David looked at the contents of the box in front of him. This was something he’d been saving up for for quite a while, a custom made set of N7 cosplay armor, from his favorite game series, Mass Effect. He’d commissioned it almost six months ago, with every piece of the armor exactly how his Shepard character in the game wore it. He’d gone for the armor texture that resembled a carbon fiber weave, with glossy gray paint and the classic red and white stripes on the shoulder. He’d even spent the extra money for the visor. Trouble was, that wasn’t what had arrived. This box had an entirely different costume. He wasn’t sure if he should be touching anything- this wasn’t his costume after all- but hey, he would be careful. Just a quick look, and then he’d figure out where this mix up had occurred. David had ordered the N7 armor for a reason- there was a convention in a week, and he’d planned on going in the new costume. Maybe there was still time to get everything sorted out. Reaching into the box he pulled out a blue piece of fabric with an embroidered geometric pattern. He looked at it closely. That pattern was actual needlework, not just silk screening. The pattern was like overlapping waves or something. He wasn’t quite sure what kind of clothing item he was holding- but he was certain that it was extremely well made. Setting it aside, careful to make sure he didn’t get it dirty or anything, he selected another item from the box. This one looked like some kind of jumpsuit or body glove, designed for someone short, about six inches shorter than he. The suit was black with a gray accent down the center on both front and back, and the same color on the legs. The material felt surprisingly sturdy, and he couldn’t tell if it was a synthetic rubber, or a latex, or what. He didn’t envy whoever was planning on wearing this thing- there was no way it would be comfortable for very long. He was not expert in cosplay and costuming, but he knew for sure that it would be all too easy to overheat while wearing this thing. He set the suit aside as well, then noticed a soft cloth bag resting in the box. The bag had a surprising weight to it, and whatever was inside felt metallic. He pulled the bag open and blinked. He was holding the unmistakable shape of a quarians helmet visor, colored a pale yellow-gold. The frame around the glass was smoky gray metal- actual metal too, not just painted plastic. “Wow.” David muttered. This costume must have cost a fortune- his N7 armor was plenty expensive, and that was just molded plastic panels. The visor felt like it even had electronics and such- probably for ventilation, and to make sure that the visor didn’t fog up and make it impossible to see. Amazing- how had the creator of this thing even found small enough components? Let along fit them inside? He lifted the other metallic item that had been in the bag- an oddly shaped object that had what looked like connectors for hoses or something. He’d seen similar connectors in the Mass Effect games on the back of the helmets of male quarians. The rest of the helmet, he realized. He lightly pressed the main body of the helmet together with the visor. He half expected a click or something, but nothing happened. Maybe there was a latch or something that he was missing? David raised the visor to his face and looked through it. It didn’t alter colors as much as he would have expected. “I guess Tali actually wasn’t seeing everything as purple,” he muttered. His throat itched, and he turned his head quickly as a sneeze erupted from him. A very forceful sneeze too- it actually hurt, making his ribs ache and his throat prickle. “Ouch,” David said, his breath rasping in his throat. As he breathed he felt something click inside of his chest. His throat felt like there was an invisible hand squeezing it, blocking his air supply. What was going on?! This… what was this?! He tried to stand, to get over to where his cell phone was charging in the kitchen. He needed to call for help- call an ambulance! This was like some kind of allergic reaction or something! He’d learned about this kind of thing a long time ago in first aid training, but he didn’t have any allergies! When he tried to stand though, his legs seemed to catch fire, the muscles burning like they’d been injected with acid. “Ack!” he groaned, his voice whistling as he strained to get air into his lungs. The world seemed to fuzz around him. David grabbed a nearby chair and forced himself into an upright position, even though now his hands were burning as well. Like there were fire ants beneath his skin. Like he’d dipped his hands into boiling water. He forced himself to look at his hands despite how his head was pounding. The flesh of his hands was… wriggling. So were the bones in his hands. Twitching and moving like they had a mind of their own. The gap between his index and middle fingers was… closing. Like a zipper being pulled closed, his fingers were pulling together. Fusing. But the result was not just two oversized fingers- his palms were thinner suddenly, the two fingers he had left looking slender, like they’d been that way his entire life. He coughed again, his chest feeling even more constricted. David… recognized hands like