This chapter is a little shorter, but it's been so long since I updated, I wanted to go ahead and push something out. Next chapter we should be heading back to Atlantis for some excitement!

Chapter Seven

Lt. Sinclair O'Shea either had the worst luck in the world or the best; he wasn't quite sure which at the moment. He'd been pulled from his squad by no less than Shepard herself to take part in the assault to reach Citadel transport beam. She'd seen the N7 mark on his armor (which he'd earned only a month ago), told him she needed an engineer, and that was that. Certainly being hand-picked by Shepard was an honor, even if it was for one of the most suicidal missions in military history. However, he had come away from it without a scratch, much better than most of the people in the room, and certainly better than everyone left behind on Earth. Damn luck of the Irish, he thought to himself. His armor was still covered in Shepard's blood from where he had carried her himself to the stargate, where he'd handed her off to the medics. He'd never had any intention of going through the damn thing, he wanted to stay and fight, but Lt. Asil had ordered him through. Of course, he had to wonder to himself why he listened to her, she certainly wasn't his commander, but her tone had left little room for argument.

A glowing blue sphere, hovering just above his shoulder, spoke. "What is our current status, Sinc?"

"That's a great question, Tax," he replied as he scanned the room. Lt. Asil had just headed up in the elevator with Shepard. "I may be an engineer, but I've no clue how this stargate works or where exactly it's brought us. Lt. Asil and Dr. T'soni didn't exactly have time to fill me in on the details."

"My scans indicate we passed through a wormhole," Tax said.

"Bloody hell," he grunted. "Well, let's get to work. I'm no medic, but I've got some field training that could be put to good use about now."

"I believe Lt. Asil has placed all medical issues under the command of that salarian," Tax said and, hoping to be helpful, shot a narrow blue light in the salarian's direction.

"Right then," he said and headed over to the salarian.

The salarian, Medic Ithos, was kneeling next to a human soldier and applying medi-gel, and, based on his wild gesticulations, he appeared to be arguing with the geth standing near him that had been part of Shepard's team. A black-haired man in a uniform he didn't recognize was standing next to them, appearing more than a little confused by the exchange taking place between Ithos and geth.

"Cronos, Lt. Asil says that you should help the wounded. Shepard is going to need their help when we try to retake the Citadel," Ithos said, staring down the geth.

"That task does fall within my mission parameters," the geth replied.

"Perfect!" Ithos huffed. "You can start by distributing some water from the supply packs to the wounded."

Cronos cocked his head oddly as he processed the information and then went to fulfill his new mission.

"Salarian…," Sinc began.

The salarian raised his hand to silence him. "I have been called 'salarian' once already, and as Lt. Asil was in hurry, I did not mind it. You, however, are not in a hurry, Lt., and I do have a name. It's Ithos."

Sinc raised his hands defensively. "No offense meant, Doc. I'm uninjured. How can I help?"

Ithos groaned and shook his head derisively. "Help? What help? I've just given the geth an assignment. Can no one in this room do anything without explicit instructions?"

Sinc and Sheppard shared a bemused glance, with Sheppard just offering a shrug. "Just trying to help, Doc."

Ithos released a heavy breath and stood up to face him. "Ithos. Ithos. Not 'salarian.' Not 'doc.' If you can't remember my name, how do you think you could be of any assistance? Are you even a medic?"

"I've met your alien counterpart, McKay," Sheppard muttered into his earpiece.

"Not as such. Emergency field training." Sinc cracked a grin. "I know which end the medi-gel comes out."

The salarian sighed, unamused, and pointed to the black-haired man. "Colonel John Sheppard." When he saw the Lt.'s face light up, he quickly added, "no relation!"

The two shared a firm handshake.

"Apparently, his people are hosting us," Ithos continued. "He wants an update on my patients to forward on to their medics topside. I don't have time, must treat. As I scan patients, will auto-forward my reports to your omnitool. You pass the information to Colonel Sheppard, so that he can relay it to his people."

