-(++)—


Serpent Nebula

The Sangheili Shipmaster approached him. The dark, silver-bronze colour of his armour was a sharp contrast to the white surroundings of his broken castle.

"I have thought about what you asked me," The Forerunner spoke to him.

"Tell me, Great One."

"This galaxy is ruled by those who were mere animals in my time. We all face a choice. We battle the sleeping horrors that threaten to engulf our galaxy, or toil on in the struggle to define those who rule and those who are ruled. Those who choose the latter, cannot be allowed to live."

"Are we aware of this choice?" Replied the armour-clad Sangheili. "Those who are ruled by tyrants have no choice but to obey. Consider the batarians. Their ruling caste has been crushed. Are those who remain all slavers, or pirates, or murderers?"

The Forerunner considered that. After saving the batarian people from their doomed homeworld, they proved to be a spiritual, committed people.

"The people are not. But the leaders? Even after their grand capital was taken from them, the leaders of this galactic community refuse to believe. They fear to anger the lawless, while they should have crushed them without mercy. They refuse to acknowledge the past, while they should be bolstering their defences to protect their future."

"You once told me that these civilizations were like children. Should children not be guided, instead of chastised?"

The Forerunner turned towards the Shipmaster. "You are a Sangheili. Your rank means sacrifice. Surely you would understand the merit of serving the greater good?"

The Sangheili nodded slowly, overthinking his question. "Hmm…for most of my life, I held an obsession with honour and tradition. I was zealous and blindingly obedient to my leaders. Millions of humans died at my hands. The same humans your people chose as their inheritors. But…at our darkest hour, my people found an ally in these humans. I fought with them. I mourned with them. I laughed with them. One of them, I considered my friend."

The Forerunner knew of that story. Since his awakening in this confusing, dark galaxy, the Shipmaster had regaled him with many stories. Stories about bravery, about honour, about sacrifice and death. Because of the Shipmaster, the Forerunner learned how perilously close this galaxy had come to total annihilation.

"This human…he was the one who helped you stop the Halo Array, was he not?"

"He was. You destroy your enemies when you befriend them, Great One. And that means that our past does not dictate our future."

The wisdom of a warrior king…the Forerunner now understood why "he" and the Didact used to be friends, and why they were now friends no longer.

"Then what do you suggest, Arbiter of the Sangheili?" He asked the Shipmaster.

"All the warriors are on the field now," the Sangheili replied, referring to the full resurgence of humanity, as well as the battle raging around the Citadel. "And the storm is approaching fast. If the people of this galaxy do not understand what is to come, then you must teach them."

Teach them…how cruel a twist of fate.

For the first time since in a hundred thousand years, the Forerunner smiled.

-(++)—


Unknown Location

Normally, the image of the burning star was soothing. The angry glow of red mixing with the serene blue, as if each one was vying for dominance, used to calm his thoughts.

Now, the man known as The Illusive Man looked at the star, and was only reminded of the horrors that were to come. Not just the Reapers, no. With the UNSC, the Covenant and the emergence of a living, breathing Forerunner, the galaxy might just weather that storm. What truly concerned him was what came after the Reapers. After all, if the Forerunners could be considered deities, what did that say about those who killed them?

The UEG was silent on that regard. Their conditions for peace had been simple: do not disturb Forerunner sites without UNSC presence. The nations of the galaxy accepted that, wondering what could have such a war-weary and hardened people so scared. Very few people actually stopped and considered this problem further.

The Forerunners, even more advanced than the Reapers, were gone. They only left their legacy behind. That begged the question: why? Why did the Forerunners disappear? What was their relation to the Protheans, to humanity?

To the asari?

He felt like everything revolved around this secret. The UNSC's reluctance to associate with the galactic community, the Covenant's almost repentant servitude of an ancient king. The sudden arrival of the geth, who seemed just as interested in the technology of the USNC and the Covenant as all the other species.

To possess a method of FTL that did not depend on the Mass Relays was to hold the fate of the galactic community. The geth, obedient to the Reapers or not, could not be allowed to hold that technology.

Pandemonium. Chaos. Nobody knew what was going on anymore. Everybody was focused on the same thing. While everybody looked right, The Illusive Man looked left. Where the nations of the galaxy saw the Forerunner, the AI and the Covenant, The Illusive Man saw the Asari Republics.

Or more specifically, the small cabal of individuals who ruled at the very top of the Republics.

Without Jane, he wouldn't have known about their existence. Now that he did, he saw their work everywhere he looked.

And time was running out. They were desperate enough to embark on operations they could not possibly deny. Whatever reason lined their desperation, The Illusive Man knew that they could not get their hands on a Spartan. He saw the link between the UNSC demanding to personally oversee the excavation of Forerunner technology and the cabal's desire for a Spartan, and it disturbed him greatly.

There was a difference between not wanting humanity to die, and wanting humanity to live. He saw that now. Cerberus would never shake the image it had so carefully cultivated, but perhaps it was not too late to be a force for good

Using his office's powerful Quantum Entanglement Communicator systems and the additions made to them, The Illusive Man began searching for the individual his top agents had steadily been gathering more and more information about. With the death of the Shadow Broker, the art of gathering and distributing said information had become a dangerous, treacherous one.

While Commander Shepard fought for her life on Zorya, The Illusive Man sieved through channel after channel, linked from system to system until finally, more than thirty minutes later, he found the individual he was looking for.

And even then, he had a feeling that he would not have found her had she truly desired to stay hidden.

"Athame," The Illusive Man spoke, burying his fear deep within his heart.

If there ever existed a woman powerful enough to hunt down and kill him without ever leaving her office, it was her. If the Alliance displeased her, a single remark from her side could see the Alliance's economy plummet for weeks. If the Hierarchy defied her, one order could see a Primarch abdicate and his entire family dishonoured.

Even the STG did not dare meddle with her affairs.

"Jack Harper," her holographic representation replied. She looked pale, almost unhealthily so, but her eyes spoke of centuries of knowledge and experience. "To what do I owe this…unusual pleasure?"

The Illusive Man swallowed a lump in his throat. He reminded himself that Athame was no longer the most powerful individual in this galaxy, and decided to immediately get to the point. "Your people are hunting a Spartan super-soldier on Zorya, the home of the Blue Suns, as we speak. I know you want that Spartan alive. Since that world is now under geth siege, reinforcements are hours away, and this Spartan is no use to anyone if he is dead."

She didn't even blink at his comment. "What are you proposing?" She asked, like she had been waiting for his call all day.

The Illusive Man glanced at a console to his left. Surrounding his chair were holographic images with varying reports, charts and dossiers. Funds, operations; a constant bombardment of information. He could only assume she had a similar setup.

"I have someone down there who is in a position to find the Spartan. Someone with the necessary skills to ensure his extraction."

A little smile played over her lips, though her eyes remained blank and dead. "Commander Shepard."

The Illusive Man reached for a cigarette and lighted it. He would not show this woman any sign of weakness. One never knew what set her off. "Exactly. Either the geth find the Citadel, or Shepard does. In the former case, the Spartan – and his secrets - will be forever out of your reach. In the latter, you will have another shot to get him."

"You assume my people will fail in their task."

"This Spartan has remained untouched for a full month, with the entire galaxy hunting him down. And this time, he will be on the lookout for the asari specifically. I am fully convinced that Shepard can get to him in time…if she only knows where to look, and where not to look."

"You assume this information is free."

The Illusive Man took a drag of his cigarette. "The Shadow Broker is dead. The Forerunner AI used this Spartan to eliminate him, with nobody the wiser. She knows where I am, too. It is only a matter of time before she turns her considerable resources towards you." He paused to let that sink in. As powerful as Athame was, even she could not stand up to the likes of the Master Builder. "You want the Spartan to be in your grasp before that happens. Shepard will find him, make no mistake about that. She will try to locate the Citadel as fast as she can, after that. Finding this Spartan will be as easy as following the Commander…discreetly."

