A/N:

To Eromancer – Yeah, I know. I just wanted to establish his presence into the complete unknowns of the MEverse first. As for the lady issue, Filipinos are by nature conservative fellows. Whenever there's a woman involved, we always show restraint, respect, and shy awkwardness. Blame the Spaniards for embedding that into our heads after three hundred and thirty years of being colonized under their rule.

To Endrius333 - thanks bro, I will. :)

For now, I give you chapter four. Enjoy!

August 9th 2183 C.E.

Ferris Fields

After Therese's departure from the room, Rodriguez cautiously delved in to the datapad. It was like one of those iPad things back at home, where people were willingly spending huge sums of cash just to get one of those things. Damn things weren't even worth the cost. He gingerly grab the thing and set it in front of him, accessing the interface until it showed him the menu. Let's see…Settings…Games…Omni-tool sync…Ah-hah! Databases. He gained access and started sifting through all of the information inside the datapad's memory banks. First things first, whatever happened to my country…He typed in, "Republic of the Philippines" and pressed, "Search".

He was rewarded with a single result: "Federated Philippine States." Okaaay. He accessed it and was rewarded with a picture and a brief summary on the subject.

"The Federated Philippine States is a federation of semi-independent republics that are composed of the territories of the Philippine Archipelago, Borneo, some parts of Indonesia and Malaysia, and majority of the Spratly Islands…" He reread the part again, making sure if he was reading it right. Since when did we get parts of Indonesia and Malaysia? He wondered for a brief moment, then kept on reading.

"…After the Sino-Filipino War of 2013 that resulted in a Filipino victory after the Chinese defeat at the battle of Palawan, and a brief but decisive naval engagement during the Jakarta Incident of 2027 at Sulu Sea which also resulted in the defeat of the combined navies of Malaysia and Indonesia; the Federated Philippine States was officially proclaimed on the 13th of April 2031, combining all the territories of the old Philippine Republic into a federation. The state was considered a superpower, second only to that of the United States of America…"

Well, whaddya know, looks like we won after all. He thought for a moment, then smiled. He was happy, besides the fact that despite their failure during the battle for Scarborough Shoal, despite the sacrifices of his friends and brothers from which he thought was in vain, his country rallied and kicked the Chinese right in the ass. He grinned at that image. After reading about his country for a few minutes, a brief paragraph at the end of the summary caught his attention.

"…the Federated Philippine States is also a founding member of the Systems Alliance Charter, which unified all of humanity's political, military, and economic bodies into a single, supranational entity that represented all of mankind after the discovery of the Prothean data cache on Mars during 2153…"

He kept on reading for the better part of what seemed like an hour or so, learning about the Protheans, the Systems Alliance, the First Contact War with an alien species called the turians, and the eventual ceasefire that was put in effect after the Galactic Council intervened, mediating for both sides. After that, humanity was basically lunged at the galaxy's doorstep, meeting several alien races besides the ones they fought: like the blue-ish, mono-gendered and graceful asari; the amphibian fast-paced salarians with their hyper metabolism; and of course, the avian looking and warmongering turians.

He also read on parts about something called "mass effect fields" which made faster-than light travel possible with the use of "element zero" or "eezo", which decreased or increased an object's mass depending on its application. Whatever that was. This all feels like a sci-fi vid back home. He wondered and continued reading. Disease and majority of all genetic defects were practically fixed due to advances in medical technology, particularly in the field of gene therapy; and wounds were easily healed with near-instantaneous effect with a healing salve called medi-gel, which was an antiseptic, coagulant, anesthetic, partial tourniquet and gauze all rolled into one. Looks useful.

What caught the private's interest was the part about weapons. Heat sinks? Hyper-accelerated paint-chip sized rounds? Almost no need to reload? He just sat there and stared at his datapad with disbelief, he still couldn't believe what he was seeing. And what really made his mouth gape was when he read the part about kinetic barriers. Force field generators? Jesus Christ…That was pretty much the icing on the cake. Everything he had used and learned during his time in the Army was already obsolete and damn useless. Everything he had learned, he compared it with the discovery of the combustion engine during the nineteenth century, which practically made horses useless overnight.

All the things here in the future were all powered by mass effect fields and such. He also read something about some holographic interface computer and fabricator thing called an omni-tool, which was basically a phone, computer, and weapon all rolled into a single piece of tech. This is fucking unbelievable. The words, "culture shock" were a complete and utter understatement to describe his predicament. But, whether he liked it or not, he was stuck here. And if he wanted to survive and make it out of this clusterfuck alive, he had to endure all this crap.

