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 6. It was incredibly difficult to write, but thanks to my Beta and his gracious suggestions it's been done. This chapter has about 7k words. Hope you enjoy it!

My beta is still the one and the only Redentor

Chapter 6 – The Pieces Are There

Regard your soldiers as your children, and they will follow you into the deepest valleys; look on them as your own beloved sons, and they will stand by you even unto death.

Sun Tzu

It wasn't the light – it was darkness. Someone had definitely turned off the lighting in the execution room. I also clearly heard the TechnoFed officer give an order to fire the volley, but no shots were fired.

The fact that I wasn't dead surprised me a little, but it also brought back the fear from before in full force. It seemed that it was only a fake execution. I'd heard of such things done by the Iranian revolutionaries to the American embassy employees during the Iranian Hostage Crisis in '79. If that happened to me, then it could only mean that they would be continuing on with their torture.

I was ready to cry – I couldn't stand either the iron cage or the water hose anymore. I wanted to die so badly, just so it would finally be over. The TechnoFeds it seemed, enjoyed playing with me too much. They were determined to bring me to my knees – even the East German Stasi wasn't that fucking heartless.

I decided that enough was enough, whatever they wanted me to sign now, I would do so gladly. I would confess to anything, even spying for the damn turians. I just wanted this suffering and indignity to end.

Then I heard footsteps approaching fast. The hood was yanked of my head and I was ready to try and cushion the hit that was sure to follow, but nothing happened. I looked at the person who took of my hood and I couldn't believe my eyes.

It was Major Frederick Sharpe. He was wearing his black dress uniform and looking very out of place in the dark execution room. My first reaction was to stand at attention, but at that moment my exhausted body failed me completely and I felt myself falling down.

But Sharpe's reflexes were as good as ever. He caught me mid-fall and propped me against the wall. I was trying to find something to say to explain and perhaps apologize, but the words were eluding me completely.

"Sir, I… sir. I'm… Sir." I just kept repeating over and over again.

Major Sharpe patted me on the shoulder and said.

"You did well, Lieutenant Dubois. It was just a test; you were never in any danger. I'm sorry for everything you had to go through, but we had to be sure that your loyalty is on our side."

I felt tears streaming down my face as I sat down on the dirty floor and put my face in my heads.

"Oh God, oh God… it's finally over…"

Major Sharpe sat next to me and said gently.

"You went above and beyond the call of duty, once more. We expected you to break down within the initial 10 hours. You would have still passed the test, you know? But you held out for whole 36 hours, as per regulations. You are a brave man, lieutenant."

I snorted through my tears.

"I'm not brave, sir. I broke down. They broke me down, repeatedly. I prayed to God for death, and I'm an atheist, sir."

Looking around the empty execution room I sighed heavily, trying to blink away my tears.

"Was it all just to determine my loyalty, sir? Was it really necessary?" I was aware that I sounded like a petulant child, but I'd just spent the night lying in my own piss and I wasn't happy about it, so give me a break.

"Unfortunately, yes. It was absolutely necessary. Not only to test your loyalty, of course."

He indicated our surroundings with a wave of his hand.

"Sooner or later, you would find yourself in a situation where you need to use such… forceful interrogation techniques to acquire the Intel you need. I wanted you to experience the other side of the equation – you needed to learn first how to be the hunted, not the hunter. While at times forceful interrogation is necessary, I want you always to remember these thirty six hours of your life, especially if you choose to torture your prisoner. Never treat an interrogation – any interrogation – lightly."

"Yes sir." I responded quietly.

Major Sharpe smiled at me sadly and said.

"One of those masked soldiers who dragged you from your cell and back was General Anjou himself. He would not allow anyone to shoulder the duty of forcefully interrogating one of his own men. You were told that the decision as to whether you kept your officer rank would be approved by the committee – that was incorrect. General Anjou made that decision as he was also the one who did the 'good cop' interrogation routine with you."

I snorted, but it came out more like a choke. It was hard to imagine the severe Samurai casually offering me a cigarette. People back at base would never believe that.

Sharpe patted me on the shoulder gently and added.

