A/N: Okay, so... welcome to my first attempt at a serious, full-length fanfic on this site; a crossover between the Mass Effect and the Destiny universes. I've been a fan of the Destiny series ever since I picked up the first game about a year after it was released. Mass Effect was until recently one of the games I'd intended to pick up, but never got around to actually playing. However, thanks to the quarantine, I've had more than enough free time to burn through my backlog. Over the last few weeks, I've worked my way through the entire series, and while I was a bit disappointed in the ending of the third game, I fell in love with the writing and the characters. A good friend of mine pointed me to several excellent fanfictions, which is what inspired me to start writing this. I've been writing short stories off and on for a couple of years, but I've always wanted to take a shot at something on a grander scale. This one is planned to be between 100-150K words. I'll be updating once a week, circumstances permitting. This is one of my first times publishing any of my writing online, so any and all criticism is appreciated.

Chapter 1: The Bad Beginning

So… where to start? The beginning? Sounds good to me.

I suppose it began in a time before… time, as cliché as it sounds. There was a garden, and inside the garden there were two beings. I couldn't describe them; you don't have the words for it. They were… known as the Gardener and the Winnower. And inside the garden, they played a game. The details, sadly, are lost to time. All I know is that the game was played by the growth of flowers, and the patterns they formed represented the future of the universe to come.

The Gardener and the Winnower played the game, thousands upon thousands of times. But, in every iteration, there was a single constant. A single pattern that eventually subsumed and dominated all others, infinite in scope. The Winnower saw this and was pleased, seeing the pattern as better and more worthy than the weaker ones that came before. But the Gardener saw this and was vexed, desiring an infinite progression of new and novel patterns instead. However, within the rules of the game, this was impossible.

So, the Gardener created a new rule. This rule was set aside from the others, unbound by the others. With this rule, the Gardener hoped to make its dream reality. But the Winnower, seeing the Gardener's work, was displeased. So, it too created a new rule, set aside like the other, to counteract the Gardener's interference. It was then that the Gardener and the Winnower came into conflict, and the garden was broken and ruined by their struggle. Amidst the calamity that vexing pattern escaped into the only place it could go, the universe, newly created from the destruction of the garden and the end of the flower game. But the pattern did not adapt to the changes caused by the new rules, it could not understand them. It's still out there, somewhere, though it's no longer quite so inevitable.

In case you haven't been tracking so far, what I just described was the founding of the universe and the creation of two of the great paracasual forces, the Light and the Darkness. The two being the rules set aside from the game, with the others being the laws of physics. What's that, you say? How do I know about all this? Well, I was there, of course. Just kidding, could you imagine? No, I heard about it from someone else. Who? That's a secret. Wish the Gardener would have told me, but she just doesn't do personal appearances these days. A bit ironic, considering I'm technically aligned with her. More of a 'signs and wonders' kind of gal, I suppose.

I'll skip the boring physics and whatnot, I'm sure you've heard it before. Matter forms, condenses into gas, gas into stars, stars into everything else. Sometime during the first handful of seconds of the universe, the Gardener apparently made… something. We called it the Traveler, but even after centuries of study, it's still a bit of a mystery. Don't worry about it, we'll come back to this later.

Fast forward a few billion years, and we find ourselves in the modern era. I'll give you the short version; Humanity evolves on a watery rock called Earth, before finding the Traveler terraforming a nearby planet called Mars. The Traveler chooses to help mankind for its own mysterious reasons, terraforming the rest of the solar system into habitable worlds. Humanity enters a golden age of unprecedented technological and economic prosperity. The Traveler's ancient enemies show up and all but destroy our civilization as the Traveler puts itself into a coma to protect a small portion of the world. In its final moments, it creates thousands of tiny machines called Ghosts, each with a mission to seek out and revive a single human, their "chosen." These humans band together, form an organization known as the Guardians to use their gifts to protect humanity.

I am one of these Guardians. One of the last. There aren't many of us left, not after the Red War devastated our ranks. We're rebuilding, but every year there are fewer Ghosts, meaning fewer new recruits. This makes every Guardian an indispensable resource, which leads to my current mission; track down a Guardian who vanished exploring the Vex portal network.

Did I tell you about the Vex? No? Well, I'll give you three guesses where that name came from. Turns out, the Vex are a race of machines with all kinds of bullshit powers like interstellar teleportation, near-perfect reality simulations, and even time travel. They've also been hanging around our solar system for the last couple million years. However, they haven't been doing much before the collapse. Honestly, I don't know why they haven't killed us all yet. Maybe we're not important enough to be worth it.

That's enough exposition. Where was I? Right, on a mission to find some Guardian. Honestly, who would be dumb enough to get lost exploring the Vex portal network? Or even explore it, period. Vex tech is scary; you step through the gate and you have no idea where or even when you're going to step out. What was that guy's name again? Something something, starts with a T? Who even names themselves-?

"Guardian? Guardian? You there?" A voice says. I blink twice. My vision swims, before resolving itself into the sight of my Ghost, hovering a few inches away from my face. I can see it spin as it bobs gently.

"Hm?" I grunt. "I'm fine. Just… thinking." I nod briefly, sitting upright in my chair. What was I thinking about? My head throbs, but the answer eludes me. It seems like I spaced out harder than I thought. I'm sure it isn't important.

"Don't hurt yourself." Ghost chortles. "We'll be arriving at Mercury soon; you should get ready. Scanners aren't picking up a significant Vex presence, but you never know with these damn machines."

"Aren't you technically a machine too?" I muse, looking at the dashboard of my ship and flicking off the solar shield. I squint for a moment as the shades retract, allowing the sunlight to filter in through the viewscreen. Silhouetted against the blackness of space and the faint pinpricks of stars, I can see Mercury shining softly, growing ever larger as we enter orbit. The entire planet is shaded an off-white with thin streaks of brownish dust, a consequence of the Vex structures completely encrusting the planet.

"…" Ghost spins softly for a moment before flashing briefly. "Touché." Turning to the viewscreen, it expands into a blue sphere as it gazes outwards. "I still don't like this, for the record. This guy could literally be anywhere in the galaxy, and if he hasn't come back yet, it probably means he can't. What's not to say we don't follow him and get stuck too?"

"Its nothing," I respond. "Honestly, this is going to be a short mission one way or the other. We have the coordinates for his landing site, so we go in, search for his trail. Apparently, the guy was a fan of auto rifles, so we can probably just track him down by following the bullet casings."

A flashing light alerts me to contact on the scanner. "Looks like our Guardian's ship," I say. "We'll make landfall in five."

Reaching across the console, I grab my helmet, slipping in on and engaging the pressure seals in my collar. The world goes dark for a moment before the viewscreen boots up, external sensors relaying data to the interior of the helmet. Almost like the old-school AR gear I saw in a museum, I muse silently. I glance down to my HUD, checking the seals on my voidsuit. Mercury has no significant atmosphere, so a suit breach would mean a quick death. Thankfully, my armor's diagnostics are green across all systems.

