Chapter 2 – Explanations, Queries, and Intrigue… Oh My.

Author's notes-11/30/18 Tweak: Continuing my larger tweaks of the earlier chapters. Just trying to level up the writing style to that of the latest chapters.

"Cake is not the issue here." – Terry Pratchett, The Last Continent

Disclaimer – I own nothing of Halo or Mass Effect…. Unfortunately XD

(New Beginnings, Habits, Differing Opinions, A Sneaking Suspicion, Welcome Aboard, Say What Now?, Proof, Rain Delay)

"Drop your weapons and turn around slowly." The voice was harsh, commanding, and brooked no mistakes. Not wanting to provoke the man with the readied gun, Shepard did as he was bid, dropping his weapon and turning around; Miranda and Mordin followed suit. The sight that greeted him was completely unexpected.

The being pointing the firearm at his crew was easily head and shoulders taller than them and covered from crown to toe in green and black armor. Its face was completely obscured by a gold visor and its armor was covered with burns and dents, and whatever the hell this was, it seemed to mean business.

And, regaining his composure faster than his squad mates, the ex-Spectre attempted to disarm the situation.

"I'm Commander Shepard, and you are?" he prompted invitingly, forgoing the extension of a hand to shake just in case it seemed like he was trying to make a move.

"Master Chief Petty Officer Spartan – 117. What is your affiliation?"

Well now, that just wasn't much of a name at all now as it? And, maybe it was the lack of sleep, maybe it was the seemingly endless ranks of mercenaries, or maybe it was simply that his armor was too tight, but the Commander didn't feel like being kicked around by some faceless armored behemoth and decided to test fate.

"…Let's try this again. I'm Commander Shepard, and you are?" The green clad being cocked Grunt's shotgun. It was not amused, test failed. "Well, I used to be with the Alliance military, but now I work with Cerberus. Now, could I please get a name, a race, or something?"

"Human. What is 'the Alliance' or 'Cerberus'. Are you insurrectionists? I need to contact the UNSC." The nonsensical words hit Shepard like a hammer stroke.

He's never heard of the Human Alliance? Where's this guy from? Shepard's mind swirled with questions, too many to count. "Well I've never heard of this 'UNSC' or of any 'Insurrectionists' … Look, we came here in response to the ship's distress beacon. Now, we can sit here and have a one-sided argument with you pointing that gun at my squad and me, or we can speak like civilized people on my ship. The working one, I might add."

Shepard paused, waiting for some kind of reaction from the armed human, but he felt as if he might as well have just growled at a wall.

"At least it would give me awhile to check on my crew that you knocked out. Hell, we might even be able to give you a ride."

At the mention of the once again floating krogan and biotic, the Master Chief lowered his weapon, walked past Shepard, and over to the tube that Garrus was currently frozen in. Placing the weapon on his back, the huge human hit a button on the display and the tube began to open.

"They attacked, I reacted. My goal was not to kill them," admitted the Chief simply.

Shepard looked around the room once more, more than a little surprise evident on his face as he did so; it was one hell of a reaction. It was always harder to try and stun an individual than it was to kill one, and the fact that this Master Chief had knocked out three of his best and was still walking around calmly spoke volumes of his abilities.

Leaving the now thawing Garrus, the Spartan walked over to a pedestal in the room, removed a chip, and placed it in his helmet.

This day might turn out better than I thought, contemplated Shepard as visions of recruitment flashed through his head. "I will have my ship dock with yours. I'll be waiting to greet you when you're ready."

The Spartan gave a slight nod in response, and made off down the corridor, leaving Shepard to take care of a cranky turian and two unconscious killers. He moved to go help them, and Miranda and Mordin, having just recovered their senses, turned to help.

The relative silence lasted for only moments, however, as Mordin's hyper active mind kicked back into high gear.

