Earth Angel part 1/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 01:23:04 UTC
Jane Shepard bolted upright, all sleepiness falling away as the shockwave rattled the foundations of her house. She jumped out of bed muttering, “I swear to god, if the cops are here again I’m gonna send them all home with lead in their asses.” It wouldn’t be the first time the local fuzz had busted her (an occupational hazard that those who made illegal moonshine occasionally had to endure), but they usually waited until most decent people had had a chance to get breakfast. This, though-this was different and a part of her recognized that even as she shook the last of the sleep-daze from her brain. She went to the window and pulled aside the drapes just enough to peek out into the darkened yard. Nothing stood out at first, but then she saw smoke rising from just behind the tree line.
“Oh, hell,” she swore, tugging a robe on over her short cotton nightgown. At the door she put on an old pair of brown leather work boots and grabbed the shotgun and a flashlight from the foyer closet. After cracking it open to see that it was loaded and ready, she ventured out into the cool night air. The ground mist curled around her legs and parted in smoky waves behind her as she made her way over the dew-covered grass toward the woods that edged her property. Autumn came late to this part of the country and she spared a passing thought for the harvest and the money she’d have to shell out to the hired hands soon. She plunged into the shadows of the tall oaks and maples and waded through the undergrowth, heading toward the flickering orange light of a fire a few dozen yards up ahead. She held the shotgun by her hip, hoping she wouldn’t have to use it.
When she reached the source of the fire, at first her mind couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Slowly, though, the shapes started to coalesce into something that made even less sense. There was a large structure that gleamed in the shaky beam of her flashlight; it was maybe fifteen feet high and stuck out of the ground at about a 45 degree angle. Behind and to the left of the strange metal thing was a long path of destruction-uprooted saplings, broken branches, a raw deep furrow carved in the forest floor. It was nothing short of a miracle that the thing hadn’t crashed into a tree.
Wait, crashed? Was that what this was, a wrecked plane? It certainly didn’t look like any kind of plane she’d ever seen before; the hull (if that’s what it was) was curved strangely and looked like something out of a science fiction movie. Shepard went around to what she figured was the front and saw that the structure was hanging open and askew on twisted hinges. She trained the beam of her flashlight into the shadowy interior and had to bite back a scream at what she saw there.
Whatever the thing was, it definitely wasn’t human. It was gray and covered in skin (for lack of a better word) that had a slightly metallic gleam to it. Its head lolled to one side and she could just see the long wicked-looking spikes that stuck straight off the back of its head. There was a blue glowing eyepatch-thing covering one eye and what might have been pincers like an insect on either side of its mouth. Everything from the neck down was covered in thick blue metal armor. By all rights, it should have scared the living hell out of her but she found herself creeping closer, her heart pounding, her mouth dry as a bone. She crouched down to get a better look, certain that it had been killed in the crash. For all the features that absolutely screamed alien, there was no doubt it was humanoid in shape.
Earth Angel part 2/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 01:26:42 UTC
A real alien! she thought. There’s an alien ship with an honest-to-god alien in it in my woods! She was vaguely aware that this was not the typical reaction someone should have to a spiky metallic alien from space, but she had grown up on comic books and sci-fi double features much to her parent’s chagrin. Bless them, they had tried so hard to get her to fit into the stereotypical “girl” role, but she had made a career out of rebelling against the mold. Her brother John had had a hand in that, too, ensuring that she’d grow up a tomboy. He was always dragging her into the barn to try out the new rope swing he’d set up, or going drag racing with his friends in the middle of the night (those same friends had introduced her to her first liquor at the age of twelve). When he’d volunteered to fight the Germans, she had joined up with her fellow Rosie the Riveters to help out the war effort and had been right at home wearing pants and machining parts for tanks. As soon as he’d gotten back from Europe, John had immediately bought a few acres of land and built a house and barn on it, and he’d insisted that she live there with him. She had jumped at the chance, and after a few years of making an honest farm living they’d started up an illegal distillery in the barn to supplement their income. She wished he was here now to see this-he’d have gotten a huge kick out of it-but he had to go into town for a few days to scare up enough workers to help out with the corn and barley crop.
Shepard had unconsciously leaned forward and braced her hand against the smooth metal of the ship’s hull, mere feet away from the alien, when its eyes flew open and it gasped. She flung herself backward too fast and overbalanced, landing on her butt and scrambling back with the shotgun clamped in her white-knuckled fist. The alien started to climb out of the cockpit and she saw how big it was, all hard edges and metal over its tall predatory form. Shepard’s retreat was stopped by a tree and she pressed her back into it, aiming her shotgun at the emerging alien.
