A/N: Alright then folks, this is my first foray into story writing in the past...two years. Too much time spent on things that just weren't my cup of tea. So here I am, back again...

I don't own Mass Effect, nor do I own Supreme Ruler 2020 (The Technology inspiration) those belong to their perspective creators.

Well, on with my tentative return...enjoy.

Prologue: Unidentified Craft

2066, UEAF Base Bentwaters, State of England

The holoscreen was flickering again. That erratic, semi static that made the projected image waver just enough to annoy someone who was trying to read and wake someone who was trying to sleep. Which the projector managed to accomplish spectacularly. Commander Wayneright looked up from his reading tablet and sighed lightly he rubbed his eyes and looked at the digital clock on the wall, coming up on three am local time, standing ready as members of the ground alert flight was never fun. You had to spend your time on base, in the ready room, in gear and ready to leap to and race out to your fighters sitting charged, loaded and ready to go. Not something that you liked to do, but of course, being fighter pilot made it necessary. Wayneright grumbled and stood, looking at the other pilots. He was thankful that at least he wasn't on strip alert status, they rotated that, and it was only four unlucky souls at a time that had to sit in the cockpits of their F-204 Coyote fighters…waiting for a scramble order. One beautiful thing of the military was the 'hurry up and wait' attitude that you never seemed to shake.

Wayneright walked across the room and to the exit airlock. Moving through the chamber he stepped out onto the field, standing on the tarmac and looking at the night sky high above. With a slight shiver he thumbed the climate control on his thigh and felt the flight armor warm slowly against his skin. He enjoyed English weather as much as the next man from New Mexico…which was to say not at all. Wayneright walked along slowly passing a pair of Air Police walking the field, wearing the full Force Warrior armor that was mandated due to the 'conflict' that had cropped up recently. 'Conflict' being the rather tame name for the Brazilian and allied armies streaming north trying to take the oil reserves resting beneath the State of Venezuela. United Earth forces were in another shooting war…one that looked slightly bigger than the campaign ten years ago to consolidate the shattered governments of Europe and Russia into the United Earth States, perhaps not as massive as the thirty year long war that was still raging between China and India that had turned Southeast Asia into little more than a death zone. But it was a war, and the UES had been in enough that they knew how be prepared.

As he walked along the Tarmac he looked at the black forms of Coyote fighters sitting in neat rows, their angular wings dark beneath their camoflage netting. Wayneright walked slowly up to his and rested his hand on the underarmor of the lethal Areospace fighter. He let his fingers brush against the exterior and he smiled, it was his…

His adoration of the craft was broken by the dull whine of the first element of the strip alert fighters scrambling. Two of them roared down the main runway, electrostatic drives leaving a blue white glare behind them as the two craft leapt into the darkened sky, followed by dual forms of the second pair. Without thinking, Wayneright grabbed the cockpit ladder and pulled himself up, noticing the buzz of an 'Alert Scramble' order through his ear com. He pulled up the helmet sitting over his right shoulder and pulled it onto his head as he slid into the form fitting command couch, the cockpit already lowering into place as the neural links clicked in to synch his thoughts with his fighter. The controls inside the cockpit, even the display view screens on the interior of the armored cockpit were merely a backup. As the neural links initialized, he 'saw' through the fighter's sensors in ways that natural human eyes never could. Radio, radar, ladar, magnetometer, all of them flooded his mind and made his other senses unresponsive. He felt the power of the craft burn inside him, a miniature cold fusion reactor became his heart, the energy of a star fueling him. His skin was the outer hull, armored, shielded, and invisible to the naked eye. Such was the rush of being a fighter pilot in an F-204, you didn't control that craft, you WERE the craft. Wayneright noted the ground crew giving him the thumbs up as the rest of the squadron raced to their own craft, the lead ground controler began gesturing him to taxi forward as the mission briefing was uploaded into his mind.

Unknown Object identified as heading southbound towards Scotland at moderate speed. Does not match known profiles, refuses to acknowledge air traffic controls. Consider hostile, currently imaged by two Zeus Orbital weapons platforms, positively targeted by battle group 91 in the North Sea and Ground based installations on Iceland. ETA to landfall over Scotland is three minutes. Squadron is to intercept and engage target. Force to land, if possible. Neutralize if necessary.

