Mythos Effect

by Omniscent1

A crossover between Mass Effect and Cthulhutech. Humanity has won the Aeon War and has since expanded and thrived. How will the galaxy fare with this new power?

26. False Hope

Chapter 25: False Hope

Adrien was no stranger to early mornings. Back in boot camp, you were up whenever the drill sergeants said you were, whether it was barely sunrise or in the middle of the night. Camp Horton's schedule wasn't nearly so random; the humans allowed a full night's rest without interruption. However, when morning came, everyone was up without exception. Worse, they signaled the arrival of the new day with a recording of some kind of horn, whose tune was both annoyingly upbeat and loud.

But this time, it was different.

Instead of a chipper fanfare, the sound that roused Adrien from his sleep was a harsh, blaring siren. It was a sound that boded nothing good, and as if to emphasize that, an amplified voice rang out.

"All prisoners will assemble in the main courtyard immediately," it declared in thunderous tones.

Adrien blinked, just noticing the flurry of activity around him. The other occupants of the cabin were putting on their prison attires with almost frantic haste. All the while, the message repeated and the siren continued to scream. Calo suddenly appeared before him, face anxious.

"Better get moving, buddy. This isn't the time to be sleeping in."

"What the hell's happening?" Taeden asked, leaning over the side of his bunk, voice carrying the ponderous tone of the recently woken.

"One of our people fucked up big time," Calo said grimly. "This only happens if someone breaks the Big Three."

Adrien's drowsiness suddenly faded, replaced by a cold sense of foreboding. While he had only just arrived at Camp Horton, he had made a point to memorize the rules that the commandant had spoken of. At the very top were the offenses that would warrant the death penalty, nicknamed the "Big Three" by the inmates: murder, rape, and assaulting the guards, all written in big, bold letters colored bright red. It was actually very similar to what the Hierarchy had in place, though no less threatening for it. And if the humans went through the same procedures as they did, it was sure to be a swift and bloody affair.

It had been a long time since Adrien had been so motivated to get dressed.

Some minutes later, he found himself in the courtyard, packed tightly against his fellow inmates. The mecha that had been part of the greeting party when he'd first arrived were already there, forming a solid wall of metal in case the Turians started to get unruly. Taeden was on his right, looking as troubled as Adrien felt. He didn't blame the younger soldier; nobody would want to see one of their own facing the retribution of an alien power, no matter how legal or justified it might be. They all stood facing the podium, waiting for whatever was about to happen.

Colonel Rashid appeared through the door of a nearby compound, striding purposefully towards the raised platform. Beside him was a female Turian, who matched his pace. She looked as if she'd been in a fight; cuts and bruises marred her face and one eye was covered by a bandage. Her good eye blazed with a visceral outrage.

They were followed by an entourage of armed guards, the clomping of their armored boots echoing throughout the campgrounds. Another Turian was among them, hands bound tightly behind his back. A low chorus of mutters broiled up from the mass of onlookers; some were curious, some were angry, and some were morbidly intrigued.

Colonel Rashid stepped up onto the podium with the female Turian following after him. The guards took up position around the perimeter and the prisoner was brought up. Adrien was finally able to get a good look at him and, to his surprise, he recognized the prisoner.

Malgus was ushered into the center of the podium and made to kneel. He was in rough shape as well, sporting bruises of his own and a pair of ugly lacerations on his snout. Something had obviously happened between him and the female Turian; judging by the bone-deep look of loathing she gave him, it had been a very personal matter.

Adrien glanced over at Taeden to observe his reaction at seeing a member of his unit about to be condemned, expecting some sort of empathetic reaction. Instead, he saw that Taeden looked coldly satisfied, as if he'd been waiting for this moment for a long time.

"Well, how about that," he muttered. "Looks like Malgus finally punched his ticket."

In spite of the situation, Adrien felt a sense of curiosity starting to bubble up inside him. Before he could say anything, Colonel Rashid stepped up to the edge of the podium, raking the gathered prisoners with a piercing gaze.

"I consider myself a fair man," he said. "I strive to create a haven of order and peace here, separate from the ugliness of war on this world. When someone breaks the rules, I do my best to be as lenient as possible." His face suddenly crashed into a dark scowl.

"However, there are certain offences that cannot and will not be treated lightly." He turned back to Malgus, staring down at him with utter contempt. "Trooper Malgus Serrik, you have been found guilty of rape and attempted murder in accordance with both Federation and Hierarchy standards of wartime justice. The penalty for these crimes is death by firing squad."

Rashid then looked over at the female Turian. "Corporal Vespia Karos, as the aggrieved party, by Hierarchy law, you have the right to appeal for clemency on behalf of the convicted. Is that your wish?"

One look at the hateful glare she was giving Malgus was enough for anyone to know that there would be no mercy from her. He stared back at her, baring his teeth in a mocking sneer. There was absolutely no trace of remorse or regret for his actions. If he was sorry about anything, it was only that he'd been caught.

Vespia looked back up at the commandant and shook her head. "No. And I say you should feed him to your Engels. A bullet's too good for this piece of shit."

"Very well, then." Rashid once more turned to face Malgus. "Leniency has been denied. The sentence will be carried out immediately."

The two guards seized Malgus under the arms and hauled up back to his feet. They dragged him off the podium and over to a nearby wall, where a row of metal pillars stood. There was no need to guess what their purpose was.

Malgus was brought up to one of them and made to turn around so that the guards could attach his restraints to a ring in its center. One pulled out a strip of black cloth and held it up to him.

"Do you want a blindfold?" he asked.

Malgus's answer came in the form of a large globule of spit which he hocked onto the guard's visor. The human stowed the cloth strip away and calmly wiped his visor clean. Their job done, the two guards stepped back as a whole squad of human soldiers marched forward, spreading out to form a single line. One of them stepped off to the side and addressed Malgus.

"Malgus Serrik, for the crime of rape and attempted murder, you will now suffer death by firing squad. Do you have any last words before the sentence is carried out?"

Malgus grinned crookedly at the human. "Yeah: could you hurry up? I haven't got all day."

Well, he's no coward, that's for sure, thought Adrien. It was almost enough for him to feel some respect towards the condemned Turian. Almost.

The human moved off to one side and turned to face the execution squad. He held up a hand and barked, "Make ready!"

There was a rattle of metal as the soldiers held their guns at attention, smooth as greased machinery.

"Take aim!"

The barrels of four guns were leveled at Malgus with practiced ease. Adrien couldn't help but wonder if they had done this before. The entire camp was now completely silent; there was not even a whisper of wind to be heard.

"FIRE!"

The baleful crack of gunfire shattered the silence. Malgus slumped against his post, chest riddled with ragged, bloody holes. The human who had ordered the firing approached and inspected the now-lifeless Turian. Apparently satisfied that Malgus was properly dead, he nodded at Rashid, who had been looking on

"Let this be a warning to you all," he declared, pointing at the bullet-riddled corpse. "The rules of Camp Horton will be enforced, without exception." He gave an absent wave to the gathered Turians. "You are all dismissed; go get your breakfast now."

With that, the crowd of Turian prisoners dispersed and headed towards the cafeteria. No one spared the body so much as a backward glance, even as it was being taken down from the post. An outsider might have been shocked by the display of cool apathy, but that was simply how their society worked. Malgus had obviously committed severe crimes and was completely unrepentant. Thus, it was the duty of the established authority to mete out justice; the fact that it was a foreign power doing it made no difference. Far better to put the whole affair out of mind and decide what you wanted to eat.

The mess hall was a huge place, easily able to accommodate the entire male side of the camp. As Adrien and Taeden passed through the door, the smell of freshly-cooked food hit them. Grabbing a tray from the dispenser near the doors, they went to stand in line.

Food was served buffet style in massive metal bins, staffed by other Turians who ladled portions out onto proffered trays. It was good food, too; scrambled louza eggs, rashers of shatha bacon, dextro-amino flapjacks, and more. Adrien took a little of everything and by the time they exited the line, his tray had practically disappeared under a pile of breakfast dishes.

"Well, today is definitely shaping up to be a good one," Taeden remarked cheerfully as they sat down at a nearby table.

"I guess there's no need to ask how you feel about Malgus's untimely demise," Adrien remarked dryly. While there was certainly no love lost where he was concerned, the younger Turian looked happier than he'd been in a long while and Adrien was almost positive that he'd just gotten a new spring in his step.

Taeden took a bite of eggs and let out a scornful laugh. "If ever there was someone who deserved a hail of bullets, it was him. Malgus used to be a hitter for some bigtime gang in one of the big cities on Digeris before everything went to shit; he had a rap sheet of everything from petty theft to cold-blooded murder. Believe me, the galaxy is a better place with him gone."

