Chapter 117. Happy Unification Day


4. May 2417 AD, Cronos Station

"Even if this works … if the batarians find out… it'll be war," Chancellor Goyle said while Harper looked at her hologram. He'd just presented her with his proposed solution to disable the Alpha-Relay.

One of the larger, Eezo-rich asteroids of the Bahak-System had been outfitted with maneuvering thrusters from a time when the batarians had believed that they could move it into a stable orbit around Arathot to mine it. Before they ever gotten the chance to do it though, the Hegemony left the Citadel Council and access to some of the necessary parts for the fine-maneuver thrusters had been cut off. As such, the asteroid and the infrastructure build on its surface had been repurposed into a smuggler port from which the batarians could ferry in supplies that the Hegemony could not produce by itself.

After running the necessary simulations and reviewing a rather unfortunate mining accident that had occurred about a thousand years ago and destroyed a small secondary relay in quarian space, Cerberus had determined that if the asteroid were to be launched at the Alpha-Relay (a task taht didn't require fine-maneuver thrusters), it'd positively annihilate it ...and the rest of the Bahak-System.

"If," the Cerberus director stressed. "I understand the implications of what I'm asking you to sign off on and I promise you that this is not a proposal that I make lightly… but this is our only option, Madam Chancellor."

"We could always approach the Hegemony, have them evacuate the Bahak System beforehand."

"The Hegemony no longer exists, Ma'am. Chairman Amon and everyone else who holds something akin to power over the batarian people has been indoctrinated. The batarians have already fallen to the Reapers, they just don't know it yet."

"Says you."

"And all the intel gathered by Task Force Aurora," he added.

Goyle placed a hand in front of her mouth.

"How many people live in the Bahak-System?"

"Roughly three hundred thousand batarians. Plus a fluctuating population of smugglers, pirates, slavers and all other kinds of unpleasant company we usually wouldn't think twice about when disposing of," Harper listed before dipping his cigarette into the ashtray of his chair. "I understand that this operation will produce staggering casualties. But the loss of life iit will entail is miniscule compared to the number of people who'll die in the first hour that the Reapers hit the first major Fringe world."

"The colonists are batarians. But most of them are still innocent people, Director."

"I also understand that," he took another drag from his cigarette. "If there was any other option, believe me, I'd take it."

"And you're absolutely certain that the soldiers you'll send to do this will have the stomach to kill an entire planetary system?"

"If you're worried about their morals standing in the way of the mission, then they don't have to be aware of the full consequences of their actions."

"I'd hope that the people you send to stop a Reaper invasion are intelligent enough to understand what happens when you destroy a mass relay."

"Fair point," Harper nodded. "Captain Haugen's name has crossed your desk before. He was one of the possible candidates named to follow Anderson's footsteps. Given his service record and his relation to the batarian people, I doubt he'll hesitate to sacrifice a couple hundred thousand batarians to protect the rest of the galaxy," he went on. "And if he does, I know that my operative won't. I personally vouch for her," Miranda had proven her loyalty to Cerberus' cause, albeit in a badly timed fashion.

"If this fails, it'll be your head and mine, you understand that, Director, don't you?"

"With all due respect, Ma'am. If this fails, us losing our heads will be the least of our problems," Harper responded before pulling a drag from his cigarette. "Do we have your permission?" he hoped Goyle would say yes… but truth be told, if she didn't, he'd still tell Miranda that she had and face the logical consequence – a dishonorable discharge from Cerberus and a subsequent trial in front of the Council's Supreme Court weren't exactly how he'd planned to end his career but if humanity needed him to take this bullet, he would. This needed to happen. There was no way around it.

… besides, even if he got locked up, he was fairly certain he'd be pardoned the moment the Reapers descended on the first Council colony.

"Yes. Make the necessary preparations," Goyle's lips trembled ever so slightly when she gave the go-ahead and Harper was glad for it. He'd be much more worried if she had no hesitation about extinguishing three hundred thousand lives in the blink of an eye. Her reluctance was the reason why she should be the one making this sort of decision.

… still, he'd much rather prefer to have Francis Noé be his superior right now.

With what was about to come down on them, they might just need someone like him again, even if he'd be the first to admit that Noé and him had both pushed each other to make some questionable decisions over the years. That was the downside of seeing eye to eye on most things, no moderating presences.

"Understood," he nodded.

"And Harper?"

"Yes?"

"Don't overwork yourself. You're no use to anyone if you get a stroke. Oh. And happy Unification Day." Goyle offered with a smile after looking at something out of the view from the hologram projector.

Harper, who'd clearly lost track of time again, looked at the holographic clock showing the arrival countdown and then at the one displaying the actual station time.

When he read '5. May 2417 AD, 00:00', he nodded.

"To you too," he said before Goyle's hologram vanished.

As soon as the line to the chancellor was cut, the grey-haired man grabbed the glass of bourbon resting on his chair and took a long sip from it in celebration of the HSA's 266th anniversary.

"May it not be the last," he muttered to himself before washing the flavor down with another drag of his cigarette and pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to get rid of the faint but annoying headache he'd been having for the entire day…

Staring at holographic screens all day with little sleep really had been easier when he'd still been a young man. He exhaled a cloud of smoke, watched it dance in Anadius' red-blue light for a second and then extinguished the cigarette before heading off to bed.

Goyle was right.

He was of no use to anyone if the stress killed him before the Reapers got their chance.


Three Hours Later, 5. May 2417 AD, Mirage of Halegeuse

"Oh, and I got the final offer from the tree-removal guy. If we want the blue-oak set down elsewhere, it's gonna be two thousand," his wife finished after Haugen had asked her if he'd missed anything of importance on the home front.

Since they were about to head into what might be a suicide mission, the salarian captain of the Mirage had decided to fly them closer to Council territory again so that everyone could clean up their affairs in case the 'ridiculous human plan ends up in predictable failure and entire vessel alongside crew is violently depressurized by batarian navy'.

Even if he'd been a dick about his motivations, Haugen and Phantom had appreciated the gesture. It had given them a chance to call home – on Unification Day no less – and as such, the spec-ops team had each grabbed a communication terminal and went off to some place quiet to call home to family and friends, on-and-off-relations (exclusively Miller) and in Mav's case, his dog.

"Two thousand sounds like a rip-off," Haugen observed while looking at Sam through the communicator. She was tens of thousands of light-years away and today it actually felt like that put some distance between them.

"Tell you what, I'll do it myself when I get back."

"Tore, if you take it down and try to set it back in the ground somewhere else, we'll probably need to invest in a new garage. You remember your last timbering attempt? New fence ring any bells?"

The blonde officer rubbed his neck at the memory of his fence – the pride of his limited handiwork – being crushed by another blue-oak…

"Fair enough. New plan. I'll rope the guys into it. Between the four of us, someone's gonna be able to do it properly," he offered. "Besides. Since we're sort of missing this year's Unification Day dinner, we'll need to catch up next year," he went on before suddenly remembering what they were about to do and why… If the intel was accurate, there wouldn't be any Unification Day celebrations on Terra Nova next year either. There'd probably be fighting in the streets of Scott this time next year, or if they failed no Scott at all…

"Everything alright, Tore?" Sam asked. Clearly his sudden realization had shown on his face.

"You thought about what I suggested?" he asked next, knowing he was playing with OPSEC fire.

"About moving to your uncle's?" he'd thrown the idea in the room during one of their last calls when it had become evident that they weren't making the progress he was hoping for and he'd realized that while Terra Nova was as safe of a place as his wife could be… the Terra Novan wilderness was probably a whole lot safer than the suburbs of a metropolis like Scott.

"Yes," the ASOC captain offered.

"I've thought about it, yes. But you never told me what you're so worried about," Sam retorted before brushing aside a strand of her blonde hair. "Which I get. You can't talk about it…" she added after a moment. "It's just… I've never seen you like this."

Because he'd never faced something like the Reapers…

"I'd feel a lot better knowing you'd be safe," he stressed, reinforcing his earlier argument.

"What happened to the one billion angry Terra Novans? You no longer trust them to do the job?"

"Safer, then."

Sam sighed.

"Listen. I get it. You're worried for a good reason," she stated. "It'd just be nice to know what you want me to be safe from. Leaving the house and our friends and work because of something you can't tell me anything about is asking a lot, Tore."

"I-"

"I know."

