Smoldering engines cast the sleek ship through the emptiness of space as within the newest soldier underneath the command of humanity's first Spectre acclimatized himself to his new surroundings. His training with the archaic ballistic weaponry would serve him well in learning the mechanics of the galaxy's newest take on the mass effect technology left to them by the Prothean Empire.

After the Geth attack on the Citadel numerous Arm's manufacturers and Military organizations noted the synthetic's modification of the internal heatsink. Instead of simply waiting for the weapon to diffuse heat a soldier in the field could eject the burning thermal clip and insert a fresh one to facilitate a speedy return to combat. Not unlike the chemical rounds of yesteryear, a fresh sink could fire a set number of mass accelerator rounds before needing another. While ammunition was rarely an issue for these weapons, shearing off an appropriately sized slug from the block. Thousands of rounds could be fired from a block allowing the soldier to worry only about locating a thermal heatsink, which shared a universal design as opposed to the archaic ballistics. However, like their ballistic forbearers if one were to find himself without immediate access to a thermal clip then the weapon could simply not fire. Most of the older models were phased out and repurposed but a few remained unaltered, such as the mercenary Zaeed's battered Avenger Jesse.

"Based on the weapons you had on you I took the liberty to assemble these to fit your liking." Spreading his arms wide the Normandy's armory officer watched in interest as the larger armored man picked up the semi-automatic rifle examining it with a soldier's precession. Now that the man wasn't barreling towards him with the intent to kill Jacob had many opportunities to sate his previous curiosity.

"The M-96 Mattock, an older rifle but still favored by colonial militias throughout the Terminus and beyond."

The knowledge that the weapons were currently without their needed sinks allowed him to refrain from flinching when the rifle snapped into the soldier's shoulder peering down the barrel and giving trigger several test squeezes only to receive a shrill whine from the internal systems instead of a deafening crack of an accelerator round.

"Ammunition?" Short and terse was the soldier, calling himself a Spartan according to the Commander. All academy cadets were taught the legend of the brave three hundred Spartans and thousand other Greek nationals at Thermopylae. While fiction had, a way of exaggerating the truth of the war the pure martial fortitude and supreme skill spoke to the soldier's adoption of the ancient warrior tribe's namesake. Armed with nothing more than a curved knife the intruder had picked apart half of ground team that boasted some of the galaxy's best and brightest.

"We don't use chemical rounds as your people have but the mechanics are virtually identical. Each thermal clip can fire a set number of rounds, dependent on the weapon before the heatsink needs to be ejected and a new one inserted. Every gun uses the same kind of clip so it's only an issue of running dry if you are fighting people who charge you with knives."

The Spartan didn't seem to notice the joke, or if he did, refused to show it. Not that Jacob could tell with the layers of bulky armor. The Turian leaning against the wall across the room had neither made a noise nor moved since entering rolled his eyes at Jacob's quip.

Hefting a large white cased pistol up the dark-skinned operative deftly tossed it up catching it by the barrel as it descended, extending it towards the Spartan. It was a pointless flashy way of handling a firearm but he wanted to have a little bit of flare, just like in those old gunslinger vids from Earth's past. "The M-5 Phalanx. Heavier than the Alliance standard Predator but I think, you can handle the kickback. Last and certainly not least the Lieberschaft 2180 shotgun or M-22 Eviscerator as it's more commonly known. It is technically illegal in most jurisdictions but we have a bit more to worry about than a couple of treaty violations."

Again the Spartan ignored his joke; he was beginning to know how Joker felt. Though it was his turn to chuckle when the shotgun shrunk down, the Commando cocking his head as he flipped the weapon around.

"Lieutenant, the weapons can collapse into a more compact form. It helps when some of our more, gun-ho, soldiers like to carry more than a few with them. " It was a convenience feature for those soldiers who liked to carry more than a primary and side arm into battle.

Jacob began to wonder if this was what working extensively with Quarians was like. He had only worked alongside the Normandy's Chief engineer for only several occasions and unlike the Commander and Garrus, he had yet to notice the suitable cues of their body language. Though he assumed it would be far more difficult to do so with full plated armor as opposed to the skin-tight bodysuits they wore.

Despite all of it, he could still tell the man behind the opaque visor stared confused at his statement, still unfamiliar with the arsenal that the rest of them had an extensive history with. Given the designs of his own weapons, it didn't come as much as of a surprise to him. Jacob was not overly familiar with the humanity's predecessor weapons but if they did their job then they were fine in his book.

