Foreword: I do not own Halo or Mass Effect. They belong to 343 Industries and BioWare, respectively.

A Spartan's Light

Chapter 3: Citadel Arrival

"You say that like soldiers and humanity are two different things. Soldiers aren't machines; they're just people."

- Captain Thomas Lasky, Captain of the UNSC Infinity

\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117

Cargo Freighter MSV Solar Winds — en-route to the Citadel

1530 hours — March 5, 2179

John opened his eyes from a dreamless sleep, which was unusual for him either as John-117 or John Martinez. He always had nightmares accompanying him when he slept. He had been sitting perfectly still on a heavy-duty crate in the cargo bay while leaning back against the bulkhead while he slept. If the occasional crewmember was at all disturbed by the unnatural stillness of the now-familiar green giant, they kept it to themselves.

Aria had delivered. The crew of the Solar Winds had been paid off and would keep their mouths shut about their extra passenger when they arrived to dock with the Citadel, but the extra incentive of not pissing off the armored green giant with multiple weapons on his person was also a good motivator.

"Afternoon, Chief," Cortana greeted, her image appearing on his HUD smiling warmly. "Had a good rest?"

John rolled his head from side the side, cracking his neck and loosening his nerves from sitting in the same spot for so long. "Been better. Where are we?"

"Still on our way to the Citadel," Cortana replied. "ETA 1 hour and 15 minutes. I rewrote your armor's firmware while you were out."

"You work fast," John complimented. "Would've usually taken you at least a year to rewrite firmware as rigid as the MJOLNIR's."

Cortana only shrugged. "Give me some credit, won't you?" she quipped smugly. "I am a Metarch-level AI now, after all."

"Don't let it go to your head, Cortana."

"Who, me?"

The Chief's silence at her reply was an answer all in itself, causing Cortana to laugh.

Shaking his head in amusement, John brought up his omni-tool and browsed through the information that Cortana had gathered for him while he was out. With Cortana's new upgrades as well as her software optimizations, his omni-tool, as a result, had a much more streamlined interface, easier tech-power usage such as incinerate and overload programs, and a hacking module that could hack into anything that was networked, even without Cortana — it was essentially a highly sophisticated 'Dumb' AI that she had written up solely for the express purpose of hacking.

As he browsed through the information, John noted that Cortana, as expected of her, had been very busy.

She had managed to book him a secluded apartment on the Lower Wards where it consisted of three bedrooms, slightly expensive but reasonably priced, with a landlord that didn't ask questions as long as his tenants paid their rent. She had also highlighted several key locations all around the Citadel, such as weapons vendors, restaurants, Citadel Security kiosks and outposts, starship dealers, and the list went on. There was also a detailed map of the Citadel, from the Lower Wards to the Presidium — nothing was left to chance under Cortana's watchful gaze.

John had also realized he needed a job, which Cortana wholeheartedly approved. Even though he was currently pretty well off due to Cortana's hacking efforts on those smugglers back on Omega, he couldn't rely solely on killing mercs and slavers for a living — he wouldn't stoop so low as to become a mercenary. He was a Spartan-II supersoldier, not a killer for hire. Besides, he knew that Cortana wouldn't let him become one anyhow.

His armor was also another problem as the MJOLNIR Mark VII, although modified extensively for far easier assembly and disassembly, still needed specialized equipment for John to disassemble. That was why Cortana had found him a larger apartment — they needed a dedicated armory on the Citadel for him to suit up or strip down his armor when needed. The specialized equipment was harder to come by as it technically didn't exist yet, only as blueprints in Cortana's memory, but that was where Cortana's modifications for the omni-tool's fabricator came into play.

By just feeding the fabricator with the right raw materials, Cortana planned to use it to initially manufacture a UNSC heavy fabricator/3-D Printer before reprogramming it to manufacture additional ammunition for John in the field if the situation called for it. She also had plans to construct a slipspace translocation (teleportation) grids in his apartment for easier access to the rest of the Citadel, or any other grids she may plan to construct in the future.

But those projects were still on hold at the moment until they reached the Citadel.

"Here, Chief," Cortana spoke once more, manipulating his omni-tool interface to show another screen. "This is the dossier of the new identity I've forged for you so far. See if you have anything to add to it."

John only nodded as he pored over the information.

It was his life. Well, his life if he was born in this universe. Born on January 17, 2154 (and no, the irony of his birthday coinciding with the number 117 as well as the start of the Human-Covenant War was not lost on him) on a small colony on the edge of the Terminus Systems to a farming family, his family was killed by a slaver raid when he was 12. Joining the colonial militia, he spent several years hopping from one colony to another, defending them from slavers and pirates before finding his way back to Council Space to start a new life.

The dossier also held a falsified medical certificate adapted from his real Spartan-II program medical records, with blood type, genetic information, the works so that hospitals and clinics wouldn't get suspicious. This might just be enough to get C-Sec off his back whenever they checked his identification. Now, they just needed to get it into the system.

All in all, his forged history was pretty solid, and he told Cortana that, earning a beaming smile in return.

With their plans in place, all they needed to do now was wait.

\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/

1 hour 15 minutes later…

Cargo Freighter MSV Solar Winds — Docking Bay E-17

1645 hours — March 5, 2179

The Solar Winds had docked without preamble and had already secured her moorings by the time a team of C-Sec officers had arrived to conduct a thorough scan and search of the freighter for any sort of contraband or suspicious persons and materials. It was pretty much standard operating procedure for any ship that docked with the Citadel, the beating heart of Citadel Space.

