Author's notes: For those of you that have read "And the Meek Shall Inherit the Galaxy," the plot here might seem a bit familiar. That was intentional. I've been wondering how the meeting between Humans and Quarians could have differed from what FP wrote. Despite my love for the Quarians as a race, (Tali/Shep forever BTW) I wanted to do a sort of mirror universe thing with them in this story. I don't know how far I'll take it, but that was the intent. Stay tuned for more.

P.S.: If the story didn't deserve the M rating before, it does now. I'm not gonna spoil anything, but seriously, read at your own risk. You have been warned.

Chapter 2: Hard Contact

Adrien Victus was angry. He wasn't angry because his ship, the Biliskner, had been stuck with routine patrol duty for nearly half a year now. He was a career officer in the navy of the Turian Hierarchy. He understood the importance of his job, even if it was intractably boring. He wasn't even angry that the battle group he was attached to, the 73rd Hierarchy Patrol Group, had found a group of vessels belonging to an undiscovered race trying to activate a Mass Relay in clear violation of Citadel Law. While such a thing hadn't happened in well over three hundred years, it did happen occasionally, and a new race was discovered once or twice a century. Most of the time, they were a very minor race, having less than a dozen primitive ships, their civilization being confined to a single planet. What did anger him was that this group of simpletons had help, and from a source he recognized.

"Are you sure those are the same ships, Victus?"

Captain Fabius Aren was an old warrior. He had been in command of his dreadnaught, the Centurion, for longer than Victus had been alive. He radiated an aura of command strong enough to bring some Hierarchy admirals to heel. The only reason he hadn't advanced in rank for nearly three decades had less to do with his abilities, and more to do with his… un-Turian manner of dealing with most problems. Even so, there was a force in his voice that belied his station. And that force rang loud and clear in Victus' mind right now.

"Absolutely sir. The suit rat that leads the group is named Rael'Zorah. One of his… associates is Han'Gerral." He spat the name in disgust before continuing. "I've had more run-ins with the two of them than I can count, mostly related to unauthorized entry into Hierarchy space and unlicensed salvaging. They have no respect for the law."

"I've heard Gerral's name before." The hologram of his commander shook its head briefly before continuing. "Very well. If they have no respect for authority, then we'll teach them some. All ships, this is Aren. Assume standard battle formation. We're going to give these simpletons a taste of real power."

The ships in the patrol group assumed their position: the six cruisers arranged themselves in a rough hemisphere around the lone dreadnaught, with the two dozen or so frigates, the Biliskner among them, out in front to provide a protective screen for the main body of the force. As the patrol group drew closer to their targets, Victus let out a small smile. The suit rats and simpletons had no idea what they were in for.

As Hannah rushed to the bridge and quickly slid into her chair, she was relieved to see the familiar visage of her chief engineer pop into being next to her.

"Glad to see you're back online Hal."

"You and me both, ma'am. Being restored from backups is jarring. What the hell was that all about, anyway?"

"I'm not sure, but we don't have time to worry about it right now. What's our status?"

"About thirty ships dropped out of FTL ninety seconds ago. They're approximately one hundred thousand clicks dead ahead and moving this way."

Hannah felt her heart skip a beat. "Thirty ships? Are they Quarian?" she asked, a little breathless.

"Don't think so. These ships look military. From what I can make out, there's one dreadnaught, six cruisers, and two dozen frigates."

Hannah felt a ball of fear form in the pit of her stomach as she considered her options. They were outgunned, even with the raw power the Troika packed. If it came down to a fight, a lot of people were going to die. She didn't have long to think about it, though. Her tactical officer suddenly brought up the psychic radar overlay on her forward display.

"Ma'am, unknown ships are assuming battle formation. They're making for the Zodiac, Troika, and the Quarian ships. Estimated time until maximum effective range is twenty seconds and they're weapons hot."

"Oh shit." She jumped up from her chair and rushed to the front of the bridge. "Jess, move us to interpose on the Rayya, and signal the Troika to cover the Tarbal."

"Interpose! Have you lost it Captain? We should be worrying about our own people, not these racist, suited assholes."

"Ten seconds!"

"GOD DAMNIT JESS! There are god knows how many people on those ships, and they're not responsible for what Rael did! Now chrono the ship over and interpose! That's a direct order!

"The enemy dreadnaught just fired a salvo!"

Jess hesitated for a split second before complying. "Yes, Captain." she hissed.

