A/N: Last chapter of the year, hope you all like it. Beta read by Xabiar.
Hyperia
Colonized worlds were developed with both ecological and urban concerns, as well as aesthetics in mind.
Parks, both on the ground level and suspended, shared space with executive buildings and apartment complexes. Hotels and commercial centers vied for the tallest spires, offering the most panoramic view as possible. Arenas could hold shows, events, and games for varied sports.
Organically, small business such as restaurants, cafés, and independent stores opened on commercial centers or at the very street level, together with stores from big-name brands, be it on designer clothing, technology, jewelry and many other areas.
Streets and avenues were designed to accommodate cars and pedestrians alike; be it through the self-driving buses or taxis owned by the cities themselves, their own privately owned cars.
Together with the suspended maglev trains that ran between buildings and the subway below the foundations of the tall pinnacles, citizens could easily and comfortably cross the large cities and reach their destinations.
On the outskirts of the great urban centers, spaceports and industry took hold, and amid them, the so called suburbs formed; with thousands and thousands of houses next to each other.
Two stories, three stories, with and without pools, with terraces or normal roofs; no house was too similar to each other. Local commerce and entrepreneurship flourished, along with occasional major corporation stores within shopping centers and the like.
Highways and maglev train lines offered transportation efficiently to and from the urban centers to the suburban housing districts, and even to smaller and distant settlements, either at the coasts of the continents; or further inland, where the large hypermatter reactors, military bases and orbital defense batteries were also located.
Such settlements were the ones that housed horizontal farming, either owned by families or companies; stretching for large swathes of land and cultivating genetic modified crops, similarly devoid of the human hand, save for coordinating the automated farming vehicles and the commercialization of such crops.
Different from the natural herds of livestock that could rarely be found outside of Terra, cloned animal meat be it red or otherwise, was grown on demand, effectively equal to the finest natural cuts.
Still, the novelty of eating something natural still drove the market for organic food. Unmodified crops and natural meat could be found at the most expensive restaurants and markets.
With the advent of interstellar colonization, verticalization could afford to take a step back on urban development; living space was not a concern anymore, after all. Long gone were the days of tens of millions cramped together.
On one of those suburban areas, Ricardo and Edward, friends through their profession and location, organized a small social gathering on the backyard of Ricardo's house.
Neighbors and friends either stood through the yard or sat along recliners and chairs by the pool, drinking and chatting, shielded from the bright star by the sun umbrellas. Their drinks were prepared and served on their demand dutifully by two droids, silent as stone, but with a friendly smile on their artificial faces.
Their wives, Yelena and Alyra, socialized with their friends, entertaining the guests in place of their husbands; the only figures from their families lacking, however, were their sons.
The spring season lasted four months locally, instead of the three on Terra, it brought back the imported and genetically modified birds who chirped and flew beneath the leaves and branches of the widespread trees, both the ones planted on sidewalks and the ones in backyards.
Similar to the alien Pinus radioactiva species, the fauna and flora on the hundreds of settled worlds outside the inner systems differed little from the ones found on Terra's or Elysia's continents.
Unlike their original templates, those species were specifically engineered to aggressively overtake and supplant any biosphere in which they are introduced, effectively terraforming planets that already housed life.
The process could span a couple decades if made in junction with human intervention, or millennia if left untouched. Slowly and surely, the native species would be hunted and brought to extinction, being supplanted by the foreign species.
Ricardo, who manned the barbecue grill, salting steaks and tending to the ones already on fire, spoke suddenly to his friend without turning his attention away. "You know, Ed, I was afraid that it wouldn't work. But it sort of turned out alright it seems."
"I expected us to be dragged into a war, too. First Contacts are sensitive stuff," The man replied sipping on his drink. "And I did not think the Asari would hold their part of the alliance and not attack us with the others."
"I remember when Senator Maximillian argued for us to make First Contact ourselves, perhaps the Emperor listened to him in the end, instead of going with François idea of letting the Asari handle it."
"I guess," he replied shrugging, and then adopted a mildly sad look, upon remembering the rest of their conversation. "William and Angelo still enlisted, though."
"They're both too stubborn," Ricardo scoffed, before asking. "Do you think we influenced them? You know, they grew up on our stories."
"I don't know to be honest; it could be that, or it could be my father's own stories." He looked away, toying with the drink in his hands. "Or they could have just wanted to, you know, by themselves."
"You two are the true stubborn ones." A third voice surprised both of them.
