DISCLAIMER: Mass Effect video game is the property of its respective owners and the author has no financial gain from it. Original Characters and story concept are mine though.

A/N: Here is the first part of Chapter 5 of Multiverse Effect, for your enjoyment. This one is pushing about 6k words. Feel free to comment - your feedback as readers is as always very appreciated even if it's critical of the work. It helps me improve as a writer, even if sometimes it is rather bitter pill to swallow. :)

My beta is still the one and the only Redentor

Chapter 5 – Forging The Bonds

Most people do not really want freedom, because freedom involves responsibility, and most people are frightened of responsibility.

Sigmund Freud

The flight to the city was uneventful. I boarded the cargo shuttle taking equipment from the military exercise area back to one of the army warehouses in Port Helix. I talked the pilots into letting me sit in the crew cabin and I even convinced them to let my fly the shuttle for a few minutes – admittedly, such behaviour was more befitting of a kid in Disneyland, than a soon to be covert agent. It was exacerbated by the fact that the craft lost altitude by a few hundred feet rather rapidly, before the pilot managed to get back behind the controls. I apologised profusely for my incompetence, but the pilots didn't seem to mind as they actually found my bumbling attempts at flying pretty funny.

In no time we landed in the building occupied by Security Branch. I left the building immediately after checking in with the clerks and from there I hailed the hover-taxi, which took me to the Interactive Dislocation Department's Alsmoor facility. It was located far away from the city for security reasons, so I had to pay an exorbitant amount of money for my journey. A quick call however, confirmed that I would be reimbursed for it. It was good, because I definitely didn't feel like paying for the travels that I was ordered to do by my superiors.

Last time I was in the IDD complex I was still frightened and overwhelmed by the whole dimension hopping business, but now, more than two weeks later, I felt confident and calm. Thanks to my training so far I immediately took notice of how lax the security in the building was. When I tried to check in with the security guard at the gate, he just waved me in without looking up from his video game. Shaking my head in disbelief I came up to the reception area and sat there waiting for someone to take interest in me and direct me to Dr. Koeckritz. No such luck, of course – people who passed through the reception area barely paid me any attention. The Security Branch uniform and the sidearm that I carried with me everywhere nowadays raised some eyebrows, but no one bothered to come up and ask for my identification papers. To top it all, the receptionist was absent from her usual spot, so I had no one to ask for directions.

Finally fed up with the long wait, I got up and stopped the first person I could find in the ugly grey overalls that all IDD personnel wore. It turned out to be a pretty (here's a surprise, bet you didn't expect that) and tall blonde who walked through one of the corridors. She typed something on her wrist-comp (it was definitely smaller than our Omni-tool-like devices) and wore glasses with a headset that displayed diagrams of some sort. She was talking through the aforementioned device with considerable force.

"Yes Michael, that's what we're going to do. If the Finance Department doesn't like it, they can bring it up with the boss. We need more funding and we need it now!"

I patted her on the arm. She gave me an exasperated glare and spoke again to the person on the other end of the line.

"I'll call you back, Michael. Some military jock is bothering me."

She took her headset off and asked in an irritated voice.

"Can I help you, sir? I'm in the middle of a very important experiment for our Research and Development department, not that you would know anything about it." She gave me a disdainful look.

I almost snickered at that. Was she doing the haughty scientist routine? And she claimed to be 'in the middle of the experiment'. That was rich, especially since she was traipsing around the facility gossiping on the phone. I was too amused by her clichéd reaction to even be offended. I decided to play along for a moment and have little fun, while we were at it. I adopted the stereotypical country boy accent and said.

"I dunno nuffin' 'bout no experiments, missus. They's jus' payin' me to shoot stuff y'know. They's told me to come here 'n' talk to head doctor. Got hit in th' head real hard y'know?" I pointed at my blue beret and shrugged. "Got trouble talkin' a lil' now."

I was laying it really thick, but she seemed to buy my little performance. She looked up at the ceiling and her eyes seemed to say: 'God, why me?' She sighed heavily and looked back at me with a pained expression.

