[Tuchanka] Get Out (Alive) [Open]

The Torrents were named for the harsh acidic rivers that flowed through the region fast enough to sweep camps clear at the worst of times. They never slowed, and if one knew how to set up, these rivers would provide an additional layer of security to any sort of safe location.... But these days, the Torrents were synonymous with violence among volunteer groups. After the bombing in Baelis, most of them tried to transfer out of the region. Many of them succeeded, and the safe grounds here were practically alien-free.

Which begged the question as to why a mercenary company was now attacking the Garka Neutral Ground in the Eastern Torrents. There were no less than eighty armoured figures bombarding the camp, for what appeared to be no reason. The attack has gone on for almost a full day by now, and many surviving civilians had long been evacuated. It just looked like they were at the camp to blow up some buildings and ruin agricultural projects until one took a closer look.

In the centre of the camp, in the fortified husk of an old control tower, a small group huddled from the violence. Five of them were pressed against the walls, weapons held in their hands, while a cluster of three salarians and a krogan hid in the safest part of the room.

"We can't hold out for much longer." The drell ducked beside a busted console stated, crouching as a sniper round shot through the broken window. He turned to the turian who was crouched by a communications console. "We're almost out of thermal clips, and I don't think we can hold out for much longer! Calsus, what do we do?"

"First off, calm down." The growled response came as Calsus fiddled with the console, trying to get it to work. "We can't signal for help...They jammed when Eps tried earlier. I can send out a distress beacon, but I doubt it'll get through." He sighed and tried anyways before making his way to the window, a stim in hand. He stabbed it into his leg as he ducked under another stream of bullets, then stood and let out a warp at the mercenaries standing on the nearest rooftop.

"All we can do now is wait for help to arrive...Or for those jackasses to get bored."

"Now you listen! If you had done your Aralakh-damned job properly and reined those whelps in I wouldn't have to be here! I don't give a pyjak's ass about what your chieftain says, he can go and take his whining to overlord Urdnot Wrex for all I care!" Urdnot Prot fumed to his omni-tool and slammed the tomkah's interior in frustration.

"Those thick-crested idiots are putting our future in jeopardy and you're just sitting on your scaly ass there then damn right I'm going to intervene. If you aren't going to offer me any support, then stop wasting my time!"

Junior officers and patrol leaders in the truck looked quietly at their police commissioner, some checking their weapons. Prot sighed heavily, terminating the call.

"Obarr's not coming to support us?"

"Nope. That coward doesn't want to anger whoever is doing the raids on the volunteer groups. For all I know he was lying through his teeth and directing the attack himself!"

"More targets for us then." The remark earned few guffaws from the truck's passengers, but the atmosphere overall remained tense. This little 'expedition' into Torrents had taken up 2/3 of the vehicles available to North Kelphic Valley Police Department and half the personnel. Any mistake now and there would be many angry next of kin and diplomatic scandal with the ruling clans.

"Commissioner, we're approaching the target. I can see a firefight raging up ahead." Prot's radio crackled. He stood up. "Awright you knuckleheads, you know your training. If it's krogan, then it probably is hostile! We don't need to kill 'em all here, just force them off so the volunteers can evacuate!"

Up above the tomkah, an unarmed gunship painted in NKVPD livery began to gain more altitude to get a better picture of the battlezone.

Korwun Trask shined his flight goggles and placed them over his reptilian eyes. He'd sit back, strap into his pilot's chair, and level an ancient flight helmet over his crest. Flight systems are go. Weapon systems are go. A bottle of rycnol was lifted from a cup holder- He'd take a swig and throw it over his shoulder. "Okay! Time to play the hero card!"

Trask Shuttle One slowly hovered out of the hangar.

It then practically vanished, leaving only a ripple of a jump into supersonic speed. Flashing warning lights were /not/ a good sign.
"VERY BAD, VERY BAD, VERY BAD, VERY BAD-" Trask shouted, struggling to maintain control of the vehicle. It was a gray and white blur zipping across the badlands towards the Torrents.