Suddenly, the ship begins to shake as we descend through the atmosphere. I can see the dirty-white of Vex stone bloom below me as we draw close to the surface. "Alright, Guardian." Ghost says, "We'll be in transmat range of the surface in a few seconds. Are you ready?"

Dragging my assault rifle across my lap, I nod once. "Ready. Send me in." My vision flashes white, and I feel my stomach sinking as I suddenly feel my body adjust to a standing position. Dust flares up as I land on a flat slab of stone, a few dozen meters away from a Kestrel-class jumpship. Walking over, I notice a large, blackened scar on the left of the ship where the armor plating was boiled away. Waving my hand, I direct my Ghost towards the damage. After hovering over the gash for a few moments, Ghost spins several times and turns to me. "Looks like a Cyclops got a lucky hit." Ghost flashes briefly. "Must have happened while he was landing. Didn't hit anything critical, but she won't break orbit without some repairs. With a few minutes, I can-."

"Ghost!" I interrupt. "Take a look at this." I point towards the horizon. A few miles away, set into the side of a large cliff, I can see a massive Vex gate, easily large enough for two Gate Lords to walk through abreast. More importantly, it's still active. "A thousand Glimmer says that's where our Guardian went. I see sparrow tracks heading in that direction."

Holding out my hand, I begin to enter the command to summon my sparrow. After a few seconds, I see a shimmer as it transmats in a few feet ahead of me. Placing a hand on the back of the seat, I swing myself aboard in a single, practiced motion. Before I can gun the throttle, Ghost flies in front of me, blinking rapidly. "Hold on a moment!" It exclaims. "If that portal's our culprit, our Guardian may be trapped on the other side. It's large enough, perhaps we should take the ship through?"

I pause for a moment, considering. If our missing Guardian is stranded there, the other side of the portal may be inaccessible on foot. The entrance is easily large enough to fly the ship through, and if it's still open... then it's probably not liable to close soon. Dismissing my sparrow, I nod to my Ghost. "Take me up. We'll fly through and see what's going on."

Another flash of light and I'm sitting in my ship again, flying towards the gate in the cliff. A few moments later, I throttle down as we begin hovering near the glowing white portal. "Ghost." I order, "Drop a beacon at this position and send a status report to the Vanguard. Let them know what's about to happen and tell Amanda to send down a salvage crew for the dropship. Don't want the Vex scrapping the thing before we get back, and I'm sure she'll be drooling for the chance to get her hands on a working NLS drive for her little projects."

Ghost flickers. "Shouldn't we… try to find the guy before we jump straight to parting out his ship?" He asks. "It seems a bit… excessive."

I wave my hand. "That thing's a piece of junk." I disagree. "If he makes a fuss about it, I'll give him one of mine. I'm pretty sure I never scrapped that old Kestrel we dug up in the Cosmodrome." Opening my armor's storage menu, I quickly flick through it to ensure I have the right loadout. "Looks like I'm all set."

Ghost is silent for a moment. "Transmission received." He says. After a pause, he speaks up again, "The Vanguard wishes us luck. Let's go."

Throttling up, I guide the ship into the gateway. In a flash, the world around me blurs into a kaleidoscope of colors stretching out into infinity. As suddenly as it came, the kaleidoscope vanishes as a shudder passes throughout the ship, and I feel a sudden lurch. A great feeling of emptiness pervades me, as I gaze out of the viewscreen into what appears to be an infinite, featureless white plane.

"Where are we?" I hear Ghost wonder, as I turn the ship. Instead of the Vex gateway, an equally empty expanse of whiteness greets me. "Guardian? What did we do?"

"I don't know." I say, chewing on my bottom lip. "I have no idea where this is. Can the scanners pick anything up?" I glance down at the console. Immediately, I can tell the instruments are going crazy, holographic and digital displays flickering through values and readouts at a dizzying pace.

"No." Replies Ghost. "I'm not getting anything… wait... two returns, seven o'clock. A Guardian IFF and some sort of energy signature. IFF is eleven klicks out, signature about twice that." The lights of Ghost dim. "I'm not picking up any Light from the IFF return. If that's him out there, he's gone."

Spinning the ship around, I slowly fly over towards the IFF. As we draw closer, a small speck quickly resolves into a sparrow, drifting through the endless void. Further away, I see a blackish, spinning disc. Looking around, I can see no sign of a body. "Maybe he ditched it and found some kind of way out?" I asked. "There's nothing else on the scanners, right?"

"Nothing but the energy signature a little further out." Ghost says. "If I had to guess, we appear to be stuck… between gateways. It's possible that the gateway's destination was destroyed or deactivated before we could exit, dropping us here." Swooping lower towards the console, a thin beam of light extends to connect him to the controls. "I'll bring us in." He says, "Sit tight."

Settling back in my chair, I gaze intently out the viewscreen. After a minute of slow progress, we close in on the disc. Grabbing the stick, I bring the ship to a standstill. "Is that it?" I ask. The disc seems to pulsate, thin streams of white appearing to spiral in towards the center, the only point of contrast against a blank background.

Ghost bobs up and down. "Seems like it. It might be a way out. Worth a shot, you think?"

"It's worth a shot." I say. "But… standby for resurrection." Throttling up, I slowly edge the ship towards the disc. As we draw closer, my vision begins to stretch, as if we too are twisting towards the center. For a moment, I flashback to an old conversation I had with Ikora and Cayde about something called a… black hole? Black hole… "Oh, shit!" I cry out, "A black hole-!" But something seems to grab ahold of the ship, and everything goes dark.

"Guardian? Guardian! Wake up! I need you to wake up!" I hear as my eyelids flicker open. With a start, I snap to attention as I find myself slumped over the console, with Ghost fluttering around me. "Finally." He says. "I've been trying to rouse you for hours now. We're… somewhere out in space, and I just picked up a contact on the long-range scanners."

Looking out the viewscreen, I can see a thick, purplish haze all around us, obscuring anything else out there. "What…" I rasp, feeling my dry throat clench. "What am I looking at, Ghost?"

As I twist to retrieve some water from behind the seat, I hear Ghost whirring as he flits around the cockpit. Turning back and slotting a straw into one of the ports on my helmet, I take a drink as he explains. "We appear to be in an unknown nebula. I've caught a few glimpses of stars here and there, but they match up to no star charts I'm aware of. I can't get a signal back to Earth, though there is an obscene amount of white noise coming from the direction of our contact. It doesn't match any known Vex communication protocol. However, the nebula is degrading the signal severely, to the point where I don't even know if it's artificial or not. I theorize that whatever breach in the gateway network that we passed into spat us out into deep space."

"Deep space?" I say. "We're deep in the shit now if that's the case. Better hope that signal is from something intelligent because an NLS drive isn't suited for interstellar travel. We'll run out of fuel long before we can make it back, even if we figure out where we are." I sink down into my chair, deep in thought. "Point us towards the contact you mentioned. Hopefully, we have enough gas in the tank to make it there, and they don't shoot us on sight."

