A/N: I finally have my internet connection back. Thank you, hurricane Sandy.

A sincere thank-you to my patient readers. Updates are now back on track.

Chapter 2

The shuttle swoops, dropping acceleration as it nears the larger ship. Kal fidgets in his seat, the uncomfortable almost-gravity making it impossible to sit still. He's alone on the shuttle, save for the invisible pilot guiding the FTL shuttle toward the Migrant fleet. Kal rubs his palms together, feeling them almost touch through the sensitive fabric of his suit. So much damn almost. He finds himself thinking back, longing to feel damp soil beneath his feet and the wind in his hair again. If anyone else knew what it's like, he thinks, gazing out the small window to the ship floating in the distance like a sterile fish tank. If they had felt what I've felt, they'd never want to go back. Hell, I don't want to. He knows the suit is a necessity, though; an un-suited Kal'reegar would raise some uncomfortable questions, which would most likely lead to even more uncomfortable medical procedures and examinations. There would be no telling when he would see James again.

The shuttle finally docks half an hour later, merging into the liveship's mass effect field with a stomach-turning lurch. Kal rises awkwardly, stretching his stiff arms in all their sudden weight, and makes for the airlock.

He is met inside the ship by two marines in blue-gray combat suits. "Sir," he says, hailing Kal almost before he has a chance to disembark. "Lance-corporal Rainar, sir. You're to come with us immediately for briefing."

Kal eyes the man in front of him. "'Sir?' Did I get promoted while I was gone?"

"Ah, yes sir," answers the marine, clearly surprised. "I thought you knew. You've been promoted to sergeant, sir."

Kal processes this. Something doesn't seem right, but he gives a curt nod to Rainar anyway. "Right. Lead the way then, lance-corporal." Might as well act like I know what's going on, he adds silently. Questions can come later.

He follows the two marines through a twisting series of corridors that wind through the liveship. He is hit by a strange mix of feelings as he once again walks through rooms and galleries filled with countless other quarians. It should feel like a homecoming, and in a way it is very good to be among his own people once more, but at the same time he feels removed from everyone else. Different. Something about it makes Kal feel strangely sorrowful, almost poetic. I've felt the open air on my face, walked under trees and smelled their needles. I've killed men with my teeth and claws, tasted their blood, he thinks absentmindedly as he trails after the marines through a garden full of almost-natural plant growth and almost-real streams of filtered water. He misses a step, suddenly realizing that he's thinking of the beast's body as his own. Claws! I don't have claws. Quarians don't have claws and fangs. He looks around the garden a last time before following Rainar down a narrow side passage. Maybe I'm not a quarian anymore. Not completely. If I can change into... something like that, does it ever go away completely?

His troubled thoughts are cut short as he and the Marines arrive at a locked door. The lance-corporal activates his omni-tool. "Lieutenant, it's lance-corporal Rainar. Sergeant Reegar is here for briefing." After a moment the door's lock turns green and it slides open with a pressurized hiss.

Kal steps inside after the two soldiers, looking warily around the room. It's an office, with a small but neat desk in one corner and another door set in the back wall. Kal lowers his guard when he sees the man behind the desk. He steps forward, a slight smile on his lips. "Commander Zarra!"

Zarra rises, stepping around his desk to shake Kal's hand. "Kal'Reegar. And it's first lieutenant now."

Kal shakes Zarra's hand, matching the lieutenant's firm grip. "Good to see someone up there recognizes good work, sir," he says.

Zarra laughs dryly. "Well, loosing my entire squad isn't what I'd call good work, but apparently the board sees it differently."

"The entire squad?" says Kal, taken aback. "But there were other survivors!" His mind goes guiltily to Lira.

Zarra nods to the Rainar and the other marine. "Dismissed." The two soldiers salute, then turn and stride out of the room. Zarra waits for the door to shut behind them, then he turns away from Kal, reaching his hands back to massage his shoulders. "Eight men and woman killed in action. Two dead from infection. Three transferred from active duty for injuries and infection. Thirteen less marines in total. Keelah, Kal, I didn't want this."

Kal stands quietly, letting the numbers wash over him. "You did your best, sir," he says after a few moments. "We all did. We did everything we could do."

Zarra turns angrily. "That's all we ever do, but it's not enough! Those men trusted me. They..." His anger fades as quickly as it came, and he looks down at the floor for a moment. He raises his eyes to Kal's again, his tone level. "Apologies, sergeant."

Kal's eyebrows raise behind his visor. "We've been through hell, Zarra. You don't have to call me by rank. If anyone's earned the right to vent a little, it's you. Uh, sir," he adds.

Zarra chuckles softly. "Same old Kal. Yes, you're probably wondering about the 'sergeant' thing, aren't you? Not exactly an expected promotion, I gather."

Kal shakes his head. "No sir. I thought I was going to be assigned to Tali'Zorah's squad on Haestrom."

"Well, yes, you originally were," says Zarra. "But then the shit hit the fan up at the admiralty board. She left while you were on leave. Admiralty has something else for you." He raises his omni-tool, talking as he taps in commands. "Our snoopers picked up signal activity from a planet in the Perseus Veil. Geth activity. Scans revealed a permanent base on the planet's surface before our probes were shot down."

"That's not too surprising," says Kal. "It's in the outer rim. Geth have always stuck to the outskirts of the galaxy."

"It's not a geth base, though," says Zarra. "Some of the components are certainly of geth origin, but overall the structure looks nothing like a geth building. It's also in the middle of a salarian city."

"Ah," says Kal.

Zarra nods grimly. "Yes. I don't have to tell you what a political nightmare this could be. If the geth are working with the salarians, our future doesn't look so good. Could be the beginnings of war, and you know the admirals are itching for a chance to attack the geth."

"So what's the fleet doing about it?" asks Kal.

"It's not war," replies Zarra. "Not yet, anyway. Admiralty is sending a covert team planet side to check it out, with a full platoon to back them up in case the worst comes to pass. We want this to stay as quiet as possible. The last thing we want to do is piss off the salarians."

"Could it just be salarian scientists working on geth tech?" asks Kal.

Zarra shakes his head. "The signals couldn't have come from inactive components. There are live geth down there, playing with the salarians. Our mission is to find out what game it is."

"Our mission?"

"That's right. I've got the platoon, and you're heading the recon team."

Kal nods. It makes sense. "Yes, sir," he says, straightening his back. "When do we leave?"

Zarra glances at his omni-tool. "In 500 hours. Hope you got a good night's sleep."

…

James wakes. He opens his eyes in the dark, lying perfectly still in his narrow bunk, listening to the hum of the drive core and the ticking of the air ducts. He stretches out a hand, brushing his fingers across the steel wall next to him, imagining them passing through the metal and across light-years of space. How could something so perfect last for such a short time, he wonders. One week of happiness, like a dream. And now I'm alone again, floating through space in a metal coffin hundreds of thousands of billions of miles away from anything.

Someone stirs in the bunk above him and James turns over, pulling the coarse wool blanket higher. I don't even have a home, he thinks, sorrow rising in the back of his throat. All I have is you, Kal. Don't forget me. He closes his eyes and presses his face into his thin pillow, biting his lip to stop the tears.