Chapter 10 - Back in the U.S.S.R.
Moscow, Soviet Union
August 10, 1969
"Mera." Netra'Non vas Usela took a deep breath and tried to calm himself, out of respect to Mera'Kuun's rank and their old friendship. "With all due respect, I feel rather overwhelmed with the task ahead of us."
All of the chaos generated by their arrival had first been tempered by being assigned to work in a nation that was unequivocally happy to see them. Never in their lives had quarians felt aliens trying so hard to make common cause with them. "Trying" being the key word, for the devil was in the details.
Sure, the Migrant Fleet had been, strictly speaking, a communist society. Resources were collectively distributed, with no internal currency usage and no corporations. The thing these Soviets seemed to not get (or perhaps just didn't want to accept) was that it had been out of necessity. Pre-Exile quarians had been just as capitalist as the rest of the galaxy, though said capitalism was naturally tempered by their altruistic nature. And they had unequivocally not been a "dictatorship of the proletariat".
Mera'Kuun growled. It was a low-pitched growl, one quarians rarely used among themselves. Netra stepped back a bit.
"Everything has gone to complete and utter SHIT, Netra!" A year and a half of frustration came pouring out of the overworked Admiral as he suddenly jumped out of his chair and started pacing around the room. "This is all the damn Council's fault, you know that?! THEY are the ones who proved that uplifting species is a bad idea, and now they're forcing us to do it just to survive! And for what? A bunch of riots and wars and drugs! WHAT THE HELL ARE WE EVEN DOING?!"
Netra said nothing. Decades of experience told him it was better to let Mera finish.
After a moment, the Admiral sat back down, his head in his hands. "We've completely screwed up this species, Netra. I have no idea what's going on and I'm pretty sure the other Admirals don't either. That bosh'tet tripper Nurn'Xen even told me she just wanted to see what would happen. I think we're just...what's the human phrase? 'Winging it.'"
Again Netra was silent, but this time it was because he was speechless. "You mean..." he finally started, "...you don't have a plan? For any of this?"
"I did!" He protested. "I never wanted us to contact these humans in the first place! When we did anyway I told everyone going to political protests was a bad idea! And what the hell am I supposed to do when our people start tripping on acid and smuggling humans onto garden worlds?"
Ah, he thought to himself. Mera always has a plan, but sometimes the plan has him...
"While I don't have the solutions to all of those problems, I do have some...suggestions I needed to discuss," Netra replied. He had a reason for coming here and that performance definitely wasn't it. "The Soviet economy is...inefficient. To put it mildly. The Politburo is emploring us to assist them in the spirit of Marx and Lenin."
"Marx this and Lenin that!" Mera'Kuun was going to strangle the next person who quoted that damned Manifesto to him. He growled again, this time in the normal high pitch. "I'm assuming you have an idea of how to improve it?"
"Yes, several." Netra was an economist, a rarity among the quarians since they knew how their system worked and the rest of the galaxy didn't need their opinions on the economy. Since First Contact, he had become a hot commodity, with several countries asking for his help. It would've been easier in America. Much easier. "However, the majority I can discuss with Chairman Kosygin. I have come to you because one issue requires a...delicate approach."
Mera'Kuun eyed his old friend. He was known for bending the rules back on the Usela and this was likely not going to be on the level. "What issue would that be?"
At that, Netra took out a small device from one of his pockets, which Mera recognized as a modified EMP jammer as it was activated. It had been (easily) configured to disable most human surveillance devices, and he appreciated the caution. The KGB's technology was primitive but they were persistent little bosh'tets.
"I'll put it simply," Netra said. "I need Leonid Brezhnev dead."
Mera thought it was the setup to a joke, but his friend was stone faced. "You're not being serious."
"I am," Netra replied.
"NO!" His anger returned. "A thousand times no! We've already upended their politics and now you want me to authorize an assassination? What the hell are you thinking, Netra?! This is crazy even for you!"
"It isn't crazy." Netra remained calm. "The chaos of the last year has been due largely to our indirect actions. Our civilians are making their own plans because of our desire not to interfere. But we must interfere, as leaving things alone will simply generate more chaos."
"Explain what you mean, clearly." Mera was still testy.
"Leonid Brezhnev is going to kill the Soviet Union." At that, he brought up a few documents on his omni-tool. "Chairman Kosygin's analysis is clear, as is mine. The USSR will not survive without reform, both economic and political. Brezhnev is terrified of change. He is indecisive, slow to act, and will kill our plans with his leadership style."
"Those sounds like subjective personality assessments, not the justification to kill a man."
"They aren't. I've seen the Politburo meeting records myself. The hardliners are going to argue our every point, him and Suslov especially. If we want uplifting done right, we need to 'get our hands dirty'."
Mera'Kuun thought over Netra's argument. Brezhnev was indeed slow to act, and he could anticipate a lot of their suggestions being denounced as 'revisionism'. But it was still assassination.
Finally, he decided that he had had enough. Of this argument, and of everything.
"Netra," he said slowly, "how would you like to be on the Admiralty Board?"
Netra blinked. "What?"
"I'm clearly not suited for this," he explained. "I was opposed to First Contact, I was opposed to uplifting and I'm opposed to this. But what you're saying does make a sick sort of sense. So I'll authorize it, resign, and take the fall if it gets traced back to us."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." He was firm. "I will not be responsible for my people any longer. I may as well enjoy the show, as Nurn'Xen does."
Moscow, Soviet Union
September 30, 1969
Mikhail Suslov was fuming.