"Look, you wouldn't be leaving all your friends…" Tore knew for a fact that Hofmann was attempting to convince his much larger family of doing the exact same thing and he also had a feeling that Mav and Miller were telling their relatives the same things right now… After all, you'd have to be one hell of a cold-hearted and lonely bastard to know what they knew and not warn the people you cared about… "Besides, it'll not be forever," he added. "Think of it as a vacation from city-life," he went on. "And I'll be joining you as soon as I can."

"Tore… please. I know you're asking me to do this precisely because you won't be joining me for a pretty long time when whatever has you scared enough to ask me to do this in the first place ends up happening. You'll be out there, trying to stop… whatever this is," Sam responded, her voice cracking – either because of the quality of the comms or emotions. She always could read him like a book… Haugen grimaced and shamefully broke eye-contact for just a second. She noticed. "Tell you what. I'll call your uncle tomorrow. I've been meaning to visit him for some time now. He'll be happy for the company."

"Thank you."

"I don't need you to worry about me too, Tore. I need you focused on coming back home. From wherever you are right now," she noted, clearly looking at the backdrop. He'd taken up residence in one of the emptied-out barrack rooms that the Recon unit had occupied.

"I will," he said before glancing at the timer running below. They'd been talking for nearly two hours now, which meant that the window that the Mirage's captain had given them was closing. "Sam… I don't want to but…"

"You gotta go."

"Yes. The window's closing," he nodded. "I love you."

"I love you too. Stay safe."

"Always."

Then, as usual, his wife hung up first. It was something they'd agreed on years ago, mostly because he could talk for literal hours when deployed and never stop unless he forced himself to. When the line closed, he shut off the terminal and audibly sighed.

Maybe he should've taken that teaching position after all or just retired when he'd had the chance.

That way, he could at least be there for his family when this all blew up instead of relying on his somewhat… odd… uncle.

Then again, knowing himself (and HSA reservist guidelines), he would've been back in uniform the second the Reapers rolled up on the galaxy…

So odd uncle it was…

Calling him odd was a nicety on Haugen's part, by the way.

Lars and he had never gotten along particularly well, mostly because his uncle could've just as easily been a domestic terrorist if Terra Nova's Wildlife and Forestry Services weren't employing him as a gamekeeper for the Northern Territories.

…and there was also the small fact that he'd sent him off to military school the first chance he'd gotten after being named Tore's legal guardian in the wake of his parents early death…

'It's for your own good boy. Your parents ain't around to teach you how to be a man no more and I ain't screwing that up, so you gotta learn for yourself. Zhang stopped me from being an idiot, maybe Anaru will do the same for you'.

Things between them had gotten better again, after Anaru Academy 'had made him a man' and he'd proven his adequate worth by becoming one of some five thousand active ASOC operatives, but if he was being honest, Haugen didn't have much sympathy left for Lars Haugen…

The guy lived isolated away from society in a prefab complex hidden by Terra Nova's northern forests and Haugen was pretty sure he only worked for the government so that he could own plenty of long guns, thermal- and NV sights and an ammunition stockpile large enough for an infantry company without anyone asking too many questions.

But all theories about his motivations set aside, Haugen would be a moron not to admit that out of everyone he knew, 'Uncle Lars' was the best person to help get his wife through a world-ending invasion of Terra Nova. He not only lived far away from just about any target worth hitting during an invasion but also happened to know the rough terrain of Terra Nova's north well enough to hide out and survive for years if he had to. Hell. He might just evade the entire invasion to begin with since Haugen was pretty sure he intentionally kept breaking all the 'emergency trackers' the TNWFS was sending him in case he got hurt hiking or hunting in rough terrain…

After folding up the terminal and leaving a room whose occupants had all died just recently, Haugen walked down the corridors of the Mirage up until reaching the common room, where he found none other than Lawson. The Cerberus operative seemed to be focused exclusively on work and judging by the various terminals set up around her and the half-empty cup of coffee, Haugen got the distinctive impression that she hadn't used the salarians' gracious offer to call home again. She clearly hadn't noticed him yet, so Haugen briefly considered not saying anything and just walking away to avoid any possible conflict with the person who'd threatened to shoot him in the back a week ago… but then Lawson glanced sidewards.

"Hello Captain", she greeted briefly before returning her focus on the terminal in front of her. "You weren't looking for me, were you?" she added somewhat distracted.

"No, no, I was just getting back from calling home," he explained, still standing in the doorframe. "Checking in for Unification Day, you know?" he added.

"Ah… that's today, isn't it?" Lawson asked, somewhat unsure.

"Yes?" Haugen retorted, perplexed how someone could miss out on the most important human holiday…

"Happy Unification Day, then," Lawson replied, not taking her eyes of the terminals.

"To you too," he retorted before asking the question he really didn't want to ask. "You didn't call home, did you?"

"No one to call home," the dark-haired woman commented off-mindedly before blinking and looking at him. "That sounded far more depressing than I meant to," she noted before looking at the way he was leaning against the doorframe. "Please don't feel obliged to make conversation just because of what I said. I already sent Sergeant Undrak away earlier."

… the batarian knew about Unification Day?

"Mhm," Haugen nodded before pushing himself off the wall and deciding that with their new job being stopping the invasion of the Reapers, leaving things based on his and Lawson's last exchange was probably not an option.

While he knew himself well enough to know that nothing Lawson could do would stop him from working alongside her for the sake of the mission, he wasn't ready to risk their success on the hope that Lawson was professional enough to do that too. Hence, he walked into the room and sat down opposite to the Cerberus operative, setting his borrowed terminal down to his left.

"Didn't I just say that you don't need to feel obliged to make conversation because you think it's depressing that I don't have anyone to call home to on Unification Day?"

"You did. And for the record, I don't find it depressing. I find it very fitting for someone like you," he started. "Listen. If we're gonna stop the end of the world, we need to clear the air for good," he started, mentally noting that they weren't stopping the end of the world but only slightly post-poning it. "When we last talked, I basically told you to pack your shit and leave because you're shit at the job you're trying to do and truth be told, if nothing had changed since then, I'd still be all-in on that idea," he went on. "But we're now in a position where we don't have the luxury of choosing who we fight with anymore, especially not when they're decently powerful biotics. We have to take what we get and if what Phantom gets is you, then we'll have to make it work," Haugen said before folding his hands.

"Flattering," Lawson observed, briefly interrupting him.

"I won't lie to you. My team hates you and I don't have any sympathies for you either. Sort of comes with the territory of putting a gun to my back," he explained, watching for any reaction on Lawson's part. There was none. "But despite everything that's happened, we're gonna need to rely on each other when we hit the Viper Nebula. Otherwise the entire galaxy is screwed," he stated plainly. "So I need to hear it from you right now. No matter what happens in the Bahak System, you follow my lead. No hidden Cerberus agendas, no last minute powerplays, no discussions about mission objectives and no more freaking betrayals to enforce any of the above," he listed.

"So you're essentially asking me to submit," the Cerberus operative commented, stopping her work.

"I am asking you to be sensible," Haugen responded. "Whatever differences we had before and whatever you may think about me can't follow you into the Nebula. If it does-"

"The galaxy is screwed. Yes. I get the concept," Lawson nodded. "I'm not sure if I should take it as an insult that you clearly consider me unprofessional enough to even feel the need to have this conversation," the raven-haired woman stated before mirroring his posture and folding her hands. "If you're trying to be diplomatic right now you're not exactly doing a splendid job."

Haugen narrowed his eyes. "You shouldn't take this as anything and the fact I need to clarify it should sort of tell you why I need to address this before we start the op," he explained. "My lead. No agendas, no powerplays and no discussions."

"What happened to betrayals?"

"I only added that out of politeness. Phantom is going to take your head clean of your shoulders if you pull something like that again. They already regret not doing it on the Messina as it is."

Lawson suddenly let her stoic features dropped. She pinched her nose and sighed. Haugen wasn't sure if it was an act again or genuine. The whole fake-out with Blue Solstice had reminded him that he couldn't read the woman half as well as he thought he could…

"I guess I deserve that," the Cerberus operative admitted. "Your lead, no agendas, no powerplays, no discussions and no taking heads of shoulders. I promise."

Haugen nodded. It sounded genuine enough. "Good," he said before grabbing his terminal, his intention now to meet up with the rest of Phantom and at least somewhat celebrate Unification Day… even if all they had was a bland barracks room, whatever passed as salarian beer and that weird insect-based protein paste that salarians called 'meat'. It tasted tolerable with the funky-looking green sauce and Haugen would be damned if he asked what that shit was made of and ruined it for himself when the answer was inevitably something like 'grinded-down larva paste'.

