Chapter 1: The Great Escape

Short, hard breaths and the pounding of two sets of feet were the only sounds echoing throughout the rather large duct system within the Citadel Tower. It felt like it was getting harder to breathe in here, even though these ducts are the main oxygen dispensers for the Tower.

"Bug! You're the one who wants to see Commander Shepard at the Council. Stop being such a slow poke and hurry up!" the twanging voice of my best friend echoed back from his position in the duct above me, the last jump up I'd have to make for the vantage point I wanted.

"Not all of us are freakin' faster-than-anythin' turians, Sticky! I don't have as much stamina as you and we've been runnin' nonstop for ten minutes!" I managed to say back, coughing a bit after the last word from pure exhaustion but reaching the small ladder that would bring me to where Sticky was. I started to climb up.

On the last rung, a three-fingered hand enclosed my wrist and pulled me up in one awkward motion.

"Thanks." I said, getting ready for another running session. The short (but still taller than me) adolescent alien rolled his bright green eyes at me and crouched down with his back towards me.

"Get on." He commanded, his maturing voice wobbling between a high and low pitch. I giggled at the sound. It reminded me of when Mouse's voice broke, before he left our trio to become a duo.

I gave a thankful sigh as I collapsed on Sticky's back. He stood up without a problem and started running as if I weighed no more than Terry, the three-legged stuffed space monkey I had tucked under my arm.

I loved Terry. The little asari that owned him threw a fit one day in the commons and ripped off one of the legs. Her mother threw him out. Sticky scavenged and fixed him up for my eighth birthday last year. I never went anywhere without him.

The light at the end of the duct let me know that we were coming up to our destination, faster than if I was left to run the distance alone. I laughed when Sticky swung me around and put me down so that I could look through the mesh covering of the duct.

It had to be at least a six-story fall if the mesh broke, but our hard work was rewarded. Down below, Sticky and I could clearly see the three imposing figures of the Council standing across from a human woman. The woman and a few companions separated from the politicians by a chasm of glass. They were tiny, although I could still see a few details.

I couldn't help the excited smile that crossed my face as I took in my hero. She looked impressive on most of the news vids I managed to download onto my crappy omni-tool, but the grainy images do her no justice. She was not beautiful in a traditional sense, a bit too tall and broad with a few scars riddling her face, but her bright red hair was tied back into a professional bun and she was standing proudly, like she owned the ground she stood on.

I want to look like that, one day. Not crawling around in the ducts or scavenging for food. I want to look that proud. I want to be someone.

"Commander Shepard, step forward." I took in a sharp breath, hoping that the Council was going to do what I was hoping the Council would do.

"Excited, Bug?" Sticky asked me, amusement ringing clearly through his flanging voice. I could do nothing else but nod, unable to find anything to say.

The moment was like magic, and I would remember it for the rest of my life. Judging from the way that the crowds of people from all the Council species were hanging over the edge of the railing in the observance areas of the Tower, I wouldn't be the only one. I took a quick glance at the dark-plated turian beside me and giggled at the enraptured look on his face, one I was sure mirrored my own.

Not even Sticky, the guy who is more concerned about our survival and not much else, is immune to the magic.

"It is the decision of the Council that you be granted all the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel," the asari councilor said. The whole tower was so silent that her voice carried clearly up to the ceiling where Sticky and I were hiding.

They were doing it!

"Spectres are not trained, but chosen. Individuals forged in the fire of service and battle; those whose actions elevate them above the rank and file," the salarian added on, a slight tone of disbelief in her voice.

"Spectres are an ideal, a symbol. The embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance. They are the right hand of the Council, instruments of our will," the asari spoke once more. She was the calmest and most accepting of the three councilors. I liked her. Judging by what I thought was a slight incline of her head, Commander Shepard did to. Unless I totally imagined it, which I probably did.

"Spectres bear a great burden. They are protectors of galactic peace, both our first and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy if theirs to uphold," the turian said, his posture stiff and unyielding.

"You are the first human Spectre, Commander. This is a great accomplishment for you and your entire species," the asari spoke once more. Despite not being a member of the Alliance, a result of being raised a duct rat, I felt a pride in myself. It was silly, I know, but I couldn't help the way I felt.

Loud clanging noises drowned out whatever the Commander replied to the Council. I groaned at the loud approach of the keeper. No doubt it would drive us away from our spot, given the lack of room. The ducts may be large, but they were not built for a human, turian, and keeper to occupy the same space. I signed resignedly and pulled on Sticky's tattered shirt, motioning at the incoming bug-like alien.

