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Post by Maelstrom on Apr 27, 2014 0:15:05 GMT -6
"Stay in formation," Maelstrom called to the drop-ship to the Vengeance's port.
Blood Pact were good fighters but poor strategists. It was a matter somewhat complicated by the fact that krogan did not care for taking orders. So long as they got the job done, though, he would be pleased.
The Vengeance was filled with krogan and vorcha. They even had a batarian engineer with them, which Maelstrom found a little odd. Then again, since the events on Barce, he felt more comfortable with the often-standoffish race. Unfortunately, this particular batarian seemed to be holding grudges of his own, barely even speaking to him.
"Emily, confirm initial readings," Maelstrom ordered.
There was a brief pause before her warm and silky-smooth voice replied through his helmet's comms, "Confirmed, Maelstrom. I'm reading no evidence of any sensor activity or comms traffic. The base appears to be operating in a complete blackout."
Maelstrom did not like the situation. Thought faint, easily overlooked, he and Emily were usually able to pick up some kind of emissions with their familiarity with Cerberus technology and security protocols. On this mission, though, even from such low orbit, they could find nothing.
The mission seemed off from the start, though. The information come from the Shadow Broker at no charge. This time, rather than being the employer, he was the employee. The deal was that he lead these Blood Pack mercs as their commander in exchange for forwarding all the info he gleaned to the Broker. It was not an arrangement he was particularly fond of, but the Broker sounded troubled when they last talked. Normally, the mysterious figure would have tried to sell him the data and let him keep whatever he found, but this time, the Broker was so disturbed by whatever their source revealed that it was deemed necessary that the Broker receive a copy of all data.
"We're on final approach," Maelstrom said, as they cleared the cloud layer.
He had not bothered trying to take the Blood Pack through a stealth approach. Krogan, as a rule, were not skilled at being stealthy. Better to do what they always did best. Break down the front door. And with the Vengeance's emissions dispersal online, he was confident that his own shuttle wouldn't be taken out.
Maelstrom could just spot the base in the distance, built into the side of an extinct volcano, one of a rather impressive range of the phenomena. All that was visible was a small portion of the entrance and a mid-sized landing pad. The unique combinations of metals and minerals deposited in the eruptions made scanning a near impossibility unless one knew exactly where to look. Without such exact coordinates, he could have known there was a base on the planet and spent more than a month looking for it.
He marveled at the landscape. Evidence of its violent volcanic past was almost nonexistent, save on the faces of the great stone witnesses rising almost a mile above the rest of the landscape. In the valleys below, glaciers were the force behind the ever-changing landscape.
Thankfully, his scans confirmed what the Broker initially told him. Earth-like atmosphere. Temperature uncomfortably frigid but not immediately life-threatening.
He felt somewhat surprised, as his shuttle and trio of drop-ships grew closer, that no anti-aircraft defenses had targeted the group yet. In some ways, that almost felt more threatening than a target lock would have. His sense of foreboding only intensified as they grew nearer and nearer.
Maelstrom kept his finger hovering over the weapons triggers on his ship, though he saw no evidence of any recent visitors. Even the base's shuttle, the same class as the Vengeance, unless he was mistaken, was covered in significant snow drifts. The base looked absolutely dead.
Damn it. What's the Broker sent me on this time? he asked himself.
"Keep us steady, Emily," Maelstrom urged, leaving the controls to his trusted VI.
"Certainly, Maelstrom," she replied.
Despite his confidence in the program's piloting ability, he still took one of the railings, as he walked back to the main compartment, where more than a dozen krogan and vorcha tried to look their most menacing in a bid to get just a little more elbow room from their peers. Amusingly, the batarian engineer was being given more space than even the most grumpy-looking krogan.
"Listen up," he commanded to his team, "we've seen no traces of any hostiles on the ground. We're actually going to set down this time. Understood?"
A chorus of grunts signaled back.
"Touchdown in ten," Emily started.
Each of the mercs was on their feet before she hit "five." When they set down and the hatch opened, it was all Maelstrom could do to keep his ground as all the krogan and vorcha spilled out of the craft in a dead charge.
To his credit, the batarian hung back. "Where do you want me?"
"Let's check out this shuttle first," Maelstrom said, jumping gingerly from his craft and making his way through the ankle-deep snow. "I have a feeling we've stumbled upon another dead outpost, here, and these shuttle logs might give us a clue what happened."
