Prologue

March 12, 2184

It had only been six months after Sovereign had attempted to bring the Reapers into the galaxy. Six months of interviews, award ceremonies, funerals, and debriefings. Six months of doubts.

Commander John Shepard, Systems Alliance soldier and the first human Spectre, looked at hustle and bustle of the wards from the balcony of his apartment. He liked the view-there weren't any reminders of the battle with Sovereign and Saren around. The sight of Saren's flesh burning off haunted his dreams every night. Not even the memories of the Skyllian Blitz were that bad-and he had been practically neck deep in blood and guts at the end.

Shepard sighed, entered the sparsely decorated apartment, got breakfast, and listened to the news-which included a brief mention of some progress in reverse engineering technology gleaned from the remains of the Reaper. In the future, lives would be saved by the discoveries gleaned from Sovereign's remains.

Shepard knew intellectually he had made the right choices up to and during the battle. Calling in the Fifth Fleet to save the Council-an action that earned humanity a seat on the Council-had resulted in the deaths of hundreds of human servicemen and women.

He still hated himself for doing it.

Shepard shoved those thoughts out of his head as he put his uniform on before heading out the door. As he walked down the streets of the ward, he ignored the constant glances of the people around him and walked briskly to the nearest Citadel mass transit car. After settling into the car and setting Citadel Tower as the destination, Shepard leaned back and thought I should consider staying on the Normandy while we're here.

Has six months of shore leave already gone by? The crew should be arriving soon for the shake down cruise. After the battle with Sovereign, some of Normandy's builders had arrived to inspect the ship and install some upgrades that might be used on Normandy's sister ship Marathon; after Normandy's impressive performance during the Battle of the Citadel, there had been no doubt that there would more like her, especially when the Council was subsidizing construction of at least nineteen more.

He wondered what the Council wanted with him...

There were many things that the Council didn't want the common person to know. For example, the fact that the Council wanted to send a fleet into the Terminus Systems to secure Ilos. The mere threat of the rouge states in the area uniting was enough to ensure that word of the project would never travel through official means, which could allow a team of Salarian hackers to discover the plan. Secrecy and misdirection were the keys to success.

No mission to Ilos would be complete without Dr. Liara T'soi, the foremost expert in the Protheans (not taking account the fact that Shepard had for all intents and purposes the sum total of Prothean knowledge lodged in his brain). The fact that she had actually been planetside and knew a bit of the geography of the main survey site was also a factor in her selection. That was why she and dozen other people were stuck in a nondescript office near the Presidium, anxiously working out the incredibly complicated logistics for the venture.

"Dr. T'Soni?" Liara looked up from a data pad, containing a list of prospective personnel for the expedition's scientific contingent, to see one of the human workers standing in front of her. Liara struggled to remember the man's name (and failed) before responding with a plain, simple "Yes?"

"You've got a message from Commander Shepard," the man whispered. Liara felt a surge of gratitude for the man's discretion and thanked him. She quickly went into her private office-screened four times a day by C-Sec for bugs, a perk of having such an important job- and turned on her personal computer.

She immediately saw Shepard's message-one would've had to have been blind to miss the huge letters- and the implications in it. It read:

"Get to the Normandy ASAP. Very important mission. I need you and your skills."

There are many things that a common person will rarely see. Some of them incredible, some of them mundane, but none as unexpected as a turian and a krogan sitting together in a nice lounge, eating lunch and talking. If a person randomly professed to seeing such a thing, they would immediately be branded a liar unless they had proof. Luckily for the other patrons in the lounge, they all had cameras on them to record what surely seemed like the prelude to Hell turning into an idyllic meadow.

The two individuals in question were Urdnot Wrex, krogan merc, and Garrus Vakarian, Spectre candidate. The topic for their pleasant conversation was railing kills, something so esoteric that none but the most experienced mercs and soldiers could comprehend it. In other words, they were bragging about kills they had made while hunting Saren. Which happened to number in the hundreds, giving them a lot to talk about.

"Like I was saying, I hit this geth in the chest with a burst of sledgehammer rounds and it flips over the rail behind it, flailing about and screeching as it fell." Garrus grinned (as much as a turian could, anyway) as Wrex chuckled, picturing the geth in his mind. A sudden beep from his pocket killed his amusement.

"Looks like play time's over. Sounds like Shepard wants us back ASAP," Wrex muttered to Garrus, who nodded and placed some credits on the table.

"Better not keep the Commander waiting," Garrus paused, then whispered to Wrex, "especially if it's something exciting."