Wayneright sent confirmation to base command before turning onto the main strip, his wingman falling in beside him, reciving confirmation, the veteran pilot engaged his thrusters and the F-204 leapt into the sky, his transponder flashing 'Scorpion' to the rest of the squadron while his wingman flashed 'Black Widow', once as well. Squadron tradition whenever they launched with the possibility of going weapons hot. Wayenright climbed fast, almost vertically to gain altitude and with his 'eyes' peered about the sky, watching the rest of the squadron lifting off and falling into formation. He noted that the strip alert fighters were two miles above him, their elements split and giving overwatch to the base. The take offs were routine, and Wayneright let his mind examine the data being relayed real time of the unknown. It was a strange craft, manta ray style, flat, with large fins. It looked somewhat aerodynamic, but it wasn't human. The angles were just slightly off, just strange enough that he couldn't place them. His brain felt the tingle of inbound information again and he 'sensed' the new information.

Weapons are free. Target has refused all hails and appears to have activated gravitic shielding and crude optical camouflage. Has drooped low over Northern Scotland and reducing speed. Target appears to be attempting to avoid detection. Target deemed a threat. Eliminate.

Wayneright confirmed and he turned the F-204 in a maneuver that would have snapped an F-22 Raptor in half fifty years before and his fighter dove towards the deck. The squadron maneuvered into an erratic formation, spaced out widely and at random altitudes, all linked by the squadron net and relaying information back and forth seamlessly. They knew the target, and they knew their capabilities. Wayneright didn't ask questions. He was a fighter pilot and if European Aerospace Command didn't want to engage it with Surface to Air batteries he was more than content to add another kill mark on his fighter. The squadron wove about, elements weaving as they moved across England and reached the Scottish border. Wayneright saw the first marker appear for the craft as the information from multiple sources was composited together and sent to his mind. Ground, air and orbital scanners tracked it, there was no way this craft could avoid detection, the former United Kingdom was one of the principle stepping stones between the North American and European portions of the United Earth States. Orbital defenses, Ground batteries, Fighter wings, airborne sensors, naval forces…their combined sensors could register objects the size of a coin in low orbit…and tell you the denomination. Trying to infilitrate the sensor bubble created by this massive amount of technology was ludicrous. But something had tried.

"Target is painted. Moving to intercept." Wayne right 'thought' to command. He brought his F-204 back somewhat in speed, matching the velocity of the target. He reflexively checked his systems as he closed. His cloak was engaged, he was invisible. His shields were up, he was protected. His nano-armor skin was optimal, and his optic camoflage was online. Internal systems were fully shielded. Ion Burst cannon was charged, rail-cannon was charged, and his twelve kinetic kill warheads were primed. All systems were green, and his squadron squawked green as well. 'Scorpion' brought his craft around in a lazy loop behind the target, no longer a pilot, he was now a weapon with a target to eliminate.

"Target registers no response to our closing." Scorpion thought, his sensor eyes focusing in on the craft, looking at the bright drive exhaust and the exterior camoflage. Thermal signature was non-existent, and gravimetric scanners were showing strange distortions…but otherwise the craft was blatantly visible, there was no optical camoflage to speak of, no cloaking, no sensor masking…nothing. Chinese, Brazilian and Indian forces all had primitve variants of standard UES technology, not good, but it made things challenging. This however, it was like it had never tried to deal with UES sensors…it seemed to think that it was invisible…not to mention it didn't know that twelve invisible birds of prey were following it, with weapons armed.

"I have optimal solution on the target, requesting weapons free and confirmation for elimination." Scorpion thought to command grimly. He felt slightly dirty…he was shooting someone in the back, not very sportsmanlike at all…

Weapons free, Disable target. Came the quick reply. Scorpion was a little embarrassed at his relief. He was a combat pilot after all, but he didn't like killing someone who was a complete sitting duck. A positive response from him, and his perceptions shifted, the sensors identified the drive signature, and he targeted it, selecting his Ion Burst cannon and closing to optimal engagement range. Still no response to his presence could be seen in the craft. Scorpion lazily closed the distance until he was ten kilometers behind and then fired a short burst from his weapons. The energy flash cut the distance in less time than an eye blink and the pair of drives on the craft both exploded as the stream of ion particles sliced through the armor plating around them. The craft sputtered and cart wheeled to one side, then flipped awkwardly over it's nose, the sudden maneuver causing it's forward speed to drop to almost nothing. Scorpion schewed his F-204 around the stricken craft, blazing by close enough that the turbulence from his invisible fighter rocked the crashing vehicle in the air as it seemed to drop very slowly towards the ground. Scorpion circled it, along with the rest of the Squadron, circling the vehicle as it crashed like vultures following a kill.

