Well, I do believe I am actually settling into something of a standard here, publishing on the eve of Monday, or as for some the night before Sunday... I dunno, it just makes more sense I guess.

Well, this will most likely be the last filler for some time, seeingas we've had a few of those lately, but as the description states, this story is more oriented towards development and description, while the action-scenes are some chapters in-between.

I'm going to reveal as much as that we're going to start a side-mission in this chapter, one I think has been underway for quite some time.

Well, without further adoo-dee-doo, we're off.

A betterment of standings

Normandy Crew quarters 11:17 (Ship-time)

Stepping out of the showers, I can still feel how my arms, or more specifically the right one, is burning like I just stuck it down into a pool of molten lava.

How the hell did Ash talk me into that? Sure, let's do push-ups Thomas, we'll stop before you die Thomas… bollocks.

When I entered that work-out, I actually thought I could do more than her, because… well, she's a woman. Lesson to all sexists… women can be strong as hell. Seriously, I think I took it up to about thirty-five, but Ash just kept going and going and… why did I never take a look at her arms before now? They are fucking buff! I mean, not in the same style as Nick, but still way more muscled than me. Then again, I suppose that doesn't say all that much. Still, I'm in better shape now than I've ever been, meaning that I'm in better shape now than before the hospital.

Looking at the mirror while drying, I can't help but wonder at my scars. The one running down my left eye is healing up pretty well, but will probably be there for the rest of my life. The gash on my forehead is doing fine. When I asked Chakwas, she assured me that it would be gone in perhaps a few weeks. I guess I can live with that.

Rolling my shoulders, I can feel and hear the pops and cracks resulting from the exercise. I am still amazed at the fact that my left arm fully functions again, just one day after being dislocated and short-circuited. I have no idea what Emhart actually made this from, or how… and frankly, I'm almost afraid to ask. It just doesn't seem normal that one can recuperate from something like that in less than twenty-four hours.

Sighing, I finish drying, toss the towel in the dry-ribs and put on my regular uniform. It's only been a few days since I had it on the last- no wait, I actually had it on only… what was it, yesterday? Damn, I can't even remember… let's see, I had it on when I left the hospital… then I donned the gala uniform, got blown up… ended up on… oh… I had it on just yesterday actually… Damn, my mind is starting to slip.

There is this one problem though… I still can't decide how or if to tell Joker about my past. Thinking about it, I've hardly spent any time with the guy, even though he was one of my favorite characters… for the love of- I've got to stop thinking of this like being in a game. I actually thought I had gotten rid of that habit by now. Turns out I was wrong apparently.

I mean, sure Joker is a great guy, and it isn't like he could blow my cover, since it practically doesn't exist anymore, but still, I don't want the guy freaking out.

"Then do not tell him. Remember, that for things to progress as they are supposed to, the Normandy will be destroyed. I doubt he would actually allow that to happen if he knew about it."

"I know… I've thought about this before… but, it just doesn't seem… even Chakwas knows…"

"I advise you to refrain from telling him, if nothing else then for the sake of his mind, but it is ultimately your choice."

"Fine… fine, I'll wait then… and then I'll consider it again, how does that sound?"

"Like my wisdom is rubbing off on you."

"Pfftt, yeah right…" Wisdom? Yeah he's really been dealing out of that lately. That being said, I probably couldn't have convinced Tevos and Sparatus without his help. He's earned that much. Walking out of the quarters, I decide to check if John is in the CIC. If he doesn't have any missions planned, maybe that means I can finally get some reading done. I especially want to know just what the Hell Emhart meant with the 'Vikings'. I mean, they were North-Atlantic raiders from Scandinavia back in the eleventh century, so what did he mean by 'later on' when he mentioned them? Heading for the stairs, I hope to find John standing, either at the galaxy map, like a good captain… or is it called a commander, even onboard the ship? Hell, I don't know. Either at the map, or in the cockpit with Joker. I've noticed Nihlus seems to be spending a fair amount of time there, when he isn't trying to reeducate Garrus, that is.

When I enter the CIC, I find our good captain standing at the Galaxy map, having a talk with Presley. I can't hear what it's about, and I'm not really that interested either, though the mentioning of something or someone called 'Saleon' makes me curious. I wonder if that is some new kind of star system, where we haven't been before, or… yeah, it's probably that. When they have finished their conversation, I wait till John notices me before approaching him. A good guy as he might be, he is still my commanding officer, so I have to exercise at least a minimum of military conduct, meaning that I can't just approach him like a friend or something like that when on duty. Finally, he notices me;

"Corporal, what can I do for you?" he says with a nod. I stand at attention. At least, I try to. It's still a little difficult, but I'm getting better at it.

"Shepard, I have been thinking… are there any missions for us in the near future?"

"No, not for the next day or so. After Tengberg mentioned the possibility of Liara's mother being on Noveria, I asked the council for advice on the matter. They have currently sent a STG-team to check out the place. If Benezia is there, we'll know about it. But for the moment, we are trying to track down a Salarian named Saleon. A maniac apparently, harvesting people's organs."

"Scheise… how did you learn about him… or her?" Man, that guy sounds sick… cutting people open like that?

"Garrus told me about him. Back when he still worked in C-Sec, Garrus attempted to track down and arrest him, but the Bosh'tet slipped away, fleeing the Citadel with a bunch of hostages. A pissin' shame they didn't just shoot him out of the sky, if you ask me." John says, crossing his arms and leaning against the CIC's frame.

"But… what about the hostages?"

"Thomas… what do you think he did with them as soon as he was safe?"

"Don't know eh… let them go?" I say, throwing out my hands in exasperation. John just shakes on the head.

"No… as far as Garrus was informed, he kept the poor Bosh'tets as living test-subjects… they are probably dead long ago now, but at least we can bring the asshole to justice… if we can find him that is… but, you asked if there was anything in the near future? No, not today I think. Just be ready if we are suddenly boarded, okay?" He says the last part with a slight smile in his voice. I snap at the salute again, smiling at him. Just because I'm not really supposed to be informal with him, at least if you ask Nihlus, it doesn't mean I can't have a bit of fun with him.

"Aye commander, I'll be downstairs then."

"Alright, but one thing first… who took most push-ups, you or Williams?" Ehmm… what?

