Shattered Preview
On approach to Earth, heading to Shepard's trial, the Normandy is assaulted and destroyed by a strange anomaly, escape pods containing the crew scattered through time. Basically, Shattered is a series of loosely connected stories rather than one whole story, though they will link together at the end. The idea is to look back on history and play with it a little. This is a preview, with short snippets of each story.
Apologies in advance for any historical inaccuracies. I didn't have time to do a lot of research, and some of these subjects are remarkably difficult to find reliable, detailed information on. There's some strong language below- it's Jack and Zaeed, so what do you expect?
Normandy SR-2
November 12, 2185
On Approach to Earth
"Joker, what's going on?" Shepard snapped, running into the cockpit. Around them, alarms blared. The Normandy shook violently under their feet.
"I don't know!" the pilot replied. "I've lost control of the ship! Systems aren't responding?"
"So much for a peaceful last voyage. What the hell hit us?" Shepard asked.
"We are not being attacked," the AI explained. "We are experiencing a subspace disturbance." Almost on cue, the ship shook again. A console exploded in the CIC as a hull breach opened up two decks below.
"A what?"
"A subspace disturbance. A potentially destructive space-time anomaly." The ship rocked again under the influence of the subspace eddies again.
"Can we ride it out?" the Commander queried.
"It's not like we have much of a damn choice," Joker said, fighting with the controls.
Shepard keyed the intercom. "This is Commander Shepard speaking. We are experiencing some kind of spacial anomaly. Secure yourself and brace for impact. We're gonna try to ride it out."
Another wave of energy slammed into the Normandy, then another and another. Shepard was glad she was still wearing her armor, complete with helmet. As the pummeling continued, she queried, "Status report, EDI!"
There was a terrifying pause. "Hull integrity is dropping rapidly. We are on a collision course with an unknown object. Engines not responding. External forces continue to increase."
"Wait, wait, wait. Are you telling me the Normandy is going to get torn to pieces?" Joker asked.
With a detectable tinge of sadness, the artificial intelligence replied, "Yes."
"Is there anything we can do about it?" Shepard asked. The ship rocked again, and a woman screamed as smoke began pouring out of the vent beside her.
"No."
"Well, this is one hell of a way of avoiding a trial." Shepard keyed the intercom. "All hands, abandon ship. Repeat, all hands abandon ship. This is not a drill."
"Will that do any good?" Joker asked. "I mean, won't the escape pods get stuck in the same anomaly?"
"Perhaps," EDI offered as she ship creaked under the brutal strain.
Shepard looked out the cockpit window, at the blurry, constantly changing form of Earth rapidly closing toward them. "Better than staying here."
On Shepard's order, the crew hurried to the waiting escape pods, filling them and ejecting through the disturbance toward the planet below. Every pod would land, but none of them would reach their target.
Berzerker
England, 1066
Grunt didn't particularly care what he was fighting for or why he was fighting. As soon as the first knight rushed him with his sword, Grunt's krogan instincts kicked in.
He laughed as he swung his claymore one-handed, beheading a horse and cleaving through its rider. He was fully embroiled in a blood rage, ignoring the blows that struck against his thick hide and battered armour. Another one of the warriors charged at him, and ended up impaled on the blade in his other hand.
"Kill the foul beast!" someone shouted, and the warriors redoubled their efforts. He noticed that both sides were now attacking him, but paid it no heed. Grunt was in complete blood-rage mode, and was perfectly happy to slay indiscriminately.
With a mighty roar, he swung his swords in an arc, raw strength breaking easily through the armour of the warriors and pulverizing their organs. He used his swords with power rather than finesse, bringing them crashing down time after time on the warriors that opposed him.
If only his krannt had been there.
Rebirth
Florence, 1488
Liara T'Soni considered herself fortunate.
She understood enough of science and of history to understand what had happened. She had ended up in the past, about eight hundred years or so by her reckoning. It appeared at first that she was the only one, as she couldn't contact anyone else who had escaped from the Normandy. Then she realized that they could be trapped in different points in time.
With her long lifespan, she could make it back to the present the long way, simply by waiting it out. Very early on, perhaps eighty years ago, she had decided that she would wait for the others, try to find a way back for them, and if that was not possible, at least carry on their legacy. Hopefully, she would be able to warn Shepard when the time came, and it would not happen again.