Alyra had her arms crossed, and a reproachful look on her face as she approached the two men. "You should have supported their decision instead of criticizing them. It is done, they're in, went through boot camp or whatever, there's nothing you two can do about it."
Ricardo turned his attention away from the grill, eyeing the woman. "I know that, 'Lyra, but it doesn't makes me feel any better."
She had yellow eyes, short black hair, and a nose that caused many to call her snobbish. "It's not you who needs to be at ease with it, it's them. What did you want them to do, live off basic income for life while accumulating degrees?"
"I'm surprised you two are actually agreeing with it." Edward commented, motioning with his free hand between Alyra and his own wife. "They could die, you know."
"And they also could not," she retorted. "We're not even at war, and it's quite hypocritical of you two to tell them not to join, given you two did yourselves."
Edward looked away, suddenly interested in the trimmed live-fence, and Ricardo turned back to the grill, both attempting to escape the conversation.
"Alyra and Yelena twenty-five, Ricardo and Edward sixteen. Another argument won, you've got to step up boys," she teased, poking Ricardo on the shoulder. "Now, both of you, let the droids care of the grill and come talk to the guests."
Once the woman was out of earshot, Edward muttered. "…I don't remember that we were actually losing."
"I had no idea they were keeping track of it."
The day passed, they dined and drank with friends through the afternoon, celebrating nothing in particular, except perhaps life itself. Eventually, their friends left to their own homes, leaving to the droids the task of collecting and washing the glassware.
Yelena and Alyra were inside, with Ricardo's wife showing something to Yelena on the Internet, while the men relaxed on the pool, floating on the edge near their drinks.
The sun had set down below the horizon, and the sky slowly turned from the sunset shades and pale afternoon blue into the ever growing dark.
The brightest and closest stars began to glitter, and the yard lighting supplanted the gone primary.
"…Are you proud of them?" Edward broke the silence both of them enjoyed.
"Never been more." Came the reply, full of certainty.
The blond chuckled and shook his head. "We're two fools. On one hand, worried to death over the boys, but on the other, proud as hell for them."
"When we die Ed, we'll be able to walk in afterlife with our heads tall, because of sons were Aryan warriors." Ricardo opened a soft smile as he spoke. "And I'll be able to tell my dad I fulfilled his expectations, I'll tell him that my son grew up right. That I was a good father like he was."
"To our sons, may they be better men than ourselves." Edward rose his glass in the air.
Both their glasses met. "Cheers to that."
Illium, Arisme's apartment.
He was not surprised to find himself in this position. In fact, he predicted it to happen as early as his first day in this assignment. Perhaps that was the Illusive Man's plan all along.
OSINT, Open Source Intelligence, was in his opinion an often-overlooked method of acquiring data on your adversaries. The Internet, or Extranet, in this case, was a rich ocean awaiting to be explored.
Mountains of data and not-so-secret info could be mined and constructed together to form a larger picture.
VIP schedules, diplomatic visits, force disposition, fleet displacements, military research. All that is glimpsed with freely available data that only needed to be interpreted and woven together by able and willing individuals.
And not only official information, but they were direct eyes on the unfiltered opinions of the masses. As the maxim holds: "Vox populi, vox Dei."
That had been his directive, and that of other agents, once he was planted in Council space. His directive however, was not to cuddle with his Asari host while watching news shows about the first contact and anything related.
The Crown Prince's visit was scheduled a week from now, but the two civilizations had already met extensively through proxies, exchanging words of goodwill, true or not, and open source information among themselves.
One side, however, already knew all that there could be known with such info.
But as his superior officer said frequently: "The situation is, and will always be, fluid as the ocean currents. You cannot fight an ocean, simply sail it as best as you can."
At first, he was reluctant, uncomfortable even. However, all those months without an android to make him company took their toll. It wasn't that he did not like Arisme, he did; but she was an alien with aqua skin and no hair.
That complicated matters, blurred too many lines. Perhaps it was a test of loyalty, a test to see with which head they would think better. In any way, that did not matter now.
Winter had arrived at their hemisphere on Illium, it did not have any snow except at the very poles, but it was chilly enough to warrant spending the weekend under a warm cover.
Arisme used his arm as a pillow, while he scooped her from behind, as they both laid on the couch. He stared dead ahead at the flatscreen, thanking his luck that the woman next to him couldn't see his blank expression.
"You know, I envy those scientists." Arisme began, turning to look slightly at him. "I should be there."
"Don't." He answered, quickly adopting a proper expression. "You got to see the real thing as it happened. These people there are simply lucky fools."
