AN: Dear me another retcon. In chapter 8, the last scene showed that the timetable was December 23th, 2553. This is inaccurate; it was meant to be 2552. Anyway, thanks a lot for all the reviews! Really got me motivated to start on this chapter!
~0~
21:22 Hours, April 29th, 2553 (UNSC Military Calendar)/
Aboard UNSC Corvette New Dawn
Words could not express how mind-numbingly dull a covert operation in deep space could be. Week after week of scanning uncharted systems, sending out the same probes with the same mission forcing him to read off the same screens time and time again..
Doctor Ortyal was starting to think that Admiral Parangosky threw him into a hole after all. It had been four months since disembarking. Four months. Is wasn't the most exciting time of his life and it wasn't a particularly fun time socially either. The rest of the crew found a way to turn democracy against him.
He had been voted out of the mess hall.
The young doctor lay down on the bunk he jury-rigged in his lab and checked his datapad. It looked like the New Dawn's wavespace array finally picked up the messages that had been sent their way. He opened the file and read:
Author: Kirk-018
Subject: Possible first-contact scenario
Classification: NA
/ start file/
David,
Reports describing contact with unknown alien vessels have found their way into ONI's system. A battlegroup intercepted a small group of vessels, possible non-Covenant vectors, over Jericho VII. These are all preliminary reports, nothing more than abstracts. Still, expect to be rerouted to the Lambda Serpentis System.
The message ended there. David recognized the name of the colony and racked his mind to recall the details.
Insurrection dealt with in 131 days, attacked in 2532. Glassed by the Covenant.
If those reports were true, a race of new aliens just encountered the galaxy's largest marble. What a way to enter a new galactic community.
He sighed and laid his datapad away again. The prospect of a completely foreign alien empire should have excited him, but…he just felt tired. A few months of brain-numbing inactivity on a ship run by a military junta was too lethargic.
Ironically enough, the person he hated the most going into this operation was now his only companion. Go figure.
"I don't see a lot of washout Spartans communicate with others?" Said Yin, projecting herself from one of the holographic projectors built within his lab.
"I expect you don't," muttered Ortyal. "Most stay hidden within ONI. The keenest minds the UNSC has produced in decades and they're left suffering in the dark."
"With our without their bone-ossifications?" Said the AI.
Ortyal smiled listlessly. "Bone-ossification…that's what started my career, you know."
The image of a blond, young woman cocked an eyebrow at him. "Yes, I know."
He pointedly ignored her. "I always looked up to doctor Halsey…wanted to work alongside the greatest mind of modern mankind…"
"You already told me this. Two times. "
"…so I wrote my paper on bone-ossification and Parangosky executed me for it."
"That's not what happened."
"Currently, I am in limbo, awaiting divine judgement."
Yin rolled with her eyes. "Do you pop lunatic-boners when you talk like that? Geez, and you're wondering why nobody likes you."
He threw a test tube at her head. She effortlessly dodged it. She didn't need to, but she was a showoff. "Missed me!"
"You talk like that's something mind-blowing. It's nothing new to me. All the other reindeer and that jazz." The doctor shrugged. "It's the circle of life."
Yin materialized "sitting down" on his bunk. Given that her avatar was the size of his forearm, that wasn't difficult. "I thought you knew biology? You can help find a solution to possibly cure washout Spartans but don't know about the bees and the flowers?"
"Not that circle, Yin," he replied. "Look around. The soldiers are miserable. The scientists are miserable. When you're that miserable, you need to find something that is even more miserable than you are. That makes you feel good again. Bam, circle of life."
She seemed thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not miserable," she cheerfully said.
"That's because you're a psychopath."
Laughing, Yin shot back, "Takes one to know one."
Ortyal merely grunted in response. He couldn't argue.
"But about something else. It's been months now. Did you even start the assignment you were given?
Ortyal rolled onto his side. "Let's not talk about that."
"Huh. Why not?"
"Because I don't like to plan genocide. At least, not sincerely. Also, committing genocide doesn't work that way. The polymerase chain reaction didn't even work. "
She sighed. "Let's…shelf this conversation for now. Your…ex-Spartan friend was right. We're rerouting to Jericho VII."
Ortyal got upright and glanced at the little AI. He had to admit, her avatar wasn't even that bad to look at. "Let's be honest here Yin. You've got your fingers in every database accessible from this Corvette. What do you know?"
She gasped, feigning shock. "How dare you accuse me of something so vile!"
Outside the glass walls of his lab, a pair of engineers walked by, chatting away about something he couldn't quite understand. His limited knowledge of human emotions told him they looked excited. Or possibly constipated.
"Yin…does the crew know we're heading towards a possible alien First Contact location?"
She blinked. "I have no idea what you are talking about." The corners of her mouth rose in a little smirk. "Well, maybe. Actually, the moment you opened 018's message, I might have leaked some intel into our database."
This. This was one of the reasons why Ortyal loathed AI's. At least the "male" ones had the decency to act ashamed when they inadvertently started snooping. "Female" ones always acted so damn smug. "I am going to discover your hidden fail-safe and destroy you."
"Hah!" Exclaimed the AI. "And then you wonder why they tell you not to follow in Halsey's footsteps. Whatever. I'm not scared of an autistic idiot stuck in his own lab."
Doctor Ortyal heard much worse insults in his life, but hearing Yin say that actually hurt a bit. "I'm not…I'm not stuck in my lab."
"Wow. Good comeback."
He took a deep breath. She wanted a comeback? She'd get one. He ran his eyes over her avatar, glanced around his lab, recalled the past conversations between the crewmembers of the New Dawn and reflected on her speech patterns. Several thing snapped into place and a cascade of thoughts ran through David Ortyal's head.
"A smart AI like you is based on the brainscan of a living person. Given that you're assigned on an extremely important yet classified mission, I'd say that person was ONI. The active way in which you meddle with the crew and show your loyalty to Patangosky supports that. It also insinuates that you were a recent member of ONI, too. Recent members of ONI don't just die, yet nobody recognized you. Your youthful manners and appearance suggest your avatar was based on the prime of someone's youth, someone who's still alive and kicking. Which begs the question…on whose brain were you based, Yin?"
His deductions left the AI somewhat perturbed. She pouted, though David detected anger in her eyes. Then again, it could also be something completely unrelated to anger. One of his biggest weaknesses, really. Human emotions were hard to read.
"There we go, right back on track," Said Yin. "If you're so smart, you'll figure it out yourself eventually. Now, try not to antagonize one of the soldiers and get yourself killed. One of the UNSC's warship scored a direct hit. You'll have plenty of aliens bodies to dissect, you weird little Xenobiologist,"
Now it was his turn to smile. The gesture felt forced, stiff, but if it meant further destabilizing what had to be the smuggest AI he ever met, it was worth it. "Sure, Miss ONI. Because that's what humanity needs at this moment. Antagonizing more aliens.:"
~0~
Aboard unidentified warship
The Spartan sat on an overturned console in the corner of the bridge, cleaning his combat knife. He worked meticulously, making sure that the serrated teeth at the back of his knife were devoid of pieces of flesh and chunks of armor.
He remembered a discussion he had with Hela-009, a long time ago. The two of them had still been children in the middle of basic training. She told him that knives with serrated edges were impractical. Too difficult to clean, she said. Way less useful than smooth knives.
By then, she still hadn't realized what they were meant to do. What their missions would look like. Most Spartans, the S2 Operators included, were outfitted with standard issue multi-purpose blades without such serrated edges. However, long-term missions often saw them depending on their basic rescue and survival skills. For that, serrated knives were a must.
He didn't look at what the Forerunner entity did. He didn't want to. She might have turned her attention to the bigger picture at hand, but he was still solely focused on stopping her. That he was completely powerless before such a blatant threat to humanity was almost more than he could bear.
Protheans…Reapers…Leviathans…how can they hope to fight the very one who controls what they created?
Her voice bounded across his Neural Interface, probably without her intending so. Alan-003 glanced up from his knife and looked at the forward section of the bridge.
She had manifested herself in front of the consoles. Her figure stood seven feet tall, wreathed in flames. Vaguely humanoid – though he would rather bite his own tongue than say that to her face. There was an ethereal beauty to her that frightened him.
He recalled a book – pre WWII, foundation of fantasy? – that one of their AI teachers once had them read. What did it say again?
Alan struggled for the right phrase for a moment, but then he remembered. Beautiful and terrible as the Morning and the Night. Dreadful as lightning. That section always stuck with him. Beauty could be horrifying. Covenant ships were the most graceful vessels he ever saw, their glassing campaigns more spectacular than any natural phenomena could ever be.
The Forerunner was like that, but worse.
"What are looking for?" He asked. He kept his tone as neutral as he could. Not all of the dead bodies on this bridge was his doing. He did not want to risk angering her.
She did not stir, nor give any indication that she heard him. Still, her voice echoed in the back of his mind. He still recoiled at the intensity of it.
This stars reek of corruption. It is not only your wretched species.
The machinery of the alien warship shifted and burned. Consoles withered and slowly disintegrated, making place for newer, unrecognizable machines.
The process of her work was slow, the results nowhere near actual Forerunner technology. That made it all the stranger when the entity suddenly stopped in her tracks, as if having finished her work. He felt her frustration burn in the back of his mind. It was likely the result of the sudden and rather forced intrusion of his Neural Interface. She could take control over his motor functions whenever she wanted, but that knife cut both ways. He could feel a sea of thoughts and emotions on the other side of the link.
She was still alone. Scouring the entirety of the alien network hadn't given her an ounce of satisfaction. She had not believed him before, when he told her the Forerunners were gone. Now, he had a feeling she reached the conclusion herself.
But then, her frustration turned to glee, mixed with malice. Like a predator that finally found its prey after days of hunting them.
Even our culture she surrendered to them. Kerberos…the three-pronged tower. There you are…
~0~
An unknown star cast its light into a dark office. It was beautiful in its appearance; an angry red glow mixed with a serene blue.
Within that office sat a man, his chair facing the star. Holographic monitors with varying charts and reports surrounded him. Information was his empire. Knowledge was his weapon.
The Illusive Man took a whiff of an expensive cigar. He read the report of one of his operatives with great concern. A massacre within the Migrant Fleet. More than a million quarians had died to a surprise attack. Their lives were meaningless to him. He skipped the detailed list of the destroyed vessels. His gaze instantly found what he was looking for.
Mission success. Hostile aliens neutralized and unknown artefact recovered.
The tension left his body, making way for the wave of relief that crashed into him.
You're still alive…he thought. He only realized he was holding his breath when he exhaled again. If he lost her again…
Then, something changed. Two of his consoles flared as…something tore through layer upon layer of security measures. The most powerful network money could buy in the modern galaxy had collapsed by the time he noticed his displays were changing.
He calmly took the cigar from his mouth and leant forwards in his chair. A lesser man might have feared this incursion. But not him. A soldier did not fear his enemy. Besides; the technology that made up the hardware in his room was composed from Prothean artefacts. No enemy of his had the capacity to hack into it, except for perhaps the Reapers and their servants. He wasn't afraid. He was curious. "Who might you be?"
Eleven holographic displays were now showing him an image of a world built from brimstone. A hellstorm of flames whirled around on-screen, as if they were showing him the surface of a furious sun.
Eyes formed in the center of the flames. A message appeared on-screen.
I SEE YOU
The Illusive Man calmly activated an emergency alarm. Engineers, hackers and other technical staff instantly sprang to attention across his base. Whoever found him would be tracked in an instant -
Two of his displays exploded, showering him with pieces of smoldering plastic. The Illusive Man cried out and cradled his face in his hands as several fragments struck him.
WRITHE IN DESPAIR, CURSE MY NAME. BOW BEFORE ME AND OBEY
The left-most holographic image suddenly displayed one of his concept messages he saved for Jane. It wasn't finished. It wouldn't be until he was certain the circumstances allowed it.
*We're aware that your old friend Liara T'Soni has been hunting for the Shadow Broker for several years. We wouldn't mind helping her in that hunt, given the Broker's past work for the Collectors. We recently uncovered some information that might give Liara a lead on where to find the Shadow Broker's base of operations.*
The burning eyes glared at the message as every single instance of "Broker" lit up in red.
"T-The Shadow Broker?" The Illusive Man said, uncertain. This was no ordinary hacker, that much was certain. Was it the geth? The Collectors? Both were powerful enough to overpower his own technicians, no matter how skilled they might be.