"I'll tell you in secret – you have really impressed the old man. And you have impressed me, Dubois. Personally, I think you are ready to learn about interrogation techniques. I'm sure you understand now that using them is the last resort."

"Yes sir."

Sharpe helped me get up and gently led me through the corridors. On the way I saw Security Branch agents, still in their TechnoFed uniforms standing at attention. And Sharpe was right – one of them was the old man himself – Brigadier General Edouard Anjou. He looked imposing as usual, despite wearing work clothes and I had trouble connecting this serious veteran with a man who was gently coercing me to betray the Confederacy just a few hours before.

I also recognized the 'TechnoFed' officer who interrogated me and led the firing squad – I was certain that his bald head and goatee would haunt my dreams for weeks to come. He was also standing at attention and he nodded at me approvingly when we passed him.

General Anjou barked a short order and all men saluted crisply. It took me a second to realize that they'd been saluting ME.

Were there any outsiders there it would have looked ridiculous to them: A dirty and smelly prisoner, led by an officer in Security Branch dress blacks, being saluted by men in TechnoFed working uniforms. But to me, at that moment it felt like I was born-again – because I'd survived that hell and because I'd been handed the chance to live another day.

But in the back of my head there was still a fear of torture and pain that had been ingrained in me in the last 36 hours. On an intellectual level I was aware that External Affairs Bureau did such things to their prisoners, but not even in my worst nightmares I could imagine myself as one their victims. Despite my anger at the whole situation and the pain I suffered, I felt that nothing will be the same again for me.

At the time I didn't know, but that was the first time when my brain allowed the thought of hurting other sapient beings for the sake of my goals. The time I spent in the interrogation room, in the iron cage and hanging by my wrists in the cell changed me mentally in many ways.

For weeks to come I would wince when I had to go under the streaming water in the shower room. I had a panic attack once when I got entangled in my uniform t-shirt – It gave me a flashback to the smelly hood they put on my head during my interrogation. For a time I had trouble with dark and confined spaces and with loud, high-pitch noises. I went to therapy of course and in most cases my fears had disappeared. But there remained this dark feeling at the edge of my consciousness, which woke me up at nights as I dreamed of the handcuffs, the freezing water and the beeping metronome.

Would you believe that all this time we've been in Camp Bravo Two? Apparently, when the Security Branch agents knocked me out, they smuggled me into the facility through an underground maglev rail of some sort. I wasn't even surprised that we had such a thing under our base.

My interrogation was a very traumatic experience, but we couldn't afford to slack on my training. I was cleaned up, spent some time in medical and after being cleared for duty I was back on track. Yes, the Security Branch didn't have time to cuddle their freshly minted officer, even if he just went through hell. Another week passed without anything of significance happening. My promotion to Second Lieutenant was confirmed on paper (or rather a holo-tablet document) and I even received a small raise for my troubles. Major Sharpe personally purchased me a new pair of slacks and a brand new shirt, while the rest of my new civilian clothes were returned from the Security Branch deposit.

It was a small gesture, but I appreciated it nonetheless. I also met other officers during the course of my classes and I noticed that all of them treated me with much more respect. Previously I was like the youngest kid in the family – cute but nobody really cared about my opinion. Now I felt like they accepted me as their equal.

Well, one thing of importance happened. On the first night I was back, Patricia visited me in my bunk. We stayed up well into the night and I finally had a chance to talk to someone about it without rank getting in the way. Or at least as much as it couldn't get in the way when talking with your superior after working hours.

Colonel Patricia van Koolwijk entered my room uninvited and without ceremony, sat down on my bed. She looked at me seriously, "I hope you understand that I couldn't have told you about the interrogation, Peter."

I sighed and said as I sat next to her, "That's alright. I didn't expect you would have."

"How are you feeling now?" She was clearly concerned about my well-being. It was nice, but I was still rather squeamish about talking to other people.

Besides, what could I tell her? How could I put in words the horrible spiral of pain, hopelessness and fear that penetrated my brain and my body during the interrogation? There was nothing that I could say that would even remotely explain the internal turmoil that I felt right now. I doubted I'd have the words to explain it, even if I was a professional writer.

"I've been better." I finally muttered.

"We've all been there, Peter." Patricia said quietly, avoiding my eyes.

