Omega.
It was, as Miranda so eloquently put it, a pisshole. Shepard paused by the rail overlooking the main thorough fare of the station, resting her elbows on it and feeling her jaw clench with irritation and weariness. She'd been feeling tired ever she woke up in that Cerberus base. Maybe dying was just exhausting, no matter how you did it, or whether you stayed that way. But the frustration was slowly eating away at her, that skin-twitching sensation of time slowly ticking away from her. How long did they have? And they were wasting it on wild goose chases for the hand-picked specialists that the Illusive Man claimed they 'had' to have. Shepard figured it would be a cold day in hell before she trusted anyone Cerberus recommended.
She had a team, a damn fine one. She'd worked hard to turn a disparate group of aliens and dubious allies into a cohesive group, earning their loyalty in blood and sweat. Them, she trusted. Shepard didn't think she had it in her to go through it all again, even if these Cerberus monkeys had any loyalty she could win.
The Commander pushed away from the rail, eyes slanting across to Miranda. The woman stared back, her face a delicate mask, eyes giving nothing away. With a sigh, Shepard turned towards the transport bay the mercs had pointed her towards. She was heading into a fire fight with enemy at her back. They'd been useful at Freedom's Progress, she'd give them that. But it still made Shepard's spine itch to turn her back on Miranda. Heading towards the transport bay, Shepard distracted herself from the long-term worries by focussing on the mission at hand. That was how she'd made it through last time. Seemed a good recipe to stick to this time around.
The transport ride to where the merc's were rendezvousing for their combined attack on the interloper, Archangel, passed in silence. Which at least gave Shepard plenty of time to prepare. The Illusive Man's dossier on this "Archangel" character had been bare bones indeed, focussing on his combat expertise, with no information on his history, allegiances or loyalties. Would he, like Tali, turn his back on them once the name Cerberus reared its ugly head? Or, as a merc, would he even give a damn if they could get him out of this tight spot and offer him a decent pay check? Commander Shepard swiftly reviewed what she had learned from Alia, neatly slicing isolated comments and bits of information together to form the basic framework of this Archangel person.
A trouble-maker, no doubt about it. And a risk taker, willing to be bold when it was unexpected. Royally pissing off all three merc groups on Omega spoke of either a brilliant master plan as yet unrevealed, or novice level stupidity. Given that he'd made it this long, Shepard was confident he wasn't a rookie.
The rumble of the transport setting down brought her into focus. Either way, she'd find out soon enough. Between Miranda, Jacob and herself (assuming they didn't shoot her in the back), they could handle pretty much anything on this base. Shepard climbed out of the transport and stepped into the face of an unexpectedly respectful invitation to go speak to Sergeant Cathka, the Blue Sun mechanic currently trying to fix a gunship for the final assault.
A gunship? They need a gunship to take out one guy? Who the hell is he, Saren reincarnated? Shepard glanced thoughtfully in the direction indicated and nodded, heading out as though that were her immediate destination.
It wasn't. She preferred a great deal more intel before walking across a suicide bridge. "Commander," EDI's synthetic voice broke across her ear piece politely, and all three paused in their progress to listen to the AI's confirmation that the only way to Archangel was over that bridge.
Great, she thought irritably. That made it even more important to get information on what this unholy trio of merc groups had thought up together. Shepard mentally geared herself up, exchanging a quick glance with her Cerberus offsiders, readying a tough, no-nonsense attitude likely to get the best results. They set off through the staging area. Either the mercs were even more distracted than she expected (was this Archangel guy really such a problem for them?), or having a freelancer who could actually handle a gun impressed them enough to brief her on the plan of attack.
Enough, at least, to give Shepard an idea of what would be coming their way once they crossed the bridge and got to Archangel. That would be the easy part. Assuming he didn't shoot them as soon as they got there, all four of them would still have to get out again. Jacob was a bit nervous about the getting out again part of it all.
Turned out, the plan was fairly straightforward. Let the freelancers – Shepard's crew and the pack of incompetents waiting by the barricade – distract Archangel by trying to get across the corpse-ridden bridge which was the only access point to Archangel's current retreat. They were cannon fodder, to keep Archangel occupied while the mercs' infiltration team already across the bridge took out their prey. Eclipse mercs provided the first wave, and would direct their Mechs after Archangel. If they failed, the Blood Pack would make their move. And if that didn't take Archangel out, the Blue Suns would move in. With their trusty gunship at their back.
Chatty mercs are my favourite kind, Shepard thought with a faint grin of satisfaction as she hacked open a door in an empty corridor, smirking to find her prize. The hulking YMIR Mech, pride of the Eclipse armory, stared blindly black at her from where it rested quiescent in its cradle. Cracking her knuckles, Shepard moved to the control station linked into the mech's computer to see what mischief she could cause here. Miranda and Jacob quickly took up guard positions by the door, to keep an eye out for any passing mercs. So far they'd been too distracted by the mission at hand and their own petty in-fighting to notice anything unusual about Shepard and her team. Except that they weren't rookies, of course.
"Gotcha," Shepard muttered, her eyes gleaming gleefully when she got free access to the Friend-or-Foe system of the mech's controls. A little elegant hacking through the command protocols and they had themselves an ace in the hole. Maybe even one that could take out that gunship... Either way, it would go haywire when Eclipse sent it in, and push the odds a little more in their favour.
"Let's go," she snapped to the Cerberus duo, catching the quick glance they exchanged. Maybe they'd expected this to be a shoot-em-up and nothing more. Shepard snorted as she led the way back to Cathka and that pesky gunship. Brains counted more than all the guns in the galaxy.
Brains, a little opportunity, and a big dose of poor impulse control. Five minutes later, Shepard let the welder and Cathka – now forcibly attached to one another in a shuddering, arcing heap – drop from her grip and crash to the floor. She didn't regret taking the mechanic out, nor did she regret stabbing him in the back (literally). Shepard met Miranda's eyes briefly but said nothing, lifting her chin and leading them around the hulk of the unrepaired gunship to where the freelancers had assembled. In pretty short order, the entire merc coalition would know the score, and if that gunship was out of commission, they stood a better chance of getting out of her alive.
