If hell was cold instead of hot, then this bloody planet had to be Dante's innermost circle of hell. Nine months out of thirteen this planet was a frozen ball of snow, ice, and misery, with temperatures dropping to subarctic levels at night. Even though Shepard wore full Arctic survival gear, she still was convinced she was getting frostbite. Her toes and fingers had gone numb from less than an hour of exposure. More than once she'd wished for the sleek sets of combat armor with built-in thermal coils that were simply too expensive to equip everyone with at this point.
Her only comfort was that the bloody turians weren't faring much better; the turians she'd killed all wore basic combat uniforms rather than armor as well. She guessed that at this point both militaries were more concerned about putting guns into soldiers' hands than worrying about their safety, which of course made the fact that the turians and Alliance were fighting over this ice cube ridiculous. The only thing that made this turian outpost even worth the effort was its proximity to Oya, a heavily colonized human planet close by. If the turians managed to secure this outpost, a lot of humans would die in the resulting orbital strikes. The Alliance held onto the outpost desperately just so the turians couldn't have it, hence the bloodshed over this glacial ball of frigid dirt.
She supposed the base would have been forgotten if it weren't for the batarian raiders. Their attacks made the Alliance take the base in the first place, for the safety of Oya, and this in turn had attracted turian attention back to the outpost. Without the fucking batarians, she would be stationed elsewhere, somewhere reasonably warm.
She tugged at her parka and approached the half-demolished base, trudging around it and searching for signs of a usable vehicle. The Alliance base, this one, was ruined, and the closest base with a working transmitter was too far to walk in this cold. The snow-worthy vehicle that the Alliance had given her small squad was fucked, and the rest of her squad was dead, killed when batarians hit them suddenly and hard. Sixty versus ten wasn't exactly fair, after all.
Blue splatters in the snow caught her attention and she clenched her pistol tighter as she spotted the dark shapes of bodies lying in the snow. The bodies were distinctly turian; the blue blood drenching the snow around them gave that away. But what caught her attention was the big white vehicle they'd apparently been guarding. It boasted heavy armor, fat tires with deep treads, and was totally alien. Still, she wasn't one to look a gift horse in the mouth. She hastily climbed inside and sent a silent thanks to whatever gods were listening. The ignition pass was still sitting on the driver's seat.
She inserted the key into the ignition and jacked up the heat before putting the vehicle in gear (the driver pulled back on the throttle to go faster? The hell was wrong with the turians' brains?) and speeding out of the wrecked base as fast as possible. She leaned back in the oddly-shaped seat, relishing in the hot air cranking out from the vehicle's AC unit. As she approached the bridge, however, a line of snow leapt up several meters from her position. She cursed and threw the vehicle into reverse, retreating out of gun range. Fuck! The batarians had gotten to the bridge first, and by the look of things, had set up machine gun nests to trap the weary soldier in and cut them to pieces.
She stared out furiously at the bridge. She had to get across, but she couldn't. The vehicle had no weapons, and the pistol she'd managed to keep hold of wouldn't do anything against those machine gun nests. She needed a long-range weapon, and cursed herself for not picking up one of the turian-made sniper rifles she'd found half-buried in the snow. If only she had…
A puff of red originated from the closest nest, followed by an echoing crack. She almost jumped as someone fell against the side of the vehicle with a thud. The door opened, and she threw a quick glance backward, determining that this stranger who had scrambled inside wasn't a batarian.
"Go! Go!" The stranger shouted at her. She slammed on the gas, opening the throttle as far as she dared. The vehicle's wheels squealed as they searched for purchase, and the truck shot forward. The stranger hung out the door, and several sharp gunshots echoed painfully loud in the space as the stranger shot at something. She glanced back at him again and felt a dull kind of ache. He was really the last survivor? The reinforcements hadn't been that heavy, but she'd kind of expected more than just him to survive. The vehicle's door clanged shut, cutting off the low whistle of the wind.
"Any news from Quintus?"
She whipped around as his dual-toned voice rippled through the stale air and was regurgitated by her translator. She caught a glimpse of his bold cobalt facepaint, a heads-up display over one eye, and impossibly blue irises as he looked up. His eyes widened in an expression that probably(she wasn't well-versed in turian expressions) meant oh fuck and probably would have matched her own had he been human.
She grabbed for the knife at her side, cursing herself for placing her pistol slightly out of reach. The turian's eyes narrowed and he lashed out at the same time, striking at her head. She lunged towards him, putting all her weight behind the handle of her knife. His fist glanced off her jaw, rattling her teeth.
