"Two-Sierra zero-zero-nine's Augmentation procedures will commence in thirty minutes. Is there anything you wish to point out before we start, Miss Sunfield?"
"Yes, I am rather curious about the process of the surgery. All the SPARTAN-II augmentations are included, aren't they?"
"Yes ma'am, they are."
"How are you so certain that the subject will survive the surgery at this age? There is no guarantee that her body-"
"Two reasons ma'am. We have achieved some key developments in the area of bio-augmentations. The wash-out rate is lower than ten percent. Also, nine has proven to be exceptionally hardy. She won't give up that easily.
"I see. Be careful and wish her luck."
Conversation between Mental health Specialist Jennifer Sunfield and anonymous chief scientist member, 2542
~0~
The Master Chief watched silently as the various crewmembers filed in and out of the dark remains of the Forward Unto Dawn, working quickly and efficiently to move all the assorted weapons back to the Commander's vessel. Not a single one of them managed to ignore him when they walked past him, glancing at him from underneath their vacuum-protective masks with the same glances he had come to associate with civilians and noncombatants.
"You know," Cortana chimed in when he watched the seventh batch of crewmembers bring in their latest haul, "you could just ignore them and visit the ship."
"These are UNSC assets," The Chief replied. If anyone had to know about the importance of keeping UNSC technology clandestine in the face of new and potentially hostile alien lifeforms, it was her.
"Yeah, about that…you offered your assistance to this Commander. Did you ever stop to think what would come after that? This isn't the UNSC."
"I know." Now that he had had the time to calm down and just think, it became clear to him that he might have woken up in a difficult situation. Escalating hostilities aside, there was multiple military organizations in play that had nothing to do with the UNSC. There was too much for him to make sense of at once. Too much information he could not handle yet.
Aliens. Not Covenant. Humanoid. Too many variables.
Commander Jane Shepard. She spoke his language, but also the aliens'. She claimed to be on his side, yet her crew consisted of aliens. Her weapons were kinetic in nature, but not UNSC.
Systems Alliance. Possible segregation of Insurrectionists? If so, she was a threat. But she was his only chance out of this situation. She had a ship, she was a human. She had risked her life for him and she could get him back to the UNSC. If this turned out to be a trap, he could neutralize her.
"We don't have an alternative," he told Cortana. "Only to clear the Commander's ship and have you interface."
He didn't need to tell Cortana that there had been enough human deaths in the war. Johnson's death was still fresh on his mind. Another weight pressing down on his shoulder. No more bloodshed unless it was absolutely necessary.
Cortana sighed, but the Chief wasn't sure if she was amused or frustrated. "Well, it's not like they can salvage anything from this dump. I wiped all the data after we went through the portal. Unless you don't like aliens leaving smeary fingerprints on your rifles?"
Ignoring her comment, the Chief said, "Did you ever hear of the Systems Alliance?"
"No. It has to be a prominent organization, seeing how the Commander and those aliens knew each other. How odd that she never heard of the UNSC…assuming for a moment she spoke the truth, that means she must have never heard of the Covenant as well."
The Spartan hadn't even thought about that; if Shepard didn't know the UNSC, she also didn't know the war. Nor the Covenant. This couldn't be a splinter organization either, then. That left only two alternatives, neither of which were promising. Either Commander Shepard was lying to him, which automatically meant she had secondary objectives, or she came from a planet where nobody had ever heard of the Human-Covenant war. And with a rank like that, it was highly unlikely that she assumed her position after the war. Any military leader had to know their history and if the Commander dint know about the war…she must be from outside.
How could a human be from outside the war? That didn't make any sense. None of this made any sense.
The Chief felt a hint of frustration at his current situation. New aliens, new hostiles, a complete new environment. For all he knew, he was surrounded by an enemy strike force. And the Commander was the key to all of this. She was lying, or she had grown up outside the UNSC colonies. And that was only possible through a gap in space, or a gap in time.
He had to know -no, he needed to know how much time had passed. It was the only way to make sense out of this. "Cortana?"
"Yes, John?"
"Can you make a guess? What date is it? How long did the cryo last?"
"That…" Hesitation? "…I can't say for sure. Going through the portal fried pretty much every piece of tech on the Dawn. There isn't anything I can use to measure the relative amount of time that went by, nor the changes of age of the Dawn's materials."
He trusted her word on that, but he didn't like how she brushed off the issue without thinking of actual solutions. Maybe she was recovering from having been brusquely removed from the systems. I
A contact popped up on his motion tracker and he glanced over his shoulder with the slightest of turn, making it appear as if he hadn't moved at all.
It was the Commander, oddly enough. Shouldn't she be back with her crew?
"Chief," she greeted him when she was close enough, still wearing that red-grey armour.
What does she want? "Commander," he curtly replied.
"I wanted to show you your quarters aboard the Normandy."
The Chief frowned at that. He had no need for his own quarters; a simple spot in the barracks would suffice. "Did your crew salvage the gear?"