"Target is disabled. Appears to have crashed in a controlled manner. The propulsion systems are neutralized, but the rest of the craft is intact. Remaining on scene for recovery detail." Scorpion thought, his sensors probing the ground surrounding the craft and taking in as much data as possible for the ground response team. His brain checked the mission timer for a moment and noting that it had barely been ten minutes from the scramble order.

Confirmed, forces en-route to recovery. Remain on station for ground support. Was the reply to him without hesitation. Scorpion was a smart man, but something about this was beyond him. He just couldn't figure out what that something was though. But as his sensor eyes watched the craft, he couldn't help but wonder who was inside it and what they thought they could accomplish by trying to infiltrate the territory of the most technologically advanced nation on Earth, a nation that these days had a military that even China, Brazil, and India were afraid of…

"They've gotta be insane." Scorpion 'said' to his squadron and recived quick affirmatives from all of them. As the squadron circled, waited and watched…they had no clue about just what had been shot down and lay smoking in an English farm field.

UEA Base, Hereford, State of England.

"It's three in the fucking morning!" Came a grumbling curse from down the Armory. Special Forces Commandos they might be, nobody liked being drug out of their nice warm bed at three in the morning to get fully loaded up for a mission that was of the utmost urgency. It tended to elicit some grumbles, but the soldiers were getting geared up quickly and efficiently. Forty soldiers, all of them elite warriors, all of them combat veterans, and all of them enjoying some well deserved down time after spending time behind the lines in what remained of Iraq, Iran and Saudi Arabia after a good four years of warfare over free oil and religious ideology. The men and women in the room all knew how to fight and kill, and they'd all had their lives on the line. They were the bleeding edge of the United Earth Army.

But nobody likes to be woken up at three in the fucking morning.

"Let's go! We have orders to get loaded up into V-44's pronto people! Weapons, armor and ammo! Loaded for bear and ready to kill!" Captain Hall called loudly over the grumbles. Men and women strapped on nano-composite body armor, loaded pulse rifles and slipped capacitor clips into web gear. It was hurried, it was done sleepily, but it was all done properly, each man and woman checking their gear with as much ease as breathing in and out. Forty commandos with full gear was enough to overthrow a country, but getting loaded for bear to go out on a mission in rural England…it was ENGLAND for Christ's sake! There hadn't been a military action on English soil since the Europan forces had come streaming out of the Chunnel to try and crush the strongest ally the US had…and triggered the whole 'Final European Conflict'.

"First squad ready!" Came the call down the line as one group of troopers stood too, echoed quickly by second and third squads, finally fourth. Captain Hall checked the armor sensors and nodded, everyone was online, and they had been asleep ten minutes ago. First squad trotted out, the full body armor they wore light as a feather on them as they jogged out of the armory. Their armor mimicked the hazy weather and cement walls as they jogged towards the waiting VTOL Stork transport. They looked garish in the bright lights of Hereford at night, but in the field, their optical camo would make them ghosts in the wilderness. Something that seemed insane considering the amount of armor and firepower at the fingertips of these soldiers.

It was a fast move, the unit jogging up to the massive V-44 and up the rear deployment ramp. Normally sized for massive Exoskeleton clad assault forces, combat armor clad troopers jogging into the entrance seemed undersized for the opening and the deployment couches and harnesses along the walls. The Commandos were unfazed by the size and settled into the human sized jump seats and strapped in, delving into the onboard combat nets through their neural links and synching up for mission data. They were 'educated' on the surrounding terrain, weather conditions, population distributions, the F-204 intercept and the orbital track of the craft before it had been shot down. The network was already jumping with speculation being exchanged by the troops, all without words being spoken in the deafening interior of the V-44 as it lifted up on four propulsion pods and rocked into the air, leaving the perimeter of Hereford behind as the base began to spring into it's own alert.

