Reclamation: Genesis

by DragonsManticoresAndGiantsOhMy

Massively AU. Halo/Mass Effect merged continuity. The galaxy, like much of the universe, is in a constant cycle of birth, destruction and rebirth. No guarantee our civilization is any different. We know others have come before us and perished at their height. What destroyed them? Could it destroy us as well? One human might be our savior, but he needs to grow up a bit first.

37. Boarding & Clearing Your Conscience

Disclaimer: This fanfic is massively AU, combining elements of Mass Effect and Halo together as one with my own interpretation and additions. Being that it will be character driven with an emphasis on world building I'll try my best to have unique or entertaining takes on things. I can not stress enough that if you're easily upset that events, technologies, and characters do not strictly follow canon sources then this fic will not be for you.

Additionally I must emphasize that this fic is based upon two fictional franchises that follow the science fiction tradition of observing the actual laws of physics, biological sciences, and other aspects of reality very loosely when it serves them. Again I'll do my best to reconcile the two continuities but unless you're willing to accept that there is more priority paid to entertaining speculative fiction than actual scientific theory in the science fiction genre and that 'space magic' happens because it's fun to imagine or moves the plot along... then you're not going to be happy with this fic.

I say this as a warning because I will be having fun playing with futuristic technologies that verge on 'space magic' and their impact on how the galaxy functions. Some are meant to be impediments and barriers to what is possible in the AU setting I am creating while others are for personal preference of what I want to happen or just plain old hand waving convenience of not wanting to bother with the details. So to save us both time let's agree up front that this is an amateur work of highly dubious quality and avoid reviews or PMs giving me grief over the feasibility or practicality of a particular fictional technology or science, okay?

Warning: This story contains scenes of graphic violence, explicit sexual nature, discussion of mature themes/topics, and plenty of coarse language.

I warn as a service to those of you who might find this content offensive or disturbing. It is my aim to make a character driven fic as honest and real as possible when it comes to personal interactions, character growth, and social observations. If it were an option to select a higher rating than M then I would.

Author's Notes: This was a fun chapter to write but the codex was pure hell. FTL travel is such a staple of sci-fi that it's inevitably going to be a topic of discussion in any story in the genre, but since ME and Halo use two drastically different systems for travel it was difficult to merge them. Now I could have just hand waived it all off as working in my fic because I said so, but dark energy and the slipstream will play such a huge role with what I want to do with this story going forward that I had to lay down a foundation in explaining how both systems work together in my AU merged setting.

That sort of paints me into a corner of debating just how specific and technical I should get about purely fictional concepts that I made up in with my batshit crazy imagination. There were certain details that needed to be nailed down, and future ones that will be incorporated via the story or future codices. In the end I feel that I struck a good balance that I can be proud of without committing myself too much into an area that I am woefully ill-equipped to discuss in depth.

For all you action junkies I hope this chapter satisfies your cravings until the finale which will have plenty of violence and gore.

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Cargo Hold Delta 12, T-GES Registered Springhill Class Mining Freighter SA/EFV-TG7348 'Hawkhurst', Rye Asteroid Field, Dorset Binary System, Arcturus Stream Star Cluster; September 11th, 2573 [Standardized Terran Calendar], 0423 [Synced Terran Time, Terran Standard], 0149 [Mission Clock, Terran Standard]

"Clear right."

Ignoring Toombs' call over comms I swung my own shotgun across my sector and slowly stalked my way past containers in the cargo hold. The sensors in my suit relayed layers of imagery to my HUD, showing there was nothing in the room save for myself, Toombs, and a maintenance drone that was repairing something in the ceiling.

"Clear left."

After voicing my findings through our team comms I lowered my weapon slightly and returned to the entrance as Sergeant Svensson and naval technician Petty Officer Russell entered. Narrowing my gaze into a glower I watched as Vigneron – a jittery and nervous crewman for the ship – followed behind them to grant access to ship's systems.

I knew the man had done nothing wrong – yet – but his presence was irritating. The persistently guilty behavior of acting like a hull breach would open at any second to swallow him since we'd began checking the containers and pods for the freighter made me paranoid.

Obviously he's ruining the inviting and warm ambiance of this vessel.

This certainly wasn't as pleasant of an experience as sharing a sleeping berth with Klara during our trip to Draco.

Momentarily distracted by the erotic memories of the recent weekend vacation with my very flexible outer colony angel I refocused my attention on the skittish weasel of a man.

Toombs was hawkish and dialed in tracking Vigneron's movements as well to keep a clear line of sight to take the man down should he prove to be more dangerous than we thought. If the other two in the room were bothered by this they didn't show it. Sergeant Svenssson turned around and stared down Vigneron, her cold glare easily visible through her depolarized visor. The UNSC issue drone hovering over Petty Officer Russell's shoulder zipped ahead and began scanning the contents of the cargo hold while he synced his omni-tool with the central terminal.

"Are we taking bets over what they've got hidden on this ship?" El Mofty wondered aloud over comms from her position near the doorway, eliciting chatter from the rest of the squad while Alpha Team checked another cargo hold at the far end of the deck.

"I got ten credits that says they're smugglers." Teoh chimed in from further down the deck where the other half of the squad was conducting their searches of the cargo holds.

"Yeah but smuggling what?" El Mofty responded.

"What couldn't they be smuggling? This is a huge cargo ship." Cata huffed and griped.

Taking advantage of the situation Zach ribbed his teammate, "Maybe it's a shipment of the batarian snacks Hualing likes."

"Once. I bought that bag of dried fruit from Sirona once." Sighing in annoyance Teoh grumbled defensively.

Musing about the situation Nik offered up his thoughts,"Y'know this reminds me of a vid where a derelict ship was carrying an experimental bioweapon."

Derelict ships and experimental bioweapons? Well that certainly narrows it down when it comes to horror vids.

"Is there ever any other kind in vids?" I mockingly drawled with a shake of my head.

Undeterred by my sarcasm Nik clarified with absolute seriousness, "Except this was a parasite that infected everyone it came in contact with and turned them into hivemind mutant zombies."

Should have seen that coming.

Zach was the first to respond and declared with trepidation, "You know what? I'm not touching anything."

Fresh from her stint in Bravo Three MVC and a newly promoted Sergeant Cerny sighed irritably,"Thanks for that image, Nik."

Unaffected by her reprimand he glibly replied,"I do what I can, Sergeant."

Well aside from being introduced to that lovely concept straight from Suvorov's deranged imagination we had yet to find anything but there was still something unnerving about this entire situation. That feeling of unease lingered uncomfortably in the back of my mind making everything seem suspicious and ominous. We'd managed to have the most uneventful patrol of the Arcturus Stream ever until we entered this star system late last night. Uninhabited and far off the beaten path of slipstream travel lanes in the cluster this should have been a routine scan and clear.

So of course it was anything but.

When two frigates from the patrol did a sweep of the inner asteroid belt they spooked this freighter from it's hiding spot. The rest of the patrol sprung into action and cut off avenues of escape only for the captain of the vessel – the Hawkhurst – to contact the patrol. Bastard had the nerve to thank the Navy and claim they were lost after having suffered a translight engine malfunction on their way to Benning.

Convenient.

Right? There were no distress signals being transmitted in system and no reports to be on the lookout for a disabled freighter. And why were they so far away from established slipstream lanes to Benning to begin with? Did they really expect us to believe they just happened to eject from slipspace this far off course? I mean I've heard of some pretty big VI errors with slipstream calculations but that was in the range of tens of millions of kilometers, not light years.

It didn't take a genius to figure out this entire situation sounded far-fetched and preposterous.

The only way that made any sense is if they had one hell of streak of bad luck involving a colossal error in their navigation VI that lead them to this system and then ran into catastrophic failures when trying to discharge their static and heat buildup.

Which doesn't seem likely.

Exactly. So I guess the obvious question is why choose this system? There was nothing here. It's not even situated on the outer fringes of the cluster.

Perfect place if you wanted to be alone and avoid detection.

That had to be it. No way a legit vessel on the last leg of their trip from the Sigma Octanus cluster would be here. Too much to risk with the scrutiny they would draw after originating from a troubled area.

Suddenly suspicious of the outer colonies?

No, but definitely suspicious of areas in the Skyllian Verge bordering Hegemony Space and the Terminus. Seems like instead of heading directly towards their destination in Benning they made a detour to a rendezvous in this uninhabited system. Probably with someone who would load or offload cargo before they reached Benning.

And all the searches and scans conducted by customs at an orbital station.

Which would explain why my squad had been tasked with clearing cargo hold after cargo hold down in the lower decks. The rest of our platoon had been divided into securing the bridge, detaining the crew, searching the living quarters for contraband, and escorting a group of navy engineers to the ship's engineering deck to see if they couldn't repair the 'problem' the Hawkhurst.

Deciding to break the tension in the room I add my own wager. "I'm putting ten credits on it being Menneau's corpse on ice."

That's crass.

Maybe, but being reminded every day for two months straight to be 'on the lookout' for the missing Terra Firma leader had worn thin. What did they think? Someone was going to find him hiding in a storage locker or something?

The rest of the squad chuckled, sharing my exasperation with the subject.

