Drifting.

He never thought it would end like this. After everything, all the victories, all the battles and struggles. To be claimed by the darkness of space. He knew it had happened to Spartan's before. James was a prime example. Utterly helpless, adrift amongst the stars.

It calmed him. He was at peace. The Master Chief knew he had done his job. Earth – Humanity – was safe, the Didact defeated, his duty fulfilled. He was satisfied with the end, not because it was the end, but for the first time in his life, he was powerless to change his situation. Time and time before, his uncanny ability to lead and wage war and strategize had prolonged his life much past the predicted and expected length, but now, it was coming to a close.

His mind flashed briefly over the events of the past few days, surprising even himself he had come this far. Awakened from his deep sleep, only to come face to face with another ancient enemy that threatened the future of humanity – and once more, he was the only one that could stop it. Accepting his role, he had done whatever it took, coming so far as to detonate the nuclear device he had brought along manually. Why he hadn't been reduced to atomized particles in Earth's orbit was beyond him. He only knew one thing for certain – Cortana had made it possible. Her last act, one of purely human motivation, was to ensure his survival.

He wasn't sure if it was enough. The slip space portal of the Didact's ship had washed over him, even as the warhead detonated. He didn't know what happened, his brain not even truly caring. Something seemed to be off, the nuclear detonation almost within the slip space portal causing some sort of anomaly that only faintly registered in his brain as he was tossed through the 11-dimensional mayhem of slip space and back out into normality. There was no familiar green and blue orb in sight that signified home, no massive star ship of Forerunner design that signified defeat, no allied vessels that signified victory. No, all that caught his eye was the faint shimmering of stars that penetrated the inky blackness of space. His multitude of acquired weapons, strapped to his back and legs, were useless scraps of metal, the ammunition of which was little more than extra mass as he executed a slow, suffocating tumble into nothingness.

What's done was done. His friend, quite possibly his best friend, and at this stage, probably his only friend, had made the sacrifice he so deeply intended to perform. It was a Spartan's job to sacrifice – to give so that the innocent could live. He knew Cortana was just as - if not even more dangerous than himself, but there had always been a certain innocence preserved in her personality that intrigued him. An instinctual protective instinct that overcame him at the most stressful of times, allowing him to push beyond all boundaries in her defense – and now she had reversed their roles – something the Chief had never intended.

John set a distress call, one he didn't expect to be received. It was more of a habit in situations such as these, to follow protocol when all else seemed to fail. He powered down the suit, locking his armor and turning off all nonessential functions to preserve power. He lay there, inert, flying through space, as his air began to run out. He hoped they would find his body.

It was here, with his thoughts turned to his last friend, that the Master Chief's world went black.

OOOO

Commander Shepard hated Batarians. With a passion. Slavers were the worst kind of criminals – and it seemed that their entire race was somehow embroiled in the slave trade.

Which is why he was eager for this op. He knew why the Illusive Man sent him here – probably to blow off steam. 'And heads', he thought with a smirk, as his small team of ragtag operatives advanced through the colony. Not just that. Apparently a wealthy politician was paying a large sum to Cerberus in exchange for the rescue of his daughter, a woman by the name of Harper Nudell. He knew of no other reason that he would be drawn away from the front lines with both the Collectors and the Reapers breathing down humanity's necks.

"I think I see a slave camp!" Miranda called. "2 o'clock, half a click away."

His eyes followed. A large, gray building was fenced in on all side. He could barely make out figures darting to and fro atop the building. It matched descriptions of other Batarian slave camps they had come across.

"Let's go check it out. Garrus, take Thane on that hill to the southeast and give us some over watch. Miranda, go with Grunt and Samara to the side entrance I see there. I'll take Jack through the front door."

They nodded, and jogged off to their respective positions.

He pulled Jack behind a low wall for cover while he assessed the situation. Around 15 armed guards surrounded the building. They looked on edge. They had probably heard how Shepard had terrorized the other slave camps in the system liberating hostages and waging merciless war on the slavers.

He felt Jack tense next to him. "These fuckers won't know what hit 'em. Let's fuck 'em silly."

He knew it was a risk to take her along. Her temper would flare too easily. It was a hazard to the op. But he enjoyed the aftereffects of the biotic tearing the slavers to pieces. He supposed it was payback. Well-deserved payback. This slaver gang was notoriously ruthless, with a reputation for torture, rape, and public executions.

"We are a go when you give the shot Garrus." A double comm click notified him that his order was acknowledged. He sighted the guard nearest the gate, a wall would provide him cover if he wasn't taken out.

He heard three shots ring out, and a guard atop the building was privileged to an in-depth look of his buddies skull, before he too, 'lost his mind', in a matter of speaking. He certainly wasn't going to be finding it anytime soon.

As the Commander opened fire on the guards, Jack screamed a curse, and launched a bolt of biotic energy into a wall covering 3 slavers. The wall crumbled, the biotic energy continued onward blasting two of the slavers off their feet, the over pressure crushing their cranial cavities.

