Chapter 7 – Assault on the Control Room

January 23rd, 2211, 2114 hours – Aboard the SSV Hippocrates, Deck 7, Bridge main entryway

4 hours and 14 minutes after Outbreak

"Mierda, this door isn't just electronically locked, it's welded shut," Camilla cursed angrily as she typed string after string of code into her omni-tool. She paused to tuck a strand of errant hair behind her ear before returning to her ruthless electronic assault on the door.

"Can you open it?"

The door to the Bridge was roughly a foot thick, made with reinforced poly-steel and further coated in a strong, titanium alloy designed to withstand RPG's, angry krogan pirates, and most certainly the biotically-assisted kicks that I tended to favor in situations that didn't require stealth and finesse.

Camilla huffed and blew another strand of hair out of her eyes. "I think so," she replied, "I can't cut through the door but I may be able to de-activate the omni-gel that they used to weld it shut. Shouldn't be too hard, whoever did it seems to have done a rushed job. I've already deactivated the electronic lock too, so once I get rid of the omni-gel it should open automatically."

"Can't you go any faster? We're kind of exposed out here to all kinds of bad things," Cade complained, his eyes darting nervously from wall to wall.

We were in a large vestibule right outside the Bridge. About four other open doors funneled directly into the vestibule, while directly across from us were the doors to the Main Central Passageway, which were oddly still sealed. Odd because Percival should have led the survivors right through there to await us on the bridge.

"If you think you can do it faster than me by smooth-talking it into opening with your big, fat mouth, by all means," Camilla snapped at him.

Cade grinned at her scathing response rather than respond with his own, which from the look in Camilla's eyes only served to further increase her anger. As much as I disproved of his childish antics, I guess I'd rather have Cade get under her skin than those freakish monsters. She turned her attention back to the door and continued working on the problem at hand.

"Cade, try and raise the Bridge and Percival again," I ordered him in an attempt to give him something to do that wasn't distracting to Camilla. The faster she could finish the faster less time we'd spend completely exposed. She nodded thankfully to me before resuming her work.

Cade spoke quietly into his comms. set for a few moments as I watched with apprehension. After about a minute, he turned to me and nodded sadly. I sighed and rubbed my eyes with my hand.

"No response, but no static either. Percival's probably not in range or he would have picked up, I also think that someone's on the Bridge and choosing not to respond," he reported.

Why someone wouldn't pick up the phone when we were right freaking here was beyond me. "Damn," I cursed. "Alright, stop trying for now, we don't want to give away our position to any saboteurs who might be listening."

"Wouldn't want to make it too easy," Cade smiled.

"Your mother should have followed the same advice," Camilla chimed in.

Cade gave her a light kick in the backside that sent her reeling off balance, causing her to let out a yelp of surprise and to curse at him in Spanish. I shot Cade an admonishing look and he shrugged sheepishly. I pointed two fingers back at the direction of the four doors that would serve as the most likely entry points for hostiles and he sighed and pointed his rifle towards them.

"About done," Camilla called out.

Cade sighed again, this time in relief, and slowly backed up to take position on one side of the door while I did the same on the opposite side. Camilla tapped a few more commands into her omni-tool and suddenly a soft whirr could be heard being emitted from the internal motors within the door. Cade and I tensed up, ready for whatever came next.

The doors slid open and the familiar sound of some rookie uselessly cocking their weapon reached my ears. Before I could throw up a Barrier, Cade, given ample warning by that sound, dove on-top of Camilla just as a withering hail of badly placed shots flew towards the door.

Camilla gave a muffled shout of surprise as a barrage of shots caused his kinetic shielding to flare and crackle. The shielding on Cade's turian Ghost Infiltrator armor was at least three times as strong as the standard factory-default set on Camilla's scavenged Elkoss Combine suit, had Cade not reacted with such speed she would surely have died just then.

Thankfully Cade's natural instinct was to get on top of a girl so Camilla was luckily able to avoid that untimely fate. I threw up a Barrier just as my friend's kinetic shields fizzled out, the bullets now bouncing off of my blue, fiery bubble instead of Cade.

"Wait! Don't shoot! Can't you see they're unchanged?!" I heard a flanged voice shout from within the Bridge.

The gunfire stopped and I let my Barrier fall with a wave of my hand before angrily marching into the room. Cade rose to his feet and snarled, obviously furious at having nearly been shot to death by a bunch of trigger-happy rookies. He dusted himself off and held out a hand to Camilla, who took it and pulled herself up, shaking uncontrollably at her close brush with death.

A human bridge officer with an angry look on his face and a smoking M-8 Avenger held in his hands scowled at another turian bridge officer, evidently the one who had spoken up.

I stormed up to the one holding the M-8 Avenger and punched him viciously in the gut, knocking the air out of him and causing him to double over in pain. Before he could drop to the ground, I threw my armored knee into his chin, snapping his neck back and throwing him flat on his back where he lay unconscious. I didn't bother to check for a pulse, instead turning an angry set of eyes onto the next bridge officer –a scared-looking female communications officer. She backed away as fast as she could, bumping into a salarian navigations officer.

I felt the barrel of what was most certainly an M-3 Predator press itself against the back of my head. I sighed inwardly and immediately dipped a few inches down, putting my head ever so slightly out of the way of the barrel. Lightning fast, I pivoted left and swept my left hand up to where the barrel of the gun had been, grabbing it and using my right to swiftly pry it out of the wielder's hands. Not an easy trick, and certainly not something you wanted to do when someone had a loaded gun to your head unless you were absolutely sure you could do it without getting your brains blown out.

