Part 1: The Sole Survivor
"Open the doors! Stat!" Captain Steve Cardwell yelled.
The two men who stood at his command hastily moved to open the airlock. The door slid open, and the Captain's hair was immediately jostled by a warm breeze. He had to move his arm to shield his eyes from the brightness of the evening light, piercing compared to the ship's dark interior.
His light blue eyes stared and then widened at the sight which confronted him. A single man, military uniform shredded in parts, and seemingly eaten away – in others, stumbled through the portal, barely able to walk. Cardwell recognised the soldier to be N7 graduate, Lieutenant Shepard. He also noticed the paleness of the soldier's face, and the shock in his eyes.
The two men rushed to his aid, helping his limping form and guiding him toward the Captain. The lieutenant's eyes momentarily broached his own. Cardwell's own resolve nearly crumbled as he saw the look in them. Reluctantly, he forced himself to address the soldier.
"Report, lieutenant. Where are the others?"
The soldier's eyes blinked, his mouth quivered slightly, then he spoke in an admirably steady voice:
"I think I'm the only survivor, Sir." He gave a salute to his Captain.
Cardwell was amazed the soldier was even thinking about decorum after what had just happened. The entire squadron, destroyed around him.
"Only one? Of fifty soldiers? How…"
Shepard spoke again, his eyes dipping to the floor.
"Aliens, Sir. The patrol was ambushed."
"By what?" Cardwell asked inquisitively, his tone far more harsh than he'd intended.
Shepard shook his head. "No one had ever seen anything like them. With permission, Sir, I'd like to return to my quarters."
Cardwell gave him an empathetic nod. "Of course, Soldier. Report to med bay first. That's an order. Dismissed, Shepard."
The soldier straightened his posture as much as he was able and gave another salute. His eyes met his Captain's again briefly before he turned and limped off across the hold.
"Go with him. Make sure he's alright," Cardwell demanded of his two men. They nodded and followed after him.
Cardwell stood alone in the hold, listening to the hum of the drive core, his eyes locked on the hallway Shepard and his soldiers had taken.
"He's in a pretty bad state, Admiral. I don't think we can expect him to make a report."
Cardwell announced to the holographic image of Admiral Hackett, Rear Admiral of the Fifth Fleet, as he stood in front of the projection, frowning after recounting the news.
"Even if he does it might push him over the edge," he said grimly.
Hackett was similarly frowning after the news Cardwell had just given him. Forty-nine marines was a hit to the Alliance.
"I understand, Captain. But with so many men KIA, and if it's as you say it is and we won't be able to retrieve their bodies, Shepard has to file a report. He's the only one who knows exactly what happened. And without his account we won't know what we're dealing with. Akuze still remains unsecured."
Cardwell paused, his eyes scanning the ground instead of meeting the Admiral's. Finally he looked up and gave a solid nod. "Understood, Admiral. I'll talk to him, and try to convince him to do it."
There was a pause as both men contemplated what else needed to be said. Finally, Hackett spoke up again.
"And go easy on him, Captain."
"Of course, Sir."
The Captain walked into the med bay as the doors slid open before him. Held loosely in his hand was a datapad, but his eyes were firmly locked on the sight in front of him. As soon as he entered both Shepard and the ship's medical doctor, Dr. Kawski, looked up and gazed at him. Shepard was sitting on the edge of a bench with his head in his arms. Both waited for him to speak.
"How is the Lieutenant, Doctor?" he asked, concern evident in his voice, but also edging that this was merely the pleasant stage of what he was about to say.
"He's suffered slight and moderate acidic burns, as well as minor scrapes and scratches. He should be alright in a few days," the doctor responded.
Cardwell frowned, his brow furrowing. "Acidic burns?" He looked at Shepard, and he decided to just get on with it. His tone became all the more urgent as he came over to stand in front of him.
"Listen, Shepard. I have no idea what happened down there, but the Alliance has to hear about it. You're the only one who knows what happened." He lowered his voice. "You're the only one who can tell the families of those soldiers what happened to their loved ones, and bring them justice. I understand it's a strain on you, and if you can't do it I'll understand, but you should make a report."
He handed the datapad to Shepard, who momentarily looked at its blank surface and back to his CO.
He nodded. "I'll try, Sir."
Cardwell nodded his approval. "Good. We'll talk when you report. No need to distract you with anything else now."
Shepard sat on his bunk. His hands shook, fingers clasped tightly around the datapad. His eyes stared down at the screen as he forced himself to relive his memories. With great clarity he recalled the events, typing them onto the device in front of him slowly. Between each one he had to stop to breathe in deeply and close his eyes before he could proceed.
Finally, he felt he had had enough, and he pushed the datapad under his bunk and slid quickly into a tired slumber.
He closed his eyes, instantly images of his memories assaulting him. The dead eyes of his squad pierced back at him, their faces contorted with fright and pain. The less lucky ones were dragged screaming beneath by tentacles and rows upon rows of sharp teeth, the ground sinking beneath them as they were pulled to their deaths. The events replayed themselves again and again in his mind, mixing slowly with other similar things these eyes had seen. Unexpectedly images of a long ago colony on Mindoir assaulted him. The clouds darkened with the smoke of burning homes and leaking gas fumes into the atmosphere, the screams of civilians as they were chased, many gunned down where they stood in the back by batarians, the others dragged screaming to unknown fates into the batarian shuttles. His parents stared at him, their faces bloodless and dead.
He was screaming as he awoke. Shaking violently, he pulled himself out of his bunk, eyes wide and startled, pale-faced and sweating profusely. He looked about himself, noting the empty bunks of his squad, hearing his own breathing and feeling his heart beating overtime in his chest. Why was he alive, when everybody else was dead? Why had he survived again? His eyes rolled up into his head and he stood there clasping it, trembling, standing in the middle of the room under the solitary light.
This is a story I've had in mind to do for a while, and only recently found a way I liked to start it. It's the story of my original Shepard, and will follow the events of the game, going more in-depth into his personality. It will be another novelization of the game, should people like it enough to keep going. I will still be working on my other stories. Please, if you liked it, review! Tell me your thoughts on my Shepard, I'd be very glad to hear them.