Ellen fell to her knees, shaking. Her entire body screamed in a hundred different languages, her joints crying in protest from the effort of trying to keep from falling face first to the ground. Her spine felt like gelatin, and she'd already lost the back piece of her armor, leaving her back horribly exposed- burns already covered her skin from where the thresher maw's acidic spit had nearly claimed her life along with the armor she'd she in time- she was pretty sure she'd managed to save her pack; she hadn't had time to check, but surely the pack was fine. Dirt sweat and blood caked her hair and covered her face, and she kept spitting out blood, her tongue running over the gaps where she'd lost a few molars.
'No time to take inventory of your wounds, Shepard,' she admonished herself. 'Have to keep moving. Have to survive.'
Survive. It was something she was good at, even when everyone else around her lost their goddamn minds. Everyone had run around like idiots, not taking cover or making themselves less tempting targets as the monstrous maw erupted from the ground. She'd tried to scream at her comrades to take cover, but they kept shooting at the maw's thick chitinous hide and attracting attention. While they were picked off one by one, none of them even putting a dent in the monster's shell, Ellen had been trying to usher people to shuttles, to get them to safety. She'd managed to save a handful of colonists, but a lot of them were caught in the crossfire of the maw's acid spit. Reduced to puddles of liquefied human flesh and bones. Homo sapiens soup.
Ellen didn't even flinch thinking about the puddles the colonists had been reduced to. Maybe if she'd had a more delicate upbringing, she would have emptied her stomach's contents from the sight of flesh and bone melting before her eyes. The reason she had vomited earlier was nerves from trying to survive, frustration, fatigue and dehydration. Which, of course, she thought was a stupid reaction on her body's part- emptying herself of fluid when she was so close to collapsing from the strenuous exertion and constant strain on her systems.
She'd been charging from point to point when the maw moved to get a better angle from which to try to aim its acidic saliva at her. Every time she activated her biotics and forcing it into a powerful charge, she was using the momentum and speed to get herself to cover safely. The constant use of her amps was draining, and she hadn't eaten since that morning- almost six hours ago. She was getting weak, her biotics draining her physical energy. She had one can on her belt- a potentially life saving mixture of glucose and electrolytes- but she had no idea how much longer she'd have to keep this dance up before SOMEONE, ANYONE showed up.
'This is a damn Alliance colony,' she thought bitterly. 'The Council won't be sending help.'
She'd set off the distress beacon when signalling the last of the remaining colonists off with the shuttles that hadn't been damage beyond use, but there was no telling how far away anyone was that could help. She was on her own until reinforcements arrived, or until the maw grew bored and decided she wasn't worth the attention. Unfortunately, everything she'd heard about maws was that their simple minds wouldn't allow them to stop rampaging until they killed all possible prey in their territory, devouring them.
'I'm dead. I'm dead, I'm dead, I'm dead,' she thought, her mind slowly whirling to panic.
She slapped herself across the face.
"No. No goddamnit. This isn't you, Ellen Shepard. You don't fucking give up," she said out loud, straightening up and peering around the remains of a wall. The maw was still waving about, searching for her. She ducked back around and took a deep breath.
"Your ass is already on the line. The only question is, what are you gonna do about it?"
She popped the can off her belt, opening the dented canister and chugging the contents. She crumpled the can in her fist and set her jaw.
"Not gonna lose my fucking head. That's what."
She pressed her back against the wall, listening. The ground wasn't rumbling. She risked another peek and saw the maw focusing its attention on another building, shrieking and spitting at it, hoping to flush her out. She swallowed. She was running out of cover, and her shields wouldn't protect her against the spit of the maw- her missing back piece already proved that much. As if to remind her, her lower back gave a painful throb where the burns were. Ellen had used her remaining medi-gel on a colonist's child as she loaded them into the shuttle; there would be no relief for her burns right now.
The rumbling was starting again.
Ellen stared at the ground, willing it not to rise with the approach of the maw. To her horror, the blue tongue of the maw erupted right in front of her. She shrieked as it flailed in the air, scenting for her. She bit back her panic, staying still, to let it think she was going to stay there. The tongue withdrew, and the ground began to shake. Ellen glanced around for cover, and pulling on that burst of energy she'd consumed, charged towards another building, determined to hide inside it. With the sudden roar of soil and rubble flying around her, she didn't hear the whir of engines overhead.
She flung herself into the skeleton of the building, ducking behind a wall just in time- she heard acid splash on the ground where she'd been only scant moments before. She ducked and scuttled across the floor, moving to one of the far back rooms, putting as much distance between her and the maw's spit. A shadow flew overhead, and the backlash of engines knocked over one of the walls. Ellen yelped and tried to get out of the way, but her amps were drained, waiting on cool down, and she couldn't activate a charge to get out of the way.
