1.
Kassius felt familiarly numb as he looked out into the infinite white death of Noveria from the relative comfort of his home. He held a tablet in his hand, though in his state of boredom, he struggled to retain even a single line of writing. His brother had a peculiar taste in stories that Kassius did not share, but out here he had little to do and even less to read, so he found himself sifting through his collection piece by piece.
He had only been on the planet for around a month, but it was a solitary confinement in this shelter. His shuttle had crashed into the mountain just behind him, killing nearly everyone on board. Few crawled out, but with damages to their suits, the temperatures set in; fifteen men, including his only surviving family, were lost to the storms. He was the only one left. For all he knew, no one was ever coming.
They'd made a random jump. It was all they could do to escape the reaper that rapidly closed in on them. They were nowhere near a relay; they were quite deep in the middle of nowhere, in fact, as they sought the remains of an Asari warship that might help turn the tides of the war. Things were fairly close to an end then. He wasn't sure if he'd ever know the conclusion.
Food, water, shelter, and air. He was alive, thanks to whatever luck carried him to this abandoned research bunker, but he was sure that another month of this and he might start to imagine companions. Maybe he might see his brother again after all. Maybe he'd get to tell him how terrible his taste in literature was.
His silver eyes heavily lifted, glaring at the world he'd come to hate. White, white, white, white, white, white, grey, white.
Grey?
He stood up, shaking his head. It had to be a rock peaking out among the ice. The mind had a way of teasing him – sometimes he'd see shadows in the room with him, or hear someone saying his name. He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly and remembering to count to ten before he opened them.
Your name is Kassius. You are alone. There is no one out there.
He slowly looked once more. Clear as day, there was smoke rising from the valley, and lots of it. He stood quickly enough to knock over his chair, dropping the tablet.
There's no one out there, he told himself. There's no one out there. No one out there. You're alone, Kass. Don't do this to yourself.
Shut up, he replied. Shut your damned mouth.
He tripped over the chair as he rushed over to the closet, but he was quick to be back on his feet. He quickly removed one of the station's exosuits and shimmied out of his own clothing. The sensation of the armor was odd, since the only clothing he had sported in a month was a soft, warm material.
What if it's the Geth? Spirits, what if it's more of those abominations?
Fighting himself, he donned a helmet, heading for the door. He had no weapons on him, but at this rate, if something was out there and ready to kill him, at least it would spare him any more time in this purgatory.
Kassius opened the door, feeling a blast of cold air that seemed to penetrate his suit, though he knew he was safe. It was far colder out there than what he was feeling. That wasn't a campfire, it was too big – someone else had crashed down here, and the second they moved away from that fire, they would have only minutes.
His feet sank into the snow, making running a difficult task. They weren't far, maybe less than a kilometer, but he had to maneuver his way down to the valley, which added several minutes onto his journey. The air, conditioned as it was, bit at his lungs with each inhale. As he made his way to the scene, he analyzed more of the crash.
It was a human ship, that was certain. It seemed to be an older make of an Alliance ship, but from here he could tell that much of the crew was dead. Their bodies were black as pitch, scattered along the ground in various macabre positions.
Might as well turn back. You shouldn't have gotten your hopes up.
He hesitated, but continued forward.
Someone must be alive. I lived, didn't I? I have to know. I have to see.
The Turian trudged against the thick layer of ice that must have once been a river, long before anyone could have written of it. The front of the ship had pierced it, leaving cracks around its point of entry. Kassius carefully walked around it, analyzing the bodies for signs of life.
"H…"
His voice was weak from retirement. He cleared his throat.
"Hello? Is anyone out there? Can anyone hear me?"
He waited.
There's no one. Go home, kid. Get back to your book and try to actually read it this time. Krogan mythology can't be that bad.
"Please, if you can hear me, I'm not here to hurt you! I can take you somewhere safe."
I don't want to be alone.
He shivered as the minutes passed, hopes decreasing along with his body heat. He lowered his head, mourning the people he didn't know. If everyone had lived, of course, he couldn't have done much – there wasn't much space in his bunker, let alone food. He'd already done the math, and with the levo-synthesizer, he had around one year of supplies from when he started.
He emitted a low whine, one of many various subharmonics the Turians were capable of, and one that wasn't often heard. Adults had too much shame to whimper in such a way, but he was barely an adult and full of woe. Now was the time to be childish and cry.
Turning his back, Kassius decided he had wasted enough time. He shook his head, throat flanging pitifully and echoing through his helmet. He trudged forward, eyes on the ground as his mind humiliated him for bearing any semblance of hope.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement from one of the bodies. It was subtle, but stopped him in his tracks.
It's in your head. Keep moving.
He crept towards the body, studying it for any signs of movement. It had to be a female, judging by the shape of her form; he at least knew that of the humans. He wasn't sure through the armor, but she appeared to be slowly breathing.
"Spirits," he whispered, bending down and giving her a light shake on the shoulder. With no response, he deemed her unconscious and reached for the dogtags that hung from her neck. "C-… Catherine Walters, hm?"
The name rolled off of his tongue with a hard pronunciation of each syllable. Human names were far more varied than most other races', but they were new to galactic civilization and had only unified as a species in the last two centuries. They still knew their cultures and dialects, but they knew that both would succumb to the will of the galactic community.
He lifted her up.
"Okay, Catherine. I've got you. Stay with me."