Chapter 10
Negotiations…
In the thousands of years of human civilization, there had never been a single government body which took on as much responsibility as the New Earth Government had. Born from the violent and bloody womb of war, it had been conceived as a necessity if mankind wanted to survive the horrors that had finally revealed themselves; should it have fallen, there would have been no hope. Many thought that such a government could not exist, that humanity was too naturally divisive for such a thing to work. But, against all odds, the NEG succeeded beyond anyone's best hopes.
The First Archanotech War prompted the creation of such a regime, where countries all over the world buried their respective hatchets in favor of uniting against a common enemy. At that time the Nazzadi had been the enemy, who had been created by the Migou to ensure that humanity would never become a threat to their dominance. In spite of the valiant effort put forth by mankind, though, the Nazzadi would have won, had they not discovered their creators' deception and sided with the then newly born NEG.
The Aeon War started soon after, where the Migou and the forces in service to the Old Ones attacked. For years, the NEG weathered the brunt of the war, coming close a number of times to collapse, but in the end it held. Upon reconstruction of Earth and the recolonizing of the Sol System, the Government became the Federation, whose birth heralded a golden age of expansion and progression for humans and Nazzadi alike.
But now, that age seemed to be at an end.
Within the Chicago District there stood Grant Federal Park Complex, the seat of the Federation. The place was more of a fortress than a government building, with reinforced walls, pillboxes, power-armored regiments and more wards and other occult defenses than you could count. Inside this stronghold, President Tobias Gideon held counsel with his cabinet about the new alien race attacking them, which comprised of Supreme Commander Anselm, Secretary of State Sean Vilsack, Nazzadi Delegate Varma and Eldritch Society Administrator Sebastian Ryker.
The president was a tall, lean man with dark hair flecked with gray and a narrow face that gave him an almost hawkish visage. His sharp blue eyes stared off into the distance as he listened to the report brought before him by the Supreme Commander.
"Our forces appear to have things well in hand," Anselm said. "According to Admiral Slade's last message, the aliens have been effectively crippled; the 5th Fleet has isolated their ships and their ground forces are being destroyed piecemeal. Within a day or two, the invaders should be completely eradicated." Nods of approval answered the news.
"After Shanxi is liberated, we'll reinforce our positions there to prevent another attack," continued the Supreme Commander. "I've already scrambled the 1st and 3rd Fleets to head towards the planet. After that, we'll work on finding where these aliens call home. In the meantime, we need to increase production for war; ships, mecha, artillery, everything needs to be cranked out as fast as possible."
Gideon turned to look at the Secretary of State. "How quickly can we produce these items?"
"Very quickly," answered Vilsack. "By the end of the month, the industrial sectors on every world will be manufacturing units of all war materials by the tens of thousands. As for ships, our shipyards can be expected to produce a new frigate, destroyer or cruiser every week on average, while a carrier or dreadnought can be built in a year, providing enough resources are allotted and that delays due to mechanical failure or other factors are minimal."
The President nodded in acknowledgement before letting out a rueful chuckle. "Well, this certainly isn't how I pictured my first term going. Guess the powers that be got bored with our years of peace."
His cabinet contributed their own laughter, although they all knew how very true the president's words were. As mankind had delved deeper into the arcane and thereby the nature of the universe, it quickly became clear just how insignificant they really were. The government made every effort to make the public believe otherwise, but the fact of the matter was that for all their advancements, for all their discoveries, when compared to beings who could play around with the very fabric of the universe on a whim, mankind was hilariously outmatched; their place on the cosmic ladder was basically on the level of insects. All they could do was keep trudging forward and hope that one of the nigh-omnipotent entities didn't decide to squash them. It was quite the depressing picture.
Fortunately, Anselm spoke again before the mood could turn dour. "In any case, these aliens not on the level of the Migou, not even close. That's not to say that I feel that we can easily win. By my estimate, the force that attacked Shanxi was along the lines of a scouting unit."
"But why would they attack without support from the main body?" wondered Varma. Virtually all Nazzadi had a military background and he was no exception.
The Supreme Commander shrugged. "Could be any number of reasons; maybe they wanted to establish a beachhead and pave the way for the rest of their friends. Or maybe they were just cocky and bit off more than they could chew."
Laughter once more came from the gathered government officials. Just then, the holographic display situated at the end of the table pinged on, alerting them to an incoming message. A series of numbers flashed on its screen, which they recognized as the clearance code given to Slade.
"Looks like the good Admiral has another report to give us," Gideon remarked. Anxiousness suddenly gripped them in anticipation of what the message might portend. The president mentally crossed his fingers in hopes that it would be good news.
