Councillor Tevos had a headache. It was the exact size, shape and volume as Councillor Sparatus.

"Valern, is this report accurate?" she said, hoping her salarian colleague would have better news.

"STG experts can determine no trace of AI handiwork in the Turian fleet's systems. Additionally, there have been no notable disturbances in any monitored extranet channels. No supporting evidence. However, that is what one would expect from a cyber-war optimised AI."

No help there. "Sparatus, why did your people think it was a good idea to attack an unknown species? This is not what First Contact should be like!"

"They were activating Relays, the patrol fleet was well within its rights to stop them. After the first skirmish, we determined that they had no mass effect capable technology. We assumed they were a young race, in over their heads. We stepped in to apply guidance and discipline." replied Sparatus tersely, his mandibles held tightly to the side of his face.

"That appears to have worked splendidly." Tevos took a breath and turned to gaze out at the Widow nebula. Its silent beauty helped calm her. "We may be getting ahead of ourselves here. We only have a single Primarch's report and no clear evidence in the matter."

"Primarch Geron is not inclined to flights of fancy. I know the man, he wouldn't have forwarded this report unless he was concerned about it." said Sparatus.

"Lack of hard data on human capabilities is unsettling. Eye witness reports notoriously unreliable." said Valern.

"What concerns me is not just that we know so little about them, but that they know so much about us. Every piece of data in that fleet is gone, and I do not believe for a moment that it was simply deleted." said Tevos.

"A valid assumption. Still, matter should resolve itself soon." said Valern.

"What are you talking about?" asked Sparatus.

"Humans almost certainly have location of Citadel. If they are hostile, they will launch an attack. If they wish to negotiate, they will send diplomats. It benefits no one to wait, so they are most likely already on their way." explained Valern.

"Then we should increase the Citadel Defence Fleet! Prepare!" snapped Sparatus.

"If they are attempting to negotiate, their would be no harm in a show of strength." mused Tevos.

"As long as there are no accidents." added Valern.

XXXXXXXX

The Widow Relay spat five ships into Citadel space; one kilometre-long cruiser, flanked by four frigates. Thick armour plates covered their sides; overlapping like the large belly-scales of a serpent. The cruiser was an elongated wedge with a slightly flared back and a flat, rectangular front. A large shaft in its centre was flanked by four smaller barrels. The frigates were a quarter the size of the cruiser and much smoother and rounder, with swept-back wings housing oversized drives.

Aboard the cruiser's command sim, Captain Warren stared at the vid feed suspended in the air in front of him.

"Well, confirmation at last. The Citadel is definitely the Keep. Pretty much the same name, really." he said.

"Indeed sir," noted his Lieutenant. "Though we still don't know why we shouldn't trust it."

"Not for us to figure out. SIA's been running non-stop since we met the Turians. Now that," he added, "is a rather large fleet."

The Citadel Defence Force's numbers had been swelled by emergency reinforcements from its member races. It nearly numbered as much as the original Turian Suppression fleet.

"Sir, we're being hailed. Request for identification, threats if we don't reply." said the Comms tech.

"Open a channel."

A small blue light blinked into existence in front of him. Warren tapped it, and it began to pulse faintly.

"This is the Solar Navy cruiser By Other Means. You appear to have been expecting us. We are escorting an ambassador to begin diplomatic negotiations with the Citadel Council. Requesting docking permission." Warren tapped the light again and it stopped pulsing.

"No response, sir." said the Comms tech.

"No, they'll have to call up their bosses, who'll call up their bosses. There'll be yelling and screaming, at least one cup of whatever they have instead of coffee falling on the floor, and we'll be getting a reply right about now."

Silence reigned in the command sim. It then continued to do so.

"Damn. That'd have been pretty sweet." said Warren, grinning slightly.

"Incoming communication," said the Comms tech. "They want us to send one shuttle, no more than five people in the diplomatic party, and we are not to move from our current position."

"We're playing nice. Send them confirmation, then get the ambassador and four guards onto a shuttle. Here's hoping this goes well, but prep for a fast, hot evac just in case." said Warren.

XXXXXXXX

M-7 Avaunt stood an even 2 metres tall, and was one of the oldest styles of work-body in the human military. It had originally been based on prototype power-armour, but with an Uploaded pilot, all the space previously needed to fit a human body inside had been replaced and filled by one technological device or another. Seven generations after the first hastily modified suit, the M-7 Avaunt was a preferred combat body for its close resemblance to a human frame, allowing for quick user adaptation and a familiar range of movement.

Four of them now flanked a much shorter figure as he disembarked from a small shuttle onto the Citadel docks. For this mission, they were equipped with large metal packs along their spines, which were in turn covered by large rectangular shields. Awaiting them was a group of C-Sec officers. At the sight of the Avaunts, they all tightened their grips on their weapons.

"Greetings," said the central figure, in perfect Turian. "I am Ambassador Udina. Take me to your leaders."