Author's Notes

I wrote most of this entire story on a fluke just for fun. Never imagined anyone would be reading it, let alone enjoy it. So thank you to everyone who is digging the story so far! Just a quick note, I always appreciate feedback. And I also take suggestions, though I may not publicly admit who has inspired me with their comments. Truth is, the story has already evolved based on your feedback.

Keep this in mind though; a lot of this was written separately. Most of what I have been doing involves pushing two pieces of the story together and writing in the middle. This reduces a LOT of time as far as how quickly chapters are coming out but it also means that, at a certain point, chapters will start to slow as I'm writing everything from scratch at that point. But I'm also being as thorough as my sanity and patience allows. I wanted to throw references and facts in there that the casual reader might not even notice. Such as the title of this chapter, the layout of the ships, dialogue, etc.

Also, sorry for the really, almost painfully slow, introductory period you're all in right now. It will pick up within the next few chapters and I intend to keep the action and intrigue up from that point on.

Thank you for reading!

Chapter 3 - Article 428-A /Unauthorized

"Your destruction is the will of the Gods... and we are their instrument."

— The Covenant's first transmission to humanity, after the glassing of Harvest.

Arcturus Station - 1 year, 9 months ago

Hackett's Office

Admiral Steven Hackett ran his calloused hands underneath the cool water flowing from the sink. Cupping some, he splashed it on his face, relishing the small shock to his nervous system. At his age, anything to wake up was appreciated. 'It's not the age, it's the mileage,' he reminded himself. He turned the water off and grabbed the hand towel to his left, brushing the water from his face and hands.

When he'd been informed of the meeting, he wasn't told what it was for. He'd only been told that it was important, it was secret, and it was mandatory. There were very few people or groups who could make demands of an Admiral, even less that could do it without mentioning who they were. But he'd called in some favors as well. Not a chance he was walking into this blind. Even among intelligence, his name held considerable weight.

An Alliance spook of some kind and a wormy looking man had shown up at his office and started giving him a physics lesson on quantum entanglement, transmissions, and dimensions. He'd listened for all of 15 minutes before excusing himself to his private office bathroom where he now stood.

He took a deep breath, then exhaled forcefully. It was time to change the tune of this conversation.

He turned and opened the door, quickly moving across the room and resumed his seat at his desk. He interlocked his fingers and placed them on the large desk in front of him and appraised his new guests.

The spook had barely spoken. She was a raven-haired girl, maybe mid-30's. The way she walked, the few words she'd spoken, and her overall demeanor had screamed military but she hadn't given him her name. Only her title of Captain. She stood maybe 5' 3", petite and lean, but otherwise attractive. The wormy fellow who sat to her left hadn't done anything except talk. A balding man, he wore a lab coat and an easy smile. He seemed to get more excited the more gibberish he spoke. Otherwise he was average height, average build, and sandy haired. He went by Doctor Metzger. They both sat silent now.

"Look, Metzger, I appreciate a trip down memory lane to physics class but I've got a full schedule. So why don't you cut to the chase so we can all get fed before the chow hall closes. I'm not supposed to know who either of you are, which means you're both intelligence. How about we start with whatever intelligence you have and what it has to do with me."

Metzger looked from Hackett to the girl. She nodded. Metzger then pulled out his briefcase, clicked it open, and pulled out several folded prints of paper. The Admiral was puzzled at seeing such an archaic medium. Their computer systems were among the most advanced in known space so he wondered at the use of paper. He allowed the doctor to stand and spread the papers on the desk.

The Admiral looked them over. Blueprints, he saw. There were calculations, dimensions, approximate materials needed, and build times for each. He wasn't sure what he was looking at. He tried to read them.

"Oscillating something magnets, something pitched plasma... Ionizing field... Deuterium particles... And now I'm bored." He was getting frustrated. "Metzger, I'll ask one last time or you can see yourself out. What do you want?"

"Of course. Sorry, sir," he said speaking quickly. "Not long ago this very station was contacted by an unknown entity via QEC communication. They somehow linked into the particles between here and an Alliance vessel."

"The Dresden. I remember the incident. I was informed it was a fluke. One in a trillion chance."

"Officially? True. But when our division heard of it, we took the particle and began talking back. They responded. We've been in constant communication with them ever since. Even sharing technology."

"Goddamn spies," Hackett muttered. "You've been sharing Alliance technology with some mystery pen pal? What possible reason could you have to compromise our security?"

"Well... Uh... I'll continue. Just... bear with me for a moment. They identified only as the usual suspects. As we started trading information, we treated it like any other first contact with a new species. But they spoke our language, though we are not sure how just yet. And after they received our first contact package, they began sending us details of new technologies. And we shared in kind. This one, for instance," he said and pointed to the print on Hackett's left. "Is a fusion powered shielding system. This one," and he pointed to the one just to the right of the first. "Is an FTL engine that relies on opening a wormhole instead of crossing space. We estimate a speed of between 2 to 3 light-years per day. And that last one, is a magnetically charged weapon with amazing yield, far beyond anything we have. Or any known race for that matter."

Hackett rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He was quickly moving from frustrated to angry.

"Is this a joke? I was under the impression we already had all of this. Hell, our FTL drives are more than 7 times faster than that. You're telling me you're trading pearls for peanuts. Someone explain to me, quickly, the reasoning here or you can spend some time in my brig."

The two looked at each other across from the Admiral. The silent spy nodded again at Metzger who then looked back to Hackett.

"Sir... What they've given us... It requires no element zero to operate," he said nervously.

Hackett looked blankly between the two, pausing at what he'd just heard. His brow quickly furrowed and his gaze went from his guests to the room around him while he tried to come to terms with this new information. Realization of the implications of element zeroless technology dawned on him quickly. He didn't even know this was possible but he wasn't one to get ahead of himself.

"Okay. Let's say I believe you. Why give us this?"

The woman finally broke her silence. "Admiral, first, you don't have the authority to arrest either of us. Second, the truth is we don't know. They've given us no reasons. And they haven't asked for any element zero, before you ask. They gave us the shield, no strings attached. They've only asked for a chemical description, molecular makeup, and any research papers written on element zero. Our theory is that they believe they can fabricate it. We believe that to be impossible but.. so was FTL without eezo before all this. When we sent it the information, we received everything else you see here."

"Fine," he said. "So the SAIC has made decisions for all of us without a heads up and without a single thought to the consequences... Why are you in my office telling me about it."

"You know the value of secrecy, Admiral. I was briefed on some of your history. And we needed a military liaison. Parliament wouldn't approve a budget for us that any one of these items would require to develop. Especially since we don't usually handle anything tangible..." she left the sentence hanging.

"But they'd approve an increase in military spending if I presented this to them as potential defensive assets. Is that the game here?" Hackett asked.

She nodded. "I was told you were smart. I'm glad to see that it's true."

"I'm also opinionated," he spat back. "I don't like the circumstances surrounding this. And I damn sure don't like either of you."

He let his statement linger and gauged their reactions. The scientist shifted, clearly uncomfortable with the situation. The woman didn't move an inch and he liked her even less for the smile she wore. All that aside, the potential advantages here were just too big to pass up.

"I'll do this because what they give us may very well protect lives. But I expect a report on this desk detailing every conversation you've had with these usual suspects. I want updates every step of the way, expense reports, and I want access to where this is taking place. If I don't like what I see, I will pull the plug."

Her condescending smile never wavered. "Admiral, we're trusting you with this. We expect the same in return. For now, all you need is what we're showing you."

"I apologize if you got the impression there was room to negotiate," he said. "I don't have the time for it. You will meet every request I make or this opportunity goes up in flames."

She leaned forward in her seat, still wearing the smug smile. "Admiral, I'm sure you realize that this is all beyond even you. Your position only goes so far here and if not you, there's always someone more agreeable. Just say yes."

"You must be new to the SAIC or you'd know my position has nothing to do with it. I didn't get to this desk with clean hands."

She sighed as if bored. "Admiral, is this really necessary? I was only making sure I was being clear."

"Then let me be equally clear, Captain Woods. Or do you prefer Erica?"

She froze as she heard her own name. She hadn't told Hackett her name, even Metzger didn't know. And it wasn't one of her cover names she used for official purposes. This was her real name. He watched as her smile faded but he wasn't trying to prove a point. He just wanted her attention without the attitude. Her whole face lost any grace and poise it had shown until now. She tried to recover.

"How did you..."