At the security checkpoint staffed by C-Sec officers, it consisted of a booth and a scanning suite that checked for any weapons or contraband on a person before admitting them into the station. However, these scanners cannot hope to detect Forerunner shielding or advanced optical cloaking technology as a slight shimmering form stalked past the officers and entered the station, leaving everyone non-the-wiser about the intruder.

"Alright, Chief. First things first," Cortana said as John kept to the shadows, moving from shade to shade, cover to cover while remaining perfectly silent and cloaked all the while as he moved through the crowded Ward. "We need to get your identification into Citadel Security's database. I could try to hack in, but I'm not familiar enough with their systems to be confident that I won't be detected, so you'll have to do this the hard way."

"Understood," John replied. "Where should I start first?"

"Marking on your HUD now," Cortana highlighted a terminal just outside Citadel Security Academy located in the Upper Wards. "I can use this terminal to determine where should I upload the data directly to the mainframe. Stay safe and stay silent, Chief."

"Will do," John said before he fell silent.

Making his way rapidly towards his destination while avoiding crowds and armed C-Sec patrols that Cortana had helpfully marked on his HUD, John finally reached the Upper Wards entrance to C-Sec Academy where the terminal lay. He then simply laid a hand on the terminal, connecting with the memory-processor superconductor layer in his suit to let Cortana do her work.

"Got it!" Cortana exclaimed cheerfully, updating the map on his HUD as well as adding a new waypoint marker. "You can access the C-Sec Database directly from this terminal, located on the Presidium level. Be careful though, Chief — it's Executor Pallin's personal office."

'Of course, it is,' John thought dryly as he began making his way to the upper floors of the Citadel.

The station was much, much bigger than what the game had represented, for the game could not portray the sheer scale of the 40-kilometer-plus station in all its glory. Even though it was a Reaper construction, John had to admire its architecture and the splendor it exuded despite that. For each arm, there was a Ward, and each Ward was as sprawling as the largest cities on Earth back in his own universe, comparable to megalopolises like Downtown-Tokyo of the 26th Century.

The elevators were just as a pain in the ass here as it was in the game. They were obnoxiously slow, the music was terrible, and the commercials didn't help at all. It was thanks to Cortana's sarcastic commentary about the Citadel's elevator speeds and the music that made the ride to the Presidium bearable for the Spartan, as well as the option to mute external sounds in his helmet.

As his cloaked form made its way to where the volus, elcor, and human embassies were located, bypassing C-Sec patrols and civilians alike with his silent footsteps, he eventually arrived at the locked door of Executor Pallin's office. At Cortana's suggestion, John used his omni-tool hacking module on the door for the first time, and it took only a few seconds before the holo-lock turned green allowing him entry.

"You may have just developed the most powerful hacking module in this universe, Cortana," John couldn't help but remark as he entered and relocked the door to avoid suspicion.

"I was bored — sue me," was Cortana's only reply.

Shaking his head in amusement at his partner's antics, John reached the terminal sitting on Pallin's desk before laying his hand on it for Cortana to go to work. She rapidly unlocked the terminal as she sifted through multiple screens and programs before finding what she needed, asking John to activate his omni-tool to begin the upload directly into the database. A progress bar appeared on the screen as it quickly filled past the 30 percent mark and kept on going.

"Why couldn't you just directly upload it on your end?" John asked.

Cortana frowned slightly. "As competent as I am in falsifying information, I can't imitate digital footprints just yet," she replied. "If I directly uploaded the data from my end, C-Sec's systems would immediately detect an intrusion from an unknown source — namely me, an AI. Better be safe than sorry, Chief, until I get the hang of masking my digital presence."

Accepting her answer for what it was, as Cortana was still testing her new limits and exploring new ways to utilize her newfound abilities, John watched as the progress bar moved past 80 percent and was approaching 90 when a complication struck.

"Chief, heads up — Executor Pallin's almost at his door, there's another person with him, also a turian!" Cortana reported urgently. "I'll try to stall him at the holo-lock, but I can only buy a few more seconds at most before he becomes suspicious."

"Roger that, keep me informed," John replied as the progress bar hit 95 percent. "Almost done."

"Hurry, Chief!"

The sounds of an argument coming from outside the door were getting louder and louder, and from the sounds of it, it looked like Pallin was chewing out a subordinate for his recklessness on a case of sorts. He could also hear sounds of confusion when the Executor tried accessing his door and knew he was running out of time.

As luck would have it, as with most of John's exploits, the bar filled to 100 percent, and John managed to close the open screens and lock the terminal just as the door opened with a hiss, with the Spartan's still-cloaked form hightailing it onto the balcony of the office, pressing himself to the wall of the balcony entrance to listen in on the brewing argument.

"That was cutting it way too close, John!" Cortana breathed in relief. "One more second and you would've been caught red-handed, cloaked or not."

"But we did it, that's what matters," was John's reply.

"If I wasn't an AI, I would've died of a heart attack years ago with all the stunts you've pulled!"

Another dry retort. "But you didn't."

"It's just an expression, John!"

John only chuckled at her ire while Cortana continued to rant at his recklessness and his absurd relationship with Lady Luck, which she was still infinitely grateful for.

They were interrupted by Executor Pallin's loud shouting at his subordinate, which to John's surprise was actually a younger Garrus Vakarian. He rolled his eyes fondly at that — Garrus Vakarian, one of his favorite characters in the game, already had a rebellious streak with C-Sec years before he had even met Shepard, which coincided perfectly with his dossier — strong sense of justice but chafing under the metric-ton of red tape on his ass.