"How does someone like that get mixed in with a regular unit?" asked Adrien. "Unless the judicial system on this world is insanely lenient, it sounds like he should have been on death row."

"He was, actually," said Taeden. "But then the Federation invaded and we had bigger concerns. They were killing us so fast that we started running out of warm bodies to fill in the gaps. Off-world reinforcements were sporadic at best and even the reserves were getting eaten up—literally, in most cases." The younger Turian's face took on a gloomy look.

"It got to the point where we had two choices: either lower the age limit for enlistment, or recruit from the dregs of society. Since no one wanted to put kids through the hell that had come to Digeris, we started drafting inmates from every prison on the planet to fill in the gaps in legion ranks."

Adrien nodded as he chewed on strip of bacon. It was customary for criminals to be given a chance at redemption in the eyes of the Hierarchy, usually by going out on missions that were considered near-suicide. If they lived, their crimes were expunged; if not, they were forgiven posthumously. In the event of a full-scale war, entire penal battalions could be sent out.

"The results were…mixed, let's say," Taeden continued. "They weren't exactly keen on getting eaten alive by a human-made monster. Some slipped away in the chaos of war at the first opportunity, while others flat-out mutinied. Basically, those commanding a unit where convicts were put in had to be mean and harsh."

"I take it Julek is no exception, then?" asked Adrien. His mind flashed back to his confrontation with Ferox, where the veteran captain had saved his hide. He still felt a chill at how completely unafraid Julek had been and how easily he'd gotten Ferox to back off.

"Hmm…" Taeden's mandibles flared thoughtfully. "The captain's not really harsh, so much as…creative, when he decides to assert his authority. He's totally insane, but he's the kind of insane that nobody wants to fuck with. In fact, our company became the dumping ground for the real shitbags because of that; we've had murderers, gang members, even a serial arsonist, and they were all too scared of Julek to try anything."

"Huh," Adrien said. His curiosity was now thoroughly aroused and it sensed an opportunity to learn more about the enigmatic captain. "So, what exactly is the story with Julek? How did he get to be…you know—" he waved a hand around in the air.

"You mean, how did he become the lunatic steel-hide he is today?" asked Taeden wryly. He gave a small shrug. "Honestly, I don't really know too much about him. He's not really interested in talking about his past, and the rumor mill churns out all kinds of stories about him. What I've gathered is that he used to be as sane as you or me, but he was stationed at Apparitus when the Federation attacked the city; he was one of the very few soldiers who made it out alive. Whatever happened there turned him into what he is now." A slight shudder coursed through him. "Personally, I think I'm better off not knowing."

Adrien privately agreed with that sentiment. Whatever dark thoughts were going on behind those sharp, gleaming eyes of Julek's were ones that he was perfectly happy to never find out.

"What about Sidra and Lux?"

"There's not much to say about Lux," said Taeden. "He lost his arm at some city or other; a building had caved in on him and it got trapped under a big chunk of rubble. The guy had to cut it off to free himself.

"Sidra, on the other hand…whoof." Taeden shook his head. "That is not a happy story, I can tell you. She used to be part of the recon corps, trying to infiltrate Huey lines. On her last mission, her team got ambushed by a Tager; killed the others and left her for dead. She managed to find a nearby town to take refuge in, but the place already had occupants.

"You remember what I said about those convicts who went their own way? Well, a decent-sized group of them had turned bandit and were using the town as their base. They were a bunch of vicious, hard-bitten males and Sidra was a young, relatively attractive female. You can do the math there."

Adrien nodded, suddenly feeling both queasy and angry. "How'd she get out of there?"

"She killed them all," Taeden replied simply. "One night, her captors didn't secure her properly and she got loose. Slit the throats of the bandits while they slept and then went to work on their boss. He wasn't so lucky. After that, Sidra made her way back to friendly lines and was placed under Julek's command."

"How do you know all this?" asked Adrien. "I only met her briefly, but Sidra doesn't strike me as someone who would spill their life's story."

Taeden chuckled softly. "Well, believe it or not, that's exactly what she did. When I got transferred to Julek's company after my old one got wiped out, she stood took me and the other new meat aside and told us her story, followed by a warning that she wouldn't hesitate to do the same to us as she did to the bandit chief if we got out of line." He shuddered at the memory. "That moment ranks in my top five scariest experiences. I think that was the only time I ever heard her string more than three consecutive words together."

A dejected look suddenly crossed his face. "Wonder how they're holding up? Things are probably getting really bad now."

It was at this moment that Adrien decided to seize his chance. His goal to escape from the Camp Horton had not diminished, despite the fact that his life had become far more bearable since arriving. But he knew that he couldn't do it alone, and Taeden was the best choice to help him. Seeing him express such worry for his unit back at Carista gave him hope that he'd agree to help him.

Well, here goes nothing.

"I wish I knew how my soldiers were holding up, too," Adrien began in a casual tone. "Things were already pretty strained before we left on our scouting mission; can't imagine they've gotten any better."

"Yeah, well, nothing we can do about it," Taeden sighed.

"Not here, no," Adrien agreed. "So, it would probably help if we weren't here."

Taeden snorted. "What are you talking about? How would we—" He stopped midsentence and his head snapped up to look at Adrien. "Wait, are you saying what I think you are?"

Adrien nodded. "I am."

Taeden glanced around to see if anyone was listening. Fortunately, everyone else was too occupied with their meals and the ambient noise was loud enough to drown out everything beyond their immediate area. He bent over his tray and hissed, "Are you out of your mind? You really want to try and escape?"

"I have to," said Adrien, bending down to Taeden's level. "My troops are still trapped in that city and they are living on borrowed time. I can't just sit here and leave them to the whims of fate." He looked Taeden dead in the eye. "But I can't do it alone; I need your help."

Taeden let out a bark of laughter, as if Adrien had just said something incredibly dumb. "Why the hell would I do that?"

"Your unit is trapped there, too. Don't you want to save them?"

"Not enough to go back out there," said Taeden firmly. He held up a hand to forestall any comments. "Look, I've been fighting in this fucking war ever since it came to Digeris, and every second of it was a nightmare. For over two years, I've been dodging the jaws and talons of bioengineered monsters, exchanging fire with Huey soldiers, and going to sleep each night wondering if a Tager or some other horror is going to pay me a visit. I can't even begin to count the number of times I nearly died out there.

"But now, I don't have to worry about all that. In this place, there's good food, comfortable accommodations, and best of all, safety. All I have to be concerned about is how I'm going to spend my days here until the war ends. Besides, for all we know, Carista has fallen. I'm not about to throw myself back into the meatgrinder for what might very well turn out to be a pointless task. Hell, you should want to stay here even more than I do; didn't you say that you have a wife and son back home? This is your best chance to see them again."

The mention of Sarissa and Tarquin hit Adrien like a physical blow. Taeden was right, he knew; if he stayed in Camp Horton, then he was practically guaranteed to be reunited with them whenever the war ended. How many Turians would kill to have that opportunity? How many others had already lost it forever?

But Adrien knew that if he didn't at least try to get back to his troops, he'd never forgive himself. No matter how tempting it was, he couldn't bring himself to abandon them. They had stuck by him through so much; it would be a stain on his soul if he gave up on them.

"Much as I would love to stay here, I can't just leave them," said Adrien solemnly.

"Well, more power to you." Taeden turned his attention back to his food with finality. "Do whatever you want, but leave me out of it. I'm sorry, captain, but that's the way it is."

Adrien couldn't say he was surprised by the younger Turian's reaction. The Federation had devised the best kind of prison: one where the inmates didn't want to leave. Places like Camp Horton offered a bastion of relief amidst a maelstrom of death, destruction and crushing despair. It was plainly obvious that Taeden wasn't going to be persuaded by appeals to loyalty.

But Adrien still had one trick left to play.

"What about Hius?" he asked.

Taeden, who had been about to shovel a forkful of eggs into his mouth, suddenly stopped and slowly looked back up at him. "What did you say?"

"I said: what about Hius?" Adrien repeated. "You know, your lover back in Carista."

"We're not lovers!" Taeden snapped. "I told you, we're just mutual bunkmates, nothing more!"

"That's a load of crap and we both know it," Adrien retorted. "I saw how you looked when you talked about her; she means a lot more to you than just a quick tumble in the sheets, and I'm sure the feeling is mutual. She's probably wondering if you're ever going to make it back."

"She won't be," Taeden declared bitterly. "We were only supposed to be out for a day at most on our scouting mission. By now, we'll have been written off as MIA. Hius won't waste time on false hope."

