4- Homecoming
The frigate is new and shiny, like the shotgun and the geth pikes. Now that I don't have the gun, I have a new salvation in the clearing below. It has just docked and I am on my way to it, scrambling down a grassy hillside.
Behind the vessel is a lovely, wide vista. Eden Prime by night. Swaths of deep, natural green and pinkish brown stretch out until they merge with the freshly-painted night sky.
Two Alliance personnel just entered the ship, with two bodies in tow. I couldn't make out much more. They were moving fast, but it was just the two of them. I guess the battle is over. This must be cleanup. They're here to help.
I scramble for minutes, going fast, imagining a soft bed, fresh medi-gel and the company of armed servicemen. Before I'm halfway down the hill, the frigate's engines disturb me again. With skill and sudden haste, it lifts, about turns and vanishes into the perfect view. I didn't even get close enough to wave.
My lower lip hanging open in front of closed teeth, I sit on the hillside.
I don't know where to go. I've stopped trying now. I thought it was over.
But it is nice to sit down, and to have a little peace. This area is pretty, though there is smoke high in the air spoiling my view. I must still not be so far from the dig site. There is long grass here, and more of the perplexing, gentle gas bags. Hidden by the greenery and the steep wall I still feel pretty safe, even now that my rescuers are gone.
There is one of the colony's big towers fairly nearby. It's always been in my sight, since I originally landed here. It ought to be ugly; an enormous metal tower sticking out of this paradise, with big white numbers printed on it of course. The Alliance loves big, white numbers. But it's a part of the planet now, now that it has been truly soiled.
I wonder how many have died, and how many I could have helped if I'd jumped from that pike sooner. If I'd run straight back into the battle instead of panicking as those things closed in on me. I will regret it always.
Now I have very little to do, it seems. Even the rescue ship was brief and leisurely in its business. Nonetheless, I suppose I could head back where I came from, unarmed and injured, and see about finding others. I could do something, instead of waiting here for another ship. At the very least, I could put those poor people out of their misery. I shudder again at the thought. I don't want to decide that just now.
Breathing is hard after everything I have been through, and with the gap in my body. The muscles there have been exposed to the elements for a while, and they are tired. The blue tints are still visible within, and they make me feel ill once more. My hand, too, shows blue in its cuts. I hate it.
My burned legs still feel as if they're being cooked inside the ceramic coverings. My bad arm feels numb, and my torso and face are stained with my blood. I have taken serious injuries, and strange ones. It's not right that I should feel like I've failed. That I should feel I have to go back into that hell. But I do.
I am a soldier, after all. For now.
I stand up and continue making my way down to the clearing. When I get there I keep walking. Back to the dig site. There must be something I can do. I allow myself to feel egotistical pride in what I'm doing. It's a good thing.
An idea hits me and makes my lips twitch into something resembling a smile. My fingers reach into my thin slacks and retrieve the little datacorder I took from the research settlement. After all the silence, I feel like talking. And it would be fun to make a voice-record of my own out here. So I figure out how it works, set it recording, and just start talking.
As I walk amongst burned bodies, empty pikes and broken robots, I chat to the corder. I tell it how the battle began and what we saw. About the mothership and the awful noise it made. I talk about the initial attack right after, and I talk at length about the creatures they made from our dead. I tell the corder how they are made, how they fight. Why they're so efficient. I start talking about the old vid. About the dragon's teeth and the skeletons. I start to giggle, hearing myself. I hope no-one hears this.
But it feels nice to be personal with it, so I open up a little. I tell my little confidante how badly I want to be on Earth right now, and how scared I am to be walking back into the field. I tell it about the boy I failed to help. I tell it I'm sorry I couldn't save my squad, and I name those who I saw die. I tell it I hope Williams is all right. I tell it how much I miss my husband's cooking. It's a lot. I miss him.
Finally I give my name. Private Nirali Bhatia. Of the two-twelve. And then I switch it off.
The battle has left a foul smell in this place, and it's more noticeable to me now than ever. But I ignore it. I'm here to do a job.
I know that soon I will find a new weapon, and I'll do some good. I'll find some communications equipment and radio for help. I'll meet up with the colonists near here. And I'll protect them from those monsters. They won't capture me again. I won't let them.
The fear leaves me at last. I can fight these things now. I'll do my job, and do it well.
For a moment I slow my patrolling and blink. It feels good. I'll be home soon.
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Author's Notes
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Thank you for reading my special Halloween Mass Effect fanfic! I hope it chilled your bones and made you cower behind your monitor with chattering teeth.
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Thanks to Tillian, Knightfall1138 and my friend Adam (who does not have a screen-name) for their help coming up with this, and for listening to me rant as I worked on the idea.
Extra thanks and Halloween goodies to anyone who reviewed - espescially R.I.C.A.R.D., who always seems to review my stuff, and is always very nice and constructive about it. It is appreciated.
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You have been reading "Smells Like Smoke and Death" - the Ultimate Experience in Grueling Mass Effect Horror.
Enjoy the season and don't eat too many sweets.
