Disclaimer: Of the following, I only own the characters and their story. The universe in which it occurs is all Bioware.

Reading and reviewing is, as always, welcome.

Kennedy could feel droplets of sweat brimming along his closely shaven head, yet, he allowed the distraction no conscious thought; his fingertips dealt with matters more pressing. Dancing across the surface of his heavily modified Omni-Tool, they commanded a shift of the resonance frequency being emitted from the application strips he had attached to the seams of what he assumed was the access plate of the cylinder he knelt in front of.

He had been testing his theory about resonance manipulation as a means of access for specific, high grade forms of Prothean technology with the unused life support pods that Kirosuka had been forced to designate as non-critical to his studies and had been met with limited success, but, given that the initial reports submitted by Commander Shepard stated that this housing unit had been active upon his arrival on Ilos, yet was now no longer capable of producing a consistent holographic image, let alone communicate verbally, suggested that, well - That time for second guessing was simply not something he possessed.

Though Kennedy maintained the steady, patient rotation of the dial on his Omni-Tool, he was nonetheless frustrated by the thought of Kirosuka; the man had attempted to stonewall him, claiming that every single pod was necessary to his research, that opening one prematurely could irrevocably damage not only the contents, but the mechanism used for the maintenance of the vessel. All at risk to test an, quote, under researched and arbitrarily devised guesswork, unquote. Kennedy could feel his jaw tighten for the briefest of moments - He had only gone to Kirosuka as a perfunctory measure; an attempt to show respect for the Xenbiologist's purview and maintain good standing with his new colleagues - He, in all actuality, hadn't needed to ask permission, as his research was designated as preeminent. All other teams on Ilos were secondary to his project.

He could vaguely understand the aging man's irritation, however; William was unknown to him and likely viewed as an upstart, considering that a majority of his work was classified towards someone of Kirosuka's designation code. As well, it probably was not the easiest to be passed over for expedition lead in favor of a man forty seven years his junior and presumably not as experienced as he. William wouldn't know, though - It had never happened to him. He hadn't mentioned any of this to the man, however - Even though the Xenobiologist had an excellent mind, on the forefront of his field some twenty odd years past, he was nevertheless chosen not for his talent and familiarity with Prothean physiology, but rather, his loyalty to the Alliance and he needn't be reminded of it. Nonetheless, the suggestion that William not refine his hypothetical method on one of several thousand redundant systems that Kirosuka had at his disposal and risk his project with an untested mechanism was ludicrous at best; every life-support governance module that William had opened the hardcase of had been attached to an unoccupied pod and, even if the circuitry had been damaged in his fiddling, there were literally thousands of identical units to study. The disagreement had simply been a transparent means of marking territory; a tired exercise Kennedy had no patience for.

Nonetheless, the suggestion from Walder, the Military attache technologies 'expert', that the Embrey method was the safest means for opening computational Prothean governance modules was ludicrous, at best - It had irreparably damaged how many dozens of incredible finds for every one preserved? Still, the man had had the audacity to say that the narrow based circuit erosion was due entirely to the simple effects of longterm exposure. Had he not read T'Saldi's numerous publications on the Prothean technologies' resistance to age degradation, given appropriate power sources? Then again, he may have simply disregarded it. The issue with working in the black areas of Alliance Research was that human-centric thought was common place - Xeno originated thought was viewed with a consistent eye of skepticism, at least by the more militant minds. Regardless, he made sure that when he attempted to open this specific unit, he was alone - Entirely against regulation, but he still possessed the autonomy to make that happen, even if it involved a few selective scheduling choices, regarding his military counterpart.

All conflicting opinions aside, Kennedy had made the call; push forward with his theory and accept the risk of failure. The evidence was in his favor - he had witnessed it with nearly every test he had performed in the past three weeks. With an appropriately tuned resonance frequency, the safety panels that lie in place over all Prothean governance modules could potentially be opened without damaging the internal mechanisms - Something necessitated in his attempt to preserve and reactivate the device.

