Memento Mori

April 9th, 2201, 1530 hours — Terra Nova, Asgard System — Systems Alliance Armed Forces Cemetery

Data Corruption… Automatic Reconstruction Failed…Data Corruption…Profile Reconstruction Required…

(Staff Lieutenant Lancelot Percival – Fifth Battalion, 104th Marines)

Six weeks after the Battle of Bahak

Ten years prior to the events on the Hippocrates

"—Let us never forget our brothers and sisters. Let us never forget their bravery… their courage… their willingness to stand up for those who could not do so for themselves. Let us never forget the ones who laid so costly a sacrifice upon the altar of freedom."

The sky was a dull, muted gray. A promise of rain and thunder lay over the air like a heavy blanket. The ominous rumble of approaching storm clouds in the background sounded like an uneven heartbeat, as if the planet itself was a wounded animal.

Percival gazed with dead, blue eyes up at the outdoor podium where Fleet Admiral Marcus Octavian continued to address the surviving members of the 104th, 78th, and 63rd Marine divisions. The new Staff Lieutenant bars weighed heavily on his dress uniform.

Octavian himself looked as if he had aged a decade. His short, dark hair had a few tinges of gray now, and his dark eyes looked colder than ever.

"For us the storm has passed… but the scars left behind and the memory of our departed comrades are a reminder that the price of freedom is one that must be paid time and time again. It is a reminder that one day, it will be our turn to pay it."

Kara stood beside Percival, her already-pale skin made all the more lifeless by their dark-blue dress uniforms. Behind her stood Sterling, Kane, and Ducky. The three of them looked as if they were half-dead as well, already buried alongside their fallen comrades.

"One day we will all see our comrades again. Hopefully, that day is long in the making. Until then, go forth and honor their memory with your actions."

The ceremony was massive. The surviving members of the marine expeditionary force sent to Bahak numbered nearly five thousand. Various servicemen from the Ninth Fleet were also in attendance, as well as numerous friends and family of the fallen. The expeditionary force had originally numbered close to ten thousand marines from across three divisions.

"The galactic community thanks you for your service and I am honored to have served with each and every one of you. Each of you are heroes," Octavian finished solemnly.

The seven marines who had until then been standing quietly on the platform for the duration of the speech each simultaneously raised their M92 Avengers to their shoulders. All of them were wearing the Navy-blue marine dress uniform. The weapons extended as they were powered on.

Octavian raised a hand, then dropped it. The marines each fired off a round, then two, and then finally a third. Each round felt like a phantom round aimed directly at Percival's heart. Each volley echoed across the sky, travelling upwards and away and growing fainter and fainter until it finally disappeared.

The sky growled again, except this time it was louder.

The ceremony was over. The attendees all began to disperse and seek out the specific graves of their loved ones.

Every member of the Systems Alliance armed forces since Earth had been declared uninhabitable more than a decade ago had been buried here. Though the Reaper war ended fifteen years ago, the galaxy hadn't seen any sort of real peace with conflict. There was no shortage of opportunities for those graves to be filled. The immediate years following the Reaper war were dark, lawless years. The Slaver wars of the past four years had seen total casualties in the hundreds of thousands. Percival's own father was buried here.

Percival felt a hand tug at his elbow. It was Kara.

"Staff, the boys and I are thinking about hitting up 79 and getting a few drinks. You down?" she asked.

Percival gazed into Kara's eyes. The concern was obvious, etched there in plain sight for all to see.

"Come on, staff. Let's pour one out for the captain and the rest of the company," added Sterling. Ducky nodded in agreement.

Percival looked up at the rapidly-darkening sky and quickly brushed the back of his knuckles across his eyes.

"Why don't you guys head there first. I want to go find James before I leave and see how he's doing before it gets too dark," he replied.

The surviving members of Percival's squad turned to one another and gave each other dark, worried looks.

Percival forced a big smile onto his face. Even now, he was still their commanding officer. They were still counting on him. "Look, I'll bring Gwen as well. I just need a few moments."

Eventually his marines acquiesced. "Sure boss," replied Kane. "Just don't keep us waiting alright? You're the only chance we have at drinking Johansson under the table."

Percival smiled half-heartedly at his squadmate's attempt at levity. Kara could likely go drink for drink with both Sterling and Kane and still come out on top. Ducky didn't drink, he simply enjoyed watching the two machine-gunners get destroyed by a woman weighing maybe half of what each of them weighed.

"Wouldn't miss it," Percival promised. "Now get going. Grab a good spot for us, that's an order."

They saluted him and started to walk away, headed for the cemetery's exit.

Percival let out a sigh. His gaze shifted towards the headstones beyond. There were rows upon rows upon rows of them. Too many for Percival to count.

His feet began to bring him towards them, to where he knew James would be. Percival could see a few other marines were already there, silently or openly grieving their fallen friends and comrades.

Percival felt a familiar figure pull up beside him. It was Gwen.

She didn't say a thing, but the way she looked at Percival told him everything he needed to know. Gwen simply slid her hand into his.

Percival brought her hand to his lips and kissed them, and together they made their way towards James. It was a long, cold walk. Together they passed rows and rows and rows of headstones.