Anselm thumbed a key and Slade's stony visage appeared. The admiral promptly snapped a salute. "Mister President, Commander Anselm," he began without preamble, "I have news regarding the aliens."
"Good news, I hope?" asked Gideon, still keeping his fingers crossed.
Slade nodded once. "Yes, sir. I've spoken with one of their leaders, and they've agreed to surrender in hopes of negotiating an end to hostilities."
The eyes of all present widened in surprise. This was indeed good news, better than any of them had dared hope. Their surprise was quickly replaced by suspicion, and Varma asked the question they were all thinking.
"Why are they so eager to sue for peace?"
"From what I've inferred, these aliens found our science teams checking out that strange device floating near Shanxi and thought they were trying to turn it on, which apparently is against their laws," Slade answered. "The force that attacked us was a patrol that goes around enforcing the regulations and weren't expecting to fight a real battle."
"Wait a minute, you mean to say that we are on the brink of war because of some trigger-happy cops?" asked Vilsack incredulously. The other cabinet members mimicked the Secretary of State's ire.
"That was my reaction as well, Mister Secretary," Slade agreed. "Nevertheless, I felt it prudent to inform the president about this new development."
"And how genuine do you think their appeal for peace is?" asked Gideon.
"A hundred percent, sir, at least from the one I talked to."
"How can you be so sure?" asked Vilsack, skepticism clear in his tone. Anselm shot him a quick scowl at the implication that a high-ranking member of the Armed Forces would be less than absolutely thorough in their duties.
If Slade took offence to the Secretary of State's doubt, he gave no sign of it. He simply said, "During my interrogation of one of their leaders, I had the Tager Snitch alongside me, who assured me that his plea was completely sincere."
All eyes turned to Ryker, who favored them all with a cool and aloof gaze. Like all other senior individuals in the Eldritch Society, the Administrator was a Tager himself. "Snitch is a Dream, a metamorphosed Tager capable of seeing into someone's mind and sensing emotions with ease. I can assure you, if the alien was lying, he would have known." His pale eyes settled themselves on Vilsack. "Is your uncertainty satisfied now, or are you going to cast doubts on one of the Society's operatives too?"
Vilsack gulped visibly and said, "No…I'm sure that the esteemed agents of the Eldritch Society are more than capable." He scooted a bit backwards in an attempt to subtly put more distance between himself and the Tager sitting opposite of him. Ryker gave a small, slightly condescending nod.
"Anything else to add, Admiral?" asked Anselm.
"Yes. These aliens are also part of an alliance of several other races, which call themselves the Citadel Council." The mood of the cabinet suddenly turned somber at that. It was bad enough dealing with a potential war with one alien race, but now they had to worry that others might join in alongside them.
"Thank you for your report, Admiral," said the president. "Be sure to forward any other information you can glean. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have to deliberate on what to do next. We will contact you once we reach a decision."
In response, Slade gave another sharp salute and the hologram flickered off. An instant later, the air turned to one of all business.
"All right," said Gideon. "Assuming that peace is now a viable option, what is the recommendation?"
"Take it," said Vilsack without hesitation. "The Aeon War claimed more lives than every other war combined; we don't need another one, especially if they have friends that may very well back them up."
"I second the motion," Varma put in. "My people will not shy away from war if it is unavoidable, but the Nazzadi will take peace anytime."
Gideon nodded. "Well, I suppose turning down an offer of peace wouldn't be a good way to start off my term, now would it?" he remarked jokingly, earning him a few amused snorts from his cabinet. "Commander Anselm, how should we proceed?"
The Supreme Commander cleared his throat and launched into his proposal. "According to the reports, the aliens still have serviceable vessels that have been captured by the 5th Fleet. I recommend that we allow one of them to go back to their territory and bring back some diplomats. The rest we'll hold for leverage until negotiations conclude.
"That being said, I would also advise that recruitment rates be stepped up and military production still be increased, particularly in regards to the Astral Navy, and that we do everything we can to learn about the aliens' strengths and weaknesses. The captured aliens may want peace, but their bigwigs might not. If this all goes south, I think I speak for all of us when I say that it would be best to go in prepared."
The president looked around at his cabinet. "Are there any objections to the Supreme Commander's proposal?" None were raised.
"Then let us proceed, and pray that this all goes off without a hitch."
#
If there was one thing to say about the chambers of the Citadel Council, it would be that they definitely conveyed the message that the inhabitants were very powerful. As imposing as they were grandiose, the chambers were a calculated show of authority, a silent declaration that this was where all the big decisions were made.
Their message went utterly unnoticed by the panicky Turian rushing into the room. He skittered to a halt right in front of the Council and blurted out, "Councilor Sparatus, sir!"