OOOO

"Well, that could have gone better," said Cortana, speaking for the first time since being put back into his helmet. "Is mortal combat your personal handshake now? You sure you don't want to knock the others out as well? You know… give them a fond gauntleted hello."

"They were armed and unknown," stated the massive human with a shrug that seemed to quietly add 'My training kicked in.' He smiled a small private smile, glad to hear his friend's voice again. "You could have woken me sooner."

"Your tube was a little buggy at first. I had to fix it, which took longer than expected," replied Cortana reluctantly as she sighed. "We have to show a few more manners if we're going to get off this space hunk. That means you can't go around pacifying every new alien you meet –"

Cortana trailed off as the Spartan reached the armory, knowing her words would soon fall on deaf ears. The chamber was in a state of disarray. Weapons that would normally be locked into the racks were floating about the room unfettered. There was a surprising amount of Covenant weapons scattered across the room. The Spartan even noted a pair of plasma swords in the mix.

Some of the lockers were ripped open, spewing forth repair kits and power packs of all sizes. With these he could possibly keep his MJOLNIR armor going through all but the most grievous situations.

"Chief, I have a feeling that we won't be coming back any time soon, and that gun you picked up is like nothing I've ever seen before. I doubt that they will have the ammunition that you need. If you're going to take anything with you, try to stick with the energy weapons."

John slowly took the MA5C assault rifle off his back and cast the well-worn weapon aside. There had been one point in his life as a soldier where he would have thought twice before choosing alien weapons. He preferred the more familiar human ones, but times changed, and fighting a losing war was nothing if not a cause for adaptation.

He saw a pair of duffel bags at the end of the room and silently made his way toward them, taking stock of what he might choose along the way. The bags were large enough to hold all he would need for months. He paused and gazed around the room, deciding where to begin.

"Sorry to kill the moment, caveman, but our ride isn't going to wait forever," interrupted the AI, impatiently. "…. Besides, I'd start with the laser."

She knew him too well, and, with another small private smile, he set about his work.

OOOO

The turian was not happy.

This perhaps could not have been stressed any more. Mere seconds after the Spartan's departure, Garrus had begun to shift about the tube. His skin was on fire, and, although he didn't know the name, he was quickly learning the effects of 'freezer burn.' He opened his eyes, fully expecting to see that armored being again, but was pleasantly surprised when Shepard offered his hand to help him out of the cylinder.

"Wha-what happened," he asked biting back the burning sensation that was announcing its presence everywhere.

"You guys got your asses kicked," replied Shepard nonchalantly.

"What… oh, yeah. There were dozens of them. They just came out of nowhere. No possible way to fend them off. I-"

"Nice try, but we already saw him," interrupted the Commander, decisively ending the turian's rant.

"Well, it was worth a shot," said Garrus sighing. "Looks like Grunt and Jack didn't fare much better. How did you stop it?"

"We asked him nicely not to freeze us."

"Ha h- ow. My face hasn't hurt this bad since I was shot. I keep telling you not to make me laugh."

"Sorry, couldn't help myself with that one."

"How did you stop it though? I only saw it for a bit before the tank froze me, but I've never seen anything move that fast."

"He didn't attack us. This is why you don't surprise people who are waking up... Anyway, he went further into the ship to grab some things. We're going to give him a ride… I think…. at the very least."

"As long as he doesn't try to shove me into a freezer again, then I'll be fine, can't say the same for those two however," he admitted as he gestured over to the two prone killers where Miranda and Mordin were trying to rouse them.

"When I saw it, it looked human. Is it? He?" asked Garrus inquisitively. Before Shepard could answer however, Miranda decided to enter the conversation.

"Oh, he's human, but larger than any I've ever seen. He had no idea what Cerberus or the Alliance was. That's not right. He called himself the Master Chief." Miranda was frustrated. There were few things that she didn't know, and fewer still that she couldn't eventually figure out, but each time she was faced with one of these unlikely scenarios, it seemed to pull at some overly taut internal thread that was unfortunately tied to her anger impulse.

