Focus. This is it. First mission in front of the big-dick Normandy big shots and a fucking spectre. Fucking up would not only make me an embarrassment to the Alliance but put me on the council's shit list too.
But there was nothing like being close to certain death and debasement that sent adrenaline through my veins.
And I fuckin' love that feeling.
New information was afforded to me by Anderson over the comms. He said that I was to track the movements of any hostiles via LIDAR and keep eyes on a Prothean beacon we were picking up.
Yeah, that information would have been helpful to know before I signed on. Not because it scared me, but because it meant shooting things was not part of the plan for the most part. If it moved, I couldn't fire upon its thieves and risk its destruction.
Boring.
But 'tis the life of a pilot. I'm not saying that I'm incapable of precision and restraining myself, but I am saying that shit is boring and I don't have a 30mm cannon to then not use it.
Anderson and the ground team met in the hanger just beside my fighter, looking up at me in the cockpit. I opened it up to greet the team.
"Greetings, gentlemen." I gave 'em a mock salute with the limited range of motion I had in the form-fitting cockpit.
Shepard returned the mock salute with a smile, "Hey Ace, ready to be our eye in the sky?"
"You know it, and if you need the sky to fall in any particular location, just laze it for me and cover your ears." I shot a smirk at the crew.
"I might just take you up on that just to hear that Judgement fire, music to a grunt's ears." It was true. To an Alliance soldier, the sound of a judgement meant that your squad was going to have a very easy time clearing what remained of the enemy.
"Don't tempt me with a good time." I quipped. "Alright, time to get this show on the road, good luck down there, y'all." I got serious and closed the canopy, prepping for departure. The ground team took a step back. It was about to get pretty loud.
I closed the canopy and commed to Joker who was on the catapult launching the fighter. "Okay, Joker, I'm prepped for takeoff, count me down." I sturdied myself in my seat, placing my hands firmly on the steering wheel, loosening up my fingers in anticipation.
"Alright, hotshot. Let's do it." Just then, the bay doors opened revealing the picture-esque view of Eden Prime, tainted by the smoke and flames of war. The wind was strong, buffeting the ground team visibly. We were about angels 1, 1000 meters about the ground. I switched my thrusters on standby and readied my throttle.
"Launching catapult in 3...2...1." The catapult sprang to life, as I felt a slight push from the back, the guides rumbling overhead. It continued all the way up to the bay doors, where it jolted as the fighter disconnected from the guides with a high-pitched clank. I let it glide through the air for a few seconds to clear the hangar bay, feeling my stomach drop a bit. Then, I punched the throttle to 100% as the engines roared to life, screaming to life as I cleared the Normandy.
"Okay, secure and aweigh, see you on the far side, Shepard."
"Copy, Ace. Get a full panel of scans up and running from a safe altitude, Joker will be in standby orbit after he gets us to the drop zone."
"Aye aye."
I checked my internal dampeners to make sure I was at 50%, just how I like it. I made a few light turns to confirm this as I made my way into a holding pattern over the combat zone. It was a small outpost on Eden Prime next to the spaceport. These people were not prepared to fight a force like this, especially that damn dreadnought. That was an image I couldn't get out of my head. It was the most peculiar thing, and pretty damn scary too.
Hopefully, it'll be too big to even care about me flying around.
"Okay, ground team has landed, get us eyes Ace," Shepard was a little green blip on my LIDAR.
"Okay, boss running the scans now," I flipped through my cockpit HUD and selected my recon scanner and began a full sweep. Infrared picked up nothing but what was already there. I maneuvered over where Shepard and the crew were headed, and my visual scans made me wish I didn't have such great zoom on this recon module.
Bodies. Holy shit.
Civvies, looked like most of em, were strewn about the spaceport, and that was just from my angle. It was a fucking massacre. At least 100 bodies were mangled, beaten, burned, and shot through with blood scattering the cargo and walls. It seems so impersonal from up here. I always kind of understood why the infantry call us 'pussies' sometimes. We're not down in the thick of it, the horror. It's hard to get PTSD from 3 thousand meters up and your gun just kind of disintegrates what its pointing at. I had seen my share of shit with Batarian pirates, but getting close to the carnage was never in the mission parameters for a guy like me. I tapped into my comms to relay the info to the ground, a bit flustered.
