A/N: Attention all readers! Please be aware of the fact this short story has been abandoned and is not going to be finished. For more details and to be rerouted to my current work in progress that has replaced DOF, please fast forward to chapter four, labeled 'Final Note'. If you would still like to read what little I have committed to Day of Fire, than by all means continue on and enjoy.


Day of Fire

A Mass Effect 2 Fan Fiction

Prologue

Other than the occasional discharge of an electrical spark from a breach in the ceiling and one of the lights above stuttering on and off, the Normandy's briefing room was unsettlingly quiet. Twelve individuals stood around the single table occupying the space, it's usual clean and polished wood now scraped, dented, and chipped in numerous locations. They were a ragtag team of brave men and women, all turned brothers-in-arms by mutual struggles, an ever escalating conflict, and an all-too-important mission with nothing more than the fate the galaxy hanging in the balance. Now here they were, the most dangerous people in the known universe, unable to speak in the wake of what had happened and everything that has yet to happen. Eventually, unable to tolerate the laconism any longer, a single man spoke from the end of the table. The black N7 armor he wore, its red stripe running from the top of his right shoulder to the end of his wrist, always seemed to garner the attention of those around him with ease. "Alright, what's our sitrep?" His voice was calm and focused, yet hinted with a sense of urgency. It sounded almost electronic as it was emitted through the vocalizer of the black combat helmet that encompassed the entire man's head.

The feminine, accented voice that was the first to reply held no hesitation. The strength within it was accompanied by a similar electronic echo as the words passed through the speakers of a helmet. "The ship's engines are offline and the Eezo core's stability is fluctuating." The man in black-clad armor looked to the right of the table to focus on his Quarian Chief Engineer now speaking. Purple was her defining color; nearly every inch of her clothing was covered by it. The only exceptions were the black of her environment suit, the bright gold of her neck piece, and the lighter shades of the patterns and swirls that decorated her hood. Even the visor that protected her face from both harm and viewing was purple. "Keelah, that Collector cruiser hit us hard, even with the upgrades to the Normandy's armor and shielding. The crash landing didn't help either."

"Is there anything we should seriously worry about?"

"Thankfully, no. I have my team working on emergency repairs, but..." Her head shifted down a bit, her almond shaped eyes, glowing through the visor, displayed a small level of uncertainty. "I don't know if the Normandy will be flight-worthy anytime soon."

A quiet sigh escaped the man's mouth. "I'm sure they'll pull through, Tali. You've taught them well since coming aboard."

The Quarian raised her head, a new confidence burning through her body language. If not for the mask, a small smile would have been on display for all in the room to see. "Thank you, Shepard."

Commander Jonathan Shepard, former Earth Systems Alliance marine and current Citadel Council Special Tasks and Reconnaissance operator, nodded in acknowledgement and grinned slightly under his helmet. Only the woman he loved, Tali'Zorah Vas Normandy, could have caused such a thing while under the terrible circumstances they now faced. Seeing her confident in her abilities and the team of engineers she turned into experts never ceased to bring a warm peace-of-mind to the spectre. The reality of the situation, however, came rushing back, forcing him to drop his smile and refocus his attention. "EDI, what do our casualties look like?"

A synthetic female voice reverberated throughout the room, originating not from a single point. It spoke with a precision and stability that could only be expected of an Artificial Intelligence, though the voice still maintained a level of humanity and emotion. "A total count of nine crewmen have been administered to the Medical Bay, Commander. Six are suffering from minor injuries and two are currently in critical care. One marine had succumbed to his wounds and is confirmed KIA."

"Better than I expected," the commander admitted with another solemn sigh. "Who was the marine?"

"Corporal Nathan McKenzie of Charlie squad."

Shepard lifted his hands from the conference table and straightened his back as he cast his gaze upon every person in the room. "Nathan McKenzie's death will not be in vain. Neither will the death of those who haven't yet met their fate. I swear my life on it." There was the smallest hint of anger beside his conviction and he clenched his fists. "Now if you ask me, it's time to blow this damn space station to hell."

