((Author's Note: I'm giving this story a MAJOR revamp! Tell me what you think in the comments!))

PROLOGUE

2170, exact date unknown…

"Ma! I'm leaving to go see Cousin Kyle!" Jack Vulcan yelled over his shoulder as he adjusted his brand-new overalls. His outfit had to be just perfect, since Kyle Martel was not only his cousin but also his best friend, and Jack certainly didn't want his best friend seeing him in his ratty farm-boy clothes. His mother's response came so quickly it scared Jack.

"Don't do anything stupid! I don't want that boy maiming you with his biotics! A kid with your brainpower wouldn't want to get killed, would he? And don't be so hyper this time! If I get so much as one call from Kyle's mother saying you two were being rowdy like last time..." his mother's commanding voice echoed from the kitchen, letting the threat hang in the air. Jack chose not to respond right away, as it was clear his mom was in one of her moods. He eyed his reflection in the mirror, his piercing, acid-green eyes contrasting sharply with his pallid skin. The light trickling in through his bedroom window was enough to reveal the glistening rivulets of sweat dripping down his face. It was a hot afternoon on Mindoir, and by some miracle Kyle happened to be free today. With all the sports Kyle played, it was a small wonder he found time to sleep. Jack began rubbing a pale-blue styling gel into his medium-length jet-black hair, slicking it back while letting a tuft hang from the front onto his face. He finally decided not to hesitate any longer in responding to his mother.

"Ma! I'm eight years old! I can take care of myself!" he shouted back, stepping out from the relative darkness of his bedroom into the blinding glare of the common room. His father was sprawled out on one of the couches, tinkering with one of his gadgets, probably one of the VIs that he specialized in fixing. Jack knew better than to disturb him, so he pulled on his worn-out farm boots and started to walk out the door. "I'm leaving now! I'll be back by five!" he called.

"Young man, I do NOT want to see you getting into trouble this time, do I make myself clear?!" his mother demanded, still in the kitchen. Jack allowed himself a grin. He decided not to answer, and as soon as he stepped out into the sunlight, he broke out in a dead run for Kyle's house down the block.

The door to Kyle's house flew open before Jack even reached it, and nine-year-old Kyle burst out, dressed in a biotiball jersey. Upon seeing Jack, his tanned face spread into a smile. He picked Jack up in a bear hug, and didn't let go for what seemed like ages. He finally set him down, and ruffled Jack's hair playfully.

"Hey there, little cuz! How's everything at the farm?" Kyle inquired in a heavy Boston accent. Without giving Jack time to answer, he continued on as if he'd never said anything. "Ah, hell, enough with the small talk! Let's get out and DO something! How about... Oh! I know! Hide-and-seek! You're gonna hide first, got it?" he shouted cheerily. Jack nodded his assent, then bolted as fast as his legs coud carry him toward Kyle's family's greenhouse. Kyle stepped back into his house, closed his eyes and began counting, but he was cut short as his seventeen-year-old brother Charlie slugged him in the shoulder. Kyle rubbed his shoulder gingerly, and stared up at his sneering brother. They shared the same rust-colored hair, but the similarities ended there.

"You still hang out with that dweeb? Come on, man! That husk of a kid probably couldn't even lift an omni-tool!" Charlie scoffed. Kyle cringed in disgust.

"Whoa, whoa, cool it! He's your cousin too, you know!" Kyle looked down at his stopwatch. It was time for him to begin looking for Jack. He put one foot out the door... when he felt his brother's strong hand clamp down on his injured shoulder. "Don't... move.. a muscle." Charlie hissed into his ear. With that, Charlie produced a blade from his omni-tool... and cut himself with a wound so savage that Kyle actually threw up onto himself. Charlie was gushing blood, and he collapsed onto Kyle, staining him with liquid crimson. He was dead almost before he hit the ground. Kyle's head was swimming in a mix of emotions: fear, grief, puzzlement, and more, but he peered outside, and he finally understood what his brother had done.

