We have a shorter, more interlude-ish chapter here. The next two chapters I'm very much looking forward to, especially because, as many reviewers have pointed out, we need to see some of the bad guys soon enough... I hope you enjoy this chapter, including some of its more lightheartedness, and some of the more interesting aspects of the Scoundrels for things to come. A quick note on Cypher and his gang: the shadow war continues, but won't show up every single chapter due to timing reasons. I am quite looking forward to seeing more of him and what's to be a very interesting group. On to reviews!

CommunistBaboon: Perhaps... Though no one knows what Alpharius is up to, least of all Alpharius. (Side note: I am Alpharius.)

Savior16: That would be quite fun. Thought the issue is that Doomguy is a little bit too much, even against the more powerful opponents we have here.

BonesofSmite: Oh, it's going to be interesting. Trust me. Hopefully you enjoy what's to come!

oOo

"Beats me how some people treat this war like it's some kind of picnic, when it's really a privilege to be asked to serve in the army. Of course, it's not just our army. We're here with the UN, which I personally have nothing against, except that it's full of foreigners, which of course is what did in your League of Nations." -Frank Burns, M*A*S*H

Same Old, Same New

"Okay, okay, so, as we all know, some things could'a gone better," said Thomas Drake with a shrug, looking around to his comrades that clustered throughout the room. They were back aboard the fleet, this time meeting on the Enterprise instead of the Apocalypse. A little variety never hurt anyone.

Each of the commanders had changed out of their armor and was now dressed in their typical casual clothing. An outsider (and quite a few of their subordinates) might have found it rather amusing that they all seemed to be wearing the same outfits in-perpetuity. Vir was in his bomber jacket and khakis, Solo in his vest, boots, and striped pants, Cooper in his own t-shirt and armored vest, the Chief in his armor, Kirk in his uniform, Quill in a t-shirt, boots, and long coat, Shepard in sweatpants and her N7 sweatshirt, Drake in his typical all-black coat, gloves, and boots, and Cain in full Commissarial garb. All in all… no change.

The nine were lounging around one of the Enterprise's meeting rooms. One of the ship's officers had apparently thought to provide food of some sort: there were a variety of snacks on a nearby table that kept variously and mysteriously disappearing. It seemed like no one was eating anything, but the level of food was gradually depleting, leaving everyone curious at how they managed to sneak something away but not see anyone else do it.

"Yes, it would have been nice to know there was a barracks directly in front of the utility shaft we came out of," drawled Shepard. Drake rolled his eyes in her general vicinity.

"I only provide the map," he replied. "I don't know what those idiots actually use the room for." He sighed. "So, yes, better overall planning and less rushing into things we might not fully know everything about."

"More time to think things through and plan them out, plus a more unified tactical decision, would be better," rumbled the Chief. Everyone turned to look at him. That was the first full, complex sentence he'd spoken at the meeting. It was still very bizarre to realize he was incredibly smart and always aware of everything going on. He just talked so little.

"Yup," replied Quill unbothered, cheerfully eating something that seemed to be similar to a biscuit.

"And, as we discussed," added Cooper, "If we're going to steal something, then we steal it, with the proper specialists and equipment. If we're going to attack something, then that's entirely different."

"Yeah," sighed Shepard. "I should have thought more about that before I said we should go in like we did." There was a slight silence. No one could think of anything more to say.

"Sooo… Anything else?" asked Vir.

"We didn't have much to do," said Kirk with a shrug and a slight upward teasing quirk of his lips.

"We know," replied Drake with an annoyed sigh, wheeling back to him. "We discussed this. We'll be using you, and all of us, a lot more in the future. We need to get everyone more involved if we want all of this to work," he said, turning to everyone else in the room. "What's more, we need to get all of our crews in more." Six heads nodded; the Chief and Cooper looked at each other, two individuals amongst a group of commanders.

"Agreed," replied Shepard with a nod. They did have to get everyone more involved. She was both apprehensive and quite interested in seeing her crew interact more with the others. There was a propensity for problems (heck, there was a propensity for problems among her crew of the same species from the same galaxy) but in the end, her curiosity won out. She wanted to see what they could all do together.