A sickening wet crack sounded through the air as the crumpled metal wall teetered and fell on top of her.
Ellen's eyes went wide, breath knocked from her in one long agonizing scream that made her throat bleed. She screamed from pain and from panic- she couldn't feel her legs. She couldn't move them. She was paralyzed, and pinned beneath the wall. She screamed in agonized frustration, pressing her forehead to the floor, pounding the dirty broken tile with her fist. She'd survived so long, and she was going to die because a wall fell on her from-
Her eyes flew open. From a ship. She lifted her head and saw a sleek black ship flying over the maw, which was focusing its attention on the new intruder. Ellen watched as the ship fired its cannon at the maw, and with one clean shot, the head was blown clear off in an explosion of blood and other assorted body parts. Ellen pressed her face back to the floor, starting to cry silently. Tears ran down her cheeks and nose, dripping onto the floor. It was over. She'd lost all the other marines, lost at least seventy percent of the colonists, and possibly the use of her legs, but it was over.
The fight with the maw, anyway.
She hadn't recognized the ship as Alliance. It was small- certainly only big enough to hold a crew of fifteen or so. A privately owned vessel, but not of human make. She lifted her head and watched it land a distance from her. She wanted to move, to run towards the crew that had saved her life- she was quite possibly the only surviving person left. Two things held her back. The obvious being her back, which was most likely broken. The other being she had no idea who had saved her. It could be anyone. Council, Batarian pirates taking advantage of intercepting a distress signal, mercs- the list went on. She had no idea who had killed that maw, and whether or not they would continue to be a saving grace. For now, she just waited for signs of her rescuer.
After an agonizing ten minutes, she heard the sound of feet near her, just on the other side of the walls she had taken cover behind. The steps were careful, tentative and light. She was still, waiting for some more to go on. She wouldn't willingly be taken by slavers- or rather, killed by them; paraplegics were horrible sources of manual labor. The steps grew closer, moving into the next room, and she realized the individual knew she was close- they must have seen the maw looking in her direction, and surmised that someone was still inside.
"Is anyone alive in here? I mean no harm, I promise."
Ellen blinked at the odd flanging of the voice- a Turian! That didn't rule out Blue Suns, and she wasn't sure if the Turian hated humans or not. Still, it wasn't a Batarian, so that was a a start, right?
"O-over h-here," she gasped, realizing the wall was pressing against her far more than she had thought. She heard the Turian startle slightly, then move quickly into the room.
The Turian was tall, as most were, and his dark face plates were painted with bright white markings which were striking. Even more striking were the bright green avian eyes that looked at her with shock. Ellen made a weak attempt at waving at him, then lowered her head to the floor again.
"C-can't move my legs," she managed. The Turian opened communications on his omni tool.
"I need the doctor, a stretcher and a mech out here immediately," he rapped out. "We have a survivor with a collapsed wall on her lower extremities."
He moved closer and took her hand. Ellen lifted her head again, taken aback by the contact, and looked him in the eye. His mandibles flared gently as he tilted his head.
"Hold on. Help is coming. Are you wounded anywhere else?" He asked. "What's your name?"
Ellen realized he was engaging her in conversation to keep her lucid in case of head injuries, but she was grateful for his compassion.
"Lieutenant Commander Ellen Shepard, Alliance marine," she managed. "Took acid to the back, but got the armor off before I had any dermal corrosion. Just chemical burns, possibly second degree."
The Turian nodded and touched her forehead with his free hand, flaring his mandibles wider.
"Obvious exhaustion and dehydration," he commented to no one in particular. "How long have you been trying to stay alive? Are there any other survivors?"
"Six hours," Ellen said, closing her eyes. Had it really been only six hours? It felt like a year. "None of my crew are alive that I know of. I managed to get a handful of the colonists to the shuttles before setting off the distress beacon. The other shuttles were too damaged, not to mention most of the colonists were devoured in the chaos."
The Turian made a soft sound that Ellen couldn't read- maybe it was sympathy? She had very little interaction with Turians to know.
"I am Nihlus Kryik. I'm a friend, I promise, and you are a very interesting specimen of human, Shepard," he said quietly.
"Are you with mercs? Turian military?" Ellen asked. Nihlus shook his head.
"It's really just blind luck that my ship was in the area and found you when it did. Add to that your tenacity- something I haven't seen often in a human being- and I think you're damn lucky to be alive. As for who I work for, I'm a Spectre, Shepard."
