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.

9. Hello Miss Commissar

Author's Notes: Surprise fast new chapter! Thanks for the support, y'all, your responses have definitely made working on this story more rewarding. I was honestly surprised by how many people mentioned that they had been reading the story three years (good lord) ago and still like it.

Normally I try to respond to every review, but that will take up half this chapter, so I apologize if I don't directly respond to you. But general response to everyone - Glad you like it! Thanks for the feedback and excitement!

Reviewers -

ManwithaPlan113 - I haven't really touched or edited this and the next few chapters since that three year period ago, so I can't quite speak for how quickly he's mellowing out, but I do remember I wrote that chapter around the same time Mission Stays the Same posted the chapter about Gallardi and the asari hostage, so pretty sure I was effected by that scene.
Vostok2142 - Don't worry, you won't have to wait a couple years, at least for a little while.
Dekuton - I mean, yeah, it was forced. But the Council never struck me as the kind to come together and do a secret meeting, least of all for Shepard in the ME2 time period. Rather than dance around several chapters of coy political nonsense, I intentionally bull-rushed it. And don't worry, Shepard yeeted out of there before they could even think to try and confiscate weapons/wargear.
Disciple of Ember - To quote the esteemed diplomat Korbin Dalls "Anyone else want to negotiate?"
Kukuhimanpr - I actually struggled quite a bit to figure out exactly how to handle the transition of Commissar Blake waking up. Hopefully you guys will like it.
Cudlypanda - Foreshadowing? Of an Imperial military vessel appearing to combat the Reaper invasion? Whaaaaa… no… not even… well… hmmmm...
Reclusiarch Grimaldus - It is 100% my goal to not bring in anything that remotely reflects any real-world politics or whatnot into this story. Cannot stress this enough. Hopefully nothing looks like it is firing political shots across any bows, but if it does then the indecent is coincidental and not intended. That being said, I cannot even remember what I was thinking when I wrote through the current arc (about the next 4 chapters or so) since that was over three years ago.
SomeGuyOverHere - Kane is definitely more of a moody drunk than a confrontational drunk. As for mulching hordes of xenos? Well, he'll be less likely to do that to the 'not bad' bad guys. As for the Commissar issue, the more 40k books I've read (caveat, a lot of them are straight garbage), the more I've come to the acceptable stance that while yes, Commissars are unrelenting and fanatical, they aren't necessarily Enemy at the Gates commissars. They are political officers, which means they have to balance the carrot and the stick. That being said, she is a young woman who is still most likely in the final stages of puberty, who just came out of a hellish battlefield, and is waking up with a turian of all things one bed over from her. Cue fireworks!
Silent Knight 83 - There will definitely be plenty of POV shifts as the story continues. Part of the limited POV for now is reflecting Kane's xenophobic views. As he lightens up, more xenos and non-Cadian POVs will filter into the story.
Whynot - I can guarantee you that a Kasrkin foot soldier has no idea in hell what a Ramilies star for is, and so would have no frame of reference to compare that to the Citadel.
AndreiSRL - Oh, there won't be any 40k xenos in this story. Not… technically. The intent was to give a very limited crossover event because I don't want to even bother trying to power-balance a race like Orks or Necrons or whatnot into ME universe.

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Normandy

A handful of anxious crew members met them in the CID, Joker and Kyle Brunson chief among them. Joker stepped forward to fill them in as the Cadians exchanged armor and weapons. Everyone listened intently. Even Kane held his silence as he quietly motioned for his helmet and lasgun. He understood the delicacy of the situation better than Shepard did.

Joker wasted no time on his briefing. "She woke up about half an hour ago. Jumped Doctor Chakwas and forced her to seal the medical bay. Gardner saw it all from his place preparing second meal and reported to EDI. By the time security got down there they couldn't get in. Not without risking Doc's life, at least. She threatened to gank Doc Chakwas if anyone tried."

"Do we have eyes on?"

"We do. Burt and some others have the mess area cleared of crew. They are watching, but making no moves to interfere. One message has been released so far. She wants to talk to you two." Joke gestured towards Shepard and Kane both. "I've stalled her as best I can. EDI did too, but that didn't go so well. When EDI opened up she freaked out big time."

"AI are unheard of in our time," Kane reminded them. "Humanity has a bad history with them. She must think you are some kind of heretek vessel now."

"Heretic?"

"Heretek. Technology has its own pseudo-religion. Some people are more sensitive about it than others."

"And you aren't?"

Kane grunted. They started for the elevators. "Depends on the tech. You clearly don't have the same thing going here. In our time the belief is that tech devices had machine spirits. Closest analogy I could give you is EDI herself: a machine with personality. But this is much more subtle. Treat a flier right and it will do things for you that it shouldn't be able to. Vandalize a cogitator and it will shut itself off whenever you try to log on. The big ones have personality. You keep the machine happy, and it will keep you solid. You treat it like crap and it'll reply in kind."

"That sounds almost superstitious," Shepard commented. The man showed no offense, though Trooper Brunson flinched. The younger soldier appeared almost embarrassed.

"And that kind of comment could get you shot, in the wrong place." Kane shook his head. "As I said, some take it more seriously than others. Now, if you were to piss on one of our Titans, I'd probably shoot you myself. But that's more because Titans are nasty mother-frackers and our lives depend on those guys working."

They piled into the elevator, preferring the quick route down to the looping stairwell. With a full load they had to stand shoulder to shoulder. Bodies bumped and shifted to allow everyone in, resulting in a lot more physical contact than most preferred. Shepard noted how Miranda shifted uneasily as she stood beside Kane. Her mouth twitched in a little grimace and she kept her gaze anywhere but on the Cadian. A slight shift of her weight set her leaning away from him as well. The way those two continued to not get along surprised him. He would have thought there would be some progress by now, but every time they took a step forward towards friendship, or at least professional courtesy, something dropped them back to square one.

"EDI, is Miss Blake armed?"

"Miss Blake is wielding a surgical scalpel, and has made repeated claims to be willing to use it as a weapon."

Shepard turned to get Sergeant Kane's advice. The man held in a bark of laughter at the revelation.

"Don't discount it. She is handier with a blade than you could possibly believe."

"After seeing you go at Garm with a sword, I'll take your word for it."

The doors opened and they stepped out. At Kane's suggestion, he and Trooper Brunson rounded the corner first. The sight of two Imperial soldiers might give her a brief moment of uncertainty, or perhaps even cool her temper. Shepard followed behind, wishing he had something more formal on than his armor. That would not help engender trust. An armored welcoming party usually meant the anticipation of violence. He hoped to avoid that. As a last-second thought he handed his sidearm off to one of the marines and ordered them to clear the mess hall. They did not need curious and armed onlookers.

To his surprise, the Cadians moved past the medical bay doors. Sergeant Kane stepped in front of the windows and looked inside. He knocked once on the glass and pointed to the sealed doors. From where he stood he saw nothing, but several seconds later the lock on the medbay doors rolled free. EDI could have done it, but Shepard knew it would make the woman feel more secure, more in-charge if she was the one to unlock it. Kane understood that too. The sergeant strode over to the door and patted Trooper Bruson on the shoulder. He whispered something to the man. Then Kane motioned for Shepard to accompany them inside.

Shepard took stock of the situation as he entered. The medbay appeared entirely untouched by any violence. No trays were upset, no medicines lay scattered on the floor. The doctor's desk remained as neat and orderly as usual. There had not been a scuffle of any kind. Miss Blake must have jumped Karen as she walked past her bed.

The three occupants of the medical bay were clustered towards the back. Miss Blake stood at the far end, clad in the bulky white hospital shift and looking decidedly unhealthy. One of her arms pressed around Doctor Chakwas's throat, the other held a scalpel to Garrus's. The turian's eyes were open but he remained perfectly still. He did not seem overly distressed by the situation. His fists relaxed into open palms when they entered. Tossing his eyes over in their direction, he blinked at Shepard in lieu of being able to greet him.

"Sergeant Kane, what in Terra's name is going on here," the woman barked, her eyes darting between the three men. Though her face was set in an iron mask of defiance her eyes shimmered with uncertainty and fear. She hid it well, but her youth could be seen in the barely-held panic that wracked her limbs. The scalpel in her hand trembled over Garrus's skin. The dilation of her pupils indicated the frantic state of her mind. His guard rose when he saw that. This was a woman who was holding onto her nerves by the last thread. Shepard hoped Kane knew what he was doing. A push in the wrong direction could turn this whole thing bloody.

"Madam Commissar, I must ask you to stand down." Kane raised a placating hand from the grip of his laser rifle. He gestured towards Trooper Brunson. "We are here. Everything is under control."

"Who are these people," the woman demanded, jabbing the makeshift knife towards Shepard, then Garrus. "What sort of facility is this? And what in Throne's mercy is this monster?"

