"212, we heard you were in a little trouble down there, so we sent a little help your way," SSV Gettysburg transmitted.

"Much appreciated Gettysburg," Colonel Arnold replied from the parade ground in front of the base. It was now strewn with debris hurled at the Marines who had fired countless shots over the heads of the crowd to try and get them to back off.

"There might not be room aboard for all of you but El Alamein is en route from a previous deployment. They'll be here in less than an hour," Gettysburg said.

"Roger that Gettysburg, over and out," Arnold responded before turning to his lieutenant colonel. "Ashley, get inside and prep the wounded for evac."

"Yes, sir," Ashley acknowledged, holstering her sidearm and running across the grounds to a low grey metal building on the far side of the base. There weren't many wounded within, most had been taken out-system to more advanced care facilities on Earth. Corporal Ferrier and Private Turner were there, as were a handful of other people wounded by the mob or flying debris.

Outside she heard the first round of shuttles getting nearby and she walked over to the chief medical officer. "We've got to get these people moved; the crowds about to break down the fences and storm the place."

"Yes ma'am," the doctor said, turning to prepare his patience for movement.

"Shuttles are on the ground, bring them out," Arnold ordered over the communications net.

"We're just getting them ready now, sir," Ashley said, peering out the door and seeing three Alliance blue kodiak shuttles set down on the parade ground. Marines had formed a protective circle around them, keeping their eyes on the fences surrounding the base.

"Make it quick," Arnold replied, breaking the connection.

Ashley turned to the medical staff and relayed the order, helping in any way she could. Finally the wounded were ready to move and she took the first gurney and pushed it out the door toward the shuttles.

"Let's go!" the Navy pilot was shouting from the confines of his shuttle as they approached. He helped heft the gurney carrying Corporal Ferrier in and pushed it against the far wall, lining several other gurneys up next to it. Ashley pushed some of the medical staff in behind them and kept shoving people in until the pilot signaled that the shuttle was full.

"First shuttle's good to go, we got most of the medical staff out. The rest are in the second shuttle. Third is wide open," Ashley reported.

"Tell the Marines to pile in," Arnold responded from his post at the front gate.

Ashley stepped back as shuttle one lifted off and gently angled toward the sky. She ran to shuttle three and motioned to the Marines guarding the landing site. "Get in!"

The Marines obliged, jumping into the two remaining shuttles until there was no more room. The doors closed and the two shuttles took off, the noise of their engines fading away to be replaced by the angry chanting of the riot just outside of the base's gates. Right now they were chanting "Terra Nova", but the chant changed frequently.

A squad of fresh recruits was rushed out onto the field to await the next round of shuttles from Gettysburg, each of them eying the crowd fearfully and fingering their weapons.

"Don't even think about using those," Ashley warned, "You saw what they did to Ferrier and Turner. If you shoot any of them they'll tear us all limb from limb."

As if verification of that fact, the familiar voice of Gettysburg's skipper spoke up in her ear. "Colonel, my shuttles are reporting on the size of the riot. Our guys are low-balling it and still saying you've got fifteen thousand people outside. It looks like more are on the way too."

"Did you hear that?" Ashley asked Colonel Arnold.

"Yeah, I did. We are in the eye of a category 5 shit storm," he responded. "Gettysburg, we need to get out of here yesterday. Is there anyone else that can help?"

"El Alamein is still on her way, ETA ten minutes. The cruiser Boston should be in the area as well, and an element of Fifth Fleet is on the way from Arcturus to Eden Prime to help calm these people down," Gettysburg reported.

"Roger that Gettysburg, what's the status on your shuttles?" Arnold asked.

"They're still on their way through the upper atmosphere. High level winds are hitting them, looks like a storm front is moving into your area," Gettysburg replied.

"Great," Ashley said. "We'll sit tight and wait for you, don't rush them. There's wounded aboard, one in pretty serious condition."

"Roger that 212. Gettysburg out."

As they looked on, one of the protestors lit something on fire and hurled it over the fence. Ashley identified it as the archaic but ever-potent Molotov cocktail bomb as it reached the zenith of its arch. The Marine it was aimed at had been distracted by the crowd driving against the gates again and dove out of the way just a few seconds too late. The firebomb exploded across his legs and lower back and set him ablaze, drawing nearby Marines over to help combat the flames.

The situation had distracted the defenders, and that's all the rowdier elements of the crowd needed. They began to mount the fence and work toward the top unnoticed by anyone nearby until they got stuck in the razor wire and were trying to fight their way out of that.