"Say again sir?"

"Just answer the question." John says, a more serious tone in his voice now.

"Well… Ashley did… beat my ass through the floor." I say, still remembering how Ash just kept going and going. Seriously, would I have been like that if I had had more time in the military before Sovereign attacked?

"Ashley? Damn, now I have to face down Garrus and give him the money… next time, do better." Wait a… John betted on me? I was part of… a game? Weird… Shrugging, I turn around and head back to the crew quarters. Picking up my lap-top from the nearby table, I decide that I might as well go sit in the mess hall for this. Besides, reading alone in a quiet room? Usually that sounds like my kind of thing, but right now I'd rather sit at a proper table, with people around me. Even though Garrus is probably going to come through there as well, bragging about how he bested the commander in a bet. Like I ever actually had a chance.

The entire mess hall carries the scent of fish, smoked fish actually. Looking at the kitchen-are, I see Nicolai standing at the big desk, cramming out sandwiches at a pace that would put a machine to shame. Most of them seem to be with either tuna or lamb. Don't get me wrong, I love lamb, but the fat on it? Urgh, the most disgusting thing the Gods ever invented. He seems to be so engulfed in his work, I decide to leave him be for the moment. Other than the two of us, Jane is also in here, reading a book while nursing a cup of tea… smells a bit like cinnamon.

Having made myself a canny of Licorice tea, I carry it and a plastic mug with me to the nearest table, the one where Jane is sitting. Placing my computer on the table opposite of her, I sit down with a sigh;

"Nice speech earlier Fisher, sure you've never done that before?" She says, not taking her eyes from the book. I can't see what it is called, but it is not an English name, I can see that much: "'Sál vaknað' af Saga Jonsson". Okay, I officially have no fucking idea what that means, though the last part looks a bit like the Danish "by Saga Jonsson"… not a name I recognize.

"Funny, Ash asked me the same thing earlier… what are you reading?" I ask, pointing at the book while pouring the tea. Giving me a small, yet sad smile, Jane turns the book's front page to see it herself;

"It's called "Awoken Soul", by Saga Jonsson… one of my favorites." She says, pointing at each word as she translates it; "It's about a warrior woman, feeling only the heat of battle and no connection to her fellows. Until the day where she meets a heathen warrior who conquers her heart." I can't help but notice the hint of sadness in her voice. Wonder if it has some connection to her own life…

"What language is it in by the way? I have no idea, but it almost resembles Danish… if only a bit." Jane nods;

"Yeah, it's in Icelandic… one of the few things I did when I wasn't working my ass off back before the whole… thing on Virmire happened, was reading. This one… well, not this one, but this book was a gift from… from an old friend…taught me the language as well."

Ahh, so whomever gave her that book must have meant something to her… maybe that's why she hasn't taken much notice of Garrus's obvious attempts of charming her. Really, the digital version was more impressive in that matter. Here the other day, I think one or two hours after he had seen Jane for the first time, Garrus went to ask her if they should "work out some stress" together. Mara, even I know what that means, and I'm… never mind. Let's just say she wasn't that responsive.

"Sorry, he must miss you a lot…" I say, not really knowing how to respond to this. Somewhere back in Jane's old universe, there's likely some completely emotionally messed up guy, looking in hell and heaven to find her. Poor bastard…

"I don't think so…" Jane just says, looking down her own mug.

"Why not? Were you… was it a bad break or… sorry, that isn't any of my business…" I say, mirroring her own motion and stare down my steaming mug of licorice tea. A long sigh follows. Coming from Jane, that surprises me a bit. Don't know why exactly;

"He's dead… was killed right in front of me… let's just leave it at that, okay?" She says, her voice more stern now. Looking at her face, her lips are a thin line, nothing more and her eyes are averting mine.

"Fuck…I'm sorry about that… but… can I ask you about something else?" I say, remembering the talk I had with Kaidan, where he told me what Torfan actually is… or was, I guess. Still, there's just something about the way Jane… is, that makes me want to forget about it, like it would be kicking someone lying down already. Kicking a broken soul…

"Sure… what?" She says, looking to face me again.

"I… never mind, I… forgot what it was…" I… I just can't, not right now. Later… I think. Hell, she saved my life, it's hard being pissed at someone who did that. It's… odd, disturbing actually. Seeing Shepard, the god-like hero and commander, being nothing but a mortal human and a broken soldier.

"Fine… what are you browsing for anyway?" She says, noticing the computer.

"Oh… just some stuff Emhart, the doctor who patched me up was mentioning… speaking of which: Thanks… for getting me off Feros." I say, giving her a smile. She mirrors it, though with a small hint of sadness still left in her eyes.

"Don't mention it… besides; I'm sure Ashley would have gone down there herself if I had left you… right after she would have torn my head off my shoulders with her bare hands… believe me, I've seen her mad before… only, never like she was when… like when we met for the first time along with you." She says, a faint but sad smile formed on her lips.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine… well, as fine as one can be, living with the guilt of meeting a dead person… or, a person who was dead until recently… you following me?"

"I think so… or, Nicolai would probably, seeing as I died first, then he kinda followed… just don't ask him about it, okay? I think he might still be upset about it, just doesn't show it."

"Yeah, I'll leave him be then. Still, do you… have you ever done anything, and you don't have to give an example, but ever done anything that cost the life of someone you held dear? Something you wished you could go back and change?" She says, her radiant green eyes locking with mine, drilling through my soul.

"I… I guess… but that's what I'm trying to change, why I'm here, why I'm doing what I'm doing… even if it sometimes seems like a madman's doing…" I say, emptying my second cup of tea. Without even hesitating, I refill it.

"Not at all, the madman-part I mean… so far you strike me as a good guy Fisher, even though I still have a hard time comprehending the circumstances for your presence here… or that spirit-guy… I'm glad I at least don't have him in my head…" She says, a small chuckle in her voice. I just sigh, shaking my head;

"You have no idea… by the way, isn't it a bit weird to still be the commander, but having to, like… obey orders from a guy such as John?"

"A little, yeah… but he seems to care about the crew at least as much as I do, and he has yet to fuck up… so, so far I think I can cope with it… being second in command is kinda what I did until Anderson resigned… guess I had my fifteen minutes in the spotlight, eh?"