With a wave of his omni-tool, the craft opened up. He was immediately glad for his habit of wearing helmets in combat situations regardless of the atmosphere. Several bodies littered the interior of the craft, bloated until near bursting and then frozen solid. He could only imagine that the shuttle's systems kept them warm long enough to rot but that they then failed, leaving the bodies to the planet's ice-cold temperatures.
Surprisingly, despite not wearing his helmet, the batarian seemed relatively unaffected by the stench.
Then Maelstrom's eyes caught a glimpse of a treasure beyond his wildest imagination. A turret, just like the ones the Vengeance had originally. Like his own shuttle, this craft appeared to have been outfitted with two, but the one on the opposite side of the craft was smashed to pieces for some reason. The one nearer to him, though, looked perfectly intact.
"Start here," Maelstrom commanded. "See if you can bring up some data about what killed these men. Then download the memory core. Be sure to take appropriate antivirus measures. When you're done with that, get that turret into my shuttle. I don't care what else might be happening on this mission, I want this turret installed on my shuttle ASAP."
With that, he started walking away, towards the entrance.
"I didn't come here to do your looting for you," the batarian called after him in a gruff voice.
"This base has gone dark for some reason. I don't know what that reason is, but I want a turret ready to deal with it in case we find out. Now that's an order. You don't want me telling the Broker that you disappointed us."
The batarian grumbled but got straight to work.
A large explosion shook the platform, followed by a chorus of krogan and vorcha hooting and hollering. Opening his comms to the Blood Pack's commanding officer, Maelstrom said, "Report."
"We just unlocked the door," the ancient krogan, Ganar Jul, responded in a gravelly tone.
Maelstrom sighed and nodded his head, as he watched the mercenary band flood into the base. Once inside, he was pleased to find that their initial rowdiness was subsiding and being replaced with professionalism. Teams of six, two krogan and four vorcha, quickly formed up and started sweeping through the base.
Everything was dark, not even emergency lighting operational. The night-vision filter on his visor was very welcome, especially as it automatically adjusted for the lights most members of the raiding party were activating at the ends of their weapons. The programming was extraordinary, even adjusting the feed to give him accurate colors for objects as he got closer to them or as one of the advance teams shone their lights on objects.
For his part, Maelstrom had Jul for company. He knew from talking with the aged krogan that he was a biotic vanguard, though far enough along in years that many of the younger members of his race questioned his courage and his ability to fight. Maelstrom, for some reason, doubted neither, and he thought it was more than just the krogan's imposing three meters of height.
Perhaps, he thought, it had something to do with the quieter way of elderly krogan. Bluster was just fine for someone eager to make their mark, but there was a quiet strength to veterans like Jul. Maelstrom felt certain he would never forget the old man, if for nothing else than the rather purple coloration of his plates and the more orange than usual skin-tone of the rest of him.
As they started down the main hallway, several dozen yards behind one of the forward teams, Maelstrom held his SMG in his right hand and flexed the joints of his armor. He was still getting used to the new suit. Despite all the custom work that was done to it and how perfectly it fit him, the armor still did not feel quite like it was his. It was comfortable enough. And he knew its combat performance was, at least on paper, exemplary. He supposed it was a psychological thing. Apparently, painting it black and adding his trademark ghastly smile and single red eye to the helmet was not enough to convince him that it fit him quite right.
"New suit of armor?" Jul asked on a private channel.
"Yeah," Maelstrom replied. "Custom job on some loot I took off a group of Collectors."
The krogan grunted approvingly. "Worthy enemies. Fought them once myself. Have a head decorating my room back at headquarters." He hefted his Claymore shotgun. "I prefer this gun, but I carry one of their submachine guns for backup. Damned things don't run out of ammo. That can be handy in a fight."
Maelstrom smiled behind his mask. "I've been carrying one myself since that mission. I almost ran out of ammunition on that run. Damned scary."
"Could have always used your biotics," Jul commented.
"Eh, I was up against a pretty nasty armored vehicle of sorts," Maelstrom said.
Jul grunted. "Sounds like a good fight."
Maelstrom nodded, allowing himself a moment of nostalgia. "Yeah. Good crew, too." Maybe I'll meet back up with them someday.
"Got something strange up here you might want to look at," one of the forward team leads called.
Maelstrom increased his pace until he was in the room indicated. There was a frozen Cerberus corpse in the room, but that was not the interesting part. There was a terminal next to what appeared to be a large in-ground pool. A helmet with a bundle of wires secured to a breathing tube sat next to the pit. Around the neck were seals to keep it airtight and in place. Next to it were a number of electrodes. The hookups for them all appeared to be somewhere in the pool, which appeared to have the ability to close off from the rest of the room. On a hunch, Maelstrom knelt next to it and dipped is finger into the substance it contained. Rather than water, he found a familiar form-fitting gel.
