Hello again all!

It's me again with another update. I know what you're thinking, "Already! but it's so soon?" yah... don't be impressed, i had most of this written already by the time i posted chapter 5. hopefully i'll get the next chapter up pretty quick but don't think i'll be here tomorrow with another chapter up and ready to go.

Since i went a few months without updating, i thought i should post it as sort of an apology. anyway, now that that's out of the Way, on with the Chapter!

Thanks as always.

I do not own ME

"Our Legacy"

Part Two: A Traitor In Our Midst.

Chapter 6: Spartan On Deck.

Date: January 26, 2681

Time: 0622 hrs.

Location: Jump Station 7, Rokel System, Sector 34

April 2, 2672

I've decided,

I don't know why I've waited so long to write it but I have consigned to take up the major's offer, it was simply too good for me to pass up. I'm surprised I actually had to think about it. It's been about three weeks since then.

The deal was simple. If I agree I will be reconstructed free of charge. After two weeks of body reconstruction I'll be flown to a secret facility where I will be submitted to a great number of operations and manipulations. After the operations are completed the information gathered will help all the people of the alliance, possibly create new medical and or genetic augmentation technology. It will most likely kill me. If it doesn't, I get a new job and a new life. One that is free from my old life, old friends, old memories, and that blasted survivors curse my dad told me stories about when I was a kid. I still don't believe in curses, but after living through what I've lived through, I'm starting to wonder, seriously wonder, about the possibility.

I arrive at the facility tomorrow, they start operations the day after that. Two weeks from then I'll either be dead, a vegetable, or I'll wake up a super soldier of a whole new breed. Let's hope for the later shall we…

I'll write again when I wake up.

John's blue eyes traced over the entry once more noting the elegant handwritten words in faded black ink on the page. It had been almost ten years ago when he wrote that entry. He sighed deeply as he thought of the things that had led up to that moment in his life. That was a full month and a half after Zion. And he could not recall a moment in his life that he had been as lost in.

That was a hard month.

He always got a bit nostalgic when he opened his journal. He had kept one all his life, at least as long as he could remember. And he was about to keep it again. He fingered the page lightly, almost reverently as he turned the pages to the first open spot. He found it just under the entry he put in three days ago after his meeting with the Co of Jump 7. It was only two lines long. It read simply,

January 23, 2681

More Waiting.

I'm starting to get a bad feeling about this.

Those two short lines said everything he felt about his mission. The only thing he knew for sure about it was that he would be joining the crew of the Experimental SR7 Normandy and that despite whatever the news reports were saying this was definitely not a test run of a new ship.

He had been lifted from Neylon 5 about eight days ago by Alliance transport and since he had been dropped off here three days ago he hadn't done a lot. As it turns out his gut was right about the Normandy being important. As soon as he arrived the Commanding officer of The Station, a Sangheilli Admiral called him to his office to give him his next orders. He would await the arrival of the SR7, once it arrives he would then join the crew and assist in whatever ways that were required by Captain Anderson.

He had to stifle a laugh when he heard the Admiral give the orders. He could honestly say that he had been expecting it. After his searching on the ride to the station had been spent investigating everything he could about the ship and its crew. He actually found it interesting that he had guessed it. But then, it wasn't that hard to figure out. An experimental ship lead by a captain that is way to over qualified to be flying it, and the one and only Spartan IX would be on the same station at the same time? Two and two really does equal four, who knew?

John reached for his mug and took a long drink of coffee. He had been looking over his gear since he had arrived on station, calibrating, cleaning, and checking over his weapons, ammunition, and armor. It was all fine of course he kept all of his things in pristine condition, but that left him with little to do, and he was anxious. So he finally resorted to writing, or rather, reading his journal. His mom, Alex had given it to him shortly after she and James adopted him, saying that if he couldn't talk to them, then maybe he could write it down. At that time he didn't have a lot to say, but he wrote a lot. He filled one whole journal that first year. He still had it in his pack. It was one of very few things he had kept from his past when he had become a Spartan. All of those sat on the desk where his journal was laying. There were four items; his journals, there were four of those now, his sisters locket with a small holographic projector in it but it was broken, he never could bring himself to fix it, a small framed family picture, and his dad's old combat knife which he wore everywhere he went.

