“Roberts! Roberts, we’re under attack, we need to evacuate!”

It was Keenir’s voice, which immediately had her suspicious. McKenzie leaned forward and shouted, “I’m not going anywhere until Matojo gives the all-clear.”

Keenir scowled and banged on the door again. “He told me to get you!” The Turian exclaimed, figuring he had nothing to lose by trying that angle. “If you want to survive then we have to leave now!”

His eyes went wide as he felt hot breath against the back of his neck and the heavy hand of a krogan grip his shoulder.

“I’ll take it from here,” Matojo growled against his ear. “If you don’t mind.”

Before Keenir had a chance to respond, Matojo had shoved him backward and the turian found himself flailing into the wall. The old krogan didn’t even have to ask for entry: he plugged in his code, the door opened, and McKenzie hopped to her feet and went to him. Keenir didn’t rise from where he lay on the floor, and watched the pair carefully as they disappeared down a hallway.

When he was certain that the human and krogan were out of earshot, Keenir hissed into his headset, “They’re headed your way. Kill the krogan, take the human alive.”

---

“Dunno who attacked yet,” the old Battlemaster said, his shotgun at the ready as he lead the way through the halls of the ship. Crew scrambled about, performing their duties like the good soldiers they were, none acknowledging the duo except to glance sidelong or to mumble an apology for nearly running into them. Matojo reached back for McKenzie, grabbing her just behind her shoulder and pushing her ahead of him somewhat - but within range of his shields. Her hair was standing on end from the static electricity that his biotics caused.

Gunfire up ahead prompted the old krogan to throw his biotics into high gear and he stormed ahead while McKenzie trailed along behind. There were turians in heavy combat gear firing on her crewmates, but McKenzie and Matojo didn’t recognize their uniforms. He flung a set of turians into a wall before opening fire alongside the human crew; his battle-cry echoed through the ship as a terrifying roar.

Once the turians were dead, Matojo turned to the crewmen and barked, “Where’s the Commander?”

“On the bridge,” one young man said. “it’s worse up there, they stormed it first. We haven’t heard anything from that end since the attack started.”

“Is the docking bay clear?” Matojo asked. Another crewmember shook his head.

“Probably not. Thought I heard one of them say something about securing the shuttles so nobody gets out.”

The old krogan grinned broadly as he re-loaded his shotgun. “C’mon, ‘Kenzie, we’re gettin’ you off this ship.”

---

Getting to the docking bay took longer than expected. Matojo was more than equipped to complete the task and get his charge to safety; after eight-hundred years of fighting he had a damned good idea of how to conserve his energy for when it was needed most.

McKenzie, meanwhile, was even better at staying out of the way and putting the old krogan between herself and the pointy shooty turians.

Matojo moved quickly. He ducked into doorways when he could to fire from cover, but for the most part, he strong-armed his way through the turians that were between him and his client’s safety. Most of his foes were shot - the rest were swiftly killed with his biotics.

Upon entering the docking bay, Matojo suddenly stopped and McKenzie walked right into him. He dragged her back into hiding among some crates and signalled for her to be silent, then peered past one of the crates to the group of turians that stood guarding the Passchendaele’s shuttles. Keenir was among them.

“Nobody’s reported back yet,” Keenir spat. “somebody should have confirmed by now.”

One of his accomplices shrugged. “Maybe you oughtta send somebody to check up, Commander.”

Keenir continued to pace. Matojo decided he’d be better off making a move, so he did - the big krogan darted out from his hiding place, unleashing precision biotic blasts that bounced two guards off one of the shuttles, overloading their shielding and snapping their spines in an instant, then he trained his shotgun on the remaining turian. Having never seen the Battlemaster in action before, Keenir was understandably shocked and was speechless while the old beast stared him down.

“You’ve got a lotta explainin’ to do, ya overgrown pigeon.”

“Whahuh-- wha? I look nothing like a--” Keenir brought his own gun up to fire on the old krogan, but was met with a snort and a biotic pull right into Matojo’s waiting fist. The old krogan shook his prey, forcing him to drop his gun, and held him high above his head.

“What the fuck are you tryin’ to pull?” Matojo growled. The flailing turian shouted,

“I’m just doing my job!”

Mat shook him again. “Spill your guts or I’ll spill ‘em for you.”

“We were hired to bring the human back to -- our employer was going to meet us somewhere, they were gonna give us the coordinates once we got in touch! I never saw our employer and I don’t know anything about ‘em, just that they think this kid’s got somethin’ they want!”

The old krogan sneered. “So you’re takin’ on an Alliance ship for one human.”

“We’ve got a list of ex-Cerberus operatives that are working on this ship thatweweregonnatakein!” Keenir continued to flail. “Experimentation or something maybe, I hope, I don’t know.”

Mat snorted again. He stared Keenir right in the eyes before whipping him across the room where he hit the far wall with a sickening ‘crack’, and the Battlemaster turned toward where his charge remained in hiding.

“You’re gettin’ outta here. Seems I still got work to do.”

---

Matojo’s piloting lesson was quick and dirty - just tell the shuttle where to go. The undamaged shuttle was stocked with more supplies than one would think it would need, as if Commander Turner had a vague idea that something was going to happen, and before the old krogan shut the door, McKenzie asked, “Wait, where do I go from here?”

“Anywhere,” Matojo replied. “I’ll catch up. I’ve got a friend on Omega that came from Cerberus, too. Bijoux Jones. If you can’t find her, maybe you’ll be able to find some other friendly faces. I’ll find you before the enemy does.”

Whoever the enemy even was.

Once the krogan had left the bay, the shuttle was released from the ship. He waited until he no longer felt the shuttle nearby, then cocked his rifle and made his way toward the bridge.

Resistance at that point was minimal: the turians that were left had moved on to the bridge after being partially overwhelmed by superior numbers, and as Matojo approached his objective he paused to listen. There wasn’t as much gunfire as he was expecting - whether that was good or bad, he didn’t really know. The old Battlemaster’s approach was nearly silent, and when he peered around a corner into his destination he realized why things weren’t as active as they could have been.

Both sides had taken heavy casualties, as much of the heavy combat units were there and most of the bridge crew wasn’t prepared to fight. Those that were left on the turians’ end were heavily wounded, mainly shooting to keep the humans down. It only took a handful of shots to finish those that were active and then the old krogan made his way toward the human casualties - but not before announcing his presence.

“Turner, you still alive?”

The Commander’s response was pained - he sounded bad. Matojo scowled and moved quickly to find the human Commander, who was on the floor behind a console. It wasn’t a good sight: Turner was clutching at his side, blood seeping between his fingers, and he grinned when he saw the Battlemaster.

“Where’s McKenzie?”

Matojo frowned. “She’s safe. You’re not. Who are these people and why are they after you?”

Turner leaned back against the console and cleared his throat. “Gang of mercenaries, employed by a Pridhati Dalmiyah. Every single one of us is a potential threat - or part of an experiment. It could go either way.” He coughed wetly and cleared his throat again. “She didn’t take Cerberus’ fall real well.”