If a krogan and turian sitting together without trying to kill each other was a precursor to Hell becoming Heaven, then a constantly grinning krogan was the precursor to laws of physics ceasing to apply and society devolving into an orgy of depravity until the end of time (and possibly beyond).

It was that scary.

Down in the Normandy's mess, Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams was busy reading. Not reading such things as poetry and "romance novels", but articles on how the next model of Lancer rifle would be best thing since buttered toast. Which was pretty much the same thing weapons designers had been saying for several centuries (and failed to deliver on).

"So, Gunny, what are doing? Trying to burn your eyes out of your skull?" quipped Jeff "Joker" Moreau, who had become a celebrity thanks to his spectacular handling of the Normandy, which only exacerbated his seemingly arrogant attitude. Due to Vrolik syndrome, which made his leg bones extremely brittle, Joker rarely left the bridge... which made his sudden appearance in the mess all the more surprising-much to her displeasure.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were busy being a role model for everyone with Vrolik's Syndrome?" Williams' retort had no effect on Joker- it curved around him like light curves around something with a large gravitational field; Joker's ego was as powerful as Jupiter's gravity- and it was constantly growing.

"Just wanted to get some coffee... and let you know that the Commander is aboard. As soon the others get aboard, we'll be leaving dock." He grabbed a mug full of steaming hot coffee and tossed in liberal amounts of sugar and milk while Williams mused.

"Any word on where we're going?" Williams wondered aloud. Joker shrugged before adding in a low, conspiratorial tone, "All I know is that Pressly and Shepard had a quiet talk before he locked himself in the comm room."

"You think this will screw up the shake down?"

"Chief," Joker slowly got to his feet, "this ship will never have a normal shake down. Ever."

Lieutenant Commander Pressly, promoted for commanding Normandy during the Battle of the Citadel, was not happy- in fact, he was incredibly irritated. First, he had to cancel liberty because of a surprise deployment. Then he had deal with some techs complain about not being able to disembark-Pressly figured that if something went wrong, having the techs on hand would be useful. Third, he had to plot a course to an area in a mass relay dead zone- a place without a corresponding primary relay or nearby secondary relays.

Still, he tried to be on his best behavior when they came aboard. "They" being three of the four aliens Commander Shepard had recruited during the hunt for Saren- Liara, Wrex, and Garrus. During that first cruise, Shepard had told Pressly to keep an open mind about them and Pressly, to his credit, had done so- he didn't exactly trust them, but he respected them and their contributions during the mission. In fact, he respected them far more than the alien Council members, who were still taking a beating in the galactic press for their near fatal inaction.

He quickly put them out of his mind and got to work; still, questions arose. The Reapers had said that they had created the mass relays so civilization would form along paths that they desired; why would the Reapers avoid the area? What was there that warranted the Normandy's deployment?

What was waiting for them when they got there?

T + 1hr, March 12, 2184

Tali'Zorah Nar Rayya walked quickly up the flight of stairs to the bridge, idly wondering why it took the elevator so long to up one deck. As a quarian, Tali liked stairs for the same reason other quarians did: stairs were far less likely to break down compared to (possibly) three hundred year old elevators. Not to mention the health benefits of constantly using stairs throughout one's life. Or the fact that most elevators in Citadel space took forever to go up or down one floor.

She knew that she didn't have to be aboard. She had the data Shepard had recovered about the evolution of the geth, which was a gift that no captain in the Migrant Fleet could refuse. But there was a nagging feeling in the back of her mind that if she went back now, she would be denying herself opportunities that the Fleet rarely offered: adventure and a chance to make a difference.

Like most members of the Normandy's crew, Tali was extremely curious about the ship's mission. Down in the engine room, there had been speculation about a dormant Reaper being found or a possible Prothean super weapon that had been left adrift. She suddenly realized that she was right at the door of the comm room, having walked up the stairs and into bridge without realizing it.

Tali chuckled to herself as she entered the comm room; it was a common saying among quarians that any quarian could walk through any ship blind- as long as they had a guide the first time. As she took a seat next to Garrus, she noticed Shepard fiddling with the holographic display, which began to display a galactic map. There was an icon where the Citadel was and several highlighted areas near the edge of the galaxy. The highlighted area between the Citadel and Earth flashed intermittently.

"Now that we're all here, it's time to explain what's going on," Shepard began. "The Council is sending us into a mass relay dead zone, as if Pressley's grousing hasn't told you that already." Everybody chuckled at that.

"We're the first ship to enter the region, but practically everyone has sent probes in, trying to find mass relays and coming up with nothing. And those are the ones that we've received signals from; most just disappear without a trace."