As he amplified the resonator into a higher strata of vibration, he could actually perceive the output as a mild tingling sensation emanating from the benign nodular formations that clung to the median nerve, just prior to the advent of his carpal tunnel. Quickly suppressing the imminent flare up he knew that was to come, Kennedy shifted the dial on his Omni the barest of degrees higher, dispelling the stimulation that was involuntarily provoking a biotic charge from his mutated nervous system. Giving himself a quick shake to dispel the sudden sense of vertigo that gripped him, Kennedy reached out a placed a hand on the casing of the stand he was attempting to open, bracing himself, as he cranked the resonator a mote higher. He could feel the faintest of vibrations through the casing, causing a frown to crease his thin features - Too much more and he risked damage to the circuitry.

He had already far exceeded the vibratory frequency used to disengage the locks along the paneling for the life-support modules, but he had suspected as much - A more intricate method, or perhaps…

Eyes narrowing, Kennedy slowly turned the resonator down until it clicked off with a humble cough, mind racing. The implacable increase of frequency was not getting him anywhere - As well, the panel lock hadn't differed in their spectro-analysis from the pod-modules. On a hunch, William pulled free an extra set of applicators from the pouch that sat at his feet. Noting the lack of ports for the extra applicators, he deftly stripped the insert ends of the cords with a handily produced plier, exposing the bare wire, before unplugging the original applicators and doing the same. With a quick twist, his tapered fingers bound the exposed, severed wiring together, prior to reattaching the insert, which he then reinstalled into the resonator - A moment later and it was rumbling to life, the now foursome of applicators reattached to strategic locations along the seams of the VI's access port. What he needed was not more power, rather, more surface area - If his supposition was correct, then the Prothean VI had adapted the access frequencies to the modules within this complex to a specific note - The difference between equipment was not in frequency, but rather, how it was applied. He simply needed to find the necessary surface area to simulate the means of application that the appropriate, working technologies would have used to open it. Unlike the life-support modules, this system was likely more sensitive and just used a different means, rather than ends, to gain access.

With his characteristic calm checking his rising sense of anticipation, William shifted the frequency back to its original, quiet level - He had to only wait for a moment before the panel rewarded him with a whispered shift; The seams, as they had on his previous tests, seemed to melt inwards, into the device in question, before the panel simply folded back into the surrounding metal, leaving a large opening in the side of the orange projector; Containing his sense of satisfaction, Kennedy managed to busy himself with removing the applicators, preventing their entanglement in the inner workings of the device.

It took only a moments observation for Kennedy to believe he had been proven wrong; though there had never been any recorded image of an operational Prothean VI core, he had seen enough degraded Prothean circuitry to understand that what he was looking at was irreparably damaged. The sphere that comprised the heart of the device was traced with thousands of spiderwebbing designs, circuitry, a majority of which were blackened - Burned out. Too much and too aged, rusted even, for it to have been influenced by his resonance manipulations, but -

Too old?

William's eyes narrowed as his mind began to race - This VI was operational little more than a month and a half ago and he saw no explanation as to how it could have reached such a condition of terminal decay and corrosion, given that it had been powered, that it still was powered.

Leaning forward, until his head had entered the cavity that the sphere had occupied, William activated the flashlight upon his Omni and probed closer to the core, until -

Movement.

Almost imperceptible, at first, but most definitely present. Miniature specs, drifting slowly across the surface of the sphere, their minuscule forms accompanied by the faintest of light. With a clinical calm, he fished a mono-visor from his pocket and placed it over his right eye, the adhesive surface making the slightest of suckling noises as it clamped to his pale skin, prior to his keying a series of quick, practiced commands into his Omni. The effect was immediate, as the light emanating from the tool died and the visor's readouts vanished, resolving into the magnified image being recorded from the tip of his Omni. With another quick turned of the radial, the image grew in clarity and focus, zooming in upon one of the dust-like motes, which resolved into - Something entirely unexpected.

