Mass Affected (PG-16 (Caused PG-17 isn't good enough))

[Frybread002]

For the past month or so, I have been posting short stories for each week and I decided to do a Mass Effect title. And because I am having trouble writing this fan-fic, I really need help to have this posted within this following week. With script issues and story structure still giving me trouble, I just want people to help me out on this. So Imma just gonna post the complete, un-edited draft of what I have so far. I fized most of the grammer errors, but don't be expect something epic (yet). I still have another couple of days of writting before this is finished.

 

[spoiler=Mass Affected]

I always get the shakes before a drop.

 

 

“It‘s just nerves“ people would tell me, and they’re right. Facing the fact that I will die; I’ve been impaled through the heart, had a kneecap and arm blown off after I fell off of a cliff, and half of my face was incinerated when a stray bullet ignited a flammable material that was on my helmet - people didn‘t have to blame me for being nervous, my shakes were just chronic now. I‘ve been mortally wounded three different times, marched on numerous missions where I usually became the only survivor and witnessed my entire home destroyed. It was only a matter time before the estimated calculations were right and I commit suicide. So I had the injections, hypnotic prep, and brainwaves scanned by the Alliance shrinks to determine that I was mentally sound. Hell, after everything I have been through, the Alliance only cares about its troopers being able to fight, that I’m just surprised they even worry about my mental health.

 

Everything checked out though. Docs say that I’m sound of mind and after some surgery, my new limbs didn‘t show signs of rejection. The horrible scars from the skin graph and new eye implants on my face almost hid the burn marks. My punctured heart was replaced with an artificial version . So I didn’t had to worry about anything. That must’ve frighten them, because they had to conclude that it wasn’t fear that gave me the shakes. Heh, I could’ve told them that.

 

A captured wolf doesn‘t pace himself in his own cage because he’s afraid. He’s just waiting to be set free.

 

On a shuttle inbound to London, there was a bench that allowed me to sit and face the rest of my squad. As their commander, I had to sit there and think if I could really send them to their deaths. None of them volunteered for this assignment and with everyone else below the rank of Corporal, the officers and I realized this mission meant that we were going to die. None of us could tell them that. It was best that they didn‘t know the truth of our mission. But after what I been through though, death didn’t seem that bad after losing an arm and leg on multiple occasions. These soldiers though, they were different. They never had to fight for something important before. Like they were here just to get paid.

 

I don’t doubt their skills or experience, but none of them were from Earth; Colony kids and spacers, this was their first time being home and they were more alien than the Reapers. I was lucky enough to have some vets from the Skyllian Blitz, the Geth attack on Eden Prime and the Battle of the Citadel from two years ago. But even then, those vets were from some colony out in space. I’m sure I could relate to some of them however, since I never left Earth myself until the Reapers attacked.

 

I joined the Alliance Marines when I was 18 and been stationed on Earth ever since. As an Alliance soldier, staying planet side pretty much negates the purpose of serving in the Alliance, that after the Skyllian Blitz, Earth and her nation states were convinced to create a reserve number of troops to defend Earth if she was under attack or if the Alliance needed reinforcements in the event of a galactic war.

 

Just thinking about leaving Earth made me sick to my stomach; slaver attacks, pirate attacks, military attacks, you name it and it could probably attack you. So there was no way I wanted live a life like that - just waiting to be attacked. I was too much of an coward for that. So I stayed home and enlisted in the reserves, which gave me the time to study and focus on my degree in archaeology. Unlike the local militia and armies of the other nation states, the reserves were strictly tied to the Alliance, that if a war broke on Earth, we were ordered to stay out of the conflict.

 

I really loved exploring and reading about the past, that for every discovery on another planet, I’d had a book to compare it too back on Earth. But honestly, I was just a nerd who loved to read and was too afraid to even talk to a girl. So there was no way space life suited me…but I did need the money to pay for college because my family didn’t have it. Boot camp was horrible and made me want to quit on different occasions, but man was it worth it when I looked at the budget they had to finance gifted soldiers in the field of mathematics and history.

 

But that’s beside the point, I hardly know anyone on my team and the only thing that haunted me, was after this war is over, I’m going to have to face their families and say something about their deaths, as if I know them.

I don’t even know any of them except for my sergeant, Farley. I think I can recognize a few of their faces, but the same armor and cameo fatigues makes it hard. Some of the soldiers having boobs helps a little bit though. The only one that does standout, is the N7 officer at the far side of the shuttle. I glanced over the dossier for the officer and it said that a transfer request was made to be assigned to my unit. I heard the stories when I was stationed in California, that those N7 operatives were the Alliance’s special ops.

 

“Don’t worry LowDog, there’s enough armor on the Kodiak to reach our destination.” I heard one of my sergeants tell me. His voice slightly muffled through the protection of my helmet.

