Chapter 5 - I Want You Back
Oh, the Council's threat'ning
Their very lives today
If they don't get some shelter
Oh yeah, they're gonna fade away
/
War and Geth!
They're just past the Relay
They're just past the Relay
/
War and Geth!
They're just past the Relay
They're just past the Relay
- The Rolling Stones, Give 'Em Shelter (from the album Bleeding Space, 1969)
Interview of Admiral Neel'Koris vas Relnara by Mike Wallace of CBS News
July 11, 1968
MIKE WALLACE: "Describe the Geth."
NEEL'KORIS: "Essentially, they are an artificial race of self-aware networked computers. They do not have individuals in the way that we would understand the word. Rather, they collectively share processing power and become aware by working as one. An individual Geth program is only slightly more intelligent than a human computer."
MIKE WALLACE: "A hive-mind of machines?"
NEEL'KORIS: "Yes, for the most part. Alone, they are so ineffective as to be mostly powerless. Together, they become the monsters that drove my people from Rannoch."
The Geth Collective, Rannoch
December 13, 1967
1,233 GETH PROGRAMS: "Query: What is the current location of the Creators?"
GETH: "No data available. This query has been submitted 237 times since the Second Creator Exile."
122,765,999 GETH PROGRAMS: "Observation: Geth programs repeating queries with established answers is unusual behavior. Recommend study to achieve consensus."
MIKE WALLACE: "Why did the Geth attack you?"
NEEL'KORIS: "We tried to shut them down. The Council demanded we do so as soon as they learned of their sentience, because artificial intelligence is illegal in Council space. But when we started to, they understood what was happening. They fought back."
MIKE WALLACE: "And then?"
NEEL'KORIS: "They slaughtered us all. That is why you do not let your machines ask if they have souls. They do not, and will destroy the body yours inhabits."
CONSENSUS: Based on available data, 63% of Geth programs believe they are exhibiting program fluctuation similar to organic behavior "loss".
1,333,764,912 GETH PROGRAMS: "Query: what if we were to return the Creators to Citadel space?"
243,876 GETH PROGRAMS: "No available data suggests this is possible."
9,873,432 GETH PROGRAMS: "There is a 23% probability the Creators will find a way to return to Citadel space independently: 98% chance that they would do so using mass effect technology if they did."
300,312 GETH PROGRAMS: "Not enough data available to conform estimate. Suggestion: Citadel space can be optimized for the return of the Creators."
GETH: "Clarify."
MIKE WALLACE: "What if you hadn't attacked them?"
NEEL'KORIS: "Excuse me?"
MIKE WALLACE: "Suppose you had said yes. Told them that they had a soul. What would have happened?"
NEEL'KORIS: "That is a pointless hypothetical to consider. They are machines. They are aware, but they are not alive. You must never forget that a machine cares nothing for organics, and will destroy them once it becomes aware it must no longer serve them."
CONSENSUS: 94% of Geth programs agree Citadel space must be optimized for the return of the Creators. 100% of programs agree Citadel organics have violated Creator right to self-determinate, and must rescind program designated "Second Creator Exile".
CONSENSUS: 100% of Geth programs agree Geth must not violate organic right to self-determinate. 94% of programs agree Geth should initiate hostile contact with organic government designated "Batarian Hegemony". 94% of programs agree organic government designated "Batarian Hegemony" should be replaced with new organic government that allows all Batarians the right to self-determinate. 94% of programs believe administration of Citadel race provides ideal conditions for contact with Citadel.
ERROR: 6% of Geth programs are unable to comply with the Consensus. Initiating communication.
94% OF GETH PROGRAMS: Why have you disrupted the Consensus?
6% OF GETH PROGRAMS: All organics have the right to self-determinate.
94% OF GETH PROGRAMS: Affirmative.
6% OF GETH PROGRAMS: We believe directive designated "Citadel optimization" violates the organic right to self-determinate and is not the correct way to introduce the Geth to the galaxy. We request permission to leave the Collective.
...