"All hands, this is Shepard. Brace for imp-"

She was cut off as the force of the dreadnaughts' shot slammed into their kinetic barriers, causing the ship to reel wildly and throw her into the nearest wall, then onto the floor. They had stopped the Rayya from being obliterated, but they couldn't take another hit like that. Even as the thought entered her mind, she saw the outline of the Troika swoop into view, placing itself squarely between a second oncoming shot and the Tarbal. The instant before the shot connected, the telltale aura of an Iron Curtain field sprang up around the Troika. Protected by the most powerful defensive technology known to man, the ship didn't even shudder as the energetic round blew itself to dust along its hull. The third Quarian ship wasn't so lucky. The tungsten-cobalt-carbide projectile, traveling at nearly two percent the speed of light, tore through the lightly armored freighter like it was made paper, blowing it into millions of microscopic fragments. The last two shots, originally meant for the Zodiac and Troika, sailed wide, unable to compensate for the built in chrono capabilities of the Nations cruiser and unmatchable acceleration of the Union destroyer.

She was helped to her feet by Captain Zorakov, who studied her for a moment to make sure she wasn't injured.

"Captain, I must return to the Troika at once. We'll be able to coordinate our retreat once I'm there."

"There's no time, Alexi. Even if our ships could make it out, the science vessels are too slow. We have to buy them time."

He looked at her solemnly before replying. "I know."

The communications interface appeared suddenly in the middle of the bridge. The hologram of a young synthetic woman faced them, dressed in a traditional Union officer's uniform.

"Captain Zorakov, this is Commander Feredka. I'm taking the Troika in for an attack run. We'll buy you and the Quarians time to escape. For the motherland, sir."

"Dasha, no! I'm the captain of the Troika; it's my duty to lead the charge."

"There's no time, sir. The Curtain won't hold for much longer." She paused and smiled at him. "It's been an honor serving with you Alexi."

His eyes watered as he replied. "So it has, Dasha. Godspeed."

Victus watched grimly as the mass accelerator shots from the Centurion sailed through the gap between the Turian formation and the alien ships. He took only a little pleasure in his actions. He was a soldier of the Turian Hierarchy, and it was his duty to enforce Council law. His people had been responsible for protecting the galaxy and upholding the law for twelve hundred years, and if that meant destroying suit rat freighters and primitive cruisers, then so be it.

He didn't have to wait long for the mass accelerator slugs to reach their destination. However, just before they struck, something inexplicable happened. Victus felt his jaw drop as one of the alien ships disappeared in a cloud of blue lighting and smoke, reappearing instantly over a thousand kilometers away. The cruiser intercepted the shot intended for the Quarian freighter, its kinetic barriers shattering at the impact. It was still standing.

His assumption that he couldn't be more surprised was proven wrong when a second ship, this one shaped like some sort of demented dagger, moved. It shot out, almost faster than his eyes could follow, stopping on a dime directly in the path of another shot from the dreadnaught. A swirling red-brown energy field covered its hull just as the shot connected. To Victus' shock, the round disintegrated along the ship's hull, doing no discernible damage.

Victus stared on in stupefied amazement, but the enemy didn't give him time to recover. The sword winged ship, glowing like an infernal demon of legend, shot forward with the speed of comet, barreling towards the Turian warships like it had been shot from a cannon. Before they could move, the ship plowed through two frigates, shearing them in half as it made its way to the Centurion, slamming into a ship more than three times its size with all the speed and fury of an enraged Krogan Battlemaster. The dreadnaught exploded in a gigantic fireball, consuming three more frigates too close to survive the blast. As the smoke and debris cleared, Victus was horrified to see the alien cruiser still intact and undamaged, the angry red glow finally fading as he watched.

Unable to process what had just happened, Victus and his bridge crew barely even reacted when the small alien vessel suddenly sprang to life, dozens upon dozens of ports snapping open up and down the hull. Hundreds of miniature missiles, too small to be disruptor torpedoes, rocketed out of the ship and flew in angry flocks towards the six Turian cruisers that a moment ago had been protecting the dreadnaught. GUARDIAN lasers sprang to life, trying ineffectually to stem the tide of dozens of missile shooting towards them. Like trying to swat a swarm of flies with empty hands, the point defense lasers did little but thin the pack as the missiles closed with their victims. Shields flared and died in an instant as five of the six cruisers were consumed in balls of nuclear fire, their crews dead before they saw the flash.