He got about three steps away from the desk before Lawson spoke up again.

"Can I ask you a question, Captain?" the woman said, sounding just the tiniest bit unsure.

Since he didn't want to burn the small start of a bridge he felt like he had just built, he turned around again and nodded.

"How do you bloody do it?" the Cerberus operative asked cautiously before offering a surprisingly warm smile.

"What exactly?"

"This. All of this," she elaborated before raising her hands as if to point at the whole of the Mirage and the operation it was supporting. "Where do you find the strength to just keep going no matter what the universe throws at you? And how do you just … keep believing that you're going to win when everything factual suggests that it's impossible? And most of all… how do you make everyone around you believe the same? Take it from an outside observer. The people around you, they'll follow you into hellfire with a smile and no second thoughts and while I've been breaking my head to figure it out, I've had no idea why…" the operative said before getting up and turning her back to him. "I pulled your file when I heard I was going to work with you, but despite having read everything there is to read about you, I still don't feel like I understand you," Lawson sighed, making it seem like he was the most complicated person past the Arcturus Stream. "Ever since what happened on the Messina, I've been asking myself what makes you … you. And I can't come up with an answer," she said before resting her hands on her hips. "I don't know if I mentioned it… but my father got me the best genes and the best education that money could buy. I was literally made to be perfect. Everything about me is designed to help me succeed…" he'd heard something like that… "But even with all the money and science in the world, I still don't have that fire you have. So why oh why are you so goddamn special when everything about you is so plainly ordinary?" she mumbled before quickly turning her head. "I mean that as a compliment, by the way, not an insult," she explained, nearly falling over her words. Meanwhile, Haugen was still trying to process that Lawson seemed to actually be asking him for advice and admitting to personal shortcomings… "Director Harper says that it's just the cloth you're cut from, that the fire you've got is just something that you born with. That it's who you are… but I think there's more to it. There has to be. So if we all die next week, I at least want to hear it from you personally. How do you do it? What's your bloody secret?"

Haugen looked at the woman for a moment and then unceremoniously shrugged.

He'd never really thought about it to be honest, at least not beyond the obvious answers like 'to protect those I care about' or 'it's my duty and I was raised for it' and 'if I don't do it, who will?'.

"I know it'll be an unsatisfactory answer but… I don't know. Not really at least. It's not something I've given much thought to," Haugen admitted. "So I guess I just… do it," he started before rubbing his neck and looking at Lawson, who – as expected – was clearly unsatisfied.

Okay, attempt two.

"So you read my file, right?"

"Right."

"So you know I was practically raised in a military school…?"

"There was some mention of an uncle working for Terra Nova's Wildlife and Forestry Department…"

"He's… not in the picture anymore," Haugen replied quickly – and untruthfully.

"I see..."

"Anyway. Back at Anaru one of the first things they teach you is that there's no point in stopping once you've started," he remembered. "Soldier on and make the pain mean something, they used to say when they made us run laps across the compound," he quoted. "I was good at using that mindset to get me through shit… but I didn't really get it until I got my first real taste of war during the Blitz, I think," the blonde man went on with a sigh.

"The shit I've seen … most of it's felt meaningless, to be honest. Like it could've just not happened and it wouldn't have made that much of a difference in the long run," he admitted before leaning against the wall. "The second time the batarians hit Mindoir was when it really clicked for me, though. When you're crawling through the ruins of a place you visited just last week to drop some incendiary bombs on a bunch of batarian fuckers and you're moving past the bodies of colonists mauled by varren who just wanted to go about with their lives and see soldiers who you remember meeting in the gym a couple of days before get torn apart by krogan mercs running around with half their brain exposed and somehow still not fucking dying … you start asking yourself a lot of uncomfortable questions," he swallowed. "War's not the time and place where you can afford to ask yourself if the world you live in makes sense. At least not if you've got something you wanna get back to," Haugen reasoned. "What you need to know is that I never could accept that things happen for no reason. The idea that millions of people just die because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time… that never sat right with me, even if I knew that it was ultimately true…" he exhaled a long breath and remembered the sight of a hundred small HSA paper flags and various other Unification Day decorations collecting the blood of people way too young to have died. In a cruel twist of fate, the Blitz had happened right around the time for that years Unification Day.

"Shit got real bad when we hit the cities in Zhao County. I remember passing an evacuation bus. Full to the brim with schoolkids with bitemarks all over their bodies... after we left that thing behind, I knew I had to come up with an answer on the spot. Otherwise I was gonna lose my head because I jumped the first batarian I could find instead of finishing the mission like I should've... So in the moment, I just went back to that Anaru saying. Soldier on and make the pain mean something. I decided than and there that all this death served some higher purpose, that it'd eventually lead us somewhere were shit like that no longer happened," he said, closing his eyes and suppressing the memory. He'd luckily always been good at not bringing baggage back with him…

Looking back, it was really no surprise that Miller, who had been with him back then for every step of the blood-soaked way, had dealt with all of this by just deciding that all batarians were unsalvageable monsters not worth the prize of the bullets used to end their lives…

He shook his head and realized that he hadn't actually answered Lawson's question yet.

"Sorry. Rambling," he noted. "The point is, nothing makes me special, Miranda. There's no special cloth I'm cut from or secret trick I figured out that makes me what you think I am," he said, using her first name for the first time, "I just managed to teach myself a pretty useful lesson before the world caught up to me and taught it to me in an even worse way."

"And what lesson is that?"

"That the only thing that's gonna keep you going when you're dragging yourself through the mud and blood of a battlefield is yourself. When everything sane inside of you screams at you to stop and every fiber of your body wants to agree with it… your will to see it through is the only thing that can keep you going. And the only way your will is going to be louder than logic is if you manage to convince yourself that it'll all mean something by the end, that all the death, all the destruction wasn't entirely pointless," he sighed. "The lesson I learned is that only way you can stay sane in the world we live in in the long run and still do your job like its expected from you is if you force the world to make sense… anything less and you're screwed."

"That might explain where you take your strength from…" Miranda replied and Haugen got a feeling that she really was desperate for an answer he couldn't quite give. "But how do you manage to make others follow your lead into impossible situations?" she pressed.

"By showing them that there's a point in fighting, even if it looks like you're going to lose," he replied.

"But how do you make it seem so effortless?" Miranda inquired.

"Do you really think I don't have any doubts about this? That I'm somehow immune to how absolutely frightening this whole Reaper shit is?"

"It certainly seems like you don't."

"Well… I do," Haugen admitted. "But I also know that not doing anything will not improve our situation whatsoever. And before I just lay down and accept that we're all gonna get smoked by some synthetic douchebag with a programmed-in god-complex, I'd rather go down shooting, stabbing and swinging," he argued. "Biting too, if necessary… although I don't think that'll do much good other than breaking my teeth," he added after a moment of consideration, to which the Cerberus operative showed a small smile. "I know none of that answered your question. I don't know why I have that 'fire'," he quoted her. "Or what 'cloth' I'm cut from," he went on. "But this is all I've got, and I hope it helps."

"I don't know about that yet. But it was certainly insightful," Lawson responded. "Enjoy the rest of your Unification Day, Captain Haugen," back to formality then.

"You too, Miss Lawson."


08:09 Ship-Time, 5. May 2417 AD, HSASV Normandy

"Happy Unification Day, Commander!"

"To you too," Shepard replied, for what felt like the hundredth time of the day (even if the Normandy didn't have that many crew members).

She'd been on her way to the med-bay for the last forty minutes to talk to Chakwas. The doctor wanted to check up on her since it had been nearly two months since she'd woken up from Lazarus and according to Cerberus, there should be check-ups every two months during the first year. She'd originally meant to be there half an hour ago, but after pushing the conversation with her mother deeper into the afternoon (she definitely wasn't avoiding speaking to her mother ever since dying), she'd had to stop every couple of meters because one or more crew members needed something from her or just wanted to wish her a pleasant national holiday.

But here she was, finally at the gates of the medical bay-

"Commander Shepard. Happy Unification Day. A moment please?" a voice asked from the side. Before she turned around, she already knew it was First Lieutenant Nagato. The formal tone alone gave it away.

"To you too, First Lieutenant. But just a moment, please. I have an appointment with Doctor Chakwas and I'm already running seriously late," she informed the taller man, who nodded immediately and probably made a mental note about her being unpunctual and how it violated the tenets of the HSA Officer Corps.