I trained my appropriated M-3 Predator at the scowling face of Captain Jameson Farragut. I watched with satisfaction as Cade pulled out his Carnifex and pointed it directly at the Captain's back, well out of arm's reach I might add.

"Stand down, Spectre, or I will have you arrested and tried for treason!" Captain Farragut boomed.

A period of silence followed as the bridge crew watched our little stare-down, eyes wide and breath hitched. Captain Farragut was breathing deeply as he waited for my response, a thin river of sweat falling from his temple onto the lapel of his uniform. The silence and tension was palpable, a thick, heavy blanket that threatened to smother everyone in the room. I couldn't help it much longer, the big, stupid look on his face merely serving to incense me further.

I slowly began wheezing with laughter. Silently at first as I tried to hold it in, but the volume became progressively louder and louder as I tried and failed to stifle it. The M-3 Predator in my hands shook as I tried to suppress my chortles, but I failed horribly judging by the look of increasing anger on Captain Farragut's face. I blinked back a few tears in my eyes as my laughter intensified; now transitioning from a breathy, wheezing chortle into full-on mocking laughter.

Cade made eye contact with me from behind Captain Farragut and gave me a slight grin. Unlike pretty-boy Percival, who had a nice, friendly laugh that made it sound like he was always laughing with you, the kind you'd expect from a dude named Lancelot, and Cade who, like all turians with their inhuman anatomy, was only capable of producing a deep, throaty chuckle on the translators, my laughter always sounded mean in comparison. It would always start out as a wheeze as I tried to tamper it down, but despite my best efforts it would eventually transition into a weird sort of mocking laughter, as if I was watching you do something incredibly stupid and enjoying it.

And in my defense I was currently watching Captain Farragut do something incredibly stupid. Threatening a Spectre with treason in the line of duty, if that didn't bring a tear to my eye I didn't know what would. I wasn't Systems Alliance, I wasn't one of their fucking N7 boy scouts or those trigger-happy Alliance Corsairs. I was a Spectre. I was goddamn Special Tactics and Reconnaissance.

Maybe Farragut liked to hit the bottle more than I gave him credit for if he thought threatening me with treason would even remotely work. I most certainly wasn't going to fucking obey a man who had ordered his crew to shoot on sight, nearly killing my best friend, and in all likelihood was a danger to the survivors aboard this ship. What a fucking tosser.

"Operative Cloud, please lower your weapon!" pleaded a flanged voice that I recognized as belonging to the bridge officer who had called for the cease-fire.

I stopped laughing and turned to face the speaker, one eyebrow cocked in surprise.

"Lieutenant-Commander Barthilus, glad to know you're still alive," I greeted him, not once shifting my aim from the scowling mug of Farragut. I deliberately emphasized the 'you're', because if I couldn't shoot the idiot in front of me I could at least assuage my machismo with some good old passive-aggressive wordplay.

"Put down your weapon or I will have you hanged!" Farragut threatened loudly.

I ignored him, instead keeping my eyes on Lieutenant-Commander Barthilus. His eyes pleaded silently with mine, his mandibles drooped down towards the ground and his tone was calm and placating.

"Please, the situation is dire, the ship's overrun and we've lost contact with almost every single deck. We need to work together right now, not against each other," he begged.

Eventually I sighed and relented. Lieutenant-Commander Barthilus was right. I flicked the safety on and quickly removed the heatsink and the ammunition block from the M-3 Predator and stored them in my own utility belt for later. Satisfied, I tossed the useless paperweight at Farragut's feet, who wisely refrained from saying anything, instead simply picking up the weapon and shoving it in the hands of some poor bridge officer standing beside him.

Lieutenant-Commander Barthilus sighed in relief. Cade lowered his Carnifex and Camilla stepped out from behind him, eyes wide at the little Mexican stand-off that she had just born witness to. I saw maybe two dozen bridge officers all in the room, a few of them had M-8 Avengers or M-3 Predators but the majority of them were unarmed or had make-shift weapons. I looked around and saw no sign of Percival or my marines.

I turned to Lieutenant-Commander Barthilus. "Spectre Percival was supposed to be headed to the Bridge with a bunch of survivors in tow, have you had any contact with him?" I asked him.

Lieutenant-Commander Barthilus shifted uneasily, his eyes darting to Farragut briefly before looking back at me apologetically.

Farragut strode forwards, back straight and apparently unfazed at my earlier treatment of him. Either that or he didn't learn his lesson. What a fucking tosser.

Farragut adjusted his cuffs, smoothed out the front of his command uniform and drew himself up to his full height. "I ordered the Bridge sealed and any survivors turned away. I deemed the safety of the command crew of paramount importance, I could not risk the Bridge of this ship falling into the hands of those monsters."

A moment of silence fell over the Bridge, so quiet that for a moment I thought that I could hear my blood rushing through my arteries. I narrowed my eyes at Farragut. "You ordered the survivors turned away?" I growled.

"Yes, are you deaf, Spectre?" Farragut said disbelievingly.

