I'm back! Yeah, baby! Yeah! Since last I updated this story I've moved, painted walls, taken my oldest dog to the vet after she got an allergic reaction to some nasty plant and swelled up looking like a chow pei, and on top of that my internet connection totally broke down due to a thunder storm. It feels good to be back :) I hope you enjoy this chapter. I promise I wont take too long to update next time. Cheers!
Steve cursed loudly as he struggled with the controls. The clumsy shuttle was no match for the quick and agile gunship. This was a fight he couldn't win no matter how much he wanted to.
He forced the shuttle into a roll to avoid being hit by the second round released from the heavy SMG's. Via the holo-windows he caught a glimpse of the ground team being roughed up by their captors. Shepard, a small black-clad figure, lay curled up in a foetal position on the ground.
"Dammit!" He gritted his teeth against the anger that rose within him. He had to be smart. Cursing again he pressed the throttle, giving the shuttle a burst of speed that it needed to ascend, leaving the gunship and his captured friends behind to return to the Normandy that was orbiting Pragia.
Shepard was trembling. She remained curled up into a tight ball with her legs drawn to her chest. They had been tossed into the cargo hold of a shuttle. A taunting version of the rescue they had hoped for.
She could feel Garrus, Kaidan and James pressing against her, trying to give her what comfort they could. The mercs filled the shuttle with coarse, unpleasant laughter and crude jokes. They clearly enjoyed the sight of the famous Commander Shepard lying at their feet shaking with fear.
She didn't care. Let them think her weak. Broken. If they underestimated her then maybe it would give her a chance. And one chance at the right moment was all she needed.
Despite their leader's arrogance the mercs had done a poor job of checking her for weapons, focusing on grabbing at her breasts and ass instead of actually searching her. The hard handle of the army issued knife pressed into her stomach. She had grabbed it from where James had dropped it when the mercs forced them to disarm. Fools, she thought as she hid her eyes behind lowered lids. They would pay. All of them. Her fear had given way to a hot burning rage and she clung to it, not wanting to fall prey to panic and terror again.
Garrus twisted so he came face to face with Shepard. Her face was drawn, pale and her eyes half-closed behind the dark fringe of her hair. He pressed his forehead against hers, praying to the Spirits that their deaths would be clean and that they would die together. There seemed to be nothing else to hope for.
He was bleeding from a gash below his right eye and when he pulled back slightly his dark blue blood had smeared across Shepard's nose and cheek, unintentionally marking her with a primal version of the Colony tattoo that adorned his face. Love, fierce and wild and unlike anything he had ever felt burned within him and he knew right then and there that the only thing that could make him leave her side was if she ordered him to. And even then he wouldn't go willingly.
"I love you, Shepard." His voice was a whisper humming in her ears as the shuttle jerked and rattled around them when the pilot brought it down towards the landing area.
He managed to keep himself on Shepard's right side as they were dragged out of the shuttle and onto a circular platform almost completely taken over by the surrounding jungle. The mercenaries hacked their way through the foliage, clearing a path off the platform.
A thorny vine caught James across the chest tearing through the dirty, wet camouflage uniform into his skin. Instinctively he moved back to try and dislodge the long, curved thorns but the merc at his back pushed him forward and he lost his footing on the slippery moss-clad ground. His injured leg buckled and twisted under him as he struggled not to fall. Intense pain shot up from the wound as the movement tore at the infected tissue and he couldn't stop himself fro crying out.
The mercenaries laughed.
"Not so tough now, eh?" One said grinning, pulling James back on his feet.
They were herded through a gate that slid apart slowly, screeching in protest as if it hadn't been open in ages.
Kaidan caught a glimpse of James' face; the young man was pale, his jaw clenched against the pain that made him limp severely, but he seemed calm, prepared. From what little he had said about his family and his life before joining the Alliance, Kaidan concluded that physical abuse was a game the young soldier was already used to. But what about the psychological trauma of being caught by the enemy?
When James noticed the older man's eyes on him he gave him a small nod, signalling that he was okay. Kaidan nodded in return and turned his attention to Shepard. She was being half-carried, half-dragged by two mercs as if she didn't have the strength to stay on her feet. Her head was lolling, her hair hiding her face from view.
They were brought down a flight of stairs. The floor, the walls and the ceiling was stained with rust and mould and the stench of decay and stale air overwhelmed their sense of smell. The layout reminded Shepard of the Teltin facility and she filed that bit of knowledge away. The corridor at the end of the stairs was lit with a flickering, sickly yellow light. It was narrow and lined with doors leading into holding cells.
The mercenaries was going to separate them.
"No!" The same thought had occurred to Garrus and he started to struggle against his captors. The two mercs were grunting, trying to control the enraged turian. Then the leader slammed the butt of his heavy rifle across his nose and Garrus went down, blood pouring from his nostrils.
"Garrus!" Shepard's voice was shrill, mixing with the angry shouts from Kaidan and James. She captured Garrus' dazed gaze for the briefest of moments before she was shoved inside one of the small cells and the door slammed close behind her. In the darkness the lock glared red like an evil eye.
