Author's note: Oops. Reposting due to formatting mistakes.
Shepard prowled restlessly around her small cell. She had the growing feeling that they'd left acting until it was too late. From Recidivist's reports the techs on board were obviously getting ready to start removing parts of him, and he'd heard enough chatter to confirm that a big ship, possibly a Galaxy class ship, was inbound.
Dorot had advised they wait until they had no choice, and she couldn't disagree with his reasoning. But every instinct she had was screaming at her to act!
- Recidivist → Shepard - Commander, they're getting ready to start dismantling my cannon! My cannon!
Shepard took in a deep breath, held it for a second, then let it out in a rush. She suddenly felt calmer and more focussed than she had in days.
+ Shepard → All + Right, we're out of time. Reci, shut down the station and take out its weapons systems. That includes any docked ships. Everyone else, take out our guards and start tearing down the shield emitters. And be careful! Your barriers won't do a thing against their phasers, so if you see anyone armed, hit first and hit hard!
- Recidivist – One of the docked ships is the Ptolemy.
+ Shepard + I don't care if it's the Eminent Destiny, take it out! And vent atmosphere.
Shepard turned toward the nearest guard. He wasn't looking directly at her, but she saw his eyes go wide as her crew started readying biotic attacks. She lifted her hand, and used a biotic pull on him.
The guard hit the shield hard, and with a bang and a flash was violently hurled back. She had to admire his resilience; even as he lay stunned on the floor, his hand groped for his comm badge. Another, harder pull, and the shield threw him with bone shattering force against the far wall. He slid down it leaving a smeared trail of blood.
A couple of the others copied her, but most used biotic warp, the DS6 security crew screaming as the warp fields twisted and tore their innards. Shepard tuned out the sound, and used the strongest warp she could on the shield emitter above her cell.
Trathal sat slumped in a chair she'd dragged into the computer access bay, when she'd realised she was going to be at this indefinitely. She could have reported back to Johansson on the futility of trying to pull data from Recidivist's computers, but she didn't see the point. She lethargically marked the latest information recovered (a recipe for 'Salarian Eyes' written by someone called Javik) as 'corrupted / no significance', and started another scan. She felt as if this job was not even worthy of a trainee enlisted crewman. It could have been done by a couple of nodding-bird toys, set to alternately tap the scan and reject keys.
As the new data began forming on the screen, she read it with only half her attention.
"AIDAN
The Artificial Intelligence Defence, Attack and Navigation system, essentially providing a ship with its own self awareness and self determination, was originally developed by the long defunct human organisation Cerberus. Following the outstanding performance of the prototype system on the Normandy SR-2 during the Reaper War, the system has been widely adopted throughout the galaxy, and is now standard on all Asari Republic combat ships, and how are you Ms Trathal?"
She blinked, puzzled. Then her eyes widened and her heart started to pound as the implications sunk in.
Gravity failed, and she began to drift up from her seat. There was a sudden, banging thump from behind her, and she twisted round to look at the door. She knew that sound. It had been drilled into her in basic training. It was the sound of an adjoining compartment being opened to vacuum.
A voice came over a hidden speaker. It was a man's... or, at least, a male voice. Amused. Cruel.
"You tried to stand up for me, and the chief's sweet on you, so I'm giving you a chance. A bit of a chance. Explosive decompression in Five..."
Trathal's training took over, cutting through her confusion and horror, and her hand slapped hard against her comm badge. "Emergency beam out! Emergency beam out!"
"Four..."
Her comm badge generated an emergency stabilising force field, freezing her in place to allow a faster transporter lock, and protecting her. She knew its tiny power cell would be depleted in a matter of seconds.
"Three..."
Unable to move, to breathe, Trathal waited desperately for DS6 to start beaming her out.
"Two..."
It's taking too long. All that element zero, they can't lock on. I'm going to suffocate here!
"One..."
Stars started to fill her vision, and a stinging sensation rippled through her antennae.
"Zero. Bye bye!"
The door slammed open, and sound vanished as the air burst from the tiny room. It was becoming hard to see, but she could make out a figure drifting down the Recidivist's twisting main passage, pushed by the rush of air from her cubbyhole. A figure that scrabbled weakly, vainly at a wall, trying to hold on. The comm badge's emergency field failed...
And she collapsed onto the DS6 transporter pad, breath whooping into her lungs.
Forest strode out of Carew's office, turning over possibilities in his mind. An order to DS6 security to release Shepard and her crew was a waste of time; he might be a Captain but he had no authority here. Still, he should find where they were detained and reassure them he was working on getting them out. If Carew and Lieutenant Xah had had some sort of falling out, perhaps she could help? She'd know the DS6 security arrangements better than anybody.
He took the turbolift down to the curving outermost corridor, and as he headed for the transporter room he tapped his comm badge. "Forest to Ptolemy."
Sotar's voice answered. "Ptolemy here."
"Mr Sotar. I've had an update on the Recidivist's crew. I'm afraid steps will have to be taken. However, I'll need to discuss this with you privately."
"Understood. Mr Grant, I'll be in the Captain's ready..." The station seemed to tremble, and his voice stopped. For a moment Forest thought they'd been cut off. Then Sotar's voice came through again. Loudly. Urgently. "Raise sh..."
DS6 heaved and shuddered, and Forest staggered and almost lost his footing. "Sotar! Report!"
There was silence from his comm, but around him people were starting to shout; and run.
Why aren't there any alarms going off! What's happening?! He saw somebody at the turbolift ahead of him thumping urgently at the controls. A security crewman repeatedly tapping his comm badge, trying to raise Security central.
The station heaved again, even more violently. Forest was braced for it, but several others in the corridor went sprawling. The shouting became louder, more frantic. More panicked. Forest could here faint thumping from several doors along the corridor.
He started sprinting along the corridor, close to the windows that circled DS6, trying to see round the curve of the station to where the Ptolemy... He came to a sudden, stumbling halt. He could see the Ptolemy as she drifted away from the station.
She was a dead ship, he could see that at a glance. Her starboard nacelle was a wreck, the front half gone and the stump a roaring inferno. The main phaser banks had been excised, as if they'd been burnt away by a precisely wielded exoscalpel, and the navigational deflector was no more than a blackened pit, electrical discharge arcing through spewing plasma.
Suddenly a searing beam seemed to lance out from the station, striking the ventral torpedo tube and sending a series of explosions rippling along the secondary hull.
Martin! You murderous... No. That wasn't phaser fire...
He staggered back from the window as a vast bulk slid into view from just above. It blotted out the nightmare outside, completely obscuring the window. It seemed as if he could just reach out and touch it! He stared at the dark bulk, as it slid past the window, its surface curving into a bulbous protrusion, and realisation dawned on him. It was the ARS Recidivist, manoeuvring inside DS6's shields, hugging the station's hull.
It was the Recidivist that had killed his ship.
"Will. You. Just. Die!" Shepard hurled another biotic lance at the last shield emitter, and the obstinate device exploded in a shower of red-hot fragments, bringing down the last makeshift cell. "Fucking finally!"
She was panting with exertion, and her scalp throbbed with heat.
+ Shepard → All + That took too long! Let's hustle, we've got time to make up! You've all got the route, form up, four by six column, two on point, two rearguard.
"Thomasss, Ffoster, point!"
Shepard looked round, startled by Shosak's barked command. "Sergeant..."
Shosak glared at her and hissed, as if to reprimand her for interrupting him. Or having the gall to even speak to him. "Voltuss, Arrex, rear! Ssshepard, ssecond rank, Granar and Eneemhin fflank. Wave dassh formation. Move out!"
"Sergeant, what makes you think Quartermaster Foster should be on point?" He's still out of his mind. I should... what? Relieve him of his rank, I guess.