"Yes, but their names will be in history forever, while I'm a no-name researcher."
"Now, don't be like that," He enveloped her abdomen with his free arm, pulling her closer to him. "You are an accomplished academic; I forwarded several of your papers to my government, even that one about hormones and how they affect biotics."
"But you are you." She said without thinking.
"And I suppose it isn't enough?" He raised an eyebrow while questioning her, face turning serious.
Arisme hesitated for a second, biting her lip while looking into his eyes. She answered by kissing him briefly on the cheek, and turning her attention back to the flatscreen, attempting to hide the purplish hue of embarrassment that spread across her cheeks.
"I did not mean it like that..." She said quietly after a few moments, when the man could not see her face anymore.
'Flavius' swallowed back a sarcastic comment and settled for a simple and understanding: "I know you did not."
She became silent after their exchange, growing more comfortable in his arms and focusing completely on the show; listening to the account of the rescued scientist, the opinions of the Salarian, and the censored and carefully picked words of the Turian officer.
The droning of the three guests and the host at the show faded as the MID agent immersed himself into his own thoughts.
It was today, he was sure of it. It was today that his assignment would end. Perhaps this afternoon yet, or at night when they would share her bed. But his guts told him it would be today.
His heart was at his throat, he tried to blink the forming tears away, before they streaked through his face. He barely registered the passing of time, his thoughts changing from the anxiety and despair of before into wild speculations about the order to come.
His laptop was on the dinner table, next to his notebook and a glass of water. The device suddenly beeped with the sound of a received message.
His attention snapped to the workstation. "I'll be right back."
"It was warm here." Arisme made a mock sad face as he left the couch and moved to the dining room. He grinned back at her, and was glad the tears had disappeared from his eyes.
He quickly sat in front of the computer, opening the message, only to see a mess of letters, numbers, and symbols. He did not even need to see the sender address to know what it was about.
Running his cypher through the file, the message became clear. He read carefully, twice, thrice, building his resolve. He closed and erased the message, rising from his seat and returning to the living room.
"What was it?" Arisme asked as he took his place behind her again.
He settled his left arm below her head as a pillow again, while his right one embraced her. "Nothing special, family stuff."
"Alright then." She replied, dropping the issue.
As she moved to readjust herself, his embrace shifted, his right hand clasped over her mouth, while his left flew to her throat and tightened in a deadly grip.
She panicked instantly as her breath was caught up in her chest, talking into his hand while her free arm attempted to remove his hand from her airways, clawing at his forearm. Tears began to flow from her eyes as she was denied air while her trust and affection were betrayed.
He was too strong; she could have trained a lifetime for this, and she would still be too feeble to resist. Her efforts to free herself grew weaker and weaker, her tears stopped flowing, the muffled pleadings stopped.
Life left her at desperate last gasps for air. Her body slackened together with her killer's grip. Together with Arisme T'relis, the persona named 'Flavius Carter Alvarez' died too. One of the many he had assumed through the years of profession.
The agent closed her eyelids as he removed himself from the couch, and covered her body in the still warm cover. He turned off the flatscreen, and proceeded to collect all his belongings on the apartment.
They were neatly stored in the bag he arrived with, months ago. He moved to the dining room, and sent an encrypted message back, announcing the completion of the mission.
Soon enough, a Commando team would be here to dispose of the body. He doubted she would even officially 'die', similar to the other hosts housing MID agents through Asari space.
Now, as he finished packing his laptop and notebooks inside the bag, he realized it was a test of loyalty all the while within a prestigious assignment. A test no one short of the Illusive Man would devise, a test he passed with flying colors.
An imaginary hole was blown through the middle of his heart.
He left the dining room in a hurry, opening the sliding window to the apartment's veranda as he passed the lifeless corpse. Rain assaulted his face and body immediately, and he heard the thunder high in the sky.
His hands gripped the metal railing as hard as he could, his knuckles turned white. His breath caught up in his throat as he stared down the abyss.
His world came crashing down on him, and he got as far as from the railing as he could, breathing heavily. He fell on the living room's carpet flat on his butt.
He attempted to rationalize what he almost did, and a thought passed through his mind.
A thought so selfish that it surprised him, seeking only after his own feelings, or what's left of them.
He realized he wouldn't be able to heal that wound by himself, not now, not ever. Perhaps, only perhaps, there was a chance for him; tens of thousands of light years away.
Citadel, one week prior to Constantine's first formal visit.
The Asari talk-show host welcomed back their spectators after the short commercial break, returning to the main topic of 'A night with Asaleya.' Aired from the Citadel, it was the most prestigious show of its genre on Council space.