"Look, if you were injured in training you should be in the military hospital, not here."

I pointed at her with the dumbest expression I could muster. It was really hard to keep from laughing now.

"Bu' you're a doctor, ain' chu? Call du' head doctor and they 'an give me pills fo' my head."

She started protesting.

"Look, I'm not a medical doctor…" she noticed my uncomprehending face and stopped.

She seemed desperate to leave, but her sense of moral duty must have prevailed. She looked like someone about to be executed, but she forced a smile nevertheless and asked me.

"Can you tell me the name of your doctor, so I could find him for you?"

I nodded dumbly and fumbled with my wrist-comp. I made a show of pressing some random icons, before I called up Dr. Koeckritz's contact details. I presented it to her proudly, holding it upside-down. She looked at the details and tried to decipher them. Squinting her eyes and finally recognizing the name, the unknowing victim typed something into her own wrist-comp. She looked back to my dumb expression and said.

"Please wait here. I will call your doctor."

She left the reception mumbling something about irresponsible caretakers leaving disabled men to fend for themselves.

When she was out of hearing distance, I couldn't hold it anymore and I started to laugh. It was a stupid and childish prank, but it was fun to do anyway.

So I waited in the reception area reclining comfortably at one of the couches. I waited for the lady to come back with Anneke. After five minutes or so I heard loud voices approaching. I recognized the woman from before talking to my good doctor.

"I don't know what the Army is doing, Anneke. They have their own hospitals, yet they saw it fit to leave a mentally disabled serviceman here, all alone. I wouldn't be surprised if he was actually brain damaged. I wonder though, where he got your contact details."

They entered the reception from one of the hallways. The female from before was walking with Anneke and she pointed me out. Dr. Koeckritz recognized me instantly and gave an exasperated sigh.

"That's alright, Silvia. He is a displaced person and he's not mentally disabled. Though sometimes I have my doubts."

Extricating myself from the couch, I approached them with a smile.

"It's good to see you again, Dr. Koeckritz." I nodded at her stunned companion politely and said, "Thank you for bringing Anneke here. I wouldn't have been able to find her without you, ma'am."

By then, Silvia recovered from her shock and looked ready to explode. She pointed at my face and said coldly.

"I don't know what games are you playing, sir. That is not an acceptable behaviour."

Anneke decided to intervene before it escalated out of control.

"I apologize for my friends' immature behaviour. He sometimes forgets that not everyone enjoys his schoolyard humour," She said in a placating manner, hoping to diffuse the situation.

Deciding that enough was enough I bowed slightly to Silvia and said.

"I'm sorry for that. I really meant no harm and it wasn't even that funny," I lied, "Perhaps I could invite you for a coffee sometime as an apology?" I enjoyed playing games with people, but if I saw that they were clearly unhappy or uncomfortable with it I always apologized. Call it my instinct of self-preservation.

Silvia seemed pacified by my apology. She gave me a small but tight smile and extended her hand.

"Silvia Pereira, Research and Development, Interactive Dislocation Department."

I shook her hand and returned, "Lieutenant Peter Dubois, External Affairs Bureau, Security Branch. My offer still stands."

She laughed at me and gave me a subtle once-over.

"I'll see you around, lieutenant. Have a good day, Annie!" she waved at us and left, putting her headset back on and calling one of her co-workers to resume her 'important experiments'.

Meanwhile, Anneke looked at me appraisingly, "You look good in uniform, Peter." She started walking and indicated that I follow her. "How is Security Branch treating you?"

"It's all good. Apparently we abused data-transfers a little and now you need to examine me to see if I'm alright. How are you guys doing?"

We walked toward the familiar mess hall and we sat down at one of the tables. An Automaton glided toward us and passed the coffee and some cookies. Anneke picked up some chocolate-chip cookies and put it on her plate. I added some milk to my coffee and took a sip. It was strange – I barely drank any coffee back on Earth and here I was drinking it every day. Perhaps my body was compensating for the lack of beer lately?

