Chapter 02

Rasa

Rasa crossed to the large, circular island in the centre of the CIC, and leaned on the lipped edge. It's surface was semi-transparent with a grid pattern, and currently projected their course and ETA alongside the usual galaxy map hologram. She stared into it, running through all the potential places to hide in her head while they gathered enough strength to ward Cerberus off for good. No doubt the Illusive Man was starkly aware of their predicament, and hellbent on stopping them before that happened. But where could they go? Any built-up area would be crawling with spies, and they already knew about every abandoned station, outpost, mining facility she'd visited during her tenure. Then there was the added caveat of finding a suitable place to hide their emancipated cruiser as well.

Try as she might, her focus refused to narrow in on the task at hand. She clenched the lip of the island. Cerberus was going to pay for almost sinking her venture on the verge of finally blooming. The Illusive Man had turned away from everything that Cerberus stood for. He'd allowed alien influence to seep into his organisation by being weak willed enough to get himself indoctrinated, then had the audacity to assign aliens to the crew of the SR-2. She wouldn't allow that to happen. She'd continue Cerberus' true goal of a Humanity first galaxy—the way it should be.

"Rasa?" Commander Kimiko Montez came up to stand beside her, hands clasped behind her back. She was one of the few clad in a full uniform. "The damage reports have been collated, and it's not looking good: we've got a handful of hull breaches, shorted out systems all over the ship, and are running severely low on munitions. Quite frankly, it's a miracle we were able to make the jump to FTL at all."

Rasa scanned the scrolling text hovering in front of her; they were headed to Enoch where they could plot a Mass Relay course to a different cluster altogether. That gave her some time before she'd have to pull the trigger on a definitive decision on where to go next. She needed that time, to clear her head if nothing else. "Can we get through repairs on our own?" she asked, waving the destination tab off to the side.

"Not if we want to return to full operational status," Montez replied. "Some of the materials needed aren't available in the ships stores, and some of the structural damage needs a longer term treatment plan."

"Fuck." She gritted her teeth, and forced herself to breathe. "Where the fuck do we go then? How many alien dockyards out in the Terminus are going to deal with Cerberus of all people? And any with a Human presence will undoubtedly set off warning bells in the Illusive Man's fancy office."

"For as much effort as he puts into it, the Illusive Man's not omniscient. I think the first place to start would be overhauling the ship: changing the livery, authorisation protocols, our uniforms, and distinguishing ourselves fully from Cerberus. That way we could return to the Terminus Systems and trade freely."

"Any suggest…" Rasa trailed off as her eyes landed on the one place no-one would think to look for them, and the one place she despised above all. She tapped the Arcturus Stream and it zoomed in, then the system of the same name, then again on Themis, then finally on a small, lifeless mining facility in orbit. "There; that's where we hide."

Montez's professional composure cracked for a microsecond. "You can't be serious?"

"Why not? We can find an asteroid big enough to hide the Alexander in, and use the old mining facility as a staging area, so no-one can follow us back to the ship. It'll also have all the machinery necessary to harvest minerals from the belt to use for repairs."

"And how do you propose to hide all this from the sensor nets and patrol craft?"

"The station comes readymade: it shut down a few years after the completion of Arcturus Station, and subsequently became infested with homeless, junkies, outcasts—anyone the almighty Systems Alliance turned their back on. It's always got activity, and a heat and radiation signature because of it, so there won't be any change from usual if we don't push our luck." She turned to give the Alexander's captain a sly smirk. "That's where you come in."

"I'm supremely flattered by your faith in my abilities," she replied curtly, "but I'm not capable of performing miracles."

"Luckily for you, you've got a lot of time to learn."

Montez gave her an openly insubordinate glare—something she could get away with now that they technically weren't part of any formal chain of command. "If—if—it's at all possible to do what you propose, I'll put together a plan and present it to you by the time we get to the Exodus Cluster," she told her. "I will put my all into it, and leverage my experience to make this work, but you have to promise that you'll accept my word if I tell you it can't be done."

Rasa grabbed the holographic galaxy, and pressed it down into the island, deactivating it. "I'll agree to those terms; I trust you."

Montez nodded, then about faced and went over to one of the many operations stations. Rasa returned to the elevator, setting it to descend to the crew deck. Their immediate future was settled, for now, and Shepard would likely be too tired to deal with anymore revelations about her new life, although they would have to discuss it eventually.