 

“Thanks Farley.” I responded cold and detached. He wasn’t offended though, Farley has been on enough missions with me to know that I get like this.

 

It was clear that Farley knew I was anxious though. Whenever I think too hard or get excited, I tend to stare off into space, looking at nothing in particular. I think the term was coined in a 20^th century war, when veteran soldiers seen enough combat, they would have a tired look about them and stare at something as if it’s far away. Unresponsive to their surrounds, those soldiers were lost in their own world. The Thousand Yard Stare I think it was called. Everyone on my squad has it.

 

“What’s the ETA Farley?” I asked, looking up to meet his eyes. He too had the Thousand Yard Stare. Even through his helmet, I could tell he had them.

 

“15 minutes.” Farley responded, after talking to the pilot through his omni tool. Everybody was standing except for me. I just was sitting. “That must be a long wait LowDog.”

 

“Ha, you have no idea.” I replied, with a mixture of enthusiasm and nervousness in my voice.

I took off my helmet and look at my reflection in the visor. I wanted time to reflect before I had to drop.

 

The scars from my skin-graph was far from healed. Anyone could easily see the bright red lights from the implants, that my skin didn’t mesh yet. The implants I had done in my eye was also horrible. The red scar practically disfigured my face.

 

I forgot how long ago it was, but after Commander Shepard united the Geth and Qaurian species, I received Geth reinforcements on a Turian colony I was liberating from the Reaper forces, when a Geth Pyro had its flammable material splashed on my helmet after it’s fuel tank ruptured. The Geth quickly died in the resulting explosion. Personally, I thought I was going to be fine as I was behind cover, so I didn’t notice the fuel splashing on my face. It

 

“Alright everybody, listen up.” I said, slowly getting up from my seat. “We all know the stakes and we all know what we sacrificed to come here.”

 

Looking at everyone in our shuttle, there was about 10 people on this small craft. I still had three other crafts filled with 10 people under my command. So when I spoke to the group in my shuttle, I made to sure to com-link with the other three.

 

“It’s months since the Reapers attacked Earth.” I began. “With our only hope of saving Earth leaving to get from the other races, we had to fight, claw and bite our way to survive this long. But that was just it, to survive. Today, we finally get our chance to fight back!”

“Oh-raah!” My men shouted. Even through the com-link I heard the other three give me a strong oh-raah.

 

With ample time on till our destination, I couldn’t help but think about the events leading up to my mission.

 

my squad and I took the risk and pushed our shuttle to its limit and stuff as many people we could get into the craft. Hell, even our pilot was going to abandoned the shuttle and join the combat.

  

For the first time in my career, I was given a platoon underneath my command and to the dismay of my superiors, I wanted as many people as I could get. My plan of attack is indeed reckless, but they couldn’t ignore the probability of our success; Commander Shepard was coming back and bringing the support of the other alien races. And Shepard needed a landing zone; allying the Krogans and Turians, ending the Geth/Quarian War and killing two Reaper’s, there is no doubt that the Reapers will throw everything they have to stop Commander Shepard’s arrival.

 

One of my men compared it to moving a mountain. I hated his answer, but he was right.

“Then we just have to move around the mountain.” was my response.

 

Arguing like a spoiled child, I had to convince battalion commanders to launch a conventional, frontal assault to lure the Reapers away from London and create an opening for Shepard to sneak in and rendezvous with Admiral Anderson to retake the Citadel. With much of the information being classified due to the risk Indoctrination amongst out superiors, my former Commanding Officer was telling me that Shepard acquired the means to destroy the Reapers. I would have loved to learn more, but very few officers had an inkling of what the Commander was doing, and a select only had the official intelligence. So the information I had the time to argue my plan, was nothing more than a terrible way to get many people killed. But with the hope that the Commander gave us through the actions of uniting the Krogan, Turian, Geth and Quarians, we were willing to do anything for Shepard.

 

It’s not a Kodiak or Mako, that’s for sure. Well at least as far as I know. I’m not really an aircraft kind of guy, but the bird we’re flying in, has to land soon. Our aircraft is taking fire and hearing the shots bounce off the armor is making me wonder when they’ll penetrate.

 

While the rest of the guys on the shuttle have mixed feelings about leaving their original posts to support the advance on London, only those in the European theater of war are being directly flown to London. Everyone else, was flying out of the nearby forward operating base (FOB) just outside of London. As a small town guy myself, the FOB was nothing more than a little village in the English countryside. It reminded me of home.

 

Looking at myself in the reflection of my visor, my helmet still had its burn scar during my time in the United States of the Americas when I was stationed in the Vancouver Province. My face wasn’t disfigured, but the scar it left behind was harsh; covering half my face, the left side had to be removed completely when the burns killed the cells. So I had a skin graph done.

 

 

 

So as of now, I am very sorry you guys have to read such a sloppy draft. *Bows!* But I really need to get this done this week so I can work on my next title for next week.