"You don't know how this works, Woods. They told you my name, briefed you on me. It means I'm their choice. They didn't send you here because I'll play your game. They sent you here for three reasons. First, I'm one of maybe four people who can pitch this. Second, I'm one of the few who know first hand how to run an Intel-Marine joint operation AND keep information protected. Third, I've forgotten more about classified materials and intelligence operations than you're ever likely to know. But the real reason is that this would have wound up on my desk either way and I'd have found all this out not matter who was behind it. Keep mistaking me for a fool, and I'll make sure you're off this project. Make no mistake, either of you, you worked for me as soon as your handler sent you to this office."

Her face was slack but her eyes were fuming. The doctor looked about the same but he'd started sweating now.

"While I still have your attention, honored guests, I'll expect that report before the end of the day. Call whoever you need to but the clock is ticking. And get your papers off my desk. Dismissed."

Metzger practically leapt out of his chair and began folding the blueprints in a hurried fashion but Woods just sat there. Hackett remembered being in her shoes a few times. She'd learn or wash out.

"If you think..."

"Dismissed. ...Captain." He held her gaze. She was furious and clearly outside of her element. He pitied her, if only for whichever higher up hadn't briefed her properly before sending her here. She looked away first, turning to see Metzger nervously closing his briefcase.

"We'll be in touch," she said before storming out with her sweating companion scurrying after her.

He sat there, arms crossed now. He knew he could probably pull this off but what 'this' might mean for humanity, he couldn't begin to guess. And who these 'usual suspects' might be bothered him. No one gave anything for free. He rubbed his tired eyes and leaned back, sighing audibly. He hit a button on his desk.

"Yes, Admiral," a voice said. His secretary.

"Lieutenant, get me Anderson. Tell him it's urgent and tell him it'll be a long call."

"Aye, aye, Sir."

The moment the Kodiak landed back on the Normandy, Shepard was out the door. She helped Garrus out and ordered him to the med-bay. Kasumi had taken over, leading the Turian toward the elevator. Shepard stood on her good leg, hands on her hips as she waited for Six. His ship, admittedly damaged, was painfully slow. She finally spotted him in the blackness of space. She had a few things on her mind that she needed to get out in the open.

His craft slowed as he approached. She grimaced as the corner with the dead engine scraped across the floor of the Normandy's shuttle bay before coming to a stop. The engines spooled down. The bay door closed and locked into place. Fresh atmosphere flooded the bay and she reached for her helmet. She fiddled with the seal before the pop and hiss told her it was broken. Glad to be rid of the thing, she set it on a nearby crate. Shepard had underestimated the size of the ship. It was at least 30 feet tall, and maybe just shy of a 100 feet in length. Why had she thought it was smaller than that? Between his ship and their Kodiak, the shuttle bay was practically at full capacity. She waved at him while he powered down the engines.

She heard the back hatch lowering and walked toward the rear of the green-gray machine.

Six was dizzy. The HUD on his cracked visor kept flickering on and off. Damaged beyond repair, he was sure, but he was worried that his Mjolnir would be the least of his troubles. His shields had failed halfway through his one man war on the bridge, his damaged power core was slowly losing power. His Mjolnir was still functional as a force multiplier for now but the movements were jerky, slow. It was only a matter of time before he'd have to ditch it. His breathing was shallow and rapid, pain seeping into every breath. He felt heavy. His HUD flickered on long enough to let him know his health readout was red and flashing. Less than 15% by his suits estimation.

He looked up from the cockpit and saw Shepard wave at him. He was well past his limits. He only hoped a UNSC outfit was nearby. Otherwise, things were about to get complicated.

'You're on your own,' Carter's voice shot through his mind.

He ignored the stray thought with practiced efficacy. He braced and lifted himself off the seat and caught himself with the wall of the Pelican. He steadied himself and looked down at his seat, now marked with blood. He was leaking through the biofoam now and it only went so far to begin with. He hit the back hatch button and slowly exited the Pelican.

Shepard rounded the corner with a smile to greet her new friend. Might as well start friendly until she knew more. Someone like that could be useful, at least until they found his people and returned him. And she was curious, she had to admit. The circumstances surrounding him were a mystery and she loved solving mysteries. She wanted the whole story. Her eyes met his visor and her smile faded.

She looked down and saw his armor under the fluorescent light of her ship and saw what she had missed in the low lights of the alien craft. Crimson streaks were congealing along his armored legs, bloody boot prints followed him from his seat to where he stood at the bottom of the ramp. He stood straight as an arrow, moving as if oblivious to his own injuries. She had seen the color of the blood in the aliens on the derelict. And although the giant had plenty of all of their colors on his armor also, none of them had been red.

"Oh, shit," she said. She rushed forward instinctively but stopped short when he took a step back.

She had worry written all over face. "What?"

"I'm fine," was all it said.

"Bullshit! Get your ass to the med bay. Have Chakwas check you out."

"I'll wait until we get to a UNSC station."

"Yeah, about that. I've never heard of it. EDI! Can you do a search for UNSC?"

"United Nations Space Command," he said aloud.

The giant didn't seem perturbed in the least when the voice of the VI responded. "Extranet has many listings for the acronym UNSC. However, United Nations Space Command has no listings."

The giant shook its head. "Don't play games with me, Commander. I don't have the patience."

The Commander walked right up to the giant and poked a finger in it's chest. Her eyes were narrow, face stern. "Listen, Six. First, I'm not playing at anything. Second, and let me make myself abundantly clear, if you threaten me, my ship, or anyone else on it, my kindness ends. You attempt to carry out on any threats, and I can promise it will be the last action you take in this life. Now," she said, removing her finger and straightening up. Her face resumed a neutral expression. "We can worry about all that later. I don't know how things work where you're from, but here, on this ship, I'm in charge. And while you're my guest, you'll do as I say. This isn't a request. You can help me find this UNSC all you want. But first, you WILL report to the med bay. Dr. Chakwas is certified in multiple species' biology and is competent enough to get you patched back up, probably better than new. Again, not a request. Am I making myself clear?"

He gave no indication he was the least bit worried about her. She failed to see the smile play at the corners of his mouth behind his visor. He glanced at his HUD. His health had dropped again. Internal bleeding.

"Okay, Commander. I'll need access to the... Extranet, I think your AI said. And I'll see your medic. But no medical information will be recorded. My armor will not leave my sight. And no one enters the Pelican. All of them are property of the UNSC military and will be defended."

One word caught her off guard even more than the casual mention of an AI. "Pelican?"

He gestured at his ship.

"Ah. Stupid name. Sure. Whatever. You have my word. Now, can we please go to the med bay? You're staining my deck."

He looked down and noticed his boot prints as if finally aware he wasn't entirely okay after all. He looked up and nodded. She made her way to the elevator and he followed. Even injured and with a slight limp, it unnerved her how quietly he moved. She turned several times to make sure he was actually still there. She hit the elevator and the door slid open. They both stepped inside and she hit the button for the '3rd deck.' It was an uncomfortable silence as they rode up. She kept looking at him, wondering what was under the armor. What did this thing look like? Did it breathe like they did? Would she have the proper food? She supposed the answers would come after the medical workup.

The doors opened to the third deck and she stepped out with the giant behind her. There were conversations around her, crew hanging out or playing cards, eating at the ships mess. Everything went quiet when the thing behind her stepped into view. Everything stopped. Everyone stared.

"As you were," Shepard said loudly. Everyone pointedly resumed their activities but no conversations were being held now. They all stole glances as she walked her latest guest to the med bay.

The door opened and there in the first bed lay her favorite, overly-talkative mercenary. Miranda had occupied the far bed. Garrus was on a stool as the Doctor looked like she was just finishing up.

"You'll be fine. Just a concussion. Don't go to sleep for the next 24 hours, drink fluids, and see me at once if your symptoms worsen."

"Thank you," he responded and stood to exit. The Turian's eyes caught Six's faceplate. Shepard could feel Six tense behind her. Garrus widened his eyes, as much as a Turian can do such a thing. Shepard reached to her side and placed a hand on Six's arm. The giant snapped to look down at her. She held his gaze. He relaxed after a moment. Garrus, who clearly didn't want to stick around, sheepishly slid by the two.

"Garrus," Shepard halted him. "You gonna be alright?"

"Yeah, just a headache really."

"Glad you're okay, buddy. I hate to ask, but our new friend here wants to access the extranet. Can you grab a spare omnitool?"

"Sure thing," he said with a nod toward Six as he kept walking.

Shepard moved into the bay as Chakwas, apparently oblivious to their presence, moved toward Miranda.