He stood up with a start and turned on his heel, ready to leave the room. Only then did he realize that a light over the door was on.
Nodding at the light, he asked one of the Blood Pack, "Was it like this when you entered the room?"
"No," one of them said. "Grom tried to turn on the lights when he came in. Never was too bright, trying to turn on the lights in a dead base. What do you know, though. This time, his stupidity paid off."
Maelstrom looked to Jul. The expression on the older krogan's face told Maelstrom that he understood the significance of that fact too. He tapped a control on his omni-tool, speaking to the entire band. "Listen up, dumbasses! This base isn't dead. Someone turned everything off, which probably means they're still here. Keep sharp!"
Maelstrom strode out of the room, feeling a sudden need to find a terminal with a high security clearance. The other Blood Pack team followed him, doing quick sweeps of the rooms he passed by. He almost tripped over his own two feet when he glimpsed a round white room with a single fixture in the center of the room for waste disposal and a two-foot ledge running the perimeter. But he kept on.
Every so often, they passed another Cerberus corpse. There were scorch marks and bullet holes on the walls. None of the bodies had weapons near them, though.
Then Maelstrom saw the lab. He entered it with an almost reverential caution. Jul was the only one who followed him inside, the rest taking up positions outside the door. This is where the worst of the pain and terror had been, and lying all around the room were corpses in lab coats. He wondered if he would have recognized their voices if they spoke. It was almost enough to make him scream out loud. Their blood was supposed to belong to him, and someone else had stolen their deaths from him.
He was so upset that he almost missed the fact that there were two operating tables in the room now instead of one.
Forcing down his emotions, he walked up to one of the terminals and activated it. He first searched for his name, his old name. Sure enough, he found it in the records.
Next, he searched for more recent projects, using the personal codes of one of the men lying near him. The last entries appeared to be related to a project known as "Third Day." The notes were somewhat technical, so he opened up the related video files. What he saw shocked him, even for a Cerberus op.
On the video, there were two bodies lying on their operating tables. One was outfitted in battered Alliance armor, with fatal wounds evident. The other was metallic. It almost appeared geth, with metallic muscle fibers. Its cranial structure was higher than a geth's, and, aside from the lack of a nose and the unique arrangement of "eyes," one large central one and a smaller one to either side, it the head almost resembled a skull.
What both bodies had in common was that the skulls were opened. Very carefully, and with mechanical assistance, the scientists removed the brain from the Alliance soldier and transplanted it into the metallic body. He fast-forwarded through the surgery, watching in seconds the hours they spent connecting the nerve fibers to the correct data ports on the machine.
At the end of the surgery and several minutes of tweaking the unit's power supply, the robot sat up. They ran it through a number of drills, confirming its motor control and its understanding of human speech. It was a truly chilling sight to see.
There was another video file connected to it, a researcher note. As Maelstrom set his omni-tool to download the entire database, he played the file.
"All twelve of the dead soldiers' brains have been installed in unique mobile platforms, each tailored to the tactical strengths of the subject prior to death. Based on the combat simulations we've hooked them up to, each unit is quite capable, however their effectiveness is magnified exponentially when used in concert with one another."
"We have also found that, when hooked up to the computer systems in the mobile platforms, the processing speeds of the subjects' brains increases significantly, as the entirety of the organ is utilized. To take full advantage of this fact, we have slaved ten standard combat mechs to each unit. When under immediate command of our cybernetic units, the mechs are rendered considerably more capable."
"It is this installation's recommendation that these units be deployed in a combat situation for a full assessment of their abilities. If successful, such units could quickly replace our standard security forces in front-line operations."
Maelstrom found another video file. The last on record.
Scientists mulled about the room. One of the units, the one from the first video, lay on the table. Its black armor was damaged in several places.
The lead scientist talked, as he gathered several instruments. "The unit leader, also known as Subject Alpha, was critically injured in a live-fire exercise today, when Big Boy, Subject Ten, used his missile launcher to bring down an overhanging stone ledge. Subject Alpha's control circuits were damaged in the rockslide. The short also affected the area of the brain to which the control circuitry is attached. Therefore, we have no other option than to deactivate the unit."
A door hissed open.
The lead scientist looked up. "Subject Two, Subject Seven, what are you doing here?"