"I suppose…by the way, Jane… can I call you that?" She nods; "What do you know about the Vikings?" I ask.

"Ehm… guys with horns and big beards?" She says, a small frown on her face. Great, even Commander Shepard thinks the Vikings had horned helmets… bodes well for the educational future of the human race…

"Never mind, I don't think that's it anyway…" I say, turning my attention towards my computer, now fully started up and awaiting my command. Let's see… 'Vikings, modern warriors'… open…

Well… I'll be… damned… I can't help but be a little impressed at what I'm reading here.

…

Cargo hold 17:59 (ship time)

"Hey Garrus."

"Thomas? You never come down here… though I suspect I'm not the reason for it. It wouldn't be because of Ash working down here, now would it?" He says, flashing the Turian version of a grin.

"Actually, I did come down here to talk to you."

"Oh?" He says, replacing the grin with a talon on his mandible, looking at me in a pondering stance;

"This guy… Saleon, we're going after… what kind of guy is he? John told me that he did some organ-harvesting, but… that can't be all that uncommon. What made him stand out?"

"If you really want to know, then I hope you have a strong kidney for those kinds of things… or is it stomach?" Garrus asks, scratching his… chin. Yeah, I guess I'd call it his chin, although Turians don't really have that.

"Well… Saleon… back in my C-Sec days, I was on this case with bodies being emptied of organs, and I mean emptied… not even the intestines or the balls, when it concerned males. It was mostly humans, but Turians and Salarians also felt the knife… so to speak. After some time, when the morgues had been secured by regular soldiers and military C-Sec personnel, the maniac started abducting citizens from the streets. After some time, when the recorded 'kill-count' had amounted to about 92, we got a lead. Or, I got a lead. We had a Turian brought in, didn't remember a thing from the last five days he said. We took a scan to see if he had been one of the people abducted… but spirits, it was worse than that. This asshole, not the Turian, but the maniac… he didn't just harvest organs from people, he grew new ones inside them. This turian was walking around with five hearts and three kidneys… Turians don't have more than two kidneys and two hearts. This guy was a walking, breathing test-tube. It was like he was a farm… just in Turian shape. The next day, I went to find Saleon, searched all over the wards, in every single little clinic, almost lost my badge more than once when I kicked a few doors in, interviewed people… but it paid off in the end."

"But… I thought he got away?" I'm not sure I follow now. But John did say something about hostages… that would explain some things.

"He did… he had hostages, so I wasn't allowed to go in. In the end he got away on a shuttle, free to leave as no one dared shooting him down." Garrus says, an angry scowl forming on his face.

"But… what would you have done then, killed the hostages?" I can't believe Garrus would do that. It just doesn't seem like him. Or… maybe it does, and I just haven't been paying attention.

"They were dead anyway… the least we could have done was to end their misery." He states, almost sounding like my old drill sergeant in home defense. And that's not a good thing.

"Mara… Garrus, isn't that a bit… cold?"

"Perhaps… listen Thomas. I don't know how that game of yours painted our galaxy, but it's a cold and dark place. There's no such thing as a happy ending after each adventure. Criminals often get away because the law is too soft or corruptible, the officers not willing to make the hard choices, and the lawyers too corrupt and non-caring to see the worst cases through. Someone's got to make the hard decisions at some point, and I'll be damned if it falls to me and I let it slip."

"Right, right… sorry, just… I'm not used to hear people discuss killing that… casually."

"I know, but sooner or later, reality will come bite your ass when some maniac with a gun is standing in front of you with his gun against an innocent's temple. For what it's worth though, I admire your… idealism." He says, turning back to make his repairs on the Mako. The gun-turret looks a bit different than the last time I saw it, though I can't really put my finger on the difference. Nodding to the Turian, I head for the last part of the ship I haven't been in yet: The weapons-section. It's basically a two-part section, one being a large shack-like room containing just about every kind of gun I've ever seen… and then some. I'm serious, this place looks like Santa's workshop after a renovation passed through. There are even tons of different spare parts, raw materials and wires… to put it in a shorter way: I could build a full-sized and functional robot-Krogan with these things, and the parts would hardly be missed. Besides the shack, there is also a weapons bench of sorts, like the ones Jacob was always rummaging on in Mass Effect two. And, standing next to Wrex, obviously engaged in a conversation, Ash is fiddling with something on the bench, probably preparing her rifle or something like that. I should probably do the same, seeing as my rifle and pistol has been through two major encounters, and one colonial escape.

"…way he would be able to use that Williams… oh, better hide it, here he comes…" I can just pick up the last of Wrex's sentence, and now… well, I'm pretty damn curious.

"Shit… help me cover…" Ash says, tossing blankets and scrap onto whatever she was working on. Okay… so I guess it isn't her rifle…

"Hey Wrex" I say, nodding to the lumbering beast of a Krogan; "And hey to you Ash. What are you doing there?" I say, walking up to her and trying to sneak a peek around her shoulder. She quickly pushes me away, but I'm pretty sure I saw something glinting. Metal, I think;

"Tho- Thomas, go away, okay? You can't see what I'm… I mean, it's just a boring retrofit…. You know, gun-cleaning?" Okay… I've never ever heard her fumble with words before, well except for when she was drunk, but she is sober as day right now, so it must be due to nervousness.

"Can I join you? I think I need to have my guns checked anyway." I can't help a smirk as her frustration becomes even more apparent;

"Okay… but I… think I saw your rifle over there somewhere…" She says, pointing to the opposite end of the room. She wants me gone long enough to hide it? Oh, if only I weren't this damn curious!

"Then I will just go retrieve it." I say, full well knowing it is actually in my weapons locker. And, conveniently, that locker is less than two meters to Ash's left. But I'll play by her rules. I once had my Christmas-present found by my mom, and it just didn't have the same… feeling when she unpacked it two months later. So, I walk to the far end, obviously not finding anything;

"Oh Ash, I don't think it's over here." I call. Damn, this is just too funny.

"Never mind, I found it in your locker!" She calls back, waving the red Lancer-II in the air. Sighing, I shake my head and return to grab it;

"Somehow, I have a faint suspicion that you knew where it was all along Ash." I say, taking the gun. My pistol is in the locker as well, just as my armored boots and one of the gauntlets. I guess that was about all that could be salvaged from Feros. I can't help but look at it for some time, just wondering how the hell come no more than this survived the blast. Ash seems to notice my stare;

"Don't worry, we managed to salvage most of it, Mark is going over it now, has been for the last few weeks actually."