Though he put up a good front, it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself than Adrien. He was wavering, and Adrien now went in for the kill.

"Even if that's true, it doesn't change the fact that she's still out there, in an absolutely shitty situation." Adrien pointed at Taeden's plate. "I can guarantee Hius isn't eating as well as us; unless they got some sort of windfall, the rations are almost gone. Then, she's going to be faced with two options: surrender to the Federation, or go out with a bang.

"Then again, she might not even get a choice; maybe some of the soldiers with dreams of being part of a heroic last stand will force everyone's hand. Or maybe the Hueys will send out another Tager pack to cause more damage and she'll end up among the casualties."

Adrien gave a nonchalant shrug. "But, if you really don't see her as anything but a convenient bunkmate, then by all means stay here, feasting and lounging about while she starves and waits for whatever end may come."

For a long moment, Taeden glared sourly at Adrien, not saying anything. Then, then younger Turian looked down at his food, grumbled something under his breath, and raised his head back up to look at him.

"You're a cruel, manipulative asshole, you know that?" he said, pointing is fork at Adrien. He heaved a sigh that seemed to come from a deep abyss within himself. "Fine. I must be out of my mind, but count me in for your get-out-of-jail plan." He stared pointedly at Adrien. "You do have a plan, right?"

"Let's call it a 'work in progress,'" said Adrien.

Taeden heaved another sigh. "I was afraid you'd say that."

#

It occurred to Adrien that he might have been overly charitable when he said his plan was a work in progress. In fact, he didn't really have one, unless you counted "escape from the prison camp" a plan. But, as with every other challenge he had faced throughout his life, Adrien was going to tackle it creatively. First off, however, he needed to survey the camp's boundaries; there was no point in formulating a plan without seeing what he was working with.

After breakfast ended and the camp's inmates went off to do whatever they wanted for the day, Adrien set off to observe the camp's borders. To prevent outing himself, he did everything he could to appear like he was just another Turian in the crowd. He would stroll along one side of the wall for a time, then head over to an ongoing sports game or join a crowd of onlookers to a sparring match, as if that had been his intent the whole time.

It took Adrien until mid-afternoon to complete a full circle of the camp's perimeter and he found himself being less than pleased with the results. The walls were as solid as a Krogan's skull; he'd need an industrial-grade carving laser to get through them. Not that that would have been a viable option, anyway; each section of wall had a watchtower on it that was garrisoned by very alert human soldiers and cameras covered any area they couldn't. There were no blind spots as far as Adrien could tell, so there would be no digging his way out underneath the walls.

He was about to head back to the mess hall in a less-than stellar mood, when he suddenly noticed what looked to be a supply truck rumbling its way into the campgrounds. The truck itself wasn't what caught his attention; it was the fact that the humans hadn't closed the gate after it came through. They were wide open, with no guards that Adrien could see. There couldn't have been a more inviting way out than what was right before him, which any Turian with half a brain could take advantage of. But nobody did; if anything, the inmates did their best to stay as far away from the open gates as possible.

"What are you looking at, pal?"

Adrien glanced to his side to see Calo had come up beside him, his scarred face bearing a friendly smile. He inclined his head in greeting.

"Nothing much, just wondering why the humans aren't keeping those gates shut," Adrien said, pointing at them. "Anyone could slip out if they wanted to."

Calo chuckled. "Well, first of all, I'd ask who would be crazy enough to do that. There's nothing out there but misery and death. But, if you want find out why, go ahead and try walking out."

Adrien fixed Calo with a suspicious gaze, wondering if he was trying to pull some kind of prank. But the look in his eyes were entirely earnest and so, Adrien shrugged and walked over to the gates. No command for him to stop rang out, no guard moved to intercept him. Surely, it couldn't be this easy?

Then, just as he came within three feet of the gates, Adrien stopped dead in his tracks. A feeling of dread, menace and crippling anxiety enveloped him, striking with such force that he instinctively took several steps back. The horrible sensation faded almost as quickly as it had come on, and Adrien was aware of his hammering heart and heaving breaths.

He tried to approach the gates again, and the awful miasmic aura rushed forward to meet him. While he didn't back away this time, Adrien found that he couldn't move even an inch forward, no matter how hard he pushed himself. Some deep, primordial force within the core of his mind simply refused to let him move.

Unable to stand the feeling any longer, Adrien strode back where he'd come, trying not to seem too desperate to get away from them. When he got back, Calo was cackling raucously. "Packs a hell of a punch, don't it?"

"What was that?" asked Adrien, his voice quavering.

"The humans have something they call 'wards,'" Calo said. "They go around every so often and inscribe these weird glyphs along the camp's walls. According to them, wards are a type of magic spell that they use to protect themselves from harm or keep things out of places."

"You really believe that?" Even at this point, Adrien remained skeptical about the whole "magical powers" stuff that the humans claimed existed.

Calo shrugged. "With all the crazy shit they've pulled out, I'm willing to give it some credence. In any case, they certainly believe in it and get very riled up if we don't take it seriously, so I'd advise playing along.

"Anyway, it's almost lunchtime." He clapped a hand on Adrien's shoulder. "Good food always makes any day better."

Adrien followed Calo back to the mess hall and once more stood in line for his meal. The food was just as varied as it had been during breakfast; Adrien ended up with a big steak, a bowl of chowder and a nice big wedge of graxen bread layered with a thick spread of berry sauce. He sat down at a table and began cutting into his steak; it was cooked just the way he liked it, seared on the outside but nice and juicy on the inside.

A few more days of eating like this, and I might not even want to escape, thought Adrien as he speared a piece of meat and shoved it into his mouth. It tasted even better than it looked.

Taeden chose that moment to join him with his own tray of food. He'd also gone for the steak, but instead of the chowder, he'd opted for a side of crispy fried louza pieces. Sitting down, he grabbed a drumstick and started gnawing at it.

"So, how goes the plan?" he asked, swallowing a mouthful of steaming white meat.

"Not too good," Adrien admitted. "The humans have this placed locked up tight as a drum; no weak points that I could see." He decided not to mention his experience at the gate; even now, he could still feel the effects of whatever strange force hit him. "What about you? Find out anything useful?"

"As a matter of fact, yes," said Taeden. "Sort of, anyway."

"What do you mean, 'sort of'?"

"Well, it's something of a 'good news, bad news' deal. The good news is, I know where we are. By that, I mean I know where the camp is."

"That's something, I guess," said Adrien. "So, where are we?"

"And that's the bad news," said Taeden. "It turns out that Camp Horton is located just a few miles away from the Alton Forest."

"What makes that bad news?" asked Adrien.

Taeden gave a theatrical shrug. "Oh, nothing really. It's just the largest forest on the continent, somewhere around two million square miles in size. And the camp is on the other side of it."

That certainly was bad news. "So, I'm guessing that there's no way to pass through it?" remarked Adrien.

"Sure, you can," said Taeden. "As long as you're okay with trekking through hundreds of miles of wooded area, all of which will be chock full of nasty creatures."

Morbid curiosity compelled Adrien to ask, "What kind of creatures?"

"Well, there's the Bruma brush-viper, which is a snake the size of a bus and with venom powerful enough to kill you in a minute," said Taeden. "Then, there's the Great Pragari, a species of giant predatory theropod that stands about twenty feet tall and has jaws like industrial-grade steel cutters. And there's plenty more where those came from."

"Which means that a breakout isn't an option," said Adrien bitterly. Even if they did somehow get out of the camp, going through what Taeden was describing amounted to nothing less than a very elaborate and messy suicide.

"Pretty much," agreed Taeden. "So, unless you've got another plan in the works, it looks like we'll be stuck here for the rest of the war."

Apparently content to give the matter no further thought, Taeden went back to eating. Meanwhile, Adrien wracked his brain for a new plan. If he couldn't escape, then he needed to find a way to be let out. That struck him as even less likely than breaking out of the camp. After all, couldn't just go up to Colonel Rashid and say, "Hey, would you mind sending me back to Carista so I can work out a way to get about half a million Turians safely behind friendly lines?" The very thought was ridiculous.

Unless…

Adrien suddenly paused as he turned that thought over in his head. The humans wanted the garrison to either surrender or die of starvation, whichever came first. Their forces surrounding the city had to be tired of sitting around waiting by now and Adrien was certain that their higher-ups would want those units to be back in action sooner rather than later. If they were looking for a way to convince the trapped Turians to give up…

At that moment, a new plan came to Adrien. It was a long shot of truly immense proportions, but it was possible. It all depended on how eager the Federation was to bring the siege to a close.

