Remnants

by General Rage

From Halo's ashes, a mismatched Alliance is born. UNSC soldiers now serve alongside both Batarian deserters and shifty Jackal Space Pirates. Now Shepard and Master Chief have to keep these strange bedfellows from killing one another before they can stop an emergent new threat to the galaxy. The Next Swashbuckling Chapter of the Wormhole Chronicles.

7. Rough Waters Ahead

Chapter Six: Rough Waters Ahead

Life is a Disease, the Only Cure is Rock n Roll

-Anonymous

It was the early hours before the end of the sleep cycle for the barracks. Kowalski was sound asleep, expecting his dreams to be interrupted by Sergeant Johnson forcing everyone awake. Sleeping without a cryopod on a spaceship had taken some getting used to. The overcrowded conditions of the Autumn had forced the issue though, and he had eased into it. It was just like at boot camp again, also fewer weird dreams. That was sort of a loss, but oh well. At least waking up wasn't much different, it was just as sudden. This morning though, the wake up call was unexpected. For Kowalski found his slumber broken, not by Sergeant Johnson's shouting, but someone screaming accompanied by a guitar riff.

I WANNA ROCK!

Kowalski jumped up with a start, hitting his head on the makeshift bunk above his head. He stumbled out of the covers, his head ringing, collapsing to the floor in confusion. As he slowly came to his senses, the ear splitting noise of old rock n' roll music kept screeching at him. He soon found he wasn't the only one surprised by the sudden impromptu morning concert, other Marines and Army Soldiers were startled from their own beds. While not all of them had been as surprised as he was, they all looked just as confused. There was a strange disembodied voice screaming loudly, echoing through the enclosed room, declaring his desire to rock.

"What in the hell?" Asked one soldier.

"Where's it coming from?" A Marine questioned, trying to dig into his ears with a finger.

"I think the intercom system," another Marine pointed upward, while trying to block his own ears.

While they and others chattered, Kowalski could hear the singer continue.

Turn it down you say

But all I got to say to you is time and time again I say No!

No! No! No!

Tell me not to play

Well, all I got to say to when you tell me not to play I say No!

No! No! No!

As Kowalski finally managed to regain his composure, he could see a distinct divide among the room. Some were confused, but not outright disapproving of the music. Other were more sensitive to loud noises and held their hands over their ears. The intercom was after all blasting the damn stuff, whatever it was. In the confines of their bunkroom, it was incredibly loud.

"Cut the intercom!" Someone shouted "For the love of fuck! I can barely hear myself think!"

"Hey come, on," said another, who Kowalski soon identified as Ellingham amidst the chaos. "It's not that bad."

Kowalski walked over to his friend, now standing in the middle of the room nearby. Agley was with him, a bit jumpier than usual. Like most people, he was just trying to figure out what was going on. Of course, his mind went to some more sinister places.

"What if it's some kind of Covie psych warfare," he asked. "Maybe the ship's AI survived Cortana and it's trying to freak us out!"

"Don't be ridiculous," Ellingham said, elbowing him. "The singer is clearly human. Why would the Covenant have human song files on board their ship."

"Well, all their AIs are stolen from us right?" Agley reminded him. "Maybe they found one that had the song uploaded to it."

"Calm down, Agley," Kowalski told him, motioning his hands downward. "I'm sure Cortana isn't one to leave jobs half finished. That AI is dead, there's probably a more likely explanation."

That was when the music got cut off. There were some audible groans of displeasure from half the room, but they were soon silenced by one of the Army Non-Coms over at a control board near the door.

"Quiet down, boys," he shouted. "This is a warship, it ain't a concert hall. Now someone get on the radio to Holland and tell him about this. We need to-"

"Hey!" Shouted one of the Marines suddenly, holding up a headset. "It's playing on one of our secure channels!"

"What!?" The Sergeant growled loudly.

Other Soldiers and Marines, Kowalski included, turned on their own comm-links and found that it was the truth. On a secure channel, not in regular use but still open to them, the music kept playing. It wasn't just intercom, someone was transmitting something through their comm channels. Eager to solve the mystery, but with no desire to go deaf, a few of the enlisted men lugged over a radio kit to one of the tables. Fellow curious Marines and Troopers gathered round as they tuned to the signal and caught the tail end of the song. That was when the culprit was revealed, announcing himself for everyone to hear.

"Hey everyone out there in this little Fleet of ours, you are listening to BBR, Buzzard Buccaneer Radio! The only Kig-Yar Pirate Rock Station in the known Galaxy! I'm your Rock God DJ, Boz the Buzzard, coming to you live from the Den of Rock, the infamous Fallen Serpent! Home of the baddest band of brigands in this big wide black void we call space!"

"Fucking Jackals," groaned one of the Marines. "We should've known!"

Now that he thought about it, Kowalski supposed it should've been obvious. Who else would stir up this kind of trouble? He couldn't imagine Commander Shepard or even the Batarians doing something like this. No, if anyone would decide to start screaming old rock tunes from centuries past, it would be the friggin space pirates.

"You fine people were just listening to the sounds of Twisted Sister, a human group from way back in the 20th, and their awesome single, I Wanna Rock. Boy did they ever!" Boz declared happily to his listeners."We got plenty more coming up from them within the hour, but first, I wanna introduce you all to some friends of mine. Now, I know us kig-yar haven't had the best relationship with religious types. But I think it's safe to say, that if Priests were like this back in the Covenant, we probably wouldn't have been so quick to stick a plasma torpedo up their asses! This is Judas Priest, 'Hell Bent for Leather' on the number one Pirate Radio Station, BBR!"

And with that, a new song began and everyone was left with a mixture of confusion, bewilderment and maybe just a little anger among some.

"The fuck are they doing?" Demanded one Marine.

"Playing music apparently," Ellingham said shrugging. "Super old music, sure, but it doesn't sound half bad."

"This is just more proof these crazy birds don't take this shit seriously," growled one of the Troopers. "We're out here, who knows how many lightyears from Earth, and they're blasting fucking ancient rock songs through our damn comm channels! It's like one big fucking party to them!"

"The hell is this ruckus!"

Everyone looked and stood at attention, you did that when Sergeant Avery Johnson walked into the room. He was chomping on a cigar, glaring at everyone. He marched over to the radio, placing his fists on his hips as he eyed it and listened to the "Judas Priest" band that was currently playing. He perched an eyebrow at it and turned to Kowalski.

"Where the hell did you get this, Private?" He demanded.

"We didn't, sir," Kowalski swore attentively. "We picked it up on the intercom. The Jackals are transmitting it over one of our comm channels. It's some kind of... pirate radio station."

Johnson's glare strangely turned to one of bemusement. He took the cigar out of his mouth, looked to the radio then back to Kowalski, soaking it all in.

"Really?" He asked, seemingly intrigued now. "Well, ain't that a development."

Johnson looked to one of the Marines.

"Dubbo, get down to Haverson and report this to him directly," he ordered.

"Right away, Sarge," the Private answered in an Australian accent before taking off.

Johnson then pulled up a chair and sat down next to the table where the radio sat. As he put up his feet, laid his head back and placed the cigar back in his mouth, he seemed to be settling in. Then he glared at the other Marines.

"Well, what are you gawking at?" He demanded to know. "Turn it up!"

Ellingham shrugged and did what the Sergeant said. Johnson seemed to relax as the song started blasting. He had every intention of enjoying this for as long as he could it seemed.

---

Zek glared at the screen in his private quarters, shaking his head in despair at what he was watching. How could anyone enjoy this, he thought. It was one of the saddest, most depressing displays one could sit through. A two hour funeral march starring a man who didn't even seem to know what was coming. Worse yet, it seemed like you were supposed to be supporting it without question. It made him want to wretch.

"Oh Falstaff, you stupid lovable bastard," he bemoaned. "He's gonna fucking stab you in the back, man! He's practically telegraphing it to you! Admitting it even! Right to your face! Get out while you can!"

As he was yelling at the holoscreen, both Shepard and Haverson were led into the room by Retz. He looked to them briefly, waving them over to his sitting area. He then returned to the screen, continuing to glower at it.

"Shepard, welcome back," he greeted the two. "And a good morning to you, Lieutenant. Didn't think you'd want to be aboard my ship so soon."

"Neither did I," Haverson said grumbling. "But we have matters to discuss."

"You're damn straight we do," Zek wholeheartedly agreed. "Just take a look at this."

Shepard and Haverson looked to the holoscreen where Zek was pointing. On it they saw turian actors performing a production of a play. The dress code and time period were clearly different, but the dialogue of the portly turian made it clear what it was.

"What is honour? A word. What is in that word honour? What is that honour? Air. A trim reckoning! Who hath it? He that died o' Wednesday."