Anneke smiled at me, "We've been alright so far. I've been forwarded another project in the meantime, but I have enough time to be doing your psych evaluation as well. The guys are on holiday. Christiansen went home to laze around and Gillespie went to a skiing trip if I recall correctly. Vassilevskiy is a workaholic, so he's probably freelancing."

"Freelancing?" I could hardly imagine what kind of freelancing work a geneticist could do. As far as I knew from my readings, genome research and all applications of it were one of the very few things that Confederacy government had full monopoly on. This was especially true after a couple of spectacular corporate blunders a decade or so ago, which forced the government to crack down hard on illegal research labs.

Anneke noticed my dumbfounded expression and explained.

"He is not freelancing as a researcher. He's a security consultant for Nebular Dynamics, a large corporation dealing with terraforming. I'm not sure what he's doing there, but it must have something to do with his previous work with Security Branch."

I nodded at that and said jokingly, "You know us, dark and mysterious types from External Affairs Bureau. Always plotting and scheming."

"I know. You're getting kicks from keeping us - the poor, dumb civilians – ignorant. It's all for our own good, of course!"

We shared a hearty laugh at that and talked some more about other mundane topics as we munched on the cookies and drank our lattes.

When we were done with the coffee, Anneke asked me to follow her for my examination. I was actually quite curious why she of all people had to do it. I would expect that either the Army or Security Branch to have their own psychologists to deal with any mental problems that servicemen might develop.

I asked Anneke as we walked. "It's a different procedure for displaced people. The IDD must keep tabs on you, until you receive your final body, to make sure that you're adjusting properly."

So we went to one of the office rooms. To my relief it wasn't the retro futuristic interrogation room, where we had our first conversation when I woke up. As we walked through the corridors of the Interactive Dislocation Department facility I felt a wave of nostalgia – we only first met two weeks ago, but it felt more like a year now. The data-transfers are very useful, but they really screw up your perception of time.

The room was just a small recreational area with two comfortable armchairs, a small table and a couch by the wall. There were no windows or mirrors, but some poor soul added two of the ubiquitous potted plants to liven up the space a little. I took of my beret, put it under my shoulder strap and looked at Anneke with a smile.

"So, can I sit in a chair or do we go for the couch straight away, doctor?"

Only after saying it did I catch the unintentional double-entendre. Anneke blushed slightly, but soldiered on.

"You didn't even buy me a dinner, so let's take the chairs."

As we sat, she took out her holo-tablet and checked her notes. I waited patiently as she scanned the contents of the document. Finally, she put her tablet away.

"Major Sharpe told me that you've been using knowledge transfers a lot in the course of your training."

"That is correct," I answered shortly.

"Have you noticed them having any adverse effects on your body?"

"Not that I can think of. I sometimes feel tired after few transfers in a day, but that's about it."

Anneke checked something in her notes.

"I was advised that data-transfers are painful for your body?"

I winced at the memory of the excruciating pain and the feeling of a metal hand clamping over my throat. I was getting used to the pain associated with knowledge transfer, but it wasn't getting any better.

I decided to be curt about it, as I didn't want to sound like a whiny brat.

"That is correct."

"And yet your trainers never saw it fit to limit the amount of transfers you receive?"

"We haven't got time for that, doc. We have measly three months for me to reach some level of competence before my deployment. There is no other way."

Dr. Koeckritz exhaled with irritation.

"I strongly recommend that you limit the number of transfer per day. I will put it in your file and pass it to Captain Galtieri."

I looked at her surprised and alarmed. My surprise turned into anger.

"You can't do that! I won't make it in three months without the knowledge transfers!" I shouted.

"Peter, you have terrible pains each time a transfer is done," She said quietly, but firmly.

"They're just phantom pains. Nothing I can't handle," I snarled.

She looked at me with barely concealed concern.

"Yes, your body can handle that, but what about your mind? It's not just your feelings of tiredness. What about these mood swings?"

"What are you talking about, doc? My conduct so far has been exemplary." I said coldly.

