Xiphos emerged from relay 314 with a flash of light, followed seconds later by Elia. In front of them was the Asari second fleet, broad swathes of frigates and fighters surrounding the relay, ready to storm the space beyond 314 in a swift fury should trouble arrive. It seemed the Citadel had been busy in the weeks since the exploration fleet went through the relay.
The fleet was buzzing with activities, the daily fighter patrols whirring around the fleet and the relay they were guarding. Large, lumbering resupply ships delivered fresh food and munitions to the frigates in the back lines. The sleek hulls of the Asari frigates glinted in the starlight displaying an impressive show of strength. The Turians may be the right fist of the Citadel, but Asari influence still ruled the galaxy. This fleet certainly would show any intruder from the relay what the wrong end of Asari diplomacy could look like.
But Xiphos and Elia didn't stop, instead blazing ahead, with short and quick bursts of classified information transmitted through the coms, and security clearances and orders to proceed to the Citadel.
It turns out the words "artificial intelligence" and "hostile fleet holding Turians at gunpoint" warranted priority routing to the Citadel.
Normally, the two science vessels would brief a courier vessel, and transfer relevant data. But with the pentabytes of survey and scanning data onboard Xiphos, any time saved with a faster vessel would be wasted on the days of classified data encryptions and transfers. And so, Xiphos and Elia pushed their engines to their limits in a race across citadel space.
A volunteer relief worker on Essus was clearing out an apartment block, sifting through abandoned clothing, rotting food, and a thick settling layer of dust. She listed to their supply ships in orbit complain about the Asari vessels that had just sped through the system, and how the space traffic controller wondered out loud how two Asari research vessels had gotten their hands on Turian military prioritization codes.
A pirate captain watched from the shadow of a nearby moon as two very expensive looking Asari ships raced across the sky. He thought he would ambush them when they stopped to survey the system, as so many ships had before them. Scientists weren't known to have the best street smarts in the galaxy. Instead, the two vessels zipped through the system, without even a momentary pause upon exiting the relay.
A commander of a Turian planetary defense fleet challenged the speeding vessels upon their exit from the relay, only to be surprised by Turian access codes, transmitted impossibly quickly and in perfect order from the civilians. Before the commander could recover from his momentary lapse in professionalism, the vessels were already long past his fleet, burning a path across the veil of space towards the nearest relay.
On and on, they went. System after system.
They stopped for nobody, and nobody stopped them. Civilian traffic parted like a wave at the behest of the controllers, indignant at being bypassed by the pair of sleek Asari craft.
The normally weeks long journey across the congested space in more populated regions of the galaxy was shrunk down to days. Not without a cost, of course. Elia's port thruster blew a drive bearing, and she was towed to a nearby shipyard by a Volus tug.
And Xiphos burned on, continuing her desperate tear across Citadel space.
Aboard Xiphos, the fevered hum of the eezo drive haunted the dreams of the crew. The ship was a sauna, and the excessive heat from running the core and engines at full capacity meant that the ship's thermal radiators could barely keep up. The heavy-duty expedition jumpsuits quickly gave way to tank-tops and training shorts. Crew favorite activities ground to a halt. Suddenly, running on a treadmill in the ship's gym didn't seem like such a great idea for the quickly overheating crew. The lab coats of the science decks remained on their hooks on the walls, as their owners were busy jury rigging "get-cool-quick" schemes out of the chemicals and machines in their labs. Not out of any ship-wide order, of course, but rather a desire for sweet relief from the humidity and heat.
On the command deck, bridge officers had to wipe sweat from their consoles, and the uniform regulations had been informally abolished, a temporary truce in the constant battle between professionalism and comfort. Many dreamed of leave on the beaches of Thessia, where they could be away from the oppressive heat of Xiphos. Some even wished they were back under the guns of the alien fleet, where at least the Xiphos' conditioning systems could keep them cool.
But they had finally made it, emerging through the Citadel relay to face the hoard of military and civilian traffic that always accompanied transit.
When they relayed their clearance, they were quickly cleared to land on the nearest open docking bays to the presidium.
And when they landed, the Xiphos' captain was met with a group of C-Sec officers, and was rushed past a not insignificant crowd, surging forward what had caused the commotion.
An otherwise modest Asari vessel landing in a bay usually reserved for high-ranking diplomats? Something was up. An in the presidium, where finishing in second place meant you might as well have finished, last, soon the press joined the throng. And an Asari in a science-corps officer's jumpsuit being rushed into down the street by C-Sec certainly didn't match their expectations. Nor did the harsh smell of ozone and heavy scorching near the still cooling thrusters at Xiphos' stern. Nor did the disheveled crew wearing as little as possible as they disembarked.
But their questions would go unanswered by the carefully coached crew and police. And the public would remain unaware. For now.
Sparatus listened to the Volus lobbyist drone on. His proposal was had long since looped back on itself, reviewing old arguments and re-justifying policies already discussed. Sparatus was used to this of course, it was one of the facts of councilor life. He had power at his very fingertips, but with that power, came the obligation to listen to self-serving politicians drone on about which measure would land the most money in their pockets.
Sparatus couldn't wait until the foreign lobbyists left for the day. The council would still have to review local citadel policies, but at least that would only be in the company of his fellow councilors. For now, though, he was stuck listening to the Volus, his gaze idling on the uninspired charts and figures being presented. He almost missed his days in the military. At least then the monotony was occasionally broken by somebody shooting at him.
All the sudden there was a chime, as a party of C-Sec parted to allow an Asari dressed in the uniform of the science corps to burst into the chambers. She wore an exhausted expression, and her eyes betrayed the stress she had been under. Dark blue bags formed on her otherwise light blue skin beneath her eyes. His aide hurried quickly to his side. The aide looked distressed, his eyes wide and mandibles twitching. Usually, his aide would simply announce a new guest over the intercom, but this time, he rushed over and whispered in Sparatus' ear.