"You propose an exchange?"

"I propose the following. If Commander Shepard were to receive Intel on where to find the Spartan, you would receive Intel on which ship she boards to put him to use. If she does find the Citadel, you know what to do."

"It fills me with delight to see humanity is still willing to throw each other to the varren. Very well. I will accept this…proposal of yours."

The Illusive Man met her eerie, lifeless smile with one of his own. You can follow her all the way to hell, but only those with wings may return.

-(++)-


Ismar Frontier

Faia System

En-route to UNSC Prowler Sahara

The Pelican dropship lurched sharply to the side as the pilot attempted to dodge the incoming fire. The robotic geth were not keen on letting them escape, and they filled the air with fighters trying to intercept them.

Kelly-087 sat strapped into her seat, not at all concerned by the manoeuvres their pilot took to keep the ship in one piece. No, she had more important things to worry about.

"So, this is the woman who charmed the Chief into fighting for the Alliance for so long?" She quipped over a private channel. She leered at Commander Shepard from behind her visor. The Master Chief risked the Pelican for her sake. Just so that she could get to the package first, while Blue Team stayed behind to fend off the geth.

John never did anything to compromise the mission.

"John couldn't be charmed even if the Alliance had a thousand years," replied Fred-104. "Something's up."

"You two are just jealous," Linda-058 replied, not even bothering to take her eyes off her SRS99-S5 AM rifle. "Quit staring Blue-Two. You're obvious."

"She won't be able to tell. People never tell," Kelly stubbornly retorted.

"She spent a couple of months with the Master Chief. I think she can tell."

The Pelican dropship finally managed to leave the atmosphere, and now shot towards the Prowler that had initially dropped them off, geth fighters in hot pursuit. While Blue Team hung on tight, hoping that the hostile ships wouldn't nail them, the Master Chief and this Commander Shepard regarded each other as old friends.

That was to say, Shepard spoke to him like he was an old friend, while John graced her with answers that consisted of more than two words.

All the while, the package they were sent to secure that in the corner of the Pelican, silently watching the scene unfold. He was clad in full, black Mark VI MJOLNIR, looking almost like the real deal.

Almost.

Kelly couldn't help but feel on edge with him nearby, so she kept a close eye on him as well. She didn't believe the helmeted woman sitting next to him to be a threat, but an unknown Spartan was always a threat.

"– which is why the Alliance sent me on my own," Shepard finished. "I didn't think they'd change their minds, let alone that they would have valuable intel."

"They didn't. We were unaware of your presence, let alone of your mission objectives," John replied. "We only found you because we followed the asari presence."

"Well, thank fuck for the asari then," Shepard grumbled. She had her helmet clipped to her belt and Kelly swore that the woman was Linda's spitting image. "At least we beat them to the punch this time…"

"Which brings us to the elephant in the room," Fred then remarked, glancing over at the unidentified "Spartan". "You're not one of us."

The black-clad figure didn't physically respond when the conversation focused on him. He had the presence of a Spartan alright, but Kelly still felt something was off about him.

"No," he merely responded. "I'm not."

"Whoever you are, there's a lot of shitlists with your serial number squarely at the top," Shepard said. "What happened?"

"We should wait until an official debriefing," John suggested.

Suggested. Kelly still couldn't believe it. Who was this woman that the Chief took orders from her?

"No time," Shepard said, shaking her head. "The Reapers could be days away. I trust you know about the Reapers?"

"They do," John said.

The Commander nodded, approving. "Good. Three? We have a couple of questions for you. Did you go rogue? How did you end up with that AI?"

"Rogue…" he slowly repeated, as if mulling over the word. "I never went rogue. I serve humanity first and foremost, albeit in a…different sense.

"Different as in…?"

"As in classified."

Their dropship finally got within range of the Prowler. The Sahara immediately began blasting the pursuing ships with bursts of pulse lasers, covering Pelican until it could dock.

Shepard leant in closer. "Three, I'm not asking for military secrets. But in a couple of days, the galactic community is going to get swarmed by things that rival the Covenant in bloodlust. They outclass everything we have, and that includes the UNSC. We need people to stand together, but without the Citadel, that's not going to happen."

"ETA to Sahara is one mike!" The pilot yelled through the COM.

"Time enough. You said you didn't go rogue. I'd like to believe that. But how did you get here? What's your role in the Citadel's disappearance?

"My role? Fulfil her desires, then die."

Kelly raised her eyebrow when she heard that. And clearly, Shepard didn't expect that answer either.

"Excuse me?" She asked.

"At least initially. The Covenant worshipped the Forerunners like gods. They weren't that far off. Daily business for the Forerunners would seem like magic to us," Three explained. "The AI that took the Citadel is a…fragment of a highly-advanced intelligence. I was on a classified operation when she seized our ship. Then, she forced me to set her free."

"What do you mean, forced you?" Asked Shepard.

Kelly thought she knew why. From what the UNSC had pieced together the past year, Forerunner technology could only be accessed by humans. She didn't know how, or even why, but that would explain Three's story.

"What part of "seems like magic to us" didn't you get?" He impatiently said. "Her fragment is powerful enough to make Smart AI's seem like insects. She was…persuasive."

Kelly shot a quick glance at John, as did the rest of Blue Team. If that remark bothered him, he didn't show it, not even to them.

"What happened then?" Shepard continued.

The Pelican, meanwhile, docked with the Sahara. A tremor ran through the dropship as they latched. The old Prowler immediately accelerated to get the hell out of dodge.

"She took me around the galaxy, looking for something she held dear. Eventually, the Master Builder emerged from his Cryptum, found us on Illium and things changed."

The pilot dropped the Pelican's hatch and number Three stood. Fred and Linda tensed up, almost imperceptibly so. Spartan or not, this man was augmented and clad in MJOLNIR. His allegiance was a complete unknown. They weren't about to let him move unhindered.

"Now, I need to find her," he simply said, before moving towards the exit.

As one, Fred and John rose, barring his way.

Kelly and Linda stood as well. The unknown woman in the back followed suit. Kelly kept her eye on her as well, ready to spring into action if needed.

"Explain," John ordered.

"I suggest you listen," Fred then added. "Rogue or not, you still didn't identify yourself."

Kelly prepared herself to immobilize this unknown Spartan. Vaguely, she recalled a tidal wave of kids beating the snot out of a couple of soldiers who failed to identify themselves as well, many years ago. The more things changed…

"She was created about a hundred thousand years ago," number Three said after a moment of silence, undaunted by the Spartans surrounding him. "The only thing she hates as much as the Master Builder, is us. Humanity."

Kelly sighed. More ancient monsters who wanted a piece of humanity…

"Yet you're still alive," Fred pointed out.

"Not for a lack of trying. I grew on her, in the end, I think."

"Why does she hate humans, specifically?" Asked John.

"…I can't say."

"Try," Fred said, his voice low and menacing.

Three looked around. He did not seem concerned. "Spartans 117, 087, 058 and 104. Blue Team. You of all people should know that information is dangerous. There exists that would destroy the Commander's dream of unity."

Shepard merely crossed her arms, seeming nonplussed by his response.

"He's bluffing," Kelly said over the private COM.

"Do you want to take that risk?" Shot back Linda.

"Is that a threat?" Fred asked Three.

"A warning. Some secrets are better left buried."

"That's too convenient for me," Kelly said, stepping towards the "Spartan". "Are you sure you can't answer of our questions? Until you can properly identify yourself, your usefulness depends on how what you can tell us."

Three turned to meet her gaze. He appeared undaunted. "I know your name, 087. I know how you got your role during training as the rabbit."

Kelly's eyes widened with surprise, though she made sure her physical reaction was non-existent. He knew her name? Just who was this soldier?

"I know what the Office made me do; things they kept even the II's far away from." He met the gazes of the Spartans around him. "Knowing things and acting on them is my specialty. I know what's at stake, and I stand at your service, along with everything I know."

