Chapter Twenty-Nine: Ragnarok
"Become who you are."
Velpia paced back and forth in her cramped quarters aboard the Turian ship, her mind a whirlwind of rage and confusion. Martin had been taken into custody not long ago, dragged away in chains like some common criminal. What truly gnawed at her was the scene that had played out earlier—the kiss. Martin and Athria, right in front of her, locking lips as if she didn't even exist. She clenched her fists, the memory stinging like an open wound.
How could he? After everything, he had just... thrown it all away.. Velpia felt betrayed, and it burned deep in her chest. She had stuck by him, tolerated his recklessness, and even tried to steer him in a direction that made sense. And now, he'd chosen Athria over her, not realizing—or caring—how she had tried to keep them both safe. She felt stupid for even thinking about bargaining for his life with the Artifact. She remembered how she would even offer to leave the Turian military if it meant that he was spared.
The intercom in her quarters buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts. "Lieutenant," the cold, metallic voice of the ship's VI announced, "Colonel Dexicolus requests your presence."
Velpia sighed, straightening her posture. She had to keep herself composed. She wasn't about to let anyone—least of all the Colonel—see how rattled she was. "On my way," she replied, her voice steady, though her mind was anything but.
As she made her way to the holding area, the rage inside her simmered, threatening to boil over. By the time she reached the designated section of the ship, her face was a perfect mask of calm, though beneath the surface, she was seething. She approached Colonel Dexicolus, standing just outside a holding cell—a repurposed recreational area cleared out specifically to hold Martin. The room was spartan, stripped, and bare; Velpia immediately knew what this place was for.
She stepped up to the one-way window, peering inside. There, chained to the ceiling, arms bound and dangling above his head, was Martin. His feet barely touched the floor. He wasn't even resisting; his expression was grim, but he remained stoic. Though the torture hadn't started, Velpia knew it was only a matter of time before the Colonel had his way with him.
"Impressive, isn't it?" Galtus said, his tone casual as if they were discussing the weather. "I wanted to congratulate you on a job well done, Lieutenant." He turned to her, studying her face, waiting several moments to judge her. "Do you have any objections to what's about to happen?"
Velpia's heart pounded in her chest. For a brief moment, she thought about telling him to stop. Even after everything, Martin didn't deserve this. He may have betrayed her, but the thought of him enduring what was about to happen made her feel... conflicted. But then, the image of him and Athria, kissing in front of her like she didn't matter, flashed in her mind. The feeling of being used like a plaything swirled in her chest.
She clenched her teeth, the fury returning in full force. "No," she said coldly, her voice devoid of emotion. "No objections." She glanced at Martin through the window, her heart hardening. "In fact, I'd be happy to shoot him myself."
The Colonel's mandibles twitched, his version of a smile forming on his face. "I like your spirit," he said, nodding approvingly. "Humans are defiant, I'll give them that. They're persistent, but they need to learn their place."
"Once we're done with him, I'll hand his body over to the Systems Alliance as a reminder to stay out of our affairs. A little warning to mind their place."
Velpia's mind reeled at his words. It had already been unsettling enough when he threatened to destroy the Quarian ship, but now he was talking about provoking the entire Systems Alliance? It felt like too much. She didn't agree with his plan, not entirely, but she kept her mouth shut. This wasn't the time to argue.
Galtus turned to her, his tone changing slightly, almost as if he were proud of her. "You should be proud of what you've accomplished here. Your citizen status will be approved within the hour. You've earned your place."
Velpia forced a nod, her stomach twisting. She returned the Colonel's salute, her body moving on autopilot. "Thank you, sir."
With a satisfied smile, Colonel Galtus turned on his heel, PDA in hand, and walked into the holding cell, the door closing behind him with a soft hiss. Velpia stood there, her heart pounding in her ears as she watched him prepare to do what he did best. She felt hollow, like a part of herself had been stripped away in that moment. And yet, she stayed silent, her rage at Martin—her betrayal—blinding her to what was about to unfold. She decided it was best just to walk away.
''''''''''''''
Martin's arms throbbed from the strain of being suspended by the chains, his muscles burning with the effort to keep himself upright. He shifted his weight, trying to find a position that would relieve some of the pressure, but the cold metal cuffs around his wrists offered no respite. The room was eerily quiet, save for the occasional hum of the ship's engines. He breathed in slowly, trying to control his heartbeat.