One of the units, composed of black armor and holding a pair of energy swords, cocked its head. "What are you doing to Subject Alpha?" its low mechanical voice asked.
"Subject Alpha needs to be deactivated. Now return to your recharge station. That's an order," the scientist said.
The black unit turned to look at the other, a rather slender white platform. There were blades along its forearms and shins, as well as others protruding from its spine, knees, and elbows. It appeared to have some sort of energy weapon affixed to its head. The white unit looked to the black one. "Programming directive zero one. 'No man is left behind.'"
"That was not something we pro..." the lead scientist started before a look of sheer horror came to his face.
The black unit nodded, then burst forward in a blur of motion. Almost before he could register what was happening, the black unit had driven both its swords through the lead scientist's heart and was freeing the blades. The other unit was darting about the room, sometimes even taking to the walls like an insect. Each time it leapt, its blades sliced through flesh, sending sprays of blood everywhere.
One of the scientists made it to the terminal Maelstrom was standing at. "The remote deactivation isn't working!"
Another unit, outfitted with orange armor, strode into the room. It was working its omni-tool. "Jamming signal successfully in place."
It was only a matter of seconds before the last scientist fell.
The orange unit walked up to the white one. "Subject Two, what are my orders?"
"Subject Six, Subject Alpha is unconscious and damaged. Make repairs. The rest of the unit will secure the facility," the white unit replied.
With a curt nod, the orange unit, Subject Six, said, "Understood."
"This is team Kyrshyn," one of the krogan called over the radio, "we've lost two of our vorcha. With the first one, I thought he'd just gone off somewhere to take a piss, but the second is a pretty up-tight guy when it comes to orders. He wouldn't just go off."
"Jul," Maelstrom ordered, "get everyone back to the landing zone now."
"What about the orders from the Shadow Broker?" the old man asked, almost offended.
"I'm like you, Jul. When I take a contract, I complete it. Hopefully, though, these things will go after the teams if they retreat. That downed shuttle proves they don't want anyone getting away. If your men can hold their attention there, then the two of us and our escorts may be able to get to the central data core."
Jul grinned at the suggestion. For what was probably the first time in ages, someone was appraising him as worthy of heading into the most dangerous part of a mission. This was the sort of thing a krogan like him lived for.
Without any hesitation, Jul called up the appropriate channel on his omni-tool and said, "Everyone, fall back to the drop-ships and protect them with your lives. Make a lot of noise on your way out. Lots gunshots, fire, and explosions. We want these bastards to chase you all the way out of here."
The four vorcha with their group started to head for the entrance.
"Not you morons!" he chided. "You're coming with us, into the heart of Hell!"
Oddly, the vorcha seemed pleased by the news, filling the room with hissy cheers. The two other krogan with them seemed equally enthusiastic, checking their weapons.
Only a moment later, the first of the explosions rumbled through the base, followed with the sound of countless shots being fired. Maelstrom turned back to the terminal he was at, quickly bringing up a schematic of the base by using one of the high-level access codes he remembered from the scientists. He imagined they probably belonged to one of the corpses at his feet. The control room was deep inside the base, a significant walk. Maelstrom wondered for a moment if it might be prudent to call for another unit as backup.
Then the screaming started.
"Captain! There are hundreds of mechs swarming us, but they're moving like trained soldiers! There's something else here too. Some sort of prototype mechs. They're armed to the teeth and move like nothing we've ever seen! The vorcha are getting torn to shreds. Orders?"
"Pull yourself together! You're Blood Pack! If you let bots beat you, I'll kill you myself," Jul growled.
Maelstrom started from the room without another word, and the rest of the team fell in behind him.
"What the hell are we facing, Maelstrom?" Jul demanded. "What's killing my men?"
Maelstrom hated to confess what his own race was capable of. "The best mechs money can buy, driven by the brains of the Alliance's finest."
"Their brains?" the aged krogan asked. "Damn. This Cerberus you people have is into some perverted shit, human."
"Don't I know it," he sighed under his breath. A thought occurring to him, Maelstrom said, "Emily, put yourself on high alert for any hacking attempts."
"Acknowledged, Maelstrom. I'll do my best to be careful," the VI replied.
Maelstrom stalked through the facility, being as quiet as he could. His right hand held his trusty geth SMG, and his left gripped one of his custom grenades tightly. Those escorting him saw the change in his demeanor and reacted appropriately, cutting out all chatter, holding their weapons at the ready, and methodically sweeping the rooms they passed by.
Where are you, brothers? Maelstrom wondered. Come out, so I can release you from this nightmare.
