A/N:

Okay. As you may remember, MC won the contest for the next outsider to appear on Thomas's doorstep... so to speak. Remember that when you encounter tech that doesn't seem to be from Star Wars... Okay, that made no sense as all, but you get the point.

Well, let's kick it off!

Over the Cliff

October 25th

Citadel, Presidium tower

14:27

This is only the second time I've been here, if one doesn't count the ten-sec meeting we had under the stairs a 'visit', and frankly, I like it more this way. The tower is far more… peaceful now than it was when C-Sec was running around here, preparing for the case against Saren.

Now they are running around the Presidium, erecting barricades and and setting up big guns. It gives me a good feeling knowing we won't be totally unprepared for whatever comes through the monument.

I have a bit more time to actually appreciate the environment in here while Jane is leading the talks with Kahoku. The man looks like Hackett's brother for all I can see, with the same grizzled face, hard like it was chiseled in granite. Still, he has a softer touch to him, a more… compassionate way of talking and a looking at us.

Jane has been presenting herself, Liara and me as a security-detachment from the Normandy, while Liara and I are just playing the role of the silent watchers: She with her biotics and me with my Raikou, shotgun and Lancer-V, as well as Ash's personal other birthday-gift to me: A mother-F'in sword!

I now know what she was working on that day where I almost caught her and Wrex toying around with it in the cargo bay, but it still feels so weird. I mean, who in this universe uses a sword? In combat I mean. Still, it's pretty badass when looking at it.

The handle is made from some sort of fusion of rubber and leather, giving me a really good grip, even if my hands are sweaty or I am wearing a thick gauntlet. It is spray-painted a dull green and brown, giving it an almost camouflagish appearance. The blade itself is about a meter in lenght, and ends in a flat cut from the rest of the blade, signaling that it is meant to slash and chop, not to stab with. The blade is made from a metal that looks a bit like steel, but the dull light it reflects leads the mind to consider if it is graphene-tipped, coated with or simply made from it. From what I remember, Graphene was the miracle-material of the twenty-first century, with abilities like extreme strength, sharpness and a candidate for superconductors. If this thing is coated with or made from graphene, it should technically be possible to electrify it... I think.

I have it holstered at my right side, since it's meant to be used by both left and right hand. I have to admit, it's good thinking. With my artificial arm, I should be able to cleave in a way that would make every single sword-swinging hero in fantasy green with envy. I just need to test it out on the next guy who fucks with me.

We're all dressed in our combat attire, meaning the phase-II armor. Liara's shoulder-pad has been replaced with one of same design but of a more acid resistant material. I'm not sure what it's made of, but it has a slightly different gleam to it than the rest of her armor.

Jane herself is armored up from top to toe in an even more advanced suit that the ship received upon docking with the Normandy. In essence, it is a more bulky version of what we are wearing, while also packing an in-built exoskeleton and wrist-mounted knives, ready to shoot out and stab through bone and plating with a flicker of her hand.

I watched as she put it on onboard, with the most devious smile on her face. When asked who sent it, she just replied 'a friend'.

Now, I'm not the paranoid type, but when someone sends a stranger to this version of the universe a high-tech hard-suit with the synthetic muscles of a pumped Krogan… I start to wonder.

Besides the suit, Jane packs a pair of pistols, one on each side, and a shotgun and rifle as well. I can never stop thinking what Chief Jensen back at Homeland Security would have barked and cursed if he saw me walk around with a shotgun resting pretty much on my ass, as one can put it. Or having a loaded assault rifle slung over my back like this.

But hey, he can suck it. I am pretty sure he never faced off against geth or Xenos like I have, so per definition, I'm more experienced than him. Ha, he'd kick my balls for that statement… but hey, I got a medal, he didn't. I smile slightly as I touch the Purple heart hanging from my neck along with my dog tags.

Besides that, my only other gear is my Omni-tool, which I'm starting to, not master, but be able to use on foot with the others. About time too, I've been here for months. The last piece of 'gear' is the printed photo of Ash wearing my uniform in the gym's tool and requisites-room, after we were together. It shows her smiling wide with her hair all messed up and eyes showing exhaustion. It's something of a 'lucky charm' to me. Also, it keeps my mood up when I'd down. I hope. I haven't been down yet since the funeral, and I think Fixer and Scorch are the most emotionally messed up from that.

Scorch was escorted to the hospital the second we got to the Citadel, and is being treated for severe burns, loss of blood, trauma and PTSD. I figure they will give him a new leg, like the new arm I got when my own got… well, blown up.

Still… that was only possible because the Purple Heart funded the surgery… Scorch hasn't been inducted into the Alliance yet, so I don't know if he will get it as well. The medal actually loses some shine when you remember what people have to go through to get it. Lose blood for king and country, so to speak.

Fixer was allowed to see him in, but then had to return to the Normandy as the rest of the crew were going to help out Wrex and… well, and other stuff I don't know about. Let's face it: For someone who's supposed to have borderline divine knowledge of this universe, I know jack-shit about what's going on around me. Hell, I could get lost on the Presidium, and don't get me started on the rest of the Citadel.

I wanted Ash to come, just as she wanted to, but orders are orders. This is the first case where I've really seen how frustrating orders can be. Especially when I can't go against them when the only reason I have is that I want to be near her. So instead we settled for a kiss and a hug at the docks, as well as me demanding of Nicolai to take good care of her. I know he will, but I'm still nervous when I can't protect her. And I doubt that will change until after Virmire, if that even actually happens.

That is another thing bugging me. How come there isn't even a base on that fucki- on that blasted planet? It really doesn't make sense. I mean, sure I can change people's personality by being here, even their species… but make entire bases disappear? That just sounds too far-fetched, even for me.

I'm being brought back to reality by Jane presenting me and Liara to the Rear Admiral, who's looking at us and our armor with the greatest curiosity;

"Admiral, this is Doctor Liara T'soni, our biotic specialist." Jane says, watching as the admiral greets and shakes hands with Liara.

"A pleasure miss T'soni. I'm terribly sorry about your mother…" Kahoku says, giving her a genuine sad smile. How is that even public knowledge already? We've barely gotten back to the council space, and we haven't even been assaulted by a single reporter yet.