There was a noticeable pause before Shepard replied. "Not all of it. I've seen some of the ammo your guns use. I think Jacob might be able to make more, if he gets some examples. How much do you need?"
Jacob. Another human name. The quartermaster? If he was going to assist the Commander on her mission to 'protect mankind', as she put it, he was going to need multiple weapon platforms. Even if ammo wasn't a problem, he was not going to risk a malfunction that would leave him without functioning weapons. "Unless creating replications of the weapons is a possibility, I do not want to risk it. We should take as much as we can take." It wasn't as if someone else was going to need the ordnance now.
"Right. Suit yourself then. At any rate, I've got some questions I'm gonna need answered soon, so if you don't mind…?"
The Chief quickly picked up on the unspoken question and replied, "Classified information will remain clandestine."
"If only they could say the same," Cortana joked. Or at least, he thought it was a joke.
"Of course. You don't have to answer anything you don't want to, as long as it doesn't put the team in danger," Shepard told him and turned around, back to the airlock. "Coming?"
After a split-second of hesitation, the Chief walked after her. Her crewmembers had been taking dropships back and forth between the Dawn and the Normandy to transport the various weapons and pieces of equipment he needed, so it made sense that she had come with a dropship as well. A Commander serving directly with her troops? Intriguing.
"She seems nice," Cortana chimed in, much to the Chief´s surprise.
"How so?"
"She's not directly trying to kill us, for instance. That would qualify as nice."
That didn't have to mean anything, but he understood what Cortana meant.
"In the meantime, I am calibrating your suit and scanning for any malfunctions that might have been caused by the premature thawing. Your vital signs have stabilized somewhat, but not fully. I recommend you take some rest and ignore any headaches that might or might not be the side-effect of the recalibrations."
It felt good to have her at his side again, but her presence also made him feel somewhat uneasy. Throughout the nonstop fighting on Earth and on the Ark, he had been experiencing what could only be described as hallucinations. Vivid, auditory and visual hallucinations. Of her, of the Gravemind. Both. The worry she expressed about the premature thaw was bad enough. It wouldn't do to have her distracted by that. Best to keep it to himself.
The Commander was waiting for him at the dropship, which looked and was shaped like a flying brick. Crude, not at all aerodynamic. It appeared unarmed and was only half the size of a Pelican dropship. The bright, blue tint didn't do much to justify its design either.
He had never seen this design before. Whatever organization this Systems Alliance was, it had developed spacefaring technology that really had nothing to do with the UNSC. Even the Insurrection used tech derived from the military.
The Commander wasn't alone. She stood together with that same alien as before. It stood over six feet tall, but its appearance was also humanoid. Nothing Covenant about him. His nonreflective helmet turned towards the Chief before quickly moving back to the hallway.
The alien stood close. In the cramped quarters of the dropship, much too close. Its presence triggered the Chief´s instinct badly, and he had to constantly suppress the urge to kill it. It had helped them during the fight, it had the trust of the Commander.
It was a threat. As such, the Chief never took his eyes off of it. How? How was it possible that humans were working with aliens? The Elites were one thing, but these things he had never seen before. It looked like the creatures in the alien strike group he had eliminated back in that other vessel, on his search for Cortana. So what was the situation with his species? Were they friendly to these humans or was this individual just an isolated case?
"I am detecting various signals coming from the inside of this vessel, as well as outside of it. In addition, the Commander and the life form both seem to carry wrist-mounted computers, exuding rudimentary signals as well. Hmm…interesting."
Wrist-mounted computers? Like the TACPAD design?
"So Chief," Shepard asked him, still through the comm channel. "How come you speak my language, but not anyone else's? As far as I know, it's a human language."
"That's an extraordinary notion," Cortana immediately remarked. "A human who has not grown up within the Unified Earth Government system, capable of speaking the exact language that most UNSC personnel speaks? That's a puzzler. Chief, I advise that you let me work on this, while you find a data record onboard the Normandy. From there, I might be able to access the ship's files."
"Copy that." Letting Cortana figure this out was a better option than getting distracted with it himself. There were more urgent matters he had to focus on anyway. To Shepard, he said, "Unclear."
"Uhh…right."
If she didn't believe him, she didn't show. Good; there were other things he wanted to know. "Commander." With Cortana concentrating on the conundrum of non-UNSC humans living with aliens, there was only one thing that he had to know. "Who are the Collectors?"
Shepard grunted before replying. "How new are you to the Citadel community?"
"Citadel?"
"Right then. Ehm…the Citadel…yeah. How far has your civilization come in this galaxy?"
"Curious. Shepard doesn't seem to have realized that you're a human. That explains a certain level of her communication…judging from that communication, she must assume we belong to a newly-evolved species."
He got that already. Assuming that the Dawn was still in the Milky Way galaxy, mankind had not colonized outside the Orion arm. So had they ended up outside the Orion arm? "Not far." The truth about the war and the Covenant would only make this more difficult.
