These first few chapters are coming out so quickly because I had a rough draft of the first five done before I posted the first chapter. So postings will likely slow down after the next chapter or two.
Chapter 4
Amanda Briggs resisted the urge to slam her head into the bulkhead in frustration. Last thing she needed was to give herself a concussion, no matter how tempting the idea might seem right now. Even after the Systems Alliance had sent in professional diplomats to help with the peace talks with the turians, she had still been a major part of the Systems Alliance negotiating team. She was grateful they hadn't booted her from the table because being a part of such a momentous moment would easily be parlayed into bigger things for her career. Something she intended to capitalize on.
When she had been approached by Member of the Parliament Haugseng, who offered her the chance to handle negotiations with another of the new alien species they had recently become aware of, she had originally been confused. Shouldn't something like that be handled by the ambassador on the Citadel and their team of diplomats and staff? MP Haugseng told her it wasn't with a Citadel race, but rather with a nomadic species that had been kicked off the Citadel centuries ago. She had jumped at the chance. If this succeeded she'd be able to get any job she wanted. That was almost two months ago, now she cursed herself for accepting.
Nothing had been officially accepted by the quarians. The Systems Alliance didn't want the Council knowing that they were trying to open up a partnership with the quarians. The Alliance had little trust for the turians, and Amanda guessed that extended to their allies. Without knowing where the Migrant Fleet was, the requests for a meeting had been given to a young quarian with the hope they'd be able to pass the message along to the rest of the fleet. They had no way of knowing when the message would be delivered, or rather, if the message would be delivered. So they had to sit and wait to see if the quarians would meet with them or not.
They'd been waiting for almost six weeks. In the present times, with everything going on, six weeks was a long time to be cut off from the rest of human society. Because of the secrecy of their mission, they were not allowed to send or receive any communications. The only things they had for entertainment was what was on the ship, and that was it. Captain Bolton had his crew constantly scanning for foreign engine drives, but so far the scans had come back negative.
The navy personnel and the fireteam of marines, who numbered twelve in total, were used to spending weeks in space with naught to do. She was not. She had been a government liaison on the newest established colony, a position she held for eight months and that had her feet firmly planted on the ground. Before that, she had worked as a senior assistant for the Systems Alliance representative in the Persian Republic for four years. Another position that had her feet firmly planted on the ground.
The files given to her about the quarians, everything they knew about the species of nomadic aliens, had been read over, thrice. Theirs was a sad tale, a tale about the cautions of artificial intelligence. To be chased from your homeworld by your very creations must have been humiliating. The size of their fleet was mind boggling, but when one remembered that over two thirds of them were civilian ships, it didn't seem so large.
While the corvette they were on had the platform to hold an AI, the highly valued intelligences were in too short of supply for a small ship like the SSV Henry Hudson to have one. That was likely one of the reasons the ship, a surveying ship that explored new systems, had been selected. Its data room, where all the information collected during its explorations was stored and could be reviewed, had been gutted and turned into a conference room. A long mahogany table with a dozen chairs bolted to the deck. Large photos of Earth in all its beauty, both natural and manmade, lined the walls. Amanda guessed the images of Earth were to invoke a longing of a home in the quarians she was to, hopefully, meet with.
"Diplomat Briggs, you are needed on the bridge," the Captain said, his voice echoing from the speakers in her room.
She looked up from the datapad she had been reading, one she had already read a few times. It was an official decree from the Prime Minister that listed everything she was authorized to offer to the quarians, which was almost anything they wanted. The one thing she could not give them, something the Prime Minister seemed sure they would ask, is promise them the manpower needed to retake their homeworld. Not only because the Systems Alliance was too weak compared to the great powers of the galaxy and didn't want to leave itself even more vulnerable, but because every major warship in their navy had an AI, and they had no way of knowing how their AI and the geth would interact.
Amanda made her way from her room, which she thankfully didn't have to share with anyone, through the gray corridors, and finally to the bridge. The Captain, as was standard on SSV ships, stood at the center of the room. Unlike the larger ships, which had the bridge separate from the CIC, in a corvette they shared the same space at the front of the ship. She could see that all of the naval personnel were at their stations. The last time she had seen that was shortly after they entered the system thirty-nine days ago.