"Well, follow me; I've set up a holographic firing range in the hanger."

Garrus, who only remained in the room because the Spartan had given him a glib apology while he was discussing improvements to his M-92, and because curiosity still overwrote his sensible thinking. Shepard had explained to him briefly about the Human's actions and he understood why he was used as a glorified feet ball. Relieved that at least it wasn't his stunning good looks that had soured the human's attitude, but from what little Shepard had explained the more he became bothered by just how close his own race came to doing the same thing. So mired in their own dogmatic military traditions and discipline that he wasn't so sure the incident at Relay 314 wouldn't have spiraled into another justifiable act of sterilization. Look at what the galaxy did to the Krogan.

Two years ago he had no issue stomaching the nonsense the Council and his superiors had fed him all his life, but as he got to know Krogan like Wrex then his view on the entire ordeal became skewed. Was it truly just to condemn an entire people to a slow death? Krogan were dangerous but the poison inflicted only funneled that into something that did just as much damage. He couldn't offer a compromise but his experience ordeal soured his thoughts. If the Council had not stopped them, would the Turians have done the same systematic slaughter of Humanity as the Spartan's people had experienced?

Following the pair towards the elevator Garrus only vaguely listened to Jacob's attempts to speak to the Spartan. Even Tali's people had brought their nomadic life upon themselves. Trying to exterminate the budding sapient AI had cost them everything leading their society into a slow dissolution.

Shifting his eyes he examined the Spartan as he entered the cargo elevator, despite its size the lift still felt cramped with his bulky form. His armor was advanced beyond the scope of their weapons technology, not to mention training and the advanced artificial intelligence. What were these Aliens that even a people with abilities like these Spartan's had such trouble contending? Would they eventually threaten them? Where were they that he or anyone else had never heard of them. From how far did this Spartan travel to arrive here? Mandibles pursed tightly as he banished the thought, he could worry about hypothetical genocidal alien hegemonies after they dealt with the current homicidal conglomerate of space robot bugs. His life was getting progressively most strange with every mission Shepard dragged him on.

The cargo lift plotted at the bottom level with a whoosh briefly pausing before opening up into the once empty hanger. Now occupying a large portion of it was the Spartan's craft lying just as inert as before. Seeing it now, he was surprised it fit in the hanger bay but Joker's masterful maneuverability had parked the alien ship within. Lost in thought he had to speed up to catch up with the two humans, settled across from the craft near some metal crates Jacob had just begun to explain the course.

It was a simple program, holographic targets would appear at random, and the shooter had to hit them all with as precise a shot as possible. With no amount of ego he could proudly state that he had an almost perfect score, the final target was erratic and nearly impossible to hit, let alone bull's-eye.

"It's fairly simple when the buzzer sounds you draw your weapon and fire at the targets." The dark-skinned human began, as a small video played on his omni-tool dictating an example of the course. "You don't have to worry about damaging the ship or anything; the weapons are programmed to fire mock rounds." He carefully didn't add the part about them worrying about the Spartan using them on the crew.

"Simple enough." The man commented before the program sprung to life and the targets shooting around like wild animals. It was part of the test to see how a soldier reacted to a sudden firefight. Jacob expected a moment's delay, even veterans such as Zaeed needed a moment to process what was occurring before reacting.

Apparently not these Spartans.

As soon as the words left his mouth and the program sprung to life, the Mattock was in the Spartan's hands. Precise shots tore through the floating orange targets faster than the human or turian could react. Unorthodox and erratic pathing was programmed into the final target to make it nearly impossible to acquire.

The silence was broken by the display's praising chime proudly displaying a perfect score. Lowering the rifle the Spartan handed it to the stunned armory officer before making his way to the elevator.

"Sight is off by a centimeter."

The lift door shut behind the larger male leaving the human and turian warriors to their stunned silence. Examining the rifle's stock iron sight Jacob produced a small screwdriver carefully adjusting the misaligned weapon.

"Sure glad he's on our side now." The former Alliance soldier commented while he finished his work. The turian vigilante logging the performance into the database, he wanted to review it later. Once he improved both his marksmanship and hopefully his relationship with the super soldier, he planned to challenge to a contest of skill.