The door slid open with a soft hiss, and Galtus stepped inside. The tall Turian moved with a casual confidence, his steps slow and deliberate as he approached Martin. The door closed behind him, sealing them inside the makeshift cell. The Colonel held a PDA in his hand, its soft glow illuminating his sharp features. For a moment, he didn't even acknowledge Martin's presence, his eyes fixed on the screen as if the man chained before him was of little importance.
Martin watched him in silence, his irritation growing by the second. The waiting, the anticipation—it was always the worst part. But he didn't let it show. Instead, he studied the Colonel, reading the situation, preparing himself for what would come. He wasn't naïve; he knew what this was. It wasn't going to be a simple interrogation. This was going to hurt.
After what felt like an eternity, the Colonel finally looked up from his PDA, his mandibles twitching into what passed for a smile. There was a smugness in his eyes, the kind of superiority that Turians often wore like a second skin. Martin hated it.
"Ah, I see you're still with us," the Colonel began, his voice laced with a false warmth. "I couldn't help but wonder if you were feeling... what do humans call it? Ah, yes. Déjà vu?"
Martin remained silent, his jaw clenched. He had no intention of giving this bastard the satisfaction of a response. Not yet. Let him play his games.
The Colonel took a few steps closer, still keeping a deliberate distance between them as if savoring the moment. He looked back down at his PDA, scrolling through it leisurely as if reading something of mild interest. "You know, I've been doing some research on you, Martin. Quite the colorful history you have. Articles, stories, Extranet posts about you; you humans love a good tragedy... it's all very fascinating." He glanced up, his eyes gleaming with mock pity. "It's a shame you ended up like this. But I believe it fits the genre."
Martin's lips tightened, but he held his tongue. The Colonel's words dripped with insincerity, and he wasn't about to fall into whatever trap was being laid.
The Colonel tilted his head slightly, studying Martin's face as if expecting a reaction. When none came, he let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm glad you're here. You see, not only am I about to get justice for the deaths of my men at your hands—" He paused, watching Martin's expression shift slightly at the mention of it, "—but I also have the pleasure of destroying Cerberus trash like you. It's a rare treat."
At the mention of Cerberus, Martin's eyes flickered with a brief flash of anger, his face hardening. The Colonel noticed, and his smile widened.
"Ah, there it is," Galtus continued, pacing slowly now, his voice low and venomous. "Cerberus. The gift that keeps on giving. You're probably wondering how we got here, right? How all these pieces fell into place?" He stopped, standing directly in front of Martin now, his voice dropping even lower, almost conspiratorial. "I'll tell you. It was me. I was the one who tracked down Williams, made him an offer he couldn't refuse. It was a simple deal— I gave him the resources he needed to cause chaos on Omega and the Citadel to come after you, to kill you. And I had the opportunity to let the rest all into place. It was a win-win for me, really. Not to mention having Velpia push you along when needed."
Martin's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles turning white as he fought the urge to lash out. His muscles tensed, the anger burning hotter now, but he forced himself to stay silent. Let him talk.
Galtus noticed the change in Martin's posture, the simmering fury beneath the surface, and it only seemed to amuse him more. "Oh, don't worry, Martin. Williams was an idiot. I knew he wouldn't succeed, but he served his purpose. Have one human take out the other, then remove the loose end. Divide and conquer."
Martin kept his gaze locked on the Colonel, his breath steady despite the fire burning inside him. He wouldn't give this bastard the satisfaction of seeing him break.
The Colonel leaned in closer, his voice barely above a whisper now. "You know, I came across a rather interesting article about you. It described, in great detail, the... experience you had back on Earth. With the Separatists." He watched Martin's face closely, waiting for a reaction. "The torture. The pain. It was quite the read."
For the first time, Martin's expression faltered, if only for a second. The memories of that time—the screaming, the agony, the hopelessness—flashed through his mind like a lightning strike. He could almost hear their voices again, feel the cold steel knives biting into his skin, the lashes, the waterboarding, the salt poured into his open wounds, the seething hot prods.
"I think," the Colonel continued, his voice smooth and unfeeling, "that I might have to reenact it. Just to see if the article was accurate."
