Summary: The greatest war hero of one universe is Shaghaied to another reality that is in desperate need of his expertise.
Disclaimer: The Mass Effect game series is a property of Electronic Arts and Bioware. Poor Man's Fight is a brilliant military sci-fi book series by Eliot Kaye. I do not own either of them. This work of fiction is a product of my imagination however, and it only costs one view to read (there's little fanfiction joke for you). I will endeavor to keep spoilers for the book series to a minimum. But look, a lot of it cannot be helped. I needed to establish the character in this chapter.
Chapter 1:
"Mayday, mayday, mayday, this is Master at Arms Second Class Tanner Malone of the ANS Beowulf, mayday. My position coordinates ride this signal. Beowulf just… disappeared mid Oscar drill. I say again, Beowulf is gone. I am aboard a life boat that has sustained an impact and is leaking atmosphere. Life support readings are nearing the red zone. My Vac suit has a good seal, and I have two spare O2 cartridges, which gives me about an hour of air. Request immediate rescue and retrieval. Mayday, mayday, mayday."
"The message repeats," reported EDI.
Shepard looked around the conference room. "Anyone have any idea what kind of ship would have the prefix 'ANS'?" His eyes stopped on his XO, a woman in a black and white catsuit that complemented her alluring figure a little too well for it to be appropriate in… well, any setting really.
"For once, I don't have a clue." Miranda admitted.
"The distress call itself almost sounds like it's Alliance Navy," Jacob piped in, "but the protocol is off. The additional 'mayday' after the identification and the request term 'rescue and retrieval' are definitely not implemented by the Alliance or Cerberus."
Shepard nodded as he quietly wondered how Cerberus went about broadcasting their distress calls without attracting every Council vessel in a system like sharks to the dark allure of bloody waters. Then turned back to EDI's blue dot matrix avatar and asked, "How long ago was this transmission received?"
"Roughly seven minutes have passed since the transmission was received. Shall I lock in on the coordinates and plot a course?" She asked, anticipating the Commander's orders.
"Do it. Maximum impulse. And… EDI?"
"Yes Commander?"
"Patch me in to this guy."
"Master at Arms Second Class Malone," came a voice over his vac suit's comms, "this is Lieutenant Commander Shepard of the Normandy. We read your distress signal and are en route to your location. ETA thirty minutes."
Tanner put down the Damage Control kit and let out a sigh of relief. He would live to die another day—again. "Roger that, Normandy. Sitting tight."
Tanner covered a small DC patch with some instant adhesive and slapped it over the largest puncture he could find. He probably didn't have to buy any more time now that this "Normandy" ship—which he noticed the commander conveniently left out what faction his ship represented—was on its way. If he could stabilize the atmospheric pressure of the lifeboat, the terms of his survival might instead be in terms of remaining power or what provisions he had left.
He decided not to question his would-be rescuers. If they were pirates, NorthStar, or one of the other corporations that regarded him as a war criminal and wanted nothing more than to kill him, he would deal with them the way he had all the others…
With extreme prejudice.
"What the fuck is an 'Oscar drill'?" Jack asked, her curiosity finally getting the better of her.
"Well," Miranda said snidely from across the table, "Oscar is the naval term for man overboard, and a drill is a simulation meant to prepare for a real-life situation. Think you can do the math, or is two plus two too much for you?"
"Cheerleader…" Jack growled.
"Enough!" Shepard said with the kind of finality you'd expect someone to use with their misbehaving children. Both of the women backed down immediately, but the icy glares continued.
"EDI." He sighed. "We in range for active scanners to pick up Malone's lifeboat yet?"
"Not quite," EDI replied. "Active scanners will be in range in approximately two minutes."
"Okay good. As soon as we're in range, I want a full analysis of the lifeboat and the surrounding area. If this is some kind of trap I want to know beforehand, not after."
"Very well."
"In the meantime, I'm going to keep talking with Tanner. See what I can learn. Miranda, could you go get Kelly and bring her back here? Her psychological insight might be useful here."
Miranda nodded and left the room without a word.
As Tanner finished patching up the last leak he could find, his comm crackled to life. "Malone?"
