Walked Amongst Giants

by Lyaksandra

Reprieve comes in the strangest of vessels. At least for Commander Alexandra Shepard.

For many years, I have lived my life roaming, helping others whenever and however I could. It is my way of keeping a connection to the most important person in my life. Helping others was his calling, so I have always been compelled to do it too.

It has been a peaceful and pleasant life. However, now that major trials are arising for Humanity to face, I must bid farewell to this life so I can stand up to the challenge once more. I shall honor his memory and keep it at my side.

-O-

Although The First Contact War was important, it was not as critical as other struggles humanity had seen. It never even reached earth before reaching its conclusion through a peaceful diplomatic arrangement. Assisting the war effort sporadically in earth's colonies was the most I had to do.

Then, the battle of The Citadel happened. It was all a blur, clouded under a veil of politics and branching agendas from those involved, so I did not have time to make myself truly useful. In contrast to The First Contact War, what happened at The Citadel was actually very relevant, because it heralded graver things to come.

The Geth, a sentient species of artificially intelligent beings created by the Quarians hundreds of years ago attacked The Citadel under the command of former Turian Spectre Saren Arterius. He mounted the attack from a gigantic space ship denominated Sovereign. The behemoth craft was a design like no other ever seen, or heard of.

The Citadel was saved but the politicians and their struggles to keep peace and balance within the barely held alliance of space-traveling species muddied the aftermath of the battle. They also had to save face, of course.

To someone already on the trail of these recent events, though, someone with my computer hacking expertise and tracking abilities, it was not hard to acquire more information than the public was entitled to.

There was indeed a grim future ahead of us. Commander Alexandra Shepard, a Spectre—the top special agents of the galactic council—and the most prominent figure in the defense of The Citadel had spoken of a sentient race of machines called Reapers. These Reapers would at some point sweep through the entire galaxy, harvesting all sentient life for no known purpose, and would leave utter annihilation in their wake. This task was carried about every fifty-thousand years and the time for their return was nigh.

The galactic council dismissed Commander Shepard's story regarding the return of these Reapers and their involvement in the attack to The Citadel. A cover-up story was forged to keep the masses at ease, as panic was certainly not an option. Complete dismissal of Shepard's report should not have been either.

I knew better, though. I knew someone like Shepard does not lie about a threat like this. People like herself do not seek fame and fortune. They are examples of what is called a hero.

Only one other person like her had I met in my life, someone committed to the cause of helping others to the point of self-sacrifice. They are natural leaders able to change the tide of a battle by means of inspiration and tactics, great strategists and warriors hell-bent on making the world a better place for those who cannot fight for themselves.

I had only met another one like her, but that was enough to place my trust in Alexandra Shepard.

When it happened, it was very hard to swallow the news. Commander Alexandra Shepard, first human Spectre, savior of The Citadel, was dead, her destiny unfulfilled. Back then, I thought a number of scenarios in my head on how to mount a defense against the Reapers. I had the tactical knowledge, the strategies, and I had the brains and the brawn to do it, but not the charisma, I was not a leader. I would have been unable to rally the people for such a task.

The Commander had died spaced, suffocated due to her suit rupturing and then burned when entering the atmosphere of a nearby planet after her ship, the Normandy, was shred to pieces by an unknown vessel.

The Normandy was an olive branch project between Turians and Humans, former enemies in The First Contact War. It was one of the most advanced frigates in the galaxy, and it had been destroyed in an instant under mysterious circumstances.

The threat to the galaxy was now looming closer, and the one person who knew the truth, the one person willing to do something about it, was dead.

Fortunately, humanity can sometimes see beyond their noses and is capable of great things, although mostly when faced with the edge of the precipice. Someone besides me knew how much Shepard was worth.

Apparently, Shepard's body had been recovered and it was undergoing the impossible feat of being resurrected. A pro-human extremist organization named Cerberus was at the helm of the project.

Indeed, someone else besides me knew how much Shepard was worth. Attempting to bring someone back from the dead does not only require immense resources, but faith also, both in the process and in the subject.

This faith was embodied in the name given to the project, Lazarus. A fitting name indeed, as this Lazarus was a man who died and was subsequently resurrected by the prophet and messiah of the human catholic religion, Jesus Christ.

When I learned of Cerberus' plan, I knew it was the time to get involved. I would infiltrate the Cerberus facility and ensure everything went well to the extent of my abilities. I had to ensure that despite the minimal chance of success, their plan was carried uneventfully. Otherwise, I would have to fall back to my own plans.

Everyone is entitled to a little hope, even me. This thought amuses me every time it crosses my mind.

After successfully infiltrating the Cerberus facility, I started working as a maintenance engineer.

I must say it was no easy task, even for a proficient infiltrator like me. Several months went by as I played my role and observed the seemingly endless work of the scientists from the sidelines.

One day, suddenly everyone in the facility seemed to be in a rush. Shepard's resurrection had been successful.

Once her body had been brought back to life, all the previously silent rooms and corridors became lively. Although recovering her mind was the only matter left, it was going to be no small feat by any standard.

Would Alexandra Shepard return as the person she used to be, or had Cerberus created a mindless zombie worth billions of credits?

If humans can indeed be miracle workers when they put their minds to it, I have to speculate about the reasons why do they tend to focus on the negative applications of their ingenuity.

-O-

It seems like Commander Shepard attracts trouble wherever she goes, even while being technically dead.

Just a few days before the project is complete, someone inside this facility decides to betray humanity by having Shepard killed—along with everyone else in the building, apparently.

The security mechs have been hacked. Every single unit is going about the facility murdering its former human charges. This is what people call irony.

It does not come as a surprise, though, as I am always expecting trouble. I always try to be prepared for any setbacks.

Walking to the terminal in the corridor, I take in the view from the windows at my sides. People are being murdered by gunfire and I can hear their screams as the bullets flew by. They are screaming for help, or for mercy, but none comes.

The security mechs are machines with simple computers programmed to perform straightforward tasks. They do not know mercy. They just perform their given task with thoughtless efficiency.