"Captain, you called?"
Captain Bolton turned to look at her before turning back to the console in front of him.
"Scans have detected engine drives entering the system, on the other side of the star. Should be in sight in a couple of hours."
"How many?" she asked.
"A hundred."
She swallowed heavily. She really hoped those ships were the quarians.
At the top of Citadel Tower was a large open space called the Council Chambers; which are full of trees and beautiful fountains. Sets of stairs in the anterooms lead up to the Council's audience chamber, across from which is a raised platform in which the Council conducts their business. Beneath the stage is a garden protected by glass. Multiple walkways lined the walls around the audience chamber. Today had been a rather busy day, with decisions needing to be made. Most of them were disputes between companies owned by different species. Disputes like one about an asari mining company and a volus mining company both claiming rights to a meteor rich in ore. They had to be fair, without showing favoritism to their own races. It was a difficult job, because even if the asari company was 100% in the right, there would still be those who accused them of favoring one of their species and looking down on the others. To walk such a tightrope at all times was tiring for all of the Councilors, even if they didn't admit it.
When those more mundane things were done, they turned their attention to another task that needed to be taken care of. While they weren't official members of the Citadel, the appearance of humans meant the galaxy was that much larger and that much more populated, all in the blink of an eye. That they couldn't call the humans allies made them all the more worried.
That meant that those who watched over and protected the galaxy needed to grow with it. Forty-five days ago a call had gone out, to bring forth suitable candidates to be judged and weighed. Three dozen names had been put forth of some of the greatest warriors in the galaxy; asari commandos, salarian STG, turian Blackwatch, batarian SIU, and even a drell saboteur. Their records had been scrutinized and each of them had gone through multiple interviews, interrogations really, about everything their records said, and some things their records didn't say. Some faltered under the intense questioning, some lashed out in terrible anger, and some kept their composure, answering the questions without hesitation.
Those who made it passed to the next stage in the evaluation were watched. Any missions they were sent on, they had a handler; someone to see how they reacted under pressure, see the choices they made, and see the type of person they were. One mission turned to two, turned to three. The content of their characters were determined and decisions were made. By the end of it all, they had their chosen few.
In front of them stood a group of eleven, three each of the Council races, a batarian, and the single drell saboteur. It had been decades since a race besides one of the Council races was selected to be a Spectre, let alone two, and it had been centuries since they had this many new Spectres to add to the ranks, but circumstances made it necessary.
On the walkways and platforms that ringed the area around the Council, a large crowd made up of members of all of the Citadel races had gathered to watch. Amongst the crowd, was Operations Chief Mikhail Bortsov, who looked on with carefully guarded eyes. He had read about the Spectres, at least the official reports the Council put out, and he had heard the talk in the bars from the everyday citizens about the kind of missions Spectres went on, and the autonomy they had. That a new group was joining the ranks so close to the First Contact War? Definitely not a coincidence.
"Candidates," Tevos said, looking upon the eleven who stood before her, "step forward."
As one the eleven candidates took a step forward. Their shoulders were back, arms straight at their side, and chins held high. Each of them swelled with pride at what they had accomplished.
"It is the decision of the Council that you be granted all of the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Council."
"Spectres are not trained, but chosen," Marock continued. "Individuals forged in the fire of service and battle; those whose actions elevate them above the rank and file."
"Spectres are an ideal, a symbol. The embodiment of courage, determination, and self-reliance. They are the right hand of the Council, instruments of our will. "
"Spectres bear a great burden," Sparatus said. "They are protectors of galactic peace, both our first and last line of defense. The safety of the galaxy is theirs to uphold."
"This is a great accomplishment for you all."
Among the candidates, Saren Arterius, distinguished veteran from the Relay 314 Incident only three months ago and the youngest turian to ever become a Spectre, grinned.