The Turian Councilor's mandibles flared in irritation as he glowered down at the jittery example of his species, while his fellow councilors simply stared in mild curiosity. "What is it?" he demanded in a rough tone.
The hapless Turian was cowed for a moment, but quickly collected himself. "Sir, there's been an incident."
"An incident?" repeated Sparatus in a dangerous voice, his glower intensifying. "What kind of incident?"
The messenger shifted awkwardly as his eyes flicked from his species' representative to the Asari and Salarian councilors, whose stares of curiosity had likewise become more acute. He then leaned forward and began whispering to Sparatus. A few moments passed, and then…
"WHAT?!"
The Turian councilor's voice echoed throughout the chamber halls, filled with indignant fury. The messenger flinched back, as did other two councilors, who exchanged wary glances; Sparatus had always had a fiery disposition, but such an explosion was not something that happened without cause. The courier leaned forward again and the whispering continued, with Sparatus's expression growing darker with each passing second. A minute later and Sparatus turned to face his fellow councilors.
"Apologies, Councilors," he said in voice simmering with barely-controlled anger, "but something urgent has just come up which I must address at once."
"And what, may I ask, is this 'urgent something'?" Councilor Torbel asked. Sparatus glared at the Salarian.
"It is a Hierarchy matter. It doesn't concern you."
Torbel's large eyes stared coolly back at Sparatus. "Is that so? Because I think it does concern me, as well as all of Citadel space. You see, I just heard a very interesting report about your 57th Patrol Fleet; something about only one ship out of fifteen accounted for and heading for the Citadel as fast as possible."
Sparatus's eyes popped open in surprise. "How did you know that?"
Torbel snorted. "You know perfectly well that my species has been directing espionage and intelligence operations for the better part of two thousand years. Gathering information is practically second nature to us."
Sparatus muttered something about STG meddling in Turian affairs while Tevos, who had been standing silently by, gasped in alarm. Seeing that there would be no way to get out of the coming conversation, Sparatus let out a frustrated breath.
"You are correct," he said at last. "A frigate from the 57th Patrol Fleet just returned from the Relay-314 sector. Apparently, the fleet was attacked."
"Goddess..." Tevos breathed. "How did this happen?"
"The fleet encountered vessels of an unknown alien race attempting to activate the relay. They were immediately engaged and destroyed by the patrol's ships. Occupation procedures of their planet were subsequently launched, but the 57th was assaulted by a full-fledged attack force. As of now, at least five ships are destroyed, the dreadnought Resolute Spirit crippled and the rest held hostage, including the ground forces still on the aliens' world. The ship that returned was deliberately sent back as an envoy for peace talks."
The silence the followed the announcement was so heavy you could almost feel it. Even Torbel could not seem to muster up anything to say.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I must ready my people." Sparatus made to leave, only to be stopped by Tevos's alarmed voice.
"Wait! The aliens are suing for peace! Surely you don't intend to escalate this situation?"
"I'll give them peace," Sparatus growled. "Right after they learn what happens when you pick a fight with the Hierarchy."
"My dear Sparatus, I'm sure your train of thought makes sense in whatever world you're in right now," said Torbel scathingly, earning him a dark glare from the Turian Councilor, "but in this reality, when one side offers a chance for diplomacy and the other side rejects that offer, the option to end things agreeably tends to disappear."
"What are you suggesting? That I let this go?!" demanded Sparatus, rounding on the Salarian. "These aliens are guilty of flaunting a Citadel decree—a decree that was enacted as a safeguard against another Rachni War I might add!—and slaughtered good Turians for doing what they were supposed to! For Spirits' sakes, they are still holding my people captive!"
"And by your own admission, your people didn't bother trying to establish communication with the aliens and instead initiated First Contact by shooting at them and then invading one of their worlds," Tevos interjected angrily. "What did you think was going to happen? That they'd do nothing? You should be thankful that they're willing to discuss peace and are not declaring war!"
"If they did, we'd crush them," Sparatus declared with tone that conveyed absolute confidence in his words.
"I'm afraid I have to disagree on that," Torbel said as he casually flicked through a datapad. "Unless the report is greatly mistaken, these aliens have displayed examples of highly advanced technology in fields we could only dream of. Their mastery of direct energy weapons alone would put us at a great disadvantage."
Tevos shook her head; clearly she hadn't heard right. "I'm sorry, Torbel; did you say that the aliens have access to practical direct energy weapons?"
