normandy went to work immediately. Tali attacked with an energy drain sapping two of the mercs kinetic barriers.
Vega plodded forward, levelled his Typhoon and unleashed hell. The heavy assault rifle spewed a stream of rounds that tore into the unshielded armor of the first two gunmen. Sparks cascaded off the ablative surface before the next volley shredded the armor, penetrated flesh and chewed up their internal organs. The third merc performed an impressive roll and found cover behind a stack of containers.
"Who the hell are you guys?" the metallic flange of an angry turian's voice demanded from behind the container.
"We're here for Shepard," Vega called out. He took a knee in a nearby open doorjamb. Tali pushed across the hall and joined Garrus.
"Shepard?" the voice sounded confused for a moment. Then a loud chortle rose up from the turian's position of cover. "We figured someone would be looking for him. No matter."
"If you want to walk out of this encounter alive you'll tell me where he is," Vega warned seriously. His weapon was still trained on the containers. "And if I don't like the condition I find him in then you'd better pray."
"I was never the religious type," the turian responded immediately. "And anyway, you won't find Shepard aboard this ship. Sorry to disappoint you."
Vega turned a worried eye across the corridor to Garrus. "You're lying," he announced loudly, but his eyes were still fixated worryingly on Garrus.
"Afraid not. Shepard is an important piece of cargo. The people in charge are a careful bunch and it seems that caution was warranted."
"They must have known someone would be looking for him. That's why they split their ships in opposite directions," Garrus said through grit teeth.
"No way," James Vega muttered. His jaw locked and he felt an intense rage boiling up inside him. He chose the wrong ship. And now he was adrift in a sea of stars without a compass to guide him to his objective. Where the hell was the Commander?
"We might be able to get information off their ship's computer system," Tali offered plainly. "But it's a long shot."
"I doubt anyone this careful would have files readily on hand to help us locate the other ship," Garrus grumbled. His Phaeston was still levelled steadily on the containers, waiting for the turian to show himself.
A bright flash lit the interior of the corridor, blinding Garrus and Vega, and the turian made his move. A hot stream of gunfire scorched the bulkhead near Garrus, who was yanked back inside the hatchway by Tali. Another burst struck Vega, but rattled harmlessly off his kinetic barriers. The force of the impact was enough motivation to get him to stumble back to the safety provided by the room interior nearby. The turian ducked into the room he had originally come out of with his comrades before they'd been killed by Vega.
Once they'd recovered from the momentary shock of the flash grenade and the subsequent volley of gunfire they pursued the turian. He sprayed the hatch combing with more frantic fire and Vega countered by lobbing a fragmentation grenade into the room. The turian dove behind an overturned cabinet but the concussion from the blast was enough to disorient him. The trio from the Normandy overwhelmed him after they made entry and dominated the room with their fiercely aggressive clear.
The merc was roughly handled, his weapon kicked away from a limp and outstretched hand. Garrus and Vega turned him over and thoroughly searched him for a holdout pistol or a concealed blade, but finding nothing, restrained him with his hands behind his back and his wrists tightly clamped together. He wheezed as Garrus dragged him to his feet, feeling very much like the C-Sec officer he'd once been. He took control of the merc's restrained wrist so that he could easily manipulate it for the purposes of pain compliance in case the mercenary attempt to resist. His other claw dug into the merc's shoulder.
"Let's get him back to the Normandy for interrogation," Vega said commandingly. His hand reached up to the side of his helmet. "Traynor, can you mine their database for any useful information?"
"Negative, I don't have external access. Any mining has to be on site," Traynor informed him over comms.
Vega looked to the quarian. "Tali?"
"I'm on it." Her fingers rapidly began to tap away at the omni-tool on her forearm as she attempted to locate a terminal that would have likely access to the information she hoped was aboard. It was a task best suited for EDI and Tali felt a ping of sadness reverberate within her heart.