The studio was similar to any show of its type, modern decoration, rows of spectators on the background. The building of this particular studio was close to the Presidium Ring, allowing for the panel behind the host and the guests to give a panoramic view of the Wards.
"Hello and welcome back to 'A night with Asaleya'!" She sat along with her guests along a semi-circular glass table, her perfectly white teeth shone as she smiled in apparently genuine satisfaction. "As you have been accompanying us, we had a First Contact, my friends. The entire galaxy celebrates this moment, despite the troubling years and events past us; we can now look into the future with renewal and hope."
"With us tonight, as I had mentioned previously, is Dr. D'ysera, one of the scientists to be freed from Blood Pack mercenaries on the abandoned spaceport over Tuchanka." The host lightly motioned with her hand at the guest in question, the spectators on the studio applauding. "Doctor, I appreciate you could come despite the recent traumatic experiences."
"Thank you, Asaleya," Aria answered. "Indeed it has been traumatic to be in captivity under risk of death, but I think the Galaxy deserves to hear our story."
"I agree, Doctor, thank you once again. Also present tonight, is Dr. Larirn Zedril." Another round of applause followed.
"Thank you for this opportunity, Asaleya," he began. "My main area of expertise is sociology, and with much delight, Dalatrass Erlana has appointed me personally for the initial understanding of the newcomers. I hope all I learned through these weeks of exchange will help elucidate doubts on the populace."
"And together with us tonight is also Admiral Sitinia Stranis." The Asari motioned, raising applause once again. "Admiral, we are honored to receive you in our show, and we thank the gracefulness of the Turian Hierarchy for allowing you to come. Thank you."
The turian woman made a soft bow with her head, closing her eyes for a brief moment. "It is my pleasure, Ms. Saeri. Similar to Doctor Zedril's wishes, I hope to be able to clear any doubts in the galactic citizenry." She did not miss the opportunity to jab at the Republics. "The Hierarchy, above all, cherishes trust and transparency."
"Now, introductions done, we dive into the matter we've all been expecting to hear, a first person account from First Contact from the mouth of one its participants." The spectators, a mixture of the three council races and some oddities, cheered and applauded. "Dr. D'ysera, please, tell through your eyes how you experienced the event."
Aria paused, collecting her thoughts, before beginning her account. "It was sudden; I think that is the best word to describe it all. We were working normally on the project the Blood Pack had assigned to us, another day in many, when we heard the varren outside our lab stir themselves and spring off howling."
She continued, attempting to transmit her point of view as best as possible. "The vorcha guarding us did not seem fazed by that, and continued to roam through the warehouse between our workstations. Perhaps they had thought it was simply the erratic behavior of the animals, 'normal', one could say. What matters, though, is that we did not hear the varren returning."
"Many minutes had passed since they left, when the power to the stations and the lights was cut off," she said, before chuckling, shaking her head. "At the time all I could think is that I was glad we had real-time backups on the computers, else we'd be punished for losing the data we produced that day. We also kept out silence while the vorcha began to argue."
"I'm actually happy to relive those moments, they validate the fact that now I'm free." She mused, staring at the glass table smiling, before coming back to herself and looking back at Asaleya and the other guests as she continued the account. "Not long after the power was turned off, suddenly the room was lit by bright flashes of light and sharp sounds overwhelmed the vorcha that shouted at each other. They were strong enough to disorientate both the blood pack thugs and us. My hearing was ringing, and I could not hear my own thoughts."
"When we were able to regain our bearings, we saw that the lights were on again, and that all the vorcha were dead. Along with all that, there were armored soldiers, tall like turians and salarians, spread through the warehouse, both on the floor and on the catwalks." The silence as she told the happenings in the studio spoke of the attention everyone paid to her. "We panicked and scrambled for whatever thing we thought we could use to defend ourselves getting as close to each other as possible; my colleague, Ulan, even armed himself with a syringe."
"We couldn't see that it was utterly futile at the time, and that if they had wanted us dead we would have been. We were too scared for our own good," she said. "The soldiers then began rummaging through the vorchas' bodies, they collected some weapons, and the kinetic barrier emitters some of the armored henchmen had. While the others were doing this, one of them lowered his weapon on the ground and raised his hands on the air beside his head. While we could see that the gesture meant he wasn't going to harm us we were wary still."
Asaleya interrupted her account with a question. "He? So the humans have two genders?"
Zedril quickly stole the chance from the Asari and answered the question himself. "Yes, but it is more complex than that. I will get to that at one point, however."
