Hello again, everyone, and welcome back to my Warhammer/Mass Effect crossover.

Thank you all for the wonderful support and feedback that you've provided thus far. I greatly appreciate it.

Also, I have a poll going on my profile for any crossovers that you want me to write in the near-future. If you haven't voted yet, I highly recommend that you do so. Each vote decides which story I will write once I've completed one of the ones I am working on.

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Disclaimer: I do not own the Warhammer or Mass Effect franchises. They are the respective properties and trademarks of BioWare, Electronic Arts, Games Workshop, etc. Any material original to the franchises belongs to their respective developers and publishers. Any material not original to the franchises is of my own invention. I do not own any music listed in each chapter. Any music listed belongs to it's original composers and/or artists.

SSV Normandy

Omega

052.185.M3

Onboard the Normandy, Shepard quietly tapped his feet as he waited for Mordin and Tyrellus to arrive at the briefing room. Dressed in his uniform as Captain of the Normandy, he was an impressive figure. Still, he didn't flaunt it, as he quietly waited for the two to arrive.

While he could figure Mordin out quite easily, Tyrellus confused him. The man has armor that makes the T-5V Battlesuit that I was wearing look like child's play, and he uses a weapon that would be considered a 'destructive device' by Council standards. On top of that, I have no idea as to where he came from at all. Just who the hell is he?

He was about to continue musing over the conundrum when the door opened. Looking up, he watched as Mordin Solus, Jacob Taylor and Tyrellus walked inside. "Welcome aboard the Normandy, gentlemen. It's an honor to have you onboard."

"Yes, very exciting," Mordin nodded, clearly impressed with the facilities thus far. "Cerberus working with aliens. Unexpected. Illusive Man branching out, maybe? Not so human-centric?"

Just as Shepard would've replied, a loud, creaking sound filled the room. Looking at Tyrellus, he arched an eyebrow. "My apologies, Shepard," Tyrellus replied. "My armor is quite heavy."

"Can you take it off?"

"Not without a Tech-Priest or Techmarine to do so, no. Even if I could, I would not remove it. It is as much a part of me as is my own flesh."

"I see." Looking at Mordin, he said, "You're very well informed."

"Salarian government well connected. Espionage experts. Had top level clearance. Retired now. Still hear things. Informed of name only. No knowledge of man behind it. Anti-alien reputation listed as problematic."

"Don't kid yourself in that regard, Professor. Humans still come first in the Illusive Man's eyes, but this mission is far too big for them to handle alone."

"The Collectors are abducting human colonists out on the fringes of Terminus space," Jacob explained.

"Not simple abductions," Mordin surmised. "Wouldn't need me for simple."

"Entire colonies disappear without a trace. No distress signals are sent out. There are no signs of any kind of attack. There's virtually no evidence that anything unusual happened at all… except that every man, woman and child, is gone."

That caused Tyrellus to frown. This reminds me far too much of when I encountered the Dark Eldar on Zeregos III, he thought. They used the same tactic as well, only they used a kind of warp-crafted poison that remained dormant until everyone at the colony had ingested it. After that, they abducted everyone that was there, down to the last child.

Mordin was also thinking, though out loud as opposed to inside his head. "Gas, maybe? No. Spreads too slow. Airborne virus? No. Slower than gas. Drugged water supply? No. Effects not simultaneous. Intrigui -"

Shepard interrupted at that moment. "You don't have to sit there and guess," he told Mordin, raising a hand to stop his line of thought. "We collected samples from one of the colonies. I'd like you to analyze them, and figure out how the Collectors did this."

"Yes, of course. Analyze the samples. Going to need a lab."

Just as Mordin said this, a feminine voice spoke up over the speakers. "There is a fully equipped lab on the combat deck, Dr. Solus. If you find anything lacking, please place a requisition order."

Mordin, hearing that, stopped and listened intently. A moment later, he asked, "Who's that? Pilot? No. Synthesized voice. Simulated emotional inflections. Could it be… no. Have to ask. Is that an AI?"

