Consciousness returned as a dull aurora.
Nick inhaled sharply as the world grew bring once more, sputtering as he took in a lungful of dust and soot. Rolling his head sideways, he was able to liberate his mouth and nose from their soil enclosure and breathe freely, affording him a moment to compose himself, the slight rise and fall of his chest lifting his entire body. Pursing his lips, the corpsman took notice of the gritty sensation of dirt that caked them and spit the foul substance into the grass.
He rose to his knees and—taking few seconds more to will his stiff body into action—rose to his feet.
Dusting the soil from his green T-shirt, he quickly took stock of the situation. Achy ribs protested every movement, and peering down the collar of his dirty shirt the marine found several sizeable red blotches that were sure to become ugly bruises. His head was throbbing as well, aggravated by his now upright position and could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it drummed at the inside of his ears, though he realized the world around him sounded muted and off-key.
His eyes keenly took in the details of his surroundings—a grassy clearing choked on all sides by thick vegetation—and then glanced to the sky, hoping to deduce the time as he realized his wristwatch had vanished.
The horizon had a rich red-orange glow as the sun sat low in the sky, casting a weak crimson light and turning the shadows around the lone man from black to a dull gray. But—without his bearings or a compass—the private couldn't be sure whether it was rising or setting.
Seeing no answers coming from above, Nick shifted his attention to his more immediate surroundings and began to further consider the details of the grove he'd awoken in. The grass was thick and unmanicured, growing to finger's length in some spots and choked with weeds that stood high enough to meet the private's knee as he milled about the clearing. The marine quietly panned the line of brush around him, searching for a breach in the undergrowth that might betray a path or fresh trail.
However, the forest around him revealed nothing, so he continued scanning the brush for where it seemed thinnest—deeming it the most practical route—and stepped into the blanket of darkness under the thick canopy as he began to pick his way through the maze of hanging vines and downed trees.
The air was heavy with moisture that seemed to leave the rrivate breathless from the slightest effort, though the forest floor was rich with the smell of fresh rain, making it a maze of slick rock faces and tangled thickets that pulled at his legs and clothing, periodically forcing him to reroute when in spots where it was impassably thick.
He waded and backtracked around in the brush for— what seemed to his best estimate—nearly hour more, until he suddenly parted the vegetation to find himself on the edge of a trail that divided the woods as it followed the winding contours of the land.
Straddling the threshold between the sunbaked dirt of the path and the dark, heavy soil of the shaded forest, Nick looked down the trail to both sides, following it as far as he could until the thin tan stripe veered into the foliage and vanished.
It seemed to the enlisted man's eye well travelled, and he could see the inward curve and perpendicular lines left by the heavy footfalls of boots.
Scanning the area thoroughly to ensure he hadn't overlooked anything, he selected the set prints that seemed the freshest and began to follow them.
The path was rough and had been washed out in many places, leaving narrow channels that bisected the trail and fissures that would capture the feet of anyone not careful enough to avoid them.
Despite this, Vandas made comparatively good time and as he walked the world gradually grew brighter as the foliage flanking the path on either side became progressively less dense. Shortly there after, he reached the trailhead and the land opened up ahead of him into a vast expanse of grasslands that serenely rippled with the wind in waves.
For the beleaguered corpsman, it was a godsend.
The wilderness trail he'd been following ended, leaving him standing on the side of a gravel road that snaked along the wood line. Knocking the dust and twigs from his person, Nickeli marched on.
Nick sat silently along the side of the road, crouched in a drainage ditch that concealed him up to the waist and ran parallel to the dirt street he'd began following some time ago, virtually invisible amongst the tall grass as he cautiously observed what lie ahead of him.
A sizeable clearing had been cut into the timberline where several structures were now situated. Most were simple open-air storage areas with corrugated roofs under which the trooper could see stacks of assorted crates and equipment draped with tarps to shield them from the elements, but there was also a small dwelling on the property. It had a metal finish that seemed as though it may have once been a finely polished silver color, though it had been tarnished by the weather and neglect, leaving it a lusterless grey.
The corpsman's hand rested on his holster, fingers drumming anxiously against the grip of the sidearm that sat snuggly inside as he contemplated his next action.
He'd been waiting in vigilant silence for nearly ten minutes as he waited for some indication as to whether or not the residence was occupied. There was the distant chorus of the woods as trees rustled in the wind and wildlife called, but he'd seen and heard nothing from the small compound.
For someone accustomed to the protective enclosure of body armor and the sound of a squad of his fellow marines sitting at his back, solitude was a foreign and uneasy experience, especially when so woefully equipped.
