From Across the Galaxies
Chapter III: The Darkest Lord

Commander John K. Shepard sighed as he looked at the three folders sitting idly on his desk. The recently revived soldier ran a hand through his short cropped ginger hair and slouched back in the comfortable leather chair in exasperation. Exhaustion ebbed at his strength and his entire body still felt sore from the last recruitment mission. The idea of going through two, maybe three, more equally grueling missions without a decent rest in between simply made his body remind him of how much he needed it. The N7 trained marine rested his elbow on the arm of his chair and rested his chin on the bare knuckles of his hand.

Having spent the better portion of the last two years on a medical table, the former Spectre had lost some of his physical prowess as a result of inactivity. The most trivial of activities wore him out quickly and all of his muscles burned. His stamina had decreased. His muscles had gone soft. Even with the cybernetic implants and muscle restoration therapy that he had been put through before being woken up, Shepard just wasn't as fit as he had been before his untimely death. No one knew this of course. He had managed to survive the events surrounding his awakening using almost pure adrenaline. The mission on Freedom's Progress had been accomplished mostly through the use of Biotics and technological creativity. Omega had been a different story. Through sheer force of will, he had managed to push through the last mission without showing his weakness but it had taken a lot out of him. The barriers and his hard suit had taken the majority of the brunt during the street battles on Omega but the three mercenary groups vying for power on that backwater planet were relentless. He was lucky that Miranda and Jacob hadn't noticed that he was fatiguing. He was damned lucky that Garrus hadn't noticed the change.

In time, the commander assumed that the weariness would fade as he became used to his body again. In the mean time, he needed to spend as much time as possible readjusting to being alive. He had to exercise regularly in between missions and word on regaining endurance. He resolved himself to begin basic boot camp exercises during intergalactic jumps at least until he was fully fighting fit again. Before that sort of training could begin in earnest, he needed to pick a new mission. Jack, Warlord Okeer, and Prisoner Delta were all hardcore bastards, according to their respective dossiers.

Jack's list of crimes ran at least a mile long. The fact that the homicidal maniac had been captured on a planet that had outlawed the death penalty was probably the only the Illusive Man could still contract for such a powerful biotic. Shepard still wondered how his new boss intended for him to actually convince the currently cryo-frozen convict to work with Cerberus. The next recruit, Okeer, had a long history as a Krogan Warlord who fought in the rebellions. His kill could numbered in the thousands. More remarkable still, fighting as a warrior didn't seem to be his main concern. He actually seemed, according to the profile provided by Cerberus, to prefer exploring scientific ways to restore the Krogan people to their former glory. This struck the commander as strange, seeing as how almost every Krogan he knew, with the exception of Urdnot Wrex, cared more about getting revenge for the infliction of the genophage, rather than actually trying to figure out a way to reverse the process. Okeer sounded handy. He also sounded like a liability.

Last but not least, the Alliance had a man in their custody whom the Illusive Man insisted above the others that Shepard recruit. This man sounded more dangerous than Jack and Okeer combined to be honest. Two years previously, he had managed to penetrate security surrounding Ilos and the Conduit, escape from and murder an entire star ship's worth of Salarian soldiers and scientists, and make his way as far as the Quarian Flotilla before being captured by Quarian and Alliance military. After being put on a trial in secret, the council declared him guilty of numerous war crimes, specifically pertaining to the war with the Geth. As a human, he was handed over to the Alliance for execution. Interestingly enough, Cerberus had discovered that the killer had never been put to death. Instead, he had been transferred to a secret Alliance prison aboard the Citadel.

Oddly enough, this recruit seemed to have no name. During the course of the last two years, Councilor Anderson had been able to do nothing to discover the identity or origin of the prisoner. Everything about him seemed to be shrouded in mystery. Even using Spectres to try to uncover his past, the Alliance had found no trace of him. Even after using every bit of facial recognition software available, this man hadn't been found on any planet known to have even the smallest human population. His psych assessment, as well as Anderson's personal report seemed to indicate him to be a highly intelligent individual, capable of thought on a level well above that of the average human.

