Mass Effect is the property of Bioware. 20th Century Fox owns the Alien/Predator franchise.
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USM Dagger, Outer system, near Relay 288
While Second Fleet made its way from system to system, discharging their drive cores repeatedly in order to avoid being caught by the enemy without the option of breaking away, the frigates had raced ahead to the system containing the relay. There they had come out of FTL far outside the system to avoid detection and then crept inward under minimum power to launch their reconnaissance drones. Now that precaution was paying off. The presence of an alien fleet near the relay was not a surprise. Its composition was.
"What the...?"
"These are the latest images, ma'am."
Commander Farnsworth closed her eyes and prayed silently for patience. "I know that, ensign. That is not the point. These numbers, have they been checked?"
"Yes, ma'am. We have independent observations from three different drones."
"And we' re absolutely sure that ship is Eezo-powered. No tachyon shunt drive?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Vey well, dismissed."
As the ensign left the compartment, Farnsworth looked again at the data. The alien ships looked weird, wrong somehow. They had neither the blunt functionality of human ships nor the sharp lines and angles that had been observed on turian ships. Instead, most of the vessels holding position on the mass relay seemed smooth, curved, as though they had been designed to operate under water, rather than in space. But that was not all. The ship at the centre of the alien formation was not the biggest spaceship she had ever seen. An FTL hauler with a heavy load attached could be considerably bigger. It was, however, by far the biggest warship she had ever encountered. Longer than any fleet carrier and estimated at approximately four times a carrier's mass, it had smooth lines even where it's weapon systems had been worked into the hull.
The purpose of the ship was difficult to guess. As a ship increased in size, the size of its element zero core increased exponentially with the mass. For a ship this size that meant that the drive system would take up a significant fraction of the available internal space. That was the reason humanity had never build bigger carriers. Aside from the enormous costs, the loss of internal volume to the drive made them increasingly inefficient. Tachyon shunts were the way to go when you wanted a bigger ship, but their low top speed limited their military usefulness. Apparently, no-one had seen fit to tell the aliens. Then again, they seemed to favour guns over fighter wings, and for a ship that served purely as a gun platform internal space was far less valuable than for a carrier.
Now there is an ugly thought! A mass accelerator that size would pack one hell of a punch. Time to get out of here and let the admiral know what we found.
-o-o-o-
Presidium, the Citadel
"This is UNACCEPTABLE!"
Councillor Sparatus was careful to keep his facial expressions under control. He had not looked forward to making this particular call, even though he knew it was necessary, but now that the time had come he found it quite amusing to see his former rival explode with rage.
"Unacceptable, Primarch? In what sense? The Citadel Council is simply doing its duty: to promote peace and stability throughout the galaxy."
"You have no right to interfere. This is the Hierarchy's concern and we will deal with it."
Sparatus smirked. "Is that so? And what about the cost, Primarch? We have already lost two dreadnoughts, three if Force of Justice cannot be fully repaired. How many are we going to throw away in pursuit of, yes, of what exactly? Revenge?"
"We can build new dreadnoughts. The yards are ready to start at a moment's notice."
That was true, as Sparatus knew very well. It was one of the -many- unintended consequences of the Treaty of Farixen. Curtailing the maximum number of dreadnoughts restricted the offensive capabilities of all races and prevented the start of an arms race. But one of the problems was that it meant that the shipyards capable of producing those dreadnoughts had very little to do once a species had built its allotted number of ships. Because dreadnoughts were, by far, the largest ships in space, yards that size were not required to build anything else. That left the government with an unpalatable choice. They could either stand down the yards completely, and effectively lose the ability to build new ships in a hurry if required; or they had to pay for the upkeep of the yards, and their workforce, even though they weren't doing anything useful. The Hierarchy, always mindful of their status as the premier military force in Citadel Space, had chosen the latter option and often used building slips designed for dreadnoughts to build their cruisers. It was inefficient and had contributed to the Hierarchy's precarious economic situation, but at least it meant that losses could be replaced quickly. Still...
"And who is going to pay for them, Primarch? I can tell you right now that neither the salarians nor the asari will contribute a single credit. As far as they are concerned the threat can be handled diplomatically, which is what the council is doing even as we speak. The Hierarchy is not all that popular these days, in case you hadn't noticed, and if we interfere in ongoing negotiations, well, I don't think we'll have many allies left. We can try to fight on our own, of course, and we might win, but I fear to contemplate what will be left of the Hierarchy by the time the war is over."
With some effort, Sparatus managed to moderate his tone to sound more conciliatory. While it might be amusing to drive the Primnarch to drink and have him die of liver failure, the Hierarchy had enough trouble already.
"Look, I understand why you approved of general Arterius plan. If it had succeeded it would have solved a lot of problems. But it failed and it's time to put an end to this war, the sooner the better, and it seems that diplomacy is the best route to achieve that."
