I AM RETURNED, TO BE GRANTED AUDIENCE ONCE MORE! So sorry for the very late update. There's a lot of stuff going on right now, and I haven't found the time or mood to write lately. However, I'm hoping that will change. SO, to get everyone psyched up, this is some fun and fluff right before we explore the grim darkness of the far future and meet our Shadowed Lords once again. I do hope you all enjoy, and do forgive me for my rather poor updating schedule.

Generation Zero: Oh, they will. They will.

Ravenguard0009: Oh, we'll get to both 40k and Halo soon enough. I think you'll like it. Our characters are in for a wild ride right after this chapter.

GrialGuardianXIX: I have got to remember to write Trazyn collecting stuff. That's one of my favorite things to write. Thanks for reminding me. As for the Imperium... the fans want to see the grim darkness, and I want to write a little bit of one of my favorite groups I haven't ever written before, so we're gonna see us some grim darkness. I think you guys will all enjoy.

187: They do indeed. I think a lot of people forget the all of the Imperium isn't always a hellhole all the time. However, 40k's style is such that the peaceful places are boring and don't come up a lot, so we're going to see one of the more brutal (and fan-favorite) worlds. As for one of the ideas you mentioned... we'll be getting some of that, too. I can't wait.

jacobdkidder: Oh, she'll show up soon enough. I'm quite looking forward for things from here on out. This chapter is the end of the beginning and 'getting to know each other'. From here out we're going to get into the darkness then the arc of all of the governments planning and meeting.

BonesofSmite: Ah, Trazyn is so much fun to write. I think a lot of people forget just how stupidly powerful he is. Definitely enough to give even Cypher pause. I hope you like what's to come.

LezGo35: Revenant, from the Titanfall universe.

Nobody here: Ha! Well, we'll see more of everyone's favorite Commissar soon.

Clare Prime of Ultra: Ah, we'll get there. I'm quite looking forward to it, and I'll be sure to have the next chapter out soon. (I promise; it's already nearly done.) Enjoy the story!

Guest: Sounds good. Sorry for not having posted for so long!

Guest: I don't know. I've thought a lot about that. So, you guys tell me: do you want the Illusive Man on the Shadowed Lords or not?

Guest: We're back, baby! I hope you enjoy the story!

midistik: I don't know much about starcraft, unfortuantely. I would like to add more to it, but I already have a lot on my plate. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story!

local doc: Thanks! I hope you like what's to come!

oOo

Shore Leave

"Do not touch anything unnecessarily. Beware of pretty girls in dance halls and parks who may be spies, as well as bicycles, revolvers, uniforms, arms, dead horses, and men laying on roads - they are not there accidentally." -1930's Soviet Red Army infantry manual

oOo

"Alright. It's quite simple. Do not add to the population. Do not subtract from the population. Stay out of the hospital, the newspapers, and jail. If you do end up in jail, establish dominance quickly." Captain Thomas Drake looked out at the seemingly endless numbers of soldiers and crewmen gathered in the Apocalypse's hangar bay. "This has been your mission brief. Enjoy yourselves." He gave a curt nod to the crowd before turning on his heel and striding away, black coat swirling around him.

The other commanders, the so-called 'Magnificent Scoundrels', as the scuttlebutt was referring to them as, gave a few nervous or amused glances at Drake's retreating form. The nine of them were staying aboard the ships for the present moment.

The planet below them was within the outskirts of Drake's galaxy, a place that was used to having explorers, smugglers, mercenaries, soldiers, and other various types of spacers on it for shore leave. While they would likely get some odd looks based on the fact they had multiple new alien species with them, no one would overtly care. The planet's authorities apparently knew Drake well. Nothing untoward would happen here.

As the troops eagerly filed past the commanders to the shuttles, the Scoundrels took a moment to look at their crews.

It was good they had some time on actual ground to relax. There would be no one shooting at them; no mission to worry about. They needed it and deserved it. Besides, it would help foster better relations with each other.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do, and certainly don't do anything I would do," called Quill cheerfully. Cooper and Vir grinned even as Shepard sighed and shook her head, an amused smile on her face.

Quill got some strange looks, a few thumbs up and some laughs from that. As their men filed out and onto the transports, the commanders turned to each other.

"Well, that's that," noted Vir. "What do we do? We stuck up here?"

"I think we'll let them have some time to themselves on the planet while we run through any work that needs to be done on the fleet," replied Kirk. He gave a small grin. "Then, I suppose, we can join them. This is a shore leave for everyone, after all." They small group shared smiles.

Despite the fact this leave was really for the men, the commanders would be more than happy to take advantage of it. They needed leave as well. (None would admit it, but the stress of not only the time event but the various actions and wars of their home galaxies were taking their toll. Each commander hoped this meeting with counterparts from new realities could help the problems within their own, but they'd only done some low-grade missions so far; they'd need to face the bigger picture, and soon. But first, some relaxation. A calm before the storm.)

"You know, we should get the Chief to go down there somehow," noted Cooper, turning to the others. "He doesn't ever really do anything outside of the missions." The various commanders nodded. That much was true.

The Chief was the most quiet and enigmatic of their group. He spent the vast majority of his time in his borrowed quarters aboard the Enterprise, and only begrudgingly interacted with the crew at Kirk's insistence. He was terrifyingly lethal in battle, the stuff of nightmares for any opponent that might face him, but outside of it he was a green statue with a gold visor who one could only tell was a human due to his movement and monosyllabic answers.

The others didn't quite know what to make of the Chief. They didn't know anything about him; they didn't even know his name. It was figured the only way to get to know more was to get him to open up, hence the arrangements they had.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," nodded Vir. The Chief, strange and aloof though he may be, was still one of them. The small group of commanders from different realities was getting rather close due to their shared circumstance, and they wanted the Chief to be in the group as well.

