//------------------------------// // 6. Broken (April 2021) // Story: Mass Effect: Continuum // by Oceansama //------------------------------// Chapter 6: Broken (…………………………………………………………………………………………) After tempers had calmed down Shepard found she desired nothing more than a little alone time to reflect. Assuring Anderson that she would return shortly, she had wandered into the desert far enough to assure no one was within hearing distance. Causing a racket was not her intention, but with the way she was feeling, her pride forbade onlookers. The morning sun was casting its comforting warmth down upon the land, in a little while it would reach its unholy intensity. But for the moment everything seemed right with the world, but it made the mare wonder when she had last watched a natural sunrise. Sure she had noticed sunrises come and go, but had she actually ‘seen’ one? For some sudden and unexplained reason she’d a need to make up for this oversight. So, she sat down and watched. And watched. She had continued to watch until she felt something crawling down her face. Reaching up she realized that she’d been crying. She fought back against it, but once it’d started she couldn’t hold it back. The salty tears came unabated until both her cheeks were soaked and her hooves tried, and ultimately failed, to hold them in. Another mood swing, she tried to reason, but the excuse felt hollow. Things were spiraling out of control faster than she could adapt. She only felt grateful that no one else was around to see her like this. The Buffalo had called her a goddess, and she wanted to believe there had been a mistake, a misunderstanding somewhere. The Buffalo didn’t think so, Shepard had seen it in their eyes, they believed in her without question. They had faith in her, unquestionable, regardless of how hard she fought to dispel their optimistic notions. (…………………………………………………………………………………………) “I don’t know what your game is and I don’t care. Never call me that, ever!” Shepard’s pupils had shrunk to pinpricks, sunlight reflecting off her pointed incisors for all to see. “The vanguard of destruction?! The last creature that called itself that, I took great pleasure in blowing them all the way straight to hell. I am not them, never compare me to them!” The very atmosphere had become electric as her biotic power reached saturation. “I’m sorry,” Little Strong Heart seemed to melt into herself against Shepards wrath, “we meant no offense. Perhaps you’d prefer to be called princess like the others.” “No! That’s worse. I am not ‘the Shepard’ that you’ve been look for, I’m just a soldier. I do not want to be a part of your superstitious backwater nonsense. “The prophecy is clear,” The chief buffalo simply shook his head in disagreement. “the signs have come to pass. To deny your existence or address you below your station would be an unforgivable offense. You are ‘The Shepard’ and,” the Chief swept a hoof across his tribe, “we will guide you down the path of justice. However, there will be many who will try to sway you down a darker path.” “Why? How do I know you’re not just making this up? How do you know I’m the one? Because of my name? I could have said it was ‘Baron von Matlock vas Qwib Qwib of the Rebel Fleet’ and you could make the same claim. Where is the proof?” “Commander,” Anderson brought his full authority to his voice, “you need to settle down. I’m sure they have reason for it, and I am curious about how they know your name as well, but...” “No, Anderson, don’t you get it! This is a all a huge mistake!” Her eyes swam wildly about; she was pale, and drenched in a cold sweat. Neither Strong Heart nor Thunder Hooves took back their words. To everyone’s horror, Shepard began lifting her forelegs over her head. Biotic attacks were activated by a set of muscular movements and nerve impulses that were programmed into the amplifier implant’s minicomputer. Only the Admiral understood that this was a clear signal that Shepard was preparing a biotic charge. Yet, she hesitated and he understood why. It was at that critical moment that Anderson sprung into action. Decades of military instinct kick in and he charged at Shepard just as the power began to coalesce around her. He grabbed her right foreleg, and used his weight to force her down and breaking her concentration. His attack had caught the Commander completely off guard and the Admiral had either misjudged his use of force, or the flexibility of Shepard’s new pony body. The mare screamed in pain as her shoulder joint became dislocated with a brutal popping sound. Yet, the sickening noise did little to stop him as he shoved the pony into the ground, pinning her free foreleg with his other arm and resting his knee on the small of her back. Shepard’s muzzle hit the ground hard, giving her a bloody nose and leaving her winded. Through it all, she did not resist or fight back. “Stand down, Commander! That’s an order!” The Admiral had declared moments before he’d tackled his friend. His hands had begun to tingle and grow numb the moment he had touched her. The interruption of her biotic