"Mark?"

"Oh, right. He's our requisitions-officer, as well as helping out Strossberg in the armory. They have been working their asses off restoring your armor. I even heard they were trying to compensate for some of the weaknesses in it."

"Oh… that's great. I'll remember to drop by thanking them after this." I say, walking over to the bench next to Ash and placing my hand-gun on it. As much as I hate to admit it, the wimpy Raikou-pistol has actually saved my ass more times than the Lancer has. I wonder if it is because it takes longer to overheat, or just because it's a bit handier in closer quarters.

And I have now joined the group called 'gun-lovers'… I think.

…

Normandy meeting room 19:21 (ship time)

Having received the final schematics from Ash, and after having being berated on how much I suck at cleaning and assembling my guns by Wrex, I headed up here to the meeting room. Fumbling a bit with the new Omnitool, I can't help but wonder how come this one is so much more advanced than my first one, yet easier to handle. Well, here's the different stuff I've yet to show Anna… just wish I had the engines for the hyper-drives… and where the hell IS Kasumi?

Shaking the last though off, I turn to face the console for the QEC-vid. Now comes the tough part: how the hell to turn this on. Okay… I may need a bit of help here, there are no buttons to press! Sighing, I exit the room again, heading for the cockpit. I'm pretty sure Joker must know how to turn the damn thing on.

"Hey Joker, do you know how to open communications with the Citadel from that meeting room? I can't figure out how to turn it on." I say as the pilot turn in his seat.

"Oh that's a tough one. I think the commander is the only one allowed to use it though. Is too important for you to just send an email?" He says.

"Well… not really. I guess I can just send the files over the extra-net. Thanks." I say, giving him a smile while I turn to walk away. When I've reached the end of the corridor from the cockpit, he calls after me;

"Oh yeah by the way, did you know that that room has always been equipped with cameras and mikes? I can't help but wonder what would happen if a big important revelation took place in there, and no one bothered switching off surveillance." He says it with a grin, but that doesn't help the lump of ice that instantly smashes my innards. Slowly turning to face him, I can see him sitting there, looking at me with a wry smirk on his face. Holy… fuck… he knows?

"For some reason, I am not really surprised…"

"Cat got your tongue eh? Can't mister Boom voice speak for you?" That grin on his face… it's almost unnerving.

"How… long have you… did you listen in on the meeting?" I say, not really capable of forming more intelligent sentences.

"Yeah well… my job would be a little boring if I only flew the ship. Don't get me wrong, I can sorta understand why I wasn't informed at the meeting, but afterwards? It would have been nice to be found trustworthy, you know?"

"I… that… I guess… crap, sorry Jeff, I just… I was afraid you might freak out and hurt yourself or something…" I can't really come up with anything better. The truth is, that I didn't want him to know since he is one of those who took losing the Normandy the hardest, flight being his life and all.

"Ha ha… Brittle-bone jokes are so funny, aren't they?" He grumbles, though the look in his eyes changes from annoyed to mildly… annoyed, I guess. Building the courage to chase the subject, I smirk at the pilot;

"Yeah well, you could say I'm having a crack at it today."

"Oh you are so getting it later… from Ashley, mind you. I'd break my hands if I punched you."

"Oh? Be careful not to break too many bones when having Joker-time up here, eh? We need your right hand intact." I retort. Okay, so that was a low blow, I admit it.

"Really? Sunk thát low have we? Well, I'll just get back to piloting the ship. You know, because I'm the best pilot in the galaxy."

"Alright, break a leg." I grin. The pilot just sighs, looking exasperated with my tirades.

"I hate you. Well not 'hate' because that's more reserved for Saren, but when you slide in a puddle of water, I'll be there, laughing." He smirks. There is a short pause where none of us speak, then he coughs a little, as if to illustrate something; "Well, any other secrets I've yet to be let in on, now that we're at it?" He says, leaning back in the chair.

"Nope… that's about it." I lie, not wanting to tell him about Alchera, and what happens there.

"Alright… then I guess I will just return to work, you know, praying that that ghost-guy isn't going to haunt the ship or something."

"I can't haunt a ship. At the most I can take over a machine, like a geth-platform, but the ship? Even if I wanted to, which I don't, I doubt I would be very good at interfacing and interacting with the systems."

"Great… but I'm not going to tell him that. He seems to be okay… well, 'Joker-okay' and that would just… I don't know, can we just get out of here?"

"It's your body, you move it." Right… good point. Turning around again I head back downstairs to the mess hall where I left the laptop. Garrus has replaced Jane, munching on what I guess is a Dextro-amino sandwich. Either that or he's got a death wish. Feeling a bit hungry myself, I grab one from the plate positioned in the kitchen. Lamb? Great, let's hope he removed the fat. Carrying my provisions, I sit down and open the laptop.

Alright… where is the email… there… now… wait, what the hell is Anna's address by the way? That's a hurdle. I've got no idea what her email is… Wonder if one can simply search for it? Hmm… ADMIRAL ANNA FISHER… five results? Hmm… nope, she's on Earth… nope, dead… nope… ah, there we go. Turns out that Anna is quite a popular name, and I just can't remember that other name she has as well. Okay… here goes. I start punching out the letter.

"Hey Anna, it's me Thomas. Look, it was bit of difficult to find your address here, since you never really gave it to me, but I've some good news, and some bad news. The good news first I guess. I've decided to send the rest of the schematics and weapons at once, since I haven't been able to get into contact with my supplier. Anyway, here are the schematics, including those for a hyper-modern gun-ship capable of combat roles in space- and ship to ship battles, as well as acting as a boarding craft and support in boarding missions. The LA/AT gunship is also equipped with plasma and ion-weapons I think, so try and get techs to reverse-engineer it or whatever it is that you people do with new tech. Also, the Marlow, that's the big ship I'm sending, could be used as well. I think. It doesn't possess any kinetic barriers like the Cheyenne-gunship, and not as many weapons as a regular dreadnaught, but it is at least twice the size and capable of FTL, so try and get something from it, okay?

