Moon - Cabeus crater

A plasma cutting tool was set upon the blast door, and a shower of sparks erupted. A burning light strong enough to scorch the eyes started to labor its way through the ancient but sturdy bolts. Around the engineer, ten heavily armed and armored troopers waited, weapons at the ready, breaths terse, hearts beating with the adrenaline of field operations.

The engineer working on the door looked behind his shoulder briefly: "Ten to fifteen minutes, ma'am." The deceptively small woman nodded and studied the ancient blast door. It had no markings, no logos, no control panels of any kind on the sides.

The briefing she had received on this assignment was sparse enough to guess what her superiors knew on the topic: nothing. This ancient facility on the Cabeus crater was enough of a mystery to the Alliance military that they had seen fit to commission an ICT graduate to enter it. Lieutenant Aaliyah Shepard was not one given to questioning orders, but like any career officer, she had a working brain, and working brains tended to pick relentlessly at enigmas.

Deep within the vaults of the complex, instruments long since dormant detected the imminent breach. The security systems that protected the facility had been state-of-the-art decades ago, but their prolonged dormancy had not affected their efficiency in the least.

"Alpha team, be advised, power surges detected within the compound," Shepard's XO warning echoed in her earbuds.

"Copy that, London," she acknowledged. "Everybody, check your shields and weapons. Something just went online in there."

A chorus of yeses answered her. "Static defenses, ma'am?"

"I don't know. But better safe than sorry. There's got to be a good reason for someone wanting us of all people to reopen this place."

Shepard's eyes were on the door. The design she recognized; it was a sturdy zero-g atmospheric hatch. Except for a few slight differences -no external control panel, for one-, it was basically the same thing she had first seen at the Horizon Lunar Colony. So what is this place? A forgotten depot or dependency or shelter? Reopening it did not call for the deployment of an Alliance Navy platoon.

After a painstaking effort, a hydraulic jack was worked under the huge blast door and turned on; the troopers, positioned on both sides of the gate, waited and watched for any signs of danger. There was a sharp hiss of escaping air, and they caught flashes of red light coming from the other side.

Then the hydraulic jack stopped. Periodic flashes of red and yellow lit the cavernous tunnel. Nothing moved.

Shepard raised a fist and signaled with her fingers. The engineer nodded his acknowledgement and produced a small spherical device from his hip satchel, which once released floated freely, spinned in place a few times, then started moving and hovered past the gate.

In the dark, a thought stirred.

Life…

Memories sprang to mind, unbidden. Struggling and fighting. Faces. A blond man. Quickly the torpor receded to give way to cold rage.

Jack…

The recon drone fed the output of its sensors both to the engineer and to Shepard. She was studying the place -it seemed to be a loading bay of some kind, but very rudimentary- when some lights blinked in the darkness; on a mental command she changed the visible spectrum to see-

-a mech shifting configuration into a huge stationary rotary cannon that quickly locked in on the recon drone. A flash of gunfire and the drone was blown to pieces.

"Great," Shepard cursed under her breath. "What do we have in there?"

The engineer was querying his database. "It's a… a Bastion mech, ma'am," the engineer replied. "It's a relic from the First Omnic Crisis."

Which means this place was built… forty years ago? "For a relic, it's surprisingly functional." She frowned inside her helmet. The Omnics had gone the way of many ethnic groups previously subjugated into subservience - after some harrowing soul-searching and no small bloodshed, they had gone on to integrate themselves as members of society like everyone else. The fact that they were synthetics -an euphemism in place of the crude 'robots'- was a contentious point that still rankled many, and Bastions were a reminder of the worst of those times.

"London, this is Shepard," she reported. Or tried to. Her channel was flooded with static. "London?"

"Active countermeasures, ma'am," the engineer reported.

The platoon leader was puzzled. Why jam the communications…? Oh, I see. Probably a signal for aid was being sent now. Who would come? Would anyone come at all?

