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    “What a beautiful child!” the nurse exclaimed as the infant came forth from the womb, taken off to be cleaned and wrapped while her parents waited patiently in the other room. How strange the world was to a newborn. Without the cognitive ability to yet produce comprehensible memories, what happened that day in the hospital would never be known to the child, were it not for the man holding the PDA, recording as his wife had the opportunity to hold their baby for the first time.

    Months prior, they’d decided together on a name for the child that his wife still had inside of her at the time. Were it a boy, they would have named him Jason. In this case, the child was destined to walk the rest of their life with the name of Arthalanea Hawthorne.

    Leaving the hospital that day, the child was given several envious looks not only by regular patrons, but by the workers as well. Not everyone had the privilege of being daughter to Graham Hawthorne, the Governor of the southern New Zealand island. From the viewpoint of any sensible person, it was to be assumed that the young Hawthorne child would have a very privileged upbringing.

    Instead of checking out that evening, the Governor and his wife remained in the hospital overnight to ensure everything was well with their daughter.

     “Smile! You’re only five years old once, sweetheart!” her mother said before a digitalized ‘click’ was heard as her father took the picture of the duo standing in front of her birthday cake. Though the memories of her early childhood are not only few and far in-between, but also incredibly vague, there were some points in her life that the child would never forget.

    Her life was simple and easy as a toddler. She’d learned to walk and talk and seemed to notice that her mother was around almost all of the time, as opposed to her father who seemed to always be busy or simply not around at all, save for important occasions. Most of her instruction was through private tutors and teachers hired to provide the girl with ‘an exceptional education’ as her father had taken to calling it.

    As a result of this, the young girl has become estranged from the social world of children beyond the walls of their estate in the uptown district of Karnak. Though her choice of companions was limited, she came to know a set of twins by the names of Eugene and Eleanor DeVries, who were the children of her father’s sister. While it was never directly mentioned, the girl had come to hypothesize that her cousins had no father. Though, the idea was nearly preposterous to her at the time. After-all, who did she know who didn’t have a father? Certainly not her!

    “Oh, crap, Arthur! Uncle Graham’s going to -kill- us!” Was the first thing that she heard when she opened her eyes. Eleanor was looking down at her wide-eyed and looking absolutely mortified at the situation.

    “Hey, way to go, slugger,” Eugene said with a phrase laced with enough sarcasm to feed the entirety of a poor continent as he patted his sister on the back.

    The last thing that Arthur remembered was that she was pretending to sword fight with Eleanor. The two of them were sparring with wooden sticks taken from a nearby tree in the park they were in. Her eyes were all watery and her nose was really, really damp, despite the fact that it was particularly warm. She removed her mitten and reached up to touch at the damp sensation coming from her nose, only to realise that she was bleeding pretty profusely as a result.

    “I didn’t mean to hit her in the face!” Eleanor fussed like the ten year old she was. In the meantime, Eugene took a knee and helped Arthur stand up. Her head felt a little wobbly, but she was otherwise fine. At least -- she would have been fine if her nose wasn’t dripping blood all over the snow.

    This wasn’t the first time that Arthur found herself being an unfortunate casualty of roughhousing and general horseplay. Unlike Eleanor, Arthur seemed to take after Eugene’s personality rather than another girl’s. The typical ‘girl’ things seemed to bore her to death, and even Eleanor had accused her of ‘secretly being a boy’, which lead to both of the siblings referring to her as ‘Arthur’. This never bothered her, she encouraged it in-fact.

    Eugene knelt back down in the snow and collected a small chunk of it in his gloved hands. He raised it up and offered it to Arthur, “Your dad’s gonna’ murder us if he finds out Ellie smacked you with a branch! Use this to clean your face off or something.”

    If the trio weren’t out climbing trees or playing ‘Humans Versus Turians’, they found themselves exploring. The idea of exploration had always fascinated Arthur, especially when it came to the idea of outer space. She envied spacers and astronauts, who were able to come and go as they pleased from the various spaceports littered around the harbor.

    After using more than a few handfuls of snow, Arthur managed to ‘wash’ the blood off of her face. While she didn’t like lying to her father about their adventures, not only did it keep them out of trouble, but it kept him from having to have an adult accompany them on their endeavors.

     Arthur stood on the edge of town with her hand up against the transparent bio-dome that surrounded Armstrong on the natural satellite known as Luna. The recycled air and the claustrophobic environment were something that she loathed. The adolescent often found herself in solace, daydreaming about the open world beyond the dome that had been housing her and the remainder of her family since the disaster that ousted her father from office and caused a particularly brutal divorce between the two Hawthornes. Arthur’s mother took custody of their daughter. The girl thought often of Eleanor and her aunt who, in similar fashion to her own father, did not leave Earth with the rest of them. Eugene now lived with her and her mother and was intending to attend the local Alliance Naval Academy.

    After much forethought and contemplation, Arthur decided that she too would join the Naval Academy in an attempt to get away from her mother and the undesirable lifestyle that the dome provided for the inhabitants. While life in the dome was by no means ‘poor’ or ‘bad’, it was not something that she necessarily wanted to grow accustomed to for the rest of her life. Now more than ever, the girl developed a fancy for travelling the galaxy.

“Perhaps one day I could be a spacer, or work on a ship,” she often mused to herself, or to Eugene in council.

     After the loss of her father, Arthur’s mother was in strong opposition of her daughter leaving home in fear that she, too, would be lost. While she did her best in an attempt to understand her mother’s heartache, she found it difficult. The adolescent wanted to believe that her life was her own, and that she was able to take in whichever direction she fancied. With that mindset came the decree that she would follow in Eugene’s footsteps and graduate from the Naval Academy in an attempt to make something of herself.

