Hello again everyone, and welcome back to my Gears of War/Mass Effect crossover.
I've noticed that a few of you have questions concerning some of the lore in this crossover. As such, I've decided that I will be putting, at the bottom of each chapter, answers and responses to each of your reviews. If you've asked a question, you'll find the answer to that question down below.
Still, I am very pleased to see that all of you are enjoying this crossover so far. Don't forget to leave a review, as that is my primary means of feedback. Reviews that have ideas, and constructive criticism, are more than welcome.
As always, leave a review and enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own the Gears of War or Mass Effect franchises. They are the respective properties and trademarks of BioWare, Electronic Arts, Microsoft Studios, The Coalition, Epic Games, etc. Any material original to the franchises belongs to their respective developers and publishers. Any material not original to the franchises is of my own invention. I do not own any music listed in each chapter. Any music listed belongs to it's original composers and/or artists.
Deep Space
Unknown Warship
January 16th, 2183
Onboard his personal warship, Saren winced as pain rocketed up his leg's nerves and straight to his spinal column. It had been thirteen hours since he'd been brought aboard his ship, after which he'd been taken to a medical ward the Geth had set up inside the ship. The next two hours were spent removing any shrapnel from the armor that had been penetrated, along with setting and repairing the fractured bone, while sanitizing the wound. The surgery was also needed to repair the damage to the affected muscles, which had nearly been severed by the bullet.
Now, he was sitting inside of his personal quarters, wincing as his leg sent twinges of pain to his brain. His right leg was encased in the medical exoskeleton that the Geth Medic had placed around the injured leg, though some adjustments had been made. He was able to walk around as usual, but until the wound was fully healed, he was required to wear the medical exoskeleton at all times.
What confuses me is how that human's primitive weapon damaged my leg so effectively, he thought to himself. That bullet should not have pierced through my armor as though it didn't exist. There was also something weird about that human, some kind of aura about him. I don't know how, but when I was fighting him, I actually felt frightened of him, terrified that I was going to lose.
His internal musings were interrupted when he heard footsteps behind him, then a throat cleared. Moments later, a deep, but feminine voice, began to speak to him. It was also solemn and imperious, as though it belonged to a queen or goddess of old. "We identified the Alliance ship as the Normandy. It was under the command of Captain David Anderson. They managed to save the entire colony."
"And the beacon?" Saren asked, wincing as more pain lanced up his leg and into his brain.
"One of the Humans may have used it."
The moment Saren heard that, he bolted up right in his seat. Shock suffused his body, then it was replaced by an intense, white-hot rage. His thoughts dissolved into a primal state of rage and animalistic instinct as he let out a single, bellowing roar, the pain from his injured leg having been forgotten. Biotics flaring, he hurled loose items that were near him into the air, sending them flying like missiles. Turning towards the figure, an Asari, he grabbed her by the head.
The moment he did, though, his anger abated. I can't afford to hurt her now, a logical part of his mind whispered to him. If I do now, I lose a valuable supporter, one that has succeeded numerous times. Reigning in his rage, he let out a long sigh before he said, "This Human must be eliminated. Capture the unknowns, though."
"Why," the Asari asked.
"Because they are… unusual," Saren explained. "I cannot explain it, but I just know that they are not your ordinary Humans. Send assassins to the Citadel. Hunt down and kill anyone that can further implicate me in what happened. As always, you have my full confidence."
"I shall do so at once," the Asari replied.
As she left, Saren sat down in his seat once more. Now that his rage was gone, he could think more clearly than before, and the pain had vanished. Rage is an excellent anesthetic, he smiled. Now, I must determine how to deal with this… unplanned variable.
. . .
Is this a dream, some part of Marcus wondered as he and the other members of Delta Squad sat at the table in the Normandy's mess hall. If it is, then it's the craziest dream I've ever had. If not, well… at least we ended up somewhere interesting.