She signaled her second-in-command to keep an eye on the tunnel exit in case someone surprised them from behind, then gave another order. A bulky trooper wielding a submachine gun and a heavy brace-like device strapped to his left arm stepped out of formation; a few commands to his omni-tool, then he placed his left forearm across and in front of him - and a barrier large enough to cover the approach of the whole platoon unfolded from the forearm brace. This shieldbearer signaled his readiness, and Shepard and the engineer took positions to his sides.

After a brief snapcount, they stepped out of cover. The rotary cannon opened up on the spot, but the barrier held - and as it fired, it gave the troopers a perfect target. The engineer used a laser designator to target a key mechanism on the gun, and Shepard pulled the trigger to fire a single round from her battle rifle. The cannon sputtered and stopped, jammed. The designator switched positions immediately; another round, and the Bastion was now effectively immobilized.

Shepard needed not giving further orders for her troopers to search for other countermeasures. It did not take long for them to find them: "Laser tripwires," the engineer cautioned, and sprayed some smoke to expose the two parallel bluish lines.

"Demo charges?" the shieldbearer speculated.

"Likely," was the wary reply.

The Alliance team searched the loading bay meticulously before concluding that there were no other nasty surprises that would make short work of their engineer before retreating back to the entrance and waiting for him to disarm the charges. As always, it made for a terse and uncomfortable wait.

"Fisher, report," Shepard ordered her second, in charge of the other fire team she had tasked into securing her escape route.

"All clear here, ma'am. No hostiles inbound. Still no contact with London."

"Keep trying. We are entering the facility. Report the findings to the commander the moment you regain contact."

"Yes, ma'am."

Thankfully, the wait was brief. "Ma'am? This is Krauze," the engineer said unnecessarily. "It's clear."

"What is it?" She could sense the restlessness in her engineer's voice.

"Whoever left this place behind did not settle for small things." It turned out that no simple explosive traps had been set to deter intruders, but a whole fusion charge instead, with a yield to rival the muzzle energy of a cruiser battery. "This is unreasonable, ma'am. This would have vaporized us, the vault, and everything in a thirteen-mile radius."

Whatever is inside is dangerous, she concluded automatically. For a second she considered retreating and calling a decontamination team to take over, but in either case she would be asked to clear out the site first. "Can you see what's inside that thing?"

"The Bastion, ma'am? Sure, I can try, it should take half an hour, supposing it's not housing an AI."

"If it is, then at least we'll get some answers."

It had been lonely in the darkness and the cold for so long that the warmth of life was like a bright flame, and its call ignored glass, plastic, metal, stone and concrete alike.

Other things had been warm. People. Men and women. Erstwhile friends and comrades.

Glory hogs. Selfish bastards.

The rushing torrent of memories became a river of black acid as pain turned into rage and rage turned into pain. Jack. The woman, Ziegler.

What did she do to me?

"It's not an AI," Krauze reported. "The original Omnic software has been wiped and replaced with a sentry VI."

"Any clues on who did it?"

"Negative, ma'am."

"Then turn it off."

"Understood, ma'am."

The second gate on the other end of the loading bay was even heavier and sturdier than the first one, and took longer to open. Only this time, there were no defenses waiting for them, but inner lights were turned on.

The place would have been some sort of medical facility, except for the tall cylinder of polished chrome in the middle of the circular vault, kept raised from the floor by means of two mechanical arms holding it by the base and by the top. Many computer screens littered the walls.

The moment they set foot in the place, the screens turned on to depict a blond woman.

"If you're watching this, it means that you have breached the safeguards we put into place to keep this hazard contained. Please, turn back, seal this place again, and never return. You are not aware of the danger you are in."

Everyone was alert at once, but the shieldbearer was also stunned with amazement: "That's… Mercy, ma'am. Doctor Angela Ziegler. She-"

"Shush!" His commander furiously overrode him as Mercy continued to speak. Her face was strained with pain and fear:

"We… I… She tried to save him, but instead she created something that cannot be put down. He cannot be killed, only contained. Please! Go, for your own sakes!"

Shepard turned to Krauze: "Is this a recording?"

