"Try to be more precise, Lieutenant."
"I am trying," snapped Takarn. "You're asking me to recall what I saw onscreen for the few seconds before everything went down."
"And you have been incredibly vague, almost to the point of obstruction," replied his Salarian debriefer.
"I am not hiding anything! I'm Turian, we don't have your perfect memory! All I saw was my tactical screen get filled with contacts, more than I could count. Thousands, at the least."
The debriefer did that particular sigh unique to Salarians whenever they were disappointingly reminded of the terrible memories and slower thinking of other races. Takarn hated that little, short sigh. It was like his mother's, only sharper.
"During the period when all ship systems were down, did you make any observations of the Human fleet?" asked the Salarian.
"All our Omni-tools were wiped, but there wasn't anything else to do but look. Could only see the ships and emplacements closest to us. There were a dozen dreadnought-sized ships, but they were being deployed like cruisers."
"How could you tell?" interrupted the Salarian.
Takarn glared at him. "Because I'm a Turian whose duty is to monitor my tac screen for contacts. I can tell the difference between a Batarian slaver running for cover and a Quarian crew in a salvaged Batarian slave ship running for cover. It's what I do."
"Very well," said the Salarian, making notes on his Omni-tool. "Continue."
"There were a lot of smaller ships, hundreds, of all sorts of sizes and shapes, but I only saw two types larger than the cruisers. One of them must have been a true dreadnought; it was almost five kilometres long."
"How did you determine that without instruments?" interrupted the Salarian again.
"Our Omni-tools still worked. We thought they were working just fine, until we got back to Palaven and found they were empty. My 'tool told me the dreadnoughts were five kilometres long, and it was using the standard Turian military sensor suite." Takarn ground out. He was rapidly losing his calm with this Salarian.
The Salarian, with typical Salarian indifference, waved for him to continue.
"Anyway, last ship type was even larger than the dreadnoughts. In fact, it looked like it was made of five dreadnought hulls, with four attached to the central one in a cross shape. Here, I made a sketch."
Takarn activated his new Omni-tool, his old one having been confiscated by the STG for analysis. He called up the image he had been working on. More than any other, these ships had stuck in his mind.
The image he displayed clearly showed a long, squat cylinder with four identical cylinders attached in a '+' to its front. The Salarian stared at it for a moment before speaking.
"What do you think is the purpose of this ship? Given that the Humans could make five dreadnoughts for one of them, they must be capable of great devastation."
"That's the strange thing. From how their ships were formed, I'd almost say it was a support ship."
"This ship would barely fit inside the Citadel with its arms at maximum extension. Nine of them would not only be the same volume as the Citadel, but out-mass it by a significant amount. You are suggesting that such a vessel is a support ship?"
"From their positioning, yeah."
The Salarian looked at his notes for a few minutes, then, without warning, got up and left. Takarn knew he'd be back within half an hour, just like the last three times. He took this opportunity to have a nap.
X
"Ambassador Udina, welcome back. I trust you enjoyed your tour of the Presidium?" announced Tevos.
"Quite an impressive sight, though I only saw a small portion. I hope your deliberations were productive?" responded Udina.
"They were. Although no formal state of war has been declared as of yet, it is the position of the Citadel Council that Transcendent Humanity will be welcomed as fellow members of the galactic community, and are permitted to expand to those systems immediate to the Arcturus Relay." said Tevos.
"I am quite relived to hear that Councillors." said Udina, smiling broadly.
"There is another matter we wish to address, however." said Sparatus.
"We wish to offer humanity membership to the Council." said Tevos.
"I am sorry Councillors, but I believe I have already turned down such an offer." responded Udina.
"Yes, you did. Your points were well received however, and that is why we wish to offer you a Council seat." said Valern.
"That...is most unexpected, Councillors." said a visibly shocked Udina.
"In is unprecedented," said Sparatus, "and it would not be immediate."
"We would have to understand humanity better, make sure that your race would be suited. Certain standards would have to be met."
Udina's face calmed again. "Indeed. For both sides. This offer, to be frank, is more than I am currently able to authorise. But I can tell you, that we could not accept it until certain issues were resolved."
"Issues such as?" asked Tevos.
"The most obvious? As your laws stand, the majority of our population could be either euthanised or arrested. We are not AI's, but your laws make no distinction. Your laws on genetic engineering, dreadnought construction, cybernetic modification and innumerable smaller issues have the potential to essentially outlaw the majority of our civilisation. Of course, our laws may similarly impact upon your own. Unlike the majority of other races you have encountered, we cannot accept your laws as they stand. We would be willing to negotiate though." said Udina.
"You would negotiate an offer of a Council seat?" growled Sparatus. "There is no greater honour than to join the Council."
