4. Already Gone
When she arrived in-system amidst a blaze of light, the Normandy was greeted by a riotous display of electromagnetic radiation from the G-class sun that gave life to the Hera system. The frigate engaged its stealth system, masking her own EM emissions but, given the sensor-scrambling nature of the solar activity, any ship in the system was as good as invisible. This sobering thought was not lost on the Normandy's commanding officer. Of course, given the vast distances involved in space flight, a ship would have to relatively close for its crew to get eyes on a target. Of course this worked against the Normandy as well. If there were hostile craft out here, they could almost pass each other by without noticing.
"Hera colony, this is SSV Normandy," Joker spoke into the comm, already knowing it was a wasted effort. From the moment the frigate had exited the mass relay into the Aurion system, it had been bombarded by a storm of electromagnetic radiation from the local star. Sunspot and solar wind activity were at peak levels and the waves of radiation washing out from the star made even relatively short-range comm traffic impossible.
Waves of static crashed through the comm channel, sounding much like the oceans of the planet below crashing against the shores.
Hera was a world extremely similar to Earth - large blue seas and oceans covered over half of the globe and the rest was dominated by large continents and countless island chains. The atmosphere was an almost-perfect match to Earth's as well. Minus the layers of smog and the ungodly large hole in the ozone layer. Along with Eden Prime, Hera was a paradise of a world. The only thing that detracted from its charms was the teensy little issue about its proximity to the Terminus Systems and the ever-present threat from pirates and slaver bands meant colonist enrolment was low. This was despite spin doctoring from Colonial Affairs on Earth trumpeting about the 'frontier spirit of adventure!'
"I say again, this is the SSV Normandy, colony, please respond."
Joker touched a finger to the comm system, "Commander, I got nothing. It could just be the EM interference but..." he trailed off.
"The unscheduled arrival of an Alliance frigate should have sparked some response from their defence grid," Shepard responded from her place in the CIC. Once more she stared into the space beyond the galaxy map, as though she could divine a reason as to why there was a complete lack of response from the colony that didn't involve a total massacre at the hands of batarian raiders. Absently, she rubbed her left hand over her injured shoulder, feeling the dull ache there. Storm had really done a number on her, she thought, a rueful smile tugging the corners of her mouth upward.
This was going to be problematic, she mused. The comm system of the Mako lacked the signal strength to be able to punch through the background radiation in order to contact the ship, effectively cutting off the shore party from support. She could order the ship to ground at the colony spaceport, which would make establishing contact between shore team and ship easier but the thought of leaving the Normandy so vulnerable left Shepard cold.
But, unable to think of any other workable solution, Shepard left the CIC and left to brief her marine squad.
---
Private Paul Fredericks sits at the mess hall table, poring studiously over an English to Russian phrasebook. The Private wears a look of intense concentration, and the tip of his tongue protrudes slightly from the corner of his mouth.
Off to one side, Williams and Hailstorm observe him quietly. "What is he doing?" Williams asks quietly as Fredericks lips move silently. Storm shrugs slightly and steps over to the table to find out. Williams falls in behind her.
"Fredericks?" Storm asks. The private puts down the book and and turns to her, "Da?" he asks, which Storm knows means yes? Secretly, Hayley prides herself on being more than a pretty face. After all, one doesn't reach the rank of First Lieutenant and be able to hack encrypted systems by being the stereotypical dumb blonde. Also, her breasts aren't nearly large enough for her to pass as a blonde bombshell.
"Whatcha doin?" Williams says next.
His ready supply of fluent Russian apparently exhausted, Fredericks replies in English, "I'm learning Russian, Chief."
Storm nods as though this makes perfect sense to her. It doesn't. Widespread use of universal translators mean most people don't bother to learn to speak a second language fluently. Or even a first one. Still, being able to converse without the means of a translator is well regarded.
"OK...why?" Williams asks. Truthfully, Fredericks has never struck her as the kind of person to actually bother himself with learning a second language. Unless it's to learn how to ask "Where's the nearest whorehouse?" in five different languages.
A goofy-looking grin appears on Fredericks' face as he explains. "You seen some of those Russian girls, Chief? My God! Those Eastern European chicks..." he shakes his head as his train of thought derails, most likely the result of him picturing himself bowling over young Russian ladies with his masterful command of the language.
"So what you're saying is, you want to speak Russian so you can pick up chicks?" Storms says, eyebrows raised. Not that she's one to talk. In high school, she took French classes because the teacher was just so hot. Ten years older than she was at the time but still....
Fredericks nods enthusiastically, "Da!" he says and goes back to his book.
"Well, good luck with that," Storm says, fighting an amused smile.
Booted footsteps on metal decking ring out as their CO approaches from the CIC. "Good, everybody's here already," she begins as the marines present salute.
