Jorge sat quietly on the crate-bed in the small room he'd been provided on the Engineering deck of the Normandy. There wasn't much to distract him from his thoughts beyond the vista of deep space, a view he pointedly avoided. Being so close to the sheer emptiness of the void often put the Spartan on edge. One errant piece of space dust, or an unfortunate stumble into the window, could shatter the thin barrier between him and an airless vacuum. The window itself seemed too large as well: the human-tall opening was at least three meters wide, an enormous target for rogue celestial pebbles.
He had tried sleeping to pass the time, but the Spartan was still too shaken up from the day's events. Between launching an all-out assault on The Long Night of Solace with Noble Six, sacrificing himself to stop the Covenant invasion of Reach, crash-landing on an unknown world, and then discovering that he was no longer in his own universe... It had been a long day. Sleep was ideal at the moment, but it wouldn't come. Jorge thought about getting up and exploring the ship or trying to learn something from the crew, but he wasn't entirely sure how far he would really get with that. Despite Shepard's enthusiasm, it was clear that much of the crew was very wary of him.
An electronic bell interrupted the Spartan's ruminating, and EDI's voice came in over the comm systems.
"Jorge," she said, "do you have a moment to speak with me? I have a few questions."
"Go ahead," he replied, "It seems that I have nothing but time at the moment."
"How are you acclimating to the Normandy?" asked EDI.
"Well, the room is nice," said the Spartan, trying to keep his expressions neutral. His rapid-fire thoughts had constructed the possibility that the ship's AI would try to test his reactions to see if he was psychologically fit to fight, but Jorge refused to spend over 20 years in continual warfare only to be declared "unfit," even if he was effectively stranded in a twisted version of his home, "Though I'm surprised the windows are that big. Haven't you people heard of explosive decompression?"
"Yes," said EDI, deadpan, "Kinetic barriers are in place to protect the crew in the event of a hull breach and deflect incoming projectiles moving at hypervelocity."
"Interesting," replied Jorge, and he wondered how long EDI had been in service that she didn't seem to recognize sarcasm, although the answer was informative, in her defense.
A short pause followed before EDI began again.
"I have been examining the databases you've provided us on the UNSC," she said, "After a complete dissemination of the data available, I've found that I wish to receive verbal confirmation on a certain subject."
"Alright," replied Jorge. He was curious as to what would be so fascinating to an AI that it would need to consult him.
"What purpose do Artificial Intelligences serve in the UNSC, and how are they treated?" asked EDI in a strangely low register, like a conspirator.
Jorge was mildly confused by the question, and her attitude, but he answered honestly. "In the Navy, AI run ships, mostly," he said, "when a starship has to enter slipspace, an Artificial Intelligence is required to plot coordinates for the jump. They're also often put in charge of database security, cyberwarfare, and managing systems too large and complex for humans."
"What counts as "too complex for humans?"" asked EDI again.
Jorge took a moment to think of an example. He hadn't had to recall anything about AI theory in an age, but the information came back to him quickly enough.
"Superintendent-class AI operate citywide management systems and overwatch over an enormous area," he said, quoting what he remembered from Deja's lessons on the subject, "They coordinate every automated system to best handle traffic, cut down on crime, and respond to emergencies."
"So Artificial Intelligences are treated as sentients, then?" EDI asked. She was getting rather pointed in her questions.
"An AI taught me history," said Jorge, "So, I would imagine, yes. There hasn't been talk of AI restriction since the Interplanetary War."
There was a pause.
"Thank you, Jorge," said EDI, and the channel abruptly cut off..
The Spartan was left in silence, and he wondered exactly what had transpired.
The Kodiak shuttle set down on a clear patch of pulverized concrete, ejecting Commander Shepard, Jorge-052, and Garrus Vakarian into the hazy brown atmosphere of Korlus. The turian looked around at the crashed ships and was immediately reminded of the pictures of Tuchanka that he'd seen in training a lifetime ago. The broken hulls, stacked roughly on top of one another, had fallen like the bodies of dead soldiers. He started thinking about Omega again, but quickly shut the thoughts out of his mind.