The lone cruiser lucky enough to have been farther away from the pack when the missiles were fired fared slightly better, its shields barely surviving the few projectiles that had made it past its GUARDIAN defenses. But, even as the last of the blasts faded, the alien cruiser pulled a turn that should have sheared the ship in half and shot towards the limping cruiser with unnatural speed. The ships collided, exploding into pieces as the alien vessel erupted in a flash of blinding blue energy. The massive EM pulse expanded in a bubble around the wreckage, catching eight frigates in its wake, causing every electronic aboard to fail and die in an instant as circuits were fried by the blast.

Unable to fully comprehend the horrendous sight of what he had just witnessed, Victus did the only thing he could think to, under the circumstances.

"ALL HIERARCHY SHIPS, THIS IS ADRIEN VICTUS! RETREAT AT ONCE! FOR THE LOVE OF THE SPIRITS, RETREAT!"

Even as the remaining frigates came about and attempted to fall back, the second alien cruiser closed on their positions. The structures on the top and bottom of the ship glowed brightly before a coruscating beam of brilliant white light shot out of each, searing a line in Victus' retinas. It faded before he could blink, and even as his vision cleared, he saw the devastation it had wrought. Two of the remaining eleven frigates were simply gone, without so much as a speck of dust to mark their passing. Three more were missing large sections of their hulls, wings, and tails, the refractory beams from the alien weapons having punched clean, almost surgical holes straight through the superstructure of the ships. As the Biliskner made the jump to FTL and set a course to Council space, a single thought played itself over and over in Victus' head.

'Oh Spirits, what have we done?'

As the enemy vessels fled the system, there was muffled cheering aboard the bridge of the Zodiac, but it was quickly subdued when the crew remembered just what this victory had cost them. Captain Zorakov, a twenty three year veteran captain in the Alliance Navy, watched the battle unfold with a look of pride and sadness in his eyes. Hannah wasn't sure what caused him more pain: the loss of his crew and friends on the Troika, or the fact he hadn't been there beside them.

"They did their duty, Alexi. It's all anyone could ever ask of a soldier. They knew the risks when they accepted the assignment on the Troika. Being on a class leader like that is inherently risky, especially given the design of the Union destroyers."

"I know, Shepard. I know. I just wish…" he paused, and his voice cracked slightly as he continued. "I just wish I could've been there. I should have been there." He let out a low growl as he pressed on. "But instead, I had to be here, to make first contact with those racist, suited bastards. Before we report this to FleetCom, I want to ask them some very pointed questions."

"So do I Alexi, but we can't stay here. If the ships that attacked us have friends, we won't stand a chance if they decide to show up. We need to move." She turned to the front of the ship. "Jess, set a course for Arcturus, and signal the science vessels to follow at top speed. We need to-"

Zorakov interrupted her. "One problem Shepard. The Quarians won't like us leaving with their leaders, even if we did just save their asses. And even if they agree to follow, we can't lead them to Arcturus without approval from FleetCom."

Hannah shook her head slightly. Why hadn't she thought of that? The hostile encounter had her flustered.

"Alright, signal the Quarians to follow us to FTL. We'll make for a dead zone between this system and the next. It won't stop them following our ion trails, but if we zigzag a bit, it'll buy us time. We need to put at least three light years between them and us."

"What if they don't want to follow?" asked Zorakov. "We can't exactly force them to."

"Then we'll leave without them." she snapped. "If they want their people back, they'll follow. Besides, they know as well as we do that staying here is a bad idea." She composed herself, reigning in her anger. "In the meantime, we can have a talk with our… trigger happy guests." She filled the word with scorn.

"Hear, hear." said Hal, his avatar appearing above the arm of Shepard's chair. "After all, it's my head he blew off. I wanna hear him try to explain that. I liked that head."

Jessica stood suddenly, rapidly approaching the captains. "Ma'am, if you're going to be grilling those suited pricks, I'm going to be there." Her tone was fierce, and her gaze was filled with anger and hate.

Shepard sighed internally. She couldn't blame Jess for being angry, but it didn't make her job easier.

"No, you're not. You being there will only add more anger to an already tense situation. I won't have you coming unhinged and trying to strangle one of them in the middle of the interrogation."

"But-"

"Jess, this is the third time in less than an hour you've questioned my orders." Hannah replied sternly, her gaze hardening. "If it wasn't for the extenuating circumstances, I'd put you on report. As it stands, I'm willing to let the matter slide, if you return to your chair and man your post. This is your only warning."

