.
A voice calls me forth
Through darkness unknown
My heart with silence burns
Through solemnness and bone
The edge beyond thе shore
This weight of root and rot
I long to reach thе other
To find
To find the path we lost
Am I raindrops in the flood?
In this emptiness
In the storm
If I'm broken
If I'm torn
The wave inside my soul carries all I know
Who can take my hand in the flood?
In the Flood – Horizon Forbidden West OST
Chapter 24 ~ To keep a promise
Utukku greeted us without ceremony, but with a dry, chilly air and a handful of empty prefabs instead. It wasn't exactly encouraging either that most of the prefabs showed signs of battle. Overturned equipment. Bullet holes. Dried puddles of orange blood. To top it, there was no sign of the krogans, neither dead nor alive.
I stepped out of the last building, squinting at the glaring sunlight that refused to warm me.
"Anything?" Liara's soft, melodious voice floated over from the building across and I shook my head.
My gaze dropped. Sand and dust covered the rocky ground, exposing a dozen criss-crossing trails of footsteps. Some of them led down the steep slope at the edge of the camp. I walked over and looked down. An overturned prefab lay at the bottom of the cliff among chunks of debris, perhaps thirty meters below our current position. The edge of the cliff looked raw and unweathered by the harsh sandstorms that constantly raged across Utukku's surface.
"There's been a cave-in. Recently," I said, signaling Liara and EDI over. I nodded at the trail. "That's probably where the scouts went."
"Is it save to climb down?" The asari asked.
I shrugged and put a careful boot on the slope. "Let's find out."
Some fifteen minutes we finally found the first of the scouts.
"Broken neck," EDI deducted, releasing the krogan's head with an unexpected gentleness. "Considering usual decay rate and Utukku's climate, time of death was between 60 and 65 hours GST ago."
"Went down with the building." What an insulting way to die for a warrior.
"Yes." The synthetic got up from her crouch and stepped out of the overturned prefab.
"It doesn't bode well that the other scouts left him just like that," Liara added.
No, it didn't at all. I turned, following another set of footsteps. The trail stopped some twenty paces ahead of us. At a shadowed crevice leading into the heart of the mountain.
"I have a bad feeling about this." I eyed the ominous cleft. Cobwebs shifted in the draft. Cobwebs. Spirits. I took a deep breath. Alright then. One of those days straight ahead.
I stepped forward and froze. A faint, scratching noise came out of the dark.
"Did you hear that?" Liara asked.
"Affirmative," I replied softly and cocked my Mattock rifle.
The scratches turned into a low snarl. Something stirred in the shadow of the mountain's entrance.
I squinted through my visor and a single varren emerged from the crevice. The unusually blue-stripped beast stopped to test the air, its huge dark eyes fixed on me.
"Wait," I said slowly, lowering the rifle. "It's… Urz?"
At that the varren trotted over to snuffle at my combat boots. Then he sat down on his haunches, looking at me expectantly.
I retreated a step. "Uhh, I'm not Shepard, you disease-ridden moron."
Urz didn't care about my opinion. He yelped and waggled his tongue; just in case I hadn't gotten his memo.
"I assume using the Commander's facilities might have left enough of a scent trail on you," EDI offered.
"Yeah, thanks for pointing that out, EDI."
Next to me the asari was biting her lower lip in a poorly executed attempt to mask her amusement. Urz yelped again, this time adding an almost pitiful whine.
What can I say, I was helplessly outsmarted. "Alright. Liara, do you have some of those energy bars with you?"
"Sure." She rummaged in the waist bag hanging down her left hip and handed me a small package.
I unwrapped the energy bar and tossed the sticky thing towards the varren. Urz snapped it midair, bit down twice and swallowed, all while producing happy little noises.
"So… you want to talk about your friend, Garrus?" Liara asked, this time not even bothering to hide her grin behind a white gloved hand.
I snorted. "Introduced pubescent krogan to Camp Urdnot. Made noise, butted some heads, Shepard took in another misfit. Misfit insisted on following her around until we had to leave. End of story. Rings a bell, doesn't it?"
Liara chuckled. "Indeed. But why is he here?"
"I guess he attached himself to Grunt as the next best thing. Didn't you?" I turned to Urz, who had stopped lolling on the ground to prick up.
"Grunt?" I repeated and to my surprise, the varren actually yelped again, then stood up and trotted back towards the very very uninviting hole in the mountain.
"Of course," I muttered under my breath. "Never anywhere nice…"
I really should have demanded hazard pay.
"Commander Vakarian," EDI spoke up. "I used the time to scan the area. These mountains emit an unusual strong magnetic field. Once inside deep enough, and I won't be able to uphold a reliable uplink to the Normandy."