Looking around, he found that he could gauge the others reactions based on their body language. Cole seemed moderately interested, but kept on pushing on the bench he was at, a habit he'd picked up when an exercising bend had broken on him during use. It wasn't an unjustifiable concern; much of the cover they had used during the fight at the colony had given Marcus a considerable amount of thought towards how the others used cover.
Baird, however, was practically in seventh heaven, as the Gear was eagerly attempting to fiddle with the holographic screens that were above their seats. He was also the only one talking, as he looked at Marcus and said, "This… this shit's amazing! If we had this kind of shit back home at Sera, those grubs wouldn't have stood a chance! I can say their weapons and armor tech is shit against ours, but everything else is fucking amazing! I -"
"Give it a rest," Marcus ordered him. "It's interesting, yes, but I'm more worried about what's going to happen to us."
"Marcus' right," Cole nodded. "I don't know about you, but I'm more curious as to what this 'Captain Anderson's' thinking about right now. I sure as hell would like to know what'll be happening." Noticing that Carmine was silent, he asked, "Yo, Carmine. You OK?"
"I'm fine," Carmine replied. "Someone's gotta be silent, what with Baird yappin' all the time."
"Hey!" Baird protested. "I wasn't talking all the time! Only when we were 'graciously invited' aboard." Still, he got the point, as he sat down and went silent, though he kept on staring at some of the tech that was on display for all to see.
There was also a more immediate concern that Marcus had, one that his stomach was reminding of, what with it's growling and all. Right on cue, though, a crewman came along with four bags of plastic in his arms and placed them on the table. "There you go," he said to them. "Bon appetit."
Picking one of the bags up, Marcus quietly read the instructions, before reaching down and opening his canteen. Tearing the bag open near the top, he poured in a little water, before holding it by the edge and waiting. Around fifteen minutes later, he looked inside and, using the small fork and spoon provided, began to eat the food that the water activated cooker had finished cooking.
Not too bad, he thought as he chewed on the food, which appeared to be chicken mixed with something else. I've had better, but this is much better than some of the food that I've had before. Compared to some of the meals that I've had, this is like a slice of home. Eating the food quickly, he got up and disposed of the bag in what looked like a trash bin before sitting back down at the table.
"This is good," Baird beamed as he finished his meal. "I've had some shitty meals back then, but this is good compared to those."
"I ate at a restaurant that served food like this," Cole shrugged. "It was just OK." What he didn't add was that he would've preferred home baked food, similar to what his mother had once made.
Carmine, who'd managed to eat his food, while still wearing his helmet, shrugged and said, "Not bad. I've had worse than that."
As he said this, the crewman in question came back. "I hope you liked the meals," he said slightly nervously. "The rest of the crew doesn't like them, though. They say it's not good enough."
"Really?" Baird asked, surprised. "Then they ought to get their heads outta their asses and actually reconsider. That food was good."
"Really?"
"Yes, really. I've had meals were the only thing available on the plate was boiled wood rat. If the food we just ate ain't good, then I don't know what is."
The crewman looked genuinely surprised by the comment, though after a moment, he said, "Alright. If you think it's good, then I won't disagree with you. I don't mind them much anyways at all." With that, he walked away.
Once the crewman was away, Marcus said, "I've never seen shit like those Husks before. It's like the Lambent all over again, only they didn't glow a bright yellow color."
"I know what you mean," Baird shivered, unpleasant memories of the Lambent Pandemic coming up in his mind. "I looked at the bodies while we were waiting for extraction. What happened to them was technological, not biological like the Lambent. Still, fucking sick shit."
"Yeah," Cole frowned. "I never do any zombies. Still, ain't nothin' a Boomshot won't fix."
"My Torque Bow did the job just fine," Carmine added. "Blew a Husk in half like it was nothin'. Still, if I ever run into whatever made those people Husks, I'll break their neck."
