Post by Mister Buch on May 30, 2012 4:07:10 GMT 1
Mass Effect: Lord of Hunters
Based on a true story.
In her two hundred years, Saria had never been to Tuchanka. In the hot, noisy cramped conditions of the Alliance Kodiak she rode in, all she could do was peer through the windshield at the planet's surface. But there was nothing to look at. Nothing to honour. Rusted metal, grey wind and dust. The krogan homeland. Everything they fought to protect, and to hide.
She grimaced, pretending to the pilot that there was dust in her face. The krogan were not to be pitied. If the last few centuries had taught the galaxy anything, it was that. She was here now to fight with them.
Or rather for them. The majority of the Urdnot forces were currently orbiting Palaven, aiming to save it. The four-person unit Saria had been assigned to that morning was without a single krogan member. There was a male human, herself, a geth of all things and a drell. These 'N7 missions' were extraordinary. Human, asari, geth and drell as brothers in arms, on Tuchanka.
She had never seen a drell, either. The wax-skinned man sat opposite her certainly looked like everything she had imagined, he filled the stereotypes and filled her head with curiosity. His black billiard-ball eyes moistened themselves very regularly, like a facial tic but not so self-conscious. His black leather jacket, opened wide at the chest to free his skin, shone a little. With heavy armour surrounding him on all sides but not touching him, he seemed impossibly serene. He had been silent on the trip here. Motionless. She thought back to the stories she had heard of his race and their land and smiled, despite herself.
"Yeeeeah!" the drell yelped, suddenly. The voice came through Saria's helmet speaker a little tinny, but he was much higher-pitched than she had expected. Younger, like a human girl.
"Here we go!" he cried. "Kickin' ass! Woo!"
Before Saria could even wonder how to reply, the shuttle was landing. The air was thicker, the rust was darker, the geth by her side gurgled fuel as he alligned and prepared a long, straight steel rifle. Cerberus troops were already visible on the horizon, and the bullets were already zipping by Saria's ears.
The drell, his lips as straight and solemn as ever, ran toward them, performing a series of flips and cartwheels as he went.
'I'm the karate kid!' he screamed. Saria felt the weight of her shotgun and stared for a moment, then found cover.
The firefight was like any other. Saria was used to them now, and without Reapers in the skyline it was impossible for her to be frightened anymore. The fight was hard, but did not shake her. The team of four strangers, four species, got on well. The Cerberus scouts went down easily while the Alliance's cobbled-together unit got things done: activing communications relays, downloading data, taking out what they were assured were 'key figures' but which seemed for all the world to be front-line footsoldiers. Yesterday a limping husk had been 'key personnel'. What was he in charge of, anyway? And so it went on.
But always in the foreground, mumbling to himself in his strange voice, was the drell.
"Ugh!" he would cry, flipping over and over, kicking at the air. "You like that? Huh? You want some more?!" Perhaps via the element of surprise alone, he survived. Biotic fists, glowing grenades and shotgun bullets flew all around him and sometimes actually cleared a good path for the other three.
"I got a shotgun!" he would often tell the Cerberus soldiers. "SHOTGUN, yeeeeahhhh!"
At the end of the fith bout of gunfire, Saria leaned into her cover and mused. His success notwithstanding, this man was just not what Saria would have ever expected of his people.
Perhaps she was simply racially prejudiced, simply ignorant after so long on Thessia. Perhaps the stereotypes were nonsense. Those images of quiet, deep-throated, tortured martyrs, groaning their strange religious oaths before vanishing into the shadows. So mysterious and unworldly. So selfless and insular. So deep, like the oceans of Kahje...
The drell jumped in front of Saria and began kicking her in the face, spinning around and around with his extremely acroboatic if poorly aimed assault, grunting and yelling constantly.
"Yeah, I'm doing karate on you, asari!" he explained, unecessarily. "Karate moves! See what you got!" Saria looked at him and tried to speak.
The moment the battle returned, however, so did the drell's sense of purpose. He was off like a high-kicking, spinning shot, whirling into the enemy, panting, smashing, charging his barriers and very frequently narrating. "I took your shield!" he would say, having removed a centurion's shield. "You want to see what I got? Huh! I'm karate and... half karate... half awesome!"