Shepard instantly recalled the play, Henry IV as re-enacted by the Palaven Players to take place during the Unification Wars instead of Medieval England. No doubt it was among the other vids from the file Retz had stolen. What was curious, was that Zek had suddenly flipped from silly genre films to the classics in the span of a day.

"Shakespeare, huh?" Shepard asked. "I honestly thought you'd be watching more sea monster movies after Jaws."

"I kinda got sidetracked," Zek begrudgingly admitted. "I wanted to find some romance vids, personal reasons mostly, and the guy who wrote this had a ton of those. So I put on Romeo & Juliet. Big mistake, as I eventually found out. Seriously, guys, this was one of humanity's greatest storytellers? I think you need to change that codex of yours, Shepard."

"I'm not much of a literary critic," Haverson interjected. "And something tells me I'm going to regret this, but I'm curious, what's wrong with Shakespeare?"

Zek paused the screen and sat up straight in his chair to look Haverson dead in the eye.

"He's terrible! Worse, he's probably a sadist!" Zek argued loudly. "Honestly, in Romeo and Juliet, what were those families fighting about anyway? It was never really clear. Was it money? Someone kill someone? And regardless of the reason, it all seemed so fucking petty."

"I kinda think that was sorta the point," Haverson suggested.

"Well if stupidity was the point, mission accomplished," Zek declared. "The two most powerful families in the city wasting their time with a petty squabble over nothing. They wasted valuable resources, time and energy bickering like fledglings over table scraps. They could've easily combined their forces through a mating ceremony between their two kids. They wanted it bad enough. Worse yet, we go through all that struggle and the two kids kill themselves! What kind of love story is that? They should've fled the city, become bandits, fucked the system. Instead they kill each other because, what, they couldn't think of better options? Even faking their deaths would've been better than that!"

"They're teenagers," Shepard countered plainly. "They don't usually plan that far ahead."

"Me and Retz did when we were teens," Zek replied with a huff. "You have to think ahead, it's the only way to get ahead. I'm getting the impression human kids are just fucking stupid."

A lot of people would probably agree with Zek on that, but Shepard wasn't about to voice that. Especially when it looked like the Jackal Pirate was on the cusp of a rant. Best to let him get it all out.

"I actually tried to give your Shakey a pass on that," he continued grunting. "I figure, everyone has a bad story now and then. But no, play after play, just the most depressing, depraved, badly written shit, even by my standards. Titus was loaded with senseless gore for one. I half expected a blood orgy to break out. Not to mention a father who kills his daughter the second it's confirmed she was raped. Who does that to their kid? What? Is she broken because some bastards forced themselves on her? Gotta kill her now because if she ain't a virgin she isn't worth having around?"

"He did kill her rapists as I recall," Haverson noted.

"Oh, should I give him a medal then?" Zek asked sardonically, before he tone returned to a more accusatory stance. "He fed them to their mother, how fun. Not that she didn't deserve it, but he went and killed his daughter anyway! The only character in the play, mind you, that wasn't a freaking asshole. I don't mean to sound prudish here, I don't shy away from violence, but it has to have a wider purpose. Honor killings and vendettas are what the sangheili do. It was basically a whole story about some dipshit who shot himself in the foot because he's an idiot and then murders everyone in a needlessly violent bloodbath. There was no style to that revenge plot, nothing subtle about it. If Titus was a better character he would've gotten them to kill each other and he also wouldn't have murdered his own flesh and blood in the process. As it stands he's just a sangheili with a jiralhanae mindset. Boring."

Shepard hadn't expected that kind of reaction from Zek in regards to the violence. He seemed to have liked the Gremlins and their rampage well enough. Giving it more thought, Shepard supposed the chaos the Gremlins represented was different from the more ordered violence and extreme cruelty that were on display in Titus Andronicus. Shakespeare had made that play specifically to appeal to the lower classes with it's emphasis on shock value. From what he was getting though, the politics involved in the story had turned Zek off from the violence this time. The mindless destruction of the Gremlins was something to revel in, Titus' honor based bloody revenge was just something he couldn't seem to get behind.

"And on the subject of revenge, Hamlet," Zek continued, still fuming. "What a shit show that was. It was like an inept comedy, but at some point it became less funny and just sad. Seriously, we watch this whiny little bastard basically complain for hours about how he wishes he were dead essentially. It takes him for-fucking-ever to actually get his revenge plot into motion and he totally fucks it up! It's the biggest anti-climax I've ever seen! The only thing more disappointing was that Midsummer's Night thing. You go in, expecting these horny kids to get into a massive drugged out orgy, and they fumble around for the next hour or so resisting the primal urge! Then, almost as if they expected you to be pissed, they have Puck, the only fun character in the whole ordeal by the way, come out and practically beg you to forgive them for their shit story."

"You watched all of these?" Haverson asked curiously.

"I had a lot of free time after that shit went down on the Hollow," he answered quickly, returning the subject at hand without skipping a beat. "I haven't even gotten to the worst offenses. Taming of the Shrew almost took the cake on being the most disgusting thing of the night. You basically watch some douchebag who doesn't know the importance of a strong female and teaches her to be this meek, mild, plaything to show off to people. Do you have any idea how absolutely appalling that is? If it weren't for the females, our society would have no direction at all. The codes and guidelines we live by would be utterly useless. But apparently in Shakey's time, being a female was basically a crime in of itself. I swear, if the asshole in that play had tried any of that shit with our women, well, he'd be floating face down in a body of water by morning, if not spaced altogether."

Shepard wasn't too surprised by his opinion of that play. Everything he knew about Jackals suggested they had a matriarchal society. A lot like the salarians, except their females weren't considered delicate or too valuable to risk. If Taq was any indication, they were as tough, vicious and hungry for profit as any male in their species. He struggled though to think what Zek would find worse than Shakespearian Sexism. Then it became obvious.

"That was before I saw Merchant of Venice though," the pirate declared, speaking the title with almost venomous hatred. "What an absolutely dreadful piece of work."

"Appalling in so many ways, sir," Retz spoke up in agreement. "If I could, I'd have reached through the screen to throttle the so-called protagonists myself."

It didn't take much thinking for Shepard to guess why Zek would probably hate that particular play. Zek confirmed his hypothesis almost immediately.

"It just seemed to revel in it's absolute deplorable behavior," the pirate exclaimed. "They cheated an honest businessman out of his well-deserved payment. And how? Not by any true gamesmanship, but by rigging the system against him! Putting some friend of the accused as the judge, in disguise no less, just so she could use a bunch of nonsense legal jargon to completely fuck over this poor guy. He was rightly owed that pound of flesh! If they couldn't pay him back than they shouldn't have tried to make a deal with that kind of stipulation! And then, as if they hadn't gotten enough of their jollies from ripping the guy off from the money he was owed fair and square, they threaten to kill him unless he converts to their stupid religion! These assholes are the heroes? The fuck kind of messed-up morality is that?"

"This is exactly why we don't have justice systems like that," Retz added, seemingly equally angry at the memory of the scene. "They give too many people the ability to cheat others out of contracts they agreed to. If they wanted to avoid paying him their flesh so bad, they should've come up with a scheme to get the money back in time. It's not worth playing the game if you're not being fair. Using a damn court-based legal system is one thing, rigging said court in your favor is even worse. It's despicable, downright un-sporting in fact."

"And they spent so much time trying to make us hate the guy too," Zek continued, still in a rage. "Seriously, what the fuck did he do? Being good with money and being an honest businessman is a crime now? Fuck those people, they treated him like scum for a fucking contract they themselves signed! They should be fucking grateful for the fucking loan in the first place!"

Shepard briefly wondered if he really should start explaining the long history of Anti-Semitism on Earth. About how the character was a Jew and how they were viewed as greedy and corrupt in Shakespeare's time. However, he decided against it. Not only would it be way too much time spent on something Zek probably wouldn't understand anyway, it probably wouldn't do much to change his opinion on the play. Hell, Shepard had to admit he didn't like that one much himself for similar reasons.

Given Zek's history, it made a lot of sense he took issue with 'Merchant of Venice' in particular. After all, he had been forced to join a religion against his will too. The play had no doubt churned up some pretty bad memories. Zek's sympathies clearly lied more with the people Shakespeare counted as villains and rogues. A pattern that wasn't lost on Haverson either.

"I'm assuming you have a problem with Henry IV Part One on similar lines," the Lieutenant asked, looking briefly at the holoscreen and the frozen image of the turian playing Falstaff.

"You're a smart man, Haverson," Zek said appreciatively. "It's almost exactly the same problem. This Hal guy, he joins these common rogues, makes friends with Falstaff here and spends the entire fucking production basically laying out how he's going to fuck the poor guy over. And why? So he can step over him and claim the crown while looking like a fucking big shot!"

"You have a problem with backstabbing now?" Haverson asked.