"I gave you a direct order, Vakarian!" Pallin shouted. "What would've happened to the hostage if you hadn't been quick enough on the draw? We would've been dealing with the fallout and I for one do not want to explain your actions to the Council!"

"The perp was getting away with the hostage, sir!" Garrus mandibles clicked in annoyance. "If I didn't act, both he and the hostage would've been long gone from the station, and you know it, sir! I couldn't let that happen when I can do something about it!"

"Well said," Cortana commented in his helmet speakers, making John nod in agreement.

Sometimes you have to go off-the-book to accomplish a goal — that was what the Spartans were trained to do, go off-the-books and out-of-the-box with their tactics and strategies. Most of the time, it paid off well with little to no casualties while dealing maximum damage to the Covenant in return.

"Look," Pallin sighed loudly, looking as though he was well used to the detective's antics. "I admire your bravery and passion in your work, Vakarian — I really do. But, as a detective in C-Sec, you are required to follow the procedures set in place for that kind of scenario. They are there for a reason, Detective, so that we wouldn't stoop to the level of the criminals themselves just to apprehend them. That would make us no better than the perps we arrest."

"But sir—!"

"I wasn't finished!" Garrus clicked his mouth shut. "You're a good man, Vakarian, and a good cop. But I need someone that can follow my orders as well as follow the procedures set in place, not by taking the law into his own hands."

Garrus could only glare silently at his feet before his mandibles clicked in irritation. "Yes, sir."

With that, the young detective stormed out of the Executor's office, leaving an unamused Pallin sighing in exasperation in his wake.

As he watched the Executor settle in on his desk to resume his work, John made his way to the still open door, courtesy of Cortana, and silently exited leaving the turian to his work unimpeded.

Pallin looked up at the door when his sixth sense went off, it felt like someone was watching him before he shrugged it off as the door closed, putting away the feeling out of his mind.

The duo's next stop after this little quest was a junk store, where scrap metal and other materials may be found which was perfect for their own purposes. Locating one in the Lower Zakera Wards, John approached the automated kiosk and bought the exact materials needed from it with Cortana's help. Since it was scrap and not much value could be gained from it, an automated kiosk was perfect for this purpose which suited them just fine.

Once gathered, the materials were stored in another invention of Cortana's — slipspace storage modules, where she had utilized the Forerunner's knowledge to create an artificial slipspace domain to store the materials. Mind you, it was unreliable for anything but storage of raw materials, as stored working items were disassembled back into its base materials when Cortana tried it once with a grenade. But, it was a great leap forward in materials storage, so that any weapons or broken items that John didn't need could be essentially 'recycled' in the domain back into raw materials to be used in the fabricators.

Super useful, and a testament to Cortana's mastery of Forerunner technology.

As they needed to accelerate their timetable as the station-board time was nearing six in the evening, they finally decided to check in on his apartment in the Lower Wards next. When he got there, they were greeted by a volus — "Of course, who else could it be?" Cortana had said — with green and brown accents on its environment suit at the front desk. When the volus male looked up at the hulking green giant, he was taken aback a moment before recovering himself admirably.

"What can I do for you," A breath. "Stranger?"

John nodded as he activated his omni-tool, transferring a hefty amount of credits to the volus who's own omni-tool chimed in response. "I am looking for an apartment under the booking name Cortana," he began, modulating his voice with Cortana's help. The volus had checked his omni-tool and was stunned at the credit amount. "Can you show me where it is?"

"Yes, there is one booking… under that name," the volus replied, checking his terminal. "Your identification checks out… Mr. Martinez, a pleasure to meet you at last," A breath. "Any questions about your new apartment?"

"What's the rent here?"

"1000 credits," the volus replied. "Paid in advance at the end of each month. Be sure to come to me if you encounter any problems."

John nodded. "Thank you," he tilted his head to the side. "Need I remind you to keep my presence discreet?"

"Of course not," the volus said with a breath and a shake of his head. "I am running a legitimate business here. It would be bad form to divulge any of my renters their identity and privacy."

"And, even if he did, C-Sec wouldn't believe him anyway, even with video proof," Cortana supplied cheerfully. "I've uploaded a situational malware program into his omni-tool, terminal, and pressure suit. If he gets any funny ideas, all mentions and videos of you are immediately corrupted and cannot be presented as evidence or sold to any information broker," Her face was incredibly smug. "And in the end, many would declare him insane and chuck him into an asylum for seeing things. You needn't worry about anything, Chief."

"You've always thought of everything," John replied, muting his outward speakers. "I didn't know you can be so vindictive."

"It's my job to protect you, John. In any way I can."

John nodded at the volus. "Thank you."

"You are welcome, Earth-Clan," the volus landlord replied. "By the way, my name is Janek Barun."

He picked up the keycard to his room and walked into the apartments, taking care to avoid the cameras by cloaking before he finally reached his new apartment. Sliding his keycard which unlocked the holo-lock, John then registered the card's electronic signature to his omni-tool before he entered.

As Cortana had stated, it was a three-bedroom apartment, with a living room with a connected kitchen area separated by a bar table. The kitchen had all the basic necessities, the living area had a couch, a coffee table, a holo-screen, a loveseat, and a large floor-to-ceiling window that showed the Zakera Ward streets and nightlife.