Anneke shook her head, sticking to her guns, "Listen to yourself, Peter. The pains caused by data transfer along with the amount of information you receive are wearing you down. One moment you're laughing, then flirting and the next you're ready to tear my head off. That is not normal behaviour."

She had a point, even though I didn't like it.

"Alright, I might be stressed out a little," I conceded, "But that's just because it was the first time I was leading people in a combat situation. I have right to be apprehensive at times."

As an afterthought, I held up a singular digit to illustrate a point, "And might I add that while it had all the grace and dramatic timing that people have come to expect from me, my double-entendre in regards to the couch was completely unintentional."

I leaned back in the armchair and pressed my hands to my face. I stayed in this position for a moment then I straightened up and looked at Anneke with a serious expression.

"I need these data transfers. I'm going to be deployed in Mass Effect Universe against the Reapers with minimal training and preparation. I need every little piece of data to run operations against them and other powers in the galaxy. If you limit my data transfers you will be killing me in the long run."

I was being a little dramatic, but I felt it was within my rights. She would be staying here, while I was going to have my internal (and possibly external) organs liquefied by Reapers and god knows what else. But Anneke remained unconvinced.

"If I let you continue as you are now, you will kill yourself. I'm trying to help you, Peter! Work with me, please," she added.

"I know you want to help, but I need this knowledge."

I put my hand on hers and said with all the confidence I could muster.

"I can handle that, doc. I won't be going crazy anytime soon."

I paused for a moment, thinking of a way to convince her. I decided it would be best to change the topic, so I said with a lecherous grin, gently massaging her hand.

"Besides, I can think of a few things we can do to relieve my stress."

She slapped my hand away, but I could see that she was smiling again.

"You're cute, but I'm happily married thank you very much. Besides, that would be violating doctor-patient relationship."

"So if I wasn't your patient we would have taken the couch?" I asked, still grinning.

"Nope," Anneke said.

"You're breaking my heart, doc!" I responded trying and failing to look hurt.

She answered in a deadpan tone, which was reminiscent of our first meeting.

"My scientific experiments determined that you do not have a heart, Lieutenant Dubois. In its stead you possess a black hole which sucks all the happy feelings from its vicinity."

"Harsh," I said with a smile.

"The truth usually is," She said in the same deadpan voice. After a moment she added awkwardly, "It was just a joke, you know."

I laughed at that and got up.

"If it wasn't I wouldn't be laughing. Are we done here, doc?"

She looked up at me and said with a guarded expression.

"There is one more thing, Peter."

I sat back down and motioned at her to continue. It was bound to be good.

"Sergeant Major Aberswythe reported that you said during your briefing two days ago and I quote: 'I don't care if I die'. Is it really how you feel about your situation, lieutenant?"

I crossed my legs and sighed. I really didn't want to talk about it, but she was my shrink. I answered her question with a question of my own.

"What do you expect me to say, doc? That I'm all chill with the fact that you took me from home and from the people I loved?"

I stood up and started pacing around the room, no longer capable of calmly sitting down. It was as if all my feelings of resentment, carefully bottled up until now, were pouring out of me in a flow that I couldn't stop.

"I'm not some monkey you can put in a golden cage and give me toys to play with. I'm a fucking human being, doc," I was cursing, but it lacked its usual vitriol. My tone of voice sounded simply tired.

That's how I felt – tired. I was tired of everything: the people, who weren't my people, this country that wasn't my country and this mission in a bloody fictional universe, which will most likely kill me. And nobody would know, nobody would care – I will be just another name (not even my real name!) put through a freaking meat-grinder. I felt so conflicted about everything, that I didn't know what to do with myself. I stopped pacing and stood by the wall, with my arms folded.

Anneke stood up and walked up to me. She put her hands on my shoulders, while I fought off a wave of nausea.

"We had no idea that you felt like this, Peter."

I looked at her and said.