"Indeed. Perhaps we could just dump him and Grunt on the Collector's homeworld. Let those two have fun and sort out this mess."

The young Cerberus operative chuckles as the screwdriver vanished into his belt pouch. "I think there is an intergalactic treaty against weapons of mass destruction Garrus."

"And when has that ever stopped us?"

Sharing another laugh, they too moved towards the cargo elevator. He had some calibrations to do on the main gun before they touched down on Horizon.

Never sleeping. Never resting. Work had to be done. Tests to run. Problems to correct. Mistakes to amend.

"Dr. Solus?"

Distracted. Unacceptable.

"Apologies Dot. Thinking." Fingers blazed across the holographic display as the glowing blue form of the Spartan's AI turned her gaze back to the trapped insectoid violently attempting to break free of its confinement.

Shepard asked, shielding against these Seekers. Without a solution impossible to combat threat. Solution? No, no. Uncontrollable cancerous mutation in humans. Perhaps?

"Dot. Would it be possible? Genetic sample from Spartan soldier. Excellent physical conditioning combined with obvious chemical and cybernetic enhancements. Could devise defense against swarms and more."

The AI paused. Curious, faster than even Salarian thinking, needing time? Strange.

"I am sorry Doctor but I cannot authorize that." She sounded almost. Remorseful? No matter.

"Unfortunate. Will devise another method. Pheromone musk? No, no could cause unfortunate sexual attraction. Dum de dum de do."

It was strange watching the Salarian work, so intensely focused yet prone to random distractions before zipping back to his previous thought. She thought her refusal would spark more of a reaction but the Doctor just accepted it and moved onto the next idea. How strange these aliens be. The Commander had asked the Doctor to fabricate a method to shield them from these paralytic creatures. She asked if she could assist, the Doctor and Commander had no objections, but despite sifting through both ONI's and their ExtraNet, she could find no data that would be helpful in Dr. Solus's attempts. Electronic communications and warfare were her intended design, not biology but she had to assist in some manner. She had to protect her Spartan from any threats.

The noise the Salarian made sounded like a cross between a croak and a yip. It was something she logged in her banks for later. Eyes darted back and forth faster as his slender fingers danced, had he devised a breakthrough.

"Yes. Yes. Will work. Can minimize side effects with Thorazine. Commander Shepard. Have made progress." His speech patterns seemed to match his excited body language, did all of these Salarian possess such hyperactivity?

"I'll be right there Mordin."

She had finished reviewing the brief report from the Spartan's test after Mordin had finished his explanation on his devised method. She understood little of the technical babble but the Salarian assured her that by his calculations the alien swarms wouldn't harass the ground team, within a reasonable margin of failure he proclaimed. She trusted the doctor but sometimes his choice of words did little to eschew her apprehension.

After the demonstration, she had summoned the Spartan to the briefing room his performance in Jacob's test was impressive but she assumed as much. Said Spartan had entered the conference room as soon as she set down the data slate. A crisp salute followed her acknowledgment as she waved the military regulation off. Despite her attempt at levity even, his stance was rigid she couldn't really blame him.

Tragic but at least his professionalism would have its use in the field. Provided he was able to curb his xenophobic instincts and work alongside them as a cohesive unit.

"Lieutenant, you will be accompanying me in the field alongside Garrus, Tali, and Grunt. I trust your issues have been settled?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"You do not have to call me Ma'am, Lieutenant. Despite many of us originating from military backgrounds, this ship is not sanctioned by any government. So long as respect is maintained you may call me whatever you wish."

"Yes, Ma'am."

If she didn't know, better she'd think the Spartan was mocking her. His stiff responses reminded her fondly of her first few months in command of the Normandy SR-1. Uneasy formality tempered much of the deck crew, especially Ash and Kaiden. Thoughts of them soured her mood, the gut-wrenching decisions to leave one of her team to die. Watching as the Normandy screamed into orbit as their nuclear bomb eradicated Saren's perversions. Suppressing the bitter memories she took solace that they had avenged their fallen comrade tenfold at the final climatic battle in the Council chambers. Wrex crushing the smoldering skeletal remain underneath his boots.

"I've reviewed your exercise Lieutenant. Impressive results, not even Garrus could manage a perfect score in such a time, and he fancies himself an expert marksman." She still watched to see if he would react negatively to the mention of the Turian. It seemed that his stoicism remained intact if his distaste for the alien resembling his foe remained; he had swallowed the vitriol and set it aside.

