Only the Faithful

by Tilthanial

They held the line when the hordes came. They held the line when the gods came. They held the line when the Worldbreaker came. Now they hold the line against a threat they have never imagined. And they will hold the line. For they are Cadians, and they are faithful.

2. Strangers In Paradise

A/N: And the crossover begins.

Reviews:
Unaies98- Yup, Cadians don't get enough love. Especially since SOMEONE decided to blow up their planet.
Redentor- Not related to the vampire humper. Not even sure which vampire humper you are referring to, but can definitely say she has no relations
Guest- Every scifi setting has different laser phsyics. And in the make-believe world of fiction, it's entirely plausible that a man might track the barrel's trajectory and preempt the shot.
Guest 2- I literally have no idea what that was
Mr Exterminatus- This is the same Kane, but before all the Inquisition stuff went down and he went from stone-cold Kasrkin to a bit of an emotional sap (not going to lie, really regret how I wrote Kane. Good character, maybe, but terrible Kasrkin)
boothnat- Well, we're only in the first chapter. Let's hope it stays as good
Jouaint- Will do!
vindicare241- I try. This story is going to be a pretty gritty ME setting
Emberframe- lol. What's not to love about Cadians fighting against World Eaters? Tale as old as time.
Blinded in a bolthole- Female commissars are pretty rare for that exact reason. Glad you liked it. Spent way too much time rewriting it over and over and expanding it.
dekuton- Hopefully I will satisfy
kukuhimanpr- Murderhobos will reign supreme!
Guest 3- It's hard to find any good crossovers, usually. Glad you like this one so far.
el mano- Nothing is more beautiful than blood in the trenches
ksgrip- I'm honestly not certain who the romance will be in this one. ME1 choice was Ashley, for reasons, but not quite set on the Tali thing. Liara is old news, so to speak. That was the big early fad. And Tali has picked up quite a huge fanbase so it is already sort of established. Leaning towards Tali, but I am still figuring it out.
Chris c2po-My hope is that it will continue as a prosperous and grimlight story
Plaguebearer Palugea- Then I will try to make you wait as little as possible
edboy4926- It should prove quite entertaining
Disciple of Ember- I felt the same way when I realized you had a huge story of your own I had never noticed. Started reading it, slowly, keep it up on my phone so I can pick away at it because I tend to be a slow reader these days. Need to find and watch the anime so I know who the characters are, though so far you have done a fantastic job making them understandable. Reading the Shanxi fanfic (which is goddamn heavenly as far as storytelling goes. Absolutely fantastic), helped solidify how I wanted Shepard to be as a person. He was already a bit that way, more of a somber Shepard.
MrMyself- Ask and you shall receive, eventually
spasticpandakid- ?
kyro2009- Thank you, I tried to make it pretty for y'all
Guest 4- Well, he doesn't know what happened, so in all fairness he could totally claimed he stared it down and the whole thing went Skaven
dghornick- Yup, nothing can go wrong with a commissar interacting with asaria. Heheheehe
Commissar Critical- Glad you loved the battle scene.
Reclusiarch Grimaldus- I tried hard to make a good first impression. Got to get y'all hooked early
Meatzman2- yup. Warhammer into Mass Effect.
HTM- I tend to not like crossovers that shoot straight into the crossover without giving a starting spring. Shepard's personality in this one is meant to be more realistic than the "I was dead for 2 years and half an hour later I'm fine as rain" Shepard. Trying to bring in the touch of grimdark without spilling full Warhammer.

---

Alchera, Amada System

2185

"Wow." Jacob stepped into the gaping hole that led to the pilot's cabin. He ducked under some hanging wires and shined the pistol lamp down the length of the corridor. "So this is the old SR-1. I see the resemblance."

Shepard said nothing. He began making his way down, stepping over loose debris. So many memories lingered in the air. He took a deep breath before stepping past the broken emergency bulkhead. Joker had sat there. That was where he found out his pilot was one of the most determined and skilled men he had ever met. Even Vrolik syndrome couldn't keep him from his dream. Shepard felt a slight tightness in his chest as he thought about the man, now sitting in the pilot seat of the SR-2. If he had to make the choice again, whether to save Joker's life or not, it would always be the same. Joker's life had been worth dying for. Every soul on the SR-1 had been worth dying for.

"I can't believe Joker used to sit in this piece of junk" Jacob said, examining the chair. There was a strained laugh and Shepard knew that, once again, the Cerberus agents were trying alleviate what they thought was a devastating moment for him. It was, but he was okay. The memories swirled in his mind, so many good times that were lost in the past. So many friends he would never see again. But that was life, and he had to move on. Hold onto the good memories, let go the old ones. If Shepard had been a man to hold onto bad memories, he never would have survived N7 training.

What really hit him hard were the dog tags he had stuffed in a belt pouch. Twenty of his crew had been lost when the ship went down. That was only the ones they did not have accounted for at the time. He had read the report many times over, before and after his death. Twenty missing, thirteen confirmed dead, seven critically wounded. It was a slight casualty report for having the ship go down in a surprise attack, but it was forty too many for Shepard's liking. He spent a moment staring at the chair.

He thought through the dead and realized he could not remember all of their faces. Perhaps it was better that way. There were too many faces. At some point he had to stop dwelling on the lost. Every loss a tragedy, but not every tragedy a crutch. That was part of the reason he had chosen to come down and see the crash site in person. It wasn't so he could get lost in the wreckage and have some universe-changing epiphany. It was because he wanted to honor the dead and remind himself why he was fighting. They had paid the same sacrifice as his father, as he had. Only, Shepard had been the lucky one that came back.

"Shepard?"

Miranda stood at the top of the corridor. Her eyes were glued to her omnitool. Shepard tore his gaze from the chair and motioned for Jacob to follow him up.

"What is it, Miranda?"

"I… don't… know." She gave him a blank stare and showed the readings. The first thing Shepard noticed was that every energy-type on the spectrum was spiraling off the charts. Gamma, x-ray, heat, dark energy, gravity, everything. He checked his wrist counter. Same thing. Something was either affecting their tech or going crazy outside.

"Joker! Joker, this is shore party. Come in."

No response. Shepard swore and double-checked his omnitool. The energy was spiralling out of control, reaching critical levels that did not exist outside of nuclear reactions. It was coming from their west. Drawing his Carnifex, he moved to the edge of the wreckage and looked outside. Inside the wreckage, there was little to no wind. But just a hand's reach out, the current howled and shrieked like banshee wails. Small chips of rock hurtled through the air, thrown about with the ease of a child hurling snowballs. Some natural rock pillars stood between them and the disturbance. It was hard to see; the snow had picked up and was flurrying about, a cold maelstrom shielding the glowing light inside. The purple haze stretched and grasped from a point hidden by the pillars. Purple. Shepard had never seen anything like that before.

"Something's out there." Shepard pointed to their right, away from the disturbance. "Move to that high ground. Let's get eyes on while we wait for the Normandy to make contact again. Jacob, take point."

"On it, Shepard." The once-marine drew his own sidearm and started moving, not quite running but not jogging either. Shepard and Miranda followed after giving him a short interval, each dividing their attention between their omnitools and their destination. He craned his neck to try and spot the anomaly through the rocks. It would have to wait until they cleared the hill.

"Any clue, Miranda?"

"It is like nothing I have ever seen before" she answered, her irritation dripping thick through her tone. Leave it to Miranda to be more bothered by her lack of information than by the actual event itself. The readings continued to grow more chaotic, spiking so incredibly that Shepard's omnitool began to stutter. He briefly considered giving the order to run like hell. Every instinct in his body screamed that they needed to clear the area. This sort of energy buildup did not go away quietly.

"Readings are off the charts" she continued, frantically tinkering with her omnitool as she crested the hill and slid into cover. "I am attempting to contact the Normandy. Radio waves are too scrambled by this energy field. It is not interference, not directly; there is simply-"

Shepard joined her in ducking under cover, taking a second to orient himself before peering up over the rocks. PIllar stood in the way. Jacob had a better vantage point a few feet down.

"Jacob, what do you see?"

"I…" Jacob did not answer. Glancing his way, Shepard noted that the man's brows were furrowed in a confused frown. "I can't describe it, Shepard."

The air was howling, whistling past his ears at incredible speeds. The ground shook, pebbles bouncing and rolling. He put an idle hand on the ground to steady himself. He did not like this. The pressure in the air reminded him of a capital ship breaching atmosphere. His ears popped as the temperature continued to drop. Shuffling over to Jacob's side, he risked his own look.

Jacob was right. It could not be described. The piercing purplish light seemed to burn with the fire of a sun, stinging his eyes, but the light itself hardly stretched to the pillars before it vanished. Almost as if the light was being held back, locked into place. Swirling through the tumult of color and fury, sparks of lightning chipped out and exploded nearby rocks, striking them with the force of artillery. Splinters launched into the air, slowing just feet away from their initial position, hanging motionless the the galeforce winds.

A soft gasp slipped from his throat. Ice was forming over his hands, sliding into his armor as if they were under zero temperature. He swiped at his arm, clearing the frigid substance even as it continued to frost on his plating. Purple ice. Why the hell was it purple? It wasn't even cold.

"The fuck" Jacob cursed, wiping frantically at his weapon. The same mysterious substance glided across his sidearm, curling around it like the tendrils of a monster. "The hell is going on, Miranda?"

"I don't know" she admitted. The words came out through clenched teeth. The faint shimmer of her biotics flared against the same odd ice-form. It did not sit well with Miranda to be at a disadvantage. Her anger would have been comical were it not for their predicament.

"Jacob, send up an emergency beacon. If we can reach through to the Normandy I want t-"

There was a blinding flash, the purple energy finally releasing, bending around rock and flooding every inch of the crash site. Even with his eyes closed and buried in his arm, it burned Shepard's eyes and made his head ache. The light persisted for a moment, accompanied by a bone-rattling hum. Then it contracted, light curling back into itself for a microsecond, retreating so quickly that Shepard's vision blacked out from the drastic change. A lurching sensation of weightlessness tugged at his limbs. Miranda's surprised curse alerted him that he was not the only one. He grasped blindly for something to anchor himself, and pulled himself as tight to the ground as he could.

The silence remained in place for a heartbeat longer, then came a noise to awful it sounded as if reality was being torn asunder. A rending thunderclap that echoed of shrieking souls and monstrous cries slapped the air. A sweeping wave of force tore him free from cover and hurled him backwards, spinning helplessly like a flailing missile. His companions' shouts were barely audible over the wailing explosion, the crunch of shattering rocks, and the mind-numbing concussion of slamming into a plate from the SR-1's hull.

As abruptly as the explosion came, it ended. The screaming vanished, the dust settled, and rocks tumbled to the ground. Shepard stared up at the sky, catching his breath, head ringing. A spinning shard of the SR-1's hull came scything past him, deflecting harmlessly off a rock and soaring into the air. Then all noise ceased. For several long, terrible seconds, he could hear nothing except his own breathing. Silent alarms blinked on his eye-visor. One fractured arm, internal bleeding, multiple bruised organs, minor concussion. The Lazarus Project had seen fit to implant cybernetic augmetics in his body, nanomachines that repaired injuries at an extremely fast rate. Give it a couple minutes and he'd be about ready to stand.

"Bloody hell" Miranda growled beside him. She slunk into view, brushing invisible dust off of her suit. It looked as if she had not been touched. Her hair was just as smooth and styled as before, her skin unblemished by scratches. It was entirely possible she had used a biotic forcefield to protect herself. "Shepard, are you okay?"

"Fine" he tried to say. All that came out was a bubbling gurgle. Warm blood spat out of his mouth, splashing against his face. Turning his head to the side, he spat out the blood and saliva. "Yeah, I'm okay. Jacob?"

"Felt like I took a roundhouse from a krogan" Jacob said, scrambling to his feet. He wobbled for a moment, fighting to steady himself. Apart from a couple scrapes, he appeared unharmed. "What the hell was that?"

"No idea, Jacob." Shepard eased himself up, taking deep breaths to test out how badly he had been hurt. His chest ached, but it was nothing he couldn't push through. An uncomfortable tingle spread through his arm. He could imagine the nanmachines repairing the fracture. "Miranda, report?"

"All energy readings have dissipated" she replied, checking her omnitool. "Communications are still down."

"Interference?"

"No." She tapped away at her omnitool. "The opposite. It is as if all radio waves have been sucked out of his area."

"Is that even possible?"

"Apparently" she growled, her scowl darkening. "Just wait one… there, I have signal reestablished."

"SR-2 Normandy to shore party! SR-2 Normandy to shore party. Come in, Commander Shepard!"

Joker's voice must have been blaring, but it sounded muted and faroff in Shepard's ear. "I'm here, Joker."

"Thank God! What the hell just happened down there? EDI just about went nuts trying to keep up with the energy signature. Are you all okay?"