A group of wild varren are frightened away from their resting place atop a hill as Trask passed.

"Matriarch Mirala T'Narf, and four of her attendants."
Huntress Shaari R'Yeth spoke into the shuttle's radio as it began its descent, heading for what looked like a plateau beside a raging cascade of sickly-coloured liquid. Very welcoming.
"A matriarch," repeated the krogan official on the other end, "why's she comin' here?"
"Visiting her daughter, one of the volunteers. We're carrying some weaponry in case we need to defend ourselves from hostile fauna, is this acceptable?"
Technically, Shaari wasn't lying.
"Eh, 'slong as y'don't start blowin' up our stuff or nothin', y'should be fine. Make sure t'declare what y'got when we ask ya to, an' if we tell ya t'leave somethin' behind, leave it. Got that?"
"Received and understood. Thank you."
"No prob."

Disconnecting, Shaari turned to the matriarch beside her, who like the others was dressed in sandy-brown armour, a pistol on her hip. Not her usual look, to say the least.
"Ready for this, ma'am?"
Mirala nodded. "As I'll ever be."
"Good. Now according to scans, we're not the only ones going in there; quite a few krogan vehicles and--"
BOOM
Embarrassingly, the whelp who fired that rocket hadn't even noticed the shuttle.
"Oh, shit."

To her credit, their pilot managed not to kill anyone on landing. Five asari tumbled out, mercifully skidding to a halt before they were flattened by a nearby tomkah, that hadn't managed to stop yet.
"Nice landing, Lirene," Shaari panted, patting her pilot's shoulder, "plus side, we can probably claim self-defence now."

Savara's return to Tuchanka had been inevitable. After all, she'd left home for the opportunity to increase her medical knowledge on the most up to date techniques the galaxy had to offer, and make sure the krogan benefitted from it. She'd actually been in the area to speak to one of her orignal instructors, when the Torrents erupted into chaos.

"Lady, I don't care who you are, I'm not risking any females in a warzone. We are leaving!"

Savara's eyes narrowed at the tomkah's driver, snarling under her breath.

"I'm a doctor, you cowardly excuse of a male! I'm the best chance there is for-"

Whatever Savara was going to say was lost forever, as the rapidly descending shuttle, leaving behind a trail of smoke and fire. The tomkah ground to desperate halt, barely nudging the asari contraption, its occupants blinking at the fallen ship.

Without hesitation, Savara grabbed her gear, and exited the vehicle before the obstinate male could stop her. She beelined it to the wreckage, pausing at the unfamiliar blue bipedal forms.

Savara peered at the five asari for a moment, before speaking.

"Are any of you injured? I'm a medical doctor."

Trask is, by this point, screaming in horror. Flashing red lights- Why can't I see out of these goggles? He'd remove his hands from the controls, briefly, to remove the goggles from his eyes- His shuttle drifts across the surface of a plateau, liquifying a group of klixxen and giving his shuttle a fresh mix of greens and reds for paint.

The young Krogan continued to scream in horror once he realized he couldn't see through the sludge, his screams mixed with frequent profanities and prayers to his ancestors. His shuttle is now a sub-sonic bullet, spraying alien bug guts and blood all over the badlands.

"Fine, thanks."
"I'm good."
"We seem to have been rather fortunate, all things considered. I thank you for your concern."
"Might have broken a nail."
"That shuttle was insured, right?"
Spot the matriarch.

Mirala stepped forward, addressing the doctor.
"I am Matriarch Mirala T'Narf, these fine women are my escort, and we're looking for my daughter who is somewhere in there - could we trouble you for a lift? Our own method of transportation seems to be... aflame."
As uncomfortable as she was with her title, she wasn't above drawing attention to it when it suited her.

The volunteers in the tower could hear the screams and explosions from this far away. So did the mercenaries. As the attackers outside turned their attention to those who were approaching, one of the hiding salarians spoke up. "I-Is that our rescue?"

