The Road to Rannoch
A "Mass Effect" Fan Fiction Fragment
For this month's short story, I decided to share part of a Mass Effect fan fiction I wrote soon after finishing the series. It's follows the events of my first playthrough, detailing how Tiberius Shepard and his companions deal with the end of the Reaper War and the fallout of his decision to destroy them.
One gasp despite all air seeming to have evaporated. A slim layer of fresh oxygen slid over Tiberius' body. His ribs screamed out as he filled his lungs. A harsh, burning sensation wracked the lower left side of his abdomen; the ragged flesh and skin felt glued together with clotted blood, which threatened to come apart as he breathed.
Tiberius' head throbbed, worse than when his implants acted up. Hot red memories flashed in his mind; anger against the stubborn, ancient mistake that threatened his people, his friends, his future. The one which forced his hand to choose the path of the destructor. The thoughts gnawed at his mind and heart as consciousness returned to him. Darkness engulfed his sight. Chill air made his skin feel tight and his bones quake. Sharp edges jabbed into his back and limbs like a bed of nails. Surprisingly, it combatted the worse pain in his skull. However, he felt pinned in place, locked by impossible weight from a haphazard cage of metal and glass.
A low drone exacerbated his migraine, rising out of nowhere with his sudden awakening. As it grew, the weight locking him in seemed to alleviate. Tiberius felt whatever structure welded to his flesh, broken bones, and blood move.
His shallow gasps turned to long sighs. Has someone found me? he wondered. I was on the Citadel, no doubt they'd be searching the wreckage. Or is it just gravity doing its job, pulling me down to burn me to cinders again?
The latter thought seemed more likely given the Catalyst's implications that wherever he had made the fateful choice was not known to anyone alive and organic at least. However, the load weighing him down grew lighter. His body ached too much to move beyond breathing. Something pulled him and the wreckage in a direction he could not discern; the darkness and disorientation kept him from knowing which way was up.
One thing is for certain, he thought. I am alive; I breathe, I feel pain. And I need…What do I need?
There was something tucked away in the mess of immediate things his body and mind begged for. Medical attention, a good night's sleep, something solid to eat and something cold to drink. He needed to debrief Hackett, the Alliance, whatever remained of the Galaxy's leadership. Deeper than those, there was something else that allowed him to cling to consciousness, something unimportant in the wake of the war but imperative to him alone.
I must go somewhere, he recalled. A sea of places washed before him, seeming to carry his mind on ethereal tides whilst his body grew lighter, unburdened despite the blockage of debris. All were places ravaged by the war, where could he possibly go once the formalities were dealt with?
A sudden thud rocked Tiberius' prison of ruins. His wounds exploded with skin-deep flames. The wreckage screeched and groaned at the impact. It shattered Tiberius' recollection. The wreckage continued to jostle and creak loosening Tiberius somewhat from its hold.
The darkness over him faded. A dirty orange light stung his eyes, spearing into his brain. It intensified, yet within the pain a drop of clarity came to Tiberius' mind—he remembered where he needed to go.
It became easier to breathe as more air flowed around him. His ribs still protested but his lungs ached for more breath. Coughs forced their way out of his throat. He flexed his fingers and toes; he shifted his legs and arms despite the numerous fractures that no doubt riddled their bones. Heat trickled into his flesh. A stiff, uncomfortable warmth. With it came the acrid smell of spent fuel and the grimy, sickly stench of aging metal. The drone increased to a rapid ker-chunk of a ship engine.
The light above Tiberius coalesced into a single globe casting its rays over him. It hurt to look upon but it reminded him of where he needed to go. Against the pain in his body, Tiberius wrenched himself from the wreckage. He stood, shaking and stumbling down the mound that was once a fragment of the galaxy's capitol.
“I need…” he spat out, his voice was thick, trickling out of his lips like the clotted blood caking his body. He tripped and slid down the heap. Spikes, edges, and angles shredded his palms, knees, and shins.
“I need to get to…” he blurted as he careened into a metal floor. It boomed under his shattered armor and bones. Tiberius rolled onto his back, breathless and beat. He gazed into the lightsource above the junk. The dirty orange changing in his mind's eye to the deep smolder of an ancient star above a dusty yet beautiful world.
“Rannoch.” The name escaped his lips with a sigh. His eyelids weighed heavy and slid to meet each other. Before they did, a silhouette loomed over him, blotting out the light.