It took a few seconds to check itself over for major injuries and she shifted the gun a little higher. Its head whipped around at the movement and its blazing blue eyes locked on her, taking in both her and the gun in one quick glance. Shepard was amazed when it slowly raised its hands and started making the strangest noises she had ever heard-chirruping sounds of various tones and pitches, clicking with its pincer-things, guttural growls and long vowel sounds interspersed with trilling, and its voice was laced with a deep underlying sub-harmonic. Shepard realized after a few seconds that it was trying to talk to her. The alien stayed well back from her, keeping its hands up where she could see them, and the bass notes in its voice were strangely soothing. There was something in it eyes, too . . . something gentle and completely at odds with its menacing outward appearance.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” she said, very proud of herself for keeping her voice steady and even.
The alien sighed rolled its eyes up as if to ask the sky what to do. It was such a . . . human thing to do that she started to let down her guard in spite of the voice in the back of her head insisting that the thing was going to kill and eat her at any moment. It pointed to its chest and said, enunciating carefully, “Garrus.” At least she thought that was what it said; the way it said it was ‘Guh-click-arrus’ with a soft click of its mandibles.
Shepard pointed at him, her hand trembling only slightly, and repeated him (she was pretty sure it was a him; there was something universally masculine about him). “Garrus.” He nodded and his pincers flared out to reveal a wicked set of pointed teeth. Oh my god, is he smiling at me? She touched her chest and said, “Jane Shepard.”
Earth Angel part 3/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 01:29:47 UTC
He looked confused at first, trying to figure out how to form her name with his mouth. “Gah . . . Zhayne Keh . . . Kyeppard.” Shepard nodded and smiled at him. He repeated it again a little more clearly and pointed at her, the excitement showing on his face. She laughed out loud and lowered the shotgun, the absolute craziness of the night's events making her giddy, and he trilled at her in a way that sounded like he was laughing, too.
“Close enough, big guy.” She stood up, brushing the worst of the dirt off her butt (lamenting the stains; she’d have to soak the robe forever to get them out). Garrus dropped his hands to his sides and relaxed a bit; it was clear he still didn’t really know what to do when confronted with small armed humans in the woods at night. Well, tonight was definitely a night for firsts. He gestured to his ship and tried to convey a question to her and she nodded, not entirely sure what she was giving him permission to do. He bent over the open cockpit and rummaged around for a minute, taking out small packages of unrecognizable stuff and making a small pile of salvage at his feet. He took out a small oblong metal box with glowing symbols on it and turned it over in his hands, sighing dejectedly.
The last thing he drew out of the cockpit gave her pause-the rifle was huge and sleek, the matte surface painted with strange symbols along the side. Her new buddy attached it to his back and began packing the pile of stuff into a gunny sack. He slung the strap over his shoulder and smiled at her before waving and heading off into the woods.
“Hey! No, wait!” Shepard called and he turned back around, a question in his eyes. “Um, you could come with me.” She pointed to him, then herself, then off toward her house. Garrus looked surprised, but after a few moments’ consideration he gestured in the direction she was pointing. Lead the way. They walked together, still maintaining a little more distance than necessary, out of the woods and the alien beside her chirruped when he saw her house in the middle of the well-kept yard.
Jane Shepard, you’re insane. You’re not seriously considering bringing a creature from another planet that looks made to rip people apart to stay in your house, are you? No, the answered the small voice of reason that still managed to make itself heard even after all she’d done over the years to silence it. No, she was not considering it-she had already decided. Maybe it was her fascination with the unknown, or the thrill of meeting a real live alien, or some death wish she didn’t know she had, but she had to admit that it was at least partially because his blue eyes were so expressive and calm. He didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt her and her instincts told her that this alien, no matter what he looked like, was probably not intent on a hostile invasion.
Art!Anon strikes again!
anonymous
August 31 2012, 05:41:00 UTC
A!A, the way you set up your Shepard I completely buy it- her upbringing with the boys and comics and independence, her time in the factories during the war, her personality? She's fucking beautiful and perfect and nothing here feels contrived, I love this woman hardcore- so have some fanart! http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a69/Velasa/Bribes%20for%20the%20Kmeme/50sawesomesauceShep.jpg
Also, her brother John being there? Awesome. And Garrus going along with it in a thoroughly why-the-hell-not attitude? Awesome. Stalking this.