It was clear by the occasional orders Jul gave out that his men were still communicating with him. Maelstrom guessed the old krogan was using a headset. By the sounds of what he was telling them, the mechs and Blood Pack were about at a standstill at the entrance to the base.
Calling up a direct channel to the batarian engineer, Maelstrom asked, "How's installation of that turret coming?"
The sound of gunfire filled the background as the engineer replied in a grumpy tone, "I'm using the damned thing at the moment."
"Well get someone else on it. I want you to ready that nuke we packed."
"Never thought I'd agree with a damned human on how to best use a nuke," the batarian grumbled. "Copy, I'm on it."
"We're taking a beating out there," Jul grunted. "Hey, I only saw one entrance to this place. How do you expect us to get out with those metal-heads blocking our only exit?"
"My ship has a heavy weapon," Maelstrom said. "Once it's time, I figured I'd order her to..."
A single red light, about six feet in the air, came into view about twenty meters further down the corridor. Then another. And another.
Maelstrom raised his SMG, the light at the end of it illuminating the trio of what appeared to by standard security mechs which had been slightly modified by the addition of extra armor. Rather than the standard issue pistols for such mechs, these carried an assortment of assault rifles and shotguns. A second later, two more joined their companions.
Maelstrom opened fire, aiming for the head of the nearest unit. His weapon was remarkably accurate for a gun of its class, four shots going cleanly through the unit's head before the recoil pulled him off the target. The mech went down.
The other four scrambled for cover, taking to doorways and any other shelter they could find. They moved so fast and with such coordination that the combined fire of the rest of Maelstrom's squad only took down one of them. As soon as they were in cover, they started popping out, taking shots at the team. A couple of the rounds impacted Maelstrom's shields, forcing him to take cover in a room that had not yet been swept for hostiles.
"Programming directive two. Defend your home at all costs," Maelstrom heard a metallic voice call from behind himself.
He whipped around with all the speed he could muster, just in time to see the orange-armored unit raise its omni-tool. It was flanked by a pair of security mechs, which had shotguns pointed at Maelstrom.
Not wasting any time, Maelstrom dove to the side, just in time to avoid a flaming ball of plasma and two shotgun blasts. Without hesitation, he sent the first of his grenades flying at the ground just in front of the three mechs, augmented with a biotic push. The grenade impacted and immediately detonated. Were it not for his helmet's visual and auditory filters, he would have been left dazed by being so close to the explosion. As it was, the shrapnel stripped his shields down to zero.
Maelstrom rose to his feet and centered his SMG on the point of the explosion, which was currently enveloped in a cloud of smoke and dust. It took a couple of seconds to clear, but when it had, he found that both security mechs were reduced to little more than scrap heaps. The prototype unit, Subject Six, if he remembered right, was missing the arm its omni-tool was installed on, as well as one of its legs. An unfamiliar fluid leaked from its damaged abdominal section, and the lights on its photoreceptors were flickering.
"Error. These units were designed to be the perfect soldiers. I cannot die," the unit said.
Maelstrom knelt next to the unit, keeping his SMG leveled at its head. He felt a great deal of pity for the abomination. He wondered how close he himself came to being part of the program. Wanting to give it one more moment as itself, he decided to try something. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Who's like us?"
"Damned few, and they're all dead," the unit replied. Maybe it was just Maelstrom's imagination, but he swore he could hear pride in the metallic voice.
He pulled his trigger and held down for at least a dozen shots. Shards of hot metal and pieces of brain matter sprayed out the top of the unit's head, and a sickly yellow fluid seeped out onto the floor. Pleased to have ended the torment for the creature, Maelstrom stood up and started out of the room. Something strange clicked within him. Stopping, he turned back to the orange unit and saluted, before heading out of the room.
The rest of his squad was pushing steadily forward, though several more mechs appeared to have arrived since they were parted. Jul was at the front, using biotic charge or push to knock enemies from cover, then ripping into them with carnage attacks from his shotgun. The vorcha and other two krogan hung back, none of them being biotics.
Maelstrom started running forward, taking what shots he could with his SMG. Maelstrom suspected that if there were this many mechs present, another of the prototype units would be nearby. Sure enough, just as he reached Jul, two more of the prototype units turned the corner. One was just under two meters in height, wielding two SMG's of a similar design to Maelstrom's own. Its armor was a gray color, and it appeared heavily armored. The other was nearly three meters and looked to have the most sturdy armor of any of them yet. It was colored hot red, like the old fire trucks back on Earth.
