Chapter 12, in which doctor Chakwas has to worry about her blood pressure.

~0~


"I need to discuss this with Councilor Valern. There are many dormant Mass Relays that, understandably, nobody wants to open. But the Rachni Wars transpired two millennia ago; it is time to move on, time for progress. If we can find a dormant Relay that lead into that particular section of space, we can not only bypass the Terminus Systems for future journeys, but also make contact with a new species! Hypothetical new species, of course. Hmm…I should contact Solus for arguments…"

- Commander Rentola's logbook, entry 5

~0~


Terminus Systems

Batarian Frigate Pride of Kar´shan

The Device was like a leash. It bound him to the alien masters, physically and mentally. He could not think for himself, could not move for himself, merely obey.

Obey.

The pale human sat alone within his cell, staring at the corner with empty eyes that did not see. The Device allowed him to breathe, refusing him the death that might have freed him. His neck still burned and ached after the impromptu surgery. Wounds that would never heal, scars that would never fade.

Obey.

That single word rebounded across his mind like a throbbing, infected wound. Ah, how the itching metal implant dominated his very soul. The events leading up to this…this prison were vague.

Fires. Smoke. The faint smell of burning meat. Not unpleasant, but thick. Lingering. The screaming, he remembered that too. Fondly, for a while. Then the source became apparent…

His limbs were heavy, his eyes groggy. Even remembering was an act he was not allowed.

Obey.

The human longed for a small moment of reprieve, if only to flex his muscles. They were ever so tense, and the repeated physicals assaults on his naked body had not made it better. Hot metal put against his bare skin…the stench of burning flesh still lingered. There were symbols on his back, now. He wondered if they were pretty.

Time passed by like a slow trickle. Every now and then, a droplet of water would strike the metal, and another thought would slip by the control of the Device.

The Normals had gotten their wish after all, then. That they had all fallen to that particular fate as well was a small consolation.

Surely something of use swam around his mind? Anything at all? Or were the wires in his brain all that remained now? Such an anticlimax.

Obey.

Yes, one popped up, suddenly and rather unsolicited. No, the alien masters were not the only ones who forced him to obey, who imposed upon him their will. Before them, it had been humans. Humans not like him. The neuro-typical kind. The ´Normals´. Truly, compulsory restraining of his behavior was about the one thing that the Device allowed him to think about.

How ironic-.

A flash of white light erupted behind his eyes as the Device punished him for thinking too much. The electricity coursed down his spine, causing his muscles to jerk and spasm.

"Ah…fu…"

How had he solved the human essence of his restraining? The enforced demanding of the binding of his mind? Everywhere he was, they always sought to enslave him to their ways, to their way of thinking.

Ob-

He softly inhaled as one memory of a different nature echoed through his consciousness. Someone who genuinely loved him. The one, very rare individual he truly felt affection for.

Mother.

His breathing became more somewhat irregular. His mother. She had protected him against the Normals since his birth. When the alien masters -the alien invaders- had descended upon his home, they had taken her.

The Device buzzed in his skull, signaling the arrival of one of his masters.

Hmm…was it dinnertime, or had his own time run out? They had taken most of the others away. Hours and hours it took, slowly watching the presence of the others wane. One by one, the alien masters took them away. In silence of course. Resisting the alien masters, be it vocally or physically, was a thing of the past now.

And he watched them leave with indifference. Had the Device not regulated his thoughts with the little wires in his brain, he might have felt some joy at their disappearance. But now, what little emotion he was capable of feeling was taken from him.

But if it was dinnertime…maybe not for much longer.

His mother. They would not have her. He would find her -he needed to find her.

In the distance echoed the sound of a metal door slamming shut, followed by heavy footsteps as one of the alien masters came walking down the dimly-lit hallway.

The human attempted to smile, but the Device blocked the muscles in his face, keeping it locked in an uncaring mask of blandness.

Soon…soon…

"Wakey wakey," the alien master said with his gravelly voice. "Here's your food, meat."

A wet slap followed as the alien master threw…something on the ground. The new slave was unable to turn around and look for himself though; the Device prevented him from moving unless…

Obey.

The human grumbled something unintelligible. Even his jaw muscles were loyal to the Device, it seemed. He would test those, first.

The alien master still heard him. He thundered towards the shimmering door and unlocked it. With what, he did not know.

"Got something to say, meat?" barked the master.

Not to be heard, don't say a word…oh, he would keep his words to himself. He was waiting for a specific one though.

Obey.

"Yeah…didn't think so." The alien master then lashed out at the human with a heavy boot, kicking him against the shimmering wall of light. "You humans need to learn your place! Once we reach Omega, you'll never see the light of day again."

Another kick. More pain…it riled him up. Drove him towards that beloved, life-saving breaking point. His neck itched, his skin prickled.

"Bet you'll sell better than the women, too. Pretty boy like you? You're going to become someone's very special friend, meat! Maybe a turian will take a liking to you." The alien laughed again. "If we're lucky, we'll see a krogan take off with you."

The human groaned, unable to even clutch his bruised ribs. Yes…this would do.

"Well, whatcha waiting for? Eat up. Heh…"

His laughter was abruptly cut off as the human suddenly jumped to his feet and lunged for him. The batarian's thick suit failed to protect him and the human sank his teeth deep within the alien's exposed throat, easily tearing through flesh and arteries. Warm, salty blood spouted free and filled his mouth, driving him into an ecstasy he had not felt in a very long time. It felt warm and safe and so good.

The alien sputtered and wheezed in pathetic attempts to cry for help, but the human easily cut off his air supply and smothered any sound in its crib. He dragged the batarian against the ground, pinned him down his limbs.

Now it was the one who jerked and spasmed…the one who was lying on the ground, helpless and at the mercy of others.

And like the Normals, the slave had none.

Its blood was thick and saline, possessing just the right knack for his mind to snap back under his own control. The Device was strong, but the pleasure of the violence was just a tad stronger.

The human ripped out the batarian's throat with his bare teeth and stopped only when the 'master' stopped thrashing. Then. He raised his head and allowed the warm, red blood too pour down his body.

"Ah…hah…"

Now…now he could sit and think.

His name, William Johannes Everheart. His mother, kidnapped. His mind…not free of control yet.

William softly inhaled through his nose, allowing the metallic scent of the freshly-shed blood to overcome the musky stench of the metal ship. His Biotics were vibrating underneath his skin, his biotic amp just waiting for a full release.

