Garrus Vakarian. Somewhere on a Kig-Yar ship. Unknown point in Slipspace.
My head. I shouldn't have drunk that Ryncol with Wrex. Definitely shouldn't have. Krogan brew their swill from whatever they can find, give it to everyone on a dare, and then laugh at the weakness of others. As if everyone is as tough as a Krogan. Ugh. But that's no reason to give up, right, Garrus? Turians are tougher than Krogan, yeah. It hurts.
Something bright is shining overhead and someone is moving. Hey, there, help me.
"Wrex, tell me, what did you mix in this time? And give me some water. My head..."
Water was given, but the voice didn't sound much like Wrex.
"We aren't in a bar, Vakarian. Come to your senses. We have problems. You took a hit to the head."
The voice was clearly displeased with something. Problems. Right, where was I? Right, we were on a combat mission in Human worlds. And then we were hit, it seems. And why are there problems then? We probably got captured. And they'll stick a pipe up our backside. Or is it us who should? Joker said something like that. Or my thoughts are just confused. I just need to open my eyes and look; maybe it's not that bad.
Opening my eyes and waiting for my vision to focus, I saw an unfamiliar square purple ceiling with glowing lines in the corners. And blue figures around that resolved into Turians. One of the walls is bright blue, flickering. Doesn't look like Human buildings, not at all.
"Where are we?"
There are seven Turians around, maybe six. A space three by four meters, a bit cramped. The Turians sitting there are without armor elements, without chestplates, occasionally other elements. With scorch marks there, clearly damage. But the armor hasn't been removed completely, only external or damaged elements.
"In the brig, Vakarian. We've been captured," said a Turian woman, pointing at the transparent wall.
With some difficulty getting up, I looked there.
Behind the transparent blue wall was a fairly spacious rectangular hall, lined with the same purple tiles. It was darkish. Along the walls were similar niches, closed by blue light; Turian figures were behind it. The hall itself has two interesting elements, actually three. On one side is clearly a door with some inscriptions. Unusual, not rectangular, but more rounded at the top. As if designed for someone tall.
On the other side is a rectangular pedestal, on which hangs some blue hologram with yellow, orange, and red rectangles and circles.
And three lizards with horseshoe-shaped objects and in armor, guards. Definitely not Humans.
One is sitting on the pedestal, the other two are walking along the niches closed by blue light, looking at the prisoners with their elongated heads with small but clearly sharp triangular teeth.
"Is it them who got us? What happened? How long have I been unconscious?"
The Turian woman, quite young, came over and stood nearby.
"A few hours. We were shoved into cells, then some were brought here from other ships. When the command ship was destroyed, we fought the Humans. They held out well, strong. When it was almost over, three large ships with these creatures appeared. The Humans shouted over the comms to wipe navigation data from everything possible. And then these ships simply swept us away, ignoring everything both we and the Humans could do. Even together. We were shoved into cells and here we are."
Suddenly the blue light of the shield flickered when a green flash hit it. The creature on the other side, pointing the horseshoe-shaped object at us, chirped:
"Wa-ta-ta ibu! Waaaart! Waaaaart-taaa!"
It seems they shot at us. But the cell's protection is good enough not to shut down so easily. Or maybe they just didn't want to kill us, only to scare us. Everyone here is a soldier; it's not that simple.
The second lizard, sitting on the pedestal, chirped in its own language.
"Ri-tu-va-ta-raaaat. Taibu Raaaat taa!"
The shooter clicked its teeth at us and slowly continued patrolling.
"Do you understand?" because I don't.
"Translators aren't working," another Turian snapped, "we don't understand each other. They scream and fire at the barrier, we don't understand. And yeah, don't touch your Omni-tool. No need to show it to them."
Wait, they didn't take the Omni-tool? Examining myself, I realized that only the armor plates were stripped from us, and not completely. The Visor was removed from the eye, the outer part of the armor too. But the injector with the regenerant is in place, even if the outer panel is gone. And without it, it might seem like just part of the exoskeleton. The Omni-tool... seems intact; it's small, worn on the arm, and almost doesn't interfere. If you don't know what it is, you won't understand. Hm.