As Ghost adjusts the controls, I think to myself. Okay, so, status report. Stuck in deep space, possible alien contact on the proverbial horizon. Best-case scenario, it's either Fallen or Cabal, something I can hijack a large enough ship to get back to Earth. They might have useful star charts of the area too. Worst-case scenario, it ends up being Vex or something even worse. I don't even know if Vex have starships, and I'll be damned before I set foot back in another gateway after this. And Traveler only knows what kind of monsters lurk outside the heliopause. This far from the Traveler's light, I wouldn't be surprised if I run into the Darkness itself.

But hey, it could always be worse. Hell, it might just be nothing at all. Some long-lost transmitter, maybe an abandoned space station, or even a giant space worm.

Okay, maybe I've been watching too many vintage sci-fi vids. Space travel is damn dull, though. Just point yourself in the right direction, throttle up, and let go. Hell, the computers handle most of it, all I do is punch in some coordinates and press the launch button. And Ghost isn't a big fan of my… manual flying. I think he's still scared from that time we snuck onboard the Dreadnought. Fun times…

…Speaking of dreadnoughts, holy hell! We're close enough to the contact for the scanners to pick up the dimensions, and it's massive! Okay, maybe not. 44… almost 45 kilometers long, this thing is big, but nowhere near as insane as the Dreadnought. The damn thing was nearly… what was it? 3,400? 3,500 kilometers long? Still, easily over 64 times the size of the contact. Ooh, now the survey data is coming in. Apparently, it looks like… a flower? It almost seems like a five-petaled flower, partly closed. There's a large central ring, with five long arms connected to it. The arms seem to be capable of closing, probably for defensive purposes. It doesn't… look like Vex tech. Or anything else. Only the Vex and the Hive build on this kind of scale, but there's not enough bronze and copper for a Vex structure and a rather distinct lack of spikes and miasma. So, we can rule out the Hive as well. Doesn't seem like Cabal, too smooth and silvery. Cabal structures tend to be blocky and angular, and either gunmetal grey or other dark tones. Fallen seems unlikely unless they stole it from something else. There's a lot of smaller contacts now, departing to and from the… station. Well, at least it's occupied.

I crack my neck and look up from the console. "Ghost?" I say. "Any ideas what the hell that is?"

"I'm not sure." Says Ghost. "The signal data is clearing up steadily, but the construction of the station is unfamiliar. The smaller vessels are also extremely varied, with scans detecting radically different materials, hull profiles, and even propulsion systems. There's a substantial, stationary contact that many of these vessels are arriving and departing from. It may be some sort of assisted launch system for interstellar travel. I'll try to clean up the signals we're receiving as we draw closer." The beam of light connecting Ghost to the console vanishes, and he flits over towards the other side of the cockpit.

A few minutes pass in silence before Ghost speaks up. "Guardian…" He says.

"What is it?" I ask. I see Ghost shake slightly, his eye flickering as it often does when he's processing large amounts of data.

"I… I'm not sure. Give me a moment." Ghost stammers. Frowning, I turn back to the viewscreen. Almost a half-hour passes, and the station draws steadily closer. Finally, Ghost disconnects himself from the communications systems and floats back in front of me.

"What's the situation, Ghost?" I ask. "I need to know what we're getting into."

"G… Guardian." Ghost stutters. His voice seems… weak. "I… I can't believe it. I accessed the infosphere on the station and… by the Traveler…"

"Ghost!" I shout, grabbing him with both hands and pulling him close to my face. "I need to know what's happening! I can't be going in blind here. What are we dealing with?"

Ghost flickers rapidly as I release him, shaking himself back and forth. "I… I managed to reverse-engineer their comms protocols… and I found references to Earth. To humans. Guardian… there are humans on that station, among others. I didn't even need to translate; apparently, there's some sort of master program that can translate thousands of different languages in real-time… even accents and intonation are preserved. This kind of technology… it's incredible. Rahool and the rest of the cryptarchy would have killed for this kind of tech. If we can get this to the Vanguard, we could translate millions of captured alien documents and artifacts…"

"Ghost, focus!" I snap. "I don't care about our lack of language barriers, tell me about that station. You said there are humans there? References to Earth? Are we going to be able to sneak aboard, or are we going to have to blast our way there?"

"No… no, it should be fine. I can fabricate the right clearance codes to dock on the station. The humans… there are a lot of humans there. Not slaves." He hurriedly adds. "Just living there. It's an arcology, and apparently the headquarters of some sort of… intergalactic union. Like the old United Nations. And Earth… this is the strangest bit."

"Tell me." I order. "If there are humans here… this is a massive discovery. Along with… possibly peaceful aliens. We might finally have something we can use to help us push the Darkness back."

"Well… we're in the past." Ghost states. "It's the year 2183. Hundreds of years before we left. And that's not the strangest part. Apparently… humanity never found the Traveler. We never had a golden age, we never developed the NLS drive, we never suffered the collapse. As far as I can tell, there are no references to the Traveler, the Darkness, or any recorded interstellar civilizations. No Vex. No Hive. No Cabal."

I choke. What? No Traveler? No… anything? It's not possible. It's not. How? Why? What? "Even… even if we never found the Traveler," I say, "It… how? Is there even Light? What is there? How is any of this real?" I lean over the console, resting my head in my hands as I draw a ragged breath, trying to process this information.

"As far as I know? I don't think… any of that exists. I'm not sure what happened to us. We might have been… spat out in another galaxy? But Earth exists, so that's impossible. Maybe some sort of dimensional travel? Vex technology is known to dip into other timelines. Or we could be inside a simulation. We know Vex can simulate reality with near-perfect accuracy, like in the Infinite Forest. We may have stumbled into something similar."

I remain silent for several minutes, head spinning as I try to make sense of all… this. It's… it's not impossible. Ghost makes sense. This could all be a simulation. If we are back in the Infinite Forest, or something similar, then there must be a way out. A way… "The Guardian." I say, sitting up. "The one we were tracking. We didn't find a body. Did we pick up his IFF when we arrived?" I ask.

Ghost hesitates. "No." He says. "I didn't. It's possible… it's possible that he ended up here too. If that's the case. He may have more information. We should try to rendezvous with him if possible. He may have exited somewhere else or been picked up by another ship. The station is likely our best bet."

"Take us there." I order. We'll see what we can dig up there, I suppose. "Ghost, I need a briefing. Get into their infosphere, I need to know everything I can about that station, those aliens, their tech, and the galaxy. Search for references to the Vex or sentient machines as well, but I need to know enough about this place to get around."

"Alright." Ghost says, his eye brightening. He always loved talking about these sorts of things. "We'll start with a description of the major alien races in this galaxy, along with a brief overview of galactic governance and culture…" I groan slightly, mentally preparing for the next several hours.

Okay. So, I've learned a lot. A lot. Apparently, there are… six? Seven? At least seven major alien races. The most important are given a seat on the Galactic Council, a sort of space UN. What are the names? Turians, some sort of dextro-protein race, they look like… lizard… birds, I guess. Apparently, they're the strongest in terms of military force and dislike humans due to a rather nasty war in relatively recent history. Asari, a monogendered race whose sole defining characteristic is apparently the ability to procreate with anything that sexually reproduces. And Salarians, bipedal amphibians who live for 40 years and have a pathological inability to sit still. There's more, but my head hurts, and I can't be bothered to remember. With luck, I won't have to deal with them much. Humans are apparently widespread on the Citadel, despite being a relatively recent addition to the galactic community. I'm shocked, though, at how humanoid may of these races look. There are some exceptions, like the jellyfish-squid Hanar and hulking Elcor, but overall most adhere to the standard humanoid build. Function begets form, I suppose.