Another strange fact that cropped up in the dossier provided by the Illusive Man was the fact that this man seemed to have some sort of altered biotic abilities. According to the surveillance footage from the Salarian ship, this person used several telekinetic powers without the slightest biotic aura or emission. This man's powers well exceeded those of any biotic that Shepard had met. He had literally ripped a Salarian in half using only his mind. Even Lt. Kaidan Alenko, one of the former Spectre's fallen comrades, hadn't had that kind of power and he had been outfitted with an L2 biotic implant. Whoever had tweaked this man really knew what they were doing. The question just became whether or not he was stable enough to work with. The L2's had driven most of their users into insanity. What sort of effect would something this powerful have on the brain?

Curiosity motivated Commander Shepard when he reached over to the communications channel near his desk and opened a line between himself and the ship's pilot. "Joker," the marine said authoritatively through the microphone.

After a moment, a buzz of static burst through the comm. and was followed immediately by the voice of his pilot. "Yes sir?" A hint of agitation seasoned the dutiful tone that the flight lieutenant used to respond and his commanding officer could only assume that Joker and the new ship's artificial intelligence unit were not getting on very well at the moment.

Smiling to himself, Shepard responded. "I want you to take the Normandy into the Citadel."

"Aye, aye, Commander," Joker said back after just a moment. "Should be able to bring us in a couple of hours from our position."

Shepard didn't even bother to respond to the ETA. Instead, he simply slouched back into his chair and let out another enormous sigh. He mind began to feud about whether he should make good on his mental promise to train between missions or catch a few hours of sleep before the next one started.

Councilor David Anderson looked up from his desk on the top floor of the human embassy on the Presidium of the Council Citadel as he heard the automatic door to his office slide open with a faint jingle. The dark skinned man did an immediate double take as his brown eyes suddenly went very wide. His chair hit the ground from the speed with which the former Alliance captain stood up. His mouth opened and closed several times, during which he could only utter a few incoherent grunts and sputters. Shock ran rampant through his entire system and would not subside, no matter how hard he tried.

As if the last two years had never happened and they had only seen each other a few days ago, John Shepard strolled casually up to his old friend's desk with a smirk dancing across his lips. Dressed in his old crimson and black N7 military armor, he was simply a vision of the past. There had been no physical signs of aging. The only difference that the former soldier could see were the exposed cybernetics that glowed a faint orange color beneath his skin. One lined his cheek, while another danced across his eye. Nonetheless, he looked damned good for a dead man.

Behind Shepard, a young woman whom Anderson did not recognize walked.

This woman, maybe in her early twenties, was dressed in a form fitting jump suit that did little except accentuate her voluptuous form. Her skin seemed very pale in comparison to most individuals, which contrasted sharply with her dark brown, nearly black hair. Anderson also couldn't help but notice that a pistol hung from her belt and slapped against her thigh as she walked. Her face seemed to show only a dry contempt for the councilor, which he regarded immediately with distrust. His lack of faith in this young thing only increased when he recognized the emblem sewn into his suit just above her left breast.

"Hello Councilor," Shepard said fondly as he extended his hand towards the retired military officer.

"You're alive?" was all that the dark skinned man could respond, his eyes still fixated on the emblem on Miranda's outfit.

"Likes to stare more than most old men," she commented dryly as she crossed her arms over her chest.

The snide comment quickly sobered the man up and he turned to face Shepard, his expression becoming very serious. "I heard rumors that you were alive and working for Cerberus. I never once believed but… Cerberus?"

"It's a long story, David," Shepard comment as he withdrew his offer for a hand shake. "Most of it wasn't my choice."

"But where have you been for the last two years? Damn it, boy, you left the entire galaxy heart broken after the Normandy was attacked. And for Cerberus?"

Shepard shook his head quickly. "Let me explain. David, this is Operative Miranda Lawson," he stated as he gesticulated towards the lovely young woman. "After I was killed, she headed up a Cerberus science team which worked to bring me back to life. Long story short, it worked."

"Bring you back to life?" Anderson repeated, a little bit dumbfounded. "I don't believe it."

"Believe, Councilor," Miranda interjected, not appreciating a politician making light of the work she had done. "The commander was brought to us in a body bag that contained less than half of a human being. We were just lucky that his brain was still intact. Most of what you see here was synthetically grown in a lab. Skin cells, hair grafts, muscle mass combined with advanced cybernetics and about four billion credits and you've got a walking, talking, Shepard."

