The Chief had time. A good amount of it in fact. The past few days had allowed him to garner a wealth of information. Almost as soon as he was able, he troubleshooted the apparent disconnect in comm frequencies that was used between the crew of this ship, apparently a scout vessel called 'The Normandy', and his own systems. Using this, he was able to tap into a few, not all, but just enough of the teams communications to get an idea of what was going on. He did not consider himself a prisoner, just a passenger, he was imprisoned of his own volition, and if he chose to remove himself from the confines of his box, he could, and would, do so.
While nowhere near as advanced and complex as it was with Cortana, John's Mjolnir was privy to an extremely advanced passive and active electronic warfare suite. He had received formal training in cyber security and infiltration at the hands of the Navy's best trainers. And while he was nowhere near as adept as Mike or Joshua, he was proficient. All Spartan's were. He had used his suit's speakers to resonate an extremely high-pitch frequency – different from the ones used by the ships communicators, that resonated throughout the ship and bounced off and around the ship, each time he made the walk from the cargo bay to the restroom – allowing slightly more options in regards to space mapping. His suits bio processors made quick work of waste, and since he was unable to remove his armor in the first place, it was quite unnecessary – but did afford him a good opportunity to use the tools he'd been given. As those high frequency waves bounced around the interior of the ship, hitting bulkheads, zipping around open rooms, they returned to his suit at varying periods, allowing his systems to construct a very basic map of the ships interior.
His passive suite was pinging numerous attempts from the shipboard AI to infiltrate his systems, so far with no success. It seems Cortana's rewrites of his software aboard the Forward unto Dawn were working well. He could sense the frustration from the crew at this, they obviously wanted more intel on him. A few visits later from a certain ship psychologist named Kelly, and the crews frustration mounted. He was as impenetrable as a mountain. Good.
While in the cargo bay itself, he made an increasing effort each day to sit in utter silence. He again tuned his speakers to maximum input level, and listened. He learned to quickly tune out the cycling engine, as well as other ship functions, that if left unmuted, would produce deafening noises. It did not penetrate much, but with the combined information gleaned from his limited comm-picking, space mapping, and eavesdropping, he was able to put together a decent picture of what was going on throughout the rest of the ship.
And it confused him. There was a lot of talk about the Chief himself, which was in of itself not much of a surprise - Spartans were usually the subject of a large majority of conversation on any ship they were stationed on – no it was the content of those conversations that was unfamiliar. Comments of 'a different galaxy', 'a mech of some sort', 'is it really human?', and others were what most caught his attention. It seemed as if the crew itself was convinced of his extra-galactic origins. He pondered the implications of this, and then mentally chided himself – he had been too narrow minded as of late. He hadn't been open to seeing all the possible options, shutting down what was for him, too far-fetched to believe, in order to retain some resemblance of familiarity. He took a deep, meditative breath – he had to keep all his options open.
His attention shifted to the two guards outside the bay. Usually they were his main source of information. While not easily penetrated, the walls of the cargo bay were most definitely not soundproof. The Master Chief was able to listen in on quite a few conversations from each of the guard shifts. Most of it was just chatter, with his least favorite shifts taking place when a woman named 'Jack' was on duty – she was loud. Very loud. And the conversation never seemed to contain useful intel. He filtered those out – no use giving himself a headache. The crew in general was unusually chatty – much too so for a military vessel, the lack of discipline was not working well to their advantage. But it was to his.
The current conversation in particular was really catching the Chief's attention. Apparently the rest of the crew had disembarked recently in order to hit a mercenary facility on a planet called Noveria. The name was unfamiliar to the Chief, as well as was the opposition, apparently a group of mercenaries that called themselves the 'Blue Suns'. The most interesting of the given information, with the exception of the two guards outside his door, and the essential crew members for ship operations, the rest of the crew, at least the combat capable, had departed.
John considered his options. The lack of crew members could work to his advantage – it would make any move on his part easier – less witnesses. He began to weigh his options…
As at any time, he could always bust out, neutralize the crew, and hijack the ship, although unfamiliar as the design as he was, and with the number of crew he had seen during their trip to the Navigation room, he ruled that out as a possibility.
