A/N: I decided to take a little break from my Walking Dead fic to post this, the first chapter of a new Pandorum fic. There are way too few fanfics about this awesome movie, so I decided to add my own contribution. Plus I seem to be on a Norman Reedus kick right now. As soon as I saw his character Shepard my appreciation for the movie rose substantially. Even though Shepard only lasted a few minutes, he was so memorable I just had to write something about him. So, here it is. Hope y'all like it!
P.S. The dialog between Shepard and Bower was taken directly from the movie, as is much of the action from the time Shepard gets caught in the trap to when he gets lassoed near the end. Everything before and after that is from my own imagination.
Disclaimer: I have not the slightest claim on Pandorum, the Hunters, or the character of Shepard.
He woke from a nightmare to find himself falling - no, suspended. Tangled in thick cables. He let out a choking gasp and flailed in panic, knocking the mask off his face. There was a loud click as something disconnected and he fell. Only the narrowness of the cylinder kept him from landing on his face. His nose mashed against the curved wall. He drew back with a groan and touched his nose gingerly, surprised when his fingers came away free of blood. He stared at his hand. The skin was loose and wrinkled, like he'd been soaking in a tub for three days straight. His eyes traveled down his arm, then to his torso. That same wrinkly skin all over. He was naked except for a pair of diaper-like boxers and the harness that had tethered him to the cables.
Where...? It was his first semi-coherent thought. He braced his hands against the sides of the cylinder and rose shakily to his feet. There was a window directly in front of his face. It looked out on a blank metal wall. No help there. He fumbled around until his hand brushed against something and the front of the sleep chamber hissed open. He stumbled, lost his balance, and landed on his hands and knees. Cold. He shivered. After a few minutes he rose up to his knees, then somehow got to his feet. He turned on unsteady legs and looked at his former prison. The chamber door had closed behind him. Etched onto the window glass were the words CORPORAL SHEPARD.
Shepard. An inkling of memory, like an itch at the back of his brain. I'm Shepard. But what the hell was his first name? While he pondered this, he scratched absently at his arm until he felt something tear. Alarmed, he looked down and discovered a rip in the wrinkly skin, revealing normal, healthy flesh underneath. Relieved, he continued to tear away the dead outer layer. Jammed into his left forearm was the biggest intravenous needle he'd ever seen. It was like a goddamned spear! Repulsed, he turned his head away as he pulled it out of his arm, whimpering at the feeling of the huge needle sliding out. He was surprised there wasn't much blood. His eyes drifted from the rapidly clotting wound to a strange tattoo. It was a series of letters and numbers written with the precision of a computer printout: FLT006018. Without even knowing how he knew, his mind translated the strange code: Flight Crew, Team Six.
So, my name's Shepard and I'm an officer on the flight crew of...whatever this is. Some kind of deep-space vessel. Which meant he'd probably been asleep for years. Common side-effects of prolonged hypersleep include disorientation and temporary memory loss, a matter-of-fact voice recited in his head, Intensive training and conditioning is required to counteract the effects so that crewmembers can continue to function in their duties.
Great, so he couldn't remember his own mother, but he still knew how to pilot. What a huge fucking relief, he thought sourly.
He found a storage locker with his name on it. Inside was a uniform, boots, and a handful of mementos. A palm-sized reader, a flint arrowhead with a broken tip tied to a loop of string to make a crude necklace, a picture of a mountain-scape taped to the wall of the locker. There was also a photo of himself posing with an older couple and a young woman who looked a lot like him. A name rose up in his mind: Emma. His sister. Which meant the other two people had to be their parents. He shoved all of these small items - except the reader - into one of the numerous pockets of his uniform and slammed the locker shut.
Something occurred to him. Why the hell was he alone? He should have been awakened by the previous team. Him and the rest of the people on his rotation. So where the fuck was everyone? There were two other cylinders that should have contained the rest of the Team Six flight crew, both empty. It was then that he felt the first hint of trepidation. Something wasn't right.
There was a rumble, a sudden vibration, and the lights flickered overhead. Fearful that he might wind up in total darkness, he fumbled with a door marked EMERGENCY SUPPLIES and cracked one of the light sticks he found inside. And not a moment too soon, because the next thing he knew the lights had given up the ghost.