"I… thank you Admiral. Yes it… it is difficult to face..." She says, barely lifting her gaze to look at him. The only reason I can see her reaction is due to the small screens on the HUD, showing the upper faces of the other wearers. It's a bit confusing when we're in the same room or standing in front of each other, but when apart by several meters and rooms, it is good to see some friendly eyes.

Jane moves on to me, and I feel a pit tighten in my stomach. If this guy died in Jane's version, then I can change cannon for the better by helping save his life. I snap to a salute when Jane gestures towards me;

"Admiral, this is Corporal Thomas Fisher. He'll be sticking to you twenty-four seven, not even leaving the room when you sleep. He'll also be our team's main sentry and mid-to-close range fighter, in case Cerberus is coming for you." She says, and I finally take my hand down from the salute. I actually don't know how long one is supposed to keep his hand in the air in this situation.

"Corporal Fisher? I've heard about you from your aunt. Anna Fisher right?" He asks with a smile. Wait… Aunt? Well she did say she would just pose as my aunt should anyone ask about the connection, but… it sounds really weird. Still, it makes sense.

Opening my seals, I take my helmet under the left arm as I take his hand in my right. For a short moment, his eyes widen, but only for a fraction of a second.

"Yeah, she has a habit of exaggerating though. I have only killed a million bad-guys, not the trillion she keeps yapping about." I respond with a smile. I pray he has humor, or my comment will be taken literally. Not something I would enjoy having to explain to an admiral.

"Oh, then your reputation does indeed surpass you. Still, I read the reports from Noveria and Feros. You're doing fine for someone your age… and collecting your share of scars, if I may say so." He smiles, probably looking at the few scars still adorning my face, including the one going over my left eye and cheek. I've all but gotten used to the new eye now as well. It's practically as if I never lost the other in the first place. Only difference is that the new one can actually see pretty well in darkness. Emhart didn't mention that when he plugged it in.

Although I suppose it matters little when I'm wearing a helmet with both night-vision and a mounted flashlight. Still, it is a cool thing to have in reserve. Gods, I love cybernetics.

"Thank you sir." I say, nodding slightly as I give him a smile. Jane then takes over again, discussing with the old man how our presence will or won't interfere with his daily life. I've got the best job it seems. I've even got to guard him when he's taking a piss. Well, this will be interesting, if nothing else.

…

October 26th

Acturus

19:22

Anna Fisher, the feared and loved Admiral of the Systems Alliance, was walking down the hallway, seemingly in her own thoughts.

People seeing her would see a woman mumbling to herself, as if in a conversation only she could hear. And seeing as she had no earphones in, that had to be the truth.

Only it wasn't

"So, how did they like it?"

"The new armor? Well it's still in the test-phase, but it's based on the schematics you gave me, so it should be able to stand up to sustained fire from the geth, as well as heavy machineguns and light cannons. We've equipped it with stronger shields, of course, seeing as that was the only way we could improve it."

"Not the techs silly, the team. I hear you shipped a model to the Normandy's XO, Jane. You know, I had some fun spying on her while I was onboard." Kasumi said, walking next to the admiral while staying cloaked.

"Oh her? She liked it, I think. Haven't gotten any response from her yet, so I'm assuming she's testing it out currently. Why?"

"Oh just curious. I'm bringing the tech, so it'd look bad for me if it didn't work out." She said, smirking behind the cloaking.

"True… have anyone discovered you yet?" Anna asked, looking at where she knew the Japanese thief was walking.

"Hey, are you trying to insult me?"

"Not really. Trying would imply that it took effort. You are too touchy for your own good Kasumi. Have to learn to accept a few jabs and punches here and there… figuratively speaking."

"Maybe… I'll work on that." She said as they entered Anna's office overlooking the dry-docks. An office with windows. That was the best one could wish for, in Anna's opinion. Screw the leather seats. Windows was where it's at.

With a tired smile, Anna threw herself into a chair, took of her shoes and placed her feet on the desk in front of her. Locking the door, Kasumi uncloaked and retrieved a pair of soda-cans from the office's small fridge. They didn't have any Sake or wine, and Anna had emptied the entire fridge of beer when Kasumi told her about the code she carried around.

To say it had rustled her jimmies… would have been an understatement.

"So… what have you got for me today Kasumi?" She asked, looking at the thief while opening her can. Although disturbing as fuck, the idea of being able to 'retrieve' high-end tech from other universes just proved too big a temptation for Anna. She had hired Kasumi on the spot, having her tasked with bringing all sorts of odds and ends back to the Alliance. The council didn't know yet, but they didn't have to either, not yet at least.

Besides, Anna was sitting with the opportunity to bring the Alliance, and by extension humanity, in front of the galaxy in terms of power and advancement. They already had infantry-grade armor that outclassed anything the others had, bar the Krogan.

The gunships were still being measured against the Mantis, and the old model actually proved to have one advantage over the new LA/AT model: It could remain stationary for longer time, and required less warm-up time before it was ready for action.

The difference was less than six minutes, but that alone meant a difference worth noting. The issue with the LA/AT was that the engines were hauling a much heavier object, so they needed more power, and by extension more time, to pull it off.

Still, while the Mantis would be preserved in the role of in-atmosphere fights, the LA/AT, or 'flying fists' would replace them on the issue of fire-support, heavy-duty lifting, troop deployment and assaults on stationary targets on ground.

'Flying Fists'... Anna really needed a better name for them.

In short, the Mantis had just been downgraded to a light vehicle, while the Fist was a heavy-class of the same kind. In theory, it worked out brilliantly. In theory.

They had yet to actually use the new gunships in actual combat, so there was some uncertainty remaining. One could only learn so much from projected results and exercises. Still, the pilots were getting better at flying them, and she had already overseen the placement of the first seventy gunships on the Alliance Super-Carriers SSV John Price and SSV Firestorm. They had had to scrap and tear down some walls and equipment between the hangars, but in the end effectiveness hadn't been reduced more than 0.2%, and the ships had been outfitted with the newest of the new in aircrafts.