Before I could do anything, Camilla walked up and threw a mean left hook right into the Captain's jaw. The captain gave a gasp of pain and dropped to his knees. Camilla moved forward, absolute murder in her eyes, and kicked him hard in the face as I had done to the other bridge officer, causing Farragut to flop onto his back in pain.

"Pendejo! You let them die! You let them all die!" Camilla shrieked. She started forward again but Cade ran up and grabbed her gently around the waist, holding her back.

Farragut sat up and massaged his jaw where a red imprint was rapidly forming. "Lieutenant-Commander Barthilus! I want this woman seized and detained!" he roared angrily.

Camilla strained against Cade's grip. "I saw them! I saw them all get turned, one by one! Anna, Mairo, Tom, Lucius! My friends! You could have saved them! You could have let them in! I'll fucking kill you!" Camilla sobbed.

She strained for a few more moments against Cade's arms but eventually her anger was subsumed by the pain of the loss of her friends. Slowly she relented and turned to Cade, burying her face in his armor and sobbing while he gently stroked her back.

Lieutenant-Commander Barthilus and the rest of the bridge crew looked down, avoiding the eyes of their Captain and making no effort to seize Camilla like he had ordered. Cade looked at me and I nodded towards him. He led her away and sat her down in one of the chairs, talking quietly to her while he gently rubbed her upper arms. We all respectfully waited as she tried to calm herself down. Eventually her sobs receded to quiet sniffles, although tears still left great, glistening tracks down her face. She rubbed her eyes and brushed her hair back.

"Farragut, if you say one more word I will kill you," I threatened him. "Lieutenant-Commander, have you made any attempt to repair our communications?"

Barthilus saluted and nodded. "We made several attempts but the jamming signal is unlike anything we've ever seen. It's old, probably dates back to the Reaper War, and as a result none of us know how to scrub it or bypass it. We're still trying though," he reported.

Camilla sniffled once more then looked up towards us. "I might be able to do something about that. Before I went to technical school for the Alliance my father had me work on old drive cores and tech that he scrounged up during the Reaper War. I used to tinker around with old jamming devices, give me some time and I might be able to cut through the interference."

"Excellent, get started at the communications terminal. Cade, guard her," I ordered my friend.

Cade nodded and followed Camilla to a nearby console on the side of the room. I looked around the rest of the Bridge. Its layout was mostly intact since the last time I had been here. A massive, domed viewport made of composite plastic ringed the entire room, with a number of terminals and seats situated underneath. The large holo-table still stood in the center of the room, and I could see that a rough barricade of sorts had been formed around it, giving us a defensible position to fall back to in the event that the door was breached.

"Lieutenant-Commander, is it possible to activate the self-destruct from the Bridge? We failed in our objective to retrieve the Prometheus Project Data, we need to make preparations to destroy the ship, to follow containment protocol and prevent these things from spreading," I asked Barthilus.

Barthilus shook his head. "We can't, we believe the drive core in the main engine room has been decoupled. We can't fly, move, or initiate the self-destruct sequence without it and we haven't been able to send someone down to fix it. We don't know who would have decoupled it in the first place."

I growled and briefly outlined what we had learned about the saboteurs in the secondary engine room and back at the data archives. Barthilus and the rest of the bridge crew listened with their eyes wide and mouths agape as I told them about the sabotage of the project from within, the cause of the outbreak, and the betrayal of Doctor Olivia Flanagan.

"Trust no one," I finished. "We don't know the extent of the saboteur presence aboard this ship, so in the meantime be on your guard."

Barthilus and the crew nodded soberly and exchanged uneasy glances with each other. Farragut scowled, his eyes shooting daggers at me, clearly chomping at the bit to insinuate that we were working in tandem with the saboteurs and that we were here to finish off the Bridge crew. Thankfully for him, he kept his mouth shut.

As much as I'd like to suspect Farragut, he just didn't seem the type. He was a prat, a self-concerned jackass who cared more about his ship, his skin, and his promotion than the lives of his crew, but that didn't make him a likely candidate as a saboteur. If anything, to be made the Captain of the SSV Hippocrates would have required such thorough vetting that it was highly doubtful that a saboteur could have been seeded directly into the command chair.

Just as Doctor Flanagan had not been part of the head scientists of the Prometheus Project, I suspected that the saboteurs had been seeded into the lower echelons.

"Lieutenant-Commander, have your men erect another barricade around the main door, but construct it so that it funnels those things directly into our field of fire," I ordered him.

"Sir," he acknowledged.

Just as he was about to wave a group of officers to the door, a low, rolling howl echoed in from beyond the doors.

I turned towards the source of the sound. In the murky darkness beyond the main doors, a menacing pair of red lights blinked into existence above a round, misshapen mass of blue light that shifted as the gaping maw that it emitted from snarled and undulated.

I could see the outlines of jagged metal teeth casting shadows from within and the smaller outlines of what had to be the original teeth of whatever species the Corpser had originally been. Another set of red orbs and a pulsing blue light appeared to the left of that one, and then another to its right, and then another, until it seemed as if the vestibule beyond the doors was just a mass of red and blue light.

A large krogan Corpser appeared in the gloom of the doorway, his massive green headplate slightly scrapping the door frame as it made its way inside. It stomped in and swung its head around the Bridge.

Huge metal spikes towered from its back hump and its shoulders, scratching deep gouges into the edges of the door as it entered. Its heavily-muscled synthetic arms flexing angrily, causing the long metal claws embedded in its forearm to shift. I swallowed and brought my Snakebite up to. It was much larger than the last krogan Corpser I had fought. There was no way in hell that my Stasis field would stop something that big.