And for the next three hours, he read, catalogued, familiarized, and learned all things that were of importance here in the 22nd century. He was so caught up in his research that sleep finally took over and laid his mind to rest after all the initial and shocking revelations he had to endure. Still. Can't. Believe. This. Shit…

"Morning, sleepyhead." He opened his eyes and was rewarded with the sight of Doctor Watkins looking at him with an infectious smile that made him return it in kind.

"Morning, ma'am—I meant Therese." Damn it, I'm still not getting used to this after four days. Therese just grinned and typed something in her datapad for a moment then went near his bed side.

"You'll be discharged in just a bit, just finalizing everything before you leave." She said, then looked at him with those blue eyes of hers and continued. "Sleep well?"

"Sure did, doc." He responded politely, stretched for a bit, then exited his bed. As he stood, he realized that he was easily towering the good doctor with a few inches or so. He wasn't really that tall, with what he estimated his height to be around 5'11" or a flat six feet.

"Okay," the good doctor motioned for him to follow. "That's just about it, you can leave now. By the way," she mentioned while they were exiting the room and into the hallway, where the exit was just right ahead. "Patrick wanted to see you after you were discharged, said he wanted to talk." They exited the small clinic, and right there waiting outside was Patrick Knowles, still wearing his trademark baseball cap with his back leaning on the pick-up/rover thing that he saw a few days ago when he was half-dead at that oak tree. He saw both of them approach him and gave them a smile and a wave.

"Listen, if there's everything you need or you want somebody to talk to, don't hesitate to approach me, okay?" she said, which Rodriguez answered with a nod of his head. "Goodbye Henry, be seeing you." She smiled one last time before turning around and going back straight into the clinic. I'll definitely miss her. He thought to himself. He continued his approach to the middle-aged man, who was just about a few dozen meters away. He arrived a few moments later.

"Ah, Henry, you feeling better, son?" the older man asked him.

"Yeah, I guess." The older man just flashed him a smile, then motioned for him to get inside the futuristic vehicle.

"Good, because I wanted to talk to you, about who you are, I mean. How about we go to my office and discuss this in private?" Oh, shit. This is not good. The private just gave Knowles a nod and a smile in return before entering his rover thing.

They rode in silence, neither of them saying anything as they headed towards the place where Knowles was taking him. The private decided to take a look at the colony he was stuck in to pass the time. In all fairness, Ferris Fields was like a small city, where blocky, modular, pre-fabricated buildings dominated everywhere. Solar panels were placed in each of the building's roofs, providing each structure a source of electricity. He also saw a larger solar panel farm that was beyond the settlement, which was protected with a two-meter high metal chain-link fence. He also saw some sort of armored fighting vehicle, its turret small and sleek, etched on the side of the vehicle were the words, "M35 Mako". Surrounding the vehicle were a few soldiers, wearing what looked like an armor/exosuit, topped off with a helmet on their heads with protective visors shielding their eyes. They carried with them rifles, which the private thought was eerily familiar. Oh, right! Those are Lancer One assault rifles. He remembered seeing them on the datapad. It was the most standard assault rifle in the market. The datapad told him they were tough, reliable, durable, and dependable; able to fill the air around the target with a good amount of rounds if the user wasn't that accurate enough with the rifle.

The sound of a vehicle honking its horn broke through Rodriguez's gaze, bringing him back to reality. Up ahead was a two-story building, with a rather moderate-size satellite dish, and a bunch of towering poles and antennae which the private could only guess were various communicating and monitoring equipment. Must be the colony's HQ or something. He thought to himself. And, he was right, it was. The building was supplemented by a few armored soldiers who were guarding the entrance and patrolling the perimeter.

The vehicle skidded to stop after driving for what seemed like ten minutes or so, and both men exited the rover. Knowles beckoned for the young man to follow, which he quickly obliged. As they approached the entrance, one of the guards greeted Knowles.

"Hey, Pat. This the guy?" the guard asked the middle-aged man.

"Yep." Was all the older man could say. Guy must have a lot on his mind. Knowles expression on his face was a bit serious, combined to that one of indifference and being laid back. In other words, totally unreadable.

They proceeded inside the building and walked for a few moments until they found the middle-aged man's office on the second floor. Once they went in, Knowles took a seat behind his desk. "Please, Henry, take a seat." He said, which the young private did immediately. "Now, right now, you might be wondering why you're here in my office?" he said, with a slight smile on his facial expression. What the hell is this guy thinking about?

"That thought did cross my mind, Mister Knowles." He replied to the man. His back leaning on the chair's back rest, ramrod straight. It was a habit he couldn't break. Being a soldier does that to you, and right now Knowles looked like an officer investigating one of his men. Though he was a civilian, it didn't make him any less nervous.