Martin's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding together as he forced himself to breathe through the rising tide of anger and fear. He knew what was coming. He'd known it the moment they'd taken him into custody. But that didn't make it any easier. The human body could only endure so much, and Martin had pushed his limits more times than he could count, but that experience... that was beyond what he could face again. He knew this death was coming.
A part of him had come to accept that this was how it would end. After everything he'd been through, all the pain, the struggle to stay alive—it was almost darkly humorous how it all came full circle. He'd fought so hard, survived so much, and now... now it was going to end in a dingy room on an Alien ship in space. He could laugh at the notion of his hubris. To think he could defeat fate..
The thought made him smirk, though it was a bitter, hollow expression. He'd outlived his usefulness. The galaxy didn't need Martin Winters anymore. Maybe it never did. But maybe, just maybe, that was okay.
But there was still a small, stubborn flicker of hope inside him. A part of him that refused to let go, that clung to the idea that maybe, just maybe, Athria would come for him. Dig him out of this mess. It was unlikely, and he knew it. Why would she? She had all her life ahead of her; she belonged to the stars, and he belonged to the dirt. But the thought was there, and it kept him from fully surrendering to despair. The hope of salvation.
Still, he found a strange comfort in the idea of the end. He was tired. Tired of running, tired of fighting, tired of the endless cycle of violence and death. Maybe this was his way out. Maybe this was the peace he'd been searching for.
As he hung there, his body aching from the strain, his mind wandered back to the people he'd known, the lives he'd touched—some for the better, most... not so much. He thought of Velpia, of the moments they'd shared, the camaraderie that had once been there. She'd turned on him, but there had been a time when they were on the same side, close. And Athria... well, she was the closest thing he had to a friend now. And that kiss—a final act of defiance, sure was the closest good thing he had at the moment, superficial as it was.
But none of that mattered anymore. Not here. Not now.
The Colonel was still watching him, waiting for a response, but Martin gave him nothing. He kept his gaze steady, his face impassive. If this was how it ended, then he'd go out on his own terms. No fear. No begging. Just silence.Nothing but defiance.
"Nothing to say?" Galtus asked, his mandibles twitching in amusement. "I expected more from you, human. But no matter. You'll be screaming soon enough."
Martin held his tongue, refusing to give the Colonel the satisfaction of a response. He'd been through worse. He'd survived worse. And even if this was the end, he wouldn't give this bastard the pleasure of seeing him break.
The Colonel turned away, his smile widening as he began to prepare for what was to come. Martin watched him, yet despite everything, he couldn't help but feel a strange sense of calm.
Maybe this was how it ended. Maybe this was how it was always meant to end. Maybe this was his punishment for being where he wasn't supposed to be. The universe's way of dealing with pests like him.
And yet, somewhere deep inside him, his soul screamed with all its might. He needed-wanted to fight; he wanted to choose how he ended his crazy train. It will be on his terms.Defiance at any cost.
"""""""""""""
Athria's heart pounded in her chest as she ran through the alleyways, her breaths coming in ragged gasps. Her mind was racing, consumed by panic. How the hell had everything gone so wrong so quickly? Every step she took seemed to echo the mistakes, the failures, the loss. Martin had been captured. Rinn was likely dead. The artifact was gone. It was all unraveling, and she had no idea how to fix it.
She wanted to save Martin, to do something, anything, to get him out of Turian custody. But as she sprinted back toward the ship, she knew deep down that she didn't have the manpower, the firepower, or even a plan to pull it off. She was alone now. Her crew was fractured, divided, and she had no idea who she could trust anymore.
When the ship finally came into view, she let out a breath of relief. Thank the goddess, it was still in one piece. If Velpia had decided to take the ship and leave her stranded... no, she couldn't think about that right now. She had to focus. She had to regroup. There had to be something she could do.
She raced up the loading ramp and into the ship, her eyes immediately scanning the area. The interior was quiet—too quiet. She made her way to the bridge, her boots thudding against the metal floor, her mind still spinning with possibilities. But as she reached the cockpit, her heart sank.
Dez was taped—no,restrained—to her pilot's chair. Thick strips of tape held her wrists to the armrests, and more wrapped around her chest and legs, securing her tightly to the seat. Her mouth was gagged, but the moment she saw Athria, muffled curses started pouring out.