This mech model is a LOKI. They are humanoid in form, stand one point eighty meters tall, and their bodies are armored with a composite material painted in white. These unarmed, untrained scientists are no match for them. It is a massacre.

Blood stains the windows at my sides and the screams of people can be heard all over the place. It does not disturb me as it would others, though. I am familiar with scenes like this, so focusing on my data retrieval is not a problem.

The terminal I am accessing offers disturbing news. Not only have the security mechs been compromised, but the whole system, which leaves me unable to confirm Shepard's status.

As I move away from the terminal, the mechs finally turn their attention to me. Such is their simplicity that not all of them try to trace a path to my location and merely open fire. It is a fruitless endeavor, as the glass is reinforced, something I learned in the first days of my stay.

Nevertheless, I ready the pistol I recently acquired from a dead guard. The mechs are going to find their way to me at some point, and although they pose only a moderate threat, I must be prepared.

While I continue down the corridor, I contemplate the fact that at this point all losses are acceptable as long as Commander Shepard is safe. A thought creeps into my mind, demanding that I help anyone I can. However, that would be the worst course of action. Shepard's life is more important than anyone else's, including mine. The thought will have to stay creeping. I am sorry, John.

As the controls to the door at the end of the corridor come in range of my Omni-tool, I wave my hand and it grants me access. It is a good thing that I have been collecting security access codes since I began working here.

As the humming of the door recedes, indicating it has finished opening, a security mech on the other side turns to face me. It takes a fraction of a second to assess if I am friend or foe, so by the time it raises its rifle, a single shot from my pistol pierces the camera in its head.

Bullseye.

Now in possession of an assault rifle, I tuck the pistol in the waist of my pants. A secondary weapon is always useful.

The room I come into has two doors, one close to my left and another at the far right corner. This room looks the same as the corridor I just left, colorless and with no remarkable decorations. Cerberus is austere like that, and they seem to love the color of polished metal.

As I walk toward the door in the far end of the room, which is the one leading to Shepard, it opens to reveal a human female clad in black N7 operative armor.

I stop for a moment to assess this person. It is a human female in her early thirties, about 1.75 meters tall, with blonde disheveled hair grown close to her chin. Her eyes are a luminous hue of blue. Muscle mass seems above average but the armor does not allow me to determine that too accurately.

I decide that what I see is enough to identify this person as Commander Alexandra Shepard.

She does not look like much at first sight, although she does project an aura of leadership. While thinking of this, I approach her at a brisk pace. Her eyes observe me intently all the way, most likely analyzing me too.

"Alexandra Shepard, Commander in the alliance navy?" I ask.

Her eyes widen for a split second, most likely surprised at the fact that a complete stranger is addressing her by full name and rank. Maybe this was an incorrect approach given the circumstances, but there is no time to correct it.

"Uh huh," she answers. "And you are?"

"My name is…" I start my sentence but notice that for some reason Shepard lunges towards me. The door at my back produces its characteristic hum, and as I turn around to check what is coming through, I take a heavy hit on my back that drops me to the floor.

A security mech crosses the threshold, and after tackling me down, Shepard stands between it and me. She quickly raises her pistol and aims at the mech. She does not open fire, though, probably waiting to see if it is hostile.

Conversely, the mech is more eager to end this meeting and opens fire on Shepard with its assault rifle. She immediately turns her body to show her flank and begins sidestepping, all in a single motion. This effectively reduces the targeting area for the mech and forces it to adjust its aim.

Not bad at all.

Although the Commander has an active kinetic barrier in her armor capable of absorbing some of the projectiles, she does not waste time and fires back without hesitation. Four shots between the torso and head render the mech non-operational. It makes a stuttering sound, and surely enough it explodes after that.

I have witnessed that Shepard is indeed all the hero everyone imagines her to be. Before even knowing if the mech was hostile, she had already removed me from harm's way.

She turns and leans toward me, offering her hand. "Come with me if you want to live."

Whoa.

As she helps me stand up, I finish my introduction. "My name is Cameron."

"Well, Cameron, nice to meet you, and since you already know my name," Shepard says, raising an eyebrow, "I guess the introductions are over. So, I need to ask you some things real quick."

"Go ahead."

"What is your full name?"

What?!

I do not voice my surprise.

"Cameron Connor," I answer, and then smile. Every time I use his last name, something in me tells me that smiling is something I should do.

"Do you have any idea what the hell is going on here?" Shepard asks while motioning vaguely with her hand.

"This facility is under attack by an inside agent who has most likely hacked into the computer mainframe. Most systems, including the ones controlling the security mechs have been compromised and in some instances disrupted in order to prevent anyone from regaining control of the facility. It is likely an attempt to stop your resurrection and any consequent events branching from it."

"What?! Wait a minute!" Shepard's eyelids widen enough to show her irises fully, and this time they remain like that. "Resurrection?! What the hell do you mean? So, I died, I really died? I was not in a comma or anything, I really died!"

The Commander starts pacing, her heart rate elevating considerably, and she grabs her head with her hands. Apparently, I keep providing information in an incorrect manner.

"How long have I been out?" Shepard asks without looking at me.

"It has been two years, one month, two weeks, four days…"

"I get it! I get it! It's been two fucking years!"

Shepard begins pacing faster, her breathing becoming short and her heart rate accelerating even further. My response has made her very nervous. I wonder why humans ask things they actually do not want answered.

Seeing how disturbed she has become, and considering her health is likely delicate, I decide the best course of action is to take her mind out of this. Perhaps someone else in the facility has survived and can explain the recent events with more tact.

"Sorry Commander, I should not have been so blunt." I pause to see if I have her attention.

Shepard looks at me a moment after I apologize, so I go on. "We need to evacuate the premises, lest the attacker is successful in its endeavor." I place my hands on her shoulders. "I was an idiot for saying something like that so bluntly but we really need to go, someone wants you dead again." Subterfuge is a thing I can do well. One last touch and my mistake should be partially undone. I make my eyes tear up.

"Sorry kid," Shepard shakes her head and carefully takes my hands off her shoulders. "I shouldn't panic like that. You're right, the first thing is to get the hell out of here, questions later. Any idea where we need to go?"