Sorry Cathka, she offered silently but Shepard found she couldn't really bring herself to care. He was a bad guy. Just another merc, standing between her and her mission. That was becoming a dangerous place to be. Shepard could feel all the reasons and justifications and protestations that kept her ruthlessness within moral boundaries beginning to slide away. There wasn't really much of a point to play by the rules when nobody else did, was there? Cerberus didn't. When even her allies didn't give a damn how she got the job done, as long as she did, was there any point in holding to obsolete and arbitrary rules of engagement?
Shepard and her team made their way to the third barrier, where the other freelancers milled about nervously. The Commander cast a knowledgeable eye over them, not overly impressed by what she saw. They were the hangers-on of Omega; the wannabes, the never-were's, and could-have-beens of the merc world. Some of them may have handled a gun before, but she'd bet her last thermal clip that none of them had ever been in a fire fight like this was going to be before. Half of them would panic, dive for cover and cower there until Archangel picked them off with his sniper rifle. The other half would make stupid mistakes - let bravado and fear push them into foolish mistakes - and either the sniper or Shepard's team, would take them out.
Shepard spared a moment to distantly regret that she would soon have to kill them all.
She gripped her assault rifle firmly, settling it into her arms with the ease of long familiarity. In peripheral vision, she saw Miranda and Jacob draw their weapons with a similar confidence... and it still puzzled her where Miranda's combat training came from... She lifted her head to peer up and over the barrier, surveying the ground they'd have to cover.
The bridge was long and narrow, littered with the corpses of freelancers who'd been corralled down there previously. There were tumbled crates and fallen mechs, bits and pieces of cover here and there for someone who knew how to use them. Her eyes slid upwards to the overhanging walkway jutting out from the building Archangel had holed himself up in. Yes, she could see the bright blue armoured figure there, crouched carefully to minimise his exposure. A perfect sniper's position. And he was good, Shepard had gathered that much. Getting past him would be more difficult than taking out the freelancers.
Then they were off.
As agreed previously, Shepard and her Cerberus offsiders held back to allow the other freelancers to funnel their way down the suicide bridge. Her scope rested frequently on the rookies ahead of her, as she dodged from cover to cover. Eyes darting upwards to where the sniper in bright blue turian armor rested comfortably. More often than not, when Shepard came close to squeezing the trigger to take out a freelancer ahead of her, she found their body jerking suddenly from sniper-fire from above.
Archangel, bringing death from above.
She grinned whimsically to herself. However, the truth was he had the superior position and their cover down here was minimal. He'd take out the rookies first, but Shepard and her crew were exposed and at risk unless they made it clear they were on his side fairly quickly. She lifted her rifle, catching a clear shot of a more-skilled-than-most freelancer ahead of her; her finger squeezed sharply on the trigger. The batarian's head exploded in a burst of gore, the body dropping heavily to the ground. It was the signal to Miranda and Jacob, who let loose with the more elegant biotic approach to the matter.
See that, Archangel? Shepard thought towards the sniper in his blue armor, as she darted further along the bridge, creeping along the minimal bits of cover available. We're on your side. Don't shoot us yet.
Maybe he heard her, or maybe their actions were peculiar enough that he just didn't know what to make of them. She could hear shouts from the mercs behind them, as chaos spread through the camp with recognition that they were allies to Archangel.
That's right, you stupid sons of bitches. And you let us right into his camp. Doesn't it suck to be you right now?
She took another shot at a freelancer in front of her, even as the thinning group of novices started to realize they're in a worse situation than they expected. Trapped between an expert sniper with an excellent vantage point, and a trio of skilled soldiers at their backs. The poor bastards tried to run and find cover, but some of them were still so intent on getting inside Archangel's base that they didn't pay any attention to what was behind them. Shepard took out three, in between making careful but quick progress across the bridge. Archangel seemed to be restricting his shots to the rookies – or so she thought until a very deliberate shot from above knocked out her shields.
"Hey!" The yell broke from her lips involuntarily, indignantly. Shepard snarled under her breath and made a dive for cover directly beneath the overhanging office where Archangel had taken up position. She was out of his scope at least, able to breathe a bit more carefully. That twitching back-of-the-neck shiver faded sluggishly as the Commander checked on her team. Miranda nodded once, Jacob gave her a thumbs up before letting off a blast of biotics that yanked a freelancer off his feet, and dumped him in a broken-necked tangle at the base of the stairs. Shepard spared a swift look over the area, figuring it must have been some kind of office or communal lounge before Archangel repurposed it for his own needs. It was all open plan, furnished with comfy looking couches that were now all shot to hell, utilitarian shelving and ornamental artificial plants intended to give the place some life. They were even more pathetic than usual with the plastic leaves shot full of holes.
Weapons out, Shepard and her team carefully moved through the edge of Archangel's base. A flick of her eyes showed the doors at this level were all on lockdown, keeping the mercs from getting access any way but the front door: the suicide bridge. Overhead there came another sharp bang, followed by a dull thud as Archangel's shot found its mark in another freelancer pinned down on the bridge. Miranda covered their backs, and Shepard took point, but the sharp snap of sniper fire told them Archangel hadn't moved. She'd worried that once he realized they'd made it over the bridge, he'd leave off killing newbies to come investigate.
Good. Sounded like he'd figured out they weren't here to kill him. She locked the assault rifle back into its holster and swapped it for her pistol. If he did get argumentative, she'd rather be holding a weapon less capable of slicing through his armor. It just seemed rude to come calling with a job offer in one hand and an assault rifle in the other.