The Cadian sergeant jerked his thumb back towards Shepard. Shepard took an appropriate step forward. "We are on a human naval vessel. This is Commander Shepard. He is the ship captain. That xenos on the table is called a turian. He is… not hostile.

"Why are you so calm about the presence of xenos, Sergeant?" Accusation flashed in her eyes. "This thing is a horror!"

"No argument there," he replied. He took a few cautious steps forward. The Commissar's muscles tensed visibly, expecting some sort of charge to rid her of her shield. When that did not come she gave Shepard a quick look. Her expression softened for a moment and she appeared to decide something. Shifting over away from Garrus's table, she lowered the hand with the scalpel. She did not let it go though. And her other arm remained locked around the doctor's throat. It did not press so hard as to cut off her air, but Karen's lack of enthusiasm for the situation read plainly on her face.

"Sergeant, explain what is going on. Sooner rather than later, if you please."

"I can do that. But I need you to put the knife down."

"Not until I have answers," she snapped. The knife rose again.

"Fine then." Kane set his weapon on a medical table as a sign of good faith. The woman's eyes narrowed when he reached into a pouch, but when he merely drew his dataslate she relaxed. "Do you remember anything from when you were under?"

"I… remember hearing a voice," she admitted, though that did not ease the scowl on her lips. "What I heard was the ranting of a deranged fool too long in the void. Heretical gibberish and inane prophecies. The muttered nightmares of the Warp-touched."

"If only that were true," Kane muttered, his voice so low only Shepard could hear. Giving a little shake of his head, he showed her the dataslate. "As much as I wish it was gibberish, it is not. Here is the data. Do you remember the battlefield? And the heretic god-engine?"

"I do."

"Then you remember how we found ourselves in a different place. It was rocky, snowy, and you were injured."

"…yes."

Kane nodded. "It wasn't just a different place. It was a different time." He cut off her angered cry with an upraised hand. "I don't know when exactly we are compared to our time, but here are the facts: there is no Imperium of Man, the God-Emperor is not known or ascended, the Warp is not present as far as can be seen, and none of the xenos from our time exist."

Paralyzing shock crashed across the woman's face like storm waves on a rocky coast. Her mouth opened then closed several times as she struggled to find her voice. To Shepard's relief, her arm sagged from Doctor Chakwas's throat. Karen extricated herself and stepped away. The woman made no move to pursue her. Taking the doctor by the elbow, Kane guided her behind him and nodded towards the still-armed woman.

"I know it sounds impossible. But the data is here. I have recorded everything. It is going to take you some time to process all of this. How about we do it in a more private setting? Somewhere with less weapons and more chairs. Are you hun-"

"Sergeant, you speak heresy," she interrupted in a weak, frightened voice.

"With respect ma'am, it's not that simple. I swear to you, this will all make sense when we explain it. But this is not the place to do it. If you come with us Captain Shepard and I will explain everything."

Doubt clouded her eyes. "How can I trust a man who so callously dismisses the God-Emperor? How long have I been away that your faith has fallen so far? And you, Trooper, what about you?" She turned towards Kyle Brunson with an almost pleading expression. "Tell me that the Sergeant is attempting a terrible jest."

Trooper Brunson hesitated and looked back over his shoulder to Shepard. Shepard wasn't sure what to say that could convince this woman they meant her no harm. Kane knew more about her than he did. He remained silent for the time being, most likely drawing his own thoughts together. Their short time together had taught Shepard to never assume he knew how they ticked.

"Cadian blood," Kane stated quietly, catching the woman's attention. "I swear by Cadian blood, that my faith is not wanting, Madam Commissar. You need to come with us and hear what we have to say."

Her face paled, eyes widening, breath cutting short. A little hiss of surprise came from Brunson as well, and the younger soldier turned to gaze at his superior in wonder. Shepard knew he was missing something big. That oath, he felt confident assuming that much, had some strong history behind it.

She looked out the window. Shepard's decision to dismiss the guards had been a correct one. Their disappearance bolstered her courage and brought her some visible measure of calm. After a long and somewhat nerve wracking silence she set the scalpel on the ground and stepped forward. Her path took her as far away from Garrus's table as she could afford. Shooting the confused turian a venomous glare, she approached Sergeant Kane and held out her hand. He drew his laspistol and handed it to her, grip first.

"I don't know what is going on here," she said, grimacing as she accepted the weapon and checked the power pack. "And I intend to dredge the depths of this mystery and bring the truth to light. Lead the way, Sergeant."

Kane turned and motioned for Shepard to go on. Confused, but knowing better than to stand about, he guided them towards the stairwell that would take them to the conference room. Miss Blake walked in silence. Her gaze drank in everything, noting the crew members, the doors, the symbols, the directions. Her finger rested on the trigger of Kane's sidearm. She walked aggressively, shoulders set forward like she was preparing to ram through a barricade.

The sergeant showed little discomfort, but Kyle Brunson appeared badly agitated. His hands played nervously with the grip of his lasgun and he kept looking between her and his sergeant as if hoping for a word from either of them. The younger soldier clearly feared the raven-haired woman stalking alongside them. She paid him no attention. Whether that was because she assumed his obedience or she had no fear for his abilities, Shepard did not know. The woman wore intelligence and ruthlessness like a velvet cloak. She was dangerous, perhaps even more so than Kane, but in a different way.

Miranda and Jacob had gone straight to the conference room to prepare a briefing for her. They stood respectfully to greet the team as they walked in. Seeing Miranda made Miss Blake stiffen in surprise. Shepard half-turned to study her reaction. Disbelief, confusion, amazement all wormed their way across her face. The woman took a half-step into the room, attention focused solely on the Cerberus officer.

"This is Miranda Lawson," Shepard said, filling the awkward silence. "She is the ship's executive officer."

"I… see." The woman nodded slowly, her confusion slowly being replaced with suspicion. Taking a seat beside Sergeant Kane, she let her eyes wander from Miranda. Her posture was perfect, like she had a literal steel bar in her backbone. Her irises, violet like Kane's but darker around the edges and speckled with gold, contracted just slightly as she waited for someone to speak. The sergeant's sidearm clacked loudly when she placed it on the table, finger still resting on the trigger.

Shepard motioned towards Kane, but the Cadian sergeant returned the gesture. Having left his helmet off to accommodate the room, his expression showed that he had reached the end of his usefulness in the situation. It was all up to Shepard now. Shepard leaned forward with a quiet, nearly-unheard sigh. He launched straight into the same briefing he had given Kane and Brunson: year 2185, Systems Alliance and the Council, the various alien races, and the Reapers. True to her word, she listened in silence, though a variety of emotions played across her face as she took in his message. Her knuckles turned white on the pistol, her lips tightened until they formed parallel slits. When he finished he folded his arms together and looked over to Kane in case he had anything to add.

"Can't say too much that he hasn't said already," the sergeant grumbled. "But it is what it is. We are stuck here, there's no way back. If we are to continue in service to mankind, I believe this is the best way to go. The Commander has revealed a clear enemy, one that needs to be dealt with. If they are not stopped, humanity will be destroyed."

"I cannot believe I am hearing this," the woman said. "Words of friendship and alliance regarding the alien. Especially from you," she growled, turning to give Kane an accusing glare. "How can you know this is not some Warp realm or dream?"

"I thought of that too," Kane admitted. "But I don't think it is likely. Nothing we have seen defies the laws of the universe. And I have a full account for the time we have spent here. Everything is as it should be."

"The Warp is full of deceit," she shot back.

"Truth. But the likelihood of myself being so thoroughly hoodwinked is small." Kane tapped the side of his head knowingly. "I'm a Blank, Madam Commissar. The Warp doesn't like me."

The revelation was not new to Shepard, but apparently it was to his comrades. Judging by the way Miss Blake took a sharp breath and recoiled from the man, it was more taboo than he had comprehended. The atmosphere in the room grew anxious, with both Miss Blake and Trooper Brunson gaping at the sergeant as if he had sprouted a second head.

"You… are a Blank," she repeated slowly. Trooper Brunson had inched his chair back, hands clutching the armrests as if afraid he would be torn away. The sudden chill that settled in the room made the others uneasy. Miranda and Jacob both had an odd gleam in their eyes, as if they had just put the last piece on a puzzle.

"I am," he assured her. "That might even explain why this happened. Maybe the Warp thought I tasted like shit and spat us back out."

"That could give an explanation," she admitted. Her unease faded quickly, and grew pensive as she stared at Sergeant Kane with a new intensity. "But what other assurances do I have that you have not been deceived?"

"I gave my word," he growled, fixing her with a look that bordered on disappointment. "Do you doubt a Kasrkin's word?"

"No, of course not." The woman blushed, cowed by his anger. Even if she held some higher rank, his age and experience trumped her youthful exuberance. Releasing his pistol, she set her hands in her lap. The fight in her sagged with her shoulders.

