Author's Note: From chapter 5 onward, each chapter is focused on a "theme" rather than a specific time. The story may jump back forth between months and years as I cover each aspect of First Contact and its implications. This chapter, for example, focuses on the United States and its presidential election, with some other bits sprinkled in.
And just to make it easier, here's the quarian immigrant quota under the terms of the Geneva Agreement:
* United States and USSR each receive 500,000 quarian immigrants.
* India receives 200,000 immigrants (not popular with USA/USSR, quarians insisted).
* NATO and Eastern Bloc countries + close allies of both receive 100,000 immigrants each.
* Other nations can receive no more than 50,000 immigrants.
* People's Republic of China and South Africa excluded from receiving immigrants (more on this in later chapters).
* Remainder of quarians are aboard Migrant Fleet or settled in soon-to-be solar colonies
Chapter 6 - Fortunate Son
Excerpt from Hope, Fear and Aliens on the Campaign Trail '68 by Hunter S. Thompson:
None of those three cared about the quarians. Especially not George Wallace. An obvious statement, but one necessary to cut past both the saccharine and the vile. For all of them, the thought process was short-sighted, and always about how the quarians could help them get elected. Perhaps a violent election year wasn't the best time for an alien visit...
...getting into Wallace's campaign was easier than I thought. They weren't amateurs, but they were out of their depth; the big man himself was the only one who seemed to know entirely what he was doing. The staff didn't always agree with that, and for some time the ugly, irradiated spectre of Curtis LeMay hung over all of them. They were sure he was a shit choice and that George really should've thought his Vice President pick through better.
But then the quarians came, and the man who couldn't shut up about how wondrous nuclear bombs were suddenly couldn't shut up about how much he hated suit rats. They gave him plenty of ammunition when they started moving to America too. Unfortunately I was unable to confirm that he was the inventor of the "suit nigger" epithet, though I continue to maintain this belief.
The New York Times, September 30, 1968:
"We're All Serving On The Same Ship"
Housing projects and other low-income residences have been embraced by quarian immigrants.
The conditions of Bronx River Houses could be generously described as modest. Completed in 1951 and meant to address the City's growing housing problem, the low-income complex has in recent years fallen into decay and disrepair. Nela'Shar vas Tonbay and her fellow quarian immigrants are determined to change that.
"I wanted to live in a big city, because it reminds me of the Flotilla," Nela'Shar told the Times. "Quarians are used to making do with very little space. Even before the Second Exile, we often lived in substandard housing when making our Pilgrimage."
Her words ring true: 85% of quarian immigrants to Earth have chosen to reside in urban areas, according to statistics provided by the Migrant Fleet (Flotilla). Natural engineers and instinctively unselfish due to their species' unique circumstances, most have taken to improving the conditions of their communities in addition to their normal jobs.
"In our culture, everyone is expected to 'chip in'," Nela explains. (Quarians have made no secret of finding human expressions quite strange.) "We don't need as much sleep as humans, and even children help with maintenance on the Fleet. When we learned about the conditions of public housing here in America, we knew we could help."
By day, Nela'Shar works at the WEXQ rock radio station in Manhattan, helping to bring its technology up to galactic standards ("I'll be there a long time," she notes). A musical enthusiast, she describes Earth music as simple and primitive compared to the rest of the galaxy, but also very charming. While her colleagues initially greeted her with skepticism, they have since come to value her work ethic and technical expertise.
"She's incredible," says station manager and frequent DJ Patrick Watson. "After a week of working here she already knew more about radios than all of us put together. Sometimes I'll let her on the mic and our listeners love it."
Employers around the Big Apple report similar stories. The New York City Transit Authority has hired numerous quarian engineers to oversee upgrades and improvements on the subway lines in anticipation of their eventual replacement with "mass effect" technology, projected to take several decades. In just two months, maintenance backlogs have all but disappeared.
Are the quarians eager to make a good first impression? Perhaps, but Nela'Shar thinks it goes deeper than that.
