Chapter 37: The Suicide Squad
The encrypted message from Liara arrived through channels so secure I hadn't known they existed, painting a picture that made my enhanced blood run cold. A Collector staging area—small, isolated, but critical to their operations—established on a mining asteroid in the Vergen system.
"This is it. A chance to hit them before they're ready. Before they can establish permanent infrastructure."
I studied the intelligence data spread across our makeshift war room, feeling the weight of approaching decision. The base was exactly what I'd hoped to find—large enough to matter, small enough to assault, and isolated enough that reinforcements wouldn't arrive during the attack.
Miranda leaned over the holographic display, her analytical mind processing tactical implications with clinical precision.
"It's a suicide mission," she said bluntly. "Fifteen kilometers of tunnels through a heavily fortified asteroid. Unknown number of defenders. No backup, no extraction guarantee."
"She's right. This is exactly the kind of operation that gets everyone killed. But if we don't stop them here, how many more will die when they're ready?"
"Which is why I'm not ordering anyone to come," I replied. "This is volunteer only. Anyone with sense should walk away."
But as I looked around the room at the faces gathered for the briefing, I knew none of them would leave.
Anto stood with his rifle ready, mandibles set in the expression that meant he'd made his decision and wouldn't be swayed. Kreek clustered with four of his smartest vorcha, their pack instincts unified around a purpose that transcended simple survival.
And Zaeed Massani lounged against the wall with the casual confidence of someone who'd been waiting his entire career for a mission this dangerous.
"Collectors are building something with harvested humans," I began, carefully choosing words that wouldn't trigger my speech curse. "This base is part of that operation. We destroy it, we save lives and slow their timeline."
Zaeed's scarred face split into a predatory grin. "Been waiting for payback against those bugs. Lost good people to them years back."
"Someone has to watch your suicidal ass," Anto added with dry humor that didn't quite hide his concern.
"Where you go, I go," Miranda said simply, her statement carrying the weight of absolute commitment.
Kreek chittered agreement. "Pack fights together! Always!"
"These people are willing to follow me into hell because they believe in what we're doing. I can't let them down."
[TEAM ASSEMBLED: SUICIDE SQUAD FORMATION COMPLETE]
[MEMBERS: MIRANDA LAWSON (BIOTICS/TACTICS), ANTO (MARKSMANSHIP), ZAEED MASSANI (HEAVY WEAPONS), KREEK + 4 VORCHA (ASSAULT), DR. SOLVELI (SUPPORT)]
[MISSION PARAMETERS: HIGH RISK, CRITICAL STRATEGIC VALUE]
[ESTIMATED SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: 34%]
[RECOMMENDATION: PROCEED WITH EXTREME CAUTION]
The journey to the Vergen system passed in tense preparation. I spent hours reviewing the plan with each team member, ensuring everyone understood their role in what was essentially a proto-version of the Suicide Mission from Mass Effect 2.
Miranda would handle biotics and tactical coordination. Anto's marksmanship would eliminate key targets. Zaeed's heavy weapons expertise would breach fortifications. Kreek's pack would provide close-quarters assault capability and regeneration through impossible odds.
"Just like the game, except this time I'm Shepard. And if I fail, there's no reload save."
The asteroid appeared on our sensors as a pockmarked sphere of rock and metal, honeycombed with mining tunnels that the Collectors had converted into something far more sinister. Organic growths covered sections of the surface like alien cancer, while bioluminescent patterns pulsed with the rhythm of vast biological processes.
"Target acquired," I announced over the comm. "Three teams, three objectives. Zaeed, your heavy assault draws attention and clears the main approach. Anto, precision team eliminates sentries and communication nodes. My group pushes for the central processing facility."
"Copy that," Zaeed replied. "Time to remind these bugs why humans are the galaxy's biggest problem."
The insertion went perfectly until it didn't.
My Quarian Tech Savant gene interfaced with Collector security systems, providing patrol routes and structural weak points that let us infiltrate deeper than should have been possible. But as we moved through tunnels that reeked of organic decay and alien technology, I felt the familiar pressure building behind my eyes.
"Pack Coordination. Extended to the entire team through comm systems. Turn us into a seamless unit."
The gene activated, and suddenly every team member could sense where the others were, what they needed, how to execute complex maneuvers without explicit communication. We moved through the facility like a single organism with multiple bodies.
Zaeed's assault team drew attention exactly as planned, his heavy weapons chewing through Collector defenses while he laughed like a man who'd finally found worthy opponents. Anto's precision strikes took down sentries before they could raise alarms, his rifle singing with deadly accuracy.
And my core group—Miranda, Kreek, and two vorcha—pushed deeper into the nightmare that the Collectors had built.
The facility was worse than I'd imagined. Organic technology interfaced with cybernetic implants in ways that violated every principle of biology I understood. The walls themselves pulsed with artificial life, and the air hummed with energy that made my enhanced senses recoil in disgust.
"This is what they do. This is how they turn entire civilizations into raw materials for Reaper construction."
