A/N: A few notes on the lore here and there, across both fandoms, just so we can have a common understanding:
The Prophet of Destiny does believe in the Great Journey. He is not Truth, Regret, or Mercy. They are one of the few, if not the only in the entire Covenant to know the lie that the Age of Reclamation is based upon. As in they knew that the humans were the chosen Reclaimers of the Forerunners, not them. That lie has followed the Solace. To Destiny, to the entire contingent of the Solace Survivors, the humans are heretical as truth. With the being removed from their universe, and thus, the truth that the Arbiter revealed that would lead to the great Schism, the Covenant in the Mass Effect universe will not come to understand this as they did. Humans are a scourge, same as they were in the year gone past. They work with the humans of the System Alliance now, and also hide their history with humanity, because it is expediant to their survival and tolerable given a few stretches of faith of these humans not being the "same".
Generally, it is now understood by the Covenant that they are fish out of water, and thus, in a different reality all together. Their playbook is not the law anymore.
I saw some shit flinging in the reviews, so, in general, I'm going to address this here:
I'll always defer to the games as the canon for this story's "feel" and tone. As in I am establishing Mai as superhuman, a supersoldier, playing off the power fantasy as presented in Halo, and all of the limitations as such. Her capability is off the charts, and cannot be, at least now, met by any in Mass Effect. She is not unbeatable however. Biotics especially. But in reality her combat effectiveness is not the reason you're reading this story hopefully.
Mass Effect and Halo elements will play with each other, taking themselves apart.
This isn't a story about Halo tech being better than ME tech or vice versa. Or about a war, a curb stomp. No this is a story where I intend to talk about the idea of the Spartans when they are made to face themselves; on the Covenant finding a place in the Galaxy, and, if it fails, each species finding its own path; societal, moral questions of what it means to be good, to be human, and to be the best you can be.
JD and Mai are hyper militaristic, and, when contrasted with the Alliance, with the Galaxy even, they are both a promise of what humanity can be, and a warning to all. They are the worst case scenario, and they have suffered for it.
I mean I will regard the technological nuances with as high a regard I can, without sacrificing story telling. Shout out to Contra140 for verbalizing this in his review.
Same thing about reviews. I'll try my best to answer those that I think would be good for me to respond to, but as always, I want to story tell, not, well, tell, so don't expect much.
Before I get to reviews, I'll just say that this is a Mass Effect story first, at least in its frame. That being said Mai and JD are my focus here upmost. All I'm saying is that everyone will get the attention I see fit that they need.
Review responses:
Zeus501 said "So question...How on Earth isn't a Spartan Leagues Better then an N7? Spartans are literally Super Human. Like I get that you don't want this to be a UNSC curbstomp fic, but Bringing in a Spartan, kinda makes it like that by Default. I mean, if 6 Had wanted to, she could have Killed the Majority of the Crew on board that Training Ship in her Armor. Combine that with the Rookie, who is Equal to an N7 in Skill, and you get a Very Powerful, damn Near Unstoppable team. - um, the S-III's were generally around 6-8 years old when they volunteered for the Program. They were 14 when they were Agumented. - Why did you Make JD not a Marine? It would Make sense for him to stay in the Branch that he is Most Comfortable in. But I do enjoy this story, its rare to see the Rookie in one of these Fics. Good for you, and to be honest, its a nice change with Having 6 in the fic as well, most of these have John as the Crossover Element."
Well generally I'm sure it's in her power to kill everyone, but I doubt she could've. Even she fell to the Covenant in the end, and in the situation she was in, she by far could not be able to do any damage. And why would she? I recognize the Spartans power, but I'm also realistic when going by game logic, in my own creative process I find a nice gully between both extended canon and game canon in the depiction of the power fantasy.
In this fic, I do make Mai older than her other Spartan-IIIs. Carter himself was actually 11 when conscripted, so seeing her as 13-14, and at that an underdeveloped one given her circumstances, is not a stretch to me.
As for why the branch mix up? Well the Alliance Navy is weird. The Marines are very much more a part of the Navy in this world than anything, and it shouldn't be an issue for him.
Ethan76 said "I really love this story, and I'm going over it because it is simply a fun read until you post a new chapter. My only complaints, are why do you use bold text rather than italics, at least when your emphasis on speech. Second, you shouldn't use Human ranks on Elites, they are Minor, Major, Ultra, Zealot, General, and Field Marshal (With a few exceptions for SpecOps, Honor Guard, and Navy). Lastly, why on Earth are they not informing the rest of the Council that they pulled data from somewhere (They could even say the Covenant Ship or from the dead ODSTs) about them being an extremely dangerous and advanced group of Aliens bent on genocide? Or at the very least inform the Human negotiators... Keeping my eyes peeled for an update but I expect it to take time."
I can answer the Covenant rank one. Honestly I do expand Usze's rank of Lieutenant into First Lieutenant Major, and I'm willing to believe that there are breakdowns in "Minor" and "Major" alone much like Corporal/Lance Corporal, PFC and Privates, etc and etc. But yes I'll keep this in mind going on. As to why the humans are hiding what they know? Well it's a very tenuous time, given Shepard's own mission and the drive to get onto the Council. This would only complicate things further with the Covenant, as Mordin in the previous chapters is already beginning to clue into.
Sierra B312 said, "An interesting story this far, although I have to wonder how the wreckage of the UNSC Savannah could have possibly been transported with them.
The attack on the Ardent Prayer, which was erroneously called a Covenant frigate in the first chapter, had to happen hundreds of kilometers away from the Long Night of Solace, if not then the Savannah could have easily been taken out by an energy projector from the Solace.
Assuming that the wreckage remained in orbit and was propelled by the explosion towards the supercarrier, it still wouldn't cover the remaining distance between the point of destruction and the Solace. Even though, the engines were damaged, the Ardent Prayer could still move, and the Slipspace rupture only swallowed about a third of the Solace judging from the cutscene, which is about ten or so kilometers, it is doubtful that the Savannah would have been in the catchment area. Really, from what I can tell, the Savannah shouldn't be able to come along with them. I am genuinely interested in how this can be explained, are my assumptions wrong?"
Honestly, for the purposes of this story, I'll assume the Savannah was in range of the slipspace rupture. The same way I assume the Rookie to be present in Ardent Prayer. I think it'll make for a better experience in the end, so this in itself is going to be a handwave.
Okay, that's it for review responses, thanks for all the positives words and the constructive critique, if you want to talk feel free to say hi in my PM box. I'm not ignoring your PMs if I didn't answer, but what you asked most likely would've been addressed in the story itself down the line so spoilers.
For all of my readers who have come from Manifest Destiny, well, uh, welcome back. If me blowing apart Chuka's hand and destroying the idea of the Special Task Force as a noble cause hasn't turned you off, you should be in familiar territory. Also really super familiar territory as I try to start to give the Normandy crew a little more character. But I'm sure you know Kay's old saying: The wrong place at the wrong time.
Also apologies for taking so long with this chapter, I may or might not have just replayed ME1.
As a writer it sucks to regurgitate, or rather, copy, dialog and paths straight from the derived material, but it's necessary however to an extent. I have to walk through these steps. When Shepard has the reins on the Normandy, expect something a little more smooth.
Section 1-2
Contact Harvest
Stowed away on that cargo ship, Tali'Zorah nar Rayya was at home. As a Quarian, she knew the Migrant Fleet was by no means able to comfortably provide the most living space for each Quarian that would've been seen as reasonably roomy. She, like every Quarian in existence, save for the small dozens who had split away and found a home on some planet in defiance of the Migrant Fleet's quest, grew up on the Migrant Fleet. She could deal with cramped.
She could deal with cramped when she was huddling data stolen from a Geth data core that implicated too much of the galactic peace for her to simply continue on her Pilgrimage all hunky dory.
On route to the Citadel, that was her plan.