At least communications won't be a problem, thanks to a software patch Ghost wrote for my suit's systems. It should duplicate the functionality of a standard translator. Though I lack an Omni-tool, my suit should be able to accomplish the same tasks in most cases. Ghost can fill in the gaps, thankfully, since he's very experienced at interfacing with alien systems.

Speaking of aliens, Ghost is going to have to go undercover while I'm on this… Citadel. AI are banned throughout the entire galaxy, but simpler, non-sentient versions known as VI are widely used. Ghost will simply remain hidden when possible, and masquerade as a VI whenever necessary. I guess that means I'll be doing all the talking. Oh boy.

"So, Ghost." I say, stretching my arms above my head. "Any plans for docking? I assume it costs… credits? To dock, that is." I wave my hand lazily towards the station, now close enough to be seen on the viewscreen and growing larger rapidly.

"I've taken care of that." Ghost responds. "It's not exactly… legal. Or ethical. But I was able to… secure some funds. Enough for several months, probably."

"Explain." I say flatly, frowning at him.

"I may have… ahh… searched for leaked and unsecured bank account information and funneled money from there?" Ghost fumbled. "It should probably be untraceable. Unless we talk about it. Maybe we should consider not hanging around for too long though. Just in case." He shivered under my glare.

"…Fine." I say. "We're not doing this again, though. Ever. It's going to be suspicious enough, coming here with no identification, we don't need the space police coming down on us for cybercrime." Snapping my gaze to the console, I consider the approaching station. "So how do I hail these guys for docking instructions?"

"I'll give you the frequency." Ghost responds. "I've been monitoring traffic for a while now, just call for Citadel docking authority and ask for instructions. There's no standard protocol, so just wing it and we should be fine."

"Here goes then…" I mumble as I lean towards the comms console. Entering in the frequency, I hear a burst of static before thumbing the transmission switch. "Citadel docking authority, this is… uhh…" I glance towards Ghost. "This is civilian craft Extinction Event, requesting permission to dock." Releasing the switch, I hear another burst of static.

A moment later, the radio crackles to life. "Extinction Event, this is Citadel docking authority. You new here? We call you for docking." I snap my gaze towards Ghost, who seems to be shaking slightly. "Whatever. What's your tonnage and dimensions?"

After relaying the information, the radio goes silent before crackling again. "Extinction Event, proceed to Citadel docking bay B-113A, heading as follows…"

Several minutes later, after I set the ship inside a rather spacious hangar, I turn to Ghost. "So, what now?" I ask. "Any ideas where to start looking?"

"Not yet." Ghost responds. "But, you may need to deal with them first." He inclines towards the end of the hangar, where three… turians? Three turians are approaching the ship. Two are wearing black and blue armor, with sidearms holstered. The third, walking ahead of the rest, is wearing what appears to be some sort of civilian clothing. Must be some sort of administrator or clerk.

I nearly transmat out of the ship, before pausing. Do they have transmat technology here? Ghost never brought it up. Couldn't hurt to keep it hidden. So, I pop open the canopy before clambering out and dropping to the floor. Standing up, I walk briskly towards the three aliens, who seem somewhat taken aback by my appearance.

"You sure this a civilian vessel? Pretty heavily armed for one." One of the armored turians rasps, gesturing towards the missile pods on my ship. "And you're looking no slouch either, what with that black armor. What's your business here?"

I hold up my hands. Don't want to risk some sort of altercation. "Relax, please." I say. "It's registered as a civilian vessel." I hope nobody bothers to try to double-check that. "And this is simply a remnant of my days as a… mercenary. I don't have anything else space-worthy though, and the old bird's had better days, eh?" I chuckle, slapping the side of the ship lightly. "I'd hate to go out because the damn thing decided to spring a leak on me mid-voyage."

The turian looks mollified, as the civilian in the front speaks up. "Our apologies, sir. Your transaction proceeded without incident, so you're in no trouble. The Extinction Event is cleared for one standard week here, once you sign the necessary forms." He holds out a tablet of some sort, which I accept, quickly flicking through the forms. The Citadel docking authority accepts no responsibility for damage due to negligence, blah blah blah, under no obligation to pay for costs of repair or replacement in case of whatever. Checking the boxes, I come to the signature line and freeze. What… should I write? My name? Do I want to give these people my name?

I don't even have any sort of ID yet. Maybe they can help me with that. With a shrug, I sign my name on the dotted line and hand the pad back to the clerk. He looks down at it for a few moments, before powering it down and nodding. "Thank you, Mr. Urs. I hope you have an excellent stay aboard the Citadel. When you depart, please contact the Citadel docking authority at frequency…" The turian's voice drones on as I tune him out briefly, trusting Ghost to remember anything important.

"…docking authority is only obligated to hold your vessel for one week after the expiration of your permissions, after which it is liable to be seized and sold at auction. Do you understand?" The turian finishes, looking at me.

"Crystal clear, sir." I say. As he starts to turn, I raise my hand, halting him. "If you wouldn't mind, I had another question?"

"Ask quickly." The turian says, seeming mildly frustrated at being delayed.

"Well sir, I've traveled here from outside of council space, and I need to know where I can go to get valid identity documents." I say, surprising the group. The two armored turians glance at each other, their posture uncertain. The clerk looks shocked before quickly smoothing his expression. Or at least I think it was shock. It's hard to tell on a race without lips. Or eyebrows.

Clearing his throat, the clerk speaks up again. "From the Terminus systems? That can be arranged. Just walk outside here, you'll see a holographic map of the wards. Look to the northwest, you'll see a club named Chora's Den, the bureau you need is just three blocks fronts further down." He looks me up and down for a moment before muttering so quietly I could never have picked it up without my helmet's sound enhancements "Damn mercenaries."

Best to let it go. I nod slightly, giving no indication I heard his comment. "Thank you." I say.

"Cause no trouble." He warns, stepping aside. I walk past, seeing them watch me in my helmets rear cameras as I walk out of the hangar.

Quickly ducking aside, I whisper to Ghost. "How was that?"

"Not as well as I hoped." He responds. "They were pretty suspicious of us. I guess mercenaries aren't exactly welcomed here." He chuckles. "I guess that's normal, though. It could be worse. I have a map of the area, I'll set a waypoint to the building." Looking up, I see a white dot blink into existence on my HUD, indicating the direction of the bureau. Glancing around, I set a brisk pace towards my destination.

A few hours later, I find myself walking out of the bureau, new identity papers in hand. Or… in suit, so to speak. Not sure how I'll explain pulling my documents out of my armor matrix since Ghost mentioned engram technology didn't exist in this… reality? Simulation? Dimension? I need something to call this place. I hum softly as I walk along the corridor. Reality will do. Nice and ambiguous.