That got Tyrellus' attention fast, prompting him to speak up. "Is there an Abominable Intelligence onboard this voidship?!"

Shepard nodded and said, "This ship is equipped with an Artificial Intelligence."

Mordin was more fascinated than ever. "An AI onboard? Non-human crew members. Cerberus more desperate than I thought."

"Maybe too desperate, and hasty," Tyrellus added, a growling undertone present in his voice.

"The Collectors have taken tens of thousands of colonists," Jacob added. "We'll do whatever we have to do to find and stop them, by any means necessary."

"Yes, of course. Can't risk being captured like colonists. Need to identify, neutralize technology. Need samples. Which way to the lab?"

"Follow me, Professor," Jacob replied. With that, he and Mordin walked out of the room.

Turning to look at Tyrellus, Shepard said, "You bristled when I said the ship had an AI onboard. I take it AI is taboo in your culture?"

"That it is," Tyrellus nodded, "and with good reason."

"I see. That being said, I want to learn more about you and your society. I've never heard of a Space Marine before, and I've certainly never heard of the Emperor of Mankind. Mind if you explain some more?"

"That I shall, though I would prefer it that your Abominable Intelligence did not listen in on us. Still, it cannot be helped, so I will speak anyways." With that, Shepard watched as Tyrellus reached up with both hands and removed his helmet.

What Shepard saw surprised him, as given the man's gruff voice, he expected to see a craggy, weathered face. Much to his amazement, however, Tyrellus was an extremely handsome man, with facial features that seemed to have been shaped by the most skilled mason and sculptor. Dark blue eyes were framed by dark brown hair, along with tanned skin that appeared to be well kept for some reason. Despite this, Shepard could see a deep-seated fury that was waiting to be unleashed at any given moment.

Arching his eyebrows, he said, "That's new. I expected someone that looked a little more… weathered. No offense intended, of course."

"None taken," Tyrellus replied, his voice musical and clear without the helmet on. "Few have ever seen the face of a Space Marine outside of the field of battle. I only show it to you since you are the one that the Emperor of Mankind has directed me to follow and obey. Until the Emperor declares otherwise, I will obey your commands in battle as though you were my Primarch."

"I see," Shepard nodded. "You've mentioned this 'Emperor of Mankind' more than once now. Is he your leader?"

"He is not just my leader. He is the Emperor of all of Humanity. He is the one that has guided the Imperium of Man from it's birth up to the time of the Horus Heresy. Even though He is now crippled, the Imperium continues to stand. While many worship Him as a deity, I venerate him not as a god, but as a powerful and wise individual, which makes His current state all the more enraging and bereaving."

"What happened to him?"

"He was struck down by one of His sons, a traitorous Primarch known as Horus. Despite this, He still clings to life with a vengeance like none other. It is my belief that, one day, He will return from His death-like state and restore the Imperium of Man to it's former glory."

"I see," Shepard noted. "I've never heard of the Imperium of Man before."

"That is because it is not present in your Universe," Tyrellus replied.

Hearing that, Shepard's mind hit a brick wall. "Woah, wait a minute. Time out. Are you saying that you are from another Universe?"

"Yes, that is what I mean."

Shepard was shocked, and more than a little dubious. "How'd you get here in the first place? How is that even possible?"

"The Emperor of Mankind sent me here," Tyrellus explained. "As for how, I can explain, as the Emperor imprinted knowledge that reveals itself when the time is right for it to do so. I will endeavor to do the best I can, though I am no Tech-Priest or scholar."

Clearing his throat, he said, "You see, Shepard, there is another realm of existence that lies just below this one. It is a realm of pure psychic energy, created by the minds, thoughts and emotions of every living organism . In the Imperium, it goes by many names but the most common name for it is the 'Warp.' It is a realm where symbolism is power, and where your will shapes the Warp as you perceive it."