That was until the damned Quarian software installed into all environmental suits rung its alerts:
She was glad she did hear it however, regardless of how much noise it made and why it caused a crew member a few lanes down to peek his head up and look in her general direction. She had been through a lot recently, as evidenced by the other Quarian with her.
"What the-?" Keenah'Breizh nar Honorata had seen the same alert flash onto his omni-tool. "It can't be."
"Hey! What are you two doing-!" A voice of a Turian crew member had been heard above them, looking down, alerted to their presence as stow aways.
Keenah had risen up as Tali sat, concentrated more on the alert. It had given her time to fully digest what was being transmitted from the Migrant fleet itself:
/WIDE-BAND ALERT FOR ALL ON PILGRIMAGE/HIGH-PRIORITY/ALL QUARIANS WITHIN 3 RELAYS OF HUMAN COLONY "ALTIS" PLEASE MAKE CONTACT WITH QUARIAN COMM BUOYS ASAP FOR BRIEFING/THIS MESSAGE SHALL REPEAT FOR ONE HOUR
She wouldn't have answered anyway, her self-proclaimed mission was far more important than whatever the Migrant Fleet sent out, but still, it was rare that such a message was called. The only messages that were supposed to come along those channels were messages pertaining to the Homeworld itself, and she knew no new developments on Rannoch were had.
Still, Tali put it in the back of her head to consider, raising her hands up to the ceiling as the ship's guards had found her and her companion. The human colonies were going to become a very busy place, and perhaps Altis was to be one such point of interest.
There was no fear in her heart however as a gun was pointed at her. The Council needed to hear what Saren Arterius was going to do, and she could not afford to be late.
"The Arcturus Prime Relay is in range. Initiating transmissions sequence." Moreau's voice had again filled the air over the PA, but this time it was warranted, keeping the crew in check with the Normandy's flight path out of Sol.
The crew of the SSV Normandy was a crew mostly hand picked by Captain Anderson. From Shepard herself, to Doctor Chakwas in the medical-bay, and even the Marine security, the crew was specific in their roles and conditioning, and what it would mean to humanity was not to be understated. It was the "first" run of that new ship, with all the implications of its technology ready to show up the Galaxy at large.
In another timeline, universe, reality, or whatever alternative schema of history, it carried with it people who would change the course of galactic life forever, hardened and led by a woman who was all-so rightly named.
It was still true now, that woman emerging from the stairway, clad in her blackened, carbon armor.
"Commander." A Private Jenkins had nearly bumped into her as she, in her stride, arrived back in the CIC toward the cockpit.
She walked with an air of leadership, one whose very boot prints when left were sturdier, more lasting, than those of lesser men. She knew why she was here, knew what face to put on for first impressions of her crew.
She was Lieutenant Commander Shepard, Savior of Elysium, Butcher of Torfan, and yet, in the end, all that mattered to the men under her command was that she did her best, as much as she expected them to do their best.
"We are connected. Calculating transit mass and destination."
An older man, Navigator Pressly, had caught Shepard in the corner of his eye. He gave a knowing nod to her, and she gave one back. They knew each other before this, back on Elysium. Passing him and into the ship's forward stations the PA had cut out only to be replaced by the real voice of Moreau: next to him, a sight that was not usually had on a human ship.
Red and black. Grittier than her own color scheme, bowl and ovals and lights covering up a form that was still bipedal, but distinctly predatory. The back of the creature's head was seen: fringes swept back.
"The relay is hot. Acquiring approach vector."
She saw it now, out in the distance, past the windows of the Normandy as allotted to the cockpit: the spinning forks that were known as the Relays. The first time she had been through one she thought it an amazing experience, a privilege almost. Now they had lost their sheen and luster to her, but still the air about them and their mysteries glowed just like their blue auras.
It stared at them, head on, like a blue eye, a blue star, approaching.
Bypassing one last crew member, she finally found herself in step in the cockpit, the Turian that had also been in there revealed to her now. She hadn't seen him get on, but it was no matter. This ship had Turian blood in it.
As she planted herself, looking out and away toward the Relay however, he had made sure, as best she could without even looking at him, that her blood boiled hotter, her eyes cut sharper, and her heart beat truer than any else that would've come. She knew the air of Turian arrogance toward humans and she paid no mind to it. She didn't dismiss it. No. She bested it. In one of the cockpit stations Kaiden had been on duty, helping process the ship with Moreau, all steering that pale horse that had been the Normandy into history.
"Hitting the relay in three…two…" The Mass Effect fields of the Relay reached out toward them, engulfing them harmlessly as Moreau guided the ship along its bearing. All at once, in one heave and ho, the Normandy was taken. "One."
Shot across the stars.
Nothing more than just another commute in the long galactic perspective. Relay jumps were a daily thing, not to be underestimated of course.
The Turian, tribal like tattoos painted white over his face, finally shared a glance at Shepard, and she gave one back, holding it with him. It was an expectant look, and she gave an open one back.
The Normandy was deep in FTL as Moreau finally ran his final checks. "Thrusters… check. Navigation… check. Internal emissions sink engaged. All systems online. Drift… just under 1500 K."
Moreau seemed pleased, casually verifying it all, fingers dancing across his orange, holographic control panels.
"1500 is good. Your captain will be pleased." The vibrating drawl of the guest made note with a nod, stepping back away and out of the cockpit, off into the ship.
Moreau glanced over his shoulder, waiting till the Turian was out of ear-shot.
Flatly, "I hate that guy."
Shepard gave one amused huff.
"Nihlus gave you a compliment… so you hate him?" Kaiden posed the rational, obvious counter point.
Jeff "Joker" Moreau however, was the person to respond in such a way. He was more than good. He was the best damn pilot in the Alliance as far as he was concerned. "You remember to zip up your jumpsuit on the way out of the bathroom? That's good. I just jumped us halfway across the galaxy and hit a target the size of a pinhead. So that's incredible!" In a sense, it was true, but then again just being good at your job was by itself no means worthy of the praise he was seeking. "Besides, Spectres are trouble. I don't like having him on board. Call me paranoid."
Shepard would've done a double-take, especially since these two knew something she didn't, but she remembered Captain Anderson's words. She trusted him and whatever plan it was.
"You're paranoid. The Council helped fund this project. They have a right to send someone to keep an eye on their investment." Kaiden scoffed back. The man was always willing to go down the middle according to his dossier.
"Yeah, that is the official story. But only an idiot believes the official story."
Something which Shepard was very much inclined to agree with recently. "They don't send Spectres on shakedown runs."
Joker affirmed himself with a nod. "So there's more going on here than the captain's letting on. Besides, bad feelings are an occupational hazard, I know them well enough. We don't go anywhere unless there's a good reason, so what are we heading out to Eden Prime for?"
The Captain was right on time over the comms. "Joker. Status report."
It cut off the discussion as Joker thumbed over one status display: "Just cleared the Mass Relay, Captain. Stealth systems are engaged. Everything looks solid." He reported plainly.
"Good," Captain Anderson hardly sounded like he was giving a compliment. "Find a comm buoy and link us into the network. I want mission reports relayed back to Alliance brace before we reach Eden Prime."
"Aye, aye Captain." Joker thought it fair to report another thing: "Better brace yourself, sir. I think Nihlus is headed your way."
"He's already here, Lieutenant." Shepard could only break a small smirk in the corner of her mouth before her shoulder's squared upon hearing her name. It was an automatic response. Same was diving into cover, returning fire, or grinding back against a partner at the club.
"Tell Commander Shepard to meet me in the comm room for a debriefing."
Joker looked back at Shepard for a moment. "You get that, Commander?"
"I'm on my way." She nodded, beginning to walk away.
"Pff. Is it me or does the captain always sound a little pissed off?"
"Only when he's talking to you Joker."
