Date Published: 15/10/2013
Date Re-Edited:
Warhammer and Mass Effect, are the sole properties of Games Workshop/THQ and Bioware/EA Games respectively. This is a work of Fiction, as well as non-profit, and thereby complies with their 'Term and Conditions' stipulated by the Companies themselves. The only thing I seek to gain with this Literary Work; is to improve my Creative Writing abilities, and if in the process someone were to enjoy what I have written…
So be it.
Writing Styles
"Talking Normally"
Thinking/Projecting Thoughts
=Radio Transmissions/Synthesised Voices=
+=Computer Text/Coding/Written Text=+
Warhammer Date/Time Keeping
+=[Mark: +/- The Time since or before the Mission Started]=+
+=[Seconds:Minutes:Hours]=+
+=[Days (1 to 365):Years(1 to 999):Millennium (M3=2000/M31=30000)]=+
Chapter 3
- First Contact -
+=SSV Normandy Ground Team=+
+=Eden Prime=+
+=Constant (Capitol)=+
+=Outskirts=+
+=[042.183.M03]=+
+=[48.23.10]=+
+=[mark: +48.23.00]=+
Contact.
Search and Recover.
Horror.
The impromptu squad proceeded into the depression, ignoring the execution spikes – and the poor impaled 'civie'– that stood on their left. They advanced toward the edge of the Excavation, which was as quiet as the grave, through the deathly silence of the open Trench. The only thing that greeted them was the bare earth and broken boulders, scattered like bleached bones under the pale sunlight. Shepard moved up, Kaiden flanking her on the right and Ashley flanking her on the left. They advanced almost silently, each of them bent over their rifle. The shuffle… crunch – of their vulcanised armoured boots – the only sound in the dusty and – seemingly – deserted cavernous trench.
"No contacts," called Kaiden, breaking the tenuous silence.
They were exposed…
Out in the open…
However…
There were no Contacts… Enemy or otherwise… So far so good –
Gr-Chirp-Gurble-Chirp-Screeeeee!
Instinctively Shepard activated her Barrier… and Charged.
An orange orb – flew past her head – striking a Geth on her right.
She brought up her Rifle, and squeezed the Trigger.
She put a burst into the Geth in front of her.
She kept running, the mulched Geth forgotten.
Its shields down, its chest pulped and the light fading from its lone orb.
Still running… Still firing… her shield still flaring…
Rounds puffing up dust around her pistoning legs…
Shepard slid into Cover –
Pock – Bang!
– a Geth, trying to sneak up on her flank, dropped like a stone… its chest cavitated.
"Target down," informed Ashley's voice over the Comm.
"Confirmed," came Shepard's mechanical reply.
Her eyes locked down the Barrel of her Rifle, her eyes spent and eternity roving down range.
Panning left to right… right to left… seconds seemed to stretch into an Eternity.
Until… she but a burst from her Rifle, into a notch in the Canyon wall.
She saw a shield flare, brightly…
Heard the buzz of her rounds impacting…
She heard the glass-like sound as the shield broke…
Pock…
"Clear," called Ashley, stowing her Sniper Rifle, in favour of her Avenger Carbine.
"Moving up," informed Kaiden, drawing his Pistol and taking point.
Shepard approached the notch in the small-Canyon wall, as she got closer she noticed that it was far too regular to be natural. They stacked up around the opening; Kaiden swept the open aired chamber ahead with his Omni-tool… only to find… nothing. No heat, no life-signs, and no movement.
"Its clear," he informed, as he waved the squad in to check the chamber visually.
Shepard hung back – near the entrance – as she scanned the edges of the excavation above her.
Clear, no signs of Geth, but if they weren't here then…
She scanned the Chamber… only three artificial-looking structures stood out…
A triumvirate of very smooth looking pillars… Alien.
An earthen ramp leading up around and behind the dig… probably Human.
And a smooth concave circular Dias on the floor… definitely Alien.
That just left…
"Where's the Beacon," asked Kaiden, voicing the general opinion of the – exasperated – Squad.
With a growl Ashley responded, "the Scientists must have moved it… the Science Camp is up ahead… maybe we can find it there."
Shepard could here the stress in the Chief's voice; it seemed to be getting worse, and the longer they waited here the more irritable she seemed to get. But before she could move to reassure the Marine, the Comm. Sprang to life. Someone was trying to contact them over the Radio, but the channel was heavy with static.
=*[Static]* He–*[Static]* –stance. Change of *[Static]* –ans *[Static]*=
The rest of the message was completely garbled, Shepard looked toward Kaiden. He nodded and stared tapping away at his Omni-tool. About thirty seconds later, the message repeated, it was Nihlus…
=Have encountered heavy resistance. Change of plans Shepard… I'm diverting to a small Tram-Station. It has a major Geth presence. We'll rendezvous there… Confirm?=
"I read you Nihlus… Confirmed," replied Shepard into her Helmet communicator.
=Confirmed… Nihlus out= came the slightly eerie warble of the Turian Spectre over the Comm.
"Who's Nihlus," asked Ashley, suspicion dripping from her tone.
"Our back-up," quipped Shepard, rather glibly, "lets move."
They hadn't moved more than a foot, before Kaiden warned, "This is the perfect place for an ambush… keep your guard up."
They regrouped and formed up on Shepard, as she led them up the ramp into the Science Camp. As they rounded the corner – Damn – smack-dab in front of them were three more 'civies' impaled on those God-awful devices. The place was trashed… what wasn't knocked over was on fire… and what wasn't on fire had been blown apart… and what was left… well… it seemed to be a mixture of all three. Except for the 'civies' on spikes that rest of the bodies seemed to have been burnt beyond all hope of recognition. It was a grim sight… only two of the half-dozen pre-fab structures still stood, and as they moved toward them –
One of the corpses on a Spike… twitched. Shepard – with a distinct sense of horror – noticed that its skin had turned blue. The Spike started to descend. Its skin and clothes hung in tatters around it twisted frame. It reached the bottom and – Oh-my-God – it stood. Its hair had fallen out, and its eyes glowed… as soulless blue. The twisted… Husk… started to shamble forward… slowly. The other two descended – on their Spikes – like a pair of wingless desiccated angels, joining the first. Then… it noticed them…
Time seemed to stand still…
It then opened its mouth…
And let loose a shriek…
A terrifying soulless…
Gut-retching, mind…
Numbing, shriek…
And then it…
Charged…
"Open fire," screamed Shepard.
They all open fire.
Full-auto, the Husks stopped.
Stumbled, and then crumpled to the ground.