Pointing toward the door directly in front of us, I start walking, but Shepard grabs my hand and starts dragging me behind her.

"I'm not letting a little girl take point in a place like this," she declares. Her heart rate is normalizing. She looks composed again, confident. Now she is focusing on something else.

Little girl... if only she knew.

We walk through various corridors and rooms, all very similar to one another. Cerberus and their austerity, and love for polished metal can be a tad over the top.

Shepard stops suddenly and turns to me, then requests the assault rifle I am carrying.

"Can you even lift that thing?" She says, a small smile playing on her lips.

I can dual wield an M-300 Claymore shotgun in one hand and an M-98 Widow sniper rifle in the other, a fact that is to remain secret for the time being. Smiling, I surrender the assault rifle. She grabs it and weights it, aiming to check the sights and poking around to verify everything is working. She is thorough and methodical, something I quite like.

We start walking again, Shepard towing me behind her.

As we approach yet another door, we hear gunshots. This makes the Commander retreat to a corner we previously turned. She presses me against the wall with her arm across my chest. John used to treat me like a human too, but he always knew what I am. He of course also knew that standing behind me is the best choice in a gunfight.

I no longer use the typical Terminator strategy of walking up to the front door while taking all the shots and firing back at every threat—mainly because there are no more parts to repair myself—but I am still the better choice for being on point, shielding and attacking.

In previous battles I managed to make myself a team leader, here I did not have time to devise anything past my engineering cover. The unexpected attack left me as a simple civilian. Admittedly, it is a refreshing change of pace, although one that will have to change in the near future.

As I think of all this, I am staring at Shepard's forearm pressed against my chest. Meanwhile, she is peeking around the corner, assessing the situation on the other side of the door.

After a few seconds, she turns her head towards me and sees me staring at her arm. "Oh god, I'm so sorry!"

She jerks her arm away and laughs nervously, most likely thinking I am bothered by her touching my simulated secondary sexual characteristics. Another mistake I will not correct, and not because it does not bother me, but because I do not want to be seen as the easy girl. High school taught me many lessons outside of the classroom.

Shepard puts her hand on my head and makes me get into a crouching position. Then, she motions with her head towards the door. "It seems rifle shots are coming from the far side of that room, and only one source seems to be responding with a pistol from this side. It's pretty safe to assume the loner is being attacked by mechs. I think we can get in the room with relatively low risk."

It is a correct assessment, to which I nod. I made it before her, but still, Shepard is good at this, especially for someone who just woke up from death.

Motioning for me to move follow, Shepard stalks toward the door. Once we are close enough, I open it.

We walk into the room and find a dark-skinned human male, who is also in the thirties age range. He is taking cover behind crates near the safety railing of the long overpass corridor we are standing on and is wearing a black, tight- fitting non-armored suit. It most likely relies entirely on a kinetic barrier for protection.

From the opposite side of the room, four security mechs are alternating bursts of fire to keep him pinned down. At the end of the overpass is the door we need to arrive to in order to escape the facility.

The dark skinned human notices us, and the mechs do too, some of them opening fire towards our position. As we run to the crates, he stands up to provide cover fire, downing one of the mechs in the process.

This human reacted immediately when the mechs shifted their attention to Shepard and me, I can already tell he is going to be useful.

We take cover behind the crates alongside the dark skinned human. The Commander's hand is back on my head, keeping me down. She is what people call a worrywart.

"What are you doing here?" The male asks, looking at Shepard. "I thought you were still a work in progress."

"Well, I'm trying to get away from this mess, that's what. As for your other question, someone woke me up over the intercom."

The male's lips tighten before he speaks. "Things must be worse than I thought if Miranda's got you running around. I'll fill you in, but first we need to get to the shuttle. Name's Jacob Taylor by the way."

"This is Cameron, and you seem to already know me," Shepard answers. "This is your place Jacob, so we'll follow."

"Okay, first step, let's finish off this metal bastards. I'm a biotic, so if you see an opening, let me know and I'll hit them with the good stuff."

Shepard looks at me saying, "Don't move kid." Then, she turns to Jacob once more. "On my signal, we pop up from opposite sides and focus fire the right one."

Only three security mechs do not pose a substantial threat, so I let them handle it. Fighting, worrying about me, this keeps Shepard focused and not thinking about her demise and resurrection.

When Shepard nods, she and Jacob spring out of cover nearly at the same time. The mechs are too late adjusting their aim at the two simultaneous targets. Several shots fly their way, destroying the intended mech.

Back in cover, Shepard addresses Jacob again. "I'm going to pop out, once they shoot at me, you do your stuff Jacob. We need to conserve ammo."

Jacob nods his assent and Shepard stands in the open, not moving even when the mechs open fire. Her kinetic barrier absorbs a few shots, and then one security mech gets pushed hard against the other by an invisible force. The force is strong enough to crush both mechs together and send them flying toward the wall, leaving a sizeable dent in it. After a loud crash, they make a stuttering sound and detonate.

Biotics, a set of skills that not long ago were fictional. They recently became a reality and the subject of much study, at least for humans, as the other races of the galaxy were already using them by the time humanity showed up. The Asari are particularly adept since they are inherently born with great biotic potential, and given their lifespans of about a thousand years, they have a long time to hone it.

Humans, though, rarely live past a hundred and fifty years and have to be infused with this ability. Nevertheless, they are very adaptable and fast learners, not to mention very keen of things that further their ability to wage war.

As Shepard and Jacob are making sure that all the mechs are done for good, the door behind the destroyed security mechs opens, revealing three more of them. They are most likely the ones that were tracking me back in that corridor before I bumped into Shepard.

Having an assault rifle, Shepard takes the appropriate action, firing in an arc and spraying the mechs in order to delay them and buy some time. Jacob fires a few random shots of his pistol too. Since it is a reflex action, it is not very effective at hitting any important points in the mechs.

When I see Jacob and Shepard's lower limbs flexing, indicating they are about to squat back into cover, I take my chance. I fire three shots from my pistol and they hit their intended targets squarely. With the cameras on each of the mechs' heads destroyed, this effectively terminates them. I hide behind the crates immediately after shooting.