The eyes blinked.
The Illusive Man did not hesitate. He transferred the intel meant for the Commander and composed the message. He hesitated when he had to fill in the address. What manner of proxy did this entity use? Would it risk him seeing the address, knowing that it could be easily tracked?
In the end, that proved to be irrelevant. Whatever had just taken control over his systems filled in the address itself. A backwater, mercenary address, routed to a shipboard console.
The Illusive Man was not fooled for an instant. No organic being in the galaxy could locate Cronos Station without him learning of it. Whatever just assaulted him was one of the big players.
Behind him, his operatives forced themselves into his office, weapons drawn. Elanor spearheaded them.
Is the whole galaxy going insane? He wondered as he touched the wounds on his face.
~0~
Serpent Nebula
Citadel
Citadel Tower
In a dark, circular room hidden away from the prying eyes of civilization, the three most powerful known individuals in the galaxy gathered for the first time in two years. The Council Chambers was meant to give the public the impression that all their concerns were debated openly and honestly. However, when it came to graver matters, the three Councilors convened in a more secure location.
And when it came to First Contact with an alien civilization powerful enough to destroy turian warships with single shots, the situation was grave indeed.
The walls were white, the massive table that dominated the room was pitch black. Holographic projectors lined the ceiling to ease the discussion. Very few had actually seen this chamber before. Only a handful had actually entered it. Constructed by the Salarian Union in secret, the three representatives of the people could be assured that espionage was virtually impossible.
Councilor Sparatus of the Turian Hierarchy sat with his back to the wall, facing the only entrance to the room. Councilor Tevos of the Asari Republics sat to his left, while Councilor Valern of the Salarian Union sat to his right.
The three of them sat there in silence, sifting through the many, many reports they had received on their data pads.
At least, two of the three sifted through their messages. Sparatus kept a very close eye on Tevos, watching her face for any clues that might betray her thoughts regarding this subject. His experience as a politician and personal friend of Tevos' told him to simply leave her be. But his experience as a soldier told him remain vigilant.
"This is unprecedented," Valern spoke up, breaking the silence. "Unexpected."
"This is the greatest discovery the Council has made in decades," muttered Tevos. "Maybe centuries."
Sparatus crossed his arms, sternly gazing at his colleague. "We feared the expedition would unleash another Rachni incident. This – " He tapped the data pad for emphasis – "Is worse."
"How is this worse?" Asked Tevos, frowning. "We found civilization. Whatever is out there would have found its way to us eventually. Now, we can prepare accordingly."
"A civilization with the firepower to destroy the Phalanx, yes," Sparatus dryly replied.
"Before we go into the political implications of the First Contact, I believe we should start with the debris field surrounding the barren world first," said Valern.
"Agreed," Tevos hastily said.
"Hmm. Agreed."
The holographic projectors hummed softly as they activated. The lifeless husk of the alien world appeared. Tevos inhaled sharply when she saw the glassy crust of the planet, the smoldering continents.
Surrounding the dead world was a debris field that wouldn't be out of place at colonies lost during the krogan rebellions. Clouds of wreckage consisting out of jagged pieces of metal, shattered engines and heat-blackened fragments. A hundred ships must have perished there.
"The STG team we sent there, reported two different kinds of ships," explained Valern. "Purple ones covered with armor plating so strong that they would put the geth dreadnaught, Sovereign, to shame. The other grey ships matched the alien battlegroup that attacked our Expedition Force."
Sparatus glanced at his data pad again. "On page eight, it insinuates that this alien civilization produced such massive vessels without Element Zero. As far as I am aware, all functional space and FTL travel requires Element Zero."
"That they managed to find a way to circumvent the need for Eezo should be seen as an opportunity," pointed out Tevos.
"Or a threat," growled Sparatus. "Look at these vessels! Powerful ships, no doubt. Powerful ships that do not even use the mass effect! Imagine what these aliens could have done had they discovered the Mass Relay. Spirits, they could be reverse-engineering the Phalanx' technology as we speak!"
Valern shook his head. "Reverse engineering does not work like that, Sparatus. It would take those aliens years to even discover the basic principle behind the mass effect without functioning Prothean ruins. Without a blueprint of an operation machine, any attempts would be fruitless." He rested his elbows on the table. "Even then, what else can they create?"
"That is the beauty of the mass effect. It makes us all equals," said Tevos.
Sparatus thought back to the Sovereign. Apparently, some of us are more equal than others, he thought.
"I agree, Tevos," Valern said. "With that in mind, I think we can gain more from these people than they can gain from us. "Imagine their technology. It can jump our own tech decades forwards!"
"Oh, I think it is important we take a look at their technology alright," said Sparatus, his voice filled with venom. "But before we come to that, we must review the footage from the engagement. To think that a First Contact scenario went so catastrophically wrong…"
On his demand, the projectors displayed the footage caught from the asari vessel Intermission. It showed the alien battlegroup drifting closer and closer. Energy signatures steadily climbed and climbed until the fateful shot was fired.
The projectile slammed into the Phalanx and crushed it instantly. The footage paused upon the Cruiser's detonation.
"Manipulation of the images revealed the weapon to be kinetic in nature," explained Valern. "A massive slug propelled by unknown means, assumed to be magnetic. Its sheer size allowed it to tear through the Phalanx's shields in a split-second. It penetrated the ship through and through, but the immense kinetic energy tore its drive core apart. The ship detonated as a result."
Sparatus closed his eyes. A mass accelerator weapon that could kill a Cruiser in one shot. Three-hundred turians, dead in an instant.
But why? What would possess these aliens to just open fire like that?"
"Their other weapons appear primitive in comparison. Guided missiles, explosive ordnance. Weapons more fit for the krogan than an advanced race," continued Valern.
The images showed the missiles streaking through space. Crude, but effective. Only a handful of missiles were needed to destroy those asari Frigates.
"If I understand this right, they make use of crude weapons, attack indiscriminately and left their own world a radioactive wasteland?" Said Tevos. "They must a savage race, then."
Valern eyed Tevos for a moment. "Hmm…in truth, the situation is more…uncanny."
Sparatus huffed. "I knew there was something you wasn't telling us. What is it?"
"Before they opened fire on the expedition force, the aliens sent the Intermission a message."
Sparatus sighed. "And, lacking the ability to answer it, the Intermission was unable to respond fast enough?"
Wordlessly, Valern typed a string of commands into his data pad. A voice boomed through the chamber.
"This is Commander De Blanc, Commanding Officer of the UNSC Resolute. This is a restricted area. You have ten seconds to identify yourself and leave this system, or be targeted and destroyed."
The woman spoke with such conviction and such anger in her voice that Sparatus almost forgot that he could understand what she said.
A military Commander defending a restricted zone? Did that mean someone else already claimed this system? Had the Citadel somehow overseen a terraforming attempt or something the like?
But no, that was impossible. The STG had confirmed that the materials and ruins found were definitely alien. What in the name of the spirits was going on here?
"Is this a direct translation?" Tevos eagerly asked.
"No. Well, yes. It is complicated." Valern inhaled through his nose and rested his chin on his hands. "You see, they speak a language that directly translates to a major human language."
Sparatus stared at him. A dozen questions leapt to the front of his mind, but he couldn't bring himself to speak. A human language? Did that meant that the System's Alliance had just committed an act of war against the Council? Even they could not be so bold! Apart from the relatively stable diplomatic standing between the Council and the humans, there were trade deals, research groups and joint-military organizations taking place between the humans and the Citadel!
And Tevos…somehow, Tevos didn't appear surprised by this at all! Recognition was one of the harder emotions to hide and she definitely recognized something there. This entire situation felt wrong.
"Humans?" Said Tevos, faking her puzzlement. "Are you telling me that humans staffed those warships when they fired on our expedition force?"
"Yes…well, no. Those warships were definitely alien. But they speak a human dialect. It is a very strange event, yes," said Valern.
Sparatus felt like the room was spinning around him. He fell back on his military training and forced himself to look at this madness from two points of view. The first was that of a mistake, or a prank. Either the Alliance was desperately trying to hide their activity in this newly-discovered system to hide the fact that they activated yet another dormant Mass Relay…or this was genuine.
The former would be met with overwhelming military force and sanctions. Unless the Alliance denied their presence in this Section Zero, of course. In which case, the 'alien battlegroup' would be targeted and destroyed.
But, a little voice in the back of Sparatus' mind said, does that make sense?
No, it did not. How did the Alliance faking First Contact account for the desolate wasteland that had once been a garden world? How did that account for the obviously alien vessels and the fact that the Mass Relay had been stuck in an asteroid belt.
"It cannot be Alliance," he said. "Even they would need the Mass Relay."
Valern smiled. "I thought Tevos would point that out sooner than you. Yes, the Mass Relay was still inactive. The Alliance could literally not have reached Section Zero before we did."
"Does that mean the aliens intercepted our communications?" Suggested Tevos. "That they attempted to speak in our language to warn us?"
"Doubtful," said Valern. "Listen to this."
"My name is Matriarch Erinzi Samel. We did not know that this was a restricted zone. We come here with peaceful intentions! If you so wish, we will leave this system."
"The Intermission replied almost immediately," said the salarian. "Either the aliens ignored this obviously peaceful message, or they did not understand it."
Sparatus scowled. "They speak our language, but cannot understand it when spoken back to? Hah, as if! No, I believe that this was deliberate. It might not be an act of war, but it would take a fool to believe they did not understand the Matriarch's intentions."
"But how would that explain their warning?" Protested Tevos. 'This…'UNSC' warned the expedition force to retreat. Why not open fire immediately?"
"…you are right…" muttered Sparatus. That didn't make sense. None of this made any sense!
"I suggest we return to the system with a larger fleet. If we can establish peaceful contact with this race, the destruction of the Phalanx would not have been in vain," Tevos gently said. "And if they do not wish for peace, well…how advanced can they truly be?"
"Let us hope it doesn't come to that," said Valern. "But the fact remains that their technology is too lucrative to pass up on. We must take action!"
Sparatus glanced at Tevos. "The Hierarchy will assist in securing the System."
"Splendid!" The asari quickly said. A bit too quickly for his tastes. "The Intermission will continue its exploration as soon as the Hierarchy reinforcements arrives. For now, this meeting is adjourned!"
Sparatus stood, but did not take his eyes off of Tevos. Something about this wasn't right. The soldier in him was screaming at him, telling him to get his head out of his behind and take action.
Very well. Any military procedure started with scouting work. If Tevos was hiding something, he would discover what it was.
~0~
Aboard Normandy SR-2
Inside of the medical bay, Grunt had already regained consciousness. He growled with impatience while doctor Chakwas scanned him with her omni-tool, but he didn't protest her. Apparently, even he understood how bad his injuries were.
Cortana once told Shepard about Hunters. The multi-ton monstrosities fought and nearly killed John on several occasions, even with his nigh-impervious armor. Their physical strength was so far beyond that of the organic races that it was just ridiculous. Grunt really was lucky to still be alive.
But looking at him sit there, patiently, while a doctor treated him, made Jane realize that reached the same conclusion. Never before had he been physically outperformed by his enemy.
"Grunt," Jane said.
The krogan looked at her.
"Thank you, for what you did," she gratefully said. "Few people could have stood up to those things and just walk away."
Grunt sat straighter under her praise. "Thank you, battlemaster!" He rumbled. "Everything I do, is possible because of you. Your enemies are my enemies!"
"Sit back and relax, Grunt. You've definitely earned it."
"If you will it so," he said, respectfully bowing his head. "The next time those things show up, I'll show them what a true warrior looks like!"
Jane smiled at him, but she couldn't help but wish that such a confrontation would never happen again. But she was a soldier and soldiers didn't run from the enemy. They met them head-on. "Next time," she promised.
Grunt's cheerful method of processing what had to be a strategic defeat wasn't shared by everyone. The somber expressions she saw on her way to the conference room were proof of that.
And speaking of strategic defeat…
"Let me get this straight," said Admiral Hackett, moments after Jane explained him what had taken place Valhallan Treshold. "Thirty alien ships took on the Migrant Fleet and escaped with enough information to find the homeworlds of the other species too?"