Rile'Meesa vas Shaanna wore a few hats for the Migrant Fleet. On top of being the captain of one of the ships in the civilian fleet, and a mother raising a young quarian who had just gotten her first envio-suit, a big moment in any child's life, she was also their top diplomat. When the fleet had important business to discuss with one of the other races, she had been the one to go discuss it on their behalf.
So when the humans had asked for a meeting, and the Conclave had, after much deliberation, agreed to it, she had been sent. She hadn't gone with her own ship of course, no way would they risk one of the liveships in a meeting with another species, especially a new one they had never interacted with before. She had gone as a passenger on the Alerai, with one hundred ships, a mixture of the heavy fleet and the patrol fleet, at their side. Upon arriving in the system and establishing contact with the lone human vessel, she had been ferried over to the tiny craft.
Humans were odd to look at. They, especially the female ones, reminded her of the asari and they had similarities to the quarians as well. This meeting, the first of a few that would take place she assumed, was mostly controlled by the sole human she met with. She told Rile'Meesa what the humans were looking for and what they were willing to offer. Both of which had left her speechless. The decisions were way beyond her, they were way beyond the Admiralty Board as well. No, something this large would have to be decided by the Conclave.
So she stood in the Alerai's communication room, the holographic images of the Admiralty Board around her. She would tell them of the meeting, and they would present it to the Conclave to vote on.
After pleasantries had been exchanged, they cut straight to the heart of the matter.
"What do the humans want?" Admiral Yaf'Hemin vas Rupal asked.
"They want a dozen of our ships."
A heavy mixture of outrage and disbelief went up at that. All of the admirals were talking at once, and it was hard to distinguish the curse words of one over the curse words of another. It took a few moments for order to be restored amongst the Admirals.
"The gall of these humans to even think to ask such a thing!" Admiral Yela'Vofal vas Ronil seethed. "Do they know nothing about us?"
"They are aware of our history and our current plights," Rile'Meesa answered.
Angry mutters went up from four of the five admirals. The fifth did his best to keep his anger in check, knowing this continual rise to anger would only delay what this meeting was really about.
"Admirals, please, I'm sure there is more," Admiral Kaer'Weeme vas Shonbay cried, calling for patience amongst his peers. "Please continue, Captain."
"Yes Admiral. They also would like some of our scientists and engineers to travel to some of their worlds, to lend them our knowledge and experience."
"And what do they offer?"
Rile'Meese took a deep breath. "To build us a settlement on one of their colony worlds."
For a moment none of the admirals could say anything. She was sure if she could see beneath their masks, their mouths would be agape. Before they got over their shock, she took the opportunity to finish going over their offers.
"To replace the ships we give them with new ones, built from their shipyards. To provide us with metals, alloys, computer parts, and anything else we need to repair our ships, and the space to dock at one of their shipyards to complete those repairs."
"They would give us a place to settle," Admiral Yaf'Hemin vas Rupa breathed, almost in awe.
"Their ship," Admiral Nila'Camis vas Jazzor started, her voice curious, "did you get a good look at it?"
"Not really Admiral, it was small and it appeared primitive. The human I met with, she told me they had only just discovered Prothean ruins and mass relays. That faster than light travel, and kinetic barriers, and things like that are still new to them. Since the Council limits trade with them, I think that is why they want our ships and our knowledge, so they can advance to the levels of everyone else."
"And what of this AI of theirs?"
"There was none on the ship I was on, their attempt to be sensitive to our history I assume. They sound different from geth, but without seeing it for myself I am unable to say."
If the humans weren't going to give up their AI to join the Citadel, they certainly weren't going to give it up to work with the quarians. So the question then became, could they knowingly work with a species who relied so much on artificial intelligence after what the geth had done to them?
The SSV New York was a heavy cruiser, fresh out of the Luna shipyards and the first of the York-class heavy cruisers. Its armor was a full meter thicker than the standard SSV cruiser, which meant it was slower but it could take a few more shots than its lighter counterparts. The kinetic barriers on it were top of the line, at least for humans. Their kinetic barriers had taken a step forward after the end of the First Contact War, but they were still many steps short of the rest of the galaxy.