I looked at her, genuinely surprised.

"Seriously? Female operatives are tested that way too?"

"Yes." She replied curtly. Her hand found mine and squeezed it.

"Female operatives experience a simulated rape." She finally said – her voice was quiet but there was no hesitation in it. "It is a specially programmed data-transfer that creates an illusion of sexual assault. It is administered during the course of forceful interrogation."

"Christ Almighty..." I whispered, not believing what I was hearing. It seemed like the Security Branch was willing to sink to the lowest depths of depravity to provide their operators with a 'learning experience'. It was really sickening and cruel beyond words. How could the people of the Confederacy stand for it? They were doing it to their sons and their daughters, for God's sake!

But Patricia looked at me sharply and her voice was stern.

"Your pity is misplaced, Peter. I was a field operative for a number of years and I was always aware of the risks that my line of work carried. I am a spy – do you think that our enemies will care in the slightest about my virtue should I get caught? I taught you that your body is a weapon, but like all weapons we have in our arsenal it's a double-edged sword. It can be and will be used to break you. Security Branch may seem very severe to you now, but we prepare you for every possibility."

I frowned at that. Was that what I would become after three months of training? A monster capable of committing atrocities like torture, rape or murder? Were we trying to save the Mass Effect galaxy or bring it to its knees? We had to draw the line somewhere, hadn't we?

"And you're alright with what they did to you? Sexual assault... it just seems unnecessary cruel." I said quietly.

"Our enemies, like TechnoFeds ARE unnecessary cruel, Peter. They have faith that what they do is for the betterment of the Multiverse and they believe that the end justifies the means. It's just the way the world of espionage works, Peter. You will be dealing with the worst type of people during the course of your deployment to Sub-verse number 524 and you have to be prepared to do what needs to be done. That includes torture, if that is what it takes to accomplish your mission." She finished ominously.

I remembered what the bearded 'TechnoFed' officer had said to me while I was being interrogated – that Security Branch was using the data-transfer technology to bring me around to their way of thinking. It had seemed plausible at the time and it still looked valid. Whether it was the torture that I experienced or the knowledge transfers that I had – I didn't know, but my mind was much more open to the Bureau's ideas than it was previously.

Of course it could be just a quick lie used during my fake interrogation, but I didn't think it was. Security Branch's training manual stated that lying about facts that could be verified by the subject was strongly discouraged. Truth was a much more potent weapon that you could utilize against other people – you just had to choose carefully which truths you want to reveal to achieve maximum effect. Obviously, I didn't expect the Security Branch to clarify that to me anytime soon.

As usual, my train of thought was ceased by Patricia's ministrations. Apparently she was tired of our conversation already. She leaned in close and murmured in my ear.

"You were very brave today, Peter." Her sultry voice made me shudder.

"Just lie down on your stomach and relax. I'll give you a massage the likes of which you've never experienced before."

I did as I was told, shivering in anticipation. It was frightening how easily this woman could play me, but I didn't really mind. The darker part of my consciousness whispered in my ear.

'You could do the same to a woman. And slit her throat immediately afterwards.' It sounded like my voice but it had a distinct vindictive flavor to it.

I closed my eyes and focused on Patricia's ministrations. I didn't want to think about the monster I was slowly becoming.

She quickly took of my t-shirt and straddled my bottom. Her strong hands expertly massaged away the kinks on my back and shoulders. After the long hours of constant humiliation and pain this massage felt so awesome that simple words couldn't describe it.

As you can easily imagine, there wasn't much serious talking done in the following hours.

All in all, things have returned to normal afterwards – or as normal as they could be. I had put all my heart into the training partially to catch up and partially to forget what happened during my 'forceful' interrogation.

I also managed to finally meet Specialist Salmia Fahri. I admit that I'd completely forgotten that we were supposed to talk, but in my defense the fake kidnapping and subsequent imprisonment really threw me out of the loop. We managed to get together in the mess hall over the weekend. I immediately noticed that she was out of her uniform as she sat there sipping tea.

I sat across the table and ordered my own tea on my wrist-comp. I looked at her with a smile and said hello.