"We're fine. Battered, but fine." Shepard looked at the others for confirmation. Jacob had moved up to examine the explosion site. He waved a hand, held up three fingers. A warning glance over his shoulder alerted Shepard that something needed his attention. "Joker, hold on a second"

He cut the link and pushed himself to his feet. "What do you see, Jacob?"

"Three of them" he answered. "Right at the epicenter of the blast."

He peered out over their cover. It was hard to see at this range. There was a lot of dust and snow tossed in the air. But he could see three dark forms in the distance. The area around them had been glassed by intense heat. Multiple rock pillars had collapsed outwards, confirming that they indeed stood in what had been the center of the blast.

"That wasn't… how did they survive that and where did they come from" Jacob muttered, eyes wide as he took in the damage.

"Magic?" Shepard let out a long, exhausted breath. His skull ached; he could actually feel the implanted nanobots going to work repairing ruptured blood vessels and bruised bones. Felt like spiders skittering under his skin. Both of the Cerberus agents stared at him. He shrugged and checked his Carnifex. The weighty pistol had survived the blast without harm. Flicking the safety off, he gestured forward. "Gut reaction. Didn't say I thought it likely. We're moving in, establishing contact. Jacob, Miranda, swing wide. Stay in cover. Until we know their intentions, assume potential threat. I will initiate, you provide overwatch."

"You think they're hostile?"

"They just appeared out of an explosion" Shepard grunted. It hurt to walk. Enhanced healing or not, he would be feeling this one for days. "I'd say I don't know what to think."

-v-

They weren't dead.

Kane could not explain it. One moment they were facing down the wrath of a dark god. The next… he stood on a snow-covered plateau, surrounded by silence. Not a sound of life around them, not a sign of battle to be found. Just the soft whisper of wind cutting between the rock pillars surrounding them. He did not know where they were, but it was not Cadia.

He turned slowly, drinking in their new environment. The ground was relatively flat, broken by snowbanks and rocky pillars. Fifty meters to his left, the plateau fell away and offered a grand view that stretched for kilometers. Endless mountains and plateaus. It reminded him some of the far northern reaches of Cadia, but there were less plateaus and more mountains. He could see the planet's sun, much smaller than the Cadian sun. No, this was a very different place. A different world.

About five seconds later he realized he was breathing. His left hand dropped for the rebreather at his hip, catching his breath in his throat at the reminder that different world meant different atmosphere sparked into his mind. By the time his fingers closed around the rebreather the gesture struck him as unnecessary. There was no stinging in his lungs. The others were breathing beside him, the commissar more heavily than the corporal. At the very least, they could breathe. And if there was something poisonous in the air, well, it was too late for that now.

But what were they breathing? He snatched his auspex up and studied it. Environmental readings reported near to Terran standard, with minor elevations in nitrogen. No toxic elements noted except for negligible traces of iron and other things that matched the profile of rusting metals and biodegradation.

The ground at his feet crunched as he shifted his weight. A sea of glassed rock and steaming puddles surrounded them. He had seen teleportation before, seen how in some instances the less-elegant teleportation matrixes created small burn marks when people materialized. But nothing this large. It looked as if they stood in the center of a titanic explosion. The kind of explosion that melted tanks and cut through Titan armor.

Where were they?

To his right, the wrecked hulk of what must have been a spaceship. Its parts lay scattered across the plateau, a shattered skeleton in its final resting place. Paint burned and peeled away, details weathered by time and hidden by snow. He studied it carefully, attempting to recognize its design. Not Imperial, too sleek and slim for that. Not Eldar, it was too angular and dart-shaped for that. Not Tau either; the coloring was wrong and it was not blocky enough. Definitely not Ork, or Chaos. Nor anything like he had seen before. Xenos, but of a kind he did not recognize.

The thought sent his finger seeking the comfortable touch of his hellgun's trigger guard. He picked out the faded remains of what might have been lettering on a piece of the wreck's hull, but the language was foreign. A quick visual confirmed that the runes appeared legible, in that he could picture himself drawing such shapes with little difficulty. Possibly not xenos, then. Perhaps a lost human dialect. The straight and angular lines seemed familiar.

There was little more to be gained by staring about. Returning his attention to his comrades, Kane took stock of them. Junior Commissar Arietta Blake had regained her feet, all her weight leaning into her power sword. Her face had paled to a ghastly grey, lips blueing around the edges. She needed medical attention immediately. One hand buried in her guts, she nodded weakly to him and made a noise that sounded somewhere between a grunt and a whimper. She tried to look about, but her motions were sluggish and delayed.

The other one, the corporal, stared about like a blind man who had just regained his sight. He held his lasgun in limp hands, head on a loose swivel as he took in their new environment. His jaw hung open stupidly, too confused to keep it closed.

"Eyes front" Kane snapped. The corporal jumped, his weapon leaping to his shoulder. Casting the Kasrkin a shamed grimace, the trooper nodded and began scanning the one hundred eighty degree arc to his front with full attention. He dropped to a knee, bracing his weapon in case he needed to fire. It was a move made out of pure reflex; the man had no idea what to do. Orders made it easy. When in doubt, follow orders. The idle mind is the Enemy's workshop.

Retreating to the Commissar's side, Kane double-checked his power pack. The soft amber light at the base of the pack warned him that he was almost empty. Just a couple more magazines after that. They needed to find shelter. At the least, a place to limit their visibility and get a fire going to recharge their packs. His attention shifted as the Commissar took her blood-soaked hand away from her stomach and fumbled for her holstered bolt pistol. He put a firm hand over it, indicating she need not worry.

"Sit down, ma'am. I'll get to you in a moment."

She tried to glare at him, mutter something about the need to secure their position, but her voice failed her. Refusing to sit, she merely stuck her hand back into her coat and began whispering a litany of strength through nerveless lungs.

"What am I looking for" Corporal Brunson called out. The barely restrained panic in his voice told Kane that the man was just barely holding it together. He could not blame the man. A minute ago they had been staring down a warzone they had just fought and killed over. Now they were somewhere entirely different, surrounded by an entirely new environment. He thought back to the Titan's weapon. The warp blaster. Was this the Warp? Had they been launched into hell? That was a rather disconcerting idea.

"Everything" Kane replied. He risked taking a few steps away from the commissar and started in the direction of the wreckage. Nothing rose to greet him, no shadowy figures or screaming hordes of daemons. Perhaps this wasn't the Warp. It felt too… normal. From what he had been told in the sermons, the Warp was a place where reality had no meaning. Where physics held no sway and the mind ran rampant on unadulterated lusts. It was pure chaos. This plateau was not chaotic. It was entirely ordinary.

"Where the frak are we, Sergea-"

"Don't worry about where we are" Kane barked. "Focus on what we are. Ammo count, now! Injury report as well."

"I, uh, yes."

Kane listened to the clacking of equipment as Corporal Brunson checked his gear.

"One magazine, full load. Three empty. One in the chamber, got maybe… eight shots left? Couple spares in my pockets. I picked up the lieutenant's laspistol as well. Just two magazines for that, both empty. No, one slotted. Sweet Sainthood, it's full load."

"Good. Injury?"

"Scratches" he answered. The mindless task had returned a bit of his senses. He spoke with more conviction the more he talked. "Left wrist is pretty bruised, but I'll manage."

"Understood. Ma'am?"

"Sergeant." The commissar's voice was terribly weak. Kane slung his hellgun and turned to help her. Beneath her coat he saw the extent of her wounds. Her cuirass had been shorn in half. The entire shirt and pants were drenched in blood. It trickled through her fingers like a tributary, eager to join the full river. "Bi… biofoam."

"On it, ma'am." He groped for the emergency kit stowed in his left leg pouch. Ripping the sturdy ties that held it closed, he snatched up a single-use biofoam canister and pushed her cuirass back. Her body trembled, and her eyes pressed closed as she bit down on a cry of pain. "Easy does it, ma'am. That'll hold you for a minute. Let me get our situation settled and I'll hit you with everything we've..."

His words were lost when Corporal Brunson let out a panicked cry.

"Contact, my front!"

Kane spun towards the alert, sliding his hellgun free and sighting down the scope before Corporal Brunson's words ceased ringing in his ears. Stepping in front of the commissar as a shield, he allowed a heartbeat's hesitation to ensure they were not taking fire before searching out the cause of the trooper's worry.

There. A humanoid figure in dark grey armor had appeared from behind one of the rock formations. Its armor shared similarities with the wrecked ship's design: sleek, curved edges, and slim. Not as slim as Eldar armor, but not as bulky as Guard flak. It covered his entire body except for a bared head. The face was human, or at least close to. In the shadows of the rocks it was hard to tell.

The stranger advanced slowly, hands held up and to the sides in the universal gesture of declaring unarmed. Not trusting the gesture alone, Kane scanned the person's figure for weapons. An unidentified device on his hip, potentially a weapon but nothing he had seen before. An orange glow emanated from the back of his left wrist. Warp energy he had seen before had been purple, so that was also an unknown. His posture spoke military.

The newcomer stopped a rock's throw away, waiting in silence. Kane extended a hand and motioned for him to approach, his eyes darting left to right in case there were more. None that he could see. Either the man was alone or he had well-hidden companions. The latter seemed more likely. This was no survivor of the crash. The crash reeked of age. This one looked fresh and clean.

"Come out where we can see you" Kane ordered.

The figure hesitated. He faced Kane, then resumed advancing, this time much slower and with more deliberation. As the stranger came out of the shadows, Kane grew certain that the stranger was indeed human. It had a human's face, too thick and heavy to be Eldar. He had short cropped hair with dark eyebrows and luminous, bright blue eyes. He had scars as well, scars that seemed to glow with an inner light that might have been concealed augmetics.

Human did not reassure Kane. Humans could be just as dangerous as xenos. More so, even. He had fought against men that had sided with xenos, with Chaos, with simple anarchy even. One thing he had learned at a young age, mankind had the greatest potential for good, and an equal potential for evil as well. He had no way of knowing if the man in front of him swore allegiance to the God-Emperor of Mankind or some other power.

If this man swore by the aquila, they had found a strange ally. His armor was of a kind Kane had never seen nor heard of before. The armored plating reminded Kane of ceramite power armor, but it lacked the bulkiness of anything he had seen before and there was no visible power supply. This seemed almost thin, not even as thick as Guard flak. Perhaps it was not an armored suit, but an environmental suit. That would not make sense, because he had his head uncovered. What was it then? Was it some Tau model? He grimaced at the thought. Of all the Imperium's enemies, the Tau were one he had yet to fight. The unfiltered reports that Kasrkin gained access to did not paint a pretty picture of Tau-Imperial war zones.

"Name" Kane demanded. "And who do you serve?"

The stranger blinked slowly, one eyebrow twitching in confusion. He slowly lowered a hand to point at his chest and said something in a tongue that Kane had not heard before. There were no recognizable words. Nothing he had heard before. Certainly not a dialect of Gothic he recognized. He asked the questions again, switching to the most common Low Gothic dialect. Again, nothing. He repeated the question in six different tongues, going as far to use an ancient and unused dialect that he had not spoken since his early Schola days.

When even that failed, Kane found himself considering the possibility that they had found a lost world, perhaps a pre-Imperial colony that had yet to be rediscovered. Unable to communicate verbally, he tapped the aquila on his helmet. The most primitive Imperial citizens recognized the sign of the aquila. Throne curse them, even the xenos recognized it. It was a rare corner of the galaxy that did not see the aquila and show some sort of reaction. But this man showed nothing. His confusion deepened, and a frustrated frown creased his face. He spoke to Kane, babbling in his unintelligible language, repeating gestures not unlike Kane had to draw attention to his own markings. A pair of runes on his chest plate, a symbol on his shoulder plate.

The stranger stepped closer. Kane centered his rifle at the man's chest. "Stop moving. That's far enough."

He might not have understood the Kasrkin's words, but he understood the rifle. Asking what sounded like a question, he lowered his hands to his sides, keeping them clear of the item on his hip. They faced each other for several long seconds, neither knowing what to do.

"Corporal."

"Yes, Sergeant?"

Kane took one hand off his hellgun and pointed at the stranger. "Search him, take any weapons."

"Aye, Sergeant." The corporal started forward, his lasgun aimed not-quite at the stranger's torso. His arms trembled, his lasgun wavered. Kane disapproved, but he understood. The man was not dedicated line infantry. He had campaigned, certainly, but line infantry were hardened against the strange and unusual. This certainly qualified as both. Fighting through the battle had stretched him enough. He could not have much more left in him.

Shifting shadows to his left alerted Kane that the stranger had allies. Kane took his eyes off the man long enough to scan both directions, noting bodies appear on each side. These carried arms, and they had them drawn at Corporal Brunson.