"Oh yes. Their ships have entire broadsides composed of them, including lasers, plasma and possibly even charged particles. In addition, the aliens also utilized what I strongly believe was a missile with a very powerful antimatter warhead. As you all know, even a single gram of antimatter is capable of atrocious destruction, but this warhead was loaded with enough to take out two ships and cripple the Resolute Spirit. And to top it all off, the damage done to the Patrol Fleet was inflicted by a single dreadnought-sized ship." He fixed Sparatus with a pointed stare. "Not exactly a confidence-booster, is it?"
A look of utter shock crossed the Asari's face while Sparatus quietly seethed at the latest violation of Hierarchy intelligence security. Torbel simply cast a smug grin at the Turian Councilor. Knowing that both Tevos and Torbel were going to side against him, Sparatus let out resigned sigh.
"Fine," he said grudgingly, "send back an envoy. But don't blame me when they get slaughtered." With that, he stomped off to his office with the nervous-looking messenger trailing behind him.
"Thank the Goddess he saw reason," Tevos sighed in relief.
"Truth be told, that actually went better than I thought it would," Torbel mused to his Asari counterpart. "I honestly expected that he'd be far more stubborn; he is a firm believer that negotiations are best conducted with the other side held at gunpoint."
"Regardless, we have to act fast. I'll begin assembling an ambassadorial party to negotiate with the aliens."
Torbel nodded in agreement. "Be sure the emissary is the best there is. The situation is precarious enough without diplomatic blunders."
#
It had been three days since the Turians had formally surrendered to Federation forces. Shanxi was now a veritable fortress, with the combined forces of the 1st, 3rd and 5th Fleets orbiting the planet and hundreds of thousands of ground personnel planet-side. Everyone was on high alert; even though peace talks were supposed to commence in due time, Parliament wanted to be ready in case the aliens changed their minds.
As Admiral Slade entered one of the science labs on his dreadnought Karakoram, he found they were alive with activity. All throughout the room, tech experts were studying samples of the Turians' technology. The moment he came in, everyone stopped what they were doing and stood in respectful silence. The Admiral casually walked over to one of the lab tables.
"Gentlemen," Slade said, "what new things have we managed to learn about our new acquaintances?"
The head scientist, a Professor Antoine Duval, allowed a satisfied smile to cross his face. "A sizeable amount, Admiral. To start with, much like our technology is based around the D-Engine and non-Euclidean mathematics, the Turians' technology is based around element zero and this 'mass effect' principle.
"The first thing we examined was how their FTL drives worked. Based on our research and what we already know about the 'relay' as they call it, they create a mass effect field around their ships." The technician suddenly looked excited. "This is where it gets interesting: the field casually alters one of the fundamental aspects of the universe, specifically the law that nothing can go faster than light. The field allows them to make light go faster!"
Slade was stunned. Even with all that arcanotechnology had granted to humanity, altering such a central piece of reality was something that had thus far eluded them. And the Turians had such technology as part of their standard designs! It was a major breakthrough, but it was also a worrying one; from the initial studies, it was determined that the range allowed by the relay could theoretically span the entire galaxy, far greater than what the DF-Drive allowed, and, if the Turian captain was to be believed, transported them to their destination in an instant. Granted, they were entirely dependent on two relays being linked to do that, but there was no telling how many there were, or how close they were to Federation territory. The galaxy was a big place, after all; for all they knew, there could be some right on their doorstep.
Making a mental note to include that in his next report, he said, "Have you learned anything else?"
"Yes," Duval said. "Their mastery of element zero has also extended to their military vehicles and even their infantry. They've developed a way to surround their forces with a barrier that repels incoming objects with sufficient kinetic energy. Their entire military appears to be highly dependent on this technology.
"However, the shields only apply to physical objects. Radiation and energy can all ignore them. Also, even though the barriers are made to deflect objects, they can only take so much before collapsing. They will recharge after a time, but until then the wearer is vulnerable."
"Interesting," Slade mused. "Is there a way to integrate this shielding technology into our own armor systems?"
"I'm certain we'll find one," Duval assured him. "This technology is relatively straightforward compared to ours."
"Make it happen." Slade turned on his heels and exited the lab, leaving the scientists to their tinkering.
#
The Admiral's next destination was another lab, this one dedicated to biological matters. Inside, there was only one occupant. He was of average height and build, with immaculately groomed blonde hair that seemed to shine in the glare of the lab's lights. He was busily vivisecting a Turian corpse, humming an upbeat tune as he did. Slade was a hard man, but in the presence of this person, he felt his skin crawl; there was no one else who could dissect a cadaver with such enthusiastic vigor as the one before him.
