Nos Astra, Illium, Tasale System, 2185
Shepard had always despised elevators. Always slow and awkward, they were never anything but irritating.
Now was no different. Right next to her was Six, standing nonchalant. The air was tense, Shepard nor Tali not knowing what to say about what they had borne witness to earlier. It was not unlike the shuttle ride from Haestrom, awe inspired silence domineering the atmosphere.
He had butchered an entire company of asari under the cover of darkness, the black void being imposed by what appeared to be his will and nothing else.
He had not displayed any discomfort or tenseness whatsoever. Even after being shot, he'd simply shrugged it off.
Shepard couldn't take the damn silence any longer, and spoke up.
"Six?"
He answered, preceded by a few moments of quiet.
"Yes Ma'am?"
Shepard glanced at his gauntlets, completely soaked in purple blood. Still wet, slowly dripping onto the floor.
She chose to be straight forward. "That wound alright? Seemed to be leaking pretty bad earlier."
Six had almost forgotten about it at this point, looking down at the faint ghost of a tear in the undersuit.
"It is fine." He answered evenly. His taciturn demeanor continued to perplex Shepard, never knowing an individual so averse to talking.
Even Jack was willing to converse with her, albeit for short periods of time. The tattooed woman had a rather short, and easily lit fuze.
Six on the other hand, treated words like poison, talking almost only when strictly necessary or questioned.
The doors opened, the squad stepping out into the port.
A few moments later and they stepped into detective Anayas office. Said detective sat at her desk, her anxious expression lessened upon seeing Shepard return.
"We got the name of the ship. You're quarry left here two days ago, on the AML Demeter." Shepard said to the Justicar, who was seated upon a window will, legs crossed.
Max could not help but be for the one of the few times in his life, mesmerized.
A powerful swirl of blue energy veiled her form, eyes encapsulated in a beaming white flare. She appeared a being of unparalleled power and grace. Her very face radiated wisdom, and soon after, a warm smile at Shepards words as the whirl of energy slowly dissipated.
"You impress me, Shepard. You've upheld your word, and I shall uphold mine." Spoke the Justicar. She gracefully stepped down, turning her gaze to the detective.
"I am ready to leave immediately, if that will satisfy you're superiors, detective." Said Samara, giving a slight nod of the head.
"Of course, it's been an honor having you in my station, Justicar." Replied Anaya, clearly glad to soon be relieved of her presence.
"The eclipse smuggled an Ardat-Yakshi off world, I take it that she's who you're really after, isn't she?" Shepard inquired to Samara. She had been able to glean some knowledge from the various logs left behind in the eclipse bass.
"You continue to impress. Yes, she is who I seek. She is very dangerous, and I shall bring her to justice. After your mission is complete, of course." The asari answered firmly.
"The Normandy is docked near the trading port, you can come with us, or meet us there." Shepard offered.
"There is one formality I must observe, first. I must be sworn to your service so that I am never forced to choose between your orders, and the code."
She kneeled before Shepard and bowed her head, closing her eyes.
There was silence for a moment, the awkward quiet causing them to uncomfortably look around before the Justicar finally spoke.
"By the code I shall serve you Shepard. Your choices are my choices, your morals, are my morals. Your wishes, are my code."
With that she stood.
Max tuned out the exchange of words that followed thereafter, replaying what he had just witnessed in his head. Such an oath was something he had never heard, such words being alien as the being that spoke them.
From what he he remembered these beings could live for a millennia. Just how old was this one, he wondered.
A parting farewell to the detective and they left, heading to where they first arrived at the port. Shepard flagged down a cab after a short while, and turned to speak to the team.
"All four of us won't fit, so we'll go in pairs."
Max quietly sighed, remembering the cramped automated vehicles being
Tali, ever the anxious, awkward young woman, chose familiarity and sat down with Shepard right after her.
Realizing who that left it was Shepard's turn to be anxious, and before she could further worry the doors closed, the vehicle soaring into the sky.
Max sighed again in further disappointment, not knowing what to do now.