"Yep," said Kirk, nodding at Shepard, apparently thinking along the same lines.

"Captain Solo? Anything to add?" asked Drake. "You haven't said much this meeting." From where he leaned against a wall, arms crossed, Solo merely shrugged.

"Hey, I'm a pilot. When you need that sort of expertise, I'm here. Until then, I'll leave all the ground insanity to you guys," he replied.

"Fair enough," said Cooper with a chuckle. He turned over to the others. "So, is that it then? Anything else?"

"Not quite," replied Drake. His face became slightly more serious. "The biggest issue was and remains integration and learning about each other. The first mission was merely a means to that end. What remains is learning about each others' realities, as I said when we first met."

"Speaking of that meeting, when do we get paid?" asked Quill. There was a series of sighs.

"As soon as I turn in the box to the company that's paying for it," replied Drake. He looked around. "Some of you might not exactly have use for money in these terms like us mercenaries do, but I'm sure you can use it for something." He shrugged. "And, of course, if there's any issues either transferring currencies, making sure it's not taxed, or, of course, hiding it from certain governmental entities that might frown on you getting extra-galactic money… come see me," he added with a wink. A few of the others were nodding, considering. A few more looked vaguely concerned. "Anyway, as I was saying…"

"You were mentioning getting to know more about each other's realities," replied Solo, deadpan. Drake nodded and snapped his gloved fingers with an odd noise.

"Ah, so I was!" He began pacing, hands clasped as he thought, boots clicking on the deck. "What we need to do is actually understand where we all come from." He frowned, looking around the room. "There are a great many galaxies now, each with their own inhabitants and issues. Which, of course, you all know," he said, holding up a hand in case of any objections. "The main thing, though, is since we now exist in the same reality, actually getting to know not only each other, but our realities and the issues within, to better prepare ourselves for the future, and for when the groups of our realities meet at a larger scale."

There were a few murmurs as everyone took in what Drake was saying. He was correct; they all knew this from the beginning, which was why they were here in the first place. Each one had their own deadly enemies, and the thoughts of those were now flitting through each of the commander's minds.

Of course, there were also the factions each of them served. What would they think of this new reality? All of the commanders had to report back to them at some point. How would they react? What would happen? How powerful were each of the other new extra-galactic governments?

Where did they all stand?

"Yes," muttered Vir. "That's the most important thing. Finding out everything… well, about our new reality, and what's inside it." Everyone else nodded, frowning deep in thought.

"I think Commissar Cain and Admiral Vir had quite the good idea," said Drake. He looked around once more. "You two switched places." Both nodded. They'd informed the others of the… slight difficulties and their role in containing each other's forces. The other commanders had been quite relieved: Vir could control the Imperials, and Cain and the officers didn't actually want to kill them all. "If we did something of the same, as well as some missions with more of our crew and troops involved, I think that would go a long way to learning more about each other. Thoughts?"

There was a brief moment of silence as everyone mulled the idea over. Switching places? It was an interesting idea. It would certainly put most of them far outside their comfort zones and in positions they weren't very used to, which few of them found good… But, it would probably do exactly what happened with Cain and Vir. It would be beneficial for them to get to know each other and their realities more.

"I think it's a good idea," said Kirk slowly, looking around, tentatively seeking what the others thought. Shepard nodded.

"Yeah," she muttered, still lost in thought.

"How exactly would this work?" asked Cooper. He gestured towards Vir and Cain. "I mean, they already switched; are we going to switch them again? And what about us?" he continued, pointing to the Chief and himself. "We don't exactly have captaincies or men to command. We're all by ourselves."

"Good point," said Solo, throwing in his slight opinion. Judging by his posture and tone, he really didn't care either way.

"I think Cain and Vir stay the same, unless you want to switch further," replied Drake, sending a glance in the direction of the Admiral and Commissar. "As for the rest of us, if you want and only if you want, we can switch our commands. Chief and Cooper, you two are lucky, because you can go aboard any ship you want."

"I'll stay," said the Chief immediately. Everyone turned to stare at him. That wasn't like him at all. He merely shrugged in reply. "I'm still getting to know the Enterprise and its crew." Satisfied by the explanation, they turned over to Cooper.

