Chapter 11: Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here

Although Bridges had said he was contacting Eric directly, the former soldier apparently did not wish to wait, and began speaking to Bridges directly... right over Morgan's own comm.

She sighed, keeping an arm out in front of her as the soldier spoke into her omni-tool. Part of her wondered if he was doing that on purpose, just to keep her occupied, less she walk off or have the ability to look up any of his half-concealed military code-words he was spewing out about her.

I'm right here...

She may not have known what the terms meant off the top of her head, but that didn't mean she was a complete idiot. For now, she pretended not to notice, but with the mention of someone on the team potentially firing on Bridges, it didn't paint her in the most trustworthy light. Fortunately, she never used a sniper rifle - they were much too large for her, but both Eric and Meldom did... and both of them had been out of her sight for extended periods of time.

When they were finally finished with their conversation, Eric surprisingly seemed to pay her little attention, shifting over to speak to Meldom instead. Morgan moved aside, feeling the weight of the day settling in on her. Murderous Collectors, a complete lack of trust in her team, Iskra's distance, Malik's sudden unwelcome presence, dead bodies everywhere, a potential traitor in their midst, and to top it all off... the strange coding she'd seen within the base itself... The sooner she got out of here the better.

She was trying so hard to focus on what she was going to do once she got back to the Citadel, that she nearly missed Bridges' message through her omni-tool. Her wrist lit up and she tapped it, her attention snapping back to the present.

"I am beginning the hack," Bridges reported calmly. "Morgan, you will be receiving a data feed in ten seconds..."

"On it," Morgan replied, moving away from the others and leaning up against the wall near a terminal so she could better concentrate.

"Data stream sent," Bridges' voice announced a moment later, but as soon as Morgan made the connection, she could tell something was wrong. Not only was the stream not secure, but the cacophony of sounds issuing over Bridges' comm didn't make her feel any better, yet before she could even ask what was happening, the room went dark, the only illumination coming from the weapons around her and her own omni-tool. From somewhere in the darkness, an unfamiliar voice boomed out across the entire cell block.

"Assuming direct control... This form is fragile, but it will serve my purpose. I am the front of the coming storm. The surety of your doom. I am Vanguard."

What the shit is going on?!

Morgan fought against her natural instinct to run. She was not a fighter, not in a direct sense, and her omni-tool was like a torch, marking her as an easy target in the darkness. Information had always been her life, and for her information to get to its intended destination, it always meant she had to be alive to get it there. That included a not-so-organized retreat when the situation required it, but she knew she wouldn't get anywhere fleeing deeper into an unknown base. For now, she was stuck here, and forced herself to focus on the task at hand.

Fortunately, the soldiers around her burst into action, and she crouched down against one wall, hiding herself as much as possible behind a few of the dead bodies as she continued to monitor her connection to Bridges. She knew he was having trouble breaking through - she could see that much with their shared connection, but there was nothing she could do until the defenses had fallen.

She chewed on her lip, explosions ripping through the hall and showering her with shrapnel. The small tech was grateful for her face mask and heavy leather coat, for they at least protected her for the most part. Morgan ducked down as best she could, nearly missing Bridges' voice as it finally replied over the comm.

"Morgan, it is your turn," he whispered.

Shit...

"Here goes nothing," she mumbled, not even sure he could hear her over the din of battle, but she worked as quickly as she could manage, one-handed, since she had to use her omni-tool directly rather than accessing one of the base's consoles. This was hardly the ideal setting for such a complex connection, and she struggled to focus, blocking everything else out around her.

Her blood ran cold as she immediately recognized the machine code as the same she'd spotted hints of earlier, but far more concentrated. This wasn't hacking into the bases' core... this was hacking directly into a... She opened her mouth to shout to Esteban, but was interrupted by some sort of detonation that literally lifted her from her crouched position and send her flying across the corridor and into the wall.

Her small body slammed into the bulkhead, and she felt the unprotected back of her head strict metal, only to bounce off, landing hard on her chest on the ground a moment later. Dazed, the small tech didn't move. The cell block was suddenly strangely quiet and she briefly wondered if she'd lost her hearing when Eric's voice spoke out through the silence.

"Mal... Jonathan, you hear me...? Morgan... Morgan don't go disappearing in front o' me now...! C'mon people, sound off... I think we got 'im..."