He smiled lightly at some of the memories that came to his mind while he looked at the memoirs and frowned at others. After a few more sips of coffee and a few more smiles he turned his eyes back to the open page before him and wrote.

January 26, 2681

I'll be leaving in an hour to start my next mission. I still don't know what I'm to do, but whatever it is, it will defiantly be interesting. I'll be serving with Captain David Anderson on an experimental warship. Turns out that our ships now require a war hero to give it the okay to enter our fleets.

Well, not really, but that's what him leading the mission makes it look like… it really makes me wonder who all fell for that plot? Despite what the big wigs may think, people really aren't that stupid, well, some of them are, but most aren't. I mean, how much of a billboard can you post up to plaster in front of everyone's eyes that this is a cover for some top secret operation? First you have the captain, then there's the crew of near super humans, and then there's that mysterious pit stop at the Tural Nebula. I know what's in there, but I can't talk about that here, but suffice it to say, that if they stopped, and I know they did, they must have taken on a very 'unique' passenger or a 'very special' package. And if that's not enough, get this. I have the feeling again.

Something big is going to happen in this mission. Don't know what, but something is coming. Guess I need to be on my guard more than usual huh? Well, whatever is going on, I'll be ready for it; it is my job to be ready for these situations, after all. This is certain to get interesting real quick.

Still doesn't change the fact that I wish I was still on Neylon with Nell, or on Prometheus with Jean. Though, she would probably just have more tests to run on me or new "Experimental" equipment she wants me to try out for her, that didn't work out too well last time, I nearly lost an arm to that ridiculous weapons gauntlet she had me test, and to top it all off she wanted me to be her first human teleportation test case. She thinks I'm mad at her… I should be, but I can't stay mad at her, she is just a kid after all.

Maybe hanging out with Wolf or Kevin hunting Covenant on the fringe would be safer. That assignment was awesome, no lie. Hunting Brutes, Sangheilli, and Kig-Yar Loyalists hiding out in the middle of nowhere. Even had to fight off a few Drinol and a Thresher maw or two. Those things are dangerous.

Well… whatever it is I want to do, I can't really do it right now, so maybe I should just head on over to the dock and wait for my ride to show up…

Yah, I think I'll do that.

I'll write again later.

With that John ended his entry and started packing his things. With quick methodical movements he closed his journal added it to the stack of three others and places them into a hidden compartment inside his bag, those were quickly followed by his sisters locket, and the family photo. The knife he pressed into the sheath that was set on his left shoulder. After locking in the knife he zipped up his bag

He had one bag that held all of his personals. Those included his memoirs, a couple changes of clothes, and additional weapons and munitions. Since he usually wore his armor and weapons he didn't really need a bag for those. Once he had backed his things into his bag he slung it over his shoulder, walked to the door, and did a once over of the room. It was clean and devoid of any evidence that he had used it. Just the way he liked it.

With that done he turned, activated his helmet, opened the door and stepped out into the hall then turned left and made his way for the docks by the time his door shut his head was encased in the grey-green of the Spartans.

Even though it was early the station was already bustling with activity. Personnel were walking to their stations to take over the next shift, and whole platoons were starting their daily training routines while drill sergeants yelled at them to keep up and stay in formation. This wasn't unusual at any hour on a jump station, since they served as a massive floating military barracks most rookies find themselves serving most of their training time on one of them. John himself had served most of his time in boot camp on Jump Station 3 before he was sent to the Special Forces Academy.

Some of the soldiers saluted him as he walked by, to which he saluted back, but for the most part, as the massive Spartan hiked his way to the N-section dock most of the people in the station quickly got out of his way. At one point a whole platoon stopped in their tracks did a right face and saluted the Spartan, john obliged them with a quick precise turn and a sharp return salute. Then the drill instructors bore down on them. They'd pay for that maneuver. But John had done it himself when he has in training and knew from experience that it was totally worth it.

