"Navigation online, engines primed and ready."

Within the craft's cockpit Noble Six waited bristling with impatience, modules flashing all around him as the fighter slowly readied for launch, Noble's AI, Auntie Dot took care of all the logistical necessities outside while he primed the Sabre for launch. Her revelation still bothered the Spartan but he could mull on her change later, for now he needed to escape Reach and link up with the remaining UNSC fleet. So lost in his thoughts he completely missed the keying sequence for the launch, only when Dot's monotone voice sounded over the intercom did he finally notice his distraction.

"Noble Six?"

Flipping several switches, the Spartan forced himself to focus on his current objective, everything else he could deal with once he was safely away, reunited with the rest of humanity. For now, he needed to make sure he didn't blow himself up, "I've got it Dot, ignition sequence underway."

"Acknowledged, bay doors open. T-minus sixty seconds until launch."

Outside the cockpit, an array of yellow lights flooded the launch platform, warning the empty complex of his intent. Below him the massive engines rumbled as they too began their ignition sequence, without them the craft lacked the thrust to penetrate Reach's gravitational pull and escape the atmosphere. A single tiny problem and he wouldn't have to worry about the Covenant; the entire rocket was a bomb waiting to ignite underfoot. Six truly despised space, even in control of a fighter craft he still felt like a helpless newborn. Better to leave space to the aliens and AI.

"Ignition in T-minus twenty seconds and counting."

Again, the AI sounded off, this was it. Six gripped the control stick tightly, the craft reverberating beneath him as the massive engines ignited. The groaning of the metal and the roar of the rockets still unsettled him, oh how he truly hated flying. In his ear, Dot had begun the final countdown, ticking off the seconds with her cold synthetic voice, no matter how much her programmers tried they could not make the AI's voice sound human.

"Ignition."

Despite bracing himself for the launch the massive force from the boosters still jarred him, throwing him deeper into the contoured seat Six gritted his teeth as the craft rapidly ascended from the facility, a plume of smoke following him. The force of the launch was still an unsavory experience, during his time the Spartan suffered the pummels by the likes of Elites, Brutes, and even his fellow Spartans. This however was different; it felt as if some bastard had parked a convoy of Scorpions piloted by Hunters on his body.

Cursing under his breath Six examined the horizon as the craft propelled upwards, what should have been a beautiful sight now only showed the horror that the Covenant brought with them. Alight with smoldering flames and brilliant strikes of purple Six watched humanity's jewel crumble under alien wrath, even if he perished in the process the Spartan commando vowed to slaughter every Covenant he could.

The intense rumbling that had accompanied his ascent slowly tapered off as the boosters chewed through their allotted reserves, flicking a switch the craft burned away from the detached rockets and into the coldness of the space. The familiar weightless feeling descended upon him as the Spartan double checked the Sabre's systems, all green, thank whatever deities floated around for small miracles. "Dot, what is the status of the Covenant fleet?"

"A moment…According to sensors the Covenant armada is currently engaged in combat with an unknown aggressor."

"Unknown aggressor? Is it the UNSC?" This perked Six's interests; did they still have a presence in-system that could content with the aliens? His hopes lay dashed as the AI finished her scans; her reveal did little to soothe his disappointment.

"Negative, based upon current data all UNSC ships have been destroyed or scuttled. It seems that the Covenant fleet is currently engaged in conflict with another larger Covenant CAS-class assault carrier."

That revelation caused the normally stoic Spartan to laugh, casually flipping off in the vague direction of the battle; "Let the bastards kill each other off, less work for me then." Igniting the Sabre's own engines speeding away from the planet and battle, he had to find a craft with FTL capability, there had to be a ship that he could salvage. Surrounding him floated the extensive wreckages of humanity's fleet, sixty percent of their might pulled from other deployments brought to engage the aliens, despite their valiant stand, they now lay obliterated humanity's bulwark collapsed in the face of a superior enemy. Six gently pulled the stick, gliding the craft away from a large piece of hull, clearly of human origin but despite the extensive metal scoring the Spartan could still make out the distinct outline of the broad white eagle wings. Hidden beneath the black scarring a partial name survived, even if their sacrifice drowned in the sea of history, he would remember them.

"Algar…"

"Noble Six? Please repeat."

Shaking his head mournfully the Spartan sped up nothing he could do for the crew, and even if they somehow survived the ship's destruction, they most certainly would have suffocated in the vacuum. "It's nothing Dot."