"Sounds like a plan," agreed Shepard. She looked around. "So we'll do some work, go get the Chief, and go down and have some fun." The others nodded. "Well then, synchronize your watches, 'cause Operation Get-the-Chief-out-of-his-Room is about to begin!"

oOo

"I know a really good sandwich place, right over here. Trust me, you'll all love it." Sergeant Griffen of the Valhallan 597th gave a small frown as she followed the assorted group of Apocalypse mercenaries, Starfleet crewmen, and the Omen's marines. There were slightly over a dozen of them being led by some of the mercenaries who had apparently been to this planet before.

Griffen wasn't entirely sure about this. The only non-Imperial planet she'd ever been on had been controlled by the Tau… and then genestealers had shown up… Suffice to say, it was not a pleasant experience, and Griffen really didn't know how to act in a place that didn't at least have a nominal Imperial presence.

Still, she was in a group of soldiers, soldiers she knew, and all of them were armed. The local populace catered to mercenaries, soldiers, smugglers, spacers, and adventurers, and were used to weapons. Besides, Captain Drake apparently was well-known and well-liked. Anyone with him was able to do as they pleased so long as they didn't cause any trouble.

"Yeah, Tals knows what he's talking about. Trust me, you'll want to listen to what he says," inputted another Apocalypse armsman. They were currently making their way to said sandwich shop. Griffen wasn't really sure what to think about that, either. What would non-Imperial food be like? She'd had quite the variety throughout her career in the 597th: the Commissar being a celebrity certainly helped in that regard.

"You know, I've thought about it, and cigarettes are kinda like hamsters, actually. They're both perfectly harmless until you stick one in your mouth and light it on fire," mused the mercenary Tals as they walked. The man who had told them to listen to him, Nick, stopped and stared at him.

"On second thought, don't listen to a damn thing he says." Nick turned towards Tals. "What is going on in your head?"

"My mind is an enigma," replied Tals dramatically.

"What's an enigma?" piped up one of the other mercenaries behind them. Nick gave a chest-heaving, world weary sigh.

"Never mind, son, never mind," he said. "Tals, legitimate question here: are you insane?" Tals turned to him, expression completely deadpan.

"According to my latest psych evaluation, yes." Nick shook his head. Griffen was trying not to smile at their banter. It reminded her of her own men and women.

"Okay, then! I'm getting a sandwich and ignoring everything you just said there."

Fair enough. Griffen hid her amusement behind her sergeant's facade as the party continued onwards.

The sandwich shop was… nothing like Griffen had been expecting. It was in a nice brick building and surrounded by floor-length windows on all sides. It bore a blue roof and the rather dull name of Jeff's Famous Sandwiches on a sign above the door.

It wasn't like any building she'd ever seen before. It lacked the large, sweeping gothic architecture of the Imperium; indeed, within the Imperium, shops were either within the massive gothic hive buildings or part of the slums and made of whatever was handy at the moment. It also wasn't like Gravlax, with its incredibly strange Tau architecture. Griffen swore those xenos were allergic to straight angles.

It just looked… simple. Comfortable. Like someone who had the means to do so had wanted to start up a sandwich shop and built it, with large appealing windows and comfortable furniture.

How odd.

The interior of the shop was open, with a variety of tables laid out. There was a counter where orders were taken and sandwiches were made. It looked rather like a bar or tavern, and Griffen guessed it operated similarly, though the only product it served were sandwiches.

At the present moment, the shop had a few civilian customers: some workers from various areas on a lunch break, a few people sitting alone, and a family. Griffen watched two young children giggling with their parents like they were some sort of rare bird. There was a pang of something in her heart, a something of want, a something of jealousy that they never had to deal with terrible xenos or the Ruinous Powers, a something that told her this would never be hers. She shook it off like the good soldier she was and moved onwards.

"Okay, okay, what does everyone want?" called out one of the Apocalypse's crewmen to the now rather conspicuous and large group of soldiers. A slight squabble broke out amongst the Apocalypse's crew over who would be paying, much to the bemusement of the others. In the end, the Apocalypse crewmen present insisted on paying for the food of their extra-galactic counterparts and split the bill between them.

It was a touching gesture; a step forwards to say they were all true comrades, all on the same side. Griffen thanked them even as some part of her delighted in free food.

She'd ended up getting a roast grox sandwich (they called it beef; it tasted the same to her) with some good cheese (not reconstructed) and fresh vegetables. Griffen was very much not excited to go back to Guard standard rations after being spoiled for so long on the Omen and now on shore leave.

"Nick! Seriously? What the fuck? Salami, mozzarella, and mayonnaise? That is vile. Why?"

"It's meat with cheese and a sauce. What's so wrong about that, you idiot?" Griffen smiled over to where a few of the others were arguing over their tastes. It was very familiar. But there was still something missing.

Looking up at the clear blue sky, seeing people walking around her freely, shouldn't be this off-putting. She'd been on a hundred worlds, both in war and peacetime. Some looked like this, some were cold and frozen (very homey to a Valhallan), some were smog-choked hellscapes ruled by the Adeptus Mechanicus, and others were tumbles of dark rocks against dark skies. But none of them seemed to feel as strange as this place did.

Griffen wondered what was off, what was wrong… and then slowly realized. Whenever she and the rest of the troopers had been relaxing like this, laughing and eating either in base or at some civilian restaurant, they were on deployment. They were active.

The Imperial Guard was always active.

There was not a single point in Griffen's life after joining the Valhallan Ice Warriors that she was not in combat, on her way to combat, or relaxing between combat encounters. To be truthful, she forgot what life was like outside the Guard. Her old life on Valhalla was long gone; her family either dead or forgotten. So it was for those who gave their lives in service to the Golden Throne.

But this… This was… they weren't going to go deploy to fight Tyranids, or Tau, or Orks, or anything else. Yes, of course they would be leaving soon to an unknown future, and yes, they would be fighting again, but there was something different about this. There was nothing urgent about this, nothing looming over their heads… They… they weren't in the Guard. They were just people having fun, not Guardsmen trying to enjoy a small moment of peace while it lasted.