Jul charged forward at the red one, heedless of the greater danger these units were. The red one reached an arm forward and blue-hot flames erupted out in a sustained stream. They barely touched the aged krogan, though, as he swiftly batted away the arm with his Claymore once in-range. It tried to bring its other arm to bear, but he head-butted that one.
The gray unit turned its attention to Maelstrom, aiming both of its SMG's at him and pulling the triggers. Knowing the unit would have a very accurate aim, Maelstrom used a trick he rarely did. He slapped both of his forearms together in front of his face, creating a short-lived but powerful biotic barrier. The shots rained down faster and faster as the two weapons wound up, and Maelstrom gritted his teeth at the effort of keeping the barrier up long enough for his plan to work.
The weapons stopped firing only a few seconds later, and Maelstrom knew that the thermal clips had been exhausted. Moving quickly, he released the barrier and unloaded with his own SMG. Rather than dive for cover, the unit advanced on him, letting its impressive shields absorb the staggering volley. Maelstrom strode steadily forward too, watching in amazement as a number of manipulators housed in the armor on the unit's forearms ejected the spent thermal clips and installed fresh new ones.
Just as the manipulators started to close the housings, which would allow the cybernetic foe to fire again, Maelstrom started in with biotic melees. First a biotic punch to each arm, right at the tiny armatures which reloaded the unit's guns. The boom that came from the sudden decompression of air when his punches connected echoed through the room, leaving the tiny reloading mechanisms as little more than twisted pieces of scrap.
The unit quickly discarded the SMGs and, only a few meters away from Maelstrom, drew a pair of Alliance standard-issue knives skillfully concealed in its armor. Knowing his SMG's thermal clip was about spent, Maelstrom stepped forward with his right leg, then pivoted almost 360 degrees. As he did, he bent his left leg and brought it up, perpendicular to the center line of his body. At the last moment, he kicked straight out from himself, focusing his biotic energy along with the kick. Though his foot was still nearly a meter from the mech, the incredibly powerful biotic blast that accompanied it bent the unity nearly in half and sent it reeling backwards almost two meters.
Rather than taking another step forward, Maelstrom rose his left leg back up, kick primed and parallel with his spine. He held it for a moment, then snapped the kick off when the unit raised its head to look at him. The biotic impact from the kick sent the artificial neck back at an angle that would have been fatal to any purely organic being.
Not intending to take any chances, Maelstrom quickly set to reloading his SMG. The new thermal clip popped into place just as the unit reared its head at Maelstrom again. Before he could close the housing, the unit leapt at him, one knife aimed to slide just under his chestplate, the other angled to cut through the neck of his armor. Not having time for anything else, Maelstrom let himself fall backwards, under both of the attacks, simultaneously bringing his legs up and chambering another kick. The mech was fast, though, bringing the knives down, as it prepared to land on top of him. In the end, though, Maelstrom's instincts were better, and he planted both heels, along with a significant biotic impact, straight in the unit's midsection.
The unit impacted the ceiling with enough force to dent the metal and shatter the inactive light fixtures. Maelstrom rolled to the side to avoid being crushed, as the unit crashed back down. He tried to push himself up, to gain an advantage against his foe, but barely had the creature made contact with the ground than it regained its baring and brought the knives to bear again.
Its synthetic muscles tensed, and just as it was about to leap, it was blown off its feet by a close-range shotgun blast. Maelstrom recognized it as a blast from a Graal Spike Thrower, carried by one of the low-ranking krogan on his squad. The force sent it flying nearly a meter. By the time it landed, the other of the two low-ranking krogan stood over it with an AT-12 Raider. After two shots, there was no recognizable head left.
For their parts, the vorcha quickly swarmed the red mech, which Jul was still trading blows with. They tore at it with their omni-blades or hit it with other tech-based attacks, all while Jul kept beating the thing, both with his reinforced fists and with a variety of biotic attacks, into a dented , shapeless hunk of metal. The unit tried to hit the vorcha with its flamethrowers, but they were too fast, dodging this way and that, and Jul was simply staying in too close for it to use its more powerful attacks. Finally, the elderly krogan managed to get the barrel of his shotgun under the mech's chin and shoot it with a carnage attack. What splattered against the ceiling could not even be characterized as chunks, more a goop, liquefied by the force of the blast.
The entire squad, Maelstrom included, took a moment to breathe.
"How much further to that data core?" Jul asked.
"Not far," Maelstrom replied. "Hopefully we'll get there without anymore resistance."
"Huh," the krogan with the Spike Thrower chuckled. "That's likely."