"Look, forget what I said. It's nice here – I admit. And I appreciate that I'm learning so many new things. I will do my mission, because I already agreed to do it. I'm even excited for that. But I can't forget and I can't forgive the way you brought me here, Anneke."

"That's the standard procedure, Peter."

"Then the standard procedure is wrong. Why didn't you just ask me? I would have agreed."

I shook my head, "Jesus, of course I would have agreed. You could just spin a tale about saving the galaxy and I probably would have gone with you."

She smiled at me sadly.

"You wouldn't, Peter. You wouldn't have left your family, especially not to save a fictional galaxy."

I sighed and nodded at her.

"No, I probably wouldn't have. But it doesn't make it alright, you know?"

I actually felt much better. It was good to finally have someone to tell what I thought deep down. I couldn't really confide in Galtieri or Sharpe, because they were my superiors. Both of them were distinguished operators and I freely admit that I was in awe of their achievements – complaining to them would make me feel even less capable and the same went for Aberswythe. I couldn't well talk about it with my fireteam, even with Specialist Fahri. They expected me to command them with confidence and skill and breaking down in front of them would be a failure of leadership. Anneke was the only person I had left with whom I could talk freely.

"No, it doesn't make it alright, Peter. But it doesn't make you a 'monkey in a golden cage', either. You've had enough data transfers to know that."

I laughed at that, seeing as knowledge transfers were the main point of contention so far.

"I guess you're right. It's just my own insecurities catching up with me. Perhaps we can ease with the transfers for the weekend? That way I can still learn at faster pace, while having two days to recuperate."

She nodded seriously, again all business-like.

"That's reasonable – I will pass this recommendation to Captain Galtieri."

I gave her a quick hug and said awkwardly.

"Thanks for listening to my rant, doc."

She smiled and patted my shoulder.

"Just remember that we are here for you and you will be fine, lieutenant" She paused and added quietly. "I know your family would be proud of you. And so would Erica."

"Thank you for saying that," I answered.

In truth, there was something else that I could have told her at that moment. A thought that might just terrify me more than the approaching mission into Mass Effect universe. I wasn't Peter Dubois. That had already been established. It was just a name given to me to ease my integration into my new responsibilities. But at the same time, did I really have a truly real name? My mind strayed back to what Anneke had told me when I first arrived here.

That I was a copy. The real Peter was with Erica right now, laughing, living his life. Both of them, completely unaware that there was a 'Peter Dubois' out there, green with envy at the thought of their happiness.

The thought that was worth a few sleepiness nights, could I really consider myself to be me?

I shrugged it off immediately. No, down that road led some serious issues, the likes of which would keep a normal shrink operating comfortable for years. I was me. I really had no-one else I could be.

Anneke and I shared a laugh as we left, and I made a point to make sure the laughter reached my eyes.

After our conversation Anneke declared me fit for duty. I would be coming to see her for my physical examination at later time.

The return from Alsmoor facility was anti-climactic. You remember these American films when the hero finally comes to terms with his situation and accepts it for what it is? I don't know why, but I expected some happy music playing in the background, birds chirping and a rainbow or two in the sky. Reality, as usual, struck me again with the force of a main battle tank. It was raining and I got soaking wet while waiting for the hover-taxi, which would take me back to the Security Branch landing pad.

When the hover-taxi finally came I asked the driver to take the scenic route. I wanted to take a look at this world, because I always loved travelling back on Earth. I wasn't in any hurry to go back to the base. Besides, it would all be a mess because of the war games and I wouldn't be having any classes or training anyway. Ever since my induction into the ranks of the Security Branch I've never had the time to just sit down and enjoy some down time. When I was on duty I was constantly reminded of the Reapers and the threat they presented, so I worked myself to a near exhaustion daily. But now, I decided to just take things slow and enjoy my leave.

As I sat in the passenger seat looking out of the window, I got a video-call on my wrist-comp from Patricia van Koolwijk asking how my therapy went. I was grateful for her interest and happy that she called. Her light sense of humour was exactly what I needed right now.

"It was okay. Things got pretty emotional, but I have it under control now," I said, trying to sound tougher than I felt.