Sadly, there wasn't enough time for a complete make-over of the fleets. If the time had been there, the armor of every single vessel from fighter and up to Dreadnought would have been replaced or reinforced with plastisteel, the new 'metal of tomorrow', as the techs had dubbed it. In reality, it was just a grown and fused version of a combination between the famous and widely used graphene, and new steel and titanium-alloys. Still, it held up against fire surprisingly well. The amount of fire that would have shredded the Silaris armor used on the Destiny Ascension, would break about ten minutes before the P-steel, as it had been dubbed. Ten minutes didn't seem like much at first, but in a stand-up fight between naval forces, that difference could determine the outcome of the battle.

It therefore pissed her off to no end that only about two-thousand fighters and a couple of cruisers had received the upgraded armor. It could mean the deaths of those without it.

The Japanese thief threw up a small pout, leaning back against the chair;

"Yo dare (Slaver)… Fine, I did get something, but I received a pretty damn close haircut during my mission." Kasumi mumbled while fishing out a small object. It was a disk, not much bigger than those odd pods people used to fuzz over with a digital pet on them. It had been something of a hype when Anna was a kid, but had dissipated when stories aired about people killing themselves when their pets 'died'.

Taking the small disk in her hands, Anna turned it over and around, looking for text or something that would reveal its purpose. It was fairly nondescript really. Aside from a circular pane of glass-like material in the middle, there was nothing unusual to the disk. It could have been a child's toy for all Anna knew.

"What is it?" She asked, keeping it suspended against a lamp. Kasumi shook her head slowly.

"Honestly? I have no clue at all… but it was under heavy guard by guys wearing armor that made them two meters tall… it has to be pretty good for something, right?" She shrugged, drinking from her soda.

"Hmm… it looks like some kind of tech, maybe a USB-drive?" There were a series of small marks on the end of the disk, looking similar to a regular transportable drive.

"Well, try inserting it in a pc then. It doesn't fit in my Omni-tool…" She said, looking on while the admiral tried plugging it into her pc.

"Doesn't fit in a computer either… where exactly did you get this?" She asked, shooting a look at the thief. The woman just shrugged;

"In a room full of those things. We're talking long rows of them. I was on a station in orbit around a planet… oddly enough it looked like Earth, just with a lot of debris around it… like Saturn. It was one of the guards who almost caught me, swung a katana and tore my hood off… almost ruined both my hair and my cloaking device… good thing it was only the hair." She added, reaching up to feel under her new hood, a dark-red one. It looked a bit odd with the black suit, so she had changed that for a dark-brown one instead.

Anna shot her a disbelieving glance;

"Wait… you were spotted?" She asked, not believing what she heard. She could walk next to the woman, and not be able to see her. Somehow the guards had been, and had not taken kindly to the intrusion.

"And damn near shot too. Didn't even shout for me to stop, just fired at me… and now my hair smells of gunpowder…" She said, her face distorting as she smelled a handful of her black hair. Anna sniffed in too, then chuckled;

"What?" Kasumi asked with an annoyed stare.

"It's just… I was about to call security, to see if there was a fire somewhere. I'm sorry girl, I never thought someone would shoot with gunpowder at YOU. Or even shoot with gunpowder at all…" she said, then looked a bit more thoughtful;

"You… didn't get this thing from the same place as the P-steel, did you?"

"Nope… I don't really control where I end up, as much as I'd like. Most times, it all works out, but this time I ended up almost being gorged by a super-sized turian with a plasma-sword… and that was before I got to the station… I need a raise… and a shower." She remarked, looking at the admiral with a tired pair of eyes.

"Tell you what… I want the weapons this armor was designed to withstand. And I mean the ship-grade ones, not gunship-beams or riffles. I'm talking the kinds you put on a warship, like a damn repeating cannon, not a beam. I need something that will punch the baddie's guts out through their asses, not just cut their skin open… get me that, and you get a raise." She replied with a smile. Anna had access to unlimited stocks of unknown tech, and as sure as the Devil himself was afraid of her, she would not waste her chance with it.

"Baka… You are a tough nut boss…" Kasumi replied with a smile of her own. She then cloaked, emptied the can of soda and tossed it in the garbage bin. To Anna, it looked like a ghost drinking the soda, but instead of the horror others would have shown, she just laughed at the scene.

With her own supplier of God-like tech, she was a very happy woman. Screw the fact that she was sixty-four, she felt like forty all over again.

"Now…" she mumbled, looking back at the small disk; "What secrets to you hold… and how are you important enough to warrant the guarding of two meter tall soldiers?" She asked herself as she leaned back in her chair with the disk, watching as the light was reflected in it.

Totally unaware of the sentience starring back at her in return.

…

October 27th

Elysium, Illyria

13:15

Alliance Marines lieutenant Zaeed Massani had it, as they said, made. He was fifty-one, stationed and lived on the outskirts of Illyria, the capital of Elysium, and had a hot date approaching in a month, with an old flame of his. Granted, she was thirteen years older than him, but damn did she look, move and fuck as a woman still in her forties. He often wondered what an officer of her grade saw in him, but maybe it was that she liked dangerous and mysterious men. Without really thinking about it, he moved a hand to touch his scars on the right side of his face.

He had faced off against his former friend and colleague Vido Santiago, almost twenty years ago, and had been hell-bent on revenge ever since. At least, that had been until she came into his life, about five years ago.

He had been offered a spot back in the Alliance, a spot under her command, and a spot in her bed. He had accepted numbers one and three, but he preferred to be the one in charge, not on a leash.

And so far, he had proven to deserve it.

He had taken part in a number of campaigns, mainly against slavers, pirates and smugglers. His biggest mission to date, had been on some volcanic planet, whose name he had forgotten. Blowing a nuclear plant to hell and executing two-hundred slavers afterwards… that had been a good week. Even though much of it had been spent crouched or prone in muck, lying in ambush and grapping unsuspecting Batarians and Vorcha, Krogan and even the occasional Varren, when he and his men were hungry.

All the captives were given the same treatment. A knife though the throat… or under the crest-plate, if that wasn't enough.