***
“Silvanus you are cleared for landing,” the permission was bittersweet music to Garrus' ears. He stood quiet by the airlock as his pilot brought the vessel out of orbit and into Rannoch's atmosphere. Even the slightest jostle sullied the experience of the descent for Garrus. After years of being on the best ship, helmed by the best pilot in the galaxy, his body and mind had high standards for space travel. However, he kept the little grievances to himself, thinking it unbecoming of a captain.
Letting out a long, heavy sigh as the Silvanus landed, Garrus stepped towards the airlock. The whir of the engine died down and the landing gear pneumatics hissed as they bore the weight of the vessel. He waved his hand in front of the central hologram of the airlock door as it turned green. It whooshed open to a sunny, cloudless sky tinged orange from the light of the system's mother star. A cool wind laden with dust swept by. Garrus looked down as automated steps descended from the edge of the exit. Three quarians wearing hooded suits with elegant, prim designs and embroiderings approached flanked by half a dozen of their marines who stopped and split themselves into two rows on either side of the steps. They faced each other and saluted.
Garrus smiled and descended. Halfway down, he called out, “At ease, marines!”
The soldiers lowered their hands but stood stock still as Garrus met the three quarians they escorted. For a moment, Garrus' mind could did not agree with what he was seeing. Rather than the blue or purple tinted masks beneath the hoods, he looked upon three pale, human-like faces. A pair of lines arced over their brows, extending to their dark hair. They regarded him with welcoming smiles and white, faintly luminescent eyes.
“Welcome to Rannoch, Captain Vakkarian,” said Admiral Raan in her deep, husky voice.
“It's an honor to be here.” Garrus extended a hand and shook each of the admirals' in turn. “Truly. I presume the aclimation is going well in spite of the deactivation of the geth?”
“We managed to salvage their codes and mimicked their programs,” explained Admiral Xen with a cold smile. “Tragic that they were lost but their sacrifice will not be in vain.”
Sure, Garrus thought sarcastically, reading Xen's feigned honor. “Then the reclamation should be going smoothly.”
The admirals turned and walked with Garrus towards a huge, decomissioned liveship several hundred meters away from the Silvanus.
“It would be better if we didn't lose the workforce that could build 'round the clock,” said Han'Gerrel.
“Yes,” Garrus said. “Quite inconvenient to use your own hands to build a home.”
Han'Gerrel glowered at Garrus. However, the turian furrowed his brow right back. The admiral faced the liveship and did not look back once more.
The trio brought Garrus into the ship-turned-resource center. Other unmasked quarians passed them by, saluting the admirals as they carried equipment, crop samples, and machinery through the huge, silent corridors. Garrus recalled the heavy, churning thrum of the quarian ship he accompanied Tiberius and Tali on whilst they vouched for her innocence. Though Rannoch's sun said otherwise, the ship felt cold to Garrus. Haunted by a way of life dying—or rather changing—right before his eyes.
“By far we've had the most success with implementing agricultural and farming centers around Rannoch,” said Raan. “Some of the geth data we salvaged recorded our ancestors' farming techniques and animal husbandry as well. It's so unfamiliar to us right now but after the war it's a breath of fresh air.”
“Sounds quite bucolic,” said Garrus. Damn it, Tiberius, you would've loved it here, then.
“The scenery is nicer at the least,” said Han'Gerrel. “But far from the old poetry of the ancestors' ‘glory days’ ere the reliance and uprising of the geth. Still, I wouldn't trade my homestead for another day in those cramped quarters.”
“It's sometimes overwhelming to look and see so much space, however,” said Raan. “Though, Captain Vakarian, I doubt you're here just to talk farming and homesteading.”
“It's part of the memo,” Garrus said. “Palaven is interested in opening trade routes once Rannoch is ready and faster travel methods are available. However, I also have an update from the Citadel salvage teams.”
Raan paused while the two other admirals continued forward for a few more steps. However, they stopped and faced their colleague after a few moments.
“Of course,” Raan said. “She's overseeing the machinists. I'll bring you to her.”
Raan led Garrus through more silent, echoing corridors. They wound labyrinthine down several levels until the mechanical guts of the ship showed through stripped walls and beams. More clamor filled the air as engineers, machinists, and scrappers took each and every piece of tech and almost lovingly sorted them, carrying them back through the silent corridors.
Raan and Garrus stopped before a dormant drive core covered in scaffolding. The Admiral looked up and called out, “Tali'Zorah!”