"Same here," Baird nodded. "Still, when's the head honcho going to show up?"
Right on cue, the door to the Normandy's medical bay opened, with a single man walking out. Looking at the man, Marcus found that he was an older man, though his hair was still a dark brown color, much like the skin on his face. His green eyes, however, held the wisdom and sorrow that came from long life and long military experience. He exuded an aura of compassion, courage and duty, and Marcus guessed that the man was likely Captain Anderson. If so, he was likely the kind of CO that any soldier dreamed of serving under.
That guess was promptly confirmed when the man said, "Gentlemen, welcome aboard the Normandy. I'm Captain Anderson, CO of the ship. You four have certainly caused quite a stir."
"Didn't mean to cause one," Marcus replied.
Anderson held up a hand. "I know, Marcus. You look like the kind of man that wants to leave well enough alone if necessary." Pacing around, he said, "Still, your presence presents a dilemma for me to solve. For starters, I don't know if you and your friends are charlatans posing as soldiers from a long lost colony, or if you're actually the real McCoy.
"However, my gut instinct says that the four of you are really who you say you are. Charlatans playing at being actual soldiers wouldn't know how to use the weaponry and armor that the four of you use with such precision. Right now, once Chakwas is finished with Ashely, she'll check over the two of you. Understood?"
"I do," Marcus nodded. Just as he said this, the door opened, allowing an elderly looking woman to step into the mess hall. She was much older than Anderson, and her hair was a gray-silver color. The eyes, however, held a motherly look that would make even the most hardened solder feel safe. "I'm ready for Marcus and his team, Anderson," she reported.
As soon as Marcus heard her voice, his mind immediately flashed back to when he first encountered Myrrah at Nexus. Fuck, he thought, his eyes looking at her suspiciously. She sounds exactly like her! As soon as the thought passed through his head, he immediately reached for his Boltok, while Cole, Baird and Carmine reached for their sidearms as well.
Anderson, who had seen the combat footage that JACK had recorded, held up his hands in a placating gesture. "It's alright," he replied. "I've seen the footage. Dr. Chakwas is nothing like the woman that she sounds like. She's the kindest medical officer that I have ever had the honor of serving with."
"And Anderson's the kindest CO I've had the pleasure of serving with," Chakwas added. "However, I am quite disturbed by the actions of that one person, Queen Myrrah. She and I could not be further apart in terms of personality. I will do what I can to treat the injured, regardless of their origins, and that goes for you as well; in fact, I was just coming to let you know that I am ready to examine the four of you for any diseases and injuries we need to treat."
For a moment, Marcus was hesitant to relax, with the side of him most accustomed to fighting screaming at him to pull the Boltok out and to put a round in the woman's head. However, Anderson's reasoning, combined with the more logical part of his mind, silenced that side of him in short order. As such, Marcus pulled his hand away from the revolver, while the others similarly struggled, and eventually, did the same. "Alright," he decided. "If you try anything though…"
"I won't," Chakwas replied as the four Gears got up and walked over. "I will do what my duties require of me. Nothing more, nothing less." With that, they walked into the medical bay of the Normandy.
The medical bay was a ship doctor's wet dream, with medical devices normally seen in a major hospital present for all to see. From electron microscopes, to portable MRI machines, the room was filled with the devices needed for a doctor to make an accurate diagnosis, and to treat the injured with whatever methods were necessary. Spotting Shepard, who was still unconscious, Marcus asked, "Is he alright?"
"Physically, he's fine," Chakwas admitted, "but I've never seen brain activity like that before. The fluttering of his eyes also means that he's having an intense dream of sorts. Still, if he's in danger of dying, the machines will automatically inform me." Walking over to a cot, she said, "Please, sit down. Just remove your armor and place it down on the ground."