"What the fuck is going on?" he whispered. It still sounded way too loud to his ears. He grabbed a handful of light sticks and stuffed them into one of the deep thigh pockets, then he headed for the door. There had to be somebody else awake on this ship. He couldn't be the only one.
The feeling of wrongness only grew when he stepped out into the corridor. The walls were coated in grime and some kind of weird mossy growth. Something dripped from a crack in the ceiling panels, making the floor a slippery hazard. Only a handful of lights worked, and most of those flickered like strobes. The place looked like a ghost ship. Shepard was suddenly tempted to turn around and put himself back into hypersleep, but instead he crept down the long corridor, hoping to encounter someone who might give him some answers. The ship was like a maze, each turn leading to even grimmer sights. Once or twice he opened his mouth to call out, only to feel his voice die in his throat. Some instinct told him to keep quiet. It wasn't long before he was glad he listened.
First came the ghostly blue light. Relief surged in him. Someone else was awake! He started to run towards the glow, ready to shout a greeting, when he heard a sound that made him freeze mid-step and his throat constrict in fear. An eerie howl that went straight to the most primitive part of his brain and triggered a fight-or-flight response. He promptly chose the latter option. He found a nearby maintenance hatch and pried it open, flinging his light stick far down the passage so it wouldn't be seen from outside, then diving in after it and shutting the hatch behind him. Morbid curiosity made him leave the hatch open the barest crack. He had to see what the fuck had made that godawful noise.
The blue light's intensity increased as it neared. He heard the regular thunk of footsteps. Then he saw it. At first, his mind couldn't process what his eyes showed him. Jutting spikes and bloodless skin, jagged teeth set in a misshapen skull. Whatever this monstrosity was, it sure as shit wasn't human.
The creature's bulbous head turned from side to side as it sniffled loudly. It reminded Shepard of footage he once saw as a kid about extinct predators. Wolves and tigers sniffing out prey. The thought made him shudder. He wanted to get away, but didn't dare more for fear of that thing hearing him. So he stayed and watched and prayed it would pass him by. Fuck, if only he weren't sweating so much!
The monster continued to snuffle as it slunk down the corridor. Suddenly, it froze. It caught a whiff of something.
Shepard's muscles tensed, ready for flight. Please don't find me, please don't find me...
The creature let out a blood-curdling yowl and dashed forward, passing his hiding place. Before relief could set in, he heard a metallic rattle, then a voice shrieked in terror, "No! No, please! Somebody help me! Hel-" The horrible sound of flesh ripping and a prolonged gurgle.
Shepard covered his mouth with his hand to stifle the fearful whimpers. Then he heard something that made his empty stomach heave, the wet slurps of the monster feeding. They seemed to go on forever. When they finally ended, the creature dragged its unfortunate victim's remains back the way it had come. Shepard glimpsed a shredded uniform and a gaping wound where the stomach should have been. He was grateful he couldn't see the dead person's face.
He waited until there was no trace of the monster's blue light before he dared to come out of hiding. He cracked another light stick and shuffled down the corridor in the opposite direction of where the creature headed. He found where the faceless victim had been hiding, an old storage cubby that once contained maintenance equipment. Its door had been wrenched open with such force the hinges were bent out of shape. That fucking monster was strong.
A glint on the floor caught his attention. A shard of metal, one end wrapped in fabric as a makeshift handle. A crude weapon. Didn't do that poor bastard any good, though. Still, it was better than nothing. He picked it up and slipped it into yet another pocket, then continued on his way.
It was impossible to keep track of the days in the ship's perpetual gloom. The few lights that worked proved unreliable, prone to going dark without warning, only to flare back to life when those strange power surges happened. Shepard was pretty sure there was a problem with the ship's reactor, but damned if he knew how to fix it, even if he knew where the reactor was. His only hope was that Earth had found out about the ship's plight and mounted a rescue. This scenario was about as likely as him crapping golden eggs, but if he didn't cling to this slim hope he would probably turn suicidal.
