Mass Effect: Objects in Space - Chapter 6...

The continued tale of the crew of the Normandy SR2, as they transpire AFTER the events of Mass Effect 2. For those who haven't played it - SPOILERS will ensure. You have been WARNED!

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The M-6 Carnifex was a fearsome weapon, a turian manufactured beast that was all show and no finesse. It made a loud bang when fired, and kicked like a mule, making it incredibly popular with mercenaries. It was a shame that it's popularity wasn't based solely on these traits, as it generally hit whatever it was pointed at, and - so long as the target did not have kinetic barriers - usually made a hell of a mess.

It was a shame, as a fine specimen of the heavy pistol was currently about two inches from Tali'Zorah vas Normandy's face plate, and the human pointing it at her was considerably angry.

"Where is Subject Zero?" He said, pressing the weapon against the violet armour-glass. The barrel made a slight squeal as the metal scratched the mask, Tali's glowing eyes narrowing at the threat. Gritting her teeth, she placed her hands on her hips and remained silent. She had faced a rogue spectre and a reaper in combat, this human did not scare her with his threats of violence.

"I asked you a question you filthy little bitch." He growled, and backhanded her across the side of her head with the pistol, knocking her to the ground. "Where is Subject Zero? Is she on this ship?"

"Go to hell you bosh'tet!" Tali snarled, struggling to stand up again. Her head was swimming, and specks of light danced across her vision, her head throbbing from the force of the blow.

"What did you call me?" The man said, his face twisted with rage. "You want to play tough huh? Fine, I'll bite. You aliens are all the same, so sure of your own self importance. Well you see me, I hate your kind, you and all your other filthy friends. You are all that is holding my kind back. Hell I wouldn't piss on you if you were on fire, bitch."

Stepping back from Tali, the human spread his arms wide and stooped forward, as if presenting himself to her for judgement.

"You see me? Do you? You aliens mean nothing to me." He said, before spinning around so rapidly he even took his own men by surprise. The pistol snapped up, and the man fired a single shot, the force of the impact knocking Donnelly to the ground, blood gushing from the wound in the small of his back. He lay still, and didn't make a sound. Daniels - however - screamed, and tried to go to her friend's aid, but the other soldier held her back, brandishing his own pistol in her face as a reminder that not doing what she was told would be very ill advised.

"I'm willing to do whatever it takes to get humanity to our rightful place, even kill my own kind. You think I care about what happens to you?" He said, turning back round to face Tali. "Now I'll ask you again. Subject Zero. Where. Is. She?"

Tali'Zorah considered all her possible responses, wanting nothing more than to strike this man down for what he had done. Donnelly was a lecherous man, but he was part of her crew, and he deserved better. Her resistance crumbled, and her shoulders sagged, the helplessness of her situation finally driven home.

"She is... not aboard. She left the ship weeks ago, along with a shore party. I don't know where she went, the Commander didn't say." Tali said, unwilling to risk Daniels' well being too.

"Good. If you're lying, or if you try anything, I've got this..." The man said, reaching into his combat webbing and retrieving a medical injector. "One wrong move and I stick you with it. I don't know what it's called, but I've seen it used on your kind before. Makes a really nice looking puddle out of your tissue. Do we understand each other?"

"Perfectly." Tali said, venom in her voice as some of her defiance returned in the face of so vile a weapon. The man smiled behind his helmet, the transparent faceplate failing to hide the rotten teeth in his grinning mouth.

"Excellent. Glad we understand each other."



The door to the engineering sub-deck stairwell was jammed, the status display on the access panel flashing a red warning light. Closer examination of the locking mechanism showed tell tale signs of melting consistent with that found on the door to Grunt's cargo room. He cursed under his breath, and set off back the way he had come, keeping low to avoid being spotted by any remaining Cerberus soldiers down in the shuttle bay below. The sounds of battle were becoming increasingly sporadic as Thane's men mopped up the last of the enemy strike team.

The fact that two of the blast doors on this deck had been welded shut were all the evidence he needed to know that the attack on the shuttle bay was a diversion to allow commando teams to get onto the ship via alternate means. He didn't know how, but he'd let EDI figure that one out. All he knew was that Cerberus had elite troops operating on the ship. They knew the layout of the Normandy - they'd built the damn thing. Chances are they could monitor communications too. He couldn't risk warning the rest of the crew for fear that the enemy might scuttle the ship. It's what he'd have done, had the circumstances been reversed.

He just hoped they hadn't completely locked down access to engineering - he really didn't want to go crawling through ducts considering the condition he was in. His body still ached from the explosion in the communications room, and he had begun to realise that he had likely broken a rib or two. He was running on adrenaline, and it had pushed the pain to the back of his mind. His armour had already applied medi-gel to the affected area, but there was only so much it could do for broken bones.

The port access door loomed before him, and his shoulders sagged in relief as he saw the lock was undamaged. He reached out a hand and keyed the activation button, the green light of the access panel flickering for a moment before it powered down, and the segmented portal receded into the bulkhead.

The pain in his side came back with renewed vigour, distracting him to the point where he almost didn't realise that he was standing face to face with a shocked looking Cerberus trooper, the woman holding a portable fusion beamer, the business end of the tool glowing white hot. It was fully charged.