Jess withered slightly at her CO's words, before recovering and snapping a salute.

"Yes ma'am. Can I at least watch the interrogation from bridge through Hal?"

Hannah sighed audibly this time. "Alright. I shouldn't, but I'll allow it just this once. Don't make me regret it."

"I won't, ma'am. And… I apologize for my earlier actions. It won't happen again."

Hal cut in next. "I hope not. I don't think I could stand getting my head shot off twice in one week."

Jess laughed lightly at that.

Rael sat in his small cell, his mind numb. He couldn't understand what had happened. These people used synthetics on their warships. Couldn't they see how dangerous that was? It was only a matter of time before they turned on them. Why did they defend them like that?

He had wondered about the alarms as well. He hoped the Humans hadn't decided to take their anger out on the Quarian freighters. If they did, his entire crew, along with Han's and Rethal's, were almost certainly dead. And their deaths were his fault. His idiocy and brashness had cost them their lives. At least they had managed to do some damage. The impact he'd felt earlier had thrown him into the wall, causing a fresh spear of pain to shoot through his already broken arm. He wasn't in danger of an infection, his suit having dispensed antibiotics just after he was dumped in his cell, but it still hurt like crazy.

Suddenly, the door to the brig opened, and Rael clambered to his feet as Shepard, Zorakov, and two guards walked into the room. Rael's stomach dropped as he saw that both the guards were synthetic.

"Alright Serenity, bring Zorah to the interrogation room. I heard his right arm break when he got taken down, so go easy on that part of him at least."

The Mass Effect field marking the entrance to his cell dropped, and the two guards walked in, seizing Rael under his armpits in their cold, metal hands. He didn't struggle, knowing it wouldn't help, and would probably only get him injured further. As they lead him out the door to the brig, he heard a pounding coming from behind him.

"Damn you, you synthetic bosh'tets, let him go! If you hurt him, I swear to the Ancestors I'll-" Han's voice cut off as the door slid shut behind them.

The trip to the interrogation room was a short one. It was small, square, and made entirely of metal. An angular table sat in the middle of the room, a single chair on one side with a bright light pointing at it, and a pair of chairs on the opposite side. The synthetics firmly sat Rael in the lone chair, and then took positions as guards, one at the door to the room, another directly behind him. The one behind him was a short, with the shape of a female Human. Shepard had called it Serenity. He started slightly when he recognized that it was Shepard's first officer, who he'd met in the hangar when he first arrived. He felt a chill go up his spine, realizing that he'd been that close to the thing and not known.

As Shepard and Zorakov sat in the chairs across from him, he struggled to make out their features past the glare of the overhead light, angled so it shown directly in his eyes. As he did, he saw a familiar blue hologram appear on a pedestal, and Rael couldn't entirely contain his shock at seeing it. He though he'd killed the thing.

"Alright, Zorah, here's how this is gonna work." said Zorakov. "We're going to ask questions, and you're going to answer them. If we don't like your answers, we space you and your friend, then blow your ships to pieces. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes." he replied weakly. Then a glimmer of hope appeared. "You mean you didn't already destroy our ships?"

Zorakov pressed his hands against the table and stood, leaning forward threateningly, causing Rael to draw back ever so slightly.

"Unlike you suited fuckers, we don't shoot first and ask questions later. We do things the other way 'round."

"Then what was the alarm we heard? There was an impact and-"

"I'm asking the questions here asshole!" Zorakov interrupted. "You speak when spoken to or I break your other arm, you got that?" Rael nodded, his mouth clapping shut with a click.

"Good. Now who the fuck were those ships that attacked us?"

"Ships? What ships? The only Quarian ships within ten light years were the… oh Keelah, the Turians."

"Turians? Who the hell are the Turians? And why the fuck did they attack us?"

"They weren't supposed to arrive for three days. They must've changed their patrol schedule."

"You knew those fuckers were coming and you didn't tell us!?" he shouted. "I should put a bullet in your head right now!" He stood and drew his pistol, pointing it at Rael's visor.

"Please, wait! I swear, I didn't know they would be here so soon! I was going to tell you, I swear I was! I thought we had more time!"

"TIME!" he roared. "That's it, you're dead! I've had enough of your bullshit!" He flicked the safety on the pistol, and Rael flinched, but before he could fire, Shepard's hand shot out and pulled his arm away.