The fools had forgotten to remove it. The one memento to his father.

Not yet…not yet. First, he needed to be free of that pesky piece of junk embedded within his skull. Nothing would dictate how he lived his life…not people, not machines.

He manifested his biotics in a thin layer over his skin, gently and very carefully steering them towards his neck. He found something that did not belong there. The control chip, embedded within the base of his neck, reaching up to his skull.

Everheart reached for it with the dark energy fields, grasping it and directing the destructive forces through its frame. The batarian piece of metal was unable to stand up to the damaging flow of energy and slowly, it started to disintegrate.

Blood dripped down on his neck, but he only relished in the pain. He had long ago learned how to channel the discomfort of his body into something useful. How would he have survived otherwise?

The Device spurred desperately to stop him, but his willpower was vastly more powerful than it. The little machine was disintegrated, dissolved by the delicate biotic forces he ran through his body.

The process made him somewhat dizzy. He had never before used his brain to destroy something in his brain.

With the alien Device gone, William's body was his own again. He took a deep breath and exhaled, calming his hysterical heart.

He glanced down at the pathetic corpse of his batarian jailer, pushing away the desire to further maim and disfigure it in his rage. He had better things to do.

After having armed himself with the alien's gun and knife, Everheart glanced down the hallway. There would be more of them…more of the batarian slavers. One of them would tell him where his mother was. A little creative coercion might be necessary.

Well, he would probably do that anyway.

~0~


Normandy SR-2

Medical bay

Doctor Karin Chakwas set her mug of cold coffee down and reexamined the graphs that the VI program was uploading to her omni-tool, charting images of the soldier's internal structure. Holographic bones, organs and muscles were slowly mapped by the medical bay's deep scanning technology.

Occasionally, she glanced at this 'Master Chief'. When they had brought this man to the medical bay, it had generated quite an upheaval. The newest addition to the team had been seen as an enigma, as well as somewhat of a force of nature on the battlefield. It had taken the combined effort of Jack and Samara to biotically lift the soldier into the medical bay and even then, several other crewmembers had gathered outside.

The Doctor had taken one look at the cracked visor, charred and bullet-riddled armor and bleeding wounds and immediately activated a sterilization field to prevent airborne bacteria or other particles from making the situation worse.

His battered combat armor had proven impossible to remove through normal means, which had led to Tali'Zorah nar Rayya being pressed into service to aid in its removal. The girl was a hard worker and she was making good progress with the several engineering drones she had employed to hold and remove the various pieces of armor she was working with. Already she had laid his chest bare.

Thus far, all the evidence pointed to the conclusion that this Master Chief truly was a human, which had confused Doctor Chakwas somewhat. Shepard had been convinced of his alien nature and, after all, the good Commander didn't often make mistakes when it came to people.

Jane had gone back on that assumption after the Master Chief's recovery from New Campton, of course. It seemed that there was a first time for everything.

Karen would go with the assumption that this soldier was indeed a human. His chest, though unhealthily pale and more muscled than mister Taylor, looked completely human to her. Of course, that was disregarding the many scars that the soldier had accumulated over his life, as well as the long, angry lines of previous surgical procedures…and as well as the many bruises and bleeding wounds that had to have been caused by his most recent operation.

In fact, that one individual had survived the congregation of so many scars was something inhuman on its own. Just how many rounds had the batarian ground forces fired at him? And what on Earth had the soldier done to get himself so drenched in alien blood?

Fortunately, the gore on his armor was nothing that the sterilization field couldn't scrub clean. Chakwas longed to see what manner of facial traits were hidden underneath that damaged helmet of his. But she was a professional, and she could keep her curiosity under control for as long as was needed.

"There, all done," Tali'Zorah nar Rayya said, stepping back and giving the signals to the drones she had brought with her to power down. "His helmet can be removed without incident, but I can't risk taking off more of his suit."

"Scared of the big, bad fusion reactor?" Joked Shepard. The woman sat on her bed, against Chakwas' orders, and was impatiently playing with the blue omni-tool that she had insisted on keeping at her person, against Chakwas' orders.

At least her surgery had gone by without a hassle. Doctor Mordin Solus was a very gifted individual. She had recruited the salarian into the surgery, not only because of the extensive injuries that the soldier had received, but also because of the potentially-alien flora that his body might contain. They had found this man in a cryogenic chamber on a derelict vessel, after all.

That, and performing surgery on two destructive soldiers that were so privy to self-damage was a harrowing task, not meant for one professional alone.

"Yes," Tali'Zorah honestly replied. "If I tinker too much with the suit, I might trigger a meltdown that will rival the destruction of the original Normandy. Sorry Doctor."

"That is alright, Tali," Replied Doctor Chakwas. The quarian had done an excellent job in guiding the several drones and machines that had, for the past hour, methodically stripped the soldier of parts his marvelous suit. "I can treat most of his injuries like this. Thank you for your assistance."

The quarian nodded at her and exited the medical bay, understanding that her services were no longer needed.

"So Docs," said the Commander. "I need to know one thing, and one thing only."

"Don't worry Shepard," said Doctor Chakwas. "The Master Chief will live. His internal organs seem to be mostly intact-"

"Can I remove his helmet?"

The Doctor trailed off. "Excuse me?"

The Commander stared at her with those large, emerald orbs, like a child begging for candy. "Please? Since I tore a lung, piece of liver and twelve muscles saving him?"

Doctor Chakwas rolled with her eyes. She should have seen this coming, really. Since Cerberus had resurrected her, she had gone through the total sum of zero changes. She was still the same eccentric, peculiar little Adept that the Alliance had warned her about on the original Normandy, all those years ago.

So how could she say no?

"Of course," she said with an exasperated sigh. "But proceed with caution." To Mordin, she said, "I have almost finished with the deep scan, but there are some peculiar results. Could you take a look at these graphs for me?"

The salarian nodded and reached for her holographic display, which contained all the scans and images she had performed and made in the past hour. "Of course. When will surgery start?"

"In a moment." Chakwas watched the Commander remove the soldier's helmet, revealing a pale but distinctively-human face. Scarred, but still handsome, in a rugged kind of way. "Hmm…it appears the Commander was right on the money. The Master Chief is a human indeed."