"Good morning, Specialist Fahri. I see you're not in uniform?" I wasn't really scolding her. Security Branch wasn't the army and over the weekends enlisted personnel could do as they pleased.

She wore an elegant dark blue skirt with a jacket to match and a fitting white turtleneck. Her outfit was very business-like.

"Good morning, el-tee." she responded respectfully, but her voice carried a hint of mirth. I guess that the days of the ass-slapping rumor were far from over. To be honest, as time went by I found out that I really didn't mind, even if explaining still felt awkward. And the whole thing was pretty funny.

"So, where are you going today? On a date? Who's the lucky girl?" I decided to tease her a little – it was only fair, after all.

Specialist Fahri blushed at my insinuations and found it difficult to respond, which amused me to no end.

"No, el-tee! It's not like that! I don't even... I don't meet girls like that. If I'd be meeting anybody it would be someone like you. I mean – male, definitely male! I'll just shut up..." she trailed off dejectedly.

I felt sorry for her immediately. She was a damn good soldier and a proper specialist in the field. During the war games it was a pleasure to watch her do her job. She cooperated perfectly with PFC Thomas Binh Trang as they operated our two drone wings and they provided cover for all our sectors at all times – I checked it twice. Unfortunately, she must have been the least social person I think I have ever met in my life. All I did was some harmless teasing and all she could do was to blush like a schoolgirl. For the life of me, I couldn't work out how she had managed to join security branch with a handicap like that. Possibly her mechanical and technical aptitude outweighed her social awkwardness.

"Relax, Specialist. I was only joking around. It's not my business to know where you're going anyway."

She just looked up at me and said.

"No, el-tee – it's okay. I sometimes just get nervous like that. But I'm working on it!" she added quickly.

She sighed and said once more.

"I am going to a party meeting today. Elegant clothes are required, el-tee."

I perked up, suddenly curious.

"Oh, I wasn't aware that the Confederacy had political parties?" Good job Peter, and you spent how many years studying to be a specialist in political science? To be frank, I hadn't even bothered to look deeper into the political system of my new country, apart from the basic data-transfer back in the Interactive Dislocation Department.

"Yes we have, el-tee. I belong to Unionist Labour Interversal and we are a solidarist party. Uhm... I think that back on our Earth our platform would be considered socialist."

I wasn't very fond of socialists or their agenda, but then again – people were entitled to have their own opinions on economic and social issues. Live and let live and all that jazz. On my Earth I'd had a few friends who could be considered lefty, but it didn't make me think any less of them.

Another thing was bugging me though, as I asked Salmia.

"And the Security Branch has no problem at all with you carrying a party card?"

"No, sir. Of course I'm not allowed to share my opinions during working hours." I nodded at that – the 'don't ask, don't tell' policy that Security Branch embraced. "But after the work is done, I'm allowed to do as I please."

I had my previous doubts about the policies of the Security Branch, especially concerning things like relationships between co-workers or political opinions. It just didn't seem feasible to successfully divide things like personal liaisons and the work you were doing with said person – and I knew it was hypocritical of me, seeing as I'd had such a liaison with a woman who was not only my senior, but my superior as well.

On the other hand – it seemed to work for them. I couldn't presume that just because they did things differently than we did them on my Earth, that it meant that my way was superior. In fact, the Confederacy was around much longer than any civilization on Earth, seeing as it was already well established by the time the ancient Chinese built their first empire.

Speaking of our Earth, I was eager to finally find out who Specialist Fahri really was and I asked her about it. She fidgeted a little at that, but she gathered her courage and said.

"I was born in Morocco in 1971, el-tee. My father was a car mechanic in Mansour a small town near Marrakesh. My mother died of influenza when I was very young. I was the only child and my father wanted to pass his company down to me, but there was one problem. In the Morocco in the 1980's no sane man would trust a woman, much less a girl, to repair his car. I didn't have many job options from then on as we weren't important or wealthy enough for my father to put me through a good French-speaking school."

She smiled at her memories and I didn't dare to interrupt.

"My abi was a good man. He always said that if we wanted to be as wealthy and prosperous as the Westerners then we had to educate our children. He wanted to educate me as well, but he simply couldn't afford that."

Salmia Fahri shook her head sadly.