"Shepard, lots of dead civvies at the spaceport. It's a fuckin' massacre, taking a look near the dig site now."
"Copy, Ace"
I peeped into my recon display in the middle of my steering, using the haptic joysticks to get a look at the dig site while I was on an automatic holding pattern program. I'm lucky it was a clear day with light clouds at high altitude. I pointed the camera at what I knew was supposed to be the dig site. It was conspicuously missing the Prothean beacon and had… some kind of synthetic people guarding it. Then, a human came out, straining to break free from one of those robot's detainment. The synthetics looked odd. A big flashlight head, kind of looking like it was hunched over. The synthetics were leading the battered human towards some kind of…platform thing. The poor guy was struggling with all his might, but it was clear from his bleeding forehead that he was spent.
"Shepard, I got a live civvie being detained by unknown synthetic enemy combatants 400 meters from your location. Stay sharp down there."
Then, he got fucking impaled, blood gushing from this chest as he rose to the sky, then dripping down the spike.
"Nevermind, Shepard, he's gone. They stuck him on some kind of, spike. You'll see it when you're there."
"Copy Ace-"Just then, I heard a hail gun fire and labored running through the comm. They had made contact.
"Contact, Ace, confirmed Geth presence at the colony." Shepard yelled into the comm before cutting out.
Geth? I had no idea what they really looked like, so that came as a surprise. I was under the impression that they kept to themselves out in the veil. Why the fuck are they attacking a human colony?
"Copy, Shepard. You know what to do if things get dicey." I was looking for an excuse to fire the buzzsaw. I'm sure they'd be fine down there, but is it bad that I almost wanted them to get pinned down?
With that thought, I transferred my LIDAR data to the ground team's HUD. They got a detailed, real-time reading of enemy contacts that I picked up. It was manageable for them, for sure. Nihilus was a few hundred meters ahead of them by this point, not picking up a ton of contacts. I was less worried about the spectre, fucker like to 'work on his own'. Kind of a dipshit if you ask me. But I guess spectres aren't really team players. I kept less attention on him, he can obviously handle himself.
Shepard's team slowly inched their way forward into the dig site, when I spotted an Alliance designation on my radar. It wasn't near any of the ground team, and it looked to be running from multiple hostile units. I turned the camera to the marked area and took a closer look at the designation. It displayed near her radar dot:
212th INF, WILLIAMS, ASHLEY
That was no one on the ground team, I decided to keep Shepard updated.
"Heads up, Shepard, you got a friendly being pursue by hostiles 100 meters front."
"Affirm, civilian or military?"
"212th infantry, commander"
"Copy that."
Just as he got off comms, I noticed that my radar was looking a bit more red than usual. Wait. A lot more red than usual. looks like 20 Geth units were on their way. Each sweep on the display conjured up more hostile readings.
I shot my hand to my shoulder to get on the radio, "Shepard! Huge hostile presence on the lone marine, prepare for a fucking fight!"
"Copy!" that's all Shepard said before he engaged the horde. Kaidan and Jenkins tried with all their might to hold on, but the hail of steel was too much. They were pinned down, although I got no target mark.
Fuck it.
"Shepard, I'm on approach, danger close! I repeat, danger close! It's about to get hot!"
"Ace, hold fire, it's too dangerous!"
"You're about to get fucking swarmed so pick your fucking poison. Plus, trust me, I can hit my damn targets" I looked at my GPS and trajectory projector. My approach wasn't locked yet but it was getting close. I armed my buzzsaw cannon with a quick flip of the switch cover above the trigger button.
There was a prolonged silence on the radio, then Shepard spoke up. "Fuck it, do it Ace, and don't fucking miss"
I locked my approach and readied my trigger finger. There was no margin for error. They were 50 meters out from the target area. Any stray bullet would mean death. "With pleasure, time on target 15 seconds. Cover your fuckin' ears"
My HUD switched to manual targeting mode. I was firing from the hip, no way I was getting a laze with how pinned down they were. My jet screamed through the cloud cover, the turbulent air buffeting the canopy as I was about to approach the firing window. I had 1 second of trigger time. Anymore and I'd plummet right into the ground. I had to get close enough to where my cone of fire wouldn't hit anyone friendly.
