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Glossary
H.M.S.S: Her/His Majesty's Space Ship
B.G.B.C: British Galactic Broadcast Coporation. Known as Beeb or Beegy
Haka: Maori dance performed as greeting or challenge. Unique to New Zealand. (look up All Blacks)
Kiwis: Common term for New Zealanders
Poms: Common term for British
October 2001
Whitehall London headquarters of the Ministry of Space and the Royal Space Force.
"Are you sure it's genuine?" Commodore Hawke glowered at the screen. "Yes sir" stated the signals officer, "Colonel Langton has confirmed that the vault is much bigger than anticipated and with a little calibration our computers are able to understand it." "I see." Growled Hawke, he was struggling with the implications. A vault seemingly full of data and technology far advanced than anything the Ministry of space had seen, and it was on Mars.
January 2010
"Sir the grease monkeys confirm that it's safe, you can fire her up and see what happens."
Lieutenant Bradly grinned slightly, "Alright then, let's see what this baby can do!" he thumbed the button. In the silence that followed he looked around the huge control room. At the Union Jack and the Flag of the Royal space force hanging from the wall. At the expectant and anxious faces of the technicians. Slowly the room began to hum, a throbbing that grew louder with each passing second eventually flooding the room. Men and women clutched their ears as the sound drove the breath from their bodies before suddenly stopping. Bradly picked himself up from the floor and was about to turn to check on the rest of the room when something in the window caught his eye. He stepped to the thick glass and stared open mouthed at the pulsing blue orb resting between the two prongs of the space station. He turned slowly and stared at the chief signals officer, "send a message tight beam to Admiral Hawke in London," he murmured. Mass Relay station 1 is fully functional."
June 2026
"The space freighter R.S.S. Ontario has docked in Manchester space port containing the first delivery of produce and materials from Albion, mankind's first colony outside our solar system." boomed the vid screens in Piccadilly Circus. "In other news rising violence in America has forced President Harold Ransky to be evacuated from Washington, as mobs, protesting against repression of Mass Effect technology and the commencement of martial law stormed the Whitehouse and the Capitol earlier today" sub lieutenant Wallace Flats gave up listening to the news, America had gone to hell since the Brits had stopped spoon feeding them mass effect technology, but then again America had only themselves to blame when that idiot Ransky had thought it a good idea to try and launch covert ops against British bases and had attempted to organize a coup in Canada of all places. He shook his head as he boarded a hover bus and found a seat on the top deck. His new omni tool glowing gently.
August 2050
"What the devil do they mean "Aliens"?" snapped Vice Admiral Flats as the room exploded into activity. "It's unclear" replied General Smythe in his calm measured tones, "The reports are garbled and unclear, from what Intel has gathered they had almost completed their mission on the new relay when unidentified ships attacked them. All we know for sure is that we are unable to contact either the R.S.S. Enterprise or the H.M.S.S. Swallow." "And the R.S.S. Battersea is careening towards us gabbling about being attacked by giant armed raptor monsters!" hissed Flats. "Sir!" called a radar operator, "Battersea just came through the relay sir and on radar, somethings following her sir!" the room seemed to hold its breath despite the sirens and red emergency lights as the two officers bent over the screen. In the moment's silence that followed the room from the lowest private to the most senior captains knew that history was being made.
Two weeks later:
Aboard the "Thatcher" class Dreadnought H.M.S.S. Orion the representatives of humanity sat around the highly polished table in the officer's wardroom waiting for the representatives of the aliens. Translating technology had been upgraded by both sides so at least a ground work for future negotiation could be worked out. Admiral Flats and General Smythe sat at the head of the table flanked by two guards of the Royal Space Regiment. Cameras were rolling from the BGBC and a handful of the senior army and Royal Space Force officers were gathered behind the two commanders. Both officers stood abruptly as the first of the aliens arrived. Admiral Flats arched an eyebrow while one of the camera crew gave a low wolf whistle "Wow, blue babes in space, looks like those cheesy yank films were right." Came a voice from the back of the room. General Smythe turned and gave the room a death stare which silenced whoever had spoken. The blue female turned to the two men. "Good morning," she smiled. Both men bowed slightly. "Good morning ma'am," said Flats, "May I ask what we may call you?" of course, she smiled, I am ambassador Elina of the Citadel Council. "Of course of course" Admiral Flats smiled awkwardly, "But if you don't mind us asking, what do you call yourselves? You obviously aren't a Turian." Ambassador Elina laughed, "That I am not," she grinned, "I'm an Asari, we are considered to be the diplomats of the galaxy while the Turians are the military." "I see," murmured Flats. "Ah," gasped Elina, "And here are the Turian and Salarian representatives, Ambassadors Sartatian and Levos respectively." The air in the room got noticeably chillier as the Turian ambassador entered the room, the soldiers all immediately stiffening if only slightly.
