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.

38. This Way Madness Lies

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: I apologize if there was a double posting. For some reason FF had an error when I originally posted and I didn't see any verification or notification of a new chapter. I waited a while to see if it was simply an error on my end but when views did not pick up I deleted the chapter and reposted.

Here we are with another chapter. This continues with the aftermath of the events aboard the mining vessel and Shepard's changed mentality. He's beginning to undergo the process of maturing into the soldier he'll need to become, but it will not be without consequences, costs, and heartache. No doubt some of you will see how certain threads that have been building over the course of the fic are tying together to create the final trial for a young Shepard.

I'm also trying something new with the format for introducing scenes with a location and date/time stamp. I'll be splitting the two to make it easier to read instead of one long line that has variable length.

So we're looking at three to four chapters left plus an epilogue, depending upon how I can edit the next major scene.

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Reinforced Special Instruction Room S-147, Sub-Level 1, Nguyen UNSC Training Facility, Berehynia Station, UNSC Naval Depot Czarnobog, Czarnobog, Andarta, Borvo System, Arcturus Stream Star Cluster

October 9th, 2573 [Standardized Terran Calendar], 2133 [Synced Terran Time, Terran Standard]

"Damn it." My shout echoed off the training room walls as the mass effect field I was manipulating fizzled into nothing. My errant punch was easily dodged by the nimble robotic platform as it continued to hover just out of reach. Almost as if it was taunting me.

You're assigning personal motives to a VI?

I'm assigning them to the people that programmed it.

Stupid drone. Stupid programmers.

"I think we're done here, private." Lieutenant Commander Ranganathan half-frowned and shook her head at my reaction, her brown eyes simmering with irritation directed at me.

Frustrated with my performance I leaned forward with my hands on my knees to rest my sore and weary frame, grasping for control over my labored breathing and dwindling patience. Aggravated by the static tingle flowing through my uncomfortably hot and sweaty skin I knelt down and placed my bare palms on the cool metal surface of the floor plates to produce the expected electric discharge that bled off some of my annoyance and replaced it with the sting of defeat.

Well that's one thing taken care of.

Taking a moment to gather myself I finally stood erect and returned her cool glare with a surly glower of my own.

Staring down an N7 officer and biotic adept like a petulant teenager is always a good idea.

Reconsidering my foolishly misplaced anger I averted my gaze and sighed wearily, but that did little to alleviate the discomfort and disappointment I was feeling. Since returning to Czarnobog after the firefight aboard the Hawkhurst I'd been plagued by troubled dreams and bouts of stress that were playing havoc with my mind and body. Persistently throbbing headaches. Insomnia brought on by three to four hours of sleep. Decreased appetite and perpetual fatigue. Increased irritability and a drastically shorter temper. A level of cynicism and sarcasm that reached new levels, even for me.

Now I was paying for it with this biotic evaluation. What little strength and willpower I had left had been wasted until my limbs were weighed down by bitter and defeated frailty.

So how's that avoidance helping you cope?

Absolutely fucking fantastic if you only considered how hard I was throwing myself into my classes and training. Hell I was almost two months ahead on my university work and half of the unit's armory had been serviced.

It's when you factored in the toll on my health – physical and mental – that things weren't so reassuring. Seemed the only way to ensure any meaningful rest was to drive myself past exhaustion. Except now I'm realizing that it was nothing short of a minor miracle that I had yet to blow up in rage at someone or horribly screw up a task.

Until today.

Perfect timing for my biotics to go all out of whack, huh?

Yet another wonderful side effect that can be traced back to the incident aboard the Hawkhurst. Not that I fancied myself an amazing biotic expert with exceptional control over my abilities, but I had been practicing and running through these drills for weeks until I could conjure the desired mass effect fields with either hand.

Now I was completely embarrassing myself with a diminished ability to produce even the most simple stable mass effect fields.

It's almost as if you're scared of your own biotics.

Shouldn't I be? I've been so stupid. This is a gift, not a toy. One slip up and I could have seriously hurt someone.

Anyone specific?

Yeah. What the hell was I thinking using my biotics on Klara during sex? That was an accident just waiting to happen.

Some boyfriend I turned out to be.

The Lieutenant Commander interrupted my musings while consulting her active omni-tool, "Suffice to say after that dismal performance you will not be earning your second level biotic warfare badge tonight, private."

The truth embedded in her cutting jab struck the short and frayed fuse to my temper, refocusing all my inward anger and frustration on her with an irritable grunt and enraged scowl.

It's not exactly news to me that I fucked up but I wasn't about to be the target for her snide mocking. Not tonight. Not after the past few weeks I've had.

What exactly can you do about it?

I dunno. Something.

Unimpressed by my display she cocked her head to the left and coolly informed me, "Now that we have that formality out of the way you want to explain to me why I just wasted my evening watching you run through your limited vocabulary of expletives? Anything to do with what happened during your last deployment patrol?"

That broke through my negative feedback cycle of rage. I flinched and stared at her queerly, stunned by this rapid change in topic and unsure how she was even aware of what happened.

Rolling her eyes at my reaction she hummed a mocking tune and explained, "I'm a SpecWar officer with a pretty high security clearance and part of my job as your biotic instructor is to evaluate your potential and progress. You think I wouldn't have access to your records?"

My anger evaporated as I felt anxious and exposed. She had seen the battle logs? Crap.

Disconcerted and abashed I frowned in reply, "If you have the report and battle logs them I'm not sure what else you need to know, ma'am."

"In my career I've learned that despite the wealth of data and perspective provided in reports will never give me the full holo. I want to know where your mind is at. Humor me." The N7 officer folded her arms and lifted her chin, gazing at me with expectation that I begin answering her questions.

Understanding that there was no way I would get out of this without complying I rubbed my face wearily, "It was... I don't know. The sims never fully prepare you for things like that. It was all a blur and I didn't have much time to think about it until afterwards."

She nodded along with my description and bluntly added her observations, "You were sloppy and lucky. That first pirate had the drop on you for about a second and a half while he was cloaked. If he wasn't busy bleeding out he could have killed you."

I grimaced at her expected harsh criticism and hung my head, but she was only apparently warming up.

"And that female? It never should have gotten that far. She was reckless with her biotics from the start. You missed several opportunities early on to put her down when she was encased in her biotic aura." To emphasize her point she flared her own biotic aura and forcefully flicked her wrist at the training drone which was tossed into a wall by a mass effect field.

Rather ruthless isn't she?

A feeling of dread crept down my spine and sent shivers throughout my body as I had the sudden realization that this was what my future looked like. What I could possibly become. A violent biotic soldier who viewed placing others at the heart of a dark energy detonation as just another method for dealing with threats.

Is that any better than a plasma grenade or omni-blade?

That dread settled into my stomach with a queasy feeling, reminding me of the arsenal I wielded in combat so effortlessly now. What did that say about me?

Sensing my unease with the topic Ranganathan composed herself with a pinch to the bridge of her nose and admitted, "I keep having to remind myself that you have a long way to go before you're thinking like a biotic soldier. A human biotic soldier."

Her remarks provoked a myriad of doubts and concerns swirling around my mind but it also slowly occurred to me that she was the person best qualified to give me clarity on this issue. I mean being a living weapon in her element when the eezo was live is pretty much her job description.

The only question was if I had the courage to voice my worries to her. She wasn't exactly the most compassionate person I'd ever met.

What do you have to lose?

Besides my remaining shreds of dignity and self respect when she rips into me?

You lost those after the third failed attempt in a row to produce a biotic pull effect.

Biting back on the anxiety coursing through my exhausted body I cleared my throat and quietly whispered, "How do you deal with it?"

I took a small bit of pleasure in seeing the look of absolute confusion on her normally stoic face. Guess she wasn't as unflappable as I had previously surmised?

But in true N7 form she recovered from the momentary puzzlement with a disapproving glower complete with raised eyebrow and demanding glint that I explain myself quickly.

Well here goes nothing. "Being a biotic? How do you deal with it?"

Dawning comprehension manifested in a narrowed gaze and snort of amused vexation, "You mean how do I deal with idiots and bigots? Simple answer is I don't. It's not my job to be a role model and change minds just so everyone can feel better. I'm here to be the best biotic soldier in service of humanity that I can be. Your goal should be something similar."

I shouldn't have expected anything less than her brusque perspective on the matter but I was still dismayed and blurted out, "That's crazy. We're justifying the belief that biotics are inherently violent and dangerous."

And speaking of being danger prone.

My chest heaved with a renewed vigor as I realized my mistake in speaking so candidly, "Ma'am."

Ignoring my outburst she pinned me with steely glare, "Private I have seen enough of this galaxy and everything in it to know that human biotics are no more violent than anyone else. We're responsible for our individual actions and I could care less what some degenerate on Arcturus has to say. But if you're looking to change minds and hearts then you're in the wrong profession. We're soldiers and this is what we do."