Eventually, as it always did, the fight became too much. Cerberus' quick Phantom-class soldiers were on the field, snipers were everywhere and invisible. As the N7 unit pulled back to a walled-off ruin, they heard something in the distance.
"Awwww, there it is!" said the drell, helpfully.
The first missile drew their eyes before the arm that fired it, but they all knew immedately that Cerberus had unleashed an Atlas mech. Silently, the man, asari and geth steeled themselves, tightened their knuckles around triggers and empied their heads of thought. The man and geth, better at long-range combat, rolled out of the empty brown windows and drew the mech's attention.
The desperate move failed quickly when the geth was blown apart and 'bled out' during the retreat.
The three remaining suad-members reloaded for want of something to do and made a show of picking off the two cerberus operatives close enough to take down.
"God damn..." the drell began again, and Saria turned to him, wide-eyed.
"I feel bad for our team-mate, guys," he said, and Saria wanted to agree.
"Pray to him," said the drell. "Aw, pray to him, people."
Saria tried to speak.
"Wait. Why the hell am I praying to a robot? Robots don't have God. I'm praying to a robot!"
The pounding of the Atlas' feet against Tuchanka's battered, uncomplaining surface grew louder. The ground shook more and more. The dust flew up at their chests.
"Stoopid fat... Atlas!" He stopped, looked up. 'Fatlas! Time to do some... shotgun and karate stuff! Ugh! Uuuuuugh! C'mon let's dance!' And he was off, spinning and kicking, rolling back and forth and screaming with punches.
When Saria and the human dared to join the fight, it was over. The Atlas exploded. The geth staggered to its feet. The Kodiak slammed down through orbit to the ground, calling for them to hurry. The drell ran around in circles, firing a submachine gun into the air and shouting that he was 'kissing the sky'.
As Saria and the others climbed back into the shuttle and the roar of the engines resumed, she heard a loud click as her helmet speaker shut off. The drell, facing her again, went still and silent. The wet, soft black eyes stared again, the innocent greyish pupils at their centres narrowing.
Saria had never visited Tuchanka, but she would forget the planet quickly. Today something greater and more alien had occured. She had learned of the drell's culture, religion and power. Seen them at their best.
And more than that, truly, today she had come face-to-face with Amonkira.
Based on a true story.
In her two hundred years, Saria had never been to Tuchanka. In the hot, noisy cramped conditions of the Alliance Kodiak she rode in, all she could do was peer through the windshield at the planet's surface. But there was nothing to look at. Nothing to honour. Rusted metal, grey wind and dust. The krogan homeland. Everything they fought to protect, and to hide.
She grimaced, pretending to the pilot that there was dust in her face. The krogan were not to be pitied. If the last few centuries had taught the galaxy anything, it was that. She was here now to fight with them.
Or rather for them. The majority of the Urdnot forces were currently orbiting Palaven, aiming to save it. The four-person unit Saria had been assigned to that morning was without a single krogan member. There was a male human, herself, a geth of all things and a drell. These 'N7 missions' were extraordinary. Human, asari, geth and drell as brothers in arms, on Tuchanka.
She had never seen a drell, either. The wax-skinned man sat opposite her certainly looked like everything she had imagined, he filled the stereotypes and filled her head with curiosity. His black billiard-ball eyes moistened themselves very regularly, like a facial tic but not so self-conscious. His black leather jacket, opened wide at the chest to free his skin, shone a little. With heavy armour surrounding him on all sides but not touching him, he seemed impossibly serene. He had been silent on the trip here. Motionless. She thought back to the stories she had heard of his race and their land and smiled, despite herself.
"Yeeeeah!" the drell yelped, suddenly. The voice came through Saria's helmet speaker a little tinny, but he was much higher-pitched than she had expected. Younger, like a human girl.
"Here we go!" he cried. "Kickin' ass! Woo!"
Before Saria could even wonder how to reply, the shuttle was landing. The air was thicker, the rust was darker, the geth by her side gurgled fuel as he alligned and prepared a long, straight steel rifle. Cerberus troops were already visible on the horizon, and the bullets were already zipping by Saria's ears.
The drell, his lips as straight and solemn as ever, ran toward them, performing a series of flips and cartwheels as he went.
'I'm the karate kid!' he screamed. Saria felt the weight of her shotgun and stared for a moment, then found cover.