"I had the liberty of looking up your name in the Alliance databases," Oh, God. This isn't good, at all. Fuck! But the private's expression remained neutral, not betraying any emotion to the man in front of him. The older man went inside the drawer of his desk and retrieved a datapad. "Come and take a look at this." And gave it to him.

Rodriguez accepted the datapad without hesitation and took a peek at it. What could he possibly want to show me…Oh, son of a bitch. His eyes widen in shock. In front of him was his picture, alongside a brief summary of everything the Philippine Army manage to compile about him back home.

Armed Forces of the Philippines – Philippine Army

Personnel Databases

Name: Rodriguez, Henry A.

Rank: Private

Date Enlisted: 15th September 2012

Date of Birth: 8th October 1988

Age: 25

Current Unit: B Co. / 2nd Bn. / 37th Inf. Regiment / 1st Inf. Division

Previous Orders: As part of the Rapid Defensive Picket on Operation Landfall against the People's Liberation Army Ground Force during the Sino-Filipino War of 2013, was stationed at Outpost Alpha located at Scarborough Shoal to defend the installation and the shoal itself against further Chinese offensive operations.

Status: Declared missing-in-action (MIA) when the Chinese attacked and overran the outpost on December 3rd 2013. His body was never recovered. Only MIA assessment after the battle and the counterattack that followed.

Rodriguez just looked at the datapad with complete shock and disbelief. His still couldn't believe it, and a small part of him didn't want to. This was too much for him to comprehend, with his eyes still wide-eyed from utter astonishment and incredulity. Patrick Knowles observed the young man in front of him and cleared his throat.

The young man quickly regained his composure and handed back the datapad. This is fucking insane. The middle-aged man across him gave of him a sympathetic look and little bit…skepticism, maybe? He couldn't tell, exactly. The man was a master of controlling his expressions. The private broke the silence. "So," not caring about his current predicament anymore, "what now, Mister Knowles?" his voice completely emotionless and neutral.

"Well, I could inform the Alliance and let them come get a possible deserter," his voice stated matter-of-factly. As Knowles told him this, the young man just sat there, indifference clearly shown on his body language and facial expression. "a hundred and ninety-five year old, deserter." He finished this statement with another slight smile

"But," the middle-aged man continued. "we're in the Terminus Systems, and the Alliance doesn't exactly have any jurisdiction here, and honestly, I don't give a damn about you—" Thanks for the vote of confidence, you bastard. "—and yet, you haven't lied to me so far. So like I said earlier, I'll give you the benefit of a doubt." Okay? "Still don't trust you, though." He said lastly. There we go…

"So, what happens now?" Rodriguez asked him. This guy was now in-charge of his fate here. He could easily put a bullet right between his eyes right now if Knowles felt like it. But, despite the middle-aged man's distrust of him, something about the man tells the private that he wasn't that bad at all. I'll guess I'll just go with the flow. For now, anyway.

"Well, the colonial militia could use an extra gun such as yourself," Knowles told him. "None of them have any combat experience whatsoever. All of them are green as a damn leaf, every single one of 'em." He chuckled lightly after his statement.

"And what do you want me to do about it, Mister Knowles?" the private's expression still haven't changed a bit.

"I want you to train 'em, Henry. As far as everyone knows, you're the only one who has seen combat first-hand. The guys at the militia are just a couple of eager, inexperienced volunteers. I want you to change that." Knowles told him, grabbing a pitcher of water near him and poured himself a glass, gulping its contents in one swing.

"I don't really have a choice on the matter, do I?"

"Probably, probably not." Smug bastard, isn't he? The private pondered on the choice the Knowles gave him—it was more like an ultimatum, really—like what the older man told him, he didn't have much of a choice. And even if he did, what would he do? He was stuck in a world where he didn't know a damn thing about anything. Except war, of course. I'm probably gonna regret this…but then again, what have I got to lose? Fuck it!

"You've got yourself a deal then, Mister Knowles." He responded to the older man, finally cementing his position here in this colony, in this world, and into the complete unknown.

"It's just Patrick to you, son. Never really liked being called Mister Knowles." He answered back, with a huge grin completely plastered on his face. To his surprise, it really was a genuine one. No ulterior motives or anything behind. Just something real.

"One more thing," Rodriguez inquired further. "This just stays between us, right?"