The ship was called Elysium, the ancient Greek word for heaven. A sick joke, considering the hell Shepard had woken to. Those monsters were everywhere, prowling the corridors in packs or alone. They were strong and fast and utterly relentless. Shepard quickly grew adept at hiding from them. He coated himself in machine oil to conceal his scent, traveled in silence, and holed up in whatever tight space he could find so he could grab a few hours of uneasy sleep. Food and water were a real problem. Most of the emergency caches were either already emptied or rendered completely inedible when their airtight seals apparently failed at some point. He could feel his uniform getting looser on him.
Hunger and exhaustion soon took their toll. He grew careless. He wandered down a darkened corridor, the last of his light sticks long gone. While he kept his eyes open for the blue light that often preceded the Hunters, as he'd come to think of them, and his ears tuned to any sign of movement other than his own, Shepard otherwise paid little attention to his surroundings. If he had, he might have glimpsed the trap before he sprang it.
It was pure dumb luck that the thin cable didn't wrap fully around his neck like it was meant to. One of his arms went through the loop as well. The metal cable tightened painfully beneath his armpit as Shepard was suddenly yanked upward. So violently was he snared, the metal shard he'd taken to carrying around rather than keeping in his pocket flew from his grip. He couldn't cut himself free. Not that he had a chance to think of it since the top of his head collided with the ceiling before the trap's pulleys unspooled just enough to leave his feet dangling about a foot off the ground. As consciousness fell away, he didn't even have time to wonder if he'd ever wake again.
But wake he did, as abruptly as he'd passed out. His eyes snapped open to discover a shadowy figure standing inches from him. He panicked, certain it was one of the Hunters come to finish him off. He flailed and kicked like a hooked fish, screaming in terror. She shadowy figure grabbed hold of him, trying to restrain his violent thrashing. This only made him try to fight back harder at first, until it began to sink in that this stranger wasn't actually trying to kill him. Then he realized the sounds he heard were words he could understand, uttered in a harsh whisper.
"Quiet! Shh."
Shepard stopped struggling, breathing in rapid, terrified gasps. The stranger's tone softened as he tried to sound reassuring. "We have to shut the hell up. Do you understand? I'm gonna get you out of this, but you have to be quiet. You understand?"
Shepard managed a shaky nod. The stranger's arms withdrew and a moment later there was a loud snip and Shepard dropped to the floor. He landed on his back, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. The stranger stood over him. He was a young guy with close-cropped blonde hair. His uniform was far cleaner than Shepard's was at this point, the name tag sewn on read BOWER. He was wearing one of those nonlethal anti-riot guns on the same hand that clutched a small flashlight, and Shepard saw the telltale red wink of a communications device clipped to the man's left ear. The man played his flashlight beam over Shepard's form and paused at his exposed left forearm. He whispered something to whoever was at the other end of the comm device. Shepard made out the words "Team Six" and "supposed to follow us."
The man, Bower, reached down to touch him. Shepard jerked away and started to hyperventilate again.
"Quiet!" Bower hissed, "Quiet. Easy. I'm not gonna hurt you, but you have to be quiet. Do you hear me?"
The ring of authority in the man's voice did more to calm Shepard than his words did. His training kicked in. "Shepard. Team Six, sir," he answered in a surprisingly level voice, "I believe I'm the only one."
He sat up. "I knew it," he said, relief flooding in, "I knew you'd come back."
Bower frowned. "What?"
Shepard ignored the other's confusion. He looked around. "Where's your squad?"
"Squad? This," he indicated his comm device, "This is my lieutenant."
"Where's your shuttle?" Shepard asked, his relief rapidly dwindling.
"Shuttle? What are you talking about?"
"You're the retraction crew," he said, his voice desperate, almost pleading, "Right?"
Bower's eyes widened in understanding. "No. No, I'm Team Five."
Shepard stared in disbelief. "You just woke up?"
"Six or eight hours ago."
"So you don't know what the fuck's going on," Shepard accused, as if the man had deliberately misled him.
Bower continued to be irritatingly reasonable. "That's what I'm saying."
Shepard growled in frustration. "You know as much as me, man." He struggled to his feet.
"I don't know anything," Bower said, despondent.
"You-" Both men jumped as a strange noise echoed in the distance. It might have been some kind of alarm on the fritz, or it might have been Hunters. It was hard to say one way or the other. Shepard noticed a broken wall panel and hurried towards it. "You're gonna fit right in," he stated sarcastically. He squeezed a leaking hose, collecting a double handful of oozing black crud and smearing it liberally over his hands and face, anywhere there was exposed skin.