"My consciousness was copied when I was sixteen years old. I was brought by the Interactive Dislocation Department into a different universe. They offered to put me through the Security Branch training regime and have me sign an 8-year contract with the Tactical Squads. Afterwards, the Security Branch would also pay the tuition for the technical university of my own choice. I just couldn't say no to that."

"And what about your father?" I asked gently, thinking about my own family.

"I had nobody apart from my abi and the IDD made sure that he still had the original me with him. I miss him sometimes, but I have my own life now. I had to take my chance, you know el-tee? Back in Morocco I would never be able to afford to go to a proper lycée, let alone a polytechnique. But here? The sky is the limit."

"Do you know what happened to your family?"

She shook her head.

"Of course not, el-tee. The displaced agents are forbidden from contacting their original universe. Haven't your IDD handlers told you that on your induction day?"

I felt my stomach freeze as I answered. I struggled to keep my voice down, but I don't think that Specialist Fahri noticed.

"Sorry, it must have slipped my mind. Of course they told me."

I made a show of checking the time on my wrist-comp and stood up.

"Oh dear I'm afraid that I have to go now, Specialist. Have a good day." I waved at her with a friendly smile.

"Thank you, el-tee and good day to you too!"

I left the mess hall in a hurry.

I'd run out of the building and crossed the parade ground on the double. I had no idea where I was going, but I noticed that I went by one of the obstacle courses for recruits. It was located on the outskirts of Camp Bravo Two and when I reached it I sat down on one of the benches for the military observers. I patted my uniform tunic, looking for the cigarette package that I bought in the Base Exchange. Once I found it I took out one tobacco stick, put it in my mouth and lit it up using my wrist-comp. As I was smoking my cigarette I stared dumbly at the soft synth-paper package. It was a type of article that looked very vintage and very out-of-place on the futuristic Confederacy world.

The brand was called 'Morley's' and it was packed in a red and white soft box which contained 20 cigarettes. I realized that I was smoking more and more tobacco lately. One of the reasons was that the cigarettes calmed my nerves, when I had flashbacks of my interrogation. The other reason was that I no longer had to fear lung cancer as it was easily treatable, so there was no incentive for me to quit smoking. I finished my first tobacco stick in a record time and used the still lit cigarette butt to light another one.

I was very angry. I was well aware that I wouldn't be seeing anyone from my previous life ever again, even if only to talk. Still, I did not expect that Security Branch and the IDD would legally ban me from even checking up on them. I wouldn't argue for visiting days, but just the possibility to take a peek now and then to see how my younger siblings are doing would be sufficient! They certainly couldn't have expected me to completely forget my family just because I was copy-pasted away from my world?

But then again, what could I do about it? Was I supposed to go and file a complaint against my handler in the IDD that she failed to fulfill her duties in informing me about the terms and conditions of my consciousness transfer? Yeah, because pissing off my personal shrink and my handler was that smart. I couldn't go with it to Galtieri or Sharpe, because Security Branch didn't give a flying crap about my family back home – they were interested in me and training me up to their standards. Even if I started a proper shitstorm about it nothing could be done. The Bureau would tell me to go to speak to the IDD and the IDD would just have me running in circles. Bureaucracy was a very convenient hiding spot – it absolved all responsibility from individuals and put it on impersonal executive decisions instead.

Like I previously noted – all agencies, departments and divisions in Multiverse Confederacy consisted of normal people doing (or failing to do, as it was) their jobs. Whether I liked it or not, I was part of this system now. Looking for the people responsible for the most recent failure was like a dog chasing his own tail – it would accomplish absolutely nothing and possibly bite me in the ass in the long run. This was a depressing state of affairs, but it was the one I had to work with.

I finished the second cigarette and got up as I decided that brooding here would do me no good. The die was cast, the river was crossed, the boat had sailed – whatever stupid buzzword you may have wanted to use. There was no going back to my old universe and as Salmia Fahri had said: I had my own life now and I had to take whatever chances I could. It wasn't perfect by any stretch – back at home I would've never had to worry about being tortured or dying – but it was all I had now. I would still miss my home and my old life, but I had to focus on the future.