500 meters. Warning. Warning. The feminine VI blared into my headset.
"Just a bit closer…"
350 meters. Pull up. Pull up. I wasn't even looking at my air speed reading. No room to think, doubt, or analyze.
Just do.
Pull up
"C'mon, just a little more girl."
200 meters. Pull-up
"Fire"
I let loose the cannon. The muzzle flash blanketed the bottom of my field of vision as it let out its trademark report. The chassis rattled under the recoil force. I couldn't even see the impact, just had to trust my gut that I didn't just turn commander Shepard and his friends into a pile of red mush. I saw the flashes of the massive HE rounds hitting the ground.
Such is the life of close air support.
I let off the trigger.
Throttle down. Pull hard. Push up.
I let off the throttle for just enough to send my plane into a light pitched up spin, then gunned them as fast as I could. The rush is intense. I fucking live for moments like this.
I felt all the blood try to vacate my skull in an instant. My VI was nice to inform me that, I was way over safe G-force parameters as if my panting and straining didn't inform me plenty. If I hadn't had internal dampeners on at all, I'd have been a paralyzed vegetable.
OVER – G : 20G
I finally got into a sustainable fast climb back into my holding altitude for recon. I quickly checked all my instruments, green across the board, minus 104 rounds of ammunition. I turned my head back around to get a confirmation, and saw a totaled field of ash, rocks, and a lot of dead geth.
That's when, a few seconds later, I got relief that I didn't just commit the most infamous friendly fire incident in Alliance history.
"Holy shit, Ace. Target destroyed. All enemies KIA." Shepard exclaimed over the radio in a slight enthusiasm. I could hear Kaidan and, presumably, that Alliance marine whooping and hollering.
"Told ya I wouldn't miss. Procced as usual, commander. Going back to holding pattern." I took deep breaths in and out, chuckling in between each breath with the adrenaline still coursing through my veins. My chuckling turned into a full on laugh, with a bit hollerin' and whoopin'.
If that's what I get to do for this whole posting, then sign me the fuck up for an extension.
We eventually found our spectre confidant Nihilus dead. If the bastard had just come with us, none of this wouldn't have happened. What was peculiar about it was Shepard found him with a gunshot wound to the back of the head, so it definitely wasn't geth. Moreover, some dock worker that got lucky said that one of his turian "friends" shot him, like a benedict Arnold type of situation. Now, its getting interesting.
The dreadnought has still not sent out any fighters or attempted to shoot me down yet. I eyed up its eldritch visage every now and then to make sure I didn't have company up here.
But as I passed over the spaceport to obtain forward recon, I soon realized that my company was coming from below, at a few thousand meters per second as a flash appeared from below.
Shit, flak.
The AA at the spaceport was still online for God knows what reason, probably the geth. The first few shells exploded worryingly close to my fighter, pieces of shrapnel shaving off my paint job and a bit a metal with it. I could feel the explosion rattle my brain as I quickly turned and burned for evasive maneuvers.
"All be advised, the AA is still active at the spaceport and targeting friendlies, Ace-1 defending." We had no idea where to turn off the AA, so it was likely that I'd just have to get the fuck out now and stay that way. Only long-range recon for the rest of the mission.
My contemplation was interrupted with another shell getting dangerously close and blasting right on my nose, chipping off some of the chassis. I started turning way harder and cranked the throttle up to 100%. It was a stamina game now, and with some luck, I won't have substantial damage.
Okay. Hold breath. I got lungs' full of breath, keeping my chest tight, and let air pool in my head as I squeezed all the musles in my face as hard as I could.
Turn.
Repeat.
I was keeping the blood in my head as best as I could. The G-counter was rising higher and higher with each move, flak audibly whizzing by and exploding overhead. I felt my consciousness slipping, but luckily a gap in the fire gave me breathing room, and I leveled out and climbed.
Well, I guess I know my no-fly zone now.
Shepard and his team made their way through the space port and boarded the tram, with me observing ahead at angels 4, just below the clouds.
That was a close one.