Despite warning shots fired from the group of Marines, more rioters began to climb the fence. The new blood beside Ashley began to quake after seeing the burnt Marine get carted over to them by several of his comrades. The situation was on the precipice of chaos, but it hadn't yet fallen over the brink.

"212, this is frigate El Alamein. We're in-system and deploying shuttles to help evacuate," a new voice said over the high-level comm. net.

"Welcome back El Alamein, your timing couldn't be better," Arnold said. "We're about to lose control down here, tell your shuttles to push it as fast as they can."

"Roger that 212, El Alamein out."

Another Molotov sailed over the fence and exploded on the ground, starting a small grass fire that the Marines nearby ignored, not giving the rioters another opportunity to breach the perimeter. The fire spread very slowly across the grass, not posing an immediate threat to anyone. It actually helped, as it blew acrid black smoke into the faces of the rioters.

At that moment there was a loud crack as a rifle sounded off—on their side of the street. One of the Marines dropped to the ground after the round hit him.

"Shots fired! Did anyone see the source?" Arnold asked on the all-hands frequency.

"No sir," came the reply from the units deployed to guard that fence.

"Find cover!" Ashley shouted as the second shot struck one of the new Marines squarely in the chest and threw him into a bloody pile on the parade ground.

The other new guys panicked, running toward the nearest cover. There was a low stone wall that ran in front of the base buildings that many of them hid behind. The others were left out in the open where they were totally exposed to the sniper.

"Got him, he's in a third story window two buildings to the left of the gate," a Marine said over the comm. net.

"Take the shot," Arnold ordered without hesitation. His voice was colder now that two of his Marines had been killed and another seriously injured.

A rattle of gunfire echoed across the field and was answered by another crack of the assailant's rifle. The duel continued until the sniper gave up or was killed. Either way, they'd stopped shooting.

El Alamein's shuttles arrived, circling the parade ground and landing around Ashley and the Marines. The doors swung up and the Marines rushed the doors, their two weeks of training not nearly enough to help them cope with the situation.

Those three shuttles departed with a quarter of the remaining Marines, leaving just as Gettysburg's shuttles returned for another group.

Now the dangerous part of the evacuation began. The troops guarding the fences were being evacuated, leaving the defenses of the base weaker. Every third Marine was told to get back to the shuttles and leave, along with all the base administrative staff still on the premises.

The crowd noticed this as well and began hammering on the fences. Ashley led a few troops in deploying emergency cover around the landing site, giving the last Marines something to hide behind after the next group left. That task ate up about fifteen minutes as alerts came in that the shuttles had reached El Alamein and their passengers were disembarking.

There was another crack from the east, denoting another rifle firing. A flurry of rifle fire answered it; enough that Ashley knew it wasn't just one rifle firing.

"We're falling apart," she whispered to herself, looking north toward the front gate. Arnold was still maintaining discipline there, but the other three sides of the perimeter weren't so organized. More gunfire erupted as the assault intensified.

Ashley ran from position to position, trying to calm the troopers down but failing by and large. The stress was starting to crack the veneer of the men guarding the wall.

The next round of shuttles arrived after another twenty or so minutes and as the conflict intensified. Weapons were becoming commonplace among the rioters, and a dozen Marines were now waiting for evacuation with gunshot wounds. Dozens more people on the other side of the fences were dead now, as the Marines were firing at anyone who looked to be drawing a weapon.

That hadn't been ordered, either, and those who fired did so knowing they could very likely get discharged from the Corps. It was a survival situation now, not a military operation. Those on that side of the fence would kill them if they got through. Kill or be killed.

The most dangerous point had been reached. The fences were being guarded by the last forty Marines in Constant after the rest of the 212 had been evacuated into orbit. The mob was incensed as now at least fifty of their number lay dead and countless more wounded.

El Alamein's shuttles were only ten minutes out when the fence came down on the south end. Under cover of the crowd, someone had laid a homemade explosive at the foot of the gate and the crowd vacated the blast radius, giving the Marines just a moment to find what had caused their retreat. The explosion killed three Marines and blew a hole five meters wide in the fence. The crowd poured through, trampling the bodies of the fallen Marines and making way for the landing zone.

"Colonel, they're in!" Ashley shouted as she saw the human tide rushing toward her. Several rioters produced firearms and began firing at the Marines guarding the other fences. A half dozen fell with mass accelerator rounds in their backs as the crowd charged them.

"Alamein, wave off the shuttles!" Arnold's voice said as a particularly big man rushed at Ashley and swung at her with a bit of metal. Her effort to block the strike resulted in a broken wrist and her sidearm being thrown across the ground.

