2177 CE

Vessel: Council Frigate Solas II.

Location: Altakiril, Thal system, The Shrike Abyssal, Terminus system.

Mission Detail: Altakiril, a frozen garden world on the edges of The Shrike Abyssal, recently went dark. All communications from the Turian colonists ceased five days prior to this order. However, two days prior, an unknown signal was received from the planet. It matched no known signal ever recorded, and has been flagged for investigation. You will lead your team to Altakiril and locate the source of the signal. To allow Council deniability, your findings will not be reported until the ship successfully returns. If signal source proves hostile, termination is authorized.

Crew detail:
-Ray Varell – 29, Human, Commander

-Lauren Idema – 28, Human, Research team lead and Professor.

-Phi Gelt – 22, Salarian, Research team

-Siala T'oris – 103, Asari, Research team.

-Nyra Serris Vas Arrydasha – 19, Quarian.

-Argas Simms – 30, human, Pilot

-Saulden Miris – 42, Turian, Spectre

-Dalk (Urdnot Clan) – 33, Krogan, Security detail.

Ray was laying on his back pitch darkness, thinking back over the orders he had memorised. They had been delivered in a black envelope, a mission that would never be recorded. Black orders, missions the council couldn't officially recognise. He shifted around a little, flat on his back in a cold metal box. The cryogenic pods he and his crew had been sleeping in opened hours ago. Thanks to a long running tradition aboard the Solas II of technical faults, his pod was still locked. He sighed, laying quietly and trying to get comfortable, a difficult task inside the cramped pod. Outside he could hear mumbling as the crew tried to attempted to fix the broken tank.

"Commander Varell? We're going to cut the tank open" A muffled voice called. "We'll get you outta there." There were footsteps and the sound of scraping metal from outside.

"Sure thing." Ray replied, seemingly calm. He'd been in worse situations, serving with the Alliance and council military, but couldn't deny the boredom. He'd had several hours of total darkness in a confined space with only the company of his thoughts.

Ray ran over the document again in his mind for what felt like the millionth time. He had red over the document and memorised the little black card with blue text he had received only days ago. It had all moved so quickly. He thought back over everything, everything he'd done. He was a human, born on Earth and raised in the dark underbelly of London. Even in Earth's golden age, poverty was in abundance. After running with street gangs for years, he finally enlisted to the Alliance military at the age of nineteen. And from there it had been a new life. He had seen combat across the Galaxy, fighting wherever the Alliance needed him. For years he blindly followed the commands of faceless Generals, light-years away, watching the battles rage from behind a closed door. He fought hard and fought well, devoting himself to the cause, the only cause he had ever known. Demonstrating combat prowess, rising the ranks until he became Commander Varell, Ray never thought he'd leave the military life. But then he met her. Ray smiled at the memory. Professor Lauren Idema, a top alliance scientist who had fallen for Ray after he personally saved her from Terminus slavers. He had carried her from the flames of a burning ship, sharing his oxygen and escaping the falling ship. She was set to leave the military after the event and convinced Ray there was more to life than the Alliance. Once again, his life changed, the two of them stepping away from the front lines. The galaxy was a big place after all, it wouldn't miss one soldier. So they left, leaving for Illium to start a life together, beginning again as husband and wife. Lauren continued her research on the ancient Protheans, and Ray had joined the security forces on Illium. It had been peaceful for a time, the Galaxy seemed to be enjoying an age of ease in the grand scheme of things. It was a good life. But like his military career before it, it had come to a sudden and unexpected end. Lauren's ex research team made contact, the crew of the council Frigate the Solas II. Claiming they were onto something big, they had contacted them with a proposal. They needed their best researcher and a commander for an armed ship. Things had moved quickly from there on out. Talk of new races, ancient alien technology and discoveries that could alter galactic history became common place, and the Citadel council quickly took interest. The research team was officially recognised, given funding, a ship and finally, orders. Ray joined with the Citadel Security force, working part time when he was not aboard the Solas. They travelled to dangerous worlds to unearth relics the council deemed important and for years, that was the life for the researchers of the Solas II. Then, three weeks ago, sitting at his desk in C-Sec headquarters, a black envelope was presented to him by a nervous and silent Salarian. And that was that. Several Mass Relay jumps got them close, but the ship was forced to drift the rest of the distance when its drive core burnt out. And yet, despite the black orders, the council couldn't resist sending a Spectre. Saulden Miris, the council's eyes and ears. He was a watchful, stern Turian that the council had sent to oversee the operation. Spectres were the elite of the elite, able to authorise many operations personally and were often deployed as council representatives or elite combatants on high risk mission. It was unnerving to even have him on board. Since the Mass effect core had malfunctioned, the crew entered temporary cryogenic sleep until they reached Altakiril, the ship drifting forward.