So with pistol in hand and up at the ready, Shepard edged around the corner into the main office that held Archangel's vantage point for sniping the bridge. Her first clear view of him showed the blue armor reflecting dully under the flickering overhead lights. The turian appeared to be ignoring them, though she had no doubt he knew they were there. His helmeted head was turned towards the bridge below; the sniper rifle cradled carefully against his shoulder.
Shepard's eyes narrowed suddenly as Miranda and Jacob pulled up behind her.
"Archangel?" the Spectre called, gun still trained on him, but her voice held suspicion. Something about that pose, the smooth surety of motion, the confidence... the tilt of the head as the turian leaned into the scope of his rifle to take out the last freelancer on the bridge. It all rang bells in the back of her head, familiar like something she had seen countless times before. Seen out of the corner of her eye on a hundred battlefields...
The suspicion blossomed in her mind as "Archangel" dropped the butt of his rifle to the shoulder plate of his armor, pausing for a single moment before he squeezed the trigger with calm precision. Behind that helmet, she knew that pause had been for a single exhalation as he sighted down the scope. The cut-off scream and distant thud of the target hitting the ground below was an unnecessary confirmation. Shepard had known he'd make the kill before he even touched the trigger; she'd seen him do it too many times in the past to doubt him now.
Without any hint of concern, the armoured turian stood back up and turned in their direction. He didn't say anything, but reached up to unclasp his helmet. Shepard felt a smirk start to tug at her lips as the knowledge solidified within her. She knew without a doubt what she would see, even before the helmet eased off to reveal familiar blue clan tattoos, and the scope over the left eye. Shepard couldn't have held back her smile to save her life.
"Archangel" dropped himself down onto an overturned crate, lazily propping one foot up on another crate and leaning casually on his rifle. The sudden feeling of release startled Shepard as she feasted her gaze on him. As though something cold and tight and hard wrapped around her chest had suddenly let go. As though she could breathe again.
"Shepard," the sniper drawled, those alien eyes meeting hers sardonically. "I thought you were dead." Oh, the voice was deadpan, but those eyes gleamed with laughter.
And that was it. The dam broke. Shepard's smile broadened into a huge grin; she felt her shoulders straighten and her muscles relax as the weight of the galaxy slid off them. The sudden sense of relief was so vivid that she threw her arms up wide in ebullience, damned close to wanting to hug him in sheer delight at seeing a friend again. Someone to trust. Sure, they were now in just as difficult a situation as he was, pinned down in this little hellhole, with three separate bands of mercs teaming up to take them down, a YMIR mech and a gunship both headed their way... but suddenly none of that mattered. Suddenly, she wasn't alone.
"Garrus!" She stepped towards him, grinning. Miranda and Jacob half-followed her, unsure what exactly was going on. "What're you doing here?"
Garrus Vakarian, former C-Sec officer and part of the team that helped her take down Saren and Sovereign, save the Citadel, the Council and the galaxy at large, looked back at her. "Just keeping my skills sharp. A little target practice," he replied with every effort at coming off the gallant hero, but his voice cracked in exhaustion, and as she moved forward and light flickered over his face, Shepard could see the weariness in him.
She frowned. "You okay?"
His mandibles twitched into a tired smile. Or what passed as such on a turian face. "Been better," he admitted, glancing down. Shepard had a feeling that was an admission that wouldn't have come to just anyone. "Killing mercs is hard work, especially on my own." Garrus looked back up, glanced over Miranda and Jacob and locked his gaze onto her gratefully. "Sure is good to see a friendly face."
At that, she grinned again. Back in the old days, she and Garrus had never been all that close. She'd been too focussed on the mission, and her brief periods of downtime had been spent with Alenko. But he'd been with her, on too many missions to count. He'd held her life in his hands, and she'd held his. They'd been allies, friends. There had always been something about him, something solid and dependable. He had always been her rock, steady in the heat of battle, sure in his sense of rightness. Loyal.
That was it. Loyal. Shepard looked at him intently, feeling his words resonate through her. Yeah. It sure was good to see a friendly face again. For the first time since waking up in Miranda's lab, Shepard felt hopeful about the future. If she could have Garrus at her back, she wouldn't have to worry about Cerberus turning on her; she'd know she had someone to cover her. The Commander let the tension ease from her body and nodded once, to herself. If she could get Garrus to look past the Cerberus thing and join up, just maybe they could make this thing work. But first, they'd have to get out of here.
"What are you doing on Omega, anyway?" First things first. Get the intel.
Behind the scope eyepiece, his eyes flashed with humor as he recognised her familiar down-to-business tone. Recognised and appreciated it, from the way he nodded back. "I got fed up with all the bureaucratic crap on the Citadel. Figured I could do more good on my own. At least it's not hard to find criminals here. All I have to do is point my gun and shoot."
Well, that was a bit... unexpected. Garrus had always seemed such a stickler for the rules, by-the-book, all the time, every time. Shepard eyed him curiously, the smirk still dancing about her mouth. "Since when did you start calling yourself Archangel?"
The damn turian actually managed to look embarrassed. Dipping his head wryly to hide the amused twitch of his mandibles. "It's just a name the locals gave me. For all of my good deeds" He coughed in embarrassment, but met her gaze with one that danced with humor. "I don't mind it, but please... It's just 'Garrus' to you."
"How'd you manage to piss off every major merc organisation in the Terminus systems?" she threw back at him, with the barest hint of laughter edging her voice.
"It wasn't easy!" Garrus admitted. Something in his voice, laughter or self-mockery, spoke of the changes the last two years had wrought in him. "I really had to work at it. I am amazed that they teamed up to fight me though. They must really hate me."
Hate him enough to work together, pool their funds to pay for freelancers, share their equipment and resources... Yeah, Garrus had always been good at pissing people off, and never one to step down in the face of a fight.
Shepard shook her head in amazement. "You nailed me good a couple times, by the way," she admitted, wondering what he'd been thinking when he saw her show up.
Garrus grinned back at her, not even trying to sound apologetic. "Concussive rounds only. No harm done. Didn't want the mercs getting suspicious."