It was a very asari thing to do.
As an asari, she could disguise herself as a human woman relatively easily, and that was precisely what she was doing at the moment. In one of the languages she had learned- Italian- she said to the man across from her, "Yes, I think it would be possible."
The man gently took back the drawings. "You are the first person to say that. And from a woman, no less."
She arched an eyebrow at the comment, one she was all too used to. "So quick to dismiss me because of my gender."
"Forgive me, I mean no disrespect," he apologized. "I merely observe that it is unusual for a woman to be interested in and educated in the field of science."
He folded the drawing and tucked it back inside his sleeve. "You truly believe it could fly?"
She leaned back in the chair. "In theory, at least. With what is available, I am not so sure."
"By what do you mean?"
"The geometry of the wings is more or less correct, both their shape and their motion, provided I am reading this diagram correctly. However, if it was built of wood and iron, it would be far too heavy. And I do not believe a natural human is strong enough to power the machine." She paused. "I could do some calculations, if you would like."
The man shook his head before addressing her, tone dead serious. "Leona, if that is truly your name, I believe there is something you are not telling me."
She looked around. They were in a busy marketplace, bustling with activity. "Do you have somewhere more private where we could talk, Leonardo?"
By The Code
Osaka, 1600
"You must master the art of the blade," the old man said, stroking his white beard. "To master the blade, you must master your body. To master your body, you must master your mind."
"I understand," Thane replied in rough Japanese, bowing toward the blind master. He sheathed the katana, steel sliding against wood with a characteristic sound.
"Good, stranger, good. I will see you again tomorrow."
Thane turned on his heels, striding through a pair of paper and wood doors into another room. He nodded to the blue-skinned woman sitting on the floor, meditating, glowing with biotic energy. "Justicar Samara."
The blue-violet glow disspitated, and Samara opened her eyes. "Thane. How was the practice?"
"It was pleasant," Thane replied, grabbing a bowl of rice. He coughed, a bad sign of his rapidly deteriorating condition. "It keeps my body active, my mind occupied."
Quietly, the old asari asked, "How are you coping, Thane? We are a long way from home, and we may never see our friends again. Even I will likely not live long enough to fulfill my obligations."
Thane paused before anwering. "I have come to accept our arrival here. Perhaps it is the intervention of a higher power, perhaps simply random chance. Either way, I will make the best of it."
"That is a good way of seeing things." Samara replied, distracted. Finally, she spoke. "War is coming to this place. I can feel it."
"I do not know if my body will remain alive long enough to see it," Thane replied, digging into the rice.
"We are about to see a great change," Samara continued. "My knowledge of human history is limited, but it is obvious from the people here. Any modicum of comfort we enjoy will soon be shattered."
Thane said nothing, continuing to eat his rice in silence.
We The People
Philadelphia, 1776
"Why the fuck are we here, anyway?" Jack asked.
Zaeed shrugged. "Some kind of goddamn space anomaly bullshit."
"That's not what I meant," Jack spat. She jerked a finger toward the fancy-dressed men with the funny wigs. "I mean why the fuck are we in Philadelphia watching those douchebags scribble down gibberish on a piece of paper?"
Another shrug. "They're the founding fathers of the United States. It's a pivotal moment in Earth's history."
"Since when did you give a shit about history?"
"Since I started living in it," Zaeed replied brusquely.
"Cut the crap, Zaeed," Jack complained. She removed a protein bar- one of their last ones- from a pocket on her jacket and began loudly crunching on it. That elicited several gasps and unpleasant stares.
"Good sir, perhaps you should correct your lady's-"
"Hey, fuck you too, buddy!" the biotic woman shouted back, eliciting a laugh from Zaeed.
She turned back to the mercenary. "Why are we here?"
"Why are any of us here?" Zaeed asked quietly. "I could ask you the same goddamn question."
"Philosophical, too? Fuck, Zaeed, you going soft on me?" She paused. "Stop ducking the question."
Zaeed grumbled and leaned closer. "This is where the action is- where the shit's about to go down. I don't know about you, but I don't exactly like sitting on my ass doing nothing. And..."