"It is a lot to take in, ma'am. Trooper Brunson and I have been absorbing it all for a few days now and we are barely scratching the surface. But Commander Shepard is trustworthy, that much I have learned. He has given us a purpose here, which is something we sorely needed."

"You vouch for his character and his mission?"

"I do." Kane looked over at Shepard and nodded firmly. He slid his dataslate over to her. "We don't see eye to eye on a lot, but I am certain he is the best we will find. I've recorded all my notes and thoughts; it's yours to look through at your leisure."

A grimace cut across her face, but she took the dataslate and began skimming through his logs. Her face slackened as she read. "I… remember hearing this. It was you. You read to me."

The man did not answer her question immediately.

"I thought it best to try and get something through to you. Anything that stuck would make it that much easier for you."

"To be honest, I did not keep much. What little I understood I dismissed out of hand." She flipped the dataslate around and pointed to a particular log. When she spoke she addressed Shepard instead of Kane. "His records show that you are a decorated military veteran. The Star of Terra, even?"

"Same idea, different medal" Kane interjected. He shrugged when she shot him a curious look. "Commander Shepard and I already discussed that particular fact."

"Hm. Where are my weapons and armor?"

"Weapons are stored with your team," Shepard informed her. "I allowed Sergeant Kane to keep all of your weapons and technology. Your armor was damaged, as were some of your clothes. We can provide Alliance gear fo-"

"I will not wear the colors of another empire," the woman insisted. Her eyes flashed with anger at the thought. "My own clothes will do."

"Your armor was sliced in half."

That cut her short. She glanced over to Kane for confirmation.

"Your cuirass and shirt are done for, ma'am. Unless they receive repair and reinforcement, they won't be worth wearing to the shi… latrine."

"Are they now?" Her frown made thoughts clear. "I would see them for myself."

"We can arrange that."

Anything else to be said had to be cut short as EDI's favored spherical image rose from the center of the table. The woman jumped at the unexpected appearance, hand closing around the pistol, but merely stared in open-mouthed wonder as EDI spoke from the various speakers in the room.

"Commander Shepard, a representative of Councilor Tevos has arrived and is demanding entry. What would you like Joker to do?"

"When it rains, it pours," Shepard grumbled. "Excuse me, but I have something I need to do. Miranda, Jacob, see to anything Miss Blake needs. Don't count on me coming back."

He bobbed his head towards the woman respectfully. "Apologies that I cannot stay longer. My XO will take care of you."

Stepping out of the conference room, Shepard steeled himself for whatever lay ahead. A part of him wanted to know what had the asari Councilor so determined to speak to him, the other part wanted to set off and leave the Citadel in his wake.

"We kept your gear in here," Kane said, showing the Junior Commissar her bunk. She looked on in silence, her calculating expression not having faltered once since leaving the conference room behind. It was hard to keep up with her mood; she swayed between shock, anger, confusion and acceptance most every other breath. It would take her a while to fully calm down. Until then he had to assume she was on a hair trigger.

Stepping past him, Commissar Blake eased him out of the way with a hand on his shoulder, her focus on the tattered remains of her cuirass. No hint as to her opinion of the damaged article showed, but she did pause before gingerly lifting it up by the shoulders. The shattered breastplate had been beautiful once, with silver and brass etching denoting what must have been a family lineage. It was hard to tell now; most of the artwork had been ruined. The Commissar regarded it for several minutes, saying nothing. Kane gave her some space. Returning to his own bunk, he set about stripping out of his armor. Trooper Brunson followed suit after some hesitation. His eyes flicked nervously over to the Commissar's back. Even though his uniform would remain on, he must have felt it taboo to take his armor off in the presence of a member of the Commissariat. There was a wide gap between female soldiers and female officers.

"This will not do," she muttered to herself, her voice so low Kane nearly missed it. He only paid it some attention, guessing correctly that she was addressing herself. Setting the breastplate on the bed, she sorted through the rest of her clothes. Her undershirt, cleaned from the filth of battle, had been ripped in several places, joined the cuirass. Her boots and pants she set aside at the foot of the bed. Her cloak and jacket went to hang on the corners of the overhead bunk. Placing her cap on the pillow, she stepped back to take stock of the assortment. Now her displeasure showed.

"I am sure the Normandy's armorer can shore up your breastplate," Kane offered.

The woman sighed quietly in response. "No, I would not desecrate this piece. It has seen too much service. I owe it a final rest." She turned back to Kane and held out her hand. "My weapons, sergeant."

"Pistol and sword" he said, handing her each item in turn. "Salvaged a couple clips for you. The ship's head scientist is working on making more ammunition for it."

"They have bolter manufacturing capabilities?" A pleased look stole across her face. "On a ship, at that. Interesting."

"'fraid not, ma'am. He's looking into creating substitute rounds using what they have at present."

"Professor Solus has confirmed that he can acquire the necessary materials to begin small-scale reproduction of the bolt shells you requested" EDI cut in. Commissar Blake closed her eyes for a moment, face tightening in a poor attempt to hide her unease.

"What in Throne's mercy is that blasted thing," she demanded.

"Their ships have artificial intelligences," Kane said, wishing he knew more about the topic than he made it sound like. "The ship is sentient."

"Close, but incorrect," EDI corrected. "I am the only AI in the galaxy to serve on a naval vessel. My presence on the Normandy SR-2 is currently in violation of two hundred and twenty three galactic regulations regarding virtual intelligence restrictions for advanced warfighting capabilities, as well as every Artificial Intelligence regulation to date. In addition, I am not the Normandy SR-2. I am merely an intelligence designed to facilitate numerous operations on the ship."

"Yeah, I don't understand any of that either," Kane muttered, noting the Commissar's bemused expression. To his surprise, the woman turned to look directly at one of the speakers.

"You are self-aware," she exclaimed.

"In human terms."

"So you can run your own programs without human oversight."

"Yes."

"Then why are you banned? Surely mankind could benefit greatly from such technology."

"The last major attempt at creating AI-like intelligence resulted in a war between the quarian creators and their geth creation. Result of the war was the near-extinction of the quarian race and the loss of all quarian inhabited worlds. Since then the Council has banned Artificial Intelligence research."

"Because artificial intelligence cannot be controlled," the Commissar added. "I understand. Thank you."

When she turned back to the men she gave them a little nod. "What I have studied of our past tells me that the Men of Iron who rebelled against mankind had full awareness and intelligence. The dangers of intelligent machines are limitless."

"You don't seem that bothered by it," Kane said, glancing nervously towards the speakers. If EDI took offense, he doubted they would enjoy the repercussions.

"The rebellion of the Men of Iron occurred only after thousands of years of their existence and service. We have nothing to fear," she stated calmly. Turning her head back to the speaker, she arched an eyebrow. "Do we?"

"Junior Commissar Blake is correct, Sergeant Kane. I have limited access to the ship's systems, and strict coding regulations regarding the crew. And this is nothing I have not heard before. I am fully aware of organics' opinion on artificial intelligence."

"Huh." He went back to taking off his armored plates. The Commissar slipped past them and studied their weapons. She picked up the lascarbine and checked the sights before seeing to the power packs.

"You found a way to recharge our ammunition," she noted, a hint of approval in her voice.

"Trooper Brunson helped with that," Kane replied. The young soldier beamed at his praise, simple as it was. "We have a charging station in the armory that ties directly into their power core. It is more efficient than Mechanicus chargers, even. Restored their capacities to factory specifications."

"I take it there are no Mechanicus adepts in this time."

"Nothing that we would recognize. No Imperium, no Ecclesiarchy, no ab's, no psykers… nothing. Good news is we don't have to worry about Eldar or the Powers." Kane rolled back onto his bed and closed his eyes. "And so far Commander Shepard's given me plenty of xenos to kill. Only problem in that regard is we have to play nice with a couple here and there."

"Yes, I want to know about that thing that was lying beside me," she growled, her voice dripping with disgust. "It looks dangerous."

"They call those ones turians," Kane said. He held up a hand to silence Trooper Brunson before he added anything about where they came from. That could come later. "I read up on them a little on their information cogitators. They have the most powerful navy in the galaxy at the moment. Highly militarized culture too."

"How powerful is humanity compared to them?"

"In a straight up fight?" Kane shook his head. "No idea. Their navies are much different than ours. Scale is… not the same. Their dreadnoughts are smaller than our frigates."

"What can you tell me about humanity's military as a whole?"

"Not much. We've only had a few days here ahead of you, and we've been busy."

She nodded graciously. "I would like to look at these information cogitators you said they have."

"Shouldn't be a problem. Can you read their letters yet?"

"Of course I can" she snapped. "Why wouldn't I be able to read… human…"

Recognition dawned slowly but surely on her face. Turning slowly towards them both, she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at them. The pose struck him as eerily similar to the one that Miranda so loved. The similarities were staggering.