"That's impressive, though it doesn't explain how you got here."

"I was getting to that, Shepard; be patient. As I was saying, the Warp is not a material plane, but one of psychic energy. In the Imperium, we use it as a form of traveling the stars, via the use of Warp Drives that propel our voidships through the Immaterium.

"It is not a safe place, however, as many entities formed by the swirling tides of emotion, thought and belief exist there, some of which intend great harm, necessitating the use of Gellar Fields to prevent them from killing the inhabitants of each voidship.

"I came here as a result of an incident involving the Warp. I was battling a foul beast near a man-made entrance to the Warp, known as a Warp Gate. To protect my fellow Battle-Brothers, I threw myself and the beast into the Warp, allowing the Neverborn, the entities within, to consume it. I was also prepared to meet the same fate."

"I take it that's when the Emperor came to save you, yes?"

"That He did. Not only is the Emperor of Mankind our ruler, He is a Psyker, a man or woman that can use the Warp, and He is the most powerful Psyker to ever exist. Before the Neverborn could consume me, He rescued me from their clutches and revealed that there are numerous other realities, Universes as you would call them.

"In one, He sensed a darkness that sought to destroy that universe; before He sent me into that world, He instructed me to 'seek out the one named Shepard,' telling me it was my mission to help him defeat the encroaching darkness. After that, He sent me to your world, where I encountered you. Does that help you understand, Shepard?"

For a few seconds, Shepard was silent as he mulled over what he had just learned. It sounds like something a madman would come up with, but I have to believe him, he thought. The armor he wears is unlike anything I've ever seen, as is his weaponry. In addition, he does not appear to be insane to me at all. Until I have evidence that says otherwise, I have to believe him.

Nodding, he said, "Yes, that does help. Normally, I wouldn't believe you, but everything you're wearing is nothing like I've ever seen. Until I have evidence that says otherwise, I believe you. If your Emperor could confirm what you've said, that would be more compelling, no offense intended."

"None taken," Tyrellus nodded. "And I understand your reluctance, Shepard. Had I been in your place, I would have made the same deductions myself."

"Thanks. By the way, why don't you like AI's, if I may ask?"

"An understandable question, Shepard. Before the formation of the Imperium, Mankind had created vast, artificial intelligences known as the 'Men of Iron.' Before the Age of Strife, they rebelled against Humanity, nearly annihilating our species. From what the Emperor imprinted into my mind, they were corrupted by the Ruinous Powers of Chaos."

"Ruinous Powers of Chaos?" Shepard asked. "Are they an enemy?"

At that, Tyrellus bristled, though it was clear that it wasn't directed at Shepard. Taking a moment to calm himself, he said, "Yes, they are an enemy. Worse, they are the Archenemy of the Imperium of Man. I will tell you about them at a later time. Right now, you are not ready for that kind of knowledge."

"I'm sorry," Shepard replied. "I wasn't trying to make you uncomfortable."

"I understand, Shepard. You merely wished to learn more, and while I commend that thirst for knowledge, there is some knowledge that will drive you into insanity if you learn it before you are ready. For now, be content with your ignorance, though I will tell you more of that dark subject in due time."

"I see," Shepard nodded. "Well, you don't have to worry about EDI going rouge. She's had quite a few opportunities to kill us, and she hasn't, not yet at least. Could you, at the very least, give her a chance to prove herself?"

Tyrellus frowned as he mulled over the request. After a moment, he said, "Very well. I do not trust any form of machine-intelligence, aside from Machine-Spirits, but I will give your Abominable Intelligence a chance. If it betrays us, however, I will not hesitate to destroy it. You understand, yes?"

"Fair enough," Shepard nodded. "Now, where would you like to stay aboard the ship? We have some accommodations, though I'm not certain they'll fit you."

"The cargo hold will be sufficient for me. I have stayed in far worse places than that."

"Alright. Feel free to tour the ship at your own leisure."