"Did you cry like a little girl, Peter?" she teased me with a wicked smile.

"I cried manly tears, Patricia. They only emphasized the internal strength of my character," I managed to say it with completely straight face.

She laughed at me and said, "Of course they did, Peter." Her amused expression defied her words.

Her tone turned serious and I recognized that we were back 'on the clock'.

"Our AIs have run a full analysis of your patrol, focusing on the decisions you had made during the course of your combat mission, lieutenant."

I was immediately curious as to what conclusions they have reached. During the patrol I was convinced that all choices I made were logical, but now I wasn't so sure. Maybe I should have called the whole thing off, when we took out the three-man strongpoint and intercepted OpFor data? We exceeded our original mission parameters by a large margin and it was pure dumb luck that only Kowalski was 'wounded'. Perhaps my first mission as a commander wasn't the best time to show off such initiative.

"Your conduct of the patrol received good marks overall. Maintaining a stealthy approach allowed you to acquire Intel, which helped the friendly forces a great deal in achieving a tactical victory."

"The plan on taking the strongpoint was Sergeant Aberswythe's idea. I merely executed it to the best of my abilities, ma'am." I wasn't about to allow anyone praise me for someone else's work. I always considered taking credit for something you haven't done yourself to be the lowest and scummiest thing to do.

"You would be surprised how many ranking officers would not heed the SNCO's suggestion on principle, lieutenant. We are satisfied with your decision to put your trust in an experienced subordinate and we would like to encourage such behaviour in the future."

Well, of course I would do it again. That was the whole reason why junior Security Branch officers were placed with experienced NCOs after all. You would have to be dumb to refuse a good idea just because the person who suggested it is technically your subordinate. If there were officers who behaved like that in the field I would be very surprised if they got anything done.

"The only point of contention was your decision to continue with the patrol once the Intel had been acquired. Some officers argued that once you received the data it would have been prudent to call the mission to an end rather than risk an exposure to the Opposing Force. Had you been caught it would have rendered acquired intelligence useless. Other officers argued in your favour. What was your reasoning behind the choice that you had made, lieutenant?"

I had been replaying the combat operation in my mind since it was over and I had been preparing for the questioning of my decisions. I hoped that I would be able to present a good case, otherwise I will be the shortest serving lieutenant in the history of the Security Branch. I knew now that both Captain Galtieri and Major Sharpe were championing for my promotion, but if it was decided that my reasons weren't sound I will be degraded back to officer cadet. I don't think I'd be able to live with such shame.

So I responded to Colonel van Koolwijk's question without any hesitation.

"Yes, ma'am. I had considered ending the mission after acquiring the intelligence from the OpFor strongpoint. I decided against it as I deemed that our forces reaction time would not be sufficient before our infiltration was discovered, which would have resulted in the enemy changing plans. Instead, after consulting my senior NCO we had come to a conclusion that we can use the captured enemy plans to infiltrate the vicinity of their FOB and from there direct the assaulting force. We had been able to sabotage the OpFor automatic defences, which I admit wasn't as much due to our own skill as the enemies' lax security, but which also resulted in a reduction of casualties among the friendly forces to a significant degree. During our assault we sustained just one casualty from Wildcat's unit, which I consider to be an acceptable loss for the tactical victory we achieved. With the knowledge I currently possess concerning our combat situation at the time, my decisions would remain the same."

Colonel Patricia van Koolwijk looked at me with a serious expression.

"Lieutenant Dubois, please be aware that your statement will be going on the record."

"I stand by my statement, ma'am," I was taught that an officer must always show resolve to accept the consequences of his decisions. Even if it costs me my promotion I would not go back on my word. Perhaps it was not the most impressive trait for a spy, but we were talking about a training exercise after all. Whether that would also hold true for a real combat situation I couldn't say.

Colonel nodded her head and smiled at me and it wasn't the friendly, happy smile she usually gave me. It was a professional smile that a Human Resources employee gives you during your job interview.