"Speaking?" he replied, resisting the urge to kick the life support display as he watched the meter decline steadily, in spite of all he had done to stabilize it. "Fuck," he whispered under his breath.
"Can you tell me what the… ANS Beowulf was doing this far into the Terminus Systems?"
Terminus Systems? Tanner thought, the fuck is he talking about?
"That depends," Tanner remarked.
"On what?"
"On who you work for." Tanner said smartly. "You said you held the rank of Lieutenant Commander, then said nothing of what military you serve. That means I can either conclude one of two things: either that you're incompetent yet somehow rose to the rank you say you are, which I doubt. Or you're someone's corporate bitch. Pardon the slight breach in military etiquette," Tanner added glibly.
Shepard blinked.
Actually fucking blinked, Garrus thought. He had to admit, this kid had balls.
"Well, what is it?" Tanner prodded. "Corporate bitch or military douche? Come on, don't leave me hanging man."
All the eyes in the room were on him. Garrus was grinning like a maniac. Then the door suddenly opened and Miranda walked in with Kelly in her wake. She took one look around the room, and totally mystified by everyone's either shocked or amused expressions asked, "All right, what has he done this time?"
Garrus cackled, it was the best he could do to keep from breaking out into an all-out hysteric fit. "It wasn't actually Shepard this time, believe it or not." He said.
"Garrus?" Shepard drawled.
"Shepard?"
"Shut up."
"Shutting up." He even made a little zipping motion with his fore-talons that only made his grin widen further.
Of course, that all stopped when Shepard gave him the murderous glare of the century.
"So, what's going on?" Kelly asked all friendly-like, feeling she should try to break the tension.
Shepard groaned, "Only the most fucking annoying phone call of my second life."
"Okay..?"
He sighed. "There's some… guy in a lifeboat we're on our way to rescue. His name is Tanner Malone. He claims to be a Master at Arms Second Class, probably of some navy. He refuses to identify which one. Then he goes on to insult me because he thinks that either I'm some dumbass who's gotten lucky one too many times, or that I'm some corporate lapdog."
"So? You're Commander Shepard. How is it that some random person just got under your skin so easily?"
"It's just... I'm…"
"Yes…"
Gah, she's going to make me say it.
"I am so fucking hungry."
Kelly blinked. "What?"
"I stopped being able to pretend that Gardner's 'food' was edible about a week ago and my personal supply of MRE's has been done-so for about three days now. I am fucking starving and there's that stupid moron out there, pissing me off. I don't need that shit. I'm Commander Shepard. I have a galaxy to save. A very, very unappreciative galaxy to save," he grumbled.
It took about thirty seconds for everyone in the room to realize he was being serious.
Kelly put hand lightly on his shoulder and squeezed gently. "Well, look. How about I talk to Tanner? We'll pick him up and then right after that, we'll set a course for the Citadel, purchase some fresh provisions, and hope Gardner's meals will improve exponentially. In the meantime, you're going down to the mess and you're going to eat whatever crap Gardner puts in front of you. Does that sound okay?"
"Everything but that last part, yeah."
"Well, that's just too bad, cause… doctor's orders." Kelly decreed.
"She's a doctor?" Jacob whispered to Miranda.
"No, she's really not." Miranda hinted. "So, shush!"
"Okay," Shepard said finally. He started inching towards the door. "I'll go. Call me back if the ship suddenly comes under attack. Or if we suddenly decide shooting that adrift asshole is in the mission's best interest." He sighed almost wistfully. "Either works, really."
Shepard seemed to hang in front of the open door.
"Will you just go?"
"Okay, okay!" He huffed. "I'm gone." He passed through the doorway and it slammed shut and locked behind him before Shepard could so much as ponder going back on his word.
"Thank you EDI." Kelly said.
"I did what was best for the mission," the AI told her. "But you are most welcome Kelly Chambers."
With the matter settled, Kelly walked over to the center console and patched herself into Tanner.
"Tanner?" A feminine voice cut into the silence.
"Uh, yeah? Did something happen to the Commander?"
"No, he… There was something else on the ship that garnered his attention."
Why does she sound ironic?
"Uh, huh…"
"Look, let's just start over. I'm Kelly. I'm the Normandy's Yeoman. I can answer any questions you might have, within reason of course."