"Massani, sir." A young voice barked out, alerting the lieutenant to the presence of his adjutant, a corporal by the name of Sam Tennyson. Good kid, good sense of right and wrong, but possessed a bit too romantic a view of war and the navy.

He was short-cut, like all the rest, with brown eyes and a tanned complexion. Not very tall, but not low either. All in all, he was your average soldier or marine, give or take a few kills and years in service.

Zaeed dragged his feet from the table, a habit he had picked up from his time in the Blue Suns, and stood to salute the young man, no more than twenty-seven. In Zaeed's book, that made him a greeny, a youngster, someone untested by fire. He thought that way of everyone until they proved him wrong.

God did he love it when they proved him wrong.

"Corporal Tennyson. As you were." He said, his old and scarred voice matching his face. It was something that had made him an instant magnet to the younger of the division . He looked like the ideal image of a hardened veteran, and everyone hoped to either pick up some hints, or simply hear him retell one of his stories.

Age and rank didn't matter, they all admired him. He was even asked for advice by the higher-ups from time to time, but that was when shit really hit the fan. Something which, thankfully, hadn't happened in almost three years.

There had been an incident at the docks back then, where a bunch of Batarians, Blue Suns even, had threatened to activate a bomb placed on the docks if they weren't given an insane amount of credits. Back then Zaeed had only been a sergeant, but he had snuck in, killed the entire group by burning them alive with an industrial flamethrower, before disarming the bomb himself.

That had been his last day as a sergeant.

"Sir, scans are reporting some unusual activity at the relay. Unscheduled vessels are pouring through. They haven't hailed the planet yet, and Command wants you in the HQ five minutes ago." The man said, clearly nervous about something.

"Fine, let's go see if the Migrant Fleet has gotten itself lost again… wouldn't surprise me one bit…" He mumbled as he picked up his sidearm from the desk, put on his regular hard-suit, and stomped both feet into their respective boot. He then drew a cigar, was about to light it but then thought better of it and tucked it into his chest-pocket. There were a few advantages of being an officer. A hard-suit with chest-pockets was one of them. Another was being allowed to smoke indoors.

The vehicle in question was one of Zaeed's favorites in the military. The P2171-ATAC, or Patac for short, was a standard-issue military-grade jeep. It had a top speed of 170kph, a mounted heavy machinegun, and was strong enough to carry a half ton of cargo, or ten extra personnel, in theory. Massani had yet to be able to fit ten men on it, and didn't actually care to try either.

HQ, or just the military installation's tactical headquarters, was a good ten minutes' drive away from his office, and as he sat in the Jeep, looking at the city's occasional sky-scraper, he smiled, observing how the sun's rays were sent back from their glass-walls, glittering like diamonds.

It was Goddamn beautiful.

Ten minutes later, Zaeed entered the installation's HQ, and went straight for the war-room, as they had dubbed it. The reason? It looked like an exact copy of the old war-room under the Pentagon on Earth, as it was before it was leveled in the nuclear terror-attack in 2107.

"Alright ladies, what've got?" He barked out, making even those of higher rank turn to watch. Zaeed carried the authority of a colonel, but had refused the promotions and the things that followed them. When asked why, he had simply answered that higher rank would mean more time behind a desk, and less behind a big-ass gun.

As he approached the large holographic image of the system in the middle of the room, he noticed hundreds of contacts headed straight for Elysium. The others around the table looked on as he walked around the image, rubbing his bare chin with his right hand while keeping the other behind his back.

"Sir, about a hundred contacts are headed for us. We can't get a ping on them, and they are too far away to use the LADAR yet." One of the techs around the table answered.

"Yeah I can see that. I mean what do we know that I can't see yet? Who are they, what sort of weapons and ships, how long till they reach us? That sort of things." He growled while noting which people shrank under his presence. There wasn't a better way to determine who was fit at their jobs, than giving them a little stress-course.

"Contacts are still outside our effective scans, but so far none are below frigate-class." One of the ensigns at the screens answered, drawing a thin smile from the scarred veteran. It spoke well for the lowers when they would interrupt incompetent higher-ups.

"What's your name lass?" He asked the young woman at the screens.

"Traynor, sir. Comms and scans specialist of second class." The woman replied. Zaeed couldn't place her ethnicity, but her accent said American, South-states to be exact.

"First name I mean?" He asked, taking his time. Most others would be, and probably were, furious at his wasting of time when unknown contacts approached the colony.

"Amber, Sir."

"Alright Amber, see if you can't get some communication working this time… because I of course assume that you incompetent sods have tried contacting them already, right?" He asked the assembled crowd.

None spoke.

"Jesus Christ! What is this? Pre-school?" He shouted at the other before getting back to Traynor. She had used the time he spent shouting to establish a link to the incoming ships, using the comm-buoy near the relay.

"Alright Amber, let me have a look at our guests." He said, gesturing for her to activate the comms and screens. It took the system a few seconds to power up. To Zaeed, that proved his suspicion.

The fuckers hadn't even tried contacting the incomings.

"This is Lieutenant Zaeed Massani of the 473th, Elysium. Identify yourselves; your ships don't match to our systems." He demanded off the screens while the images changed from fussy, to the image of a person he had silently prayed would show up on his door-step ever since the new tech had been launched from the assembly lines. Just so that he could show off his new toys.

"This is Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema of the Quarian Migrant Fleet. We're here with peaceful goals and… Zaeed? Damn the Ancestors, it really is you!" The Quarian admiral laughed, having remembered and recognized Zaeed after his introduction.

"Gerrel, you mad war hound! Still the same pissed-off Turian scarecrow I hear." Zaeed replied with a smile. Han'Gerrel and he had met on a joint Alliance/Migrant Fleet mission, when he had been attached to the Far-seekers, the Quarian version of the N7. Gerrel had since spent his time harassing outlaws and the like on the borders of Turian space.

To the great annoyance of the Turians.

Apparently, they didn't like it when others pursued slavers into their space, and had often defended the slavers under the excuse that they were theirs to 'arrest'. In reality, the same thing happened though. If the Quarians were deterred, the Turians would blow up the slavers themselves. It was just that Han enjoyed chasing down Batarians and Blood Pack ships too much to just let them go when they crossed the borders.

