Massive Bluff, a Stargate: Atlantis + Mass Effect Crossover fanfic

Massive Bluff

"Run, John, run!" Dr. Weir's orders were barely audible over the roar of gunfire and the zats of Wraith weaponry. "Get to Earth! Tell them! Tell them the Wraith are coming!"

It hurt, more horribly than anything he'd ever done, but John tore himself away, running for the door. He leapt over Dr. McKay's body, the technician's lifeless eyes staring up at the ceiling. He passed Lt. Ford, firing grimly away with both of legs smashed, Teyla's corpse slumped on top of him. A wraith leapt in his way but he filled its face with bullets and kept running.

He couldn't help it. At the door he paused one last time and looked back at the control room. Dr. Elizabeth Weir, a civilian to her core, had a pistol in hand and was grimly popping off shots at the Wraith pouring in the door.

She noticed him staring. "Run, John!" She yelled again. "Tell Colonel O'Neill..."

Wraith shots tore her apart before his very eyes. Ducking through the door, Shepard palmed the lock and ran for the ship hanger. It was the work of a few moments to get the Puddlejumper up and running. He punched in a gate combination—any one, it didn't matter—and shot back through the main room toward the stargate. He felt a few shots glance off the top of the ship, but it continued on strong.

And then he was through the stargate and out the other side. He didn't look back. He gunned the engine to its limit, and didn't even stop to think until the planet was a diminishing glow of light against the black of space.

Then he cried.

Shepard had come out at M-2344 (He hadn't been around when they named that one) which was as close to Earth as the Atlantis stargate could get by itself. He knew, more or less, the heading he had to have... not straight to Earth, but to the nearest known Stargate, which could conceivably take him to Earth. He also knew that the plan had called for the Atlantis team to detonate the Stargate after he left, but he had no way of knowing if that had succeeded.

In fact, he didn't know a lot. He didn't know how fast the Puddlejumper was going. Conceivably, a civilization with access to galaxy-spanning gateways wouldn't bother to make ships—or at least shuttles—capable of faster-than-light speed. He couldn't say, either, how the air in the ship was replenished, or how much time had gone by already, or, really, how long it would take him to reach the nearest Stargate, or if he'd even be alive by then—the ship had supplies, but they could only last so long.

What he really didn't know, though, was what that big blue space station he was floating towards was supposed to be. Sure, it was huge, and glowing, and had two long pointy things that seemed to stretch out in a definite direction, but it wasn't moving, or doing anything, apart from the revolving gyroscopic things in its center.

John Shepard knew he shouldn't investigate and that the fate of the world was resting on his shoulders and that this was a really bad time to be an explorer, but heck, if the thing was barely moving how dangerous could it bewhoahaaAHAHHAHAHHHHH!

John wondered how he'd stayed alive so long. Heck, he wondered how long he'd been alive. Twenty years? Fifty? A hundred? That extremely trippy slingshot across the galaxy had completely screwed up all his calculations, and he had no idea where he even was in relation to Earth, or if he was going in the right direction. He ate when he was hungry, he slept when he was tired, and he flew the puddlejumper in and out of solar systems.

Every time he came to a planet, he flew down and scanned it for signs of a stargate. If none was found (as had so far been the case) and the planet was suitable, he tried to find something to replenish his food stores with and continued on. He assumed the ship replenished its oxygen and fuel, but he still had no idea how that worked.

He knew he'd been alive a lot longer than he should have been, however. At least, a lot longer than made any sense, given his perpetually youthful appearance. Maybe it had something to do with all that Ancient technology they were tinkering with... that one doohickey McKay had told him not to touch, before he picked it up and started playing keep-away.

McKay. He started crying again.

It was a desert planet. A desert planet without much sign of development, and Shepard was just scanning it out of boredom when he found—not Stargates, but something just as good.

"You're human!" John dashed out of the Puddlejumper toward the small troop of men cowering on the rock. "Oh, thank god, thank god. You have no idea..."

The commander grabbed him by the shoulders. "Your ship! Can it get us out of here?"

