Author's Note: In most of my works, Shepard was the hero of the Elysium Blitz of 2178. This piece is a departure from that continuity, placing her instead on Akuze in 2177- but I think the story merits telling. I hope you agree.

Mass Effect and associated characters are property of Bioware. The men and women of the SSV Montreal are my own.

Edited for continuity, 4/30/2009. Thanks for the pickup, guys.

Harvest

Part 1: Strange World

March 12, 2177
Day 1

What a lousy place for a colony. Clouds of dust unfurl like banners beneath the treads of the Grizzly as it rolls off the cruiser onto the yellow-brown soil of Akuze. The unit's new Makos cut smoothly across the terrain a few dozen meters ahead, making their way toward the tiny cluster of buildings on the horizon. Shepard likes the Makos. They're sleeker, more streamlined, more maneuverable than the obsolete Grizzlys- which, of course, is why the lieutenants commandeered all three. No trees anywhere, no green plants- and they were hoping to farm here? At least Mindoir had trees.

With all the transports unloaded, the hatch closes and the engines of the SSV Montreal roar to life. As the ship vanishes above the cloudline, the radio comes alive with a sharp pop and a burst of static; the speakers squeal in protest at Lieutenant Roberts' voice. She winces, and turns the volume down.

"Is he always that loud?" Corporal Doran, manning the guns, covers her ears and makes a face.

Shepard simply rolls her eyes at the radio as the briefing begins. "Welcome to Akuze, ladies and gentlemen. As one of humanity's newest colonies at only five months old, this was to be an agricultural experiment in soil suitability- as you will probably smell if you take your helmets off, the dirt here is full of sulfur." At the edge of her peripheral vision, she can see Gonzales accompanying the speech with inappropriate hand gestures. She tries not to snort too loud. "At last count there were seventy-three residents in Akuze's only settlement, Mount Moriah. This name was apparently a joke on the part of the colony founders, since the planet is actually quite flat."

The transports continue their trek across the surface as Roberts' voice drones on; she keeps her eyes focused on the slowly enlarging settlement until the interesting part of the briefing starts. "So- why are we here, I can hear you asking? There has been no communication from anyone on Akuze for five days. The last known message marked the arrival of a resupply ship, which departed as planned on March 6 and has already made its next scheduled stop. Since that time, repeated attempts to raise the colony by radio and video have gone unanswered. Our task is to locate the colonists and, if necessary, assist them in repair of their communications assembly. I will assign individual group tasks when we arrive at the settlement." The speakers shut off and the sigh of relief that follows practically shakes the Grizzly.

"So... we're AV repairmen now?" Private Thompson asks from his seat at the rear of the tank. "With all due respect, Chief, this isn't the kind of thing I enlisted to do."

Before she can answer, there's the thud of fingertips against something hollow and a grumble of protest from Thompson. "Shut the hell up, man. For all you know they got kidnapped by batarians or enslaved by a bunch of nymphomaniac asari or eaten by space cows or something. I bet it'll be interesting, no matter what." Shepard has to turn around to place the voice- another of the new privates. Carpenter, she thinks.

"Space cows, Carpenter?" she asks, mildly.

"Yes, ma'am. Space cows." No one can keep a straight face after that, and Shepard waits for the laughter to fade before she responds.

"We'll see. And Thompson... this is exactly the sort of thing we do. Anytime you stop getting comms- from anyone, Private, I don't care if it's a colony or your scouting party- you check it out." Five seconds of silence go by; she sighs, shrugs. "That's enough lecture for now, at any rate. A word of advice, though- don't take your helmet off when we get there. Trust me."

The rest of the ride to the settlement is uneventful, and they pile out of the Grizzly to join the rest of the unit. As they stand in formation, Shepard does a quick head count- three lieutenants, seven chiefs of various flavors, ten corporals, fifteen privates (first class), sixteen FNGs. All present and accounted for. What a unit. Two-thirds of our officers fresh from OCS and half the privates just out of Basic. It seems like an eternity ago that she was in their position, wide-eyed and eager to prove herself. Skinny little farmgirl Shepard, from Mindoir to foster care to the military; five years and twenty pounds of muscle later, she has plenty of commendations and precious little closure but at least it's something.