Ellen blinked. She'd heard of the Spectres- Special Tactics and Reconnaissance- agents of the Council, but she'd never met one before. She'd always heard about them being cold, distant, and unapproachable. Nihlus, however, was seeming anything but.
There was a metallic clanking, and Ellen glanced over to see a Ymir mech making its way over, a Salarian following close behind with a stretcher hovering behind him. Nihlus got up and directed the mech.
"Easy does it, I believe she's fractured her spine in the lumbar region," he said as the mech took hold of the wall, lifting carefully.
Ellen let out a gasp of relief as the wall was lifted off her, and she braced herself for the worst. The Salarian made a small sound of satisfaction, and she looked up at him hopefully.
"Break may not be as bad as feared. This may be repairable. Surgery needed immediately. Can do operation in med bay," the Salarian said hurriedly, running gently fingers over the exposed skin of her back. A soothing sensation flooded her skin, and Ellen realized he was giving her medi-gel. Nihlus nodded.
"Let's get her to the ship. I'll send Kora and Argat to scout for any possible survivors as well as surviving data terminals while we tend to Shepard," he said as he and the Salarian shifted Ellen onto the stretcher.
Nihlus squeezed her hand gently.
"Don't worry. Doctor Taris is one of the best and knows the physiology and anatomy of every race, even Hanar. You're in skilled, capable hands," he assured her. "You've done your part. Time to recover, Lieutenant Commander."
Ellen glanced at Taris as he maneuvered the stretched back towards the ship.
"Um, this may sound weird, but...will the surgery leave a scar?" She asked. Taris blinked.
"Normally, yes. Procedure slightly invasive. Laser correction can smooth over scar after operation," he said. Ellen shook her head.
"Please don't. I want the scar," she said. Nihlus tilted his head.
"You want the scar? Why?" He asked, curious as he walked alongside the stretcher. Ellen looked at him seriously.
"Scars tell stories about a person's life, character and the choices that come with them. I collect them for that reason. I don't want to forget."
Nihlus was silent, then nodded, his mandibles flaring in what Ellen could only identify as a smile.
"I understand, Shepard. Don't worry, Taris doesn't have to correct the scarring."
Ellen nodded.
"Thank you, Nihlus."
Nihlus offered another Turian smile.
"Relax Shepard. You're safe now, and you did a good job. We'll have you back to the Alliance in one piece before you know it."
o-o-o-o
Ellen sat up in the bed, sipping at a drink, watching Taris scuttle around her like a hyperactive bumblebee, complying silently with every request he made. Lifting limbs, stretching muscles, following movements with her eyes, rolling her feet, flexing toes, bending knees. She was more than pleased to see that she had full mobility. She was even more pleased by the large scar she had across her lower back. Even though she'd been told not to poke it too often, she slid a hand under her to run fingers over the wide expanse of shiny new scar tissue, a low sound of satisfaction in her throat. A low chuckle made her look up as Nihlus came into the room.
"You look much better," he said kindly. "Feeling alright, Shepard?"
Ellen nodded.
"Much better now that I can move my limbs, I'm cleaned up and have fluids and nutrients in my system. Still weak, though. I couldn't stand up earlier," she groused. Nihlus chuckled again, and Taris nodded.
"Expected. Spinal cord recently repaired. Extreme amount of strain on amps and system from overuse of amps on little sustenance. Will take a few days to recover completely," Taris said in his prattling way.
"That's good, because we're only a few days from a relay, and from there, it's only a few hours from the Citadel, where we can reunite you with the Alliance," Nihlus said gently. "Gives you plenty of time to rest and brace for the debriefing you're going to be getting, sadly."
Ellen sighed softly before leaning back into the pillows, going back to sipping her drink- another glucose and electrolyte rich drink. Military standard staple for biotics. Taris was making positively sure she was getting her 4,500 calories, and then some to make up for the six hours she'd ran on nothing but adrenaline. The tray next to her bed held nothing but used utensils- luckily, Nihlus had two Asari on his ship, so there was food that she could not only eat, but actually found palatable. Nihlus sat in the chair next to the bed and tilted his head, bright green eyes studying her. Slightly unnerved by the avian intensity of his eyes that reminded her so much of an eagle's, she focused on the bottle in her hand.
"How did you survive, Shepard?" He asked quietly.
Ellen set her bottle down between her thighs, staring at it. She knew how she survived, but she was dealing with immense guilt and disappointment. She felt that she hadn't done enough, and that losing her entire crew could have been prevented. She knew it was survivor's guilt, but it didn't help ease the regret any. She was quiet for almost five minutes, and Nihlus showed no sign of becoming impatient. He sat there quietly, watching her with a gentle expression. He was giving her the time she needed. She was incredibly grateful for his patience, and finally, she cleared her throat.