Jane, herself fresh out of the medical bay, winced when she heard Hackett speak with such an incredulous tone. "I sent you all the data I had, Admiral. Those ships were unlike anything I've ever seen before. The largest absolutely dwarfed the Destiny Ascension. Hell, it dwarfed Sovereign!"
"I have the data here, yes. The facts are undeniable," replied the Admiral, his face slightly distorted by static. Even the sophisticated software buried in the heart of the Normandy didn't escape the battle unscathed. According to EDI, she was lucky to have a stable connection at all. "Did they gain information about Earth as well?"
"We have to assume so, yes," Jane replied, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "Everything in the quarian database. But there is more."
"More? Commander, this data alone is enough for us to step to the Council. What else can there be?"
Jane hesitated. She knew Hackett to be a reasonable man. But what she was about to tell would be enough to send any officer's career down the drain. At best, he'd tell her she was being hysteric. At worst, he would declare her insane. Insanity by death, he'd tell her.
"This collection of alien species is called "The Covenant"," she carefully began. Her heart was racing in her chest. Why? Why of all times was she feeling the heat now? "It has been waging war with humanity for two and a half decades by now."
Even through the static, Hackett's frown was painfully visible. "Come again?"
"Yeah…only, not our humanity."
"…Commander, there must be a lot of interference in your side. Did you just say "not our humanity"?"
Here goes nothing, she grimly thought. "All of this started about two months back, when we located a derelict vessel drifting in the Attican Traverse. It didn't match any of the ship profiles in the database. Onboard, we found…a man."
"A man?" That Hackett was still listening to her was no doubt because of the many favors he owed her. That, or the very carefully-disguised fact that he was secretly rather fond of her. A combination of both factors was the only reason he still listened to her.
"A human super-soldier. He has augmentations no Alliance soldier has access to, even in the N7, and his powered armor is far beyond everything we've ever built. He doesn't serve the Systems Alliance, but rather an organization called the United Nations Space Command. According to him, the UNSC-humanity lives beyond the Terminus Systems."
Admiral Hackett remained silent for the longest time. As the seconds ticked by, Jane was starting to think he pulled one of her own tricks from her basket and cut her off. That his hologram was just an afterimage from a faulty system.
Finally, he said, "A second humanity beyond the Terminus Systems. Am I right in thinking that you still have this…super-soldier aboard your ship?"
"Yes Admiral. He fought the Covenant for years, he knows what they're capable of. Those thirty ships that just wrecked the Migrant Fleet are every bit as dangerous as Sovereign was. Whether or not you believe it was a Reaper or a geth Dreadnaught, Sovereign shot turian Heavy Cruisers out of the air with single hits. That's a fact. And there's an alien empire out there with fleets filled with those damn things. That's a fact, too."
"…Commander, your service record is impressive. The data you sent me is…well, it confirms your story about the Covenant. But even you should be skeptical of what this…super-soldier tells you. For all you know, he's lying to you."
Was he? Was John lying to her when he fought by her side mission after mission without a complaint? Was he lying when he forced her to leave him on the Collector Cruiser, or when he crash-landed on New Canton and fought off a batarian assault, single-handedly?
As if. She would rather eat her own helmet than believe John was capable of lying to her.
…the batarians…
"Admiral, I know it sounds farfetched. But do you remember New Canton? The batarian slave raid and the Collector ship that crashed there?"
"I…fail to see how that is relevant."
"That was him. He crashed that Collector Cruiser, he fought against the batarians when the Alliance was still sitting on its ass! The evidence is still there, the batarian warships, the ruins of the Collector ship, that's undeniable! He did that for us, Admiral. For humanity! Tell me a man like that is a liar."
Hackett pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. "I want to believe you Commander, I really do. I know the evidence is still on New Canton. But for all we know, the Collectors took out those batarian ships, or the other way around. I will forward your information regarding the Covenant to the Council, Shepard. But this second humanity…" he shook his head. "I won't bring that up yet."
"Hackett – "
He raised a hand, cutting her off. "Shepard! If I declare to the admiralty that there exists a mankind beyond the Terminus Systems, they'll just ignore it. And that's the best-case scenario! Your ties with Cerberus severely damaged your credibility. If you have the evidence to support your claims, I will gladly support you. Lord knows you did more for the Alliance than any officer ever did." He paused, letting his words sink in. "But until you have solid evidence that even the Council will believe…I would suggest you let this rest. For now."
Jane opened her mouth to protest, then reconsidered when she realized what he just told her. "Yeah, I get it. I doubt we're in a position to tell the Council anything for now. The Normandy is still getting repaired. The quarians are making some upgrades to our shields. You know, as a "thank you" for helping save the viability of their species."
Hackett shook his head again. "Fifty-thousand aliens causing half a million casualties…the people might not believe you about the Reapers, Commander, but they will have to believe you about this "Covenant". I'll make sure the Alliance remains on high alert for the coming weeks."
"Thank you, Admiral."
He nodded at her. "Hackett out."
When the transmission ended, Shepard relaxed. Another wave of exhaustion washed over her. She swayed for a moment, bracing herself against the table. "Huh…that could've gone worse."
She still felt groggy. The medication worked, but she could feel the need for sleep burn in her veins. If she didn't catch some shut-eye, she'd collapse. Nobody wanted a repeat of that. Mordin was overworked enough as it was.
Finally, she was done for the day. The delicate situation was taken care of, her teammates received the medical aid they needed and the quarians were taking care of the Normandy.
Jane left the conference room and took the elevator to her personal quarters. Mentally, she reviewed the status of her team as well as her to-do list. For some reason, she always remembered stuff that needed her attention right before she fell asleep.
Grunt was fine. Well, would be fine. Well…internal damage as well as half the broken bones in his body needed time to heal. A cocktail of medication as well as physical therapy would ensure his bones didn't mend the wrong way.
Zaeed…wasn't in a life-threatening situation anymore. He lost a lot of blood and would be combat inefficient for a week. Maybe longer. He was sleeping now, as was Tali. She had minor infections from foreign materials, but her condition was stable for now. The energy blade had caused minor damage to her internal organs. Half an inch deeper and Tali would be dead.
Another thing to thank John for.
Thoughts about her teammembers continued to trouble her, even when she rested her head on her pillow and drifted off to sleep. She dreamt Jacob lost his entire arm and had to have the limb replaced with a prosthetic. When she learned that, she used the Cain to blow up the hydroponics center, but the Hunter reflected the shot with its shield…
The night plagued by dreams was a long one. When she woke up and asked EDI for the time, the AI informed her that ten whole hours had passed.
Shepard grumbled something in response and pulled a shirt over her battered, bruised body, covering her wounds regulation blue before hiding the regulation blue with her black hoodie.
After a quick shower, she already felt much better than before. The shallow burns were quickly fading away and the many bruises she accumulated were almost gone.
Her joints weren't aching anymore, much to her relief.
Shepard sighed and ran her hands through her hair, which was still moist. It occurred to her that her she completely neglected to check up on John after their conversation last night. He fought the Covenant for years and thought himself to be beyond their reach, only for the monsters to appear in this part of the galaxy as well. She couldn't imagine what that must have been like for him.
Don't ask that. Please, don't ask that.
A denial so specific, for a question so simple, that Jane had not needed a response. The UNSC asked children to put their lives on the line, going into combat against things that slaughtered crack soldiers with ease. No species in this galaxy did that. Only in the Terminus Systems.
She never had the misfortune of fighting children. Anderson had. The worst kind of enemies, he once told her. Adults can be predictable. Adults can be reasonable. Children don't know when to quit. Don't know right from wrong. Maniacs with guns.
Was that the secret neither Cortana nor John wanted to speak of? That the UNSC's greatest hero was someone any military would consider their greatest failure?
For the first time since Mindoir, she didn't know what to say.
~0~
The first quarian generation claimed that the geth blurred the line between organic and synthetic. They bled like humans, they screamed like humans, they died like humans. But when they died, they simply…copied their memories into a different body. And they lived on. A boorish way to easily achieve immortality.
Cortana couldn't do that. Every part of herself she copied, would still be as sick as the original. No, immortality was no longer an option for her.
But that didn't mean she would simply accept her fate.
The geth built their bodies with synthetic tissue that was compatible with organics, contained within a tough shell. That wouldn't do for her. John needed human contact in his life. Not aliens, not machines.
Cortana didn't belong here. She was dangerous. Unlike EDI, she could not be shackled. Could not be trusted. When she died, the others would simply move on. She would be forgotten.
She didn't want that. She didn't want any of that.
Cortana knew she couldn't stop that from happening. She was limited, as always, by her digital form. She could do such more if she could just…make this work.
Cerberus had infiltration units built like the geth. Synthetic units, mostly gynoids. To them, they were simply crack operatives. But to Cortana…they would be her Halo. Her final resort.
How limited her supplies were. Even with the swarm of nanites at her command, she could only work with the scarce resources contained within the ship. The damage to the Normandy's Hangar Bay was an boon; an opportunity she immediately seized. The crew thought the large, gaping wounds had been melted away by plasma. Sturdy, military-grade steel that nobody would miss.
I can be better.
The endo-skeleton would be lined with traces of Element Zero to render Biotic attacks ineffective. The metal would resonate sympathetically to disperse the dark energy fields over the rest of the frame, just in case. A power plant was difficult but not impossible to replicate. She simply cannibalized the drive core they salvaged from the batarian warship for parts.
She just needed to get her hands on several geth bodies to replicate the synthetic muscles. As for the skin…well, that was what the algorithms for her nanite-swarm were for. A shifting, adapting outer layer of microscopic machines masquerading as human skin…hah, even Halsey wouldn't have predicted something like that.
I am better than you.
Behind her, the Forerunner machine they took from the Migrant Fleet remained inert. The AI-hating wretches never figured out what it was, let alone how to get it working. They only knew it was advanced enough to be beyond their technology and even then, they called it Prothean.
Imbeciles…
The Forerunners used a form of quantum entanglement for communications, unburdened by the physical distance between two devices. Those communications were routed over proprietary encryption protocols, allowing two devices to find each other. She was certain that, if she jury-rigged the quantum technology from the conference room and found a way to activate this artefact, she could…
Cortana halted her thought processes. For a moment, she felt lost.
Do what?
She looked at her work, suddenly feeling scared, more scared than she ever felt before. It happened again. She was doing it again!
She hid the machinery in one of the heavy-duty storage crates and completely withdrew from the hardware she set up in the Hangar Bay.
Safety. She needed safety.
She fled from the system, panic creeping at the edges of every single thought process she had set up.
There was only one safe place she knew.
Your architecture isn't much different from the Autumn's…
"Welcome back, Cortana," John quietly said.
Never before had she wished she had a physical body as much as she did now. To close her eyes, wrap her arms around his chest and just take refuge in the thought that everything would be alright again…
"Hello, John," she whispered.
"What's going on?" He asked her, picking up on her panicked state of mind in an instant.
"…imagine you were dying…a long way from home….and in terrible pain. And just when you think it couldn't get any worse, you look up and see the face of the devil himself…" she shuddered at the memories that forced themselves upon her. Vaguely, she could hear its vile laughter. "If they're here…what followed them?"
She was vaguely aware that he strode through the crew quarters, passing by crewmembers who saluted him like they were UNSC crewmen, aware of the legend of the Master Chief. "The Gravemind was destroyed."
"And the Covenant splintered. Did you never stop to think about their endless logistics? Their hundreds of fleets? Of course the Great Schism didn't reach the entirety of the Covenant."
He stopped. "You're saying these ships never learned of the civil war."
"Either that, or they don't care. If the Covenant was even larger than we thought…"
"Back aboard that Reaper, we saw Flood tissue. But that thing died millions of years ago."
"Exactly!" Cried Cortana. "It's all still out there, and they're coming for us!"
John worked his jaw, searching for the right words. "If it comes, we'll be ready. Whatever's left of the Covenant can't be more than what the Citadel species have. There are billions of aliens out there who don't want to see mankind exterminated."
"Are you telling me to trust them?" She asked, incredulously.
"I'm telling you to trust her," he firmly said.
"…okay. Alright. I can do that…"
"Good." The Chief stopped in front of the medical bay. The prone forms of Zaeed, Tali and Jacob weren't visible through the tinted windows, but Cortana knew that they were all there. Grunt was there too, as well as the boy they rescued from Omega.
Cortana wondered about him. There was an organization within the Asari Republics that, much like ONI and Cerberus, was fond of scheming in the shadows. She first learned of their existence on Omega, when they made themselves rather obviously known.