My hesitation was all that it needed. The krogan Corpser charged forwards and rammed itself into the nearest bridge officer. The salarian screamed as it was impaled on the shoulder spikes.

I pulled the trigger on my Snakebite, sending a round directly into his headplate and causing it to stumble. I cursed as I saw that the headplate remained intact, albeit now with a large crack running through it. I pulled at the cooling lever on my Snakebite as the Corpser roared and backhanded another female bridge officer who had been too slow to get out its way, sending her flying headfirst into a console.

I fired off another shot directly into its headplate, cracking it completely in half. I could see thick, synthetic cabling snaking out of it. A rain of coagulated, thick red blood flew from it as it shook its head angrily back and forth. The howling and snarling intensified as several more Corpsers entered the room as we were preoccupied with the large ex-krogan and began running at the rest of the bridge crew. Captain Farragut ran to take shelter behind the holo-table as Lieutenant-Commander Barthilus and the rest of the armed bridge crew began firing at them.

Three resounding cracks thundered throughout the room. The krogan fell silent as all three punched through the weakened headplate and ruptured its head in a shower of bloody gore and sparks. Immediately a mass of Crawlers tore their way out of its bloated belly and began infecting the two bridge officers it had killed, reanimating the woman he had flung onto the console and the salarian still impaled on its shoulder.

Another trio of cracks echoed loudly as Cade fired Meera into the heads of the reanimated officers, tearing off the woman's just as she started to rise and ending the newly-minted salarian Corpser mid-howl, just as its mouth was ripping itself open. The third shot went into what used to be the brain of another Corpser, just as it was about to stab a hapless crew member.

"I'm out!" called Cade. He clipped Meera onto his back and pulled out his Vindicator. He sent a crackling Overload into the front ranks of the Corpsers, stunning a pair of them, before drilling four bursts into their twitching bodies. Behind him Camilla gave the Corpsers a frightened glance before returning her attention to the console.

I fired my Snakebite and killed two more Corpsers before its ammunition block also ran dry. Cursing, I clipped it onto my back and threw one of my remaining sticky grenades into their front ranks, incinerating one more Corpser and demolishing a mass of the small, spider-like Crawlers that were scuttling their way towards the bridge survivors. I switched to my M-3 Predator and felt that familiar tingle at the base of my skull where my amp was located. I was instantly wreathed in blue fire, ready to use my biotics on the synthetic horrors.

A few more bridge members fell to the immense onslaught but Barthilus managed to direct the remainder of armed survivors admirably. Individually none of them were great shots so he called out targets of opportunity, calling for the survivors to combine their fire on Corpsers who were getting too close to a stray crew member or on a pack of Crawlers who were too close to comfort.

Meanwhile Farragut watched from behind the holo-table, his hands clutching a pistol he had appropriated from one of the dead crew members, the one that I had happened to strip the ammunition block from. Under different circumstances I would have found it hilarious, would have pointed it out to Cade and Camilla and we would have had a jolly little laugh, but for now I was fighting for my life and for the lives of the surviving crew members.

"I did it! We have comms!" Camilla crowed in victory. Throwing her fist exuberantly into the air, she whooped and laughed brightly at her success.

"Great job!" Cade called out. He had stalwartly covered her throughout the duration of the firefight, protecting her as she worked to establish our communications. He and Camilla were almost back-to-back, her frantically typing on her console, sometimes pausing to type something on her omni-tool, while he fired his M-15 Vindicator at anything that seemed to be taking an interest in the preoccupied technician.

"Thanks!" she smiled. She quickly turned from the console and picked up her Geth Plasma Shotgun. Her omni-tool lit up as she lobbed an Incineration bolt into a group of Crawlers, then followed up with a volley of shots that burned gaping holes into the bodies of a pair of asari Corpsers, destroying them and the Crawlers within.

My comm. crackled to life and I could hear the voice of the flight helmsman of the SSV Excalibur filter its way patchily through. "Spectre Operative Cloud! This is Flight Lieutenant Fyordinarova! We've lost contact for hours, what's happening?" she asked urgently.

"Flight Lieutenant Fyordinarova—Val!" I shouted into my comms. set. "We're currently on the bridge of the SSV Hippocrates. Ship is fully compromised, we're under attack from crew members infected with some sort of virulent pathogen. We were unable to contain it. The ship is lost—I repeat, the ship is lost. Maintain minimum safe distance!" I barked at her.

"We read you Spectre, five by five. Standby for reinforcements!" Val radioed back.

I cocked my head in confusion. "Negative! Maintain minimum safe distance! Do not get close to the ship!" I yelled in frustration.

I stopped firing and looked out the domed viewport behind us. Off in the distance I could see the sleek white and blue silhouette of the SSV Excalibur flash by, as quick and agile as a minnow, and felt a bubble of hope spring up from within the depths of my chest.

I saw a bright flash as a number of inky black pods ejected themselves from the bottom of the ship, gentle blue mass effect fields erupting from a series of jets affixed to the pods and pushing them through the darkness of space. They propelled themselves towards the domed viewport of the Bridge and latched on to it. Even from within the Bridge I could feel the viewport vibrate as a series of bright-blue lasers emitted from the base of the pods, each one creating a circular incision into the viewport large enough to fit a man through.