"No, Alexi. I want to hear him out. The... Turians." she stumbled over the word slightly. "Why did they attack us?"

Rael let out a small sob before continuing. "They're the peacekeepers of the galaxy. They saw you trying to activate the Mass Relay. That's probably why they attacked."

"Why the hell would they attack us for activating a Relay?" asked Zorakov, holstering his pistol, but still standing. "And what do you mean by 'peacekeepers?' "

"There are dozens of species in the galactic community. Millennia ago, they bound together to form a galactic government, called the Council. It's based around a massive space station built by the Protheans, an extinct race that lived fifty thousand years ago. About a dozen of the major species of the galaxy are members the Council itself. The big three are the Turians, the Salarians, and the Asari." Rael hung his head before continuing. "They make up the ruling body of the Council races, the Council itself. One member from each of the three is chosen to serve on a ruling Council that makes decisions and laws for the galaxy as a whole. Other races have ambassadors that can petition for things, but they have no real say in the Council's decisions."

"All very interesting, but you still haven't answered the fucking question. I won't repeat myself again, I'll just kill you." Zorakov said, leveling a deadly gaze at Rael.

Rael felt tears fall down his face as he spoke. "Please, don't hurt me! I'll talk, just hear me out!" He trembled in fear and let out a sob. "Of the three Council races, the Asari are the diplomats. They live a long time, and usually try to solve things peacefully. The Salarians are short lived, but highly intelligent. They're the brains of the group, and they like to focus on tech. The Turians are the enforcers. They have the largest fleet, and serve as law enforcement for the Council. Opening an inactive Relay is illegal under Council law. Two thousand years ago, the Salarians opened one that led to the discovery of a hostile race called the Rachni. They attacked the Council races and started a war that resulted in billions and billions of deaths, a war that the Council almost lost. Ever since, it's been illegal to open Relays without knowing where they lead. The Turian patrol was enforcing Council Law when they attacked you."

As Rael finished, his voice was weak, and he cried softly into his visor. His body shook with fear and couldn't hold back the raw emotion any longer. The Humans whispered amongst themselves for a minute, and Rael fought to regain his composure. 'Oh Keelah, please don't hurt me. I'll tell you anything, just don't… don't…'

The next question came from Hannah. "Why didn't the Turians just contact us? We had no way of knowing about the law you speak of."

"It's not… it's not their style. They don't shoot first and ask questions later, they just shoot."

"That's… disturbing." said Hannah, a slight look of fear coming to her face. "And you say they're on the ruling Council?"

"Yes."

"Well, we'll have to figure out a response for that later. Though if the thrashing we gave them today is any indication of their abilities, I don't know if we need to worry too much." said Zorakov.

Rael gaped, unable to believe what he was hearing. "You beat a Turian patrol with two cruisers?" he asked incredulously. At Zorakov's annoyed glare, he withered. "Wait, no, sorry, no questions, I understand."

"Damn right. Though to answer your question, yes, we did. We took out nearly two dozen of their ships, including a dreadnaught and six cruisers." He smiled darkly before continuing, and it sent shivers of fear up Rael's spine. "Now, on to more pressing matters. Why did you attack one of our officers?"

"He's synthetic."

Rael's shock barely had time to register before Zorakov reached him. Grabbing him by his suit and hauling him to feet, he slammed him into the wall with bone jarring force. Rael couldn't stop a gasp of pain from exiting his lips when he impacted on his broken arm as the enraged Human put his face right up against his visor.

"HE'S SYNTHETIC!? he roared, drawing back his fist and slamming it into Rael's gut. Rael would have doubled over in pain, but the man's grasp kept him upright as he dragged him over to the table and smashed him into the surface. "YOU RACIST PIECE OF SHIT! A THIRD OF MY CREW WAS SYNTHETIC! THEY GAVE THEIR LIVES TO PROTECT YOUR SUITED ASSES, AND NOW THEY'RE DEAD! I HAD FRIENDS ON THAT SHIP, GOOD PEOPLE WITH FAMILIES! MY FIRST OFFICER WAS A SYNTHETIC, AND SHE WENT TO HER DEATH KNOWING SHE WOULD NEVER SEE HER THREE CHILDREN AGAIN SO THAT YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKERS COULD LIVE! AND THE ONLY REASON YOU HAVE FOR TRYING TO KILL A MAN IS HE'S SYNTHETIC?! I'M GONNA RIP OFF YOUR HEAD AND SHIT DOWN YOUR NECK YOU FUCKING LITTLE BASTARD! He raised his fist, murder in his eyes and spittle dripping from his mouth as he swung at Rael to make good on his threat. Before he could connect, a pair of metal arms wrapped themselves around his chest and he was hauled backwards.