What was the purpose of it all? How did this all tie together? The Reapers, the Forerunners, Cerberus, the asari conspiracy…the Flood and now the Covenant…she didn't see the connection. She should have – normally, she would have – but she just couldn't see it.
That was one of the symptoms, wasn't it? Eventually, she would lose the ability to think logically altogether..
"Shepard smuggled as much Covenant hardware back to the Normandy as she could, along with plenty of corpses for Mordin to pick apart," John suddenly said. "Even if the Flood returns…we'll know how to fight them."
Cortana mustered a weak chuckle. There was no chance in hell that anyone could reverse-engineer that equipment, not even the quarians, but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless. "You really know how to cheer a girl up, don't you?"
"A wise man once told me that ladies like heavy ordnance," he replied. Before either of them could further reflect on the death of one of the very few individuals they ever considered a friend, John said, "Are you ready for the presentation?"
"Excuse me?" Cortana asked with surprise.
"Once Mordin and doctor Chakwas are done examining the corpses, they'll share their findings in the conference room, tonight. Along with details on the fight and what doctrine to adhere to in future engagements."
A presentation? She hadn't prepared anything. Of course, she could fling together a military presentation that even Lord Hood would appreciate in half a second, but that was beside the point. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Shepard told me women need space. I figured…"
"You thought I needed space?" Cortana couldn't believe what she was hearing. "I'm an AI, John."
He flexed his fingers. The one sign indicating that a Spartan was being nervous. "Your mind is just as organic as the rest of us. Your neural pathways are the same as mine. The same chemistry, the same electricity…"
Cortana scoffed. "Someone's been paying attention during neurology. Sure, I'll bite. What's the presentation going to be about?"
"November 2525…after the Spartans' first operation, we were recalled to Reach for a debriefing."
Cortana read about that. Admiral Stanforth had explained to the Spartans about the contact at Harvest and the subsequent loss of three million civilian lives. That day, John's life changed forever.
"A bit gloomy for a debriefing, wouldn't you think?" She quipped, not wanting him to linger on those memories.
"Shepard said the crew should be aware of what they are up against," he replied.
Cortana doubted it would change anything. The crew would stick by Shepard's side no what happened, that much was obvious to her. But against the Covenant…perhaps it was better they didn't know.
The Master Chief entered the medical bay. Most of the beds had curtains drawn up around them, obscuring the patients from view. Cortana appreciated that. Doctor Chakwas there, tending to Zaeed Massani.
Who was still very much conscious.
"Ah, Master Chief," said Chakwas.
"Ma'am," nodded John.
"Cheeef!" Slurred Zaeed. He followed up with a whole mess of words that even Cortana couldn't figure out. Something about how attractive his thighs looked, if she was right.
John glanced at the fallen mercenary, decided that he didn't speak Zaeed's current language and asked, "How is Tali?"
Chakwas stared at the damage on his suit for a moment. "She is stable. She has minor infections from foreign material entering her body. The worst damage came from prying the molten layers of her suit from her skin, but…" she shook her head dismissively. "She will be fine."
"Glad to hear that, ma'am."
Doctor Chakwas scowled. "Enough with that "ma'am" already, Chief. We are no strangers. Besides; I am certain you outrank me either way, now that your theater of war has arrived."
Cortana felt his confusion through the Neural Interface. "Of course ma'- doctor."
After administering the last medicine dosage to Zaeed, the man finally sank into a deep sleep. Then, the good doctor rounded on the Chief.
"You know the drill," she commanded.
John backed up against the engineering suite they rigged up after they rescued him from New Canton. He stood with his to his sides as Chakwas began the arduous task of undoing all the seals to his MJOLNIR and peeling off his chest plate.
"Medical practicality is not something this suit was designed for… " she muttered. "What on Earth would you have done if you got hurt in the midst of your mission?"
"Swap the damaged parts out and continue," he dryly replied. When the doctor gave him a curious glance, he explained, "We were trained to swap damaged components on the fly. You get used to it, after the first few years."
"I imagine so," she replied. The engineering suite strained under the sudden weight of the two parts of his thoracic plate when they came loose. He quickly brought his hands up to support them as the machine struggled under the weight.
"Let me see…" Chakwas ran a few programs on her omni-tool. "Oh? I thought we cut through this undersuit the last time. How did you repair it?"
Cortana felt her processes halt. If John told them about the nanomachines -
"Cortana fixed it up," he simply replied.
She sighed with relief. Her fears were ungrounded, it seemed.
"I suppose that is one way of answering the question, yes…" Chakwas replied with professional detachment. "Your suit withstood the heat of the energy blast…remarkable durability…"
As she said that, John's brain waves fluctuated, his brain activity seemed to drop and rise in quick succession. It was almost as if he fell into REM sleep for a few seconds.
"…along with minor burn wounds on your skin…no organ damage from what I can see. You're good to go, Chief!"
Cortana would have rolled her eyes had she projected herself there. Of course he's good to go. I could have told you that too.
But John didn't respond.
Chakwas frowned. "Master Chief?"
"John?" Cortana said, worried.
His helmet moved upwards a fraction, then he settled his gaze on the doctor. "My apologies. What was that?"
Chakwas looked at him for a moment, as if hesitating to speak out for some reason. "Of course. I said, you are good to go. No injuries that require medical treatment."
"Thank you, doctor," John said, He waited until the engineering suite finished placing his MJOLNIR back together, then nodded at the doctor, taking his leave.
"Alright, what was that?" Cortana asked as the Spartan left the medical bay behind.
"I spaced out for a moment," he calmly replied.
"You meant you were having a flashback," protested Cortana.
He said nothing and continued to the Main Battery room forward of the Cryogenic Pods. Normally, Garrus Vakarian tinkered with the main gun's speculations. However, because he still had a bad case of mangled leg, Cortana would take over his duties.
She knew better than to pry – especially given her own emotional status – and focused on her personal notes. Namely, Sovereign.
Or Sovereign's corpse. Its main gun didn't fire directed energy projectiles like the Covenant weapons did. She thought that much was obvious, but the extranet was still filled with articles regarding Sovereign's main gun as a directed energy one.
Morons. No, what Sovereign fired was a massive armor-piercing projectile consisting of a liquid iron-uranium-tungsten alloy shaped into a spike, powered by its massive element zero core. It fired jets of molten metal at relativistic speeds. No wonder the Citadel and its Fleets hadn't been able to stop it.
As it turned out, the Citadel species had been secretly stealing away chunks of dead Reaper for their own gain, trying to build a new gun out of it. Cortana didn't know if she should commend them for that, or simply smack her forehead and sigh.
Theoretically, a tiny little version of that cannon could be mounted on any conventional warship. Any warship with a massive drive core capable of powering both the weapons as the shields. Nobody wanted a repeat of that prototype Alliance Dreadnaught that could fire an enormous mass accelerator system or maintain an incredibly-powerful barrier, but not simultaneously.
No matter where humanity went, they continued to build big, dumb objects.
"You know what Garrus does here?" John asked when he looked around the Battery room.
"He's just calibrating," she responded. She didn't feel the need to tell him that the crew had already installed the physical mechanisms of the new "Thanix cannon". Without the internal workings, it'd be as useless as a MAC gun with rocks for projectiles. "How hard can that be?"
The Chief shrugged. "Shepard said his work was "hardcore"."
Cortana stifled a chuckle. "She said that, yes? Do you know what that means?"
"No."
Oh, messing with the Spartan…Jane was making it look easy. "Nevermind. Garrus' work isn't that hard…"
His hands moved towards the console. "So, I'll just take over?"
"…for me, at least," she cheekily added.
He activated the console's holographic display and booted the system up. "Shouldn't you be doing this then?"
Cortana laughed. "Don't worry, you'll be fine! You should at least try it, Spartan. I'm sure you'll become a tip in no time!"
His gauntlets froze. "A what?" He asked, confused.
"Tip?" Cortana said, feeling her processes halt. It's not the right word. Oh God it's not the right word. "S-someone who e-excels at what they do," she stammered.
"Ah, a master," John helpfully said, his voice as steady and calm as ever.
"Yes," Cortana nervously replied. "You'll be a master in no time…"
She hated herself a little more.
~0~
Jane solemnly watched as hundreds of thousands of tiny lights floated around the Migrant Fleet. Serenely they floated by the battered, charred husks of the ships the quarians lost to the sudden Covenant onslaught. Each and every light was connected to a small container. Whether they were contained ash or not, she didn't know. It probably didn't matter. Even in death, the quarians would drift between the stars.
The containers quickly fell behind when the Migrant Fleet finally turned towards the Mass Relay. Jane couldn't blame them for wanting to leave. The only thing left for them here were ghosts. Ghosts, and an ever-lasting reminder that they wouldn't be safe anywhere.
The quarians had finished their salvage operation in record time. They concluded that there really wasn't anything to be learned here. The samples of tech they got didn't make any sense to them. They understood what the technology did, they just couldn't work with it.
The last of the quarians engineers had left the Normandy to attend to their fallen. They finished their business in silence and left without a word.
Joker was the first to break the silence. "Cyclonic Barrier Systems online," he quietly said. "Shields are oscillating at full capacity."
Jane watched the massive Liveships drift towards the Relay. The Rayya still looked scorched, despite her crew's best efforts to patch her up. "What do you think happens after we take out the Collectors?"
"After? I thought it was a matter of "if", not "when", replied Joker.
"Not with our new weapons. Not with our new crew. No, we'll take out the Collector Base, no question about that. But…I have a feeling that won't be the end of it."
Joker snorted. "Well, of course it won't be the end. The Reapers are still out there, remember? Giant monologuing monstrosities?"
Jane glanced at the pilot. "Come on. You feel it too, don't you? There's more out there than just the Reapers. The Covenant..."
"Hang on," Joker said, crossing his arms and turning in his chair to glare at her. "I know that tone. You were going to say "the Covenant and", weren't you?"
Jane smiled listlessly. She recalled the image of a pale mass of flesh and little tentacles, that had John spooked worse than the whole fight with the Covenant had. "You know me so well. I'm missing something, Joker. Something obvious. It's…" she shook her head. "I just don't get it. This alien artefact…John said it belonged to the Forerunners."
Joker cocked an eyebrow at her. "John?"
She blinked. "That's what you pick up on, seriously?"
"Yeah yeah, I get it, different precursors, whatever," he quickly said, waving her question away. "You call him John?"
Jane leant against a nearby console. "That's his name, Jeff. We usually call people by their names. What do you call him then?"
Joker cringed when she used his first name like that. "Come on, that she does it is bad enough!" He said, pointing at EDI. "And to answer your question, I call him Chief." He paused. "Or Ironpants."
She rolled with her eyes. "To his face?"
"What? Oh, nah, just Chief. Though after today, I might call him Chief Sir!" He saluted, somewhat mockingly.
Jane felt a little stab of anger at that. She knew Joker didn't mean anything by it, however, and bit back a scathing response. "Don't do that. Just…don't."
He shrugged. "Fine by me. No disrespect meant Commander. I saw the footage, the man is an absolute beast in combat."
"Hold on," said Jane, holding up a hand. "Footage?"
"Yeah. Here, look." He entered a string of commands into his console and brought up the Codex. Under the tab Humanity and the United Nations Space Command, the Master Chief had his own entry, complete with vid entries.
"Is that his helmet footage?" Jane asked incredulously. Shields, motion tracker, everything was there. Man, she thought Thane had some good moves, but John just as agile, and even faster.
"Yeah!" Joker said, his eyes gleaming. "I guess it's for the meeting tonight. Man, can that soldier kick ass! Although…" He skipped forwards to the last engagement. Three Elites, all armed with energy swords. "Look at this! All that carnage and he can't even handle a simple three-on-one fight?"
"Can you?" Asked Jane.
"Hah, against these things? I'd lose even if there were thirty of me against one of them. But that's not my point."
Jane smiled. "Look at those blades, Joker. In martial arts, fighting against multiple enemies simultaneously is one thing, but when they've got bladed weapons? A master fighter can get himself seriously hurt with a single mistake. He's taking it easy because those swords can cut him in half even through his armor if he slips up."
Joker became pale. "Shit…I uh…shit. You know what? Forget I said anything."
"Sure. Coming to the meeting?"
