Commandant Ben Hilsop was calmly typing at his desk when the message came down from Jack.

"My Office. Now." Was all the message said; that was all it needed to say. Ben didn't need any more words to know that Jack was pissed at the moment; why that might be, Ben had no idea. But ever the dutiful Sergeant back in the HECU, he had never been one to run and hide whenever the CO got pissed; he took it like a man and would make sure he talked the man down from committing a potentially deadly mistake.

Sighing nonetheless, Ben stood up and walked out of his office while brushing imaginary dust off of his black CP field trench coat; ignoring the two Elite CP's that saluted him as he left his office.

He didn't know what to do about Jack's plans for a purge of the Americas.

Yes, he would chiefly be removing Breens supporters and their sympathizers; but he also had little doubts that Jack would use the Purge as an excuse to target the Rebels and ordinary people as well, and anyone else that did not fully support him and his ideas of a Uplifted Humanity in the Combine Hierarchy.

Ben's thoughts turned even darker as he recalled other purges throughout human history.

Nazi Germany's 'Night of the Long Knives' in which many of Hitlers rival's and critics in the Nazi party were killed, was rather tame with most estimates ranging up to 1,000 people killed; Hitler just warming up for the Holocost, which was of course was far worse. Not counting the Catholics, Homosexuals, Disabled, Gypsies, and other undesirable groups; Six Million Jews died because of it.

But Stalin would trump that, with the combination of 'The Great Purge' which killed between 680,000 and 1,200,000; and anywhere from the Nine to fifteen Million more people killed by Stalin's policies, intentionally targeted deaths or not, was something that was always at the front of Ben's mind as he worked to maintain the delicate balance between keeping Jack and the Combine happy, and the people and the Resistance alive.

Mao had killed somewhere around twenty to forty million people with his great leap forward.

And the Combine trumped them all, with over three billion humans dead; and all the rest enslaved in some form or another. He wasn't sure which was worse; the fact that Aliens had trumped humanity's worst killers in terms of death, or the fact that he and others followed them.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, Ben stopped at the giant Oak doors leading into Jack's office.

Giving a nod to the two Elites standing guard on each side; he knocked on it before entering.

"Jack, you called for me?" He asked in a straight voice as he walked in.

Harper looked up from his desk; and while he smiled, Ben could see that it didn't reach his eyes. "Yes Ben I did, please have a seat."

Ben did so, keeping the same blank expression that had won him so much poker money back in the HECU.

"It seems that we have a whole galactic community on our hands." Jack said, dropping any pretense; he seemed aggravated for lack of a better term. "A whole damned civilization, armed and ready for war. They'll drop our own goddamned moon on us, assuming they don't just cut Earth off completely and leave us and their comrades to our fate."

Ben remained silent for a moment, while Jack fumed quietly; after waiting for Harper to calm down somewhat he asked, "How goes the building for the battlecruiser?"

Here Harper brightened up somewhat, "It goes very well; it should be finished and fully equipped by the end of the week. Why do you ask?"

Ben gave a slow nod as he decided what to say; he would have to choose his words very carefully. One wrong word, and friends or not he could very well end up on Jacks purge lists; "This galactic Civilization, are there any areas where their Government does not have any firm control?" He finally asked.

Jack's expression turned thoughtful, then he smiled; "I like your thinking Ben, yes… we can send our new Battlecruiser out in secret and 'test' it out in those fringe territories; see how it performs and all that. If it does well, we can build more of them; and then the Combine will Have to accept us as equals. If not then, well, orbital bombardment on the Citadels is always an option."

Garrus Vakarian was in his element. Not the part about being stranded on an alien world under dictatorial rule, that was more Nihilus' area of expertise. No, Garrus was currently up to his mandibles in guns; and he loved it.

"Alright, that's the last of your AR and AK weapons; the serviceable ones anyway." He ignored the glower from Zaeed. "This should give you a full platoon of Mass-Effect enhanced rifles and 500 rounds per weapon, plus back-ups."

"Yeah, now we need to get the close-in weapons; pistols and shotguns." The scarred veteran checked off his list.