Shosak stared at her, rolling his blood red eyes like a lunatic, then snarled "Both human. Federation will be sslower to identify. Slower to sshoot!"
Shepard realised that he was rolling his eyes as if she was a lunatic. Or an idiot. She gave a sigh of relief.
+ Shepard → Shosak + Good to have you back, Sergeant.
~ Shosak ~ You appear to be confused, Commander, I've been here the whole time. Are you feeling... unwell?
+ Shepard + … Never mind. Carry on.
Trathal scrambled off the pad, trying to catch her breath, looking up at the transporter operator. "The others... get them back! May... still be alive!"
The operator looked back at her with an anguished expression. "I can't! The controls aren't responding." He tapped his comm badge. "Transporter room to engineering, emergency priority!" There was a long pause. "Hello? Transporter room to engineering, please respond!"
Trathal started to scramble to her feet. Then the station shuddered and heaved, almost throwing her to the floor again. The security detail caught hold of her and steadied her, and she vaguely realised it was Rel.
"The door isn't responding either! Tra, what's..." Rel suddenly froze, staring intently at her, her face going white. "Oh no. Oh no! Tra, what do we do?!"
One thing at a time. Is it firing on the station? That would kill them too. Has it gone insane? What's happening?! Trathal shook off Rel's hand and staggered over to the door. She wasn't qualified to deal with a transporter, but a door she could manage. She yanked the maintenance panel open and started to hardwire the power lines directly to the actuators. Her mind was full of images of the four Recidivist crew tearing their way through the Higgs. And of mutilated Jem'Hadar corpses.
She heard Rel make a brief retching, sobbing sound. Then, as the door juddered painfully open, and the station shuddered again, Rel caught hold of her and pushed something into her hand. A type 1 phaser; easy to conceal. Rel, trembling, faintly whispered "Sorry." Then moved to take a phaser rifle from the secure locker.
Trathal realised Rel wasn't going to help, but was going to stay at her post. She dismissed the Betazoid from her mind and, as the bombardment continued, pushed through the door and started running. She might not know what was happening, but she knew she had to do something. And she knew... she hoped she knew one way she might live through it.
Forest had never seen a ship, or a station, in a state of panic. And now he was surrounded by it.
Technicians and admin staff ran vainly hither and thither, like scurrying ants, shouting questions at each other and at the security personnel. Security personnel shouted questions at each other and at their dead communicators, and barked futile commands at everybody else; commands they were completely unable to comply with. Unseen people banged frantically on doors off the main corridor, doors which refused to open, desperate to get out of sealed cabins and offices, while others banged frantically to get in.
Then some technician or other, with more initiative than sense, began shorting out door controls to force doors open, which only added to the chaos as more staff began flooding into the corridor demanding to know what was happening.
And amid all the shouting, the alarms remained silent, their absence giving a bizarre, almost dreamlike quality to the nightmarish situation.
Forest realised numbly that he was in a state of panic, or shock, himself. He should have been taking command, sorting things out. But all he could do was stand there, stunned. Every so often he'd turn back to the window and look at the Ptolomy, as if he would somehow see it intact. But all that he saw was a burning wreck surrounded by an expanding cloud of escape capsules, like seeds from a shattered seed pod.
And that wasn't all. The USS Chadwick had slowly drifted into view. Or rather, part of the Chadwick. Roughly half the primary hull. It looked like it had been sliced straight through. He had a vivid memory of the Recidivist's beam weapons slicing an unshielded Jem'Hadar fighter in half.
His communicator suddenly chirruped for attention. Numbly he tapped it. "Forest here."
"F..Forest? Is that maintenance? I called station maintenance? We're trapped in turbolift four, it just keeps going backward and forward and won't stop! Can you send someone to get us out?"
Forest looked around, realising there had been a change in the tenor of the panic. He heard communicators chirruping all around him, and people desperately trying to explain over comms who they were (or, as often, who they weren't).
Something in him seemed to snap. He took a deep breath and bellowed over the hubbub, "I need a turbolift qualified technician here!" Then he looked around, grabbed hold of a security crewman who tried to rush past him. "You! Are you acting on any specific orders!"
The crewman gave him a bewildered look, and shook his head.
"Good." Forest (still holding him firmly) turned away and shouted. "Security personnel! I am Captain Forest of the USS Ptolemy. Listen up!"
The frantic babbling dropped slightly in volume, and a number of crewmen started pushing toward him.
"We are under attack. Systems and comms are compromised. Which of you is most senior?"
A young woman with a chief petty officer's pip nervously held up her hand.
"Your name?"
"Meier, Sir."
"Meier, I want you to organise the security staff in this section. Task some as runners to carry messages, coordinate the others to collect messages from whoever receives them." He turned away as a technician came up.
"You, you're turbolift qualified?" The technician nodded. "Good. The turbolifts are running wild. Lock down as many as you can access and get any trapped crew out."
He turned back to Meier, who was starting hesitantly to organise the other security crew. "Meier, get one of your people to round up any other techs you can find and start opening up movement between sections. Don't open cabins unless there is a clear personnel, security or medical need. As soon as possible, find anyone in security of higher rank, report your actions in this section and defer to their commands."
He looked round. "All clear? Good. I have to get to station command centre to liaise with Captain Carew. Get me a technician who can get me there."
| Thomas → All | Hold.
Shepard ground her teeth in frustration, holding position behind Shosak and the other marines in first row, while the rest of the column dashed up behind her.
Thomas and Foster had dashed ahead to the corridor junction, and must have heard something. Forest darted his head round the corner and pulled it back instantly.
| Thomas | Three security and two technicians. They're at the turbolift.
- Recidivist – They're locking d-d-down turbolifts all across the station. C-c-c-can't stop them.
+ Shepard + Recidivist, status!
- Recidivist – N-not good. The clever little shit-t-ts are rebooting systems as faaahhst... as fast as I can heck th... hack them.
+ Shepard + You're stuttering! Have they compromised you?!
- Recidivist - ...No. Divert. Ing attention frommmm... om talking.
+ Shepard + Focus, we need our own comms clear!
- Recidivist – Beni, I'm losing the station! I managed to scramble their contacts list, but they'll have comms back soon! If they manage to get control of...
+ Shepard + … Reci?
- Recidivist - …
+ Shepard + Fuck. Everybody, dump any Federation weapons, for all we know they can track or sabotage them remotely when their comms are up. Shosak, take out those Federation people. Until Reci can give us a new route we need that turbolift shaft! Recidivist, respond!
Shepard watched Shosak and three huntresses rush forward in a blur, bracing herself to join the fight if it went bad, while several of the crew threw the phasers they'd taken back down the corridor. As they reached the intersection two huntresses generated singularities, and Shosak and the other charged. The startled cries of the Federation crew ended in a series of wet thuds.
+ Shepard + Recidivist!
- Recidivist – Sorry, boss. One of them managed to get manual control of a phaser bank. I had to do some fast dancing. They've got shit targetting, but they managed to strip some of my armour. It'll have to be docking bay four or nothing. I've destroyed the starboard defences, but I can't risk the port side now. Not unless I start shooting through the station!
| Thomas | All clear.
+ Shepard + Move out. Recidivist, don't you dare put holes in the station, you might blow us all up! Is that shaft clear?
With the rest of the column Shepard rushed to the intersection. The column moved in a wave, each row waiting for the one in front to stop before rushing to catch up. Some squads prided themselves on being able to do a synchronised biotic rush, but in Shepard's experience that all fell apart in any combat situation. And the last thing she wanted was any of her people injuring themselves by crashing into each other.