Insectoid-like, the four-legged figure bore a single, bulbous sphere as its body, its limbs awkwardly wriggling its way across the surface of the core. The numerous theories that were rattling off in his never ceasing mind managed to stumble as he observed; the miniature, insectlike figure approached what appeared to be an inactive node of discolored metal, before another pair of limbs began to protrude from its 'mouth' - With a business-like precision, the miniature creature began to scrap away micro amounts of the material with its 'oral' limbs, seemingly ingesting the corroded stuffs, before it, apparently satiated, abandoned the task and turned its engorged body toward one of the few and, now more apparent, powered lines that ran along the surface of the sphere. Feeling an anxious impatience build up in his stomach, due to the glacial pace of the bloated bot, he nevertheless resolved himself to observe every movement of the being and was, after a time, rewarded - Upon reaching the faint, flickering light, the small bot, without regard for its observer, scuttled down the line to where it appeared to end, and began to regurgitate the material it had ingested, blocking the circuitry. Comprehension began to dawn and, within moments, the bot's oral limbs' frantic scratching managed to bridge some sort of damaged connection, allowing the apparent damaged end in the line to be restored, restoring the electrical flow between circuits.

The VI was cannibalizing itself to ensure its continued survival, yet the damage looked too great to over come. Advanced Prothean technology was capable of priority, long term maintenance. The weight of this revelation came crashing down upon him; this discovery, if properly utilized… The potential was staggering. He-

"P-Professor Kennedy?"

The voice was soft, timid - A younger analyst he had chosen for his team based purely on her two most recent papers on Prothean Nanochronology; He had been aware of her crippling lack of social capability, at the time, but trusted in her competence. He had been used to dealing with social anxiety for many years now - One of his chosen professions was in Acadamia, after all - but, he had never been confronted with this level of mingled fear, awe, and all consuming nervousness. Nevertheless, when he had chosen her, he had hoped that this expedition would have encouraged her to relax, somewhat - He supposed he was wrong on that account.

"I believe that we decided we were allowed to use each other's first name, Juno."

He replied in a polite, if reserved, tone, his revelatory exuberance firmly in check and restrained; His external calm hadn't flickered once since he began his attempts at opening Vigil's core and it wasn't going to start, now that he was interacting with others.

"Yes. Y-you have a call fromm, well- it's hard to, um…"

Her voice continued to buzz ineffectually for several moments in his ear prior to her finally managing,

"… It's, secured. Prriority channel two-ppoint-five-five."

This gave him pause.

"I'll be up in a minute."

He replied, mind suddenly torn between reveling in his discovery and the implication of the meaning of the incoming message. He understood the time-sensitive nature of handling the VI - Untold data could be lost if immediate action was not taken - But, he was also imminently aware of what that channel implied; His handler was calling and that meant something, somewhere, had gone very wrong.

Suppressing a twinge of regret as he pulled himself from the core, William made quick work of the short walk between the VI's projector and the elevator that lead to its plinth, sidestepping the numerous crates and cables that had been set up along the pathway since the expedition's habitation of Ilos had begun. The Alliance-Only team had leapt on the chance to get first access to the Prothean refuge, installing themselves with an incredible alacrity, but their brash push into the system was likely to have far ranging consequences with the Citadel, given their reluctance to condone entering Terminus Space - Nonetheless, someone in the Brass had been willing to take that risk and their mission was the result.

Cutting short his reflection, William made a difficult time of the slow elevator's ascent, foot yearning to beat a staccato on the floor; a childhood tic, one that he still struggled with when anxious. Suppressing it, he quickly made a distraction of copying the files his Omni-Tool had been recording of the last hour and sending the duplicates to Juno's personal computer. With the confirmation light flickering on, just as the lift came to a half, Kennedy looked upwards as the doors spread open, allowing the heated, humid air from the adjoining chamber to spill inwards, dispelling the chill from the VI's sequestered alcove. Stepping into the massive, once-waterlogged hall that the expedition had made their center of activity, Kennedy glanced upwards into the dizzying arches that comprised the distant ceiling, before he made towards the command tent, brushing open canvas flap that served as its door.

It was occupied.

"The hell do you think you're playing at, Kennedy?"

The military attache, Walder, was standing in front of the comm relay, his box-like jaw set. Kennedy noticed Juno on the other side of the tent, furtively keying strokes on her Omni-Tool - Her hands were shaking. Feeling his jaw tighten, Kennedy started towards the relay, moving to sidestep the soldier as he replied in as dismissive manner as possible,

"I haven't the time to deal with you, Walder-"

The military attache cut in front of Kennedy, stepping into his personal space. To anyone else, Kennedy was certain that this may have been an intimidating gesture; At one-point-eight meters tall, the men were of equal height, but where William was rapier thin and lithely built, a pedantic with no obvious capacity for violence, Walder was heavily muscled, an ex-field officer of considerable combat experience who projected an imposing aura with his combat fatigues, hardened expression and numerous facial scars. What the man didn't know was that Kennedy was still alive today due to the presumption that such appearances were relevant.