There was a dull clatter as a dozen circular pieces of viewport tumbled to the ground, followed by a loud hiss as the pods sealed themselves tight against the remaining viewport, ensuring that the room was still completely pressurized and sealed. That slight ribbon of hope creeping up my chest blossomed into a bright, ball of happiness as I watched a dozen individuals in black, angular armor fall out of their pods onto the deck of the Bridge and start unleashing a torrential rain of gunfire upon the encroaching horde.

Each soldier had a full-faced helmet with a narrow visor where the eyes would be, much like my own helmet, except that theirs were colored bright red whereas mine was a dark, navy blue. I knew that they too displayed a state-of-the-art heads-up-display that monitored everything from temperature to humidity, pressure, toxins, element zero nodes and heartbeats, with the ability to cycle through settings such as thermal, infrared, night-time, and a dozen other functions.

Their armor was completely jet black, lacking the dark-blue trim that adorned parts of my own armor and possessing a more angular, straight-lined design that allowed them to blend in to the various ship environments that they often operated in. The only exception was a small white knight astride a white horse, holding a white lance couched forwards atop their left pauldrons. On the right I could see individual name tags, rank and blood-types.

And best of all yet, each of them were loaded down with a variety of weapons and grenades. I could see that each of the twelve had their signature N7 Silenced Hurricanes and M11 Suppressors—perfect weapons for boarding operations in locations with little room to maneuver—either in their hands or strapped to the small of their backs. A number of them carried N7 Valkyries and M7 Lancers, while a pair of them had M-23 Katana Shotguns. One of them, a hulking marine about seven feet in height with a half-naked non-regulation pin-up girl stenciled onto his breastplate even carried a massive M-76 Revenant.

The Alliance Jaegers had arrived.

They immediately paired off in teams of two and began coordinating fire into the oncoming horde of Corpsers, bringing down a dozen in the span of seconds and pushing back a dozen more. The large Jaeger, the one with the M-76, upon seeing the Crawlers tear their way through the fallen Corpsers' stomachs focused his fire on any of the Crawlers released by the deaths of their hosts at the hands of his fellow Jaegers. The large magazine and rapid firing rate of the M-76 Revenant making it highly effective at eradicating large numbers of the infectious Crawlers.

Beside him was a shorter, more wiry Jaeger with the words "Accer" crudely carved onto the right side of his helmet. In his hands he held a silenced N7 Hurricane which he used to fire short, concise ten-round bursts into the heads of nearby Corpsers, punching through any armor plating they might have grown around their heads and cracking what remained of their skulls and brains underneath.

My eyes grew wide as I saw the tell-tale flicker of biotics dance around his arms and neck. He threw out a hand, a translucent blue wave burst out and threw a trio of Corpsers onto the ground. He then fired on his incapacitated targets, felling them quickly and efficiently.

"Accer! Warp follow-up, left flank!" I roared. The black-clad Jaeger nodded and held his fire, waiting for me to prime our targets.

My amp sparked to life and I flicked my left hand towards a pack of Corpers on our left. A swirling blue vortex shot out and pulled them snarling off of their feet, mouths snapping open and shut as they screeched at the interruption of the hunt.

Immediately, faster than I could have done if I had attempted this maneuver on my own, the biotic Jaeger threw out a bright, shimmering Warp bolt that collided with my Singularity. The shifting mass effect fields interacted violently with each other and detonated, tearing the Corpsers and their Crawler occupants to bloody, mechanical shreds. I smiled at our handiwork and signaled to him again.

"Again! Warp follow-up, right flank!" I shouted to him.

My hand flicked forwards again, my amp twitching in slight protest at being forced to throw out two powerful Singularities in a row. It burned a little but I tampered down the pain. Either we ended this fight soon or we would be overrun.

The Corpsers that had been close to the left flank but not close enough to have been caught in our biotic explosion shifted ever so slightly to the center. As I had suspected, these were not mindless killing machines, but rather more like rabid animals—they had some semblance of a survivors instinct.

My left hand flicked forwards again, and this time a massive Singularity swirled into existence and hit the right flank of the Corpsers, ripping nearly a score of them off their feet. Faster than I could blink, a roiling, massive blue Warp came out hurtling out of the corner of my eye to slam loudly into my Singularity, detonating it even more violently than the last one, ripping great gouges into the deck of the Bridge and incinerating a few Corpsers that hadn't even been caught in my Singularity.

Our attempts successfully thinned their right flank and caused many of the surviving Corpsers to shift to the center. They were now densely packed, elbowing and tripping into each other as they continued their merciless charge right into our firing lane, snarling and howling, spittle flying from their nightmarish maws.

One of the Jaegers with a set of Captains bars on his armor and a fancier, bulkier helmet made a hand gesture. Immediately, half of the Jaegers ripped fragmentation grenades off of their armor and tossed them at the remaining Corpsers all bunched up in the center, tearing them and their Crawler parasites to bloody ribbons.

He waved his hand again and six of the Jaegers split off into teams of three. They sprinted to the main door, ignoring any wounded limbless Corpsers who snapped at their heels, and removed components for a mass-effect barrier from their armored backpacks.

As the other Jaegers covered them, they affixed the bars to either side of the main door and activated them. A wall of blue light erupted over the doors, effectively sealing them off. Although no more Corpsers remained outside of the Bridge, the portable barrier would be much more effective than any make-shift barricade we could cobble together on such short notice.