In the center of town, a conglomerate of ships of batarian design had touched down. Methodically, a mob of batarians spiraled out, using savage hunting rifles and slaughtering everyone they came across. Kyle understood now. Charlie wanted him to play dead! And Charlie... He had chosen his brother's life over his own. Kyle was alive, but at what cost? His thoughtstream was cut short as a batarian stomped his way into the house. Kyle held his breath, hoping, praying for a miracle...

"We got these ones already, you idiot! It's a damn shame, too! These would have been the best slaves this side of Khar'san!" the batarian barked into his two-way radio. It marched out of Kyle's house, huffing in frustration. Kyle sighed a silent sigh of relief. But his world continued to sway before him, a tangle of feelings and emotions and colors playing before his eyes like a movie on fast-forward. Then he passed out, thankful for the void of unconsciousness stealing him away from this nightmare.

Meanwhile...

Jack glanced around. Where was Kyle, dammit? These four-eyed things that passed for batarians had probably murdered him by now... Jack clobbered himself in the forehead. How dare you think that! Kyle would find some way to survive, and now you've got to do the same! he admonished himself. Subtly, he snuck in through the greenhouse's open door. He peered around, looking for cover. Many exotic trees stood out, but those would make errible cover. Suddenly, beneath his feet, a glowing path sprang to life. Oh, that's right! The Martels have a greenhouse VI! Thank God! Jack remembered. He was careful to follow the trail, and found the observation chamber made of one-way glass. The door was open, and it locked electronically from the inside. Jack hurried in, and the VI locked the door behind him. A machine just saved my life! Hooray for machines! Jack thought with a sort of appreciation. He peered out the window, so as to bear witness to the massacre of the town. The batarians were stacking the dead bodies outside haphazardly, and Jack knew every single one of them...

...and then he noticed survivors. Strong, fit men and women, yanked from their homes and forced to kneel on the bloodstained ground. Jack watched as Talitha, the athletic champion of his school who wasn't much older than he was, was forcefully yanked from her hiding place and slammed on the ground with the rest of the town's survivors. Abruptly, an adnormaly strong batarian came into visibility, bearing no less than four dead colonists. As it happened, those colonists happened to be none other than Mr. and Mrs. Martel, who were shopping at the grocery store, and Jack's own parents. Unable to control his raw emotion, he threw up all over the floor, but he couldn't cry. Not yet. Maybe this was all a dream, and he'd wake up and Kyle would be out playing football and Dad would be on another business trip and Mom would be picking the crops ... He was positive he was going to be the next causualty, just another statistic in the history books, but strangely enough, the invaders stopped. They scanned the immediate area, and finding nothing, the batarians whipped out sharp omin-blades and cut large but shallow gashes, straight through the forehead, into each of the survivor's heads, causing severe blood loss. The screams of pain that followed would haunt Jack for years afterward.

But the worst was just beginning. A sinister-looking device that looked like it came straight from his father's VI repair shop was inserted deep into each wound, and then a gel-like substance that made the wounds heal at an ungodly speed was applied. In a matter of seconds, the wounds were closed, and aside from the dried blood, all the survivors looked dazed but fine. The "four-eyed menaces", satisfied with their handiwork, began expertly tossing grenades that shot concentrated blasts of fire into nearby buildings to finish what they had started, leaving no one untouched by their trail of destruction. Nearly paralyzed with fear, Jack could do nothing but watch as everything around him, his home, his life, slowly collapsed in columns of flame. Jack shakily scanned both the survivors and the dead, he didn't see Kyle anywhere. No, Kyle! You can't die! Oh, please be okay, Kyle...

Soon, the devices became apparent. Using a remote control from their omni-tools, the batarians triggered awkward yet systematic movements in each survivor. Like the geth that Jack had heard about in bedtime stories, these unwilling servants acted as one cohesive unit, forced to cater to the every will of the four-eyed invaders. And Jack couldn't do a thing about it. I want to see them burn, just like we did, Jack thought bitterly. And that's when the darkness of unconsciousness welcomed him with open arms.

Hours after the initial batarian contact, a lone Systems Alliance freighter, the SSV Einstein, managed to bust the batarian blockade surrounding Mindoir. It only had time to rescue Jack and Kyle before the return fire became too great to remain on-planet. No other ships managed to land until the next day, but it would take six whole years until all the batarians were eliminated and all survivors were rescued.