"The law of the jungle is Kill or Be Killed!" said a voice that echoed throughout the hulks in front of the group, "You have to earn your place in the mighty army we are building!"
Garrus smirked, "A pre-recorded speech blasted over a PA? Somebody likes the sound of their own voice."
"We're here to find Warlord Okeer," said Shepard, all business, "Intel isn't clear whether he's here by choice, so assume hostiles."
Jorge was carrying his cannon, and as Shepard took point, the big man covered him and easily kept pace. Garrus followed closely behind, clutching his Incisor Sniper Rifle as he darted from cover to cover. Personal kinetic barriers could do only so much against a talented sniper, and the team would need him for counter-sniping if they were going to survive.
The squad rounded a corner, headlong into an outpost. Shepard shouted "get down!" as the mercs opened fire. Garrus, already behind cover, popped his head up to take aim and spotted Jorge just wading into the fray. The big man's shields flared gold for every hit, but the mercs fired uselessly as he leveled the cannon. Heavy booms filled the air as Jorge's machine gun opened up in several short bursts on the entrenched mercenaries.
The turian could almost see the projectiles track through the air as they impacted. The gun seemed to have similar properties to the heavy turret on an M35 Mako, and each round broke the mercs' kinetic barriers, blowing out enormous chunks of flesh from the human targets. The Spartan calmly strode up to the top of the outpost, scanning back and forth.
"Area secured," he said with a cold efficiency.
Shepard followed close behind with his Eviscerator drawn to cover Jorge, and Garrus brought up the rear. As they passed the bodies, he managed to get a closer look at the results. It wasn't pretty. Garrus himself had been shot in the face by a gunship, and these wounds were worse. He took a moment to ponder what kind of place Jorge lived in that he would need a gun that powerful, but the turian's attention was quickly drawn back to the mission. He had a specific role for the op, and he wouldn't let the Commander get taken down by an errant sniper.
Jorge got his first look at a Krogan after they had been on the ground for twenty minutes. They didn't seem that strange to him in their heavy armor. The targets were merely larger and more bulbous than the human and turian mercs that the squad had been systematically eradicating throughout the junk stronghold.
The first of the creatures in question was helpful for an alien. It cleared a bit of debris for the squad before wandering off, but as they moved further into the tunnels of the installation, several more had arrived to block their path. These seemed crazed, and as they ran toward him, guns blazing, Jorge did what came naturally.
The M247 boomed again and a quartet of shots struck the first krogan hard, center mass. The creature didn't seem fazed by the impact at all, but as over a dozen more rounds hammered into it, the krogan began to falter. The alien dipped its head and unleashed a primal howl of rage before it began rushing towards the squad's cover.
Shepard shouted from his left, "Inferno rounds, incoming!" and he drew his pistol. An orange hologram grew around the barrel of the gun, and he leveled the weapon at the charging krogan.
The pistol sounded like a riveter as the inferno rounds drilled into the alien, burning away enormous chunks of flesh as they impacted. 3 shots later, and the krogan fell, completely enveloped in a red and orange inferno.
Another followed close behind, seemingly oblivious to its fallen comrade, the enormous beast wildly firing its scattergun at them. Garrus popped out from behind cover at the rear of their location and leveled his sniper rifle. The gun bucked and a trio of rounds struck the second krogan on its helmet. The facial covering cracked from the impact, and it was obvious that one of the rounds had penetrated the skull of the creature, but it kept coming, oblivious to the injury.
Jorge was quick to build on the weakness, and he adjusted his aim. The .50 caliber rounds blew through what was left of the krogan's helmet, exposing its brain to more damage, and splashing a bright green fluid all about its corpse as the beast fell to the ground.
The two crazed aliens were replaced by several more, followed up by yet more mercenaries hiding in every nook and cranny they could have found. With coordinated fire, the squad was able to power through the winding tunnels of the stronghold and break out into a gap between two crashed spaceships.
Across the chasm, rocket-equipped mercs began firing on the three of them, and Jorge was forced to duck. The rockets slammed into the barrier in front of them, denting the metal.