Captain Hall strode down the line of commandos and noted them locking visors in place, sealing their armor and checking weapons reflexively. He noted the neural activity going back and forth, most of them jumping to the conclusion that whatever they were going to was…unearthly…

Hall couldn't blame them for reaching that conclusion, it was the first thing that sprang to mind as he'd received the alert warning. Unknown craft penetrating UES territory weren't that common an occurrence anymore except along the Amazon frontlines. Everywhere else was so well defended and scanned that you couldn't sneak a flea past sensors…and couldn't get a warhead past the shielding domes that protected most major UES cities. Hall flicked his neural link over to external sensors and looked around the exterior of the V-44 using it's own sensors giving him the effect of flying through the air as he walked along. Despite the firm feel of his boots daglocking to the deck, he shook his head slightly. It was a hard sensation to get used to, but it was something he had to do to prepare for mission. 'Seeing' the ground was habit for him before a fight. Without turning he began to issue orders over his link.

His mind brought up the imagery of the crash site and examined it in his mind, on reflex the area was sliced into a grid pattern, rotated in his mind's eye and broken down by topographic levels. His mind began placing waypoints on the map, and relaying it to his team. A circle began to develop with the downed craft in the center. First squad and second were to deploy along the perimeter of the field for area security, third was stationed on overwatch on a large rise in the ground to the south between the drop zone and the crash. Finally, fourth would be making the close assault on the target to secure it from it's pilots.

The team watched the mission layout being developed and accepted it readily. It was quick, dirty and direct, good to secure and take the position without too much fuss. It was only when the questions phase came up that things got interesting.

"Question sir, possible opposition?" Came from Lieutenant Simmons, leader of third squad. He was the quickest one since most of the detachment was thinking the same thing.

"Unknown, presume valid threat." Hall replied curtly as he adjusted his helmet and sealed it against the atmosphere, making it soundproof to the drone of the V-44. 'presume valid threat' was the common parlance for the UES Military but rarely used. Most of their technology was untouchable when set next to the average level of gear that the Chinese, Indians or Brazilians used, caution was a result of training, not a belief that their equipment could hurt UES forces. But the term 'valid threat' meant something that could kill them in the hands of the average person on the streets. Civilian small arms in the UES were considered 'valid threats' even though they were projectile firearms. The assault rifles and gear usually used by possible hostile nations were not normally given the same generosity. Nuclear weapons were rarely considered a 'valid threat' by UES strategic planners…to call a detected and intercepted craft a 'valid threat' said something about just what command thought might be on board. "Sir, is this alien?" Blurted Sergeant Meade from First team. The question sent a few chuckles up by the more cynical members of the unit, but the rest of the unit was deathly silent. They were all smart people, every one of them extremely well trained and well educated, 'dumb grunt' did not apply to a Special Forces Commando. Hall looked around and saw all the faceplates looking at him. The life signs overlaid on each of them in his mind's eye showed a slight peak in readings that indicated nervousness. It was a hard question to ask, and not one that you asked professionally. Over a century of popular culture and exposure to the concept of aliens…and it was nerve racking to be face to face with the concept of something tangible being confronted…

They were getting nervous. Hall knew that he had to take control and make sure that they didn't get jittery and start doubting their own abilities. Too many pop-culture icons involved aliens being invincible and overwhelmingly powerful capable of laying waste to the best that humanity could come up with.

"Unknown. That's what we're going to find out. Troopers, we are professionals, we're the best there is in small unit combat. Every one of you has faced combat, and every one of you is an elite warrior. You're members of the United Earth States Military. Our armies have faced off against some of the deadliest wars in history, our soldiers have emerged victorious, from Mexico, Panama, Venezuela, to Germany, France and Russia, we've emerged victorious from the most destructive conflicts in our history. You're members of the military that only fools dare cross. You're equipped with weapons that were unimaginable fifty years ago. You're trained better than the most dangerous warriors in history. If it's little green men, then we'll turn them into green paste." Hall said slowly over the audio link, letting the unit know just how confident he was in his words. He noted the vitals on his team drop slightly. Even when you were the best, ego stroking was a good way to restore confidence, especially when your commander knew just what buttons to press. He saw the nods and smiled behind his faceplate.

"Now that the codling is done boys and girls, are we ready to play soldier?" Hall asked with a cocky twinge to his words. The response of gauntlets and weapons being slapped against breastplates was echoed with the roar that came in unison from the throats of the team. Hall nodded and they rose up, marching back to the deployment lines on the sides of the V-44, eschewing the massive drop doors for the exoskeletons in the belly of the craft. Hall switched over to the external view and he saw the drop zone, the objective, and the IFF readings from the F-204 squadron circling overhead, two hovering on station near the downed craft while the rest made lazy arcs through the air high above.

