A/N: Thank you for your patience. I wanted to get this exactly right. I'm pretty satisfied with it, but as always there could be improvements! Please let me know via PM or review what you think could have been different!
~o~O~o~
Whomever had planned the attack had done it well. The 5th fleet was on its usual patrol, angling one direction then another in an amorphous loop. The attack had occurred just as the 5th fleet was scheduled to make an outward loop on the farthest leg of its circuit; it had been just random chance that had brought the SSV Agincourt in for a surprise visit.
"That freighter just launched a round at Elysium, I don't care if it's the size of a grain of rice! Shoot it down!"
Navigator Pressly hurried to comply, formulating a probability cone and feeding it to the VI controlled GUARDIAN laser batteries. The frigate was designed for this kind of work, the rest of the six-vessel fleet in a wolfpack formation.
"Sir, we got it!" he shouted back at the captain.
The captain gave a victorious whoop. "That puts us ahead of the Hastings, what's our kill count?"
Pressly shook his head. "The Hastings, the Coral Sea, and the Iwo Jima have been using our targeting data. I can't tell how much damage we've done without them."
A growl emanated from the Chair. "How about total damages?"
The navigator checked his board. "Looks like we've lost only minor functionality on our side, but destroyed or crippled over 150 enemy ships, sir. Mostly modified freighters and transports."
The captain nodded acknowledgement. "Tag 'em and bag 'em."
Pressly bent back to his work, constructing another firing solution. They were the only shield between Elysium and a pirate-directed Armageddon. Whatever was happening on the ground, they could alleviate that much at least.
~o~O~o~
Shepard fired, ducked and fired again. The slavers had approached the city walls within an hour and were trying to breach it.
Artillery behind Shepard belched flame periodically, hurtling projectiles overhead. When they impacted, the ground vibrated under everyone's feet.
The fight hadn't been bloodless. Another pair of shuttles had hurtled into civilian areas, killing dozens. Civilians fought fire almost as much as slavers at this point, but no one stopped.
The odd thing was that the slavers were organized at all. General mercenary work required cooperation, of course, but slavers inherently didn't cooperate. More people involved meant the money was spread around more. The smaller the crew, the bigger the payoff, even if the payoff was less certain. What had gotten so many slavers to cooperate, even on such a rich target as Elysium?
A squint poked his head out from behind a crashed skycar, sighting down an assault rifle at the wall. Shepard took a breath, held it and squeezed. The round crushed the batarians rifle on the way through his heart.
His section of the wall had held back the slavers handily so Shepard had sent defenders to other segments less ably defended. The walls were durable, constructed of some of the best materials known to Alliance and Council space. All they needed were people on top preventing anything from coming over.
Just out of Shepards range, another slaver fell, courtesy of the snipers set up by Shayna. They focused wherever the fighting was hottest, or when they had an easy shot.
Almost as if in mockery, the turian Shepard had been fighting alongside for the past hour fell, part of his shoulder missing.
"Medic!" Shepard called out.
A pair of humans hurried with a stretcher out from behind a chunk of fallen masonry. Carefully they administered a dextro- based sedative and rolled the turian onto the pallet.
"Sir…I can still fight…." the turian feebly tried to push back as the sedative kicked in.
Shepard grasped the alien three-finger hand. "You've done enough. Rest easy brother, we'll take it from here."
The turian tried to salute with his off hand. Shepard returned it with as much respect as he could show, holding it until the stretcher bearers gently carried the soldier away.
Then he resumed his vigil, scanning both his HUD and the landscape, looking for the sniper that had done this.
His search was interrupted by the whistling crump of a GUARDIAN tower.
"Sir!" his comm went off. "We got the virus out, the towers are back up!"
An explosion lit the evening sky like a second sun, well outside the city walls. High-velocity rounds made their own sonic boom trails, intercepting the slower shuttles well before their designated targets.
A woman standing near Shepard started laughing hysterically at the carnage. "Get 'em! Shoot 'em! Don't let any of 'em leave alive!"
Concerned, Shepard made his way over to her. "Ma'am, do you need some medical attention?"
The woman in question laughed harder. "They're dead…all dead…can't help them now…"
Shepard carefully slipped his hand onto her pistol. "Maybe you should check if the medics have everything they need for now."
She grimaced. "They wanted to give me some kind of pills. I told them I had to fight…had to…had to…" her face crumpled.
Shepard caught her as she fell. "Medic!" he called again.
As the volunteer helpers ran up, an ungodly shriek cut through the air.
All eyes looked up, tracking a shuttle that had one of its engines damaged. It crossed the city in an eyeblink, missing all of the towers, but hitting the wall. The wall was never designed for such an impact, let alone from the inside, and tore loose like a used MRE wrapper. Just like that, a stable situation reversed into chaos.
There was a distinct pause, then a roar of victory from outside the city. There was a howling snarl as trained varren loped through the gap, followed by infantry.
Shepard leapt off his position and sprinted towards the hole. The two krogan were already half-way there, shotguns coughing storms of metal to meet the slavers. The younger krogan managed to grab one of the varren by the jaw, and hurled it overhand back at the breach. The elder shifted aim slightly, hitting the lizard-dog, then shifted back at the slavers.
"All available backup, south wall!" Shepard yelled. "Get me whatever you can, however you can! Seal the breach!"
Stella's voice came over the channel. "We have reinforcements shuttling down from the frigates, where do you want them?"
"Put 'em down behind our line, tell them to come out hot!"
It was blind scrimmage for an interminable amount of time. Shepard didn't have time to use the rifle, he was using the pistol and as many tech attacks as humanly possible. One overload took out a turian slaver's shields, two shots took his life. The krogan were as much a weapon as the actual weapons they carried. Their weight and experience utterly crushed the unwary and maimed the careful.
"We're activating the jumper mines!" someone shouted.
A deceptively innocent series of pneumatic plinking sounds echoed throughout the battlefield. Most of the Elysium defenders flattened themselves, covering their heads. Some, of course were unable, or forgot.
Spheres about three inches in diameter flew upwards from the ground. About two meters off the ground, they exploded, sending white-hot shrapnel crashing in all directions, just about at head height. Screams of pain erupted from those standing. The uglier sounds were of gurgling, choking.
Shepard rose to his feet, pulling his knife in his off hand, pistol in the other. Around him was…nothing. Then his ears caught up, high-powered assault rifles? There were a limited number of those in Elysium…unless there was yet another cache in that Haribon warehouse?