"Our interest only grows with so many secrecy!" The audience agreed with the host. "But everything at its time. Please continue, Dr. D'ysera."
"He then pressed a button on his helmet and spoke in a language we could not understand. At the time I did not think they were aliens, I was not even thinking that much to be honest." She laughed together with the audience. "He then removed his helmet, and only then we realized they were aliens. It was like all our apprehension was replaced by shock and curiosity as he repeated his greeting in his natural voice-"
"What it was like?" Asaleya asked.
"It was clear and firm. It sounded similar to how Asari voice phonemes and sounds but it was much deeper. We were so shocked that we couldn't muster a response immediately." She explained. "He seemed to be annoyed by that, and said something else in his language. Two of their soldiers, one leaping from the catwalk, approached us. At that we tensed again, but they ignited handheld blowtorches, and we realized they were going to cut the chains."
"Once we were freed, he, who we then assumed to be the leader, approached us and extended his right hand. We began to convene if his gesture meant what it means in Asari culture too, and we decided to take the risk. Septivus, Ulan, and myself, stepped forward and shook his hand."
She continued more enthusiastically. "It was incredible, the skin texture was similar to ourselves, he even had finger nails, although cut short; five fingers with opposite thumbs. He pointed a finger at his chest, smiling, and said the name of his species. I took initiative and did the same, also naming my colleagues."
"He considered that introductions were over, and put his helmet back on, probably to communicate with their ship, he turned towards the other human soldiers at the lab too." Asaleya's eyes, and those of the audience, could not turn away from the scientist as she spoke.
"Moments later, one of the soldiers who cut the chains pulled a touchscreen device and showed us an image of a starship, while motioning between his group, the image, and us. In no time at all, we were in their medical bay receiving medical attention." She continued, looking between the cameras, the guests, and the spectators as she spoke. "We were talking to ourselves, enjoying the long sought comfort after that time in captivity, when one human walked in with another human, whom we at the time assumed to be a female, due to the dimorphism between them."
"But she wasn't?" The host asked.
"Surprisingly no!" The woman answered with enthusiasm. "It was a robot, a mech, incredibly verisimilar to a living being! The man, Chief Scientist Edgar Hill, used it to translate from his language to High Thessian, which they managed to acquire from the spaceport's systems. From there, we could communicate without impediment and we could contact the Citadel Emergency Service, which in turn contacted the Turian Navy."
Silence settled once she finished speaking, being broken by applause. "…I'm amazed; I never wondered I would see an actual First Contact in my lifetime," Asaleya said. "I thank you once again, Dr. D'ysera, for sharing your story with us."
"It is I that thank you and the channel for allowing me this opportunity."
"Now, onto the other topic, the peaceful aspect of the First Contact." The host changed topics. "Admiral, is it true that it almost turned hot, as they say?"
Sitinia tensed in her seat, and answered. "Unfortunately, yes. The Imperial Navy and the Turian Navy almost began hostilities due to a series misunderstandings."
"How that came to pass?" Zedril asked the turian.
"Our ships, a cruiser and frigate detachment, apparently closed too much on the station and the exploration ship. Their own military vessels, cruiser and frigate lengths, soon dropped out of FTL in an interception trajectory, we identified weapon's pods outside their hulls while our vessels were illuminated by their fire control systems."
"Some vessels turned towards them to bear spinal cannons, bracing for incoming fire, but the calm of the officer in charge allowed him not to escalate the situation and cause an incident of unforeseen proportions. Our vessels disengaged, with the humans doing the same, and soon we opened communications between parties."
"Thank the Goddess everything flowed smoothly. But tell us, Admiral, their technology, their ships, how they arrived at the Aralakh system?"
"The humans activated a dormant relay on their side." Gasps were heard, and the host adopted a surprised face. "Despite the violation of Citadel law, it is impossible to prosecute them based on laws that to them were inexistent. The Turian Councilor petitioned their pardon on the Council Chamber along with the Primarch of Palaven; no legal, or military, action will be taken against the Interstellar Aryan Empire for the activation of the dormant mass relay, be assured of that."
"That is comforting, after the fiasco of the Turian-Raloi War." Aria commented.
"I am not authorized to speak regarding the Horn Chasm Incident." The Admiral replied, not losing her cool, but glaring towards the Asari. "Nonetheless, their ships do not utilize element zero to produce electric power, and consequently they do not produce mass effect fields."
The audience whispered in confusion and curiosity. "…How?"