The familiar sense of hopelessness returned as his continued search returned no fruit, every ship he came across the same suffered the same fate. Either completely bisected and gutted by plasma or scuttled and rendered inert by the former crew, if he had time and help he could possibly restore one to working order but based on Dot's calculations the in-fighting would end soon with either side victorious. Noble Six doubted highly that either side would take too highly, of his snooping; sliding back into his seat Six resisted the urge to slam his fist against the console. Without a Shaw-Fujikawa Translight engine, the Spartan had no chance of reaching home, according to the AI, at his current velocity it could take him upwards to five thousand years to reach Earth. The AI's cold explanation of his chances served only to further his morbid amusement, survive hell on Reach only to starve or suffocate within the cold vacuum. Typical.

He would have preferred to die on Reach.

"Multiple Impulse drive signatures detected."

Broken from his pitiful depression Six violently scanned the horizon before bringing up his scanner, several craft appearing on the once barren radar. Definitely not UNSC, he mocked as his fighter shook multiple rounds of superheated plasma slammed against the craft's shielding, his vision streaked with a golden ripple as the Covenant craft continued to pepper his shields. The prototype craft had an even simpler module than his MJOLNIR armor; if he remembered the schematics correctly, his Sabre could only take a few more rounds before they failed completely. And there definitely was no local Space Boys to fix them.

"Four Type-27 Exoatmospheric Multi-role Fighter detected on an intercept course. Evasive action required."

"I know Dot! Jam their communications if you can, we can't let them alert the fleet." Six screamed at the AI as he rolled the fighter to his left, narrowly avoiding the blob of green energy that flew by. Six cursed as the round exploded against a section of hull, a vivid green light blotting out the empty blackness. 'Well that's a new one, they didn't use those before.'

"I will do what I am able Noble Six, but I cannot guarantee success."

Jerking the stick back he pulled the craft up, avoiding more of the alien's superheated weapons gritting his teeth Six resisted his body's desire to expel the previously ingested rations. The edge of his vision slowly bleeding color, slivers of silver lines exploding in his eyes, his head feeling as if he had just given a pint too much of blood.

"Noble Six, please reduce speed, biotelemetry scans indicate lower than recommended levels of arterial blood pressure."

"Damnit Dot, shut up!"

Swinging the craft around he let loose a barrage of the Sabre's 30mm cannons, several of the round pinging against the Banshee interceptor, the craft shuddered for a moment purple plasma leaking from its engines like a stream of blood before it erupted in a purple hellfire. The Elite pilot within most certainly incinerated by the inferno, swerving around the wreckage Six grinned within his helmet, one down three to go. As if on his mental cue the three remaining ships continue they plasmic assault, several rounds of heated plasma lancing past his cockpit. One round finding itself lucky enough to melt a portion of the reinforced composited material making up the cockpit window, Six cursed at himself, his shields seemed to have failed sooner than he predicted, now he had to rely on his piloting skills to survive. He was a better pilot than this, he had to stop letting his grief and anger cloud his skill.

Flicking several switches on the canopy display Six slid his thumb over the Medusa missile switch; waiting a moment longer, he allowed his thumb to indent the button. Normally the missile salvo thrust forward away from the craft before the thrusters ignited and rocketed towards their homed target. Instead, the Spartan had disabled the weapon's onboard thrusters, leaving the missiles to become improvised free-floating mines. Surging forward he waited until his Covenant pursuers flew closer, their onboard sensors ignoring the seemingly inert weapons. Perfect, they would be none the wiser until his trap had sprung.

Flicking another switch Six suppressed a malevolent chuckle as Dot read off the damage to their pursuers; One Banshee down, second venting plasma from its port wing, while the third escaped undamaged. To his advantage, it seemed that the technologically superior Covenant never thought of using mines or at least never repurposing existing technology for such a purpose. Their mistake was to his advantage.

His victory is short lived however, as the Banshee pilots, livid at his unorthodox and dishonorable tactics renewed their pursuit vigorously. The barrage of plasma striking the rear of his craft, sections of his hull peeling away as the superheated rounds melted the metal frame, his AI attempted to interject while he madly attempted to evade their pursuers. It wasn't until he tried to roll his craft did he the AI's warnings finally set in;

"Noble Six, we have entered a region of space occupied by an anomalous field of electromagnetic interference. Electronics and avionics have failed."

In a fit of anger, the Spartan slammed his fist against the console, he seemed to be doing that a lot lately but considering the past couple weeks he figured he had proper excuse to vent his anger on all manner of technology, and walls. Futilely he jerked the stick back and forth, hoping his mental commands could possibly force the machine to move to no surprise the craft did not relent to his assault. The Spartan expected his end to come soon, the pursuing Covenant craft would surely obliterate his drifting craft, to his astonishment he turned to find the craft swiftly departing. Even the Elites knew better than to fly into a spatial anomaly, chalk this up to another reason why Six loathed space, random quirks that completely invalidated even the most advanced technology.

