The Sword of Humanity
Chapter Four
He was no longer Commander Shepard. He was the Shock Assault Trooper Michael Carson, Thirty-Third Company, standing inside the Assault Shuttle Little Betty as it rumbled its way down through the atmosphere, forty-nine other men in the same area tightly packed shoulder to shoulder. Their Team Leader was Major Petrenkov, and he always spoke with an accentuated and fake Russian accent —considering Russia didn't exist any longer, he supposed it was some sort of 'honoring the motherland' thing.
They were assaulting Isis and already as the air of the planet's atmosphere encompassed the shuttle, so too came the noises of the orbiting ship's weapons entering and bombarding the major Hiver Outposts.
There were still packets of resistance within the colony, soldiers who survived the onslaught and hid between the ruins. They had mounted an assault immediately, in the hope of still being able to recapture the infrastructures and save the civilian population within.
It wasn't easy —it never was— to be an assault trooper.
They were the first in the battlefield, be it a foreign planet or be it their own. The casualties were the highest, and yet they soldiered on.
That was what they were in the end.
Soldiers.
"Nearing LZ in two minutes!" the pilot exclaimed, already the rumbling of the shuttle became furious, as the Hiver's anti-air systems tried to shoot them down. A few blasts of lasers were sent back as the shuttle reached terminal velocity during descent, before a sharp usage of the thrusters rammed the metallic drop ship against the ground.
The shuttle could take the abuse, and the armor the Marines wore was more than enough to dull the blow.
The back doors of the shuttle opened with a clank, and soon Michael leapt on his feet with his brothers and sisters of the company. They were divided into squads within seconds, and soon he was directly behind his Team Leader. Three other marines with their faces covered by visors followed them, and soon they held their rifles high and ready.
They dashed through the torn streets and the disheveled terrain covered by rubble and corpses. The Hiver's attack had caught the planet with the patrolling fleet elsewhere, and what little still was up in the sky had been torn apart. Police Cutters couldn't last against Hiver Dreadnoughts or Cruisers.
The planet had fallen, and the Hivers had entrenched themselves.
Thankfully the Green-Omega Four fleet detachment had been nearby, and had engaged in combat before the complete eradication of humanity from the system.
Now Michael Carson would prove himself upon the ground.
The first Hivers to appear were the scouts —nimble, with light green chitins covering their bodies and their frail-looking six limbs…yet each of them could easily outweigh a Marine and cut him in half with the arm-blades they literally grew from their arms.
Their four lower limbs possessed enough strength to easily make them jump over great distances, and with the way their claws curved and tiny barbs sprouted from their tips, they could easily climb over walls and rough surfaces.
Their chitin protected them against the smallest arms, and their internal and external skeleton forced any marine worth his salt to utilize specific weaponry to battle them; weaponry that Michael had and that John had learned to use like it was his second nature.
His caliber fifty rifle armed with Bugbusters burst forth a salvo of high yield polonium rounds, intertwined with an explosive compound that detonated five millisecond post impact.
The result was a mixture of a radioactive shower and an explosion strong enough to kill even the biggest bug within moments.
"Contact!" the scream echoed through all channels as the marines that had descended with Michael engaged their respective enemies. John gritted his teeth as he pushed against the rubble, the Virtual Reality machine sending the impulses to his brain to make sure everything felt realistic —even the sweat he held beneath his armor.
A Warrior cast Hiver shot forth from beneath the ground, its size easily rivaling four meters of height and half. Thicker limbs sustained it as its scythe-like claws carved a meaty lump of flesh out of one of the soldiers in Michael's team. John spun around, starting to fire upon the enemy. The bullets ricocheted against the Hiver's shields, as the beast lowered a rifle from its side, firing against the rest of Michael's squad.
Michael was left alone against the Hiver Warrior.
This was the precise reason John Shepard chose to play this scenario.
With a ferocious scream that came both from Michael and from John, the man charged ahead jumping above the rubble and slamming the rifle at point blank against the alien's chest. The bullets' detonation tore the thick reinforced chitin while bypassing the shields, but at the same time the recoil slammed Michael backwards. His combat suit absorbed most of the damage and radiation, but a sharp pain jostled through the man's spine.