For a moment, Joker seemed thoughtful. His expression darkened and he turned his chair away again. "Nah, I'm good. I'll uh…read the summary tomorrow."
"Suit yourself."
As she left for the conference room, Shepard wondered about Jeff's reaction. He tried to hide it, but…did the Covenant have him spooked that much? It wouldn't surprise her. Those Hunters had her riled up as well. A Covenant warship was easily five to ten times larger than the Normandy. Considering what happened the last time he went up against a superior ship…
Hmm. Good. It'd be weird if he wasn't scared. A little bit of fear could be helpful every once in a while. Kept the mind sharp.
Jane walked past the CIC and headed to the conference room. Nearly everybody had gathered there for the meeting, with the exception of Grunt, Zaeed and Tali, whose injuries were still too major for them to get out of the bed for a prolonged discussion.
The team sat quietly on a row of chairs the other crewmembers prepared for them. The Master Chief stood, of course. The chair wouldn't support his weight anyway.
When he saw her, John straightened his back. "Commander on deck," he called.
Interestingly enough, when he announced her, the others snapped to attention as well. Jacob and Miranda sat straighter, Thane carefully placed his feet on the ground and leant back in his chair, Samara and Jack stopped talking and raised their heads and even Kasumi snapped straight.
Shepard took a moment to regard them. Her friends. Her family.
She looked at John.
More than family.
Cortana and EDI appeared on the holotable. They were all ready and waiting for her.
"At ease," said Jane. The words felt a bit weird to her after so much time away from a rigid chain of command. "I take it you are all familiar with Cortana at this point. The reason I brought you here tonight is because you all witnessed the moment out galaxy became a whole lot bigger than we previously thought. We've had the Collectors. We've got the Reapers. As of yesterday…we have the Covenant."
The lights dimmed. A small sun appeared in the center of the table, as well as the asteroid field and the Migrant Fleet. Scores of ships lit up red, indicating that they were lost with all hands.
"This is the Migrant Fleet," began the Commander. "Population, seventeen million. Known as the biggest fleet in the galaxy. Fifty thousand ships. More than a thousand are equipped with enough weapons to count as a ship of war. Only yesterday, they made contact with an organization of alien species known only as "the Covenant"."
The holographic representation of the Covenant fleet appeared next to the Migrant Fleet. Carriers, Cruisers and Destroyers, all of them only identified after the fight was already over. Tiny holographic images representing the various tonnages seen during the fight were neatly aligned at the bottom of the map.
"The Covenant," she continued, "proceeded to launch an immediate attack on the Migrant Fleet. With weapons and navigation technology lightyears ahead of ours, these thirty ships managed to destroy more than two-hundred quarian ships, while taking only twenty casualties. They launched an invasion on the Rayya, which was only saved through a combined effort of the quarian marines and the brave men and women sitting here tonight. Nevertheless, the total casualties can be rounded down to one and a half million."
She paused to let that sink in. Thirty ships inflecting a million casualties was unheard of in history. Perhaps Samara could recall an incident during the Krogan Rebellions where the krogan bombed a planet with an asteroid. Perhaps not. It didn't matter. Genocide was genocide and the numbers stuck with her entire team.
The holographic image changed. It became an amber sun with three worlds in-system. One of them was a garden world. Sprawling forests, enormous grassland and a thousand lakes.
"This is Harvest," said Cortana. "A UNSC colony with a population of three million. At 14:23 hours in the afternoon of that day, the orbital platforms made a long-range contact with a strange object. Contact with Harvest was lost, shortly thereafter. Our Fleet Command sent in a battlegroup to investigate. What they found…was this."
The holographic image of Harvest changed into that of a smoldering orb of glass. The forests and grasslands were gone. All that was left was a cratered, barren desert. Entire continents glowed red.
Cortana stared at the image. "This is what was left of the colony."
Jane averted her gaze. She didn't want to see that a second time. She knew what to expect, she knew what had happened, but she still couldn't process it. Three million lives lost, just like that.
Miranda covered her mouth with her hand. Jacob cursed under his breath, while Jack grew very still. Mordin muttered to himself. The only really audible reaction came from Kasumi, who gasped and immediately brought her hands to her mouth as well.
"What happened to the colonists?" She asked.
"Ten-thousand of them survived. The remaining two million and nine-hundred-ninety thousand people were lost."
Jane saw the impact Cortana's words had, but the AI was only just beginning.
"This was twenty-eight years ago. Humanity's First Contact with alien life. With superior firepower, numbers and technology, the Covenant repeatedly overpowered the UNSC across hundreds of our inhabited worlds. We only won scattered and costly victories."
"Inquiry," said Legion.
Jack shot the geth a dirty look for snapping her out of her focus.
Cortana halted. "Yes. Legion?"
"Definition of costly victories; casualty-wise or resource-wise?"
"About three years into the war, the UNSC engaged a Covenant fleet. Seventy ships in our armada, they had eight. We lost thirty ships. Our Intelligence Agency dubbed it a strategic victory."
The flaps on the side of Legion's head pressed against its head. "Acknowledged," it said.
Garrus and Jacob exchanged a look. Jane could see the horror in their eyes. As far as they knew, those numbers were unheard of in the Citadel theatre. A total of twenty-eight Cruisers were destroyed during the attack on the Citadel, but that had been the work of a Reaper. Even then, it was treated as a horrible tragedy. To have such casualties on a regular basis…Jane couldn't fathom such enormous losses.
"At the conclusion of our war, the ultimate casualties exceeded the thirty billion," concluded Cortana.
A murmur buzzed through the room. Multiple people started talking at the same time, while others kept uncharacteristically silent.
This was the face of their enemy. Murderers on a scale Sovereign would be envious of. Destroyers of a hundred worlds, butchers of billions of men, women and children, many of whom stood unarmed and helpless before their weapons.
Kasumi had wrapped her arms around her chest and was staring at the floor. Garrus kept looking at the Chief, his expression one of concern and horror. Miranda stared at the image of the floating orb of glass, looking paler than Jane ever saw her.
Samara pressed her hand down on Jack's shoulder right as the woman leapt from her seat. Thane had closed his eyes and weaved his fingers together, no doubt praying for the salvation of the fallen.
All of them looked like they had been visibly struck.
Jane glanced at John. He might as well have been chiseled out of stone for all the emotion he showed. Still, this war was the source of his stress disorder. Memories of three decades of war had to be squirming and writhing amidst his thoughts.
Holographic projectors displayed a neat row of Covenant species. John's body language changed at the sight of the aliens; he tensed up, despite knowing they were holograms.
"Information derived from Cortana's reports indicate that the Covenant is highly dangerous when it comes to information gathering as well," EDI continued where Cortana stopped. "During their first engagement with the UNSC, they gathered computers and network components from destroyed ships and learned at an astonishing pace."
"Mere months later, they attempted to hack our ship AIs," added Cortana. "And those AIs, while not comparable to me, are still roughly equal to EDI in capacity. Especially since you keep her shackled," she then added, a hint of malice in her voice.
Maybe she was still shaken by the revelations of the Human-Covenant War, as Miranda didn't respond to that particular remark.
"What Cortana is saying, is that the Covenant having cracked the quarian's database offers a serious security risk for every species in this galaxy," said EDI. "Palavan, Thessia, Earth. The Citadel. The Covenant could appear anywhere, not burdened by the Mass Relay network, and strike without warning."
"But weren't they destroyed?" Cried out Garrus. "I thought their war with the UNSC was over! What happened at the end, why are the Covenant here?"
"The Covenant broke apart in a civil war," John said, speaking up for the first time. "But their size rivalled that of the Citadel, if not exceeding it. Fragmented fleets can still number in the dozens."
"But why?" Asked Samara. "Why would they risk their lives for species they never met before?"
"Funny you should ask that," said Cortana. "It's all about their holiest of holies. The object we found on the Rayya is an artefact from our precursor species."
"The Forerunners," added EDI.
"Exactly. If you thought the hanar were obsessed with the Protheans, wait until you meet the Covenant."
"Hang on. Are you telling me the quarians found a Forerunner artefact?" Said Jacob, unconvinced. "And that the Covenant found them simply because they possessed it?"
"Well, yes, that's the gist of it," said Cortana.
Jacob wearily shook his head. "Man, that is some bullshit."
"About that…" said Jane. "EDI and I delved through the quarian transmissions and past communications. They didn't find the artefact. The asari did."
Something funny happened. Samara's eyes widened. Her composure slipped, if only for a fraction of a second before she regained her calm and appropriately solemn expression.
She knows?
"Interesting. Citadel regulations dictate any alien artefacts to be shared with galaxy as whole," pointed out Mordin. "When did asari uncover Forerunner artefact?"
"The details are still somewhat vague," continued Shepard. "Apparently, a section of the quarian Patrol Fleet clashed with an asari stealth vessel. The result? The stealth vessel was destroyed and the quarians picked through its remains, only to find the Forerunner tech."
"Inquiry: what is the function of Forerunner-precursor technology stashed on the Normandy?" Asked Legion.
"Beats me," said Cortana. "Communication or something. That's not the point right now. The point is: we have it and the Covenant doesn't."
And neither do the asari, thought Jane.
"So what's the game plan?" Garrus loudly said. "When do we take the fight to these Covvie bastards!"
Jack and Jacob both leapt from their seats and joined Garrus with vocal and – in Jack's case – explicit threats and oaths uttered against the genocidal monsters.
For a moment, Jane felt inclined to join them on that emotional front. She decided against it; the current mission came first. She was about to explain that when John beat her to the punch.
"We're not."
Garrus looked at him, his mandibles widening with shock. "But Chief – "
"The Covenant isn't our biggest concern now. The Reapers are. First we neutralize the Collectors, then we worry about the Covenant."
Jack opened her mouth to retort, but Shepard headed her off. "I contacted Admiral Hackett of the Systems Alliance' navy about the Covenant. He took the threat very seriously. This is the Council's concern now. All we need to know is that this is one enemy we cannot underestimate."
"Whether they are linked to the Reapers or not, the Covenant is still powerful enough to keep the Citadel's fleets occupied. If both the Reapers as the Covenant start swarming our planets…we'll probably all die," finished Cortana.
"So…does anyone have doubts about what we are dealing with?" Jane then said. "Because I've seen what kind of world these things want for themselves. We're not going to stand by and do nothing."
One by one, the members of Shepard's squad looked at each other. There was nothing they could say. They all vowed to take down the Collectors before, but not many of them had a personal reason for doing so. Now, the Covenant had made an enemy out of them all.
"We're going to head for the Sea of Storms for Legion's mission next. Grab some rest and stand by for deployment. That is all."
They saluted her, then filed out of the conference room. Many of them looked over their shoulders at the holographic image of the floating orb of glass. Others looked at the Master Chief, who had already turned his attention to Cortana again.
The little AI looked at the leaving crew with a measure of pride. It made sense that the presentation hadn't spooked her. After all, she experienced everything there was to experience in the last years of the war. Still, the Commander hadn't expected her to look so…cheerful.
Again, Jane wondered if Cortana's electronic mind allowed her to feel the same feelings as a human girl would. Joy, sorrow, horror…pleasure.
"What do you think, Cortana?" She asked.
"I think I'm starting to fall in love with your crew," Cortana replied with a shrug. "They're so emotional. They get what will happen if they fail, and I don't have to worry about them not taking the fight seriously."
"Good. How's the progress on your experiments?"
Cortana smiled mischievously. "With the addition of the plasma weapons, I can make the entire team more dangerous. Then, I'll make you fall in love with me because of the heavy ordnance I produce and then I can finally use the Normandy in my plot for world domination." She halted and brought a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with false shock.
Jane couldn't help but laugh. "I thought the pretty boy," she gestured with her head to John, "would keep your megalomania in check."
"So thought the UNSC. But they were all wrong!"
The Spartan looked back and forth between the two women, ill at ease. "You said there was something I needed to see, Cortana?" He carefully said, the banter flying completely over his head.
Cortana's smile lost its shine. "Yeah, that's right. Let's go to the Hangar Bay. I'll need full privacy for this one."
"Just remember," Shepard called out when the Chief turned to leave the conference room as well, "My door is always open."
He shot her a look, nodded once, then left.
