Mass Effect: Dark Saga Chapter 1, a mass effect fanfic

MASS EFFECT: DARK SAGA

*Chapter One: Dust and Tears*

The wind was strong that day. It dragged across the barren earth, carrying with it great eddies of dust that swirled into the air, becoming dark smudges against a murky yellow sky.

Brown hills rose in the distance like broken teeth, jealously guarding the horizon from the colonist's sight as he squinted down at the valley beyond. The man's short, straw-coloured hair fluttered in the stiff breeze and he kept his lips firmly closed. The air was filled with fine grit that would find its way into his mouth if he let it.

The wind was always blowing on that desolate world but it was a small hardship in exchange for the natural wealth it offered. From the hill, the colonist could make out a few silvery lines of palladium ore winding through the lowlands like pale rivers and he knew there would also be deposits of cobalt nearby. The planet was untapped and he was certain that within a few years, a colony would flourish.

The man's leathery, sun-dried face creased into a smile at the thought. It was all a colonist could ask for; a safe, prosperous future for his family.

He looked over his shoulder to where his son was busy unpacking their shuttle. The boy was tall for sixteen, with the same head of fair hair as his father and he looked up with eyes the colour of Earth's skies.

'It's all there, dad,' he said, nodding to the pile of crates he had just unloaded. His young face was already lined after months of squinting against the dust and sun, and his voice was deep for his age.

His father looked at him affectionately. 'That's good. I don't think we'll find a better spot before nightfall. Here, hand me a beacon.'

The boy opened a nearby box and picked out a slender metal rod, the end of which held a yellow light and tossed it to his father, who caught it neatly before planting it into the ground. Immediately the rod let out a low hum, the vibrations sending a cascade of loose soil trickling down the slope.

'You want me to set the shelter up here?' the boy asked, 'The wind's pretty strong on this side of the hill. We'd be better off on the north face.'

The colonist grinned to himself. It took a strong will to forge a living on the frontiers and his son was as tough and sharp as they came. He would be a fine man one day.

'Maybe you're right. See to it while I set up the seismic sensors.' After a moment's indecision, the colonist held up a dirty hand. 'Actually, before you go, I want to show you something.'

He crossed over to where his son stood and hefted a small case up onto the hood of the shuttle. It was thin and as long as his arm, and the boy's eyes lit up with enthusiasm at the sight of an old Mantis sniper rifle. The weapon came alive in his father's hands, mechanically sprouting a long, black barrel and a scope that caught the sun with a bright glint.

'Out here,' he said, looking down at the rifle that had followed him out of the Alliance Marines, 'a man has to learn to defend what he loves. You can practice whenever you want at home but make sure you let me know first. And don't tell your sister, you know she'll only get jealous.'

The boy could only grin as he took the rifle from his father's hands. He spoke hesitantly, unable to find the right words, 'Okay, Dad. I promise.'

His father finally shed his stern mask and beamed at his only boy. 'You're a Shepard, son, in name and deed. We always keep those we care about safe, no matter what.'

The young Shepard gazed at the rifle with reverence. He whispered and the sound was lost to the wind before his father could hear.

'A Shepard…'

~~ME-DS~~

'Shepard!'

Lieutenant Shepard blinked awake. Confusion painted his lean features for a moment before he composed himself, the taste of bitter alien dirt in his mouth fading fast. The wind was still there though, roaring in his ears with a force that made his head throb.

'Shepard!' the voice shouted again, straining to be heard.

Again, Shepard screwed his eyes shut to banish the fog from his thoughts. He turned his head, taking in the shuttle interior without expression.

It was almost pitch-black in there and only the dull glow of the sky outside the open door highlighted his fellow lieutenant, Mason, as he stood hunched, wedged in the frame to brace himself against the raging winds.

'Quite a view, huh? You think they'll let us stop and take pictures?'

Shepard wanted to smile at the remark but between the sleepy haze that still covered his mind and the pressing anxiety over the mission to come, he could manage only a stiff nod.

