Mass Effect: The Hunt for Saren
folder
+M through R › Mass Effect
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
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30,058
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
+M through R › Mass Effect
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
8
Views:
30,058
Reviews:
17
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Mass Effect, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Mass Effect: The Hunt for Saren
Prologue: Hero's Demise
John Shepard was just a toddler when he stepped aboard his first spaceship. Growing up in a military family as Humanity first began reaching for the stars, his folks never settled down for long. Thus, John Shepard’s home was never bigger than a cabin in a colony ship. But he loved it. He grew up with a constant and implacable hope for the future of the Human Alliance and their place in Citadel Space. Hence, he joined the Alliance military as soon as he turned eighteen, eager to be on the frontier of human interaction with the rest of the galaxy.
For John, it was easy to put the issues of the First Contact War with the Turians behind him. He was young when it happened, and growing up he was always certain that most of the aliens out there were nice people. It was nothing more than a misunderstanding to him, and he found it hard to understand how many Humans still resented the Turians a full generation later for the brief conflict.
Especially on days like today, stationed on a remote world called Akuze, the fellow soldiers under Shepard’s command enjoyed exchanging anti-alien sentiments, joking about their part in the next big war. Anything to take their minds off the miles of sand surrounding their prefab encampment.
“Commander Shepard?” A young private asked, his voice deceptively deep for his childlike face.
John shook himself out of his daydream. He’d just been promoted, and the new rank still sounded alien in his ears.
“Go ahead private,” John responded evenly, unable to recall the private’s name.
“Colonists are in trouble, sir,” the private reported, holding his shimmering omni-tool for his CO to see. “Distress call coming from the edge of the arid region. Some missing farmers.”
“Get the company geared up, and warm up the AFVs,” John said stiffly as he stood up from his desk.
Fifty marines left the base that day.
* * * * *
“Gawd, if one more of those dumbass colonists asks to see my gun, I’m shooting him,” a large corporal said, inspiring laughter amongst his squadmates as Shepard’s company, in six AFVs, patrolled the area where the farmers had gone missing.
Before John could radio for his subordinates to cut the chatter, a giant geyser of mud and dirt erupted just in front of the lead AFV. The explosion was actually the violent surfacing of some kind of gigantic alien worm. It had powerful mandibular jaws, coiled tendrils that shot out towards the AFV, and at least forty feet of it rose out from the ground. It must have been hundreds of feet long.
“What the Hell?!”
“Shoot it!”
“Erickson, get out of there!” Marines filled the radiowaves with fear as they reacted primally.
The front AFV was knocked backwards on its rear axle, flipping squarely onto its roof. Panicked marines scurried out from the vehicle. Only a few bothered to bring their guns, not that it mattered. The four marines who grabbed their assault rifles poured their weapons’ fire into the worm to no avail. It ignored them for another few seconds, coiling the length of its body like a snake about to strike. It then erupted a gout of putrid acid from its gullet, spraying the next closest AFV. The acid seared through the AFV’s wheels, and the driver lost control as the recon vehicle swerved and tumbled onto its side.
“AFVs one and two, stay put, don’t attract the thing’s attention,” John ordered, pretending to have some insight on the strange creature. “The rest of you, move out into a defensive pinwheel. Keep moving and keep your distance. Gunners, open fire!”
Shepard’s remaining four AFVs responded in an orderly fashion, unleashing a circle of rotating fire on the creature. Unfortunately, their lightly equipped AFVs were little more than combat transports: their guns were machine guns meant for antipersonnel use, and even the combined fire seemed to only enrage the beast. That’s when the second one turned up.
It surfaced right in the path of the pinwheel: one AFV crashed into it headlong and another was batted aside by its powerful tendrils even as the Marine driver tried to evade the creature. Shepard was in the AFV that had crashed into the giant monster. A gash had torn across his face, starting at the edge of his lip and going to his cheek, from where his head had impacted the steering column. His men, obedient even in rout, stayed in their transport and shouted at their CO for orders.
“Combat survival men,” John shouted grimly, keying his radio earpiece to make the order universal amongst all his subordinates. “Make for the nearest brush, rocks probably hinder these things best, and make your way back to camp. I’ll try to give covering fire from the gun.”
John and worked his way to the back of the transport’s cabin where the gun turret lay when he realized none of his marines were moving. Private Yurilev, one of the few privates John knew before the Akuze assignment, set his jaw and spoke for the rest of Shepard’s men.
“We’re sticking with you, sir. Come hell or high wa--ah!”
Yurilev broke into a shriek as massive teeth punctured the roof of their vehicle, grazing his helmet and knocking him down to the floor of the cabin. The rest of the marines filed out of the vehicle, assault rifles ready, while John primed the main gun. A second later, he was unleashing a hail of fire into the creature in front of them, his marines lending supporting fire from either side of the vehicle.
The monstrous worm bent itself down, bit the front of Shepard’s AFV and sent it tumbling, end over end, at least twenty meters away. As John struggled to maintain focus, he saw the creatures start tearing into his men, gobbling them by the half-mouthful--snapping a man’s body in half with hasty chomps here, letting its acid slowly burn the flesh of another, body parts falling like crumbs from biscuits. John fought the urge to vomit, but he failed and spilt barf all over the upside-down wreck that had formally been his command AFV.
By the time John was free of the wreckage, the monsters were gone. And so were most of his men. What remained of his men--arms, legs, half of Yurilev’s frightened face now drenched in blood and tattered flesh--would haunt his dreams for years. Somehow, he made it back to the emergency rendezvous point, where his superior officer made a jubilant after-action report:
Commander John Shepard, commanding marine company. Ambushed by new alien lifeforms, dubbed Thresher Maws. Engaged, held order, and was overwhelmed. Only survivor: John Shepard.
