Chapter Nineteen: Aisling
"Darkness there, and nothing more."
Martin's legs felt like they were made of lead. Each step was a battle against the weight of the rest of his body. Velpia and Rinn flanked him, their arms hooked under his, practically dragging him down the alley, trying not to draw any attention. They had already wiped the blood off his face, although it was more smeared than cleared. As they continued, the sounds of the arcade faded into the background, replaced by the sounds of his boots against the pavement and the ragged breaths that escaped his body. Every inch of him screamed in protest, the adrenaline that had fueled his fight with the krogan now long gone. Leaving only a hollow ache in his wake. His vision blurred as he stumbled, but Velpia's firm grip kept him upright. Her voice was a steady murmur of reassurance that he barely registered. All he could focus on was the promise of rest in the skycar ahead, a brief refuge from the chaos, where he could finally let the darkness creeping at the edges of his mind take hold.
They reached the skycar, and Rinn carefully let go to open the car door, and together, she and Velpia eased Martin into the backseat. His body slumped against the cool leather across the backseat, a mix of relief and pain crossing his features as he let himself sink into the seat. The world outside spun in his peripheral vision, and he fought to keep his eyes open, but the pull of sleep was too strong. He could hear Velpia's sharp and focused voice as she took the pilot's seat, the hum of the engine coming to life under her skilled hands. Rinn settled in the back seat, forcing him to lay his head on her lap. Her presence was a calming anchor in the turbulent haze of his mind. The skycar lifted off the ground, and Martin felt a momentary weightlessness as they ascended, the city lights blurring into streaks of color through the windows. His thoughts drifted, torn between the recent violence and the comforting embrace of unconsciousness that beckoned him closer with each passing second.
Velpia glanced back at Martin through the rearview as the skycar ascended, her brow furrowed with worry. His breathing slowed, and his eyes were closed, the tension in his body finally releasing as he succumbed to the exhaustion. She could still see the faint smudges of blood on his face, a reminder of that brutal fight he had just endured. Who in their right mind would take on a Krogan head-on like that? She asked herself. Why didn't he just shoot it? Rinn's arm was gently draped over Martin's chest, her own gaze fixed on the battered man in her lap, concern etched in her body language. The silence in the car was heavy, broken only by the soft hum of the engine, the distant murmur of the city below, and the sound of Martin twitching in the back, trying to get comfortable.
Velpia turned forward towards the controls. Her mind wondered if she was at fault for this. If she hadn't convinced him to stop at the arcade just to play with his emotions, would they have even met with the Krogan? As Velpia's mind spiraled with guilt and second-guessing, she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. The cityscape below blurred into a sea of lights and shadowy alleyways as the skycar glided through the air. She navigated the bustling air traffic with practiced ease, but her thoughts and eyes drifted back to Martin. His reckless bravery had been both impressive and terrifying, a reminder of the lengths he was willing to go to protect them, even at his own expense. But had she pushed him too far? Had her manipulation, however small, played a role in putting him in harm's way?
Rinn shifted gently, breaking the silence with a soft sigh, "He'll be okay," she said, her voice reassuring in the dark cabin. Velpia glanced back, catching the Quarian's eyes through the faint glow of her helmet, not trusting herself to speak. The skycar dipped slightly as Velpia adjusted their course, heading toward a secluded part of the ward where they could lay low. She stole another glance at Martin, who was now completely unconscious, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The sight brought a mixture of relief and anxiety—he was alive, but for how much longer if they kept encountering dangers like this? Velpia's jaw tightened. They needed a plan, something more than just reacting to the next threat that came their way.
Velpia's thoughts were interrupted by the sudden white ping of her omni-tool as she quickly glanced down. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, her mind still wrestling with the guilt. She glanced back at Rinn, who had also looked up at the sudden noise. She couldn't afford to ignore the call. As she accepted the call, Athria's face appeared in front of her.
"Velpia, what's going on? Why isn't Martin responding? He was supposed to check in thirty minutes ago!" Athria demanded. Velpia swallowed, trying to keep her voice calm. "We ran into some trouble. Mercs, or someone, spotted us near the arcade. Martin took a hit, but we're in the skycar now. He's out cold."
Athria's eyes narrowed as she took a moment to process. "What kind of trouble, and are you saying he was shot?" Velpia shook her head hard, "No, it was a Krogan," Velpia said, trying to set the record straight as quickly as she could. "It went south fast. We didn't have much of a choice, Martin; he just engaged before we could come up with another plan."
Athria's expression hardened, and her voice took on a harsher tone, "And you let him?" Rinn saw Velpia's grip on the armrest tighten; she knew the two didn't care for one another, and this was going to be yet another argument between the two.
"I didn't exactly have the time or chance to stop him. The Krogan was coming right at us, and Martin just acted. He handled it, but it wasn't clean."
"Wasn't clean?" Athria echoed, "You two were supposed just to bait the Mercs. You were supposed to keep everything under control!" Velpia's frustration flared, but she kept her voice level. "What did you expect me to do? Tackle him before he fist-fought the Krogan? We're lucky we got out of there at all!"
