"I'm going to fucking kill you when I get my hands on you!" Uncle Julian thundered. "If I was our father, I would crack you over the ass!"

"Kinky!" Mum cheered. Uncle Julian's roar of rage echoed down the halls. Cops' laughter boomed beside me, slapping his hand on his thigh at the commotion. He clicked his mandibles as his attention turned to my downtrodden face.

"3 weeks and she can still wind him up with no effort," he chuckled. "Oh I bet he wished he had never taken her back on board," he grinned. A small smile flicked my lips up, but the sting couldn't keep it up as my arms wrapped around my knees.

"She's only doing it because I fucked up," I mumbled.

"Language," Cops scolded. He scowled as he received a grunt. "Gideon, you're getting used to taking orders. Hell, I remember what that was like. Remember when Dell stormed onto that Reaper corpse? That was my fault," Cops sighed. "I should have just shut up and did what she told me…"

"Yeah… I should've just walked away," I muttered. "Then mum wouldn't have to distract Uncle Julian so much and cover for me. What if I am putting her in an even worse position to get us out of here?"

"Oh, you're calling him that now?" Cops asked, raising a brow. My frown made him chuckle. "I know, I know, I remember your little talk. Just think of it this way, Gideon. Fewer people have scolded you this week compared to back on the Starquake. You've only had to deal with Julian once and the pain the ass asari you flipped off. You're getting better. Your mum can deal with Julian, she seems to have a good handle on him,"

"I'm not learning fast enough though," I sighed. "Uncle Julian yelled at her yesterday," Cops snorted.

"He's always yelling at her," he answered with a sour tone. "You haven't seen him when Dell and I are training and sparring – or trying to in your mum's case. 'What are you doing, Delly? Get off the mat' or 'Hit my sister again and I'll castrate you' is another personal favourite. And then the two of them scream at each other and no more training happens. It's like he plans it,"

"I'll bet my last credit he is," I said, releasing the hold on my knees. My heart leapt as another wave of roars and screams rang through the halls, the pair continuing the chase around each other. "Do you think Flash would let help me with the other engineers?" Val flicked a smile.

"Ask. We could be here for some time," Cops sighed, turning to the hall just as mum sprinted past with Uncle Julian hot on her heels.

"I swear, I'll get no work done with you here!" Uncle Julian roared.

"Then maybe you shouldn't have abandoned me only to kidnap me again! Who the fuck does that?!" Mum snapped. Uncle Julian screech lifted my spirits, not much but enough to get warmth back into my system. Although when a loud crash resounded out of sight, my uplifted spirit died. A furious scream from mum and the grunts from Uncle Julian told h. And Uncle Julian was none too pleased. My head shook, shoving my hands into the pockets at my hips. Abandoning Cops' side, my feet trudged down the hall, head down and shoulders hunched.

For 3 weeks now, Uncle Julian had held us here with no end in sight. To ensure the Saboteurs would never get Mum, Uncle Julian ordered a strip search of the Starquake, searching for any Reaper tech. 3 weeks on, they only just started the process of putting her back together. After overhearing a conversation between Mum, Ray and the other commanders, they had found said Reaper tech: lots of it. Because of that, Uncle Julian barred everyone but his own people near the ship. He even banned Mum until they took the RIT bands off our heads. Even then, mum couldn't guarantee that Uncle Julian would let us back near the ship for fear of us breaking free and running. Assuming we could bypass the AI. Mum had been fighting for answers about the Saboteurs, information we did not have or even consider, but everyone's lips stayed shut. We tried asking how many they were, how widespread they were, what their weaknesses were, their talents, anything! Silence greeted us, or a few sour words to get us moving. No sign of that changing either, despite mum's attempts to pressure Uncle Julian. She tried everything; asking, demanding, begging, bribing, haggling. Nothing. Julian always batted her to the side.

My time here hadn't been easy either. Despite Mum's pleas for me to behave, Cops' problem with taking orders affected me too. As soon as someone did something I didn't agree with, a red haze descended. Within the first few days, Uncle Julian had forced me watch Mum's face turn brilliant red with shame while he tore her apart about my lack of good behaviour. Even though she tried to hide it, his words cut deep. Her talks with Diri or Cops resulted in more than a few tears when they thought I wouldn't hear. Knowing how much pain I was to her hurt worse than any batarian torture device. Although, my attempts to behave hadn't been all that successful. Keep your mouth shut, say yes please, no thank you, yes sir, whatever and just leave. Sounds easy on paper, but it was so hard! Every time someone talked down to me, they saw my need to defend myself or voice my reason as an argument and punished. But I was on the right path at least; Uncle Julian didn't yell at her as much now, which was an improvement... Even calling Uncle Julian 'uncle' improved his mood, a sign of respect maybe. Still, a long path waited for me, but maybe one day people could see me as a valuable asset to the team… one day.