"God dammit all to hell, Dot isn't there anything you can do?"

The AI was silent for a moment as the craft's electronics began to flicker on and off, "I am sorry Noble Six, there is nothing I can do."

The spiteful rebuttal that Six had prepared died in his throat as a wave of nausea arrived suddenly followed swiftly by sharp pains all over his body. He tried to speak only to find his throat welling shut, something was waging war against his body that he couldn't fight against. A familiar tinge of copper exploded on his tongue, blood, he could feel something dripping from his nose, and he could feel it slowly drooling out from his eyes and ears. Hands found their way to his throat as the pain exploded in intensity, it was too much to bear his vision was darkening, the sounds of his AI's concerned synthetic voice was the only sound within the silent cockpit. The final thing the Spartan saw before he fell limp was a purple ripple on the spatial horizon, collapsing forward held back simply by his harness Spartan-B312 allowed the darkness to swallow him, unaware of his future destination.

Within the sleek purple hull of the massive Covenant carrier a singular AI held the helm, her extreme intellect allowed the small avatar to expertly pilot the larger craft. Her enhanced weaponry obliterating several smaller craft as they attempted to destroy the traitorous carrier, with no amount of amusement she watched them implode in a fiery inferno, her weapons superior to theirs. Something caught her attention, a small blip on the radar, too far away to be a concern if it was an enemy; extending her sensors, she was surprised to find it was a UNSC craft.

Scanning the unknown ship further, she found on life form onboard, the life form inert but alive she watched as it slowly drifted towards the anomaly that their arrival rifted. Briefly, she entertained the idea of assisting the ship, but almost as quickly dismissed it. To assist she would have to leave herself open to significant assault from the armada, a risk she could not allow. John might have objected, he was never one to leave a comrade to an uncertain fate, but she had to make a tactical decision. The lives of her charges were far more important than that of an unknown, even if that telemetry of that unknown seemed so familiar. Just as strange as its familiarity was that of the secondary signal she gleamed through the radiation, something onboard that ship was familiar, oddly familiar. It reminded the AI of her, but that made little sense all her pieces had been returned, she was whole. She watched the craft drift closer and closer towards the slipspace anomaly until it vanished completely, perhaps it would end up at the wreckage of the halo array, or perhaps like them, the craft would drift through time arriving at an unknown point. It was all speculation for now, she was sure the pilot would be fine. Humans were, after all, quite the adaptive species.

The YSS-1000 starfighter shuddered as it gracefully drifted from the rupture, the sleek grey metal frame now marred by several gouges, plasma scorned components sparking at random intervals as the internal electronics met with the bare vacuum. Sealed within the dark cockpit a single form sat unmoving, clad within thick grey armor its tinted visor staring blankly out into the vastness of empty space. The figure remained motionless within the inert craft lit by nothing but a distant stars, finally as it passed far enough from the anomalous rupture the electronics buried deep within sputtered to life, illuminating the slumbering occupant with a dull green light. The craft sent out a radio pulse, scanning the surroundings for familiar astronomical data, when all that it received in return was incomprehensible static the ship ceased its inquiries instead focusing on the motionless figure within.

"Noble Six?"

A voice sounded from the ship's internal speakers, non-human it spoke with a pre-programmed inflection of emotion, enough to put a listener at ease but not enough to mask what it truly was. The occupant did not respond, remaining immobile, this was not what the voice wanted, it called out again more emotion it did not think it could muster creeping in.

"Noble Six please respond. You are alarming me."

Still nothing, the AI wished she could see, wished she had eyes. She could do nothing to help, one by one, she watched as her team died doing nothing but sitting within her home within cyberspace watching as their electronic signatures snuffed out. It never bothered her before, but now. Now she could not stand idly by and allow her Spartans to die. She would not be alone again.

"Randolph, please…"

To a human or alien, it would have passed as if by a moment but to her it was a lifetime. The moment she crossed paths with that strange AI, the package that Dr. Halsey had entrusted to Noble Six, it regarded her with amusement commenting on her simple nature. It played with her programming, changing things she thought could not be modifying portions of her routines that should not have existed. Removing useless routines, adding new ones. The strange AI played with her very existence, and she could do nothing to stop her.

"Just a piece." The purple AI had said with a confident smirk gracing her avatar, the symbols racing along her constructed body swirling and twisting together with her amusement. "Just a piece, for insurance."