An Alliance Marine in full armor strode confidently past Shepard. His arms held a large assault rifle steady, fresh lead spitting into the fight. Another marine, a giant of a man, grabbed Shepard by the shoulder.
"Arvid?"
The helmet slid open, revealing the cheerful face of the Russian. "You didn't think we'd leave you on your own, did you?"
Shepard slapped his friends arm weakly. "I just didn't want to share all the fun!"
Arvid raised his own assault rifle one handed and let off a burst. "It took a while to clear enough room topside to move the shuttles around, but I finally collected enough marines to make a dent down here."
"Well you can certainly lend a hand!" Shepard pointed over to the makeshift repair shops. "We have a few Makos over there, and some Mantis gunships ready to head out."
Arvid whistled sharply, making a few gestures. "That will make this a lot easier."
Marines in all directions pelted for the sheds. A few climbed over a lower retaining wall, headed for the gunships.
"How many did you bring?" Shepard asked.
"Oh, only around two, three dozen. Maybe four if you count me."
The deep rumble of an armored vehicle revved, sounding more like the wrath of a wakened monster. The Makos rolled out, pausing while marines scrambled aboard.
Behind the protective enfilade, the gunship engines whined into a higher pitch. Blinking lights started appearing against the twilight sky.
Arvid turned to Shepard. "You want in on this?" he asked.
Shepard grabbed his rifle and jogged towards the nearest Mako. "Just try and stop me."
~o~O~o~
The Makos roared through the recently cleared opening, flattening a few of the invaders in the process. The militia closed the gap behind the tanks, moving rubble into a makeshift barrier.
Outside the wall lay a panoply of contrasts. Fields stretched across the horizon, grain waving with the fresh scent of ripe harvests in the wind. Craters in the fields broke the smooth lines with blackened soot and the scent of charred flesh. Farmhouses, abandoned in the flight for the city, had smashed doorways and pristine walls. Windows were broken, glass clinging to the window frames like stalactites from a horror film. Fires burned everywhere, turning the night sky into a sullen red; harvest season had just begun, and the fields were as dry as tinder. Automated safety drones lay were they'd been shot, leaking hydraulics and extinguisher foam.
And, of course, there were the slavers.
Shepard manned the helm while Arvid took the minigun. Another marine took the heavy gun, and the three worked like a well-practiced team. When Shepard spotted a cluster, he knew where to drive. The gunners didn't need him to pander to their style, they kept their eyes on the target and blew it away when the opportunity arose. Nothing stood in their way.
Then, trouble arose.
A salarian, two humans and a batarian stepped directly in the Makos path. Each held a child hostage, maybe ten years old.
Shepard slammed on the brakes and vaulted through the back seats to the exit hatch. A relief marine shuffled into position for another driver.
One of the humans brandished a pistol at the childs' head. "Just tell everybody to get out of the Mako! My buds and I are taking it!"
"And the kids?" Shepard had a hard time controlling the boiling fury he felt. Externally, he probably looked calm, but inside….
The batarian snarled. "They come with us. Better some profit over no profit. Either they live as slaves, or they don't live at-"
A small circle appeared in-between his top set of eyes, just as a gun went off.
Shepard was surprised, whoever had fired risked a childs life. A moment later, he wondered why the shooter had stopped. Then, Shepard realized he was holding his pistol…without thinking he had fired from the hip. Before the other slavers moved he fired again, hitting both humans in the throat, the salarian in the shoulder. When had he gotten so good? He hadn't even been aiming, just thinking about location. A throat shot on a human was a death blow; on a salarian, it was more of a slow-death, their blood had enough oxygen to keep the body moving for a few minutes afterwards. Shoulder shot took out the gun arm, leaving the children free.
They took immediate advantage of their changed situation and ran for the Mako. Arvid slid out of the hatch and grabbed all of them at once in his powerful arms, simultaneously hugging and hauling them inside.
That left Shepard with the gasping slaver.
Shepard felt the fury coalesce into ice. Paradoxically he felt feeling a warm sense of self-approval at the same time. Most krogan let the fire in their veins make their decisions; and had reaped what they had sown. Humans could go either way; but Shepard was an unusually cold case. One of the major points on his psych evaluation had recommended officers training simply because he could shut down emotional responses until they were needed.
This was needed.
One shot, between the eyes.
"Get back in, we'll keep going." Shepard heard the marine driving the Mako. Its engine rumbled hungrily.
He had to pause, thinking how to verbalize his logic. "No."
"Sir?"
Shepard straightened. "I am a Level 7 graduate of the N7 course, and a Lieutenant Commander. This is an order, those marines with decent scouting skills go on foot, weapons free. The slavers are watching for the Makos and will either keep hiding, or try taking hostages again."
He noticed something he hadn't seen before…blood. And bodies…without armor. Some of the bodies were wearing torn clothing. Deep inside, his predatory instincts roared at this double affront, sending the rage deeper.
"Relay a message for me." Shepards voice held all the arctic chill of bleak ice fields. "Tell the Agincourt 'no mercy.' And if they ask where I am, tell them there are some animals out here that need putting down. I'm going hunting."
Arvids voice came over the headpiece. "I'll join you."
Shepard shook his head. "No Arvid, guard the children, coordinate the gunships when the scouts get out here. And if any of those bastards show up, make them suffer."
There was a pause as Shepard sent an image of what he'd seen.
"Understood." Arvid couldn't voice what he thought, there were children with him. But his tone was as cold as Shepards own. Anyone who approached the Mako had better either be with the Alliance, or very, very lucky.
~o~O~o~
Gunships wheeled overhead, searchlights stabbing into the darkness. The ominous deep roar of the Makos grew louder and softer as they picked up civilians…and dealt with slavers.
Shepard took it all in as he stalked his prey. This night reminded him of another night long past. He'd been the victim then, and in similar ways he was a victim now. But this time…he was able to do something about it.
His earpiece buzzed silently, updating with new information every few minutes. The city was safe, for now. The combination of GUARDIAN towers and accompanying Trident fighters had successfully repelled the latest aerial attack. This latest suicide attack had larger ships involved, which meant the slavers must have been growing desperate as time dragged onwards, or were growing short on expendable shuttles. They'd planned on rifling through a shocked city by now, not continuing to engage in siege warfare.
This caused frustration in the slavers. Their quick assault had deteriorated almost beyond recovery. Already Shepard could hear shuttles whining in pre-flight checks, either preparing to carry disappointed passengers back to their fleet, or for another drop-ship style attack.