"You know it. But we can discuss the rest when we touch down." The Admiral replied, grinning under his mask. Zaed scratched his chin at this;

"Right… why are you here though? I was expecting a detachment from the Alliance to show up with our new def-tech… not the Migrant Fleet on my door-step." It wasn't an unfriendly tone, but Zaeed was curious. Elysium rarely got visited by the Fleet, even though it was widely known that human colonies were the friendliest to Quarians.

"You've been out of the loop for too long then, you old bosh'ted. Project Star killer is a joint effort between the Fleet and the Alliance. We're here to deliver the merchandise… or aren't you interested at all?" Damn that Gerrel, he had always known just which of Zaeed's buttons to push for effect.

"A joint effort? Well shit, every day is a school day!" He smiled, then looked to the rest of the officers and general crowd in the room; "Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? Give'em the goddamn clearance before the ODP's shoot'em to shreds!" He barked, then returned to the screen.

"We're good to land?"

"Sure, come on down. I still have that Levo/Dextro Whiskey. The 'Good' one, you know?" He asked the Quarian with a smirk on his scarred face.

"Heh, yeah I read you. Gerrel out." Zaeed pushed himself back from the consoles and gave Traynor a nod;

"What did you say your rank was Amber?" He asked with a smile.

"C/S specialist second class, Sir. Why?"

"Scratch that, you're first class now. Collect your new paycheck at Dep. when you get the day of." He mumbled with a rough smile.

Making the smile disappear and turn into a frown, he turned back to the people behind him.

"Now, who do I have kick in the balls to actually get officers as good as a fucking C/S specialist? I swear, it's things like this that make me consider taking that fucking promotion. This place needs better officers!" He barked, and even those above him, such as Captain Reynolds and Norton, recoiled slightly at his words.

Norton… that old-school captain was one of the few standing up to Zaeed, and the old former mercenary both hated and respected the man for it.

Respected him for it, because even colonels were swayed by Massani's words and orders. Norton was one of the few who looked Zaeed in the face and reminded him of ranks and the chain of command.

And hated him for it. Because Robert Norton, captain of the SSV Eudora, was one hell of a, as Gerrel often put it, Stinking suit-wetter. Whenever it came to real life decisions and actions, the man would be gripped by nervousness and often be on the verge of suicidal and stupid orders. Such as letting his fighters launch, then he would prepare to retreat to beyond the range of enemy fighters and by extension, his own as well.

A couple of hours later, the flotilla of a few hundred ships, all of them Migrant Fleet labeled, in order to prevent the systems in orbit from turning them into modern art, landed in the space-port outside the city. Zaeed stood with his lit cigar in mouth, enjoying the taste of the Havana as he watched the ships touch down on the pads.

Most of them were freighters, converted from frigates or old turian models. About one fourth were escort-ships, frigates and heavy cruisers. All of them were in what Quarians called "Pristine condition". Which was what most others called "ready for a serious overhaul".

Still, he supposed they did their best to fit the role of whatever part of the project they had. Zaeed liked the bottle-heads, as he called them in jest, but he had difficulty seeing how they could help in a project. They barely had the resources to keep their ships floating and avoid them falling apart when passing through the relays.

He watched as the lead ship, a frigate twice the size of the others, yet still with the tell-tale shape of the regular Quarian ship, the ring and extended column, docked with the colony's new tether-station. It was just a few clicks outside the city's borders, in case the whole thing should drop, and avoid hitting anyone beneath it.

For obvious reasons, the Admiral's ship couldn't dock like the rest. In short, it was due to the mass of his ship. If he had tried, he would most likely had burned up in atmo, or blown to hell when his engines overloaded. Now, Zaeed watched the screens in front of him, showing the ramps open up on the different ships, as well as the elevator in the long cable headed down from orbit to the ground.

"Crazy Japs…" He muttered through his cigar. A few decades back, the Japanese science-division had proposed and demonstrated the first orbital tether-station on Mars. It had been a flop, but the year after, an American group had demonstrated a working prototype, and received all sorts of rewards and honors.

It didn't make matters less exciting when it was discovered that they had sabotaged the Japanese's demonstration, and stolen the tech for themselves. The Japs were given the credit, and the American group was fined and humiliated.

"Han-Fucking-Gerrel. How dare you show yourself here on my planet after what you did to me?" Zaeed growled as the Quarian admiral stepped out from the elevator, flanked by a couple of Far Seekers. Both of them armed to the teeth. They showed anxiousness when the human officer approached their superior with a hostile face.

However, the admiral waved them down;

"Why, if it isn't Zaeed-five-shots-short-Massani. Still the same old grumpy bosh'ted I see." He replied, holding a three-digited hand out to the man. Zaeed's face turned from pissed to a warm smile, and he shook the hand;

"Han, you old bugger. How the hell have you been?" He said, clasping the admiral's shoulders in an almost brotherly embrace. The onlookers, both the human and Quarian marines, were not sure what to make of the scene in front of them.

"You know. Blown up some geth here, killed some slavers there, the usual." Gerrel answered, electing a harsh laugh from the scarred human.

"I bet. Now, why don't you let your people unload… whatever the hell they are unloading, and the two of us can hit the bar. I've had the bartender prepare the bottle for us." Zaeed said, giving the admiral an 'I dare you' look.

"You're shitting me? You're actually up for a rematch? Heh, should have brought Rael, he would have knocked you on your ass for trying to get me drunk… again."

"Yeah well, Rael ain't here. Which means you can let loose for once. Now, I'll have you know I have been practicing since the last time." Zaed snared at the admiral as they walked to the Patac waiting for them.

"What, still trying to top me?" Gerrel asked with amusement in his voice as they entered the jeep. Zaeed just gave him a scowl;

"Fucking glass-head. You and your goddamn organs. It's fucking cheating that you can take twice the amount of alcohol that a human can." He growled, steering the car out on the highway. One of the advantages of having a ground-bound vehicle, was that with the air-cars being cheaper, you practically had the road to yourself. The occasional Grizzly battle tank shared the road with them, but otherwise they were alone.