Mason grinned, his teeth a white flash against dark skin and an even darker suit of Onyx armour. The grey ceramic plating had been layered with a fibrous mesh to prevent shine, rendering him a dense shadow before a lurid red backdrop.

'You should come see this, man,' Mason said, turning back to the sky, 'It's beautiful. Just beautiful.'

Though the nerves that always came with impending combat were like rough hands on Shepard's shoulders, pushing him down, curiosity brought him reluctantly to his feet. He needed to get up, get moving and he staggered slightly with the roll of the shuttle as he made his way to the door.

His own armour scraped as he pressed into the gap and immediately, ice-cold gales tore at Shepard's face. They ruffled his dark blonde hair and made his eyes narrow until they little more than glinting slivers, staring out at the scene before him.

Torfan was a rock; a lifeless, jagged landscape of blackened peaks and plateaus above which sat a thin but turbulent atmosphere of oxygen-rich air, thick with the smell of ash. Watching over it all was the moon's parent planet, a giant ball of churning red and orange. It sat above them all, presiding over the unfolding violence like a judge, waiting to proclaim a winner. Shepard wished he'd learnt its name.

The beauty Mason mentioned lay in the streams of anti-ship fire that cut through the dark skies, arching in glowing lines toward ships hidden by the blackness of space.

Mason stood transfixed by the display and Shepard's eyes flickered to him briefly before falling to the moon's surface again. Somewhere below, hidden in the tendrils of shadow, a pirate base lay like a spider within its web.

The Alliance had finally tracked the perpetrators of the Elysium attack, the largest and most audacious attack ever on a human colony, to this place and would fall upon them with all its might. Shepard's grip on the door frame tightened in satisfaction at the thought of almost a hundred Alliance warships high above, waiting to enter the fray. Though he could not see them, he felt a brimming excitement at the force of arms they would bring down once the operation had begun in earnest.

The shuttle's pilot spoke concisely over Shepard's suit radio, barely heard over the roar of the wind, 'Two minutes. High winds out there, so be careful disembarking.'

Shepard turned to face his team. Aside from Mason, lieutenants Webber and Tajima occupied the other side of the shuttle and they straightened in their seats as they sensed their squad leader's eyes upon them.

Giving them a brief nod of acknowledgement, Shepard raised a hand to his ear and patched his comms through to their commanding officer. 'Major, we're almost at the LZ.'

Major Kyle answered immediately, his strong voice coming in cleanly, 'Copy that, Shepard. We're still about five minutes out. Hit that communications tower hard and intercept what you can. The software on your omni-tool will do the rest.'

Shepard nodded and a quick glance at his team showed they understood. 'Yes, Sir. What's the word on the invasion?'

'Thirty minutes. We should have plenty of time to stir up trouble and it looks like General Fairburn will need it. From where I'm standing it doesn't like the bombardment did a lot of damage.'

As he scanned the ground below, Shepard's lips twisted in irritation. He'd only seen a few surface buildings on the way in; pale, squat structures that only spoke of more deep under the moon's surface where Alliance shells could not reach them. The relentless bombardment over the course of the previous day had only served to alert the slavers to their presence.

Hiding his frustration, Shepard replied, 'I'll feel a lot better once we're ground side and we can get the job done right, Sir.'

Kyle chuckled. 'I hear that. Good luck, all of you. Once this is over, you'll all be wearing N7 badges on your uniforms. Be proud and come back legends.'

The line clicked and Mason grinned widely at Kyle's words, readying his helmet. 'This is it, Shepard, the big one, the big november-seven. You ready?'

Shepard looked out at the bright swathes of anti-ship fire, assessing the battlefield with a clinical eye and any fear he felt quickly grew muted and distant.

As members of the Alliance Corps of Infiltrators, every man and woman on his team had seen combat, both on the front lines and beyond. Like Shepard, some had worked undercover, penetrating enemy lines and uncovering the intelligence that had led the Alliance to Torfan in the first place. To a man, Infiltrators were almost always successful in their bids to become N7-ranked Special Forces, the most prestigious in the Alliance military and Shepard had been selected to lead the team over all others in this, their last test before earning their rank.