Both the Commander as the alien suddenly braced themselves. The Chief, mimicking their movement, reached the conclusion that they must have reached the Normandy, mere seconds before the dropship lurched to a sudden halt and sent the alien stumbling forwards.
"Well, it's a complicated story," Shepard said as the hatch of the ship opened up, revealing a large, open room with scattered crates in the middle and several other dropships mounted at the side, ready to be launched. What looked like an observation deck had been built on the other of the room, a few meters above the ground. Was this the hangar bay? "Really complicated."
Most of the crewmen had already left, through a few were still hauling crates with supplies from the other dropships. The alien said something to Shepard and then walked straight towards the door at the other end of what the Chief assumed to be the hangar bay, leaving them on their own.
Shepard crossed her arms and leant back against one of the larger crates. Then, she reached for her helmet and took it off.
There was no denying it now. She was human. Her skin was light, but not unhealthily so. Strands of blood-red hair brushed past her high cheek-bones when she ran a hand through her hair, which didn't reach past her jawline. Though her face could be deemed 'pretty', it was her eyes that got the Chief's attention. They were bright and green, just like Linda's.
Actually, she looked a lot like Linda. Only on the outside though. Her hair, her eyes…not her stance or composure. She was definitely a soldier, but she carried herself with an air of command, a sense of purpose.
She glanced at him, as if waiting. "You can take your helmet off, too."
Ah. "I'll pass."
Shepard raised an eyebrow, but did not comment otherwise on that. "Fine. Alright…the galaxy is a big place, Chief. And not everybody is friendly. By now, I 'm sure you got that notion."
The Master Chief believed that the notion was currently covering his armour with patches of purple and blue. "Affirmative."
"A long time ago, some of the ehm…the earlier alien species found a massive space station built by an advanced, extinct civilization called the 'Protheans."
"Note to self. Protheans equal Forerunners in this section of space. Beware of fanatical alien extremists, alright?
The Chief resisted the urge to slap the side of his helmet. Jokes about the Covenant were the last thing he needed right now.
Shepard, completely unaware of Cortana's reflections, continued undisturbed. "They are the Salarians, Turians and Asari, two of which you have encountered today." She paused. "And killed, I suppose. They called it the 'Citadel' and quickly made it their home."
"Their home?" the Chief asked. That sounded an awful lot like the Ark. But he would have encountered those aliens on the Ark, if they had been there. Unless these aliens were just the Covenant races with different names. But how could Shepard not know the UNSC and still know the Covenant races? Cortana said she would focus on that paradox, but he just couldn't imagine how this was possible.
Shepard nodded and the corners of her mouth pulled up in a sly smile. "The political, cultural and financial capital of the galactic community. Most other, newer species even maintain embassies on the Citadel."
A galactic, diplomatic organization that was centered around this one space station? That was the most strategically inept idea he had heard in years. It only took one attack on this station to cripple not only their leadership, but also their economy. It did not bode well for whatever alien leaders were ruling this community. "Is your species a part of this community as well?"
"Humanity joined the Citadel, yes. Unfortunately, things aren't that simple."
Of course. They never were. How had the UNSC never encountered this hub of alien species? It really sounded a lot like the Covenant on the Ark, or even High Charity. It wasn't possible, but it was still an odd thought. "You said something was threatening mankind. The Collectors."
Shepard sighed and her air of confidence and authority faded somewhat. "Yeah…that's the thing. I know this sounds crazy, and I won't blame you for not believing, but the galaxy is stuck in a cycle of extinctions."
"That sounds ominous. Do you think she means the Halo Installations?"
"Every fifty-thousand years, a species of incredibly-advanced machines invades the worlds of sufficiently-advanced species and slaughter them. No warning, nobody to explain. One day, they just drop out of the sky. We call them the Reapers."
"Oh…so not the Halo Array. That's a problem."
Not the Halo Array. That sounded a lot like the Covenant, actually. Had Shepard encountered the species of the Covenant and given them a different name? The Reapers? If so, what was this thing about the machines and the cycle? This wasn't making any sense.
Shepard was looking too grim to be lying to him. There were subtle signals in her body that this subject troubled her greatly, which she wasn't able to mask properly The pulling of the muscles in her jawline, the slight grimace on her face.
Machines…machines…not Forerunner, not Covenant. Not the Flood. What was she talking about? Who was humanity fighting and why?
"The Reapers," said the Chief. "So the Citadel went to war?"
Shepard uttered a short, bitter laugh. 'War? No. They refused to see the evidence."
What?
"After everything that happened, they denied the Reapers' existence." She sighed again, dropping some of that highly-visible tension. "I suppose this is a lot to take in. I just wanted you to know who you were going to face, fighting on our side. The Reapers threaten everyone, Chief. The Collectors are just their attack dogs. But they have a nasty bite."
