Adult-FanFiction.org : Games

The Translation in Blood	By : Mayamahal Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 19003 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Bioware or ANYTHING in the Mass Effect universe, including the characters therein. I make no money on this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
- 3
It was 2157, the sun was hot, and Lt. Hannah Shepard was praying her arm would just fall off.
At least then I could pretend I could sprint without falling over. Maybe find cover. Maybe not die of gangrene...
At least the pain kept away the guilt and the abject feeling of failure. There was that.
She struggled to concentrate on just putting one foot in front of the other, ignoring the prod of the pistol at her back, the resonant muttering that was beginning to put her teeth on edge. To make matters worse, the stupid little device fucking up her arm was still trying to work, interlaying her captor's vocals with gibberish and static. It was giving her a headache.
Hannah had only been on this rock two weeks before the Relay 314 incident, driving home her belief that it was just safer to live on a ship and travel the stars, staying one step ahead of the brass, getting out just a little bit further away.
Humans in general could adapt to most any climate, given time and resources, an increase in both upping the odds by quite a bit, but Hannah didn't have either to spare at the moment. She didn't know about the Turian behind her, but the sun was taking its toll. Or maybe her arm really was infected, and she had a fever.
Her hands were bound behind her back, bending her arms at the elbow, shoving that crappy piece of tech where nothing so rigid was supposed to go. She was fairly certain that was blood dripping down her fingers, blood making her uniform stick to her skin at the inside of her elbow.
She swears to this day that if he hadn't have shoved the barrel into the inside of that goddamn arm when she stumbled, none of this would have ever happened.
The woman skittered sideways and into the skeleton of some tree, ripping at her hair and scratching her unprotected face before she fell into and on to the ground. A stream of swear words poured from her lips as she landed on her injured side.
She was still swearing when the growling, trilling, bird-shaped bastard crouched over her to grip her shoulder and roll her over, the stark white lines of his features glowing in the shadow of his form, the suns setting behind him. The beta tech in her arm flared with sparks and heat this time, peppering his words with high-pitched feed back that had her gritting her teeth to keep from screaming.
She'd never been so thankful to pass out in her life, and that's including when she gave birth to her ten pound little girl.
ooo
It was dark and blessedly cool, a solid surface at her back and a breath of wind in her face.
Droplets of water were tapping lightly at her parched lips, her tongue darting out to taste them. The liquid succeeded in rousing her, forcing her to open her gritty eyes and stare into the face of the spikey-headed monster that had caught her.
She was too tired and sore to resist when he took her good arm and pressed a canteen into her hand, placing the opening at her lips and gesturing sharply for her to drink. Not needing to be told twice, Hannah took a few careful sips. It was then that she noticed her hands were free.
And her legs were not.
The cuffs had been adjusted to snap around her booted ankles, leaving her arms free of both bonds and, apparently, jacket. It felt good to be in her sleeveless under shirt, but her arm still hurt like hell and-
She jerked as something jabbed into the inside of her arm and the shitty piece of equipment that had gotten her into this mess to begin with. She whipped her head around to find the Turian pinning her wrist to the floor with one knee, his hand pressing her shoulder to the wall while his other pushed talons-
Talons?!
-into the seeping wound on the inside of her elbow. The flesh around it was swollen and red, unbearably tender and oozing liquids that looked distinctly unhealthy. He had removed the armored gloves she knew he sported earlier, using the sharpened tips of his talons to tease the implant from the muscle it was lodged in.
After watching for several nauseating moments by the light of some kind of synthetic torch, Hannah had to look away and close her eyes, concentrating on breathing through her nose. She probably shouldn't let him have the damn thing, but with it reacting as badly to her biology as it was, it would more like as not kill her if she kept it in any longer.
Besides, it was their technology. It wasn't like they'd learn anything new.
She felt the casing slide free, gasping as the searing ache faded and the static between her ears completely eased away. Her good hand pressed the canteen to her head, fighting the tears of relief that threatened to pour free.
The Turian gave a low whistle, holding the thing to the light as he turned it this way and that. When he turned to look back at her arm, he ran a finger across the angry flesh, voicing an inquiry that sounded like a cross being soft growls and rumbling syllables. His brow-bits rose at her, waiting for her reaction as he gave a nice, deliberate poke.
His question was fairly clear: Does it hurt when I do this?