"I have a problem with telegraphing it so clearly to a man's face, basically admitting he's there to use him as a stepping stone for his rise to power," Zek clarified righteously. "It's like watching a snuff film! I'm looking at a man who thinks this guy is his friend and he just doesn't get that he's about to be betrayed so this dipshit pretender can make himself look better! I'm supposed to be looking forward to that? It's horrible! Absolutely horrible! Falstaff let him in, showed him the ropes, basically did everything for him and he's about to throw him to the wolves when he gets on the throne. Trust is a valuable commodity among the kig-yar, we do not hand it out lightly. The fact Falstaff trusts and believes in his friend so completely here, follows him everywhere, does what he says, and Hal never wavers in his plan to clearly fuck him over is a disgrace!"

"Your friends and crew should never be treated as such without due cause," Retz explained further, his tone icy and cold. "Betrayal is one thing if it comes from changes in the wind. Approaching others with the full intent of destroying them later, never sharing in the spoils of your victory, is downright low. It's bad business, it's bad form, it's not how the game is played."

"If Shakespeare was a Shipmaster, he'd have found himself on the other end of an airlock before too long," Zek concluded, a similar icy glare as he spoke. "Hell, he'd be lucky if they didn't just maroon him on a planet full of vicious animals. The fact he endorses this kind of behavior is proof enough of his skewed logic and shitty ethics. Truly, he came from a very barbaric time in your history. You'd be better off if you discarded his wretched works entirely."

This had not been how Shepard had thought this conversation would go. Zek did not strike him at first as a theater critic after all. His tirades against the Bard were not without some interesting insight into the Jackal mind-set though. If nothing else it showed that, despite their reputation, there were some guidelines to how the species conducted themselves. However, it was completely off track from their real purpose here.

"As lovely as this conversation on theater has been, it's not why we came here," Haverson informed the pirate. "It's about one of your crewmates, Boz the Buzzard to be precise."

Zek angered expression suddenly changed, his thoughts of the Bard vanishing near instantly. In their place was joyful smile and a slight glow of admiration in his voice.

"Ah yes, Boz," he recalled fondly. "Nice kid, adventurous spirit, loves the action, not the best fighter though. Mostly just wanted a change of location. Big music junkie, crew was always catching him singing to himself in communications. Hard worker though, knows his way around the comm-channels."

"And now he's running his own radio show on our secure frequencies," Haverson added, not sounding as enthusiastic about the situation. "I'm guessing you authorized that."

"You wanted inter-ship communications to be more open, this was my way of accomplishing that," Zek answered, for once not trying to deny anything. "If you're not big on his music choices, you can always call in and make a request. I specifically told him to keep the lines open for anyone with a connection to contact him and do just that."

"We aren't really concerned about Boz's musical tastes," Shepard clarified. "It's security that's really the concern here. We just need to be sure this isn't dangerous."

Zek sighed a bit, seemingly in frustration. To his credit he kept his cool. While his smile wasn't as big as before, it remained plastered across his beak. He had probably been expecting this conversation at some point from the look of it.

"Listen, I'm not an idiot, okay?" He tried to reassure. "Pirates like myself know the importance of secure lines of communication. We don't want people hacking our network and finding out we're waiting for them around the next nebula or moon. BBR's signal is secure, it can only be picked up on the wavelengths designated for it's use. You weren't using that frequency for anything, so I decided it would be the best choice. And for added security, we have a scrambler installed into the console rig. Anyone who picks up that signal without special codes on their comm-rig is just going to hear static. It's only tuned to our ships, no one else is going to be able to use it to find us."

"Are you sure of that?" Haverson asked. "What if someone circumvents those codes? Or passes them along to our enemies? Hell, anyone could probably sneak into that radio station and beam a transmission if they wanted to."

"Lieutenant, please, Retz has already thought about all that," Zek promised. "They can't beam a transmission out through the radio unless they get through the scrambler, which only I have the code to. Which I also change every other day. Anyone who tries that is just going to beam white noise into a person's ears. Like I said, we're not stupid."

Haverson didn't look entirely convinced, crossing his arms and continuing to glare at the pirate.

"And why exactly should I trust in your security measures?" He asked bluntly.

"Because I'm still holding out hope you'll give me the Ascendant Justice after we reach your Earth," Zek explained rather plainly. "At the very least as a token of gratitude for all the trouble I've put myself through for you humans. You really think I want to risk losing the biggest ship I've scored in my career because of some blabbermouth getting a hold of Boz's console? I'd prefer to keep the Carrier in working order, thank you very much."

That seemed a good enough reason for Haverson, who slightly eased up his confrontational stance.

"You could have at least run this by us first," he informed the Jackal.

"Our arrangement said I have full control over the affairs of my ship, at least as far as I recall," Zek snapped back at him. "Buzzard Buccaneer Radio's station is aboard my ship. It exists to give the rest of our flotilla an open window into life aboard the Fallen Serpent and provides the men in your service an opportunity to converse openly with us. Boz is our representative of Kig-yar culture to humanity. Also technically your culture's past too, considering most of the things on his playlist currently."

"I would still like to keep informed about your security measures nonetheless," Haverson informed him. "And given that some of the men don't mind it, you're free to blast your music as loud as you want, so long as it doesn't put us at risk. Fair warning though, don't expect everyone that calls into the Buzzard's little show to be as forthcoming as you hope. Marines, ODSTs, Army troopers, they are generally a lot less democratic than me."

"How shocking," Zek said, smirking sarcastically. "I honestly never thought there could be anyone more a pain in the ass than you, Lieutenant. I'll tell Boz to keep your warning in mind, rest assured. If you have any other requests, feel free to contact him personally. I'm sure there's something he has you'd enjoy listening to. It is mostly your people's music after all."

Haverson didn't take the pirate's bait. He snorted a bit, nodded at Shepard to show he was satisfied and began to leave.

"I'll see myself out," he assured Retz as he past.

"Pleasure having you," Zek said waving goodbye.

When the door slid closed though and Haverson was well and truly gone, Zek's faux smile and cheerful hand both dropped instantly.

"Prick," the Jackal said, before spitting off to the side. "You know, I always wondered if humans had their own version of the sangheili. There's my answer."

"You could stand to be a little less confrontational," Shepard informed him. "He's just doing his job."

"His job isn't to tell me how to do mine," Zek growled in return. "He wants his stupid reports, he'll get them. But I don't appreciate him storming onto this ship to make such demands. I'm doing what he and Holland wanted, I'm trying to make us more approachable and less isolated. I'm trying to show the UNSC what we are. That we are more than open to a partnership of sorts. And yet, I'm still getting guff."

"Believe it or not, Haverson and Holland are willing to work with you," Shepard informed him bluntly. "They're not what you think they are. They aren't the Elites in different packaging. They don't really care whether or not you believe in their Gods and they're not looking to subjugate you. They're just looking for someone that they can rely on."

Zek looked up at Shepard, his neck stretching out slightly with eyes wide.

"I am reliable!" He declared, placing a hand on his chest, sounding almost offended. "I'm more than worth my word, you should know that by now. I got you those supplies, I got you a new ship, I got you off Halo before all of that, what more do you want? And don't say helping you defeat the Covenant, we're not having that conversation again."

"The problem is your priorities are stepping over theirs quite a bit," Shepard explained. "Being more open with your agendas is a start, but we're not going to get anywhere if you don't consider some compromising. The point of an alliance is that everyone benefits from the whole. I would think you would appreciate that concept more than anyone."

Zek looked around shiftily for a moment, eventually shrugging as he sat back in his chair.

"With any luck this business with this relic we've pinpointed can get you into their good graces," Shepard tried to reassure him. "Show them you take their mission seriously. It will go a long way, trust me. Now, I should go. I need to get back to the Normandy."

"Very well, Shepard, I won't keep you," Zek replied sighing. "I need to find a better vid, any vid really that doesn't make me feel as depressed as this crap."

Shepard left the room, while Zek started looking through the media file once more. As he was scrolling through the list of titles, Retz approached him, a willy look in his eye.

"The Commander might have a point, sir," he said casually. "We can't really expect Holland and his Marines to just accept us with open arms at this point. We need to start showing them that we can provide a service if we want to prove our value."

"We've done that," Zek insisted. "Not listing everything else, thanks to me and Taq, they have a bead on a possible threat to their war effort. We're getting them a potential superweapon. If this doesn't make them like us, I don't know what will."

"We shouldn't put all our hopes on Taq's fabled wreck getting us more respect, Zek," Retz warned. "Technically it is still her claim. To be honest, we'll be lucky if we get a finder's fee on this. We need to stack the deck in our favor here, something we can provide directly that they would appreciate, but we could still potentially profit from in the long run."

Zek scratched the underside of his beak, nodding slowly. It made sense, show the humans their value as actual partners. It was his original plan all along. There was one clear problem though.