"Human nature of soldier deeply unsettling. Alliance military unable to forge powered armor of this quality." Mordin fell silent as he glanced at the graphs, absorbing the sixty minutes' worth of data in twenty seconds.

"Look at you," Shepard muttered. She glanced at the soldier, then reached out and gently touched his left eye, where several wounds had already started to clot. "You have something to explain to me, mister."

Doctor Chakwas scraped her throat and the Commander looked over her shoulder like a deer caught in the headlights. "Commander Shepard. Having successfully undergone surgery does not mean you can start climbing on other patients. Please return to your seat."

The omni-tool strangely pulsated when near the Master Chief, oddly enough. Chakwas found it to be an odd thing indeed, that when the Commander moved back to her own bed, the pulsating stopped again.

Doctor Chakwas put that strange observation out of her head and focused on the task that lay at hand; the surgical procedure to keep the Master Chief alive. She had been operating on soldiers, both alien and human, ever since she had graduated from medical school, but the injuries that this man had sustained were grievous, even by her standards.

"Allow me to recap his actions once more," Chakwas said while Mordin administered another sedative to the soldier, just in case. "He was left behind on the Collector Cruisier and that was the last you saw of him. Then, the Collector vessel appears above New Campton in the middle of a batarian slave raid, only to fall apart in orbit due to presumed sabotage."

"Probably Master Chief-induced sabotage," Shepard added.

"Right…and then your Chief survived a fall from orbit, woke up in the middle of the batarian assault and not only managed to survive for more than a day, but also muster an effective enough resistance for the batarians to resort to shelling the city with a warship."

"A warship he probably crashed afterwards," Shepard cheekily said.

"Let us not presume things that we cannot know, shall we, Commander? Surviving planetary bombardment is one thing, but boarding and crashing the Heavy Frigate that initiated it is a completely different thing."

Shepard shrugged. "Tali smashed the bridge with the observation drone. Might've been that, too."

"Oh, yes, I shall not forget to top off my summary with the observation of your helmet camera footage that the Chief survived being rammed with a Mako. Did I miss anything important, hmm?"

The Commander laid back on her bed, clutching her side. "Nope…well, unless you take into account his wounds from holding off hordes of Harbingers and zombies aboard the Collector ship before he even fell from orbit. Huh…strangest sentence I've said today."

Karin nodded. "I see. Thank you, Commander. We will commence the surgery now."

Truthfully, Doctor Chakwas was very relieved that the Commander was back to her exotic self. The initial loss of the Master Chief had weighed on her heart heavily enough, but to add in another attack on a human colony? There were a few things in the galaxy that could properly rile Shepard up and batarian slavers were one of them.

The surgery hadn't even been underway for a quarter of an hour when Doctor Chakwas found herself having to stop. Something was amiss.

"Mordin," the Doctor muttered, taking a good look at the charts again. "This isn't right."

"Biochemical enhancement procedure evident. Biomechanical augmentations invasive enough to kill subject halfway through. Manipulation of body beyond even salarian ability. Not product of Alliance military."

Shepard looked on with worry, but Chakwas had more pressing issues to attend to. "Mordin, I am detecting faint EM signatures emanating from the subject. His armor?"

"Not armor. EM signatures coming from brain and nervous system. Cybernetic implants… " The salarian doctor took a deep breath. "Fascinating."

"The scans show that the subject has been heavily augmented," said Chakwas. "His bones, his nervous system, even his muscular system."

"All cognitive and physical aspects of body altered. Would put Miranda's father to shame," smiled Mordin.

"Guess that puts the 'super' in super-soldier," commented Shepard. "I have a question. If Miranda's modifications were the best money could buy and she's Miranda…then how come the Chief is…well, the Master Chief?"

It was an excellent question. Genetic modification was still a difficult subject within the alliance military and most soldiers only received basic modifications. But a procedure as invasive as this… "I have no clue. His injuries are extreme. The Master Chief has suffered major internal bleeding. From what I can see on the scans, the source would be bleeding in his liver and a moderate laceration of his right lung."

Mordin continued. It appeared both of them had a penchant for thinking aloud. "Three cracked ribs, fractured finger on left hand and torn muscles around right ankle. Pattern suggest impact at high speed. Left shoulder has dislocated and reinserted incorrectly. Pinching off blood vessels."

Dear lord…the list went on! "Local insertion of med-gel in abdomen suggests that the Chief attempted to patch himself up. It stopped the moderate bleeding at one point, but the wounds reopened after he took another heavy blow."

"Brain scan revealed major concussion. Internal lacerations, some bullets still lodged inside body. Armor-piercing, blew through weakened section of power armor. Lacerations caused by splintering of unknown substance. Wait! Unknown substance in fact part of fractured ribs. Glad to know clear cause."

"Ribs don't cause lacerations when they crack, Mordin," corrected Chakwas.

"Intriguing…run test on substance. Hypothesize advanced material grafted onto skeletal structure, in accordance with biomechanical augmentation."

"His bones lacerated his organs when they cracked?" asked Chakwas. "I will run the test later."

As the salarian continued the operation, preferring to run it by hand instead of trusting the machines of the recovery beds, Chakwas inserted several camera probes into the breaches of the armor, to get a clear view on its insides. Both the soldier's armor as his augments were beyond what the Alliance could produce and she wanted to know where they came from. Even Cerberus could not hope to attain this level of augmentations, otherwise they would have employed them by now, be it with Shepard or with Miranda.

It made sense, really. Karin had performed so many surgeries in her life that she knew the human body inside out. Granted, many of those times were Jane. This soldier, whoever he was, had been heavily augmented by his government. His physique, his musculature, his skeletal structure…none of it was a product of natural evolution. Biological limits did not allow for them.

It took the salarian at least another half hour to complete the surgery, but when he did, he seemed to consider it a personal achievement. "Ah. Chief's vital signs stabilizing! Body healing, excellent. Have removed most of foreign materials."

"So how is he?" asked Shepard. "Is he gonna be okay?"

"It was a wonder he was still alive, Commander. With injuries like those, I doubt even Urdnot Wrex would have survived."

"Master Chief stable for the moment. Do not expect him conscious for next twenty-four hours. Suggest you take rest too, Shepard. Biotic exhaustion and physical damage enough to render asari commando's unconscious."

Yes, that reminded Karin of something else. "Commander, there seems to be a small problem. It appeared as if you were assisting Samara and Jack in lifting the Master Chief, biotically."