"Back on me" he barked, switching his aim to draw on the figure to his right. Another man, human, of stocky build in a similar set of armor to the first, but colored black and white. His skin was darker than shadow, and he moved determinedly forward. A soldier. Not heavily armed though. Was this a light patrol they had encountered? The weapon in his hand, unfamiliar except for its general shape, had to be a sidearm. No sign of heavier weapons on him. There was a third figure to his left. His peripheral vision gave him details: black hair, pale skin, white and black suit, sidearm in her hands. Her movements were poised and elegant. The arrogant sneer spoke of a hostile threat.

The first stranger called out, turning his head to address his companions. They lowered their weapons, though those weapons remained drawn and armed. Better, but not by much. The man spoke again, showing something on his face that might have been apologetic. The Kasrkin refused to allow himself to be distracted. He took a step back, angling himself so he could keep all three in his vision at the same time. The female stiffened, her body jerking as she resisted the urge to circle further around him. She knew what he was doing, and it irked her.

"Kasrkin." Junior Commissar Blake wheezed unsteadily behind him. She slumped against his shoulder. "Kas...in. I am going to pass out now. Don't…"

Her body slid down his back, collapsing senselessly with a clatter of falling sword. Her shoulder jabbed into the back of his leg, forcing him to drop to a knee to keep his footing. A quiet curse, amplified by his helmet's vox-speaker, split the air like a grenade.

The unexpected flurry of motion must have registered in the corporal's peripheral vision. His frayed nerves snapped, thinking his comrades were taking fire, and he jerked the trigger on his lasgun. A single las round snapped out of his rifle, narrowly missing the man's head. The stranger ducked with prenatural speed, his life spared by the trooper's panic-driven jerking of his weapon. Staggering backwards to recover, the man reached for his weapon.

"Hold your fire" Kane shouted, reaching blindly behind for the commissar's body. The stranger's companions had lifted their weapons and were a hair-trigger away from opening fire. He considered his odds; He could put two of them down, assuming they were competent shots, before the last would drop him down. Their spacing was good, their stances were good. The odds were not in his favor. "Drop your weapon, Corporal! Weapon down!"

The stranger was shouting something as well, waving frantically to his companions. He seemed to have the same idea as Kane, because at his command the others lowered their weapons again. The female glared furiously at Corporal Brunson. If she had the choice, Kane knew she would have put the trooper down. She was a vicious one.

The trooper stood stock still, frozen in place, his rifle pointing aimlessly past the stranger. Kane swore loudly and stormed forward. Grabbing the barrel of the trooper's lasgun, he shoved it downwards. The corporal blanched, fear spilling over his face as he realized what he had just done. He eased his hand free, raising it to show he was not hostile.

"Sorry, Sergeant. I thought someone had attacked you."

"If they took me down" Kane grunted. "You'd have already been dead."

He might have been Siege Company, but he knew how to take the rebuke. Keeping his silence, he continued to hold his lasgun with one hand. The other fell to his side. The man was straining to not turn and check on the commissar.

"Sergeant, is the commissar still with us?"

"Remains to be seen" Kane said without humor. He studied the woman, easily the highest threat potential. She was a tall and striking figure, with rich raven hair and a regal face that couldn't have been better formed with a thousand years of selective breeding. She had noble features. She had the commissar's features. No, not quite the same. Subtle differences, and particularly the eyes. But there was enough there to make him think twice. Her stance was masterful, crafted like a haughty Adepta Sororitas battle sister sans-armor.

The other was a man of the kind that Kane knew well. He was not particularly tall, but his form was muscular, threatening, and he held his weapon in a two-handed grip like a professional. His dark skin made it hard to see his eyes in the dim light of the blue sun. Kane was fairly certain the man's attention rested on Trooper Brunson. The situation left Kane torn. The Commissar was lying on the ground, drenched in a growing pool of her blood. But there were unknowns here, potentially hostiles. If he took his eyes off of them they could be killed. If he let the Commissar die, then they were at an even worse disadvantage. This was one of those nightmare scenarios that was only answerable from instinct built over time on the battlefield.

Kane slung his hellgun and motioned for Trooper Brunson to do the same. Giving the strangers a final glance, he turned away and started tending as best he could to the Commissar's wound. He did not have much in the way of an aid kit. The violence of battle had ruined most of his gear. Her chest had been rendered into a gruesome mess. Kane could smell a faint vapor of charred metal and cauterized flesh. She had not been fast enough. The Traitor Astartes' chainsword had nicked her. It must have been a very light graze, because the wound only went as far as her ribs. Those that had been struck were deeply scratched and ripped. How she had managed to keep fighting was a testament to the woman's willpower. That kind of trauma would have dropped an ordinary human.

Her heart beat so weakly that Kane could not feel it. The sickening spurts of blood were his only indicator that she still lived. He used the last of his biofoam to reinforce the wound's seal, then set about looking for something to bandage it. A small voice in the back of his skull told him it wouldn't matter; this kind of wound was not survivable. Not unless she could reach a well-equipped medicae facility in the next fifteen minutes. That did not mean Kane was going to give up though. As long as there was a chance he would fight for her.

"Sergeant." The corporal's tone indicated fear. "Sergeant, he's walking this way."

Kane looked over his shoulder in time to see the newcomer stop at a non-threatening distance. The stranger fished something out of his pack and held it out for Kane to inspect. The Kasrkin did not recognize it, but the man pointed from the container to the Commissar. The intention was clear. I can help.

They had no other options. His meager pack was good for small things, not this mess. If the strange man could help, he needed to accept that. Once everything was settled and under control he could worry about what to do with them. For the time being, he swallowed his pride and motioned for the man to approach. Drawing up to her side, he knelt down and spent a moment inspecting the wound. His face twisted in horror at the sight. Clearly, he had never seen a human carved up by a chainsword before. That did not stop him from stretching out a hand to touch the biofoam. He studied it carefully, glancing up at Kane to ask what must have been a question. He shrugged to show his lack of an answer.

The man began to wipe the biofoam away. Kane snarled and grabbed the man by the wrist, clamping down with enough force to stop him cold. The biofoam was the only thing holding her guts inside her. Removing it would only kill her faster.

The other two started forward, weapons raised for the third time in as many minutes. Corporal Brunson started to grab his lasgun, but before he could, the dark-skinned man bounded forward and shoved his weapon into the trooper's face. Brunson's face drained of color; he cast a pleading glance over to Kane.

"Sarge!"

A barked order from the stranger stopped his compatriots. Kane grimaced under his visor. Foolish move. The man had indicated he wanted to help. Why would he bother killing her this way if he could have just shot them all when they slung their weapons? In his own way, he was attempting to aid the commissar. Maybe he had a different method. Whether he did or not, Kane's action had been uncalled for. It had been an instinctive move, to protect his commissar. Right now he needed to put his instincts on the back-burner. Especially right now; a single wrong move could spark a brutal and too-short bloodbath.

Releasing the man's wrist, he rose to his feet and took a step back. Adrenaline pounded through his veins, muscles itching for action. He was still coming down from the high of combat. His body wanted to fight. His mind needed him to remove himself from that possibility. So he stepped away, watching carefully, arms crossed over his chest to keep them still.

The strange man finished wiping the biofoam from the wound and began applying his own supply of a clear, jelly-like substance. Kane frowned as he examined the container it came from. No sign of the aquila or any other kind of Imperial marking. Heretech, he thought darkly. Perhaps not xenos-heresy, but it was unsanctified technology at the least. For a hint of a breath he wondered if it was some pre-Imperial medicine. He dismissed that out of hand. Just because they were surrounded by unknowns did not mean they should dwell on them.

He mused in silence, preferring to let the results speak for themselves. To his surprise, the gel took immediate effect. It seemed a multi-purpose substance. Some of it seeped into the wound and the damaged tissue began to regain color and heal before his very eyes. The outer layer hardened, providing a protective, see-through layer over the wound. Within moments the blood flow had ceased. And though he stood too far away to inspect the wound with detail, he could have sworn the scratches on the ribs were fading. The sight left him astounded. No Imperial medicine could match that efficiency. This medicine was something revolutionary. Hell, he doubted even the Eldar had something that effective. What in the Golden Throne was that?

The stranger finished by covering her wound with a flesh-colored bandage. His work complete, he wiped his hands on his armor and pushed himself to his feet. The commissar's body was very still, almost deathly still. When the man turned to Kane, the Kasrkin knew that the commissar still had a long way to go. But for now, she was stable.

"Th… thank you." Kane did not know what to make of the man. He looked human, his mannerisms were human. But he was about as foreign to Kane as an Ork. For now though, he needed allies. And this man had yet to show any hostility. Perhaps there was a chance they could establish some sort of peace.

The grimness on the stranger's face faded. He must have understood the intent behind the words, because he held out a hand. Kane hesitated before accepting his grip. The man had a strong grip, a warrior's grip. They shook hands once.

"Shae-pord" the man said, pointing to himself with his free hand. Kane repeated the name. The man's smile grew wider.

"Sergeant Kane, 414th Kasrkin Company." The stranger's smile faded slightly, replaced by puzzlement as he attempted to pick out a name. Kane sighed under his breath. "Kane.

"Kayne."

Throne be merciful, Kane prayed. Deliver us in this foreign land that knows not Your light.

-v-

Shepard let go of the man's hand and took a step back. From a distance he had appeared a fearsome warrior-type with massive armor and weaponry. Face to face, basking in the full glory of the figure's size, Shepard stood a full head shorter than the warrior. He assumed it was a human; the others were human, after all. But he had never seen a human this large before. His size only added to the forbidding armor he wore: matte-black carapace plating over a dark grey jumpsuit. The plates were large and bulky, but he hardly seemed bothered by their size or weight. Pockets around his belt, trousers, and blouse were filled to the brim with all sorts of items, only some of which Shepard recognized. Combined with his reflectionless, opaque-visored helmet, the entire suit gave the man an aura of inhumanness. Like facing a machine rather than a man. That might have been the point. His psychological impression spoke of fear and intimidation.

Not that it bothered Shepard. Certainly, this one was dangerous. But what bothered Shepard more was the lack of a hardsuit underneath his armor and their inability to communicate. The universal microtranslator chip was programmed to read and adjust to over two thousand known languages and sub-dialects in the Milky Way. Somehow, it had missed this one. The fact that they were human made it all the more strange. The microtranslator had enough of a limited intelligence to detect and derive outlier dialects. If it had descended from any human tongue, it should have translated. This didn't. He could have understood if they had stumbled upon a lost civilization, or even a new alien race. But these were humans, and this planet had been confirmed uninhabited. It didn't make sense.

Pondering the absurdity of their situation, he motioned for Miranda and Jacob to stand down. There was no threat here. The other man, who appeared rather young and uncomfortable with the present situation, had gone ahead and laid his rifle down. He stood still now, staring openly at them as if he had never seen another human before.

That rifle. Shepard was still trying to comprehend what he had seen. It had looked like a laser, or at least a beam weapon. It had not whined as it nicked past his head as a solid projectile would have. It had sizzled. Shepard had shot and been shot at by almost every known weapon in the galaxy. He had never heard a shot sizzle before. The realization unsettled him. No, it terrified him. Was this beam-weapon technology? He could not begin to understand where to start thinking about that.

Instead, he focused his mind on what had to be done next. Signal the Normandy. Request… what? Scratch the marine contingent. Send down Karen. Call for microtranslators? Why not. Couldn't hurt. He relayed the order to Joker, giving as little information as possible, and stressed the urgency. The pilot was brimming with questions, of course, but he knew better than to waste Shepard's time. If Shepard was calling for Karen to leave the Normandy, the situation was beyond dire. And it was, Shepard thought as he turned back to the fallen woman on the ground.

Mother of God, what had done that to her? He had never seen a wound like that before. A memory flickered in the shadows of his mind: some old horror film from the 20th Century about corpses rising from the dead. The only thing he remembered was dreadful acting and the hero's weapon of choice, a chainsaw. This woman's wound could have been from the same thing. But that was absurd. Right?

He sent Jacob to gather the supplies, OSDs, and dogtags they had recovered and bring it back. Miranda stayed at his side, one hand on her hip, eyeing the strangers with a disapproving glare. Her anger was continuing to mount as unknown after unknown reared its face before her.

"Miranda, what are your thoughts?" Shepard spoke quietly, directing his head in her directions so the others knew he was speaking to. They did not appear too curious. The armored one had settled with standing still, switching his attention between the woman on the ground and their surroundings.

"Definitely human, but there are many unknowns." Her frustration made the words grind like shattered glass. "Woman on the ground, officer. Large one, perhaps her bodyguard? I am unsure what to make of this young one. Perhaps he is a regular soldier?"

"I meant can you understand them? Or are you getting anything useful off your omnitool?"

"It has been running passive scans." She shot him a withering stare. Lifting her arm, she activated her omnitool to check the results. At the sight of the orange light springing from her wrist the two men recoiled. The young one cried out and stumbled backwards. The faceless one drew a sidearm in the blink of Shepard's eyes and started speaking in fast, harsh tones. Miranda stared at him, her face losing all expression, adopting a mask of indifference that Shepard knew was hiding surprise. The man had moved like lightning, almost too fast for Shepard's eye to follow. Taking her hand away from the omnitool, she deactivated it.