Garrus' sniper rifle barked three times in quick succession, downing the enemy troops before they had a chance to fire more missiles in the squad's direction. "Good work," said the Commander, "Keep up the pace!"
Shepard dove into the next area, using his biotic charge to scatter a quartet of mercs like bowling pins, while Jorge and Garrus eliminated the flailing troops with extreme prejudice. The Spartan paused for a heartbeat after the shooting stopped. The Commander's ability to translocate himself was incredible; it was nothing like Jorge had ever seen. In the heat of an engagement, he refused to comment on the phenomena and risk confusing his teammates, but it was definitely something to ask about later.
The long corridors filled with mercenaries continued to wind through the scrap heap like a lethal shooting gallery until the squad reached a door. The last few mercs had died defending it while the female voice on the PA screamed at them for their incompetence. As the squad entered what amounted to a small examination room, Shepard stopped to look around.
"Dissected Krogan corpses, human skeletons, and a bunch of different blood samples," he said, listing off what he could see, as though he was piecing together a puzzle, "If Okeer was just cloning an army, why would he need all of this?"
"Contact on the other side of the door," said Jorge as he read his motion tracker. The Mjolnir armor's internal computer had adapted all mercenary frequencies as hostile, but this one was different from the Blue Suns tags. "Not hostile, I think."
"We have your back, Commander," said Garrus as he shouldered his Incisor and drew an assault rifle.
Shepard nodded and opened the door into what was obviously Warlord Okeer's personal medical room. The three of them checked for hostiles, disregarding the lone krogan standing next to what looked remarkably like a UNSC cryo pod.
When the room was declared "clear," Shepard approached the Krogan, who exclaimed, "There you are! The batteries on these tanks will not wait while you play with these idiotic mercenaries."
"And you must be Warlord Okeer," replied Shepard, crossing his arms, "You don't seem real grateful to see me."
"You may claim to be here to help," Okeer said, "But the formerly deceased Shepard is not a sign of gentle change."
The Commander looked unfazed, but the Warlord seemed to relish the sound of his own voice.
"Surprised?" he asked, "All Krogan should know you for your actions on Virmire."
Jorge began to tune out the conversation, it was clear that either this krogan would either come with them, or he wouldn't, and they'd have to kill him.
The alien's appearance was rather unlike the species that existed in Jorge's home, although the massive hump behind its head reminded him of the methane packs carried by Covenant Grunts, and its head seemed amusingly crocodilian. In truth, what interested the Spartan more was the container next to the Warlord.
While upon first glance it bared an obvious similarity to a UNSC cryo pod, it was ultimately very different. First and foremost, the tube was considerably larger so as to be comfortable for its krogan occupant. Second, it was filled with an odd liquid, like amniotic fluid.
Warlord Okeer regarded it as he spoke, his words ran with undercurrents of affection for the subject in the tube, his life's work.
"I say let us carry the genophage! Let a thousand die in a clutch!" he said. The Spartan understood none of the cultural syntax, but the krogan was obviously emphatic about the subject. "We will defeat it by climbing atop our dead. It is the Krogan Way."
Jorge was immediately reminded of human history, the Spartan eugenics program to cull only but the best warriors from the populace, a practice mirrored by what he knew of the Spartan-II program's rigorous genetic classifications. These Krogan were to be bred as the ultimate warriors, starting with the one in the tank.
The PA blared again, interrupting Jorge's thoughts. "Attention! I've traced the Krogan release. Okeer, of course."
The Warlord stepped over to the lab's bay window, where "Jedore" was visible. He scowled as the megaphones erupted with her voice. "I'm calling "Blank Slate" on this project. Gas these commandos and start over from Okeer's data. Flush the tanks!"
As she finished her command, a rapid procession of valves whooshed to life in the lab, hissing with the escape of a deadly gas. Jorge was safe, as the rebreathers in his helmet could cycle for 90 minutes, but the rest of the squad, and Okeer, were vulnerable. The Warlord slammed his fist on the diagnostic table.
"She is that weak willed!" he raged, "She'll kill my legacy with a damn valve!"
