James pulls in a deep breath and releases it slowly, allowing his eyes to close. Okay, focus. He thinks about the room, about the hard floor beneath him and the bare walls close on all sides, resonating with the thrum of the ship's engine. He tries to picture the piece of metal before him, a little golden circle split by a three-forked line. Lift. Lift, rise.
James furrows his eyebrows, concentrates until his head aches, and then, tentatively, opens his eyes. The medallion rests firmly on the deck, mockingly indifferent to his efforts. James sighs, uncrossing his legs and letting his elbows rest on his knees. "What's so different this time?" he asks the medallion.
The obvious answer, of course, is that Darius was completely wrong about him and that the episode in the mine was a fluke, a freak anomaly of nature never to be repeated. Despite the sense that this makes, James can't help but feel a bitter twinge of disappointment. For just a moment, he really did believe he would be able to move the medallion, that maybe Darius was right and there was something special about him. Never expect anything to go right, it just makes everything hurt more later.
The portal to the medical lab opens suddenly with a hiss, and the woman with the sleek, black armor strides in. She bows stiffly to James, straightening quickly tucking her braid back over her shoulder. "Hello, brother. We are docking with the Archon. You must come to meet captain Hendrickson."
James scrambles to his feet, snatching up the medallion and shoving it into the pocket of his cargo pants. He nods to the woman, who turns and leads him out of the medical bay. As James follows her armored footsteps down the narrow corridor, he can't help but wonder what will happen when the captain realizes that James has no biotic ability whatsoever. From what he's heard so far, captain Hendrickson sounds to James like some sort of priest or religious figure. Surely he'll be able to see through James in a moment.
When they come to the bridge, the rest of the mining crew is already assembled in a tight cluster, their wrists bound with plastic zip ties. Joseph is holding his fearsome helmet under his arm this time, effortlessly shouldering his huge rifle with the other arm. He looks up as they enter, instantly locking eyes with James. "Brother," he calls. "How are you feeling?"
James takes a moment to examine the man's face. His features are surprisingly smooth, his face long and rounded with no hint of a beard or moustache. Nut-brown skin, unmarred by freckles or scars, accompanies a head of short, curly black hair and two dark brown eyes. "I'm alright," answers James, doing his best to keep eye contact. The man's stare is intense, and something about it makes James very uncomfortable.
Joseph nods. "That is well. In a few moments you will speak with our captain, and all will be made clear. Come, join me. Docking procedures are nearly finished."
Put off by man's archaic speech, which strikes James as unnecessary and pretentious, and by his gun and its foot-long bayonet, which is just plain frightening, James uncomfortably takes his place by Joseph's side. He can feel the miners' stares boring into his back, and he wonders what they could possibly be thinking about all of this. For that matter, he still has no idea what to think, but at least he seems to be in these people's good graces for the time being. Until they find out I'm not a biotic and throw me out the airlock.
Now Joseph raises the arm holding his helmet and speaks into his suit gauntlet. James notices no flicker of orange that might indicate an omni-tool. A physical microphone? Is his suit really that old?
"We request permission to come aboard, captain," says Joseph, enunciating loudly into the ancient comm link.
"Just a moment, lieutenant," crackles the reply. "I'm sending some hostages out to you. After your debriefing I'd like you to take them planetside with you. There are more hostiles than we had counted on down there and we could use the leverage."
"As you command, sir. I also have a number of prisoners in my own charge."
"Well, put mine with yours, lock them all away, and then come aboard," says the captain's voice, sounding just a little impatient. "I'm opening the airlock now. Some of them are injured, and I haven't had time to give any medical attention. Have one of your men take care of those who need it."
"As you command." Joseph nods to Darius. "Brother, see to it."
There's a beep from the airlock, and the light on the panel turns green. Joseph hefts his enormous helmet, dropping it over his head and locking the seals in place with a few quick motions. Then he taps the panel of the airlock, stepping back and raising his rifle.