"Goddess, this was a stupid Idea," Athria sighed audibly. "Change of plans. Bring him back here. We need to make sure he isn't actually dying. I'll prep the med-bay." Before Velpia could respond, Athria cut off the call. The orange glow of the omni-tool faded, leaving the cabin in a tense silence once more. "Well, She's not happy," Velpia muttered under her breath, more to herself than Rinn. The Quarian's helmet tilted slightly. Her voice was soft but firm. "She's worried," Rinn replied quietly.
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Athria waited outside the ship with the workers coming and going through the dock, waiting for the skycar to land. This situation was unpleasant for her and the mission. They needed Martin for this, they couldn't do this without him. He was supposed to be a combat and tactical expert, but now he could be injured and delay the mission. And the more they delayed, the less chance they had of actually making it there or just surviving to be able to make it.
She paced uncomfortably outside the ship as the skycar landed. Athria's breath caught in her throat as she swung open the skycar door. Her eyes immediately landed on Martin, sprawled across the backseat, unconscious, his head resting on Rinn's lap. The sight of him like this—so vulnerable, so battered—sent a surge of anger and fear through her. The blood smeared across his face as he just lay there unmoving.
Her gaze snapped to Velpia, who was just climbing out of the pilot's seat. "What the hell were you thinking?" Athria's voice was sharp, cutting through the tension in the air. "You were supposed to keep each other safe, not whatever this is!" Velpia met her glare with a defensive stare of her own, her jaw tightening. "I didn't exactly have a say in what happened!"
"You should have stuck to the plan. Whose idea was it to stop by an arcade?" Athria shot back, her frustration boiling over. "Who thought that was a good idea?" Athria saw Velpia suspiciously pause as if trying to hide something. "It was your idea, wasn't it?" Athria condemned.
"Enough!" Rinn's voice loudly cut through their argument. Her voice's metal reflection cut through their fight like a sword through butter. "We can argue about this later. Right now, we need to get Martin to the med-bay. He needs help, not more fighting." Athria bit back her next retort, more out of surprise at Rinn's yelling. Her eyes flicked back to Martin. She exhaled sharply, nodding as the tension drained from her shoulders. "Let's get him inside."
A few hours had passed since they managed to carry Martin into the small basic med-bay and placed him on the table. It was a struggle for all four of them to get him onto the ship, let alone the bed. Athria ended up resorting to using her biotics for assistance.
Athria exhaled slowly as she finished the last of her scans, her omni-tool casting a dim orange glow over Martin's still form. The cramped med-bay was quiet, save for the soft beeps of the equipment monitoring his vitals. She straightened up, her eyes lingering on Martin's bruised and battered body before turning to face Rinn and Dez, who were standing nearby, their expressions tense with concern.
"Good news is, he's not in any immediate danger," Athria began. Her tone was professional, but she had a layer of frustration. "He's got a concussion, his esophagus and ribs are bruised, and his hands are torn up, but nothing life-threatening. We should have kept him awake in the car, but nothing we can do about it now."
Rinn nodded, relief evident in her posture, though her gaze remained fixed on Martin. "How long until he wakes up?"
Athria shrugged, her expression softening slightly. "A few days, maybe more. He needs to rest. Pushing himself right now would only make things worse." Dez folded her arms, her eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "We don't have time for him to be out of commission. We need to keep moving."
"I know," Athria replied, her voice hardening again. "But we won't get far if he collapses on us mid-mission. We need him at full strength before we even attempt to make our jump."
Rinn glanced at the door where Velpia stood just outside, her presence a shadow in the hallway. The tension between her and Athria was thick, and Rinn could sense Velpia's unease, her anger simmering beneath the surface. Athria hadn't even acknowledged her since they entered the med-bay.
Athria followed Rinn's gaze and sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose before ignoring her. "Rinn." Athria asked, "Did you and Martin get the supplies we needed?" Rinn turned her attention away from the door and to her. "Some, yes, we also stopped at the Clinic."
Athria's attention was peaked. Why would he have needed to go to the clinic in the first place? "Did he say why?" She asked cocking her eyebrow.
Rinn shifted her weight. Her expression was contemplative. "Martin said he had been feeling off for a while now. Chronic fatigue, brain fog—it was dragging on longer than expected. The doctors at the clinic found that his genetic upgrades were demanding more calories than a normal human needs. He was starving himself without knowing."
Athria's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's unusual. Genetic enhancements shouldn't impact metabolism to that degree. It's not something I've seen before."
"Doctor Michelle thought so, too. She had to consult some university on Mars to review his details because his upgrades were so drastic." Dez chuckled at Rinn's statement, "But yet he still gets knocked out." Rinn's head turned to Dez shockingly fast. Even though she couldn't see Rinn's face completely, she could tell Rinn didn't enjoy the comment.
Athria raised her hand gently to Dez, signaling her to back off, "Upgrades or not, he's still human. I doubt any amount of Genetic tampering could make anyone able to take a beating from a krogan and walk away unscathed." Athria added.
