Set in the universe of Mass Effect, the following story concerns the events of both the First Contact War and the waning days of the Reaper invasion. It contains violence and descriptions of explicit acts of a xenophilic nature, and is intended for a mature audience. If you desire to skip to the material in question, scroll ahead to Chapter 4. Mass Effect is copyright BioWare/Electronic Arts.

The Long Way Home

Prologue

Cruiser PFS Ruin Wake, 10.29.2186

Commodore Severen Nox stared broodingly at the star chart before him, plotting the flight path of the cruiser away from Palaven. He stared at four holographic wedges representing the broken remnants of his provisional battle group in disbelief. For the past three days his command had resisted a renewed Reaper offensive that had whittled his forces down to the last bastion, forcing him from the conn of one vessel to the next as his heaviest ships were sequentially knocked out of commission from underneath him. The turian's mandibles flicked momentarily, his bearing strained by a combination of impotent anger and exhaustion.

Severen would have gladly died in orbit defending his home like so many of his kin, just as he would have embraced riding his burning flagship down, to become a fortress defending the soil of his home world alongside the infantry- and he would have happily taken his last breath howling defiantly at the fatal red eyes of those infernal machines- if it were not for the Hierarchy's orders at the eleventh hour that his surviving vessels flee to fight another day.

We will live, he decided, to make them pay a bigger price in the end. For now his priority was to ensure that they lasted long enough to make port and restock their silos and magazines before making their vengeance a reality. On the viewport ahead of him, a micrometeorite shower flashed harmlessly by, like so many tracers seeking a mark upon the ranks of the invaders left behind-

"-are assembled sir, and awaiting your briefing."

Broken from his ruminations, Commodore Severen turned to face the section officers of the Ruin Wake, a dozen grim faces awaiting his command. He acknowledged the words of his executive officer and stepped back from the viewport, pacing around the holographic projections of the star map as he cleared his throat to speak.

"We have all had it ingrained in us that obedience is the foundation of discipline. That doesn't mean our discipline wasn't tested when the word came in to go. If you feel that it's not right for us to leave the fight for home like this, believe me when I say I'm with you. But in any circumstance we have to trust that we were ordered into this to provide a strategic advantage for every other world under siege. Take a small measure of solace in the fact that we'll have a better chance to take more of the bastards out in the long run. This fight is far from over."

He saw their resolve harden at his words, a few heads nodding silently. He continued,

"The fallback position is the Manta Reef, an Alliance deep-space station equipped to repair and rearm our capital ships. Unfortunately, the station is reporting a high threat from nearby Reaper incursion and is being towed closer to the Citadel to maintain the defensive line. Furthermore, our fastest route there, through the Shanxi-Theta Relay is cut off, due to heavy Reaper ambushes reported from the last fleet movement through it twenty hours ago. Instead we will bypass it through the Avalon Expanse to take 314 to Widow Relay, where the station should probably be by our time of arrival, estimated to be in about six days."

A junior officer stepped in from the back of the room and conferred briefly with the Operations Deputy, an energetic personality who relayed the message at a fast clip.

"Sir, the Iconoclast is reporting drive core rupture, they won't be able to transit farther than the local heliopause by their estimates. Captain Toriyev is requesting permission to arrange crew transfer between us and the Havinclaw before we reach it."

Severen swore. With the loss of the Ruin Wake's sister ship, he was down to a single cruiser, a limping destroyer, and a frigate bringing up the rear. He mentally calculated how many of his crew would have to hot-bunk with an additional member. He figured it would likely affect the entire 270-odd complement of the cruiser, and leave the Havinclaw equally packed. The destroyer Illuminator would offer more room, except for the fact that several of her decks were perforated by Reaper fire and breathable air was now a precious commodity that would be endangered by the exhalations of another hundred souls. The coming six days would be a bit of a squeeze, and rationing would have to be enacted accordingly. He addressed the Ops Deputy and Naia Varkesson, captain of the Ruin Wake.

"Granted. Take an inventory of supplies, munitions and craft we can salvage, and clear it with the quartermasters and Chief Engineer for transfer after ferrying the crew. Though it might get interesting as half our docking bay is a field hospital at the moment." He trailed off, darting amber eyes scanning the room for his Flight Operations Officer, meeting his gaze at the far end of the bulkhead..

"Any idea what to expect?"

Lorem Thenandros straightened up from leaning upon the bulkhead and answered somberly, "They reported a single operable assault shuttle before we left Palaven, which they're now using as a medical transport to the Wake since their medical facilities are on a breached deck. We recovered seven escape pods that managed to maneuver their way to us during our last few hours above Palaven, including a couple from Alliance fighters. Speaking of which, we also took in three Alliance single-seaters whose carrier broke up somewhere over the north pole. Two of these fighters are stowed in the port bay, the other was jettisoned as it was too damaged to be of use."

Severen contemplated this for a moment, one long talon tracing thoughtfully along his chin plate. He voiced his thoughts.

"Those crews are going to have a hell of a fast ahead of them unless I'm mistaken about our lack of levo-based provisions aboard this ship. Nevertheless, keep those fighters armed and fueled if they have compatible systems. We don't know what might be waiting for us before we clear the Expanse. What do you make of this, Marthel?"