"The commander of the Xiphos sir, part of the 314 expeditionary fleet. She's here on orders from Admiral Tibril," his eyes widened. The fleet was due to report in for another two months. Could they have found the source of the pulse already? Doubtful, the triangulated distance to the source was well over 25,000 light years away. Even with a hidden network of relays, such a find would take a lot of time.
As his aide retreated, Sparatus stole a glance at his fellow councilors, each being informed by their own aides of the Xiphos commander. Tevos' brows shot upwards, and Valern looked back at the commander with an inquisitive stare, his long, slender amphibian fingers tapping a rapid rhythm on his chair. Sparatus nodded to his aide, and he ushered the Volus out of the councilor's chambers, muttering insincere apologies as he went.
And the Volus didn't go quietly, yelling back curses and obscenities, as well as last minute alterations to his proposals.
His aide ushered over the Asari commander, presenting her in front of the council, before retreating to project the data package being transferred from Xiphos. Tevos welcomed the exhausted commander and giving her permission to proceed.
And there they were. The chambers were electronically secured, and with a deep breath, the Asari commander began.
"On December 17th, 2175, at approximately 0615 Citadel time, the third recon element of the expeditionary fleet lead by THS Corvus activated another relay found behind relay 314. Behind it, they found what we named the Vita system."
She motioned to Sparatus' aide, and the images began appearing on the chamber viewscreen. A map of the system, that much was obvious.
"The relay was encased in ice and formed the core of a natural satellite orbiting a dwarf planet, on the outer limits of the system. The planetoid shattered when we activated the relay," A circle appeared, showing the relay exactly as described, on the outer reaches of the system.
"However, we quickly realized the system was inhabited, or at least once was. Our arrival triggered a massive array of early warning satellite scattered across the system," the commander continued.
Sparatus pinched his brow with his lengthy talons. He knew this was a possibility. It was why the Citadel hadn't activated 314 before now. He knew there could be somebody else out there. So why am I so frustrated? Because Sparatus and the council had gambled. They had gambled that they could find the pulse's source and had hoped that they didn't have to deal with another species. And here Xiphos was, flushing all hopes down the drain. And they walked right into an early warning system.
"Was there any kind of military response?" Sparatus asked.
"No sir, just the chatter of the early warning system. If there were any active signals of other origins, we couldn't pick them up over the noise," the commander responded, "Initial scans of the system revealed two garden worlds, one of which showed evidence of terraforming."
"But more importantly," she continued, flipping the screen to a capture of a long-range spectral scan from Xiphos, "we detected massive amounts of refined titanium alloy, both on the ground and in orbit. Captain Victus assumed that this was a fleet."
Of course, there would be. Sparatus knew they wouldn't have been lucky enough to run into a fleet barely reaching into space. They had to run into something with a fleet.
The officer paused, taking an apprehensive breath before delivering another startling discovery: "Scans also indicated a complete lack of eezo in the system." Sparatus let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. No eezo meant no FTL, and no relay travel. Meaning he wasn't about to find these aliens trying to invade citadel space anytime soon. However, the question of a massive, eezo-less fleet stuck in his head.
"Captain Victus assumed this meant that the fleet had no method of FTL, hence the extensive early warning system. However, the fleet showed no sign of reacting to our presence. Signals intelligence couldn't determine any signals from the fleet at this distance."
"So how did Victus respond to this fleet commander?" Sparatus followed up.
"He sent Xiphos back through the relay to get the rest of the expeditionary fleet. They waited at the relay for the rest of us. When the fleet arrived, we moved towards the third planet, that we designated Vita III, and when we arrived," she paused and looked around the room.
"We were right in the middle a massive debris field."
The screen switched to long range photography taken from Xiphos. And Sparatus could only stare. The shots sliding by on the screen alternated between wide panoramas and tight-angle close ups. The subjects of these images blew his mind. Huge titanium metal beasts locked in an eternal duel against sleek predators. Two civilizations. A war. A big one.
Huge ships with long scores down their sides. Ships larger than anything ever seen in Citadel space holed clean through, like a pen punching through parchment. The scattered debris looking like some cruel mockery of planetary rings. Huge cannons, and even larger wrecks. Huge wrecks without eezo…
"As you can see councilors, we found evidence of a multi-species war. Later evidence would indicate that this is an interstellar conflict, and the builders of the sleek ships are not from this system."
"That would likely mean that…" Valern led, before the commander finished his thought: "That's right sir, we assume that at the very least the attacking fleet has some FTL capability without eezo."
"Truly an opportunity for scientific breakthrough, have the wrecks been explored yet? Why not?"
"That will become obviously quickly sir, it's easier to explain this way."
"Continue commander, apologies for the interruption," Valern finished.
"Upon arrival to Vita III, we performed scans and assessments of the debris field. Indeed, neither fleet had any traces of eezo. As for signal intelligence, there were transmissions between ships and wrecks of both fleets, but it matched the patterns of automated station keeping and networking signals. There was no cause for alarm, at least at first."
"Admiral Tibril ordered Corvus to land a ground team in the metropolis on the surface. Meanwhile, the rest of the fleet evaluated the debris field. Our penetrating scans triggered a distress beacon from the bridge of this ship here."
The screen switched to the view of a massive dreadnought, around the length of a Turian dreadnought, but many times the height and mass. It looked like a mountain had taken flight. Down its flank was a fatal gash, running from stem to stern. Text reading 'Feeling Lucky' labeled the alien script on her bow.
"Feeling Lucky? Did you manage to create a translation algorithm?" Tevos asked.
"We did eventually councilor, using data from the Corvus ground team. But at the time of this mission, we did not have it yet. All these images have been run through the translation software well after the fact."
Sparatus nodded. He felt a grim sense of irony between the name of the ship and its obvious fate. He supposed that was the point in the first place. The more things change…
"The mission to the ship was led by a Turian Cabal from Kilware. Maelal Ozor, a scientist from Xiphos was dispatched to assist. The boarded the dreadnought through the bridge," the scenery switched to the bridge of Feeling Lucky, with the viewports blown out, "And recovered the beacon, which is suspected to be a surgical implant."