"As you know, the installation of the Reaper IFF requires us to do some unconventional rewiring on the spot," so she'd been told by EDI and Mordin. "During these reconfigurations, the quarian you brought aboard discovered something that I think might warrant your attention," Tali had offered her help with the installation and since Shepard was glad for every non-Cerberus hand on the task, she'd taken the offer, "I looked over it before to rule out that Miss Zorah misinterpreted something, just to avoid wasting your time," Nagato went on. "She didn't though and the issue really is a pressing concern. One affecting the security of this ship…"

Shepard looked to her left and right, having a clear topic in mind.

"Is this something so concerning that we should talk about it in private?" she whispered.

Nagato, clearly confused, shook his head… "I mean sure. We can, if that's what you want. But it doesn't concern anything beyond a level of classification the entire crew doesn't have…" the officer responded before bringing up his omni-tool. "It's about our IFF."

Shepard nodded, feeling both relieved and paranoid at the same time. "What did Tali find?"

"That by installing the Reaper IFF, Cerberus unintentionally managed to compromise our entire Friend-Foe-Identification System. It seems like they got some fairly obvious wires crossed. They accidentally merged our current IFF with the Reaper one and unless we exchange several of its critical components and do the task over again, we can no longer turn the thing off…"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but an IFF doesn't sound like something we'd want to turn off to begin with. Seems like it'd invite friendly fire," Shepard muttered. "Besides, we are sort of on a schedule now, so any repairs that don't have to be made…" she trailed off.

Nagato was clearly perplexed by the lack of knowledge she'd just displayed.

"Commander, with all due respect. We're a stealth ship outfitted for covert deployments. Unless we're about to engage in a space battle with friendly forces, which ideally, we'll never do, we are permanently flying with our IFF turned off," he explained. "If we kept the IFF turned on all the time, we might as well start firing our GARDIAN lasers into every direction so the enemy can locate our heat signature even easier," the Asian man stated before turning his omni-tool off. "Besides, I checked with EDI. Cerberus can't actually finish the installation of the Reaper IFF until we've got a functioning Friend-Foe-Identification system again. So I'm afraid this is a repair we'll have to make."

"That seems like a pretty big accident," Shepard noted.

"That's what I told the engineers installing the damn thing too. The level of incompetence necessary for something like this to happen borders on intentional," Nagato frowned, breaking his serious façade for a second and reminding Shepard of another, much more serious mole-problem still remaining unsolved. "We've got another problem though. The parts we need to fix their screw-up are exclusively turian and therefor aren't readily available in human space outside of Eden Prime. So unless we want to backtrack to Cronos or Eden or fly all the way to Aephus… we'll need to take a quick detour to the Citadel. I know, it doesn't fit our schedule, but like I said, we have to make these repairs if we want to remain combat-effective or transit the Omega-Four Relay at all," Nagato finished. "With your permission I'll let Joker know and put in the order for the replacement parts," he added, not leaving her much of a choice.

"I'm sorry but did I just understand you correctly? We don't have replacement parts for the turian half of the SR-2 readily available?"

"No. While the Parnack-Class is a logistical nightmare, I'm glad to report that our situation isn't that dire. We do have replacement parts for the elements that are obvious to get damaged," Nagato explained, casually hinting at a dislike for the ship Shepard didn't think he'd have. "The IFF wasn't among them until someone tried to jam Reaper tech inside, though," he went on. "I still don't get how they could screw up something so obvious…" Nagato murmured.

"Maybe they just got nervous working with Reaper tech?" Shepard offered.

"If they get nervous doing basic upgrades, they've got no business fixing a damned warship," the First Lieutenant responded harshly, "Ma'am," he added respectfully.

"Naturally," Shepard agreed. "Alright. Let Joker know where we're going and put in the necessary requisition orders. A quick trip to the Citadel might be a good chance for some last-minute R and R anyway," she added.

"Right away, Ma'am," Nagato replied before offering a sharp salute, leaving her to finally enter Chakwas' office. When the doors pulled open, the older woman turned in her chair and got up.

"Ah. And she finally graces us with her presence," Chakwas began, offering no salute since the HSA had clearly defined rules for the relationship between a military physician and their patient during a medical visit.

"Morning Doctor," Shepard greeted. "I'm sorry for being late. I got held up with –"

"Happy Unification Days?" the doctor guessed.

"Yes. Among others," the younger, red-haired marine replied.

"National holidays are always busy days in the navy," Chakwas mused.

"Speaking of. Happy Unification Day, Doctor."

"And to you too," Chakwas offered before pointing at one of the examining beds. "Since you already know why you're here and probably don't like it, I'll try to be quick. Just lay down and we can get started with this formality."

"Sure thing," she said before obliging and laying down on the white bed and watching the orange scanner threads go over her.

"So, how have you been feeling lately, Commander?" Chakwas asked, sounding somewhat distracted, while the scanners moved over her.

"Fine," Shepard responded before looking where the scanner was. Her heart. "I don't have a reason not to feel fine, right?" she added, somewhat nervously. Doctors asking how you were feeling while examining your vital organs was always a bad sign...

"None that I'd see on here," the doctor responded with a smile while holding up a tablet. "But I'm not just talking about the physical aspect, Commander," Chakwas went on. "How have you been feeling? Mentally, I mean."

Shepard looked up from her prone position to see that the doctor was already looking at her terminal again.

"Stay still, please," Chakwas added, like she had eyes in the back of her head… or a scanner telling her when Shepard moved.

"Right. Sorry."

"And answer my question. How have you been feeling with everything that's been going on?"

"Fine, I guess," the N7 responded.

"Mhm. I don't believe you," Chakwas said not a moment later before hitting a button to seal the med-bay and activating the privacy mode, which dimmed the windows to the outside world.

"Sorry?"

"You're about to lead us into a suicide mission not two months after coming back from a two-year near-death experience, Shepard. N7 bravado and what you think we expect of you set aside, you are not feeling fine," the older woman said before shutting the scanners off. "Do you remember what we talked about after Virmire when I found you sitting all by your lonesome in the dark mess hall of the SR-1? When were you trying to load the entire responsibility of the battle's casualties on your back?"

Shepard thought back to the moment. From her perspective, it hadn't been more than a couple of months since the conversation, hence it was still somewhat fresh in her memory.

"You told me that I'll break my back if I keep on trying to carry the weight of the world by myself," she recalled.

"Exactly," Chakwas said before folding her legs, turning in her chair and putting both her hands on top of her kneecaps. "Do you mind telling me what it was about that advice that you didn't understand? Because I'd gladly explain it to you again."

Since the scanner threads were gone, Shepard figured she'd be good sitting up without drawing Chakwas' wrath. When she did, the doctor continued. "I've been watching you, Shepard, you know? Beyond the scale of the medical and psychological evaluations that the navy requires me to make on all crew members. I know you're stressed. By the mission and the problems of the people around you, yes, but also by your own condition and that godforsaken, Reaper-shaped Damocles sword hanging over your head every minute of every day," the woman explained, the true reason she wanted to talk to her this close to the Omega-Four jump becoming obvious to Emily. "Remember what I told you. You are not alone with these responsibilities. Everyone is willing to help you if you just let us in. So please. Talk to me, Shepard."

… the marine sighed.

The Doctor was right.

There was just no way around that fact.

Similarly, there was no way around finally confronting what had happened.

"It's… just a lot to take in. Everything that's happened… it feels unreal, like I'm living in some kind of hyper-realistic dream," Shepard admitted. "One moment I'm on the SR-1 and we've just defeated Saren… and next thing I know, I wake up in a different world altogether where nothing that we did seems to have made a difference," she began, her right hand subconsciously grabbing the cloth of her uniform trousers. "What really gets to me is that I don't remember anything from the time I was in a near-death coma. It honestly makes me think that I completely died and that there's nothing there after you're gone…"

"Are you religious?" Chakwas injected while wheeling closer to her with her chair.