It had two main guns that ran almost the full length of the ship, all 710 meters of it. Its 106 broadside guns, 53 on each side, were ready to dish out punishment at a moments notice. Between the broadside guns were the point defense guns, 50mm guns, and along the top of the ship were six torpedo launch tubes, ready to load and fire at a moment's notice.
The engine was a top of the line Dewar NF/ME, which combined their best advancement in nuclear fusion engines with their limited understanding of mass effect fields and element zero as a means to achieving FTL. It replaced the previous engines that relied on the thrusters to slowly build up to FTL speeds, those that had first allowed them to travel to Proxima Centauri and establish their first non-Sol colony of Demeter but had taken a few months to go from system to system.
It hadn't even been three hours after the dry run had been performed, the entire crew had been waiting in the Luna Armstrong Shipyard shuttle bay for shuttles to take them down to Earth for a few days of rest and relaxation. That is until Captain Capaldi, her holo-watch flashing with a priority alert from the Alliance, had been given strict instructions to bring the SSV New York to coordinates in Argos Rho, and to do so with all haste.
Her 300 personnel crew, plus seventy-five marines attachment, had been shocked when she had demanded all hands back to the ship and to their stations double time. The few days of shore leave they were supposed to be getting before getting their official assignment vanished in an instant. Some looked at the shuttles that were supposed to ferry them down to Earth with longing, but all filed out of the shuttle bay and to the tram system that would bring them to the docks.
Her mission, which was at the highest levels of classified and not to be shared with any of her crew until they were well on their way, was to meet with the SSV Henry Hudson, a diplomatic vessel meeting with a quarian flotilla to discuss terms of a partnership between the two species. When she had arrived in the system, scans had told her there were over 150 ships and only one of them was a fellow Alliance ship.
She could see the mass of ships that occupied the space near the Alliance corvette as they accelerated further into the system. They were a hodgepodge of different model ships, their designs varying greatly. Some looked like older versions of the turian frigates they had been fighting a few months ago, like over a century old. Others looked even older than that. The majority appeared to be ships of war with their main guns and broadside guns. One of the ships was the size of a freighter but there were no visible armaments on it. Most of the ships had mismatched metal plating with weld marks crossing the hull. This was a flotilla all but held together by duct tape.
Moving deeper into the system, they found themselves hailed by the SSV Henry Hudson. They wanted to establish a videocom link between the two ships. So Captain Capaldo found herself in the SSV New York's communication room, being told what was expected of her.
"The quarians want to see one of our ships," Amanda Briggs, the civilian who was handling the negotiations, explained via videocom. "They want to see our systems, our engines, our weapons, and most importantly, our AI."
"You want me to let aliens board my ship so they can study it?" Captain Capaldi asked. "It boasts the newest technologies of the fleet! That goes against every regulation we have!"
"Technologies their battered fleet already surpass by far. Their kinetic barriers make ours look like we wrapped our ships in saran wrap. I already made Alliance Command aware of what the quarians had asked. You wouldn't have been ordered here if the Alliance didn't approve."
The order had come from Fleet Admiral Grissom, fresh off his promotion from his actions in the First Contact War. If he was the one issuing the orders, then they likely came straight from Alliance Command, maybe even the Prime Minister himself.
Captain Capaldi took a deep breath. "Aye. Then they have my permission to board. I'll alert the crew."
The videocom ended. She pinched the bridge of her nose. Showing off the best technology in the fleet to a bunch of aliens. What was the brass thinking?
"Liberty."
A holographic image of a woman who bore a striking resemblance to the Statue of Liberty appeared in the holotank that was off to the side in the communications room.
"Yes Captain?" Liberty asked.
Captain Capaldi hesitated a moment. She had been a part of Admiral Grissom's counterattack against the turians, after the bird aliens had taken Shanxi, but she hadn't seen the turians up close. She hadn't seen any of the other aliens up close either. This was going to be her first experience, and it was going to be by allowing them onto her top of the line warship. Was she really doing this?
"Alert the crew to expect a shuttle and to keep their staring to a minimum. We're to have … guests."
