13 years ago

Lycaonth

The massive forests of Lycaonth, once upon a time, could have been described as beautiful, colossal, a monument of natural order and beauty. The same could not be said of them now; deep gashes in the earth and scorched patches of woodlands laid bare were the telltale signs that the Guardian Wars had spread further into the Alliance colony worlds. The battle for the Barrows Sector was balanced on the point of a knife; a single move could insure the Bannockburn Alliance either success, or complete failure in turning the tide, and reclaiming Lycaonth. The battle that lay ahead would alter the course of the war, and influence the events to follow drastically.

Barrows Sector

August 27th, 2653

17:42 GMT

The dull boom of the battle rumbled off in the distance, as Echo Squad padded softly through the undergrowth. The dying sunlight filtering through the treetops high above glinted off their faded grey armor. On their shoulder plates, their rank stripes and division insignias clung to the well-worn plate, the paint dulled and chipped. The squad leader, a faded white stripe down the center of his helmet, paused and raised his clenched fist to shoulder height. Halt. The rest of the squad complied, shouldering their weapons and flowed to a stop. The leader glanced around him, searching for some unknown threat, before finally breaking the silence on the inner-helmet comm. system. "Hadley, please tell me that you upgraded the motion detectors on the suits. Otherwise, we've got some mighty big squirrels coming in." "Sarge, I remember the flak you gave the Tech depot after that last ambush, with the syndic Heavy Ass team. I tweaked the sensors to pick up the energy frequency of the cloaking device and the displaced heat from the shield generators, as well as natural life" quipped Hadley, as she too began scanning into the distance, swung her shotgun back down, and chambered a round.

The squad fell silent, as a deep, dull throbbing hum, far off in the distance, slowly began to grow louder, closer and closer. "Ad Testudinem" the sergeant whispered, and the squad complied, forming into a box shape, bristling with weapons pointed outwards. Suddenly, like some massive, blooming flower, their shields activated, encompassing them in an EDB. The hum grew into a loud roar, as it grew closer. "Hold," he muttered, trying to lock onto the shapes on the motion detector. The roar grew louder, the foliage around them rustling, as the closest inborn shape solidified into a yellow triangle. Unidentified Aircraft. "Sarge?" Red triangle.

With an explosion of sound and heat, a Mjolnir dropship hurtled through the greenery and stopped, hovering yards away from the squad. All their weapons were trained on the cockpit, emergency exit ports, and bay doors, when the sergeant held his clenched fist up again. Confused, they lowered their weapons a few degrees, when he finally spoke, bellowing to be heard over the turbines of the ship. "It's alright lads, it's just our ride. There's only one person I know who could have pulled this kind of heist," said the sergeant, while angrily slapping his horizontally-spread hand downwards, glaring at the pilot in the dropship. Land. The dropship complied, unleashing a cloud of dust and dirt as it descended, the bay doors sliding open. Standing in the bay, leaning against the door, was a lightly built, short woman, bright blonde hair draping over her faded black armor. Cradled in her arms, almost as fondly as a mother holds her child, was a bolt-shot sniper rifle. Her bright green eyes glinted happily as she beheld the squad, still in formation. "Long time no see, Shepard. Miss me?"

~-~-~-~-~

Half an hour later, the squad was airborne, inbound to their target. When the bay doors finally sealed shut, the squad took off their helmets with a ragged hiss. Shepard, the sergeant, let out a contented sigh as the cold air blew upon his sweat-dampened hair and face. His stormy blue eyes glanced around the room, taking everything in. His cropped, rust red hair clung limply to his head, in sharp contrast with his pale skin. Sitting next to him in the crowded hangar bay of the dropship was Hadley, Echo Two, the squad's techie, leaning against Shepard, dead asleep. Her unorthodox long, black hair hung in her face, eyes closed from exhaustion. Across from him was PFC Simpson, Echo Four, the demolitions expert, his short-cut, mangy, curly brown hair muffled in a bandanna, his grey eyes glistening with curiosity as he fiddled with a dead detonation pack. Leaning in the port between the bay and the cockpit was Lily, eyes glinting as she cleaned the barrel of her rifle, also keeping an eye on Shepard. The rest of Shepard’s squad was similarly diverted by either cleaning their equipment or relaxing as best as they could in their cramped seats. A rapid pulse of beeps emitted from the indented dome in the center of the bay as it slowly rose level with Shepard’s knees, where it promptly burst into a schism of light, before stabilizing into the somber, armored figure of Cdr. Bane, frame wavering as the transmission signal flickered.