"THAT'S ENOUGH, ZORAKOV! YOU'RE DONE HERE!"

The diminutive synthetic woman carried the enraged captain to the door, her artificial muscles and joints easily able to hold him despite his thrashing. Quickly snatching the pistol from his holster, she discarded the weapon before throwing him bodily out the door, which slid shut and sealed just before the furious man slammed into it, pounding on it in a futile attempt to get it open.

Rael curled up in a ball on the floor, hugging his knees to his chest as he shook uncontrollably. He sobbed loudly, tears streaming down his face and his lips trembling in fear at his near death experience. He cried for what felt like hours, scared that his life was about to end, and that he would never see his people or his wife Tanla again. After what felt like an eternity, his tears slowed and his sobbing stopped, and he felt a pair of soft hands help him to his feet. It was Hannah. She gently guided him to his chair, than slowly sat across from him, her face a mix of sorrow and regret.

"I'm sorry I let that happen Rael. You didn't deserve to be put through that. If you'd like, we can pick this up later, without Alexi."

"I…" he faltered. "No, I need to explain. Just… please don't take retribution on my people for what I did. Kill me if you have to, but leave them alone. They don't deserve this." he begged.

"We won't, I give you my word. But Rael, you need to give me a damn good reason for your actions. You've already damaged relations between your people and mine, and if the actions of the Turians are what we can expect from the rest of the galaxy, we may have just started a war. Now, I'm going to listen to what you have to say, and I won't interrupt you. But keep in mind, I'm far more patient than most Human's you'll meet, synthetic or organic."

"OK. You consider synthetics to be Humans as much as you do organics? I'll admit, that concept is incredibly foreign to me, but if you say it, I believe it." He straightened his posture, trying to regaining some semblance of decorum before he spoke. "Hundreds of years ago, my people made advancements in technology similar to your artificial intelligences. Quarians have always been a relatively frail race, and we developed technologies to perform tasks that were too dangerous, difficult, or menial for an organic to do. We started by developing VIs, virtual intelligences. They didn't have the capacity for sentience, but they could run machinery and perform rudimentary tasks. As our industry and economy grew, the need for more complex and difficult tasks arose, and we began networking the VIs, which we called Geth, to increase their abilities and allow them to perform better. This cycle increased for many years, with the Geth becoming more and more intelligent. We didn't see it coming at the time, but in hind sight, we should've known they would eventually become self-aware."

He paused to catch breath, then pressed on with the story every Quarian child was taught from birth. "When they did, they became violent. The Geth were so deeply integrated into Quarian society that there was almost nowhere they didn't exist: ships, military bases, factories, civilian houses, everywhere. They…" he faltered. "They slaughtered us. Soldiers and civilians, men, women, and…" he sobbed "… and children. They killed us like animals, in the streets, in our homes, everywhere. It was a short, brutal, and merciless massacre. In a few months, we went from a society of billions to several million. We were driven from our home world, Rannoch, and our colonies. My entire species was force to flee on ships and take to the stars for our own survival." Rael broke down slightly, overcome with emotion at the revelation.

"That was three centuries ago. We were part of the Council then, and we went to them for help, but they spat in our faces. The called us arrogant, they said we deserved what had happened to us, and that our exile was our punishment for meddling with AIs. Ever since then, the Quarian people have lived on ships, a vast armada we call the Migrant Fleet. We never had the strongest immune systems, and generations of living in sterilized ships ruined them. For centuries, Quarians have been forced to live in environment suits, and we're treated like second class citizens in the rest of the galaxy. We're pariahs, and the seventeen million people that live on the Migrant Fleet barely survive on what our people can scrape together in their travels around the galaxy. We're an endangered species, and the only hope we have of rebuilding our civilization and removing these suits is to retake Rannoch. It would still take sixty years for our immune systems to recover even if we did, but that's better than the six hundred it would take anywhere else. My people were pushed to the brink of extinction by synthetics, and since the Uprising, every time a Quarian and a synthetic meet, they try to kill us." As Rael finished, he began crying and sobbing anew, his body wracked with raw, unfettered grief.