"Indeed. Will excuse myself now; need to run tests on foreign substance. Lecturing Shepard considered as counterproductive to research. Good luck, Shepard. Will need it."

"Traitor," Shepard angrily whispered as the salarian left. She then seemed to realize that she was alone with the doctor and immediately switched gears to 'innocent victim'. "Who, me?" Shepard tried to wave away the accusation, but the fear in her eyes was apparent. "Of course not! That would be-"

"Completely irresponsible! You know you can't push yourself like that! Think about the consequences of your actions for once! You're not a child anymore, Shepard!"

Shepard listened to Doctor Chakwas lecturing her with all the attention of a little girl who had been caught doing something she wasn't allowed to. But then, for some reason, she seemed to shift her focus to something behind Karin.

"What are you even-"

"Good morning, Chief!"

What?

~0~


Somewhere between the state of consciousness and unconsciousness, the Master Chief thought he was dreaming. He was hearing voices, sometimes vague, sometimes loud.

"It was a wonder he was still alive, Commander. With injuries like those…"

Suddenly the voice faded away. Exhaustion took over his senses, pressing down on him like a smothering carpet. But something within him stirred, and he struggled to remain, in fact, conscious.

"…irresponsible! You know you can't push yourself like that! Think about the…"

The voice belonged to a female, he realized. A mature one, that he failed to recognize.

His mind categorized it is an unknown and slowly, he slipped away into darkness again. He was so tired, so exhausted, that he almost could have ignored the bright light that stung his eyes…

Light. Voices.

Cortana.

The Master Chief woke with a start. Awake, however, was a slight overestimation of his condition. Somewhat aware was a better description. Even so, memories of the ground assault rushed back to him. Clearing outposts in the night, facing off an entire army in the day. His movements hindered by the little girl he had vowed to protect.

Pain shot through his body and he cramped up, unable to move a muscle without aggravating his wounds. At least he was still alive. He couldn't feel his MJOLNIR -not all of it, at least.

He opened his eyes and was blinded by the sudden brightness of his surroundings. He blinked away the blurriness and slowly adjusted to the light. He was lying in a med bay. The lights had been toned up, way too high. But the pressure against his back was comfortable, meaning that he had been recovered by people who had at least been caring enough to think about his comfort.

The light were too bright. His visor should have polarized by now.

Wait. Where was his visor?

The realization hit him with the force of a 7,62mm round; he wasn't wearing his helmet. In fact, several pieces of his armor had been removed, including a section of his thoracic plate. An entire section of his chest was bare and exposed. Even the undersuit had been cut away.

Alarmed, he tried to get up, but his chest ached in protest and he was forced to lie down again.

"That's not right…" That same voice said. "He's not supposed to wake up this soon. Mordin gave him enough meds to keep Grunt down for the better part of the journey."

"Told you he was special."

"Commander, please, would you just stay still!"

It took John a few moments to realize that the woman had addressed him. He turned his head towards the source of her voice.

Human. Female. Grey hair and wrinkles. Indicative of advanced age. In her right hand she held a holographic display, in her left a large needle. She glared at him with disapproval.

The Chief glared back, taking note of the needle. Who was this woman? The field medic?

As he rapidly took in his surroundings, he noticed that he wasn´t the only person in a recovery bed. There, on the bed next to him, sat a young woman with red hair and green eyes.

Commander Shepard.

Monitors and holographic displays were attached to her bed just like his. She wore a mixture between a hospital gown and military fatigues, but she seemed utterly relaxed. Her body was slender, but not petite. Muscled, fit. Lean.

Her feet slowly kicked against the edge of her bed, like she was an excited child.

Despite the somewhat contradictory image, he felt relieved to see her, and he felt the tension in his muscles slowly ebb away. Her appearance went coupled with memories he couldn't fully place. Bursts of blue and red light, explosions and a beautiful figure, perched atop the turret of hostile armor.

His safety, however, was not his immediate concern.

"Where is she?" he asked. Croaked was more like it. He felt blood coat the inside of his throat and his mouth was so dry that he felt like drinking a gallon of coolant fluid.

"Right here," Shepard cryptically said. She was smiling as she looked at him, even though there were at least two IV drips attached to her wrist. She had been injured too? How?

The Master Chief felt his exhaustion increase, but so did his anxiety. "Commander, the batarians took my friend. I have to-"

"Don't worry John," she said, stunning the Spartan into silence. "I took care of that. The good Doctor wants a word with you, first."

The Master Chief would have protested, but the Commander had called him by his name. Only his fellow Spartans called him by name.

His Spartans, and Cortana.

That required his immediate attention. What was going on here?

Confused, he shifted his gaze to the impatient woman he presumed to be the Doctor. "I'm fine," he brusquely told her. "Commander, I need-"

"Fine?" He was cut off for the second time in ten seconds. Judging by the way the doctor talked, she would not have a third time. Her expression was stern and her voice demanded absolute silence on his part. "Please, you are anything but fine."

With that, she unfolded several chards, placed her holographic display at his feet and scraped her throat. "I don't know who in their right mind would create power armor with integrity equaling that of a starship's hull, but it took sixty minutes, our most gifted engineer and three drones to remove even a small portion. Your injuries were severe enough to kill a lesser man twice over!"

The Master Chief was taken aback by the fierceness of this woman. It was always the doctors. "I was fighting to locate my partner," he replied.

But it wasn't just that. He had been fighting to protect, too. To keep someone safe, away from the harm that had befallen her family. He didn't quite remember everything. Some parts were missing, He must have suffered a concussion.

The little girl. Alice. "There was someone down there with me," he then said. "A young girl. Did she make it?"

The doctor frowned, then looked at Shepard for confirmation. A dark look crossed Shepard's eyes and she looked away.

"The batarians issued an air strike. You were the only survivor."

Alice had been killed by the assault. He remembered the buildings falling apart, the young girl screaming…

"Acknowledged," he said as graciously as he could muster. He was unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. It didn't strike him as odd that he was so affected by the death of a civilian. After all, he had promised her that he would keep her safe. He had failed.

"I'm sorry, Chief," Shepard said. She then stood up -earning herself a glare from the medic that could have stopped a plasma bolt in its tracks. She didn't seem to notice it though. She moved to the Chief's side and sat down next to his bed. "But you gave the batarians one hell of a fight down there. You bought the Alliance time to attend to their losses and for that, you have my gratitude."