There was a short pause as the gathered Spartans processed what he meant.

"Ease up, Blue-Two," John told her over the COM, apparently having made up his mind.

Kelly snorted, but acknowledged his order with a green light on his HUD.

"I think I can get used to him," Linda told the team, before addressing Three personally, speaking up for the first time since boarding the Pelican. "Do you know where the Citadel is?"

"I believe I do."

"Let's not waste any time then," Shepard said. "Chief, my orders were to locate Spartan Zero-Zero-Three and get him back to Alliance space for interrogation. I'll assume your orders are roughly the same. If the Alliance gets a hold on him, it'll be months before we find the Citadel again. If the UNSC gets a hold of him, I doubt we'll ever see the Citadel again. Both cases mean wasting time we don't have. You know we can't afford that."

Kelly thought she knew what Shepard was about to suggest, and she opened a private channel to the Master Chief to remind him of their objective. "Sir, Spartan or not, Three is a wealth of information on the Forerunner AI. We can't let him walk."

"The Reapers are a bigger threat than the Covenant was," John answered her unspoken question. "The UNSC believes in their threat, but humanity won't survive fighting them on her own. We need allies."

"And for that, we need the Citadel." Kelly sighed. She wouldn't voice any more objections; what John said, went. And that had nothing to do with the chain of command. If he was willing to disobey a direct order for this woman, they would follow him, no questions asked.

"What do you suggest, Commander?" The Chief then asked the Alliance officer.

"As soon as I know it, I am headed straight to the Citadel's location," Shepard resolutely replied. "If we can just find its location and spread the word, we can get the other species to cooperate. I would like you and your team to accompany me, Chief."

Kelly wondered if that was a solid idea. The AI that took the Citadel was of Forerunner design. If Shepard rushed in on her own, she'd get killed. The strange thing was, someone of Shepard's calibre should know that already.

"I should probably point out that it's not that simple," Three then said, all but spelling it out.

"We'll plan the mission after the UNSC debriefed you," John told him.

"Lovely. Who is charge in charge of the UNSC's operations in the Terminus Systems?"

"Fleet Admiral Harper. Blue-Four will escort you to the communications room."

Linda approached Three, who simply nodded and fell in line.

Kelly glanced at the Master Chief, who left the Pelican together with Shepard. There were plenty of things the rest of Blue Team could do in the meantime, so it didn't matter if John gave them a specific order or not. Still, his attention for the Commander got Kelly interested.

Who are you? Kelly thought, feeling a mixture of honest curiosity and suspicion as she watched the two leave. Why are you special?

-(++)-


"Five weeks," Shepard told John the moment the door to small, empty barracks closed behind them. "Five weeks without hearing from you or Cortana. Did you do it? Did you find a way to help her?"

"Jane…Cortana is gone…" John whispered.

A wash of stinging cold crawled down Shepard's spine, like she stood under a cold shower. Processing the words hurt. Like a punch to the gut.

"Gone?" She repeated. "What…what happened?"

He was silent for a moment. "It happened a few days after we escaped the Citadel. She…said she wanted to keep her dignity. She didn't want others to suffer because of her."

His voice was deep and calm, utterly devoid of emotion. All this time, ever since Tali managed to find him…how John could reduce himself to an unyielding, emotionless wall of stone was almost frightening.

"What did she do?" Jane whispered.

Wordlessly, John retrieved a small keychain and held it out. Where a soldier's ID could normally be expected, Jane saw Cortana's chip. Instead of its usual, lively blue, it was grey. Without power.

Dead.

Jane struggled to find a response. After everything those two went through…all the promises the three of them made…

She couldn't begin to imagine what that must have been like for John. To lose someone so close to his heart…he couldn't mourn, he couldn't accept his own grief, he didn't have anyone to confide into.

"I'm…"

Don't say sorry.

He didn't need pity, or assurance. Jane knew exactly what he didn't need. But what did he need?

"…I'm not sure if you're up for this," she settled for saying. "You've got your team – your siblings – with you now. You need time to process this, otherwise it will consume you."

Jane knew very well what would happen if a soldier didn't take the time to process their loss. Self-loathing, anger, despair…those emotions would consume you, especially if you've lived your entire life banishing those from your mind.

"Our duty as soldiers is to protect humanity…" John quietly retorted. "Whatever the cost."

Denial. Like a drowning man reaching for driftwood.

He didn't realize. He didn't understand. He focused himself on his mission with single-minded determination, because he literally couldn't function without doing so. Would she be the one to take that one assurance away from him, force him to confront reality?

"What about Cortana?" Shepard carefully began. "She wanted a future, for the both of you. She wanted you to live your life, John. She wanted you to be free of the burden they forced onto you when you were young."

Even through the armour he so desperately hid behind, she could see the shock, the surprise that she knew his darkest secret.

"If we don't live – if we don't remember and share their lives – then what's the point?" She remembered the years of pain and grief and self-loathing like she left those behind yesterday. "You're a man, John. A person. Not a number. Not a machine. Cortana tried to make you realize that before."

He remained silent. It was very likely that he didn't know how to respond to that.

Shepard closed her eyes and sighed. In all honesty, the thought of blocking all emotions from her mind and focusing on what was to come as very alluring. It couldn't be more than a week until the Reapers came. Just a couple of days, maybe week until the end of it all. One week to get the governments around the galaxy to mobilize their fleets and start preparing.

It might as well be a couple of minutes for all the good it would do them…

"You're not alone," she then said, hoping to pull his attention to somewhere more productive. "You've got Blue Team by your side, now."

"No…" he said. "I'm not. Not many of us are left. But enough to make a difference, back home."

"I guess the UNSC kept you busy," Shepard said, unable to prevent the bitterness from seeping into her tone. What she wouldn't have given for a friendly face the past month…

"Debriefings, mostly. About the Collectors, the Reapers, the Normandy."

"That must have been an interesting debriefing."

"I told them only what they needed to know. Nothing the crew would not have shared themselves."

Shepard already assumed as much, but she was still thankful to hear him say it. Trust was difficult to come by these days, and the fact that even today, her friends seemed to look out for each other was a massive relief.

…she didn't even know if they were still okay. She couldn't imagine anyone treating them well, since they could very well be treated like accomplices in her "treason" by associating with Cerberus. Grunt…Jack…Thane…who would they turn to, now that they were left to fend for themselves? And William…she didn't want to imagine what the asari would do to him, now that they had their hands on him…

She'd find him. She'd get him back. That much she swore.

"I assume the Alliance sent you after Three?" John asked, shaking her from her thoughts.

"Yeah. The Illusive Man helped me out, though." Shepard briefly considered asking him what happened after he left the Citadel, but decided against it. He needed time to think about what she told him. "So the UNSC sent you after him as well? He's not one of you, after all."

John shook his head. "He is augmented. He wears the armour. But he is not a Spartan-II."

"Then what is he?"

"Special forces, a classified branch most likely. We don't know him."

Shepard nodded. People always assumed that all Special Forces were familiar with all the other branches and organizations working for the government. It only made sense that even John wasn't aware of all the operations the UNSC was running.

Which brought her to a different problem. "There's something you should know. While you were holding off the geth, and I found Three, he was already engaged by another Spartan."

"Are you certain?"

She nodded. "Definitely. They didn't wear the same armour as you or him, but what other soldier can fight an augmented Spartan in power armour?"

"Were they hostile to you?"

Jane recalled the moment the two armour-clad behemoths slammed into each other mere inches away from her. Back then, Three had intercepted the unknown Spartan before they could reach her. If Three hadn't…there was a good chance she might have died back then.

A pragmatic decision or not, it showed that Three was definitely on their side. For now.

"Definitely," Shepard replied. "They tried to kill me as well."

She wished she knew what was going on behind his visor at that moment. He didn't seem surprised to hear her description, but she was fairly certain that he had no idea what was going on either.