Not good. "I understand. But can you even operate offline?"
"To a degree, yes. This platform houses enough processing power to let me hold on to my core programming. I can still assist you in a fight and execute a wide range of basic routines. However, since I'm lacking many of my databases, I won't be able to support you with refined analyzes and situational assessments."
"So, no jokes?"
She shook her head. "No. But I won't shoot you in the back either. I will still be me, just… less."
If I hadn't known better… but then the AI had already developed so far, why shouldn't she have gained a veritable concept of fear for her existence, even if it was just afflicting a small extension of herself.
"Don't worry, EDI. We got this."
The AI just nodded.
~V~
My boots thumbed on the ancient paving over the staccato of gunfire around and that oh-so terrible rumble in the ground below. I pushed away the lurking sensation of old dread and kept running. It was easy. There were lots and lots of other horrors to enrich my nightmares these days. Yay, me.
I jumped over a salarian body covered in their version of desert camo, narrowly avoiding the puddle of green spreading out from under him. What a waste. He really should have known better than trying to keep Mordin Solus from entering the facility that stretched to the pre-dusky sky to my right; the building's ominous green haze lighting up the dim clouds.
"Mordin, status!" I barked into the radio.
Static answered. Great. Without EDI and her AI power to counter the jamming signal, radio contact was sketchy at best.
I skittered on loose gravel and ducked with my Wraith shotgun behind a chunk of worked stone to hide from the blood-curdling drone of imminent death. I had recently stopped dreaming about that one either. Red flashed. A stream of molten metal vaporized the salarian and parts of the rubble around him. I blinked off the greenish afterimage. Nothing but a big hole in the ground.
Oh boy. This sucked. Using the shroud was a single point of failure. We knew it, STG knew it, and apparently so did the Reapers.
Gloved fingers gripping the shotgun, I dashed from my cover, counting. I had about ten seconds before the next shot and 50 meters to cover. QED. Quite easily done. My Wraith bucked and screamed in the face of a batarian husk. I kept dashing along the rubble-strewn pathway. On instinct, I spared a glance up at the towering black monstrosity, then dodged a huge robo leg that slammed into the pathway next to me with an ear-splitting wham. Uh-huh. May-be more like quite easily dead. At least this close the Reaper couldn't target me with its beam without hitting itself. Gods, and this was only a small one, nothing in comparison to the Sovereign's enormous size.
Somewhere to my left I heard Wrex bellowing orders. Then they drowned out in the booming fire of heavy guns and the turian fighter squadron thundering overhead. I skirted the leg and downed a turian husk with another shot from the Wraith. There were at least half a dozen Brutes pounding at Wrex and his ground forces. This. This plan was pandemonium and me smack in the middle of it.
Impressive, check. Needless? Eh, probably debatable. Then again, we were trying to lure a maw into killing a Reaper, so… Garrus would have had kittens.
The ground rumbled again. Kalros. The Mother of all Maws was close. Just not close enough. My eyes darted to the ruinous arena-like structure ahead. C'mon Vega… That's ancient krogan tech. How difficult can it be to hit one big-ass button, for fuck's sake?
Precious seconds passed. Husks closed in on me. Another shot, another evaded leg. I felt like trapped in a terrible slow-mo.
Until a low hum finally vibrated through the bedrock below, radiating from the old arena to send out its luring call.
And Kalros answered.
Finally. I dashed for the dubious safety of the ruins. The pathway heaved under my feet. The earth groaned. To my right, the statue of a krogan warrior collapsed, burying a batarian husk. I jerked sideways, barely escaping the debris. The Reaper Destroyer emitted its terrible drone of death. Kalros screeched her challenge. I sprinted up the wide stairs of the arena, while behind me the battle of the ancients raged.
A stray beam of red sheared through the arena's skeletonized tower. The earth quaked. My boots lost contact. I curled into a ball to cushion my fall. The edge of the hewn stairs slammed into my shoulder. Then my thigh. I groaned, pain icing up my spine, stealing my breath. Gasping, I blinked against my blurred vision, staring at the sickly yellow-brown sky. Staring at the ancient stones suddenly eclipsing the hazy setting sun.
Wait. What?
In panic I reached out for my biotics, a hot jolt of adrenaline searing along my nerves.
No!
Yet despite my protests the remains of the tower closed in on me, ironically silent against the earth-shattering backdrop of organic vs machine.
Nononono.
I couldn't die…
I had promised.
