On Wheels of Fire
A Mass Effect Fic
As per normal for this site, Mass Effect is not my property, but that of Bioware. No profit is being made, simply having a bit of fun, and hopefully entertaining a few readers along the way.
"Yes Admiral Hackett, I think this will bear fruit. And if nothing else, we owe it to ourselves to try." Adrian Shepard leaned back in his chair, the lights dim in his room as he talked to Fifth Fleet's commander. The com wasn't even being relayed as per standard procedure for the human Spectre and his largely invisible patron. The Normandy was holding station off the crippled Destiny Ascension's port bow as the massive dreadnought was worked over by repair crews. This was nothing new, per se.
The SSV Tsiolovsky being stationed in between the ward arms of the Citadel was new, though. The flagship of the Systems Alliance's Fifth Fleet was more commonly seen on Arcturus Station. But with the destruction Sovereign had wrought on the joint turian-asari Citadel Fleet, Fifth Fleet was pulling duty as the guardian of galactic civilization. It had meant that Third Fleet had been pulled from patrolling to Arcturus, leaving the Traverse rather lightly patrolled, but that was just too bad. Better for the batarians to pull a few smash-and-grabs on the outer colonies than for a Terminus fleet to slip past a depleted First Fleet and eat Sol's lunch.
The upshot of all this, besides it being a very tacit acknowledgement of the latest addition to the Citadel Council, was that Adrian and Admiral Hackett were within a range of far less than a light second, making a secure channel as easy as establishing a tight-beam laser, even in space as dusty as this. "I understand, and tentatively agree. You've discussed this with Councilor Anderson, I assume?" The admiral's voice, was, as always, distorted by the decryption software the Normandy's VI was running. Even on a secure channel, it never hurt to take extra precautions, especially when discussing information this sensitive.
"Of course." Shepard chuckled. "He went ahead and quoted Udina at me."
"Oh?"
Shepard didn't bother to try imitating Udina, as Anderson had. The encryption and decryption would rob Hackett's end of all the artistry. "Oh yes. 'Do the words political shit-storm mean anything to you?'" A harsh chuckle made it over the link and the Spectre grinned. "Once I went ahead and put forward the benefits we could potentially reap, though, he gave it some serious thought. He's authorized me to at least give the offer to Miss Zorah nar Raaya."
"As a representative of the Alliance, or of the Council?"
"He was non-specific as to that detail, sir."
"He's learning already. Seems some of Udina rubbed off on his fist, eh, Commander?"
"The right parts, I hope, sir."
"So do I. How do you think your comrade will take the offer?"
"I really couldn't say. About all I can say for certain is that the other Council races are going to howl if this goes through."
"It's their problem if they're not willing to adapt. A shame that we can't bring the salarians in on this. They do have the most experience with the NUV GARDIAN system." Shepard didn't respond. The salarians had been a Council race for so long that salarian interests and Council interests were practically one and the same. And while salarians were adaptable and inventive, the asari and turians were less so. "Well, perhaps later. All the races will need as many edges as we can get to win the upcoming fight."
"Amen to that, sir. I take it that you're on-board, then?"
"Of course. I'll see what I can do to have Fifth Fleet rotated onto Elysium Station."
"Very good, sir. If you'll excuse me, I should be doing my part in this."
"Of course, Shepard. Fifth Fleet out."
Shepard blew out a breath. This was risky. But then, humanity took risks. It was what had lead them to a embassy on the Citadel less than a decade after first contact, and a violent one at that. It had been less than two decades after that that Adrian had been the first human to join the ranks of the Spectres, and if it hadn't been Saren on that mission with Anderson, Shepard suspected that it would have been back during Ambassador Goyle's term, when they had first gained an embassy. Taking risks had lead to Sovereign's destruction and the future safety of all organic sentients in the galaxy, at least for now.
And if a further risk could help to secure that future, well than it was Shepard's sworn duty…and natural inclination, when it came to that, to take it. He brought up the cabin lights and shrugged on his uniform jacket. Probably unnecessary, but for this occasion he supposed it was only proper. It was more formal than his normal shipboard dress, but then he had been lax on that, now hadn't he?