"Three will know," he said. Then, he was silent for a full ten seconds, before quietly saying, " You said young."

Ah.

"I did. I'm sorry for dropping that on you. I wanted to respect your secret, but it places Cortana's words in new, important context. She was always looking out for you, even in the end. She introduced herself to me, way back, for your sake. And…if I interpret her words correctly, she…left for your sake, too."

"I told her I would help her," he replied, his voice gravelly and heavy. Shepard could hear the grief in his voice, even though someone else might not have. "I made her a promise."

"Some promises just can't be kept…" Shepard replied, thinking back to the last time she saw her parents alive. "But you can always remember them. And honour them."

Someone knocked on the door. John turned towards the door as it slid open.

One of his Spartans stood in the opening of the door. Jane felt ashamed that she couldn't tell them apart. She believed two of them were female – Blue-Two and Blue-Four– while the other one was male.

"Master Chief," the Spartan said. Definitely a woman. "The Sahara left the system and is ready to transition. Awaiting coordinates."

"The package?"

"Blue-Four's still with him. He should be ready."

"Clear out the hangar. We debrief in five."

"Yes sir."

With that, the Spartan turned on her heels and left.

Shepard watched her go. She too moved with that inhuman precision and control she came to associate with the armour. Watching them tear an entire geth division apart had been a sobering experience. Still, the other Spartans were just like John. She didn't know the details, nor did she know how old they had been when the UNSC did what it did.

"Thanks, John," she quietly said. "For helping me."

"We were ordered to apprehend Zero-Zero-Three and return him to UNSC space," the Spartan simply replied. "That is the mission we will complete."

Jane smiled. "Come. Let's see what he can tell us now that he's spoken to a superior. I really want to know where he found my identical twin sister."

He cocked his head sideways quizzingly. "…I don't recall you having a sister," he said.

"That's because I don't. That woman he was with, the one who kept silent throughout the entire conversation? She has my face."

"…are you sure you are not confused?" John asked, though his voice made it sound like he was the one who was confused. "Miranda had a twin sister. Not you."

Humour. That was a good sign.

She guessed he picked that up from her. Masking your pain with bad jokes. "Maybe you spent too much time inside your helmet, but I don't forget what I look like. She looks like someone tried to clone me."

"…maybe you should lead with that," John replied. He tried to pass that off as another joke, but his voice sounded…forced. Something she just said hit home.

Shepard thought back to what Three said. How he knew things that would wreck everything she was working for. Every government had done things they didn't want the public to know, but the UNSC, in its sheer desperation, had created quite a few secrets they couldn't have the public find out.

She really hoped that would remain their strength, or the Reapers would use it as their weakness.

-(++)-


The debriefing with the Fleet Admiral took far longer than Alan would have liked. Even Joseph Harper knew nothing about the Spartan Operators, which made the accusations levelled against him impossible to disprove.

And since Harper also lacked the proper security clearance to grand him permission to reveal classified information, Spartan-003 faced the unfortunate reality of having to debrief a team of Spartan-II's while omitting as many facts as possible. Anything more would be treason at best, and a reason for the Insurrection to tear humanity apart at worst.

Go cause mayhem somewhere else.

Alan wished he knew what the ancient AI meant. Did she grant him permission to reveal humanity's past sins? Was it a jab at his deteriorating mental health? Either one was possible.

He had to compartmentalize. Put things into perspective. ONI declared him a rogue and sent a team to assassinate him. Outwitting government-sanctioned assassins was nothing new, but the "rogue" thing was a surprise.

As was fighting a Spartan-II in close quarters combat, incidentally. Perhaps, if the two of them had been wearing the same type of armour, he might have even avoided the damage she inflected on him. But as it was, he made the fatal mistake of fighting based on anticipation instead of reaction. Helia-009 would have chewed him out for making such a rookie mistake.

If you anticipate someone's next move, and they do something different, you are fucked.

He had anticipated MJOLNIR Mark VI. The Spartan had not delivered. He had Commander Shepard and Blue Team to thank for getting him out unscathed.

Still, when Alan bowed over the sink in the empty restroom to spit out a mixture of coagulated blood and spittle, only to feel a sharp pain shoot through his abdomen, he realized that he had not completely avoided the "unscathed" part.

He felt hot and feverish. It took him a moment to steady his hands. He knew from experience that his heartrate would be elevated by now.

The Spartan took his helmet and began cleaning the dried blood from the visor. Imbecile, he chastised himself. He wasn't supposed to make mistakes in his line of work. Every mistake he made could end up being the fatal one. Fighting with aggression, threatening Spartans with information he never even intended to learn, let alone utilize – it wasn't him.

Useful or not, he loathed that part of himself. The things he had done when under that damnable mutagen's influence…

He needed the counterdrug, or this would spiral out of his control. But Lady ONI had the counterdrug…and apparently, Lady ONI now wanted him dead.

The faint rustle of metal brushing against metal had his mind leapt to full alertness. With one hand, he undid the strap to his sidearm, pulled it from its holster and took aim at the person standing in the opening of the door.

He recognized her as Spartan-058, Linda. Not someone he wanted to raise a gun against.

As the sickening lurch of adrenaline tickled his limbs, Alan lowered his gun and holstered again. As he did, he didn't know what he loathed more: that 058 had seen his face, or that she had seen the slight tremor in his arm.

Wordlessly, 058 held out a canister of Biofoam.

For a couple of seconds, 003 stared at the metal canister. His mind went through the possibilities – rigged to blow? Dosed with an unknown agent? A distraction for a takedown? - before he realized that none of those made sense. Blue Team clearly wanted him alive, and if 058 wanted to, she could very well best him in close quarters combat and kill him, given his current state.

Still, his conditioning screamed at him not to take the canister, even as he slowly took it from her, still expecting treachery.

The Spartan didn't make her move when he took the Biofoam, so he very carefully set the canister atop the sink and strapped his helmet back on.

"You might want to use that now," she told him, her voice completely neutral. "You have a tremor in your arm."

"It's not what you think it is," he replied. Still, he took her advice and reluctantly booted down his shields, before opening up one of the insertion points via his HUD and inserting the tip of the canister there.

The application felt like someone poured scalding water over his insides, but the pain quickly cooled and faded. He still preferred Medigel; it lasted longer, and worked more thoroughly.

"How would you know that?" She asked, her tone still devoid of anything that Alan could have used to learn about her.

Because it's just another aspect of me that's illegal…

Realizing that the quietest Spartan would not simply make small-talk with him, Alan repeated that question in his head. Normally, he was quite good at cold reading someone, but he couldn't muster the proper focus at this point.

"Because it's not something Biofoam handles. A good night sleep, perhaps," he replied, hoping to deflect her attention.

She wordlessly gestured at the used canister standing on the sink.

Oversight.

"It's been a long month," he simply replied. He was in neither the right mood nor the right condition for a verbal probing match. "What can I do for you?"

She didn't immediately respond. She remained there, looking at him in silence.

But on this, he was a hundred percent certain. She wasn't just here to watch for treachery. "You're not one to bother with pleasantries, or words. You want to know something."

She shrugged. "You said the AI forced you to set her free. AI's can't normally control the MJOLNIR."

Interesting. As far as he was aware, John-117 was the only one to ever be assigned an AI. In fact, he had been waiting for her to make her appearance. Smart AI's were effectively living lie detectors; if the Chief simply ordered Cortana to take a quick peek at his bio readings, much of the suspicion could have been laid to rest.

"Not normally, no," he replied. "She controlled mine through the Neural Interface. If I lead you to the Citadel and she's still there, and she decides she doesn't like you, she could have you leap off the tallest building, or put a magnum to your mouth."

"What's keeping her from doing so, if we do find her on that Citadel?"

"Her mood, probably." It felt strange, but even though Alan wished he could have more information to offer to Blue Team, he also liked the idea that they were fumbling in the darkness regarding Millennia. He didn't understand why.