Unexpectedly Mercy shook her head on the screen. Tears of desperation rolled down her face: "I'm an AI. She left me behind, modeled me after herself to warn you. You don't know what's in here and you're better off that way. Once he gets free there's almost no containing him again!"

"Why shoot us?"

"You think I liked the idea?" Mercy screamed. Then her voice became subdued, as if the original Angela Ziegler had had to rehearse those words time and time again: "A few deaths is a price she would have paid gladly to prevent all the suffering and horror he… this… would unleash." Again a tearful look. "I know you are soldiers, you're trained to disregard anything but your orders. Please, use your heads. Report this to your superiors and counsel them to restore the safeguards. This must not break out."

Oh, doc… aren't you right about that one.

The soldiers looked hesitantly at Shepard. She was their leader, but Angela Ziegler had been a legend, a member of Overwatch, an agency that had upheld ideals of peace and integration in the most militant of ways - and in the most honest and upright of ways, both while it had been supported by world powers and as a rogue body that had again protected the weak while those same world powers had sat on their thumbs. Their doings had been the moral foundation of the Alliance as it had taken to the stars.

Shepard would not be moved by the reputation of the late Ziegler alone, but a quick examination of everything her team had found, plus the particulars of the place -location, countermeasures, and facility contents- inclined her to follow Mercy's advice. "London actual, this is Shepard," she spoke, confident that the AI would have disabled the jamming by now, and looking at the seals and warnings in the containment tank. "Facility inspection is complete. Presence of level 6 biological hazards detected. This place is not secure. Immediate resealing recommended."

"Shepard, this is London actual, we copy your signal five by five. We acknowledge your detection of level 6 biological hazards. Abandon facility at once and await for arrival of decontamination team."

"Sir, I strongly recommend the complete abandonment of the place." She was not looking at the Mercy avatar in the screens, but she could see the eyes of some of her men who were. And could literally feel the AI pleading: please.

"Your recommendation is noted. Decontamination and cleanup will proceed as planned. Abandon the facility and retreat to the entrance."

She had to battle the urge to sigh. "Yes sir." Only now did she turn towards the screens. It was not a real face, only a simulation, but her reason had little to do when her heart cracked at the sight. Again she had to repress an urge - this time to say how sorry she was.

"They will let him out!" Mercy screamed in despair.

And I have waited long enough for that, doc. And I'm hungry…

Shepard had to force herself to ignore the pleading and begging and warnings of the borderline insane AI, but she had to note the effect it had had on her men. Fisher, her second-in-command, noticed this when her team joined his:

"What happened in there, ma'am? We heard gunfire and stuff but you look like you'd all seen a ghost."

She thought about it for a second, then decided that Fisher had been cleared for that mission as well. "That place's a… an Overwatch vault. I think. Angela Ziegler -Mercy- sealed something in there and left behind an AI to warn us not to open it. She-it was literally crying out to us to reseal everything and leave."

Fisher stared at her long and hard. She did not flinch. At last he sighed and slumped his shoulders. "Alright, ma'am, begging your pardon, it's insane but I believe you. What are we going to do about it, ma'am?"

"Sit back and wait. There's a decontamination team enroute. We wait and hand over the site to them." Her voice spoke volumes about what she thought of the whole deal.

"You don't like it."

She snorted. "I should know better than heeding the rants of a mad AI that has been locked alone in the dark for God knows how many years guarding God knows whatever kind of horrible thing is in there, but no, I don't like it."

Fisher nodded seriously. "Ma'am, go with your gut then."

The implied vote of confidence was what decided her. "Krauze," she barked.

"Ma'am?" The engineer came over at once.

"Power up and repair the jams on that Bastion unit. Then interface it with that AI."

A brief silence followed. "According to regs, I have to log your command, ma'am."

"Do it. Then do what I told you."

Krauze nodded. He had trusted Shepard ever since she had become his commanding officer but what she was ordering was borderline suicide. "Yes, ma'am."

She turned towards the rest of her squad. Ricks was the burly shieldbearer that had protected her advance. Akemi was her designated markswoman and Thaler their medic. They all nodded at her without word.