~V~
I stared at the trail of dark fluid in weary resignation. I already knew too well what was waiting at its end. I gave in with a sigh and followed the trail with my Mattock's flashlight until I found the krogan. Or more precisely, what was left of him. Redundant organs unfortunately made for a damn lot of entrails to feed on and the big body was hardly more than a hollowed shell with limbs attached.
I slowly turned around, scanning the area. The wide, but low-ceilinged tunnel had only two visible exits, the cleft we came through and one oddly smooth opening just beyond the dead krogan. Like in the handful of passage Urz lead us through before, an odd lichen grew on the rocks, casting the tunnel in a faint, greenish light. Just enough to get around without stumbling. Too little to dispel the deep pockets of shadows that could be hiding anything. I swung the flashlight to an especially ominous blotch to my right. No life signs for my visor to pick up on.
Yet.
I took a careful breath, another wave of nausea hitting. The stench in here was staggering. And it wasn't coming off the corpse. No. It was wafting over from the hole behind the krogan. Right. And why would every other whiff tickle my memory, anyway?
Behind me the asari gagged. I gnashed my teeth. Even Urz seemed reluctant to get too close, pacing back and forth between the krogan corpse and the exit with a low whine. And it was getting warmer. And disconcertingly humid. At least we had EDI, who was thankfully unaffected. On a physical level at least.
Damn. I should have insisted on going to Tuchanka instead.
"I advise to proceed," EDI said into the silence. I knew it was mostly my imagination, but her voice sounded flat. We had left the Normandy's tight-beam range two chambers ago, and the AI's vocal communication had ebbed to a minimum. We truly were on our own now.
"You're ready, Liara?" I asked, absently patting Urz's head.
"Let's just get over with it, okay? Quickly."
I walked over to the mauled krogan corpse. Steeling myself I crouched. A bustle of tiny black insects scuttled from the bright cone of my flashlight which hovered over the yellow-striped composite of metal and carbon. I holstered the Mattock and grabbed the aptly named Firestorm, yanking against the grip of dead fingers. Reluctant to part with his weapon even now. Warrior in life, warrior in death, I suppose.
I straightened, M-451 in hand, and stared into the dark maw.
Or maybe not so dark.
A baleful bluish light, I hadn't noticed before, spilled out from behind an angle in the dark passage that sloped down unexpectedly. So, either this was another bioluminescent lichen or… something else entirely.
Only one way to find out.
Right?
.~'*'~.
Carefully I edged along the path, wincing at the crunch followed by a ominously squidging sound below my boots. Indeed, we had found the source of the awful stench right at the bottom of the short drop. The ground of the adjacent chamber was covered with smashed things that, thanks to the warm humidity, had probably started to rot immediately.
Whatever it was, it was also emitting the bluish glow. Or so I thought; the cavern was huge and flashlights or not, there was just not enough light to make much sense of our surroundings, even for my turian, above-than-average night vision.
"Liara?" I turned to the dark, asari-shaped figure. "It might be a stupid idea, but can you light this place up a bit?"
In reply a small orb bloomed in her palm, flickering in its familiar violet-blue hue. The biotic sphere grew and rose above us. To reveal carnage. Well, at least we could be certain that the scouts had come through here indeed. With havoc and fire.
"Are those... eggs?" Liara asked slowly.
I squinted at something that looked suspiciously like a brown shell. And all of a sudden the climatic conditions made perfect sense. "Damn it. It's a breeding ground." I nudged the big piece of shell with my boot. Whole, the egg must have been twice the size of my head. "Jeff is going to have a seizure. For some reason he is obsessed that alien eggs will be the death of us all."
"I object," EDI spoke up. "Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau is neither prone to epilepsy nor cardiovascular diseases."
I suppressed a sigh. "Just a figure of speech, EDI."
"I see. Thank you for clarification," the synthetic's reply was stoic. "Returning to scan." She sidestepped another shell and advanced up a curved slope, leading deeper into the cavern.
I stared at the broken eggs. No, the bluish glow wasn't coming from them or the dead things inside. It was the liquid dripping out of smashed… cables. Black cables wounding through them almost like growth. Or the sinister tendrils of an invading species. Bad feeling? Right. This was so far beyond bad feeling, it wasn't even in the same universe anymore.
"Commander Vakarian," EDI stated from the ledge. "Anormal tech signature detected."
I shared a grave look with the asari. Reaper tech.
We jogged up the slope, Liara's biotic sphere hovering above us. Suddenly the asari hissed and grabbed my arm, pointing her flashlight at the far edge and a clutch that had escaped the destruction.
"Garrus, look..." Her voice was soft. "Those… I think those are rachni eggs."
Rachni eggs, sitting surrounded by Reaper tech.