As the three aliens sat around the table opposite the Human delegation, both sides observed each other with interest. For a few minutes the only sound was the muffled whirr of the BGBC camera. Finally General Smythe broke the silence. "Due to the singularly unique nature of this meeting," he said, shifting in his seat, "we have established a holographic link with the foreign office in Whitehall and the foreign secretary wishes to participate in this meeting." As he spoke there as a flickering beside him and finally the form of a rather portly gentleman appeared. He fit the description of a friendly Dickensian uncle with his white hair and moustache, rounded figure and slightly reddish hue. His appearance however, was deceiving. This was the current foreign secretary Sir Harold Watkins, the man who had through his knowledge of politics and dirty tactics had ensured British supremacy in Earth politics, his crowning achievement had been his convincing of the desperate and hopeless American government to announce King William V as the head of state for the now United Commonwealth of America.
Watkins eyed the aliens as they eyed him. Finally he spoke, "It is sad indeed that we have met in such circumstances ambassadors," his Churchillian voice boomed, "However, the fact that we are meeting here today is a sure sign that all is not lost. While your despatches from the "Galactic Council" have been received, I wish to hear from you yourselves why you attacked and destroyed a royal research vessel and a light frigate of the Royal Space Force, before going on to attack a human colony and a flotilla of civilian and light military vessels"
Ambassador Elina nodded and leant forward on the table, "That is fair enough," she purred, "The opening of new mass relays is illegal under galactic law due to a series of violent conflicts with an insectoid species called the Rachni a few hundred years ago. When the Third Fleet of the Turian Hierarchy observed your vessels attempting to open Relay 314, they responded as they were meant to," At this she glared at the Turian Ambassador, "However, they did go too far when they pursued your vessels through the relay and attacked your colony." The Turian ambassador huffed and also leant forward, "It must be noted that once we discovered that we had encountered a new species we immediately withdrew and requested advice from the council." He snapped his brow plates furrowed and his eyes glittering angrily, "We also lost several ships when these humans attacked us after we had withdrawn!" Admiral Flats glared at him, "We attacked the aggressor, your ships were still firing when we arrived!" "ENOUGH!" Snapped Elina and Watkins together, they stared at each other in surprise for a moment before Watkins gestured for the Asari to continue. "What I suggest," stated Elina firmly, Is that a small human vessel with a diplomatic, military and scientific team accompanies us to the citadel, the centre of Galactic politics and be allowed to set up an embassy as well as trade knowledge and experience. None of us want war and as such the sooner we understand each other the sooner we can all cooperate." Watkins nodded in agreement. "An excellent idea," he declared, "Admiral Flats you will assemble a team of representatives with a small escort and meet at Articus station with a political delegation I shall assemble here and send out to meet you. We will also send a team of medical specialists and engineers. See to it that a suitable ship is ready."
Commander Fredrick Munro of the Commonwealth class destroyer H.M.S.S. Wellington was unimpressed. Not only was his ship full to bursting with boffins, doctors, diplomats and other egg-heads, he also had a hold full of alien prisoners of war who were being repatriated. "What the bloody hell are those poms at the ministry thinking?" he snapped at the hologram. "Watch your tone commander," was the blunt reply, Admiral Flats didn't like politics either but he knew Munro needed to be kept in line. "All you have to do is play nice and don't go shooting your mouth off."
"You should be proud!" he went on as Munro opened his mouth to say something, "The first ship to meet the rest of the galaxy is almost fully crew by kiwis! You'll go down in history." Munro sighed. "Yeah yeah, I get it sir. We'll do you proud sir."
"I know you will," Admiral Flats chuckled, "Oh and Commander! May I strongly suggest you don't do a haka when you arrive?"