"… no, but it's still weird to know…" Shepard replied before going on. "And then there's also the fact that I also woke up to everyone I knew being completely different people," Emily said before looking at her hands and noticing the thin, orange lines glowing underneath her skin. "Garrus, Kai, Alenko, Joker, Liara, you, hell, even Wrex… all the people I used to know are different now. Like strangers…" and now to get to the really worrying part, "But most of all, I don't recognize myself anymore, really," she stated while flexing her hand and watching the lines move like tendons would've. "I don't really dream anymore, except for a few odd nights every couple of weeks. And the voice in my head when I think sounds different too… when I train or fight, I don't get exhausted like I used to… and even my favorite chocolate doesn't freaking taste like I remember it. I know it's a weird thing to get hung up on but…" she said before shrugging, "there's this expectation of how I remember it tasting and… it just doesn't match reality anymore," Shepard said. "Everything about me feels off, Doctor and if I'm being honest here, I've asked myself if I'm still me more than once since I woke up. I mean Cerberus made EDI… so what if I'm just another EDI thinking she's Emily Shepard? That sounds crazy, I know, but not a whole lot crazier than the HSA spending two years bringing me back from death," those had been her most private thoughts and now she was actually saying them out loud… "If it wasn't for the Collectors and the Reapers to keep me focused, I don't know how I'd manage to deal with that question," she finished, knowing full and well that under normal circumstances, she'd probably have just qualified for a psychological discharge. (If she wanted to get technical, being brought back from the dead was probably already a good enough reason to discharge someone from the military)

Luckily, Chakwas didn't seem to be taking any notes, so maybe her career was still salvageable…

"That felt good, didn't it?" the older woman said before offering a smile and briefly putting her hand on the one of Shepard that had been digging into her BDUs.

"Certainly felt like something," the younger marine replied before Chakwas wheeled back.

"I know it won't vastly improve your situation…" Chakwas started, "but from where I'm sitting, you are definitely still the same talented, selfless and heroic young marine that I've had the pleasure of serving with two years ago," the doctor offered. "I understand your doubts. But even with access to all the money in the alliance, the best doctors and the fanciest technology, Cerberus could never ever hope to create something that would come even close to being able to emulate you. You are one of a kind, Shepard, and not just because you're ready to face your demons out in the open the way you just did or stand up for everyone who may just need your help," she went on. "I can only speak for myself, but I suspect everyone who used to know you before agrees with me. Otherwise they wouldn't be here, ready to follow you on this mission we're about to embark on," Chakwas offered before chuckling. "Besides. If you really were a version of EDI programmed to think she was you… would you really be programmed to ask yourself those questions in the first place? Surely it'd be easier to just create you without those self-doubts, no?"

"I think that depends on how far Harper would be ready to take it with the whole 'lifelike' idea…"

"Director Harper might be a spy at heart, but I don't think he'd be disingenuous enough to lie to his allies about their own existence. I can see that it might be easy to forget between everything that Cerberus does… but they are still our allies, fighting for the same things we are," the grey-haired woman said before reaching for something in a drawer. "While we are on the subject of things I told you after Virmire… I do remember promising to you that we'd toast with a glass of Serrice Ice Brandy once you defeated Saren. I am ashamed to admit that I did not live up to that promise afterwards."

"Doc, you were on the Citadel operating on the injured," and she was attending funerals…

"True, but that is still no excuse to skimp on a promised drink!" the woman declared before producing a bottle filled with a dark-blue liquid and two glasses.

"Doctor-"

"And before you get any ideas and tell me what Captain Anderson told me when I offered to toast with him, namely that we'll 'save it for the victory celebrations', I will inform you that I will not accept such conditions. Waiting for the right time to drink only ever brought us bad luck before and since today is Unification Day," she began before pouring both glasses. "I think now's as good of a time as any to have that drink," Chakwas held one of the glasses out towards Shepard, who hesitantly took it.

"You know drinking on duty is against regulations, Doc," she pointed out somewhat reluctant to have her breath smell – she took a whiff of the drink - … surprisingly sweet and nonalcoholic this early in the morning.

"Not when it is medicinal," Chakwas countered charmfully before raising her glass. "Here's to our 266th Unification Day. May many more come," she declared celebratory.

… alright she wouldn't rain on the doctor's parade…

"To unification," Shepard responded before clinking her glass together with Chakwas' and taking the first sip of the brandy. (It tasted even better than it smelled – and that wasn't good.)

After Chakwas was done drinking, unlike Shepard she'd emptied the entire glass instead of just taking a sip, she turned to look at the commander with green eyes. "Shepard, I need you to promise me something," the doctor said.

"What is it?"

"Promise me that you will never forget what we talked about here today. I don't want you to fall into the same trap as so many other promising officers I've served under," the older woman said.

"What trap?" she asked uncertainly.

"Don't let the stone-cold and stoic Terra Novan academy culture that's flooding my beloved navy get to you. When something's eating away at you, you damn well have a right to talk to someone about it instead of falling back on some stupid, ridiculous, no-human-emotion allowed mindset like the one that those damn schools are trying to promote," the doctor stated. "Soldiering on is good and well and necessary, but only to a certain point. Afterwards it just becomes auto-destructive behavior. And believe me, over my decades in the navy, I've seen far too many good soldiers fall victim to the weight of their own responsibilities," Chakwas went on before glancing at a turned-off picture frame standing on her table. "I don't think I could bear seeing it happen to you too."

"… that sounds personal," Shepard observed while looking at the frame.

"He died during the attack on Ferris Fields, the one in '87. I was deployed off-world when it happened," she hadn't even been born back then and Chakwas had already been in the navy for ten years… that really put the difference in their experiences into relation "His name was Warrant Officer Fernando Santoz and we were oh so young and oh so in love," she explained before activating the frame. Upon activation, a handsome Hispanic man with short-cropped brown hair appeared. He looked like he was in his late twenties and he was standing proudly next to the snout of a Vulture gunship and had his arm thrown around a smaller, stocky guy with black hair and a nametag reading 'Trotsky'. Both were wearing dark-green flight suits and clearly standing on a military tarmac. The gunship was painted in the usual green-brown digital army camouflage and had its callsign, 'ONYX 4-1', written next to where an outsider could activate the emergency opening mechanism of the cockpit's canopy. "He wanted to save the whole world by himself, just like you," Chakwas explained. "Eclipse's anti-air gunners had other plans for him and poor Trotksy, though. They died before they ever hit the ground and I've been married to the navy ever since," the doctor finished before Shepard noticed the small black ring lying next to the picture frame.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Doctor."

"It's been more than half a lifetime, Shepard. There is nothing to be sorry about. Fernando died doing what he believed and with what's headed for us, that is truly all we can ask for," Chakwas said before refilling her glass.

She knew what to do next.

"To Fernando. And Trotsky," Shepard offered before raising her glass.

"And Captain Anderson and Gunnery Sergeant Williams and Jenkins and Pressley and all the other souls who've paid the ultimate prize in the line of duty," Chakwas finished before clinking the glasses together again. "May their sacrifice always live on in our memory."

… by the time they were done toasting, Shepard knew that there was one thing she could no longer delay, at least not in good conscience. After saying her farewell, she quickly made her way up to her quarters, opened her terminal and…

"Hello, Mom…"


Two Hours Later, 5. May 2417 AD, Cronos Station

"Talking to her is a stupid idea."

"It's necessary to make the lie all the more convincing."

"If he isn't in the Hardline by now, he'd already be back or dead. You don't need to make it more convincing."

"Have I mentioned that I find your faith in your pupil very admirable? And a tad amusing?"

"You can find it however you like it, Walsh. If I didn't trust Morneau, we wouldn't be doing this in the first place."

"Don't Walsh me, Grant."

"Fine, Moravek then," the sandy-haired specialist said before spinning in the chair of the Section 10 Deputy Director who'd convinced all of HSAIS that Morneau had gone rogue.

"Better," the also sandy-haired man said before adjusting his glasses. Because of the injury to his nose, they weren't sitting in the exact spot that they always sat in and knowing Moravek, it seriously bothered him. As expected, he removed the glasses not an instant later, neatly folding them together and placing them at the corner of his desk so that their frame aligned with the angle of the corner. "If Internal Affairs doesn't eventually interview the partner of the first rogue Section 13 agent in the last seventy years, people are going to start asking questions."

"No one in 13's connected to the Hardline. Let 'em."

"A bold assumption considering the general political leanings of your colleagues. Are you willing to bet Specialist Morneau's life on that?"

"Yes," Redford replied, steadfast.

"Fair enough," Moravek said with a shrug. "I'll still talk to Specialist Young, though."

"Bloody hell, Tobias… if you've already made up your mind, why the fuck even bother asking me for advice in the first place?"