Morgan here... she tried to reply, but she wasn't entirely sure she was saying anything out loud. There was blood on the ground beneath her, but she couldn't tell if it was coming from herself or one of the dozens of dead bodies around her. She attempted to push herself back up, but her vision blurred, twisting, and then faded away.

- - -

Morgan stirred an unknown amount of time later, unsure where she was or what was going on. Her head felt like it was splitting open and there were sounds around her, but she was arranged on her back and couldn't see much of anything except the ceiling. All she knew was that her arm ached and felt as though it was pinned under something heavy, the pins and needles at least telling her she was mostly alive. She tried to speak, but burst into a fit of coughing instead which only succeeded in making her head feel about ten-thousand times worse.

The lift surged onward as fast as its drive core could propel it, narrowly avoiding getting singed from the roiling fire that took up the hallway behind it.

"Woo-hoo!" Eric panted from the spike in his adrenaline levels. Still he kept the lift as steady as possible, eyes alternating between the hallways ahead and following the path indicated in his HUD to point Beta. Someone on the flat bed began coughing.

"Wakey, wakey, lazy-bones," Maelstrom taunted.

Eric's eyes were looking ahead of him again.

"Morgan? We could use a hand if ya can spare one," the N7 smirked, anticipating her discovery of where one of her hands was placed. "Uh, Mal? Road block."

Maelstrom quickly dispatched a lone Collector out in front of them. It fell to the wayside as Eric swerved around it.

"Still trouble, and we need all guns on-target."

"Sorry, Mal! I need both hands on this thing!" said Eric, leaning and holding on tight with his free hand as the lift rounded another corner. "Seriously, Morgan. Need someone ta mind the front. We slam inta anything at this speed and we're toast!"

"Vengeance is five minutes out," Maelstrom announced.

Eric consulted his HUD. "... and I show us about five minutes away from Beta. It's gonna be close."

"Foolish mortals," a menacing voice thundered all around the Collector lift and its passengers.

Nice - Vanguard's usin' the PA system now...

"You fumble in ignorance, incapable of true understanding. There is no escape from what is coming. Evolution is the driving force behind all life, and that which fails to evolve withers and dies. Even your meager science has grasped this fundamental truth, yet you fight the perfection we would bring you."

"We are the Alpha and the Omega!" mocked Eric aloud over his external speakers, not needing the distraction. "We are the Cleansing Fire! We control the horizontal and the verti- oh shut the HELL up you FUCKING... SQUID...! If you guys are so god-damned powerful why do ya hafta come back every thousand years ta fumigate the galaxy?! Ya must be doin' somethin' SERIOUSLY wrong!"

The lift turned another corner into a hallway with a straight path. At its end was another intersection, a contingent of six armed Collectors drones marching into view.

Eric's grip on the steering column tightened.

"Guys?  Ever go bowling..? I need a seven-ten split like now!"

Esteban lept back in the nick of time as the N7 Destroyer stomped the ground. He knew exactly what that powewr armor could do in battllefield conditions. Its stomps unleashes tremors that could easily knock anyone off their feet. He landed by the archway exiting this room, stumbling back into one of the nearby machines the Collectors left. Much to his confusion, it didn't make a sound. Though it could have been drown out by Joseph's yelling.

He pulled his assault rifle from the back holster, cocking it once to decompress it to its full size. Whatever was about to come from any of this, he would be ready.... he was expecting a wave of Collectors crashing through the doorways, or maybe a small herd of Scions rushing in... or worse, another one of those floating monstrosities. 

What he got was far worse...

Foolish mortals. You fumble in ignorance, incapable of true understanding. There is no escape from what is coming. Evolution is the driving force behind all life, and that which fails to evolve withers and dies. Even your meager science has grasped this fundamental truth, yet you fight the perfection we would bring you.

The voice... he never heard anything like it. Esteban froze, mid-step. He could feel that voice reverberate in every cell of his body. He could not explain why, or how that was possible. It wasn't. He knew that. That was what snapped him out of his frozen states, looking over at Joseph standing there.... somehow looking far more dangerous, if that were possible.

"Joseph! Karn!" Esteban bellowed through his suit's external speakers. "We need to get moving. We have to..."