Shepard blinked. "Uh, yeah? I mean it got me here, so..."

"Toombs, Curatola, wait!" The commander shouted to two soldiers running past. "Not on the sand! You'll..."

An enormous rumble knocked everyone over, and sand erupted in a giant cloud. Through the haze, Shepard just glimpsed the vague form of something huge, looming above them all.

"Thresher Maw!" shouted the commander, pushing Shepard out of the way. He had just time to absorb the strange name before a great blob of acid came flying out of the sand cloud and splashed into the commander, dissolving him almost before his eyes.

"Sir!" One of the men was beside him, "Sir, it's back! What do we do, sir?"

John Shepard swallowed thickly. Not in Kansas anymore...

"Name."

"John Shepard." The man on the stretcher was dirty, bloody, dissheveled, and had a glaze to his eyes that would disturb any psychiatric counselor. He barely even seemed to be looking at the paper in his hands. But he was alive, and that was more than could be said of most of his unit.

"Shepard." The man sitting at his bedside consulted the glowing screen. "Lt. Colonel, right? In charge of the unit?"

"Sure."

"You're lucky to be alive, Lt." The man smiled. "When we got the distress message from Akuze... well, we didn't think you'd be able to stay alive this long."

"Yeah," said John Shepard, glancing at the date at the top of the paper. "Me neither."

"Brigadier General O'Neill died during the Icarus Conflict, along with most personnel-and equipment-associated with the Stargate program." The room was dark, but the light glinted off a mass of medals and just outlined the uniform of the man sitting on the other side of the table. "Congressional pressure forced what was left of it to fold after the Prothean relics and the Mass Relays were found..." The medals shrugged. "No one wanted another Icarus Conflict, and without any further evidence of the Gou'auld or Asgard, it was less strategically important. Congress decided a more public exploration program would be easier to control."

John Shepard, sporting a new beard, sighed heavily and slumped over the table.

"What's more interesting is how you knew of the project in the first place. Most records associated with the project have been destroyed. We did manage to find a record of the scientific expedition to Pegasus, but the entire team was presumed dead after their gate went off the network. All records were sealed."

The uniform shifted uneasily. "You're, ah, sure you can't remember where you heard about the project?"

Shepard, head buried in his arms on the desk, gave a noncommittal shrug. "I don't know. Around." He looked up at what he could see of the officer. "Didn't you talk to Dr. Whatisface? It's been buried in my subconscious until forced out by trauma. I might not even have realized I heard about this other John Shepard."

"Well..." The other answered doubtfully. "While it is good to hear you have dropped your... delusions, at the same time, it would be most useful to Earth Intelligence if you could remember where you got them from in the first place."

"Sorry." Shepard shook his head. "Drawing a complete blank."

"Hm. And these... Wraith?"

Shepard rolled his eyes. "Childhood story, duh. My mom told me about them all the time."

A silence.

"Commander Shepard, you are an orphan."

"Right, well, I meant the lady who gave us food. We all called her Mom." Shepard amended.

"I see." There was the sound of a folder closing and the uniform stood up. "Well, between your doctor and I, we've agreed that you're fit to return to active service, provided you are closely monitored. and receive yearly psyche evals. If these delusions of harvester alien vampires return... well, we'll just help you quiet them again." The uniform chuckled. It turned toward the exit. "Good day, Commander Shepard."

John Shepard hid his face in his hands.

"So that's the beacon, huh?" Shepard regarded the object they'd fought through all the Geth to reach. "Doesn't look too impressive, got to say."

"Whole civilizations have based on the information found in these." Kaiden Alenko regarded the tall pillar with something like awe. "It's a miracle it's not destroyed."

"That thing's the reason my entire unit is dead." Williams hissed, taking an involuntary step forward.

"Easy." Shepard told her. "Hey, easy." She kept stepping forward. "Woah, girl, easy!"

She kept walking, as if in a trance, toward the glowing pillar. Shepard'd seen enough ancient artifacts in his day to know how this would end. He caught her in a flying tackle and threw her clear.

Then the beacon had him, and if lifted him into the air, prying into his mind...