Grimacing at her assertion that we were little more than living weapons I shook my head and lightly argued, "That can't be all we are, ma'am."

For the first time since I met her the Lieutenant Commander's expression softened into something resembling empathy, "You're right, but that's not for me or anyone else to decide. It's up to you to figure that out for yourself, private."

The whole figuring it out for myself is sort of the problem.

It wouldn't be bothering you if it was a simple fix.

"Right now worry about getting your head right when it comes to using your biotics effectively no matter what you are faced with." Punctuating her remarks she summoned her biotic aura and shifted her weight to launch a shaft of dark energy from our outstretched left hand that speared the floating drone and perforated it's outer shell. The forceful impact carried the damaged robotic platform into the wall where it shattered along it's cracked surface, falling to the floor in sparking scraps.

She certainly has a penchant for abusing those things, doesn't she?

Yeah, not exactly dispelling the whole 'biotics are destructively violent' angle. I wonder how many drones she goes through a month?

Of course that lead me down the dark path of imagining what mercs and pirates used for training aids. I'm guessing live targets screaming in terror.

Dismissing her aura casually she marched forward with intimidating grace until she was before me, narrowed brown eyes beneath knitted brows piercing into mine. Idly I was once more reminded that although her height barely brought her level to my nose her chilling focus demanded a healthy level of respect. "I'm not here to waste my time and neither are you so this will not happen again next week. Your assignment is to run through the basic focus and control conditioning drills until you've regained confidence in your abilities. Understood?"

Fatigued and weary I nodded my head in the hopes that I would be dismissed without further incident. No such luck. "And skip the preposterous philosophical nonsense the blue faeries use. Only proven solid techniques that work for humans. Dismissed."

Ah, there's that lovely charm.

Trudging from my spot I picked up my few belongings, stuffing them into my gym bag and made a direct line for the exit when her words – still terse but laced with a grudging respect – brought me short, "Private Shepard? Just because there's plenty of room for improvement in your skills doesn't meant you failed to deliver when it mattered. So long as you and your people can walk away from a completed objective then that's a good job."

Was that... a compliment?

Probably the closest you'll ever get from her.

Right. Probably best to simply nod and back away before she came to her senses and decided to berate me to offset the charitable things she just said.

I exited the room and made my way through the facility in a daze, my exhausted state becoming an overriding urge to sleep as I yawned passing by a group of females officers who glared at me. I couldn't be bothered to care. Shower. Food. Sleep.

And even the shower and food were negotiable at this point.

Exiting the training facility I took in a deep, stimulating breath of the cool air in the Berehynia arcology and popped in my earpieces. Selecting an upbeat song I set off in a slow trot towards my company building, trying to work out the kink and aches in my body as I lost myself in my surroundings on Czarnobog.

A twinge of pain around my upper back and shoulders reminded me of my brutal Saturday schedule: A morning combatives lesson followed by an afternoon visit to the gym and topped off with the late evening biotic training session.

On days like this I really regretted accepting the challenge of stacking so much training on a day off.

Today's combatives lesson consisted of the usual physical conditioning and reflex drills, but it's my gym time that had been eventful. While using the pull up bar station I foolishly accepted an unspoken challenge to an impromptu contest with an impossibly large guy wearing the iconic black helljumper shirt.

Needless to say I lost in spectacular fashion. Absolutely crushed me. I didn't even come close.

And I'm still not certain it was a fair competition. While it's entirely possible he was naturally that large it was suspicious how he knocked out a jaw-dropping amount of pull ups in the span of two minutes and still managed to be bright and cheerful with hardly a sweat broken.

Or maybe you're just upset at being embarrassed.

Oh I'll readily admit that. I'm not making excuses. I'm just saying that he might not have been a Spartan or something, but you'll never convince me that he was fully human. Not even the standard genetic upgrades and augmentations N-series received in upon completion of ICT Phase One could explain that.

And yet you still accepted the challenge.

I'm pretty sure this sort of self-inflicted misery had to classify me as a masochist or something.

Punishing yourself for something perhaps?

I'm not even going to deign that with a response.

Mostly because you're too afraid to examine your own emotions and motives.

Or maybe I'm too damn tired to give anything except my pillow deep consideration.

With that I turned up the volume on music and closed my eyes, blocking out everything and letting the sway of my movements soothe me. On the bright side my doomed attempt to keep pace with that cyborg had allowed me to smash Zeke's record on pull ups by twelve. So, despite the weariness and embarrassment I'd endured all day there was a small victory that made it worth the trouble and discomfort.

Although I'm going to be paying for it tomorrow morning. The only thing on my agenda from here to Monday morning was to sleep in as much as possible.

Well, after I bragged to Zeke. If I had to suffer the sting of defeat then it's only fair I share the wealth with him.

Shifting my attention towards observing my dreary surroundings I was once more reminded why they named this place after a black god. Then again I'm almost positive it's in a manual somewhere that generals and admirals back on Arcturus or Earth consulted whenever thinking about setting up a military installation.

Step one: Where can we place UNSC personnel to maximize their depression and misery at all times? Freezing temperatures preferable.

I was interrupted in my morbid musings when the music streaming from my omnitool to my earpieces slowly died down in volume as my omni-tool's operating system VI announced,"Incoming vidchat from Klara Palinkas."

With a sighed I stopped my jog to tap the haptic notification only to hesitate accepting the incoming call from Klara.

Avoiding her too, huh?

I'm in no condition to be of use to anyone in a conversation, let alone my girlfriend.

Except normally you'd jump at the opportunity to let her comfort you.

Hanging my head and closing my eyes I drew in a deep breath to center myself and push aside my anxiety. Accepting the call I lifted my left arm to head height and was rewarded with a blue tinged holographic display of my raven haired goddess beaming that amazing smile of hers.

"Hey sexy." Her voice was playful until she got a good look at me. That smile warped into a concerned frown, her blue eyes tinged with sympathy as she examined my appearance, "Are you alright, babe?"

"Ouch. Well hello to you too, hermosa." Playfully mugging at her reaction I bit back on a laugh as I imagined I probably looked like a sweaty and exhausted mess right now. "I'm fine. Just finished my biotic training. Ready to take a shower and sleep."

Her concern ebbed at my remarks, shifting into lustful mischief by biting her lip and staring at me with a sultry gaze. "Mmmm. Working up sweat and then rubbing all those hard muscles in a hot steamy shower? Are you trying to tease me?"

"Is it working?" I joked, feeling flattered but too tired to do much more. Taking joy in bursting the bubble on her little fantasy with a little deadpan snark I continued, "I'm more worried that I might fall asleep while standing in the shower. It's going to be so sexy when I collapse and bust my face open. Blood everywhere."

"You just can't let me have my fun, can you?" She quirked her lips to fight off a smile, but relented at seeing how truly tired I looked. Instead she pouted and whined about the luck of her timing, "So I take it you can't talk again? Babe you've been so busy lately. I feel like we've barely spoken in the past few weeks since Draco."

I winced with guilt at the tone of her voice. I didn't want her getting the impression that I was looking for an excuse not to talk to her.

Wonder where she would get that idea?

It wasn't as simple as avoiding her. Far from it. Every fiber of my being yearned for her, but despite the progress made to our relationship things were still fragile.

Shutting her out isn't going to help matters.

But neither is burdening her with my problems when I didn't even fully understand them. As it is I was increasingly aware of her subconscious desire to avoid any discussion about the troubling aspects of my being in the UNSC, or being a biotic for that matter. She shut the conversation down whenever it became uncomfortably serious and sought to distract me with her charms and sex appeal.

Then talk to her about that.

And say what? Hey babe I really love how sweet and sexy you are but it's come to my notice that you always change the subject whenever the the reality of my being a biotic in the UNSC Marines comes up. Oh, and by the way, I just sort of had a traumatic experience where I killed two people and now I'm realizing that I've been inexcusably reckless when it comes to my biotics and your safety. Plus I'm having this identity crisis pertaining to my parents and my biotics.

That about covers it. But enough about me, how have things been going for you?

A relationship is about more than sex and intimacy. It's about trust and communication.

I know that. The sex and intimacy thing wasn't the problem. It definitely wasn't a problem. We had that part handled pretty damn well. No question. If our chemistry together was anymore fiery and explosive it would be a plasma grenade.

But the trust and communication part? We struggled with that. Sure our banter flowed so easily and we both wanted this relationship to really work that I didn't doubt for an instant that we connected on that level. Yet it always seemed forced. Like we were trying to make up for lost time and opportunities.

Plus she had this annoying habit of omitting important things or being so casually blunt about what she does for a living despite knowing how much it made me feel uncomfortable.

And now you're holding out on telling her important things.