"Due to the extreme levels of EM interference, we can't raise the colony on the horn."
Storm nods; this is what she expected. Shepard continues, "Storm, your team," she gestures to include Williams and Fredericks, "Will drop in the Mako. Scout out the spaceport and when it's secure, we'll land the Normandy. I don't like the idea of parking the most advanced ship in the galaxy right where any raiders can find her but this interference will make ground to space comms impossible. So." Shepard shrugs awkwardly.
"Understood, Commander," Storm says.
"OK, dismissed," Shepard says, then, "I'm off to the medbay to plead my case to Chakwas. I'm finding out what's happening here, shoulder or no shoulder."
---
The Volkov sniper rifle Storm held in her slim hands was a thing of beauty, for those able to appreciate such things. Lighter than its apparent bulk suggested, the weapon's design included an integrated sound and flash suppressor, making it ideal for operations where stealth took precedence over ludicrously over the top displays of firepower. Which was Williams' and Fredericks' job in any case.
Deploying the weapon into its combat configuration, Storm looked it over and, finding no flaws, slammed a block of ballistic compound into the receiver before collapsing the weapon and clipping it to the hardpoint on the back of her hardsuit. Next, she took sidearm from its place inside her locker and repeated the procedure - inspection, slamming in of ballistic compound into receiver, clipping to hardsuit. A quick check of her omni-tool interface confirmed that her Mantis hardsuit was in full working order. Unsure what opposition to expect on the planet below, Storm removed a metallic grey ammunition case from the locker and keyed it open. From within she took an ammunition load specifically designed for organics and one for synthetics. "Something for every one," she murmured to herself with a smile and secreted the spare ammo blocks in her thigh pockets.
Finally, the Lieutenant attached a basic field med kit to her armour. The kit included several medigel injectors as well as bandages and a few units of saline solution. Though her initial training hadn't covered much in the way of the treatment of battlefield injuries, Dr Chakwas had given Storm something of a crash course in how to stabilise the wounded until a fully equipped medbay became available. In her spare time, Storm practiced giving herself intravenous saline injections. She shuddered at the thought - the whole needle in the vein thing creeped her out but she'd stuck with it and was now at the point where she'd actually trust herself to handle an intravenous feed in an emergency.
Storm closed the locker, after a final brief look at the holograph of her family affixed to the inside of the door and turned to the Mako. Gunnery Chief Williams and Private Fredericks were already there, leaning against the six-wheeled infantry fighting vehicle and talking in low tones. They straightened up and came to attention as the Lieutenant arrived.
Storm's eyes met each of theirs briefly, "We good to go?" They both nodded.
---
It's a clean drop and the Mako plummets to earth before a computer-controlled burn from the underbody-mounted plasma jets slow their descent so that, when they land, it won't be in messy pieces spread over a wide area. Worryingly, the spaceport seems completely deserted. There are no workers loading or unloading ships, and no marines on security detail either.
Surveying things from the command chair in the cramped cockpit of the Mako, Hailstorm observes, "The only thing missing is a windblown tumbleweed rolling across the landing pad to give this place the perfect aura of desolation."
From the crew compartment behind her, Fredericks blurts, "Guh?"
"Never mind," she replies as she shuts down the vehicle's fusion engine. With the engine off, the silence is near absolute with only the sound of a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of nearby trees. Storm unbuckles the five-point harness and hits the door release; the cockpit hatch sighs open on pneumatic struts as crew compartment door slides open with a metallic whine.
Quickly the shore team assemble at the front of the vehicle with weapons drawn. It's a picture-perfect summer's day here on Aurion - the sun is shining, puffy white clouds drift peacefully across the azure blue of the sky and the shore team's helmet pickups transmit the sound of birdcalls from the nearby trees bordering the spaceport.
The whole thing gives Hayley the creeps. Big time. There are no bodies, no burned-out buildings, nothing to suggest anything untoward has occurred here. It's almost as if...
"It's as if a black hole opened up and swallowed the colony," Storm says as she leads the squad away from the Mako.
Williams nods, dark-eyed gaze roaming across the landscape. Her hands tighten down on her assault rifle's grip and she makes a conscious effort to loosen her fingers. "I read about this old sailing ship in school? The Marie Celeste? It was found drifting in the middle of the ocean and nobody was aboard."
Storm frowns, "There has to be somebody around here. Keep your eyes and ears open."
"Roger that," Fredericks replies.
---
In low orbit over the colony, Shepard stood in the cockpit behind Joker's position. The frigate was operating in stealth mode, her emissions trapped within the sinks integrated into her hull. As far as anybody on the ground was concerned, Normandy wasn't even there. The high-gain digital cameras mounted in the ship's nose were currently trained on the shore party, zoom levels cranked to maximum, rendering the resulting image grainy and distorted but it was better than nothing.