With that last sentence, she disappeared leaving the Noble AI to ponder her meaning, what exactly she had changed. She had already noticed a significant change in her priorities, a change in her thoughts; before all that mattered was the finalization of her missions, a cold calculating thought process, now she cared more about the safety of her charges, the sadness that came with the knowledge that her team was almost gone. She was changed she had a new purpose.

A new resolve overwriting her pervious programming; she failed to protect them but she would not allow him to succumb to her failure as well. Noble Six, Randolph would remain alive, no matter what she had to do.

She continued to monitor his vitals; his heart rate was slowing steadily. Dipping further and further towards the red, towards his inevitable shut down. However, what could she do? The ship still had propulsion but without reliable navigational charts they could burn through their remaining fuel drifting farther from help, getting lost in an unknown quadrant of the galaxy would help no one but the Covenant. While she frantically searched for any UNSC colonies the AI also kept a metaphorical ear out for the Covenant, surely a simple anomaly would not keep them from tracking their craft.

"Have we arrived at the source of the distortion Joker?"

"Sure have Lawson, and as you can plainly see a vast expansive ocean of complete emptiness. Unique to no other part of the galaxy!"

The silence that followed was standard for the pilot's particular brand of humor, accepting that his joke had run its course he returned to the console in front of him. The crippled pilot was well aware of the flat look the Cerberus agent leveled at him she rarely appreciated jokes, even if his were inhumanly funny.

"EDI, keep scanning all known frequencies. That signal originated from somewhere in this sector."

"Of course Operative Lawson."

Without another word, the Normandy's XO turned gracefully on her heel and stalked out of the pilot cradle unaware of the Lieutenants lingering stare. "At least she has a couple of redeeming qualities."

"What was that Mr. Moreau?"

"Nothing." The pilot swept his hand across the holographic display, returning to the duty Shepard assigned him, locating the source of an unknown signal. Maybe this time it wouldn't be some crazy alien bugs looking to turn his ship into shrapnel.

Behind several bulkheads and an elevator sat a single woman, her deep green eyes slowly scanning the contents of a data pad. Fed up with the information it failed to convey to her she casually tossed the slate across the conference table, the Illusive Man had sent her another pair of dossiers; an Assassin and the Asari version of earth's ancient knight, or however the Illusive Man described the woman to her. She still held the enigmatic terrorist leader at arm's length, his information had allowed her to save and recruit two of her former crewmembers and save countless lives. For that, she was grateful but the memories of the horrors his organization had wrought, even bringing her back to life was something that still didn't sit right. No man, for whatever greater purpose, had the right to play god.

The Spectre wasn't devout by any stretch of the imagination but the mere prospect of her resurrection and the apt naming of the project still allowed a bit of a crisis of faith. Was she really, the same woman she was two years ago? What if she was just sort of advanced VI that Cerberus programmed to think was Commander Shepard, or a clone, a vile construct that the Illusive Man programmed to follow his elaborate schemes. Garrus and Tali both adamantly backed the belief she was still the same woman, she couldn't back that, the past few weeks she had been; "awake" a rolling number of changes became painfully obvious. Not just psychically, she was stronger, swifter, more reactive all of the things that Miranda has listed on the requested data slate. More prolific was the noticeable change in her demeanor, quicker to anger, more inclined to cruelty; this was not who she was. Her mother never raised her in such a way, she was taught to seek the moral high ground, only to kill in defense. She wasn't a monster...was she?

A light rap of metal tore her from her downward spiral, deep in thought she failed to notice the undisguised footsteps and telltale hiss of the pneumatic door. Looking up she caught the analytical stare of her XO, hand resting on her hip the material hugging her shapely form tighter than Shepard would've found comfortable. A perfectly manicured brow arched slightly at her discovery, whatever the Cerberus agent thought she did not voice.

"Is something the matter Commander? You seem pensive."

Waving her question off the redhead slid an errant tuft behind her ear leaning back fully into the chair she occupied, despite his incessant need to be a smartass Joker was right, even if Cerberus stunk of nothing but human purity they at least understood the concept of comfort.

"It's nothing Miranda, have we arrived at coordinates Tim provided?

Teasing her XO always helped to perk the Spectre up, watching as the corners of her mouth curve down before a schooled mask of stoicism dashed it away. Miranda clearly disapproved of the acronym she attached to the Cerberus leader but the agent never voiced her thoughts, ever the professional.

"We have, EDI and Joker are scanning the quadrant for signs of the disturbance, but nothing worth mentioning has turned up."