"Maybe it's his wife too. Now she was a fucking masterpiece. Blonde, tall, and stacked. They just don't make them like that anymore." Toombs – never waving from his duty to shadow Vigneron – grinned and waggled his eyebrows. Pausing for a moment he frowned and amended his statement, "Well, not naturally anyway."

"So you get off on frozen corpses, Zeke? Something you want to tell us?" El Mofty drawled in response, eliciting more chuckles from everyone and even a snort from Petty Officer Russell.

Adding to the mix Cerny snarked over comms, "So someone needs to let the Navy know not to let Toombs anywhere near the cryobay unless he's supposed to be there."

Joining in on the razzing of Toombs I added "Maybe Zeke likes it when they can't tell him how terrible he is?"

"What if it's a cache of frozen rachni eggs being smuggled on their way to Noveria for top secret research?" We all paused in our mirth to goggle at yet another of Suvorov's insane musings.

Sergeant Svensson shook her head in disgust as she reprimanded the private over comms. "That's it. I'm regulating your sim and extranet access when we get back to Czarnobog."

Even out of sight in the corridor I could imagine his petulant and defensive face. "What? I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Seriously, Nik. Rachni eggs? Noveria? Why not some ancient machine that can destroy the galaxy?" Shaking my head in exasperation I grumbled at my teammate's propensity for the lewd and absurd.

"You never know." Suvorov sourly replied to my skepticism.

"Except you never actually know, but that doesn't stop you from thinking one of the plots from your vids or games could happen in real life. You're almost as bad as Duong with galactic tales and conspiracy theories." I heaved a sigh and shook my head, moving around the cargo hold to watch blind corners out of habit."Are we positive your parents had you screened for hereditary defects?"

El Mofty snorted and remarked, "It's called shame and common sense. He has none."

Staff Sergeant Adame sighed heavily into the comms and growled her reprimand, "Do you idiots not have enough to do that you feel like sharing the two or three warped thoughts rattling around in your heads?"

"Nope. I'm good."

"Same"

"I'll shut up."

The voice of Lieutenant Nesterovic cut through the comms and our fun,"All Blackfish callsigns, Blackfish Actual. Be advised. Navy techs are reporting that cooling systems for translight engine show signs of damage consistent with electrostatic discharge malfunction. Nothing that couldn't be fabricated and replaced with facilities onboard. Blackfish reserve teams being called in. ETA fifteen minutes. On your toes, over."

Well that certainly changes things.

No kidding. The eezo is definitely live on this one.

The squad's jovial nature was replaced with quiet tension ratcheted up another notch. Vigneron couldn't hear our comms but he could clearly observe the change in our demeanor and actions, causing him to appear even more agitated and nervous.

He knows something.

Something dirty is definitely going on here and he's dreading the moment we find out what it is.

Sergeant Svensson addressed him through her voice module, making it clear she didn't trust him. " You guys have a habit of ending up this far off course?"

"Uh, n-no. It's a malfunction. The, uhm, navigation. Had to exit slipstream prematurely on our way to the Pevensey system and the mining and refining operation T-GES has there." It was curious he wouldn't look at her when responding, choosing to stare at the metal grate beneath his feet. Feeling her disbelieving glare he clarified, this time a bit more defensively. "I don't know what happened. I'm not an engineer or nav."

Pevensey? Why the hell would they be headed to Pevensey? That had to be almost a full ten light years away from Benning.

"Then what is it that you do around here?" As my team leader continued to press him I glanced at the Navy tech, who was still engrossed with scouring the terminal database with his omni-tool while his drone scanned the various containers in the hold.

"Comms. I run the comms and internal network. I'm helping you guys get access. To our network." I jerked my head back to Vigneron and narrowed my eyes behind the polarized visor of my sealed helmet.

It was his responsibility to call for help.

Something he never did. Not waiting for my sergeant to pick up on that detail I quickly activated my voice module and asked "So how come you never activated a distress beacon? Don't you have a way to contact T-GES or the DCS to request assistance?"

After seeming meek and timid this entire time the nervous man had suddenly found his nerve to glare at me with pure loathing.

A defiant response. That was pretty significant.

And it also hadn't escaped my notice that he neglected to answer my question.

Sergeant Svensson must have come to the same conclusion as her posture tensed, gripping her assault rifle tighter and becoming more aggressive with her tone, "Well? You going to answer him?"

"Found it." Petty Officer Russell's exclamation drew everyone's attention, heads snapping in his direction as he wandered off deeper into the cargo hold and stopped in front of an inconspicuous container. A quick look back at Vigneron revealed his eyes widen slightly as the Navy tech and his drone began more comprehensive scans of the container.

Could he behave anymore guilty?

Toombs seemed to have caught that as well as he leveled his M90E Piranha shotgun at the crew member and growled over his voice module, "Don't. Fucking. Move."

"The Navy tech found something, Adame." Svensson contacted our squad leader as she gestured for me to help Toombs cover Vigneron.

Angling myself behind Vigneron I raised my M45 shotgun and aimed at his back, my arms feeling weak as my heart pounding furiously with fear, excitement, and focus.

This is the real thing. This wasn't a training sim or boring board and clear. Something is about to go down.

Adame's response was tense and demanding, "The LT is going to need more information than that, Franny."

Svensson spared a glance at Vigneron before she ambled over to Russell, "What have we got, Russ?"

"Not sure what yet but I know it doesn't match the records for what they claim is in the container." The petty officer continued to scan and explain to Svensson with a shrug, "Only reason I found it was the idiots forgot to wipe their automation records. This container had been prepped for unloading about four hours ago but was put back into storage less than one hour ago. Take a wild guess when we showed up."

That can not be a coincidence.

Svensson didn't respond to Russell's rhetorical question, instead opening a comms link with her omni-tool to Lieutenant Nesterovic,"Blackfish Actual, Blackfish Five Bravo. We think we got something in Delta Twelve, ma'am. They were preparing to offload a possibly mislabeled container before we showed up. Forgot to erase the automated records, over."

Vigneron's breathing had become labored as he stared at the pair near the container in question. Watching his movements closely I could see his hands becoming restless with twitches and squeezes.

"Understood, Blackfish Five Bravo. Blackfish Five, secure that deck. On my way with backup. Be advised, searches of crew quarters is looking like they had a couple more bodies aboard than their crew log indicates. Our engineers are running through some of the access logs and it looks like the ship's systems were recognizing six additional identitags. I repeat, entire crew is not accounted for, over."

"Blackfish Actual, Blackfish Five Alpha. Understood, ma'am." Adame smoothly responded before barking out orders to the rest of us and the platoon VI. "Everyone lock this place down tight. Cover the transport corridor and the access points until reinforcements arrive. Alfons, initiate in depth scan of the deck and all cargo holds. Authorizing allocation of vessel and unit assets."

"Authorization acknowledged. Comprehensive scan initiated, Sergeant Adame."

Vigneron – having not heard a word of what was being said over comms – began wildly looking around in a panic at our activity. "What's going on?"

"On the ground! Now!" Toombs ignored Vigneron's question and shouted out a command through his voice module. When Vigneron didn't comply Toombs took an explosive step closer and knocked him down with a vicious blow to the back of the man's head with his shotgun. "If you so much as breathe wrong I will blow your fucking head off. Stay down and hands where I can see them."

The sudden outburst of violence caught me off guard, staring in shock at Toombs as he towered over the man while aiming his weapon on him.

This is spiraling out of control.

It's like the situation with the colonists on Barcelo Mining Station all over again.

Except no one was going to prevent this from escalating into violence.

Vigneron curled into a fetal position with his arms wrapped around the back of his head while quietly whimpering as Svensson heatedly questioned him, "Where's your buddies?"

"I don't know!"

"So you know who I'm talking about?"

"No! I don't know what the hell is going on!"

Svensson spared a sneering glance at at him before directing her attention at the rest of the team. "Asma, Nik, how's it looking out there?"

"Haven't seen anything so far, Sarge." Private El Mofty replied from her position in the corridor just outside of the cargo hold.

"Shep come help me hold this fucker down while I cuff him." I made it one step to help Toombs before a loud 'thunk' caused me – and everyone else – to pause.

I'm going to take a wild guess and assume that wasn't the ship's maintenance drone in the crawlspaces above.

Frozen in place I lifted my shotgun to aim at the ceiling and strained to hear where it had come from, but the sound seemed to vibrate and echo through this cargo hold and the transport corridor outside. A warning suddenly flashed across my screen as information from the comprehensive scans detected someone in the cargo hold adjacent to the one we currently were in. Svensson stalked forward and placed her knee into Vigneron's back, causing the man to gasp and squirm as Toombs quickly placed the flash forged plastic cuffs on the crew member and resumed covering the him with his shotgun.

"Target acquisition. Target composition: Single target; Human male. Identitag Scan: Null; Illegal Encryption. Probability for Target Error: 87%; Electronic Countermeasures in place."

"Russ, weapon out. I think we found the stowaways." The confirmation from Alfons spurred Sergeant Svensson back onto her feet as she calmly addressed the Petty Officer. The Navy tech cautiously drew his side arm and made his way back over to us while Svensson contacted our squad leader. "We got someone moving around in the service ducts."