The car stopped a deck short, and the doors slid apart to permit former "problematic" Alliance Marine Corp Major and current leader of her vanguard, Alexei Volyov, entry. "Ah, Rasa, just who I was looking for!" He stood in the doorway with a foot preventing it from closing on him. "When are we going after those cunts who hit us back there? Those insects jumped on us like pussies, and I'm itching for payback!"

"Simmer down, Volyov." Rasa's reply was stern, matter-of-fact; the only tone capable of getting through to someone like the disgraced Major. "Get your team patched up first, and focus on recovery. We've got some logistical matters to work out before we can consider striking back."

"We're itching for action, ma'am! No-one was happy being caught in that shitshow with their pants round their ankles."

"I understand your frustration, but you're going to have to settle for excising it on the punching bag for now."

He let out a primal groan. "Sooner or later, heads are gonna have to go pop, and there ain't gonna be no stoppin' us!"

Rasa rose up like a great bear, making up for her lesser height with commanding presence. "You will not lay a single hair out of place on anyone's head until I give the order," she snapped. "Lest you want your final memory to be of the Alexander spinning away from you after I flush you out an airlock. Do you get me, soldier?"

He shrunk away like a wolf ceding to the alpha. "Yes, ma'am."

"Get your team some rack time and a meal."

"Yes, ma'am."

Rasa reached out and pressed the door close button, not so subtly hinting that Volyov should move. The elevator finished its journey.

Rasa's cabin was as sparse as Shepard's despite the longer tenancy of its occupant, and that's just the way she liked it. Material possessions tied a person to a place, made them easier to track, and moving on short notice harder. No-one had ever given her anything; they just kept taking and taking until they couldn't take anymore, then discarded her. One of her earliest memories was of Brocktun using her in ways she'd long since blocked from her memory. Everyone was out only for themselves and, if she let them, wouldn't hesitate to fuck her over. Stabbing that despicable, miserable bastard was the first, and not the last, time she took control of her own life. Not long after, she met Maya Brooks.

Rasa stripped off, part of the tension falling away with her armour, skinsuit, and underwear. She stared out at the red shifting stars as they fell away from the hyper accelerated spaceframe. The new organisation she was building would go above and beyond the poultry vision of Cerberus to become the true beacon of hope for Humanity. Centred on altruism and philanthropy, they wouldn't be some mere vanity project. She stretched off and groaned. So much had gone wrong, so many decisions made without proper consideration. Those had to be rectified first; grand visions for the future could come later.

Rasa had barely gotten two hours sleep when she gave up and decided her time would be better served behind her desk working their immediate problem. Commander Montez was, by far, the superior tactician, having served in the Alliance for many years before jumping ship to Cerberus, but there was nothing wrong with taking a crack at it herself.

She didn't get very far. The complex sensor grid put in place to protect the system housing the Systems Alliance parliament, Arcturus Station, appeared air tight from every angle she went at it. Any holes, be they natural or artificial, were filled by patrolling squadrons of fighters that could call in a frigate, or worse, at moment's notice. Orbital defence platforms dotted the area immediately around the station, which would be an issue due to the orbital paths of the station and Themis passing by at the time of the Alexander's arrival. No matter how many simulations she ran, or factors she tweaked, it always ended with them being driven off or destroyed.

Rasa worked straight through until mid-morning, and only looked up from her laptop when the redshift outside dissipated to normal space again. She shut it down, and crossed to her wardrobe, reaching in for a freshly laundered set of Cerberus fatigues—and stopped short. She no longer held allegiance to that insignia; designing new uniforms was just another item for the list. She instead went with a plane navy blue set of light armour, somewhat resembling leather trousers with high heeled boots and a form-fitting jacket that stopped mid-thigh. Whoever designed it had clearly never been near a battlefield.

Rasa stepped out onto the CIC to find Alpha shift hard at work and Montez standing beside the island, hands clasped behind her stick-straight back, staring up at the sensor readout of the star system Enoch in the Rosetta Nebula. A small collection of red diamonds were clustered near the Mass Relay. That explained the shift to battle lighting and the general quarters alert that had gone out during the elevator ride.

Rasa slid in beside her. "Status?"

"Better than yesterday," she reported, "but not good enough to take on that small armada orbiting the Relay."

"Do we know for sure they're Cerberus?"

"They're pegged Alliance, but that could be a false IFFs."

"And if it's not?"

"We have an Alliance fleet in front of us, and a Cerberus fleet behind us; you do the maths."