A wave of his hand through the console area brought up his terminal's holographic keyboard, and he toggled the PA system. "Tali'Zorah nar Raaya to captains quarters, please. Tali'Zorah nar Raaya to captains quarters." He shut off the PA.
Really, the greatest loss was that he wouldn't be able to see the look on Tali's face!
Tali'Zora nar Raaya was a very surprised quarian when she heard the Commander's voice over the PA. Very conflicted, too. Her months on the Normandy had been, without exaggeration, the best in her life. Which was odd, considering that she had no real intention of being one of the disappearing Pilgrims. She still missed the Fleet, the crowds, her vast, extended 17 million person family. But here she was, Saren defeated, she herself having put a bullet in his skull after the turian had committed suicide, an OSD of encrypted information on the geth in her possession, and still she was tinkering on the one of a kind Tantalus drive core, not returning to the Migrant Fleet.
The mission was over, her Pilgrimage was over. So why wasn't she headed back to the Fleet? She bounced on her toes as she took the elevator up, trying in vain to use the extra time to compose herself. The normally tedious elevator ride seemed to fly by as thoughts whirled in the young quarian's head.
The middeck was largely abandoned when she exited the elevator and made for Shepard's cabin. A rating was doing routine checks on the sleeper pods that made up the Normandy's rather spartan accommodations for the enlisted men, but other than that, the deck was disconcertingly empty, with not even the token crewmember or two catching a bite to eat. Only to be expected, what with their proximity to the Citadel and the Normandy's new Kodiak drop shuttle. Shepard could be surprisingly lax on discipline at times.
Crew morale was soaring, however, with regular access to Zakera Ward restaurants. One of the benefits of serving under a Spectre. Tali pressed the admittance key. "You called, Shepard?"
"Come on in." The door hissed open and Tali stepped in, pausing for just a moment as she took in Shepard's uniform, one she more associated with the former Captain Anderson. The Commander stood next to the small table that occupied the middle of his quarters.
"Commander?"
"Sit down, Tali," he extended a hand towards a chair. Tail spotted a pair of OSDs and a handheld reader next to the lamp Shepard kept on the table.
"What is this about?" asked Tali, wringing her hands together as she moved to the chair. Had there been something wrong with her work? Oh Keelah, had the Alliance decided that she was a security risk?
Shepard glanced at her and chuckled. "Don't worry, Tali, it's nothing bad." He indicated the chair again.
The young quarian sat in the chair rather more heavily than normal. Shepard sat down across the table from her. "Well, that's good then…but what did you want to talk to me about? And in uniform!"
Adrian chuckled. "Well, this is a somewhat formal event…and frankly, I should be wearing this more. It is an Alliance CO's uniform."
Tali blinked under her mask, a reflex that three hundred years of suited life had still not bred out of her race, likely because their luminescent eyes were one of the few features easily read under the masks. "But you are a Spectre. Didn't Captain Anderson say that you aren't…" She trailed off. That was like asking her if she was still a member of the Fleet. "Sorry," she mumbled, staring down at the table.
Shepard shook his head. "Not at all." He smiled, though there was a little strain to it. "Actually, this is partly Alliance business."
Tali looked up to see Shepard's guileless expression. "Oh?"
"Tali, I know we've talked about your Pilgrimage before. You told me that you intended to return after we had defeated Saren and stopped Sovereign."
"Well, yes. And after securing a gift, of course."
"Planning on bringing something more than the geth data?" joked Shepard. "Speaking of which…" he pushed one of the OSDs to her. "These are the latest notes on the Alliance's decryption of the data. It should at least knock off a few months before the data is usable."
"Thank you…" Tali looked at the disk for a few seconds before returning her gaze to Shepard. "Commander…are you asking me to leave the Normandy?" She couldn't keep the hurt from choking her words.
"Tali'Zorah nar Raaya, I want you to listen very closely to me," Shepard placed a hand on Tali's shoulder, and locked eyes with her. "You are my comrade, my shipmate, and my friend. As far as I am concerned, there is always a place for you on the Normandy and on my squad. Do you understand?"