"Because I enjoy your company and I was feeling festive?" the other man responded, this time not getting hung up on the name Redford had used. Personally, the specialist figured that his actual name was Tobias Walsh… it popped up too regularly to just be another alias. Then again, knowing the Section 10 operative, that might just be an intentional usage of the name to make people believe it was his given name…

"Don't give me that bullshit, we both know you only celebrate Unification Day because you think that's what people expect from you. Sorta like you think those stupid glasses make you somehow less intimidating," Redford said, sounding somewhat snappy. "Spoiler, they don't. You still give just about anyone the creeps."

Radoslav Moravek only smiled a perfect plastic smile in response.

"Including you?"

"Fuck yeah. You're a bloody weird bloke, Walsh," Redford said, again testing his naming theory.

"Moravek," the Deputy Director corrected. "By the way, this is why I enjoy your company, Grant. You're always so honest with me!" the Section 10 operative added before clapping his hands and walking over to the closet standing in the corner of his abnormally tidy office. That thing definetly hadn't been there two weeks ago… "And because we're such good friends, I decided to follow Unification Day traditions and get you a present."

"… you don't give gifts on Unification Day, Moravek," Redford pointed out, prompting the man to turn away from the closet he'd just opened.

"… I'd appreciate it if you didn't ruin my transitions with logic," Walshovarek offered. Behind him, Redford could see a cabinet that contained nothing but a single tablet and a dozen polished-silver name plates with different names written on them, among others: R. Moravek, To. Walsh, Ti. Masters, K. Lee and … 'G.R. Ford'… (He wouldn't ask. For both their sakes.)

"Here you go," Radothy Mora-Masters said before handing him the tablet, which started to play the interrogation of an asari the moment Redford's hands touched its frame.

"What's this?" the specialist asked while looking at the prisoners, clearly kept in one of Cronos' interrogation rooms.

"Since Specialist Morneau went rogue, his investigation regarding the Shadow Broker and all related affairs, such as Project Group Insight, have now been reclassified from a Section 13 mission to a Section 10 matter… and as the head of Section 10's investigative group, I have been granted full access to all related information and evidence, including captives," the Section 10 director with a name changing habits explained, causing Redford to finally understand Moravek's insistence on maintaining the lie… he needed it stay intact because he wanted to be the one to take point on the PGI investigation…

… why?

'Now that you've had something to drink, I'll ask you again,' the voice of Tobias Walsh asked before the man in the recording leaned forward on the table and got dangerously close to the asari biotic Morneau had captured. "How did the Shadow Broker come into possession of Hahne-Kedar technology and who is Project Group Insight working for?"

The asari was sweating profoundly – a side effect of a high dosage of truth-serum …

'I-' she statmmered

'You'll feel better when you stop fighting the urge to talk," the blonde man said before offering a thin, predatory smile.

'- the robotics division. As far as I know, the Broker got his stuff from some guys in HK's robotics division. They made the custom suit for him and word is they're also the ones Insight's working for. Or at least they're paying them,' the much frailer asari said, prompting the Section 10 Deputy-Director to make a 'come-here' gesture into the camera. A few seconds later, an unarmored Section 9 operative walked into the room, a syringe in his hand and surgical gloves on both. The restrained asari glanced behind her, noticed the man standing there with a syringe and … the image of the camera froze the moment the soldier went to stab the syringe into the asari's neck…

That's not how HSAIS did things…

"What the fuck did you do to her?"

"We returned a favor to one Doctor Gavin Archer from the Navy's RnD department. As I understand, Section 13 owed him one on behalf of the Bureau for Field Work. So Section 10 decided to pay the debt. On our authority, not yours."

"So you tell a Niner to kill a bloody POW?"

"I assure you, it's just a sedative," the man offered, sounding offended at the notion that he'd break a rule.

"Then why cut the footage?" Redford asked in return.

"I didn't want to bore you with the rest of the video. There's a lot of flailing around… and some very unpleasant vomiting. Apparently someone gave the asari too much truth serum in an attempt to overcome a limited resistance…"

"Yeah I wonder who that could've been…"

"I assure you, she's fine though," his counterpart shrugged. "Interesting tidbit, by the way. The asari you see in that video really was one of Sederis' honorguards. You know the one's I'm talking about?"

Redford nodded.

"They were the most powerful biotic combat unit we've ever faced, supposedly thanks to experimental AMPs and virtual interfaces constructed exclusively for Sederis by a bunch of renegade asari scientists," the man explained. "We never managed to capture one of them alive or in large enough pieces to study a body, mostly because all of them required excessive firepower to kill and the implants exploded upon brain-death," Moravek went on. "But Doctor Archer assures me that the rumors were true. The captive did really have a unique AMP implanted at the base of her neck. And she also had a very interest virtual interface implant…" past tense. 'Bad slip-up Moravek,' Reford thought. "Tissue samples confirm also showed that she had a unique genetic mutation that is definitely not natural to asari. I figured all of that would be interesting to you, considering your wife's species and occupation," Moravek said nonchalantly, probably hoping to get a rise out of Redford at the mention of Tela.

He wouldn't give him that and when Moravek realized, he overtly facepalmed. "Look at me. Rambling after I said I didn't want to bore you," he waved his hand and pointed at a secondary file attached to the tablet. Redford opened it and it was a request for a Section 13 deployment, by none other than Moravek. He wanted someone to go to Hahne-Kedar's laboratories in the Galilean Moons and Director Rei had approved the request… on the condition that Redford went there alongside Yo-yo…

"Happy Unification Day, Grant," Moravek offered before patting Redford on the back several times over.

… the specialist stayed silent in return.

It was good that people like Moravek existed.

They reminded him that HSAIS didn't just have grey sides, but also pitch-black ones…


Meanwhile, 5. May 2417 AD, Terra Nova, Maguires

'You know you're not alone anymore, right?' a familiar voice whispered in his sleep. It was comforting and a welcome change from the usual night terrors. He was about to reply but then…

… the sound of distant, muffled explosion made Morneau wideawake. Instantly the specialist shot up in bed and reached for the handgun -Stone's carnifex - resting under his pillow. He was wide awake and alert… until he caught sight of the clock and the date and time it displayed…

05.05.2417 / 05:05.

… after the time kickstarted his brain, he started to make out bits and pieces of surprisingly harmonious chanting outside and recognized the muffled explosions as fireworks…

'Aqila invicta! Patria aeterna! Aqila invicta, Patria aet-'

… Unification Day celebrations. Of course Terra Novans wouldn't care about waking up the few non-patriots who dared to try and sleep through the night instead of properly celebrating the HSA's birthday the minute the clock hit 05:05…

He ignored the chanting, looked around the dark, rundown motel room that he was staying in and then stashed the Carnifex next to the SIS-8 he'd brought with him from Cronos. While the one that had accompanied him faithfully through his entire career sadly hadn't survived the Shadow Broker mission, Morneau had been smart enough to keep a back-up… just in case anything ever happened to his go-to weapon of choice and the stockpile of ammunition he'd hidden away became redundant due to a lack of a gun…

He listened to the quiet wheezing of the air-conditioner for a moment and wondered if it'd be enough to overshadow the noisy outside. (It wouldn't).

Since he knew the people of Maguires wouldn't stop lighting up the sky until the parades and BBQs started, Morneau decided that he might as well get up now. He kicked his feet out of the bed and groaned.

Unification Day hadn't been something he'd enjoyed or celebrated for the last nine years. Ever since Lancelot's partner JP – Jordan Preece – had bought it on Unification Day eight years ago, celebrating had felt wrong to Morneau; especially when Yegor had still been on Cronos and they could see his mood dip every time the date rolled around. The year prior to JP's death, Unification Day had been sort of rained on by the batarian invaders trying to take over the Verge and killing every human who crossed their paths in an attempt to depopulate the planets for their own colonialization… Not a lot of time to celebrate during that either, hence the nine years.

As he got out of bed and walked to the bathroom of the motel, Morneau cracked his neck and tapped the middle of the bathroom mirror to turn on the lights. For a second, he was blind because whoever was running this motel clearly didn't give a shit about the fact that human eyes were sensitive to bright-white lights in the dark. He blinked, groaned and, after a couple of seconds of feeling like he'd stared right into a flashbang, managed to adjust to his new surroundings.

He glanced at the lower-right end of the mirror where another clock was being displayed.

Unification Day was sort of hard to escape from.

Fine.

Time to get the yearly self-address over with…

Although JP's death wasn't one of the things that haunted Morneau as often as Alec and Akuze, it was still something that had resiliently stuck with him over the years.

Jordan hadn't been the first colleague of his to die, but for some reason he couldn't place, JP's death had hit him and his classmates much harder than the deaths of Eli and Gus in the year prior.