Phobus peeped out of his cover and watched as a shuttle went careening towards them."...We're fucked."

Epsilon scowled a little and stood up, heading to one of the windows from where she had been hiding by the defence tower. Her crappy hacking software finished breaking into the defences, and the turrets that were asleep roared to life to fire at the mercenaries. She unleashed a biotic blow at another cluster of mercenaries; vorcha, and knocked them off the tower. "If it is our rescue, then we need to survive until they come!"

Savara blinked her yellow eyes at the saphire skinned women, before nodding decisively. The krogan doctor marched back to the tomkah, and after few brief snarls, followed by a very loud impact noise, she reappeared, peering out the oversized truck.

"Are you ladies coming, or what?"

Inside the obstinate driver tenderly rubbed at his crest, before sulkily getting the tomkah back into gear.

"The fight is centered around an old defense tower. I can see movement around it, krogan and vorcha in entrenched firing positions...shit, they still make those shuttle models?"

"Focus on the fight!"

"Uh, right. One shuttle is flying like blind klixen around the area, another shuttle crashed some distance from the fight. There's a tomkah near the shuttle wreck, unsure if its reinforcements for the besiegers."

"It's gonna get messy if anymore people join up. Awright, stop it here Balk, we're dismounting."

NPKVD tomkah grind to a halt and police officers carrying various firearms began to pile out of its hatch. They fanned out, scanning their surroundings for hostiles. Prot was the last one out. "You two stay back until we call you in. No blind rushes or shit like that, that truck better be intact when we get back!"

"Okay chief."

Eight krogan began to approach the defense tower in organized line, several meter gaps between every man. They took shelter behind rubble and terrain. Prot peeked out. They were behind the extremists bombarding the tower. "Suppressive fire on them now!" he bellowed out.

Five assault rifles, two shotguns and one Widow opened fire on the vorcha-krogan squad.

Between the chaotic battle going on, centered around the tower, and the crazed shuttle pilot rocketing across the sky, it wouldn't be hard to miss the M-080 Infantry Fighting Vehicle rolling across the torrents. However, the discernible CRACK of the main would certainly draw attention. The tank itself was rather unremarkable - it had a regular white coat, and the letters NPA were lazily spray-painted across the armor in bright red, with additional clan markings across other parts of the tank.

A siren blared from the vehicle itself. "This is the Northern Plains Alliance Safe Zone Task Force. Surrender now or be destroyed!" Whoever commanded the vehicle had a flair for the dramatic, to be sure. Besides the commander, there were 6 other krogan in the vehicle. Among them was Gravunk, driving the tank towards the concentration of the fighting. "Sir, are you sure we should be drawing their attention so flagrantly?" His question went unanswered - the commander was focused solely on the battle ahead at this point.

Trask fumbled with the controls, having never taken this clearly-not-meant-for-combat shuttle out on a combat run. Window cleaning-
A line of superheated light burned away most of the guts on the windshield, revealing the battle nearby. A defense platform near the tower- and there were camps here, the young Krogan thought.

Engage primary weapons systems! Forward the main battery! Hit the broadcast button on the radio!
"I'VE LOST CONTROL OF THIS THING, EVERYONE RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!" He screamed, lying through his teeth. The man's panic was replaced with focus- Reverse thrusters kill the momentum- And the side door simply snapped off, shooting forward and stabbing into the cliffside. He'd put the shuttle into a hovering, angled spin, giving it the impression of being out of control. "I'M TRAPPED IN THIS THING! I'M TRAPPED IN THIS THING!" He'd scream-


And then immediately began dropping fire on the attacker's positions. "AAHAHAHAAHAHAAAAHAAAAAAH!!"