"My crew. They lost their damn heads. They kept shooting the damn thing. They wouldn't take cover. I lost most of them from one burst of acid. The rest scattered, but made themselves sitting targets, despite my screaming orders to take cover. They just kept wasting ammo on the fucking thing. I..."
She made fists in the blankets, gripping the white sheets in her fingers.
"I couldn't get them to act on the training they'd been given, so while they held the maw's attention, I got as many of the colonists as I could to the undamaged shuttles, and set off the beacon. I used my men as a distraction," she said quietly, voice tight with disappointment at herself. Tight with guilt and grief.
"I kept ducking behind cover when I was the only one left. The maw knew it was me and it. I used my charge to get from cover to cover quickly. I couldn't stay in one place too long or it would burrow and find me. Every time I found new cover, I combed the small area around it for heavy ammo- Maude was empty, and if I'd had a few grenades..."
Nihlus tilted his head.
"Maude?"
Ellen smiled a bit.
"My grenade launcher. Named her Maude. Only love of my life, save for her sister, Mila, my submachine gun. I learned early on in life that a gun is like a lover, sibling and parent all in one. Take good care of them, keep them at your side, and you won't ever want for anything. Especially protection," she said, her voice slightly distant. She glanced up at Nihlus, panic suddenly etching over her face.
"Did you get my weapons? I...did you find my pack?"
Nihlus looked away.
"There...there was a submachine gun under the wall we pulled off you, but it was broken beyond repair, Shepard. I didn't see anything like a grenade launcher at the site. As for your pack, it was nothing but a mess of acid eaten cloth. The contents were unidentifiable. I...I'm sorry, Shepard."
Ellen closed the lid on her bottle, which rolled down the bed as she pulled her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs and pressing her face into her knees. Her shoulders started to shake as she cried softly. The pack had only contained the one thing she'd wanted to save. Weapons could be replaced. Ammo could be purchased.
Barkley would never be replaced. The last shred of the only happy time in her life, melted into nothing. The battered, well loved toy she'd found comfort in when her mother had thrown her away like refuse was gone forever. The only sentimental thing she'd allowed herself to cling to. The only non-essential belonging she'd fought for when living with the Reds was no more. Her cries slowly crescendoed into sobs.
Nihlus wasn't sure what had made her so upset- perhaps the weapons, but no, that couldn't be it. It had to be whatever had been in her pack. Something that was priceless to her. He got up and ran a hand over her shoulders. She made no response, only continuing to sob. He made a sympathetic sound.
"I'll give you your space, Shepard. Let me know if you need to talk," he soothed before leaving the room.
Ellen continued to sob. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around that ratty, battered doll, her best friend, with his frayed ears that had listened to every heartache, every secret, every wish. He'd been filled with her dreams and fears for over a decade at the least. And he was gone. Her father had given her Barkley when he came home from the Citadel- a place he'd promised he'd take her to visit. She never knew if he'd wanted to give her up, if that night he'd left because her mother had forced him to leave. She wondered if he'd looked for her. She'd had the opportunity to find her parents when she was made an officer, but she decided it was too painful to try. She had always clung to the small shred of hope that her father hadn't hated her for what she was. She didn't want to find out if he had.
She rolled over onto her side, covering her head with her pillow, sobs slowly dying down into whimpers as she fell asleep, lulled by exhaustion and grief.
o-o-o-o-o
"Coming up on the relay now," the pilot said, her voice smooth and calm. Nihlus nodded at the Asari.
"Take us in, Ciara," he replied.
Ellen was sitting in one of the chairs next to a powered down console. She braced herself for the jump as discretely as she could- she thought it was just her imagination, but she almost felt like her amps were being tugged gently every time she went through a relay, leaving her slightly disoriented. As they made the jump, Ellen felt the familiar tug, but it was less noticeable. Was it the ship? Was it the pilot? Was it her recent stress and surgery? No telling.
"Jump complete. ETA on docking with the Citadel: two hours."
Once in the clear, Ellen got up, pleased that she didn't wobble in front of Nihlus and Ciara. She'd regained a lot of her strength back, if not all of it. Her legs still felt off, as though they weren't entirely hers, but Taris assured her it was because the temporary cybernetic clip he'd latched onto the fracture site was knitting her nerves back together. She headed to the mess hall, her stomach rumbling slightly. She lifted her head as the soft, almost inaudible sound of footsteps reverberated on the floor behind her, and Nihlus almost seemed to materialize at her side. She offered him a small smile.