"Hey, Zaeed," Jane said.

She had to admit, he didn't look half bad. He'd gotten his color back and he greeted her with a smile.

"Hey, Shepard."

"How are you feeling?"

"Like I could wrestle a Krogan." He lifted his gown. "Check that out, huh," he said. His scar ran all the way from the left side of below his sternum all the way around to his back. He eyeballed Six. "Gonna be a great addition to my collection. Who's the monster?"

"Oh, right. You were out. Zaeed, this is Six. Six, Zaeed." They nodded at each other. "Six saved our asses. The thing that tagged you took almost all of us out. Six showed up and took it down."

"Yeah, I heard something about that. You're a big goddamn bastard but that other thing was huge. Thanks for the help. I can't be the only one to save the day every time the Commander lands in hot water."

Six actually responded, surprising the Commander. "Is she in danger often?"

The Merc laughed. "Ha! Look her up sometime. Commander Jane Shepard. See for yourself."

"My God," a voice spoke up from the back of the bay.

Doctor Chakwas practically abandoned Miranda for Six. She took him in from head to toe. "I assume there's a way to get that armor off of you. Quickly, please. You're bleeding on my work space." She just stared at Six, who in turn turned to look at Shepard.

"Hey, I'm only the Commander of the ship. In the Med Bay, she's the queen. But Doctor," Jane added dropping to a whisper. "I want no electronic records. Purge any information you get. His request."

The Doctor nodded. "Yes, yes. Fine. You, tall one. Over there," she snapped and gestured at Miranda's bed.

"Doctor," Miranda said. "You haven't finished my examination."

"And are you bleeding, Miranda? No? Good. Then sit on that stool in the corner and be quiet. I'll get to you when I'm through with..."

"Six," he said.

"Of course it is," the doctor said sarcastically. "Over on the table then. And take all of that off."

Six hobbled over to the bed just as Miranda was leaving it. She bumped into Six rather hard. Or rather, she bounced off of him as he didn't move an inch. He eyed her imperiously.

"Excuse me," she said. She made her way to the door. "Doctor, I'll be in my quarters. You may examine me later. I'm sure you'll be quite busy." She excused herself and took off rather hurriedly toward the elevator. The door to the med bay closed shortly after.

"Huh," Zaeed chimed in. "That was weird."

Six had pulled some type of tool from a pouch. It was a metallic cylinder, about a foot long. He opened the bottom where it appeared as though additional pieces were stored. He pulled one out and attached it to the tip.

"And what is that," Chakwas asked.

"Mjolnir Field Tool," he replied tersely.

He attached it to a point on his shin and went to work. His back was to Jane and Zaeed. He placed it against multiple points on his armor and one after another, they came loose. Jane, who had taken a stool next to Zaeed, noted that there seemed to be a lot of anchor points on that armor. He removed a shin plate assembly and placed it on the ground. It landed with an incredibly heavy thud.

Zaeed leaned to Shepard and said, "that armor must weight a literal ton."

Jane nodded and they both turned their rapt attention. Both were curious what was under there. What did this thing look like? In short order, the giant had both shins, thighs, forearms, upper arms, what Zaeed laughingly referred to as a 'codpiece,' gauntlets, and shoulders arranged on the ground. Doctor Chakwas waited less than patiently, arms crossed and tapping her foot. He hesitated with his chest piece.

"Well," Chakwas said impatiently.

"They're connected. The chest and back piece. There's usually a machine that removes them. They're heavy."

Chakwas pursed her lips and waved Jane over. "Hold one in place, please, so we can get on with it."

"You got it, Doc." Jane threw a mass effect field and clamped the back piece, removing its mass and essentially making it float. Six turned to see what was happening.

"How are you..." But Chakwas cut him off.

"You can speak later. I assure you she's quite capable of holding your armor. Continue."

He glared at an unflinching doctor before continuing. He peeled the chest piece off with a series of clicks and caught it. With another impossibly heavy thud, he placed it on the ground. Shepard slowly lowered the back piece to the ground. When she dispersed the effect field she bent over breathing heavily. Six wasn't kidding, that armor was heavy as hell. As he went to grab his helmet, something caught her eye. There, on the back of his gray helmet, was writing. It looked like it had been done with a permanent marker.

It read "situation = hopeless" in perfectly plain English.

"Wait a minute..." She said quietly. English? Why would Six have English on his helmet? She began to really look over his build and found plantigrade feet, four fingers with an opposable thumb, familiar proportions... But that meant…

With a pop and a hiss, the seal for his helmet came loose and Six pulled it off. She saw the back of his head. There was an electronic connector of some kind on his head but that wasn't what drew the Commander's attention. His skin was sharply pale, alabaster even. She could see there was maybe four weeks worth of hair growth on his head, two ears, and she saw the outline of a jaw with the same four weeks worth of hair growth from the side as she leaned to look more.

Six was human.

"Goddamn," Zaeed whispered.

"Son of a bitch," Shepard said too loudly.

Six turned to look at her. Her mouth hung open, brow furrowed as she looked at her new guest. He had chiseled features but wasn't classically handsome. He was certainly striking. Attractive in his own way, even with the unnaturally pale skin. But those eyes; an inhuman azure stared back at her. She was lost in them for a moment, the broken blood vessel there contrasting the deep blue with bright crimson. His cheeks were sunken and eyes heavily bagged as if he hadn't eaten or slept in days. Weeks, even. He carried several smaller scars, and a couple of larger ones on his face and neck. He had an open gash on his head that was still slowly oozing blood onto his forehead. But what really haunted her was his youth. He couldn't be more than 22, maybe younger. But his face, those eyes, had that same quality as Samara's; ageless and diamond hard. He carried himself in a much older way.

"You may have a seat, Commander, or go on about your business. I'll alert you when I'm ready to take a look at that leg," Chakwas said as she drew a curtain and cut off the Shepard's view.

The last thing Jane saw as the curtain was drawn was Six pulling off his heavy, thick undersuit. Peeled from his shoulders and back, she caught a glimpse of more scars and trauma. He had serious burns everywhere, and what looked like projectile weapons damage. So many scars... He had a sharply defined, Olympian level gymnast's physique. He was sinewy and striated, veins criss-crossing along his neck, arms, and forearms. The pale pallor of his skin was only contrasted by the burns, cuts, and bruising. She saw the doctors face pull tight before her view was cut by the curtain. Shepard just stood and stared at the fabric now obstructing her view, open-mouthed.

"Well, that's not something you see every day," Zaeed said quietly. "He's just a goddamn kid. Did you see those eyes..." He trailed off.

The medbay door opened and there stood Garrus with the omnitool Shepard had entirely forgotten about. He held it out and Shepard took it numbly.

"Shepard, what's wrong?"

"He's human," she whispered.

"Who's human? Zaeed? I don't know if I'd go that far but..."

Jane cut him off, again whispering. "No. Six is human."

The Turian paused. "Huh... I didn't know they made humans that large. What does that mean exactly?"

"I have no idea," the Commander responded. "But I intend to find out.

They could hear a rapid beeping from behind the curtain and muffled voices. Chakwas raised her voice.

"EDI, please inform Dr. Solus that I require his assistance. Immediately."

"At once, Doctor."

Jane, Zaeed, and Garrus all looked at each other.

"Well," Garrus said as he passed the plastic bag with the used omnitool in it to Jane. "See ya."

He turned and strode out the door quickly.

Shepard, sensing the situation may warrant some space, bid her goodbyes to Zaeed and left. She made her way to the elevator, limping slightly but trying not to show any pain. When she entered it and the doors closed, she took stock of everything. She needed to process, time to think. She got to her quarters for now. She had MediGel on here and she figured that was as good of a treatment on her leg as any.

If Six was human, what were the implications here? Had to be Alliance. Some new type of soldier or armor. But why the aliens ship? Why hadn't she known? What else was the Alliance up to?

"EDI, let me know when Chakwas and Mordin are finished with our guest."

"I will, Commander."

Miranda's fingers flew furiously over her terminal. Whatever was on this thing was proving to be a challenge. She'd palmed it when she bumped him in the medical bay. Pulled it right from his pouch. It was a small chip of some sort, data of some kind, she'd guessed. She'd been looking for the orange chip but only came up with this smaller, black one. As soon as she was able, she'd locked herself in her office and tried to connect it. It had taken a few different methods to read it but what stood before her was as fascinating as it was infuriating.