He looked at Mason stonily and the junior lieutenant held up his hands in mute apology before securing his helmet in place.

Shepard was always ready. It did not need to be asked.

~~ME-DS~~

General Douglas Fairburn's knuckles were white with frustration and he kept them balled into fists at his side, ruining the immaculate lines of his uniform. His lips were pale, pressed into a thin line by the same anger that made his green eyes glitter dangerously.

'Sir,' he growled, 'I must repeat my protests. We've already received confirmation the naval bombardment has failed. If we're going to take Torfan, we need to take immediate action!'

The slender eyebrows of Fleet Admiral Walsh arched skeptically, sharp and defined even across the holographic comms projector. He was younger than Fairburn, with tanned skin that had only just started to show the lines of age and he bore the arrogant manner of one who had achieved too much, too quickly.

His deeply-set brown eyes regarded Fairburn with quiet disdain. 'Your concerns are noted, General but ultimately unfounded. Reliable intel received from drone fly-bys puts the number of escapees well within acceptable bounds. And the physical effect of our bombardment was always going to be minimal but that is beside the point.' He smiled condescendingly. 'This is about showing anyone who might think of attacking our colonies what the Alliance is capable of, to send a message that we will bring all our might down on their heads without mercy.'

Fairburn let out a long, angry breath. 'Without men on the ground, Sir, all we're showing them is that we're too busy sitting on our asses while they slip through our fingers!'

'This immediate action of yours,' Walsh sneered, 'will do nothing more than endanger lives. It's reckless, irresponsible and I won't allow it. The drones-'

Fairburn's nostrils flared as he lost patience. 'Those drones of yours have a blind spot over two miles wide!' He gestured sharply to his right, where the bridge window of the dreadnought SSV Shasta overlooked Torfan's surface. 'We know the planet's radiation is actively interfering with their sensors and more importantly, the damn pirates know it too! An estimated thirty ships have made it through in the past hour alone. If you hold off on this invasion any longer, they'll all be gone when we arrive and then how will humanity look to the rest of the galaxy? How will our men look as they march into an empty fortress after all your showboating?'

The admiral did not answer immediately, offering only a brief smile. When the response finally came, the snide tone brought furious colour to Fairburn's features.

'I think I understand, General. You're chasing after glory, aren't you?' He held up a hand, as if to preempt a question Fairburn had no intention of asking. 'I read the file. You had a good run in the First Contact War, I'll give you that but when Elysium came around the Fourth Fleet was nowhere to be found and the Second was given the task of aiding the colony.'

'That has nothing to do with it!' Fairburn spat through clenched teeth.

'You missed your big chance,' Walsh continued, 'and men like you aren't content to let things be. So, is that what all this fuss is about? Why you're so keen on getting boots on the ground? Are you just itching for one last shot at getting in on the action and adding your name to the board at High Command?'

Fairburn glared at him, his chest heaving with barely restrained anger. Admiral Walsh had only been appointed commander of the Fourth Fleet a year before. He had not seen the Blitz as Fairburn had, nor suffered the indignity of watching Alliance forces arrive too late to save many of the colonists. Fairburn knew he could have done better were his fleet the ones chosen, and the last thing he would tolerate was a snot-nosed greenhorn like Walsh telling him his business.

'I think we're done here, Admiral,' he snapped and with a brief gesture, he ordered the communications crew to cut the transmission.

The Shasta's CIC hummed with activity as every serviceman and woman busied themselves with some task or other. It was the industrious, nervous bustle of a ship at war and the only place Fairburn desired to be more was down on Torfan's surface, directing the battle.

'I've had enough of this,' he muttered, turning to his adjutant, 'Send out a flash-priority signal to all battalion commanders. I want boots on the ground in less than an hour, before the situation gets any worse. It's time to get this done right.'

~~ME-DS~~

The ground trembled beneath Major Kyle's body with frightening urgency. He lay in the dust and darkness, awaiting the approaching slaver convoy in the lee of a hill, untouched by the light of the planet and distant sun. The other three members of his squad were elsewhere in the perfect shadow, all but invisible save for the tiny red lights on their weapons, and those would be all but undetectable at a distance.

