Darkness.

"I don't like this," said a helmeted soldier to another as they gazed at the Omega skyline.

"That's five times now, Jenkins," said the other, "and would you relax? Everything is still within the predetermined mission parameters."

"We're far too exposed here though, Roberts. And everyone on this rotten station is paranoid about us showing up again since General Oleg was ousted," said Jenkins, the crackling of voice modulation disguising any of the more subtle emotions he might have been feeling beneath his yellow visor.

It is from that infinite void from which all of us spring; and in time, it is where we shall return.

"I have movement on the perimeter," a third voice called out.

Jenkins straightened his posture, the soft glow of his biotics coated his hands as he back away from the guard railing. "What do you see, Nikolic?.

"Please say Turians with a death wish, Sandra," said Roberts with the smallest hint of humor in his voice, "that would make my day complete."

I have not yet been given to that endless expanse of darkness. But yet, I feel it in my mind.

"Negative, Harry," the female voice of Sandra Nikolic said to Roberts in reply, "looks like an Alliance special ops squad."

This caused Roberts to straighten his posture immediately. "Alliance? But they have no authority on Omega." He glanced up at the position the Nemesis infiltrator was no doubt looking though her scope, his incredulity in his expression shining through despite being covered up by his Engineer's helmet. "And running a black op here would more than likely be considered 'fucking with Aria', which is the last thing the System Alliance needs."

"Roberts?" asked Nikolic, "did I ask for a fucking dissertation about the potential political fallout that our enemies might find themselves in due to kicking our collective ass?"

"No ma'am."

"Then please shut the fuck up and get you annoying little turret into position, because I'm looking at N7 Destroyer armor; and between you, me, and our little dragon boy, I don't think he's wearing that because he wants to politely ask me out on a date."

"Timmy's not annoying!" "It's Dragoon, not Dragon, Sandra!" Both Roberts and Jenkins said simultaneously.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now would someone just like to make sure Slicing Beauty is ready for pickup? Transport'll be here in 5."

It is for that reason, that darkness inside of me, that these insects seek to protect me.

"Seriously, Roberts, Timmy?" asked a somewhat incredulous Jenkins as he activated his omni-tool. "What, are you gonna star in a children's extranet series called "Timmy the Turret and the Emancipated Engineer"?"

"Thanks for the tip," Roberts said sarcastically as he set down his portable turret, "but if you must know I call him Timmy in mock memory of our formerly alive but now exploded former, yet illustrious, leader."

Jenkins snorted softly, but the sound was still picked up by his helmet's comm. Tapping a few more of the buttons on the projected interface of his omni-tool, he the held it up to the stasis pod as he asked, "Still mad about the whole 'implanting indoctrination technology into all of our faces' thing, aren't you?"

"A little bit, yeah," the other man replied as the turret unfolded with a quirky 'now online' emanated from its tiny speaker. "Though I'm not sure if the Major's so-called 'visions' are all that great of a plan to follow, at least I have a choice about it this time."

"I wonder what Sandra's 'Slicing Princess' would choose?"

I am a wellspring, a reservoir from which to draw. Through this, these humans are able to drink minute traces of what is offered.

"Maybe you can ask her once this new tech gets rid of the weird after-effects a lot of our Phantoms have been suffering ever since the Crucible firing. In the meantime," Roberts raised his arm almost lazily, before firing a single bullet from his M-5 Phalanx. His aim was true, and the Alliance tech drone dissolved into a mess of static almost instantaneously, "we've got company."

But they do not fully comprehend. How can they? They are but rudimentary creatures.

"Target acquired," said Jenkins simply as he leapt towards the location of a crouched Alliance operative. His biotic lash ripped through the atmospheric particles of the station before latching themselves on the soon to be helpless enemy combatant. Ripping her from cover and towards him, he lifted a foot up as if to stomp the life from her, when a distinctive clink noise reached his auditory nerve.

Though they are but dust struggling against cosmic winds, they will endure, adapt, evolve. An admirable, if foolhardy quality of their species.

I feel my mind fumbling around in ignorance, incapable of understanding without prior knowledge of my own history.