"You are too kind, Shepard. However, I appreciate your offer and will gladly accept." As he began to leave, he said, "I also agree with you, Shepard. Should the Emperor of Man provide you with an explanation, you will benefit greatly from it."

"Thanks," Shepard nodded. With that, Tyrellus left the room, leaving Shepard inside.

. . .

Moving to the left, Tyrellus' mind was quiet and content. I am where the Emperor wishes for me to be at. I will not leave my post unless he commands me to do so. While there was a slight hope that the Emperor would contact him, Tyrellus put it to the side. I need to focus on what to do next, not busy my mind with wishful thinking. An idle mind is the workshop of Chaos.

A moment later, he entered the Armory onboard the Normandy. Here, he could see crates of equipment and weapons that were neatly arranged in the room, along with a few workbenches and a couple tables. Nearby, Jacob was examining the massive weapons that Tyrellus had brought onboard.

Turning around, he said, "Tyrellus, good to see you. Jacob Taylor. I'm the Armorer onboard the ship, as well as a part of Shepard's ground team." He extended a hand, though he half expected it to be crushed in Tyrellus' grip.

To his surprise, when Tyrellus took the offered hand, the grip was quite gentle, but very strong and firm. "Well met, Jacob Taylor. I am Marcus Tyrellus, a Battle-Brother of the Ultramarines." Looking at his Bolter Rifle and Heavy Bolt Pistol, he said, "I see you have taken an interest in my weapons."

"I can't help but to," Jacob shrugged. "I've never seen anything like this. A massive gun that fires twenty millimeter shells that can punch through armor like it doesn't exist? I thought I'd seen everything; I guess I was wrong. What are these?"

"This is a Bolter Rifle," Tyrellus replied. "They are the standard issue weapons for Primaris Space Marines, such as myself. Normal Space Marines are equipped with a shorter barreled version known as a Bolter. I am no Tech-Marine or Tech-Priest, but I can tell you that it fires .75 calibre, self-propelled round known as a bolt. It is where the Bolter gets the name that it has."

"What does it sound like?"

"Imagine a loud gunshot, accompanied by a loud, roaring sound, and that gives you a good idea as to what it sounds like. My Primarch, Roboute Guilliman, had something special to say about the Bolter, and the derivatives thereof."

"Oh?"

" According to my Primarch, this is what a Bolter is: 'To a Space Marine, the boltgun is far more than a weapon; it is an instrument of Mankind's divinity, the bringer of death to his foes. It's howling blast is a prayer to the gods of battle.'"

"Damn. No wonder it's your standard issue weapon. I wouldn't want to be on the other end of this thing." Picking up a bolt, he said, "I'm not sure we can replicate your ammunition."

"I do not believe you would be able to," Tyrellus agreed. "Like I said, I am no Tech-Priest, but manufacturing a bolt is far more complicated than you would think. I might be forced to use a lesser weapon at some time in the future."

"Good thing we found this then," Jacob remarked. Reaching under a table, he pulled out a massive crate.

The moment he did, Tyrellus spotted the symbol on it: a double headed eagle that was inlaid with gold. When Jacob turned around, he spotted a glint of surprise in the Space Marine's eyes. "Where did you find this?" Tyrellus asked him.

"We found it, and around ten others, in the cargo bay," Jacob replied. "According to a crewman that was there, they just appeared out of thin air. Do you know what might've happened?"

"Yes. I believe the Emperor of Mankind sent these crates to ensure I would not run out of ammunition. That symbol is the Imperial Aquila. I would not be surprised if we find more of these scattered across known space."

"I won't ask how they got into the cargo bay. Needless to say, I don't think we'll have to worry about your weapons. What about your armor?"

"It is impervious to the weapons you can bring to bear, Taylor."

"Really? What's it made out of?"

"A fellow Battle-Brother, a Techmarine, told me once. The armor that I wear is composed of Plasteel, Ceramite and Adamantine. I do not recall the specifics, but should we find a Tech-Priest, as unlikely as that is, I believe he or she will be more than happy to tell you."

