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He paused as they passed along a low outcropping on the outside of the plateau, which gave him a great vantage point of the moon stretching out away from them.

Several of the Reaper ships had come in to land over the last hour, titanic legs carrying them hundreds of feet with every step. Long arcs of light, ground-based anti-air fire occasionally carved up and along their flanks, but their shields didn't even seem to falter. And they turned, slowly putting an end to whatever meager resistance had managed to survive so far out on the moon's surface.

It was hard to watch… Even if the soldiers out there were only aliens which, as far as he knew, was true.

"Is that the Spirit of Acquisition?" The larger Human asked, stepped up onto the ridge beside him. The ship had fallen a kilometer out, between the ridgeline and the distant Reaper ships, and broken up as it did. Fires burned all along its length, and he could see large, flying things circling it.

"It is." He nodded, "Primarch went down on it."

"Damn…" The man sighed, "Sorry to hear that."

"Don't be." He grunted, turning to move along. "He was an idiot. Tried to fly through without a lane."

"That's cold, man…"

"This is a war." He grunted, "Ships go down. A Human should know that more than anyone…"

The man didn't say anything, but he saw him turn to him out of the corner of his eyes. His face was hidden behind his helmet, but John could read the gesture - the surprise. But why was he shocked? And why were the other Humans wielding riles like his - Avengers, rather than any of the standard UNSC equipment?

'Because they're Alliance, not UNSC,' a part of him spoke, offering up the next, obvious question, 'But if that's the case… Where are we?'

"Not home…"

"You good?" He felt a taloned hand on his shoulder and jumped, jerking away from it and half-raising hsi rifle before he realised it was Garrus and jerked his rifle off to the side, backing away with a groan. Not a Bugger. "Doe?"

"Is he straight?"

"He's fine." Vakarian grunted, waving the woman off, "Just… Been a long day. And he has a hole in him."

"If he's too hurt or drugged to-"

"I'm fine." He snapped shaking his head and pushing past the both of them, "We should hurry up and-"

The loud, warbling screech of something foul and wholly inhuman split the air and they all dove for cover. He rolled onto his back and snapped his rifle up as the strange, worm-like thing soared overhead and veered to the side, chased by long lances of high-caliber fire and dropping off husks as it soared. It circled lazily, until something clipped it and blew away chunks of metal and meat, and then it turned, vanishing behind the tall, craggy hill between them and its drop zone.

"That's the outpost!" Vakarian barked, "It's dropping husks on the outpost! Victus is there!"

"Hustle!" The commander barked, "Double-time, to the camp! We aren't losing another Primarch, damn it!"

Inside, the outpost was chaos made manifest - Reaper and Turian corpses littered the cracked, uneven ground, scattered between the metal shelters the Turians had erected on the higher ground between the crags. The Turians inside had closed them up, using the light-armor walls as sheltered gun-nests to try and fend off the Reapers who had taken the core of the outpost, using the low cover of uneven ground, scattered crates, and huling Reaper corpses for cover.

His Avenger snapped up as they came in, peppering a few Cannibals in a poor spot of cover towards their entrance. They spasmed, half-stood and turned, and then fell with spurts of brackish black blood. Their Marauder lasted long, long enough to turn and spray fire across them, forcing him to dive behind a stack of crates while the rest of his allies fanned out in what cover the entrance could offer.

Then, the Reaper shivered as electricity arced across its chest, and he heard the woman bellow, "T'Soni!"

"Aye!" The creature was hurled up almost instantly, spinning through the air ten feet up before falling, flailing, to the uneven ground.

"Vega, cluster grenade, three meters out!"

"Aye!" The man stepped out of fire as the woman did, putting off clean shots from her sidearm that ripped hunks out of the Husks swarming across the battlefield towards them, commanded ahead by a Marauder in cover.

A ball of blue-black energy bloomed ahead of them and they scrambled to try and stop, falling over each other into it, and then floated up and away as Turian fire arced into their vulnerable forms.

The grenade soared by, crashing into the heart of the outpost and ripping apart Cannibals in its bright orange wake. The Marauder staggered up, stunned, before John stood and emptied his clip into it. As it fell, he reloaded and turned, drawing his Predator to put down a half-dead Cannibal crawling towards them. Across the camp, shelters opened and Turians came out, putting short bursts into the dying monsters as quiet began to descend.