"Yes, Adrian." She didn't even bother trying to keep the quaver out of her voice. A place on the Normandy! The frigate wasn't part of the Fleet, but to hear that she had earned her spot on a crew…this crew…her heart leapt.
"Still, I'm not going to keep you from returning if you want to." He folded his hands on the table. "I know a little something about missing family, myself."
Tali smiled under her mask. They had talked about Shepard's parents, how their military service had often meant one or both of them were gone. "Thank you, Captain," Shepard raised an eyebrow at her misstatement of his rank, "but the mission still seems incomplete."
"Well, it is." Shepard shrugged. "Saren and Sovereign might both be dead, but the geth are still out there, and Sovereign was just one of the Reapers. I don't know about you, but I get the feeling that they wouldn't do things without multiple redundancy."
"You think there are more Reapers still in the galaxy, Shepard?"
"Maybe not that, but something nasty working for them, some alarm network…I couldn't say. It's just a hunch, really."
"You hunches have been surprisingly prescient, Shepard."
"Disturbing, isn't it?" he asked with a wry grin.
"When you put it like that, yes. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Yes." Shepard tapped the second OSD. "I told you this is partly Alliance business." Tali cocked her head to the side as she waited for Shepard to go on. "It's also related to the Reaper threat."
"What isn't, these days?" she asked with a lilting tone.
"Nothing," he stated in a sober tone. "Absolutely nothing. You remember Vigil?"
"Of course." The VI had been fascinating, right on the border of an AI. Or perhaps it had been an AI, long corrupted by the millennia.
"The Protheans broke the cycle, and thanks to Vigil we know what we're up against. Thanks to Joker, we know they can be killed." He smiled at that. "But they take a lot of killing, and there are a lot of them. The galaxy is going to need to be prepared." He looked as if he wanted to stand and pace. "I remember you once saying that on the Migrant Fleet you couldn't afford the luxury of sexism." She nodded and he went on. "Well, that's true for the galaxy now. And not just for sexism. Prejudices of all types are going to have to go out the window. We can't afford to waste the resources, materiel or personnel. All of us will need to stand together to face the Reapers. Granted, I'm not sure how in the hell we'll bring the batarians on board, but we've got to try at the very least."
Tali stared at the Spectre. It was striking how consumed the man was with the issue, even after Saren's death and with the Normandy essentially sitting still. "Anything you need, Shepard." She meant it too.
He tapped the second OSD again. "This is a draft of a treaty between the Migrant Fleet and the Systems Alliance."
Tali's eyes flew open and her muscles tensed and relaxed in turn. "A treaty? From a Council race?" She could hardly believe it.
"Only just," said Shepard with a trace of humor, then sobered again. "Tali, your people have the largest fleet in the galaxy, and right now it's little more than a life-support system for your race, and one that operates on far too slim a margin." She didn't bother arguing. Shepard was right. "The galaxy is going to need the military might the Migrant Fleet represents if we're going to make it through this, not to mention the brilliance and technical savvy of your people."
Tali shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. "Shepard, no government has held true diplomatic relations with the Migrant Fleet since the Geth Uprising."
"Dumbasses." Shepard's profanity was blunt and to the point. "A million fools saying that something wrong is right don't make it any less wrong." He pushed the OSD over to her.
"Was this Anderson's idea?" asked Tali as she looked over the disk in her hands.
"Mine, actually, but Anderson is driving the execution."
"Yours?"
"The Normandy gave me the idea, actually," he said, patting the bulkhead behind him. "You know that she's a human and turian collaborative venture. I figure that there's no reason the Alliance and the Migrant Fleet can't work together on a similar project as an overture to a more extensive alliance, or even perhaps a merger."
"Merger?" blurted out Tali.
"Wouldn't the assholes in Terra Firma and Cerberus just love that?" murmured Shepard.
"Shepard, I know we only number in the millions, but there is no way my people will become a client state!"
"I never said anything about that, Tali." Shepard leaned back in his chair. "The Systems Alliance is not as monolithic as it often appears. It would certainly be within the realm of possibility to add the Migrant Fleet, or maybe even Rannoch in as one of the Alliance's charter members."