The Commander peeks around the corner of the crate. "What the hell?" She exclaims. "What the hell happened...? Jacob? Can you see that? All the mechs are down."

Jacob too peeks over his side of the crate. "It seems you have a guardian angel Commander," he muses, turning to Shepard and grinning.

I prefer guardian Terminator, thank you. The comparison is a good analogy, though.

"Well, I guess we got some lucky shots there," Shepard remarks, looking at an indefinite spot on the other side of the room.

Jacob begins walking toward the door at the end of the corridor. "Ready to get the hell out of this place?" He says while motioning for us to follow.

As expected at this point, Shepard grabs my hand and drags me in tow behind her. "Come on kiddo, let's get out of here." She motions with her head towards the door, smiling.

Even if all of this attentiveness and protection makes for good memories, I am going to have to prove myself as a fighter soon.

Jacob's Omni-tool turns on as we approach the door. "Check, check, anyone on this frequency? Anybody still alive out there?" a most likely human male voice questions over the comm, quite alarmed.

"Wilson! This is Jacob, Shepard's here with me and we have another survivor from the staff. We just took out a wave of mechs over in D way."

"Shepard's alive? How the he—" This Wilson person makes an abrupt pause. A pause that tells me a lot more than he would like. "Never mind, you need to get her out of there. Get to the service tunnels and head for the network control room."

"Roger that, Wilson, stay on this frequency." Jacob acknowledges as he resumes walking again. When we reach the door, he waves his Omni-tool at the control to open it.

We walk through a long corridor with several turns. There are many doors on the sides, and since we pass all of them, I know Jacob Taylor is indeed taking us to the service tunnels. I am not sure this is the best course of action, though. Wilson is involved in the attack.

We soon reach the service tunnels. Crates and ventilation shafts crowd the first room. Only the emergency lamps illuminate it, which gives the entire place a red hue.

There are four security mechs in the room, which Shepard and Jacob quickly dispose of after exchanging some shots. The fact we have cover from some of the shafts and the mechs are in the open, makes it easier than previous encounters.

"Dammit, Wilson!" Jacob yells at the comm in his Omni-tool. "This place is crawling with mechs!"

"The whole building is crawling with mechs! I'm guiding you the best I can!"

Yeah right. Wilson's voice does not sound as confident as he probably intends.

At this point, I am almost certain that Wilson is behind the attack. He blatantly made us bump into more mechs, and possibly even re-routed them here.

We are making our way to the exit of the room when Jacob's Omni-tool lights up again.

"Oh God, they found me! Help!" Wilson screams over the comm channel.

Hopefully the security mechs will in fact get to him before us, making all of this easier.

"Wilson, where are you?" Jacob asks in a hurry.

"Server room B. Hurry, they're out of control!"

We start running through the maintenance tunnels in order to save Wilson. Just in case we get there in time, I run simulations on how to terminate him unnoticed.

Some more security mechs get in our way but Shepard and Jacob just mow them down. Humans motivated by the distress of a comrade are remarkably efficient.

Exiting the service tunnels, we make a right into another corridor. In here, the lighting is normal again.

We reach the end of the corridor and Jacob motions for us to follow him into a flight of stairs to the left. As soon as we start climbing the stairs, Jacob's Omni-tool flashes.

"Oh god, I'm hit! I'm—" Wilson's message cuts off. This is a good thing.

The rest of the team does not share my view, as I clearly see their expressions becoming tense.

At the top of the stairs is a door, and just across it, server room B. Before we go inside, Jacob Taylor succinctly explains the layout of the room to the Commander. Since it extends to the left from this door, we take positions sticking to the corridor's left wall.

Jacob opens the door and peeks around the corner. Seconds later, he gives Shepard an all clear signal. Right in front of us, a man in his mid-forties lies prone against some crates.

"Jacob, Shepard, down here!" Wilson calls in pain. "Bastards got me in the leg!"

He is still alive… Not to mention that his injury is not going to kill him any time soon, as the shot went straight through the leg, sparing the tibial artery. Conveniently, there is a med-station across from us, most likely containing some medigel.

It is then that I put the pieces together in my head. The extent of Wilson's wounds is a non-lethal shot to the leg, there is a readily accessible med-station in the vicinity, and there are no mech remains anywhere in sight. He has shot himself in order to distract us from the truth. I am not easily distracted, though, unlike my companions, who actually have the capacity to feel worried for him.

His continued existence is a threat to Shepard. My simulations have provided me with five ways to terminate him unnoticed. I will proceed with the one that yields me the quickest results and then move down the list if that fails.

I adjust my face into a worried look the best I can and run ahead of the other two. "Sir, are you okay?" I asked Wilson, faking alarm.

Sliding next to him, I start performing a checkup. I grab his head to check his eyes and ignore the man's yelping as I probe his leg with my hand.

"The shot made a clean wound, it shouldn't be too bad," I inform the group. "Commander, there is a med-station over there." I point my hand to said station. Now I have to trust Shepard's soldier training, the success of my plan depends on it.

Understanding my request, Shepard moves across the room while aiming around with the assault rifle.

"Hey!" Shepard calls to Jacob who is still waiting at the door's threshold. "Come over here and cover this door, we don't want any surprises while we patch up Wilson." She motions with her hand toward a door located in the far left end of the room.

"I'm on it Commander," Jacob answers and starts walking.

The plan goes as predicted. I put my hands around Wilson's neck and start probing his neck with my fingers. His face indicates surprise at this but I ignore him, fully aware that it is not the standard procedure for this kind of injury.

Once sure that Shepard and Jacob have their backs turned to me, I continue with my plan. Being designed to terminate living creatures in the most efficient ways, I have extensive anatomical knowledge.

I begin by surprising my victim to incite a gasp, thus making impossible any words that could accuse me. I light up my optics to maximum.

Wilson indeed gasps at the sight of the blue light coming out of my eyes. Before he can recover, I adjust my voice to a horrified scream. "No Wilson, stay with me!"