It dawned on both of them at the same time that he was standing right in its field of fire, and he twisted away to the side as the commando thumbed the activation switch and pulled the beamers trigger. His helmet filters couldn't block out the acrid smell of molten metal and ionised air as a beam of superheated gas shot three feet out from the tool, vaporising the side of his armour and scorching the flesh underneath.

Pain - almost overwhelming agony - surged through his body, so acute he couldn't even scream, and his hand shot out instinctively toward the tool as the commando brought it around to fire it again. He knocked her arm aside, the impact jarring his pistol from his grip, and it clattered to the deck, bouncing from the metal plating and falling down into the stairwell to the engineering sub-level.

So much for the easy option.

He'd have to do this the hard way; up close and bloody. That suited him fine. He grinned like a maniac behind his helmet and brought his other hand down in and overhead blow to the side of his opponents neck. Her armour's gorget protected her from most of the force of the blow, but still she reeled from the impact, and he pressed the advantage, hammering a right hook into her chest that staggered her back a couple of steps.

A fresh surge of adrenaline coursed through his system, overriding the shock of the fusion beam, and he rushed at her, hoping to use his superior size to bring her down fast. But his opponent was a commando, and a damn good one too, he realised as she sidestepped to his left and dropped into a fighting stance faster than he could arrest his charge. Instead he redirected to keep his aim true, knowing that if he couldn't stop himself he could only commit to the attack, and hope at least some of it got through.

She would never have had the time to bring her fists up fast enough to punch him, so instead she slammed her knee into his gut, doubling him over. Unfortunately for her his momentum carried him forward, and he barrelled into her, the two of them falling against the safety railing overlooking the stairwell. The small of her back hit the top of the railing, her feet leaving the deck, and - combined with his weight pushing into her chest - she fell backwards, over the railing.

She grabbed at his armour, her eyes burning with fury, and dragged him after her.

A memory leapt unbidden into his mind. The sensation of weightlessness. The soft caress of the Asari's skin against his, feeling her embrace and letting himself be taken by the moment as they drifted in the zero-G. Her fingers traced the scars on his back - her touch like ice - bringing ecstasy wherever they roamed.

Reality returned like a hammer blow as he hit the steps near the bottom of the stairwell, the commando slamming into the ground beside him. They rolled the last few feet to the bottom, landing in a tangled heap in the darkness of the maintenance sub-deck. The world would not stop spinning, at least until a fist slammed into his face plate, his head bouncing from the deck.

His vision cleared just in time for him to roll aside as the commando - now back on her feet - slammed her booted foot into the ground where his head had been moments before. He kept rolling as she snapped a kick at his chest, and he grabbed her boot with both hands, twisting so hard it wrenched her from her feet and she fell unceremoniously back to the deck.

He pulled himself back to his feet, panting heavily - the fall had aggravated his injured ribs, and the fused flesh of his side burned like hot coals. He was running on his last reserves of strength, and the look in his opponents eyes as she stood up once again showed him that she knew it too.

She began to circle him, an easy confidence to her stride, moving like a predator sensing weakness in its prey. The fusion beamer dangled - forgotten - from its power cable, connected to a boxy generator pack strapped to her hip. Her armour was dented and scratched in a dozen places, and her gorget had been torn free during the fall, hanging from her chest plate by one strap.

Her confidence turned to panic as she saw the pistol in his hand, retrieved from where it had fallen during the fight.

Summoning all her strength she leapt at him as he raised the weapon in a trembling hand. She was on him in a flash, knocking his forearm aside and thrusting a knife-edged jab at his throat. He twisted aside, the blow glancing from his shoulder guard, and he grabbed her dangling gorget in his free hand and pulled with all his strength, dragging her off balance.

They fell again, her face hitting the deck and sending stars dancing in front of her eyes. He fell on top of her, and snaked his arms around her - one across her neck, the other over her stomach. Holding on as hard as he could he rolled over onto his back, pulling her along with him. His arms freed, he tightened his grip and began to choke her.

She resisted at first, thrashing in his arms, but he was too strong, and he had her in an iron hard grip. It didn't take her long to realise, and instead of flailing ineffectually at him she hammered her elbow into his side, the agony of the fusion burn leaping back to the forefront of his consciousness.

Feeling him tense, she repeated the blow, searing pain shooting through his body at the impact.

He could not take another blow, his vision was going dark around the edges and it seemed like he was viewing the world from the bottom of hole in the ground. He was beginning to black out. If he did, it would be game over - he'd never wake up.

He let go of her stomach and shielded the wound with his arm, her elbow impacting his armour rather than his burned flesh. It was then that his fingers closed around something solid and heavy, and hot to the touch. Grasping hold of it he twisted onto his side, throwing her off balance, and spoiling her next blow.

"Nice try darling." He hissed in her ear, and rammed the fusion beamer up under her chin. He thumbed the safety switch, and she went rigid with fear as the sound of the tool charging up echoed around the room.

"Better luck next time." He said, and pulled the trigger. There was a flash of white light, an overwhelming blast of heat, and the commando went limp in his arms.

Pushing the smoking corpse away from him, he dragged his battered body back to his feet and looked down at the mess. The front of helmet - and her face - were several feet away from her body, the remains steaming from the perfect, clean cut the fusion beamer had made through her head.

Shaking his head, he retrieved the pistol from the floor and staggered wearily back up to the deck above, weapon held at the ready. The rest of her team were surely in the engine room, and for all he knew they had heard the struggle. They would be waiting, and he did not intend to keep them waiting for long.