"Yeah we heard it too. It's down on your end?"

"That's what it looks like. Sensors pinged movement in the cargo hold next door but the VI detects illegal identitag encryption and some ECM being used to throw us off. What do you think? Should we wait unti- CONTACT!"

To my left an access panel in the ceiling opened and out dropped a woman sheathed in a corona of indigo and blue.

A biotic?!

My confusion almost proved fatal when she levitated and hurled a small storage container in my direction that I had to duck in a panic.

Need more evidence?

Nope. That's more than enough.

She hit the ground gracefully on all fours and quickly rolled behind a container where she unleashed a storm of slugs from an SMG that forced me to scramble behind the nearest container for cover. And judging by the snapping and shattering sound it wasn't going to be providing cover for much longer.

In a frantic search for another place find cover I saw second and third access panel pop open around the cargo hold as her compatriots – both both males armed with shotguns – dropped from the ceiling and fired wildly at us. Distracted by the biotic woman's entrance and fire the rest of the team were taken by surprise, prompting Svensson to tackle Russell behind the terminal console and Toombs to dive behind a storage container just as one of those blasts managed to hit him in the back.

Shit!

[\ Warning! Corporal Toombs, Ezekiel: Incapacitating Injury; Requires Medical Assistance At Earliest Convenience \]

I released a short gasp of relief as apparently his kinetic barrier and composite armor saved him although he grunted in pain from the floor out of the line of sight of the attackers. "I'm going to kill that son of a bitch!"

Yeah, he'll be fine.

Yelling obscenities is certainly going to be productive.

I'm sure his intent is to be as constructive and engaging as possible.

"Target acquisition. Target composition: Six targets; Two human males; Four human females; Unusual metabolisms detected. Identitag Scan: Null; Illegal Encryption. Weaponry: Illegal models; Illegal modification. Probability for Target Error: 8%; Electronic Countermeasures in place."

From the exterior corridor the exchanges of automatic weapons and mass accelerated slugs ricocheting off the reinforced ship metal rang out as Vigneron screamed and writhed on the ground as his unprotected ears took the full brunt of the thunderous echoing inside the cargo hold.

"Contact, corridor! Three of them. Small arms." El Mofty jumped into the doorway and used it to provide covering fire for Suvorov who dived head first into the cargo hold.

Cool and unflappable in the heat of the moment Adame smoothly issued orders,"I see them, private. You and Suvorov keep steady suppression fire on them so Alpha can advance. Franny, what's the situation in the hold?"

Svensson smoothly returned suppressing fire at the attackers in the hold with us and replied, "Three individuals in the cargo hold with us. One of them is a biotic."

As if on cue the woman launched a biotic warp attack at the badly damaged container I was hiding behind. My body tingled uncomfortably being in proximity of rapidly shifting dark energy fields that shattered the compromised container and spilled the contents of unrefined minerals. A quick sidestep away from the danger and I raised my shotgun to fire several tight bursts of slugs that slammed into her position and forced her to retreat deeper into the cargo hold. Ducking behind another storage container I gaped as the sparking remains of Petty Officer Russell's drone rocketed overhead and into a wall after being hit by an some sort of directed electrical attack from one of the assailants.

"Blackfish Five! Respond!"

In quick response to the Lieutenant's request Adame answered, "Blackfish Actual, confirmation we have found your missing crew members. They're giving us a welcoming party with small arms fire. Got three in the hold with Five Bravo and three in the transport corridor. They're moving around in the service ducts. If anyone else wants to join in on the fun, well, the more the merrier, over."

"Copy Blackfish Five Alpha. Keep them busy. I'm sending some party crashers your way to deck access points one and two."

A moment later Svensson motioned for me to flank the attackers on the right while she and Toombs pinned them down with suppressing fire. Taking a deep breath I flash forged an omni-shield and darted out from behind my cover in a dash to the far end of the hold. I grunted from the force of mass accelerated slugs hitting my shield vibrating up my arm but just before I reached the safety of a recessed storage area my kinetic barriers flared in a flash of indigo and gold. Something slammed into my left shoulder spaulder with enough force to knock me off balance, spinning counterclockwise awkwardly as I stumbled and crashed into a wall of containers headfirst.

Damn it. That. Fucking. Hurts.

You're lucky that your arm is still attached to your body.

Bewildered and disoriented I scrambled to my feet and hugged the alcove wall as more slugs rained down on my position. How did they manage to nail me through my shield and kinetic barriers?

Take a wild guess?

Seriously? You've got to be kidding me!

Biting back on a snarl of pain I gave the rest of the team the heads up, "So in case anyone is interested I think they're using phasic rounds."

[\ Warning! Incapacitating Injury To Left Shoulder; Internal Stabilization activated; Seek Medical Assistance At Your Earliest Convenience. \]

"Your observation appears to be correct, Private First Class Shepard. Target Composition Addendum: Target One: KF-12 Locust; Possible Phasic Modifications. Probability for Target Error: 23%; Electronic Countermeasures in place."

It's nice to have validation.

I'd rather be wrong in this instance.

As a recipient of his own share pain courtesy of our newest friends Zeke snorted "The two fuckers with shotguns have Wraiths."

"This is consistent with sensory data, Corporal Toombs. Target Composition Addendum: Targets Two, Three: WST-90D Siegebreaker; Possible Unauthorized Terminus Wraith Variant. Probability for Target Error: 17%; Electronic Countermeasures in place."

Well isn't that just fucking wonderful?

You honestly expected criminals to not use illegal technology?

So much for a simple board and clear, but on the plus side those sort of weapons and mods were notorious for being poorly calibrated and damaging to the weapon.

Right. So their weapons should be overheating and malfunctioning. Eventually.

Probably just before they kill you. Great game plan.

"You two good?" Svensson was still keeping the assailants pinned in place with steady bursts of fire while El Mofty and Suvorov took turns firing from the safety of the doorway until their weapons nearly triggered overheats.

"My back is going to be bruised to fucking hell after this, but I'm still breathing." The Toombs grumbled and leaned out of cover to fire four quick blasts with his Pirahna.

With their attention focused on my teammates I stuck my own shotgun out past the corner of the recessed storage area and used the targeting sensors to get a better image of the assailants on my HUD. Looks like this location afforded me a great angle to get the drop on a stocky male covered in tattoos with spiked black hair, glowing orange eyes, and light body armor etched with all sorts of intricate carvings and decals .

Looks someone has definitely taken this whole pirate thing too seriously. He might as well be cast in the next Captain Cosmic episode.

Somehow I doubt he's going to make the next casting call.

Gazing beyond him I caught a glimpse of the female biotic darting between containers in the center of the cargo hold. She appeared to be rather short but covered in more heavier armor with a head of elaborately styled blue and red hair. And on the far side of the room I spied a dark skinned man with glowing tattoos etched into his face and neck popping up from behind cover to shower my team with bursts of lethal shards from his wraith.

Quite the colorful bunch T-GES is hiring.

More like some requirement for being a murderous pirate.

Rolling my injured shoulder and wincing I replied to my sergeant's inquiry."Nothing medigel and a massage wouldn't take care of, Sergeant. I've got a bead on one of these fuckers. Going to flush them out of their hiding spot."

"Copy that, Shepard. Put 'em on their ass."

Lining up my aim on mister glowing eyes I pulled on the trigger and the Crusader in my hands unleashed a barrage of slugs that slammed into an erected kinetic barrier but the sheer number and power carried through to hammer into his chestplate. Dazed and shocked he stumbled backwards into a cargo container with enough force rattle the breath from his lungs as he wheezed pitifully. I followed up with a second blast that cracked his shielding with a satisfying snap and spark of gold and indigo, and a third that impacted to the sickening sound of shattered ceramic armor, snapped ribs, and a wet gasp that spewed blood from his lips.

I do believe this target has been neutralized.

Yeah there's no way he's getting up from that.

Except to my utter astonishment he glared at me with insane fury and protectively wrapped an arm around his damaged chest before he scrambled to cover as blood flowed freely from his mouth and between the thin plates of his armor.

"What the fuck?"

Did that just... how did...

Something is not right here.

You think?

"What?" Toombs sounded anxious, wondering what had me shocked.

"I hit him! Three times! Dead on! He just shook it off like it was nothing and took cover!" My voice cracked, not sure at what I had just seen.

"Yeah. I'm positive I tagged one of these fuckers and she's still up and fighting." Suvorov chimed in between bursts of his M739 Typhoon.

"Sync your battle log, Shepard." I quickly ducked back into cover and activated my omni-tool to do as she asked. Moments later Svensson sighed through the comms after reviewing my vid feed. "Shit. I think they're using rumble drugs."

"Say that again, Franny? Rumble drugs?"

"That's what it looks like, Tasmin."

"That's just fucking perfect. Suicidal rage zombies. I blame you assholes for mentioning all this horror vid crap." I agreed with the frustration in El Mofty's response. Based on everything I'd ever seen or heard if these guys were juiced up on rumble drugs then we were in for one hell of a fight.