"He doesn't know about the human Alliance?" asked Garrus, his mandibles opening in surprise.

"Humans have larger genetic variety," interjected the salarian as he continued to treat Jack. "Quite possible for specimen to have grown to size, however rare. Swiftness of takedowns suggest specialized instruction. Agreed, lack of knowledge pertaining to human organizations troubling. Could be lost human colony. No, doesn't explain lack of eezo. Perhaps lost memory during hibernation. Regardless, should ask subject upon arrival. Will clear up matters nicel-"

Grunt began to twitch and mumble, causing Garrus and the rest of the squad to instinctively back away from the krogan berserker, none wanting to be to close when he snapped back to full consciousness.

Suddenly, the large lizard launched himself to his feet, growling and preparing to take out an enemy that was long gone with weapons that weren't there. And, the entire sight might very well have been amusing to Garrus had it not involved the impulsive lizard.

"Easy... easy... He's gone," said Shepard cautiously as he tentatively approached the confused krogan, fingering his pistol just in case it seemed. The large alien continued to rage, smashing into tubes and nearly stepping on Jack.

Well, we figured he would snap eventually, thought Garrus, preparing his sniper rifle as he continued to back away for 'effective range'.

"Grunt, stand down. That's an order." The sterner voice seemed to pierce the krogan's blood rage. Gazing around the room, Grunt reached once again for his missing weapons, their absence elicited a low growl.

"Shepard, where are my guns?" growled the angry Krogan. "Did IT take them?"

"He took your shotgun, but your assault rifle is right here." Shepard bent down, picked up the gun from the pile, and brought it to the large alien, holding the weapon like a peace offering.

"I want to kill him. That's my gun," stated Grunt as he tore the firearm from Shepard.

He's twitching again. Damn krogan really means it, thought Garrus bitterly.

"No one's killing anyone for right now unless I say so. Alright?" yelled the ex-Spectre, beginning to grow impatient.

"As you wish, battlemaster," abated Grunt reluctantly. Silence filled the comm, none seeking to stir up that precariously stabilized situation. Mordin walked back over to Jack to check on the unconscious psychopath, but there seemed to be no change.

"Joker," continued Shepard as he hailed the Normandy, "I'm sending the shuttle back to you, bring the Normandy to dock with the ship."

"Aye Commander. Find anything interesting?"

"A survivor, I'll tell you more when you get here."

"Oh, a new puppy? You really should stop finding strays. We're barely able to feed the ones we have-"

"Joker… just get here," said Shepard as the man cut the feed. "Smart ass. Grunt, get Jack, we're heading back to the shuttle."

Growling, Grunt did as he was told, pulling up alongside Garrus as they left the Cryo-bay. And, perhaps sensing that now might be another good time for the whole comradery thing with the young berserker, the turian gave him a pat on the back, if somewhat tentatively.

"Don't worry; we'll get your gun back."

OOOO

After docking with the ghost ship, Joker was left with nothing to do. He restlessly adjusted and readjusted the navigation controls out of sheer nervousness. This ship was giving him the creeps.

Trying to keep himself calm, Joker took a deep breath and began counting to clear his mind.

One – one thousand. Two – one thousand. Three – one thousand…

"Is something wrong, Mr. Moreau?" asked EDI abruptly as her avatar quickly flickered to life beside him, its sudden appearance causing him to jump in his seat.

"I'm fine, just fine. Go back to calculating pi…. or something…." Just what he needed right now.

At the Alliance training center, his flight instructor had always said "Your ship is your life. Show her respect, and she will return it." Well, he never had to deal with a ship that could actually talk back!

"Mr. Moreau, your actions show signs of stress and nervousness. Commander Shepard has set a timetable for withdrawal and the survivor is no longer hostile. There is no logical need for such emotions."