Eventually they reached the location where the marines of the 104th were buried. Percival paused at the first name he recognized. The headstone read "Service Chief Arthur Henry Woodhouse, Fifth Battalion, 104th marines. Born January 4th, 2166, died February 22nd, 2201 at the Battle of Bahak."

Fresh flowers had been placed at the grave, likely from the fallen marine's wife and his two young daughters. At the sight of them, Gwen let out a quiet sob.

Percival continued his walk down the row. The next one he recognized had a small, toy pick-up truck placed on the headstone. It read "Private Second Class Charles Montgomery Cormack, Fifth Battalion, 104th marines. Born August 21st, 2189, died February 22nd, 2201 at the Battle of Bahak."

Percival remembered his desperate charge in an attempt to reach Cormack at the refinery. He remembered reaching him in time, then overwhelming the batarian defenses. He really thought he had managed to save him.

Percival swallowed and kept on moving. His heart felt like it was caught beneath the coils of a giant serpent, and that it was currently squeezing and squeezing and squeezing. Up above, the sky rumbled again.

Further down a man knelt on the ground with his arms draped over a headstone, sobbing loudly. Percival and Gwen slowly made their way over towards him.

The man looked up when he heard them approach. Percival recognized him from a few pictures. It was Liam, Jasmine's fiancé.

Percival knelt down and placed a hand gently on his shoulder. "I'm sorry for your loss. She was a brave marine. I'm told she died saving her friend."

Kara had told Percival what had happened. It had been one of the Ghar'aran brothers who had killed her. Jasmine was supposed to have been married after the war. Percival's mind drifted back to the last conversation they had all shared together.

Liam weakly shrugged his hand off. "Just leave me the fuck alone," he croaked.

Percival gave him a small, respectful nod and stood back up. "If there is anything you need, don't hesitate. She was a dear friend to all of us."

"Fuck off."

Percival moved on for there was nothing more he could do for the grieving man. Up ahead, three men and an older woman dressed in black stood around another tombstone. The youngest had a marine dress uniform on. One look at their faces and Percival instantly knew who they were. Gwen gave his hand a squeeze.

One of the men, the oldest, turned at Percival's approach. He was the spitting image of the former captain of X-Ray company, Michael Garen.

"Lieutenant, it's good to see you alive and well," the man said. He held out a hand.

Percival took it and gave it a respectful shake. "Jim, right? Your dad told me all about you."

Jim Garen nodded. "And he's told me all about you. Never stopped talking about you when he was on leave, made me wish I'd signed up rather than going to med school," he smiled ruefully.

"Your father was more proud of you than you can ever know. All of you," Percival replied.

The youngest Garen in the dress uniform stood up while the middle one comforted the woman, who was clearly the widow of his former captain. The marine saluted Percival, which Percival returned.

"Heard you took over the company after dad and Staff Miller went down," he said. "Thanks for bringing his marines home."

Percival nodded. "Not a problem. I only wish I could have brought more of them back."

The captain's youngest let out a light but sad little laugh. "If only I had a credit every time I heard dad say that. I read the report, I know you did the best you could Lieutenant. Thank you for that."

The other marine wiped away a few tears from his eyes and knelt back down at his father's grave.

Percival walked up to the captain's wife who currently had her face buried in her son's coat, sobbing. Her son nodded at Percival and whispered something to his mother.

The woman lifted her head. Her eyes, red and puffy from crying, darted between Percival and Gwen.

"Ma'am…." Percival began. The emotion was overwhelming. A part of him wanted to run. His next words caught in his throat and Percival had to begin again.

"Ma'am. Your husband was a great man…" Percival said quietly.

Ms. Garen didn't reply. Instead, she simply stared quietly at the marine, tears and mascara rolling unabatedly down her cheeks.

"I lost my father a few years ago. He was a marine, just like your husband."

Percival gave a deep sigh.

"Ma'am, I know nothing I say could possibly stop the pain that I know you must be feeling right now. But I want you to know that your husband was the finest marine I ever had the pleasure of serving under. He gave his life to save the marines under his command and countless innocent people."

Innocent people that Percival had later let die. Percival's mind flashed back to the last conversation he ever had with his captain. His captain had warned him then that Percival would have to make a choice one day. Love, or duty. Percival just hadn't known that that choice would come so soon. Or at such a cost.

His last words came out hoarse and heavy. "He was like a father to me. He was like a father to us all," Percival finished.

The captain's widow wiped away her tears and nodded. "Thank you. For what it's worth, he considered you to be like a son to him. Thank you for finishing his mission."

Her words felt like a hot knife in Percival's heart. Granted, the slaves he had been sent to rescue had been beyond saving, but he had still abandoned the mission for Gwen. He had chosen love.

Percival wanted to throw himself at her feet and beg for her forgiveness. He wanted to tell her that he had failed to finish carrying out his captain's final mission, but all Percival could do was nod.

Percival and Gwen moved past the grieving family and continued their journey, passing more headstones. There were too many names that Percival recognized. Nearly half the company had died on that cursed planet, had lost their lives out on those cursed sands.

"Love, I think that's James right there," Gwen pointed.