"Okay, then" Shepard whistled under his breath. "So they don't like omnitools."

"I would be tempted to call them superstitious savages" Miranda grumbled, letting the other half of her statement go unspoken. Shepard knew what she referred to. These were clearly not untechnologic halfwits. But they did not appear to recognize basic galactic technology.

The faceless one holstered his weapon, helmet switching between Miranda and Shepard. His posture eased, relaxing now that the orange light had disappeared. He held Shepard's gaze, or at least Shepard assumed he did behind that visor. Words came out, but nothing he could understand.

"This is ridiculous, Shepard." Miranda huffed in irritation. She was not happy with the situation in the slightest. "What are we dealing with here?"

He did not answer. His radio pinged, a message from the Normandy. "Joker, the Kodiak inbound?"

"Kodiak just launched. ETA five minutes. What's the deal with the microtranslators? EDI is picking up three extra life signs down there."

"I'll tell you once I get this figured out," Shepard promised. "Just hold orbit for now"

"Roger that."

Shepard went quiet for a moment, trying to process everything. There were so many unknowns. Ignoring their weapons, which he did not even want to consider right now, he considered their armor. It seemed archaic at first glance: plate-based armor lacking vacuum seals. Their armor was similar, but at the same time vastly different from each other. The younger one's armor covered less of his body and was painted green, his jumpsuit khaki. Both soldiers, judging by the uniformity of their gear. And everything bore the same symbol, what looked like a two-headed eagle. It was everywhere, Shepard noted. On their helmets, breastplates, weapons, gloves, belts. That symbol was important.

As he looked Shepard saw that much of it and his clothes were stained with dried blood. A lot of blood. The larger man was in a similar state. It was as if they had just waded out of a pool of blood. But where had they come from? Where was this battle they had been fighting? And what sort of battle produced that much blood? The thought sickened him.

Their weapons continued to clutch at his attention. As with the men, their rifles appeared to be similar in concept but vastly different in production. Two of the rifles appeared nearly identical, save that one had a solid stock and the other a wire-stock. The wire-stock version had a slightly shorter barrel as well. Perhaps three inches shaved off the length. Rifle versus carbine. Who did that anymore? Mankind had not bothered with carbine variations since the late 21st Century. Once mass effect technology had bee discovered, carbines became unnecessary.

The third rifle though, the one slung on the faceless one's back, that stood out. It was larger, heavier, painted black as opposed to green, and had oil-dulled golden trim. Even at a glance, Shepard could appreciate the artistry in the hard edges and subtle lines. It was beautiful in its simplicity. But clearly a deadly weapon. The man's sidearm, from the brief glance he had seen of it, had the same detail and coloring. A matching set, perhaps.

The two soldiers, at least those he could identify with. But the woman, he had no idea what to make of her. She lacked the armor of the others, wearing little for protection besides a now-shattered breastplate of exquisite finery and matching vambraces and greaves. Apart from that, she might as well have stepped out of a historical documentary about the 19th Century. Everything she wore screamed ancient, from the heavy black coat with scarlet trim to the scarlet sash at her waist. Fallen beside her was a billed cap of deep black, decorated with a golden cord. Not battle-armor, this. What was she, an advisor? Some officer type?

The larger one had laid a few weapons beside her. A massive, masterpiece of a pistol, brimming with gold and silver trim, inlays, decorations, and even a name etched onto the grip. He could not read it, but he understood without needing to be told that the pistol had value. It must have been the woman's sidearm. The barrel alone made him wince. It looked more like a hand cannon than a pistol.

Beside the pistol though, now that was a sight. A long saber, with an ornate bronze basket hilt grip. That stopped him cold. She carried a sword. A sword! It looked exactly like any other ancient sword, except for a thin snake of wires trailing up its length. The wires led down to a blocky construction just over the hilt. So perhaps it was not an ordinary sword. But it was still a sword.

His confusion gave way to absolute horror at the last weapon. The memory of that awful horror film came flashing to the front of his mind. There it sat, the answer to the woman's wounds. A gigantic, full-length single-edged chainblade… installed onto a sword hilt. He could not think of anything to say, or think, or… the hell was he looking at?

The more he saw, the less he understood these strangers. Part of him wondered if he was still sleeping on the Normandy. Maybe this was all a bad dream.

Miranda sidled up beside him, her eyes drawn to the same weapon. Some of her anger had faded, replaced by her insatiable desire for knowledge. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Are you referring to the…" he pointed for lack of something to say.

"A chainsaw-sword." Her nose wrinkled in distaste. "This keeps getting better. You saw his rifle."

"-and I don't want to bother considering that yet." He silenced her with an upraised hand and a weak smile. The faceless man must have been watching them. Shepard turned away from them all and scanned the skies for the Kodiak. He thought he could hear it. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to find a quiet place so he could scream. His head ached from the multitude of thoughts jumbling about in his brain. What had happened to his solemn trip to the SR-1's final resting place? This was most definitely not what he had expected when he had woken up this morning.

"Miranda, if we give them the microtranslator, how quickly would it take for their language to process?"

"Ordinarily, hours." Miranda shrugged. "But EDI can tap into the translator to apply her processing power. I would estimate that would reduce the language barrier. They should be able to understand us within a few minutes, however."

"Hm. Maybe Kelly could be a help. Her experience with xenocryptology should be of some aid."

"Perhaps" Miranda agreed, mouth pursed in a frown. "I would say that these people will require no little amount of study."

The Kodiak dropped from the sky much faster than it had when they first came down. Hawthorne was eager to get the doctor on the ground. Only marines could fully appreciate the urgency of a call for a medic. He brought the UT-47 down like a rock, levelling off at the last minute to give it a smooth, if hurried, landing. The men, Shepard noted, reacted as he suspected they might. The younger one paled and crouched for his weapon, not picking it up but keeping it close. The faceless one tracked it in, hand resting on the grip of his slung rifle. He did not draw it this time, an improvement to say the least, but he stiffened when the hatch's hydraulics began to hiss.

At the sight of Doctor Chakwas and Hawthorne, he actually relaxed. That caught Shepard by surprise. He had no idea what the man had expected. The sight of an armed marine seemed a pleasant alternative. He stepped out of the way as Karen Chakwas rushed out of the Kodiak, hardly paying the strange men a glance once she had zeroed in on the reason for her arrival. It took her moments to assess the wound and begin tending to it. The large one watched in silence, not interrupting or second-guessing her work.

"Got the microtranslators for you" Hawthorne said, handing Shepard three vacuum-sealed tubes and the injector. His gaze remained fixed on the larger of the two men. "Sweet Jesus, who's that?"

"His name's Kane, I think." Shepard accepted the injector and its contents. "There was an explosion, now they're here. And no, I don't have a clue." He caught Miranda's attention. "How do we go about offering this? You any good with charades?"

"Please, Shepard. They aren't children." Miranda snatched the injector out of his hand and loaded the first tube. She approached the larger one slowly, pointing to the injector, then to her mouth and ears. "You! This will let you understand me." She tapped the side of her neck. "Come on, now."

"Miranda" Shepard warned, watching the man's posture subtly tense up. She must have seen it too, but she was too intent on busting through the language barrier. His helmet twitched down toward her, he was probably the only man Shepard had met that stood taller than the Cerberus agent. Miranda stopped at arm's length, blowing out a frustrated breath. She repeated her demand, making a grand show of miming the ability to speak. When he did not respond, she reached for his helmet.

And then Miranda was on her knees, a broad-bladed knife held to her throat, her head pinned in place by the man's massive armored forearm. His speed once again astounded Shepard. The man struck like a snake, exploding into furious motion too quickly for the unaided eye to follow. One moment Miranda had stood in front of him, haughty and proud in her arrogance. The next her eyes were wide as saucers as his blade threatened to open her windpipe. He could read the confusion on her face. She was less worried about his knife than she was startled at how he had moved that quickly.

Before Shepard could decide whether or not to step in, the man released his hold on her. Grabbing her by the nape of her neck, he lifted her to her feet with one hand and pushed her away. Had the situation been less tense he might have laughed at the humiliation that seeped across her face. Miranda had made her origins no secret. She was as close to a superhuman as existed at the time. Her body had been genetically sculpted to be faster, stronger, more durable, than any other human alive. And this stranger had just trounced her out of hand like a school child.

"Easy" Shepard said, putting out a hand to calm her down before her rage made itself known. The larger man, he saw, had taken the injector from her. He held it before his visor, studying it carefully. His knife had disappeared, vanishing as if it had not existed in the first place.

"I am going to rip his f-" Miranda began, a snarl building in her throat. Shepard shook his head firmly.

"Your fault. You don't get to retaliate. Besides," Shepard pointed. The man said something to his companion, who trudged over with a perplexed grimace on his face. The larger one shoved the injector out to him. A sharp exchange passed between them, one that the smaller man lost, and he reluctantly took the injector and plunged it into his neck. Then the strangers turned to Shepard.

"What you just injected yourself with was a microtranslator" Shepard explained, knowing that it would take some time before the man's mind adjusted to the influx of subconscious knowledge. Still, he had to talk about something. Might as well do this. "It will adapt your brain to understand the galactic languages. Any moment now you should be understanding me. How about now?"

The man stared blankly. Shepard bit back a curse. Shepard repeated the question three more times, feeling slightly foolish as the man continued to stare. Then, on the fifth repetition, the man blinked in surprise and opened his mouth. Whatever it was he said, Shepard did not know. But it sure looked like the translator was working.

"Hold up three fingers."

The man did. Shepard allowed a small grin and continued. "That is device has injected you with a microscopic translation matrix. It will let you understand every recorded language in the galaxy. Can you please explain that to your…" Shepard pointed to the bigger, better armored man. "To him?"

The man spoke to his superior. The big man replied in a harsh tone, but he reached up and took his helmet off. Shepard braced himself as the man behind the mask was revealed. The face beneath matched his expectations. It was a strong, hardened face, with a harsh mouth, a powerful jaw, and brooding eyebrows. Glowing violet eyes, brighter than any he had seen before, reflected the soft light of the sun as he gazed from Shepard to the injector. Taking it calmly, he held it up to inspect and slid in the second tube. A disgusted look crossed his face, but he rammed it into his neck and pulled the trigger without a word.

Shepard gave him a few moments before speaking again. "I am Commander Shepard of the Systems Alliance. This is Miranda Lawson, my Executive Officer. The man who was with us earlier is Jacob Taylor, the ship armorer. And this is Doctor Karin Chakwas, our medical officer. We mean you no harm."

The men exchanged odd looks. The bigger one scowled deeply and pointed to the silver, double-headed eagle insignia on the breastplate over his heart. Shepard looked at it and frowned.

"I am sorry, but I do not recognize that. What does it stand for?"

Again, the men eyed each other. The big one knelt down and began sketching symbols in the dirt. As he did so he looked to Shepard. Some of it looked vaguely like a variant of Cyrillic, but the letters were different enough he could not quite understand it. Shepard shook his head.

"Sorry, but I can't read that. Doctor Chakwas, what is her status?"

"She will live, Shepard" the doctor replied. She looked up from the prone woman. "But we need to get her to the Normandy's medical facilities. I have never seen a wound like this before. It is as if someone took a... I don't even know how to describe this sort of wound."

"Understood, Doc." Shepard gestured towards the men. "We need to move your companion up to our ship's medical facilities. You are of course welcome to come with us. Lord only knows how you got here in the first place."

The men nodded and walked over to stand protectively by her side. The small one picked up her weapons in addition to his own, leaving him overflowing in equipment. Shepard offered to help, but they made it clear they would not hand anything over. Understandable. While they collected their things, and Jacob returned with two loaded packs of equipment, Hawthorne fetched a stretcher from the Kodiak, and they eased the woman onto it.

The larger one kept his helmet off, choosing to leave it hanging from his belt. He hesitated beside the Kodiak, inspecting it like a butcher inspecting a cattle purchase. His mouth twisted in a sneer of disapproval, but once they loaded the woman on board he stepped in and took a seat. The Kodiak's seats had not been made for a man of his size. He sat uncomfortably, taking up his own seat and half of another, though his massive collection of weapons occupied the remains of the second seat. His gaze darted to and for about the hold, drinking it all in, perhaps searching for anything recognizable.

Shepard waited until everyone had boarded before taking his own place. He pounded the hull to give Hawthorne the go-ahead. The hatch descended, and he took one final look at the skeleton of the SR-1. It was a sobering sight. Now, as they left the SR-1 and journeyed to the SR-2, he could not shake the thought in his mind.

Life as he knew it had forever changed. And there three strange men and women were only going to change it a whole lot more.