Akuze is even less pleasant now that she's outside the transport; it's hot inside her hardsuit and the wind kicks up dust to cloud her visor. Mount Moriah (the name rings a bell but she can't place it) is unimpressive, even to her- a cluster of prefabricated shelters, a few larger buildings, and a tarpaulin-covered empty garage make up the majority of the settlement, with a single landing pad a few hundred meters distant. She cannot see the fields from here... they must be just over the rise, blocked by the buildings and the gentle slope of the hill. The buildings are still and silent; she sees nothing moving within.

"Shepard, you'll take... ah, who was in your Grizzly?" The lieutenant strolls over; she bites her tongue to keep from saying something foolish.

"Sir, that would be Cooper, Doran, Gonzales, Carpenter, O'Reilly, Singh, and Thompson. In order of rank. Sir."

"Yes, of course. Take that group and reconnoiter those three buildings-" he points, "then report back in to Lieutenant Phillips with any pertinent information. Any questions, Chief?" His word choices remind her of Gunny Ellison, sometimes. If he ever uses the word pusillanimous, so help me God...

"No, sir." He moves on, and Shepard beckons her team in close. "You heard the man. We'll take each building as a complete team. I know that for some of you, this is your first real mission, so if you have questions as we go I want to hear them. Clear?"

Helmet-clad heads move up and down in unison as the group falls in together, jogging toward the garage. On second glance, as on first, it's a standard-looking building with no rips or tears in the heavy fabric sides. She takes a few steps under the overhang, then turns to face the others. "Can anyone tell me how many vehicles were parked here- not you, Cooper... Private Singh, what the hell are you doing?"

He's on his hands and knees, retching into the dirt with his helmet rolling on the ground beside him. "LT said the air was ok to breathe, so I- oh, fuck, it smells so bad..." He vomits, then looks up at her pathetically. "I just wanted to- ugh." Shepard reaches his side in a few quick strides, scoops his helmet under one arm and slams it back on his head in one swift motion. She motions to Doran, who slips her arms beneath Singh's and hauls the man to his feet.

"Sulfur, Private Singh. Sulfur. I told you not to take your helmet off, and if you puke in it now it's your own damn problem." Hand on her hip, she surveys the rest of the team. "Anyone else got any bright ideas, or is someone going to answer my question? You have sixty seconds."

The privates scatter to all corners of the garage, staring intently at the dirt. Cooper smirks at her behind his visor; she grins and gives him the finger as Carpenter comes running back eagerly. "Seven vehicles, Chief Shepard, and they all went that way.. um, east. I think."

Very good. This one's got promise. "Correct, Private Carpenter." She can't help but smile at the girl's enthusiasm- it reminds her too much of herself. "Probably out toward the fields- we'll check our other two buildings first, though. What have we figured out so far, team?"

Gonzales speaks up, this time. "Well, they had a decent amount of transportation, and they took all the vehicles somewhere and didn't come back. Or someone did, anyway- and all the antennas are on that one building, so they probably didn't go to fix the communications equipment."

Again, Shepard nods approvingly. "Unless someone broke it after everyone else was gone... overall, though, I agree with that assessment. Let's move on."

The door slides open automatically as the group approaches the next building- so we've still got power, which rules out one possibility. One of the larger structures in the settlement on the outside, on the inside she finds it about half-full of wooden and composite crates and loaded pallets. And they didn't run out of food- but we knew that from the supply ship's report. Farm equipment, seeds, fertilizer... containers of water, processed rations, medical supplies, grenades, power cells- "Grenades?"

"I thought you had the grenades, Chief," Doran yells from across the room.

"Sorry, I was talking to myself. I do have the grenades, but there's an empty crate over here with that label- why the hell do a bunch of farmers need a box of grenades? We didn't get briefed about any major predators." She sees two of the privates exchange looks-

"Damn it!" She hits the floor as the sound of the gunshot echoes off the warehouse's metal walls. "Everyone, report- what was that?"

"Nothing here, Shepard."

"Clear."

"No targets visualized, Chief."

"All quiet on the western front, ma'am."

"I've got nothing."

"Negative contacts."

Someone's laughing, over near the door- loud and long, with the faintest tinge of hysteria mixed in. "Oh- oh, man. S-s-sorry, Chief- it just jumped at me, and I thought- I thought... I just shot at it, I'm sorry- madre de Dios..." Gonzales. Shepard's up and moving before she can even process what's been said.

"What jumped at you, Gonzales? Talk to me, Private." He's on his back, sprawled over a crate with his Kessler still in his hand, and gestures up at the rafters. She squints. "I don't see anything."