"I suppose I'll stay where I am with BT," said the Pilot with a sigh. "Whoever's switching with Drake, or if Drake's staying… It doesn't matter to me. I look forward to getting to know you all better." A little compliment never hurt anyone.

"Well, I think we're settled then," said Vir, looking around. "We'll decide on who's switching with who, if they're switching, later. Anything else for this meeting?" Everyone shook their heads. There was nothing further to discuss.

"Very well, then," said Kirk. "I can beam you back, or you can take shuttles, if you prefer. Your choice. Other than that… It's been a pleasure working with you so far, and I look forward to seeing where it goes from here on out. Good first mission." With that, the meeting ended.

oOo

"Is there anything else we need to cover?" asked Spock crisply, gaze turning to settle on each individual standing within the room respectively.

It had been hours since the commanders' main meeting. They had all returned to their own vessels, mulling things over, and informed those that needed to be informed about… well, just about everything. Chief among those who needed to know were their various second-in-commands.

"I think we should review one more time," replied Miranda Lawson, arms crossed. Everyone else nodded. Spock pursed his lips in approval. Going over everything once more was good.

"Very well," he replied. He held up his list of notes they'd gone over. Around him, the various other second-in-commands looked at him expectantly, waiting. They were aboard the Normandy for a bit of variety and so no one vessel seemed greater, all transported there by the Enterprise.

Lawson was aboard the ship already, of course. She greeted them all curtly, professionally, and coldly as they came aboard, the epitome of no-nonsense clad in her skin-tight black and white jumpsuit and professional demeanor. Then there was Simon of the Omen, Vir's second, clad in her blue naval uniform. She was professional as well, though not cold: it almost seemed as if she was nervous among all of her fellows of the same rank, seeking not to look foolish in front of them.

Eric Richter, the Apocalypse's first officer, stood perpetually towards the wall, a rather tired and dour expression on his face. He was dressed in the typical gray jumpsuit uniforms of the vessel. His was not a look of grandeur, or military professionalism, but rather simpleness; the look of someone who always got the job done and wanted no thanks for doing it.

Then there was Spock, of course, always dignified in his blue jumpsuit. The last of those present here was Major Brocklaw of the Valhallan 597th. He wore the resplendent gray-blue uniform of Valhalla, seemingly forever adorned with a plethora of gold lace and Imperial eagles. Of the other two groups, neither Gamora nor Chewbacca were present. With fewer individuals, apparently their commands decided they did not need to be here, which did make sense. It certainly seemed that Brocklaw was grateful for only humans at the meeting, though he did occasionally glance towards Spock's ears with a frown.

"As it stands, our fleet is in your galaxy, Richter," Spock turned and gave the man a courtesy nod, "Ready and waiting for whatever our commanders decide." This was met with a series of nods from around the room. "At the present moment, we have enough supplies to last us a while, though I do encourage Lieutenant Simon and Major Brocklaw to keep precise tallies, as you share a ship and will thus use up the most." The first officer of the Omen and Valhallan 597th respectively gave their nods to Spock. "Our doctors are meeting to make sure everything will be alright in the medical field. Other than that, we wait for where we are to go next."

"Hopefully we won't be doing something incredibly idiotic," muttered Simon. A few of the others snickered or made noises of agreement. Spock raised an eyebrow; it was his version of being rather amused.

"Indeed," he stated simply in reply. "I can think of quite a few instances when Captain Kirk and… human impulsiveness have put us in some rather interesting predicaments."

"Tell me about it," snorted Lawson. She cocked a (this time, truly amused) eyebrow above her crossed arms. "I'm fairly certain impulsive is Commander Shepard's middle name." The other seconds nodded in agreement.

"Well, it seems all of you have something that I lack," said Brocklaw. He too looked rather amused at his fellows' complaints, a large grin on his pale face. "Colonel Kasteen and Commissar Cain are most certainly not… impulsive." Richter rolled his eyes.

"You should be quite thankful for that, then," he replied. "The things that Captain Drake gets up to…" He shook his head in exasperation.

"I suppose I should be, judging from all of your reactions," replied Brocklaw. Simon nodded emphatically.