Then someone, somewhere, screamed, "Harvester!"

A ball of molten scrap slammed down beside him, melting rock, Turian, and the shelter he'd come out of in a bright wash of devastation.

A dozen Turians, John and his allies all stepped out, weapons up as they tried to put rounds on the slowly circling monstrosity. All along its back, little balls warped and twisted, bursting as it made a pass on the far side and Husks tumbled towards the ground in the midst of a larger group of Turians. Some of them died on impact, but others landed on the Turians, grappling and clawing at them as they tried to fend them off.

In spite of himself, he took off, running at full speed and reaching for his knife-

Halfway there, something heavy crashed down between him and the group and he was thrown back. He landed on his back, disoriented, but rolled over and crawled back the way he'd come regardless. Something heavy punched down behind him with enough force to send tremors through the ground and he rolled over, empty hand trading the Avenger he'd dropped for his Predator.

The massive monster stood over him, a huge claw-arm ripping free of the dirt and rock as it bellowed and slammed its other arm into its chest. Its red eyes locked on him as it finished its primal display and turned, huge arm coming back to crush him.

An electric feeling wrapped around him as he brought his Predator up, and then he was… Floating, back the way he'd come, until it vanished and he was rolling across the dirt. He came to a stop beside Vega and the man dropped to a knee, arm slipping under his and gripping him by the pit to yank him up onto his feet.

"Brute!" Shepard called out, pointing as more Husks dropped off the Harvester, "T'Soni, crowd control! Surround the Brute until we can get heavy weapons on it!"

"Aye!"

"Commander!" John snapped as his mind raced and he reached for the grenades Garrus had given him. "I can kill it - give me a minute, and then help me get close."

"How?"

"An old Innie trick." Vakarian offered, stepping in front of him and dragging a crate around. "Knife, glue, bomb - stick and run."

"The hell is an Innie?!"

"You can pull it off?" The Commander asked him, turning to look him in the eye while T'Soni stepped forward, lashing out with blue fire to hurling the Husks skyward. He nodded and she returned it, turning and calling out, "T'Soni, when he's ready, get him close!"

"Aye, Commander!"

"We'll get it done, Lola!" Vega called out, swinging his shotgun around like a club and braining a Husk that had slipped by the alien. "Just don't take too long, Mystery Man!"

He didn't answer, instead sliding into cover beside the Turian while he knelt, poking over to pepper more of the Reaper infantry as the Harvester dropped them.

The knife was a long stilleto-styled thang, with a round guard a couple centimeters wide and a handle far too long for his hand - it was Turian, after all. But the extra space worked for him here, letting him spear the black-orange goo he'd been given along the bottom half of it. The grenades were Turian as well, little silver things with a red button embedded into the tops, and he pressed them into the goo carefully, all around the bottom of the grip with their buttons close together.

Whatever the gunk was, it dried quickly and, satisfied, he stood and shouted, "Ready!"

"Brace yourself!" Vakarian warned him, "This'll be a trip!"

Before he could ask what the alien meant, he felt that same odd electric buzz all along his body again. And then the weightlessness that came after, before he was sent hurtling high into the air. He grit his teeth to ignore the vertigo and pushed past the disorientation, tucking his legs up under his rear and pressed the knife against his chest as he looked for his target.

The monster was bloodied by now, but hadn't slowed, ripping through the wall of one of the shelters and dragging a kicking, screaming Turian out with its smaller hand. The alien sprayed fire from its sidearm all along its side, but the monster ignored it, turning and grabbing ahold of its torso with its meaty claw and ripping the soldier in half. Another Turian tried to slip by it, out of the ruined shelter, and the Reaper turned, swinging the bottom half of the other Turian around like a club to throw it off its feet. As it scrambled to get back up, the monster brought its heavy arm around and down, pulverising the soldier entirely in a spray of dark, colorful blood and oil.

After a moment, the weightlessness left, but the static remained as he began to fall. He ignored it as best he could, past the fear of falling from forty odd feet up, and turned towards the brutish thing.