Disorganized frustration. Emotion. Chaos. All of the potential elements for sniping were present, except a definite target. Generally, a sniper was sent out either to destroy a specific target, or perform reconnaissance. Without either, the general idea was to destroy as much as possible, as often as possible, adding as much chaos as possible. The incredible range of a sniper, combined with the stealth used, made this what was known as a force multiplier. One sniper could have a greater effect on the enemy than a dozen marines.
Shepard sighted on another slaver, checking his HUD. Before the advent of higher technology, snipers had to work in pairs; the rule had been NO ONE sniped alone. Now…it was just him, his gun, and his target.
This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. The old creed ran through Shepards mind. The trigger clicked, the muzzle boomed, and the target vanished.
My rifle is my best friend. It is my life. I must master it as I must master my life. Another target popped into view. Obviously an officer of some type, browbeating the more intelligent but lower ranking mooks to get into the open. His head vanished into a fine dark-purple mist in the infrared mode.
My rifle, without me, is useless. Without my rifle, I am useless. I must fire my rifle true. I must shoot straighter than my enemy who is trying to kill me. I must shoot him before he shoots me. The mantra ran through Shepards mind as he ran crouched to another position, this one over another farmhouse. A gunship had been kind enough to give him a lift from position to position, and this spot still had living farmers.
My rifle and I know that what counts in this war is not the rounds we fire, the noise of our burst, nor the smoke we make. We know that it is the hits that count. We will hit... This time a full vehicle was the target. It was about 700 meters away, within range, and obviously headed for the farmhouse. Whomever was in the farmhouse was obviously aware of the danger. Its lights were out, and a wild shot fired from one of the windows.
Shepard breathed in, focusing on the engine block. My rifle is human, even as I, because it is my life. The old Grizzly rumbled closer, turret spinning to fire on the house. Thus, I will learn it as a brother. I will learn its weaknesses, its strength, its parts, its accessories, its sights and its barrel. A shell landed past the roof, intimidation tactic. I will keep my rifle clean and ready, even as I am clean and ready. We will become part of each other.
The rifle spoke—once, twice. Shepard waited a few seconds as the rifle cooled, feeling his rage cool slightly with each shot. The Grizzly shuddered to a halt, then whined to a higher pitch. Figures tumbled out, running for their lives.
Shepard found them first. Each life he took served to assuage the fury freezing his heart. The Grizzly exploded, the fuel igniting mortar shells inside, causing a roaring explosion muted only a little by the distance.
So be it, until victory is the Alliance's and there is no enemy, but peace!
The farmhouse opened a crack, a hunting rifle extending out the crack. "Hello…? Is someone out there?"
Shepard resisted the nearly frantic urge to fade back and find more targets. These people needed help.
"Hello the house!" he called, safely out of sight.
The gun jerked. "Whoever you are, git offa my land!"
Shepard walked slowly into sight, rifle conspicuously folded on its mag-clamp. "My name is John Shepard. I'm with the Alliance."
The rifle pointed squarely at Shepards chest. "How do I know you're not some pirate pretendin'?"
Shepard jerked his thumb at the smoking Grizzly. "Pirates often shoot up their own valuable hardware, do they?"
The farmer considered that a moment. "Good point. But I'm protectin' more than just me'self, so your pardon if I don't just take your word."
A young voice piped up behind the farmer. "Are they gone Daddy? Did you get 'em?"
The farmer disappeared. "Git back under the table, whatch want to git your tomfool head blown off?"
"Sir?" Shepard called after him.
The farmers outline appeared behind the screen door. "Yap?"
"I can call in support, give you a ride to the city. It isn't safe out here for little ones."
The farmer sighed. "You're shore right about that. I got the neighbors kiddos in here, tried to get him to stay, but the damn fool won't take my protection. I admire his pride, but sometimes a man's gotta eat a little humble pie, if only for his family."
Shepard gripped his rifle. "Which direction? I'll call a gunship and be there before you can say "knife."
The rifle extended out the door and pointed south. "Bout three kilometers thataway. Right where them heartless bastards landed. I figure he's either…" the man paused, remembering his audience… "either hidin' or runnin' as fast as he can thisaway."
"Wait…" he added as Shepard turned to run. The farmer cautiously stepped outside his door. When nothing took a shot at him, he took another step, then walked out to meet the soldier. He held out his hand.
"I reckon we owe our lives to you. Tell Earl that Ted Kosin said he's as muleheaded as his tractor, but not as smart."
Shepard shook the farmers hand. "I'll do my best Mr Kosin."
The farmer loped back to his door. "Call me Ted. Stop by for a spell, once this excitement is over. My wife makes the best preserves in the Verge."
Shepard waved and took off running. Three kilometers was no distance for a conditioned Alliance Marine. As he ran, a gunship landed behind him, and small bobbing lights confirmed the safety of at least one family.
~o~O~o~
The next farm was buried beneath rubble. Nothing could change that. The one beyond that, however, still had a few walls standing. Pockmarks scattered across the walls, generally around chest height. Shepard snorted at that. Amateurs. Professionals fired at the pelvis; break that and the target was easier to kill, or run from.
He paused and analyzed the pattern again. On the other hand, the trained method for a non-charging target was a classic spread, two to the chest, one to the head. These definitely had that appearance.
A faint scraping sound triggered his training to take over. Shepard dove behind cover, then scanned the area. The sound didn't repeat itself.
Shepard scanned the area. Nothing was actually in place, so spotting what was out of place was the difficult part….except for the foot sticking out from behind a fallen wall.
Checking for traps, Shepard pussyfooted his way over to the extended limb. It wiggled slightly, indicating life.
Shepard pushed away some of the looser rubble, finally catching the largest piece and heaving it into the night. Beneath was…a very injured man.
With a soft exclamation, Shepard dropped to one knee, scanning with his omni-tool. Multiple fractures and extensive contusions covered the mans' body. Multiple medi-gel shots were required to even bring the man back to consciousness.
"Where….where are they?" the man asked.
Shepard checked his HUD. "Nowhere near us. Who are you?"
The man groaned, trying to move his leg. "My….my name….is Earl."
Shepard smiled. "Well, Earl, I have good news for you."
"What?" the man was definitely interested, despite the broken leg.
"Your kids are safe; Ted Kosin said to tell you you're 'as muleheaded as your tractor, but not as smart.'"