The tram finally made it to its destination. I took a peep through all the signature channels of the recon module. When I came across thermal, I noticed something off. There were geth putting down a few hexagonal looking things that emitted a slight thermal signature. I overlayed EM frequency display to get a better idea of what they were. Something was connecting all the devices to… some kind of pulse? Timers. That's when I knew exactly what they were doing.
"Shepard, there are five bombs the geth planted in your AO, they're evacuating for a detonation. You gotta get those bombs disarmed yesterday!"
Shepard gave a loud copy. "Got it, ace. Jenkins, take the closest one, we'll cover you!"
They leapfrogged to each bomb, taking turns on defuse duty. It was a pretty simple process, with omni-tools that the Alliance issued. But as I was watching Jenkins defuse the last bomb, I noticed a geth sniper with a damn good shot. Jenkins was not being covered from that angle. He was on the bomb completely exposed. My hand practically teleported to the comm to warn him.
"Jenkins, sniper! Get down!"
I was too late.
The shot blew his head clean off in a red mist.
"FUCK! Jenkins is KIA." Shepard was pissed, and rightfully so. But the combat continued as Ashley was quickly ordered on the bomb. The defuse succeeded as Shepard and Kaidan sent a flurry of bullet and biotic fire until the guns went silent, husks and geth strew about the battlefield.
Shepard hopped on the comm, and took a somber tone, exhausted as he panted for breath. "Joker, this is Shepard, Jenkins is KIA…Have him set for a retrieval team."
"Aye aye, commander."
Damnit.
The team advanced slowly up to the beacon, where it was guarded by a last wave of husks. The team had no problem dealing with them. I decided to get a full panel of readings on the beacon, to satisfy my curiosity.
Woah.
There was a huge amount of EMF radiation coming off of it. Nothing ionizing and dangerous, but certainly noteworthy. Thermal readings were surprisingly low, as if nothing was actually going on inside it. Lots of eezo inside, but what was odd is some of the frequency intervals were completely absent. As if someone just deleted them from the readings. No slope down or anything, just blank. I double checked my instruments with diagnostics, and nothing was picking up at all.
Strange.
Shepard and the team approached the beacon. I decided to let 'em know.
"Shepard, picking up a ton of EMF radiation from the beacon. Not ionizing but be careful around that thing."
"Copy, Ace. We'll keep a safe distanc-"
Just as he was talking, I saw Ashley being pulled towards the beacon, and convulsing in some odd way. Like her brain just got hit with sensory overload. She was sliding across the ground right towards it.
Shepard turned around and sprinted towards Ashley, grappling her, and heaving her away from the beacon. But he got caught in the pull as a result, convulsing in the same manner, like a standing fetal position of sorts. Then it pulled him into the air, looking like he was being crucified by this thing.
There was nothing I could do. Just hovering thousands of meters away and completely helpless.
I'm so fired.
The beacon violently exploded, knocking Shepard several meters back as his head slammed onto the steel docks.
"Shepard, do you read!? Shepard!" I tried to get any sort of response out of him, but Kaidan piped up first.
"He's out cold, Ace. Call Medivac now!"
"Joker, this is Ace, Shepard is in critical condition send medivac now!"
Joker sounded exacerbated, his voice full of worry and urgency. "Okay, ace. Dropping from orbit ETA 5 minutes."
And here I was, just flying by as if it was just a leisurely Sunday cruise. No realities of war, no taking shots to my chest, no blood and gore, none of that. Looking down at the carnage from thousands of meters up, letting the grunts suffer below. The geth were long gone by now.
I saw the Normandy right above me deploy the medivac shuttle, flying low in the canyon below the docks to avoid the AA targeting. Some one was gonna have to go shut that thing off eventually, but we have a lot more pressing matters, like two casualties under my overwatch.
Fuck, this debriefing is gonna be my resignation. So much for "wanting" them to get pinned down.
Thanks for reading! All critiques welcome! Just PM me or leave a comment. I'm relatively new to this, so all of it is well-taken.
Now onto Chapter 3, where Ace will finally get out of his jet and meet the riff-raff on the Citadel.
Happy New Year!
Some military lingo for the future:
Angels: increments of altitude in a thousand meters, angels 3 = 3000 meters alt. for example
Bingo: out of any ammunition/fuel. "bingo fuel" for example
Splash: Said when any missile/armament has a desired hit.