"Say what you want Massani. You will still end up being the one to pay the tab." Gerrel laughed and punched the man's shoulder as they headed for the city's military installation.

To Han'Gerrel, this was just his kind of R&R. He didn't have to waste time on a beach on some overcrowded tourist getaway, and he didn't have to be stuck in traffic, or listening to Shala going on about how irresponsible he was when he chased slavers to hell and back. Also he enjoyed cutting loose and drinking himself stupid with his longtime friend Zaeed Massani.

"So, how are things on the Fleet? What exactly is this Quarian part of the project you mentioned? Seems to me you guys hardly have the hardware to keep your shit together, let alone lend humanity a helping hand." Gerrel scoffed at his remark, but didn't take offence at it. It had been hammered down since the second he met Massani, that even though the human often used slurs such as 'Jar-head', 'Bottle-head' and 'stuffy', it was meant in good spirit. Also he cursed worse than Rael when a geth had shot him in the ass.

"We get by. We're getting a ton of resources from the project, and we're supplying your techs with our specialist in shipbuilding and engineering. Not saying that you humans don't know your stuff, but we survive because we're among the best. Rael is all over some new project that'll help us retake the Homeworld at some point, but honestly… the way he refuses to speak about it creeps me out a bit… like he's hiding something from me, from the fleet…"

"No shit?" Zaeed asked with a cocked eyebrow, keeping his artificial eye on the road. It crept some people out when he did it, parted his eyes like that. But he had never given a damn.

"No shit."

"Doesn't he have a daughter, ehm… Tali, was it?" Zaeed asked, trying to change the subject to more happy areas.

"He does. She's twenty-three human years now, and is spending her pilgrimage serving on a Systems Alliance ship. The SSV Normandy."

"Right, that was the one… wait, isn't that one commanded by another Quarian?" Zaeed asked as they passed an Apocalypse battle tank. The huge tank was the ground-bound off-spring of the Grizzly, different from the Mako in more ways than weight.

The Apocalypse was, true to its name, twice the size of a Grizzly tank and spelled doom for anyone challenging it. Instead of wheels, it sported treads, like the ones used by the early tanks in the twentieth and twenty-first centuries. It resulted in lower top-speed, but it could traverse steeper sloped than the Grizzly, and take more of a beating than the Mako. Also, instead of the regular single cannon and coaxial machinegun, it sported dual-barrels, each firing 120mm shells of explosive rounds. If anything got in the way, be it a Grizzly or a bunker, the tank would simply punch through it without much effort.

The crew, busy repairing and maintaining the tank, sent a quick glance after the Jeep as it roared past them. They could only catch a blur of the Lieutenant's black and yellow hardsuit, and what looked like someone dressed in pink, of all colors.

"John'Shepard vas Normandy nar Rayya. He's the pride of the Rayya, and Rael never shuts up about those two being out there, saving the galaxy. Hell, I think he expects them to come back as bonded." Gerrel explained to the human while they drove though a check-point.

"Bon- you mean like married?" Zaeed exclaimed, almost crashing the car into the fence along the road.

"I know, I know. But Rael seems sure those two are meant for each other and… well… I incline to agree. They were close before the kidnapping." Gerrel explained, causing Zaeed to almost throw the car off the road.

"KIDNAPPING?! Who the fuck dared kidnap Tali? Point me to 'em, I swear they'll suffer!" He sneered. What he remembered of Tali was a vid of a kid toying around in a hamster ball, examining and discovering the world around her. All the while her mother was cooing at the ball and Rael had been recording the whole thing. If anyone dared harm that precious girl, he would decorate his office with their intestines.

"Not Tali, although she nearly was captured as well… It was John'Shepard who was grabbed. We found out later that it was Cerberus who did it."

"Goddammit…" Zaeed muttered, not looking at his friend while he listened.

"He turned up on Mindoir the very day it was raided by Batarian slavers, and then enlisted in the Alliance Marines to help defend the colony. From there he, as far as I have been informed, joined them on a mission to Akuze." Han'Gerrel continued, looking for a reaction from the scarred man next to him.

"Wait a second… Akuze? Wasn't that where-"

"Where fifty Alliance Marines were killed by Tresher Maws? Yes. Shepard was the only survivor. He never returned to the Fleet. I think he considers his pilgrimage started, ever since the incident with Cerberus." Han sighed, looking at the horizon turning a shade of red as the sun set on it. You didn't get these sights on the Fleet, and he knew those who had volunteered to freight the wares from Acturus, had mainly done so for this very sight.

"Hell, that's one way to start your travel to the galaxy. 'Hey dad, how did your pilgrimage start?' I can imagine his kid asking one day. 'Ah yes son. You see, I was brutally kidnapped by Cerberus and experimented on. Then, I escaped and butchered them all.' Now that, that would be one hell of a story for the grand-kids." Zaeed chuckled, leaning back with one hand on the wheel.

"About that. Zaeed, you're older these days… well, in Quarian years you are. Haven't you thought of finding someone to bond with?" Gerrel asked with a slight jab in the side.

"Careful, I'm armed." The man grunted back, then smiled wryly; "Well… there is this one flame in my life… well, flamethrower is more like it actually." He admitted, not moving his hands from the Carnifex in his belt. If Gerrel started making fun of him, he would put a slug in his balls.

"Oh? Details, come on. What does she looks like? Her hair-color? What's her name? Details here. Admiral's orders." Gerrel teased. He could never behave this way around his colleagues, but with Zaeed, he could really just let loose.

"Watch it… she is about ten… no, thirteen years older than me. Has hair the color of roses with streaks of silver. Her figure… does she ever look like a forty year old. She behaves like a goddamn teen at times, and has the… energy, of one as well. If you catch my drift?" He said, sending the admiral a smug look.

"Can't wait to meet her. What's her name?" Gerrel almost jumped in his seat at the prospect of meeting Zaeed's soul-mate. Whoever could get the old monster to settle down, had to be an imposing figure, or at the very least, a devil in the sheets.

"Anna Fisher" He said, and the Quarian could easily spot the blood rushing to his comrade's cheeks.