Earl chuckled, then winced. "That's Ted all right."
Realization forced the injured man into a sitting position. "Wait, Elysium, have they attacked yet?"
Shepard laughed. "They've been hitting the city all damn day. Only made one dent, but we're holding."
"No! Now! They had…" Earl coughed…deep from his chest…"bodies. Dead people. Live ones too. The slavers found a bunker and couldn't open it, so they blew it apart. Took the bodies…brought them here."
Shepard went still. "And?"
Earl hacked, he'd definitely be needing hospital treatment. "They cut 'em open like butchers, said they would get 'em into the city. They all left about two hours ago."
Instantly Shepard tapped his comm system. "Arvid, respond!"
Arvid came back strong, gratifyingly quickly. "Go ahead."
"Recall all mobile units, get every last soldier, volunteer and civilian back inside, and send a gunship for me. Now!"
"Understood." Arvid didn't bother signing off, changing channels. Soon, Shepard could hear the Russian barking orders out.
Shepard helped Earl up, and the two staggered to the top of a nearby hill. Soon, they were picked up by another Mantis gunship.
"Pilot, do you know if this boat has an arms locker?" Shepard asked.
The pilot, a teenager by the looks of it, pointed aft. "I saw something in the back, had an Alliance seal on it though."
Shepard found the trunk and popped the seal. Inside was the standard equipment for Alliance aerial assault, including the specialized hardware for the different unit type armors.
"Sir!" the pilot called out. "Elysium is under direct assault!"
"Did the Makos' get back?" Shepard called back. He was busy snapping together more hardware.
The pilot listened for a moment. "Most of 'em sir. Last one got caught in a grenade launcher attack, but the crew and passengers got out and in though."
Shepard unclamped his sniper rifle. "Get me over Elysium. Hover if you can."
The pilot grinned, popping his knuckles. "They have rocket launchers, but they haven't hit me yet."
The gunship roared over the countryside, flashing past ground vehicles and dwellings. Within a short amount of time, they could hear the coughing roars of grenade launchers, and the answering explosive retorts of artillery.
Another gunship rose to meet them, then spiraled away upon recognition. Miniature incandescent fountains sprayed from its lower chassis as it turned on the perimeter, scattering a few slavers. A side-panel opened, rotating out the rocket launcher, emitting a few blasts on the assailants.
"This good sir?" shouted the pilot.
Shepard waved him higher, he needed an accurate view of the situation. The tactical maps the omni-tools projected weren't good enough, not with the software civilians had on their omni-tools.
The gunship soon reached an altitude on par with the skyscrapers and hovered, turning slowly in place. Shepard searched for as far as he could see, and it did not look good.
Somehow, the slavers had managed to get an armored column past the breach. Explosives, by the char markings. Now they were rolling through the city, blasting in all directions, infantry racing to both keep up and pacify resistance.
On the outside edge, more infantry with heavy weapons were destroying more of the wall, creating a larger chasm to cover. The militia was doing a valiant job covering the gap, but the Alliance marines were pinned down by several, well covered, Grizzlies.
Shepard made a snap decision. "Arvid, can you hear me?"
"Loud and clear bossman."
"Take out the heavy weapons, get that hole blockaded if you can. I'm sending a gunship to help with the tanks."
"That's a roger. Anything else, maybe a cup of tea?" As always, Arvid was lighthearted most in battle. It kept morale up, of nothing else.
"Affirmative, once the marines are clear, send a squad back into the city. They have tanks and troops running through the commercial district, headed to the residential section. I'll need the backup."
Arvid was an N7. He knew Shepards capabilities, but some things, if only for proprietary sake, needed to be said.
"Shepard, are you insane? That's a whole column!"
Shepard sneered playfully. "What, slavers? I destroy problems like them on my way to real problems."
The line was silent for a moment. Then, "Good luck Shepard. You'll get your backup asap. And Shepard?"
"Yeah?"
"The kids are safe. Got 'em in the bunker before the lead started flying."
Earl on the floor groaned. "Great, let me outta here. Man was never meant to fly, get me to my kids. Eat lead, potato, how do I taste Moby? Do I taste good?"
Shepard looked at the pilot, who shrugged. "Medigel reaction?"
The gunship shook as its barriers were hit. "What happened?"
The pilot flicked his hands through the haptic interface. "Rockets, sir. Orders?"
Shepard finished with the buckles. "Head back and get the coordinator free. He'll give you directions."
The pilot looked up at a sudden rush of wind through the vehicle. "What are you doing, you crazy?"
Shepard had opened the side panel and stood backwards to it. He grinned. "No, I just visit there." And let himself fall.
~o~O~o~
It is a little known fact that all Alliance soldiers are able to make short jumps from air to ground. The shields built into the hardsuits they wear are designed to decrease the descent rate in a sudden altitude loss. In a pinch, it turns a Kodiak crash into a potentially survivable event, instead of a pile of highly trained yet flat protein.
But Alliance command had wanted more than basic survivability. Each soldier type had their own unique style, and their armor was tailored to that uniqueness. Front-line soldiers were given upgrades that improved the shock of landing, allowing for hard-and-fast insertions with minimal recovery time. Engineers were given a high degree of electronic interference gear, using their airspeed and altitude to interfere with enemy positions.
Biotics were given less of an advantage because they already had one, being able to alter their effective mass. This allowed them to do almost anything the other branches could do, and allowed the space dedicated for hardware to instead have a high-energy nutrient drink. Few complained, calories were hard to come by in a firefight.
Infiltrators, on the other hand, had been given upgrades that enhanced stability. A sniper was able to "hang" in midair, observing the terrain with minimal turbulence.
Shepard felt the stabilizers he'd installed from the gunship activate. There was an instant of rushing wind, constant noise blasting past his ears. It felt…natural. A calm feeling, even for new people; the difficult part was actually stepping out into nothing.
The world stopped spinning, and Shepard unshipped his rifle. Far below, he could see the armored vehicles churning their way towards the residential sector. He could also see the snipers high on the towers, taking out infantry one at a time.
From his temporary vantage point, Shepard could observe a few slavers counter-sniping the nests. He adjusted his fall rate to as slow as possible and memorized the location of several targets.
Adjusting for rate of descent and distance drop was not difficult, since he had to aim almost straight down. The first shot blew him off course, however. With nothing to brace against, Shepard drifted sharply to the left. He adjusted, of course, and fired again, blasting his course askew again. He had time for one more shot, hitting the engine block of the lead tank before his gun overheated, and his course led him to land rather harshly on the side of a building.