The foolish religions your races cling to offer the promise of eternal life and understanding, and you chase after them in vain. We are the only path that leads to this end, yet you reject our offering. You choose the path of death.

Each word hit like a blast from a railgun, tearing him apart. That was the only way he could conceptualize it....

"We have to meet up with the rest of them," he shouted as confidently as he could. "Kill everything in our way. We need to move out. Now!"

Esteban had his VI analyze the route Joseph mapped out, plotting what was probably the most effective route. He had other issues to think about right now. Joseph was attempting to pick a fight against something that sounded like some Lovecraftian god. The Engineer didn't understand how the former N7 could flippantly dismiss what had to be the most disturbing voice he ever heard in his life.

"Joseph," Esteban said through his helmet's speakers clearly and calmly. "There is no benefit to this. We need to move." Esteban did not know if that voice even heard Joseph, or if it cared if it did. Would a giant care if a bacteria cried out? "Stop trying to antagonize the devil and move, soldier. We do not stop inside the enemy base. Ever."

Esteban kept his focus on Joseph, seeing Karn at the edges of his vision. He had no intention of looking around what anything else here out of concern that he might get distracted too. He could not help anyone here. He doubted anyone could....

Maelstrom returned his assault rifle to his back, then took up his Cerberus-modified Geth SMG.  As they sped through the hallways on the lift, Maelstrom took down more Collectors than he could count.  They were past the point where they were just running into a couple Collectors here and there.  Their forces were massing, trying to block their way to the docking bay.  It was almost as though Vanguard's words had rallied the troops, though Maelstrom doubted the Collectors were capable of any such passions.

The closer they got, the more difficult the situation became.  Dozens of scions and praetorians began swarming the halls, and the anti-grav sled was their only real advantage, allowing them to swerve down myriad twists and turns of the base.  Maelstrom was too busy putting down enemies to know if Lysander was sticking to the fastest route or if he was taking detours to avoid the worst of the Collector forces.  Whenever possible, Maelstrom would hit sensitive pieces of equipment, such as plasma conduits, causing explosions to incapacitate their foes or to block off avenues of attack.

Eventually, he was forced to stow his main SMG and switch to his Collector SMG to save thermal clips.   He was still trying to conserve his grenades, fearing what they might find when they reached the docking bay or any delay between when they arrived and Vengeance came to pick them up.  

Then Vanguard returned.  It did not seem to matter what form of foe they faced, their glowing foe possessed whatever was closest to their path.  The Reaper kept appearing in their path, forcing them to take different paths or for Maelstrom to expend precious heavy ordinance to cover their escape until out of range.  At first he wondered how the Reaper kept re-appearing in front of them.  He was deliberately avoiding killing its host in hopes of evading it for longer.  Only during one rare instance when the path in front of them was clear did Maelstrom steal a look back and see a scion turn the corner and fire a heavy blast into the head of a possessed Collector.

It was not rebellion against the possessing force.  Vanguard truly did not care if its host was destroyed.  It was a small price, apparently, to continue harassing them.

And harassment seemed the right word.  The hosts were unable to keep up with the speeding lift, reducing the otherwise frightening Reaper's combat effectiveness to a series of attacks that, while powerful individually, were not sustained enough to cause serious harm to any members of the team.  The whole time, he kept up his rant, shifting his focus from the failings of galactic culture as a whole to those of the individual species which comprised it.  Were it not for the fact that humanity was included, it would have sounded to Maelstrom like the kind of speciesist bullshit he would have expected to hear from some Cerberus scientist who considered himself a philosopher on the side.  All valid but also ignoring the inherent strengths which mitigated the flaws.

The Reaper's presence was not constant, however.  There were several longer, rather conspicuous absences.  He could only assume that Bridges' group was being targeted as well.  Hopefully they were also able to secure faster transportation.  It seemed impossible that they could survive on foot.

Their escape was hardly a clean one, though.  Both themselves and the sled they were on were being peppered with weapons-fire.  The quick turns they kept taking barely afforded Maelstrom's shields enough time to recharge before coming under fire again.  He had no idea how Lysander's compromised systems could be faring.  The truly concerning thing, though, was how the lift was beginning to smoke and spark from the damage it was taking.  There was little question that they would have to abandon it before reaching the extraction point, but it seemed clear everyone intended to take advantage of their escape vehicle for as long as possible to maximize their odds for survival.