And here he was now. Ray ran a hand through his stark white hair, then touched a hand to the thin scar on his cheek. He sighed loudly again, getting a little impatient. It was another few minutes before an orange spot appeared on the metal wall, slicing in a ring. The lid was ripped off, the brutish, frog-like alien face of Dalk staring angrily at Ray.

"You're welcome." He grunted, carrying the door away, laying it on a repair bench.

Dalk stood a clear foot over the already tall Ray, a Krogan warrior dressed in thick, black armour, back hunched and shoulders broad. He was a fighter through and through, Varell had never seen him without a weapon at his side. Despite this, Dalk was definitely softer than a lot of Krogans he had encountered. He would talk freely, kept his voice low and rarely lashed out without provocation. But he was still a Krogan, and that never showed more than in the heat of battle.

"Yeah, thanks." He stretched and yawned stepping out of the tank. As he did, a young, brown haired woman ran over and threw her arms around him, almost throwing him off balance.

"Whoa. Hey there." He smiled, hugging her back. She looked up, round face with big eyes, a look of concern on her face.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah of course I am." He nodded, stroking her cheek. She pecked his lips lightly, stepping back.

"Come on, we're almost there." She grinned, walking towards the cockpit. Ray smiled. Lauren, head researcher and his wife, the kindest and most intelligent woman he had ever met. There was a cough from behind him. He turned around, coming face to face with the Turian Spectre Saulden Miris.

"Commander." He said momentously. "I am disappointed at the condition of your ship. The loss of the Mass effect core is unacceptable. It will require extensive repair, committing resources that we require for this mission."

"I understand your concern, but don't lose sleep over it. The condition of the ship isn't important." He rubbed is face sleepily. The Spectre glared, mandibles flapping angrily.

"Listen to me, Varell." He spat. "This is a mission that could prove of great importance. Galactic security could be a factor here. For the record, I advised against the use of your crew. You are untrained and underprepared. Prove me wrong and make sure you don't fuck this up." He hissed, the left the room.

Ray mimicked Saulden angrily, walking over to his locker and flinging it open. Inside was a heavily modified and battle damaged suit of navy blue Alliance combat armour. He grinned. Inside was a long, sweeping coat, black leather with purple trim and stitching. He swung it around him, slipping it on. He fought without the clunky heavy armour he had donned with the Alliance. Ray was a powerful and accomplished biotic, although for years he had favoured weapons over his natural ability. He flexed his arms, spreading his fingers as they crackled with energy. He enjoyed the warmth it gave him, allowing his body to become wreathed in the blue glow of biotic powers. He expelled the blue flare, watching it dissipate into the air. Ray only relied on one weapon, and it was a tool he carried for style more than anything. He lifted up a slim, razor sharp, needle shaped grappling hook. It would extend razor sharp barbs from its sides on contact, locking into flesh and stone alike. It was as useful for traversal as it was for warfare. He clipped it onto his wrist, hiding it under his sleeve. Suddenly, there a slow, lazy clapping from behind him.