"And what will be the cost of that, councillor?" the Primarch snarled. "We will look like fools! Worse, we'll look like weaklings."
"Perhaps," Sparatus conceded. "But what is the alternative? If we continue fighting and win, we'll be severely weakened and we'll look like war-mongers. We'll have no friends left and plenty of enemies, ready to pounce. And if we fight and lose... No, this war has to end, and it has to end now. Better to concede one mistake than to make another. Our defeat can be explained away. After all, it is not as though we committed the full might of the Hierarchy to this war. The rest can be blamed on individuals. One general Arterius comes to mind. After all, this war was his idea."
"And what about the future of the Hierarchy, Sparatus? How will we maintain our position as the protectors of Citadel space, if we sue for peace the moment things get tough?"
He is listening, Sparatus thought. Careful to hide any sign of triumph.
"The Hierarchy is not suing for peace, Primarch, the Citadel Council is. After all, that is the reason the Council exists in the first place."
"And so the Council gets the credit for making peace if it succeeds. Very well, Sparatus. You win. For the moment. I will wait for the results before I send ships through the relay. But remember: All the fame, all the blame. If the negotiations fail, the Council will have to answer for the consequences."
Without further notice, the Primarch broke the connection. Sparatus slumped forward, more relieved than he wanted to admit, even to himself. He'd completed his task successfully. Now it was up to the asari.
-o-o-o-
Second Fleet, Outer system, near Relay 288
In a single, blinding flash of light, five fleet carriers and their escorts came out of FTL in the outer reaches of the system. Within moments the ships started manoeuvring, moving into their designated positions. Aboard her flagship, admiral Drescher looked on with approval as the fleet shook itself out into formation. There had been little time to absorb the lessons that had been learned during the last engagement, but Second Fleet had done the best it could. With plenty of room to manoeuvre, there would be no need to close with the unknown aliens. Even so, Drescher had left nothing to chance. Each of her carriers would have a permanent escort of two rapid deployment vessels for close range protection. Her sixteen destroyers, employed in four groups would move ahead to act as outer area defence with the frigates deployed in a loose formation between them, ready to redeploy wherever they were needed. It was a flexible formation, but a complicated one, and Second Fleet had practised diligently during their voyage to be abe to put it into practice.
Hopefully, it wouldn't be needed and her fighter wings would be able to neutralize the enemy, but against unknown ships it wouldn't pay to take any chances. Especially, when one of those ships was the biggest warship anyone had ever seen.
"All ships, this is Drescher. We've just entered the enemy's front yard. Time to walk up to the door and knock. Advance toward the relay and prepare to deploy fighters"
-o-o-o-
Destiny Ascension
"Ma'am, they are here."
It didn't come as a great surprise. The STG vessel that had accompanied the turian fleet had passed through the relay on its return and warned her of the approach of the human fleet as well as its composition. Besides, her ships had picked up faint traces of reconnaissance drones, clearly operating under stealth, several days ago, indicating that the humans were scouting the system from a safe distance. Still, expecting something was not the same as watching it happen. Several of the observation platforms that she had seeded throughout the system were close enough to provide a detailed picture of the approaching fleet. As in earlier engagements, the humans had chosen to distribute their ships over multiple formations. There were five groups, each centered on one of the massive fighter-carriers, with independent groups of cruisers ranging ahead of them.
As the observation platforms gathered more and more data the Destiny Ascension received the first visual images. The human ships were as ugly as expected, crude, box-like vessels with no thought given to aesthetics. But the images showed something else as well. Many of the ships carried crude patches on their hulls, where repairs had been made in haste. The scars were a testimony to the history of the approaching fleet and an ugly reminder that of the two forces currently in-system, there was only one that was truly made up of veterans, who had already shown what they were capable of. It made them look like a pack of Varren: scarred, ugly, and deadly.
"Signal all units. Remind them, that NO-ONE makes a move without my permission. We have only one chance to get this right, so let's make sure we get it right. Now, open a channel to the human fleet and pray to the Goddess that they're willing to listen."
-o-o-o-
USM Yamato
"Admiral, we're receiving an incoming transmission, audio only."
"Really?" Admiral Drescher shrugged. "Deploy the first strike wave. Have them keep station on their carriers until further notice."
"But ma'am, if they are willing to talk-"
"Then they'll have to wait until I'm ready, commander Singh. For all we know, they may be playing for time, or trying to distract us while they get a second force to move in under stealth. I will not be caught off-guard, just because E.T. is babbling at me. Now, do as I say."
-o-o-o-
Outer system
The presence of a fleet defending the mass relay did not come as a surprise to the hunters. It's composition was.
"Asari? Salarian? Where is the turian fleet? They would not abandon their position or relinquish their status as the Citadel's warriors."
"Unknown, leader. Wait! Intelligence update coming through the relay."