First, however, he needed to meet the warden.

When lunchtime ended, Adrien stepped out of the cafeteria and looked around for the nearest human guard. He found a small group of them off to one side of the camp, chatting with each other, and briskly strode over to them. They quickly noticed Adrien approaching and turned to face him, calm but wary.

"What do you want?" demanded one of the soldiers, a broad, thick-necked individual.

Adrien held up his hands to show that he was no threat. It would be really hard to put his plan into action if he got shot dead now. "I need to speak to the warden," he said, hoping he sounded properly deferential.

Thick-Neck let out an annoyed sigh. "If you've got a complaint, you need to fill out a form at the main administration building and put it in the marked box; we'll address it as soon as possible," he recited in a voice that plainly said he couldn't care less about any complaints Adrien might have.

"No complaints," Adrien assured him. "But it's vitally important that I speak to the warden."

"Oh, it's vital!" the guard proclaimed in mock astonishment, turning to look at his friends. "You hear that, guys? This Turian's got something important that he needs to say! We'd better take him to the colonel lickety-split!"

The humans laughed raucously, clearly finding the whole scenario completely ridiculous. Adrien had to admit that if the situation had been reversed, he'd probably react the same way. That didn't make it any less irritating, though.

"All right, let's cut to the case here," said Adrien. "What's it going to take for me to see the warden?"

"Nothing short of a matter of life or death," Thick-Neck stated firmly. "I don't suppose your little message is that important, is it?"

"As a matter of fact, that's exactly the case," Adrien replied.

"Oh, really?" This time, it was one of the other soldiers that spoke, a taller, somewhat thinner human. "So, who's dying, then?"

"At the very least, thousands of Turians. Probably a lot more," Adrien replied. "Let me be frank here: I need to see the warden, because I want to save those lives by any means I have. And if that means I have to make a nuisance of myself in order to make that happen, then I will."

"Is that a fact?" asked Thick-Neck. "And what if I decide to throw you into a confinement cell for a few days?"

Adrien shrugged. "Then I'll just go back to being a pain in the ass for you the moment I get out. Believe me when I say that I can be plenty irritating if I want to be, so unless you want to find out who's got more resolve between the two of us, you'll take me to the warden and never have to deal with me again."

The humans stared silently at him as he finished. Privately, Adrien hoped that his show of audacity wouldn't actually land him in a confinement cell. He needed all the time he could get.

For a long moment, none of the humans said anything. Then, Thick-Neck let out a bark of laughter. "Fuck me, you're serious, aren't you?"

"As serious as I've ever been about anything," Adrien agreed.

"You've got guts, Turian. I'll give you that." He let out a sigh. "All right, fine. You want to see the warden that badly, let's go."

Without another word, he roughly grabbed hold of Adrien's arm and pushed him forward. Hardly daring to believe that his ploy had actually worked, he made no protest. The other two soldiers filed in behind them, guns held at the ready in case their charge tried anything funny.

In short order, Adrien was brought to a building which he assumed was the warden's office. Thick-Neck went up to the door and pressed a button on an intercom console. An instant later, Rashid's voice crackled through the speaker.

"Who is it?" came the curt question.

"Sergeant Finley, sir," said the guard. "I got me a prisoner here that is dead-set on getting an audience with you. Says it's a matter of life and death for thousands of other Turians."

"And is it?"

"He sure seems to think so, and he says he's willing to become a problem if he doesn't see you. I even threatened to throw him a cell for a few days for that; didn't even phase him."

"What's the prisoner's ID?"

"D-O3-568990."

There was silence for a few moments and then the Colonel spoke again. "All right, Sergeant, my curiosity is piqued. Bring the prisoner in."

"Yes, sir," Finley said. He turned back to Adrien. "Well, looks like you got your wish." He poked a thick finger against his chest. "Just a reminder: any funny business, and me and the boys here will beat you into a stain on the floor. Got it?"

Without waiting for a reply, the guard pushed open the door and went inside. Adrien followed behind him, the other two humans taking up position on either side.

The office interior was the very embodiment of simplicity. Aside from some metal cabinets and a few bits of mundane furniture, the spacious room was empty. It honestly made the décor of Turian offices seem flamboyant by comparison; clearly, Rashid wasn't one for extravagance.

The colonel in question sat behind a desk, hands clasped primly on its top while his eyes stared unblinking at the new arrivals in his domain. He stood up as Finley approached him, his motions easy and cool. The guard snapped to attention and threw the warden a sharp salute.

"Prisoner here to see you, sir," Finley said.

"Thank you, Sergeant," replied Rashid, returning the salute. He sat back down and looked back at Adrien. "Take a seat," he said, pointing at a plastic chair in front of his desk.

Adrien did as he was told and the three soldiers formed up around him, ready to make him regret pulling any stunts that might come to mind. Rashid consulted a computer monitor on his desk, the five fingers of one hand tapping a slow rhythm on its surface.

"Prisoner D-O3-568990," he read off. "Real name, Adrien Victus, holding the rank of captain in the Hierarchy Army, born on Thracia and so on and so forth." Rashid focused his attention back on Adrien. "So, I understand that you have a rather urgent matter to bring up to me regarding the wellbeing of a number of your fellow Turians."

Adrien took that as his cue to speak and mentally prepared himself to make his case. If he messed things up now, it was all over. Taking a deep breath to steady his nerves, Adrien launched into his pitch.

"Colonel Rashid, I don't know how much you might be aware of what's happening on the frontlines," he began, "but around the city of Carista, your soldiers have encircled about half a million of my people and to put it bluntly, things are bad there."

"Yes, I do seem to recall hearing about that," Rashid said, not sounding particularly concerned. "From what I've gathered, they're running critically low on food and other essentials. Barring a miracle, they won't last until the end of the month, if not sooner." He favored Adrien with a wry smile. "Shall I assume that you want to be that miracle?"

Adrien barely managed to repress a shiver; that was almost dead-on for what he intended. He was suddenly reminded of the fact that some humans were literal mind-readers. But, it was neck or nothing now. He just had to plow on ahead, and hope that Rashid wasn't one of them.

"More or less," Adrien said. "Like I said, their situation isn't exactly tenable, and they know it. They have only two options: surrender or die."

"And you believe that they will take the latter option as a matter of honor, am I correct?" asked Rashid, though it was clear that he already knew that he was. Even if the warden wasn't a mind-reader, he was proving to be inconveniently perceptive.

"Exactly," Adrien agreed. "Most Turians in their condition would prefer to go out and fight in the hopes of dying in a blaze of glory."

"They would certainly get their wish," said Rashid. "Although, I wouldn't call charging headlong at massed artillery batteries and a wall of guns a glorious end." He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers together. "So, let me take a wild stab in the dark here: you would like to be able to go back there in the hopes of convincing them to choose surrender over certain death; am I correct?"

Actually, it was more along the lines of helping them escape across the Braxa River and link up with friendly forces, but Adrien didn't say that. He also tried very hard to not even think that.

"That's about the size of it," said Adrien. "All I'm asking for is a chance to save their lives." He was suddenly struck by an inspiration. "And the Federation would have fresh propaganda material if I'm successful. Think about it: one of, if not the greatest mass surrender of Turian forces in the whole war. You'll get to show the whole galaxy that you're not only tough as hell, but merciful, especially if you get some of them on camera. The rest of Citadel space would eat that up like a fine meal."

A part of him revolted at the fact that he was essentially helping the enemy by suggesting that, but he pushed the feeling aside. If there was one thing he knew, it was that appealing to someone's self-interest was the best way to get them to go along with whatever it was you had in mind.

Rashid studied him intently for a long time. Then, he shook his head and a bemused expression crossed his face. "Well, this is a first: a Turian that actually wants to go back to the frontlines. I can't decide if you're supremely brave, or just crazy."

"Probably more crazy than brave," said Adrien.

Rashid laughed softly and then grew serious. "You really think that you can convince your people to give up?" he asked. "You Turians aren't exactly renowned for surrenders."

"I can try," said Adrien. "If I succeed, I save lives and you get a major victory. If I fail, well…I'm sure you'll be able to deal with whatever happens, so either way, you get your victory."

Rashid sat silently as he considered Adrien's proposal. His face was completely blank, giving no indication what his true thoughts were. Finally, he shrugged his shoulders.

"Very well. Consider it done. I'll have the paperwork processed to secure your release back to the Carista front within the hour."

Adrien blinked in surprise. "Just like that?"

"Just like that," Rashid affirmed. "Unless you've had a sudden change of heart and want to stay."