The helmet prevented him from seeing her gaping mouth, but she got the feeling that he could read her expression just fine in her body language. "Shepard…"
He held up a hand. "I'm getting ahead of things. Right now this is limited to a polite inquiry to the Admiralty Board if they would like to participate in the System Alliance's new fighter development project."
"I would imagine they will say yes."
"Excellent. I need you to send this message to them. Hand-deliver it, if you think it best, use the comm. buoys if you think that would work better."
"Hand delivery would probably be best," she mused.
"It's your decision Tali, though I hope this won't be the last time I see you."
"Of course not, Shepard. With any luck I will be assigned to the project anyway."
Shepard and she stood. "Thank you, Tali'Zorah nar Raaya. Clear skies." He held out his hand and she took it. "Keelah selai."
"And to you too, Commander. Keelah selai." She saluted the man. Tali turned and walked out with a bittersweet taste in her mouth, even as the sound of an incoming message was cut off by Shepard's door closing behind her.
One month after the devastating geth attack on the Citadel, the galactic community struggles to rebuild.
The Alliance fleet made a tremendous sacrifice to save the Citadel Council and earned humanity membership in this prestigious group. Now the Council is forced to respond to evidence that the Reapers - enormous machines that eradicate all organic civilization every 50,000 years have returned. To quell the rumors, the Council has sent Commander Shepard and the Normandy to wipe out the last pockets of geth resistance. Officially, they blame the invasion on the geth and their leader, a rogue Spectre.
But for those who know the truth, the fight has not yet begun. One, a young Quarian, returning from her Pilgrimage, carries an invitation…and a warning, to her people.
Space seemed to twist as the SSV Normandy jumped into system above the planet Alchera. Almost immediately, the ship went dark, capturing its emissions in its one-of-a-kind stealth system.
At the helm, Jeff Moreau, better known as Joker, let his fingers fly over the flight console's haptic interface. "FTL drive disengaged, IES engaged. Board is green, we are running silent." He twitched the frigate through a few test maneuvers using the Tantalus stealth drive. "Response time's down by nearly an eight of a second."
"You've been spoiled, Joker." Navigator Pressly tapped at a datapad.
"I'm just saying, the Normandy never ran better than when we had Tali down in engineering."
"I'm sure Adams would be happy to hear that."
"You kidding? He's been bitching too. Man, I wish the Commander kept her aboard."
"Well, we're probably wasting time. Four days of searching up and down this sector, and we haven't found any sign of geth activity."
"Three ships went missing here in the past month. Something happened to them."
"My money's on slavers. The Terminus Systems are crawling with them."
Joker shrugged and opened his mouth to respond before the sensor tech sang out. "Picking up something on passives. Unidentified vessel. Hmm, looks like the upper range of cruiser scale." She sent the data over to Joker's station.
"Doesn't match any known signatures."
"Cruiser is changing course." The sensor tech sounded vaguely disbelieving as she watched the telemetry. "Now on intercept vector."
Pressly sat down at an open console, bringing up the sensor display himself. "Can't be. Stealth systems are engaged. There's no way a geth ship could…"
"It's not the geth! Brace for evasive maneuvers!" Joker's fingers flew over the board, bending the Normandy's vector in a random series of skewing maneuvers "Go active on the ladar! Sir, this might be a good time for the GQ!"
Pressly slapped the hardwired button, not a haptic projection, for nothing this critical could be trusted to anything less than a hardline, and the general quarters alarm blared.
Then his console exploded as a relativistic particle beam smashed into the portmost engine, shearing it away in a burst of ignited fuel and Bremsstrahlung radiation. A power surge raced through the Normandy's power systems, setting off capacitors mounted not two feet from the man's head.
Pressly did not survive.
Shepard swore as the Normandy shuddered, skipping aside as a sleeper pod came off the bracket and skidded past him in a bow wave of sparks. The klaxons and damage control's litany of damage codes were muffled for a moment as he jammed his armor's helmet on, the onboard systems taking a few seconds to boot up. And just as he was setting the message beacon, the damage control team's reports cut out altogether in a squeal of static.
That doesn't bode well, he thought.
"Commander!" Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko dodged an explosion a crewmember in shirtsleeves wasn't so lucky to, even as Shepard keyed in the last sequence.