"That's cute." A silky voice drawled. Ray turned in time to see the Asari slink into the room. She was thin, tall, skin a pale blue, wearing a tight combat suit zipped down to largely expose her chest. It would have looked cheap and sleazy on a lot of women, but the confidence with which the Asari carried herself made it seem almost natural. She walked over to him, sliding her hands over his shoulders.

"I always had a thing for men who are taken. I like having things I'm told I can never take." She purred into his ear.

Varell laughed a little. "Uh huh, sure." He finished attaching the grapple to his wrist. "Nice try Siala, but sexy rouge doesn't suit you as much as you'd like to think."

She pouted and sighed. "No? Damn, I always fancied myself as the seductress."

"Yeah, keep dreaming. Just stick to angry. That's never let you down."

"Hey! I'm not angry!" She snapped.

He smiled and patted her head. "I'm not angry…?"

She groaned. "I'm not angry, commander."

"Good." He grinned childishly. "Report to the cockpit, I'll be over in a moment."

Siala shrugged and sulking away towards the cockpit. Ray checked himself over, then slammed the locker shut and walked over himself.

The crew was gathered in the large Cockpit of the ship. Argas Simms, the ship's pilot, a raggedy long haired man was seated at the helm, guiding the ship towards the planet. Behind him was Lauren and Siala, Saulden stood quietly to the side, Dalk near the door with Phi, a nervous Salarian and Nyra, an equally nervous and young Quarian stood together in the centre of the room, shifting around a little uneasily. They were the least experienced at shady missions like this, used to operating within regulations and the full co-operation of the Citadel on their side. This was all new to them.

"O-oh, Commander." Phi looked up. He was only in his twenties, but for a Salarian, that was middle aged. "We uh, we can see Altakiril, if you want to see it." He gestured to the panoramic window at the front of the ship. Hanging alone in the blackness of deep space, a blue and white could be seen, rapidly gaining size as the ship drew ever closer.

"Its just like the reports said." Argas chipped in. "Silent. No comms, no cries for help. No extranet signals, no civilian communications. Nothing. The entire planet…silent."

The commander frowned, watching the planet as it grew ever larger. Colony or not, entire planets didn't just go dark. And these were hardy Turian colonists, they would have found a way to make contact if it was possible. Something must have happened, something that had shut down the whole colony, and that could never be a good thing.

"I'm not picking up any hidden signals either." Nyra waved her orange omni tool around, scanning the broadcast relay. "No life signs, no heat signatures. It's…dead." She looked up, her face obscured by a purple visor. Quarians were a race forced from their home world, living aboard the great migrant fleet. They couldn't survive without a hazard suit and had to be extremely careful. He suit was white base colours with purple detailing on the hood and several plates of purple coloured armour across her body. She had always claimed to have painted it herself, but Ray couldn't work out how she could reach some parts if she couldn't take it off. But then again, like many young Quarians of her age, Nyra was something of a technical genius. It wasn't exactly beyond her.

She turned to Ray uneasily. "Keelah…Whatever did this is beyond us. Commander, this mission had trouble written all over it from the start, but now that we are here…we have to pull back."

"Negative, the mission is priority." Saulden stepped forward before Ray could speak.

"The mission?" Argas turned around angrily. "There is no fucking mission anymore, we can't land on a dead planet with a bugger Mass effect core. I'm turning back."

"I said, the mission is priority. As the highest ranking personal, you will obey and land this ship." Saulden snarled back.

The commander rubbed his forehead. "Shut it! Both of you!" He yelled.

"Argas has a point Commander." Phi chimed in at last. "We…we cant land there. It would be more than suicide. Landing without communications alone would be a fatal error…"

"Ray…we can't turn back." Lauren looked over to him "If there's something dangerous down there we need to put it down."

"Quiet! All of you!" He heled up his hand. "Just…lemmie think."

The crew backed down, Ray closing his eyes for a second. he bowed his head, thinking. Then.