After another half dozen 'double taps,' just to be sure, Shepard raised a fist. The squad ceased fire, she open her hand – palm out – and flicked it left and right. Ashley and Kaiden, with swift and deft movements, took up positions on her flanks, as they advanced toward the first pre-fab. Only to find that… it was empty.
"Ashley, the door, Kaiden the wall-safe," directed Shepard with well-practiced ease, as she moved toward some crates at the back against the wall, "prioritise Medi-gel."
Like a well oiled machine – that belied the patchwork nature of the squad – they split-up and began going about their tasks. Ashley – her head on a swivel – watched the door, Kaiden – the orange glow of his Omni-tool giving him an almost daemonic appearance – hacked the wall-safe. And Shepard… we~ell… she would be best described thus: in every Fantasy Book ever written there was Swashbuckling, Witty Banter and – finally – Looting the Corpses. Shepard was doing the latter… just no Corpse… more like a 'high-tech' treasure chest. Less than a minute later; they had broken down the smaller Mods into Omni-gel, filled up all the Slots in their Medi-gel, and flagged what they couldn't carry with Encrypted GPS Beacons (for salvage later).
N7 Rule Number 3: you never now what you might need so take everything not nailed down. This of course led to N7 Rule Number 4: if it's nailed down it's probably a whole lot more valuable. Which – again – then led to N7 Rule Number 2: if violence is not an option, that's what your Omni-tools for. Of course I have always been a firm believer in N7 Rule Number 1: When in doubt… C4. Though I've always thought that rule a little strange – not too strange not to use it – just no-one had used explosives as weak as C4 in decades. Since the development of Eezo-based shielding the only stuff with enough 'Ommf!' to do the job was an explosive that was Eezo-based as well. But 'when in doubt… use ED-8' didn't quiet have the same ring to it…
It was shortly after that thought that Shepard realised her Team had been waiting for her to stop day dreaming for almost a minute. Putting on the best Imperialist swagger she could muster, Shepard led her team to the final – and still standing pre-fab – marching straight to the door, until –
Thud
It didn't budge; there was only one thing that in Shepard's Commanders-Arsenal that would open this Door…
"Kaiden, open it."
Delegation!
Kaiden moved to the door, activated his Omni-tool, and… within a minute… the door slid open.
"Quickly, get in…and shut the door, before they come back," cried a small woman in a medical-bodysuit, her nerve obviously long gone.
Oh… great, just what I need, thought Shepard sardonically, panicked 'civies.' Oh well we might just get some answers yet.
"The End is Nigh," cried the little balding man next to her.
"Oh Bugger," muttered Shepard miserably.
+=Sergeant Sigmund=+
+=Unidentified World=+
+=Unidentified City=+
+=Outer Suburbs=+
+=[?.?.M?]=+
+=[?.?.?]=+
+=[mark: +56.25.00]=+
Tedium.
Contact.
Repeat.
Left foot. Right Foot.
Left foot. Right Foot.
Left foot. Right Foot.
Hurdle boulders and serpentine the trees.
Left foot. Right Foot.
Left foot. Right Foot.
Left foot. Right Foot.
Until… he exited the forest, and slid into cover behind a pre-fab structure. He peaked his Bolter (with its handy M40 Targeting System) round the corner, the display in his helm identified at least a half dozen floating 'drones' above the street – in front of him – heading into the city centre. He gently pulled the Rifle back into cover – in his long service he had seen many such recon-drones (both Mechanical and Biological) – and they didn't react well to sudden movements. While in cover he tried for a third time to reboot his on-board telemetry package. All he got was the same messages over and over; the armours time pieces kept giving the same error messages, and any and all data-nets within range were down because all he got was "+=[Connection Failure: Data Corruption]=+". He was no Tech-Marine, but that probably meant someone was actively Jamming Vox-communications and most – if not all – Data-links, and the black pall of smoke hanging over the City led him to believe… well… he didn't know what to believe.
The city matched no-known Architectural Style he'd come across, and the Librarium on Macragge had a record of nearly ever world encountered – to date – by nearly every Legion with the Crusade. A record spanning nearly two Centuries, and if that wasn't enough it had also contain Information and raw Data from nearly every world within the Ultima Segmentum. He had no intelligence, no rock-crete data and no-known point of reference… this would be fun!
Okay the basics then:
Scans show that the world is rich in Agriculture.
High in Nitrogen, with the correct levels of Oxygen.
Minimal levels of pollutants.
Ultra-violet light levels higher than Terran-Standard norm.
Everything is well within habitable tolerances.
I need more data.
He activated his range-finder and tagged the hill he had arrived-on a few minutes earlier.
+=[Range: 9 134 meters]=+
Satisfied, he tagged the hill as [Planet-Fall] within his Locator, resetting the telemetry-suite. With a sigh, he began a quick diagnostic, always keeping at least one eye on his Auspex just in case those Drones got to close. According to his latest telemetry; the planets gravity was +=[1.04 of Standard-Terran Norm]=+, and the Atmospheric pressure at his current altitude was +=[1.45 of Standard-Terran Norm]=+. After reviewing the new Data he decided upon a course of action. With a flick of his eyes, he set a Waypoint at ten kilometres from his current position along the line of travel from Planet-Fall towards his best 'guesstimate' of the last known position of that Psychic-Beacon. Unfortunately his Locator still failed to produce a Map of the surrounding area, and his built-in Vox-Caster couldn't identify any Imperial Channels or commonly used Vox-frequencies. However his Auspex was able to provide him with a limited form of Terrain Mapping, allowing him to piece together a rough three-dimensional map… however that only applied to what was in line of sight.
Ah well… nothing worth doing is ever easy, thought Sigmund sardonically.
He aimed his Bolter back round the corner, trying to get a more accurate count of the – so far – non-hostile contacts. His inner calculations taking mere micro-seconds, he had the perfect line-of-sight towards the swarm, and in another fifteen seconds he'd have a –
A Drone twitched.
The Swarm shifted.
He ducked back into Cover.
He prepared for Hard Contact.
He could here their Anti-Grav system droning.
Growing… louder and louder… closer and closer.
Five seconds until contact… Four seconds… Three… Two… One…
Nothing… they flew over harmlessly, a few seconds later they were gone. A cloud of white oval shaped drones flying off over the forest, perpendicular to the trail he'd blazed through the foliage from Planet-Fall. With barely a backwards glance he swept round into the street, and charged down the road at a break-neck pace. If there had been anybody in the street to observe they would have said his speed was unnatural, and anyone with any Military-Training would have admonished him for his apparent lack of Situational-Awareness, however…
They would be wrong…
No-one could see inside his Helm…
No-one could see inside his Mind…
And No-one could foresee his Actions…
Sigmund trusted his War-Gear, if it said there were no Contacts… then there were no Contacts.