"Fisher," she turned again towards her second, "I want you and Team-2 stationed near the entrance to 'welcome' the decontamination team. The rest of you, you know your drills. We don't know what to expect, but we will act on the assumption that something hostile will come out from within the facility."

"Yes ma'am."

They scattered to take their positions and check their gear for the umpteenth time, leaving their commander alone with her doubts. She was a lowly lieutenant -a promising and exceptionally gifted and skilled but lowly lieutenant- who had been given clear enough orders. What she was doing could be construed as disobedience. Why was she doing it? What kind of discipline was that? Letting her judgment and orders to be overridden by a synthesized voice composed by a program that had every chance of being a fabrication? A fake?

Why a place in near-zero gravity gave her such a bad sensation then? Trust your guts, Fisher had said.

Krauze's voice broke the spell: "Ma'am, it's done."

"Already?"

"Well, ma'am, the AI locked everything down tight and housed itself on a portable memory core. All I had to do was to install it on the Bastion chassis."

"'Locked everything down tight'?"

"As much as the circumstances allowed."

Shepard felt cold despite the many-layered thermal insulation of her powered armor. She did not like a self-aware AI housed on a Bastion, but-

"What about the fusion charges?"

"The detonation mechanism is physically decoupled and disabled, ma'am. There's no simply re-arming the charges."

"Good." She did not know whether to feel glad or sad. Eventually the sensation that she was facilitating something very wrong prevailed.

It was about to get worse. "Ma'am, the decontamination team is here." It was Fisher.

"Send them in."

The team consisted of a dozen men and women clad in heavy zero-g hazmat suits, bulky enough as to make them distantly resemble the astronauts of the 20th century. The lead man's tag read Clemenceau. "Lieutenant Shepard?"

She saluted. "Reporting as ordered, sir."

She could not see his face, but she was certain he was evaluating the disposition of her men and the huge bulk of the reactivated Bastion unit with its rotary cannon pointed towards the facility. "If I remember right you were ordered to stand down."

"Better safe than sorry, sir."

His disapproval was evident but a soldier could not be reprimanded for showing caution in the face of an unknown threat. "We'll take it from here. Your team is relieved from your duties and your orders are to return to the London for debriefing."

She nodded reluctantly. "Begging your pardon, sir, my chief engineer has requested permission to remove this Bastion mech and I have granted it. We are going to need a larger shuttle to accommodate it. In the meantime we would have no problem in acting as a supplementary guard force."

Clemenceau saw no fault in that. If the marines wanted to take apart that Omnic Crisis relic, it was their business. "As long as it does not interfere with our cleanup operations, I have no objections, lieutenant. Just please have it point its guns elsewhere."

The mech did so without any orders on Shepard's command. She found herself wishing she could share her growing unease with someone else, and hoped the AI had been wrong.

Then she got a message from Ricks via the squad private network: Will they find the AI?

It's housed on the mech, was her reply.

Why not tell them?

Shepard decided she had to give that one last try. She started walking towards the second massive gate, under the menacing eyes of the quartet of armed guards now on station there, and she heard the voice of the AI speaking again, word by word, on the same tone-

-was it a recording?

Clemenceau turned towards Shepard. "Why wasn't this reported?"

She shrugged. "I have no direct evidence that this was recorded by Angela Ziegler herself, sir. In any case, the warnings on the tank are genuine, and I based myself on those to send my alert."

The man glanced again at the looping message -not a hint of the face being an AI's avatar was present there- and then again at Shepard. "It could be a fabrication, alright."

Another man manipulated a console, and the robotic arms holding the containment tank suspended in midair twitched. There was a screech of metal on metal -more felt than heard- and she felt heartsick for an instant, but the tank did not break. She turned to leave as coolly as she could: "Fabrication or not, I'd take those warnings to heart, sir."