"Right," Tanner jeered. "Would it be within reason for you to tell me what corporation or organization or whatever you work for?"
"No, it would be within reason and under the circumstances, it is perhaps fair that I tell you. We work for an organization called Cerberus."
"Never heard of it," Tanner replied. "What is it you do?"
"We look after the interests of humanity. We do what we can to make sure that the human race has a place at the table, a seat of equal power with the other species in the galaxy, if you will."
"No kidding." He quipped. "Does that come with good benefits?"
"We do get a killer health plan," Kelly replied humorously. "Dental included."
"Sounds nice," Tanner said. "The best I get at times on that front is an auto-suture, which I'm relatively certain was invented by a sadist."
"What's an auto-suture?"
"You don't know?"
How does she not know?
"No."
"It's what the military uses in the field to treat battle injuries. You attach them to the site of a wound and they patch it up. You usually use them while still in the midst of combat, so you're generally advised to take treatment without anesthetic. Hurts like Hell, but it gets the job done."
"Hmmmm." Kelly hummed, genuinely interested in hearing more, but there was another part of Tanner's story that she still needed to know. "And what military would that be?" she asked.
"Here's the part where I ask you guys to trust me. To see through the bullshit NorthStar says about me and know that I am not the monster they say I am. Do you think you could do that?"
"Ummm… Okay?"
"That'll just have to do, won't it?" Tanner sighed. "Okay. I serve the Archangel Navy. Named for my home system. It's a small system in one of the farther out solar clusters from Earth with four habitable planets in it: Raphael, Uriel, Gabriel, and Michael."
"Uh… Tanner, do you mind if we get back to you?"
"No, sure. Take your time." It's not like my life support just flatlined or anything.
"EDI?" Kelly asked.
"I have no record of the mentioned system, nor the planets in it."
"Nothing?"
"Shall I check again? I can assure you, the chances of a result magically appearing are extremely slim, but very much there. Much like—"
"Thank you, EDI, but no, that will not be necessary." Kelly cut her off.
A couple eyes in the room suddenly found their way to Garrus.
"Look," he said. "It was a name that Omega natives just started calling me. I swear I don't have anything to do with this."
"No one thinks you do," Kelly assured him, then turned back to EDI. "Is there any chance he was lying?"
"Speech patterns suggest probability of deception to be highly unlikely."
"So, there's a system somewhere out there with human beings living in it that no one in the galaxy seems to know about it, including us?"
"According to Tanner Malone, yes."
"Impossible," Miranda scoffed.
"Says little miss 'Lazarus Project'," Jack pointed out.
Miranda opened her mouth to shoot back, then closed it when she realized that she actually agreed with the abrasive woman on something, which she found slightly horrified her.
"Uh, guys," Tanner cut in.
"What is it Tanner?" Kelly asked.
"I've got a bit of a problem. Someone must not have refilled my spare O2 cartridges properly. I've only got the one pushing air to my vac suit right now. The HUD says I got less than fifteen minutes till I make like a fish out of water. How far out did you guys say you were again?"
"EDI?" Kelly whispered.
"Twenty minutes," EDI told her.
"Tanner, we're twenty min—"
"I heard. I'll do what I can to conserve air. Y'know, take really deep breaths."
"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea." Kelly said.
"I'm also gonna go radio silent, not that this conversation hasn't been all kinds of interesting."
"Okay, just hang in there Tanner."
"Yeah," he breathed. "No problem."
His comm clicked off and the room fell eerily silent.
"Is there anything we can do to increase our speed?" Kelly asked the room.
"Engines are running at 100% of recommended capacity," EDI reported.
"In laymen's terms, yes." Miranda clarified. "But the ship wouldn't recommend it and I can't say I would either."
"What do you mean?" Kelly exclaimed incredulously. "Miranda, that's a human being out there that needs our help. We have to do whatever we can to save him."
"He's not mission pertinent," Miranda justified. "If we are going to burn out the engines on this multi-billion credit vessel, we are going to do it at a time and place when such an action is required. The deficit between our arrival and Tanner running out of air are close enough that there's a legitimate possibility that he'll be just fine if he keeps his cool, and keeps his breath steady."