Sigmund trusted his Equipment to lead him to his Objective… that was all there was to it.
Sigmund knew what his Tech could do; it could scan almost every Spectrum known to Man… and quite a few that weren't.
Time was of the essence… he did not know whether or not his objective was time-sensitive, which meant he did not know how much time he had left to complete them. Therefore he had to hurry…
And so once again he descended into the mind-numbing tedium, that only another super-human match…
Left foot. Right Foot.
Left foot. Right Foot.
Left foot. Right Foot.
He advanced quickly toward the City Centre… encountering neither the corpses of the Defenders nor Attackers. This concerned the Space Marine; he slowed his speed, and began to check each corner… manually. It was at the third intersection that he came across the first signs of Life… or more precisely the first signs of Death. Ahead of him was an over-turn six-wheeled vehicle, possibly a troop transport, it was rather hard to tell what with it upside-down and burnt-out in a crater. There were at least a half-dozen burnt corpses scattered in and around the dead vehicle, which was hard to tell if it was armoured or not in its current (inverted) state. According to the Bio-Spoor Sensor within his Auspex, there was at least a 23% probability that the corpses were once human. He took cover behind the burnt-out vehicle, and began examining the artefacts littered about the wreckage.
*Beep*
+=[Warning: Spatial Anomaly Detected]=+
His HUD high-lighted as series of pods, oval in shape, and of unknown function. According to his Auspex the device was emitting some sort of Gravitational Field. He picked up the pod and examined it, feeling its weight in his hand…
Hmmm… to heavy to be a thrown incendiary, for those who are un-augmented… to well-machined to be an IED… it appears to be some sort of ranged-weapon… but what?
He traced a gauntleted finger over the casing, his eye examining the finish, until… he was drawn toward a row of three – identical – red buttons. Above each button was a small picture… obviously describing its function, and after a brief examination he pressed the first red button. The pod unfolded into a – vaguely – rifle-shaped object. He quickly analysed the weapon, and its probative value…
Theoretical:
Low Gothic Script (M-7), indicative of Human manufacture.
Shape and Design, indicative of Humanoid users.
Trigger-guard to small for augmented personnel.
No apparent, clip or magazine.
Practical:
Unsuitable for Space Marine combat deployment.
Unknown design and manufacture, retain for analyses by Techmarine.
His choice made; he collapsed the weapon, and mag-locked it to his thigh-plate, next to his spare Bolter-Barrels. He left cover, and began advancing down the street once more. He noticed that there were a lot more burnt corpses in the street, as well as several – two-man – shuttle-like transports along the sides of the road. But before he could examine them further, he heard a scream. Instinctively he reached out with his mind to –
Pain. Mind numbing. All encompassing. Never-ending.
His mental injuries, flared and real-space asserted itself, within the confines of his mind. Not missing a beat he remained calm, while rapidly moving toward the source of the scream. He spun round, into a courtyard between three buildings.
His hearts sped-up, he felt the rush of adrenalin – and other combat chemicals – surged through his system, and time seemed to slow to a crawl. He began to analyse the situation…
Theoretical:
Xenos are executing/sacrificing civilians, in a ritualistic manner.
There are eight hostiles, three contacts on top of the buildings, three contacts guarding the prisoners, and two contacts in the process of dragging away a victim.
Practical:
First. Neutralise over-watch units, at range with Bolter.
Second. Engage armed-units guarding prisoners, in CQB with Power Sword.
Third. Eliminate the remaining units, with horizontal slash in CQB.
Execute.
Private Nirali Bhatia of the 2nd Frontier Division, was having a really bad day. The day had started very early with hour upon hour of maintenance of equipment in the Cafeteria, where she had been when the Air-Raid siren had started blaring. She – and the rest of her Squad – had raced to the muster yard, but before they could be issued a Rifle, the Barracks had been hit. There was an explosion that had knocked her down, with darkness following shortly after. When she came to, she was already a prisoner, and she couldn't find anyone from her Squad. There were some Alliance personnel in her group, but most of her group was made up of frightened 'civies.' Strangely the Aliens – Geth I think – hadn't taken away her Omni-tool or her Head-set, so she tried to contact Command.
Nothing… No signal… No extra-net access… they were probably blocking their Comms so all that left was… she didn't know, but the least she could do was record what was happening and pass it on to Alliance Intelligence when she got the chance.
That was until… they executed Corporal Jones… it was horrible… she couldn't look away… and she completely forgot, about her Omni-tool and the recording… she even forgot about her Head-set. And then they grabbed another prisoner, and her heart-sank, until…
She heard it…
A series of metallic thuds and some high-pitch whistling.
And then the Geth on the roof started exploding.
Before anyone could re-act a giant blue blur Charged the Geth.
It drew a long sliver… thing… from its back, and cut the Geth guarding them in half.
With a single swing, with whatever that was… was it glowing blue?
He took another step toward the last Geth guarding them, and thrust his sword right through it. Not missing a beat… he turned… took a single step, and swung his sword up… and around his head and cleaved their shoulders and flash-light heads clean off the tops of the Geth Platforms.
They dropped the poor 'civie' they were dragging, as their metallic carcases slumped to the ground.
The giant seemed to pause… his sword stopped glowing… at which point Nirali realised that – He Had a Freaking SWORD – that was a real eye-opener at which point she begin to really 'check-out' their rescuer.
He then spun the sword round – one-handed – and drove the tip and the first two feet of that massive blade into the ground, through a Geth carcase!
He took his right-hand off the hilt, and offered a helping hand to the man on the ground. He picked him up – bodily – his feet dangling of the ground slightly, and put him back down on his feet. It was only once the giant stopped moving, that Private Bhatia finally realised how big he really was. The stunned 'civie' he just saved stared up at him in awe… he was barely half as tall as the giant. He stood more than nine feet tall and almost four feet wide. His hard-suit – or maybe it was an exo-suit – was made of overlapping plates, with each plate intricately etched with swirling wreaths of Ivy. And as she looked closer, Bhatia could see that each swirl was made up of innumerable lines of tiny Norse-like runes. Line upon Line… Swirl upon Swirl… drawing you in… it hurt her eyes to look at it. After an eternity – mere moments upon the recording – he turned to face the captives, and she caught sight of his right shoulder plate. Across that ivory plain was a very angular Jerusalem Cross (sans the innumerable smaller ones), transposed by a menacing golden skull, along the bottom rim was a series of Roman-Numerals. She barely caught-sight of his other pauldron, which – though obscured – bore a white horse-shoe, the tips of which were clutched in the Talons of a Golden Double-Headed – Imperial – Eagle.