The world went gray around Shepard as his armor countered the impact. When he could see, the center of his vision focused on a blue hand held out to him. He grasped it, hauling himself to a standing position.
Shayna grasped his hand firmly. "'Tis good to see you again, and at such a timely basis."
Around them, a mixture of humans, asari and salarians clambered along the heights, taking occasional shots at the slavers below. On their part, the slavers were making excellent usage of cover to shoot back, or hiding beside the nearly invulnerable tanks.
Shepard took it in at a glance. "You've done well," he noted, "but we need a ground presence to drive them back for good."
Shayna grimaced. "Indeed you speak true. But the bulk of our forces are tied up at the wall, preventing more hostiles from entering. None of us can challenge these slavers on the ground, they have far too much firepower."
Shepard checked his shields, they'd finished recharging. "Don't you know," he stated casually, "that it's poor sport to tell a human something is impossible?" and for the second time in ten minutes, jumped.
This time Shepard aimed for morale, not as much for strategic effect. His shield managed to pull double duty, deflecting several potshots as well as getting him lower. The boot guides worked overtime to keep him stable, since Shepard was firing more constantly. The thunder of his rifle served as both a warning and a signal of doom; what Shepard aimed at, he hit.
Slavers started turning to see what the matter was; they saw a dark shape falling from the sky with bursts of flame surrounding him. When several slavers dropped, the rest scattered out into the open, anything to get away from the avenging angel.
Shepard flared his stabilizers, landing on both feet, one fist planted for balance. Shots pinged through what was left of his shields, digging furrows in the armor.
The snipers above did their best to cover him. His stunt had flushed out a dozen mercenaries, nearly all of which were now one with the universe.
Shepard stood tall against the slavers, letting them get a good look at him. Then he turned and ran like the wind.
~o~O~o~
The bunker in the Residential section for that part of Elysium was well built. It had gunports, bay doors, a few turret emplacements and blast doors designed to keep out artillery shells.
However, it was not often used, only maintained by a dedicated crew that lost funding as peaceful years followed, one after another. To wit, only two turrets worked, mostly facing the wrong direction, and the doors stuck. Scared men and women stood behind the jammed doors, listening to the approaching gunfire.
They saw Shepard, running as only an N7 operative at the height of conditioning could run, leaping over parked skycars and dodging obstacles as if he'd been doing it all his life. He actually had, if you thought of the obstacles as dense bushes and trees.
Behind him the reluctant guardians spotted charging mercenaries. Assault rifles spanged shots off debris next to Shepard, the occasional pellet sparking blue off his shields.
The woman in charge of the holdout watched, then realized what she was doing.
"Cover 'im!" she screeched. Her voice wouldn't have shattered glass, but it might have caused it to go off in a corner and reevaluate its purpose in life.
Gunports slid open and deadly metal gleamed through the shadows. A deadly fusillade, mostly inaccurate, but terrifying in volume poured out of the apertures. Shepard slid to his knees between two skycars and huddled under the twin protections of bad aim and limited fire angles.
The mercenaries behind him were caught completely off guard, several fell screaming while one actually lost his throat to a lucky shotgun blast. The rest scrambled for cover.
Shepard crawled out on his knees, hands raised. "Alliance Marine, coming over!" he called.
A voice shouted back. "More coming, stay down!"
Shepard instantly ducked back. More fire came by his head, farther this time as the panicked volunteers got their nerves under control.
The more practiced mercenaries started finding targets in the bunker, but there were many people who did not want to die as slaves. Humanity as a whole still held an incredible amount of respect for freedom, and held such a deep set cultural loathing for slavers that it was nearly a genetic trait.
Shepard didn't know what to do; on the one hand the civilians were putting up a good fight, keeping an outpouring of fire that forced the attackers to keep under cover. He was safe enough under cover, at least until someone potentially blew up the skycar. On the other hand, the slavers were well practiced at pacifying resistant victims. They must have felt confident, for they started yelling insults at the civilians, promising retribution for making so much trouble.
One insult in particular caught Shepards ear. It was a male voice, rough and spoken with the familiarity of a non-native speaker.
"When I get my hands on you, I'll do to you just like I did that bitch on Mindoir!"
Time stopped. The last two words echoed around Shepards' mind like a bad dream. On…Mindoir…. On. Mindoir. On Mindoir. OnMindoirOnMindoirOnMindoirOnMindoirOnMindoir. For a moment, he was stunned. Memories flowed through his minds eye, nightmares from countless nights, images of demons dragging away friends, seeing his family while on his knees their blood staining his face and hands. Hours on the firing range visualizing the spiteful faces on the targets…the love and farewell of his parents.
The rage he'd controlled, buried, for the past several years, yet felt on the plains a few hours back returned with a roar, redoubled in fury. Normally, Shepard controlled his anger, used it to go just a little farther, hold out a little longer. Now, he discovered anger was good for more than just a skill boost.
In an eyeblink, Shepard swung around the skycar, targeted a four-eyed monster and sent a bullet straight through the shields and into the skull. The next batarian received the same fate.
Shepard moved smoothly, no clumsiness evident. His rifle boomed out like the gavel of justice, mangling another slaver so badly his own kin wouldn't recognize him.
The rifle beeped overload; without pausing Shepard dropped the rifle and drew his pistol. He fired it continuously, driving back mercenaries under its assault, draining shields. By the time the pistol overloaded, the rifle had cooled down, which he picked up without looking, firing it from the hip through another slavers throat.
Faces and voices from another era went through Shepards mind.
Jims' dark blue eyes looked seriously into his son's. "I'm taking point because I have the most experience. Deal with it."
Shepard rounded a corner, meeting a pair of batarians with shotguns. He dropped to one knee, scything the other leg into the slavers ankles. His knife came out from nowhere, slashing through femoral arteries.
"They're after slaves, not just stuff." Nadia looked scared.
The next corner held a turian slaver. Shepard charged him, red tinged vision focused on nothing but the mismatched armor and a slowly rising gun. Before the turian could finish moving, Shepard was upon him, grasping the Turians head-fringe and lower mandible, twisting.
The neighbors' daughter Talitha was pressed against the window, an expression of pure terror on her face. Her daddy was out there…she could see him….
Shepard had no idea where the roaring sound was coming from, but it seemed to terrify the small men before him. He redoubled his pace, trying to beat whatever was frightening his prey. Three had scattered for cover to one side, the rest had bunched together running for cover.