- Recidivist – Don't know where the cabin is, it's been disconnected from its controls, must have a tech in it. It's not moving, that's all I know.
Shepard muttered a curse as she got to the turbolift. Shosak had forced the doors and, as she watched, he tossed one of the dripping bodies into the shaft, then stood listening. There was a frustratingly long pause, then a distant thud as it hit something about fifty metres down. Shosak growled softly. Glanced at her and shook his head.
Damn, that was all the way down. The cabin's above us.
+ Shepard → All + The turbolift cabin's above us, so we might have to go through it to get to our weapons on deck twelve. Or it might suddenly come down on us. So Gucks, Dorot and I will go first to clear or secure it. Nobody enter the shaft until we give the all clear.
She stepped into the shaft and started using her biotics to ascend it. She didn't bother looking first; if the cabin was moving, the speed they went it'd slice her head off before she even saw it. Gucks and Dorot followed her. Non-biotics called what they were doing 'levitating', but it was more like climbing by reaching out to press her hands on either side of the lift shaft. She felt horribly vulnerable, unable to defend herself, unable to attack, all her strength and attention going to lifting herself. She gave the flimsy looking ladder a longing glance, but even if it would be safer it would be too slow.
It was times like these she appreciated the importance of MEP scanners. In the dark shaft she missed an MEP scanner even more. The structures in the shaft, ladders and ledges, were only visible close to, and the rows of dim emergency lights that faded away into the distance served only to emphasise the vertiginous drop.
As she and the other two ascended, she counted doors. Deck six... seven... eight... nine... Fuck. The turbolift cabin was right above them.
+ Shepard → Dorot & Gucks + Right. I'll hold the cabin, you two get the floor off.
She moved herself over to the side of the shaft, huddled against the wall with her feet planted on a solid looking (but far too narrow) ledge, then used her biotics to hold the cabin. It seemed to be locked solidly in place, but she wasn't sure how long that would last. Dorot and Gucks anchored themselves as best their bulk allowed, and with one concerted biotic heave they ripped the floor of the cabin out.
The ragged edged disc, severed cables sparking and sputtering round its edge, plummeted down the shaft, followed by two shrieking Federation crew.
Gucks grunted, and the two hapless humans rose back into view, one of them whimpering piteously.
+ Shepard + Marine! What the fuck do you think you're doing? We haven't got time to play around!
The Krogan just gave her a blank stare, then shrugged.
\ Gucks \ Hostages? They're unarmed.
Shepard ground her teeth in frustration. The insubordinate wretch had neatly presented her with a fait accompli. She couldn't just up and kill captives. Not if she ever wanted to look at herself in a mirror and not see a murderer.
She glanced at Dorot, who just rolled his eyes in exasperation. Then he lifted himself up into the cabin and tore the roof out. There was an abrupt crackle, an explosive bang, and suddenly her biotics were supporting the weight of the cabin.
+ Shepard + Dorot, what did you do?!
# Dorot # Not sure. Something exploded just above. Might be the Federation trying to take us out, might be from the damage Recidivist's doing.
+ Shepard + Gucks, get up there.
She waited until Gucks had clambered up through the cabin, biotically lifting the Federation people. One of them started trying to talk to her, pleading or threatening. Shepard didn't bother listening, just made a 'zip your mouth' motion with one hand then flicked a finger across her throat. The man took her threat to heart and shut up.
# Dorot # Secure.
+ Shepard → Shosak + Cabin coming down, shaft clear?
~ Shosak ~ Naturally, Commander.
Shepard took a breath, offered a silent prayer to Kurinth, and stepped out into the shaft. Before she could fall, she let go of the turbolift cabin and held herself using her biotics. With a grating squeal, the cabin fell, hurtling down toward her. For an instant the falling cabin was all around her, the ragged, knife sharp edges of the holes in floor and ceiling passing millimetres from her unarmoured skin. Then it had passed her and continued its downward plunge, rattling and grinding in the shaft, leaving a trail of torn metal and arcing power as it went.
Finally, with an ear splitting crash, it reached the bottom and silence fell, broken only by a cricket-like popping and crackling of damaged power systems.
+ Shepard → All + Well they should know where we are now, even if they can't track us. Everybody on the station must have heard that. So get yourselves up here on the double!
Gasping for breath, Trathal staggered into her quarters. Every door and hatch. Every damned one! If she survived this, she'd be dreaming about forcing doors open for weeks. She'd met a handful of other techs and security crew, but with comms down (or, even worse, scrambled!) they were mostly working at cross purposes. A couple of techs had been going round opening up every door and bulkhead they could find, so people could at least move around the station. A quick scramble through a maintenance shaft to the next deck, and she'd met another tech sealing as many doors and bulkheads as they could in case the station was holed. And a minute later she'd come across two security crew almost coming to blows over whether some signals analysts should try to get to the shuttle bay to escape the station, or should shelter in place.
The signals analysts had finally ignored the two squabbling men and started heading for the computer core, to see if they could restore communications.
And the problem was, none of them were doing anything stupid, or wrong. There was simply no standard procedure for this situation.
I must send a recommendation to Starfleet Command; standard procedure and drills for loss of all systems during an ongoing attack!
She scrambled to her locker, and hauled out the bulky flight case that was still in there. She was vaguely surprised; perhaps Carew didn't have Security spying on all the crew all the time. As quickly as she could she stripped and pulled on the skin tight under-suit, then started attaching the armour plates. If there was going to be explosions (or worse), she wanted some protection. And this suit was designed to protect against the sort of weapons the Recidivist crew would use... if they got hold of them.
She didn't want to think about what would happen if they got hold of phasers.
At the bottom of the case, the Reaper Blackstar lurked. Its bulbous, insectile form looked indefinably alive. And eager. She hesitated, chewing her lip in anxiety. Then she grabbed it and, her hands trembling, removed the trigger lock. She knew the Asari weapons attached to the back of the suit, but Orilai had never shown her how. Tentatively she lifted the sinister weapon up and over her shoulder, it's grip uppermost. With an abrupt pull, and a decisive clunk, it snapped into place.
Trathal froze, half expecting the horrible thing to suddenly go off, or send barbed feelers burrowing into her, or begin whispering beguiling horrors in her mind. But it just sat there. Almost like it was merely a weapon. And yet, she couldn't shake the growing feeling that there was an alien lifeform clinging to her back. Waiting...
On an abrupt impulse, she pulled the thing off and shoved it into the replicator. The replicator's control panel was unresponsive, but it was a simple matter to force the disposal function to trigger.
With a sigh of relief, she called up the suit's holographic display, and confirmed that its shields were set on 'reactive'. Thankfully the medi-gel dispenser was showing as 'unavailable'. Finally she attached the helmet to her hip. It made her more vulnerable, but with any luck station security weren't so panicked that they couldn't recognise an Andorian!
And then... there was nothing else to do. No more details to check. No more delays.
Now all she had to do, was... What? Board the Recidivist? Hack it... him remotely? Find the Recidivist crew? Get them to call him off? Kill them? Recapture them? Have they even escaped?!
She was supposed to have a plan, and the determination to carry it out, but all she truly had was the sense that they were hurtling out of out of control toward disaster. With the small phaser Rel had given her nestled in her hand, and a sense of growing dread in her heart, she left her quarters.
- Recidivist → Shepard & Dorot – Problem. I think those two techs got word out. There are a bunch of security converging on you.
+ Shepard + How?! We smashed their comm badge things, no live computer pickups in that cabin we dumped them in, the door was buckled shut... What did we miss?
# Dorot # Maybe nothing. Our gear's just past that junction ahead, Carew must've figured out we'd go here. Took him long enough. Recidivist, ETA?
