There was a craggy mountaintop nearby the facility, complete with observation equipment and a small shuttle. The angle of said position was just enough to restrict visibility from the facility, but not vice versa. The observer was especially intrigued with the events that had transpired over the last few minutes. He had expected something, but this certainly exceeded his wildest hopes.

Of course, they had a loose end to deal with, Shepard. They had planned to execute the crew, and were seconds from doing so, when they were so conveniently interrupted. That could pose a problem. There had been little information shared with the Cerberus Commander, but even an idiot could draw lines between the points drawn. The man suspected that Shepard truly had little idea of the origin and purpose of the Obelisk of Karza, or the Janus Key as it was otherwise known, but they could be afforded no chance to put the pieces together. The stakes were too high.

Luckily, the implant Shepard received seemed to be functioning normally. Problem solved.

His source had been extremely reliable, but she was a loose end as well. He could change that with but a push of a button. But it was nice to have someone on the inside. He would let her live, if just for a little while longer.

OOOO

The past few hours had held a world of confusion for Garrus. From attack, to capture, to liberation, with their own captive himself as their liberator. My, how the tables turn. He was grateful, sure, but incredibly suspicious. He had never approved of Shepard working with Cerberus, and it seemed they all to easily accepted recruits from random corners of the galaxy. They were already as rag-tag as it was, and it seems the Commander had put them in a dangerous position by bringing such an enigmatic god of war onboard the ship.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts as he piloted the shuttle to their signified extraction point. Each team would retrieve the Normandy's own shuttles from their respective positions, before proceeding to the Normandy itself. It was hard to trust merc equipment as it is, and it would allow EDI to autopilot the shuttles, affording greater ability to coordinate their entry – but she required manual overrides, something they couldn't provide from the Blue Sun's shuttles.

The Turian security officer looked to the shuttle bay, as he saw a number of those aboard attempt to patch themselves up, most notably, Vega and Jack. The former had taken a round to the gut on the way in. He was a tough bastard, but even the Alliance Liaison wasn't invincible. Garrus noted with satisfaction at the actions of the marine. One of the few crew members that he was happy to bring aboard, James Vega had been assigned to the Normandy with a subtle bit of subterfuge. Through a secret contact, they had found a way to place their own asset onboard. They were lucky to have him – he had proven invaluable in combat, and it seemed his quick thinking had saved their lives, not to mention his experience fighting the Collectors on Fehl Prime would come in handy in coming days, which Garrus suspected was the primary reason for his presence on the Normandy, and as far as Cerberus was concerned, probably the only acceptable one.

Jack, however, seemed even more angry than usual. This was no surprise. The loss of a digit on anyone would be cause enough to yell and curse, yet the biotic had seemed much more overcome with feelings of rage and revenge than hurt or sorrow. The Turian grimaced as he recalled the events leading after their liberation, when Jack had used her biotic abilities to savagely rip apart the bodies of the fallen in a bid for vengeance, however petty.

Zaeed, apart from the cursing and drinking, had settled into his calm default manner – cursing and drinking. No problem there. Grunt was also seemingly satiated – his blood rage serving to lap his lust for violence.

Thane, was, well, Thane, and Samara was also acting her usual self. No surprise there – the two had proven to be calm in the face of pretty much everything that had been thrown their way.

No, Garrus' thoughts were really gravitated towards the occupants of the other shuttle, namely, the Commander and the 'Master Chief', as he was apparently called. The Turian's face wore a web of confusion, which, considering his species facial structure, was rather impressive. They had been saved by the least expected source, their own prisoner. Who would've thought?

He was worried about the Commander, though. He didn't look to be in too good of shape after his encounter with the mercenaries.

His own thoughts were interrupted as he was directed by Miranda, occupying the other shuttle, of the next few moments of action. They addressed his concerns. "Garrus, take the shuttle down and pick up the one we left earlier, I'll take the others up top to retrieve the one Vega and Tali brought down. It's closer, and Shepard's in trouble. We have to hurry."

He acknowledged the order, and quietly swore. The Commander had come back from the dead before, but they wanted to keep such activities to a minimum. Time was short.

OOOO

Much to the surprise of those present, the Master Chief was otherwise engaged in medical duties – assisting the human woman known as 'Miranda', with treatment of her fellow soldier. Immediately after transferring shuttles, his condition seemed to worsen.

As with everything, the Master Chief had received extensive training in field medical operations, which he had used dozens of times throughout his career, to varying degree. He had, of course, never performed a surgery, but he had patched up quite the variety of battle wounds for marines, fellow Spartans, and himself. As such, he expertly assessed the fallen commander's situation. Shock had set into effect, and the Commander seemed to be bleeding lightly from a number of wounds on his torso, most notably, a puncture in his side. His face was swollen and bruised, and when the Chief opened an eyelid, he suspected that the Commander had also suffered from a mild concussion.

All in all, he should be doing better than he was. Not to say that such things couldn't incapacitate a person, but from the Commander's fading pulse, he knew something else was at play here, considering the Commander had been a completely healthy human being. His suspicious were confirmed when the man began to violently convulse, his unconscious body still sending mismatched signals to limbs and muscles.

The woman beside him paused, eyes widening, she tried to hold him down in effort to prevent the man's wild movements. John put a hand on her shoulder, and forced her hands away. She spun to him, an angry look on her face. "What do you want?"

"He's having a seizure. Don't restrict his movements." He turned back down to the Commander and placed the man on his side, letting him breath more easily. He scanned the body, his suits sensors picking up the erratic heartbeat. That wasn't good. "Get ready to start compressions. You have a defibrillator?"

"Wha… yeah we do, his heart is still beating though!"

"Not for long."