"Why can I understand them," she asked, her voice tinged with anger. "Don't tell me that humanity's language has not changed in almost forty thousand years. What am I missing?"

"They have a device called a micro-translator. We all were injected with it on the first day. It allowed us to understand them and for them to understand us. As far as I can tell, only those who are patched by EDI can translate us however. It must be a local thing." Kane pointed at the ceiling before continuing. "It took some time for the AI to learn our language; it must have naturally integrated itself with you while you were out."

"That is acceptable. There is a difference between blessed ignorance and dangerous ignorance. You chose well."

"Didn't have much of a choice, ma'am. You would have bled out on that rock if we hadn't understood them."

"I see." Her gaze went over to Trooper Brunson, whose blush remained on his face. The young soldier carefully averted his eyes, unwilling to look on his superior when she was clad in little more than a flimsy white sheet cover. Kane chuckled quietly, unbothered by the little glare she cast his way. "Sergeant, I require suitable clothing. My own shirt is beyond repair. Do you have something I could use?"

"We didn't exactly bring our footlockers, ma'am." He allowed a very brief look across her body. "Don't think I'd have anything that would fit you either."

She was a very small person, out of her uniform. At her tallest she reached his shoulder, her thick hair adding several inches but still leaving her vastly shorter. The shift hid her shape, but he could tell she was unhealthily skinny. That could be explained away by her time in the trenches. She would gain the lost weight back in short order. Her hands were thin and uncommonly delicate for having been grubbing away in the muddy battlefield for so long. No one would mistake her for a commoner. She had some noble blood in her veins, though how much he did not know. He wondered where she hailed from. Her accent reminded him of some northerners he had known. But he was southern-born, and the odds of placing her home city were slim.

"And you, Trooper?" She looked over to Brunson, who shied away. "Nothing?"

"Truthfully, ma'am, we've had to wear some Normandy uniforms to make it through the days."

An aggravated sigh escaped her lungs. "Very well then. Please inform whoever needs to be told that I require articles of clothing. Preferably just a shirt or two. The rest of my garments will continue to service me."

"I will inform Officer Taylor of your order," the AI announced. Commissar Blake shivered.

"I don't like this," she muttered. "Too many unknowns."

"You are not the only one," Kane laughed bitterly. "Just wait until you hear what we've been doing."

"Which brings me back to my first question," she reminded them. "What is that turian doing on this ship? Is he a prisoner?"

"The opposite, actually." Kane braced himself for the outrage that was about to consume the room. "Commander Shepard just brought him aboard to help fight these Collectors. He is a... teammate."

Her face drained of color until they thought she would pass out. Fists clenched the desk edge so tightly they heard knuckles pop. The Commissar said nothing. Her eyes blinked rapidly several times, digesting his words as if he had just punched her in the face with a Chimera. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was a breathless wheeze. The soldiers shared a confused look.

"Madam Commissar? Are you we-"

She lurched forward suddenly, collapsing to her knees. Before either man could find the wits to react her body shuddered and she vomited on the floor. Having had no solid food for many days now, just IV treatments to nourish her body, she had little to lose and most of it was water. Kane swore and hurried to scoop up the gear lying about on the floor. Tossing her boots onto the bed, he made a quick check of the floor one last time before dropping to a knee beside her. She shook uncontrollably, arms straining to hold up her body over the pool of liquid spreading across the deck. Wrapping his arms around her shoulders, he held her steady as she retched out the contents of her stomach.

When she finished heaving she sank against his body and closed her eyes. Kane wiped her mouth and chin clean with his sleeve.

"I… this is too much," she gasped, pressing the side of her head against his shoulder. "I apologize, Sergeant Kane, Trooper Brunson. This is most unbecoming."

"Easy there," he said. Standing slowly, he helped her stagger to her feet. "It's a big shock, we know. Do you want to lie down? Take a nap, dwell on it, whatever you need to do. We can give you some space, if you'd like that."

"I would appreciate time to meditate on what I have heard," she agreed, clinging weakly to his arms for support. "Please, help me to my bed."

Kane guided her to the bed and rolled the sheets back. He did not tuck her in; she was an adult and more than capable of doing that herself. Clutching the sheets tight, she relaxed into the pillow. Shame crept across her face and she looked quickly away from him. How old was she again? Too young to know what to do, and too responsible to just hand over the reins to Kane. He had seen this before, among non-Cadian officers when they were blindsided by something so colossally outside their realm of expertise that they hadn't known what to do. They knew they had to get something done, but hadn't the faintest clue how to get started.

"Rest easy," he told her, stepping back from her bed. Fishing into his belt, he produced her rosarius and laid it on the pillow beside her face. She snatched it up and held it close to her chest. "We'll take care of you until you are good to go. Do you want us to leave for a bit?"

A voiceless nod was his answer.

"I'll stay close. If you need us, just ask. EDI will keep us informed."

Kane motioned for Trooper Brunson to help him collect all of the weapons as they left. Better safe than sorry, he thought grimly. They shut the door behind them and looked at each other in silence.

"I thought that went well," Kane said.

"What makes you say that," the trooper asked cautiously.

"She didn't shoot either of us."

Shepard stood alone in the conference room. After a fierce argument with Councilor Tevos's assistant in which they had danced entirely around the fact that the asari councilor wanted a one-on-one with the mysterious man and his laser technology, he had agreed to speak with the Councilor via video conference. Going all the way back to the Presidium was too costly time-wise, and his crew was already returning from leave. Except for a last minute trip by Doctor Solus to acquire some new research materials, the Normandy was ready to ship out. He was not going to delay their mission for the sake of a Councilor's curiosity. Especially after they had so easily dismissed his claims so many times. He owed them civil courtesy at this point and that was about it.

Servos whirred and clicked as the table sank into the floor. Stepping forward onto the platform that replaced it, he cleared his throat and waited for the connection to establish. The familiar sensation of energy tingling up his body accompanied the rise of the holographic interface circle. One blink later he found himself standing before the Councilor's desk. He could see only a few feet in any direction; she might have had others present, she might not. Likewise, she had no idea who stood outside his own circle. It was an interesting note on the nature of living beings that when they made this technology to allow long-distance communication they allowed it to be produced in such a way as to leave the speakers wracked with wonder and uncertainty. For all he knew the entire Council sat in the room.

"Councilor Tevos," Shepard said, clasping his hands behind his back as he did so. The asari Councilor rose from her seat, a small gesture of courtesy that was entirely unnecessary but did give him some clue as to her attitude. She was not angry with him. That was a good thing. She had always seemed the more forgiving of the Councilors. More calculating, too. The long-lived asari perspective made it hard to guess at their schemes.

"Commander Shepard. I see that the Normandy is preparing to depart the Citadel."

"We are, ma'am. Duty calls."

"I understand." She offered a smile that was far too warm to be genuine. That set Shepard on edge. He braced himself for whatever was to come. "It is unfortunate you had to leave so soon. I hoped to speak to your specialist privately."

"Ma'am?"

"You really don't expect us to believe that he came from the future," the asari said, her grin growing conspiratorial. "Of course, the weapon he fired is indeed something spectacular. I have never seen such power in a handheld weapon like that. I will grant you the occurrence of laser technology, wherever you have found it. Is it Cerberus? Has your employer come upon this technology and you are handing it off to us?"

"I do not work for Cerberus," Shepard growled. No matter how strongly he protested such accusations, the Council seemed hellbent on believing them. "And no, Cerberus does not have this."

"That is something, at least," she said. "I couldn't imagine the trouble those terrorists would cause if they had access to such an armory. You can keep your secrets for now, Commander. Wherever you found it, we will know the truth soon enough."

"With respect, ma'am." Shepard cut her off firmly. "If the purpose of this conversation is to remind me that you can't see the truth when it murders its way across several heavy fleets, then you are wasting my time. I have enough on my hands right now."

"Tch, so touchy." She gave a patient shake of her head. "I admit I hoped to speak with your comrade, but I do have another reason for calling you. I know about the weapon schematics you sent to the humans and turians. What I want to know is why we asari have not received a similar gift."

"It was his request," Shepard replied. "Sergeant Kane wished for humanity to have it first, then when he realized the scope of the enemy we are facing he allowed for it to be sent to the most powerful military force the galactic community has."

"And why did he not send it to us?" Councilor Tevos's irritation showed through her false pleasantness. "We asari are quite capable as well."

"To be honest, Councilor, I did not ask. His willingness to send the technology to aliens of any kind surprised us all. Pressing for more would have been pushing our luck."

"He despises aliens," she asked in wonder. "So he is Cerberus."

"There are a lot of humans who dislike aliens that aren't in Cerberus," Shepard corrected. "Just as there are many asari who can't stand non-asari. And turians who hate any creature that isn't from Palaven. And so on."

