Timeline: 2170 and 2183
Summary: Friendships can start in the strangest of ways- in the middle of a firefight or surrounded by tragedy. A young Lieutenant Anderson meets an even younger survivor from the Mindoir slaver raid. Their friendship begins with bullets and fire, but it'll see them through so much more.
Trivia: Damnaigh sé and mac a soith are Gaelic for "damn it" and "son of a bitch" respectively.
Disclaimer: All names, dates, places, etc are property of BioWare and EA Games. The only thing of mine was the idea for this piece and no copyright infringement was intended
The wind howled like an angry wounded creature, as it rattled the burned structures in the settlement. He grimaced as he noted the scorched marks against the pre-fab sheeting. The shadow was practically fused to the surface. Sloppy work, sloppy indeed, and on a human colony it could lead to only one conclusion… slavers, and most likely batarians at that. He could see blood congealing in gruesome looking pools, yet no bodies. A second look confirmed it, drag marks. Someone had hauled the bodies away. Most likely the wounded were taken onto the ships, otherwise why waste the energy to drag off a corpse?
"Report."
"Scans aren't picking up much," Richards answered quickly. "Wait. There might be something, can't tell, it could just an animal scavenging."
"We'd better check it out," he said, motioning the squad forward.
"Sir, twenty meters to our right and closing."
"Got it, but until we know what it is, shoot to subdue, not kill."
"Yes sir," the three men said in unison.
They made their way cautiously, flash light beams bouncing around over the debris-riddled streets. The faint sound of scraping could be heard over the wind. He raised his fist, and the three stopped in unison with him.
Through the scope on his rifle he watched. Someone clambered up from a hole in the ground. Hidden by the shadows, it was difficult to tell species, gender or age. Whoever it was must've been hurt badly, if the staggering and shuffling was any indication. The person finally managed to make it over to another of the corpses that lay scattered. There was a grunt as the deceased's legs were lifted wheel-barrow style and the unknown person began dragging the body away.
Maybe they made some sound to betray their presence, maybe whoever was out there just had incredibly good intuition, but suddenly the mystery person spun and dropped to their knee. A gun materialized in their hand and a few shots pinged the surfaces around them. Whoever was shooting was a piss-poor shot that much was certain.
"This is Lieutenant Anderson, Alliance Marines," he shouted. "Drop your weapon, immediately."
"I didn't believe it from the last mac a soith and I don't believe it from you," a young voice snarled at them.
"We're not here to hurt you son," he tried again as he nodded to two of his squad mates to prepare to circle around.
"Too bad, because I'll hurt you," was the reply.
He'd guess whoever was out there was young, probably a teenager and unfortunately a survivor of this horror. Though how they'd escaped the batarians notice was a question he'd love to get answered. Johnson and Sweeny were hopefully closing in on this survivor, if he could just keep him distracted for a bit longer.
"Lay down your weapon and we can get you to safety," he tried again as he peeked around the burned out shell of a vehicle.
The teen was silhouetted in shadow, gun aimed at his position. By the stance it was easy to see they hadn't received any weapons training, except what they'd picked up in the fight for their life. Apparently this one had all but gone feral.
"I know you're scared," he said. "I know you're exhausted, but we're not your enemy, son," he stood and made a show of holstering his weapon.
At that moment Sweeny pounced and grabbed the teen around the middle, pinning their arms.
"Damnaigh sé!"
The scream sounded almost female in its shrillness.
Anderson felt his jaw drop as the wicked blue fire lit up the shadow like a flare. It was a girl Sweeny had pinned. Her clothes were in tatters and she only had one shoe. There was a pistol in her hand, but it appeared useless as the blue corona burst out of her and engulfed both her and Sweeny.
"Shit!" the man screamed and dropped the girl as though she'd stuck him with a knife. She dropped to her knees, her biotics still aflame. She was screaming in rage and terror as she flailed helplessly. Anderson raced up to her, tore off his flak vest and tossed it over her. He held her shoulders down as she raged and cursed at him.
"Richards get a light over here," he called as the girls struggling ceased. She must not be accustomed to her biotics and hadn't learned how to counter their exhausting toll; at least it was a lucky stroke for them.
"Johnson, check on Sweeny," he said as he examined the girl briefly.
She was a teenager, certainly no older than seventeen. He'd guess red hair, but it was so full of matted blood and dirt that he couldn't be certain. He pulled back an eye lid and watched the pupil contract. Alive yes, and probably would be furious when she regained her energy. She'd need to get her biotics under control if she had any hope of a normal life.
"How's Sweeny?" he asked as he checked her for any burns or broken bones.
"A little scalded, but he'll live," Johnson said.
"Good, let's get her back to the ship," Anderson said as he hefted the girl in his arms.
"You think that's a good idea, sir?" Richards asked uncertainly.
He glared at the young man. "Move out," was all he said.
X~X
He'd been right about their young friend's temperament upon re-awakening. She thrashed and railed and had re-exhausted herself by unleashing her biotics once more. He was sitting beside her in the med-bay when she woke up again.