The wind picked up and the sky grew even darker as the two of them made their way over to one final headstone.

"James Francis Fairchild…." Gwen read out quietly.

In that moment, the dam within him burst open. Percival dropped to his knees and began to sob openly.

The last time Percival had seen James, it had been in the final moments of the battle. They had just charged up the mouth of the valley. A sandstorm had raged around them, blotting out Bahak's twin suns. His best friend had urged at him to go, to find Gwen while he took command of the company.

If only Percival had kept his marines at the refinery like he was supposed to, James would be alive.

Gwen knelt down and gave Percival a hug. "Percival, I'm so sorry…. I know what he meant to you."

James had been Percival's best friend. The veteran marine had watched over him every step of the way, ever since he'd joined the company. He had put his faith in him, trusted him, and Percival had let him die.

Percival knelt there for a long while, crying. The sky let out one last groan. Eventually the storm moved overhead and it began to rain.

Even then, Percival didn't move a muscle. Gwen knelt faithfully beside him and together, the two stared at James' grave. Soon, they were soaked to the skin. Time seemed to stop as they knelt there, together.

Eventually, Percival could hear two sets of footsteps approaching him and Gwen. He turned his head and looked over at them.

Two people in black dress uniforms with a red and white braid running down the length of their right sleeve stopped a short distance away from the two of them.

Both of them carried umbrellas. One was a woman, tall, wiry, and in her mid-thirties while the other was a large, muscular man with dark skin and a shaved head, also in his mid-thirties. Both of them had staff lieutenant bars on their uniform.

The man came closer. He held an umbrella in his other hand which he proffered to Gwen. Gwen took it, and the man soon joined Percival in the rain.

"Lieutenant, I was hoping if I could speak to your friend in private for a bit," the man said in a smooth, deep baritone. He was a just a few inches taller than Percival himself — perhaps six-and-a-half feet tall – and a bit heavier. Though his voice was deep, his eyes were kind. Laugh lines creased the corner of his cheeks.

Percival stood back up, mud caking his knees, and turned to the newcomers.

Gwen looked over at him. Percival gave her a light nod. "Go, go back to the car. I'll be there soon," he said quietly. Gwen nodded.

As she turned to leave, Percival pulled her back in and gave her a brief kiss. He didn't care if they saw. He had paid for the right to do so, dearly.

The three of them stood quietly and waited until Gwen had departed. The rain picked up and continued to hammer at Percival.

Eventually, Percival spoke. "What can I help you two with?" he asked.

Both of the marines didn't reply at first. Instead, both of them took their time and looked Percival up and down.

"Staff Lieutenant Lancelot Percival, right? Fifth Battalion, with the 104th?" The man eventually said.

"That's me."

"I'm Staff Lieutenant Alexander Avery. You can call me Alex. This here is Staff Lieutenant Linda Churchill."

"How can I help you two?" Percival repeated.

The woman, Staff Lieutenant Churchill, took a step forward. She had a heavy, English accent. "We saw the report, Staff Lieutenant. You're quite the marine aren't you? Took command when your CO and XO went down, seized the refinery with minimal additional casualties, and then went out and saved another company."

The dark-skinned marine spoke next. "We pulled your camera footage too. Watched all of it. Saw you fight during the initial invasion… the push to the refinery… and your fight with Ghar'aran… We even ended up pulling some of the combat footage on your earlier missions. You're a damn good fighter, probably one of the best I've ever seen and you're what, just twenty-two years old? Christ… you're a goddamn terror aren't you? Pretty impressive stuff."

Percival didn't know what to say. He eyed the two marines warily, waiting for the sting. Compliments like that never came unaccompanied.

"What was your mission on Bahak, Staff Lieutenant?" asked the woman.

The rain continued to fall around the trio. Percival didn't reply. He glanced away.

Linda cleared her throat. "I said, what was your mission on Bahak, Staff Lieutenant?"

Percival turned to her. Water streamed down his face, and pain once again began to cloud over his eyes.

"Secure the refinery…. Secure the targets…. Guard them until the evacuation ships could land…" he finally replied.

Linda gave a satisfied nod. "And yet that's not what you did, was it? Instead you chose to take your company out and rescue an imperiled company. A company which a woman you are romantically engaged with was serving in. That sound about right to you, Staff Lieutenant?"

Percival nodded again, his throat growing heavier and heavier with each word that came out from the other marine's mouth.

"You were supposed to maintain position at the refinery and wait for the evac birds. Instead, you went to rescue your fellow marines. A group of slavers infiltrated back into the base and either deliberately or accidentally started a fire while stealing off-world transport. No one survived."

"Yes," Percival said dully.

Alex gave him a sympathetic look. "Honestly, I think you made the right choice. We read the doctor's reports. The slaves at that facility were under the command of particularly sick bunch of slavers – the Feranks. The Jaegers greased them early on in the invasion, but unfortunately the damage was already done. There was absolutely nothing we could have done to save those slaves, their minds were gone."

"You made the right call, the one we would have made," Linda agreed. "Brass saw it too. Bumped you to Staff Lieutenant and you're on the short-list for the Star of Terra. Congratulations Staff Lieutenant, you're going to be a bloody war hero."

