So, this would be my first fan-fic. Universe, races, and Shepard property of Bioware. Named characters are original creations. Reviews will be welcomed! Was intended to be a one-shot but the story kind of got away from me, so I hope you enjoy it and stick with it to the end.

Innocence Sacrificed

June 30 2170 CE, Mindoir Colony, 0100 Local Time

Darkness prevailed over a small colony, out on the edges of the interstellar Empire established by humanity. Decades ago, human kind found ruins on Mars that pre-dated the oldest cities on Earth, and within discovered radical new technologies. Most important among these discoveries was a rare, previously undiscovered element. Using this element, one could control the very fabric of space-time. It was hailed as the greatest discovery in human history, and enabled an unprecedented explosion in technology, allowing humans to travel faster than light and become a true space-faring species.

Over the years, humanity would establish various colonies and make contact with a wide variety of alien races, eventually joining the galactic community properly, but this expansion has not been without conflict. The chief rival for control of a segment of Citadel Space referred to as the Skyllian Verge is a four-eyed race of aliens called the Batarians. Ever since the Citadel refused to declare the Verge a zone of Batarian interest they have waged a proxy war through pirates and slavers against the fledgling human empire.

This was all just history to young Damian Shepard though; he was just a sixteen year old boy with dreams of being rich, famous, and all sorts of other things. Like most young men he found himself up late at night, using the colonial extranet connection to browse for entertainment when he should be in bed. His room didn't have much in the way of furniture: a bed, a desk, a shelf for school books, and a computer. The walls were gunmetal grey, a standard room within a pre-fabricated structure, decorated with digital frames that usually showed the heroes of some action vid, but at night or when his parents were away were switched to more alluring images of beautiful, scantily clad Asari with come-hither looks… in all a very standard room for a 22nd century teenager.

His home was a standard pre-fabricated unit. Usually such units were clustered together in a sort of makeshift 'city', but his parents opted for the seclusion of the outskirts, and had set themselves up as farmers. They made a good living tilling the land, growing food, and even raising some livestock for protein.

He glanced up out the window and saw various lights shooting across the sky, he had an interest in astronomy and was expecting this event. A meteor shower, prompted by a comet passing through the system, an event most paid little attention to unless they had a special interest. That was at least half the reason why young Damian was up at this hour, and he quickly opened up a nearby closet. Within, he found his telescope, a basic model with computer assisted rotation, the star charts within regularly updated through a wireless extranet connection and adjusted for the current location of the telescope in space determined by linking with comm-buoys, a gift from his 14th birthday and a must-have for any star-gazer away from the home world. The relative isolation of his home also made for excellent viewing, with the distance from the lights of the main 'city'.

The only other possession of note within that closet would be an incredibly expensive Volkov sniper-rifle. His father had been a marine sniper for years before settling on Mindoir with his family, and had taught Damian everything he knew about shooting. Although he loved guns and believed in the alliance, his ultimate dream was to explore the unknown, get a job on some survey ship as a navigator to find new worlds. Earlier that evening his father looked rather pale, and handed the rifle on to his son saying that he "felt it was time to pass it on," over the objections of his mother who didn't think Damian was old enough to be with a rifle, but eventually gave in.

The weapon itself was unique even among its line. It had the standard white frame, with black barrel and stock. His father had showed him how to strip it, how to clean it, how to adjust the stock for his height, and had gotten good enough to put a round through a Varren's eye at 300 meters. Though the weapon dated back to a few years after first contact, weapons technology had not changed at all in that time, meaning that this gun was still state of the art. The most unsettling thing about the weapon though was on one side, carved into ceramic, a running tally of kills. It was unnerving knowing exactly how many lives his father had taken, Damian rationalized this, saying that those were mostly slavers… but he still wondered why his father wanted to bequeath this weapon to him NOW, of all times. Was his father dying? Did he think that his son had changed his mind about military service?

As he grabbed his telescope to go outside he noticed something was odd about the meteor shower. Normally, most of the meteors would burn up within a few moments of hitting the atmosphere, and they had hit 20 minutes earlier than he had expected. What really chilled his blood was that some of the meteors seemed to be getting bigger. Without thinking he exchanged the telescope for the rifle, hit the safety switch on the side so the normally compact weapon could extend to its full, lethal length, and pointed it through the window, peering through the telescopic sight. He looked at the shapes of the "meteors", and realized they looked more like ships. His thoughts started running at a mile a minute as he analyzed the situation in the way his father taught him to:

There is a meteor shower approaching, so it'd not be safe for atmospheric entry. No transports expected for the next few days, if a distress call had been sent then he'd know about a crisis before a relief force arrived, they were off major trade routes so couldn't just be a random stop-over, and the incoming meteor shower means unannounced arrivals would want to play it safe and wait to land unless they wanted to use it as cover, which means…

"DAD!" he cried out. His father immediately rushed into the room. A tall, lithe man, not incredibly muscular but still strongly built.