"Get long range optical telescopes on them, and let's read the markings on their hull."

Montez passed the order on to the XO, who parroted it to the ensign in charge of the sensor station. "Repositioning optical telescopes," came the affirmative.

A second later, a series of grainy images popped up above the island showing two cruisers, a frigate, and several squadrons of fighters sporting Cerberus decals in a holding pattern close enough to the Relay to stop the Alexander's passage, but far enough away to not disrupt regular system traffic.

"The one thing I'm looking forward to in Alliance space is Cerberus not being able to park fleets wherever they damn well please," Rasa remarked. "What the hell is that old fool thinking? Such a huge militarisation is bound to draw far too much attention.."

"We've no chance against a force of that strength," Montez said bluntly. "Destruction is an unavoidable guarantee if we're still here when the pursuing fleet arrives."

"Suggestions?"

"Retreat."

"Nope; not happening. You said it yourself: if we don't get out of here now, our destruction is assured."

"I didn't sign up for this to get myself and my crew killed."

"You signed up because you believed in the cause, and that cause is worth fighting for—even if our previous employers have forgotten that."

"My crew is what matters right now; the cause can come later."

Rasa's jaw tightened. Pathetic weaklings. Their overreliance on others would be their downfall. She sighed. "Retreat isn't an option, so we're going to have to find a way through this with minimal casualties."

Montez locked eyes with her, studying the former operative, then turned to face the display. "In addition to the obvious numbers disadvantage, we'll be unable to bring our full power to bear if we're trying to jump," she said. "Our fighters will have to remain docked, and whatever energy reserves we have will be directed to the engines instead of weapons."

"Where does that leave us?"

"I can give you Javelins and the GARDIAN or the Main Gun, but not both."

Rasa ran the numbers as best she could in her head. From this far out, slugs fired from the ships Mass Accelerator cannon were likely to be detected and intercepted long before getting anywhere close to effective range, and unlike the Alexander, the ships waiting for them at the Mass Relay had full operational capability. They could take all the long range hits and still pose an effective fighting force. Charging into a broadside engagement would see the Alexander overwhelmed in minutes—especially in their current state.

The only bright side to their predicament was the knowledge that the Mass Relay presented true safety. Cerberus had ramped up production on a massive war fleet, but the collective number of ships involved in their current engagement were the only ones so far put into service.

The ships XO, Mirko Shinagawa, came upon Montez and whispered something to her, and she in turn told Rasa, "the pursuing fleet has dropped out of FTL, but it appears to be comprised only of the frigates."

Good news. "Seems you did some real damage after all," she said, "but that still has us outnumbered."

"It does, however, open up a possibility of evening the odds." She took hold of the holographic map, and twisted it to show only the Alexander and two recent arrivals. "Both frigates are far closer to us than anything else in the system, and I'm confident of our ability to go toe-to-toe with them and succeed."

"And?"

"Cerberus's usual area of recruitment was always ex-marines, -black ops, -N7 operatives, scientists, engineers, et cetera, so the organisation is severely lacking in naval expertise with myself and Lieutenant Shinagawa being two of the few with real-world experience." She paused to wrack her brain. "Commander Simenon and Lieutenant M'Benga are the other two that spring to mind as having the skill to effectively put up any resistance. Simenon is currently nursing his wounds back at Ploitari, and M'Benga is in command of the cruiser, the Ozymandias, stationed at the Relay."

"You're hoping to cause a panic throughout the green crews by going after those two frigates, and draw that fleet into smaller, manageable chunks."

"Precisely."

"I defer to your judgement."

Montez nodded, then turned back to Shinagawa and let loose a cacophony of orders that echoed two or three times as they were passed out, confirmed, re-confirmed. A fairly sedate, mundane scene burst forth like a party popper with life and activity.

Rasa wasn't above admitting to fear, at least to herself, and that's very much what lingered in her mind as the engagement drew closer. She was one of those specialists who'd never seen a day of ship combat in her life, and had only ever set foot on a battleship a handful of times before enlisting the Alexander to her cause. Her mind drew on what she did know about extra-terrestrial engagements, and came up with scenes from movies and shows she'd seen over the years: images of twisted wreckage and tiny silhouettes floating against spectacular visas. Footage from the devastation wrought by the Battle of the Citadel stalked her mind. She again clenched the lip of the island.

"Approaching engagement range," the master gunner reported. "Weapons Control reports Javelins loaded, GARDIAN system functioning at maximum."