They looked at him in slight panic. He looked back pointedly. Miranda seemed to understand and grabbed a package from the shuttle wall. She pulled out what the Chief assumed to be a defibrillator, however the design was much different from the designs he was used to. Mentally shrugging – he supposed there would be a lot different between their two 'realities'. He turned his suits acute sensors back to the matter at hand. He attuned his suit to pick up the movements and vital signs of the man under him. He picked up a slight electrical discharge, and the movements stopped, as did the mans heart.

In an instant, he understood what was happening. The Commander's body had been subjected to a minor electrical internal pulse. Nothing extreme or high amps, yet it had just the power to stop his seizing heart. Normally such a small impulse would not affect the heart's performance to any noticeable degree, but his seizure had altered that – subjecting his heart to erratic stimulation. In regards to the seizure itself, the Chief theorized there had been a trace amount of chemicals released in the blood stream, causing his body's systems to panic just enough to be offset by the pulse. The solution? A much more powerful pulse from a defibrillator to hopefully restart the heart and correct the abnormal rhythm.

He turned to the other human woman, hidden behind her hood and frozen in place. Pointing at her, and then back down to the Commander, he ordered, "you, begin chest compressions, 1 per second, no breaths," -if he himself attempted to perform the compressions, well, he bet the rest of the crew wouldn't appreciate him turning their CO into a bag of meat. Then pointing at Miranda, "get that defibrillator up, we need it – now."

That spurred them into motion. Turning to Jacob, he asked in a straightforward fashion, "Does this craft have any onboard medical diagnostic sensors?"

The questioned soldier shook his head. "No, but the Normandy does, Doctor Chakwas has already been notified of the situation. We'll need to get him to the med-bay the second we get aboard."

The Chief nodded, agreeing. As Miranda set up the defibrillator around Kasumi's hands, she gave them the thumbs up. Ready. Kasumi lifted her hands. "Clear!" The Commander's chest jumped. Kasumi paused, hope and dread in equal measure lighting her features. The Chief felt a faint beat under his arms sensors, the procedure had worked, if but barely – the Commander was still experiencing a condition known as an arrhythmia, an irregular staccato rhythm of heartbeats that would kill the Commander as easily as if it stopped beating altogether.

"Continue compressions. Do not stop until we reach the med-bay, prep another shock in 30 seconds." John commanded. He frowned at their lack of formal medical training. From the wide look in their eyes, he suspected they rarely dealt with comrades so close to the brink. With the exception of Jacob, he noticed a sense of desperation about them. As he continued to provide instructions, his assessments turned to the man beside him. He had obviously different training than the others present, the Chief knew the look of a seasoned soldier when he saw one. Although accustomed to death, there was the ever present haunted look of someone who knew that a close friend was hanging between life and death.

The other woman, Miranda, looked at him, but didn't say anything. He was used to stares. She did so for a number of seconds, before his head snapped up to look at her back. Her eyes were wide, possibly from the alien blood that coated his armor, or his massive bulk. Her mouth began to move, no sound emanating. She paused, seemed to take a deep breath, and spoke again. "What do we do now?" This caused him thought. She seemed extremely hesitant to ask, yet it seemed as if she understood the gravity of the situation.

He momentarily was struck by the oddity of the situation. Less than an hour ago, these same people had held him 'captive' on their ship. Now they looked to him for direction and guidance. The irony was not lost on him. He pushed aside those thoughts and answered. "Until we reach the med-bay, not much. Continue compressions, and in 30 seconds deliver another shock."

She looked on in confusion. "His heart's going again…."

"He has an arrhythmia, if not corrected it can cause further issues. This", he pointed at the device in her hands, "will hopefully stabilize his heartbeat." The Master Chief walked over to the small box of medical supplies that Miranda had opened, and pulled out a small tube labeled 'epinephrine.' He turned back to Shepard, and removed the syringes covering, injecting the commander with the chemical otherwise known as adrenaline. It would also serve to stabilize his heart rate and raise blood pressure, with any luck.

They repeated the process of compressions and defibrillations until the shuttle reached the hangar. Tali, currently sitting in the cockpit to direct communications, announced with a tense voice, "We're docking now, Chakwas is on station. She wants us to put him on the stretcher immediately."

The Master Chief nodded. They would have to move him quickly. He grabbed a rifle from the ground and moved it aside, clearing the path for the occupants to move his body unhindered. As soon as the door open, he sprang into motion, picking up the Commander and lying him on the nearby stretcher. Despite herself, the Doctor, Chakwas, jumped slightly at his imposing appearance. She shook her head and refocused on the situation at hand- saving the Commander. She was also jumped into action, when the Chief asked, calmly but firmly, "where is the med-bay?"

"Deck 3," was the response, as she expertly assessed Shepard's conditions. Multiple face contusions, possible concussion, erratic heartbeat, multiple small punctures on the torso, with a larger one on his side, near the rib cage.

She, Miranda, Jacob, and the Master Chief rushed to the elevator. The others tried to join them, but she pushed them away. There were too many for a delicate operation. As she did so, she saw a bleeding Vega and Jack to the side. Turning to Miranda, in a voice that denied her stature, ordered, "bring those two up on the next elevator. We'll treat them as soon as we can." The Cerberus operative hesitated, looking briefly at all those present, and then ran back to the bay. The elevator doors closed, and Doctor Chakwas proceeded to sanitize a spot on the Commander's inner arm, and then insert an intravenous needle into the location, allowing the saline mixture to provide the Commander with the necessary fluids.

She was surprised when the giant beside her spoke up. She had spoken with him very little, her insistence on a medical check up had been turned down on multiple occasions, each frustrating her to no small extent.

"His heart was stopped by a minor electrical impulse after he entered a chemically-induced seizure. I was able to detect no foreign entities on the exterior. I recommend a sub-dermal scan of the torso to identify the object."

She nodded. A good assessment. Very good. She would need to talk with this giant later, but for now, it was time to do what Doctor Chakwas did best.

Save lives.