Vega headed for the corridor, with Garrus and the merc not far behind. This was a setback. Shepard was not aboard. He would get some crewmembers over from the Normandy to sweep every inch of the ship to confirm that, but he had a feeling the mercenary was telling the truth. These individuals were cautious professionals and they'd been right to act as they did. Unfortunately for Vega he had a fifty-fifty chance at picking the right target and he gambled wrong. He'd failed again. But that was neither here nor there. The important thing now was to face the facts. What information did he have? What information could he obtain and how could he obtain it? Despite the setbacks, the raid on the Vesuvala went well. They'd put down the mercs without taking any casualties and no undue tactical errors were made on Vega's part. Best of all he had a live prisoner and he would get the information he wanted out of the turian. Of that he was certain.
The musclebound Marine stepped back into the more brightly lit corridor and was surprised by a tremendously shocking force that struck him in the shoulder. He felt an intensely awkward feeling at the impact site. There was a sharp, intense pain coupled with a numbing of his nerves. He knew, rather than felt, that his right arm had gone limp in the same instant that he was falling backward. His armored form clattered onto the deck he'd been standing on just milliseconds before. His limp arm was trapped under his armored frame as he found himself lying on his side. Surprised eyes locked onto a thick harpoon-like spike jutting out from where his shoulder pauldron met the chest plate. Slightly in shock, his eyes drifted down the corridor and spotted an armor clad krogan clutching a Kishock Harpoon gun.
Garrus was already stepping into the corridor. Time flowed in sluggish globs despite the flurry of actions. The krogan reloaded another harpoon just as Garrus saw Vega and identified the threat. The turian reacted by kicking the restrained mercenary to the ground while simultaneously drawing his Phaeston carbine. Vega watched in a daze and saw the vague muzzle flash from the krogan's Kishock. A harpoon screamed through the air and sheared through the space just to the left Garrus' head. He let loose with an accurate burst from his weapon.
The Kishock harpoon gun is an immensely powerful and deadly weapon, but it has a slow rate of fire thanks to the fact that it requires reloading after each shot. This, perhaps, was enough to save Garrus' life. The krogan was no amateur. Without hesitation he discarded the batarian-made weapon and immediately charged toward Garrus. His armored feet pounded on the surface of the deck, giving rise to an ominous sound that echoed throughout the ship. It was just one krogan. But it sounded like a mighty herd of beasts stampeding toward the turian whose muzzle was still alight as he continued to fire. But circuitry on the krogan's armor was illumed and Focault currents surged throughout, fortifying the strength of his kinetic barrier. The added strength of the barriers helped to protect him from the Phaeston's blistering slugs, to say nothing of his thick hide and redundant organs. When he was close enough he purged the current coursing through his armor and focused the charge towards his fists. He ducked under the still-firing Phaeston, clubbed the barrel aside with a heavy hand and then throttled Garrus with a powerful shoulder charge.
Garrus nearly flipped from the sheer power of the blow. He smashed into the ground a few feet in front of the wounded Marine Lieutenant. He felt momentarily overcome.
Vega was still watching the events unfold like it were a scene acted out in slow motion. Their movement was so plodding that the display seemed to be taking place within a hardened vat of transparent ballistic gel rather than standard atmo. He tried to flex the fingers of his right hand, but felt no response. A deep pain seemed to lance out from the site of the harpoon impact and distantly his mind worried about internal injury. But the more immediate concern of the krogan still snared his attention.
Tali came through the hatch shotgun well in hand. And still, only a few seconds had passed since Vega had been harpooned. She fired two rounds which the krogan seemed to soak up with little trouble. He let out an immense roar, customary of his kind, slapped the shotgun from Tali's grip and then followed up with a series of hammer blows to the reinforced mask she wore. Vega watched the strikes find their mark. The focault currents charged up in the krogan's fists seemed to cause thundering sparks with each strike. The quarian's head lashed backward from each blow—cracks began to form in the sleek veneer of her faceplate. Tali stumbled backward into the bulkhead, overcome by the brutal onslaught.