"No, nothing like that," Adrien assured him. "I just didn't expect it to be so expedient. Also, if it's no too much to ask, there's another Turian here that wants to go back too: Taeden Gilis, though I don't remember his ID number."

"Two Turians want to go back now?" asked Rashid, sounding genuinely surprised. "This really has been a day for wonders."

He tapped a few keys on the keyboard in front of him and once more consulted the monitor. "Taeden Gilis…" Rashid murmured. "Ah, there we are." He looked back at Adrien. "I'll draw up the forms for him too. Now, before either of you leave, you'll need to undergo some health inspections to make sure you're well enough to travel; standard procedure, you understand." He motioned at the soldiers. "Take him to the med hall."

The soldiers saluted and the two behind Adrien gripped him under the arms and hauled him to his feet. As they escorted him out of the room, he went over the exchange in his head. He'd done it. Everything he'd wanted, he'd gotten and he didn't need to do anything in return. It was a total victory as far as he could see.

So why did he feel like he had been played?

#

True to his word, Rashid had all the paperwork done for both Adrien and Taeden in short order. Not long afterward, they found themselves bustled onto a small aircraft and headed back to Carista. With nothing better to do, Adrien thought back to his meeting with Rashid; the more he went over the exchange, the more he became convinced that he'd been taken for a ride.

The problem was, he couldn't see how. Was he meant to be an unwitting spy for them? Adrien had checked for any electronic bugs in his armor when the humans had returned it to him, but found nothing. And he couldn't believe that their mind-readers would be able to reach him from so far away. Could they really have known what his true intentions were? If so, why let him and Taeden go back and give them the chance at making it happen?

Adrien sighed and shook his head. Too many possibilities to consider; he'd just have to make do however things came his way.

The craft suddenly lurched and Adrien felt the pit of his stomach rise up as he felt it descend. Beside him, Taeden sat up from the bulkhead that he'd been leaning against.

"Guess we're back," he said, sounding quite forlorn. "Goodbye comfortable prison camp; hello bloody meatgrinder."

The shuttle shuddered as it touched down and the door opened up to reveal the outside world. The pilot's voice crackled in over the intercom.

"Okay, boys; ride's over. Better hop off now, 'cause I ain't sticking around."

Obediently, Adrien and Taeden filed out of the aircraft. No sooner had their feet touched the ground, when the shuttle's engines roared and it rose up into the air. Soon, it was gone from sight, leaving the two Turians in the middle of the desolation that was Carista.

In daylight, the city wasn't nearly so foreboding, but its shattered cadaver was still a depressing reminder of what the war had cost Digeris. The skeletal remains of buildings stood sadly amidst mountains of rubble and streets riddled with artillery craters.

Adrien sighed. "Well, no point standing around here. Let's get going."

"Right," grumbled Taeden. "Back to those lovely cramped bunker tunnels and starvation rations." He skewered Adrien with a glare. "You're still a manipulative asshole, by the way."

"Duly noted," said Adrien.

They began trudging through the city, taking care to avoid the various pitfalls that surrounded them. About ten minutes into their journey, Taeden spoke up.

"Out of curiosity, how are we going to convince our guys to let us back in? I don't know about you, but if I were them, I'd be mighty suspicious of two former POWs just strolling back like nothing ever happened."

"Let me worry about that," said Adrien.

Truthfully, he was wondering the same thing. Given everything that had happened thus far, they were unlikely to be welcomed back with open arms. In fact, if things were bad enough, some high-strung and paranoid soldier might just decide to shoot them where they stood. It was going to take some very smooth talking to convince their fellow soldiers to take them back.

Adrien and Taeden continued to trek through the ruined city until they came across one of the bunker's alternate entrances, hidden between what had once been a pair of buildings. It was guarded by two very nervous Turians, both of whom looked no better off than before Adrien had been taken prisoner.

To his surprise, Adrien recognized one of them: Viggo was sitting with his back to the wall, checking his weapon over as was his wont whenever he felt stressed. He would pause to cast short, darting glances in all directions, as though he were reacting to sounds that only he could hear.

"We're in luck," Adrien informed Taeden. "One of the guards is part of my company."

"You really think he'll listen to you?" Taeden asked. The doubt in his voice was unmistakable, which made Adrien bristle.

"I've known my troops for almost seventeen years," he said. "In that time, I've led them against pirates, slaver bands and insurgents. They've trusted me with their lives and I've trusted them with mine."

Taeden gave a nonchalant shrug. "I'm just saying, we've been gone a few days now; a lot can happen in that time and in this war, even the best Turian can change for the worse." He fixed Adrien with a piercing stare. "Take it from someone who's seen it firsthand."

A cold pit began to grow inside Adrien at Taeden's words, but he quickly tamped it down. He motioned for Taeden to follow him and then strode out into view. Viggo was still checking his gun over as Adrien called out to him.

"I don't think you're going to find any new problems with that weapon, Viggo."

The big Turian spat out a curse and leapt to his feet, gun pointed with rock-steady precision at him. Viggo's eyes went wide with shock when he finally registered who was standing before him.

"Boss?" he asked in confused disbelief. "Is that really you?"

"In the flesh," Adrien said. He glanced at the business end of Viggo's gun with not inconsiderable apprehension. "While I'm glad to see you haven't gotten lax while I've been gone, maybe you could point that thing somewhere else?"

It was clear that Viggo wanted to do just that, but it was equally clear that his sense of caution wouldn't allow him. While Adrien had expected as much, it still hurt to see Viggo treat him with such suspicion. By this point, the other Turian had joined him, aiming his own gun and Taeden.

Viggo studied Adrien for a long moment, and then said, "Prove it. Tell me something only the captain would know."

"Remember when we were deployed to Oma Ker against the insurgents?" Adrien asked. "You accidentally ate some berries from what you thought was a moonberry bush. It was actually a white beryl plant, and it gave you an erection that wouldn't go away. When the medic brought out a syringe to extract the trapped blood and you saw the size of its needle, you shrieked, 'That's not a needle, that's a fucking harpoon!'" Even now, the memory of Viggo clutching his afflicted area while he stared at the syringe with abject terror still brought a chuckle to him.

To Adrien's relief, his anecdote seemed to satisfy Viggo. The big Turian let out a relieved sigh and lowered his gun. "Well, I'm convinced. Damn, it's good to see you again, Boss. I thought the Hueys had done you in."

"What about this guy?" the other Turian asked.

"He's with me," said Adrien. "I vouch for him."

The Turian shot a questioning look at Viggo, who gave a nod. "If my captain says he's good, he's good."

It was times like this that Adrien was glad he was a Turian. If he had been from any other race, neither of them would have accepted him back so easily. But now wasn't the time for quiet reflections; it was time to get back to work saving lives.

"While I'd like to do more reminiscing, I need to meet with Colonel Tarkin, Viggo," Adrien said. "Unless things have changed drastically in our favor while I've been out of action, time is still of the essence."

"Sure thing, Boss." Viggo stowed his gun away and went over to the bunker door, keying in the access code. He went inside and Adrien followed after him with Taeden right on his spurs. The other Turian took up position behind them, his own weapon still drawn. Obviously, he wasn't entirely convinced all was well.

"So, how are things as they stand right now?" Adrien asked as they walked down the narrow corridors.

"Well, much as I'd like to give you some good news, I'm afraid there isn't any," Viggo said gravely. "Our rations are nearly gone; we managed to get ahold of some local river fish that had died after spawning to fill the tins, but the quartermaster says that we only bought ourselves a few extra days at best.

"The medical situation is even worse. We're down to generic medicine brands that are basically useless, there's no more biofoam for injuries and being cooped up in this bunker hasn't done any favors for our health. It's a damn miracle that there hasn't been an outbreak yet."

"And morale?"

"Rock bottom. Colonial tensions are getting worse, too. There was a nasty brawl this morning between units from Thracia and Bostra. Colonel Tarkin is just barely holding things together." Viggo looked over his shoulder at Adrien. "It's real ugly here, Boss. The way I see it, we're one spark away from a fucking inferno."

Well, I can't say I expected much better, thought Adrien. If anything, he felt he should count himself lucky that things were still intact, if only just. A few minutes of walking later, and Viggo brought him to Tarkin's quarters and knocked on the heavy door.

"Yes?" His weary voice floated out from the intercom.

"Colonel, it's Lieutenant Viggo. I've got someone here that you'll want to see."

"Lieutenant, this might strike you as a surprise, but I'm not in the mood for guessing games. Who is it and why would I want to see them?"

"Captain Adrien Victus, sir."

The pause that followed went on for so long that Adrien began to wonder if the intercom had broken. Then, the door slid open and Tarkin stepped out.