Falvo Marthel, an intimidatingly tall figure even by turian standards, adjusted his focal visor and spoke up in his peculiar Terminus drawl, practically aglow at the chance to speak with academic authority as the Ruin Wake's Medical Director.

"The humans will find themselves moderately incapacitated by fatigue as the week wears on, sir. However despite their discomfort, they are in no danger of starvation so long as their intake of fluids is maintained. This being said, of the six we have aboard, two were recovered bearing injuries from battle, and are both currently in the infirmary. One is in critical condition, and although we have done what we can… it's not looking good."

Severen heard a hint of a pained tone as Marthel sighed the last sentence, before he continued in a more pleased timbre,

"You'll be happy to hear however, that we've managed to clear another thirty crew for full duty since we took those hits to the ventral battery the other day. And now that we're out of the varren's den, perhaps the crew can start returning to crepuscular duty shifts, and start getting some much needed shut-eye. Including you sir, respectfully."

The Commodore permitted himself to crack a weary grin at the suggestion.

"Well I'm not normally one to argue with the doctor's orders, but we have a lot of work to do before we think about stepping down the operational tempo. But you're right, with all the extra hands on deck it would be a waste to allow freeloading. We'll put them to good use, including the humans. On that note,"

Severen glanced down at his omni-tool, digits dancing for a moment before looking up and crossing his arms.

"Since general quarters will soon be filled to capacity by our esteemed colleagues aboard the Iconoclast, I've started a provisional roster for housing our Alliance guests, as I am sure I can find sufficient volunteers in this room to arrange accommodation. Just pick a name from the list if you're willing."

Glancing down at their respective wrist-mounted comm devices, the reactions among the section officers were mixed. A couple shrugged and motioned their acceptance, while others appeared noncommittal, and a few maneuvered around the issue.

A logistics officer shook his head. "My bunk's too far from the docking bay. Tactical disadvantage."

"Can't have them near hydraulics in engineering. Too much uh… infrasound. I hear it's bad for them," said a Systems Chief

"I don't want to wake up to growling stomachs," mumbled another.

"That's not nice!" chirped an admonishing Captain from somewhere in the back.

Among the varied reactions the Commodore observed at his solicitation to house the aliens, his attention came to focus on that of his Fleet Intelligence Liaison, a middle-aged Lieutenant Commander by the name of Chertyl Korvaris, who stood transfixed, simply gazing into her tool's display as if lost in thought, one talon hovering idly over the holographic keys. Her cheek plates seemed drained of blood, and her short mandibles twitched involuntarily. It felt wrong to stare, but Severen caught himself marveling perversely at this odd feature of her visage. A childhood disease had eroded one of her mandibles which was now filed to a point and crowned in a copper alloy. He felt a pang of empathy for her, as these crowns, while rare, were most often seen on those who'd been raised on the most remote and destitute colonies, a notion corroborated by the pair of white bands crossing her red-tinted face plates upon the crest and beneath her eyes- the mark of Quosaitus, a colony known primarily for rare metal excavation and the stewardship of the Hierarchy's infamous prison asteroids. Even without these markings emphasizing her reaction, Chertyl would look as if she'd seen a spirit.

"Something wrong, Korvaris?" The commodore inquired, bringing her stunned gaze to his. To her credit, she recovered her bearing quickly.

"No sir. Nothing wrong."

He noted her finger still floating above her omni-tool display.

"Are you in or not?"

She glanced back down, finding a name and acknowledging her acceptance before nodding at the Commodore.

"I had hoped so. If I recall correctly you were commemorated at a Fleet awards ceremony not too long ago for facilitating one of our first joint exercises with the Alliance. You seemed quite adept as a counterintelligence advisor to our human allies of the Extrasolar Naval Command or whatever they were going by in those days."

He didn't mention her face being the reason he remembered that particular pinning ceremony. Thankfully, the comment seemed to put her at ease. Warming to his words, she nevertheless deflected his praise in typical turian fashion with a subdued smile and a downward glance.

"Just doing my job, sir."

The briefing adjourned a half hour later, and the following seven hours of Chertyl's shift were spent supervising a maintenance team tracing electrical faults in the aft sensor array. As the day's work dwindled, she dismissed the team early. They had done their job adequately to be sure, but Chertyl's thoughts were clouded and anxious, and she needed to address a nagging thought that had perturbed her since signing off on taking in one of the Alliance pilots. Severen hadn't been off the mark in presuming that she was experienced in dealing with the human military, and as an officer of Fleet Intelligence, he wouldn't be wrong to assume that she would be more knowledgeable than most regarding their habits and customs, particularly as they pertained to naval affairs.

But what the Commodore couldn't know was where she had gleaned much of this expertise, because unlike most of her peers aboard the Ruin Wake, Chertyl was old enough that she had begun her service in the fleet at a time when humans were still considered the enemy. She did not look fondly upon the early years of her career, though she was grateful it eventually allowed her to find assignments advising the human fleet, and even find a few friends in the Alliance. But the sight of a particular name on that roster gave her a sinking feeling that she was not done answering for the sins of her past- sins locked so deeply for so long that even the Commodore wouldn't have the clearance to know. But the name of someone with a key, she knew, might well belong to one of those pilots in the med bay.