"Toombs you go left, Shep you stay right. Flush them out. If any of you get a clear shot do not stop firing until you're overheating or they're a bloody mess on the ground twitching." Preparing myself I returned my shotgun to the magnetic strips across the back of my armor and withdrew my sidearm – an M7 Hurricane SMG. Sergeant Svensson looked to Petty Officer Russell and nodded toward Vigneron's sobbing form. "Watch him, Russ."

At the Petty Officer's nod Sergeant Svensson fired on their position and shouted "Now!"

Charging out of my hiding spot I activated my omni-shield once more and advanced on the assailants with my hurricane as Sergeant Svensson yelled, "Flashbang out."

The systems in my suit automatically adjusted to protect myself from the effects as the small grenade sailed over the containers. The visor of my helmet polarized as the entire cargo hold was illuminated by rapid blinding flashes and distorted shadows like a violent dance club. The omni fabrication suite dissociated the shield and deactivated. My HUD and weapon went into emergency shut down mode just before the EMP pulse from the device only to reboot a split second later. Now in silence I could only hear my breathing and heartbeat as I cleared the last few meters separating me from my objective.

Nearing the area where I had dropped the guy with glowing eyes I spun around the corner with my weapon aimed and ready only to find the abandoned Wraith shotgun lying in a trail of blood smeared over the metal plates. But no body.

Why would he leave his weapon behind?

Great. Not only is he still breathing but he managed to walk it off.

He couldn't have gotten far.

I hope. The rumble drugs might keep him going past the pain and fear but he has to be running out of breath and blood. Except the blood trail doesn't seem to go anywhere...

Pay attention.

In an instant my nerves and senses were on edge as I noticed the grenade's strobe effect highlight a distortion in the air. Frowning at the distortion I wondered if this was another shadowy optical illusion caused by the grenade when my sensors caught a blip of a heat signature in the form of a small puddle of blood forming on the floor beneath the distortion.

Well that's weird. Where's the blood coming from? Unless...

He never left.

Just as my mind pieced it together a pair of glowing orange eyes appeared at head height in the distortion a few meters in front of me.

You've got the fucking kidding me! Optical and sensory cloaking tech? Who the hell were these people?

The air distorted into the shape of a grown man as the assailant lunged at me with a wicked looking baton, swinging wildly it at my head like he wanted to decapitate me.

Never a good thing.

Yeah I kind of like my head where it's at.

At the last second I ducked and his missed swing carried him into a container where the baton connected with a snap and fizzle of an electric discharge. By now he was fully visible and lunged at me once more, his coordination sloppy and labored as his injuries were catching up with him.

Between the drugs and his injuries he's reckless. Use it against him.

Rather than evade this blow I stepped into his backhand swing of the baton by slamming the barrel of my Hurricane into his wrist. With his attack blocked I seized the opportunity to attack his exposed right side and a quick neural command later my omni-blade was flash forged, the searing orange weapon thrusting forward into his unprotected obliques and out his lower back as I punched into his side.

Gruesome.

The effects were instantaneous. His knees buckled and he went limp, the baton slipping from his grasp as he attempted to hold onto me but crumpled to the floor with a gurgling whimper. As he collapsed the blade sliced through his lower abdomen and split him open, allowing his severed innards to bulge from the wound and hit the floor with a sickening splat. And yet still the fucker attempted to claw and drag himself in a pathetic and futile effort towards the wraith lying out of his reach.

Oh, hell. He's still alive.

The rumble drugs would do that.

Guess now I understand why someone on them gets called a rage zombie.

What are you going to do?

Breathing a weary sigh I trained my weapon on him and hesitated for a moment before firing a merciful burst to end his suffering – and mine.

As the slugs ripped through his exposed collar and neck I watched him twitch from the impact before going listless. Even his eyes became dulled and unfocused, leaving behind eerily vacant irises with an orange glow.

I think I'm going to throw up.

Puke all you want later. There's still others to deal with.

Right. Gazing away from his corpse I swallowed down on the bile in my throat and called out over comms, "One of the male targets is down."

"Good. I can't get a bead on the others. Where are they?" Svensson replied over comms.

Toombs responded with a growl, "They retreated deeper into the cargo hold and activated some kind of electronic warfare. I can't find them."

Snapping out of my daze I warned, "This one was using optical cloaking and almost got the drop on me."

"Shit. You hear that Tasmin?"

"Yeah. These pirates have some high priced toys? They still drop dead the same as anyone else, Fifth."

Out of the corner of my eye to the left I saw the female biotic appear in a distorted rush past my position on a direct path towards Sergeant Svensson with a reckless one handed spray of her Locust and her biotics flaring. The strobing effect made her appear to be moving in slow motion, but in reality it was too late for my team leader to stop her. Dashing forward down the aisle I turned the corner just in time to see as Sergeant Svensson was tossed backwards like a rag doll into a storage container by a biotic effect and fall awkwardly onto the floor plates, her Harrier assault rifle skidding away from her grasp. Petty Officer Russell dived behind the console as the female biotic unleashed a burst of slugs his way.

[\ Warning! Sergeant Svensson, Franciska: Incapacitating Injury; Requires Medical Assistance At Earliest Convenience \]

Reacting on trained instinct I thrust my left arm out and flick my hand upwards at the wrist. My body erupted with the tingle and dizzy feeling of a biotic aura as I yanked the woman off her feet with enough force that she slammed chest first into the ceiling above with a horrendous crunch of her spine and ribs. I released the field in a panic and her forward momentum tossed her into a tumbling heap that skidded and rolled across the floor until coming to rest against a storage container.

"Franny, what's going on?"

Holy fuck.

Relax.

Holy fuck. I think I just killed someone with my biotics.

You killed that batarian on Mindoir with your biotics.

That was different. I was fighting for my life and panicked. I didn't know what I was doing. But this... I was trained to do this.

"Situation is under control, Tasmin." A groan interrupted my thoughts as Svensson sat up and struggled to her feet with Petty Officer Russell's help, clearly favoring her lower back in the process. Once on her feet she stalked forward to snatch her Harrier from the floor and gave the woman's body a hard glare before looking my way with a stiff thankful nod.

Nodding back in a daze I gazed at the woman's crumpled form and grimaced, disturbed by what my biotics were capable of.

"That's one way to deal with a rage zombie. Guess it pays to have a biotic on the team, huh?"Toombs sauntered up and chuckled, admiring my handiwork with his Piranha slung over his shoulder.

Already on edge I snorted mirthlessly and sighed wearily, leaning forward to rest my hands on my knees and stop myself from hyperventilating against the backdrop of the battle still raging in the corridor outside.

Sergeant Svensson gave him a pointed glare and then looked beyond him to something on the floor a dozen container rows away. My own gaze joined hers and found the corpse of the final assailant slumped against a container and looking like he had taken a shotgun blast to the face at point blank range.

That seems a tad bit excessive.

Petty Officer Russell gasped and looked away while Svensson redirected her gaze to Zeke, silently questioning him with her pointed stare. Gesturing over his shoulder towards the corpse he darkly replied, "Hey you're the one that said turn him into a bloody mess, Sergeant. Guess he's not going to be shooting people in the back with shotguns ever again after I introduced him to a little payback with interest."

Grunting humorlessly Svensson shuffled over to Vigneron's shivering body but before she could say or do anything the cavalry arrived, "Blackfish Five Bravo, Blackfish Three Alpha in position at far end of corridor. Ready to clean house?"

Svensson gestured to Toombs and myself to keep an eye on Vigneron while she walked towards the doorway to help coordinate mopping up the surviving attackers in the corridor.

Gazing at the dead woman I could feel the adrenaline leaving my body, my left shoulder beginning to throb and ache from the impact of the slugs she had fired earlier.

Well at least the sims got that part right.

Except the pain and discomfort won't disappear with the end of this mission.

I don't think any of what I experienced today is going to disappear anytime soon.

Rolling my shoulder slightly caused Toombs to chuckle further, "First time getting shot, right?"

Seems you had quite a few firsts today.

I nodded, not at all pleased or proud with the experience.

Toombs looked back at the dead woman and shook his head, "Rumble drugs, wraiths, phasic rounds, and all sorts of high end ECM? But you saw how they were behaving? No real training. Just spray and pray. Where the hell do pirates get the kind of credits to fund an operation like this?"

Eager to latch onto something else besides my dark internal musings I wondered out loud, "Seems like her biotics were fairly well trained. Probably an L2."

As I began to contemplate the situation my stomach plummeted, wondering if this woman was forced into this lifestyle because she needed to pay for whatever neurological issues the implant might be causing her.

Or rather had been causing her.

You don't know that. You don't know anything except that she was trying to kill all of you.

At my observation Toombs hummed and knelt to inspect the SMG that lay less than a meter from her body. "Locust. Supposed to be illegal in Charter Space after that double assassination back on Earth in the forties. Kinda makes you wonder what's in that container now, huh?"

Indeed.

Before I could respond the woman's eyes opened with a glossed over look of feral madness that took stock of her surroundings.

What the fuck?

In a microsecond she triggered her omni-blade and lunged towards Toombs, but my training kicked in and my Hurricane smoothly tracked her movements. With barely a conscious thought I fired, punching through her head at the right temple with a quick burst. Blood and brain matter splattered across the storage container and floor as the omni-blade came down and severed her own left leg above the knee before deactivating and being dissociated.