"Are you sure you want to go? It won't hurt us. It'll just be annoying until we leave," Sticky said, still kneeling down by the edge of the duct opening. I shook my head in response, disappointed but logical.

"We can't hear anythin', anyways. No point in stayin' if a keeper is keepin' us from hearing what's going on," I replied, shrugging. Sticky didn't need much convincing, and he stood up next to me. He took my hand and we jumped over the opening, racing away from the incoming keeper.


"Geez, Sticky, you're gettin' less lanky every day! We're gunna have ta' change your name, at this rate!" I exclaimed, taking in my best friend. The skinny, stick-like limbs that were Sticky's namesake were gaining sinewy muscle. As a result, Sticky was starting to look like a proper turian instead of a tiny and underfed one.

"Thanks, Bug. You're just noticing this now?" he asked in response, tilting his head to the side. I shrugged sheepishly.

"Yep. I always forget how much faster turians age than humans. You're only two years older than me. Humans don't start maturin' 'till, like, thirteen or fourteen or something like that. At least, that's how old Mouse was when he went through it," I mused, staring down into the water of the Presidium lake. Sticky and I were both sitting on the edge, our legs peeking through the railing that blocked people off from randomly falling in.

"Well, I am eleven as of today. That's only two or three years earlier, so it's not that far off," Sticky said. His comment about his birthday was factual, as if it was something unimportant. I smiled, holding my present between my palms. He sent a curious glance towards my closed two-handed fist, but decided not to say anything. He turned away, taking in the unrealistic beauty that was the Presidium.

I sent him a message earlier to meet me here. We don't usually come to the Presidium, and especially not out in the open, but it was a special day even if Sticky disregarded it. I pulled myself back form leaning out of the railing, turning toward my best friend.

"Sticky," I said, tapping his shoulder. He pulled himself out from the railing and looked towards me.

"Put your hands out an' close your eyes," I said, trying and failing to hide my excitement. The charcoal-colored turian groaned, because he hates surprised, but obliged me anyway.

I placed the metal necklace, warmed from an hour of being held in my hands, into his talons. I smiled proudly when I saw the look of utter disbelief and happiness of his face.

It was a homemade dog tag. It wasn't as nice as actual dog tags, but I tried my best to make it as similar to the turian ones as possible. Real turian dog tags were rounder than the Alliance ones but other than that there was no big difference.

The tag was made of a discarded metal credit chit. Most chits were plastic or a similar substance but wealthy people who wanted to show off could buy the more expensive metal ones. I borrowed a hammer from a construction crew on lunch break and pounded the chit down so that it was a blank slate. I also borrowed a lighter from where it was discarded next to the hammer and together both of the tools shaped the tag to be rounder. I didn't have anything to imprint his name on, so I took my pocket knife and carved in his name myself.

The result? A crappy-looking disfigured tag on a string, since I couldn't find a metal chain. But it took a lot of work, and I could tell by his smile that he realized that.

Sticky's always told me that he wants to serve the Hierarchy in the military. The problem is that he's barefaced and there's no official record on him, just like there was no official record on me. If there were records, we wouldn't know about it. That's why so many of our fellow duct rats become mercenaries and criminals.

The tag would be his record. It's not much, but it's something.

Sticky's mandibles widened into the biggest smile I've ever seen on him. He was tracing the Sticy that was etched into the metal, his claw delicately tracing each letter.

"Sticy?" he asked me, letting out a laugh and pronouncing it Stye-cee. I blushed in embarrassment.

"I didn' remember there was a 'k' in there 'till I was done," I mumbled out, almost inaudible. Sticky let out another laugh and tied the string round his neck. He glanced away from me, resting the side of his head on the railing that was conveniently at his head level.

"Sticky? What's wrong? Was it somethin' I did?" I asked, a small amount of worry seeping into my system. Did I just do something that turians consider bad?

"Yeah, Bug. It was something you did," he said, turning back towards me. I was surprised to see tears in his eyes. I've never seen Sticky cry before.

Sticky was crying and oh my goodness what do I do I am horrible around crying people what do I say-

My thoughts were cut off when I was crushed against the plates of a turian chest. Sticky was shaking slightly and didn't say anything, but I knew what he was trying to say. I smiled and hugged him back.

Then our moment was interrupted by screams.

The both of us jumped up, heads snapping towards where the shrill sounds were coming from. Across the lake, we could see people being chased by machines. Gunshots rang out. A woman's chest was soaked with red, and she collapsed. I could feel the blood draining from my face.