"Yet you're still alive," she pointed out. "How did you do that?"

"The short version? I was lucky; she took a liking like me, and my particular set of skills proved to be useful to her."

"And the long version?"

Alan walked towards her, stepping to the side of the entrance. "Will have to wait for the debriefing. If you're willing to listen, of course."

She slowly stepped to the side, leaving just barely enough room for him to pass through. "That all depends on what you have to say."

Oh, Alan was pretty certain that it was going to be illuminating.

-(++)-


Everyone on the Sahara had gathered in the hangar bay, with the exception of the Prowler Captain and his crew. Apparently, more often than not, UNSC Prowler Captains were promoted and chosen based on their capability to keep a secret. The Sahara's crew knew that Blue Team's mission was none of their business, and kept their distance.

It was a sign of professionalism that Joker really ought to take a look at.

"If you want to find the Citadel, you first need to understand who took it," Spartan Zero-Zero-Three began, leaning over a metal table. He looked…not better, but at least more focused. Jane didn't know what it was. Something about the Spartan, especially compared to John's team, seemed a bit…unsteady.

"The precursor species whom the Covenant worshipped as gods, the Forerunners, created many things that would seem like magic to us. They built things that make the Protheans and the Reapers seem like infants. One of the things they built, more than a hundred thousand years ago, was an extremely advanced Artificial Intelligence, built for war. Details are…vague. Her creators turned against each other, which resulted in the fragmentation and entombment of the AI."

"What do you mean, entombment?" Asked Spartan-104.

"One of her fragments was locked away on a distant world," explained Three. "To be accessed only by a Reclaimer. She had enough power left to pull our ship in. No survivors. She took control over my armour and managed to activate a portal network, before escaping her prison."

Shepard listened to the Spartan, fascinated by his tale. He explained how this AI took him to several alien worlds, where she plundered the Extranet and the Codex, learning at an incredible pace, but never finding what – or as Three thought, who – she was looking for. Her plans saw them locating and then assassinating the Shadow Broker himself, and when one of the Spartans asked who this Shadow Broker really was, Shepard cleared her throat.

"The Shadow Broker was an individual at the head of an immense, extensive organization dealing in information and secrets," she explained, partially to make Three's job easier, but also because she had had several run-ins with the Broker's people. "He works for the highest bidder. Government secrets, black operations, doesn't matter. He was very good at his job."

"The AI plundered his systems while the Shadow Broker, thinking that I was the Master Chief, attacked me," Three then said. "He knew you were working with the Commander, Master Chief. "

"I take it you neutralized him?" Asked John.

Shepard sure hoped so. The Shadow Broker himself…Liara was hunting him, too, back on Illium. A very dangerous adversary to face.

"We crashed to the nearby planet's surface, where we continued our engagement," Three quietly replied. "The Broker was extensively augmented. More machine than flesh. Millen – the AI told me that I was collateral damage. Friendly fire. She rammed the Broker's ship into the planet's surface, intent on vaporising us both."

Shepard leant back in her seat. Betrayal like that had to sting, hateful AI or not. Even if he wasn't a true Spartan like the members of Blue Team, he was made of the same stubborn material as them if he survived having a ship crash into him from orbit.

"How did you survive?" Asked Spartan-087, all but asking the question Shepard was about to ask herself.

"The Spartan Operators aren't known for dying easily," Three replied. Strangely enough, there was no pride in his voice when he claimed that. "She was shocked that I survived, then hacked the two battleships that came to reinforce the Shadow Broker. She dropped them towards the surface as well."

Shepard found herself wincing. Surviving one ship crashing into your position at terminal velocity was nothing short of a miracle. But three? She doubted even John was that lucky.

The next part, though it was probably the only explanation for how Three survived that situation, still took Jane by surprise. The Forerunner AI had offered him a chance to live. She had sent a dropship after him, almost offhandedly, just to see if he could make it.

Evidently, he had.

"I woke up about a day later," Three continued. "It was simple, really. She had use for me, and I was capable enough. Despite her hatred for humanity, she kept me alive after that."

"What about the Citadel?" Shepard then asked. "How does this other Forerunner fit into the picture?"

The Spartan didn't immediately answer, which led Jane to believe that he wasn't telling them everything. "She runs on hatred. It's the only thing that keeps her going. Her hatred for the Forerunner – the Master Builder – made her change tactics. She stopped looking for the past, and begun hunting. More opportunities to put me to good use."

Shepard could definitely see the benefit of having a Spartan by your side if you went hunting. She had pictured the Forerunner AI as this insane, shrieking monstrosity, but she sounded surprisingly human.

She wondered if Three did that on purpose, describing the AI that way.

"And the Citadel?" Asked John.

"She was convinced that the Master Builder would force the galaxy to bow to him. She…said that we should begin looking for allies who could resist him, but that was just a distraction."

Allies who could resist a Forerunner…something told Jane that statement wasn't entirely a lie. Three still hadn't explained the origin of that unknown woman. The woman who had her face.

"I don't know why she did what she did," Three eventually spoke again. He seemed distracted now, as if he had difficulty recalling everything that happened. "It's a long story, and I can't share every detail. In the end, the AI began wondering why the Master Builder tolerated the Terminus Systems. The person she knew would have united the galaxy with force…that was the thing. She thought this was important. The Master Builder refrained from conquering the Terminus Systems."

Which was strange, since the Forerunner had several Covenant fleets at his disposal. He had no difficulty getting his hands on dangerous but powerful people. Hell, the first week he publicly executed dozens of individuals who could have posed a threat to his regime.

Jane had the feeling she was missing something obvious, something very important, but she just couldn't see it.

"I don't know why she took the Citadel, but I think I know where she took it," Three then finished. "Whatever happened to the station, it's not cold yet. It's active, and people noticed. I was in the process of…interrogating these people, when the geth landed."

"Could this AI have hacked those geth?" Asked Spartan-104. "Sent them to silence you?"

"No," Three firmly said. "It's not her."

"You sound very sure of that," commented 087.

Three levelled a glare at her, but didn't further respond.

Interesting, Shepard thought. "So, where are we headed then?"

The Spartan stood straight. "She would have taken the station away from the Builder's prying eyes, somewhere where she could do her thing in private. The Terminus Systems. A small organization within the Blue Sun mercenary organization kept a tight dossier on the activities of the notorious pirate queen Aria T'Loak. Familiar name, Commander?"

Jane frowned, wondering what gave her away. She didn't think her response was that overt, but recognition was simply a pain in the ass to hide. "We had words. What did you learn?"

"A Covenant Fleet appeared in the Omega Nebula, demanding answers from T'Loak. She directed them towards two locations: the Perseus Veil and Sigurd's Cradle. And what does this galaxy associate the Perseus Veil with?"

"The geth," muttered Shepard.

"Exactly."

"Then that's our next target," John said. "Blue-Three, inform the Captain of our next coordinates. Perseus Veil, near the Mass Relay."

"One more thing," Three then said, while the Spartan identifying as Blue-Three – 104, Shepard believed – left to inform the crew. "I don't know what happened on the Citadel before it left…"

His voice trailed off, and Shepard answered the unspoken question. "A warzone. Reports say that, before the Covenant dropped in to secure survivors, the entire station turned into death-trap. Anything remotely hackable was used to kill as many people as possible. Drones, machines that nobody recognized, you name it."

"We're not likely to find survivors. The Citadel itself will be a death-trap. How do you plan on "getting it back"?"

"We're not," replied Shepard. "We mark its location, let someone else worry about retrieving it."

"We cannot risk Forerunner technology falling into the wrong hands," John then immediately said. "We will help you tag the Citadel, but that AI comes with us."

Well, that blew a perfectly structured hole into her plan…"And that brings us back to "how to get to the homicidal AI" again. "

In all honesty, Jane wasn't even sure if the UNSC could be trusted with such technology. But John was going against everything he knew, helping her here. She needed to show him some trust in return.