"But what do they want?" He asked aloud. "What service could we provide?"

"Well," Retz began cautiously, "the major thing they seem to want, as far as I can tell anyway, is hurting the Covenant."

Zek just groaned.

"We're trying to avoid getting sucked back into this war, Retz," he reminded his friend.

"I know, but hear me out here," Retz said, trying to clarify his meaning. "We don't have to engage a fleet or slaughter an army. We can provide them with information, intelligence, a means to strike at the Covenant and hurt them sufficiently. We could offer our services in helping them achieve this end and, of course, make off with a potential profit for ourselves. We'd have to be open about it with them, at least as a way to properly detail terms. We'd still be providing them with a means to hurt their enemy though. How could they pass that up?"

Zek was suddenly intrigued and he knew Retz wouldn't suggest any of this just out of the blue. No, his friend had a plan, if not a target already in mind. A good old fashioned snatch and grab raid from the sound of things. That put a grin on his face once more.

"You got a lead on a job?" He asked Retz knowingly.

"It's tantalizing, to say the least," Retz assured. "If the information from my contacts is accurate, it could certainly win us some legitimate praise for once. Better yet, it's not that far off our current course. In the grand scheme of the Covenant war effort, it's probably not much to be honest. However, it would be a nice way to show them the potential of a working partnership."

Zek's grin grew wide at that. Chuckling slightly, he bumped his friend's shoulder in approval.

"Make it happen," he ordered. "But more importantly make sure it's a solid deal. We can't have another screw-up like the Hollow."

"I'll make sure of it, sir," Retz promised.

"Good, in the meantime, let's watch something less insulting," Zek declared, turning back to the media file on his datapad. "Let's see if this Ultraman series Ms. Goto recommended is worthwhile."

---

"Quiet Riot, Cum on Feel the Noize, that's Noise with a Z by the way, dear listeners," Boz's voice chirped on the radio. "Gotta love a band that likes plays on words and puns that much, especially involving a sex act. Also the ironic band name is a nice touch. Humans, clever primates aren't they? Jiralhanae couldn't think this shit up. Anyway, I hope you liked that number, we got another coming up. First though, let's go to the comm-board for a bit cause we got caller. Hello, you are on the air with Boz the Buzzard!"

"Awesome, this is Sigz in Navigation, you have no idea how good it is to have some real music for once," another Jackal's voice spoke up. "I can see why the Covenant want to wipe out humanity now. They're better at making sweet tunes and they're embarrassed as fuck."

"Completely agree, Sigz," Boz responded jubilantly. "But I'd like to assure some of listeners out there, we got some classic shanties coming up as well. Wouldn't be a Pirate Radio station if we neglected those. So, Sigz, you got any requests for our next song?"

"Oh geez, not sure, uh," the Jackal caller struggled slightly. "You got anything that hits you like a bolt of lighting in the middle of a raging sea?"

"Buddy, we got plenty of that and I think I know just what to play," Boz assured his listener. "They named themselves after alternating electrode currents and with good reason. They are a shock to your system! This is AC/DC! Thunderstruck!"

Kat turned the radio's audio output down before slowly rising pounding the rock music could drown out her thoughts. She had nothing against the classics, but having them blasting constantly in her ears all day got grating. She preferred the sound of her own thoughts, not guitar solos. Although not everyone had the same opinion of course, including aliens.

"Don't turn it too low," Tali requested. "It's soothing."

"Heavy Metal is soothing?" Kat asked confused.

"Loud noises more than anything," Tali clarified. "The Flotilla back home is always noisy. I've gotten used to the more quiet ships, but honestly, the music centers me a little. Helps me focus."

Tali went back to work with the other alien in the Med-Bay, an Engineer. The floating living supercomputer was taking up a significant portion of the corner of the room. Doctor Chakwas was allowing Tali to rent the space for the moment to run a few tests on the creature. There was little anyone truly understood about the Engineers, or Huragoks as everyone else called them. Tali was hopeful that learning more would help them greatly, specifically with a few side projects the quarian was working on. First she needed data though, and that what all these scans with the medical equipment was for. While she gave the tentacled gasbag tasks to complete, she tried to get some readings on it's biology and cognitive functions.

Kat had just come over for a chat, maybe a friendly bite to ear. Now though, things were a bit more interesting. She should've guessed the quarian would be all over these Engineers prior to her arrival. That she'd want to learn how to utilize them to the ship's benefit. After all, she would probably be doing the same thing if she had access to the creatures.

Tali was probably the only other person outside of Jun and the other Spartans she could truly consider a friend. The quarian and her were a lot alike, although initially she did want to admit it, but it was true. They both had extremely inquisitive minds, a desire to figure out how things work and a love of tech in all it's forms. She probably wasn't as outwardly passionate or emotional about it as the quarian, but that was neither here nor there. Point was, she was the only being, Spartan or otherwise, who she felt could keep up with her. Also, she had provided her with a new cybernetic arm, so there was that too.

"By the way, AC/DC is technically not a Metal band," the quarian corrected Kat suddenly as she continued to set up the next scan. "They're a Hard Rock group with elements of the Blues heavily influencing their work. Although they share a lot in common with Metal groups of the the 1970s, it's more accurate to say they influenced them rather than belonging to the genre."

Kat cocked an eyebrow in a bit of confusion at that. With her helmet off, her bemusement was readily apparent to Tali. The quarian caught herself, giggling a bit at how she had gotten carried away.

"Shepard's a bit of a music buff," she explained herself, clearly smiling under her mask. "A lot of BBR's playlist was originally uploaded into that file by him. He was very insistent on sharing some of the history."

No doubt, Kat thought. She could've gone deeper into that subject, but no. She wasn't going to pry into Tali's personal life. That was her business after all. Although honestly, she kind of wished she didn't dance around the issue so much. Pretty much every Spartan knew what was going on between her and the Commander. Just because they weren't big on romance didn't mean they were blind.

But while Tali's knowledge and affinity for human music was a little understandable, Kat was still baffled by how quickly the Jackals had latched onto it. Sure, Rock certainly seemed to fit their collective personalities. It was loud, fast and celebrated chaos more often than not. What she knew about their species suggested those were qualities they believed in. There were still aliens though and it seemed weird that they'd be so quick to pick up human culture. She could appreciate the music, at least in a cultural sense. After all, ever since the revival of Classic Metal in the 2470s, Rock music in general had been fully accepted as a legitimate form of artistic expression. Full Orchestral Concerts with electric guitars were a regular thing now for humanity. The Jackals didn't have the same history or connection with these songs though. So why had they picked it up so quickly?

She wasn't a xeno studies major, she didn't have the answer. Perhaps though, another alien did. Kat watched as Tali placed a few spent thermal clips in front of the Engineer for the next test. As the gasbag got to work and the quarian prepared the scan, Kat made her move.

"So what is your honest opinion on this radio station of theirs?" She asked aloud. "Besides it offering something worth listening to while you work."

"If Zek and his men want to listen to some music and wish to share it with all of us, I see no problem," the quarian responded earnestly. "As long as it doesn't affect security or endanger the ship, just let them have their fun. Honestly, Zek has done way worse than creating a radio station. I think we can all agree on that."

"Still, why?" Kat asked, voicing her evident curiosity towards the move. "I can somewhat see the morale boosting capabilities, but why this music? Why this and not something they've created themselves?"

Tali stopped in the middle of her work and turned to Kat. She looked a bit more downcast, a little more distant. With a sad little sigh, she put her best answer forward.

"Truthfully? Probably because they don't have much else," she explained, her tone low and a little depressed. "This might sound a bit odd, but from what I've heard about them, I sort of relate. My people practically lost their entire culture when we were exiled. We have very little of what our people were before that time. Before we became outcasts. We got lucky, we weren't subjugated. Zek, his crew, his people, not so lucky. They've had a lot of what they were stomped out, deliberately, for a lot longer than the quarians in fact. They need something to fill that void. Something to replace what was lost. To speak to their emotions and express who they are. These human films and songs, they gravitate to them because they do just that."

Kat hadn't thought about that angle, about how Tali might have something in common with the Jackals of all aliens. She wasn't sure she was as sympathetic to Zek and his people on the same level, but her quarian friend had a point she couldn't ignore. When you lost something, it left a hole. She knew that in more ways than one. Trying to fill that hole was difficult and not always the easiest of transitions either.

Was their culture really that badly subjugated? Really that trodden upon? In all honesty, she had never really thought of the subordinate species of the Covenant as victims, not in that way anyhow. In the end, she supposed she couldn't judge the Jackals too harshly for desiring something to replace what they lost. If bits of human culture helped in that regard, well all the better. Though that didn't make them any less a bunch of disreputable criminals, they were pirates after all.