However… despite him just saving them, he truly frightened her. The crux of her fear… his bone-white death mask of a helmet. From its scowling – inverted – U-shaped grill for a mouth, to its bloody-crimson eyes… the glow of which seemed to bore into you. The aura of disapproval was only reinforced by the scowling golden ridge, above the glaring lenses. And yet… this… image seemed to clash, with the navy-blue laurel that was etched… no rested… upon the helmets temples, with a white, ivory-like, inlay… like veins running round… tumbling round, his head. However it was the small – almost ornate – golden skull that seemed to draw her eyes inward. Until Private Bhatia was dragged from her day-dreaming, when the silent Alliance-blue monolith spoke…
"May I speak to the highest ranking officer amongst you," asked Sigmund, the synthetic rasp of his vocaliser seemed to startle a few of the men and women within the crowd.
They stood there staring at him, and glancing at each other in confusion. Sigmund had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, there was a possibility that…
Oh great, thought Sigmund morosely, no-one on this beatific little back-water speaks Gothic.
He opened his mouth to try another dialect that he was familiar with… until a small tan-skinned woman with a head-set stepped out from the crowd. With a sense of trepidation she pointed toward the only human corpse that the Geth had managed to impale, before his intervention.
"Corporal Jones was the only NCO in our group, and we have lost contact with Command," she informed him softly, if not with a hint of uncertainty, "However… out of all the Marines here… I probably have Seniority."
He raised an eyebrow – unseen – at this self-proclaimed 'Marine' and then asked her with authority, "What's your name, Soldier?"
"Private Bhatia of the 2nd Frontier Division, Sir," declared the diminutive woman (compared to him anyway); with a sense of pride he'd rarely seen.
Good… the people of this world have some backbone at least, thought Sigmund.
Turning back to the matter at hand, he asked Private Bhatia, "Can you lead, what soldiers remain, to evacuate all civilians you can gather into the country-side?"
"The Geth took most of our equipment, without our Weapons or Omni-tools…" she shrugged, "we could lead them towards the forest… the local wildlife should mask out heat signatures… but without guns or our Comms… we'd be sitting ducks… as well as helpless and blind. They'd be waiting for us… then they'd pick us off at their leisure."
Sigmund reached down to his leg and unlocked the collapsed Rifle from his thigh plate, and casually handed it to Private Bhatia.
"Here take this."
She unfolded the Rifle with practiced ease, sighted down the barrel and put a round into a nearby Geth Corpse.
He inclined his head toward the Marine, impressed with her rapid acclimation to the weapon; he then turned and pointed down the street, toward the burnt-out transport he passed earlier.
"There's more Rifles within that Transport… head down the street and into the forest… the way is clear," he informed her calmly, as he knelt down to examine one of the Xeno corpses – these Geth – that the Private spoke about. It appeared to be some sort of Xeno Cyborg, however he couldn't locate its brain-cavity. He was busy examining the corpse further… when he heard someone cough behind him. He turned to find that Private Bhatia hadn't moved, in fact she had gotten closer to him.
"Respectfully, Sir, what about you," asked Private Bhatia, perhaps a bit too loudly.
"I have critical objective that I need to complete," he replied succinctly, his tone devoid of all emotion, even before his synthesizer could obliterate it.
"What could Command possibly require here," queried Bhatia further, "this is an Agricultural Colony… there's little here of any strategic value."
The tactical part of Sigmund's mind decided that perhaps releasing a little information may further his objectives, he informed the soldier before him that, "I am supposed to locate some sort of Beacon…"
A frown creased Bhatia's face at the mention of the 'Beacon', her mood darkened considerably as she replied, "you must be talking about the Prothean Beacon. I heard that they were moving it up to the Space Port."
Ah… ask and yea shall receive…
"How do I get to the Space Port from our… current location," asked Sergeant Sigmund, a modicum of eagerness seeping into his tone.
"With all due respect, Sir… screw the Beacon," declared Bhatia venomously, "there are civies that need to be evacuated… we need every Rifle we can get… can't you divert the rest of your squad to secure the Artefact?"
Sigmund withdrew his mind from the confines of real-space… he open his mind… extending his Witch-Sight… outward, searching… Only to encounter… emptiness… and Pain… half remembered and almost forgotten. He couldn't sense his squad, and to reach further would only pained him more.
"The rest of my Squad is not deployed… within this System," replied Sigmund evenly, his tone unwavering… his Helm masking his pain.
Incredulous Bhatia asked, "Your just one man, what – ?"
Gr-chirp-chirp-gurgle…
Around the corner of a building came a Squad of half a dozen Geth… led by two large red ones.
Sigmund raised his Bolter, and calmly put two rounds through the lead Geth.
The Mass-Reactive rounds blasted them apart like metallic confetti.
The resulting shrapnel, downed the rest, their bodies crumpled.
Stunned, Private Bhatia raised a shaky hand, and pointed further up the main road, and with calmness she probably didn't feel stated, "if you head further up the road you will eventually reach the Space Port…"
Before Private Bhatia had even finished giving the instructions, Sigmund had sheathed his three-and-half-handed sword, and was already heading out toward the Space Port.
Breathlessly she called after him, "Wait… the Space Port is right beneath that… Thing. I'm afraid not even you could defeat that… alone."
Sigmund stopped for a moment and face the Alliance Marine, and spoke a phrase that would become synonymous with the Legion.
"I am a Space Marine… I Know No Fear."
Turning back to his quest at hand, like a Knight-Errant of old… he marched onward toward the Leviathan… his every intent to slay the Beast.
+=SSV Normandy Ground Team=+
+=Eden Prime=+
+=Constant (Capitol)=+
+=Tram-Station=+
+=[042.183.M03]=+
+=[07.27.10]=+
+=[mark: +07.27.00]=+
Struggle.
Smuggle.
Befuddle.
Advance, Fire, Manoeuvre, Retreat.
Advance, Fire, Manoeuvre, Retreat.
Advance, Fire, Manoeuvre, Retreat.
Burst fire on their Shields.
Snipe those bloody Drones.
And a Shotgun blast for the Stragglers.
Advance, Fire, Manoeuvre, Retreat.
Advance, Fire, Manoeuvre, Retreat.
Advance, Fire, Manoeuvre, Retreat.
On and On.
Over and Over.
Again and Again.
For what seemed like hours, they fought from the Science-Camp to the Tram-Station. The Geth never relented… they never fell back or regrouped, and the loss of entire platoons didn't seem to deter them. And it sure as hell never stopped them throwing themselves at Shepard's Squad, like a never ending wave of suicidal electronic berserkers.
On and On.
Over and Over.
Again and Again.