As he came down into it, the static clinging to him 'popped', almost like an atmospheric shield popping as it dropped. Whatever it was, it ate his momentum and saved him from the fall, aside from a lance of pain up his injured side.

The Reaper bucked violently as it realized he was on it, and nearly threw him, before he got a hand around one of the odd pipe-things along its back. Black ooze leaked out from the skin around it, cold and cloying, but he grit his teeth and ignored it - it was still less disgusting than putting his fist through a Bugger's gut. Raising the stiletto and standing up a bit on its hips, he brought the knife down - it glanced off the metal of its shoulder, though, and he was nearly thrown off as his arm slid away. The second time, though, he found a bit of flesh, right along its spine behind its head, and buried the knife there.

He only managed to press one of the buttons before his grip slipped and he was sent rolling off.

He managed to stand as the Brute turned, lashing out with its heavy fist and smashing him away. His head spun and he felt fire lance up his arm as he turned, guarding his injured flank, and took the blow. He slammed into the armored shell of one of the shelters a few feet away and felt the wind leave him before hie collapsed at its foot and turned.

Snarling, the Brute took one step-

Then the grenades went off, blasting away its smaller arm and its head and hurling what was left down into the ground with a titanic 'whump'.

He'd just breathed a sigh of relief when he saw motion and turned, just in time to see the Husk that leapt onto him. It beat at him with its fists and he brought his arms up, protecting his head with one and twisting to cover the other going for his knife-

Then it was dragged off of him and he watched a white-armored Turian leap onto it, talongs disembowelling it like a predator who'd taken its dinner down.

"John!" He heard a more familiar, flanging voice call out and turned, watching as Vakarian came running up to him, Vega in tow. He offered a taloned hand and, flicking a look at the white-armored alien stepping off the fresh corpse, John took it and let the alien pull him to his feet. "Now that was one hell of a trick! Can't believe you pulled that off."

"Me either." He grunted, turning, seeking, and asking. "Commander? The Primarch?"

"She's talking to Victus now." He said, chuckling. "She was impressed, too. She didn't say it, of course, but… Well, I could see it."

"Mhm."

"Hope you weren't plannin' to sit this war out." Vega added, "Stunt like that, she's gonna poach you."

"Another war…" He frowned, turning and looking up at Palaven burning. "Earth is like that?"

"Yeah." Vega grunted, "It is."

"I see." He nodded, turned, and found a rock to sit on. "Then I'm in. For Earth and all of her Colonies."

"Just like that?"

"The Reapers won't not kill me if I sit it out, Vakarian." He shrugged, "And… I did swear an oath. Has to mean something."

Even now… Wherever the hell he was, it had to mean something.

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"None?" She blinked, "None at all?"

"No, Commander." Chakwas answered quietly, standing in front of the dark-tinted windows of the med-bay. She frowned, but clasped her hands behind her waist and stood firm, the picture of military professionalism, as she went on. "Sight, hearing, bone-density, musculature- He's void of any and all of the standard variety of gene-mods."

"Could be mercenary." Garrus offered from just behind and to her side, where he often stood when they were on duty - in the field or not. "Non-standard mods?"

"Only a small implant, at the base of his skull, just to the side of his spinal-juncture therein." The doctor said, bringing up her 'Tool to play up a holo-display of the man's skull for them. At a flick, the display turned and zoomed in on a small chip right where she'd said, barely as large as Shepard's little finger's nail. "It's simplistic, collecting base neural data and broadcasting elements of it to his helmet."

"Bio-monitoring." Shepard nodded, "Expensive but… Useful."

"And expensive." Garrus reiterated, reaching out with a sharp talon to tap at the hologram. "He has that but not gene-mods?"

"As he himself said, it's useful enough." Chakwas answered, closing her 'Tool and frowning. "He was rather forthcoming about it, and the fact he didn't know what a gene-mod even was, once we… Came to an understanding."

"An understanding?"

"I sent him a collection of historical texts regarding history." She explained, "To the Omni-Tool Garrus gave him on Menae."

"History books…?"

"Those should have been available on their own on the Extra-Net."

"They were, Commander, but…" Chakwas sighed, "Well, in short, he didn't know what the Extra-Net even was. Or how to access and use it, once I explained it to him. It was just faster to send them to him rather than teach him how to use it."