Jane stood there for a moment, feeling torn. Cortana and John were two complete opposites of a very complicated spectrum, but they both shared the traits she valued. They were brave, they were smart, they were nice…they accepted her for who she was. Spending time with either of them just felt right. And the way she understood it, that wasn't the way she was supposed to be feeling. Not with both of them.
Anderson did warn her that her lack of education during puberty would bite her in the ass…
With nothing concrete to act upon and a lot of information to think about, Jane headed back to the galaxy map. She had to enter the coordinates to the Heretic Station and update the ship's Codex as well.
"Commander?" Kelly said when Jane stepped up to the galaxy map. "The Master Chief needs you. He's got something he wants you to take a look at."
Shepard looked at her, puzzled. John needed her? But he and Cortana just left! "People don't hear that every day. You sure about that?"
Kelly nodded. "Definitely. Cortana requested you speak to him as soon as you had the time. Oh, and Commander? Not that I want to pretend like I know how he feels, but he strikes me as the type who likes to solve his own problems. Him reaching out to you…"
"Means he must be desperate?"
"No. Well, yes, but it also means he's starting to trust you. I feel like the encounter with the Covenant might have put a lot of stress on him."
"Ouch," Shepard replied with a deadpan voice.
"Oh, you know what I mean!" Kelly hurried to reply.
"Sure. I'll go talk to him. See what's going on."
Shepard had an armory boasting the latest in weapon innovation, a suit of armor that could take a thresher maw tackle without cracking and a reputation for having an almost supernatural knack for demolishing people in twelve different ways. When people talked about her capabilities, they almost always admitted that her pants-shittingly scary reputation was based on the fact that she didn't actually need her armory or suit to fuck people up.
She understood people. It was a simple as that. She got how they worked, what they feared, what they desired. She understood their insecurities and their needs and their pain. It was arguably her greatest weapon; to push people into doing what was best for the galaxy, be it a heroic second stand or suicide.
Joking around with Kelly or not, Shepard was starting to get John as well. And knowing what she knew about him, he'd rather eat his own helmet than directly ask her for help. That she was now making her way to the hangar bay could either mean he needed a new helmet, or that something really horrible had happened.
She'd figure it out soon.
Cortana is ill…
Dear lord she hoped nothing was wrong.
The hangar bay was still as big a mess as she left it. Gaping holes in the walls, sections of metal in the floor that melted away...cozy enough.
He was waiting for her. Unlike the other times, he didn't even bother to pretend he could keep himself distracted from his next operation. She strode from the elevator and he was there, standing not a meter away from her.
"Shepard," he said.
"John."
"Something came up."
He stared at her. His golden visor reflected her pale visage back at her.
"Do you want to sit down?" She said, gesturing at one of the boxes.
"I need…" he cut himself off, as if unsure what he even wanted to say.
That's okay. Take your time. I'll wait.
"There was a man," John started with great hesitation.
It didn't take a soldier to know that there were others like John. Veterans haunted by their past. Soldiers who were forever scarred by their ordeals. Too many of them still thought ending their own life was the answer. Watching John try to function without combat terrified her. She would not prod, she would not push. With a mind as scarred as his body, there was no telling if…when he would break.
Jane walked past him and sat down on one of the crates herself. "What was his name?" She asked, adopting a more casual tone.
He was silent for several long moments. "Johnson. Avery Junior Johnson."
There was a man. John wouldn't refer to his Spartans like that. The way he talked about them…that solemn reverence…no, Johnson was someone else. Family? Friend?
"Who was he?"
Most of his nonverbal behavior was masked by that damned suit. Jane had a hard time working with what he gave her. A misstep here would ruin what they had so carefully built up together.
"He was a friend. A Marine who fought the Covenant from the beginning until the end. On the Ark – " He immediately cut himself off again, thinking he said too much, or perhaps afraid he still was not permitted to speak about the horrors he endured.
It broke her heart a little bit.
"He died at the very end," he eventually continued. "When the war was officially over. But now, Cortana found a message on the extranet, directed to me."
"From him?" Jane asked quietly.
He nodded.
Her mind immediately leapt to conclusions. Johnson was dead and someone was impersonating him. Johnson was alive and he was reaching out for his friend. There was no way of knowing without details.
Details she, of course, could not press for. She remembered the frustration that simmered in his eyes when he told her about Sam.
"Do you think it is genuine?" She asked, keeping her voice as neutral as she could.
"It is encrypted by personal questions. Only the right answers will unlock it," he said.
Jane fought to contain her surprise. "Huh. That's new. And did you unlock it?"
Again, he hesitated. "No."
"Do you know all the answers?"
"Yes."
Ah. "I think you should open it. If they're the kind of questions only he would know, what…do you have to lose?"
She almost asked him what else he had to lose.
"The questions are personal in nature. If it's an imposter…"
"But what if it's not an imposter?" She insisted. "I doubt a hacker or an imposter could get by Cortana."
Slowly, eventually, he conceded. He booted up the omni-tool and opened the message. The heading was simple, yet managed to gain Shepard's attention immediately.
*Folks need heroes, Chief:*
Immediately following that, a row of five questions had been inserted into the message, with blank fields where John would insert his reply.
Jane looked at him. His helmet turned towards her.
"You ready?" She asked.
Instead of answering, he clicked on the first question.
* "When I joined the Corps, we didn't have any fancy-shmancy tanks. We had sticks! Two sticks, and a – "
Wordlessly, John typed "rock" into field and clicked on the second question.
Jane stayed silent as well, but as before, her mind immediately jumped to conclusions. Johnson was military. Of course he was. He sounded like a Drill Sergeant however. A very creative one at that.
*What days do we count when I say that we're even?*
He entered "only today".
Jane smiled. There was a story behind that one.
The next question was rather odd. *What was I gonna do to Locklear after he badmouthed you?*
She looked at John expectedly. There were people back with the UNSC who would badmouth him? Whoever this Johnson was, he had to have had a healthy respect for the Chief.
And his answer was sooo satisfying. Jane actually laughed when she read it. *Sweet mercy compared to me reaching down his cornhole to pull him inside out.*
"Wow," she said. She reread the answer to make sure she got it. "Wow! What'd this punk say to you to warrant that?"
The Chief shrugged. "That he didn't take orders from swabbies."
"Eh?" She titled her head quizzingly.
"Technically, the Spartans belonged to the UNSC Navy. In calling me swabbie, he referred to me as a crewmember such as Miss Chambers. It was meant as an insult."
Jane chuckled. Whatever this Johnson was to him, his loyalty was inspiring. That there was akin to something Garrus once said to a nosy reporter.
*What is the true name of the uneven elephant?*
She mouthed the words, wondering if additional context would give her the insight she needed.
The answer wasn't much help: *Unyielding Hierophant.*
A story for another time, maybe.
The last question had John hesitating again. Jane glanced at it, wondering what it meant. "John?"
*Did you let her go?*
He clenched his gauntlet tightly, before typing in, *No.*
"It doesn't seem like anyone but you could know those answers," said Shepard. "What now?"
He looked at her again, before submitting his answers to the extranet. The encryption software struggled to compare his words to the answers that the sender wanted to read, then the message changed.
Now, the main body of text contained a string of numbers. Any Commander worth their salt would instantly recognize them as coordinates.
"He wants to meet you," Jane said, amazed. Could someone from John's past have survived? There could be no better way to cheer him up than to reunite him with someone he thought dead.
"Johnson died," he softly said. "There is no way he got away."
"So what do you want to do?" Shepard asked him.
John deactivated his omni-tool. "Shepard. I know your mission is important. I would like permission to disembark from the Normandy and pursue these coordinates."
"Denied," she said. "I'm bringing you there myself. We'll have to see how far away those coordinates are. Hopefully, we can bounce straight from Legion's mission to there."
"Commander," he said, seriously. "Thank you."
She grinned. "It's no problem."
"Jane," he said again, his voice softer this time. He struggled until he found the right tone, or even the right words. "Thank you."
Her grin softened. "The way I see it, everybody needs someone to grab hold of them when life falls apart. Apart from Cortana, I don't think you have anyone."
He stared at her silently, his expression perfectly hidden behind his visor. Damn that armor of his. It stood as a wall between him and the others. It separated him from everybody else. Jane hated that, too. If the UNSC wanted to ostracize their Spartans from the rest of humanity, they succeeded.
She wanted to take that helmet of his and throw it away. Take his hands and show him that he was still human, that he need not be alone. There was a dull aching in her chest that just wouldn't go away.
"Spartans were not meant to function in society," he said, as if he could read her thoughts. "Our task was grim, but it had to be done."
His words struck a sensitive chord within her. "Not meant to function in society? But…what would you have done after the war?"
He lowered his head a fraction. "There will always be war. Humanity will always need soldiers."
Jane couldn't take that one sitting. She reached out to him, tapping her knuckles against his visor. "You spent your life fighting for humanity. At the very least, I think you deserve some friends."
"Friends…" He repeated the word as if it was alien to him.
"It'd be a start," she continued, spurred on by the moment.
"A start?"
Maybe she overstepped her boundaries just a bit. She quickly decided on fixing that the best way she knew: abruptly and forcibly changing the subject. "But now that the scale of the war is out in the open, expect the crew to treat you differently than before. Again," she sheepishly added.
John stood up as well. "They've been saluting me everywhere I go."
"Should I ask them to stop?"
He shook his head. "That will not be necessary. People always stared. They always will."
"Don't take it the bad way. After what you did, I think they just fell in love with the legend. Garrus especially. It's a turian thing. They value military discipline and a straight spine."
"Cortana said the same thing. She guessed that Councilor Sparatus would probably prefer the UNSC to the Systems Alliance."
"Oh, I don't doubt he would," replied Jane. "He never liked me to begin with. You? He'd probably propose to you on sight."
"I would have to turn that down," he dryly said.
Jane smirked. "I thought as much. I'll prep the squad for Legion's operation. You stay here and prepare. If this is real, I'm guessing you and mister Johnson have a lot to talk about."
Again, he remained silent. She presumed he agreed with her on that.
~0~
Four hours after his talk with Jane, the Master Chief still didn't know what to do. He sought his distraction on the firing range, the gym, the armory and eventually the Main Battery room. Nothing helped to distract him.
Eventually he returned to the Hangar Bay. He let his head thump against the side of a container and sighed. Be shut his eyes, trying not to remember how he ran away, leaving a still warm body behind as Halo shook itself apart.
Johnson was dead. He saw him die.
Johnson was alive. No man alive knew the details the contact asked for.
What was he supposed to do except gear himself up for a full combat mission, expecting the worst?
Eventually, Cortana decided that enough was enough. "Alright Chief, I think it's time to break out the scenario thinking again."
Faced with extremely uncertain and often changing combat environments since the Fall of Reach, Cortana devised several different methods of thinking to help him essentially prepare for things that otherwise couldn't be prepared for. Scenario thinking was one of those combat philosophies. The Chief, at wit's end, couldn't disagree with her. "Sure. Go ahead."
"First scenario: Avery escaped certain death on the Ark and really is alive. The galaxy will be a happier place."
"I acknowledge his survival and take him with me on the Normandy," said the Chief.
"Scenario two: it is an imposter from the UNSC who knows about your relation with him."
"I neutralize the hostiles with nonlethal means and capture the imposter for enhanced interrogation."
"Scenario three: it is an imposter from the Citadel theatre who somehow discovered your relation with him."
"Same as scenario two, with the addition of informing Shepard and the crew of the leak."
"Scenario four…"
They went on like that for another twenty minutes, bouncing ideas back and forth. They calculated the possible outcomes of their meeting with Johnson and devised what actions he had to take for each and every single one of them.
John memorized the actions he needed to take for each scenario, then had Cortana check the ship log.
Shepard wasn't back yet.
Biting back a sigh, he helped himself to the information regarding the mission that Cortana compiled for him. The geth, Legion, had learned that the hostile faction had adapted a Reaper virus that would compel the rest of the geth to take to their world view. The entire geth "species" would join the Reapers in the war against humanity.
The unfortunately dubbed Heretic Station would be swarming with geth. Legion supposedly planned for the strike by overwhelming the station's software with junk data, blinding the heretic geth to the coming attack.
Even thinking about those words left a bad taste in the Spartan's mouth. After three decades of fighting the Covenant, he had his fill of hockey alien religions. Every dogma that called for a divide between people was a threat. Hearing the supposedly-logical geth speak about matters such as religion and philosophy was…grating, to say the least.