The rest of these are regular weapons and vehicles, I think, but they will probably be helpful in ground-battles. Try passing the sentry gun on to either Hackett or Sparatus, yes the councilor. Just ignore the fact that he is an ass, and help him organize any plans he might have, it's really important, okay?

As for me, I'm well… well, as well as one can be on a warship ;)

I am not sure how you guessed it was Ash, but how do you like her so far? It may sound a bit weird, but being my only living relative, your opinion of her matters to me. Please don't tell me you don't like her. That would really suck

We're on our way to apprehend some maniacal villain who specializes in harvesting people's organs, and now the Turian on our team, Garrus (heard of him?) wants to finish what he started some years ago and kill the bastard.

Phew, that was a long mail, but I felt like I needed to get it all out. How are you by the way?

Thomas."

Well, that was a pretty long message, now to send... What the- eighty credits to send a message? Who the fuck demands money for something like that? I hate the future sometimes…

…

September 29th

Illium

Dry-dock D-47

19.25 (Illium Standard time. Eastern time zone. Nos Astra)

"Tara, can you hand me that welder? No, the 'X5' one. I need… yeah, that one, thanks." Magnus had been hard at work for the past four days, evaluating what parts of the ship needed the repairs the most, what they could recycle, what could be moved and what had to be scrapped. Fortunately, the last part had been relatively rare in occurrence; only the transparent materials in the cockpit had needed replacing so far, being the most vital part of the ships integrity.

The rest of the hull had only suffered from superficial damage, meaning it was still airtight, but would probably be torn to pieces during re-entry in atmosphere. When Tara had offered to help him weld a particular piece of the hull, under the belly of the ship, he had gotten a strange feeling when he caught her looking at him from what she might have thought was out of sight. It was like back when he woke up first, like it was the eyes of a predator. It made him uneasy, but not frightened. It was like something was going on, something he didn't have control over. And he hated it when he didn't have control. Currently, he was kneeling under the belly of the Ashanti, busy welding the different holes and scraps the ship had sustained. It already looked like someone had done that a long time ago, but the welding looked poorly done and as if in a hurry.

It was also covered with rust in different places, and Tara had had to give the entire underside a load of Gear-Spray, a special concoction meant to reverse the effect of oxidation in steel and iron. The work was one of the most trivial Magnus had done in a long time, as well as one of the harder. When he was underneath the ship, the warmth created by the torch couldn't go up, so instead it went to the sides, heating up the space where he was enough so that he had been forced to discard his coat and instead work in his undershirt. What he might have suspected, but couldn't know, was that this was exactly why Tara had asked him to work on the belly. Had he looked at her when he was busy fastening one of the plates, he would have been mildly shocked to see a blush visible through her visor.

"Thanks" He said as the wrench slid over the floor to where he was sitting. Exhaling, he straightened his back and sat up straighter, only to bump his head into the hull of the multi-tons freighter, causing him to swear and curse with words that could have made a geth blush and a Krogan look away in shame.

"Thor fucking Dammit… I'm going to have on hell of a headache later… scratch that, it's already here…" He mumbled, rubbing his head.

"Magnus, should I be happy or disappointed that most of those words didn't translate?" Tara called with a joking voice. Magnus exhaled and felt a small smile force its way to his face. His existence had improved drastically ever since meeting Tara, and she had become a good friend, even despite the occasional weird stare she sent him. He couldn't quite make out just what they meant, but he couldn't help feel a small shiver down his spine when he caught her stare. He hated not knowing what was going on.

"Happy probably." He called back, his voice echoing back and forth under the ship.

"By the way, I've got a question, if you don't mind." She called back, putting down her own welder to hang upside-down from her place on the hull, holding on with just her strong legs. He couldn't help a smile when she did that. It was a part of her that reminded him of the recklessness he had seen in Jane, the "I don't care what other people think about me" kind of being. Though, thinking back on it, he couldn't quite remember if Jane had ever done that. Hanging topside-down that was.

"Arhh…. Well, shoot." He said, still rubbing his head. Having long hair didn't really act like a helmet after all.

"Why did Jane write that you belonged to her, on your… well, your… your… behind?" Tara said, obviously not sure on how to ask the question without saying something vulgar.

"Ah, that… Well, I guess you could say it was her way of telling other women to stay away from her price, as weird as that may sound. It was just how she was. Hell, I left my own mark on her, as far as I remember. Just… not on the ass." He said, reminiscing about that time when he had done the tattoo job on her. It had to be him who did it. It was a bit too private to allow a professional tattoo-maker to do it. Jane had told him to ignore it if she suddenly punched or kicked him while he worked, as it would probably just be nerves or something automatically. After that night though, it had been a few days before he had gotten anything again. Not that he blamed her. It was painful enough on the ass, so it must have been even worse where he did it.

"So… she didn't trust you to remain with her? Or… am I misunderstanding something here?" Tara asked, swinging down to sit on the floor instead of hanging with her head down.

"Kind of, although it wasn't because she didn't trust me. You see, among humans, I was apparently pretty damn attractive to the women, even a few Asari." Hell, I had to practically turn Liara down directly… damn girl couldn't take a hint…

"Oh… I didn't notice that… I mean, you… I… never mind, let's just get back to work, okay?" She said, almost dropping her tools as she hurried back to her spot on the hull. Magnus just shook his head and sighed before getting back to work. It was getting late.

…

September 30th

Illium

Dry-dock D-47

13.25 (Illium Standard time. Eastern time zone. Nos Astra)

"Alright… I think I've come up with a solution to our non-gun trouble." Magnus said, pulling up a data-file from his Omni-tool. Tara jumped from her seat at a twisted plate on the hull to see what he had on screen.

"I'm listening, what did you find?"

"Well, I worked with a Turian once, not the one on the Normandy, but while I was on a mission with Jane. He had this motto, I can't remember the exact words, but it was something along the lines of: 'If it's shaped like a gun, I can make it fire like one as well.' And… well, I remember something he showed me once. See, what we lack are the guns themselves, no? We can make the controls on our own am I right?"

"Yes… and?"