"Are those... are those geth!" I gasped out, grabbing Terry from his position on the floor beside me. Sticky pulled his mandibles close to his face- his serious expression- and squinted at the scene. We heard distant mechanical whirrs. Sticky nodded.

"Let's go!" he said, grabbing my wrist and pulling me behind him on our way off the bridge. I was thankful that he was there- my knees were so weak that I would've collapsed otherwise. I gripped Terry in my free arm even tighter, trying to ignore the sounds of people screaming and machines getting louder. We darted away.

I was focused on my feet, only seeing the ground in front of me as my legs pumped as fast as possible. After a few minutes, I ran into Sticky's back. Looking up to see why we stopped, I nearly wet my pants.

Standing in front of us was a real, sentient geth. And it had a rocket launcher. We barely had time to duck behind a convenient potted plant before the rocket exploded where we were just standing.

A potted plant is not going to stop that monstrous thing from blowing us up.

"Bug, I have an idea," Sticky said, glancing around the edge of the plant. I stared at him with wide eyes, not needing to voice my question.

"That geth is standing right next to the lake," he said. My eyes widened even more, if that was possible. I had a feeling I knew where the plan was going.

"It has a rocket launcher. A. Rocket. Launcher. We are not goin' to get near that thing," I said. Even as I said that, the logic was sounder than anything I could have thought of. It takes a short amount of time to reload the launcher, in which we would rush the thing and push it over before it got any ideas of using the large weapon for melee purposes.

Sticky only stared at me, confidence and terror rivaling each other for the control of his facial expressions.

I sighed. Better to rush one geth and get away than wait, maybe get blown up, and face even more geth when they come. Sticky smiled shakily at my unvoiced acceptance.

"Okay, right when he shoots his next one, jump out from behind the pot. Make sure to stay away from the rocket. Run towards the thing and, well, push," Sticky said, shaky courage and determination overriding the fear I heard in his sub-vocals. I nodded my assent.

There was the whoosh of the rocket being let loose, and without waiting I jumped out of cover, knowing Sticky was doing the exact same thing. The rocket went past me, blowing my hair with the wind it stirred and leaving a trail of heat. I tried not to think as I ran up to the machine that was nearly as tall as Sticky was.

Sticky pushed the geth so that its back was against the railing, and I ducked down and grabbed its legs.

Geth are heavy.

I strained with the effort to heave the machine over, although Sticky was doing most of the work by focusing on its upper body and helping me with the legs.

After a small struggle, we won. The launcher was the first thing over, slipping out if its handler's hands. Then, the handler went after it. Sticky and I watched the AI splash into the clean water of the lake, sinking steadily. We didn't have time to revel in the win.

More whirrs and metallic stomping were coming our way, accompanied by various screams. Sticky and I glanced towards another and resumed running.

Our chests were heaving with the effort to breathe steadily, as the both of us were malnourished and unfit, but we managed to make it to where Sticky was leading us. My mouth dropped open at the sight of it.

There was a small chasm, barely five feet, between where we were and an open vent that led to the system of ducts that the both of us knew like the back of our hands. That chasm was so deep I couldn't see the end of it. We've never used that entrance to the ducts before, and with good reason.

"No," I said, stepping away from the edge. Sticky gripped my arm and kept me from moving away any further.

"It's the closest one. If we try to find another we'll probably be killed! Come on. I'll go first," he said reassuringly. I looked into the green eyes that I trusted so much and nodded, gesturing for him to go first as I gripped Terry in anticipation.

Sticky smiled and took a few steps back. He vaulted over the metal railing, stretched his long legs, and landed on the other side, clearing the edge by a few inches. I sighed in relief.

"JUMP!" Sticky shouted, gesturing behind me to where I'm sure some of the geth were coming.

I took a deep breath and tucked the space monkey against my side, holding him as tightly as possible in light of the incoming leap.

I ran, placed my feet on the railing, and jumped towards the vent.


I landed, wobbling uncertainly. I twisted my foot awkwardly after my ankle was caught by a random plant that was on the half wall I jumped over, but shook it off. I had to keep up with the two in front of me.

"What is it with the Citadel and getting attacked?" I screamed out in frustration, following the C-Sec officer who told us to stay with her. I glanced up at the turian next to me, a look of both annoyance and fear on my face.

Sticky was a good head and a half taller than me now, despite the fact that I've started growing too. Not only did turians develop early, but they also develop fast. After two years, Sticky was taller than most turian males while I was still at the average height for your average eleven year old human girl.

