Standing amongst the Makos, Scott Ryder waited to hear a report on the condition of Corporal Stevens, one of the men under his command. Whatever it was, it would not be good. At best, Stevens was out of commission.
This small depot in the middle of the African savannah was a place of safety for now: The Reapers had shown it little interest. It was the city on the horizon, Bulawayo, Zimbabwe, that was the battleground. Its ruin could be seen from afar: sky-scrapers with tops cut off at large unnatural angles, billows of smoke, and at night the sky above would burn red. And once every so often, a Reaper would be overhead, callously sweeping the city with its energy weapons, or dumping monstrous troops into the city.
He could see the faded image of Luna above it all, where he was stationed just weeks ago. He had been promoted from Second to First Lieutenant for successfully evacuating the personnel of the McCandless outpost during a fighting retreat. It was a funny thing to be commended for, a fighting retreat. He did not feel particularly brilliant for the way he had handled it, either; More than half the colonists had not even survived.
Scott heard the medical tent door open, and turned, knowing he would finally get the news. Dr. Sanyal came out. Ryder tried to read his face.
"Stevens is dead. I am sorry, Mr. Ryder. We did all we could."
Scott was not surprised, but still hurt to see another soul part. He was the fifth person to die in Ryder's platoon since he had arrived, the second today. Shaw. Paul. Tran. Lucia. And now Stevens.
"I appreciate your efforts, I'm sure you did all you could. I didn't expect him to survive a wound like that."
Then something in the sky caught Scott's eye and jolted him back into alert. But quickly he realized it was not threatening. It was a comforting, human shape. It was a shuttle of some kind. It looked official, but not military, and meant to seat no more than twelve passengers. It was touching down on their empty landing pad. What the hell could anyone important want with this miserable little back-water outpost?
Those who exited were soldiers, but their uniforms were clean, and more decorative than that of the average grunt. None of them wore helmets. There were three of them, apparent the leader of the group an obsidian skinned man with a shaved head.
They were walking in his direction. Who could they be looking for? There was nothing but Scott and a bunch of Makos where he stood.
"Lieutenant Ryder: We have orders from Councilor Udina himself. You are relieved of duty here and expected to fly off world immediately."
So it was him?
"The Council? I didn't realize I was so important. What's going on?"
"They didn't provide us much information, but you have your orders."
This was totally unexpected.
"Right, I just...let me at least pack a few things. Just...how far away are we going? Where are you taking me? How long will I be away?" This was such a rude and sudden interruption, not like anything he had ever experienced before, even in the chaos of war.
"Illium. From there you will be transferred to a larger vessel. All I know is you won't be coming back."
Not coming back? Did his performance on Luna impress more people than he thought? He himself had not been impressed with his own actions. But what else could it be? Were they simply dragging him to another hotspot in need of reinforcements? Strange they would only take one man.
And Illium sounded familiar, but if he remembered correctly it was an asari world. That was even stranger. Perhaps he was misremembering.
"Alright, I'll pack up ASAP. It's not like I brought much with me."
As he began his way towards the barracks tent, amid all his bafflement, he realized it was still a blessing to get out of this cursed depot. Now he would not have to look any of the dead's friends in the eyes. Atonwe or Gallagher would absorb those under his command, probably better people for the job.
He wondered if his sister and father were doing any better. They were fighting too. One was on Eden Prime, the other on Tyr. Or rather, his father had been on Tyr, until he was relocated off world on a classified assignment.
He entered the tent, and got to his cot. On the nightstand, there was a picture of the two aforementioned souls, his sister giving him bunny ears, on the beaches of Jamaica. That was back when they were a family. Now they were literally worlds apart.
He pulled the travel bag out from under his bed and put the picture inside.