"Well, Three, any ideas?" Blue-Four then spoke up, for the first time since Shepard saw her.

The other Spartan crossed his arms. "Shepard is right. This is more important than a balance of power. Whoever houses her, we need Millennia Never Falling on our side when the Reapers come."

Millennia Never Falling…not the kind of name Jane pictured an AI would have.

"I think I know where this is going," commented Blue-Two. "You're the only one who can interact with this thing without immediately dying."

"Not necessarily," Three retorted. "The Master Chief has extensive experience working with AI's." He turned to look at John, then added, "Your…altered neural structure might not protect you, but it might deter her."

Shepard presumed he was talking about his augmentations, but John's response refuted that.

"The rest of Blue Team is not similarly equipped. Neither is Commander Shepard."

"I don't have power armour for this AI to take over," Shepard quickly said. "I could go as well."

"Do you have anything electronic on you?" Three replied. "Omni-tool? Prosthetic? Any form of cybernetic implants?"

Shepard wanted to argue that she could just leave her omni-tool behind, but then reconsidered when she realized what the Spartan meant. She had enough cybernetic implants for an AI as advanced as this one to turn her into a meat puppet.

"…no, damnit," she said with a sigh. "Fine. Guess it'll be just you two boys on the Citadel."

John and Three glanced at each other. The former was used to being called that, but the latter likely not.

She'd give it some time. In the meantime, she had to get prepared for the coming mission. The Perseus Veil…Legion had told her that the hostile geth were the Heretics, the ones who believed the Reapers could help them attain their true future.

The Reapers and the Forerunners were more closely intertwined than she believed. If they got a hold of the AI…they would be literally unstoppable. If only to deny the Reapers their prize, they had to find it.

-(++)-


Perseus Veil

Data gathered by the reconnaissance drones allowed the geth cruiser designated U-14 to acquire a target lock on the enemy vessel designated Covenant Frigate 1-03. It fired its linear mass accelerators, syncing up with cruisers U-01 through U-07 to overwhelm its barriers.

Analysing structural weaknesses in Frigate 1-03.

Unable to achieve consensus.

The platforms that made up cruiser U-14 scanned the hundreds of elements scattered around the Old Machine Station and assessed the damage done to the Frigate 1-03.

Assessing 1-03 shield strength.

Consensus achieved. Covenant Frigate 1-03 protected by shield systems more potent than kinetic barriers. Proceed with further fire.

Covenant Frigate 1-03 then proceeded to return fire. It targeted cruiser designated U-04. Cruiser U-04 attempted evasive manoeuvres, but the enemy projectiles trailed them. Cruiser U-04 detonated as the anomalous plasma boiled through its kinetic barriers and ate into its armour.

Acquiring targetdistance 100 kilometres – targeting data synced.

The cruisers fired again. The second salvo successfully depleted Covenant Frigate 1-03's shields. Its armour held against the sustained barrage for approximately eight seconds before buckling. Frigate 1-03 crumpled under the mass accelerator impacts, until fire blossomed across its sides.

New target acquired. Designation of target: Covenant Cruiser Class-2, Cruiser 1-01.

Cruiser 1-01 was more than twice the size of cruiser U-14. It appeared within the visual range of dreadnought X-1 and immediately opened fire. Within U-14's tactical overlay, two cruisers disappeared when cruiser 1-01 struck them with unidentified energy weapons. The last data streamed from the cruisers, split-seconds before they exploded, was that of a scalpel-like beam of energy cutting through their drive cores and other sensitive systems with lethal precision.

None of the programs operating those cruisers managed to find a carrier wave to a nearby ship in time to escape the destruction.

That was when the programs closest to the Old Machine Station intercepted a transmission, coming from the combat zone designated "Presidium".

Old Machine Signal increasing in strength. Proceed with mission objectives?

Consensus achieved – continue attempts to contact the Old Machine.

-(++)-


Perseus Veil

In system around Citadel Station

Shadow of Intent

"Fire forward energy projectors, target geth Five, geth Seven and geth Ten!" Rtas'Vadum ordered his crew.

The Assault Carrier's powerful Pinch fusion reactors experienced a considerable drain in energy as it charged the lances of destruction. Space around the Carrier lit up as great maelstroms of energy erupted in violet flashes of light, before several razor-thin beams of blue-white struck the targeted vessels.

Their kinetic barriers proved to be next to useless. The destructive energy tore through their hulls, blazing their internal decks to atoms and shattering the ships into hazes of glowing particles.

But there were many more to take their place. What these geth ships lacked in quality, they made up for in quality. Many hundreds of their arthropod-like warships flooded the space around the Citadel, outnumbering Vadum's fleet six to one.

The machines were almost zealous in their attempts to claim their prize. Even with their reinforcements, the Fleet of Retribution had yet to purge these soulless machines from the Veil.

"Plasma lines are recharged!" His lieutenant, Vul'Soran, barked. "Targets, Shipmaster?"

The Veil itself concealed many of the geth's ships. Whenever their mighty Dreadnoughts were located, they were immediately destroyed. However, many capital ships remained, and the Citadel would not be secure until they had been dashed to the winds.

"Target the flank of the fleet, there. Geth Eleven through Sixteen. Fire when ready!"

Just like their Citadel counterparts, the geth vessels were fast, heavily armed and not well defended. The Intent's lateral lines, now warm again, released a salvo of plasma that arced towards the geth ships.

Their plasma torpedoes chased down the agile ships and annihilated them. Lacking the armour plating to sufficiently protect them, these smaller ships were blasted into oblivion by sheer thermal and kinetic forces.

Rtas'Vadum sighed, weary from two long days of fighting. The Intent's shields were holding at forty percent and their damage was negligible, but the Fleet of Retribution lost almost a full third of their forces. Smaller ships like Frigates and Destroyers, mostly, but each loss reduced their effectiveness, while the geth could lose a hundred warships like it was nothing.

And all the while, that anomalous signal from the Citadel was growing stronger. The intelligence on the station was calling for reinforcements, and the Shipmasters from the Fleet of Retribution wondered of the geth were the only beings to respond to its cry for help.

Flashes of plasma torpedoes and energy projectors illuminated the Veil. Explosions lit up the surrounding space in blinding, bluish hazes and ships disintegrated in thousands of molten pieces. Pulse lasers tracked and destroyed enemy fighters and massive discharges of urpeon superheavy plasma lances speared geth Dreadnoughts.

The mighty ORS-Class heavy cruiser Tongues of Flames had taken many dozens of hits, but each time it managed to manoeuvre the Veil to disengage before the mass accelerator projectiles penetrated its hull. Each time it returned, her crew more furious and vicious than before, to lay waste to the geth fleets. Its sixteen plasma torpedo launchers and five energy projectors constantly lashed out and punished the ships that attempted to engage it. Its eighty pulse lasers swatted projectiles and fighters alike from existence, so that it and it alone could dominate the void.

Seeing such vaunted warships in action invigorated the crews of the remaining fifty Sangheili warships. Discipline, training and combat stimulants had kept them focused for two days of nonstop fighting, but 'Vadum knew that even the mighty Sangheili fleet could not hold this position forever. The Mass Relay spat out fleet after fleet, with no end in sight. 'Vadum was certain that they sent more than eight-hundred geth ships to oblivion already.

"Shipmaster, Slipspace signature!" Exclaimed Soran. "Tracking now!"

Rtas stared at his viewscreen, puzzled. A ship appeared in-system through a very subdued Slipspace effect, almost imperceptible even to the Intent's advanced scanners. And just as quickly as it appeared, it disappeared again. It didn't leave via another Slipspace jump, it wasn't destroyed, it simply vanished from all sensors.

Stealth ships, realized 'Vadum. It couldn't be the geth, as those machines were bound by the Mass Relay network as well. That suggested Sangheili reinforcements, or UNSC humans.