"'Deal with me?' You've manipulated the scheduling, proceeded without peer review, and endangered the VI with your unmitigated tampering - It doesn't matter who has a hard-on for you in R and D, you've overstepped you're-"

"I'm not obligated to report to you - You're lucky I have you assigned to anything more strenuous than the comm relay calibration."

"Fuck you. This is a military operation and I'm-'

"Here in a supervisory role, only, because it was decided that I needed someone to 'review' my actions. Now, if you're only intent here is to bluster, then I'd suggest removing yourself before I decide to do more than just have you transferred, for having made it a recreation to harass my staff."

The man hesitated for the briefest of moments, before allowing a bark of a laugh to escape him,

"Transfer me? You haven't the authority."

"My authority has no limitation."

They stared at one another through an excruciating silence, Walder's furrowed brow indicative of his furious attempt to discern whether or not he was serious and, if he was, whether or not the claim had any actual validity.

Kennedy's features didn't waver underneath the attache's scrutiny.

Finally, and without breaking his gaze with Kennedy until absolutely necessary, Walder forced his way past, shouldering the thinner man aside, before swatting the canvas flap open and vanishing.

Allowing a tightly held breath to escape him as a sigh of relief, Kennedy then turned his attention towards Juno, whom had abandoned her Omni in favor watching the altercation with a tightlipped anxiety.

"Are you well?"

She cleared her throat nervously before giving him a half nod.

Not waiting for more, Kennedy spoke,

"I apologize for him, but there are matters that require your immediate attention - I've forwarded the files detailing my work of the past hour; The resonance idea was right and I need you to go to Vigil's core to review my findings. Contact Dreyfus and Marconi and tell them to meet you there. Document whatever occurs and, if you can, attempt to preserve whatever circuitry is left. I'll meet you down there as soon as I can."

Seeing her eyes narrow and the anxiety that normally lurked about her vanish at the mention of an advance in the VI project reminded him of why he had chosen her for his team. Her fingers became a blur along the surface of her Omni-Tool, but before she moved to leave the tent, she spoke with a rich clarity to her normally constricted voice,

"What of Walder?"

"He'll be too busy lodging a complaint with the Brass to bother you."

She allowed herself the briefest of grins before she turned from him and departed, sending inquiries concerning the whereabouts of their two erstwhile team members. Suppressing the smallest of grins, Kennedy turned towards the comm relay and quickly keyed in his personal identification code. Prior to accepting the still-pending call, however, Kennedy keyed in an intricate subroutine on his Omni-Tool - It pulsed once, before showing a feedback of apparent gibberish scrolling across its display. Satisfied, Kennedy accepted the long overdue channel.

The static, at first blocking out any vestige of the communiqué, resolved itself rather quickly, before being subsumed into the gravely tones of his handler's voice.

"Longsword-Seven-Three-Delta."

Kennedy responded,

"Pariah-Two-Four-Wilco."

"Are we clean?"

"Clean. How've you been?"

"Well enough. I've heard that you're having trouble with Walder."

"More or less than what we expected. He's given me cause, so I'm going to transfer him - The Admiralty Board is just going to find someone else to spy on me with, but, it was my intention to get a week's worth of work done without having to worry about continuous 'supervision'."

"As much as I enjoy hearing your accounts of what is sure to be the start of a month long headache with the Board, I've news; I'm pulling you from the Vigil project. It looks like your gambit didn't pay off."

"Not entirely - Assuming that my team remains here, he won't be able to disrupt their work anymore than he already has."

"Their remaining depends on you."

Kennedy involuntarily arched a brow.

"They're civilians. What kind of an assignment is this, Hackett?"

"We're sending you into the Traverse, Will. This one… Well, this one is a bit different."

Apologies for the... I'unno. If the pacing is weird, or somesuch, let me know. I just pumped this out in two days, without much forethought and was more eager to just get it on the site, so quality may have suffered.

The next chapter may be awhile in coming - I am a rather fickle bitch when it comes to writing.