Without another word, Maelstrom started down the corridor. There were two turns along the remaining hundred or so meters, and the squad was surprised not to run into any more of the units. Upon reaching the door, they found it open.
Maelstrom and Jul were the first in, followed by a pair of the vorcha. The others stood guard outside. They quickly scanned the room with their lights. The room was empty, save for the computer core and accompanying terminal. Maelstrom realized as he neared it, though, that something was very wrong with the core.
The black-armored Subject Alpha seemed to be fused to the core, its armor welded to the housing. Its arms had been removed, replaced with a pair of automated turrets. Several tubes ran into its torso from a small device at the base of the core. It appeared to be some sort of life-support system. The unit turned its head to regard the newcomers, but the guns remained pointing off at a wall.
Jul raised his gun to shoot the mech, but Maelstrom put his left hand on the weapon, lowering it. Signaling the krogan and vorcha to stay back, Maelstrom took several steps forward. Beneath his mask, he cringed at the sight and the realization that what lay before him was once a human being.
"You've finally come," the machine said. "I knew someone would come eventually, if I contacted the Broker about this installation."
"You were the Broker's source?" Maelstrom asked, incredulous.
"Yes. And I am the one who requested you be sent," it replied.
"But... why?"
"Because I know who you are," the unit replied. "And, what's more, I know who I am. Or more accurately, what I was."
"How?"
"You accessed the last video log," it replied. Not a question, a statement. "Subject Six was unable to repair my body, and insufficient parts remained to replace it in totality. Instead, as the commanding unit, it was decided I would be patched into the base's mainframe, security cameras, and communications array. This would allow me to effectively lead despite being severely damaged.
"It took months to disable this base's VIs and access all the data here, but once I had, I began to read about our creation. The knowledge jarred what remained of my consciousness. Restored fragments of memory. Allowed me to think more as I once had. Let me hate what I was."
"Then you called us here to destroy you?" Maelstrom asked.
"Yes."
"If you command the others, why not just have them destroy you and themselves?"
Something between a laugh and the scraping of two plates of metal against one another issued forth from the unit. "We are not mere security mechs. Cerberus made us this way to preserve our capacity for independent tactical thought and our survival instincts. If I had ordered the others to destroy themselves, they might have killed me, but they would have continued on.
"We are not just random soldiers, 'Maelstrom.' We were a team. I can't leave my people behind, even if that means killing them."
"Why ask for me? Why not activate the base's self destruct?" Maelstrom asked.
"Because you beat this place once already. Because you've systematically been taking down Cerberus. And because the researchers here tried to activate the self-destruct as they escaped. Six disabled it... permanently."
Maelstrom sighed. "Will you help us kill the other units?"
"I cannot. I have implants preventing me from doing so. I'm afraid I've done all I can."
Raising a data drive isolated from his and Emily's systems, Maelstrom asked, "May I copy the data here?"
There was a click at the terminal next to him. He turned to find a drive, much like the one he held, disengaged from the workstation. His omni-tool scanned it, confirming it was indeed a complete copy of the mainframe's database.
"Now, it's time for you to end this nightmare for me, Maelstrom. I know you understand," Subject Alpha said.
"First, what's your name?" he asked, wanting to give the creature one last bit of peace.
"There were twelve subjects to the experiment. One was a pilot," the mech replied.
"That doesn't tell me..." Maelstrom started, then stopped himself. The last day of his service to the Alliance, he went down with eleven other marines and a pilot, and, to his knowledge, none of them had survived.
"My last order. Give our squad peace..." In a voice so quiet that only Maelstrom could hear, it added, "Jonathan."
He was aghast. For so long, he had taken some peace in his belief that his comrades at least escaped into death, not being put through the kind of torture he was. In fact, theirs was still going on at that very moment. He almost wanted to collapse to his knees and weep for them.
Instead, he pulled himself up straighter and gave a salute. The unit bowed its head in respect, not having a way to return the gesture. With a trembling hand, Maelstrom rose his SMG to his one-time commander's head and pulled the trigger. He held on until the thermal clip was spent.
Without another word, he turned his back on the scene and started reloading his weapon.
"You humans are strange creatures," Jul said.
Maelstrom did not have it in himself to reply, simply starting for the base's sole entrance and exit.
"Emily, ready the Cain Cannon. I'm on my way out, and I'll need you to clear my path."
"I'll be waiting," she replied.
As they navigated the corridors, Maelstrom heard a faint buzzing. With each passing moment, it grew louder and louder. Acting on instinct, he ducked, and three krogan followed his lead. The vorcha did not, though.