field had sent waves of energy coiling around his arms, negating his body’s mass and fluctuating gravity. The buffalos stared incredulous at the sight. The chief and his daughter were both terrified as they’d watched ‘The Shepard’ being thrown down and restrained. They felt compelled to intercede on her behalf, but stopped themselves as the flow of purple energy began to diminish. Even so Anderson did not relent on his grip. “As an officer and a representative of the Alliance, your behavior is unacceptable.” Anderson was shouting his words by this point. He didn’t want to do this, but Shepard’s behavior was out of control, and it made him both angry and deeply concerned. “I cannot overlook your poor lack of judgment and breach of protocol that has endangered multiple innocents and endangered a first contact situation. As such, you’ve left me no choice in the matter…” “Anderson…,” Shepard quietly begged, still struggling to escape his grasp despite the intense pain in her dislocated joint. A feeling of betrayal gripped her heart and yet she couldn’t help but empathize with her friend. “…until further notice, the use of your biotics is suspended…” “…please don’t do this!” She clamped her eyes shut, unable to observe the crowd that was privy to her public disgrace. She cried out again, twisting and kicking violently in an attempt to throw her attacker off her back. Ultimately her efforts were futile right from the start since she couldn’t bring herself to hurt her commanding officer, her teacher, her friend. The only family she had left. “…and are placed on disciplinary parole until further notice. Do you understand me, Commander?” The declaration from the Admiral struck like a hammer and for a moment Shepard was tempted to disobey. Resistance was the only option and she tried to throw her weight around, but her soul was not into it. “Shepard…please let it go, the fight is over.” He gently pleaded with her, relaxing his hold and hoping that she would not take advantage of it. He had known the Commander for well over a decade; before and after she’d been enrolled in the N7 program. She had a penchant for destruction and survival in the face of overwhelming odds, but right now she was all over the place emotionally. “Yes sir.” Her reply was so weak, so subdued, that Anderson feared that she’d finally been broken. He released his clutch on her and apprehensively took several steps back. Her ruined foreleg sat limply by her side she had draped her other good foreleg across her muzzle. It was an effort both to hide her shame and muffle the choking and strangled sounds of despair. Several of the buffalo dared to approach, Strong Heart included, with concern on their faces. “No, leave her alone,” Anderson cut them off with a wave of his hand, “just…give her some time.” He then gestured towards the Chief, indicating that he wished to speak to the lead buffalo in private. (…………………………………………………………………………………………) “I’m sorry about this,” the elderly human nodded sincerely, “Shepard isn’t normally like this. I’ve worked with her for years and…well,” he shifted his weight uneasily, “we’ve been through hell and back in the past couple of months, but…I think it’s finally started to get to her.” “Is there anything we can do to help?” Little Strong Heart felt tiny against the towering Human and, at the same time, felt reassurance in his presence. While the Admiral had busied himself into assuring the tiny female buffalo that the threat had passed, Little Strong Heart found herself obsessing over the violent red-mane mare. Early in her childhood she’d enjoyed listening to her father revel in the tales of the past; of stories from beyond the stars about legendary heroes of the past and prophecies concerning the future. Her favorites had been about ‘The Shepard’ and of her travels to spread friendship and harmony amongst the stars She had dreamed about standing by the goddess’ side as both a respected follower and moral guide. Now that the legend had come to life, Strong Heart only found herself stuck with a growing sense of doubt and worry. Heart had had so many ideas of what ‘The Shepard’ would be like, but it certainly wasn’t the broken pony who was crying in a place she believed no one was watching. Strong Heart laid herself down in the sand and carefully placed a leg over the Commander’s withers. The mare didn’t react to the touch, but did lean in for comfort. It was strange, Heart mused, giving comfort to one who, mere moments ago, had instilled so much primal level of fear. She examined the pony’s dislocated leg and decided she should do something about that. (…………………………………………………………………………………………) Sheriff Silver Star had finally managed to reach heaven, and that had come at the service end of the Salt Block bar. He was happily sitting there at the counter, a fresh mug of ale in his hoof and a content smile on his lips. It had been a very stressful night since the sudden shockwave had passed through town. Thankfully there had been only minor damage to homes and businesses; some injuries but only a thin assortment of sprains and bruises with