"Oh really? If I wanted a psych evaluation, I would have asked Kelly, not some 2-bit holo-pad with a thesaurus. Besides, I can handle myself just find."

"As you wish," replied the AI in a flat voice. "Shepard is hailing the ship, patching him through."

"Nice going on the park job, Joker. Open the hatch, we'll be there shortly," radioed the Commander.

"Great," replied Joker raggedly.

One – one thousand…

OOOO

"Keep going to the end of this hallway. Our guests have parked in the forward hanger bay," directed Cortana, as the Chief made his way through the Dawn, laden with his plunder from the armory. Following the AI's advice, the Spartan had chosen mostly Covenant plasma weapons. A trio of plasma rifles and pistols along with a crate of plasma grenades filled one of the duffle bags, while the other was devoted solely to armor repair.

He had armed himself with a pair of plasma swords, the exotic shotgun, and a Spartan Laser as well. As friendly as this Commander had seemed, his finely-honed Spartan instincts screamed at him to be prepared, and a good soldier never ignored his instincts.

The hanger door loomed ahead of him; however, before the large man could move through it, a thought occurred to him, halting him in his tracks.

"What's wrong?" asked the AI in a curious but ultimately impatient voice. He could feel her angst, it only made sense. She was close to possibly interacting with new technology, and he was holding her up, but there was protocol to follow.

"We're leaving the Dawn," mentioned the Spartan simply, knowing by that statement alone that the artificial intelligence understood his meaning.

"I began taking the necessary steps the moment our guests walked aboard," replied Cortana casually, as if it were as natural as targeting solutions for a MAC for her. "Data scrubbers have already purged all relevant data from systems."

"And the self-destruct?" asked John out of obligation more than actual inquisitiveness.

"Subroutines have been mapped and the proximity fuse is primed for three hours after departure," retorted the sentient program haughtily. If she were visible, this would be the point where her hands would be akimbo and she'd start giving him that look. "Really, you act as if I don't have this etched into my core code."

"Just checking," answered the super soldier with an inaudible chuckle and then proceeded forward.

The door slid open slowly into the hanger bay, revealing a ship the likes of which the veteran soldier had never seen. UNSC ships tended to be blocky and efficient, even the ONI prowler, designed for stealth and recon, were not this flat. It seemed closer to covenant ships whose sleek and bulbous hulls were like some grandiose insect. This craft, however, was straight and smooth like a dart. The front half of the vessel stuck into the hanger, and three guards stood in front of the only door visible leading into the ship.

The Chief continued forward unperturbed, as if seeing three new alien races and a new faction of humans was an everyday occurrence. The same however could not be said for the guards. As the Spartan strode forward, the sentries shifted around nervously, drawing their weapons at the sight of the gigantic human.

"H-halt!" stammered one of the guards. His rifle brought up, ready to fire. The Master Chief dropped the bags where he was standing; he felt his muscles coil in anticipation for a possible fight. Suddenly, before events could escalate, the door on the ship opened and a voice broke over the radio.

"Stafford, Singer, Myers! Stand Down, he's cleared," spoke Commander Shepard gruffly. "Master Chief, please come inside. Welcome aboard the Normandy."

OOOO

"You weren't kidding when you said he was big," mumbled a disbelieving Joker as the pair watched on the monitor as the green and black clad human strolled into the airlock. "I'll have four of whatever he's taking."

Ignoring the jibe, the Commander shifted calmly over to the side hatch for their visitor.

"Uh, Commander, you do realize that the jolly green giant here looks like he is carrying enough weapons to put Jacob to shame, right?" Now that did raise a problem, and Shepard's mind was racing for ways to peacefully disarm the Master Chief.

Not like it will do much good, thought the Commander. If what Grunt and Garrus had said was true, then this guy was dangerous even without guns. And that was probably just another reason why he had made a point of changing into more diplomatic clothes. The less of a threat he seemed, the better. Besides, any true combat engineer worth his Omni-tool always had a few tricks up his sleeves.