I exhaled, long and slowly; realizing that even after all those years I was still surprised how fast things could turn from bad to total shitstorm. I hefted the M-451, stepped up and unleashed the fire with grim determination. A soft pop and then the eggs shriveled under the assault. A low, yet terrible whine rose. I winced and kept up the flames, cauterizing the abomination inside. Leave it to the krogan to pack the right kind of guns indeed.
The silence after was deafening.
"Better to be dead than this," I simply said, feeling the asari's stare on me.
She sighed, and came no further.
Gunfire erupted in the distance.
.~'*'~.
We raced through the labyrinth of caverns, following the noise of combat. Finally, a wide opening gaped, the chamber behind lit up by a myriad of greenish lichen.
I skittered to a halt before I tumbled over the steep cliff before me, my visor's sensors flashing alive. 15 meters below at the bottom of the gorge, a group of krogans drenched in orange blood and black smears were fighting for their lives, their backs to the wall; literally. Two down, seven up. All swarmed by countless tech-enhanced perversions of chitinous bodies, segmented legs and sharp claws that were barely kept at bay by shotgun and blood rage.
"FOR ARALAKH!" A familiar figure roared and clubbed his shotgun into the nearest enemy. Urz howled and dashed off along the edge, hunting for a way down.
I dropped the M-451 and whipped up my assault rifle. Another krogan fell to a shearing, tentacle-like claw. Revulsion and ugly memories hit me in the gut. My Mattock hammered through a bloated, flesh-colored sack, the shredder rounds eating their way through the remainder of organic tissue. Spirits. The Reapers were an endless factory of nightmares, each worse than the last.
"No! They're getting slaughtered!" Liara high voice pierced through the roar of battle, then she unleashed a singularity into the midst of the sea of mutated insects.
And underneath the harsh biotic light, pandemonium erupted. Screeches rose as the creatures closest to the Singularity were ripped off their spidery legs and got sucked into the disintegrating maelstrom. Claws; fervently digging into soil. Bulky bodies pushing forward, desperately seeking an escape. Pincers yanking at their brethren. Screeches; pitching higher and higher. In panic.
In fear.
I swallowed the bile rising in my throat and kept shooting. The creatures that clearly used to be rachni stood no chance. Whatever was within the event horizon's merciless grip was as good as dead. At my side the asari, hunched over, taking deep breaths. Despite what everybody liked to believe, upholding a controlled Singularity was the equivalent of a 500 meter sprint. In full gear.
The leader of the krogan company hurled away from the enemy's disarray and looked up at us.
His youthful face twisted into a toothy grimace. Well, probably a grin. "Turian! Hah! Glad nobody killed you so far!"
"Good to see you too!" I stooped down and tossed him the Firestorm. "Let's finish this up!"
Grunt caught the heavy weapon, gave me a crooked salute, and jumped into the fray. With renewed vigor his soldiers followed. I picked my target. Then the next, working my way through the Reapers' grotesque army. From up here it was… what was the term Shepard used? Ah, like shooting fish in a barrel. Horrible fish of horror.
"Commander Vakarian, I detect no more hostile entities within our immediate vicinity," EDI finally said.
I lowered the Mattock and exhaled. The rachni hordes on Noveria had already been a haunting horror, but this? I suppressed a shiver. Blasted Reapers.
Down at the gorge the krogan were using the respite for an inventory check. Urz had found a way down and was sitting on his haunches next to Grunt. I scanned the steep wall. We had to get moving. Now. Corrupted or not, the rachni would simply keep coming and coming. They always did.
"EDI," I turned to the synthetic. "Can you get me a short-range radio to the scouts?"
"Of course. Scanning." The AI paused. "Done. I have set our frequency to the corresponding krogan signal."
I opened the channel. "Grunt? Do you copy?"
The krogan gave me thumbs up, his deep voice rumbling in my ear. "Yes. Right on time, Vakarian, but more are coming."
"That's what I thought. You're good down there?"
"One dead. One too injured too–" Grunt stopped, one of his scouts releasing the hand of the krogan sitting against the wall. Grim-faced the scout straightened, serrated knife in his grip. "Two dead. Fucking bugs. Aralakh!" He bellowed. "We move out!"
I eyed the sea of broken carapace, spidery legs, entrails, and blood. Not in a thousand years. "I think we try to meet you ahead."
"Good. Just follow the tunnel downwards." Grunt chuckled, pushing past the first smashed bodies. "And if you got lost… The more enemies, the more you're heading in the right direction."
Right. Krogan wisdom and all. I shook my head and moved along the edge of the gorge. "Any ideas what is going on here? I mean other than the Reapers trying really hard to give us even more nightmares."