It was… strange. Strange, but nice.

Yes, though Griffen as she looked over to a group of mixed soldiers laughing, she could get used to this.

But her life belonged to the Golden Throne first. She suddenly stared back at her sandwich. This life… this life was what the Guard died for, so that others may live it. It was not for her, as much as she wanted it. Sighing, she took another bite of her sandwich. She wished more Valhallans had decided to come along.

oOo

The sight was a typical one throughout human space in most galaxies. A long, wide, rectangular store with cheerful white industrial-sized lights hanging above framed countless large shelves cutting their way through the center of the space. There was a deli counter, a produce section, and a bakery attached to the massive store. Within could be found all the necessities of survival, from foodstuffs to toilet paper.

Some people called these spaces 'grocery stores', some 'markets', some 'supermarkets', others various other names but whatever one called them, the basic idea remained the same.

At the present moment, within this specific store, stood a very eclectic and alien group of individuals. Drax, with his massive size and bare torso of grey and orange, followed by Gamora's green face, Thane's equally green face, and the towering, brown-furred form of Chewbacca all stood huddled before a very frightened-looked human woman and the cart she had before her.

While Drake's home galaxy did have aliens, there were only a few other species besides humanity, and they were few and far in-between. Yes, this place catered to adventurers and explorers, which did include aliens, but these were aliens that neither the woman nor anyone else here had ever seen. So far they had been perfectly polite aside for their rather aggressive questions, but it was as much the shock of seeing a full group of brand-new aliens as it was the fear they'd do something.

The woman herself wore an apron with the store logo on it. Her black hair was tucked into a net, and before her, laid out on the cart on neat trays covered with wax paper, were small slices of sausage on toothpicks. The worker looked up at the four before her as the green-skinned woman leaned forward, looking at the sausages.

"So… what you're telling me," said Gamora carefully, "Is that not only are there samples, but they're free?" The woman nodded fearfully, perplexed at the aliens in front of her. "Hmmm," was the only response.

One by one, the four aliens picked up toothpicks from the trays. The woman was still staring at them.

"Hmmm… These… are pretty good," noted Drax, still chewing. Chewbacca growled his agreement. The woman was still staring.

"Where exactly do we find this sausage in the store, miss?" asked Thane politely. Without taking her eyes off the four, the woman pointed behind her to the deli. Thane nodded, still a perfect gentleman. "Thank you," he said with a slight nod as the four moved onwards to the deli, Drax and Chewbacca taking a few more of the sausage samples with them.

After getting a truly stupendous amount of smoked meats and various cheeses at the deli (the latter were mostly bought by Gamora for her crew and Quill), the four wandered throughout the store, looking up and down the various aisles. The amount of products for sale here was simply mind-boggling.

"Hey guys, this place is great! They have everything you can think of!" A new voice interrupted their silent walking. The four looked over to the aisle entrance.

The massive forms of Sunny and Cannon, one a bright blue, the other a striking grey, waved at their four compatriots. The brother and sister joined them, both holding large bouquets of flowers. Sunny took a bite out of hers, chewing carefully as the four in front of them stared.

"You… ah, paid for those, I assume," said Thane faintly. The Drev siblings looked slightly offended.

"Yes, got them from the floral section," replied Cannon. Both Drev took a look at the vast amount of meat products the others had bought and shuddered. "Carnivores," he sighed.

"Omnivores," replied Gamora snarkily. Cannon rolled his eyes in reply to the good-natured argument the group had earlier.

Drev, despite their massive size and warlike tendencies, were herbivores, much to the surprise of nearly any other species that met them. Sunny had found that human flowers were actually quite good.

Adam gave her flowers quite frequently. Apparently human girls liked to look at them. She liked to eat them. They were tasty.

Adam found it funny. He kept giving her flowers though, much to her delight.

"So what did you guys get?" she asked, interested.

"Sausages and meats, cheese…" Drax trailed off, looking around them. He saw an entire shelf of various sauces from around the galaxy. "This place really does have everything," he marveled.

The party of six ended up walking out of the store with eight cartloads of various goods (the carts were really a good idea; humans were quite clever, though it was annoying when the wheels would stick). Fruits none of them had seen before, every type of vegetable imaginable, nuts of all sorts, cheese from as far away as Earth, the meats of seven or eight different animals, frozen goods from seafood to pizza, flowers of every color and shape, and a truly stupifying amount of processed junk food completed their load. Both they and a lot of their shipmates would be quite happy about this.

"We need to go to human grocery stores more often."

oOo

"No, you pathetic imbeciles, put the 'Z' boxes onto the 'Z' shuttle, and the 'X' boxes onto the 'X' shuttle!" Eric Richter's annoyed voice cut through the air, directed at crews of gray-jumpsuited men and women loading heavy crates onto various transport craft upon the planet's spaceport. The hustle and bustle of the area was being controlled by the Apocalypse's second-in-command, who had been put in charge of most of the fleet's supplies. "Seriously! How hard can that be?"

Even as Richter sighed, exasperated, a car bearing the markings of the local police pulled up to the docks. The Apocalypse's executive officer resisted the urge to roll his eyes as two policemen stepped towards him.

"Picking up or dropping off?" he drawled with another sigh. The cops grinned.

"Dropping off," the leader replied, motioning at the other cars. From them came more grinning policemen leading a shrink of rather drunk crewmen from the various ships of Richter's fleet. Richter rolled his eyes.

"Very well, put them on the shuttle," replied Richter. Somehow, it was always him ending up dealing with things like this. Supplies he could do. Logistics he liked. But then he had to deal with the shenanigans on top of it, which got very tiring very quickly.

"Hhhhheeeeeeeeeyyyyy, sir!" slurred one of the incoming crewmen, held aloft only by two grinning policemen.