"Of course, of course," he said immediately, then opened his drawer to get something else once again. This time, he produced a little square object the size of a box of matches with a wristband surrounding it. "Your omni-tool," he said, then further delved into the drawer and presented another object of interest. This one was small, tiny even, it was a circular thing the size of a pinky finger's nail with a tiny button on the middle. The young soldier arched an eyebrow. What the hell is that? Knowles caught his look and explained further. "It's a communicator, it's how we keep in touch with each other. Place this little thing inside your ear, press the button, and voila! You're all set. Just sync it up with your omni-tool and set it to whatever frequency and setting you like. Oh, don't forget to turn the translator software inside the thing. You know, whenever you talk to some aliens or something." He said. Translator software? Nice.

Rodriguez strapped the omni-tool on his left arm and quickly placed the communicator on his right ear, slightly inside the ear canal. Okay, I'm all set. His omni-tool suddenly sprang to life, his entire left arm engulfed in an orange holographic interface. He was startled for a bit, then regained his composure. He took a look at his 'tool, which told him if he wanted to synchronize it with his new communicator. He pressed the accept button and the orange glow quickly disappeared just as soon as it appeared. That was kinda odd…

Knowles saw his alarm earlier and chuckled lightly. Probably thinks I'm a fucking idiot. Then, the young private quickly remembered something that he oughta put his attention to.

"Sir, since I'm gonna be training the militia and all," he said. "when can I start familiarizing myself with the weapons?" The older man looked confused for a moment, then remembered that he really wasn't from around here. He gave the private a smile, then led him out of his office.

"Firing range is just a few meters walk near here, right this way."

"You set?" Knowles asked the private, wielding a Lancer pattern assault rifle.

"Yeah, I guess." Rodriguez responded, also carrying an assault rifle that was the same as Patrick's. They were in the militia's firing range, which the middle-aged man led him off earlier. And the old geezer was right, it really was just a few minutes trek towards their destination. It was an outdoor range, with nine lanes total, each separated by a divider made of plywood. Him and Knowles occupied lanes three and four respectively, putting on fingerless gloves, protective earmuffs and visors. Each of their rifles were placed in a small table that was standard in every lane, fully cocked and loaded with an armor-piercing tungsten ammo block. They were the only occupants in the range. Ahead of them were various cardboard figures of humans, asari, turians, and salarians.

For Rodriguez's target, it was a charging salarian armed with a pistol. Whoever made this cutouts sure are creative. Before they were prepping their shooting exercise, Knowles showed him the basics of handling various firearms: like on how to operate them, maintain, and how to upgrade them if they could get certain parts for it. He was also shown how to tweak a couple of firearms to further maximize their punch, while disabling safety protocols, which tended to completely fry the weapon's entire system and melt the barrel.

"Alright, Henry," Knowles said from the lane next to him. "Let's see what you got."

Rodriguez nodded and pointed his rifle downrange, the stock firmly placed on his shoulder and his eye glued on the weapon's built-in red dot scope. "Now remember," he heard Knowles say, "The rifle's recoil is a bit rough, so be careful." He aimed it on his target, and let loose a three-round burst. Holy shit! The recoil really wasn't that bad, at all. Hell, even the M16A2 he had been issued had a bit more kick than this one. Nonetheless, the Lancer produced a manageable recoil to which he was really contented with. He set his rifle down and saw that his rifle burst hit smack dab straight on the salarian's forehead, with a neat spread of about just a few centimeters. My drill sergeant would've been proud. He smiled mischievously. Apparently, Knowles saw this as well and was equally as surprised as he was.

"Well, I'll be damned, son." He said softly, then let out a low whistle. "You're damn good with that rifle."

"Thanks." Was all the young man could come up with. After that, he aimed his rifle downrange again and let loose several bursts at various parts of the salarian's body. Another neat spread towards the torso, both arms, legs, hell even the groin down below; all of the bursts accurate, and the spread from the shots still just perfect. For equal measure, he let out one last final burst to the salarian's forehead, just near his grouping earlier. All of which lasted for just about seven seconds. Hell yeah!

He looked towards Knowles' direction, and the middle-aged man was just staring at the private's target, completely bewildered with what he just saw. Rodriguez looked at his companion's own target and was surprised: the shots were wide, but some of the shots hit the targets at the torso mostly, some missed completely. The spread wasn't really that great, but just like that of a standard soldier; who wasn't really that good with his rifle, and wasn't that bad either. How the hell is he missing? He thought to himself.

He looked at Knowles again, this time the man was staring at him.

"What?" Rodriguez asked, the man's gaze slightly making him uncomfortable.

"How the hell are you doing that?" the old man asked him back, his mouth still gaping with disbelief.