"What do…" his father paused when he saw his son holding his rifle and looking out the window with it at the meteor shower. His instincts raced and he snatched up the weapon, within a few moments of looking where his son had been aiming he had reached the same conclusions. "Go to the armory, grab everything you can, I'll radio the main colony and…" his father was cut off by the sudden crack of a rail-gun.

The plan was brilliant in spite of, or perhaps because of, its simplicity. Alliance patrols in this section of space were infrequent, and the nearest response fleet was about two days away. The colony was large, but the garrison force wasn't strong enough to repel a determined assault. Using the meteor storm as cover the primary force would get close to the colony and bombard the communication's relay. While the sudden loss of communication would provoke the deployment of a response team, the alliance wouldn't know how many ships to send. With luck, this would cause an over-reaction and leave other colonies vulnerable. However, they couldn't risk somebody on the outskirts sending in vital information, or even playing hero. That is where Farthan's team came in.

They had landed far enough away that even standard patrols were unlikely to spot them. His team, consisting entirely of former Special Intervention Unit operatives, the best soldiers in the galaxy, marched for weeks on foot. They knew exactly how long it would take to get into position and do their job, and as expected their estimations were exact. His team had split up to take the other settlements, leaving this one to him and his spotter Chambak.

Farthan had found a nice little hilltop and then looked at the structure in front, it wasn't anything special. One of the windows were on and he saw through his scope a human, looked like a child… teenagers didn't sell well as slaves because they tended to be defiant. Pre-adolescents could be made to serve, post-adolescent and they could be broken, but during that time trying to control them was like trying to control a blood raging Krogan. It was possible, but was usually more than it was worth. Still, he his job wasn't to grab slaves, he took aim and just before he fired he froze.

He watched as the teenager shouldered a Volkov series sniper rifle, but this particular rifle looked familiar. Battle scars showing its age, and the markings carved into the side listing out kills. Of all the humans Farthan fought, he only knew one that actually carved their kill count into the weapon instead of just using a marker. After studying the boy's features for a few more moments, familiarity surged through him and his blood began to boil in rage. Then the boy's father walked in, and in that moment, he realized… it was HIM.

September 14, 2166, Tibet Colony, 1538 Local Time

Farthan squinted in frustration, that damn sniper has been picking off his men for the past three hours. Damned humans, for all their disadvantages, this one could shoot… or maybe they hired some Asari mercenaries. He wouldn't be shocked, blue whores have been making these cockroaches of the galaxy their new favorites ever since the Turians got their asses handed to them. His SIU team was drafted to assist pirate and slaver raids against human colonies, and right now a small part of him was starting to regret that.

His most common assignment was chasing down runaway humans and putting a round in their legs so they couldn't get very far before pickup, or just kill them if it was too much trouble. He longed for a real fight, a way to prove that the humans were overrated and that a good Batarian soldier could grind them into paste, and when he finally gets his chance he gets pinned down behind a ruined metal wall by a sniper somewhere across a bombed out no-man's-land. He might take a chance with just gunning the sniper down, he was sure his reflexes were better, but the shooter had hid himself within a large structure and was smart enough to change firing positions, and there were a lot he could choose from. Furthermore, this sniper had prepared the building before his arrival and used an old sniper's trick where they kept to the shadows in places where the light couldn't get in, effectively allowing them to see out without a counter-sniper seeing them in turn.

Basically, this was the absolute worst case scenario, and it didn't help that he had about twenty minutes before he had to run since the Alliance had arrived and was cleaning house. The larger raiding ships had been obliterated but some of the smaller shuttles were still running around, evading alliance fighters as best they can. Not trusting these idiots, Farthan bribed a Quarian to pick him up. It was simple enough offer: Farthan had a ship, he'd give it to the Quarian if he arrived at the designated coordinates at a certain time. The ship was set up with a self-destruct timer, so if Farthan didn't deactivate it in time it'd explode. The little space gypsy was desperate and so agreed to the terms.