"When is the next operation?" asked the Spartan. If Shepard was telling the truth, these Reapers and Collectors were a threat to the UNSC as well. A threat more distinct than the Covenant had to be at this very moment. The last he had seen of the Covenant, it had been disbanded at the death of Truth. The Elites had been fighting at humanity's side.
He had to see it with his own eyes, he supposed.
Shepard smirked. "I like your attitude. But, I think you still need to get used to living on this ship. You can meet the rest of the crew, or visit the armory if you want to check up on your weapons. Guess you can grab some food while you're at it-" she suddenly paused and her smirk disappeared. "Ooh…yeah. Food. That's ah…a problem. What does your kind need? For sustenance, I mean. Hell, is this air safe to breathe for you?"
Her worries were justified, but ultimately needless. But simply telling her that he was human would cause more problems than it would solve. The solution lay in his silence.
Shepard stared at him for a few seconds and, when it became clear that he wasn't going to provide her with an answer, she continued. "Because, in Citadel space, we have species based on lev-amino acids and dextro-amino acids. But if they consume each other's food, that will cause a severe allergic reaction." She paused. "Which will result in death, I guess. Ring a bell?"
John wasn't able to focus on Shepard's entire story, because Cortana dropped in halfway through and started holding a science lecture. "Hold on, that makes no sense. The only difference between levo and dextro is their chirality and that does not cause any death-related problems. Sure, all amino acids are left-handed, disregarding some micro-organisms, but what about sugars? They are right-handed. Dextro-based right-handed. If you were to consume Spartan-sized meals of dextro-based alien food, your body would simply break it down to levo-based proteins. Whoever came up with this got themselves a major artistic license in biology. Chemistry as well."
While he could disregard a lot of her technical slang, the basic gist of it was that Shepard's proposal wouldn't harm him. Of course, Cortana's definition of harmless was a bit different from his. He wasn't willing to put it to the test.
"A basic form of sustenance will do," he eventually told Shepard. "And an oxygen-based environment will do fine. Ma'am."
Shepard crossed her arms. "Uh-huh? Right then. You still need an oxygen-based environment to actually live in. A war isn't fought in days, or even weeks. I'm sure you know that."
The Master Chief did not need to be told that. "I do."
"Good. Then let's find you a place to stay. I'm sure we've got room…somewhere."
"Actually, I like this place."
The Chief recognized that voice. Cortana sounded like that whenever she found something that could keep her occupied for a few minutes. "You do?"
"Yes. It's large and open, while distant enough to offer the rest of the crew no reason to drop by."
"And?"
"And I guess there are some interesting ports I could interface with."
There it was.
The Chief didn´t have any reason to decline that suggestion. And not just because her logic was solid, either. "Commander. The space in this hangar bay will do."
"I put together several arguments you can use to increase the odds of permission by seventy-three percent. It might even be eighty-three percent, if you ask her nicely."
As it turned out, there was no need for him to ask nicely. He didn't even need to use Cortana's arguments. Shepard considered his idea for exactly one point seven seconds before she shrugged. "Sure."
Her response actually took the Chief aback somewhat. He settled for silently nodding, mostly because he wasn't one to second-guess an officer's motives, but also because he was rapidly growing tired of all this talking. His throat was aching and throbbing, worse than normal. Most likely a side-effect of the premature awakening.
"Sure, why not," Shepard then repeated, turning away from the Chief and glancing at the elevator at the end of the hangar bay. "The Main Battery room is fine…the Life Support room is fine…why not the hangar bay too?"
"If it is…inconvenient…" the Chief started, bur Shepard shook her head.
"Nah, it's fine. You'll find this outfit to be a somewhat…unconventional one. Get some rest, gather your things, report to doctor Chakwas if you feel you sustained any injuries." She turned back to face him and this time, she offered him another genuine smile. "Welcome aboard the team, Chief."
With that formal greeting out of the way, the Commander left, leaving the Spartan to wonder what he had gotten himself involved with. It was a military vessel for sure, but…everything was off. Even Shepard sounded a bit…wrong. It wasn't just her completely foreign accent, or the way she acted around him. It was something else, and he couldn't quite grasp what it was.
"What do you think she means with an unconventional outfit?" Cortana asked him as soon as Shepard had left.
John didn't know. In the past, unconventional warfare meant guerilla fights, training local militia. No regular armies. So did that classify the Commander and her crew as Special Forces? "She had aliens in her group. She could have meant that."
"Could be. Still working on the thinking. Find me a port and I will see what I can find on our new friends. You do your thing and try to get settled in."
Settled in a military ship to work with aliens to fight a new threat to mankind, without knowing when or where he was? "I'm on it."
~0~
For Commander Shepard, it was never fully certain when a new problem would arise. It was impossible for things to go completely according to plan when you worked with Cerberus, and the next problem was always just around the corner with a volatile and atypical crew like this. So when she had managed to finally get the newest addition to her team all settled in in a place where he wouldn't be disturbed for the coming days, she wasn't really surprised when the next problem raised its head.
