A/N: So this chapter is a bit of a place holder. I just wanted to get this idea out there, and of course "reconnect" with the readers a bit (damn, that sounded cheesy). I would like a bit more input from you guys, just what your opinions are and where you would like to see this story go.
This time, I'm using BroShep instead of FemShep. Though I many write a version of this story with FemShep sometime in the future.
Obviously, this is going to be a bit shorter than what I usually do.
XXxxXX
Audio Message
0020hrs – November 5th, 2186 (Standard Alliance Military Calendar)
From: Commander Adam Winston Shepard
To: Rear Admiral Hannah Eve Shepard
Hey mom… just calling in, and – uh- I guess you're busy. I'm recording this message for you in case anything goes wrong. I know you say that I sugar coat everything, but to be honest, I think that all depends on your point of view.
[Clears throat]
I've never been that much of a… well; I try to look at things… optimistically.
[Laughs dryly]
But – heh – I guess the messages I've sent you over the years say otherwise. I try to see the best of what my situation is… and I guess they've all been the ones that always clog the fan. Especially on November fifth… damn…
[Breathes deeply]
In a few hours, the fate of the galaxy will be decided. Everyone here is ready to give it all they got… but we already know the stakes. We know who we've lost.
Despite how optimistic everyone is… I can't help but feel this is the end… for me. It's been… it's been a hell of a ride… and – uh – it has to end soon.
Sometimes I wonder what dad would say if he was still here - seeing us fighting the Reapers. Or how different my story would've been hadn't I lost my first command as an N5… and if Maria was here. Maybe Sarah would be the hero of the galaxy and the first human Spectre instead, and would it be me or Kaidan who'd become the second or third human Spectre. Or what if I had taken a planet-side post and settled down with Sarah, maybe Kaidan would've been the first human Spectre.
All speculation, I know. And realistically, I know that with what Kaidan and I had been born with and how we had been raised, we still would've played a huge role in all of this. Maybe not as spectacular as destroying the Collector home world, or being rebuilt from "nothing but meat and tubes," or meeting the Reapers' creators – but it definitely would be up there… somewhere.
Somehow, I know that the final push, the final catalyst, the final decision, lies with me and the Catalyst and the Crucible. I'm honoured I guess [scoffs]. Whatever I have to do, to end all of this, I wonder what it would cost me, or how it would all end. How the story of my life would end.
I think about how I was… I was only a kid when I first killed someone… only a kid when I lost my first Command… I was only nineteen then.
[Breathes deeply]
One hell of a journey…
Remember what Orson Welles said, mom. When you tell everyone about my story – tell them the story of a privileged kid, growing up at Royal and being raised into a soldier… not a weapon. Tell them, how that kid, met Maria, Sarah, Kaidan and the Normandy Crew, and then became Commander Shepard just in time to stop the Reapers, with brothers and sisters in arms at his side. Then, end it there.
[Clears throat]
That should keep everyone smiling. That should keep Melanie happy…
Take care, mom. I love you. If I don't see you before I see dad, I'll say hi and tell him you love him.
Bye mom, all the best.
XXxxXX
1800hrs – November 5th, 2186 (Standard Alliance Military Calendar)
Westminster, London
Earth
There were three options, all laid out before him. Destruction of synthetics would offer the galaxy a second chance for making things right, but he would destroy the geth and EDI. Adam couldn't bring himself to do that. He was Commander Shepard; he had brokered a peace between the quarian and the geth. Alive or not by conventional means, they are sentient. To wipe them out would be wrong.
His eyes gazed towards the blue pylon. Control, he could control the Reapers; guide them so that they could shape a better future for the galaxy. He could become the next Catalyst, the next master of the Reapers and protect all life. He could preserve everyone. But what happens if he became just like the previous Catalyst? What if he started another harvesting cycle?
To destroy would let the galaxy have another chance of building synthetic life once more. And in the panic, war would erupt. No, the geth were the key to a new future, they had already proven themselves with the quarians. Controlling the Reapers meant Shepard would have absolute power, but absolute power corrupts all. He would be unstoppable, everything he and those beside him fought so hard for, would be rendered moot.
But there was a third option. Synthesis, he could combine both synthetic and organic life into a new hybrid race. Immortality would be achieved, a new future of promise and providence would be for everyone.
Yes, that was the path he would give the galaxy. He would gladly do it, to end the fighting, to see Sarah again.
But there will always be fighting, he reasoned.
Slowly, he made his way to the chasm, his muscles screaming in defiance. His eyes burning as the light poured mercilessly through his pupils. Just a bit further and it would be over.
His stepped echoed through the vast chamber, joining its voice against the ominous hum. He could see the devastation outside the massive windows. Squadrons of fighters engaged each other in a viscous battle.