no fatalities. Appleloosians were tough and molded to live through the tough times, it gave the Sheriff a proud feeling to serve and protect the town. Now all he wanted was to drink his worries into a foggy haze before passing out onto his bed. It was around half an hour from last call at the bar and he didn’t want to waste any more time. His deputy, Braeburn, was sitting beside him and already finished with his second mug. As the two peacekeepers paid for their drinks, turning to leave, a wild stallion interrupted by loudly bursting through the door and shouting into the establishment. “My office, burgled! Plundered! Purloined! Ha! Ha!...loins.” The newcomer said in a strained and raspy voice. The few bar patrons that were left turned to gawk at the newcomer with a mixture of curiosity and detached neutrality. Yet the more indifferent the patrons made themselves, the more obvious it became that they were leaning in to eavesdrop. The Sheriff had nearly lost the battle to suppress an irritated groan, blaming lady luck for all the misfortunes this night, and shame that new fuel had added itself to the fire in the form of the Sheriff’s least favorite pony. “One of these days, Snake Oil, I’ll expose you as the fraud you are.” The very attractive thought of expelling the good doctor by way of hog tying him to the underside of a locomotive gave the law pony a warm, ecstatic, feeling. It lasted until he was forced to turn to the doctor. He was met, muzzle to muzzle, directly into the doctor’s bloodshot eyes and maniacal grin. “By tha apple’s core! What in tha buckin’ world happened to ya?” Silver’s deep voice was thickly laced with concern as he examined the large bruise that circled the Doctor’s throat. The wide smile on Snake’s face only served to cause the Sheriff a moment of pause to wonder if the Doctor had finally lost it. “A most grievous tragedy has fallen upon me.” The Doctor rambled halfway between a shout and a shriek. “I was attacked, maimed, assaulted. Ha! Ha!…A…” “Finish that word an ah’ll brain ya!” The Sheriff cut in brutally. “We don’t take kindly to such language round these parts.” He growled, then took a moment to clear his throat and calmly compose himself. “Why don’t ya’ll start from tha beginnin’.” “Well, my good Sheriff, as it so happens I was out making a house call to a,” Snake Oil dramatically placed a foreleg against his brow, “terrified young mare in need of comforting and my ‘special medicine’ to calm her trembling soul.” He finished with an effeminate and dramatic gasp. “Special medicine, huh?” Deputy Braeburn deadpanned as he allowed his displeasure to show. “Why, yes,” from his vest pocket the good doctor extracted a sealed bottle, filled with a yellow-orange fluid, “Dr. Snake Oil’s Amazing, Fantastical, Splendiferous, Cure-All Brew. Patent Pending. Organically grown and comes in five different flavors. Why do you ask?” A few faint whispers of tobacco smoke wafted past while Dr. Oil posed, bottle in hoof, for a camera shot that wouldn’t come. He seemed completely oblivious to the deepening tension between him and the two law ponies. “Oh my,” Oil fanned himself, “dear sirs, do please get your minds out of the gopher hole as it was.” “Nothin’ like the kettle callin’ the tea pot black.” Braeburn added mockingly. Silver Star had to rub his temples to fend off an incoming migraine. “So ya’ll was sayin’?” “Twas mere moments ago that I had returned to my office to get more brew. It was there that a felon, most foul, pounced upon me like a cobra from the darkness. Alas, I struggled with all my might, but got the better of me.” He pointed to his neck bruise. “Ah see,” Braeburn had pulled out a notepad and pencil and was furiously taking notes, “do ya’ll have a description of your attacker?” “Neigh, it was from behind, I did not perceive the fiends true nature, but I believe it was a unicorn.” “Why do ya say that?” “Magical residue, my dear Deputy, and lots of it. Me’thinks they wasted it trying to pick a door that was unlocked the whole time. Just goes to show that a pony willing to steal from good, honest working businesses are of the lowest breed. A glass of water would have more common sense that these lowlifes.” “Very well,” the sheriff resigned himself to his fate and pulled his mug of cider closer, “let me finish my mug here then we’ll mosey on over and take a gander.” The Sheriff would not get the opportunity as the victimized stallion interrupted. “We cannot waste precious seconds!” The Doctor seemed to be teetering on the edge of outright hysterics. “My little black bag was taken from me. It was a personal gift from the Princess herself; very expensive.” “Just a moment, Sheriff.” Spoke the slick and refined voice of the bartender, Morton Saltworthy. He spared the Doctor a brief moment of sympathy before giving the counter a brief wipe down. “Ah hate ta drink and run, Mort. Just put tonight’s round on my tab.” The law pony wasted no more time, before chugging the liquid content of his mug. “Don’t worry about that, I know you’re good for it Sheriff. I think I might know who did it.” Morton never