IOOOOOI

Miranda was angry. Angry at the Blue Suns who had caused this situation, angry at the green giant for taking charge and showing her up, angry with the Commander for getting hurt. Mostly, she was angry with herself. She had received no small amount of medical training herself, yet she had panicked – blanked, if you will, relying on the newcomer to preserve the life of her friend. He had done the job well, but that had not placated the biotic woman.

Her teeth grinded as she mentally berated herself for this massive shortcoming. 'It won't happen again.' Her powerlessness had frustrated her. Had scared her. Never before had she been so prone to lapses in attention, in calm composure. She was designed to be the epitome of human evolution. She had directed her anger into the sealing of Vega's wound. He grimaced as she poked, prodded, heated and punctured. From the look he saw on her face, he wouldn't dare say anything, but it kind of hurt.

Now that this task had been completed, she had no outlet for her anger. She couldn't even understand why she was so mad! The biotic took a deep breath to calm herself. She needed to remain in control. Yes, control. That was it. She had control once again – something she had been lacking this last operation.

As she finished her self-assessment, the doors to the surgery room opened. Out stepped the Master Chief, surprisingly, having assisted the Doctor in some shape or form, and then the Doctor herself. While the green giant simply exited the room and headed for the elevator, the doctor turned to the Normandy's XO. "He's going to be fine. He'll be out for a little while longer, we had to put him under deep to remove the implant he was given, but he's been stabilized now."

Miranda let out a deep breath. Good, the mission hadn't failed, at least, not completely. Her CO was alive, which meant they still had a chance to accomplish their primary objective – defeating the Collectors. "Thank you, doctor."

The doctor frowned, removing the gloves she had used during the surgery. "Don't thank me, you should thank the Master Chief. The Commander would've died on the shuttle had it not been for him."

Miranda frowned. She had been afraid of that – they had gotten extremely lucky with the presence of the massive soldier. It was humbling to know that without his actions, things would have turned out much differently, with or without her involvement.

A thought occurred. "You let him assist with the surgery?"

The doctor looked at her like she was crazy. "Are you kidding me? He was covered in blood and foreign intoxicants and other material! If he had even touched the Commander during the operation it could've contaminated his blood stream!" Miranda had never heard such a stern declaration from the doctor, who seemed to notice her reaction to her outburst. Her face smoothed, "no, the Master Chief only appraised me of the situation and what to suspect. His insight was invaluable. I would not have immediately looked for Shepard's recent implant without his advice."

That had Miranda's head spinning. Implant! When? She had no knowledge of him receiving some implant or injection during the operation! She had been with him the whole ti… No. She hadn't. The biotics eyes widened as she realized when the Commander must have been implanted with the device. "Can I see it?"

The doctor frowned once more, "I suppose, but its dead now, it won't serve you any further use. I mean to give it to Mordin as soon as I'm cleaned up here." She beckoned Miranda into the room, a sleeping Shepard on the other side. The reliable doctor gestured towards a small sterile stand, normally reserved for surgical instruments. In their place was a small, black object, no longer than her fingernail, in the shape of a pill. She picked it up, curious. It seemed almost cybernetic in nature. "What… Is it?" She asked tentatively.

"The Master Chief hypothesized its use was to, initially, inject the Commander with a low dosage of histimine directly into his bloodstream to induce anaphylactic shock. The second stage was to release a quick burst of electrical signals that- in combination with the current conditions, stopped the heart. I concur with his first hand analysis."

An eyebrow raised at that statement. That was quite the… observation. It was a little suspicious to be honest – he seemed to know exactly what the thing did. She would resolve to questioning him later. "Doctor, what was your honest assessment of the Master Chief?"

"What do you mean?"

"From your observations, did he seem, suspicious, in any way?"

The good doctor gave her a once over, and paused, seeming to think. "From what I and Yeoman Chambers have been able to gather, the Master Chief is most obviously a professional soldier. Although he has exhibited mildly sociopathic behavior, he seems very much in control of himself. I don't believe he has any ulterior motives. Quite frankly, I am inclined to believe him."

"But why? Don't you think something about this is off?"

"Miss Lawson, there are a million things onboard this ship that are 'off'. The entirety of the crew would fit under that category. Until he has proven himself unworthy of our trust, my assessment is that he is innocent, until proven guilty. He has, so far, done nothing but help, and until he proves otherwise, I consider him a valuable asset.

That was a satisfactory answer, for anyone except for Miranda. She frowned. Something had to be wrong with him. Anything. There was no way someone like that just… happened. The whole situation was so spontaneous. He appeared in the middle of intergalactic space – nowhere – tosses the crew around like a juggler at a state fair, decimates the Blue Suns with little more than an afterthought, and has as much medical expertise as a field professional? No, something was most definitely wrong here, and she was going to find out what. The first step? She had to confront the man himself. He had left, to who knows where. Her thoughts froze along that path, 'he was just wandering the ship!' Of course, they were all distracted, focusing on different things, and he was left independent, no longer a prisoner. But wait… couldn't he have just done that when it was just Vega and Tali onboard?

A small cough interrupted her musings. She looked up, an expectant look from Doctor Chakwas tuned her way. She realized she had for the past few moments, been staring blankly at the doctors face, unmoving and unspeaking, lost in thoughts.

Miranda cleared her throat, and promptly left. There was no way around the awkwardness of the situation. Eventually, someone had to tell him that they weren't exactly in the position to directly take the Chief to earth. They needed an intermediate destination, one that the Commander had supplied days ago. "EDI, where is the Master Chief?" She asked, fully prepared to engage in a gunfight to keep the newcomer away from the Normandy's bridge.

The response had her feet frozen to the deck, not in fear, but rather in confused surprise. "In the cargo bay, although he stopped by the armory to return his weapons taken during the operation." That was rather odd. She would have suspected that after so long spent in the confines of the cargo bay, large as it may be, the big green soldier would have been overjoyed to spend a few more minutes exploring the ship. She sure would have. Her destination was set, and she would have words with their 'guest'.

