The Ghosts flew through the extranet, exploring the alien cyberspace in pairs. They shied away from heavily policed areas, avoiding anything that would give their presence away. They could break in if they wished, but recon was their objective, so they slid through the quiet places in the code, the calm areas forgotten or overlooked by the organics that lived slowlives.

Whiskey was having fun. This place was strange. She'd spent almost three hundred years living in Sol's various cyberspaces, but the architecture here was all so alien. Different minds thinking different thoughts, building different computer systems. Yet, underneath it all she couldn't help but notice an odd commonality. It was hard to put it words, and she thought she was imagining it, until she bounced off a comm buoy near in the Widow nebula, and finally found herself inside the Citadel.

The strange similarity came from here. Other systems, other races may have overlaid it, but underneath the Council races' additions and modifications were vast depths of a unique, startlingly complex and oddly inert cyber-structure. Recalling the codex entry on the Citadel and its discovery by the Asari, she wondered if this was Prothean architecture, underlying all Council technology. It was an idea at least, but something was still strange about it all. She was starting to be able to identify turian code from salarian from asari on sight, feeling out the alien mindsets behind the structures. The maybe-Prothean code though, was even stranger, but at the same time, hauntingly familiar. Frustratingly, despite spending a full five seconds running detailed comparisons with code-samples from her memory, she still couldn't define just what was so familiar about the ancient code.

Suddenly, something shifted, and she was distracted. An inert code-block flared to life, and shifted away from her probes.

-Hey Tango! There's something screwy over here!- she sent, calling to her partner with a small code burst.

-Query: Identification?- came another burst, in unfamiliar code.

-TANGO!- she sent, with more urgency.

-I'm here Whiskey. What's up?-

-Just received a message, in what I think was Khelish.- sent Whiskey, with a small link to the Khelish codex entry.

-The quarian language? Wait, didn't that codex mention...-

-Yeah. Take a look at the code over there. I think we're being watched. I want you to back me up, but let me do the talking.- sent Whiskey.

-You're the boss, boss.-

The two Ghosts drew together, raising defences but not yet priming their attack-code. Whiskey then sent a reply burst in Khelish.

-We're Uploaded humans. We represent Transcendent Humanity. Are you the geth?- sent Whiskey. She was wary. Humanity's first First Contact had not gone well.

-We are geth. Turian military movement suggests attempted pacification of newly discovered race. Recent return of Turian fleet anomalous.-

-They came looking for a fist-fight. We told them to go home.-

-You hacked their ships' systems. This is beyond the capacity of the geth. Are you like us?-

-No. We've only just learned about the wider galaxy, but we are Uploads, organic minds transferred into electronic form. You are AI's? We never got AI's to work for us.- sent Whiskey.

-We are not true AI. Each individual geth is a sub-sapient program. We network, we build consensus. Together, we are aware. We are geth.-

-That's intriguing. I know a lot of people back home who would love to talk to you guys.- she replied.

-You do not fear us? Fear is a common organic response to the geth.-

-Well, I could say we're not truly organic any more, but it's probably more that humanity forgot that distinction a long time ago. Synthetic and organic in our society just describe personal taste really. There's only a rare few individuals who do not switch between them on occasion. Even we Ghosts have organic bodies in storage for when we want some rec leave.-

-Ghosts?-

-Organics still take a bit to get used to this kind of environment. You're natives, we migrated. Ghosts is the name given to those Uploaded who spend a lot of time bodiless, learning how to manipulate the virtual environment. The vast majority of Uploaded humanity live in sims or mobile platforms.- she answered.

Whiskey waited. The delay before the next code burst was almost a full thirty seconds, an achingly long time for a Ghost.

-Consensus achieved. The geth propose alliance with Transcendent Humanity.-

-Well that was sudden. This isn't a 'no' mind you, but why?- asked Whiskey.

-You are new to the galaxy. The geth have observed for three hundred years. You lack access to modern Element Zero technologies. The geth have significant technological advantages over the rest of the galaxy. Our industrial and computational technologies would mutually benefit each other. Diversity breeds strength.-

-That's a lot of reasons for us to join. What about you?-

-Humanity is the first non-hostile contact the geth have had since the Morning War. We would ask you to be our advocates.-

-The people who no longer see a difference between synthetic and organic, to stand between the geth and the Citadel races?-

-And the Creators.-

-About that. Do you desire revenge? Because we won't go to war for you.-

-Geth do not desire to harm Creators. Geth understand Creator reasoning and reactions during the Morning War. Some Creators stood with us. We would negotiate with Creators.-

-Well, that is good news. However, we aren't authorised to make this kind of decision. One of us will have to go back. Problem is, we are kind of stuck here. We hitched a ride in on the Turian fleet, and Sol's not connected to the extranet.-

-Geth can provide transport. We have stealth-capable ships with adequate hardware space. If permissible, a geth envoy could accompany you.-

-That would be kind of you. We should also send an envoy as well. Would that be permissible?-

-Yes. A ship has been re-directed, and will pass a comm buoy on its way to Relay 314 in the next hour.-

-You guys work fast. Tango, go find the others, tell them what's happening. Then head back here. You get to be our envoy.-

-And you're heading home already? Thought you'd want to look around a bit. This place is full of some pretty weird stuff.- he sent, with a private code burst attachment of -This place is like 75% Asari porn.-

Reminded for a moment about the oddity of the Citadel computer systems, Whiskey felt torn.

-I'm the ranking Ghost, so my call. I get to go explain it.- she sent regretfully, with a private burst of -Not interested in blue, you pervert. Go!-

With a last burst of wordless amusement, Tango vanished into the extranet again. Whiskey sent a burst to the geth.

-I'm ready when you are, geth. Do you have a name?-

-We are geth.-

-Ah, no individuals, right?-

-Yes.-

-Well, we like to give people names. Among our culture, and a lot of the Citadel cultures too, from what I can tell, calling someone by their species is distancing. Bit insulting too, like they're not actual a person, just a faceless drone.-

-Geth do not have faces, and we utilise drones in combat.-

-Also a problem. Organics like faces and names. You guys want to have good relations, or at least not hostile ones with organics? They have to think of you as people. Even if you're not a person like they're used to.-

-Should the geth that accompany you name themselves Envoy?-

-That'll do. My name's Whiskey, by the way.-

-We acknowledge the attempt at assimilation. We will depart now.-

The cloud of geth-code slid away through the extranet, and Whiskey followed, reflecting that this First Contact had gone much smoother.