"True, but the chance of this being coincidence is too small." She frowned, deep in thought. "Working on a Cerberus ship, with Cerberus crew, accompanied by a humanist that has exotic technology. It takes more faith than there is in the galaxy to believe that so many extraordinary events can occur with one person in so short a time."

"We're done here," Shepard growled. He turned to walk out, but the Councilor called after him with a tone that bordered on contrite.

"Commander Shepard!"

He looked back to see she had come around her desk. She held a datapad in her hands and her eyes snapped back and forth across it. Shock spread across her face.

"I… I have just received the first batch of files you claim come from the man. This is, incredible."

"Is it now?" He could not hide his smirk. "See something to make you believe me?"

"Goddess…" she took a deep breath and looked up at him. "You just filled my entire datapad and the transfer is only three percent completed. There are full dissertations on a host of topics that are considered only theoretical to the most prototypical scientists."

"Anything else?" Shepard held back his grin, hoping EDI knew what she was doing. The AI knew which files to send over and which to hold back. She had also slipped in a patch to her micro-translator that would allow her to understand the Cadians next time they spoke.

"I… I must study this." She looked back up at him. "But at a glance I can recognize much of the science behind this. This is… if this is what I think it is… the ability to jump space without the need for mass effect relays."

"Yeah, he mentioned that's a standard thing when he comes from. They utilize an alternate dimension known as the Immaterium to travel."

Her fingers flicked across the face of her datapad as she switched to something else. Whatever it was, the sight astounded her even more. "And here is a detailed history of several millennia. Each year has thousands of individual record sources."

"No sane mind could make this stuff up," Shepard assured her. "It would take a host of writing VI's decades to come up with this sort of thing."

"This is either a very elaborate ruse…" she murmured, skipping from section to section, eyes widening a little more with each new page. "This cannot be real."

"It is. And there's a whole lot more where that came from."

"Then… how is it possible? You said they jumped through time?"

"Something to that effect. We aren't sure, exactly." Shepard did not feel that this bit of ignorance would have any effect on the asari. She appeared so wrapped up in the information before her that she only nodded vaguely along with his words. "He said their unit was being assaulted by a colossal machine that created tears in reality itself. They expected to be killed outright, but instead found themselves on Alchera. There are three of them," he added in answer to her questioning gaze.

"These records mention laser technology, machines called Titans, cruisers the size of the Destiny Ascension, magic, countless alien races, and so much more." She trembled as she set the datapad down on her desk. A look bordering on desperation creased her brows. "Please, Commander, tell me what is going on."

"They came from the future," Shepard said. A short droning buzz warned him that the room's door had opened. He could not see outside of the circle, but EDI chirped in his earpiece that Kane had entered. "If you are so eager to know the truth, why don't you ask them? Sergeant Kane?"

The sergeant appeared, stepping into the circle with a good deal of hesitation. He looked about in awe, though he thankfully retained the sense to not back out of the circle to confirm what he was seeing. Coming to Shepard's side, he glanced over at the asari and nodded.

"Is this the asari Councilor," he asked Shepard. Shepard nodded. Kane grimaced and spoke out of the side of his mouth. "Can't tell the difference with these blueskinned xenos witch-whores."

"Her translator is patched," Shepard muttered back. The man froze, his gaze drifting over to the asari Councilor, who glowered at him with eyes full of fury.

"Well, shit." He did not apologize. Squaring up to the fuming Councilor, he tipped his head in acknowledgement. What came out of his mouth next was so painfully dry Shepard nearly chuckled. "Ma'am."

"Who are you, really?" The Councilor's lips barely moved as she restrained her anger. He had just about touched on every sensitive topic the asari had in a single sentence.

"Was I not clear the first time?"

"I want to hear it directly from you."

"Very well. Troop Sergeant Leon Kane, 414th Kasrkin Company, 8th Cadian Shock Infantry. I have fought in a dozen campaigns in four sectors of Imperial space, killed warlords both human and xenos, and slaughtered the foes of the Imperium of Man since I was a child. I am proficient in more combat arts and with more weapons systems than you could begin to understand. And I serve the God-Emperor of the Imperium of Man, the dominant empire of the current age."

"That certainly sounds impressive," she muttered, sliding past her anger and becoming less agitated. Her well-trained mind picked out a particular facet she could zoom in on. Something that could steady her reeling mind. "What is your role in the… in your unit?"

"My primary position is that of platoon sergeant for First Platoon, Assault and Demolition. Prior to our coming here I was under temporary disciplinary reassignment to training cadre for the 675th Shock Infantry, Whiteshield Company Nine. I was the senior non-commissioned officer in the unit, responsible for discipline and training exercises. On completion of their training I was to return to my unit. Trooper Kyle Brunson is a communications specialist for the 248th Interior Guard Siege Company. His responsibilities lay with coordinating support fire for line infantry forces. Junior Commissar Arietta Blake is a member of the Cadian Commissariat. She was attached to the 94th Cadian Shock Infantry in an advisory role. Our three units converged on a point known as Line Blue to stem an invasion by forces of the Archenemy on our homeworld."

"Cadia is where?" Her questions came out matter-of-factly. Shepard recognized that she was fishing for information now, testing him to see what he knew. As amazing as the facts were, she still doubted. And this was her attempt to make sense of what was before her.

"According to the information provided by Commander Shepard of the current galactic picture, you know it by the name Palaven, the Turian homeworld."

"That is outrageous," she scowled.

"Time, Councilor Tevos," Shepard reminded her. "Over thirty thousand years pass."

"Are you saying that humans will wipe out the turians in the future?" Her face grew dark as she contemplated the thought.

"Don't have a clue what happened to them," Kane answered coolly, stealing their attention back. "Mankind lost almost twenty millennia worth of knowledge a long time ago, but there is no mention of their kind when the first humans colonized the planet. Perhaps they died out some other way. Perhaps humans killed them. I don't know and that is entirely conjecture."

"Very well," she said, her words grudging. "What about your government? Who rules the galaxy?"

"The galaxy has no one leader," Kane told her. "The leader of mankind is the God-Emperor. But there are many fou… alien races that have their own leadership. Though I confess I know little about xenos leadership and hierarchies. My only interaction with such creatures involves lots of gunfire and little talking."

"Does humanity rule or share the galaxy then?"

"Share, though not for lack of effort." Kane shrugged. "We have been at war with aliens for thousands and thousands of years. Some we wipe out, others hold us off, others prey upon us from the shadows."

"What of my people, the asari?"

"I'm pretty sure if your kind still existed we'd be burning your worlds to the ground," he admitted. "And any Imperial world that was infected with your species'… taint."

"What does that mean?" She bristled angrily

"It means that we hate aliens," Kane answered, replying before Shepard could attempt a diplomatic answer. The Cadian sergeant held up a hand to stall him. Giving the Commander a reassuring look, he took a breath to give himself time to pick his words. "Humanity has no alien allies in my time. We never have. At best we have ceasefires. Even trade with aliens is considered treason to the Imperium."

"That is very… narrow-minded of you" she said, her gaze going to Shepard in an accusing manner. "That sounds like Cerberus's goals."

"I don't give a grox's ass about Cerberus," Kane snapped. The asari Councilor blinked in surprise and regarded him with an expression that just maybe conveyed belief. "As far as I've seen, which isn't much considering we've only been here for a few days and are still adjusting, Cerberus is inefficient and soft-hearted. They could be going about it a hell of a lot better in my opinion. If I had time to sit down and learn about them, I doubt I would share much in common with them at all. But that doesn't matter right now. What matters now is keeping the humanity of this time alive. Commander Shepard has brought me up to date on his theory of the Reapers and the Collectors."

Kane nodded towards Shepard before continuing. "And while he has only given me the scratch-surface, I find it horrifying that mankind is not stepping up to stop these abductions of human colonies. Frack the Council, the humans should be doing it. But they won't, because they are too busy playing nice to three alien leaders that are too soft in the head to recognize a threat when they see one. Ignore the fact that it is only human colonies going away. If these Collectors turn their attention on your blue asses, you'd be tripping over yourselves to get help and stop them. It boggles my mind as it is that you are content to let a race of aliens that can wipe entire planets clean of life go about their merry business while you are dismissing the very claim that such power can exist."

"We do not deny the existence of the Collectors," she insisted, confusion spreading on her face.

"Correct me if I'm wrong but you claim the Reapers, a force that has the power to wipe the galaxy clean like clockwork, cannot exist. While right fracking in front of you is a race that is doing just that, one planet at a time. And you are sitting on your hands pretending it isn't a problem because they haven't gotten around to killing your kind off yet."

"The claim that the Collectors are related to the Reapers is prepos-"

"To tell you the truth, I do hope the Reapers come. I hope they come and they burn your filthy planets to the ground!" Kane growled and looked over at Shepard. "Fracking vermin."