"It's Murphy's Law. Anything that can go wrong will go wrong. It just so happens that this wrong has happened before with a different type of attackers," my best friend replied. Despite the increasing danger of our situation, I looked curiously at him out of the corner of my eye.

"How'd you know about Murphy's Law?" I asked. His answer was delayed when the turian officer motioned for us to take cover as she spotted some people in white and yellow uniforms. The lady turian took cover behind a wall a few feet in front of us while Sticky and I crouched behind a counter in a store that had its windows broken.

"Extranet," he replied curtly, as if I should have known the answer. Of course. Sticky was one of the smartest people around and researched just about everything on the extranet, from food to propulsion systems to, apparently, human sayings. It was as if he had a thirst for learning, a thirst that I was lacking.

"Oh sh-" the C-Sec was cut off, her voice becoming gurgling gasps for air. I risked a glance over the counter.

A crouching female figure was standing over the dead C-Sec's body, a sword in one hand while the other hand was facing outwards. Her 'face' had four glowing eyes. It was creepier than anything I've ever seen. As a duct rat you see plenty of creepy things.

Oh shit, indeed.

"Can she smell us?" I whispered to Sticky, gripping the pistol I grabbed from the ground in between sweaty, shaking hands. We were out of her sight, staying behind the counter, and we were being as quiet as possible, but you never know what kind of enhancements people get.

"No, but she might hear us," he replied with a low and irritated growl. I flinched at the tone. I didn't mean to be stupid.

With an inaudible sigh (I could tell because his shoulders slumped) he took one of his hands off of his own pilfered pistol and ruffled my short hair with it.

"Remember the shooting lessons we got from Jay?" he asked me, calm despite the chaos that was going on around us. I nodded, recalling the burly old man that ran the weapon dealership. He would always give Sticky and I a portion of his lunch (although he claimed he never knew why his wife packed him dextro food) and gave us free shooting lessons for our self-defense. He left the Citadel, going back to Earth after the geth decided to drop by for a visit.

I wondered if he had managed to survive the invasion. I hoped he did. I liked him.

"This will just be like shooting the watermelon. We'll shoot it together on three. One...two..." Sticky didn't finish. We both leaned over the counter and shot at the same time. I closed my eyes as soon as I let the bullet fly loose.


I opened my eyes after passing through most of the smoke given off by the small fire I jumped over. I coughed at the strong scent handing in the air, a scent that would probably never wash out of my clothes. Well, if I ever got a chance to wash my clothes ever again.

"Where the hell are they coming from?" I heard the twanging voice from behind me. I was on my tenth heat sink, putting bullet after bullet into as many disfigured bodies as I could. Mostly, we were being swarmed by what looked like transformed batarians and humans. There were a few turians thrown in that mix, but we mainly tried to ignore them. It was me, Sticky, and a few others of the rapidly declining living population left on the Citadel. We all had the same goal.

Survive.

"I don't know! We just have to get to the docks! There will be a shuttle there!" I said back, running and shooting and shouting all at the same time. There had to be a shuttle. There was no way there couldn't be one. We did not survive two invasions within two years just to die in the third one.

There was no way. I didn't even let myself think of the possibility.

The corpses of every race littered the once empty and pristine hallway, now painted in the horrible muddy color that comes out when every color of the rainbow is mixed together. Red, yellow, blue, green...

The unmistakable stench of blood and death filled the air. I coughed, and the only thing that kept me from retching was the need to get away.

A young turian boy fell in front of me, and he didn't get back up. Other than Sticky, there was no other turians that could be linked to the kid in our small group. I didn't even think before scooping the small child up in my arms, after I realized that he was still breathing and more than likely exhausted. He couldn't have been more than five or six years old, and still small enough for me to carry him without too much difficulty.

I gritted my teeth and ran on, determined to make it to our destination. I wasn't going to leave anyone I didn't have to behind.

The small turian was sobbing and he stuck his head into the crook of my neck, his stubby fringe grazing my chin. I handed off my pistol to the woman who didn't have a weapon so that I could focus on keeping the kid safe, and I braced him against my body to try to negate the jarring that the running would have on him.

I heard a grunt, and two shots went past me. Sticky's larger than life form appeared beside me, his dark plates a contrast to the lighter ones of the smaller turian I held. He didn't say a word, but I had no doubt that he would protect all of us. I smiled shakily at him, summoning courage from the very pit of my scared soul.

We got through this twice before. We just have to do it again.