     Having put off joining the Naval Academy for nearly a year, Arthur had never been so glad to breathe in the ‘fresh’ air from her dormitory after having been accepted into the Officers’ program. Her, along with the rest of her class were moved to a facility beneath the bio-dome inside of the moon itself. Life underground wasn’t as bad as she thought it would be, all things considered. The shelter they stayed in had working water, enough space to be relatively comfortable in, and the plumbing worked fine. The rations they had were military-grade and were actually something she came to enjoy. Eugene, being claustrophobic, did not take as well as she did and more often than not, sought her company in an attempt to keep himself from bouncing off the walls.

    As soon as possible, she made an attempt to contact her mother who had been worried sick during the endeavor. While Eugene was going for a career as a communications specialist, Arthur never found herself particularly interested in pursuing the role of someone working in a CIC or on a bridge. She fancied the role of a Yeoman, starting out.

     It wasn’t until the summer of 2179 that Arthur and Eugene Hawthorne graduated from the Naval Academy of Armstrong. Arthur in particular had decided that she was interested in pursuing a career in the military in order to pay off her schooling. With a degree in human psychology, Arthur enlisted in the Alliance Navy in hopes of being able to pursue her childhood dreams of walking among the stars on a vessel.


     Through boot, Arthur was not the most athletic nor the best shot. She had the determination, but not the talent to join the Army which she crossed off her list fairly early-on. Having no medical experience or interests for that matter, the Hospital Corps was also taken off of her list. As an adolescent, she was never particularly fond of authority nor was she lacking in IQ points, which made the Provost Corps a definite no.

    The woman was accepted and passed through boot after barely meeting the quota. After doing her research on Rates that pertained to her post-secondary specialization, Arthur took it upon herself to shoot for an Operations Specialist position onboard a warship as an Ensign. Such a position would facilitate her attempts to do well at her job and duties whilst keeping her away from things she was not as adept or familiar with.

     In the months she’d been stationed about the SSV S-M-T-M, Hawthorne found herself going through several simulations and privatized training protocols completely unrelated to the work she was told she would be doing. There were three others who also participated in these endeavors with her. Ensign Mitchel Elias, Ensign Jason York, and Petty Officer Three Marziale Tigonna. She quickly noticed that her and her colleagues were very different people with different skill sets. While Elias and York were also Naval Academy graduates from other continents, Marziale was an enlisted crewman. She was easily the greenest out of the group.

     These simulations were not necessary combat oriented, others were oriented around sneakier objectives of a more shadowed nature but for the most part were primarily intelligence-based simulators, as if they were being tested for something specific. The reasoning behind them was never given, nor did they ever find themselves doing typical POG things like they all expected to be doing. It was quickly picked up on by both themselves as well as their supervisors that the quartet all had a gift, putting them above even standardized test levels. Perhaps, Arthur thought, this was why they were the ones going through these sims and not regular soldiers. Perhaps they were in-store for something special.

     Without realizing it straight away, it wasn’t until she was lined up in front of a woman known as little other than Watcher-One, the woman who had overseen them in their training. While she was not the director, she was in-charge of the mission coordinators on-board the ship. While she herself did not command a team like all other Watchers did, something interesting happened in the spring of 2180.

     “Reporting, ma’am,” Arthur said as she and her three companions stepped into the gaunt-featured woman’s office. She looked the four of them over and nothing was said for a few long drawn out moments until the Watcher laid out four profiles on the desk in front of her. “Are any of you aware of what these are?” she asked.

     "No, ma’am,” they said simultaneously.

     “These are your portfolios. From your time as recruits up until this point. Do you have any idea why I’ve called you in here today?” the woman then asked.

     Not a single person from the quartet was able to answer, which lead to no answer being given at all. The four of them simply kept their eyes on the woman behind the desk and waited for her to clarify as they figured she would.

     “The four of you have demonstrated excellent results thus far, which is why you’re going to be redirected. From here on out, I will be your liaison. You won’t be classified as crewmen of this ship any longer, nor will you bunk with your crewmates, eat with them or do anything productive with them,” she explained.

     Arthur grew curious and took it upon herself to ask, “Why is that, ma’am?”

     The woman glanced at her from behind her thick-rimmed glasses. She leaned forward and locked her fingers as she brought her hands together. “Because, effective immediately, Ensign. The four of you are being transferred.

Welcome to the bureau of Naval Intelligence.”

   Several years had come to pass before Arthur found herself stationed upon the Citadel as a mission coordinator for a group of N2 Operators. While she had little contact with the other few people who’d she’d been inducted with initially, the now-Lieutenant-Junior-Grade found herself operating nearly independently with her team, tasking them accordingly in their endeavors across the galaxy. While her job was particularly up-and-down when it came to success rates, Arthur’s superiors found themselves taking in interest in her evident abnormally high intelligence.

    These pick-ups resulted in her nomination for one of the Naval Intelligence cybernetic programs in order to boost both her neurological as well as her intellectual capacities. At Watcher-One’s request, she was returned to the SSV ‘Show-Me-The-Money’ in order to work alongside her old companions in the interest of assisting Naval Intelligence’s Top Secret Projects Division as a slicer to help decrypt Reaper assets that could have been considered beneficial to the Crucible Project after her team was re-routed to Earth in an all-hands-on-deck defence of the human homeworld.

    After the waning hours of the Reaper War, Arthur was recalled to Earth after victory was assured. After having been debriefed accordingly and awarded a medal of Valor for her hard work, the woman was being prepped for immediate reassignment. Her destination would be the lucrative vessel known as the SSV London, in order to accompany Task Force Outlander as both their chief cryptologist and mission coordinator.