Oh my god,you guys! Not only do I wake up to five comments I get artwork too?!? I love you guys so much, you certainly do know how to warm a girl's heart. (Btw, I love the file name--awesome sauce Shep, indeed.) ;)
Earth Angel part 4/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 10:04:43 UTC
She made a stop at the water pump to fill a bucket and carried it up the five steps to the wide wraparound porch. When she started shifting around the flashlight and shotgun to free one of her hands, Garrus reached past her and opened the door for her. She noticed that he had only three fingers and it looked like they were tipped with short, curved talons but he was wearing black gloves under his gauntlets so she couldn’t be sure. She kicked off her boots and, after a long pause during which she decided that if he was going to kill her he’d have done it by now and buckshot probably wouldn’t penetrate his armor anyway, put the shotgun back in the closet. When she turned around Garrus was still outside on the porch scraping the dirt from the bottoms of his boots with the shoe brush. It was such a small gesture of consideration, but he earned a lot of points with her for it.
While the Shepard homestead was firmly in the Virginia countryside, it was close enough to Richmond for them to have electricity; a luxury not many farm houses had yet further out from the city. She turned on the lamps in the living room, the shadows retreating into the corners of the high ceilings and pooled under the furniture. There were two couches facing each other with a coffee table in between, two chairs flanking the wide doorway, a bookcase full to overflowing with paperbacks and comic books, and a curio cabinet with a set of nice china dishes from her mother. She led Garrus into the room and he sat down on the couch, dropping the gunny sack on the floor next to him. Shepard carried the bucket of water into the kitchen and fired up the stove to boil some water for tea. As she set about the mundane task of fetching mugs and teabags, her mind began to supply her with all the reasons she absolutely should not have a god damned space alien in her house.
That crash was loud enough to wake you out of a dead sleep, surely someone must have heard it? There wasn’t another house for two miles in any direction; any sound that managed to carry that far could easily be explained away as thunder or something.
What are you going to do about the flaming space ship in the woods? Well, first of all the fire had gone out by the time they’d left it, and actually that was the easy part of this little adventure. She could go out in the morning and tow it into the barn, cover it with a tarp, and it would blend right in with the scenery. Unless someone got curious, it would look like just another covered piece of machinery.
What if the police try to shut down the still again and see him? What if the hired hands see him? That was going to be the most problematic part of this situation. Shepard had no illusions about what the general public’s reaction would be to proof of alien life, and it wouldn’t be pretty. These days people had a hard enough time dealing with people of different colors, let alone an entirely different species. She had heard of a place in Nevada called Area 51 that was rumored to have found a UFO and was into all sorts of experiments and research about aliens. If the authorities got wind of what had happened here, things could go south really quickly. But, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
There was no point in worrying about the future quite yet, though, so she shoved all her doubts aside and carried the tea out to the living room. Garrus had appropriated the coffee table for a workstation and the box he’d retrieved from the ship was disassembled and its guts spread over the dark wood. She offered him a cup and he took it, sniffing experimentally. He hummed appreciatively, but set the mug aside without tasting it. Maybe he doesn’t like people-food, she thought. In that case, she hoped he had rations or something in that sack of his.
Earth Angel part 5/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 11:24:40 UTC
Suddenly his left forearm lit up with bright orange light and Shepard nearly dropped her tea in surprise. It was some sort of translucent glove made of light with a screen that hovered in midair a few inches over the glowing gauntlet. Alien characters scrolled down the display and Garrus’ fingers danced over the row of buttons on his arm (they weren’t really buttons at all, though-more like he passed his talons through the orange-outlined pictures of buttons to activate them), then he waved his hand over two tiny circular things on the table. When he was done, the glove disappeared and he held up the tiny devices and looked at her, pointing first to them and then to the side of his head. Shepard shook her head, confused, and Garrus sighed. He went over and knelt down next to her, impossibly close, and her heart started trip-hammering away in her chest. In the bright light of her living room he was even more formidable and she was a little nervous about having him so close to her, no matter how sure she was that he meant her no harm. Garrus reached out slowly, giving her plenty of opportunity to run away, and when she didn’t he brushed her hair away from her ear and with great care pressed one of the tiny metallic circles onto the inside of her tragus. She was struck by how warm he was; she could feel the heat radiating against her face. He turned her head so he could do the same thing on the other side, then the orange glove appeared on his arm again and he waved it in front of her face.