The conversation she left went on without her, and it revealed a bit of the pilot for the Normandy that she couldn't gleam from the records. In short, he was a smart ass, but every crew had a place for one. Every family for that matter as well. Cynicism and sarcasm had its way to keep people sane, especially in something as macabre as the military, where one was obliged to drop fire on people and not write the word "fuck" on their armor out of politeness.
She used to revel in that type of person. She was once that type of person. Perhaps before she had been eighteen she would've considered Joker the epitome of cool, with enough crass opinions and motor mouth syndrome to meet her mettle, but war had changed her. She knew this. It was hard to be funny after standing before a field of dead soldiers whom were beholden to you and seeing your failures written in blood and bodies. Maybe it was because 30 was staring her in the face like the promise of a new chapter in life, or that, something was supposed to have happened that would've reset her world view, but for now, she fell into stoicness that she felt around her like the armor.
She was world weary and she had barely stepped into the galaxy. Hardly been outside human space.
"I'm telling you, I just saw him! He marched by like he was on a mission!" Navigator Pressly was a man who had reminded Shepard a bit too much of her father: career military, of course and a stereotypical example thereof. Ironic that she still ended up in the service regardless. Like any two-bit run-away from home, she had rebelled against parents that were either too busy or never there. She and her mother were on good speaking terms, but in the end, her father was simply her father, commanding some ship out along the colonies.
"He's a Spectre. They're always on a mission. Hell, I even heard that a Spectre showed up at Altis when this "Covenant" showed up few weeks ago." Chief Engineer Adams down by the Normandy's core had talked to Pressly over the ship's comms, the Navigator toying at the stations near the galaxy map of the Normandy.
It was one of the first she'd seen. Such elaborate displays usually not afforded to the Alliance ships Shepard as she knew it served on.
"And we're getting dragged along with him!"
"Relax, Pressly. You're going to give yourself an ulcer."
The line was dropped, left at that, as Shepard found her way to Pressly. He turned, promptly saluting. "Congratulations, Commander. Looks like we had a smooth run." He had paused, considering his words. Indeed the last dust off had been much rougher, much more… volatile in its nature. He saw those two humans again and given the same security briefing as everyone else who had seen them: Don't worry about it. "You heading down to see the captain?"
She nodded. "Yeah… Sounds like you have issues with our Turian guest."
Pressly shook his head. Shepard was prodding as usual, pinching. He had been under her conversations before. "Sorry, Commander. Just having a chat with Adams down in Engineering. Didn't mean to cause any trouble, but you have to admit-"
Shepard had cut him off. "Something's up?"
"Yeah," Pressly agreed. "Between two Special Warfare Operators and a Spectre, the entire crew is feeling it."
She was liable to see it his way. From his view as a crewman, not a commander. She remembered every day that the only thing she had over anyone was rank. She had walked the Earth and seen the salt of the ground. She knew better than to see herself as over them. "Trust me, I don't think we're getting the full picture Pressly, for anything."
The Navigator leaned against his console gently, briefly looking at the galaxy map: Destination Eden Prime. Only then had Shepard then confirmed their destination.
"Eden Prime?" She asked him again.
"Yeah. None of anything we're doing is making sense."
She agreed, puckering her mouth before giving herself a nod. "Be at ease Pressly."
"Hard to do so ma'am. I mean, just think about it: Captain Anderson doesn't need to be on deck for a shakedown run, and a full complement? Why bother?"
Shepard pointed one finger up at the ceiling vaguely, as if it was the entire ship. "Something could happen," she rationalized. "Never know when the fires start breaking out because of this skeleton drive."
Pressly could agree vaguely. "I guess. But still I can't help but feel we're primed for something else. Can you explain the Spectre? The Turian Hierarchy would've sent someone directly from Palaven, not someone underneath Council jurisdiction if they wanted oversight on this ship's run." Shepard had noticed his armor, a gun confidently on his hip. "Spectres don't come along to observe shakedown runs, and Nihlus looks like he's expecting some heavy action. I don't like it."
"Be at ease Pressly." That's all the Commander could say. "I'll try to find some answers when I talk to the Captain."
"Yes ma'am." He bowed out, back to his console as Shepard continued to walk around it, right into the throes of another heard conversation
"I grew up on Eden Prime, Doc. It's not the kind of place Spectres visit." Corporal Richard Jenkins. Eden Prime-born. A certainly jubilant individual. A rookie by any other name. "There's something Nihlus isn't telling us about the mission."
Doctor Chakwas had been sure to air her reluctance in accepting such skepticism. "That's crazy." She exasperated. "The captain's in charge here. He wouldn't take orders from a Spectre."
She was an older woman, Shepard could see. Her record betrayed her age however. She could've gone into a private practice anywhere, research anything she wanted comfortably. And yet, still, she joined the service. Her dossier was glowing with recommendation, Shepard remembered.
They both acknowledged her as she stood by their conversation.
"Not his choice, Doc. Spectres don't answer to anyone. They can do whatever they want. Kill anyone who gets in their way."
Shepard had twinged her lips for a moment. To be fair, most soldiers on the field operated on the same modus operandi. She knew she had.
"Ha!" Chakwas belted one chuckle. "You watch too many spy vids, Jenkins."
They both finally turned to Shepard. Jenkins went to render salute, but Shepard showed him her palm. There was no need. "What do you think, Commander? We won't be staying on Eden Prime too long, will we? I'm itching for some real action!"
Real action. She smirked inwardly. She looked for real action once. As a twenty-year-old, freshly minted lieutenant as a Marine in the Systems Alliance Navy. It eluded her then, until it found her on Elysium. War had changed her.
"I sincerely hope you're kidding, Corporal." Chakwas had known better as Shepard had. "Your real action usually ends with me patching up crew members in the infirmary."
"Every mission is just another mission, Corporal. You need to calm down." Her voice was stern, spoken like an officer. She was one.
He shrugged. "Sorry Commander, but the wait is just killing me. I've never been on a mission like this before! Not one with a Spectre on board!" As if anyone knew their current mission anyway. Though Jenkins had a guess.
"Going to let it get to your head?" Shepard teased.
Chakwas, if she were younger, might've been a good bar crawl partner the Commander would've deduced based on her follow up. "I think I might have something for that, if that's the case Jenkins."
Before he could've been wounded by the jesting, Shepard asked something, at least, mission pertinent: "You grew up on Eden Prime, Jenkins. What's it like?"
The man's gaze became very old, and yet very youthful at the same time: remembering his childhood. "It's very peaceful, Commander. They've been real careful about development so you don't have any city noise or pollution."
Shepard remembered the first time she saw the stars. When she ran away from home, from her nanny, as a teen. She ran away from Los Angeles across the ocean, into Asia, into Russia. In the wilderness of the Taiga, huddled underneath a tarp with a weak fire keeping her warm, she looked up and saw the stars for the first time in her life: just as God intended.
That alone was worth, well, the stars themselves.
"My parents lived on the outskirts of the colony. At night, I used to climb this big hill and stare across the fields back at the lights from the main settlement." He seemed wistful, but his energy radiated from his young face. "It was gorgeous. But when I got older, I realized it was a little too calm and quiet for me. That's why I joined the Alliance. Even paradise gets boring after a while."
"Why would a warship be going to paradise then?" Shepard had reiterated Pressly's concerns.
Jenkins shrugged. "Safe place. Good as any to have a shakedown run at. It's just that Spectre that's throwing everyone off, Commander. If it's a real mission, I just want it to start."
She had squinted one eye at him, warning Jenkins of his over-eagerness once again, she relented. "Captain's waiting for me."
"Goodbye, Commander." Chakwas bowed out with the Corporal.
The ready room was just around the corner, Marine guards posted, rendering salute. She saw their nametags: Black and Harris. They both rendered salute as she passed silently, offering her a view of the odd man out on the ship.
Man, in the broad sense of the word that is.
