Of dreams and nightmares.
Disclaimer
Starcraft is the property of Blizzard entertainment.
Mass effect is the property of Bioware.
Any elements used in this story are used only in order to create a story for no monetary gain nor do I claim any ownership over them, beyond the names and characters unique to this story.
SSV Normandy - on route to the citadel
Shepard.
He could smell as flesh burned around him…
But those ashes had disappeared millennia ago.
He could hear the screams of terror as the innocent cried for gods long gone…
But those voices had ceased their noise eons past.
He could feel as the fires of evil threatened to burn the galaxy…
But those cinders had been extinguished by time eternal.
And above it all he could see…
He could see it all…
Armageddon…
It was all that Shepard could dream about…
Flashing memories threatened to overwhelm him: the butchering of a species, the carnage of annihilation, the work that turned all life to machine.
Each image more horrifying than the last, each one bringing to life a new kind of horror made manifest. He couldn't make sense of any of what he saw. He could only describe it in one word: Armageddon.
As he felt a thumping in his mind the dream became brighter and brighter.
The fake light was coming for him…
Shepard frantically woke up as the nightmare threatened to consume him and as he panted heavily, Shepard began to regain his bearings.
He could see the sterile environment that told him he was in the Med-bay. He found himself lying on one of the beds and as he began to move a voice spoke to him.
"Don't even try it son" Shepard let out a sigh of relief as he understood that it was Anderson.
He turned his head to his right in order to see his old friend "What the hell happened, sir?" he asked. A surprised look was all that appeared across the captain's face.
"I hoped you could answer that for me, commander" he replied "All that we know is that you somehow managed to destroy the beacon".
Fuck.
Shepard had somehow managed to screw up the mission and he couldn't retell what had happened for he truly didn't know this. "The last thing I remember is calling for the Normandy to pick us up and then…" he paused for a moment "There was a whisper to my side, it called my name".
"Captain, the commander must have suffered some kind of concussion after the artifact exploded" said the voice of the doctor stationed aboard the Normandy, Dr Karin Chakwas "There's also the strange brain activity we saw while the commander was under".
"What did you see, Shepard?" asked Anderson once more.
"I… I don't know sir. Death, suffering and… an end?" claimed Shepard to the astonishment of his captain.
"It may be the medications speaking, captain" Chakwas tried to explain to the uneasy captain "But we can't be sure with such alien artifacts. He should remain under observation while we continue to travel towards the citadel".
"And here I thought the alliance would worry more for its men and women" joked Shepard.
Anderson smiled "I see you somehow managed to retain your sense of humor, commander" he began "I just hoped that beacon would have somehow taught you some respect towards authority" he jested.
"I wouldn't worry about that, captain" said Chakwas. "I just hoped that the commander could have kept some company for my other patient" she said while pointing towards a still unconscious Nihlus.
Anderson agreed "Maybe you should go and see if Lieutenant Alenko and Chief Williams are up and about" That last part surprised Shepard.
"Wait, Ashley is on board?" Shepard asked.
Anderson nodded "She proved herself during the fight on Eden Prime and I know that Hannah would appreciate that she looks out for you" the captain began to explain his reason for allowing her to come along "She thought it would be convenient for you to rest a while, I guess you will meet with her once she wakes up from her nap" Shepard raised an eyebrow.
Chawkwas saw the confusion in the commander's face and decided to explain "She last slept two days ago, commander" the doctor explained "She was so full of stims and caffeine that I almost thought we would have a third patient on our hands" joked the doctor.
Oh Ashley, you never change.
Shepard smiled at his friend's lack of self preservation.
"Anyway" began Anderson "We are still hours away from the citadel. Rest for a while, commander" spoke Anderson with a little bit of concern in his words "I wouldn't like to be the one that has to explain to your mother and sister why you have been missing their calls" he exited through the door.
Shepard checked his omni-tool for the time…
22:01 PM.
Six hours after he promised to call them "uuuugh" groaning as he knew of the hell that awaited him, he decided to ignore this issue until they had completed their mission at the citadel.
"Wouldn't wish to be you, commander…" said the doctor as she rummaged through her medical cabinet "Now, where are those gel canisters that we just got?".
A while earlier…
Xiltar
This is stupid.
Xiltar hid from the Terrans in their cargo bay, moving ever so slightly as to not alert them.
Getting to any place in this ship was a slow and agonizing slog.
His wounds had been taken care of as best as he could do with the resources at hand since he managed to sneak into the crew quarters almost undetected as he took a ride with a tired engineer.