"Oh, you don't know the worst of it," she sighed. "Vir is a wonderful officer and commander, but he has a tendency to just… do things." Another sigh. "The worst is when he finds new planets. He has to go down and explore them, then he has to find out all the local fauna, and maybe keep some of them…" She trailed off, shaking her head.

"My Captain does much the same," replied Spock, voice deadpan as always. "Unfortunately, he's often helped along by the medical officer, who, as a medical officer, really should know better." He shook his head again. "Humans." To be perfectly honest, that was probably the most emotion any of them had ever heard from the man, and the only move past 'deadpan' was the slight emphasis on the word 'really'. It was quite surprising, actually.

It was just as surprising that Brocklaw seemed completely unphased by the slightly unfavorable impression of humans. Either he was one of the less intense Imperials, good at keeping things to himself, or had really come a long way since the convergence of their groups. Perhaps all three, actually.

"Oh that's tame." Richter added in his own opinion on the matter. "The things Drake gets up to…" He shook his head once more as he repeated the phrase. "It is part of the job, but it's rather exasperating when one has to drag one's captain out of a full-scale planetary civil war that he started. And that's not even close to the crazier things he's done," said Richter to the others, interested and wide-eyed.

"That sounds like something Shepard would do," muttered Lawson with a sigh. "I'm honestly just surprised she hasn't done so already."

"So… What's the craziest thing your commander has ever done?" asked Simon, curious and rather amused at how the turn of this conversation was going. All of the other second-in-commands looked at each other, intrigued. Now this was something they were all experts in. Oh, yes, they might have been good at science or logistics or military strategy or the multitudes of skills necessary to be a second-in-command, but this… This was where their true expertise lay: exasperation over their rather impulsive commanders doing rather impulsive things.

"Okay, okay, I'll start," said Richter, actually stepping forwards from his position against the wall. "Top this. Let me tell you about the time Drake had us teleport inside an enemy supercarrier…"

The rest of the meeting was spent discussing the various idiotic things each of their commanders did, each trying to outdo the next. Through it all, even though they had never truly met each other before, a strange sense of camaraderie through shared experiences filled the room. Sometimes, idiot commanders would just do that to a group.

oOo

The meeting of the doctors was aboard the Omen, another bit of variety simply for the sake of variety. It was perhaps the most important meeting, considering that it had to do with the continued well-being, safety, and general alive-ness of the crews involved. Not, of course, that those involved with this particular meeting actually thought their respective crews, groups, and regiments would actually appreciate their efforts to keep them alive and healthy, but… oh well. It was what it was.

Of the ships and groups that actually had doctors and medics, all were present. Kril, the small insectoid chief medical officer of the Omen, and his human assistant Katie, were both there, the former silently fretting over every minute detail and the latter simply watching in amusement. McCoy of the Enterprise stood in his tight blue Starfleet uniform, observing the foreign medical equipment in the bay with silent interest.

Doctor Chakwas of the Normandy stood in her own black and white jumpsuit uniform. She was getting to the midpoint of the human lifespan, once-uniform black hair now gray, but her face remained alert as ever. Her hands were clasped behind her back, posture straight, a sea of perpetual calmness against whatever chaos she might have to face.

Then there was Johanass Kraiker, the Apocalypse's chief medic. He wore a long white medical coat and black pants, the continual style of human doctors everywhere. He looked as if he would have come from somewhere in East Asia if he were from Earth; but he very bluntly did not, as judged by the symbols of a very different galactic government than the one that ran Earth from his home galaxy and his speech, which was a strange, clipped, and elegant blend of old-fashioned German and English accents.

Lastly, there were a few Valhallan medics from the various companies of the 597th. They were each dressed in the gray-blue uniforms, faces snowy pale as they gathered together. As a group, they understood they were far outclassed by everyone else here. Each other individual present was a master doctor and surgeon: they were merely medics that served the 597th to the best of their abilities.

This was the extent and totality of the master doctors from each faction. There might have been a few other lesser doctors that served beneath them, and a few other Valhallan medics, but apart from the aforementioned, there was no one else. Cooper and the Chief were not doctors, and the Milano and Millennium Falcon did not possess any.