"Spartans are the best at what we do, Ma'am."

"Clearly. Now while we await our arrival we can discuss the more mundane side of your, for lack of a better word, employment."

Sliding a data slate across the table, she rambled off minor details. "You will receive a standard pay rate, lodging, and daily food rations. Weapons and ammunition will be provided at the start of each mission."

"That will not be necessary Ma'am."

"Pardon?"

Setting the tablet down on the faux wooden service, he'd only glanced through the laundry list of details. Dot could plow through it as summarize the important bits later. "The lodging and pay, I have no need for money and I doubt your standard beddings would be sufficient. I can make use of the Sabre for bunk if necessary."

She was partial to the odd foxhole nap when occasion demanded it but nothing beat a soft bunk. "That would hardly be comfortable Lieutenant; we can certainly make the appropriate steps to see you are comfortable."

"Comfortability is something civilians and Brass have need to worry Ma'am. I am perfectly fine with the cargo hold."

"I see. Well despite your protests, Cerberus has allotted a budget for the crew. It will be in a personal account should you ever need it." Were all Spartans this pessimistic? Another thing to ruminate in her spare time, luckily there was little outside of ship maintenance and duty rosters she had on her list.

"As our destination is at least a day's travel at FTL and since Dr. Chakwas will never forgive me if I do not submit you for a basic medical examination. That will be the next step before your, employment, is finalized."

"Such frivolity is unnecessary Ma'am, I am without significant injury." The stock response to medical treatment every Special Forces operative regurgitated when prompted. Even she was guilty of it from time to time, much to the dismay of Normandy's elder physician.

The unexpected appearance of a sharply dressed hologram started the Commander briefly. Even EDI had the courtesy to chirp before taking shape. "I'm afraid this is non-negotiable Noble Six, the short and long time effects of the temporal anomaly radiation output are undocumented and risk adversely affecting your combat performance."

A sympathetic smile crossed the Commander's face as she watched the commando silently accept his fate. Moving from behind the conference table, she gestured for the large soldier to fall in behind her. As they exited through the door leading to Mordin's lab she couldn't help but notice more curious stares at their newest member by the cabin crew the Spartan, however, seemed unaffected by . His Yeoman cheerful greeting both of them, clearly she had adjusted to his presence quicker than others.

The short trip down the elevator was commonplace and sometimes made her wonder why the Alliance and Cerberus hadn't simply constructed stairs leading up and down from each deck. Even climbing through the maintenance shafts was sometimes preferable to the snail's pace the cargo lift seemed to drag on. As the door slide open the Spectre almost barreled into a crewman as he rushed into the elevator, devil's possessed.

Catching himself on the wall, he stumbled into a rigid salute upon noticing whom he had nearly offended. "My apologies Sir!"

Returning the salute lazily she brushed off the incident, "at ease Hawthorne. Next time don't stay up halfway through third watch imbibing in the newest cinema releases and maybe you won't be late for your shift."

"Yes Sir, it won't happen again I promise." Once again, in his haste, he nearly runs headlong into the lift's second occupant. The jumbled apology dies on his lips as he takes in the full view of his next victim.

"I'm sorry I wasn't looking."

Crewmen Thomas Hawthorne could only stare at his unexpected encounter words and his previous haste forgotten as he took in the full sight of the Spartan came. Scuttlebutt had spread throughout the Frigate of the strange new soldier but Hawthorne had been busy with his duties to even delve deeper into them. Now standing face to face, so to speak with the very source of the scuttlebutt.

"Excuse me, Crewman." Laying his hand gently on the man's shoulder the Spartan moved past continuing on his way following the redhead. Within the medical bay, the aforementioned doctor sits reviewing a heavily redacted personal file, the sound of the door opening alerting her to her next appointment. "Ah Commander, and Lieutenant I was expecting you. I was just reviewing your medical history Lieutenant, as much as I could beneath the editing. Even redacted your height and weight."

"Must be the same as some Admiral's wife if it is so highly classified." Chakwas muttered to herself not particularly caring if it was heard.

"I am sorry Doctor Chakwas, but all information pertaining to Spartans are sealed under UNSC Directive-" droning from the loudspeaker above the AI companion of her current patient attempts at educating her in the innumerable security clearance levels of their government was both a bore and tiring that she interrupted the tirade with a click of her tongue.

