Councillor Tevos fixed the currently blank holographic display with a look that could freeze superheated plasma. She knew exactly who was about to call, and it was perhaps the worst part of her entire career. Even on board the Destiny Ascension, the most powerful warship in the galaxy, she still had to play nice to the accountants. Outside the large viewport to her left, the rest of the fleet slowly drifted into formation around the Destiny Ascension. They would be ready to depart soon.
Just as prophesied, the display flicked, stuttered, and eventually morphed into the elegant form of Chairwoman Availa Na' Larri. The woman who thought her job was to keep Tevos from doing her's.
"Esteemed Councilor Tevos, It has been too long since we last spoke." Availa's voice was like that of a condescending grandmother. Old, experienced, and full of passive-aggressive spite. Tevos hated her more than she hated any other being in the galaxy, but it came with the job, apparently. Tevos Cknew it would be easier if she stayed polite for now.
"Chairwoman Na' Larri. Yes, it has been quite a while, hasn't it? How are your granddaughters? I'm told that little Tellian has just turned sixty! You must be so proud!"
"Oh, she prefers 'Telly' now. You know how kids are at that age. She'll be getting a tattoo soon, I expect. Anyway, what the fuck do you think you're doing with the Destiny Ascension? The Board of Republics does not appreciate being left out of the loop like this Tevos."
"So it's like that after all." Thought Tevos. Chairwoman Na' Larri represented the collective interest of the asari republics. Though technically Tevos did not answer to her, the Board of Republics controlled, for the most part, how much asari taxpayer money went to the Citadel. Which, technically, was another thing that she was not supposed to control, but since 43% of the Citadel GDP came from the asari republics alone, certain exceptions had to be made
"Why Availa, certainly there is no need to be so hostile. I can assure you that any worthwhile information obtained during this maneuver will be forwarded to The Board immediately." Availa scoffed in response.
"The Board considers the mobilization of the largest investment that the asari republics have ever made in the Citadel military worthwhile information! Do not play coy with me, girl. What is going on?" Tevos was glad that she was alone in her quarters, it wouldn't do for anyone to hear a Councilor spoken to in such a way.
"Madam Na' Larri. Availa. Please do not mis-"
"Stop ducking the question, Councilor. You have already inconvenienced me enough just by stepping on that ship. I couldn't care less what you do with your toys, but we at The Board expect to be kept informed, lest a mistake be made the next time an allocation meeting rolls around. I think you know what that would mean, don't you?"
Tevos knew exactly what it would mean. It would mean that a big pile of credits didn't go where it was supposed to. That could end in a lot of different ways, and none of them were good. Normally, Tevos would have relented, made some sort of apology, and explained the situation on Dekuuna. Availa would be momentarily satisfied, and she would loom over Tevos' shoulder for the rest of her career, just as she always had. This time, however, something stirred in the back of her mind. It made Availa's words seem distant and inconsequential, It was the reason for Tevos' every mistake and triumph, it was something that she had not felt since she had become a Councilor.
It was ambition.
"That is quite enough, Chairwoman! I have tried to remain civil throughout this conversation, but you are apparently interested in provoking me. You seem to forget who you are speaking to, so I'll remind you. I am the woman who decides whether or not you will have a job tomorrow. I am the woman who decides the fate of nations over my lunch break, and, as you have just stated, I am the woman who is currently sitting on the largest piece of military hardware in known history. Your status as the galaxy's most prestigious bean counter does not impress me, you old, useless, overpaid bitch."
The look on Availa's face was worth more to Tevos than the contents of her bank account. While it was true that she had considerable control over the purse strings of the republics, she could also be replaced. There were legions of intelligent, young, and loyal workers in the Revenue Department who would be all too happy to fill Availa's position. She had experience, but that wasn't everything. Sometimes she forgot that.
"Think about that before you call me back." said Tevos as she broke the connection. She had never taken her quarreling with the Chairwoman so far before. For a moment, she wondered if she had gone too far. Then the ship gave a slight lurch as it went to FTL. It reminded her of position she occupied, the power and responsibility that she wielded. No, she didn't need to fear the chairwoman. She was a Citadel Councilor, and she needn't fear anyone. Sometimes she forgot that.
"ORDER UP!" The plate had barely touched the counter when it was snatched away by a passing waiter. Dahl Fritt turned his attention to the next order, the order screen showed that it called for salmon steak with brussel sprouts, accented with lemon. An old Earth dish, then. Easy.
Dahl scuttled over to the open-flame stove and selected a pan from the overhanging rack. His chef's hat wobbled precariously on the top of his carapace as his "lesser-claw" blurred over to the sauce table and selected the best one for brussel sprouts. At the same time, his "greater-claw" reached into a nearby bin of live fish. With a snap of his claw, he lopped off the unfortunate fish's head, and started cleaning it. That's how it was done her at Fritt's Grill. You may pay more, you may wait longer, but the food was always as fresh as it gets.