"Land."

Argas sighed. "Yes commander."

He eased the ship into a descent trajectory, heading for Altakiril.

"I hope you know what you're doing commander…" Siala muttered to him. He shook his head.

"Not a clue. But we didn't come all this way to bug out now." He stepped over to Argas. "Be straight with me, this is gonna be a shitty landing isn't it?"

Argas nodded. "Suggest you all find something to strap yourselves into. There's ice sheet I can land us on, hardly a mile from the Turian colony. Shock absorbers should steady us but, it's still gonna hurt."

Ray nodded, turning to the crew.

"Alright. Listen up. With all planet side systems down, we can't even locate a landing strip, let alone safely land on one. We're going to set down on an ice shelf just outside the Turian mining Colony. That's supposedly where the unknown signal was received and our best hope of finding the colonists. When we touch down, you grab as much gear as you can carry and take it straight to the colony. We will set up a base of operations for research and living quarters when everyone is accounted for. Thermal suits are located in the hanger. Stick together and no one wanders out of visual range Omni tool communication at all times and keep weapons on hand. We have no idea what's down there. Everyone ready?"

They all got up at this, all loudly voicing their readiness before proceeding out of the cockpit to the harnesses located in the corridor connecting it to the rest of the ship. The strapped themselves in, placing their weapons in containers at their feet. An atmosphere of unease hung over all of them, but it was clear they were doing this whether they liked it or not. Ray patted Argas's shoulder before leaving himself, strapping into a harness. They sat silently, not making eye contact until Argas called out.

"Entering atmosphere, get ready."

There was a low rumbling as the Solas burned through the atmosphere, hurtling towards the planet, a ball of fire plummeting from the sky. The below atmosphere engines roared into life, steadying the ship as it entered a thick blizzard. Inside, it shook and groaned, threatening to fall apart.

"C'mon…c'mon girl…" Argas said through gritted teeth, watching the path through the sonar display.

"Hitting the ice shelf in three…two…one."

The ship screeched as the belly slid along the ice, groaning and rattling. It slid noisily along the ice, the outer hull ripping itself apart with the deafening sound of grinding metal. Sparks erupted from the hull, the nose of the ship crumpling as it thundered through the thick ice.

"Hold together damn you!" Argas yelled over the noise, gripping the controls. He slammed on the reverse thruster, exploding into life, bringing the ship to a shuddering halt.

"Fuck…yeah." He panted, shakily getting up from the pilots seat. The front window was cracked and shattered, the interior of the ship in disarray. From the corridor, the crew could be heard groaning painfully as they unclipped themselves.

"Nice…nice landing." Siala called out to Argas, staggering to her feet.

"I don't get what the problem is." Dalk grunted. He hadn't even strapped himself in, choosing instead to sit at the mess table.

"The problem is we aren't all seven hundred pound living tanks" Lauren groaned, dropping out of her harness. "But seriously, how are you still standing?"

"I still don't know what happened. Did we crash or something?"

Lauren shook her head. "We landed…sorta."

Ray stood up, swaying a little.

"Okay…" he clutched his head. "Look at it this way, we came out alive with the ship intact."

"Hull's fucked." Argas called out.

"Mostly intact, whatever."

"What now commander?" Nyra seemed to be as unaffected by it all as Dalk, standing straight and taking scans in her Omni tool. "It's minus thirty degrees out there, we won't last for very long."

"Atlas mech suits in the cargo hold. We have 8, so set one to auto pilot and have it follow us with more gear."

"Atlas?" Phi looked over at him, still strapped up.

"Big heavy looking mech suit, insulated and can carry a damn sight more than we can. Simple controls and enough head room for even the big guys among us." He shook his head, his vision swirling a little. "We need to move, if the hull's buggered we'll be freezing in here before too long."

The crew nodded collectively. Ray staggered over to the cargo bay doors.

"As of now, the operation has officially begun."