"So, everyone's Omni-tools are intact?" I clarified to the room.
Quieter, so as not to attract unnecessary attention. Omni-tools are something you can even use to fight the enemy. Technical skills, Biotics. A decent bid for an escape.
"Not everyone's, but yes," the Turian woman's smirk turned into a bared-teeth grin, "I even have my cloak left. I haven't seen anything like it on these lizards; I think they just didn't understand what they were dealing with. They found and ripped out the Kinetic Barrier modules from everyone, but that's it. I think they've just never seen armor like this."
This is an opportunity. Not that I wanted to sit in their cage with unclear intentions. I think no one here wants to. Which means we need to organize an escape before they realize what a mistake they've made.
"The only thing is how to deactivate this barrier..."
"See the hologram there?" the Turian woman snapped her fingers, pointing at the lizard sitting at the holopanel, "he's there constantly. That's the control panel itself. They brought food, he opens the cells, three shooters and one brings the food."
She pointed to a pile of rations in the corner.
"Food. Opened, tossed in, closed. Half of us were still lying down then while the regenerant worked. I thought about slipping through under the cloak, but I wasn't sure how to use the panel. Now I understand; we're waiting for the moment. Are you with us?"
It's always like this. Had a nap, and they've already come up with a plan. On the other hand, there's no point in staying here. We are prisoners being taken who knows where. There's only one way: out.
"With you. You bypass the field, knock out the guard, open the cells, and we break through, right?"
She clicked her mandibles.
"Nothing complicated, right? Cover me so they don't see me go into the cloak. Not now, obviously."
In the meantime, there's time to look around. In the brig where we are sitting, there is almost nothing. Bare walls, purple panels, glowing stripes in the corners, which makes the large hall darkish. Except for the pedestal with the hologram, the cells, and the door, there are no other objects at all.
The Turians in the cells communicate with signs; the cell muffles sound quite noticeably. Everyone is also in pieces of armor. If only we knew where these guys put our armor and weapons, but what isn't there, isn't there.
The lizards are interesting. The armor isn't full; only one has a helmet; all have a chestplate, bracers, and armor on their legs too. But the arms above the "elbow" have no armor, nor does the head. The weapons are the same: horseshoe-shaped devices firing green flashes. On one arm is some mechanism; it's unclear what it is.
Nothing like an Omni-tool. Sharp triangular teeth, large eyes, and a fan of feathers or spikes on the back of the head. They talk in clicking sounds. Definitely not Asari. Less bony than Turians, but the skull is clearly skin-covered protruding bone. The legs seem three-toed, with claws. Judging by the fact that everyone's footwear has three metal claws.
Noticing my attention, the lizard at the console tilted its head slightly to the side, took something out of a container, and tossed it into its mouth. Looking closer, I realized those were fingers. Fried. The bastard showed me another one, waved it, and then tossed it into his mouth and began to crunch on it. It seems the other two are jealous of their leader. They glance, but remain silent.
"They eat meat."
The oldest of the captive Turians nodded:
"Yes, that's a hand. Asari or someone similar. A Human, maybe. They like to crunch on fingers. Another reason not to linger here. I think we might turn out to be rations, not prisoners."
A sufficient reason not to stay here. Captivity is already enough of a problem, but being captured as food... And we're flying somewhere. There might be more of these guys there, and then we definitely won't break through. Right now, there's a language barrier and a lack of understanding of each other's capabilities between us. But it won't always be like this; the others say these lizards hauled our gear onto the ships. They'll figure it out. No, the escape must be organized immediately. While they have supplies and haven't started eating the prisoners.
There were several more opportunities to be convinced that it was indeed Human meat. Including when the patrolmen themselves took out a snack from their pouches during a shift. There hasn't been any Turian meat yet; Humans are meatier. I hope our dextro-amino acid meat is poisonous to them and they'll die of poisoning.