Well that was abrupt.

Toombs rolled back and stood up, aiming his shotgun at the corpse in fear as his chest heaved. "Shit!"

Still coordinating the counterattack from the doorway Sergeant Svensson called out with concern. "What happened?"

I couldn't answer, my mind still reeling.

"Shepard! Toombs!"

I snapped out of my daze and began rambling. "She, uh, shit. She lunged at Zeke. Omni-blade. I shot her. In the head."

It sounded so surreal to say out loud. I glanced down at her mangled corpse and took in how how her pale skin and shocking coloring of her hair contrasted against the red blood and bits of flesh from the wounds in her head. Wounds I had put there.

Even her eyes were haunting deep shade of blue that reminded me of Klara.

Oh hell, how was I ever going to face her after this? Why would she ever want to be with a cold-blooded killer? A biotic monster?

She'll never see you like that. She'll understand.

Really? Just like that? She changes the subject whenever I bring up the reality of being a biotic Marine.

But she loves you. Love is a powerful thing.

Svensson looked between the two of us and nodded slowly, "All right. We're mopping up here. The LT is on her way down."

Behind her Staff Sergeant Adame and the rest of the squad entered, gazing at the carnage left by the brief firefight with the suicidal attackers. Adame stared at Vigneron and then Petty Officer Russell, who looked mildly shaken behind the faceplate of his helmet. "So what the fuck was so important to these assholes?"

Now that's the trillion credit question.

Russell gathered himself with a sigh and gestured towards the container in question. "Based on the limited scans I got of the container? My best guess is basic components of IR laser defense systems. Neodymium tubes."

Seriously? Those things were practically commonplace.

Snorting to myself I was overcome with a bit of deliriousness, "They did this all for GARDIAN components?"

"Unregistered directed energy weaponry in the hands of pirates and insurrectionists is no laughing matter, Private Shepard." Lieutenant Nesterovic interrupted and walked through the door while she observed the scene in the cargo hold. After staring a bit too long at the dead and mangled bodies she glanced at all the living occupants. "Someone going to tell me what happened here?"

Where to start?

How about with a drink, massage, and a nap? In that order.

"Rumble drugs and some impressive tech, ma'am. Took a beating before they went down. Private Shepard hit this one with a biotic field but when she insisted on continuing to attack he put slugs through her head. Her buddies back there decided to chew on some slugs courtesy of Corporal Toombs and Private Shepard rather than be taken alive. The three outside were held off successfully by the rest of the squad. Three Alpha finished them off." Svensson updated the LT in a precise and no nonsense manner.

The LT slowly nodded and asked, "Any injuries?"

"Private Shepard, Corporal Toombs, and myself, ma'am. Nothing life threatening but we're going to have some aches and pains." Svensson crisply replied around a grimace.

That's an understatement.

Now you really have incentive to never get shot.

I already had that. Didn't help with the whole actually avoiding getting shot part.

Lieutenant Nesterovic moved behind Toombs and examined the flechettes buried into the spinal armor along his back, wincing behind her visor and remarking, "It's even more impressive none of you sustained serious injuries. This is some serious weaponry for a suicide squad. Couldn't be some operation run by two credit punks."

"That's what I said, ma'am" Toombs chimed in, twisting slightly to alleviate the pain in his back.

"The important part is that you're all going to walk away from this. Excellent work, Marines. I'll have Sergeant Qadeer and Staff Sergeant Derousseau report here momentarily to render medical assistance." The Lieutenant nodded in recognition of our efforts and accessed her omni-tool.

The rest of the squad took the opportunity of her distraction to huddle around myself and Toombs, eagerly exchanging war stories and bragging rights. Something I wanted no part of right now.

Of course no one seemed to notice that. "Hey is it true you crunched that bitch with your biotics, Luis?"

I glared darkly at Zach for his crass question but Zeke intervened with his typical bombastic storytelling, "Oh you should have seen it. One second the woman is running and screaming at Svensson after tossing her around like dirty underwear, and the next Luis is stepping out from behind some container and smashing her in half against the ceiling. Still shocked that didn't kill her but rumble drugs will keep you going even when you should be dead."

I grimaced and glanced away at his description and the stares I got from the others. Sure they were more impressed than anything with what I had done, but this is why biotics have the reputation of being violent and terrifying.

A reputation I've lived up to it would seem.

The Lieutenant perked up at our discussion and gazed at me with a peculiar glint in her eyes that was visible even behind her faceplate. "I'm particularly interested to see the reports and logs on how effective Shepard's biotics were in combat."

Oh, hell. I can't deal with this. Not today.

"Battle logs are being processed and collated, Lieutenant Second Grade Nesterovic. "

"Forward the biotic report to my datapad as soon as it's done, Alfons." Shutting off her omni-tool she looked back at Russell and asked curiously, "You're positive that's what you found, Petty Officer?"

Russell shrugged and nodded, "Pretty damn sure, ma'am. Records state there should be some raw tungsten ready for refining in the container. Only way to be sure it to crack the container open but from the scans I did everything matches with post production tubes built for class two or three vessel laser defense against space debris."

Satisfied with everything she had heard the LT turned to Staff Sergeant Adame and Sergeant Svensson, "Your squad handled this remarkably well, sergeants. Neutralized the threats and secured the evidence while avoiding friendly casualties, major damage to the freighter, or significant loss of cargo."

Adame shook her head and replied "My team did their job, ma'am."

The LT glanced again at the corpses and then back at Adame, "Well it's not our problem anymore, Staff Sergeant. We write up a report and have Alfons forward logs. Navy and ONI can run an investigation from there. I'm sure the ONI attache to the Patrol Group is just itching to get her hands on these omni-tools and weapons."

"What about him?" El Mofty gestured to Vigneron who still lay on the ground, cuffed and sobbing silently.

Glancing coldly at the man Lieutenant Nesterovic snarled, "Leave him. The medics can see to him after they've tended to your injuries. We don't touch anything. Let Navy do the clean up and processing of prisoners."

---

Master Control Bay, Engineering Deck, T-GES Registered Springhill Class Mining Freighter SA/EFV-TG7348 'Hawkhurst', Slipstream Sector 38, Arcturus Stream Star Cluster; September 11th, 2573 [Standardized Terran Calendar], 1044 [Synced Terran Time, Terran Standard], 0810 [Mission Clock, Terran Standard]

It only took a handful of hours for the Navy techs to make the necessary repairs to the translight engine and have the Hawkhurst fully operational. The entire civilian crew was detained in a brig aboard the frigate Ipsus and our platoon had been ordered to stay aboard to provide security for the Naval crew operating the seized vessel as it was escorted by a pair of frigates from the patrol group back to Czarnobog. From there it would be handed over to military and government investigators so they could have their fun tearing apart every centimeter of the vessel while T-GES talked to their lawyers.

Can't even imagine how that vidchat would play out.

Poorly and costly.

So after a brief but well earned rest for our exemplary duty earlier my squad now had the honor of guard duty on the engineering deck as the massive mining ship rocketed through the slipstream. Which wasn't nearly so bad since it mostly consisted of sitting around and playing cards with the Marine and Navy engineers between periodic patrols of the deck.

Light and easy duty with plenty of downtime to kill.

Except for the whole part about being in close proximity to an active drive core.

Right. That thing was throwing off enough dark energy and static electricity to make my body tingle constantly to the point of driving me fucking insane. And yet somehow even that wasn't enough to occupy my mind as I had more pressing matters weighing me down.

It was standard practice that each Marine involved in a firefight or significant incident be asked to file a report. Nothing serious. They weren't looking for every detail since the battle logs would give analysts and investigators a better sense of what happened. They just wanted our perspectives of what we saw and why we acted the way we did.

And that's where I had run into a bit of problem because of my current emotional turmoil.

Is that what we're calling guilt and shock?

Writing up my perspective should have been simple and to the point, but the more I tried to recall the events the more I was forced to contend with my thoughts and feelings.

Understandable. This is a pretty big event. You need time to process it.

Except the UNSC wasn't going to accept an excuse while I 'processed things'. So I slogged through the report with as little detail as possible and then tried to get my mind off of things.

Avoidance. Always a healthy thing.

Yeah well I needed to get some coursework done for my college classes and optional military training done anyways. Nothing better to do during downtime like this, right?

And how has that worked out for you?

I've been staring at the same paragraph for five minutes on my datapad. Between the maddening tingle from the drive core and replaying my actions over and over I was slowly succumbing to distracted annoyance.

As my fraying temper neared critical meltdown I was consumed with the fact that I had killed two people today. I mean, I knew that technically I had killed someone before. Two people, coincidentally, although Ari had given the mortal wound to the asari. And I had thrown that biotic punch at Pavlo that could have killed him. But all of those were incidental and in the heat of the moment. I wasn't necessarily trying to kill anyone. I was acting out of instinct and emotion. Hell, in the case of the batarian I'm still not even sure how I had managed to do that without having any biotic training or bioamp.

You reacted out of instinct today as well.

Yeah, trained instincts to kill that I appeared to have a natural talent for.