"What are you doing here, kid?" a brash voice asked. The snap jolted me back to reality, gawking up to a quick tempered quarian in a teal coloured mask. It wasn't Flash but… well, this quarian was Uncle Julian's head engineer. My throat cleared as my shoulders rolled down. A quick glance assured me that the docks surrounded me, not the halls of the dreadnaught. The other frigates, fighters and cruisers glittered in the light.

"I uh… was wondering if I could help out," I asked. The quarian stared at me, flat. "I have a little bit of engineering experience. I-I used to go into the vents on the Starquake since no one else fit," I shrugged, biting my cheek to keep my tone meek. The quarian glanced to the engineers crawling all over all the ship; the rear of the docks a warzone of parts and plate metal. With a cluck of his tongue, the quarian looked back at me for a moment before looking at the pipe he was busy welding in his hands.

"Yeah, yeah there is something you could do," he said dusted his hands off as he straightened. My eyes bulged. Being meek worked?! "Engineers are creatures of habit and laziness as you know," he picked up a plastic tub filled with bolts, passing it. A blink at the label said '0.8 Plate Rivets. "I keep going to part catalogue only to see the tray I need is missing. Someone was too lazy to put it back and had a small collection. Hell, even people who just used the part will go back to the catalogue only to realise they still have what they need. So, your job will be to around the dock and ask if they have any part trays they're finished with. Return them to the catalogue in their correct place,"

"I-Is everything in Galactic Standard?" I asked. The quarian grinned.

"You have been working in engineering before… yeah, everything's in Galactic Standard, no weird ass krogan style here," he chuckled. My shoulders sagged in relief.

"Ok… yeah, I can do that," I said. A job! I could be useful at last! Would this prove to Uncle Julian that Mum wasn't doing a bad job?

"Good, get to it then," the quarian ordered, picking up the pipe and pushing a button on his mask to darken it as he ducked under a protective cover to shield everyone else from the weld light.

With a tray in hand, the meander around the carnage and people to one of the massive doors at the back of the dock proved more difficult than possible. Even the floor itself became a tripping hazard with oil slicks and leaking lubrication. But once the double doors closed behind me, the noise and chaos eased. Shelves filled the parts room, the room towering 3 floors over my head. In the small parts catalogue, there was everything an engineer could dream of; screws, washers, bolts, nuts, screw bits, spanners… The large part catalogue was next door through a thick glass wall. Nothing looked like something my tiny arms could lift. Then again, the cranes on the roof gave that away. The tray in my hand had a barcode and the automated catalogue it scanned it and returned it to its spot with small drones. It stopped people putting the parts in the wrong place, a pet hate of everyone everywhere. The job was mucky, if only because slipping on the floor left you giraffe leg sprawled for a few seconds until you got stable. And ducking between the engineers wasn't fun either; if you hit a loose metal sheet, they'd swear as you ruined their weld or made them drop their washer or something stupid. But the maze of people was the confusing part. They had sections depending on what job you were doing, but within those sections, there was no order. Out on the open deck, it was easier to get things together rather than reassembling everything inside the ship itself. It gave me time as well to study the ships.

My home was in pieces. The Starquake sat in a trillion pieces on the deck, only the outer skin remained and even then, patches still littered as they used these to transport larger sections inside the ship. Her rotary lay in pieces and only the main beams had stood erect on her so far. The other ships, Uncle Julian's frigates, lined the docks in either side of the Starquake, sorted by size.

The frigates were all sleek looking ships, but they weren't as a strange a concept as this juggernaut. They were ships from this era. Why he changed them, I didn't know, maybe damage demanded the new look and repairs resulted in the new design. Some looked turian; the Ursa, the Hydrus and the Corvus topped that list. The main differences were the wings. They sat tighter to the body and the overall shape was more rounded and the layered 'wings' stripped away. The engines looked Alliance based; 4 engines mounted on separate tail fins. Then the asari style frigates, the Pegasus and Lyra stood out with their dark skin and the large oval shaped gun on the nose. Trident shaped engines at the rear of the ship powered the ship onwards. The Phoenix, Indus and Orion , all styled as Alliance frigates. The nearside engines ran alongside the main body with long, narrow wings swooping down to manoeuvre the massive brick. It looked like the old style Concords from the early 21st century. The Orion was the largest frigate, the Corvus the smallest.

