Vael sent out another distress call. He'd lost count on the fifth or sixth, but that did not stop him from sending out another one. Someone had to pick them up and send help.
He switched to the surveillance cameras of the stations to probe the situation. The corridors and labs were empty now. They seemed to have moved into the archives now, searching for whatever it was they were looking for. Most of the cameras only displayed a grey and white garble, so only the ones left intact supplied him with a glimpse of the outside world. When they attacked, he'd barricaded himself into the communication hub of the station, sealing the door behind him.
That was a few hours ago. From what he could tell, the staff was rounded up in the cafeteria, kept there by five of them. They didn't seem to be hurt, so while their attackers were occupied, Vael had sent out distress call after distress call.
Something cracked behind him, followed by footsteps. He didn't want to believe it, but somehow, they must've found him. He cursed under his breath, slapping himself for hacking into the live video feed. He knew there was a chance to get spotted, but he took it to check on the scientists. Slowly, he reached for his Predator pistol, trying to make as little movement as possible.
"Don't even think about going for that gun!" a firm, female voice boomed behind him. "Stand up and hands in the air!"
Vael cursed again, this time audible. He retracted his hand and raised both over his head, standing up from his chair.
"That's it, now turn around." The voice commanded.
He turned around. He counted four guns, all trained on his head. What surprised him more, though, was that only one of those guns belonged to a human. Besides her there was a drell, and asari and a turian, all clad in dark armor.
"Step away from the console!" the human woman commanded again, and when Vael complied, most of the intruders lowered their weapons. Only the slender form of the female human still pointed her gun to his head.
"Wait, you guys aren't with them, are you?" Vael asked, confusing the intruders.
"We're asking the questions! Now who are you and what are you doing here?"
"Look, miss, if you could just put down the gun, we could all talk about this like civilized people…"
The turian whispered something in the human's ear, causing her to reluctantly lower her gun. Relieved, Vael lowered his hands.
"Thank you." He cleared his throat and took a more dignified stance.
"My name is Vael Oran vas Torrq. I'm a travelling merchant, selling wares to research posts like this one."
"What's a quarian doing this far from the flotilla? You're a little bit old for a pilgrimage, aren't you?" the turian quipped in.
"It's … a long story. Look, you must've seen my ship when you docked. It's a small one, but she gets the job done nevertheless!"
There was an awkward pause.
"What you don't believe me? Check docking bay 5, she's anchored there!"
The asari spoke up, scratching the back of her head while she did.
"Yeah, sorry to tell you this but … there's only a debris field out there now. No ships are anchored."
"Oh come on. You're messing with me …" Vael stammered.
Another awkward pause.
"Oh come ON! WHAT! THE! FUCK!"
They trained their weapons on him again, startled by is cursing, but Vael didn't care. When what they were saying was true, his ship was blasted to smithereens.
"Do you know how much merchandise was on that shitty old clunker? Enough for a small MOUNTAIN of credits! When I get my hands on the Cerberus BASTARD that did this …"
"Wait, did you just say Cerberus?" The human asked, lowering her weapon.
"Who else? They came barging in here a few hours ago, rounded up the staff and then disappeared into the archive to search for the cure to being a prick or whatever the fuck it was they are looking for. They're probably still in there."
The intruders lowered their weapons again, whilst sticking their heads together. When they were finished, the human spoke up again.
"Mr. Oran, we're with the Alliance and here to rescue you. After you told us where the archives are, you can retreat back to docking bay 2 and our shuttle will pick you up."
"Or I can lead you there myself." Vael offered. Before they could decline, he continued.
"You get to do your job and I get some payback for all that lost merch."
"Absolutely not. We're not having a civilian running around…"
"Civilian?! Miss, I'm deeply insulted. After 10 years of the Migrant Fleet Marines, I think I qualify to a little bit more than just 'civilian'!"
She considered for a moment. Then she holstered her weapon, took off her helmet, revealing short-cropped, white hair, and a scar below her eye.
"Alright Mr. Oran. We've got a deal."