Though he could not see them, Kyle felt their presence as a cold chill on his spine, frightening and yet supremely satisfying. They were his killers, and they would make sport of the slavers trundling along the supply road.

The enemy was visible now; three heavy goods trucks with a light armour escort in the rear. The tank was small and squat, with a low turret atop a chassis that creaked and groaned over the rough earth.

Against an exposed infantry platoon it would cause casualties but from their ambush position, Kyle's squad would make light work of it. The major waited patiently until the trucks had drawn level before thumbing the marker light on his wrist.

A whoosh cut through the air and the tank lifted from its wheels in a roar of orange flame before crashing upside-down upon its turret. The blackened hunk of metal exploded as all around, the night flared into violence. Blue tracers sliced through the sky, joining the red planet and stars in a display of deadly beauty.

Kyle opened fire and his Lancer assault rifle churned out smooth volleys that hammered into the sides of the trucks. Two of his team joined in, immediately focusing on several flailing figures that tumbled from the vehicles. Some of the slavers tried to fire blindly from their windows but the rounds disappeared harmlessly into the inky shadow around Kyle.

Somewhere to his left came the deep, booming thump of a sniper rifle and one by one, the answering streams were cut off as the truck windows exploded in showers of glittering metal and glass.

Within seconds, it was over.

Kyle tried to steady his breathing and ran a hand over his dark, sweating skin before forcing himself to his feet. The tank was nothing more than a burning husk at the rear of the convoy and the trucks were filled with tiny holes, their wheels surrounded by splayed bodies clad in blood-soaked armour. The sour stench of oil joined the smoke, making Kyle's eyes water.

His team fell in behind him as he looked to the ground, where a slaver grasped feebly at the dirt, trying to pull himself across the ground. He groaned with effort and even at a distance, Kyle could tell he didn't have long to live.

Drawing his pistol, Kyle strode up to the wounded pirate and pulled the trigger without hesitation, his face lighting up in a yellow flash before falling dark once again.

He turned to his men, his expression stern. 'Search the trucks for anything useful, then set the charges. We move in two mikes.'

The woman closest to him nodded sharply and they set to work as Kyle keyed his suit radio. 'Shepard, this is Kyle. Target Alpha is down. We're moving to-'

'Sir?'

Kyle frowned at the shout that came from behind the closest truck. His lips twisted irritably. 'Hold on a second.'

He quickly rounded the corner and stared at the soldier that had called him over. 'What is it, Lieutenant?'

'Sir, you'd better take a look at this,' the man answered, dipping his head toward the ground.

Kyle's frown deepened at the sight of a large shipping crate that had been hauled from the back of the truck. It was heavy, with a smooth white case and a complex keypad that glowed in the deep gloom. After only a moment, Kyle's breath stuck fast in his chest.

A shipping logo had been printed on the crate's side, a logo that had become more and more familiar to him over the past year. It was grim and distinctive, a black and angular fist motif that had flaked away in places.

'Batarian State Arms,' Kyle muttered under his breath, 'Shit. If the Batarian Hegemony has been supplying these pirates all this time…'

He trailed off, not wanting to say aloud what every man there feared.

The batarians had been jostling with the Alliance over territory for years and the alien nation had all but retreated into itself, cutting themselves off from the galactic community in their bitterness. Though the batarians had not yet openly declared war on humanity, it was assumed only the strong Alliance fleets kept that particular desire in check.

Kyle looked to the planet above, lost in indecision for a moment. The giant red orb glared down at them balefully, the colour of blood and war. It was an ill omen.

He raised a hand to his ear again. 'Shepard, we have a problem.'

~~ME-DS~~

The communications tower loomed tall overhead. It was an ugly thing, a stark, bare tree of grey metal and plastic. Blinking red lights paced up and down its length and Shepard could almost hear a thin warbling coming from it, a noise that scratched at his brain and made his teeth ache.