"That's… Insane." Shepard scoffed, blinking. "Where does someone grow up and not know what the 'Net is? And get into soldiering without any mods?"

"And not have a translator, either." Garrus added, chuckling and turning, pacing over to the table idly as he joked. "Nowhere in this galaxy, Commander, that's where."

For a long moment, they were all quiet, until Shepard thought to ask, "Fuck me, he's vaccinated right?"

"I didn't check, I assumed he'd-" Chakwas blinked, realising the issue before she'd even finished speaking, and flicked her 'Tool back up, scrolling through readings quickly to find what she needed. "He said yes when I mentioned it off-hand, and…"

"And?"

"He has the typical immunological markers for vaccination, but…" She hummed and then her brows furrowed, "Not for everything- And nothing xenological in nature."

"None?!"

"No, Commander." She murmured, "Except he has some markers that are clearly xenological, but… Missed my scan."

"Why?"

"Because while they're clearly alien…" She flicked Shepard a look, "They don't correspond to any known xenological diseases whatsoever."

"Is he carrying?" Garrus asked sharply, "If he's got some weird alien disease, then-"

"No." She said, "He's not. They're all inert markers. Long-dead viruses, consumed by his white-blood cells. I'm just reading templates in his immune system, not any sign of latent infection."

"So he's just… Vaxxed against a bunch of non-existent alien viruses, then?"

"They exist." Chakwas countered, "Just… Nowhere in Alliance or Citadel records."

"That's… That's not possible." She murmured, even as her heart started to race, and her mind with it.

He was a soldier of some description, that much was more than just obvious. And he was a damn good one, too, from what she'd seen. But he wasn't vaccinated for any of the diseases they recognized. Instead, he was inoculated against a bevy of other ones. And he'd shown up in the middle of nowhere…

Over Menae, of all places.

Her mind could only come up with two answers to the situation. And the lack of gene-mods and odd, foreign immunological imprints made zero sense for the more rational of them. Cerberus, Reaper or otherwise - they wouldn't send un-modded spies into enemy lines, especially so overtly. Cerberus especially preferred their spies to be elite, highly modded, soldiers able to hold their own against anyone.

Or… Androids.

"Damn it." She sighed, "Why can't my life be sane just once?"

"Uh…" Garrus blinked, "It'd be a lot less interesting?"

It was so hard to resist slugging him…

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The digital archive was exactly was what he'd asked the doctor for - a dense, heavily annotated and sourced, collection of historical texts and documents. It began in the nineteenth century, and ran on to the present day. Twenty-one-eighty-three, mid-July by the Earth calendar. Skimming the early centuries had only offered a few differences, but all of them were small. Minute. Almost irrelevant.

Still, they added up to his suspicions.

The point of divergence - true, hard divergence - came with the exploration of Mars. And, ultimately, the discovery of the Sol Relay.

He'd continued on for a time, but stopped shortly after the First Contact War.

"Turians." He murmured, leaning back on the medical bed and eyeing his armor in the far corner, where he'd stowed it ater Chakwas ordered him down to his combat suit.

They'd attacked Humanity - the Alliance - and killed many of his people. Or at least, his species. Taken a world from them… And he'd fought for them.

Bled for them.

Nearly died for them…

At first, the idea had made his stomach turn. But then…

He remembered.

The Turians had saved him. Armed him. Fed and tended to him, and even bled for him, too. While their home-world burned above them, they had fought and died for and with him. He'd have died without them, several times over. So… What was he meant to feel? About aliens that fought for him?

"Would I be any different?" He murmured, "If I hated them for what they are? Or… Would I be like them?"

Like the Covenant…

The door opened and dragge dhim out of his thoughts as a woman with dark red hair tied back into a crisp bun stepped in. She was powerfully built, and carried herself with a firm, powerful presence that befitted the pressed black and blue uniform she wore. Her name read 'Cdr. Shepard' on her breast, but he ignored it, watching the rest of her as she stepped in and the door closed behind her.

Slowly, he turned and stood, wincing and pressing a hand against his bandage-wrapped ribs.

"Please." She smiled, waving for him to sit and then taking the doctor's seat to prompt him further. As he eased onto the bed she leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and said, "Doctor Chakwas tells me you're in pretty rough shape."