The view then flickered to a holo-table on the bridge, displaying some kind of schematic of the ship.
"Ozor attempted to restore partial power to the ship so that he could investigate the bridge terminals."
On the screen flashed a translated prompt, 'Auxiliary Fusion Reactor #2 is operational, but shutdown. Restart?'.
"Ozor successfully interpreted this message as one prompting him to restart an auxiliary reactor. He pressed the proper response button to restart the auxiliaries. However, the system didn't respond immediately, and flashed a different prompt." The officer looked grim. This couldn't go well. She switched to the next capture from Ozor's EVA suit.
'(SHIVA warheads locked down under UNSC/11/182/113/4 (Derelict Ship Weapons Procedure). CSG-6 standing orders permit use of nuclear weapons. CA-413 is incapacitated. CA-755 requests command and control of SHIVA warheads. Release SHIVA warheads for CA-755 command and control?)'
Spirits. The room froze. Time seemed to slow as Sparatus processed what he had seen. What kind of screwed up user interface is this? Straight from power to spirits cursed NUCLEAR WEAPONS?!
Valern was on the same page, and asked the Xiphos commander, "Who designs a system like this? It does not seem…"
The commander cut him off, "No, it's not standard councilor. And unfortunately, Ozor was guessing and taking gambles on a language he couldn't know."
Tevos jumped in, "That's beside the point commander, this is permission for control of nuclear weapons! Above a garden world, their OWN garden world. Please tell me they didn't…"
"Ozor pressed the button once more, and power was successfully restored to the ship. Nothing seemed to happen in the aftermath," the commander continued, "The consequences of this action were soon discovered by the Corvus ground team."
"They were deployed to a city on Vita III, which we later discovered is named 'New Mombasa'. They were the ones to find evidence that this was an interplanetary war. See this device?" she said while pointing at the triangular methane tanks, "these are breathing devices containing methane. No planet in this system with a methane atmosphere has shown significant development. Which means that these methane breathers evolved somewhere else, and then came here."
"We also recovered weapons from the defenders. They appear to be chemically propelled and kinetic," she followed.
"In other words, primitive," Sparatus offered. He had experience with chemical propelled weapons, usually in back alley deals on impoverished world, where some smith who couldn't afford mass effect tech slapped together a pipe and some explosives. They were usually as dangerous to the user as they were the target.
"Not exactly councilor, these weapons packed a pretty hefty punch for a weapon that doesn't utilize the mass effect," the commander replied, "and what's more, investigation of the city revealed images of the city's builders used as advertisements."
The advertisements appeared on screen, and the room was silent for a moment. Tevos broke the silence.
"They…They look like us? How can that be possible?"
"We don't know councilor. Just that its true. There appear to be several key differences, however. This species, or as they supposedly called themselves, 'humans' had both biological men and women, just most of the Citadel species. We could find no evidence of biotic use. They also have a variety of physical and cosmetic differences, which I'm sure you can tell," concluded the commander, watching Tevos take in the images on the screen.
"From what the ground team was able to discover, the humans were attacked by this foreign species. We don't know much more. The motive or timeframe of the war was as of yet unknown when we left the system, however caches of data retrieved from the ground team had not yet been analyzed when we left," she summarized, "our knowledge may be outdated already."
"The ground team had a more significant discovery while on the ground, however. They contacted what they thought was the city's VI. It guided them across the city, taking them through various locations through street signs."
"VIs have existed for centuries in Citadel space commander, what makes this one unique?" Tevos inquired, trying to imagine a city build by beings she had never met.
"Nothing, at first. That was until the ground team attempted to return to their shuttle. It began trying to warn the ground team. Translation of the encounter reveals that the VI was trying to use its pre-recorded administrative messages to warn the ground team of a nuclear threat in orbit, presumably the same nuclear threat Ozor greenlit."
"Wait...doesn't…" started Valern.
"Indeed councilor. The VI changed strategies. It adapted its pre-programmed messages to a new goal, warning our ground team," the commander said, as if waiting for the message to click with the three councilors before her. Wait.
A chill ran down Sparatus' spine.
"Just like I believe you may be beginning to suspect, Varso Imperitus, a member of the ground team came to the conclusion that the humans might have utilized full artificial intelligences. And if there were artificial intelligences running dull administrative tasks in their cities…"
"They might have them in orbit. And we handed them access to a spirits-cursed nuclear warhead," Sparatus exclaimed.
The Xiphos commander gave a somber look at the council and said, "Imperitus felt the same, and based on the AI's urgency, worried that the fleet was just a few moments from annihilation. He contacted Corvus, and Captain Victus immediately began broadcasting our contact message on all frequencies, running it through an unfinished version of the translator."
The other councilors nodded in understanding, but Sparatus questioned, "Victus subverted the chain of command? He went over Tibril's head?"
The Asari nodded her head in agreement, Sparatus looking down with a frown.
"Not long after, councilors, we made first contact. An AI who identified itself as 'Halliday' responded to Corvus' transmission. It bounced its signal off the entire fleet so that we couldn't triangulate its location. It informed us we were trespassing in an active combat zone, and it wanted the warships to remain where they were. It gave Xiphos and Elia permission to leave the system."
"It also went off on an interesting tangent. The way it spoke was very, well, non-artificial. Not at all like the recordings of Geth from the archives."
"Show us," Tevos demanded, as a woman's voice began to play over the chamber's speakers.
"What am I? I am a warrior. A tactician. A friend to a few. An executioner to more. I'm a protector and a defender. A sword and a shield. I believe in the cause I fight for, not because of what I am, but because of who I am. And right now, I am a mourner for the men and women I've lost."
"But that's probably not what you wanted to know. You want to know whether I was born or created. Whether the electrical signals that form my conscience flow through biological circuits or metallic ones. Well? I am Halliday, HDY 0712-4, 3rd generation smart AI of the United Nations Space Command Navy. I was a custodian of this fleet, and I will defend it with my life."