The first two pirates were not far away. Shepard realised their backs were turned and he increased his pace, eager to take advantage and ensure a clean kill. At twenty paces, he raised his pistol and fired.

The Kessler rattled in his hands, the reports sharp, perforating the air with several piercing bangs. The first slaver shook as his armour shattered at the back and dropped to the ground a moment later, dark blood oozing from the holes. His companion barely had time to turn around before another salvo hammered into his helmet, killing him instantly.

Shepard ignored Mason as the lieutenant rushed past, intent on checking the bodies. Too many times had they heard of a supposed 'dead' hostile returning to life to put a slug into his killer, medigel carrying them through agony to land the killing shot.

Mason hefted his Lancer rifle easily and picked out a man at the base of the tower. A streak of faded blue reached across his vision, snatching up the scrambling figure and Mason swore inwardly. If he did not hurry, Tajima would claim them all.

Another pair emerged from behind the tower's base and Mason dropped to a knee, taking one of the slavers high in the chest. A heartbeat later, Tajima fired again, killing the final one in a spray of ceramic fragments and gore.

Shepard flowed past Mason, his pistol outstretched as he approached. He offered a cursory glance at the still bodies ahead and pressed on, his breathing growing heavy. Beyond the dark corner of the tower, something moved and Shepard exhaled in relief as Webber jogged out of the shadow.

'Two down,' she stated formally.

Shepard nodded and addressed them all over the radio. 'That's seven for seven. Good job, people. Tajima, keep a look out to the north. If they send someone to investigate before we're done we'll need to lay on a special welcome.'

'Copy that, Shepard. I am oscar-mike to new over watch position.'

Panting lightly, Shepard strode back out to the front and looked on with quiet approval as Mason opened a link to the tower with his omni-tool. The device blossomed on his arm in bright shades of yellow and orange, and shifted in blocky patterns as it worked to upload the surveillance software into the pirates' network. The software was highly advanced, even for Alliance, having been provided at great cost by the salarians.

The thought of the long-limbed amphibians brought strong memories to Shepard of long nights of wet jungle heat. He had been on a few reconnaissance exercises with their alien allies and had found them to be worthy of admiration, their skill at arms surpassed only by their quick wits and enviable intellect.

Major Kyle's voice came in over Shepard's radio, interrupting his thoughts. 'Shepard, this is Kyle. Target Alpha is down. We're moving to-'

Shepard frowned as he heard Kyle mutter, then return with concern in his voice moments later. 'Shepard, we've got a problem. We're seeing a lot of batarian weapons and gear in this convoy. Far too much to be stolen.'

A subtle tension came over Shepard as memories flooded through him, of dust and tears, of an old rifle that trembled in his hands.

'Batarians,' he growled. 'Do you think the Hegemony has been arming these guys all along?'

'It's possible. In fact, it's more than likely given the tensions between our people and theirs.'

Shepard snorted. 'Typical. They can't win conventionally, so they resort to state-sponsored insurgency and terrorism.'

'It's still too early to jump to rash conclusions,' Kyle reminded him, 'but the evidence doesn't look good. More importantly, Alliance Command planned this operation around the assumption that the pirates would be packing the same kind of heat as Elysium.'

Shepard picked up on the train of thought and his pale eyes turned out to the sky beyond the rocky horizon. 'And they're going to come in hard, expecting an easy fight. If the batarians have been supplying the slavers then…'

His words petered out as he watched the distant skies. He could see the invasion force now as a cloud of glittering specks, a dense swarm of landing shuttles entering the moon's atmosphere.

'Send out a warning,' Shepard said as he paced suddenly on the spot, his growing anxiety telling with every step. 'Get the word out to General Fairburn, tell him the slavers are ready for us!'

It was too late. Shepard looked up sharply as before his eyes, the jagged lines of Torfan came to life.

Gun turrets, each a bulky, disproportionate mass of weaponry, emerged from the ground all along the ridges of the landscape. Some had been deliberately covered by rocks and debris, and only a hundred paces from Shepard one rose up out of a hillside, its gears whining with dust and sediment. The gun gleaming menacingly in the dim light before turning slowly to the invasion force.