Eli and Gus were the other two deceased members of their class, the one's who'd broken Yegor's 'streak' first.

They'd died the year prior to JP, right around the time of Unification Day too actually. The two had been a heart and a soul and they'd both been killed on Mindoir during the opening days of the Blitz while doing the very un-Section 13-ey thing of running interference on batarian supply lines alongside a recon platoon of the Mindoir garrison.

Personally, he'd always figured that their deaths had been 'easier' to get over because it had been during an actual war and they'd been doing something Section 13 agents usually didn't do; partake in conventional warfare.

Additionally, there had been things that needed to be done back then, work to keep the mind occupied. Unlike with JP's death, there had been no time to think about what had happened. JP on the other end had died in a post-Blitz world, during peacetime. As such, Morneau and the remaining four members of his class had had more than enough time to properly think about the fact that it could've just as easily been them…

The tanned specialist leaned over the sink, turned the faucet all the way to cold and splashed water into his face, letting it run through the dark, three-day beard that was once again covering his face now that he hadn't shaved in a day and a half. When he stood up straight again, the water continued to run down until it hit Yo-yo's fishhook necklace and started to drip on the floor from its pointy end. After another second of looking at the necklace, he started brushing his teeth.

Truth be told, he didn't like the way he'd left things on Cronos Station.

He wasn't one for goodbyes, yes, but he still liked to get things sorted out before leaving for an assignment. Tidy up so to speak, in case something happened and he didn't come back like Alec, JP, Eli or Gus. (Or hell, Okuda, who from an official perspective he currently had much more in common with than any of his other colleagues…)

The circumstances of his current mission hadn't allowed him to do that this time around and while Morneau knew that there hadn't been a choice in the matter – that what he'd done needed to be done – and also knew that he'd always make the decision again, consequences be damned, he still found himself in a previously unfamiliar position; he (almost) regretted leaving.

Not for himself, mind you, but for the people he left behind to pick up the pieces.

After months of being Solomon Gunn, he'd been looking forward to being Daniel Morneau again. There'd been some issues he'd meant to clear up before shit really hit the fan in form of the Reapers and people he'd like to have caught up with before they were blown all over the galaxy by the aforementioned Reapers.

There'd only been time for one reunion and if he was being honest, if he'd known he'd leave again, he wouldn't have gone to see Yo-yo prior to the IA hearing.

Leaving would've been easier if he hadn't felt like being back home for just a minute there…

Pieces he'd left behind set aside, there was something else that was bothering; something far more severe than the idea of having left without tidying up.

Right now, while he was looking at himself in the mirror and making friends with war criminals, mercs and hardline nationalists, everyone who ever knew him was being led to believe that he'd betrayed them and everything they stood.

While he was playing true-believer, they were being told that they'd been wrong about him, that he was acting for selfish reasons and turning his back on everything they'd fought for so hard… and while he'd like to be able to say that he didn't give a single shit about what anyone thought of him, it simply wasn't true in that regard.

He could be the most cold-hearted, most-detached and most-compartmentalizing elite spy in the galaxy and he'd still feel like shit because everyone he ever cared about was thinking the worst of him right now.

Sure, if the worst came to pass and he ended up getting tossed into a basalt canyon with two inside the back of his head, Redford would probably clear things up eventually…

But even so, the state in which he'd left his home front was inacceptable.

He spit the toothpaste out and ran a hand over the Grissom-Academy pattern shaved into the side of his hair. He'd have to get it re-done soon, otherwise it'd look even more stupid. Luckily he didn't think he'd have trouble finding experienced volunteers among his new companions.

He threw one final look at his new, Terra-Novan Hardline self and then turned the blinding light of the mirror off again. Next he walked back towards the bed of the humid motel room and grabbed the black, military-style shirt he'd been wearing all week off the chair where he'd thrown it last night after coming home from his meeting with Stone. It still reeked of a week of binge-drinking with Kyle but since he didn't have anything else to wear other than the uniform he'd fled in, he still pulled it on; thus completing his vagabond look until the stores would open later today and he could buy something that smelled less like alcohol and sweat… (that is if they let him in.)

He sat down at the foot of the squeaking motel bed and looked at the tile floor and the dirty boot-prints he'd left on it in the last couple of days and ever so briefly thought back to something else the person who'd just occupied his dreams had asked him.

'Don't you want to be happy? Or at least not lonely all of the time?'

While it had only been ten days, his last conversation with Emily Wong had played in his mind a million times since and every time, it left a bitter taste in his mouth and mind. For more than one reason.

(That was an entirely different can of worms though, one he wouldn't dare to open until he could afford to not be on his A-Game all the time – so probably never.)

'I'm right where I'm supposed to be. That's all I'll ever need.'

That was what he'd told her back then and even as he was sitting in a run-down, dirty motel on Terra-Nova, smelling, living and feeling like an alcoholic drifter after successfully having made everyone who ever really cared about him believe that he'd betrayed them all on the off-chance that it might serve the greater good instead of just taking him out of the opening hours of humanity's most important fight all the while feeling sorry for himself… he still felt the way he'd told Wong he felt.

This was where he was supposed to be and what he was supposed to do and no matter how ridiculous that sounded … he was fine with the personal prize he was paying …

… what he was starting to not be fine with however was the scorched earth he was inevitably leaving behind every time he agreed to do dumb shit like this…

'It's not dumb shit. It's necessary,' he corrected himself.

He ran a hand through his sticky hair, realized that he hadn't showered yesterday, and immediately discarded the shirt again.

On the grand scale of things, he really didn't have any right to complain.

After all, unlike Alec, Eli, Gus, JP, Okuda and a whole lot of other good people who'd stayed down-range for good, he was still alive and breathing and capable of bitching about life.

That was more than any of them could say and he was sure beyond a hint of a doubt, that all of them would gladly trade with him in an instant.

Sitting in a run-down motel and living drifter-style after giving up your entire existence sucked. But it still beat falling to your death on a planet you didn't know even existed until 24 hours ago and leaving your family behind like Alec had or bleeding out all over the floor of a mansion miserably while some guy you blackmailed into helping you was desperately trying and failing to stop the blood flow the way Okuda had…

And it was certainly far better than dying to some fucking four-eyes who were only bothering you in the first place because some (definitely indoctrinated) jerkasses were telling them that the Skyllian Verge was rightfully theirs…

He stepped into the bathroom, not bothering to turn the lights on, finished getting undressed and then turned on the shower. He let the cold water run down on him, hoping it'd somehow wash away everything he'd just thought about, and leaned his head against the less-than-clean tile wall. He exhaled steady breaths to get over the cold-shock and while doing so, wondered just how much longer he was going to be luckier than the people around him and when it'd be him that someone else was listing among the one who'd stayed downrange.

He wasn't actively looking for it, mind you.

Bitching sat aside, he really liked living.

Sure, he'd be the first to admit that looking back he'd taken some pretty unnecessary risks in the past for all the wrong reasons… but he liked to think that him being aware of this flaw meant that he wouldn't do it anymore (considering he was still himself, though, he wasn't entirely ready to say he'd improved just yet…).

Personal awareness of possibly self-destructive behavior set aside, Morneau still had a feeling that it wouldn't be much longer until the ocean-sized fountain of luck he seemed to be having was going to run out.

He also realized that he'd been saying that for years by now too… but if you got down to it, it was just a matter of chance really.

There was only so many times you could dance on the grim-reaper's nose before you either slipped and fell and died or he got annoyed enough by you to sent you to meet your maker via personal intervention. (via an aneurysm, for example – scary shit.)

Speaking of meeting the maker…

As the cold water ran down his back and the L1 amp in his neck slowly adjusted to the temperature change accompanied by a unique kind of chilly sensation only L1 biotics could relate to, Morneau allowed himself to play through the hypothetical way that might go down.

He wasn't someone who believed in a higher power that guided humanity.

He'd also didn't practice the faith written in his passport.

The HSA had assigned him his mother's Islamic creed upon birth because 'cultural practices indicate that this is what she would've done if she'd been alive post-birth', yes, but that was as far as his relation with the religion went.

He'd never set foot into a mosque, talked to an imam or even said a prayer.

The only reason he hadn't changed his designated creed to 'none' was because other than his name, it was the only thing left of his parents and it felt wrong to just discard half of everything they'd given to him.