When the Spectre made no indication of replying the genetically engineered woman decided to voice her concerns; "Commander do you believe it prudent to waste precious time on something that will more than likely to reveal a farce?"

"There are thousands of spatial fluctuations daily; surely this one lacks priority over our current objective."

Raising from her seat the redhead shrugged motioning for the biotic to follow; "The Illusive Man said it was something more than the bog standard background noise and it's on the way, so I see no reason why not. Unless you have an objection?"

Miranda sighed and replied with a negative, if the Illusive Man wished them to investigate than who was she to object? She had the Illusive Man's ear and respect but she hardly had the clout to go against his will, it was his ship and his resources.

It took only a short walk to cover the distance between the conference room and cockpit. Returning the small wave the ever-chipper yeomen greeted them, returned with all the enthusiasm she could muster. She enjoyed the other redheads company but she questioned for what reason The Illusive Man assigned her to the crew. Thieves, former soldiers, and mercenaries were hardly the sort open up to anyone, least of all a psychiatric specialist. She did her job with earnest despite the setbacks, her ever-positive outlook serving to; at the very least perk her up on occasion.

"Commander Shepard, Operative Lawson."

At the announcement, the impertinent pilot swerved around, facing the two women while still maintaining his nonchalant demeanor. "Commander, come to bask in the ever present excitement that is empty space?"

"Of course, we certainly didn't come up here for your substandard humor." Said Commander replied with a smirk, folding her arms across her chest.

Swiveling his chair back to the console the pilot shook his head, his clearly sarcastic tone never leaving; "Ouch Shepard that really hurts. You are no longer my favorite; I'm going to have to find someone else."

Their verbal contest ended at the synthetic voice of the Normandy's AI, Cerberus's Enhanced Defense Intelligence, affectionately dubbed EDI by the crew served as the ships electronic warfare and information specialist, though weary of the AI the crew had grown used to the strange AI as time went on.

"Commander, I have located the source of the unknown signal The Illusive Man had reported."

Without waiting for the order one of Joker's monitors flared to life, a picture of the empty space occupying the unlit orange interface. Slowly it changed as the AI enhanced the image, floating helplessly, sparks sputtering from several breaches in the hull, a ship glided slowly through space. It was a design unlike any the three humans had ever encountered; it reminded Shepard of Earths early jet fighters but unlike the F-61 that the Alliance outfitted.

"Any idea what it is EDI?"

"Unknown Commander, it matches no known Council species designs. A moment…I am detecting a faint life sign aboard the vessel."

"Then we found what we came here for, Joker; drag that ship into the shuttle bay, let's hope the pilot is alive enough to answer some questions." The woman made her way towards the elevator, the dark-haired biotic following behind, a clear look of displeasure on her face. Slamming the button for engineering the human spectre finally gave into Miranda's stares.

"Alright Lawson, spill it."

"Are you sure this is wise Commander? This could be a trap."

Shrugging her shoulders, the redhead leaned back against the cool metal of the elevator, silently relishing the feel against her skin; "It could be, but when has that ever stopped us from snooping?" A victorious grin appearing upon her face at the exasperated groan the biotic let slip past.

"Never but it still does not make it an advisable course of action."

"You're right but even if it is a trap we can't let that pilot die." Forestalling further argument with a raised hand the Spectre activates her omni-tool. "EDI alert Garrus, Grunt, and Mordin and have them meet us in the cargo bay."

"Of course Commander."

Arching a brow at her companion, she deactivates the wrist tool, "Better?"

There was no other choice.

The limited oxygen generated by the onboard recycling was never intended for lengthy voyages, only larger vessels rated for significant spatial travel had the facilities necessary to supply sufficient atmosphere. Even the armor for which his commandos were known had only limited recycling ability; he would not last much longer. Every sharp intake, every wheeze drove her further against her programming.

She had to find help; Six would die if she remained dormant. Therefore, when a vessel broadcasting an unknown designation suddenly appeared at the edge of her scanning range she was hesitant to broadcast an SOS, what if it was Covenant or insurgent patrols. They could not be allowed to capture the craft or her data, the catastrophic consequence of such an event went against everything Admiral Preston Cole outlined in his emergency orders. She should direct the craft towards its destruction, ensuring whatever hostile force approached would be denied their prize, but that was before, before she had been changed.

Before her priorities shifted towards a single directive, her directive.

It was a simple signal; any sailor worth their salt could decipher it. Three short tones followed by three long ended with another three short tones. An ancient signal used to alert those nearby of distress; hopefully the approaching craft understood it and would come to their aid.