"I suppose I can understand that," she admitted aloud. "And it does sound like it's making them appreciate what humanity can offer. You know, outside of being potential customers I mean."

"Peace has to start somewhere, Kat," Tali argued simply, shrugging as she did. "Sharing your music for free is a new one, but it seems to be paying off so far."

Kat just nodded and Tali returned to her work. Deciding to get the whole bizarre business of Boz the Buzzard out of her mind, the Spartan directed her attention to the Engineer in the room.

"So, what have the scans picked up on your new crew member?" She asked Tali.

"Hard to say really," she admitted. "I'm mostly just compiling notes and hoping Mordin can shed some more light on what I find. I'd leave it all up to him if it didn't involve as much technical knowledge as it does biology."

As Tali spoke, the Engineer raised it's tentacle. Within it was a thermal clip which it placed in Tali's hand most graciously. In it's other tendrils it held other thermal clips and every single one of them appeared to be fully functional again, as if they had never been used. Tali held up the one in her hand to Kat's face.

"Look at that," she declared. "I gave it nothing but a few clips and somehow it managed to recycle them all anyway. No special equipment, no tools, all by itself within a few minutes. The regular process takes way longer. It requires cooling the heat sink and replacement of damaged pieces, very precise work. It takes two hours. That's why recyclers are for emergency use only, with no other option and with limited supplies. It's faster to just have the mini-fabricators make more."

Tali then looked back at the Engineer with a curious glint.

"And somehow he's able to do it all in a few minutes," she continued with a befuddled tone in her voice. "It's insane, maddening even."

"So what's the secret?" Kat asked, her own curiosity readily engaged.

"Obviously it's able to fabricate some mechanical elements by itself," Tali surmised. "How, I have no idea, the medical scanners can't seem to pick up anything no matter what settings I put it on. It can, however, pick up something else. Liara told us how they're like supercomputers, right?"

"I recall that was in your friend's report, yes," Kat replied succinctly.

Tali pointed to the scanner's read out screen and motioned Kat to wait by it. Meanwhile, the quarian placed a bunch of assorted pieces of metal nearby. It took a few moments for Kat to realize it was a stripped and disassembled pistol of some kind.

"Don't worry, it's not loaded," she assured.

The Engineer got to work almost instantly, rushing to put the pistol back together with all due speed and efficency. Tali made sure that Kat kept her eyes off that display and on the console's computer screen. On the monitor, the sensors were shown to be picking up highly increased brainwave activity. According to this, the Engineer was processing the task before it at an alarmingly fast rate. It was a blink and you missed situation though, because within a few seconds the sensors read normal again. Turning back to the gaseous xeno, she found the creature was already holding up the gun, an M-6 Carnifex if she wasn't mistaken.

"I think he beat my reassembly record," Kat noted.

"He's beaten everyone's reassembly record with the Carnifex," Tali exclaimed. "Even Miranda's and Garrus', and they're both obsessive about that stuff. I've been giving him broken olfactory filters, damaged servos, various bits and ends it had never seen before and it's able to get them back to working order faster than I ever could with my toolkit. I'd be jealous if I wasn't so fascinated. That's not the crazy part though. Watch, he's never been given something this complex before."

Tali dropped down an assault rifle in a similar state of disassembly. This one an Avenger if she recalled, but there were bits and pieces of a MA5C in there as well. Probably in an attempt to confuse the alien a little. When Tali stepped away it got to work again. Kat quickly turned back to the screen and saw the same increased brain activity as before, except even greater and more concentrated. It ended even sooner than before and looked to see the Engineer placing the completed Avenger back on the table, the other bits of the MA5C pushed off to the side, easily recognized as useless for the moment.

"More complicated than the Carnifex and still able to finish the work in record time, even when I tried to confuse it," Tali expressed, almost on the verge of elation "It's not just faster at processing, it's ability to recall memories is staggering. It's comparable to an AI. It's not just smart, it's impossibly smart. Capable of learning at an IQ level that would make Mordin blush!"

"You're right, that does seem impossible," Kat concurred, the wheel in her mind slowly turning. "Well, for an organic being anyway."

"I knew you'd be able to understand," Tali said joyfully. "This thing can't be fully organic. It's like a hybrid or something. Artificial and living tissue."

"Like your husks?" Kat asked, a bit concerned.

Tali quickly shook her head.

"No, those things are mindless, no thoughts or emotions of their own," Tali corrected her. "These things are clearly sapient. They might be a little more driven than most, but they think for themselves. They feel things. I caught this one dancing a bit to some of the music BBR was playing earlier."

Curious, Kat turned the volume on the radio up. Whatever rock song was currently playing didn't matter, she just wanted to see if Tali was pulling her leg or not. Sure enough, the Engineer heard the music, moved over to it and started swaying about slightly, even bobbing it's head in rhythm to the sound and cooing with the notes.

"Adorably fascinating," Kat stated in the most deadpan tone she could deliver. "So it thinks like a machine, feels like an organic creature. Perhaps some neurological or cybernetic implant? One of extremely advanced design?"

"Can't detect any cybernetics on the scanners," Tali shrugged as the engineer moved it's head over to her. "Their genetics are a bit odd, but the readings are inconclusive overall. Mordin might have more luck, but I'm not sure if even he can classify their biology."

Tali petted the snake-like head of the creature who apparently in a far more cheerful mood with the music turned up again. It even turned to Kat, nuzzling her arm, perhaps in thanks for turning up the volume. She let the weird alien do it's thing, however bizarre it felt.

"They're the most naturally gifted technical minds in this or any universe," Tali continued to exclaim. "And for the life of me, I can't figure out how anything like this could have evolved naturally."

"Probably because they didn't."

Kat and Tali looked to the door to see who had interrupted them. It was Taq, the female Jackal that had put them on the trail of this Forerunner wreck they were now after. Her hood was down around her neck, revealing piercing determined eyes and flowing quills. The loud music must've masked her entrance, they didn't hear the door slide open. To say Kat had not been expecting her was an understatement.

"What are you doing here?" She asked the bird-like alien.

"I have authorization, relax," Taq assured. "My business practices are a lot less invasive than Zek's, I assure you. Just because I rob tombs doesn't mean I can't work through proper channels."

"That still doesn't really answer her question," Tali informed her. "What are you doing here?"

"Simple, I need your Huragok for a moment," she explained. "Don't worry, I'm not going to take him off your hands, I just need him to look at my data module for a bit."

Kat raised an inquisitive brow and almost sensing the question before she asked it, Taq answered her thoughts.

"I need to see if it can repair some of the fragmented data," the female Jackal explained. "When we get to the wreck I need a reliable map of the place. An idea of where to look for the artifact in question when we're inside would be beneficial, wouldn't you say? Hell just knowing where we're going would be helpful. Don't want to get lost in there."

Kat could see the logic of that, so she decided not to stand in the little alien's way. She motioned her head to the Engineer and the Jackal headed towards it. She reached into her satchel and held up the data module pyramid to the gaseous creature. Eyeing it carefully, the creature picked it up in its tendrils and carried it over to a nearby table. As it started to work, Tali spoke up suddenly.

"What did you mean by that?" She asked. "About them not evolving naturally."

"You can see it yourself, there's no way they just evolved to be inherently gifted with tech," Taq declared. "That's not an evolutionary trait that just passes on. There's also just simple logic. Their species has no fossil record. No cultural history. There's no cities, no evidence they've built anything for themselves, they don't even have an architectural background. You don't evolve to be super scary smart like that and not create some badass city or two. All they do is fix other people's shit. Like it's their function."

"So where do you think they came from?" Kat asked, watching the Engineer continue to work.

There was a bright blue glow now from the bioluminescent body of the Engineer. It's head was sunk low, glaring at the module while it's tendrils seeped into every side. The map could be seen displayed against the ceiling, bits of code and ancient symbols flashing all around. As this happened, Taw answered Kat's question.

"They were clearly made, an artificial race if you will," she postulated. "It's the only explanation for their lack of any cultural footprint. It makes sense, given how the Covenant's Prophets claim to have just found them."

"Found them?" Tali asked in confusion. "What do you mean found them?"

"They just found them, that's the official party line," Taq informed her. "They claim they're tools left by the Forerunners, there to offer their services along the path of supposed salvation. It's why they use them mainly for uncovering and researching Forerunner tech. My theory is the Forerunners created them for a purpose, makes sense given how good they are with machines. However, I doubt that purpose is to help the Covenant. More likely it was so the Forerunner's legacy could live on after their deaths. To what end, I can't say, but it wasn't for the Covenant's benefit."

"What makes you think that?" Kat questioned.

"Because Huragok don't fight for the Covenant and, as you can plainly see, they have no loyalty to them," she exclaimed firmly as she pointed her open palm to the Engineer. "They just help anyone, especially when it means maintaining Forerunner tech. Given their enthusiasm to assist you, I'd go so far as to say they don't even like the Covenant much."