Rinn sighed, shaking off Dez's comment and turning her attention back to Athria. "The only other news they told him was that he'd probably live to a few hundred years old."
"Must be nice," Dez muttered.
"Alright," Athria paused, turning her attention to their immediate needs and annoyed by the back-and-forth. We need to focus. We need to keep an eye on the outside of the ship just in case anyone comes looking. Rinn and Dez," she paused again, taking another breath. You two are not to leave the ship for any reason. Velpia and I will have to patrol outside to keep an eye on things for the time being."
Rinn and Dez nodded in agreement. The three turned their attention outside the door as Velpia pushed herself off the outside bulkhead wall and walked away from the med bay.
"I guess we won't be getting much cooperation from her," Dez said plainly.
Athria and Rinn shrugged as Dez stood up from her chair and exited the room. Athria remained with Rinn, looking down at Martin before peaking up at Rinn, "He'll be alright, eventually." She tried to reassure her.
"Yeah, I know," Rinn sighed. "You should have seen it. I've never seen a small human somehow overpower a Krogan like that before," she said with a hint of amazement in her voice.
Athria remained neutral to her statement. No matter the ability, the Barbarian shouldn't have put himself in that situation. She still wasn't convinced that Martin would be that reckless unless someone put him in that situation on purpose. But her suspicion needed to be put aside for now, at least until she could talk to him.
"It must have been something to witness." she feigned.
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The world faded in and out of focus, like a flickering broken movie. Martin's head throbbed with a dull, relentless pain that radiated through his entire body. He wasn't sure where or even who he was at times. His mind was disconnected, scrambled, and unfocused. He swore he saw someone with a helmet and a bright light, but his mind gave him nothing. His eyes fluttered open for a moment, seeing a blurred movement of grey against an off-white background, a tilted helmet adjusting something nearby. The smell of a doctor's office filled his senses, but only for a moment. He tried to speak, but his dry throat refused to produce any words. His eyes slid shut again, retreating to the darkness.
In the void, the noises began.
Gunfire echoed in his ears, the staccato rhythm of assault rifles rattling through his mind like a bad memory on repeat. He could almost feel the rifle's weight in his hands, the recoil kicking against his shoulder as he fired round after round. The smell of sulfur and the feeling of heat on his face, Yelling—his own voice mingled with others—cut through the noise, frantic orders drowned out by the cacophony of battle. The familiar roar of artillery in the distance sent tremors through his body, each explosion vibrating through his bones. His heart pounded in his chest, his breaths quickening in response to the chaos around him. Martin's muscles tensed as if bracing for impact, his body reacting instinctively to the phantom sounds of combat. His mind struggled to differentiate between reality and the nightmare playing out in his head, the line between the two blurring with each heartbeat. He could feel his hands clenching into fists, the sensation of the worn leather of his gloves gripping his rifle almost tangible against his palms. But when he tried to move, to break free from the grip of the memory, his body felt leaden, trapped in the heavy fog of pain and exhaustion.
Images flashed before his eyes—his team, their faces twisted in pain and fear, the battlefield strewn with the bodies of the fallen, and the cold, detached voice of a panicked soldier barking, pleading desperately through his earpiece. The memories were relentless, each second stabbing into his consciousness like a knife, dragging him back into the past.
The site of a cathedral half destroyed behind him sent a shiver down his spine.The end, his mind repeated over and over. His chest sunk as his breath became shallow. The cries over his earpiece grew louder, as did the gunfire, artillery, and heavy armor rumbling. There was no escape. The end of all things was coming. His end was coming. This nightmare continued without him, unable to direct his movements, voices yelling as Martin-or what was him-dashed around the battlefield.Retreat, run, surrounded. He felt the presence of something large behind him, pointing at his being, only to be thrown to the ground with a force unrelenting. Darkness, then reawakening, a hard push to awaken, his arm broken from the fall, another push to rise while his left arm dangled. His weapon hanging from its sling, pain, his body completely in pain, his soul torn, knowing the end was nearing, the defiance was the only thing keeping him from complete despair. Limping towards the front door to the cathedral, the others waiting there, firing and ducking back,encouragement, salvation, if only temporary. The loud sounds drowned out to white noise as dust kicked up all around, pieces shattering off the wall before him.
Sharp pains spread across his back and legs, forcing him to the ground. Defiance was still running strong, trying to pull him towards the building, his eyes locked in front of him. There were more pains, more shattering, no more fighting, then darkness.
His subconscious rested as his mind pleaded to end the vision, not with words but with feeling. But was only a respite. The memory returned quietly, his body unfeeling, disconnected again. A sight of brown boots surrounded him, debris scattered, his eyes unable to move. The chilling sounds of those who stood around him laughing and joking, hands eventually reaching down and lifting his lifeless body to a stretcher, following more laughing and a few kicks before fading back to darkness. The end... the pain was gone, cold now, the embrace he so tried to fight against was the only thing he could feel.No salvation, only regret.