She smirked. "Uh-huh.' The ones behind her, anyway.
"If I'd wanted to do more than take your shields down, I'd have done it," Garrus drawled back at her, the tilt of his head bringing the scope over his left eye into the light. A quick reminder that he'd had her in his scopes. Seen the Cerberus insignia. And trusted her enough to let her approach. His mandibles shifted into that turian smile again as he straightened and changed the subject. "Besides, you were taking your sweet time. I needed to get you moving."
"Well, we got here," Shepard acknowledged, letting the topic slide. If he came with them, time enough to get into it later. "But I don't think getting out will be as easy."
Garrus sighed, and reached for his rifle. "No, it won't. That bridge has saved my life, funnelling all those witless idiots into scope." He stood and gestured for her to join him at the walkway that overlooked the bridge. "But... it works both ways. They'll slaughter us if we try to get out that way."
Shepard surveyed the bridge from this vantage point. He'd done well for himself, even after the unfortunate mistake of getting pinned down here. Locking down all access points except this one kept him safer than locking himself behind solid iridium walls. The height, the angle, was perfect. From up here, Shepard could see how he'd managed to get those shots off that had taken down her shields. Even the overturned crates didn't provide sufficient cover from his position. But he was right. Her gaze slid down the length of the littered bridge and to the barricade formed by the mercs at the other end. They had a position that was maybe not as perfect... but they had the numbers to make up for it. Any progress down that bridge would see their brains splattered all over it in under a minute.
"We can't just sit here and wait for them to come to us," Jacob intervened from over her shoulder.
Garrus eyed him carefully. "It's not all that bad. This place has held them off so far... And with the three of you..." He turned to look at them fully, resting his attention on Shepard. He knew who was in charge. "I suggest we hold this location, wait for a crack in their defences and take our chances. It's not a perfect plan. But it's a plan."
She considered their options quickly, acknowledging the point he made. They didn't have forever to wait here, and take the mercs out at their leisure. Garrus had held them off for a day already. Shepard didn't want to still be here this time tomorrow. "How'd you let yourself get into this position?" she asked.
"My feelings got in the way of my better judgement," Garrus answered flatly, and she looked at him in surprise. He looked back at her, uncomfortable, awkward, annoyed.. but somehow still challenging. "It's a long story. I'll make you a deal. You get me out of here alive, and I'll tell you the whole damned thing."
She didn't hesitate for a second. He was willing to put himself in her hands again, to trust her even showing up with Cerberus. That light-hearted feeling was still bouncing about in her chest like the Mako over the mountains of a low-grav world, and Shepard let herself enjoy it. For the moment, with Garrus at her side, she figured she could take on the entire Omega station and still have time for a quick drink.
Shepard grinned up at her tall, armoured turian friend. "I didn't like sneakin' anyway. Time to spill a little merc blood."
The answering smile, the vicious gleam echoing back at her from Garrus' eyes, was all the reward she needed. "Glad to see you haven't changed. Let's see what they're up to..."
He turned towards the bridge again, lifting his rifle up to peer through the scope. "Hmm. Looks like they know their infiltration team failed... Take a look." Garrus handed her the weapon and she took it easily, hefting it to her shoulder and glancing down the line of the scope. This was the same old rifle, but he'd upgraded the scope. "Scouts. Eclipse, I think."
Shepard studied the three figures cautiously creeping over the barricade at the far end of the bridge and shook her head, handing the rifle back. "That looks like a lot more than scouts." LOKI Mechs, she'd recognise them anywhere.
Garrus grimaced. "Indeed. We better get ready. I'll stay up here. I can do a lot of damage from this vantage point." Well, no question there. He'd held off three merc teams and countless freelancers for an entire day. "You.." The turian turned to look over at her warmly, his low, lazy drawl threading with affection. "You can do what you do best. Just like old times, Shepard!"
With a quick grin, Shepard spun to give directions to Miranda and Jacob to cover the other approaches. Hell, she thought to herself, even as she ducked and clambered over crates to get to a better position. Maybe she'd been too hard on those two. They'd had her back so far, they'd followed orders. Jacob had even admitted he didn't fully trust Cerberus. If she'd managed to turn a dedicated C-Sec officer into a loyal ally willing to help her steal a ship under Citadel lockdown, surely she could win Miranda and Jacob to her side too. And in the meantime, they'd help her get Garrus out of here.
"Let's give these bastards everything we've got," Garrus snarled into his scope as Miranda opened fire to the left on the Mechs. Shepard exhaled down the length of her gun, grinned to herself, and squeezed the trigger. Yeah. She was going to enjoy this.
The fight was short, nasty, and bloody. Well, bloody for the Eclipse. Say what you like about Cerberus, they trained their people well, and outfitted them with expensive equipment. Shepard's team had advanced skills, and superior firepower. Miranda's biotics and their firepower took down the mech's and the subsequent wave of Eclipse troopers without any of their crew taking a shot. Shepard was just starting to feel cautiously optimistic about their chances of getting out before dinner when the Eclipse merc boss pulled out the big guns.
The YMIR Mech was lowered into place at the edge of the bridge, and Shepard caught Garrus' worried comment. "Don't worry," she muttered back at him. "That problem should take care of itself."
So what if she sounded smug? Garrus gave her that familiar exasperated look for it, and then turned back to watch the show.
Her subversive hacking of the mech's friend-or-foe identification system was paying off in spades now. Shepard threw the turian a triumphant grin as it immediately turned on the Eclipse troopers. She could only imagine the recriminations and chaos in the base behind it, as the Blue Sun and Blood Pack leaders railed futilely at the destruction. The YMIR Mech took out most of the Eclipse troops until one of them got in a lucky shot that shut it down. Either way, the Eclipse soldiers were decimated, forcing their boss Jaroth to take to the field.