I must admit here that I was both amazed and terrified how easy it was for the people from the Security Branch to keep their work life and private life separated. I'm sure that back on my Earth it would be considered at least a mild case of schizophrenia. With a grim realization I concluded that by the time my training was over I would be doing the same. I wasn't sure whether I liked where I was heading personality-wise.

"That will be all for now, lieutenant. We will inform you of the committee's decision in due time. Enjoy your leave and have a nice day," said van Koolwijk and closed the video-call. That was it.

Our conversation really felt like a job interview, no joke. There was even a customary 'we will keep in touch with you, sir'. Frankly, I was pretty nervous about this whole situation, knowing that the fate of my promotion was on the line.

Suddenly I had an epiphany. All this conversation with Patricia was a sham. Major Sharpe acted like I was a lieutenant already and he confirmed that General Anjou gave his own go ahead. Captain Galtieri gave me a call few hours ago, congratulating on my promotion. They wouldn't have behaved in this fashion if my promotion wasn't a sure thing. What the Security Branch was doing now, was just another test. They wanted to see whether I would sweat and agonize over some 'committee's' decision and perhaps have a nervous breakdown. In short – they wanted to make sure that they've made the right decision when they promoted me.

I smirked at my own thoughts – everything was part of the training. 'Trust no one' as Galtieri reminded me on a daily basis. When I was finally deployed in Mass Effect universe, I would be on my own. I won't have the luxury of taking any data at face value. I would be expected to keep a level head in any stressful situation, because it just might make a difference in a life or death situation. If I wasn't able to master my own fear even when faced with something of little value (like early promotion) then I had no business being in the field, commanding other people. 'Just because we stopped shooting, doesn't mean that the battle is over,' as said Colonel LeRoy Vatell, one of the Security Branch legendary operatives.

But my doubts returned with full force. What if I was wrong? Perhaps I was over-analysing everything once again and reaching all the wrong conclusions? I ceased that train of thought – what was done, was done. There was nothing I could do but wait.

My new line of work was giving me a headache. I haven't had time to unwind since the night I went with Patricia to the officer's lounge and we all know how that ended. Perhaps I could use the free time I had now to visit Port Helix once again. It was a city of three million souls located amongst the Confederate military bases. It was bound to have a pub-crawling area and a red-light district at least for the off-duty servicemen. Military cities and towns were business-oriented like that.

"Hey mate, take me to the city centre, would you please?" I asked the hover-taxi driver. He nodded at me without saying a word. He was probably used to driving drunk soldiers around the city.

When we reached Port Helix, he dropped me off at one of the luxurious boulevards. It was well-lit and the walkways were crowded with people. It was quite shocking to be here, seeing as not twenty four hours ago I was sleeping in my armour on the forest floor. But that was then and now I had some time for myself.

I'd already received my advance payment from Security Branch, so I decided that it was the best time to spend a little of it. The cab driver transferred some info to my wrist-comp concerning the nearest stores, pubs and hostels – everything I would require for the evening. I gave him a quick goodbye and melted into the evening crowd. I never noticed that the cab-driver, the moment he lost the sight of me started talking into a sub vocal transmitter he had concealed under his shirt.

"He's going in."

A/N: So there it is. Someone targets our hapless field agent. What is going to happen to him? Stay tuned for the second part of Chapter 5 of Multiverse Effect.

To Anonymous Reviewer: I humbly accept the things you have pointed out, as many of them contain valid criticism. I tried to make original characters likeable and believable, but if I failed in this instance then I can only apologize. I mentioned in the very beginning that I treat this story mostly as a writing exercise for world-building and character creation for which the Mass Effect was most convenient platform. Not everyone will find this premise interesting - and that is perfectly alright. Anyway, it was good to have you so far. I will not delete your critical review, because you raise many valid points that I will try and address in the course of the story. I am still a beginner writer, but I know what interests me and the premise you mentioned sounds like another cookie-cutter Self Insert, which I simply didn't find appealing.

Have a good one!

RosoMC