Anderson looked from Shepard to Miranda and back again. The two locked eyes and the former Spectre nodded his affirmation of the story's validity. "I've only been conscious for about two weeks. I've also been a bit busy since I woke up."

The human councilor turned and picked up the chair he had knocked over before proceeding to sit in it. "And you work for Cerberus now?"

Shepard shifted uncomfortably regarding the subject but nodded. "Is the council doing anything to stop the Reapers?" he asked in return.

Councilor Anderson shook his head and looked up at Shepard gravely. "You were the only one with enough credibility to push the Reaper story on the Council. Even once I become a full fledged member, the three of them didn't have enough respect for me to entertain the notion that the Geth weren't behind the Sovereign attack. For formality's sake, they launched a nearly unfunded investigation into your report but that was interrupted and incentive to try again never came up. I'm sorry, John."

"I'm sad to say, I'm not surprised," Shepard said with a shrug. "I warned them time after time about the Reapers and Saren. They always chose to ignore me. That's why I had to join forces with extremists like Cerberus. That's why I am fighting my way across the galaxy in preparation for a suicide mission through Hell's gates."

Anderson nodded his understanding. While the dark skinned man did not trust the company his old friend now kept, he couldn't deny the validity of anything being said. He councilor slouched back in his chair and folded his hands. "I may regret saying this, but is there anything that I can do to help?"

Miranda smiled at the question, though a sharp glance from her commanding officer erased it quickly. Shepard turned back to his friend and placed both hands on the councilor's desk. "I'm putting together a team. I need the best of the best. Scientists. Muscle. Strategists. Everything we learned in N7 in one group." The look that formed on the politician's face suggested moderate interest, though he said nothing in response. "I need to know what happened to the old Normandy's crew? Tali'Zorah vas Neema is still working with the Migrant Fleet and Garrus Vakarian has already been recruited. But what about Urdnot Wrex, Liara T'Soni, and Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams?"

Anderson shrugged. "The Krogan and the Asari both went on with their lives. Wrex went back to Tuchanka. I believe he's working on uniting the Krogan clans, for all the good it'll do. Liara's working as an information broker on Illium. I don't know how reliable she would be, anymore."

Shepard nodded and raised an eyebrow. Anderson had purposely skipped over the former Spectre's girlfriend and it was obvious. Even Miranda could sense the tension in the room build as her superior waited expectantly for an answer. When none came, his hand clenched into a fist and he looked as if he might become violent. "And?" he said as he tried to remain calm.

Anderson once again sighed. "I'm sorry, John. Operations Chief Williams is on a classified mission at the moment. I can't give you anything on her at the moment. I can, however, put her in contact with you as soon as she comes home."

The tension in Shepard's body relaxed and he nodded his understanding. He had been an Alliance marine once. Most of his files were classified after he became a Spectre. Things had to remain a secret or people died. That's just how things worked in the military.

Miranda, however, had become impatient. The Illusive Man would never allow Shepard to recruit certain members of his previous team, such as Dr. T'Soni. The fact that the man continued to harp on the subject agitated the Cerberus Operative greatly. Nonetheless, she kept her composure and redirected the conversation to more important matters. "There is one person that we came here to recruit, Councilor. We need your help." The human politician's eyes narrowed as he began to develop a sneaking suspicion as to where this was going. He crossed his arms and waited for either Miranda or Shepard to continue. Ultimately, the young woman did the honors. "Two years ago, a human managed to break the quarantine of Ilos and escape the capture of the Salarian recon team that found him."

"That man's dead. I personally oversaw his trial and execution, Ms. Lawson," the former soldier barked angrily.

"He's being held by you and the Alliance here, on the Citadel, David," Shepard interjected.

David Anderson inwardly cursed Cerberus for their damn espionage techniques. That information was classified at the highest level. If the other councilors knew for a second what he had done, they would call for a vote to strip him of his council status. All of the work he had put into strengthening humanity's political position for the last two years would all go to waste. Still, it was Shepard making the threat. The two were friends. He wouldn't betray his friend and mentor so easily.