Pain welled up in Percival's chest at the thought that he would be rewarded for what he had done, especially with so many of his marines were buried around him – marines who wouldn't have died had he simply stuck to the mission. A clipped "Thanks" was all he could manage.

"But you are not going to be leading marines like that again. No sir. Once again, you're a hell of a marine, but your battalion doesn't need officers who aren't willing to follow orders—officers who let their personal feelings come between them and their mission. An officer like you doesn't deserve to be leading good marines."

Percival knew that. Deep down he knew that he wasn't cut out to be an officer. He didn't deserve to be leading his marines. Good officers were supposed to follow the chain of command. Percival however hadn't been willing to deliberately let good marines die without doing everything he could to save them, even if it meant costing the mission. He hadn't been willing to let Gwen die.

"Good officers – good soldiers – follow orders," Linda finished.

The sky suddenly flashed as a bolt of lightning streaked through the air, growing darker and darker as the minutes crept by. The rain continued to pound relentlessly on the headstones around Percival. It almost sounded as if they were living creatures, shrieking in anticipation. The crescendo of noise rose as the rain grew stronger and stronger.

Alex stepped forward. "Thankfully, we know an outfit that could use a marine like you. Marines who aren't afraid to step outside the lines when the occasion calls for it. Marines who can get creative… who can get the important stuff done whatever that may be. Think you'd be interested in an outfit like that?

Percival narrowed his eyes at the man. "What outfit?"

Alex didn't reply. Instead, he let out a wide, teeth-barring grin.

October 8th, 2201, 0726 hours —Eletania, Hercules System —

Data Corruption… Automatic Reconstruction Failed…Data Corruption…Profile Reconstruction Required…

(Staff Lieutenant Lancelot Percival – Interplanetary Combative Academy Applicant Sierra 239)

Ten years prior to the events on the Hippocrates

"Avery, two targets, twenty meters ahead of me. Relaxed and patrolling, moving towards my location."

"Roger that Sierra 239. They know you're there?"

"Negative."

"All yours then."

"Roger."

Percival pressed himself deeper into the tall grass as the two figures slowly approached him. One was a turian, while the other appeared to be either a batarian or a human. Both were wearing full-faced helmets and had enviro-suits, hiding their faces from Percival.

A small creature that looked to be a snake but with twelve legs silently crept over Percival's armored arm, which lay stretched out in front of him. Exotic trees towered over Percival, similar in build to the ones Percival had seen in pictures of Earth's old amazon rainforests. Eletania was a verdant, garden world bristling with all kinds of life. Its atmosphere was thickly oxygenated, but unfortunately it was toxic to most non-native lifeforms. A dangerous, beautiful world, but ultimately inhospitable.

Percival didn't move a muscle. Instead he silently watched the two approaching figures. The batarian suddenly pressed his hand over the spot on his faceplate where his mouth would be, indicating a yawn. The turian stopped and turned to him, likely saying a few words that Percival couldn't hear through their helmets.

Eletania was crawling with pirate groups. The abundance of life, the toxic environment, and the dense foliage made it an excellent spot to set up hidden bases.

Currently, Percival and Avery were headed towards one such base. The leader of a band of pirates known as the Sharptooths had been sighted on the planet by Systems Alliance recon teams two days ago. Percival and Avery had been tasked with making sure he never left it.

The two pirates moved closer until they were just three or four meters away from where Percival was hiding. Even though the grass should be enough to hide him, if Percival decided to move now there would be no way they wouldn't see him.

Percival's mind wandered back what Linda had taught him during his search, evade, and resistance and escape training. People don't go where they have no reason to go. As long you're not in their way, stay still, the sniper had said to him.

The pirates suddenly turned and began to move off to the right where the path was clearer, having no reason to traipse down into the underbrush where Percival was hiding.

Now that he was outside of their line of sight, Percival could act. He raised a silenced M-5 Phalanx and pumped a bullet into the backs of each of their heads. A spray of blue, then red blood burst out from the front of each of their faceplates and they both crumpled down onto the soft grass. The pirates didn't have their shields on.

"Nice work," Avery replied over their comm link.

Percival quickly scanned the area. Satisfied that there was no one else, he rose from his hiding spot. The applicant grabbed both the bodies and dumped them in the tall grass. The blood he could do nothing about, but with all the shrubbery it'd be hard to spot anyways. Before he left, he searched their pockets and downloaded the contents of their omni-tool into his omni-tool. He knew he'd have to enter their base eventually, but Avery hadn't told him how he'd do it. Percival figured it'd be best to have a back-up plan.

A gang of brightly-colored birds landed on a branch nearby and lazily regarded the black-armored figure. With his grisly little detour completed, Percival dropped back into the brush and continued his long, slow crawl towards the coordinates that the recon team had logged.

He stifled a yawn. It was still early morning by the planet's standards, but Percival had been crawling for the last six hours. In that time, he had covered maybe a kilometer tops. The pirates had been making frequent trips into a nearby habitat where they presumably blew their ill-gotten gains.

"Sierra 293 resuming the mission," he reported.

"Roger. I'll meet you at the rendezvous point."