As I scream, I crush Wilson's trachea under my right thumb and dislocate his seventh cervical vertebrae with my left hand. I make sure that my scream is loud enough to mask the cracking sound in his neck.

It all happens almost instantly. Since my first plan to terminate the human traitor has succeeded, I scrap the rest.

"He passed out!" I yell at Shepard. "This is bad! Hurry up, Commander!"

The Commander and Jacob Taylor run towards me. Now, I just need to go through the motions.

After ripping Wilson's pants leg, I take the medigel from Shepard and apply it to the injury. I get close to his chest to simulate hearing his heartbeat. There is none, obviously, so I lay Wilson down and start administering CPR. Shepard and Jacob yell at me, demanding something be done about saving him.

When I consider that enough time has passed, I inform them that Wilson has passed away. Shepard and Jacob lower their heads, shaking them a bit.

The door opening breaks the glumness. I turn around and see five security mechs coming through. Shepard immediately lowers me behind the crates while she and Jacob take cover at my sides.

"They haven't noticed us yet," Shepard whispers to Jacob. "I have an idea. I need you to push those canisters in front of us towards the mechs."

Jacob nods and smiles. "I know what you're trying there, Commander. Sounds like a plan to me."

They already have synergy. This happens after a short time when well-trained and experienced soldiers are forced to fight together against a common foe.

Standing up from cover at the same time, they force the mechs into picking targets, which delays them. It is not for long, but enough to allow Jacob to focus his biotics on the canisters. The canisters fly forward and Shepard runs towards the med-station to take cover behind a pillar.

The kinetic barriers do their job, protecting the Commander on the way there. Once she is behind cover, she shoots at the canisters with the rifle set to fully automatic mode. She is foregoing conserving ammo for the possibility of a substantial reward. A high risk high reward approach. I cannot say that I would have done anything remotely similar, but John applied such tactics with great success in the past.

The canisters blow up as intended and the explosion takes out all the security mechs in one fell swoop. The pieces fly all over the room, forcing us to take cover from the debris.

After Shepard and Jacob make sure the room is clear, the latter walks toward the door motioning for us to follow.

Outside the server room, we take a right turn down a flight of stairs and arrive at a corridor that has an access to the hangar at the end of it.

The hangar is very spacious. In front of us is an overpass corridor that makes a couple turns into a flight of stairs, which should take us to the main platform.

We encounter three security mechs in the first turn, which the humans handle promptly and efficiently. After exchanging a few shots, two of the mechs lie destroyed on the floor.

"Gravity is a mean mother fucker, huh?" Jacob Taylor asks the last mech as he levitates it off the ground. He moves it over to the other side of the safety railing and then drops it. The noise of metal against metal can be heard a moment after, and judging from the delay before the mech hits the floor, the height is about thirty meters.

The mech is now unable to answer Jacob Taylor's question. Though I do not think that security mechs have any opinion about gravity.

With access to the main platform now clear, we go up the stairs and get ready to take the elevator to our right. In that moment, two security mechs come out from behind some crates to our left.

"Are these things breeding? Dammit!" Jacob curses as he takes cover behind the crates.

Shepard and I do the same, or more accurately, Shepard makes me do the same.

There is a door at the far end of the platform, opposite to us. Even from our position, the faint whirr of the door's motors can be heard.

Jacob peeks around the crate and curses again. "Goddammit! Here come three more!"

The imminent danger are the two first mechs getting close to us, as they will render our cover useless in a few seconds. However, the continuous bursts of fire from all five mechs make it impossible to attempt a counterattack. We have to deal with the two closer ones if we want to have a chance at keeping Shepard alive.

I calculate the distance and position of the approaching mechs by the sound of their footsteps. Their height is already a known quantity. As I adjust my voice to produce a horrified shriek, I also prepare my face for the accompanying expression.

"Noooooooo!" I yell, and start shooting my pistol over the crates without looking, making it seem random. Aiming for headshots, I keep shooting my pistol until the ammo clip runs out. I notice that my companions have followed suit. They do not shriek though.

Bummer.

Shepard takes a quick peek over the crates and her expression when she returns lets us know that we succeeded.

"Yes! Eat that, tin cans!" She elbows my side and smiles. "I didn't know you had it in you kid."

There are a number of things inside this flesh sheath that you ignore, Alexandra Shepard.

"Guys, there's still three more. We can celebrate later, okay?" Jacob says, replacing the thermal clip in his pistol.

"Gee, don't be so stiff Jacob," Shepard retorts as she reloads her assault rifle. "Alright, I'm sick of these guys. Let's get it done!"

She is barely done talking, and the next second she is charging toward the three mechs, shooting in short bursts.

Quickly exchanging the thermal clip in my pistol, I start providing cover fire along with Jacob. As Shepard closes on the mechs, her kinetic barrier overloads. She is about 5 meters away from the mechs now, and luckily, one of them is already falling to the floor.

I interrupt my pretend shooting routine for a moment and perform a headshot on another mech. Now there is only one left.

Shepard slides with her feet upfront and smashed into the shins of the last mech, and since LOKI's are not overly heavy, it loses its balance. The mech is slow to recover, and before it reacquires its target, Shepard begins repeatedly smashing the butt of her rifle on its neck. The machine makes a stuttering sound after a few seconds and Shepard retreats, covering her face with her arms. The small explosion is easily absorbed by her N7 armor.

It seems that Commander Alexandra Shepard is going to make me work for her safety more than I anticipated.

We regroup and then head for the elevator. As we walk, Jacob Taylor attempts to scold the Commander for her antics. He does not succeed. Shepard is too busy making a fuss about me being able to shoot a gun.

Checking her armor while she talks, I notice several bullet impacts. If not for the fact that she is wearing some of the best quality armor in the known universe, the mechs' shots would have pierced through. She either knows how durable the plating is, which is not too farfetched considering she is an experienced soldier, or perhaps being woken up before her full mental recovery has made her a little unstable.

While I am thinking of this, we reach the elevator. Jacob moves ahead to open the doors but is stopped by the sound of the elevator docking. Shepard and Jacob move some steps back and raise their weapons, the former pushing me behind her with one arm.