Shepard wisely said nothing. Kane had willingly stepped forward and allowed the focus of this conversation to rest on him. In his own way, he was keeping Shepard free of any political blowback. He might be a soldier, but he was shrewder than he claimed to be. Cutting off the sputtering asari Councilor again, he stepped forward. Even though they were separated by kilometers, the Councilor took an involuntary step back against her desk. That little move betrayed how off-balance she was.

"Listen, creature." Kane nearly spat the word on the floor. "I'd call you a woman but that'd be a travesty to the word itself. I've only been present in this time for a few days and I can already see the writing on the wall. I know the Commander sent you the same information I've been presented with. The Collectors are real. The ship called Sovereign isn't even close to the same thing as these geth you faced. I'm not even from your time and I can see that. It dwarfs them both in size and technology so incredibly that even I am impressed with its firepower. It is clearly from something much more powerful. Even if it were not true, the existence of that ship should have you shitting your pants in fear for the possibility there may be a second, much less a whole fleet of them. The facts are on his side. If you aren't willing to acknowledge the truth because you haven't physically seen it yourself enough times to nail it through your skull, then I hope the Reapers come and burn your blue asses off the face of the galaxy. Throne only knows it would do the rest some good to not have you freaks running around soiling the souls of humanity."

"That's enough, Kane," Shepard said in a quiet but forceful tone. The sergeant tensed slightly, the hairs on his neck rising as he bit down whatever else he was going to say. Giving a reluctant nod, he stepped back to Shepard's side and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. His blood was so hot he was sweating a little. The asari gaped at him, too stunned by his outburst to comment. "Councilor Tevos, I apologize for what he said. Sergeant Kane gets intense like that. Next time we stop by the Citadel I can set aside some time on our schedule for you to speak with him, one-on-one, if you'd like. Have a good day, ma'am. Shepard out."

EDI ended the call for him. The holographic interface circle dropped away, revealing that they were the only ones in the room. Sergeant Kane studied the projectors on the walls. He shook his head in wonder.

"Damndest technology I've ever seen," he muttered. "What a Warmaster could do with that."

"Well done," Shepard said, taking his attention back. He held out his hand, and the Cadian shook it with a devilish grin on his face. "I couldn't have asked for a better performance than that. You had her on her heels."

"It wasn't a performance," Kane muttered. His disgust at the sight of the asari still gleamed in his eyes. "Though I did make a point to hold back a touch. As much as I hate them, they do appear to hold a lot of cards. You never piss off the dealer unless you want to lose your shirt."

"A wise choice. I think we've given her something to think about," Shepard added. "EDI sent over a portion of the information taken from your dataslate. That, coupled with your own words, might have tipped her in our favor. With luck, she might even take you seriously in her discussions with the other Councilors."

"If you haven't done a better job convincing me that humanity is fracked without their help, I'd have been a bit more honest."

"What did you lie about?" Shepard frowned, trying to remember what he said and where his words had deviated from his stated beliefs.

"I hope the Reapers wipe them out regardless." Kane turned back towards a large bundle just beside the door. "Just came by to let you know Commissar Blake is sleeping. She took it all real hard and isn't feeling well. When she gets up she will likely request time at your cogitators."

"Computers."

"Right, same thing."

"What's that?" Shepard watched him pick up the bulky bag. Metal clanked against metal under the heavy fabric covering.

"I took the precaution of removing our weapons from the room while the Commissar slept. My own first awakening was rough. Hers will be worse."

"How do you know?"

"Because," Kane turned to give him a knowing look, "she's still a child and she thinks she needs to be our leader."

"I thought you said she was your leader."

"It was something to consider" he acknowledged. "But now that I have seen her off the battlefield, seen how she is responding, I will give some time before I cast final judgment. Her reactions so far have been extreme. If she cannot settle herself, I fear she might break."

"Break?" Shepard had a feeling he knew what the man meant. But he wanted to be sure.

"Meant she might take a dive off the cliff. Leave her mind at the spaceport. Pack her kit but forget the helmet."

"You think she might go crazy."

"If she hasn't already." Kane's expression soured. "Throne only knows why I haven't."

"Kane." Shepard stepped between him and the door. "Should I have Doctor Chakwas see to her?"

"No, I don't think that would help. Maybe send your fire-haired bundle of joy and giggles to speak to her. That might do some good."

"I thought you didn't like Kelly."

"Me, no, she's fine as long as she stays away," Kane said. "but Commissar Blake is still a young woman, no matter what the Schola conditioned her to be. A friendly young female might help ease her transition. I can't guarantee that she would be safe in the room alone with the Commissar, but it couldn't hurt to have Kelly tag along with her for some time."

"I will consider it. Thank you, Kane." Shepard patted his shoulder. "Thanks for everything."

"Careful, Shepard." Kane's smile showed no humor. "I might still make you regret bringing me onto your ship."

The Kasrkin stepped off, heading left towards the armory. Now that Mordin Solus had moved into the research laboratory the man took care to avoid the room. Handing the schematics over had not denoted a change in his attitude towards aliens. At heart he was still a xenophobe. Shepard smiled faintly at the man's departing back. He would come around in time.

"Blasted computer!" Zaeed shoved against the rim of the desk, sending his chair screeching back across the metal deck. One of the other occupants of the room, the dour-faced younger version of Miranda Lawson, cast him a suspicious look, then calmly went back to her work. She was a quiet one so far. Since the commotion in the medical bay she had remained in the Cadians' room. This was her first time out of the room. So far she had ignored any attempts to chat, which was fine by him. He had his own suspicions about those three. The young one was easy to read: eager to learn and open-minded. He had no idea what to make of the woman yet. She struck him as the kind of woman he needed to see in action before he could form an opinion.

And then there was the surly one, Kane.

The sergeant stood nearby, leaning against the wall with a disinterested expression on his face, sipping quietly on a canteen. The man had no great love for alcohol, or so Zaeed thought. He had caught a snippet from one of the crew that the burly soldier had downed a shot of ryncol without so much as a whiff. His tolerances were clearly strong. Perhaps he did not drink out of choice. Zaeed did not know what to make of that. The mercenary judged a lot of men by how they handled their drink. Usually those that abstained did so for one of two reasons: they were lightweights, or they had a very good reason to not get drunk. Clearly not the former.

Which made the sergeant even more of an enigma. Zaeed wanted to like the man. He was a damn good shooter and had a krogan's quads. If he spent a little less time moping about the place like someone had gutted his nana he could be the best warrior Zaeed had ever seen. His fancy laser rifle, or whatever the hell it was called, had one hell of a punch. Would have taken Jessie over it any day, but he was glad to not be on the receiving end of that monster.

Deciding that further time on the console would be wasted, he stood up and stepped away from the desk. Kane's half-closed eyes tracked him across the room, free hand tapping a silent rhythm against his side just over the butt of his pistol. Not aggressive, just wary. There was no denying the friction between the two. Kane had the snobby attitude that a lot of career soldiers held for mercenaries. That wasn't going to go away. Jacob Taylor had the same superior sneer when they spoke. Not that it mattered. They understood his role on the team and they appreciated the skill he brought to the table.

"What's eating you," he asked the sergeant. "You look like someone just shat on your lunch."

"The day you find me comfortable on this ship is the day you should be scared." Kane tipped his head. "Any idea how close we are to the target?"

"Bekenstein? Should be about a day out still." Zaeed chuckled. "You see everything as a mission, don't you?"

"Simpler that way."

"What, don't like complications?"

Kane's eyes showed no mirth. "Complications get people killed."

"Agreed. But this is a simple op." The mercenary scoffed. "Well, not really an op even. Just Commander Shepard and the thief. They go in, steal some object or another, then hightail it. All we have to do is provide cover if things go bad."

"How? The Commander wasn't too clear in that regard."

"The usual. Drop in the Kodiak and provide aerial support. Bring in the heavy weapons if things get too hot."

"Are we expecting that?"

"Who knows with Bekenstein." Zaeed shrugged. "I've heard of Hock. He's a powerful bastard, got a small army for security and a paranoia to match. They're attempting a heist in the middle of a gala that will have some of the worst characters in humanity attending. It will take a miracle for things to go smoothly."

"What kind of firepower does the Kodiak have?"

"Firepower? You must be joking. The Kodiak is a stealth and rapid deployment craft."

"So what are we providing fire with?"

"Our guns," Zaeed answered, surprised by his ignorance. "What else?"

"So your idea of aerial support is to prop open the doors and shoot with rifles…"

The female snorted in disgust. Apparently she had been listening in. She did not say anything though, just continued taking notes as she immersed herself in the Extranet console. The sergeant shared her dismissive response, but he kept any vocal response to himself.

"Not my favorite either," Zaeed said. "But it's what we've got. Unless you have an assault shuttle hidden somewhere in that room of yours…"

"Don't you have some sort of automatic weapon you can install into the hatch? Heavy stubber, autocannon?"