I know, I know. Big hypocrite, right? But she had a point. How do you explain to someone you feel strongly about that you're afraid of them rejecting you for something so intrinsic to who you are?

You trust in their love for you to be unconditional.

There's that word again. Trust. It's hard to ask that of someone when I didn't even fully understand what had happened to me that day on the Hawkhurst. Something about me had changed. I don't know what, but I can feel it and I'm terrified of what it might mean. Of what it might mean for us.

You're letting your fear control things. Trust her.

I do trust her, but until I figured this out myself it wasn't worth stressing her out.

This will not end well.

It's going to be fine. We're good. Our relationship has already weathered so much. I doubt me taking a couple of weeks to get my shit together over something as serious as what happened on the Hawkhurst was going to ruin it.

Besides I was planning on visiting her on Benning for a weekend trip around the end of the month anyways. That gave me plenty of time to work out whatever issues I had so I could have this talk with her face to face. She'd be her usual amazing self and we'd laugh over my foolishness. Then I'd be entranced by the way her blue eyes sparkled in dim lighting and eventually I'd have the comfort of her warm softness molded against my body while we lost ourselves in passion.

Crisis averted.

You're daydreaming about her when she's on vidhcat right now.

"I'm really sorry about that, Klara." I made an obvious attempt to push past my exhaustion and turmoil to be contrite and caring. Smiling broadly I reassured her, "I swear I'll make it up to you when I get to Benning."

Her face lost it's petulant sulk and erupted in elation, "I'm going to hold you to that promise, mister. Any idea when that's going to happen? So I can make sure to clear my schedule."

Really, Klara?

Just when I was feeling better about how I had handled the situation she had to go and mention her erotisim career. Grunting and glowering I allowed my mouth to run with unfiltered thoughts before I could stop it. "Great job ruining the mood, hermosa."

My heart squeezed painfully and I repeatedly mentally chastised myself as she froze in hurt shock at my remark.

Fuck. Fuck. Damn it.

Brilliant response.

This is exactly why I was thinking of avoiding her call. I'm tired and stressed and moody and in no shape to be having this conversation with her right now.

Apparently.

Her stunned expression soured into a brooding glare that marred her beautiful face with deep creases around her brow and eyes. The agony of her silence dragged on for several seconds before she answered, her voice low and icy in withering sarcasm, "Well I'm sorry if my attempts to be considerate actually inconvenience you, babe, but I figured I'd rearrange my on call times so as to spare you the experience of having to hang out around my place while I worked in the evenings. Unless of course you'd like to listen in or watch?"

Her deliberately hurtful remarks hit me squarely in the gut, knotting up my lower abdomen in queasy jealousy and insecurity. Furious with her over that unnecessary provocation I shook my head and glanced away in silence, my jaw set with a tightness that made my teeth ache.

The fucking nerve of her. She knew how much talking about her erotisim career annoyed me and then she gets pissed off at me for expressing that?

What is she supposed to do? Apologize and grovel for your forgiveness any time it comes up?

That's not what I'm... damn it! I just want her to stop mentioning it. For her to understand that despite how much I love her it's a sore subject between us.

So you want her to pretend like an entire portion of her life that enables her to pay for higher education doesn't exist just for your benefit?

It's not just for my benefit. It's for us both.

Just like when she pretends the realities of you being a biotic Marine don't exist?

…. shit. We're both doing it, aren't we?

What a great pair of mature communicators the two of you are.

Leaning my back against a nearby wall I closed my eyes to will away my prideful anger and wounded psyche. I was under the assumption that we we had made a lot of progress in resolving our issues, or at least learning to cope with them for the benefit of our relationship. Now it seems that in spite of our repeated assurances to each other we were both simply holding back on things that bothered or concerned us.

Or maybe you're just winging this and have no idea what you're getting into?

I always thought things with Klara would be so much simpler.

You thought your fantasy of Klara would be simpler.

Yeah. Turns out the real version is even better than I could have imagined, but so much more complicated.

Well at least it was comforting to know that I wasn't alone in being inept and clueless about this whole relationship thing, but one of us needed to take the first step towards reconciliation before things became damaged beyond repair.

"Klara we need to stop before one of us says something that can't be forgiven with a simple apology." Opening my eyes I stared at her holo to convey my earnest and sincere plea.

She hung her head and ran a hand through her black tresses at my words, her expression colored with embarrassment and shame around a wry smile that chewed on her bottom lip. "You're right. I'm so sorry I said that, babe. I know we still have our issues to work out and I shouldn't be taunting you with them. Forgive me?"

Damn her beautiful blue eyes and adorable mannerisms. I just couldn't stay mad at her.

"Already forgiven, hermosa. I'm sorry, too. I let my exhaustion get the better of me and I snapped at you instead of letting it slide." I grinned sheepishly back at her and pushed off the wall to resume my journey back to the barracks. Rubbing the back of my neck and fingering the implant ports there I nervously clarified, "We've got to stop with this. We keep on saying we're going to work on our issues and then they pop back up again like nothing has changed. I don't want to fight about this stuff, Klara."

"I'm more than aware of our dynamic here, Luis. We'll work things out at our own pace just like we do everything else." She sighed and rolled her eyes at the difficulties of our relationship as she directed loose strands of her tresses behind her ears. Veering away from the safe topic of our mutual atonement and good humor she broached a compromise for the subject troubling us, "Let's just agree to avoid pushing each other on this until we can give it the attention it deserves. In the mean time, be sure to give yourself an extra special rub down in the shower since I can't do it myself. Deal?"

In a masterful stroke of redirecting me away from the problematic topic she winked playfully and blew me a kiss, causing me laugh and shake my head at her antics. We might have some issues communicating on trust and feelings but we definitely had zero problems in the sexual chemistry department. "It's a deal. But you need to do the same for me."

"Already planning on it, babe, but it won't be the same without you and your nifty little biotic tricks." She lifted her hand and wiggled her fingers while smiling wickedly and licking her lips, making it very obvious what she intended to do after this vidchat.

I paused mid-step to gape in shock. She had just insisted we avoid these sort of topics but what does she do? Make sexual references to my biotics?

You've reinforced that association in her mind and she knows nothing about your current feelings on the matter.

Fuck. This is going to be more difficult than I thought.

Keeping things to yourself usually is.

"What's wrong, babe? Did I stunlock your brain? Usually that's your job with me."

Recovering from my momentary lapse I coughed conspicuously into a closed fist and made other noncommittal noises regarding her comment. Klara properly read my flustered bewilderment over her salacious banter and stifled giggles around an affectionate smirk to end to our chat, "Please take better care of yourself, babe. I need my boyfriend in working order. Get some rest and we'll talk tomorrow."

Buoyed and at ease with the teasing nature of our caring banter I grinned happily and laughed. Caught up those positive feelings I hoped to give her the same comfort, "I always feel better after talking with you, hermosa. I'll message you when I wake up. Love you, mi amor."

Once more I panicked internally as the words of endearment slipped out of my mouth before I could process what I was doing. We hadn't really made a big deal of saying these sort of things but I always felt nervous when it happened. Like we were both waiting for cringe-worthy reaction to hearing it.

But every time those fears proved unfounded, and tonight was proving to be no exception. Her face brightened immensely as she fondly reciprocated the simple but powerful phrase effortlessly and effusively. "I love you too, szerelmem. Bye."

The vidchat winked out of existence and I was overcome with a sense of relief that I hadn't realized I was in desperate need of. With this new clarity I recalled my Tio Kamal's advice. To savor and cherish the moments with those you love when the galaxy has become gray and cold.

Pretty smart man.

He trusts your aunt to not judge him for his moments of weakness, but to love him. You should let Klara do the same.

My upbeat mood soured a bit. Once more I became agitated as the more observant part of my mind ruined everything.

I was so lost in my musings that it was a surprise to see I had reached my destination. Stepping of the pathway towards the side entrance of our company building I entered the vacuum sealed doors and immediately turned to my right towards the interior staircase. I plodded up the metal staircase to the second floor but no sooner had I exited that I heard a loud collective roar of groans and cheers coming from the company common room.

Frowning to myself I strolled by the fixed observation windows to see what was going on. Nearly half of the unit was present, seated on just about any surface they could find and watching the single massive vid display in various stages of shock and glee.

"Oh come on!"

"How is that not illegal?"

"She almost had it!"

"I hope that krogan chokes on his own vomit after partying tonight."

"And I hope you guys still have the credits you owe me because it is time to pay up!"

"Fuck that fucking bullshit. Armax is fucking rigged."

"Could you possibly say fuck more? I don't think we understand what you're trying to say."

"Sure. Go fuck yourself, Jae-Yong you stupid fucking motherfucking fuck."

Ah. Now this made more sense. Galactic Combat Championship Series presented by Armax Arsenal and live from the Citadel every ten galactic days. From the looks of it team Gul'dan had defeated team Doomhammer. Well, judging by the score, more like obliterated.