The Master Chief remained silent. He felt like there was something that Shepard was leading up to, and he wasn't mistaken.

"But it appears we have a little problem right now. Two, actually. One problem is never enough. You see, you being human presents me with some impossibilities. Also, your partner is an advanced Artificial Intelligence and those are very illegal in Citadel space. Illegal as in, to be decommissioned upon sight."

Decommissioned. Murdered.

The Spartan tensed up. She hadn't -she wouldn't.

Shepard smirked. "Isn't that right, Cortana?"

A figure came forth from the Commander's blue omni-tool, one that the Chief instantly recognized. "Cortana?" He all but whispered.

"Chief!" The small, holographic display of his closest friend cried out. "She found you!" She paused, taking a moment to observe his many wounds and injuries. "They hurt you."

John's relief was mitigated by the Commander's choice of words. Cortana was alive and unharmed, but…AI's were illegal in Council space? Decommissioning upon sight…they would execute her. He wouldn't let them take her again. Twice he had lost her. Never again. "What happened to you? Did they harm you?"

"I couldn't wake you. The impact -they found and pulled me, again! Locked me away...in the most primitive of systems!" Cortana halted, as if processing something. Then, in a rather sadistic tone, she added, "But I was one step ahead of them."

"Yeah, that's probably the reason AI's are illegal," replied Shepard. "She vented the ship, murdering all the batarians onboard."

"Good," said the Chief. He glanced back at Cortana, taking note of the concern on her face, the way the omni-tool projected her appearance as well. Had Shepard willingly allowed her in, or had she hitched a ride? Shepard knew of Cortana's relation to the Chief, knew of her existence. She wouldn't do anything to harm them, that wasn't what she was like.

But could he be sure? In this galaxy, everyone was a threat. "What happens next?"

The Commander looked down at Cortana as well. The AI looked up at Shepard and smiled, as if knowing something John didn't. "Another AI on the Normandy…my crew is going to hate me. Garrus, Tali…poor Mordin. He'll have a stroke if he hears of this. Miranda will be on you like a hound."

The Master Chief frowned. "Commander. If Cortana is not welcome, I should take her and leave this ship."

Shepard sat back on her bed, and crossed her legs, still appearing unconcerned. She still had Cortana. "Yeah, but I don't want you to leave. I lost you once, already."

"Nobody is taking Cortana," growled the Chief.

"That's the thing. I don't want to send her away, either. What about you, Cortana? Do you want to leave?"

Cortana glanced up at Shepard and then wordlessly shook her head. What was going on between those two?

"Then it's decided," Shepard cheerfully called. "You two will both be staying." She then proceeded to completely baffle the Chief and reached out for Cortana's avatar with a bandaged hand, as if stroking her. She did it so absentmindedly that there could have been no malicious intent driving her. "Of course, you two will have to work to keep it a secret."

The Master Chief raised an eyebrow and glanced at the Doctor, who was pinching the bridge of her nose in the physical representation of the thought 'are you kidding me'.

Shepard followed his gaze and saw the Doctor too. "Oh, right. Doctor Chakwas, this is the Master Chief. His real name is John, but Cortana said that he doesn't like it when people call him that, so we should keep that a secret."

The Doctor turned to glare at the Commander, who frowned ever so slightly in return. "Oh, and Cortana is a secret too."

The Master Chief looked at Cortana with a faint sense of unease. Shepard had a…strange way of commanding her subordinates. Was she usually like this?

"Commander, are you certain you did not pop a brain vessel?" Doctor Chakwas then said, prompting Shepard to adopt a very cautious attitude.

"Ehm…Karin? I was serious."

The Doctor gave the Commander a look that reduced the biotic angel of destruction into an intimidated child. "So was I. Be it a brain aneurysm or a cerebral infarction from overtaxing your biotics, you failed to immediately contact me with the symptoms."

"I didn't feel them!"

Cortana looked at the Chief, who shrugged and continued observing. There were arguments you didn't get in-between, even as a Spartan.

"Couldn't feel them? Jack had to point out that you were coughing up blood! Are you telling me that Jack mixed up the symptoms of biotic exhaustion?"

The Commander muttered something under her breath.

"I didn't think so. You and the Master Chief are going to stay here for as long as is necessary. I am certain that the…two of you will have a lot to discuss."

"Yes doctor Chakwas…"

The Doctor looked back at the Chief. "The medication we gave you ought to help stave off the pain. If you feel any discomfort, don't hesitate to give a call."

The Master Chief nodded. "Yes ma'am."

And with that, Doctor Chakwas left, leaving the Spartan and the Commander alone.

Silence consumed the room as the two of them stared at each other, Shepard with a hint of amusement and the Master Chief with stern anticipation. It was Cortana who broke that silence. "I think I speak for both of us, Jane, when I say, thank you."

The Master Chief allowed himself to close his eyes and relax. His mind, though sluggish, still processed the situation with much more speed and efficiency than any normal human would. Cortana had been taken from him by the batarians. They had taken her off-planet, into one of their Frigates. There, they had made the mistake of plugging her into the system, resulting in their immediate death via decompression of the ship. Shepard had retrieved her before hitting the colony.

Where she had proceeded to single-handedly fight off the rest of the batarian ground forces, getting him out of a very bad situation. How much had Cortana revealed to her?

"You can thank me by helping me figure something out," replied Shepard. John noticed that her omni-tool was still active even though she wore nothing than that tightly-fitting gown. No armor to support it. Subdermal implants? "You, John, are one hell of a soldier."

The Master Chief remained silent. He just now realized that, if he was lying in the medical bay with such extensive injuries, they must have performed surgery on him.

Surgery. They had most likely stumbled across his augmentations. The highly-classified information buried deep within his body, belonging to the Office of Naval Intelligence. He belonged to the Office of Naval Intelligence. These people did not have the clearance to know about him.

But Shepard…she was an enigma. This ship, the Normandy, belonged to her. And this group of mercenaries and soldiers she was gathering, seemed utterly loyal to her. And now, she had Cortana too. She would give her back, he knew that, but…even then, he was utterly beholden to her whims. He did not know how to feel about that.

"The amount of punishment you took? No human would have survived it. No normal human, at least."

She was playing with him. That was her style, the way she ensured her command. There was nothing he could say in response, so he remained silent.