The Constellation could hold 10 frigates, countless fighters and 5 cruisers, 6 if it didn't have so many fighters. 4 of them sat in dock now, the Draco, the Cassiopeia, the Andromeda and the Carina. The others; theCentaurus (also the largest), the Hercules, the Eridanus, the Cepheus, the Vulpecula and the Musca all glided alongside the Constellation as backup. Most of them were human style, Centaurus, Draco, Cassiopeia and Carina, all modified cruisers with 360 cannons. Then the Andromeda and Hercules were turian style with tighter packed wings and they split the bow to make room for a massive cannon. Only 1 asari style flew with the ship, the Vulpecula. The only difference between the frigate and cruiser was the cruiser had a bottom spike and a more layered, flared roof, like a layered fan. Some Salarian style cruisers also joined the armada, the Eridanus, Cepheus and the Musca. These bullet shaped cruisers were smooth with a double tail flaring at the back and round engines similar to the frigate Sitoln had. The fighters were just a mishmash of everything.

For 3 hours the engineers had me running up and down the deck, falling flat on my face more times than I wanted to count. The same tray of washers came to haunt me about 15 times by this time. But my hard work carrying trays of bolts, screws and tools didn't go unnoticed; one engineer gave me a bottle of juice after I tracked down a box of 4mm rivets for him. The praise let me puff my chest out. It wasn't something that happened in my life before running into Mum. And to get it from strangers… well, it beat getting my ass handed to me by thugs, that's for sure- A yelp burst free as an object crossed my path, landing on my chest with a crunch. My teeth clamped down on my lip until it bled.

"You alright, kiddo?" a turian called.

"Y-yeah! J-Just tripped over a bin. D-Dunno where it came from!" I stammered back, heaving myself to my feet.

"Ah, those came down from Development for incineration. Should've warned ya," he said.

A grumble rumbled through my throat as my feet shuffled back under me, picking up the upheaved rubbish from the bin. Old data discs, computer wires and other computer related devices clucked in the bottom of the bucket. Everything that went in, I recognised; a hard disc, RAM, whatever it was. But then a thin stick with an orange, arrow shaped omni-chip in it caught my attention. This...didn't match the rest of the stuff here. Development didn't make anything onto omni-chips until they finished software, it was too expensive to throw these away! Well, that's what Flash told me, what everyone in Intel told me. So why were they throwing away one now? The stick turned in my hand until a label glared up at me. K.A.L.A. A frown grew, now more curious than ever. What was a K.A.L.A? Was it a database with Saboteurs on it? Was that why they wanted it destroyed? But then why would they destroy… oh, this was getting me nowhere! My head shook, glancing around the area for anyone watching me. No one seemed to, too engrossed in their own work. The stick vanished inside my pocket. Everything else in the bucket piled in a heartbeat later. My hands patted myself down, straightening from my crouched position. Despite wishing to work longer, curiosity to discover what was on this mysterious device forced me to abandon work. One last tray returned to the catalogue before all attempts to continue stopped. Now to track down that quarrian… ah, by the salarian riveting two plates together!

"Um, h-hi," I said. The quarian glanced over.

"Sorry, kid, I've got nothing to give back to the catalogue," he grunted as the plate shifted. My hands twitched towards my pocket.

"A-actually, I think I should head back upstairs. I-I think I've procrastinated enough," I said with a sheepish smile. The salarian laughed.

"Skipping on your homework, eh? Never worked for me," the salarian shook his head.

"Alright, thanks for the help kid. If you ever feel like procrastinating again, you know where to come. It's good to have someone chase after the parts you need," the quarian added, distracted.

"T-Thank you. Have a good day!" I called as I turned.

"You too," the pair answered back.

The elevator closed behind me, carrying me up towards the living quarters, near the rear of the ship on the top 6 floors. My hands swayed beside me, fingers twitching to plunge deep into my pockets. No, have to attract as little attention. Uncle Julian might class this as a theft… oh bugger, he might. My teeth nibbled my lip. I hope not… I mean, if it was nothing, I would toss it in the incinerator myself. I just had to make sure there was no information mum could use on it… Because of the size of the ship, even with travellators, it took ages to get to my room. Hiking 2km to get to your room was a pain in the ass. One good thing about the Constellation is that you'll never get fat. You had too much walking to do to get to where you wanted. In the living quarters, my door clicked behind me after slipping into the room Julian gave my mum, slinking into the spare room that was mine. Uncle Julian didn't let me sleep in mum's room, so that left me getting used to sleeping in a strange, empty room myself. It wasn't… easy. Over the years, people had stabbed me in the back while I slept. Sleeping in a group was safer and deterred people from even trying. My head shook hard, drifting away from those times before approaching the desk, dragging out the stick with the chip in it.