As Hall made it to the deployment door, he formed up with Fourth team, the others each at their own doorway, all cracked open in unison and deployment lines droped as the V-44 circled over the drop zone. Hall disconnected from the transport's linkup and grabbed the deployment line, his Pulse Rifle auto-affixed to his chest plate as he removed his hands from it, and his gauntlets responded to grasp the high density line in a death-grip, letting him free rappel down it towards the peat below. He turned his head to look at the craft and saw that it was smoking in the darkness, but it wasn't on fire, nor was there a large gouge torn up through the field. That told him something all on it's own, the craft had been brought down, but it hadn't crashed. With the ground rapidly approaching, he landed on the soft peat and the nano-musculature of his combat armor absorbed the impact. He released the line and started jogging towards the rise in the ground. It would be hard to miss forty troopers fast roping from a hovering V-44, regardless of the optic camo and cloaking.

The team fanned out behind him, weapons ready, and their own eyes scanning for threats in addition to the numerous sensor feeds being relayed to them. The cascade of information being fed to the team was immense, from orbital satellites, the sensors of the F-204's, combined suit sensors, even the small baseball sized drones that the team launched from their armor were all woven together to give a degree of information that would have drowned the average combat soldier a century before. But they knew everything about the fight, from the thoughts of their team mates to the status of their support craft, to the weather and the terrain, the location of hostiles, the weapons they carried. These were force multipliers that made the advent of radio on the battlefield seem paltry in comparison.

"Fourth is on you sir." His team signaled as third reached the rise in the ground with him and dropped into firing positions. Pulse rifles and heavier infantry support weapons were trained on the craft as fourth team moved through third to prepare for it's close assault. First and second fanned out and formed two half circles, isolating the downed craft.

"Negative on possible hostiles, there is an opening on the side facing us though, probable entry point." Came the information from forth's sharpshooter, her weapon sight picture relayed in the teams information. Hall studied it as he ran and then dove into position behind a stone wall that had probably been there when Norman the Conqueror had first come to English soil. He peaked over the lip of the stones and examined the entry point. It was perfectly formed, roughly human sized, neat edges. It was clearly a controlled entry point, a hatch of some sort, and judging by it's recent entry, it was clearly an escape hatch of some sort. As Hall watched, something moved inside.

"I have movement." The sharpshooter said calmly, but Hall could sense the jump in vitals. She was clearly exited, and she wasn't alone. Even Hall felt his heart beat faster as he peered at the ship. Only through training could he keep himself from simply watching.

"Weapons tight. Fourth, move up, all others hold position, do not fire unless fired upon." Hall said curtly and rose up over the wall, moving across the young wheat in the field at a slow walk, Pulse rifle shouldered and the rest of fourth on either side of him, mirroring his motions. Everyone was tense, and Hall forced his hands to relax the stiff grip on his weapon. He knew that the unknown was what was getting to the team. They had access to an insane amount of tactical information, and yet they had no idea just what they were moving against. In the days of total immersion intelligence, linked neural networks and unified squad interfaces…the unknown was a dangerous and frightening thing.

"Let's find out what the hell is in this thing." Hall said aloud over the team link to fourth. He ordered two of the recon drones closer to the craft, letting their own multi-spectrum sensors probe the entrance as them moved closer. Whatever was inside was moving back from the entry, there was no tangible information gathered from it, just an indistinct form. Hall and his team reached the halfway point when the firing started. They were completely exposed in the field as a weapon of some kind began firing. As he dropped to the ground and aimed at the entry way, his network provided him with the possible intelligence on the opposing force.

Man portable magnetic accelerator weapons firing a miniscule projectile. Make, model and munition are unknown. Hall was informed by his suit's Battle AI. He hugged the ground, and watched the entry. He hadn't given the order to fire and decided instead to give them a chance.

"Cease fire and surrender!" Hall called out over the helmet comm, his voice amplified and filling the air with authority. The weapons fire abated for a moment, but no response came. Whoever was firing didn't want to be chatty.