Speaking of reality, I stop as I realize just how… well, I'm taking this. Wouldn't an average person be breaking down at this point, screaming and crying? Curiously enough, I can't really feel… anything. Just a vague sense of disorientation and confusion due to my surroundings, seeing such unfamiliar environments. I guess life as a Guardian prepares somebody for unusual situations, though. More likely, it's a side effect of the Traveler's indoctrination. Fear and panic aren't exactly something any Risen feels, among other things. "One more thing the Traveler took from me… at least this one isn't so bad." I mutter.

The aliens are the strangest part out of all of this. Every time I see one, I get that little dose of adrenaline, that small spike of fear and excitement as my body prepares to pull out a weapon or throw up a barrier. Years of being conditioned to regard every alien I see as hostile, I suppose. Thankfully the halls seem to be mostly deserted at this time, with only a handful of passers-by. I draw a lot of stares, though. Comes with the territory, 6'5" humans wearing full titan armor probably isn't a common sight anywhere in this galaxy. I need to get some sort of civilian disguise, I muse as I walk along. However, a large part of me isn't exactly comfortable without my armor on in a public space.

"Wow…" I say, looking at my armored boots. "I don't think I've ever worn anything else besides armor. That's… strange to think about." I weave around a small gaggle of asari walking down the corridor, continuing my musing once they leave earshot. "Maybe in my old life, before the Guardians. Guess it doesn't matter if I can't remember it, though."
|

As I wander through the Citadel, I find myself turning down an alleyway, behind a… market? Of some sort? Walking along, I see a strange, suited alien standing alone. As I wander closer, they freeze up, before looking towards me.

"A human?" They ask me. Their voice is… strangely accented, but unmistakably female. "I was expecting a turian."

"Hmm?" I say, looking towards her and stopping. "I don't believe I have any business with you. Sorry." I twitch slightly just as I apologize, a shiver running down my spine. What's going on? For some reason, my instincts are screaming at me right now. Something's wrong here, something dangerous.

"Oh." She says, looking down at her feet. A pair of three-fingered hands wrap around her shoulders as she crosses her arms over her chest. "I apologize… I just thought…"

My head snaps around as I spin on the spot, instinctively calling the Vestian Dynasty to hand with a thought. Faint, but distant gunshots ring out behind me, my minimap updating to the threat as it scans for armed threats. Further away, I see three dots approaching my position, highlighted yellow for possible hostiles. I glance back to the… queerian, wasn't it? No, quarian. Something like that? She lurches backward, nearly toppling over as she sees the handgun materialize.

"What… what are you doing!?" She hisses, pointing her own pistol at me. "Did Saren send you? He sent you to kill me before I send the information to the Shadow Broker, didn't he?"

I raise an eyebrow before I realize she can't see that under the helmet. And… probably doesn't understand human facial expressions. Right? "No," I say, "I have no idea what anything you just said meant. Can't you hear the gunshots?"

She tilts her head to the side, pistol lowering slightly. "Gunshots? No." She says, her voice trembling slightly with nerves. "I didn't… who are you?"

"A Guardian." I state simply. "It looks like your friends are coming. I'll, ah, get out of your hair. If you have any, that is." Sending my pistol back into my suit storage, I quickly step around her and continue walking down the alley. "Not my problem." I say to myself. "Just keep moving. No time to get mixed up in random firefights."

In my rear-facing camera, I see her turn to watch me as I walk away, before turning back when three alien figures walk into view. Just as I was about to turn the corner, I see the quarian step back, with the two salarians raising their weapons. "Fuck." I say, turning around and dropping to the ground, calling out No Land Beyond. "This is what I get for having a bleeding heart. And for an alien, dammit!" As I fall, I see my armor's chroma systems shutting down automatically to help conceal me in the shadows.

The Salarians open fire, the quarian stumbling back before taking cover behind a crate. I can see some sort of barrier flicker as she returns fire, must be some kind of shielding. Holding my breath, I center the iron sights on the head of one of the salarians, preparing to pull the trigger. "Hey," I think to myself, "First alien I've killed here." I pull the trigger, and the rifle bucks as it sends its deadly payload downrange. Barriers flicker and break, as the salarian collapses with a hole where one of its bug-eyes used to be. The other salarian and the turian falter for a moment, glancing in my direction before taking cover. The quarian seems the most shocked, almost dropping her pistol when she sees the salarian's head explode.

I grin widely as I work the bolt, working a new round into the chamber. Before I can sight up on the next salarian, I hear the sound of heavy boots as three heavily armored figures appear near the top of the ramps, looking at the firefight. One, a turian, points towards the quarian briefly and seems to shout something. The lead figure nods and proceeds to engage the remaining salarian along with their companions.

The turian's shields flicker for a moment, as I sight in and fire. The round misses but forces him to duck down behind cover. The salarian collapses, shields withering under a barrage of bullets from the trio. Chambering another round, I sight in and chuckle slightly as my next shot shatters the turian's shields and punches a hole into his chest. Quickly snapping my sights over to the trio, they seem surprised at my intervention, peering into the alleyway to try and catch a glimpse of me. Standing, I reactivate my chroma systems. The four jump as the purple light rushes back into the conduits on my wrists, pauldrons, and helmet, silhouetting me against the shadows of the alley.

Neither of us moves for a moment. "Fuck it," I say, "Why not?" Lowering my rifle, I walk out of the shadows towards the trio, taking a moment to look over the quarian. Unharmed. Good, I suppose. It would be a waste if they died anyway. Also, didn't ghost say something about how they die if they-

I freeze as the quarian steps forwards, wringing her hands. Looking between us, she shakes her head for a moment before turning to me. "Thank you." She says. "For saving my life." She looks over to the trio. "Both of you."

I take this chance to scope out the newcomers. The turian, I got a decent look at down my scope. Dressed like the two I encountered earlier in the hangar, part of the station's security force, I guess. The others are harder to place. Both humans, thankfully. Both males, one wearing black armor of unfamiliar design, with a red stripe and a large symbol on the side. N7, whatever that means. "Wow," I whisper, "Those cheekbones are to die for." He's a fair if weathered man with dark hair, carefully cut, and a slightly stubbled face. His expression… reminds me of Zavala when he was inspecting all the Kinderguardians after the Red War. The other is harder to read, wearing a helmet and all. Dark eyes with furrowed eyebrows are visible through the visor. "What's even the point if it isn't polarized?" I mutter- Of the three, he is the only one with his weapon at the ready, the other two having lowered theirs after the death of the turian. Fools. You should never drop your guard around a potential enemy. Even with the get-out-of-jail-free card that is endless resurrections.

"So, you are the quarian Dr. Michel mentioned." The turian said, shifting slightly as he holstered his rifle. "I'm glad to see you're still alive."

"Likewise." The first man speaks, glancing at me. "I assume you still have the evidence you wanted to present to the Shadow Broker?"

The quarian nods rapidly. "Yes," She says, "But we should find someplace more secure. Somewhere less out in the open."