Before she could set off, Chakwas interrupted, peeking out of the med-bay. "Miranda, while you're going out, could you bring this by Mordin?" She said, holding the small 'pill' up in her hands. "The sooner he gets it, the sooner we can figure out what's truly going on."

Miranda narrowed her eyes at the distraction, then seeing the logic, took the small object and went to proceed to the tech lab, the long conversation ahead forming dread in her already distracted brain.

OOOO

Nobody was more surprised than Garrus when the huge soldier walked into the armory, interrupting a conversation between himself, Jacob, Grunt, and Zaeed. They had been discussing Shepard's well-being, as well as the implications of the latest operation, as, apart from Shepard, no one really knew why the situation had occurred as it did.

As they were discussing said things, a large, armored figure, spattered in so much blood he was a walking mural of mercenary hemoglobin, walked past them, silent as a mouse, and proceeded to lay his weapons on the table beside them.

'Damn', was the thought that entered his mind. 'Nobody so big should move so quiet.' It was an eery feeling, one that set his teeth on edge, 'wait… who the hell let him into the armory?' He moved to speak, laying a hand on the man's arm. The gold visor that stared back at him was silent. "Who gave you access to the armory?"

Before the large man could answer, he was interrupted by Jacob. "I did, Garrus, he asked to return the weapons that he found on Noveria."

Return? Why? He was doing this of his own volition? That would have been the last thing Garrus would have done, captive on an enemy ship. Then again… it probably meant he didn't need his weapons if it came to that.

"…. alright, well um, thanks, I guess." Silence, while the man went back to disarming the weapons, examining them as he lay them on the table. The M-15 Vindicator and M-6 Carnifex were given a cursory glances, as the giant thumbed a control on the assault rifle, and the thermal clip slid out into his hand. Turning it over, he appeared unfamiliar to the weapons, which was unsurprising, considering they were even more unfamiliar with his.

Taking into consideration the large amount of blood coating the soldier, Jacob took a step forward, and asked, "You alright?"

The green being turned to him then, seemed to acknowledge his presence, and then looked down, as if noticing his new paint job for the first time. Looking back up, he replied with a shrug of his shoulders, in his deep baritone growl of a voice. "It's not mine."

And then, just as silent and fluid as he had entered, the man left. Like a ghost.

It took those gathered in the armory a few seconds to get back to their conversation at hand.

"Anyways," went the starter from Zaeed, "Those weren't normal Blue Suns. They didn't recognize me, and I sure as hell don't recognize any of them. Things would've turned out differently if that were the case."

"What did they want? It seemed like they knew we were coming? How?" Was Jacob's response.

"Hehe, fuckton of good that did 'em." Grunt, as always, had quite a different take on the situation. No one was dead, he alone had massacred over a dozen troops, and he got revenge on the bastards that attacked him. Couldn't have gone better.

Ignoring him, Garrus continued the conversation along its prospired course. "I have to admit, the whole situation seems a little too convenient. How did they know we were even coming? It sounded like they specifically targeted Shepard. That wouldn't make sense unless they knew it was going to be us. Who else knew about the mission?"

"Just the crew on the ship, and the Illusive Man," came Jacob, "at least, as far as I know."

"Think your Illusive man would set us up? Seems quite the gentlemen if you ask me." The merc cut right to the heart of the matter. Had the Illusive Man betrayed them? Garrus wouldn't ever have put it past him. He disagreed with Shepard's cooperation with the paramilitary group on several levels.

Jacob beat him to the punch. "I honestly don't think the Illusive Man would sacrifice the crew like that before we take on the Collectors. He's invested quite a lot in our success."

"Yeah, well, he's also invested a lot in the meatheads he seems to throw around on every whim. They ain't nothing but walking krogan baby formulas." There was a shiver that accompanied that thought, it had been more than once that they had seen Grunt dig into an unsuspecting foe, devouring chunks of flesh.

They all did seem to mull over the implications of the previous two statements; however. There was a point. The Illusive Man could very well be a traitorous, backstabbing bastard, but it wouldn't have made much sense, at least, not now. It would've been a waste of resources to eliminate them at this point in time, they were so closed to their goal – the elimination of the Collectors.

"He was pretty convinced about the Prothean beacon… it would've made sense as well. All our evidence really pointed to that being there as well." Garrus mused aloud.

"Okay… who else then? Think there's someone in the crew who could've done this?"

"What about the Master Chief?" Zaeed put his fingers on his chin, seemingly deep in thought. "Big bastard fits the bill."

"How would he have known where we were going? He hasn't left the cargo bay!" Jacob surprisingly came to the defense of the large giant. "Plus, he was the one that got us – and Shepard – out of there."

"Yeah, but we just picked him up a couple of days ago! He attacked us on sight, too." Garrus was quick to jump on this, any attempt he could to get the Chief off the ship was well worth it. He was an enigma, a dangerous one at that, and Garrus felt the longer he remained on the ship, the tougher the situation would be.

"You would've done the same, Garrus. I'm just saying, just like the Illusive Man – why betray us just to save us? It doesn't make any sense." The Turian conceded the point, it didn't make sense. Before he could say anything, the Cerberus soldier continued. "He hasn't had access to any of the data we used to plan the op, there was no way he could've gotten his hands on any of that. Plus, the doors were only opened when meals were delivered, and he was escorted to the bathroom. EDI also says that she's detected no outbound transmissions not authorized by Joker or the Commander. It's gotta be someone else."

"Why are you defending him?"

"I'm not!"

"Yeah, you kinda are," Zaeed piped in.

"What's it to you?"

The merc just shrugged. Then, to the surprise of all those present, Grunt threw in his two cents. "I agree with quads here."

