A/N: I've been listening to a lot of Metallica lately. This is another FemShepxGarrus story in an alternate reality. I'm still working on my first, but I needed to get this out of my head, it's cluttering the other chapters I got going on.

It's completely unrelated to the events of ME & ME2. Just the characters and places are used. Thanks for BioWare completely overloading my mind with literary ammunition!

1438 Zulu 04.12.2183

A sandstorm was brewing off in the distance, the wall of sand swirled and loomed high into the air. Nevara could see it coming from the bluff she was standing on. Helyme was warmer than what she deemed acceptable. There was little to no shade for miles. Her helmet was cracked from a previous firefight with batarian drug runners. It seemed like an odd time to be doing anything like that in recent months. The place was a warzone.

Her team had been sent to maintain watch for any movement from turians and to report in if they saw anything. The First Contact War had been done and over with for years now, but in recent months relations between humans and turians had fallen apart do the attempted assassination of one of the Primarchs by an unknown human assailant.

She had wondered why they had sent her there in the first place. The latest recon reports hadn't said anything about turian fleets or scouts in the area. She just followed her orders from the brass at Arcturus like the good little soldier she was.

Nevara was alone now. Her squad was dead. There wasn't much else she could do about it. She turned around to see how far she'd walked since the morning before. Everything looked the same, sand and more sand. Even during the nights the temperatures from the day seemed to radiate off the ground.

Nice work dumbass. This doesn't happen to officers.

She took her helmet off and threw it. It rolled down the hill and slid to a stop. Now is not the time for melodramatics. She had to keep her wits about her for the sake of survival at the very least. Her armor was growing heavier with each passing second. She grabbed her canteen from her pack and took a sip of water. She metered it to make it last. Every drop was like liquid gold in this hellish wasteland. She licked her lips and continued to follow the path that her helmet went. She picked it up and put it back on.

Mirage after mirage passed over her eyes. Minutes felt like days and the dust storm was gaining ground. She knew she was going to have to find a place to stay for the night. She didn't want to get lost anymore than she already was, if it was possible to be anymore lost than that. The land had grown flat and her feet sank deeper into the sand.

This is complete and utter bullshit. No trees, cacti, nothing, hell, I haven't even seen a rock yet.

Shepard made it to the next hill and looked around. Another hour or so, and the storm of dirt and sand would be on top of her. There was no more time for dicking around walking aimlessly. She scanned to the west and saw what looked like a mesa off in the distance. It could be a mirage, but hope was all she had. She was a survivor. She survived most anything that was thrown at her from the time she was a child. This should be nothing more than a walk in the park compared to her past.

She looked to the east to see if there was anything there. Nothing, but rolling hills that went well into the horizon.

"Well, I might as well attempt it. What have I got to lose?" She questioned herself adjusting her armor and pack to turn towards the potential safe haven.

What have I got to lose? What the fuck kind of question is that? I could die.

Nevara shook the thought off and continued on her walk. She was at a fast clip trying to outrun the impending wind. It had picked up speed and the sand was starting to tick at her faceplate. In another half hour or so and she would be in the full brunt of it. It was a thought that filled her with dread, having heard of stories of Helyme's destructively long storms.

She continued at almost a full sprint when the ground began to tremble under her feet. It was a familiar shake from the earth. She had felt it before when she was younger on a separate mission. Another unit that had been killed under her command, it wasn't her fault though, the information was faulty and lacking at best, but they were dead none the less. She skidded to a stop, but it was too late. The rumbling from underneath became a growl about 30 yards away.

Shit! Run, woman, run!

Her legs wouldn't move. She was frozen as the thresher maw broke the ground. It turned towards her, tentacles and jaws open ready for attack. Its armor shined brightly in the afternoon sun.

Go! Go, go, go, go, go! Go fucking damn it!

She snapped back to reality and sprinted. She wasn't going to let the bastard eat her. I'd rather get lost in the sandstorm. She continued her dash across the nest faster than what her little legs could do. She was built for endurance, but exhaustion and dehydration had a dampening effect on her reflexes. She had almost made it to the edge of the thresher's domain, when a rock had tripped her up and she flew the rest of the way out. Are you fucking serious? I finally see a rock and it screws me over. She jumped to her feet and continued to run. She was so close to the walls of the mesa that she could see medium to large boulders lying around.

Finally!

She turned around to see if her predator was after her. In the blink of an eye it had reeled back and let loose a gob of acidic spit that splashed the ground near her. It sizzled in the dirt and splashed the greave on her right leg. It bubbled and ate its way through the armor in seconds and was working on devouring the second layer in short order. She didn't have time to remove it she'd take care of it when she was out of the immediate danger she was in. Another acid splash hit the ground behind her, spraying her backpack and eating it away faster than her armor.