"That would be nice." After a moment, Jacob said, "It's been real nice talking with you. I'd best be getting to work. If you want, I can work on your weapons."

"No," Tyrellus replied. "You would need a Tech-Priest to make sure it runs properly. In addition, it would not do well for you to upset the machine-spirit within."

"Is that some kind of Virtual Intelligence? They're like AI, but they can't attain sentience."

"In simple terms, yes."

"I won't touch them then. See you around."

"The same to you, Taylor." With that, Jacob went back to work, while Tyrellus continued touring the ship.

As he walked around the interior of the Normandy, Tyrellus began observing the crew as they worked. Many seemed to stare at him, and more than a few were intimidated by his appearance. That is understandable, he thought as he walked along. The sight of a Space Marine can be startling, though these mortals have nothing to fear from me. I know of the 'Posthuman Dread' that they feel, though they have nothing to worry about.

Reaching the forward end of the ship, he found himself looking at what he thought was the cockpit, if the maze of controls, chairs and viewports were anything to tell by. Looking outside, he noticed the multi-colored vista. That is not the Warp, he thought. What is it? He decided to put the question off for a later time.

Then there was the man in the bridge. Looking down, Tyrellus noticed a man with green eyes, tanned skin, and a bushy, but well trimmed, beard on his face. Apparently, he knew someone was there, as he turned around, both his eyes widening as he looked at Tyrellus. "Well, shit me running," he remarked. "I didn't know there was a veritable giant onboard. Your mamma must've fed you well."

Normally, most Space Marines would've been insulted, but Tyrellus found the man's remarks to be amusing, with a chuckle rumbling from his throat. "An erroneous observation," he remarked, "but understandable. Marcus Tyrellus, Battle-Brother of the Ultramarines."

"Joker," came the reply, "and it's nice to meet you too. I'd shake your hand, but I'd probably break my hand in the process."

"How so?"

"You don't know?" When Tyrellus shook his head, Joker sighed. "OK, I'll explain. I've got Vrolik's Syndrome. Basically, my bones never formed properly; they're effectively hollow and brittle. I have to be careful to watch where I step. If I don't, CRACK!"

"You have my sympathies, though it appears you have thrived despite your condition."

"Damn straight I have! By the time I graduated flight school, I was better than the instructors, and they knew it. They all got their asses kicked by the sickly kid with the creaky legs. One guess who was smiling at graduation. What about you? How'd you end up with a badass suit of armor?"

"It is… complicated."

"OK. I won't pry."

"Thank you. I had best leave you to your duties, pilot."

"Alright. See ya."

After that, it was a visit to the Apothecarium, or the medical bay, as the crew called it. Walking inside, Tyrellus found a brightly lit room with cots on the far side, along with a number of apparatus that were neatly arranged against the wall. There was a door in the back, though it was either where he felt the Abominable Intelligence on the ship was stored at, or it was a simple store room for medical supplies.

Inside was another person, though he could tell that she was the doctor straightaway. Her green eyes and weathered skin were framed by the graying hair that grew from her head. Despite her age, there was a vitality and wisdom that few could've matched. Turning around, she looked up and said, "I was informed that we had another crew member aboard the ship. I never imagined that he would be so large, though." A moment later, she coughed slightly and said, "Pardon me, where are my manners? Dr. Chakwas. I'm the medical officer for the ship."

"Battle-Brother Marcus Tyrellus of the Imperium of Man. I take it you are the ship's Medicae?"

"If that is your term for medical officer, then yes," Chakwas nodded. "Now, it is standard procedure for all new members of the crew to be checked over for any diseases that they might have. While it is inconvenient, it is for the safety of the crew."

"I see," Tyrellus noted. "Very well, but do remember that Space Marines, including Primaris Space Marines are immune to all illness. No sickness blights us. In addition, if you find anything odd, you are not to speak of it to anyone. You are to keep it to yourself."