Garrus flared his mandibles. "Are those as spastic in differing ammunitions as the rifles were?"

He clicked his mandibles in dismay when Massani grumbled and refused to look up. After a moment Garrus said, "Alright, second verse, same as the first; figure out what calibers we have the most of and have the highest capacity. Your fighters have Spirit, but not training, so we'll focus on accuracy through volume of fire."

The old Sergeant chuckled at that; no matter how vast the universe seemed, some things remained immutable. "That'll likely be the 9mm Para. It's a lighter round, but has decent penetration."

"Stopping power?"

Massani grimaced at Garrus' question and wiggled his hand. "So-so."

"Then we'll hold off on giving those the M-E treatment; penetration is good, but over-penetration is useless."

Zaeed nodded, then looked thoughtful. "Hold on, I want to try something."

Garrus waited, and five minutes later Zaeed came back with a pair of pistols: one was a blocky, flat black affair that Garrus thought would be more effective as a cudgel, and a peculiar hook-pistol with a bulbous middle. "And these are?"

"This," he brandished the club, "is a US Army Colt M1911. Americans used it from the Great War to the Gulf War; every single handgun since its inception that was not a revolver has copied its base design mercilessly. This," he held up the hook, "is a British .455 Webley Mk VI. Revolver. It was my grandfathers; saved his ass on Saipan, lemme tell you." He stepped up to the Fabricator and set the Colt in first. "They basically fire the same round, and there's a bunch from private collections we've scavenged over the years. Anderson won't modify his with all the glitz and glam, but I do want to see what she'll do with your M-E boost."

A tap on the console and a moment later, the weapon was finished. What came out had the blocky forward frame common to Combine 'upgrades', with a receptacle for an Energy Plug. Zaeed passed the weapon over and put his in.

Garrus was shocked. "What, you're not going to test it before modifying your Grandfather's weapon?" This felt almost like sacrilege, altering a weapon that had so much personal history.

Zaeed took his newly modified pistol, and slotted a Plug into the under-barrel receptacle. "His then, mine now. Besides, David's already going to kick my ass for messing with his baby. If I don't do the same to mine, well..." he loaded the cylinder and walked towards the range, with Garrus following after.

Zaeed gave a look at his gun, then Andersons before taking aim down the range with his pistol; pulling the trigger.

Despite the fact that he was used to it by now; Garrus was still somewhat amazed at the loud Crack human firearms seemed to produce as opposed to the distinctive Boom of a regular Mass Effected gun. Even with the 'M.E' upgrade, the guns hadn't lost that distinctive Crack.

That crack was followed by a hollow pang from the steel plate used as a target.

"Range safe!" Massani shouted as he walked over to the plate.

"What's going on?" Garrus nearly jumped as Anderson seemed to materialize next to him.

"We're, uh, testing upgrades on pistols sir!"

"Really? How's the Sergeant's antique holding up?" He nodded at the revolver on the table.

Massani sauntered up carrying the back plate. "Dunno yet." He set the plate on the table like a shield. "We were testing yours first." He looked at his commander through a hole in the sheet of metal.

"You what?!" Anderson slammed his hands on the table and leaned over the plate. He was about to speak when he glanced down at the half-inch thick sheet of steel. There was a blossom of burst metal on the back near Massani. He stepped back and leaned down until the hole was eye level, at which point Zaeed stuck his pinky through and wiggled it.

He stood up and extended his hand. "Set the range Sergeant. If you manage to out shoot me, I won't put you on Galley duty for Ulysses."

Garrus let out a sigh of relief as Massani smirked and walked back. He'd have much rather dealt with Shephard's giddiness at her enhanced rifle than get on the wrong side of his new commander.

"What are you looking so casual for, Vakarian? You were in on this, you're on the hook for it." Garrus sagged slightly at the Commander's declaration just as Zaeed returned.

"Range is hot." -Crack-pang-

Nihlus followed the growing crowd moving towards the base's improvised range. When he got there, he was greeted by a strangely familiar sight; weapons training being carried out as a shooting competition. Sgt. Massani was walking people through the safe operation of the newer Dark Energy enhanced firearms, while Commander Anderson was holding court over the actual shooting competition.