that. Two fingers. Like he was making air quotes. Quarian hands. Made for air quotes. His vision was darkening now from straining to breath. He had an idea- an impossible one, an illogical one. But his only one. With his last remaining bit of strength he stood next to the table and grabbed for the helmet. It hinged open in the center, and he yanked it over his head. It clicked shut as he pressed the halves together. Then he grabbed the visor, clumsily slapping it into place. He heard a distinct whirring noise- and then a hiss as air, filtered air, began to flow over his face. It was cool- and it didn’t make his throat burn like everything else seemed to. Emergency air supply at seventy five percent. He blinked as the message appeared in his field of view, blinking red. Displayed on the helmet visor? Quarians. They couldn’t survive outside of their suits because their immune systems were compromised from so long living on starships, after the Geth forced them to flee after the Morning War. Something from Mass Effect lore. Emergency air supply at sixty percent. Suit. David, with unfamiliar three fingered hands, grabbed for the bodysuit-like section he’d placed on the table. This thing had better stretch! He thought frantically. There was an opening along the back. He tried to step right into the opening like he was pulling on coveralls, but it didn’t work. His foot just wouldn’t fit into the opening for the leg of the suit. Come on- come on! He yanked off his shoe. Still, it didn’t fit. So he stripped down, even removing his underwear. This would definitely mess with the value of the costume- but it wasn’t like he had any other option. None that he could see. Finally his bare foot fit into the leg of the suit, and he pulled the thing on as quickly as he could. He could feel his leg hairs being pulled painfully as he drew the suit upwards. The material was cool and felt slick. It was also very very tight. Emergency air supply at forty five percent. He pulled harder, forcing the suit up over his waist and then ramming his arms into the sleeves, the attached gloves flopping around as he did. The gloves were the only things that actually seemed to fit properly, his fingers slotting neatly into the gloves like they’d been custom made for his distorted hands. No. Not distorted. Changed. He yanked the suit up over his shoulders and tried to reach back to seal the opening. He needn’t have bothered. With a staccato clicking sound the opening cinched itself shut, leaving him enveloped by the too snug material. But nothing else happened. David grabbed the neck of the suit and pressed it hard against the base of the helmet- and heard a whirring sound, then a click. The suit seemed to tighten against him even more, squeezing every inch of his skin. The air supply was still going down! Recycler units not connected David looked around and noticed some small hoses dangling from the suit. He grabbed one at random and tried plugging it into a port on the helmet, just under the visor. He must have gotten lucky- it immediately clicked into place, and the emergency air supply number slowed its descent. That was helping! He grabbed another of the hoses. This time it took him three tries to find the right slot. But again, his air supply improved. More lines felt like cables rather than hoses- but he hooked them up anyway, blindly jamming the connectors into place on the back of the helmet. Finally, the visor announced that his air supply was being replenished. Suit breach detected. Dispensing Immunosuppressant. Something hissed, and David felt cool liquid pouring into his veins. The effect was immediate- his throat opened back up, and his breathing cleared. David leaned against the table for a long moment, just savoring the feeling of air in his lungs- it smelled slightly of chemicals, and the visor was already making him feel claustrophobic, but at least he was alive. The suit even was starting to be less painfully tight. He tried to stand up straight, his hip bumping the edge of the table. That… wait, the table wasn’t tall enough for him to hit his hip against. It only came up to his upper leg. Except… it didn’t. It was at waist level now. David turned around- and realized that the entire room was bigger than it should have been. It was a slight difference- but he noticed it instantly. And… everything was still getting bigger. David shouted in alarm, the noise seeming to echo against the visor. That was when, for the second time that day, his legs gave out. This time it wasn’t just because his muscles were burning- this time, the bones of his legs… snapped. With a noise like a wet branch breaking, his bones creaked and bent and splintered. He felt it. He felt it. Screams, sounding more feral than human, echoed in his ears. His ankle crunched as the bones fused and his heel vanished, even as an entirely new joint appeared in the bone just below his knee. The process took maybe a few moments- it was agonizing, but efficient. Like he was being torn apart and reassembled by the surgical equivalent of a NASCAR pit crew. Breathing hard David tried to stand up- and failed completely, his helmet smacking into the floor. He barely felt the impact- whatever the helmet was made