Turians were soldiers. Trained from birth into a society that had, in a sense, been like Rome. Many of the spoken names of the Turians had been, at least translated, followed along the line of what humanity had known as Rome. Whether this had been an intentional translation effort by the Turian software integrated into translation solutions or just a pure fluke, it had helped cement their image as warriors of the galaxy.
Here, standing in the ready room, was one of the deadliest of their flock. Nihlus.
He heard the door open, but he was unbothered, slowly turning to her after getting a view of the holographic screen up: it was a green planet, paradise as Jenkins described.
"Commander Shepard. I was hoping you'd get here first. It will give us the chance to talk." She rendered no salute to him, but it wasn't out of disrespect. It just didn't feel right as the flange of his speech came to pass her ears. The dissonance between the way his mouth moved and the sound that came out of it was noted, but translation software had been uber refined in those last few years that there was nothing to wonder about.
He was being inquisitive for a reason.
"The Captain said he'd meet me here." She said plainly, eyebrow raised toward the Turian.
Nihlus crossed his arms. "He's on his way." He reassured.
Pacing back in forth in front of her Shepard had faintly remembered her Drill Instructor. Looking her down, seeing what she was made of. "I'm interested in this world we're going to, Eden Prime. I've heard it's quite beautiful."
The idea of Eden or paradise to the Turians had surely been different, she reasoned, as was why he had asked.
"It's one of our most cherished planets, but I'm not a tourist. I did that once on duty I ended up in the middle of a mercenary slaver invasion."
Nihlus had given a small smile. "Fair enough, Commander."
"It's more than just a pretty picture though, Spectre." She was unsure on how to address him. "Is Spectre alright?"
He raised his three-fingered claws. "Nihlus is fine, Commander Shepard… and how do you mean?"
She nodded in response, pursing her lips before answering carefully. "I traveled on Earth for a long time before I became a soldier, Nihlus, and I see a lot of Earth in Eden Prime. I can't be the only one who must think that."
"A perfect little world on the edge of your territory?"
Again, a small nod. "It's something worth protecting."
"And you will be that protector?" Nihlus walked back to that screen, his back to Shepard.
Her aggravation that sprouted up in that moment hadn't been that of a human versus a Turian. No it had just been the fact everything felt like there was a layer she had not been privy too yet. She would just outright ask. "Is something up, Nihlus?
He turned back around. "Your people are still newcomers to the galaxy, Shepard. The galaxy is a very dangerous place, and I'm sure you understand that, I don't mean to imply otherwise." He said placatingly.
"I'm not young, Nihlus." There was a little wist in her voice. "I've lived a life."
"I know." He understood. "I've seen your file."
"What?"
Why would a Turian be privy to her dossier?
The doors opened behind them before she could ask, and in had come the Captain.
There was not a grim look on his face, but rather, that of wariness. He said the right words to keep Shepard complacent, then and there. "I think it's about time we tell the Commander what's really going on."
"This mission is far more than a simple shakedown run, Shepard."
Caught between her captain and a Spectre, she was right to throw glances both of their ways. "I figured there was something that wasn't being told to me." The entire damn crew figured it. "Does it have anything to do about Chief Gul and Chief Dur-"
Anderson seemed stressed at the moment the Chiefs came into play, raising his hand. Nihlus cocked his head. He had been given a crew manifest of the Normandy and he didn't recognize those names. "No Shepard." He said once. "This shakedown run is a cover for us."
"Because?"
Anderson tried to avoid Nihlus's trying gaze, his mandibles twitching inquisitively, hoping the Spectre didn't catch what had been said. "We're making a covert pick-up on Eden Prime. That's why our stealth systems are running."
The Normandy's stealth systems, as briefed to her, hadn't been exactly cloaking or pure stealth. Anyone looking out a window would've seen her. Though windows had been out of style, and the Normandy's ability to suck up any of its heat emissions into internal sinks, waiting to be discarded at a more opportune time, had been more or less gifted it with invisibility. It meant that, even in human space, the Normandy was a ghost.
"There a reason you kept me in the dark, sir?" She asked.
He nodded. "This comes down from Prime Minister Shastri himself. Information strictly on a need-to-know basis, and now you need to know." He looked to what Nihlus was looking at: the screen of Eden Prime. A closer look had revealed something more to Shepard: ruins. Ruins that had only been seen once before. "A research team unearthed some kind of beacon during an excavation… It was Prothean."
Her eyes tracked the captain as he came to step besides Nihlus. "They might've disappeared 50,000 years ago," Nihlus started, with reverence. "But their legacy remains. The Mass Relays, the Citadel, our ship drives… all of it, based on Prothean technology, reclaimed by us."
Anderson nodded in agreement. "The last time this happened, Shepard-"
"It was big." She stepped out of line, knowing full well what it was. "It jumped us ahead two centuries didn't it?"
Anderson sucked in the spit through his teeth gravely, in agreement. "We don't have the capabilities to handle something like this. Our research and science departments are already tied up with the cooperation with the Covenant on Altis, and even if we hadn't been we would've needed outside assistance. The Citadel and the Council Races are the only ones able to fully, properly, study this."
"It's wise that your captain views this as going beyond your species, Commander." Nihlus said simply, head tilted down into the cusp of his armor. "Prothean ruins and caches are hardly ever found, and the discovery of one would be something, hopefully, that the entire Galaxy can benefit from… even this new, Covenant, that has appeared in your space."
Shepard had drew herself in for a moment, considering, thinking, before looking back to the Spectre. "Would the Council really share something as impactful as this with a new coalition of aliens that just blipped into existence days ago?"
Nihlus had, probably, chuckled to himself. "I am generally speaking, Commander. While matters of the Protheans are something surely the Council are interested in, and don't misunderstand me, we too are also interested in the Covenant, but in the end according to your Ambassador the Covenant is an internal affair." The Turian didn't seem quite to believe himself, but he trusted the situation. Last he had heard from the wire his mentor had been there: Saren Arterius. "How you disseminate their arrival with implications that arise from this, is a Human matter, as long as their rights are fully respected as any species is expected to have and regard to."
Anderson had stroked his chin. He had heard enough of the Covenant in those last few days, and how strange that this mission, seemingly the most important of all of human history, had been almost pushed asides by something else. "Enough politics, Nihlus."
He rose one hand. He had one more point. "You humans don't have the best reputation." Shepard had fought Turians before. Mercs, of course, not representing the Hegemony, though she knew the predatorial flanging of a Turian all too well: in their eyes, their teeth, the way their talons moved. Nihlus wasn't threatening her: just reminding her of what he had been. "Some species see you as selfish. Too unpredictable. Too independent. Dangerous, even. But I have reason to see it differently, Commander Shepard."
He stepped toward her, and she breathed in silently, staring at the Turian dead on, a foot taller than her. He moved slowly, just barely out of a range that would've been considered impolite to be in. Chest to chest.
"Nihlus wants to see you in action, Commander. He wants to evaluate you."
Shepard broke her composure. "What?"
Nihlus didn't size her up. No. He stepped behind her, supporting her.
"What do you mean, Captain?"
Anderson had, if he admitted to himself, not been the best judge of character and soldiers, grasping at non-objective ideas, abstractions, that definitely went against the judgement of Hackett and Udina. He always seemed to pick them right.
As was why that Spartan was here. Why the Shock Trooper was.
As was why Commander Shepard too had been here.
"The Alliance has been pushing for this for a long time." Anderson put weight into his words, offering a hand almost to Shepard as if trying to visualize it. "Humanity wants a larger role in this galaxy, with the Council, shaping Interstellar Policy as we expand."
"And that means-" It hit her like a gunshot, stopping her words. She looked at Nihlus in a new light.
Anderson continued. "The Spectres represent the Council's power and authority. If they accept a human into their ranks, it shows how far the Alliance has come."
"It also shows far you've come, Commander." His flange dropped low, looking at her, a Kubrick stare. "Do you know who else would be able to take up the mantle of Spectre?"