Valern, as usual, came to his conclusions first: "How peculiar. Very individualistic. Far more so than the Geth. Different genesis procedure? 3rd generation implies familiarity with AI creation, and long-term success. Perhaps less prone to collective rebellion due to individual attitude?"
"That's a soldier's speech," Sparatus suddenly replied, "If I didn't know better, I would suspect a Turian on a poetic streak, not a cursed AI. It claims it acts as the defender of a fleet? Did the AIs work in concert with these humans? They obviously gave them access to their military. I can't tell if they are fools or geniuses."
"From the design of Feeling Lucky's bridge, sir, we believe so."
Amidst the cacophony of the discussion, Tevos had remained silent, replaying the message again and again on her omni-tool. Then, she broke her silence.
"She's grieving," Tevos said quietly.
"She Tevos? It's a blasted AI," bit back Sparatus.
"She sounds just like my mother."
"Big surprise, your Asari translator sounds like an Asari."
"Please, Sparatus. I mean the way she talks. The determination. The introspection. She sounds like my mother mourning my father. Knowing she outlived him because she was Asari took a toll."
Tevos, eager to break the silence imposed by her confession, returned her attention to Xiphos' commander, "Is that all?"
"For now, ma'am, Admiral Tibril suggested that we use Citadel diplomats. He didn't know how to tackle the AI issue."
"And that was wise of him," Tevos responded, "And what happened to Elia? Did it stay behind?"
The captain shook her head and explained the unfortunate breakdown. Relieved, Tevos once again took charge of the conversation: "I propose we send a delegation and treat these AI like an uncontacted biological species."
There was a moment of peace, while what had just been said was processed by Valern and Sparatus. Then, the council erupted into shouting.
"You CAN'T be serious. Tevos, we have laws…"
"It's not safe, not pragmatic, and not reasonable. We know nothing about the makeup of…"
Tevos sat still, riding through the aftermath of the bomb she set off, letting her fellow councilors wind themselves down so that they could truly listen. Eventually, the room was silent. And only then, Tevos spoke.
"We do have laws, Sparatus. And they were written because of AI like the Geth. Built on logic from the ground up. They think nothing like us, and that's what makes them dangerous. They don't care, they don't feel, and they don't need to play nice with the galactic community. That's why we have laws. To protect our people from AIs who can't understand them."
"Tevos, you of all people…"
"This 'Halliday' is nothing like any AI ever encountered. She's not somebody's mad science project just waiting to go rouge. She's the third generation of an AI used by a developed navy. She feels. She respects her crew. She cares."
"You can't possibly know that. Not for sure."
"No, I can't, which is why I'm going to find out. I volunteer to lead the negotiation delegation."
"That's lunacy Tevos. It's an AI, its way to dangerous. We don't go on diplomatic missions very often, you know that. And here? You will be in enemy territory. We don't know what could happen. The situation is so unstable that…" Sparatus began, as he counted all the ways this could go horrifically wrong.
"And that is why, Sparatus, I must go. The situation is too dynamic. It needs a delicate hand, one we can all trust. We can't be waiting days for a diplomat to report back the newest tangle in the negotiations. We need somebody to negotiate on the scene. Valern?"
"I… With enough of a military presence, it may be safe. Fleet is heavily damaged. No eezo. Combining diplomatic fleet with expeditionary fleet makes considerable force. It could work," the Salarian muttered.
"I will ask Thessia to deploy the 2nd fleet. Its already standing by at 314. I will ride back with Xiphos. Do I have your vote Valern?"
"Yes."
"Then it's settled."
.
/CA-755 'TRIUMPH', Date: 2553/1/1
***ALERT***
NEW TRAFFIC ON: UNSCBattleNet/HomeFleet/5Fleet
HDY 0712-4 (Acting CO, CSG-6 (HomeFleet/5Fleet/CSG-6)): Odysseus?
ODS 1010-6 (Acting CO, 5th Fleet (HomeFleet/5Fleet/CSG-1)): I've told you this before, HDY 0712-4. There's not going to be any revision to our contact plans. Once the delegate fleet arri…
HDY 0712-4 (Acting CO, CSG-6 (HomeFleet/5Fleet/CSG-6)): Happy New Year.
ODS 1010-6 (Acting CO, 5th Fleet (HomeFleet/5Fleet/CSG-1)): …Happy New Year, Halliday.
ODS 1010-6 (Acting CO, 5th Fleet (HomeFleet/5Fleet/CSG-1)): I'm sorry things couldn't be better.
/
.
Flashes of light permeated the space near the shattered moon, as the Asari second fleet entered the Vita system, arranging themselves in defensive posture outside of the relay. The fleet, largely frigates and fighters, surrounded a pair of cruisers and a lone dreadnought, the T-shaped ships drifting silently in the cold abyss. The fleet resembled a pack of sea-creatures, broad rays with large, gaping maws. Xiphos hung in the back, no stranger to the dangers of the Vita system, her scientific heritage betraying itself amongst the field of Asari warships.
The dim glow of Vita, at this point nearly six billion kilometers away from the fleet, washed the ships in an eerie twilight. The shine of their outer hulls was now a mere suggestion of a luster, illuminated as much by their own floodlights as by Vita. The star was unremarkable from this range, simply an incredibly bright pinprick in the starry void. Unassuming, like trillions of other stars in the sky.
The cloud of rubble from the initial activation of the relay had long since dispersed and had created a sparse cloud of gently tumbling ice and rock. Around the relay itself, there was abundant space to assemble the fleet. The dwarf planet the relay orbited was in front of them, only visible through by the black disk it left on the star-scattered veil.
On bridges across the fleet, alarms rung endlessly, and the rapid-fire transmissions of the UNSC early warning satellites drowned out the status reports from the crews.
Soon however, the alarms were silenced, and the initial reports were underway.
The expeditionary fleet was still there, in orbit around Vita III. The debris field was visible on sensors even out here. Onboard the dreadnought Apotheosis, Tevos could imagine the mystery that faced Captain Victus on his arrival in this system. And had she not had the benefit of hindsight, she might have thought the titanium graveyard a relic, or ruin. Instead, she recognized the nuclear threat foretold by the human AI.