"I believe the first order of business should be blood," began Kraiker, looking to everyone else, clearly unafraid to break what amounted to silence in the room. "As all of our teams are combat operatives, trauma wounds are the order, and thus we need blood to replace what's been lost. Of course, blood transfusions will not work cross-species. Do we each have enough to replace what's been lost in case of emergencies for everyone for each of our groups?" he asked. "Which brings us to our second question: is it safe for humans of each group to share blood transfusions? While the majority of us are humans, we each come from different realities. Are the differences enough, due to time or planet of origin, that would result in catastrophe?"

There was some muttering at this. Of course, they'd all thought of both this question and countless others. All of them were in new territory, and they had to play it very safe, otherwise those they were entrusted to care for would suffer.

"We would have to run tests," replied McCoy, "Though the question is quite interesting. In fact, it could probably become an area of study: the differences between each group, subtle or not." He shrugged. "That is, of course, if they even exist in the first place."

"We could start a blood drive," offered Chakwas. "Take everyone's blood just to make sure, then measure if we are actually transferable."

"That's a good idea," replied Katie with a nod towards the older woman.

"We should also do it because we need blood, and because we don't know for certain if humans of different realities are cross-transferable," added Kril. He crossed his arms, a very strange and distinctly human gesture for an insectoid, and seemed to so a Vrul equivalent of frowning. "I will absolutely not use anyone's blood who isn't from our reality on the Omen's patients unless we know for sure, and even then…" He trailed off, muttering to himself. He looked up shortly. "Then there's also the issue of diseases." Another frown. "We don't know the diseases of each other's realities! We could already be infecting each other with all sorts of things! How do we know for certain how any of this works? It's a miracle that no one's gotten sick already!"

"I think we should definitely share whatever we can with each other," said McCoy, interrupting Kril's rant. He looked around at his peers. "That would include vaccinations and lists of those vaccinations, ailments…" He trailed off, suddenly finding himself at a topic that might be more uncomfortable. "And, er… Exactly what are we willing to share with each other in regards to medicine and medical technology?" There was an uncomfortable pause.

The issue was, of course, that each reality had different medical technology. While the point of medicine was to save lives, such technology was still a strategic advantage. To simply give it up to another group was to lose that advantage in medicine you might have over others. There was also the added complication that all medical technology had to be created by someone, and someone, be it government, individual, or company, might not approve of their inventions being shared. In fact, for some governments, it might be downright illegal.

Yes, everyone here was a doctor, their goal and oath was to save lives. McCoy, for one, had no issue sharing medical innovations with his comrades. However, what was their opinion on the idea? More importantly, how were they perhaps constrained by the law of where they came from in this new and entirely unique situation?

"I have no issue giving anything to any of you," said Kraiker shortly. "Whatever you want or need is yours." That seemed to break the ice. There were nods of thanks in his direction.

"I as well," added Chakwas. She gave a slight frown. "There might be some that disapprove of giving medigel to all of our galaxies, but I am not one. If it saves lives, then it's worth it."

"Of course we have no issue sharing what we know," replied Kril. He seemed to shudder. "With all you humans always seeming bound and determined to hurt yourselves, it's a wonder your species hasn't been wiped to extinction by now. You need as much help as you can get, considering your lack of any sort of survival instinct." Katie rolled her eyes, amused, behind Kril. McCoy gave a smile. He'd heard as much from Spock many a time.

"So, it seems we're largely settled," he said, glancing at the Valhallans. He didn't want to push them past anything they wanted. At the present moment, the Imperial medics were whispering among each other, seemingly trying to come to some sort of conclusion. Eventually, they seemed to reach it. One stepped forward.

"We agree with everything," he said shortly. "We need to make sure no one gets sick or injured due to inter-galactic differences. We'll share what medicine we have." He glanced around. "I don't know exactly what you have technology-wise, but all we have is the basics." This was accompanied by a shrug. "Medicine for illnesses, bandages, splints, blood plasma…" He trailed off. "I guess it's everything you'd need. However," he continued, "The real advanced medical technology, the likes of which I think we're discussing, falls under the purview and the ownership of the Adeptus Mechanicus."