"Then again, you're not really normal, are you? Don't worry, nobody on my ship is. Normal's boring. Guess that's why Grunt doesn't like Jacob…still, not many of us can survive a fall from orbit."

Commander Jane Shepard was a perceptive woman. Hidden behind her strange mannerisms, she possessed a keen mind.

"So when were you going to tell me that you came from a different humanity?"

~0~


Deck 2: CIC

As Miranda Lawson made her way towards the Combat Information Center to discuss the appearance of four batarian Frigates above the same colony that the Collectors had taken an interest in, she found herself in a situation more deserving of her attention.

Or rather, a situation more interesting to her.

Doctor Mordin Solus exited the elevator, holding a datapad and muttering something to himself. The old STG veteran was subtle enough to keep his voice low enough so that others couldn't overhear him, but Miranda still caught what he said. She would thank her augmented sense of hearing for that.

"Alliance unable to produce augments invasive enough to warrant survival of orbital drop…need to run test on armor…"

Operative Lawson smiled. "Hello Mordin," she innocently greeted him.

"Ah, Miranda. Question: mister Lawson spared no expense in your genetic upgrades?"

Miranda blinked, taken aback by the sudden question. Why the sudden interest in augmentations? "No. My father is a wealthy man; he wanted to make sure his progeny was in possession of augments that exceeded those of the Alliance military. Why?"

"Hmm…hypothesis confirmed. Non-Alliance origin. Ah…Shepard maintaining clandestine operation!" He scraped his throat. "No particular reason…"

That last line was delivered so dryly, so calmly, that it couldn't possibly have been his thought. Shepard wanted to keep secrets from her? About possible non-Alliance vectors?

Well…she could trust the Commander with that.

At least, she could, had this not been a rather unusual situation. The retrieval of the Master Chief from New Campton was reason enough for her to readjust her opinion of him, as well as reevaluate the information she had gleaned from him.

The bugs she had planted had failed to report in, strangely enough.

"You performed surgery on the Master Chief, didn't you?" Miranda pointed out, walking after the old salarian towards his lab.

"Silly hypothesis; Doctor Chakwas more than capable of handling one wounded soldier."

Miranda crossed her arms and glared at Mordin. "You have some bloodstains on your coat."

The salarian glanced down at his outfit and then sighed. "Need for sanitizing procedures outside surgery increases. Very well. Commander Shepard has proven very protective of Master Chief. Questions regarding details surrounding his surgery are to be directed at her."

Operative Lawson scowled. "Mordin, as Shepard's second-in-command, I need to be aware of potential threats."

The salarian gave her a quirky smile. "Jack still moping around in Engineering. Grunt still celebrating rite of passage. Sum of breeding requests got to his head."

"You know what I mean. You said something about non-Alliance augmentations-"

The salarian inhaled sharply. "Did not."

Miranda could feel Jane all over that remark. How couldn't she, when the Commander had given her that exact same retort every single time she had accused her of something? "Yes you did. Did you mean alien? Did the salarians experiment on this Master Chief?" Then, to further push Mordin in a corner she added, "Doctors shouldn't lie, Mordin."

"Can safely confirm that salarians did not experiment on Chief."

"Turians then? Asari?"

"Hmm…cannot confirm that turians or asari did not perform experiments on Chief."

He couldn't confuse her. Not when she was very aware of the current progress within alien augmentations; the turians generally frowned upon genetic or biological changes to their soldiers and the asari did not allocate enough resources to that research. It left only the salarians as a potential non-Alliance vector within the Master Chief's miraculous survival.

"You know, I saw the Master Chief in action on Illium," she said. "And I saw him dodge bullets there. Do you know how sharp your reflexes have to be to dodge bullets?"

"Yes. Depending on speed and position of shooter and combatant, increase of four-hundred percent capability necessary to dodge at moderate distances. All conjecture, of course."

"Mordin, I know that the soldier is augmented," Miranda said, having decided to simply cut the knot. "You said non-Alliance origin, remember? Do you understand what that means?"

"Shepard's implications quite clear. Human non-Alliance origin. Fascinating ideas, the Commander."

Miranda shook her head. "I personally wrote the report to The Illusive Man describing the Master Chief's death aboard the Collector Vessel."

"Thought Shepard meant to write the reports?"

Lawson sighed in annoyance and brushed a strand of black hair out of her eyes. "She's meant to write them, yes. Apparently, being Second-in-Command means having to write your CO's papers. Nevertheless, he stayed behind on the Collector Vessel. There were thousands of Collectors in there. Mordin, you accompanied Shepard on Horizon, you know the horrors that the Collectors made!"

The salarian didn't respond.

"There is no way he survived in that ship on his own," continued Miranda. "And if you believe your own theories, there is no way his augmentations are human-origin."

Now the salarian looked at her, with a sudden glare. "Insinuating Master Chief built with Collector tech? Reaper sleeper agent, sent to eliminate Shepard again? No, impossible. Scanned tech, did not find Collector origin. Chief obviously not Collector Husk."

Miranda crossed her arms. "Why else would we discover that derelict after Horizon, but before our raid on the Collector?"

"Theory fails to explain destruction of Collector vessel above New Campton, nor Chief's extreme violence against batarian slavers."

"Anything could explain that, really. I suggest we personally ask him. Where is he now?"

Mordin was about to reply, then stopped himself. "Ah. Problematic."

Miranda raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"In medical bay-"

"Then we find Shepard."

"-alone with Shepard."

Miranda cursed, then immediately went for the elevator, with Mordin hot on her heels."

~0~


Jane would have eagerly listened with keen interest to John's story, but there was a small problem that prevented her from listening. Apart from the constant stinging of her recently-fixed organs.

He didn't talk.

The soldier lay in his bed, glaring at her with those unnaturally-blue eyes of his. Grunt's eyes were rare for his species, but she had never seen such a bright shade within human eyes before.

His eyes were augmented too.

A super-soldier with full-body modifications. Jane liked to consider herself one of the most peak-fit humans in the galaxy, what with the constant running and fighting she went through.

Well, she liked to consider herself that way when she wasn't busy dreaming about the days before Cerberus had to bring her back from the dead.

But she was damn good. Still, she didn't doubt for one moment that the Master Chief could kill her with his bare hands.

Not that he ever would.