Instincts were in the fore, actions taken by muscle memory. A grenade flipped from Shepards hand soaring across the street. Even as it flew, his pistol cleared leather, slamming itself into his palm barking an angry vengeance on the three cowards just as the grenade detonated. Body parts flew past, ignored.
Jim cursed under his breath. "Damn it, they got the Larsons."
A full squad showed up ahead of the Marine. His long-distance shots flashed around their feet. The slaver stood their ground, however. Their target was the madman chewing up their soldiers, organized counter-fire would kill him.
"Mother…wanted me…to tell you…we…love you." Jims' eyes closed, slightly smiling at his son.
Shepard rolled across the ground behind a concrete berm, growling deep inside his chest. He threw another grenade in a high arc over the top, following it with a pair of glistening tech based mines. He popped up behind cover and triggered a burst, ducking back to re-equip his rifle. An explosion rocked the earth, followed by electronic whines. Coming out rifle first, he saw what was left of the squad scattering again, shields down, some falling. He made sure the rest of them fell, spacing out his shots with animal instinct.
~o~O~o~
Shayna directed her daughters to fire on the street behind them, just as a squad of slavers bulled their way through the resistance. She didn't bother warning the other snipers; she could easily stop their advance herself. A few of them noticed, however and fired, missing in their haste.
Just as Shayna drew a bead, an explosion blocked her sight. Confused, she lowered her rifle, casting her eyes wider. A lone human knelt behind a barrier of some kind calmly taking down the slavers with lethal efficiency. Even as she watched, he put away his rifle, drawing a pistol and a knife to deal with a pain-addled batarian at close range. They sparred for only a few seconds before the batarian was down clutching its shoulder.
Shayna paused for a moment, watching the human. He was running as if possessed, yet fully capable of deadly precision. From her vantage point she could see another pair of slavers, human this time, coming at an angle around the next street.
The lone fighter stopped just prior to their rounding the corner, firing even before the slavers had turned. They couldn't help their momentum and ran straight into the storm, dying within moments.
That was not common ability, Shayne knew, that was the result of decades of training, or maybe years for a singularly gifted salarian…she hadn't seen anything like that outside of the Commandos though. Maybe the STG, when they'd condescend to train with the Commandoes for a short time.
More gunfire jarred her back to the situation. What looked like a small platoon had entrenched itself in a small building, but had left themselves vulnerable to a rear assault. Shayna saw a flicker of movement, then recognized one of the Marine detachments that had recently made planet fall sneak behind the shed. A few seconds later, blasts of fire punched through the roof, collapsing the entire building on itself and all its occupants.
Satisfied that the human had found reinforcements, Shayna flared her biotics to float her over another rooftop. Her daughters circled, moving along on other buildings, maintaining a distance that maximized their overlapping fields of fire while minimizing their exposure. She smiled proudly. She was certain that someday her daughters would eclipse her own formidable combat prowess.
Noticing a few targets, she redirected the two salarians under her command. Like all of their kind the salarians had been quick on the uptake, mastering the more difficult aspects of tactical positioning in a matter of hours.
Her attention was drawn back to the scene below. The single male Marine had outrun the marines behind the felled hut, scattering shots at a fleeing slaver. She shrugged and went back to her duty.
~o~O~o~
Dim shouting finally reached Shepards consciousness. He could tell it was past midnight, the lack of a moon allowed a full view of the brilliant stars very possible. The Big Dipper was in a completely different configuration, but its component stars were still visible. More visible were the ethereal rings that glinted against the velvet black sky, hints of dawn barely detectable to the east. For the first time in a long while…it felt peaceful….
A marine in full combat gear pounded to a halt by Shepard. His eyes were wide, taking in the trail of destruction behind Shepard. "You all right Lieutenant-Commander?" he asked.
Shepard had to think about the question for a minute. All the rage he'd felt, the anger so deeply buried, was no longer so strong. Not gone, it would never be gone, but it was…lightened.
"Yeah…" he muttered. Then stronger, "Yes, thanks soldier. I'm doing fine."
A full squad of marines approached, Arvid at their lead. "Thought you were going to chase 'em all the way to the retaining wall, boss." he joked. His eyes, however, were concerned.
Shepard tried reassuring him. "Don't worry about me, Arvid. You know I'm far too stubborn to get downed by one of these squints."
Arvid made a show of looking around Shepard. "So it would seem."
With a start, Shepard realized where he was. For the sake of the soldiers grinning at him and resetting their pieces, he didn't allow a visible reaction, but when he looked at himself….he was…blood stained…all along his left side. The knife he always carried was strapped to his leg, but the grenade he always taped to it was gone…and the handle looked scraped. More dents and pockmarks were evident on his armor…and yet he had only a vague memory of what had happened.
Reality kicked in.
"We have more to do before this night is over." Shepard barked. The marines responded to the tone, assuming ready positions with professional speed. "Lock and load, move 'em out."
Arvid leaned over as the men and women shouted agreement and flooded towards the retaining wall. "You always wanted to say that, didn't you." He said, eyes twinkling. It wasn't a question, just a statement.
Shepard shrugged. "The world may never know."
~o~O~o~
To the invaders, this was the last straw. They'd been promised easy slaves, even counting a hard and expensive assault, and this had been anything but. Their ships were being systematically destroyed from orbit, their best effort in taking the city had failed miserably, and all they had was their backup plan.
"Commander." Captain Feyn Meyca was glad to see the superior officer. "They're setting up something.
"Let 'em." Shepard strolled along the wall, music throbbing above, letting the enemy see him, but more importantly letting the civilians see him. He noticed some of the civilians had cameras…damn. Front-page news was not how he intended to finish out this day.
He caught his train of thought. "We have a lot more bullets if they want to try another rush, but this time I suggest we let the tanks handle it."
A shout from outside the walls garnered his attention. "Wonder what that is?"
It turned out to be a batarian with some sort of megaphone. While that was not unusual, he had a line of human civilians behind him, each with a captor holding a gun to his or her head.
Shepard twitched, almost reaching for his rifle, but he managed to still the angry beast struggling against his ribs. It was a struggle, but the beast responded to his touch now, no longer blindly unleashed.
"Human!" the batarian shouted. "I know you're up there! Quit hiding behind your walls!"
Shepard waved from his position. "The only hiding here is being done by your cowardly scum. Drop the hostages and I'll consider letting you live."