When Everett saw Kirse's scrambled transmission, he couldn't just leave it alone. His daughter was out there on Tuchanka, her life being threatened by krogan extremists. He'd hoped that the already tense situation on the planet wouldn't get any worse, but these days, things rarely ever worked out for galactic peacekeeping efforts. However, at first, the N7 operative found himself at a complete loss. He couldn't do anything to assist his daughter; the SSV Damascus, while stationed in close proximity to the Krogan DMZ, couldn't operate within the Aralakh without clearance from command, and he was not in a position to negotiate with them about it. There was no way around it; Everett was stuck. He grew increasingly anxious as he received news on the rapidly degrading situation. Kirse was running out of time, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. The human was forced to sit back and watch.

Fortunately, he wouldn't have to watch for too long. Within two days, the Damascus received the go-ahead from command to conduct a SAR operation in the DMZ. Everett was left dumbfounded by this turn of events, wondering how the hell it even happened. Captain Aarnes was a perceptive fellow. Perhaps he detected Everett's sense of trepidation and tried to push for clearance... or so Everett liked to believe. It was probably just pure convenience that brought this about. The Damascus' proximity to Aralakh was definitely a factor in this. Either way, he wasn't complaining.

N7 squad Goliath 1-2 was on the job. The mission was simple; locate the any surviving volunteers in the Garka Neutral Ground and extract them. Nothing more, nothing less. The issue was that they were currently under siege by a company-sized force of krogan extremists, and Captain Aarnes was not about to commit a large portion of the Damascus' marine complement to the operation. The estimated casualty rate was deemed unacceptable, plus, allied troops from Clan Urdnot were moving in to counter the assault. If they did their job right, their efforts would allow the squad to reach the survivors intact.

Everett was seated in one of the Damascus' Kodiak shuttles. He rested his hands on the Harrier assault rifle that was laid over his lap. The shuttle zoomed over the Torrents, heading straight for the Neutral Ground.

"Damascus, this is Condor 1-Actual. We're approaching the AO now. Status on the LZ?" The pilot asked over the comm.

"Received, Condor 1-Actual. Situation unchanged; LZ is hot, counting eighty to a hundred hostile infantry accompanied by light armor support, Replied Damascus control.

"Understood. We're two minutes out, Goliath. You're gonna be dropping in about two hundred meters away of the camp. Ready up!"

"Right," Everett replied with a slight nod. He looked over to the men under his command. It was a full squad; two fireteams compose of four operatives each. Though he ultimately commanded both, he was at the head of fireteam Alpha. The rest of the team was made up of Service Chief Dieter "Scotch" Lowe, a Paladin-class operative, and Corporals Amelia "Alpine" Vanthoff and Matthew "Slim" Valverde, a Soldier and an Infiltrator. Bravo was lead by a Destroyer, Gunnery Chief Travis "Twitch" Reed. He was accompanied by a Sentinel, Service Chief Renan "Neuro" Costa, and two more Soldiers, Corporals Evan "Tilt" Gould and Jorne "Chef" Aelmans. To them, Everett was "Whiplash."

"First sortie we've had in a while," He continued.

"Yeah, and it's a doozy, too. Brass was holdin' out on us, if you ask me," Exclaimed Tilt, rolling his neck once and sighing.

"Damn right. There's all kinds of shit happening on this rock," Alpine added with a smirk, "Well, thank God for that. I've just about had my fill of patrols and exercises."

"Just don't forget why we're here," Stated Scotch firmly, "You know, extract the VIPs? Avoid engaging the enemy at all costs?"

"Well, yeah. Just sayin', I'll be glad to have a few bullets flying over my head again. Keeps the mind sharp, ya know," Replied Tilt with a shrug. "'Sides, we got the krogan watchin' our asses, right?"

"We should. Doesn't mean they'll be happy to see us."

"Why the hell not?" Neuro asked, raising a brow quizzically, "I mean, some of our people are down there. We have a right to get 'em out."

"Well... not everyone's gonna be informed about our involvement," Everett cut in, "Scotch has a point. We don't know how they're all gonna react. That's why command wants us to get in and out without attracting too much attention. They're hoping the rebels'll turn their attention on the Urdnots, and if they don't... well, that complicates things."