"Not much. But they must have a very active breeder. We have to find and kill that thing at all costs. I got a signal; right before the ambush. Durak squad believes they found the route to the central chamber." The radio fell silent. "I have not heard from them since… Damn... They might have tried to get in as food."
"You mean on foot, right?" The asari injected.
"No."
I winced. "Ah, how many of your scouts are left?"
"Too few. Us. And three other squads, more or less complete." He mumbled something in his native language my translator wouldn't quite catch. "Yeah, yeah. And Urdnot Jaarl and his krantt. Don't worry, turian. We'll get the job done."
I sidestepped the carcass of some small, probably native animal. "Mhmm, feel like sharing how we're supposed to do that?"
"Like we always did. With fire."
I ducked through a low overhang, finding myself in another vast chamber. The tunnel to the left maybe? "Honestly, this place is a maze, I'm not sure if a few Firestorms will do the trick."
"Heh. That's why we brought the Napalm."
"And the nukes!" I heard a second, muffled voice pitch in. "If necessary, we'll bring the whole stupid-ass mountain down!"
"That's right, Kregg. So you see, turian, we made good use of the time we've been here. Booby-trapped a large part of the cave system."
Hazard pay. Definitive.
The asari behind me took an audible breath. "We should probably go through an in-depth radiation check once we're back at the Normandy."
I nodded. If we got back.
We finally rendezvoused with Grunt and his remaining scouts two chambers later. They were a gruesome mess. No wonder the stench had triggered my memory. Whatever organic remnants the bugs still possessed; they did indeed smell of Rachni.
"So," Grunt rumbled, while we headed towards the last know position of Durak squad. "Where's the Battlemaster?"
"On Tuchanka, helping Wrex. I'll give you the details once we're on our way out." No need to distract them with those kind of news.
Grunt nodded. "Let's hurry then. The nest must be ahead. Dagg and Rel with me! The rest, check the charges closest to the target area and keep any Rachni off our backs!"
We jogged after the krogan and into a narrow tunnel, wounding deeper into the mountains. Three turns later the tunnel widened into a bulging chamber; the only visible exit blocked by distinctly curved and ominously seamless black metal plating. The smooth matte surface seemed to swallow whatever light the pulsating bluish stripes, powering their tech, gave off.
The ground before the doorway was splattered in way too much orange blood.
"Damn. Guess we know now what happened to Durak squad…" I mumbled.
Grunt growled, picking up an equally bloodied, canvas-covered bundle. "Looks like we gotta blast our way through that thing. Dagg!"
"No, wait!" I injected. "Maybe there's a less conspicuous option. EDI, can you hack into the door's system somehow?"
"Apologies," the AI replied. "I have no access to my full cyber warfare routines. Connecting to that advanced technology in specific has a high probability to compromise this platform instead."
"How high?"
"100 percent."
The krogan snorted.
"However…" The AI holstered her Carnifex and stalked over to the pulsating blockage. Rigid she just stood there; one minute, two. Just as Grunt was about to object, EDI bent to the right and ripped the housing off a round node which until now had looked like part of the thick stalagmite that stretched towards the ceiling. She brought up her omnitool, pointing it at the now glowing node. A pulse of blue lighting jumped forward, overloading the tech with a faint buzz. EDI slipped her hand into the eye of the now dark orb, yanking out a fistful of cables. The synthetic pondered the wires for another moment and with a quick flick of her numerous dexterous fingers selected some that went back into the orb.
The obstacle slid down with a hiss – and a trilling, blood-freezing, screech echoed through the tunnel behind us.
"Go!" Grunt bellowed, shoving the canvas bag at me. "We draw them off. You get the explosives as close to the breeder as possible." He brought up his omni-tool, punching in commands. Mine chirped in reply. "There. That's the trigger frequency. Activate it, and you got five minutes to save your bony asses."
I shifted the bag. "That's probably not enough fire power."
"True. But it will keep them busy and signal my men to blow up the real deal. So, you better run fast, turian." He gave me a nod and turned. "ARALAKH! Let's squish some bugs!"
Followed by Liara and EDI, I stepped into the opening the Reaper tech had revealed. The tunnel was dark and narrow. Very dark and very narrow. I suppressed the urge to flick on my flashlight. Instead my hand brushed along the rough and disturbingly sticky walls. Something softly tore against my face and stuck there. A hiss escaped my throat. I rubbed my face against the hard surface of my armored forearm. No. This was indeed better left unseen.