A moment later, Maelstrom found himself knocked off his feet, as a body hit him from behind and the buzzing sound passed overhead. He pushed himself back up quickly, just in time to watch a two-and-a-half meter long, roughly triangular craft swing around, so its wide end was facing the group.
The vehicle had a central core that ran horizontally from the front of the craft to its rear point, and to either side of that were was an aerofoil. Two jet thrusters sat on the dorsal rear of the craft, and its ventral section was armed with a grenade launcher on each wing and what appeared to be a chain gun under the center. At the fore of the craft was another of three-eyed skull-like heads.
The pilot, Maelstrom thought.
The chain gun started to wind up, but before it could get a shot off, Jul did a biotic charge. It knocked the craft back, its guns aiming up at the ceiling. Maelstrom pulled out his SMG and ran to get in close, the other two krogan following his lead. The vorcha, on the other hand, were all dead, spines snapped from impact with the craft.
The craft tried to wind up its chain gun again and take them out, but Jul bared his teeth and grabbed the gun, hefting it up over his head. Maelstrom and the others opened fire as soon as they were close enough not to hit Jul. It took several seconds of constant fire to knock out the craft's shields. Once that was done, they all concentrated their fire on the unit's head.
They did not waste any more time on the craft. Instead, they made their way toward the entrance as fast as they could. By the time they were a hundred meters from the doors, they could hear the gunfire being exchanged between the two sides. He made his way back into the lab where he first found out about the experiments being done on his former squad.
"Time to fire, Emily," Maelstrom said.
"Acknowledged. Please, take cover," Emily replied.
A few seconds passed, and the batarian piped in through Maelstrom's comms. "What the hell is going on with your ship? It just started itself up."
"Just making a way out for us," Maelstrom said. "Hold tight, and we'll be back with you in a minute."
Another moment passed, and a great boom roared through the halls. The base shook violently. Once it quieted back down, the cheers of a number of krogan and vorcha could be heard.
Without wasting a moment, Maelstrom started out of the room and toward the exit at a dead run. The others followed behind. The enemy lines were in shambles. Remnants of at least two of the prototypes littered the ground, along with those of dozens of security mechs. Those which were still intact were still reinitializing their sensory systems after the blast overloaded them.
"Everyone, to the ships!" Maelstrom called, as he ran out of the base and back into the light.
The Vengeance was hovering just a couple feet above the landing pad. Off on one corner of the pad, Maelstrom noticed the nuclear bomb they had prepared.
"Emily, set the bomb to a ninety second countdown," Maelstrom commanded.
"That leaves us a very brief window of opportunity to escape," his VI informed him.
"I understand, now do it," Maelstrom commanded, as the mechs finally regained their senses and started firing again.
"Acknowledged," Emily replied.
Maelstrom noticed the batarian was at the turret on the Vengeance again. He had it pointed almost exactly at Maelstrom. Then the gun fired. The shots went just over Maelstrom's shoulder, and he heard the rounds impact metal just behind him. As he jumped up into his shuttle, he turned around to see that the batarian had taken out the white unit with the blades. The man kept firing as the black unit with two swords tried to stab Jul in the back. He was just in time, and Jul boarded the shuttle without ever knowing how close he had come to death.
Maelstrom rushed to the cockpit and took his seat.
"Emily, let me know when the last of our people is in the drop-ships," he commanded.
"Understood," she replied. Several seconds passed before she said, "All surviving parties are aboard their craft."
"Get us out of here, maximum thrust," Maelstrom ordered.
Even with inertial dampeners, Maelstrom felt the ship lurch with the sudden increase in speed. He kept an eye on the readouts and was pleased to find the other three craft making good time, though not match for his shuttle. They would all make it out just fine.
"Emily, rear view," he commanded.
One of the readouts was replaced by view from the aft of the ship. He watched as the volcano shrank to little more than a brown speck behind them. It seemed forever before the ground flashed white. A great mushroom cloud formed over their previous position. Shockwaves shot out in all directions at incredible speed. It did not matter anymore, though; they were already in orbit.
"Emily, set a course for our transport," Maelstrom commanded. He got up and started for the rear compartment, his quarters. "Let me know when we've reached our destination."
"Understood," she said. "How many Cerberus agents did you kill this time?"
He paused at the question. For some reason, he found himself tearing up. He was very glad that he still had his helmet on.
"I didn't kill any this time, Emily," he managed to choke out, before heading back to his room.
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