A round of agreeing grunts and murmurs sounded off from the group. Grunt, the tank-bred Krogan warrior, slammed his fists together with a roar. Of all the races in the galaxy, his people looked more like bipedal dinosaurs than anything else. They even had small, lizard-like tails. It would be unwise to say that in an insulting manner, however. They were just as dangerous and sometimes bloodthirsty as the long extinct animals that once roamed prehistoric Earth. "Whenever you're ready, Shepard," the Krogan said with a smile. "The last thing they will know is the name of my battle master as we crush their skulls under our feet!"

"What's the plan, Commander?" Shepard looked to the far side of the table to his left to see Miranda Lawson wearing the full regalia of her white, black, and gold painted Cerberus armor. Her normally long, jet black hair was now tied in a bun on the back of her head, allowing the secure use of the helmet wrapped under her right arm. The Cerberus operative wore a faint smile on her lips, something rarely seen.

"EDI, pull up the 3D map." No sooner had he finished the command did a holographic projection of the entire Collector stronghold appear over the center of the table. With it was the layout of a large portion of the colossus station's interior. Hundreds of rooms and corridors were mapped out by the Normandy's scans, but in actuality it appeared more like the hive of an insect species. There was no strict organization to any of it. No elevator or obvious signs of advanced architecture. Every stretch of space curved or twisted in irregular fashions. What made matters worse for navigation was the fact the majority of the inner parts of the station had appeared to be too deep for the scans to penetrate due to jamming. Some of the tunnels became incomplete once they reached a specific point while others looked as if they simply stopped at a large space in the center of the space station. "If I may have all of your attention.

Upon our emergency landing on the outer hull of the Collector station, EDI managed to identify a large energy reading deep within the base before enemy jammers disrupted our scans." An orb of light subsequently appeared near the exact center of the holographic vessel above the table. "As to what it is, EDI can explain."

The AI seamlessly continued for Shepard. "If the brief scans I ascertained are correct, the large signature of energy is believed to be the station's mass effect core. Its approximate location is within a large central chamber, surrounded by hundreds of inactive life forms. Given the circumstances, it is more than likely these are the missing colonists."

"If these mappings are accurate, the primary Command and Control Center is situated within the same chamber," Jacob Taylor said matter-of-factly. The ebony skinned former Alliance marine's arms were crossed and his stare remained on the holographic display, analyzing it with the mind of a soldier.

Miranda, with her Australian accent, seemed to continue his train of thought. "All of our objectives are in the same general area. That makes our job considerably easier."

Jacob interjected before anyone could respond to the woman. "That area is the heart of the station. No doubt it's going to be heavily defended." He looked to the commander with the strict intention of providing experienced insight. "Anywhere we hit, the Collectors will respond in strength."

"Which is why we split into two teams," Shepard declared. On cue, indicators appeared on the hologram displaying two separate routes from the Normandy crash site leading to the central chamber. "Alpha and Charlie squads, call signs King and Whiplash, will proceed down the route most likely to encounter the heaviest resistance. Squads Bravo and Delta, call signs Spearhead and Tomahawk, will move along the secondary route and keep the Collector forces off balance."

"King and Whiplash will need to get through those bulkhead doors blocking the way." Garrus Vakarian pointed his talon near the end of the first route on the holographic image. The Turian was still wearing his blue armor that had been damaged during his final hours as the vigilante Archangel on Omega. His scarred right face a grim and lasting reminder of those days. "A few satchel charges or thermite might do the trick. Knocking a few things down with explosives here and there never let us down before, but it will take time. Time we might not have while under fire."

"He is correct," said Thane Krios, the Drell assassin. "The Collectors will overwhelm us before we can achieve a controlled detonation large enough to blow through the doors. If I may make a suggestion?"

"Your insight here is appreciated just as much as anyone else's, Thane."

Thane provided a thankful nod to the commander before activating the omni-tool on his right arm. Seconds later, a third, smaller path parallel to the first appeared highlighted on the map. "EDI's scans indicated a ventilation shaft follows alongside the primary route, just large enough for a single person to walk through. If a tech expert can manage to traverse it, they could reach the emergency terminal and hack into the doors. Once done, they will be able to exit the shaft through a nearby vent."