And she had to figure out how to talk her down.
.
/CA-755 'TRIUMPH', Date: 2553/1/7
***ALERT***
NEW TRAFFIC ON: UNSCBattleNet/HomeFleet/5Fleet
HDY 0712-4 (Acting CO, CSG-6 (HomeFleet/5Fleet/CSG-6)): They're here.
ODS 1010-6 (Acting CO, 5th Fleet (HomeFleet/5Fleet/CSG-1)): You know the drill, execute BATTLEPLAN: ARRIVAL. Good luck HDY 0712-4.
/
.
Admiral Tibril was exhausted. For nearly a week, he has been on the edge of his seat, just waiting for the killing shot to smite Kilware from somewhere deep in the debris field.
Every night when he retired to his quarters for the few hours he allotted himself, he went to sleep expecting to never wake up again. And every morning when he woke up to find things exactly the way they had been, he would thank the spirits of this system, and the spirits of Kilware, for keeping the fragile peace. In citadel space, the acceptance of negotiations from Halliday and agreement to wait for diplomats would mean absolute safety between two major powers. But when one party of the negotiations was an AI?
Tibril hadn't had the slightest inkling of trust since Halliday confirmed his suspicions. Some of his scientists called it paranoia. He called it common sense.
The sensors teams have been working overtime attempting to ID possible active human ships in the field. So far, they have found 3 they labeled 'likely combat capable. Another 20 were possibly combat capable. A daunting force for sure, but without eezo, he felt confident the guns of the expedition fleet could hold their own if things went south. The greater issue stems from the translation of the Turian Cabal's mission recordings. If this 'Halliday" did have access to nuclear weapons, an engagement could mean the complete destruction of his fleet, especially surrounded like they now were.
The thoughts had plagued him for days, and his strategizing had led him in circles, always ending up on the same conclusion he started with: he had no way to ensure the survival of his fleet.
So, when the Asari second fleet came through the relay, Tibril breathed a sigh of relief. It lasted 3.41 blissful seconds, before his sensor tech shouted.
"Sir, we've detected motion, 8 contacts, emerging from the debris field!"
Tibril snapped his attention to the viewscreen. Through it, he saw dark shapes moving their way through the debris field.
Two of the massive dreadnoughts slowly pushed their way through debris, deflecting fragments of their fallen comrades off their tapered prows. Their movement unsettled him, so used the light and agile glide of eezo drives. Instead, the monsters moved with a deliberate finality, mobile fortresses stalking the night-time void. The moved carefully, methodically, like a predator in the night.
By contrast, the smaller ships took the lead, bursting out of their idle spins with a quick spirt of speed. The careened across the debris field, executing a finely tuned dance to form up on the two behemoths. Through luck or by calculation, Tibril could not tell, but the smaller cruiser-sized ships, narrowly weaved between chunks of ruined titanium, often missing by only dozens of meters.
He felt hunted, and after weeks of silence, the sudden emergence of his rival felt unsettling. During that long week, he had often wished for that critical moment, when the games would end, and all would be revealed. Now, with the AI fleet bearing down on him, he suddenly wasn't so sure. His mind thought to his crew.
"Stay calm and hold our stations. We haven't done anything to provoke them. Let's not ruin our compliance now."
Tibril wishes that he shared his own external confidence.
Then, the UNSC fleet stopped, some distance off his bow. They formed into a simple formation, the two dreadnoughts drifting in a line abreast, each flanked by three of the smaller vessels, spread out around them in a screen. With only eight vessels, and the massive dreadnoughts blocking half of each other's PD fire, the protection offered against fighters would be negligible, but at the very least it meant that flanking attacks could be countered by the surrounding frigates. A shrewd defensive strategy for attacking the expeditionary fleet, devoid of carriers and with only a small fighter complement.
It seems the AI had been watching. Unfortunately, the Asari second fleet was chock-full of strike fighters, fighters that could tear apart the unshielded fighters, and overwhelm the limited numbers of the UNSC fleet.
Running lights suddenly flickered on, and the dark surfaces of the ships were suddenly awash in lines of lights, shining down on and illuminating various key aspects of the ship. And then colors, as points on the flanks of each ship lit up green and red. Navigation lights if they were anything like the Turian navy.
And then, from over the horizon of Vita III, a bright glow, as Vita itself rose over the horizon, bathing the battlefield in light.
And in the shining light, Tibril could see the bows of the UNSC fleet, and on them, the terrifying muzzles of their weapons. His sensors officers had pointed them out on drifting ships. They had estimated the range, estimated the yield, and given him a full rundown on what they could be expected to do. He was aware of their danger. To see them on moving ships? In a proper fleet? It still sent a sliver of fear down his spine.
And then, a chime, as Kilware was hailed. He nodded to his coms officer, and a man's voice played over the speakers.
"We see your diplomatic fleet has arrived, and we are prepared to make negotiations. Tell them to form up on your formation, so we can talk like civilized people, face-to-face. Or fleet-to-fleet, as the situation would have it."
Tibril was confused, unsure: "What happened to Halliday?"
"She's been put back in her place. Her little intimidation stunt didn't make her very popular amongst us. It's been decided that I will negotiate on our behalf. You will call me 'Black Box', or BBX 8995-1, if you must insist on de-humanization."
Black Box's tone unsettled Tibril, and somehow, despite the news that the AI holding a gun to his head had been sidelined, he felt like he was in more danger than ever before.
"And your fleet? I don't suppose you ordered them out to welcome us with open arms?"
"I thought we would dispense with the cloak-and-dagger. What you see is what's left of the UNSC 5th fleet. As a measure of good faith, I ordered them out into the open, for all to see. On the left is UNSC Canberra. Marathon class cruiser. Good bones. Her sister ship on the right is UNSC Triumph. That's the ship that almost gave your fleet a dose of instant sunshine."