"Yes yes, I've heard enough red tape to last an Asari's lifetime. Now Lieutenant. Strip."

Never was there an order the large commando did not follow without question, it was always for the good of humanity and their war of survival. The Mark Vs were like a second skin, rarely removed except under dire circumstances or duress, so when faced an order such as this it was like a slap in the face. Never was this an order he'd ever expected to hear. "Ma'am?"

"You heard me Lieutenant, armor off down to your skivvies."

It was still a strange request unexpectedly; no matter the number of times the Spartan had been treated for injuries or returned for rearmament it was always uniform. Faceless personal treating the entire procedure like clockwork. Such a blunt demand was outside the norm in regards to this situation and it gave him reason to pause to process it. For a moment. The seals on his gauntlet came undone easily enough as he made his way towards the bed in the far corner, one he recently occupied the hazy memory was any indication. Rage was blinding. Setting them carefully down onto the mattress, he began work on the upper arm and shoulder pieces with a limited degree of success, Commander Kurt was the only Spartan he knew of that could disassemble the complex shell on his own and reassemble it with no issue, a feat of technical and familiarity he himself had yet to accomplish.

"Commander Shepard, while skilled Noble Six will need assistance in facilitating removal of the MJOLNIR Mark V armor. I shall guide you through the steps." The Noble AI directed towards the redheaded Commander who remained near the door.

"Huh?"

She was not expecting to be an active participant in the procedure; in fact, she should have excused herself the moment the Spartan arrived. Curiosity towards the newest and strangest member of her group had gotten the best of her; it was more than likely an infraction of some Alliance regulation she certainly didn't have to worry about those anymore. The chance to see the inner workings of the advanced suit was certain to make Tali seethe with jealousy.

"Starting here, remove the panel and enter this twenty digit passcode."A holographic model was sent to her omni-tool almost immediately without waiting for her acceptance, a complex series of specifications scrolls past the model with the needed code. She probably understood a fraction of what flew by, even living on ships most of her life and being involved in the nitty-gritty didn't prepare her for the technical onslaught that was positioned in front of her. The moment she completed one section the model and file information disappeared from her omni-tool, replaced by another one with no trace of the others ever existing in her history.

It took longer than she thought just for one piece, and the moment it disengaged from the rest she nearly dropped it, owning to Mordin's previous analysis it wasn't a lightweight ceramic like what comprised their armor. After the lengthy process, she was winded despite all her field operations in the short time since her awakening she had neglected to adhere to the basic calisthenics taught by Alliance boot. Carefully choosing to ignore the nagging gaze of the resident physician, she was helped off her knees by the Lieutenant, the last piece of his remaining leg armor now laid neatly on the bed behind him next to the rest. He stood clad in nothing but the black bodysuit that comprised the rest of his armor, although he still towered over her, conjuring memories of her first encounter with Wrex in the gentlemen's club of the Citadel's Lower Ward the loss of the bulky shell reduced his height by several inches.

"Commander. Thank you for your assistance, I can take it from here." Chakwas reminded her of her unlawful status with a polite clinical tone. Dusting herself off the Commander bid both her leave and left, curiosity piqued for now. Whether knowing or not the Spartan AI watched her depart from within the confines of the Normandy's systems, security protocols could easily be randomized after the medical procedure was concluded but Dot was not worried about the Commander interfering with her Spartan's safety. Other eyes were of more concerns.

Though she shared global access to the SSV Normandy's systems, she was limited to basic entry routines such as internal surveillance and civilian communication buoys. Her, humanity's ingrained desire with labeling their vessels after goddesses or significant others, sensitive systems were not at all hard to penetrate if she so chose but she respected the defense intelligence's security. Sophisticated as it may be this, EDI as the rest of the crew had taken to addressing it was no match for the UNSC's ingenuity particularly so with her new enhancements. Though quick to allow them aboard she knew not everyone was as lenient with their intrusion as Commander Shepard was, not to mention the motives of their benefactor. His interest was plainly stated so she had to be careful to protect her Spartan from threats, both extra and terrestrial.