At that point, Shepard moved from the top level, a nod to Jacob bringing him with her. Above, Miranda with her biotics, and Garrus with his rifle, kept taking out the surviving Eclipse mercs. Jaroth was canny, he used the cover well. In that calm, controlled part of her brain that stayed focused no matter how hot the battle, Shepard was carefully analysing the interplay of her people.
She had been too hard on Miranda and Jacob, had let her personal hatred of Cerberus distort her opinion of them. They were good soldiers, good fighters. They knew how to play with others. She watched Miranda warp the space around Jaroth, knocking him to the ground, just far enough out of cover for Garrus to get a clear shot. Jaroth's brains exploded across the walkway a moment later. She heard Garrus' familiar war cry from above and grinned. Looked like they'd have a moment's peace while the mercs regrouped, and the Blood Pack prepared to move in. A quick nod to Jacob and they were both moving back upstairs to rejoin Miranda and Garrus.
"You're kicking ass, Shepard," he greeted her gleefully. "They barely touched me. And I got Jaroth! I've been hunting that little bastard for months."
"Why were you after him?" she asked, dropping her rifle to a conveniently close crate. She listened to Garrus explain about Jaroth's involvement in shipping tainted goods, as she carefully readjusted her armor. This new gear tended to shift a little during combat, she'd have to do some work on it when she got back to the Normandy. Absently, the Spectre held back a grin at Garrus' intense explanation. He was still the same old Garrus. Loyal, yes. Maybe not such a stickler for the rule book anymore, but he was still clinging to his own moral code of right and wrong. He just didn't have the limits of C-Sec or the Alliance to keep him in check anymore.
And neither did she. Shepard hesitated as she straightened up. That was the change she'd been grappling with. Without the Alliance, and without her former team, she didn't have anyone to provide moral guidelines on how to grapple the Reaper threat. Even as a Spectre, she'd known there would be consequences if she acted outside of broad Alliance expectations. Now she had Cerberus, an organisation known for its total lack of ethics. She had nothing to rely on... except herself.
Herself, and Garrus. If he stayed.
The wrenching of metal and the sharp crack of explosions interrupted her thoughts and Garrus' explanation. All four of them turned in the direction of the sound and she heard Garrus swear as he realized the mercs were breaking through the lower levels.
"You'd better get down there Shepard," Garrus said apologetically. "I'll keep the bridge clear."
True enough. Nobody else was as good a shot. But there was still an entire merc band across that bridge, and he'd been awake for at least twenty four hours. She wasn't leaving him to face that on his own. "Let's split up, two and two. Keep one of my team here," Shepard replied.
"You sure? Who knows what you'll find down there," Garrus reminded her, but she could see the weariness in him, the stress and tension of the experience was wearing him down. She nodded firmly, gesturing over her shoulder to Jacob.
"Jacob. Stay with Garrus. Keep him alive." It wasn't a request. The steel in her voice made it a command that suggested dire consequences if Jacob failed. Shepard caught the alacrity with which Jacob obeyed, moving to stand beside Garrus, and approved whole-heartedly.
Why Jacob and not Miranda? Miranda may have the superior biotics, but Shepard trusted Jacob more. He'd been Alliance, once. Miranda might risk herself to save Shepard, the work of two years of her life... but Shepard couldn't believe she'd do the same to save Garrus.
Garrus met her eyes briefly and nodded to her in gratitude. "Thanks Shepard. You better get going."
Nothing further needed to be said. Shepard led Miranda down to the basement where the mercs were breaking through. Led her down into a vicious fight against krogan and vorcha Blood Pack mercs, complete with varren hounds. It was a savage struggle to take them out. Two biotics with superior firepower were fairly evenly matched against half of a mercenary band. Shepard was still snarling from the savage burn she'd taken from one of the pyros when she managed to get the final shutter sealed against the intruders. The medi-gel was doing its job far too damned slowly, in her opinion. Shepard limped back to Miranda, eying the woman carefully. Miranda looked as rumpled as she felt, her white suit stained with soot and blood and gore, her dark hair tangled with blowback and grime.
"Not bad, Shepard," the Cerberus woman drawled at her, adding in a wink for good measure. "Let's get back to the others before they have all the fun, hmm?"
Shepard gave a short bark of unexpected laughter, and gestured for Miranda to lead the way back upstairs. No, Miranda wasn't fully claimed by Cerberus. More and more, she was getting hints that there was a doorway to this woman's loyalty. She didn't want to have to rely on Miranda's reluctance to see all her good work destroyed in Shepard's death. She wanted to earn and hold Miranda's allegiance. And Jacob's. She would need to trust the people she took into Hell with her.
They rounded the corner into the main forum of the lower level just as Shepard heard Garrus' voice over the radio calling for help. With a sudden jerk, she leapt into a run, taking the steps two or three at a time and almost skidding across wet blood as she reached the top of the staircase. The low grunts of pain over the radio were undeniably Garrus'... even in pain, she could identify the flanging quality of a turian voice... and she spared a moment's white-hot rage to wonder what the hell Jacob was doing while the Blood Pack used Garrus as their own private punching bag.
With Miranda right at her heels, Shepard slammed into the top office to find Garm – that particularly unpleasant krogan who headed up the Blood Pack on Omega – slamming his meaty fist directly into Garrus' face. And of course, the damn turian hadn't put his helmet back on, so there was a spray of blood.
Her rifle was in her hand again, even as she spotted Jacob painfully dragging himself to his feet. Ahh. Well, at least he'd been taken down, rather than failed through incompetence. Shepard didn't bother with her gun. Her blood was running hot, and she slammed her hand, palm-out, towards the krogan attacking her team-mate. The liquid heat of biotic energy burst out from her, slamming violently into the krogan.