...enlargement by over 300% 9 out of 10 separations occur between life-mates who are unsatisfied with their partner's performance with Zyphertol never fail to rise to the occasion again and blow your life-mate away...

"That beacon, Shepard... what did you see?"

Shepard almost laughed as he sat up. All that fuss over an old piece of ancient technology, so many people who died, and all it had was a recording of what he assumed was a Prothean manhood enlargement ad. Probably for the best it had been destroyed, he hated to think how the scientific community would have responded.

"Shepard?"

John Shepard opened his mouth... and closed it. He remained silent for a moment, and then said, in a distant voice. "Some kind of message... a warning."

"Reapers." Ambassador Udina repeated.

"Oh yeah." Shepard nodded. "They're these immortal alien things that feed on civilizations, they come by every..." He shrugged. "I don't know. Billion years or so? They're basically like space vampires." He pretended to think. "The beacon said they were coming from someplace far-off... like another galaxy or something? I got this momentary image of a winged horse."

Udina eyed him skeptically. "And why would a Prothean beacon have an image of a pegasus, commander?"

"Hey, I'm not the egghead on these things." Shepard shrugged. "Maybe it was just the closest equivalent in my head?"

Sighing, Udina rose from his desk and turned to the window. "Shepard, I'll be frank." He answered. "I've seen your psyche eval, and in all likelihood the Council has seen it too. This isn't the first time you've come with doomsday warnings in the wake of... understandably traumatic event."

"Yeah, but this time they came from a PROTHEAN traumatic event." Shepard raised a finger. "Totally more reliable."

Udina sighed again. "Oh, the council is going to LOVE this." He grumbled.

"You could easily have died or gone insane from that sort of experience, Commander." The Normandy's newest crew member, an asari archaeologist, stared at him in shock. "You must have a truly unusual mind."

"That's the first time I've heard that said as a compliment." Shepard reflected. "But you could say I have a bit more... experience than most with ancient artifacts."

"Really? How very interesting. What sort of artifacts? Wait." Liara stopped before Shepard could think of an answer. "I'm sorry. My scientific curiosity is getting the better of me. We should stay on task."

"Right." Shepard felt his mouth quirk in a smile. This asari reminded him so much of another scientist he'd known...

"You say you also received a Prothean cipher from an organism known as a Thorian?"

"Yup. A really big weed."

"Fascinating. It should have helped you to make better sense of the vision you received from the Prothean beacon. Can you say you received any new insights on the Reaper threat?"

"Er..." Shepard thought quickly. "Oh, it's a little more clear, but it's all... too... jumbled. Strange." He added. "Too strange. I don't know how to make sense of what I'm seeing."

"Perhaps I could help with that!" said Liara, rising quickly. "If I see your visions, my knowledge of the Protheans could help to make sense of the things that you find so alien."

"What? No! Er... That's a..." But before Shepard could articulate a proper refusal, the asari was pressed up against him and his mind was no longer thinking straight.

"Relax, Commander." Liara smiled. "Embrace eternity!"

And suddenly they were back, with another rushing sensation, and Shepard was staring at a very blue-faced Asari.

"Well?" asked Ashley impatiently. "Did it work?"

"I... oh my." Liara stuttered.

"No, I understand your motives, Shepard." Liara, now in his private cabin, answered. "I didn't just see the beacon, I saw your whole life history." She paused significantly. "I saw Atlantis."

Shepard closed his eyes. "So you see why I have to keep this up."

"But you can't, Shepard." Liara reminded him. "These 'Wraith' might not even be coming, and if they are, they might not arrive for many years yet. The Council will not be able to maintain a sustained alert."

"Eh, we'll figure that out when it becomes a problem." Shepard shrugged. Then he glanced at Liara. "But why are you keeping this a secret?"

"Well..." Liara looked away. "Although I do feel... revolted at your misuse of Prothean historical data, at the same time I cannot argue with the need for defense against these... 'Wraith.' And..." A peculiar look crossed her face. "I told you about my theory of cyclic development and destruction, correct?"