After locking the door with an encryption of Cortana's making, he also had her sweep the apartment for bugs, finding none but Cortana still sent out a light EMP pulse from John's armor just to be safe. Moving towards the hallway that separated into three bedrooms and two bathrooms, John moved towards the middle room and entered it, finding it fully furnished with a single bed, a closet, a desk with a small holo-screen, and a connecting bathroom.

"Think this will do?" John asked.

"It's perfect," Cortana replied, clapping her 'hands' with delight. "Let's get to work, John. We'll need this space clear."

And so, for the next few minutes, John rearranged the small bedroom to be repurposed into an armory, with the single-bed moved to the guest room along with the closet and holo-screen. From the guest bedroom, he had hauled the room's desk to connect with the existing desk so that he could place his second appropriated omni-tool on it. Having already preprogrammed it, Cortana immediately set to work fishing raw materials from her domain to start fabricating the parts she needed.

Leaving her subroutines to continue her work, Cortana suggested he fabricate a small, specialized tool to help him remove his armor.

Doing as she suggested, John went through the slow process of removing his armor piece by piece, starting with his arms followed by his legs before moving on to his torso. The entire process took about a half-hour, before John was left in only his black gel-filled titanium-Forerunner-alloy armored bodysuit. This part was the easiest to strip, leaving the supersoldier as naked as he was born, much to the unending teasing from Cortana with John retorting wryly with a noticeable flush to his cheeks before he went for a long, hot, and relaxing shower.

After finally scrubbing away to detritus from his time in the suit as well as Omega's filth — he swore the smell from it was still lingering on his skin even after he had washed up — John changed into the only clothing he had brought from Sanctuary; a black tee-shirt and grey cargo pants and black combat boots, all kept in a small compartment in the MJOLNIR.

After putting away his armor onto a neat pile in the new armory, he stowed away all of his weapons except for the Magnum which he had tucked into his waistband while concealing it with his shirt, John was about to remove the integrated omni-tool from his armor when Cortana chimed from her data chip which he held in his hand.

He held the data chip up just as Cortana's form appeared from a pinprick of light, cocking a hip as she flared her dress.

"The fabrication process is complete," she reported.

"That was quick," John commented, moving towards the desk where all the fabricated parts were located in multiple pieces. "So, what do I need to do?"

Cortana grinned. "Thought you'd never ask."

And so John spent an hour in his new apartment as Cortana walked him through a step-by-step process in assembling a standard UNSC Heavy Fabricator. It was about the size of two vending machines arranged in an L-shape where the horizontal part was the largest and longest as it was where the main fabrication was done. The shorter vertical part was the computer interface where the preset designs were chosen as well as its fabrication parameters before starting the process. It was also where the raw materials were processed via a chute near the top of the vertical part, which Cortana had added a slipspace storage module to directly deposit raw materials into the fabricator.

Once the assembly was complete, John looked over at his handiwork, slightly proud of himself. With power connected directly from his armor, the heavy fabricator would be good to go as soon as Cortana gave it a preset design. This arrangement however was hopefully temporary, but it could be here on a permanent basis if they decide to remain on the Citadel full-time.

"I've already reprogrammed your other omni-tool for your use," Cortana reported cheerfully as she had requested him to plug her into the fabricator's systems. "Take it when you go outside. I'll still be with you on comms every step of the way. Have fun, John!"

John merely shook his head in amusement as he attached the omni-tool to his left arm and headed out, waving his hand in goodbye to Cortana without looking back.

As he headed out onto the street, John remembered that Cortana had suggested that he get a whole new wardrobe for himself instead of his usual standard-issue UNSC Navy-Working-Uniforms. Unable to resist Cortana's prodding as well as her constant nagging later if he didn't comply, John's next stop for the night was to one of the clothing stores in the Zakera Ward which sold all kinds of human outfits as well as others.

Entering the store, John noticed the store's clothes were also sold according to their eras, but he was skeptical about there being any clothes from the 26th Century. He then spotted an elderly human in his late fifties look from the counter to smile warmly at him.

"Welcome to my humble store!" the man greeted warmly.

He ambled around the counter to shake John's hand, who shook it firmly.

"Sir," John said quietly.

The older man smiled. "See anything you like here?"

John looked around as he browsed through the selection. "I'll let you know when I find some — now, I'm just looking around."

The man then noticed John's facial scars, although not many, they were noticeable. This turned his gaze towards the younger man's biceps and forearms, where healed plasma burns and holes from needler rounds pockmarked his muscled arms. "Damn, son. You looked like you've been through hell and back."

"Something like that," John replied quietly, remembering where he received each and every one of those scars.

The older gentleman nodded sympathetically as he noticed the faraway look in John's icy blues. "My son is in the Alliance y'know, he gets that look in his eyes sometimes as well," the man said, making John look up at the older man curiously. "He took part in the Raid on Torfan last year — he wasn't the same after that."

John nodded as well, having heard of the raid as well from both extranet sources as well as his own memories of the game.

"Take all the time you need, son." The shopkeeper said gently.

John only nodded with a small smile before he went deeper into the store. He found shirts, jeans, and slacks to his liking as well as several clothes that were more suitable to this time period, but he mostly stuck to his favorite default — black shirt, grey or dark blue cargo pants, or slacks. He also grabbed two extra pairs of combat boots from the racks so that he wouldn't be stuck with his only pair if something were to happen to them. Noticing a large duffle bag on one of the shelves, he stuffed his selection inside before heading towards the counter to pay up.

