Chapter 1: The Saviour.
Dozens of thousands of years have passed since the Reapers attacked the galaxy, wiping out all sentient species in the galaxy; the old species all but forgotten and a new society have risen to replace them. An archeological team of one such species, the Trass, have uncovered something unusual. A working holo-recorder dating back to the times of Humans, Turians, Asari and Salarians. They found it beneath ruins on a planet that once settled a human colony, a planet the humans once called Shanxi. This was the greatest find since the Trass found the Mass Relays and the old Salarian and Turian data caches that aided in the development of ships that could travel using the Relays, to other star-systems, which eventually lead them to the Citadel, a giant space station that was supposedly developed by the combined efforts of the old species. The Trass are apprehensive about the find, it was remarkably well preserved for it's millenia of abandonment and degradation. Excitement is thick in the air; after all, this could shed some light on what caused all the sentient species to disappear almost over night, leaving behind incredibly little for a confederation that spanned the galaxy. Fast but quiet talking infests the air at the archeological site, as the party of twenty look around at the way these strange beings lived in their final days.
The room, barely large enough for a dozen people to live together was littered with the aging skeletons of some thirty survivors of a horrific set of circumstances. There were alcoves, each with a simple cot and bars where presumably curtains had once hung, although time had made short work of them. In an adjoining room was a table and several cupboards, metal containers and bins.
One of the Trass, a green-skinned male with bug-like eyes, a long tentacle-like fringe and long delicate fingers, kneeled beside one such corpse, sat in a chair near where the holo was, preliminary studies showed it to be that of either a human or an Asari although almost all the other races had representatives in the room, including some races that the team could not recognize. He looked at the skull of the corpse with interest, noting the trajectory of the bullet that took it's life. "Self inflicted." He said a loud, while one of his companions, a fine looking female reached forwards with her delicate hand and pressed play on the holo-recorder. The holo flickered and went dark for a second before reluctantly coming to life.
A hazy, incomplete image blipped onto the screen, although it was so degraded it was difficult to tell what species it was, let alone the gender. "... ...me is Tamora Niall, I'm a human, a survivor after the Reaper invasion. I 'ope this sur...es the test of time, and who-ev... ... are, ya listen. This is the story o' humans and our destruction. And the destruction o' all the spacefarin' species in the galaxy." The holo tried to assert itself, and in an effort to assist, the female re-calibrated the setting, soon the image cleared up and it was playing clearly.
The image was of a dirty dull-brown haired woman, her eyes had dark bags under them and the oceanic-blue orbs themselves looked listless and, oddly, almost bored. She stared back with no sense of urgency, more resignation, although the occasional tick of her eye told much about her state of mind. She began to speak again. "The firs' thing that I should say is, forget everything ya think ya know 'bout the cit'del. We all found it to, as did the Protheans afore us. I dunno 'ow many secies found it afore them, bu' our tech was based off'a it jus' like yers. The Cit'del and the Relays were made by a race o' sentient machines, the same machines that are wipin' us out now. The Reapers."
"Our story begins with one man, one that was s'posed t' save us all..." The image died for a moment before being replaced by a male of the same species, a large red and white N7 emblazoned of the breast of his black armour, he was a tall man with blonde hair, a hard lantern jaw, thin lips and harder icy-blue eyes. A faint scar ran along his cheek and across his upper lip. He was wiry, although it was evident in his stance, that he had a strength like steel cables and seemed ready to pounce into action at any moment. He seemed to looked on the aliens with baleful eyes that brokered no arguments. He was not a man to mess with, in any way. There was no hint of enjoyment in the man, he was a man that looked like he got the job done. Following this change, the woman's voice, Tamora Niall's voice, continued.
"Stefan Shepherd, born to a spacing family, his father, born on Earth in a place called Germany, was a pilot in the Human Systems Alliance and his mother, also born on Earth, was a captain, he was born on the Alliance vessel [...]. He was well known for his disregaurd for the safety of his team, whether they be military or civilian support, so long as his mission was complete. 'is squad-mates both feared and respected him in less than equal measures, and particularly feared being assigned to his command. He was the best in the military; his success rate only outstripped by the number of comrades that had died around him. He was absolute in his determination, ruthlessly pursuing his goal until it's completion or his death. Why am I telling you this? Well, I think ta understand our current situation, you should understand the man that caused our alien neighbours to abandon us, the man that set humans up as the rulers of the galaxy before they were ready to hold any place in power, the man who, by some sadistic miracle, was deemed ta be the best of us."
"I s'pose it was the 'appiest day of his parent's lives when they heard that their only son 'ad joined the Alliance, and later when he gained the rank of N7 marine, 'though they had long since stopped talking with him, or he with them, either way, any communications between the family 'ad become severely limited by 'is thirtith year, and by the time he joined the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the military arm of the council, Spectres as they're called, he and 'is parents hadn't spoken in over six years. It surpises me tha' one tha' seemed to be such an avid 'ater of all life, 'specially alien, was selected to represent human kind in their endevour to join the Spectres, and the council. I would 'ave liked to 'ave hacked the potentials list, but that info was lost during the initial attack by the Reapers. I wonder who the others were, that he was the best choice." The woman looked thoughtful for a moment, eyes glazed, staring away as though listening, before she returned to look forward and continued. Indistinguishable voices echoed in the back-ground.
"I s'pose I should tell you a little 'bout what he done before becoming the man that failed us. Early in his career as a marine, one of his missions went south... After what I've already said, you must be asking yerself 'what's new?' Well, this one was different. Batarians, a barbarian species with a purview ta slav'ry an' smugglin' an' a whole load'a shit that ain't 'alf as kosher, attacked a human colony. Shepherd lost all 'is crew, he was surrounded by death and destruction and he, alone, 'eld out long 'nough fer the alliance to mount a proper resistance. He was called all sorts'a War Hero, praised by all the bigwigs at the Alliance bu' the colonists tell a diff'rent story. A story of his mayhem, revelry in the death of his enemies. He was brutal, much more brutal than the Bartarians. It wasn't that he 'eld the line, it was only tha' they di'n't wanna get close to 'im, they feared 'im. The colonists were scared of 'im, and he was protectin' them!"
"After this, t'was decided that he would do solo 'eavy fire mission. 'is superiors were startin' ta realise tha' he would be a liability if he 'ad a team with 'im. He just didn't 'ave the mind ta deal with lookin' after people, even squad-mates. He excelled in 'is role, whether playin' distraction or target elimination, he was brutally efficient, killin' 'is way ta the target although the path o' civilian and military deaths he left spoke o' his disreguard fer life."
"So this is Stephen Shepherd, War Hero, N7 marine, Spectre, the supposed Saviour of the Galaxy. The man who failed us all..." The image returned to the human woman, she looks behind her for a few seconds, eyes wide. A call, sounding fearful or angry, echoed from further down the hall before a gunshot was fired. "Shit..!" The woman exclaimed before the log ends. The aliens looked at each other, curiosity lighting their black bug-like eyes. "What do you think?" The female turned to him.
"I think we should listen to the next log." Came the reply. She nodded and brought up the log list.
Ok, so what did you think? Please, let rate and review. New chapters will be posted if I feel people are enjoying the story so far.
This is my first serious fanfic and I wanted to do something a little different.
Thanks all,
Passcode.