"The two frigates have split up," the sensor operator added. "The Kiritimati is coming at us from starboard two five mark six four, and the Odysseus larboard two eight four mark nine six."

"Rotating to larboard four-five degrees," said the helm officer.

"Release weapon safeties," Montez ordered. "Seek targets and fire at will."

Shinagawa passed it on, and the master gunner came back with, "weapon safeties released, firing at will."

Nothing happened. Rasa didn't know what she expected; some sign that they'd just unleashed a volley of death, but there was barely a change in the usual underlying hum of the cruisers natural vibrations. The return volley was very much felt: a series of dull thuds rippled along the hull followed by a sharp jolt in the deck. A tab appeared above the island, out of the way of the tactical readout, detailing each hit, where it had hit, and what systems had been damaged by that hit.

"Two hits," the master gunner reported, "both on the Kiritimati, and both dealing major wounds. They're still operational, but it looks like their engines have been damaged and they're spinning off uncontrollably."

Montez zoomed out the tactical readout to encompass their engagement and the fleet orbiting the Relay, watching for a crack. Nothing yet. The CIC jolted again; more damage. A second tab appeared cataloguing reported injuries.

"The Odysseus has been disabled; they slipped into our GARDIAN range and were peppered with railgun rounds, allowing our entire volley of Javelins to get through."

Almost before the master gunner finished his report, two of the diamonds broke formation and sped away from the Mass Relay: a cruiser, the Leonidas, and a frigate, the Caesar. They'd kicked into full burn and were closing rapidly on the Alexander. The difference in engine output capabilities soon saw the Caesar pulling out in front.

"Helm, all power to engines; set a course for the Mass Relay," Montez barked. "Emergency thrust."

Rasa felt herself tugged aft as the sudden burst of immense thrust saw the mass effect fields around the ship struggle for a moment to compensate for the swelling weight of gee-forces straining against them.

The Alexander blew past the Caesar and suffered no hits, then powered on towards the Leonidas and suffered a couple of nasty hits that doubled the length of the casualty list and tripled the damage list. Chatting in the CIC got lively as a dozen voices fired off orders and updates to each other.

The tactical display narrowed and narrowed and narrowed as the Alexander and the Mass Relay closed on each other. The final remaining enemy ship, the cruiser Ozymandias, shifted position to face them head-on, and it didn't take a naval veteran to know they were gearing up to let loose their Main Gun, and with the Alexander's defences down in favour of speed, a well targeted shot could sink them.

Rasa's breath stuck in her throat. Everything she'd work for, fought for, bled for could go up in smoke before her eyes. Her life had reached an end. She was no stranger to the threat of death, but she'd gotten used to having some say in whether it would come to pass. Helplessness wasn't a sensation she much cared for, and she clenched her eyes shut and held on as if dangling over a gorge. Sounded faded away until all that remained echoing drum of her heart. The deck shook under her feet.

All the universe felt as if it was tearing itself apart.

A hand squeezed her shoulder. Rasa opened her eyes. All was calm and, save for a couple of blown out panels, no-one would've guessed a battle had just taken place. She looked over to Montez, put on a brave face, and straightened.

"We made it to the Relay," she said.

The captain nodded.

Rasa breathed; her world opened up again. "How bad were we hit?"

"That final exchange with the Ozymandias was rough; we narrowly missed a hit by their Main Gun, but took a lot of damage on the broadside."

"We're alive, and that's entirely thanks to you."

"Much appreciated."

"How are the engines?"

"We can make a straight shot to Arcturus, if that's what you're asking?"

"Good." Rasa turned towards the elevator, feeling a twitch in her shoulders. "Keep working that problem, and do your best to patch up as much as you can."

"I'll let you know if anything changes," Montez said.

"Thanks."

The doors closed behind her. In the solitude of the enclosed car, Rasa allowed herself to come to pieces like a delicate China vase with one too many chips. Icy fear invaded through the tips of her fingers and toes, and advanced towards her core. It was all she could do to hold it all in when the crew was watching. She hit the emergency stop and slumped back against the wall, hugged her knees to her chest and buried her face in them. Death had long since stopped phasing her, but helplessness was another beast altogether, and she didn't much like trusting her fate to the protection of others.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who gave the first chapter a shot. This is where the real story begins, and you get to see me as a writer. The first chapter was a fun play on the opening of Mass Effect 2, but now my own story telling has taken over. I hope you enjoyed it.