Since they seemed to be used as slaves by the Covenant, Kat could believe that. What she heard about Liara's experience with the aliens suggested as much as well. These things were neutral towards the conflict, but perhaps with little sympathy for their captors. They just found joy in fixing things, learning about new technology, being helpful. Very altruistic, for a bunch of floating gas bags.

"How are you so knowledgeable about all this?" Kat asked the Jackal next.

"I'm an archaeologist," she replied flatly. "An actual worthwhile one who bothers to ask real questions rather than assume the answers are laid out for me by some dipshit with a funny crown. I actually pay attention because I take my job seriously and I leave religion out of my analysis. Mainly because the Forerunners weren't Gods and it is pointless to treat them like they were."

Taq turned back around to look both Tali and Kat in the eyes directly.

"Thank you for confirming that fact by the way," she told them. "Zek told me the whole story, but I don't trust him to be very accurate with the details. I requested the mission logs from your Lieutenant Haverson and he was most gracious to share, if only to satisfy my curiosity. It's as I suspected, the Forerunners didn't ascend, they died. Although, I didn't think their deaths were as extreme as reality apparently revealed. Satisfying to be right, nonetheless."

"Well I'm glad you can be satisfied in the face of potential galactic extinction," Kat noted rather sardonically.

Taq just smirked although it didn't last. Hers and everyone else's attention was brought back to the Engineer as it's bioluminescence faded. It had turned back around, holding the module in hand. Taq took it and activated in her hand. Flipping through the data, she found a readout for the missing ship. It was a proper blueprint, a three-dimensional layout of what the ship looked like complete. Didn't seem to be any clear data on the relic's location though. Taq looked at the Engineer after scanning the information.

"Best you could do, huh?" She asked.

The gaseous creature bobbed it's head and seemed to coo sadly.

"That's alright, it was a longshot anyway," Taq admitted. "Data corrupts, it's inevitable. This thing is eons old by now, some of it just isn't recoverable."

"At least we won't be too lost," Tali said optimistically.

"Assuming it's all in one piece," Taq quickly added. "And you just know it won't be. But we can approximate where we are, so we can work with that. We'll need to locate the relic another way when we arrive. That means hacking the ship's records directly. Not easy."

"It shouldn't be difficult for Cortana," Kat assured. "She's infiltrated harder systems."

"We'll make due either way," Taq relented with a sigh. "Thanks for letting me borrow him, and thank you too, Gasbag."

She patted the Engineer on the head and twirled slightly.

"I'm going to study this more, maybe there's something I missed," she said plainly. "You think your crew will mind if I stay here for a bit?"

"I thought Zek gave you a room aboard the Serpent," Tali noted. "Why not go there?"

"Because I'd rather be as far away from that idiot as possible for a while," Taq declared. "I just know he's waiting in there, probably only wearing flowers over his junk or some other garbage. I'd rather not deal with that."

"Chances are he's more likely just watching vids," Kat told her. "You probably don't have to worry about him being in there."

"Better safe than sorry," the Jackal explained. "He's going to try something to get me to sleep with him again, I just know it. At least he hasn't sent me bullshit poetry over the mail system yet. Good luck with whatever it is you plan to have these Huragok do for you. Trust me though, they will exceed expectations. They always do."

Taq left, but didn't go far from the med bay. She took a seat just outside the window a few feet away. Kat eyed her curiously for a moment before turning to Tali.

"For a Jackal she's not like her compatriots personality wise," she observed aloud. "She's almost respectable."

"In my experience, other species can surprise you if you let them," Tali informed her.

Indeed, thought Kat. One thing seemed certain, this wreck they were headed to was going to be an interesting operation. She was almost looking forward to it. Then she thought, holy shit, she was looking forward to working with a Jackal of all things. Hopefully she would regret that later.

---

It hadn't been hard to find a decent spot on this massive ship to outfit into a proper shooting range. The hangar provided more than enough space. They were unable to use most their traditional weapons due to rationing of course. Even with all the bullets the pirates had kindly procured for them, they still needed to carefully monitor their use of live rounds. This meant they were stuck mostly with spare guns lent to them by the Normandy as thermal clips could be more readily replaced via that ship's micro-replicator technology. At least now they could keep their skills sharp, just not with their regular weapons.

That could change though if what Buck had brought to show McKay worked

It looked like a regular M6D pistol, but the magazine was slightly larger and the shaft had been modified in a similar manner. It didn't take long to figure out why, for when McKay popped the magazine out she found a thermal clip inside. Snapping it back in place she smiled lightly at Buck.

"So Garrus finally figured it out, huh?" She asked him.

"Him and Jacob, actually," Buck corrected. "The biggest problem was just finding the time to perfect everything. Jacob is no slouch with guns either, so he picked up the slack. It's got one of those lead blocks installed in the chamber, just like their guns. The idea is further increased stopping power with added modification ability. Only gains, no losses to accuracy or damage output."

McKay looked over the modified gun. It felt slightly heavier but otherwise wasn't too different from the regular M6D. She aimed it down range through the iron sight, nodding as she did.

"Can they do the same with our other guns?" She asked.

"They think so," Buck told her. "But they'd like to know how this prototype works first. They want to see if there's still adjustments to be made. Well, Garrus does at least. It's a thing for him."

"Right, I've heard about his preoccupation with, uh, calibrations," McKay recalled. "Well, if it means I get more guns like this I'm eager to try it out."

Before she even started shooting down range though, the intercom started playing music. Even with the volume on it turned down, she could still clearly hear the song "Hot Blooded" filling the whole damn room. She rolled her eyes and sighed loudly. She hadn't been able to escape this stuff since the morning started.

"Shepard lets his guard down for one second with his computer and before we know it Zek's cronies are blasting this retro rock everywhere," she groaned. "Honestly, I'm not surprised they like it, I'm just surprised they throwing it back at us so blatantly."

"Maybe it's their way of showing us they actually like us," Buck chuckled warmly. "Or at least that they like our music."

"Comforting," McKay assured the Sergeant. "I don't think the Co-opting of 20th Century Hard Rock and Metal is having the desired effect though. That's my impression at least."

McKay aimed down range finally and positioned the sights on target's "head." The spare bulkhead panels they had cut into silhouettes were obviously more durable than paper, so would need to be constantly replaced. She fired three clean rounds into the target's head, one after the other. The kickback wasn't too bad, similar to a regular M6D. It did feel more powerful though, the result of a mass effect field discharge she imagined. Grouping seemed decent at least too.

"Well it didn't blow up in my face," McKay said, chuckling sardonically. "So far so good. Wish everything was like that."

She fired another shot at a second further target before Buck interrupted her concentration.

"Rome works out his frustrations on the range too," he bluntly stated.

"That obvious?" She asked stoically, not at all embarrassed that it showed so easily.

"You have been pretty tense, ma'am," Buck told her. "I don't blame you, but there is a reason I asked you to help me with this and not someone else. You needed to get away from the job for a second."

"Sadly everything these days is the job, Sergeant," McKay told him flatly. "But I appreciate the sentiment. Honestly, I think that's why I agreed to come down when you asked."

She took a few more shots down the line, easily hitting the further target three more times. She shifted to a third target that was much closer to them, blasting it six times in the head before she stopped to eject the thermal clip.

"Twelve rounds, impressive," she told Buck. "I was honestly worried we had lost one or two in the transition."

"Garrus thinks he can get an extra with some modifications," Buck informed her in kind. "But back to the subject, how are you holding up?"

"Best as I can, Buck," McKay admitted as she slapped the next thermal clip in. "The fact is though at times it feels like I'm all alone out there in front of the men. They act like I don't see it but I do. Hell, I can feel it, I'm not one of them anymore to them."

She unloaded another four rounds into another target, two in the head, two in the middle of it's torso. The terrible blasting of the gun almost drowned out the obnoxious rock music in the background as it echoed in the chamber. McKay let the weapon's barrel smoke for a bit as she took a breath.

"You're not alone, ma'am," Buck assured her. "You have your supporters. Me, my squad, that rookie Gilfoyle, this other kid, Locklear I think his name is. There are plenty of Drop Troopers who think what you did back on the Truth and Reconciliation took a lot of guts."

"And I'm glad to have that support, but a little less than half an already damaged unit still leaves a lot of soldiers who think otherwise," she said morosely. "It's like all that training in boot just went out the window. I'm a pariah now, Sergeant. Let's not mix words here."

"Doesn't mean it's your fault," Buck told her firmly. "You did what you had to do. According to you, Silva himself realized he was wrong in the end. If he had gotten that infected ship out of atmo, who knows what might have happened."