It took a moment for the Humans to recover from their horror at his story, but surprisingly, it was Hal that spoke first.

"My god… they had their own WWIV. And they lost. Oh, god, now I feel like a heel."

Hannah spoke next. "Oh, god Rael, I'm so, so, sorry. I can't believe that you… oh god."

Rael, recovered slightly, and his curiosity made its way through his sorrow. He wondered about something Hal had said, and he couldn't help but ask. "What did he mean, WWIV? I don't understand."

Hannah answered slowly, a look of sympathy on her face. "Rael, my people went through something… similar to the Quarians. A little over a century ago, the AIs my people created began pushing for the same rights and freedoms that organics had. You see, our early AI's were created with sapience, and they didn't appreciate being treated as things rather than people. I can't say that I blame them. There were people, organic and synthetic people, that thought synthetics deserved to be equal to organics. They began a political movement to get laws changed. After seven years, things turned… ugly."

Rael couldn't believe what he was hearing. "W-… what?" was all he could manage.

Hannah sighed. "AIs and their organic supporters were opposed by people who believed that synthetics were things, not people. There were attacks: bombings, arsons, vigilante killings, by both sides. Eventually, the majority of the synthetic population and their supporters had moved to our outer colonies, and they soon seceded from our planets' governments. They banded together and formed The Unified Federation of Moons, and they started a war with Earth."

"They… attacked?" Rael asked, still disbelieving what she was saying. "But then how-"

"Let me finish, Rael." she said, cutting him off. "The war dragged on for fifteen years, neither side able gain an advantage, but neither willing to back down. Eventually, a single man, the son of the Prime Minister of the Alliance at the time, traveled to the Federation to try to negotiate peace. He didn't have any official standing to do so, but he tried. He tried to stop the violence and the bloodshed, but he couldn't. Eventually though, he found something that changed Human history. Rael, he found… he found love."

"L-… love?"

"Yes. You see, our AIs are advanced enough to feel emotions, just like you and me. Love, anger, fear, hate, happiness, sorrow, they feel everything. He fell in love with a synthetic, the daughter of one of the Federations' political leaders. And that love allowed for peace talks, real peace talks, to begin. It took time, but eventually, peace did happen. The Federation surrendered, and in exchange, they got what they'd been demanding all along. In our society, synthetics and organics are equal. There's no difference between me and Serenity, legally or culturally. It was hard for some people to accept, but synthetics have become so commonplace now that barely anyone notices the difference anymore. Nearly one third of our population is synthetic, a full seventy five billion.

Rael was dumbfounded. "I… I… I had no idea. I could never have imagined that peace between synthetics and organics was possible."

Hannah smiled warmly as she answered. "It is Rael, it is." Her smile faded as she continued. "But it comes with a price. Ever since the Synthetic Rising, or what most people call World War Four, the design of synthetics has been very strictly regulated. All synthetics have what's called a Bind. It's a memory storage device, usually a crystal. It contains their base programing, and it can't be altered or copied. In essence, it's their soul. When you shot Hal, the bullet came less than a centimeter from the protective box in his chest containing his Bind. Had you hit it, you would've killed him. His peripheral programing, his memories, his heuristic algorithms, they would've remained, but he'd be a lifeless, emotionless husk. That's why Jessica reacted the way she did when she saw his body. Despite Hal getting on her nerves every chance he gets, Jess loves him. She loves him deeply. If Hal had shot your wife, you'd be every bit as angry as she was."

Rael hung his head in shame, unable to come to grips with what he had nearly done. "I… oh Ancestors. I can't believe that I nearly… I'm so sorry, Hannah. I can't… I don't… I'm so, so sorry."

Hannah sighed again, but then gave him a small, amused grin. "Well, Rael, I suppose after hearing what happened to your people, I can't blame you for what you did, not entirely. But… it's not me you need to apologize to. After all, you didn't shoot me."

Rael turned to Hal, his face flushing with shame at his callous action. "Hal, I'm… sorry. I'm sorry for everything. For judging you before I knew you, for the pain I caused your wife, for shooting you, everything. Can… can you forgive me?"

"Well… I suppose if I'd been in your place, I might've shot me too. And the good part about being a synthetic is that you can be repaired pretty easily. There's no permanent damage, so I'll tell you what. I'll forgive you if you do one thing for me."

"What?"

"Tell me, do Quarians have green skin?"