"What?" All heads spun in his direction. They had not been expecting that. Grunt had been, for all intents and purposes, looking to wipe the big human off the face of the planet. Until recently, apparently.

For his part, the krogan just shrugged. "Guy slaughtered a couple dozen mercenaries, we all saw the bodies. He's alright in my book." That sort of made sense, any being from a species that had a slight krogan-like disposition to attack and shred their enemies was usually just as well respected.

"That just leaves the rest of the crew…" It wasn't a pleasant thought that one of their own had betrayed them. It couldn't have been any of the ground team, they were the ones caught up in all of it. That meant someone from the support staff had to be responsible.

"Figures. Cerberus are less than trustworthy. I can't trust 'em half as far as I can throw em."

"Hey!"

The merc simply shrugged. "I'm just saying how it is. You've proven hard to trust in the past."

Jacob moved to refute this when Garrus interrupted, "Look, we don't want to throw anyone under the bus. We don't know who did it, at least not yet. We have our suspicions, but we should talk to Shepard before doing anything. He might have some idea, and maybe there's something else going on. We just don't know. For now, I say we play it cool, alright?"

They all nodded in agreement, it made sense really. Move too soon, they spooked the real traitor. Move too late, more damage would be done. This considered, they still didn't have the faintest idea who the traitor could be.

No one did.

OOOO

Tali had been the first one down to the cargo bay following the incident. It had taken all her nerve just to hit the button on the elevator back to the bottom floor.

She had, until recently, been sitting in the med-bay with Vega and Jack, having recently arrived to check on the wounded, if just for a moment. Although the biotic herself was less than pleasant to deal with on a good day, and Tali took no joy from their current conversation, she still felt slightly guilty for the events of the last day, even though she couldn't for the life of her find out why. After all, she and Vega had been the ones to rescue them, hadn't they?

Vega shifted, groaning softly under his breath. His wound had obviously hurt him more than he let on. It was a clean, in and out hole, with the small exit wound provided with mass accelerator weaponry, however the small size and immense speed of the round had cut right through his body armor, and the heat generated from such friction in the air was enough cause some pretty good damage.

"Last time I ever let Miranda patch me up," he joked halfheartedly, "I'd much rather get shot than go through that again."

"That could be arranged," was Jack's joking reply. She had recovered surprisingly well from the unexpected amputation of her left index finger. She was still pissed as hell, and they had to beware every so often as objects around her imploded in biotic fury as she was hit with phantom pains and the realization hit her. That was overturned at times for comments such as, "you know, that's kind of badass," and, "one more fucking step closer to a Turian. Bird-faced three fingered bastards." She'd be fine. Still, Tali felt bad. She had tried to comfort the biotic on more than one occasion, who had responded in a matter that suited her personality quite well. Tali had since halted her attempts at consolation.

"Vega, what did you do before the Normandy?" Tali asked, suddenly curious. She was a curious creature, the crew had come to find out, thought no one was against this.

He shrugged, "Alliance Marines. I fought the Collectors on Fehl Prime, I'm guessing that's probably why I'm here. Plus, the Alliance knows I hate Cerberus, suppose I'm keeping Shepard in check, you know?"

Jack snorted, "that makes two of us, jackass. Cerberus ain't nothing but a bunch of bitches looking to bend over and fuck themselves." Tali noticed the smirk on Vega's face as she said that, he apparently agreed with her bright statement, but was slightly more mellow in his delivery.

"Why do you hate Cerberus, James? I mean, I hate them too, but why do you hate them?" She asked, trying to inject as much innocence into the question as was physically possible. His eyes narrowed, and he seemed to look far off.

"I had a… bad experience. I met a Cerberus agent once who got a lot of people killed. Good people. He betrayed me and my men, and it turned out in the end he was working for the Collectors. As much as I hate Cerberus, I hate the Collectors more."

Tali nodded, absentmindedly. It made sense, really. In her opinion, Cerberus had never really accomplished anything good. The fact that she, an alien, was present on the vessel, surrounded by other aliens and not being attacked by the human supremacist crew was surprising.

"How long have you been fighting with the Alliance?"

"A couple of years, I joined as soon as I was old enough."

Jack snorted again at the comment, "the hell you'd want to do a thing like that? Those control freaks have you jerkin' them off whenever they want! You fuckers like that sort of thing?"

The marine's eyes narrowed at this. "The Alliance has a lot of good people. They're doing a good thing. You just have a problem with every authority figure. Why are you here?" He asked in turn.

The biotic looked at him, seemed to consider her words, then shrugged. "Eh, wanted to see the fucker's burn."

As the two conversed about their mutual hatred of Cerberus and the Collectors, Their conversation had Tali thinking. Why had she joined? It seemed most of the ship was against Cerberus. That was probably why they all had such a hard time with Miranda. So why did they come aboard on the first place? The answer struck her like a lead pipe. It was Shepard. They all joined because of Shepard. Despite his 'death', he had proven to be more reliable than any other, his dedication to stop the evils of the Reapers and the Collectors was unmatched. But was he as determined to stopping Cerberus as he was to stopping the Collectors? That was the question really. And it was one she'd ask as soon as she was able. Speaking of Shepard, she glanced into the room, the glass walls enabling her to see the unconscious Commander. He looked no worse for wear, the bruises on his face the most significant visible damage. Apparently Doctor Chakwas had removed the object that had stopped the Commander's heart, and so that shouldn't be much of an issue anymore. Now, it was a waiting game.

She took a deep breath before standing. She had been putting this off too long, and she could only delay so much before it became unbearable. The quarian said her goodbyes to the current occupants of the med-bay, and proceeded to the elevators, choosing the option to send her to the bottom-most floor. As the doors closed, she already regretted her decision. The doors took uncomfortably long to open back up again, and before she knew it, she was standing once more to the entrance of the cargo bay. Most notable during this current visit was the lack of guards usually present. It seemed they had trusted him enough to stay put.