She couldn't block the second swing and it caught her in the head, and the world went dark as the ground rushed up to meet her.

"Arbiter," the holographic Prophet of Constraint said in greeting. "We have a new task for you."

The Arbiter had kneeled before the Prophet's image, staring intently at the ground. "What do you ask of your Arbiter?"

"The heretics have deployed a carrier, a monstrous piece of technology perverted by their use. The machine has fought our forces to a stalemate, and in the absence of combat the heretics have sent their ships into alien—Citadel—space. Why they have done it, we do not know. You are to find their ships and stop them from whatever their mission may be," the Prophet explained.

"Where shall I start, Holy One?" the Arbiter asked the hologram. The whole bridge of the cruiser he'd been operating out of had been darkened and vacated, leaving him alone with the Prophets.

"They entered Citadel space above the ice planet Noveria; I believe you are familiar with it. Search from that point on and slay them where you find them," the Hierarch ordered, his voice shifting from the hoarse whisper it usually was to a malevolent calm. "None can survive to divert us from the Path."

"As you have ordered it, so it shall be," the Arbiter acknowledged.

"Very good," the Prophet said, his voice returned to normal. The hologram faded and the Arbiter stood, bringing the lights up and unlocking the doors to allow the crew back in.

"Arbiter, where shall we go?" the shipmaster asked as he followed his crew in.

"We set course for Citadel space, and must hunt down heretic scout vessels traveling along their relay network," the Arbiter announced. "We start at the ice planet Noveria."

"Very well, Arbiter," the shipmaster said to his superior before moving to the command console on the elevated platform in the center of the CIC.

The CCS-class battlecruiser hosting the Arbiter opened a portal into the Void and disappeared into it, making way for Noveria.

Miranda Lawson looked up from the table carrying the rebuilt body of Commander John Shepard. He was going to be about half a meter taller than most people, his muscles and his bones had been hastily reinforced by metal and hormones that would allow for a quicker reconstruction.

As a result, John Shepard was most likely going to be one of the strongest, most durable, and fastest humans ever born. His mind had gone untouched, although it would probably take some acclimatization to the fact that he'd be in essentially totally different form than he was last time he was awake.

The Erasmus Cell had shipped over a set of heavily modified set of Hahne-Kedar armor for Shepard's use. It currently rested in the next room, locked away under a table. They'd been clear on the details—using body armor recovered from a SANI convoy leaving Noveria, they'd reverse-engineered the alien shielding to a fair degree of success. It wasn't perfect, and the shields were weaker than the Covenant's, but it was far better than anything the Alliance or even Cerberus had.

Doctor Wilson stood opposite her. "We've only got some cosmetic changes on the face to take care of, and then we can get him up."

"Good," Miranda said, pushing back from the table. "I've got to go make my report."

Miranda left the room and walked up the hall to her office, unlocking the door and walking around her desk, looking again at the odd artifact that glowed when people walked near it.

She tapped out a text-only report and sent it to Cronos. As soon as she was done, she got up and walked up the hall and returned to watch the cosmetic surgeons prepare to work on Shepard. It wouldn't be long now.

A/N:

Hey guys! I cut this chapter way short so that I could use some of the words to explain my plan for the next week or so.

First, this is the last chapter of Divergent Pasts. No, the story isn't over! In fact, Divergent Pasts was only the beginning. Remember a while back when I was asking about a Codex? Well, over the past week as I wrote this chapter I realized that suddenly shifting Commander Shepard into main character status would be a hard departure from the style of Divergent Pasts… so as a solution, I thought I'd just start a new story and leave Divergent Pasts as the backstory for a new universe of stories I'd be writing.

The next one, which I'll be titling The Wind in the Void, will detail Commander Shepard's story on a vaguely Mass Effect 2-esque journey to build a crew and embark on a suicidal mission. Okay, so it's probably exactly like ME2, but with some obvious changes. Like the fact the Collectors are dead already, and the Covenant's around, for two examples.

I hope you all can forgive me for the cliffhangers here, but you shouldn't have to wait too long. I'm going to do a little research and try to get Shepard's voice down a little better, but it shouldn't take more than a week or so to see Void appear.

If you want me to PM you or anything about the new story when it comes up, PM me first with that request. Also, check out the forum I started for Halo fans ("A Monument to All Our Sins", link in my profile!) and help me start up a legit Halo community.

As always, thanks for reading! I'll see you in The Wind in the Void! (Credit to Lachdannen for the title idea!)