raised his voice. Still he’d grabbing the attention of the two police ponies and the Doctor. “You do?” Silver Star smiled, “That’s great! So we can wrap this thing up faster than’a frog on a hot rock!” “Hold on just a moment, I said I ‘think’ I might know who did it.” “Explain.” Morton quickly gave his audience a quick summary of the strange events from earlier in the night. He told them all about the strange mare that had entered his establishment. He made sure to cover everything about her appearance, the encounter with Old Salty, and the somewhat creepy conversation that had occurred afterwards. “Wait, so ya’ll are sayin’ there was a full grown mare about, oh, late twenties-early thirties who was also a blank flank?” Braeburn made it obvious he didn’t believe a whit of Mort’s story. “Preposterous, I’ve never heard of such tripe,” agreed the Doctor, “besides it was a unicorn that assaulted and insulted me, not an earth-pony. And if you seriously expect me to believe a simple blank flank mare took down the great and talented Doctor Snake Oil then you, my dear barkeep, must be sampling your own wares.” Morton, to his credit, took the criticism with a gentle stallion’s stride. “Hey! Gold Rush brothers!” Morton called out to four stallions that were busy playing poker on one of the tables in the corner, too far to make eavesdropping on the conversation a possibility. “Was there an adult mare with a red mane, green eyes, and a blank flank in here about an hour ago?” The Gold Rush brothers all turned as one and spoke in unison. “Yup.” “Darn toot’in.” “Indubitably.” “Lemon curry?” The last one replied in a Bitan accent. Like synchronized clockwork the four poker pony’s necks rotated back their game. “There, you see, I have witnesses. And don’t forget she might not be working alone.” (…………………………………………………………………………………………) Once the initial excitement had died down the buffalo had wasted no time in getting to work. In minutes they had erected enough teepees to shelter everyone and had dug a shallow pit in the center of the camp. The pit was filled with wood and encircled by a ring of stones for an eventual campfire, but the daylight hours were becoming so hot that a campfire was not necessary at this moment. Shepard was still unsure as to where they’d found the wood necessary to fuel the fire, but didn’t ask questions. She was more intent on rotating her relocated arm after Little Strong Heart had popped it back in. Her tears had dried up awhile ago; now she just felt drained, which made the small bowl of food placed before her very enticing. The bowl contained a kind of mushy brown slop that interestingly smelled like cornmeal and butter. The native buffalos had resorted to simply shoving their snouts into their respective bowls and gobbling the nutrients down with delightful abandon; creating a symphony of slurping and lip smacking noises. Shepard wasn’t impressed and thus she was challenged with a real problem of how to eat her portion without half of it ending up on her face. She may be a pony now, but that didn’t mean she had to act like a mindless animal. Meanwhile Admiral Anderson had the luxury of using two of his fingers together as an improvised spoon. “You lucky son of a bitch.” She cursed, looking enviously at his individual digits, then glared solemnly at her flat keratin stumps. “Why am I stuck with these clumsy dirty things?” As the buffalo ate, Chief Thunder had come along and seated himself between her and the Admiral. A move she was grateful since she wanted nothing to do with Anderson for the time being. So she simply sat there in silence while the others finished their meal. With very little to keep her idle mind busy she noticed that Strong Heart had begun to rub a salve of some kind between her hooves. Then the female buffalo began to massage Shepard’s aching right shoulder with the concoction. The commander wanted to object at the unwarranted contact, but it felt so good, and soothing, that she just accepted it for now. But she couldn’t help but wonder… “Why?” “Hmm?” Strong Heart looked up while she cleaned her hooves on a piece of fabric. “Why are you helping me? You don’t even really know me.” “Well…I…I…,” the buffalo cow stuttered, before taking a deep breath, and looking Shepard straight in the sockets, “all my life I’ve grown up listening in the stories that my father passed onto me. To be honest, sometimes I found it hard to believe in any of them. But,” she smiled, “you exist, and you did come from beyond the stars?” Heart asked with such genuine wonder that Shepard felt touched by it. “Yeah, I do. Not sure how Anderson and I ended up here, but,” she shrugged, “it is better than the alternatives.” “So there is truth to the stories, and why I do want to help you.” The buffalo concluded with the satisfaction of one confident in their own logic. The lanky calf dragged her own bowl of food towards her and stuck her muzzle in, but made the act of eating somehow elegant and graceful. “So,” the booming voice of the Chief carried over the entire camp, “Shepard you wanted to know how I learned your name.”