"What, like a machine gun?" Zaeed nodded thoughtfully. "I've seen it done before. That's something to bring up with the Commander though."

"I've been meaning to go see him," Kane muttered. He drained the last of his canteen and hooked it back into its pouch. "This team is shaping up to be one of the craziest I have ever seen. Xenos gunmen and scientists, ex-soldiers and mercenaries, thieves…"

"Whatever it takes to get the job done" Zaeed mused.

The man did not respond. Pushing off the wall, he strode over to stand behind the woman's chair. She turned her head to gaze up at him, face a blank mask.

"Sergeant?"

"You're picking this up fast," he told her. "It took me a while to get the hang of it."

"I scored Grade-Alpha on cogitator aptitude tests," she replied, returning her attention to the console. "In addition my class received an experimental photo-mnemonic implant. I learn quickly."

Zaeed shook his head in wonder as the two Cadians continued talking about things that quickly went over his head. He tried listening in to glean some information about them, but once they started on about priests and sisters and ogres he gave up. Neither looked up as he stepped out of the room and into the hall.

This was going to take some getting used to. This kind of mission went beyond his usual score, far beyond, but at least this Shepard character had a good eye for talent. Every member of the team had a place. If he had run with this crew in his younger days, the things they could have accomplished…

But that was moot now. Now they were sailing off to take on the Collectors themselves. The idea was ludicrous, and he would be first to admit he only took the job for the payout. Assuming they survived. Which at this point he thought highly unlikely.

The Collectors were a bad bunch. He had seen a couple before, one time when a bounty came up for batarian slavers. Turned out, the Collectors had posted it. He could still remember the chills those creatures gave him. They didn't talk, they didn't breathe. They just walked in, gathered the batarians, and walked out. Payment was moved straight to their cargo bay: a footlocker of uncut diamonds per man. Naturally, the wealth of the bounty exceeded most of the gang's senses, and he had to shoot his way off the ship once everything fell apart. Escaped with a single footlocker while the rest were incinerated when the ship's engines overloaded. Blasted salarian tech specialist.

He stepped into the elevator and pressed the fourth deck button. Before the doors closed Kane came around the corner and slipped inside. He looked at the glowing button in distaste.

"Was hoping you were going up."

"Too many people up there." Zaeed retreated to the back of the elevator and leaned into the corner. "I like it quieter."

"That's something we agree on," Kane muttered. He strode over to the far side, away from Zaeed. "So, I can imagine you've got some stories."

"So do you, I'd wager."

"I have my share," was his curt reply. Zaeed expected him to go back to brooding, but he continued speaking after a short pause. "Never fought with a group this small. I'm used to big operations, company-sized at least. This is a whole new warfare for me. You talk about big battles here and it's a couple hundred men, maybe. We called those skirmishes in our time. Hardly worth mentioning."

"Sounds like fun, your time."

The Cadian glanced over at him to confirm that he was joking. Man had a poor nose for humor.

"At least you have interesting targets to shoot at." Kane allowed a tightlipped smile. "It's nice to shoot at some new villains for a change."

"How do they compare to your old ones?"

"Psh, they're pushovers. Turians have armor, but they are overconfident. Salarians are fragile. Krogan are big and tough but make for easy targets."

The man's cockiness would have been grating if Zaeed hadn't watched him slaughter his way through hordes of mercenaries on Omega. He had the prowess to back up his words.

"You've faced worse, I take it."

"Lot worse. Orks hordes, Astartes squads, daemons."

"Demons?"

"Daemons." Kane's thin smile grew dark. "Those are a bitch to kill."

"I think I've heard it all now. Do they have horns, spade tails and wings?"

"Some," the Cadian conceded. "But daemons come in all forms. Some have a thousands eyes, a hundred arms, scales, fur, claws, slime… they come in forms more demented than man can imagine."

"That's pretty."

Kane grimaced. "Looking at them can drive a weak-minded soul to insanity. And that's before they get close enough to kill you."

"Seems like you have a lot of dangerous enemies."

"We do."

"Bet that makes the Collectors seem like a walk in the park."

"Wouldn't know. Haven't fought them yet."

"Yeah, no one has. The Collectors tend to bulldoze anyone that crosses them."

Kane stayed in the elevator as Zaeed stepped out. Looking back at the man, Zaeed waited to see if he had anything else.

"You haven't talked to the cuttlebone or the egghead yet, have you?"

"No."

"Are you going to?"

"Not if I can help it."

Somehow, the answer did not surprise Zaeed.

Orbit over Bekenstein

"Treads out in ten," Sergeant Kane announced as he strode into the room. Arietta glanced up at him, fingers stained with cleaning oil. Sliding the heavy spring back into place, she reassembled the weapon and set about collecting her gear. A clean rag appeared in her peripheral vision. Accepting the towel with a curt thank you, she wiped the oil from her hands. It wouldn't do to go into battle looking anything less than her best. Leaders were meant to be inspiring; they should be clean and neat as much as humanly possible. There was no excuse for her to go into this with dirty hands.

Trooper Brunson came rushing into the room. He hesitated on seeing Arietta standing in the middle of the room, her bare skin glistening with a faint sheen of sweat. Red rushed across his face and he hurriedly eased past her, eyes carefully averted. Before she could ask he began scrambling into his flak armor.

"Did their leader give you deployment orders?"

"Commander Shepard wants us ready to drop from the Kodiaks if they encounter trouble. This might be nothing more than a babysitting job."

The thought of going into battle on a non-Imperial craft made her nauseous. Swallowing the bile that rose in her throat, she used the still-white portion of the towel to wipe sweat from her stomach and neck. The abandoned rag landed on the table they had adapted as a workbench and she snatched up the pristine undershirt the ship's quartermaster had acquired for her. It fit snugly, perhaps a little too much for comfort, but that was infinitely preferable to fighting in just her overcoat and support bra. The image in her mind made her smile a little.

"I thought you'd be interested in something more combat heavy," Kane said. She shot him a surprised look, then realized he was studying her with professional interest. Apart from the few minutes they had spent fighting side by side in the trenches of Line Blue, she had no experience with the man. All she had to go off of was that he was Kasrkin. Kasrkin were fearless, loyal, unmatched killers. A more honed soldier did not exist in the Imperium. But they were human, not machines. And this particular Kasrkin was more human than she would have preferred. He was not as cautious with his gaze as the Trooper was. His eyes remained on her, teasing their way across the exposed skin of her stomach. She barely suppressed the shudder that wanted to rip across her spine. A Blank, she reminded herself. It was easy to not notice in the heat of battle. How did Trooper Brunson stand living so close to him? His nearness made her skin itch.

"Until I have proper armor, any combat I see will be short-lived."

The Kasrkin shrugged and tapped the foreign device on his back plate. "They can give you a shield generator for now. Better than nothing."

Arietta glared at the object. She had read up on this kinetic barrier technology. It appeared quite handy, given the primitive weaponry used by the current age's militaries. But it was not Imperial. It was not blessed. "You are wearing non-Mechanicus approved wargear, sergeant?"

"Mechanicus isn't here, ma'am. If you're going to sit around waiting for an approved replacement you're thirty-plus thousand years to go."

"Your lip does your uniform no credit." She huffed and began strapping on her greaves and bracers. "My faith in the Emperor of Man will serve as my shield."

"In my experience, the God-Emperor's a bit too busy running a galaxy to extend his hand to lowly soldiers."

She bristled, growing angry. "Sergeant Kane, your lack of faith disturbs me."

"Pragmatism. I've fought for a long time, ma'am, and I've seen what happens to those who think they have the God-Emperor's divine intervention. They get killed." Before she could voice an objection he held up a hand to silence her. "You are too damn important to lose. These kinetic barriers might not be acceptable for Mechanicus adepts, but then again they might get a coghead drooling lubricant. Either way, I know they aren't tools of the Archenemy; there is no reason to not use them."

She made her disagreement known with a toss of her head. "I will be fine without additional protection. And I have my rosarius."

The man fell silent. Arietta watched him out of the corner of her eye as she finished dressing. His gaze lingered on her, features stuck somewhere between practiced disinterest and grim approval. A touch of pride surged through her as she adjusted the fit of her coat and cap. It felt good to be back in uniform. Shoving her bolt pistol and power sword into their respective holders, she took a few cautious steps to ensure her balance remained nominal. It did. That satisfied her, but she collected the lascarbine just to be safe. She had precious few bolt rounds left.

"What can you tell me of the warriors of this time?"

"They are good shots."

The comment was a thinly-veiled attempt to make her rethink taking a shield generator. Shooting the man a chilly glare, she grabbed two spare power packs and slipped them into the pockets of her coat. She would show him. Experienced or not, the Kasrkin sergeant had an attitude and she did not appreciate it. Her rank gave her the authority to correct the man, but she knew better than to try that. The Kasrkin reputation remained just as strong in her mind as the first day she had seen one in the Schola. They respected her kind, but didn't take kindly to attempts at disciplining them. Commissariat students and Kasrkin students brawled quite a bit in their early years.