"What exactly do you mean by that? What's the difference?" asked Katie, curious. The Valhallan medic shrugged once more.

"Like I said, we have basic medicine. Things like advanced cybernetics, healing super drugs, gene technology… That all belongs to the Mechanicus. What I'm trying to say is our more advanced and unique medical technology belongs to the Mechanicus, and they guard it jealously. So if you're looking for more advanced things, then we don't have them."

"Well, that seems fair enough," replied McCoy. Trust the Imperial system to make no sense to him. At least the Imperials were cooperating to the fullest of their abilities. "So, that's technology, blood, vaccinations, and possible illnesses down. Is there anything else?"

"We'll have to get the others to cooperate with us," replied Kraiker. "The Millennium Falcon, the Milano, and the Chief and Cooper will have to all fall under our purview for illness, innoculations, and making sure there's no cross-contamination and the like."

"They shouldn't be too hard to convince," added Chakwas shortly. "They might complain, as all of our patients do, but we'll be able to make sure there aren't any issues there." There were a few slight chuckles. It did seem complaining, whiny patients were a constant among each reality. "However, there is one problem among them. What about the Master Chief? He's clearly a super-soldier of some sort. What makes him different? How do we treat him? We've never even seen him outside his armor, let alone what makes him so large and unique."

The doctors frowned. That was a problem.

"The question is if he's actually going to take off his armor, let alone let us work on him," replied McCoy.

"Well, there's only one way to find out," replied Kraiker, voice unperturbed and uncaring. "We'll have to ask him." He shrugged. "There's not much we can do to force him to do anything at all, and if he doesn't ever want to come out of his armor… His loss," he finished with a shrug.

It might have sounded a bit cruel for a doctor, but there wasn't really anything else they could do, on reflection. While McCoy and the other doctors most certainly didn't like it, Kraiker was right. There wasn't anything they could do to force a super-soldier to do anything.

"I suppose that concludes it, then," said Chakwas, looking at her colleagues. "We'll prepare all of the information we can get our hands on, then we'll have another meeting where we'll share it." A series of nods greeted her. "If there aren't any other concerns, then I think that's it."

"One last thing…" said Katie, stepping forward. All the eyes in the room turned to her. She flashed a sudden wicked grin. "What's the strangest thing your group's done that you've had to fix?" Almost as one, everyone groaned, remembering their own very specific incidents.

"Oh, don't even get me started…"

oOo

"It seems they're moving forward in quite a few areas," observed EDI to her two companions.

The three A.I.s continued to constantly interact with each other. There was little else for them to do at the present moment besides speak amongst themselves and constantly analyze all of the information gathered from the new and different galaxies. Of course, the latter was important and quite interesting (and made up a large topic of conversation among them), but each of them had a lot of processing power. Besides, it was nice to have the company of your own kind after being bereft of it for so long.

"That it does," agreed Cortana. She idly had what seemed to be a chess match playing next to her; it was something of an odd quirk. Cortana had a lot of processing power, and even when her physical 'attention' was focused completely on someone or something, she often had visible background tasks running beside her. "They all seem to be more comfortable around each other. Even the Chief." She gave a small grin and shake of her head at her charge's lack of comfort around other organics. "It also seems like they're all wise enough to meet and figure out what they need to do next."

"Their tactical planning is sound," added BT, voice a much deeper rumble than his two companions. "In the future, I believe they will be able to execute large-scale operations with little difficulty. By my calculations, they are some of the most dangerous groups and individuals within their respective galaxies. They are a force to be reckoned with."

"Definitely," replied Cortana. "That much is certainly true." She looked at her two companions. "The remaining question is what else can we do for them? And, of course, when should we fully reveal ourselves to everyone within the fleet?" She had her own ideas and timetables for such events, but it was only polite to ask. Besides, her companions might have some good ideas. They might not necessarily be on exactly the same level she was, but they were still both quite intelligent.

"I will be certain to add my help to the analysis of any medical procedures Doctors Solus and Chakwas need," said EDI.