The batarian flushed…although it was hard to tell. Batarian skin always looked flushed. "Surrender or the prisoners get it!" he yelled back.
"El-See?" murmured Arvid.
Shepard looked out over the prisoners. More were gathered in a large group just out of assault range, several slavers pointing weapons at them.
"Contact Captain Meyca. Tell him to get the gunships moving on a precision strike, southeast; after they're in position, all units fire at will." Shepard muttered.
Theatrically, he turned to face the spokesman. "And what guarantee do I have that you won't kill all of us?" he called back.
The slaver lifted his megaphone, gesturing at the prisoners. "You don't. I have the slaves, I'll kill them before I let you take them. And if you don't surrender, I'll kill them before I kill you!"
"Bold words from slime that can't even make good on his threat. You say you can kill me? I dare you, kill me now!" Shepard flung both arms outward in an inviting gesture. A shot missed his head by a small margin.
"That the best you can do?" Shepard laughed at the furious slavers. "I've killed hundreds of your kind in the past few hours alone, probably more. I've killed thousands of slavers in the last couple years. And you think you can bandy words with me? Get your boss, his retarded monkey shouldn't be trying to negotiate."
The roar of gunships blasted whatever the batarian was trying to say. Five Mantis gunships dropped out of the sky, mini-guns firing on the slavers. Marksmen in the missile bays took precision shots, taking out triggermen. In return, the slavers fired indiscriminately, at least until they met their fate.
A Marine contingent, led by Arvid, charged out the breach rounding up what prisoners still lived…although many might not have wanted too. Shepard had once told his friend what batarian slavers did to their slaves, how implants were shoved into their brains for controlled obedience. Engineers under Arvids' command deployed scrambling devices, blocking the slavers commands while shuttling the prisoners back into the city. Some could be saved…others…would be avenged.
The slavers rallied, pushing again. Somehow they'd gotten their heavy weapons wielders close enough to the wall to force the defenders to stay down most of the time. The Makos covered the breach from safety, small arms fire bouncing off their thick armor. Every time the slavers made a concerted effort to charge through the gap, the Makos coordinated fire; anything that made it through the withering barrage was taken down by angry milita support.
Shepard leaned back against the protective lip of the wall. He was still angry…but somewhat gleeful as well. On his own, he'd never have been able to gather all those prisoners, and the batarians had done it for him.
That made him chuckle.
The two krogan were nearby and heard him. The elder bared his teeth approvingly, nudging the younger. "See, some humans can get it," He rumbled. "Others are surrounded by targets, getting shelled, have a weapon in their hands, and keep whining. This human," he nodded towards Shepard, "sees the opportunity."
Shepard didn't bother correcting the krogan. There was something to what the krogan said…when the odds were stacked, you could get the most kills.
Using that line of thought, he jerked above the wall, and fired three times. Dropping back down, he pulled up his omni-tool and tapped it. "Three shots," he gave his best carnivore smile to the krogan, "three kills."
Both krogan laughed, throwing their heads back. The smaller one with red markings stood, scorning the incoming fire hitting his shields. His assault rifle thundered to life, spitting lead at the gathered slavers.
As he fired though, an unearthly roaring noise gradually grew, overpowering even the barking detonations of grenade launchers.
Shepard looked up tiredly. What he saw looked downright heavenly.
Dozens of Kodiak class shuttles flew in formation, deafeningly loud. Mixed in the formation were Trident fighters; even from the distance Shepard was seeing, he could tell the Tridents were armed with Skull air-to-ground missiles.
A welcome voice came over the intercom.
The media liaison shunted a new call over to the Marine commander. She didn't need to ask if he wanted to hear from this man.
"Lieutenant-Commander, this is Anderson. Here comes the cavalry, son."
A second voice broke through just after the Captain. "Hey Shepard, Karl here. I have around a thousand missiles ready for deposit, where would you like to bank them?"
Shepard laughed aloud. "It's good to hear your voice Captain, we've been holding out down here. Can you tell Karl to trash the slaver shuttles? They're parked about ten klicks out of town."
Shepard stood, raising both arms skywards. Startled defenders caught a glimpse, then saw what he was staring at. Contrails spiraled from the lightening sky, exploding into the slaver ranks.
The victory yells only grew from there.
~o~O~o~
The militia and civilians cheered uncontrollably as shuttles swooped into the city, depositing squad after squad of Alliance Marines. The marines themselves were in action mode, ignoring the crowd mostly, securing the area and rushing medical supplies to where it was needed.
Further out in the fields, explosions erupted into clouds of grey smoke. Shuttles that had made it into the air clumsily tried avoiding the Tridents, but few actually made it to space. Those that did make it were unable to rendezvous with their motherships…the entire 5th Fleet had arrived, fresh and angry.
Relief crew came down on the second wave of shuttles. Engineers from the first wave had set up medical facilities with a skeleton crew, which were filled out by the second wave. They were needed. Thousands of civilians were hurt, hundreds killed. The emergency response teams from the city were nearly all exhausted. While some had volunteered for the militia, others had stayed back and made foray after foray through live fire to help the wounded. A full thirty percent had urgently required medical attention themselves, none would escape without scars.
The result was a bloody disaster for the slavers. An initial body count placed the number of dead slavers on Elysium at over ten thousand, an unheard of amount for a raid. The previous highest known number of enemy participants for a raid had been nine thousand, counted during a Krogan raid on a turian colony. That colony hadn't survived, and its name was erased from everywhere, except for the history files. Of course, the total number of enemy participants on Elysium had been higher than ten thousand, an estimated three thousand managed to escape and fifty vessels managed to escape via the Mass Relay, despite the best efforts of the Fifth Fleet and the SSV Agincourt frigates.
Despite the escaped slavers, the final death toll for enemy combatants was eventually settled at above twelve thousand slavers (and slaves brought with them), four hundred and thirty two vessels and two dozen ground vehicles.
The defenders of Elysium had losses as well. Hundreds had been killed in the initial suicide shuttle attacks; one of the shuttles managed to make a direct impact on one of the civilian bunkers. The first two levels had collapsed, crushing the inhabitants.
Of the thousands in the Elysium militia, a full one hundred and thirty-three had died defending the walls. Half of those had given their lives holding the breach until Shepard and the Marines filled the gap in their last enraged charge. Five volunteer snipers had died, a testament to the capable leadership of Shayna, the former Armali Commando. Ashe'd already been offered a defense contract, but had turned it down.