He chuckled lightly to himself as he boarded an elevator that took him down three levels to the N-section also known as the Special Forces Barracks. A short walk down another hall had him facing a large window overlooking the docks. Most of them had ships docked for resupplying or dropping off cargo and personnel, if they needed repair or refitting they would be docked in the docking bay on the Stations lowest levels. But only one of the ten docks reserved for the N-Section had a ship in it. It wasn't N-3. In two minutes he found himself standing at the window overlooking the N-3 Dock. Once there he set his bag on the floor and stood at rest. It was there he stayed for the next 45 minutes awaiting the Normandy.

Pilot Jeff Moreau sat back into his reclined pilot's seat as he enjoyed the view of open slip-space. The plethora of colors that sped by was truly Mind-boggling. Surly nothing could be as beautiful as the rainbow of slip-space. But he would never admit that to a living breathing Sentient.

"Isn't it just beautiful?" A decidedly Female voice broke his thoughts as the Sangheilli officer to his rear left, his co-pilot, Lanoe 'Donii, spoke.

Turning his thoughts to the Beautiful Sangheili woman sitting at the sensory array Terminal he replied. "Oh, Yeah. I've always wanted to stare at absolutely nothing." Which, technically, he was.

She smile broke at that as she reared her hand back and smacked him across the back of the head.

"Hey, Ow. What was that for!"

She only shrugged and went back to her work, "For being an ass."

Laughter burst out from his right. From the Hologram platform to his right the green and orange body of the ships Ai, Donna materialized. "You totally… deserved that." She put in between laughs.

Right then they all heard deliberate footsteps coming to the cockpit. Donna Stopped her laughter and Lanoe just smiled while Joker Treated his new bump. The approaching feet turned out to be none other than their prestigious Captain, David Anderson. He stopped directly behind Joker. "Status report, Joker. How's our progress?"

"Good captain, we should be dropping into real-space in a little less than four minutes.

Anderson Nodded. "What about the ship, everything holding together?"

Joker held back a sigh. This was getting old. "Beautifully Captain. I've never flown a finer ship. She's twice as fast as any cruiser I've flown and could out fly a Raptor." He answered in a tone that barely bordered on professional; he had been asked that question more times than he could care to count during this trip.

"How long till we reach Jump 7." The Captains reply was curt, professional. Typical, trying to get anything but Professional out of this guy is like squeezing water out of a rock. Only a few moments ago he had sent a message to the Captain telling him that they were nearing Jump 7 and that they would be "dropping from Slip-space in 5" which was a revolutionary feat. They had set off from Talana Space station, a spaceport sitting clear on the opposite end of Alliance Space, only two weeks ago. Normally a trip of that length would take nearly a month, even in the most advanced of Sangheili ships. But the Normandy SR7, the only SR7 model thus far, has made the trip in half of that time thanks in no small part to the Colossal, and Experimental, Tantalus Drive Core, a sister model of the Kalvern-slip-space-drive. The experimental ship had more than met its high expectations for speed.

"But that was only one test of many, Joker. We still have the new stealth system, the plasma cannons, the new mini-MAC, and the maneuvering systems to test yet." Joker thought to himself.

"You're just in time Captain." Donna interrupted with a smile. "We should be coming up on the station in…" She raised a green holographic brow at joker.

With a light harrumph he looked to his Console and brought up the "Jump Time" with the light pressing of three Holographic keys. With a beep, a timer came onto the screen

Without even looking at the timer Joker said, "we'll be dropping out of Slip-Space in less than 2 minutes. After that it will be a short flight. Ten minutes, tops."

To which Captain Anderson just gave a nod. "Good work Joker; I'm heading down to the hatch to great our guest." With that the Captain turned on his heels and marched down the hall. Once he was out of earshot Lanoe jumped in. "Ok, last chance Joker. Who do you think we'll be picking up at Jump-7?"

He snorted. Shortly after they had set off on their test voyage and the crew was fully informed of what their route would include all sorts of wild rumors and bets had been flying around in regards to who they would be picking up at the jump Station. And the ridiculousness of the claims were only inflamed when the Spectre had been picked up during a pit stop to the secret military/science facility hidden in the Tural Nebula six days ago."Probably just another Goody-two-shoes Officer that gets paid a whole lot more than me. That alone is STILL reason enough for me not to care." Which was a lie, inside he was dying to know who they were picking up, but he had spent most of his life building a rep as a snarky, smart ass with an unfathomable love of sarcasm. A reputation he planned to keep as long as he could.