Marcus frowned at that. The armor he wore felt as though it was an extension of his body; without it, he felt naked and vulnerable. Still, he knew that not cooperating with the doctor might be just as bad. As such, he removed his armor, though slowly so that he could rapidly put it on in case something happened. Once his upper body armor was off, he sat down, with the doctor scanning him and the others in rapid fasion.
Chakwas had worked on patients of varying personalities and careers, though she could safely say that Marcus and his team were unique. For one thing, their muscle density was nearly twice as high as that of the average human being, and naturally so. She figured that it was partly genetics, and partly due to the armor that the four wore. It appeared quite heavy and durable.
The other was due to the remnants of what appeared to be something inside of their bodies. Her omni-tool couldn't make an exact sense of what it was, though it appeared to be the remains of a fungal organism that had been inside of their bodies. Thankfully the scans indicated that it had been destroyed by some kind of deterrent; whether it was radio-logical or not in origin, she couldn't tell. The other major difference she saw was the utter lack of the modern immunizations and genetic treatments that all citizens underwent, including the ones that Alliance soldiers took during boot camp.
After fifteen minutes, she was all done, though she gave them both the modern immunizations that they needed. "Captain, I think their story might be more credible than we gave them credit for," she said to Anderson, who came in as the Gears were getting their equipment back on.
"How so?" Anderson asked. He'd already seen the combat footage from JACK, but he wanted to make absolutely certain that he wasn't being fooled by a group of charlatans.
"Well, for one, I found a complete and utter lack of the modern immunizations and genetic treatments that normal Alliance citizens have. Even the ones our soldiers tend to use were absent. I also found traces of a fungal organism inside of their bodies, though I have no idea as to what -"
"Imulsion," came Marcus' voice.
"Come again?" Anderson asked.
"Imulsion," Baird explained. "Back where we came from, on Sera, Imulsion was this liquid that glowed a lambent yellow color. We thought it was a miracle fuel, but it was actually a parasitic fungus that infected everything on Sera. We destroyed it just before it could enter a critical part of it's life cycle."
"How?"
"The Imulsion Countermeasure," Marcus added. "I don't know how it works. All that I know is that it used some kind of radiation to destroy Imulsion. Your computer is picking up the remnants of Imusion that was inside of our bodies."
"What happened if a person received too much of it?"
At that, Marcus looked directly at Anderson and Chakwas before saying, "You don't wanna know."
Anderson would've pressed for answers, but the tone of Marcus' voice, and the look in his eyes, told him that the Gear meant it. It must've been something so horrible that he would not mention it unless he had to, he thought. That thought, he realized, meant that whatever happened to someone infected with critical levels of Imulsion was a fate far worse than death itself. Noticing a message on his omni-tool, he stepped out. "I'll be back," he told Chakwas.
Thankfully, a break came in the tension of the room when Ashley, who was in the room with them, said, "Dr. Chakwas! Shepard's waking up!" True enough, Shepard, who was slowly moving around, brought himself into a sitting position on the cot.
"You had us quite worried, Commander," Chakwas said to him. "How are you feeling?"
Shepard frowned, did an internal assessment of himself. "Minor throbbing. Nothing serious. How long was I out?"
"About thirteen hours. We brought you aboard the Normandy for treatment."
"The Beacon exploded," Ashley explained to Shepard. "Some kind of security system. The blast knocked you cold. The Normandy was the only place we could bring you."
"Thanks. I appreciate it."
"Actually, we don't know what really happened," Chakwas frowned. "Physically, you're perfectly fine. I picked up some unusual brain activity, abnormal Beta waves to be precise. I also noticed rapid eye movement, signs of intense dreaming."
Shepard nodded at that. "I saw… I'm not sure what I saw. Death… destruction… nothing's really clear."
"Sounds like that Beacon really put his brain through the grinder," Baird remarked.
"Maybe," Chakwas agreed. "I'll have to log this into my report. It may -" She was interrupted when Anderson came back inside. "Your back. Shepard is awake."
"How's our XO holding up?" Anderson asked.
