"Hey! Over here!"

The voice was muted, and even with the presence of the incessant ringing in both his ears, he was still somehow able to hear it. Besides that, everything was blanketed in darkness, and for some reason, he couldn't move any part of his body.

And his attempts to do so only resulted in pain unlike anything that he's ever experienced before. Everything hurt, and when he meant everything, he really did mean everything. The agony of it all shot throughout his entire body extremely fast, which was similar to like a geyser turbulently discharging scalding hot water into the air. He screamed, or more technically, he tried to scream. But all he could manage at the moment was a barely audible groan that signaled his immense discomfort.

Where the hell am I? Am I fucking dead?

"Alright, we're in position!"

The last thing he remembered before everything went dark was the world around him spinning violently, and the unsullied screams of terror from the seats behind him as they crashed towards the ground like a big-ass meteor once they lost control. He also vivdly recalled Cortez tightly gritting his teeth as both his feet were firmly planted on the console, hands pulling hard on the back-up flight controls as the skycar's holo-interface faded out in the last minute, as the shuttle pilot had to switch to emergency manual trying to soften their unstable approach.

Afterwards, there was nothing but perpetual darkness after that.

"Get me some help here, damn it!" The voice returned again, this time a tad bit louder clearer, and close. "And make damn sure to let the mechs form a defensive perimeter around the crash once they get here!"

"How many do you think you'll need?" Another voice spoke up, accompanied by the unappealing sounds of metal grating upon metal on the exterior. Whatever they were doing, he didn't much appreciate the noise they were making.

"Around half of what we got."

"Half? That's too much! What if the clinic gets attacked?"

"I'm sure he can handle it." the first voice spoke confidently. "Besides, if he were here right now, he'd agree with me, anyhow."

"I don't know, man…" the second voice replied hesitantly.

"Trust me, Danny. It'll be fine. These poor bastards need our help."

"Alright, alright, fine. You sold me. I'll send word out right now."

"Attaboy. Now stand back, this thing's about to get loud."

If he thought the slight metal grazing sounds from earlier were a nuisance to his hearing, then what followed next was pure and utter auditory torture. What sounded like a drill was trying bore a hole on top of the surface, and the ungodly sounds it were making were too much for him to handle. He wanted to cover his ears so badly, that when he desperately tried to move his arms he forgot what the end result out of it was, and all he got out of the fruitless endeavor was even more tremendous pain.

He gritted his teeth greatly as he groaned and struggled to not black out from the intensely excruciating sensation. He accidentally overlooked the part where bodily movement at this time was equal to a shitload of pain.

Fuck me!

He felt like his ears were bleeding profusely from being forced to listen to this agonizing shit, and all he could do right now was just helplessly clench his teeth some more as the drill's noise became even louder and louder. Maybe it was because of the tremendous amounts of pain, possible blood loss or maybe even suffering from a concussion; but he honestly did thought that, because of the effects he was getting from the harsh godawful noises, he was screaming out loud from the top of his lungs. He wasn't really sure.

"What the hell was that?" a third voice asked, just after the drill had mercifully stopped.

"What was what?"

"Thought I heard someone screaming."

Looks like it wasn't his imagination after all.

"You sure?"

"I'm sort of sure. I—you know, what? I can't really tell, bro."

"You're just hearing things, man. Pull yourself together."

"Yes, sir."

"Alright, we've cracked the exterior hull. Bring out the spreaders and place 'em here, here, and there."

"Right."

There was silence, sweet and immensely wonderful silence. He couldn't hear anything at all save his own breathing and the rhythmic beat of his heart. Was it finally over? Has God finally decided to throw a metaphorical bone his way and make him rest after having received so much aural crap in his ears?

His answer came several seconds later, as he heard the metal strain with tremendous pressure from something outside, followed by the harsh echoes of high-tensile aerodynamic hull tearing itself apart as light finally flooded the skycar's compartment. It was extremely blinding and disorienting, but at that moment, he really didn't care.

Being engulfed in complete darkness was not something he wished to experience again.

He instinctively closed his eyes to protect his vision from the searing light, and the outside voices that he could barely comprehend a moment ago swiftly became crisp and clear, with their owners' shadows dancing around on his closed eyelids. Relief was finally flooding throughout his system, and bit by bit he was finally willing for his body to rest. He had endured enough for today.

"Holy Mother of God…" the second voice from earlier breathed out.

"Danny," he heard one of them say, mere moments before he completely blacked out from sheer exhaustion. "send a message to the Professor. Tell him it's a bad one."

Surveyor Post 13-A / Tesca Nemerosa

"I'm tellin' ya, Paul. This shit with them colonists disappearing out there could happen to us too."