out of, it was sturdy. That was when his pelvis started breaking as well. Not all at once- this was more like a train being derailed car by car than a single violent car crash, like had happened with his legs. Crack! Crack! Crack! He couldn’t even scream now. He didn’t have the energy for it. His pelvis extended to the sides, wider and wider, even as his shoulders too began to change, in exactly the opposite direction, creaking inwards like an accordion being forced closed. An accordion made of flesh and blood. Even in his near unconsciousness David could feel a sickening sensation of movement, as… stuff… moved around within him, relocating mass according to some design that he hadn’t been informed of. He wanted to puke, but his visor informed him that anti-nausea medication was being administered. The changes, whatever was causing them, were moving towards his head. Up his newly narrowed shoulders, it hit him in the face like a punch from a prizefighter. He clawed blindly at the area- but of course could do nothing with the helmet and visor in the way. He wasn’t even sure how to remove them now. The squirming movement seemed to concentrate around a few specific areas- most of it had been pulled away from his midsection, like he was a stress ball full of sand that had been pinched in the middle. This whole time the suit, if anything, fit more and more comfortably, his body conforming to the design of the suit like it was the source of whatever plan was now being enacted on him. That was probably exactly the case- even with everything else happening, he recognized, through the avalanche of strange and frankly agonizing sensations he was feeling, that the suit was to blame. HIs scalp itched as something happened there, and his face was done with whatever was happening to it. Everything seemed to be slowing down- perhaps nearing completion? Everything stopped. For a long time, David could only lie there. His limbs were like jelly. Even when he started to get his energy back, he didn’t want to budge. He was scared. Scared that, even with his body no longer actively rebelling, that he might still not be able to move. Scared that even if he did move, he’d see what had happened to him- what kind of horrible monstrosity he’d just become. But… better to know. Better than lying here. Right? He sat up. “Ow.” He jumped in surprise. “What? Who said-” he demanded, trailing off. The voice was slightly mechanical, and had a bit of an accent, though what kind of accent he wasn’t sure. Most alarming though, was that it was clearly a female voice. A female quarian. David looked down at himself. Anti-nausea medication dispensed. Elevated heart rate detected his visor read. The snug suit left no room for doubt. David was looking at himself- and instead, was seeing a body that most definitely was not his. “Oh. No.” David said, his…. Or, maybe her, stomach churning despite the nausea medication. She tried to get to her feet. But everything bent wrong, and all she managed was to flop over on her back. Even just lying there motionless felt wrong- her lower body was tilted at an odd angle because of hips that felt far too wide and a waist that felt so thin that it would snap entirely if she moved too much. Rolling so that she was flat on her back made her feel like there was some kind of padded surface right beneath her rear. But of course, there was no padded surface. David tried again to get up, feeling like her legs had too many joints, or like she was balancing on tip toe, except instead of just her toes she was trying to use the entire lower half of her leg. Again she fell over. On the next attempt she grabbed a nearby stool and used it for support. The bathroom- and the bathroom mirror- was right over there. It took far longer than it should have- but she made it, clicking on the light. The mirror showed what else, but a quarian. A female quarian, with an unadorned, slightly glossy black suit that hugged her like a second skin, her yellow gold visor the only color aside from the gray accent that went down her front and wrapped around her legs. She was quite… shapely, with strong looking legs and wide hips, contrasted by a thin waist and flat stomach that would have put most models to shame. The chest, because of course she had breasts, seemed well proportioned- even if looking down made them look massive. The fit of the suit accented them, hugging every curve so exactly that it could practically have been painted on. The quarian in the mirror raised her two fingered hands to her visor- and stopped. Quarians could die if they removed their visors. And… now, that meant David. Again struggling to walk, she made her way over to the couch and flopped down. It felt more comfortable than usual. Supplemental padding, David thought sourly. “Damn it.” The curse sounded… cute, honestly. The accent and the voice reminded him strongly of Tali- though, maybe a little younger? David smacked her fists against her legs, and stood, grabbing the stool yet again for support. This was nonsense- this made no sense. Clumping her way to the table she started rooting through the box- the box the helmet and everything else had arrived in. There was more of the embroidered fabric- this one, this