He was well aware of his own people's tendency to be competitive, and had used that very bit of psychology to great effect both in training like this, and to accomplish his duties as a Spectre. This posed an ideal opportunity to learn something about these 'humans' in a non-hostile environment. One human in particular caught his interest, as Tali, Cato, and Shephard fussed with the Vortal human's antique rifle.

"What seems to be all the fuss today?" he asked with a cheerful vocal drone.

"Mr. Kryik! Hi," Tali smiled and waved.

It was interesting to see the Quarian interactions now that they were no longer suit bound; and what was even more interesting was just how… 'human' they seemed. Though he did note the two pilgrims seemed to exaggerate every expression; likely a byproduct of only being able to convey emotions through posture and their eyes.

Nihlus did the Turian equivalent of a smile in reply as he looked at Shephards rifle. "I remember you using this to kill the, what was it... Controller Antlion?"

In contrast to many of his earlier interactions with the human, she seemed rather… shy, for lack of a better term. "I…" Shephard swallowed and coughed, "Yes, that is... correct." She replied, sounding uncertain of what she should say.

He looked appreciatively at the weapon. "That's quite impressive for such a rudimentary design. How effective is it now with the enhancements?"

"It's very effective, Shephard claims that this could effectively shoot and kill a target up to nearly a kilometer; and the enhancements double its range, it's ammo capacity, and vastly improves the sights!" Tali exclaimed, sounding very excited; while Shephard just gave a timid nod.

It was curious how in battle Shephard was a ruthless killing machine, yet in a casual environment she seemed to be more easily spooked than a fledgling.

"It um… It shoots very well… Very well." Shephard agreed, her face still shrouded in shadows; but her eyes were glowing with hidden excitement; very much like a Quarians.

"I am surprised by how backward compatible these two technologies are, though I suppose I shouldn't be; despite their differences in nomenclature, Mass Effect physics is ultimately the manipulation of Dark Energy." He paused for a moment, taking in the implications of his own statement. "In a way, your own Vortal abilities mirror those of our own Biotics. It seems odd to me that this Combine takes such great lengths to suppress humanity's potential, given it's clear utility. Why do you think that is?"

Shephard seemed to think his words over while Cato and Tali looked at her in concern as her eye's dimmed somewhat. Shephard aimed her rifle down the range, taking in the holographic scope as she did so. "I… I do not pretend to understand the Combine's... intentions." She finally said, "But… we believe it's because... the Combine desire above all else… Control, I think is the word. And my kind are inherently… independent… They have tried to... control us in the past... and you saw the results... with Jack."

Shephard seemed to practically spit that last part out, not even bothering to conceal her bitterness regarding the matter.

Nihlus nodded, though he inwardly cringed; his very position as a Council Spectre was a demonstration and exercise in galactic political control. Between humanity's apparent stubborn streak, and their experiences with a macro-political entity that ruled from 'Citadels', he foresaw no end of headaches in his future. The fact that Vortal abilities didn't need anything like Bio-Amps meant there were no market controls that could be put in place. Asari dominance of the Bio-Amp market was one of the key measures used to restrict governments from developing enhanced Biotic soldiers.

All of that was even before the potential of the Quarian Migrant Fleet curing their species wide immune-deficiency. It wouldn't be a problem were it not for war-hawks like Admiral Rael'Zorah; his open promotion of the idea of a 'Crusade' to retake the Quarian homeworld had the very real chance of sparking a galaxy wide reprisal from the Geth.

He would need to tread a very fine political line with both of these groups to prevent reactionary elements between all of them from sparking all out war. He really wanted to just shoot something right now.

"May I try your rifle out?" He asked finally.

Shephard blinked, before stammering out; "I-uh-I… Y-yes, of course."

Nodding, Nihlus took the wooden weapon, examining it. The Combine tech was quite unseemly, but the human make under it had an almost Asari designer quality mixed with Turian practicality; the old Iron sights were still accessible, and despite its rather primitive make, it still looked and aimed better than many modern weapons he used in the field.