He could just leave the ship, but then again, he had no idea where Noveria was. They had temporarily moved him out of the cargo bay – which apparently doubled as a hangar – while the team exited the ship. They took with them a blocky, angular vehicle, another of which the Chief did not recognize. That meant they hadn't landed the main vessel. EVA was not exactly on the Chief's to do list for the time being. Some time had passed since they had initially left, a few hours, and the Chief was growing suspicious.
He considered disabling the current crew and placing them as hostages in order to gain extra intel, when he heard something very, very interesting, from just outside the bay doors that drew him from his musings.
"We can't just leave him here!" came a voice from a face the Chief had not met, who seemed to be arguing with the suited woman, a member of a species called 'Quarians'.
"We don't really have another option! He's locked in there, what's he gonna do?"
"Shepard will be just fine – he's gotten out of worse before."
"Yeah, they haven't exactly been in a situation like this before though."
"I trust him to be fine. We should stay here, and make sure Master Chief doesn't get away."
"Tali, it's either him or the crew. We can't do both, they need our help, and you know it."
"How do you know they're even in that much trouble, huh? For all we know, they just have comms issues."
"You heard Shepard! He seemed to be in a good amount of pain, doesn't really leave much to the imagination does it?!"
"That's just team two! Team one can handle it!"
"Then why haven't they reached out over comms?"
"Jammer?"
"The Normandy's sensors would've picked it up during the approach."
"UHHHH what would we even do?" There's just two of us! Plus we'd have to get into the hangar to even leave- the shuttle's there. What would we tell our friend in there? 'Oh hey, sorry, gotta run, don't make to much trouble, we'll be back soon, by the way, stay here please!'-"
"Bring him with us."
"-not to mention we'd have to lock the hangar from the 'inside' this time, and leave him alone with… with the…. wait, what did you say?"
"We bring him with us."
"What?!"
"You're right. We can't leave him here alone, that's asking for too much trouble. If we bring him along, we can make sure the crew is safe to stay here, and we can help Shepard and the rest."
"But what if he gets away?"
"So? I couldn't care less honestly. Keeping this guy locked in here is not worth Shepard or the other's lives. If he gets away, he gets away. Then, he's not really our problem anymore, is he?"
"…. I guess so. But it's stupid."
"Tali, Tali, Tali. I'm disappointed in you. You should know by now that we excel in stupidity."
"Especially you, bosh'tet…. But you have to do the talking."
"Will do."
This was going to be easier than he thought.
OOOO
Tali watched with nervous apprehension as Vega moved to disengage the hangar locks. This was stupid, and she knew it. The big green bastard in the hangar had proven it was not to be messed with, and here they go, messing around as much as could possibly be accomplished. She should've known there was going to be trouble.
The door slowly slid open, showing the armored behemoth sitting calmly on the ground, legs crossed, staring at them. 'Keelah that stare! I'm Quarian and that helmet is still scary.'
Vega calmly (at least on the outside), approached the being, rifle at the ready, expecting to have to snap it up at any time. He looked briefly back at Tali, who had slowly followed, took a deep breath, and started to speak.
"We have… a situation. Me and Tali here have decided that we need you to come along-"
"I know."
"-on a shuttle to… to… you do?"
A nod.
"How?"
"You're loud."
"Oh. Um, well, in that case…" Vega took a deep breath, readying himself for the proposition. "Listen," he began, "Our friends are in trouble. We don't need your help, and I'm sure you don't want ours. I'm sure we all want to just stay out of each others way. If you don't run away, I can promise we'll do all we can to help you get to where you need to go. Just stay low, and stay with us – we're going to get our friends back. Okay? Don't cause any trouble, and we'll try to work something out."
A hesitation, brief, but there. Then a nod.
Tali let out a small breath she didn't realize she had been holding. This was easier than she thought.
Vega seemed just as satisfied with the way things are going. Apart from the fact that there had not been but a few words in total uttered on his entire stay on the Normandy, he seemed honorable enough. Well, apart from the eating, the sleeping, the sitting, and the sparring against invisible enemies, it hadn't seemed as if the giant had done much to misplace their trust.