One of the highlights of the match played and I winced watching a drell pick up a fallen krogan's battle hammer and connect on the unsuspecting back of a Turian. Yikes. That's going to sting for a couple of days. Suddenly my own back pain didn't seem nearly as bad as I thought.

With the match over the marines began filing out of the room in small groups as I blended in with the herd moving towards the platoon dormitory halls.

Zeke picked me out from the crowd and went into an animated recounting of the match, "Luis! You missed a serious match. Doomhammer had this drell. She was a beast. Held off Gul'dan at the end all by herself for like ten minutes. I made like eighty credits off of her."

Wait. He actually won a bet?

Will wonders never cease?

Well as impressive as that sounded I had my own tale to tell.

Falling in step with him I raised a taunting eyebrow and responded, "That's great. So while you were busy earning the credits you owe me while sitting on your ass watching someone put in work I was busy actually doing it. And your pull up record got the boot out the airlock."

Several of our fellow marines nearby catcalled and jeered Toombs who looked abashed. Collecting himself he looked at me askance and grumbled, "Oh yeah? How many?"

"Seventy-three." Smugly replying I lifted my arms to flex but quickly dropped them.

Fuck that hurts.

Attempting to save face I stood tall again and rolled my shoulders to alleviate the burning sensation but was forced to abort that when I could couldn't even move them without wincing.

Very impressive.

Toombs raised an eyebrow and chuckled at my posturing, no doubt satisfied with the visible pain I was in.

Just ahead of us O'Connell glanced back at me and openly questioned my claim, "Got proof, Luis? Or just talking shit?"

Glaring right back at him I activated my omnitool and shared the equipment logs from the gym. Toombs loaded the vid on his omnitool but quickly caught on that I was trying to keep pace with an gargantuan ODST. Looking back at me gleefully he started chuckling, already knowing how this was going to end.

I rolled my eyes and yawned while sparing another glance at O'Connell. The antagonism between us had cooled after the sucker punch he delivered several months ago on my birthday but as of late he was showing signs of renewed animosity. Best I could figure it was jealousy being driven by my recent promotion and the rumblings that I was up for consideration to attend MVC Bravo Two soon.

Normally I couldn't be bothered with responding to his antics but the way I was feeling right now he was on the path to a broken jaw if he continued to fuck with me.

Stepping into the dormitory that housed our platoon we had to move around a small crowd gathered to watch two privates from second squad – Utley and Opeyemi – who were in the midst of a push-up contest in the middle of the hall. Or so I thought. Their squad leader Staff Sergeant Hatem was standing off to the side with hands on her hips, "And what is it that we do not use our military grade omni-tool fabrication suites for, privates?"

Utley grunted around another repetition, "To create omni-blades and duel, sergeant."

I'm sorry. Say what?

That's...

Creative?

More like insane.

Most of the arriving group lingered around to be spectators but I moved past the crowd towards my room with the singular focus of grabbing my shower gear so I was one step closer to getting some sleep.

So of course Staff Sergeant Adame spotted me and called out from across the hall, "Private Shepard. Just the person I was looking for. Report downstairs to Lieutenant Nesterovic. Mentioned something about the report from the Hawkhurst and your use of biotics catching the attention of folks at battalion."

Wait. What? You've got to be kidding me!

I groaned loudly with balled fists at my luck. Naturally some haptic pusher at battalion had finally reviewed the reports and since they had nothing better to do they didn't mind ordering that follow up actions get done on a Saturday night. Like a petulant child I dragged my heels towards my room while grumbling under my breath.

Examining me and my behavior with a frown she added on, "And clean up a bit first. Just because you privates are slobs doesn't mean you should be inflicting it on the officers."

My temper starting to boil over I growled an inarticulate angry response and swatted at the haptic lock. Stepping into the room I snatched off my gym back and slung it forcefully at my bunk, garnering a glare from El Mofty who was in her usual position of being reclined back in a seat with her feet on the multimedia terminal desk.

"You fucking dumbass, Luis. Did you really think you were going to win?" Suppressing a snarl I glanced over my shoulder to see Toombs followed me into the room. Looking down at his omni-tool I saw myself lying flat on the ground underneath the pull up bar, chest heaving and spent while the ODST chuckled and continued knocking out repetitions.

Leaning back with my head to the heavens I closed my eyes and used my focusing exercises to will away the overpowering urge to punch the next thing that irritated me.

One breath.

Two breaths.

Three breaths.

Significantly calmer I opened my eyes and took in my surroundings.

Zeke had ambled over to his bunk and was still engrossed in his omni-tool.

Asma absently stirred and sipped from a can of pungent soup as she watched some melodramatic soap opera vidstream.

And Nik was stretched out across his bunk with the obvious signs of being immersed in a simulstim.

Oh no. No no no no. Nope. Nope. Not dealing with that tonight.

I recoiled in visceral fear and watched warily that we might be subjected to another one of his obscene displays.

"I already warned him. He swears that he's just using a simulstim of laying out on a beach." El Mofty seemed to read my mind and eyed Suvorov suspiciously, "Although now that I think about it, knowing Nik it's probably a shared simulstim of being on a beach with some topless woman he met online. So odds are he does something weird."

He always does something weird. With a shake of my head I opened my locker to grab a new shirt to replace the currently sweat soaked and rank one I was wearing.

"You're being way too considerate, Asma. Guaranteed that's a private nude beach with another one of those chicks he from that erotisim service he uses." Toombs tilted his head at El Mofty and observed with a leering grin. His smile turned devious as rubbed his hands together and looked between the two of us, "We taking bets on what the name is he calls out?"

Again with the bets. Doesn't he ever learn?

El Mofty grunted and resumed watching her show but remarked nonetheless. "What's the name of the girl he was going on about that week before we left on patrol? Phoebe?"

No. That' wasn't it.

"I thought it was Isabel?" I paused in changing shirts to look at the others for confirmation, but then added with an annoyed frown and shake of my head, "Why do I even know that?"

Because you're scared one day you'll hear Klara's name.

That's not likely. She already said she doesn't take clients from Czarnobog Naval Depot.

But then that introduced a new terrifying thought: does she even use her real name? What name does she use?

Oh hell. What if it's something horribly sleazy sounding like Candy Quasar or Nikki Neutron?

Gazing at the holo of my outer colony angel on the inside of my locker I hung my head and groaned miserably. This was the absolute last thing I wanted to think about right now. I just wanted to get some sleep.

Is that too much to ask for?

Oblivious to my musings El Mofty looked at me queerly and exclaimed, "Wait. You mean to tell me that he has two of them and they're not VIs? They're actually real?"

The almost incomprehensible implications of what she was saying dawned us all with stunning silence.

We all turned to regard the placid and oblivious Suvorov with skeptical and disbelieving frowns but Asma was the one to answer her own question with a disgusted sneer and shake of her head. "Guess some women in the galaxy have no standards."

Toombs frowned and tapped a finger to his lips, deep in thought and shaking his head. "You guys sure? I could have sworn it was just one woman named Phillipa."

You know what? I've dedicated entirely too much time to this discussion.

I finished changing my shirt and closed my locker but just as I was ready to leave Suvorov cleared up the confusion for us. "Mmmmmm... Phillipa."

Really? Really? After everything else that's happened tonight we're going to add that to the mix?

Fuck you, universe.

Toombs shot up from his bunk and hollered in triumph. "I knew it! I should have made you guys bet me!"

I buried my face in my hands and rubbed it furiously, willing away the urge to scream in frustration.

When will this day end?

El Mofty's reaction was to unleash a vicious kick that jostled our teammate violently enough to send him rolling into the wall of his bunk.

Violence. Always an appropriate response that resolves every problem.

"What the fuck!?" A disoriented Suvorov struggled to gain his bearings after being forced to disengage from the simulstim so abruptly. A snarl of dizzy rage upon his face he sat up and blinked away the effects of neural bilocation several times before noticing the rest of us giving him less than pleased looks.

"Seriously? Again Nik?" Toombs folded his arms and shook his head in a mockingly disappointed manner.

Suvorov sighed and rubbed his thigh while glowering darkly, "Well it's not like I can get any privacy around here. You guys are always cock-blocking me."

Yes. Being in the assigned room we shared with him was all some grand plan to ruin his ability to have sex in an erotisim.

El Mofty had gone back to sipping her soup and watching her show but casually remarked with deadpan delivery, "Yet the rest of us manage to find ways to flick one out and not get caught."

Again, I repeat. I've dedicated entirely too much time to this discussion.

She's not wrong. He does lack creativity and shame.

Not wanting to stick around to hear more of the gory details of my teammates' masturbation habits I left and headed back through the dormitory hall. The crowds had thinned out but Sergeant Hatem still had Utley and Opeyemi on the ground, this time repeating a mantra after each push-up.