The firefight was like any other. Saria was used to them now, and without Reapers in the skyline it was impossible for her to be frightened anymore. The fight was hard, but did not shake her. The team of four strangers, four species, got on well. The Cerberus scouts went down easily while the Alliance's cobbled-together unit got things done: activing communications relays, downloading data, taking out what they were assured were 'key figures' but which seemed for all the world to be front-line footsoldiers. Yesterday a limping husk had been 'key personnel'. What was he in charge of, anyway? And so it went on.
But always in the foreground, mumbling to himself in his strange voice, was the drell.
"Ugh!" he would cry, flipping over and over, kicking at the air. "You like that? Huh? You want some more?!" Perhaps via the element of surprise alone, he survived. Biotic fists, glowing grenades and shotgun bullets flew all around him and sometimes actually cleared a good path for the other three.
"I got a shotgun!" he would often tell the Cerberus soldiers. "SHOTGUN, yeeeeahhhh!"
At the end of the fith bout of gunfire, Saria leaned into her cover and mused. His success notwithstanding, this man was just not what Saria would have ever expected of his people.
Perhaps she was simply racially prejudiced, simply ignorant after so long on Thessia. Perhaps the stereotypes were nonsense. Those images of quiet, deep-throated, tortured martyrs, groaning their strange religious oaths before vanishing into the shadows. So mysterious and unworldly. So selfless and insular. So deep, like the oceans of Kahje...
The drell jumped in front of Saria and began kicking her in the face, spinning around and around with his extremely acroboatic if poorly aimed assault, grunting and yelling constantly.
"Yeah, I'm doing karate on you, asari!" he explained, unecessarily. "Karate moves! See what you got!" Saria looked at him and tried to speak.
The moment the battle returned, however, so did the drell's sense of purpose. He was off like a high-kicking, spinning shot, whirling into the enemy, panting, smashing, charging his barriers and very frequently narrating. "I took your shield!" he would say, having removed a centurion's shield. "You want to see what I got? Huh! I'm karate and... half karate... half awesome!"
Eventually, as it always did, the fight became too much. Cerberus' quick Phantom-class soldiers were on the field, snipers were everywhere and invisible. As the N7 unit pulled back to a walled-off ruin, they heard something in the distance.
"Awwww, there it is!" said the drell, helpfully.
The first missile drew their eyes before the arm that fired it, but they all knew immedately that Cerberus had unleashed an Atlas mech. Silently, the man, asari and geth steeled themselves, tightened their knuckles around triggers and empied their heads of thought. The man and geth, better at long-range combat, rolled out of the empty brown windows and drew the mech's attention.
The desperate move failed quickly when the geth was blown apart and 'bled out' during the retreat.
The three remaining suad-members reloaded for want of something to do and made a show of picking off the two cerberus operatives close enough to take down.
"God damn..." the drell began again, and Saria turned to him, wide-eyed.
"I feel bad for our team-mate, guys," he said, and Saria wanted to agree.
"Pray to him," said the drell. "Aw, pray to him, people."
Saria tried to speak.
"Wait. Why the hell am I praying to a robot? Robots don't have God. I'm praying to a robot!"
The pounding of the Atlas' feet against Tuchanka's battered, uncomplaining surface grew louder. The ground shook more and more. The dust flew up at their chests.
"Stoopid fat... Atlas!" He stopped, looked up. 'Fatlas! Time to do some... shotgun and karate stuff! Ugh! Uuuuuugh! C'mon let's dance!' And he was off, spinning and kicking, rolling back and forth and screaming with punches.
When Saria and the human dared to join the fight, it was over. The Atlas exploded. The geth staggered to its feet. The Kodiak slammed down through orbit to the ground, calling for them to hurry. The drell ran around in circles, firing a submachine gun into the air and shouting that he was 'kissing the sky'.
As Saria and the others climbed back into the shuttle and the roar of the engines resumed, she heard a loud click as her helmet speaker shut off. The drell, facing her again, went still and silent. The wet, soft black eyes stared again, the innocent greyish pupils at their centres narrowing.
Saria had never visited Tuchanka, but she would forget the planet quickly. Today something greater and more alien had occured. She had learned of the drell's culture, religion and power. Seen them at their best.
And more than that, truly, today she had come face-to-face with Amonkira.