Carefully, we kept on creeping down the slope. Downwards. Ever downwards. My visor told me it's been mere minutes, but it felt like eternity. Finally another dim pool of light emerged and beckoned us with a way out. My steps hastened. I held my breath and slipped into a rugged cavern, lit-up by a mix of lichen, pale webbing and Reaper tech. Slowly, I looked around, my visor picking up at least thirty biosignatures. One of the mutated rachni turned. Eerie, pitch-black eyes watched and… ignored us. Huh?
I ducked behind a jagged rock, contemplating our options.
"Garrus…" Liara suddenly whispered at my side and pointed. Her voice was hoarse. "It's the Queen."
I peeked over the rock and stared at a huge, yet grotesquely majestic alien that towered at the center of the cavern. "Of course it would be a queen, what else –"
"No, not a queen… the Queen…"
I paused. The creature's shell shimmered in a kaleidoscope of deep brown, purple and green, while shackled with the lower half of its body into some hellish Reaper contraption. And for some reason I felt a pulse of recognition.
"Indeed. And she has grown… Wait!" I hissed and grabbed for the Asari's arm, but she sidestepped my reach and marched out of our cover and towards the huge insect.
Right. I followed, hard grip on my Mattock, trying to keep track of the rachni around us. Two meters away from the Queen and at the end of a long smear of orange, another krogan had collapsed against a stalagmite, his dead hands still clasped around another brown canvas bag. Close enough. Did he manage to… Ah, probably not.
Suddenly the corpse shuddered. Fingers squeezed the bag. Clouded eyes snapped open and stared sightless at us. Limp lips parted; the voice that came out a dry, raspy hiss.
"Help… Please… We… hurt…"
The Queen opened her ragged beak, the formerly pointed tip broken off. She tried to shift, yet the black Reaper tech – tubes, spikes, hooks, clamps – that got drilled into her chitinous body, constrained the movement to a weak tremble.
Unpopular opinion: The rachni DO feel pain. I shuddered, refusing to imagine how many eggs had already gone through the contraption while she's been here. Because I realized now what it was: a machine that would infest and dispense each and every egg the Queen's body produced in her constantly triggered fight for survival.
Nobody deserved such a fate. Not even the rachni.
"Goddess… How…"
The krogan corpse twitched, dead gaze fastening on the Asari. Then on me. "You… Yes… We recognize… the notes of your song… You saved us from the great silence... Released us into the ice…"
"Yes. But what happened?" Liara asked, turning towards the queen. "On Noveria you promised to leave. To stay away from civilization. To keep the peace..."
"We did… Did burrow… did hide… There was harmony... Beautiful children… Peace… The machines still came…"
Of course they did. Spirits, this was nasty.
"Through the stars they heard our song... To take us… To take the children… Twist them with the sour note, so they no longer recognize the song… Now the children only know pain and silence… They die… alone… in fear…"
The asari rubbed her face. "Garrus, we have to do something…"
"Damn it, Vakarian!" Grunt's voice boomed over the radio, noise of battle spilling in. "What are you waiting for? Set that bloody bomb off! My men are slaughtered! We have to leave NOW!"
Liara whirled around and I saw the painful truth within the depth of her cerulean eyes. "There is not enough time to release the Queen!"
"RELEASE?" Grunt yelled. "Are you out of your fucking mind, asari?!"
Chaos erupted. Over the radio. Here. The drones farthest from the Queen exploded into motion and scuttled off. The rest trembled, yet stayed. Liara yelled back.
I need someone I can trust to make the right choices.
Blood rushed in my ears as the bitter irony set in. Oh, I knew exactly what Shepard would have done. But then, she believed in the zero point seven three percent from the bottom of her heart, and I was just a disillusioned vigilante who had buried too many friends already.
A humming filled my hearing, replacing the remote staccato of gunfire. The Queen tilted her head at me, her broken beak clicking without a sound. And then from the hum, a sliver of something reached out and touched my soul. I stiffened and a strange, unfathomable tune coated my mind. Threads of a million songs; spinning, evolving into sensations clearer than any spoken word.
Pain. Grief.
I staggered under the force of anguish. The sensations shifted.
Understanding.
I squeezed my eyes shut. And yet, somehow the Queen had known my decision even before I did.
Acceptance.
I'm so sorry.
I simply couldn't let the rest of Aralakh die. Not here, not like this. The krogan would never forgive me. Wrex would never forgive me. Maybe Shepard would have gotten away with it, but she wasn't here.
I opened my eyes, looking at the shackled Queen. "I cannot save you," I whispered, the sting burning in my chest like the acid they spit. "I'm not like her…"
I can't keep this promise…
The Queen's tune shifted one last time, one last brush over my awareness before she retreated.
Forgiveness.