Kelly shook her head, still failing to see through Miranda's cold logic. "He's alone out there. You know what it's like for inmates that are subjected to solitary confinement? Studies show that time seems to slow relatively for the inmates as there is nothing to occupy their minds. Seconds turn to hours, hours turn to days, and days turn to years. He could start panicking at any point. He only has our word that there's any help coming at all. No other confirmation. Do you think you could keep your cool under those circumstances?"
Miranda looked down and shook her head. "Damn it." Leave it to the damn shrink to make her feel guilty about something she really didn't think she should feel anything of the sort about.
The sigh she let out almost sounded painful. "EDI, instruct Donnelly and Daniels to begin running the ship at a modulated 105 burn. And… let Shepard know about this only after as he's done eating." She added.
"What's a modulated 105 burn?" Kelly asked Miranda after she got over her surprise.
"It's the safest kind of overheat run there is on a ship like this." Miranda explained. "The ship runs at 110 for a short period of time, then intermittently reverts back to 100 to give the engines time to recover before the next overheat. It should increase our acceleration enough to improve Tanner's chances."
"Do you have a new ETA for us EDI?" Kelly asked.
"Seventeen minutes."
"Okay, so that means the modulated burn shaved off three minutes." Kelly reasoned.
"Two minutes." EDI corrected her. "It took about a minute for you to implement the modulated burn."
"Okay," Kelly sighed, only slightly relieved. "At least Tanner has a fighting chance now."
"Why don't you keep talking to him," Miranda proposed. "Give him something other than the silence of a vacuum to listen to and keep his mind at ease. We'll go over the active scans of his life boat and devise the most expedient extraction plan we can."
Kelly looked at her superior officer with a new light from that moment on, because she knew there was something more to this woman's cold, hard, and unforgiving demeanor. Something that dirty work and years of self-propelled professionalism had failed to drive out—Miranda was a good person, even if she didn't know it.
Especially if she didn't know it.
"Yes, that would be perfect." Kelly turned and looked the woman right in her gray-blue eyes and said. "Thank you, Miranda."
"Don't mention it."
"Tanner, it's Kelly. Don't talk. Just let me… okay?"
Tanner found himself nodding stupidly.
Maybe I'm delirious. Or on my way to delirium. He thought.
"We started our ship on something called a modulated burn. Long story short, it shaved about two minutes off our arrival time. I hope that reassures you."
It did. Tanner would have taken a three minute deficit over a five minute one any day.
"Everyone else is putting their heads together trying to figure out the quickest way to get you aboard. You happen to have the best of the best up here, I'll have you know. You couldn't have picked a better day to get stranded in the middle of space."
That last comment almost made him laugh. The best time to get stranded in space was never. Still, he appreciated her trying to help him keep his cool. Whatever she was doing was working.
"You know, I've never actually been in an open vacuum like you are now. Hardly ever experienced null gravity. At times I find myself in the starboard observation room gazing out at the stars in wonder. They're so pretty aren't they? Maybe when this is all over, you could tell me all about it."
Okay, that did it. He had to reply somehow. This was just killing him. Tanner engaged his holocom and typed out a message over the same subspace signal he had used for audio. With any luck, the Normandy's communication array would recognize it as a text message and push it to Kelly rather than filter it out as a useless data packet containing no noise.
"Receiving text-based transmission from Tanner," EDI reported.
"Go ahead and push it to my console."
Within moments, the words "I REALLY FUCKING HATE IT OUT HERE." Appeared in bold, capital letters in the center console's display.
Kelly laughed. "I know Tanner. I'm sorry."
"WHAT FOR?"
"I'm not entirely sure to be perfectly honest," Kelly admitted. "I tend to apologize for no apparent reason at times. It drove my parents crazy to no end."
"THAT'S OKAY. IT HAPPENS, I GUESS."
"What about you, Tanner? You have any peculiar little neuroses?"
"ONLY REALLY, REALLY SHITTY, ABOMINABLE LUCK. DOES THAT COUNT?"
"Not really. Not unless you obsess over it."
"IF THIS CURRENT STREAK OF MINE CONTINUES, I JUST MIGHT."