Drawing his sidearm from the drop holster on his right thigh, Nick began to advance along the shallow trench, the very top of his head a barely visible form as he moved in a stooped walk toward the settlement. Pausing where the ditch became a narrow pipe that disappeared into the earth, he lingered for a moment; adjusting his grip on the weapon as he exhaled unevenly, trying to draw reassurance from the weight of the Berretta as yet another visual scan of the area yielded nothing noteworthy.
Swallowing his apprehension, the Private pulled himself up the channels's embankment and swiftly crossed the clearing, pistol held at the ready.
Reaching the building, he placed his back against the exterior wall and shuffled toward the door, palms growing somewhat moist against the weapon's black alloy handle. Finding a short flight of stairs that led to the door, Nick took a deep breath and noiselessly climbed them.
Oddly, the door lacked an obvious handle and in its place was a small jade button mounted on the door frame. Taking a long moment to quiet his pounding heart, the marine lightly tapped the button and stormed inside as the door opened, sidearm extended before him as he stepped into the black cloak of darkness on the other side and a wave of cold, dry air sent a momentary chill down the length of his spine.
Squinting into the blackness, he strained his eyes to examine the contents of the room by the glow of a small skylight on the other side of the black chamber, but could make out little more than rough outlines.
Without warning, the door came down and sealed behind him, leaving him in almost utter darkness for a moment as he tentatively advanced further inside, trying his best not to bump into anything as he blindly navigated chamber.
After a few moments of black silence, the eerie void was filled with a monotone beep…beep…beep that resonated through the enclosed space.
Just as Nickeli began to wonder what the source of the sound might be, he was suddenly bathed in harsh white light as long rows of overhead lights erupted from the shadows.
Overtaken by the sudden inversion from dark to light, he recoiled and covered his eyes, nearly toppling backward as something caught him in the back of the knee.
Reaching back to steady himself on the object, the corpsman composed himself and, after allowing his eyes to adjust, took a better look at his surroundings.
Someone's home, Nick quickly gathered, glancing back at a low table that rested against the back of his leg and the rest of the quaint foyer he found himself in the middle of. The structure's interior was a single chamber with a long couch that ran along the wall and bent away at a right angle, serving as a boundary between the greeting area and the kitchen beyond it.
In the opposite corner, an area had been partitioned off with the addition of a privacy screen to create a small sleeping area. Searching the dwelling to ensure he was alone, Nickeli allowed his weapon to fall and returned it to its place on his thigh, but rested his hand near it as he began to explore the room.
Running his hand along the polished steel of the kitchen counter, he began to look around at the room and found it oddly…featureless. The walls consisted of large lusterless steels panels; the plates so painstakingly aligned that the seams between them were almost indistinguishable from the shadows.
The sharp, geometric lines of the furniture and walls made the empty chamber seem that much more devoid of life, and paired with the pervasive silence the room became downright eerie.
However, his attention was suddenly drawn away from the surrounding room as his hand encountered a ridge on the countertop. Glancing down, he found has palm resting against the outer lip of a deep sink.
Instantly overtaken by the sensation of fiery tightness that rose from deep within his throat, he quickly found the handle and with a twitch of the wrist sent a stream of cool, clear water pouring from the faucet.
Nick began to catch the water with a cupped hand and brought it to his mouth, repeating the motion as fast as he could empty his palm. However, he soon abandon the rather vain action as he realized he'd never quench the ravenous thirst that possessed him and instead stuck his head into the deep basin and lapped at the stream of cool liquid, spraying water across his face and soaking the front of his shirt down to the sternum.
The sensation of the cold drink trickling down his dry throat was reinvigorating, and the clutching thirst that had gripped his throat like an iron hand faded. Drinking as much as he could, he then pushed his head underneath the faucet and let it filter through his bristly brown hair, washing away flecks of dirt and the sticky residue of dried sweat.
Extricating himself from the sink, Nickeli leaned over the sink with his hands on either side, watching the murky water spiral around the drain as it fell from his chin, chest heaving from the long drink.
Though the yearning cries of his aching body for rest and water now fell silent, the marine's mind refused to grant him reprieve.
He'd been pushing the plaguing thoughts into the far corner of his mind and focusing on the simple goals he'd been progressively setting for himself as he walked, but he found himself suddenly without distraction and the concerns crowded back into conscious thought.
Where was he? How bad had the attack been? Why had he awoken in woods? The questions went without answer as Nickeli struggled to make sense of the previous evening as he asserted what he knew.
He wasn't in the valley anymore.