"I know, Sergeant," McKay assured him, turning her head to look at him. "But doing the right thing doesn't always translate to what's popular. Sometimes I wish I'd have pushed more, found a way to talk Antonio down, change his mind. But then I can't think of anything I could've said that would've changed a damn thing."

She took another few shots, this time aiming at a target set up a few feet higher than the others and further back. She managed to score another clean headshot with relative ease.

"Don't misunderstand, Buck," she continued calmly. "If I had to do it all over again, I'd still have sided with the Spartans to stop him. Part of me just feels I could've done more before that point to prevent what happened altogether."

"Sometimes you can't control what people do, LT," Buck responded sadly. "You can only control your actions. Sometimes people above or below us do stupid, bullshit things. And those stupid, bullshit things end up taking the whole mission south. Right now, all those guys against you are looking for someone to blame. They're being petty, that's all."

"Point is I need to win to get them back under control," McKay explained. "And I need to do it before they try to do something even worse than what Silva attempted. We don't need a repeat mutiny, Buck. I'm just not sure how to prevent it. I'm not sure what I have to do to earn their respect again."

"Well, maybe you could ask Haverson or Holland for a field promotion," Buck casually suggested. "Captain Melissa McKay has a nice ring to it."

McKay thought on that for a moment, bringing her gun down from her target. "Hot Blooded" had long since ended, replaced by "Dream On", almost as if by pure happenstance. The universe just laughing at her it seemed.

Captain, she'd be lying to herself to say she never thought of it. A promotion like that, it would be a big step. It also made sense, Lieutenants didn't usually serve as Unit Commanders. Holland and Haverson weren't Navy branches, true, but in theory they could promote her to that rank if so inclined. They were the acting COs of this makeshift fleet, at least in relation to all UNSC personnel. She hadn't asked them though and the reason was fairly simple.

"You really think that would change much?" She asked Buck sincerely.

"Maybe it won't, but it's something," he answered. "It might remind everyone that you're in charge, whether they like it or not."

"If I get the promotion I want it to be for a legitimate reason," she explained bluntly. "I want to feel like I earned it. Not because I demand it or because I think it will get me respect. I just doesn't feel right otherwise."

Buck just nodded in reply.

"It's your career, ma'am," he relented. "Far be it from me to tell you how to run it. Just for the record though, if that's really how you feel, I suggest you keep your eyes open for that opportunity to earn it. Might be coming sooner than you think. Whenever that happens, you can count on my squad to back you up. That's a promise ma'am."

"Thanks, Sergeant," McKay said smiling lightly. "That means a lot, believe me."

She fired the rest of the rounds at each of the targets in quick succession. She hit a headshot with every single one before the thermal clip was expended. She cleared the gun and placed it down on the table.

"You can tell Garrus the gun is a success," she announced. "The weight requires some adjustment and rate of fire could be improved, but that's an easy fix. I think we got ourselves a decent gun."

"He'll be delighted to hear that, ma'am," Buck told her. "Any other suggestions for his next gun modification?"

She gave it a moment's thought before deciding.

"I'd like see what he can do with a Battle Rifle," she suggested. "That might be a nice stress reliever, come to think about it."

---

The last Shepard had expected was to be called down to the Spartan Quarters by Chief himself. Usually he was the one reaching out to the super soldier. While he had been more social in comparison to when they first met, he was still pretty closed off most of the time. Shepard couldn't imagine what had prompted the request for a meeting.

He arrived to find Chief alone sitting down near a small makeshift table created from Covenant ammo crates. Shepard looked around, but found no one else in the room with them. He guessed the other Spartans were out doing something else.

"Hey, Chief," Shepard greeted. "You wanted to talk?"

"Yes, Sir," he replied. "I hope you weren't busy with anything."

"I got time for all my friends, Chief," Shepard assured him. "Don't worry about it."

The Commander took a seat across from the Spartan. He was eager to learn why he was here. He could only expect it was something important and most likely personal. Why else would they be here in private. At least, he imagined they were speaking in private.

"Is Cortana..."

"Haverson asked her to analyze the Carrier's computer," he explained. "He wants to see if there is any usable intelligence on it. Right now it's just you and me, there's something I have to ask you about."

Shepard just nodded, signaling him to go ahead. Chief exhaled briefly and then laid it all out.

"I think my old team is still alive."

It was blunt and to the point, classic Master Chief. Shepard assumed he meant his old team of fellow Spartans, the ones presumably lost on Reach. Shepard could only try to keep his stoic composure and not sound too skeptical.

"Why do you think this?" He asked. "Did something come up? Did Cortana intercept a transmission? Did she find something?"

"No," Chief admitted. "I don't have any proof they're alive. Just a feeling. I'll understand if you feel that sounds irrational. I can barely understand it myself, but it's how I feel."

"I'm assuming you've already talked to Cortana about the likelihood of their survival," Shepard noted.

Chief just nodded.

"I know it's astronomical," he admitted. "But I can't shake it. I just feel like they're still there. They're still on Reach and they're alive."

Shepard didn't want to come off as insulting or confrontational, so he decided to forgo arguing the point for the moment. Instead, he decided to switch gears a little.

"How long have you suspected this?" He asked.

"A good while now," Chief admitted. "Ever since we got off Halo."

Shepard nodded, his throat eliciting an understanding "hmm" in response.

"By all accounts it looked like everyone was dead," the Spartan continued. "Linda, Holland, Sergeant Johnson, all those Marines and Army Troopers, your crew. It looked like we had just blown them all up to save the galaxy from the Flood. Instead, we find they're alive. I'm so used to that not being the case, well, maybe it struck a chord."

"Like there's hope?" Shepard asked. "Hope there could be other survivors?"

"Maybe," Chief shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just being stupid, I don't know. Can't shake the feeling though."

There was a brief silence where Shepard just tried to read his friend. The Master Chief spoke more through body language than anyone other person he knew. It was all very subtle though, his emotions tapped down hard. It was doubtless part of his training since childhood. To be a good leader, you couldn't let your emotions control you on the job. You needed to make decisions, you needed to think dispassionately and directly. You couldn't let your heart clog your head. Shepard always believed there were times you could go the other way. That being a soldier didn't mean you had to only think in terms of strategy and tactics. You had to be flexible, otherwise you were just some robot giving out orders without regard to those who followed you.

As much as they probably had tried to instil that in the Master Chief, it hadn't completely took. He maintained the outward appearance of a pillar of strength for his team to latch onto. Inside though, he cared, probably more than he really should. He grew up with the other Spartans, they were his family. No matter how hard you try to beat that out of a kid, it's never going to go away completely. Humans want companionship, it's in their DNA. Chief sought it in his team, they became his brothers, his sisters, whatever he needed them to be. They did the same to him, it was clear from what he had seen between him and Linda.

He hadn't let any of them go, not even after they died, he couldn't. Shepard understood that feeling, although he suspected Chief had handled it a hell of a lot better. He imagined the Spartan had not descended into alcoholism to try and forget. No, he had kept trying to remember, to push him on further. It must've torn him up inside, yet it also drove him.

"You know about UNSC policy concerning the Spartans, right?" Chief suddenly asked. "How we're listed when we get killed?"

"All missing in action from what I've heard," Shepard recalled. "Creates the idea that they're still out there, still fighting."

"I have the whole list in here," he stated, pointing to his head. "Every single one reported killed I mark as MIA per protocol. I check it every now and then. It's become a pretty big list. Me and Linda are the only ones listed as active anymore."

"That's a pretty heavy burden to hold in there," Shepard noted.

"It's mine alone to bear," Chief answered stoically. "They're my people, it's my job."

Shepard just nodded in understanding, not wanting to pry further.

"I suppose, just once, I'd like to change the MIA back to active," Chief admitted plainly, looking away as he spoke. "I like to believe I can do that one day. I gave up on that after Reach. Then, we found out how many people survived Halo's destruction and, well..."

"I get it, Chief, I do," Shepard assured him. "But I've been down this road myself. It doesn't always turn out how you hope."

"I know, but part of me just needs to head down it," Chief explained. "I need to confirm it, see it for myself. I need to know if they're really gone. Just this once, I need to know for sure."

Shepard stood back up, his arms crossed in a thoughtful manner.

"It's not going to be easy to convince Holland to head back to Reach," he said thoughtfully.

"I know, I'm not asking you to help me find an excuse," Chief explained. "Cortana is already trying to help me think of something. I just wanted you here to ask you something else."

Shepard turned and looked attentively at the Spartan.

"When I make my case, I want to know if you'll have my back," he requested. "I just need to know that. I don't mean to put pressure on you, sir, but I'd appreciate if I knew where you stood."

Shepard just smiled lightly. He walked over and slapped his hand on Chief's shoulder.

"I always got your back, Chief," he assured him. "When you make your case, just let me know. I'll be there to back you up. I'm not sure how much I can do, but I'll be there, I promise."