Thermal clips, food, water, everything that she had started falling out all over the ground. She wasn't about to stop and pick them up; she had to keep going for the sake of going. She ran as far she could before the pain from the acid had finally hit her. She ran behind a boulder and slammed into the ground. She took her knife out of her belt and cut the straps on her greave and her second barrier in quick fashion. She looked at her shin red and raw from the digestive acids working its magic at eating her alive. Blood was oozing from the wound.

Well that's bloody great! You're still going to be eaten even slower than if you'd just jumped into the damn things mouth. If this doesn't kill you, the infection, or starvation and dehydration will.

The ground shook once again and then there was complete and utter silence. Only the wind making its cry through the desert could be heard. She relaxed again keeping her senses sharp. How she hated it, the pain was intensified. It reverberated through her in shockwaves that were uncontrollable. She took her helmet off and vomited on the ground beside her. It was the last thing she needed to be doing. She heaved and gagged. Her muscles shook violently with each wretched purge. Tears were streaming down her face and she choked between jolts.

When there was nothing left to empty but bile she sat up and removed her gloves from her hand to wipe her mouth. The aftertaste was utterly nasty and lingered every time she swallowed. She removed her pack and pulled out an emergency pack of medi-gel, gauze and antiseptic. She wasn't going to make it into hiding in time if she was going to nurse her wounds right now, but the alternative to letting dirt and debris get into the wound seemed even worse.

The winds were almost at full force and visibility was almost at zero. Hot air wrapped around her as she tried to sterilize the wound. The sand was making it difficult to say the least. While her back was to the wind; she poured the stringent fluid over the wound. She yelled out as it bubbled and oozed. Blood dripped to the ground and made clods of mud that rolled away with the wind. When the initial shock ended and she could see the damage done clearly, she dosed it with medi-gel and gauzed it as fast as possible.

Even though combat medicine wasn't her strong suit, she had fixed herself to the best of her abilities. Given the situation she was in, if she survived the night, she'd be her own damn hero. She put her helmet on again and pulled her backpack around to see what was left. There was one medium sized metal box that couldn't quite fit through the hole in the pack. She looked inside: one canteen of water, a week's worth of field rations and two thermal clips still remained. Not much to work with, but at least it gave her a chance.

It's better than I thought; worse than I feared. Let's drag out the impending doom a little longer.

She grinned at herself for being a pessimist. She was always called an optimist but the irony of it all made her laugh hysterically. She had always planned for the worst and hoped for the best, but this situation couldn't possibly get any worse than it already was. She collected her items and put her gloves back on.

"No atheists in foxholes, huh?" She chortled.

Facing down enemy battalions, thresher maws, slavers, mercenaries, turians, and batarians had put her in a truly cynical mood of late. She kept walking, letting her hand trace the walls of the mesa. The sky had grown dark with the dust thrown up into the air. Her bare calf burned from the abrasiveness of the environment. She was exhausted and she was hungry. She didn't know how much time had passed since the winds had picked up so drastically.

She didn't care at the moment. She just wanted to find shelter and bunker down for the night. She stumbled a few times along the way making her injuries throb all the more. When she reached the south facing wall of the mesa, she sat down again to rest her legs. The back of her leg was almost as raw as the front. There wasn't much she could do about it. For now, though, she was going to eat. She grabbed some food and sat in silence grinding down the sickening food that hit her stomach hard. She forced herself to keep it down and kept eating and sipping water. Dying of shock was low on her list of things to do.

Survival and trying to get a message back to Arcturus were top priorities right now. How she was going to accomplish it with what she had was beyond her, but she was willing to try, nonetheless. She brought up her omni-tool and scanned comm signals. Nothing but static on every band she checked. Towards the ends of hope, she tried one more time and finally she got a ping. It was stronger than what she thought it would be given the conditions, but she was happy regardless.

"What the hell? Who could be here? What could be here?" She questioned her results regardless of her glee.

She stood up with renewed spirit, or curiosity, she couldn't tell. It didn't matter. She followed the pinging until it was screaming into her head. The noise was echoing in her helmet and it had made it feel like her ears were bleeding. With the wind howling like it was, it needed to be that loud. She stopped and looked around and saw nothing. No ships, no people, no nothing. Just rocks, and scrub brush were around speckling the ground in a haphazard fashion.

Idiot, you were chasing a ghost. You should have gone with your instincts on this one.

"Fuck it all to hell! Damn it! Son of a bitch!" She yelled in disgust and exhaustion.

She sat down again to lean against the wall of rock and proceed with a maintenance check. When she leaned back to prop herself up she kept going till she was flat on her back looking up at what was a ceiling. What the hell? She jumped up to her feet and drew her side arm in reflex. Her head was spinning from the quick jump to standing. It was dark and the thought of everything being a delusion was running at the forefront of her mind. Her eyes were trying to adjust to the lack of light. It was obvious though that night had fallen. It was pitch black out in the wasteland and even darker in this newly discovered hole in the wall. She lowered her weapon and took a step forward.

Well I'll be damned, shelter.