"Okay, we're already suited up from being on guard duty. I say we head out now. Any thoughts otherwise?"
Tali shook her head, all the while staring at the ominous gold face plate that seemed to stare right back.
IOIOIOIOI
"uugghhh..." It felt like someone had taken a crowbar to James' head, as he stirred from the blackness of his current state. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the raging headache that seemed to originate from the back of his skull.
He heard voices, very faint, as if they were echoing off the walls of a long chamber. Mumbling.
He tried to open his eyes, and was greeted with an intensely bright light that quelled all attempts to get a visual gauge of the situation.
'Am I…. drunk?' He thought. The headache, the bright lights, the voices, it matched. He didn't remember drinking… of course, that probably was the problem wasn't it. With a hangover this bad, he probably wouldn't have remembered anything about the previous night. He felt himself slowly drift in and out of consciousness, before finally attempting to rouse himself and get his bearings. He struggled to remember what was going on. Had the crew visited a bar lately? What were they doing? The thoughts slowly started to come back, one by one.
No… they hadn't been to a bar for a while. They were on Noveria… they were…. They were… on an op. He darted awake. Something was immediately wrong. As his consciousness caught up to him, it panted heavily and placed hands on knees as he realized a few things about his situation. The first, he was tied to a chair, with seemingly the brightest light he had ever seen in his life glaring right in his face.
'What happened?' He racked his brain, trying to remember. He, Miranda, and Jack, had just given the go ahead to move in on the merc facility. He signaled the other teams to move up, and they had efficiently neutralized the border guard. He faintly recalled hearing Grunt's furious yells, Garrus' sniper rifle, and Jack's curses as they pushed into the facility, guards dropping left and right.
Things had gone well up to that point, too well. He could sense something was wrong, a feeling almost akin to being watched. The opposition had been, by no means light – but it wasn't what he had been expecting from a group of highly trained mercenaries commissioned to guard an extremely rare Prothean artifact. The others had felt it too. The second they had walked into the facility, something went wrong.
Once, as a child, on a dare from his sister, James had attempted to lick an electrical outlet in his home. The shock he received was enough to keep him from data pads, light switches, and the vid display for a week. His sister thought it was hilarious. His mom, not so much.
He had a similar feeling, yet quite significantly more intense, the second his three-man team stepped into the building. It was as if their omnitools had transformed into miniature avatars or electric pain. A few seconds of spasms, and then they were out cold.
That brings us to now.
A cold, rough voice -unfamiliar- spoke to him from just behind the light, tsking softly. "Oh Shepard… look what you've done this time. I knew the Illusive Man was gullible, but this is really something here."
Shepard decided to resume his default attitude that he reserved for people he disagreed with, people who annoyed him, and his crew. He tuned right into his favorite channel – a sarcastic bastard. "I'm assuming from the fact that I'm sitting down instead of bent over that the Blue Suns have had a change of policy? It's about time really, I've been hearing stories."
A soft chuckle greeted him, before that same voice greeted him, "you know, you're funnier than they said you'd be. Not quite funny enough to warrant keeping you around though. Do you know why you're here?"
"To look pretty?"
"Your crew is scheduled for immediate execution. We don't need them anymore than you need that dick of yours right now. This is going to play out nice and simple – you tell us what you want, and maybe we let you off a few limbs less. Comprende?"
Shepard sighed. Of course this was an interrogation. They always wanted to talk. Ever since reaching Spectre status, there had always been some group out for his head. These guys were just a bit more successful than most.
"First question I've got for you. Where is the Janus Key?"
OOOO
Every second he thought about it, the crew's explanation of current events was making more and more sense. The different species, the star chart discrepancy, the ship design, the unusual comm frequencies, the weaponry, the unfamiliar shapes and machinery – the evidence was mounting in the Chief's head. For some reason, he was inclined to scrap it all and stick with his gut. They had to be lying. But he just couldn't shake it. Was it possible? Could he really be in… in another galaxy? It defied all logic, and everything he had known to be truth. He supposed maybe that's why it was so hard for him to accept. Precisely because it went against everything he knew. He was a Spartan – his life was centered around a few constants.