Take out one, another takes its place.
Take out five, ten rise up seemingly from no-where.
Take out a Platoon, and they drop a dozen more Armatures on your head.
Trigger discipline…
Tight groupings…
Watch your shields…
These were the words going through Shepard's mind, as she faced down hordes of Geth. She just taken out several Drones, clearing the air when-
Shhhhzz-clunk…
Her Pistol over-heated… not batting an eye, she swiftly switched her weapons, and blasted a Geth coming round a tree. She slammed into cover behind the trunk, checking her Shotgun, getting ready to –
…Silence…
Leaning out of cover, surveying the mechanical devastation around her, she could see that Ashley and Kaiden were equally confused. It seemed that the Geth had run-out of Mobile Platforms, but why…?
There must be a reason, thought Shepard numbly; they can't stop us… so why are they throwing themselves at us?
Her Squad formed-up and march to the top of the Ridge; only to feel the ground rumbling…
They heard a soul-wrenching scream… thousands of pained screams… as the Leviathan started ascend…
Up… Up… and outwards… malevolent bloodied clouds cast asunder in its wake… as it arose, the planet falling away…
Shepard's gaze was drawn from the retreating monster, to the hordes of Geth that were taking up position around the Tram-Station at the base of the hill they were on. Hundreds of Husks and Geth surrounded the miniscule little transport station, hundreds upon hundreds of hostile contacts… that they'd been slaughtering all morning.
There has got to be a logical reason for –
And then it hit her tired mind, had she more energy Shepard would have complain about the whiplash she got from that epiphany…
They were buying time; thought Shepard's lagging mental faculties, for the units further behind them… probably at the Space-Port. But for what purpose? It doesn't matter, the faster we get to the Beacon, the higher the chance we will negate their delaying action. Hah! Eat your heart out Sun Tzu, even half dead on my feet – not to mention severely decaffeinated – I can still out think a bunch of insane supercomputers…
At which point the Universe, sensing a challenge from the defiant little redhead, decided to drop two Squads of Geth and a horde of Husks on her head for her shear audacity. Needless to say; Shepard and her worn-out Team, neither appreciated the sentiment nor the 'gift' that they'd just received from the Universe. The great universal joke – as it were – was on them… and it just goes to show that sometimes all a good joke really needs is a little… perspective.
It was at this point – while the slightly petulant higher power got bored, and decided to go mess with evolution for a bit – that Shepard decided that she had enough. More specifically she had had enough of the Geth dictating their engagements…
My turn…
She swung out of cover, bringing her Rifle up…
Not aiming and not caring if she really hit anything…
That wasn't the point, she let rip with a burst of full-auto…
The nearest Geth doing a pretty good impersonation of a Colander…
She charged the Geth, forcing the alien automatons back several Steps…
Dark energy crackled about her, the air consumed with flashes of blue light…
She charged towards them, energy arching off her form, and when she got close…
Thwack!
The closest Geth went down, its flashlight head cracked and flickering. With a flick of her wrist, she flicked a spinning disc towards the recently expired Geths friends. Once the little surprise was delivered, she strode – in perhaps the most relaxed of manner – into cover. Ducking down behind a rock, suppressive fire rained down on her position until –
BOOOM!
– The half dozen Geth behind her ceased to exist.
Thank you ED-8 thermo-plastic explosives, and for my next trick…
"Kaiden, Overload," she cried over her shoulder.
Kaiden – who was behind the Commander – activated his Omni-Tool, quickly flash-forging a glowing orange sphere in his hand. He drew his arm back, and thrust it forward, sending the glowing-sphere towards a group of Geth. With precision, barely a second after Kaiden, Shepard launched a Biotic punch at the spasming automatons. Before they even hit the ground; she flicked a now familiar silver disk at the downed machines, and screamed…
"Fire in the Hole!"
The Geth with a grenade mag-locked to its chest looked down almost comically as –
Fwump!
– he and several other platforms were pulped by the blast pressure. For all intents a purposes they ceased to exist… while any husks within twenty feet were flung about like rag-dolls.
Note to self: Biotics and Eezo-Based explosives do not, I repeat do not, mix… on a lighter note –
"That was awesome," screamed Chief Williams with almost child-like enthusiasm, from somewhere behind her.
Nodding sagely, Shepard got out from behind a boulder and proceeded to check that they were all dead, in a manner befitting of most Zombie movies… by shooting each and everyone of them a couple more times just to be sure.
A few minutes – and a couple hundred 'rounds' – later; Shepard lead her team up the hill and onto the Crest to see –
A pack of Husks charging right at them.
Needing space Shepard lashed out with her Biotics.
She was taught never to retreat, even in the face of overwhelming odds.
Never allow your enemy to dictate the Battle…
Shepard charged the charging Husks…
And for a moment they seemed to pause…
Until –
Thrummm!
Everything… from Geth to Husks to the rocks on the ground…
Like a shotgun blast, everything blew outward in an expanding cone of Force…
Husks were littered about the field, and Shepard simply marched on, crushing them beneath her boots…
You must dictate the flow of the Battle…
Occasionally a Husk would topple behind her… sniped…
But she simply ignored them, and kept moving… kept killing…
She dealt death to the deathless… her rifle could be likened unto a Scythe…
With a sweep of her weapon… the twisted dead would topple like freshly shorn wheat…
But… she was not focused upon those in front of her.
She shot a Husk, lazily through the eye.
Where are they?
She bashed another, caving its skull.
Where could –
There they are…
She spotted the Geth Handlers, the mechanical masterminds guiding the mindless horde. Without them the Husks would be leaderless… easy pickings.
Seeing them… she charged…
Dark energy rippling of her form…
Her gun blazing away, taking out one…
Then two, until… it over-heated, jamming…
Not missing a beat, she brained the nearest flash-light head with the butt of her rifle.
Afterwards it didn't matter… her rifle forgotten; she lashed out, her Biotics flaring.
Left and Right; she'd tear one apart – and in turn – crush another with the pieces.
On and on.
Her Blood pumping…
Over and over.
The thrill of the fight…
Again and again.
The savage thrill that came with Destruction.
The supporting fire had ceased quite awhile ago…
Not that Shepard had noticed, as she put her fist through another platform.
She grabbed one by the back of its neck, slamming a glowing knee into its chest.
Casting it aside, she panned her gaze looking for the final Handler.
She turned to find a rifle levelled at her head. Any sane person would have raised their own weapons… and taken the shot. Shepard raised her rifle… but she wasn't necessarily sane… and tossed it. End over end it spun towards the Geth, until –
Crack!
It struck the machine knocking it to the ground, but before it could get up –
Crunch!