"So why are we going in?" asked Wrex, who was obviously bored out of his mind.

"Four months ago, a salarian probe picked up a signal from a nebula in the area. One that was apparently created by some sort of intelligence." Shepard tapped part of the display's control panel and at once, the garbled sound of sound of string and other instruments playing a ethereal tune filled the room. After about three minutes, the music ended and a sudden silence filled the room, broken only by Wrex, snorting in disgust.

"Well, that was... underwhelming," opined Garrus.

"It would be, if it hadn't been playing constantly and increasing in volume since the probe first picked it up and until the probe died two weeks ago," replied Shepard. "The Council decided that this could potentially signify a new threat to the galaxy, separate from the Reapers, or a potential new ally. Or some sort of Prothean artifact; there are too many possibilities to list. That's why the Normandy's was selected this mission; her stealth and drive systems were deemed necessary for the mission's success. "

"But what about us? I doubt you're bringing us along for sentimental reasons," Tali commented. Shepard cracked a smile while the others chuckled.

"They were going to give me a bunch of nameless grunts as backup, but I convinced them that you guys were worth a thousand grunts. And the fact is, I don't want a repeat of the Haliat fiasco." Shepard grimaced as he remembered being trapped inside an abandoned mine with a nuke; it had been planted by the mastermind of the Skyllian Blitz in the hopes of killing Shepard and restoring Haliat's prestige among the pirates and criminals of the Attican Traverse. "Having a second team gives us more flexibility in dealing with whatever we might face on this mission. Not to mention all that running around, trying to find information or do something."

"Any idea on who's going to be on what team, sir?" asked Williams. Shepard shrugged and said, "Nothing concrete besides each team will have a tech, a biotic, and a soldier. We've got three weeks to work out the details. Dismissed."

April 2, 2184

Garrus groaned as he pulled himself out of his sleeper pod, grimacing as his feet hit the cold gantry between the two rows of pods. He trudged off towards the head, mind not totally reintegrated with reality. He performed the normal morning ritual of using the toilet, brushing his teeth, and washing his face, the same as most intelligent organic lifeforms, before grabbing a bite to eat from the mess. Garrus slowly walked on to the bridge, chewing on a dextro-amino protein bar, looking for Shepard or Pressley; it was very annoying to learn something happened in your sleep way after it happened.

As Garrus made his way to the very front of the bridge, where Joker usually resided, he suddenly realized that the ship was "rigged for silent running", as the humans said. That realization triggered a memory of Shepard explaining that the Normandy would activate its stealth systems on final approach to the target, just to be safe. He could hear snippets of conversation between Shepard, Joker, and Pressley as he approached; Shepard glanced over his shoulder and motioned for Garrus to come closer.

"Nice timing. We've stumbled upon four unknown ships which appear to be carriers," Shepard muttered to Garrus. "They don't seem to have kinetic barriers, but they've got lots of what appear to be guns and fighters."

"How many fighters on each?" inquired Garrus, as he slipped into the seat next to Joker's. On the screen in front of him, Garrus could see that the top and bottom sections of the hull resembled giant Y's, with one stem facing "forward" and the other "back."

"Nearly eight hundred," Pressley grimly replied as he checked some readouts. "The good news is that even without our stealth systems online, they'd never find us; they're using radar for God's sake."

"Well, lets not forget the fact that the things are fucking huge too," quipped Joker. "And there's four of them, not just one huge behemoth, and we don't have a fleet with us."

"Don't be so cynical," Garrus replied. "Maybe we won't have to fight."

"Commander," Pressley interpolated, "several dozen ships have just appeared out of no where- two of them appear to be dreadnoughts. I'm picking up some transmissions regarding power loss from all the new arrivals."

"How do you know that?" asked Garrus. Pressley smoothly replied with, "Because they're speaking on non-secure radio frequencies."

"Pressley, that still wouldn't let you understand what their saying," Shepard considered the conundrum for a second. "Wait... that means we've already encountered their language."

"Yes sir. The computer says that the language in the transmissions is a synthesis of various versions of Greek." Pressley's eyebrows rose in surprise. "Greek? How is that possible?"

"Obviously, aliens abducted Greeks and dumped them in the ass-end of nowhere." Everyone just glared at Joker before focusing on the situation at hand. "It was just an idea," he lamely protested.

"I have a bad feeling about this. Keep an eye on the carriers. Let me know..." Shepard's voice faded as he saw the carriers launch all of their fighters on the lasar readout. He quickly recovered and turned to Pressley. "Sound general quarters. We're going in."

Joker smirked at Garrus and said, "You were saying?"