I tossed the canvas bag at the foot of the evil contraption, my fingers bringing up my omni-tool. I bowed my head.
And then I ran.
~V~
I gasped for air.
Or rather tried to. I got a lungful of dust instead, turning the gasp into a painful cough, while I frantically tried to force my body into stillness lest the debris collapsed on me in full.
Oh yeah. What was it with Tuchanka always trying to bury me alive?
Finally, my cough ebbed and turned into a groan. Somewhere in the distance Kalros' muffled scream rose anew, followed by a tremor rippling through the ground. Another layer of grit and dust drizzled down. I held my breath, my pulse hammering in my ears.
Bad day. This was a bad bad day.
Slowly I blinked my burning eyes open. From the dark, a slit of light stared back at me. My barrier must have held long enough to create this tiny pocket of air, wedging the debris together just so. I wiggled first my fingers, then my toes in my boots. My left arm felt stuck. I dared not to move, but at least my limbs seemed like they were still attached. Okay. I could work with that. Something wet crawled steadily over my forehead and down my temple. I ignored it and listened for the battle outside. It had grown suspiciously silent. Well, except for a low, booming thunder.
Instead, the small comm unit in my ear clicked alive softly. And let in mayhem.
An explosion roared. Ah, no thunder then. A clipped shout followed. "Shepard?"
Mordin. Thank God. The screeching sound of metal on metal hurt my eardrums.
"Damn it. What's happening?" I croaked; my throat still covered in dust.
"STG tampering severely compromised the ground insertion unit," Mordin said; the connection disrupted by faint crackles. "Among other things."
"Meaning?"
"The shroud is falling apart. Had to get to the top to dispense the cure via emergency release."
"But… What of plan B?! We agreed on it for… for problems like that!"
"Too protracted. Depending on too many variables. Worthless in case neither Wrex nor Eve survive."
I paused, feeling the bitter certainty sinking in. "It never really was an option for you, wasn't it?"
"No. Rate of success ultimately too slim to be considered in earnest. Apologize for deception." Another explosion boomed. Silence. Then, "Situation here is… critical. Unlikely to come back."
"Mordin! Don't you dare!" But who was I kidding? I was about to get smothered by 10 tons of rocks.
"Shepard. Please. Have to set this right. My work, my cure, my responsibility."
No… "Mordin… I'm so sorry..."
"I'm not. Life most fulfilling. Final assignment saving an entire species. Much more than could have ever ask for." He took a breath. "Have to proceed release now. If you can, please, remind Wrex of his promise. And don't worry, you'll do well, Shepard."
And with that he started humming a wordless tune.
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. I squeezed my eyes shut, fighting for words. Fighting the terrible sting.
"We'll miss you..." I whispered. "Good-"
His hum was swallowed by static.
I wanted to scream but my throat constricted as I tumbled through a burning sense of vertigo.
This was not fair.
Mordin sacrificed his life, and I was trapped down here like a useless joke, doing NOTHING. I couldn't call EDI. Hell, I couldn't even radio James or Wrex because the only channel I had open was a one-on-one to a dead man and I didn't dare to move my fucking hands to switch the fucking channel!
I stared at the slit of light. Slowly, oh so slowly, my brain cleared, the pain and rage retreating to some familiar place in the depths of my mind.
Outside the light was dimming. Just like my chances to get out of this alive. Debris or not, twilight was so not a good time to be on Tuchanka's surface sporting a bleeding head wound. Maybe I would survive the night. Maybe not. I had absolutely no inclination to find out.
Carefully, I wiggled my right arm, the reinforced armor plates scraping over rough stone. Tiny pieces pebbled down. I swallowed hard and kept dragging my arm towards my torso and the pocket of air above me.
James was certainly looking for me. Wrex probably as well.
They just needed to know where.
After an eternity my fingers brushed my thigh. Flexed them briefly around the grip of my Stiletto, just to assure myself that the pistol was still with me. Slowly I lifted my hand towards the opening in the debris.
I focused inside. Tiny electric shocks razing against my nerve endings. A small biotic sphere peeled off my fingertips, its blue-violet flicker illuminating my surroundings with a cold harsh glow.
You'll do well, Shepard.
Yah. Let's see about that.
I willed the sphere forward and towards the rapidly vanishing light.
~V~
"Commander Vakarian?"
I climbed out of the Kodiak last, just to find the Normandy's comm specialist hovering in the Hangar, a datapad clutched in her hands.
"Do you have a minute to spare?"
Still covered in dirt, cobwebs and rachni entrails, I gave the decontamination chamber a wistful glance. "Traynor. Sure, what is it?"
No wonder Shepard usually returned from those urgent debriefs with a look that could have withered rocks.