"And what, Zaeed?"
"If we play our cards right, we can get goddamn rich."
Free to Fight
London, 1944
Yet again Ashley Williams found herself in an uncomfortable spot, smack between the Women's Army Corps she was reluctantly a part of and the actual Army that she wanted to be a part of. In this case, it was literal. She was sitting in a mostly-not-bombed-out bar between the men and the women.
One of the women slid onto the stool beside her. She whispered, "Look at those men, going off to war! Wouldn't you just love to have a man of such integrity and courage?"
Ash downed the glass of rum in her hand, feeling it burn as it slid down her throat. "Yeah. Sure."
"Oh, what is wrong with you?" the woman- Molly- whined. "You've been surly all day. If you don't want to be part of the Army, then there are other ways to contribute at home!"
She didn't reply, instead motioning the bartender to send her another glass of alcohol. What was she supposed to say? That she wanted to be on the frontline- a completely insane thought for a woman of the time. At close to six feet taller, she was bigger than a lot of the actual soldiers, and her mannerisms had already led to several of the other WACs making comments about her liking women, behind her back of course. "Nope, I'd rather be here."
She caught the wink one of the men, Travis (she didn't know if it was his first name or his last) toward Molly. Taking the next glass, she downed it quickly. Truth be told, she was a lousy WAC. She was supposed to be a clerk for one of the generals, but more often than not jammed up the typewriter. But she was learning- if she didn't, then they would boot her out and ship her home.
"Hey, what's a cutie like you doing in a place like this?" Travis asked, moving next to them. He smiled.
"Freeing a man to fight, of course," Molly repeated. Ashley groaned. She could replace two fighting men, and she'd be happy to do it.
Shooting the other woman a winning smile, Travis turned to Ash. "Actually, I was talking to this lovely woman-"
"Not interested."
"Oh, geez, I just wanna have a little fun." Yep, he was drunk.
She raised an eyebrow. "The kind of fun that'll land both of us in the brig?"
Drunk enough to miss her slip-up, the soldier continued. "You know, pretty soon we're gonna be moving into France-"
"I know. I'm not interested."
Gently, Travis grabbed her and pulled her closer, lips inching toward hers. In an instant, Ash reacted. She balled one hand into a fist and slammed it into his face, feeling the crunch of his nose and teeth breaking. Blood sprayed onto her hand, his uniform and the wooden bar.
Travis screamed, holding his bleeding nose and stumbling backwards. Behind her, the WACs clustered together, screeching. The men just stood there, unsure of what to do.
After several seconds, one of them made his decision, charging her, shouting, "I ain't gonna let a woman do that to my bud!"
"Bring it." Even in her inebriated state, she dodged the first blow easily, coming in underneath and punching the man where it really hurt. She kicked him viciously in the side, hearing a rib break.
"Afraid of hitting a girl?" A small voice at the back of her head reminded her how wrong what she was doing was, but clerical work was dull and she needed a little excitement in her life. When the next man attacked, she tripped on her skirt- damn skirts!- but quickly recovered, sweeping his legs out from under him and jumping to her feet.
The last man was bigger and tougher, and they stood across from each other, elbows up, circling like boxers. If a boxing match was what he wanted, that's what he would get. He swung first, and she blocked his blows, delivering a pair of his own to his face, then kicking him in the shins and driving her fist into his ribs. He fell to the floor, arms up in surrender.
She surveyed the carnage. "Aw, crap."
Unidentified
Area 51, 1952
Garrus groaned as the human entered the small, dark room again. He was shackled to a sturdy metal chair, which was in turn bolted to the floor. It was a different man than the one he'd seen before- though his face was obscured by the poor lighting, Garrus could tell that he was both military and not very nice.
"What is it this time?" Garrus asked, in English. He was already reasonably fluent in the language, and during his stay had caught on to the differences between 20th and 22nd century English very fast. He could only pretend to be dumb so long- he'd first replied what seemed like years ago, striking the human dumb. He'd lost track of time completely- it might have actually been years ago, or only a few weeks. "Come to feed me my weekly paste allowance? Zap me until I say something you think is important? Mock me?"