"Captain Anderson, sir. Commander Ryder. Hell, even Grissom himself-"
Nihlus stopped her. "There's a reason we chose you Commander, but we cannot tell you. All you should know is that I put your name forward."
Shepard spoke with surprise on her face. "You did?"
He nodded once, and, for a moment, Anderson flinched in pain, but he agreed with Nihlus. "Earth needs this, Shepard. We're counting on you."
"I need to see you in action for myself. Eden Prime will be the first of many missions together."
The rest of her life had been put before her: service to the Council, to the Galaxy, in the name of Earth and the Alliance. She didn't know what to feel really. She didn't feel anything. Just a future that seemed… heavy.
"You'll be in charge of the ground team. Secure the beacon and secure it back to the ship. Nihlus will act in observation."
She was a soldier, in the end now. She was to follow orders. "Just give the word, Captain."
"We should be getting close to Eden Prime-"
"Captain! We've got a problem!" Joker's voice rang through the comms to that room.
There was something that they needed to see, and see it they did when the Captain asked for it to be sent to the ready room.
We all know the story, what it is, what it was, and what it will be.
What was seen in that message, that distress call, was something that could've only happened on that mission, on that day, and on that ship. A darkness from beyond the stars: an attack on Eden itself. The first battle in that War in Heaven, beamed directly to the Normandy.
In several hundred thousand years' time, when they would speak of the Shepard and her Demons, they would always start the story here: three men looking at an image, over half a minute in.
A beast, clad in black. A harbinger for the times to come made into the image of leviathans. A shape seen only in nightmares, spoken in horror stories.
It came to destroy, and it destroyed, the despair in faces of those in that transmission read before their destruction.
"Status report?"
"Seventeen minutes out, Captain. No other Alliance ships in the area." Joker responded back to the Captain. The situation even layering his usual snark.
"Take us in, Joker, fast and quiet. This mission just got a lot more complicated."
They had a mission, regardless of the circumstances. "A small strike team can move quickly without drawing attention. It's our best chance to secure the beacon."
Shepard hadn't cared at that moment. "There's a colony there. We need to provide support, especially if comms are cut."
Anderson had seen Shepard's pain, her drive, but- "This is bigger than Eden Prime, Shepard. Survivors are secondary here."
"Bullshit."
"Shepard." Anderson sterned, but his XO didn't back down. This wasn't the time or place. "Either way you're going in, and we'll mobilize the rest of the contingent."
There was a hint of bitterness in Shepard, come and past in that second. Anderson would've said to keep herself under control, to know what was at stake and it reflected poorly upon her, but, in the back of his head, Nihlus couldn't help but feel… impressed.
Idealism often died with age and experience, but when kept, it saved more people than it killed. Spectres operated on the pleasure of the Council. Whether that meant they were saving people or not, it was no factor. Still, most Spectres who were still sane kept themselves hoping their actions would save people.
Nihlus would not hold her in judgement for this.
"Aye sir." She did reel herself back in, just the slightest.
"I'll meet you down there in the bay in just a second."
She saluted him down as she left, not even paying heed to Nihlus. A storm brewed in her wake: air sucked from Nihlus's lungs as he saw Shepard's stride. This wasn't his only exposure to her. He'd been a bad special agent if he had been. Reconnaissance was in the job description. He'd seen her in battle from video footage, seen stills of her in public, on leave. She burned brightly, the hottest fires within her as she fought, the skill she used to fan it nearly incomprehensible. On the other hand: she was kind, she was empathetic, she would give her life in the name of a stranger.
"I observed her once. Drained her entire damned wallet and then her Summer in order to get a horse farm in… Asia, I think, back into shape." Nihlus mused as the door closed behind her. Anderson looked at him expectantly, to explain. He did. "They shared one conversation. An old, old human male with old, creaky bones, at a farmer's market. She dropped everything she was doing and helped him fix his farm from scratch."
Nihlus's mandibles moved, seemingly, on their own as he stared blankly at that door she had gone through.
"Are there Spectres like that?"
Not him. Not Saren Arterius. Not Avitus Rix. Not Tela Vasir. Not even the first: Beelo Gurji.
He couldn't answer Anderson's question. There had never been a human spectre before. There hadn't been a Spectre before who, after so many years, remained in touch with simpler times. With someone who they were proud to be.
He remembered how young he used to be. How black and white the galaxy was. He remembered how proud his family was of him. For Nihlus, that seemed like another life. "Not after the Council is done with you."
Nihlus was wrong though, stepping with the Captain to join the rest of the ground team in the bay.
The Council's dirty work, the proxy and cold wars throughout the borders and the stars, criminals and evils that came with the galactic civilizations naturally. They were, of course, a part of the reason why Nihlus could not ever go home again (why he wouldn't be able to go home again, soon enough even). No. What had made people like him, who humanity had wished Shepard to be, was the Galaxy itself: history upon history all being funneled down and forced to be sifted through by them, the Spectres.
The weight of the galaxy itself on their shoulders, people like him forced to make decisions. Mass effects.
No one person had the right, or the ability, to make such a choice. The Genophage was one such decision made by the Council, overseen by the Spectres, and now the galaxy had paid for it all.
What would happen on Eden Prime, who would be on Eden Prime, the galaxy would bear witness to its ripples for all time.
"What's your proficiency with Visual Signage?" Mai spoke, standing, awaiting orders. JD tilted his head up at her from his leaning sit against his locker. He kept his head tilted at her. "Hand signals. Things like that?"
JD laid his hand flat, shaking it a bit. He was joking with her a tad, but she hadn't known. "Yes or no?" She pressed on. He sighed, standing up, adjusting the sling that he had attached to his SMG. The requisitions officer had given him an odd look when both he and Mai had kept their guns deployed and activated, instead keeping them ready and hung off their forms like the soldiers of the last century, but they let it fly.
"Proficient." He said once, flashing a few of the more obscure hand signals her way: On the Deck, Bound and Cover, Peel off one at a Time. He liked speaking like this, with his hands.
She nodded at him once. "Did we ever check that Alliance hand signage is the same?" She hushed her voice. There hadn't been a comm channel set up for them, between their helmets only, so she had only kept on speaking out in the air. It was no matter, no one was in ear shot and the other Marines onboard were occupied with themselves, only, occasionally, shooting a glance their way.
JD shook his head. "From what I saw on Altis, and then the Montenegro, it seemed the same." He deftly remembered. But with that, he remembered something else. "What's the language of Spartans?"
From time to time, Mai wondered what it would've been like for her to be face to face with a Spartan-II and confront them with herself: to see someone else knowing what it meant to drag fingers across visors, the minute and subtle rocking of a head back and forth to denote danger. She acted as support for some Spartan-II missions. Never directly identifying herself, but nonetheless providing sniper, covert, or recon support. Perhaps that was why she had been able to be who she was: she saw the best in action, and in turn she had become the best herself.
In the end she would always be a copy of them, but it was nice to have hands-on time with the originals.
"Spartan Signs." She said once, bringing two fingers up to her helmet. "I don't know much. But I know enough it could be helpful, maybe."
Lucy, B091, she had heard of what had happened to her following what was Beta Company's suicide mission. How she had become mentally unable to speak and instead opted to speak only in shorthand communications to a small pool of people, one of them being Tom-B292. Mai wouldn't know if, if she had been allowed, to reach out to Lucy and Tom. To let them know that more survived their class. However, her very existence was classified, and even the Spartan-IIIs were subject to the veil of ONI.
"You did one, once." Mai spoke. JD had raised an eyebrow behind his visor. "Usually the only people who have physical contact with us are either Covenant we're about to kill, or , well- Other Spartans."
Gingerly, she reached out a hand, touching upon the ODST's shoulder pauldron. "This means relief, to be relieved." It meant that you were going to be okay: a reassurance. Mai wouldn't have known that, by itself, it was simply understood. JD let her go on though, nodding. She rose one finger up after her touch lingered. A flick almost. "This means private comms."