"Well, what he did was taking a pair of missile launchers, you know, the kind that tracks single targets, and mounted them on the hull, complete with firing-control and everything. Now, as it is, a missile launcher, the cheap ones, come at about 1900 credits a piece, which means we can afford one. As I see it, we have the materials to make the turret, or at least some kind of platform for the launcher. And if not, I can probably ask Atheyta if she has any customers used to that type of work. Then we make the platform and mount the launcher on it, and boom, we've got a means of defense for this thing." He said, patting the ship. Tara just looked at him.

"Are… are you sure that would even work? And if we spend the last money we have on that, what are we going to eat? I've only got so much Levo-amino food left." She said with a worried mine.

"Don't worry about me, I've gone without food for some days before, I can handle it. Just let me know if your own food starts running out though… I don't know how long Quarians can go without food." He said with a slightly less worried mine than her; "Besides, we'll still have a hundred or so credits left… should be enough to last us through the next five weeks, if we even need that long."

"I guess… and I know a few places where they have soup kitchens. It's free if you wash your own utensils, and bring your own plate."

"See? There's nothing to worry about then. Now, go grab yourself a tube, I'll keep working here. I think I'm almost done with that damage under the belly. I don't know what idiot welded that place the last time, but he could just as well have rigged it with C6, it would be torn apart after a few re-entries." He said while stretching his back.

"Are you sure you don't need my help for the next few minutes?"

"Nah, I think I'm good. If anything, see if you can find some news and figure out how the Normandy fares, how long they have gotten." That was another thing he liked about Tara: She plainly accepted his words when he spoke the truth, even if those words were weird or uncomfortable. She also didn't seem to have any trouble handling his past, or his story.

"Sure… I'll be back soon." She said, running off to the small apartment they lived in. No, that was wrong, he thought. She lived there, and allowed him to stay there. Thinking about it, the facial scar had actually been a small price to pay for all of this. Even though he lost a finger while at it. Remembering that evening, he casually held up his left hand and looked at where his ring finger used to be. Instead there was a short stump;

"Dios… well, back to work I guess… now where the hell did I put that welder?"

…

"Welcome to Illium news net, my name is Natria'delsar." The Asari newswoman said, looking into the screen; "Recent news from the colony of Zhu's hope reports evidence of ExoGeni having purposely had the colonists infected with alien spores, allegedly capable of controlling intelligent life-forms like puppets. Alliance representative Donnel Udina is with us on a QEC-channel directly from the Citadel. Ambassador, what is your view on this?"

"It is a deeply disturbing find that a well respected company such as ExoGeni has been dabbling in these sorts of activities. To be honest, I find it downright disgusting what they have done… using humans as puppets and lab-rats… I have already issued a full stop to all alliance funding to ExoGeni, as well as spoken for boycotting their services and goods. These people need to learn that no good will come from this kind of disrespect for life, no matter the race. That it is their own just makes it even more detestable, seeing as humanity was supposed to have moved past that stage at least four hundred years ago. To find it still in existence… believe me, the only reason I haven't had the navy called down to simply destroy these vermin is that I do not have the authority to do so." The human named Udina seemed to be in something between a fit of rage, and something akin to enjoying being given screen-time.

"Ambassador, you speak of an earlier stage in human development. Am I right to believe that this stage is when it was commonplace for humans to have slaves?"

"You are correct Miss Delsar. I, as well as hopefully most humans, believe that one living being cannot hold another against its will, unless a court has deemed it so that the person in question is due for prison. Slavery cannot be accepted, and neither can exploiting other living beings. These people are no better than Batarian slavers in my eyes." Something in what he said caused Tara to consider if he was also talking about the 'indentured servants' so common on Illium.

"Ah, I suspect that last one will earn you some negative mail, but nonetheless, what about the Normandy? The ship that supposedly holds the honor of liberating the colony?"

"Ah yes, now there is a more positive topic. I suspect you are well aware of the fact that it is a human-turian frigate, currently captained by a three-officer team? It's a sign of hope, I think, having people like Alliance Lieutenant Alenko, Council Spectre Nihlus Kryik and Quarian John'Shepard, leading the mission together."

"Yes, that has… been a topic for discussion lately, but what can you tell us of the ship, the crew and how they liberated the colony?"

"Disappointingly little I'm afraid. I really cannot comment on this too much. What I can tell you is that the crew responded to a distress-call from now deceased Fai Dan, the former administrator of Zhu's hope who was killed during the firefights. From what we know, the colony was overrun by the geth, and the Normandy arrived just in the nick of time to save the survivors who had huddled up in the very top levels of the structure Zhu's hope is placed within. After having beaten back waves of geth forces, the Normandy ground teams were capable of going into the deeper bowels of the colony and destroy the plant that had apparently turned the colonists into thralls."

"Sounds like one hell of a fight, if you will excuse my language. Now, were there any allied casualties?"

"Aside from a few colonists who were killed by geth? No, although two of the ground team, the Turian Spectre Nihlus Kryik, and Private Thomas Fisher were… injured in the fight against the geth. Kryik has left Huerta Memorial hospital's physiological wing a few days ago, apparently suffering from a mild case of PTSD. The other, Private Fisher… he fared a bit worse. It has not yet been cleared to me just what happened to him, but apparently he broke several ribs, shattered the left arm and leg, as well as receiving lots of major burns. I can only speculate as to what happened, but obviously, it has left him with some… difficulties."

"Goddess, poor guy. Will he make a full recovery?" The Asari asked, actually gaining a sincere look of worry on her face. Tara couldn't help a small snort. Had it been John'Shepard who had been injured, that woman would just have said 'oh, sorry about that… they are all like that… damned Asari…' Munching down the last bites of her paste, she decided to get the final bits of the interview as well. Shepard might make an appearance. Tara was standing just outside a bar, watching the news.

"He will be just fine. As a matter of fact, I do believe he is to be released from the hospital as well, either today or one of the following. I am actually going to preside at a ceremony in his honor the day he is let out. He was awarded the Purple Heart, a medal given for sacrifice on the battlefield. And, if I am not all wrong, I do believe there is a promotion in the air as well, but please don't tell him that. I believe my colleague Anderson wants to keep that a secret." The human said with a smile. He had been joking, obviously, about the last part. He had been talking on system-wide TV, so of course it was no secret at all. Sometimes Tara didn't understand human behavior at all.