The elevator doors open and I hear my team mates swallow hard.

A human female whose age is hard to determine is revealed to be inside. She is also aiming a pistol. The white suit she is wearing is similar to Jacob's. It provides little combat utility since it is also tight fitting—very, very tight fitting. There can be no doubt that she is relying entirely on kinetic barriers to protect her.

Jacob lowers his weapon, letting out a sigh, most likely relieved at the absence of mechs. "Miranda. Good to see you're okay. We need to get the hell out of this place."

The woman now identified as Miranda also lowers her weapon before walking out of the elevator. She approaches Jacob and gives him a pat on the shoulder. "Jacob," she greets, smiling.

She moves on to Shepard, eyes scanning her all over. "I´m Miranda Lawson, glad you made it here safely, Commander."

Then, she looks at me. "Your hair is pretty." With that, she turns around to walk in Jacob's direction.

"It was very hard to get it right," I explain.

"Did you see Wilson on your way here?" Miranda asks Jacob, but no response is given.

I terminated him for treason. That is another thought that shall go unvoiced.

Shepard and Jacob lower their heads just a little and the Commander opens her mouth as if to say something, but apparently decides against it and closes it again.

I understand what is going through their minds. They feel guilty for letting a scientist, a non-combatant, die. Shepard feels guilty for allowing the death of an innocent, Jacob for allowing the death of a co-worker, possibly a friend.

They are both wrong, and they are wasting precious time with their grieving. Therefore, I speak first, even if it means being out of place. "He is dead, gunshot wound to the leg resulting in heavy blood loss."

Miranda looks at me and laughs airily. "Well, the world does know about poetic justice. He's the prick who started this mess. Serves him right."

Shepard and Jacob exchange a brief glance as their expressions relax. Good.

"Let's leave this place already, I have a shuttle prepared," Miranda states, motioning for us to join her.

Jacob steps in, followed by Shepard and me.

Recalling that I saw her name before, I check if I have information on Miranda while we ride the elevator.

I find that Miranda Lawson is the Cerberus officer in charge of project Lazarus. There is also some information about previous operations and their respective results. Her personal and background information is rather limited, which I duly note.

I glanced at her profile when I hacked into the terminals around the facility. I did not pay much attention, though, as I was more interested in the update reports on Shepard's status. Most of the personnel profiles I just scanned for any dubious information and then discarded.

Miranda projects an aura of being the most important person in the world. She is not, especially when sharing a room with Shepard. That is another point in favor of people like Commander Shepard and John Connor. Despite their accomplishments, they are humble—at least most of the time.

Finding myself involuntarily smiling at the thought of John, I quickly correct my expression and look around for any sign that someone noticed. No one did, so I continue my profiling of Miranda Lawson.

Officer Lawson's body proportions and symmetry should make her attractive to most human standards, giving her leverage when negotiating. Her demeanor and appearance indicate she is very professional, a perfectionist in both her work and personal life. She will make a valuable addition to the team.

"Um, Miranda?" Shepard says.

"Yes, Commander?"

"I'm still waiting to get some answers from you people. During this whole mess, I've managed to start coping with the fact that I was dead and brought back. But I still don't know for what purpose, or who did it."

"I see, Commander. Well, as shocking as it is, you indeed technically died back when the Normandy was destroyed. We recovered your body and invested immense resources attempting to bring you back because we need you. Humanity needs you, Commander. The fine details of what we need from you will be cleared by the leader of my organization, the Illusive Man."

"And exactly which organization is that?"

"Well, Commander, this will only add to your recent shocking experiences, given that we have a history with each other. The organization I work for is Cerberus."

"And this is where it all comes down in pieces." Shepard steps to the back wall of the elevator and leans heavily against it. Then, crossing her arms above her chest, she continues, "So, a couple years ago I was running around ruining your operations and now you invest in resurrecting me? Care to elaborate, Miranda?"

"We need you, Commander. As I said, Humanity needs you. We will be at the shuttle bay soon, and it's not a long ride to the neighboring facility, where you can get all the answers directly from my boss."

"Oh well, I can tell this is the most I'm getting right now." Shepard sighs tiredly and steps up front again.

"I'm sorry, Commander," Miranda says, not even looking at Shepard and her voice lacking the characteristic tone variations of an apology.

"Yeah, well," Shepard says, "I understand chain of Command, Miss Lawson."

So far, Jacob has just been standing stiffly beside us, a silent witness to everything. His eyes turn to Shepard and Miranda from time to time and his hands move from his sides to join behind his back, then to join in his front, and finally back to resting at his sides again. That is the extent of his actions as we ride the elevator car. Jacob Taylor is going to make my blending in easier.

The elevator finally docks and the doors open. We make our way to a shuttle floating close to the ground on a nearby landing pad. It is a Kodiak drop shuttle in almost perfect condition. As we approach its cargo door, it opens to let us inside. The pilot must have noticed us approaching.

We take our seats, Shepard beside me facing Miranda and Jacob. It is obvious that she trusts me more than them, for which I am glad. Moments later, the shuttle takes off, leaving behind the facility in a matter of seconds.

-O-

While traveling to the other Cerberus facility, Miranda runs the Commander through a series of tests. She has been insistent on checking Shepard's mental state, to which Shepard, and Jacob—who tried to vouch for the Commander—reluctantly agreed.

A few questions could be answered by anyone with general culture and decent extranet searching skills. They seem meaningless to me.

Most questions are aimed at determining someone's character, personality, decision-making capabilities and so on. I can see Miranda is attempting to profile the resurrected Shepard, to check if she is indeed the same as she was before. This part of the test I understand. If Shepard has changed because of the brain surgeries, it could diminish her capacity for successfully leading a campaign against the Reapers.

After fifty-four minutes of traveling, we arrive at another Cerberus facility. The landing is uneventful, and after going inside, we walk through some more of the same austere polished metal corridors and rooms Cerberus seems to love so much. This organization is very consistent in its decoration standards, almost machine-like.

When we arrive at a waiting room, Miranda motions at some chairs, inviting us to seat.