"My expertise is not in the field of medicine." BT seemed to frown, even though neither his physical nor digital bodies were capable of the expression. "If I am asked for any sort of tactical expertise, then I will lend it. If not, then there is not much else I can do besides lend my computing and analysis power to any problem at hand." He looked to the others again. "As for the question of if and when we should reveal ourselves, it should most likely be one by one. We have already informed the Chief of our existence. The next most likely candidate is my Pilot, as he is already familiar with me and has some idea that there are other A.I.s aboard other vessels." Cortana nodded.

"Sounds like a plan!" she replied chipperly. She looked at the others. "So that's our goal, then. Help in whatever way we can in the present time while we gradually reveal ourselves to the fleet as a whole. Meanwhile," she smiled, "We can continue our conversations on whatever topics we so chose."

"Excellent," said EDI approvingly.

"Very well," agreed BT. The three A.I.s, content with their plan, continued on their way, analyzing various tidbits of interesting information and discussing human philosophy.

oOo

He was currently floating outside the ship, simply because he couldn't stand being inside. The whispery white, ghostly body of the bizarre Starborn alien form was suited to the void, rather than to the pressure and gravity of either planets or the vessels those planets created. However, this particular Starborn, known to the other beings of the crew as 'Conn', had been rigged with something of an environmental suit by the engineers of the Omen so he was able to float freely throughout the pressurized atmosphere of the ship. He didn't have to be outside in space, even though that was his natural habitat.

In fact, Conn rather enjoyed being aboard the ship. Starborn were not only naturally adapted to the cold void of space, but also natural telepaths. Their form of communication was to read the minds of others.

Conn never quite liked having other Starborn reading his mind. In fact, he rather hated it. That was why he was with the humans and other aliens aboard the Omen. That, and the fact Admiral Vir had saved him from terrible punishment at the hands of his people. Conn and his fellow Starborn did not get along: he was individualistic, something that did not bode well among his species.

Of course, the third reason he loved being aboard the ship was rather hypocritical, if Conn reflected on it (which he tried not to do). He loved reading the minds of others who couldn't read his in return. He enjoyed being… well, something of a jerk and prankster to those aboard. It was fun.

They couldn't read his mind, though. Admiral Vir was the only one who could actually communicate with him, thanks to the human's head injury that took his eye. Of course, Conn had to actually open a two-way between them: no human was actually telepathic.

But, yes, regardless, Conn could often be found wandering the halls of the Omen, generally being annoying to the crew or simply observing, fascinated by the variety of habits of species that were completely foreign to one born in space instead of atmosphere.

Back to the present moment, though. Conn was now outside the ship, back in his natural habitat, because he couldn't stand being inside.

There was a presence there now. A terrible, horrible, malign presence. It was a thousand nails on endless chalkboards, countless insects crawling up and down his spine, infesting him; eternal poundings through his head like the worst migraines in the world, never allowing him to speak, to think, but only to scream. He was choked, desperate, and he could do nothing but suffer.

The presence wasn't there before. It had come with the Valhallans, and started as soon as they came aboard the ship. That was why he was outside now: he had to get as far away from him as possible. He could still feel the horrible scraping on the edges of his mind even in space, but it was manageable now. He could think. He still couldn't read minds, but he could think. At the very least, that was something.

He knew what, or, rather who was causing this. He knew, but couldn't do anything about it. So he simply sat out here, in his friendly endless black, unable to communicate with anyone because his only method of communication had been cut off. He snorted to himself. Ironic. This must be what humans felt like all the time.

The largest question was, of course, what was he going to do? He couldn't live like this forever. But it seemed like he was stuck out here, endlessly suffering at the hands of that terrible man, the Commissar's aide. He wasn't even sure if the man knew what he was doing. All he did know was that he couldn't go on like this forever.

oOo

There we have it! I hope you all enjoyed. This was more of a filler chapter, so there's a lot more interesting stuff coming up in the next two. I'm quite looking forward to them.

A quick word on the last scene... Conn hasn't shown before, though he is in the Codex. The issue is that he and a few other... uniquely powered individuals within the Scoundrels' fleet might have issues with a certain other uniquely powered individual, simply by their dueling natures...

Anyway, again, I hope you liked the story! There's more to come, and it's going to be quite interesting! As per usual, I always appreciate any comments, concerns, criticisms, questions, and reviews!