The edge drew closer, the emerald column glowing before him. Adam dragged in a deep breath and pulled himself to his full height. Summoning whatever ounce of strength was left, he pushed off with his strong leg. Speeding down the rest of the length, he leapt into the air… and closed his eyes.
XXxxXX
He could feel the sun, here the rustle of the winds and feel the sand beneath him. But something was wrong, it didn't feel right. He was supposed to be dead, or within some kind of cloud data. But this wasn't right. He could smell the burning foulness of rotting flesh and ozone.
Rolling onto his back, his sight was cast across a great canyon. There were longs metal arms on a circular disk, extending into the sky, reaching into a maelstrom of clouds.
It looked like he was in Africa – if the distant mountains and the trees were anything to go by. But he could be wrong. Turning away from the edge, he panned his eyes across the landscape behind him. A long line of metal bones were stretched out across the sands, like the remains of a snake. Pulling in a deep breath, he winced as his sides ached and screamed.
"C'mon, c'mon," Adam muttered to himself.
Slowly, he planted his legs into the ground, and with a bit of extra help, a fine violet mist helped him stand. He looked up at the sun, slowly stretching his jaws. He could feel the dried blood crack and flake as he skin pulled taught.
He needed to move, needed to push on. But a small part of him didn't want to. He had done enough.
Adam made his way to the fallen superstructure, noting the splayed wires and shattered glass. He followed the path, avoiding the flames that licked hungrily at the trees.
Water.
He needed water. The thought hadn't entered his mind until he reached for his bottle.
"Shit," he murmured, running his fingers across the melted plastic.
"RAAARG!"
"What the fuck!?" Shepard jolted.
He spun to, pistol at the ready. Spikes hissed and clattered, ricocheting off the metal or digging into the rocks. Adam threw himself behind cover, a guttural hiss leaving his lips as pain rocketed through his body.
"God fucking dammit," he growled, clutching the stake in his stomach.
He hadn't even notice his kinetic barriers disappear… or maybe the kinetic force was that powerful.
Looking at the spikes, he gaged the direction of the shooter. He leaned out of cover, eying massive alien advancing on him. It was like a huge ape, domineering, and primeval. Its armour looked like something that would harken back to the days of the Vikings and medieval knights – something out of a fantasy story.
Three shots echoed from Adam's Carnifex, the recoil kicking in his tired hands. But the alien didn't duck. It charged.
"Ah shit."
Shepard fired again, pulling the trigger until the thermal clip became too hot. But despite the wounds, the alien wasn't fazed.
Just like a krogan.
Drawing back his left fist, eldritch wrapped around his hand. He hurled a sapphire biotic missile at the beast. The ball of savage energy darted across the ruins and struck centre mass. Roaring in pain and arms flailing, the ape-like creature dropped its weapon. It spun aimlessly, slamming against the metal as its flesh was burned.
Another bolt sailed from Shepard's hand, striking centre mass. A fiery blue sphere roared across the beast's chest. The thunderous boom ever so satisfying as the alien was tossed like a ragdoll. A sickening crunch echoed across the ravine, followed by a wet thud.
Adam slowly advanced on the creature, keeping his weapon trained on the mangled corpse. A dark mahogany liquid slowly pooled into the crevice beneath the thing, its head bent back awkwardly.
What is it? He wondered. Shepard didn't know what specie it was.
It looked ape-like. Maybe he was in some twisted fantasy, a Planet of the Apes world. But rationality shoved the ridiculous thoughts to the deepest recesses of his mind.
Gently dropping to one knee, Adam looked at the weapon the beast had. It looked crude and barbaric with two savage blades at the end of the barrel.
Drawing in a ragged breath between his teeth, he hissed as pain rippled from his stomach. The bloody bastard clipped him with an accurate shot.
"Eyupa!"
Pitched squeals echoed through the wreckages. Dozens of diminutive creatures with triangular backpacks scrambled over the debris. They danced back and forth, bounding on one leg to the other.
Instinctively, Shepard activated his Omni-shield. An orange barrier morphed into existence on warped gauntlet, bracing against the inevitable onslaught. Ghostly green bolts crackled and hissed through the air, splashing harmlessly against the hexagonal amber surface.
Slapping in his last thermal clip, he aimed for the closet alien and fired. The small creature buckled and clawed at its masks, dying of asphyxiation.
He turned to the next one in line and fired. The mass effect accelerated bullet tore through a yellow, lightly armoured chest and pulverised the flesh beneath. Luminous blue blood spilt onto the metal and rocks as the body rolled lifelessly onto the dirt.
"Yayfa!" they screamed.
Crystalline shards of violet and purple streaked through the air, arcing as if they were guided by some unseen force. One projectile arched around his shield, digging into his side.