"That man is dangerous, John. I don't know how else to describe him. He's been kept in a chemically induced coma for the last two years because we couldn't control him. You're wasting your time."

"That statement would make sense if you weren't keeping him alive," Miranda pointed out.

"Damn it, listen to me!" Anderson shouted as he stood up again. "He could be the only tie that the council has to the Reapers! How can you ask me to give that up, John? How?"

Shepard's tone softened slightly as he locked eyes with the man who had helped train him, who had always had faith in him, and who had put absolutely everything on the line for him two years previously. "David, you've said it yourself. The council doesn't care about the Reapers. This man could be a valuable asset in the war against them but he's wasted the way he is now. Let me take him. Cerberus can take the blame for faking his execution and no one would be the wiser as to your involvement."

The older man looked down at his empty desk, unable to look this man he had once known in the eye. "You'll take him regardless of what I say, won't you?"

"Yes," Miranda replied for Shepard in a kind attempt to redirect the guilt away from him.

"Fine."

Two hours later, Captain Armando Bailey, escorted by three Turian and two human C-Sec officers entered one of the Alliance's most secure bases aboard the Citadel. Disguised as a simple warehouse in the wards, Councilor Anderson had been using this building for the last two years in order to carry out human and Alliance related interactions that he wanted kept secret from the rest of the council. Bailey was one of only half a dozen or so individuals to know the true purpose behind the warehouse. Even the agents following him believed it to simply be an archive where the former soldier kept hard copies of his old mission reports, investigations, and war trophies. The fact that a prisoner was being held in such a location would have shocked and appalled millions aboard the Citadel.

Nonetheless, Bailey had seen the security footage and he knew what the prisoner could do with his powers. While the treatment he had received couldn't be classified as humane, it certainly was no less than he deserved. Time and time again, the C-sec officer had considered breaking in during the night and carrying out his own execution. It would have saved the human councilor a lot of grief if the story of his defiance ever came to light. He had gone rogue as a council member and disobeyed the direct verdict of the very organization that he served. Anderson could be stripped of his political status and humanity might never see such influence in galactic affairs again. All in all, Bailey was glad that the prisoner would be taken off of the Citadel. He had always been a little too close to home for comfort.

The C-Sec officers passed by the rows upon rows of filing cabinets, ignoring all of them. At the far end of the building, a large storage bin, four meters tall and ten across, stood erect. Bailey walked briskly, almost at a jog, towards the bin. An old style padlock, as well as a contemporary retina scanner and keypad held the doors secure. It took him but a moment to key in the combination, have his retina scanned, and manually unlock the pad. Once the security measures were out of the way, he swung the large metal doors wide open.

"What sort of war trophy is this?" a Turian officer asked as he looked inside of the bin.

On what looked like an altar, a large medical pod stood erect. Various devices had been connected to it in order to ensure it remained active, even in cases of power outages. Bailey had been one of the men in charge of stowing the oblong shaped human container in this storage facility. He had hoped never to take it out again. Swallowing deeply, the C-sec captain directed his men to disconnect the spare power supplies. The device would remain in stasis for at least twelve hours after being deactivated. Unless someone specifically injected the prisoner with drugs to counteract the effect of the narcotics in his system, he would stay out for at least that long. Bailey just prayed that the prisoner would be off the Citadel by the time the morons woke him up.

He got his wish. Not long after Citadel Security removed the stasis pod from Councilor Anderson's storage facility, it was deposited in the cargo bay of Shepard's new Normandy and the Cerberus vessel left in peace. Once the Normandy was a safe distance from any real sort of civilization, Shepard called for his team to assemble.

"Garrus, Jacob, and Miranda, I want guns on this guy the second he comes out of the pod. He killed good military Salarians. I don't want to take any chances. Mordin, you and I are going to act as negotiators. This is a hostile situation. Treat it as such. If he becomes violent, anyone in this room has authorization to put a bullet in his head."

Commander Shepard gave this speech as he walked down the stairs, into the lower portion of the cargo bay. He came to stand by the pod and activated his omni-tool. The orange holographic interface appeared and he keyed in the override commands for the pod. Before pressing the final execute sequence, he turned and looked about the room.

"Is everyone ready?"