Shepard watched the monitor intently, waiting for the all clear signal. Eventually, a brilliant green-white flare burst into being high above the shore team.
The Commander nodded decisively. "Take us down, Joker."
The helmsman nodded and with deft touches on his control consoles, brought the frigate around on an approach vector.
On the ground, the shore team finally saw something that, horrific as it was, provided some comfort in its familiarity.
"LT," Williams called out, pointing out something in the near distance. "Dragon's teeth."
Storm's mouth compressed into a thin bloodless line. The metallic spikes, used by the geth to impale people and transform them into cybernetic 'husks' had all retracted into themselves, a sign that the transformations had already taken place. "Dammit....OK at least we know what we're dealing with. That just leaves the small matter of where the bloody hell are the colonists?"
An inhuman scream answered her question at the same time as a number of red blips flashed up on the holographic HUD on the inside of her helmet visor.
"Contact!" Storm said loudly as several groups of husks, skin grey and withered and marked with blue cybernetic implants and circuitry shambled out from behind a row of low-slung storage buildings at the edge of the port. Something about the husks at the forefront struck Storm as off, even more so than husks normally were but she put the thought in the back of her mind as she fell into a firing stance and brought up her sidearm.
Williams and Fredericks opened up with controlled bursts of gunfire, felling several of the cybernetic beings and knocking back more.
Still the husks pressed forward, mouths gaping open and emitting groans and screams that made the hair on the back of the Lieutenant's neck stand on end.
"Williams," she called out as the squad fell back, "Frag grenade, now!"
Williams nodded and disengaged the safety on the assault rifle's under-barrel launcher. "Fire in the hole!" she yelled and launched a 30mm HE round into the midst of the husks. The grenade detonated with a crump, sending husks and dismembered body parts flying back. Williams pumped the slide on the launcher, feeding another round from the tubular magazine into the breech but for now, the area seemed clear.
Keeping her rifle trained on the bodies ahead of them, Williams flicked a glance at her HUD. "Negative contacts, LT."
"Good work, Chief. Cover me, I'm taking a look over here." Without waiting for a reply from Williams Storm crossed to where the closest of the bodies lay, flesh torn and shredded by the gunfire and grenade fragments and pulled up short. Unaware she was doing it, Storm shook her head in disbelief, attempting to negate what she saw before her.
The face of the husk had four eye sockets. The surplus pair were located in the high forehead above the others. Also the skin on this particular husk was a washed out brown rather than the grey she was familiar with. "Chief, Private, you wanna come up and look at this?"
Williams and Fredericks jogged up to stand beside Hailstorm and looked down at the body at her feet. Williams crouched down, frowning at the body.
"Is that..."
"Batarian?" Fredericks supplied. "No way," he breathed. Then, "Nyet."
"Da," Storm muttered without looking up. "God damned batarians and geth." Turning to face her subordinates, she reached up to the throat of her hardsuit, disengaging the locking collar. Storm removed the helmet and let it dangle in her hand by the chin strap, allowing herself to enjoy the breeze in her sweat-dampened hair. Batarians...the last time she faced them, things hadn't ended well. Her entire unit gone except for herself and Corporal Carver. Best not to think about that now. Putting the old feelings firmly back in their box in the far reaches of her mind, Hailstorm focused herself on the current situation.
"OK, here's what I think went down," she began. "The batarians show up looking to take advantage of the comm blackout and do a little smash and grab, right?"
The soldiers nodded agreement. "But the geth were either already here or showed up and crashed the party and, seeing no difference between humans and the four-eyes, thought, hey let's kill 'em all and let god sort 'em out."
Fredericks toed a nearby corpse, "This one used to be a Marine. It's still wearing parts of the hardsuit."
"So now we know what happened to the garrison," Williams said dejectedly. It was Eden Prime all over again only this time they'd arrived too late to save anybody. Feelings of anger and mounting rage built in the young woman and she fought hard with herself to maintain some semblance of control. Voice shaking slightly with suppressed emotion, Wiliams asked the LT, "Orders?"
Before the officer could answer, the very air seemed to shake with a roar as the Normandy flew low overhead like some immense bird of prey out of the mists of myth and legend. Expertly guided by Joker, the sleek craft paused above the spaceport landing apron, wash from the maneuvering thrusters blasting leaves and small branches from the nearby trees. The frigate settled to the ground and at once the loading ramp in her belly swung down, the lip meeting the landing pad with a gentle nudge.
Shepard strode down the ramp, in full armour, sidearm gripped in her left hand. From the set of her mouth and eyes as she approached them, Storm could see she was still feeling the ache from her shoulder injury. Dr Chakwas would not be amused.
"Sitrep," Shepard addressed Hailstorm, her keen gaze moving past the shore team, taking in the husks before returning to meet Storm's eyes.