Lanoe threw a disapproving look at him, but before she could make a comment another voice broke in. "I'll tell yah who it is." Corporal Jenkins, a member of the Marine complement aboard the Normandy came into the cockpit and took a seat in the only available chair, directly opposite Lanoe's position.

"How do you know who it is Jenkins?" Donna Looked Skeptical and Lanoe was intently interested, And Joker put a mask of indifference on his face.

The young marine swung around in his chair and Grinned with Impish delight. "You guys wouldn't believe me if I told you." It was obvious He was excited about something.

"That's not fair Jenkins." Lanoe almost sounded whiny. "You can't just get our hopes up then tear them down like that."

"Come on Jenkins, you may as well tell us." Donna broke in. "It's not like it's anything that the rest of the crew hasn't thought of already."

"I seriously doubt that guys." Killing looks from all around. "Alright, fine." He took a deep breath. "Ok, a friend of mine is in training for SpecOp and his squad just landed at Jump 7, he just sent me a message telling me how he and his squad just met a Spartan IIX while heading to registration."

"So what," Joker commented. "There are probably a dozen Spartans on that station right now."

Jenkins smiled and continued. "Well, he said the Spartan was standing at the N-3 Dock waiting for an experimental ship to arrive." From the blank stares he received he figured he needed to explain. ", technically, we are riding in a Special operations Vessel and there can't be THAT many experimental ships flying around right now about to dock with Jump 7."

"No way," Joker refuted with a wave of his hand. "Spartans are special operatives that are worth a lot more than this little mission we're on. Heck, he's probably worth more than ten times what it took to build this ship. No offense Donna."

"Now wait just a second." Donna tried to interrupt.

Joker ignored her. "He's probably just waiting for a cruiser to pick him up for an assault on a smuggler stronghold or a secret Covenant base. If he's even there." Before anyone, including the 'now growling' Donna, could retort, "Hang on a sec," he pressed a key on his console then spoke, his voice echoing throughout the Normandy's speakers. "All crew members prepare for inertial shift. Dropping out of Slip-space in 10 seconds"

The Crew waited. A few seconds later came the familiar sensation of falling as the Normandy Dropped out of the Rainbow of Slip-space into the eternal black, star dotted void of Real-space opening the cockpit to the view of the Rokel System. Just a few hundred klicks to the Normandy's right rested Jump-Station-7 in all its gleaming Titanium A-5 plated glory, it looked like all the rest of them, a giant metal cylinder with rams coming out at even intervals down its length. And nearly 6 thousand kilometers ahead of them rested the garden world of Delvin Prime.

Joker went to contact the Captain but he beat him to it. "Joker, head to dock. Our guest is waiting. After we pick him up we'll refuel and resupply."

"Ay, Captain." then there was a beeping. They were being hailed. Probably by Jump-7. Joker thought

He took a breath but Donna stopped him with a hand, "Already on it Joker."

While Donna was receiving communicating with the traffickers Jenkins pulled a credit chit out of his pocket and smiled. "I'll bet you fifty bucks that we dock at N-3."

"Ohh, you are so on." Joker was positive that there was no way they were picking up a Spartan, much less an IIX, what he said was true. They were ridiculously valuable to the Alliance and where ever you saw one, you knew that Shit had hit the fan. He knew their mission (this was defiantly not a test run, attendance of Spectre and their Dear old Captain attested to that) it was bound to be important. But important enough for a Spartan? No freaking way. He had that fifty buck in the bag.

A few moments later there was another series of beeps as the Normandy received docking information. "Ok, dock at Pier N-3. Our "Guest" is waiting there."

Joker and Jenkins yelled at the same time

"What?"

"YES!"

Jenkins smiled happily and held out an open hand to Joker. "Time to pay up dude."

Joker grudgingly handed him a fifty chit along with a few mumbles that Jenkins was glad he didn't hear.