Most of the squad nodded or murmured their agreement. Scotch turned to the Operations Chief with a look of concern on his face. "You okay, Chief? You've been pretty quiet this whole ride."

Everett looked slightly surprised when his second-in-command posed the question, but he quickly recovered with a nod. "Yeah, I'm good. Just goin' over the intel in my mind."

The Gunnery Chief nodded and left it at that. Before anyone could speak further, the the pilot turned back to the squad and spoke up, "Thirty seconds, Goliath! Prepare to dismount!"

"Right. Break's over, people," Everett said while putting on his breather helmet and rising up with his weapon in hand. His team followed suit, facing the door as the shuttle descended towards Tuchanka's soil. Once the vehicle came to a complete stop, the door slid open, revealing the barren, rocky landscape and the besieged camp.

"Everyone out," Everett barked. The N7 team hopped out of the shuttle, taking up positions around it and covering just about direction. Nobody wanted a downed bird.

"All clear, Chief," Twitch reported, scanning the horizon with his Typhoon in hand.

"And that's my cue," Condor 1-Actual announced as the shuttle began to rise, "Condor 1-Actual buggin' out. Bring 'em home, Goliath."

Everett didn't need to reply. Condor knew what his answer would be. "Alright, let's get moving, those civvies ain't gonna last much longer." He signaled the squad to advance before rising up and moving towards the objective at a brisk pace with his men in tow.

"Command, this is Goliath 1-2 Actual. We're groundside and are approaching the objective."

"Goliath 1-2 Actual, be advised, NPKVD units have arrived at the AO and are engaging the hostiles. Do not, I say again, do not engage the enemy except in self defense. Your primary objective is securing and extracting the VIPs. How copy?"

"Avoid contact, secure and extract VIPs, understood. Goliath 1-2 Actual out."

The team used the rocky, uneven terrain to conceal their movements as best as they possibly could while keeping a steady pace. It was unlikely that the extremists would spot and prioritize them as targets from their location, but it never hurt to be careful. The N7s took care to avoid any acidic water they ran across. Everett winced whenever he spotted one of those streams; they reminded him of his last op in the foundations, when his chest was splashed with corrosive acid. It would've eaten straight through his armor and skin if he hadn't reacted quickly and used all the medigel stored in his armor to stop it.

Once they were near the camp, the comm crackled to life once more. "Goliath 1-2, be advised, we've picked up two unknown aircraft on approach to the AO. Proceed with caution."

"What the hell?! Where did... ah Christ, those had better not be gunships," Slim groaned. Everett had to curse under his breath, as well. Nobody ever said anything about the possibility of the enemy having air support. Intel couldn't have gotten that wrong, could they? If they did, Goliath, along with the rest of the allied forces, were in deep shit. The good news was, it soon turned out that the fast-movers weren't gunships, but shuttles. The bad news was that they were still unknown. Who knew if they were carrying friendlies, hostiles, or even neutrals who showed up in the wrong place at the wrong time? It didn't matter, though; both shuttles were swiftly shot down by anti-air missiles. Goliath team promptly reacted with a flurry of surprised curses.

"Geez...ah, command, the two unknowns have been splashed. Can't tell if there are any survivors from here."

"Acknowledged. Ignore the crash sites and continue your mission."

"Roger."

It didn't take much longer for the squad to reach the camp's perimeter. Slim activated his cloak and scouted ahead before signaling the rest of the squad to move up. The N7s attempted to remain discreet as they swept through the wartorn camp in their search for the VIPs, but there was still that chance of them being discovered by one of the defenders in the camp...