The morning rays that managed to snake their way through the canopy grew stronger and stronger as time went by. After about another hour of arduous crawling, Percival reached the rendezvous point. It was up on a cliff covered in foliage. Another figure clad in black armor was already there, his big form hidden by a patch of particularly dense grass. A green light lit up on Percival's HUD as Avery acknowledged his arrival. Percival pulled up beside Avery and together the two surveyed the base.

Maybe a two hundred meters away and another hundred meters below was the pirate base. It was a series of connected habitats. Through the built-in optics in his helmet, Percival could see a quartet of guard towers each manned by a single, bored-looking pirate. The pirates had scorched the forest around the base, making it almost impossible to approach unseen.

Percival cursed. These pirates weren't as dumb as he'd hoped. His test was going to be harder than it looked.

Avery pulled an M-92 Mantis Sniper Rifle from the bush beside him and slid it across the grass to Percival.

"Next step, take out the guards in the towers," he whispered over the channel.

Percival grabbed the gun and quietly checked the ammunition block and the optics. "Couldn't you have let me use a Black Widow?" Percival replied. Percival would have to reload and re-steady himself after every shot, and he'd need to do that four times to take out all the guards – and quickly enough so that they wouldn't raise the alarm.

Avery scoffed. "Why don't we just nuke the goddamn base then? I'm not here to hold your hand. Show me what you can do."

Percival peered through the scope. At about two hundred and fifty meters making the shots would be easy, but simply making them wouldn't score him top points. He observed each tower for about five minutes each, noting the patterns, habits and movements of each guard. He then spent another few minutes practicing panning from tower to tower.

Avery watched Percival silently. The veteran N7 simply lay there beside the younger marine.

A sudden burst of noise drew Percival's attention. A large flock of the brightly-colored birds suddenly appeared above the treeline beyond the base and began to fly towards it, flapping and squawking loudly. The guards all paused to watch them.

Lady luck was on his side after all, for that was Percival's moment. He sighted up on the first guard and pulled the trigger. That guard went down with a spray of blood. He then did the same thing for the second, the third, and then the fourth. All four guards were down in under two seconds, and the noise from his rifle went unnoticed beneath the sound of the flock.

Avery gave an impressed grunt, or so Percival hoped. "Not bad, shiny. Thermal scans show that the target is still in his room in the largest habitat. Can't miss him, he's the only krogan in the base. Infiltrate and take him out quietly."

"How many hostiles are in there?" Percival asked.

Though Percival couldn't see his sponsor's face, he knew that the N7 was grinning right at this moment.

"Can't tell you, sorry kid."

Percival sighed. He drove a pneumatic rod into the ground and looped a climbing rope through it. He threaded it through a carabineer on his belt. Speed would be the name of the game. He had to cross that open ground before the guards changed shifts.

He quickly rappelled down the cliff and began to move towards the habitats. He managed to cross the open field unopposed and eventually reached the main airlock.

Percival used the codes he had taken from the omni-tools of the pirates he had killed to open the door. It led into a small vestibule with decontamination jets and a door at the next end with flashing red lights.

He stepped inside and raised his silenced Phalanx. The door behind him sealed while the door ahead of him continued to flash red. The decontamination protocol began.

Percival tightened his grip on his Phalanx. He was confident that a direct entry would be his best approach. As he hadn't tripped any alarms, any guards beyond the next set of doors would only be expecting their pirate buddies, and Percival felt confident that he could take them all out before they could raise the alarm.

If they did, well he'd be in trouble. All he had was his silenced phalanx, combat knife, omni-tool and his new upgrade. No grenades, no omni-tool assault programs, no assault weapons.

The lights on the door ahead flashed green, indicating that the decontamination process had finished. They then began to open.

Percival quickly slipped inside. The airlock opened up into a small locker room with a few spare enviro-suits hanging on hooks. That room fed into a corridor leading to the rest of the habitat. No one was around.

He moved past the room and down the corridor. A few corridors branched off from this main corridor, presumably leading to the other habitats which contained the pirate's living quarters, mess, armory, etc. Percival unfortunately did not have a map of the facility.

It was a messy place. Rotten food, worn-down clothing, empty heatsinks and alcohol containers carpeted the ground. Percival had to find the pirate leader's room before the base awoke. Thankfully, Percival had spotted the krogan and nearly all the pirates headed back to the base in the early hours of the morning after a hard night of partying, so hopefully he had some more time before they got over their hangovers and woke up.

A room came up on his left. Percival moved to it and as quietly as he could, opened the door.

The room absolutely reeked of alcohol, cutting through Percival's air filters. Inside were four sleeping pirates. Alcohol containers lay scattered across the room and personal items lined the desks and closets. The pirates had their weapons at their side, but looked to be in an absolutely comatose state of slumber.

Percival briefly entertained the notion of taking them off the board now while he had the opportunity to and snagging one of their weapons just in case shit hit the fan. It was probably the smart thing to do. Judging from the number of pirates he saw last night going out on their little bender and the size of the habitats, Percival anticipated maybe forty pirates total. He could cut that down by ten percent right now with little effort.