With the help the Jaegers, the surviving Bridge crew under the command of Lieutenant-Commander Barthilus finished off the last of the Corpsers. A silence fell over the Bridge as everyone took a moment to breath a collective sigh of relief at having survived.

The smell of burning heatsinks, rotted flesh, and biotic residue hung heavily on the air. I saw Camilla lean with one arm on Cade's shoulder, Cade having dropped to his knees with his rifle across his lap in exhaustion. Farragut finally rose up from where he had been hiding the entire fucking time behind the holo-table, eyes shifting nervously from wall-to-wall, relief etched on his face at having survived the entire ordeal unscathed. Barthilus was tending to an asari crew-member with a nasty gash down her arm.

"Flight Lieutenant Fyordinarova, you beautiful son of a bitch, thank you," I radioed back to the SSV Excalibur.

"You're welcome, Spectre. Maybe you'll buy me a drink next time we're on the Citadel?" my pilot chuckled.

"I'll buy you a whole damn bar, you really saved our asses there," I chuckled back.

"Does that mean you'll start calling me Val? Instead of Flight Lieutenant Fyordinarova?" Val asked hopefully over the now-clear communication channel.

"No, Flight Lieutenant Fyordinarova. We're currently taking care of casualties and consolidating our defensive position on the Bridge. Maintain minimum safe distance and standby for further orders," I shot back at her although the sarcastic tone was missing from my jab. Instead my tone betrayed just how happy I was that we had survived.

Val sighed heavily over the comms. "Roger that, Spectre. SSV Excalibur holding off, standing by for further orders."

A few meters away Cade met my eyes and chuckled softly before shaking his head and turning to whisper something in Camilla's ear. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but Camilla also turned her gaze towards me, her eyes sparkling with relief and humor, and laughed quietly. I flipped them both off good-humoredly, prompting both of them to laugh even louder, before making my way towards the men who had saved our lives.

I made my way over to where the commander of the Jaegers was busy directing his men to stack any intact Corpsers bodies off to the side. One of them—Accer I believe—turned his full-faced helmet towards me and nodded in my direction. I nodded back at him. Without the two of us working in tandem, the situation aboard the Bridge might have been completely fubar, a situation that not even Cade nor I might have survived. Our teamwork had undisputedly allowed us all to survive that hellish situation, creating the opportunity for the rest of the Jaegers to destroy all the attacking Corpsers and allowing them to seal off the Bridge.

Their commander saw me approaching and walked over to meet me halfway. He hooked his M7 Lancer to the back of his armor and unsealed his helmet, holding it in the crook of his arm and revealing a tanned, weathered face with a long scar over his right eyebrow.

He looked to be in his mid-to-late forties, which was somewhat unusual but not unheard of for a soldier with the rank of Captain. Either he had been held back due to incompetency or had opted to defer promotions in order to stay with his men. Judging from his performance during the attack, I suspected it was the latter.

His hair was black but slightly graying, and he had a rough, five-o-clock shadow and bright, grey eyes that looked like they had seen their fair share of shit. He was about six feet tall and from the looks of it quiet combat-fit. He held out a hand that I promptly shook. He had a strong, firm grip.

"Captain Elias Murgen, 7th Jaeger Battalion, Delta Company, Commanding Officer of 1st Platoon and Jaeger Team One, we didn't really get a chance to properly meet aboard the SSV Excalibur," he introduced himself.

"Spectre Operative Cloud, that one over there is Spectre Operative Cade Kitiarian. You really saved our asses here Captain," I thanked him.

Captain Murgen snorted dismissively. "Looks to me like you also saved our asses just as hard, I saw what you and Burton did."

He waved his hand and two of the Jaegers moved up to flank him. One of them was the biotic specialist that I had worked with, while the other was of medium height and build.

Murgen waved his hand at the shorter one. "This is First Lieutenant Johnathan Bradford, in command of Jaeger Team Two and second-in-command of my platoon."

Bradford removed his helmet, revealing a serious face with a standard-issue crew cut. He nodded respectfully at me before throwing me an unnecessary salute which I did him the honor of returning.

Murgen then waved his hand at the taller, wiry biotic. "This is Second Lieutenant Accerrimus Burton, our platoon's biotic specialist, currently attached to Jaeger Team Two. Likes to be called Accer, not that I blame him," he added wryly.

The biotic unsealed his helmet, revealing a youthful, boyish face that was half Asian and maybe half European. He stepped forward and grabbed my outstretched hand, shaking it vigorously while his thick eyebrows shot up as he regarded me curiously.

"That was some damn good biotic work you did there, I've never seen Singularities that fucking big!" he said enthusiastically.

"Thanks, you're not bad yourself. You had some damn good follow-ups," I returned appreciatively.

"Yeah, I specialize in Warps and Reaves, too bad Alliance standard L6x amps aren't rated for Singularities, not that I would know how to cast one even if I could. What are you using?" he craned his neck around me in an attempt to spot my amp.

Normally if anyone else had tried to invade my personal space, I would have told him to fuck off, either before or after I had elbowed them in their goddamn noses, but something about this young marine made me trust him and withhold my general tendencies. Either it was the fact that we had both worked together to save the lives of dozens of individuals, or the fact that his boyish face seemed incapable of guile or deceit, nonetheless I found myself instantly taking a liking to the young, enthusiastic biotic.