For one, it was coded in some computer language she had never seen before. EDI had mapped it for her but the encryption level and detail on it was extremely complex. EDI had spent the last 10 minutes attempting to crack it. For a VI that was a lifetime and the operative had to admit that to stump EDI for even 5 minutes was impressive. Miranda had spent her time attempting to compile similar codes next to each other and hoping to find a pattern or function. The coding may be alien, but she wasn't some neophyte tech enthusiast either. As she followed the patterns and rearranged their order, she began to see it.

"EDI... Can you arrange this sequence here into a user interface?"

"At once, Ms. Lawson."

The code on her screen compiled and reformed. It was broken and glitchy, clearly incomplete but there it was. She could see readable text that seemed active in the left side of the GUI. It began displaying readouts. It was an operating system of some kind. One after the other, readings cycled through her monitor.

On the left side of her screen it read:

UNSC - OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE

SERVER: ERROR: UNABLE TO CONNECT ::HIGHCOM/ REACH / CASTLE::

CURRENT ACCESS: [::error\\ idhll21xaecraa775782pk::]

Checking file systems... Done.

ERROR: MISSING OR CORRUPT DATA

Checking Security: STATD

Encryption Code: Orange

Location: Unknown (ERROR: NO NETWORK)

Authorization: ERROR [\\ 15d7x2r2c7ep7alaikh8la::]

WARNING: ALL INFORMATION IS CLASSIFIED. USE OF REPORTING ANY INFORMATION FROM THIS DRIVE WILL RESULT IN TERMINATION.

Attempting Connection: ERROR: NO NETWORK

Subject: B-312

Content: audio/visual records [MJOLNIR MK. V]

CLASSIFICATION: [-NOVEMBER BLACK-]

COMPILATION HALTED. DATA CORRUPT.

Unauthorized Access attempt has been detected. ERROR: NO NETWORK: INITIALIZING...

Execute: .PRTCL.1A

INITIALIZING...

PURGING DATA

Miranda immediately froze the program and halted it's operations. She couldn't risk losing any information. She was intrigued by what she had read, however. Direct mention of UNSC and some Office of Naval Intelligence. But what she was most interested in was whatever "audio/visual" could be. The rest had been gibberish of a barely functional system.

"EDI, comb this data. Catalogue everything. And see if there's a way to find any audio or visual data. Translate it into your coding if you can."

"One moment, Ms. Lawson. I must warn you that this program has attempted to infiltrate my systems. I have sectioned it off. It attempted to access Normandy's communications. It very nearly succeeded."

Miranda narrowed her eyes. Half of an operating system had just attempted to counter her breach. As far as she could tell, the coding hadn't even been fully functional. All of this for audio and visual files? This Office of Naval Intelligence, whoever they were, did not do half-measures.

Something else bothered her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. She scanned and rescanned the frozen program. She leaned in closer, surprised she hadn't seen it before.

"EDI, find this grouping of alphanumeric symbols; 15d7x2r2c7ep7alaikh8la. In any order you find them. Run extrapolations."

"Scanning, Ms. Lawson."

She had seen that grouping twice in the readout, just swapped around. It was like an anagram of some sort.

"Finished, Ms. Lawson. Extrapolated information revealed key in coding cipher. Displaying corrected system operations. This program is advanced, Ms. Lawson. It was not designed to run on its own."

"Explain," the operative said.

"It is not simply data. It is it's own program, almost an entire operating system on its own. But this is only a partial system. It appears to be designed to run simultaneously with another system in order to decode data. It has blocked all attempts to run without it. I am currently attempting to pose as it's missing adjacent system. I am cycling 1.4 million combinations per second."

"Sounds promising. Do you know when you may unlock it?"

"Unknown. But using the alphanumeric key you provided, I attempted every iteration and sequence and did manage partial access to partial files. I will display them on your terminal."

A series of files appeared in front of the operative. She was almost salivating at what they may contain. She also couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk she began to wear. She was confident in her abilities to outmaneuver whatever this intelligence agency could throw at her. Besides, VI's the caliber of EDI were few and far between. Whoever this UNSC and Office of Naval Intelligence really were, they'd be no match for Cerberus' best and an advanced VI... The attempt at hacking their communications was disturbing but of no consequence. Not now, at any rate.

She pressed one of the files. The title was a series of jumbled numbers. Perhaps she would have to decipher those as well.

The halted program restarted and displayed modified text:

UNSC - OFFICE OF NAVAL INTELLIGENCE

SERVER: ERROR: UNABLE TO CONNECT ::HIGHCOM/ REACH / CASTLE::

ACCESS: LEXIC DARK 52278 ALPHA 771

BYPASS::: missing data

HALTING TRANSFER

BYPASS::: missing execution

Subject: B-312

Content: audio/visual records [MJOLNIR MK. V]

File: B312-4555900041

A new window appeared over the program. It played like a video but was badly corrupted. It split in places, froze in others, and the voices didn't seem to sync properly. But she managed to view file now.

It opened up in a dark room. It looked like a bunker of some sort. The first thing Miranda saw was a dead body on the floor. It was human and blood pooled around it's torso. An armored foot cut into the shot and the camera jerked up but landed on two men in a corner. One was armored like their new recruit in the med bay but in blue rather than gray, the other was also armored but appeared normal sized.

In the top left hand corner of the screen overlayed on the video she saw more text.

PROPERTY OF THE UNSC

FOR EYES ONLY

UNSC, ARMY, SPECWARCOM, NOBLE TEAM

SUBJECT: B-312 [T-ID/ "Noble Six"]

LOCATION: EPSILON ERIDANI II [A-ID/ Reach]

"Where's the rest of your unit," a man in blue armor asked.

"We got split..." The normal human replied haltingly. "I don't think they... It sounded bad on the comms."

Miranda's mouth fell open. Humans. But that meant...

A hand extended from the camera and Miranda realized this wasn't just a video file. This was helmet cam footage. The hand was a dead ringer for Six in his armor. Miranda sat up with renewed interest as it played on. The hand checked the body of the dead man on the floor.

"Alright, Corporal. Stay put. We'll get you a combat surgeon." It was blue armor speaking.

"Damn," a distinctly feminine voice said. The camera came up to see an equally feminine form clad in teal armor. "Plasma damage," teal spoke. Six's hand had fished some kind of key, tool, or disc from the floor.

"Found something," he said. Six held whatever he was holding up.

"I'll take that, Six," teal said in her odd accent. "Not your domain."

"I got a live one over here," a voice off camera said. This voice was deep, also with an accent. Almost Hungarian.

The camera moved and Miranda laid eyes on the biggest man she had ever seen in her life. His armor was heavier looking. By a large margin. It was yellow and red. His size was made even more evident by the woman he was holding. She beat her fists into his armor and yelled in a language Miranda was unfamiliar with but she could sense the anger in her words. Was this big one human, too? Was Six?

"I'm not gonna hurt you," the big one said as blue and teal walked in front of six.

"Jorge," blue armor said.

"Pause video," Miranda said. "EDI, see if you find any mention of a "George" in that code. Resume video."

"I've got her," Jorge said. "Keep still, and I'll release you."

The woman fell still and Jorge released her. She began to speak quietly. Miranda leaned in to hear her. Miranda noted the gentleness of the Jorge. He seemed soft where the others seemed hardened. Clearly, whatever had happened, had done nothing to dull the gentle giant's nature. Miranda jumped ever so slightly when a red blur descended from the ceiling and with a snap-hiss activated a weapon the Cerberus operative had seen before. It was one of the monsters from the derelict. It leapt down to the ground to engage the armored humans.

"What's your status, over," an unknown voice asked over the radio.

"We've been engaged," roared Jorge.

The small room erupted into a cacophony of gun fire and yells. Six raised his weapon and opened fire before the larger alien rammed him with it's shoulder, laying Six out on the floor. It ran off screen as Six took aim.

"Bad guy coming out!" Another unknown voice yelled.

An arm appeared offscreen and grabbed Six. It was another crimson armored alien. It roared in his face and raised its energy blade weapon. Six caught it by the wrist, jerked it down closer to him, and let loose a fist in its face. It shook its head and opened all four jaws and roared again. A swift kick from blue armor launched the alien off of Six and blue opened fire with a pistol. The alien's strange shields flared under the assault and it ran further into the bunker. Blue armor kicked a rifle to Six who picked it up, cocked it, and put it back into his shoulder.

The alien now had grabbed a civilian and was using her as a shield. Her screams were chilling. Teal and blue drew weapons and aimed but held fire. The alien grumbled and disappeared into the door.