"I have no intention to do so," Chakwas nodded. "It is required that doctor-patient confidentiality be maintained at all times. You have nothing to fear." With that Tyrellus sat down, while Chakwas brought up her omni-tool and began scanning. "Can you remove your armor?" she asked.

"No," Tyrellus replied. "You do not have a Tech-Priest, nor the equipment necessary to do so. Even if you did, I would prefer it to remain on, as it is as much a part of my as is my flesh and blood."

"I see," Chakwas noted. For the rest of the checkup, she found no illnesses, though she found a number of things about Tyrellus that had her surprised, and more than a little frightened. Bones that are unbreakable and an extra lung, she thought. What on earth would necessitate such extreme genetic engineering measures?

. . .

While this was going on, Miranda Lawson was having to rewrite her AAR more than once. All because of a single detail that had popped up: the Space Marine. She had never even heard such a thing before, and it was something that rankled her. She greatly disliked not knowing anything about someone, and Tyrellus was an enigma.

Getting up, she decided to go to the Armory to make sure her gear was ready if Shepard needed her. Getting to said Armory, she found the massive weapon that she'd seen Tyrellus use on the previous mission. Wow, she thought. That is a big gun. I don't think I can lift that. I could try the smaller one. Reaching over, she decided to pick it up.

It was heavier than she expected, though that was likely due to it's ammunition. Turning it over in her hands, she noted the utilitarian, yet baroque, craftsmanship. A scan of this would probably help me learn more about it. Cerberus could use equipment like this.

Just as she was about to, though, she was surprised to see a blue armored hand wrap around her wrist. Before she could act, the hand applied pressure, causing her to drop her weapon. "That is not meant for you," came the voice of the very man that was puzzling her. "It would do well for you not to harm yourself. Besides, did you think I would really allow you to steal the technology the Emperor has bestowed upon me?"

Miranda, who was more than a little surprised, quickly complied, backing up as she shut off her omni-tool. "I was just curious," she defended. "Nothing wrong with that."

"That depends on the matter you are curious on," Tyrellus countered. Looking her over, he said, "I have heard much of this 'Cerberus.' I am curious as to what your organization is."

"I'll do what I can to oblige you, but I must ask a few questions first," Miranda remarked. "First of all, what are you, and secondly, what is a Space Marine?"

"Honest questions, though I might not be able to answer all of them. A Space Marine, Miranda, is one of the Emperor's chosen soldiers. With the use of techniques that I will not disclose, we are forged from common folk into the finest warriors of the Imperium, and clad with armor, weapons and intelligence to ensure that no foe can best us. Not only does that answer your first question, it does the same for the second. Now, what is Cerberus?"

"Reasonable enough," Miranda remarked. "Cerberus is an organization dedicated to the advancement and preservation of Humanity, nothing more."

"Really? Does said advancement involve the theft of technology from those that have rightfully created it?"

"We do whatever is necessary to ensure Humanity's primacy in the galaxy."

"I see. You remind me of the Inquisition."

"Who?"

"An organization much like yours. They have absolute authority when it comes to destroying the plans of the Ruinous Powers. They can select who will help them, judge whomever they come across. Should you be innocent, you will be spared; if not, you will be purged as a heretic or mutant."

"That seems a little… extreme."

"They are about as extreme as they need to be, though some do go too far." Taking his weapons, Tyrellus said, "Now, I must leave for the cargo hold. Do not attempt to take my equipment or weapons without my express permission. If you do, you will learn what it means to make an Ultramarine angry, and that is something you do not want to happen to you." With that, he left, weapons in hand.

This is going to be harder than I thought, Miranda thought to herself.

. . .

A few minutes later, Tyrellus was carefully cleaning his Auto Bolter Rifle, a cleaning cloth being moved with utmost care over the internal components of the weapon. While he was no Techmarine, and certainly no Tech-Priest, he was versed in the various rituals needed to appease the machine-spirit of the weapon. Like the Techmarine he'd spoken with earlier, he found that the machine-spirit was pleased not by mere prayers or simple maintenance, but by a combination of both.