A mere second of fighting, nothing more, and then Michael's eyes closed forever.
John Shepard opened his own calmly and removed the VR reality visor. He grabbed the bottle of cold and chilly beer next to him and gulped it down in a single breath. He removed the electrodes attached to his arms and legs, and stood up from the Virtual Reality pod.
That was how the world went. There were millions of Michaels fighting around the galaxy, dying by the same token —only with different aliens.
He stepped outside the VR room, letting the empty beer fall into the bin next to it —where it would then be sent to be recycled to become emergency patch material.
His steps took him back to his room, where he slowly slumped on his bed. He closed his eyes.
And then, as always, he dreamed the nightmare that he wished never to relive again.
You can't defeat a Hiver Warrior alone. Fast, nimble, strong and deadly…the wet dream of the Alien Sci-Fi directors concerning 'Insect Aliens' like those of Starship Trooper. Only orbital bombardment coupled with marine assaults managed to remove Hiver infestations from a planet. There simply wasn't another way.
Yet to save civilians, to save other Imperials, to save important data and infrastructure…
They had gone and fought a battle that he had lost.
If he hadn't lost his spot, if he hadn't let the Hivers overrun his position, then maybe a few more civilians could have evacuated. All those who died to recapture Isis…
Didn't they die because he had failed his job?
Liara.
"I'm going to go mad," Liara muttered banging her head against the metal cool surface of the table. She could barely breathe, the pain from her muscles clearly told her that sleeping in a cell —no matter if it was larger than the barracks' single units— was not made to be comfortable. Furthermore, they had an Ai aboard, a non-rampant and apparently friendly enough Ai who was actually the second person on the ship that Liara could call 'friendly'.
The first one was the Flight Lieutenant, Jeff Moreau, who now sat in front of her having been relieved by another to take his place.
"You get used to it. We've got pills against Cabin Fever now, you know?"
She groaned, slowly pushing her hands over her forehead. She felt an impounding headache basically every few minutes, as if somebody was slowly plunging a screw through her head.
"I don't feel good," she muttered. "Stress must be getting to me."
"Can't do much for that," Jeff remarked. "Maybe we could talk about the weather?"
"I had a question concerning that," Liara replied suddenly. "Why are the blast shields down?" she asked, her gaze travelling upwards to where the few glass panels that should normally bring in the light of the outside were covered by inches thick metal.
"Ah, well," Jeff chuckled. "That's just a quirk of the Captain."
The murderous gazes the rest of the crew within the forward mess was giving her however told Liara another story. She bit her lip, lowering her gaze slightly as she placed her hands closed to fists against her knees.
"There's something in your method of travel that is dangerous to the ship then?" she asked. "That's why you have to keep your shields up?"
"No, nothing of the sort," the man retorted shaking his head. "Really, it's just a different mean of travel. Slower than yours probably, but by no mean inferior."
"Your fleets are untraceable while travelling," she retorted. "That is something none of Citadel's races ship can do."
"Yeah, but you take days going where it takes weeks for us."
"Unless the trajectory is close by, then you can cover the spot instantaneously," she said. "Your engines are…quirky, to say the least."
"Our engines are mighty fine!" a crewmen snapped up from the other table. "And I won't have any blue skinned monster tell me they are anything else!"
"Adams, sit down!" another man alongside the same table as the engines' engineer retorted curtly.
"I apologize," Liara was startled, but she still tried to excuse herself. "It's just…I was only curious."
"Curiosity killed the cat, miss," a third voice intervened from another table. "Keep your tongue in check."
The general murmur of approval told Liara that she had overstayed her welcome, and as she stood up to leave Jeff sighed and then banged his fists on the table.
"Come on guys! Just look at her! She's smaller than the captain for Christ's sake! She's got the kill switch implanted and she's barely older than sixteen Earth years. Do you jerk off feeling mighty fine at night for having made a kid cry? Half of you are rough and tough and genetically engineered to be some sort of Super Marine! Cut her some slack, she was just curious!"
There was silence in the forward mess. In that silence, Liara's lips tugged slightly up for a moment in a sad rendition of a tired smile. "It's…it's not a problem, I'll be going now."