"Councillors, as long as you see it in terms of us joining you, there will be problems. Transcendent Humanity's history nearly eclipses your own. The Voice will not accept subsumation." said Udina.
"The Voice?" asked Valern.
"The Voice speaks for humanity. It is to the Voice I will make my report, and my recommendation. The Voice will decide whether we accept your proposal." said Udina.
"The Voice is your leader?" asked Tevos.
"Not as such. The Voice is the aggregated opinion and belief of Transcendent Humanity. It is our Voice. It does not rule us, we give birth to it."
"A collective conciousness?" inquired Valern.
"No. All races have a collective will. What would be the turian response to an unprovoked attack on Palaven?" asked Udina.
"War," responded Sparatus tightly.
"That is the collective will of a race. Ours simply speaks for itself. I will submit your proposal, and all recorded data I have collected, to my direct superiors. They will then disseminate it throughout Sol. Humanity as a whole will decide whether to accept your proposal, and any conditions we may place upon it."
"It would appear these discussions are at an end until the Voice makes its decision." said Tevos
"That would be correct, Councillor." said Udina.
"Then, please convey our welcome to the galactic community back to Sol, and our hopes for lasting peace and unity," said Tevos.
"Thank you, Councillors. We'll be in touch," said Udina, before bowing slightly in perfect unison with his guards. They turned, and left.
"We will look back on this day and wish we'd shot them all." said Sparatus once the human delegation was gone.
"Quite possibly," said Tevos. "Or we will mark it as the start of a something wonderful."
"Either way, there are plans to make, agents to contact, intelligence to gather," said Valern. "One thing is certain: we must proceed with caution. We still know little about humanity, while they know much about us."
X
"You know what, Lieutenant? When I got a shiny message from the Solar Council itself, requesting my services in guarding a diplomatic envoy to what may be the most important negotiation in human history, I never expected it to be this boring." Warrens said, slouching deeper into his command chair.
His arse was going numb. That was a high-grade military sim for you. To ensure maximum functionality by the crew, the highest possible quality of simulation was enacted. His steaming cup of coffee, as virtual as everything else, didn't just taste like coffee, it acted like coffee. He took a sip, and smiled. At least they'd managed to shout down the purists who'd wanted the sims to be accurate, as well as realistic. This was damn good coffee. He shifted again, trying to get comfortable. Regretfully, human physiology was one thing the purists had managed to wrangle in. 'Discomfort serves a valuable purpose in keeping crew alert' they'd said. Bastards probably sat in tropical beach sims or something, and did their paperwork in hammocks.
"Maybe the Ambassador will screw things up, and we'll have to shoot our way out?" replied the Lieutenant.
"Nah, Udina's a sly bastard. Politician to the core. If this falls through, it won't be his doing. Guy's a snake, but a charming one."
"Maybe the Council won't see reason?"
"If they've gone this long without opening fire on us, we're probably safe. Unless someone does something stupid."
"Sir, we've got a knock on the door," piped up the Comms tech. "Ghost-ident Tango 77d5-a284. Pass-phrase correct."
"Let him in," said Warrens, as he sat up in his chair.
The world broke. Fracture lines of howling rainbow static peeled away from a rent in the air before Warrens. His pristine command sim flickered, and for a moment raw cyberspace crawled at his senses. Something moved within that terrifyingly energetic abyss, something with dozens of limbs; something orbited by a hundred smaller objects that spun round a central core. As the thing forced itself into Warrens' reality, its tendrils hooked onto the raw edges of the hole in the world, and pulled them close behind it. As the gaping maw slid shut, the creature coalesced into a pale young man with silver hair and electric-blue eyes. Occasionally, he flickered.
"There was a door, Ghost Tango." said Warrens as he fought the feeling that his eyes were crossed, and his ears on backwards.
"Sorry Captain, I think I broke it on the way in. Patched it up for you though, better than new." said Tango. He looked worried.
"You have something to report?" asked Warrens. He wasn't going to make a big deal out of Tango's violation of reality. Ghosts were so adapted to raw cyberspace that it took them effort to fit into sims without breaking them, although they themselves could always see the underlying code.
"I have something that needs further investigation. A lot of further investigation. Did Whiskey tell you about the Citadel code architecture?"
"It was mentioned, but the geth were the main focus. Why? And weren't you supposed to go with the geth?" asked Warrens.
"There was no need to go far. The geth have backdoors across half the extranet. I was in their servers-cities within an hour of Whiskey leaving. Found out some rather uncomfortable stuff, came back to the Citadel to confirm a hunch, and am now considering myself lucky I no longer have pants to piss."
"What did you find?" asked Warrens, as he sipped his coffee. Ghosts may joke around, but they were cyber special forces. It took a lot to scare one.
"The quick, pithy one-liner to yell back to Sol ASAP? The Destroyers aren't gone."