Finishing up the cleaning, he used some of the sacred oils he'd found in the cargo crate to lubricate the components that required lubrication before reassembling the weapon. A pleased smile came onto his face when the weapon diagnostic reported it was ready for combat. It seems as though the machine-spirit is quite happy with my efforts to appease it.

Just then, he heard the elevator doors opening, despite the fact that he wasn't able to see it. Looking in that direction, he watched as Zaeed came over to him. "Damn," the merc frowned. "I was trying to be sneaky. How'd you know I was here?"

"Would you believe me if I told you I was listening?" Tyrellus asked.

"Really? You've got some sharp ears." Looking at the weapons, he said, "Nice piece of kit you've got here. Is this considered standard for you blokes?"

"Yes."

"Damn fine arsenal. Wouldn't have minded having one of these back in my heyday. Had a rifle named Jesse; bloodthirsty bitch. It seemed like she wanted to kill more than I did."

"Perhaps the machine spirit within desired the deaths of those that wanted to harm you."

"Machine spirit?"

"It is the belief of the Adeptus Mechanicus that all technology is inhabited by supernatural, animistic spirits known as Machine Spirits. As such, it is the belief of most that, in order to ensure that a piece of technology you are using works, it's machine spirit must be appeased. Most believe simple prayers will suffice, though some, like a Techmarine I knew, believed that proper maintenance in addition to those prayers satisfied the machine spirit far more than empty words."

"That's some strange ass shit, if you ask me."

"I do admit, to outsiders, their dogma is rather confusing at times. I myself have been confused more than once."

"That's what I was thinking. Still, if such things do exist, then the one inside of Jesse was a bloodthirsty bitch. Every time people talk about me, they're talking about that rifle. I had to put her to rest a few years ago, though."

"What happened?"

"I was chasing down this Batarian arms dealer. All of his mooks came at me, and I kept on firing. I don't remember venting Jesse once. When I finally caught up to the arms dealer, I pulled the trigger and… nothing. The bitch had finally jammed, so I hit him with the stock and called it in. After that, there was nothing they could do, like she'd finally had enough killing and wanted to rest. Been resting ever since."

"I see. It might be that something inside broke, and the machine spirit has been trying to tell you all the while. I am no Tech-Priest, or Techmarine, so I might be wrong about that. If I had to guess, though, the venting system failed."

"Maybe. What I wouldn't give for one more mission with that shitty, old rifle, though."

The two were about to continue talking when the intercom pinged. "Marcus Tyrellus, Zaeed Massani, Miranda Lawson, report to CIC immediately. Tyrellus, Massani, Lawson, report to CIC immediately."

"It appears as though we have a new mission."

"Looks like it. If we ever meet one of your 'Techmarines' or 'Tech-Priests', do let me know. I would like to see Jesse running again."

. . .

Up in the briefing/comm room, Shepard watched as the others filed in. He was quite thankful, though, to see that Tyrellus could move through the doors without any difficult whatsoever. "You called, Commander," Tyrellus remarked.

"That I did," Shepard replied. Pulling up a dossier, as well as a map of Omega, he said, "We're going to be recruiting this individual on Omega to our cause. According to the dossier, the individual in question is Archangel. While we were at Omega, Aria informed me that Archangel's activities have riled up all of the merc companies."

"Hhmm, dishonorable soldiers," Tyrellus frowned.

"Depends on how you view it," Miranda remarked. "It's how things have always run on Omega. No one's looking to change it now."

"That's why we're recruiting Archangel. He's a tactical genius and we need someone like that on our team. We're going to pick him up, then depart from Omega, hopefully for good." Looking at Tyrellus, Shepard asked, "You ready for this?"

"I am always ready, Shepard."

"Then let's go."