I do not own Mass Effect.
Drabbles, oneshots and all things in-between - they'll all go here. Expect variety with warnings where appropriate.
Note: Kolyat/Oriana-focused tidbits will be uploaded under The Hitman and the Clone.
Thank you for reading!
The Hushed Casket
There is fire and then there is only the yawning dark.
(Breathe.)
Her breaths heave ragged in the vacuum, each one ticking by the seconds since she last saw a face white behind flames and screaming her name while the Normandy retched her out into the -
(Blackness above, below, beyond, within, outside.)
- empty void.
(One breath, two breaths.)
She is angry. She is afraid. She is -
(SERVICE NO. 5923-AC-2826, REQUESTING ASSISTANCE - )
There is nothing to hold onto. Her limbs flail at emptiness, brush against nothing. There is no friction, no sense of stability, and no sense of self aside from the fog of breath at her lips and the lurching of a heart within her chest. Said muscle quivers and she drifts, fractionally, spinning with the force of one more beat.
(Movement in the vacuum; movement within her.)
Ribs crackle against the interior of her hardsuit when she estimates the damage done by the Normandy's last throes. Some part of her wants to see it; to salute the only headstone so many of her crew will ever know.
But she can't. There is nothing to pivot on and so she simply trails the shadow of the planet known as Alchera where it curves into its sun.
(A hiss in her ear.)
Her lips crack and her mouth goes dry. It is flecked with tiny spots of blood that tasted of iron once. Freezing. Her chest constricts.
(Three breaths, four breaths.)
She reaches for her back. Warning lights sing in her hardsuit's internal computer. Life leaks through her fingers as she struggles to - to do something even when she can do nothing, because a greater voice than hers is calling.
(Sharp breaths quicken when they should slow. Five, six, seven now.)
Sunlight breaks across the surface of Alchera and for a moment it is beautiful, but she does not see. All she can see are the black teeth of the void dotted with stars, each gleaming like teeth, and everything is spinning and there is nothing there to catch her, no control as she hurtles through space with all the grace of a dancer; slow, end over end and illuminated by Amada's halo.
(Out here the sun never sets, but people do.)
Amada's light washes across her helmet's visor when she arches, her hands scrabbling: She is deafened by the sound of her own choking, of decompression, of bubbling, of a hiss in the dark behind her ear. For a second she sees the flash of her own face mirrored in front of her when her HMD flickers and dies.
(And she wonders: do machine gods laugh?)
Familiar faces made of echoes and ash - she recalls them all at once, both the living and the dead.
("I don't regret a thing," he'd said.)
Life Support...
-
(:FAILING:)
Blackness above, below, beyond, within, outside.
USER ALERT!
Systems critical.
Extensive damage detected.
USER ALERT!
Suit breach detected.
(:Local atmosphere venting to space:)
USER ALERT!
Sealants unresponsive.
(:Systems failure imminent:)
USER ALERT!
Service no. 5923-AC-2826 critical.
(:Systems failure imminent:)
ALERT: Emergency systems offline.
USER ALERT!
Service no. 5923-AC-2826 critical.
(:Power levels at 12%:)
ERROR
reset…..
User alert!
Service no. 5923-AC-2826 unresponsive.
(:Power levels at 03%:)
ERROR
reset…..
user alert!
Service no 592
3-AC-282
6
unresponsive. /
Initiati—Ng kinETIC subrou/
ERROR
reset…..
(The eighth breath never comes.)
ERROR
reset…..
ERROR
reset…..
ERROR
reset…..
ERROR
reset…..
reset…..
reset…..
reset…..
reset…..
reset…..
reset…..
reset…..