But it wasn't absolutely necessary. Percival preferred not to kill them if he didn't have to. He much intended to simply kill their krogan leader and escape undetected. That would probably net him the most points. Killing or attempting to kill them only increased his chances of being detected.

Percival moved on, headed deeper into the habitat. He rounded a corner in the corridor and what he saw nearly brought him to laughter.

"Oh my god…" Avery whispered over their shared comm channel. The veteran N7 had a direct link to Percival's helmet feed. "Take some pictures, Linda is going to love this."

"Well I mean, color-gender stereotyping did die out nearly a hundred and fifty years ago…" Percival whispered back.

"Have you ever seen a krogan with a penchant for that particular color scheme?"

The corridor grew wider, leading to what appeared to be another habitat, except the doors had been ripped out and replaced with gaudy, pink-themed curtains. A pink banner hung over the entrance with what had to be the krogan's personal crest painted on it. The curtains were a mess of different styles, likely pilfered from various locations the pirates had hit. Some had flowers on them, others had animals, but all of them were various shades of pink.

Percival made his way towards the entrance. He used an armored hand to silently brush aside the curtains, stepped past the veil and into the habitat.

It turned out to be a large, single room. More pink curtains and ribbons hung from the ceilings and the entire room smelled oddly of lavender. The walls of the room were filled with posters and trophies that the pirate leader had taken. A large desk sat off to the side of the habitat. An M-300 Claymore heavy shotgun lay on the desk, as well as numerous credits and a bunch of what appeared to be scented candles.

His eyes widened at the sight of the pirate leader lying spread out on a large bed at the other end of the room, snoring loudly. The entire habitat was the krogan's bedroom.

"That's your target, take him out," Avery ordered.

Percival sighed and raised his Phalanx. He wasn't a fan of assassinations, preferring to fight his enemies head-on. What made it worse was the sheer amount of individuality this krogan was exhibiting to Percival in his choice of décor. Killing in cold blood left a bad taste in his mouth.

Avery must have sensed Percival's reluctance, because he then came back on the line. "The sharptooths dealt in the flesh trade. We got our intel on them from former slaves liberated from Bahak."

That was all Percival needed to hear. While it didn't suppress his disgust at killing in cold blood, it certainly made it tolerable. Justified even.

The armored marine made his way over to the bed, grabbing a pillow that had fallen to the ground near it. His target continued to slumber, blissfully unaware that he'd never awake from it. The krogan's leg twitched as he let out an incoherent mumble. He was deep in a dream.

Percival fought to hide any body language or pauses that would demonstrate to Avery any hesitation on Percival's part. Here was an individual who had been someone's child – perhaps even a father with children of his own. He likely had dreams, favorite foods, hobbies…. It was unlikely that his life had been all bad. He had probably done some good, but any good that this krogan could have gone on to do would soon be erased by Percival's hand. That future would disappear, like chalk on a sidewalk during a heavy rain. Life was full of such decisions. Most people tended to only see the surface of such decisions, but Percival understood that each one was complex, undisclosed balancing act – a web of cause and effect that the human mind could never hope to fully comprehend.

Not that one would ever wish to comprehend the full consequences of one's actions. Probably would go insane…

He sold slaves, Percival thought to himself. James…your squad…. the captain…. They died because of people like him

The marine placed the pillow over the krogan's face, pressed the barrel of his Phalanx into it, and fired four rounds. Four muted claps filled the room.

The rounds passed through the gap between the krogan's headplate and his forehead, burrowing into the bed and taking with them a good portion of the krogan's brains. Blood began to seep through the pillow.

"Target eliminated," Percival reported. Having done the dirty deed, the marine holstered his Phalanx and prepared to leave.

"Good work."

Percival was almost out the room when Avery came back online.

"Sierra 239, you've been made and the pirates are on alert. Mission parameters have changed. Fight your way out, eliminating as many enemy combatants as you can."

Percival's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "What? Avery what are you talking about? No one raised any alarms," he replied.

If Percival was a betting man, he'd have bet a thousand credits that Avery was smiling right now. "Mission parameters have changed," he repeated. "Good luck Sierra 239."

The base's alarms suddenly started ringing and Percival could hear a number of unsilenced gunshots outside the habitat, followed by a number of voices and heavy footsteps. He should have anticipated that the instructors would throw in one last snag.

Percival cursed and prepared for a fight. Undoubtedly a few pirates would be headed in to check on their boss.

The first thing he did was tap a button on his omni-tool and activate his new upgrade. Red light shaped vaguely like armor suddenly flared into existence around his actual armor. The advanced tech armor had been a gift from Gwen right before he'd shipped out on this mission, and this would be his first chance to use it.

Next he sprinted to the desk and grabbed the M-300 Claymore shotgun. It had massive recoil, could only fire one round before overheating and a typical ammunition block had enough for about ten to twenty shots, but it would have to do. He checked the heatsink and the ammunition block, and then slid into position beside the entrance to the habitat, using the curtains to hide himself. Percival braced himself firmly against the wall. The barrel of his Claymore lay poised to catch the first pirate that passed through the threshold.

The bootsteps and voices grew louder. Percival anticipated at least three or four pirates headed his way. In all likelihood, they were the pirates he had spared earlier.