He heard Grunt roar, gunshots, and similar biotic noises off to his left, where he knew the other group was wreaking havoc. He and Jack stormed into the compound, pausing only to gun down the panicking guards. Their numbers were quickly dwindling. They were sandwiched between two crack snipers on one side, and two raging biotics on the other.

Jack threw a singularity as a group tried to take cover in the building. It caught 4 of them dead in their tracks. Shepard grinned. Easy targets. He threw his own biotic lance into the fray, joining it with bursts from his Avenger rifle.

As the singularity died out, he heard Jack mutter something about what she was going to do with the slavers if she caught a live one. It wasn't a pretty thought. But he could relate. Jack biotically charged through the door, blasting Batarians off their feet. Shepard saw the other team come in through the East door. Their crossfire eliminated any remaining slavers quick and easy. They hadn't had time to take stock of their situation. There was only panic. 'Probably for the best', Shepard thought. 'Any less off guard and they would've probably executed the slaves.'

He came to a locked door, sounds of screaming coming from behind it. He turned to Grunt, who grunted his acknowledgment, and kicked the door down. There were cages upon cages inside. A lone Batarian was holding a young asari woman at gunpoint.

"Let me go! Let me go or she gets a hole in her skull!"

Shepard looked at Samara. She looked at him. He nodded, turned to the slaver, and said, "Alright, alright, just let her go, you can be on your -" He was cut off as the Asari Justicar enveloped the surprised Batarian in a stasis field, immobilizing him just long enough for Shepard to blast his brains out the back of his skull.

The Asari slave fell to her knees and started to sob. He gestured to Samara. to take care of her, while he took the others to open the slave cages. He would call in an Alliance shuttle soon, who would guarantee the slaves eventually found freedom.

He called out, "Harper Nudell! Harper, are you here?"

"Yes! I'm here", he heard a woman plead off to the back of the room. He walked over to her, using his Omnitooll to verify her identity.

"You're father is looking for you. We've called in an Alliance shuttle to pick you all up. We'll stay here until it arrives." He felt the joy sweep the room, the rescue none of them had dreamed of finally coming to light. He, for one, was slightly disappointed, but not for any mal-intent on his part. They had swept camp after camp, eliminating dozens of slavers looking for Harper. He kind of enjoying shitting all over the Batarians and freeing the slaves. This camp, with the recovery of Harper, meant that they were done here. Mission accomplished. Cerberus would get their money, and the politician would get his daughter.

They had bigger fish to fry – figuratively.

OOOO

Onboard the Normandy, he ordered the team to take showers and head to mess. Time to relax. They had been on the chase for a few days now, and it was starting to show. The weariness in the room was almost palpable.

"Shepard, you've got an emergency call," Miranda called through the comms.

"Tell them I'm busy!" He replied.

"It's the Illusive Man! He won't take a message!" She shot back, if somewhat impatiently. At the back of his mind, Shepard understood her intent, just doing her job. He groaned. Of course. Never a moment's respite.

As he trudged to his quarters, he wondered what could possibly have had them running from place to place so soon after their latest escapade. He walked to a nearby vidcon display, and an holographic image of the Illusive Man appeared.

"Shepard." Came the casual, is serious, acknowledgment.

"TIM."

"We've got something big. A team in the Terminus systems just intercepted a massive radiation spike from deep space. It doesn't match anything we have on file, and has been mirrored be a strange communication frequency that we can't seem to tap- it's has been pinging our receivers ever since. Normally I wouldn't call you out on a wild goose chase, but I have it on good authority that this is something that will be worth both our times."

Shepard frowned. "I just ran my team ragged over some half-assed Batarian slavers. You have other operatives that could've taken care of that. As with this. Why send us?"

The Illusive Man simply smiled. "Shepard… I thought you would enjoy showing those Batarians a piece of humanity's mind. Oh well, it doesn't matter. I sent you here originally because I have other teams working on a more difficult op that you were going to get. I'm trying to be nice."

Shepard snorted.

"Regardless, you're on the edge of Terminus space. You are the closest team I have. The coordinates will be sent to EDI. Get it done."

A thought flew through Commander Shepard's head. "You said it was an unidentified frequency… What does that mean? Reapers? Collectors? Why would they be broadcasting?"

The Illusive Man paused. "James… I don't know, honestly. It may be Reapers, it may be not. This is the best lead that we've had in a while. Figure out what it is, and report back to me immediately. If this is the Reapers, or the Collectors, we need to know about it, and we need to know as soon as possible."

Shepard agreed with that, he knew that the Reapers at least tended to use unmapped forms of communication across periods of space. This sounded familiarly ominous, and even if it was nothing, it was indeed the best lead they had. It still didn't he was hot about sending his exhausted team on another goose chase.