Looking down the scope, he still couldn't help but feel a certain amount of amazement.

It wasn't a blocky tube filled with magnifiers, it wasn't a box with a high-definition camera that could zoom and magnify; It was a holo-sight that could zoom in on targets from very long distances.

More Technology that the Council and Galaxy as a whole would benefit from. Though if Agent Solus was to be believed, and he'd be a fool not to, the Antlion derivative 'Medi-Gel' as he called it would revolutionize trauma medicine.

He shook his head and refocused on the matter at talon; human weapons technology.

-Crack-pang-

He rolled his shoulder. This was an unforgiving weapon, though he could see through the enhanced aperture that the rifle's solid projectile had not only perforated the witness-plate, it had significantly deformed it.

He safed the weapon and turned back to the young trio. "What does this fire?"

Ayita rummaged in a pocket and handed him a metal cylinder with a bronze cone, tipped with a greyish metal. He gave the round a quick scan with his omnitool and buzzed in appreciation at what he saw. Where Council small arms relied on solid metallic fragments with limited aerodynamics, this projectile was a copper clad soft lead slug. If he understood what he was reading right, these weapons behaved more like capitol-grade mass driver rounds; deforming on impact to maximize trauma to the target.

His own people and the Krogans were the only other races to develop conventional warfare technologies before discovering a Prothean cache. As far as he knew, every other race jumped from early breech-loading firearms directly to Eezo based mass drivers. The Turians had made the transition grudgingly as a political and economic concession with the nascent Council.

He looked over as one of the more skilled human soldiers fired off several short, controlled bursts. By the time he was done, the witness plate was a ragged mass of glowing metal. These weapons could be a decisive advantage to humanity and any parties they entered into trade with. He needed to ensure that party was the Citadel Council, whatever concessions the Councilors needed to swallow to get it done.

"What… what do you think? Is it... good?" Shephard asked, startling him out of his thoughts.

Nihlus nodded, "Yes, it is a very good weapon; the bolt action mechanism is quite simplistic and easy to make and maintain. Very reliable too, if you say this thing is nearly a hundred years old; and the 'Inverse Mass Effect' upgrade made its penetrating abilities on par with that of a regular Prothean based weapon, while keeping the brute stopping power inherent of the slugs these weapons fire."

"I'm glad to hear that you approve Mr. Kryick." A deep voice said from behind them.

Shepherd gave a soft squeak and spun around while snapping to attention; Cato and Tali doing the same at the sight of Commander Anderson.

Nihlus wasn't sure what to make of the good Commander; from what he could gather, the human had been his peoples equivalent of a Spectre, yet from everything Nihlus had seen he would have made a horrible spy.

Perhaps these 'SEALs' performed a different function than he had originally thought.

"We're doing a little impromptu shooting competition, and the loser has to help Gardner prepare Ulysses's meal. And what that entails is essentially being a taste tester; apparently the nastier a headcrab tastes, the more cooked it is. And Ulys loves his headcrab cooked really well." Anderson explained.

"And what does winning entail?" Nihlus asked.

Anderson just shrugged, "Bragging rights, an extra minute given to a 'Xen Shower', and first dibs on upgrades with the fabricator."

"It's for the Honor of the Armiger Legion that we triumph!" Garrus postured next to his neatly bulls-eyed target.

Nihlus twitched his mandibles and unhooked his rifle from it's carrier on his back. The Spirits of his own unit would never forgive him for ignoring such a challenge. "For the Honor of the Legion it is." He tipped his head back and bellowed out, "Hail the Blackwatch; tremble and Hail!" He then strutted over to the firing line.

Wrex chuckled and walked up to his right; followed by Garrus, Anderson, and Massani.

As everyone got ready to start shooting, Wrex had to get one last taunt it. "Just so you guys know, I am Krogan; I never lose." he proclaimed.

Everyone else on the firing line looked at each other; nodded once… then the rangemaster blew the whistle.

Wrex stared at the cooked Headcrab, and had to resist the urge to gag as he smelled it.

