Life on the Antietam began with my omni-tool helpfully blaring into my ear that it was time to wake up. I woke with a start, having only gone to bed five hours earlier, and pulled my stiff uniform on, yawning. 0500 was wake up call for officers. The super convenient timing was so we could wake up our subordinates that weren't on shift. Or something like that.
I started my day with my usual routine- pushups, situps, pullups, all the normal exercises to help me wake up. Truth be told, I skimped a little more than usual. The previous night had been a double shift thanks to some phantom signal, and I had only held it together with stims and liberal doses of caffeine, so I was tired as all hell.
It was the 28th consecutive day of our mission to search the Attican Traverse for a band of Batarian terrorists wreaking havoc on human colonies. Though the Batarians had largely rebuilt since the loss of their homeworld to the Reapers, there was still a lot of animosity between the Council and the Batarians over the Alpha Relay incident. The Hegemony might have been replaced by a far more progressive Batarian Republic, but wounds like that never really went away- politics be damned.
Poor bastards. I felt for them, I really did. I mean, they were ugly and cruel sadists like 70% of the time, but I still felt bad.
I ended up screwing around on my terminal for a while, going through my private messages on the extranet until I had to go into the Marines' quarters and make sure they were doing their job. My news updates pulled up quickly, and I surfed through out of boredom.
Quarian colonization upsets Turian Hierarchy- read on for more!
Yahg reported to be developing spaceflight tech- Salarian officials 'unconcerned'.
Salarian Civil War enters fifth year- stalemate between military and government
The Reaper Tech Menace and what you can do to help!
Get Asari Girls on Illium!
I admit, I perked up for the last one, but my omni-tool buzzed again, indicating it was 0525. I yawned, grabbing my coffee cup, and exited my quarters, walking down the short corridor past the bathrooms to the communal sleeping quarters. A handful of marines who had been on watch duty for the last shift milled outside, waiting for my morning briefing.
I traded a half hearted salute with a Private named Rasha outside. The kid was a good enough marine, green like most of us, but still a bit on the newer side. Even if we hadn't seen any combat lately, this wasn't most our first tour, and the most recent batch of recruits had seemed even younger than the last. Not like I was an old man or anything- hell, I was only 27 and straight out of officer's training, so it's not like I had a wealth of experience to draw from.
"How was your shift, Private?"
"Good, sir," she yawned. "Chief Chada wanted to speak with you by her quarters."
"Thanks. I'll get to that in a second. Have a good night."
I pressed my palm to the holographic lock, causing the door to slide open. I walked in confidently, pressing the button to turn the lights on, drawing a round of pained groans and yawns from the sleeping marines.
"Atten-tion!"
The Marines stumbled out of their bunks, making them to regulation specifications as quick as possible, before standing at attention in various states of undress. I wasn't exactly the biggest fan of regulations, but I supposed that's why they came up with them in the first place, so I followed along anyways. No point in rocking the boat.
"At ease."
The marines relaxed, looking at me warily.
"Today we're heading for the Alliance space station in Gagarin, Armstrong Cluster. Orders are to refit and repair all systems in the flotilla before heading back towards Citadel space to rendezvous with the rest of the Second Fleet. You've got fifteen minutes to get your shit in gear before the Captain kills me, so get to your posts. Dismissed."
The troopers scrambled into action as I walked out, winking at the half-dead marines from last shift.
Each shift consisted of a squad. By all accounts, I commanded a platoon of Marines- the Third Platoon of Barker Company, 415th Alliance Naval Marines- to be exact. Regs had been quite clear that each shift of marines consisted of a squad of troopers- twelve marines- trading off to ensure that their duties were covered at all times. That gave us 24 marines (shipboard troop strength was different for ground forces) plus a headquarters element. Or at least, that was my understanding of the honestly quite copious and dry Task Force Organization Chart.
My first command. I know, impressive, right?
Of course, the Regs and reality were two different things. 'Proper duties' for Marines were usually whatever shit jobs the naval pukes didn't want to do. We guarded the bridge, officers' quarters, armories, as well as doing shit like cleaning the head and general watch duties.
Not that we expected anything else. As they say, Fleet does the flying, Marines do the crying. Or was it 'dying'?
I exited the somewhat smelly room and walked down the smooth, plain corridor again, turning the corner until I hit Chada's quarters.