one looked like a hood. Apparently the hoods were traditional quarian attire. David had no idea how to put the thing on. She wasn’t in the mood to fiddle with it right now. A leather belt was the next item, a few pouches hanging from it. A tool belt? The pouches were mostly empty though. No ‘reverse the inexplicable transformation’ button, that was for sure. There were some light gray sleeve-looking things like long gloves. A set of boots the same color that looked like they would fit right over the feet of the suit. David tried to put on a boot, and the thing hinged open smoothly to admit her foot, clicking once she pressed it closed again. The boot was a bit heavier than she might have expected- but it also felt a tiny bit more stable. Even though the shape of the boots was nothing like the human version, for a quarian, they were perfect. The only item that David couldn’t tell the purpose of was a metallic wristband, sort of looking like an ID bracelet or something. It looked well used- and one of the gray sleeves seemed to have a slightly worn section that matched the bracelet. She shrugged. Might as well? She pulled the gray sleeve things onto her arms, feeling the material slide smoothly against the suit. The fit was perfect- but of course it was. The sleeves felt sturdy at least- maybe they were to reduce the chance of damaging the actual suit beneath. That would make sense- quarians were renowned for working on machinery, and protecting your suit from unnecessary wear and tear was only smart. Next David slid the bracelet thing on. She felt a slight buzz, like the feeling from a phone as it received a text message. She raised it to take a closer look- and then flinched in surprise as an amber colored… thing flickered into life around her forearm. “No way! An omni-tool?!” she said, poking at the hardlight in awe. “...I have no idea how to use this thing.” she muttered. There were labels for at least some of the controls- labels in english, even, but she still wasn’t sure what she was looking at. Lowering her arm made it shut off automatically. Well- no doubt that would come in handy, once she figured out some of the functions. All that was left on the table now was the tool belt, and the various bits of blue cloth. “Might as well.” she muttered. It took some fiddling to figure them out. There was the hood, which wrapped around her shoulders and went up over the back of her helmet. Then there was a small strip that wrapped around her upper chest, covering one side of her chest. The final, largest piece of material went around her legs. There- it had taken a while, but she was dressed. Feeling marginally more stable on her feet she again went to the bathroom for a look. “Huh. Not bad.” she commented. “Not bad at all.” Not bad, that is, if she could just ignore the fact that she wasn’t looking at a cosplayer, or a picture online, but was looking in a mirror. Yeah. If she could just ignore that part. Back on the couch and unsure of what else to do she started poking at the omni-tool again. Despite the fact that it was literally made out of light, light somehow forced to become solid enough to touch, it didn’t take long for her to start to understand the basics of how to navigate the various menus. It was like a phone, a wallet, and everything, all compacted down and made a thousand years more advanced. In short, just as cool as she’d imagined when playing the games Wait- what was this? An image appeared on the hard light screen, showing a visored face. The same visor that David was wearing right now- not exactly a useful form of identification, but since quarians didn’t often remove their suits, it was probably as good as anything. The name on the ID was Yina'Vomm nar Shacho. “Yina? Not a bad name, I guess,” David said. Another thing of note was that ‘nar’ indicated that ‘Yina’ was probably on her Pilgramage. Well… David was. Or maybe it would be better to think of herself as David now? After all… she wasn’t David. Not looking like this. David shook her head. This was so messed up- worse, there were some very real problems that were going to arise soon. Quarians couldn’t eat normal, human food. Their biology was based on different amino acids, and human food could do anything from not supply any nutrition, to flat out kill via allergic reaction. So she somehow needed to find dextro-amino food. Which didn’t exist on Earth as far as she knew. Even water was going to be an issue- there might be tiny impurities that would cause a similarly deadly reaction. Heck- even the air had nearly killed her earlier, before she’d managed to get the suit on. So… yeah. All of the sudden she was not just an alien, not just a girl… but was in a survival situation like something from ‘The Martian’. Except Mark Whatney had at least had food, and air that he could breath. She was in trouble. For a moment David closed her eyes and tried to slow her breathing, her heart pounding in her ears. It wasn’t just the realization of the situation- it was also the feeling of claustrophobia. Maybe real quarians were used to living inside of these suits- but David had been David a short while ago, and she was feeling like she was going to suffocate. She counted in her head. Inhale. Count