The second man looks to her, frowning. "The councilor's office is always available." He starts. "It's small, but there's no danger of being overheard. We should go quickly, though."

"Wait a moment." Interrupts the first. Turning to me, he holds out a hand. "Commander Shepard, Spectre. Thank you for your assistance, Mr.…?"

I shrug, dismissing No Land Beyond. The trio looks shocked, though the man doesn't retract his hand. Taking it, I give it a brief shake. "Guardian Izanagi Urs." I say. "Happy to help."

Looking down at my now-empty hands, Shepard shakes his head. "I noticed you were using a slug-thrower." He said offhandedly. "Those are pretty rare in Citadel space. Why's that?"

I blink twice. "You're asking me why they're rare?" I deadpan. "Couldn't tell you. Don't tell me you made the switch to hard-light already?"

Shepard seems stunned for a moment as the turian moves a hand to his mouth to stifle a snigger. I grin slightly under my helmet. Still got it.

He shakes it off quickly, though, smiling again. "I meant to ask why you use one. They're rare these days. A genuine antique would sell for millions of credits. Ammunition can also be hard to come by outside of the Terminus systems."

I shrug. "I like something with some kick to it. And ammo isn't a problem for me. Besides, they seem to pack more of a punch than those peashooters you have there." I say as I gesture towards their rifles.

The turian speaks up. "He's right, Shepard. That rifle ripped right through that turian, shields and armor. It takes some pretty serious firepower to pull something like that off." He casts a wary eye towards me. "I'm fairly sure that kind of weaponry is illegal in the Citadel…"

"Whoa!" I say, backing up slightly and raising my hands. "I'm not here looking for trouble. Just a… good Samaritan, you know? With guns. Big guns."

The turian turns to Shepard, and they seem to have some sort of invisible conversation as they stare at each other for a minute. Eventually, the turian breaks eye contact and looks at me. "Sorry about that." He says, extending a hand. "Old habits die hard. But I guess I can let it slide this time. Garrus Vakarian, Citadel security."

Grasping his hand, I give it a perfunctory shake. "Guardian Urs." Looking at the third man, I stick my hand out again. "You?"

The man stares at my hand like it was covered in Ogre guts for a long moment before stowing his rifle and shaking it. "Lieutenant Alenko." He says a touch gruffly. Okay, buddy, have it your way.

Looking back to the commander, I raise my hands again. "Soo… do I need to give some kind of statement for killing those guys?" I ask. "It was… well, it wasn't self-defense, but you know?"

The commander seems to think for a moment, before making some kind of hand signal to the other two and turning to me. "You can come with us to the councilor's chambers." He says. "We'll see what happens from there."

"Great." I say, gesturing towards them. "Lead the way, commander." As the others start to move, I fall in behind them, next to the quarian. As we walk, I feel a light touch on my arm. Looking over, I see the quarian looking at me. "Can I help you?" I ask.

"Ah, yes, I mean, no." She stutters. "I just… I wanted to introduce myself. My name is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. And… thank you for helping me."

I chuckle lightly. "Seriously, don't mention it." I say. Looking forward, I sigh and focus my Light into my forearms, feeling the soreness where I dropped to the ground fade away. A bit of silvery light escapes through the suit beneath my gauntlets before fading away again. "Never thought I would be saving an alien's life, I'll be honest." She starts a little when I say this, but soon settles down.

"What was that?" She asks. "That light under your suit."

I shrug again. "Just a bit of… ah…" I trail off. Damn. How did I explain it? There's no Light here, which means abilities like mine are going to raise questions. Shit. "Space magic?" I weakly explain, wiggling my fingers.

She shakes her head. "If you didn't want to talk about it, you could have said so." She replies, a touch frostily. Oops.

I rub my hand along the back of my helmet, miming scratching a nonexistent itch. "It's not that I don't want to talk about it, it's just… a long story, yeah?"

She continues to stare straight ahead, but I can see her head turn to gaze at me out of the corner of her mask when she thinks I'm not looking. Little does she know; a Guardian's helmet provides 360-degree vision. At the cost of splitting headaches when I use it for more than a few seconds. Even Light doesn't help with sensory overload.

We make good time to the councilor's office, thanks to Ghost's interference speeding the mind-numbingly slow elevator along. The other three chat amongst themselves and the quarian in the meantime, occasionally throwing a casual question my way. I've got to be careful what I say around them, since apparently these guys are bigshot military or something, and a stint in the gulag isn't what I need right now. Mercifully, Ghost is able to cut the elevator ride short, much to my companions' surprise. Shit, I think I might have fucked up. Apparently, the long waits are a… feature? What? Why? Well, hopefully, they brush it off. And there's the councilor's office. Or so I assume.

Walking inside behind the rest of the group, I find myself in a… rather well-appointed office. For a mid-level bureaucrat, anyway. I see an older man rise, his dark skin wrinkled, and hairline receding. Makes a man glad he gets to stay in his mid-20's forever, I tell you that. I don't envy the Guardians who were brought back old. I'll be as old as I look soon, won't I? I just saw my 20th year of service before I left on this damn mission. Snapping back to reality, I hear the councilor welcome Shepard back. It seems he was expecting him. I start to tune out again as he starts berating the man for starting up a firefight in that club I passed earlier until he turns his attention to me.

"What's this? A quarian and a mercenary, Shepard?"

"Hey!" I say, "I'm a Guardian, not some two-bit thug." Honestly, the nerve of some people. Aren't humans supposed to stick together?

"Oh?" The councilor says. "And what are you doing here? Mercenaries are not allowed in Citadel offices, and yet-!"

"With all due respect, sir, he did help save the quarian's life." Shepard interjects. "He has just as much of a right to be here as she does."

"Thanks, commander." I add, "But we're getting off-topic. Tali, I believe you had intel to show the commander?"

"Oh. Of course." She says, waving her Omni-tool as she tapped at the holographic interface. "I salvaged this recording from a geth memory core. I was curious when I heard they had left the Perseus Veil, so I tracked a geth patrol to an uncharted system and extracted the core."

"How can you do that?" Lieutenant Alenko asked. "I thought geth memory cores erase their data when the geth dies?"

My eyebrows shot up. "You can extract data from a nonfunctional memory core?" I ask. This would be revolutionary if the city got its hands on it. Vex mind cores may function differently, but if the techniques to recover the wiped data could be replicated...

"No." Tali said. Damn, there goes that dream. "But my people created the geth." She points out. "If you are fast and careful, you can preserve a small portion of the geth's memory before it erases itself. This geth erased most of it's memory banks, but I was able to salvage this recording… here we are."

A grainy, almost tinny voice echoes out of the Omni-tool. I space out immediately, thinking about these geth Tali mentioned. Ghost spoke of them, briefly, when he was talking about the different races in the galaxy. They may be much younger, but perhaps they may have some sort of information or even contact with the Vex? If anyone in the galaxy is liable to, it would likely be another machine race. I can hear the others talking in the background, but my helmet filters out most of the sound per my subconscious desire to think. Hm. I wonder if the geth might have been able to deduce whether…

I look up as I become acutely aware that the room has suddenly gone quiet. I see the others all staring at me, waiting. Shit, did they ask me a question? Crap, what did they say? Ghost do you-?