JD looked down at his own finger, mimicking the deliberate flick up into the air toward his ear. "Can we use that if we want to talk privately?" He asked.
She nodded softly. "Do you know how to use your HUD light signals with the team uplink?" JD shook his head no. "Okay then. I'll teach you. Teach you soon."
She was going to turn away, let him be, but he had a question right then and there as he realized something. "How do you know all this if you were a lone wolf?"
It was a question that caught her off guard: his quiet voice speaking loudly in her mind. A fair question, she supposed. "Just in case."
"Just in case?"
Noble Team was her first time operating in a team. For her to be left behind because she did not abide by standard Spartan procedure and secrets, she wouldn't allow that. Not in the name of the mission. Nothing could hold her back.
Something seemed to be bothering him she noticed, holding his hands within each other, through gloves. His entire form was covered, much like her: his ODST BDU giving him some EVA and extraterrestrial survival capabilities, but because of that she almost saw his moves better, the ruffle of leather and synthetic material having their foley. It was if there was something on the tip of his tongue.
She raised both her hands, palms up, the smallest of shrugs, coaxing him out as he let his hands fall to his side.
"There is… something else that might help us." He hadn't done this for a long time. Not ever since he had left Luna. Not ever since he buried Mom. He rose his right hand to his chest, fingers out and tight, before laying across his armor over his heart before both his hands closed, only to extend their index and middle fingers, tapping them both together. The left hand went away, right hand back up. Shapes, going by in fast succession, all down by fingers and movements.
Mai tilted her head. It was as if she was learning the Spartan language again: of hands and actions.
In the 24th century a very small fraction of a fraction of people were ever afflicted by what had come over JD's Mother, however there still existed a way for them to communicate fully, wholly, and without fault given all parties knew it. His lips moved behind his helmet, automatically, by habit. His silence was perhaps because of this growing up, but he didn't regret a damn thing. It was for his Mother.
My name J-O-N-J-A-M-E-S.
He brought his hand to his chest again, palm up, and then jerked up and then out, as if a question made in a gesture.
Mai didn't respond. He would've been surprised if she did.
"It's a civilian sector language." He finally explained. "One my mother had to use."
"Had to?"
"My Mother was deaf."
JD was signing.
Mai had paused behind her helmet, her mouth barely open, unsure of what to say. She had asked him of a language without words, and she had now realized that he would have no problems with it. His ability to speak a language like that came not from tactical necessity, it came from family. That was where he drew, once, his strength from.
"If you-" JD caught himself putting his fist into his hands toward his chests, the hand that was being held having a thumb up, only to gently push it out back toward her. He was continuing to sign. "If I help you. Will you help me?"
She nodded once, that's when Shepard came yelling.
She came as a fire did, hot and heavy, ready and willing, her own fists curled as she came out of that elevator and everyone stood at attention. "Gear up. Combat loads! We've got hostiles!"
"Combat loads?" There was a ring leader to the Marines that hadn't been Lieutenant Alenko, the man himself tailing in after Shepard. "The hell do you mean?"
"Can it Emerson." Alenko had pointed a finger at the man. "You know how these things go."
Emerson had shook his head, the man obviously tired. "What's our motto Hitman?" He spoke to the Marines around him.
"Wrong Place, Wrong Time!" They all roared back.
"Hooah."
"You know these Marines?" Shepard had asked, opening her omni-tool as she checked her weapons and kinetic barrier status. Behind her the other regular Marines who had been on the upper decks emerged from the elevator, gearing up. Anderson was to be down shortly.
Alenko had seemed passive. "Only introduced to them last week. They're some Marine Raiders that got tasked in lieu of the regular contingent. Another N7 made the recommendation, I hear."
Another? Shepard turned to him, her helmet in her palms, held, an eyebrow raised. "Got a 20 on who?"
"Commander Ryder I think. These are his men, back from the SSV Tesla." She had been trained by him. A fact that she had felt calming to herself in that coming clear before the storm. To her, it seemed like her old mentor had sent a bonus her way, to keep in touch, to keep her capable with the right men and women behind her.
Mai had twitched her head in their direction, hearing the name of Ryder, hearing who those Marines were.
She was used to the cover: having ONI spooks over her shoulders always, and she would've only expected the same here now. Ryder personally being able to keep touch however, it was… disconcerting.
Emerson, JD had recognized his accent as he shot a look at Shepard, getting his rifle out of the weapon locker. It was that of Luna. Or rather, his Luna. New York-origin. "Commander!"
"Yes?"
"What's our deployment? We feet wet?"
She shook her head. "We going green, Marine." She shot off a information packet on her omni-tool, all the ground team designated feeling their own buzz. It was details of the planet, and, oddly, to some, it was also their known destination.
It rung on JD's and Mai's as well as they finally closed the distance between their corner of the bay and the rest of the ground team. They would've fully joined them had it not been the distraction that came from their wrist: knowing of Eden Prime.
The Systems Alliance strayed away from scientific designations of the stars as standard. Names like Utopia, Paradiso, Horizon and names like them had dominated human owned systems. It would've been impossible for Mai and JD to think of the stars differently from how they did, but because of that, when they saw the Exodus Cluster and the Utopia System, they didn't read those words. Not as a image of their intended planet came up and another name appeared in their heads, stopping them.
Coincidences were guaranteed, now that they were still in a Milky Way, and they wondered if the Covenant knew this now too.
"This planet." That was all Mai needed to say as JD remembered. He remembered thirty years ago… This was like a time capsule. An impossible image.
A planet of blue and green. Lush, a paradise. How rare it felt to Mai and JD. To see planets that had still been green and blue despite the Covenant felt impossible, for the glassing did away with that. There, however, was something more to their feeling, something that betrayed their logic as if it was an answer reaching out to them. Both of them. It stared at them like the giant planet that had been holographically telegraphed where the galaxy map was. Looking down the cockpit, out the window, that same planet was rapidly being approached by the Normandy.
It was an obscene thought, then an abstract thought, then an impossible one.
Every UNSC service member had remembered this planet by heart. It was where the war started. When the Covenant first emerged from the void and in one fell swoop crushed any defense forces in orbit and on planet, transmitting this one message burned into the stars and the corpses of every human died that day:
"Your destruction is the will of the gods, and we are their instrument."
A missing captain on Feburary 4th, 2531 had said it best when that planet was reclaimed from the alien foe:
"Five years. Five long years. That's how long it took to take Harvest back."
History had a way of repeating, even across galaxies, universes, stories, and it was an ironic mistress that teased and payed homage. It put a planet in front of two humans out of their own history and made them remember where it had been made and began. Thirty years ago, the Human-Covenant War began in another universe. Now another would start again on a familiar stage, the realization heavy. The heavy slam of JD stumbling in his steps as he took that information in was of a cold sweat. As for Mai? Her mouth was agape.
Eden Prime, as known to the UNSC, as known to Jon-James Durante and Mai, was Harvest.
"School circle." Kaiden had yelled out, and so it had happened. This was the first time Mai had gotten a good look at the Marines on the Normandy: A darker man, claw marks on his cheek had been the one of rank below Lieutenant Alenko. That was Emerson, NCO probably. With him had been a diverse assortment: a woman with olive skin with a purple scarf around her neck, a pale, bald man who had seemed to shine in that dark bay, a great bearded man with what looked like a grenade launcher hung around his back… the list went on, over a dozen men and women, but they all seemed to be of the warfighting sort.
The shock of knowing where they were going could not be held by them long as they abided by Kaiden's orders.
She stood, JD crossing his arms besides her, just outside that school circle as the rest took a knee or stood with them. Shepard had appeared again, a sullen look on her face. "We've got mission orders."
Jenkin's face sunk. "What?"
"Eden Prime is under attack." Shepard said fast, hard, Jenkin's eyes sinking into his head and mouth agape. His homeworld was under attack.