The one bright spot, Maelstrom thought, was that his biotic ability was returning to him.  He would not be back to his full potential until he had a proper meal and a good rest, but it was enough that he would be able to endure heavy combat for a time.  Sustained efforts like moving team-members, though, would drain him too quickly to be practical, and he would falter.  He only hoped the others regained consciousness in time to make their own escapes.

Then it happened.  They turned a corner, only a couple-hundred yards from the extraction point, and a scion in an adjacent hallway managed to get a shockwave under the lift as they passed.  Normally, it just would have made for a bumpy ride, but, as damaged as the machine was, it caused the ezo core to give out.  The anti-grav field failed, and Maelstrom braced against the elcor, as the sled went skidding and sparking down the corridor.  At the same moment, Maelstrom heard a tremendous boom, followed by a concussive blast and a wave of intense heat.  The combined weight of the team and its own inherent mass carried the wrecked piece of machinery forward until it connected with the wall at the next turn.

Thankfully, the elcor was heavy enough that it remained in place, and Maelstrom managed to stand relatively uninjured.  Looking back down the hall, past the scraped floor, Maelstrom found a billowing plume of plasma erupting from a conduit and down the hallway their mot recent assailant fired from.  He figured that either one of his bullets grazed the line and the scion's biotic attack had caused it to breach or one of his team-mates had managed to rupture it when he was not looking.  In either case, it was protecting their rear for the moment; he doubted even a Vanguard-possessed praetorian would manage to pass through the inferno.  Checking down the hall leading to the docking bay, Maelstrom found no evidence of any Collectors massing, though he knew that could change at a moment's notice.

Maelstrom's mind raced with the possibilities.  He knew they only had seconds to make up their minds and begin on a plan of action.  Any additional hesitation would most likely mean their deaths.  His biotics would not hold out long enough to carry any members of the team with a lift field.  And the most he could only help one of the smaller team-members along without slowing himself down so much that they would be caught.

The elcor groaned, and Maelstrom went to its side, pulling one grenade from the remaining bandoleer and one from his personal stores.  He knew elcor were extremely durable and that often a single grenade blast was not even fatal.  "I'm so sorry I can't save you.  I want desperately to save you, but there's just no way left."  He found himself cursing under his breath.  There was no way for him to wipe away the tears welling up in his eyes so long as he kept his helmet on, and there was no way he would  take it off in a combat situation.  He closed his eyes for a moment, swallowed hard, and forced the heartless killer, the persona he chose when he took his alias, to return to the fore.  "I'm giving you two grenades.  The one I'm placing in your left manus is a Collector grenade.  This is to make them pay when they come for you.  The one in your right manus is a high explosive grenade.  A custom job of mine.  This one is for ending your suffering once you're certain there's no other way out.  It is enough to kill you instantly.  If it were me, I'd wait until they were right on top of me to use it.  Take more of the bastards with me when I go."  He wanted to apologize again as he rose, but he knew he couldn't or he would break down again.  Instead, he settled for something that might actually give the victim peace.  "If you tell me your name, I'll see to it that your family knows you died bravely and fighting."

"Xerrotzi... Tribe Precotzu... Ekuna.  Mate... Ecruzae."

Maelstrom nodded, then grabbed Iskra's unconscious form and slung her over his shoulder.

"Don't take more than you can handle.  It does no good for you to try to help two people if all three of you die," Maelstrom said to Lysander, though it was more to justify it to himself than out of a belief that the team leader would fail to understand the concept.

As he started towards the docking bay at his best pace, he wondered at his choice of people to rescue.  It was not just that she was arguably the lightest.  Not just that she should have had one of the best chances to survive.  Despite their recent issues, he still considered her to be a friend, whether or not such an assessment was a wise choice.  That, and his next choice- Meldom- was both critically injured and, potentially, still a threat that could snap at any moment.  It would have done little good to sling the salarian over his shoulder only to be stabbed in the back by an omni-blade.

As a small group of Collectors jumped out in front of him, Maelstrom let his shields take the damage and gunned them down in-turn with his SMG.  It was over in seconds, and his shields were still above 50%.  The encounter did not even give him a moment's pause, and he continued towards the docking bay.  