"Well, I'm sure we will all keep quiet about that one ambassador. And with that I do in fact believe that the interview is over. Thank you for joining us Mister Udina." She said to the holographic representation of the human ambassador on the Citadel.

"Oh the pleasure was all mine Miss. Now, if you will excuse me, I am needed elsewhere." He said, ending the transmission. Sighing, Tara started walking back towards the garage. So, no Shepard this time…maybe tomorrow.

…

October 1th

Illium

Dry-dock D-47

15.01 (Illium Standard time. Eastern time zone. Nos Astra)

"Alright, a little lower, yes, a little… careful!" Magnus almost shouted as the transporters placed the crate on the floor. The last thing he needed was for some idiot to damage the cargo. Having found what he was looking for on the extranet, mainly a pair of used heat-seeking missile-launchers to the price of fifteen-hundred credits, meaning there would actually be enough money left to get whatever necessary for the ship or themselves to be ready. Magnus had a few ideas, but refrained from giving them bigger consideration until the weapons were mounted. 'This is going to be a pain installing… cheap crap better be worth it' he thought, unpacking the crate. Before him, nestled in a mixture of small white foam-thingies and plastic encasements, lay a pair of ML-77 missile launchers, both showing signs of earlier use, but aside from a few dents here and there, they did not appear any worse for wear. Taking a small step back, he pulled one of the launchers from the crate, feeling the weight and testing the general condition of the weapon.

"Hmmm…. Yes, this will do I think… how much ammunition comes with this?" He asked one of the men assigned to transport the crate. The person in mention pulled up a manifest to find that particular bit of data.

"About thirty-six missiles in total. We could not press them for more." He said, turning off the datapad.

"That's fine. Tell Atheyta thanks for me, and then I do believe there was the matter of payment?"

"Yes, I believe this will all amount to fifteen-hundred credits in total. I do not know why the old lady agreed to sell these for so little, but hell if it's my place to ask. By the way… you aren't thinking of… blowing something up with these, are you?"

"Not if we can avoid it. It's merely for safety's sake." Magnus said as he ran the chit over the man's Omni-tool, being rewarded with a small bib.

"Pleasure doing business with you sir, and you as well miss." The man said, nodding towards Tara who had stayed mostly in the background, not wanting to ruin the meeting if the man had turned out to be hostile towards Quarians.

Turning from the Elkoss combine owned shuttle as it lifted off, Magnus put the launcher back into its crate, sealing it again.

"Well, now that we have the weapons secured… how handy are you with remotely controlled point-and-shoot turrets Tara?"

"Well… I can probably make it work, just haven't done it before… you?" Tara said, giving the crate an extra look.

"Nah, I'm not much good with that kind of electronics… just leave the welding to me, if you can manage something with those launchers." Magnus said, picking the welder back up from the ground. Giving Tara a small smile, he picked up a large plate of steel and set off to start working on a place near the bridge where he had seen a large rift in the plating. He would have to first remove the entire damaged part of the plating before he could get to repairing it. Fixing a space-ship couldn't be done with the old 'slap some duct-tape on' method. If done wrong, they would most likely end their days in a fireball, hurtling towards the ground. Not really how Magnus wanted to go, but then again, he had already tried dying once these past two months, and he knew from experience that no white light awaited the victim, no booms from the horns of the long halls would welcome him, no seat would be reserved for him. At least not when he had died without a fight. Sometimes he wondered if Jane had actually been the one who had gotten the religious bullshit right, not him. He headed towards the gap in the plating, no larger than he could squeeze a finger inside, but lethal nonetheless. For a short while as he stood there, he simply considered filling the gap with molten steel and allow for it to harden. But that would only work for a short while, and then he would have to redo the whole thing. Not really what he wanted to be doing if shit started falling apart while out of atmosphere. If he had been watching tabloid news at the time, the man would probably have had a good laugh from seeing another Scandinavian carry a dead-drunk Gunnery Chief Williams away from a mildly pissed journalist, as well as wonder who this new guy was, and why the name would have seemed so familiar. Then, he would probably have scoffed at the report of a dig team from Therum, whose ship had somehow crashed onto the southern pole of Noveria.

…

October 2th

Illium

Dry-dock D-47

18.06 (Illium Standard time. Eastern time zone. Nos Astra)

"How's the turret coming?" Magnus called from where he sat on the hull, taking the welder away from the searing hot piece of metal he had been busy fitting into the square-sized hole he had made in the damaged plating. It never ceased to annoy him how even the most standard-quality Alliance shuttles were made from the high-quality Graphene-enforced steel-alloys, while he and Tara had to make do with regular steel and even iron. The latter especially annoyed him when he was trying to remove parts of the hull that had suffered the worst, only to have parts of it fall off due to rust. With each repair he made, it became all the more apparent that Tara must have been cheated when buying this piece of crap. He would never have given more than twenty grand's for this thing, but people did have a nasty habit of cheating Quarians.

"I'm a Quarian, not a damned drone; it's only been one day. Give me some time, will you?" Tara shot back. The work on the turret had apparently proven more difficult than first anticipated.

"I thought your people were some of the best engineers in this rotten galaxy?" He said while cursing as the plate kept sliding from his grasp, making the welding that much harder.

"I'm a tech specialist, not a gun-builder, Keelah, you humans think all Quarians can build a spaceship from scrap, don't you?" She said, becoming a bit annoyed as the engine moving the holding beams refused to move faster than a slow and noise turning.

"Yeah well, you Quarians think all races are racists." He shot back with a grin.

"Well they mostly are!" Tara snorted in retort.

"That's racist, Tara, you know that?" He laughed, satisfied with having trapped her.

"Well… I… bosh'ted, just get back to work!" Tara responded, knowing full well who had won the argument.

"Yes ma'am!" He called back with a wide grin, one that turned into an annoyed frown as the plate slid down for the seventh time. 'Gods help me, I'm going to light this thing on fire if it doesn't stop going out of place real soon'

…

Elsewhere

"Sir?"

"Yes, come in Miranda. I have a… job, for you." Harper said, puffing on his cigarette.

"I'm ready, what is it?" Miranda replied with a thin smile. If there was one thing she was good at, it was being professional about almost everything in her life and being.