He looked at his spotter, his brother. They had joined SIU together and both managed to not only survive the training but made it into the unit. They worked so well together that they were paired into a sniper team. Forshan was a bit of a hot-head, but did his job incredibly well. Together, he and Farthan probably could have beat back the entire Alliance military… if they were officially allowed to get involved.

Farthan poked out briefly and then ducked down just as another round hit his cover. The sniper would relocate, but would set up in time to take them down before either he or Forshan could find new cover. They learned that when a third member of their group, one of the pirates, had made a break for it after that shot and received a hole in the head for his troubles. If they had more pirates they could just use them as shields and make a run for it, but that wasn't likely to happen. Farthan keyed his radio, the universe owed him a favor by now anyway and maybe he'll get lucky…

"This is Hunter 1 to any Batarian forces in the area. If you're out there and have it I need smoke at my position." He hoped that there was SOMEBODY out there with what he needed, if not then he and his brother were both as good as dead.

"You know, even with smoke if he has thermals he'll still be able to kill us," Forshan stated matter-of-factly.

"Yah, but it'll take a few seconds for him to turn them on, plus we've got better barriers than that pirate there,"

"Phasic rounds to the head tend to be lethal, barrier or no,"

"We'll be fine,"

Suddenly Farthan's radio crackled to life, finally the universe was doing him a favor it seems, "This is Zaysh's Revenge to Hunter 1, we'll be passing over your position and can drop some smoke on our way out but I'm not stopping to pick you up with those frigates overhead, and don't bother asking for fire support as we're empty"

"We've got an exit, just drop it and go," you worthless asshole Farthan had to avoid spitting out. This was why he hated working with pirates, no loyalty, no sense of community, no sense of duty, just profit and where profits fail keeping their own skin intact. Though, at least these scumbags were predictable in their uselessness. He watched as the ship rocketed by and dropped its payload of smoke in the designated no-man's land. Farthan peered just enough over the barricade to see the smoke filling the courtyard,

"OK, on three you go first, there is a building over there we can use for cover, once we get in there we can pick off the sniper then make for the extraction point. Move in 3… 2… 1… GO NOW!"

Forshan darted out first, then Farthan. They moved as fast as they could, running for the comparative safety of another ruined pre-fabricated structure, he nervously scanned the left, watching the smoke fill the area. His brother was ahead and nearly safe… 50 meters, 40 meters, 30, 20, 10, 5…

...a loud crack echoed again, the smoke billowed as a small sliver of metal sheathed in phasic jacketing tore through the air at over 1% the speed of light, the round hit his brother, his shields flickering for a moment to slow the round but failing to stop it completely, the sliver flattening as it hit the side of his helmet. Even though it was physically impossible for him to notice, Farthan swore he could see the crinkle of his brother's helmet as the tiny slug flattened against the ceramic shell, eventually breaking through and splitting Forshan's head apart. Without stopping Farthan himself passed his brother's lifeless body and made it into the cover afforded by this ruined building.

Rage engulfed him, fueled him, but thanks to his training he channeled that rage, he swore he would avenge his brother. He focused his mind, and analyzed the building, he could see all the sight lines, he knew what areas would mean death and what areas would be out of the line of sight of his target's hide. He slunk his way around and managed to find a nice spot on the second floor to try and locate his prey. Farthan peered through his scope, and after what felt like an eternity of searching he could make out his target just barely through the remaining wisps of smoke.

The enemy sniper wore N7 armor, the mark of the best the Alliance could offer. Farthan hated to admit it, but he held a begrudging respect for this particular breed, and were almost a match for the SIU… almost. Today, he would prove it once more. The sniper was facing away from him, he could see the Volkov series rifle gripped in the sniper's arms, his scope was zoomed in close enough that he could make out the scratches in the side. Some alliance snipers liked to track kills, but usually used a marker, this one actually carved his kills into the rifle with a knife, something he had never seen before. He placed his crosshairs over the face of this human, and could make out all the intricate details that made this particular human distinct from the rest. Farthan slowly squeezed the trigger, this man would pay for killing his brother today.

"Fuck these humans all to hell!" his radio suddenly screamed as he saw another of the pirate vessels screaming through the sky. This one was on fire unleashing the last of its payload wherever it could, one rocket flying right at Farthan's position. You stupid bastard… was all he could think before he was suddenly engulfed in flame, and claimed by darkness.