Number one, his duty to humanity, his fellow Spartans, and the UNSC – none of which seemed to exist here except, maybe, humanity.
Number two, his ability to use his training and experience to develop a tactical response to any situation. This was on and off. He believed his reluctance to accept… what may in fact be the truth, was holding him back from seeing all possible angles.
Number three, there was always another mission. But was there? Assuming he believed this… new reality, what was next for him? What would he do? His life, his goal, was to protect humanity. Whatever the cost. Was that even an option anymore? From what he could tell, humanity seemed to be working just fine from the rest of the galaxy, at least, from what he could glean from the ships example of occupants.
All these were thoughts that flooded the Chief's head as he gazed across the vast newness of the planet known as Noveria. It seemed to confirm everything for him. He didn't recognize this place. He sure as hell should've.
He looked over at the two nervous occupants beside him, each fidgeting with weapons and trying not to look directly at him. He would leave as soon as he hit the ground. Wouldn't he?
They were talking between themselves, discussing plans. They were going to scout out the place, hopefully with Chief in tow, and try and gauge the situation. Once they had located the other crew members, they could better formulate a plan. The soldier, Vega, seemed to have a good amount of experience under his belt. He had the look of a seasoned soldier about him, which the Chief could instantly relate to. He didn't have the aura of what the Chief had come to experience with those of a criminal disposition, this man seemed much more open ended, more honest than members of criminal factions he had 'met' in the past.
The Quarian woman, Tali, was much more nervous. She kept fidgeting in her seat, eyes darting from window, to her weapon, to the Master Chief, and back to Vega. It wasn't the panicked attitude that normally accompanied those on their first drop into hostile territory, though from the way she held her weapon, examined the Chief's stance, and it seemed she was indeed experienced, just very young. Nerves were a tricky thing.
All in all, they reminded Chief of… Marines. The realization surprised him. His mind drifted back to an event years prior of an operation on Draco V, where he accompanied a group of UNSC Marines to liberate a Covenant prison camp. The same shifty, nervous movements of uncertainty in the face of possible death, the way they went out of the way to ensure the safety of their comrades even by disobeying orders. Criminals didn't have that kind of loyalty. No… these people were different. He couldn't sense a drop of maliciousness coming from either.
His mind recalled the events of the past few days. They really had taken decent care of him. He wasn't treated the way he knew other prisoners of war had been kept. They indeed granted him a much greater degree of freedom, solitude and peace than he probably would have if he was in their shoes.
John's eyes drifted out the window, as he saw the white mountain ranges blur past the viewscreen. He watched as the craft decelerated and came to a gentle stop upon the mountain slope. This was it. His chance.
He looked down at the two who had set him free, essentially. They were going up against a force that managed to neutralize the entire crew, some of which were a great deal more experienced than those here. 'They're going to die', he realized.
They looked at him, clearly expecting him to bolt. He didn't. It surprised all three of them. The Chief nodded at the tall man, Vega, who looked back for a moment, shrugged, and then continued forward. He felt Tali's eyes on him a little longer as he moved to follow, after falling into place themselves. They trudged on through the snowy terrain, following a slightly more level plane of ground over slight rises and dips.
Vega looked at his wrist, what the Chief had come to know as an omnitool. It glowed with holographic intensity – a form of hard light, possibly, as he seemed to track the crew's position, and seemingly satisfied, looked back, feeling the need to clarify, the last position marks them a kilometer away to the northeast. The Chief mentally calculated the required time, factoring their speed, the difficult terrain, and the path that they would actually have to travel. While nimble, the two beside him were certainly not Spartan's. It would take about 30 minutes to reach their destination. He mentally shrugged, and continued onward, wondering what the universe had in store for him this time.
OOOO
"I don't know what the hell you're talking about!"
It was the third time they asked. Solid fists had marked their reply to each of James' answers. And truthfully, he hadn't a damn idea what they were talking about.
