Mass Effect 3: The Wanderer Chapter 1 : The Outpost, a mass effect fanfic

Tick.

He was alone, sitting in a communications outpost on the dark side of the moon.

Tick.

The outpost was dark, and no light shone within its walls except for the weak orange glow of an outmoded comm loosely held in one of his hands. He sat alone in that small place, isolated from the universe, the only living thing within the confines of the visible horizon. Within that stark darkness, with all but one of his senses null, he listened with absolute attention to the sound emanating from the speaker that he held. In his world, nothing moved.

Tick.

...

The sound had suddenly stopped and with its absence the room faded into a deafening silence. With the one constant of his world gone, he opened his eyes. Held in front of him, the dull glow of the comm glared at him through the otherwise complete darkness.

...

Tick.

The reassuring metronome returned and with it, his peace. He closed his eyes again with a sigh, removing himself of sight once more and sinking back into his numb isolation. The hypnotic, steady tick of the signal lulled him back to a blank mind.

Tick.

...

And just when his irritation began to mount during the second interruption of his solemn heartbeat, a sound far worse replaced the silence: Static. His eyes shot open this time, the sharp claws of fear sinking into his chest as the noise filled the air. His thumb fumbled for the reset button on the comm, and he pushed it.

The sound broke while the circuit momentarily reset, alleviating his anxiety… but then the full force of the white noise returned and crashed down through the speaker and into his ears. He knew then that something had gone terribly wrong, yet for all the rationality that he prided himself on he refused to believe himself. Once more he pushed the reset button - this time with extra strength, ironclad surety, and a longer duration - as if his indomitable will could somehow repair and restore whatever problem has occurred… and once more, the scream of frequencies lit up his brain.

Surely a part within their improvised communications system had malfunctioned, he thought to himself. It could have been anything: interference, solar flare, or perhaps a burnt out relay somewhere. It was to be expected as they were trying to get by with living on as little resources as possible. Anxious but holding himself at bay, he waited for the static to pass. He stared at the tiny ever-increasing number on the corner of the comm screen, counting the amount of time elapsed. If the maximum time limit was reached without the signal having been restored, he would break radio silence and contact the base.

Static.

The number grew higher and higher.

Static.

The time limit had been reached with no change in the signal. His hand now held the comm with enough force to crush. He broke the strict radio silence, sending a unencrypted long wavelength broadcast across the moon to the base. The act was a risky but necessary one; He would reach all base comm centers at the cost of announcing his position in the solar system. He gripped the comm tightly, waiting, wishing for the coded response telling him that everything was OK. Which each passing second, the heavy feeling of dread weighed down on him until he could take it no longer. The frightened voice in the back of his mind knew that his reply would never come.

He hurried up, jamming the comm down his suit, securing his helmet to his head, his weapon to his back, and burst out of the pressurized entrance of the outpost. The two other moons that orbited the same planet as the one he stood on reflected little light onto the dark side, yet stood solid in form and brilliance above him. The backdrop of stars stood silent against the night sky, whispering no secrets and telling no tales of the galaxy-wide slaughter they currently abetted. This moon and its base was their final hiding place, the last hope of his at surviving the rolling harvest of those that hunted them.

The base was located north, just over the horizon behind a natural mountain range. Normally, due to the radio and visible light silence they maintained, it was all but invisible from both land and space. Now, however, a faint red cloud glowed over the horizon, shining like a sparkling jewel… or a city on fire.

He hit the ground running, leaving behind the all-terrain rover he had arrived in. It was useful for traversing the uneven terrain, but he could easily outmatch it in speed. Panic supplied an initial burst of speed, and the fear kept his heart beating quickly. He knew exactly what he saw, as he had seen it time and time again, yet he refused to rid himself of his disbelief.

This can't be happening again.

As he ran, a steady sound filled his ears as his heart beat loudly and the sound of his thumping feet against the ground reverberated up through his legs. He sprinted with desperation, knowing that ever second wasted meant more death. The trail on the plain ended and he ripped into a small clearing at the base of the mountains. He ran, and he ran. By now the pace and the incline had induced a deep burn within his legs but the adrenaline ignored the pain. As he neared the top of the mountain, he silently hoped that what he feared hadn't come to pass. He couldn't be left alone, not again.

His helmet read five hundred meters. He vaulted to the top of the cliff and saw that he was nearing his goal when all of his senses cried out at once, their sensitivity amplified by his time spent isolated. He was surrounded by color, sound, and smell. Red embers, grey ash, great crashes, and the scream of metal saturated the air. He recognized it as death.

Fatigue steadily mounted, but his destination was right over the top, now fifty meters away. He used one last burst of energy to jump over the last gap and then stopped dead in his tracks, panting heavily and wild-eyed as he looked around him. He was...He was...

Alone. He was alone again.

The shock registered and his disbelief crashed down around him. The culprits; the monsters to whom this orchestra of destruction perpetuated from are seen departing in the far distance. Their work was complete, their will had been done, on this moon, as it had been in the heavens. Their black and red forms merged with the emptiness of space, and then they were gone. They left behind absolutely nothing except for one single thing: him.

He wailed into the sky with all his might, until his voice grew hoarse and his chest pained him. He wept until his eyes ran dry and he could no longer see. He hurled his curses to the farthest reaches of space, damming everything he knew. His rage came swiftly and he beat the ground until his hands were bloody and his muscles protested against their abuse. He grieved for a soulless colony on a forgotten planet, gasping for breath and trembling before an indifferent universe that answered no prayers; No amount of yelling would change anything, everyone was already dead and gone. His pleas stumbled out for no ear to hear but his own.

The lone and broken warrior took sad slow steps toward the safe haven that had been reduced to ash. There was nothing left. Nothing could stop them. The tears were gone, just like everyone else here.

He pushing aside a pile of rubble where he had once lived, his eyes resting on a familiar wreckage. A shelter, his shelter. There was little left aside from a few metal beams twisted beyond recognition and debris littered everywhere. There was a glint of something metallic amid the rubble and he picked it up. It was a memory capsule, the kind that held imprints, and he opened it. Inside were imprints of himself and others. This was another life that he had sworn to protect but had failed. They weren't the first ones either.

He slipped the imprints into a pouch in his suit. For the second time he had outlived everyone and now he had nothing. He closed his eyes and muttered a short prayer for those who had lost their lives and a prayer for his forgiveness, amid the scene that can only be described as hell, as fires and the souls of the departed raged around him.