'Oh God,' Kyle whispered over the radio.

The guns opened fire as one, filling the night with crashes of thunder. Light speckled the horizon as dozens of slugs were launched and smoke swelled from the turrets' bases as missiles were launched in a deadly barrage towards the landing force.

Shepard felt helpless and his body burned with the need to get moving, to do something as the first of the shuttles were consumed by the fire. The landing force became speckled with white flashes and many fell from the mass, burning bright lines to the ground below.

Mason broke away from his hacking to stand alongside Shepard in horrified awe.

'I don't believe it,' he murmured. 'What do we do now? Do we go and help?'

Shepard pursed his lips before shaking his head. 'We have to stick to the mission, no matter what.'

Mason was visibly shaken despite his best efforts to hide it and he gestured towards the shuttles. 'A lot of marines are dying out there, Shep. Does it feel right to you? To just sit here?'

Shepard set his jaw as he brought his feelings under control. 'It doesn't matter how we feel, Mason. We know these bastards have access to high-end equipment now and that means it's even more important we learn what we can before we act. Let the marines do their job. We'll help them by doing ours.'

Reluctantly, Mason nodded once before turning back to the tower. Shepard watched him for a moment before looking out on the unfolding chaos once again, his face illuminated starkly with the fire that had engulfed the sky.

~~ME-DS~~

The communications tower loomed tall overhead. It was an ugly thing, a stark, leafless tree of grey metal and plastic. Blinking red lights paced up and down its length and Shepard could almost hear a thin warbling coming from it, a noise that scratched at his brain and made his teeth tingle.

The Predator rattled in his hands, the reports sharp as they perforated the air with piercing bangs. The first slaver shook as the back of his armour shattered and he dropped to the ground a moment later, dark blood oozing from the holes. His companion barely had time to turn around before another salvo hammered into his helmet, killing him instantly.

Shepard ignored Mason as the lieutenant stopped to check the bodies. Too many times had they heard of a supposed 'dead' hostile returning to life to put a slug into his killer, medigel carrying them through agony to land the final shot. It always paid to be careful.

Tensing, Shepard picked out a man at the base of the tower. A streak of faded blue reached across his vision, snatching up the scrambling figure and he heard Mason hiss a curse. If they did not hurry, the squad sniper Tajima would claim them all.

Another pair of pirates emerged and Mason dropped to a knee, taking the nearest one high in the chest. A heartbeat later, Tajima fired again, killing the final one in a spray of ceramic fragments and gore.

Shepard registered with only the slightest thought as he approached the tower's base, his pistol outstretched. Beyond the darkest corner, something moved and Shepard exhaled in relief as Webber jogged out of the shadows.

'Two down,' she stated formally.

'Copy that, Shepard. I am oscar-mike to new over watch position.'

The software was highly advanced, even for Alliance, having been provided at great cost by the salarians. The thought of the long-limbed amphibians brought strong memories to Shepard of long nights spent in wet jungle heat. He had been on a few reconnaissance exercises with their alien allies and had found them to be worthy of admiration, their skill at arms surpassed only by their quick wits and enviable intellect.

Major Kyle's voice came in over Shepard's radio, interrupting his thoughts, 'Shepard, this is Kyle. Target Alpha is down. We're moving to-'

Shepard frowned as he heard Kyle mutter, then return moments later with concern in his voice, 'Shepard, we've got a problem. We're seeing a lot of Batarian Arms weaponry and gear in this convoy. Far too much to be stolen.'

A subtle tension came over Shepard as memories flooded through him, memories of dust and tears, and of an old Mantis rifle that trembled in his hands.

'Batarians,' he spat, shaking his head, 'Do you think the Hegemony has been arming these guys all along?'

'It's possible. In fact, it's more than likely given the tensions between our people and theirs.'

Shepard snorted. 'Typical. They can't win conventionally so they resort to state-sponsored insurgency and terrorism.'

