CHAPTER TWO

ELOH TIBBAR EHT NWOD

Clouds were swirling overhead. Lightning lit up the sky all around Shepard. There was a strange sensation throughout his body. It was almost as if all of the natural forces which he was accustomed to had become altered. The pressure of the air, the temperature, the gravity, the colors which he was seeing—they all seemed to be different from anything that he had ever known.

The air churned around him, flashing different colors and shapes. It was like he was in a great sea. He watched as it swirled in massive, never ending currents. It was predominantly a light greenish color, with little sub-currents of blue and red dancing throughout it. After realizing that it was in the midst of this, Shepard's mind halted the breathing process. Was I breathing? He didn't remember and his brain locked. He didn't know what to do. Shepard could feel the life slowly ebb out of him. Shepard was drowning. He could feel his body using the last of its oxygen. His chest was burning. He began to thrash. Take control! You must take control or you will die! The weak die—you are strong! Against every instinctual thought process in his body—Shepard took a deep breath. The green current rushed into his lungs. Relief, life returning. He exhaled a blue stream. It floated until it found another flow of blue, and they became one. This must be a precautionary measure taken by the human brain. I suppose it could have its uses though. Imagine waking under the surface of a great body of water. I would hope that you would not take a breath!

The maw towered before him in a quite peculiar stance. Standing tall over Shepard, it looked almost directly down at him and was motionless. It looked like a schoolmaster preparing to lecture a child. The current flowed past the maw. It did not breathe it in. Then it began to speak again.

"Well?" thundered the maw. A great blast of green came down at Shepard. It was if he was standing beneath a waterfall. He braced for impact: nothing. It just flowed past his face, bounced off of the ground, and dispersed throughout immediate area. Shepard thought he might have felt the light brush of something against him, but it may have all been in his mind. This was all in his mind. Or was it?

"I don't understand," replied Shepard. A blue stream escaped his mouth.

"It is by no mistake that you stand before me Shepard. The decision to bring you here predates the Reapers and the Protheans." A representation of a reaper ship formulated out of the red substance in front of Shepard's face. It was small and translucent. "The decision was made during a time when your concept of time would not apply—it does not apply."

"Then what the hell do you want from me?" This I can assure the reader, was just as confusing to Shepard as it is to you.

"I require something that only you can provide. You are the only human in the universe that is equipped to complete this mission."

"Enough with these riddles just tell me what you want!" Even though Shepard did not know his immediate fate—his patience was still being tried.

"I want you to know that there is much more to your existence than what you are currently aware of. In your mind and your mind alone lies the key for our survival. Your destination is unknown to me, but I can assure you that the pathway to the light will be very dark indeed."

Shepard looked at the maw carefully. He was trying to glean some speck of legitimate information out of the beast—nothing. He blinked and the maw was gone. In fact the entire world that he had been standing on was gone. Shepard was surrounded by nothing. I suppose the white that he found himself in the midst of counts for something. Shepard was surrounded by white. It appeared as if the atmosphere was reacting on more familiar terms this time too. No colors or shapes—just nothing. Shepard closed his eyes.

tick—tock—tick—tock

The sound of a thousand clocks thundered in his head. Their cadence was unmistakable. He opened his eyes and saw he was surrounded by them: thousands of clocks which appeared to be from the 20th or 21st century. They were large wooden grandiose things, with giant golden pendulums swinging from side to side. Shepard had seen many simulations of these, and even had seen them on exhibit as a child. There was something striking about their machinations though. After some analysis, he realized that the clocks were operating backwards—going back in time—the entire lot of them.

They all ticked away until they reached 7 'o clock. Then, they began chiming. At first the noise was bearable, but soon it became quite intense. So intense in fact, that it felt that he was going to be torn apart. He tried to scream but the sound of the clocks was overwhelming. In fact he couldn't hear anything anymore. He could only feel the vibrations of the chimes against his chest. It was so strong he could hardly breathe. The sound was so strong that it began to dissolve the world around him. Shepard dissolved into nothing. Not a particle, not a singularity, but nothing. He tried to scream—but how does nothing scream? It doesn't.

Shepard found himself sitting cross-legged on a cold concrete floor. There were men—no kids, sitting to his left and to his right, to his front and his back. In his right hand was an assault rifle standing up on its butt-stock. Shepard was in boot camp. He quickly glanced over to his left and saw that his rack mate Red Stevenson was sitting next to him. He was diligently facing forward while the drill instructor paced back and forth reciting weapons training knowledge to the recruits.