He  heard the sounds of more approaching enemies, but he was already at the threshold of the extraction point.  There were no Collectoors present there, which, for some reason, made his blood run cold.  As quickly as he could, he set Iskra down behind a pile of dismembered body parts that could act as cover from weapons fire shot from either of the rooms two accesses.

The room looked identical to the other docking bay, minus the shuttles.  Maelstrom quickly ran through the different filters on his HUD, confirming there were no hidden snipers, explosive charges, or other traps.  There was nothing dangerous about the room except for the fact that, like most docking bays, only a atmosphere-retaining mass effect field kept them from being sucked out into the vacuum of space.

Except for the sounds of his team members, it was silent.

Something was horribly wrong.

(Posted with GM approval)

The next three or so minutes were a blur of chaos and flight.

One hand on the control blister and the other on a handlebar, Eric handled driving the Collector lift while Maelstrom cleared out anything in their path, Eric calling out new threats his partner did not immediately notice. What seemed to be a straight shot on the N7’s HUD swiftly necessitated detours as enemy forces closed in from everywhere on their position followed by quick adjustments back on course. Drones, Praetorians and Scions were all marshalled against the mercenary teams. The man in Collector armor had his hands full, switching to one of his procured weapons to conserve ammo at one point. Rather than waste grenades he shot out conduits and consoles along the way putting as many obstacles between them and the enemy as possible.

Vanguard gave chase as well.

Periodically one of the enemy units would take on the characteristic glow of possession. The lift passed by the avatars too quickly for any of them to act but it would immediately be followed by another. Vanguard’s tactics reminded Eric of a scene from one of his uncle’s ancient vids where the hero was running for his life in much the same way through a virtual world. The agents that pursued him also had the ability to possess anyone at will. The agents were many, Vanguard only one but much more powerful if its incessant boasting was to be believed. Why Vanguard did not simply possess all of its pawns and unleash hell upon Eric and the lift gave Eric a fleeting hope. He remembered also how he played with his toys when he was little, only able to manipulate a couple at a time in his efforts at creating an epic battle between evil alien invaders and brave human soldiers. His sister would pop into his room unexpectedly and snatch away one of his toys. He would then chase her all about the apartment trying to get it back complaining that he was using it. His sister teasing that he was not since he was not touching it.

Reapers are like kids with toys: they can only move around so many at a time. And if their toys don’t feel like being played with and fight back they smack the board out from under ‘em. All powerful, my ass…

Vanguard and the Reapers were godlike but they were most definitely not gods. Even they had their limits.

It was a matter of surviving long enough to learn them all.

At times Vanguard seemed to forget about Eric’s team then reappear suddenly. Esteban’s team had to be enduring a similar gauntlet, giving more weight to Eric’s theory. The lift started to spark and steam from multiple hits. Everyone on board seemed to be holding up. Eric’s barriers were taking hit upon hit; they had recharged enough to afford some decent protection but they were still far from the levels for bomb disposal mode. Without being able to return fire he ducked and shifted as best he could while keeping the lift on course for point Beta.

ETA thirty seconds.

Eric arced the lift about a corner into yet another hallway. His HUD indicated that the turn down at the far end would lead to the extraction point. As the lift spun on its axis to parallel with the hallway and accelerated it was suddenly lifted up by a shockwave from a Collector, a Scion. The mass effect field around the lift was cancelled out and the lift groaned and whined as it skidded on the floor eating away at it and forward momentum. A burst of flames belched out of the intersection where the Scion had stood, sealing the way behind them. Keeping his hand on the control blister was pointless now so Eric drew his Phalanx and knelt down behind the steering column as the lift screeched to a halt at the end of the hallway. Eric staggered to his feet and peered out at the turn into the docking bay.

*ARRIVED AT BETA POINT* confirmed his HUD display.

Xenos was still on the lift as were Meldom, Morgan and Malik, the much lighter humanoids shifted somewhat out of place by the impact. The elcor groaned sadly knowing full well that his last hope for escape was gone. Eric began to walk up only to find Maelstrom kneeling beside Xenos, speaking to him and handing him two grenades as the senior N7 had done when the elcor was first encountered. Eric kept watch over the area as Maelstrom finished offering what comfort he could before he took Iskra over a shoulder and stood.