"Shit," Athria muttered under her breath, rushing forward to rip the tape from Dez's face. As soon as the gag was removed, Dez's voice exploded in the small cockpit.
"Youleftme with Velpia!" she screamed, her face red with fury. "What the hell were you thinking? I told you she was a liability! I told you she couldn't be trusted, but no,Martinhad to bring her along! This is all his dumb idea! And now look where we are! Where the hell is he? I'm gonna beat his ass the moment he steps foot on this ship! Get me out of here, Athria! Where is that fucking idiot?"
Athria's hands trembled as she worked to peel away the tape, trying to free Dez, but her friend's anger was deafening. She barely processed the words, her own panic still boiling beneath the surface. But as Dez's eyes darted behind her, searching for Martin, the tirade stopped. The silence that followed was thick and heavy. Dez's expression shifted, the anger fading as realization set in.
"Athria?" Dez's voice was quieter now, more cautious. "Where's Martin? And... where's Rinn?"
Athria couldn't meet her eyes. Her fingers slowed, almost fumbling with the last strip of tape. She swallowed hard, her throat dry. The weight of everything they had just lost crushed down on her, and she felt the sting of tears she refused to let fall.
"They took him," Athria said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. "The Turians... they took Martin. And Rinn... Rinn didn't make it. She's... she's probably dead."
The words felt like lead in her mouth, heavy and final. For a moment, Dez didn't say anything. She stared at Athria, her expression unreadable as she processed the news. Then, slowly, the sadness crept into her features. Dez turned away, her jaw clenching tightly as she closed her eyes.
Athria could see the hurt in her friend's face, even though Dez was trying to hide it. Martin might've been an idiot sometimes, but they had all been through too much together to brush off his loss easily. Dez's hands tightened into fists as the sadness shifted to something else—something darker.
Without a word, Dez reached for the controls, her movements stiff and deliberate. Athria blinked, suddenly realizing what was happening.
"What are you doing?" Athria asked, stepping forward, her hand hovering over Dez's arm.
Dez didn't answer at first. She flipped a few switches, and the ship's systems hummed to life. The engines began to whir, vibrating the floor beneath them. Dez's jaw was set, her eyes cold and focused on the controls in front of her.
"Dez," Athria said more forcefully, "What are you doing?"
Dez's voice came out low, seething with anger. "I'm going to make those Turian bastardspayfor what they did to Rinn."
The ship lurched as it lifted off the ground, the thrusters pushing them into the air. Athria's heart skipped a beat. Dez was serious. She was really about to attack the Turians—alone. "Dez, stop!" Athria shouted, grabbing her by the arm. "We can't just charge in there! We don't have the firepower, and they'll kill Martin the moment we show up!"
Dez's grip tightened on the controls, her knuckles turning white as she struggled with the decision. She was angry, furious even, but she knew Athria was right. Charging in guns blazing would only get them all killed. After a tense moment, Dez slammed her fist against the console, letting out a frustrated growl. "Dammit!" she spat, her eyes burning with barely contained rage. "They're just going to kill him! We can't just sit here and do nothing!" Athria took a breath, trying to calm her own nerves. She understood Dez's anger—she felt it, too. But they couldn't lose control. Not now. They needed a plan.
"We'll make them pay," Athria said, her voice steady. "But we need to be smart about it. We need a plan, not a suicide mission." Dez didn't respond at first, her chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Slowly, she leaned back in her chair, the anger still simmering beneath the surface but restrained. She stared out the viewport, her eyes fixed on the distant horizon.
After a long silence, Athria spoke again. "Find the Quarian ship."
Dez blinked, turning to her. "What?"
"The Quarian ship," Athria repeated. "If we can find them, maybe they'll help us. They might want some revenge. And they might have the resources we need to get Martin back." Dez hesitated, then nodded slowly. She reached for the console again, her fingers moving over the navigation system as she began scanning for any Quarian vessels in the area. Athria let out a breath, her mind already racing with possibilities. They didn't have much, but it was a start.
As the ship's scanners searched for the Quarian vessel, Athria allowed herself a moment to close her eyes, to focus. She was exhausted, both physically and mentally. The weight of the past few hours overwhelmed her, and she could feel the cracks in her usually calm exterior starting to show.
But there was no time to rest. Not yet. Defiance was on the menu.