He paused however when he noticed a dark-blue jacket with a white eagle-like emblem on its shoulder path, and John couldn't help but see the resemblance between the emblem and Blue Team's emblem. John couldn't help but smile in remembrance of Blue Team — Linda-058, Kelly-087, and Fred-104. They were his family, his friends, and his closest teammates. Even as John Martinez he had admired the strength and skill of Blue Team alongside their leader the Master Chief.

Now, he had his own memories of the fun-loving Kelly with her razor-sharp wit, Fred's imitation sounds that always earned him good-natured ribbing from his friends, and Linda's calm and quiet nature — even quieter than himself at the time. John couldn't help the feeling of nostalgia as he took the jacket, staring at the white-eagle emblem before he put it on. He also took a cap to help better hide the neural implant at the back of his head.

Handing his purchases over to the older man, John nodded at his selection. "How much for all of these, sir?"

The old man smiled at him, showing off his white teeth. "All these would normally cost you 80,000 credits, but by seeing such a respectful young lad, I'll drop it to 50,000 just for you."

John pulled up his omni-tool and transferred the requested amount, but he threw in an extra 10,000 credits as well. "That's your commission," John said when the older man tried to reject his payment. "For being such an incredible person. Thank you, sir."

John then grabbed his new duffel bag and exited the store, but not before sending the old shopkeeper a thankful wave before walking away and blending into the crowd — well, as well as he could at least with his pale skin, icy blue eyes, and 6-foot-10-inch frame. More than once, he received gawking stares from the people around him, both human and alien, as he was almost as tall as a krogan despite being human, not to mention his pale appearance startling quite a few of them as well.

'I need to get out in the sun more,' he thought idly to himself as he arrived back at his apartment.

Returning to his apartment, John went to the master bedroom and started putting away his new clothes when Cortana piped up from the armory as well as from his omni-tool comm. "Welcome back, John!"

"Good to be back," John replied as he put away a pair of slacks. "You sound cheerful — had a fun time fabricating?"

"Oh yes, definitely," Cortana replied emphatically. "With the new fabricator up and running, I was able to construct a new miniaturized reactor similar to the one in your armor as our apartment's separate power unit, so that you won't have to connect your armor with the fabricator every time we wanted to make something."

"Good thinking," John commented. He hadn't even thought of that. "It would be a shame if I had to power down my armor every time we fabricate. Something tells me that's going to get very old, very quickly."

"Agreed," Cortana replied with a grimace before she chuckled. "I also built a new holo-table for my use as well and I am now thinking of a way to quickly and efficiently have you wear your armor. I'm thinking to further modularize the MJOLNIR, as impossible as it sounds right now, but hey — you'll never know until you try, right?"

"Does that mean I won't have to fabricate a dedicated armor stripping system like the one we saw in the UNSC Infinity files?" John asked.

"If I can figure the math out, you won't even need it with what I'm planning for you," Cortana remarked. "But build it just to be on the safe side."

"And my weapons?"

"I'm thinking of using the slipspace domain to materialize your armor or generate weapons for you, but I think the latter idea is a lost cause," Cortana said wistfully, and John could imagine her shaking her head. "This is different than the Forerunner Domain from back home, as this one was made entirely by yours truly. The principles are similar, but the implementation is vastly different."

He heard her sigh over the comm as he put the last of the clothes away. "It can only hold whole parts like the MJOLNIR's chest plate, back plate — whole parts. But with weapons having multiple different parts I'm afraid that, even with my processing power, it would take a long time for me just to reform even a Magnum from the slipspace domain." Cortana furrowed her brows in concentration as her mind streamed with incomprehensible amounts of data. "Forming your armor was already hard enough. I'm not even sure I can reform the delicate fusion-hypermatter reactor, let alone the other moving parts of the MJOLNIR. I have my hands full as it was — no need to add to the pressure, Chief."

"Sorry," John apologized sincerely.

While it would've been useful, he knew by just getting to literally 'summon' his armor from slipspace into realspace was already advantageous enough, even if it was still a work in progress. No need to look a gift horse in the mouth, as the saying went.

A sigh came from Cortana. "I know John, but I'm just slightly stressed out," Cortana snorted. "I'm beginning to regret having real emotions — at least when I was imitating them I can shut them off for a time to concentrate on my work."

"But you won't," John stated knowingly. "Because you enjoy the feeling of emotions too much — it's like killing a part of yourself now."

Cortana sighed loudly, groaning pitifully causing John to chuckle. "I know, that's why it's so annoying! I don't want to have it distracting me, but I can't live without it now! Everything would feel so dull!" she lamented. "And besides, someone needs to keep your spirits up, even if it is from an AI."

"You're more than just an AI, Cortana," John said seriously as he walked back into the armory, seeing Cortana's avatar floating above the newly constructed holo-table. She was looking at him with an expression he couldn't identify. "You're my best friend, the truest sister I ever had. You're never just an AI to me, Cortana — even compared to my Spartan brothers and sisters, you are so much more."

There was a moment of shocked silence as Cortana stared at her Spartan with a flabbergasted expression. But with her being her, she recovered quickly before shooting John a beaming smile as 'tears' formed in her eyes.

"Thank you, John," She said warmly — sincerely. "Thank you so much."

"No problem."

She sighed happily. "I'm so happy that you have emotional and social experiences," she said. "If you were still the old John, I think you would've stopped functioning outside of a military environment. Thank the Librarian for small miracles, I was kind of worried about that — my primal, automaton Spartan not adapting well to civilian life."

John could only nod at that, well aware of the fact that he was distant and somewhat cold in his previous interactions. All Spartans were like that he supposed, due to their training and upbringing which he could understand but still felt a bit bitter about the whole thing. What would've happened if a Spartan decided to lay down his guns in peace? How difficult would it be for them to reintegrate into civilian society?