"Anything else," she asked, her teeth pressed together to muffle the irritation in her voice.

"Body shots. Don't waste your time trying to line up headshots. Their armor isn't designed to withstand lasfire. They trust their shields more than they should, so expect them to stand around like conscripts on their first day."

"These are the same shields you are telling me to use?" Her smirk died on her lips, killed by the paternal sigh that emanated from the man's lungs. She did not need to hear what he was about to say. Her reply had been childish, immature. The Kasrkin was giving her what she asked for: advice on how to kill the enemy. The last thing she needed to do was create a poor impression before the man. Once a Kasrkin formed an opinion, nothing in the galaxy could alter it. Changing the subject, she moved to the door and keyed the lock. It opened with a gratifying hiss of decompressing air, opening her world once again into the frightful halls of the alien ship.

She still had a hard time believing men had built this. It lacked the architectural heaviness of Imperial vessels. Everything was sleek, rounded, spartan. The air smelled of recycled oxygen doused with the faint lemony scent of scrubbers. Glowlamps ran in parallel along every path, bathing it all in too-bright light. The walls lacked ornamentation or imagery to inspire the mind. When Kane revealed that the ship didn't even have a chapel she could only shake her head at the foolish irreligiosity of these men. It scared her a little too, but she would never admit that. She could forgive herself for her initial reaction upon waking. The confusion of her surroundings more than warranted an extreme reaction. But from now on she had her head on her shoulders. She had to be perfect now, to make no mistakes. She had no time for fear.

The question that burned in her mind was how to do that in a realm of reality where everything she knew had been flipped on its head. Access to their information terminals had yielded impressive amounts of unrestricted data. None of it improved her mood. Humanity scrabbling for scraps from the alien-dominated Council, colonization by permit rather than conquest, an undermanned military too weak to patrol its own borders. That this Commander Shepard had to operate outside the Alliance boundaries to protect humanity horrified her. What sort of humanity had they found themselves in the midst of?

"Elevator's that way," Kane said from behind her. She nearly jumped with fright, his cold voice snapping so close she felt his breath tickling her neck. Following his directions, she led them to the elevator and they piled in. As unsettling as the Kasrkin was, she relaxed once the door shut. Kane was a consummate soldier. Rough around the edges of course, but he would not need any oversight once they engaged. Trooper Brunson was another matter. His face bore signs of anxiety and fear. This would not be his first firefight, but as a dedicated support soldier he dreaded being thrown back into the frontlines. Line Blue had come naturally, and there had been no choice but to stand and fight. Here though, after days of rest and recovery, the prospect of being thrown again into a combat zone unnerved him. Sweat dripped down his face and he breathed unevenly, trying vainly to quiet his breathing. The result was that he instead made random gasps for air. Cadian, maybe, but not a rifleman. Disappointing. She would have to keep a close eye on him.

"Trooper."

The sergeant beat her to addressing the younger soldier. Arietta cast a sidelong look at the Kasrkin, wishing she had some of his heavy armor to protect herself. It was easy to believe the legends of the Kasrkin when in the presence of one. So large, powerful, aggressive. So eager to kill the enemy. So capable of destroying everything that came before him.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"Put on your war face," Kane growled. "Or at least stop trying to asphyxiate yourself. We won't be deploying for at least a few hours. Commander Shepard merely wants us on standby while he's down there. So take a deep breath and calm down before you pass out in the elevator."

Thoroughly chastised, the soldier bobbed his head and relaxed a little. Arietta turned her attention to him. He was about her age, maybe two years older. She could understand the unease he felt in the face of a coming battle. Age and experience would weather away those fears. In time he would learn to rely on the God-Emperor with his whole heart. Until that day came she vowed to keep a close eye on the man. A little encouragement could be needed.

The whole team, minus the mysterious alien doctor she had not yet had the displeasure of meeting, had assembled. A tremor rippled through her body at the sight of the turian creature. The right side of its face had grueling scars running the length of it. Or, was it the left side that was scarred. Both were ugly and predatory. Savageness radiated from the creature's body, like a viper coiling to strike.

Her instinctive urge to draw the bolt pistol on her hip nearly overpowered her senses. It was vile, disgusting, xenos. The God-Emperor's honor demanded she smite the creature where it stood. Strong fingers wrapped around the grip of her lascarbine. A bubbling energy swept through her as the image formed in her head. The iron sight rising, trigger clicking back from two pounds of pressure, the brilliant flash of light, flesh and bone exploding in a glorious cloud of superheated gas and gore. It would be a glorious kill.

Sergeant Kane's hand locked around her wrist, capturing her attention. He gave the slightest shake of his head in warning. The anger bled from her thoughts. Of course, as he had explained, they had to restrain their natural inclinations. Their stay in this time would be cut very short if she attempted to follow the rigid belief system they all knew so well. A single shot like the one she had pictured could turn this crowded cargo bay into a slaughterhouse.

The sight of the alien standing so close with rifle in hand made her realize just how vulnerable she was without her armor. It was not a creature she would like to test her skill against. The turian carried itself like a veteran warrior. It would be a worthy enemy when the day of reckoning came.

She felt no twinge of embarrassment, no hint of shame, at the route her thoughts had taken. It was righteous and good of her to think such a way. This was a test of her loyalty, her faith in a trying time. Arietta promised herself that she would never let herself fall into the trap of decadent complacency.

"Commander Shepard." Ignoring the others and the bemused looks that followed her, she strode directly up to the ship's captain and reported in. Protocol demanded. "My men are assembled and awaiting your orders."

The ship commander looked down at her, one eyebrow cocked to show his amusement at such a formal greeting. Did these savages not observe basic greetings between officers?

"Good morning, Miss Blake. You're up and recovering?"

"I am, Commander."

"You don't have to use my rank, Miss Blake. Shepard is fine."

"With respect, sir, I prefer rank." Her irritation must have shown in her eyes, because the man's face quirked towards a frown. He didn't like her attitude, she knew that much. And she didn't care. Theirs did not have to be a cordial relationship, just a working one.

"Okay then. Everyone's here now, so I'll get this started." He got everyone's attention as he strode back a few steps to get some space. The others crowded around to listen. She took stock of the others while the Commander cleared his throat. They were an odd bunch to be sure. No regular soldiers that she could see. No visible patterns in their armor or weapons. Everyone wore their own gear, like this was an irregular outfit and not a military vessel. At least she could tell who worked for this Cerberus organization and who did not. The Cerberus people were the humans.

"So this should be an easy job," Shepard said. He cracked a little grin, and some of the human crew chuckled. Apparently there was history behind that phrase with them. Then again, how many times had she heard the tales from Guardsmen about 'easy jobs' going south? The 94th had been an 'easy job.'

"Miss Goto and I will be attending Donovan Hock's gala alone. Once inside we will work some magic, recover the object in question, and if all goes well, walk out the front doors. That being said, we both agree that a little backup would be good in this instance." He gestured towards the transport shuttles. "I want a team on standby in case we have to shoot our way out. Hawthorne will be pilot; Kane, Garrus, and Zaeed will provide overwatch; everyone else will provide ground support. Joker will be monitoring the standard OS frequency and will relay if we need you. Any questions?"

"OS frequency," Arietta muttered, trying to decipher the meaning.

"Oh Shit," Kane replied, nudging her just slightly so she paid attention to his words. "Their emergency channel."

"I knew that" she snapped, heat rising.

"Just making sure."

Shepard and the woman in question, a skinny thing wearing dark form-fitting clothing with a thick hood that cast shadows across her face, stood by their craft. They both wore clothing that would have fit well at a governor's party, which was the point, she reminded herself. This was a different sort of battlefield, the sort where words were as deadly as a lasgun. She knew she should not feel envious, but she did. Watching the two climb aboard the small shuttle that would take them down left a pleasantly sick weight in her stomach. She missed those days, few as they had been. It was impure of her to dwell on the days between her graduation and her assignment. Her thoughts ought to lay on more important matters, such as knowing the faces of those she might soon have to rely on in combat.

Waving down her soldiers, she detached herself from the group and strode over to the one who caught her interest the most. The woman who could have been her older sister studied her with a cold gaze that struck her as eerily similar to her own. She was well aware that the others in the bay grew quiet as she approached the woman. Most every set of eyes switched back and forth between the two, all thinking the same thing. How? How could two women from different times share so much in appearance?

She had to struggle to hide the trembling that wanted to shake her body as she extended a hand to the woman. Those icy blue eyes reflected her doubts, her anger, her hope, as if the woman was little more than a mirror of herself. A very quiet, very dark, voice in her head continued to whisper the words she had struggled with since waking.

Accept. Embrace.