"Your friend." He had no idea when that was either, and it still hurt as much as anything could hurt the numb turian. He kept getting weaker and weaker every time they threw him back into their shared cell before one day he didn't come back. "How'd he die?"
Garrus coughed, tasting metallic blood in his mouth. Spirits, he wasn't in much better shape. "I don't know, maybe you killed him through torture?"
"We treated him as good as we could have, given the circumstances," the human replied.
"Old age."
"Come again?"
"Mordin died of old age," Garrus replied. "His species only live for about forty years, give or take. There, I said it. Happy now?"
The interrogator ignored Garrus. "A hidden poison capsule? Maybe a biological gland, part of his anatomy? Or some kind of implant?"
"No, either he went because he's almost forty years old, or one of your interrogators got a little overzealous."
"I assure you, there is no torture going on here."
Garrus laughed, a dry, crackling laugh. "No torture? Explain this to me, then."
He leaned forward, turning his head slightly to expose the smashed plates on the side of his face- the side opposite the scars. As he did so, he scanned the man's uniform, struggling to interpret the funny glyphs the humans used.
He leaned back. "But I'm sure you already knew about that, Stevenson."
The man gulped visibly- slightly but visibly. Garrus pressed on. "You know, I'm not all that different. You act like I'm some kind of superior or at least cryptic being, beyond your understanding. I was a cop before all this shit happened. Would you believe that? I was a detective."
High Times
White Lake, 1969
If there was one thing Miranda had learned to do, it was smile. Even with the rain pelting down and the ground turning muddy, she smiled. One of Jacob's arms was around her, and they swayed together to the pulsating music.
"Man, I never thought I'd get to see this in person," Jacob told her, shouting over the music and the crowds. He wore a similar smile, brilliant against the tie-dye of his shirt. When they locked eyes, though, Miranda felt something just wasn't right. She ignored it.
"I don't think I ever thought about it," she replied loudly. "Although some very strange things have happened."
"Feel the love!" someone shouted. The crowd quickly reciprocated, the sentiment carrying on down the line.
"Feel the love!" Miranda shouted, her Australian accent unusual but not alone.
"I'm feelin' the love!" the man on stage shouted back through the PA system. "Thank you, thank you everyone."
With the performer finished and the next setting up, the noise of the music was replaced with the din of a chatting crowd. Miranda turned to Jacob, expecting a smile or a wink. Instead, the man had a distant, ponderous look on his face.
"Jacob?" Her own smile was faltering, turning upside down into a frown. "Jacob, what's wrong?"
He sighed deeply. "Drafted, Miranda. I've been drafted. I knew making these identities would come back and haunt us."
"What? I thought I made sure- this wasn't supposed to happen." Her smile was completely gone. "It's no big deal, we can just disappear again until the war's over. If history goes as expected, everyone who dodged the draft will be pardoned."
He shook his head. "No, this is where-when- we live now. I've made my decision."
"Jacob-"
"I've thought about this long and hard, Miranda. This is our home now. We can't stay ghosts, keep running forever."
"Well, if you're going, I'm going," Miranda insisted.
Another shake of the head. "They won't let women sign up until the next century."
Her response was steely. "I'll find a way."
He put the smile back on. "I'm sure you will, Miranda, I'm sure you will."
Information Revolution
Silicon Valley, 1989
"What you're saying is insane, Tali."
"Like how I talked about the Macintosh and you said it was-" she made air quotes with her three-fingered hands- "never going to take off?"
She didn't let him continue. "The internet is the future, definitely. Along with desktop publishing and the GUI."
"But it's an expensive proposition! The kind of investment it would require to integrate-"
"So release it in steps! You don't have to release your media player and your internet explorer and your new operating system all at once." She paused, rolling her chair out of her cubicle and back in. "Of course, I could always head down to Santa Clara and talk to a different Steve-"
"No, no, I get it, I get it," the man replied, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll talk to Bill."
"Good." She whispered, "Bosh'tet."
"-here's the resident alien, Tali, and the robot, Legion. Careful, the alien's a bit... touchy." As Steve left the office, a different pair of men entered. One of them she recognized as the server tech, the other she'd never seen before.
"Oh... well, you didn't have to put on this much of a show for me," the guest said.