-v-

The strange shuttle landed with a loud clanking. Though it was entirely unImperial and exotic, Kane had to admit that the ride was quite smooth. He had hardly noticed the atmospheric turbulence as they ascended from the snow planet to their ship in orbit. The lack of viewscreens meant he had nothing better to do that observe those around him, and he wasted no time in memorizing what he could of these strangers.

The leader, who called himself Commander Shepard, had a lot on his mind. Kane recognized the man's far-off gaze for what it was. He may not have admitted it, but this Commander Shepard was as at a loss as Kane was. Neither knew what to do with the other. And if the rank Commander meant what he thought it meant, he had a lot on his plate to start with. Which begged the question, what was a commanding officer doing on his own with only a couple companions? Perhaps they had come down to inspect or search the ruins. But why not send down a full contingent of guardsmen and tech adepts? Had the wrecked ship some attachment to the man? Was there some special significance to it?

Whatever the case, this Commander did not appear to be the typical officer. He was heavily scarred, though the scars were well healed. Kane did not trust the soft glow emanating from underneath the man's scars. That wasn't natural. Something was off about the man. He had the build and posture of a soldier. Perhaps he had suffered some grievous injury in the past and had paid for high-quality augmetic replacements. There was little use pondering it. There were too many questions to dwell on any particular one, especially if he had no way of discovering the answer.

He shifted his attention instead to the doctor. This was a kind of woman he recognized well. Even her name sounded like a medicae's name. Karen Chakwas. Not threatening, somewhat reassuring. Older, weathered, not a fighter, but brimming with a stubbornness and dedication to her work that had saved countless lives. And lost countless more. There was a sadness in her eyes; it only showed when she gazed at the gaping wound in the commissar's chest. That was the look of a skilled medicae who knew she had a challenge on her hands. It did not matter if she could not communicate with them, or that she had no Imperial markings on her gear. She would do everything in her power to save the commissar, simply because that was what she did. She was a healer, not a warrior.

The other woman in the shuttle, the raven-haired bitch that had tried to take his helmet off, struck him as neither healer nor warrior. She was certainly capable. Even surprised, she had managed to deflect part of his pinning maneuver. Her reflexes were incredibly sharp, and he had felt the muscle in her body as she had struggled against him. Combined with her stance and confidence, and Kane knew she was a dangerous fighter. But that was not her primary trade. This Miranda Lawson was an information gatherer. She identified threats, namely him, and held them in her sights while she accumulated the necessary intelligence to destroy them. That was why she had not ceased her vigil of him since laying eyes on him in the first place. Her hands remained perched delicately on her lap, posture all noble and rigid. The condescending glare on her face was drinking him in as much as he was her. Her returned her stare unabashed. She was quite beautiful, almost intoxicatingly so. Her icy blue eyes and full lips drew his gaze more than he wanted them to. She wore her sensuality like a weapon. They way she sat, the way her eyes held both unrelenting spite and affected disinterest… This woman did not need her sidearm to be a danger, and she well knew it.

The final man, the dark-skinned soldier, was about as straightforward to inspect as Kane could ask for. Jacob Taylor, the Commander had named him. An armorer. That made the Kasrkin wonder, because this man lacked any Mechanicus clothing or blessings. He seemed distressingly human to be a keeper of weapons. His size was unimpressive, save for his bulging muscles that gave him a blocky shape across the chest and biceps. His gaze was open and honest. He showed his curiosity, but held his silence, choosing instead to study Kane and Brunson with the same intensity they studied his companions.

It was, without a doubt, the most uncomfortable shuttle ride Kane had ever taken. His eagerness to be rid of the shuttle almost overcame his trepidation at stepping onto what was undoubtedly a non-Imperial vessel.

And how exotic it was, he thought with a growing sense of dread. The shuttle bay was small and cramped, hardly large enough to hold a squadron of Leman Russ tanks. There was another shuttle of the same kind that they stepped out of, and a wheeled craft with a long-barreled turret on top. The rest of the bay was filled with crates, equipment, and all sorts of items that he did not know the purpose of. Was this a tiny private bay, reserved for the ship Commander or something?

Commander Shepard introduced him to the ship, called it the SR-2 Normandy. Whatever that meant. Kane followed along, keeping to the side of the stretcher as they hurried in the direction of the medical bay. At least, that was where the Commander said they were going. An overhead voice greeted them, projected by unseen vox devices, male and curious. Shepard told the voice to clear a path to medical, then refused to answer anything more. The only useful bit of information that Kane picked out was that the overhead voice called out for the crew to clear the way from the shuttle bay to medical.

The Shuttle Bay. That was the only bay on the ship. How small was this ship if that was all they possessed? It couldn't be much larger than some of the larger bombers in the Imperial Navy. Was this a scouting vessel, then? Maybe a reconnaissance or research vessel? It lacked any Imperial or Mechanicus markings, reinforcing his fears that they were among heathens. His anxiety pressed at his consciousness, demanding answers that were not to be found.

The architecture of the ship was very clean. Painted white, with regular overhead light to keep the walkways illuminated. It lacked the Gothic flair of Imperial design, and held little to no iconographic display anywhere. Here and there were painted symbols, but they appeared more functional than ornamental. Signs and such, he assumed. It was all distressingly non-Imperial.

The Enemy is masterful in its deceptions. Only through faith can one pierce his illusions.

The further he went into the ship, the more strangeness he encountered. Floating orange and green runes that controlled hatches and lifts. Motion activated light fixtures. Some of their technology appeared to be holographic interfaces? He had seen such before, but never on this scale. Most holographics were reserved for large war-tables or powered technological systems. Here they were everywhere.

He wondered what sort of human culture could have this technology? It was so different, so strange to him. What was this System Alliance the Commander had mentioned? Was it even a human Alliance? The Tau Empire, he had been told, loved to speak of 'alliance' and 'diplomacy.' They wooed the weak-minded with the idea of a Greater Good. While he had never read anything that specifically used the title 'Alliance,' he did not fool himself into thinking he knew every trick of the xenos, or every name or title they used. After all, a single thing could have many titles.

Kane fervently prayed these were not slaves of the Tau Empire.

They stepped into a lift, accompanied only by the Commander and the medicae. It was good the others did not come with. The lift barely held the two Cadians, the stretcher, and the two others. Kane stood in the back corner, one hand resting on the butt of his sidearm, the other drumming restlessly on the fallen lieutenant's chainsword hilt. The foreign Commander made a show of not eyeing him, but the tension in the lift was clear to all. Only the medicae appeared unbothered; her attention remained fixed on her patient, and she worried over the unconscious commissar like a mother over her sick child. One thing in their favor, Kane mused darkly.

"Sergeant?" Corporal Brunson did not make eye contact. He looked straight ahead, staring at the hatch. The Commander glanced over at them, but said nothing.

"Go ahead, trooper."

"What are we doing?"

"Getting the commissar to medical facilities."

"That's not what I meant." The man shivered, whether because he realized that he had just snarked a Kasrkin or because he had precious little grasp on his courage. Kane could sympathize. The man did not have a Kasrkin's training to steel his nerves.

"Do not concern yourself with our fate, Corporal. Whatever happens, make your Emperor proud."

The trooper remained silent, pondering his chastisement. That was good. Give him something to think about, something to take his mind off their predicament. In truth, Kane's mind was racing. His hands twitched from the effort of not cradling his hellgun at the ready. Every instinct told him to prepare for battle. They were surrounded by unknowns, and unknowns were hostile until proven otherwise. So far he had little to go with, other than the strange terms being thrown out by the Commander and his crew. AI. Systems Alliance. Citadel Council. He dreaded the answers he would be given. The more he listened, the more isolated they were. No mention of the Imperium, or of anything remotely familiar.

The elevator opened into a well-lit and smoothly polished hallway, stretching no far in either direction. Directly across from the entrance hung a tall plaque of what appeared to be polished obsidian. Long scrawling characters marked the board at regular intervals. He could guess the intent of the plaque easily enough. A requiem of the dead. Those crew who fell in the line of duty. A paltry number, less than twenty. Either this ship saw no real combat or they saw no combat at all. He had spent enough time on Imperial vessels to understand that a hundred times this number died every year, if not month when considering the slave ratings. And for a ship-of-the-line in a combat zone… a Naval Commander would wet his pants at a casualty rate this low. The plaque reinforced his belief that this was indeed some sort of scouting or research vessel. Were they among spies?

The medicae led them to the left, pushing the stretcher along with little effort. Though they had transferred the commissar onto a cart, it lacked wheels of any sort. Instead it appeared to hover just off the floor. Faint blueish light seeped out from the bottom of the cart. Antigrav technology? He was wary of that. Xenos used antigrav technology. Both the Eldar and the Tau were familiar with it, according to reports. And while it was not entirely unheard of within the Imperium, it was incredibly rare. To have access to even a single item of antigrav technology required uncountable wealth, power, and connections.

As they rounded the smooth corridor, Kane found himself entering an open space. To his left, a few rows of tables. Beyond that was a double row of lockers, a countertop, and a long passageway. To his direct front, a sealed room with open windows on the sides. It was open, indefensible.

And it was occupied. Several crewmembers sat at the tables or clustered around the countertop, grabbing food as if it was entirely normal to sit about and chat with the cooks. Singular cook, Kane noted in amazement. Was this a mess hall, or an officer's lounge? He saw nothing to signify rank among the different uniforms. There were few enough to make up a department's notable ranks, but these crew lacked the stiff upper-crust snobbery of Imperial officers. They were casual, appallingly casual in their manner. One sitting backwards on his chair, arms crossed over the backrest. Another with his head ducked between his hands as he attempted to sleep on the table. Two crew across from each other engaging in rather overt and entirely unsancionable flirtation.

All conversation ceased at his appearance. Crewmen trailed off mid-sentence, their attention stolen by the hulking Kasrkin's entrance. One dropped her platter in surprise. Eyes widened in fear. Several cursed loudly. Their reaction was understandable. Kane judged his size to be quite impressive; none of these crew could have stood reaching his shoulder. The only that stood roughly his size so far as he had seen were the Commander and the dark-haired officer. Even then, the size difference was noticeable. He was a giant among them.

Even if he wasn't, there was also the startling contrast of the painfully neat and clean ship interior versus his bloodsoaked armor. Kane returned their stares, matching each one until they glanced aside, unable to hold his gaze. But their stares followed him all the way into the medical bay. Frantic whispers chased after them. Kane did not bother attempting to hear. He had little to worry about the regular crew. They were faceless, mindless, just cogs in the great machine-wheels that ran the Imperium. It was a waste of time to even consider their thoughts.

It did trouble him that the crew had no sense of urgency. On an Imperial vessel, there was little time for the crew to roam freely about. Either they were at their duty stations or they were in their quarters. Sitting about like this was intolerable. Where was their sense of urgency? Did this vessel have such crew in abundance that they could sit about and idle the day away? The lackadaisical sitting about disgusted him. Surely such sloth would not have been tolerated in the Imperial Navy.

What in Throne's Grace was wrong with these people?

"The medical bay is just in here" Commander Shepard announced, striding ahead of the stretcher to activate a glowing rune beside the double doors. The door slid open, outwards instead of vertically. That was another thing he did not understand. On Imperial ships, the hatches slid upwards so that, in the event of power loss, they would slam down to seal off the room. Horizontal hatches were unsafe, inefficient.

That being said, they possessed an incredible medical bay. Incredibly small, but incredible nonetheless. Kane stopped just inside the hatch, drinking in the sight of a well-stocked, neatly cleaned, empty medical bay. The sight left him momentarily awed. never before in his life had he seen a facility like this. It was free of blood, the stink of ozone and antiseptics, and ghastly servitors to aid the medicae in their tasks. This medical bay had the appearance of being fresh off the naval yards; Everything was clean and orderly. A row of beds along each wall, with some advanced machinery he did not recognize in the back and desks in the front.

Oblivious to his surprise, the medicae and the Commander hurried the commissar to the nearest bed and lifted her onto it. Kane waited for the opportunity to step in and help. Casting about for a place to set his gear, he chose to dump it on the bed across and immediately set about working the straps of Junior Commissar Blake's armor. The stranger humans had some difficulty with her breastplate, there was no good way to remove it while she lay on the table. Kane pushed them aside, taking care to not use too much force, and slit the straps with his knife. Noting a thin silvery necklace band around her throat, he drew the chain out. Attached to the end of the chain was a golden, bloodstained icon of the aquila set on a silver pendant. A pulsing white light emanated from the back of the device.

Kane whispered a silent prayer of gratitude and carefully unclasped the chain to draw it off of the commissar. His hands trembled just slightly, shaking with reverent awe as he slipped the necklace into a pouch. A rosarius. That small, unassuming piece of archeotech engineering had most likely saved the commissar's life. It had not been enough to save her completely, but he had little doubt that the rosarius' power field was responsible for the commissar's presence. Had she not been so protected by a holy relic, the Traitor Astartes' blow would have split her in two like an egg.