"L7x implants, top-of-the-line, you won't get them from any average Alliance Quartermaster, even if you're a Jaeger," I told him apologetically.

He whistled appreciatively, "Damn, that's nice. They gave me the choice between L6x's or L6n's when I signed up, but I figured the L6n's would get me killed since I'd be tempted to go charging right in every chance I got."

I chuckled. The L6n's were programmed for "Vanguard" skillsets. Biotic Charges, Novas, Shockwaves, they were all absolutely devastating in close quarters combat compared to the standard Warps and Reaves that a specialist with an L6x "Adept" skillset might possess. It would be like comparing a sledgehammer to a scalpel.

As devastating as the Vanguard skillset was, they required peerless discipline, ruthless training, and a high degree of skill to use effectively and not die. I've seen a few stupid rookies who, newly outfitted with L6n's and cocky as hell, decided to biotically charge right into enemy formations. Sure, they did immense physical damage, heck they might even get to throw a Nova explosion too, killing more bad guys. But afterwards, they would be surrounded, taking incoming fire from all sides, and then they'd inconveniently just die, leaving you a man down and up to your fucking ass cheeks in angry Vorcha.

Alliance Jaegers, also known as Joint Aerial, Extravehicular, and Ground Recovery Specialists, were a relatively recent addition to the Systems Alliance military, their formation dating back maybe two decades during the early aftermath of the Reaper War. Originally consisting of a ragtag platoon of specially-trained marines and veterans of the Reaper War, the effectiveness and reputation of the Jaegers in deep space anti-slavery and piracy operations led to their rapid growth and expansion.

In the aftermath of the Reaper War, not everyone was willing to play ball, to help refugees or survivors of devastating Reaper Invasions build new lives. In the wake of the void left by the Reapers, slavery flourished and usurped their place as the foremost galactic menace.

Displaced, homeless refugees were viewed as the ultimate resource for rebuilding destroyed infrastructure and ravaged colonies. Spearheaded by surviving Batarian Slavers and perpetuated by desperate colonial and industrial groups, slaves of every race and species were kidnapped from surviving colonies and refugee camps and shipped off to rebuild shattered cities.

While never occurring outright on main planetary hubs such as Palaven, Thessia, or even Khar'shan, many of the fringe colonies, especially batarian ones, on far-flung planets such as Bahak, Aratoht, or Erzsbat had large populations of slaves. Refugees would either be snatched directly from their beds by bold slavers, or would be drawn by promises of work and safe refuge, only to arrive at such locations and discover that they were to be forced into indentured servitude.

In 2188, some furious Alliance Commander had decided that enough was enough. She pulled together a bunch of Reaper War veterans who shared her views – N7's, corsairs, marines, even ex-cops and mercenaries — and shipped them straight to Mars. For nine months, they trained to board derelict Batarian Cruisers, old Salarian Spy Corvettes, decommissioned Turian Hierarchy Naval Vessels, even old Systems Alliance Warships, not to mention every conceivable type of merchant and civilian ship that could be possibly retrofitted for slaver use.

After six months of brutal training, with a casualty rate that was rumored to be nearly 10% and multiple spacing accidents, the newly-christened Jaegers boarded a ship and flew around the Sol System. In the first year, in the Sol system alone, they boarded a staggering total of 48 slaver ships, nearly a ship a week. They saved an estimated 6,000 slaves, were responsible for the deaths and incarcerations of approximately 800 slavers, and were hailed by the Systems Alliance and the galaxy at large as heroes. A platoon of determined soldiers flying around in a battered-old stealth frigate did all that.

The Commander got a promotion and was bumped to Admiral. She was then told to expand the program and within a year a whole battalion of Jaegers were produced, the majority of them pulled from the Alliance Military. Some of them were N7's, with most of them sporting an Interplanetary Combatives Training Designation of at least N3, and more than a few were standard rank-and-file alliance marines or ex-law enforcement.

No matter what branches they came from, all of them were subjected to the same ruthless training, all of them drilled to board not only every kind of ship in existence, but also buildings and shuttles and even ocean-faring ships, and not only in vacuum but also in free-fall and on the ground, hence their moniker. Once that first battalion was produced, rumor has it that the Alliance admiral quietly retired. New Jaegers were soon trained by veteran Jaegers and soon a new generation of heroes rose to bring order to a turbulent galaxy.

The casualty rate of the Jaegers was extremely high at first with many of them being either spaced or lost when slaver ships chose to self-destruct rather than surrender their live cargo, but they quickly almost single-handedly destroyed slavery in Systems Alliance territory within the first half-decade of their conception, saving hundreds of thousands of slaves.

Soon they were called upon to assist in key asari, turian, salarian and even krogan systems. They eradicated slavery in much of council space, bringing law and order to a post-Reaper War galaxy that was fraught with those who preyed upon the weak. In light of their immense success, a new insertion method was developed by a group of salarian engineers specifically for the Jaegers dangerous method of entry.

Although the technical name eludes me, they were colloquially known as "Grab pods". These single-occupant pods each contained a single Jaeger soldier. They could be released from ships and either manually or remotely piloted to anywhere on the target ship. Generally they would attach to either the Bridge or the hangars, or anywhere where the armor or hull was thinnest.