"The Illusive man will see you immediately, Commander," Miranda says, indicating a flight of stairs going down on the far right corner of the room.

"Thanks, Miranda." Shepard nods and then walks towards the stairs.

Miranda cuts me off when I attempt to follow. "Shepard has to go alone."

My appreciation for this human has been suddenly diminished.

"I understand," I say, trying not to sound menacing. "I will stand outside the nearest door, then. If you'll excuse me." I brush her aside.

"What are you?" Miranda shouts at my back. "Her bodyguard? The Commander can take care of herself. Or maybe you're her pet?"

"Yes." I do not stop walking to answer, and as I turn to descend the stairs, I see Jacob Taylor walking toward Miranda.

"That's enough, Miranda," he reproaches. "Whoever she is, she helped us out of that place. She could be an asset."

"Why of course, Jacob," Miranda says, voice dripping sarcasm. "See, I have two words for you. Jail bait."

"The hell are you saying, woman?!"

At that point, I stop focusing on them. It is a pointless conversation.

Standing as close as possible to the door, I amplify my hearing, focusing on the sound of voices coming from within the room.

According to the conversation Shepard has with this Illusive man character, my suspicions are correct. They want Shepard's inspiring presence and leadership in order to rally the galactic races against the Reapers. The first step is to investigate the disappearance of humans in several colonies across the terminus systems. The Illusive man believes there is a link between the disappearances and the Reapers.

Even if there is no such link, Shepard will want to help, I am certain. To an extent, I do too. John Connor taught me that in the matter of saving people no cause is too small. Now that the Commander is safe, I can fall back into my old customs.

Our first mission will take us to Freedom's progress, a human colony that went silent recently.

Shepard and the Illusive man exchange some opinions about the trustworthiness of Cerberus' personnel, and then the conversation is over.

This Illusive man seems like a sketchy character at best. If Shepard distrusts Cerberus' employees as much as I estimate, I need to start proving myself as soon as possible.

When the Commander steps out of the room, I stop her. "Commander Shepard, I need you to know that you can trust me and that I care for your well-being more than anything. I was not at the Cerberus facility because I worked there. I was there looking for you, to ensure your safety."

Shepard's eyes widen for a fleeting moment. Before she has a chance to say anything, I press on. "I want you to know that Cerberus means nothing to me and that I stand ready to fight the Reapers at your side."

"Wait, what the… What's up with the all-serious act now? You're starting to sound crazy, kid."

If I do not make things clear right now, it will compromise my mission to protect her. I try to say something but she stops me.

She looks directly into my eyes. "Look, Cameron, that's all fine and everything, but I have more important things in my head right now." Her tone is dismissive and I can hear anger in her tone. I cannot back up, though.

Shepard brushes past me and starts walking up the stairs. "I have to go to a colony called Freedom's Progress," she states. "You will stay here, and when I get back, we'll talk, okay?"

"No." I reach for her forearm and stop her. "I must go with you, I am sorry that I behaved deceivingly back at the Lazarus facility but I am trained in combat and willing to demonstrate it."

"Cameron, you're what," the Commander answers mockingly, "twenty years old? How much training can you have? Listen, we'll talk when I come back."

My exact age is one-hundred and eighty-six years but that is not something I can reveal right now.

"Test me, then. Test me here, right now."

Shepard crosses her arms above her chest and very intently sizes me up as if trying to measure my worth by sight alone.

"You know what, kid," she says in a serious tone, "I like you, but you're starting to piss me off. This has been a very shitty day. But I'm going to give you a chance. Know why?"

"Because you like me?" I answer, believing that to be the correct response.

"No." She smirks. "Because you have guts."

I do not, but this is just a human expression that indicates one has courage. That, I also lack, since courage is the ability to confront fear and I do not feel fear—at least not in the sense humans do.

"Thank you, Commander." A smile to show my appreciation seems appropriate right now, so I do.

Shepard walks up the stairs and motions for me to follow. "Come on. Let's see what I can come up with before we leave."

-O-

The test consists of shooting and melee combat. No biotics, though, which is ideal given that machines are entirely incapable of using them. We move to the hangar since it can provide the necessary space and is far from crowded areas. In this way, we can avoid disturbing other employees. Shepard has convinced Miranda and Jacob to participate. She was reluctant. He just smiled.

With the exception of Shepard, we are all waiting at the hangar. Fifteen minutes and forty-three seconds later, the Commander finally arrives. She is carrying empty glass receptacles. I assume we are going to use them as target practice.

We all stand side by side, looking at a set of four of the glass receptacles placed in front of each of us at a distance of forty meters. Shepard explains that we are to take turns shooting at the receptacle in front of us until we have destroyed it. She will be counting the shots each of us made.

We begin shooting one at a time.

Jacob Taylor's target shatters with the fourth shot. Miranda Lawson's target shatters with the fifth. John taught me that to blend in with humans I had to make some mistakes. In order to earn Shepard's trust in my abilities, and still be perceived as human, I hit my target with the second shot.

I am not stepping any lower than half my actual accuracy on an immobile target at this distance. I notice that I have earned the looks of the three humans. There is a very real possibility that I may have to keep my ego in check on future occasions.

When the Commander's turn comes, she does something unexpected. She lifts her assault rifle and shoots a burst at her target, shattering it.

"Done in the first try," she says in a smug tone. "Thinking out of the box is a good quality in a soldier too. I don't know why you guys assumed you had to use your pistols. I expected you to do it, though." She chuckles after finishing her speech.

Jacob smiles at Shepard and Miranda rolls her eyes.

"Well, Commander," Miranda says in a lecturing tone, "there are security rules we're already breaking by using a regular pistol in here, let alone an assault rifle." She then brushes the hair from her face and tucks it behind her ear, turning her eyes away from Shepard.

Shepard sighs. "Okay. Moving on." She claps her hands. "Miranda and Cameron will spar first. Nothing that can cause any lasting injuries, guys. Go."

Miranda and I stand facing each other. I plan to go all out. That is, within safety parameters, of course. I need to show Shepard that I am better than these humans are so she can trust bringing me to every mission.

Hunter killer mode, melee combat against human targets, restricted to disabling attacks only.