"Yeah... Galactic societies rise and then suddenly collapse, with all records almost systematically removed." Shepard nodded.

"Since coming up with my oft-mocked theory, I have frequently wondered about when our own galactic civilization is doomed to fall." Liara explained. "Your... Reaper story meshed perfectly with my theory, but now that it is... well." She blushed again. "In any case, now that I know of these 'Wraith,' I find it equally probable that they are the force responsible for the destruction of past civilizations."

"Hmm." Shepard decided not to mention that the Wraith generally left races intact enough to ensure a harvest on their next return.

"There are... complications still." Liara confessed. "But nonetheless, if my theory is correct and your fears are well-founded..." She looked at him, "...then your 'Reapers' will be coming all too soon."

Shepard stared in honest surprise at the glowing red hologram. "Saren's Cruiser isn't a Reaper ship." He breathed. "It IS a Reaper."

Inside, he thought: Holy Shit. Another?

"We put you back together, Shepard, only..." Miranda's face had an odd look to it.

"Only what?" Shepard arched an eyebrow at her.

"Well..." She was clearly perplexed, which was just as clearly new to her. "You weren't really dead. I mean, by all standards, you should have been, you were exposed in space for far too long, your tissue was irreparably damaged, you were frozen and suffocated."

"Yesssss... aaaand?"

"And... you weren't dead!" Miranda sputtered. "Your brain waves were fluctuating, your heart was pumping out blood into space, your tissue was practically rebuilding itself already! All we did was sterilize it and give it a place to grow. I've never seen anything like it!" She shook her head in disbelief. "The Illusive Man gives us a quarter trillion dollars to bring you back to life, and the only thing we have to spend it on is a clean room."

"What... what is that?" Jacob squinted at Veetor's fuzzy feeds. "Is that a Collector?"

"Impossible." Miranda snorted, studying the same figure. "Collectors have wings and four pupilless eyes. This one looks strangely human, apart from those fangs. What do you make of it, Shepard... Shepard?" She started back.

John Shepard was staring at the screen, staring at a pale face that he thought he'd never see again, staring at the image of an old enemy that he'd finally begun to think humanity safe from.

"I know what it is." He answered. "It's a Wraith."

A/N: Another crossover-fic-I'm-really-not-qualified-to-write. I can't wait until all the Stargate fans show up to tell me all the different continuity errors involved here. Probably the Mass Effect fans too.

EDIT: On that note, if you've read through this and you're one of those persons who's burning anxiously to point out that Stargate tech is more advanced/deadly/fast than ME tech and so why would Earth just abandon it... yes, I get it. Thank you. You're actually not the first to point it out. We're all impressed by your encyclopedic knowledge.

But I posted this idea on several forums years ago, and no one's stepped up, and this crossover is just incredibly obvious. I mean, you have ageless parasitic aliens who remain slumbering until their host civilizations reach a certain point of development and then 'harvest' them. In cycles. The only way these aliens can be stopped is by a plucky protaganist with a strange affinity for the technology of these alien's greatest enemies. And he's named JOHN SHEPARD. I mean, c'mon, people. How has this not been done already?

FURTHER EDIT: In fact, hypothetical Stargate fan who is being tormented by the differing power levels, why don't you write it yourself? Then this awesomely obvious crossover can have something more legitimate, people can read that and not be bothered by the tech problems, and I can stop receiving your complaints. Everyone's happy!

Anyway. Full-game rewrites are fun to speculate about, but they're for people with time on their hands, which is to say, not me. I'm already submitting way too many unrelated crossover one-shots... it's been a crazy weekend. If someone wants to do a rewrite, go ahead, but given that Shepard's personality is pretty much a blank, I don't think this really affects the game's plot all that much. I could, perhaps, have gone into the events of ME2 and how it was different fighting the Wraith instead of the Collectors, but that would require more knowledge of the Wraith than I have. This gets the idea across well enough.

Pretty happy with the cover image... probably the best one I've done yet. I can't claim credit for the base image photomanip, that was by Bebbe88 of Deviantart. The text, though, is my own, and it looks more professional than any other version I've done.