"Johnson, get in the shuttle," said Richter tiredly. He turned to the cops as they finished escorting their charges to the shuttles heading to orbit. "Is that it?" Their leader nodded.

"That's all, Richter." The Apocalypse's second-in-command grumbled.

"It's telling that you know my name by this point." He got a laugh out of that.

"See you next time you guys come around!" waved the lead policeman cheerfully as he got back into his car. Richter sighed and went back to looking at his supply lists.

"Oh, I hope not, but somehow I know I will…"

oOo

Finished with what work they had, Shepard, Quill, Solo, Cain, and Drake, joined by a grinning Kirk and Cooper, walked into the Chief's quarters aboard the Enterprise. The super-soldier himself looked up from where he was meticulously cleaning his gun.

"Hey, Chief," said Quill cheerfully. "We're headed down to the planet. Want to join us?" In reply, the Chief merely tilted his head minutely, as if he couldn't exactly decide what to do with the point-blank request. After a moment, he tilted it once more as if listening to something no one else could hear. His shoulders slumped in a minute sigh, and he stood.

"Very well," he replied. The gun was assembled as if by magic before their eyes and the green-armored super-soldier straightened. "Where are we going?" Quill's eyes glinted.

"Do you know how to play poker?" he asked. The Chief shook his head.

"I've seen it played before, but I don't know all the rules." Solo grinned.

"Don't worry. We all have these gambling card games that are a lot alike in our different realities, so we're learning from each other. We'll teach you," he reassured the Chief.

"A fair warning: it's been said I'm fairly lucky," continued the Chief as they walked through the Enterprise's halls. The others were secretly delighted the Chief was talking so much. Maybe they could finally get him to open up more.

"In my experience, there's no such thing as luck," said Cain sagely. Solo looked at the Commissar weirdly. Cain glanced back. "What?"

"Nothing," dismissed Solo. "Just reminded me of someone. Anyway, let's get going!"

oOo

The tension in the air was palpable. It hung throughout the room like a thunderstorm, ominous, waiting for the rain to break. Around a long table, topped and padded with green felt, dozens of onlookers waited with baited breath, silently watching, not daring to disturb those who sat around the table.

"Call," said Commissar Cain smoothly. He looked up from the five cards in his hand to the other players seated around the table, a calm and perfectly unreadable look on his face. The others merely stared back at him with equal placidity.

"Raise," intoned Shepard, sliding a series of brightly-colored circular plastic chips into the center of the table.

"Raise," said Solo, tossing more chips into the ever-growing pile in the center.

"Raise," noted Drake calmly, moving even more chips into the center.

"Fold," said Quill calmly, putting his cards down and sliding them closer to the center. He then slouched back in his chair, watching the others, an amused smile twitching on his face.

"Raise," intoned the final player roughly. The Master Chief's massive green gauntlet took a series of chips with surprising dexterity and moved them into the center. There was a slight intake of breath from the onlookers. None of the other card players twitched a muscle besides Quill, who only raised an eyebrow.

"...raise," said Shepard carefully after a moment of debate. She tossed more chips into the center of the table to join the others. There was some murmuring of the crowd in the background. Shepard looked towards Cain, expression blank. The Commissar considered his move.

"Fold," he said eventually, sliding his cards away from him. He leaned back in his chair.

"Raise," said Drake, his voice still calm. He slid more of his chips in the center and stared intently at the remaining players.

"Raise," said the Chief, tossing more chips into the pile. The sides of Quill's mouth quirked. The onlookers murmurings became louder.

There was one final round of raising, one final round of tantalizing, torturous, tension-filled thinking of moves and cards. Finally, the players called. The entire room held its breath.

"Full house," grinned Shepard smugly, turning over her cards to reveal a very good hand. Drake sighed and tossed his cards forward.

"I was bluffing," he admitted wryly. Shepard gave him a friendly nod.

"It was a good bluff, but it wouldn't help against this," she noted sympathetically. The players, and the crowd behind them, then both turned to the Chief, waiting and watching with bated breath.

"Royal flush," said the Chief with his usual lack of emotion, turning his cards face-up to reveal the highest hand in the game.

The room was filled with instant pandemonium.

"How?" demanded Shepard, a look of shock overtaking her features. Solo and Quill looked at each other incredulously. Cain gave a small, wry grin.

"Some bluff that was," muttered Drake under his breath, annoyed.

"How did you get another royal flush?" asked Shepard. The Chief merely gave a small, minute shrug. The Normandy's commander blew a stray lock of red hair from her forehead and tossed her cards frustratedly into the center of the table.

"Odds of getting two royal flushes in a row are approximately 1,200,000 to one," noted Mordin Solus from where he stood in the crowd. Beside him, some of the watching soldiers exchanged money.

"Hey, never tell me the odds!" called Solo with a frown from where he sat.

"Seriously, is he cheating?" asked Quill, looking to his compatriots at the table. As one, Cain, Drake, and Solo shook their heads.

"No, he's not," replied Cain. "We would have noticed by now." Solo nodded his agreement. The Commissar, smuggler, and mercenary captain were card players of extraordinary experience and skill. It would have been lethally hard to try and slip some sort of cheat past that.

"C'mon, look at that face," added Drake humorously, gesturing towards the Chief's expressionless golden visor, "And tell me he's cheating."

He did have a point, though. The Chief was very distant, but lacked the dishonesty and will to cheat at a card game between friends.

"He's won the past five," groaned Shepard from where she sat. "Straight, flush, four kings, and two royal flushes now."

"I'd blame the shuffling, but we've all shuffled, and I can tell they're all legitimately shuffled," sighed Solo. He looked towards the Chief. "You should fly with me, kid. We need that sort of luck on the Falcon." From behind him, Chewbacca rumbled something in his odd gargling, warbling language. Solo rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on, it's not that bad." Chewbacca replied with something along the lines of 'yes it is' if his body language and Solo's long-suffering expression were anything to go by.