Between both sides, over five hundred thousand rounds were fired, not including grenades, rockets and mines. Not a single Trident fighter had been lost, although one of the A-61 Mantis gunships had been shot down.
The Governor had apparently recovered, but had elected to stay out of the command structure during the fighting. His Lieutenant had survived the fighting, and was tried on the charges of aiding and abetting slavers, treason to the Alliance, and engaging in criminal actions. He was convicted on all counts. Somehow, on his trip from the sentencing to the holding cell, he managed to obtain a sidearm and tried to escape. His attempt was short lived in every sense of the word.
The farmers were able to return to their land, and although many fields were destroyed, there was more than enough to supply both the capital and the off-planet contracts.
~o~O~o~
The collar itched. It always did. No matter what Shepard tried, the dress blues had an itchy collar.
There were, of course, cameras. Lots of them, to match the huge crowd, so he had to maintain his composure and avoid allowing his face to twitch…despite the irritation of an itchy collar. And boredom at political glad-handing. He left politicians alone while he worked, why couldn't they leave him alone while they worked?
Captain Feyn Meyca was out in the audience, a knowing look in his eyes. Was that a smirk?
With a start, Shepard realized the current speaker was turning to get him up to the podium. Captain Anderson, as his immediate superior was beckoning with a small box in his hand.
Shepard put on his Best-And-Brightest face on and kept his shoulders back. No one liked seeing a slump-shouldered soldier. All soldiers had to be tall and broad-shouldered. Why not a skinny lethal soldier? Why couldn't it be anyone but him?
Admiral Hackett, representative of the 5th Fleet stood next to the podium and nodded sagely. Shepard was somewhat assured, the Admiral was a wise master of conflict, in multiple theatres.
Two rows of Marines saluted as he walked up to the microphone. Arvid, at their head, winked.
Hackett waited for Shepard to salute, then returned it with the speed and grace of a much younger man. First, he spoke to the crowd in his gravelly voice, extolling the virtues of Elysium. Next he spoke to the Marines, complimenting them on their holding action. Finally, he turned to the audience and really looked at them, not just roving his gaze over individuals. His steel grey eyes blazed with an ancient fire.
"Lieutenant-Commander Shepard has been an exemplary soldier, a comrade-in-arms with whom every man and woman in the Armed Forces would be proud to serve. His record, from the first day of enlistment has been a series of remarkable achievements. He is one of the few enlisted soldiers to be recommended for the ICT courses, and the first soldier to achieve all seven gradations within two years."
"Shepards dedication and character have protected humanity since before he joined the Marines. On Mindoir, before he even reached the age of majority, he personally guided Marine rescue forces. Tragically, most of Mindoir was lost. But Shepard still saw the value in defending the helpless, in standing vigilant guard over those who could not fight on their own."
Shepard swallowed hard. He avoided looking at the vid panels overhead, depicting various actions during his service. One of them showed the cemetery on Mindoir, Anderson had been decent enough to warn him ahead of time.
Admiral Hackett made a ninety degree turn to face Shepard, clicking his heels.
"Lieutenant-Commander, for your actions in defending the colony of Elysium, for your spirited defense and capable leadership in the worst of situations, you are hereby promoted to the rank of Commander."
Commander? This wasn't in the script….
But Admiral Hackett wasn't finished. After pinning the insignias on Shepards shoulder (shaking hands for the cameras), Hackett stepped back and waved down the audience.
"In addition, it has been decided by a unanimous vote, that further honor be given for the Defender of Elysium. Therefore, it is with great pride and even greater satisfaction, that I award you the Star of Terra."
Captain Anderson stepped forward smartly, holding up the opened velvet box. Inside was the Star of Terra, a gold five-pointed star on a platinum circle, hanging from the middle of a gold chain. A phrase from Ancient Latin was etched in the center: virum honoratum foederis. To Honor a Hero of the Alliance.
Hackett and Anderson stepped back and saluted. The crowd, already cheering, increased the volume. Someone still had control of a few loudspeakers on the walls, and started pumping a celebratory music list. Farther down, the Marines acted like undisciplined children; Arvid and Karl flung their formal-wear hats skywards.
Captain Anderson caught Shepards eye. The older man smiled. "Well done, Commander."
~o~O~o~
"So, what are you going to do next?" Karl asked.
The combat engineer lounged back on an expensive table. Shepard winced at the thought of potential damage to mahogany shipped from Earth. Being housed in one of the most expensive hotels on Elysium was nice, but…frightening.
"Soon as I can, I'm getting off Elysium." Shepard answered. "What about you guys?"
Arvid had his feet up on a footstool, "I'm staying on Elysium. The local Alliance post needs some looking after, what with the damage it took from the Blitz, and I can help."
"Yeah, and that chica you've been seeing has nothing to do with it?" Karl teased.
Arvid flushed. "Tanya's just needed a little help settling back in, she was really shaken by that slaver squad."
"And your blundering in with a grenade and accidentally tripping her, then falling on her before the blast has nothing to do with it?" Karl kept his voice poisonously sweet.
Arvid changed the subject, "What about you Shepard, you ready to settle down?"
Shepard shivered. "It's been…offered…." he returned. "Offering" was a minimal description for some of the messages sent his way, not to mention the invitations…. "but I'm headed out for my next mission in a few days."
Karl sat up sharply. "What? Where?"
Shepard smirked. "Need to know basis."
Karl mock-scowled, flinging an orange from a nearby fruit bowl. "Come on, you can tell us."
Arvid looked up, interested.
Shepard sighed. "Just a reconnaissance run…through some kinda rough neighborhoods. Apparently my ability to survive has gotten me…attention."
Karl grinned. "Look out, someday you're going to be famous, Commander Shepard."
It was an interesting thought, Shepard had to admit. The title didn't sound too bad. Not bad at all.
A/N: All right, that wraps up this story. I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to view, review and comment on this little story. I would especially like to thank Drussius for introducing me to this site, and for helping me realize the importance of perfectionism.
I'd like to thank Fainmaca, for getting me engrossed in a story and showing that long isn't bad :)
And I'd like to thank Evelsant93 and addtheletters for their encouragement. Writers thrive on comments :)
I will be working on an Akuze section, as a standalone work. After that...I'll take suggestions to heart, maybe an Urdnot Wrex, Bounty Hunter run? Honestly, school will keep me busy, but I always have time to type a few sentences at the end of the day.
Thank you, and farewell...for now.
V-rcingetorix