"Well, Mr. Urs?" The councilor says. "The commander is waiting for your response, as am I. We are busy men and have much to do. What do you say?"

"Um…" I start. "Sure… why not? Yeah, sounds like a good idea to me." Genius, Urs. Genius. I don't know how you come up with this stuff. Now, I just need to give my statement, and I'll be-!

"Very well." Says the commander. "We can always use more help on the Normandy. Welcome to the team, Urs."

I freeze. What the hell did I just agree to?

Six hours and one long briefing later, and I find myself sitting in in the medical bay aboard the commander's ship, the Normandy.Apparently, that question I agreed to without thinking was a job offer of sorts. The commander wants me to help him take down some rouge… spectre? Something like that. Some sort of secret agent gone rogue, real hush-hush stuff. I tried to back out, but I couldn't figure out a way to do it without looking suspicious. I tried to use my ship as an excuse, said I couldn't travel anywhere without it, but apparently the Normandy has a large enough hangar bay to dock an entire jumpship without issue. There went my hopes and dreams of ever getting out of this. Bailing isn't an option either since this is a military vessel, and I'm not looking to be tried for desertion anytime soon.

Well, it shouldn't be too bad, right? Tag along with these guys, kill some gross aliens, take down the rogue agent, and even make some legitimate money. It should be enough to finance my little expedition around the galaxy after this is all over, even if the pay isn't stellar. I'm here already, what's a week or two going to do, kill me?

Oh yeah, it might. See, Ghosts don't do to well far from the Traveler. They lose their connection to the Light, and bam! No more resurrection or other powers. Thankfully, our connection has been stable so far. One more point towards the simulation theory, I guess, since only our distance from the Traveler in real life would matter. I think. Ghost agrees with me, though, so that has to count for something, right?

I'm here now, anyways. May as well lean into the tailwind and see where it takes me.

With a slight hiss, I hear the door to the medical bay open. I look up from my seat on one of the beds as an older woman enters. Her short hair is blonde with a slight hint of grey, early signs of wrinkles betraying her age. Attractive enough, though a bit old for my taste. Ironic, given I'm either in my early 20's, mid 40's, or late 700's given how you care to count my lifespan. "Mr. Urs?" I hear her say. "Welcome aboard the Normandy."

"Thank you." I reply. "I suppose you're here to give me some sort of physical?"

"Yes." She says, "It's standard for all new Alliance recruits. Just a few questions before we move onto the physical exam."

"Well, doc." I smirk. "I'm not exactly joining the military here. But if the commander says it's necessary, it's necessary. What do you need to know?"

"What is your weight and height?" She begins. "At standard Earth gravity."

"I'm 6 feet 5 inches without armor." I say. "About 260 pounds, the same."

"That's a bit on the larger side for your height." The doctor says. "Though you seem fit enough. Next question: do you have any physical handicaps or allergies you think we should know about?"

"None whatsoever." I answer.

"Hereditary problems?" She asks.

I shrug. "If I do, I wouldn't know." I say. "I… don't remember much from before I became a Guardian. No memories of family or anything."

"Hmm." She says, jotting something down on a datapad. "Is there anything else? Serious injuries or illnesses?"

"Too many to count, doc." I say. "I've been shot up plenty of times, broken a few bones here and there. Poisoned a couple of times, but nothing too serious. No illnesses that I know of."

"None?" She says. "Given your… track record on injuries that is quite the accomplishment. No infections?"

"None." I reply.

"Alright." She says. "Just a few more questions before we move on. Please try to hang in there, alright?"

One physical examination later, and I'm sitting on the edge of the bed in the medical bay, struggling back into my armor. You never realize how difficult it is to get on until you have to attach it yourself. Usually, I would just use my suit systems to switch it in and out, but I felt that it would raise a few more questions than I wanted to answer. The disappearing weapons are already going to get me in enough hot water, no sense adding to it. Still, if I have to do this every day… I might start ducking into broom closets to change or something. I snort, thinking of the old golden age comics I saw a couple of times, with the hero jumping into phone booths to change into his outfit. Imagine that, needing to go somewhere just to call somebody.

Walking through the corridors after I finish changing, I find myself wandering throughout the ship. I feel the deck vibrate under my feet as the Normandy prepares to depart from the Citadel. Speaking of… I wonder what they're using to power this thing. Turning around, I make my way down to the engine room, looking around to see what the hell is propelling this ship. Ignoring the whispers from the engineers, I see the drive core, electricity arcing around it as it spins. As I gaze into the core, I hear the sound of somebody clearing their throat from behind me.

Turning around, I can see Tali'Zorah standing behind me. Looking at her in this light… it's strange. Her suit reminds me somewhat of my own, without the bulky armor plates. I wonder if it's void-rated. Their whole species lives on ships, don't they? It would probably have to be, then. I wonder what the purpose of it is, though. Onboard a vessel as large as this, depressurization isn't a significant concern in day-to-day operations.

I blink, realizing I've been spacing out. "Sorry, I was… thinking." I gestured to the drive core behind me. "Never seen anything like that before."

"It's a beautiful sight. Have you never been on a ship this large before?" She asks, joining me at the railing.

"No, I have. Much larger, actually. The core of that thing… woo, boy." I shake my head. "Never had time to stop and admire it, though. Too busy disarming bombs and fighting off waves of Hive." I start as I realize I just slipped up, mentioned a race that didn't exist in this reality. Oops. Maybe she wouldn't-.

"What are the Hive?"

Never mind. Maybe she would anyway. I guess I couldn't be that lucky. "Oh, nothing." I deflect, "Just an insectoid race out in the… Terminus systems. Pretty violent sort, never spread very far." I sweat a little at the lie, the Hive are one of the most populous races in the universe, but they don't need to know that. Can't blow my cover this early.

"Hmm." She hums softly. "You came from the Terminus systems? I assume you were a mercenary?"

"Ah…" I swallow. Damn, does she… no, no way. Just stick to the story. "Yeah, worked with a company called the Guardians." Nice one, me. "We weren't mercenaries, per se. Lots of humans have been having issues out there, being preyed on by the older, more established species. We formed up to try and do something about that." She shoots me a sharp look. Oh, shit, walked straight into space racism. Ghost told me this was a problem. "Its nothing like that. We never took the fight to anybody who didn't deserve it… it's just hell out there, sometimes. It was them or us, and we made a choice, to protect those who mattered to us." Good save. It doesn't look like she's sold, though. This could be bad. Happy people pry less, figure something out. Wait, I got it!

"You know what our motto was?" I ask gently.

"What?" She says.

"Well," I start. "It's a bit complicated to explain, but there were… groups, among the Guardians. Clans, you could say. I founded one, shortly after I joined. We used to be pretty big, nowhere near as crazy as the older clans but still respectable. Our motto was simple, I found it in an old book in one of the cities we fought in. It went; for those we cherish, we die in glory." I shook my head. "A bit on the nose, but you get the point. We weren't out to kill anybody who got in our way, we were there to fight for everybody who couldn't."