The first one to pass into the pink room was a human. Percival pulled the trigger just as he stepped in. The shotgun kicked hard into Percival's shoulder, the recoil coming close to knocking the marine onto his ass. Somehow, Percival managed to stay upright.

The blast tore off his victim's arm, caved in his chest cavity and flung him several feet away where he lay gasping desperately.

His friend stepped in half a second later and made the mistake of turning to look at his friend. Percival swung the Claymore like a club into the side of the turian's helmet, shattering his faceplate and disorienting him.

The marine then dropped the Claymore and immediately swung around the corner, grabbed the disoriented turian, and began to push him along as a human shield as Percival himself advanced out into the corridor. He tore his Phalanx out of his holster with his other hand and began to fire at the two batarian pirates behind his first two victims.

Once they were down, Percival shot the turian in the head. He then stooped down and grabbed a modified Katana shotgun one of the batarians was holding. It would be much more usable to Percival, who lacked the constitution necessary to effectively wield the Claymore.

Another pair of pirates came out from another corridor, but Percival managed to put them down with his Katana.

But the marine could hear more approaching bootsteps. He needed a plan and quick. Percival didn't fancy fighting thirty-odd pirates in close quarters.

Except he couldn't come up with one. There was nothing he could do except fight for his life.

Percival decided to go on the offensive. His only hope was to prevent the pirates from consolidating and launching a coordinated sweep for Percival. They didn't know where he was just yet.

The marine began to head down the corridor the two pirates came from. A door opened to Percival's right and a pirate passed out of it.

Percival immediately fired a slug into the pirate's chest, then swung into the room he came from. Inside were three more pirates scrambling to put on their armor. One of them dove for a weapon on his bunk.

Percival's shot took off half his face. The other two pirates raised their hands and attempted to surrender.

He thought about it for half a second, then swung out of the room and closed the door behind him. He waved his omni-tool over the door and locked it shut.

A burst of fire slammed into Percival's right shoulder. Luckily it caught on the raised pauldron of his tech armor or it would have otherwise gone into his neck. The marine dropped down and returned fire. Three more pirates went down, having been unable to breach Percival's tech armor before he eliminated them all.

Percival got back up onto one knee but two heavy weights slammed into him from behind, knocking him back onto the ground. Scaly hands ripped away his shotgun and flung it further down the hall.

Percival heard alien voices above him and felt rough hands grabbing at his armor. He knew he was in a bad spot.

He detonated his tech armor and the blast flung his two attackers away. Percival managed to scramble to his feet, pull his pistol out and shoot both of them.

A six attackers appeared from further down the corridor that the two dead pirates came from. Thankfully only one of them had a rifle. The rest were carrying make-shift melee weapons and combat knives.

Percival took a deep breath and fired the remainder of his magazine at the rifle the pirate was holding. A few lucky shots managed to penetrate the casing and rupture its inner wiring, render it useless. The pirate glanced at his weapon, cursed, and flung it aside. He then produced a large, wicked-looking knife.

His tech armor still hadn't recharged yet and his pistol had now overheated. Percival re-holstered it and pulled out his own combat knife. He took a few more deep breaths and readied himself for the ensuring fight.

I'm not dying here, not today, he thought.

He gave a roar and charged at his attackers. He ducked beneath the swing of his lead attacker and drove his knife up through the base of the pirate's head, killing him instantly. Percival pulled out his knife and kicked the pirate's body at his friend behind him. The marine then lunged at the next pirate in line, stabbing him violently in the chest. A spray of blood spurted out to coat the marine's arms. The close quarters nature of the fight was actually working in Percival's favor, allowing him to tackle only one or two pirates at a time and preventing the pirates from encircling him.

A pirate grabbed him and tried to work his knife in between Percival's armor plates, but was thankfully unsuccessful. Percival drove his armored elbow into the salarian's face, knocking his head back and sending him stumbling backwards. He then and viciously whipped his knife across the salarian's throat, leaving it a green, bubbling ruin. The salarian fell to the ground, his hands clutching the gaping wound and trying desperately to breath.

The pirate who Percival had kicked his friend at finally managed to push his friend off of him, but Percival drove his knife into the pirate's throat before he could get fully into the fight.

Percival was panting hard now. The last two pirates took a few steps back and eyed the blood-covered marine wearily. Their eyes flickered warily from the bodies of their comrades to Percival's ghastly figure.

One of them – a human – let out a final, desperate cry and charged at Percival, a hatchet in his hand. Percival side-stepped his heavy downswing and drove his knife repeatedly into the pirate's side. The pirate fell to the ground, twitching violently.

The last pirate fell onto his ass and began scrambling backwards away from Percival, all the while whimpering loudly. The pirate grabbed the assault rifle that Percival had clearly destroyed, aimed it at Percival's chest, and desperately pulled the trigger.

Percival shook his head in disgust. He would have let him go had he not done that. Instead the marine strode towards the pirate. He knelt down over the pirate and drove the knife into the pirate's chest. The man died with a whimper.

The smell of blood and empty bowels threatened to overwhelm the filters in Percival's helmet. He wiped some of the gore off of his faceplate. His armor was now coated in three shades of blood.