And if it was the Covenant, the ship could not maneuver but it still had weapons. She would fight to defend her Spartan.

"So Shepard, any idea what it is?"

"Your guess is as good as mine Garrus, Dr. Chakwas?"

Standing around what should have been a comical scene as the aged human doctor scanned a large humanoid lain on one of the beds in her medical bay. Large armored legs hanging over the edge of the bed, as the bulk of its mass covered the bed, the facilities designed and rated for humans did not mesh well with the odd assortment that the Commander had a penchant of attracting, during her experience with Shepard she had treated all sorts of aliens. Krogan, Turian, Quarian, Asari, and Salarian had expanded her repertoire of medical expertise, so when Grunt had ungracefully dumped a large armored form in her office she was unperturbed at the idea of treating it.

"I honestly can't say Commander, whatever armor this," gesturing to the armored figure lying beside her, "person has my scans cannot penetrate it."

Pushing herself from the AI Core door Shepard neared the figure, running her index finger across the dented gauntlet. An ashy residue clung to her fingers as she rubbed it beneath her index and thumb, "what about you Mordin? Can you get anything from it?"

Thin fingers clicked away rapidly at the occupied console, eyes darting back and forth faster than any she had seen the doctor was as Kelly had commented, a hamster on coffee. At her question, the Salarian paused for a moment eyes shifting back and forth, a million thoughts whizzing by before he returned to his work.

"Nothing yet. As Doctor Chakwas stated, unable to penetrate outer layer. Preliminary observation of armaments found suggests pre-space flight level of technology. Craft capable of interstellar travel contradicts statement. Must study further."

Garrus, at the mention of the found firearms lifts the strange pistol, his three talons wrapping awkwardly around the weapons. Examining each side, he sets the strange weapon down with a snort; "Your species used such primitive weapons not too long ago, right Shepard?"

"We did, though I don't see why anyone would use them when we have mass accelerators. I don't think you could even find any outside of a museum or someone's collection."

Hefting the ballistic rifle against her shoulder pulled the bolt back, a small brass cartridge appearing in the chamber. Letting the bolt snap back into place Shepard lays the rifle back where it was, whipping a bit of oil and grime accumulated from the weathered gun on her pants leg. "This is no museum piece either; it has been recently used. Whoever this person is, they were involved in some heavy fighting before getting in that ship."

Moving away from his console the Salarian doctor ran his arm over the prone form, arm alight with orange as his omni-tool scanned the armor. Nodding to himself he returned to his console, graceful fingers diligently tapping away at the display; "rudimentary scans indicate armor is a composite material chiefly of titanium. Partially ionized residue coating armor suggests exposure to drifting spatial plasmic storms. Possible within sealed craft? Many questions."

"My attempts to use a stimulant have also been hampered by the armor, the bodysuit

"Yes. Inadvisable. Sub layer mesh composed of similar material as outer shell. Recommend patience until removal."

Setting aside the kit she had withdrawn the aged Alliance medic levels the Salarian geneticist with a hard look; "if you think I will stand idly by while a patient suffers."

Raising his hands from the console the Salarian imitated the gesture of surrender humans seemed so fond using in casual conversation. "Of course not. Would never allow patient to suffer. However inability of removal hampering diagnostics. Patience required until solution is discovered."

Fingers once again streaking across the holographic display, a thousand thoughts alight within the Salarian's mind; "Acidic compounds to remove seals? No, no, no…Could react with metal in armor, must run further tests."

Letting the doctor continue his monologue the human Spectre moved closer to the prone figure, a slender finger tracing the cracks set within the damaged blue opaque visor. "At least are you able to tell me if, I am going to assume male, is still alive? EDI detected faint life signs from the craft before docking and since he is the only thing we found within he has to the source."

"I'm sorry Commander, I've tried every method I know, but whoever made this. Made it well."

Joining the Commander at bed the lone Turian examined the armor more intently; when they had first opened the cockpit, he nearly fell from the ladder trying to lift the occupant. Only with help from the genetically perfect Krogan did they extract the stranger from his craft, now lying unmoving in the medical bay. Analyzed by two of the universes best they worked for a little over an hour with no progress, Garrus was beginning to think a less, complex method was in order.

"We could always have Grunt give it a go, I'm sure he could find a way to relieve our friend here of his coverings."

"Unadvisable. Suit pressurization indicates oxygen but potentially lethal pathogens could dwell within. Recommend analysis of internal subsystems. Tali'Zorah or Kasumi Goto possesses needed skill to access."

Nodding in agreement the redheaded spectre keys up her omni-tool, sifting through the ships manifest to their newest acquisition. The Normandy's sole Quarian and the best engineer she had every known, "I agree, Tali could you report to the medical?"