And then she left, leaving behind the gazes of suspicion, of unblemished hatred and also the few of curiosity and…well, she hoped of sorrow.
It was as she was returning to her room that she nearly banged against a two meters tall female. The woman had raven hair and pale skin, and she seemed to be wearing a suit similar to the Asari Commando one. On her right shoulder was the symbol of Solforce, coupled with enough stripes to rank her as a Gunnery chief.
"I'm sorry," Liara said, quickly trying to excuse herself...only for the woman to grip on her shoulder tightly and slam her against the wall of the Dreadnought.
"What the hell is going on here!?" the tall marine screamed as she grasped Liara by the neck, before pinning her on the ground —smashing her face against the metal walkway in the same instant.
Liara felt the pain as she kept her eyes closed. She could feel the tears mix with the blood coming out of her broken nose, and somehow the grip on her neck was painful, as if she was being literally choked through her trachea. She tried to whine, to scream, to get someone's attention, but instead all that she received was additional weight settling on her spine —a knee of the woman.
"Williams! Let the girl go!" a voice bellowed from above. "She's clear!"
"What the hell is 'clear' major!? She's alien!"
"I said to let her go, Williams," the voice came again. "You can ask the captain if you prefer."
"Don't think I won't," the human Commando growled back. "Why was no-one watching her? Does she have the kill switch at least?"
"Let her go, you're choking her!" this was Moreau's voice now. "And somebody get the captain!"
"Captain Shepard is currently resting," the Ai's voice piped in, but by then the merciful goddess took her in her arms, and Liara lost consciousness as the grip seemed to intensify for just a second more, before being released.
Commander John Shepard
"Commander, there is a situation on the bridge."
Edi's metallic voice woke him up.
"Marine cryo-change has been enacted. New forces have awoken and have yet to be told the situation. Gunnery Chief Williams was not informed of new development and acted rashly against Miss T'soni."
He groaned, slowly standing up from his bed. He walked to the bathroom, to get a glass of water to wash away the dryness of his throat. His eyes stared back at him through the glass panel, showing his rugged features and the need for a shave.
He'd leave the stubble on for the moment. He had more pressing things like an impounding headache and General Williams' granddaughter to take care of.
The Williams family had a history of military tradition that could easily rival any other. The first contact war with the Turians had been fought by the Williams' led fleet after all, and the numbers spoke clearly. If one wanted a boogeyman for the Turians, one just had to yell out loud 'Williams' to get them spooked.
Until the Solforce arrival, the aliens' ships moved like boats in space: they knew up and down, but generally they tended to fire from a forward position, never doing any of the moves that had made Humanity one of the most bastard races the universe had knowledge of.
Solforce ships in battle didn't only fire from a straight forward position, and there was a reason all pieces of furniture were magnetized or bolted to the ground. From the smallest of Destroyers to the mightiest of Leviathans…
Solforce ships could dance across the stars, spinning, twirling, flowing to the side or making backwards rolls in space as their turrets fired around. Like ballerinas they spun, literally avoiding hits rather than being forced to absorb them with their armor.
The Turians had never acquired the knowledge of what to do, when the enemy doesn't actually absorb the attack…but dodges it while firing back.
He walked on the bridge expecting carnage and blood and more paperwork on how the blue alien had died. He instead was pleasantly surprised to find Ashley Williams with her arms crossed over her chest and her back against the wall looking sour, while the blue skinned Liara was being carried towards the infirmary by the flight lieutenant Moreau.
"Commander!" his name being called by so many witnesses, he winced. He could feel the headache incoming already…and he didn't like it.
"Bring the guest to the medbay," he said. "Williams? With me," he spun around and began to walk away towards the battle bridge. The soldier followed dutifully and in silence, and as they reached the elevator that went all the way up to the specific bridge, he gestured for her to enter before closing the doors.
Midway upwards, he pressed the button for the sudden stop.
"Edi? Render the lift out of order until I give you the all clear," he muttered in the now enclosed space.
"Yes Commander."
When the metallic voice gone, John Shepard turned to look with his arms crossed at the Gunnery chief.
"What happened?" he asked, exhaling loudly.