The orange glow of her omni-tool ran across the bare body of the commando as he stood rigid like a tree, most patients were uncomfortable being without a shirt in the presence of their doctor, but the Spartan held no such reservations. After the Commander's assistance in removing the armor, the black bodysuit came off with no trouble, beneath it lay a roadwork of scar tissue, trauma and surgical in nature. Whilst no surprise to the horrors inflicted on the human body by the ravages of war it was still not a sight she wished to see meted out to anyone. She did not need her omni-tool to see several glaring differences in his anatomy aside from the scarring, dark metal prosthesis grafted to his limbs below his left knee and entirely replacing the hand.

At the base of his skull was another oddity, something that upon questioning the Lieutenant and warned about by the AI was a neural interface lace. Standard issue by their military apparently. Relevant non-classified data was forwarded to her terminal by the AI, something she could brush up on later. She was well aware that the AI was intensely scrutinizing all her scans, making sure nothing violated her damned military directives. Nothing on her cursory dermal scans revealed anything groundbreaking, besides the neural lace, it was one she went deeper did she begin to see some abnormalities in his biology. A warning from the AI and the immediate purging of the sensitive data from her omni-tool ended her search but even with the lightning speed of the AI, she was still able to glean some details to memory before they were erased from his omni-tool. As advanced as this Dot was, she couldn't scrub her mind of what she saw.

A curt apology seemed to alleviate the concerns of the AI and the remainder of the visit proceeded with rehearsed efficiency, enough information to satisfy her logs and ensure the commando wasn't going to keel over from his trip.

"You are cleared for active duty Lieutenant. Try to keep it that way if you could." She joked knowing that he wouldn't. His type could never keep out of danger long, a thought that plagued her ever since she began her, "exotic adventure," after graduation.

"Thank you Ma'am." He snapped a crisp salute after redressing the black suit; she now regretted sending the Commander out as the Lieutenant began the reassemble the outer shell. There was no way she could assist him. Peering out into the mess hall, she spotted someone eagerly attempting to flee from Rupert's less than, appetizing, meals.

"Crewman Rolston, could you lend me a hand?"

Ghysu - Because there isn't a need.

ZeroAcception - Someone has too.

Domokind - That was a strategic misplacement. Not because I am exceptionally lazy and usually miss minor nonsense things.

Commissar Critical - Is it heretical, or is it truth. Only the God-Emperor can tell us, and I don't see any Inquisition agents coming to stop me.

Joe - The UNSC's language is English yes but who's to say that the English they speak is in fact English in Mass Effect? Just because it is in the game, because if it wasn't then a broad stroke of the audience would not understand it without subtitles, does not mean that it is. A thing that bugs me about a lot of multi-verse or what not, stories is that the settings usually just assume that the language developed the same way it had in their verse. While yes, it is done to allow an easier transition to the reader/watcher/player/whoever there is no evidence that it would be in reality. Given the lack of data on the subject in reality I went with something a bit different, both as a means to be different (I'm special) and as another source of friction between him and the crew. Something I promptly threw away midway through because it was getting a pain in the ass to write and I cannot speak, let alone write Hungarian. It would be easier for Six to just understand them or vice-versa but it isn't as enjoyable as it would be if there is tension and possible conflict arising from something as minor as a language barrier. You'll notice certain shows, Star Trek being a prime example have throw away lines about how language is never an issue even with species they have never encountered before because of a "Universal Translator". Mass Effect has the same contrivance but again, different for the sake of being different.

Trninjakiller - I'll assume you are referring to the word, Saurian. That is not an attempt at spelling Sangheili, Saurian is a word that refers to something as being of or possessing lizard-like properties. The Elites, would be described as Saurian.

Gammabeta - Because…McGuffin? As for the in-story reason, it was alluded to in the first chapter. The fragment of Cortana the Six carried to the Pillar of Autumn injected some of her, insert technobable here, and made her, "evolve" into a Smart AI. It's just a plot device and a way of helping ease Six into the foreign environment without him being forced to acclimatize alone. He's not a people person, especially when a lot of the people look like things that want him dead. Is it a stupid and poor reason? Sure, but I ran with it and it's here to stay, besides EDI is powerful but she is also restrained to the Normandy and has limiters in place that serve to shackle her power. Dot does not. Did I mention it's a McGuffin, and a poorly thought out one at that?

Jonesy - Six is possessive about everything, especially when there be aliens afoot.

Also an update out of nowhere with no rhyme or reason?

Right on schedule.