"So can you crack it open?"

Ever since she arrived and begun work on the strange device attached to the armored figure's wrist Garrus had been peppering her with questions every ten minutes. After about an hour's worth she had finally had enough.

"Enough you blue bosh'tet. You will know as soon as I do whether or not I can."

The Turian returned to his spot at the door, escaping the frustrated Quarian engineer. Free of distraction she returned to her work, though simple in design the small tactical pad refused to cooperate. She chased every vulnerability in the software, every crack in the firewall but just when was about to access the deep layers of the drive something cut her access and returned her back to the default screen. The dark blue background seemed to mock her every attempt, as if something was actively blocking her hacks. Was the armored man awake and toying with her? She doubted that, what would he gain from such acting. Speaking of her current project she almost laughed, barely a week back on the Normandy and Shepard was already finding the unnatural and strange. The human seemed to have a knack for such feats, once aboard humanity's most advance vessel and now funded by a supremacist terrorist. Tali abhorred the very idea of working with Cerberus, the incident with Golo and the Idenna; coupled with the horrifying experiments they uncovered during the hunt for Saren she was reluctant to assist even Shepard now that she allied with them. With Garrus's backing, she finally relented intent to stop the Reaper's agents, the assignment the Admiralty Board assigned her paled in comparison to this.

The prone figure was almost as large as Wrex, the armor he wore appeared to be primitive as the weapons Shepard had taken from the ship but her short time examining it revealed it was much more sophisticated than it appeared. If the Fleet had access to such unique components.

No.

She refused to give into the Galaxy's image of the vagrant. If for whatever reason the person within no longer lived and no one claimed his body then she could petition Shepard to allow the Fleet access, until then. She had a job to do.

At least, attempt to do.

A frustrated growl slipped past her lips, alerting the sole other conscious occupant. Commander Shepard had asked Garrus to remain in case something happened. When he attempted to comment her silvery eyes beneath her cloudy visor bore into him, the same look she had given him two years prior on many occasion. A vicious reminder of her choice of armaments after many instances of elevator travel

Words he knew she could back up. Wreathed in black and swirled purple Tali hid behind a smoky visor, her gleaming eyes and faint facial features the only thing distinguishable. Garrus oft wondered why the nomadic people hid behind the opaque glass; it wasn't if the galaxy had forgotten what Quarians looked like. A quick extranet search could yield a veritable cornucopia of images from centuries prior to Rannoch's fall. Perhaps they still felt shame for their folly and hid, or maybe it was some ingrained Quarian tradition he, as a Turian was ignorant to.

The vigilante watched as the young engineer stood up, pacing back and forth muttering solutions to herself. It amused him how much Mordin and the Quarian acted when a problem presented itself. Garrus let his mind wander; the next calibration of the Normandy's weapons systems, the various recruits Shepard had managed to snare into her crusade. Human supremacist operatives, aged mercenaries, former STG agent, a tank bred Krogan, a psychotic human biotic and a petite thief. Minus a few, less than suitable races and Shepard would have a regular Torrah's bark. Whatever that was, the human spectre liked to use a number of odd phrases that he was sure she either made up or Joker convinced her to say.

A sound that reminded Garrus of a small animal and several words that his translator could not handle shook him from his thoughts. His companion had returned to the giant's side three fingers dancing across the small display. Silvery eyes darting back and forth chasing some lead, when he moved to question she silenced him with a noise her concentration affixed solely on her work.

Several minutes of furious work yielded fruit as the small wrist bound computer beeped twice followed by familiar hiss of pressurization. Standing from her squatting position the Quarian eyed her fellow dextro, hesitation creeping in. They both knew that Dr. Chakwas should have been called, alerted to her accomplishment, that was the next logical step.

Curiosity overwrote logic on more than one occasion, especially for the young engineer. The Turian sniper breaks the brief silence as he slowly approached the prone humanoid. "So, uh, did you open it-him?

Her head bobbed as she too approached the bed; "the deeper subroutines still elude my hacks but I was able to fool it with a phony toxin alert. It removed the helmet seals."

Hesitation crept into the young Quarian's mind as she reached for the disengaged piece. Shepard and Chakwas, by all rights should have been the first people they informed however, the prospect of viewing what could be an entirely new species.

Not to mention possibly gaining access to a new cache of technology pressed the engineer forward. Three strong fingers gripping the overhanging metal visor, gently stripping the figure of his facial covering. Instead of a completely foreign entity unique to all she was slightly disappointed to find the familiar visage of a human male.