The door to the airlock opened, and the Spartan's massive frame strode through, his impenetrable face plate scanning the interior before finally resting on the former Spectre. The black scars upon his armor and the blank gaze were slightly unnerving; it was as if he were staring into the face of some one – eyed monster. And just like that, suddenly his omni-tool felt strangely useless.

He needs our help, Shepard reminded himself, his confidence returning once again. "I see you felt free to bring half the ship with you, but I'm going to have to ask you to leave your weapons here."

The Spartan stared at him for a moment, before he dropped one of his bags.

Please don't let him attack.

The Commander had prepared for this eventuality, having Jacob and Thane close at hand, but he would prefer not to use them. Mostly because he'd have preferred using Grunt and Jack, but one was still unconscious and the other was liable to snap at the mere sight of the Chief.

The Spartan's hand hovered over a strange silver item hanging at his waist and remained motionless. On an impulse, Shepard prepared to motion for his protectors. He really didn't need this right now-

"The bags can stay. They will not be touched," replied the Chief in a tone of voice that would tolerate no argument.

"And the weapons you have on?"

"They're comin." The large human's tone was flat, as if stating a well-known fact. The Commander sighed, it wasn't completely what he wanted, but at least he had avoided a fight for now.

"Very well," replied Shepard as he turned and motioned for the Spartan to follow him, and if Jacob and Thane moving to flanking positions on either side of the Chief to serve as an escort bothered the giant, he didn't seem to show it.

The Commander led the way, preferring to talk in the privacy of the conference room. The doors shut behind them, cutting them off from the hustle and bustle of the rest of the ship.

Now came the fun part.

"Well, you obviously need our help to get off that space hunk of yours, so it would be rather nice if you answered a few questions for me," stated Shepard bluntly, to which the ex-Spectre received only a curt nod in reply. "Alright, where do you come from?"

"UNSC controlled space, 2552."

2552? thought Shepard, doing well to keep most of the disbelief from his face. Well, technically, if the man was somehow from the future, it could go a long way for explaining why his ship didn't have any eezo.

"You do realize that the current Earth date is 2185, right? And what is this UNSC you keep talking about?"

"The United Nations Space Command, established in 2163," stated the Chief calmly in his gravelly voice. "I have checked your extranet databases and I believe I have found the discrepancy."

"Please, do go on," replied the Commander, his mind still trying to wrap itself around all the current possibilities as the rest of him settled in to a stance more commonly known as 'this should be good.'

"I believe I am from an alternate reality."

"Really? Well, that's one that I haven't heard before…"

OOOO

Although the Chief didn't allow it to show in his voice or on his face, his mind was reeling from the information that Cortana had just divulged to him. She had infiltrated part of the ship's systems without alerting the Commander's AI and had opened a treasure trove of information to the duo.

The Spartan felt lost. Since he had woken up, he had been under the assumption that he would be able to contact the UNSC, to get back to normalcy. When Cortana suggested that there wouldn't be any going back, he suddenly realized he didn't know what to do. The Commander's voice, however, broke his trance.

"Would you care to explain that little theory of yours?" From what he could tell from Shepard's tone, he was just as surprised, among a few other things.

"Chief, you better start from the beginning," interrupted Cortana. "Although, I don't think you should mention me or our AI's. Their history shows a slight aversion to artificial intelligences."

"In my timeline, faster than light travel was not discovered until the year 2291," stated the Spartan succinctly. "We did not have first contact until 2525. Until the Covenant."

"And what is this Covenant?" asked Shepard.

"A collection of eight alien races devoted to their religion. They attacked at first contact…"

And with very little preamble, the Chief proceeded to tell the history of the Human-Covenant war. It was perhaps the longest speech he had ever given to a non-Spartan. It was the short version and left several details out, but it would give the Commander an idea of the conflict without revealing sensitive information. The Chief might not be able to get back to the UNSC, but giving up military secrets was hardly an option. He begrudgingly mentioned the Spartan project at Shepard's behest, but it was merely general information from the ONI moral boosters.