"Shieearhg, fuck!" Adam hissed.
Backing into a wall, the shard fractured. The tiny splinters ripped into him, sending a fiery hand through his gut. He could feel his strength ebbing away like sand in the wind. He sought support from the rocks, letting the sun beat down on him. Darkness encroached his vision; he was too tired to fight it.
"Come one, come on, come on, focus… focus, come on," he breathed.
Aiming around cover, he pulled the trigger and was rewarded with a series of blood curling cries.
Generating another biotic field, he leaned around the corner and aimed it at a small cluster. A satisfying thump and sickening crunches confirmed multiple kills.
The creatures screamed in fear, turning around to run away. But a guttural bark rallied them.
"Aw c'mon," Shepard groaned.
He caught site of the hulking alien, this one wearing ornate armour and wielding a menacing hammer. Firing the Carnifex, the hypervelocity rounds bounced harmlessly off the thick armour.
The small aliens returned fire, forcing Shepard to double back. He retreated through a crevice, grunting in pain as the spike scratched the rock side.
Adam ran his hand over what was left of his support webbing, rummaging his hands through the medical pouches.
"Goddammit," he murmured, coming up empty.
The drone and hum of an engine drowned out the alien chatter, specks of sand flicking his bloodied and bruised face. Adam turned his gaze skyward, his breathing becoming laboured. It was a shuttle of some kind, one with wings, actual aerodynamic wings. He hadn't seen those models since he was a child at a museum.
The chin mounted turret and side guns spooled to life, smoke pouring out of the barrel as a thunderous roar ripped through the air.
Shepard watched the rear hatch open and ropes descend. A split second later, men rappelled down the line and touched the ground. They fanned out in a perfect formation. Their armour, something he hadn't recognised before.
Maybe they were a PMC defending Earth.
A man came running up to him. On his shoulder was the patch of a medical cross adorned with outstretched eagle wings. Maybe they were medevac. Adam hadn't seen them since his first mission as an N7. Maybe they changed their armour.
"Hold on boet, you're safe," he said with a South African accent, placing a firm grip on Adam's shoulder.
"Area secured," another man said. "Confirmed, Kongs are down."
Shepard began to careen, his eyes becoming too heavy.
"Just hold on."
His eyes lids were too heavy to open this time. He could hear the sound of a canister being popped, followed by the sound of expanding foam. A sensation of burning ants crawled through him, but eventually numbed.
"Garret, get the stretcher. Shit, this boykie is glowing green."
Everything seemed to sound muffled and hollow. Adam's eyes remained as he exhaled, slumping against the rocks.
…
It was a dream. He knew it was a dream. She hadn't seen her face for a long time. And there she was, standing in front of him with a soft sweet smile.
"Adam," she beamed. "You're okay, you're safe now."
He looked around the luscious English meadows, the sea of grass rippling as the breezed rolled through the hills. The sun was high in the sky, warm and comforting
He knew this dream. He remembered cradling a velvet onyx blue box in his hand. He remembered asking her the question, the joy on her face and the tears streaming down her eyes. But he didn't have the box this time. He wasn't wearing his baby blue shirt and beige pants like he remembered.
His form was battered and bloodied, covered in warped armour and a torn under suit. But she didn't seem to care. Her auburn hair flowed as the wind played with her locks like a child. Her warm blue eyes gazed into his lovingly.
She walked over to him, kneeling beside him and cupped his cheek. Her thumb ran along the cheekbone as she smiled. Adam leaned into her touch, breathing in her soft lavender scent.
"Sarah," he whispered.
"Shhh," she hushed. "Just rest… you're safe now."
Her white toga flowed around her, accentuating her athletic figure. She was a truly beautiful sight to behold. Gently, she eased herself onto the grass, her dress parting just enough for him to see the creamy skin of her thighs, and her pedicured bare feet.
With infinite grace, she leaned in, hovering her lips above his for a brief moment.
"You're safe, now," she whispered.
He felt her soft sweet lips press along his, and cupped his upper lip gently. Her hand glided along the nape of his neck before she wrapped her arm around him. With her other hand, she cupped his jaw, and slowly trailed along his mandible.
It was real. He knew it wasn't real. As beautiful as it was… it wasn't real. Sarah had died a long time ago. He remembered holding her as she said her goodbyes, he remembered watching her slip away in his grasp.
The dream faded back to darkness once more.
He could hear a dull hum ad the sound of muffled voices. Adam opened his eyes, he tried to move, but found his arms and legs restrained. Despite the large blanket covering him, he felt naked without his fatigues. He was in a hospital gown, with drip in his veins.