"I trust the eclipse weren't too much trouble?" The asari to his side asked smoothly.
The Spartan had experienced tougher battles, and a lifetimes worth of them.
His answer was easy. "They weren't."
A small hum came from her. "The blood on your arms suggests otherwise." She commented in a clement tone, inquisitiveness lacing her words.
"They were unorganized and poorly disciplined." Was his response, as Samara flagged down a second cab.
"A correct assessment, but I'd argue such chaotic combatants bring their own unique challenge." Samara said as the sky car arrived.
Max made a sound of rough agreement, sitting down in the cramped space. Samara sat down next to him, her poised sense of self most curious to the Spartan.
Most always were put off by his presence. Most tried to hide it too, but failed. To see this humanoid be so lax and calm near him was foreign.
Max found it peaceful, her tranquil energy a soothing influence. Both of them watched the sky pass on in comfortable silence, appreciating the beautiful sunset as it slipped away, the bright sheen dimming under the clouds.
As light slowly turned to dark, Max reflected on the days events. Quite a lot had occurred.
He thought on how strange it all was. When he played back everything in his mind, it made no sense. Yet it had happened all the same. His first day on this planet and he had slaughtered many. A mere few hours after meeting a new species, he had begun butchering them.
But he did not hate them. When he had fought before, he had fought with malice. Every breath taken was poisoned, tainted by hatred choked air. It soaked into the blood of all that fought in such a horrifying reality.
Humanities struggle against the Covenant was different then any other. They fought not for resources. Not territory, nor the imposition of ideology.
It was not fought out of pettiness, not the bickering of old men in opposing lands. For the first time in man's existence, war was not waged between themselves.
An entity hell bent on their complete annihilation, down to the last man, woman and child. That was their enemy. Such venomous, intimate wrath was the only logical response to a foe such as them. And so Max had hated them. Raged against them, for all that they had taken, and all that he had lost.
He no longer had such purpose. It felt so damnably foreign. To not deeply resent his enemy so much that it felt euphoric to crush them.
Deep down in the roots of his soul it depressed him. His detestation soon turned inward. Disgust at himself, for somehow missing such misery. He felt lost without it, he realized.
There was nothing for him to hate anymore. Only himself.
"Penny for your thoughts?" Kimbra asked softly. His change in mood had not gone unnoticed, it seemed.
Max would not admit it, but he felt a smidgen of gratitude towards her. Her presence meant he was not completely alone. She often annoyed him, yes, but he knew that was just as much his own fault as hers.
She cared about him. Something that defied all reason. He could not find any qualities about himself that would warrant such a thing.
"They do not matter." Was his response.
"That's not true, and I think you know that." She asserted boldly.
"Come on." She pushed, almost pleadingly. "Just give me something? I'm bored."
Max took a deep breath. If Kimbra wanted his thoughts, she would have them.
"I have no place here."
"Don't you?" She responded simply.
"This world is not the same. Before, I always knew what lay ahead. There was a purpose. It no longer remains."
Before Kimbra could retort, a third voice entered the conversation unknowingly.
"So, what is your name?" Samara asked to his left.
Max turned to look at her. She was a prime example of what he had meant. He did not converse with aliens, he slew them. Max did not feel calm around them, he felt rage at the sight of them. Though here he was, doing things he did not do.
"Six." He said slowly, hiding his inner unease.
The serene being held out her hand, smiling. The Spartan looked at it, further befuddled now. Never would he have guessed such a predicament would befall him.
But even he held pride. He refused to let his own apprehension stop him from adapting, strange as it all was. Of all things in the universe, Max would not be conquered by his own misgivings.
His hand encompassed hers, giving a light squeeze. It was so strange how her hand felt no different than a humans, Max thought as she spoke once more.
"I am Samara, it is nice to meet you, Six. In truth, I know little about you're species. Is there anything important I should know?" She asked with a glint of genuine interest.
"No." Was her simple answer.
The alien must have sensed his desire for silence and relented, watching the skyline until they landed.