It was a face that JD and Mai had seen a thousand times over. It was a face that Mai had seen written on a Spartan's. Jorge knew his home. It was Reach. He wanted, of all things, to die for it, and she privately thought that maybe she did deny him his destiny in doing that. Though she stood by what she said to him: He was too expensive to die, and she was ready to go.
"By who?" Jenkins had been trying to still form the idea in his mind. "Pirates?"
Shepard hesitated on answering. "We have no comms or intel on the ground, but from what we can tell it's not a pirate or mercenary faction. Early warning grid would've been able to pick them up."
Did the Alliance know what it was like to lose an entire world? Sure, Elysium might've given them a taste, but did they know the true insanity of losing millions, billions, per day? It had taken the UNSC years to get used to it, but here, today, Jenkins had been cursed with the knowledge of that feeling. It made his blood boil.
"We need to get there. Now." There was steel in his jaw and bite on his words.
Shepard had felt the cold hit her as Jenkins said that. It was his home. "We will, Corporal. We will."
Déjà vu. JD had heard this too many times: so many ODSTs had gone on missions that had been too personal. Many of his last squad had come from Reach, and they carried that rage within them. Home was home, and here they were, a man and a woman with no place to call home.
"Captain on deck!" One of the Marines who had been facing the elevator had cried out. It was Anderson, a war path toward them tracked.
Everyone rendered salute and stood rigid straight, but the Captain had no time for such pleasantries, just standing barely outside the circle.
"You have the floor Commander. I think you know what we have to do."
Thrown on with responsibility. She knew the dance, reluctance as she was to always take more on. "Aye sir."
It was if she was a coach and this was the last five yards of the football game, her team over her as she crouched, using her omni-tool to plan the order of battle. If Mai and JD, if anyone for that matter, had any doubt in her effective, applied leadership, it was disproven now as she comfortably fell into it.
"This isn't how I wanted to do icebreakers," she started, trying to ease people into a combat situation. "But I need to know who I got here."
Alenko had started but Shepard shook her head. "I want to hear it from the NCOs down, Kaiden."
Emerson seemed surprised. "Marine Raiders, ma'am. SOF-Capable. Not like you, but I like to think store brand is pretty good."
"You any good at handling SAR?"
"On occasion." A woman to Emerson's side spoke up. She had an accent. Not British, close though. South African perhaps. JD knew the type when they came up from the New Mombassa Space Elevator.
"You one element?" Shepard continued.
"Yes ma'am." They all answered back.
"Okay we'll keep it that way." She shot a glance specifically at people. Kaiden. Jenkins. Mai and JD. "You guys are my fireteam."
Mai nodded, subtly. Again, forced to work with people. She didn't have a choice.
JD had grown anxious at that. He had been through this process a hundred times, and each time, his squad had ended up dead. Was he a curse? Or was he just unlucky? Each time it was tested he had wanted to die anyway.
"What's your ident Emerson? Sergeant? Right?"
He nodded. "Hitman."
"Okay." She pulled up a map of the AO and people started synchronizing displays with Shepard's omni-tool. "We have two taskings. One has an Op Sec that is probably out of your pay grade-"
"Relating to the Turian?" The accented woman again spoke, thumbing to Nihlus by the weapons lockers. He had been observing Shepard and only slightly bothered by a human calling him out. He was used to it.
"Can't confirm or deny." The woman tightened her jaw, letting Shepard continued. "That objective is on a need to know, so my Fireteam will be briefed separately on that. The other tasking is this: We have little to no intel on the ground but we can assume the colony is under attack. Go in, link up with Colonial Defense militias, and make whoever is out here start pushing daisies, can I get an affirm on that?"
"Oorah." The Marines responded back.
Shepard nodded, pleased. "We'll have two Fireteams on the ground. From here on out I am designating all deployed infantry assets from the Normandy as Hitman."
Mai had blinked once or twice. During a few ops in her time as a Spartan, she had been given that codename. It fit her, however. It did not belie her purpose: Noble, Majestic, Eagle, Lancer, and so on and so forth, all surgical and lofty names that, perhaps, were not indicative of her brutality. Hitman was right. It was who she was.
"I'll Ident as Hitman Actual for the duration of this operation, hooah?"
"Hooah." Emerson had adjusted his beret, leading the one word chant up and down in recognition of Shepard.
"I'll be leading Hitman 1 Section. Emerson, you're tasked with Hitman 2 Section. You're AO is in defense of the colony and linking up with any defense authorities."
The darker man nodded, looking around his men, all of them sharing his gaze with him, and then back to her. Corporal Loke had ran her gloved hand on her chin. "We have any fire support from the Normandy?"
JD would've asked the same if he were up to ask. Normally he would've relied on another ODST to speak for him, they often thought alike, but it was needed now. Better up armored than under gunned.
Shepard nodded, thumbing back to the IFV in that bay. "You have the Mako. Hitman 1 Section is dropping in bodies only." The Commander turned her gaze back on her fireteam. Kaiden had bucked up, tightening his teet and jaw. For JD and Mai however, it was business as usual. The surrealness of being thrown back into battle already, it betrayed what new start they had now. The enemy was unknown for once: not the Covenant.
"What's the Turian's tasking?" Mai had said straightly, even with Nihlus in that school circle. The Spectre shot her a look, but made no comment.
"Nihlus has his own directive, and we're acting in support."
He nodded, running his talons over the shotgun on his hip. "I move faster on my own."
Mai could understand that, though she didn't know how she felt about another element running on his own directives in the field. "Do we have an ID on hostiles?"
"Unknown." Shepard responded.
To not know who was attacking, it was odd. The image of that squid like mechanical abomination stuck in her head. It wasn't anything she had ever seen. Perhaps Geth. Perhaps another Batarian ploy or trick. She couldn't give an answer.
"Estimates on their firepower? Capaibilities?" Mai had promptly asked. Her voice had just a hint of filter behind it now.
"Unknown. All we know all comms in and out are dead."
JD and Mai tilted their helmet clad heads at Anderson. Was this a test?
He shook his head silently. No. This was real and they were needed on deck.
"Hitman 2." Shepard started again, said Marines poking their head up. "Act as QRF, standard procedure if this was in response to an attack on the colonies. Play it by ear when you're on the ground though, comm black out."
Emerson tipped his head at Shepard. "How about these two? The Navy spooks."
"They ain't spooks." Shepard had spoken for them. "…Let's just say they're a little like the Normandy." New. Untested. With Shepard at the helm.
"They with you?" Emerson spoke to Shepard, but only bore his look at the armored monster that was Mai. He was worried for his new XO, rightly. What Marine wouldn't be?
Mai balled fists from her hands, and, in her crouch, Shepard saw it.
"Yeah." Shepard said fast, wary, but placating. "They got my back."
Anderson had been quick to keep it moving, flashing his own omni-tool. "Joker. I'm setting coordinates for three DZs. Can you hit them?"
"Who do you think I am Captain? ETA Five minutes."
Shepard had again been reminded of their Turian guest. "Nihlus! You hear our plan?" She cried out.
"Of course Commander. I'll try to keep up." It was a little mocking, but Shepard dealt with it as she threw her hand up, two fingers out and around finally settling on the Mako.
"Hitman 2. Mount up."
"Aye Commander!" They all yelled out.
In her feet Mai felt the Normandy break atmosphere, the pit in JD's stomach returning: one he felt when he was falling too slowly through the clouds. "Open the bay!" Shepard yelled out. That was when the Mako had roared to life, taking center of the bay, ready for launch. Air began to be sucked out, Shepard's red hair fluttering as Eden Prime below was seen.
Acting like this, the Normandy was a giant troop transport, so JD and Mai knew the play as they lined up against the walls and held on. Shepard however, she stood dead center, her form silhouetted against red sky for but a moment before joining the special operators.
"Approaching landing point one!"