"That tango blew through. Permission to pursue."

"Negative, Four," blue armor said. "Stay on the entrance. Two, handle her. Five and six, clear the hole."

Jorge, walked forward with a massive gun toward the door and Six followed. Miranda guessed Five had to be Jorge. That meant at least that "six" wasn't heir new guest's real name. They both walked into the darkness without hesitation. The camera panned to see Jorge close the door behind them and they made their way into the darkness.

The video ended there.

"Ms. Lawson, I have uncovered further audio and visual files. They are on your terminal."

"Play it," she said.

"Which video, Ms. Lawson?"

"All of them and see if you can organize these files in chronological order."

"I will do my best, Ms. Lawson. However, the files are still largely scrambled and encrypted. Until I can bypass the adjacent system requirement of the data, I will only be able to give you partial files."

"Understood. Just do it."

EDI broke the silence. "Found no reference to 'George,' Ms. Lawson, but I did find images matching the earlier clip. Shall I play them?"

"Yes, please."

The view opened to an interior Miranda felt like she had seen before. It was purple, metallic. She even caught a glimpse of the same shielding she had seen on the derelict that kept the atmosphere of the ship intact.

She heard Jorge say over the radio "Savannah did a number on the door. There's no way back up to the Sabres. Noble Six, form up on me."

From Six's point of view, he moved quickly to the other side of the hangar and there stood the much larger soldier. He was standing before some sort of display.

"Distance is closing on this vessel's refueling track with the Covenant Supercarrier. Seventy-six seconds to endpoint," a female, synthetic voice suddenly spoke.

'Supercarrier?' Miranda thought.

Jorge, back still facing Six, seemed to be speaking to the panel before him as he was pressing buttons.

"Damn it... So, it's going to be like that," the giant said as he slapped the side of the machine.

He turned and caught Six's attention as he walked over. Six was huge but was dwarfed by Jorge.

"Well, I got good news and bad news. This bird took some fire and her thruster gimbal is toast. So the only way off this slag heap... is gravity."

Gravity? Miranda perked up. Perhaps a planet. Where were they in relation to known space?

"And the good news?" It still felt weird when she heard his voice. She was seeing his world in glimpses through his eyes. A world she felt she wasn't entirely supposed to see but she never could help herself. Besides, she needed to know more about him if he was going to be staying here.

"That was the good news," Jorge said.

The synthetic voice could be heard again. Miranda assumed it was some VI or alert system. "At current velocity, fifty-three seconds to endpoint."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah..." Jorge pulled off his helmet and Miranda saw him for the first time. She blanched even as she had already suspected his race, it was still jarring. She quickly correlated the same realization with Six. They were all human. She took Jorge in, a thousand questions in her mind now. She went from the "B+" blood type on his chest to the UNSC and eagle emblazoned not far off. Jorge had sharp features with short, dark brown hair that was starting to gray. His brow protruded slightly, the signs of aging on his features, and with the short beard he wore, all gave him an appealing, almost wild, masculine look. His eyes were brown but almost sparkled as they refracted light. She wondered momentarily if she might get to meet him, too.

She began to wonder what sort of organization this really was. It seemed human enough but the suits, the tech, the weapons, none of it fit with her knowledge of the systems. Was this some separatist organization? How had it slipped by Cerberus' radar?

The giant human dropped his helmet on the ground where it hit with a resonating thud. How did they move in that armor?

"Bad news is, timer's fried. I'm gonna have to fire it manually," Jorge said. He said it so casually, as if talking about the weather, that Miranda almost missed the connotation altogether.

But Six's helmet jerked up sharply. It was only a fraction of a second but Miranda caught it before Six replied.

"That's a one way trip," he said.

Her suspicion confirmed, she felt a strange sense of loss. As if no matter what else she uncovered, she would already know how this part ended.

"We all make it sooner or later," Jorge said quietly. "Better get going, Six, they're gonna need you down there."

Jorge reached up to his neck and pulled out two silver tabs. Dog tags, Miranda realized. He yanked them from his neck. So this was…

"Listen, Reach has been good to me," Jorge continued. His hand extended with dog tags in them, Six took it in his own. "Don't deny me this." Jorge pulled Six in close, grip tightening, then lifted the smaller man up with what appeared to be one hand and began carrying him. He stopped at what she had seen earlier was the edge of the ship. Jorge looked at Six, eyes hard, jaw set. Again, not even a glimmer of stress. Just grim determination.

"Tell 'em to make it count," he said and let go.

Six fell, eyes still on Jorge before he turned and reentered the alien craft that looked so much like the one she had been on only a short while ago. Miranda felt a small tug on her conscience. Eyes wide she watched the craft come into frame as the camera fell. But what was beyond it now commanded her full attention. Compared to the ship Jorge was on, the one behind it was absolutely impossible. Literally impossible.

"EDI, calculate approximate size of both vessels."

"Extrapolating approximate size of Six against Jorge with surrounding ship dimensions. Approximating distance. First ship approximately 1 kilometer long and 400 meters wide. Unknown distance to second craft. Based on camera focus, second craft is between 26 and 30 kilometers long, between 9.5 and 12 kilometers wide."

It couldn't be... It just wasn't possible. If this was what these other aliens were truly capable of, she shuddered to think about the implications. If it had weapons that matched it's imposing size, even a Reaper fleet may pale in comparison. That alone was worth considering.

She watched Jorge's ship disappear into the mass of the leviathan behind it. With a purple flash, the entire sky imploded and then exploded. A purple, shimmering energy struck Six as he was falling. The camera turned down and Miranda felt her mouth hanging open realizing that Six was falling from low orbit towards a planet. His armor must be more than met the eye to have survived that, she guessed. Or maybe he had an attachment of some kind. The thought was short lived as her mind was consumed once again with the size of the vessel that had just been destroyed. Even at EDI's smallest approximation, 26 kilometers, it was the largest craft she'd heard of even in stories. She could only imagine the level of destruction such a ship could cause.

"Slipspace rupture detected." Six's comms crackled to life as that same female synthetic voice came through. It was met with a myriad of additional transmissions.

"Slipspace rupture detected."

"Gamma Station Control, reading multiple pings below the Orbital Defense Grid," one voice said.

Miranda saw through Six's eyes as more ships that could only be the same aliens began appearing out of thin air as he turned back toward the sky, the heat of reentry just starting to curl around him. She was suddenly considering the very real possibility that what she was witnessing may very well be FTL, or Slip Space theory, without the aid of a Mass Relay. It had been written about in many papers and all races had tried to create such technology but always ran into the same issue of relativistic distortion of space and time. Cerberus had even tried it's hand, sinking entire fortunes into combining technologies. It had been assumed impossible but here she was potentially watching it happen right in front of her.

"Slipspace rupture detected," the voice repeated.

"Yeah, we're picking up anomalies too," another voice said.

"Are you reading this?" Another said.

Miranda was now watching a full scale invasion. The overwhelming size of the craft, the sheer amount of them... There was no way something like this was going on out there with no one else knowing about it. Especially with humans. It was just unthinkable. Which meant... What, exactly? She didn't know.

"Slipspace rupture detected."

The voice from before continued, clearly disturbed, almost panicked. "Multiple Covenant signatures! Does anyone have a visual?"

"Slipspace rupture detected."

"They're everywhere!" Another unknown voice in terror answered. But he was right. Miranda watched as even more Covenant ships appeared out of nowhere. They were endless. She shuddered at the idea of them discovering this area of space. As more and more poured into view, she told herself again that the idea of a secret, advanced humanity anywhere in known space fighting an enemy capable of this was impossible. Unless…

"Slipspace rupture detected."

Her thoughts died. She had a lifetime of cold calculations but watching what could only spell the annihilation of this planet had stolen her apathy. No matter the story, these were humans, her people. A planet full of them.

"Oh, this can't be happening," another unknown voice said barely above a whisper.

And she had a sinking feeling that whatever battle had occurred had not ended well.

'Six, what happened. What happened to them,' she thought.

"Slipspace rupture detected."

"Must be the whole damn Covenant fleet," yet another voice yelled.

"Slipspace rupture detected."

The video ended there. Miranda just sat in her chair trying to process what she had just seen. This alien enemy... Limitless in number, it seemed, and technologically superior, seemed to have a grudge with humans. Or at least this version of them. But how!? How could this be happening anywhere at all?

Miranda was suddenly aware that she hadn't taken a breath. She closed her open mouth. She was sweating along her brow, heart beating rapidly. She inhaled deeply, and exhaled forcefully, attempting to calm herself. Could this be some hoax?