Commander Shepard, for his part, listened intently, his face a calm mask as he took in the Spartan's tale. As he finished, the ex-Spectre maintained his silence, and then finally sighed before speaking. The Spartan, however, could tell the answer before the Commander spoke.

He doesn't believe me. Of course, the Chief would have had trouble believing his own story, if he had not lived it.

"That's quite a tale, but that's all it remains. Words can only go so far. Can you offer any proof?"

Fortunately, Cortana had prepared for this. His MJOLNIR armor had extensive data logs of all of his past missions, and the AI could access these at will and choose the best sample.

"Chief, place your hand on the dash at the end of the table. I'll do the rest," stated Cortana confidently.

"My armor contains video logs. May I use the room's display?""

"This should be interesting," replied the Commander skeptically, stepping aside so that the Chief could get to the controls. The armored giant placed his hand upon the controls, and the holo-projector came to life.

OPEN RECORD VIEW (2552.11.17. 20.24.53 L)

SPARTAN 117

PLAY

A procession of warthogs was making its way through a tunnel. The view shifted all around, taking in all angles of the channel. The vehicles were approaching a large facility, and a female's voice broke over the radio.

"Chief, the Prophet of Truth has found the Ark. Our only chance of stopping him is a surprise aerial assault. Clear this sector of Covenant anti-air defenses, make a hole for the admiral's ships. Good hunting, Keyes out."

The vehicles pulled up to the large building, and all of the riders poured out. The camera moved towards a large set of blast doors. A gauntleted hand appeared in view and hit a button on the door, causing the massive gateway to open.

"Chief, you take point," shouted one of the soldiers. The camera moved further into the structure, its gaze lingering on a dead marine on the floor. The Master Chief moved up a set of stairs and down a hallway, a deep pious voice could be heard softly in the next room. The Spartan turned the corner and came face to face with a trio of jackals, but in the blink of an eye had charged forward and cracked two of the aliens with his assault rifle. The third tried to bring its shield to bear, but the veteran soldier riddled its scaly hide with holes.

At the appearance of the Jackals, the Commander visibly straightened and peered closer at the feed. The Chief had told him about the carnivorous aliens, but as he had thought, the man hadn't believed him.

The Chief vaulted off of the walkway and sprinted toward the next set of blast doors. A score of grunts and a lone brute opened fire upon the Demon. The Spartan's battle rifle began to bark, and invaders began to fall, their blue blood spattering the concrete. The marines soon joined the fray, and the small covenant patrol disintegrated.

FFW

Spartan – 117 was hurtling toward the wraith on a ghost. The smaller vehicle's weapons whined and discharged its bolts, but futilely splashed against its heavily armed opponent, a brute returned fire on a turret. The Covenant tank lowered its main gun readying to fire upon the nuisance, but the Chief continued upon his course and before the blob of superheated plasma could obliterate his ghost, he leaped from the seat landing with a crash upon the wraith's turret gunner.

The veteran soldier's massive weight stunned the brute, knocking its helmet off, but before it could recover a rifle butt smashed quickly into its head, silencing it forever. With the immediate threat taken care of, the camera gaze shifted to the tanks hatch, and the Chief moved until he was positioned directly over it. The Spartan's gauntleted hands pounded upon the entry denting it and then splitting it open. The enclosed brute's surprise lasted for only moments before a fragmentation grenade shredded apart the monster as well as the inside of the tank. Threat eliminated.

FFW

"– anby, something big closing in on your position," reported Sergeant Johnson gruffly. The Chief began to regroup with the remaining marines, their mongooses were charred and blackened by plasma fire, but were working fine. The ground began to shake. The view shifted, as the Spartan's gaze traveled up the wall of the large building.

"It's getting closer!"