"Grenade!" he shouted before running and diving for cover next to Roberts. The ensuing explosion knocked them both to the ground. Before they good get up, however, they were quickly surrounded by three armed Alliance troops; the Engineer from earlier, an N7 Destroyer, and a what looked to be a Project Phoenix ex-Cerberus operative. "Shit," was the only word he could muster.

Wait, am I one of them? But a speck upon the cosmos, denying my destiny that is in my genes?

"Commander, I've got the other one!" shouted what was undoubtedly the fourth member of the Alliance Special Ops squad. "You were right, she's a sniper."

No. I am not. For the briefest of moments, I felt the glory of unity with the cosmos. I shared my consciousness with the collective that was my sisters and myself. I beheld my destiny.

"Clarkson," said the N7 Destroyer, no doubt in the Cerberus foot-soldiers' minds that he was the commander, "find out what that thing they were transporting was. I wanna know what one of the remaining Cerberus factions not aligned with that crazy-ass Colonel risked coming to Omega for."

I, am Ascended, and none will stand in my way.

The briefest moment filled with the sound of screeching metal was all the time the Alliance operatives had before the metal hatch of the container was launched at the approaching Engineer. Taking advantage of the distraction, Jenkins used his biotics to launch the two male enemy soldiers over the side of the railing and onto the loading dock 80-some odd meters below.

A groan came from the now-open stasis pod, and a Phantom, if a more custom-tailored one, walked out on unsteady feet. She gripped one hand to her head, as if trying to rub away a headache, while the other gripped her blade in a vice-like grip. She finally noticed the two Cerberus operatives standing there, watching her, and took a shaky step forward. This however, might have been somewhat of a premature action, as her sense of balance was still a bit off.

Before she could fall, however, the last member of the Cerberus squad, the Nemesis Sandra, dropped down from above and moved quickly to support the stumbling biotic. "I've got you, princess, no need to rush."

"You saying I should get my face plastered on a cup along with Belle and Jasmine?" said the tired voice of the newly woken Phantom.

"Aw," Sandra said with a snicker, "I always knew you ninja girls had a sense of humor underneath all those ugly-ass microwaves baked into your faces; we just had to short-circuit the appliances first."

"Couldn't tell you for sure," the Phantom replied, "because joining my mind with every other Phantom has kinda fried my ability to remember much of anything."

"Shit," said Jenkins, "is that what happened to you gals when the Crucible fired?" At the Phantom's slight nod, he shook his head, "Imagine that must've been like being a part of Reaper must be like."

"I'm pretty sure that's exactly what was happening. The last thing I can remember was that I was going to 'stop anyone who stood in the way of my genetic destiny'."

"Let's let the lady rest for a few before grilling her on her experiences," said Sandra to the rest of her team, "Shuttle's here, and I don't want to keep the Major waiting too long."

"You sure about this intel, Commander?"

"Yes sir. Picked it up from one of Clarkson's bugs after the failure of the mission."

"Your mission was to give the Alliance new intel about the situation with a Cerberus remnant, Commander. You did that and more. I'm calling that a success. Hackett, out."

The image of the N7 marine flickered out, and a female voice spoke from behind Admiral Hackett. "He didn't capture the Cerberus team or the device they were transporting, and you're calling the mission a success? Just what kind of intel did he give you?"

"Admiral Shepard," Hackett acknowledged, the cybernetics that were now a part of him allowing him to make out her face in the dim light of the conference room. "If you must know, we just received intel, not only on one of the leaders of the Cerberus remnants, but also something even more important than that. We've got a recording of a Cerberus Phantom detailing her recollection of what happened after the Crucible fired."

Hannah Shepard's eyes widened, "I thought they went crazy if awoken, not able to talk in anything but gibberish and needing to be put in stasis due to their inability to care for themselves."

"It appears," Hackett said solemnly, "that Cerberus has found a way to fix that."

TBC

AN: This story premise just would not leave my brain. So, no promises on continuation, but I at the very least wanted to get out this first chapter.

Quick rundown, though, for those who are interested in the (game) history:

Spacer/Ruthless/Femshep/Adept

Romanced (kinda) Kaiden in ME1.

Saved Ashley and Kirrahe in ME1.

Romanced (fully) Garrus in ME2.

Mordin died in Collector Base, however Maelon's data saved.

Rachni queen Saved.

Council Saved.

Quarian-Geth peace.

Default Shep Appearance/Name.

Synthesis.