John Shepard was just a toddler when he stepped aboard his first spaceship. Growing up in a military family as Humanity first began reaching for the stars, his folks never settled down for long. Thus, John Shepard’s home was never bigger than a cabin in a colony ship. But he loved it. He grew up with a constant and implacable hope for the future of the Human Alliance and their place in Citadel Space. Hence, he joined the Alliance military as soon as he turned eighteen, eager to be on the frontier of human interaction with the rest of the galaxy.
For John, it was easy to put the issues of the First Contact War with the Turians behind him. He was young when it happened, and growing up he was always certain that most of the aliens out there were nice people. It was nothing more than a misunderstanding to him, and he found it hard to understand how many Humans still resented the Turians a full generation later for the brief conflict.
Especially on days like today, stationed on a remote world called Akuze, the fellow soldiers under Shepard’s command enjoyed exchanging anti-alien sentiments, joking about their part in the next big war. Anything to take their minds off the miles of sand surrounding their prefab encampment.
“Commander Shepard?” A young private asked, his voice deceptively deep for his childlike face.
John shook himself out of his daydream. He’d just been promoted, and the new rank still sounded alien in his ears.
“Go ahead private,” John responded evenly, unable to recall the private’s name.
“Colonists are in trouble, sir,” the private reported, holding his shimmering omni-tool for his CO to see. “Distress call coming from the edge of the arid region. Some missing farmers.”
“Get the company geared up, and warm up the AFVs,” John said stiffly as he stood up from his desk.
Fifty marines left the base that day.
* * * * *
“Gawd, if one more of those dumbass colonists asks to see my gun, I’m shooting him,” a large corporal said, inspiring laughter amongst his squadmates as Shepard’s company, in six AFVs, patrolled the area where the farmers had gone missing.
Before John could radio for his subordinates to cut the chatter, a giant geyser of mud and dirt erupted just in front of the lead AFV. The explosion was actually the violent surfacing of some kind of gigantic alien worm. It had powerful mandibular jaws, coiled tendrils that shot out towards the AFV, and at least forty feet of it rose out from the ground. It must have been hundreds of feet long.
“What the Hell?!”
“Shoot it!”
“Erickson, get out of there!” Marines filled the radiowaves with fear as they reacted primally.
The front AFV was knocked backwards on its rear axle, flipping squarely onto its roof. Panicked marines scurried out from the vehicle. Only a few bothered to bring their guns, not that it mattered. The four marines who grabbed their assault rifles poured their weapons’ fire into the worm to no avail. It ignored them for another few seconds, coiling the length of its body like a snake about to strike. It then erupted a gout of putrid acid from its gullet, spraying the next closest AFV. The acid seared through the AFV’s wheels, and the driver lost control as the recon vehicle swerved and tumbled onto its side.
“AFVs one and two, stay put, don’t attract the thing’s attention,” John ordered, pretending to have some insight on the strange creature. “The rest of you, move out into a defensive pinwheel. Keep moving and keep your distance. Gunners, open fire!”
Shepard’s remaining four AFVs responded in an orderly fashion, unleashing a circle of rotating fire on the creature. Unfortunately, their lightly equipped AFVs were little more than combat transports: their guns were machine guns meant for antipersonnel use, and even the combined fire seemed to only enrage the beast. That’s when the second one turned up.
It surfaced right in the path of the pinwheel: one AFV crashed into it headlong and another was batted aside by its powerful tendrils even as the Marine driver tried to evade the creature. Shepard was in the AFV that had crashed into the giant monster. A gash had torn across his face, starting at the edge of his lip and going to his cheek, from where his head had impacted the steering column. His men, obedient even in rout, stayed in their transport and shouted at their CO for orders.
“Combat survival men,” John shouted grimly, keying his radio earpiece to make the order universal amongst all his subordinates. “Make for the nearest brush, rocks probably hinder these things best, and make your way back to camp. I’ll try to give covering fire from the gun.”
John and worked his way to the back of the transport’s cabin where the gun turret lay when he realized none of his marines were moving. Private Yurilev, one of the few privates John knew before the Akuze assignment, set his jaw and spoke for the rest of Shepard’s men.
“We’re sticking with you, sir. Come hell or high wa--ah!”
Yurilev broke into a shriek as massive teeth punctured the roof of their vehicle, grazing his helmet and knocking him down to the floor of the cabin. The rest of the marines filed out of the vehicle, assault rifles ready, while John primed the main gun. A second later, he was unleashing a hail of fire into the creature in front of them, his marines lending supporting fire from either side of the vehicle.
The monstrous worm bent itself down, bit the front of Shepard’s AFV and sent it tumbling, end over end, at least twenty meters away. As John struggled to maintain focus, he saw the creatures start tearing into his men, gobbling them by the half-mouthful--snapping a man’s body in half with hasty chomps here, letting its acid slowly burn the flesh of another, body parts falling like crumbs from biscuits. John fought the urge to vomit, but he failed and spilt barf all over the upside-down wreck that had formally been his command AFV.
By the time John was free of the wreckage, the monsters were gone. And so were most of his men. What remained of his men--arms, legs, half of Yurilev’s frightened face now drenched in blood and tattered flesh--would haunt his dreams for years. Somehow, he made it back to the emergency rendezvous point, where his superior officer made a jubilant after-action report:
Commander John Shepard, commanding marine company. Ambushed by new alien lifeforms, dubbed Thresher Maws. Engaged, held order, and was overwhelmed. Only survivor: John Shepard.