In Citadel Space, only Vorcha engage in such things; even Krogan make threats, but as a rule, it's just threats or posturing. Definitely not a crunchy snack you carry with you in a pouch. How ordinary it all looks is truly unsettling. And it adds more and more reasons not to linger here.
***
Quite a lot of time passed before they paid attention to us. Ten hours or so. The lizards managed to change shifts twice, but their appearance and positions didn't change. One on the console, two or three more patrolling. We sleep in turns; two are on duty at the entrance.
Talked a bit with the Turian woman. Vetra Nyx, a scout, twenty-three years old. Like all citizens of the Turian Hierarchy, she entered service at fifteen. She was among the boarders when the lizards attacked, tried to take their ship by storm, and that's how she was captured.
"Well, I was on the bridge of the flagship when it was hit. How I survived, I don't remember. Who pulled me out, I don't remember either."
The Turian woman clicked her jaws.
"I hope they are okay too. And where did you get that scar?"
And she pointed to the right side of my face. Well, I shouldn't tell her about "Archangel"; she won't believe it. Besides, that's the future. But I can tell a little.
"I decided to clear out the crime on Omega. At first, I had a squad, but we were betrayed. Not everyone made it out. The scar remained after a hit from a flyer. I was pulled out, the wound was healed, and I'm back in service."
The girl was impressed.
"And what's your profile?" she asked immediately.
"Sniper. And I'm very good at it. It'll be a bit cramped in these corridors, but I'm just as gentle with assault rifles as I am with women."
She laughed. The others in the cell picked up the chuckles, causing a dissatisfied glare from the guard. But he didn't do anything.
"Garrus!" I was nudged in the shoulder.
Well, what. I didn't lie one bit. Girl...
They like scars. And they seem to have believed the story, partly because of the not-so-happy ending.
"Rise!" one of the patrolmen commanded quietly. Three more lizards entered the room, one carrying boxes of rations in his claws. The others were armed.
"One more time. They'll open the field, throw in the food, and close it. You have to slip through quickly, run to the one at the terminal, knock him out, and let everyone out. We're hiding her so they don't realize she's gone. Questions? No? Let's begin."
When four lizards, besides the deliveryman, approached the door, all the Turians retreated to the far wall, while one transparent shadow pressed into the corner near the entrance.
The lizards aimed their weapons at us; the field vanished. The deliveryman tossed the boxes, after which the field switched back on. But the transparent shadow was already frozen outside. They didn't notice.
The lizards moved to the next cage, while the shadow moved in a wide arc along the wall toward the one fumbling at the terminal, staying out of the line of sight. Well done, exactly right.
The next cell opened just as Vetra Nyx struck the lizard over the head, and he collapsed to the floor, croaking:
"Tahash!"
Then two things happened. The lizards turned toward the sound, and the Turians from that cell rushed them. One lizard, still looking into the cell, managed to fire two shots before being knocked off his feet. The others barely had time to process before they were locked in brutal hand-to-hand combat. The lizards aren't defenseless. The blades on their claws cut and tear flesh perfectly, and they had weapons in their hands.
The day was saved again by the Turian girl, who ignored the downed, head-shaking lizard and pressed the circle, then began tapping the rectangles with symbols in sequence, just as the jailer had done. Cells began to open. Somewhere in the process, a strained hum echoed, and the lights began to blink red. It looked like the alarm had been triggered.
But the cells kept opening; there were few guards and many prisoners.
Shots rang out. The lizard lying on the floor had recovered, pulled a pistol, and pumped several flashes into Vetra Nyx. Then one of the Turians snatched up a guard's weapon, pressed the bracket, and on the third shot, put the last living lizard in the room to rest.
"The alarm is working," I said, looking at the blinking ceiling. "How many did we lose?"
"Four," came the reply from the pile of lizard and Turian bodies, "and two heavy."
Vetra Nyx rose slowly from the floor, so I walked over and offered her a hand.