“Can you hear me now?” he asked, and Shepard nearly fell off the couch in shock. A huge grin broke out on her face.
“Oh my god, I can understand you!” she replied and she had to fight the urge to let out an ecstatic whoop.
“Those things in your ears are translators. They’re harmless, don’t worry.” He went back to his spot on the couch and leaned back with a smile. “So, now that we can actually speak to each other, do you have any questions for me?”
“Only about a zillion.” Her mind was whirling with the possibilities; how many chances like this was she going to get in a lifetime? “Okay, um . . . well, I guess we should start with how you got here.”
“Well,” he drawled with a playful smirk, “I’d have thought my ship would have made that pretty obvious.”
Shepard gaped at him for half a second before busting out laughing. “Oh, heaven help us,” she managed to say between attempts to catch her breath, “it’s the invasion of the smart-asses!” Garrus chuckled and looked thoroughly pleased with himself for finally dispelling the last of the tension between them. “I suppose I should have asked why you’re here,” she said when she’d calmed down.
“Well, what happens most of the time when a species becomes technologically advanced enough to begin developing the means for space travel is that species is then monitored by my people and by the other races in the galactic Council. Keeping tabs, gathering intel, making sure we know as much as we can before first contact. I was here to repair a beacon in the area that had malfunctioned, but something in the engines shorted out and I crashed. Luckily I was at a low altitude when the malfunction occurred or else I’d have been nothing but a crater.”
“Hang on, there’s a galactic Council? How many other races are there?” Shepard was practically bouncing up and down with all the questions she wanted to bombard him with. Christmas had come early this year in the Shepard house.
Earth Angel part 6/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 12:39:05 UTC
A/N--According to Wikipedia, X Minus 1 was a sci fi radio show broadcast by NBC that aired from 1955 until 1958. __________
Garrus called up the glowing device on his arm and fiddled with it while he spoke. “The galactic Council is made up of representatives from each member species; the asari, the salarians, and the turians. The turians are my people.” An accompanying image popped up on the floating display as he listed the names of the Council member races-a beautiful blue-skinned woman with a graceful sweep of what looked like tentacles on her head; a flat-faced creature with wide eyes that looked vaguely amphibious; and an alien that resembled Garrus except for its mandibles, which were a little wider, and its facial tattoos, which were white and covered more of its face. She hadn’t taken the time to look at Garrus’ blue markings before but now she studied them intently, wondering if they were merely ornamental or if they meant something more. “There are other races,” he continued, “but those three are the main governing body. The Earth equivalent that you would be familiar with is your state and federal Congress. Each species governs itself, but when it comes to matters of galactic cooperation the Council steps in.”
“This is . . . amazing,” Shepard said, waving her empty mug around. “I mean, yesterday I was listening to ‘X Minus 1’, and now there’s an alien in my living room. It’s a little much to take in.”
“Honestly, you’re handling this a lot better than I could have expected. Most people would have shot me on sight or fainted, but you made me tea.” He smiled at her again in that very toothy way of his, and she couldn’t help but smile back. Damn if she wasn’t really enjoying his company; his melodious drawl was a balm to her ears and he had a relaxed manner about him that put her at ease.
“Hey, aren’t you worried about telling me all this stuff? Sharing galactic secrets and all that jazz?”
“Not really. It’s not like you could do anything about it anyway; your people haven’t even made it to your moon yet, let alone anywhere near the Citadel.” He propped his elbows on his knees and started working on the array of electronics spread out on the coffee table. The disparity between the foreign technology and the cabbage rose patterned domesticity of her living room was striking.
“What is that thing, anyway?”
“It’s supposed to transmit my location back to the main ship, but it’s damaged. Not irreparable, but it’s going to take some time to get it running again.”
“Won’t they worry if you fall out of radio contact?”
“The ship does a scan of all maintenance vessels but they were expecting to lose contact with me at least momentarily while I repaired the beacon. They’ll send someone to look for me after two days, but I’m about two hundred miles out from where I’m supposed to be.”
She considered the implications of this for a moment. “Anything I can do?”
“Not really. It doesn’t look bad, but I need to get back to the ship for parts so I can fix the transmitter.”
“We can go out in the morning; I was thinking we could put it in the barn for now until we can figure out what to do with it.”
He looked up at her then and the look in his eyes was soft and unreadable. “That’s a good idea, keep it away from prying eyes.” He regarded her thoughtfully and she tried not to fidget under his scrutiny. “Why do you want to help me?”