The knife blade sunk home.
Her adversary jerked and instinctively threw himself away from her, his weight falling on the door, which swung open. He tumbled out of the vehicle, taking her knife with him. She returned her attention to the road and jerked the wheel as the side of the truck grazed a stunted conifer with a screech. She slightly regretted not being able to run the turian over, but she didn't have time for that now. She had to focus on getting to the LZ before the batarians…
Shit. What if the batarians were already there? What would she do if she encountered any more machine gun nests?
She slammed on the brakes and parked the vehicle in the middle of the road. Cursing the necessity of it, she snatched up her pistol and headed off through the snow, searching for the turian. She heard soft swearing and came upon him floundering in a snowbank, gripping her knife with one hand and holding his injured side with the other. He was covered in cobalt blood and muddy snow, probably from the wheels. He probably didn't have a pistol, or he would have pulled it on her. He tensed and bared his teeth as she approached, glaring up at her. Shit, if looks could kill…
"I've got a deal for you," she said tersely. He said nothing, so she continued. "I don't leave you to freeze to death, and you shoot the batarians and not me."
"Where are we going?" He asked stiffly.
She jerked her head, taking his use of we and not you in stride. "LZ two hours up the road."
The turian nodded tersely, tried to get up, snarled, and fell back into the snow, his breath hissing between his teeth. She knew that he needed help if he was going to be of any use to her, so she bent down reluctantly.
"Let me see that."
He growled a warning at her, but went still as Shepard peeled back his blood-soaked parka, baring his plated skin. He felt curiously warm under her fingers, his hide the texture of sandy leather rather than human skin. She'd half-expected him to be cold and hard, like armor. The knife had skidded off one of his plates and sunk in underneath another on his back, making a long, deep wound that bled freely. Probably hurt like a bitch too, but hopefully it would stop him from trying anything funny.
"Got a first aid kit?" She didn't want to use her supplies on him, especially if she had to kill him later.
"Pack," He grunted, glancing towards the dark lump close by in the snow. "Hurry up. It's fucking cold out here."
"Quit your bitching." She shot back, locating the first aid kit in his pack. She found the medi-gel inside, then held the gash closed and covered it in a thick layer of the gooey substance. His blood covered her hands, the smell of hot metal pervading the bitter air.
"I think you'll survive," she told him sarcastically, bandaging the wound. Her fingers began to tingle strangely, and she quickly wiped her hands off in the snow. She shoved the kit back into his bag and headed back towards the vehicle, not bothering to help him up. He huffed behind her, struggling to catch up while contending with his heavy pack and the knife-wound.
She climbed into the vehicle, and he followed her up the ladder. He dropped his gear to the floor as she settled into the driver's seat.
"Wait," he said suddenly as she rested her hand on the throttle.
"What?" She snapped.
"I can't leave without my team."
"Four of them?"
He eyed her suspiciously, fingers suddenly tight on the handle of her knife. "Yes…"
"They're dead. I didn't do it, just found the bodies," she added hurriedly, swallowing the inexplicable lump of guilt in her throat. It wasn't like she had killed them. He let out a low noise, his mandibles hanging loose, and hung his head. She didn't need a translator to tell her that meant grief. Fuck, she never expected to feel sorry for a turian.
"Look, my squad's dead too. Let's just focus on getting the hell out of here, okay?"
He gave a short nod, squared his shoulders as he settled into the passenger seat, and began scanning the road for batarians.
"This planet is a shithole," he grumbled.
"Tell me about it," she agreed, flooring the gas.
VVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVVV
Hi, folks!
First and foremost, huge thanks to everyone who has reviewed Invictus. Don't worry, I haven't given up on Invictus, just having some trouble working through some scenes.
Anyway, I thought this would be a little something to sate those wanting a new chapter of Invictus while I work out the kinks. I hope you like it, and if you do or have constructive criticism, please let me know.
I am currently writing on another much darker story as well as Invictus and Desperate Measures. Juggling them is a bit of a pain, but this way I figure I can have something more often for you guys. The third story should be up in a couple weeks (but is not for the faint of heart).
If you would like to read the prompt for the third fanfiction, the specific document is Goliat Krubbus' Application by Krubbus on deviantart. If you have trouble finding it through conventional search means, it is under my (Kuwashiifangirl) favorites. More details on the author's note I will be posting at the beginning of the story.
Stay beautiful!
SB