Nick found the idea difficult to process, but it was the one thing he was certain of. The woodlands he'd trekked through were too temperate and wet, and were a far cry from the fairly dry ridges and lakebeds of the lowlands where Paladin outpost resided.
Again, the twenty-one year old suppressed the worrisome thoughts. It was something to fret about later, he decided. For now, without a wider view of the situation, he would continue to follow the road and see where it took him.
A long, deep sigh escaped from Nickeli's throat. He was hardly a proponent of any plan that left him blindly marching along an unknown route through unfamiliar terrain, but his frustrating inability to see the bigger picture meant he had no alternatives for the time being.
Running a hand over his scalp, the trooper sent a fine mist water droplets falling from his hair as he glanced at the bare walls of the dwelling, searching for a reason to delay his departure.
However, he could find nothing to distract himself further and wandered somewhat reluctantly to the door over the course of several minutes.
Stepping back out into the thick humidity, Nick found the stifling heat of the late morning sun to be a bit more tolerable and walked down the steps and followed a small dirt path where the thick grass had been worn away by use back toward the road as the building's heavy door fell into place behind him.
Pausing along the edge of the road just before the grass became gravel, the private first class looked to his right and followed the road as it wound along the wood line back toward the trailhead from which he'd emerged. To his left, he surveyed the unfamiliar road that the corpsman fervently hoped would prove to be his way out. He perched his lips, releasing a long breath.
Great, more walking, Nickeli cringed, sticking his thumbs in the pockets of his utility pants. A morning of traversing the rough landscape and weathered trails had left the private with an aching tightness in his legs and a slight hesitance to take to the road once more.
He'd have preferred a more certain course of action than simply wandering along the dirt lane until he found something or someone, but he again found himself at the mercy of circumstance so—for now, at least—he had no other recourse. Pulling his hands from his pockets, Nick began walking.
Ashley ran her gloved fingers through her hair, carefully tucking the long, dark-brown threads into a perfect bun.
It was something of a nervous habit she'd acquired, and she mentally chided herself for doing it as she finished adjust how it sat on her head.
Picking up her helmet from where it leaned against her thigh, the gunnery chief put it on and again assessed the situation.
She was residing in a narrow irrigation ditch, with about an inch of stinking, stagnate water a few inches below where she'd braced her legs against the opposing side of the trench to keep her boots out of it.
"Chief," a voice spoke and Ashley glanced up.
A few meters away, Nirali was lying prone near the top of the channel with the muzzle of her rifle parting a patch of tall tan grass, concern and exhaustion drawing subtle lines across the dark skin of her forehead and cheeks.
"Check on Groves for me, would you?" The lookout requested and the marine moved to oblige, carefully steadying herself against the steep embankment with one hand as she moved to the supine form of her squadmate a few meters away.
Halting, she adopted a kneeling position and tapped at her omni-tool, cloaking her left forearm with a semi-translucent orange glow as she accessed the medical suite integrated into the fallen rifleman's hardsuit.
He was unconscious now, which seemed like a small mercy in contrast to his strangled, agonized screaming as the two women had dragged him to safety, the sheer recollection of his cries jolting to the gunnery chief.
A rectangular frame appeared on Ashley's wrist; long lists of text and charts scrolling across the display. Despite this, the gunnery chief found herself gaping at the four punctures in his chestplate, the exposed ceramic armor splintered and caved inward around them.
A sensation of uncertainty sent a cold rush up the marine's spine, putting the hair on the back of her neck on end. The precision of the Geth was truly frightening. Only a few hours before, she'd seen half a platoon cut down by the synthetic menace; dozens of well-trained Alliance warriors felled with mechanical efficiency.
She'd seen a few others scatter and retreat toward the scientific camp as their position was overrun, but the sound of battle had risen from beyond the horizon shortly after Ashley and Nirali had taken refuge in the irrigation ditch but fell silent a few minutes later, leaving the landscape in unnatural silence.
Forcing her mind back to the present, Gunnery Chief Williams glanced at the wounded man's reading as they compiled themselves on her arm. She'd expended the entirety of the trio's medigel in an attempt to halt the downward spiral of his vitals as the young marine hemorrhaged, but had only succeeded in slowing the decline.
Closing her omni-tool, Ash sat down in the sloped grass next to the slowly fading soul and lingered in silence, an expression of forlorn sadness on a face she'd had preferred appear stoic, making her thankful for the small degree of privacy granted by her helmet.
Opening a small pouch on the belt that ran along the waist of her armor, the marine produced a small piece of paper and unfolded it several times to reveal a weatherproofed map of the area. Setting it across her knee, she placed a finger on the chart and began to follow the small line that she knew to be the platoon's patrol route, examining the land along it for her current position.