He wasn't sure which was worse; the smell or the fact that he had to taste it. It can't taste as bad as it smells he tried to reassure himself.

"You're 'SEALs' must have been top level snipers; I have never seen such a high level performance at the range, besides myself that is." Garrus was saying, and Wrex knew there was a cocky smirk on the little Turians face.

"Ha! His SEAL's were based off the British SAS, which my native New Zealand SAS is a direct descendant from." Massani exclaimed.

"I was my team's designated marksman, it was expected I shoot that well; and there were far better shooters than me." Anderson added with some modesty.

"Why is Wrex not eating anything?" Liara's voice drifted over to his ears.

He heard the conversation at his end of the table drift off; and he looked up to see all the survivors, plus Kelly, Miranda, Shephard, Anderson, and Massani staring at him.

"The Urdnot Wrex would best taste our food; this one requires sustenance to return to peak effectiveness." The rumbling and raspy voice of that damned 'Ulysses' guy behind him remarked. Despite it being mostly monotonic, Wrex could swear he heard amusement in the damned aliens voice.

Wrex slowly reached forward and picked up the headcrab, dangling it by its legs in front of his face. Curse his species nearsightedness, it had cost him the damned game.

"That looks… very well done…" Shephards quiet, stilted, and uncertain voice drifted over to him as he stared at it.

"That's… unfortunate there Mr. Wrex; the more well done a headcrab is, the worse it tastes." Kelly noted, pushing something called 'mashed potatoes' in front of Miranda, who began to poke at it with a confused expression.

As un-appetizing as the 'Potatoes' looked, he instinctively felt that they would be better than what was in front of him.

What's wrong with me, I'm a Krogan; I can eat anything. He thought, steeling his nerves and ripped off one of the legs. He didn't wait to hear the other's thoughts or comments; he just chucked the leg into his mouth.

Wrex's eyes bulged out of his head, as a foriegn feeling spread across his mouth.

Wh-What is this? He thought frantically, as he began to gag; much to his surprise. His eyes started to water as he struggled to chew the headcrab leg; the odd, almost painful effect, growing steadily worse by the second. Is this poisoned? Am I poisoned? Is that what this is? He thought, gagging again as he did so.

He tried to swallow the damned thing, but it felt like it was sticking in his throat; and that horrible feeling on his tongue went with it. Coughing, and now fully convinced that it was poisonous; he spat the headcrab leg out, coughing and gagging the whole time. He smashed his fist on the table, causing the plates and silverware to jump; "Water! Poison!" He demanded.

Everyone else didn't seem to be taking it as seriously as he thought they would.

Everyone was laughing at him; the only exceptions were Miranda, who just smiled around a spoonful of potatoes, despite trying not too. Massani, who was giving him an admiring look; and Shephard, who seemed to take pity on him and telekinetically lifted a pitcher of water and placed it in front of him.

Grabbing the glass and sloshing it around in his mouth, Wrex promptly spit it out as it only seemed to make the sensations on his tongue more acute; at least until he spit out the water, which made it go down by a lot.

Ulysses walked up beside him, holding his cane, as he grabbed the headcrab; "Ah… sustenance." He proclaimed, before chowing down on it.

"I have to admit mate; you lasted a lot longer than I thought you would. That was about one minute of gagging with that damned leg in your mouth; most everyone else lasts about five seconds, I held the record at ten seconds." Massani noted with a raised eyebrow.

Wrex glared at the ancient three armed demon, then turned away as Ulysses slurped up a particularly juicy morsel. "That was... it tasted like pure evil! Like it was angry at me for cooking it and wanted revenge!" The table burst out in laughter.

Garrus pointed with a fork. "I thought Krogan's could stomach-gack!" Wrex had flicked an errant headcrab giblet and scored a direct hit into the Turian's open mouth.

Nihlus shook his head in mock dismay. "If only you could have mustered that kind of accuracy on the range earlier, you might have been spared your wretched fate." He said, Garrus gagging and choking on the bit of headcrab the whole while.