Doctor Herbert West was the successor of the renowned Anton Miyakame, having taken over the Engel and Nephilim programs and was the head of various other projects. He was also regarded as even more of a nutcase than Miyakame had been. Whenever he wasn't on one of his drug-fueled working binges, Miyakame had been emotionless and indifferent to the world at large and normally shunned social interactions; to him, there were only two kinds of people: those who were useful and those who were to be ignored. West, by contrast, loved being the center of attention and boasted a number of eccentricities; the most apparent was the fact that he still wore glasses even though modern medicine had made them obsolete and preferred dressing like he was from the early 1900s.
His quirks notwithstanding, no one could deny his brilliance, having singlehandedly brought about a number of breakthroughs and his position as one of the top minds in the Federation, particularly in the field of genetics and bioengineering, gave him more than a few privileges. The moment he got wind that a new alien race had been discovered he was among the first arrivals to Shanxi, euphoric as a multi-million T-note lottery winner at the chance of seeing what made them tick.
When Slade entered the room, his head snapped up, skewering the admiral with a pair of vivid blue eyes that displayed a mad gleam. "Ah, Admiral!" he said cheerfully. "So good of you to come; I suppose you're here to see what I've managed to winkle out of my new friend?" He patted the dead alien's head affectionately.
"I have," Slade said evenly. "I assume you have managed to discover some things?"
"Nothing quite as radical as what I'm sure you've been told by the technicians, but I did manage to find out a thing or two," the doctor said as he swished a razor-sharp scalpel in a dish of water, washing off the residual blood and bodily fluids that clung to it. "Starting with the obvious, the Turians are bipedal and are a predatory species with a distinct avian heritage; they possess two fingers and opposable thumbs on both hands, which are all tipped with claws that are quite capable of slicing through human flesh.
"The most distinguishing feature of them is the carapace that covers their bodies. It has a metallic content and contains trace amounts of thulium." He tapped a gloved finger on the alien's hide for emphasis. "I'm willing to bet that it had been developed as a means of protection from greater levels of solar radiation." Though he still wore his surgical mask, it was clear that he was smiling. "I can't wait to see what I can do with this."
"No doubt," agreed Slade, repressing a slight shudder at West's eagerness. People called him the "modern-day Frankenstein," a moniker that the doctor was more than happy to live up to. When creating a new genetically engineered creature, he subscribed to three criteria: make it as deadly, efficient and pants-shittingly horrifying as possible. Nature alone had plenty of nasty traits to choose from, but when you added in DNA from metaterrestrial specimens, whose own genetic material laughed in the face of those silly biological laws the organisms of the World of Elements had to conform to, there was practically no limit as to what could be done. Whether it was giving a subject a spear-like tongue to impale a victim and siphon out its blood or a stinger that injected venom concoction that induced a zombie-like state, the doctor wholeheartedly applied his demented creativity to the task, pursuing ever more grotesque creations.
"There is one other thing I discovered," West said. "If I recall correctly, you had some problems feeding the prisoners."
"We did," Slade agreed. "They all claimed that they couldn't eat our food. Something about suffering severe allergic reactions if they did."
"Well, I do believe I discovered why that is so. The DNA structure of the Turians is not formed the same way as ours; that is, it's not based on levo-amino acids, but a dextro-amino variant."
"And that means…?"
"It means that their genetic makeup is very different from our own. What we find beneficial, they find useless or even deadly and vice versa. On that note, we'll have to develop a new strain of neurotoxins for the troops."
Slade cocked his head in confusion. "Why? According to the reports from the ground, they seem to work just fine."
"Not quite. The current blend is made to shut down the entire body virtually instantaneously; for these aliens, they seem to only trigger what amounts to an epileptic seizure. It may look like they're dying, but by my estimates, they'd have plenty of time to get treatment."
Slade pursed his lips. "Very well; can you make a new mixture?"
West's eyes glinted with a feverish light. "Can I? Admiral, you wound me. Give me a week and I'll give you a toxin that'll kill them—" he snapped his fingers—"like that." He then picked up a small electronic surgical saw. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must get back to work." He thumbed the activation switch and the blade buzzed to life. Slade made to leave, but not before he heard the sound of the saw's teeth slicing through flesh and the doctor quietly singing a tune.
"Oh, whistle while you work…"
#
Days became weeks as the forces of the Federation waited to receive the diplomats that the Turians had promised would come. In that time, there had not been so much as an irregular blip registering on the sensors. Boredom and frustration were becoming increasingly prevalent as the tension of waiting ate away at the sentries standing vigilant over Shanxi. To complicate things even more, the Turians were running out of their foodstuffs; too much longer, and they would begin to starve.
