Ny: Fair point; perhaps I'll get around to fixing that tidbit later on.
Deep space, Lyrids cluster, 27.14.5717 0917HRS Galactic Standard Time
Proteus-class frigate MFS Khufu
The formerly turian frigate decommissioned and sold off less than a decade ago by the Hierachy to serve either as a pirate vessel or whatever other fate that it probably got put to before somehow making it's way towards the hands of a number of quarians on their Pilgrimages now bore a fresh Migrant Fleet logo on it's broadsides as it sailed onwards through the void of space with three other frigates in a diamond formation, Khufu leading the formation that permitted them to sweep the void with their sensors without gaps in their field of view at all. The squandron itself was a four-vessel formation that was part of the vanguard for the Patrol Fleet, providing scouting and other vanguard duties for the Migrant while the much larger (in terms of average ship size) Heavy Fleet formed a defensive perimeter around the live-ships and transports that formed the Civilian Fleet, ships that were fully laden with civilians who were in turn decendants of the survivors of the Geth Uprising some three hundred years ago. The nature of the Patrol Fleet meant that it was composed almost entirely out of frigates or sometimes even outright cutters modified with extra torpedo racks attached haphazardly onto their sides, in stark contrast to the Heavy Fleet's ranks bristling with cruisers and heavy cruisers with handfulls of escorts around them (leaving aside the fact that the Patrol Fleet based it's headquarters on a heavy cruiser for a flagship nonetheless), but to make up for that, it could maneuver far better as a whole, was more flexible for the day-to-day activities of a fleet, and had just as equivalent coordination capabilities to the Heavy, as due to a lack of suitable ships to serve as flagships many frigates had been modified with flag bridges to serve in that purpose.
That didn't mean that the Patrol Fleet was a pushover, however, nonetheless. During the three hundred years of exile for the quarians the Patrol Fleet had been acting as early warning and meatshields for the Heavy Fleet as a whole, and despite the seemingly reduced importance of their role compared to that of the Heavy Fleet, their role in combat could nonetheless never be underestimated. Out of the many conflicts the Migrant Fleet found themselves in so far three were decisively won by the hand of the Heavy Fleet in open battle, but they would've never formed their battle-lines in time to properly face the threat had it not been for the valiant efforts of the Patrol Fleet in buying enough time to warn the Heavy Fleet and permit them to defend the civilians from harm; time bought, nevertheless, with the blood of the sailors manning the cutters and frigates as well as wrecks scattered in the void now as nothing more than mere graves for their crew.
"Detecting a return on sensors, Captain," Sensors called out as his console dinged with a contact. "Bearing 2-5 lateral axis to 1-3 on vertical. Appears to be a ship, a drifting one, or else we would've detected it a long time ago."
Another officer came over to him in a flash and ran his own eyes onto the console. "Correction, Captain, the vessel is operating off minimal power. Distribution appears to be delibrate as opposed to accidental; signatures are being constant throughout the ship as opposed to scattered in pockets as typical for lingering remmants of a catastrophic systems failure."
"Understood. Bring the ship to Defense Condition One and prepare for battle. Notify the squandron about this recent development and hail the vessel," ordered Vol'Shisa vas Yidin, the skipper of the Khufu. "Order them to leave the area immediately, and if they do not comply, we will open fire."
Quarian standard protocol for encounters like this could be boiled down to 'hail them and shoot them if they don't answer or comply', more or less. It was a simple, concise, and effective protocol that had worked wonders for the Fleet for the past three centuries. It had served the Migrant Fleet well, and it would continue to do so.
"Aye aye, sir," replied the Comms officer. "Contacting the ship now."
"No change in unknown vessel, Captain," Sensors reported after a pause.
"No response has been recieved. It appears that the ship lacks a communications suite somehow," Comms also reported.
"We have orders to fire if the ship does not comply," Vol'Shisa reminded his bridge crew, "so let's give them a chance."
"Yes, sir."
A short pause followed, and then...