of four. Hold. Count of four. Exhale. Count of four. Repeat. It helped. Her heart rate slowed. David picked up the broken TV remote from the coffee table in front of her and started fiddling with it. There had to be something she could do- maybe try and contact the person who had made the costume? That might work- though explaining what had happened would not exactly be an easy task. Proving that Yina the quarian girl was supposed to be David the regular human guy… well, somehow she doubted there was a procedure for that. David blinked, noticing the neatly disassembled remote that she was now holding. She… could tell what was wrong with it. A soldering connection had come loose between the circuit board and the negative battery pole. Nearly working on automatic, she tapped a control on her omni-tool, and a thin metallic rod extruded from the tool, the tip smoking very slightly. A soldering iron. David prodded the loose connection lightly, melting the solder, using her other hand to press the connection back into place. The soldering iron melted back into the omni-tool and she reassembled the remote. It was tricky, now that she was paying attention, since she now had only two fingers and her thumbs. But still, barely a minute later it was complete. “Huh-” she murmured. “I wonder…” She clicked the button, and the TV turned on. David looked at the remote. Looked at the omni-tool. She’d… known how to repair it. Quarians were legendary for their technical skill. Maybe… ________________ David woke up, lifting her head from the table and wincing as she felt the cramp in her neck that the helmet had caused. She looked around- and then yelped, yanking both feet from the floor and staring down at the… thing, scampering around the apartment on four stubby legs. It buzzed, bumped into her chair, and then turned, scampering off in another direction. It was made up of what looked like random computer parts, chunks of plastic milled and fitted into a shell that looked like a squat, bootleg version of one of those robot dogs that showed up online sometimes. David looked around. The apartment was a mess- components lying around like some kind of electronics eating locust swarm had attacked the place. The table in front of her was the focus of the mess- screwdrivers, pliers, bits of salvaged wire. “...Whoa. That… got out of hand.” David said. It had started with just seeing if she could repair an old VCR she’d had lying around. Then she’d started wondering what she could do with the little motors, and the frame of the device. It had snowballed from there- and now the VCR, her blender, the fire alarm, and her microwave were lying in pieces. And she now had some kind of robotic scrap-corgi walking around and bumping into walls. In spite of herself she smiled behind her visor. That… was actually pretty cool. Not good for her apartment, but cool. The scrap-corgi bumped into yet another wall, and David peered at it. “Hmm. Needs more processing power.” she decided. She stood, stretching, and started looking for something that might work. As she did though, she started feeling… strange. Like her suit was shrinking. David felt her shoulders starting to expand, her hips starting to shrink… “What? Whoa!” she blurted. What followed was exactly the opposite of the earlier transformation. She removed the suit as her body reversed its earlier change, hands moving frantically so nothing would get broken by her changes. David removed the helmet, and stood there a moment, naked, looking at the gold colored visor of the helmet in his hands. The rest of the suit was strewn on the ground around him. Had… all of that actually happened? Had it just been a psychotic break, like he had originally thought? Then the scrap-corgi bumped into his leg. Yeah- no way that had just appeared. So… David actually had spent the last… eight hours as a quarian girl, according to the clock. The clock. David was going to be late for his shift! He ran to get ready. Right before he actually left though, he paused. What… what if it happened again? What if… He picked up the pieces of the suit and put them into his backpack. Better safe than sorry. David shuddered, remembering the feeling of starting to suffocate as his throat closed and his body tried vainly to protect him from unseen threats that he could now deal with easily. It felt…. Really good to be out of the suit, honestly. To be able to touch his face without his hand bumping into a visor first. There was one part of the suit he hadn’t put in the backpack- the omni-tool had adjusted to fit his now thicker wrist. It still worked- another confirmation that everything hadn’t been in his head. “...Be good.” he told the scrap-corgi. It beeped at him, and rolled over onto its back. Hopefully that meant yes. At his work he continued wrestling with a particularly annoying coding problem. It was the kind of problem that seemed to get worse every time he actually attempted a fix. That was the trouble with coding- alter one thing, and you end up altering a hundred other things down the line. Sighing, he leaned back in his office chair. Well… there was another option, he realized. Nearly the full shift had passed at this point, and he wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of more unpaid overtime. So he looked around, and activated his omni-tool, his arm held under his desk to hide the amber light. Transferring the file was incredibly easy. As complex as the omni-tool was, it also was very easy to learn to use. Good user interface design. The omni-tool buzzed after a moment, and he passed the file back to his computer. “Nice.” he said happily. The code was working! The problem had been… He palmed his forehead. “One. Missing. Semicolon.” he sighed. “Of course. Well, at least I can go home on… time.” he said. His shoes felt funny. Like his feet were sliding around inside. “Not again. Not now!” David said. He yanked off his shoe- and saw two toes. He swore and grabbed his backpack, rushing to the nearest restroom. “Bad. Bad bad bad bad!” He started getting changed, hands fumbling as leg bones changed and his breathing became harsh. It still was agonizing- but he had to get the suit on. He managed it, right before the changes completed. David, now Yina, leaned against the side of the bathroom stall, feeling lightheaded from the pain. The pain was gone now- but the memory of it clung to her, echoes of agony. “...Great. I’m at work, and I’m like this.” she said to the empty room. “And I take the bus home,” she sighed, dropping her helmet into her hands. No way around it. She picked up her backpack and headed to the bus stop. Yina kept her head down, trying to not notice the whispering, the sounds of surprise, as she waited for the bus. Come on, she thought to herself. Hurry up! “There a Trekkie convention in town or something?” someone nearby asked. Trekkie?! Yina nearly corrected him, but realized that starting a discussion was the last thing she needed. “Y-yeah.” she said. “Trying to make it over there.” “How’d you make the legs look like that?” “Uh… that’s a s-secret.” The guy shrugged. “Well, whatever. Looks good.” “Thanks.” The bus finally arrived. Aside from people taking pictures, the ride was uneventful. Except… What was that? In a nearby park. A park she had gone past countless times on the way to work. There was something that looked like an abstract statue- a tall, nearly organic looking pillar type thing. To most people, it would be a harmless, if somewhat bizarre, piece of public art. To Yina, it made her blood run cold. That was a Relay. A Mass Effect Relay. Or… more specifically, the Relay Monument. Something that should have been on the Citadel. She stared at it until long after the bus had passed the park. That couldn’t be a coincidence. It couldn’t be. Back at her apartment she fiddled with the scrap corgi. “More processor power. Where am I gonna find…” The thought was interrupted by her stomach growling loudly. Oh. Oops. She’d completely forgotten about eating, with the chaos of being late for work and everything. “...Hopefully I change back again.” she grumbled. If not… Well, this was going to become a problem. Humans could survive without food for quite a while, but could quarians? Water was even more of an issue. Just thinking about it was making her feel thirsty. But she didn’t dare drink anything without getting it filtered first. This suit probably had a way to ‘reclaim’ water, but that meant… Well, it was gross. The processor power was eventually acquired by peeling apart the Playstation 3 that had been sitting, untouched, next to his TV for over a year now. It was obsolete- might as well use it for a good cause. Yina opened up the scrap-corgi and spliced in the added memory and processor chips. Thankfully she’d left plenty of room in the housing- nice to know she’d been thinking clearly enough to leave room for upgrades. Last night she’d been in a sort of half focused daze. “Well… I’ve had worse results from a panic attack.” she told the scrap-corgi as she finished the upgrade. It took a few steps, turned to look at her. It was supposed to navigate by using a very low powered version of the magneton from the microwave oven. Apparently it worked, since the scrap-corgi no longer was bumping into walls. She would have rather used a purpose built sensor, like lidar or a camera array, but this was good enough for what she had access to. “...I’ll call you Hal.” she decided. Possibly tempting fate- but it seemed fate was already determined to mess with her. It was getting dark outside- before the sun went all the way down there was something that she needed to check on. “Come on.” she told Hal. “We’re going on a walk.” Getting to the park took about fifteen minutes. Yina was much steadier on her legs now, at least, though she still kept having to strain to not fall flat on her back. Hal, in contrast, trotted along easily. The few people who they passed seemed content not to comment on the odd pair. So much the better- maybe bringing Hal with her had been a bad idea. What had she been worried about- that he’d chew up the furniture somehow? Leak oil on the rug? There it was- the Relay. She walked closer, examining it. It was a lot taller in person than it had looked in the game. “What are you even doing here?” she said quietly, addressing the Relay. “You get lost, sort of like me? Well… I didn’t get lost. Not really. I’m home- but I guess I don’t belong here anymore. Not