By outward appearance, he looked like he'd aged a year for each day that had passed. His posture was stooped, as if it were a monumental effort just to stand upright. He was the very picture of a Turian halfway to the grave. Except for the eyes; they remained hard and alert, even the blinded one, and they fell upon Adrien with laser-focus.

"Captain Victus," he said. "Well, this is certainly a surprise. I'd given you up for dead." His eyes flicked over to Taeden. "And you brought Trooper Taeden with you, too."

Adrien and Taeden snapped a quick salute. "As you can see, sir, I'm alive and well. In fact, I'd say that I'm in better condition than when I left."

"Indeed," said Tarkin. "And unless I miss my guess, you wish to enlighten me as to what you've been up to since I sent your team out."

"As soon as possible, sir," Adrien agreed.

Tarkin made a dismissing motion towards Taeden. "Go get yourself back to your unit. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you again." He threw an amused look his way and Taeden suddenly looked a bit flustered. Adrien had a feeling he knew the reason; it seemed that his guess about Taeden's bunkmate had been right on the money.

Taeden gave another salute and went off. Tarkin turned back towards his quarters and beckoned Adrien to follow. They both stepped past the threshold and the door closed behind them with a soft mechanical click. The colonel shuffled over to a nearby chair and slumped down into it with a soft groan. Adrien remained standing at attention, and Tarkin let out an amused snort.

"Captain, I am long past the point of caring about formalities," he said, indicating a secondary chair. "Take a seat, and regale me with your story about the past few days."

Adrien obliged, sliding out the opposite chair and depositing himself into it. Once settled, he launched into his account.

"As you can probably guess, things didn't go so well for us. While we were making our way towards the Federation's lines, we crossed paths with an Engel. Trooper Urbo was killed and the rest of us were captured. The humans shipped us off to a POW camp called Camp Horton not long after."

"And since only you and Taeden are here, I assume that the rest of the team is still there?" Tarkin asked.

"Almost, sir," said Adrien. "Trooper Malgus managed to find himself on the wrong side of a firing squad."

Tarkin's countenance took on an expression of cold satisfaction. "Well, I can't say I'll miss him. To be frank, if things hadn't been so desperate, I'd have put the bastard down myself the moment I got him." He stared curiously at Adrien. "Of course, that begs the question of how you and Taeden managed to get out of the camp. It's not as if they would just let you go."

"Uh…actually, that's exactly what they did," said Adrien, shifting uncomfortably.

Though his expression did not change, Tarkin's gaze suddenly became more intense. "Interesting. And just how did that happen?"

"I told them that if they let me go, I could try and persuade you all to surrender and spare Turian lives," Adrien said.

"And they believed you?" Tarkin asked.

"That's the thing: I'm almost positive they didn't. They agreed far too easily to everything I wanted; there's no way in hell they'd be that trusting. However, I can't see what they gained by letting me go. They didn't plant any bugs on me that I can tell, so unless they've got some other way of keeping tabs on me, I'm pretty much out of their reach."

A dark corner of his mind told him that they did have other ways, though how effective they were was anyone's guess. Too much was still unknown about the humans' otherworldly powers.

Tarkin studied him for a long time with his half-blind gaze. Adrien suddenly felt like a convict sitting before a judge who was about to decide his fate. The Colonel gave no indication of what he was thinking, and Adrien could only hope that he wasn't found wanting.

Finally, Tarkin gave a dismissive shrug. "Well, I guess it doesn't really matter. You're here now." He folded his hands together. "So, I believe you had a report to give?"

"Yes, sir," said Adrien. "Unfortunately, it's not good. The southern front is all but finished; according to another prisoner I met, the Federation has practically destroyed our forces there. It won't be long until whoever remains gives up, so there's no point in trying to go there."

Tarkin nodded wearily. "I expected as much. What little information we were able to get about our southern forces didn't paint a hopeful picture. That just leaves the northern front intact." He let out a bitter laugh. "And we can't get to them because of the Braxa."

Tarkin suddenly smashed a fist onto the table, the sound echoing throughout the room like a gunshot. Anger, frustration and despair radiated off him like waves of heat, his face twisted up into a mask of fury born of impotence.

"They're right there! Right there! We're practically within spitting distance of each other! But thanks to that damn river, we might as well be on the fucking moon!"

Tarkin seethed for a moment, before slumping back down in his chair. "Sorry, Captain," he grunted. "Just needed to vent a bit; as you've probably already realized, things are getting worse around here, and unless we come up with a way to cross the Braxa, we're finished." He favored Adrien with a wry look. "I don't suppose you managed to come up with something while you were gone?"

"Well, that depends," said Adrien. "I had a few ideas kicking around before I left, but I shelved them because I felt they were too crazy. If you want, I can give you my least-craziest."

Tarkin chuckled humorlessly. "We're not exactly overflowing with options here, Captain. I'll take crazy over nothing."

"As you wish, sir." Adrien stood up and went over to the holo-map, manipulating the displayed image so that the Braxa was in the center.

"The main issue with the river is its width," Adrien told Tarkin as the colonel sidled up beside him. "The Braxa is just over eight miles wide; that's a fair distance, even if it might not look like much on the map. We don't have sufficient aquatic vessels to transport everyone, and even if we did, that kind of activity would undoubtedly catch the Federation's attention. Building a pontoon bridge would likely have the same effect."

"So, what is your idea to get around that hurdle?" asked Tarkin, a hint of impatience in his voice.

"Well, that's where we come to the crazy part," said Adrien. "If we can't cross the river by boat or bridge, then there's really only one option: we ford it."

Tarkin blinked in confusion. "I think I'm missing something, here. Didn't you just say that Braxa was too wide to cross without proper equipment?"

"Not quite." Adrien toggled the magnify command and zoomed in on a section of the river. "There's actually a portion of the river where its opposite banks are only about two miles apart and the water is only waist-deep." He pointed to the area. "I originally ignored that area because there wasn't a proper shoreline, but from what I could see on the local maps, there's enough dry land to walk on, and then it's a straight shot inland. The problem is, it's full of strong rapids, along with plenty of large, jagged rocks; one misstep could prove fatal in the worst way.

"Here's my plan: to minimize the risk of our people getting swept away, we send a squad across with a line of metal cable, as thick as we can get, and secure it on the other side. Once that's done, we can start moving across. It won't be a quick thing, obviously; with the rapids and uneven footing, we'll have to take it carefully."

Tarkin studied the map for a while, saying nothing. Then, he turned to look at Adrien, eyes furrowed in deep contemplation.

"So, to sum this up, you want have half a million Turians walk across a two-mile stretch of river, on uneven footing, while being pounded by seething torrents of cold water—and by cold, I mean really cold—with only a metal cable to keep them from getting swept away?"

"It'll also have to happen at night," said Adrien. "It's too risky to go during daylight hours. We'll be exposed enough as it is; we don't need to make it easier to spot us."

"Right…" Tarkin let out a deep breath. "And this was your least-crazy idea?"

Adrien gave an apologetic shrug. "Sorry, sir, but that's how it is. There are no good options available here, just bad ones and as far as I can see, this is the best bad option. It's the only one that has even a chance of working. If I had more time, maybe I could come up with something better, but that's just not possible."

Tarkin went silent, staring at the holographic map as though he could divine some sort of answers from it if he looked hard enough. Finally, he let out a resigned snort.

"Well, I did say I would take crazy over nothing," he remarked with sardonic amusement. "All right, Victus, let's do it. Here's hoping your idea is the kind of crazy that works."

#

Half an hour later, Tarkin called for a meeting with the remaining officers and highest-ranking noncoms. They were a truly sorry-looking lot, hollow-eyed, disheveled and clearly exhausted. Knowing that he was in much better shape than any of them thanks to his brief captivity, Adrien felt a small pang of guilt.

"All right people, here's the deal," said Tarkin without preamble. "As it stands, we're at the breaking point. Our rations are almost gone, the medical cabinets are empty and we're only getting weaker with each day. The only options available to us are to surrender, die, or try to escape."

"Escape?" someone asked, tone heavy with incredulity. "How? There's no way in hell we can break through the Huey lines."

"We're not going south," said Tarkin. "We're going north, across the Braxa."

Adrien could practically feel the disbelief radiating off the other Turians. The very idea of getting across the river no doubt seemed even more insane than trying to break out from the humans' encirclement to them. He certainly thought so, and he was the one who came up with the idea!

"I see you're all a bit shocked," Tarkin went on, not missing a beat. "I don't blame you; up until this point, even I didn't think it was possible." He clapped a hand on Adrien's shoulder. "Fortunately, Captain Victus here has come up with a plan to get us out of this mess. It's the mother of all longshots and absolutely insane, but it's also the only chance we've got."