On one of the lower platforms, a short, shapely quarian in purple and gold garb turned off her omni-tool and faced Raan. Her white eyes glowed behind the purple-tinted plastoid mask. They seemed to smile as they looked upon Garrus. The turian waved and grinned as Tali leapt across the platform towards a ladder. She scrambled down, not losing her foot in the rungs and rushed to meet her friend once her two-toed feet slapped the floor.
“Garrus!” Tali's voice buzzed high and happy. She embraced him and bounced in place while he wrapped his arms around her, chuckling.
“Ah, it's been too long,” Garrus said. “Even still, can always count on finding you in engineering.”
Tali pulled away, her eyes still smiling. “Have you come to calibrate the reclamation process?”
“Sort of.” Garrus grinned, but his smile faded as he spoke the next words: “I have some news.”
Tali's eyes also grew more somber. She looked to Raan who nodded and stepped away. Garrus beckoned Tali to an empty corridor and set his hands on her shoulders.
“I didn't want to come out here empty-handed,” he said. “I really didn't…”
Tali looked down. “I expected as much. It's been, eating me up inside ever since—”
“I hate this news as much as you do, so I'm not going to mince words,” Garrus interrupted. “The salvage teams haven't found anything. Scrappers have been picking at it and if they had found something then either the C-Sec ships who caught them would've dredged it up or those that got away would've answered Liara's bounty.”
“They have to keep looking!” Tali shrugged out of Garrus' grasp and started pacing in front of him. “If they just get the salvage teams to follow a recreation of the Citadel's explosion then maybe they'll find a piece that went out farther than—”
Garrus caught her by the shoulders again, stopping her. “Tali, they've tried that. They tried everything. Every physicist, demolitions expert, and even terrorist has been consulted on this and they've got nothing.”
“They have to keep looking!”
“It's been eight months!”
Garrus and Tali stared at each other in silence. The quarian's gaze fell and the turian let his hands fall off her shoulders and to his sides.
“I said I didn't want to come here empty-handed,” Garrus said, reaching into his pocket. “So I didn't.”
He withdrew a clenched fist and reached towards Tali. She cupped her hands beneath his and he opened his grip. A pair of dogtags jingled softly as they fell into Tali's hands. They were tarnished, their edges chewed up. On one side of each of them was N7 in raised lettering with a worn red stripe underling them. Tali ran a finger over the words on the other side of them: “Cmd. Tiberius W. Shepard.”
“Oh.” Tali clutched the dog tags close to her breast. “Thank you, Garrus.”
“Of course.” Garrus nodded and leaned back against the wall as Tali stood in silence, her head bowed.
“I, ah, had to pull Hackett's arm a bit to get those,” he said. “You know, they're talking about turning the Normandy into a museum. Gonna make Shepard's cabin into a whole exhibit.”
“What?” Tali looked up. Her eyes narrowed. “She's a perfectly good ship! Too good just to sit around and be gawked at by tourists.”
“That's what I said!” Garrus threw up his hands. “It's this weird thing humans do with war equipment. Once they get the next best thing the old stuff just gets decommissioned and the civilians get to admire it from a distance.”
“She ought to be out making war relief runs at least.”
“They're going to replicate her for more frigates, but you and I both know she's one of a kind.”
“Yeah.” Tali's gaze fell to the ground as she leaned against the wall. “I'm sure Joker must've been pissed to hear that. Have you heard from him lately?”
Garrus shook his head. “He was really broken up about EDI so I thought it best to give him some space. And with comms being a wreck now it's not as easy. I didn't get a chance to ask about him when I met with Hackett. Ash and Vega say, ‘Hi,’ though. They probably had a little more to say, but the trip was…long. Just know they're thinking of you.”
“Thank you.” Tali slid the chain of the dogtags over her head. “Even just this one small thing…it's funny, I really wanted to take these with me before I left, but I thought Tye would notice when…if…if he came back.”
“He would've wanted you to have them, believe me. Hell, he'd have made me wrench out the whole damn cabin for you.”
Tali laughed, her eyes smiled again. “He would have, wouldn't he? I think he talked about taking and using it as the master bedroom for the house if the Normandy ever got decomissioned for good.”
“How's that project going, by the way?” Garrus folded his arms in front of his chest.
“It's slow to say the least.” Tali's smiled faded. “Even if the geth were still active, I'd do it by myself.”