"All the readings look normal. I'd say he's going to be fine."
"Good," Anderson nodded. "Nihlus and I want to speak with Shepard. Marcus, I'd like to speak with you as well." With that, Ashley and Chakwas walked out, while Nihlus entered and closed the door behind himself. Looking at Shepard, he asked "How are you holding up?"
"Fine," Shepard replied. "Jenkins, though… I don't like soldiers dying under my command."
"What happened to Jenkins wasn't your fault, Shepard. None of us could've done a thing. I feel for him, though, which is why I ordered a full burial ceremony for him. He'll get the rightful burial that he deserves. Still, I must admit, he was too young to die.."
"I agree. Say, Williams isn't part of the crew."
"I knew you'd notice that. I've added her to the crew roster."
"Williams' a good soldier. She deserves it."
"I felt the same too. That's why I brought her along."
"Mind if you tell me what's going on?"
At that, Anderson sighed, his arms behind his back. "I won't lie to you, Shepard. Things aren't looking good, though they're better since Nihlus is alive. He's currently delivering a full report to the Citadel Council. From what I could gather, however, they're not happy that their top agent, Saren, attempted to kill another Spectre."
"I hope the Council sees that I didn't do anything wrong," Shepard firmly stated to Anderson.
"They don't. That much I know for certain. During my time up there, they applauded your effort to get the mission done. As for me, you're a damned good hero in my book, Shepard. It's that other Turian though. Saren.
"Saren's a Spectre, one of their best. A living legend; but if he's working for the Geth now, then that means he's gone rouge. A rouge Spectre's trouble, Shepard. That's why the Council is disgruntled at what happened.
"But I know Saren. His politics, his methods. This attack was an act of war! He hates Humans; thinks were a blight on the galaxy. He won't stop until the entire galaxy has been cleansed of every human being in existence."
"So, we're dealing with a racist, a madman and a genocidal nutcase all in one," Baird summarized. Frowning, he said, "Reminds me of that bitch we had to deal with, doesn't it?"
"It does," Marcus agreed. "What about us?"
"That's another thing to note," Anderson nodded. "Chakwas report is further evidence that you and your team are telling the truth. You can't lie to a doctor that knows her biology and medicine better than anyone else in the galaxy, and the combat footage you showed told me just how bad of a war you were fighting. In addition, my gut instinct tells me that you're telling the truth. It hasn't been wrong before, and I don't plan on distrusting it now. As far as I can tell, you're telling the truth, so I have no reason to distrust you. However, that won't work with the Council, or Citadel Security for that matter. If you want to prove that you came from another universe, as you say you did, you'll need hard evidence."
"Mind if this guy do?" Baird asked. A moment later, JACK shimmered into view.
"That will work," Anderson remarked. "Is that how you recorded that combat footage?
"Yep. This is JACK, he's a JACK unit," Baird explained. "The COG developed these as a support unit for our forces. They can be equipped with medical tools, are used for recon and can even perform EOD when given the right equipment. They're also programmed with a simple AI."
"That's an AI?" Nihus asked, eyes darting up towards JACK immediately.
"Yes," Baird nodded. "The COG developed the technology required for AI during the Pendulum Wars. They're very simplistic, but they are very useful." Noticing Nihlus' concerned expression, he asked, "What? Is something wrong?"
"Artificial Intelligence is effectively banned in the wider galaxy in all but law," Anderson explained. "Still, I think an exception can be made for JACK. I doubt the COG had any knowledge of the Council's laws concerning AI."
Nihlus, hearing that, calmed down and said, "Correct. My apologies, Baird. AI's are one of the threats that a Spectre is trained to deal with. Still, as Anderson said, an exception can be made for JACK. One question, though. Has he ever shown any rebellious tendencies?"