It was a calculated risk with asari and salarian ships so close to the relay, but yautja technology would beat that of even the salarians any day and their understanding of the relays and their many functions was far greater. Besides, with two fleets deploying for combat the system was filled with electronic noise. A single, ultra short transmission would almost certainly go unnoticed.
"Three messages. The Calypso mission was a success. A Kainde Amedha queen has been captured."
"Good. And the second?"
"A report from our agent in Citadel Space. She informs us that the Council has made a move. They have dispatched their Citadel Defense fleet to stop the humans from entering Citadel Space and open negotiations. They seek to end the war before the turians can recover."
The hunt leader snorted softly. "That could become a problem. Perhaps we should make sure that these negotiations fail."
"No, leader. The third message comes directly from the Adjudicators. We are to undertake no action, other than to observe, nothing that can alert either the humans or the Citadel races to our existence. They also wish to know if our mission was successful."
The unblooded sounded regretful. Although the mission had been entertaining, there had been a distinct lack of hunting opportunities. When they had found the lone serpent in the human vault he had briefly hoped to gain his mark, but circumstances had dictated differently and slicing off the arm of some unknown turian was not a deed worth mentioning.
"Very well. Upload a single transmission: 'Product recovered. Instructions understood. Will continue to observe.'"
The leader made a small gesture. "Who knows, between asari duplicity and human intransigence, they may fail even without our interference."
-o-o-o-
Destiny Ascension
"I repeat, this is matriarch Lidanya aboard the Destiny Ascension. I am here on behalf of the Citadel Council to open negotiations. Do you understand me? Please respond."
"Ma'am, they are launching fighters."
Lidanya closed her eyes for a moment. It seemed like her nightmare was about to come true.
"How many?"
"Two-, Two hundred and rising ma'am."
"Goddess help us all. Keep broadcasting my message." Come on you fools, don't do this. We won't get another chance to make peace.
"Enemy fighter count holding steady at five hundred, ma'am."
Lidanya looked at the displays. By now there was a massive cloud of fighters around the human warships. She had studied the surviving turian sensor records. If the humans stuck to the same doctrine, at least a third of these would be armed with nuclear-tipped missiles. Two for each fighter. Moreover, if they had managed to replenish their fighter complements there would be at least another hundred fighters embarked. There was simply no way she could hope to stop them from getting into engagement range of her fleet. All her ships combined could barely put one-hundred-and-fifty fighters in space, not nearly enough. Point defence would thin out the missile salvos, but some would inevitably get through, and although the Destiny Ascension was the toughest warship in space, she wasn't invulnerable. Unlike earlier engagements with the turians, the humans had absolutely no reason to come within range of her weapons. They could keep the distance open indefinitely, sending in strike after strike until either Lidanya's fleet was gone, or they ran out of fighters. They could even leave the system if they felt like it, resupply, and then come back for another attack.
-o-o-o-
USM Yamato
"First strike fully deployed, ma'am. All units are ready to go on your command,"
Drescher was impressed. Less than ten minutes and each carrier had put a hundred fighters into space. That was nearly twice as fast as peacetime regulations required.
"Excellent. Now, let's hear what our new acquaintances have to say for themselves."
-o-o-o-
Destiny Ascension
"Receiving incoming message!"
"On screen!"
There was no visual signal, only a voice, distorted by the translation routines. "Hold for Second Fleet."
For a handful of seconds, that seemed like hours, nothing happened, then the signal changed, showing a heavily distorted image. It wavered as computer systems on both sides of the contact procedure tried to adjust simultaneously, then the image steadied and cleared up.
Lidanya had seen the records, but even so, it still came as a shock: Other than the pale, pink-whitish skin-tone the creature confronting her could have been an asari. She was dressed in a protective suit and helmet that covered the top of the head, hiding the one part where the two species were clearly distinct. Behind her, Lidanya could see what was clearly the command deck of a warship at battle stations.
"Second Fleet, admiral Drescher speaking. Whoever you are, you are between my force and its objective. I recommend that you leave."
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Regarding the Hierarchy's shipyards: The Washington and London navy treaties were a severe blow to the British military shipbuilding industry. They had to stop building ships to comply with the treaty, so they had to close the yards. By the time WW2 started they no longer had the capacity to build a lot of big ships quickly. Even worse, they lacked the skilled labor pool as people had moved to other jobs. The Hierarchy has chosen to keep the yards open, but that costs a fortune.
Apparuerit Diabolo et Loqui: I'm treating Alien 3 as canon, but not 4. In my version, during/after the events of 2 and 3 there were several xenomorph outbreaks thanks to corporations trying to study them (as seen in the video games). In the scandal that followed the military intervened. Figure about 10 years or so of unrest and the result was a relatively strong central government and the power of the corporations greatly reduced (This is actually the semi-cannon background story for the period between 3 and 4.) In my universe, 4 is never going to happen because long before that time they run into the turians and history changes. Ripley is dead, of course (she might have died of old age by now anyway). I don't intend to bring her back. Alien 4 messed that up enough as it is.