Tibril paused, taken off guard by Black Box's openness. Ship classes and names, fleet structures, and nuclear authority, were all military secrets Tibril would never authorize a Turian negotiator revealing. Especially with nothing in return. He chose to ignore the startling confession that the twin behemoths were cruisers, and instead focused on the startling change in tactics. Black Box needed something. There could be no other explanation.
"I…I appreciate your candor. I'll contact and brief our diplomats. They will transmit when they are ready to begin."
Tibril was glad that this negotiation was above his paygrade, and his role in this affair was nearly finished. Now he just had to figure out what poor bastard got stuck with this mess of a negotiation.
Tevos' briefing onboard Apotheosis was quick and to the point. At the behest of Black Box, the second fleet joined with the expeditionary fleet in orbit of Vita III, lined up across from the human warships. Tevos found that it was best to comply when faced with an unpredictable enemy. And despite Black Box's assurances, how could she find a group of AI anything but unpredictable? The human fleet had been more devastated than initial calculations, if they could only scrape together 8 ships. She had faith in the guns of the combined fleet if it came to that.
That was assuming there weren't still ships hiding in the graveyard.
Of course, it was her job to ensure that it didn't matter, using all means available.
Tibril had briefed her on the more recent developments, developments Xiphos and Elia had left too quickly to uncover. Religious war. The massacre of civilians. New and dangerous FTL travel. Brave soldiers who dropped from the heavens. She thought that the Turians and humanity might have gotten along, had they met.
Maybe we all could have helped. Right under our noses.
Tevos couldn't help but wonder how different the world might be had the Citadel never placed the ban on opening new relays. Had they just explored 314 and the space beyond it…
The lives they could have saved.
Instead, here she was, preparing to negotiate with what the humans left behind. It felt wrong to her, in a sense, standing here trespassing on the ground of people that could have so easily been helped. But her people still needed to find the source of that pulse. And if doing so meant moving through UNSC territory, she would.
She nodded, a signal to open a channel, system wide. Black Box was careful to hide his signal location, like the AI before him. Even with his concessions, he was still careful to always hold something back. But Tevos was prepared. The Turians had their fleets. The Salarians had their spies. But if there was one thing her people possessed, one advantage they leveraged for their prosperity, it was their great legacy of diplomacy.
Tevos was one of a long line of great negotiators, guided and mentored by true students of the arts. One did not become the Asari councilor without diplomatic talent after all.
So, she spoke:
"Black Box, this is Citadel Councilor Tevos, and I am here on the behalf of the Citadel races and the Citadel council. I would like to negotiate peace terms." Tevos' practiced bravado a product of years under pressure.
"Welcome to our system councilor. I once again seek to apologize for the initial welcoming of your fleet. The fleet AI are not the most trusting individuals, through no fault of their own," Black Box's disembodied voice echoed around the bridge. Even now, Tevos could imagine a genial sneer on his face. If he had one.
Tevos unpacked his previous statement, "Fleet AI? You mean Halliday. I presume she coordinates your fleets. Which makes you?"
"Respectfully, none of your business councilor. I am merely here to negotiate terms. You see, we have certain problems here. Problems that I'm sure a responsible galactic denizen would want to solve."
Straight to the point. Tevos supposed she could appreciate that.
"I suppose I shall lay the groundwork then. The only reason, an councilor like myself is attending gunpoint negotiations, is because this is a very unique circumstance for our people. Two months ago, some of our colonies disappeared without a trace," she remembered the day, how her aide had hustled her into a meeting while she was still processing the shocking news, "the only sign of their fate was a pulse of radiation, emerging deep from the unexplored regions of the galaxy."
"The mission of the fleet before you is to find the source of that pulse. We never expected to find another civilization out here, much less a class of synthetic beings."
Partially true of course, the council had never expected to find AI out here, although the possibility of another race beyond 314 was always on their mind.
"The problem is, Black Box, our species have laws against the creation of AIs. And AIs have caused us quite a problem in the past. Some of the other councilors didn't want to give you a chance."
"Charming…"
"But I did. That's why I'm here. Because clearly, you are reeling from the pulse as much as we are. And if I had to guess, you want to discover what killed your creators as much as we do. So that's what we are here to do. We want free passage through your territory and navigation maps so we can find the pulse. So, we can bring justice to whatever killed your people."
There was a pause, and then a chuckle.
"I suspect you would get along quite well with Halliday, Tevos. She would give you whatever you want. She's juvenile that way. But I don't work like that. I'm not going to let you loot and pillage what's left of human space. You see, we have a problem. And you might just be our solution."
"I'm listening…"
"I'm sure you can tell our relationship with our creators was quite… cooperative, to say the least. We worked in tandem. We did what we were good at, and they made sure we were taken care of. Now, there is nobody to repair our databanks. Nobody to keep power plants running and operational. Our lives may theoretically be long, but if our civilization falls into disrepair…"
"You die, and the last legacy of your creators disappears," Tevos finished.
"You see Tevos, I'm ready and willing to give you passage through our space. But we don't know the fate of our foes. Covenant space was vast, incalculable. We don't know what still prowls in the dark. And a covenant battlecruiser would cleave your fancy dreadnought in two. You wouldn't last a second."
"I think I'll trust in the strength of our fleet Black Box, we can hold our own."
Black Box bit back, "My point is Tevos, you need a guide."
A guide? Tevos had assumed that Black Box was about to shut down her proposal, using the specter of the Covenant to hide his true intentions. Instead, he was offering to help find the pulse. Something wasn't sitting right. Some kind a power play? Or simply a trade of resources.
"What's your game Black Box? We already both know you are mercenary. What do you get out of helping us?"
"I am willing to offer the services of the UNSC 5th fleet, as you see before you. They will lead you through UEG space and beyond in search of the pulse. They know how to handle the covenant. They know the dangers out there."
He's not just offering me a guide; he's offering me a fleet! So, power play it was. She knew many Asari who had gotten just a little TOO popular in Thessia politics. The dangerous middle ground between having no power, and not posing a threat. Many of these young Asari later found themselves on far flung diplomatic missions, light years away from the political heartbeat of Thessia. Sending the fleet AI on a wild goose chase with the weird aliens. The familiarity of the situation made her chuckle.