Earth Angel part 7/?
anonymous
August 31 2012, 15:23:26 UTC
Shepard stared silently into her tea as if it could give her an answer that wouldn’t sound overly sentimental. “I spent a lot of time as a kid staring up at the stars, wondering if we were all alone in the universe. Now that I know we’re not, I’m going to get as much out of the experience as I can. It’s not like humans are going to master space travel in my lifetime; when am I gonna get another chance like this?” She looked up at him and gave him a small smile. “Besides, you seem like one of the good guys. Anything I can do to help out, just name it.”
“Just being good company is enough.” He cocked a grin at her before returning to his work. “Now it’s my turn to ask some questions.”
They talked long into the night, learning about each other. She discovered he was a recon scout with the turian military, that his favorite movie was called "The Indomitable" about the turian role in the krogan rebellions (she tried to follow along, but she might as well have taken out her translator for all the sense he made; it was fun listening to him talk about it, though), and that the tattoos on his face were actually Vakarian family clan markings. He asked her about the farm and what they grew there, what kind of music she liked, the state of the world now that the war was well and truly over. With only a few hours to go before dawn, they fell into a companionable silence. It wasn’t until Garrus heard her breathing deep and rhythmically that he realized she had fallen asleep, her hair fanned out behind her on a throw pillow and her bare feet tucked up on the couch. He set down the transmitter and took the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch, shook it out, and put it over her. She stirred just long enough to pull it up under her chin and burrow into the pillow before going still again.
He sat carefully on the edge of the coffee table and watched her sleep, asking himself for the hundredth time that night what the hell he thought he was doing. Interaction with land-bound species was strictly forbidden and if anyone found out he was actually in a human’s house and that he’d loaned her his spare translator he would be in deep shit. These were extenuating circumstances, though, and he thought he could explain it away to his CO; the name Vakarian still carried some weight and he was well-respected among his fellow soldiers. The thing was, if he was being completely honest, there was something inherently compelling about this unassuming human and he found himself drawn to her. He couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet.
When humans had first been discovered, they were still a relatively primitive people. However, in the past century alone they had gone from horse and buggy transport to dogfighting over the Pacific. It was truly astonishing how far they’d come in just one of their lifetimes. The human race was fascinating to observe; they were the most varied species anyone had ever come in contact with. Everyone who went Earth-side had a primer on basic human behavior and physiology that they were expected to know backward and forward, but Garrus had taken it upon himself to look deeper into the emergent species’ culture. They had the blood thirst of the krogan, the insatiable curiosity of the salarians, the honor and discipline of the turians, and the appreciation for beauty of the asari. They were capable of horrible things, like what happened during their Great War over a decade ago, but they also had the capacity for boundless compassion.
“Oh, hell,” she swore, tugging a robe on over her short cotton nightgown. At the door she put on an old pair of brown leather work boots and grabbed the shotgun and a flashlight from the foyer closet. After cracking it open to see that it was loaded and ready, she ventured out into the cool night air. The ground mist curled around her legs and parted in smoky waves behind her as she made her way over the dew-covered grass toward the woods that edged her property. Autumn came late to this part of the country and she spared a passing thought for the harvest and the money she’d have to shell out to the hired hands soon. She plunged into the shadows of the tall oaks and maples and waded through the undergrowth, heading toward the flickering orange light of a fire a few dozen yards up ahead. She held the shotgun by her hip, hoping she wouldn’t have to use it.
When she reached the source of the fire, at first her mind couldn’t make heads or tails of it. Slowly, though, the shapes started to coalesce into something that made even less sense. There was a large structure that gleamed in the shaky beam of her flashlight; it was maybe fifteen feet high and stuck out of the ground at about a 45 degree angle. Behind and to the left of the strange metal thing was a long path of destruction-uprooted saplings, broken branches, a raw deep furrow carved in the forest floor. It was nothing short of a miracle that the thing hadn’t crashed into a tree.
Wait, crashed? Was that what this was, a wrecked plane? It certainly didn’t look like any kind of plane she’d ever seen before; the hull (if that’s what it was) was curved strangely and looked like something out of a science fiction movie. Shepard went around to what she figured was the front and saw that the structure was hanging open and askew on twisted hinges. She trained the beam of her flashlight into the shadowy interior and had to bite back a scream at what she saw there.