Shepard slammed a fist into its chest –
Crunch!
A second following the first –
Crunch!
She continued to crush it –
Crunch!
Blow after blow –
Crunch!
Until… Silence… the dust settled, and Shepard looked up. Not a single Geth remained, and the Husks lay about lifeless. Getting back to her feet, snatching up her battered rifle on the way, she turned round to find –
Two shell-shocked Marines.
A bushel of slack-jawed Farmers.
A dozen Geth in various stages of dismemberment.
And over fifty twisted Husks, lying prone at her feet.
It was sometime around this point that she realised that most – if not all – the Husks had been ripped limb from limb… by hand.
Whoa… haven't let go like that in a loooong time, thought Shepard cheerily, seemingly oblivious to the carnage around her.
She turned to look over her shoulder at the Tram-Station, seeing that it seemed to be clear of enemies she marched cheerfully over to it.
Almost wistfully she called back over her shoulder to her Squad saying, "Come on team, the Beacons not goin' to secure itself."
Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams by default respected her Commanders; she was polite and differential to her Superior Officers and without preamble saluted anyone who out ranked her… and since she was a Williams that meant just about everyone. And up until about a minute ago she did it, because… well… uhm, that was how she was raised, damn it! That was – of coarse – until she saw her latest Commander in action…
She had been picking off the Drones strafing their position, which she'd been keeping off their backs since the beginning of the fight. She blew away the last wave of drones, when she heard something that made her blood run cold…
Kaiden had stopped firing; she spun around to find him slack-jawed with his Shotgun dangling from limp fingered hands. She ran up to cover him, cresting the hill, preparing to drag him into cover when –
She looked over and saw the Commander.
She was need deep in Husks and advancing calmly.
She was blasting away any Husk that got in her way.
She was advancing – nonchalantly – down the hill toward the Tram-Station.
She seemed oblivious to the suppressive fire raining down around her.
And by God… She was single-handedly kicking their collective shinny-metal-asses!
She was single-handedly driving them back, forcing them back into the Tram-Station.
And then something changed, she charged her form wreathed in swirling dark energy. Her Biotics blasting Husks apart, bits and pieces of the cybernetic undead being flung around like confetti on the wind. A sphere of energy surrounded Shepard as she sprinted through the horde, until –
Thrummm… Wham!
Bits and pieces of both Husks and Geth rained down across the field when her Biotic Barrier exploded. Her Rifle kept roaring – never stopping for a second – tearing apart anything that got in her way. Any enemy that got in her way, she Biotic-Slapped them out her way… and if they didn't, she crushed them with a glowing armoured boot. She kept shredding anything in her path until –
Click-Sssssshhh…
Her gun jammed, at which point… well… she got a little bit more unorthodox…
Not missing a beat… she flipped her Rifle round and smashed the Butt into the face of the nearest Bot.
From then on it was an all out Biotic-Brawl.
She'd rip one Bot limb from limb, and give another a beat-down with the pieces.
She just kept wailing on the poor Bastards, and Ashley actually started feeling sorry for them.
Until –
"Come on team, the Beacons not goin' to secure itself."
It was at this point that Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams decided that an extra ration of ass-kissing – in this specific situation – might not be a bad idea – seriously. She elbowed Kaiden in the ribs, breaking him out of his nearly catatonic stunned stupor, and raced down the hill following the commander. She didn't even notice the stunned farmers standing behind her, as she raced to keep up with her – very scary – Commanding Officer. She sure as hell wanted to remain on her Commanding Officers slightly less scary good-side… and as far away as possible from her truly terrifyingly psychotic Bad-Side.
Shepard led the way toward the Tram-Station – with two slightly shell-shocked Marines trailing in her wake – and directed her Squad to form a Tactical-Stack at the base of the ramp.
She mentally chuckled at the looks on their faces, after she let her hair down – metaphorically of course – ahh… Classic.
Maybe she was a tad bit desensitized by all the violence, but what could she do… that was how she was trained…
Find the Objective, and Complete it.
Isolate and Eliminate any and all obstructions.
And go wherever you have to, to do it.
That's what N-School taught her; at least that's what the Alliance Grunts called…eh-hem, 'Interplanetary Combative Training' bloody hell… they make it sound-like something that would require you to adjourn for Tea and crumpets, afterwards. To the graduates… it was called the 'Villa'; to those who failed… it was called Hell. To Shepard… it meant rebirth, she went in a shattered and broken, and came out an N7. She went in a nervous wreck, that jumped at her own shadow, when she came out… now that was a whole different ball-game.
Everyone who went to the Villa came out with something different… some people came out bigger and meaner – some people just came out scarier. The rest? You couldn't tell what they got out of it. They came out of N7-School looking like accountants and marketing executives, but that didn't mean they didn't come out… different. You could see it… if you'd been through the same thing. You could see it in their posture, relaxed like a coiled spring. You could see it in the looks they gave you, casual and calculating. It was the way they dissected you with their eyes, taking you apart piece by piece, and if you lived to tell the tale of meeting a N7-Graduate, then… they probably thought you weren't worth the effort of killing.
Now what did Shepard get outta the deal? What she got was; Reflexes and Situational Awareness, that were honed to such a degree that it was almost instinctual, this allowed her mind – in the heat of battle – to plot and plan while her body dealt with the immediate threats to her person almost subconsciously. Now back to the matter at hand…
"In position," called Kaiden, from the back of the Stack.
Shepard nodded, and led the Squad round the corner and onto the platform. The squad spread out and checked the platform.
"I got something over here," informed Ashley, indicating the Geth corpse on the other end of the platform.
From her place checking some crates, Shepard responded, "Kaiden see what –"
The words died in her throat, "Damn… it's Nihlus."
"Whose Nihlus?" asked Ashley as she approached the corpse.
"Our backup," replied Kaiden, a hint of anger seeping into his tone, "he was shot in the back."
Kaiden crouched down to check for the Turians vitals, while Ashley and Shepard moved to check the area. Finding nothing they stowed their Weapons as they waited for Kaiden scans to –
Click
In the blink of an eye, everyone brought up their side-arms, aiming them down at some crates near the end of the platform.
"Come-on out with your hands where we can see them," instructed Ashley, her voice slightly raised but easily carrying across the platform.
"D-don't shoot," came a rather reedy sounding voice, "I'm unarmed."
From behind a crate against a retaining wall, came a greasy looking dockworker with a grey knitted-cap.
"Who are you?" asked Ashley.
"Names-s Pow-ell… I work here," replied the man with his hands raised, he backed up a bit seemingly stumbling over his words and not – say – his feet.
Shepard advanced toward him, while gesturing to the corpse and not mincing her words in the slightest, "did you kill him?"