…

SSV Normandy, Sparta system, Artemis Tau

Having dropped off the Mako on the surface of Edolus, the Normandy quickly rose back up into atmosphere. Inside the cramped vehicle, John'Shepard was leading the mission of discovering the fate of the team of marines sent as a response to a distress beacon on the planet's surface, only two clicks north from the drop point.

Edolus, in all its glory, was a terrestrial world that made Tuchanka look like a pleasant place to stay. The atmosphere was mainly nitrogen, and the ground was dry enough to fly like dust when the wheels of the light tank rolled over it. There was neither plant nor animal-life to be seen, and the entire place echoed the sound of the rolling tank. Aside from that, the place was deader than dead.

"For God's sake Shepard, there isn't even anything to maneuver around!" Kaidan shouted from the passenger's seat of the vehicle. In the tank were Kaidan, Tequila, Garrus and Fixer. The latter still had something of a bad mood, and had not talked much since the ceremony and the hospitalization of Scorch. Despite the team's efforts to cheer him up.

The reason for Kaidan's pleading was the fact that their driver was tossing the vehicle left and right, seemingly unable to handle the sensitive controls. If Kaidan had been John's superior, he would have ordered him from the front, and taken over himself.

As it was now, he could only pray they wouldn't end up with the roof of the tank on the ground… again.

"Sorry, this thing is a bit sensitive. I just need to get a feeling for it." The commander called back. Behind his mask, John'Shepard was grinning like a child who had just gotten away with stealing a cookie. Driving the Mako, and Kaidan mad, was about the only thing he got to do for fun.

"Just keep it steady and steer around the hiiiiiiiiils!" Garrus said as John suddenly decided that a 70% rise wasn't too much for the Mako, and drove right at it, causing everyone inside to fall to the back, and Tequila to utter a string of curses he was glad the translator didn't pick up. Humans sure had a lot of swear-words.

And, as sudden as the rise had started, it ended. Though, before the crew could get to their seats again, John hit the throttle, and sent the tank flying over the edge of the small mountain they were seated on, plunging towards the surface, more than three-hundred meters below.

"WE'RE GONNA DIE! WE'RE GONNA DIE! WE'RE GONNA DIE! HOLY FUCK WE'RE GONNA DIE!" Fixer screamed from his seat. He was the one seated furthest behind in the tank, and as such he was being crushed by the others as they tumbled backwards in the narrow room.

John didn't hear any of this. He was screaming his lunges out with joy and adrenaline as the vehicle was less than fifty meters above ground. Stepping a foot on the pedal for the thrusters, Shepard threw his arms in the air, touching the roof while the thrusters slowed down the descent.

As the vehicle slammed into the ground, curses and swears from more than five different languages, including Russian, Hispanic and Turian, filled the tank. Those John did understand, concerted around his heritage, and how many Elcor he had humped in his time. One he didn't understand sounded somewhere along the lines of: 'Follando piloto de mierda!' It was the Corporal who screamed it out while having to be restrained by Garrus to prevent her from tearing off the commander's mask.

He had no idea what it meant, and for the moment he didn't give it much thought as he suddenly spotted a few dots on the ground, about five hundred meters away. Driving closer, he first recognized the shape of a beacon, the sort that was launched from a ship.

The next thing he saw, made his innards turn.

Now only a hundred meters in front of him, he could clearly see the bodies of at least seven humanoid individuals, strewn over the ground around the wreckage of a badly damaged Grizzly.

"Okay people, we're here. Disembark and scan the surrounding area. Be on your guards, I don't feel like attending a new funeral this soon." He ordered as he stopped the tank about ten meters out from the first body.

Tequila was the first one out, kissing the ground through her helmet as she fell on her knees. She was soon joined by Garrus, but instead of kissing the ground, he inhaled, held his breath and removed his helmet to throw up.

As soon as he had unleashed a stream of bile, the Turian smashed his helmet back on, securing the clamps before a small portion of puke followed the first one, smearing the inside of his helmet. Kaidan had to turn his audio-receptors down in the team-comm as the turian unleashed a torrent of oaths and curses.

For a Turian, Garrus was highly unprofessional at the moment.

"Now, let's have a look at what we're dealing with here…" the commander said, walking towards the first body in a brisk pace. Apparently, the only person not to hear John's advice… was John himself.

As the squad got themselves together and marched after the Quarian commander, none of them felt the slight shift in the sand as movement underneath them took place.

"Commander, looks like burn marks, severe ones at that and chemical in nature… also, removed limps. There is no sign of bullet holes in neither the tank nor the men… I'd say whatever did this got up close and personal… and why is there a beacon here? There's no ship, no shuttle crashed and waiting for help… this doesn't feel right…" Kaidan remarked, looking at the half-dissolved body of a female marine, her body gone beneath her waist.

She had been torn in half, then burned and dissolved by some unknown opponent. Whatever had done it, had left a look of pure horror in her eyes as she stared into the sky, dry tears running from her eyes.

"By the Force… I thought I'd seen it all… but… this?" Fixer weakly stated as he knelt down next to Kaidan's half woman.

The sight was so disgusting, none of the team realized their commander was curled up on the ground in front of one of the marines, this one sporting a plate-sized hole through his chest, as well as missing the right part of his entire body.

For John'Shepard, this was relieving a nightmare from his past, one he had spent hours in therapy with Chakwas in order to get rid of. He could see the haunted faces of his comrades again, floating in the air before him, following him wherever his eyes went.

He could see before him, as clear as was it actually happening, the scene that had played out that fateful day, four years ago. He could see in the faces of the marines, the suffering and the fear they had been subjugated to before they died.

He could hear the slithering roars of the insectoid creatures as they burst from the sands of Akuze, snapping a shuttle from the air while the marines were screaming for God to help them. But no help came.

"N-no… no… have to… no… had to flee… fight… fight futile… no… flee…." He ranted, and the others finally took notice, approaching him with slow steps.

"Commander?" One of them asked. He couldn't hear who it was.

"I… told them… not my fault… not my fault… had to flee… couldn't kill… had to flee…"

"Shepard, what's wrong with you?" Garrus asked. The flanged voice made it easier to distinguish him from the others.