Bower watched his actions in dismay. "What are you doing?"
"Get the scent off," he muttered.
"Scent?"
"They're fast and they're fucking stronger than you know." Shepard saw his metal shard lying a short distance away and hurried towards it. He pointed a warning finger at Bower as he passed. "They come after you, you run. You run and you don't fucking look back."
He picked up the shard. "I can't wait for you," he said, voice quavering with guilt and fear. It wasn't a pleasant thing to discover one was basically a coward.
Bower walked up to him. Shepard's growing anxiety seemed to be rubbing off. "Who...Who are they?"
"I can't help you," Shepard swallowed. He took the cable that had originally snared him and began coiling it around his hand, securing the metal shard in his grip. Whatever happened, he wanted to make damn sure he didn't drop his only weapon again.
"Help me," Bower whispered. The poor bastard was just as scared and confused as him. Shepard's guilt flared, but he shoved it aside. This guy would only slow him down, and that meant instant death where Hunters were concerned. Shepard had no intention of dying.
Bower tried another tack, "You're still an officer of this ship, and at the current time your CO is ordering you-"
God, seriously? "Ordering me?" Shepard scoffed, "That's funny."
Bower persisted, "-now is ordering you-"
Shepard snarled, impatient to get away from this naïve idiot, "You're late. There's no fucking CO on this ship." He started to storm away. "Fuck you."
A distant roar coming from the direction he was headed brought him up short. More sounds joined in, yowls and snarls. A blue glow began to creep into the corridor. Shepard stumbled back, the panic rising in him again. He passed Bower, who stood staring in anxious puzzlement. The blonde man raised his anti-riot gun and pointed it at the approaching glow.
"That's not gonna save you," Shepard warned, still backing away. He broke into a run as the howls grew louder. A few seconds later he heard Bower's footfalls behind him. He didn't wait for the other man. Part of him hoped the Hunters might become too occupied with Bower to come after Shepard. He knew he'd hate himself for thinking that later on. If there was a later.
Shepard ran through the maze of corridors until he came to a vast area where the floor was honeycombed with square pits. He jumped over one of them, scrambled into a small alcove, and squeezed himself into the narrow gap. With any luck, the Hunters would overlook him.
He heard Bower cry out, then a heavy thud as his body hit the floor. He'd tried to follow Shepard and only succeeded in falling into the pit. Shepard could see the guy looking at him through the huge window. The idiot was out in the open. The Hunters were sure to spot him.
Go, Shepard mouthed, waving his arm at him. Fucking hide! He then quickly ducked farther back into his hiding place. The Hunters' roars had fallen silent. Did they move on? Shepard risked peering out.
A loop of cable dropped out of nowhere and lassoed him. Shepard was thrown back and dragged rapidly across the floor. He frantically tried to work his fingers under the noose while his legs thrashed ineffectually. Then he was airborne once again. He glimpsed a Hunter dropping on the opposite end of the line as he rose, the creature acting as a counterweight. Shepard's vision went gray as he struggled to breathe. The Hunters yowled in victory and clustered around his dangling form. Shepard lashed out with his shard of metal. The creatures seemed amused by his pathetic attempt to defend himself. They bristled with weapons, knives and spears with jagged blades, made for tearing through flesh. And all were pointed at him.
I'm gonna die. It was his last coherent thought before a knife plunged into his side. Shepard's mouth flew open in a voiceless scream of agony. In a second his belly would be ripped open and his guts would spill out. The monsters would start eating him before he was even dead.
But that's not what happened.
The Hunter hanging from the cable suddenly fell as its end of the line was severed. At the same time, Shepard flew upward so swiftly the rest of the Hunters didn't have a chance to grab onto him. Shepard found himself rising through a hole in the ceiling. Hands grabbed onto his arms and dragged him further in. A panel slid over the opening, cutting off the Hunters' enraged howls. Shepard felt the cable loosened from around his neck and gasped, sucking air into his starved lungs even though it hurt his throat to do so. He heard voices, but couldn't make out what they were saying. Everything was moving far away and the darkness was everywhere. Shepard's eyes rolled up into his head as, for the second time that day, he passed out.