"Sensors, confirm the unknown's size and shape for me. I have an inkling on who or what the vessel is, but I want confirmation first before I act."
"Aye, sir," the officer responded, his hands dancing across the console's surface. "Dimensions confirmed, length 4-5-8-2, height 2-3-5-1. Shape is rather irregular, to say the least, but it appears to invoke a nostalgic feel more than most. You can show an image of this vessel to anyone well-versed in ancient marine travel and they will say that this ship was based off a water-borne passenger vessel."
"I know, and that's why I'm having my suspicions confirmed." The skipper of the Khufu nodded. "Order the other ships to break off their diamond formation and spread out. Order them to move into a defensive perimeter around the contact, and tell the captain of the Yel'Gahis to assume the point-position. Inform the Yel'Gahis that we are going in for boarding and the crew of the ship might be hostile."
"Sir?" the officer asked, confused.
"That vessel is huge, and if the sensor readings are to be believed, then if we can make it operational; we will have ourselves one of the biggest prizes ever since the Battle of Raheel-Leyya. Think of all the overcrowding that we are already facing at home in the Migrant Fleet; even the combat-oriented ships in the Patrol Fleet ourselves have civilians crammed on board! Just think about how many more living space is there for us on this vessel, or the literal hundreds of thousands of child permits we could grant with the additional space provided by this vessel alone! It would solve the issues we're facing right now!"
"Sir," the officer began, "this sounds too good to be true."
"Perhaps. But this could be our big break, and the chance for us to find a permanent place to live in."
The officer still seemed unconvinced.
"Think about it, the ship's huge. Even if it turns out to be a derelict, we could cannibalize parts from it and salvage anything valuable from it, and even if not, this ship could provide a huge amount of space for the Fleet as a whole. Yes, it may be a trap, yes, it may not be one; but nonetheless; on the off chance that it isin't a trap and we ignore it still, then what have we accomplished save perhaps miss the chance of seeing hundreds of thousands more see the chance to start a family? Life is not meant to be played safe, if you want to play that game, go create an insurance company. In the harshness of the galaxy risks must be taken in order to ensure our survival, and this is one of them. Now do as I say."
"...aye, sir."
Vol'Shisa sighed. He was getting old.
"Contact the Migrant Fleet Command. Inform them of the situation. We're taking this ship for the Fleet, one way or the other."
Even to the untrained observer it was obvious that the dormant, drifting vessel was meant to invoke a nostalgic feeling about vessels that had sailed the open seas on the homeworlds of many species. A sharp, pointed bow with a slight tilted edge leaning forwards, a tall, sleek, almost elegant superstructure rising out of the vessel's hull and topped with a high tower and a small, rounded bridge.
And then the rear of the vessel. A towering sternpost and a raised, curved, almost proud-looking fantail with two large, bulky, thick cylindrical structures rising out from the vessel's aft and flanking the fantail with (dormant) engine nozzles sticking out of them to form the ship's propulsion system, while on the ventral side was an additional tower as if to balance the weight of the superstructure on top without compromising looks, the "top" of which also contained a small, raised bridge from where a bridge officer could command the vessel.
In short, it was a beautiful sight to behold, and an equally magnificent sight to the quarian patrol group that had encountered the vessel, and a ship like that was not something they were going to let slip by them, and that was precisely why the Patrol Fleet had established a defensive perimeter around the vessel and sent in a boarding party, a small team of sixty quarians, forty out of which were armed and armored with the rest being technicians and engineers to get the vessel running, and as they stepped onto the vessel's empty, darkened corridors, the lead quarian, Lieutenant Masin'Sasaar nar Fugro, turned to his comrades and ordered them, "Be on guard. We are not yet sure if the ship is hostile or not, but nonetheless, let's keep our guards up, just in case."
His team nodded, and the lieutenant proceeded, leading his squad deeper into the vessel.
"Ship's layout is a mess," Masin muttered as his team somehow managed to find their way across hallways and corridors to enter a large open area in the center of the superliner, the interior of which seemed to be a replication of some natural environment with a forest full of trees and other plants with walkways carefully cut through them, "the designers did not seem to have followed any sensible logic or design."