"Just hang in there Tanner. You don't know it yet, but you're luck has already changed for the better."
"IS THAT SO?"
"Yes. Care to challenge me on that fact?"
"WELL THAT'S NOT EXACTLY FAIR NOW, IS IT?"
"What's not fair?"
"I CAN'T ARGUE WITH ONE OF THE PEOPLE GOING OUT OF THEIR WAY TO RESCUE ME. THAT'S JUST AN EMPIRICALLY BAD IDEA."
"Then you should have no reason to doubt me in the slightest when I say we're going to get there on time. You're going to be fine Tanner."
"RIGHT…"
"I KNEW ANOTHER KELLY, ONCE. Y'KNOW?"
"OF COURSE THAT WAS HER LAST NAME. I'M GUESSING KELLY'S YOUR FIRST?"
"You guess correctly."
"I'M STARTING TO THINK THAT IT DOESN'T MATTER WHETHER OR NOT IT COMES FIRST OR LAST. YOU KELLYS ARE GOOD PEOPLE."
"Thanks Tanner, that's nice of you to say."
"THINK NOTHING OF IT. MY AIR'S DOWN TO SIX MINUTES NOW. AT THIS POINT, I'M JUST SAYING WHATEVER POPS INTO MY HEAD."
"Wait," Kelly replied worriedly. "That can't be right. We're still ten minutes out. You've lost an entire minute. You were supposed to be making up time, not giving it up!"
"I KNOW. I'M TRYING HERE. REALLY. I AM. SERIOUSLY DON'T WANT TO DIE. ESPECIALLY BY ASPHYXIATION. NOT FUN."
"Well, try harder."
"THAT'S EASY FOR YOU TO SAY."
"IT MAY BE SOMETHING THAT CAN'T BE HELPED ALTOGETHER. MY VAC SUIT MAY HAVE A TEAR SOMEWHERE. SOMETIMES THE SUIT DOESN'T DETECT THE RUPTURE. IT HAPPENS. IF THERE IS ONE, IT'S PROBABLY TOO SMALL FOR ME TO FIND. NO SOUND IN HERE EITHER TO GIVE ME A CLUE AS TO WHERE TO LOOK."
"Well regardless, you better not stop trying to stay alive."
"I WON'T. I JUST DON'T WANT YOU TO EXPECT ANY MIRACLES. I THINK I MIGHT HAVE ALREADY USED UP WHATEVER ONES I HAD A LITTLE WHILE AGO."
"On what?"
"KICKING SOME OLD PIRATE'S ASS. CAPTURING NORTHSTAR'S FLAGSHIP. COMMANDEERING A TANK FROM SOME CORPORATE ZEALOTS AND SOME WOULD-BE DICTATOR'S GOONS WITH A COUPLE GRENADES, A SHODDY DISGUISE, AND A RIFLE. KNOCKING OUT ONE OF MY BEST FRIEND'S IN BASIC WITH A SINGLE PUNCH. YOU NAME IT, CHANCES ARE I'VE DONE IT. OR SOMETHING LIKE IT."
"Having done all of that, do you really think a lack of oxygen is going to be the thing to take you down?"
"NOT REALLY, NO. BUT IT HAD TO HAPPEN AT SOME POINT DIDN'T IT? IT HAD TO BE SOMETHING. I'VE NEVER BEEN IN DENIAL ABOUT MY OWN MORTALITY. I'VE KNOWN FROM THE START THAT EITHER SOMETHING LIKE THIS WOULD HAPPEN, OR I WOULD LIVE LONG ENOUGH TO SEE THE END OF THE WAR AND BE DISCHARGED. FREE TO GO TO WHICHEVER UNIVERSITY WOULD HAVE ME."
"Being a soldier wasn't your first choice?"
"NOPE. IT WAS, HOWEVER, APPARENTLY MY SECOND. IT'S SORT OF MY FAULT. I BOMBED THE TEST (WHICH I LATER LEARNED WAS RIGGED BY NORTHSTAR). MY DEBTS FOR MY EDUCATION WERE A LITTLE NORTH OF 60,000 CREDITS. MY BEST FRIEND SUGGESTED I ENLIST IN ARCHANGEL'S NAVY TO MAKE BACK WHAT I OWED ALL WHILE EARNING THE EXPERIENCE THAT COMES WITH A TOUR IN THE MILITARY. SO I DID."