The answer? Very damn hard — almost impossible, and John figured it was meant to be that way for a reason when ONI had trained them, to be humanity's sword and shield until the day they died. Suddenly, he wasn't too fond of the beloved Dr. Halsey anymore, even if he understood her reasoning.

"Enough about that," John smiled lightly at Cortana's avatar. He gestured to the clutter around the armory where she had tried to arrange with the fabricator assembly arms. "Where do you want these?"

After another half an hour rearranging the mess, and with Cortana leaving a subroutine to continue fabrication of other useful items from the raw materials they had stored, John yanked her data-crystal from the holo-table and reinserted her back to his neural interface while wearing his cap to hide the glow. He then went back out onto the streets to find something to eat at Cortana's urging.

A filling dinner of, surprisingly, Japanese cuisine from a stall in Zakera Ward, John made his way towards one of the more secluded shops on the Lower Zakera Wards Market via the rapid transit system. He needed a place to work full/part-time, and to familiarize himself with this universe's 22nd Century, ranging from customs, culture, and most importantly, weapons and other useful technology that 26th Century humanity in the Halo-universe hadn't developed yet.

And they had decided, through common agreement, that John get a job with a weapons store that dealt with customized or exotic weapons with fairly reasonable prices. And that was what led him towards a shop with the sign that read "Kvek's Munitions & Armors" and a large krogan fiddling with a field-stripped pistol behind the counter.

As John entered the shop, he got a better look at the krogan.

He had multiple scars running down the side of his face and hump, as well as a healed deep laceration on the side of his neck that John could make out. His blue-narrow eyes were like a typical reptile but hardened with age and experience. His scales and plating were a light mix of grey and aqua. Both John and Cortana immediately pegged him as a former krogan warlord. Correction, Cortana remarked to him after her biometric scans, he was a krogan battlemaster judging by his eezo nodes, and probably one of the last hundred or so of his kind.

Like a certain krogan bounty hunter that John knew from back home.

The krogan looked up at the surprisingly tall and broad human entering his store. Hells, he was almost as tall as a typical krogan — no small feat. Setting down the pistol he was working on, he stood with a grunt as he looked at the human's icy blue eyes. One look into the human's eyes told the krogan everything he needed to know.

This human was dangerous.

"Welcome to my shop, human," the krogan greeted pleasantly with the deep tone that his species was known for. He gestured to the lines and racks of weapons around his shop. "See anything you like around here?"

John took a look around, impressed by the variety of the weapons on sale. Sealed behind bulletproof transparent cases, although John wondered who was even stupid enough to steal from a big-ass krogan of all people. "I've heard that your shop tailors customized orders," He turned to look at the krogan in the eye. "I'm looking to ask you to do something… unusual for me. Something specific."

The krogan raised its eye ridge. "Yes, I do custom jobs from time to time — for the right price," He narrowed his eyes slightly. "How specific are you talking about here?"

"Here," John replied as he reached for his Magnum. "This should help you get an idea."

John held both his hands up to show that he was unarmed, already seeing the krogan tense at his movement. Being as open and non-threatening as possible (well, as non-threatening as his 6-foot-10 frame allowed him to be) as he reached inside his jacket pocket to retrieve his sidearm. Seeing the krogan still tense while watching his every movement, John merely held out his pistol, removed the magazine from it before racking the slide to eject the chambered cartridge.

Seeing the krogan relax slightly, John laid it all out on the counter, letting the krogan examine it in detail. The krogan picked up the Magnum, examining the firing mechanism before putting it back down to pick up the 12.7x40 mm, .50 caliber pistol round in his fingers.

"Ammo fed, recoil-operated, non-mass accelerated munitions," the krogan commented in disbelief. "Still uses chemical propellant of all things. Where the hell did you get this, and in such a pristine working order?"

John decided to fib a little. "My friend helped me design it," It was technically true after all, as Cortana did have a hand in fabricating his weapons. "Works just as well against kinetic barriers, and punches through armor hardsuits quite easily because of the larger round." He then gestured towards the pistol round that the krogan held. "The typing also helped — it's chambered with Semi-Armor Piercing High Explosive rounds, all caseless, perfect for both armored and unarmored targets alike."

"Impressive," the krogan shopkeeper said, impressed by what this small pistol could potentially do. "So, what do you need from me?"

"I like my weapons as it is, so I was wondering if you can make more ammunition for my weapons," John elaborated. "I also have an assault rifle and a battle rifle with two separate ammunition types, and more weapons of the same build on the way. How much will it cost me?"

The krogan thought for a moment, slowly rolling the pistol round between his fingers before nodding. "40,000 credits per ammo crate, clips, and ammo."

John tilted his head to the side, clearly searching. "18,000 credits and a job," he countered. "I'm currently looking for one after arriving here. I don't think I can fit in anywhere else."

The krogan merely looked at the human before he snorted. "I couldn't possibly imagine why," The human was definitely an anomaly. As tall as he was, not to mention his skin tone, the last thing that came to mind was 'fitting in'. "You know your weapons, human?"

"I know my way around one if that's what you're asking," John replied calmly. "I've been known the use any and all weapons around me no matter the type and make, as long as it can shoot and kill then I'm fine with it."

The krogan thought for a few more moments before he nodded. "20,000 credits and you start next week Monday, 0900 hours Station Time."

"Deal," John replied as he clasped forearms with the large krogan, who was pleasantly surprised at the strength of the human.