Nihlus glanced at the two Quarians who were chuckling along with everyone else. They were diligently cutting their food into finer and finer quantities. "Is there something wrong with your Reeklet?"

The siblings looked at each other in embarrassment as they tried to come up with something to say. They didn't want to insult his and Garrus' generosity in sharing their supplies.

"Quarian diet exclusively liquid." Mordin commented absently while cracking the shell on something Adams called 'Mud-Bugs'. "Have observed similar behavior in patients recovering from oral surgery."

Kelly nodded in agreement, quietly showing Miranda how to cut her 'Bullsquid Steak'. "As I understand it, your entire people have been confined to those suits for some centuries?" The two sheepishly nodded. "You'll notice some gastro-intestinal discomfort in the coming days, if you haven't already. Be sure to let myself or Professor Solus know so we can prescribe an appropriate treatment."

Some of the table's levity ebbed into sympathy for their guests; until Massani joked, "Well… that's one downside to curing your peoples immune system; everyone will be stuck in the shitters after rediscovering the glory of solid foods."

Everyone laughed at the crude joke, except for Miranda and Shephard; but even they smiled somewhat.

Beep!

The laughter tapered off as Anderson looked over to his communications setup on the 'Bridge', a worried look on his face.

Beep!

"Shit!" Massani exclaimed, he and Anderson jumped to their feet and rushed over to the 'bridge'; everyone else from the table, except for Ulysses, Miranda, and Kelly, quickly joined them.

Wrex tossed a lump of bread in his mouth. "Okay, why do those two look like they're the ones that sampled Ulysses' food?"

"It's the 'Spokesman', he's our chief informant in the Consuls administration here in the America's." Massani informed them, rapidly typing into the console; passwords, overrides, the whole works.

"We don't have much of a command structure beyond communicating with other major cells in monthly updates; but if the 'Spokesman' contacts us, that's about as close as we get to a High Priority Mission out here." Anderson added, removing what looked like a key from around his neck; before inserting it into a port on the console.

Immediately, the screen turned black for a moment, before shifting back to a black room; in the center of it was a human cloaked in shadows, no features beyond the fact that he was male and he had hair, was discernible.

After a moment he spoke, his voice garbled and clearly scrambled; "Hello Commander."

"It is good to see you spokesman, what news do you have?" Anderson asked, while everyone else settled into a rough semi-circle around the monitor.

"I see that you have managed to rescue a decent number of the Aliens; this is very good. But unfortunately, the rest of the survivors have been scattered to many minor rebel cells across the America's; and all the rest have been either terminated, or taken to Hades Gate." The 'Spokesman' stated, no hint of excitement or dismay in his tone.

Liara looked down in sadness, likely thinking of her mother; while the rest of the Aliens looked at each other, wondering what to do.

"As much as I wish that were the only bad news I had to share, there is more." The Spokesman hit a button on his desk, and an image came up.

Wrex leaned forward to get a good look at what he was seeing. An enormous flat black spire could be seen sticking out of a hole in the ground. As the image panned, they could see the hole was at least two thirds deeper than the exposed spire. At first he thought it was a building under construction, then he noticed great hoses with frost and steam, as well as a number of trapezoidal fins. When the image came to a stop above the object, they all saw two holes in the very top of the structure. A nearby tripod walker with a Asarioid figure helped give the entire assembly a sense of scale.

"That thing's light-cruiser weight at least, or I'll donate my quad to science. Are those dual one meter mass driver cannons?" Wrex asked, incredulous.

"That's… that is a Dark Fusion Reactor like what's found in the Citadels. Jesus christ, they've built a fuckin' warship; whats next, a moon base?" Zaeed demanded.

The Spokesman cleared his throat, and everyone quieted down. "The Consul has ordered the construction of a Battlecruiser; it will be ready for launch before the end of the week. The Consul plans to send it to the wildlands of the galaxy, what you Aliens call 'The Terminus'. This will serve as a field test for the beginning of a new spaceborn fleet. Should this test be successful, he intends to build more to create a fleet of ships. From then, the Consul intends to use it to bargain for a higher position for humanity within the Combine Hierarchy."