Garm staggered off-balance, not quite falling, but before he had managed to right himself, Jacob made his move. She watched the dark-skinned man snarl, his fist clenching as he reached out with biotic force to pull the krogan towards him. Already off-balance, Garm had no resistance to the sudden pull of gravity towards Jacob, and he was flung mid-air. Miranda didn't hesitate, but lifted a delicate hand to expel a shattering burst of warp energy against the floating, bleeding krogan. His low, gurgling groans of pain filled the room as the three of them tossed him about like a rag doll with their biotics. When he finally crashed to the ground, it was with savage force that saw him sliding to land almost directly at Shepard's feet.
Now, she lowered her gun, aiming it down at the exposed meaty forehead of the krogan merc boss. Shepard could feel the savagery of her smile, the tightness of her anger, as she squeezed the trigger deliberately into the centre of his head. A sharp jerk of that huge body and he was still, a last gasp of breath escaping futilely.
"Shepard," Jacob called urgently, already looking towards Garrus. He was getting to his feet by the time she made it over there, yanking out medi-gel. Garrus waved her away, coughing a bit as he straightened. In the face of her tight anxiety, he managed a credible smile, and nod.
"Tough bastards, but I've seen worse," he assures her. "And we took out Garm and his Blood Pack. This day just gets better and better. He was one tough son of a bitch."
His voice sounded clear, low-pitched and smooth as always, without any rattle or gurgle to indicate internal injuries he might not be eager to discuss. Shepard nodded back at him in acceptance, but slapped the medi-gel on anyway. He'd hold together until they got back to the Normandy, but they weren't out of this by a long shot. "You've fought with him before?"
Garrus snorted. "Yeah, we tangled once. I caught him alone... none of his gang to help him. I still couldn't take him out. I've never seen a krogan regen that fast. He was a freak of nature. We just kept at it until his vorcha showed up. It was close but..." Garrus shrugged, looking over at the dead krogan's body. "I had to let him go. Not this time."
"Only the Blue Suns are left now," she reminded him. Two out of three ain't bad, but even one merc group could take them out if they were lucky enough. "I say we take our chances and fight our way out."
"I think you're right. Tarak's got the toughest group, but nothing we haven't faced before." Garrus was thinking it over; she knew that face. The face that said he was reviewing strategy, tactics. He was right... they'd faced Saren, Sovereign, geth, Cerberus itself... a rag-tag bunch of mercs at the ass-end of the galaxy shouldn't prove too difficult for them. They'd made it this far without serious injury. "Besides, he won't be expecting us to meet him head on. He –"
Movement in the corner of their vision stopped Garrus, and both he and Shepard swung in that direction. A low, rumbling throb of sound filled the silence, and in her peripheral vision, Shepard saw Miranda tense and Jacob grip his rifle tighter.
Then the dark, oily-black bulk of the gunship rose in ominous silence over the edge of the walkway, shrouding them in its shadow and stealing any words they might have had except "oh fuck" and "get behind cover!" An unnecessary reminder, as it turned out, because they were all diving for cover simultaneously as the gunship opened fire.
"Dammit," Garrus yelled in frustration, "I thought I took that thing out already!"
Yeah, so did I, Shepard thought in irritation. It looked like Cathka had managed to get the thing working before she shoved a welder in his spine.
No time to bitch about it now, Shepard decided... especially not when Garrus took a heroic leap towards cover just as the gunship opened fire. Her stomach dropped sickeningly as she saw him jerk back under the gunfire, a sudden swooping sensation like being in low-grav. All that pretty turian armor wasn't going to save him if he didn't get out of the line of fire.
"Garrus!" His name was a scream, raking down her throat as she threw herself behind cover. Shepard frantically scanned the area, trying to get closer to him. Miranda and Jacob were firing – at the gunship, or the Blue Sun troops creeping into the base already – but Shepard only had eyes for her downed team-mate. She didn't leave people behind – ever.
Get to cover, get to cover... she urged him silently, as the gunship hovered back into position to fire again. And slowly, amazingly, he did... Rolling awkwardly onto his side and crawling the bare meter to drag himself behind a crate, he pulled himself into a half-sitting position. His head turned, the somehow undamaged-scope flinging back reflected light at her, making him look half-blind. Blood was oozing from his face, his armor was a smoking ruin, but incredibly he winked at her. The unhindered eye dropped deliberately into a wink and then closed in exhaustion. She watched a moment longer to see his breathing steady, but fast... He was alive, but he didn't have much time. Shepard's head snapped up to review the situation. She didn't like what she saw.
Pinned down by a freaking gunship, one man down, with mercs creeping up on their asses. Well, she could never say life was boring with Garrus around. Shepard narrowly avoided getting her head shot off as she stretched up and fired off a shot, taking out a Blue Sun merc. The important question was that damn gunship, and how to take it down. Cathka had been clear it wasn't really ready yet, he still had work to do. That should make it pretty easy to take out... If she could get a clear shot at it.
She left the mercs to Miranda and Jacob. If nothing else, seeing them in action here – willing to fight and risk their lives to protect Garrus as well as herself – had eased the virulent mistrust she'd felt towards the Cerberus operatives. She knew they'd take care of the Blue Suns, which left the gunship to her. Grimly, Shepard holstered her pistol – useless against something that size – and dragged out the grenade launcher. It was the heaviest weapon she had on her, and if that didn't take the monstrosity down, they were all ... well... fucked.
The next few minutes were chaos, with her heart pounding in her ears and blood thrumming wildly through her veins. The grenade launcher was steady in her grip though, and she waited deliberately for Jacob or Miranda's quiet "go for it, Shepard," or "now, Commander" to know when she had coverage from their side to take her shots. The gunship hung conveniently in front of her – close enough for her to see straight through the plasglass viewport to the mercs piloting it. Her first grenade launched like a missile, impacting on the nose of the gunship. It dropped from the impact, but her momentary burst of triumph faltered as the pilot righted the damn thing. Surface damage only. Gritting her teeth, Shepard settled more firmly in place, locking the launcher comfortably against her shoulder and took her time. She only had a few grenades left, no sense wasting them on poorly timed shots.