"When you said you were lucky, I didn't think it would be like this," noted Drake.

"Ah, well, it was a good game," said Cain, standing and stretching. "I think that's me for the night. I'll be going to get a drink." So saying, the Commissar gave a small nod and left. Shepard turned to the others.

"Well then, what do you say? Go get some drinks while Chief counts his winnings?"

"Sounds good to me," said Solo. The Chief gave a nod.

"Alright, then. Onwards!"

oOo

"Commander Shepard." Drake's smooth voice cut through the room. Shepard looked down. Captain Drake was seated at a small, elegant table against a wall in the corner of the room. It was something of an odd sight, the bar, restaurant, and open spaces all filled with talking and laughing soldiers contrasting sharply to the figure of Drake, always pristine and elegant, sitting by himself merely watching the proceedings around him.

There was a bottle of some sort of liquor with an old-fashioned label on the table before him, alongside a series of glasses, one of which was filled and currently being swirled in Drake's black-gloved hand. Interestingly, the liquid was green: not the neon green of several liquors from Shepard's own galaxy but rather a pale, leafy color. Drake saluted her with his glass.

"Take a seat," he invited. Shepard did, noting with appreciation they both had their backs against the wall. "Care for a drink?" Shepard looked over to the bottle and the uniquely-colored liquid inside.

"What… is that stuff?" she asked. There was French writing on the front. Shepard didn't exactly take Drake for that sort of artisan stuff, but it took all sorts, she supposed. She briefly glanced over to the bar, where Vir sat with something violently pink and a curly straw. That was something she didn't expect either.

"Tell me," said Drake, pouring a bit of the green liquid into the bottom of a glass and sliding it towards her, "What do you know about the Carthusian Order?" Shepard frowned. The name wasn't familiar.

"The name doesn't ring a bell," she replied. "Who are they?" Drake gave a wry smile and took a sip of his drink. Hesitantly, Shepard followed.

Whatever this stuff was, it was quite good, and incredibly unique in terms of taste. It was mostly herby, with hints of mint and pine and citrus. Shepard didn't really think she'd ever tasted anything like it: she was more of a beer person.

"The Carthusians are a Catholic religious order of monks," explained Drake. "Interestingly, and rather unique amongst the various monks of various religions throughout the world, they take a vow of silence: they can't speak except on appointed times of the week. They also make liquor in their monastery, called Chartreuse, which is what you're drinking right now."

Shepard looked at the green liquid filling the bottom of the cup. Interesting.

"Considering it's a secret recipe, made by one group in the French Alps on Earth, you can imagine it's rather unique due to supply and demand," continued Drake. He sighed, a distant, faraway look coming across his face. "Sometimes I wonder if I should have taken a ride to the Alps; become a monk instead of a mercenary." Shepard glanced at him, wondering how to deal with his sudden melancholy.

"I don't know, sitting in a monastery all day seems a little bit… boring, especially for people like us," replied Shepard conversationally. Drake looked at her with an expression that almost seemed like… sadness?

"It would be a peaceful life," he replied softly. Looking over to her, Drake seemed to snap out of whatever mood had overtook him. "Ah, nevermind. There are other things we should discuss." Shepard was immediately on edge. That usually never bode well, especially when they were supposed to be relaxing.

"About what, exactly?" asked Shepard. Drake sighed once more.

"I know this topic of conversation is… personal and can become perhaps unpleasant, but it's pertinent to inform you." Another sigh. "But… ah, I've seen the way you look at Garrus. I know."

Shepard's stomach dropped even as she felt a slight blush cross her face. What… how did he know? She wasn't really entirely sure herself what she felt about her loyal Turian crewmate, but it was… something a bit more than friends. At least she hoped. But… what was this?

"Don't look so surprised," continued Drake. "As the old adage goes, most people see but they don't observe. I observe, and so I know."

"What… do you know?" asked Shepard, her mouth dry. "Why are you bringing this up?"

"I'm merely giving you a heads up, as it were," replied Drake. "You know of some of the views of the Imperials, do you not?" Shepard had a sudden horrible feeling of where this was going. She gave a cautious nod. "Well then. Consider this a warning. While I, of course, cannot know exactly how anyone will react to any given thing, I do think if they were to… find out a human were… romantically inclined towards a non-human, things would not end well."

"What do you mean?" demanded Shepard. She was upset. She didn't quite know why. "Are you saying you're giving them a message for me? Are you saying I shouldn't like Garrus?" Shepard was heating up, because if Drake thought he could dictate what she did and did not do, who she liked and did not like-

Drake raised a hand, forestalling any further questioning.

"I do not care either way. Some people call me tolerant, some people call me apathetic, some people call me monstrous, but I'm a mercenary. I do not have moral quandaries because my morality is for sale. Frankly, I couldn't care less what you do. All I'm saying," he leaned forward to get his point across, "Is that if the Imperials find out you like an alien, they're probably gonna kill you." He flashed a smile that looked more like a grimace. "Just a head's-up." He nodded at the table. "Keep the bottle, if you'd like." So saying, he stood up and disappeared into the swirling groups of soldiers hanging around the bar.

Shepard stared at the point the black-coated captain disappeared. Her thoughts were still swirling, her heart was still racing, and she was still upset. She wasn't sure if she wanted to cry or break something.

She didn't even know if she liked Garrus… (Okay, she liked Garrus, but she didn't really know what she wanted to do about it.) But this complicated things. (Wasn't there always a complication?) If anything… happened, if she and Garrus… became a thing, then the Imperials couldn't find out. Drake was right. He meant no harm nor offense. In fact, he was actually quite helpful.

But why did things have to be so fucking complicated?

Shepard looked over to the bottle of Chartreuse.

Were there Carthusian nuns? Maybe Drake did have a point…

oOo

The night wore ever onwards. Captain Drake stood in the corner, back towards the wall out of force of habit, looking out on the bar as the various soldiers and crewmen congregated and silently reviewed everything.