"Uh huh, sure it will." Paul Jeffries said noncommittally without looking, as he used his holo-console to meticulously make adjustments to the surveying drill's sensors. His co-worker, unfortunately, was too wrapped up in semi-current events to focus on anything other than work. Still, he kept on talking, much to Paul's discomfort and annoyance.

"Maybe it was 'em slavers the Citadel's been yapping about. It does kinda make sense, I think."

"So you're telling me that the batarians enslaved eighteen thousand people, and magically disappeared without a trace of their involvement?" Jeffries finally entertained the man as he finished his work. The sensors were already calibrated, might as well pass the time, even with this idiot in particular. "Really, just like that?"

"Well, why not?" the man asked him.

"Wes, have you actually met a real-life batarian?"

"Well, you know, once or twice…" Wes said without making it sound like a big deal. Knowing the bastard, he was pretty much lying through his teeth.

"So, in other words, that's a no then?"

"Now, wait just a damn minute—"

"Oh, quit your bullshiting, Wes." Jeffries stated while crossing his arms in equal parts amusement and displeasure. "We both know you haven't met any batarians. Not on your fucking life."

"Eh, well, I could have."

"Seriously, out of all the people to get stuck with on a cramped remote outpost, I can't believe Forster paired me up with you."

"What's wrong with that?"

"You know what? Nothing. Absolutely nothing at all."

"Heh, thought so." Wes smirked victoriously as Jeffries decided to drop his tirade about how much of a lazy, unmotivated and dumb piece of shit his erstwhile companion is. Good thing his brain was working interference on things he wanted to say out loud but shouldn't. The worse thing that could happen now was being paired with a pissed off and stupid jackass instead of being just a plain stupid one.

Still, as much as it pains him to admit it, Wes did bring out an interesting and curious point. But he did have some doubts, specifically about how efficiently a bunch of violent and murderous batarians could easily enslave several thousand people and just vanish into thin air. Even the most seasoned slaver groups here in the Terminus has a tendency to leave such a fucked-up mess behind most of the time, and anyone can easily see that.

He looked at Wes and smiled briefly. Well, anyone with a proper and decent brain, that is.

Though, speaking of the enslaved colonists, he honestly did feel particularly sorry about their fate. No one in the entire galaxy should suffer such a cruel, violent, and tremendously painful demise in the hands of those sadistic and insane batarians. Though, if he wasn't lying to himself, it was better them than this particular colony. And they have more people living here than in Ferris Fields. Or anywhere for that matter.

He shrugged that thought off. He didn't feel especially guilty thinking about that, though.

Better them than us, for sure.

Besides, he couldn't wait to get home. He was already in the fifth day of his one week shift manning this surveyor outpost, and he desperately wanted to go back to his pre-fab unit and take a decent shower afterwards. Maybe even make himself a nice sandwich, if he was lucky, then sit back on his couch, relax, and watch the pirated vid-feed on the latest matches of the biotiball tournament. He really hoped his team would win this time.

What I wouldn't give…

He sighed at the agony of it all. Truth be told, he still didn't understand why the colony was so vested in surveying this exact stretch of land. What was so damn special about it? It was just a piece of infertile and cracked-up rocks, like everything else on this planet, drying up for the past billion years or so. If they hadn't done this, he'd still be back at the colony right now, doing the shit he wanted to do instead of being in the middle of fucking nowhere, manning a console in this tiny and cramped cabin, sitting next to a dumb bastard who he knew was certainly brain dead and fu—

"Yo, Paul!" Wes called out.

"What?" He replied irritably. His co-worker seemed to ignore the annoyed features on his face and pointed to his holographic display.

"Look at your console, man. It's lighting up."

"My wha—?" He was so distracted mentally cursing out this futile endeavor, that he didn't notice his holo-console bursting with renewed activity. Something he hadn't seen before ever since he started manning this post. He immediately attended to it while Wes was just looking at him blankly.

According to telemetry picked up by the drill's onboard sensor array, they were picking up something massive underneath the very ground they were in on, and whose composition was of unknown origin.

Which was weird, since the sensors were supposed to instantaneously determine the unknown material's make and molecular structure as it scanned it in real-time. At least that's what his supervisor Forster told him a few days ago, when they were sent an update to the drill systems' built-in operating and scanning software.

Not knowing what to do and seemingly at a confounding loss, he contacted his supervisor.

"What is it, Jeffries?" the sound of a bored and tired Forster was heard on the comm systems. "Is Wes using the holos to look at Fornax videos of big-ass asari again?"

"What?! Hey!" Wes indignantly spoke out next to him. "I wasn't—!"

"Of course you weren't, Wes." Forster responded with as much more boredom and indifference as he could muster. Which was surprising, because they couldn't possibly be more bored than they are now. Apparently, he was mistaken. "Anyway, this better be good. I was about to find out who's going to go to the biotiball play-offs this season."

"Wait, who's playing?" Jeffries asked.