“You're just as stubborn as ever.” Garrus chuckled. “Building a house by yourself. Not taking off your mask. I don't suppose you've given up ‘vas Normandy’ either?”
“Not on your life,” Tali said. “Rannoch is being reclaimed but the Normandy is my home, my family. And as for the mask…” Tali ran her fingers over the surface, staring at nothing in particular. “There's only one man allowed to see what's beneath it.”
Garrus nodded, casting his gaze downward. He refrained from urging Tali to move on any further. She's made her choice, he thought. She'll change when she's ready. Best you can do is be there for her.
“You know, while I'm here, I'd be happy to help out with the house-building if you need a hand.”
“Thank you,” said Tali. “I have a good handle on it. I'd hate to make you do any work outside of the trade logistics, but I can at least show you. There's a roof, finally.”
“Of course!” Garrus leaned away from the wall. “Once business is settled here for the day we can head out there.”
Tali laughed again. “Better to head out in the morning. We'd be driving all night.”
“Right,” Garrus said. “Are you setting it up where you first touched down or where Tiberius brought the fist of the spirits down on the Reaper?”
“The second place had a very convenient scrap pile.”
Garrus chuckled. “Never one to waste a thing, quarians. Though, building a house out of the bones of your enemy sounds more like a krogan thing.”
Tali shrugged. “I guess that's what I get for spending time with Wrex.”
***
Eight Months Earlier…
A liquidy chill rippled through Tiberius' body. His veins felt like tubes of ice. His head felt heavy but numb; the migraines finally stopped. His vision faired little better as he broke his eyelids apart from a mortar of dried sand. He stared up again into the grungy orange light. However, instead of laying on hard metal, a somewhat soft surface cushioned his back. Though a hard bar ran horizontally under the small of his back.
The noisy engine sounds thundered around him. A pungent smell like old meat, wet dog, and grease wormed its way into Tiberius' nostrils.
Tiberius groaned as aches surged through his limbs. It was favorable compared to his prison of Citadel ruins, but the restlessness to get to Rannoch forced him to try and rise. He exhaled and tensed his spine and chest. Slowly, he rose, moving onto his elbows.
Tearing his eyes away from the light, Tiberius blinked as they adjusted to examine the room he was in. Through the bleary haze, he gathered he was in the cramped corridor of a ship. Piles of junk lay about the floor. Stains, scratches, and bullet holes marred the walls.
Sitting up almost took all the breath out of his lungs. The way his head felt did not help as he struggled to keep it upright. Naseau welled in his guts as his vision tottered and the stink permeating the ship intensified.
Footsteps accompanied by a scratching sound came from the corridor at his feet. A shrill yelp followed them, splitting his skull. A dim form ran towards Tiberius. Coming into the light was a vorcha.
“No! No!” It shouted. “Rest! Rest, Mister Commander.” It snorted and snarled as it came beside Tiberius and set its grubby, clawed hands on his chest. It pushed rather than lowered him back down; he winced as his cybernetically-modified spine clashed with the bar. He grunted through his teeth.
“Commander needs rest,” the vorcha said. “Ikthim give medi-gel, he make sure it still fresh. But Commander must rest for it to work.”
“Ikthim,” Tiberius drawled. “Please, get me to…a station…somewhere I can get a ship to Rannoch.”
“Rannoch!” Ikthim shouted, again irritating Tiberius' head. “Rannoch! Yes! Commander said he wanted to go there when Ikthim pull him from scraps.”
“Can you do that?” Tiberius asked. “Please, I can get you money, fuel, anything.”
“Commander can get me anything.” Ikthim leaned close to Tiberius' face. He cringes as the vorcha's rank breath wafted over his nose. “Shadow Broker has put big bounty on you.”
Shadow Broker? Tiberius thought. Liara! Yes! If I can get this sap to bring me to her, she can get me transport to Rannoch.
“Oh no!” Tiberius mustered as much of a feigned plea as he could. “Not the Shadow Broker! Please, anyone but the Shadow Broker! I can't believe he still wants my head after last time. You can't even imagine what he'll do to me once you hand me over.”
Ikthim snickered. “Commander doesn't need to worry, Ikthim no take you to Shadow Broker…”
Shit, Tiberius thought, realizing he was at the mercy of a crusty vorcha in a junker, probably in some black space between clusters.
“Vido-Blue Suns play even more for Commander's head!” Ikthim's toothy maw widened.