Baird wore a hurt expression. "No," he frowned. "That's a damn slander, Nihlus. JACK is as much a part of Delta Squad as Marcus, Cole and Carmine. He's always helped us out, and we reward his service to us by protecting him. JACK units are not made for combat; they usually hide when the bullets start to fly."
"Ah, I see," Nihlus nodded. "It helps you past any obstacles, and you eliminate any enemies that might damage it when it's working. I apologize for my ignorance." Clearing his throat, he said, "Still, we're drifting off topic. If I know my former mentor, he wouldn't have assaulted Eden Prime unless he had something to gain from it. Any ideas?"
"You were there, Shepard," Anderson recalled. "Any reason why he went after the Beacon at Eden Prime?"
Shepard's face became thoughtful, then he said, "Just before I lost consciousness, I had a vision of some kind."
"A vision?" Anderson asked. "What kind of vision?"
"I saw synthetics, Geth maybe, slaughtering people. Butchering them."
"We need to tell the Council of this when we can do so."
"What do we tell them? I had a bad dream?"
"I agree," Baird nodded. "If we tell them that, they'll look at us like we're fucking morons."
"Normally, yes," Anderson conceded. "But Shepard did come into contact with a Prothean Beacon. That might be enough to have them heed us in that regard. Still, they'll be hunting Saren down. Once we get to the Citadel, and the Embassies, we'll know more from them."
"Anything else, sir?" Shepard asked.
"Head to the cockpit when you can," Anderson ordered. "Joker's going to be bringing us in to the Citadel. You and your friends, Marcus, might want to go along as well. The Citadel can be a breathtaking sight for new visitors. Dismissed." With that, Anderson left, and it wasn't long before the Gears and Shepard left as well.
"Thanks for helping us out there," Shepard said to Marcus. "You could've done simply nothing, but the fact that you helped us out says a lot."
Marcus merely shrugged. He had his own motives for doing what he did, though he did admit that JACK's efforts to save Nihlus were something of an anomaly. That being said, he walked over to Baird. "So, JACK doing alright?"
"Yeah," Baird nodded. "I just made sure that all of his systems were fully functional. Still, if what you mentioned was true, that might mean that JACK is evolving."
"How?" Marcus asked. "I thought AI's like him didn't evolve."
"Or maybe, the evolution needs a little time to get going," Baird suggested. "Still, at his current level, he's probably going to be mistaken as nothing more than a really advanced version of whatever they call a computer. Still, I really dislike how Nihlus treated him as a threat. When I get the chance, I'm going to find out why, and if it's because of some bullshit, I'm going to start chewing the people that came up with the reason out."
As he walked away as Baird got to work, Marcus frowned. He wasn't concerned that Baird would find out about any false information being fed to him; what he was concerned about would be Baird's reaction to said false information. Baird was someone that really disliked being lied to. If someone did so, or gave him bad info, he was more than willing to call them out on what he called bullshit, and was more than willing to give them a tongue lashing about why they were wrong and why they were being a complete moron.
He's not being deliberately destructive in that regard, though, Marcus thought. He just doesn't like it when people are being stupid. I, for one, can fully get behind that. With that in mind, he proceeded up the ramp leading to the CIC and passed through the door.
He had to admit, the shape of the CIC, as well as the interior, was quite interesting to look at, though he couldn't care less for how it all worked. In addition, the crew were giving him a number of odd stares. Even some of the older and more seasoned veterans looked at him, though they were more respectful in that regard. Still, Marcus ignored them, and proceeded to the cockpit all the same.
The cockpit reminded him of some fancy computers he'd seen inside of his father's laboratory at the Fenix estate. To the left and right, he could see chairs that were next to various stations, while the ones ahead of him were likely for the pilot and co-pilot. Right now, Shepard was behind the pilot, who was talking with him. "About time you came up here, Shepard," the man smiled. "I was just bringing us in. Time to see those taxpayer dollars at work."
. . .