She walked out at a brisk pace. The Bastion's chaingun swiveled on its place and pointed its barrels at the door she had just passed through. Her instincts screamed at her to run to cover, to get out of that loading bay as fast as she could, and she found it increasingly hard to resist those urges, even if that massive Gatling cannon was not pointed at her-

Abruptly red lights started turning everywhere. Messages blared on all frequencies: ALERT. ALERT. CONTAINMENT BREACH. SECURITY SEALS HAVE BEEN COMPROMISED. ABANDON INSTALLATION IMMEDIATELY.

"Shepard! What's going on-?" Clemenceau demanded on the spot and turned on his heel to see one of the mechanical arms giving way after an improper maneuver - and cutting a huge tear on the containment tank as it did.

Thick, black, oily smoke dropped out, forming a pool.

The members of the containment team were scrambling to leave already: "LEAVE EVERYTHING! MOVE! MOVE!"

The pool now was almost two meters wide. Then it started to shrink in size as it grew in height.

To become a cloaked, masked man.

The half-dozen hazmat-equipped security guards gaped at the erstwhile prisoner in horrified disbelief as he simply crackled its neck joints -joints that had not existed a second ago, that could not exist in a near-vacuum- and glared at them through invisible eyes.

"He's free." Shepard heard the resigned and sad voice in her earbuds. Mercy's.

The man then became a black pool of smoke again, and then shifted into an inky, sentient cloud of living darkness that engulfed the guards, and the frequencies filled with screaming.

Then the Bastion opened up. Shepard, right next to the mech, felt the ground tremble as the powerful Gatling cannon spat a solid stream of shells on the cloud.

Ricks broke cover and took position next to his commander and to the mech, instantly deploying his shield. Thaler followed suit, sidearm at the ready. "What the hell was that thing?" the burly assault specialist whispered under his breath.

"Exactly what we were warned about," Shepard replied quietly. And we are alone with him. "London actual, this is Shepard, we are under attack, the decontamination team is down. Requesting reinforcements."

"Shepard, acknowledged, stand by. Dispatching team Bravo now. ETA 8 minutes."

The lieutenant had no time to frame a reply because there was a torrent of gunfire behind her and she heard a feminine scream -Thaler's- right next to her. Then there was cold, a cold like nothing she had experienced in her entire life, and something she could not see smashed her squarely on her neck. She fell limp against the frame of the mech as she heard screams on her earbuds, and then a weight fell over her. She did not have to tell it was Ricks.

Half stunned, she crawled from under her soldier's body and tried to grope back into her feet, but an armored boot stomped on her back. Icy fingers gripped her shoulder like a vise and turned her face up.

It was a nightmare come true, the visage of the Grim Reaper, if such a thing were real. But this thing was. Dressing in a long leather coat, brandishing two submachine guns looted from the guards of the hazmat team, it -for, even if it had the shape of a human, it was no longer one-, it regarded her with cold amusement.

Then he spoke, and she felt that cold again gripping her. And a boundless, overwhelming terror, that no amount of training could hope to contain.

You have set me free. My thanks.

Codex: the Moon

Humanity first set foot on this desolate planetoid on July 20th, 1969. After a series of successive trips, it received no further visits until 2029, when a first attempt was made at establishing a permanent presence on the large basaltic plain known as Mare Crisium. Since then, several craters have been encased in domes to allow for limited, localized terraformation.

A scientific installation was set up on the Langrenus crater by Lucheng Interstellar in 2050 with the dual purpose of studying the effects of long-term low gravity exposure and experimenting with genetic uplifting. With the first part of the initiative rendered moot early on by the reverse engineering of mass effect technology, the laboratory focused on its genetic research, and produced specimens with near-human or human-level intelligence from gorilla stock.

The program would come to a violent end on 2075, as the test subjects rebelled and took control of the installation and the nearby Horizon Lunar Colony by force; the single gorilla who refused to take part in the uprising fled to Earth and later became known as Winston, one of the leaders of Overwatch. The Lucheng facility and the Horizon colony would remain in rebel hands until 2082, when they were retaken by the Alliance navy.

Nowadays, large swathes of the Moon are being mined for helium-3 and raw materials to fuel the construction of large orbital stations around Earth, but sectors still remain restricted to the public. Rumours abound of secret facilities and delicate research taking place.