Stepping out, they saw Shepard and Tali waiting close by. Max noticed the relief plastered on the commanders face upon seeing Samara, unharmed.
Given what had transpired earlier, Max could not blame Shepard for her worries. He'd have felt the same in her shoes.
The look of disbelief Max received from her in the eclipse base stuck with him. It was reminiscent of the past, appearing a savage beast to his allies, inhumanely capable and separate from them.
It made Max nostalgic, in a strange sort of way. A longing for a different time, missing its familiarity.
Once all together again they made for the Normandy, the courtyards and markets they passed through holding a much different aura. It was less crowded then before, though a few still remained. The sun was gone, yet it was not dark. Nearly everything was lit, neon rays glowing seemingly everywhere, illuminating the path. Strange alien words lighted the walls and billboards, with the vehicular traffic dashing around endlessly in the sky.
However foreign it all was, Max now found it peaceful. A feeling which confused even himself.
Soon they arrived at the dock, boarding the ship.
Shepard talked to Samara, explaining a few things about the vessel as they made their way to the communications room.
They all received a few looks of interest from the few crew members at their post on the bridge, mainly the newest addition to the crew. Some whispered amongst themselves, marveling at the mismatched group.
Tali spoke up once they passed the CIC.
"Shepard, if it's all right with you, I'm gonna catch up on some sleep. It's been a long day."
Shepard gave her permission to and the engineer made for the elevator.
"Permission to depart as well, Commander?" Max requested soon after.
Shepard let out a drawn out sigh at his damnable formality.
"Yes, Six. And for the millionth time, you don't need to talk like that to me."
With that he went down the the cargo bay, attempting to ignore the way his eyes wanted to close, the way his mind yearned to rest. He'd gotten little in the way of sleep since his arrival in this new place, and it was staring to become clear.
Max set his weapons with the others on the table, going through the daily ritual of cleaning and maintaining them over the course of a few minutes.
Once done he wondered what to do. He needed to sleep but had no proper way to do so. The sleeper pods on the second deck weren't for a man of his size, especially armored. No bed would accommodate his weight either, were the Spartan to possess one of his own.
Hypothetically he would be able to squeeze into one of the bunks in the crew quarters, but that would require him to be unarmored.
He didn't feel comfortable shedding the second skin that was his armor, and it would take ages to do so unaided.
Spartans were in fact capable of taking off their MJOLNIR armor, but it was a laborious process that took time without the use of a robotic brokkr system, which Max didn't have. Nor would he ever now.
Another reminder out of many. Nothing was the same.
Max found himself actually missing cryogenic pods, somehow. At this point, he'd climb into one in a heartbeat if it meant he could rest his weary mind.
While he could go another night with no sleep, Max knew he would be scolded by the A.I. that called his head home. That alone was an unpleasant thought.
Seeing no other alternative, Max dipped his hand into one of the many small pouches on his chest, pulling out a few miniature tools.
It had been ages since the soldier had had to resort to doing such a thing manually, and he didn't look forward to it. Slowly unlocking the plates on his shoulders, Max moved down the various metal plates and joints on his arms. Each individual piece took time and precision, combined with a fair amount of delicate caution. He could not afford to even remotely damage anything, as what he possessed was quite literally irreplaceable.
Hours passed, Max losing track of time as he slowly but surely took off more and more of the metal pieces, becoming immersed in his thoughts.
His mind drifted in its half asleep state as he shed his gauntlets, specks of blood still faintly attached from the days events.
The original armor of his brethren, the Semi Powered Infiltration armor, had been far more simple to take on and off. While inferior in most ways to it's more advanced predecessor, it did have it beat in that one particular category. Lacking energy shielding, along with the enhancement capabilities of what he wore now, it had been vastly cheaper to produce for the third generation of Spartans.
It got Max thinking, wondering if it would be possible to produce a replica, in case his own armor ever became destroyed or otherwise disabled.