It had been less than two weeks since Brezhnev's supposed stroke, but everybody knew the circumstances were suspicious. He was absolutely certain that the quarians were involved, but had no proof. And with the way Politburo meetings were going lately, their intentions were obvious enough.
Betrayal! They were betraying the principles of the October Revolution!
That damned revisionist Kosygin was leading the charge with his quarian lackies. Perhaps he could tolerate the relaxation of cultural restrictions, and even a few elected city officials was not the end of the world. But now they were discussing businesses! Private businesses!
He slumped onto his couch in frustration and poured himself a glass of wine. Now was not the time to let rage cloud his judgement. The revisionists were arrogant, but they would slip up, and soon the Soviet Union would be put on the right path.
Nobody was around to notice Mikhail clutching his throat in pain, nor could anyone hear his final thoughts. If they had been able to do the latter, they would have appreciated the irony of the words "They will fall before me" flashing through his mind.
One day later, Netra'Non vas Usela had a drink of his own, this one more celebratory in nature. The deeds were done, and it was time for change.
Tallinn Special Economic Area, Soviet Union
October 4, 1978
Pilvi strolled through the streets, a smile on her face. Had it really already been a decade since the aliens had come to Earth? It seemed like so much longer because there had been so many changes! All of them, she thought, for the better.
Looking up at the rooftops, her heart was warmed by the most visible change. The Estonian flag, the true Estonian flag, flew proudly above all of them. Many people still wanted independence, but in recent years the Soviets had been much more willing to let themselves express their unique cultural identity. She now spoke mostly Estonian in public, a sharp contrast from the imposed Russian of her youth. It wasn't just their culture, either - the Soviets were letting them watch Western television, and even allowing some citizens to visit Finland!
But as she continued walking through her now-vibrant native city, she knew the real reason people were happy was the money. Limited private enterprise was allowed under Comrade Kosygin's leadership, but here in the Special Economic Area, it was almost like a city in the West. There were American department stores and fast food chains, and even some pubs owned by British companies. She had gone to eat at McDonalds last week just because she could. Apparently it was a lot fancier here than in its country of origin.
She wasn't sure how she felt about the accompanying population boom. Tallinn had never been a tiny village, but now it had two million people and the number was still growing! She was grateful the housing policy had grandfathered in people who lived in the city before the Special Economic Area was established. One day her family would sell their house for millions of rubles.
Looking up at the sky, Pilvi realized she was content. She had a well-paying job, good food, lots of great entertainment, a nice home to live in, and a secure future for herself and the children she would one day have. Perhaps Estonia could eventually be free, but this was enough for now.
Around the World (and New Rannoch) In 583 Words
China: Mao Zedong has not taken kindly to being denied quarian advisors for the People's Republic, denouncing the quarians as revisionists along with the Soviets. First Contact is considered to be the primary trigger for the Night of the Butterflies, a January 1969 purge of Chinese leadership that results in the execution of several noted reformists (allegedly using makeshift butterfly swords), including Deng Xiaoping and Yu Guangyuan. While the Soviet Union gradually opens itself up to the world under Admiral Netra's careful(ly hidden) guidance, China continues to march toward the past with reckless abandon.
France: Mindful of America's experiences, France's conservative government has kept the quarians living there on a tight leash. With the unrest of last year still a fresh memory, quarians are prohibited by law from engaging in political activity or voting. The United Kingdom, which has taken the opposite approach, accepts any who are deported under the law. Despite the restrictions, technological advances brought about by uplifting are slowly bringing the country back to a sense of order.
South Africa: Like China, South Africa's internal politics are keeping it from joining in on the uplifting process. Quarians are universally disgusted with the Apartheid system, and many are vocally demanding the release of Nelson Mandela from Robben Island. Despite the government's best efforts to keep the black population ignorant and oppressed, information from the rest of the world is slowly beginning to trickle in. With the technology gap between South Africa and everyone else becoming more and more egregious with each passing day, something has to give.
United Kingdom: Harold Wilson's proposal to give quarians citizenship and voting rights after five years residency is controversial enough for the Tories to call a vote of no confidence in the Labour government. Although it is defeated, increasing disagreement over the quarian impact on British society leads to the government calling a general election for May 1969. Labour campaigns on legalizing the medicinal use of acid for quarians while decriminalizing "soft" drugs such as cannabis. Europe, previously a hot button issue, is becoming less so as the quarians allowed them to exist independently without needing to integrate with the continent further. The election results in a reduced Labour majority of 337 seats, setting the stage for Britain to become the epicentre of cultural experimentation and decadence during the 1970s. And thanks to the butterfly effect, Brian Jones is still around and trying to get his act together.
Warsaw Pact: Under the directive of the Soviet government, the capital of each Warsaw Pact nation is designated a "Special Economic Area", cities where capitalism can be practiced and international businesses are allowed to operate under the watchful eye of the communist government. As the 1970s march on, the "communist" nations of Eastern Europe begin rapidly abandoning their ideologies in all but name, keeping a stranglehold on power by delivering Western entertainment and goods without that pesky democracy.
New Rannoch: The discovery of a habitable dextro-protein garden world has a very slow but perceptible "brain drain" effect on Earth. Between 1970 and 2000, approximately five million quarians migrate from Earth and the Flotilla to New Rannoch. Although sufficient advisors remain on the human homeworld to guide the young species, the departure of many of them leaves the planet with fewer quarians than it needs to compress centuries of technological evolution into decades.
In retirement, former Admiralty Board member Mera'Kuun takes a shot of vintage turian liquor and remarks that his species is very bad at uplifting.