As the tired human grumbled under his breath on the apparent incompetence of his subordinates he felt a little compassion for the old being.
Once they arrived at the apparent mid section of the ship, he managed to sneak his way undetected until he arrived before a room that had a sign with a strange symbol painted on it.
He searched quickly through the memories of a patrolling soldier and discovered that this was the universal symbol for a place of healing.
Xiltar entered the room as he teleported through a window adjacent to the door.
He quickly glanced around and found the two unconscious beings who he had encountered along his most recent trip.
But as he glanced around at the rest of the room he failed to see anything that could aid him…
Where was the healer who was supposed to tend to the wounded?
Why was there no priest of repose here?
Where was the micro fabricator that could create new flesh for non lethal wounds?
…
Truly primitive.
He began to grumble to himself until he remembered a little detail of his encounter with the not so hostile turian.
The one called Nihlus had called it… medi-gel.
Xiltar opened a cabinet and found a container labeled with the same symbol as the one in the room. This must have been it.
He teleported back and used the empty elevator as the engineer had unwittingly shown him how to operate it.
…
Buttons…
How… underdeveloped.
Xiltar shook his head and looked at the container. While he had managed to translate most of the dialect of these aliens through his mind reading abilities he nonetheless struggled to understand most of the text.
He only managed to get that it was the healing salve he was looking for but he could not make out most of the text.
How inconvenient.
He arrived on the empty bay and looked for a certain spot he had found while he waited for someone to operate the elevator.
A loose panel along the floor had led him to a surprisingly big but empty spot just under its surface.
He descended into its darkness and once he had made sure that nobody had followed him or knew of this spot he replaced the cover and ignited his blade for some light.
He took the canister and then applied the substance over his still open wound.
At first he was unsure as to the reaction that such a substance would have on his physiology but to his surprise it served well to form a shell around his wound while making a patch under which his body could begin to heal itself.
It wasn't perfect, but it would have to suffice.
He cursed the religious intent of his armor and the regretful lack of a shield that had allowed the abomination to strike him.
Whatever had brought him to this realm managed to fry the crystalin circuitry that served as its main matrix of his shield and it had cracked to such a degree that he burned himself the first time he tried to reactivate the plasma shield.
He could repair it somewhat, for he had the technical knowledge to do so but what he lacked was the materials and analog tools to do such a task.
He would have to steal once again.
…
He felt tired
Xiltar had not rested for a while now.
His body demanded little sleep like most protoss, but what little it demanded placed him at risk of being discovered and killed.
As he prepared to rest for a while he closed his eyes and thought of home.
Of those he couldn't see anymore…
Of his now gone world…
Of his race which was no more…
…
Dreaming.
A state in which almost no protoss would found himself upon.
For how could fantasies conjured by the mind overcome what his people could create in the waking world.
Dreams were fleeting… as fleeting as an illusion.
Yet here he was…
Xiltar found it strange that when he opened his eyes he was not in the confined space aboard the terran ship like he had expected.
It was night, the stars illuminating the void while his feet rested upon the ground of a world he did not recognize.
He was in a desert made of pitch black sand with nothing breaking the horizon save for two things…
Behind him stood a ruined city.
Broken and burning buildings illuminate the night as its ambers destroyed the vista with its heat and hatred.
It warned him not to approach.
The other thing he saw was a pyramid of onyx facets. Lines of pure cosmic power ran across its surfaces in the eldritch patterns he has come to know as the work of his… gods.
At its zenith stood what he could recognize as a crystal of great size.
But this wasn't a nexus of his people.
No…
The scale betrayed it as something even grander.
A feeling tugged at his soul and compelled him to approach the structure…
…
He humored this illusion and began to approach the structure with weary but steady steps.
The Xel'naga beckoned and as an Ihan-rii he was compelled to answer the call.
(So you remember us) spoke the voice he heard that fateful day.
As he looked around he found that no other being traversed the empty ground as he did.
What was this?
(I never forgot you, child) a feminine voice sounded once again as it spoke in a more affectionate thone (We never abandoned you. We never truly did…) it spoke now with a trace of sorrow.
"Who are you?" Xiltar's words echoed through the dream.
He stood alone at the base of the pyramid as flights of stairs invited him to ascend towards its cusp…
But he dared not to take one more step.
(I…) it began in a timid manner. He waited (You may know me only as Nebula…) she said as whatever the origin of this voice was, wished to hide her true name from him and he felt antagonized by this decision (I don't do this with evil intent, young one…) She paused for a moment (I came before you to ask for your aid).