"That, or this is a really weird-looking ship and the designers decided to use a very strange way of structuring the interior."
"Or both."
"You're not wrong, I suppose."
"Alright," Masin called out, turning to face the rest of the team. "We'll split up here. Teams of twenty, keep a comm channel open between you and your partner at all times. I don't want us to have any casualties in this. We'll sweep this entire floor and search the other levels afterwards. Understood?"
A nod.
"Alright. Move out."
The vegetation here was dextro, which would be understandable enough if the shipbuilders were turian or of any other species composed of dextro-amino acids as far as he was concerned, but after a few scanning runs he suddenly felt a cold sweat begin to form when his scanners returned the data indicating that the fruits growing on the trees were all edible, despite being of a variety completely unheard of within the galaxy. The vegetation was all dextro, the fruit was all dextro, everything was dextro. This was most certainly not turian, but then what was it?
It was almost as if the ship was purpose-doctored for service within the Civilian Fleet as a liveship, as far as he knew, literally. The entire ship was deserted as far as his sensors were telling him, but sets of automated lighting came online everywhere he went, and as if to drive the final point home, the signs were written in three languages; Thessian, the galactic standard language, quarian, his native tounge, and a script that he could not read but was the language this species spoke, apparently. It was as if the ship was purpose-built for liveship duty. Everything pointed to it. The quarians had encountered a number of derelicts over the years and found some interesting stuff on them, but never had they encountered something quite as interesting as this.
"Lieutenant, we just found the entrance to the engineering section," one of the team members spoke to him via wireless. "The doors have been left wide open as far as we are concerned, and the place's literally as deserted as an abandoned burial-ground. The consoles, however, are absolutely not asari as far as I am concerned, it's closer to turian or batarian ones from their robust and angular design, but they're all in Thessian or even outright quarian for what appears to be no reason at all. The readings are telling me that all systems are on stand-by and can be activated at will, they're on stand-by, not shut off. It's almost as if this thing was left to us as a gift."
"That's what I'm thinking too," Masin responded. "But for what reason, and who is responsible for this?"
"Well, whoever it was, I'm sure we'll figure it out. It's almost as if they expected us to find this."
"Maybe. Either way, get ready to fire, and prepare for any potential attacks."
"Roger."
Masin looked at the scanner in his hand. The device was not reading any lifesigns whatsoever within the vicinity of the ship, so the vessel was deserted as far as he knew. Still, he could not help but wonder what the purpose of the ship was. He did not like any of this one bit, not one bit.
"All clear."
"All clear."
"Clear here."
The three reports came in, one after the other.
"Alright, head back up to the top-deck," Masin ordered. "There's nothing do—"
He was cut off mid-sentence when the leader of another detachment reported over the comms. "We found the entrance to the bridge, Lieutenant. It's a remarkably primintive setup with a literal wooden spoked wheel standing in the middle as if it was the steering control and what appears to be drums with handles on them to act as throttle controls, but there's also an active communications terminal that turned on when we came in. I've no idea who is on the other line, but he or she is self-identifying as 'Anita Goyle' and claims that this vessel is a gift to us, free of condition, and that he or she wishes to meet as soon as possible and establish diplomatic relations. It handed me a set of coordinates, presumably for rendezvous as well, and looped itself."
After a four-hour search of the entire vessel with an even larger boarding detachment with all four ships of the squandron as well as detachments from another few frigate formations joining in this time around, the engineers had more or less confirmed that the vessel was exactly as that one 'Anita Goyle' had said—a gift. There was absolutely nothing of notice within the ship, even with onimi-tool scanners scouring the entire place, computer experts pouring their sweat over the computer systems, and drones scanning the exterior and interior alike. They had found nothing, nothing, and absolutely nothing.