- Recidivist – A couple of minutes. I'll run interference on doors and emergency shields, but I'll have to give up on pretty much everything else. I managed to throw another spanner in their comms, but not sure how much good it'll do... Sorry, Beni. Thought I could do better.
+ Shepard → All + Hostiles converging on us. Full speed!
Foster glanced back at her in alarm, then joined Thomas in a dash for the end of the crossroad in the corridor. They were in one of the straight radial corridors, the makeshift lab with their gear was in the circular corridor that intersected it.
Shepard joined the dash as soon as she had some space between her and the huntresses just ahead. This will be tricky. Can't dash far along a curved corridor. I suppose the curve will hide us from them until we're on top of them...
Foster and Thomas were now sprinting along the circular corridor, hugging the inner wall. Shepard was surprised at how well Foster was holding up. He didn't have the raw biotic power to make the grade as a marine, but he had more stamina than his doughy appearance suggested. Ahead she heard a shout, and abruptly Foster blurred in a charge. There was a thud and a pained cry as Thomas swung away from the corridor wall to get a clear line.
Shepard cleared the curve of the corridor, and saw that Foster's charge had smashed a security guard against the lab door. It had been a weak charge; the one he'd hit was down but groaning in pain, not dead or unconscious. The other had been thrown several yards down the corridor, but even though he was prone he was bringing his phaser to bear...
Thomas dashed. He must have halted just millimetres short, because one heel came down hard on the man's throat, crushing his windpipe, while the other kicked the phaser out of his hand.
The lab door slid open, and Shepard instinctively generated a singularity through it, throwing herself aside. The security guard at the door was pulled backward into the singularity. His phaser shot went wild, the beam dancing round the interior, until Shosak pounced through the doorway, snatched up a shotgun, and unloaded it into the twisting cluster of arms, legs and screams that was the technicians and security guard.
Silence fell, broken only by the muffled sound of Foster choking the surviving guard unconscious.
"Fuck. Everybody in there, NOW! Grab whatever gear they haven't dismantled!" She looked gloomily at the writhing path of destruction the errant phaser beam had left. "Or vaporised."
As her crew crowded hastily through the door, her singularity dispersed and the floating, twisting collection of limbs, internal organs and blood dropped to the floor with a wet splatter. "And someone get that mess out of here."
Forest had hated going into service ducts during training. Now he was starting to wonder if he was claustrophobic. He was sure the duct he was crawling through was narrower than when he entered it. And there seemed to be less air in it too.
"How much further?"
The technician he was following twisted round. "I want you to lick me passionately."
For a moment Forest stared at him, dumbstruck. "Oh damn and blast! Now the translators too?!"
"Debauchery!" The technician, scrabbled through his tool belt, and scrawled on the duct wall with a marker, NOT FAR.
Forest relaxed a bit. All Starfleet crew were required to understand Federation Standard, so if they could hear in the human vocal range, and write, he could communicate with them. Even if they were physiologically incapable of speaking it. But it might slow things down damnably. "Thank you."
A few yards further along the technician started climbing up a vertical shaft. Forest had just got on the ladder when above him he heard a startled screech of "Take me sideways!", followed by a bored, laconic sounding voice. "Oh, relax, I'm not here to shoot you. Is there anyone there who speaks Federation Standard?"
Forest called up, "Captain Forest of the USS Ptolemy. Nobody else."
There was a brief silence, then "Yes Sir. Come on up. I'm... I'm sorry about the Ptolemy, Sir."
At the top of the ladder a security crewman was lying prone, phaser pointed at the top of the ascending shaft. Forest felt a shiver of anxiety. "The Recidivist crew have broken free?"
The crewman nodded gloomily. "Killed the team guarding them. Slowly, according to the medic who managed to get word to us. Captain Carew can tell you more, but... well, command centre's the most organised place on the station, and that's a madhouse right now. Probably worse, now the translators are compromised. Go on through, Sir."
Forest edged past him, and followed the technician through a hatch and into the command centre.
He could immediately see why Carew mostly stayed in his office. 'Command centre' was a rather glorified term for the room he entered. A cramped space with a collection of consoles placed haphazardly, most of them against the walls so crew manning them had their backs to everyone else. And at the moment, most of those consoles seemed to have been half dismantled, with cabling vomiting out of them onto the floor, and draped across them. Crew, two or three to a console, were hunched over peering at tricorders that had been hardwired to the mess of exposed cabling.
A few of the crew were muttering obscenities, though Forest couldn't be sure if that was because of the faulty translators, or just because of the situation. He spotted Carew in tense discussion with a couple of the crew. Carew looked over, and suddenly seemed to relax a fraction. He broke away from the crew and hurried over, a worried half smile on his face.
"Rupert, I'm glad you're all right. I was afraid you'd already beamed back to the Ptolemy."
For a moment Forest felt an unreasonable urge to shout 'This is your fault!' But he suppressed that. "Any word from the Ptolemy?"
Carew shook his head. "A visual check and rough count of escape capsules suggests fatalities of between ten and forty percent. Most capsules have made it to our shuttle bay, but we still haven't got communications there."
"Martin, how did this happen? What happened?!"
Carew glanced over at one of the crew, who just shrugged helplessly and went back to working on his tricorder. "We don't know. The systems are all up and running, but every control panel on the station went dead simultaneously. We've had to do this" he waved a hand at the chaos around them "just to access a few low-level functions. We can get control back by restarting systems, but they go down again within a minute or two. Sometimes within seconds." He moved over to one of the console chairs, picking his way over a mess of wiring, sat, and started studying a tricorder. "We've got some point-to-point comms up, but we're having to patch in terminals and comm badges one by one. And voice control is out of the question, ask for a life-signs scan and we might set off a self-destruct."
"Your man in the access shaft said the Recidivist crew got loose..."
Carew nodded gloomily. "A couple of techs managed to get in touch. Hacked a replicator's voice input, spliced it to the emergency life support alert system. Said they'd encountered them in turboshaft four. Looks like they're heading for their weapons."
Forest took a deep breath, opened his mouth... Their weapons are on the station?!... then shut it. If he started screaming recriminations now, he thought he'd never stop. He hissed, softly. "Martin, if they get to those weapons... You didn't see what they did to those Jem'Hadar. It'll be a massacre! You... you have to give them clear passage to their ship, get them off the station!"
"And once they're off the station, what's to stop them from destroying it?" Carew didn't sound angry. Just wearily resigned. "Do you really think they wouldn't kill us all? Of course they would. Rupert, they're not explorers. They're not diplomats. They're soldiers!"
He scowled at the tricorder in his hand, tapped a couple of commands in, then shook his head and put it down. Looked up at Forest. "Our best chance of survival is to stop them leaving the station until the USS Eclipse gets here. We're broadcasting a distress signal with information on their ship's combat capabilities. Once the Eclipse has disabled or destroyed that, they'll have no choice but to surrender."
Forest realised, with a sense of almost palpable despair, that he couldn't think of any response to that.
"Sir, message from ensign Mattis!" The sudden shout from one of the crew jolted him out of his inertia. Carew snapped "Put it through!"
Abruptly, sound filled the small room. The sound of a frantic voice, accompanied, and sometimes drowned out, by the sound of hammering impacts, crackling plasma, concussive thuds and, very occasionally, the shrill sound of phaser fire.
"###tercepted section three, corridor ###. Coulson and #### dead. Toual bleed### out. Attemp#### to fall b### to"
The voice suddenly broke off with a strangled cry. For a few seconds the sound of frantic shouts, and screams, could be heard before there was an ear splitting CRACK. Then silence.
The crewman's faint, almost whispered "Signal lost..." sounded terribly loud.