There were five others with us. Two salarians, a batarian, a krogan, and a hu-BANG!

Make that one salarian, a batarian, a krogan, and a human. That made four others.

I glanced around. We were getting close, and resistance was getting thinner. We were running into less Reaper forces as we went along.

And I thought the news vids were bad, the ones about Earth. It's so much worse in person.

I hate Reapers. And they hate me right back.

"It's stuck!" the salarian shouted from his place crouching by the jammed door.

"No shit," the krogan growled, pushing the salarian aside. He cracked his knuckles, rolled his head around, and charged the door, giving off a slight blue glow.

It worked.

With a massive sound, the metal ripped out of the wall. The kid whimpered at the sound, and I cooed at him to calm down despite the situation. We wasted no time getting through. My heart sunk at the sight.

There were no more shuttles available. No ships, no anything. I barely kept myself from collapsing on the ground.

"LOOK!" the human woman shrieked, pointing at the shuttle a few feet down and hovering slightly away from the docks. We wasted no time in trying to catch its attention, the growling and groaning of Reapers getting closer the longer we stayed on the Citadel.

They saw us, but didn't get any closer. They stayed where they were, hovering about five feet away from the edge of the docks. Two asari women, both a light shade of purple, were on either side of the back door and gesturing wildly for us to jump.

The krogan went first, than the batarian and the salarian. After the human woman went, it was our turn.

"Sticky, you go first!" I shouted, gesturing for him to go. He shook his head, pointing over his shoulder to the advancing husks that were no doubt being followed by the cannibals.

"I have a gun. You have a kid. You go first," he reasoned. I growled in response but couldn't refute his reasoning. I went first.

It was just like the time where I had to jump across the chasm, although I'm holding a child instead of a stuffed monkey and landing in a shuttle that will take me away from the only home I have ever known instead of jumping into a vent to save my skin from a couple of machines.

One one thousand, two one thousand, three... I landed on the shuttle, rolling so that I didn't squish the kid and I landed on my back. I glanced back out the back of the shuttle and gasped, not bothering to scramble off the floor that I landed on. If I did stand up, the combination of shaking knees and a jarring shuttle ride would send me right back on the floor.

Sticky was being swarmed by husks. One after another he would wrestle them off, just for another to take his place. They didn't give him the chance to shoot his pistol.

There was a cannibal coming up behind him.

"STICKY, LOOK OUT!" I shouted, praying that he could hear me.

He didn't.

After the last husk was dispatched, the cannibal opened up his mouth wide, screamed a horrible, discordant sound, and bit my best friend.

Correction. He bit my best friend's arm off.

I was bracing the kid against my shoulder, keeping him from seeing the horrible image. There was nothing but blue where there used to be a perfectly formed turian arm. Thick tears that mirrored my own, cried in pain instead of horror, were streaming down Sticky's face. Before he turned around to face the cannibal, he used his good arm to wave us off.

One of the asari women braced her arm on me to hold me back as the other closed the door. I was shaking, shrieking in my head for them to go back and get my best friend goddammit-

But in reality I did nothing. I sat there on the ground, immobile. Frozen.

"Harvester incoming!"

On the monitor, a large fireball was hurtling towards the side of the shuttle. The pilot tried his best to evade it, but simply wasn't fast enough. I didn't know what being hit like a train felt like-physically, at least. Watching your best friend get his arm bit off before a likely death is definitely heart-stopping.

Anyway, I would say that getting a direct hit from a Harvester's gun is about ten times worse.

The giant ball of fire hit us and tore the back of our shuttle off. The only thing I could do was to brace the kid in what could be his last hug, the soft plates of the young turian digging grooves into my skin, and close my eyes. I was waiting for the inevitable.

All I could feel was heat and my eardrums were throbbing and it was getting harder to breathe-

My entire world exploded around me.

A/N: Well, I managed to write this. This is going to be a short series, no longer than a couple of chapters. It's just that this little plot has bugged me and if I finish it, not only will I have another (small) fanfiction under my belt but I will hopefully become a better writer. Even if I improve by a tiny fraction, I'll be happy. I have so much more to learn about writing.

Anyway, this is going to focus on a duct rat that will adopt Shepard, eventually (probably in the next chapter, but I don't know.) It's just a little 'after the war' story, and I'm not expecting too many readers. The ones I do get, though, I will love forever. Especially if you review.

Please review ;)

And please tell me about any mistakes I made or ways I could improve the story. After all, I'm writing for the readers, and the more you enjoy the happier I am.

~Avai