He no longer had ways of supplying himself, the rigorous and efficient UNSC supply chain now lost to him. It was up to him now, to take care of such logistical needs.
But that was a question for later, Max figured as he finally detached the greaves and boots from himself. All he now wore was the composite body suit, covering him from nearly head to toe. All black with a silver hue, It fit his form tightly leaving not a whole lot to imagination, leaving only his face left uncovered.
Max carefully put away all of the various pieces of his armor, doing his best to hide them as best he could. He took a nearby tarp and threw it over his gear. Ideally, no one would see it or tamper with it.
The model itself had been custom made for him specifically in every possible way, a luxury most Spartans did not receive. It had cost as much as multiple naval vessels to design and manufacture. A specialized tool ONI had deemed worthy of one of their most valuable assets in the form of Spartan B-312.
Limited shaping of the energy shields, an advanced power plant amalgamating both fusion and plasma technology led to near limitless power, implanted in the upper back section and protected by thick titanium plating interwoven with the power distribution system. A custom bodysuit intended for increased comfort and seamlessness. An enhanced reactive metal liquid crystal layer for further enhanced physical capabilities on top of the Spartans already gargantuan capability.
For a moment, he was severely apprehensive to leave it behind. It was truly a one of a kind creation, forged for Max and Max alone. In the future he resolved to attain some kind of proper storage for his things.
"I'm rather surprised that you chose to do that. The psych reports on you indicated you despise being out of armor." Kimbra said.
Her place in his neural interface allowed her the capability to access his auditory nerve on a whim. It was a one way street, as he could not mentally talk back to her. Max wondered how John had ever adjusted to such an intrusive presence. Cortana had always been talkative, and Kimbra was no different.
"All Spartans do." Was his tired response.
As Max got in the elevator Kimbra kept talking.
"You know, you ought to get some clothes here. Maybe they'll have an extra, extra large set for you." She suggested with a small laugh.
Max said nothing and waited to ascend to the crew deck. He silently hoped no one would see nor bother him, as there was no patience left in himself to deal with others.
While not as beautiful as the great void scattered with stars, the metropolis of Nos Astra was still a pleasant substitute for a gazers eyes.
Samara watched the many lights pulse, endless towering buildings standing proud, sky cars dancing around them like fireflies. Midnight itself could not put the sprawling city to sleep it seemed. The Justicar had been on the planet her fair share of times, yet it still held a level of charm.
Shepard had granted her request to be placed in the observation deck, the endless expanse of space being a sight she was well acquainted with. She had few possessions as most of her order did, only her weapons and the armor she wore.
Four centuries as a Justicar had accustomed Samara to a solitary life, one of much violence and loneliness. She had no home, the many years of wandering having turned Samara into a seasoned nomad.
In spite of her minimalistic ways, she could still enjoy a pleasant view, it seemed.
The Asari found the Normandy to be a fine vessel, advanced and sleek in design. It's architecture was very human, less rounded and far more angular than Asari ships. She did not mind the change in scenery, never unopposed to new experiences.
The room itself possessed little in the way of luxury, couches on each side, the center being empty and spacious. She sat in said center, legs crossed, meditating as best she could on the days events. It was how she typically passed time aboard space fairing vessels, and Samara knew that now, she'd be spending quite a lot of it in front of the wide glass before her.
Unlike the scenery she looked upon, the justicar soon felt tired. Like everyone else she needed to sleep, and the angular couches beside her did not appear comfortable. She had slept in worse places, but her code did not forbid her from seeking out better.
For a moment she considered the crew quarters, but decided against it. Cerberus was a human centric organization, and she'd hardly fit in amongst the species she knew little of. Samara had no desire to cause problems or make anyone uncomfortable.
She did recall the stasis pods Shepard had told her about, on the same deck she resided on. Though not designed for Asari, Humans bore a remarkable physical resemblance to them more so than any other species in the galaxy. When she had first seen the images of them decades ago, Samara, like the rest of her kind had been quite struck at their similar physiology.
