A/N: This is my first attempt at a long-winded story, so bear with me and be liberal with Reviews.
The orange was already fading away. The tumultous wreckage of the Galaxy's centre, left behind. The Normandy had FTL drives engaged, making it's way through to the Omega-4 relay. A new wreck had been added to the graveyard. Mission accomplished. The Collector threat, The human reaper, all gone in a blinding flash. After all the weeks of careful preparation, it had taken only five hours of intensive fighting.
The sounds of celebration could be dimly heard from the Captain's Quarters. Commander Rosalyn Shepard had not joined them, pleading tiredness and injury, and was lounging in a chair, thinking. There was a lot to think over. It would take a while for them to return to civilized space.
They had won the battle. The mission which was all but suicide for anyone else, pulled off with just one casualty. Zaeed had took a freak bullet between the eyes. There was nothing anyone could do.
I'll miss the guy...Shepard thought sombrely. She had lost crew members before. Alenko's face drifted into focus. The man had trusted her, and she had left him to die a fiery death by nuclear explosion. Suddenly Zaeed's face replaced Kaidan's, the gruff man's eyes rolling over in death.
She shook her head. There will be time for mourning later. There were other things. That Human Reaper for instance. It would take a while for her to make any sense of that.
No doubt our dear Illusive man will be dying to dissect anything we have,she thought wryly. Then there was Cerberus. The organisation was not exactly inspiring trust. She would have to decide about them, soon, and decisively. All this came with the burden of being the Commander.
Getting up, she rummaged in a small closet, cleverly hidden, and brought forward a bottle of wine. Thinking would be better done over a glass.
Most of the crew had, in the wake of success and one big exploding base behind them, decided to stay on with Shepard. To the bitter end, as Jacob had put it.
Thane would leave, of course. He deserved to spend the last of his days with Kolyat. Samara would leave as well, no longer bound by her oath. She had promised to raise the Reaper issue among the Asari Matriarchs.
They have committed the most heinous crime known in the Code, Shepard, She had said calmly when asked. Bringing them to justice will be a pleasure.
Reapers.
Shepard knew that their invasion would come, at an indeterminate time in the future. Harbinger all but assured that. It could take them a few weeks, a few years. But The Alliance taught it's Marines one simple thing.
Expect the worst, hope for the best.
Shepard was certainly expecting the worst, but she had to hope. The problem was, she no longer had a clear direction. Stopping Saren had been straightforward. Elysium had been straightforward. The collectors had been straightforward. The enemy visible, real.
Now...It was hazy.
If the Reapers invade the next week, there is nothing you can do about it. Lean back, relax. The crew has earned a shore leave.A little R&R at the Citadel won't destroy the galaxy. we have won the battle...
But not the war, Her thoughts ending grimly.
Planet Nyur, Terminus Systems.
The Turian known as Nayar made his way through the jostling crowds of the capital, carrying a suitcase in one clenched talon. The streets of Nyur were dangerous at any given time, the fact that it was a batarian controlled world did little for the rampant lawlessness prevalent throughout the Terminus systems. Nayar knew that very well.
He was a respected banker, a respect gained quickly. He had arrived on the planet six months back, with good credentials, but poor luck. And he struck gold. His small consultancy business was flourishing quickly. Now, however, he felt the stresses of his job, and wanted only to get to his apartment.
Quick steps, and a wary eye saw him get there in one piece. Exchanging a brief friendly word with the receptionist, an Asari, he took the elevator. All part of the routine,it could get deadly boring, if it was not deadly profitable. Everything, from the brisk businessman's outfit, to the gun he kept strapped to his waist, seemed normal. Keeping guns was a normal practice for businessmen in the Terminus, although most couldn't use them for shit.
He was about to enter the room, his target a warm shower and a good meal, when he felt something. Something.
He flashed his card, and hid most of himself behind the wall, peering in cautiously.
He faced the barrel of a gun.
Instinct took over, he rolled just as a loud explosion filled the void where his head had been. He heard a soft curse, feminine.