"Forty, I am not Captain Cosmic."

"Forty-one, I am not Captain Cosmic."

Yeah, I'm not even going to bother asking what the hell this is about.

Exiting the dormitory I queried the platoon VI to track down the Lieutenant. "Alfons, locate Lieutenant Nestervoic."

"Level one personnel tracking initiated, Private First Grade Shepard. One moment. Lieutenant Second Grade Nesterovic is in her quarters."

Taking a deep breath to get moving again I headed for the stairwell and responded, "Alfons, Inform Lieutenant Nesterovic that Private Shepard is reporting in as requested."

"Message relayed, Private First Grade Shepard. One moment. Proceed to Lieutenant Second Grade Nesterovic's office."

Reaching the ground floor I lumbered down the administrative hallway until I reached her doorway and tapped the haptic display, "Private Shepard reporting as requested, ma'am."

"Enter."The display changed to green and the door sensors opened at my presence.

I marched in and stood at attention, noticing Lieutenant Nesterovic was seated at the desk typing away at her terminal and dressed in a standard physical training uniform with her damp hair down about her shoulders.

She glanced up and grinned lightly, waving away my formality. "At ease, Shepard. Almost finished and then we can get this done."

Taking on a more relaxed stance I stood by and waited, the quiet and low lighting of her office lulling me back into a state of drowsiness.

Wouldn't hurt for me to close my eyes for just a moment...

"Alright. Let's get a move on, private."

Wha...? I'm awake!

Startled by the sound of her voice I nearly toppled over, looking around widely while trying to adjust by blurry vision before scrambling to recover into an upright position.

Well that wasn't embarrassing at all.

It could have been much worse. I could have dozed off and face-planted just like I had joked with Klara. Shattered teeth, broken nose, busted lips, and blood everywhere.

Despite the lovely visual you'd be assured plenty of rest. In the Berehynia Infirmary.

You know things are bad when you're contemplating that outcome just for the benefit of getting some sleep.

The Lieutenant watched me with cautious alarm and when she was certain I wasn't going to injure myself she warily asked, "Is everything alright, Shepard?"

I'm sore, tired, hungry, and irritated as fuck. Now you and the mooks at battalion want me to perform biotic tricks at your request. What do you think?

Is that the answer you're going with?

No.

"Yes, ma'am. Just exhausted." I nodded with grim determination, not sure what was expected of me but knowing this had to be done. Better to get it over with as quickly as possible. Although my incessant inquisitiveness got the better of me as I curiously asked, "What is it exactly that I'm being asked to do by battalion, ma'am?"

I could only imagine what sort of infuriatingly stupid things about my biotic performance caught the interest of the bored analysts and strategists at battalion on a Saturday night.

She stood from her desk and pulled a gray fabric hair tie from her wrist to tie back her hair into a short ponytail while still giving me a critical eye, "Actually I was the one who brought this to their attention. After comparing your battle logs to your typical biotic output in training sessions and simulations I noticed an anomaly. You consistently produce dark energy fields in the upper ranges of what an L3 with your biotic profile should be capable of but on the Hawkhurst your single attack spiked well beyond anything you've done before. When I forwarded my findings to the relevant people in battalion they were interested in seeing if this was a fluke or sign of your voluntary training showing progress."

My stomach plummeted somewhere into the swirling bronze clouds of Andarta as my heart began thumping in my chest with an intensity that made me lightheaded. This couldn't be happening.

And yet it is.

Not only did she want me to relive the events of the Hawkhurst in detail, but she wanted me to do so she could test my biotics like I'm some guinea pig? When I was already spent and exhausted?

I closed my eyes to calm my tempest of emotions playing havoc with my pulse and stomach but instead all that did was make it easier to replay the memory of that biotic smuggler's body being yanked off the floor midstride in an indigo and blue field of dark energy.

"Are you sure you're up for this, private?" I was pulled from my musings by the LT again questioning my current state and willingness to go forward.

Was I? Doubtful.

No shame in saying you're not.

It's tempting when I had so many reasons not to.

Sensing I was about to use the opportunity to decline she switched up the discussion with a little enticement as she cycled through files on her datapad, "I know this would go a long way towards improving your chances of getting waivers after we submitted your application to attend Bravo Two."

So it's going to be like that, huh?

Cajoling with a little flattery and bribery.

Guess the LT was willing to pull out the big guns when it came to her fascination with my biotics.

Still I had to admit that I was invigorated and intrigued as trepidation and excitement battled for dominance in my weary mind. Nothing like the pressure of knowing my future career opportunities are depending upon my ability to face my demons and ace an impromptu exam when I'm struggling to stay on my feet.

Although it would feel rather good to cap this night off with something positive.

Or your current trend could continue and you fail miserably.

What was it Lieutenant Commander Ranganathan had said? Something about getting my head right when it came to using my biotics effectively no matter what I was faced with? Well no time like the present but with all due respect to the Lieutenant Commander I took a page from Matron Malegos and her 'preposterous philosophical nonsense'.

'Do not envision failure. Envision success.'

Making an effort to not be daunted by circumstances and obstacles beyond my control I breathed deeply and gave the Lieutenant a jerky nod, "I'll make it happen, ma'am."

She smiled and nodded at my attitude while grabbing an inactive drone from a case on the shelf behind her. Motioning to the door we stepped out into the hallway and she inclined her head towards the internal staircase, "We'll be doing this downstairs. Plenty of open space and room to operate."

Right because that's not ominous.

Nodding absently I fell in step with her as she brought up the diagnostic program on her datapad and began conversationally disclosing the reasons for the spontaneous nature of battalion's request, "Apologies beforehand for the rush. We could have gotten this done during the week but battalion is breathing down our neck. We just got picked up as replacements for a rotation."

Wait, what? We were headed out soon? Where?

Seeing my interest she continued to prepare the diagnostic and filled me in. "The hundred and seventy-fifth was supposed to be headed out on an eight month rotation with the Arcturus Fourth Patrol Group. Two month Horse Head patrol, six months CDEM in Dranosh Rest. But their unit was withdrawn at the last minute so that nixes them heading out."

CDEM in Dranosh Rest? The Krogan DMZ? Eight months?

What. The. Hell?

Letting my head loll back I stared at the heavens and silently bemoaned my luck. This could not be happening.

"This has blindsided everyone and battalion is scrambling to get everything prepped because the order came down this afternoon. We ship out in three weeks." Stepping into the stairwell she continued with an exasperated sigh and shake of her head, "Official word is that it's related to the big MI Squared bust of a major smuggling operation on Sirona."

Uh, what? When did this happen?

That couldn't be related to what Klara and I saw, right?

You think she's talking about another group of smugglers on Sirona?

But what are the chances that we had an impact on this?

Looks like the you and your girlfriend stumbled into something bigger than you thought.

Wincing in the darkened hallways I kept my eyes focused on the blue glow of the Lieutenant's datapad and did my best to sound casual in asking, "I hadn't heard about that. What does that have to do with us being selected for deployment, ma'am?"

She glanced up from her datapad to shrug, "All I know is that ONI has stepped in because the MI Squared investigation implicated the Tiburon Rojo mercs of working with an arms trafficking ring based out Czarnobog. Supposedly a handful of individuals in the hundred and seventy-fifth were detained."

Scratch that. Looks like you and your girlfriend stumbled into something far bigger than you thought.

Holy fuck. Shady smugglers, crooked mercs, and corrupt UNSC personnel? I nearly stumbled stepping onto a landing in the stairwell as the terrifying reality of how oblivious I was to threats surrounding me sank in. Did this crew of military merchants of death know about Klara and myself?

Czarnobog wasn't nearly the safe haven from retribution I had anticipated.

Yet your actions might have brought down an entire criminal enterprise.

Talk about an unexpected and confounding turn of events.

Not bad for a pair of trespassing horny teenagers.

And the universe rewards me with a separation from Klara for an eight month CDEM deployment?

Would you rather have acclaim and attention for your actions?

No. Hell no.

We exited the stairwell into the lower sub level where we kept the armory, motor pool, and quartermaster storage. The LT spared a glance and observed my distressed expression, drawing the wrong conclusion as to what was behind my dread. "Don't sweat it, private. It's going to be a hectic workload but we'll have the prep and checks done in less than two weeks. After that Arcturus CENTCOM are promising us at least five days of bonus leave before we ship out to make up for the short notice."

And there's your eezo lining.

My heart soared hearing that. So I would be able to see Klara after all. And possibly for a week! Granted it didn't even come close to making up for the fact I wouldn't see her for the next eight months but it was better than nothing. Now I could only wonder how she would react to the news.

The safe bet is poorly.

I am so not looking forward to that conversation.

"Already know where you're headed, private?" I guess the drastic change in my emotions must have been readily apparent because the LT began chuckling at my glossed over smile. At my enthusiastic nod she grinned genially, "Still seeing that girl on Benning?"