Operations Chief Kiri Chada leaned against the wall casually, her uniform frumpled and wrinkled after the last shift. She saluted smartly as I turned the corner, but I waved towards her lazily. We had known each other since I started on the Antietam, but she had always insisted on following the regs to the letter. I didn't follow her example, of course, but I guess I respected her commitment to the Corps.
"At ease, Chief. Private Rasha said you wanted to talk?"
"Yes, sir. It's…"
I sensed she was uncomfortable.
"What's going on, Gunny?"
"It's a personal question, sir."
"Shoot."
She rubbed the back of her neck uncomfortably.
"It's just that a lot of us, sir, are starting to wonder if we're ever going to see any action. The Salarian civil war is where the action is, and…"
She trailed off.
"I know how you feel. But hey, we go where the Alliance needs us, right?"
She nodded appreciatively, walking back into her quarters, leaving me alone. In all truthfulness, I had no desire to fight. The Alliance had intervened in the Salarian War after repeated petitions to the Council, and the bulk of the Fifth and First fleets were deployed in Salarian space in a peacekeeping capacity.
And the last thing I wanted was to be on a Salarian world when their scientists decided to unleash a deadly nanovirus, so I was perfectly content with the boredom of patrolling remote colonies.
Besides, the last time I led an actual combat mission, things had gone... less than well.
I sighed dejectedly. The officer's meeting was about to start.
The well-furnished conference room seemed more dead than usual as the ship's officers- all half-asleep or wired on stims- struggled to stay awake. Even Captain Sanders, the erstwhile and gruff commander of the Antietam, sounded ragged as he led the briefing.
"So Alliance intel says that the Batarians should be somewhere in this cluster. We think they're in this system, but we'll know for sure when we check in with the station… as you've no doubt read in your daily briefings."
There was a round of yawns around the table, which would have been funny if not for the utter exhaustion that we were all experiencing.
"Any reports?"
Lieutenant Balthazar Imm, the heavy set and grim-faced Chief Engineer, held up his finger.
"We've got some minor fluctuations in the drive core. I had my people take a look at it, so it should be good, but the sooner we rendezvous with the Fleet, the better."
"Good. Keep an eye on it, Imm. Anything else?"
Lt. Hans-Peter Gouldsson, an energetic young guy from Earth, raised his hand next.
"Sir, most of the details about the rest of the wolf pack are in your private messages, but all ships in the flotilla are running at optimal capacity."
"Good to hear. Iwata, how are the Marines?"
"Itching… to fight, sir," I said, struggling against a yawn.
"Glad to hear it. We-"
"Captain, I think you should come up here."
The voice of Flight Lieutenant Oskar Bunkers, the chief pilot, echoed through the conference room. Almost immediately, a subtle shift ran through the room. We all perked up a little- from the tone of Bunkers' voice, something was wrong. To his credit, the Captain looked altogether nonplussed. Though, to be fair, he almost always looked nonplussed, so in hindsight, that wasn't much of a red flag.
"Continue with your duties, I'll keep you appraised."
As the Captain and his aide rushed out of the room, the rest of us filtered out, talking excitedly. I caught up with Lt. Josephina Tungate, the Chief Weapons Officer and the closest thing I had to a friend on this damned ship.
"What do you think that was about?"
Tungate was a paradox of sorts. She was very fair skinned and slender, but her manner was brusque and blunt. She was also an extremely skilled shooter and knew the weapons systems of the Antietam inside and out. Due to her resemblance to the famed war hero, a lot of people called her 'Shep' as an affectionate nickname, likely due to her rich red hair. We never got her to admit it, but a lot of the Marines figured that the look was purposeful, and that she was some sort of crazy Shepard fangirl, though her disposition seemingly contradicted that theory.
She shrugged, scratching her armpit as we entered the large war room, which was filling up with various comms and diagnostic officers at various stations due to the recent shift change. The large central holographic display displayed a closer view of what I recognized as the Gagarin system, technical and scanning readouts scrolling through the air.
"Bunker probably screwed something up and didn't want to share his screw up with the rest of us. I wouldn't worry," she said, wryly.
I laughed. Bunker, while a skilled pilot, was notoriously clumsy, which was ironic given the stalwart nature of his last name. I swear, that guy could fly a frigate like nobody's business, but if it came to carrying a lunch tray to a nearby mess table, he was impossible.