Sinc nodded and clapped his hands together with a soldierly enthusiasm. "Anything to help."

Tax turned his eye on Sinc. "I believe he just asked you to be his administrative assistant."

"Not inaccurate," Ithos conceded as he stood up. "Though your qualifications for that designation are questionable. This patient is stable, but she will need surgery for a shattered femur. I will move on to the next. Please make sure that Colonel Sheppard gets the information he needs."

Sheppard tapped his earpiece and relayed the information to McKay.

Sinc faced Sheppard, again studying his unusual uniform and the patches on his arm.

Sheppard was equally curious about Sinc's suit of black armor. The young man couldn't be older than twenty-five, but he had the eyes and bearing of someone that seen fierce combat. His red hair, green eyes, and accent certainly would have Sheppard guess he was from Ireland, but given his armor and alien companions, it certainly wasn't any Ireland that Sheppard knew.

Sinc thumped this chest. "Lt. Sinclair O'Shea of the Systems Alliance. Friends called me Sinc." He jerked a thumb at the blue sphere. "That's Tax. My second pair of eyes and my best friend.

"Technically, I am his second eye, as I do not possess a pair. Though my single eye can track with much greater quickness and clarity than a set of human eyes. In this case one is better than two."

Sheppard wasn't sure whether to laugh. "Did it just make a joke?"

"He tires, but his delivery isn't always the best. However, he is the best damn combat drone in the Alliance."

"Though I have been programmed to be humble, statistical analysis of Alliance records forces me to agree with that assessment," Tax said, almost cheerfully.

"Don't show off, Tax," Sinc chided with a smirk.

"Well, I'm Colonel John Sheppard," he replied, studying the glowing drone.

Sinc's brow furrowed, and he pointed to the patch on Sheppard's shoulder. "That's an American flag, innit? The good old U.S. of A?"

Sheppard arched a curious eyebrow. "Indeed it is. You seem surprised."

He shrugged in response. "Don't see those much anymore. My parents have a big one hanging in the living room back in Galway, or they did before this whole bloody mess. My great granddad brought it with him when he came back to Ireland."

"Now, see I thought you were Irish," Sheppard chuckled.

Sinc laughed and gave a slight bow. "Yeah, the red hair and accent are kind of a dead giveaway."

"Your great grandfather was American?"

"Nah, he was going to university. Then you Americans had to go and have 'another damned secession war,' or that's how he liked to tell it. He was in New York the day they blew the Statue of Liberty."

Sheppard frowned and held his hand up. "Whoa. Wait a minute. Someone blew up the Statue of Liberty?"

Sinc nodded affirmatively. "Damn shame. Anyway, he actually joined up. Put in a couple of years in the fight against the secessionists. It's his war stories that made me want to join the Alliance. After what I've seen though," he let out a big sigh and shook his head, "I'll be quite pleased to get back to the family business. Settle down to some peace and quiet."

"Yeah, I know that feeling. What's the family business?" Sheppard asked.

He grinned and chuckled. "Beer of course. Family owns a small independent brewery. We got a special license from Guinness. Produce it for turians and quarians. It's a niche market, but it was going good."

"I'm not quite sure what half of that means, but I do like the part about beer," Sheppard replied.

Sinc's omnitool beeped and he activated the hologram around his arm.

Sheppard let out a whistle. "Now, that is cool. You get music on that thing?"

Sinc shrugged. "Standard omnitool, though this one does have some of my own special modifications, not to mention my collection of Fornax mags."

"Fornax?" Sheppard questioned.

"I just get it for the articles, mate," he said and slapped Sheppard on the shoulder. "Oh, got a couple of reports here. Two so far are going to need surgery – internal bleeding – but are stable enough for the moment."

Sheppard tapped his earpiece and relayed the information to McKay, and then questioned Sinc. "Yeah, so where the hell are you guys from?"

"Ha, I was just about to ask 'where the hell are we?' Not County Galway to be sure!"