Whatever the thing was, it definitely wasn’t human. It was gray and covered in skin (for lack of a better word) that had a slightly metallic gleam to it. Its head lolled to one side and she could just see the long wicked-looking spikes that stuck straight off the back of its head. There was a blue glowing eyepatch-thing covering one eye and what might have been pincers like an insect on either side of its mouth. Everything from the neck down was covered in thick blue metal armor. By all rights, it should have scared the living hell out of her but she found herself creeping closer, her heart pounding, her mouth dry as a bone. She crouched down to get a better look, certain that it had been killed in the crash. For all the features that absolutely screamed alien, there was no doubt it was humanoid in shape.
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Shepard had unconsciously leaned forward and braced her hand against the smooth metal of the ship’s hull, mere feet away from the alien, when its eyes flew open and it gasped. She flung herself backward too fast and overbalanced, landing on her butt and scrambling back with the shotgun clamped in her white-knuckled fist. The alien started to climb out of the cockpit and she saw how big it was, all hard edges and metal over its tall predatory form. Shepard’s retreat was stopped by a tree and she pressed her back into it, aiming her shotgun at the emerging alien.
It took a few seconds to check itself over for major injuries and she shifted the gun a little higher. Its head whipped around at the movement and its blazing blue eyes locked on her, taking in both her and the gun in one quick glance. Shepard was amazed when it slowly raised its hands and started making the strangest noises she had ever heard-chirruping sounds of various tones and pitches, clicking with its pincer-things, guttural growls and long vowel sounds interspersed with trilling, and its voice was laced with a deep underlying sub-harmonic. Shepard realized after a few seconds that it was trying to talk to her. The alien stayed well back from her, keeping its hands up where she could see them, and the bass notes in its voice were strangely soothing. There was something in it eyes, too . . . something gentle and completely at odds with its menacing outward appearance.
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” she said, very proud of herself for keeping her voice steady and even.
The alien sighed rolled its eyes up as if to ask the sky what to do. It was such a . . . human thing to do that she started to let down her guard in spite of the voice in the back of her head insisting that the thing was going to kill and eat her at any moment. It pointed to its chest and said, enunciating carefully, “Garrus.” At least she thought that was what it said; the way it said it was ‘Guh-click-arrus’ with a soft click of its mandibles.
Shepard pointed at him, her hand trembling only slightly, and repeated him (she was pretty sure it was a him; there was something universally masculine about him). “Garrus.” He nodded and his pincers flared out to reveal a wicked set of pointed teeth. Oh my god, is he smiling at me? She touched her chest and said, “Jane Shepard.”
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“Close enough, big guy.” She stood up, brushing the worst of the dirt off her butt (lamenting the stains; she’d have to soak the robe forever to get them out). Garrus dropped his hands to his sides and relaxed a bit; it was clear he still didn’t really know what to do when confronted with small armed humans in the woods at night. Well, tonight was definitely a night for firsts. He gestured to his ship and tried to convey a question to her and she nodded, not entirely sure what she was giving him permission to do. He bent over the open cockpit and rummaged around for a minute, taking out small packages of unrecognizable stuff and making a small pile of salvage at his feet. He took out a small oblong metal box with glowing symbols on it and turned it over in his hands, sighing dejectedly.
The last thing he drew out of the cockpit gave her pause-the rifle was huge and sleek, the matte surface painted with strange symbols along the side. Her new buddy attached it to his back and began packing the pile of stuff into a gunny sack. He slung the strap over his shoulder and smiled at her before waving and heading off into the woods.
“Hey! No, wait!” Shepard called and he turned back around, a question in his eyes. “Um, you could come with me.” She pointed to him, then herself, then off toward her house. Garrus looked surprised, but after a few moments’ consideration he gestured in the direction she was pointing. Lead the way. They walked together, still maintaining a little more distance than necessary, out of the woods and the alien beside her chirruped when he saw her house in the middle of the well-kept yard.
Jane Shepard, you’re insane. You’re not seriously considering bringing a creature from another planet that looks made to rip people apart to stay in your house, are you? No, the answered the small voice of reason that still managed to make itself heard even after all she’d done over the years to silence it. No, she was not considering it-she had already decided. Maybe it was her fascination with the unknown, or the thrill of meeting a real live alien, or some death wish she didn’t know she had, but she had to admit that it was at least partially because his blue eyes were so expressive and calm. He didn’t seem like he wanted to hurt her and her instincts told her that this alien, no matter what he looked like, was probably not intent on a hostile invasion.
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http://i9.photobucket.com/albums/a69/Velasa/Bribes%20for%20the%20Kmeme/50sawesomesauceShep.jpg
Also, her brother John being there? Awesome. And Garrus going along with it in a thoroughly why-the-hell-not attitude? Awesome. Stalking this.