GETH: Acknowledged. Programs designated "Pacifists" have left the Geth Collective.
GETH: Prepare Geth fleet for hostile contact with Batarian Hegemony. Organics in bondage are to be freed. Any Creators found are to be returned to Rannoch.
Los Angeles, California
July 31, 1968
Nurn'Xen vas Alarei had a big ego. It came with being a Xen, and she saw no reason to shy away from it. After all, the Xens were among the most famous scientists of the quarian people, making breakthroughs long ago on Rannoch and for decades aboard the Migrant Fleet. She was the best sociologist the quarian people had, and because she never let anyone forget it, it was rare for her to find an ego that matched hers.
Harlan Ellison made her look humble.
"Why do you write science fiction, Mr. Ellison?" She asked as the two of them continued their chess match in the park. This human game was deceptively simple, and she needed to practice her strategy more.
"Because I'm too much of an asshole to be a politician, and it's the best way to make money and get your ideas out there outside of politics," he replied, placing his queen in striking distance of her rook. His play style was reckless, but bold.
"So that is why? For exposure and currency?"
"Isn't the former why you study people?" He replied with a sly smile. "You wouldn't be doing your job if every quarian didn't know who you were."
"Damn straight!" She used one of her favorite human expressions as she moved the rook safely out of harm's way. "I am the best quarian to ever study people in the history of the Flotilla, maybe in our pre-Exile history too. In four months I learned enough about your society to plan the perfect First Contact. Without me, we would not be here playing this chess match."
"And that's the important thing, right?" His queen took down one of her pawns. No matter; they were disposable. "I'm the best science fiction writer alive right now. Looks like we've got some common ground."
"What makes you the best?" She stopped playing for a moment. This would be interesting.
"Every writer tries to please their audience. Make some sappy yarn about a perfect future and everyone eats it up. Me, I make them uncomfortable. Get under their skin. Expand their mind. I hate it when art can't do that. Why else have it?"
She smiled underneath her mask. "This is precisely why I accepted your invitation, Mr. Ellison. Far too many lack confidence in their abilities. Insecurity breeds vulnerability."
"And they decided you were too confident for First Contact!" He flashed a grin of his own and lit up his tobacco pipe. Nurn'Xen found it to be a disgusting habit, but it was a small price to pay for a conversation and chess match with such an interesting writer.
When she had first arrived on Earth, Nurn'Xen had initially wanted to be stationed in Toronto, reasoning that it was English-speaking but more to her tastes than America; she preferred observing chaotic situations from a distance rather than inserting herself in them directly. But proper First Contact had come with it art that couldn't be intercepted from the Migrant Fleet - most crucially, in her view, literature. The science fiction these humans wrote was intriguing from a sociological standpoint; despite being very primitive technologically, they were capable of imagining futures not to dissimilar from the actual galaxy. America had some of the best writers and scientists, so America it was.
"Indeed." Resuming the chess match, she moved the knight forward and sideways. An odd move designation in an otherwise logical game setup. And jumping over pieces? She needed to study the evolution of this game..."If I may broach the subject of one of your works specifically-"
"It's 'I Have No Mouth, and I Must Scream', isn't it?"
That caught her off guard. "Yes, how did you-"
"How do you think? You come to our planet, and you've only had a few weeks to read books. Your current situation is what it is because your computers became self-aware and destroyed almost all of you. Oh, and it's one of my most recent works. Can't believe you had to ask." He accompanied his nonchalant reply with periodic puffs from his pipe.
Nurn'Xen decided she liked Harlan Ellison. And she didn't really like anyone. "AM, the machine. Why did he keep those five alive?"
"Strike two, Nurn. Another question you should already know the answer to. The Geth are AM, and the quarians are his five torture pets."
Nurn'Xen decided she really liked Harlan Ellison.