Welp, that wasn't really accurate, as far as things went; the ship used a totally different tech base compared to the one seen within the entire galaxy, and even when instruction manuals written in Thessian and quarian were literally everywhere, that wasn't really helping things much. For starters, it lacked eezo in any shape or form whatsoever, instead using that one substance the computers labeled 'navitasium' for manipulating gravity fields to attain the desired effects, as opposed to mass-effect systems the galaxy had (not to mention navitasium was literally unheard of within even the Terminus sector), and next up, it never bothered to use fusion torches for sublight travel at all, not in the very least; it instead went for a far more elaborate setup with antimatter reactors and torches, all of which came with their own hosts of problems given how antimatter systems worked as a whole. And the subject of FTL drives was more or less best left unasked nor unanswered, because it's theory of principle was so alien to the engineers that many had quite literally thrown their hands into the air and wrote 'Fucking Magic, Keelah Se'lai' onto their report cards. And that wasn't it.
Systems that would normally be seperate from each other were instead all lumped together into one grand piece of equipment that essentially turned any crewman manning them into multitasking commanders or else requiring whole crews plus a VI to man properly, and many an engineer had actually lost his or her sanity when yet another function that could've been handled by a single piece of equipment and two consoles were instead split across three systems and four decks in a clusterfuck of mechanical abnominations leaving engineers and technicians alike screaming in fustration and bewilderment, and that wasn't even mentioning the fact that the entire vessel was an absolute mess in terms of layout and design, seemingly designed for the purpose of aesthetics more than anything.
But the ship was still nonetheless a ship, and a large one at that, one easily rivalling the liveships within the Migrant Fleet in terms of raw size alone and possibly outpacing them a step further when counting the total amount of sheer volume, and thus, population space, the superliner could potentially hold. In fact, a rough estimate gave a number well exceeding 20 million, 30 even if one pushed the limits. A vessel like this could solve a lot of the population crises that were plaguing the Migrant Fleet.
They weren't letting such a prize go that easily.
Enterprise found herself questioning her life choices more and more as the quarian shuttle glided through the void of space with herself, a detachment of Alliance Marines with SA42 assault rifles—a more modern version of the SA18s she had always used before but still being almost identical in looks and performance nonetheless save perhaps a 20% increase in accuracy—for guard duty, a number of quarian marines, and Ambassador Anita Goyle herself, headed on a course leading straight towards the de facto flagship of the entire Migrant Fleet, the MFS Rayya. With the Marines stealing glances at her all the time as if she was a pop star (she wasn't). She was a Special Forces trooper and someone late out of the now-dissolved Seal Team Six, goddamn it, not some super-famous pop star straight from the Shinjuku Idol Contest Yearly; what did they want from her?!
She wasn't exactly the happiest camper right now, as much as she should've been. Her career had seen her participate in a number of engagements against the Abyssals and other assorted enemies of humanity, and in the end, she had made a name for herself as a capable Special Forces operative...one that certainly backfired spectacularly on her now that she had time to think of it. 'The savior of humanity', that title was something that she'd always expected to be bestowed on someone to either raise morale during the conflict or for whatever other political bullshit reason; having that same title bestowed on her was the absolute last thing she ever expected to happen.
She wasn't a hero. She was just a soldier who happened to do her job. That was all.
"...Enterprise-Captain," asked the quarian lieutenant who had remained silent for most of the ride so far, his eyes on the Marines casting glances back and forth in Enterprise's direction (quarian addressing conventions were similar to Japanese somehow, why, she had no idea), Masin'Sasaar nar Fugro if she remembered correctly, sending in her the questioning gaze of somebody who had exactly no idea what was going on. "Why does your fellow humans look at you like you're famous or something?"
Enterprise sighed. "Unexpected side effects of my Seal Team Six days, and the Second Abyssal War," she said, her mind turning back to the moment where the crew of the SMS Prinz Heinrich had picked her up, and how they had recognized her face and voice instantly. The media had made her into a hero, and thus, every single human within the galaxy had at least heard of her. Literally.
"Seal Team Six?" Masin asked. "Presumably it was a unit you fought in before, right?"