 Shepard leaned forward expectantly, ripping off a worn salute, blue eyes locked on Bane’s ancient silver eyes. Hadley snapped back into consciousness, deep brown eyes slightly fogged over with sleepiness, but still sharply attentive. Bane grimaced ruefully, waving off Shepard’s salute. “No need for formalities, Shepard. Where you’re going, worrying over an ill-placed salute will be the least of your worries.”  Shepard grimaced as well, as the form of Bane flickered out entirely, replaced by a 3-D model of a military base. Simpson glanced up at the base in curiosity. "Gentlemen- and ladies," started Bane, “This is your objective. This is the shield generator powering the cloaking shroud over the Syndic base. You need to disable the shield, and place a beacon in the center of the base, giving coordinates to the fleet in orbit. Once they have the coordinates, they will be able to bombard the base back to Asgard." The model zoomed out, showing a heavily forested area surrounding the base, a wall of bunkers and artillery pieces encompassing it.

Bane continued. "As you can see, a land-based attack is simply out of the question. Any infantry or assault craft would be decimated within moments." Bane paused, speaking his next words directly for Shepard. "I heartily believe that a repeat of New Haven would be best avoided.” Shepard's eyes glinted with pain and memories for a moment. "Understood, sir. A stupid question, but how are you planning on getting us in?" Bane's voice grew lighter. "Here's where you can have some fun, Echo Team. You all can finally use those jump packs." A small 3-D dropship appeared on the screen, approaching the base rapidly. "The dropship that your charming Miss Harcourt stole will be able to get you past the outer perimeter safely and straight through the base's airspace itself." Lily muttered something about creative acquisitioning, and Simpson and Hadley grinned knowingly. As the dropship approached the base, ten miniature armored figures- Echo, Shepard realized- hurtled from the bay, and descended rapidly onto the base. "An aerial assault is our only chance. Once you are inside, you must make your way to the core and disable the generator. I'm quite sure you can think of something creative." Base, troopers and dropship flickered out, and Bane reappeared, smirking grimly. Shepard grimaced. The last time he had jumped, his pack malfunctioned, and he crashed, spending several months in a Syndic labor camp.  Pushing these memories aside, Shepard spoke. "Sir, with all due respect, but how the TRAV do you expect to get us out!? Once we jump, this ship will be a target for the aardies below." Shepard bellowed, his eyes bored into Bane's with an intensity that could out-burn the sun. Bane glared back furiously, eyes glittering with pain and wrath. "Sergeant-Major Shepard, stand down. There will be no loss in your numbers today, not if I can help it. This is not going to become a massacre, Shepard." Bane's eyes softened. "You have my word. I will do everything within my power to insure you and your crew comes home safely." Shepard visibly relaxed, his eyes suddenly millennia older than the rest of him. A silence fell over the crowded bay, until Shepard finally broke the silence. "What's the ETA?" "Three minutes," said Bane, glancing over Echo crouching in their seats listening intently. "So you'd better get busy."

~-~-~-~-~-~

All was pitch black as Echo Squad rappelled down into the core of the base. The darkness was soon pierced by the helmets' flood lights as they explored their surroundings. "Echo Lead to Bravo. We’re in." Shepard muttered into his comlink, as he gazed around the room. The cavernous pig-iron walls stretched high seemingly unto the heavens. The concrete floor was worn smooth from millions of feet tramping across for years. In the center of the room, the final barrier between them and the generator stood defiantly: a massive, armor-plated, towering set of doors, bolts smoothly melding into the walls surrounding them. Behind the visor of his helmet, Shepard frowned somberly. This was all too easy.