"The longer you keep it up, the longer I promise you'll stay here. And you do not want that. I'll come back to that in a second. Let's get you to loosen up a little bit first. How about, what do you know about the Kopis incident?"
"You mean that time where I found the lot of you fuckers dead? Good times."
A fist to the gut a moment later had him groaning and gasping for air. "I've been pretty patient with you Commander," the voice uttering the word like a curse. "I've killed a lot of people for a lot less."
The figure behind the light shifted, seemed to gesture towards a far wall, and ordered his men, low and cool,
"Kill the smallest."
Shepard's eyes widened. His mind raced. The voice chuckled. "Somehow I knew exactly how to get you to loosen up," an obvious smile tainting the statement as if it was itself trying to infect a populace's drinking water. "Tell you what, we give you one last chance, and she only loses a finger. Or two. Got that?"
James was reminded of events a few years ago, as an N7, when he had stumbled across the remains of a trader gang that had brutally executed an Alliance team. His immediate hatred towards the gang had fueled him for days to come, and he was no more merciful when they finally caught up with the gang than they themselves had been. This group, these mercs… he hated them with the same passion. They were monsters, who preyed on pain and torture. They would get what's coming to them.
He nodded in reply. He would cooperate. Until he killed them. And he would kill them.
"You recovered an object from Lopis. What did you call it? An obelisk? All we need to know, is where you took it."
"Off planet," Shepard coughed, "we gave it to a researcher on the Citadel. I don't… I don't remember the name."
The man nodded at the man in the back, who turned as if to leave.
"No! Wait! I promise! I really don't know!"
The speaker looked at Shepard, and seemed to consider his words, very carefully. He nodded again, this time in Shepard's direction. "I believe you." Shepard sighed, relieved. "Bring me her finger. I need to show this man we mean business."
"Hey! What the hell? I told you what you wanted to know, you fuck! You promised me you wouldn't hurt anyone if I talked!"
"No Shepard, we did not. I told you, if you tell us, she will lose a finger. You misunderstood me, clearly. Be grateful its not her head."
"Wait! Just wait! Don't do anything. If you're going to do something – do it to me. Please."
"Ah Shepard. You remind me of an event I recently attended. My home city team was playing in a football match against a nearby village. Our team had the league record for the most consecutive wins in a season – and do you know what the result was? Predictable. Just like you Shepard. To a fault. No, it will be her finger, and this will let you know of the position you are in. Hopeless." Another gesture to the man in the back, who promptly left, closing a solid steel door behind him.
The Commander hung his head. He was running out of options. Time to go for broke. "When the rest of my team hears about you, you're a dead man. You can't run-"
He was cut off by a loud, hysterical laugh. "Oh Shepard, you take me for a fool! You really are funnier than they even hinted at. The rest of your team? Apart from the ones in our holding cells, I don't seem to be aware of any team. Oh, except for the two misfits left on guard duty on your ship. Or, correction, the two misfits who left guard duty on your ship." The Commander blinked, confused.
They had left? Who was guarding the Master Chief? Of course they would leave… He'd have done the same thing in their place.
"Wait… how did you know about that?"
"Haha Shepard, we've been watching you for days! You were just too stupid to realize. You caught our attention when you picked up our big green friend earlier, but once we get his hands on him as well, you'll no longer be of any concern to us. Its obvious you don't know where the Janus Key is, but maybe he does."
"Why do you think he knows? You know absolutely nothing about him." He sincerely hoped that he was right. The Master Chief, a spy? It would make sense, the situation was fishy enough. And now he was left aboard the Normandy, with no supervision. Dammit, that was stupid.
His thoughts were interrupted, when the door at the back reopened, admitting a shadowy figure, who approached the interrogator. There seemed to be a hand off of some sort. Quite contemplation filled the air, before the speaker turned again to Shepard.
"Lets get back to the matter at hand. The 'obelisk'. Can you describe it?"
Shepard stared for a few seconds before answering, trying to discern any physical features of the men in the room. The blaring light was too much – it prevented any distinction from reaching his sight. "It was a small, black, prism. About a foot in length. The researcher, he… he called it the Obelisk of Karza. That's all I know. He wanted it for some project he was working on. He didn't tell me why, or what his intentions with it were. We only went because he offered to help us translate Prothean ruins if we did."