"I'm fine," the girl snapped, clearly noticing the concern in my eyes. "Hurts like hell, but I had a regenerant. I didn't die, so I'll live."
Excellent.
"Take the weapons and join the first group. Engineers, Shock Troopers, Biotics, Infiltrators. Whoever we have. The rest to the rear, scavenge from the corpses."
Thump-thump-thump groaned the door as it opened. On the other side were two more lizards, holding tower shields made of blue energy. They screamed.
"Uatakan!"
And they started shooting, and we shot back. On the bright side, the hits from those green flashes clearly have decent momentum and throw off their aim. Under heavy fire, one's shield turned yellow, then red, and went out. After that, the lizard was simply swept away by the density of fire. The second one shrieked, covered himself with his shield, and ran back. A glob hit his leg, and the lizard, paws outstretched, sprawled on the floor, where he was riddled with globs until fully toasted.
Sniffing the burnt flesh, I snorted:
"Their weapons roast the meat too. Scumbags."
And we lost another Turian.
Under the steady hum of the alarm, we rushed through the corridors. The ship's population consists entirely of lizards; we don't know the maps, so we had to poke into everything. Some doors glowed red and were locked, only letting lizards through briefly. But we got lucky; three doors later, we found another cell block. Same situation: twelve cells with eight Turians each, four guards. They lasted about five seconds, after which Vetra Nyx ran to open the cells to the joyful shouts of her kin.
Shooting broke out outside.
"Faster, faster. Vanguards, Engineers, Biotics to the front, the rest in the rear! Take the weapons, I'll show you how to use them."
It's a pity their wrist shields don't react to attempts to turn them on; that would have been useful. Right then, the dreadnought's Captain was found.
"Vakarian! Didn't like the accommodations?"
I straightened up like a soldier.
"Yes, Commander. We decided you needed a new ship. Like it?"
The commander looked around as if for the first time and took it in.
"Not bad so far. You'll be the Executive Officer," I nodded, then the commander barked, "Vakarian! Why are there outsiders on my ship?"
I chuckled.
"We'll fix that now, Commander."
Besides the horseshoe-shaped pistols, the enemy uses a weapon that fires pink crystals. If you pepper an enemy with crystals, they break and explode simultaneously in a chain reaction. Quite powerful; fifteen crystals explode like a grenade. We realized this when five infantrymen blew up at once. Not a single one survived.
While winding through the corridors, we found another dozen cell blocks, clearly suggesting they like prisoners here, and most pleasantly, a weapon locker.
I acquired a Sniper Rifle, a "Widow," while the others took whatever they could. We even found an entire armored personnel carrier, and more than one.
"It'll be a bit tight for him in these corridors."
A technician pointed to a massive door.
"What if we try to open these?"
There was a hologram near the door. In the process, the alarm went off again, strange clicks sounded, but finally, the door opened with a hiss.
"Excellent. Now we know how they dragged all this in here."
The situation became easier, but not by much. The APC was blown up two halls later when one of the lizards brought out a grenade launcher firing green crystals. The APC took two hits to the nose, but a strike to the side caused a detonation. The lizards know their ship much better than we do, and there are doors in every direction. If you have four walls and a balcony, there will be at least eight exits, including the stairs to the balcony.
But with every new hall, every liberated cell block, our numbers grew, and so did our weapons. And the lizards quickly retreated into defense.
The next room was likely a hangar. Three floors, wide walkways along the walls; vehicles on the first floor, and on the second, something resembling a two-pronged fork held in magnetic suspensions—two such mechanisms. On the third, another pair. Around the ships were gantries full of the enemy, who had dug in here.
Blam!
A white beam struck a Turian in the chest, and he collapsed to the floor, after which he was promptly dragged back. He's moving; he's alive.
"Sniper!"
Yeah, I'm on it. An attempt to peek out almost ended with my nose shot off.
"I see him, I need a maneuver!"