Very little was said as they came closer to the colossal station but once they reached the dock. There, standing in the long window overlooking Pier n-3 from only sixty meters away, was standing a single person. Joker gasped when his sharp eyes caught his movements. "Holy Crap!"

"What is it?" Lanoe and Jenkins said at once.

Joker ignored them, merely pointing at the window, "Donna, zoom in on that guy in the window."

"Why-"

"Just do it." Joker cut off

She just sighed as a holographic screen materialized on front of them and zoomed onto the man watching the Normandy dock. As the screen came into focus they all gasped

Lanoe was wide eyed, "Ancestors… is that?"

"Yep," Donna served, "only one type of soldier wears that uniform." Said soldier was standing in the center of the window. He appeared to stand a little over seven feet tall and he was wearing a Full-Body cast of heavy dark green/grey combat armor plated over a dark gray Kevlar-23 body-glove, though the gauntlets, forearm bracers, boots, belt, and back were slightly larger than they had to be. Other than that, the soldier appeared to be armed for war. A heavy pistol rested in a clamp on the man's left leg, and a sleek submachine gun of equal caliber rested on his right. A heavy-duty combat knife was set on his left shoulder and the butt of a sniper-rifle poked out over his right shoulder, anything else he wore on his back was hidden by his body size. His utility belt held bags and pouches that could hold only god knows what. There were other dangerous asset on his calves, thighs, and under his arms, but those were grenades, spare ammo packs or smaller arms that looked like backup weapons. And lastly, on the man's left shoulder a gold Spartan helm was painted into a Silver band under the Alliance crest, a red, white, and blue eagle holding an arrow and an olive branch flying inside the arch of a silver chevron.

It was the classic image of a Spartan. A man/woman decked out in armor that looks more fitting for a heavy assault tank and more than enough weapons and ammunition to arm a platoon.

They all heard the docking clamps take hold of the ship and the entry ramp and loading ramp clamp into place.

Joker was breathless. "It's a Spartan..."

"Told you so," Jenkins said happily as he pocketed his winnings and left the cockpit

John Watched as the silvery destroyer drifted into dock. It was a design he hadn't seen before except in the pictures he had seen on his trip here. The main body looked like a cross between that of a sharp and dangerous human Destroyer and the only slightly less utilitarian and avian design that the Turian Hierarchy favored, long and sleek, just like a predator Hawk. Both completely to rough to be anything but a human ship; and also to artful to be a human Vessel. It was honestly a strange and not unpleasant mix of two separate worlds.

"Nice ship." He said to no one in particular although he still saw the wings as a waste of building material. He hefted his bag and walked to the Dock inspecting the ship along the way. As he walked he could pick out the laser projectors and missile pods on the ship's hull. There was even a projector of some type on the center of the front side ship, he figured there was another one on the opposite side. It looked something akin to the 'Sunder Cannons' which could only be explained as the human version of the Plasma projector. But those were too big to put on ships this small. As he drew closer he saw several people waiting at the ramp, six in all. Two of them, due to the Heavy armor and rifles they wore, were obviously marines. The third was dressed in lighter armor, but still that of a marine, "Probably a sniper… ".then his mind stopped for a full second as he thought of one other possibility."Or he's an adept… I'm not that threatening am I?" He laughed quietly at his own joke.

Men numbers 4 and 5 were dressed in naval officer's uniforms. 4 wore the rank of a 1st Lieutenant and on the neck and shoulders of 5's uniform were the gold bars of a ship Captain; it was no other than Captain David Anderson. He looked just like he did in his pictures, average height, strong build, dark brown skin, and black hair shaved low. He knew the Captain wouldn't recognize him, even if he didn't have his helmet on; they'd only met each other once, on Torfan. And despite what some Spartans did to personalize their suits, they still look identical to anyone that didn't spend a lot of time around them.

The last man, if he could call him that, was a Turian. The Turian's skin was a light shade of red, almost rosy and he wore a heavy set of combat armor. The white ink tattoo on his face was familiar; it took him a moment to remember he had fought beside a turian with the same markings when Alliance personnel were dispatched to rescue a Citadel ship that had crashed on an uncharted world in Alliance Space when they were assaulted by Covenant forces. "Kuryil, that was his name…", they had even become something akin to friends, before Kuryil took a bullet to the head. John had never gotten around to asking about the tattoo's though.