"Don't take more than you can handle,” said Maelstrom to Eric as he passed. “It does no good for you to try to help two people if all three of you die."

Eric merely grunted in acknowledgement as he took Malestrom’s place beside the lift, looking at its passengers.

Another difficult choice to make.

Morgan seemed to have her own agenda running counter to the rest of the team. Yet her coding abilities did unravel the mystery of the doctored vid used to try and get Eric arrested. The turian prisoner Malik has assured him that keeping her alive would ultimately be in his best interests.

Malik, for all his professed capability, still ended up a helpless prisoner of the Collectors. Eric’s only grievance against him was that he seemed to know Morgan better than he did.

Meldom had been with Esteban’s group from the beginning. He had carried his share of the load and assisted Eric whenever he could to the best of his ability. But now his will was compromised and threatened to be supplanted again at any time. Meldom’s next target might not fare as well as his employer’s.

Gunfire from up ahead snapped Eric out of thought. The exchange was brief, however. No doubting who the victor was in that fight.

Considering his group’s other major issue, Eric began to adhere standard det cord about the steering column of the lift and determined that once he had completed setting charges to cut off enemy advances he would decide who to take.

Shortly he found his choice being made for him.

A turian he never saw before jogged up to the lift. Wordlessly he lifted and draped Malik over his back and headed for the docking bay entrance. Eric then resumed his work affixing another detonator cap.

“Hey Pops, I’m taking Meldom to the LZ.”

Eric’s head popped up to see his younger counterpart Joe carrying Meldom. Esteban’s team had made it to Point Beta.

“I’d take Morgan, but I didn’t want you thinking I was trying to cop a feel on your daughter.”

Eric was not in much of a mood for jest, not with Xenos being left behind to die. He looked down at his omni-tool and managed “… at least she won’t disappear on me now…”

The younger N7 propped Meldom on a shoulder and was off to join the others in the docking bay. Eric programmed and set the last detonator cap in place before picking up Morgan. He hesitated a moment looking at Xenos lying still upon the wrecked lift, the same way he did earlier only now holding two grenades. His eyes were fixed on the hallway they had come through. He breathed evenly, no longer groaning or twitching. Xenos seemed to have made peace with his fate. Eric inhaled and put Morgan over his shoulder.

“Don’t make me regret this!” he said aloud, not caring if she heard him or not as he jogged towards the docking bay.

Karn, Esteban and the others were present. Iskra had been set down beside a crude cover of assorted body parts as Maelstrom went over the bay for any hidden threats. Joe called out instructions to the krogan to mind Malik. In all the confusion of the assault on the cell blocks Eric failed to note that Malik had his own M97 rifle so Meldom was safe for the moment unless he had a relapse. The senior N7’s attention went back to Maelstrom who was frozen on the spot. Eric laid Morgan down beside Iskra and walked up to his side.

“I rigged up one last roadblock in case they come in behind us again,” he began.

No answer from the man in Collector armor. Eric panned his head about trying to discover what had his friend spooked.

“… our ride shoulda been here by now… are they still out there…?"

Soon Maelstrom’s and Eric’s stares met. After a tense moment Eric pulled his assault rifle, pointing it downward as he thumbed off the safety. Eric ground his teeth.

“… it’s not over yet, is it..?”

Eric clutched his rifle close, ever on the alert for any surprises to emerge from the shadows and corners of the docking bay.

"You saw how Vanguard was teasin' us. He wants us to be scared, to make mistakes. Make us do ourselves in by cuttin' off our own escape routes early. We keep our heads... let him make the mistakes..."

He switched on his seismic app for additional insight into his surroundings.

"The Reapers want us to think they're all powerful... but somethin' occurred to me back there: Vanguard only possesses one soldier at a time... maybe he can only take over one at a time... I dunno, somehow... that... might be the way to beat 'im..."

Eric opened a channel to the entire team. "I don't need to remind you guys to be on guard. These bastards are full o' surprises. B... I hope you're up for a fight. With Morgan and Meldom down you're the only tech we have on point. Karn, Joe... keep him and the others safe. Me n' Mal can try to-"

Eric's omni-tool sounded a warning. Activity was detected. As Eric checked on it the microcomputer was still trying to locate the event's epicenter...