Still, that didn't mean the rest of the Federation was just sitting around, twiddling their thumbs. The industrial sectors had all begun manufacturing war materials in bulk in preparation for possible escalation of hostilities and numerous research reports had made their way back to the R&D departments, particularly the shielding technology for ships, vehicles and infantry. Prototypes were already being developed, though the tricky part would be to merge arcanotech with this new element zero based one. Both fields were at entirely opposite ends, but the scientific community was very optimistic; compared to the sanity-warping nature of arcanotech, figuring out the Turians' tech was almost a breeze.
Then, one day, the alarms of all ships began to blare. Admiral Slade, recently appointed as the overall commander of the gathered forces, burst onto the bridge of the Karakoram to consult the main display. A craft had just been detected by the sensors; it was a small vessel, perhaps only thirty or so meters long, though equally wide. It had a smooth and fluid design as opposed to the Turians' economical if blocky fortresses. A quick scan indicated that it bore no weapon systems.
Without taking his eyes from the screen, Slade asked, "What am I looking at here?"
"No idea, sir," the man operating the screen answered. "The ship uses the same FTL as the Turians, but its design is most definitely not theirs."
Slade's eyes narrowed at the ship as it drifted serenely towards them before coming to a stop a respectful distance away. It was clearly making an effort to show that it was not a threat.
"Maybe this is one of their allies from that 'Citadel Council' they're part of?" a crewman offered.
Someone snorted in derision. "Goddamn birds don't even have the decency to talk to us in person."
Further chatter was silenced as the Admiral spoke up. "Intermediary or not, we'll proceed as planned." He nodded to the communications crew. "Relay to frigates Thermopylae and Grunwald: give them a hail in Turian; if they don't respond, send them a first contact package and then escort the alien vessel to the Karakoram. Exercise caution; I don't care how harmless it may look, if it takes any threatening action, destroy it with extreme prejudice."
#
"Well…that certainly is impressive," remarked Matriarch Alayah as she gazed out at the assembled ships. There were over two hundred of them, each one clearly ready to engage in battle at a moment's notice.
"I would have gone more along the lines of 'menacing,'" her aide Talia replied nervously. "Goddess, look at those ships! Some of them look like they're just giant guns! What kind of race makes something like that?"
"The kind that has been hardened by war and become very good at it," Alayah observed gravely, "which is why we must talk peace with them."
The ship's monitors suddenly blipped. "Movement," reported one of the pilots. "Two ships have just detached from the rest of the alien fleet and are heading towards us."
Talia gasped in alarm, hands coming up to cover her mouth. Alayah laid a gentle hand on the aide's shoulder. "Calm down. If they were so set on going to war, they wouldn't have sent a request for peace talks." Talia nodded, though she looked far from reassured.
After a time, the two ships came to a halt just in front of their vessel. They were of the smaller types, though they looked no less dangerous. The monitors signaled an incoming transmission. The pilot pressed a button and a robotic voice quickly filled the hull, delivering its message in the Turian language.
"Attention unidentified vessel, this is the Grunwald and Thermopylae; you have entered the domain of the New Earth Federation. If you are able to understand us, send out three pings."
The pilots wasted no time in doing so. Another transmission quickly followed from the alien ships. "Alien vessel, identify yourself. What business do you have here?"
Alayah stepped up to the ship's communication hub. "Grunwald and Thermopylae, we are the ship Serene Tide of the Asari Republics. We are here to negotiate an end to hostilities on behalf of the Turian Hierarchy."
There was silence for a minute as the aliens digested the information. Then, another hail was sent. "Vessel Serene Tide, we will escort you to one of our ships to conduct talks. Do not attempt any hostile action or we will kill you." Even through the tinny voice, the threat's severity was undiminished.
"Understood," said Alayah. "We wait at your discretion."
Without further ado, the ships moved alongside the Asari's ship, ensuring that there would be no escape. This was followed by a terse command to follow them. Minutes later, they reached one of the largest ships in the aliens' fleet. As they prepared to dock, Alayah turned to the captain of the commandos who were serving as her bodyguards.
"Be ready for trouble, but keep in plain sight and don't make any threatening gestures; they're obviously very jumpy right now and the last thing we want is to provoke them."
"As you wish, Matriarch," the captain said, saluting her before relaying the orders to the commando team.
Alayah looked back at her aide, who was looking profoundly apprehensive, and patted her on the shoulder. "Frightened?"
"A bit," Talia admitted. "These aliens are all set for war, and it's up to us to try and convince them to choose the peaceful route; it's a little overwhelming." She cast a nervous smile at the matriarch. "Guess we'd better make a good first impression."
"First impressions have already been made by the Turians," Alayah said grimly. "Now we have to perform damage control."
"But are you truly sure about this? I mean, melding so soon goes against every principle we have for first contact!"