So she waited. Hearing Garrus' laboured breathing through breaks in gunfire, catching the blue-fire pulse of Miranda's biotics as she took out a small cluster of Blue Sun mercs. She waited. She waited until she could see the whites of the pilot's eyes, if vorcha could be said to have them. Her lips curled into a primal snarl as she clenched the trigger of the launcher. She knew – from the solid thud of the recoil, from the sweet whistle of the grenade as it launched – that it would be on target. Exultantly, Shepard watched it splinter the plasglass view plate and embed halfway into the pilot's torso. The gunship jerked back out of control, and a heartbeat later, the grenade exploded. Gunship debris fell like hot metallic rain across the bridge, and Shepard let out a soft snarl of satisfaction.
"Garrus!" Even as Miranda was still mopping up the last of the mercs, Shepard had leaped out of cover towards the prone turian, kneeling anxiously at his side. She rolled him carefully onto his back. In doing so, the splintered, charred edge of his armor was revealed, as well as the terrible mess his face was in. She dreaded to think what state the rest of him was in. There was stillness, a terrible stillness that froze her heart. The scope over his eye still flashed with readouts, but his eyes were closed, his chest still, his skin... Shepard felt panic start to tug at her, when Garrus managed a single, gurgling inhalation that spoke of terrible internal damage.
"Garrus!" she gasped, leaning quickly over him so he could see her without moving. "We're gettin' out of here, Garrus. Just hold on," she assured him as he forced his eyes open to look at her.
"Radio Joker, make sure they're ready for us," she snapped at Jacob, her eyes fixed on the wounded turian. Garrus wouldn't have much time; she knew that, even as she was pumping him full of medi-gel.
Miranda and Jacob stood as silent shadows, guarding them both as Shepard watched carefully for the medi-gel to take effect. She could track its progress in the relief on Garrus' ruined face, the steadier breathing, as well as the readouts on her omni-tool. She shot a quick look to Jacob, whose doubts about Garrus' likely survival were written all over his face. Her eyes sharpened to any icy point, and whatever Jacob saw in her face had him hopping to like a first year cadet, reaching down under the turian's shoulder as she did, to help lever him up and onto his feet.
The medi-gel kept him breathing, but nothing more. Each gurgling, liquid gasp from her friend was right in her ear, as Shepard and Jacob frog-marched him down that damn bridge and laid him out in the nearest sky car. Miranda had her pistol out, her free hand glowing with the cerulean flash of biotic energy but there was nobody left to challenge them. Shepard barely noticed. All she could hear was Garrus' laboured breathing, the half-heard grunts and moans of pain as Jacob flew them directly back to the Normandy. Shepard was in the back seat, crouched over the prone turian figure, pumping more medi-gel into him anytime he twitched. It wasn't enough, but it was all she had to keep him breathing until they made it back to the dock.
Doctor Chakwas was waiting in the airlock with a stretcher, and her calm efficiency was a balm to Shepard's fractured nerves. If the Doc was surprised to see an old crew-member half-dead on the deck, she didn't say anything. It wasn't her way. She just got him up onto the stretcher, pumping more drugs into him and doing... well, whatever it was she did. But when Shepard tried to follow her into the elevator down to med-bay, Chakwas levelled a stare at her that was almost command-level intimidation.
"Jacob has medical training, he can assist me. I'll call you as soon as he's out of surgery," she informed the Commander and shut the elevator door in her face.
Shepard stared dumbly at the elevator door, watching the little light over the control panel flick sedately down the levels until it confirmed the elevator had opened at the crew level. A few more seconds, and she knew Garrus would be in the med-bay, with the best doctor this side of the galactic core to take care of him. Shepard shook her head and looked up. Jacob was gone. When she spared a glance around her, Miranda was still there, watching. Studying. Whatever she'd been thinking, it wasn't visible from the composed gaze the Cerberus operative levelled at her.
"Doctor Chakwas has things well in hand," Miranda remarked calmly. "This seems like a good time for us all to get cleaned up and debrief." Whatever she saw on the Commander's face prompted Miranda to smile slightly, lifting her hands in a peace gesture. "I didn't know he was your former crew-mate, Commander. Nor did the Illusive Man. All information we had on Garrus Vakarian said that he had dropped off the radar after leaving the Citadel. Nobody knew who Archangel really was."
Shepard grunted dubiously.
"As you should know, Commander, Garrus is a very competent individual. If he chose to disappear, is it really so surprising that he should accomplish his goals?" Miranda levelled a composed gaze at her, daring her to contradict that statement. In all honesty, Shepard couldn't argue that. Of all her former crew, Garrus was most likely to know how to circumvent security systems, after his work in C-Sec. Shepard dropped the issue, shaking her head at the other woman.
"Forget it. You're right. Clean up, then we'll debrief in four hours. Tell Jacob."
By the time they convened in the briefing room, Doctor Chakwas had contacted her with good news. Not only was Garrus going to make it, but he'd come through surgery well and should recover quickly.
"There's been some damage," Chakwas warned her, holding up a cautioning hand. "There's not much I can do about that. But turian armour is well designed to segment damaged sections of the body and provide emergency medical treatment in the field. If not for that, he'd have been dead before you got him to the Normandy. The armour itself may have suffered a few cosmetic damages, but it's still basically intact in that regard. If you're going to throw him in the way of gunships in the future, perhaps it's best he continue using it?" the Doctor suggested with acerbic sweetness, and signed off with a promise to have Jacob provide details shortly.
Shepard didn't much care about the attitude. Garrus was going to pull through. She grinned at the news, and finally let herself look at the other issues raised in the mission.
The debrief was thorough, conveying the details of the mission to the Illusive Man, along with the potential benefits of information and a few curious pieces of tech they'd swiped on station. The Illusive Man confirmed Miranda's assessment, reassuring Shepard that he hadn't had any idea of the link between Archangel and Garrus Vakarian. Unfortunately, his too-smooth delivery only sharpened her suspicions rather than soothing them. Which was probably for the best, all things considered.