Shepard ran through a grainy fog. Walls, floors and ceilings were visible and solid, and simultaneously see through. She could see federation crew on either side of the corridor, some still trying to open unresponsive doors, others clustered together in small groups or sitting in doleful isolation. And one...
The figure tucked just behind the door jamb in one cabin suddenly lit up on MEP cast.
~ Shosak → All ~ Armed hostile, Ierev, D'roshi, Gucks.
The three marines rushed forward, and in a well practised move Ierev slammed open the door, D'Roshi generated a singularity, and Gucks generated a warp field. Their actions were very nearly simultaneous. Along with a high pitched shriek of pain from the Federation crew was a rapidly rising whine. Ierev forced the door closed an instant before the woman's phaser exploded.
~ Shosak ~ Nicely done, marines.
We're moving too slowly. They're getting organised. Shepard glanced back to where Dorot was supporting Thomas. The wiry marine had caught a phaser shot on his left arm. He'd actually dived in front of the shot to protect tech Myrashi.
Can't leave him, not an option. Stupid fucker! Why did he think we prioritised the marines for the surviving armour plating? This is a stand up fight, the techs are disposable!
His arm had been a mess, burnt by the armour plates and under-suit as the phaser heated them to incandescence. Even the medi-gel couldn't save flesh that had been cooked on the bone. Teiada had sliced his arm off above the elbow, left the medi-gel to stop the bleeding, control the pain, and rebuild skin over the stump.
He might be fit, after a fashion, in a day or two, but the combination of shock and medication meant he couldn't even stand unaided right now.
Between the Federation dismantling their gear, and damage by that phaser in the lab, they were low on both weapons and armour plate. At least, by some miracle, all the under-suits and helmets were intact, so they could survive vacuum. And they had enough armour plate for all the marines. Most of the techs were missing several pieces, and their nano-fabricators were running at full pelt trying to break down damaged pieces and remake them. But that would take hours yet.
An unpleasant thought wormed its way to the surface of her mind. We could leave him. He's human. He could fit into this universe. We could take his weapons and armour plate and... No. Not an option!
- Recidivist → Shepard & Dorot – Beni, I'm sorry, they got internal shield control back. Only for a couple of seconds, but that was long enough. Shields went up all over the place, and now they've vanished from the system. I can't find them!
+ Shepard + Did you see which ones?
- Recidivist – Some, not all.
Shepard swore softly.
+ Shepard + Get us a new route, avoid the ones you know went up.
- Recidivist – I'll try.
+ Shepard → All + Heavy weapons to strongest biotics up front, we're going to have shields to tear down!
She, Dorot and Gucks moved forward through the jogging marines ahead. She heard a shout of "Commander, catch!" from behind, and twisted round to catch the heavy particle rifle that was tossed to her. She preferred a ballistic assault rifle, but this would combine better with Dorot and Gucks very high calibre weapons to tear through plating to the shield projectors below.
She turned back to look ahead, and realised there was a force field ahead. Just as on the Higgs, it was a barrier to the MEP. She could see past its edges into cabins on either side, but not through the field itself. It was just behind an emergency atmosphere bulkhead that had sealed the corridor.
+ Shepard → Recidivist + There's a bulkhead across the corridor...
- Recidivist – Inaccessible.
"Fuck. Dorot, Gucks, on my mark. Everyone else, they can shoot those phasers through their own shields, so hit the deck. And... MARK!"
Without breaking stride all three charged their biotics. Gucks and Dorot ripped the bulkhead out of its frame, slamming it against the wall, and Shepard started to generate a warp on the far side...
"Sstopp!"
Shepard hastily dispersed her warp at Shosak's barked command. She'd caught a glimpse of a figure darting behind the frame of the bulkhead.
There was a faint, familiar clunk, the sound of someone securing a helmet, then part of a helmeted head peered round the bulkhead frame. A marine issue helmet with a blue face showing through the faceplate.
Shepard felt a sense of dislocation. She knew all her crew were behind her, and yet, here was an Asari in marine armour... Then she realised that, just visible below the top edge of the faceplate, was a thin fringe of bone white hair, and there were two short ridges running back from just above the forehead.
"Lieutenant Trathal?!"
The figure disappeared again. There was a crack, a sizzling sound, and the force-field flickered and died. The lieutenant, now visible on MEP as a ghostly grey figure, stepped out into direct view. Her face was utterly devoid of expression, and the fingers of her left hand tapped unconsciously against the armour plating on her thigh. When she spoke, the small Andorian woman's voice was as empty of expression as her face.
"I can help you avoid security personnel. Where are you heading?"
The DS6 control centre had developed a strange air of organised chaos. Tricorders, patched into the low level systems, had themselves been patched into console panels with high level control circuitry removed. The various consoles were now open messes of wiring with their control panels balanced on top, perched on chairs, or lying on the floor, with crew variously standing, sitting and squatting to use them.
Communications were partly restored... after a fashion. Point to point communications, without assistance of station computers. Which meant that contacting anyone meant finding their comm badge ID in a hastily constructed list on a secure pad. Or, as no-one really trusted any system at the moment, on one of a dozen sheets of coloured origami paper that had been dug out of a personal locker somewhere.
There was a constant chatter of anxious, overlapping conversations, interspersed by urgent shouts as crew tried to find some vital piece of information, and various shouts in response as others tried to answer; often at cross purposes.
Forest felt his own emotions were in a similar state as the control centre.
He wanted to take revenge on Shepard and her crew for what they'd done to the Ptolemy. He wanted to punish Carew for precipitating the disaster. He wanted to protect the crew on the station.
He wanted to wash his hands of the whole affair and leave.
He took refuge in trying to organise medical services, first responders and technical crew. He left the security work to Carew, who more than had his hands full dealing with that. But receiving reports from first responders left him with a growing sense of the unfolding disaster.
"... multiple compound fractures and internal haemorrhaging. The other... we think he fell, or was thrown, down a turbolift shaft. We'll probably have to mop him up..."
"Crushed trachea, he died by suffocation. The other has multiple fractures. Without access to medical he's unlikely to survive."
"Just... just blood. Blood and... pieces! In the room. And the corridor outside..."
"... impossible to say. The phaser explosion, in that confined space, didn't leave much."
"... plasma burns, it looks like, and multiple fractures, including compound. Others suffered from internal trauma and uncontrolled bleeding. And a lot of... well, massive puncture wounds. Not like anything I've seen. Ballistic projectile fire? Anyway, they're all dead. Slowly, some of them."
Rupert!"
His head jerked up, and he realised Carew was standing over him. "Wh... what?"
Carew was looking tense. And determined. "Rupert, you're zoning out. Listen, we've got sensors up... sort of... and I think we know what they're doing. They're not just running around blindly, they're heading for docking bay four by a roundabout route, using service access and turbolift shafts, trying to stay below our radar.
"I'm taking a team to intercept them there, try and delay them at the very least, and I need you to keep organising things here, let me know of any developments."
For a moment Forest stared at him blankly. Then, in the welter of thoughts and emotions chasing through his mind, a moment of clarity. He pulled himself to his feet. He didn't feel determined, or energised; just resigned. But he clung to that clarity.
"I have to be there."
"Rupert, no! I have no illusions about our chances..."
"Martin, they killed the Ptolemy. They killed my ship! I have to be there."
Carew hesitated, then nodded sadly. "Very well. Lieutenant Powell, carry on here. And keep trying to contact the USS Eclipse. And commander Beiat."
"Sir."
Trathal decided that she was having the strangest and most surreal experience of her life. She'd once read an old Earth tale, Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, and she had difficulty shaking the feeling that she'd fallen down a rabbit hole somewhere without noticing.