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Keep it up, you're doing great! I love it.
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While the Shepard homestead was firmly in the Virginia countryside, it was close enough to Richmond for them to have electricity; a luxury not many farm houses had yet further out from the city. She turned on the lamps in the living room, the shadows retreating into the corners of the high ceilings and pooled under the furniture. There were two couches facing each other with a coffee table in between, two chairs flanking the wide doorway, a bookcase full to overflowing with paperbacks and comic books, and a curio cabinet with a set of nice china dishes from her mother. She led Garrus into the room and he sat down on the couch, dropping the gunny sack on the floor next to him. Shepard carried the bucket of water into the kitchen and fired up the stove to boil some water for tea. As she set about the mundane task of fetching mugs and teabags, her mind began to supply her with all the reasons she absolutely should not have a god damned space alien in her house.
That crash was loud enough to wake you out of a dead sleep, surely someone must have heard it? There wasn’t another house for two miles in any direction; any sound that managed to carry that far could easily be explained away as thunder or something.
What are you going to do about the flaming space ship in the woods? Well, first of all the fire had gone out by the time they’d left it, and actually that was the easy part of this little adventure. She could go out in the morning and tow it into the barn, cover it with a tarp, and it would blend right in with the scenery. Unless someone got curious, it would look like just another covered piece of machinery.
What if the police try to shut down the still again and see him? What if the hired hands see him? That was going to be the most problematic part of this situation. Shepard had no illusions about what the general public’s reaction would be to proof of alien life, and it wouldn’t be pretty. These days people had a hard enough time dealing with people of different colors, let alone an entirely different species. She had heard of a place in Nevada called Area 51 that was rumored to have found a UFO and was into all sorts of experiments and research about aliens. If the authorities got wind of what had happened here, things could go south really quickly. But, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.
There was no point in worrying about the future quite yet, though, so she shoved all her doubts aside and carried the tea out to the living room. Garrus had appropriated the coffee table for a workstation and the box he’d retrieved from the ship was disassembled and its guts spread over the dark wood. She offered him a cup and he took it, sniffing experimentally. He hummed appreciatively, but set the mug aside without tasting it. Maybe he doesn’t like people-food, she thought. In that case, she hoped he had rations or something in that sack of his.
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“Can you hear me now?” he asked, and Shepard nearly fell off the couch in shock. A huge grin broke out on her face.
“Oh my god, I can understand you!” she replied and she had to fight the urge to let out an ecstatic whoop.
“Those things in your ears are translators. They’re harmless, don’t worry.” He went back to his spot on the couch and leaned back with a smile. “So, now that we can actually speak to each other, do you have any questions for me?”
“Only about a zillion.” Her mind was whirling with the possibilities; how many chances like this was she going to get in a lifetime? “Okay, um . . . well, I guess we should start with how you got here.”
“Well,” he drawled with a playful smirk, “I’d have thought my ship would have made that pretty obvious.”
Shepard gaped at him for half a second before busting out laughing. “Oh, heaven help us,” she managed to say between attempts to catch her breath, “it’s the invasion of the smart-asses!” Garrus chuckled and looked thoroughly pleased with himself for finally dispelling the last of the tension between them. “I suppose I should have asked why you’re here,” she said when she’d calmed down.
“Well, what happens most of the time when a species becomes technologically advanced enough to begin developing the means for space travel is that species is then monitored by my people and by the other races in the galactic Council. Keeping tabs, gathering intel, making sure we know as much as we can before first contact. I was here to repair a beacon in the area that had malfunctioned, but something in the engines shorted out and I crashed. Luckily I was at a low altitude when the malfunction occurred or else I’d have been nothing but a crater.”
“Hang on, there’s a galactic Council? How many other races are there?” Shepard was practically bouncing up and down with all the questions she wanted to bombard him with. Christmas had come early this year in the Shepard house.
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__________
Garrus called up the glowing device on his arm and fiddled with it while he spoke. “The galactic Council is made up of representatives from each member species; the asari, the salarians, and the turians. The turians are my people.” An accompanying image popped up on the floating display as he listed the names of the Council member races-a beautiful blue-skinned woman with a graceful sweep of what looked like tentacles on her head; a flat-faced creature with wide eyes that looked vaguely amphibious; and an alien that resembled Garrus except for its mandibles, which were a little wider, and its facial tattoos, which were white and covered more of its face. She hadn’t taken the time to look at Garrus’ blue markings before but now she studied them intently, wondering if they were merely ornamental or if they meant something more.