The door chirps, sliding upward in a cloud of steam as the vacuum seal releases. James shields his eyes as bright white light floods the dim starship bridge. Figures stand clustered together, silhouetted against the brilliant white and obscured by curling tendrils of steam. As James feels his eyesight begin to adjust he picks out the gleam of visors, armor plates, the telltale bundles of hosing he's learned to recognize. Quarians?
His mind spinning, James looks from face to helmeted face. The quarians are armored just like the ones he's seen before, except in much worse condition. They seem to sag, lacking any of the intimidating discipline of the quarian marines that had captured him and the rest of Vin's crew what seems like years ago now. None of the masks are familiar to James, and certainly none of them belong to Kal. He starts to breath again.
"Step forward," barks Joseph, motioning with the serrated tip of his bayonet. The battered quarians exchange glances.
"Don't do anything stupid," says Darius. "Nobody needs to get hurt worse than they are already."
Off in the glaring light behind the quarians, inside the belly of the other ship, there's a flutter of movement. James squints, peering past the cluster of wounded soldiers. A trio of humans are standing watch over the quarians, assault rifles at the ready, their attention fixed on the proceedings in the airlock. Behind them, at the very corner of the room, something is moving ever so slightly. As James watches, a shadow detaches itself noiselessly from the wall and begins creeping slowly toward the humans.
Nobody else on the flight deck seems to have noticed. All eyes are on the quarian captives as they inch forward, the healthy supporting the wounded, some visibly limping. All eyes save two, that is. As the shadow moves closer Darius suddenly perks up, his eyes snapping to the steadily moving figure aboard the other ship. "Hey!" he calls, and his arm flies up.
It seems to James that there's a sudden change in air pressure as Darius's empty hand flexes, light seeming to contort around it and then burst outward, surrounding the his body in a deep purple glow.
The humans on the other side of the airlock raise their weapons, confused, as behind them the dark figure breaks from the shadows and hurls itself toward them. James catches a flash of red, hears a strangled scream as one of the armored bodies crumples, and then Joseph's gauntleted hand slams into his chest, shoving him aside. He falls to the deck, pain exploding in his ribcage, and Joseph steps past him, raising his gun and bellowing at the humans. "Get out of the way, you fools!"
In one moment the entire scene bursts into pandemonium. Joseph's crew cluster toward the airlock, trying to get a fix on the commotion aboard the other ship and leaving the miners unattended while the quarians, taking advantage of the confusion, burst through the airlock and onto the Ariadne. James pushes himself to his knees, trying to see through the crowd of bodies and wondering absentmindedly what a cracked rib feels like. On the other side of the airlock one of the two remaining guards is clutching his neck, bright arterial blood painting the deck around him. The other man is struggling for control of his rifle with a slim quarian. The woman in black fires through the fleeing prisoners, missing the quarian and striking the human in the thigh. The man screams and the quarian twists, wrestling the rifle out of his hands and jamming a short knife up under the chin of his helmet.
Joseph roars in anger, firing a deafening volley of shots into the chaos just as McCormick barrels into him from the side, jarring his arm and sending the rounds careening off of the walls and ceiling. The acrid stink of the ancient gunpowder weapon fills James's nose and eyes and he scrambles back, trying to avoid being hit by the ricocheting metal hornets. Joseph turns, beating McCormick down with the stock of his rifle and then thrusting the bayonet into the man's stomach. McCormick screams, grabbing at the rifle barrel as Joseph steps down on his leg with a crunch and tears the blade free. Joseph's crew turn wildly, trying to ward off the quarian prisoners and the miners at the same time as the armed quarian vanishes back into the other ship. Amid the absolute chaos, a path clears for just a second and James catches a glimpse through the melee of tangled silver hair and a red suit. A pair of silver eyes, burning with pale light stare back at him through the mess of matted hair, and James finds that he suddenly cannot move. Kal.
The moment hangs for a moment, suspended in time like the first drop at the crest of a falling wave. James can do nothing but stare, afraid to blink, afraid to breathe.
"JAMES!"