The little AI appeared from her omni-tool once more, using the integrated holographic displays and flash-forging hardware to build herself an avatar within a micro-second. "The cat's out of the bag, Chief. Might as well tell her the whole story."

"I like whole stories," replied Jane.

Faced with the beautiful AI's not-so-subtle prodding, the super-soldier was helpless. "Whole story isn't my specialty."

Cortana placed her hands on her hips. "Oh, right. Sure. Fresh from being kidnapped by batarian slavers and you already boss me around again?"

To borrow one of Mordin´s favorite words, the AI´s manner of acting was fascinating. EDI was a popsicle compared to Cortana, who chippered away with sarcasm and rhetoric remarks like she was human. It was strange as well. Even her avatar was human in appearance.

It was also naked, but Shepard wouldn't complain.

"Don't pretend you don't like it," the Chief wearily replied. Jane was absolutely certain that this man was not only completely human, but also completely soldier. The times she had seen them joke away about their own injuries, pretend like nothing was wrong…such a human thing to do. And while she wasn't as fine-tuned as Samara was, she still had her sensing moments. There was no malicious intent within the Chief at all. He was a walking, breathing killer machine, but he was also just a soldier, doing his job.

Apart from his overwhelming concern for Cortana´s welfare. That went a bit beyond duty. But who was she to judge?

"Ouch. Should have seen that one coming."

And EDI was installed inside the entire ship! The entire Normandy! That was like, a hundred feet of AI matrix. How did she fit within a chip the size of her thumb? And how could a chip built for the back of the Chief's helmet fit inside her omni-tool? This wasn't Alliance tech, but it couldn't be Council tech either.

More arguments that demanded the existence of a second group of mankind.

Cortana turned towards Jane. "I have been scanning the various galactic maps as well as the extranet. Nothing that points towards our existence. Our mankind never evolved here; the Alliance mankind did. It's like we found an alternate version of history."

"So, did we end up in an alternate universe?" said the Chief.

"That's the concussion talking, Chief. No, we did not end up in an alternate universe, because something like isn't physically possible. At least, not without two hours of explanation on quantum mechanics."

"You're a feisty one," remarked Jane.

The lines of code that ran across Cortana's extremities seemed to hitch, if only for a second. "Thanks. A girl tries. No, I believe that our humanity- the UNSC one- evolved in a region of space not normally mapped within this galaxy. The most accurate readings and analyses I found were also the most classified ones. Basically, the entire upper arm of the galaxy, beyond the Terminus Systems. For conversational purposes, I shall refer to that section of unmapped space as the Forerunner Arm."

"Unmapped space," said Jane. "That means there are no Mass Relays pointing to your home, or that the Relays that do, are all dormant. Hmm…homecoming will be difficult then. What-"

Cortana suddenly disappeared before Jane could finish her sentence and it wasn't hard to imagine why. John heard it, too. The bickering voices of one salarian doctor and one Miranda Lawson.

Goodie. Hospital visits already. But hadn't Doctor Chakwas sealed off the medical bay? Then why the visit?

When she saw Miranda pulling her pistol out, she knew that there was something wrong.

In the brief, confusing moments after which Miranda entered the medical bay, Shepard could feel her headache peek its head of its hiding spot again.

"Commander!"

"Miranda?"

"Shepard!"

"Mordin!"

"Drop the weapon!"

"Stay down!"

"Ah, super-soldier awake. Advice extreme caution!"

The resulting krogan-standoff made her feel like she was back on the Citadel again, chasing after Saren and his goons.

Miranda, armed with a pistol, aimed at the Chief, Mordin did the same with his omni-tool. Chief pointed a scalpel that Jane could have sworn had not been present in his vicinity at Miranda's face and Shepard found herself pointing her own omni-tool at Mordin's.

It was so unfair! Right when Cortana had gotten to the juicy part!

"How about we all stop aiming our guns at our friends, alright?" said Jane.

"Commander!" Miranda replied, clearly not viewing the Chief as a friend. "The Master Chief is augmented? By non-human parties? Has it crossed your mind that the only group capable of such surgical precision are the Collectors?"

Jane's patience was tested. And unlike Gatagog Uvenk, Miranda did not invoke correctly. "Mordin! What happened to doctor-patient confidentiality?"

"Never breached it! Operative Lawson deduced conclusions herself!"

Jane could growl at her Second-in-Command at this point. She nearly did. "It is not nice to listen in on people who have issues with keeping their thoughts inside their heads, Miranda! Especially not when your hearing is augmented as well!"

"Duly noted Commander, but the Master Chief has to be considered a threat until we can verify his origins!"

The Cerberus-augmented operative was having problems with the human-augmented Master Chief simply because his origins were different? This was way beyond petty jealousy. "Miranda, the Chief was about to explain his origins to me before you barged in here with your gun!" Shouted Jane. Biotic exhaustion weighed down on her emotional stability like a smothering carpet and she was finding it very difficult to control her anger. "If Doctor Chakwas hadn't ordered me to take it easy. I would have taken your gun and jammed it up your-"

"Shepard, misunderstanding regarding source of augmentations," interrupted Mordin. Just in time, too. "Operative Lawson concerned for your health, feared Master Chief's survival at Collector ship due to allegiance."

Shepard pinched the bridge of her nose with frustration. Simply making sense of a secondary evolution point of mankind was taxing enough. "Right. You know what? After Chief and I are done, and after he has recovered from his recent surgical procedure, you two can have a nice chat and then you can write a report to Tim. Until then, I recommend you turn around."

Miranda frowned and looked over her shoulder, coming face-to-face with Doctor Chakwas, who looked like she was ready to skin a Thresher Maw with a scalpel.

Now it was Jane's turn to feel smug.

The resulting conflict took Miranda, Mordin and Doctor Chakwas back to the operative's office next to the mess hall, leaving behind a confused Chief and a very exhausted Jane.

"If my presence here is a cause for conflict…" started the wounded soldier.

"Your best friend is a capital offense. Miranda being pissy is the last thing I worry about. She means well, but she has a gun up her ass that, ironically, makes her a good match for the turians."

Now that the coast was clear, Cortana reappeared again. It was a good thing that the interior of the medical bay could be polarized; Mordin figuring out about a non-Alliance AI aboard the Normandy would be bad for his heart. Him finding out at the same time as Miranda? The poor Doctor's heart would stop then and there.

"Where was I? Oh yes, UNSC home space beyond the impassable pirate regions. By our count, the year is 2553 or 2554. We're not sure."