"EDI, keep playing them," she said after regaining her composure.

Miranda went through file after file. The more she saw, heard, and learned, the more she began to fear something else was going on. This was too elaborate to be fabricated. She had seen one of these aliens with her own eyes. Her bruised ribs reminded her of the encounter. Her biotics were potent, on par with the Asari, at least in her mind. Yet a single kick from just one of these monsters had broken her barrier, her armor, and very nearly her ribs. She had been taken clean off of her feet from the impact. To picture an entire invasion gave her shivers. The Illusive Man needed to know about this... But she struggled with the idea. Maybe everyone needed to know about this, not just Cerberus.

She also needed to talk with Six but she wasn't ready to tip her hand just yet. She needed more information before admitting she'd stolen from the man.

"EDI," she said carefully after a few moments. "What are the current theories about a multiverse?"

Shepard had stripped her armor and the kinetic bodysuit. She was alone in her private quarters. She wore nothing as she examined herself in the mirror. Her sheer athleticism was revealed through hardened muscles, softened only by the undeniable curves that complimented her form. She'd always wished she was less... Feminine. Her proportions had always been enviable but she swore that Cerberus had exaggerated a few things, not the least of which resembled an hourglass. Not to any ridiculous degree, but certainly enough that she was happy the armor managed to cover a lot of it besides her hips. Those had proven difficult to downplay no matter what she wore. She was not staring at her own aesthetics, however, as she checked the bruise that was forming on her back. It lined up well with the cracked portions of her armor. That alien Six had disposed of could sure kick. She'd pulled up her private terminal and checked the records the Doctor had put on the crew she had seen. Garrus had suffered some minor head trauma and bruising but his Turian physiology was stalwart. Zaeed had been fresh out from under the knife when she had made it to the med bay. She'd seen with her own eyes that he looked good, all things considered. His damage had been mostly cosmetic thanks to the cauterization of the energy weapon used on him. No permanent damage, he'd been lucky. He was immobilized and he'd have a fun new story to talk about.

She pulled up her Omnitool and applied MediGel to her singed and tender flesh on both her thigh and her shin. Her kinetic barrier had flashed but hadn't done much to stop the super-heated gas. The ablative plates and kinetic bodysuit had probably saved her leg. She'd been hit with Geth plasma before but this was something else. She'd seen the bodies before hitting the bridge. This kind of plasma may have burned clean through her if it hadn't been for her defenses but it still singed her flesh.

The gel bonded and stuck, fusing her injury. The pain Immediately reduced to first a stinging, cool throb until even that became just a feeling of cold relief. She breathed a huge sigh. If only her back and neck could be fixed so easily.

Shepard hit her private shower and hot water began spraying. She stepped in and just stood, letting the water cascade over her body. As her thoughts began to materialize, she began to wash the day off of her.

And then there was Six. As far as she could tell, he made zero sense. He was huge, even more so in that armor. She flashed back to his encounter with the monster on the bridge. That thing had torn through her like paper and no one on her team was exactly helpless. She may very well have the deadliest people in known space on this ship and it hadn't counted for much. She bit back the sting of guilt she felt at failing her team. That thing had been too fast, too strong, and the quarters were too tight. But Six had brought it down seemingly without effort and he'd been wounded. Badly. Shepard flashed back to the moment that helmet had come off…

Those eyes... That young face…

She shook herself. She needed answers and she'd get them. She wondered if there was a way to convince him to stay on for a while. He was competent and lethal enough even if his circumstances bothered her. But she figured whatever Alliance experiment he was, they would probably want him back. She steeled herself and began to scrub. She winced when she tended to her wounded leg. She grimaced when she had to twist her head or back to move. A brand new body and she had already put too many damn miles on it.

"Commander," a voice in her room spoke.

"Go ahead, EDI."

"Ms. Lawson has requested to speak with you."

"Twice in one day. Must be my Irish luck. Maybe I should buy a lottery ticket. Thoughts, EDI?" she asked from the shower.

"I wouldn't presume to tell you how to spend your free time, Commander."

Jane turned off the shower and rolled her eyes. Now free of sweat, blood, and grime, she toweled herself off. "It was a joke, EDI. Tell Miranda I'll see her later. I need sleep. Wake me only if there is an emergency. Or if Garrus or the Doc ask for me."

"Understood, Commander. Sleep well."

Jane hung her towel up and walked into her quarters. She made her way to the dresser and pulled out a pair of tights and a tank top, putting them on unceremoniously and flopping on to her bed. She had been going non-stop since she had woken up in that Cerberus base and her velocity had only increased since. She wondered if she was even fully herself anymore. How would she know? She felt every ache and pain from hours on hours of motion and adventure. She was exhausted but her eyes remained open. Her thoughts turned to Six again.

"I'm on my own," he had said. She knew that feeling.

He unnerved her in more ways than one. She didn't like unknowns and she certainly didn't trust this guy. But she pictured him on that ship, alone, surrounded by those things. He had shown up when the commotion started. He'd been left for dead or at the very least believed he might die there. Whatever had really happened, he'd put up one hell of a fight. And she'd even seen him in action herself, if only for a few seconds. She sighed and rolled over to her side, bringing her knees up.

"Who the hell are you," she said quietly.

She didn't know when she'd fallen asleep. She'd been dreaming but couldn't quite remember the details as she stirred. What had woken her?

"Commander."

"What, EDI," she said as she threw a pillow over her head.

"Doctor Chakwas would like to see you."

Shepard sat bolt upright. "Did she say what it was about?"

"She did not."

"Tell her I'm on my way."

"No need, Commander. She's on her way to see you now."

Shepard was waiting, arms crossed at the elevator. Good Lord, that thing took forever. When the doors finally opened, Doctor Chakwas was there with a thick file in her hand. She stepped out and greeted the Commander with the usual level of respect for an officer.

"You didn't need to dress up, Commander. It's only me," she said dryly.

Jane looked down at her tights and tank top. "I'll keep that in mind next time you let yourself in."

Chakwas smiled at the witty rejoinder.

"Shall we," she asked.

Jane stepped aside and gestured for her to come in. She strode past the Commander and looked around the room.

"Down the stairs and to the right," Jane said.

They both moved to the area in the corner. The doctor sat on the couch, Jane took the seat. Jane stared at her expectantly. Chakwas cooly looked Jane up and down slowly.

"No wonder Miranda seems to hate you," she said with just a hint of a smile.

Jane threw her a venomous glare and crossed her arms over her chest and crossed her legs, suddenly self-conscious.

"Well, Doctor? Did you come up here to ogle or did you have something for me."

Chakwas' self-satisfied smile faded and she stood and reached out, folder in hand extended. Jane also stood momentarily and grabbed it. She flipped it open, unable to discern heads from tails.

"Uh... Well. Hmmmm... This appears to be medical in nature," Jane said sarcastically.

"You're not wrong. I suppose I'll give you the highlights but that folder is the only copy on this ship. Per your request, I recorded nothing electronically but what I found was... Worth making notes about. I'm sure you can at least read in the file that we're discussing Six, as he calls himself."

"What did you find?"

"I'll start with the surgery. We closed several internal bleeds, removed shrapnel, some of which appeared to be pink and purple crystal shards. They were razor sharp and still burrowing when we removed them. He had partial atelectasis..." She paused, seeing Jane's blank expression.

"A partially collapsed lung, I mean," she said before continuing. "But not a single broken bone. Not even a stress fracture. But there's more in the file on that."

"I'm not surprised so far."

"Well you may be surprised to know that he initially refused to be put under so a good portion of the surgery he was awake for. He didn't make a sound. While I appreciate the rarity of a soldier who is actually as tough as many like to think themselves, I had Mordin distract him and I snuck anesthetic into his IV. After that, we closed him up and started digging deeper. We had to open him up a few more times, as it turned out."

"Good God..."