It wasn't long before they reached the Citadel. As the Normandy exited the Mass Relay, it began to fly through a thick nebula that was present in the area. It was so thick that Marcus, who was looking out of the bridge viewports, couldn't see a thing out there.
"Damn, it's thick out there," Baird frowned. "I wouldn't be too surprised if the Citadel was hidden in all this gas and dust. It's what I'd do to hide it."
"Shit, that means we're going to get a big reveal," Cole beamed.
For the next ten seconds, they couldn't see a thing, aside from the thick nebula. Then they saw it: the Citadel.
Marcus had to admit, the Citadel was impressive, given that it was now plainly visible. The entire station was shaped like a pentagon, only the arms connected to a circular structure in the center of the Citadel. Five arms extended outwards for the entire length of the station, with the outside being heavily armored, while the inside was alive with city lights. Inside and outside of the arms, he could see warships flying through space, including a massive one that looked like a target reticule dot in a Lancer's sights.
"Nice, isn't it," Joker remarked.
"That… is a big station," Carmine remarked. Behind his helmet, his eyes were wide upon seeing what he was looking at.
"That's the biggest fucking thing I've ever seen," Baird gasped. While the UIR boat he'd been on was big, it had absolutely nothing on the megastructure he was looking at.
"Damn," Cole whistled, an impressed look on his face. "Them Protheans built big, and to last. Hah! The Cole Train can appreciate that!"
"Yep. Biggest structure ever built in the galaxy, aside from the Mass Relays, of course."
"What's that large ship right there?" Marcus asked.
"The Ascension," Kaidan replied. "Flagship of the Citadel Fleet."
"Well, size isn't everything," Joker snorted.
"Why the touchy attitude?" Ashley asked.
"Well, you've gotta have firepower too," Joker defended.
"No problems with that," Baird remarked. "I'd bet the giant-ass gun on that thing can blast a crater onto Sera the size of an island."
"I agree!" Ashley added. "That gun would tear through any ship in the Alliance Fleet!"
"Good thing it's on our side then," Kaidan nodded.
As Joker brought the ship in for a landing, there was one thing that Marcus knew: things were getting interesting.
. . .
Interesting, now that he thought about it, was an understatement. The Citadel, especially the Presidium, was drop dead gorgeous . Looking around, Marcus could see the Presidium, which occupied the central ring he'd seen earlier. It was a beautiful place, with gorgeous gardens, elegant architecture, and a near-perfect simulation of a blue sky, complete with clouds and a sun. While the curvature of the place was a little disorienting, he found it to be quite enjoyable.
Looking around, he could see Baird and the others enjoying the view. "Man, this place is beautiful," Cole beamed. "Ever reckon they heard of Thrashball here?"
"Nope," Baird shook his head. "Still, it's probably where all the stingy assholes in the galaxy come to have their shits and giggles. Never cared much for those stupid assholes. Waste of air and space, more than anything."
Marcus frowned upon hearing that, though he understood Baird's sentiment. He too disliked politicians, mostly because they were sleazy scumbags that would sell their own family if it meant increasing their political standing. He simply did a slow shake of his head, the kind he would do if he knew he would have to deal with idiots before long.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" a voice said to him. Looking to his right, Marcus watched as Captain Anderson leaned on the railing next to him. "The Presidium. The destination for most of the politicians and leaders of the Citadel Races. There's a lot of history here."
Marcus frowned. The last time he heard someone say that, that person had been killed, though not by any action of his own. "A lot of lies too," he frowned.
To his surprise, Anderson agreed with his assessment. "True," Anderson nodded, "though it's not always like that. The Turians, on average, are better about it. Having the ideal of 'service to others before self' indoctrinated into them helps to keep them honest. That, and most hate the profession. The term 'bare faced' is used to describe someone that's either a politician, or untrustworthy."
"Really?"
"Yes, really."
"Hhmmm… We might have something in common then."