"What the fuck?" The angry shout echoed throughout the room and drew the curious attention of Sheppard and Sinc, not to mention the many wounded. The salarian glanced up anxiously from the patient he was treating, and even the two krogan, upon realizing the source of the exclamation, relocated themselves closer to the elevator.

Sinc knew the voice. "Oh bloody hell. She's awake," he muttered and rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. "You got any tranquilizers, Sheppard? Preferably the instant kind."

"Who's awake?" Sheppard asked and then saw the woman who had shouted stand up. "Ah, that is… interesting." He cocked his head inquisitively as a tattoo covered woman in a black leather jack and green combat pants approached, semi-hopping on one leg.

"Where the hell is this, Lt.? Where's Shepard?"

"I'm not sure."

An angry flush rose to her face and Sinc raised his hands defensively and took a step back. "No, I know where Shepard is. She's fine. She's fine. Well, she's hurt, I'm just not sure where we are." He motioned to Colonel Sheppard. "This Colonel John Sheppard. No relation I'm told. But maybe he could answer your question."

"Well, someone had damn well better have some answers," she said, pushing a finger against Sinc's chest, which caused her to slightly lose her balance and fall against him. He deftly grabbed her around the waist.

"Don't get ahead of yourself there, soldier," she said. "Cute though, very cute."

"I'll admit… that frightens me a bit," Sinc replied with a gulp.

"Even better," she smirked as she pushed away from him and regained her balance on her one good leg. She pointed to her right forearm where a broken bone was punching through the skin. "Forget that I can hardly walk. This… fucking hurts. Can we do something about that, Lt.?"

Sinc nodded and started to give a confused salute, until he saw Jack's eyes narrow, and he stopped his arm in mid-air. "I… hmm… medi-gel."

Jack nodded. "Good boy, Sinc. Medi-gel," she said with a snort.

He quickly began to apply the medi-gel to her arm, drawing a muttered stream of curses from his patient.

She looked to Sheppard and rolled her eyes. "You… the other Sheppard, apparently. Another boy scout. Cute haircut," she said.

"Umm, thanks, and you are?"

"Jack. Just call me Jack," she said.

"Done here," Sinc said matter-of-factly and knelt down to take a look at her leg.

"You can just call me John," he replied.

"I prefer boy scout but have it your way," she replied. "Where's my… damn it, Sinc," she snapped. He had pulled out his knife and was attempting to cut her boot off. "I like it rough, but slow the hell down!"

"Yes, m 'am," he replied and returned to her boot with renewed focus.

"Lt.!" Ithos shouted from across the room. "You're falling behind on those reports!"

"Just not your day," Jack said with an impish grin and patted him on the head with her good arm, and then realizing it made balancing easier, grabbed a handful of his red hair and held on.

"Your support is truly touching," Sinc joked with a grimace.

"As is yours," she said, tightening her grip on his hair.

"I would recommend scissors," Tax offered. "Attempting to remove the boot with a knife is inefficient."

"Not you too, buddy," Sinc replied and glanced at his omni-tool. "You ready for the next report Shepard?"

"To hell with reports. Someone needs to get me to Shepard," Jack said.

"Jack, you're just…"

"Just what, Lt.?" She scowled and tightened her grip on his hair even further.

He grunted with pain and then steeled himself and began sliding her boot off. "You're going to have wait. There's nothing you can do for Shepard at this moment. So bloody relax and let me see if I can't patch up this leg."

"You got a set, kid. I'll give you that. Last person who told me to wait got plastered against the wall. Course that was Cerberus."

"Like to think I rate a bit above those bastards," Sinc said.

"Jury's still out."

"Well, it looks like the elevator is about back down. I'm going to help get some of these people loaded," Sheppard said. "Once we get everyone back to Atlantis, we can start figuring out what the hell is going on here."

"Atlantis? Damn… you mean the sunken city? Where the hell did that asari send us?"

"Can't be any worse than where we were," Sinc said.

"Never truer words, Sinc," she said, and eased up just a bit on her grip of his hair.

He smiled as he continued his work on her leg. This day was taking strange turns.