After the few long strides that left the Spartan standing in front of the men he snapped a crisp salute to the Captain. While the other three men didn't shift their position their faces did show visible surprise and slight unease for the new comer. The last person they would have expected to join their crew would have been a Spartan.

Captain Anderson returned the salute. "Spartan, it's good to have you aboard the Normandy… I assume that you have been briefed on our mission?"

"No, sir, I had been informed that I would be briefed during transit." This was something that had made John obscenely curious about this mission. Very rarely, well, actually it's more like never was a Spartan NOT BRIEFED about his or her mission, a Spartan was the highest special operative within the Alliance military. It's almost unheard of to be given a mission that you won't know what you are doing until you arrive on scene. Ever since his meeting with the Admiral 3 days ago he had researched for what that meant. In the last 300 years there had been less than a dozen instances when a Spartan was not given specific mission parameters by the board. The first of these was John-3-117's mission to the first Halo.

At that the Captain just nodded as if that is what he had been expecting."Then we should get you up to speed, but first, introductions. I am Captain David Anderson commanding officer of the Normandy." He gestured to the bright silvery Vessel that was obviously the "Normandy" then he continued to introduce the Soldiers beside him.

Captain Anderson turned to the other officer, "this man is First Lieutenant William Pressly the Normandy's Executive Officer and head navigator." He motioned to the possible adept, "This man here is Second Lieutenant Kaiden Alenko. Mr. Alenko is the head of the Marine Complement aboard the ship," then he turned and motioned to the Turian. "And this good man here Is Nihlus Kryik, a Council Spectre."

The Spectre nodded to John and offered a hand, which the Spartan took full heartedly, but not too much so, he was a Spartan after all, and with the slightest squeeze he could crush the bones in the Turian's hand.

"Spartan, I have yet to have had the honor of working with one of your people. But I have heard only good things." from John's personal experience with Turians he could tell the slight movement of his mandibles was the Turian equivalent of a smirk. "I look forward to us working together."

John smile under his helmet and nodded lightly in understanding. "Likewise, Spectre."

Captain Anderson's eyes gleamed for a moment as he studied the Spartan. "Now that introductions are out of the way, head inside. Lieutenant Alenko will show you to your quarters. Meanwhile, Nihlus and I have Business on the station. I should be back within the hour." Then he walked into the Station followed closely by Nihlus.

John turned to the remaining group as soon as they were out of ear reach.

Pressly's eyes held his for a moment before his face brightened into a smile; he offered a hand which John took. "Welcome to the Normandy Sir, like Captain Anderson said, I'm his XO. If you need anything during your stay please feel free to ask and we will try to get it done to the best of our ability."

"I'll keep that in mind Lieutenant Pressly."

"Please, just call me Pressly; we'll probably be working together for a while, so I don't think the formality is necessary."

"Very well Pressly," John acknowledged. "Lead the way."

He didn't seem to take offense that the Spartan didn't offer a name. Most of them wouldn't, that was a privilege saved for only close friends or other Spartans

Pressly led the way through the Normandy's Airlock, which, as Pressly described, would but them on the Normandy's second deck which contined the crew quarters, mess, armory, and the med bay. As it cycled he described the layout of the Normandy and how the days ran on board. Once through the airlock, they entered a average sized room with a door on all four walls. Above each was a label. The door they came through was labeled; Hatch. The door to their right; Med-bay. To their left; Armory, and directly ahead of them; MessAfter they entered the ship he got a call from the flight deck asking him to help out with a navigational error.

"oh, I need to get this fixed." He motioned to Kaiden. "can you finish the tour?"

"Sure Pressly, I got it covered."

"you're a credit to the Uniform Alenko." He said as he disappeared on the other side of the mess hall door.

"He's a good Guy, real friendly and a hard worker. He's a good exec."

"A good friend of mine once said a good XO was worth more than his weight in bullets. I find myself agreeing with the assessment."

Kaiden nodded solemnly. "I probably would too if my uniform was an armory."