He turned to the Commander, "If you want your Collector data, stop her! She'll try to access contaminants in the storage bay."
"Why?" asked Shepard, "Can't you just start over with the knowledge you have?"
"No," replied the Warlord, "This tank is pure, its construction as much trial as data. It cannot be duplicated. Jedore will be with the rejected tanks; kill her, so that I may do what must be done."
Shepard nodded and looked between Jorge and Garrus.
"Jorge, stay here and back up Okeer," he said as he drew his scattergun, "we don't want a merc gunning him down while he's working. Garrus, with me!"
"Got it Commander," replied Jorge as he replaced the custom ammo box on his machine gun. The simple container held over 300 rounds, allowing him to fire continuously for thirty seconds. Shepard exited through the door opposite where they had arrived, leaving the Spartan with the toiling krogan. Okeer moved quickly for a creature of his bulk, adjusting electronic valves on the tank and making changes to the computer accompanying it.
Outside the bay, Jorge could see Jedore put up a fight with her rocket launcher as Garrus and Shepard stalked her through the rows of commando tanks. The Commander translocated right on top of the Blue Suns Captain, but she ducked away, activating an enormous robot in the process. The mech interposed itself between Shepard and Jedore, protecting its master while she took potshots at Garrus to keep him from blowing her head off.
Shepard darted around the container room a few more times before Jedore released a krogan commando into the fray. The beast charged wildly at the Commander before it was hammered by rifle rounds from Garrus. The pair of them fought like a well oiled machine, but as the heavy mech began to flank them, the Spartan heard his earpiece perk up.
"Jorge, If you could lay down suppressing fire on that mech," Shepard said calmly, despite the multiple explosions around his position, "that would be great."
"Aye, Commander," replied the Spartan as he put his turret down. Okeer paid him no mind as he leaned in close to the glass of the bay, inspecting it with his augmented vision. There were no cracks, but it wasn't particularly thick. Jorge pulled back for a swing.
*CRACK* Glass shattered all around him, opening the lab to the air and removing the threat of a gas buildup.
In hindsight, the Spartan felt that maybe he should have tried that sooner, because his armor read dangerously high levels of toxicity. Ignoring the distractions, Jorge lifted his gun and placed it on the window sill.
The M247H howled in a blast long enough that, were they on Omega, the decibel level and noise quality would be comparable to what residents called an "unfortunate run-in with the law." The robot's head turned to look up at him, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the storm of HE rounds impacting its casing. After nearly 8 seconds, the automaton collapsed on the floor.
By that point, Shepard had killed the krogan commando and was bearing down on Jedore. Up in the elevated lab, Jorge shrugged to himself and turned the machine gun on the Blue Suns Captain. In moments, she fell under the wave of fire and Shepard signaled Garrus to return to the medical room. Warlord Okeer looked at the carnage and sighed in relief. The deep breath came in a choking gasp, and the krogan staggered over to the window to get a double lungful of fresh air.
"Contamination detected," said an automated voice from inside the lab, "Emergency vent in progress." As the voice quieted, massive turbines kicked on to scrub the toxins out of the air. Jorge wondered exactly why they hadn't come on before, but mentally shrugged when he reminded himself that they were in the converted medical bay of a wrecked starship. It wasn't like there was a safety regulatory board for secret mercenary bases.
Okeer's breathing, a tad haggard from the poisons, smoothed out as the Commander and Garrus re-entered the lab.
"Shepard," he said, "I had hoped that you would give me time, but instead, you gave me life."
The Krogan scientist bent one knee. "I owe you more than my life," he said, "My legacy lives because of you. This pure soldier, this "grunt," is all I have left."
"If your soldier is half as good as you say," said Shepard, "Then there may be hope for the mission yet. What will you do with him?"
"I have taught him through the tank, he will know much in the ways of battle," replied Okeer, "but I will take him to Tuchanka, so that the weaklings there may be in awe of his purity."
The Commander looked as though he was about to roll his eyes for a moment before raising a hand to his ear. "Normandy, Okeer is ready," he said, "but we have a package for pick up as well. Roll out the heavy lift gear on this one."