"You look like you can handle a debriefing now, Shepard," he joked. Ellen laughed as she accepted a plate from the mess cook and moved to sit at a table.
"I feel like I can handle one now," she replied before digging in. She shot a look of appreciation to the cook- a Salarian, who gave her a smile. Nihlus sat down, opening a can- a nutrient shake. He drank it quietly, then set the empty can down, looking at her carefully.
"Whatever was in your pack was important, more than you weapons, wasn't it?" He asked cautiously, his tone gentle. Ellen poked at what was left of her meal.
"It was. It's stupid. Not worth mentioning," she said softly, refusing to look at him. Nihlus flared his mandibles.
"If it meant that much, it obviously wasn't, Shepard," he retorted. Ellen let out a shaky sigh.
"It was a toy from my childhood. The last thing my father ever gave me. A plush dog. The only thing left of the one good time in my life. And it's gone," she said simply, pushing back her plate. "I'm an Alliance officer. I shouldn't be upset about the loss of a goddamn doll. It's gone, and I'm done talking about it."
She stood up, pushing her chair back, and after putting her plate into the washer, she nodded at Nihlus stiffly before heading back to her bunk. Nihlus watched her go, taking note of how stiffly she was walking- she was holding back tears again.
o-o-o-o-o
Ellen fingered the new badge on her uniform. Commander. Commander Shepard. A rank from losing men? How did that make sense? Why was she rewarded? Back in the Reds, if she'd come back the only survivor from a group of the the gang, she'd have been beaten for letting anyone die. Members of the gang were valuable resources, family, reinforcements. The Military? She was rewarded. It didn't make sense and it only reminded her that she was starting to hate the Alliance military.
"I know you're thinking you don't deserve it, Shepard, but you saved colonists. You survived."
Ellen looked up at Captain Anderson and sighed, pressing her face against the lapels of his jacket as he hugged her. Now that they were in the privacy of his office, she could hug him like she'd wanted to so badly since they'd docked with the Citadel. As usual, her mentor and friend smelled of shoe polish, a hint of aftershave and coffee. His arms were strong and warm around her, and though he would never replace the memory of the arms of her father, Anderson's embrace was the closest thing she'd get to it. She took strength and comfort from his hug before pulling back.
"If Nihlus hadn't shown up...God, I don't want to think about it," she murmured.
"Nihlus was very impressed with you," Anderson said excitedly. Ellen shrugged.
"I'm sorry, Captain, I'm just...I'm drained. It's hard to feel anything about anything right now."
Anderson nodded knowingly, clapping a warm firm hand on her shoulder.
"Going to write you a chit for 72 hours of liberty. Take a breather, Shepard. You deserve it."
"Request permission to leave, sir," she said, saluting him. Anderson returned the salute.
"Permission granted, Commander Shepard."
Ellen gave him a tired, but genuine smile, and saluting him again, left the office. She made her way to a transit cab, taking it to her apartment- she was still trying to get over that. She had an apartment in the Presidium now. Her scant belongings had been taken there- she'd go HOME instead of staying in the Officers' quarters on a ship. She fumbled for her access card, and opened the door. The apartment was small, but the rooms were well lit with floor to ceiling windows and sleek furnishings, and gleaming black "wood" floors and soft beige walls. A package on the kitchen table caught her eye. She moved over to it and read the label: 'Congratulations, and welcome home, Commander- Spectre Kryik.'
She blinked, then opened the package carefully. She was expecting a new gun, but the package wasn't heavy as she hefted it up. As the flaps of the box were opened, she dropped it on the table, eyes going wide and filling with tears. Bright eyes looked up at her from a soft plush face that was alien, but adorable all the same. Ellen lifted the stuffed critter from the box and saw a note tied around its neck. She gently pulled it off, not letting go of the strange doll.
'Shepard,
I wasn't sure what sort of doll your father had given you, but I figured it was an animal of some sort; I had one similar when I was younger. I honestly didn't know what to get you, or if I should get this for you at all, but you impressed me, Shepard, and I expect I will be seeing you again fairly soon. So, for now, I guess a Varren will have to do until we talk again and I get a better feel for what you might have wanted instead. After all, who would mess with a woman who has a stuffed Varren on her bed? I know I wouldn't.
Congratulations again,
Nihlus'
Ellen stared at the note a while longer before setting it on the table. Still clutching the stuffed Varren, she moved to her bedroom, collapsing onto the large queen sized bed. Pulling the toy to her chest, she curled up on her side into a fetal position, shaking slightly.
She wasn't sure if she wanted to cry or not.