"Usaru Maestros versus the Taetrus Razors. Man, they weren't messing around. Both teams really wanted to win."

"How's it going so far?"

"Well, Razors had the game going in the first half with some sick offense. Buried those hot-ass asaris with some awesome plays. But then the Maestros recovered on the second with a few clever defensive moves, and they're coming head-to-head in this one now by just a few points."

"Goddamn."

"Who do you think's going to win?" Wes inquired, inching closer to hear what's next.

"Fuck knows, man. Could be anyone's game. Those spikes know a thing or two about offense and are burying them in long range and close-up shots. But the asari are adapting to it and are making some wicked plays on the fly to counteract the offensive pressure. Seriously, I was on the edge of my seat here."

"I am so going to watch it later."

"Yeah, I'd recommend it." Forster said. "Look, besides catching up on your sports, why are you fellas really calling me? This better be important."

"Oh, right. I almost forgot." Paul brought up his findings to the main screen. "I'm getting something here, man. The sensors are saying that it's picking up enormous deposits of whatever-it-is underneath this sector, but it can't tell me what exactly."

"What? That's not supposed to happen."

"Why's that? For all I know, it could be a faulty component or something."

"Because the people who made that drill said so, and that they're latest update was supposed to fix any glitches or malfunctions out there. Something about improved synchronization and optimization or whatever."

"Well, I'm telling ya, Forster. I'm not seeing anything here except a big blob of something that may or may not be the collective shit heap of the entire galaxy."

"Ha-ha, real funny. Gimme a minute."

While he heard Forster and a few others scatter around on the other end of the comm, Paul just kept looking at his screen, wondering what in the hell this thing was that was causing him so much trouble and expended effort.

While the sensors were having a hard time trying to figure out what it is, it didn't have any problems telling them how big it was or how far. According to the readings, it was definitely huge. Like, the size of the state of Texas big, where he vaguely heard Wes tell him he was from or somewhat a long time ago, and it was just six klicks deep. Maybe the deposits were even bigger than that, who knew?

But, in order to be sure, he'd have to do a detailed scan of it later; and he wasn't exactly keen on doing a lot of work on what could possibly just be nothing of importance. He was dreading it immensely.

It didn't take long before his supervisor returned with an answer.

"Okay, Paul, we may have come up with a solution."

"About damn time."

"Yeah, yeah, shut up. Alright, the engineers here think the problem may have something to do with the drill's onboard resonators. Could've been fucking calibrated wrong by the previous shift there or what not, but who fucking cares. Anyways, they want you to fix it."

"How?"

"Reset it to its previous state. Now, we may get some slightly incorrect readings out of it, but at least we'll finally get to know whatever the hell this thing is."

"Whatever."

Opening up a new window on the screen, Jeffries started to input instructions telling the drill's built-in resonators—the things that are passively and actively doing the scanning on the sensors—to disregard any of the previous calibrations made to it and reset to its original settings.

It wasn't that hard to do at all, and after about a few minutes' worth of typing he was already finished. Outside of their cabin, the usual steady and reassuring whine of the drill started to slow down and disappear altogether, as its systems were trying to implement the instructions recently relayed to it and reorganized itself accordingly.

"Niiiiice." Forster drawled on the comm link.

"So," Jeffries asked while looking at his screen, "did that do the trick?"

"Pretty much. The drill's stopped, but it'll get back up shortly. Though the sensors boot up more quickly, and we're now getting new somewhat accurate readings of the unknown's composition. Standby…"

Bit by bit, the sensor readings he was receiving earlier was now piecing itself together after being briefly restarted. A few things in it were out of sync or were displaying bad telemetry, but that was to be expected. The more important part now was to find out what the hell this thing was, and worry about the rest later.

The readings he was getting in this console were also relayed automatically back towards the central station in the main colony via orbital sat-links, hopefully letting Forster and the rest of the fellas back home know what Jeffries was seeing. And based on what he was seeing on the screen right now, he wasn't entirely sure what to make of it. And apparently so did someone else.

"Jesus, it couldn't be…" a voice on the other end of the line that wasn't Forster was accidentally picked up on the comm link.

"What is it?" Forster remarked.

"According to these readings…no, it's not possible."

"For fuck's sakes, Copeland. Enough with the damn suspense. Just tell me what it is."

But Jeffries already knew. He couldn't believe it at first, but seeing it right now firsthand on his holo-screen was making all of his senses shutdown with complete disbelief. There was simply no way in hell they got this lucky. But according to this damned machine, they really are.

Next to him, Wes was completely out of the loop, and asked Paul what was going on. To his immediate surprise, Paul was suddenly smiling from ear to ear when he faced him and dragged the confused fucker right in front of his screen, and Wes read the most prominent words the screen was displaying.

"Element zero detected."