Dahl Fritt loved his job. Ever since he was a tiny hatchling, he had always been fascinated by food. He honestly didn't understand why others weren't. Hundreds of cultures from three different species all spent thousands of years developing their cuisine. Who could ignore that treasure trove of culture and taste? Not him.
Dahl had opened Fritt's Grill almost eight years ago. The success of the restaurant had been instant and constant. The entire city ate at his restaurant. Rich and poor, young and old, drell, human, or atten, the people of New Lorraine knew good food when they saw it. Fritt was just beginning to sear the salmon onto a plank of rich hickory, when an distant voice rose over the constant cacophony of the kitchen.
"Chef Fritt? There's a guy over at table eight who wants to talk to ya." It was one of the waitresses.
"Customer?" Fritt bellowed, without turning his attention away from the salmon.
"Says he's an old pal of yours from school." Dahl stopped working and thought for a moment. Could it be him? No, he wasn't in New Lorraine. He said he was going to Shanxi. Still…
"Tell 'em I'll be right out." He shouted, wiping his greater claw off with a rag. He grabbed a passing cook.
"Finish this salmon n' brussels. Twist o' lime." The cook nodded and got to work immediately.
After straightening his chef's hat and changing into to clean apron, (Gotta look good for the customers.) Dahl walked out into the dining room. The atmosphere of the dining room was one of simple, intimate elegance. The dim lights, tile floor, and the soft, but fun music coming from somewhere all contributed to the mood. Guests ate, talked and laughed in a melody of different languages and topics. Fritt's Grill was as cosmopolitan as any Periphery republic or Federation capital.
After looking about for a few seconds, Dahl saw the man who asked for him standing by the main doors. He was tall and lanky, even for a human, and his short, dark hair stood straight up in a way that made him seem even taller. Dahl recognized him immediately.
"Scott Shaw!" He bellowed, startling a nearby family of drell. The human's head immediately whipped toward him, a grin decorating his rubbery human face.
"Dahl Fritt. You bastard, you really did it! Your own place!" The two advanced toward each other, Dahl's greater claw snapping in excitement, doing nothing to calm the family of drell. Scott gripped Dahl's lesser claw with one hand, and rested the palm of his other hand on Dahl's greater claw, a common greeting ritual between atten and non-atten.
"How long has it been since culinary school? Five years? Six? I thought you were bound for Shanxi!"
"I did! Lived the colony life, saw some nature, and sang some campfire songs. Ah, but the rustic life gets boring quickly. The appealing novelty of wild birds screeching throughout the night can wear off, believe it or not."
"Ha! From what you told me back in school, you weren't there to sleep during the night anyway, eh?" Dahl winked four of his eight eyes.
"Bah, colony girls are so damn serious. 'Oh Scott, we don't have time for sex, we have to set up the solar panels. Oh Scott, how can you be in the mood when three people were just killed by a wild animal? Oh Scott, what are you doing in my house? I told you to quit stalking me.' Nobody knows how to have fun in The Periphery." The two laughed.
"Ha! Well, you're back in the Federation where you belong. Come on, well talk in the back. Less noise."
Dahl led Scott back through the kitchens to a small, cramped excuse for an office that was rarely used, but somehow still overflowing with datapads and half-sketched pie-charts. Scott sat in a normal chair in front of the desk. Dahl's seat was standard for most atten. More of a smooth, ovular indent in the floor than anything else, about the size of a small hot tub.
"So," Asked Dahl once they had both sat, "What brings you to New Lorraine? You know there's a place for you here if you need a job." Scott shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his easy grin sliding away.
"That...uh...won't be necessary. I was uh... I was actually wondering if I could crash at your place for a few days while I get something figured out. No more than a week, I promise." Dahl thwacked his primary claw on the desk.
"Scott, of course you can! Stay as long as you need! Are you in some kind of trouble? I know a good lawyer."
"Nononono! Nothing like that. I just need to get my ducks in a row before I head on to greener pastures. A pit stop, if you will." Dahl clicked his mandibles in interest.
"Greener pastures, huh? That means 'something better,' right? Do tell!" Scott's grin slowly crawled back up his face.
"I got a job, Dahl. A good one. All those programming credits are finally paying off. I've got a job in Google's R&D lab on Mars." It can be difficult to tell if an atten is shocked, but Dahl was shocked.
"What? Google? Hey, that's great! Amazing! Where did this come from? I didn't know you were a programmer!" He stood and thumped around the room, snatching up up his personal effects.
"We gotta celebrate, Scott! I'll talk to the cooks, they can cover for me the rest of the night. You got a car? Doesn't matter, we'll take mine. NO! We'll take the air-metro because we'll be drunk within the hour. I know a great bar downtown, and, citywilling, we can be there in ten minutes flat!" Scott stood up and raised an eyebrow.