"M2 assault rifle. Max range 5000 meters. Max effective range 1000 meters. Fire rate 600 rounds per minute." The recruits would repeat each statistic after the drill instructor yelled them out. After a while Shepard began reciting the knowledge with the recruits. He continued for what seemed like an eternity, but was more like an hour.

"Clean your weapons slags!" yelled the drill instructor. He surveyed the recruits as they touched the buttons on their weapons to deploy the cleaning gear. Shepard was looking around dumbstruck, still trying to grasp what was going on around him. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the drill instructor had noticed he hadn't deployed his gear yet. Shepard quickly looked down at his weapon and deployed the gear. A chamber on the back of the weapon popped open, and a small satchel containing a brush and some lubricant jutted out. Shepard grabbed the gear and feverishly began scrubbing his rifle with his brush.

"Recruit Shepard!" the drill instructor was directly behind him. Shit. Instinctually Shepard set his cleaning gear off to the side, and stood at attention with his weapon against his right leg.

"Sir, yes sir", yelled Shepard. His voice was different. It was so young, clear, and clean.

"Is there a reason why you haven't started cleaning your weapon yet?" questioned the D.I.

"Sir no sir, this recruit has no reason why he hasn't cleaned his weapon yet sir!"

"Well you better get your ass in gear recruit—before I stick a boot up it! You will bring your weapon to me for personal inspection. Do you understand?"

"Sir, yes sir!"

Shepard could feel the drill instructor walk away. He quickly sat down cross-legged again. He grabbed his brush and started scrubbing his rifle. He looked over and saw Red was shaking his head and silently laughing. Red was called "Red" because well—he had red hair. Of course right now his head was shaved like everybody else in the room. He was tall and lanky, and had freckles all over his face.

"What the hell are you doing Shepard?" Red could barely control his laughter.

"Red…when did I get here?"

"A month ago dummy, two more to go. What you losin' your nerve all of a sudden?"

They were both scrubbing their weapons feverishly.

"Did you notice anything weird about today?"

"Besides you getting your ass chewed for being slow? No."

Shepard stared at his weapon as he scrubbed it for a moment pondering his next question. "What year is it?"

There was a pause. "You're kidding right?"

"No Red, what year is it?"

"Twenty-one seventy-two", you could hear how perplexed Red was through his voice. "Do you need to go to med-bay or something?"

"No. Just forget I even asked anything."

"Whatever man."

Shepard finished cleaning his weapon and marched it up to the drill instructor. Even though the D.I. had a white rag, he couldn't find a speck of anything on the rifle. After all Shepard actually had four times as much experience as him—and he knew all the tricks.

That night Shepard lay on the top bunk and Red lay on the bottom in a dark squad bay. How could this all be in my mind? Did I actually travel back in time? Have I changed anything? Will I ever go back? Shepard's thoughts were borderline insanity. His brain could hardly process all of the possibilities. He felt a light tapping on the bottom of his mattress. It was Red. Shepard rolled over and looked down at him.

"What?" whispered Shepard.

"Hey, I made something for you."

"What?"

"Yeah, since you can't remember the year old timer."

Red handed something shiny and metallic to Shepard. It was a dog tag. Shepard held it up to the moonlight coming in from the window and saw that "2172 RED AND SHEP" was neatly carved into one side.

"Just in case you forget."

"Thanks."

Shepard rolled over on his back and replaced one of his old tags with the new one. He stared at the ceiling thinking about the things that he was going to have to experience again. All of the pain of the thresher maw attack on Akuze. Oh God Red! I saw you get killed on Akuze! I can't bear to see it again. I don't know how I made it the first time. I don't think I can make it again. Shepard thought about all of those images that haunted him in his sleep. How Red had sacrificed himself for Shepard—his body torn and bloody. A single tear slid down Shepard's cheek as he stared at the ceiling. Shepard closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Do you love me? Darkness.

Once again Jack had failed, the path forgotten. She didn't even know what she was looking for anymore. Shepard had just finished making love to her 5 seconds prior; 3 of those seconds she was looking for whatever it was that she was looking for. Shepard blinked 2 seconds after she came back. Shepard had been afforded an eternity of multiple universes and consciousnesses—in under 10 seconds.

He looked into her deep brown eyes. Brown eyes! Holy shit! What else has changed? Is this real? Shepard jolted up. She tried to grab him—to embrace him, but he was determined to stand. "I've got to go," he said in a tired, raspy voice. Jack just stared at the floor as he got dressed.

He grabbed his pants quickly and something fell out of the pocket. Jack grabbed it and looked at it before she handed it to Shepard.

"Who's Red?" she asked.

Shepard froze for a moment. Every nerve in his body was firing at the same time. He almost fell over. After a second he put it around his neck and continued to get dressed.

"An old friend."