He went back for his Katana and slipped a new heatsink into his Phalanx. The marine reactivated his advanced tech armor and continued his grisly mission. Up to this point, nearly half of his training had comprised of real, live-fire missions, but he'd had encountered nothing that had been this brutal. Worse, it hadn't even needed to be this brutal. Percival was sure that he could have escaped without alerting the base. Damn that Avery.

And on and on it went, with Percival growing more and more robotic with every life he took. Every pull of the trigger caused him to dissociate just a little bit more. With each encounter, the screams of his victims sounded a little more dull to Percival's ears. Percival knew that without this unconscious reaction, he'd have a hard time sleeping these next few nights.

The sudden noise of weapons hitting the ground pulled him firmly back to reality. The marine blinked and took his finger off the trigger. The remaining pirates in front of him were surrendering.

Percival turned his head and noticed the trail of broken bodies behind him. Funny, he almost didn't remember killing them.

He turned back to the pirates. "Keep your hands in the air. Move in a single file towards the entrance," he ordered sternly.

The pirates meekly complied. A few of them were crying quietly.

Percival and his prisoners finally exited the airlock he'd come through less than thirty minutes ago. He was covered head to toe in gore of all shades and colors.

Standing outside the compound were six black-armored figures. Some had their arms crossed while a few looked to be whispering to one another. They all had weapons slung on their backs and each of them had a red and white stripe running down their right arms.

Percival recognized Avery standing at the forefront of the group. The big man depolarized his faceplate and looked his protege up and down. He had a wide grin on his face.

"Goddamn…" Percival heard one of the N7's muttered.

Several dropships suddenly appeared over the group and descended. A platoon of Systems Alliance marines exited it and moved to secure the base. Two of the N7's began to load the prisoners onto the ship.

Avery gestured for Percival to walk with him. Together the two made their way some distance away from the group.

"How'd I do?" Percival finally asked.

The N7 stopped and crossed his arms over his chest. "You scored more than enough points. The examiners all unanimously agreed. You passed, kid."

Percival nodded. "And the other candidates?"

"Four other candidates passed, although out of them you scored the highest. One was overwhelmed before the supervising team could pull him out," Avery sighed.

Percival had a feeling he knew which one it had been. "Not bad. Five is about average, right?"

"Right," Avery agreed. The two marines stood in silence for a while, taking in the scenery around them. The sun was out in full force now, and the forest was alive with the sound of wildlife. The sky on Elatania was bluer than anything one could find on earth, and not a cloud could be seen on a day like this.

"That was some performance you gave, kid."

Percival scowled "Not the one I wanted to give, but you guys didn't exactly give me a lot of choice."

"Good to know you aren't completely heartless," Avery nodded approvingly. "Sorry we had to throw that at you. The final test is designed to push our candidates to their limits in live-combat scenarios."

Percival understood. He'd only heard rumors about the final test for N7 candidacy. N7's weren't allowed to discuss it, but from what little he'd heard the test was particularly brutal. Nearly one in maybe ten candidates died.

"We honestly were expecting a lot more hesitation from you given your past performance, but the examiners were all impressed by your ability to move past it when you have to. You demonstrated excellent tactical thinking throughout the entire exercise. Also, none of the other candidates took prisoners, and not a single one came close to the body count you racked up."

Percival scoffed. "Here I was thinking I'd score higher if I didn't kill anyone," he replied. He'd largely stuck to necessary kills only, but that had gone out the window when the instructors had introduced that final twist.

"You're also a lucky son-of-a-bitch. Two of the candidates couldn't even get into their target locations undetected. That flock of birds was a godsend," Avery finished.

Percival didn't reply. He just stood there, coated in drying gore, gazing up at the sky.

Avery placed a hand on the younger marine's shoulder. "Listen Percival, by the looks of it you're going to have a distinguished career ahead of you. Honestly, if I was a betting man I think that a fighter with your talents might get snatched up by the Council before long. They just recently accepted another human Spectre into their ranks, and I'm sure it won't be long before they add more."

"Why would I even accept?" the marine asked.

Avery sighed. "You're a good fighter, but deep down I can tell you're no soldier. Everyone here can. Soldiers follow orders. The N7 have a lot more flexibility when it comes to orders – we're not expected to blindly follow bad ones, but I suspect that even that won't be enough for you one day."

"Ultimately the N7 are a part of the Systems Alliance, subject to their chain of command," Avery continued. "We defend mostly human interests. The Spectres defend not only the Council's interests, but the galaxy at large. Human, batarian, turian, asari… the species doesn't matter when it comes to helping people."

That would be something Percival would be interested in. He didn't sign up with the marines to fight humanity's enemies, or to further humanity's glory. He did it because his dad had done it, and because his dad believed that being a marine would allow him to help people who couldn't help themselves.

Percival had believed it too, but he knew deep down that there were better ways for him to do what he believed was right. Ways that would be less disastrous for the people around him. Bahak had proven that.

Avery pulled his hand away and gave Percival a slap on the back and a wide grin. "You'll probably make a hell of a Spectre one day. Until then, welcome to the N7."