OOOO

Couple things, right off the bat. This little comment is the longest its ever gonna be, i promise. There might be the occasional one here or there, but imma try and keep it as clear as I can. I'm going to be 'adjusting' some things in cannon that don't quite make sense. Notably, Spartan dimensions. In cannon, the Chief is listed as around 286 lb and 6'10". I find that a bit unrealistic. The average NBA basketball player that is listed at that same height is listed as 240-260. I know I know, that's still about 30 lbs off, but that's the point. The Master Chief shouldn't way only 30 lbs more than an NBA player, no matter how ripped they are. Point being, the Master Chief's 206 bones are coated with a Ceramic Carbide surface, making them nearly unbreakable. That of, course, is going to add a lot of weight. Look at another basketball example, Tacko Fall. He's 7'5" And he's not the skinniest guy, but as skinny as you'd imagine a guy that tall to be. And he's listed as 315 lbs. That 30 lbs heavier than the Master Chief.

Not including the Ceramic bone additions, there was also the thyroid implant, which was meant to enhance both muscle and bone growth. So he gets bigger. The Chief's thicc.

In addition, Muscular Enhancement injections increased the already large muscle growth's density. Muscles way a lot. Take a look at the Master Chief at the beginning scene of Halo 4, when the armor's getting put on. The Chief's got a lot of it. All in all, I know its a small thing, but I just think the cannon was a little off here. I'm going to be a little conservative though, and list the Chief at 315 as well. He's supposed to be a giant.

Secondly, a couple other things with Halo canon, they shouldn't be using brass rounds. We've got tons of R&D guys today trying to do stuff out of plastic, carbon fiber, and other things. For the purposes of this fanfic, UNSC rifles will use a plastic bio-degradable cartridge, easily manufactured, and much less wasteful -plus I mean if they're 500 years in the future… gotta think of something.

I like the Chief from the books, and from the games as well. I'll be doing my best to blend the two. I think the Chief in the games is a perfect stoic superhero that the UNSC needs. He's got tons of amazing one liners, and he's got a pretty good dry sense of humor when you think about it. Almost half his lines in any of the games are some kind of joke and the other half is some bass line. That's how I think it should be. At the same time, the books portray a slightly different Chief. He's incredibly smart, living up to the title of the 'Navy's best and brightest." Hes a brilliant tactician, as seen in the book First Strike. A covenant ship had never been captured in the history of the war, and the chief goes and does it with a pelican, a longsword, a marine, and odst, a spook, and a pilot. I don't really like it when he's portrayed in other stories as not a team player, who works better on his own. Reading the books, you'll see that is actually not quite true. Sure, the biggest fights of his career were on his own, hence all the HALO games, but he fought literally his whole entire life part of a team. The Halo games were one of the first times he was actually on his own.

He works well, at least in combat, with other marines, too. Keep in mind in the Fall of Reach, that it wasn't often that groups of Spartans got together. They were spread thin, usually working in small teams. They were a 'super unit' that could coordinate marines, navy, and other personnel with efficiency. The Spartans weren't just meant to to be heavy hitting grunts- they are also brilliant strategists who were raised to be the smartest the UNSC has to offer. It was mentioned in the Spartan Manual that a spartans strategical worth was equal to an entire battle fleet. Daggum. When you really look at it, they were originally trained as a stealth unit, not some form of heavy tank-unit like the hunters. Sure, they can definitely do that if it comes down to it, but they are specialized in guerrilla warfare, a halberd that hits with all the precision of a scalpel.

Don't worry, I'm not gonna make the Chief too OP. I'll put him just where I think he should be. He's the best soldier in the galaxy that's full of 8 foot tall gorillas, sangheili, and hunters, where he slaughtered them by the hundreds, and I think that means he'd be the best in a galaxy where they don't have those guys. Sure, the Krogan are big and strong, but a Spartan is supposed to be so unbelievably fast its sometimes too hard to calculate, plus they're also big and probably stronger, by a good margin. That's what mjolnirs for right?

Even without the armor, I think the Chief is more than a match for just about anything he comes across. The problem - he doesn't have Cortana. I don't honestly see him as the kind of guy to be overcome with PTSD, and I mean no offense here, I understand that it could happen to absolutely anyone, and I'm sure he experiences it in some form or other, but when you think about it, his whole like is one big traumatic experience. If he didn't crack fighting the flood on his own, I just don't see how anything else could really put him in enough pressure to cause him pause. With that, he's pretty antisocial, and sociopathic. He just doesn't do well in a social environment, because he hasn't been in one since he's 6 years old.

I could probably go off for days about my opinion of who the dude is, but I'll just try and let the story do my thinking. If you want to review, go ahead. I'm open to constructive criticism, and I understand my talent is not in writing (I suck at dialogue), but I always appreciate suggestions. But if you're here to just troll or throw dung around, I genuinely couldn't care less. If you want to read it, read it. If not, don't.