The local communications network had been blacked out, severing her link to satellite feeds and leaving the rest of the human forces in the area to an uncertain fate.
Quickly referencing the small compass in the corner of her helmet's heads-up-display, she began working feverishly, pulling a small black marker from her armor and plotting a route that skirted around the colony in the direction of an isolated Alliance listening post that she hoped had been left untouched by the sudden assault on the garden world.
"Hey Chief," Nirali spoke with slow hesitance as she narrowed her eyes in the direction of the woodline that flanked the ditch, calling Ashley's attention away from the chart spread across her lap. "I see someth- "
There was the sudden, sharp crack of a mass driver and the rifleman was violently thrown to the opposing side of the narrow channel, the sound of flesh and ceramic slamming against the embankment as her fellow marine tumbled limply down the slope drawing an involuntary cringe from the gunnery chief.
At the same instant, the line of brush Nirali had been watching erupted in a vicious hail of tungsten as a number of looming figures revealed themselves and began marching steadily toward the trench.
Ash immediately scrambled into the center of the irrigation ditch where it was deepest, running in a low crouch back toward where the trio had piled their equipment as incoming rounds tore through the long grass that sat along the dike's upper crest, showering soil and plant matter on the channel's two remaining occupants.
Locating her weapon amongst the small pile of gear, the marine clambered up the slope and threw herself down as the rifle unfolded itself in her arms.
Tucking it into her shoulder, Ashley placed the weapon's crosshairs on the slowly advancing form of the nearest geth and began fire in short bursts, her fire dancing through the air as short white starbursts in contrast to the long pale-blue beams streaming from the weapons of her synthetic foes.
Even as the enemy fire grew increasingly accurate and rounds began to drum at her shield, Ashley held her ground, firing ineffectually at the cold blue eye of a trooper, until the barrage proved to be too much for her dwindling barriers and her protective sphere failed in a burst of white electricity.
With her best layer of defense suddenly gone, a slug sparked off a nearby stone and struck one of her armored gauntlets, nearly knocking the weapon out of her hands and adding another ugly black scar the hardsuit's coat of white paint. Quickly retreating down the embankment as a line of holes where stitched in the dirt only an arm's length away, Ashley landed in the small stream, immersing her boots to just above the toes.
However, the reprieve granted by her earthen sanctuary proved fleeting, as no sooner had the small blue bar on the chief's HUD refilled then the field around her flared a brilliant teal.
Sent reeling by the shots, Ash brought her rifle to bear and spun to face the threat.
A few dozen meters away, a geth trooper was stalking toward her through the center of the trench with its weapon raised as several more of the synthetic soldiers appeared along the banks of the ditch and fell in line behind it.
The gunnery chief faltered, shooting a glance over her shoulder toward the long, empty passageway that disappeared toward the horizon then back toward the foe that would soon be upon her.
Between her and the rapidly advancing enemy, the crumpled form of her fallen squadmate lie in the bottom of the shallow gully, the woman's amber eyes held wide in a final instant of shock now eternally frozen on her face, dark crimson flowing freely across her features from the wound only a few inches above her brow.
Nearby lie the unresponsive Sergeant Groves, the subtle rise and fall of his chest amongst the long grass the only indication that the young man was still faintly clinging to life.
Ashley's gaze trembled on the supine body of her brother in arms, drawing a sharp breath as an icy sensation seemed to bury itself in her gut like a dagger. Her mind was at war with itself; hesitance combating honor, instinct pulling her in both directions; frozen by indecision even as the enemy bore down upon her.
I might be able to make it to him.
The thought seemed to set itself in the marine's stomach like a heavy stone. She could try. She could rush to his side and carry him across her shoulder to safety, and even should she fail and be brought down by the rain of enemy fire, it would be a soldier's death nevertheless.
Behind her was the horizon; the empty passageway set before her as an offer of deliverance. But it would mean abandoning her comrade to his fate so that she might live to see another sunrise.
Ashley ran.
A/N: As a note, I've made some edits to the Alliance rank system. The system I'm using has the ranks of Service/Operations/Gunnery Chief as replacing what would be the United States Marine Corps warrant officer ranks. This was the most prudent choice in a lot of ways. First, it would explain what makes Ashley unique from the rest of the Normandy's marine detachment (she's a specialist, excelling at certain tasks above the skills of most marine officers with the possible exception of Shepard, who is an N7). Given a marine warrant officer's duties along with the specialty, I think this actually folds into the canon quite nicely. Additionally, it gives me more NCO ranks to work with throughout the story and—being more similar to the modern system—gives me a better understanding of it.