"What happened to them?" She asked softly. I snapped my head towards her, eyebrows raised. "Not… not that you have to talk about it… not if you don't want to. I just… you talk about them like they're not around anymore."

"Hah." I let out a short bark of laughter. "Its fine, Tali. Yeah, you guessed right. Everybody there died. Most of them went out in the Red War, about a year ago. We lost a lot of Guardians then, but my clan suffered the most. The rest of us died to a man trying to rush a foe we knew we couldn't beat, just to give me a shot to take it down." I go silent for a moment. Grief isn't something Guardians are prone to, given our nature, but I won't say it doesn't make me a bit melancholy whenever I bring it up.

"Did you win?" I hear her ask.

"Hm? What do you mean?" I say, raising an eyebrow. Damn this helmet. Turns out it's not easy to emote behind an eighth inch of reinforced plating. Maybe I should have gotten that EVA helmet with the transparent visor.

"Did you defeat it? When your clan… died." She says nervously, looking down into the engine core.

"Of course I did." I snort. "Wouldn't be here otherwise." I fall silent, looking at her for a moment. "Hey, a question for you."

"Yes?"

"Why do you wear that suit? Not that it isn't nice, and this is coming from a guy who wears full battle armor to bed, but I can't imagine that thing protects from much more than vacuum." I say as I look a bit more closely, looking at all the straps and buckles on it. Whoever made that thing sure didn't want it to be easy to remove. Makes my armor look like a cakewalk.

"We… the quarians have to wear these suits for our safety. Ever since our homeworld was taken over by the geth, we have lived aboard our fleet. Over the centuries, our immune systems have weakened, until even a simple skin infection can be a death sentence." She finishes sadly.

Damn. That's depressing, actually. At least I can take off my helmet, even if I never want to. It's a choice thing, you know. It's good to have options. Guardians like options. It makes me wonder how they eat. Do they eat? They're aliens… maybe they just breathe ether like Fallen? No, wait, that's the other aliens who wear suits, the short ones. Can't remember the name. Whatever.

"Well…" I trail off weakly. "That's… pretty rough. Sorry about that." I think for a second. "But, hey, I never take this damn thing off either. Maybe we can be suit buddies or something. It's something we have in common, right?"

I can see her chuckling gently, leaning on the railing. "Sure, Urs." She says. "Suit buddies. Sounds good to me."

"You know it, Tali. The rest of these guys don't know what they're missing out on." I say. "Speaking of, I'm off to spread the good word. Don't let the ship blow up while I'm gone. I'd hate to have to get out and push." Leaning back and pushing off the railing, I stroll out of engineering, searching for my next victim… I mean, ah, comrade?

Speaking of victims, I haven't checked on my ship since it's been brought on board. And I swear to the Traveler, if somebody so much as scratched the paint I'm going to introduce them to the business end of an arc grenade. Heading down to the cargo bay, I can see my ship, parked behind… some sort of tank? It looks a bit too top-heavy to be practical, but I assume they've got it under control. I mean, they managed to figure out cheap interstellar travel, so why not, right?

Hmm… looks to be in decent shape. Honestly, I didn't expect much, really. And I have no idea how they managed to get it on board since I know nobody except Ghost and I can fly the thing. Oh well. Good enough. As I turn to head back, I see commander Shepard waiting near the exit. Guess it's time to bite the bullet and talk to the boss? Can't hurt to see what they want.

"Hello, commander." I say neutrally. Can't be too informal, I really don't want to give a bad first, err, second impression. "What brings you here?"

"I was hoping we could talk." He says. "You got a minute?"

"You're the one who's paying me for them. Talk away." Damn, I'm good.

"I just wanted to tell you that I'll be having you sit out the next mission, to get used to the Normandy, and become familiar with the crew." He says, crossing his arms as he leans against the bulkhead. "I'll arrange for one of my men to put you through the paces in the meantime, see where you're at and where we can use you."

"Sounds good to me, commander. You're the boss; you call the shots." I smirk. "Just tell me what you need me to shoot."

"I was curious, too." The commander interjects. "What sort of experience do you have? Just from how you handled the turian alone, I can tell you've got an unusual set of skills. I'd like to know what you can do before we hit the field."

It seems like a good idea. "Fair enough." I say. "As you've seen already, I tend to use slug weapons, instead of the newer ammo-block models. Don't worry about sourcing ammo; I can fabricate it as needed, provided I have access to the raw materials. I can forward you the list later if you'd like." The commander nods briefly. "As for what else…?" I trail off. Now is the moment of truth, I guess. What should I tell him? I should probably keep my healing to myself, just say my armor has an automatic medigel dispenser. My weapons aren't a secret either, so… We'll keep my Ghost and resurrection under wraps, I guess. If I stick to my skillset as a Defender, I can probably pass my abilities off as biotics, given that both powers conveniently glow purple. "Well," I begin, "I'm a biotic first of all."

At this, Shepard raises an eyebrow. "Really?" He asks. "What can you do?"

"Eh." I shrug. "Mostly defensive stuff. Creating stationary barriers, shields, that sort of thing. I have a sort of grenade I can use, it's very powerful. Besides that, I can shape my barriers into physical objects, kind of like hard light. No moving parts, it takes too much concentration, but simple weapons and whatnot are pretty easy." I stop to think for a second. "I can also reinforce my suit's shields if I can get into melee by making a sort of barrier that covers my armor. That's about it." I finish.

Shepard nods at this. "And what about your weapons?" He asks. "I saw it just…vanish. How do you do that?"

I shrug and point over towards my ship. "There's a system on board that thing. Lets me pull weapons to and from the armory onboard at will. Even reloads them for me while they're gone. It doesn't work unless I stay pretty close to it, though." A bald-faced lie since all this is tied to my armor, but Shephard doesn't know better. With a nod of his head, he seems to accept it.

"Well, Urs, that's a pretty broad skillset." He says, standing up. "I'm sure you'll fit in well with the team. Kaidan will probably be happy to have another biotic on board he can talk to."

"Who?" I ask. I have a sinking feeling I know who it is.

"Oh, Lieutenant Alenko." Shephard says, "He can be a bit slow to trust, but once you prove yourself, he'll open up to you." He claps me on the shoulder. "I'll see you around the Normandy, Urs." At this, he walks off, back to his… commandy… stuff. Hell if I know. From what I've seen, the whole ship seems to run itself anyway.

Well, I guess it's decided, though. If Kaidan… sorry, Lieutenant Alenko is biotic, there's no way in hell I'm going near him. If he's the real deal, he'll probably be able to smoke me out as a fake. Well, if I steer clear and use my powers as little as possible, it shouldn't be too bad, right?

Closing thoughts: That does it for chapter 1! Honestly, I was going to split this into two, but I decided I wanted Urs onto the Normandy as soon as possible. No sense delaying the story for no reason. Expect chapter 2 in about a week, unless this story totally bombs. If you have any praise, criticisms, or suggestions, please feel free to reach out to me, I can use the help!