"What did you want to be?"
"A COLONIAL SURVEYOR. I WANTED TO GO TO NEW AND UNINHABITED PLANETS AND STUDY THEM. COME UP WITH WAYS THAT PEOPLE COULD LIVE ON THEM. LEARN ABOUT HOW LIFE DEVELOPS ON DIFFERENT WORLDS. ALL THAT KIND OF STUFF. IT WAS MY DREAM."
"That sounds nice."
"I THINK SO TOO."
"WHAT ABOUT YOU?"
"What about me?"
"WAS THERE SOMETHING YOU WANTED TO BE OTHER THAN YOUR SHIP'S YEOMAN (AND WHAT I CAN ONLY ASSUME IS PSYCHOLOGIST/COUNSELOR KIND OF THING)?"
"Nope, not really. I wanted to meet other forms of life and converse with them. Understand them the way I understand human beings. Ever since I've been a part of this mission, I've had ample opportunity to get started on the foundations of those new understandings."
"WHAT'S THE MISSION?"
"You're probably not going to believe me when I say this… Pretty much no one believes the Commander and he's actually faced the enemy."
"COME ON, GIVE ME SOME CREDIT. I'M NOT SOME IGNORANT ASSHOLE. IF YOU TELL ME SOMETHING AND YOU REALLY BELIEVE IT'S TRUE, THEN I'LL BELIEVE YOU. THAT'S HOW TRUST WORKS, ISN'T IT?"
"Fine." She relented. "The mission is to stop a sentient race of macro-synthetics called the Reapers from wiping out all intelligent life in the galaxy. Our current objective, however, is to find a way to stop the mass-abductions of human colonists in this area of space."
"YOU'RE RIGHT, THAT DOES SOUND PRETTY FUCKING RIDICULOUS. BUT I BELIEVE YOU, AND IF I'M NOT BEING A TOTAL MORON FOR DOING THAT, THEN THESE BASTARDS NEED TO BE STOPPED."
"I can think of a small ship heading your direction filled with people who are inclined to agree with you."
"IS THAT SOOPOK.'L;"
"Tanner?" Kelly frantically checked time estimates and saw that his air had been projected to give out about half a minute ago. The Normandy was still four minutes out.
Four minutes. Long enough for permanent brain damage to occur.
"Tanner?" she tried again.
The interval between each of the following responses grew longer the more time passed.
"AIR"
"OUT"
"LUNGS"
"OW"
There was no denying what was happening. Tanner was dying. The question now was whether or not Dr. Chakwas would be able to revive him.
"Tanner," she sobbed, an unbidden tear flowing down her cheek. "If you can hear me, you need to open a larger hole in your suit. Enough so that it doesn't insulate you as much anymore. Try to maintain the helmet seal as best you can. I don't know much of the science behind this, but your blood will boil if they're exposed to a vacuum at those temperatures. You need to cool your head to prevent brain damage. But not too fast. Open too large a hole and it might not matter if you keep your helmet on or not. You're only going to be dead for about three minutes. You might find this hard to believe, but the Commander was dead for the better part of two years. So, you're going to be fine, okay?
"Tanner?"
"Tanner?!"
There was no response. No transmission whatsoever. He was gone.
Kelly severed the transmission.
"Where did that bright idea come from?" Miranda asked.
There was a short moment where Kelly thought she might have been able to laugh, but found that she couldn't. Nor could she find it in herself to smile. "A movie," she finally replied dully. "A stupid re-imagining of the Titanic in space."
"Did the guy survive at the end?"
"What do you think!?" Kelly snapped.
No, Miranda imagined. Probably not.
A/N: I am still hard at work on The Martian and Mass Effect: The Other. Now that this school semester has come to a close, expect updates of both stories very soon. I plan on continuing this one on the side as well. Hope you all liked this first chapter.
[[Promise to go back and edit for mechanics soon as I get a chance, I know there are probably some problem patches in this one.]]