My expression soured as I realized she approved the leave and pass requests I made, and knew why I requested them. To be discussing anything even remotely pertaining to my relationship with Klara with my platoon leader was not how I envisioned this night going.

Yet another surreal event in this bizarre and miserable chain of events this evening.

Thankfully I was saved from answering by our entering the open company gathering area in the dimly lit motor pool area of the sub level where we typically conducted formations and physical training. While the LT set up the drone I did my best to loosen up by walking a short lap around the motor pool, swinging my arms to loosen them as I gazed at the unit's collection of vehicles: a dozen Warthogs and four Makos parked in rows; flanking them were six exoskeletons, four Mantises and two Cyclopes; and along the back were the dozen Mongoose ATVs.

It wasn't much or all that impressive, but we were light infantry rapid mobility and patrol unit. Not some heavy hitters attached to a mech or armor unit. We were expected us to mostly board ships and stations or storm planetside facilities. Although none of that meant I was looking forward to having to service and inventory these vehicles in the span of two weeks. On top of all my other gear and weapons.

I doubt I'd be seeing any time off between now and my trip to Benning.

As I neared the end of the motor pool my eyes wandered over to the armory and quartermaster's storage area where Master Sergeant Cermak and the XO were presiding over the unit's combat engineers, mechanized marines, and medics. Which made sense now that I knew what was coming up. They had more equipment assigned to them than any of the rest of us that needed to be inventoried so they were probably getting a head start.

And by head start I meant standing around and killing time by shooting hoops with the basketball rim the quartermaster had near his office.

Several of them noticed my presence and waved, which I returned half-heartedly as the thought of having an audience for this biotic exam raised the tension I was feeling.

They're just like any other distraction you've trained to ignore in combat.

Right. Deep breaths. Focus on my goal but be aware of my surroundings.

My lingering caught the attention of Lieutenant Hattori who acknowledged me with a stiff nod of his head and narrowed gaze at Lieutenant Nesterovic before he proceeded to excuse himself from the discussion he was having with the quartermaster. The XO quickly made his way over and gestured that I follow him back towards my platoon leader in his professionally studious and silent manner of doing things.

Great. Fan-fucking-tastic.

Lieutenant Nesterovic watched our approach with a barely restrained grimace of frustration and handed over her datapad to his expectantly outstretched had the moment he was within range, which he perused with a critical eye to verify it had sync with my medical implants, bio-amp, and the drone before giving his silent approval of her prep work. "Excellent work, Lieutenant. This is one more thing off our plate."

Finally tearing his gaze away from the datapad Lieutenant Hattori glanced my way with his serious expression was critical of my appearance as he inquired, "I trust Lieutenant Nesterovic has impressed upon you the reasons for this evaluation?"

Blowing out a deep breath I nodded and took a step back, bouncing slightly from foot to foot as I began preparing myself.

The XO silently regarded me with his impassive gaze before he launched into the official preamble, " Private Shepard this is a level one biotic qualification examination. This evaluation will consist of three objectives covering the basic biotic talents a biotic qualified marine is expected to posses for level one certification. You will complete the stated objectives a minimum of five times in the time allotted of two Terran minutes with high levels of efficiency. Failure to complete any portion of the evaluation within the stated parameters will result in a failure of the certification."

Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah.

Very mature.

I only barely resisted the urge to groan or roll my eyes. This had to be at least my tenth time performing this eval but leave it to the humorless stickler to insist on every formal detail.

Lieutenant Nesterovic – who had the luxury of not being in his eyesight – shared my annoyance and looked skywards with a long suffering expression. When he ended his recital she seized her opportunity to push this along and spoke up with forced brightness, "Okay. Now that is out of the way I don't know about you two, but I'd like to get to sleep at a decent time tonight. Anytime you're ready, Shepard. Let's see some basic mass lowering fields. Five times."

With that she activated the drone and tossed it into the air where it hovered at head height approximately five meters away.

I calmed myself and blocked out the noise in the motor pool. People talking, the bouncing basketball, and equipment being moved around. I honed in on the now moving drone and breathed deeply. Bring on my focus I flared my biotic aura and performed the well practiced motion of targeting the drone in a lowered mass effect field, hitting the drone right on target. It bobbed up erratically as it tried to adjust to it's lightened mass.

Buoyed by my success I kept that focus and drilled the drone four consecutive times but then doubled over as my head spun from performing the biotic effects so rapidly in succession.

That was brilliant. Want to try pacing yourself and do this right instead of showing off?

Noticing my squeezed shut eyes and grimace Lieutenant Nesterovic cautiously asked, "You alright there, private? Your vitals spiked a bit."

Taking a deep breath I nodded, feeling a surge of angry defiance coursing through my veins.

C'mon, Luis. Get a grip. This is easy mode stuff.

Regaining control I noticed the motor pool had gone deathly quiet, meaning everyone had probably stopped to watch me.

I was not going to screw this up and embarrass myself.

Standing tall I stared at the drone with singular focus and loathing. "I'm good, ma'am."

The two lieutenants were quiet, probably debating on whether or not to redo this in the morning but something about my determination must have convinced them. Lieutenant Hattori cleared his throat and spoke, "Second objective. Mass raising field. Begin."

Quickly adopting a posture Lieutenant Commander Ranganathan had drilled into my head through brutal repetition I kept my eyes glued to the movements of the drone. Again, the practice motion was done with barely a thought as my left hand flicked downward at that wrist and then squeezed into a fist.

My aura flared and again the drone was hit perfectly, dropping like a stone inside the dark energy field and bouncing off the metal plates of the floor before it corrected itself to resume hovering.

This time I paced myself, taking a moment to breathe and refocus between each attempt. I was rewarded with another five for five performance with hardly any head rush or nausea. Although I was starting to sweat and feel uncomfortably warm, and my arms and legs were feeling shaky.

"Good job, Shepard. Third objective. Same drill. Warp fields."

I nodded at my platoon leader's commands, taking in deeper breaths as my lungs felt strained and labored.

Focusing on the drone I was reminded of the taunting way drones had eluded me earlier tonight. A feral grin spread across my face as the thought of retribution soothed my stress and exertion. Not this time.

Another flare of my biotic aura and twisting motion with my close left fist created a lowered field that then rapidly shifted it to a raised one. The effect happened so rapidly there was a telltale crack as the air around it warped and the drone was slung back and sideways several meters, spinning in place until it recovered.

My heartbeat thrummed in my ears with the sound of rushing blood but I still heard the murmurs of the onlookers, prompting me to stand tall and proudly. Feeling even more sure of myself despite my rapidly weakening state I cranked out four more, still applying the breathing and focus between attempts. Another flawless drill.

Glancing over at my examiners I saw whatever readings Lieutenant Hattori saw on the datapad left him impressed with eyebrows raised. Lieutenant Nesterovic glanced at her omni-tool and grinned, nodding her approval, "Test complete. We got the readings we needed."

Looking back at the drone I let my own bolstered confidence mix with the delirious head rush and defiant streak running through me. "Can I take a crack at the level two, ma'am?"

Are you crazy?

No, just feeling good about my chances this time. I'm not backing down.

Lieutenant Nesterovic tilted her head at me with a nonplussed look on her face. Regaining her wits she put her hands on her hips and returned the question to me, "Do you really think you can handle the level two exam right now, private?"

Yeah, do you? You don't have to prove anything.

Chest heaving and wiping a trickle of sweat from my brow I looked back at the drone and debated the question internally. Each time the drone dipped and jerked in different directions my determination grew into a fixation. If I was going to be nominated for Bravo Two then I needed to prove to my command, my instructors, and myself that I could push myself. That I could push past whatever mental blocks and hangups I had developed since the Hawkhurst.

So you think it's that simple?

Of course not, but just because I still had things to work out didn't mean I could shirk my duties. The next group of hostiles during a mission wasn't going to wait for me to get my shit together.

Besides, the fact that I had developed a finely tuned impulse to break these drones during biotic evals only helped.

"I can do it, ma'am."

The officers hesitated a moment, conferring with each other silently with a dubious gaze. Lieutenant Hattori glanced down at the datapad and tapped his chin, no doubt reading my current vitals. Lieutenant Nesterovic folded her arms and visually evaluated me with a critical eye and frown before sighing and shaking her head.

I took the moment to see that while the quartermaster was still going over inventory the others were deeply engrossed in watching me. I turned my head to look away from the live audience as my confidence slipped a notch realizing I might have bit off more than I could chew and when I failed it was going to be witnessed by more than the these officers.

Well don't fail then?

My fists squeezed and I glared at the drone, directing my entire focus and ire at it.