"It is simple actually, they have developed along other lines. They did not have access to Prothean archeotechnology. Life adapts, no matter the circumstance."
"If they did not have any contact with Prothean technology or artifact, it means…"
"It means that the Orion-Cygnus Arm, as the humans call it, is devoid of traces from the Prothean civilization, save the single relay, if the Protheans built them, that is. It opens enormous questions, in any case." The Salarian interrupted Asaleya.
"Interesting, indeed." The host commented, then turning towards a camera addressing the audience and the guests. "We'll now go for a short commercial break and return right back with your invaluable inputs, again, thank you for your presence here tonight."
Citadel, Presidium.
Their shuttle, along with a handful of other Fencer-class frigates from the 175th Fleet, had landed long ago on the Presidium docks.
Admiral Erwin's four dreadnoughts and other escorts stood at the ready more than a hundred thousand kilometers away from the Citadel, near the inner edges of the Nebula, where the circle of Mass Relays poured ships in and out of the system.
Despite the climate of peace, Sunburn torpedo tubes were filled with cold propellant, fighters on both sides were fueled and armed, and the retracted turrets inside the human ships had rounds loaded into their barrels albeit their rails were powered down.
At the other side, making no movement that may be considered hostile, stood the Citadel Defense Fleet, with its assortment of vessels hailing from the three Council races. But nonetheless taking the same pre-emptive measures.
On the actual station, reporters and journalists, on the many different levels of the Presidium, tumbled over themselves to get a better glimpse at the two aliens who now walked through a secure passage heading the Council Tower, being escorted by numerous Royal Guards.
Andromeda's robes were long enough to cover completely her feet, exceeding her height and lingering on the pristinely cleaned ground behind her. The only parts of her skin exposed were her face and hands.
Elysian figures and designs permeated the robes, crimson and gold shared space. She sported perfect, and almost imperceptible, makeup and nail polish, fitting for the moment and Andromeda's position.
A silver tiara encrusted in glittering gems was placed on her hair, complementing the hairdo, with two small teldar earrings shining amber on her ears.
Constantine differed; instead of a civilian suit, he wore his Army Dress Uniform, much like the royalties of ages past. Dark green, adorned with service and qualification ribbons, including his most prized Army Aviator shoulder insignia, dispensing the cap but with the ceremonial saber on his belt.
"I've checked the news by myself, and intelligence reports with dad, before coming," Andromeda began, looking straight ahead. "They have taken the news of secret first contact with the Asari in varying degrees of criticism and praise. Some governments, you know which ones, have expressed sharp disapproval and deep concern over the bold initiative taken by the Republics, while others have soundly approved the move, citing disastrous previous contacts as precedence and leveraging criticism towards the two other Council nations."
"And the public in general?" Constantine asked, looking towards her.
She returned his gaze and answered. "They're pretty much similar, many public figures, narrative drivers, and celebrities have expressed the same sort of opinions. Of course, the diversity of opinions is much greater within Asari individuals, but on average, it has been largely positive. Most are simply glad the Galaxy is not at war again."
"That's good enough." Constantine nodded. "Being here today is already a setback as it is, at least we could save our own yet-to-be-built reputation; let them have the blame, and let the chasm between them grow."
Many moments later, Andromeda spoke suddenly, her smile clear on her voice. "Truth be told, I was surprised you'd come out in the open with it."
"The truth is the best lie," he joked. "But we had to do it, in reality. We made the official version public to the Empire at large, as is our duty, it would be simply a question of time until truth got out. The unofficial is known only to trusted individuals, we burned the treaty paper as soon as Irissa was in orbit; she doesn't have a copy after all."
"So, in sum, your actual treaty is held because you wish to do so, the Republics are criticized by the other Council members furthering the divide between them, and are simultaneously praised by outlying nations, including the Sesoln and other Salarian clans." She said, taking into account all the results. "And we are thrusted into the Galaxy as peace seekers, taking action against galactic politics and historic mistakes."
"Pretty much." The man said with a cocky smirk. "The situation was sort of…precarious, but we managed to catch everyone unawares and come out on top; mom managed to shoot down the idea of you people annexing planets, thank God, and I even received a private letter from Nizen congratulating us on the move, not even she had expected it to develop out like it did, but she played along without any instruction, she's not all bad after all."
They entered an elevator, together with four Royal Guards, who quickly formed a wall between them and the exit. "How do you think she'll react?" Constantine asked.
Andromeda feigned ignorance. "Who?"
Constantine made a frown. "You know who."