"You know I could easily fabricate the ammo for you, right?" Cortana asked directly through his neural interface.

"And use up the raw materials needed for other projects?" John countered, earning a hum of agreement from Cortana. "Besides, as you said, I needed a job, and working at a weapon shop suits me just fine. And if I get more ammo out of this, then all the better."

"Finally, I get some more help around here," the krogan lamented, earning a raised eyebrow from the tall human. "Usually customers avoid this place like the plague just because a krogan runs it."

"I don't know about that," John mediated, looking around at the lower-than-usual prices around the shop. "I'm surprised that there aren't more people coming to your store what with the prices you're offering here."

The krogan grunted in agreement. "The name's Urdnot Kvek," he introduced himself.

"Johnathan Martinez," John nodded back politely. "But please, just John is fine."

"John it is then,"

"You looked like you did some serious damage back in the day," John commented looking at Kvek's scars.

Kvek huffed in amusement. "Back in the day," He shook his head. "I may have fought in the Rebellions, but that doesn't mean I can't teach you youngsters a thing or two on the battlefield." He then eyed John's own scars as well as his icy blues. "What about you? You looked like you've seen some action as well. Alliance?"

John nodded. "You can say that," He picked up his M6D, reloaded the mag, and chambered a round before slipping it back into his inner jacket pocket. "Mostly mercs, pirates, and the occasional bounty hunter. I was part of a small Alliance colony before it was raided by slavers and pirates, joined the local militia to lend a hand," His tale came out as easily as breathing, which slightly bothered the Spartan but he put it out of his mind. "Even fought a krogan once on Omega, Blood Pack mercs if I wasn't mistaken, which was interesting."

"Bloodthirsty, dishonorable whelps," Kvek growled lowly. "That's what the younger krogan had devolved into, as bounty hunters and mercs for hire. None of them even care enough about the homeworld and the krogan as a whole to give a damn anymore," He looked up at John. "How'd the fight go?"

"What do you think?" John said with a slight smirk, earning a deep chuckle from the old krogan.

"You've got a quad, John — I can respect that!" Kvek said, moving around the counter to slap John on the back. If John were anyone else, he would've toppled forward then and there at the krogan's strength. "I can see it in your eyes and the way you moved when you entered my shop. You have the eyes of a seasoned warrior and you hold yourself like one as well, ready to pounce at a moment's notice. Those scars definitely help, as the saying goes, 'chicks dig scars', or whatever you youngsters say these days."

"He's right, we definitely do," Cortana chirped helpfully, causing John to roll his eyes.

Kvek chuckled. "You and I are going to get along just fine."

The krogan then turned to walk back to the counter, gesturing for John to follow him as he led him into the back of the shop. John noted that it was filled with ammo and weapon crates, disassembled weapons, armor, and parts along with their associated tools and materials. There were also worktables set up to upgrade or modify weapons and armor as they saw fit.

And working at one of these tables was a person that John recognized as a female quarian with blue and purple accents and designs, with several burgundy red lines on her enviro-suit with an opaque, blue-tinted visor, her luminescent eyes shining through the helmet. She looked up from her welding of a sniper rifle on her workbench when she heard them approach, setting the blowtorch in her hands down and readjusted the tinting of her helmet visor to look up at them.

"Jaana, meet your new coworker, our new hire," Kvek said to the quarian.

The quarian named Jaana held a three-fingered hand out for John to shake, which he carefully did as to not break her hand with his enhanced strength. "Hi there, the name's Jaana'Sholl nar Moreh. Pleased to meet you." She had to look up at him. "Wow, you're very tall for a human. And pale."

"The pleasure's all mine, the name's Johnathan Martinez — John for short," John replied calmly with a small smile. "And yes, I do get that a lot. I've gotten used to it already. And, pardon me for asking judging by your name, are you on your pilgrimage?"

Jaana looked surprised at that. "You know about the pilgrimage?"

With Cortana mentally patting him on the back, John nodded. "Yes I do, it's the quarian's rite to adulthood isn't it?" As the quarian nodded, he continued. "I've been doing a bit of reading in my spare time, learned a lot about the different alien cultures throughout the galaxy. It's honestly fascinating to me to learn about them next to my own."

"That's understandable, applaudable even," Jaana replied as she nodded. "Not a lot of people are as open-minded as you are about our species, even among your fellow humans."

John sighed, leaning against one of the empty workbenches as he crossed his powerful arms. "People fear what they do not understand, and their natural response to that fear is with violence and hate."

John remembered the bitter rivalry between the Spartans and the ODSTs just because he couldn't control himself in a spar against 3 troopers, leading to them being permanently incapacitated and breeding the hate and distrust against the Spartans ever since. Even most people in the UNSC regard them as automatons rather than human beings, garnering hate and awe in equal measure.

"I have enough experiences of my own, as well as during my travels throughout the Traverse to know which ones are rooted in ignorance, and which ones that are rooted in cruelty and prejudice," John continued, looking to the side at Kvek who was listening silently. "And because of my experiences, I've grown… sympathetic to the people that had it rough out in the verse."

Kvek narrowed his blue-slitted eyes at John's knowing look. "So, you know what my people have been through?"

"Yes," John said vehemently, narrowing his eyes slightly. The effect was slightly terrifying to behold by the others in the room, krogan included. "The genophage — a biological fertility plague developed by the salarians and deployed against the krogan by the turians. In my opinion, it was an act bordering on a war crime. The krogan may have expanded beyond their control, but the Citadel Council should've advised caution, or better yet, never uplift the krogan in the first place despite the Rachni Wars." He shook his head sadly at the senselessness of it all. "You were not ready as a species during that time, no offence to you Kvek. The krogan are proud warriors, and they have the right to be that once more for the crimes they had paid for over 1,400 years."