"I know, but as I said, the Turians have already botched up the situation spectacularly. We need to settle this as quickly as possible and melding is the best way to show we are sincere and thereby establish trust."
There came a loud clang and the Asari ship shook slightly, signifying that their docking had been successful. Shortly after, another transmission came in.
"Delegates, this is the NSV Karakoram. Proceed inside, and you will be directed to an area where we will facilitate a translation package. Afterwards, we will begin the negotiations. Be warned, we will respond to any hostility with lethal force."
"Understood, Karakoram," Alayah answered. She took a deep breath, summoning up her resolve and putting on a dignified air. "All right everyone; let's go meet our new acquaintances."
#
Following the successful implementation of the newly-named human and Nazzadi language into the universal translators, the Matriarch and her entourage were escorted to what appeared to be a recreation bridge that had been repurposed for the diplomatic overtures and brought before the Federation's representatives. There were three of them, one with military insignias while the other two wore the prim and sharp clothing of government officials. They stood in a tense manner, eyeing the Asari with equal parts surprise and suspicion.
It was quickly made apparent to Alayah that the humans had gone through considerable effort to make themselves look as intimidating as possible. All throughout the room, armored soldiers were positioned in formations to create kill-zones in the event that lethal force was mandated. Of course, neither she nor any of her group was really paying attention to them. No, what they were focusing on were the Federation's diplomats, or, more precisely, what was guarding them. Two dozen…things…stood vigilant around the diplomats, ranging in height from just seven feet to a staggering ten feet, and each one flat out terrifying. It was as if some insane deity had decided one day that it was going to make the most hideous creatures imaginable, but surely no god would be depraved enough to allow such horrors to exist. Only a few of them had anything that resembled mouthparts, but that was among the least disturbing traits. One looked like a mass of rubbery flesh, complete with overlong arms tipped with shearing talons slapped on and too many eyes situated in places they had no right to be; another had a slimy and mottled appearance, like something that had been left in water and just started to decay. Worst of all was how they looked at the Asari, with the interest of a predator that had found a new creature and was wondering how it would taste.
At her side, Talia let out a small mewl of fear, staring with utter dread at the diplomats' bodyguards. Even the commandos were put off by them, though they did a remarkable job of hiding it. Alayah banished her fear into the back of her mind and steeled herself. The burden of averting this crisis that the Turians had started rested on her; she could not afford to falter now. Mustering up the centuries of experience that her life had given her, Alayah drew herself up regally and moved up towards the diplomats, Talia trailing at her heels.
"Greetings, ambassadors," she said, executing a small bow. "I am Matriarch Alayah of the Asari Republics. This is my adjutant Talia." She gestured to her aide, who gave a bow of her own, though hers was not as graceful as the Matriarch's.
One of the humans stepped forward. "I am Sean Vilsack, Secretary of State of the New Earth Federation." He motioned towards his colleagues. "With me are Nazzadi Representative Varma and Connor Anselm, Supreme Commander of the Federation's Armed Forces."
Alayah bowed again. "It is my honor to meet with you," she said in an appeasing tone, hoping to alleviate some of the obvious distrust emanating from the diplomats. No such luck; their postures remained apprehensive and their expressions guarded. "I hope that this tragic event can be settled amicably and we can become friends from now on."
"As do we," agreed Vilsack, though his tone conveyed a clear note of cynicism. "Of course, I had thought we'd be dealing with the Turians themselves instead of an intermediary." If Alayah was any judge, he sounded fairly insulted by that fact. Not a good start, she thought. Nevertheless, he gestured to a table behind him. "Shall we begin?"
"Actually," said Alayah, "before we conduct the talks, I would like to show you that our intention to establish good relations is of the utmost sincerity."
All three diplomats suddenly looked even more suspicious than they had been a moment ago, but at the same time they were also considerably more curious.
"And how are you going to do that?" asked Vilsack.
In answer, Alayah moved in towards Vilsack and placed her hands on either side of his face. A look of alarm made its way across his features. "What do you think you're doing?"
"Be at ease," Alayah soothed, closing her eyes, "and embrace eternity."
Once she spoke the words, the Asari's eyes flashed open, revealing them to have become little more than black pits. Vilsack's own eyes went wide as he joined minds with her. Alayah reached into his mind, sifting through its tides of thoughts and allowing Vilsack to do the same. The melding process would convince the human they were completely benign in their—
"GET AWAY FROM ME!"
Abruptly, the melding was broken as Vilsack tore her hands away from his face and staggered back. Before Alayah could register what had just happened, the diplomats' terrible bodyguards surged forward, quicker than they had any right to be. Her commandos did not even have time to react before they and Talia were subsequently restrained. As for herself, she found herself in the grasp of a red-skinned monstrosity; one of its hands was fastened around her neck, its grip like welded steel, not tight enough to strangle her, but enough so that any movement would be a wasted effort.