Except you're not a natural biotic killer. Remember the other batarian? The one you shot twice with a batarian kishock rifle?

Balak.

Yeah, him. When you had the chance to kill him you hesitated.

But there was little hesitation in my actions today.

You know why. This is your job now, but it's not all you are.

Maybe deep down it was easy to rationalize this but my mind wasn't comforted by that. Desperate to make sense of this situation I picked at stray thoughts like loose threads until my psyche unraveled.

Why do you think this was different?

The situation? Me? The training? Did I just react and not think?

Maybe I had outgrown the fear and emotions that held me back that day? Matured a bit? Could this even be considered a sign of maturity?

Or maybe I had learned to shut all of that down during combat? Turned into a cold blooded biotic killer who acted on instinct?

What if this was how it started for a biotic? The easy and natural impulse for violence?

The last thought brought on a surge of emotion that I barely contained with a tense jaw and clenched fists as I leaned back against a wall.

What if I was becoming the stereotype of what everyone thought of biotics in the military? A monster in a uniform?

Do you really think that's what you are?

I don't know. All of that was too easy today.

Do you think your family would see you like that? Or Klara?

What if they're wrong? What if the next time I lose my temper or overreact to a threat around them I hurt someone?

What about your sisters? They're biotics. Are they monsters?

No.

Then realize you're stressed out and tearing yourself apart with hypotheticals.

Right. If I didn't get a handle on these thoughts soon I was going to start screaming and punching walls.

Which wouldn't help your case of not being a deranged biotic.

But it was something I couldn't just ignore. I had to pick at it or scratch. Like a scab or persistent itch. Like the damn tingling coursing through my body that I wanted to stop. I couldn't dull the annoyance of either of these things and it was maddening.

Following these thoughts down dark and twisted paths left me feeling more conflicted than sure of my actions. Okay, so maybe my actions were justified, but what about that female biotic? Who the hell was she?

Someone who tried to kill you.

I know that, but I couldn't help but feel some... I don't know. Kinship? Shared identity?

Fear that could have been you?

With a shuddering breath my mind conjured up wild speculations into her background in the absence of solid information. All I knew was that she was a biotic hiding on the ship, tried to kill us, and was probably associated with the contraband cargo aboard.

Not much to go by.

That obviously wasn't the first time she had ever attacked someone. She was probably some low life scum who had killed her way across the galaxy and I had done everyone a service by avenging the innocent who might have been slain at her hands. I mean, who else makes smuggling a career and thinks turning into a rage zombie to fight UNSC Marines on a ship with disabled FTL capabilities is a good idea? For all I knew she could have been one of the pirates on Mindoir that day.

Problem was, for every soothing rationalization I came up with the unsure corners of my psyche conjured up two more that made my skin crawl.

Maybe she was another victim of the Systems Alliance's horrendous policies towards biotics and was doomed to a life of smuggling and shady mercenary work? Cursed as a biotic with few opportunities and even worse luck looking to get away from things and wound up working for smugglers as a hired gun to make ends meet.

That sounds familiar. Maybe even familial.

That last thought gave me pause. Replace smugglers with the UNSC and that's me.

You did point out if one or two events in your life were different you wouldn't be the same person.

Yeah. But how much different would my life be if Mom hadn't protected us from being registered as biotics for so long? Or if I didn't have my grandparents or extended family after the raid on Mindoir? Would I be the one dead from popping rumble drugs and getting into a shootout with Marines because I tried to earn some credits for Ari, Lizzy and myself?

That unsettling thought left me with darker implications of Lizzy being forced into an erotisim career to afford her education like Klara had been.

What about your father?

Oh, fuck. How could I have forgotten that dad left Earth at a young age to work in the Terminus as a smuggler? Did that mean he was involved stuff like this?

It's possible.

My heart clenched painfully at the idea of just what my father's smuggling career might have entailed. Is that why he never mentioned it to us? Was he ashamed of what he had done? Did he carry some sort of demons that haunted him into being the way he was?

If he did would you think of him differently?

I don't know. It makes me view things about him differently, obviously. It explains some of his behavior. Maybe he was always slow to anger because he knew what happened when things got violent?

Did mom know? Like actually know the specifics of what he had done? Could that have been the reason for her souring on the marriage?

That certainly gave a new perspective to my father's penchant for alcoholism towards the end of his life. Maybe instead of fighting for his marriage he turned towards the next bottle of booze because he was always assumed that inevitably Mom would see him for the monster he truly was?

Those sort of burdens can destroy you from the inside out.

Guess that also explained why my grandfather loathed him. He had a clearer perspective from the start of just what it meant for Albert to have been a smuggler. What sins he might have committed.

Sins that transferred over to your mother and your family. Sins that might have gotten them killed.

That thought settled into my stomach like a weight that left me queasy as I contemplated how my father's actions from before I was even born echoed long after he was dead. What did that say about me, or my future with Klara?

What if one day she realizes she's no longer comfortable being with a me because of my biotics or my military career? What if she finally realizes that I'm a burden to her or any potential children we might have?

Frustration and annoyance set in as becoming lost down the rabbit hole of what ifs and dark thoughts had lead me back to more questions, doubts, and fears. I slammed my head back against the wall of the engineering room and growled, partly in pain and partly in anger. "Fuck!"

"Private First Class Shepard your behavior and vitals show abnormal signs of elevated stress that do not correspond with your current environment and activities. This is a precautionary warning. Continued escalation will warrant a lockdown of all weapon systems registered to you."

Fucking tattletale VI.

"You alright, Private?" Sergeant Adame was giving me a peculiar and concerned stare. Looking around the room and I could see everyone else was just as puzzled by my behavior, having stopped what they were doing to observe me.

Not wanting to really talk about it I replied "Just having trouble thinking straight. Busy day and I'm burnt out."

Not entirely untrue.

Getting the impression no one bought my bullshit, I gestured in the direction of the active drive core and grumbled, "Plus that thing is driving me crazy. It's making my whole body tingle. Biotic thing."

Well it wasn't a complete lie so much as bending the truth. Omitting some details.

Details that you'd rather not share.

For a very good reasons.

Everyone went back to minding their own business and playing cards. Everyone except for Toombs who looked a bit pensive. In the awkward silence that followed I avoided his gaze and went back to staring at my datapad, not really reading it but feeling several pairs of eyes on me.

Toombs cleared his throat and apprehensively said, "Luis, I never thanked you for-"

"Not a problem, Zeke." My tensions skyrocketed again as I gently cut him off while my hands gripped the datapad until they hurt.

I couldn't be thanked. Not for that. Not right now. My mind was already spinning in circles over this. I didn't need some additional weird guilt of having someone thank me for what I had done.

"Private First Class Shepard your behavior and vitals show abnormal signs of elevated stress that do not correspond with your current environment and activities. This is your second and final warning. Continued escalation will warrant a lockdown of all weapon systems registered to you."

That's it. First thing I'm doing when I get back to Czarnobog is figuring out how to reprogram my wetware and gear so Alfons minds his own fucking business.

"Grab your gear, Shepard. The two of us are taking the next patrol. Get you away from this drive core." I glanced up and saw Sergeant Svensson grab her rifle and motion for me to follow.

Seeing through her haptic thin ruse but welcoming the chance to get away from the waves of dark energy I sighed and collapsed my datapad, placing it into one of the pouches attached to my chestplate. Pushing off the wall to stand I winced as my bruised left shoulder bore the weight of my body and then followed her out of the engineering room while slipping on my helmet.

We walked down the length of the engineering deck central corridor, passing bays for the energy storage arrays, life support systems, fabrication facilities, and various other rooms in an unnerving silence. I kept waiting for her to speak and make her motives clear as to why she had singled me out for this patrol.

Take a wild guess.

In my current state? I'd rather not speculate about anything.

Reaching the end we came to the central drone control room and stepped inside. The automatic lighting flickered on to a dim setting and the vacuum doors sealed shut behind us. Laid out before us through the observation window was the enchanting spectacle of slipstream travel. An endless sea of black with faint blue streaks filtered through the faint purple and gold bubble of the quantum shielding. It was pretty the first couple of times you see it, but eventually just becomes a boring and blurry mess once it lost the novelty.

Right now all it did was remind me about where the ship was headed and why.

Svensson leaned against a control panel and took off her helmet. Closing her eyes she ran her gauntlet covered hand through her short and straight dark blonde hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of her head, scratching her scalp and humming in pleasure. When she was finished she glanced my way and casually gave me an order "Take the brain bucket off. I want to see your face for this conversation."

And here we go. Time to get chewed out.

Reaching up to my collar I grasped the base of my helmet and used my neural link to deactivate the seal, the sucking sensation replaced by a rush of cool air from the room as I slipped it off. Placing the helmet on the flat surface of the control panel I had trouble looking at her, instead choosing to fiddle with the collar and the small etching of my initials there.

You certainly left your mark today.

"The first time is never fun. I still remember mine. Was... four? Damn, time flies. But four years ago." I paused at her softly spoken musings, feeling naked and defensive as she managed to hit my sore spot with ease. Continuing she clarified, "Not talking about combat, of course. Combat is easy. You're trained and conditioned to not think and react. In a fight you drop them and move on. But the ones you have to put down after standing face to face with them? Talked to them or looked them in the eye? Thought you had them beaten and subdued? Feels cold after it's done, doesn't it? A little guilty? Like it was too personal? An execution or something you had to do correct your mistakes?"