"No-o no, it was the other Turian," twittered the greasy little dockworker.
"What 'other' Turian?" asked Kaiden suspiciously.
"I don't know… I swear; they talked, your guy there turned his back, and his buddy shot him," replied Powell in a panicked rush.
"What do you mean 'buddy'," asked Shepard her temper rising, as it always did when dealing with shady looking 'civies'.
"They knew each other… your buddy Nitrus – "
"Nihlus!"
"Whatever… he called other guy er – I can't remember… something," Shepard pointed her sidearm at his skull, "Saren! He called the other guy Saren!"
"What now Commander… I've heard about this guy. Apparently he's dirty," asked Ashley, raising the topic of their greasy little civie problem.
"He's not our problem," she replied turning away from them.
Ignoring the pathetic dockworker, Shepard tried to raise the Normandy on her Helmet Comms, and… nothing.
"Damn, the signals being jammed," she turned back to the weasely little dockworker and asked, "Where's the Beacon."
"They mov-ved it to the S-space P-p-port, right bef-fore the at-t'ck," replied Powell in a rush, tripping over his words in his headlong rush to get this conversation over and done with as quickly as possible.
Just great, thought Shepard morosely, "okay let's move up and secure the Tram, team."
They moved to engage, the Geth holding the arrival platform and the controls…
+=Arcturus Station=+
+=Alliance Intelligence Agency Headquarters (AIA)=+
+=Intelligence Analysis Division=+
+=Traverse Sub-Desk=+
+=[042.183.M03]=+
+=[07.27.22]=+
+=[mark: +07.27.12]=+
Cecilia Grant was having a very long day, and it seemed to be getting longer and longer by the minute. She'd arrived this morning to her very quiet (read as very boring) desk in the Analysis Division. She's a surveillance analyst and electronic maintenance technician, which in lay-mans-terms meant that she organised the security VI's and watched endless streams of surveillance footage. Hours upon hours of them, and do you know what the worst part was? Nothing really happened on the planets she was watching, but that didn't mean she could stop… now did it? No she had to watch all of it, and then archive it… after all that she had to write a lengthy report about it… that no-one would ever read.
That was… until about twelve hours ago, when every cam and sensor feed – Planeside – had been cut, leaving her completely in the dark about the events on the Agri-Colony of Eden Prime. Then after thirty minutes of panic (within and without the Intel Division), her station and the servers connected to it almost crashed as they got a major backlog of data, when the data-lines came back online.
Someone had attacked Eden Prime.
That got her bosses attention, and they decided to – finally – put some more people on the Eden Prime desk. Sadly all that really meant was some more Analysts, and a bunch of winey Military Officers. No-one who actually did any real work, since they spent most of their time complaining that they didn't have enough data, and that their only surveillance Tech. – her – was (and I quote) 'Lazy'. So here she was – doing all the work – and going through all the endless hours of – usually corrupted – surveillance tapes, looking for – and I quote – 'a Giant Blue Alien Robot'.
Okay that was 'specific', she thought sardonically, perhaps I should send them all some links to a couple hundred hours of Japanese Anime that, that could describe!
So for the last ten hours, which in lay-mans-terms translates to about fourteen cups of coffee and a bathroom break, she had been going over hundreds of VI-cam feeds. An so far, besides a real need for therapy after what she saw, she got nothing –
Bingo!
She brought a small bit of footage from a Cam near the City Centre, and got… a single three-frame blur.
Not much, but I've worked with less…
She opened up her image recognition software on her Holographic Terminal; entered the Clip in to its digital chamber and fired off the search across the rest of the Surveillance Servers. And a minute later she got some results from the search of the servers…
A large blue shape charged toward some unaware Geth, flame bloomed around the muzzle of his Silver and Gold Cannon, and the Geth… they just exploded in a puff of smoke. The clip ended with the shape charging through the smoke and the flame and off screen…
Okay, four seconds, that was better than the last Vid maybe –
Her terminal pinged, and another Vid popped-up and began playing…
A dozen Geth are firing at something off screen, and then –
The three Geth in the centre of the formation… exploded.
The rest of the Geth are knocked down…
A blue blur speeds past the camera and out of the frame…
Okay that one was twelve seconds, but still that should be –
Again the same blue figure charged through – and over – a group of Geth –
Crunch
Never stopping toward an Armature, in a smooth almost fluid gesture, the blue robot took a silver-grey cylinder from his belt, and lobbed it toward the giant walking tank. As he speeds past the machine – there's a flash – and the screen cut-out…
… It?
Over the next two minutes she got at least another two dozen Vids of this… thing. And she could tell it was the same… Robot (?), according to her image recognition App. it has at least a ninety-six percent match to all the earlier images.
If the earlier footage – of the terrible things the Geth were doing on Eden Prime – required therapy, then this… this would need medical leave or a discharge at least. The blue machine – because that was all it could be – was methodical, every movement precise, not an ounce of wasted energy… brutal. In every Vid… its every move… led to the destruction of dozens of Geth… or those bluish-grey… creatures that followed them around. The Vid's were a litany of brutality; unadulterated violence, every Geth in them was either smashed aside, blasted apart, crushed under-foot, or ripped limb from mechanical limb. After a half hour of psychological trauma, Ms. Grant had, had enough…
Turning away from her terminal, she couldn't help but wonder… if there was a pattern to the Intel-Cam Footage. Pulling up a map of the locations of the Intel-Cams, she began to plot an overlay of the Cams that gave her footage of the giant, and what she saw was…
They led strait to the Space Port.
It was at this point that Cecilia Grant decided that this discovery was far, to far beyond her pay-grade, thus the decision was made for her… she decided to pass the buck up a few levels.
"Um… Ma'am, you gotta see this…"
+=Sergeant Sigmund=+
+=Eden Prime=+
+=Constant=+
+=Central Business District=+
+=[?.?.M?]=+
+=[?.?.?]=+
+=[mark: +32.31.00]=+
Crack!
Another broken Geth shell sailed through the air, only to land in a heap on the burnt ground disturbing the fine layer of glassed sand that seemed to permeate the very air. But before the glassed dust could settle, a large cobalt-blue stomped the rogue AI's torso into pale cybernetic paste. Grinding the sole of his armoured-boot into the dirt, Sigmund turned his gaze upon the scene of apocalyptic-landscape that surrounded him. The field that surrounding them was one big carbon-smear, it was filled with burnt out vehicles and the rumble the majority of which had once been part of a thriving district, less than an hour before. After a moment's introspection, Sigmund turned his attention from the devastation that surrounded him… to focus solely on the cause…
After several intense scans by his Auspex, some mental analysis of the results and multiple theoreticals of all the major possibilities, he could come to only one conclusion; the invading Xeno's were some kind of Soulless Machines of a – so-far – unknown origin. His analysis of their tactical and squad-deployment patterns, suggested some sort of either Hive – or Swarm – Intelligence. The greater their numbers; the more advanced and abstract their tactics became. They also seemed to have some sort of tactical data-net, through which their Commanders would – it appeared – attempt to co-ordinate their actions against him. Most of which were attempts to take him out at range, which would have negated his close-combat advantage, allowing them to bring their superior numbers to bear.