That was the only way to ensure that I would survive long enough to see my future.

From that moment onwards, I put all my strength into the training. Ever since my mental screening at the IDD facility in Alsmoor I tended to reduce the number of data-transfers during weekends. It helped with calming my nerves immensely and gave me time to recuperate my strength for the week. Despite smaller amounts of knowledge transfers my training still progressed at a satisfactory rate. I managed to pass all my mid-term competence exams – which was a laughable designation, since mid-term meant a month and half to me. I received good marks overall, but cryptography, encoding and radio communications I passed by the skin of my teeth, even with the increased data-transfers on these topics. I could only hope that my life won't depend on them during my deployment to the Mass Effect universe.

I kept seeing Colonel Patricia van Koolwijk on a regular basis and despite our difference in rank and age we managed to strike an easy friendship. I was aware that she was mostly doing it because she was ordered to, but I discovered that I didn't really mind. It seemed like the opportunistic approach that most people in Security Branch had was rubbing off on me. Other than that I didn't have much of a social life – I tended to stay away from Port Helix, remembering how my foray ended last time. It was rather depressing actually, as back on Earth I loved meeting new people and I felt very comfortable talking to them about any topic. I didn't really enjoy sitting and studying in the libraries or staying up late reading, but that's how I spent most of my time here.

On the other hand, I spent much more time doing physical exercises than I'd ever done in my life. Yes, I did occasionally hit a gym or a swimming pool back home, but here I was literally beating my records every day. I was very often too tired to move in the evenings, but I admit that it felt really good.

I also went to visit Dr. Koeckritz in Alsmoor facility once again to have my physical examination. Once it was done I was advised by her that the Consciousness Acquisition team would visit me at Camp Bravo Two to present the results. I was relieved that I would not have to make another trip there, as they got rather tedious and boring after a while.

A few days after my mid-term examinations I was called up to Major Sharpe's office. I took a minute to straighten my uniform and fix my headgear, before I went to meet him.

I entered the office and stood at attention, saluting Major Sharpe sharply. I noticed that he wasn't alone there. Captain Galtieri and the Consciousness Acquisition team were there as well. It seemed that I would be receiving my physical examination results at last.

"At ease, lieutenant," I heard Sharpe say.

I nodded at Galtieri and went to shake hands with the Interactive Dislocation Dept. team, starting with Vassilevskiy who was standing closest to me. It wasn't exactly proper according to the protocol, but I believed that Sharpe wouldn't mind just this once.

After a round of friendly greetings and a pat on the back from Christiansen we all sat down on the provided chairs. Dr. Koeckritz nodded at Vassilevskiy who started. As was his custom he skipped any pleasantries and went straight to the point.

"Lieutenant Dubois, we would like to inform you that your new body has been fully designed and has passed our digital testing. We have done a full computer simulation on the procedure. It turns out that we will not need to do a full consciousness transfer to the new vessel as tweaking your current Beta-Body will be sufficient."

I admit I was relieved to hear that. Despite everything I saw and did so far I was still rather squeamish about being transferred to another vessel. For all I cared, I could happily spend the rest of my days in the body I had now. Even trying to imagine watching another myself on the operating table gave me the chills. There were two of us running around already, and I wasn't keen to add another to the mix. But Vassilevskiy was still talking, his nose almost touching the opened document on his Interius holo-tablet.

"During your mental and physical screening it was determined that your current vessel operates within expected parameters and the biggest issue noted so far was your lack of tolerance for the knowledge transfers. Of course, our greatest concern was the unexpected and unwelcome abuse of the data-transfer procedure, along with the pains you experienced put a great strain on your body and mind."

He looked at Captain with a frown, who in turn raised his chin challengingly. No words were spoken between the two men, but I could see that Vassilevskiy was clearly unhappy with our decision to utilize data transfers as much as we did.

Of course, his dissatisfaction was not caused by any sympathy toward my humble self. After I asked around I learned that quite a few people in the Security Branch remembered Vassilevskiy from the time he spent working in the mafia. Field agents had many stories to tell – each one more improbable than the other – but they all agreed that Vassilevskiy for all his brilliance was a total misanthrope. The geneticist disliked people on principle and I was no exception. But he treated my current body like one of his creations and he considered the abuse it suffered as a personal slight to his work. Imagine a gifted car mechanic who sees the machine he just put together being used in a destruction derby and you might understand how Vassilevskiy felt.