Shepard crossed his arms, skeptical of the assassin's intentions, not his idea. "And I assume you're volunteering?"

"Of course," Thane admitted without a hint of hesitation.

"That's practically a suicide mission." The commander shook his head. "The Collectors will block the route off with section seals and begin overheating the shaft as soon as they discover someone is in there."

"Shepard," the assassin retorted with a certain acceptance in his voice. "I am already dying. Thanks to you, I have been lucky enough to speak with my son a final time and bring a little light into the world before the end of my life. I could not ask for a better death if it means you will succeed in your mission."

The spectre sighed. "I'm not sending you to die, Thane. You will see Kolyat again if I have any say in the matter." At that moment, Shepard shifted his gaze to the only individual, if it could be called that, he absolutely knew for a fact could get the job done without suffering the ultimate sacrifice. The only soldier in the room that was almost guaranteed to be a better hacker than even Tali. "Legion, you can hack through damn near anything and you don't need to worry about the heightened temperatures as much as an organic. You're going into the shaft."

The Geth platform's optical headlight looked at Shepard and nodded. The synthetic never displayed any form of body language other than the plates atop its head, which would sometimes move and shift at the rare times Legion showed very slight emotional reactions that were normally unusual for his kind. This time, however, no such movements occurred. "Acknowledged," was the only response the Geth provided in its robotic voice.

The commander straightened his back again and spared glances at everyone surrounding the table, his gaze holding on Tali a little longer than the others. No one other than him could tell, but she wanted to say something. Her eyes, which stared right back into his, said as much. If she was not going to speak up now, she surely would at some point after the briefing, but before departing. "Now that we have a decent plan put together, are there any questions?" The majority of the group shook their heads or verbally spoke 'no' or 'negative'.

Miranda, however, took the opportunity. "Who will be the squad leaders, commander?" She spoke with the face of her usual cold and determined self, but there was clearly intent in her eyes.

"No so fast." Jack, the biotic convict, glared at Miranda with a malicious stare. As per standing orders, she too was wearing the standard issue Cerberus marine armor, her tattoo covered body hidden from view. "Nobody wants to take orders from the cheerleader."

Shepard noticed Garrus shake his head as he stood behind Jack, opposing the idea just the same. He could not help but chuckle quietly under his helmet. "Squad assignments are same as always. Jacob has Tomahawk and Garrus will be in command of Spearhead, effectively leading Team 2 as the highest in command." He shot a stare at Jack and then to Miranda. "Miranda will have Whiplash, while I'll be leading King. With that being said, we all know who is in charge. Understood?" His last question came out more a sharp statement than anything else.

The two bickering women stood straight and replied in unison. "Yes, commander."

"Good. It's settled then." Shepard slowly looked around the room again. He focused his attention to every face of the people he had come to respect and care for. A small voice in the back of his mind was yelling at him, saying he might have gotten too close. Especially to one Quarian woman in particular. He did not regret his relationships, but he simply thought, at that very instance, they might come back to haunt him if they did not manage to see tomorrow and he somehow did. The spectre shook away that train of thought and began sluggishly pacing at the end of the table.

"I'm not going to stand here and lie to you. This mission is likely to be the toughest all of us have ever faced. Not everyone will have the chance to go home alive at the end of the day." The commander ceased pacing at his original spot and stood at parade rest, never removing his gaze from the eyes of his comrades. "The collectors have stolen hundreds of thousands of people. Men, women, and children. But today, as we stand here at the enemy's gates, it's not important. When we step foot on that station, what matters is this: Not. One. More!" He emphasized each of the three words with a chop of his right hand. "That is our primary objective. That is what we can do today! The threat of the Collectors stops here. Their terror ends with us.

They want to know what we can do? What we can achieve? I say we show them everything to the last detail. Let's show them what a band of full spectrum warriors, fighting the good fight, can accomplish together! Because I can bet you this: it will be the last damn thing they see!"