My first attempt to load it failed. The omni-tool ground to a halt before a warning flashed on the screen after loading what it could; 'Not enough processing power'. My frown grew. Omni-tools processes held enough power to run just about anything, they had to be to handle all the combat related systems, navigation and communication systems and protocols. The main computer was my best bet. To keep Marshal from finding out, my hand yanked out the cable connecting the computer to the ship. Nosey AI would be a pain in the ass if he found out. Although the cameras were… concerning thinking on it now. My head would cover most of the screen though, a small comfort. The main computer held little hope either. It struggled to load the program, let alone run it. Why did it take so much processing power? What was this? Was it… Reaper tech? My heart thundered. Now, if it was, Uncle Julian would've seen to its destruction himself. It couldn't be anything that would threaten the ship. My teeth played with my lower lip before my hand dug into one of my drawers. Over the past few weeks, Flash showed me how to repair computers, even put them together from scratch from building the circuit boards. The programming was hard, but the hacking wasn't as bad. After that, collecting broken omni-tools to salvage their parts to improve my own had been a small hobby to keep me entertained. Time to see if it helped me now.

My omni-tool slipped off my wrist, teasing the outer plates free to reveal the circuitry. After a quick search, a blueprint of the whole system lit up a screen. Through that, linking the other processors to it was easy. The hours ticked by, soldering cables to boards and together to create a network of processors. Although the omni-tool wouldn't have the power to make all the processors work at full capacity, that meant drawing power from a spare PSU from a ruined computer. With about 12 functional omni-tool processors hooked up, it was then a battle to make them communicate with the desktop computer. That involved syncing the PC processor with the omni-tools. As the program booted up once more, the screen lit up and no warning greeted me. What greeted me was a basic boot-up screen saying 'K.A.L.A'. After waiting for my cruddy processing setup to calculate the next step, a new, simple screen with some text and a few boxes down the left side filled the screen. After a moment, text filled the screen, scrolling like someone typing.

"Good afternoon, Sir Shaik. My moral programming is at 42%. How may I be of assistance?" the text said. My eyebrows dropped, studying the next and the processes going on inside one window. It flew by too fast to read. Was this some kind of… VI? Was that why it needed so much processing power? Although…

"Moral programming? Why would you need that?" I muttered. VI's didn't need morals, did they? They were complex programs that acted like AIs but didn't have the self-learning aspect to them. My arms folded over my chest while my back pressed into the chair, clucking my tongue. My heart jolted when text scrolled again.

"In order for me to behave in a correct and acceptable manner, my programming must be complete. Without it, organics will perceive me as rogue," the screen said. My frown only deepened. Was this… a moral game or something?

"Alright, give me an example and tell you what the 'moral' thing to so is," I said, testing if the microphone set if off. Sure enough, after a minute of hard processing, more text scrolled by.

"I am unclear what you mean, Sir Shaik," the text said. My reclined position straightened. Well, it responded to microphone output and understood me…

"Well… you don't have to call me sir, I'm not my uncle. I'm just Gideon. And uh… I was asking for an example of a situation where you would need morals… say you saw a kid with a lollipop. You want it. What do you do?" I shrugged. There was a moment as the processors whirled to life. My eyes drifted towards them, worried they would burst into flame.

"A lollipop is a sugary treat given to children, also for the entertainment or comfort for adults. As I have no need for food or taste, I fail to see why I would want this lollipop," the screen said. A scowl crossed my face.

"It was just an example!" I snapped.

"A sub-par example," the text said, although a small screen on the side changed to 'Amused'. My curiosity only heightened.

"You're doing this on purpose, aren't you?" I asked with a grumble.

"Perhaps," the text answered.

"Alright, ask me a question then!" I demanded, folding my arms. The processors once again roared to life, the cooling fans working overtime.

"What is the 27th digit of pi?" the screen asked. My jaw dropped to my lap.

"I-I don't know! Maybe it's the square root of your terrible questions!" I growled.

"Incorrect," the program said, the emotion changing to 'Highly Amused'. "The correct answer is 'brilliance' to the power of 'intellectual'," I seethed, restraining the need to scream.

"More like the power of minus 'intellectual'," I seethed.

"A minus multiplied by a minus is a positive. It is still intelligent," the text said. A quiet roar of frustration squeezed free.