He holsters the pistol, shuddering to recapture his lost breath. "I think it was a cat, ma'am." And there it is, grey-furred against the dull metal sheen of the roof- a cat, complete with what looks to be a blue collar.

Oh, fuck me. Only the fact that she is still wearing her helmet prevents her from slapping her own forehead. She grinds her teeth against every statement that comes immediately to mind that's more than fifty percent profanity and finally settles on something mostly appropriate.

"An empty box of grenades and Gonzales' new pet- productive search, ladies and gentlemen. Now get outside before we find the rest of the zoo." The rest of the team emerges from cover and make their way over to the exit, teasing Gonzales as they step outside; Shepard gives him a halfhearted shove into the afternoon light and closes the door on the errant animal.

The third building they were given is mostly living quarters- twelve little rooms connected by showers and toilet stalls, with only a scant few photographs taped to consoles to mark each room as belonging to any one person. She pauses for a moment, studying a few of the images; a pretty blonde woman holding a young child waves from one, holds hands with a dark-haired man in another. The console in this room contains only personal mail, the last dated three days ago and unread until she clicks on it and even then it's a simple love-letter- no mention of problems, attacks, anything out of the ordinary in any of the messages and nothing her omni-tool can pick up, either. The chatter she hears over the comms suggests that the other rooms are much the same: all vacant of their owners and all unhelpful. With each room cleared, they converge in the long hallway and move toward the back of the dormitory.

There's a second team already searching through cabinets when Shepard and her squad reach the kitchen. "Bring back any memories, Shepard?" Gunnery Chief Adams grins at her from inside the tiny pantry as she peers through the door.

(It wasn't a pantry, though- it was the janitor's closet at Club Zero on Arcturus. They were nineteen, fresh from the medical bay after their first combat injuries and hopped up on adrenaline and two-credit tequila shots. He'd ripped the back of her shirt lifting it over her bandaged shoulder, then spent fifteen minutes afterward trying to piece it back together with a roll of electrical tape they'd found; it didn't work, so they just covered each other in tape and called it a fashion statement when they stumbled back onto the dance floor together. Nothing formal had ever come out of it, though every once in a while she'll find a piece of tape stuck across her locker door and they lock themselves in one of the showers to blow off a little steam- they're just friends, at the end of the day.)

"I told you, Mike, I can't be held responsible for what I do when I'm drunk." But Shepard grins back at him and reaches out to thump her fist against his. Singh and O'Reilly look confused- then again, they usually look confused. She again reminds herself that they're still in the phase where the hardest part of a firefight is making sure you don't shoot yourself in the foot while running. "And I thought we had this building. Find anything?"

"Not a damn thing- it's like they sat down to dinner, went outside to check out a noise and just wandered off." He shrugs. "Left the main vid-phone off the hook and everything. And as for the double coverage, blame the LT for sloppy pointing." The rest of Adams' team peers through the door opposite hers; he waves them off. "We cleared the far side, but we've got one more building to do, anyway- catch you in a few." The door slides closed behind him as he follows his team's retreat.

She turns to the team clustered behind her. "Alright, let's figure out where we are as we walk. Thoughts?"

"Well, ma'am..." Thompson speaks up. "There's no one here, and they took their vehicles and a whole box of grenades somewhere, right? If this were a mystery vid, we'd figure out where they were going and follow them-"

"And then get eaten." Cooper grins.

"By space cows." Private Carpenter finishes the thought, and Shepard can't help but laugh along with the rest of them as they make their way back to the Grizzly. She leaves the group there for a few minutes' rest while she goes to update Phillips on the results of their search.

Second Lieutenant Phillips, leaning against one of the Makos, waves as she approaches. "Hey, Shepard. Anything interesting?" She's liked Phillips so far- the lieutenant only joined the unit in January fresh from the Academy and they've been patrolling this system ever since, but she seems competent and listens to her crew; she wouldn't have said either of those about Roberts, and she's served under him ever since Basic.

"Vehicles are gone, ma'am, all headed eastward, and there's an empty box of grenades in one of the warehouses. Otherwise.. no, ma'am. Nothing on any of the consoles we found, and no one located, alive or otherwise." She cracks her knuckles through the gloves of her hardsuit. "What's the next step?"

"We head east, I think. Let your squad rest for a while- we'll all head out together once the other teams regroup. How's the batch of new recruits you've got?" Phillips gestures to the tread next to her; Shepard sits, turning to face the other woman.