He had talked to Vir and Quill, relaying the same message he'd given to Shepard and receiving much of the same reaction. Anger, upset-ness, and resignation. It was perhaps unpleasant, but necessary. Their societies and the Imperium were too different to immediately understand and accept everything of each other immediately. Drake would work on it, though, and keep contingency plan upon contingency plan in his back pocket just in case.

He walked around the room, amongst the talking and laughing and cheering soldiers, grinning at them and speaking to them and trying to make them feel at home. He took rather expensive bottles of specialized alcohol to the Drev and to Garrus and Tali, much to their delight. He smiled and joked and ignored how the heat generated from too many people in one room prickled at the scars beneath his coat.

Mostly, he observed everything. Every laugh, every smile, every overheard joke and comment, every drunken stumbling, every businesslike nod, every secretive, lustful look between two people, every card game and dart game and drinking game and everything else in-between. Information was the most important currency of all. This information would be used to keep everyone united; to make him a better leader, and he took it all in greedily.

Knowledge was power. Drake tried to use it as responsibly as he could, but either way, he liked to be the best-armed man in the room, whether it be through knowledge or weapons.

"Ah, Captain Drake." Adam Vir appeared at Drake's shoulder, one good green eye wearing an expression of… well, Drake couldn't quite tell.

"Admiral," nodded Drake.

"I suppose I should… thank you for the heads-up," said Vir with a sigh. He stared at the mercenary captain. "I hate it, you know. I hate them; I hate them because they threaten me and my friends." The statement was made matter-of-fact, as if Drake could take it or leave. Drake waited for him to continue, but that seemed to be all he wanted to say.

"I understand," replied Drake. Internally, he sighed. To him, while he did understand the human side, it was more of a headache of trying to keep everyone going. It was not cruelty; merely the way he thought. Nevertheless, he tried. "I know how you must be feeling. But the thing is, what you probably know, is that Cain and the Imperials are not bad people, per say. They're merely products of their environment. In fact, I would say they're good people, because they're trying, even if they don't agree. It's just this… This would probably push them over the edge if it came about right now." Vir nodded resignedly.

"Yeah. I get the need. And I agree. Cain is a good man. He's just trying to keep the peace. I just… I don't want my friends to get hurt." He looked back at Drake. "Sunny is… my closest friend, the person I'm closest to, the person I can trust the most. I've been through a lot, and she's always been there." He gestured down to his pant leg, hiding a prosthetic Drake knew was there. "She was the one who cut off my leg, actually." Drake's eyebrows rose, surprised. Now this was something he had not known. "It was during the Drev War; it was in the mud. She was there, and she cut it off." His eye became distant for a moment before it cleared with a smile. "Then she went across the galaxy to find me and apologize."

"Sounds like quite the story, and quite the start of something," replied Drake. Vir grinned, expression still slightly distant.

"Yeah. I… I was never good with human girls," he admitted. "Terrible, actually. She's the only person that's ever actually clicked with me romantically." Drake gave a small laugh.

"You're not necessarily alone there; I don't really understand women. Girls always say they want to be treated like a princess and then they get upset when you marry them off to a random stranger to strengthen your alliance with Austria." Vir laughed at that, which did a lot to ease the heavy topic. Drake gave a smile. "I understand, and I'm just trying to keep everyone moving forward unified and alive."

"I get it. Thanks for the heads-up, like I said." So saying, Vir gave a nod and slipped away. Drake sighed.

Things were always so complicated. Of course, he couldn't really talk. Like he said to the others, he was a mercenary. He had no strong feelings about anything. There were no moral stances he took, no political ideology or religion he subscribed to. In fact, he'd killed people of nearly every group imaginable, sometimes for no good reason than someone hired him to. It was perhaps a less complicated life, but was it a better one? A question for another time. (A question he'd ignored for more than a decade, despite him knowing the answer.)

Eh, it was something to forget. They were going to Cain's galaxy soon, which would likely be a problem, and right now they were on shore leave. All that was left was to see what the night would become.

What the night would result in started out rather simply. A fairly large group of soldiers and crewmen had been standing around with drinks in hand and had, predictably, gotten slightly bored and slightly rowdy. Fortunately, one of them had noticed a karaoke machine in the corner.

That was where things turned interesting.

One of the soldiers decided to get up onstage, and pulling several of her female comrades with her, belted out a rather enthusiastic rendition of the old human pop song, Run the World (Girls). It was jokingly directed at the male half of the group, and both sides found it to be uproariously funny, both due to the good-natured teasing and because it was sung with far more enthusiasm than skill.

However, battle lines had been drawn.

"Oh, c'mon, we can do better than that!" cried one of the men, motioning for his eager comrades to follow him up towards the karaoke stage. They noticed a few other men watching the processings, amused, and motioned for them to follow.

And so they took the stage and fired back with their own song, Tougher Than the Rest, aimed at the audience of laughing and cheering women. They finished to thunderous applause, and then the women grabbed anyone of their sex throughout the bar, aliens and Commander Shepard included. Shepard was blushing and trying to wave off the woman instantly pulling her onstage, though when she got there she gave a resigned wave. Everyone cheered.

The aliens either looked very confused or very enthusiastic. Most of them got the picture, though, and eventually ended up helping the humans to belt out Gimmie! Gimmie! Gimmie! (A Man After Midnight). They all took their bows, and then the men took their place. This time they were joined by the various commanders, who grinned down at Shepard, who merely crossed her arms and smirked resignedly.

So the 'battle', if it could be called that, wore on, with the men singing Greased Lightning, I'd Rather Be A Cowboy, and Castles In the Air, with the women firing back It's Raining Men and Single Ladies. All had an excellent time, knowing the singing duel was between friends and most certainly did not care about who sang well, only those who sang passionately. As Castles In the Air finished, Captain Drake grabbed the microphone and shooed everyone else offstage.