Having my inner most feelings and thoughts laid bare coupled with the damn static electric charge that persisted was driving me insane. Feeling impulsive and wanting to rid myself of everything I clawed at my right gauntlet and and vambrace until I pulled them off. Once exposed I frantically undid the A/X MCU suit at the wrist and tore the undersuit glove away, ignoring the pain as my left shoulder throbbed. With my bare hand exposed I clamped down on the metal surface of the railing near the control panel and felt the satisfying sting as the jolt of static electricity jumped from me to the ship with an audible snap. The orange glow of the passive holographic display on the console flickered from the electrostatic discharge.

Breathing deeply and calmly I relished the silence in my mind and the absence of the tingling in my body. With the tempest swirling all around me the ship had grounded me. Literally.

Wow. That's almost poetic if don't consider the part where you could have damaged a control panel for the ship.

Sergeant Svensson calmly waited for my outburst to finish and gently asked, "So what is it? You running alternate scenarios in your head? Wondering what you could have done differently? What it says about you? Or taking a wild guess about who that person was? What led them to that moment? Maybe feel bad about killing another biotic?"

By now my eyes were burning, the frustration turning inwards as I held back tears. The sting in my hand had turned into a faint throb, which paled in comparison to the dull ache of my shoulder. "Yeah."

She nodded, looking back out the reinforced double layered window. She was quiet for a while, looking peaceful, but then turned her gaze back at me with her piercing green eyes. "I'm not big on philosophy or figuring out people's motives. We are what we do. Our actions. They chose to put up a fight instead of doing the sensible thing and surrendering. There was no way they were going to defeat an entire UNSC patrol group with just some hand held weapons no matter how many fancy tech toys they had. They forced our hand and lost their lives in the gamble."

I sighed and nodded in agreement with Sergeant Svensson. It really was that simple, but what was their alternative? Capture and decades of imprisonment? I damn sure wasn't a sympathizer for insurrectionists or pirates, but I also wasn't delusional enough to believe they would allow themselves to be taken quietly.

You didn't go quietly on Mindoir.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, trying desperately to maintain the fragile and failing walls of my mind that kept my emotions in check.

If Sergeant Svensson realized the turmoil within me, she didn't mention it. Instead she continued with her one-sided discussion, "Sure, we could find out they each had a sob story later on. Something that makes them seem like tragic victims in the long run, but that doesn't change the fact they put themselves, and us, in that situation. And if you hadn't reacted or had hesitated any of us could be in a body bag right now."

And there's the stark truth at the center of this emotional storm.

You did join to protect people from pirates.

"There's so many possibilities and outcomes that it's pointless to consider them all. Don't play that game. None of that situation was within your control except your actions. You are what you do, and what you did what was necessary even if it feels wrong. We all walked away. End of story." She succinctly summed up her perspective in blunt advice that bordered on a command.

Oddly enough the urge to just follow that order instead of think for myself was almost comforting.

Almost.

My mind didn't seem interested in logic or comfort right now. All I could feel was the guilt and fear of knowing I killed people so easily now.

The guilt of past actions – or rather inactions – were weighing heavily upon my mind. Where was this cool and collected killer in me that acted without thinking when I needed him on Mindoir to avenge my parents? Or prevent Klara's mom from being taken? Or save some of the other colonists?

You can't change the past?

But what good is this ability if I can't use it to protect people I care about?

Sergeant Svensson seemed to have a direct line into my mind because she spoke yet again about what was troubling me. "I can understand that with your past it's going to tear you up inside over this. Probably a lot of thoughts and memories you'd rather forget are being dragged up. You know what? I'm fine with you having to relive them."

Looking at her queerly I couldn't fathom why she would be fine with someone on her team dealing with this. I wasn't fine with it, that's for damn sure.

Alfons clearly isn't fine with it.

Fuck that VI and whoever programmed his busybody lines of coding.

Her tone became a bit stronger, more tough. "You have experience that the galaxy is not a nice place and I think you've got a good handle on it. That puts you well head of the game, frankly."

Now I was really thrown for a loop. How the fuck did she figure I had a good handle on this?

She gazed out the open window and pounded the control panel lightly with her fist, "I'm from the outer colonies just like you but I won't pretend to know what you went through. What I do know is that you survived and made it this far. I'm pretty sure you learned something in the process. And now you're going to learn something else after today. The differences between right and wrong, good and bad outcomes. The nuance in the gray areas in between. It's never easy and people are complex, but in the end it all has to be decided within a fraction of a second. And the worst part is learning that sometimes what you do won't matter all despite how badly you want it to. Something you already knew."

That's a sobering perspective.

Real life isn't like an episode of Captain Cosmic or one of the games you play. There are no resets or respawns.

Her look intensified as she leaned closer, placing extra emphasis on what she said next. "That's what's fucking with you. You know you did what you had to do but you don't feel good about it and you're trying to find balance between those two sets of thoughts and emotions. That's your world view being recalibrated. Everything you thought you knew about morality and duty and your perceptions of the galaxy and yourself are being tested and you're trying to make sense of it. Trying to figure out what it means going forward. If you were wrong about this then what else could you be wrong about?"

Apparently a lot.

I looked away and scowled, not really mad at her but at what she said. It was right at the heart of my inner turmoil.

I had been wrong about my parents. Wrong about my grandparents. Wrong about Klara.

Wrong about myself.

Maybe I'm not cut out to do this?

Or maybe you are.

That's even scarier.

The sergeant took her helmet in hand and used it to tap my chestplate lightly, her tone more soft and reassuring now. "And that's the point, Shepard. You'll never know enough. Something new will always come and bite you in the ass and make you look like a fool who thought he knew it all. But because of the way you conduct yourself I know you're not going to take the easy route in the future. You'll work hard to learn everything you can to prevent being put in this position again, even if it's only a selfish desire to avoid this feeling. You'll train harder and learn new skills. Trust your gut instincts and intuition when they tell you something. Find the courage to speak up when you see something wrong even when it won't win you any friends. Stay vigilant and ready to take someone down even though you want a peaceful solution. Absorb all intel and examine all the angles for things being missed. And above all you're going to remember that even with all this hard work you could still fail, but that won't stop you from trying."

Unable to meet her eyes, I glanced down at the subdued holographic display of the control panel. Pondering the wisdom of her words left me with conflicting feelings of having my raw emotions being exposed a new sense of purpose in a dark moment.

I had known for some time now that my hope of joining the UNSC to put off making a choice about my life had been foolish. If anything I had unwittingly committed to the UNSC for the foreseeable future given my biotic status. So I had immersed myself in the process of becoming worthy of an inevitable invite to ICT. Worked tirelessly to prove to my family wrong that I could make something of myself and my talents.

And more than anything I wanted... no needed, to prove to myself that I could push my limits and prevent another Mindoir from happening.

That might not be as easy as you originally thought.

No, but I would have to learn to accept that there were things that I couldn't learn from a trainer or program. That I had to experience them firsthand without even knowing that it was a lesson I needed to learn. All I could do was get back up, learn from my failures and mistakes, and keep trying.

That applies to your life outside of the military as well.

As much as that might have cleared a great deal of the uncertainty in my life, I had the nagging suspicion that the price wasn't worth it. The single worst way to learn a lesson if you ask me.

Weren't you listening? The single worst way to learn would have been if someone on the team had died because you hesitated or didn't have the necessary skills. Like on Mindoir.

Her sigh cut through my annoyance. I looked her way to see she was blankly staring out the window again with a bit of a brooding look on her face. "Stick around long enough and you'll see people lose it going through the same thing you are. You might even start to recognize people in the unit that show the symptoms of failing to navigate this on their own. There's no shame in not being cut out for this. But you have to watch out that you don't end up like them. Some of them become bitter. Look for others to blame for what they are feeling. Those are the ones that end up going to either end of the spectrum. Some pin all of their guilt on the Systems Alliance or Council. They blame them and their policies for what they had to face and do. Others take out all their emotions on innies and pirates. Think that since they break laws it's open season on them. Sometimes you see it turn into xenophobia. And then some shut down. Think that this job means you have to stop being human. Those are the shoot first and ask questions later murderer in a UNSC uniform types that give the rest of us a bad rep."

Glancing at her askance I could see seemed to be in deep thought on the matter herself, and I was reminded of her reaction to Toombs killing that smuggler with a shotgun. Now I began to wonder about his mentality on the matter. How casually he had acted in the aftermath. All the comments he'd made since I'd known him. His outlook on life and thoughts on his future. Zeke seemed like a great guy despite some character flaws. Someone you wanted on your team, but in light of what Sergeant Svensson said I had to wonder a bit about what drove him.

And what made him that way.

She lost her seriousness and smiled my way, "Makes me feel a whole lot better too now that I know this. Don't have to feel guilty about recommending you for Bravo Two."

Wait, what?

As if I couldn't be shocked any more today. My jaw dropped and I was speechless, not sure how this figured into my actions or our talk. Once that initial moment of brain lock passed my mind began whirling at the possibilities. Shouldn't the others have seniority over me? Why was I being given the recommendation and not one of them?