"Commander, Miranda would like to speak with you," Kelly Chambers informed her right as she stepped up to the galaxy map to plot her next course.
Shepard nodded. "Thanks Kelly. I'm on it."
On a mission where death could be seen as an almost-certain outcome, it was imperative that everybody trusted each other. If this team was going to have any chance at beating the Collectors, Shepard had to be sure that she could put her life in the hands of each and every one of them. Chief included, Miranda included. With that in mind, she made her way towards the Crew Quarters, were Operative Lawson was sitting in her office, waiting.
"Commander," she greeted. "I take it your mission on the derelict was a success?"
Jane crossed her arms and gave Miranda a look. Since when did Miranda call het just to ask her that? Fine. She could play along. "It was. Samara took some hits, but she'll be alright. Mordin has some uncanny experience with Asari physiology."
"Good to hear," Miranda said, not at all looking like this was a good thing. "I wanted to talk to you about your -our- latest addition."
"Go ahead," the Commander replied. Even Grunt would get suspicious right about now, had he been here.
"This…Chief, as he calls himself…do you think it is safe to keep him here?"
Shepard fought off the urge to shoot Miranda's claim down immediately and settled for merely sighing. "Not any safer than keeping Jack or Grunt on the Normandy. What's your point?"
The Operative got up and turned to face the large window in the office. "None of the individuals we recruited for this operation actually managed to hurt one of our crewmembers, let alone incapacitate one. And any being that can defeat a Justicar in single combat needs some serious evaluations. Are you certain that this…Chief…won't endanger our goals?"
"That's not the case." As well-intentioned as Miranda was, she hadn't seen the Chief fight. And she hadn't been there when Saren had nearly plunged the galaxy into annihilation. The things that the rogue Spectre had unleashed had every possibility of becoming a nightmare for every species currently living their lives in 'peace'.
"I read the report, Shepard," Miranda continued. "How many Asari Commandoes did he kill? How many official Council soldiers? The Asari wouldn't like it if they found out, let alone the Turians."
"The Council," Shepard replied, starting to feel somewhat agitated, "has no jurisdiction in the Terminus Systems. Any and all personnel who died at his hands, while tragic, cannot be seen as an incentive for a diplomatic incident."
"Their lack of jurisdiction didn't stop the Turians from attacking Shanxi," the Operative was quick to point out. "Nor did it stop the Salarians with the Krogans. The Illusive Man didn't find out who those Commandoes were working with and what they wanted, but their deaths will raise questions, no matter where they died. Or how, for that matter."
"Then the Illusive Man will deal with those questions. The Chief acted in self-defense. Even if his actions were wrong, his species cannot be held responsible."
Lawson turned to face the Commander again, an odd expression on her face. "You misunderstand me, Shepard. I am not worried about the political consequences his species might face. It is the consequences that the Normandy might face. The Chief proved himself to be highly-dangerous. What do we even know about him? His species? He might endanger us all, Shepard."
"That all?"
Miranda nodded. "Just wanted to state my professional opinion, Commander."
Shepard glanced at the biotic, not sure what to think. Miranda was opening up a lot lately, more than she had expected at the start of all this, but she was still too…obstructive. Too buddy-buddy with the Tim. "Miranda, with the Krogan in the cargo hold and the mass-murdering convict in engineering, I don't think that the Chief will be a danger to us. He needs us as much as we need him. Now I don't care if Thane is an assassin, or that Zaeed helped found the Blue Suns. All I care about is that they can be trusted and that they can kick copious amounts of ass. And believe me, taking on half a dozen Asari commandoes at once and winning without so much as a scratch? The Chief certainly does fit the latter."
Miranda's eyes widened at that remark. "Seriously? No injuries at all?"
To see the normally-composed Lawson lose her perpetual slightly-amused pokerface was something that never failed to amuse Jane, and she found herself grinning. "Oh, he was injured alright. Before the encounter started. "
Shock turned to skepticism. "Wounded and still winning a perfect victory? I have to second-guess that."
The Commander shrugged. "Second-guess all you want. Was that all, Miranda?"
"Actually, there is…something I need to ask you. I don't like discussing personal matters, but this is important."
Skepticism turned to a form of sadness that was both uncharacteristic as worrying, and Shepard immediately understood that this had to be serious. "Miranda, you're one of my crew. Tell me what's wrong."
Miranda sighed and looked away. "My father was extremely wealthy. He wanted the ideal daughter, and he paid a great deal to…genetically tailor me. When I learned that my father was more interested in controlling a dynasty than raising a daughter though, I left."
That couldn't have ended peacefully. "How did your father take that?" asked Shepard.
Miranda shook her head and told the Commander that it wasn't about her, but about her sister. That particular tidbit greatly surprised her, as she hadn't thought Miranda Lawson to be the sibling-type.
Her sister who was living safely on the Asari garden world Illium, where her father was now trying to hunt her down to get her back. And now, unable to keep her sister hidden from her father anymore, she was out of options.