She couldn't hide the sharp cry or the bodily jerk she gave, scowling at the creature as she heard the unmistakable ripple of a chuckle.
He was laughing at her.
She contemplated spitting in his water when he drew away and turned to his pack, rummaging about for something in the dark. She knew her glare probably meant nothing to him; he was massive, had a good two feet on her, and had taken her down without so much as a scratch on him.
Not that it stung her pride or anything.
She'd been in transit to the main part of the colony to test the new Turian translation device they'd attempted to adapt to human physiology, hopping a ride by surface shuttle to control central, when the Turians had come over the barricades in full force. Shot down and thrown over the main wall, Hannah had been the only survivor of the four in the vehicle, and under the cover of the assault, she'd run for her life in the wrong damn direction.
To be fair, she hadn't considered that the chunk of requisition office in the smoke had been thrown there, but it still wasn't an excuse. She'd let panic get the better of her, and if she hadn't, she'd have made it to cover inside of Alliance ground and would never have gotten captured.
She had run for almost two days, too far behind enemy lines to get back, and those damn Turians could see in the dark. So she'd made for an alternative route behind the battle-lines, hoping to get around the explosions and sneak in the back way. It would have taken a few more days, but as long as she'd found water, she'd be fine.
She hadn't counted on being followed. She'd left no trace or track of herself, she knew better than that, but she must have done something, left something, for him to follow, because one second she was high in a tree, belted in and dozing, and the next she had a three-fingered hand around her throat and a gun in her face.
She was brought back to the present with the touch of cool gel against her arm, bringing a hiss to her lips. The Turian field dressed her arm with surprising finesse despite his probable limited knowledge of her anatomy. Bandaged and somewhat cleaned up, he secured her arms behind her back, ignoring her wince of discomfort.
Then, with a glow that made her flinch, he accessed his holographic mobile interface and began to type away, before touching his ear and proceeding to speak.
From what Hannah gathered, the conversation didn't go very well. Despite the species barrier, some things still carried through; his posture was suddenly stiff, his tone sharp and distinctly angry. Someone wasn't getting their way.
When the communication ended, he turned to look at her, leaning against the cavern wall, dirty and disheveled and exhausted, she was sure. The mandibular protrusions on his face fluttered, almost agitated, like he was weighing a decision.
The cave he'd found was fairly secure, a shallow enclosure that was just deep enough to hide them from eyes and weather. The suns were just below the horizon, twilight long since fled before the purple velvet of night. Gazing through the cave opening, Hannah whistfully thought how beautiful it was, and how maybe she'd come back here and show it to her daughter ...
Bad, that's bad, Hannah, she thought abruptly, closing her eyes and thumping the back of her head against the stone wall.
She'd been warned about that, about serving in the military while being a mother. It wasn't that it made you a liability, but it was one more vulnerability to overcome. That love was something that surpassed orders and rank and honor; you'd do anything to make sure your child was safe. She tried instead to feel thankful that her little girl was light years from here, safe and sound and back on Earth.
With a deep breath, she pulled herself together, just in time to feel something brush her cheek.
She didn't mean to flinch as hard as she did, managing to lift her chin and look up at her captor as he drew his fingertips back to his face. Confusion made her frown, before she understood what he was looking at.
In her relapse of emotion, tears had slid down her cheeks. Not many, but enough to be noticed. He seemed ... interested by this. She didn't imagine Turians could cry, though he didn't seem surprised or shocked by their presence.
He voiced a question, a flurry of words and a tilt of his head. She made a face at him, then replied flatly:
"I don't understand you, you spikey-assed bird-thing. I don't knw why you bother when it's not like you can understand me eith-" And then she felt stupid.
Right. The translators.
Fuck me in the eye.
She must have been worse off than she thought. A slow inhale and she was back to her center, focusing on staying alive and being in the moment. Running five steps backwards without knowing where she was would only get her killed. And that couldn't happen.
She fixed the Turian with an angry glare, and grit out a question of her own.
"How long are we stuck here?"
He seemed to give her credit where credit it was due, in that he didn't regard her with suspicion or check her other arm for a working device. Instead, he pointed at the horizon and lifted one finger.
A whole day.
"Yey," she muttered. Just swell. "Where are you taking me?"
He pointed back towards the colony, arm steady and unerring.
She swore.
- 1
- 2
- 3
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Translation in Blood