Green lightning arced around the chamber for a moment. "The Combine must not be allowed to spread!" nearly everyone was driven to their knees by Ulysses' telepathic bellow; even The Spokesman reeled from the other side of the state.

But the man quickly rallied and said, "That is something we can agree on Vortigaunt; the data I am sending you gives the exact location of the Battlecruiser. The Consul's brilliance is his greatest weakness. In his hubris, he has not posted additional security at Hades Gate; as he is already preparing a purge of all of his Political Rivals. As a result, it is mainly Civil Protection Officers and the standard Overwatch Company standing guard over this Battlecruiser and all the Aliens captured from the ship.

"You must steal this ship from them; wipe all data that they have kept, and if possible destroy the facility. My sources indicate that all the data recovered from the downed spaceship is being kept at Hades Gate, and only there in order to prevent the Advisors and the Administrator from discovering the plot." He said it calmly, and firmly.

Everyone was nodding; before Shephard stepped forward, "How… how can we… capture this ship? We are only forty seven… and surely we will not totally abandon this base." She said, her voice even smaller than before; if that was possible.

The Spokesman seemed to smile; "You are not alone, South Mountain contains many old… secrets and equipment that you can use. But to get there and avoid Combine Patrols, you must go through Cumberland."

Shephard recoiled as if she had been struck, and all the humans present winced. "No…" She whispered, "Not there… again."

"I do apologize, but our movements must not be discovered; you have five days to get to Hades Gate and capture the vessel. Use it, go back to your people and beg them for help. Good Luck, Commander." And with those words, the Spokesman winked out.

No one said a word, until Shephard spun on her heel and ran as fast as she could to her quarters; and everyone could hear her practically hyperventilating the whole way.

Pilot A/N: Not much to say for this one.

Wrex and the bit with the headcrab is something that Ian and I had come up with a while ago; introducing the concept of something that a Krogan couldn't eat.

The Council and their Prothean Cargo Cult almost certainly ruffled some feathers when it came to first contact scenarios. Among others, is weapons; because the Asari are the "masters" of the Council and the Galaxy.

They are pacifists, so it probably stands to reason that they did not really progress much in terms of firearms until they discovered their Prothean cash.

Granted, none of the races except Humanity, Krogan, and the Turians seems to have had the need to develop more complicated weaponry beyond trapdoor firearms; as they likely would not have needed weapons of mass destruction until they reached space and made contact with other races.

So this opens up a lot of opportunities regarding weapon development; with humanity's long history of weapon variation and development, combined with the Combines penchant for simply taking already existing tech and beefing it up opens up a lot of opportunity.

Ayita's 1917 Enfeild's (Or Winfeild as we've been referring to it) upgrades are the Holographic Scope (which is the Pistols Reflex Sight from HL: Alyx, just with a magnification ability that goes from x1.5 all the way to x10), the Bullet Reservoir (same thing as the Pistol, again; only its on the left side, and it fits six rounds due to .30-06 being bigger than .45 ACP), and the new 'Inverse Mass Effect'.

The IME is not really my forte since I'm not good with tech, and it was Ian's brainchild; would you mind explaining it a bit Ian?

Ian A/N: IME is my shorthand for the Combine's description of "Mass Effect" technologies. Simply put, it's the use of Dark Energy to make light that which is heavy, and make heavy that which is light.

This chapter is a breath of fresh air before the fight begins in earnest; a chance of the resistance, and the readers, to relax and savor life's bounty. There is also a nod to the reality of the Quarians' predicament. A lifetime of liquid diets will not prepare one for the simple ordeal of chewing food.

It is also meant to show both how versatile the Combine technology is, and how alarmingly fast they are at producing war material.

I can't really say more without giving anything away. Stay tuned, good readers.

Pilot: Well then, I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter; next chapter will be coming next wednesday at the usual time of 11 AM EST.

Leave a review and tell us what you guys think; the feedback helps a lot, you have no idea.

A TV Tropes page would be greatly loved and appreciated.

And we will see ya when we see ya.