So, Cerberus was going to move her sister. Such VIP extractions were often the ideal moment for bad guys to strike, and the moment Miranda mentioned such a movement, Shepard immediately draw her conclusions. This was going to turn into a firefight, and Miranda knew it.
"My contact's name is Lanteia," the visibly-distraught Operative said. She'll be waiting for us in the lounge near the Nos Astra docking bay."
"Suit up then," replied Shepard. "I'm setting a course for Illium."
"Thank you, Shepard," Miranda stated before returning her focus back to her terminal. Even though she tried to act as a stone-cold Cerberus agent, putting her mission and objectives before her own feelings, the Commander could tell that this was very important to her. Good; that made it easier for her to trust the woman in the future.
Now that she had recruited all the possible teammates that the Illusive Man had forwarded to her, it was about time to start strengthen the team integrity and make sure that everybody was as ready -and loyal- as possible. She couldn't afford to have Miranda distracted by this and, more importantly, she couldn't afford to let this sister be abducted by their father.
People should never have their freedom taken from them.
But, Jane mused as she made her way towards the galaxy map to plot the Normandy's next course, who should she take with her?
Almost immediately, her thoughts traveled towards the giant soldier in her hangar bay. Strong, fast, completely alien. She had only been there for half his fight, but he had still displayed a vast and impressive set of skills. Even when abducted from his ship by scientists and soldiers, surrounded and alone, he had escaped and promptly forged himself a way to go on the offensive. Potentially creating a diplomatic incident, but still. That was impressive.
Hmm…Miranda's fighting style was based on staying light on her feet and breaking the enemy's defense with a variety of biotic and tech abilities. The Chief seemed to fight using his brute force and lightning reflexes, bringing large amounts of firepower to bear on the exact right moment.
Some pretty large amounts of firepower. Shepard had checked one of his pistols in the armoury, supervised by Jacob. Those things were impressive. Remarkably large, even when compared to her Carnifex, and filled with rounds that could easily fit into a rifle as well. It made her wonder what the hell kind of enemies these people had been fighting to build such weapons?
Anyway, the Chief seemed like a good complementary unit for this op. He still needed an Omni-tool with translation software to be able to actually work with the team, but she could easily outfit him with one. She just needed to know his size. And his knowledge of computers, she supposed.
Well, first things first. She made her way towards the galaxy map and set a source for the Crescent Nebula, Illium. It would them a while to get there, fifteen hours or so. Plenty of time for both Miranda and the Chief to get ready.
And plenty of time for her to figure out what to do next. If there was an entire species of him waiting somewhere around, it was just a matter of time before the Citadel Council would detect them. After all, if they were a spacefaring species capable of building such large, military vessels, that meant they were already colonizing. It was only a matter of time before they found Element Zero and discover the intergalactic community waiting for them.
Shepard couldn't suppress a smirk when she thought about the Turians responding to the Chief's species like they had at Shanxi. Hell, if it had been them at First Contact War instead of mankind. Now that would have probably gone differently.
Well, perhaps not. She didn't know how many of them were alive right now, or what other military assets they had.
Perhaps she could ask the Chief about it in the future? If they actually pulled this off and defeated the Collectors, it would be one hell of a bridge between humanity and his people.
Well, until then, she had others things to ask him. "Chief? You read me?" She didn't know how he had even managed to pick up on her comm's channel back in the derelict, but if his communication software was advanced enough to pick up military signals, that was good enough for her.
"I read you, Commander." his rough, gravelly voice delivered his reply with barely any delay.
"We've got a new mission. Drop by the armoury to get geared up and meet me in fifteen hours."
"Copy that."
Shepard could appreciate a good no-nonsense attitude. Now she just had to send Jacob the word that he needed to prep an omni-tool large enough to fit a Krogan. That shouldn't be too much of a problem.
She hoped.
~0~
Assault rifle intact, safety clicked on. Magazine loaded, cartridges intact. Insert, pull pin, check round. Rifle loaded. Moving on to sidearm.
The Chief quickly worked through the basics of his rifle, taking it apart and reassembling it with practiced ease. Still he wasn't quite up to speed though.
"Point four seconds longer than your average."
Frowning, the Spartan stopped disassembling his pistol and placed the pieces on the ground beside him. "How long do you think this will last?"
"Unclear. Technically, you shouldn't have been walking back on that science vessel. There are absolutely no records in the database of someone removing themselves from cryo, so the data is somewhat lacking." Cortana's answer was quick and to the point, but not completely satisfying. "It could be a week. Knowing you, it'll be over in a day."
Good. He wanted to be as sharp as possible, especially onboard a military vessel with potentially hostile aliens. "Acknowledged. How is your research?"
The Chief could nearly feel Cortana smirk through the neural interface. "Wonderful. This ship -the Normandy they call it- has a wealth of information that should prove invaluable in finding out where and when we ended up. There is another AI in the system though, so I can't just plunder it all. Yet."