Jenkins had stepped out of line and went to the lip of the bay, peering down, seeing a sight that had become too common in a war that two of his fireteam had come from:
A colony on fire. Buildings burning. Dead in the street.
This was his home, and he damned Shepard for making him go with her. Though she was right in that decision. He would've been too distracted. JD was impressed that Shepard knew this, or, at least, he assumed he accounted for this.
"Jenkins. On me." Kaiden had stacked behind Shepard, yelling out to him to reel himself. He did, reluctantly. When he returned Kaiden had put both his hands on the man's shoulders. "Come on Rich, you with me?"
He seemed distant: that one fast image, burned into his mind. "I saw people- people, dead in the street."
"Keep your head straight soldier. We don't want you joining them." Shepard said. She had never wanted to reconcile soldiers like this: in the middle of battle, but there was nothing she could do but do that.
Nothing got more people killed like emotional soldiers.
It's why Mai had been so effective, and why JD been so reserved, so silent.
It was a different world now. The ODST tried to reach out a hand, but Mai's hand had found JD's shoulder first. He looked back to a unpolarized visor, her face hidden, but he felt like he could read it as she let her hand fall from his shoulder.
Wasn't the time or place to make connections.
He disagreed. He disagreed deep in his gut, his heart, though, in the end, she was his superior.
Jenkins calmed down enough for Kaiden to have his hands leave his shoulders, going to the bay door, laying on his stomach just short of the drop. They were approaching the first drop point: in the colony itself.
"Outbound personnel stand up!" Kaiden had peered over the bay of the doors, the red sky of Eden Prime burning through their vision as below: hints of a battle, burning machinery and battlefields. "Load!"
Emerson had led his men into the back of the Mako as Shepard's fireteam had taken a knee to the sides of the bay. All but Mai however. She alone had the strength, the weight, to not feel the shift of the Normandy and fear falling out the back.
The magnetized boots also helped.
The turret of the Mako swiveled as men came in, wheels on their axis turning left or right. JD, deftly, remembered several experimental drops where vehicles were often included. They didn't much survive in one piece, which had made him wonder how he as flesh and blood had been able to. One of those things he hadn't spent much time dwelling on.
"Ten seconds to drop point one!" Joker's voice rang on the comms.
Ten seconds felt like a year and, distantly, JD remembered his first drop. He remembered the signaling beeps of the drop pods ready to be let loose from their dock and hurtling down toward the ground. At the height the Normandy was skirting, it was hardly a drop, but to the Alliance Marines, it was new.
The lights near the bay door went green, and the Mako roared to life, dropping out of the ship and down toward the ground, disappearing from view as comms went alight moments later. The bated breath between drop, dropping, and hitting the ground was familiar to some, but no less tense. "Hitman 2 section has hit ground. Assuming radio black out until advised. Hitman 2 out."
Shepard held her ear piece. "Copy all." She turned over to the rest of her men. "Get ready!"
They had all replaced the first fireteam to go out, standing in line, all behind Shepard.
Anderson had peered himself over the lip at the planet below. He had missed his time, leading troops on the front on away missions, but times had changed. He hadn't been the one being vetted for Spectre training anymore. He turned back around to the group. "Your team's the muscle in this operation, Commander!" She tipped her head at him, acknowledging. "Go in heavy and straight at the dig site!"
"Approaching drop point two!"
Nihlus's stop. He had his shotgun out. "I'll keep in contact. Remember the objective Shepard." It was a warning and dare all in one, and before Shepard could respond, he dropped out the moment the Normandy had tried to hover.
She pressed on her helmet in response.
"Nihlus will scout out ahead. He'll feed you his status, but any other communique with any of the Normandy's ground team will be off limits. You copy?" Anderson had spoke for the Turian now: for the objective.
"Hooah." Shepard could only meekly respond.
Mai was basically vibrating along with Jenkins. For different reasons of course. She was not used to this kind of unknown. She didn't even know her objectives. To ask was to demean her. She was too used to just knowing to ask.
He did. "What's our objective Shepard?"
The entire fireteam turned to JD, and then to Shepard. "Highly sensitive material collection. A beacon of sorts. We secure that, and then we can assist the colony."
"Approaching drop point three!"
"Is that the Turian's tasking too?" Mai spoke out of wanting to know what an alien was doing.
"We've got his back, Chief Gul." She declared to answer.
New. New. This was all new. Helping aliens.
"On your go!" Joker had yelled over the comms, the Normandy going into a hover.
"The mission's yours now, Commander! Good luck!"
Shepard nodded fiercely before pointing back to JD, a smirk in her face. "You're the shock trooper JD. On point."
Activating guns wasn't exactly something he was used to, but JD did as he shouldered his SMG, running up to the lip of the bay.
It was a hell of a drop. At least a building tall. Several stories between him and the start of a new mission, a new war. He had long gotten over cold feet, but this, now, he had to reflect as he looked down.
He could count the amount of times he had been deployed on a Pelican, or any drop ship at all, by hand. If it hadn't been his drop pod, it had been fast rappelling from Hornets or Falcons. Though how ironic now, in the service of a different humanity, he felt like he was doing the same thing.
Mai saw JD, on the lip of the bay looking down. He needed not to lose a game of rock-paper-scissors to be prompted to go forward: this was how he was trained. Feet first into Hell, and in no other way.
Just like the ODSTs from campaigns past, in another world, in another time, onboard the Spirit of Fire during its campaign to retake that planet in another universe, Master Chief Petty Officer Jonathon-Jameson Durante followed in their footsteps and dropped with his own two feet onto the dirt of Harvest.
The familiar shock that went through his legs. It would've crumpled lesser men, but he had been long used to it as he coiled like a spring and then sprung out.
JD snapped around as he hit ground, SMG up and scanning his sector behind him immediately, laying onto his stomach.
He didn't need to turn to feel Mai hit ground, following him promptly, metal and flesh adding up to one ton creating a miniature earthquake that came and went as she went to JD's left, covering down that range with her rifle. The beat of battle in the background, a red sky, a colony in the distance: smoking left behinds of an enemy advance. There was no need to be ready on his gun outside of formality, and, in any sense, he wouldn't have been able to.
This was his history he stood on.
He felt one tap against his shoulder. It was Mai, telling him to buck up. He couldn't however. Not as he stared out and, even after having survived glassings himself, worlds killed beneath the Covenant, only now did he realize all that was lost.
This is what Harvest looked like. Before the Covenant. Before the war. Looking out one-way fields and fields of agrarian ideals meant to represent what humanity could do out amongst the stars. This planet was a promise to keep, and if war would come to it, two who had seen this planet lost once before would not have that happen again.
An AI, in another history, another world, on the brink of her rampancy acting as the guardian of her beloved, lost in space, would wonder this question then: One that Mai and JD felt as they accepted their situation and what was called of them again to do.
She wondered why humans would be called, and continue to fight. She wondered if warriors would ever disappear from that world.
Three pairs of feet had followed in after of them in the jump. The pair didn't turn. Not as JD knocked himself out of his reverie and get with the mission, finding his sector to cover.
They didn't take the fall as well as them, but Shepard and the other Marines took it well enough, readying their weapons, securing the DZ.
"We clear?!" Kaiden yelled out, the draft kicked up by the Normandy flying away, disappearing into the clouds, making him yell.
JD shot his thumbs up as Mai simply stayed silent, the rest affirming.
"Ship perimeter secure, Commander!" He reported now, Shepard approaching that perimeter, taking a knee by Mai. She was used to, in her life, knowing who she was fighting. Terrorists. Insurgents. Covenant.
Now it was different. She was so used to fighting her own monsters for so long, she had forgotten that more were out there. She forgot she had become one herself. A hand touched upon her and she shook herself out of a trance, looking at an empty patch of foliage.
Shepard tapped onto Mai's shoulder. She was taking point, and they followed.
If Cortana would've seen them all then, it would've already confirmed something she had long known: Never. Warriors would always exist, and warriors will always be.