SECTION 8
PROLOGUE
PANAMA CANAL, SOUTH AMERICA
The French tried to build a canal here before the Americans. At the height of their effort 500 workers were dying every week from malaria and yellow fever. They couldn't come up with cemetery space fast enough. Not to mention the mortal problem all those crosses would have made.
So they bought shiploads of vinegar. In each barrel they put one body. And then they sold them as medical cadavers all over Europe. And for a while that was their greatest profit.
See this place always had a special way of dealing with both profit… and death.
CHAPTER ONE
PANAMA CANAL
N7 TRAINING ZONE BRAVO
NOVEMBER 1ST 2184
1300 HOURS
It was the height of hurricane season. Winds were gusting up to around a hundred miles an hour, the rain came in at you sideways, and no matter where you went; you could not escape the cold.
The sun had long set making the storm all that much more intolerable. It wasn't as if the sun made any difference behind the giant dark clouds of Hurricane Bush, but at least during the day you can see where you are going.
The night just made things worse. Now you would be wet and cold and have no idea what is five feet in front of you.
That was what the six N7 recruits felt in the open door Kodiak shuttle as it made its way through the brewing storm; cold, wet and exhausted.
For the past six months they have underwent the most rigorous training any Alliance military personnel could go through. Finally, this was to be their last test.
If they passed this, they could count themselves among the best operatives the Systems Alliance had to offer. They would be, N7s.
"As some of you may have heard, there is a hurricane forming tonight! Well N7s, don't pray on good weather. N7s do not wait for a bright, sun shiny day. Oh no. N7s are trained to operate in the worst possible conditions and take said conditions, and turn them against their enemy!"
Staff Sergeant David Anderson looked around at the six recruits before him.
Sitting to his immediate left was Corporal Jacqueline Doe, otherwise known as simply Jack, to her colleagues. Although quick to anger and slow to rational thought, Anderson knew that such an asset would smooth over well in the N7s. She wore her light armor with a boonie hat on her head, shielding her shaved haircut from the harsh conditions.
To his right was Specialist Uri Wrex, a behemoth of a man standing over six foot five inches. The native Russian was a silent warrior and wore a simple black do-rag and seemed overall unaffected by the downpour around him. He had three parallel scars that ran from the top of his forehead, down across the right side of his face, and ending in the middle of his neck. Anderson wasn't sure exactly how the Russian had received them but he knew it happened
Then there was Corporal Zaeed Massani, an experienced Australian marine who had nothing but good praises from his superiors. He too bore scars from combat except his combat was not on a battlefield per se and his thin black hair was covered by a red beret. He had ran with a gang back in his hometown of Sydney and received the scar by being shot by his best friend Vido Santiago. Zaeed had nearly died but for some reason managed to survive, pull himself out of his shallow grave, hunt down Vido, and kill him. When he was caught and brought before a judge, Zaeed was offered a deal: join the Alliance military or serve the rest of his life in jail. Zaeed had no love for the Alliance but the simple fact of there being no women in prison gave clues to his decision. After fighting in the Verge for nearly five years, his application for N7 training had gone through and thus, here he was.
Sergeant Jacob Taylor, who was as accurate with a shotgun as anyone else was with an assault rifle, was next. Jacob was the one man of the six recruits that Anderson felt could be a leader. He had all the inner workings of a take charge person and was extremely loyal to those around him. All throughout his carreer, Taylor had made an excellent NCO and was quickly picked up by ONI for his actions on Torfan.
The other two, in Anderson's eyes, were pukes who he would never let pass. To him, they didn't seem to have the right stuff.
The most notable were Privates Alenko and Krios. Alenko had barely survived through the conditions of Anderson's course and Krios was the son of some general high up in the Alliance.
Anderson wasn't exactly sure how Alenko got to be included in N7 training but according to his record he was a biotic. Healthy biotics were a rarity before the L3 implants came around and since his biggest drawback was a series of migraines, Alenko seemed like a perfect candidate. But to Anderson, he wasn't anything near perfect.
Sure Alenko was trying and doing his best but his best was simply not N7 material. Anderson knew that Alenko wasn't going to quit and to make sure he didn't fuck up and get him or someone else killed, Anderson made it his duty to whip the boy into proper N7 condition.
On the other hand, Corporal Krios was only here because his father had pulled some strings to get his allegedly gay son to become the man he wants. Anderson, while he respected General Krios as a man, had no time to play babysitter to the guy's kid. Anderson's standing orders with Krios was to make sure he became a soldier with getting him hurt. How Anderson was going to do that was unknown to him but so far the kid seemed somewhat capable if not entirely worthless.
Anderson nevertheless, continued his rant.
"You each have on rifle, one side arm, and one white phosphorous grenade. This is a live E and E, so please keep those weapons safetied so as to not shoot off your nonexistent dicks!"
The Kodiak shook in turbulence.
"The rally point is a bunker, two clicks away from the drop zone! You will split into teams of two. Each designated area has twenty reactive targets. First team to hit all twenty and reach the rally point, wins!