"Our people have been wandering the stars for decades and now we have a home, even if it ultimately turns out to be a temporary one," she says. "We're all serving on the same ship, and we have a duty to help each other."
After the nations of the world agreed on quarian immigrant quotas, most pledged to provide high-quality accommodations for their new alien arrivals, and were surprised when the quarians declared them unnecessary. Space restrictions on the Migrant Fleet mean that a dozen individuals living in an area slightly smaller than a one-bedroom apartment was not uncommon (only recently have things become more comfortable thanks to Earth immigration). And as the outcasts of the galaxy, a surprising number find themselves drawn to those society discriminates against, such as the overwhelmingly black population of Bronx River Houses.
"It's complicated," Nela distractedly says as she works on pipe maintenance in her apartment building. "Solidarity, maybe? We know what it's like to have a legal system that doesn't respect your rights, and to have people treat you harshly because of the way you were born. It's not something we have a lot of tolerance for, and now we can do something about it."
Montgomery, Alabama
September 14, 1968
"What do we want?"
"JUSTICE!"
"When do we want it?"
"NOW!"
The angry chants washed over Zaal'Doran nar Relnara as he relished in the energy and righteous fury of the crowd. He yelled with the rest, because he was glad to finally be able to yell.
He tried to keep the last few years out of his mind. Pilgrimage to Illium interrupted by the expulsion of his entire people from the galaxy. The forced journey into the unknown.
His bondmate...
No. He shook his head and tried to focus on the march. The anger he felt towards the Council races was impotent here when directed against them. It would only be an outlet for the protests he and others could never utter when they were taken away. But protests against these oppressors, on Earth? Yes, he could do that. He could especially do that when he was assigned to live in Alabama, where "suit rat" was a phrase quickly being embraced by prejudiced pale-skinned humans everywhere.
He was marching with some dark-skinned humans and a few other quarians to the Alabama State Capitol. A young dark-skinned man had been stopped by police while driving home and beaten nearly to death. The officer who had attacked the poor soul faced no consequences. In fact, the damned chief of police had called him a "fine policeman doing his duty."
The Admiralty Board could go fuck itself. "Refraining from political activity" was not something his conscience could abide. He had told the human protesters about the discrimination he had faced before the Second Exile. How C-Sec officers arrested and detained him the first time he came to the Citadel for the crime of being quarian. How merchants on Ilium charged him almost twice as much for the same products as other species. How half the bars and restaurants in the galaxy refused to serve him.
And now, on the other side of that very same galaxy, in an undiscovered spaceflight civilization, they had found a mirror image of their situation in America's treatment of those not "white".
Useless Bosh'tets, all five of them, he thought as the protest rounded a corner and the State Capitol came into view. No self-respecting quarian could possibly consider "uplifting" these humans without correcting the disgusting discrimination. It was just too much like their own situation, and combined with their naturally emotional psychology-
He stopped thinking and stared at the sight awaiting them. Dozens of police officers armed with melee weapons, gunpowder pistols and ferocious versions of the "canine" Earth animal. A older pale-skinned man - the highest-ranking officer, Zaal assumed - stepped forward and greeted them with an angry scowl.
"You damn niggers and suit rats ain't marching on the Capitol," he growled. "Get out of here now before give you all the worst beating of your lives."
As he stepped to the front of the crowd, Zaal'Doran nar Relnara reflected that he felt remarkably confident in the decisions that led him there. He and the other quarians also moving forward had discussed this beforehand. Nonviolent disobedience was all well and good, but self-defense was just as important.
The officers readied their weapons as the quarians positioned themselves in front of the human protesters. A few of them had twisted smiles on their faces, vaguely reminding Zaal of the look a krogan had when a battle or challenge had begun. Those smiles quickly vanished when the quarians' arms began to glow orange, their omni-tools switching to the rarely used but extremely effective melee weapon.