"I think we can skip the formal introduction." I turned my head to look at Lieutenant Nesterovic who was consulting her omni-tool. The orange glow cast an eerie effect on her brown eyes as she gestured to the drone. "Biotic level two certification. Pulling effect. Five times, just like the other exam."

Her remarks registered in my mind and I quickly resumed my focus and breathing drills.

You know how to do this. Just like you practiced.

Making an effort to clear my mind I targeted the drone and hit it dead on. Okay, that's the easy part. My body strained as I held the field and forcefully jerked the drone in my direction.

When it neared within a meter I let the field go and leaned forward with my hands on my knees, feeling extremely exhausted and seriously debating my sanity in trying to attempt this. That was only the first go and I felt fried.

You can always quit.

With the amount of sweat dripping off my chin I seriously considered it and glanced at both lieutenants who stared back at me coolly, not at all believing my bravado and bullshit anymore. Glancing back at the drone I let my anger and frustration take over.

I will not fail. Not again.

Once that focus was locked in I stood up straight and repeated the effort to yank the drone about like I had been doing it all my life. And then I caught my breath, shook it off and did it again. And again. And again.

The end result was being drenched in sweat, practically radiating heat, gasping for breath, and feeling a little woozy, but I had aced this part of the exam as well. Five for five.

"Throwing effect grading on force. Five times."

Shit.

You knew this was coming. It was in the test you tried earlier today.

I closed my eyes and saw the events on the Hawkhurst replay over again. My hands began shaking uncontrollably as I struggled to gain control over my emotions.

You can do this.

That's what I'm afraid of.

Think of this as an actual combat scenario. Your hesitation puts others at risk.

That did it. I will not fail. Not again.

Steeling myself with that newfound clarity I opened my eyes and focused on the drone with a steely gaze, replacing it with the image of that biotic female charging down Sergeant Svensson. With a yell of primal rage I surrounded myself in a corona of dark energy and hurled a field that nailed the drone, sending it careening into a Mako where it bounced off with a solid thunk.

Once again the motor pool was abnormally silent as my onlookers gawked and gaped at my display. My body was debilitated and my limbs felt like they were made out of the same stuff as hanar tentacles but I absolutely relished the feel of seeing that fucking drone bounce off the Mako.

Careful. Sounds like you're enjoying the feel of biotic violence.

It's kinda therapeutic.

It's certainly a statement.

As the drone proceeded back to it's starting point I glared at it with more contempt and fury than my weakened state should have been capable of mustering.

Let's dance again, you little fucking shit.

In a purging maelstrom of dark energy and primal rage I launched four more throwing attacks at the drone with unerring efficiency that earned me a perfect score. I paid dearly for it in barely being able to remain standing and panting to the point of hyperventilation, but I got it done. Two down, one to go.

Just as I prepared myself to test the final ability I felt a blinding twinge of pain at my temples followed by a rush of dizziness that left me woozy and collapsing to my hands and knees with a lurch of nausea roiling in my stomach.

You've pushed yourself too far.

No! I can do this. I have to do this. I can't be weak.

As I focused on my breathing to settle my stomach and dull the ache in my head I saw Lieutenant Nesterovic approach and kneel beside me. Raising her omni-tool she scanned me and I groaned, knowing this was only a formality before she prevented me from completing the exam.

More like prevented you from hurting yourself.

I'm fine. I can do this.

When diagnostic was complete she sighed and regarded me with a stern frown, "I appreciate the dedication, Private Shepard, but I don't need you putting yourself into the infirmary. You've done more than enough to prove that the spike in your biotic output was not a fluke."

See? You can stop now.

No. I want that second level biotic warfare badge.

And you can still get it. Just not right now.

I need to get it. I need to know that...

That what?

That I have control over my biotics. That I'm worthy of the Bravo Two application. That I know I'm not going to be a liability to my squad. That I'm not going to be a threat to the people I love. That I'm not just some unstable mutant freak.

Swallowing back on the bile bubbling up my esophagus I leaned back on to my haunches and stared back at the LT. I knew I looked like hammered varren shit but I didn't care, and when I didn't back down she sighed and slowly nodded before backing away.

You're committed now. Better make this count.

It was a bit of a struggle but eventually I got to my feet. In my nearly delirious state I glanced at Lieutenant Hattori and almost toppled over in laughter, having never seen the man gobsmacked before. Noticing my amusement he quickly reasserted his stoic expression and cleared his throat. "Your final task is biotic strikes. Five times. You're allowed to approach the drone and the program will accept any punch or kick that connects with an unstable mass effect field. You will not be graded on form in your strikes. You will be graded on control over successful strikes and force applied. The two minutes begins when you're ready."

Right. Just one more dance with the little annoying ball of circuits. Taking a moment to gather myself I watched the drone hover at about chest height and wondered if after my grueling training today if I had enough left to finish the job.

A little to late for that, isn't it?

Yeah, but I do my best work when I'm up against pressure.

That's because you're a procrastinator and pessimist of epic proportions.

Not even going to bother denying that.

Breathing heavily I marched forward and assumed the fighting stance Staff Petty Officer Filipovic had drilled into my mind while encasing myself in the tingling field of my biotic aura. My arms and legs felt like phantom limbs that barely responded to my commands but I managed to summon an unstable field around my left fist and threw a jab that connected solidly on the drone, detonating pathetically. A little sloppy and weak, but I think I could be forgiven considering the circumstances.

Four more to go.

Glancing at Lieutenant Nesterovic she nodded, signaling the eval had registered my attack. This time I summoned the dark energy and threw a right cross, twisting and getting my body into it as I was trained.

Not a great idea. I nearly stumbled to the left as my legs buckled under me and I completely whiffed at hitting the drone.

Damn it!

Relax.

My head was spinning from the wobbling swing but I regained my balance and bit back a snarl as I heard the stifled giggles and laughs coming from the unwanted audience.

Don't get distracted. Keep your focus.

Redirecting that bubbling frustration and anger into my target I fueled an unexpected switch kick, moving faster than my drained body normally would permit. The unstable field enveloped my left foot and lower shin as it swung up to about chest height to connect with a deafening crack and flash of indigo that sent the drone rocketing to the right over the nearest row of parked vehicles.

Much better.

That'll teach that drone to piss me off.

Using the time that it took the drone to recover and return I wisely released my aura and concentrated on regaining control over my respiration and willing away the feelings of faintness and nausea.

Throwing up would be ill-advised.

As the drone approached I blocked out distraction again and let my aura flare, this time opting to throw another safe jab with my left, summoning the dark energy at the last moment. It was weak as expected but it counted, knocking the drone back a few meters. As my fist recoiled from the punch my vision spun and stomach lurched but I remained focused on my target and biotic aura. This time bounded forward to let loose another right cross, careful to control my body's motion as the unstable dark energy surrounded my fist.

I was rewarded with a resounding boom as the drone was knocked across the floor to the left and skidded into both Lieutenants, who had to jump out of the way at the last second to avoid being hit.

At their stunned and cross stares I sheepishly grinned and backed away to my starting point. Guess I kind of got out of control there and lost track of my positioning.

You think? Don't lose focus of your surroundings.

Right. Okay. I can do this.

Just one more.

I'm going to do this. I will not fail.

The drone returned for our final waltz and I stared it down, coming to terms with my journey over today.

And since the Hawkhurst.

Yeah. I wasn't even close to untangling the issues that plagued me but at least now I was confident in my ability to overcome those issues to do my job. And speaking of which...

Knowing this was the final attack left for the eval I blocked out all noise, pain, and distress. Just breathing and focus on my target. In a fluid motion my aura was flared one last time as I lifted my right knee and chambered a round kick, letting it fly forward as the dark energy surrounded the limb in an unstable field.

At last yielding to my assault the drone was hit with a thunderous crack that echoed in the closed motor pool as it was rocketed into a Warthog where it smashed to pieces.

I would have celebrated my accomplishment except the moment my foot was back on the ground I released my biotic aura and let my delirious weariness win, dropping to my knees and panting heavily as a heavy wave of nausea hit me.

Please don't throw up. Please don't throw up.

Leaning forward I placed my head and hands to the cool metal plates of the floor and groaned pitifully around my ragged breaths, feeling my stomach churn into a frothing mess that threatened to erupt at any second as the static electric charge bled out of me in a sparking flash. A few steadying breaths and I was back in control. I would probably be sleeping here in this exact position tonight, but I was in control.

That's a fairly loose interpretation of being in control.

Holding back the urge to vomit is a victory I will take right now.

In the silence that followed Lieutenant Nesterovic stood over me and toed my body with her trainers. "You going to live, private?"

When I pitifully hummed the affirmative she chuckled loudly and then sighed, "Well aside from the destruction of that drone you'll be pleased to learn that you're going to be awarded a level two once battalion and your instructor review the data and vid. You passed."

With my face still buried in the floor I was feeling ridiculously elated yet unable to do much except snort weakly.