Or worse, the Shipmaster realized. After all, the fiend aboard the Citadel was of Forerunner make as well. This new contact could spell catastrophe for them all!

Then, Rtas' mandibles parted in an angry grin. "Send orders to the Wreathed in Silence. I want that stealth vessel hunted down."

"Yes, Shipmaster!"

Whoever this newcomer was, it would soon find out that it was not the only one with stealth technology.

-(++)-


The Citadel had not been sealed off, like it supposedly had when Sovereign besieged it, two years ago. It hung there ominously, surrounded by a thick cloud of debris. It looked dark, utterly devoid of light. Compared to the last time John visited the massive Reaper station, it almost looked dead.

The Prowler's displays showed dozens of Covenant warships within the system, combating an equally massive geth fleet. None of them seemed to have noticed the small stealth vessel steadily advancing on the Citadel.

Then again, that wasn't necessarily the biggest threat. The fire was thick enough to reduce the Prowler to free-floating atoms by sheer accident.

The Master Chief watched the ancient station on one of the screens, mentally reciting the steps of his plan. He heard someone approach him from behind and turned his head just the slightest of inches to see who it was.

It was Jane. She wordlessly joined him in front of the screen, eying the Citadel with an unreadable expression. "How do you plan to get inside?" She then asked.

John left his COM channel open so that the other Spartans, Three included, could hear his reply. "Three and I will go EVA and use thruster packs to breach the station."

Shepard considered that for a moment. "That's a very ballsy move. Lots of ways it can go wrong, too."

The Chief remembered the first time he and his Spartans used thruster packs to breach hostile infrastructure. Inferior armour, less training and experience, a more dangerous trajectory – by all means, this jump should be a walk in the park.

Yet something about the Citadel seemed more foreboding than the Covenant warship had been. Shepard was right. They'd have to exercise extreme caution. "We have no time, no alternatives. "

Shepard shrugged. "Then I really, really hope Three's right about all of this. Once you're on the station, you'll be on your own the entire time."

While the Chief didn't trust 003 to be completely honest, he was still a Spartan. The Chief could depend on him. "Wouldn't be the first time," he simply replied.

The Commander scrutinized him for a moment. "Let's get moving. Like you said, we don't have time."

The Sahara's single launch bay was almost always used to discreetly lay cloaked fields of nuclear mines of varying yields. It was that launch bay that the Master Chief and number Three began preparing their thruster packs for immediate EVA. The atmosphere had already been pumped out, to avoid explosive decompression when the Sahara dropped the hatch.

Three approached the edge of the ramp, glancing at the Citadel floating in the gold and purple Serpent Nebula. It was a tiny dot in the distance, almost impossible to perceive had the crew of the Sahara not charted its location.

The Master Chief plotted a course, waited until Three confirmed the course, then fired his thruster pack at maximum burn.

Acceleration slammed him into his harness. A waypoint appeared in his HUD, indicating that Three launched as well and was following close behind.

The Citadel grew rapidly in his display. Warships clustered around it, geth and Covenant alike. Silent explosions went off around him as dozens of fighters engaged each other in furious dogfights.

John began deaccelerating and ordered Three to do the same. A hundred meters away, two Covenant Seraphs bombed a geth Frigate, ripping through its Barriers and melting its hull.

This close, the Citadel truly seemed massive. The cities on its outstretched arms grew larger and more detailed as the Chief floated towards them. Even from a distance of several kilometres away he noticed the damage to the station's infrastructure. It looked like the entire arm had been turned into a warzone.

John recalled how the skyscrapers and other structures were hardened against vacuum, as the breathable atmosphere only extended to a height of seven meters.

"Aim for the Presidium," Three's voice whispered over the comm.

The Chief adjusted his course. He felt something tug and settle in his stomach, and the thruster pack suddenly began consuming more fuel.

Did they already pass the station's artificial gravity?

He wouldn't make it to the Presidium in time. Two clicks away and he was already coming dangerously close to brushing against the skyscrapers. He'd have to land soon, or risk plunging into the depths of the Wards understructure.

John tucked his knees in and aimed for the closest building. He fired his thrusters in reverse, rapidly burning through its fuel to counter his momentum.

He crashed against the roof with enough force to crack its tiles and managed to roll to a stop mere inches away from the edge. The impact jarred him, but he gritted his teeth and climbed back to his feet. Below him, the skyline of the Wards was completely devoid of traffic. No cars, no drones, nothing.

Three's waypoint indicated that he ended up almost a full kilometre further ahead. John assumed that the Spartan already corrected his own course before transmitting where they needed to go.

"Callsigns only from now on," John ordered. "Your designation will be Grey-One, mine will be Blue-One. Confirm."

After a few moments of silence, Three's voice crackled over the COM. "Grey-One confirms."

The Chief nodded, satisfied that this new Spartan followed his orders without questioning them.

He checked the amount of fuel left in his thruster pack, then estimated the distance between the top of the building and the ground below.

More than enough fuel left for a soft landing, but getting back to the Sahara might become a problem. He'd have to worry about that once they retrieved the AI.

…the AI…

John reached down towards the armoured pocket attached to his left shoulder. Inside of it was his dog tag, with Cortana's data chip attached to it.

This Forerunner AI reached out to Cortana once, back on the Normandy. Back then, he put the conversation aside to focus on the mission. But now that the entire galaxy seemed to revolve around the actions of the Master Builder and Millennia Never Falling, that contact between Cortana and her seemed that much more out of place.

Maybe…maybe she could fix Cortana. Set right what went wrong. If she was powerful enough to uproot the status quo of the galactic community this much, she could also be powerful enough to bring Cortana back.

For a second, John felt something akin to hope well up within his stomach. He caught himself immediately after, however, and sighed. He forced himself to banish that thought from his mind and suppressed his emotions. Cortana was…not the priority right now. Thinking like that was dangerous. He had a duty to fulfil, first.

The Chief had never loathed the idea of putting the mission first as much as he did now. As it was, he had made Cortana a promise. And he had every intention of keeping it.

-(++)-


The eerie silence was undisturbed by the slow, steady movement of a steel grate being heaved from its frame. A dark figure lowered himself from the resulting opening in the ceiling, slowly unfolding itself as it dropped down.

Spartan-003 landed in a crouch and scanned his surroundings. He had nothing on his visual sensors, radar and thermal vision, but his motion sensor showed a small handful of targets moving around in the offices around his location.

"Grey-One in position," he said over a private COM channel to the Master Chief.

"Blue-One on the move," the Chief's hard, gravelly voice responded. "Confirm your surroundings."

It was a massacre. Puddles of blood and pieces of meat lay scattered across the ground. The only bodies that had been left behind were those too mangled to even recognize. The lights were constantly flickering, casting grotesque shadows on the walls.

It felt like the aftermath of a typical Covenant invasion, compressed into a smaller location. The silence, however, was new. Strangely soothing. The aftermath of his own handy-work.

Alan shook the memories off. "Civilian area, nearing the Embassies. No survivors. It's a mess."

"Understood. Continue your search, Grey-One."

Alan once read in the Codex that the Citadel was the heart of galactic civilization, the very picture of cultural and political power. Untouchable for centuries. Now, it finally joined humanity in the endless cycle of death and violence. The closest body missed all four of her limbs, and her lower jaw was missing. There was no way this place held any survivors.

Millennia, what have you done?

Without any clear way to start, the Spartan headed down the closest hallway. More body parts lay scattered across the ground there. A charred arm, a blue patch of blue flesh in a puddle of purple blood and something lying against the door at the end of the hallway.

Alan slowly crept closer, keeping his assault rifle trained on the body. It looked like a human, but a horribly mutated one. Tumorous growths had erupted along the body's spinal column and bundles of pulsing cables connected from its head to its neck. The body's skin was blue and grey, sickly and scorched. The cause of death was obvious; a hole the size of a dinnerplate had been blown through its chest.