"Thank you, sir," Chief said nodding lightly. "That means a lot."

"I just want you to be ready for if we do go back," Shepard was quick to add. "Like I said, it might not turn out the way you want."

Chief seemed to accept that possibility, he knew the odds against his instincts, that was clear. Before the conversation could go further though, their internal comms chirped alive.

"Commander, Master Chief, this is Haverson," the voice on the line said. "Holland needs a moment of your time. First Mate Retz has called a private meeting. It sounds important. We might need your input."

"On our way, Haverson," Shepard replied. "Be there in a minute."

He cut the comm and turned to Chief.

"Think it's another potential mission?" The Spartan asked.

"More than likely," Shepard concurred. "I had a talk with Zek earlier today, it might be another attempt to prove their value to Holland."

"This should at least be interesting," Chief said as he stood up. "No sense in keeping them waiting then. Let's go."

Shepard just flashed an assuring smile as they left.

"Right behind you, Chief."

---

Holland looked over the three dimensional image hanging in the air before his face. His inquisitive eye examined the pictures of the asteroid belt, the structures built into the rock the size of the island of Manhattan. He could also see a cluster of small structures on another smaller rock nearby, along with a number of ships flying about the area. He was intrigued, but skeptical nonetheless. He looked past the image to Retz. The Jackal wasn't smiling, but he did seem eager to hear something, anything from the Colonel.

"This is legitimate?" Holland asked at last.

"Solid as can be, Colonel," Retz stoically assured. "I have good contacts, good ears. Look at your hold full of rocket launchers for proof of that."

Holland crossed his arms as he stood upright.

"I just want to know what we're walking into if we agree to act," he explained. "Help me sort through the murk here, this place is what exactly? A Covenant resource mining operation?"

"Technically, they're a subsidiary branch of the Iruiru Armory," Retz clarified. "Located on the Sangheili homeworld, but a major supplier of many Covenant firearms. The demands of a galactic wide-war have forced them to look for raw materials further and further away from their home system. This is one of their mining and processing facilities."

"And what does this facility specialize in making?" Holland questioned, expecting a worthwhile response.

"Plasma coils from what I understand," Retz informed him. "The bedrock of every gun they put into service. These asteroids are full of the materials needed to make them. That's why they set this place up. It's a small cog in a relatively large war machine, of course. But every dent made inevitably breaks the engine down, correct?"

Holland turned to Haverson, expecting him to field his own question. He did not disappoint.

"I suspect you want something out of this if we decide to act on your intel," he surmised. "What is it?"

"To be honest, we don't really mind either way," Retz explained. "We're sitting rather pretty thanks to our trip to the Hollow. We can hold off on another job for a while if we wished. However, this is a Covenant-backed facility. It's protected by a small unit of sangheili, plus company security forces. It's manufacturing weapons or weapons parts for the war against you. It's also not too far off our present course. It's a target of opportunity, it's your choice to ignore it."

"But what do you want for it?" Holland said aloud impatiently, asking once again on Haverson's behalf.

"Some of the raw materials to sell to a few suppliers in exchange for credits really," Retz admitted almost casually. "Plasma coil materials and parts are a hot little commodity. Fast, easy money if you get the right buyer. Would be nice to have something a little extra to spend now and then."

Holland hadn't expected the Jackal to be so forward with the truth. He out and admitted they were after profit here. Perhaps he didn't want insult his intelligence with another cock and bull story as before. Or maybe it was a half-truth and Retz wasn't telling him again there was also no pressure to act on the information. You'd think he'd be more insistent if this was truly important to him.

"If do go, can I assume you would assist us in taking the facility?" Holland asked him.

"That's up to you," Retz replied simply. "But to be honest, it wouldn't exactly be a fair trade if you made us stay away from this one. Also, just for future reference, it's not exactly a good return on our investment either if we don't have more say in operations like this. We provide you the intelligence and you keep us from getting involved? I mean, there's not much in it for us that way."

"We could always just give you some of the spoils as compensation," Haverson suggested. "You don't have to lift a finger either. Sounds like a win all around."

But Retz shook his head at the offer.

"That's not a great deal for us," he claimed rather succinctly. "We'd be putting our trust in you to give us our fair share. We'd be placing full profit on this endeavor into your hands. With that in mind, I would not feel as obliged to offer anything else I might discover through my contacts to you. Also, I'd imagine your men would have their own problems with us not doing our fair share on such missions. Worse yet, you forcing us to stay on the sidelines could possibly suggest to a few people you're giving us special treatment. Letting us be layabouts, if you will. Honestly, we're a part of this makeshift fleet too. We might as well do our part."

As much as Holland hated to admit to himself, the Jackal had a point. Keeping the Pirates away from the facility would not sit over well with some of the men. The ODSTs were still on edge according to the reports McKay was sending him. If he allowed the Jackals a holiday while he sent humans into battle, well, it just wouldn't look good.

Besides, Retz had all the intel, he knew more about this facility than them. Just looking at the three dimensional image, he could tell they were going to need multiple teams working together to take it down. If they chose to go down this road, they'd need Zek's pirates to help pull it off. Like it or not, it was as Shepard had told them other day, they needed each other right now. Any operation they pulled would require some level of cooperation. There was just no way around that.

The only real question now was if they'd decide to hit this place. Holland looked to the right of the table, where the Master Chief was standing with Commander Shepard. They had both been rather quiet during Retz's pitch. It was time to get their opinion.

"Thoughts, Commander?" Holland asked. "I trust you and your team have dealt with missions like this before."

"A few times, yes," Shepard responded. "I'd be more than willing to send some of my people in. Just like with the carrier I can position them with the other assault groups for additional support. If Retz's intel is accurate, well, it shouldn't be too difficult to pull off."

Holland nodded and turned to the Master Chief, a different question in mind.

"What do you think of the objective, Chief?" He asked simply. "Is it worth the risk?"

"Plasma coils are pretty much the main component in every frontline Covenant weapon," the Spartan said thoughtfully. "As I understand it, we know very little about the materials the Covenant use to make theirs. We've captured plenty of their guns, but this is a chance to better understand their process for making them. That information could be a potential windfall. Ignoring that though, despite this place probably not being a main manufacturing facility, it's still a part of the Covenant war effort. We break it, they can't use it. That's a few less plasma rifles rolling out of assembly to kill Marines with. I say, we take it down."

Holland smiled a bit. Despite what people claimed about the Spartan IIs being blunt instruments, the Master Chief was probably one the sharpest soldiers he had ever known. He had a good strategic grasp of the situation and Holland couldn't fault his logic. He did still feel wary about trusting the Jackals yet again, but at least this time they seemed more up front about their goals. Was Retz telling him everything? Probably not, but what Holland did know for sure was that this place was making guns that killed UNSC soldiers. It was nearby and they had the means to shut it down.

"Alright, we take it," he declared. "Smash, grab, burn it down and run. Simple as that."

"Excellent decision, Colonel," Retz said grinning. "And an even better strategy, I might add. We might make a Pirate of you yet."

Retz deactivated the hologram and pulled out the data module from the table. He then slid it over to Holland. Haverson quickly swiped it off the table as it neared the Colonel and it held it up to his eye.

"I'll let Zek know we're taking the facility together," Retz explained as he began to leave. "Sorry he can't be here himself, he's grown extremely fond of this Ultraman character. You best study the plans and consider who will be on mission. We'll await your operations briefing and compare notes."

Retz then left the room and Holland sighed.

"I'm guessing you have some reservations, sir," Haverson noted aloud.

"Plenty," he admitted to the Lieutenant. "I find it hard to fully trust anything they say after the past few days. But that doesn't change facts, this is a legitimate military target and we are in a position to deal with it. We can't just ignore that, so we're going."

"Agreed, sir," Haverson concurred. "And I trust Commander Shepard's team will be more than adequate to keep the Pirates and their Batarian friends in line. Just in case there's something shadier going on here."

"I think they were being more honest than usual, but don't worry, I'm not naive," Shepard assured him. "My people will keep an eye on them, make sure they don't do anything shifty. In fact, I know just who to pick for the job."

---

AN: We're starting a new arc today, hope you enjoy what is to come. There's going to be a few interesting things coming up sooner than you think. We've also introduced a new character, Boz the Buzzard. Keep an eye out for him, he will be making regular appearances. Let me know your honest opinions about him, you'll be seeing a lot of him in due time. You'll see what I mean.

This was originally a larger chapter, but it got extremely big. So I split it up. The next chapter will come in a few days, but expect some other things to pop as well, including the next chapter of the spinoff story. That one is gonna be interesting indeed. Next chapter here though, we go full Pirate! Who is Shepard sticking with them for the mission? Come back then and see for yourself. Until then, please leave a review and do visit the TV Tropes page when you can.