"Emperor lend His sacred healing" Kane prayed. He took a step back, allowing the medicae to move in with her tools, and contemplated his next move. He did not know what to do. This was above his pay grade, beyond any training he had received before. It had been sufficient before to rely on the orders of his superiors. Now he was the superior, and never in his life had he thought he would be in charge of something this… unknowable. There was no clear enemy, no objective.

His only real thought was that he needed to survive.

"Don't go anywhere" the medicae called out, not looking up from her patient. "Shepard, make sure these two do not leave the medical bay. They will need a full examination and decontamination when I finish here."

The Commander agreed, responding with an alacrity that could only indicate a great deal of trust in the medicae's opinion. Surprising. Kane knew that medicae were an irreplaceable part of the non-chain of command, and quite often trusted advisors, but she barked about at the Commander as if she had authority over him. And he obeyed without question.

"Care to take a seat" the Commander said, approaching him with a measure of caution. A nod to Corporal Brunson assured the man that they were to obey for now. Taking care to keep next to his gear, he indicated for the trooper to pile all of their equipment on the one bed.

"Our ship's AI should be able to patch in your language speech after enough of a sample" the Commander told them. He fetched a device from the nearby desk and pressed several buttons on it. An orange light erupted from the tip. When he had seen it on the surface of whatever Throne-forsaken planet they had found themselves on, he had assumed mischief. But this light was the same. Their technology, then. Not Warp. At least, he doubted it. He forced himself to sit still as the Commander ran the light over his body.

"Corporal Brunson."

"Sergeant?"

"You heard him. Start talking."

"About what?"

"Nothing important. No classified information, planetary information, troop movements, etcetera."

"So…?"

Kane just stared at the man. He waited a moment for the trooper's voice to trail off into an uncomfortable silence. Clearly, the man was too flustered to think on his feet. That meant it was Kane's job to talk. He hated talking.

"What's your role?"

"My role? Oh, of course." The corporal's face turned bright red. "I was, am, a Maintenance Officer. Non-combat role providing and assisting in basic upkeep of squadron vehicles, combat role as loader and active maintenance observer."

"Squadron role?"

"Gryphon Squadron Theta. Close Support. Got pulled straight out of Whiteshields for it. Been with it ever since."

"Unit?"

"Cubed Deuces" he said proudly, a bit of his embarrassment fading. "Uh, the 248th Cadian Interior Guard Artillery Regiment. Was on loan to the 94th. Not anymore."

"How long?"

"Three years since out of Whiteshields."

"Any combat before?"

The corporal shook his head. "Not before a few days ago."

"You did alright," Kane grunted. The trooper's eyes shone and he grinned as if the Kaskin had just promised to name his child after him. "Keeping talking, trooper."

He did. Latching onto that simple, offhand approval, he spoke about his advanced training within the mechanized division, of his home city in the southern steppes. Kane listened quietly, speaking from time to time, but his attention rested elsewhere. The ship's elderly medicae fussed over the unmoving commissar like a mother over a sick child, her face betraying no hint of her true thoughts as she clucked and prodded and applied medicines and Throne knew what else. Kane doubted there was anything she could do. The commissar's wounds were horrific, even by his own standards. Perhaps her life could be saved, but that would be a life crippled. That would make her a liability.

"... and that's when everything went to hell. This is the first time I've not been shooting or getting shot at since the landings. Throne! What do you think happened, Sergeant? Where are we?"

"Don't know." Kane kept his tone neutral, lest he convey any of his unease to the Commander. The man had stood by with little reaction throughout their conversation. If he could not understand them, he could still understand tone of voice. "Best to keep your thoughts on the here and now."

"But… Cadia?"

"We'll worry about that when we get there."

"Is… could we be lost in space?" The corporal persisted in his nervousness. "Or are we dead? This might be the afterlife, right?"

"If this was the afterlife" the Kasrkin grunted, "then the God-Emperor would be standing by to greet us."

"I'm sorry," the Commander said suddenly, his ears perking slightly as he leaned forward. "God...emperor?"

Kane stuck out a warning hand to stall the corporal's instinctive response. He analyzed the Commander's expression, filtering through the usual signs for deception, bluffing, or amusement. Nothing. He was genuinely clueless. A human who had not heard of the God-Emperor. That narrowed his list of possibilities to two: lost human colony from before the Age of Strife, or he needed a good kick to the face to wake up.

"The God-Emperor of mankind." Kane answered. "The supreme ruler of humanity, the one who led mankind to the stars and guides us all by his immutable power."

The medicae looked up from her patient and offered a puzzled look. So she could understand them now too. That thing the Commander referred to had worked. Whatever it was. Now they could speak like civilized beings.

"I'm sorry, it doesn't ring a bell." Commander Shepard shrugged.

"Fecking great" Kane muttered under his breath. He resisted the faint tinges of panic that tickled at his mind. He was beyond such petty fears. This was nothing compared to the terror of the Archenemy. Just a few unenlightened fools. This was survivable. "I doubt this will mean anything to you, then. I am Sergeant Leon Kane, 414th Kasrkin Company, 101st Cadian Infantry Regiment."

"So Kane was your name" the Commander repeated. He smiled slightly, perhaps glad to know he had picked out something. "Got to say, though, those names mean nothing to me."

"Imperium of Man? The civilization of millions of human worlds that stretches across the breadth of the galaxy?" Kane absently glanced about the medical bay. His eyes settled on a lit board over one of the desk. Flashing lights blinked at him. He could not read them, then a gentle pressure built in his skull behind his eyes. The symbols wavered, then shifted and became clear to him. 18:46 ET. This translation device appeared to be quite efficient. It even allowed him to read their writing. Interesting. "What is the current date, Commander?"

"June 20th."

"That means nothing to me. Year."

"2185, Earth Standard. Why?"

Corporal Brunson swore loudly. Kane recoiled, his mind going numb for half a moment. Despite his finely honed control, he faced a surge of dread that made his palms sweat.

-v-

"Why?" Commander Shepard gave them an odd look. He could understand them now, though they had heavy accents. Now that he could understand their speech, however, he had entered a whole new level of weird. Half the things they said made no sense. And they spat out these names as if they were something that he was supposed to know. "What year do you think it is?"

The two men remained silent, lost in their confusion. At last the larger one, Sergeant Kane, spoke. His voice was chilly, deliberate and methodical. He spoke with the forced calm of a man picking and weighing each word. "The year two thousand, one hundred eighty five. By your civilization's' existence?"

"The year Two One Eight Five since basic human civilization emerged," Shepard countered. "Granted, there are a few thousand years of recorded human history before the zero-point, but why is that a surprise to you? You're human. Shouldn't you know this?"

The man remained silent. The other one, who had yet to introduce himself, had the perplexed expression of a man who had just been smacked hard in the face for no apparent reason. Their confusion continued to bother Shepard. Where had they come from? What sort of memory loss were they suffering from, and where had they found this strange armor and weaponry? Was this lost Prothean technology, or perhaps the relics of an even older civilization?

"The third millennium" Kane breathed, his words coming out in a restrained sigh. "Mankind's infancy."

"What do you mean, infancy" Shepard asked. These men were off their rocks. He considered for a moment calling Jacob and Miranda in, but decided against that. It would only escalate things. If these two were nuts, the last thing he wanted to do was bring in something that would exacerbate the situation.

"I mean," the scowling Kane replied, "that you have got to be joking. That can't be possible."

"Why not?" His curiosity bled through his suspicions. Crossing his arms over his chest, Shepard leaned back against Karen's desk and decided to listen. Perhaps he would get some clues out of what they told him.

"Because just a little while ago" the man began, pausing to take a dramatic breath, "no, let me try another question. What do you know of the Ruinous Powers?"

They must be tripping, Shepard thought to himself. The way the man said those words sounded reverent, in an appalled, barely-can-spit-them-out sort of way. Again, it meant nothing to him. "Not ringing a bell."

His admission brought a another question, this time about something called 'the warp.' Then another about 'chaos.' With each answer, his own questions multiplied, and the man's face grew more and more grim. Finally, the man's companion let out a terrified whimper.

"Where the hell did we end up, Sergeant?"

End up. Shepard thought back to the anomalous energy explosion on the planet's surface. Of course, something odd had brought them to the planet. The idea struck him as utterly ridiculous, like something out of a terrible twentieth century B-movie science flick. Time travelers? Was that really a thing?

"You should probably just start from the beginning" Shepard told them. He pointed at Kane. "Just tell me where you are from, and we'll get this sorted out."

"Cadia" the man replied, not missing a beat.

"That your planet?"

"Homeworld, yes."

"What year did you think it is?"

"Forty-first millennium, the year forty thousand, six hundred thirty two."

And now it was Shepard's turn to be speechless. He looked from one to the other, searching for any hint of deceit. Karen Chakwas sighed loudly behind him. Her boots clacked away from the bed and towards the cabinet that held the sedatives. Kane followed her progress, jaw tightening as he categorized her progress.

"You said… say that again?"

"M41.632."

"You're lying. Or you're insane."

"Insanity is the Fool who knows the truth yet seeks to deny it" the man shot back. He pointed at Shepard's armor. "That is no Imperial-made armor. Your ship is not Imperial. You have no reason to lie. Not like this. And neither do we. If what you say is true, then our story would be pure insanity. If I were lying I would have a much better story than this."

The man's certainty alarmed Shepard. Kane spoke with that same measured calm as earlier, with the determined precision of a man who put a good deal of thought into his words. A crazy man would be babbling. spitting out words faster than he could piece together a coherent lie. Shepard sensed the gravity in the man's speech. The absurdity of his claims could not have been faked.

"You say you came from the future. How?"

"Unclear." Kane shot his companion a sidelong glance, then indicated the woman on the table. "Our units were battling the forces of the Archenemy on Cadia, holding the line against a raving horde. After repelling the foe, they brought up a Titan war machine. It fired on our position with a weapon that creates rifts in reality."

He stated it all matter-of-factly, with the same dispassionate monotone that a vid-reporter would list the daily fluctuations in the Citadel Stock Market. Shepard tried to push past the questions that sprang immediately to mind. Titan war machine? A weapon that tears reality? Archenemy? What sort of future had they come from? It sounded more like an apocalypse.

"Okay. Let's go with that for now." He subtly motioned for Doctor Chakwas to stand down. Setting down the injector, she casually ejected the sedative and returned it to its container. The big man's eyes flickered in her direction, noting but saying nothing. "Is Cadia mankind's homeworld?"

"Cadia?" He snorted. "Hardly. Cadia is originally a xenos world, or so the records claim. The Imperium cleansed the planet and repurposed it to serve as a fortress world against the Eye of Terror. No, Shepard. Our homeworld is Holy Terra."

"Terra… we call it Earth."

The man's lip curled slightly as he digested the word. His expression reminded Shepard of a Krogan whose quads had just been cut off.

"If I may," EDI cut in, drawing a startled look from both men. They glanced about, seeking to pinpoint the source of her voice. "The native tongue of these men is like nothing I have seen before. It appears to contain faint traces of thirty four current human languages, adjusted for the possibility of millennia of natural evolution and adaption. In addition, I detect no trace of dishonesty in Sergeant Kane's heartbeat or brain waves. I am continuing to run linguistic diagnostics to identify control variables in their speech patterns."

"Thank you, EDI." Shepard considered the revelation. If EDI could entertain the possibility, then as insane as it sounded, the men might be telling the truth. Before he could reach a conclusion, the AI continued.

"Passive scans also reveal numerous unidentified alloys and mineral compounds in their equipment. Their armor is composed of a super-dense, lightweight material I have no comparative matches to. Furthermore, their weapons exude energy signatures that are unknown to current technological research. With respect, Commander, I believe these men might be speaking the truth."

"Are you advising me that time travel is real, EDI?"

"I am merely presenting you with my initial discoveries, Commander. If these men would submit to more intensive scans, I can provide a more detailed analysis."

"What is that voice" Kane demanded, his discomfort showing.

"EDI is the ship's artificial intelligence."

"Artificial Intelligence?" The other one shivered. Shooting the larger man a nervous glance, he gripped his weapon tighter. "They've got a-"

"I know what that is" Kane interrupted, silencing him with a glare. "Commander, I feel it wise to warn you that this is going to be a long debriefing, for both parties. You say we are in the third millennium. That means everything we know is gone, changed. I am willing to accept this as truth, but I need assurances. The time we come from, there are foes that can manipulate the mind as easily as a child pulls the wings off of flies."

"That's… yes, I can do that." He could, that was true. He just did not know where to start. Never in his life did he think he would be part of a first-contact. And he could never have imagined it would be with humans. "We have a conference room I can take you to, start getting you up to date there."

"I would rather not leave our Commissar behind" Kane informed him. "Not until I know that she will be safe."