"...yeah, you'd be correct," Enterprise confirmed. "Those days were rough, though...lemme clarify for a sec. Thirty-seven years ago saw the conflict known as the Second Abyssal War, one that had been raging for eight years prior to that already, come to an end, and it was a war fought for the literal survival of our species as a whole; the sheer intensity of it would make the Krogan Rebellions seem like a joke or a playground scuffle, if you may forgive my analogy. Seal Team Six was a fireteam of N7s, special operatives roughly analogus to the Spectres of the Council, and in that team, I was the fireteam leader. Needless to say we saw deployment in all major theatres of conflict, and ranked up quite the kill count as well. That came at a price, however; Alpha Rendara was the last major operation we fought in, and there were the five of us, myself and four others; Samidare, Emerald, Hyperion, and Mikasa...they all met their end somewhere around the confines of that Abyssal base we raided, trying to cover our fellow troopers to get out alive. Out of that, I was the sole survivor, and Seal Team Six was presumably disbanded shortly afterwards."
"I see." The lieutenant paused, as if wondering how to respond. "I can relate. My first time out there, I lost two of my friends as well, and it's been haunting me ever since."
"Don't let it haunt you forever," Enterprise advised, her mind wandering back to those days where she had served. "It might seem difficult at first, but...don't let it affect your life. That's what I learned during those years of fighting, and believe me, those were the toughest eight years of my entire life."
"Thanks, but..." Masin shrugged. "I'll try my best, I suppose."
The quarian's omni-tool suddenly started beeping, and he opened it up. "We're almost at the Rayya. Brace yourselves, ladies and gentlemen, we're coming in hot."
Negotiations with aliens were interesting indeed, but the excitement wore off soon enough, and once it did, it was more than another session of peace talks that merely became ten times as exhausting than usual. She had already moved that one Tevos Callis up to the top of her list of 'dangerous political opponents'; that certain crafty asari Councillor would be sure to stick a nose, a foot, and four fingers plus a thumb into humanity's internal and external affairs and screw with them the moment she had the chance to. The past few days had readily worn her sanity down to bedrock level already, and she might turn herself in at the Hospital for the Mental Issues had it not been for a more permanent ambassador sent to replace her at the joint Alliance-Kaiserreich embassy—the Citadel had balked just as badly at humanity's disputes of the Citadel Conventions as they had of the Council's many bans and other assorted collections of international political diplomatic bullshit, which had more or less resulted in both the Alliance and the Empire backing out of their plans at becoming a Citadel member just like a drivier reversing his car out of a parking lot. They did, however, at the very least, manage to negotiate a joint embassy and just otherwise remain at arm's reach from each other, and all of that certainly didn't work wonders on her sleep scedule.
That had, thankfully, lifted the weight off her shoulders and allowed her to finally go and take a rest, but not before the whole Geth whanabe had happened, and as far as she was concerned, for the Imperial Princess, Illyasviel von Einzbern, that meant a trip all the way to the former quarian homeworld and now de facto capital of the Geth Consensus, Rannoch. At least this time around she would be just opening diplomatic relations and be done with it, but with the nature of their mission secrecy had to be maintained at all times, for the Citadel would be flipping the lid faster than the Gatling autocannon on a Rheinmetall 50mm point-defense gun if they found out.
"...the place is more...human, to say the least. I was expecting it to be more industrial, really. I never thought it would be this close to a human society, really, even if it's metallic as opposed to organic."
"We wished to emulate organic behavior to understand them," the Geth platform who was essentially their tour guide answered as he led them through the streets of the capital city of Rannoch, the place itself abuzz with Geth platforms going about their ordinary lives as if it was another (metallic) day in town, just like any other human city that she had been to, for that matter. The likes of Tokyo, Vienna, and Königsberg came to her mind easily enough.
"...you wanna simulate organic behavior, eh?"
"Yes, Mika-human," the Geth answered, addressing Illya's aide whose head was bobbing slightly to one side and letting her light blue hair flap around a bit as she did so. "We wished to understand the nature of your kind, and so we began imitating the organic ways of living, in hopes of eventually being accepted by you, despite our past mistakes. We do so in the hopes that eventually, we may be able to reach an understanding, and finally, peace, with the organic races within the galaxy, especially the Creators. Quarians, from your perspective."