"What're you talking about? Can't you manage the rifle's recoil? Seriously, it's like I'm firing a damn pistol. It's great!" The private happily exclaimed, showing off a toothy grin that further emphasized his excitement. Knowles just looked at him as if he were crazy, then shook his head and continued firing downrange.

"Seriously kid," the man said while his eyes were ahead and his rifle still coughing out shots downrange. "this things bucks like a damn bronco, and yet you practically sent those rounds exactly where they needed to go. You're a natural, son."

"Well, thanks, Pat." He replied, slightly embarrassed about the older man's praise to his skill. He pressed a button that was installed in the side of one of his lane's dividers, and saw his peppered cardboard target switched with a new one. This time it was a turian, wielding a sniper rifle.

Let the games begin…

They continued shooting for thirty minutes at the range until they decided they had about enough. Before leaving though, they both checked the range's holographic ballistics computer to have an overall assessment on their accuracy. Rodriguez was shocked with his results: 99.4% percent. His mouth was agape with astonishment, then he started grinning madly. Knowles' performance was less than satisfactory with a lousy 54.2% But then again, he didn't mind at all, almost expecting that that really was his result. Either way, he didn't really give a damn about it that much. They started walking towards the direction of the previous building they had visited, the colony HQ.

"Well, son," Knowles said. "I gotta admit, you're a damn good shot with that rifle. You sure you haven't fired a gun like that before?"

"Really, no," Rodriguez explained. "I guess those old rifles in the past century have more kick than these new ones. Honestly, it's as if there really wasn't any recoil, at all." And it was the truth. With the advent of mass effect technology, the small mass accelerators inside all of the weapons in this era were a god-send. Rifles in the past relied on adverse, yet simple chemical reactions to propel ammunition at supersonic speeds, at the cost of experiencing some difficult, yet slightly manageable recoil. Damn things were near-impossible to handle when firing them full-auto. But in here, it was somehow easily managed. Which, all the more reason, made the young man appreciate the weapons here.

"Ever wondered how you got here, though?" Knowles asked him again. "You know, cryogenic stasis? Suspension in advanced mass effect fields? Anything?" Rodriguez managed to laugh at that. The middle-aged bastard really wanted to know how he got here, but as much as he wanted to answer him, he honestly didn't have any idea. Which was exactly what he told him.

"Sorry, Pat. I don't even know what the hell you're talking about." Knowles just grumbled unintelligibly and continued walking with the young private towards his office.

"Well, either way, it would've been nice to know how you got here." He told the young soldier. "Anyways, you'll start teaching the militia tomorrow on whatever it is you want to teach them, as long as they learn something useful from it." With that, Rodriguez just laughed again, nearly doubling over.

"Damn it, you're making my stomach hurt." He said with a small glint of tears in his eyes. Then turning serious. "So, who do I report to, tomorrow?"

"Nobody, kid." The man curtly responded. "Like I said, you're the only one who's seen combat. As of now, you'll be their new CO." Damn, that's just…damn. He couldn't even find the words to express what he felt about taking command over a bunch of militiamen. Elation, happiness, or astonishment maybe? Hell if I know. A few weeks ago, he would've laughed at that notion. A private taking command of an entire platoon? That's just preposterous! But after seeing the evils of combat, and finding out he was lost to another time, like before, he didn't exactly have a choice. Although this time, he was happy to oblige on the offer. The thought of teaching people the means to survive the horrors of war was kind of entertaining. At least that's what he thought.

"How many of them are they, Pat?" he asked Knowles.

"Right now? Hmm, about three hundred and fifty-two of 'em, I think." The man just casually mentioned the numbers off. After that, Rodriguez's brain pretty much shut down. All the excitement of the prospect of command, just gone, in an instant. I'm…I'm fucking commanding an entire battalion? He thought to himself nervously. Jesus Christ. After that, Knowles pretty much saw the private go pale and looking at ahead with nervous eyes. And he just let out a low, bellowing laugh at his expense.

"Don't worry about it, kid." He said playfully, then patted Rodriguez on the back sympathetically. "I'm shaping over the lives of thirteen thousand men, woman and children, and you don't see me getting nervous." It didn't help at all, and the private paled even more. And for a minute there, the old man was sure that he'd be passing out any moment. But then, the private regained his composure and cleared his throat to speak.

"I just hope you're right about that, Pat."

"I usually am." He boasted proudly. "Well, if you're commanding the militia, might as well give you some sort of rank, here."

"Like, what?" the young private asked him.

"I suppose congratulations are in order then," he said sarcastically, which the private was thankfully oblivious to. Then Knowles continued. "Congratulations…Major."

Next chapter will be up in a few days time.

-Rookie571