The uncomfortable silence was broken by the smiling Christiansen. The neurologist turned to me and asked.

"Have you noticed any instances of memory loss, Lieutenant Dubois?"

I shook my head.

"No, I can't say I have. Why?"

"Then what is your parents' home address?"

What kind of stupid question was that? I lived in that house for more than twenty years, of course I would remember! We lived in…

I did a double take, because for all that is holy I could not remember the exact address.

I remembered that we had a house with two floors. The outside walls were painted light green, but what was the color of the roof? I thought it was dark green. I was just guessing now. I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my family. My youngest brother - did he have a long or short hair? My siblings used to wear their hair long in the late 2000s as was fashionable back then, but did they cut it later or not?

I tried to remember my friends from the university – we hung out a lot and I passed out drunk more than once at their respective couches. On which side of the Vistula River they lived? Dom was always a proud local patriot, but I couldn't for the life of me say from which part of the city. What was the name of Rob's town? I went there like a hundred times to party or hang out with people. It was one of these 19th century working class towns, built around the local industry. He told me that they suffered a total drainage of youth in the late 20th century, when Poland adopted a capitalist economy. How could its name elude me, when I remembered so much about it? Jesus…

The knowledge that I used to recall at a moment's notice simply wasn't there anymore. I could only remember the small bits and pieces of useless trivia, but nothing really substantial. I felt a sickening feeling in my stomach as I kept shaking my head at my own ignorance.

I opened my eyes and looked around. Galtieri and Sharpe had very serious expressions on their faces. Gillespie looked mildly concerned while Anneke and Vassilevskiy wrote furiously on their holo-tablets. Only Christiansen was looking straight at me with a raised eyebrow, for once without his trademark goofy smile.

"I can't remember my parents' address. I can still recall the people, but all the things that I knew about them are gone. How did this happen? And how did I not notice that?" I asked, hoping against all hope that I didn't sound too desperate.

Christiansen folded his arms over his broad chest and explained.

"There is a very good reason why the data-transfer procedure is as tightly regulated as it is for the civilian population. Of course, as part of the Security Branch you can make your own rules but the reasons remain valid. If you substitute natural learning with a simple copy and paste as you have been doing so far, the brain will not have enough time to properly distribute the data it acquired. If that happens then your brain will take a path of least resistance – it will overwrite the existing neural connections. It will happen unless your brain had been properly conditioned."

The neurologist consulted the notes on his holo-tablet and continued.

"You didn't notice that, because you were unable to feel the loss of data. Imagine it that way – when you forget something it leaves a noticeable empty space in the network which your brain actively tries to fill in by forming new connections and trying to retrieve the knowledge from your subconscious. But if you overwrite the existing data with all subtlety of a bull in the china shop the brain is duped into thinking that everything is a-okay, even when it clearly isn't."

While I respected his extensive knowledge on the subject, I didn't care about the neurologic technobabble in the slightest. The sudden loss of the memories from my previous life felt like a heavy blow. But Christiansen wasn't finished yet.

"Under normal circumstances it wouldn't have happened, because the knowledge transfer technology has built-in safeguards against such occurrences. But in your Beta-Body, which had trouble accepting the data-transfers in general, it created a very fragile mental state and caused the data overwrite and subsequent loss of your less vital memories. Mr. Vassilevskiy and I are certain that once we do the upgrade procedure to your current body this problem will disappear and further knowledge transfers will be safe."

I finally got my act together enough to ask the question that was on my mind.

"What about my memories? Can I get them back? You still have a copy of my original consciousness, right?"

Christiansen glanced at Anneke who turned her Interius holo-tablet toward me and said.

"We have prepared a compiled data package that would be transferred to your brain during the upcoming upgrade procedure to your Beta-Body, which would restore all your previous memories and merge them seamlessly with your current knowledge. It is optional whether you take it or not, of course."

"I want my memories back ASAP. Why wouldn't I take it?" I inquired with a raised eyebrow.