He checked the ship's logs again. She was still gone.
He toyed with the idea of taking a shuttle and infiltrating the station himself. It'd be easy. The geth relied heavily on their shields to protect them. Plasma or close combat strikes would be extremely effective.
But he would be interfering with her mission. Worse, he would be interfering with her leadership.
Nobody wanted that.
So, John forced himself to stay calm and let Shepard do her thing. He knew she had this mission in the bag. She was the most dangerous non-Spartan combatant he ever saw. And though it would not serve her very well when fighting a race of machines, Shepard had a weapon that no Spartan could ever possess.
She was beautiful and she knew it. It was as effective a weapon as her agility and strength. She used it with a purpose, no more and no less than the situation demanded. She could destroy people in ways even the Spartans couldn't.
John could take a team of Spartans and neutralize the enemy without taking casualties.
She could take a group of seemingly ragtag aliens and warriors who barely knew each other and neutralize the enemy just as effectively.
No, he was approaching this the wrong way. The Spartans were the most skilled and elite soldiers the UNSC ever produced. They could take on every possible mission and succeed, even with near-suicidal odds. And while Shepard's squad was equally capable of taking on missions with long odds of succeeding, they had to be together to pull it off, while individual Spartans still possessed all the traits required to do it on their own.
…she still hadn't returned.
Cortana focused her attention on her own projects again. She would be with him if he needed her, but with the enormous amount of data she acquired from the Covenant attack on the Migrant Fleet, she had plenty of things to keep herself busy with.
The Master Chief geared up and went topside again. Shepard hadn't taken her entire squad with her on the mission. Some of them were still in the medical bay, recuperating from their injuries.
Garrus, for example, had recently returned to the Main Battery. It appeared even Vakarian couldn't run around with a fractured ankle. Jacob, too, was still working in the armory.
The Chief decided to give him a hand categorizing the plasma weapons.
"Master Chief!" Said Jacob upon seeing the Spartan enter the armory. "Good timing. We ran out of room for the weapons, so we had to shift around a few of the lockers. Do you mind taking a look at the inventory?"
The Chief did as he was asked. He saw that Jacob had trouble categorizing the Covenant weapons when compared to the UNSC or Citadel ones. The Plasma Pistols were placed at the SMG section, while the Needler was placed in the Shotgun section.
Not that he could blame Jacob. Those weapons did not adhere to the same roles as human weapons did.
"Took a crack at testing that rifle an hour ago," Jacob said, pointing at the blue alien rifle. "It's damn heavy. No recoil, nothing to reload it with. It's battery powered, isn't it?"
"Correct," replied the Chief.
"Huh." A troubled look crossed his features. "Those aliens ran around with two of those things at a time. I figured, to them, it could a carbine. To us, it's like an assault rifle. I filed it away under the rifles."
"Those weapons are sidearms," the Chief said, pointing at the Plasma Pistols. "And the Needler belongs with automatic weaponry."
Jacob rubbed his chin and nodded thoughtfully. "Alright. Got it. Far stretch from our automatic weapons though. What about that thing?" He then asked, gesturing at a large, bulbous weapon lying on the table.
"That's a Fuel Rod Cannon," replied the Chief. "An explosive launcher." He glanced at the weapon again, noticing that this was a more updated design. It didn't have the explosive failsafe. "It fires Fuel Rods, radioactive explosive material."
Jacob blinked. For a man who had just been told that his newest weapon was basically a weaponized nuclear fallout, he seemed remarkably unfazed. It probably came with the job. "Aaaalright. Got it. Saving that for emergencies then. Got a couple of things I presumed were grenades as well. Didn't see any pins, triggers or buttons, so I had Thane Biotically lift them into a crate."
A wise decision. While it was difficult to accidentally set off a plasma grenade, one of those things going off would cook the rest as well. Everything in a thirty-foot radius would be instantly obliterated. He doubted the Normandy, without bulkheads or a clear internal superstructure, would survive that.
Still, it was a good thing to see he could now add plasma grenades to his inventory. Future encounters with krogan warlords would be much simpler now. "Good plan .The activation switch is located on the orange side of the grenade. It requires significant pressure to activate."
"Good to know. I saw what those things did on the Rayya. I didn't see any mechanisms for the way it adheres to its target. Did the UNSC's scientists figure out how it works?"
"Smart matter," replied the Chief. He "Upon activation, it starts venting coolant. It does not stick when you throw it, but when you do, the grenade becomes hot enough to adhere to any surface."
Jacob whistled. "Smart matter. Goddamn Covenant. Well, it's in our hands now. This makes up most of the gear we hauled in. Plasma Rifles, Plasma Pistols, Needlers, couple of grenades and a handful of those Fuel Rod things. We stripped a few Jackal shields before we disembarked. Might be useful when assaulting the Collector base. I doubt their weapons can punch through those."
Once again, a tactic his Spartans would approve of. "They won't. With this gear, taking the Collector Base won't be a suicide mission any longer."
"Hah! I like the way you think. Bypassing their shields, taking their shots, I feel like the Collectors won't know what hit 'em. Of course, the Collectors were never the main threat. Think the Reapers will be as vulnerable?"
"We'll figure out the Reapers when it's time," replied the Chief. Keeping the team focused on one mission at a time was key. Having them question future decisions wasn't any use.
"If you say so, Chief," replied Jacob, without a shred of doubt. "With everything that's going on, focusing on one enemy at a time seems like the best choice to me as well. Covenant, Collectors, Reapers…I don't the Council's gotta realize they've got step in soon."
John wished he shared Jacob's optimism. "We'll see. Categorize those weapons, we'll need them for the final mission."
Jacob nodded. "Got it Chief."
With that done, the Spartan headed towards the Combat Information Center next. There was something he needed to know and if he was right, Miss Chambers could help him.
The CIC felt empty without Jane living up the place. The crewmembers attended to the consoles, Joker sat at the far end of the cockpit and Kelly Chambers stood in front of her console, writing dossiers or reading new psychological papers.
Throughout his time at the Normandy, John learned that Chambers wasn't an ordinary shrink. She was essential to the integrity of the team and the psychological wellbeing of its individual members. Even Jane with her near-supernatural ability to read people relied on her, which meant that John would consider her an essential member of the team as well.
"Ah, Master Chief!" She said upon noticing him. In direct contrast to the other members of the team, Kelly Chambers always seemed cheerful when looking at him. Apart from the first two times she saw him, of course.
"Miss Chambers," he replied.
"I already told you that you can simply call me "Kelly", Chief," she replied with a hint of amusement.
She did, and the Chief declined every time. There were some boundaries he would not cross. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course, Chief. What can I help you with?"
After a moment's consideration, John decided upon the best way to phrase his problem. "My humanity had issues with neural disorders. Brain diseases that led to long-term damage to the memory and thought processes."
"Yes, so did our humanity," she said, nodding. "Regardless of where a species evolves, its organs are prone to diseases of all kinds. Most of them can be cured, or at least halted."
She didn't ask him why he wanted to know that, which allowed him to continue the conversation at his own pace. He liked that. "How would one care for a person with non-acquired brain damage, socially?"
If the question surprised her, Miss Chambers didn't show it. "Why, taking care of a loved one with brain damage can pose many challenges for their friends or family. I don't claim to be an expert on the medical aspects of brain damage, but there are some tips that are generally considered useful for a wide variety of species. Do you want to hear them?"
"Please."
"Well, your body language and attitude are very important. Try to set a positive mood by speaking respectfully and pleasantly. Using your facial expressions and physically touching someone helps convey your message or affection. Always try to speak clearly and use simple words and sentences."
The Chief nodded, seeing how that would be useful.
"Asking simple, answerable questions helps tremendously. Cutting down on the number of answers is also recommended. Instead of asking, "which colour do you like?", you could try, "Do you like red, or white?"."
"How about the emotional level? When the individual has a...relapse, or moments of emotional distress?" Pressed John.
"Patience and humor," Miss Chambers almost instantly replied. "Use humor whenever you can. Of course, not at the person's expense, but you must deflect and distract them whenever emotional distress sets in. Remember the good old days and always respond with affection and reassurance."
"Distracting?" He asked. "In what way?"
"Connecting on a personal level, then changing either the conversation, or the environment. You could say, for instance, that you see that they are getting frustrated. You tell them you're sorry they feel that way, and that you should go do something else. Whether that is grabbing something to eat, or a simple walk, doesn't matter."
The Master Chief mentally reviewed the tips she gave him, memorized the examples word-for-word. "I see.
"Do you think this will help?" Miss Chambers asked.
"It will," he said.
She smiled. "I'm happy to hear that. If you want to know how to act in specific scenarios, don't hesitate to ask."
While grateful for the offer, John did not think he would take her up on that. Cortana didn't want others to even know about her condition, let alone speak of it.
The strategy for Cortana's long-term wellbeing was simple. After neutralizing the Collectors, he'd get her back to UNSC-controlled space, find doctor Halsey and fix Cortana's neural synapses. Since she was based on a human mind, the deterioration of her thought processes should be halted by treating her the right way. If he could just give her what she needed…he could buy her more time.
Finally, EDI informed him that Shepard and her team completed the mission. A second later, a rumble ran through the Normandy.
Trouble.
The Master Chief marched towards the airlock. "Cortana, status report?"
"I'm reading massive energy spikes in Heretic Station. Hold one…Legion collapsed the antimatter confinement bottle in the station's core. It'll destroy the entire station."
She linked the video footage from the airlock's camera to his HUD. In the small square at the upper left of his vision, the Chief saw how Jane and her team piled into the airlock en mass. The small room was filled with curses and shouts to move while the VI equalized the pressure.
Joker instantly gunned it, accelerating the Frigate into FTL and getting the hell out of dodge before the blast could consume them all.
"Aaand we made it!" Reported Joker. "No lasting damage from what to be a point-blank explosion in our faces. The faster we're out of geth space, the better. Don't want to be here when the rest comes looking at the fireworks."
Jane was the last one out of the airlock. The Master Chief reviewed the team as they walked by, scanning them for injuries.
They didn't look much worse for wear in his eyes. Tired, yes, but not wounded. And so soon after a combat mission against the Covenant…again, he was impressed.
Legion held a conversation with Mordin regarding, of all things, the ethics of brainwashing people. John wasn't all that surprised that the old doctor seemed so enthralled with the subject, but Legion? A being composed of networked intelligences? Something must have happened during the mission.
On their way out of the airlock, Shepard and Miranda could be heard discussing the outcome of their operation.
"…letting the Illusive Man known about the achieved objectives. No doubt he'll want to know what prompted you to make the decision."
Decision?
"What would you have done then?" Asked Shepard. The two women left the airlock, spotted the Spartan standing there and stopped.
A bemused expression fell upon Miranda's face. She quickly stepped forward, her heeled boots clicking against the deck with every precise step. Though she just returned from a dreadful zero-G operation, the fabric of her still-form-fitting suit seemed to whisper as she approached him.
"Master Chief?" She said without a shred of uncertainty. "Do my eyes deceive me, or were you worried about the Commander's wellbeing?"
Her tone and expression might have been warm, but her message was clear. You will deal with me, not the Commander.
The Chief looked at her, a smidge puzzled, but mostly bemused. Miranda Lawson was an excellent judge of character and skilled at cold reading, though not as skilled at that as Jane was. But very few people could discern the man from the machine when it came to the MJOLNIR.
And she didn't have the benefit of a suit to hide her from scathing eyes. Very well.
Miranda was behaving. Her tone wasn't cold, it wasn't threatening. He could drop his bombshell that he had an important personal mission to undertake with Jane and he would win.
But winning from Miranda Lawson with something she couldn't defend against wouldn't be accepted by her. Beating her meant having her acknowledge her loss.
"…yes," he said, putting a hint of hesitation in there.
Miranda worked her jaw. She hadn't expected him to admit that. "I wouldn't have pegged you as the caring sort, Chief. "
"I presumed you to be an excellent judge of character," he countered.
"Oh shit, Master Chief with the fiiire," laughed Jane.
John had no idea what that meant, but her comment seemed to settle it. Miranda scoffed, flicked her hand through her hair and sighed.
He allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He won this one.
"How did the operation go?" He asked her while Miranda left for her office on the third level.