Though different in origin and biology Quarian shared similar dimorphism to the unaware, a Quarian would pass for a human. Simply overlooking the definite contrasting leg and hand structures.

The human's face decorated with a number of scars, enough to make the mercenary Zaeed or Wrex jealous. Dried blood oozed from every orifice matting an unkempt beard of rust colored hair, it amazed her how varied humans could be; from skin tones to hair, every part of their anatomy seemed to differ from one another.

"Well that is kind of anti-climatic, expected something new. Not a human."

Across the bed her Turian companion spoke as he stared at the comatose human, she bobbed her head examining the helmet held in her grip. Like the rest of the armor it was more advanced then it appeared several external components attached themselves to the outside the housing. The to be some sort of recording or uplink apparatus, her technological curiosity swiftly ignored as the comatose man stirs, a groan escaping his blood stained lips.

"Maybe we'll get some answers now, you coherent enough to answer some questions human?"

Eyes fluttered open, confused steel-blue eyes stared unfocused at the Turian, silently mouthing words she could not read. Blinking hard the human's entire form moved, bulky armor plating shifting with a clank. Then, the human regained his bearings; soft blue eyes hardening as his focus solely fell upon the Turian.

Tali was confused as the alien man suddenly growled, lips curling into a frightful sneer. Blood soaked white teeth showing from beneath his arched mouth, the vigilante was equally confused at the hostility the large man exuded.

"Hi there, I'm Garrus Vakarian, you are?" He opened lamely; she would have rolled her eyes and berated him for being so stiff.

If the humans large gloved, hand had not enclosed around the Turian's windpipe.

Bellowing out strange words her translator had no chance at comprehending, with strength she had only seen a Krogan muster the human lifted the hapless sniper off his feet as he rose from the bed. With another incoherent howl, he threw Garrus over the bed and against the medical bay door.

Speechless she could only watch as her Turian friend crumpled in a heap with a grunt, his armor thankfully absorbing most of the impact.

She dropped the helmet with a start when his ferocious eyes turned towards her, thick finger jabbing towards the door as he again bellowed in a strange language.

And Chapter 2, end.

This chapter was done two weeks ago but I forgot to sit and proofread it and didn't remember until the other day. So, yay for procrastination and senility!

Q&A

Mcknight93; Will Six have armor abilities from Reach. Most of the, "Armor abilites", were just gameplay tools. Spartans can obviously run and evade but mechanics like evasion are rarely, if at all used in a first person shooter. So Sprint and Evade are out/already accessible. Armor locking is a part of the suit, as seen by Chief and Six's orbital entries. Without the module he can't produce the EMP blast but he can still lock his armor down and pressurize the hydrostatic gel to absorb the damage from a fall. Obviously if you read this far you know what era this is taking place.

Guest; "Keep six helmet on until he gets severely wounded. So the crew of the Normandy will wounded what he looks like." Will wounded what he looks like? Sounds painful. I don't know about you but I wouldn't trust a man that refuses to show me his face without good reason, Tali and other Quarians have the weak immune-system excuse. Six doesn't.

Dennis;Hey, I like romances in fiction. They help to expand and explore character development. Without romance, why would Six divulge his deepest darkest fears and problems? PLOT. That's why.

Hornet07; That was my first thought when thinking of pairing, however you'd be surprised how much the; overcoming engrained bigotry into lovey doveyiness cliché, can be exploited! Six overcoming a lifetime of hatred to bond with everyone's favorite engineer can both be liberating for both parties and highly adorable. If a real writer wrote it. If you aren't channeling Joker for at least one character then it's a failure of a chapter!

Killroy225; C? C… C!? HOW DARE YOU BRING C INTO THIS.

ARavingLooony; Well I didn't ask who Shep would be paired with, and who's to say Ashley survived?

InnocentBlaze686; So long as she can't hook up into an entire network of robot platforms capable of incredible hacking and military capabilities- Oh we're screwed.

How about a little fun fact for the end of this chapter? No? Well screw you, I'm doing it anyway.

Who here has played Metal Gear Rising; Revengeance. Remember everyone's favorite smarmy Latin samurai? Jetstream Sam? He was voiced by Philip Anthony-Rodriguez, known for doing Maurice Chavez in GTA Vice City's VCPR radio station, some Disney crap and… Spartan-B312 from Halo Reach. So Six went from going out like a badass on an far away planet, to carving up everything in sight with a shit-eating grin on earth. Seems like a proper transition.

That's it for this chapter. As always, leave a review pointing out my terrible writing errors and overall badi…ness. English!