"Beacon is ready for launch." Shepard mashed the key flat.
"You think the Alliance will get here in time?" asked Kaidan.
"They won't just abandon us." Shepard grabbed a fire extinguisher and tossed it to Kaiden. "Besides, I'm not doing all this for nothing. We just need to hang on. Get everyone to the escape pods."
"Joker's still in the cockpit. You know he won't abandon ship. I'm not leaving either, not…"
"Alenko, I need you to get the crew to the pods. I'll take care of Joker."
"Commander…" An explosion made the deck buck under them.
"Kaidan. Go." The Normandy shuddered. "Now."
"Aye sir." Kaidan turned to leave, even as Shepard triggered the abandon ship.
Screams rang out as another particle beam lanced into the ship and pierced through the ship, right in front of Shepard. Explosions warred with the rush of escaping air to overpower the eardrums.
"That's not good," he muttered to himself, dodging to the side and heading for the stairs. He swiped a potassium iodide pill off the inside of his helmet with his tongue and swallowed it down. No point in even checking the dosimeter on this one. He just hoped the pill hadn't been ruined by the close exposure. Maybe the armor's rad shielding had done its job. Maybe.
One stairway was a mass of sparking wire and insulation, all tangled wreckage. Shepard spun on his heel and charged up through the thinning air. Thumps rattled the disintegrating frigate as escape pods launched, explosive charges punching the stricken Normandy. The Spectre bounced off the wall and drove for the door, slapping the open and override. The last of the air gusted out into space.
Shepard swore. The galaxy map was little more than a flickering ruin, and the ventral hull of the Normandy was ripped open like a used ration packet, a hole blown through the deck, obviously the handiwork of the same beam that nearly got him. Yellow light flared as the beam ripped into the Normandy like a bandsaw into soft cheese. Beyond it Shepard could make out the blue glow of an active kinetic barrier, keeping the helm pressurized.
That was when the Normandy started, soundlessly, to rip apart.
"This is just not my day, is it?" asked Shepard in disbelief as the bow separated from the aft, slowly drifting apart as soundless explosions broke the Normandy's spine. "Well, fuck." Joker's pressure wasn't going to last for long, not separated from the main power core like that. The Spectre estimated range, closing velocity, calculated exactly how stupid his next move was going to be. Shepard ignored his conclusions and leapt across the gap.
A particle beam flashed behind him, then the ship that had murdered his own flashed by in eerie silence. It was all metal spires and what looked like asteroids, it and almost the size of a small dreadnought. And then he was back in the faltering grav field of the bow. Shepard tucked and rolled, passing through the gravity interface with the deftness of a born spacer. A few steps brought him through the mass effect field. "Joker, it's past time to go!"
The creaky-legged pilot was still in his chair, a helmet his only concession to the death pressure environment being held back, for now, by the rippling blue curtain of dark energy behind him. "No! I won't abandon the Normandy. I can still save her!"
"Joker, she's a pretty lady, but she just lost everything below the shoulders! I'm not letting you throw your life away!" Shepard gestured back to the receding aft of the frigate.
Joker whistled as he glanced over his shoulder. "You're right. Help me out of the chair. Oh crap, Commander, they're coming around for another pass!"
Shepard snatched Joker out of the chair even as the pilot spoke, no time to consider the bones snapping under his grip. Joker would survive a broken arm. He wouldn't survive open space, not long, anyway, and he certainly wouldn't survive a blast by that particle beam. It was at that point that the gravity went out, along with the mass effect field keeping the last of the helm's air in.
Shepard didn't panic. Spacer kids knew that space didn't kill you instantly, and with Joker's helmet on, most of his fragile membranes were safe. Sure his skin was going to swell, and that was going to hurt like a bitch afterwards, but like the broken arm, it was treatable. And if anything, no air resistance and freefall had made Joker easier to move. With a grunt, Shepard hurled the pilot at the last escape pod's hatch. The landing would probably make for another few broken bones for Joker to bitch about, but he had to be alive to bitch, and that was the goal.