June 30 2170, Mindoir Colony, 0126 Local Time

Farthan rubbed the scars he received that day. His brother's killer had escaped, and he himself barely made it back to the rendezvous. He killed the Quarian who helped him escape, never did learn his name. For his own failure in that raid he was removed from the SIU, they stopped just short of executing him as a 'traitor' to his people, and so had to join up with these loathsome pirates and slavers, but eventually founded his own mercenary company. They were low key, and consisted only of former SIU members. They primarily hired themselves out for raids on human colonies, he was nothing if not loyal to the hegemony in spite of the injustice of his discharge. The profits were good to, but he was less concerned with that and more concerned with helping to expel these inter-stellar cockroaches from territory that rightfully belongs to the Batarians.

As he sighted down on the man who had killed his brother, this creature who thinks he is allowed to live a normal life after all he has done? No, nobody gets away, especially not this human. Flashing back to that moment, that lost opportunity four years ago, he squeezed the trigger.

Damian Shepard watched as his father's head came apart, standing there in shock as his body fell to the ground. He dropped to his knees and looked on in horror.

"Frank! Damian! What's going on!" his mother called, causing him to bring his head up for just a second.

Farthan waited for his weapon to cool for a couple seconds before sighting the teenager. He changed his assessment from earlier, having this kid as a slave would be sweet revenge… he would be his own personal slave. Suddenly the boy's head perked up in response to something and his spotter made a report,

"That other contact is moving on thermal, should be coming into range now," Chambak reported

"We're going down there," Farthan stated

"Wasn't the plan to kill everything that moved?"

"This is personal, I want those two alive if possible,"

"You're the boss."

They gathered up their equipment and sprinted down the hill, it would take them a couple moments to get down to the structure, but Farthan was confident they could get in before the humans escaped. Getting the man who killed his brother was satisfying, taking his family as his own personal property? This was a chance he couldn't pass up.

Damian's mother shrieked when she saw her husband dead on the ground, and began crying as her life seemed to come crashing down around her. Damian snapped out of it as he realized they were both still under the sniper's crosshairs.

"We need to go, the men who killed dad are still out there!" This seemed to snap his mother out of it, as she suddenly had an overwhelming urge to protect her child, her only progeny. She grabbed Damian by the hand to lead him outside, the young teenager hesitated only a moment so he could grab his father's rifle and then bolted out the door with his mother. They only got a few feet when another shot rang out, toppling his mother forward as the round shattered her leg.

"Run Damian! Go! Now!" she cried, urging her child onward. The teenager saw two armed Batarians approaching, one of them leveling a rifle at him. He didn't want to leave his mother behind but he still had no choice, he ducked and ran to the side around the corner of the pre-fab. Behind their home was a heavily wooded area, he had been warned not to go in there because these woods tended to swarm with varren, particularly at night. Probably why the Batarian sniper hadn't come this way.

He ran a bit into the forest and then stopped and turned around, he raised the rifle to get a good look at the two Batarians. As he gazed into the four eyes of this… monster… he burned the face into his mind. Normally he couldn't tell one Batarian from another, but this one… this one he would remember. His father had warned him about kinetic barriers and such, and knew that his first shot would just alert the Batarian and likely not kill, plus his buddy would certainly cut him down before he could make a second shot. So he turned and ran deeper and deeper into the forest, his movements followed by the howls of startled varren. He only paused once as heard another shot ring out, and then kept running.

Farthan cursed as the teenager bolted into the forest, watching the kid disappear into the night. He knew that those woods were overrun with varren, the kid would be food in 20 minutes if he wasn't already. A bit of a shame really… at least he had the woman. Chambak held her down as she screamed, her leg was badly torn up, a real pity.

"Hrm, didn't know human women could look so good," Chambak said. Farthan let out a disgusted grunt,

"For the love of… what kind of deviant are you? What? You screw Varren too? On second thought, don't answer that, don't want to know."

"Oh, who is going to tell, besides, we've been out here for…" a sudden shot left a smoking hole in the ground next to the woman and the spotter,

"You're not raping her. Patch up her wound, pick her up, and we'll head back to the main settlement to meet up with the main force. We're done with our sweep anyway."

"Fine, whatever you say…" Chambak muttered something about a 'hard-assed killjoy' before slapping some medi-gel on the wounded woman. He pulled out a tranquilizer and shoved it into the struggling woman's neck, he wasn't sure what the dosage required would be but even if it didn't knock her out it would at least make her tired enough to not struggle. He grabbed her and hefted her over her shoulder, following Farthan as they marched towards the main settlement where the battle for Mindoir had already begun.

And that concludes the first chapter, input (in the form of reviews) will be appreciated! Constructive criticism not only welcomed but encouraged.