Or that she'd fallen up the rabbit hole; as she and Orilai were currently rising unsupported through a turbolift shaft, that was a much more precise way of looking at it.
She clamped down on the sudden urge to start giggling. She may have been trapped in a surreal dream, but she should at least be professional about it.
There was a crashing thump above her, and light suddenly shone down the shaft from above.
I'm rising through darkness into a bright light. Maybe those old human religions were right after all. That's hilarious! Humans don't even believe that any more. I might end up as the prophet of an ancient, dead, alien religion!
It was getting very hard not to start laughing, but she did indulge herself in a muffled snort. She could handle that. With Orilai's big arm wrapped around her, carrying her up, she could handle anything. She wished she could talk to her directly, instead of through Shepard. I must try and learn Asari. Or maybe Ori could learn Andorian?
Above her she heard Shepard utter an explosive, warbling trill, in her startlingly high pitched voice. Probably an Asari curse. Then, in her much lower pitched Federation Standard (or 'English', as Shepard insisted on calling it); "Trathal, force field over the doorway."
She looked up, squinting against the light, and wordlessly highlighted the local systems access panel on MEP cast. Orilai moved closer so she could reach, and she opened the panel and started work. It wasn't simple to take down a security field, but if you knew enough about how the systems were connected there was always a way.
As she worked, she indulged herself in the fantasy that she was breaking into a Human afterlife. She laughed softly at the ridiculous idea.
- Recidivist – Sorry, Beni. It's all I can do to stop them launching their shuttles. And if I try burning a hole for you... I don't know what sort of chain reaction I might set off.
+ Shepard + Fine, we stick to the plan.
# Dorot → Shepard # That Andorian's gone off the deep end.
+ Shepard + So?
# Dorot # So we dump her. Seal her in a cabin and move on.
+ Shepard + Why? For her sake? Fuck that. As long as she can bring down force fields faster than we can I'm using her.
There was a soft sizzling sound and the field over the door disappeared.
+ Shepard + Case in point.
Dorot made a discontented rumbling sound, but didn't say any more.
Shepard stepped with relief through the door onto the deck of the corridor. As the marines started piling out of the turbolift shaft and forming up, Trathal started scampering down the corridor, toward another security field. Then came to a sudden halt and back-pedalled toward them.
A figure had stepped out of an adjoining cabin, pointing a phaser. Shepard gathered her biotics, raised her weapon and...
~ Shosak → Shepard ~ Pardon me, Commander.
… Shosak darted past her and moved forward, blocking her line of fire. Before she could call him back, his deceptively quick, loping stride had brought him too close to the figure for her to use a biotic attack without hitting him as well.
"Sergeant! Get back here!"
Shepard belatedly recognised the figure as Carew's security chief, Xah.
Shosak didn't attack, but stopped and barked a series of harsh, guttural sounds. The Klingon's eyes narrowed... and then she inclined her head, replied in (apparently) the same language, lowered her weapon and stepped aside.
+ Shepard → Shosak + Sergeant, what in Piares' name...?! You can speak her language?
~ Shosak ~ Naturally. Klingon is an elegant and subtle tongue. Unlike... some other languages I could name.
+ Shepard + … Whatever you say. How did you get her to back down?
~ Shosak ~ I merely suggested to Ms Xah that there is no honour in fighting for the honourless. She sees the merit in my view.
+ Shepard + Yeah, well I'm not taking the chance she won't shoot us in the back...
Shosak whirled round, glaring at her, his mouth gaping. "Ssshe will not! Sshe is Klingon! Sshe is honourable! Not like Assari!"
Shepard took a half-step back in surprise, and some alarm. Dorot moved forward, but she hastily held up her hand to halt him. Then she moved forward herself, so she looked down on Shosak's slightly stooped form.
"Sergeant, I'm letting you off with a reprimand, but speak to me like that again and I'll gut you. Now form up the crew and move out!"
Shosak hissed softly at her, then turned away barking "Marinesss, all, follow!" before loping off down the corridor. The marines and huntresses immediately fell into an orderly column and followed (some of them giving Shepard sour looks), with the techs following rather more raggedly. Shepard glanced hastily round for Trathal. "Lieutenant, go with the Sergeant and clear the way, Dorot and I will catch up."
Trathal hesitated. "Commander, you aren't going to..."
"No," Shepard snarled, though the words felt like ground glass in her throat. "I'm going to secure her in that cabin. Now... please help the Sergeant. The longer it takes us, the worse things are going to get!"
As Trathal moved away Xah gave her a venomous glare.
That's going to be a fucking mess. Pity, I'd hoped no-one would recognise Trathal. Still, that's her problem.
Shepard clicked her tongue to get the Klingon's attention, and jerked the muzzle of her gun toward the open cabin door. Xah retreated, keeping a wary eye on her. Once she was in the cabin, Shepard used her biotics to force the door closed, then hit it with a blow that warped the door in its frame.
She started running down the corridor to move up the column to the head, Dorot keeping pace with a little difficulty. He cleared his throat. "Shosak will be trouble."
"What? No. The huntresses may be sulky for a while, but Shosak won't hate me more than he hates everybody already. But he did surprise me."
"By standing up for that Klingon?"
"No. They've been screwing for days, in between beating the shit out of each other. He's probably half convinced she's another Vorcha. No, I was just surprised he's actually learned another language. Trust him to learn the language of the most violent and aggressive person on the station."
"I thought that was you."
"... Fine. The second most."
Forest hefted the phaser rifle that had been pressed into his hands by one of the security crew.
It seemed heavier than he remembered from his holodeck training. Heavier, and bulkier. He could see it was the same model, and he was sure that the holodeck programs had been accurate.
Maybe it's me. Maybe it's been too long since I had refresher training.
Maybe it's because I know this is a real rifle. That I'll be using it to kill real people.
He looked down into the docking bay. It wasn't the same one where he'd first met Shepard and her crew in person when they'd arrived on the station, but it may as well have been. There was an opening large enough to admit a couple of cargo shuttles, currently sealed by the massive bay doors; a random collection of cargo crates on the docking bay floor which the security crew were arranging to provide makeshift barricades; an upper gantry, accessible from a corridor that ran parallel to the upper wall of the bay, to aid servicing of shuttles and provide oversight during loading and unloading. There was also a handful of security crew up on the gantry along with Forest.
Carew had told him to get up to the gantry. He'd been very definite about that.
From below, among the urgent, nervous commands and queries as the crew organised themselves, Forest heard a sudden oath. Then Carew's raised voice.
"Listen up! I've just had word, the escaped prisoners are moving fast! Much faster than we realised. There's no time for commander Beiat's team to get here, so it's just us. Those barricades will have to do, get in position!"
Shepard stared at the faint grey figures revealed by her MEP scanners, and felt like screaming.
+ Shepard → Dorot + What do we do now?!
# Dorot # Go through.
+ Shepard + Seriously? We had enough trouble with the Jem'Hadar, and they were scattered, unprepared and a lot of them injured. This lot...
# Dorot # Aren't as good as the Jem'Hadar. We'll lose some crew, but acceptable losses.
+ Shepard + … And if we take another route to the hull?
# Dorot # We'd have to go through an airlock. Even if we blow it out, we'd be going out in damn near single file. Easy pickings for any shuttle they manage to launch. This close, Recidivist couldn't use his cannon or torpedoes without risking the whole station, and even a shuttle's shields would shrug off his point defences. We could lose everyone.
+ Shepard + Fine. Through it is.
+ Shepard → All + Looks like the clever shits anticipated this. It's going to be hairy, but they're low on numbers and nowhere near as good as those Jem'Hadar. Marines, we'll do a standard flash rush attack. Techs, I want drones sent through the moment we have a crack of access. Then move in behind the marines, fan out to the walls, seek cover, and provide whatever fire you can. Chief S'Koil, can you and your techs overload their phasers?