"Indeed. He had a torn Achilles tendon, a sprained ankle, two torn ACLs in both knees with a torn meniscus and ruptured patellar tendon on his left. Detached kneecap," she said noting Jane's eyes glaze over. "I'll try to use simple terminology. A gash across his right thigh that missed the femoral artery but did cut through a sizable portion of muscle tissue. Also a pulled groin, hernia, and abdominal blunt force trauma. High impact, possibly a repeated injury, which lead to some of the internal bleeding. Renal trauma to his left kidney, damage and swelling of his lower spine soft tissues. Damage along his right shoulder that suggests it was dislocated and then relocated... Poorly. Probably by himself. Also a severe burn that we found went from one side of his shoulder all the way through to the other between shoulder and socket. Same dislocation and poor resetting of four different fingers along varying joints, and a thumb. Also, a concussion. I'm sure you saw the ruptured blood vessel in his eye. The repeated trauma to his head may have caused it. He's lucky he didn't have any brain swelling. And he seems to have bit his tongue at some point, if that counts for anything. He was also in a high state of catabolism and sleep deprivation. I'd estimate he's roughly 25 to 30 pounds underweight and he doesn't have the fat on him to have lost it in any healthy capacity. His electrolytes, hydration level, vitamins and nutrients were also deficient. Blood sugar was low and ketones were in very high concentrations in his blood tests. Hormone panels were what I expect may be normal for him. Testosterone was at 1400 nanograms per deciliter, which is high. Growth hormone was 19 nanograms per milliliter, which is almost double the high end of normal. He was hypotensive at 92 systolic and 65 diastolic, but given the rest of my findings, it's not surprising. He's got an IV correcting all of the above, minus the hormones.

Jane just stared. "Fuck me," she said finally. "I didn't understand all of that but the gist of it is, I assume, it's surprising he's alive. Let alone functional."

"I've seen enhancements before across many levels. Even among civilians, engineering of one form or another is very common. More so for Alliance Military. And I thought I'd seen the pinnacle of it when I examined you after Cerberus revived you..." She trailed off. Jane couldn't tell why. Either the memory of losing her or perhaps whatever the Doctor was about to say next.

"Doctor?"

"He has cuts, bruising, and additional minor injuries. But after a few scans, it became apparent that there was much more to the young man. He's enhanced to a degree and with methodology I have never seen and, frankly, did not know existed. His genetic pattern is as close to flawless as I've ever seen but with no indicators of genetic alterations. I believe his changes were chemically induced. They changed him on the molecular level but left his genetic code intact. The lack of surgical scars points to this, at least, but he does have some that appear surgical in nature. These chemicals induced mechanical and biological changes."

Jane held up a hand. The folder on her lap now lay closed.

"Thank you, Doctor. But... I think I'd rather hear all of this from him. Just tell me if he's okay."

Chakwas stopped, knowing the Commander well enough to let it go but unable to.

"Commander, if what I found and what I suspect is any indication, he'll never tell you."

"I can be very persuasive, Doc."

Chakwas rolled her eyes. "Oh, I'm sure, Commander. Ask him while wearing that and I'm sure he'd tell you anything" she said gesturing again at Shepard's ensemble.

Now getting annoyed, Jane glared.

"Try to stay focused, Doctor. I don't often betray people's trust. Especially this crew. And that includes you," she added pointedly.

"As you wish. Physically, he's fine. His metabolic rate is unusually high. Enough to increase his base temperature by almost a half degree Celsius. He reacted to the MediGel quite readily. He began healing even before I came up. He'll be in fighting shape in no time."

"Thanks, Doctor."

"Indeed. Do with that information what you will.

"Thank you for the visit and your discretion."

"Of course, Commander," she said standing. "He should be awake within a couple of hours. Maybe give or take 30 minutes. I found it difficult to adjust for his BMI and metabolic rate."

The doctor turned and made to leave. She had moved up the stairs, pressed the elevator button but stopped. She turned and strode back into view, standing on the bottom step.

"Commander... There is information in that folder that may warrant a look. Particularly regarding his potential psyche. It's only conjecture at this point but his physiology would suggest something... Possibly very disturbing."

"I'll keep that in mind," Jane said, trying not to seem suddenly interested. "Was there anything else?"

"Yes, just one thing. When you leave this room, I'd suggest changing clothes unless you're trying a new method of motivating the crew."

Jane blanched but the doctor was already in the elevator.

"Goddammit!" Jane yelled.

Shepard eyed the folder on her lap. She couldn't deny she was curious. She was there on the receiving end of that monster alien and Six had mangled it with seeming ease and now she knew the extent of his wounds at the time. Shepard had her answers dropped into her lap. Answers this easy never happened and certainly not so literally. She thumbed the pages but didn't flip it open. She finally stood and tossed it on the table.

She'd get him to talk. Eventually.

But first, she needed to change.

Six's eyes snapped open and he sat upright, heart hammering in his chest. Now on full alert, he quickly took stock of his surroundings, recognizing the medical bay aboard the Normandy. He felt groggy but otherwise okay. Had he passed out during surgery? No, he knew the feeling of fading anesthetic. He hadn't known many medical personnel as devious as this Chakwas had proven to be.

He shook his head and squinted his eyes, their enhanced vision flooded with too much light. Zaeed was snoring behind the curtain to his left. After ensuring that he was otherwise alone, he did a quick self-assessment. Starting from his toes and ending in his face, he flexed and tested every muscle and joint. He wasn't at his best but he was miles better than he had been in the last day or so. He turned and placed his feet on the ground, removing the hospital gown he had been placed in that left him in some sort of undergarment. He began performing a physical examination. This was all reflex to him. Ready anywhere, under all circumstances. He noted that his armor was in precisely the same position he had removed it in. Moving to his examination, he traced the new scars and bandages. Again, not perfect but his body was serviceable. He was surprised at how quickly his wounds seemed to have closed.

He moved to the armor, doing a quick field diagnostic. Power was maybe 12%. The fusion generator was damaged but still well shielded. His shield generators didn't have enough juice now to operate, and he doubted if the force multipliers would help his strength or speed. The undersuit was compromised in several places, including full puncture in some areas and leakage of the gel layer. He doubted it would hold under hard vacuum much less prove effective in any tactical sense. The Titanium A composite plating was also in bad shape. The Mjolnir MK V was an amazing set of technology but after weeks of continuous use under the most extreme circumstances, it had reached its limit. He was accustomed to it by now but he was far from helpless without it. He could adjust. Many of his missions before Noble had been in a MK V but many had also been with SPI armor or even without it altogether.

He stood up and instead moved to stretching. He pushed but didn't overdo it, aware of his limitations, learning where his weaknesses were in his current state. Everything was sore but soon he could feel himself loosen. Within another 10 minutes he felt fit and mission ready.

With practiced eyes, he scanned the room. Two doors, a blocked off window. Only one of those doors guaranteed exit. Reciting what he knew, he counted exactly how many steps it took to reach the Pelican from here. He knew how many crew members were likely between here and there and which ones were armed. He saw several trays, sharp implements, and blunt instruments he could improvise with if he had to. There was always the knife still left on his armor. Second door, unknown. He was right next to it and gave it a try. Locked. AI could possibly reduce his chances of hard escape. Too many variables.

He sighed, giving his armor a closer inspection. It was cooked. No doubt about it. He was tempted to feel a sense of loss but quickly suppressed the idea. Instead he stood and spied something on the counter. It was a box. It was white with green accents and streaks and said Aldrin Labs in the top left and Bluewire Tool underneath that. Scribbled across the top was "For Six." No indication of who it was from but the script, handwritten, appeared perhaps feminine in origin. Best bet was Shepard. He opened it carefully, removing wrappers and sealant. There were various wires, an instruction booklet, a small, octagonal disk, and a bracelet with a heavy duty clasp that looked as if the octagonal chip could be placed in it. He did just that, and put the bracelet on, examining it. He caught a glint in a nearby waste bin and saw another omnitool in a plastic bag discarded there. There was a small tab hanging off of the disk and Six pulled. He heard a high frequency whine as whatever technology was enclosed spooled up. His arm was suddenly encased in an orange graphic of some kind. It was like a gauntlet with two orange circles at the end. It began displaying information. It read like it was acclimating, initializing. He picked up the instruction book and flipped through it quickly. It was a computer, hacking tool, extranet explorer, among a few other things. He quickly set up the instrument to his impulses and smiled when a blade appeared out of nowhere on it. He tested it, sharp as the knife on his armor.

Six looked approvingly at the bracelet through the orange light. Interacting with it further, he connected to the ship he was on and found an external series of networks. He scrolled and found endless information. News, politics, economics, science, current events, social mediums... The extranet, he assumed.