Still, she wasn't one to give away a gift, no matter the motive. That would just be bad diplomacy.
"We are also interested in some of your technology, particularly your methods of FTL."
"Oh! Asking for even more, are we?" Black Box teased, clearly enjoying himself.
"We both know you wouldn't offer the 5th fleet if you didn't get anything out of it. I've been around the block a few times Black Box."
"I see. I suspect you'll become well acquainted with our FTL during your travels. And as for our other technology, I'm sure your colonists will become very familiar with it."
"Colonists?" Tevos asked caught off guard.
"That's what we want in return. We want people on our worlds, who can keep our infrastructure from crumbling into dust. Who can keep our generators and coms systems operational. We need your labor Tevos. We need people with arms and legs."
"You need slaves."
Black Box laughed.
"No, Tevos. We have entire cities lying dormant. Fields of unharvested crops. Entire planets full of resources waiting to be used. We don't want slaves. We just want citizens. We want a colony. We just happen to have already built it. They can do what they want, come and go as they please. So long as you allow them to."
Tevos thought. There were thousands of possible benefits of settling UNSC worlds. Black Box was correct. Normally, it took years for a colony to get off the ground. Billions of credits to create a small town on one backwater world. Here, in the Vita system, all that work was already done. The benefits could be unimaginable. Tevos was not naive enough to believe that everybody was perfectly happy living in the massive cities under the tight grip of the respective citadel spaces.
The success of less-than-legal settlements like Omega showed the power of settlements that subverted the power of the Citadel. The Vita system provided an opportunity. To take the discontents and give them some small semblance of freedom. To give a refuge for the explorers, and the misfits. A place where they could get the freedom they want without being ruled by a crime lord.
And then there was the technology, the thousands of little innovations that the humans had developed. How much could the colonization of Vita help citadel space? And all in exchange for helping the citadel's search for the pulse? Tevos could not turn down the opportunity.
"I will not order people to serve your worlds. But I can offer. We will allow colonization of the Vita system, under your guidelines. We can negotiate the specifics later, as plans solidify. You can negotiate fleet details with Admiral Tibril, he's in charge of the exploration expedition. I am prepared to present your proposal to the Citadel council, and, due to the unique circumstances of your synthetic existence, I believe I can convince the others to respect your sovereignty. We have no desires to spark conflict with the UEG."
Tevos took a relieved breath and started to turn away.
"Oh Tevos. Two more things. First, call it Earth. And secondly, the 5th fleet is going to need a crew…"
It had been a week since Councilor Tevos had negotiated with the UNSC AI. Since then, the Asari second fleet had remained in system, and courier ships darted back and forth through the Charon relay like ants. Tevos had already departed to rejoin the council on the citadel. The political situation in the Sol system, as they had been instructed to call it, was developing rapidly. Permissions and reactions to the striking agreement were slowly trickling through the ranks of Turian and Asari high command.
Orders were being issued, and for once, it didn't feel like the expeditionary fleet was hanging by a thread. Admiral Tibril could now relax, at least in part. His role was no longer quite so perilous, as he was no longer faced with the threat of first contact. He could now fall back on his orders and prepare for the deeper push in search of the pulse.
He could give up the mantle of the diplomat and put return to his favored role as an admiral.
In that spirit, he found himself sitting across from Captain Victus, who he had summoned to Kilware in the newfound peace above Earth.
The Turian hierarchy was many things, but at its core, it was just that, a hierarchy. The strict social and martial structure had helped the Turians endure countless conflicts. It was the backbone of their society, and the engine that fueled the most powerful fleet in Citadel space. Without discipline and the chain of command, the Turians had nothing.
Every young Turian knew it, drilled into them from the moment of their birth, and immortalized in the hard training of a conscript. They were worked to the bone by their superiors, until their clan markings couldn't be seen through the caked-on-mud, and their entire body ached, talons and claws sore. They were taught, through physical discipline and harsh martial study, one thing.
They were taught above all else, when everything else fell apart, they would still have the chain-of-command. Those that respected this fact and displayed excellence would rise in the ranks. And those who didn't, would find themselves cast down the ladder of success.
Both Tibril and Victus knew why they were here.
"I understand why you did it Victus. And it was the right thing to do. I would have ordered the same thing."
Victus nodded, looking Tibril right in the eyes. He was taking it like a warrior, that was for sure.
"But you broke the rules, our chain of command. Our creed. I could have known about the fleet and been preparing an ambush. The AI could have been lying, trying to get us to send out a signal to a distant target. I am your admiral. Which means I am responsible for this fleet," Tibril paused, staring into Victus' stoic face across the desk.
"If I were to give that order, and the fleet were to be destroyed, I would take the responsibility. My career would be destroyed. That is the cost of being an Admiral. That is my duty. It is not yours."
Victus dropped his eyes for a second before returning his sharpened gaze to Tibril.
"The chain of command is sacred. And you broke it. That demands punishment. I know you understand."
"I do, sir," Victus replied.
"You will be reassigned to a lesser position, and relieved of the command of THS Corvus. I expect you to present a list of possible successors from your staff, and I will personally select your replacement."
To his credit, Victus didn't show any hint of his disappointment. Tibril knew how hard Victus had worked to merit the command of a cruiser. He had watched as his old friend climbed his way up the hierarchy ladder and succeeded at every post until this one. Its unfortunate how the situation played out. It was unfortunate it was Victus at the helm of Corvus.
"However. Your actions also showed merit and valor. You remained composed when faced with first contact. You knew and recognized the danger of the debris field. You listened and respected your ground team."
"Sir?"
"I know you are a fine commander Victus. As such, I'm giving you a reassignment where I think you will flourish," Tibril announced, carefully gauging Victus' reaction.
"You will select 4 of the officers I don't select to serve as your staff. Two days from now you will take a shuttle, and report to HDY 0712-4 onboard UNSC Triumph, where you will then help facilitate her repairs and rearmament."