Another AI? That was alarming news. "Is it a threat?"
"It didn't notice my incursion yet. I'm sticking with basic movements, otherwise it'll catch up. Still, a few copies here and there won't alarm anyone. I can bring you up to speed, if you want?"
The Chief scooped up the parts of his pistol and started assembling it again. "Do it."
"Shepard was honest. There really is a galactic community of alien species, outside the Covenant and working together. Curious…there are mentions to Earth and an alternate calendar. First Contact…seems the Turians weren't always the good guys. Right. This community seems ruled by three major species. Two of them you already figured out how to kill, the third can't be difficult."
Reassuing.
"First we have a species called the Turians. Your pal onboard that shuttle is one of them. Militant, avian according to our phylogenetic tree of life, involved in a small war with humanity at their first contact. Nothing too special here."
The Chief wasn't so sure about that. How could an alien race that had warred with humanity be trusted at all? No matter how long the conflict had been, if there had been casualties, they couldn't be trusted. "First contact."
"It's odd that there are no such records in the history of your mankind."
"Our mankind," John asserted.
Cortana ignored him. "Doesn't change the fact that none of the details found can in any way be traced back to the history of the UNSC. Moving on, we have the Asari. Now these are a bit special."
"The female humanoids?"
"Monogendered humanoids, Chief. If the Turians represent this Citadel's military, the Asari are their politicians. They do resemble our basic biology, if weaker, but their biotics set them apart."
"Biotics?"
"Not to be confused with antibiotics. These individuals manifest a rare ability to…break the rules of physics."
The Chief raised an eyebrow at that. "That's new."
"And I don't like one bit of it. It involves a new particle called 'Element Zero' which, I might add, does not make any form of sense. Any element that has zero mass would be considered-"
"Cortana, the Asari?"
The AI gave her equivelant of a sigh. "I'll figure it out on my own. The Asari have biotic potential, all of them. They also have a lifespan considerably greater than the average human's. Our soldiers won't be getting much older than two centuries, but these Asari can live up to a millennium. Which brings us to the issue of fighting them. The individuals you fought were their commando units. Specially trained, respected across the galaxy. The finest, if you will."
He hadn't had much problems dealing with them. "I'll keep an eye on their abilities. The third race?"
"Military, diplomacy and science. A species called the Salarians, involved with discovery and espionage. A bit like the Office of Naval Intelligence. In combat, they don't hold a candle to the Asari commandoes which don't a candle to you."
"Us. You mentioned a calendar?"
"Hmm…sorry, what?"
Distracted. Again. Why was that? "A calendar. What year is it according to the info you found?"
"Ah, that. Twenty-one eighty-five. Unless we somehow managed to travel four-hundred years in the past, I would suggest that these humans are somehow different from the ones we know."
The Chief was about to reply that, human or different human, they still needed protection, when someone attempted to contact him through the comm's set in his MJOLNIR. He immediately recognized it as the Commander's frequency, and he allowed her through.
"Chief? You read me?"
It hadn't been that long since she had left him. Half an hour tops. Was there a situation already? "I read you, Commander."
"We've got a new mission. Drop by the armoury to get geared up and meet me in fifteen hours."
The armoury. That was where they had taken most, if not all of his gear. While his Assault Rifle had proven to be reliable enough to take care of most hostiles, there might be more of those commandoes. If they were truly capable of breaking the laws of physics, he just needed to kill them before they could do so. Preferably from a distance. "Copy that."
"A mission already? These Collectors must be busy people. I've got a whole lot more information, Chief. If you need anything…"
The statement went unanswered for several moments. Cortana's behavior was…off. Just a bit. Enough to go noticed. John wasn't certain what it was, so he couldn't estimate how much he should worry about it. "Give me an update when we reach this armoury. I want your opinion."
"On what?"
The Chief strapped the pistol to his thigh and placed the rifle at his back, where the magnetic strips tightly secured it to his suit. "Do you want to fight for Shepard, or return to UNSC space?"
"Done. I will give you my answer when you reach the armoury. Be picky; we can't take everything with us."
"Copy that."
The elevator led to various levels aboard the ship. The AI-infested ship. The thought about a hostile Artificial Intelligence rattled the Chief more than the news of an alien community working with humans did. After everything with the Gravemind and Spark, he wasn't sure if she could take much more. Even though she had held her own considerably...there was no telling how powerful this AI was. If there was a way for him to destroy it…nobody could find out though. That might prove an effective failsafe if things ever escalate aboard this ship. He would have to worry; Cortana's fight would be over in a matter of miliseconds.
He hoped it wouldn't get to that.
The elevator took its time to deliver him to the Combat Information Center. As soon as the doors opened, the Spartan realized that it was actually the bridge. Not any bridge he had ever seen before though. If anything, it resembled a Covenant control room more than anything else. A raised platform before a map of the galaxy, surrounded by consoles that were manned by humans.