Any conversation that would've continued was interrupted when the Ambassador for the Systems Alliance walked inside. A tall man with graying hair, wrinkled dark brown skin and brown eyes, Donnel Udina looked more like a grandfather than a statesman. Once he got to talking, though, one could hear the experience in politics in his voice, along with the ever present irritation that came with the job.
In this case, though, that irritation had either disappeared, or had gone away completely, as Udina's voice was much calmer than it usually sounded. It also helped that it was one of his better days. "Captain Anderson," he greeted cordially. "I see you brought your entire crew, as well as the men that saved Nihlus' life."
"Just the members of the ground team," Anderson replied, "along with Marcus and his team. I assume the meeting went well?"
"The Council is greatly displeased by Saren's actions," Udina nodded. "They want answers as to why their top agent attempted to assassinate one of their newest agents. They are, however, grateful that their agent was rescued, even if the backstory that the men shared with us is quite… dubious at best. I don't know if they're telling the truth. We'll have to wait until C-SEC completes their investigation."
"You need not wait any longer," a flanging voice said a moment later. Turning towards the doorway, they watched as a Turian with white facial paint and green eyes walked inside. "Detective Chellick. I was the investigator assigned to their case."
"And?" Udina asked.
"Their story checks out."
The moment Chellick said that, the entire room went silent, so silent that one could've heard a pin drop. Udina, taking a moment, said, "Are you saying that what they're saying is true? That they are from another universe?"
"That's exactly what I am saying," Chellick affirmed. "It was difficult, creating a port that would allow their JACK unit, if that's what it's called, to share the information it had with us. Nihlus also informed us that it was a rudimentary AI, so we had teams on hand to ensure nothing happened. After checking through the information we found, however, we detected no signs of tampering or alteration. Their alibi is solid."
Hearing that, Shepard and the others looked at Marcus and his team with a newfound respect. "Damn, so you really did come from another universe," Ashley whistled. "And here I was, ready to call you guys out as charlatans. I guess I was wrong."
"That's good to hear," Cole beamed. "My momma taught me never to lie to anyone, even if it was more comfortable than the truth."
"Tell me about it," Anderson agreed, even as a couple more C-SEC Agents brought bags in. As the team reclaimed their gear and weaponry, he turned to Udina and asked, "What now?"
"The Council requested our assistance in the investigation," Udina answered. "Nihlus has agreed to investigate Saren's corporate and political connections where possible. Shepard, you take Marcus and his team and meet up with the C-SEC Investigator in charge of the investigation. His name is Garrus Vakarian."
"Where do we meet him," Shepard asked.
"He asked you to meet him at a clinic in Tayseri Ward, run by one Dr. Chloe Michelle." As they left, Udina pulled Shepard aside and said, "Remember, Shepard. You're under increased scrutiny by the Council. The Beacon was destroyed, but Nihlus survived, which is why they haven't decided to reject you for Spectre candidacy. If you can find proof that Saren truly was guilty, then it will greatly bolster your chances. If not -"
"I understand," Shepard interrupted, "and I won't fail. Saren's a threat to every Human colony out there. If this is the only way to stop him, then so be it." Udina was apparently satisfied, as he allowed Shepard to leave then. With that, the investigation truly began.
(Author's Notes and Q&A)
Guest: The reason why supersonic projectiles don't trigger kinetic barriers, in my personal opinion, is typically due to the armor plating most races in the Mass Effect Universe wear. Supersonic projectiles are expected to be stopped by the ceramic or metal armor plating, as well as the fabric armor that's worn too. In addition, kinetic barriers trigger when something traveling at relativistic velocities (velocities approaching the speed of light) zip towards a person. As such, they're set to trigger only at that velocity.
OmegaDelta: They'll be making their own ammo. The Gears of War Universe is separate from the Mass Effect Universe, in this case.
StelarToe6133: Yes. There will be elements of Gears 5 in this crossover. I won't spoil which ones, though. That would be giving away too much.