She grabbed her pack and walked inside. Anything was better than being out in the elements. She took her helmet off and turned her flashlight on that was attached to her sidearm. The cave was deep and seemed to go on forever. The air was stale and cool; odd commodities for a place like this. She walked deeper in holding her gun away from her to see if anything was in here. She walked for several minutes and finally plopped down far enough down the way that it would take a few minutes to get to where she was. The air was pungent and refreshing in the same second. It was much better than breathing dirt outside. She shined her flashlight down the hallway; it seemed it snaked through the mesa itself.

If this was to be her home away from home for awhile, she wanted to know what was going on with this tunnel. It obviously wasn't natural. Probably a stock area for the drug runners. Her eyes were getting heavy the longer she sat. Her body refused to move from the spot it was in. She wasn't going to try and stay awake, she'd accomplished more than she thought she would, with a few minor setbacks along the way but it was a good day. She checked her omni-tool for the time: 0230 zulu time. She set the alarm to go off for 0700 and shut off the flashlight for the rest of the night.

0145 Zulu time 05.12.2183

"Sir, we have a problem. One of our listening posts is posting Signal Alpha 3." A youthful green-eyed turian called from his post. The red light flashed in a repetitive rhythm on his interface.

"Which one is it?" Commander Vakarian asked.

"Helyme, sir. Twenty klicks south from where the EA mining complex was." He responded.

During the first weeks of the fighting, most of the Alliance's complexes were destroyed by sat-strikes. It crippled the Alliance for some time, but they were recouping their losses quicker than they could be taken away.

"I didn't think anyone was using that post right now." The commander commented.

"How long would it take for us to get there?" A third turian asked. He never looked at the new recruit.

"About a day, sir."

"Is there anyone closer?" the third turian asked.

"No, we're the closest out here by 12 light years."

"Well, we have time, let's go take a look." Commander Vakarian muttered.

"It's probably nothing. Do you want to just relay it to one of the other ships? This is the second time we've had to go." The third turian interjected.

"This is our patrol route, lieutenant. If there is a problem, then we need to find out what it is. Do you want the enemy to find out about it?" The Commander Vakarian retorted. "Now set a course for Helyme."

"Aye Aye, sir." The young turian responded.

Commaner Vakarian got up and walked down a corridor to his quarters. His head was throbbing. Dealing with Lieutenant Gaeto was more than a taxing proposition. He was mouthy and always tried to undercut his commands. If he could kill him, he would. It would have been a good and bad example for the young recruit to see what happened when you argued with your commanding officer.

There wasn't much else to do, but wait till they got there. It was less than a day's flight in FTL. It could be worse; they could have put me with the ground troops that were trying to take out the outlier colonies. He had already gone through that already. It wasn't something that needed to be repeated in his lifetime. Not a fun idea. During the first waves of battle he was assigned to lead a small platoon to take out a small human colony. The name of it escaped him, but it didn't matter, it was a colony. Most of the men had left the colony for work that morning at the refinery not far from the town. Mostly women and children were left.

Their orders were to wipe the colony off the map. Kill anything that moved it didn't matter what it was. The attack was a cheap shot at humanity for their messed up attempt to try and take over their spots as defenders of Citadel Space. They were going to be corrected accordingly and this was the best way to get their point across. Their tactics had reminded him of batarian guerilla warfare. It was sickening and disheartening. He knew he had a job to do and he dared not say anything about it. He just did the job like he was told to do. It didn't help him feel any better about it and from then it was hard to sleep at night.

By the time they were done, bodies were strewn from one end of the colony to the other. The sidewalks and paths were flooded with the crimson red blood that flowed from the endless gunshot wounds. The last thing that was to be done was to destroy the refinery and get rid of that colony once and for all. He sent a small troop of people to the refinery with the orders to set the core into critical overload. The rest of them would meet them at the extraction point. Over the comm he heard that they were ready and that they would be there within five minutes. It was enough time to get back and a good distance away from the blast.

His eyes opened quickly panting at the recollection turned nightmare. He was sitting at his desk full of datapads stacked one on top of the other. I must have dozed off. He stood up and walked out of the room. He walked back to the cockpit still remembering everything from four months ago.

"How much time till we get there, private?" He asked.

The young turian jumped out of his chair and turned around to salute.

"Twelve hours till touchdown sir."

"Where's Lieutenant Gaeto? He's supposed to relieve you now."

"I don't know sir, he left shortly after you did."

"Thank you. Go get him, I'll take over for you until he gets here." The commander sat at the helm and clicked a few buttons on the interface. The private saluted again and walked out of the room.

An hour later, Gaeto came in. He was still sleepy and rubbing his eyes.

"Sorry Commander. I guess I overslept."

"You sure as hell did."

"I'm sorry sir, it won't happen again."

"You bet your ass you won't." He hissed. "You've got this shift until we touchdown you understand."

"Aye sir."

Commander Vakarian got off the helm controls and left the cockpit. There were plenty of reports that needed to be written about how completely uneventful their route was, except for this little pit stop. He hoped it was something more than some damn creature trying to create a den.