John just laughed till tears were in his eyes. He had to collapse his helmet to wipe them away. He just left it down as he turned to the Lieutenant. "You know, that's the same that everyone says, but go ahead and laugh it up, cause when I'm the only one out there with ammo and working guns you guys always come running."

Kaiden didn't believe that for a second, but he had never fought beside a Spartan before."So… you keep enough ammo and weapons to outfit a platoon in case someone comes calling for ammo or a gun?"

"No, I keep them for me. It just never hurts to have extras." John smiled. "There was a time when I thought the same way you do. But that was before I ran out of everything except my bare hands and my brain."

Kaiden pursed his lips. "well, I wouldn't know about that. I've never been in that situation."

"hope that you don't, it sucks, but point taken"

Kaiden smirked and lead john into the armory, it was a small room with racks full of rifles and pistols and grenades. In the middle of the room sat a couple of tables and a console on a work table. There were about a dozen lockers against the inside wall all marked with their own name. The marine's personal lockers.

Kaiden motioned around the room "Welcome to our Armory. Where we store, you guessed it, rifles, pistols, and grenades galore." He grimaced as he finished the rhyme. "I know, corny rhyme, still… you get the point. We have a fully stocked work bench for any additions you want to make to your weapons and/or any refit or repair that may or may not become necessary. Over on that wall we have the ground team lockers, only six of them are in use at the moment so feel free to claim any of the open ones. Just type your name into the display and set a code. I'll be waiting In the mess, Spartan."

John acknowledged him with a nod. "Thanks Kaiden," but before he could walk out the door john stopped continued. "And Lieutenant."

He turned and looked the Spartan in the eye, "Yah?"

"Call me Shepard."

He just slowly smiled and saluted. "Ay, Shepard." Then he turned and left the room.

John just smiled, he'd made a friend.

In five minutes he had his Armor and weapons stored and he was dressed in his military fatigues and Combat boots.

As he stepped through the door into the mess hall he thought that if the rest of the crew were as interesting as Kaiden and Pressly, then this was going to be an interesting assignment indeed.

Galactic Codex: Technology/Weapons/Alliance

Though the United Systems Alliance are considered by their own standards as a powerful Tier 2 civilization most of their weaponry is not energy based. The majority of the weaponry they develop still use metal projectiles.

Much like the Citadel Councils weapons, ammunition is universal and consists of a block of metal that has been specially built to produce rounds that hold up to the exceedingly high speeds at which their weapons fire them. But unlike the Citadel Council, the USA holds to the fact, that when it comes to weapons, bigger is always better. the rounds their weapons fire are, on average, over ten times the size of the average Citadel round, this very heavy mass, added to the mass effect of the Element Zero cores in their weapons allow them to fire rounds with a power that is currently unattainable to Citadel firearms, though they cannot fire as many shots per 'clip' they are much more lethal weapons,

There is one drawback, however, to this method of design. The Alliance does not include aim correction technology so their Soldiers must learn how to "compensate" for Atmosphere and weather Alliance, however, does not consider this a disadvantage. Claiming that the training that their soldiers go through, make them even more capable and equipped than any in the Citadel military. It also teaches them to not depend on technology to do their job.

i know that with how he's dressed and the talk of ammo and weapons will probably spark some curiosity about the Alliance's weapons so here is a codex for it.

Whew... are these chapters getting longer, or is that just me?
... that is a word count of 5,995 (actual chapter+codex) WOW, i did not think i could do it... that's practically a 6k word chapter. i have impressed myself.

And, Yes, I know that i changed the Normandy, the Normandy in the game just did not make any sense to me, so i botched it and remade it for this story.

on another note; I feel like I've been writing John as a thing more than a person, maybe it's just me, but that's what i think when i read this. so this chapter I tried to delve into a bit more feeling, a bit more of his emotional side, Via the journal entries, so tell me how i did if you wouldn't mind sparing a few moment of your time on a review :) and be honest.

I do allow anonymous reviews in case some of you are wondering...

as always, if you have any questions, thoughts, naggings, or things that you found just plain stupid, please review,

PS. i just found out that i can reply to a review! i didn't know i could do that :D so I'll try and get back with you if you give a review

as usual, i shall update when I'm able.