"A little green, ma'am, but they'll manage. I keep reminding myself that I was in their position, once... mostly it keeps me from going drill instructor on them." She leans back against the side of the Mako and closes her eyes.

"I've read your file; I doubt you were ever in their position. You're a good soldier, Shepard-" the lieutenant trails off mid-sentence. "Damn, there's Roberts. Better get ready to move."

"You, too?" She grins as the woman simply shrugs. "See you in a few, ma'am."

It takes another ten minutes to load everyone in and get the transports moving, but finally the Grizzly crests the last hill and- oh, Jesus. What once must have been neatly plowed fields are now studded with craters and holes and the smoldering remains of half a dozen vehicles. She pulls the Grizzly up short and stares for a moment as her mind flips through all the pages of xenobiology she's managed to cram in over five years; nothing fits with what she sees. This, whatever it is, is something new.

Half a dozen voices ring out together over the radio, offering suggestions- everything from nathaks to orbital strikes.

"Probably just colonist infighting." But Roberts doesn't sound certain. "There were no reports of predators on this planet. Everyone, out and in formation."

Patel and Phillips are both arguing with the senior lieutenant by the time the rest of the unit forms up, and Shepard does her best not to listen though she's a scant few feet from the trio. At this distance and without the vision constraints of the Grizzly, she can barely see the crumpled black-clad forms scattered between the rows; she bites her lip, hard, to keep the memories away.

("What's your name, young lady?" The soldier leans down, wipes the blood from her forehead. Behind his visor his eyes are kind.

"Tana, sir. Tana Shepard." They walk so fast with the stretcher that all she can see are the black bags- rows and rows of them- and then she cannot see anything except her own tears.)

"And I'm telling you, sir, that something attacked these people. The craters, the slagged tractors- whatever it was must have hit the field crew first. Someone got word back to the settlement, the rest of them came driving up with the grenades and they all got killed anyway... shit. What a mess." Patel sighs.

"I'm reserving judgment until I see the bodies. Get out there and get this place cleaned up. You too, Phillips." The lieutenant turns on his heel and strides back to the Mako.

With two members of each team left to man the cannons ("if you see anything pop up in the middle of the field or swoop down from the sky, shoot first and panic later") the rest of the unit picks its way carefully across the broken ground and the broken machinery. The dead colonists are everywhere, now that she's close enough to really see- beneath the crumpled machines and vehicles, thrown halfway across the fields- and some are gut-wrenchingly disfigured.

Carpenter stops working for a minute and just stands, staring at something beyond Shepard's view, then grabs Thompson's arm and points. He stops, too; she gives the ATV she and Doran are righting one final shove into position and approaches the pair. Carpenter turns to her, wide-eyed. "He's... ugh, Chief. His face is gone." And it is- she's never seen wounds like this before with her own eyes, only in briefing videos and field manuals. The reality is terrible. The man at their feet looks like his torso was dipped in acid, and there is nothing left of his face but white bone and a few clinging shreds of muscle. "What killed all these people?"

"I'm not sure." She rests her hand on the girl's shoulder. "But the colonists didn't have armor or guns. They probably didn't know what was attacking them, or how to fight it. Who knows if they even knew how to use those grenades?" Odd, though, that we haven't found a single one, exploded or otherwise. "Whatever it was- it's probably gone, now, and if it comes back we'll be ready. Right, Private?" The girl gives her a weak smile, but nods and reaches beneath the dead man's arms even as Thompson lifts the legs.

All in all, they pull sixty-seven men and women from the dirt and lay them beside each other in neat rows. In the fading light of the afternoon, no one's willing to look too closely into the deep holes that dot the ground; if there are bodies within, they'll stay there, if only for a little while.

"We'll camp here tonight." Lieutenant Roberts gestures at the open space around them. "If there even is something here-" he stares right at her but she refuses to blink- "it would have attacked us by now with all the vibration from the transports. We'll move the bodies back up to the settlement in the morning and radio for the Montreal from there." His tone does not bear questioning.

They unload the transports in silence and raise their tents in the shadow of the hill; the rows of black bags at the edge of the field seems to dull any urge for conversation they might once have had. Field rations are distributed and devoured, weapons are cleaned, watches are assigned until finally, the circle in the middle of the tents is still and quiet. Akuze has no moons, and flashlights guide the men and women of the unit safely to their cots.

Shepard takes first watch, and stares out into the growing dark with one hand on her pistol. Suddenly, this planet feels uncomfortably like home.