Jane raised an eyebrow. "You installed yourself in my omni-tool in the time it took me to sneeze; how do you not know what year it is?"

Cortana glanced at the Chief. "There ehm…were complications. You see, when you found the Chief and I aboard the wreckage of the Forward Unto Dawn, we were kind of cut in half by a collapsing portal."

Jane reached out for her medicine, certain that she had missed the 'auditory hallucination' side effect. "A portal, huh? Mind explaining that one to me?"

Cortana smirked. "That's just the easy part. I've been skimming through the history of your species, Shep'. Your history is very different from ours, but your home system, sol? It's an exact match for ours. Of course, your gas giants are smaller and then there's the whole Element Zero thing…"

"Let's start at the beginning," said the Master Chief. He should have looked a whole lot less grumpy without his suit, but here he was, looking grumpy. It wasn't hard to figure out why though. If she understood it correctly, he had gone through hell on New Campton. Losing someone you promised to protect was something you never got used to.

Cortana looked at him for a few moments, looking anxious. "Are you sure you shouldn't rest, Chief? The Normandy crew barely managed to pull you away from death."

Jane looked back and forth at Cortana and John, wondering why a single soldier was paired up with an AI so advanced that she could pilot an entire Cruiser on her own, let alone a suit of powered armor. It struck her that Cortana's concern for the Chief was not really normal for an Artificial Intelligence. It was emotion-lead, not rational-led. Nothing wrong with that, but…an AI with genuine concern for a human? That was something she wasn't really sure about yet.

So if the two of them had such strong attachments to each other, what was she doing carrying Cortana around in her omni-tool? This was obviously a subject of importance to the Chief. She could always discuss this later, when he had recovered from his wounds.

"So what's the deal between you two?" She then asked. "How did an augmented super-soldier and an advanced AI get paired up together?"

Cortana sighed. "It's a…very long story."

Jane shrugged. "Can you let me in on it?"

~0~


UNSC Forward Unto Dawn

Unknown section of space

Operator Faredon whistled as he passed by the armory, where someone had very clearly cleaned shop. All the weapon lockers were empty, all the guns had been taken and even the last bits of ammo had been scraped off the ground. "Damn, this armory is big. How much soldiers did they need to arm?"

Operator Invidia wandered past him, holding a data-pad and looking unimpressed. "Can you stop complimenting the derelict human vessel, please? It's not that impressive."

"Not impressive?" replied Faredon. "Woman, you are standing on a human warship with armor rivalling that of a turian Heavy Cruiser."

Operator Invidia did not even bother look at her human partner. "So? From what the technicians have gathered, this tub lacks shields. How will it hold up to said Heavy Cruiser without kinetic barriers?"

"I don't think it even needs kinetic barriers with armor plating like this," countered Faredon. "Have you seen how thick it is?"

"Have you?"

"No, but our technicians did. It's thick."

"How thick?"

The operator glanced at his own data-pad. "Sixty centimeters. It increases the closer to the engines you get, up to 100 centimeters."

"Really? I mean…a ship doesn't just need armor!" said Operator Invidia. "The Destiny Ascension's main gun can rip through this ship's armor in no-time. What armaments does this vessel have?"

Operator Faredon shrugged. "Let me see…oh, that is right. It was cut in half vertically. Whatever sort of barrel was mounted at the front of the ship, we'll never figure out."

"Barrel? How do you mean?"

"This half of the ship is 150 meters wide and 130 meters high. Estimates at the total size were put at 400 meters. We found a structure that looks like a section of a railgun, starting near the back."

Operator Invidia grunted. "Four-hundred meters of railgun? Tsk…Humans…still no traces of Element Zero then?"

"No. Nothing; our technicians are still working on getting the power back online. The command bridge is nowhere to be found, most likely belonging to the other half of the ship. What we have here is the aft section."

"A ship of this size can theoretically oppose the Council's ships," said Operator Invidia. "What about the engines? No Element Zero means no Mass Effect drive."

"We found four structures near the engines of the derelict, at the back. Two large, two small. "

Operator Invidia nodded at that and returned her focus to her own data-pad. "Still no data as to what this thing actually is…"

"What do we know? Apart from the fact that it slaughtered the asari that attempted to whisper it away, of course."

"Well, the Broker seems to think that we aren't the only ones after this thing. The Justicar Order has been stirred up like a hornet's nest. Apparently, someone is trying to get to Tevos."

"The asari Councilor? I always like Tevos…"

Operator Invidia snorted. "You would, wouldn't you?"

"Well, Sparatus is too skeptical and Valern is an ass."

"Skeptical? You mean you believe that story about the Reapers?"

"You don't?"

Operator Invidia rolled with her eyes. Fruitlessly, as operator Faredon couldn't see that through her helmet. "Of course I do. Some human woman appears in front of the Council, foaming and screaming something about an armada of sentient machines coming to kill us purely because the geth had a flagship? What's not to believe."

"I'm no stranger to sarcasm, Invidia"

"Good. Then let us drop this mindless conversation and get to the point."

"You mean the Citadel?"

"Indeed. Judging by Shepard's profile, she will take it straight to the Citadel."

Operator Faredon sighed. "Don't tell me that the order is actually planning something?"

"I hope not. Their Huntresses didn't fare well the first time."

"Well, let us be fair here. Those Huntresses probably weren't the baddest of asses."

"Baddest of asses? Why must you humans insist on using such illogical explanations? They were but maidens. The next time, the serpent won't be wasting young asari lives."

"Unless she wants to disgrace Shepard."

"Unless she wants to disgrace Shepard. Then she will be wasting human lives."

Suddenly, the ship seemed to power up, as the lights flickered a few times and then stayed on, bathing the hallways in a pleasant light.

"What do you know, the technicians got this tub working."

What was less pleasant to the two operators was the voice that suddenly boomed through the ship's interior speakers. "This is UNSC AI Serial Number CTN0452-9. If are hearing this, you must have reactivated the power. That means you have about five minutes to get out of this vessel before the reactors self-destruct. If you happen to be Covenant, allow me to translate this to your dialect. Blarg blarg blarg…dead."

Faredon and Invidia looked at each other. Their translators had perfectly processed that particular message.

"How very ominous."

"Did that thing just say AI?"

"I would suggest we take our leave for now."

"Gee, you think?"