Silence greeted him for a moment. "You do not quite realize the significance of the object you recovered. It is my intention that you never will." The man turned to the one that had approached him. "Stick him, then put him in with the rest. Shock them, and then burn the bodies." He turned, tossing a small object onto Shepard's lap, who didn't react – just stared back. Slowly, his eyes drifted down to the object he had been thrown, and his breath caught in his throat.
A single human finger.
OOOO
It had taken them just as long as the Master Chief had predicted to reach their current position - a jagged outcropping overlooking the facility. Dozens of guards lined the premises, a pile of bodies near the edge of the encampment – dead mercs.
The three surveyed the facility – it seemed now impenetrable. Preliminary scans had shown at least half as many mercs before the operation had began. It had obviously been a trap. Vega cursed softly under his breath, as he crept back into cover. "I count at least 50..."
Tali nodded, in the same position, kneeling behind cover on the Chief's opposite side. "Same here…. Keelah how are we going to do this?"
"We've gotta try Tali. Those are Blue Suns, they'll execute them if we don't do anything."
The two Normandy crew sat down, racking their brains for possible options.
This caused the Master Chief to think – these Blue Suns, they much more resembled the Insurrectionists than the crew of the Normandy itself. They were shifty, morally bankrupt, and merciless. Mercenaries. This is who he was trained to fight. Instinctively, he analyzed the situation. 50 armed guards, 360 degree overlapping fields of fire, some of which looked heavily armed and armored, surrounding a group of captured hostages, who would be executed upon intervention. The situation was… complicated. Even for a Spartan, let alone these two next to him.
He considered the options. He could just leave. No one would ever be the wiser. This wasn't his fight. But then again, where would he go? Who would he go to? Here he was, a group of armed bandits holding hostages that were, for their part, as lawful as he could have wished for. That's when it hit him. This was his fight. This is why he was a Spartan. His duty was to protect humanity.
But what was humanity? He had killed hundreds, if not thousands of human beings. So it seemed he didn't protect humans, then. Then what was humanity? Deja's, his former teacher's, voice resonated in his head. 'Humanity… humaneness – benevolence.' Humanity wasn't a species. It was an ideal.
"You need a distraction." Two heads whipped his direction, it was the first time he spoke since the 'breakout.'
"What?" Vega blinked at him, the words not quite registering.
"There's too many of them. You'll need a distraction of sufficient size to leave a flank unprotected. See those aircraft – similar to the one we came in? That's their extraction." He saw out of the corners of his eyes as they just stared at him.
"Ohkkay…. Suggestions?"
He turned to the Quarian, the apparent technical expert. "Can you cause a communications malfunction to get their attention?" She nodded, hesitantly. "Can you disable the aircraft?"
She shook her head, a confident no. "Not unless I can get close. Real close…. But… if I can get to one, then I should be able to patch into the rest. They share systems!"
The Chief looked back at the facility, bustling with activity. He was unarmed. But he wouldn't stay like that for long.
IOIOIOI
Quick clarification so things don't get confusing, yes, there are two James' - the commander, and Vega. I know Vega doesn't come until ME 3. This is not specifically an ME 2 story. I take what I think is good, and I go with it. The plot points will be different, and so will a few of the characters. I'll do my best to keep away from using outside characters that are integral to the story, but remember kids, its not gonna be exactly how it was in ME2. I was thinking two John's was pushing it, as they were both basically main protagonists, and James seems to suit Shepard well. I'll do my best to avoid any mix up when the two get together.
Again, this is not really gonna follow the plot of any of the games, at least in regards to points. Themes, though, I want to extend. I've been thinking, if its gonna be a Spartan sized story – it better have some spartan-level villains.
Again, as always, help me shore up some plot holes that you see. I'm trying to pump out a lot of story fast at the beginning, to get myself a little more wiggle room and get on a good place to keep myself motivated – the downside, I hope I'm not going too fast. Let me know.