"My aid?" Xiltar said as this whole ordeal began to make him suspect what this creature truly was.
…
Xiltar felt as anger began to boil in his soul.
Had his people not prayed for deliverance and aid?
Had they not bleed through the stars in order to save the creation of their lords?
Had they not been abandoned?
If this creature was what he thought, then she has nor right to ask for his aid.
"What could you ask from me? Oh, ancient one" he spat this question in distaste at the audacity of this creature.
To him, his gods had betrayed him.
(I'm not your god, Xiltar) she spoke harshly (Nor will i ever ask that of you or your kind).
His kind?
But…
He was the last one.
He was the only thing that remained of his kind.
(Not true, young one) a shimmering cloud of smoke appeared next to him and parted to reveal… hope.
He saw the mentor's pride and the vessels of his armada as they orbited the world of Zhakul while inside an empty cosmos.
(I saved them) the voice claimed (Just as I saved you).
…
Xiltar felt no trace of deceit from her words.
He turned towards the steps after the cloud of white smoke banished.
He then began to climb the structure.
"Why did you save us?" The protoss asked as he climbed the almost infinite structure.
Every step he took felt like a strike that took a toll on his mind.
Each step made him feel as if he was experiencing the tired state that only appeared after a great battle.
Each wound upon his being felt greater than the last and each time he conquered another step he felt as if had only won after paying the heaviest of prices.
He continued to ascend without receiving an answer.
And then reached the summit.
(An answer there shall be… after you choose) the voice said as the night began to break and the dawn of a white star briefly appeared before it paused its advance right on the horizon.
Gazing towards the rising sun he saw figures of ash rise from the black sand.
Echoes of his kind materialized from this sand and stared at him as he stood far above them all.
(What will you choose for your people?) She began (What will you choose for us all?).
He saw as more figures emerged from the sand and kneeled before his people.
The echoes of the protoss began to butcher these beings as titanic lumps of ash and sand took the shape of evil and began to kill the others at the behest of his kind.
(Salvation?).
The figures changed once again, now there were not but a few.
Those his people had lorded over laid broken and dead at their feet. The deepest of sorrows was found in the haze of his kind as they cursed the heavens for redemption that would never come.
He saw a reflection of himself in each of them.
As tired and defeated as he was.
Each a champion, each a conqueror, each defeated and each a failure.
(Or… retribution?).
The sea of sand claimed what was hers and destroyed the figures of his people.
He was alone once more.
…
He raised his gaze towards the stars that remained.
Each was so distant.
So far apart from each other.
Yet…
So beautiful in its entirety.
Was he to bring enslavement and madness… or death and regret?
…
What a beautiful view the universe was.
…
Salvation. The lie of Amon.
Retribution. The failure of his people.
…
None.
It was none of those.
The answer would never be any of those.
"None of them…" Xiltar declared "If my people live I will never subject them to either of those fates" he turned his gaze to the dormant crystal that stood at the peak of the temple "My choice is freedom".
He stood in defiance of fate and his now abandoned gods.
He was contradicting everything that had been the entire existence of the protoss as he renounced his fate and enslavement under uncaring beings that had set his kind onto a path of madness.
He stood alone and abandoned as he rejected the machinations of overlords beyond his reach.
He would not yield.
Where none but him remained he stood proud and unshackled.
He pointed a defiant will towards the goddess who dared not speak "What of you?" He called towards her directly "Will you let a traitor destroy the works your kind created or will you allow my people to be the servants of the justice that calls for the dark one's end?" He ignited his blade and raised it to the heavens in defiance "What will you choose, Xel'naga?".
He could sense her fear.
He could feel her doubts.
And he could see her resolve once she spoke.
(Freedom…) A veiled figure materialized below the crystal in the same wisp of clouds as before (I choose freedom… for all of us).
She took the form of a bald terran girl whose most distinct feature were her fierce and defiant golden eyes.
She smiled to him.
With peace in his heart and certainty in his steps he approached the girl.
"What will you have me do?" He extinguished his blade and awaited her reply.
(Too much. He who walks the path I shall lay for him…) she extended a hand for him to take (Come, my wayfarer).
He took the hand and followed the smaller creature as she directed him toward the stairs once more.
She guided him towards their mission.
He followed to defend the only hope for his people.
They fought for the future.
Together…
Afterword.
Would you believe that I wrote the last 5 chapters all within the same day? Probably not.
Have a nice day.
Edit - This is future me and by all that is good I should have read the chapters more than once.
But in all fairness it would seem like that would have ended my journey quite early.