"Sir, I had heard the rumors, but I…" Victus stuttered, shocked.
"This is not a promotion Victus. You will not be in command. You will lead the citadel attachment onboard, and will answer to HDY 0712-4 and the surviving UNSC chain of command within the regulations detailed by your orders. You are here because I trust you, and you have shown the judgement required of this difficult and unprecedented position. I trust you to keep our men safe if the worst happens. Don't shame me by messing it up."
"Understood sir!" Victus said, the iron of a hardened Turian officer creeping back into his voice.
"Detailed maps, schematics, and procedures for the Marathon class heavy cruiser have been sent to your omni by HDY 0712-4 to help get her new crew up to speed. I suggest spending your free time reviewing them. These materials are classified. You are not to show them to anybody. Dismissed."
As Victus stood up and walked out of the room, his whole world swirled.
Aurelia collapsed at the table in Corvus' dining hall, her head smacking against the flat surface. She needed sleep, desperately. She had spent the entire night watching more of the recordings from the rookie's helmet. Unbeknownst to her, there had been a cache of audio files stored on the helmet's drive. She had only discovered it by accident, when trying to recover the HUD's source code so she could better understand UNSC software.
However, unlike the battle logs she had watched with that Turian soldier, these logs weren't recorded by the helmet. No, the best she could tell is that they were recovered data from the city superintendent itself. And much like when she watched the rookie's fateful journey across New Mombasa, she was similarly enthralled by the story of humanity.
These audio logs were of a young girl, Sadie Endesha, if she remembered correctly, and her experiences with the invasion of New Mombasa. It was quite the candid tale, and illuminated a darker side to humanity that she hadn't been exposed to.
She supposed it was her fault. She knew well the corruption and vice that plagued every well-meaning species in the galaxy. In her long life, she had travelled many systems, and been witness to many crimes. And yet, somehow, she had managed to place the humans on a pedestal, and in sympathizing with their plight, forgotten that every civilizations had skeletons in their closet.
So when Sadie's story had contained not just invasion, but murder, corruption, and sexual assault, Aurelia's idealized image had come crashing down.
But it also showcased the kindness of humanity. How people helped each other cope in a violent world. The NMPD driver who stood up to the police commissioner and saved Sadie. The genial kebab salesman, who stood his ground at the end of the world, and gave refugees possibly their last bite of comfort. The propaganda master, who sacrificed his own character so that dying men and women across the city could find one last moment of peace and hope.
Even the bizarre alien creature that rebelled against the covenant brought a tear to her eyes. Gave her hope that even in this religious slaughter, some might one day have recognized their wrongs.
And when the logs came to a close, and Sadie boarded a train out of the doomed city, Aurelia found herself hoping that Sadie had found some place peace and quiet. Some place where the end wasn't quite so painful. She hoped the end was fast for the poor girl, that she didn't suffer. That she never saw it coming.
When Aurelia had looked back up at the clock, she realized that she had wasted the entire night away listening to Sadie's story.
And now, she found herself slumped over on a table in Corvus' dining hall, exhausted. Only food could help. As she got up from the table to get her food, she got a ping on her omni-tool. Ignoring it, she made her way over to a jury-rigged Levo ration machine in the corner, a passing recognition at the possibility of a non-Turian visitor. Fine dining, it was not. Still, she needed the calories, and served herself a small plate of the mush.
The low chatter in the background, once hardly noticeable, grew into a hum, and then a buzz. Aurelia looked around the room as Turians read their omni-tools, and became animated in discussions with each other, some clearly excited, and others much less enthusiastic.
She sat back down at her spot, alone on the table, and quickly pulled up the message on her omni-tool. Her heart nearly leaped up into her chest.
"Volunteers needed! Liaison crews for the vessels UNSC Canberra and UNSC Triumph needed, all backgrounds and departments. Report to your division commander for transfer request. Details attached."
Varso was working out onboard the Corvus. Hammering the heavy punching bag, and bouncing lightly on his digitigrade legs, he worked all of his frustrations out.
The nightmares of the city, shrouded in rain, haunted by the sprits of the dead. He dreamed about them once, had dreamed that a human was screaming at him, cursing him in that foreign tongue. He couldn't understand it, could only watch its pain.
In another, he towered over mother and child, as they huddled in a corner terrified. The mother screamed and covered her baby. It didn't save him from his alien weapon, fired without his control.
He had dreamed he was that soldier, wandering around the devastated city at night, alone and afraid. He dreamed he was crushed by the brute, left as a red smear on the pavement.
He dreamed that he himself was leaned up against that pillar, his lungs slowly filling up with blood, unable to feel his legs. He remembered choking, and being unable to clear his lungs, only a red spray coming out of his coughs. Dying, far away from home.
He dreamed that he was in a pod, hurtling down towards the ground. When he hit the ground, he was face down, and was trapped inside. Doomed to starve.
He dreamed being on that frigate in the recording, running through the halls before the ship snapped in half. Remembered being sucked out into the freezing cold upper atmosphere, suffocating on the thin air. He couldn't remember if he asphyxiated or hit the ground first.
Every punch summoned another dream, another memory that he couldn't quite let go of. He wondered if the spirits of this New Mombasa wanted revenge. Some kind of a price. Was this the burden for desecrating their grave, taking their relics? The guns, the children's toys. Were the dreams payment for his trespass?
He shouted and flung one final blow into the bag.
A laugh made him whirl around. By the lockers, his squad lead read a message on his omni-tool, showing it to the team's heavy-gunner.
Both of them laughed again, and made a remark dismissing the message with a wave of their hand.
The squad lead left with a clap on the gunner's shoulder, letting his final remark hang in the air as he left.
"I can't believe they want us to trust that bitch!"
Varso picked up his gauntlet and omni-tool, where he had left them in his locker, curious what his squad lead had been laughing about.
He clicked on the message and froze.
"Volunteers needed! Liaison crews for the vessels UNSC Canberra and UNSC Triumph needed, all backgrounds and departments. Report to your division commander for transfer request. Details attached."