"Had to flee… I couldn't do… had to flee… was dragged down… Toombs… killed… had to flee…James... so many…" He ranted on, to the greater and greater discomfort of the team. This was a first for them all, seeing their commander like this.

"Shepard, get it together!" Tequila snapped at him, picking him up and delivering a smack to his helmet.

"I…I… fled… they died… killed them… I killed them… I see them… I…I… they are coming, they are hungry… run." He muttered the last words, just as a wake of sand trembled around the site, causing the damaged tank to topple over, bending its gun to an unfunctional angle.

"What… was… that?" Fixer muttered as he followed the wave of dirt and sand moving towards them. The eyes of the rest of the team followed as well, locking on to the moving earth.

"I don't know, but I don't want to be in its path. MOVE!" Tequila shouted, grabbing the Commander and sprinting to the side. And not a moment too late.

Where the squad had been just moments before, a pillar of dirt and dust erupted, leading the thoughts to a geyser. Then came the shrill shrieks. The terrible high-pitched roars that followed the massive creature that erupted from the ground.

"THRESHER!" Kaidan shouted, turning to run for the Mako the second he recognized the creature. The entire group, including the corporal dragging the stunned commander, were hauling ass back to the tank. No one stopped to look back as they each used every single ounce of energy they had to reach the safety of the vehicle, with Kaidan already climbing inside.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck¸ fuck, fuck, fuck, FUUUUCK!" Fixer cursed with each leap. He was, despite being the most heavily armored, the fastest runner in the group. No one stopped to consider where he had learned the word, given that Sev had once told them it didn't exist in their language.

It didn't really matter as much as escaping the towering insect, currently in the process of diving back in the ground.

"Alenko! Get on the turret!" Garrus shouted. No one stopped to point out the fact that Garrus couldn't order around Alenko. Given the situation, the human biotic was already in the process of manning it as Fixer climbed in and took the wheel.

As the last of the team climbed in and shut the hatch closed, the tank was suddenly lifted into the air by massive head of the predator, intend on crushing them between its jaws.

"Fixer! Get us the fuck out of here!" Tequila screamed while hanging on to her seat, currently fastened to what had become the ceiling as the vehicle was spun through the air.

"Shut the fuck up! I'm trying!" The clone screamed back, almost breaking the controls as he pulled and pushed handles and buttons in an attempt to free the tank from the jaws of the huge creature. Finally, he slammed down on the thrusters, causing the Mako to spew jets of fire into the mouth of the Thresher Maw.

The screams of feral agony were accompanied with a new feeling of weightlessness as the creature spat the vehicle out and buried itself back into the ground for a new attack.

The second the Mako was on the ground, Fixer gunned the controls, sending the Mako forward across the dunes with more than 150kph. More than enough to escape the predator, and a terrible waste of fuel. No one argued however, and soon they were parked at the top of one of the mountains nearby, not wanting to remain on the ground for a second longer than it took to get off it.

As the panic and surge of adrenaline slowly fell to a normal level, the occupants of the car slowly turned their eyes to their Quarian commander.

John was currently sobbing like a small kid, ranting on about him failing his comrades and friends, how they had all been killed because of him, how he had abandoned them when he made a run for the solid ground of the colony.

"Santé Maria! Shepard, what the hell was that back there? What was that creature and why did you just freeze up like that? I mean fuck, come on! You've never frozen like that before. Not even when we went to find Scorch and you faced a fucking giant bug!" Tequila snapped, causing John to recoil in fear.

Garrus placed a hand on her shoulder, causing her to calm down. He then went to pick up the commander, gently placing him in a seat and strapping him in so that he wouldn't fall when they started the Mako. The turian then turned back to Tequila, the corporal looking ready to tear something apart with her bare hands. Fear was still clear in her eyes.

"I think I'd better answer that one Aquila…" Garrus said, sitting down next to her as Fixer called the Normandy for pickup.

"Sorry about… I just… I've never seen… what was that thing?" She muttered, looking at the Turian with some newfound fondness. He didn't look pissed or startled at all, even after her outburst. Maybe Garrus wasn't such a bad guy after all.

"It's okay, everyone reacts the same way to those things…" He said, giving her the turian version of a weak smile; "What we just saw, what just almost ate us, was a thresher maw. They are a species of highly hostile and lethal predators that ambush their prey from underground, then pull the unlucky souls under or dissolve them with acid… like the marines we found down there… they breed by spores, and in that way they can spread on over hundreds of worlds. They can survive just about… well, anything nature throws at them really, and their jaws can crush a tank… as for what happened to Shepard.." He muttered, looking at the commander, slowly rocking in place in his seat; "…I have no idea… maybe he's seen Thresher Maws before, though I've never heard of them attacking Quarians…" He admitted, giving her a sad look.

It was Kaidan who filled in there; "I think I know… Some years ago, a detachment of fifty marines were killed on Akuze, slaughtered by thresher maws. From what I have heard, the single survivor… was a Quarian." He stated, looking at the commander who hadn't stopped rocking in place.

"You mean… the incident on Akuze... Shepard was the surviving Quarian?" Garrus asked, eyes wide in disbelief.

"It's just a guess… but yeah." Kaidan shrugged, sagging down in his seat. Meanwhile, Fixer had turned around in his seat, listening in to most of the conversation.

"The Normandy is en route. ETA two minutes. If the pilot makes a joke about this, can I kill him?" He asked in all seriousness, causing Tequila to flash a weak smile;

"No… because I am." She stated, losing her smile again as she looked at her commander again. Girl, what kind of shit have you gotten yourself into now? She thought weakly as the hum of ship-engines sounded in the distance.

Well... That wasn't the best way to end a mission... PTSD and survivors's guilt can be a real son-of-a-bitch.

I will say this in advance: By the time of ME2, which is 2184, we will have a humanity that can be described as fairly OP. Bear with me, but it's time we picked up the Matle, so to speak.

There isn't really much else to say, other than asking you guys and girls to leave me a review for what you thought of this chapter.

Also, I have hidden two referrences to Captains in badass games in this chapter... okay, not hidden, but you would have to know the game to find them.

Also, what could Anna have gotten her fingers on this time around? Well, except for Zaeed XD

Till next time