We entered the elevator down towards the mess hall, tapping our destination into the holo-display. A few ensigns straggled in, saluting us both as we chatted.
"I tell you, Iwata, I'm counting down the days until this tour is over."
Tungate was, technically, a higher rank than I was, but we had developed enough of a rapport to circumvent parade-ground formalities.
"I hear you. I'm hoping we'll get some downtime on the Citadel; there's this place on Zakera that-"
A violent jolt knocked us against the wall, and the internal lights in the elevator dimmed. I looked up in concern, then at Josephina.
"What the fu-"
A more violent impact rocked me to the ground, and thankfully, the elevator doors slid open. Outside, the emergency lights had kicked on, and red siren lights flashed from the corners.
"This is Sanders. Code Red. I repeat, Code Red. All personnel, report to your stations. Repeat, all personnel, report to stations."
"Shit- that means enemy contact, right?!" I asked, trying my hardest not to let panic into my voice.
"Yep."
I nodded once towards Josephina, who started sprinting towards the weapons bay as I went the opposite direction, towards the troop quarters. As I slid around the corner, my heart pounding in fear, I nearly ran into Kiri.
"Thank God, sir. What do we do?"
"What?!"
"What the hell do we do?!"
I leaned against the wall in panic. My breath was coming in short, violent pants now, and my mind was completely blank as I tried to remember what procedure was. This was exactly what had happened on Corinth, it was happening all over again-
"What are our orders, sir?!"
"Get the others down to the armory and distribute weapons and combat armor and then- and then-"
Another violent impact shuddered through the deck, and I staggered towards my quarters.
"M-Make sure you report status once you get d-down there!"
She nodded uncertainly, running back towards the quarters while I tapped in my combination to my room. I staggered towards my armor locker and quickly strapped on what armor I could. By the time I had gotten my chestplate, shoulder pauldrons, and gauntlets on, my omni-tool was blaring.
"What?!"
"Iwata, it's Quail. The flotilla was ripped apart by unseen hostile vessels. We took a few of 'em down, but we've sustained heavy damage. We're gonna try to make a landing on Rayingri. Get your troopers outfitted and standing by the escape pods ASAP!"
"Y-yes, sir"
Quail was the XO, and he had hardly ever talked to me before. Truth be told, I couldn't be a hundred percent sure what it was he had said, as I was scared shitless, but I blurted out something resembling an affirmative and grabbed my pistol from the locker, rushing out of the room and into the quarters.
They were empty, as I suspected, and while I knew that I should check every corner, my instinct for self-preservation was too strong. I ran back out, pulling up a channel to Kiri.
"K-Kiri, Commander Quail wants us standing by escape pods after suiting up. Get the guys ready for hostile environment conditions."
"Yes, sir!"
I had made my way over to the elevator before I remembered Josephina. Cursing, I pulled up another comms channel.
"Jo, do you read? Jo? LT?"
Silence. Shit.
Cursing, I sprinted over towards the gun battery when a massive explosion ripped through the hull. For a terrifying second, I was being sucked towards a ragged hole in the side of the ship when the emergency kinetic barriers came online, sealing the breech. Unfortunately, they activated after a few unlucky navy pukes were sucked out along with most of the furniture in the mess hall.
What saved me, ultimately, was a garbage can that had wedged itself against a support beam and had subsequently caught me by the ankle, nearly ripping it out of its socket. As the gravity came back on and I fell to the ground violently in a puddle of torn muscle and shame, the reality of my life really came crashing down.
I could have been farming and getting lucky with some Asari back on Asteria. It would have been boring, sure, but hell- it beat getting killed in the ass-end of nowhere.
Instead, I was in the middle of a space battle, and had just had my life saved by a trash bin.
A trash bin.
My eyes fell shut, and there was nothing but the idiocy of my life to comfort me as the Antietam fell apart around me.
Hey all,
So this is more or less my attempt at a semi-regular Mass Effect series. I usually write for series like Avatar: The Last Airbender and stuff like that, but ever since I started playing Mass Effect, I've fallen in love with the series (I recently finished my third complete playthrough of the trilogy). I'm fairly new to this community, though not Fanfiction in general, and while I know that this isn't anything crazy new or anything, I figured I'd give it a shot either way.
Feel free to leave feedback or constructive criticism!
-IGdude117