"This memory merger procedure is still a work in progress – it hasn't been tested on live subjects. The theory behind it is sound, but we can't guarantee that it will be successful. It would require us to increase the capacity of your brain just in case. Your original body didn't have in utero upgrades that all Multiverse Confederacy citizens have and for that reason a memory merger might be a shock to the system. We have to ask you, whether you are willing to take that risk."

I looked around the room. Galtieri and Sharpe offered no advice – I think they understood the risks better than I did and left the decision up to me. If the IDD personnel themselves were apprehensive about this procedure, then it meant that the danger it presented greatly exceeded the acceptable risk margins.

But it wasn't really a choice for me – I had to get my memory back. Not because I needed it in my future mission, but because it was something that was solely mine. It did not belong to Confederacy or Security Branch or the IDD, but to me – Peter Dubois, formerly known as Peter ********.

Dr. Koeckritz said best when we first met – it is our memories and experiences that make us the people we are today. Even if there was no way back home, I was determined to retain all the memories I could. And I would do it even if it meant risking my health or well-being.

"I will do it. I will undergo the memory merger, even if it is a risky procedure."

Anneke Koeckritz gave me a long pleading look. I looked her in the eye without any hesitation. I guess she recognized the fact that she wouldn't change my mind as she turned to Gillespie who had his own holo-tablet at the ready.

"Mr. Gillespie, please put on the record that Lieutenant Peter Dubois agreed to undergo the brain upgrade treatment along with subsequent experimental memory merger procedure. Gentlemen, please put your electronic signatures here."

She transferred a document to my wrist-comp. I noticed that both Galtieri and Sharpe received similar documents. Understandable, since they were my direct superiors. I wasted no time as I signed it and sent it back to her. Gillespie pressed a few keys on his holographic keyboard, saving all three copies of the document.

I stood up and shook hands with the Consciousness Acquisition team. When I approached Dr. Koeckritz instead of taking my hand she moved up to me and gave me a brief hug. She smiled hesitantly and said.

"Good luck, Peter."

I nodded at her with a smile, but I didn't say anything. As the IDD personnel filtered out of the room, two enlisted Security Branch soldiers entered the office quietly and took out the extra chairs where the Consciousness Acquisition team had been sitting. They left as swiftly as they entered, without a speaking a single word.

Galtieri relaxed in his chair and looked at me with a lecherous grin.

"So you and Dr. Koeckritz, huh? You are aware that she is married, lieutenant?" I noticed that even Major Sharpe had a smirk on his face.

But I was grateful for their attempt to cheer me up so I responded with a weak smile.

"My relationship with Dr. Koeckritz is strictly professional, captain."

"Of course it is." Said Major Sharpe, but his amused tone of voice belied his words. "Just like with every other female that you meet."

They couldn't honestly believe that? I wasn't some heartbreaking Don Juan from a Brazilian soap-opera. Besides, it was Galtieri who told me that flirting is just another exercise in my espionage training and I accepted it for a fact.

Still, it seemed like the officers were simply teasing me to get me out of my funk regarding my memories debacle, so I decided to keep the ball rolling.

"There is nothing I can do or say that would convince you otherwise, sirs?"

"I'm afraid not, lieutenant." Said Major Sharpe with utmost conviction.

"Nope!" as usual, Galtieri was much less formal.

"Thank you very much, sirs. Permission to leave, Major?"

"Granted." Said Sharpe curtly as he turned to Galtieri and they both activated their holo-tablets.

Recognizing clear dismissal I stood at attention and saluted both men. Sharpe waved me away, already engrossed in an opened document as I left his office.

P.S. Did you take notice of the brand of cigarettes that Dubois is smoking? 'Morley's' appeared in one very popular TV Series and their look was sort of based on Marlboro. If anyone can guess who was smoking 'Morley's' and which TV show was that you will get an Internet cookie. I admit, it is a pretty obscure reference. ;)

A/N: So there it is, Chapter 6. Dubois didn't die and he will be going to Mass Effect galaxy very soon. In fact, he already is there, because I have a few updates written in advance. What's he going to do there?

Well, you will have to stay tuned for the second part of Chapter 6!

Have a good one!