Asari, probably, He thought, taking out his blaster, and listening for the next move. He didn't have to wait long. Three figures charged out of the room, or tried to. Nayar took the first one in the head, a clean shot, he flopped on the floor, lifeless.
So, they don't have shields, He thought distantly, his body already moving. Catching the second figure's arm, he twisted quickly, rewarded by the snap of bone. Without delay, he spun, and landed a powerful turian kick, sending the third figure flying.
It had taken all of three seconds. Nayar took two more to put three shots in three heads. Only now was his breathing slowing. He took a dispassionate look around. His room had been ransacked, and three bodies littered the space. An Asari, a Batarian and a Human.
Diverse. Little more than thugs though. He was calm. Too calm.
The door to an adjacent room opened, and a glint of metal caught his eye. It could be anything, but considering the situation... Armor. Here comes the real deal.
His room was on the third floor, with an window to outside. The quickest way out. He gathered as much momentum as he could, and crashed into the solid glass. It broke, and he fell in a tumble to below. He knew how to execute such a drop, and rolled as soon as feet touched ground. No damage done, and he had escaped his chasers momentarily. Momentarily being the key word. He ran, as fast as he could. Rounding the corner, he heard a clatter, and knew that the chase was on.
He ran in the narrow streets, weaving in and out, occassionally firing a blaster shot behind him, only his ears serving as any guide. His pursuers were dogged, following him relentlessly, spraying fire to snag a hit on him. Several times they hit civilians. Nayar couldn't care. He couldn't help them if he was dead.
He ran to a warehouse he knew well, it was a defensible position. In a defensible position, he could take them. If the three he had killed had been any indication, they weren't particularly dangerous. He could take them. He had to.
Luckily for him he was unburdened, while his pursuers, or at least some of them, had armor. He could outrun them, if not outdistance them.
The warehouse loomed ahead. Nayar jabbed numbers on his omni-tool furiously, and a side-door opened. He ran inside. The warehouse was ordinary. Full of crates and other oddities. Perfect.
He found a good spot, and waited.
The main doors slid open.
His first shot found a head, human. He didn't crumple though, a flash of blue informing Nayar of the worst. Shields. His second shot created an explosion of gore, as the human's head...vaporised.
His pursuers were spreading out, taking positions. He noted two Krogan, in lumbering battle armor. He snarled mentally. This was going to be tough.
He lay down accurate blaster fire. The enemy looked content to just hold defensive positions though, advancing slowly, carefully. Not carefully enough. Two more heads exploded, Turian.
Mercs are usually more aggressive. Why are they slow? He thought, leaning behind a crate to let his gun cool. he didn't have many spare canisters, and his gun overheating would be fatal. A stray shot had took his right arm. Nothing medigel couldn't fix, but it hurt.
Do they have more? They look like they are intent on keeping me in a corner. Reinforcements? Damn big operation, Have I been compromised?
He shuddered slightly. That would be fatal. He doubted it. Still, he had a good defensive position, and he could hold out...
Huge force impacted him from the side. He felt himself fly, quickly, far too quickly. He impacted against the warehouse wall with a sickening thud. Pain clouded his vision, but still, he tried to limp behind a crate, before another jolt sent him back into the wall, harder than the first.
He could not lose consciousness. Not now. Looking up, he saw his doom. A figure covered in blue.
Biotics. Shit.
The figure advanced, knowing that it had Nayar caught. Gunfire had stopped. As it inched closer, Nayar noted that the figure wore black armor, covering it's entire body, and sexless. At least, he saw no features associated with a male or female.
Blue covered him, and forced him roughly to the wall, pinning him there. The figure spoke.
You tried well. but if our enemies are this weak, then I do not see what we have to fear.The voice, it was far too monotone for a living being. A synthetic voice then.
Nayar knew that his time had ended. He felt no sadness though, he was doing his duty, and he was going to die doing it. He would not die a coward. He spat.
Gunfire lit up the warehouse. It went on for a long five minutes, before what was left of a Turian called Nayar slithered down.
The figure in black turned, and it and the mercs were gone as quickly as they came.