"We got geth, Ma'am," Hailstorm replied, half turning to point out the mangled corpses behind them. "That and batarians." She nodded as Shepard's right eyebrow arched upwards in surprise; beyond that her face remained impassive.
"Come look at this," Storm led the Commander to the huskified batarians.
Shepard knelt before the body and looked it over for several seconds. "Bastards got what they had coming to them," she eventually said, voice flat. Straightening up, she surveyed the surrounding landscape, the gently rolling hills in the distance covered with forests, the highest peaks capped with snow. "Where are the geth themselves?"
"Unknown," Hailstorm said, voice betraying unease. Unknown variables tended to get people very dead very quickly.
Williams put in a suggestion, "Maybe they've already left?"
"Any sign of civilians?" Shepard queried, already knowing the answer. If anybody was around, the sound of armed combat should have roused their presence. Or maybe they were keeping well hidden.
"Nothing so far, they could be hiding out in those sheds over there," Storm nodded towards the nearest of the long, low-roofed storage sheds. From here she could see that the door controls burned a bright red, indicating the maglocks were engaged. So either the colonists had a problem with people looting their farm equipment or..."There might be people hiding in there," the Lieutenant voiced the collective thought.
Replacing her helmet and locking it into place, Storm faced the Commander. "Orders, Ma'am?"
Shepard shook her head. "I'm here strictly as an observer. I practically had to make a deal with the devil just to get Chakwas to let me suit up at all. I'll be monitoring things from the ship. I don't like to tempt fate but it looks as though this party had already wrapped up before we arrived."
"Something here isn't right here, Skipper," Williams said, feeling the fine hairs on the nape of her neck rise. "It's too clean. After the geth hit Eden Prime, there were corpses and burned-out buildings everywhere. I can sorta see the geth pulling out their dead comrades and the husks probably account for the marines but..."
Shepard inclined her head towards the buildings nearby. "Check them out. I'll return to the ship and monitor things. This close, we shouldn't have any problems with our comm gear."
Storm nodded and her troops fell in behind her.
---
The locked door of the building yields quickly to Storm's ministrations. As the door slides open with a slight rumble, voices from inside call out, "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! We're civilians!"
The corner of Storm's mouth quirks upward. "Well, I wasn't really planning to but thanks for the reminder." You've been hanging around Shepard for too long; her sense of humour is rubbing off on you.
The lights inside the storage shed are off and from the shadows emerge a man and a woman, both in their mid-twenties wearing jeans and light denim jackets. Storm notes the physical similarities between them - same dark hair and eyes and same stance and figures them to be siblings. The man wears several days' worth of black stubble on his face and Storm can see from the haunted look in their eyes that neither of them have probably slept in a while.
The woman speaks first and Storm notes the English accent, "You're with the Alliance?" Storm nods and the woman's slim shoulders slump as she almost collapses with relief. The man keeps her upright. "Thank God! When the solar activity flared up and the comms went down, we knew it wouldn't be long until raiders appeared. We thought we'd have more time to prepare though. The others got to the vault in time but we....didn't."
Williams speaks up, "Wait, vault?"
The man speaks next, "Yes, it's like a giant underground fallout shelter. In case of...you know."
"Total nuclear war?" Fredericks suggests. The civilians just eye him bemusedly.
The woman explains, "After Mindnoir and then Eden Prime, the colony petitioned the Alliance for funds to build what's basically a giant underground bomb shelter for just this kind of attack. We have supplies enough to last us for months, or until help arrives."
Storm's eyes widen as the full import of the colonists' words sink into her - the civilians were safe. And the Marines..."The garrison troops bought the colonists time to get to the vault," she realises, feeling sad for their loss. "Excuse me a moment," Storm says and turns away to comm Shepard. Even with the Normandy practically next door, the comm channel is filled with that crashing waves sound. "Shore party to Normandy Actual, come in."
Seconds tick by then, "This is Shepard. Go ahead, Lieutenant."
"We've found a couple of survivors and they tell us the rest of the civilians are holed up in a kind of underground bunker."
When Shepard speaks again, Storm can tell she's smiling her crooked smile, "Well praise Jesus and sing hallejulah. Hold position. I'll rendezvous in ten. Shepard, out."
Storm severs the connection as she turns back to the civilians, expectant looks on their faces. "That was our CO, Commander Shepard."
Even way out here in the boondocks of the galaxy, people have heard of Shepard's exploits and the civvies are all kinds of impressed.
"Wow," the man says. "I wonder if I can get her autograph?"
A/N: In case you can't tell, I've played too much Fallout 3. Though, I reason that if houses built in tornado-prone areas have storm cellars under the house, a colony in a batarian-prone area could have a bolthole as well.