"Citywilling? Has New Lorraine woken since I left?" Now dressed in an standard atten cape and stylish hat to match, Dahl scuttled toward the door.
"Yes! Just a few months ago. I'm surprised you didn't see the signs! We can stop at the new temple if you want. You should meet the city if you'll be staying here a few days, anyway." Scott widened his near-permanent grin.
"Good idea. We can pray that help be sent if we pass out in the gutter."
Together, they hurried outside into the bustling streets of New Lorraine, their laughter echoing behind them.
Alliance Cities
In the year 2150 (Alliance Calendar), a police officer responding to a traffic accident in the city of Akna Chale reported strange occurrences regarding the automated disaster response system that were assisting her. The officer noticed that the traffic lights had turned red all along the street where the accident had occurred, which was normal. The automated lights were programmed to stop traffic in the event of an accident. The abnormalities started when the traffic lights up and down the street started changing colors again, instead of stopping traffic, it was directing it away from the accident, allowing emergency vehicles to access the scene more easily.
Things became even more peculiar when a bipedal tour robot from a nearby office complex exited the building and began assisting emergency personnel with extracting a man who was trapped in the wreck of his vehicle. When it became clear that the robot's servos, which were not designed to carry anything heavier than a food tray, could not provide any meaningful assistance, something even more extraordinary happened. The robot reached it's hand into the car, and held the hand of the trapped driver, doing it's best to comfort him. A nearby policeman, who was ordered to keep an eye on the robotic interloper, snapped a picture of this event, and it is one of the most recognized photos in Alliance space to this day.
By this time, the emergency personnel were extremely confused, and even a little bit frightened, but the robot was not getting in the way, so they were ordered to leave it alone. When the trapped driver was eventually extracted and flown to a nearby hospital, a mysterious automated market truck arrived and began distributing food and drinks to the paramedics and policemen. It was later reported that the hospital had an ER room reserved and a full report of the driver's injuries despite the paramedics having not yet sent any such report.
Completely at a loss, the Akna Chale authorities ordered a full diagnostic of the server banks in the areas of the accident, and those of the hospital. A suspiciously consistent code repetition was found. In an extended scan, the code was found in every server bank in the entire city, and even a few in the surrounding rural communities. The short version of the story is that at the city was so thoroughly augmented with public data storage, automated systems, and interconnected communications suits, that it had, at some point, become vaguely sentient. The city itself was alive. Within a few months nine other cities all over Alliance space reported similar occurrences. The tendency for Alliance cities to be so thickly equipped with high-tech analytical hardware made this phenomenon extremely common.
This revelation by the public caused large number of people to panic, but it soon became very clear that each city had the safety of it's citizens at "heart."
Unsure of what else to do the Federation government, and those of the Periphery simply let the cities be. Their newfound semi-sentience had increased productivity and decreased pollution in every single sentient city. This was not only due to the city itself. Many people started to look at the cities as a living reflection of themselves and the type of lives they were living. A noticeable and significant drop in littering and crime became the norm in sentient cities. It wasn't long before a religion was founded based around the idea of protecting, maintaining, and worshiping a citizen's respective city.
"Through serving the city, we serve the community, through serving the community, we serve each other." -Book of Urbia. Chapter 6, verse 3. Church of Urban Worship.
The actual worship of the cities was largely metaphorical. It was more of a code of conduct than an actual spiritual faith. People used the benefit of having a physical, tangible "god" watching over them, to strengthen their sense of community. The "Church of Urban Worship became extremely popular throughout the Alliance, and remains the single most popular religion in Alliance space to this day.
Alliance political situation:
When the Alliance Charter was signed by the humans, atten, and later by the drell, it did not form a single government, as one might think that it would. It simply stated that any government who signs it is treaty-bound to, among other things, defend the citizens and sovereignty of any other government which has signed the charter. This resulted in a politically united "center" of Alliance space, with a growing number of tiny solar republics and system-states forming around it's borders as more and more colonies were founded. The core systems are now known as the "Federation" and the colorful menagerie of small nations on the Federation's borders are broadly referred to as "The Periphery." Through a combination of treaties and political maneuvering, the Federation continuously and, usually peacefully, expands its territory by gobbling up small Periphery governments. The Federation can simply offer more stability and benefits than it's smaller counterparts, so convincing the inhabitants to join the Federation is usually a simple task. However, there are always those who prefer the risk and open air of colony life, so new, independent planets are continually settled, tamed, and eventually turned over to the Federation. This results in a constantly expanding Periphery, and a constantly expanding Federation. The two exist in relative harmony, which negates the necessity for any of the governments in play to maintain a large military. While this means that there is more capital left for schools, community works, and scientific ventures, it does mean that the Alliance as a whole is completely unprepared to wage war on a large scale.