 "You having a party down there, Echo?" Bane quipped. "Patience, Bravo" Shepard said, as he signaled Simpson with a flick of the wrist to detonate the door, before switching to the private channel among the squad. "Hadley, stand by. Hudson, O’Brian, flank. Lily-" "I know, I know Jackie, cover your six," murmured Lily, from her position behind a rifle rack, not moving a muscle as she stared intently though her scope, focused at the door. Shepard grinned again, then hurriedly slid to the wall, flanking the door, rifle at the ready. Fractions of seconds passed by like hours as Simpson placed dets on each bolt and the center of the door as the rest of the squad took up flanking and firing positions around the room.  Time seemed to stand still.

 "Clear!" yelled Simpson, as he dove for cover, and the dets exploded in a storm of white light, painful noise, and billowing clouds of dust. When they could see again, the doors were blown inward, torn apart. "Echoes 3, 5, 6, 8, and Agent Shadowfax, clear to enter" boomed Bane over the shared channel. “I thought you’d never ask,” muttered Lily, as she and the four selected troops ran in firing, two of them carrying the beacon. Shepard’s eyes flared under his helmet, but showed no other signs of emotion as he, Hadley, and Simpson covered their flank at the gateway. The core room seemed much darker, as the shadows drew closer in. Silence fell. In Shepard’s HUD, a small light, shaped like a radio tower, began flashing persistently. The beacon was in place and signaling. Then, all went wrong. In Shepard’s HUD, the remaining status symbols of Echo, one by one, flickered out, replaced by a dull, pulsating red X. Vitals lost. “Shadowfax, status report, over,” Shepard muttered anxiously into the mike. No response came back, just the haunting static of a dead comlink. “Lily, please, respond.” Again, no answer. Shepard looked across at Hadley and Simpson, and knew that they were checking too. Hadley fondled her shotgun stock anxiously, as she kept a steady watch over the still smoking doorway. Something was terribly wrong. Deep in the shadows, a soft, nondescript sound rang out, like oiled steel on a leather sheath. A cold chill ran down Shepard’s spine. “IR filters,” whispered Shepard, over the private link. As the filter set in, Shepard checked his surroundings with a new light. The area around the doorway glowed a vivid orange, still radiating heat from the demolition charge. Shepard’s, Simpson’s, and Hadley’s sealed armor were coated with a pleasant turquoise, as cold as the walls around them. And high up on the walls, in a massive cluster of shifting greys and blues.. oh shhiii- clinging to the walls, almost invisible to the bare eye, were hundreds of Syndic bezerkers, rappelling down fast, energy blades bursting to life with a horrendous buzz. Without a word, the remnant of Echo opened fire on the oncoming horde, Hadley pumping round after round into the swarms, Simpson ripping rows apart with his minigun, and Shepard charging in with his melee rifle shredding in its path, the cavernous hall ringing with the sounds of battle cries, the thundering gunfire, and the endless hail of shells on the ground. Seconds passed by like hours, minutes like years. Without warning, Shepard was knocked off his feet, the wind knocked out of him. Pinning him to the floor was a massive syndic, eyes glittering with fury, blade lifted high for a final retributional strike. “Hello beastie,” Shepard muttered, as the blade reached to the heavens, and began to swing downwards, to his doom.

~-~-~-~-~

Now

The Crimson Blade

Shepard woke with a gasp, and sat up in his bunk, eyes wide open, wild and haunted, before he recollected himself. He had barely survived the escape from the base, and the war had continued like nothing had happened. The tags of his fallen squadmates had been recorded for official purposes, of course, but aside from that.. nothing. Nothing to acknowledge that the mission had ever occurred, that the slaughter of 5 Guardians had happened. Hadley sat in the bunk across from him, stormy blue eyes glinting with slight worry and sadness. “Remembering Lycaonth again?” “You have no idea..” muttered Shepard, smiling wornly and softly.