The holo-map was still activated, and Tarkin indicated the area that Adrien had picked. "We're going to ford the river at this point, where the water is shallow enough to wade through. Due the rapids there, we'll first send a team across with a line of cable and make a guardrail of sorts to keep the rest of us from getting swept away. After that, we will attempt to make our way towards friendly lines."

He crossed his arms behind his back. "Any questions?"

One Turian stepped forward, and Adrien immediately recognized who it was: Ferox. He found himself feeling shocked at his rival's appearance; he looked even lankier than before, his armor seeming to barely fit him now. But it was his face that held Adrien's attention. Gone was the sneering zealotry that had always suffused his visage. Now, it was only a haunted mask.

"How good are our chances?" he asked. Even his voice was a shadow of itself, just a shade above a hoarse whisper.

For his part, Adrien could not have been more astounded than if Ferox had suddenly proclaimed himself a pacifist. If a military-fetishist like him was no longer touting the virtues of heroic last stands, then things really were bad. He wondered what had reduced Ferox to such a state, but then immediately decided that he didn't want to know.

"Let's just say, better than no chance," said Tarkin wryly.

"How are we going to get everyone across?" someone else asked from within the crowd as Ferox sank back in. "Some of our people are so weak they can barely move, never mind wade through rapids."

"We won't be taking them," Tarkin declared firmly. "Anyone too sick or weak to make the crossing will have to stay behind and surrender to the Federation."

A chorus of indignant mutters erupted from the gathered Turians. One stepped out from the crowd and addressed Tarkin directly.

"We're just going to abandon them?" he asked, sounding absolutely appalled at the notion.

"And how the hell would we get them across?" Tarkin demanded. "Carry them over our heads and hope that we don't all get swept away?" He swept the crowd with a cold glare. "Well? I'm open to any ideas."

No one answered and the Turian that had spoken slipped back into the crowd, appearing thoroughly chastened. Tarkin's gaze did not soften even a fraction as he addressed them all.

"If there was any other way, I'd take it. But the hard fact is that there is no other way, and last time I checked, I gave the orders here. I'm not asking anyone's permission; I'm telling you all what will happen.

"So, here's how this will go: you will get every able-bodied Turian up and ready for the river-crossing immediately. Anyone who can't walk on their own power will have to stay behind. Now, whoever who wants to stay with them is free to do so; in fact, I'll need some people for a rearguard, so anyone who doesn't want to make the crossing can speak with me afterwards. As for the rest of us, we'll need to travel light, so that means packing only the essentials, especially food; assuming everything goes well, we'll have a long trek ahead of us to get to friendly lines."

Tarkin stood silently, his good eye daring anyone to challenge his orders. No one did and he gave a curt nod. "All right, get to it. Dismissed."

As the crowd of soldiers filed out of the room, Tarkin turned to look at Adrien. "You'd best get back to your own people, Captain. I'm going to see about getting a team together to set up the line." He laughed softly. "I don't think I'm going to have many volunteers for that."

Adrien saluted and made his way out the door. No sooner had he left when he found himself being headed off by Viggo. By the look of it, he'd been hanging by door waiting for him to come out. His face was taut with worry, mandibles fluttering with nerves.

"What's happening, Boss?" he asked.

"Well, Viggo, it looks like my moment has finally come," said Adrien with wry amusement. "Tarkin has agreed to my idea to get our asses out of here."

Viggo blinked in surprise. "You actually came up with a plan?" he asked, astonishment and a touch of relief in his voice. He let out a joyful laugh and clapped his hands together. "I knew you could do it, Boss! Never doubted you for a moment!"

"Don't get too excited," Adrien cautioned him. "It's an example of complete insanity, even by my standards."

"How crazy are we talking?"

"Well, how does a nighttime slog across the Braxa through two miles of jagged rocks and raging rapids, with only a metal cable for a lifeline strike you?"

Viggo was silent for a long moment. "Okay, that is pretty crazy." He tried to sound casual, but wasn't quite successful; an undercurrent of trepidation laced his words.

"Trust me, the other ideas I had make this one seem tame," said Adrien. "But that's neither here nor there; right now, we need to get everyone who is still healthy enough ready to move."

There was no need to inform Viggo what would happen to those who weren't healthy. It was made abundantly clear in his grim expression that he already knew. Together, they headed over to where the remnants of Adrien's company were housed. They received the return of their captain with a mixture of disbelief and almost tearful gratitude. After they had finished expressing themselves, Adrien began his inspection.

To his great relief, almost all of his troops were still in good enough shape to travel. He was doubly pleased that Siros was among them; he'd been a stellar First Lieutenant and Adrien would have hated to have left him behind.

Unfortunately, a few were in too poor of shape to make the crossing. One soldier had a sprained ankle from a fall, bad enough that she couldn't put any weight on it. Another was suffering from an infected cut which had given him a fever and severe fatigue. Those two, however, were far preferable to what the last one had; according the company's medic, he'd had the supreme bad luck of getting infested by some stomach worms. In normal circumstances, they'd be killed off by a regimen of antiparasitic drugs, but the entire supply was long gone and so the worms had multiplied exponentially. Just looking at the poor Turian's distended abdomen was enough to make Adrien feel sick.

Though it pained him, Adrien was forced to leave them where they were. He did his best to comfort them with the assurance that they would be well-treated by the humans. If anything, them falling into the Federation's hands was a mercy; if their medical technology was half as good as rumored, they'd fix them all up in no time. Even so, the guilt he felt at leaving his troops weighed heavily on his mind.

About an hour later, everyone that was fit enough filed out of the bunker complex. Their movement was quiet and furtive, crouched low as they weaved through broken buildings and rocky terrain. Many heads cast anxious looks to the sky, as though expecting human mecha or Engels to come crashing down in their midst. Adrien was not ashamed to admit that his gaze went skyward more than a few times.

After what felt like hours, they reached the crossing area. Even in the dark, Adrien could see the frothing white waves of the rapids. The roar of the rushing water was louder than he had expected, drowning out all other sounds. Jagged rocks stuck out from the entire width of the river like giant spearheads.

Two miles of this, Adrien thought as he gave an involuntary swallow. He ran some quick calculations in his head. It took about forty standard minutes for someone to walk that distance, and that was under optimal conditions. These rapids were anything but optimal and even with their conditioning, fording them would be slow going for the Turians; it would easily take hours, perhaps even days for everyone to make it across.

Spirits, I really must be crazy.

Colonel Tarkin stood near the riverbank, observing the rapids with a sober gaze. He was likely thinking the same thing Adrien was, but it made no difference; this was the path he had committed to, and he was going to follow through.

Tarkin looked over at the Turians he had selected for the first part of the mission. They were all hard-bitten Digeris veterans, their weathered faces almost mechanically stoic. Two of them carried the coiled-up metal cable that would serve as the lifeline for everyone else. Despite knowing what was expected of them, they showed no fear; or perhaps they simply couldn't muster up the effort to care.

Tarkin gave them a single nod and without a word, they went to work. First, they secured one end of the line to a massive tree, easily fifty feet tall and boasting a trunk wider than a Turian's wingspan. They grunted with the effort, tugging with all their might on the cable until it was biting into the tree's bark.

Once they were satisfied that the line was properly set, one of them took the other end and wrapped it around his waist. He then latched his helmet on and, without even a moment's hesitation, waded into the frothing water. The other Turians followed in after him, picking up the slack as they began the perilous journey.

Tarkin sidled up to Adrien, looking both apprehensive and cautiously hopeful. "I guess now we'll see if this mad idea of yours is actually possible."

Adrien nodded absently as he watched the two Turians continue their trek across the rapids. Eventually, they disappeared into the darkness; the only thing that proved they were still going on was the cable that slithered after them.

The minutes ticked by with agonizing lethargy and Adrien struggled to keep his nerves in check. His gaze was riveted to the pile of cable as it slowly uncoiled into the rapids, willing it to go faster. He knew that they were painfully exposed out here; at any moment, a human recon mech could spot them and that would be the end of their escape attempt.

Eventually, the line went taut and a silence so complete that it was almost a physical thing fell over the Turians. Adrien held his breath, hardly daring to hope that everything had gone as planned. Several more minutes crept by, until another Turian, who had been standing by as a communication liaison, looked over at Tarkin and gave a nod.

"They made it. We're good to go."

All around, Turians let out relieved sighs. Adrien was not ashamed to admit that he was among them. The first part of his insane plan was a success. Now, all that was need was to get everyone else across without any human forces spotting them. Easy as Asari fruit pies.