"Scarab! Get some cover… NOW!" shouted the Sergeant. However, the Master Chief had already sprung into motion, grabbing a rocket launcher from a shocked marine. The Spartan was making a run for the large crane, he needed height and the crane would be all too happy to oblige.

The massive siege engine had crested the top of the building, its great gun glowing green like a monstrous eye. Its spidery legs settled upon the ground and the hunt was on.

The elevator reached the top of the crane just as the scarab began to pass underneath it, its main cannon firing at the marines swarming around it. The Chief broke into a headlong sprint and threw himself off of the scaffolding, landing with a metallic thud onto the Covenant war machine. Quickly, the armored giant put the rocket launcher to good use, cutting two brutes in half with a single rocket. The Spartan moved further along the assault platform, searching for its reactor.

His assault rifle cracked against the shielding, causing it to turn red. A second hit causing it to fail entirely. A rocket cracked the reactor's casing, causing the power plant to melt down.

The Chief made his way back toward the facility. There was more killing to do.

FFW

The hunters shuffled into the room over the burnt bodies of their victims, their armor clanking. Bullets pinged off their armor, the pair turned to assess the threat.

The Master Chief dove for cover as a fuel rod burst incinerated the space he had just occupied. The Spartan turned his gaze upon the Arbiter, who was making his way around the edge of the room to flank the walking tanks. Turning back to the scuffling behemoths, the Chief sprinted out of cover to distract them further.

As he ducked behind a wall, the Chief tossed a pair of grenades. The twin explosions thudded simultaneously, casting shrapnel and debris everywhere and generally pissing off the hunters. The duo howled a challenge and lowered their fuel rods, determined to destroy the demon. Their aim was thrown off, however, when a plasma grenade buffeted their exposed backs causing orange blood to pool on the floor.

A hunter turned to engage the forgotten Arbiter, but the behemoths were caught in a crossfire, and soon both of the large aliens were oozing viscous fluids from multiple wounds. With a final growl, the two bond – mates slumped to the ground.

Halt x

End Record View

OOOO

The Commander stood still contemplating everything he had just seen as he watched the Spartan. He hadn't expected evidence of that caliber. He knew that video evidence could be forged, but everything that he had just observed had seemed so real.

The man was a sole survivor, just like him. He'd lost his friends, been uprooted from everything he'd ever known, and yet he was so calm. Shepard had yet to hear a single emotion shine for more than a heartbeat within the man's voice, but he felt almost compelled to trust him.

Almost.

"There's one more thing I want to ask before I make any decision," said the ex-Spectre carefully. He had seen firsthand how dangerous this giant could be. "I want to see your face."

To truly know someone, you had to look into their eyes.

At first the Spartan did not respond or even move, his faceplate aimed directly at the Commander's visage. It appeared to be peeling him back layer by layer, trying to see what made him tick. It made him a little nervous. Finally, after what seemed to be hours, the Chief placed his hands upon his helmet, gave it a twist, and removed it.

Well, that's not what I expected, thought Shepard as he openly stared.

The Spartan's face was not nearly as attention grabbing as his size. Except for the almost ghostlike skin, the Master Chief looked rather average with his blue eyes and close-cropped brown hair. Small scars were scattered about his face, some of them as faint as surgical. His eyes were hard, revealing no emotion. The man's visage was like a stone, placid even when he began to speak.

"Satisfied?" asked the large human with his gravelly voice. The Commander nodded absentmindedly, and the Chief quickly replaced his helm. Shepard knew this was a man he could trust and if those videos were any indication, someone he could use as well.

"Well, with your war over, what are you going to do now? As far as I can figure, you can't really go back home," stated the ex-Spectre bluntly. The Spartan didn't answer, but Shepard understood completely. He's been fighting a war for the past twenty-seven years, a losing war at that. Anyone would be lost after that.