"I'd be very still if I were you," the creature growled. "You so much as blink wrong and I'll rip your spine right out of you." The threat carried an almost hopeful undertone.
It suddenly occurred to Alayah that everything had just gone horribly wrong.
Vilsack's fellow diplomats darted forward to assist him, leading him back to the table so that he could lean on. Panting, he stared at the Asari, a look of calamitous outrage affixed on his features.
"YOU ALIEN BITCH!" he bellowed. "HOW DARE YOU PROBE MY MIND?"
The Supreme Commander's head whipped back and forth from Vilsack to the Asari. "She probed you?!" he demanded, looking positively alarmed. "What happened? What did she do to your mind?"
"She—she," Vilsack seemed to struggle to find the words. "She… merged with my mind. She could see into mine and I could see into hers. She…was searching for things, like our culture. But…" He broke off, seemingly too distressed to continue; then, he spoke again. "It didn't feel invasive like a para-psychic would. It was like I almost wanted to stay joined."
The distress lingered for a moment longer before his outrage once again replaced it. "This is what we get for asking to talk peace?!" he roared at Alayah. "You invade my mind before we even start talking?! What were you trying to do?! Find military secrets?! Make me more agreeable to whatever you were going to say?!"
"No!" Alayah cried desperately. "I wasn't trying to do anything like that!"
"Don't give me that bullshit!" snarled Vilsack. "You were digging around in my head! You have ten seconds to tell what just what the fuck you did, or I swear by all that is holy, I will have you and your friends spaced!"
Knowing that the situation had just become incredibly perilous, Alayah blurted out, "I melded with you. It's my race's method of reproduction. When we join with another, we attune our nervous systems to theirs. It also allows us to exchange just thoughts if we so choose. I only wanted to share cultures and show that we meant no harm! It was meant to establish trust!"
"You call hacking into my mind without consent an effort to establish trust? Where I come from, that sort of thing is considered the equivalent of being raped!"
The sudden realization of why the human was so hysterical crashed into Alayah like a runaway aircar. Apparently, they had their own version of melding and by their standards she had just committed a most heinous violation of Vilsack's person. The icy claws of despair seized her; in one fell swoop, she had conceivably ruined any chance of negotiation, and thereby doomed the Turians, if not the whole galaxy, to the cruel fires of war. She had to act fast if there was to be any hope of salvaging this mess.
"Ambassadors, let me offer my most profuse apologies," she said. "If I had known that melding would be so offensive to you, I would never have attempted it. I know I have no right to ask for your trust, but believe me when I say I only want to make it so we can all live in peace."
"You mean you still want to get on with the talks?" Vilsack demanded incredulously. "After what just happened? You—you—" He suddenly slumped down onto the table, looking as though he just been drained of all vitality. "I can't do this right now. I need to rest; clear my head."
Anselm nodded at some soldiers. "Take the Secretary to a cabin and see that he's not disturbed."
"Yes sir," they chorused. They immediately moved to Vilsack and gently escorted him out of the room.
"Now, as for all of you," Anselm said, fixing Alayah with a heated glare, "you are going to put in a holding cell while we decide whether we go ahead with the negotiations, or not. Until that time, you will remain confined and any hint of defiance will result in your deaths and the cessation of diplomacy."
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For the next three hours, Alayah and her entourage sat in abject silence within their cell as they waited for the human diplomats to return with their decision. All she could do now was pray to Athame that they would choose to resume talks, though given that she had just committed what amounted to an act of rape on one of them, that outcome seemed very unlikely.
Then, the doors of the room opened, revealing the Supreme Commander flanked by the hellish creatures from before. His face was as expressionless as stone and his eyes were like twin chips of ice. Alayah's breath caught in her throat as she waited for him to deliver his fellow diplomats' choice of action.
"Consider yourself very fortunate," he declared coldly. "After deliberation, despite the grievous violation committed" (Alayah flinched at that) "we have decided to go ahead with the negotiations."
The Matriarch was dizzy with relief; there was still a chance to avert this crisis! "I thank you, Commander. Rest assured I will—"
"I wasn't finished," Anselm snapped, causing Alayah to lapse back into silence. "We will proceed with the talks, but it will be with the Turians only; no proxies, no one else intervening on their behalf. We will be sending you back with codexes pertaining to our history, culture and other samples of information, and we are even willing to let the captured Turians go as a show of good faith since we can't feed them, but if they truly want peace, then they can come in person and discuss terms like civilized beings.
"Now go, and inform the Turians that this is their last chance."