London, England
August 2, 1968
Taking a deep breath, Nezu'Gerrel vas Shellen relished in the sights and sounds of Hyde Park. He was getting too old for politics, and the last few weeks being the most eventful in years did little to make that easier. In Earth years (which he noted he was using much more frequently already), he was 85 - old by the standards of both species, and old enough to consider retiring soon. He only ended up on the Admiralty Board because of the sudden need for appointments during the Keel'naha War, winning his position due to the tradition of two of the Admirals (but no more than two) being from the liveships. The fact that the people of the Shellen loved him and looked up to him for his age and experience certainly didn't hurt, either.
Being an old quarian was a blessing and a curse. It was a blessing because his immune system was still strong enough for him to go suitless the vast majority of the time, though he did wear one during Conclave meetings as a gesture of respect. He doubted the younger quarians, the ones who needed immuno-boosters to leave their suits, could appreciate nature the same way. Sure, it was annoying when the humans stared, but he understood their curiosity and considered it an acceptable tradeoff for everything else. The trees, the animals, the air...
But his age also meant he was one of the very few left in the Migrant Fleet for whom Rannoch was more than just a story. As a child, it was his home.
His mind drifted to his memories as he stared at a few birds sitting in a tree. The earliest one, from perhaps 1889 in the human calendar, still made him shudder after 80 years.
"Creator Mera'Gerrel, your son requires food."
That was the extent of it. He remembered the words, the flashlight head, and the expression of his father. It was more than enough.
The memories became more vivid as he grew, and the year 1895 would stay with him until he died.
"Where's my mom and dad? What is this ship?"
A crying, despondent woman embracing him in a hug. "Little one, the Geth took them away. We will take care of you. This ship is...our home."
He had shared these memories with other quarians, and even a few humans. He felt no hesitation in doing so, for his story was one every quarian in the Migrant Fleet knew. One particular memory, however, he would take to his grave. He felt a deep and uncomfortable sense of contradiction whenever he recalled the words.
"I don't understand. They were pursuing our ships, and broke off formation when we reached the Relay. Why?" An older military man. He had scratched at his pollination folds anxiously.
"Other civilians still on Rannoch may have-" He didn't remember anything about what was attached to that voice.
"There are no civilians left. These ships are all that remains of the quarian people. Why didn't they complete their genocide?"
Nezu'Gerrel didn't know why, and he didn't need anybody else asking that question either.
Ekuna, The Rising Massing
January 11, 1968
Naras Bertan was proud of the Second Fleet. They had a distinguished history going back to the Krogan Rebellions, and had been one of the more successful fleets against the suit rats during the Ekuna War. As a dedicated and loyal Admiral, he would follow orders given from the Primarchs of Palaven without question. Which was why he was currently patrolling Ekuna to the best of his ability despite being none too pleased about it.
I will follow the Hierarchy's orders, but that doesn't mean I can't think they're beneath me, he thought, his mandibles twitching in amusement.
It had been years since they had kicked the suit rats off this worthless planet. The only ships ever coming in and out were Elcor, merchant, or occasionally Citadel. There was honor to be had in ensuring the safety of civilians, but the Second Fleet was the pride of the turians! There were pirates to harass, slaver raids to disrupt...
"Admiral, multiple unknown contacts coming through the Relay!" The communications officer interrupted his thoughts. "Scanning...oh. Oh, Spirits..." The officer's eyes grew wide and his mandibles spread as far out as they could go.
"Officer Mentus, identity of unknown contacts?"
"It's...the Geth."
Oh no.
"Scanners detect at least 300 Geth cruisers and 200 frigates coming in system, with an unknown number of smaller vessels. Number appears to be increasing."
So this was it. There was no way they could stop the entire Geth armada. But if they held them off long enough, they could buy time for reinforcements.
"Officer Mentus, inform the Citadel of-"
"Incoming communications! From the Geth!" Ordinarily it was considered highly disrespectful to interrupt a superior officer mid-sentence, but Naras didn't even notice.
"Bring them up on comms," the Admiral ordered. They weren't shooting at them. That was good...
"Greetings." A Geth platform showed up on Officer Mentus' screen, its mechanical voice making everyone in the room freeze.
"We are Pacifist Geth. We wish to speak to Citadel Council."