Mass effect fields would both drive the pods to their target location and keep the pods in place as powerful element-zero lasers carved a hole in their hull. The pods would then seal tightly to the make-shift entry points, ensuring that the entry point remained pressurized, and the Jaeger would enter from there, weapon out and ready to sabotage, secure, or neutralize targets of opportunity. The pods could be programmed to attach to multiple points, allowing Jaegers to breach simultaneously from multiple locations, or they could attach all in roughly the same spot and suddenly the enemy had a team of highly trained soldiers breathing down their necks.

This greatly reduced the primary cause of casualty that Jaegers suffered , which was to be spaced during insertion, and dramatically increased their effectiveness. Within a decade of their conception, a battalion was posted in almost every major system, stationed in platoons aboard a flotilla of ships specifically designed to carry Jaegers in and out of any high-risk recovery missions. The SSV Excalibur was one of these ships.

Slavery soon ceased becoming a major problem, with its practice limited to die-hard batarian fanatics, and even they would soon be eradicated as the Slaver Fringe Wars culminated in 2201 with the battle of Bahak, the ill-fated battle that had earned Percival his fame and made the Jaegers even more of a legend.

While slavery was still practiced, it was no longer widespread, and the Jaegers gradually expanded their operations to include hostage-rescue, counter-terrorism, and even peacekeeping missions. While every Jaeger was still forged in the brutal training regime that the original Alliance admiral had designed, they were now considered to be the premier fighting force that the galaxy had to offer, a bright standard of everything that was good that the galaxy at large could rally behind, moreso than the galaxy could with the shadowy salarian Special Tasks Group or the reclusive Spectres.

Rumor has it that the Turian Hierarchy, the Krogan Federation, and even the Quarian and Geth Consortium were currently negotiating with Systems Alliance High Command, looking to cross-train, share equipment and tactics, and even get their own soldiers accepted into the ranks of the Jaegers. The Salarian Union and Asari Republics would also frequently request Jaeger assistance in their own systems, and in an act of goodwill the Systems Alliance chose to do so free of charge and even allowed co-opted Jaeger platoons to be temporarily folded into asari and salarian command structures for the duration of their service to better facilitate military cohesion.

This greatly enhanced interspecies cooperation, reduced xenophobia, and promoted galactic trust and unity. Out of the rubble of the Reaper War and amidst the lawlessness that followed that terrible time came this one, shining example of what the people of this galaxy could achieve if we all chose to help each other.

Accer sighed ruefully. "You know, even if I found someone willing to sell an L7x, I probably wouldn't be able to afford it anyways. The Systems Alliance pays shit, and has even shittier hazard pay. I can barely even afford my apartment right now," he joked.

I chuckled and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "We get out of this mess alive, and I'll buy you an L7x," I promised.

His eyebrows shot up, "I didn't know Spectres were paid so well."

I chuckled again. "We're not at all, but thankfully the bad guys are, if you catch my drift."

He laughed, then moved back to assist his fellow Jaegers in reinforcing the Bridge and cleaning up the bodies.

My comms. set fizzled on and I jolted to full alertness when I saw that I was getting hailed by Percival.

"Cloud! You guys on the Bridge? We heard gunfire!" he cried.

I jammed down hard on my comms. set's transmit trigger, "Percival, Cade and I are currently on the Bridge, we've linked up with a bunch of fellow survivors and managed to re-establish communications with the SSV Excalibur," I told him. "It is damn good to hear your voice, mate."

"Is that slaps?" Cade called out. I nodded, prompting Cade to break out in a wide grin, then turned my attention back to Percival.

"We've received reinforcements from the SSV Excalibur, two Jaeger teams under the command of Captain Murgen jumped ship and directly inserted into the Bridge, we're currently locking it down."

"Roger that, we're about 50 meters away. The Bridge was sealed when we got there so I decided to hold up in a nearby security armory and wait for you to arrive. Picked up a couple of security personnel, maintenance technicians and a few scientists hiding in a closet too, also Sergeant Mardinus and the marines are green," Percival assured me.

I closed my eyes in relief and rubbed my brow with my gloved hand, trying to hide how pleased I was at not only finding out that all my marines were alive but that Percival had also succeeded where I had failed, saving several maintenance technicians and some scientists.

"That is damn good to hear. Be advised, we were unable to complete our objective. Saboteurs intercepted and acquired the Prometheus Project Data and we were unable to pursue. Consider them skilled and highly dangerous," I confessed quietly.

A few moments of silence on the other end. "Roger that, it's okay man, we'll find them. How's Sarah?"

It was the question that I had been fearing. My finger hovered over the transmit trigger for a second before I moved it away, choosing instead to rub my jaw and let out a sigh. My hand drifted from my jaw to the pocket on my utility belt which I had stored the photo she had given me of her and her family. I squeezed my eyes shut and took a moment to compose myself for a few seconds before keying my comms. set reluctantly.

"Doctor Messner is KIA," I reported.

Percival stayed silent for almost a full minute. I kept my eyes fixed on an arbitrary spot on the wall as I waited for him to respond. Just when I thought that maybe he had lost connection, my comms. set lit up again.

"Not your fault," he assured me.

"I know."

Percival sighed over the comm. "Alright, we're about 25 meters out. I'll see you guys soon."

"Roger that. And Percival?"

"yeah?"

"Bring some goddamn food."