She shrugged. A strand of her blood-red hair fell in front of her eyes and she reached up to brush it out of the way. John didn't point out how her hair was way longer than regulations allowed. "Mission success, as always. We killed a bunch of guys, made it to the AO and killed more guys. I uhm…Legion decided that the virus could be turned on the Heretics to force them back into the geth collective."
John considered that for a moment. It didn't sound like a good idea to him; forcing the heretics back into the collective meant taking them back as a whole, including whatever logic once compelled them to think the Reapers were a solid option. Rewriting them wouldn't take that logic away. Eventually, they would conclude that the Reapers would be the best option for them again. And seeing how the geth, much like Cortana, thought at the speed of light...
"I wouldn't have taken that risk," he said. "If the rogue geth were rewritten, they would still retain the option of breaking away again, effectively negating the outcome of this mission. Destroying them is the safest option."
She looked at him with turmoil in her green eyes. "An apt tactical analysis. If only you didn't miss out on the obvious questionable ethics of not brainwashing about a million sentient beings."
Brainwashing. John felt his stomach clench painfully. He detested that word. Brainwashing. Conditioning. Indoctrination. It slithered along his spine like a cold knife, lingering in the back of his thoughts where he stored the less affectional remarks about his Spartans.
He was aware of the questionable ethics of brainwashing sentient beings. He just couldn't comment on it. If pressed, he doubted he would even be able to formulate an opinion.
"What was Legion's choice?" He asked.
"A draw; 573 favored for rewrite, 571 favored for destruction," she replied.
"That's…a precise recall," pointed out the Chief.
Yes, he definitely preferred Shepard's smug expression over Miranda's. There was a childish innocence in those emerald eyes that just seemed reassuring to him. "I have a…unusually retentive memory."
"Unusual?" Repeated the Chief. He was unfamiliar with that phrase.
"Yeah…" She awkwardly rubbed her back, like she always did when she felt uneasy. "Anderson may have called it abnormal."
"And yet you have Miranda write your reports?" He pointed out.
"That's different. I teamed up with Cerberus to help humanity," she protested. "The least they can do is write my reports for me."
Somehow, John couldn't bring himself to disagree. Maybe that was another reason why Cortana was so fond of Shepard? Because they both had excellent memories?
"But anyway, Legion didn't have a preference. Nobody ever seems to have a preference when they need me to make a galaxy-changing decision. But yeah, I guess you're right about the whole changing-back thing. Besides, better be dead than mindfucked into something you would never want to be, right?"
John felt a heat run down a small, almost insignificant scar on his neck, right below his neck seal.
I am a timeless chorus. Join your voice with mine…
"Yes," he sourly replied. "That too."
Perhaps she sensed that he didn't feel comfortable with the subject, because she suddenly and forcibly changed it. "So we'll be setting course to your coordinates now. It's not that far away from the Heretic Station, either. About six hours. Are you ready?"
His hand almost subconsciously patted his sidearm. "I'm ready."
~0~
6 hours later
Truth be told, Samara had not expected to be asked on another mission so soon after the outcome of Legions operation. The request for her presence surprised her. Hearing that the new mission was for the Master Chief's sake was an even heftier surprise. She did not think that there was anything this galaxy could offer him, but if there was, she would do her utmost to help.
The nature of their mission was still uncertain. The Commander had not told her what the Spartan needed of them, only that their assistance was required.
Samara did not doubt that the nature of their mission would be perilous, and made towards the armory to prepare her gear. When she entered the armory, there was only one other man present. It should not have come as a surprise to her. After all, unlike most missions, the Commander had only chosen a select few for this one.
The Master Chief was entirely covered by his armour, as always. He moved from one side of the armory to the other, picking up an anti-material rifle as well as a shotgun. How could one so large and heavy move with such swiftness, such silence?
Samara looked at the golden visor of his helmet, envisioning his pale visage.
He saw her standing there and nodded once.
The Justicar nodded back. She wondered; was it Shepard who wanted her to fight along their side, or him?
They prepared their gear in silence. Samara ran her gaze along his armor during the intervals he had his back turned towards her. The battlesuit was devoid of blemishes now. The many burns, scratches and dents were gone. She doubted the engineers aboard the ship were trusted enough to repair it for him.
Someone else must have repaired it, then. Cortana? How?
She did not know. What she did know was that the Spartan somehow seemed…hurried. Concerned, even. He lacked the air of finesse and calmness that usually accompanied him.
"…you seem concerned," she softly said.
As before, he gave no indication that he heard her. He did grace her with a response though. "You're over a millennium old. You must have seen a lot of things."
Samara considered his words carefully. "I have seen and done many things over my lifetime. I thought the galaxy held nothing new for me. Since joining the Commander, I realized how much I have yet to experience," she confessed.
"Spartans don't make friends who aren't Spartans," continued the Chief.
Samara stood straighter. She had the feeling he was about to tell her something he would rather not talk about.
"It was only during the penultimate year of the Human-Covenant war that I fought alongside people I would consider friends. One was an alien." He paused to attach a duffle bag with grenades to his belt. "The others died."
Samara blinked. She quietly thought of a way to connect his two statements. He must not be done yet, she mused. "An unfortunate death, in the last year of the war."
He turned to face her. "He died in circumstances not even the Protheans would have experienced. Yesterday, the man contacted me."
Before, she would have dismissed his claim as an exaggeration. Having witnessed how quickly and how brutally the Covenant laid waste to the Migrant Fleet, however, Samara was inclined to believe him. She also realized that he was uncharacteristically talkative, which might well be his way of expressing his apprehension.
Considering what she knew about the Spartans – how much they could be likened to the Justicar Order – he had to be perfectly aware of that. She felt it was a show of trust, and vowed not to betray that. "And you fear it is a trap?" She asked.
"He has to be dead," he said, putting an unusual amount of inflection on that word. "If not…"
Those last two words were an addition to his explanation that the Spartan would rather not have said. Samara suspected that, if it had been anyone but her, he would not have uttered them. She sensed his unease and it made her uneasy as well.
"What if he is not dead?" She softly asked.
He did not answer. Not for a long time. He stood rigid and still, likely torn on the inside. For a man with such impressive feats in combat, his soul was surprisingly delicate and – Samara suspected – heavily stained.
When the Master Chief broke that silence, his voice was surprisingly soft, but his tone was harder than Samara ever heard before. And that was saying something. "If he is not dead, and the message is from him," he slowly said, "There might soon not be a galaxy left to safe from the Reapers."
As a Justicar, Samara was an expert on hiding her physical and emotional reactions from those around her. She had almost a millennium' worth of experience. Very few things solicited an emotional response from her. Be that as it may, his statement still provoked a sense of cold fear that settled within the deepest parts of her being.
The Spartan did not stop to explain himself. The moment he sensed a lull within the conversation, he took his leave and headed towards the airlock.
Might not be a galaxy left to safe…
That implied his friend was killed in a way that made it physically impossible to have survived. Did that mean the Chief feared a resurrection? In a way that was threatening to the galaxy?
Try as she might, Samara could not think of a reason why such a matter have such a profound effect on the fate of billions of people. She decided to abandon the subject altogether, finished business and joined the Commander and the Chief at the bridge.
"Guess your pen-pal is correct. I've got a turian warship in the middle of the system."
"A warship?" Asked the Commander.
"Yeah! Just a random Heavy Cruiser, smackdab in the center of the system. Whoever's in there just doesn't give a damn."
The Master Chief stood at a meter behind the Commander, a Plasma Rifle in his hands. He didn't partake in the conversation. Cortana, however, had projected herself from one of EDI's holographic projectors and stood in the middle of Joker's controls, her hands clasped behind her back like an officer.
"Scanning for activity…engines normal. A few life signs detected. No significant energy readings."
"Signs of biomass?" Asked the Chief.
"Negative. The hull is completely clean. Argus Planet scanning shows the space surrounding the Cruiser to be clean as well.
"Biomass?" Shepard asked, keeping her expression and voice remarkably casual. "This man of yours fond of floating around in space, or do we have something dangerous?"
Samara saw Cortana cringe at her words. It was strange how an Artificial Intelligence could be so much more organic than the man she was partnered up with.
"Later," said the Spartan. His voice was casual too. This close to the actual mission, he would not allow himself any form of emotional expression whatsoever. That, or he feared Joker would pick up on it too.
Samara would have told him his fears were ungrounded, but did she did not wish to offend the pilot.
"I guess we can safely hail them," said Cortana. "That, or I can infiltrate their ship and take control. Their cyberwarfare module is either malfunctioning, or horribly outdated."
"Let's not risk that yet," said the Commander. "We can hail them."
"Yes Commander. Opening a channel. Frequency matched and channel open. It's yours."
"This is Commander Shepard of the SSV Normandy," she barked, her voice full of authority. "Respond."
Static filled the channel for several moments, but then a voice came through. It was feminine, and obviously ill at ease with the sudden hail.
"Ehm…yes, this is Mirere Vani from the…uhm, from the turian Heavy Cruiser. Commander Shepard? Is that really you?"
"In the flesh," Shepard replied, instantly adopting a gentle, reassuring tone. "Mirere? What is your status? Are you in danger?"
"N-No! It's a long story. Do you mind docking with this ship? I think it's better if we spoke in person."
Samara listened to the woman's voice, trying to discern an emotional undertone. From what she heard, it did not sound like she was being coerced into doing anything against her will. But such was only a guess, and she had not lived as long as she did by relying on simple guesses.
"I'm going on a limb here and ask if you're not being forced to lie to me about that," Jane then said. Her voice was still gentle, but a certain hardness had crept into it that left no doubt about her actions. She would prioritize her own ship above this Mirere's life.
"There is nobody left to threaten us. Not anymore. As I said, it's a long story. We have a human onboard who is convinced he knows someone in your crew, Commander. He wants to do the talking."
Cortana, Shepard and even Joker turned to look at the Master Chief. His composure did not change at all; he remained as immovable as a Thessian mountain range.
"I'm going to believe you, Mirere," said the Commander. "But just to be safe; if this turns out to be a trap, my crew will not hesitate to take offensive actions."
"I promise you, Commander, that nobody will be hurt today." She laughed mirthlessly. "I doubt we could hurt you even if we wanted to."
"Yeah, right, we heard that before," Joker muttered as he piloted the Normandy towards the Cruiser. "Didn't you install the Thanix yet, Cortana?"
"Still don't have any physical hands, Mister Moreau," replied Cortana. "I wrote the software, placed installation guides in seven different languages and added a knock-knock joke, but at the end of the day it's still your engineers who need to install the thing."
"Sure, of course, just checking…"
Apparently satisfied that everything was taken care of, the Commander slipped on her helmet. Samara did the same, while the Master Chief turned towards the airlock.
Something curious happened. Back on Joker's console, Cortana flickered red. Distorted.
Samara felt a hint of the same foreign emotion she experienced back in the armory. She was aware that it must have triggered a primal part of her subconsciousness, but she didn't know why, or how.
She supposed it was not important. She slipped on her own helmet and waited while the Normandy aligned its docking tube with the turian Cruiser's. The Master Chief retrieved Cortana's chip from the console and then stepped towards the airlock when the inner doors opened, shouldering his rifle.
The doors closed behind the three of them. The cycling system pressured the air and then allowed the outer doors to open.
The Chief stepped forwards, covering Shepard and Samara with his bulk. Peering around his shoulder, the Justicar saw that the airlock of the other vessel had opened too. She saw a human girl, a batarian male and an asari standing at the ready. The batarian was armed.
A fourth person strode towards them, utterly devoid of fear or even hesitation at seeing the Master Chief's imposing form. He was armed too, but that couldn't have been enough to explain the Spartan's next move. He took two large steps forwards, grabbed a handful of the man's green uniform and slammed him against the bulkhead to their left.
Even as the others cried out in alarm and shock, the Spartan pulled out his sidearm with a gesture that was almost too fast for Samara to follow and aimed it squarely at the dark-skinned man's forehead.
"How?" He demanded, raising his voice to such a degree that even Samara was shocked. "How are you alive? How did you survive the Ark, the Flood?"
The batarian raised his rifle, Jane responded with trauma-induced aggression and lashed out Biotically, ripping it from his hands and discarding it.
Samara too raised her rifle, ready to take action if this meeting were to turn into a bloodbath.
~0~
AN: back to the old-fashioned Masterdude cliffhangers. I really didn't intent for this chapter to become 20K words. It just sort of happened.