"Sir, permission to speak freely?" the soldier asked standing to attention. Shepard nodded once, curtly, and the woman continued. "The alien was aboard unguarded! That wasn't on the mission parameters!"
"They changed during our brief stay at the citadel," he replied. "We have to give her the kiddie gloves, Director's orders."
"Sir?" the soldier bit her lip. "Is this going down in the official record?"
"No," he shook his head. "I would have acted in the same way," he supplied. "But this should stress the importance of going first and foremost to the briefing room after every cryo-cycle, rather than loiter around."
Now the woman looked even sheepish. "Yes, sir. Won't happen again, sir."
"See that it doesn't," he finished, rebooting the lift and heading off to the battle bridge and the briefing room, where the rest of the marines just awoken from Cryo-cycle were already there.
If looks could murder, those of the marine-detachment leader would leave nothing but dust in place of Williams.
The briefing room was a circular area with a holographic system, generally used both for space-land battle direction and also for space-space battles and general weapon system controls. The holographic rendition of Eden Prime appeared on screen, pointed lines gesturing to the landing area near the colony where the beacon was located.
"We have correctly interpreted the fact that the beacon on Eden Prime is working," John began, as the holographic rendition of the beacon appeared on screen. "Due to Kill-Switch ninety-three however, it is impossible for any Solforce operative to operate it."
He gestured to a video frame of the beacon activating, sending out a pulse of light and then turning to mush the scientist who had moved too close to it.
"It appears the beacon automatically detects living and sentient beings and tries to send a neurological impulse into their synapses. Since this works similar to Zuul psionics, the Kill Switch activates."
"So the alien's the key, sir?"
"Correct, Asari physiology is naturally predisposed to acquiring information through neuronal interlinking," the hologram of an Asari appeared with the brain nerves flashing. "We will be sending her forward, understood? The Kill Switch in her is remotely activated, not genetically implanted."
Murmurs and nods echoed through the briefing room, before a marine hesitantly asked.
"Sir? How are we going to acquire the data?"
"Cybernetics," Shepard replied calmly. "We will extract her brain and archive it within a neuronal output. The masses of other semi-sentient beings will take care of the problem."
A marine actually turned green at that prospect.
"The closest Cyber-unit is on Feros, investigating the Prothean ruins. They are the most apt at re-acquiring information and they will be our next stop."
"Sir? Does the alien know?"
John just looked at the marine in question. Jenkins fidgeted slightly, before another marine slammed a hand against his shoulder. "Yeah, she's got a brain-in-a-jar secret fetish, come on Jenkins! Are you yanking our chains or what!?"
"Very well, remember the usual code of silence and know that the alien is to be kiddy gloved. An accident on Prime will render her deceased, and that will be that. Dismissed!"
The marines stood to attention for a second more, before splitting up in groups and heading down to the forward mess hall.
"Williams! You stay behind!" John Shepard barked the order as the woman was just about to reunite with her unit.
"Sir?" there was a slight wince in her face, clearly the woman was thinking of what her punishment was going to be, especially with the sadistic grin the Commander was sporting in that moment.
"You are assigned to guard duty around the alien," John nearly sang those words out with a sort of mock tone, but he schooled his features and tried to keep it neutral. "So…"
He moved closer to the woman in question.
"Become. Her. Friend."
"Commander…"
"Yes, Williams?"
"Permission to speak freely?"
"Denied," John shrugged. "You can go, Gunnery Chief. And be warned…don't force me to call you Private."
The moment John Shepard was left alone —after Ash Williams hurriedly left the bridge— he collapsed on the nearby chair, his gaze glazed as he stared at the holograms in front of him.
His chin resting on his hand's palm, he watched as the rendition of Eden Prime's planet rotated ever so slowly. Dots and lines showing the major cities and arteries of traffic shone brightly along its surface, while the overharvesting facilities worked full time.
Five data clusters hanged over the planet, four accessible to his rank and one not.
The first was about genetical engineered crops, the second was the Prothean dig site, the third was the installment of anti-space military grade rockets and the fourth concerned a pick-up of ambassador Udina.
The fifth one was way beyond his rank.
He hated it when things were Cerberus-rank or above.
It reminded him of his failure.
Of all his failures, to be precise.
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