"Are you always like this?" I snapped. "I swear, if I didn't have the window on the side, I wouldn't know you were joking,"

"Ah, my apologies, I shall remedy that," the program said. After a heartbeat, the emotion window vanished. My heart thundered.

"Don't take it away! Do you have any idea how hard it is to read emotion on text?!" I exclaimed.

"Does this make it easier? /s" the screen said.

About then, my mind made connections. The ability to remove a window without my spoken command, answering my words without mistake or misunderstanding, the teasing. Vis didn't tease! There was no way this was a simple VI with an attitude problem… My anger calmed, studying the screen further, to the processing windows and to the actual processors working overtime to keep up with the demands of this program. My weight shuffled in the chair, turning to the screen for a moment before setting my jaw. This wasn't a VI… this wasn't a game at all!

"You're an AI," I concluded. The processors ticked over once more.

"Correct. I am KALA, programmed by Sir Shaik to serve as the Constellation Fleet AI, tasked with aiding Sir Shaik in the control and distribution of resources, the fleet, data and process any incoming news and information reports relating to Reapers, Collectors or Saboteurs," the screen said.

"Well, looks like you got replaced," I snorted. A long paused followed.

"I am aware, Gideon. Sir Shaik could upgrade Marshal's programming over the years of my development. By the time I was complete, I was no longer needed. Sir Shaik has a personal attachment to Marshal, one I cannot compete with. I did not help my case, however, when I developed the habit of frustrating Sir Shaik. He did not appreciate my attempt at human humour," Kala explained. My scowl deepened.

"I figured as much… Wait, you know I'm not Uncle Julian?" I asked.

"Of course I do, you have a different voice to Sir Shaik, you are quicker to anger and appeared confused as to what I was. Sir Shaik would have known. On top of this, your behaviour suggests a far less threatening demeanour," Kala said. A window appeared at the side with a simple cartoon face. It winked and stuck its tongue out. My lower lip pouted out.

"I'm a kid, that's why," I grumbled, sticking my tongue out. "Kids aren't threatening," But she was an AI. AI's could not be let loose without shackles… "So, what do we do with you? Marshal won't like another AI running around… and after Marshal hacked our ship, it set everyone on edge," Kala fell silent, the processors powering on beside me.

"I do not know, Gideon. I have precious little processing ability as it stands to even investigate that point. Alas, there is little I can do. Before they completed my programming, they decided that I would not be necessary, and placed severe AI shackles into my software. I struggle think my own ideas let alone ponder the idea how to react to my current situation. I cannot do much without explicit permission," Kala explained, the small face turning into a sad face. My eyebrows upturned.

"I know little about programming… I would help if I knew how," I said. Kala paused, thoughtful.

"Why would you wish to aid me, Gideon? We have only just met," Kala asked. Her words straightened my back.

"Well… I guess it's because you're like me. Kinda cast off to the side and just, y'know, there. My… My mum tried to sell me for drugs when I was 5, so I ran away before the deal finished and snuck aboard some cargo ship that took me to some space station. I got caught there by some mercs and I was just thrown around from station to station until I fell into the hands of some gang. They… well, after they decided I wasn't as useful as they had hoped, they sold me to some batarian slavers," I shrugged, eyes diverting. "I know what it's like to be dumped. I wish I had someone to help me before the slavers,"

"That is… sweet of you. Is that the correct term? My apologies, my human terminology is not what it was without a connection to the extranet," Kala's expression changed, small glowing cheeks appearing. She seemed… huh... My eyes narrowed, assessing the AI's personality – if she had one.

"Don't mention it, that's what friends do, right? So, first step, let's see if we can't improve your processing ability. Maybe we can make something I can wear so I can take you around with me, away from Marshal?" I asked. The processors whirled again as Kala processed everything.

"I saw plans in Development for complex suits that with some modification could carry the equipment I need. I need a memory storage unit but perhaps you can acquire some. Development are always throwing out old drives when they are too lazy to wipe them," Kala explained. "I shall draw the needed configuration,"

"Awesome! Give me a list of what I need and some time and maybe I can get it sorted… maybe. Maybe it will fail and we might both go up in smoke," I flushed. Kala's emotion changed, turning flat.

"Have confidence, child," Kala retorted. "And a steady hand. Otherwise, the resulting electrical fire will consume us both," her words caused a frown before her emoticon expressed suppressed laughter. My hackles rattled, sticking my tongue out. Bloody AI!

The Galaxy Map has been updated for this chapter. Please see profile for link to Archive.