And then something happened… he didn't have the data to determine what exactly, but they appeared to no-longer care how many of their number they lost… they just kept throwing themselves at him. They were simply trying to swamp him with numbers, or so it seemed, which confused the Veteran Sergeant. Either they had simply given up and were in the process of a suicide-charge… or they were trying to delay him. The success of their latest tactic was laughable, in fact their current tactic allowed him to close into CQB far easier than before. He hoped they never learned that little to nothing could stop a charging Space Marine. He continued his onward trek… he could see the Structure of the Space-Port up ahead of him in the distance… just a few hundred meters and –
Pain… pure unadulterated… being channelled straight through his helmet.
Through the pain he realised what he was experiencing. He was struck by a sudden psychic pulse, which caused him to stumble and fall to one knee. The pulse had spiked through his already tormented mind, further aggravating his previous psychic injuries, and driving any rational thought that remained… right out of his skull. Eventually… gradually… the pain ebbed… like treacle… until, a semblance of normalcy returned. And just as his began to regain his sense –
SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
The heavens filled with a god-awful scream, his nerves already battered and blue, were torn red and bloody, by the screams of the damned. Their mournful wails seemed tinny and… fake, a synthetic facsimile. He turned his gaze heavenward as the chaos-black leviathan, wreathed in scarlet crackling lightning arching round its… twisted form. He watched it for several moments more, until the daemon of a ship lifted out of the Atmosphere.
Turning back toward the Space Port, at the very edge of his – now – limited Witch-Sight, and what was once a raging torrent… had died down to little more than a trickle.
Perhaps that's the Beacon, he realised mentally, some kind of xeno-tech… probably… they seem to have replicated the abilities of an Astropath… artificially.
Rising up to his considerable full height, Sergeant Sigmund, continued his inexorable charge toward… dum-dum-dahh!... his Destiny…
(Okay, maybe that was way too corny, so to be more specific, he… "continued his inexorable charge toward…" the Space Port.)
Upon a small hill, a little ways away from where Sigmund's journey had begun, sat an old and bent figure that was invisible… to most. His sight capable of seeing more than most, his gaze locked upon the Heavens. And so we have come upon the ethereal form of the Sigillite, whom turned his gaze from the giant soulless construct… once it had left the solar system. Seemingly satisfied with his mournful observance, of Death personified leaving this world, he then turned back toward the blackened City. His eyes inexorably drawn from his hilltop toward where he could sense the upcoming meeting of two giants that would shake the very foundation of the Citadel of Power within this Galaxy.
He focussed his mind upon the Space-Port, and crossed the material distance with a single immaterial mental step. He arrived in time to witness the final preparations, as the soulless machines set-up rows upon rows of their inexhaustible rifles, such things he had seen those automatons use before. He saw them set and activate a series of terrible world-killers, and he hoped… he prayed… to which higher power he knew not…that the heroes that were approaching this place of prophecy would arrive in time…
And there's Chapter 3... sorry if I didn't respond to all the reviews last time, I didn't check them until after I had posted.
I would like to thank Eipok, The Poarter and Ursakar; for their critiques, I honestly didn't think about the differences between 'sapient' and 'sentient'. To respond Ursakar's review(s), I felt that such a crossover could be done, and with the exception of your own Warhammer 40k / Mass Effect crossover which I thoroughly enjoy reading, the rest were however (not to be rude) poorly conceived. Yes Warhammer Tech pretty much thrashes everything in Fictional Existence (even Star Wars... probably... don't quote me on that), therefore we need to balance the Story, but simply out numbering the Stronger Force won't do... I have been contemplating writing this Story ever since the day I created my profile on Fanfiction, and what I hope to achieve is a story where the main OC protagonists can't simply muscle their way through the Story. For instance think about the concept of Collateral Damage, my handling of such a concept has been drawn from Novels such as "Know No Fear" by Dan Abnett, where one of the main non-Astartes characters is killed by the over-pressure of the Bolter rounds going off in close proximity too their position. That's not to say that a Space Marine would not kill everything when firing his Bolter, its just that he may choose not to fire instead. Also my setting should be taken into account, for those who are not aware (in contrast to the 40K Time-line) the Time before the Horus Hersey (approx. M31) was a Time of enlightenment and progress... were the Emperor openly rebuffed claims of his divinity by the Masses... as reflected in later Space Marine teachings with lines such as, "he was the greatest of us all... but he was still a man." For those of you who have read - some of - the Horus Hersey series you may have noted the references to "Prospero Burns" and "A Thousand Sons" in the Prologue and sprinkled throughout the following Chapters.
I plan to Re-Edit all Chapters posted over the December Holidays, at which point I can properly apply your advice to past works, in the same way I have applied it to the current ones.
I wish to apologize to Blinded in a Bolthole and any others I might have offended, for my attempt at Asari-Gender-Description, if not out-right confusion... for any and all offense it implied or caused. I had honestly did not think that it would cause offense, and will look to rectify it at the earliest convenience... Damn it now I sound like a bloody politician. I think that the best explanation for my own confusion came when reading Surfing into Mass Effect and Turning the Tide by BlackCat3978, where the main character stumbles over Asari biology to try and explain (sort of) that she isn't - well - Gay (see Chap 38, 39 or 40... I think). I sympathized with this character simply because I stumbled over my own attempt at defining Asari Biology.
Oh and please don't take any of these responses as Arrogance, I am well aware of my own limitations... for instance I would never Write a Halo or Deus Ex crossover because there are already such great Stories (by DinoJake and IgnusDei respectively) that are far better than I could possibly hope to write or even conceive. My hope is to fill a writing niche were there is little to no crossovers or Characters (like funny Space Marines)...
Finally for those of you who like to fact check, you will most likely find some discrepancies a bit later on in the following Chapters, most probably the Time-Line. In my research I found things to be a little contradictory and therefore to buy time to explain and untangle a myriad of conflicting facts I have extended the period of the Crusade by a few years. However it will still be roughly over two hundred years long, and I may or may not release my slightly AU timeline at a later date.
Thank You for Reading
Next Update will be on: 31/10/2013