"Before you fly off the rails again, there are some questions we need answered," he said quickly.
She watched him through suspicious eyes.
"This is the SSV Dakota. You're being taken to Arcturus Station where the Alliance can contact your next of kin," he said.
The girl just stared at him for a very long time, as though she were trying to decide if he was lying.
"What if I don't have any?" she asked. When she wasn't screaming it was easy to hear her Mindoir accent.
"Don't you have family back on Earth?" he asked.
She looked away. "I don't know."
"What's your name?" he finally asked. He wasn't sure why he was taking such a special interest in her. This was something that could be handled by an Alliance Social Welfare aide once they got to Arcturus. Maybe it was her stubborn refusal to give up, maybe it was sympathy at what he guessed was a harrowing ordeal, or maybe he just felt guilty they hadn't been able to prevent the tragedy in the first place. Whatever the reason, he'd told Captain Langstrom he'd debrief the girl, so here he was.
"Shepard," she finally said.
"Shepard what?"
"Just Shepard," she said. "I'm the only one left, it's not like I'll be confused with any of the others."
"What can you tell me about what happened?"
She turned her face to the wall and said nothing.
"Your biotics saved you, didn't they?" he asked.
"Or maybe they didn't," she whispered.
Perhaps she had a point. Even if she'd escaped the slavers clutches, she'd carry the wounds of that attack with her forever.
"Just one more thing," he said. "Those drag marks we found, that was you? Were you burying people all that time?"
Her fingers twitched and he could see where several of her nails had been torn out completely. Apparently she had been grave digging, with her own hands no less.
"The dead deserve peace," she said at last.
He watched her for a long moment before nodding. He wondered who had taught her such a true sentiment.
"Yes, yes they do," he said as he stood and turned to leave.
"Not everyone from the colony was taken. Once you're cleared by the Alliance you could always go back."
She looked at him and the amount of pain in her pale green eyes hurt things deep inside that he hadn't imaged could ever be hurt.
"Just a thought," he said before stepping through the med-bay doors and leaving her with her grief.
X~X
Initial testing on the new ship was done, and it was time to pick her crew. Most of the service men from the testing phase could be brought in, though in his opinion Xander had to go, period. The woman may be a dream when it came to operations running, but she was a nightmare with the crew. He was sick of her xenophobia. He may not be in love with Turians, but hell he couldn't stomach her irritation with them another second.
He glanced at his short list of names he wanted assigned to his ship. Adams, Chakwas and Pressley were all coming from the Tokyo, and were perfect for the new ship. They were experienced hands who would keep her running smoothly. He'd also managed to snag Moreau for a pilot, practically a coup. And there was that young biotic Alenko. All considered a rather impressive crew. He just needed an XO now. He wanted to say he'd considered a few names, but honestly he knew exactly who he wanted from the moment he'd been given command of the Normandy.
He'd kept an eye on Shepard ever since he heard she'd enlisted. He knew she'd be a hell of a solider. Anyone strong enough to survive a Batarian slaver raid would be a force to reckon with, biotics or no. When he'd heard about Akuze he'd seriously been worried for the young woman. Surviving one nightmare encounter was enough to break most people, he wasn't sure she'd manage to survive two.
"We've gotta stop meeting like this," she had whispered from her hospital bed when he'd sat down. "People will talk."
He had laughed. Trust her to make a joke at such a time.
"How you holding up, Shepard?"
He knew it was a stupid question, but it was something you asked at such a moment.
"I keep living, and they keep dying." Her voice had barely been a whisper. "Just what I need, more ghosts following me."
Though she had grown up, her hand still felt tiny in his when he took hold of it.
"Then you'll have to do the living for them too," he said. They were words from her initial psych-eval upon enlisting.
She fixed one of her eyes on him, the other was still swollen shut. "You spying on me, Anderson?" she asked.
"Just making sure you're ok Shepard. The living deserve a bit of peace too."
"We're peaceful when we're dead," she had said. "And until then, the fight goes on, because we keep on living."
She was a survivor and a protector, most of all because of what she'd gone through. He knew there were eyes on her- powerful eyes. Very soon she'd likely be whisked away by those whose call he couldn't pull rank on. But before that, well call it sentimentality but he felt a father's pride when it came to her.
X~X
A few days later she strode aboard and saluted him smartly.
"Welcome aboard Commander," he said returning the gesture.
"Thank you sir," she said as they shook hands. "She's a hell of a ship."
He took a moment to look at her. Her hair was as red as ever, and she had a few new scars it were her eyes that made him nostalgic. Old eyes in such a young face, though he had seen it when it was younger.
"That she is," he finally said. "Stow your things and see me about operations," he said. "We've got a shakedown run in seventy-two hours."
"Aye sir," she said and saluted once more. "Thanks for the assignment."
"Good to have you on board Commander. Let's see what's out there, shall we?"
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