"I'm fine." He said quickly. Automatically.

He saw by the crinkkle of the corners of her eyes that she saw through it.

"Class one bruises across most of your back, seven ribs bruised or fractured - or both - as well as a bullet wound, a sprained shoulder, and a sprained ankle." She smirked, "Hardly 'fine' by most people's opinions."

"Most people are idiots."

"Or just lucky." She chuckled, "But you're not most people. Ii can tell from the… Rest of her medical report."

"The rest?"

"You're… A soldier?" His brows furrowed deeply at the sudden question, and he crossed his arms, missing the safety of his armor as she frowned and leaned back. When he didn't speak, she said, "I'm not your enemy… John, was it?"

"Mhm."

"I'm just trying to make some things add up." She pushed, "I could use your help with that."

"I don't even know who you are."

"You saw my tag." She challenged gently, explaining anyways, "Commander Jane Shepard, Alliance… Well, I'm not sure, really, but I'm Alliance at least."

"What do you mean?"

"I was in prison when the Reapers came. Stripped of my rank." She shrugged, "It was reinstated when I escaped Earth."

"Ah."

"And you're stalling."

"Hmph…"

"I just want to know why, John."

For a long moment, he was quiet, and she was too. He wasn't sure of what to say and, somehow, she seemed aware of that. And she was evidently patient enough to wait for him to figure out what to say. Or just how to say it.

Finally he sighed and asked, "How much do you know about Quantum Theory?"

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"I don't know what to say, Commander." Admiral Hackett frowned, "It sounds… Insane."

"I know, Admiral."

"No, I mean it this time." He snapped quietly, irritably, one hand snaking up to worry at his scars. "Reapers were one thing. We had physical evidence of them, even if some disagreed over what the evidence pointed to. We still had it."

"I know." She sighed, "But, respectfully, Admiral, the only other possibilities don't-"

"You're report had your reasoning, Commander." Hackett cut her off, smiling politely to rob the action of any offense. She nodded and he went on, "It's just… Even for you, this is a big claim."

"It is."

"And you believe him?"

"Honestly?" She raised a brow, then sighed, "No. Or, well, I do, but… I don't want to. It's just… Too much."

"But?"

"It tracks." She shrugged, "And besides, think about everything else we're dealing with. Giant metal death lobsters. Mind control. Sentient bugs-"

"That one's on you."

"Fair." She chuckled, "Regardless… Well, why not multiple dimensions?"

"If that's what's happening." Hackett nodded, and then sighed wearily. "Well, for now I'll trust your judgement, Commander. An extra rifle won't hurt your chances out there. Just keep an eye on him."

"Understood, Sir."

"Good. Now that's done…" He grimaced, "I need you at Eden Prime…"

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Adeter :

Same. Imma take more time with it this time around, though.

Victorius :

No, for spoiler reasons.

Weapon Guy (Guest) :

So far as I know, the M7S doesnt' fire explosive rounds. Just light-armor-piercing. In ODST, so the one he'd have, the M7S fires 5×23mm M443 Caseless Full Metal Jacket/.197 Caliber rounds. Full metal jacket rounds aren't explosive.

Meanwhile, in the books, a basic bitch Predator can rip literal hunks off people. And small weapons like the Carnifex can even pop heads in-game.

Cooldude :

ME's lighter rounds do tend to over-penetrate. But due to their sheer speed, this tends to result in a lot of ripping and tearing if a thing isn't well enough armored to take it.

I haven't read that fic.

Mr McNasty :

The M6/SOCOM that Doe has actually doesn't fire explosive rounds - it fires 12.7x40mm M228 Semi-Armor-Piercing High-Penetration/.50 magnum rounds, functioning as a good anti infantry weapon when the 'infantry' in question is ten foot tall apes.

I do intend to have them separate more, though not necessarily sooner, in this fic. Shepard's job in this isn't to stem any bloodloss after all - it's to function as a scalpel in a surgeon's hands. To fix problems so the 'body' - the galactic governments - can fight off the disease at hand.

So, while he will get pulled off for his own jobs, or to function as part of an operation under her purview, he'll spend most of his time with Shepard.

This is also for character interactions, lol.