Especially since, besides the snipers, four more lizards hiding behind crates immediately started blasting into the passage. But that's a matter of technique. Barriers, Overloads, and now Shock Troopers and Biotics are already rushing the crates while I use the Sniper Rifle to pick off the snipers themselves and those who hide poorly. The hangar is big; if I take a position up top, I can take out half of them alone.
The Shock Troopers made it across well enough. One, unfortunately, stayed down, caught in concentrated fire. A second took a sniper shot but went prone behind cover, waiting for the healing to kick in. I successfully killed two snipers; a couple more left. But now we're slightly spread out across the upper level of the hangar, and it's become risky for the snipers sitting on the other side to peek out. One tried, caught a sphere, and levitated into the hangar space, where he fell with a scream. Thirty meters, or thereabouts.
"One sniper left."
This one managed to fire twice more, once successfully, before receiving his portion of tungsten to the head. Good thing they don't have shields.
All this time, a fierce firefight raged in the hangar. Turians, who had grabbed weapons and managed to drag another APC to the lower level, were up against a crowd of lizards who, behind containers, ships, and on stationary turrets, were preventing advancement with a hurricane of fire.
By the way, the outer wall of the hangar is the same blue field as in the cells. Looks like it, at least.
A pair of Shock Troopers reached a turret, and our lives got a bit easier. Unfortunately, not for long; a flash of green energy from a grenade launcher took out both the turret and both soldiers.
On the bright side, we've taken the entire upper level of the hangar and are moving lower. The ability to strike from above nicely negates the lizards' energy tower shields. And we have snipers. Even if nearly twenty soldiers are dead, the lizards have lost at least as many, if not more.
The pink crystal weapons hurt the most. The gantries and walkways are narrow, and if you don't hide in time, you die, and those near you die. Soldiers are dying in groups. As a sniper, I try to pick them off, but I can't always make it in time.
Our last APC exploded; it's just too cramped in the ship's passages. But it managed to reap its harvest; the lizards only survived on the second level. About ten of them, shooters and a grenadier.
The latter was slammed into the wall by a biotic throw just as he fired. The green flash of his shot missed all of us and slammed into the hangar wall, and then I simply finished off the enemy who was stripped of cover. Thanks to the height, their fate was sealed.
The lizards realized this and, losing their own, retreated from the hangar. We can relax a bit while the Shock Troopers continue clearing the corridors.
I walked up to the force field, but there was only blackness on the other side. No space, no planets, nothing.
"And where are we?" Vetra Nyx asked cheerfully. "Determined the coordinates?"
I laughed.
"Need to look around a bit more. I just realized we don't know how to operate any of this."
A hand in the remains of an armored gauntlet dropped onto my shoulder.
"Congratulations, you figured it out. We'll think of something. The main thing is we're free, armed, and ready for a fight."
Shooting broke out behind us, and a report came over the radio:
"Think we found the control center or something."
We ran further. When we arrived, there were no surviving lizards left, only corpses. The Turian bodies were carefully moved to the wall, and the lizards piled in a corner. Weapons for ourselves.
"Does anyone understand anything?" I inquired.
In a square hall was a round pedestal surrounded by nothing but holograms. Life-sized around the pedestal, on the walls above, on terminals. Icons, geometric shapes, inscriptions. The Captain entered, looked around, and stated:
"We need to find the manual."
Fact. We don't even know if this is the bridge or not. And if it is, where.
"Actually, this one looks like a captain."
We looked at the lizard's corpse. Unlike the others, his armor had white-and-gold inlays, there was more armor overall, and the feathers on the back of his head were painted red. Also, his bracers clearly had sturdy plates, and he had weapons in both hands—there they are, lying around. Standard green pistols, but still.
"Or an officer. Vakarian!"
I froze, as did the others.
"Continue the sweep. And find someone who knows how to operate this thing!"
I straightened up. As Shepard used to say: a subordinate should look like a diligent idiot, briskly running to carry out an order.
"Yes, Commander!"
And to Vetra Nyx's giggles, we headed toward the shooting. They're definitely waiting for us there.
***
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