Tiberius winced as he tried to sit up. “Vido? But the Blue Suns work for Aria T'Lok. If she caught wind that one of her underbosses had me, she'd—”
“That's why Vido-Blue Suns tell her nothing! Ikthim tell her nothing!”
Tiberius clenched his teeth. He balled up a fist. This is going to hurt, he thought as he sought to channel his Biotics. Probably a migraine for days, vomiting, but I can live with that. Just get this bastard...
However, the thrum of his amp did not pulse through his head. His fist did not tingle. No purple ether wreathed itself around him.
“My Biotics,” he said aloud. “I can't—”
“Ikthim take care of that.” The vorcha held up an empty syringe with a long, large needle similar to the kind used for extracting bone marrow. “Vido-Blue Suns want Commander weak. Ikthim squeezed a chip in your head; stops pesky Biotics.”
“Bastard!” Tiberius snarled and with a burst of anger, lunged for Ikthim. His body screamed out in protest as he grabbed hold of his captor's throat. However, before he could do any real damage, something hard and heavy crashed against the side of his head. He slumped back into the cot; Ikthim waved a heavy hand cannon in Tiberius' face.
“Rest! Rest!” he shrieked. “Ikthim is one with gun! Commander no good to Ikthim dead! No make Ikthim use it!”
He pressed the barrel into Tiberius' temple but despite his insistence on keeping the Commander alive, slid his gnarled finger over the trigger. With his free hand, Ikthim lashed Tiberius' arms and legs to the cot. In the wake of the excitement, weariness washed over his body. He let out long sighs as Ikthim secured the restraints thrice over. At last, the vorcha lowered his gun.
“Commander no move,” Ikthim said. “Ikthim feed you and watch you. Ikthim watch you the whole way to Vido-Blue Suns.”
Letting out a defeated breath, Tiberius asked, “Where are we going?”
“No matter to Commander. It last stop for you. With Mass Relays gone boom-boom, it gonna be long time to reach Vido-Blue Suns.”
“The Mass Relays?” Tiberius asked. “They're destroyed?”
“Yes, went boom with Reapers! Ship-travel slow. Communication slow. Everything slow now, everyone scrambling. No one see Commander Shepard gone.”
Ikthim stepped away from the cot and ambled down the corridor back the way he came.
Dread and sadness welled in the pit of Tiberius' heart. The feelings gnawed at his guts. What have I done? he thought.
***
Eight Months Later…
Garrus and Tali rose a little after dawn. They climbed into a decomissioned, de-armed Mako and made the long drive to Tali's house in progress. On the drive they laughed and reminisced of Tiberius' haphazard driving during their mission to defeat Saren.
“Even then I loved him to death,” said Tali. “But whenever he had me come down with him in the Mako I always thought, ‘Keelah, better say my prayers now.’”
“I'm just impressed you kept a steady hand in the gunner's seat while he was sending that thing through the air.”
“I did use the cannon give us that little boost on Ilos to get us to the Mass Relay.”
“Wasn't that the move also achieved by using the force of an exploding geth armature situated beneath the Mako?”
“Again, Tye's idea. Keelah, you'd think he thought he was in one of his action vids.”
“I can't watch any of those anymore, none come close to having even a little bit of the same tension.” Garrus reclined in his seat and laughed. “I heard some rumors some Earth-studio is making a whole series based on our little adventures.”
Tali scoffed. “They'd better pay us some royalties. What else has that studio made?”
Garrus shrugged. “I think they made a bunch of superhero vids a hundred or so years ago. Trying to stay relevant, I suppose.”
“I'm not sure why anyone would want to relive that,” Tali said. “Much less capitalize off of it.”
“The galaxy's trying to move on already."“Garrus sighed. “The war lasted a lot shorter than it felt in the moment; seems like a thousand years ago that Earth fell.”
“Everything feels slow now,” Tali's voice softened. “Everyone's planning for what comes next. We have leaders and goals, but it doesn't feel like we have action. Not the same kind of action with Tye; even for the smallest missions he wouldn't waste any time getting them done.”
“Yeah, that's what I miss. Never a dull moment in our band of bastards.”
“Not a one.”
They rode in silence the rest of the way. A little while into the afternoon, they reached Tali's house. The dark metallic shelter sat in the middle of a cliff, the cliff where Tiberius Shepard both brought down a Reaper and brokered peace between the quarians and geth.
“Here we are,” Tali said, stepping out of the Mako. “Almost a home sweet home.”
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That was some darn good sci-Fi!