'It's still too early to jump to conclusions,' Kyle reminded him, 'but the evidence doesn't look good. More importantly, Alliance Command planned this operation around the assumption that the pirates would be packing the same kind of heat as Elysium - or lack thereof.'

Shepard picked up on the train of thought and his pale eyes turned out to the sky beyond the rocky horizon. 'And the Marines are going to come in hard, expecting an easy fight. If the batarians have been supplying the slavers then…'

His words petered out as he watched the distant skies. He could see the invasion force now as a cloud of glittering specks, a dense swarm of landing shuttles entering the moon's atmosphere.

'Send out a warning,' Shepard barked as he paced suddenly on the spot, his growing anxiety telling with every step, 'Get the word out to General Fairburn, tell him the slavers are ready for him!'

It was too late. Shepard looked up sharply as before his eyes, the jagged lines of Torfan came to life.

Gun turrets, each a bulky, disproportionate mass of weaponry, emerged from the ground all along the ridges of the landscape. Some had been deliberately covered by rocks and debris, and only a hundred paces from Shepard, one rose up out of a hillside, its gears whining with dust and sediment.

The gun gleaming menacingly in the dim light before turning slowly to the invasion force.

'Oh God,' Kyle whispered over the radio.

The guns opened fire as one, filling the night with crashes of thunder. Light speckled the horizon as dozens of rounds were fired and smoke welled as missiles were launched in a deadly barrage towards the landing force.

Shepard felt helpless and his body burned with the need to get moving, to do something as the first of the shuttles were consumed by the fire. The landing force became dotted with white flashes and many fell from the mass, streaming bright fire all the way to the ground.

Mason broke away from his hacking to stand alongside Shepard. 'I don't believe it,' he murmured in horrified awe, 'What do we do now? Do we go and help?'

Shepard pursed his lips and shook his head. 'We can't. We have to stick to the mission, no matter what.'

Mason looked visibly shaken, despite his best efforts to hide it and he gestured toward the shuttles. 'A lot of Marines are dying out there, Shep. Does it feel right to you? To just sit here?'

Shepard set his jaw as he brought his feelings under control. 'It doesn't matter how we feel, Mason. We know these bastards have access to high-end equipment now and that means it's even more important we learn what we can before we act. Let the Marines do their job. The best way we can help them is by doing ours.'

~~ME-DS~~

Fairburn closed his eyes against another nearby explosion, this one close enough to rock his shuttle, making it sway in the air.

The thick formation of the landing craft had provided the pirates with a mass of easy targets and Fairburn still felt the hollow sickness in his stomach from when he first caught sight of the gun batteries rising like deadly spectres from the distant hills.

He watched a stricken shuttle labour on for a few seconds before plunging to the dark ground below in a trail of silky, golden flame. He tasted noxious fumes on the wind moments later and he bared his teeth in outright anger.

Intel had said nothing of this. The slavers should have had only the most basic of anti-aircraft weaponry. The line of turrets facing them was far more advanced than anything the scum should have had access to.

Fire swallowed another shuttle and Fairburn immediately came to a decision.

'There!' he shouted to the man next to him as he pointed towards a black circle of shadow almost directly below them, 'Set us down in that crater. There should be enough relief to provide cover from those guns until I figure a way out of this mess.'

The soldier clasped a hand to his ear and relayed the orders to the pilot. Fairburn's stomach heaved as seconds later, the shuttle dove sharply to seek shelter in the wide crater. The rest of the landing force moved as one, following him down until the entire fleet was wreathed in darkness, broken only by the sharp flares of landing thrusters.

Barely had his craft touched down before Fairburn was out and strolling across the dusty land, his head craning as he feverishly looked over his new position for advantages or glaring weaknesses. His mind turned over defensive locations, supply routes, assault paths, all small puzzles that he worked to solve under the constant storm of fire.

'Get all local assets on the horn,' he snapped into his suit radio, 'I'm commandeering all available units to salvage this situation before it gets any worse.'

'Yes, Sir,' came the reply, 'We have two Infiltrator teams in the area led by a Major Kyle.'