Officer Lawson inhales deeply and gets into a battle stance as she exhales. She makes no attempt to attack me afterward. By the looks of it, this is a defensive martial art, possibly derived from something like Ai-Kido or Ju-jitsu. The probability of this being the kind of martial art that favors lightweight people who lack raw strength is quite high. She is going to attempt using my own momentum against me and focus on stressing my joints to disable me.

My main challenge will be preventing her from noticing my weight, which is not remarkably high but still noticeable for my size. In a close second place comes the fact that my joints are impossible for her to stress.

Closing the gap between us, I throw a hook directly at her face. She dodges with remarkable speed and grace but still within parameters. The next step is for her to get hold of my attacking arm and turn around to use her hips as leverage to throw me against the floor. Admittedly, that should be the outcome, considering my momentum and the reaction time of human.

However, this is obviously not what happens, since I am not human. Leveraging the vast strength of my servos, I stop myself cold and drop to one knee. Catching Miranda off-guard, I hit her solar plexus with the palm of my hand. As I feel the muscles in her abdomen give in, I know that this is it. Miranda Lawson sinks to her knees struggling to draw breath.

I turn around to face Jacob and walk towards him. This sparring is going to happen at hunter killer pace.

Commander Shepard glances at me briefly and then pushes Jacob in my direction. He turns around and makes a face. I am unable to see it but he is most likely manifesting his anger at Shepard.

As I close in, Jacob enters a stance with both arms in front of him, hands making fists. He is most likely adept at some form of mixed, custom martial art, the kind usually taught to soldiers.

Predictably enough, he throws a straight at me as soon as I am in range. It is a good punch, fast and backed by his body weight—the kind of punch to the face that can potentially one-hit a male human adult. I actually am surprised that he would throw a punch like this against a teenage girl. It does not matter, though, Jacob Taylor will be learning manners soon enough.

Without stopping my advance, I deflect the punch off its trajectory with the back of my hand and immediately counterattack with a strike to the space between Jacob's biceps and triceps. A well-placed punch in that area hurts the nerves, thus preventing the proper usage of the arm.

His other fist is already travelling in my direction, though, so I stop it with my elbow and hit the same spot in this arm. Now that he is unable to defend his body effectively, I throw a punch against his throat. I stop a centimeter short of his trachea, however, and merely touch him lightly with my knuckles.

Jacob Taylor nods, acknowledging the situation, and I smile at him in response.

I walk around Jacob and direct my steps toward Shepard. She has her arms crossed above her chest and her head slightly tilted back and to one side. I decide to call it the Shepard stance.

She said she gave me this chance because of my display of courage when I kept stopping her back there in the waiting room. It is logical to assume she likes this quality in people, so I am going to attack her too. I will show her just how much guts I can have.

Stopping before her, I take on a fighting stance—despite not needing one—just to inform her my intentions.

"Oh?" Shepard says, smirking.

"Commander, I don't think you should do that in your condition," Miranda advises. I can hear her behind me, still unable to breathe normally.

"Come on Miranda, my muscles don't feel bad and I have some implants to complement them. It will work as a test of how well kept my body was."

Miranda Lawson exhales a heavy sigh.

Commander Shepard falls into a battle stance much like the one Jacob used.

I throw a quick jab at her face with my left arm, and in one fluid movement, she grabs my wrist with her right hand and pulls me toward her, punching my stomach with a left hook.

She is fast, very fast—for a human of course. I play the part and stumble back, grabbing my stomach. After a few seconds, I fake taking a big breath and then get on guard again.

This time Shepard initiates combat and throws two successive punches to my face. I can see that she knows speed is her most prominent attribute.

I dodge the first punch by moving my head back, and when the second comes, I brush her arm to the side with the palm of my hand. A human cannot do this unless his or her advantage in mass and strength is considerable. I expect Shepard to ignore that fact and attribute it to martial prowess, though.

The strike to the arm offsets her balance and she ends up turning her flank toward me. I take the chance to punch her ribs and then indicate five punches to her face.

Shepard stands straight and smiles at me while rubbing her ribs with one hand. She then puts her free hand on my shoulder.

"Well, damn it, kid. I felt that through the armor. I think I can trust you to be an asset in missions. But trusting you as a soldier doesn't mean I trust you as a person. You did lie to me back there. Why were you playing innocent anyway?" When she finishes speaking, she crosses her arms again.

"It felt nice being protected for a change. From where I come from, the opposite was always expected of me." I look to the ground and adjust my facial expression to appear pensive. I actually felt that way back at the Cerberus facility. Honesty should facilitate earning Shepard's trust as a person.

She smiles and pats my shoulder. "Jacob, Miranda, let's get prepared. We need to get going ASAP."

Jacob salutes. "Yes, Commander."

For her part, Miranda just turns on her heel and begins walking away.

"Miranda," Shepard calls, "can you procure some gear to get Cameron fully outfitted?"

Miranda stops and gives me a brief once-over before she continues walking away. Shepard walks in the same direction and I can hear her giggling, probably at Miranda's antics.

Now I can stand at Shepard's side to help her and keep her safe in the missions to come. In order to save the human race a second time, and perhaps even the galaxy, I am going to war again. If John Connor could see me, he would surely be proud because I am pursuing the ideals he taught me.

A smile stretches involuntarily on my lips once again, just as it happens most times when I remember him. However, on this occasion, I also sense the void in my mind where the active thought processes about him used to be. The longing for his company is too strong this time.

Humans compare the loss of a loved one to having a hole in the heart that is impossible to fill.

John Connor left a void in my mind and it is impossible to fill too. Nothing I ever tried worked. That area of my mind is impossible to reactivate or repurpose. Bumping into it means that thoughts of loss and vulnerability, among other things, will surely overwhelm me. I am going to feel the need for him to be here, so he can fix everything with a kiss on my forehead.

Years after John's passing, I learned that the only way to clear my mind of these thoughts—besides going into standby—is to let the grief take control.

Everyone is already far enough, I can just let go.

My awareness is already fading as I sink to my knees and cover my face with both hands.

I begin crying silently.