The Spartan kicked the body aside and opened the door, before taking cover at the side. The room was a large one, with a security booth to the left and a row of terminals to the right. Another mutated body lay on the ground, but this one was completely intact.

Even in his current state, Alan could sniff out an ambush from a mile away. He shot the "corpse" and watched as it gurgled and crawled back to its feet, moaning in a distorted, flanged voice.

The Spartan backed away and put a short burst into the creature's head. The 7.62mm armour-piercing tore its head apart, and it crashed to the deck again.

It was a strange, disturbing sight. Though Alan had never personally clashed with the Flood, Operator Maine-007 had. He claimed that Combat Forms would often play dead, before suddenly rising when he had his back turned. These things certainly didn't look like Flood, but they came frighteningly close.

"Grey-One to Blue-One," he spoke into his COM. "Ran into hostile contact. Mutated or augmented civilians."

His only response was static.

"Grey-One to Blue-One, come in," he tried again.

More static. Something was jamming their transmissions.

The Spartan moved through the room with his weapon at the ready, giving the corpse a wide berth. His attention was drawn to a large monitor hanging in the security checkpoint. It glowed a dark blue. Large, empty eyes stared at him from the screen. Something pulsed in the back of his neck, near his Neural Interface.

The next second it was gone, and the screen was dead.

Alan slowly clenched his fist. Tension seeped into his shoulders. That did not look like Millennia. Something else was in the system.

Entities far beyond the Master Builder

Millennia's warning was still fresh in his thoughts. The Citadel, along with the entire Mass Relay network, was based on Reaper technology. Commander Shepard was convinced that the Reapers were coming. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe they were already here. Maybe a part of them had always been here.

Alan came across a set of heavy doors, likely sealed by C-Sec to ward off intruders. The polymerized lithium niobocene layer between the external armour and internal padding of his MJOLNIR, combined with the force-multiplying circuits running throughout the armour, allowed him to easily pry them open. He kept them ajar wide enough to let himself through.

It seemed he finally reached the inner layer of the Presidium ring, where the buildings had been constructed along its curving walls. Past several sets of shops, apartment entrances and other structures, the Spartan could see the darkened "sky" of the Presidium's interior. The infrastructure here was utterly thrashed. The cold air reeked of sewage, death and burnt plastic. A thick, smoky haze gathered near the ceiling, like a remnant of some long spent fire.

Most of the screens that dotted the hallways had long been destroyed. The few that were operational displayed nothing but gibberish. The unmistakable scarring of bullet holes covered the edges of walls and framed doorways. What were once wide pools of blood were now simply blackened outlines on the floor.

Alan didn't have the time to take it all in. Something responded to his arrival. Rapid footsteps echoed throughout the room as hostiles rushed towards his position. Three of those same, humanoid monstrosities rushed towards him. Naked, their skin a sickly grayish-blue, mutilated by cybernetic implants and tumours. They moaned and groaned in pain as they shambled towards him.

Alan had no choice but to purge the lot of them. His rifle snapped from the left to the right as he put a 7.62mm round through their chests and skulls. The armour-piercing rounds shredded their bodies with ease.

He backed away through the doors he came through just as the last of the freaks fell at his feet, clutching at his ankle with twisted, meaty fingers.

The province of the most elite and powerful individuals…

A flash appeared in front of his eyes, almost subliminal, like some form of visual hallucination. A tiny blink in the corner of his eye. Alan assumed it was a part of his body's stress management, and continued onwards.

But the visual oddities didn't subside. They became more frequent with every passing minute, more detailed this time. Horizontal streaks of light crossing the edges of his vision, patterns of light and dark.

He heard voices whispering at him, vague and barely audible. Even to him, this was new.

At the edge of the Wards, he spotted a large pile of bodies, all of which were mutilated. No blood, however. Were they killed here, or merely moved here?

He glanced over to his left and saw two shadows dancing across the wall, moving towards him. A heartbeat later, his motion tracker showed two contacts heading towards him.

The Spartan backed away into the nearest shadows, before slowly kneeling down and raising his rifle. He waited until the two contacts came within visual range, expecting more cybernetic corpses.

The two figures that stepped inside of the complex were different, however. They looked like they had been the victim of some gruesome accident, forcing someone to replace every lost piece of tissue with crudely-welded metal. Their arms and legs were crudely designed, looking more like jagged lumps of metal than actual prosthetics. Pieces of mechanical parts protruded from their skin and circled around their bodies. The augmentations were so severe that it was next to impossible to tell if they were asari, humans or even drell, let alone their gender. Blood coated the sections where flesh and machine embraced each other.

Upon entering the Spartan's section of the Wards, the two cyborgs collectively raised their right arms. They moved slowly and clumsily, like they weren't used to the weight of their bodies.

Their sight repulsed Alan. He was tempted to immediately pull the trigger and tear them apart, to destroy this abomination, this mockery of life. This wasn't Millennia's work, he was certain of that.

This only served to strengthen his suspicion that the Citadel housed something else, something that he could only describe as evil. Was this why she took this station away? To challenge this evil herself, on her own?

He had to know what was happening. For that, he needed to put himself in the spotlights and attract some attention.

The complete opposite of his usual MO, in fact.

He brought his rifle to his shoulder, slowly exhaled and gently pulled the trigger. The burst of fire shredded the face of the first hostile, but the second hostile shifted towards his position. He caught the outline of a barrel, built into its arm, and immediately vacated his location.

Bits of plastic and metal flew as the whine of mass accelerator fire slammed into the wall. Alan quickly put a sustained burst of fire into the second hostile's head, then shot the first one again just to be sure.

He took a deep breath. What he was about to do, clashed with everything he knew.

"Millennia, I'm here to get you out," he yelled, sweeping his surroundings for more unpleasant surprises. Not just threats, but also anything that might give away what sort of Artificial Intelligence was prowling around the Citadel.

The lights flickered, then suddenly activated all around him, bathing the Presidium in pale, blue light. Every operational display went blank for a second, before showing a cascade of sapphire characters and numbers.

"You are not meant to be here."

The voice poured from every speaker, from every screen, from the PA speaker and every corridor around him. It sounded more like a chorus of different voices – male, female and something else. Something he couldn't quite place.

"I won't let you interfere again."

The Spartan wheeled around, pointing his rifle at the numerous open doorways and corridors, looking for threats.

"None of you are ready. None of you may choose. The Cycle continues."

Alan knew enough. He orientated himself towards the Presidium and took off running.

-(++)—


Sector designated "Bahak System"

The Geth Surveillance Frigate 12-LE, shrouded in a natural trench of a barren dwarf planet, was equipped with the most cutting-edge scanning and stealth technology that the geth could produce. Unperceivable and untraceable, it had been tasked with mapping out the system designated by the organic species as the "Bahak System".

That changed when they received a priority transmission from the main fleet, stationed at the Old Machine Station.

RESOLVING ENCRYPTUON KEY

TRANSMITTING MESSAGE

"None of you are ready. None of you may choose. The Cycle continues."

The Cycle continues.

The programs within Frigate 12-LE immediately reached consensus: usher in the return of the Old Machines.

Now that the Bahak System was almost devoid of organic warships, Surveillance Frigates 12-LB and 11-L started the modifications to Relay 258's controls uncontested. Within five Citadel hours, the Relay would begin gathering unprecedented amounts of dark energy.

Within five Citadel hours, the Old Machines would finally return to the galaxy, and the geth would reach perfection at last.

-(++)—


AN: I've been sitting on the draft of this chapter even before the six month hiatus. I've had a couple of weekends to tweak it and I think it worked out fine. Yet another massive cliff-hanger, however. I'm sorry; it just has to be this way.

I don't know when the next update comes. With some luck, it will be up at the end of December, just in time to be a Christmas present. I hope.

As always, drop a review or a PM and let me know what you think!