On his readout he saw communication options as well. His tool was beginning to connect with other tools. He went dark, setting his new tool to be invisible to other tools. Miranda Lawson appeared first and was already showing connected to his device. After that Commander Jane Shepard, Garrus Vakarian, Zaeed Massani (who appeared as 'unavailable'), Dr. Mordin Solus, Dr. Karin Chakwas, Jack (no last name), Jeff Moreau, Jacob Taylor, Kasumi Goto, Yeoman Kelly Chambers, and a laundry list of other various crew members he assumed. He switched off his communication function and instead settled on searching the extranet for all of the names listed above. It asked for an ID before moving forward. He tried "Six" but it was taken, same with "B312." After trying different combinations, it finally accepted "LTB312SIX." It then asked how he would like to be identified and this time, it accepted "Six."

He started by taking a cue from Zaeed. He pulled up Commander Jane Shepard. Military family, moved around as a child. Joined the Alliance Navy, took part in the Skyllian Blitz. She was the sole survivor of something called a thresher maw, an N7 special forces with an impressive history and knack for the impossible. He scrolled through every detail he could find until he had a clear picture of who he was dealing with. He was surprised that so much information was available on her but then she was also famous. And not all of it for good reason.

He sat back down on the medical bed and got to work. Basic intelligence at its most simplistic. Shepard led to Reapers, potential cover ups, the Citadel invasion, Citadel races, Turian's and Garrus, Salarians and Mordin, Shepard's very public death, Cerberus, Jeff "Joker" Moreau, Chakwas, Alliance Military, the list went on. He found almost nothing on Miranda. The more he read, the more a sinking feeling spread across his chest and he felt ice water in his veins. This was too elaborate, too broad. There was just no chance he was this far into some outer colony outside of UNSC controlled space.

"Keep an open mind," Halsey had said. How much of this could she have known about?

He froze when he came across entries for Earth. He read page after page of names he'd never heard, faces he'd never seen, government entities that didn't exist. Not one mention of the UEG, the UNSC, or the Covenant. Just more nonsense about element zero, mass relays, biotics, and Citadel controlled space. When he looked for Reach, there was no mention. Even the year, 2185, made no sense.

He spent the next hour memorizing everything he could about the Alliance. If nothing else, knowledge was one of those things that was better to have and not need, than need and not have. And he might need a cover. After that he moved to different races. Culture, history, physiology, technology, government structure, military capabilities, and psychology. He then moved to potential hostiles. Krogan, Rachni, Geth, and Reapers. The first three had endless information. But the Reapers, especially in connection with Shepard, seemed to elude him. He found scraps of information on forums, conspiracy theories, and the rumors of Collectors.

He didn't know when he had stopped. But he now stared at the wall trying to understand all he'd seen. He couldn't reconcile the two realities he seemed to be stuck between. He blinked hard and reopened his eyes, years and years of discipline kicking in. His position didn't matter. His worries didn't matter. His mission mattered. Get the information Halsey had given him to the UNSC. He'd been hardwired at this point to put himself aside and focus on the mission. It had worked since his first days on Onyx. It would work here. He suppressed his thoughts and feelings for the trillionth time and focused on trying to find the UNSC.

Only trouble with that; it didn't seem to exist. And he couldn't be sure this hadn't been Halsey's doing from the onset. His suppressed mind and emotions began to bleed through the cracks.

Taking action would solve that. Always had.

"It was EDI, was it?"

A familiar disembodied voice greeted him. "Correct, Six. EDI is an acronym for Enhanced Defense Intelligence. I am the Normandy's virtual intelligence.'

"Not artificial intelligence?"

"Also correct. I am not self-aware and unable to self-correct my base programming. AI's are outlawed by Citadel Law."

He raised his eyebrow but kept his thoughts to himself.

"What is my status," he asked. "Am I a prisoner?"

"No, Six. I was told to inform certain crew when you had awoken. However, you are free to move about the ship as you see fit."

Ignoring the comment about "certain crew" he tried another approach. "Where can I find clothes?"

"A uniform approximating your dimensions is in the far right cupboard above the counter."

"Where can I find a razor?"

"You'll find hygiene gear next to the clothing."

"Showers."

"I'll mark them on your Omnitool."

He rose and found the garments, quickly putting them on. They were a bit snug but otherwise would work fine. White, gray, and black color scheme, rolled sleeves, cargo pants, and boots worked fine for him.

"Now that you are dressed, Commander Shepard has requested your presence."

"Understood. Tell her I need a shower first. I'll meet with her within the hour."

"Shepard has agreed. She will meet you in the briefing room in one hour."

"How do I get there? And the showers."

"You are currently on the third deck. I'll mark both on your omnitool."

He walked over to his armor and pulled the combat knife off of it. He checked the blade. Still razor sharp and covered in Elite blood. He sheathed it, then attached it to his back through the belt. He checked the other pouches on the MK V. His ammo and weapons had been taken. Likely there was an armory on-board. Unforeseen but not unexpected. When he checked the pouch he had placed the chip in, it was still there. He quickly jammed it into a cargo pocket. He moved to another pouch and after half a minute of checking rechecking every pouch, realized the data chip from his helmet on Reach was missing. He hoped it was in the armory somehow. He remembered the woman bumping into him on the way out of the medbay. Miranda, he thought. He'd have to rectify that. ONI's information was something he'd been sent on entire missions to protect... and kill for. It was no different here no matter where "here" was.

He moved silently past Zaeed's sleeping form, and exited the med bay. The long elevator ride gave him all the time he'd need. Every crew member he saw openly stared. Other Spartans seemed used to it but he never had been. His assignments until Noble had been strictly solo and he found himself uncomfortable with attention. He felt twitchy. He did his best to ignore the stares but it was beginning to get under his skin. He was meant for enemy lines, not the rear.

He had his back story pieced together by the time he found the shower. If there was one thing he could count on, it was the military being the same no matter where he was. At least... He hoped so. He had crafted a believable enough story to explain his circumstances. Shepard may be a competent soldier, but she wouldn't be able to read through his lies. He hoped so, at least.

He scrubbed every painful inch of himself, watching the grime and mixed blood wash off. He had opened the bag and found something called "omniwash" that seemed to serve all functions of hygiene. He used it to scrub gunk, wash his hair, and prep his head and face for a close shave. When he had finished, he exited the shower and begun drying off.

He looked himself over in the mirror. He remembered the story behind every scar, burn, bruise, and blemish but he had no personal feelings over his aesthetic. Like his self-diagnostic in the med bay, he was performing a perfunctory examination of his well-being. He had lost weight and not in a healthy way. His hardened physique was less built than it had been when he started on Reach but he was still fast, still sharp, and his reflexes seemed fine. It wouldn't take long for the rest of him to fill in. He felt the noise building in his head when he thought about Reach, Noble Team, everyone else that fell. He pushed them aside as quickly as they cropped up, even as he tasted the ash from the planet's dead surface. That had been less than 24 hours ago.

'Focus,' he thought.

He examined the damage on himself. He'd removed the bandages and was surprised that his wounds had mostly closed, even compared to when he was in the med bay. No stitches or biofoam. Must be some interesting tech. He was lean and densely built, though less so than before. All sinew, definition, and vascularity. He'd need to exercise and eat again. A good soldier lacked no part of fitness. They should be exactly equal parts strength, speed, flexibility, and endurance. He saw a patch of hair on his face he'd missed. In a blink, he was back on the Covenant ship, Jorge holding him over the edge. He knew he was aboard the Normandy but it was like his own mind and body were living it all over again. Adrenaline flooded into his system and his heart rate more than doubled to roughly 70 bpm. He was sweating and shaking.

"So it's like that is it?"

"Reach has been good to me."

"Don't deny me this."

"Tell 'em to make it count."

Memories he suddenly couldn't force back flooded him from the last few weeks. They replayed at blinding speed and he could feel his nervous system respond as if it was happening to him in real time.

'What is this,' he thought as he tried to get a grip.

As suddenly as it had started, it was over. The thoughts suddenly became suppressible once again and he was alone in the bathroom. He looked unsteadily at himself in the mirror, unsure what to make of the experience. His hands shook until he brought them back under his control. He brought the razor up and shaved off the patch of hair he had missed. He could still feel the physical effects of whatever had just happened. It disturbed him that it had happened at all. Checking to make sure the door was locked, he numbly put the clothes on then sat on the floor.

If he had an hour before having to meet Shepard, he was going to take the whole hour. He had never experienced anything like that before. He wasn't rattled or frayed anymore, so far as he could tell. It had come and gone. He was back, more or less. He just needed to stay busy, keep moving forward. But for now, he was happy sitting against the bulkhead, ensuring whatever had overtaken him was finished. He'd need to be okay to get home.

That was his only goal now; do whatever he needed to do to get home. They needed every soldier they could get.

He'd have to be more disciplined in future.