And, just like thatgears began to move in the combat engineer's head and a plan began to formulate. The Spartan was still thinking, when the Commander asked him another question.

"You said that a Spartan's goal was to protect humanity at any cost, right?" The Spartan nodded at this. "Then continue that here, in our universe. Human colonies are being wiped out, their inhabitants taken by a race called The Collectors. My team and I are going to stop them, but I'll take all the help I can get. What do you say?" Shepard let the offer hang in the air, his hand outstretched. He knew this man's type; they needed a goal, a purpose. Well, what could be better than continuing the same on in another setting?

"I'll help," replied the Spartan simply, grasping the outstretched hand with a solid grip.

"It's sealed then. Now to find you a place aboard the ship," said the Commander, as he turned toward the holo pad, but EDI's avatar appeared before he could summon her.

"Most rooms are taken, except the observation deck and the cargo bay," stated the AI.

"What? Nowhere else? –"

"The cargo bay will be fine," interrupted the Spartan.

"Suit yourself," said the ex – Spectre, slightly surprised that anyone would choose to live in a cargo bay. The Commander made his way out of the comm room and back toward the cockpit, the Spartan, Jacob, and Thane in tow. As they reached the prow of the Normandy, they found Miranda chatting lively to Joker, all the while edging closer to the Chief's bags.

She never listens, thought Shepard exasperatedly. "Miranda! I believe that those are the Master Chief's things." As if to emphasize the point, the Spartan strode over and reclaimed his property. "Jacob, show our new recruit around the Normandy. I'd suggest starting with the armory. Oh, and Chief, I would think of it as a personal favor if you gave Grunt back his shotgun. I'd rather not have an enraged Krogan on my ship."

As the two departed, the Commander turned upon his subordinate, letting a little anger show upon his face, however he might have well tried to cow a thresher maw.

"I thought I said that those bags were not to be touched," berated Shepard, giving up on staring down the Cerberus agent.

"I wasn't touching, I was looking," replied Miranda dryly, her face as impassive as stone. She began to stride by him, thinking the lecture was over.

"How much of my conversation did your bugs hear?" he asked innocently. The Commander knew that she had placed listening devices all over the ship. "Do you feel more enlightened?"

"The Illusive Man has received a full report, if that's what you're asking."

"Good, we wouldn't want him out of the loop now would we?" replied Shepard sarcastically. "Well, I think it's time to tag this hunk of space metal and be on our way. I was hoping to reach Tali tomorrow."

But as the Commander turned to walk away away, Miranda's omni-tool lit up.

"The Illusive Man would like to speak with you now," said Miranda sternly.

Of course, he does, thought the Commander dryly. It's always when I want to take a nap too.

"I'll be right there."

OOOO

There is a saying in the UNSC that the odds of a fully functional A.I. making a computational error is about a billion to one.

And, in a seven-year life span devoted entirely to solving the quantitative or cytological conundrums of mankind, users came to rely on this astronomical advantage as a fact. Assuming this seemingly fixed guarantee, when a light flicked on in the depths of the Dawn and no one was there to see it, there was no metaphysical conundrum of whether the act took place.

Proximity Lock Severed…

Subroutine Engaged…

With A.I.'s past their expiration date ordering around a ship that had not only seen better days but better circuits and stable power plants, however, billion to one chances had a habit of turning up nine times out of ten.

UNSC Emergency Priority Order 098831A-1\Command Order\Confirmed…

Hickory, dickory, dock,

Timer Engaged\2:59:59…

The mouse ran up the clock

Time Display\1:23:41…

The clock struck one,

Time Display\0:19:21…

The mouse ran down,

Runtime Error…

Hickory

Attempting to Reload…

Dickory

Attempting to Reload…

Dock

Runtime error…

In the depths of what remained of the Dawn, a light flicked off. And further yet still, in a patch of darkness over multiple bundles of circuitry that had not seen light or working atmosphere in some time-

-something attempted to go 'drip'.