"There seem to have been some… confusion in a report from our informant aboard the Normandy. I have received reports that there is more than one commander aboard the Normandy. Now, I don't think my source would lie to me, but in this case it does require a bit of… afterthought, so to speak. If there has indeed been appointed a second commander of the Normandy, I want files, face, DNA-samples, names and everything from his or her birth to now. We can't afford any kind of liabilities while Saren is still on the loose." His words left the Australian woman a bit perplexed;

"You want me to infiltrate the Normandy sir?" Miranda may have been good at her job, but some things were best left to people trained in the art of stealth, not biotic super-humans.

"In a sense. You will be provided with a small chip which I want you to insert into the Normandy's systems, download everything there is about this new unknown, as well as… did you by any chance watch the news last night Miranda?" His question caught the woman off guard again. It was a gift he had, or so he liked to think.

"N-no sir, I was busy." Miranda said, her face not betraying the turmoil raging inside her. The Illusive Man gave Miranda a quick look, confirming what he already suspected.

"Well, I'm sure Mister Taylor did then." He said with a smug smile. The name caused Miranda's eyes to quickly dart around, as if looking for some hidden assailant. Her boss simply inhaled another breath or air combined with the smoke from his two-hundred credit cigarette.

"I… wouldn't know about that sir. Was there anything interesting in them?"

"You could say that. Apparently the crew on the Normandy has recently been bolstered by genetically modified soldiers, calling themselves 'clones'. As you may know, only one other person has succeeded in creating clones of human beings, yet these seem different."

"I'm guessing you want files on them as well?"

"Spot on as always Miranda. Now, you can go about the mission as you see fit, but I would like an update within the month."

"Yes sir." The woman said, leaving the room. Having been left alone, he brought up the part of the interview that had amused him the most, showing a man with Maori-like features plant his right fist in the face of the Arabian Journalist Al-Jilani. Chuckling, he brought the interview into play, smiling as the woman hit the floor.

He had never really liked that woman.

Codex entry on Subject 'Vikings, modern fighters'

Dating back to the late Afghani war, the Vikings started out as an out-branching of the "Jaegers", the elite of the Danish military in the middle of 2014. The Vikings were mainly recruited from the ranks of soldiers meeting standards viewed by some as unrealistic, one requirement being capable of performing gliding into hot-zones, completing regular courses in one third of standard time, no more was allowed. Other than this, Vikings were expected to be able to outlast the world-famous American Navy Seals in both endurance, efficiency and provess. After years of failures, a small group eventually made it through the net, being recognised as the very first fighting force bearing the call-sign "Viking" since the end of the Viking-age, around 1280 A.C

The emblem of Task-force 'Viking' was an axe and a rifle crossed over each other in the shape of an X.

As part of their equipment, the Vikings sported the tradtional knives used by most armed personnel, as well as a hip-mounted hand-axe.

The group consisted of seven members, all whose names have since been kept secret due to safety concerns. Instead of referring to each other's names, they each had callsigns of own choice. The following callsigns have been verified as being in active service until the dissolvement of said group due to post-Shanxi events;

"Hangman" Squad leader of unit Viking-001

"Blue-tooth" Team sniper and support specialist.

"Atter Dag" Breacher and close-quarters expert. Direct translation of callsign is "Another day" For refference, see 'Danish Kings, Valdemar Atterdag'

"Mjolnir" Team Heavy weapons specialist. Recieved the 'Medal of Valor' two times.

"Valkyrie" Team Medic and HMMWV-driver. Notable: only woman on team.

"Bug" team slicer and hacker.

"Odin" Team spotter and UAV-operator

The Vikings were pushed into service as a new unit on October fifth, 2014, when the Taliban moved back into the Afghani capital of Kabul. Having cut off the railroads and planted minefields around the city prior to the attack, the Taliban had effectively isolated the NA-defenders inside the city. As there was no way the ISAf-forces could reach the city by conventinal means, the Vikings were given their baptism of fire by being glide-dropped into the city from five miles away. It is presumed that they were not fire upon because the enemy either thought them to be birds of prey, or simply didn't believed their own eyes.

When the Vikings had landed, quick work was made of the LZ, allowing the arrival of reenforcements seven hours later. Having destroyed the AA-guns in the outskirts of the city, the Vikings moved house to house, killing the Talibans with notably only one civilian casualty. When they linked up with the remaining NA-forces near the center of Kabul, the Vikings utilized their skills born from years of hard training, and carried out continued raids on enemy positions, killing an estimated one-hundred and twenty-six hostiles without losing a single man.

The city was liberated the next day when the rest of the Afghani National Army arrived via helicopters and secured the rest of the city.

Involvement in liberation of Shanxi

#DATA NOT AVAILABLE. CODE 54913#

Dissolvement of the Vikings.

Not much is known as to the reasons for the dissolvent of the Vikings, though it is widely accepted that the group, as per 2157-2158 consisting of no more than two-hundred and six members, had difficulties seeing the purpose of sparing alien lives, and in the years following human integration into the galatic society went more and more out of line, conduction actions that reflected poorly on the overall image of humanity as a reasonable race. Exact actions are to this day not cleared for public eyes. As per 2162, Alliance Diretor Juan Desmodes ordered the dissolvent of taskforce 'Viking'.

Leaked information has revealed that no more than one-hundred and five members of the taskforce actually recognized the order. The rest have since been avoiding Alliance spotligts, but raids on batarian colonies, epscially in times of slave-auctions, are believed to have been carried out by humans sporting the emblem of the Vikings.

Alliance officials denies all ties.

Alright, I am beginning to think these codex-entries are better than wasting space in the actual story, so if new events or people, weapons and such pop up, they will be descriped in these codex-entries.

Anway, i'm getting a little worried here, as Master Chief is taking the lead. Don't get me wrong, he's an awesome character, and there has been lots of ME-Halo fics with him... but maybe that means that if I involve him it will just become like the rest... nah, of course not! I've got some pretty good things in store for just about every option in the poll, so just you watch ;)

Damn, writing late and cold? That causes some type-errors... just so you know that the errors in the last part of the story isn't because of my aweful grammar, it's simply the cold... yes, I know it's early summer and all, but Denmark is still pretty damn cold at times.

Well, I do believe that was all, remember to review (if you feel like it) and tell me if you noticed something that completely butt-f**ked the story (although I think I've got that part covered ;) )

See ya ;D