Samantha Traynor let go of her breath. "There is something…" The dark-haired human bit her lip. "A message…" Curiously, the comm specialist's cheeks flashed red. "Anyway," she quickly added. "It came in just a few hours ago for the Commander. Shepard, I mean. It was send to an anonymous extranet accounts of hers, flagged as private, but… I think this might be too important to ignore."
So, the comm specialist was flustered about looking into Shepard's personal communication and having to tell me about it? Sometimes humans' code of conduct made no sense at all. But yeah, what do I know? Before embarking on the SR-1 my closest dealings with humans consisted of pointing them towards Arenya and Non-council Races Affairs. And Shepard was, well… Shepard.
I shrugged. As if there was any privacy with EDI aboard. "It's your job after all. So what did you find? Another suspicious turian frigate?"
That was probably uncalled for, but from the corner of my eye I'd watched Liara stepping out of the decontamination chamber, her white armor once more reasonably pristine, while I got the distinct impression that some nasty concoction of intestinal contents and acidic slime was trying really hard to work its way inside my collar. The asari smirked at me and bolted off. Traitor.
"Well, not exactly." Traynor held out a datapad.
I leaned forward. It was in trade tongue. Huh. Some long neglected, hard-wired instincts kicked in. Nobody actually bothered to write messages in trade tongue. Not with audio messages and high quality text-translation available virtually everywhere instantly. Except… except if you wanted to ensure that no word got lost by translation. Or conceal the language of origin. I took the datapad and straightened, my inner C-Sec officer intrigued.
I struggled with the unfamiliar glyphs, mouthing the words and trying to "hear" them in my head.
"My friend,
I'm writing this message aware that my growing apprehension might be nothing but the byproduct of my progressing indisposition. However, in face of my suspicions, I would rather prefer to err on the side of caution.
The memory of our last shared moment is as present to me as my own thoughts. I still deeply regret that my condition forced me to leave; a haunting inadequacy that keeps nagging at me – regardless that from what I gathered none could have followed where you went in the end. So I left like the others, trading your company for the putrid smell that is so typical for this corrupted place of Disconnection. There, just outside the airlock we said our goodbyes, but you, you would not have had any of it. I saw it in your eyes. Heard it in your voice. Even then you did not doubt my usefulness – for which I am grateful. You asked, no, required me to keep my senses sharp.
So I did.
I hope you can forgive me the circumspection, but I do not dare to commit my thoughts to the official channels. Maybe it merely is the paranoia of my trade. But again, I rather err on the side of caution.
My intel as well as certain recent events suggests that a former employer of ours is shifting an unusual amount of assets and attention towards the widow. To what end, I can only fathom. But I suspect there is more to it than the war – this much my instincts tell me.
Worse, I sense that time is running short. They have some plan in motion and I can only pray that the message will reach you in time.
Treat the widow with extreme caution and good hunting, my friend.
"The message came from some Tannor Nuara. Ever heard that name?"
I shook my head, handing her the datapad back. But there was only one person I knew who would use words like apprehension and circumspection in an actual sentence.
"No. But I'm fairly sure it's Thane Krios."
She stared at the pad and if possible her face turned even redder.
I rubbed the ridge between my eyes. Of course. Why, Tali, thanks again for launching this ridiculous bet with Donnelly and thus feeding that rumor to the Crew.
Traynor cleared her throat. "Uhm, well, by itself the warning's authenticity and urgency might be highly debatable, but there was also a heavily encrypted, Spectre encoded message from Councilor Valern asking for an immediate meeting in person and that–"
"Traynor."
"- according to EDI there is a statistical probability that begs me–"
"Traynor."
"Yes?"
"Good catch."
The human woman blinked. "Thank you." Then she gave me a once over and a lopsided grimace. "I'll… uh… leave you to your decontamination. Just let me know when you're ready for debrief."
I nodded absently, my thoughts already racing through our options. Funny how fast personal discomfort could turn into no more than some superficial buzz.
Traynor had erred in her assessment of the messages, but then she didn't have the doubtful honor of knowing the Council in person. Despite Sparatus' constant mockery, it was actually Valern who was last to believe in the Sovereign threat – namely when, to quote Shepard, 'he watched from the Destiny's front row seat how a gigantic robo squid was humping their precious Citadel Tower' – and the first to opt for the Reaper's remains to vanish inside the Archives. Which made the assassin's waring the far more urgent and reliable message.
Especially in context of Cerberus.
I hurried into the decontamination chamber.
It was high time to pay the Widow a long overdue visit.
Guess you're out of luck, Massani. Turns out something odd is cooking on the Citadel, too.