"Safe?" Karen approached the man, an indignant frown scarring her features. "That poor woman has an ugly wound the length of her torso, not to mention she is suffering from critical blood loss. And now I am hearing that you aren't from our time, which means that our blood will be incompatible to aid her because your antibodies will be entirely different. So I have to rely on only medigel to not only repair her body but to refill it as well. If we wished any harm on her, the only thing we could do is speed her on her journey. But I am a medical officer, and I don't know what doctors are like where you come from, but here we honor life and swear to do our utmost to preserve it."

Kane gazed down at her, his expression unreadable for several seconds. After a painfully long silence, he nodded curtly and looked over at Shepard. "That's familiar, at least. Looks like medics are medics no matter when you are."

It was almost enough to make Shepard grin. He let out a long breath as Kane gestured for Karen to return to her work. The man's cold violet eyes seemed to grow less tense, if only for a moment. He studied their comrade's still body again, then pushed off from the table.

"I trust this doctor of yours. Lead the way, Commander."

"Not so fast" Doctor Chakwas called out, rummaging about in one of her cabinet drawers. "I am not letting you two set foot outside this lab until I ensure that you two aren't carrying some exotic future disease that will kill off the crew. We have a decontamination chamber just through that door, as well as immunization boosters and antibody supplements." She cast a formidable glare at the two men. The younger one flinched. "When that is done, then you can leave this lab."

"All too familiar" Kane muttered under his breath. He sighed quietly and began reaching for the clasps on his armor. "You heard the medicae, trooper. Armor off. Standard drill, just like with the Navy."

"Never did get off Cadia before" Brunson said, but he complied without arguing. It took them a minute, Kane a little longer due to his more complex armor; when they had stripped down to their fatigues, Karen allowed for a small smile of approval.

"We are going to need to decontaminate all of your belongings. Especially those filthy, blood-stained uniforms of yours. Lord only knows what that stain is" she said, pointing to no particular blood-smear. "Right, one of you at a time. Decontamination chamber. Strip it all off when you are inside, and don't you dare think about trying to skip out before it is completed. EDI, if they don't drop trou I wanted you to reduce the water temperature to freezing. Understood?"

"Understood, Doctor Chakwas." Shepard was sure the AI's voice contained a hint of glee at the idea.

Kane surprised them by stripping straight out of his clothes, not bothered in the slightest by the presence of others or the open windows that looked out into the communal dining hall. Shepard averted his gaze, not out of embarrassment. It was a rare person who had not encountered the concept of a communal shower before. Being around naked people was hardly new to him. Military 101, right there. That being said, Kane was an uber-prime specimen of a man. His muscles were bound tighter than steel to his frame, giving him a lean, utterly fierce figure that did not contain an ounce of visible body fat. There were scars and old wounds aplenty on his body, not to mention evidence of lash marks across his back. His massive frame added to the overall persona, reminding Shepard of the Biblical story of David and Goliath.

And he was wounded too. A nasty purple bruising covered his right side, swelling the flesh around his ribs and shoulder. It must have been causing him intense pain to move his arm, but he endured it stoically. There were other, fresher and less prominent wounds tracked around his arms and stomach but they were nothing compared to broken ribs.

A polite cough from the doctor drew his attention. She too had turned away, one eyebrow raised in a surprised fashion. A hint of a bemused smile played at her lips, and she did not turn back when he asked for clarification of which door to enter. Instead she waved in the correct direction, Kane folded his clothing neatly in a pile then carried it all into the indicated chamber without a word.

"He is certainly a… healthy specimen" she said, smoothing her voice and rounding on Brunson. "Your turn next."

This one followed Kane's example, but with less grace and more self-awareness. He collected his uniform and held it protectively over himself. Certainly a soldier, this one, but more along the lines of what Shepard expected to see in the average Alliance Marine. Muscular with an awkward tan line, in good shape but not excessively so. Compared to Kane, he looked startlingly ordinary.

"I may as well give you the inoculation while we wait" Karen told him. She held up the syringe for the man to see. His eyes widened slightly, confirming another similarity between their times. No one liked shots.

-v-

The ship's medicae cleared them almost an hour later. The decontamination went smoothly enough. He found the process incredibly simple and noninvasive. Just a heat wash of water and chemicals that burned his skin just enough to know that it was cleaning him. The pain on his bruised side was excruciating, but he had suffered through worse than broken ribs. As long as they were not completely shattered, he would endure.

After exiting the shower he was subjected to a trio of injections that the medicae assured him were designed to strengthen his immune system and vaccinate him against the majority of viruses and diseases known to man. If that claim was true, it was an unheard of feat of medical engineering. It also meant that he was going to be clobbered for the next few days as his body adjusted. Having suffered through numerous pre-drop immunizations before, he was fully aware of the effect that the injections would have on his system. He was going to be weak. Weak was vulnerable.

The shots themselves left him with an unpleasant tingling sensation. The doctor insisted on inspecting his injured side, taking care to examine the massive sprawl of swollen skin. After giving it a go, she announced that the best thing for him was to come back and get a full MRI scan, whatever that was, followed by a batch of medigel delivered intravenously to his chest area. Her confidence reassured him that she knew what she was talking about, because she threw around terms he did not recognize and had no knowledge of the current technologies.

The decontamination process had also cleaned his clothing so thoroughly there were no traces of blood stains anywhere, even old faded ones that had clung to his fatigues after numerous campaigns. A few rents and tears remained, requiring a quick patch to maintain, but that was all. He made a mental note to request needle and thread.

Once that had all been completed, the medicae allowed them to leave. Kane did not leave eagerly; as much as he trusted the medicae's honesty he did not like the idea of leaving the Commissar alone. She was his responsibility now.

When he went to pick up his weapons and gear, the Commander offered them a mobile gurney to set it all on. He assured Kane that no one would relieve them of their weapons. Kane held back from retorting that no one would be able to take them without his permission. While he had yet to see armed crewmen on board, he had no doubt that there must be a sizable armsman contingent here. If they were an exploratory vessel, they had to know the risks of pirate raids and xenos attacks. Perhaps the arsmen remained sequestered away from the rest of the crew.

Kane set their gear on the gurney and pushed it out of the medical bay, noting how smoothly the wheels rolled on the deck. He had never pushed a wheeled anything before that did not squeak or wobble or groan. Commander Shepard guided them back to the elevator. By this time a fair gaggle of crewmen had assembled in the mess hall. Kane resisted the urge to reach for his weapons. None were armed, none showed any sign of hostility. They were all curious. Curious was strange. He was not used to people being so open. On an Imperial vessel, if you did not recognize something you did your best to avoid it. Going out and seeking unknowns often resulted in punishment. Or death. But these crew stood about and whispered amongst themselves as if they had nothing better to do. Did the ship have multiple crews that cycled shifts?

The fact that the Commander did not order them away told Kane he had nothing to fear, and that the man either held extreme confidence in his crew or he was incredibly stupid. Probably the former. None followed them around the corner, though the instant they cleared the crew's view Kane heard the whispers explode into hushed questions and comments. Shepard shot them both an apologetic look as he pressed the button to summon the elevator.

"They're curious, is all. Got to admit, you two stand out."

"Shouldn't they be busy running the ship?"

"We're on downtime while the ground recovery teams are planetside."

"Ah." Kane nodded, though the man's words meant nothing to him. The strange diamond-like symbol on the Commander's sleeve, the same one he had seen repeated over and over on the ship, caught his eye. "That the symbol of your Alliance?"

"This?" Shepard grimaced and idly plucked at the symbol. "No, this is something else. I'll explain it all upstairs."

The elevator took them further up the ship, and they exited to what must have been the ship's bridge. It was strange to allow direct access like this. Dangerous as hell in a boarding action. Shaped roughly in a long wedge, there were cogitators along the walls as well as along a thin rail that penned in a circular pedestal bedecked with lights and unfamiliar technological circuitry. Beyond the strange pedestal lay a narrow passage, this too bordered by cogitators on each side. A raised stand loomed directly ahead of them, reaching forward to give a central view of the entire bridge. The commander's position, he assumed. Odd that there was no visible interface equipment to plug him into the ship's systems. No captain's throne. For that matter, there were no servitors either. The crew appeared entirely human, merely a dozen present in the entirety of the bridge. The majority of consoles were dormant or unattended, and a few of them seemed to be operating on their own accord. It was the strangest sight he had even seen. So quiet and empty.

"Commander Shepard." A petite woman with fiery orange hair stepped forward. She faltered on seeing Kane and Brunson, but recovered after a moment and saluted. "You have a new message on your terminal. Admiral Anderson heard about our visit and wanted to speak with you."

"Thank you, Kelly." Shepard returned her salute. "Sergeant Kane, Corporal Brunson, this is Yeoman Kelly Chambers. She's my eyes and ears on the Normandy."

"A pleasure to meet you gentlemen," she said, a warm smile spreading across her face. She had a very pleasing smile. Genuine and welcoming. She held out her hand. Corporal Brunson shook her hand carefully. Kane opted not to.

"Friendliest Commissariat I've ever seen" Kane muttered. The woman's smile froze for a heartbeat, puzzlement creeping into her face.

"I don't follow" she said.

"Kelly is my aide" Shepard clarified. "She keeps me up to date on communications, crew morale, and pressing concerns."

"My apologies for the confusion." Kane took her hand and shook it firmly. Her grip was confident, if dainty. A very friendly handshake. He had yet to meet a friendly face that had entirely honest intentions.

"Word's spread that you found people on the surface," she told Shepard. "I heard one is in the medical bay?"

"One is in critical condition." Shepard's grim confirmation caused concern to spill into the corners of her smile. "Karen has requested that everyone give the medical bay a wide berth until she can stabilize her."

"Oh! I'm sorry." She looked over at Kane and Brunson. "If there is anything we can do, please let me know."

"Actually, I'd like it if you could accompany us." Shepard motioned for her to follow. "I'm about to debrief them. Your presence could be helpful."

"Certainly." She beamed at the Commander, eager to help. Shepard led them around the corner, through a short passage that opened into a very clean and ordered room that might have served as their Mechanicus quarters. Technical machines lined the bulkheads, and an examination table filled the middle of the room. It appeared that the table sections stood on tracks, able to move about for configuration. Interesting. Kane did not see any cog symbols or anything similar. Must have been before the arrival of the Adeptus Mechanicus.

Taking them beyond the chamber, Shepard led them into a functional conference room that conformed to every expectation Kane had. A long table in the center, flanked by rows of chairs, with one chair at the head and a central device on the table that might have been a projector. Some things never changed, he thought to himself. Leaving the gurney against the wall, he sat down in the center-right and noted how Shepard sat opposite him, not at the head. Yeoman Kelly Chambers took her seat beside Shepard, A questioning arch in her brows.

"First things first." Shepard lifted his hand. That same orange glow erupted from his wrist, displaying a series of symbols that Kane could now tell were indeed not warp energy. Some sort of technological device then. He dallied about, pressing at symbols that responded to his touch even though they could not have been physical. After a few seconds of this the device on the table glowed, and a large three dimensional picture of the galaxy leapt out over their heads. Corporal Brunson cursed in surprise, kicking his seat back in his amazement. Kane was not so impressed. He had seen something similar before, one time when his Kasrkin unit was being briefed by some Inquisitor whose name he had already forgotten. Holographic imaging. Rare, but not unheard of.

"Can you find your homeworld off this?"

"Perhaps." Kane stood and examined the galaxy. Its orientation was wrong, he realized. It was possible that some galactic shifts had occurred in near forty millennia, but he also realized he was looking at more or less the same galactic map. But there was much more on the map than he had ever seen before. "Is this the only image you have?"

"You can zoom in," Shepard assured him. He demonstrated by placing his hands inside the picture and pulling them apart. The selected area magnified, exploding dramatically and pushing out the rest of the galaxy until they were looking at a single cluster of systems. Then, reversing the motion, he returned the map to its original size.

"Ah." Kane attempted the maneuver twice before getting a handle for it. When he felt confident in his ability to manipulate the map, he began examining this new galaxy until he found the appropriate location. It took some time. He had studied a vague map of the galaxy in the Schola, but the level of detail here was entirely different. Here he could count the stars, more or less, and there was a certainty in the placement of systems that made him wonder if they had discovered a way to physically map the entire galaxy. This seemed a far cry from antiquated astronomical guesswork of the Mechanicus.

Once he pinpointed the location of Terra, it took him mere moments to find Cadia. Any Guardsman that had been deployed offworld had a general idea of his homeworld's position in reference to Terra. After figuring that out…

"Here it is" he said, zooming in to a system that looked nothing the Cadian System now. For one, there was no Eye of Terror. It was all quite different, with more planets than he remembered. There was also a moon orbiting Cadia that had not been there in his time. A single word hovered over the planet. Palaven. "This is Cadia."