"Well, that was quite the performance by all involved. Many thanks for tonight's entertainment. However, I think we should end the night trying to see how well we can both sing, so…" He grinned and started the music once more, waving for everyone to join in.

"'Cause I've got friends in low places, Where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues away, And I'll be okay, Yeah, I'm not big on social graces, Think I'll slip on down to the oasis, Oh I've got friends in low places!"

oOo

Jack, also known by the hated title 'Subject Zero', sat alone on a roof overlooking the town. It was sunset, and most of the other crewmembers of the ships were either out in restaurants, bars, hotels, or had already made their way back to the ships.

But Jack was here, on top of some building whose purpose she did not know, staring alone at the sunset.

She enjoyed being alone. That was a simple fact of her existence. Well, perhaps it was more complicated than that. Perhaps it was because she had been raised in a cell, alone, by cold Cerberus scientists. Perhaps it was because everyone she'd ever known save a tiny few attempted to betray, murder, rape, steal, assault or otherwise hurt her. Such actions and such history resulted in quite a few walls, which in turn resulted in a need to be alone. It was simply better that way; better if no one could get close to you, because the only person you could trust in this crazy, screwed-up universe was yourself.

Still, sometimes it stung. There was something beneath it all, something very human that begged for human companionship. Jack quashed it every time it reared its ugly head, because listening to that part of herself only ever brought pain.

There was a noise behind her, causing Jack to whirl around. The trapdoor leading to the roof squealed open on rusty hinges. She readied her biotics. It was likely a maintenance worker, but you never knew. Better to be prepared rather than sorry.

It was neither. Jack was quite surprised when a group of crewmen from various ships popped their heads out of the utility hatch. She glared at them.

"Why are you here?" the biotic demanded. The faces of Saul, Lustig, Garang, Maverick, and the blank golden faceplate of the Chief stared back at her. She noticed that Saul was hauling a pack of beer with him.

"Here to enjoy the view," replied Garang smoothly. She gestured at the drinks. "Want one?" Jack stared.

On the one hand, she did not like nor want company. She wanted to be left alone up here to watch the sunset and think (or wallow in her own misery; the terminology worked either way).

But, on the other hand…

Free alcohol.

"Sure," sighed Jack. Saul grinned and set down his cases as the others finally tramped upwards. As the mercenary commander tossed her a beer, Jack sat back down onto the flat concrete with an annoyed huff.

Lustig, stripped down to shortsleeves, followed, sitting across from her. The Valhallan was noticeably sweating on the rather room-temperature world they were presently on: the ice-worlders considered 10C (50F) 'balmy' and anything over 15C (60F) abnormally hot. Saul, Garang, and Maverick all sat beside him, Maverick sans beer, and the Chief, also drinkless, wandered onwards to stare at the sunset on the roof's edge.

The sunset was quite nice here. This planet didn't have much industry, nor did it have any massive cities that might spoil the sight. The sun lit the sky in swathes of orange and yellow, illuminating purple-colored clouds that danced around the bright orange ball of the sun itself. It was a rather nice sunset, one of the better ones Jack had seen on her travels throughout the galaxy. Apparently, it looked rather like that of Earth's, though Jack herself had never set foot on humanity's homeworld. She didn't really want to, either; that place was scum, much like the people that inhabited it.

The sunset was nice, though Jack could say other things about the company. She didn't know why they were here, and frankly she didn't want them to be here. To that effect…

"Why are you here?" she asked, staring at the group that surrounded her. The Chief was still on the edge of the roof looking at the sunset.

"To look at the sunset, same as you," replied Saul easily. There was something in that ease that made Jack angry. It wasn't like Shepard, who had that same easy manner backed up by iron practicality, or Miranda, who was just a pet for Cerberus. This was… naivety (or niceness; she didn't like either).

"The fuck do you know," she mumbled, taking another drink. Maverick and Lustig frowned at her even as Garang and Saul shared some sort of knowing glance.

The only question was if anyone would rise to the bait, either accidentally or on purpose. Saul and Garang seemed to be having a telepathic battle-planning session even as Lustig and Maverick simply sighed and ignored her.

Strangely, the silence was broken by the most unexpected source.

"I'm sorry." The Chief's even, rough voice cut through the quiet. Jack turned over to the green-armored figure, who had turned to face her. The sun threw strange bright angels off his armor even as she scowled.

"About what?" she demanded.

"I heard what they did to you." Jack was immediately livid. How dare he look into her background! What simpering, stupid, ridiculous thing was he going to say now? He'd be like the rest, with their fake pity and stupid excuses, and- "They did that to me, too."

Jack's train of thought was not so much derailed as picked up and blasted into orbit.

"What?" she asked, momentarily stunned. The Chief stared back at her, looking slightly uncomfortable.

"They experimented on me, too." He gestured vaguely to his massive form, and a few things started to click in Jack's mind. "It's not fun," finished the Chief shortly. Jack gave a small, tired laugh.

"No, it's not," she muttered. She took another drink, sighed as she blocked out old memories, and sat down. Turning towards the others, who were looking at her and the Chief intently, she sneered. "What are you looking at?"

"I'm sorry that happened to you," said Maverick politely. Jack turned on her, knowing that Maverick knew how she would react, but not caring. It felt good to be angry at her; angry at everything.

"What do you know, chaplain?" she fired back. "At least when Miranda tries to act like a goody-two shoes, we both know she's a terrorist scumbag who's perfectly fine with human experimentation. You're just deluded. Religious," Jack spat out the word derogatorily. "You think everything's just peachy. You've never actually been in a bad situation. You've never seen the dark side of the galaxy." Maverick snorted.

"Funny, everyone always seems to say that, but they forget. I'm a chaplain. It's my job to comfort the dying, to help the poor and weary, to visit the sick and imprisoned and bury the dead. I see people every single day who are at their lowest points; maybe the lowest points of their lives. The sick and fearful and dying are where a chaplain spends most of their life, actually. What you said… that's always an excuse by people who want to give up. Faith is forged and tempered in adversary. It remains true whether you like it or not." She shrugged. Jack sneered at her and took another drink.