"Why are you doing this?" He calmly asked. "Your governor would not-"
"Albert Brewer ain't here to pull you out of the fire, suit rat," the officer replied. A different sort of fire was clearly evident in his tone. "The state of Alabama will not tolerate a bunch of commies from outer space telling the fine men in our law enforcement how to do their jobs. Go on, get, before ya'll do something you'll regret."
"Our suits have kinetic barriers, bosh'tets!" Zaal defiantly retorted, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Your guns won't do anything against us, and these blades will cut through your skin like a slice of bread. If we fall, we're taking some of you with us."
A long, tense silence hung over the air for about fifteen seconds, which felt like fifteen hours to everyone in the crowd of protesters anxiously holding their breath. The officer in front looked at Zaal with what seemed like...amusement?
Oh, it's on now.
"OFFICERS, DISPERSE THE CROWD!" The man had barely finished his order when the dogs and policemen began to attack, and the melee began.
The vast majority of the human protestors - often old or very young and almost universally unarmed - began fleeing, and most successfully escaped except for a few unlucky victims of the canines and truncheons. The quarians in the crowd who hadn't stepped forward earlier caught on and started attacking as well. The officers, expecting a bloodbath, were surprised to find themselves relatively evenly matched. Vicious dogs fell to the ground whimpering in pain as their limbs were severed by the omni-blades, with their masters doing little better. As Zaal promised, the gunpowder bullets did nothing to their barriers, though the few stray shots that hit the protesters only served to strengthen the resolve of the quarians. He cringed as he heard the sound of shattering glass throughout the impromptu battlefield; a mask breaking was not a death sentence, but for most of them exposure without immuno-boosters would mean at least a week in a sterile room.
And then something happened which would turn a minor episode into the most famous quarian-related incident of 1968. One quarian in the fight, Betra'Oor vas Keelne, concluded that they would lose soon as the officers firing pistols put them away and joined their comrades with melee weapons. Not aware of the agreement among the others beforehand not to bring guns to the protest (especially not non-human guns), she pulled out her Vindicator IV shotgun and started shooting the officers.
The results were quick and devastating. Carefully avoiding friendly fire, Betra'Oor killed at least a dozen officers in about three minutes; they were easy prey to mass effect-powered slugs. The quarians had little time to relish in their victory, all quickly fleeing to the Keelne - the only spaceship in Montgomery and their only hope of making it out alive. They encountered a few more enemies (as they all thought of them now) along the way, all of which were dispatched with no casualties.
As the Keelne fled the scene, the ramifications of its occupants' actions spread far and wide with astonishing speed. Americans of the 60s, already quickly absorbing news and opinion via television, were now getting their first taste of FTL-speed communication. Because of this, all but the most isolated regions of the country knew about the incident by the end of the day.
Quarians were starting to wonder if First Contact with humanity was the best idea.
Quarian Conclave Votes, September 16, 1968:
Motion to condemn actions of Montgomery police and quarian attackers on September 14, 1968: DEFEATED
AMENDED: Motion to condemn actions of Montgomery police on September 14, 1968: APPROVED
Motion to prohibit all quarians from engaging in human political activity, including protests: DEFEATED (ADMIRALTY BOARD OVERRIDE: FAILED with 2 No votes [Nezu'Gerrel, Nurn'Xen]).
Motion to condemn American Independent Party and Presidential candidate George Wallace for anti-quarian rhetoric: APPROVED
Private Vid Call Between Mera'Kuun vas Usela and Nurn'Xen vas Alarei, September 17, 1968:
MERA'KUUN: What the hell were you two thinking?! Do you have any idea what you have done?
NURN'XEN: No, not really.
MERA'KUUN [enraged]: NO? THEN WHY IN THE NAME OF THE ANCESTORS DID YOU VOTE NO?!
NURN'XEN: I can't speak for that foolish old man, but I saw it as the most efficient way to ensure that the new data I am receiving will be dynamic and worthy of study.
MERA'KUUN: What exactly is that supposed to mean?