She dropped the innocent look, assuming a haughty smirk. "Assuming you'll two meet privately during these welcoming festivals they do, which I personally find a stupid tradition, not to mention a waste of money, she will be livid at you."
The Princess continued, turning her gaze away from Constantine's face and checking her nails one last time. "You have took control away from her twice, first releasing the half-truth of your alliance, and contacting the Council nations on your own, without their foreknowledge."
"No matter now…You look nice."
"Thanks." She smiled. "I feel like I'm wrapped in a stage curtain, though."
They reached their destination not three levels below the Council Chamber; a large room in soft yellow ambient light, medium brown banners hang on the walls displaying the Citadel Council emblem in white on them, running from the ceiling to the floor.
A single window encompassing the entire left wall displayed the five open arms of the Citadel itself, bustling with activity and lights, and beyond the arms, the nebula spread far.
As soon as the door opened, Constantine's left hand rested gently over the sword's hilt, both aliens walked forward in unison.
The three Councilors stood on the center of the room awaiting their approach. While both Crown Prince and Princess Consort advanced, the guards took to the shadows, out of general vision, similar to the Spectres on the room.
When they reached a respectable distance, near the two seats made ready for them, Constantine spoke. "The Interstellar Aryan Empire and the Elysian Commonwealth recognize the sovereignty of the Citadel Council and its associate members."
Irissa, who stood at the center of the host of representatives, wasted no time. "The Citadel Council, and its associate members, recognize the sovereignty of the Interstellar Aryan Empire and the Elysian Commonwealth."
Herilus, the Turian Councilor, took the chance to speak as all parties took their respective seats. "Your Majesties, I am glad we have gathered here today, there is much to elucidate and know about each other, and many matters of state to discuss. I am anxious to hear your thoughts about the Citadel itself, however."
"We appreciate your hospitality, and the privacy provided on our arrival." Andromeda answered, all eyes turning to her as her own gaze lingered on the extended wards outside. "It is interesting, the concept of a multinational megalopolis also holding the nerve center of your alliance, and most recently the financial heart as well."
"A diplomatic compromise, your Highness. Now financial as well, due to regrettable circumstances." Herilus elaborated on her answer. "The position of the Citadel in relation to the galactic polities and relay network is privileged."
"Beyond that, the Citadel is a neutral zone for armed conflict." Irissa added, locking gazes with the slightly taller being. "Irrespective of relations, friendly or hostile, between governments and entities, armed conflict is not to be prosecuted within the Nebula."
"Nothing bars unarmed confrontation, however." The Salarian Councilor, appointed three years ago by Dalatrass Erlana commented.
"Your Highness, Prince Constantine," Irissa continued, ignoring the jab made by her peer, directing her speech towards the Prince. "We have a degree of knowledge of your civilization through the information graciously shared by your earlier envoys, but the way you organize your politics is most interesting. I'd appreciate if you would enlighten us with a further look through your own words."
"With pleasure, Councilor." Constantine replied the alien with a gentle smile. "The name of our nation may be misleading to some. An empire is defined by an aggregate of nations or peoples ruled by a single government; while indeed we are formed by different nations, the process which the Empire as it stands today is viewed as a unification rather than conquest. It could be defined too as a Federation and as Republic, if one looked merely into its institutions of power."
"While indeed we have centralized institutions, planets have sufficient self-governance." He went further explaining. "For example, the residing populations elect their own local representatives, which dictate their own laws as long as they do not conflict with a pre-existing federal law, postulated by the Senate in accordance with the Constitution, the citizens also elect executive officials for administration of their own cities. Their police forces are also organized by those regional governments."
"De-centralized governance when dealing with the needs of interstellar governments is a must in many occasions." The Salarian diplomat commented in agreement, while also choosing the small and brief silence to jab again at his Asari colleague. "It is peculiar however, Crown Prince, the way you balance democratic elements with autocratic ideals."
Irissa quickly mustered a defense, glancing at him with the corner of her eye. "Autocracy and democracy need not to be opponents on basis of pure ideology; polities should cooperate when their common interests coincide."
"Irrespective of that, how does one achieves citizenship?" Herilus questioned. "The Hierarchy, as you know, grants full rights after completion of boot camp for Turians, and at the auxiliary military service for client races."
Constantine answered immediately. "At birth, to individuals born of an Aryan father and an Elysian mother. There is no other way."
Andromeda added shortly after. "The Elysian Commonwealth, however, does not recognize the concept of citizenship, only inheritance and possession, as it is preceded the concept of state itself, also rejected."