She didn't quite have a response for that, just as she never really had a response for level-headed, kind people who did their jobs. The crazy, yes, the broken, yes, the high and mighty and asshole-ish, yes, but never the kind and competent.

"What are the rest of you up here for, huh? Gonna gawk at me?" asked Jack, feeling rather fed up by her unwanted company.

"Just here to enjoy the time with some friends," replied Garang evenly. Jack snorted.

"Friends, yeah right. No such thing," she replied. "There might be people who have the same interests at the moment, but no such thing as true friends, like the kind you hear about in stories. Bunch of fake bullshit."

"No, it's really the individualism that people seem to push all the time that's bullshit, from my experience," interjected Saul evenly. "No truly marvelous feat in history was ever done alone. For most of human history, the only way we survived was together, in a community. Nowadays everyone's all alone, and so they've forgotten. If my time as a soldier has taught me anything, it's that you need people alongside you to actually succeed." Jack laughed at that statement, a horrible, dark sound like grated glass.

"Yeah, right. The only person you can trust is yourself. You ought to know that. Besides," she took a drink, "Soldiers are usually the ones causing the problems. You're the ones with the guns. It's the same as anything else; just a business, and in your case, what you do is legal. Or not," she shrugged. "Either way, you've got the weapons to back you up."

"Fair enough," shrugged Saul. "We make no secret of it. We're mercenaries. We've done some bad things, some good things, some in-between things. But I'd like to think I know how bad things can be, and try to avoid that." Saul turned to Garang. "Remember that one city we were in during the Eneron Complaince? The one that went to hell?"

"Yeah, Tinterion," said Garang in reply. Saul nodded.

"That's the one. Anyway, the planet was a problem, big civil war, and this city, Tinterion, had a brutal battle in it. Everything just went to hell over a few weeks. The populace didn't really have time to get out, so it was insane. We got sent in to restore order." Saul shook his head, eyes distant. "The things we saw there… The only way to restore order was the hard way." He turned and stared Jack in the eye. "The streets were lined, on every single side, on nearly every single street, by the rapists, thieves, and murderers we had to execute. Most of them were soldiers from the opposing armies that fought there." He shook his head. "Let me tell you… that was a mercy, considering the stuff we caught most of 'em doing."

"Sounds like they deserved it," said Jack darkly.

"Oh, they did. They did," agreed Garang.

"See?" said Jack. "That's what this world is. That's the true nature of humanity. You take away the rules and then you get that." She gave another hollow laugh. "That's why I hate this fuckin' universe."

"I think…" Everyone turned to Lustig, surprised he spoke. "I think you both have some points." Jack and Saul both looked at him, surprised. Maverick and the Chief were watching intently as the lieutenant spoke. "I've been there. I've seen what humanity can do; can choose to do. The darkness of it. But Maverick is right. The darkness is where faith shines brightest. Really, it's all a matter of what you choose to be. Do you want to sink to their depths, or do you want to fight against that encroaching darkness?"

"And what do you know about that, Imperial?" asked Jack. "You're what I was talking about earlier. What have you done? Go kill some defenseless alien kids and now you think you're some big hero? You're like Cerberus, if Cerberus didn't give a fuck and ruled the galaxy."

"I've seen a regiment get torn apart by petty pride and get put back together by one man who actually cared. I've seen my brothers and sisters laugh and cry and die in my arms. I've seen xenos monstrosities destroy cities and enslave worlds. I've seen insane, brainwashed cultists run at lines of soldiers and die in droves just so they could kill as many people as possible. I've seen the insane magicks of the Warp. I've seen the dead rise. I've seen things that would splatter your brain if you saw them or drive you mad with despair," replied Lustig succinctly, his tone and eyes the same temperature as the icy homeworld he hailed from.

"You've seen the dead rise?" laughed Jack. "That's bullshit."

"I wish," Lustig snorted without breaking eye contact. Something in that gaze told Jack he wasn't exaggerating at all. "The first time you see it, it's truly horrifying. The seventh or eighth time, it's mostly annoying." He took a drink. "The point is… would you rather fight them in good faith, or join them just to bring pain, because you feel the universe dealt you a bad hand and you just hate everything around you.

Jack, finally realizing the core of her motivation. "And why shouldn't I hate it all? Why shouldn't I try to hurt as many people as I can; because I can tell you for damn sure that I was never loved, never treated well. Why shouldn't I just do whatever I want, because I can?" Saul looked at her with sad eyes.

"Only you can answer that question, Jack." With a start, she realized Saul had just called her by her name. "But… if you continue that way, I can tell you one thing for certain: you will never be free."

There was a moment of pointed silence. It stretched unbroken for a long while as the small group stared into the setting sun. Eventually, Saul spoke once more.

"We've all been around. Seen things. Had things done to us. And the only way to get through, the only way to get through life, is one day at a time. The past is past. The future is unknown. There is only an infinite present, stretching as far as we can see. And yeah, some days in all of our lives have been pretty bad." He gave a nod to everyone, and most gave knowing nods or looks back. They'd all been there, at some point in their lives. They were all veterans. "And, judging by what we've heard, things throughout our galaxies look like they might take a turn for the worse. We don't know what's going to happen. But…" He gestured to the sunset. "We have today. And if there's a bad day in the future, think back on this moment, this moment of peace and beauty."

He grinned at all of them.

"Remember today. Because today is a good day."

oOo

There we have it! Some last vestiges of calm before the storm. Next will be the long awaited chapter showing exactly why 40k is the way it is. It'll be great. Again, so sorry for not having updated in a while. I'm trying my best to get things more consistant from here on out. I always appreciate any comments, criticisms, questions, concerns, and reviews!