NURN'XEN [smiling beneath her mask]: I want to see what will happen. It will be...fascinating.
The White House
September 30, 1968
PRESIDENT LYNDON B. JOHNSON: And you're sure this "exile" has good intel?
FBI DIRECTOR J. EDGAR HOOVER: With all due respect, Mr. President, remember who you're talking too.
JOHNSON: With all due respect, Mr. Hoover, get to the damn point.
HOOVER: Before the then-Migrant Fleet's forced expulsion from the galaxy, it would occasionally exile those who they deemed had endangered the existence of the Fleet. Against strong protests from the Admiralty Board, these exiles were returned to the Migrant Fleet by the Council after the former lost the Keel'naha War. The vast majority of them were dumped on an unnamed world with a few years' worth of food about a month before the quarians made First Contact with us.
JOHNSON: Makes sense. So why are we talking about this guy?
HOOVER: After the recall of all quarians began, he killed another non-exile and assumed his identity by changing into his suit in a sterile room. A few voice modifications, and nobody can tell the difference when he has his suit on. He hates the Admiralty Board and is more than willing to 'cause chaos', which he think means helping us.
JOHNSON: Alright, I said to get to the point. What's he offering us?
HOOVER: Weapons. Thousands of them.
[Pause.]
JOHNSON: You're shitting me.
HOOVER: Most of them are not of quarian design. He collected them before he was exiled, but was vague on the details of how he managed to hold onto them. He wants us to make him disappear, but with regular contact with our agents to get him food paste for his suit. It's going to take a few months for us to get them shipped and train the military on how to use them. We need to keep the press out of our noses too.
JOHNSON: This all sounds a bit too good to be true, Director.
HOOVER: I thought the same thing. We've found ourselves a mole.
JOHNSON: The Tet Offensive has been hell on morale across the board, and a lot of those quarians are joining the damn hippies in the streets. Approve his request and get this done quickly and quietly.
HOOVER: With pleasure, sir.
Results of the United States Presidential Election, November 5, 1968:
ROBERT KENNEDY: 211 Electoral Votes
RICHARD NIXON: 209 Electoral Votes
GEORGE WALLACE: 118 Electoral Votes
Result: No winner. Election will now go to the House of Representatives and the Senate.
Notes
Robert F. Kennedy did significantly better in terms of raw vote than Hubert H. Humphrey did in our world, but both his and Nixon's electoral votes were greatly reduced by Wallace's success (he won every state in the South except Virginia and Florida, and also West Virginia). In the South, newly enfranchised racial minorities were simply not enough to overcome the surge of support for Wallace.
With this outcome, the chaos of 1968's election year would spill over into 1969. Quarians, despite not being able to vote, can't help but criticize the bizarre electoral system the Americans use to choose their leader.
Headlines around the world, December 1968-January 1969
AMERICAN FORCES BEGIN COUNTEROFFENSIVE IN VIETNAM: RAPID SUCCESS LEAVES OBSERVERS BAFFLED
BRITISH GOVERNMENT CONSIDERS CALLING GENERAL ELECTION: HAROLD WILSON SEEKS NEW MANDATE ON QUARIAN CITIZENSHIP, VOTING RIGHTS
GEORGE WALLACE: "MY ELECTORS WILL NOT FOR EITHER OF THOSE TWO UNTIL EVERY ALIEN COMMUNIST IS OUT OF THE SOUTH"
REPORT: AMERICAN SOLDIERS USING ALIEN WEAPONRY IN VIETNAM
ADMIRALTY BOARD "DISAVOWS AND CONDEMNS" USE OF MASS EFFECT TECHNOLOGY IN VIETNAM WAR
INSIDE THE NEW SOVIET UNION: HOW THE QUARIANS ARE CHANGING THE COMMUNIST WORLD
NIXON ELECTED PRESIDENT BY HOUSE: QUARIAN IMMIGRANTS TO LEAVE SOUTHERN UNITED STATES AS PART OF "BACKROOM" AGREEMENT