And drool. You are definitely drooling on the floor right now.

Don't care.

I'd kicked my own ass tonight and probably lost half my body weight in sweat but I'd proven that I could overcome obstacles with hard work and effort.

The rest is a work in progress.

Yeah but what else is new?

Lieutenant Hattori finalized the report and glanced down curiously, "You're still taking those higher education courses, private?"

What an absolutely odd thing to ask a person face down and drooling on the floor.

Well you're certainly in no position to carry on a conversation.

Heh. Unless I was talking out of my ass.

You seriously need some sleep.

Don't I know it.

Feeling deliriously relaxed and recovered I sat up on my haunches to answer the XO. "University of Illyria. Mechanical and electrical engineering, sir."

He regarded me with a disgusted frown that left me puzzled. What's he giving me that look for?

The drool?

Whoops. My bad.

I snorted and feebly wiped it away with the back of my right hand as a genuine smile reached his lips, "Excellent. Keep up on that. You show as much dedication with that as you do with your duties and training and you're going places."

Huh. Would you look at that. Validation.

And all you had to do was damn near kill yourself with biotic overexertion.

He handed the datapad over to Lieutenant Nesterovic and returned to the inventory with the quartermaster, his glare at the onlookers causing them to disperse.

Lieutenant Nesterovic placed her hand to her forehead and sagged in relief at his retreating back, looking to the heavens and mumbling something under her breath. With a long suffering sigh she offered her hand to help me up and I accepted, grunting at the trembling weakness and dizziness I felt as I got to my feet.

Oh this is going to be fun going back up the stairs.

Her smile turned into a frown as she dryly commented, "Well that's one thing off my back. If only the rest of the platoon was on the ball as you are. I'm pretty sure we're going to have to make sure Suvorov doesn't have access to simulstims while on deployment."

Good luck with that, lady.

I stifled a weak chuckle at the thought but she speared me with withering glance, "He's doing it again, isn't he?"

Uh, shit.

Too tired to think of a lie or feign ignorance I froze, not wanting to get Nik in trouble but unable to keep the answer from being plainly written on my face.

You are the worst at keeping a secret.

Hey! The fact he's an unrepentant perv and weirdo isn't exactly a secret.

The Lieutenant placed her face in her palm and bemoaned her fate, "That private is going to get us all an ethics violation or misconduct charge. I know it."

Somehow I got the impression she was more concerned with what that would mean for her future promotions and assignments, but whatever. I nodded anyway, not really agreeing but wanting to get away from here and into a shower. And then my bunk. And dream about being cuddled up against Klara.

Lieutenant Nesterovic assumed as much and tilted her head towards the stairwell, taking pity on me "Well done, Private Shepard. Feel free to sleep in but I want you to report in to the Berehynia Medical Center first thing tomorrow for a checkup. Alfons, can you arrange that?"

"Yes, Lieutenant Second Grade Nesterovic. Private First Grade Shepard has an appointment for biotic neurological assessment at fourteen hundred hours."

Works for me.

Giving her the best salute I could muster, I turned and moved away as quickly as I could, which wasn't quick at all given how wobbly and gingerly I was walking.

Feeling unbearably hot and sweaty I pulled off my physical training shirt and used the soaked fabric to wick away moisture from my brow and jaw.

As I passed the inventory group they catcalled my bare upper torso, to which I weakly sneered and flipped them off. They promptly jeered in return. Corporal Terreros called out to my retreating back, "Think fast, Shepard!"

Fuck you, Irma.

Having been so dialed into responding using biotics my mind went into complete VI auto control. I thrust my left arm out and hit the incoming basketball with a lowered mass field, trapping it in midair. Feeling the strain again I glared at the assembled group as a particularly devious thought overtook my fatigued mind.

This will not end well.

Ignoring the warning and all common sense, I quickly used my throwing ability to toss the ball at the backboard. The basketball slammed into the plastic glass surface with enough power to crack it and created a thundering echo throughout the sub level before it ricocheted wildly off every surface it came into contact with. Everyone in the motor pool ducked for cover, including myself.

Oh fuck.

You idiot.

As the ball finally lost momentum it bounced pathetically in the direction of Lieutenant Hattori who put his foot on top of it. He stared dumbly at the basketball, and then glared at me in fury.

I glanced in the direction of Lieutenant Nesterovic but she was busy squeezing her eyes shut and pulling at her hair with frustrated bewilderment. My shoulders sagged as I began berating myself internally. I was so close to just getting out of here, taking a shower and sleeping in past noon.

Now I just wanted to crawl into a dark corner and hide for the next few days.

---

Codex Entry: KF12 Locust Compact Personal Defense Weapon System

The KF12 Locust Compact Personal Defense Weapon System [CPDWS] is a discontinued mass accelerator created by niche defense contractor Kassa Fabrications. In recent decades the small human-owned organization based out of Eden Prime has come to the forefront of cutting edge personal armor defense systems [PADS], modular tactical enhancements, and mass accelerators for the galactic private market. Their unique approach of using only the highest quality materials and innovative technologies allows them to produce an exclusive catalog of remarkable products that caters to defense enthusiasts, weapons collectors, and mercenaries with extensive budgets. And this reputation is best exemplified in all manners by the KF12 Locust.

Originally touted as a potential replacement to the Misriah Armory M7 Hurricane Tactical Personal Defense Weapon System [TPDWS] in [Terran Translation: 2539 CE, Terran Calendar] the KF12 Locust was met with initial approval and given authorization for field testing by United Nations Space Command [UNSC] Special Warfare [SpecWar] troops [Terran Translation: 2540 CE, Terran Calendar]. Feedback for the weapon system was largely positive but the projected deal would falter in [Terran Translation: 2542 CE, Terran Calendar] when Misriah Armory introduced their Block IV upgrade to the M7 Hurricane series. The UNSC would cite logistical, financial, and security reasons for their decision to decline offering Kassa Fabrications a contract and instead renew their licensing with Misriah Armory to purchase M7 Hurricane upgrade kits.

In response Kassa Fabrication began immediately marketing the KF12 to private security and personal defense in order to recoup their sizable investments into the project. Despite a high-end price listing the weapon sold remarkably well, but a brewing disaster was in the making as the Locust was found with increasing frequency in the possession of human insurrectionist forces, Terminus pirates, and organized crime across the galaxy. Kassa Fabrication halted all production and licensing was halted but the weapon system had been successfully reverse engineered and disseminated across the galaxy. The use of the weapon in a high-profile assassination of [2] human leaders [Terran Translation: 2549 CE, Terran Calendar] would finally prompt Charter Race governments to ban the KF12. Confiscation programs of legally obtained Locusts were moderately successful with an estimated [68%] seized and destroyed.

The original production line the KF12 Locust was intended to be an extremely accurate automatic sidearm with superior penetration value against kinetic barriers and the composite armor of PADS. This was achieved via an innovative floating rail system utilizing expensive materials and technology to fire a larger than average slug size with minimal recoil. The Locust has comparable penetration and stopping power to larger assault rifles and carbines at the expense of poor heat management and a slow rate of fire. A proprietary auto-targeting assist VI created by in-house intelligence programmers took advantage of the weapon's stability to give it accuracy and target acquisition at ranges unparalleled in it's class. The final component was a sleek designer construction made of aerospace-rated ceramics and plastics that give it an incredibly lightweight yet durable frame with insulated polymer grips.

Black market fabrication and smuggling has created an extensive array of illegal iterations which have capitalized and expanded upon the original KF12 Locust design. The most common variant is the Skerys Special lacks many of the advanced systems and uses far inferior materials to produce a cheap but effective compact weapon favored by pirates and common criminals. The Lacusta version was developed by United Rebel Front [URF] insurrectionists on the human colony world of Cascade and is now favored by assassins and terrorists across the galaxy for it's heavily overhauled design with sensory passive materials and home-brew electronic warfare VI packages capable of bypassing security systems. Criminal organizations on Reach are responsible for the Cekirge variant which has recalibrated internal components and targeting systems to produce variable rates of fire in a single burst to defeat kinetic barriers at different ranges, and has introduced internal support for firing exotic munitions that can overcome robust composite armor systems in [Terran] seconds.

The once promising weapon system has become a legacy of carnage and bloodshed which has tarnished the exceptional name of Kassa Fabrications. Law enforcement agencies and military forces across the galaxy make it a priority to curb arms dealing and smuggling, and the KF12 Locust is of particular concern when encountered in large quantities given the weapon's reputation for use in major crimes and threats to defense. This perception runs counter to the opinion among galactic security experts in Charter Space who feel the threat presented by the KF12 Locust is overstated symptom of the far greater and more complex danger of batarian backed arms dealers in the Terminus which thrive upon reverse engineering and mass producing bastardized versions of legitimate weapon systems as a method of asymmetrical warfare.