* S'Koil * Yes, but the blast will be severe. Could even cause a chain reaction.
+ Shepard + Then only do that if things are going very badly. Everyone clear on what we're doing?
There were silent nods all round.
+ Shepard + Good. On my mark...
* S'Koil → Shepard * What about Trathal?! We can't take her into a firefight!
Shepard rolled her eyes and turned to Trathal. The Andorian was staring at the MEP view beyond the big double doors into the docking bay, shaking her head silently in either denial or despair.
"Trathal..."
Trathal twitched, and twisted round. "I didn't tell them!"
"Calm down, I know you didn't. Listen, this isn't your fight. Get out of here, destroy that suit, with any luck no-one can prove you helped us. Now go!"
Trathal stared at her wide-eyed for a moment, turned to look at Orilai, then turned back. All of a sudden there were tears running down her face, but her expression was hard, sharp and cold. And more present than it had been since they'd encountered her at that force field. She shook her head firmly. "No. You'll never get the outer bay doors open fast enough. Or at all. You need me."
Even though he'd thought he was ready, Forest jumped as the double doors from the station to the docking bay suddenly jerked open a foot or so. A few security crew fired speculative phaser shots at the gap, just as a dozen small, ephemeral shapes sailed through the narrow gap.
They moved erratically, and at first Forest dismissed them as a distraction measure. Then one of the security team yelped as a drone zipped close to him, jerking violently as if he'd received an electric shock.
As phaser shots began lancing out, attempting to hit the translucent, erratically dancing shapes, several small, solid objects sailed arced through the gap before bouncing and rolling toward the barricades. Someone shouted "GRENADES!" an instant before they exploded.
Concussive blasts hammered at Forest's ears, he heard someone screaming, and he realised he'd instinctively thrown himself flat. He lifted his head at a grinding THUMP, and saw figures pouring into the docking bay through the now wide open doors.
A huge figure, one of the Krogan, suddenly blurred forward, slamming into one of the barricades and sending cargo crates and crew flying. He threw himself backward with startling agility for such a massive creature, a phaser beam flicking across the front of his armour. Then several of the cargo crates hurtled by themselves across the docking bay as incandescent blue plasma crawled over an Asari sized armoured figure, and there were several screams and panicked shouting.
Forest hadn't been in live combat, but he'd trained in holodeck simulations. None of them had been like this. They had been filled with the sound of phaser fire, shouted commands, urgent warnings and quick, precise coordination. They hadn't included panicked yells, the flat hammering of assault rifles and screams of pain. The simulations had been all about lines of fire, defensive positions and flanking manoeuvres. They hadn't involved defensive cover being picked up and hurled through the air as a weapon. None of them involved defenders being lifted from behind cover by some sort of gravitational vortex (which had Forest grabbing at the gantry railing to avoid being dragged into it himself) and then torn to pieces by ballistic gunfire.
And none of them... none of them had defenders, scrambling for new cover, being knocked down, blinded and choked by the dismembered bodies and blood of their colleagues being hurled at them.
Forest retrieved his rifle from where it had fallen (or someone else's? Had his gone in the gravitational vortex?) and, crawling to the edge of the gantry, peered down.
There was blood and bodies everywhere. Not all of them Federation, several Recidivist crew were down, but it was mostly Federation. He couldn't get a proper view, not without rising from his prone position, so he started taking shots more or less at random. He realised that reinforcements had arrived, and were also shooting down from the gantry. A figure skidded through the door just behind Forest, dropping down beside him.
"Sir! Commander Beiat, what... Oh shit!"
Without waiting for a reply, the commander rose to a crouch and made two quick, precise shots. Then an unseen force snatched him over the railing and he fell to the floor. Forest saw one of the Krogan, charging across the docking bay, stamp heavily on Beiat's head as it passed.
And he saw Carew's stocky form, lying face down, a smoking hole in his back.
This is hopeless. I can't keep grovelling here. I have to... something...
Forest was vaguely aware that he was in shock. Then his aimlessly wandering gaze settled on something different. Amidst the rapid movement, the noise and the overwhelming stench of blood, was a tiny little point of stillness. Two figures, crouched by the outer doors of the docking bay. By a service panel.
One of them, smaller than most Asari, was working with precise, rapid movements. The other was crouched protectively over the first. It was holding a solid weapon a little longer than a phaser rifle, and was scanning the scene, occasionally firing what looked like a particle or plasma beam at some threat or other.
They're trying to get the doors open. To escape.
He remembered urging Carew to let them do just that, but that had been a long time ago. Now... now he switched his rifle to long shot mode, and looked through the scope that lifted from the top.
He realised that the smaller figure was working to open the outer doors with Federation tools. And it... she had two strange ridges running back along the top of her helmet. He couldn't get his crosshairs precisely on either figure, not in this position. Gathering all his courage, he rose to a crouch and adjusted his aim, focussing on the larger of the two.
He was looking straight into Shepard's eyes.
This is it. She's seen me. I'm going to die now.
As her eyes narrowed, his finger moved toward the firing stud... and stopped.
He realised that he couldn't fire.
He could sit on the bridge of a starship, and command the deaths of hundreds. He could man the security console on a bridge, and lay in a shot that would kill hundreds. But he couldn't look someone in the eye and end their life.
For an instant that seemed to last an eternity, they stared into each other's eyes. Then, as blue plasma seemed to crawl over her, he raised the muzzle of his rifle.
Shepard crouched over Trathal, sweating.
She was pouring as much biotic power as she dared into her barrier. She knew it wouldn't do squat against a phaser shot, but there was a lot of shells and shrapnel flying around. And she hoped that maybe, just maybe it would do something to take the edge off a phaser shot. Just enough to let her shields and ablative armour stop one.
The way the fight was going, she wasn't hopeful. The Federation were unarmoured, but her crew's only real defence was to keep moving, and keep their enemies off balance.
As far as it went, they were succeeding, but the Federation were quick learners. Reinforcements had arrived, and these ones weren't trying to hunker down and defend. They were keeping to the corridors around the bay, especially at the upper level. They'd dart out from cover, let off a shot, then retreat.
It was like playing a deadly game of whack-a-mole, where one nip from a mole could kill. MEP scans helped, but they were losing people anyway.
Thomas had gone down almost immediately, too injured to fight effectively. Voltus had died in a crossfire of phasers, almost nothing left of him. Ierev and Teida were dead. And a couple of the techs. She hadn't seen Foster killed, but there was no sign of him, and there was a suspicious stain against one wall.
Gucks had lost an arm, but didn't seem to have noticed, fighting on with undimmed energy. But one more hit...
And with every one of them who died, their chances dwindled.
+ Shepard → Recidivist + Reci, Trathal's working on the bay doors. The moment they're open enough for us to get through, I want you to get the force field down. Not before, if you buckle the door mechanism and jam them closed we're done for.
- Recidivist – Got it.
+ Shepard + And if we don't get out, don't waste time throwing a tantrum. Get the fuck out! Get your wormhole drive humming and run! Get back to Parnitha, with a bit of luck you'll hop back to our universe somewhere en route. Warn them about the Borg. Come to that, warn them about the whole miserable bunch of whackjobs in this universe. That is an order! Confirm.
- Recidivist - … Confirmed.
Abruptly, Trathal tapped her on the shoulder with one of her tools. "Doors are powering up. Couple of seconds."
Kurinth be blessed!
Shepard opened her mouth to respond... and something caught her eye. A figure up on one of the gantries. She'd seen them lying there, thought it was a corpse. But now they were up on one knee, and had her in their sights. And she knew she couldn't bring her weapon to bear quickly enough.