“There are other races,” he continued, “but those three are the main governing body. The Earth equivalent that you would be familiar with is your state and federal Congress. Each species governs itself, but when it comes to matters of galactic cooperation the Council steps in.”
“This is . . . amazing,” Shepard said, waving her empty mug around. “I mean, yesterday I was listening to ‘X Minus 1’, and now there’s an alien in my living room. It’s a little much to take in.”
“Honestly, you’re handling this a lot better than I could have expected. Most people would have shot me on sight or fainted, but you made me tea.” He smiled at her again in that very toothy way of his, and she couldn’t help but smile back. Damn if she wasn’t really enjoying his company; his melodious drawl was a balm to her ears and he had a relaxed manner about him that put her at ease.
“Hey, aren’t you worried about telling me all this stuff? Sharing galactic secrets and all that jazz?”
“Not really. It’s not like you could do anything about it anyway; your people haven’t even made it to your moon yet, let alone anywhere near the Citadel.” He propped his elbows on his knees and started working on the array of electronics spread out on the coffee table. The disparity between the foreign technology and the cabbage rose patterned domesticity of her living room was striking.
“What is that thing, anyway?”
“It’s supposed to transmit my location back to the main ship, but it’s damaged. Not irreparable, but it’s going to take some time to get it running again.”
“Won’t they worry if you fall out of radio contact?”
“The ship does a scan of all maintenance vessels but they were expecting to lose contact with me at least momentarily while I repaired the beacon. They’ll send someone to look for me after two days, but I’m about two hundred miles out from where I’m supposed to be.”
She considered the implications of this for a moment. “Anything I can do?”
“Not really. It doesn’t look bad, but I need to get back to the ship for parts so I can fix the transmitter.”
“We can go out in the morning; I was thinking we could put it in the barn for now until we can figure out what to do with it.”
He looked up at her then and the look in his eyes was soft and unreadable. “That’s a good idea, keep it away from prying eyes.” He regarded her thoughtfully and she tried not to fidget under his scrutiny. “Why do you want to help me?”
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Love it so far, can't wait for more!
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“Just being good company is enough.” He cocked a grin at her before returning to his work. “Now it’s my turn to ask some questions.”
They talked long into the night, learning about each other. She discovered he was a recon scout with the turian military, that his favorite movie was called "The Indomitable" about the turian role in the krogan rebellions (she tried to follow along, but she might as well have taken out her translator for all the sense he made; it was fun listening to him talk about it, though), and that the tattoos on his face were actually Vakarian family clan markings. He asked her about the farm and what they grew there, what kind of music she liked, the state of the world now that the war was well and truly over. With only a few hours to go before dawn, they fell into a companionable silence. It wasn’t until Garrus heard her breathing deep and rhythmically that he realized she had fallen asleep, her hair fanned out behind her on a throw pillow and her bare feet tucked up on the couch. He set down the transmitter and took the blanket that was draped over the back of the couch, shook it out, and put it over her. She stirred just long enough to pull it up under her chin and burrow into the pillow before going still again.
He sat carefully on the edge of the coffee table and watched her sleep, asking himself for the hundredth time that night what the hell he thought he was doing. Interaction with land-bound species was strictly forbidden and if anyone found out he was actually in a human’s house and that he’d loaned her his spare translator he would be in deep shit. These were extenuating circumstances, though, and he thought he could explain it away to his CO; the name Vakarian still carried some weight and he was well-respected among his fellow soldiers. The thing was, if he was being completely honest, there was something inherently compelling about this unassuming human and he found himself drawn to her. He couldn’t bring himself to leave just yet.
When humans had first been discovered, they were still a relatively primitive people. However, in the past century alone they had gone from horse and buggy transport to dogfighting over the Pacific. It was truly astonishing how far they’d come in just one of their lifetimes. The human race was fascinating to observe; they were the most varied species anyone had ever come in contact with. Everyone who went Earth-side had a primer on basic human behavior and physiology that they were expected to know backward and forward, but Garrus had taken it upon himself to look deeper into the emergent species’ culture. They had the blood thirst of the krogan, the insatiable curiosity of the salarians, the honor and discipline of the turians, and the appreciation for beauty of the asari. They were capable of horrible things, like what happened during their Great War over a decade ago, but they also had the capacity for boundless compassion.
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