"Fourth, close assault. Third, obstruction screen on the ground. First, Second, hold position." Hall ordered over his neural link and as one, fourth rose up, weapons fire filling the air from the ship as a series of smoke charges landed on the field. White phosphorus, ordinary smoke and tear gas filled the air, giving the unit cover as they quickly began to run across the field, weapons ready and laying down a pattern of covering fire into the smoke cloud. The sensors being fed into their minds gave the team perfect vision through the smoke, but the opponent wasn't so lucky. Instead, the weapons fire began to get erratic as the gas drifted over the downed craft. Hall was tempted to use a nerve gas charge to kill the occupants, but he restrained himself. They didn't have to take prisoners, but outright slaughter wasn't always the best thing to do with the unknown.

Fourth moved through the smoke and split into two elements as they moved through the opaque cloud. The weapons fire scythed through the air, whoever they were, they weren't giving up. The commandos formed up as a chevron, looking at the entry point, the generated image of the ship filling their minds as they gazed into the smoke. One of the recon drones darted forwards and they got their first close look at who was piloting the craft.

Or rather, what.

It was almost human…but not. Humanoid, but shaped differently, bones out of place, musculature different, but that wasn't what you focused on. It was the head. Not exactly huge, but shaped strangely. Large eyes, wide mouth, two curled…tendrils? Whatever they were, they looked almost like a pair of horns. Three fingered hands…clutching a weapon of some kind. Hall stared for a moment, dumbfounded at the sight of the image that he was seeing. It was an alien, an honest to god, real alien. He could hear the odd gasps coming from his team, but he shook them off. He keyed the comm once more, this time, his voice came out of everyone in Fourth, loud and direct.

"Disarm now! Or we will use lethal force!" Hall commanded to the creature as it looked about in shock at the booming voice coming from the smoke. The creature paused and glanced around, it's large eyes seemed to blink and it shook it's head. It's weapon raised and it started firing again. That was all that Hall needed.

"Take! Take! Take!" Hall barked reflexively and Fourth team leapt into action. Half the team moved forward as the other half laid down suppressing fire on the hatch and tossed stun and flash grenades into it. The alien recoiled and Hall raised his weapon, the Pulse Rifle leapt to his shoulder and the sight picture settled over it's upper chest. Without hesitation Hall triggered a burst from his rifle and sent a pulse of phased energy sweeping through the creature's upper chest, neatly bisecting the flesh and sending a spray of ichor into the air as the arm supporting it's rifle flew away. A strange cry filled the air and the creature dropped. From inside, there were more cries. Hall and his half of the team covered the entry, the other element of the commandos stacked on the door and the lead Sergeant held his hand over the door, letting the gauntlet's sensors scan the interior of the ship.

"Breaching, target neutralized." Sergeant Brook called out aloud and his team moved through the entrance, weapons ready. Hall scanned the interior image of the craft as the first detachment moved in. Hall waited until the first five soldiers were in before he followed with his men, stepping over the immense pool of blood flooding from the dead hostile.

Dead alien.

Hall's sensors took a capture of the alien and he examined the face in a conrner of his view as he moved into the ship. It was a face that seemed almost human in death. Pained, confused, and lifeless. The veteran commando shook off the feeling, but was disturbed by it on a much deeper level. This thing was a living breathing creature, or rather, had been one moments ago…and yet…it was not human. It was from another world.

"Contact." Sergeant Brook said calmly as the sound of weapons fire came from down the corridor of the ship. Hall looked up and ignored his emotions, there was a job to do. The internal map he was studying showed an 'L' shaped central corridor, the short half leading to the exit door, the longer half running the length of the ship. Brook's element was in the main passage, engaged with something at the arbitrary 'front' of the craft. Hall nodded and gave the command to sweep and clear the chambers on either side of the passage. He looked at the rounded hatches and the passage, it felt flowing…almost alive with so many rounded edges and the lack of sharp corners. It felt like an almost aquatic vessel, not a…spacecraft.

Hall looked around the corner and saw two more of the aliens cut down, both holding rifles and firing into Sergeant Brook's element. It was brutal and quick, it didn't seem like any of the creatures had on armor. Hall shook his head, whatever they were, the couldn't be soldiers, could they?

"Clear this ship, completely, and lock it down." Hall ordered and his team broke up, opening rooms and checking to see if there were anymore beings within it. The search was fast, and thorough. There was a cockpit, an engineering section, one sleeping chamber, one room that looked like a laboratory, and one that looked like a storage space. There were three tubes in the sleeping room, there were three dead aliens.

One firefight, and humanity knew it wasn't alone in the universe.