Every single one of which then looked up from their work at the sound of the elevator doors opening. There was no telling which were armed -which were hostile.
"Head to the port side. You will find the armoury there."
The Chief silently thanked Cortana for her guidance and, after a brief moment of hesitation, turned to leave the staring humans behind him. Even here, in a complete different section of the galaxy, people still gawked at him.
Frustrating.
The door to the port section of the ship effortlessly slid away when he reached for the green, holographic display, revealing a modest-sized room with walls covered in weapons and types of ammo. In the center of the room stood a dark-skinned man with that same black-white suit as most of these crewmen wore.
Human. Military status. A hint of trepidation.
The man turned to look at the srmoured super-soldier and, after a brief moment of shock, seemed to recollect himself rather quickly. Either due to professionalism or experience. The Master Chief could appreciate that.
"You must be the Chief," he spoke, with the same accent as Shepard seemed to have. It wasn't any accent he was familiar with and he had heard and seen a lot of different nationalities.
Then the man extended a hand.
The Spartan glanced at the appendage with suspicion. Not a lot of people were willing to press their bare flesh into a cold, unyielding gauntlet. A handshake was a sign of respect and mutual trust, neither of which he was willing to extent at this moment.
Cortana must have picked up on that, because she said, "Just do it. This is the man who keeps an eye on your gear, need I remind you?"
Slow and deliberate, the Chief took the man´s hand.
"Jacob Taylor."
He did not respond to that, instead opting to glance around the armoury. He saw various rifles and pistols, shotguns and snipers. All of them clearly recognizable even if these humans were not the UNSC. He spotted his own weapons and gear as well, hung up on the walls together with the other weapons that they could be classified with. It was interesting that these weapons all had the same general form and function.
Of the vast amount of weapons that had been stowed away onboard the Dawn's armory, only a few were on display here. The rest had to be in storage somewhere.
When John did not reply, the man scraped his throat and walked over towards the wall, pulling one of the distinctly-grey Assault Rifles off the wall. Amidst all these other alien weapons, it looked very out of place. "I took the liberty of going through some of the weapons your ship had stored. They're impressive."
The Chief glanced at Jacob, who was ejecting the magazine of the rifle. The man seemed to know exactly where to go, even with a design he was unfamiliar with. He worked fast and accurate, without wasting any movements, in removing one of the cartridges and setting it down on the table. It appeared that he had been stationed as the quartermaster for a reason.
He could appreciate that too.
"We work with a different sort of munition," Jacob said, holding the large round between his thumb and index finger. "As it stands now, I think your weapons are completely incompatible with ours."
"Can you make more of these?" the Chief replied, brushing with his own finger past the cartridge.
The man grunted and peered over his shoulder at one of the crates lying in the corner. "Maybe. It will be difficult to add any ammo types to them though."
Ammo types? The Spartan's curiosity won out over his hesitation and he asked, "What ammo types?"
"You know, incendiary, cryo and disrupter rounds. Until we can find a suitable charge for these cartridges, you won't be able to use any specialized munition." Jacob fell silent and observed the cartridge again, running a finger over the bullet at the tip. "Hmm…not that you will need those with this kind of munition, I suppose. This thing will rip through any barrier or shield." He set the bullet down and assessed the Chief, running his eyes up and down his armour in a very familiar gesture. "What can I help you with?"
"Looking for the SRS," the Chief said, before realizing that mister Taylor would have no clue what he meant. "The Sniper Rifle System."
"Ah," the man replied, prying one of the SRS99's off the wall. "Interesting design. Anti-material, if I'm not mistaken?"
"Yes," said the Chief. He was growing exceedingly weary of this conversation already. He didn't dislike the man, but neither was he willing to hold idle chat about these weapons. He had a job to do.
"This'll turn those Scions into mush real quick." The Chief took the rifle with one hand and slung it over his wall, where the magnetic clips aligned it into a position where it wouldn't block the Assault Rifle. "Anything else?"
"No."
Jacob nodded. "Good luck then. Just follow the Commander's orders and you'll be fine."
John did not doubt that. With his weapons of choice secured and ready for combat, the only thing that was left to do was wait.
What was he supposed to do with fifteen hours?
~0~
[SECURITY ACCESS GRANTED. UNSC TECHNOLOGICAL INFORMATION CODEX UNLOCKED]
SUBJECT: MARINE BODY ARMOUR (CONTINUED)
The extraordinary tough materials that composed the Covenant ground vehicles were thought impossible to synthesize. However, with many thousands of tons' worthy of scrap and wreckages, scientists had plenty of room for trial and error based methods of science.
Hannibal Weapon Systems is currently soliciting innovative research proposals on new Marine battle armour systems. The overall goal of this program is to develop a nonpowered, highly-protective replacement for the current BDU with higher sustainability to heat conveyed via plasma or laser weaponry, higher resistance to ballistic weapons and integrated battlefield components.