As the briefing concluded, Shepard gestured surreptitiously to Jacob to remain. "Give me the full rundown on Garrus' condition," she demanded, crossing her arms. He sighed quietly.
"Commander, we've done what we could for Garrus," he answered her gently. "But he took a bad hit. The Doc's corrected with surgical procedures, and some cybernetics. Best we can tell..." He shrugged. "He'll have full functionality, but..."
The low hiss of the door opening drew both their gazes to it immediately, and Shepard straightened in surprise to see the turian in question saunter through. Well, perhaps not his usual saunter. There was a definite limp to it, and his movements were slow, almost jerky with precision.
"Shepard," Garrus greeted her.
His face was a mess, but she'd expected that. He was, indeed, still in his armor, which was dented and charred, with a massive chunk out over his right collarbone neckpiece that made her want to flinch. For all of that though... Shepard couldn't help the proud smirk that grew on her lips as she studied him. Beside her, Jacob gave an amazed laugh.
"Tough son of a bitch," he muttered in admiration. "Didn't think you'd be up yet."
Garrus gave him an amused look and limped fully into the briefing room. His eyes slid over Jacob and dropped firmly onto his Commander. He watched her intently for a moment. "Nobody would give me a mirror," he complained. "How bad is it?"
Shepard felt the smirk grow until she was grinning – with pride, and amusement, and sheer relief at his survival. She let herself look at him, seeing the healing wounds and grafts that would leave terrible scars, knowing that worse lay beneath the armor. What to say? For all his toughness, Garrus had always held a streak of vulnerability that at times perplexed and amazed her. She'd never been in a position to provide any kind of reassurance to him before, and now that she was, she found herself reluctant to address the issue directly.
"Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly," she threw back affectionately, letting a ripple of laughter enter her voice. "Slap some face paint on there and nobody will notice."
She surprised a short bark of laughter out of him; laughter that turned all too quickly into a low groan of pain, as he raised his hand instinctively to his damaged right mandible. "Ugh, don't make me laugh. Dammit... My face is barely holding together as it is."
But that face, turned towards her, was still familiar even with the new scarring, and she could hardly restrain herself from basking in that very familiarity. The sense of coming-home that had startled her on Omega now blossomed fully inside Shepard, and she grinned back at him. It sparked an impish gleam into his eyes, which frankly shocked the hell out of her.
Whatever Garrus had been in the past, he'd never had much of a sense of humour.
"Some women find facial scars attractive," he remarked suggestively, his smooth voice dropping even lower as he looked over at her. Shepard blinked in surprise, staring back at him blankly, and the turian glanced away. "Mind you, most of those women are krogan."
With a shake of her head, Shepard let it pass. Poor guy was probably still groggy from the drugs Chakwas fed him. Or Omega had turned the incorruptible Officer Vakarian into a flirt.
With an awkward throat-clearing cough, Jacob saluted and retreated. Shepard and Garrus both watched him leave, Shepard waiting until she felt her friend's eyes resting on her again before she met them. She'd had her debriefing with the Cerberus crew, with the Illusive Man himself. Now it was time for Garrus. She gave a slight nod of understanding, and saw him relax a little at the tacit permission to speak his mind. When he spoke, the teasing humour was all gone, and it was the Garrus she knew again.
"Frankly, I'm more worried about you," he began cautiously, as if unsure of her reaction. "Cerberus, Shepard? You remember those sick experiments they were doing?"
She didn't turn away, didn't evade the responsibility of this moment. Shepard met his gaze head-on, straightening her shoulders. This moment had been inevitable. Tali hadn't even let herself come this far, before she raised the Cerberus issue. She could feel a pit of worry at the base of her stomach, wondering if this was the beginning of the "thanks, but no thanks" speech that Tali had already given her. She'd saved his ass on Omega. Would it be enough? Would he trust her, as Tali couldn't?
"That's why I'm glad you're here, Garrus," she answered honestly, and without hesitation. Holding back wouldn't help her here. She let him see how much this meant to her, let him see her worry and her isolation amidst this crew. "I'm walking into Hell here. I want someone I trust by my side."
There wasn't even a moment's pause. "You realize this plan has me walking into Hell too, right? Just like old times."
There weren't words to describe the rush of relief and... more, something potent but impossible to decipher... at that instantaneous support, his unquestioning trust. Garrus watched her warmly, and all the things they didn't need to say hung heavy in the air between them. She hadn't said anything about the Collectors, the Reapers, or why she was with Cerberus. She hadn't needed to.
Garrus trusted her. Trusted her ethics, and her decisions. And that trust was enough for him to sign up on her crew again.
Tali had turned her back on Shepard, even knowing how important the mission was... but now, Shepard could see that was just Tali's choice. It didn't make her own decisions or actions inherently wrong, or evil. Working with Cerberus was – just as she'd known from the start – a risky and unwelcome necessity, but the bigger goal was more important. Garrus didn't even know what it was. He didn't ask.
That silent and steadfast loyalty was like the warmth of a real wood fire on a cold night, in those old days back on Mindoir. It warmed her soul, and soothed the long hours of self-doubt, sharp questioning, and anxiety about her choices. It took it all away in one sudden, unexpected instant. And at the same time, it gave Shepard back that certainty about her path.
She could never tell him, never explain, just what he'd done for her. She'd saved his ass. He'd repaid the favor by saving her from the kind of self-doubt that would get her killed through uncertainty, and giving her someone she could trust to have her back.
But maybe she didn't need to tell him. Garrus was still watching her, and his uninjured mandible twitched into a quiet smile.
"I'll settle in, see what I can do with the forward batteries," he promised her quietly, and she really shouldn't be surprised that he went straight for the big guns. That was just Garrus all over.
She was still smiling when he left her alone in the briefing room, feeling the weight of the galaxy slowly falling off her shoulders.
Damn, but it was glad to have a friend again.