"Nonsense, you're a sci-fi guy so we're giving you sci-fi. Can't talk about the internet all day, can we?"
Tali rolled her iridescent eyes behind her mask and attempted the best monotone she could muster. "My name is Tali'Zorah vas Neema nar Rayya. I come in piece from the planet Rannoch. It is my pleasure to meet you, mister-"
"Moore," the man replied, managing the one-word answer. He turned to the admin. "Is that real?"
Tali rolled her eyes again, monotone replaced with dry sarcasm. "Yes, my people built a race of machines called the geth, one of which is standing one and a half metres from your face, who subsequently evolved sentience. There was a war with lots of epic battles and large space explosions and we were exiled to a fleet that traversed the galaxy with the forlorn hope of once again returning to our homeworld. I am one of the last of my people, a refugee that landed on Earth fifteen years ago."
She paused. "No, you idiot, you're being pranked. Now help me out of this goddamned suit."
"Likelihood of being pranked- ninety-one percent," Legion told the man, suddenly becoming active. As soon as the visitor heard the whine of joint servos and felt the flashlight eye trained on him, he collapsed to the ground.
Tali shared a look with the server admin and laughed. It was an insane plan, but it actually worked. Showing everybody the alien made everyone think there wasn't an alien at all. It was a perfect refuge in audacity.
The admin continued staring at her, and she shook her head. "No. I dragged Casey out last week. It's your turn this time."
She spun around in her chair, fired up her omni-tool and got back to work.
Convergence
Washington, 2013
"Feels like the world's gonna explode," the redhead remarked, stirring her coffee. She peered out the window at the crowds below. "Gay marriage, gun control, privacy and piracy- not to mention the shit going down in the Middle East."
"If I remember correctly, you were involved in some of that yourself," the brown-haired man across from her replied. He took a sip of his tea.
"Yeah, I was." She leaned back, her tight t-shirt showing her muscular arms as much as her breasts. "Only with the whole women in combat issue, though."
The man raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? How so?"
"To be a Ranger- that's elite infantry if I understand correctly- you have to march eighteen miles with a fifty-pound ruck in under four hours." She smirked. "I told them twice and half."
"Did you make it?"
She grimaced. "Classified."
Leaning back in the chair, she continued, "Of course, after they open the combat MOSes to females, now nobody wants to join. Fucking hypocrites."
"Well, soldiering is traditionally a men's profession," the man told her. "And not a very pleasant one at that."
"Yeah, I just look at the ratios in your military and it makes me sick." She slurped back the coffee. "But enough about that. I called you because you published a paper on some kind of... spatial anomaly."
The scientist adjusted his glasses. "Yes, actually. Have you read it?"
The woman shrugged. "I did. Can't say I understood a lot of it."
"Well, it's fairly simple, really," he explained, leaning back, tea forgotten. "About a year ago, we detected a burst of exotic particles- we being various groups around the world, and detected of course as much as you can detect exotic particles. Of course we had no idea what caused the burst at the time, but I had my theories. So over the next several months I studied the readings, trying to figure out what happened."
"So, what happened?"
The scientist smiled and shrugged. "We don't know. You'd think that would be a major letdown, but it's actually quite exciting. What we observed it theoretically impossible. We're reasonably sure that this burst of particles was caused by an influence outside of normal spacetime. Something very strange, exotic, and unknown."
He leaned closer, giddy with excitement. "The really strange thing is that at the same time, observatories detected several unidentified objects- assumed to be meteors- in and around the same area we think the exotic particles came from. After further analysis, they determined that it was very possible that these were artificially created objects. Officially, it's just space junk that jumped out of orbit due to lunar gravity interaction."
"And you disagree with that?" the redhead asked, starting to see where the scientist was going.
"Well, it's possible, but given the circumstances, we're hoping- maybe even assuming- it's something more. Maybe there's life out there, trying to contact us. Maybe this is their form of interstellar drive. Maybe we're dealing with a force we've never seen before- perhaps even one we can harness!"
He leaned back and took another sip of tea. "The bottom line is that we're on the verge of discovering something big, something that could change our understanding of the universe. I'm serious, Miz-"
"Shepard. Jane Shepard."