She sank down onto the cot, listening to the sound of her friends being locked up. Trying not to give in to the sickening feeling of terror.
High above the misty atmosphere of Pragia, Joker listened in as Cortez de-briefed Admiral Hackett on the failed rescue attempt.
"This is FUBAR", the crippled pilot mumbled to himself. On the holo-screen the expression on Cortez's dusky face changed from tense anger to grief.
"The gunship came out of nowhere, sir. I was forced to retreat or it would have shot me down."
"I understand, son", the Admiral's gravel-like voice came through loud and clear. "I know you did all you could." The man paused for a moment as if steeling himself then continued. "I'm getting pressure from both Alliance HQ and the Council to let Shepard and the team under Vakarian's command go."
The shock written on Cortez's face mirrored Joker's. His fingers flew over the keyboard as he patched himself in on the transmission. "What do you mean let them go?" he demanded agitated, not caring that he interrupted a senior officer. "Are you saying we should just leave them in the hands of the bastards that kidnapped Shepard?"
"Flight Lieutenant Moreau." Hackett gave the young pilot a hard look. "This is not a decision that is easy for me to make but there is a war going on. The Normandy is needed-"
"No! We won't abandon our friends!"
"Sir", Cortez said, struggling to keep his tone respectful and not give in to the rise of anger. "Shepard is a hero. The resistance need her. Joker is right. We can't just leave her and the others behind."
Hackett sighed. "The sad truth is that heroes are lost all the time. Shepard will always be a symbol of hope for the men and women fighting this war, but we can't risk losing another team or worse, the Normandy itself. We need to use everything we got against the Reapers. Shepard understood this and Advisor Vakarian, Major Alenko and Lieutenant Vega knew the risk they took when they signed up for the rescue-mission. They are soldiers, Lieutenant Moreau, and they'll expect you and the rest of the crew to act like soldiers too. HQ and the Council is expecting the Normandy to join the Crucible Project no later then 24 hours from now."
"What are you saying, sir?" Joker asked tersely.
Steven Hackett looked straight at them, his steel-grey eyes boring into Joker's on the other end of the transmission. "I'm saying you have 24 hours, Lieutenant. Hackett out."
James limped the two steps over to the narrow cot and slumped down on it, wincing at the pain when he stretched out his injured leg in front of him.
He had given up on trying to bypass the firewall that had been used to shut down his omni-tool. Without it he had no real way of telling how long they had been kept in the cramped cells but it was long enough for the darkness to creep up on them. Long enough for the despair to set in.
The walls were thin enough for him to hear Kaidan shuffling around in the cell next to his own. "You okay, Major?" He asked just loud enough for the man to hear him.
"Yeah. How about you, James? How's your leg?"
James grimaced as he moved a little. "I twisted the knee and tore the wound open. It's started bleeding again. I kind of wished I'd let you use some medi-gel on it before when we where..." His voice trailed off.
"I'm sorry."
James couldn't tell if Kaidan were apologising for feeling as if he hadn't done his duty as a medic, or if he regretted the moment of pleasure they had shared. "Don't be", he answered a little roughly. "You didn't do anything wrong." He looked up from the slowly growing stain of blood on his dirty, wet fatigues then rapped his knuckles against the wall behind him. "How about you, Scars? How are you holding up, bro?"
Garrus snorted, clearing his nostrils from the blood. "I've been through worse."
James chuckled. "I bet you have."
Garrus mandibles quivered in a small smile. He knew that James were trying to keep their spirits up and he appreciated the effort. If we get out of here I'm going to buy him a drink and tell him that he's a hell of a soldier, he promised. He leaned his head back against the wall, gingerly touching his nose. It ached with a dull throbbing, but like he had told James, he had been through worse. Having been shot in the face with a missile kind off put things in perspective, he thought wryly.
"Shepard?"
"I'm here." Her voice was quiet, muffled by the wall separating them. "I'm okay, Garrus." She had pulled her legs through the loop of her shackled arms and was holding the knife in front of her, fingers wrapped tightly around the worn handle.
"I'm sorry I couldn't stop this from happening." The dual toned voice thrilled disharmoniously, revealing the anger he felt, the guilt.
"It wasn't your fault", she replied, her eyes on the sharp blade. The cold steel reflected the faint red light coming from the omni-lock. It looked like blood. "I love you..." She spoke the words in a whisper and was surprised when he answered.
"I love you too, Shepard."
There you have it, chapter 21. I know I said that the Kaidan/James moment wouldn't tie in with the story but it keeps popping up and I feel it would be dishonest not to use it since this is an ongoing spur of the moment story. I pretty much just write what ever comes to mind and hope that the plot will sort itself out. It usually does. :)
Big thanks to CyanB for being the best Spellsaver ever. I can't believe I spelled Garrus's last name wrong. I am so embarrassed! *blush of shame*