She stepped in, freezing as she did so. It only then occurred to her how intimidating the Master Chief really appeared. Over 7 feet tall, built like a tank – probably as strong as one too – and covered in the gore of a dozen enemies, he looked to all the world as a primeval god of war – an ancient and formidable enemy sent to curse those it was set upon.

Her thoughts caught up to her, and she realized she was still staring. She began to walk forward, and instead of speaking, just chose to sit on a nearby crate. The Chief watched her the whole way. He stared for a few seconds, and then, as if realizing no one was going to speak, turned around, and went back to the task at hand – cleaning his armor. Apparently he had spoken with one of the crewman earlier, as he was now using a hose from the supply shelf to wash the blood off his green suit. He was very thorough, and although the armor wasn't quite shiny green, it was certainly a lot more pristine than it had originally been. He began to use a towel to dry and buff the green plates, and as he did so, turned his head to the quarian, as if to ask, 'yes?'

She shifted nervously. She had gotten much better about conversing in front of others, including the crew, but newcomers of such size as this was surely intimidating. She began to speak, focusing on the floor as she did so. "Ijustwantedtothankyouforcomingwithusandhelpingus," she blurted, turning to the creature before her, that seemed to turn and carry on with his actions. Realizing what she said, she took a deep breath and spoke more audibly, "I mean to say… thank you. We couldn't have done it without you."

The gold visor looked back at her, nodded once, and got back to it. Tali frowned. This was harder than she thought it'd be. "If I may… why did you help?" Without looking up, the giant didn't answer, at least not immediately. As Tali reared herself for another question, his response came, short and simple as always.

"You needed it."

It was true. Without him, they would've ended up dead very quickly, and Tali would've been the first to acknowledge it. She was, however; dissatisfied with the answer. "No I mean… you didn't have to help us at all. Why did you?"

The giant seemed to consider this, and then after a few seconds, shrugged and got back to cleaning his armor.

Tali sighed heavily, this was getting frustrating, making no effort to hide said frustration. It didn't seem to bother the behemoth.

She bounced a few more questions off him, questions such as, "where did you really come from?" "What's a Spartan 117?" "How did you get here?" "Can I look at your armor?" "Do you have a family?" She received no answer to any of them. It seemed the Master Chief was done talking. She glared, trying to remember her patience. Never had she been so ignored as she was now.

As she remembered her lost patience during her last escapade to the med-bay, she forced herself to calm down.

She stood up, ready to leave, turning at the last second. "All I wanted to say was… thank you. Thank you for saving my friends." And with that, she turned and left, her legs carrying her towards her favorite position on the ship – the engineering room.

OOOO

Miranda's fists were clenched as she exited the elevator. Her venture with Mordin had taken much longer than she had intended. The seemingly endless questions, some valid, had trapped her in the tech lab. Eventually, with patience lost, she pushed herself out of the room, citing 'important matters' were at hand. Just her luck, she had managed to run into Yeoman Chambers, who politely insisted that the two talk about the obvious stress that the Cerberus operative had been subjected to as of late. A little less politely, Miranda sent her on her way, and began her journey down to her cargo bay.

She almost bumped into a surprised Tali, who simply looked back at her as she turned and left. Her vector had her leaving the cargo bay seconds before she herself would arrive. Miranda supposed it would make sense for Tali to visit – she was the one that had asked for her help, after all. What was a little less welcome was the nonverbal hostility that had accompanied the look. Miranda sighed heavily. She knew most of the crew didn't like her. It wasn't new. She was Cerberus after all. Somewhere, deep inside, she knew it hurt – the dislike – but she shook her head, trying to displace the feeling. She wasn't here to be liked, or to feel. She was here to do a job.

Her feet carried her into the cargo-bay, occupied as it had been for the past few days. The Master Chief seemed to be cleaning his armor, buffing out the blood that had seeped into the cracks. She came and stood, 2 meters from his position, arms crossed and eyes narrowed.

Her first question, blunter than a rolled parchment of hallucinogens, came not long after, her patience wearing thin at the lack of acknowledgment. The forwardness with which it was asked would have made a prostitute blush. "Who are you." Her lack of punctuation in her intonation was placed more in the form of a demand than an actual question.

Her foot tapped absentmindedly as she waited for an answer. It didn't come. It was almost as if he had determined to ignore her. She wouldn't put up with that. "Who. Are. You." She asked, a little less impatiently. The giant looked at her this time, replying with, "Master Chief Petty-"

"I know that!"

"-Officer Spartan 117."

"You've told us. But guess what- that doesn't help. What do you want?"

"To return to UNSC space."

"Why?"

He shrugged in response. She supposed it was a dumb question, of course he was looking to go home.

"Why did you help us?"

He shrugged again.

Her eyes narrowed to slits that would signify to any male, "retreat! Retreat! Fall back! We've been over run – danger close!" The look was ignored.

"You think I care about what happened down there? Because I don't. I want to know whether or not I should throw you off this ship. So you will. Answer. Me. Who are you? - and before you say anything, I don't want to hear any Master Chief Petty Officer bullshit. You are not hiding behind your bloody rank. Let's start with this. What's your name?" She all but ordered.

"1-1-7."

She growled. "You know what I meant. There's no way in hell your name is three damn numbers."

"Classified," came the next response.

The biotic was losing patience fast. She took a deep breath to keep herself from lashing out. She resisted telling him that they couldn't take him to earth after all in order to evoke some sort of reaction, some outburst from the giant. That was technically true, in a diplomatic sense, as the Systems Alliance would shoot down the Cerberus ship they second it entered real space. Probably. "Okay then, 117. If it's going to be classified, then you are going to tell me every damn thing that isn't. Is that clear?" She received a shrug in return, that only served to infuriate her further.

"Spit it out. Why are you here?"