Joker was just starting to strap in, still swearing, as Shepard rebounded off the wall, heading for the door. On instinct, he caught himself short of the door as that dammed particle beam blew another hole in the Normandy, right in front of him, and started cutting away at the segment of ship that housed the escape pod.
You have got to be kidding me. What, are they targeting my suit's eezo core? Shepard shook his head and triggered the pod launch, even as the beam touched off yet another explosion. He wasn't getting to that pod, and he could at least save Joker.
The voice of his OCS instructor filled his head as the last escape pod on this part of the ship jettisoned. What now Lieutenant? Shepard looked about the disintegrating bow of the Normandy. It was looking to be a very unhealthy place to stay.
"Adapt, improvise, overcome," he grunted to himself, flinging himself towards the shot-up, but marginally more intact aft, even as that dammed particle beam blew the section to glowing splinters. Shepard grunted as glowing hot shrapnel sliced into him. His head jerked involuntarily as a hole opened in his visor. Hissing filled his ears. That wasn't good, that wasn't good at all. As long as his suit's air supply held out, he was fine. But as soon as it ran out...a matter of minutes, not hours, and that was if he was lucky. Once the air supply was out, pressure would drop to zero in less than a second.
He pushed the pain out of his mind and snagged the ruin of the galaxy map. Pain flared in his shoulder. The hardsuit kept him from dislocating it, barely. That was good. He didn't have the time to reset it and doing it in null-gee was a pain. That beacon better not have fouled up. He pulled himself hand over hand towards the hole the particle beam had punched through all three decks of the Normandy. I could use a little luck today.
The wreck shuddered, and Shepard cursed. Well, at least he had plenty of bad luck today. That felt like another particle beam hit. He swore again as the red-hot edges of the decking burned into his suit gloves as he pulled himself down into the second deck. A misfiring grav plate that apparently hadn't gotten the memo to give up the ghost dragged him into an uncontrolled tumble that folded him around a stanchion. Pain flared in his gut. No time to worry about it. Move, Shepard!
He moved. His fingers scrabbled across the deck, finding purchase in the little ridges of fits that had come loose through normal wear and tear…and battle damage. Gravity released him and he swung his legs up under him, into the hole in the deck.
The Kodiak was wrecked, carved by another particle beam, and stars spun in the breach its fuel systems had torn in the hull. The quartermaster's body drifted by, riddled by shrapnel and missing an arm. A trail of sparking ruby crystals trailed behind him, and Shepard winced. The oxygen alarm light started flashing.
"Adapt, improvise, overcome," he muttered to himself, the sound attenuated by the low pressure. His eyes looked over the bay. Oh boy. HALO time. He kicked off the Kodiak and headed for the Mako, snagging an equipment rail. The hatch opened smoothly, and he slid in, dogging the hatch shut behind him. A punch at the Mako's startup switch started the cabin pressurization, and just in time as he pulled off his hardsuit helmet. "Okay Shepard. You've got air. Now get clear." A spasm of nausea wracked him. Not drop sickness, he never had gotten that. Rad sickness. Looked like the suit hadn't entirely done it's job. And roughly five minutes to onset...the Alliance had better get there quick or he was going to die in the Mako, wheter or not that damn beam tagged him. Vomit burst from his mouth, a drowning hazard in freefall.
Not letting himself pause, he swarmed up into gunner's station. In freefall the weapons system would make a passable maneuvering system with the eezo recoil reducers off. He stomped on the traverse pedal, aiming the 155mm mass accelerator cannon towards the rear of the bay, and triggering the drop ramp to open with his omni-tool. He took a deep breath. "I know it hasnt been a day for it, but…Dear lord, don't let me fuck up." He pulled the trigger.
Shepard would never know whether it was the 155mm explosive round or the particle beam that blew the Tantalus drive core, sending the Mako spinning through space and shredding the last remains of the Normandy. He had been knocked unconscious by the blast as he hit his head against the turret's targeting display. He was still unconscious as the M35 Mako entered the atmosphere.
And that's the first chapter. I hope you enjoyed. Reviews and criticism are of course, welcome and encouraged. I'd like to give a big thanks to bioldrawings, my excellent beta, without whom this would not have been nearly as good. Until next time.