There was a long silence after John's speech. His Spartan brothers and sisters would've been laughing if they saw him now, the taciturn and distant Master Chief giving out speeches like a seasoned General or Admiral. He would know as Cortana was laughing at him now, right into his neural net, about that very same thought.

Jaana looked stunned, but she was looking at Kvek's silent form, slightly frightened of his reaction to John's words. She was contemplating leaving them alone to take cover from the inevitable explosion from the krogan when the unexpected happened that completely shocked her.

The krogan laughed, long and hard.

Jaana looked on awkwardly, still mildly terrified while John merely grinned softly at the old krogan's mirth. After nearly two minutes of non-stop cackling and wheezing, Kvek took a deep breath before smirking at the human.

"Heh, a someone who finally gives a shit," he began, walking forward before clasping forearms with John which the man gladly returned. "Never thought I'd see the day. I knew there was a reason I liked you John, and you just proved it once again."

John shrugged. "We are who we choose to be Kvek, and the universe can still surprise you more each and every day," He nodded at Kvek before he turned to smile gently at the relieved Jaana. "Besides, I think I've already established that I am no ordinary human. The height and my skin tone kind of gives it away."

His dry wit merely sent the other occupants in the room into another fit of laughter, with John joining in a while later with his own more subdued chuckles.

"So," John cracked his neck before rubbing his hands in anticipation. "What will I be working with here?"

And so, Kvek and Jaana spent the next few hours until midnight station time walking him through what he would be required to do at the shop, his tasks ranging from weapons and armor maintenance, modifications, fabrication, to custom orders such as building new weapons or forging new hardsuit armor. On a weekly basis, the shop would be receiving a new shipment of arms from Kvek's suppliers that were in need of modifications or adjustments before being put on sale.

And seeing as how John would be working out of the shop, Kvek decided to deduct the payment needed for the crate and clips needed for the ammunition John had ordered. It would take three days to gather the right materials, and another three days to fabricate them all in time for delivery next week, which John and Cortana thought was quite fast considering the fact that chemical propellant rounds hadn't been used in centuries according to the krogan.

After hearing this from Kvek, John immediately asked Cortana to wire the 60,000 credits necessary to the krogan for him to start work on the ammo for his pistol, assault rifle, and battle rifle. He left the shop, feeling quite satisfied with his purchases as well as making two new friends in this universe which was always a plus in his books.

As he made his way back to his apartment, John couldn't help but wonder what the future would bring in the next few years. He and Cortana, courtesy of his own experiences, knew that everything would begin going to hell in 2183, and it would all come to a head in 2186 when the Reapers made their return to the Milky Way. He had just under four years to lay the foundations for humanity and this universe's survival against the onslaught that was the Reaper war machine, and John swore that they would be ready, come hell or high water.

After all, John-117 and Cortana were sent here for a reason.

John knew that Shepard would win, with or without his help. But, the Spartan knew that too many lives would still be lost in the struggle, especially during the opening hours of the Reaper War, and John hoped that his and Cortana's work here would mean that far fewer lives would be lost to the Reapers with a warned and prepared galaxy bracing against their onslaught. The Citadel Council's inaction, Cerberus's ambition, the Collectors — he took a deep breath at that.

One problem at a time, Spartan. One problem at a time.

"Chief," Cortana said softly into his neural net, having detected the unusually high brain activity in her Spartan. "What're you thinking?"

John sighed as he made his way into the lobby of his apartment building. "Too many things I guess," he admitted. "Getting humanity and the galaxy prepped and ready for an invasion. The Citadel Council. Cerberus. The Terminus System Factions. It all seems so overwhelming, and I'm doubting we could accomplish them all."

"Chief—no, John," Cortana called, making said Spartan pause in his thoughts. "We will figure this out, John. We always do, so don't worry too much about it. We start small and work our way up the ladder, one day at a time Spartan," John could feel her smiling warmly at him. "Just like we always do. Together."

Cortana was right, John thought with a sigh. One day at a time, just like the War against the Covenant. Tomorrow's problems can wait for the moment, for now, he would take her suggestion and start small. He smiled softly at that — what would he ever do without her?

"Together," John agreed. "Thank you, Cortana. I'm so glad that you're with me, every step of the way."

Cortana only beamed. "And I always will."

\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/\\/

And DONE!

Another chapter finished with my brain just spewing words at me lately. I repeat I am on a roll ladies and gents! Thank you for the support you have given me for this fic, and I hope you guys were staying safe and sound during these trying times.

Now, notice several similarities between this chapter and Crysis Effect's. Yeah, the krogan warlord shopkeeper and the shy quarian best friend was too good to pass up, and I included my own pair in this story. A bit unoriginal, but I have a feeling they are going to be so fun to write!

Next chapter, we will have John and Cortana embarking on something big soon. Very big, like galaxy shaking proportions, as Spartan-117 is going to become an urban legend in the Mass Effect Universe, his story used to frighten children in a cautionary tale about the evil of slavery, and what would happen to slavers out in the Traverse raiding colonies as he wages a one-man war against Hegemony sponsored slave operations and worlds.

Join me in the next installment of A Spartan's Light!

This is HEIROFROHAN signing off,

PEACE!

Revised as of 21/12/2021