He considered answering her question. Why was he here? He could've easily left. But regardless of whether or not he liked it, he needed them to return to... earth. He could share some information, but, whether she liked it or not, there was very little about himself that wasn't classified. He briefly wondered if that mattered in this new place, then shook his head to clear himself of such thoughts. No change in environment or scenery would allow such a massive breach of protocol.

John then wondered what he genuinely could tell her without breaking said protocol. He was confused on this woman's behavior. He had never, in his life, met someone who so outright demanded he share personal details with him. She wasn't military, that much was sure, but she wasn't really a civilian, either. He had been trained to categorize people on four different assumptions. If they were a fellow soldier, you helped them. If they were a superior officer, you obeyed them. If they were an enemy, you neutralized them. If they were a civilian, you rescued them. This had been the pattern of his life, only deviating on the rarest of occasions. As far as he knew, this woman fell into none of those categories. She was an enigma, and he was hesitant to trust her, especially with borderline clandestine information.

He noted the infuriated expression that the woman wore on her face. He had seen such looks before, from other officers and soldiers that had considered the Spartans to be 'rivals' to their own programs. The Insurrectionists clearly wore their disdain for the UNSC super soldiers on every occasion.

She clearly took the time he used to consider her question as another attempt to outright ignore her, and she stepped closer, having lost it.

Her words were spoken slowly, calmly. He remembered a similar tone a marine, a Lieutenant, had used with a subordinate. Low, calm, yet as aggressive as a juvenile Jiralhanae. It must be a woman thing. "You will leave this ship. The second we make port. If I ever see your face again, you'll regret it. Do I make myself absolutely clear?"

He simply nodded. She was not his commanding officer. He noted her command, and subsequently chose he would do as he thought was best for the situation.

"If said situation improves my ability to make contact with the UNSC, I will do so. Ma'am." And then, as a final middle finger, he turned and finished cleaning his armor.

She stared for a moment, considering blasting this subordinate son of bitch all the way back to Noveria, thought better of it, and then turned around and left. It would be one of the only times someone would deal with the Cerberus biotic in such a way, and she was pissed.

OOOO

As the rest of the day past, Kasumi noticed something rather interesting. Every one was present in the mess hall. This was an unusual occurrence, or at least, it had been for the past few days. There had always been at least people missing for at least a part of the meal. 2 guards, and someone taking food to the Master Chief. She noted with curiosity that this was not the case – with the exception of Shepard and Vega, who were still recovering from the last excursion. This meant, simply, that really, the only person missing, was the Master Chief. This was no real difference compared to normal day-to-day events, as he had never joined the crew for a meal before, largely in part to the fact that they never let him.

Kasumi herself has done her share of investigating. The first time she encountered the Chief had also been the first time that Yeoman Chambers had attempted to 'analyze' the foreign warrior. Initially, she thought that neither had noticed.

She had snuck into the cargo bay seconds before the door was closing, right between two of the guards on duty, who either didn't care she was going inside, or didn't know. Either way, she was content.

Kelly had been just as bad as Chakwas, in Kasumi's opinion. Always, do this, don't do that. It was infuriating for the thief. She lived by her own rules! She insisted to do almost the absolute opposite of anything the 'recommended'. So what if that's childish? What was wrong with that?

"Is there anything you would like to tell the crew, but haven't?" Came the Yeoman's polite question, an effort to assist the newcomer in communication, something that was indeed lacking.

She received a firm "No," in return. Kasumi almost giggled, then remembered she was supposed to stay hidden. She came in behind the big green figure, as silent as she could.

"Would it be okay to ask what you do in your galaxy?"

"I'm a soldier."

The psychologist simply smiled, as if talking to a child. "I know that, I mean besides soldiering. Do you have any hobbies.

The big man simply shrugged. "I don't know."

This reaction caused a frown from the Yeoman, and from Kasumi as well. What did he mean, he didn't know what his hobbies were? That was simple as it got!

"Okay, I believe I understand. Do you have any friends or family waiting for you to return."

There was a hesitation, very brief, but there. "No."

"I'm sorry, that must be hard." A shrug. "The Commander and the crew are good people. We will do out best to help you get back. You can-"

She was cut off as the big man suddenly tensed, and then, like lightning, grabbed the small thief from behind him and held her high in the air, arm raised and cocked to deliver a killing blow. Kasumi yelped, and instantly deactivated her cloaking. The man froze, looked at her very suspiciously. He dropped the woman to her feet, who scrambled backwards, before being berated by the Cerberus psychologist.

"Kasumi Goto! You cannot be here while I am having private discussions with crew members! That is a severe breach of confidentiality. Leave, now!" Both of them watched as she swiftly left the premises, miffed at her detection. She had been surprised with the big man, he wasn't a big dumb brute he made himself out to be.

Now, however, she was more curious than anything. She considered the fact that the big man might be hungry. After all, they had done a lot of fighting. Looking to the others, she could see they were honestly somewhat relieved at not having to take meals down to the cargo bay. They had all been unnerved. It hit her then. No one, not even the thief herself, had actually seen him eat! He had always done so out of sight, even from the observation decks, and somehow, the cameras.

Did he even need to eat? He looked like a robot, and for all Kasumi knew, he was a robot. She frowned at this realization. Normally, this would not be such a big deal. Thane often took meals up to his own quarters, as did Samara. But that was different. Kasumi was going to get to the bottom of this. She promptly stood, leaving her food in place, and exited the room, her destination plain in sight. She was paid little heed as she left, the others too distracted by their own food and conversation. That was just fine for her.

She triggered her cloaking, and hit the button on the elevator, going down. She briefly considered it probably wasn't the best to sneak up on him, seeing the results of his actions earlier on Noveria, but it didn't change her final decision. She walked towards the bay doors – they were already open. Good. That would make sneaking in a whole lot easier. The problem was, the second she stepped into the large room, she felt a pair of eyes, or rather, a visor, glaring at her. She frowned, and looked down. Yes, her cloaking was engaged. Perhaps he heard something? Lucky guess?