So it was just there, written in his passport and service file next to his birthdate so that the HSA knew which member of the military-clergy to send to hold his eulogy when he inevitably ran out of luck. (If he wasn't still officially considered an AWOL traitor when that happened, mind you.)

Religious he was not.

… so yeah… that meeting probably wouldn't go down all too well..

He pushed his head away from the wall and let the water run in his face. The cold stung, but only briefly.

Personal odds of a favorable interaction based on his piety sat aside… if there was such a thing as a maker or a god or some other kind of supernatural force, he sort of hoped that she or he or it would still be nice enough (or alternatively amused enough by his antics) to only let the grim-reaper smack him down for good after he finished this particular shitshow and tidied up the home front properly.

He could live with dying – no matter the circumstances really - … but before he punched his ticket and figured out who ended up being right in regard to one of humanity's oldest, most violent 'discussions', he definitely needed to set the record straight on this whole 'betraying the HSA' thing.

If there ever was one thing he fully believed in, it was the idea the Human Systems Alliance represented: a united human race heading towards a brighter, more peaceful future. And he'd rather go to any of the hells humanity had come up with over the years before leaving this life with people he gave a shit about thinking he'd forsaken the one thing he'd always been able to count on to have his back…

'Okay. Enough of the bitching already. You've got a job to do and whining won't get it done. So put all this shit in a box and don't let it rule you,' Magic told himself.

He recognized the truth in his own mantra and smacked the water faucet shut.

He was doing this for his nation, his principles and his people. That was all the reasons he'd ever need to go through anything.

Happy fucking Unification Day indeed.


Codex: Human Unification Day

'Unification Day', universally celebrated throughout all human territories every year on the 5th of May, is the date marking the foundation of the Human Systems Alliance (05.05.2151 AD) and the most significant national holiday of the Human Systems Alliance. Other significant national holidays include for example Armistice Day, celebrating the end of the Fringe Wars on the 8th of September, and Pioneers' Day on 18th of October, the anniversary of the first human Mass Relay Transit and an homage to the first generations of human space explorers.

While most traditions regarding the celebration of Unification Day varies drastically throughout human space and enthusiasm to partake in parades, fireworks and celebratory dinners now largely depend on which side a colony stood on during the Fringe Wars, the address by the acting Chancellor of the Human Systems Alliance, traffic chaos and an overflow of the comm-buoy network are universal and present on every Unification Day.

While originally a day of celebration and peace, Unification Day has sadly achieved a dramatic undertone over the years. Sometimes called the 'Day of Cruel Fates' in the circle of human political scientists, Unification Day (because of its significance to the HSA) has invited violent terrorsit attacks several times in the past, especially after the Fringe Wars.

In addition to the brutal fighting that occurred on all Unification Days from 2377 – 2381, Unification Day, several 'national tragedies' have occurred on past Unification Days. A selection of the most severe evets include:

- the Bos-Wash Air Collision on Earth; 05.05.2157: Several fighter craft involved in an airshow collide with each other during a low flyover, crashing into onlookers, instantly killing 131 civilians and injuring 703 additional people, 272 of which later died. Most post-event fatalities were posthumously linked to Eezo-poisoning. Note: the Bos-Wash Air Collision was the first time a large number of humans were exposed to volatile Element Zero in human history.

- the Engram-City city hall bombing on Arcadia; 05.05.2198: A suicide bomber with links to now extinct Arcadian secessionist groups detonates himself inside Engram-City's city hall, resulting in the deaths of 23 civilians and security personal and injuring over two hundred bystanders.

- the Camelot-Seaquakes; 05.05.2271: a series of catastrophic earthquakes hit the colony of Camelot during celebrations. The ensuing tsunamis kill over sixty thousand people on the ocean planet. Relief operations from the core world arrive with significant delay.

- the Mine-19 Incident on Amaterasu; 05.05.2313: A toxic earth-gas spill resulted in the deaths of 249 Amaterasu miners. Early suspicions attributing the death to the wildlife pacification operations on Amaterasu are dismissed after several inquiries into the matter.

- the Central-African-Administration-Zone Eezo Spill on Earth; 05.05.2382: A freighter carrying Element Zero suffers a catastrophic seal failure while transferring Element Zero to a facility in the Congo, resulting in Element Zero raining down on the Central-African AZ; exposing millions of people to fine amounts of Element Zero. 56 known fatalities occur later on. A much larger, six-figure number of CA-AZ inhabitants is exposed to non-fatal dosages of Element Zero. Irreversible ecological damage to portions of the Central-African AZ is caused. Biotic abilities begin to manifest in humans and wildlife born after the spill.

- the Kamarov-Cell terrorist attack on New Illyria; 05.05.2390: IFS terrorists launch suicide attacks and subsequent urban combat operations in Elysium's capital city, resulting in 1704 civilian, 162 HSA and 215 IFS casualties. A further 3405 people are injured. Later investigation proofs that the attack served to distract HSA forces from the acquisition of an IFF later used in the attack on Arcturus Station on 22.05.2390.

- the Skyllian Blitz; 05.05.2408: During the week leading up to Unification Day of 2408 AD batarian military forces launch unprovoked assaults on several human colonies in the Skyllian Verge and Fringe. As part of their plans for later colonialization of the colonies, they ruthlessly target the civilian populace in attempts to depopulate the affected worlds. An estimated 9,000,000 civilians (including IFS affiliated militias and law enforcement agency personal) and 3,763,021 military servicemen are killed during the Skyllian Blitz. Millions more are injured, rendered homeless or adducted into batarian slavery. Citadel forces called in to support human troops suffer light casualties. Batarian casualties remain disputed and are universally celebrated to this day.

- the attack on the HSASV Illyria; 05.05.2409: the HSAN cruiser Illyria and its escort frigates (HSASV Horizon, HSASV La Plata, HSASV Verdun), all enroute to anti-slavery operations in the Verge, are ambushed by a batarian-affiliated pirate armada numbering at twenty-seven ships. The Illyria and La Plata are destroyed int he opening minutes of the battle, resulting in the deaths of 661 HSA serviceman. The HSASV Verdun is critically damaged and forced to retreat an hour later. The captain of the HSASV Horizon and several other key-officers, including the XO, are injured during combat operations and can no longer uphold their duties. Instead of retreating, the remaining crew rallies around a turian liason officer previously only observing onboard operations. Captain Kamur Talantis, despite being faced with a numerical disadvantage of twenty-one on one, continues to engage in delay-tactics to prevent batarian interdiction of human lifeboats and the subsequent capture of HSA serviceman. The HSASV Horizon manages to occupy the enemey until Council reinforcements can arrive later that day. The crew of the HSASV Horizon is decorated for 'exellency of command and unparalleled gallantry in the face of insurmountable odds'. HSAN naval tactics are adapted what is now called the Talantis' doctrine. Captain (now Vice Admiral) Kamur Talantis becomes the first non-human recipient of the the Star of Valor and the first person to be awarded both the Nova Cluster and the Star of Valor. He continues his duties as a liason officer to the HSAN Luna Naval Academy to this day and continues to insist that the awards he was bestowed on 05.05.2409 belong to the crew of the HSASV Horizon, not him. Batarian-affiliated ships are hunted down in subsequent anti-piracy operations. The HSASV Horizon and much of the crew present during Talantis' engagement are lost to geth forces during the Battle of the Citadel.

Because of events like these and the clear intention of the enemies of the HSA to use its holiday against it, public and national security during Unification Day has become a continuously rising concern.

Editorial Note: The information regarding the events that qualify Unification Day as a 'Day of Cruel Fates' has been written and submitted to Citadel Codex by the Human Systems Alliance Ministry of Culture and Arts. Citadel Codex Inc. is not liable for any misinformation spread from external sources.


A/N: And here we are. Back with another chapter of Semper Vigilo.

Truth be told, this one's been done for some time now. I've just been delaying the release because I didn't want to give you a back to back update and then drop off the radar for two months. This way we MIGHT manage a monthly schedule after all.

Now I don't actually have a lot to say about the chapter itself, which I think is something that's become rather common when it comes to these breather sequences where nothing "big" happens. I thought about saying that I know that this one feels a bit like a filler/ day-in-the-life chapter but at the end of the day, that's story-relevant too, so yeah.

Up next: A trip to the Citadel alongside the Normandy's crew.

For the record we're at 864 reviews, 1396 favorites and 1487 follows.

Review and let me know what you thought about the chapter. And do spread the word about this story so that my monkey-brain finally gets the satisfaction of writing 14xx favorites and 15xx follows :P

See you around next time.