Edwards came to with a start. Where was he? The bed was soft and the room was spacious but the last thing he remembered was kneeling to examine Admiral Anderson on the Citadel. Had he blacked out? If so, for how long and how had he gotten here, wherever here was. Something about the room whispered, "Not the Citadel," to him.

For not the first time in last year he paused to wonder if perhaps he had been indoctrinated. He had had regular evaluations, even though his exposure was minimal. He had read the reports that said memories could be altered or shared. Maybe the gap in his memory was the result of indoctrination; something the Reapers did to gain control. It would make sense they would remove memories that could make you realize you were indoctrinated.

Of all the things the Reapers did, indoctrination scared him the most. What he did often required him to trust his instincts. When he wasn't relying on his instincts, he was depending on his reasoning. He wasn't a biotic; his tech skills were what made him a soldier. For now, he decided, he would have to act as if he wasn't indoctrinated, at least until he had more information.

Taking stock of the situation was the place to start. This meant methodically noting everything, whether it seemed important or not. The littlest clues were sometimes the key to solving the biggest riddles. The first clue was that Edwards was no longer wearing his armor. All he was wearing, in fact, was underwear, which appeared to be new. He was not feeling any pain or discomfort physically and found that he could sit up easily.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Edwards scanned the room. The bed was against an outside wall situated between two windows. There were two doors on the perpendicular wall and another door on the wall to his back. Along this same wall was a small desk and his guitar case. "My guitar case," he muttered. "How the hell did my guitar get here?" The fourth wall was a bookcase filled from floor to ceiling with books. Sunlight streamed in through the windows and Edwards thought he could hear waves hitting a shore.

"SAI," he asked, "Are you there?"

"If I'm dead," Edwards thought, "SAI probably won't answer."

"Yes, Commander. I am operational," SAI responded.

"How long has it been since we last spoke?"

There was an uncharacteristic pause. "I am unable to determine the exact length of time. I was off-line for an indeterminate period. Since coming back on-line it has been four hours and twenty-seven minutes."

Edwards sighed. Well, it was something at least, but not knowing how long, or why, SAI had been down made him uncomfortable. "SAI, what can you tell me about where we are?"

"The atmosphere here is suitable for sustaining human life. There is sufficient oxygen in the are and toxic chemicals are within allowable limits. The temperature is 23 degrees Celsius with fifty-three percent humidity. Given our last known location was the Citadel, and the readings I have, it is likely we are on Earth."

Edwards could ask how they got there, but there wasn't much point. If SAI had been off-line until four hours ago, he wouldn't know. Bobby decided it was time to get on his feet and get moving. The fact that he could stand and move easily made another explanation for his current situation unlikely. If he had been in a coma for a long time, and brought here to recover, then his muscles would probably not be this responsive.

He entered the door directly in front of him and found a large bathroom. There was a small whirlpool bath; a large shower with a seat and shelves that had shampoo and body wash; a towel closet, full of towels and wash cloths; and a sink with a medicine cabinet. In the cabinet there were razors and other personal grooming items. No Cision Pro toothbrush but he didn't really expect that; just a couple of standard toothbrushes and toothpaste. He went back out into the bedroom.

The other door along this wall was, as he had guessed, the closet. The closet was bigger than most rooms he had ever had. Suits, dress shirts, slacks, ties; all hung with care. He checked and noted that they all appeared to be in his size. There were also drawers in here and he found running shorts and t-shirts. He picked out a nondescript outfit of dark shorts with grey t-shirt, some socks and running shoes and slipped them on.

Exiting the closet Edwards walked back over to the bed and looked out the window. He was on the second floor and was overlooking a short roof, perhaps covering a small room or deck at the back of the house. The roof appeared to be new and in good condition. Edwards had grown up in a two-story house and his bedroom had been upstairs. There was something comforting and familiar about this view, though his home had not been anywhere near this nice.

The view here was closer to the view he had always dreamed of having as a child. Beyond the roof there was the shore and then a massive body of water. "Can't see land on the far side," he thought. So, there was no way to know if this was just a large lake or an ocean, but there were waves hitting the shore. There were a few clouds in the sky but the sun was shining and the day seem bright and peaceful. Looking out across the water he recalled reading that the Drell associated oceans and the afterlife. If he recalled correctly, the Goddess of the Oceans and Afterlife was Kalahira. SAI had responded to him but maybe SAI would respond to him if he was dead. The old saying was that you can't take it with you when go, but who knew for sure?

"SAI," Edwards asked, "Are my vital signs normal?"

"Your heart rate and blood pressure are slightly elevated but within the acceptable range," SAI responded.

Edwards turned from the window and started toward the other door on the adjacent wall to the closet. He paused, thinking that there should have been birds along the shore, shouldn't there? "No birds? That's odd," he said. That week that they had went to Caribbean there had always been birds along the shore. Then he heard their calls. He turned back to the window to see that there were birds there. Had he just missed them earlier? No, he didn't think so. Part of what made him a good soldier was being able to see and process all aspects of an area quickly. If there had been birds, he would have seen them. Perhaps, then, they had just been further up or down the shore and hearing them coming in is what had caused him to think of them? Maybe, but he noted it as an anomaly.

The bookshelf was sorted by topic. There were books on science and technology; literature and fiction; music and the arts; religious texts; and others. Whoever had put this together must have spent a fortune. Books, real paper books, were rare. Nearly everything today was published via the extranet.

He checked the guitar case and it was his guitar. Music calmed and focused him. Dogs didn't howl when he played and sang, but he was never going to be good enough to make a career out of music. He didn't play for people; he couldn't even recall the last time he had played when someone other than his parents or his sister's family was around to hear him. Claudia had known he played, but he had never played for her.

Opening the last door, Edwards stepped into a hallway and had a sense that someone else was there. He had no weapon, other than himself, so he proceeded cautiously even though he had no sense of danger. There were three other doors on the hallway; two on the right-hand wall and the third at the other end. If he had to guess, the one at the far end was a mirror of his room and the two in the middle would be roughly the same size as each other but less spacious than the end rooms. On the left was a wooden railing overlooking the foyer and stairs leading down. Opening the first door on the right he confirmed that it was a smaller room. Instead of a bed and storage space it had basic exercise equipment, including a weight bench, chin bar, heavy bag, and a speed bag.

Back out in the hall, he walked past the stairs and to the second door on the right. This door opened to a what his mother would have called a guest room. It was too small to be the main bedroom and had no evidence that anyone lived in it. The quilt that covered the bed was heavy and looked hand-made. There was a small chest of drawers, which was empty, and a larger desk than the one in his room.

The final room was largely a mirror of his own, with two significant difference. Instead of a library of books, there was a library of vids. Also, the clothing in this room was tailored to a more feminine frame. Seeing the short red dress, Edwards decided he would forgo looking through the drawers as he already felt like an intruder. He quietly exited the room; closed the door; and walked down the stairs.