"Cadia?" Yeoman Chambers shot the Commander a disbelieving stare. "Shepard, he just sai-"

"We call it Palaven" Shepard interrupted, lifting a finger to silence her. He gave her a look that Kane knew well. Trust me. "You are sure that's where you came from?"

"I know my homeworld" Kane snapped. He sat back down and crossed his arms over his chest, eye twitching as he held in a sharp intake of breath. Right, broken ribs. "I can understand that the name has changed, of course. Thirty nine thousand years, more or less, and change is to be expected. But that is our homeworld, sure as I'm sitting here."

"Shepard?"

"It'll make sense in a minute" Shepard assured the woman. His expression carried the hopeful grimace that he wanted to believe it actually would. Kane braced himself for whatever bomb they were about to drop. Judging by the Yeoman's disbelief, he was about to hear something he would not like. "Sergeant Kane, this planet you refer to. You should know that there is no current human presence on the planet. Not colony-wise, that is."

"Understandable. Cadia was not colonized by the Imperium until the thirty-second millenium."

"And before that?"

"Shepard!" Yeoman Chambers hands were clasped so tightly her knuckles whitened.

"Easy, Yeoman."

"There are records of a lost human civilization, perhaps from the Dark Age of Technology. Before that, I am unaware of any previous inhabitants. Our records are sparse, and to be frank I am not interested in pursuing that path. Questions lead to doubt, and doubt leads to heresy."

"Sounds a little extreme, Sergeant." Shepard smiled uneasily, clearly unsure of how to take Kane's statement. Kane filed that away, wondering how much they knew of Chaos and moral threats. He remembered Schola lectures that theorized about the relative quiet of daemonic presence in the galaxy until the days of the Great Schism.

"You've never seen a world descend into madness, families murdering each other with their bare hands and teeth, devouring their loved ones in cannibalistic rages in obscene veneration to their foul gods."

"Um… Shepard? What the hell are they talking about?" The Yeoman could not contain herself. She rose out of her seat, planting her hands on the table, and fixed them all with a demanding stare. "Who are they? And what is this craziness about Palaven? What are they talking about?"

"We're from the future" Kane told her, not missing a beat. He ignored her shocked face and continued speaking to Shepard. "That's another story for another time. What were you saying about Cadia? You call it Palaven, a proper name, which means someone lives on it."

"Palaven is the turian homeworld."

"And what is a turian?" Corporal Brunson voiced his wonder with properly guarded interest. If it wasn't human, it was xenos. Kane was well aware that Cadia had non-humans origins. The Pylons were evidence enough of that. He wondered what sort of xenos they were that could have built such devices.

"This is a turian." Shepard hit more buttons on the hard orange light, and the map disappeared. In its place rose a hideous humanoid monstrosity, a creature avian-resemblance with claws, scales, and a gruesome mandibled mouth. A predator creature, wearing armor in a similar style to what the Commander wore. Kane glanced over it, drinking in the sight, immediately searching for visible weaknesses. Limbs were long and thin, easily breakable. Avian influence could factor into brittle, lightweight bones. Razor-sharp teeth, covered by mandibles but not quite capable of fully closing, or so it appeared. Head set in front of neck, as opposed to above it. Otherwise, it lacked visible weakness. An evolved creature, developed as a hunter. A xenos hunter. Perhaps it had some relation to the Tau-subservient race known as the Kroot.

"That's one ugly xenos." Brunson sighed. "And you said Cadia is infested with those monsters?"

"Palaven is their homeworld." Shepard nodded. "And we do not see them as monsters. Turians are one of our allies."

"Allied with xenos?" Kane held in the urge to spit. The very thought filled him with disgust. "What in Throne's grace brought that about?"

"Our first encounter with other life forms was with the turians" Shepard explained. "While the first contact was hostile, we quickly established a peace and entered into the wider galactic community. The turians are the galaxy's strongest peacekeeping force. Without their support, Citadel Space would be near defenseless."

"You ally yourselves with xenos" Kane repeated. "That is madness."

"I don't know what your time was like." Shepard glowered at them both. "But in this age we strive hard to work alongside the galactic community."

"You make it sound like mankind is subservient to them."

"We are equals. Humanity has only been on the galactic scene for a hundred years, not even that. And yet we already have one of the four seats on the Citadel Council, have prosperous colonization efforts, and are rapidly becoming one of the most powerful financial and military races in Citadel Space, not to mention all known space."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this." Kane growled in the back of his throat.

"Do we have a problem, Sergeant?"

"I have a problem that I've found myself in a time where mankind is willing to roll over and please a bunch of damned xeno-"

"Shut up!" Kelly's voice boomed across the room, surprising everyone present with its intensity. She trembled like a leaf, eyes wider than saucers as she stared at Kane. Her horrified scowl showed how frayed her nerves were. "Everyone, just shut up for one second. Shepard, what the hell is he saying? They're from the future? Our Future? Someone fill me in, and start from the beginning!"

Kane regarded her coolly, taking care to watch the Commander's reaction out of the corner of his eye. Shepard did not seem cowed by her outburst, but he did appear to be using her interruption to collect his thoughts. The two men exchanged a pregnant look.

"Let me begin with a more formal introduction" Kane said, indicating for her to take her seat. She did so quickly, the redness draining from her cheeks. She produced what appeared to be a datapad out of a pocket, and held a stylus ready to write.

"My name is Leon Kane. I am a Troop Sergeant of the 414th Kasrkin Company, attached to Scarus Sector Command; currently I am liaisoned to the 675th Cadian Regiment, 9th Company Whiteshield Training Company. This is Corporal Brunson of the 248th Siege Company, Cadian Interior Guard. The woman in the medical bay is Junior Commissar Arietta Blake, advisory attachment to the 94th Cadian Shock Troop Regiment. Our three units were stationed on Cadia when an Archenemy fleet came out of the Eye of Terror and established a beachhead on our homeworld. In battle on the frontlines our position was assaulted by a Titan war machine, which fired on our position with a weapon that appears to have ripped us from our time and deposited us here, in yours.

"Together we serve in the Imperial Guard, the Hammer of the Emperor. The Imperial Guard is the military of mankind, the force that battles heretics, mutants, xenos and the Ruinous Powers on a million battlefields on a million worlds. We carry the light of the Emperor across the breadth of the galaxy, purifying the foe in holy fire and scouring the unclean from our space. We guard mankind against the incursions of vile darkness and insidious xenos, we claim worlds for the good of the Imperium, and we hold our ground against the ravenous tides of mankind's uncountable enemies.

"Our homeworld Cadia, which you call Palaven, is the primary incursion zone of an area in space known as the Eye of Terror. This is a great rift in reality where the space between our reality and the Immaterium is so thin that daemonic forces are easily able to enter the galaxy. As such we are constantly at war, continuously fighting to throw them back into the hell from where they came. This is where we were fighting, battling desperately to halt the tide of the Archenemy while our commanders assembled a counterpush to slaughter them in their landing zones."

The Yeoman listened silently, writing notes. Her eyes remained wide, her shock clear on her face, but she listened well. This was a woman who know how to digest copious amounts of information and partition it away for later study. When she finished her notes she looked up and then to the ceiling.

"EDI, what is your opinion."

"I have already relayed my discoveries to Commander Shepard in the medical bay. Time travel is currently undiscovered, but scans of their equipment supports the possibility of advanced technologies far beyond the current scope of Citadel technologies. I have also been unable to discover any traces of mass effect technology, or other Prothean-related designs in their equipment."

"That thing is starting to annoy me" Kane grunted. "Listen, ma'am. It is a hard story to swallow. Your own story is even harder. Where we come from, the only thing man does with xenos is shoot them. The only life we know is one of war."

"That sounds horrible."

"Perhaps. But such is the way the galaxy has been for thousands of years. Ever since mankind expanded beyond Terra, we have always been at war."

"Constant war," she said, clearly unnerved by the thought. "I can't imagine that. The asari, and the turians too?"

"I am not familiar with those names."

Shepard tapped again, and a second figure appeared beside the turian. This one was even more human-like, but with sleek blue skin and a head that ended in disgusting tentacles cropped tight around the skull where hair would have been. Kane's hackles rose at the sight. It reminded him of a daemonette he had killed once.

"This is an asari. They are the longest-lived race in the galaxy, very powerful. Masters of art and war in equal measure."

"They look like daemons."

Shepard's mouth quirked in a frown. Yeoman Kelly grimaced, unsure how to take his comment. "I assure you, they are quite friendly. The asari are the most welcoming race of the Council. It was the asari that helped end the First Contact War and brought us into the galactic community."

"Never trust in the goodness of the xenos, for despite any appearances there is none to be found." Kane whispered the comforting words under his breath. He could tell that these humans were firmly entrenched in the idea that xenos were to be trusted. That made them fools, weak-willed, and dangerous.

"You said you were in the Imperial Guard." Commander Shepard pointed to the aquila on Kane's sleeve. "Is that your unit emblem?"

"The aquila is the emblem of mankind" Kane replied, glad to change the topic of discussion. More talk about xenos could come later. For now, he wished to speak of something more familiar and less unsettling. "It can be found everywhere that true citizens of the Imperium can be found."

"And the Imperium is the main human empire?"

"It is the only true human empire" Brunson retorted. He hesitated after that, looking to Kane for permission to continue. The Kasrkin nodded. "The Imperium is centered at Holy Terra, and controls mankind across a million worlds. Every man and woman in the galaxy is by right a citizen of the Imperium, though many have lost their way."

"A million worlds?" Shepard whistled. "Sounds like a bit of a stretch. We've barely colonized forty."

"We used to own more." Kane shrugged, dismissing the man's incredulity. "Records claim that before the Age of Strife mankind had claimed upwards of ten million planetary bodies for colonization. Most of those have been lost, destroyed, or infested by xenos since."

"You're kidding, right?" Yeoman Chambers set her datapad down. "What kind of navy do you need to patrol all that?"

"I don't know the numbers of the Imperial Navy. The grand total of Imperial Guard forces, not counting Planetary Defense Forces, militias, etcetera, is estimated upwards of one hundred trillion."

"One hundred…" Commander Shepard swore. "That can't be possible."

"It is. The numbers are not so great when you realize they are spread across the Navy, in transit, fighting on worlds, being raised on homewords, undergoing training, and so on and so forth. That number may sound beyond your ken, but I wish we had ten times that."

"What sort of battles do you fight that need that many bodies?"

"Large ones." Kane looked him straight in the eye. "The kinds where twenty thousand men die on a good day."

"That's insane" the Yeoman breathed. "The Alliance barely has a million soldiers in its ranks."

"Cadia exports millions of Guardsmen every year" Kane said, taking a small amount of pride in their furthered confusion. "Our tithe to the Imperium. Cadian soldiers are the finest in the galaxy."

"I hope you understand that everything you just said would rate you a comfy room in an insane asylum."

Kane chose not to reply. He studied the two alien races, again searching for weaknesses. These asari had no visible ones, other than the fact they appeared very similar to mankind. Potentially had the same strengths and weaknesses, physically. "It is strange you have not mentioned the Eldar or Orks."

"Orcs?" Yeoman Chambers smiled weakly. "You're kidding, right?"

"I don't joke about any xenos, especially not Orks. Judging by your amusement, you have not encountered them yet. Strange." Kane stood and went to the gurney. The two crewmembers of the Normandy watched curiously as he fished out his own datapad. Corporal Brunson had recovered Lieutenant Arnold's as well. Sometime he would have to inspect it to see what information it held. Returning to his seat, he fiddled with the datapad and summoned a pict of an Ork. "Here."

Both the Commander and the Yeoman leaned forward to examine the pict. They both grimaced at the sight.

"That's huge. And ugly." Shepard shook his head. "We have Orcs in our lore, mythology and fantasy stories, but nothing like that."

"Interesting. And Eldar?" Kane searched for an appropriate picture. He found one, a grainy helmet-pict from a Kasrkin raid against an Eldar feral world. Again, the two showed no indication of recognition. "That is odd. Both races predate mankind, and were prevalent galactic powers at the infancy of man."

"Never seen or heard of them" Shepard admitted.

"That is troubling." He slid the datapad into his pocket. "That aside, what can you tell us of the current state of man?"

"What do you know of the third millenium?"

"Nothing."

"Really? You don't have records?"

"Much of mankind's history has been lost." Kane leaned back in his seat. "We call it the Age of Strife. Warp storms engulfed the galaxy, cutting off worlds and plunging every corner of the galaxy into chaos. A great deal of technology and record was lost. From what we do know, mankind was sent back to the stone age, so to speak. We lost the ability to travel among the stars, and had to rebuild from the ground up."

"Oh. I'm sorry."

"It happened twenty thousand years ago." He paused, then corrected himself. "Or rather, it will happen in seventeen thousand."

"Ah. So you know nothing about our time?"

"No."

"Well, then," Shepard motioned for Yeoman Chambers to join in. "We'll give you the highlights…"