"Thank you."
One after another, the asari made their way into the tank and sat together in a rather cramped corner, trying to leave as much space as possible given that the krogan they were sharing the vehicle with weren't looking too pleased with their presence.
"That could've gone better."
"Yyyeah, I was kind of hoping we'd be able to fly out of here once this was over."
"We'll worry about that later. Have to get that lot out of there first."
Mirala said nothing, staring through what little windscreen she could see from where she was. Lots of gunfire and explosions.
Lovely.

"Our distress call certainly worked." Calsus remarked as he watched the mercenaries turn from attacking them to acknowledging the forces surrounding the camp. Some of the mercenaries had turned to the shuttle, trying to blindly fire back as they scrambled for cover. Others engaged the NPKVD, returning bullet for bullet, and one vorcha even lobbed a rocket at them, while a few more turned to the tank that rolled in. A vorcha screeched and heavy weapons were diverted from attacking the tower to the thing that could actually destroy them. Either way, almost all the heat was off the tower, with the mercenaries trying to protect themselves from the hostile forces.

"Thank the goddess..." The lone asari of the group exclaimed as she finished patching up the krogan huddled with the civilians. "Could we escape while the heat is off us?"

The turian biotic lifted a sniper rifle, using it to scope the besieged camp while the mercenaries ignored them. "...Negative. Not until the ranks have been thinned out..." He sighed and crouched down, looking to one of the other defenders, a krogan who was quiet the entire time, having already slipped unconscious. His injuries had already been patched up with medi-gel, but considering how the krogan had been the main target when the group moved to hide in the defence tower, he still had a lot to recover from. "And carrying Prask out on top of covering the civilians? We'd need a lot of cover."

"The turrets can help us....but it'll still keep attention on us..." The drell pointed out as he nervously fiddled with his Tempest. "So this is all we can do? Wait?"

Epsilon stayed quiet throughout this exchange, trying to think through the situation through her exhaustion. She, Reina and Calsus had been using their biotics heavily the past two days, and the group had very little rest while trying to survive. The human took out a stim and injected it into her veins, giving her a bit more energy to think and work with. "...No. I have an idea. Phobus, pass me the rest of the thermal clips. We won't need them with the turrets protecting us." She spoke up as she headed to the little supply cache they managed to salvage before everything went to hell. She took out a few of the rations and stims, tucking them into her pockets.

"Eps, what are you planning?" The drell asked as he nevertheless complied, handing her the remaining six full clips. She took them and loaded one into an M-11 Suppressor, given to them for this mission.

"Paving a way." She replied as she loaded up her tactical cloak. "Pack up. While those guys outside engage the hostiles, we'll slip out the area with the weakest support. I'll scout on ahead and remove what resistance I find."

"Are you insane? What's to stop them from finding you and figuring out what we're doing? They're going to catch you, Eps, Stay-" Calsus barked out, but Epsilon already slipped out of the room, cloak engaged. "Spirits protect that crazy..." He shook his head and headed back to the console. He checked the radio again, but they were still being jammed. "Reina, Phobus, see if you can figure out where they're jamming us from. If we can get communications back online, we'll be able to contact our rescue...or at least be able to keep in contact with Epsilon."

The remaining two members of the krantt nodded, and started to scan the battlefield.

The N7 unit made their way through the camp, checking the various tents and prefabs for any signs of activity. So far, they found nothing, other than several various bleeding and charred corpses of the camp's defenders. If there were any survivors, Everett figured that they would probably garrison the most fortified structure in the area. That happened to be the tower surrounded by the automated turrets. The turrets were among the few things holding back the assault. It ensured that nothing would get close to that tower. Everett figured that they were programmed to fire on hostile signatures, so he and his men began their jog straight to the tall structure. Unfortunately, he was wrong; one of the turrets suddenly turned to face the N7s. The OpChief's eyes widened in horror.

"Oh SHIT, COVER! COVER!" He barely had enough time to bark at his troops before the turret opened up. The N7s immediately scattered to whatever hard cover they could find. Everett could feel several rounds impacting against his shields, dropping them down to a dangerously low level. He managed to slide behind the side of a partially destroyed prefab unit. His HUD indicated that his team was spread out over a wide area, and that Chef and Alpine's status were yellow.