Dorot was below the gantry, if he could fire upward he wouldn't need to be precise...
"DOROT! UP!"
Time seemed to slow to a crawl. The clamshell bay doors started opening ponderously, as Shepard gathered her last dregs of biotic power and Dorot swung his weapon vertical.
And in that timeless moment, the figure on the gantry raised the muzzle of their weapon, almost as if they were saluting.
Dorot's shotgun blast, augmented by a biotic slam, hit the underside of the gantry. Not near enough to the figure to hit them, but hard enough to buckle the gantry upward, throwing the figure off balance. An instant later Shepard's own biotic flare struck the buckled gantry, crushing it against the bay wall.
- Recidivist → All – Bringing down the force field, get clear and prepare for decompression!
Shepard grabbed hold of Trathal and threw herself away from the doors, just barely avoiding the searing beam of a phaser, instinctively twisting to return fire in vaguely the direction it had come from. She hit the deck, sliding, as a violent, ragged hammering shook the entire bay.
Oh goddess, he's using an ass-kiss! Piares, look away from us, Athame guard us!
The hammering intensified. It felt as if the station would be torn apart; she could see the hull, the deck near the doors shaking and buckling, as if an army of invisible giants were pounding it to shrapnel with thousand ton clubs!
With a rather sad and disappointing flicker, the force field died, and Shepard was swept toward the partly open doors, skidding over the deck. She hit the lower door hard, slid up it, and out into space.
Be on the ball Reci, for the goddess's sake...
She was spinning wildly, station, stars and the Recidivist's dark bulk flickering across her vision, but before she could gather her thoughts and get her suit to stabilise her, she was swallowed by darkness... and fell to the floor of Recidivist's loading bay.
With a groan she hauled herself to her feet. She hurt all over, and her legs were shaking, barely able to support her.
Can't rest now.
She looked out at the cloud of debris spraying out of the docking bay, trying to spot those fragments of debris that were her crew. She saw one, and used a biotic pull to drag them into Recidivist's loading bay. Then another. And another...
The two she'd pulled in first, Orilai and one of her techs, began hauling in others. Gucks sailed into the bay with someone tucked under the Krogan's one remaining arm, landed neatly, dropped them to the deck and joined in the rescue effort, dragging Dorot in.
The numbers of crew in the bay mounted, until...
"Beni, all survivors aboard, and we've got incoming. Sovereign class! Gotta run NOW!"
"Well then start running, what are you waiting for?!"
Shepard stood and watched the station receding. Briefly she could see the wreck of the USS Chadwick, its primary hull sliced in half and holes drilled through its secondary hull from side to side, and the USS Ptolemy. Huh. Reci really went easy on the Ptolemy. I must have a word with him, can't have a warship indulging in sentimentality.
As Recidivist accelerated the station dwindled in moments to a point of light, lost in the starscape even before the loading bay door closed. Then, as he reached minimum safe velocity, the whining hum of the wormhole drive started. Low pitched at first, gradually rising as they traversed wormholes ever faster.
"Commander, that Sovereign class ship, the USS Eclipse, might've got us if they'd floored it, but looks like they're stopping to help the station."
"Right. Thanks, Reci."
Shepard looked around the loading bay. It was crowded, but not as crowded as it should have been. We lost too many. Dorot would call it 'acceptable losses'. Probably laugh at me for being too soft if I say anything. But it was too many. Fuck the Federation.
Her legs were still shaking. Adrenaline, and fatigue. She staggered over to a crate of supplies and sat on it. Leant back against the hull and closed her eyes.
"Commander." That was Orilai's voice. What now? She opened her eyes, glanced around. Crew were removing their helmets. She spotted Orilai sitting up against the hull on the far side of the bay, with her arm around... around a small, blue skinned woman. Who had a neat cap of white hair, and two flexible antennae on her head.
Oh. Wonderful.
"Right. Who thought it would be a good idea to abduct a Federation citizen?"
Gucks lifted one hand. A field medic was dressing the cauterised stump of the Krogan's other arm.
Shepard knew what would happen if she called the Krogan to task. Gucks would just stare at her impassively, shrug, and say something gnomic. She decided she was just too tired to bother.
Ugh. I'm glad I haven't got any more like her in my command. Female Krogan are the worst. Don't blame her for escaping from Tuchanka, I wouldn't want to spend a few thousand years trying to have babies. But I could do without her attitude.
Got to ask Reci if he's got some nanite code that can regrow her arm. Illegal or not.
Shepard hauled herself to her feet and started to trudge over to the Andorian, who was just sitting there staring at the floor. She paused at the sound of angry muttering from some of the crew.
# Dorot → Shepard # This could turn ugly.
Shepard changed direction toward the inner door to Recidivist's interior. Stopped and turned, upright and formal, addressing her crew. "Stand at attention!"
The crew, as best they were able given fatigue and (mercifully few) injuries came to attention.
"Listen up! The only reason we're alive is because of Lieutenant Trathal. Anyone who has a problem with her has a problem with me! And I will regard any assault on her as an act of mutiny. Is that understood?"
There was a scattering of muttered 'Yessir's.
Shosak whacked one huntress across the back of her head (apparently at random) and yelled "Resspect your commander!" which got much louder and unified shouts of "Yes Sir!"
"Very well. Everybody, go and get food and rest, standard shifts are suspended for twenty four hours barring emergencies."
As crew began filtering slowly out of the bay into Recidivist, Shepard nodded gratefully to Shosak, who glared at her as if he wanted to rip her throat out. Or anybody's. It was good to know some things would never change.
"Chief, we're going to have to figure out... what's that?"
Something had changed. Some sound...
"Oh oh."
There was a bang and a whumph that could be heard the length of the ship, and Recidivist yelped. First in pain, then in alarm.
"Fire! I'm on fire!"
Suddenly techs who had been trudging wearily off to eat, or sleep, were running at full tilt, with marines scrambling to get out of their way.
Shit, the wormhole drive! Stupid to push it without proper testing. Now we're right back where we were!
Orilai scrambled to her feet, looked anxiously at Trathal.
"Chief, go! I've got this!" As Trathal, with an expression of mingled alarm and determination leapt up and started to dash after Orilai, Shepard caught hold of her, speaking in English now. "Not you Lieutenant. I need your help. Come with me."
She looked over to Dorot. "You too."
She guided Trathal toward bay three. Shit. Stuck in a war zone, with both sides hostile. This is.. Ugh.
She sat, and leaned toward Trathal, while Dorot slid into his oversized chair. "Lieutenant, I'm sorry you've ended up with us..."
"I'm not."
Trathal had the look of someone trying to appear determinedly cheerful while lying her ass off. Shepard tried not to look too openly sceptical. "Well, we owe you our lives. I wish we could repay you. Instead, I'm going to ask you for even more help.
"Since we haven't just blown up, I'm guessing Recidivist... er that's..."
"Yes. I know." Trathal wasn't looking cheerful now. She was looking coolly angry. Shepard was glad that anger wasn't being directed at her; or, at least, not directly.
"Ahem. Yes. Anyway, as we haven't blown up, I'm guessing he's wrecked his wormhole drive." She sighed. "Which leaves us worse off than before; stranded in the wrong universe, in a war zone, with two nightmare-fuel civilisations gunning for us!
"So, my question is... Where the hell do we go now?"
Trathal sat silently for a bit, eyes cast down, Frowning in thought. Then she brightened up a little. "Well, you could... Oh. No, that wouldn't... Hm."
She thought for a little longer, while Shepard and Dorot waited. Shepard anxiously, and Dorot impassively.
"Err... Um."