'Kyle,' Fairburn repeated to himself. He remembered the man from one of the many briefings that had preceded the operation. Dark-skinned, lean and with the quiet confidence that typified Special Forces officers.

Fairburn nodded. 'Patch him through.'

~~ME-DS~~

Shepard saw Mason's eyes grow wide and knew the news couldn't have been good. The lieutenant had been listening to intercepted pirate communications, leaving the others to pace about in constant worry of what would become of the Marine landing force. The fear only intensified as Mason glanced at Shepard.

'You're 'gonna want to hear this,' he said.

Releasing a nervous breath, Shepard used his omni-tool to link his suit radio with Mason's. Instantly, a wash of fizzy static entered his ears before fading into a deep, throaty voice that snarled with vicious malice. It was batarian, of that Shepard had no doubt.

'Perimeter defences are online now but that won't hold them forever. Make sure bunkers one through seventeen are fully stocked. We only need a few hours to load up the heavy transports. Even should the Alliance break through, we have that little insurance policy.'

Shepard furrowed his brow and looked at Mason, whose features echoed his own confusion.

'The slaves have been packed into the cargo holds,' another voice growled, 'Fifty males, thirty females and twenty-seven children. The Alliance should think twice about shooting us down when they hear we have their precious citizens in the bellies of our ships.'

The first batarian laughed. 'And if their pathetic soldiers get too close, we'll threaten to kill 'em all. I hate to waste a profit but if it's a choice between our lives and theirs, it's no choice at all.'

Breathing heavily, Shepard closed down the connection. He stared at Mason, his thoughts moving too quickly to grasp. 'They're holding civilians in their transports,' he said quietly, 'Families.'

'We should've seen it coming,' Mason replied, scratching his head, 'We should get the word out fast, warn the fleet.'

Shepard did not need to be told. He immediately raised Kyle on his radio. 'Major, it's Shepard. We have a situation.'

'Shepard, we need to maintain radio silence. This had better be important.'

'It's important, Sir,' Shepard responded, eyeing Mason for a moment before continuing, 'We've just intercepted a transmission from what we believe to be the slaver command. They spoke of hostages, slaves numbering over a hundred in total - men, women and children. Sir, the slavers are planning to fly them out in heavy transports, using them as human shields.'

The line fell silent for a moment as Kyle digested the news. 'I see. That makes things difficult.'

'What do you mean, Sir?'

'Shepard, I've just received a priority message from General Fairburn, head of ground forces for this operation. He wants these gun batteries disposed of before they inflict any more casualties on his men.'

Shepard let out an impatient breath through his nose. 'Sir, my team can infiltrate the slavers' main complex. We know the hostages are being held in the main hangars, in the cargo transports. If we-'

'Shepard, this isn't up for discussion,' Kyle interrupted, 'I don't like it any more than you do but we have our orders. Right now we need to make a hole in the slavers' defences big enough for Fairburn to move his troops through. When those guns are down, then we can think about rescuing those people.'

The words sat like bitter acid in Shepard's stomach. He stared blankly at the ground and it took a prompt from Kyle to bring him to his senses.

'Lieutenant, is that clear?'

Swallowing, Shepard finally replied, 'Yes, Sir. Send the co-ordinates of our target and we'll move right away.'

As the line disconnected, Mason looked at Shepard warily. 'You okay, Shep? Earlier you were all about putting the mission first but when the major mentioned leaving those people behind, you had the funniest look on your face. Something wrong?'

Shepard sniffed loudly, dropping a veil over his emotions as he had been taught to do many years ago. It was a skill that any Infiltrator had to learn and to Shepard it came easier than most.

'It's nothing. Come on, we have to get going.'

Shrugging, Mason lifted his rifle and followed his team leader out into the darkness. All around them the night rattled with the sounds of war, and beneath the great red planet in the sky, the land shimmered with explosions.

The battle for Torfan had begun in earnest, though as he strode on, Shepard's only thoughts were of tear stained cheeks and panic-stricken eyes.