But the krogan wasn't finished. He grasped her by the crown of her helmet and lifted her off the deck with ease. A second later and he smashed her skull against the wall she'd just braced herself upon. He repeated the motion several times and the quarian could feel her brain rattling around within her skull. He yanked a gruesome looking blade from a leather scabbard and drove it into her midsection. She let out a desperate yelp.
"Tali!" Garrus cried out, stumbling to his feet.
The krogan only chuckled as Tali went limp in his grasp. He yanked out the knife, cast her aside like refuse and turned to face Garrus just as he rushed in. A flurry of blows followed as Garrus put all of his hand-to-hand training to work. He landed several blows, but the krogan's thick armored skull plating and barbarous nature protected him from all but a few. Those that did land cleanly weren't strong enough to affect the monster. Other attacks he shrugged off or casually blocked as if Garrus were just a plaything.
Then he lashed out with his bloodied blade.
Garrus leapt backward, narrowly averting a slash to his guts. His armor would protect him from glancing slashes or cuts, but the krogan possessed the strength to drive that edged weapon through the ablative material. The cat and mouse game of slash and dodge continued for a few more moments. A few cuts marred the face of Garrus' armor and a stab that hadn't landed squarely managed to open a gash on the turian's arm, but he continued to respond with his own attacks when the opportunity arose.
The krogan, as if entertained by the charade for a time, finally grew tired of it all. He closed the distance on Garrus making it impossible for him to dodge anymore attacks in the close confines of the ship's corridor. Garrus bounced a few punches off the krogan's head as he drew nearer, but the merc just wore each blow like they were nothing at all. A heavy armored punch to the gut had Garrus doubled over. The shot was like a piston to his torso. The air had evacuated from his lungs. A swift vertical elbow strike caught him in the forehead and he reeled backward into the wall. The krogan was on him, hand clasped tightly around the turian's throat. His other claws were wrapped tightly around the knife still wet with Tali's blood. He drew the arm back just as he'd done with the quarian. The pain was intense. It felt like fire cutting through flesh. The blade penetrated to the lower right quadrant of his abdomen. With teeth grit he let out a hoarse groan.
"Garrus," Vega moaned, still lying on the deck. The blinding pain in his own body seemed to overcome the immense attempts he made to get up. With all his might Vega hurled his shotgun at the turian, whose hands were free.
Garrus' eyes were drawn to the sound of his name being called by the Marine. Immediately he saw the Crusader shotgun cartwheeling through the air. It was still extending into its full form in flight. Garrus reached out caught the hefty weapon jammed it up under the krogan's jaw and pulled the trigger.
The upper portion of the krogan's skull evaporated in a mist of flesh, brain and shattered skull fragments. The body hung there momentarily. The stout neck was like that of a tree trunk sawn clean through by a lumberjack's laser cut. Cartilage oozed blood and the thick stump of the krogan's spine wrapped in tendon and muscle twitched erratically. His limbs went limb and the headless monster collapsed into a heap.
Garrus remained standing for only a moment, then buckled onto the corpse of the krogan. The deadly blade was still buried deep in his thoracic cavity. He let out a tremendous groan and muttered Tali's name, but there was no reply.
"Joker," Vega mouthed into his comm-system. He still had no feeling in his right arm and could feel his body going cold. He must have been losing a lot of blood. He rolled over onto his back and stared blankly at the ceiling of the corridor. "Joker, we need immediate medical assistance aboard the Vesuvala." The words tumbled from his quivering lips, barely louder than a hoarse whisper.
There was silence for several moments. "Copy that, Lieutenant," Joker replied, his tone tinged with urgency. "I'll get Lt. Collins on it right away. And Doctor Chakwas too. Just hang on guys."
"I want a search team with them too. This ship isn't entirely secure," Vega added lastly, the struggle to stay awake was overwhelming and yet the responsibilities of command were not lost.
"Okay, okay. You got it, sir."
"Good," Vega muttered with a heavy sigh. His exhausted left arm fell away from the side of his head and went limp beside his muscular frame.