Garrus, Jacob, and Miranda all had their weapons trained on the stasis pod. Mordin kept his sidearm at his belt but was more than ready to grab it if the need arose. Shepard locked eyes with each of them in order to confirm that they were indeed ready to begin. Once he had done this, he pressed the last button in the sequence.

A metallic hum echoed throughout the room as the portable prison depressurized. Compressed oxygen ejected from the pod, causing a slight fog to fill the room for a moment. It cleared away quickly as the top portion of their new ally's cell slid up and to the side. Once the fog cleared, Shepard took a step forward. Inside of the pod, the prisoner remained dormant. A complicated set of tubes and medical equipment plugged into him, keeping him unconscious. Shepard crouched down and carefully pulled an IV from his right forearm. The drugs that had kept him under for the last two years were no longer being pumped in. Still, there were probably hundreds of centiliters still floating about his system.

Shepard moved back and nodded to Mordin. The Salarian, with a syringe in hand, moved towards the pod. He fell to one knee and quickly injected the dormant man with a syringe full of meds that would counteract the effects of the sleeping drugs. He pulled the needle out and looked up at the rest of the crew.

"Effects should become apparent soon. Six, maybe eight minutes. Hard to tell. Metabolism and health of subject this age and size, easy to calculate. Decreased response time due to long period of inactivity may cause errors though."

Before Mordin could say anymore, Revan sat bolt up in his pod, locked his arm around the scientist's throat, and growled viciously in his ear. "Nobody move!" he cried out violently as he pulled himself to his feet.

"Jacob, take the shot!" Garrus shouted to the Cerberus Operative, who, based on his current position, had the best chance of taking out Revan without hurting Mordin.

"Stop!" Shepard ordered before Jacob could respond. "Everyone calm down. We're all on the same side!"

Revan sneered at the remark and quickly added pressure to the Salarian's windpipe. He quickly took stalk of his surroundings. He was on another ship, different from the one where he had woken up before. There were other humans around, which felt like a nice change. Other than that, however, he couldn't decipher very much from the cargo hold. How long had he been unconscious? The last thing that his memory recalled had to do with being shot by one of the strange aliens that looked like the one he held hostage now.

"Where am I?" he demanded as he looked to Shepard. He could tell by the man's posture and attitude that he held command of the ship that they were on. He wouldn't waste his time addressing everyone. The conversation had just become a one way line between the two.

"You're about the Normandy," the recently resurrected soldier answered as he bid his crew to lower their weapons. "I'm Commander John Shepard."

"And why am I here?"

"Let my scientist go. We don't want to hurt you," the commander told Revan. "Let's not get out of hand."

"Why am I here?" the Sith Lord repeated angrily.

"You were put into a cryogenic coma after you became hostile aboard a Salarian vessel two years ago. My superior had us break you out. We need your help."

Revan quickly delved into the Force in order to read the man's aura. Sure enough, there didn't appear to be any deceit in his words. Cautiously, the Dark Lord loosened his grip on the alien's neck and let him go. Mordin quickly scurried away from him and rejoined his crew. Everyone in the room relaxed slightly. Only Miranda kept her gun on the prisoner.

Revan glanced at the Cerberus Operative and did a quick scan of her body. She seemed to be poorly armored in her jump suit, which would make penetration easier if she became trigger happy. Her weapon was above the size of an average blaster pistol and had a clip attached to the bottom that held more ammunition than a typical pistol, indicating to him that it was at least a semi-automatic weapon. He wondered idly if he'd be able to dodge the rounds that came from it. He had been over confident when trying to take over the recon vessel and apparently he had lost two years of his life as a result.

Two years. That thought alone was daunting. What could have happened in two years? Had his forces followed his plan to the letter and at last overthrown the Republic? Or had the lesser Sith Lords fallen to infighting and power struggles. Did Bastila still live? What had happened to Mina? He needed answers. Unfortunately, from what he had been able to tell before going into his coma, the people of this part of space were completely unaware of the events that were going on in his portion of the galaxy. Maybe things had changed in two years but he doubted it. The curiosity that he sensed in the people around him indicated that they didn't know anything about him. That could be both a blessing and a curse.

"I want to know everything," Revan said as he locked eyes with Commander Shepard.