At the very least it was worth inspecting she figured, lest she resign herself to the couch. She got up and left the observation room, stepping into the hallway.
The halls were empty and quiet, the lighting dim. Like Asari ships, it seemed the vessel possessed a day and night system, simulating planet side life in some limited capacity. It was a nice sense of familiarity for her, as she observed her surroundings. She did take note of the many Cerberus logos, a reminder she was still far from Asari space.
Stepping into the mess hall, she saw someone. Past the kitchen and in the pod hall, was a man standing alone.
She could not see his face, his back slightly turned to her. Though it was unmistakable. Human males were rather physically imposing, but this one was colossal.
It was the one who called himself Six, a man of few words from what she gleaned in the small time in their ride through the city.
Unlike before he wore no armor, but rather an odd skin tight bodysuit. It was nothing like what the other humans onboard were clothed in, all one piece and simple in design.
It was form fitting, displaying a powerful, strong physique beneath the jet black material.
Analyzing him from afar, Samara found herself intrigued. She wondered why he was there at such a late time, not asleep like the others of his kind.
Samara soon walked towards him, intending to make some kind of conversation.
He turned to face her, and she found herself surprised.
She was anything but an expert on his kind, but she found that his appearance radiated a rugged youth, his looks seeming younger than any other human she'd seen onboard. He appeared to barely be an adult. The way he had carried himself in the city had exhumed maturity and experience, his voice that of a shrewd veteran.
Black hair was atop his head, a a physical trait unique to humans. It appeared somewhat short, like the other male humans kept theirs. His skin was pale, perhaps a consequence of the armor he wore before.
His face was undoubtedly young, though not boyish, and worn all the same. A single thin scar ran down his left cheek, somehow looking faded and aged in spite of how youthful he appeared. A small amount of stubble lined his face, another odd trait specific to males of his kind.
Two blue orbs dark as sapphire watched her approach, his eyes speaking of untold trials and hardships.
As a justicar she had abundant experience in the reading of others. His eyes alone told her how exhausted he was, corporeally and spiritually. His body language gave off a muted wish to be alone, her very presence near him off putting.
Samara greeted him softly.
"Hello, Six."
He said nothing, giving her a small bow of the head before he returned to inspecting the pod in front of him.
"Would you perhaps know how these function? I have no experience with these." The asari asked politely.
He froze for a moment, before answering.
"I have never used one of this make. I've seen devices like in it the past, and I suspect it may be similar."
His voice was as she suspected, tired in spite of how he attempted to mask it.
His hands grasped a small lever on top of the pod and pulled, the glass like material on the front parting both left and right. A wave of chilled air washed over him, like a freezer had been opened. Max slowly glided his hands over the interior, finding it cold and smooth to the touch.
On the inside and to the left were a few different buttons and switches, an activation switch and timer for setting how long one would stay in cryogenic stasis.
To the Spartans surprise, it appeared tall enough to allow him to use it. It would be a tight squeeze, but Max cared little for comfort so long as he could properly rest.
While Max's fingers flowed along the pod he thought on all the times in his life he had been in cryo-pods. From his first time aboard a naval vessel to the four years he had spent adrift aboard the Forward Unto Dawn.
"It appears you are familiar with these, Six." Samara remarked at his motions.
Never before had anyone so easily picked apart his inner thoughts, let alone an alien whose species he had known for less than a day.
Ignoring her comment he instead chose to educate her.
"This switch, is for activation." He said pointing at it. "I assume you cannot read this language, so listen close."
He quickly explained to her which each different button and switch meant, so that she could use it.
Once done, he quickly climbed into the pod and readied to hit the activation button.
"Thank you, friend." Samara said with gratitude.
That gave Max pause. It was a word he seldom heard.
Before he could think further she spoke one final time.
"May I ask, is Six your true name?"
Max looked at her, a regretful expression upon him.
"No."
Hello guys. Not an action packed one, but I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless. I appreciate all the support and nice reviews from last time, and I genuinely hope what I write is able to bring some joy to you. Till next time!