"Gimme a sitrep, Goliath! Anyone hit?!" Everett shouted in between heavy breaths. The turret was now scanning the area where it last saw movement.

"Alpha, Bravo here. Son of a bitch got through Chef's shields, right in the gut. We're treating him now. He'll be fine!"

"Urgh, I just got my wing clipped," Grunted Alpine, "Nothin' a little gel won't fix...fucking hell, what just happened?! I thought those turrets were friendly!"

"They damn well should be! The hostiles haven't breached the perimeter yet... God damn idiots must've set 'em to free fire!"

"Oh, that's perfect. Can't even get close to the objective without getting torn to shreds," Tilt complained.

"Just stay low. Setting up a line to command," Everett ordered as he tried to raise command on the radio, "Command, this is Goliath 1-2-Actual. We are pinned down by a defensive turret network on the tower. Requesting immediate CAS, over."

Instead of hearing the same even tone of command, all the human got was static. "What the... shit. We're being jammed, too, I can't get a hold of command!"

"You've got to be shitting me," Neuro grumbled, kneeling down next to him, "Are you sure we're rescuing the right people, Chief? They don't seem very keen on letting us in!"

"Just let me think for a moment..." How would they get in with that turret covering their sector? If anyone stepped out, they would be riddled with high velocity mass-accelerator rounds in rapid succession. Everett couldn't have that, so he searched for an alternative.

"Hmm...alright, I got an idea. I'm gonna try to hack into it. From this distance, signal ain't gonna be too strong, so I probably won't be able to hold it for too long, but if we all rush to that tower when I shut it down, we should be able to make it...we've got one shot at this. Wish me luck." Everett activated his omnitool and prepared to hack his way into the turret's systems. This was the only chance they had. The only other option was to destroy the turret, but that would weaken the camp's defenses against the enemy considerably.

Once his hacking app was ready for use, Everett prepared to hit the button. "Alright...gonna attempt the hack on three. One... two... three!" The hack was underway. The Demolisher struggled to gain control of the system while it went haywire in an attempt to stop him. However, years of experience with all sorts of synthetic entities prepared him for something like this, and in short time, he was in the system, though not for long. His own omni-tool was suffering from the strain.

"I'm in! Double time it, Goliath! Move your asses!"

The squad complied immediately, jumping to their feet and taking off in a sprint towards the tower. Upon reaching the entrance, they wasted no time in forcing their way in. They checked the bottom floor for targets, and once they saw it was clear, Everett gave them the order to ascend to the upper floors. Their entrance made quite a racket, so it would certainly be noticed by the tower's few occupants...

fffsshh-BOOOOOM!! A rocket struck the bottom of the Air Brigade Industries shuttle, enveloping it in a fireball. Trask lands in a bloody heap on the friendly side of the defenses, capable of little more than bleeding. His armor was painted in crimson, he appeared to be little more than hamburger meat in some places. He was also on fire, and still very much alive. "PUT ME OUT! PUT ME OUT!" He shouted, rolling to a stand. His redundant nervous system was in overdrive, as was adrenaline and god-knows-what. He'd stagger about, slapping at the flames. "FIRE! I'M ON FIRE!"

In the control room, their searching was interrupted when a krogan crashed through the windows, overriding most of the noise that the squad downstairs made. Reina, Phobus, and the civilians screamed in terror, but the krogan that was with the group of salarians got up and grabbed a fire extinguisher, putting out the flames. "Idiot." She sneered irritably, before looking to the rest of them. "Have you found the jammer?"

"Negative. It's not visible from here. We're going to have to hope Eps or one of those groups outside do."

---

Below, the Alliance squad would find their passage blocked at some point by a bunch of crates stacked up against a doorway, which started to glow with biotics. The crates were tossed at them, and Epsilon's cloak came down as she prepared a heavy warp to direct at one of the soldiers, her pistol pointed at another. She only stopped when she recognized their insignia. "Alliance?" She asked, cautiously.