"You're still going strong with the higher education, right?" Bewildered at yet another non sequitur I dumbly nodded my head. She returned the nod and explained, "That's part of the mix. You've been busting your ass since you showed up here and been working hard at every task we've given you. Coupled with the higher education, the biotics, extra duties, voluntary training, and some intangibles and I think you've got a future doing this."

That was...

Good news?

More like shocking. I don't know. This was a dizzying emotional mix.

She grinned, leaning towards me and behaving co-conspiratorially, "Besides, Asma has made it clear she's not going to re-up when her enlistment is done, Hualing is seriously thinking about changing her MVC, Zach and Cata are on Tasmin's shit list, and I'm pretty sure the only thing on Nik's mind when he's not on duty are sims and vid chatting with random women."

I frowned, remembering an incident from last week where Nik had been simming again when I entered our room.

At least he was fully clothed.

Small comfort. I'm never going to be able to hear the name Isabel again without thinking about the creepy way he moaned it.

Sergeant Svensson laughed at my discomfort and put her helmet on. Activating her voice module, she dryly remarked, "I don't have to tell you this is off the record and not confirmed yet. Adame and Sokol agreed to forward it. No guarantees the rest of command approves."

Still in a daze I nodded dumbly. Even with waivers I wasn't eligible yet but it still felt good to have my hard work and potential be recognized.

It's a cause of celebration, right?

Let's not get ahead of ourselves. There's still a lot to digest about today and I doubt much of that will involve celebrating any time soon. Although I bet Klara will want to celebrate when she finds out.

Sex is a fantastic cure for depression.

Observing my reaction to this news she hit me with a little dry humor and deadpan delivery, "Good. I also need to inform you then that removing your uniform while on duty is against UNSC regulations. Now hurry up and put your gear back on before I have to write you up for insubordination, Private Shepard. I'll be in a very bad mood if you make me have to file another report today. We've got the rest of this deck to patrol."

Glaring at her sense of humor but complying, I grabbed the undersuit glove and put it back on, all the while grumbling under my breath. I might not feel that much better about what happened today, but I at least now I had something else to think about among so many other things.

---

Codex Entry: Superluminal Travel

The final barrier for any sapient race entering the interstellar phase of development is the sciences and technologies necessary for traversing the vast distances between star systems in an expeditious and organized manner. Once superluminal travel – sometimes referred to as faster than light [FTL] – is developed it presents not only the beginning of a new era of civilization but new challenges and problems. The galactic trend for achieving this phase of development has been grounded in the reverse engineering of technology and data archives found at intact Prothean Information Repository Outposts [PIRO]. Additional understanding comes through the observation of and interaction with slipstream space and the Anchored Phased Relay Gate Network [APRGN] commonly referred to as mass relays.

Modern transportation relies upon element zero to generate mass effect fields of extracted and concentrated dark energy. The size and power of a mass effect field is determined by the size and structure of the element zero drive core but costs are a limiting factor. Only Class III spacecraft and larger are classified as being capable of housing the appropriate systems that can produce powerful mass effect fields. However mass effect fields of substantial size and power generated in the spacetime brane become unstable and prone to catastrophic implosions. This inherent danger makes it impossible to safely propel any mass beyond [Terran Translation: 55% c; ~165,000 km/Terran second] using mass effect fields.

In order to achieve superluminal travel spacecraft must enter slipstream space, a collection of [11] dimensions consisting of dark energy and element zero in their primordial natural states of quintessence and aether, respectively. The unique properties of these dimensions alter the laws of physics that indirectly interacts with the spacetime brane through fundamental forces. Matter introduced to the slipstream is torn apart at the elementary level and ejected back into the spacetime brane as accelerated charged particles. Conversely matter in the spacetime brane is intangible and can not be directly interacted with in the slipstream. Gravitational fields and waves in the spacetime brane combine with clouds of aether in the slipstream to disrupt the uniformity of quintessence into flows and concentrations. The dark energy of mass effect fields is stabilized in the slipstream allowing for exceptionally large and powerful fields that can power superluminal travel.

Entering and navigating the slipstream is achieved via a translight quantum engine that works in conjunction with the element zero drive core to create and manipulate an unstable micro black hole. The resulting tear in spacetime produces a gateway that the spacecraft squeezes through to enter the slipstream. The dangers of directly interacting with the slipstream is negated by a quantum field envelope produced by the translight quantum engine but it must be meticulously calibrated throughout travel by a dedicated VI determining an enormous amount of calculations per [Terran] second. Once protected in the quantum field envelope the vessel may now take advantage of the properties of the slipstream to safely generate a mass effect field capable of allowing superluminal travel without relativistic side effects. Vessels leave the slipstream by deactivating their mass effect field and warping the quantum field envelope to force a controlled ejection, appearing in the spacetime brane in a burst of ultraviolet radiation, static electric buildup, and a temporary blue energy field known as particle reconciliation.

The quality of the spacecraft systems have the most significant impact upon vessel speed and endurance with galactic averages of [8] to [16][Terran] light years per [Terran] day and [36] to [54][Terran] hours, respectively. Operation of an element zero drive core and translight quantum engine produces considerable amounts of static electricity and thermal energy that is redirected into energy storage arrays, but extended use eventually reaches critical saturation levels that must be addressed before hazardous conditions arise. Standard practice is for spacecraft expecting to break up long trips into several shorter jumps to allow for frequent management of crucial systems. Maintenance is of particular concern as vital components become vulnerable to degradation after prolonged use in the altered physics of the slipstream and unless regularly serviced can result in catastrophic accidents.

The Anchored Phase Relay Gate Network [APRGN] – known colloquially as mass relays – are massive prothean megastructures scattered across the galaxy and widely considered the pinnacle of astroengineering mastery over mass effect and slipstream physics. Relays are remarkably identical with measurements of approximately [15][km] in length with a colossal [5][km] diameter element zero core of unknown design enclosed by a massive gyroscope ring system. Each relay is constructed of an unknown alloy enveloped in a quantum field that binds it at the subatomic level and allows the structure to be permanently phased in a manner that straddles both the spacetime and slipstream branes. This affords unique properties that makes the structure virtually indistinguishable from the surrounding stellar medium and therefore difficult to detect.

Currently there are [2] known types of relay – Primary and Secondary – but experts theorize that all relays are potentially capable of functioning in either mode of operation. A single primary relay in a centrally located star cluster acts as the hub for [4] or [5] secondary relays representing a networked grouping of star clusters. Primary relays also connect to other primary relays in neighboring networked groupings once a connection can be activated and authenticated. Relays lie dormant until approached and queried by a vessel with an astrogation VI configured to mimic prothean protocols, or are remotely activated if their networked grouping is initiated. Once activated a relay becomes locked in a stabilized orbit around a celestial body and begins the process of creating slipstream corridors linked to other relays. Free from the influences of the natural phenomena these resilient and powerful corridors have the observed effect of increasing superluminal speeds by roughly [700] fold.

The galaxy's reliance upon superluminal travel makes it imperative that regulatory precautions be taken ensure safety and streamline traffic. The Citadel Charter mandates that VIs controlling vital systems in superluminal capable spacecraft be programmed with emergency override protocols that would countermand any malicious, negligent, or erroneous commands that would result in hazardous conditions or disastrous acts. Safe Slipstream Entry & Exit Points [SSEEP] and Relay Access Zones [RAZ] are established in high traffic star systems to safely manage transit but in star systems without established infrastructure vessels must take care to consult astrogation databases and avoid entering or exiting the slipstream in proximity to celestial bodies and fields of debris.

Experts in the fields of mass effect and slipstream physics agree that the current level of superluminal travel is a crude imitation of prothean technology. A small but vocal minority of these scholars suspect that this was an intentional scheme by the protheans to uplift nascent sapient species by placing PIRO and APRGN in native star systems to guide the expected development of superluminal travel along approved paths. This is reflected in the inefficiency of self-powered superluminal travel being susceptible to the perturbations in the slipstream and the resulting imprecision in calculating is referred to as slipstream drift – an expected phenomenon in which vessels transitioning to the spacetime brane can be upwards of millions of [km] from their intended destination. Other technological limitations restrict expansion to areas of the galaxy accessible by relay and make it impractical for colonization of a star cluster to extend beyond a [40][Terran] light year radius from said relay.

It is the Covenant Empire that stands as an exception in exhibiting an unparalleled level of knowledge and expertise in manipulating mass effect and slipstream physics. Their grasp of the technological aspects in these fields allows for a remarkable and terrifying level of precision and power with estimates of Covenant warships capable of traveling roughly [200][Terran] light years in a single [Terran] day. Accuracy in plotting courses and negating the worst side effects of slipstream travel appear to utilize technologies that the rest of the galaxy is currently unaware of. This has only further increased speculation around the theories that the Covenant have successfully reverse engineered prothean technology or are actually guided by a surviving faction of the prothean civilization. The latter theory is generally met with skepticism by experts and scholars who point to the Covenant avoidance of using relays as proof of a culturally ingrained fear or lack of trust in prothean technology.