She started sliding silently around the circumference of the room, and was slightly nervous as she saw the gold face-plate staring back at her. Could he see her? No, there was no way. Could he hear her? That would be a first. But the whole time Kasumi attempted to sneak in, that large gold mirror never left her figure. She sighed, 'Oh, well', and hit the button to decloak herself. There was no shock of surprise from the other occupant, no movement that showed he was caught even slightly off guard.

She walked straight to him, swaying slightly as she walked. "Hey Chief. Wanna join us?"

A head cocked slightly, confused.

"It's meal time, and I see you haven't eaten. I was wondering if you wanted to come up with us and grab some food?"

He stared for a moment, and as soon as Kasumi was starting to feel awkward, came the answer. A shrug. The Chief stood, and then with a quietness that impressed even the human thief, exited the bay, without a word. Interesting…. But wait, yes! Finally!

OOOO

"Hey Garrus, I heard we're heading to a human colony? What for?" Came Grunts questioning glance. He wanted no detour to his enemies, and they were making a rather large one.

The turian didn't look up from his meal as he answered. "Drop off Master Chief," was the curt reply.

"You know, according to proper english, Master Chief is a rank. You should've said, 'drop off the Master Chief'. The Turian glared back at the offender, the large Cerberus soldier.

"You know, in proper Turian, you just said, 'let me bend over,'" and he was rewarded with a chuckle.

Jacob was in rather good mood. He considered that they were indeed lucky to even be back here, and he was going to make the most of it. As Cerberus operatives went, he had the best relationship with the crew, bar Shepard. They seemed to understand he was a good man. He tried to diffuse many a crew conflict, and it was apparent he was just trying to do the right thing. They could appreciate that. They came few and far between. Miranda was just to loyal to the Illusive Man.

The meal was satisfactory. He had taken a short nap after the events of the past day, it seemed all the crew had. It was about time. As far as the biotic soldier knew, none of them had ever been captured before.

Turning to Tali, he asked, concern dotting his voice, "how's Shepard doing?"

"He's doing alright, just resting with Vega. Hasn't woken up though yet, but Chakwas said it'll be another couple hours. Vega probably can't eat yet with a hole in his gut."

It made sense. Jacob actually liked the Alliance Lieutenant, having fought with the Alliance himself. He could relate to the human crew member, although they shared very different views on Cerberus. Jacob conceded a number of points, and it had grown them into an amiable acquaintance-ship, but not quite friendship.

Jacob nodded his thanks. "How are you doing?" this time directed towards the Quarians well-being. He had noticed a few shaky movements earlier in the day.

"I'm fine really, just shocked. That was close. Too close. And it wasn't even the people we were after, you know? That's what scares me the most, that we haven't even seen the Collector's yet, and we're still almost dying." While he had to agree with that, he knew Tali needed a pick-me-up.

"Hey, without you, we'd all be gonzo. You did really good back there. You should be proud of yourself."

When the young quarian woman responded, he could hear the shy smile in her voice. "Thanks, Jacob. That means a lot."

He simply nodded in return. "So, any bets on Shepard saying anything funny when he wakes up? He'll be on some painkillers, you know."

Tali chuckled, but before she could respond, Zaeed beat her to the punch. "Ha, 50 on him saying some dumb shit about Chakwas."

"70 on him falling off the bed!" Grunt added. He thoroughly enjoyed those opportunities to gamble. If there was anything the Krogan liked from other cultures, it was that.

The rest of the crew smiled, it seemed they were in a good mood too. With the exception of Miranda, who seemed to be grumbling to herself in the corner. Frankly, Jacob was surprised that she hadn't taken her meal to her private quarters, as she usually did. He had known her for years, and the reason he suspected gave him a pang of sympathy for her. Deep down, as genetically enhanced and modified as she was, she still needed friends. Jacob could somewhat relate to that. It was hard to be alone. He had done so for a number of years before meeting the woman.

He opened his mouth to say something, when the room went silent. He looked around for the cause of the sudden quiet, and his eyes instinctively landed on the two figures who entered the mess from the door. Or, more accurately, the one figure who had just entered the mess for the first time. All eyes were upon him as he made his way forward. It was the first time Jacob had really been able to appreciate how damn quiet the giant moved. His armor and size made him look as if he weighed a metric ton, yet he moved with the grace of an alpha-predator. They watched as he made to the front of the room, and grabbed a plate of food. And then, in a phase of melodrama that disappointed the crew, he simply took his tray, and left.

He watched as Kasumi's face fell, almost comically. This had been her moment! It turns out the giant super-soldier would remain unknown for a while longer.

OOO

I wanted to let you understand a few things as I kick this chapter off. I understand the timeline is a little confusing. For lore purposes, its technically somewhere in the middle of ME2 but with a few adjustments, after all, its an AU fanfic. It seems there have been a large amount of stories with a similar theme – Chief joining for ME2, so I didn't really want to mirror those. So, for example, I brought in characters like Vega who could have a simple yet explainable reason for their presence aboard the ship, with adjusted plot points, to keep it familiar, but not bland. I know he isn't in ME2. I'm sorry if that confuses people. Second of all, just because the Illusive Man sent the crew to retrieve MC doesn't mean he knew he'd be there. After all, he did say it was probably reapers/collectors, right?

In regards to Cerberus and the Alliance – they are still enemies, so don't worry. Things will be made clear in future chapters. Let's just say it will be quite the shock when the Chief learns he's been ferried around by a terrorist organization.

Thank you for the reviews! It's helped me adjust a few things as I went back into the chapters, so I appreciate it. I'm trying to fill plot holes to the best of my abilities, while still sticking to my realistic picture of the AU.