Tarkin immediately got down to business, barking out orders for everyone to make ready to cross. Those that hadn't already began snapping their helmets on and formed up into groups. Adrien volunteered to be the first one in, so naturally, the remnants of his company wanted to go with him. He stood at the river's edge, looking down at the frothing water as though it were radioactive waste.

I guess now we'll see if the first ones were just a fluke, thought Adrien dourly. He grabbed hold of the line, sucked in a deep breath, and stepped in.

The force of the current nearly swept his feet out from under him. He tightened his grip on the cable until his fingers hurt. Once he was certain he'd gotten a relatively decent footing, Adrien began the long trudge across the river, keeping the line under his arm for a better grip.

The journey soon proved to be every bit as hard and treacherous as Adrien had imagined. Unable to see where he was stepping, he had to feel around for any loose rocks or clefts in the riverbed before moving forward; even then, he lost his footing several times and only the cable saved him. All the while, the rapids battered against him, seeming to be doing their utmost to wash him away.

Tarkin hadn't been kidding when he said the water would be freezing, either. Adrien could feel the cold biting at his lower half like a hungry varren; if it wasn't for his armor, he'd probably be numb from the waist down by now.

Gritting his teeth against the onslaught of frigid water, Adrien trudged on, half-walking and half-pulling himself through the rapids. It was tiring work and he soon found himself repeating a silent mantra: another step, another step. He had to keep going; that was all that mattered right now.

Then, at long last, he spied the other side of the river. The Turians who had gone before were standing on the muddy bank, hands outstretched to pull them in. Adrien pushed forward, feeling the rocky bottom turn soft and sucked at his feet. He reached out with a trembling hand and one of them caught it, hauling him onto dry land where he fell onto his knees, panting and trembling.

After a few minutes, Adrien managed to recover enough to turn over into a sitting position. He saw that the remnants of his company were clambering up onto the grassy patch of ground, look as exhausted as he felt, but no one had been lost in the crossing. The first real push to ford the river had been a success.

Despite this, a feeling that something bad was coming their way began to grow in his gut. Adrien stole a glance up at the sky; he couldn't see any human scout mechas and he didn't hear anything aside from whatever ambient sounds weren't drowned out by the rapids.

A little while later, the next group made it across. Tarkin was among them and after shaking off the muck he'd picked up on his slog, he went over to Adrien, a crooked grin on his face.

"Well, I have to hand it to you, Captain; I honestly didn't think this would work, but here we are," he said, gesturing around at the riverbank that was slowly being filled with Turians. "You must have some very powerful and sympathetic Spirits watching over you."

"We're not in the clear yet," said Adrien. His attempts to assuage his fears had done no good; in fact, the sense of foreboding had only metastasized within him. He was almost starting to feel physically ill.

"No, we're not," Tarkin agreed. "Shit, with how well things have gone so far, I keep thinking that something is about to go wrong."

"My thoughts exactly," Adrien said grimly. "I don't like it. After having us dancing to their tune for pretty much the whole time they've been here, I just can't believe that the humans are sitting around on their asses while we escape out from under their noses."

Tarkin shrugged. "Maybe that's exactly why: they've grown so used to being in control that they've started to get sloppy. Spirits know, I'm not going to complain."

"I hope that's the case," said Adrien soberly. He went over to a nearby boulder and leaned against it, looking on as more Turians reached the shore.

Hours passed, and the riverbank gradually filled up with the Coryza garrison. Still, there was no sign that the humans were aware of their activity. Near as he could tell, the Federation had no idea what was going on; maybe they really had caught them unawares.

Just as he was about to relax, Adrien suddenly noticed was that there were no more Turians coming in from the river. A quick look around told him that there was barely a quarter of the garrison present; there was still far more that needed to make it across. Alarm bells began ringing in his head and he leapt to his feet, peering out into the darkness to see what was the matter.

Then, it happened.

The only warning came from the nearby forest, where its trees began to sway and creak violently. Before anyone could even ask what was going on, the reason behind the sudden commotion made itself known, and Adrien's worst fears became real.

Like a scene straight from a nightmare, Engels stepped out from the forest. There was at least a dozen of them, each one standing at least thirty feet or more. Trees toppled with thunderous crashes as their massive bulks pushed through them. They stomped towards the Turians, their immense footfalls shaking the ground like a localized earthquake. Nephilim scurried underfoot, snarling, growling and chittering in a great cacophony.

Mecha followed in their wake, both the hulking titans and the smaller power-armored variants. Several tanks and other armored vehicles rumbled alongside them. Human soldiers brought up the rear, weapons aimed and ready for battle.

A commotion came from behind Adrien, and he spun around to see another terrible sight. More human mecha were rising up from the Braxa's depths like the sea demons of ancient lore. Among there number were more Engels, all of whom had been clearly designed to operate in deep water.

Within moments, the army of war machines, bioengineered monsters and human troops had surrounded the Turians. Adrien felt a cold pit of despair fill his stomach as he gazed out at the horde. The situation was hopeless; even if they hadn't all been weak from hunger and exhausted from their slog across the river, there was no way they could have faced off against such a force.

We failed, Adrien thought bitterly. He supposed that would teach him to have hope.

His feelings were clearly shared by the rest of the Turians. No one had even bothered to try and take cover; they just stared out at the army before them with despondent eyes. There was no point in fighting, not against that. All they could do was await their fate.

For a long moment, nothing happened. The Federation's forces stayed where they were, keeping an eye on the Turians, but otherwise remained motionless. Then, one of the armored vehicles slowly trundled forward, stopping when it was about halfway between both sides. The back end opened up and two individuals stepped out, one male, one female.

When Adrien saw them, his despair was replaced by surprise and confusion. One of the pair was a human officer, a very high ranking one by the look of it. He wore a peaked hat and a well-pressed uniform, over which he wore a long, heavy coat. However, it was the female with him that had Adrien's undivided attention, because she was not human.

She was Turian.

Adrien had no idea who she was, but at a glance, he could tell that she was also a high-ranking military officer, possibly a general. She moved a few strides away from the human and gazed around at the mass of stunned soldiers, all of whom looked as confused as Adrien felt. She looked tired, defeated, but also resolute and determined.

Tarkin strode hastily forward to meet her. "General Orinia, ma'am!" he said snapping a quick salute.

"As you were, Colonel," the general replied, returning the salute. She sounded as tired as she looked.

Tarkin stood before her, his mismatched eyes wide with bewilderment. "General, what the hell's going on?"

"What's going on, Colonel, is that the battle for Digeris has ended," Orinia informed him.

Tarkin blinked and shook his head, his expression saying that he was sure that he had heard wrong. "What…what do you mean?"

"I mean exactly that," Orinia said firmly. "As of three standard hours ago, I officially surrendered Digeris on behalf of the remaining citizen government to the Federation. The planet is theirs, now."

Tarkin took an involuntary step backwards, as though he'd been physically struck. "But…how…why…?" He struggled for words, gesticulating aimlessly.

"Because we all agree that there is no point in continuing to fight; all it would do is kill more Turians," said Orinia, her tone dejected but unyielding. "Too many have died over this world. I'm not going to keep throwing away lives for a hopeless cause." She gestured behind her at the human officer.

"You and your troops will be remanded to the custody of General Ashburn for processing." A glare flashed across her face when Tarkin looked like he was about to object. "That is a direct order, Colonel. You will all give him your full cooperation."

The human straightened up, clicking his heels together. "You have my word that your soldiers will be treated well, Colonel."

Tarkin looked as if he wanted to scream at the heavens, but the composure he'd possessed throughout the time Adrien had known him prevailed. With stoic acceptance, he stood at attention and nodded wordlessly. Orinia nodded back gratefully, staring at him with sympathetic eyes.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. You and your soldiers have all done yourselves proud, beyond what even our standards demand. But there's been enough bloodshed. It's over now."

It's over now.

Those three words echoed in Adrien's mind as he stood there. This was it; the Federation had won on Digeris. Everything he had done to get to this point, securing his release from Camp Horton, formulating the plan to ford the Braxa …it had all come to nothing. He might as well have stayed at the POW camp for all the good he had done.

To his surprise, he found that he wasn't displeased by the sudden turn of fate. By all rights, he should be feeling anguish, self-loathing, even resentment towards the humans who had beaten the Hierarchy and by extension, himself. Instead, he only felt relief that the entire ordeal was effectively over. No more huddling in cramped and filthy bunkers, no more starvation rations, no more worrying about whether or not he would live to see another day.

Absurdly, the one thought that stood out in his head was the hope that his bunk back at Camp Horton hadn't been taken.