Men in sapphire black, service uniforms stood in front of him, watching him with intense scrutiny. They had armoured vests and pauldrons which matched their uniforms. Eyes following their arms, Shepard guessed that they had thin elbow plates, and thus he assumed they had knee pads as well. It was a unique combination, one that spoke of authority and power, while at the same time emphasizing utilitarian aspects.
If the gold trimmings on their clothes were anything to go by, Shepard guessed that they were senior officers. The man of Anglo-Saxon descent in the centre was a General, judging by the four stars perched on his collar and shoulder boards. The other three had silver oak leafs. One of whom had the same symbol of the medevac soldiers, on his pauldrons.
Shepard remembered those insignias from the poster he had on his desk back at home. The rank no longer existed in the Alliance due to simplified rankings for easier management.
These men seemed a bit young to be holding senior positions. But then again, the war against the Reapers had killed countless Alliance Officers.
Though… were they Alliance? Nothing he'd seen so far suggested that they were.
He knew that this was Earth, or at least he hoped so.
"Good to see you awake, Commander Shepard," the General greeted.
Surrounding Adam's bed, were an array of monitors and consoles. Further on were wall mounted holoprojectors with readouts of his vital signs and brain activity. Furrowing his brows, Shepard could feel something perched on his right temple.
"Take a deep breath, Commander," the Lieutenant Colonel said – the one with the medical patch.
"Where am I?" Adam asked. "Did we win?"
"You're in a hospital," the Medical Officer answered. "Just let me raise your bed first, okay?"
Shepard nodded. "Why am I restrained?"
"For our safety…"
"I don't… I don't understand, sir."
The General walked up to Shepard's bedside and gave the Medical Officer a soft nod. His hands hovered over one of the locks and entered in a code. A soft click registered in Shepard's ears, his arms and legs were free. The bed gently pushed the Spectre into a seated position, allowing him a commanding view of his surroundings.
"Sir, what's going on?" Adam asked.
"We've got our questions too, Commander," the General said.
Shepard looked back and forth between the four uniformed men. Why wasn't the Medical Officer dressed in a white lab coat like the other doctors? Looking beyond the General, he saw a projector, displaying a photo of his deceased fiancée.
"Sir," Adam paused. "I don't follow. I… why do you have a photo of Sarah?"
"We've been monitoring your brain activities," he answered bluntly.
"Why?"
The General sent a look to one of the other officers, making a slight hand gesture. The Lieutenant Colonel nodded in compliance and began to usher the other doctors out of the room.
"Why are you green?"
"Sir… what are you talking about?" Shepard shook his head with a light shrug.
The Medical Officer rolled back the blanket, revealing Shepard's forearms. He could see a faint emerald glow through the bandages. He looked the patches of skin on his arms, his eyes following the strobing emerald veins which flowed across him like an algorithmic pattern.
"Maybe we should start from the top," the General suggested.
XXxxXX
"Nothing is more poisonous than the mindset of extremes and absolutes."
-GEN Essingdon D. Keyes (Head of Section III)
XXxxXX
Okay, so I wanted your opinion on this. And no doubt some of you would've (or will) see this on my other stories. How strong do you think the IVs are?
According to the lore, the Spartan-IV Program is a hybrid program of all the predecessors. It used adult volunteers and aimed at achieving the same results as the Spartan-IIs with the success rate and cost effectiveness of the IIIs.
So what does it mean as strong as the Spartan-IIs? Do they mean the Spartan-IIs right after augmentation? Or the Spartan-IIs who've had a few years to acclimatise?
One of the augmentation results for Spartan-IVs said that they would run about 40mph or 64km/h. While Kelly-086's top speed recorded was 38.5mph. (I can't tell if the author of Initiation wants to create something better than the IVs).
So how strong are the IVs in comparison to the IIs? Note that I am not talking about combat performance or experience or training. I'm wondering what would happen if the two generations were to compete in an athletics comp against one another. i.e. an arm wrestle and a sprint race.
Prototype IVs were intended to be as strong as IVs in armour, i.e. as strong as IIs in armour. But what armour were they referring to exactly? Each iteration of the MJOLNIR was significantly better than the last. GEN2 is lighter and we can assume it has about the same strength as an MkVI or at least close to.
Thus it can be assumed that the prototype IVs could outclass the IIs with relative ease.
I feel like the law of triangles is being violated here. Three options, powerful, cost and success. You can only choose two. S-IV Program took all three; maybe the writer didn't get the memo. But then again, one could argue that is it all due to improvements in technology.
I'd like your opinion on this, and please back it up with references to the source. Less keep as much stipulation out of this as possible.
…
Anyway, please leave a review and tell me what you think or if you have any questions.
Special thanks to Carleen and Yi-Chun for preliminary reading and beta work.