The turian's mandibles moved as his eyes grew wider, denoting genuine curiosity and surprise. "Why so?" he asked.
"Despite claims alleging that the state as an entity protects private property, the state in itself eventually violates private property and governs through inefficient methods." The Elysian explained, eyeing the three aliens in the room. "Only through common individual cooperation true efficiency and wealth can be achieved; as such, the Commonwealth represents no august body or territory, but rather the economic interests of all Elysian companies, wherever they may operate and whatever their size."
"A commerce guild of sorts, then." The Turian concluded.
"It can be seen as that, and as the Councilor said," she turned to Irissa, and opened a smile. "Polities can cooperate when their interests coincide."
Zakera Ward, Citadel.
People of many species came and went by them, on with their lives and routines; also paying attention to the fanfare the human royalty visit had caused on the media.
The air differed greatly from the fresh breeze one found in virtually every settle world through the Galaxy, filtered and re-filtered through the life support systems. Neon lights and personally displayed ads populated the many streets and alleyways.
Instead of the long dresses many Asari chose to wear on the Citadel, Mayrithia and Nyava chose simple casual wear. They walked side by side, with clothing store bags on their hands, a normal sight as any other.
"He's close now, today's surprisingly his day off." Mayrithia commented, interacting with her omni-tool.
"Yeah, such a coincidence." Nyava snorted, looking around to the citizens with their eyes glued to flatscreens.
Mayrithia laughed, and continued. "He's got a red facial paint scheme like his daughter. 52 years old, so I think it's better if you go for it."
Nyava opened a smirk. "Don't want to be seen with a geezer?"
Mayrithia cheeks turned purple. "It's not like that, it's just that…you know, you're a Matron and all."
"It is fine, I'm just annoying you." She said, handing her bags over to Mayrithia.
The maiden have a second look to the bags on her hands; they arrived at their destination. "Huh…about the bags, do you think they will be mad?"
"They gave us the credits and mission. What we spend them on is our problem as long as we succeed." Nyava answered rolling her eyes, as they stopped by the club's entrance. "Now, go fetch the skycar and wait for me at the upper street."
"Good luck."
With that, the younger asari departed, while the Spectre entered the club. She soon began to hear the music while climbing the steps.
Unlike 'Afterlife', most clubs within the Citadel had no entrance lines, and the bouncers were more laid back. She stepped in, taking in the ambient around her. A full dancing floor, chatting, the sound of the gambling machines above.
Private booths on upper levels, as well as tables on the ground level, and the long bar counter. She quickly located her objective.
She strode forward, taking the vacant seat next to the turian man. Kalius Laevidas, C-Sec constable of the Network division, specializing in cybercrime.
The man was lumped forward on his seat, a cup of turian dextro spirit, taking occasional sips.
"Illium Brandy, 20 years, no ice, please." The bartender nodded, and quickly brought her drink, filling a square cup with green liquid.
The alien male, glanced at her drink for a second too longer, and quickly turned back to his own cup. Nyava, took a swig, and spoke, injecting mirth on her voice.
"Surprised that an asari drinks without ice?"
He opened what passed for a turian smile. "You're the first I've seen do it today, but it's not too rare."
"And here I thought I was original," she chuckled together with him. "So you've been here a lot?"
"Hell, for the best part of the decade." He shook his head.
"Drinking to forget?"
He looked down, focusing on his drink. "To remember the mistakes, there's a lot of them out there."
The bartender refilled her drink. "I know exactly the feeling. In fact, I'm here reminiscing my latest one."
"Children?"
Nyava nodded slowly, elaborating on the alien's guess. "She's a dancer on Chora's Den, I tried to convince that those clubs aren't the place for her, that the people there are bad stuff. But I guess few can listen to the experience of others."
"My own girl, she…" The off-duty officer hesitated for a second, but he took another swig of the drink and continued. "She took all the wrong decisions she could take. I blew up on her on all of them, drove her away…she's now somewhere between the Terminus systems and the DMZ. I haven't talked to her in a long time, but I know she's still out there."
"They'll come around, that's what I hope at least." Nyava said.
"A drink to that. The children that we love."
They chatted more, sharing experiences; real in the turian's case, and fabricated in Nyava's. Soon enough, after a bathroom break he took, he began to feel sleepy and tired. And in no time at all, after paying the bill, the asari supported her supposedly drunk friend into a skycar, taking him home.
Or so everyone else thought.
A/N: Take care when meeting new people in clubs. See you all in 2018, have a merry Christmas! Please leave a review if you can too.