"If anything goes cache down there, you pop white and radio in. I will be at each area monitoring your progress! If I see anybody drag ass, I swear to god, you will swim the canal!"
The shuttle continued its way towards the drop zone, ready to deploy the six tired and cranky recruits who wanted nothing more to do than to grab a few hours of rack.
PANAMA CANAL
N7 TRAINING ZONE BRAVO
NOVEMBER 2ND 2184
0730 HOURS
SIX HOURS LATER…
Colonel Donald Udina's shuttle flew calmly over the Panamanian jungle keeping a path identical to the canal below.
Every now and then, he would grab his binoculars and gaze out into the storm.
With a sigh he set the binoculars down and turned to the pilot.
"Where's the original pick up point?"
The pilot turned away from the controls.
"About two clicks up the valley. So this was an N7 training team? When were they due?"
Udina sighed once more and tossed his spent cigarette out the open window
"They missed contact six hours ago," Udina replied, exhaling the slow deadly smoke as he kept an all watchful eye on the ground below."
"Well Colonel Udina, that doesn't really mean anything … in a storm like this… No, it wouldn't be any wonder if they were delayed."
The shuttle continued through the now full on hurricane. While hurricanes were normal in this part of the world, a hurricane lasting for three days was uncommon. Well, not exactly uncommon. In the more 'civilized' area of Earth, the weather had calmed down some from the destructive effects of the 21st century. Still, in places such as South America that boasted more third world countries, like Panama, people have not been able to properly upgrade their technology into modern day levels. As a result, most of these places were overpopulated, environmentally cursed, smug filled zones that had the highest rate of criminals anywhere else on the planet.
It just so happened that when the United States evolved into the North American Union with Canada, Mexico and most of the Caribbean countries, they had still owned the Panama Canal. When the Alliance had heard of this from the NAU, they immediately purchased up several hundred acres and set up Fort Mercy. However 99 percent of the land they purchased was covered in the trees of the South American rainforest. It was here that the Alliance had trained their N7s in Jungle Warfare. It was spilt into twelve zones ranging from Alpha to Lima.
Training Zone Bravo was one of these zones.
"I'm not seeing them. I'm coming back around."
The pilot turned the craft towards port but at the last second leveled out.
"Uh… wait a minute… I'm seeing something on the ground. I'm coming over towards your side."
Sure enough, Udina could make out a figure in the jungle below. The figure was running through an opening in the tree line and was barely visible from Udina's altitude. Still, Udina could tell that something wasn't right.
"I'm seeing one… No wait, two? I think he's carrying some one? Is he hurt?"
Sure enough, Udina could make out a form laying across the man's shoulders.
He wasted no time.
"Alright, let's get down there."
However he was interrupted by the sounds of gunfire.
"What is that?"
The man on the ground, fired from the hip, aiming at a currently unknown target.
"Is that live fire?"
Another man, wearing nothing on his torso except for a thermal clip bandolier and a do-rag, charged from the bush and fired back at the man carrying his wounded comrade.
The man carrying his friend returned fire, nailing the other in his shirtless body.
"Jesus Christ, their shooting at each other; get us down there!"
The surviving man turned and began running.
Through the trees and rain, Udina could make out the growing cloud of white phosphorus.
"There, there!" he reported to the pilot who made a direct route towards the smoke.
The shuttle made its decent into the green jungle with the hurricane still blowing overhead.
A/N:
What is good everyone!
Yeah so I'm taking a break from my other fic to bring you this one that I have based on a movie I saw over the weekend. If I'm lucky, I will post two chapters every other day so I can give you a chance to bask in the awesomeness that is me!
Anywho, if you have any questions, read the next chapter first before bugging me with retarded shit like:
"Why is Udina a colonel?"
"Where is Tali?"
"Where is Shepard?"
"What is all this white stuff over my keyboard?"
"Why is Wrex's first name Uri? And why is Thane trying to be an N7, etc…"
Shit like that pisses me off… and to answer question two, Tali WILL NOT be in this fic. As the summary stated before you got here this is a Shepard /Ashley story minus all the lovey dovey shit… ok maybe a little lovey dovey but common, I'm a Shepley kinda guy so can you blame me?
Any other questions will be answered in Chapter Two.
BTW I fucking hate Tali…
Now before you get all obsessive and litter my inbox with hate mail and death threats, here me out…
I fucking hate Tali… not the Quarians because I think Bioware did a bang up job making them up and Shala 'Ran and Kal 'Reeger were beyond awesome.
I just plain fucking hate Tali.
If you feel like trying to convert me into a Talimancer or if you wish to know my reasons behind such proclamations, I would be happy to debate with you on why I believe that she is a whiny, stubborn, teenager that only 13 year olds go for.
:) Epic Face…
So to end this author's note on a good swing, I am happy to announce that my Multi-Crossover fic is now in the woodworks and the trailer fic will be up soon.
Yes I made a trailer for a Fanfiction… don't hate on awesome.
So long brochachos and senoritas and I'll catch you on the flip side.