While there may well have been some antipathy from the krogan driver (taking women to battle just weren't proper!) Savara's gaze was plainly inqusitive.

"So..."

She began, after taking a moment to put on her gear, which served as both armor and triage tool. "...Is it normal for Matriarchs to personally lead Commando teams into warzones?"

The other four asari made sense, but weren't Matriarchs supposed to stay behind the scenes? Perhaps the blue aliens had more in common with her people than she thought, if their leaders were willing to jump directly into the fires of war.

If they'd followed this one's example, they might have fared better in the war. Or are they only to fight so when kin are at risk?

Understandable, but still a weakness in their perspective of things. Savara, who might very well have been older than Mirala, had learned in her centuries long life that every life would eventually count for something. You couldn't always let blood dictate your decisions.

Meanwhile, the driver squinted at the destruction ahead. They were getting close.

"Hold on to your quads."

"Ah, Chief?" Came Slim's voice. Everett narrowed his eyes. The infiltrator was scouting ahead, heading a bit further up than the rest of the squad while cloaked, so he probably found something.

"I read you, Slim. What is it? Got trouble?" He asked.

"Nah, just ran into an obstruction. Buncha crates blocking the next door. May need some help in getting them out of the way."

"Crates, huh? Survivors must've barricaded themselves inside. We're coming up, Slim, just hang tight." Everett hoped that was the case. He also hoped that anyone they found in this tower wouldn't take their presence too badly. This mission was complicated enough as it was already. Once the team rendezvoused with the Infiltrator, Everett turned to face the rest of his team.

"Alright, Alpha, let's get this crap out of the way. Bravo, keep us covered," The Demolisher addressed his men.

"Will do, Chie-... the hell?" Twitch muttered, staring past Everett towards the blocked entrance. Confused, the OpChief turned back to see the crates glowing a faint blue.

"...Uh."

"Shit, biotics! Get down!" As soon as Neuro yelled that out, the boxes suddenly flew out at the N7 team. The operatives attempted to dive and duck out of the way, allowing them to dodge most of them. Twitch wasn't so lucky; the Destroyer took one of the boxes to the chest, yelping as he was knocked to the ground.

"Jesus. Hey, Twitch, you good?" Asked Scotch.

"Yeap," the Destroyer grunted, pushing the metallic crate off of his body and pushing himself up with a light groan. "C'mon, this T-5V'll have to take a lot more punishment than that to hurt...what the hell was that, anyway?"

His question was soon answered when Epsilon faded into view. The N7s reacted to this new contact immediately, frantically pushing themselves up and raising their weapons at the girl.

"FREEZE," Shouted Scotch, deploying his shield and aiming his M-358 Talon at his new target's center mass.

"Drop the weapon," Added Alpine, wielding her M-8 Avenger. The rest of the squad delivered similar threats, save for Everett, who simply froze in place as he laid his eyes upon the girl. That voice, that face, those biotics... no doubt about it, she was definitely his daughter.

"...Kirse?" Everett breathed, stunned. Then he realized that his men were pointing their weapons at her, and were ready to open fire at the slightest provocation.

"S-stand down," Everett barked, quickly rising up and signaling his men to lower their weapons, "Stand down, damn it!"

The troops turned to their squad leader, baffled. "What? Chief, she's-"

"I won't say it again, Tilt... I know this girl." Leaving it at that, Everett stepped forward. His men reluctantly lowered their weapons as he unsealed his helmet, removing it to reveal a very familiar scarred face to Epsilon. His lips parted in a relieved smile, and he placed an gloved hand on her shoulder.

"Thank God we found you. after seeing the camp in this state, I started to fear for the worst... but you've always been a survivor." His smile faded. "We're here to get you and any other survivors home. Is there anyone else with you?" Everett's comrades couldn't have looked more lost at that moment.