right now anyway.” The Relay of course didn’t answer. What had she expected- that it would answer? She blinked. Wait- was it moving? The circular piece near the base started rotating with a sudden lurch. Wait- As far as she knew Relays only did that when… “Crap. Crap crap crap!” she shouted. She grabbed Hal and started running. There was a flash… And everything went dark. Her stomach flip flopped, and she couldn’t tell which way was down. A moment later, the edge of a planet circled into view. A planet, seen from space. She let go of Hal in shock- and Hal drifted into the air in front of her visor, his legs wiggling. No- not into the air. She was in space somehow. . “Oh.” she said after a moment. “OH.” She swore, thrashing back and forth like it was going to accomplish something. “Oh crap! How did-” Yina sputtered, her stomach rebelling. A tiny line of text flickered across her visor, announcing that anti-nausea medication was being dispensed. That helped- it was bad enough that she was suddenly adrift in space without puking in her helmet. Adrift. In space. Again the planet revolved past, a motion blurred smear of greens and blues and tans. “Alright. Think.” Yina said to herself. “There’s plenty of air in your suit. But there’s not much water, and no food- and I have no way of knowing if I’m in a stable orbit, or if I’m heading deeper into space, or what.” she said, having sudden, unpleasant flashbacks to Kerbal Space Program. Then there was the other problem- if the pattern repeated, she had only a little over five hours before she changed back to human David, who would not fit inside this suit. “Uh, the radio in my suit isn’t very strong, so I need to figure something else out if someone is going to find me. Maybe my omni-tool?” Something bumped into her leg. She looked down to see Hal the scrap corgi, propelled into her by a trick of zero gravity physics. Yina grabbed him by reflex- having something solid in her hands was honestly a relief, even if she was still floating out in the void. Looking at Hal, she noticed the magneton she’d recently attached. She went to work, working one handed to strip wires and reconnect them, the other hand clinging to Hal. After a moment she unfastened one of the leather belts on her suit and used it to connect her to Hal, letting her work with both hands. She planned out circuits in her head, having to guess for all too much of it. But if it worked, then it worked. And if it didn’t… she’d try again. If it still didn’t work, then there was a good chance that it wouldn’t matter anymore. Yina checked her wiring, checked the power supply, the magneton, the connections to her omni-tool. And engaged the program. Hal went still, his legs stuttering to a halt, as his power supply was diverted. The magneton didn’t vibrate, or visibly heat or anything, but according to her omni-tool it was now putting out a pulse of microwaves, in the classic SOS pattern. Even if that wasn’t understood outside of Earth, because that sure wasn’t Earth down there, it was obviously not a natural signal. She activated her omni-tool radio as well, synching it with the magneton. Between the two… she’d done everything that she could. Now she just needed to survive until help arrived. “...Uh, suit, do you have a, maybe a stasis program? To slow my breathing and everything?” A moment passed. Engaging survival mode, her visor displayed. Yina felt her eyes slide shut, the leather belt making sure that she and Hal didn’t drift apart. Her muscles went limp, and her mind faded into unconsciousness. She dreamed of a garden. A garden sealed behind glass. Or… maybe she was the one sealed behind glass. Yina snapped awake to see metal flooring. She was lying on the ground- or, lying on a deck. “No, it’s not a Fenrir. This thing is obviously just home made.” someone was saying. She sat up, then winced, her limbs aching and head pounding until her suit dispensed anaesthetics. “She’s up.” There was a small group of turians standing nearby, examining Hal the scrap corgi, which seemed to be enjoying the attention. One turian, with an important looking uniform, walked over. “You alright? We picked up that distress signal- how in the world did you end up all the way out here?” Yina didn’t have an answer. Thankfully, another turian, a female, interrupted. “Captain, we should get her to sickbay. She might have internal injuries. You can question her later.” Yina nodded weakly, and soon she was on a stretcher, Hal bouncing alongside. “We’ve got a sterile room onboard- you’ll have to treat yourself I’m afraid, but it’s better than nothing.” said the female turian. Yina nodded, and they placed her into a small, white walled room, closing the door behind them. A display on the wall showed that it was being re-sterilized. When it finally completed, she removed her mask. The air was warm and dry against her face. She wasn’t sure what would happen next. She wasn’t even sure how long it might be before the cycle of changes continued, and she was back to her human self for a while. She wasn’t sure where she was, or how that Relay had sent her into what seemed to be the literal Mass Effect universe. But she was alive. What would happen next… she would just have to wait and see.