We fought through Seeker swarms that moved with unnatural coordination, their paralysis fields crackling as they tried to disable our weapons. Collector drones emerged from hidden alcoves, their weapons spitting organic projectiles that seemed almost alive.
When things got desperate—when a Collector General materialized with biotics that made the air itself scream—I activated Warlord's Legacy under Miranda's careful supervision.
The transformation was controlled this time, fury guided by tactics instead of overwhelming them. I tore through the General's defenses while maintaining enough humanity to coordinate with my team, to protect rather than simply destroy.
But it was what we found in the central chamber that made the mission worth every risk we'd taken.
Humans. Dozens of them suspended in stasis pods, their bodies being slowly processed into genetic slurry by organic machinery that defied description. I recognized the setup from Mass Effect 2—raw material for the Human-Reaper project, people being dissolved into component parts for Collector construction.
"Forty-seven people. Still alive, still savable. If we'd been an hour later..."
"Set the charges," I ordered, my voice rough from Warlord's Legacy activation. "Every stasis pod, every processing unit, every piece of technology they can't replace quickly."
We worked with desperate efficiency, placing explosives while the facility around us began to respond to our presence. Alarms shrieked with sounds that hurt my enhanced hearing, and reinforcements poured in from deeper sections.
The retreat became a running battle through collapsing tunnels as our charges detonated behind us. The facility died in stages—first the processing centers, then the support infrastructure, finally the entire asteroid shaking as critical systems overloaded.
Casualties mounted as we fought our way to extraction. Two of Kreek's pack fell defending our escape route, their regeneration overwhelmed by Collector weapons designed to counter organic advantages. Anto took a hit that cracked his armor and left him bleeding blue onto the deck. Zaeed's equipment was destroyed by a near-miss that should have killed him.
But we escaped. Barely, desperately, with the Collector base collapsing into stellar debris behind us.
[MISSION COMPLETE: SUICIDE SQUAD RAID SUCCESSFUL]
[STRATEGIC IMPACT: SIGNIFICANT - COLLECTOR OPERATIONS DELAYED]
[PERSONAL COST: HIGH - CASUALTIES SUSTAINED]
[HUMANS RESCUED: 47 INDIVIDUALS SAVED FROM CONVERSION]
[LEVEL UP! LEVEL 8 → 9]
[MASSIVE EXPERIENCE GAIN: 700/5000 TO LEVEL 10]
[STATS INCREASED: +5 BONUS POINTS ALLOCATED]
[+2 WILL FOR BIOTIC CONTROL, +2 INT FOR TACTICS, +1 DEX]
[COMBAT FUNDAMENTALS: EXPERT 78% → MASTER 85%]
[BIOTIC ABILITIES: NOVICE 8% → APPRENTICE 34%]
[COLLECTOR DATABASE: 15% → 31% FROM EXTENDED EXPOSURE]
[CREDITS EARNED: +50,000 FROM SALVAGED COLLECTOR TECHNOLOGY]
[REPUTATION GAIN: MASSIVE - "COLLECTOR HUNTER" TITLE EARNED]
Back on Omega, we held a memorial for the fallen vorcha in the way their pack honored warriors—howling that echoed through the lower levels, offerings of meat thrown skyward for spirits they believed would carry their packmates to whatever afterlife creatures like them could hope for.
I stood apart from the ceremony, feeling the weight of command settling on my shoulders like lead armor. I'd led people to their deaths for the first time, and the knowledge that it was necessary didn't ease the crushing guilt.
"Two good soldiers died because I decided their lives were worth the risk. How do commanders live with that weight?"
Miranda found me in my quarters hours later, staring at after-action reports that reduced heroic sacrifice to statistical data.
"They chose to follow you," she said, settling beside me with the kind of careful distance that meant she understood my need to process grief. "Kreek said his packmates died like warriors, and that's the greatest honor his people know. You gave them purpose beyond survival."
"She's right. But it doesn't feel like enough."
"Doesn't make it easier," I replied.
"No. It doesn't. But that's what separates leaders from monsters—the weight never goes away, and you never stop feeling responsible for the people who trust you."
[TEAM COHESION: ALL RELATIONSHIPS STRENGTHENED THROUGH SHARED COMBAT]
[LEADERSHIP TRAUMA DEVELOPMENT: NORMAL FOR COMMANDERS]
[RECOMMENDATION: PROCESS GRIEF, CONTINUE MISSION - THE LIVING NEED YOU MORE THAN THE DEAD]
Outside our window, Omega continued its eternal rotation. The forty-seven people we'd saved were being processed through medical facilities, returning to families who'd thought them lost forever. Somewhere in the galaxy, Collector operations were scrambling to replace infrastructure we'd destroyed, their timeline pushed back by weeks or months.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough until every last Collector was destroyed and the Reapers themselves were stopped. But it was a beginning—proof that they could be fought, that their harvest could be disrupted.
The real war was still coming. But now I had a team that had been tested in the fire of impossible odds and emerged stronger for the experience.
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