Illyasviel shrugged. "We humans have plenty of AIs of our own, and they all come with their own suites of personality quirks and traits, but for a machine-race like you guys, I mean no offense, but trying to simulate organic behavior is a path that, well...is one leading straight to the Reichsnervenheilanstalt. You'd be getting on your hands a 'kan-musu-fit' at this rate, I tell ya. No offense intended, of course, but that's how I see it, and that's why, I suppose."
The Geth platform, Legion, apparently, turned his mechanical head with the cameras on it towards her questioningly. "May we inquire?"
"I wasn't there to witness it as it unfolded, but apparently the Councillors pitched a fit when they found out about the existence of our, well, fleetgirls," Illya responded, shrugging. "Apparently, the idea of 'ships somehow being summoned as literal girls who can breathe vacuum and summon mecha backpacks at will' was too much for them to handle. Pretty hilarious, if you ask me."
Legion remained silent, his optical sensors flickering with lights. "...we see," he said. "May we also inquire as to the subject of 'fleetgirls' though?"
"You know, ships, but not like the ones you guys use. Ships as girls, with a mecha backpacks, able to breath and fight in the void, and other various things," Illya answered.
"And how does that happen, exactly?"
"Well, there are many theories, but the most popular one is that their spirits are simply summoned and given the body of a human female and the mecha backpacks for combat," the princess answered, shrugging. "But it's not really that simple, if you ask me. You would think that it's like that, but it isn't, actually. We don't know exactly how the process works, even after having them around for nearly as long as the quarians had spent as the Migrant Fleet; literally; the furtherest we have gone so far is that if you somehow replicate the 'quantum signature' unique to a ship's 'spirit', then bam, they spawn in. Sometimes, it's just a regular artefact that was part of the vessel in question before, but other times, especially in times of dire situations, literal force of will. It's something that our researchers have had fits over before, and to this date, this was as far as we have gone. Except for 'Fucking Magic' scrawled across the report cards, obviously."
"Fascinating. We wish to inquire more about this topic later, but for now, our destination is just ahead."
Legion pointed with one of his mechanical arms, and Illya looked up to find a large, dome-shaped structure rising out of the city, seemingly the largest building of the lot. It was the former building that housed the Conclave of the Quarian Federation before, and now it was essentially the de facto seat of government for the Geth Consensus. The other buildings, as far as she was concerned, were exactly the same as they had looked like before the Morning War's events had left the city's skyline a burning mess, all restored to pristine condition and kept as if the conflict had never happened in the first place. The Geth clearly had taken the pains to restore and maintain historical monuments and buildings alike, evidently, even the statue of that one quarian historical figure riding atop what seemed to be their equivalent to a horse was spotless and elegant as if it was made only yesterday (it wasn't).
"The Conclave Dome, or the Consensus Chamber as it is known to us Geth," Legion informed her. "The place where the Geth Consensus meets, and where we hold our government. If we were to use organic terms to describe ourselves, then we would be a republic or democracy, and the Consensus is the legislative branch of our government."
"I see," Illya nodded. "And who's the chief executive, the judiciary, and the head of state, I suppose, then?"
"That would be the Geth Prime, an autonomous and mobile superintelligence composed of thousands of programs. The Prime is the leader of the Geth Consensus, and has final say on all matters that pass through the Consensus. As for the head of state and the judicial branch, the Geth Consensus functions as a legislative-executive-judicial tripartite, as would be found in a tricameral system, with the three branches being the Consensus, the Prime, and the Legion."
"Sounds a lot like the Empire, actually, in a way," Illya observed, nodding. "We have our own Kaiser and the Reichstag, with the latter being the legislative branch and the former being the the head of state. We vest the executive power in the Chancellor, or in our case, the Reichskanzler, who shares it with his or her Reichskabinett and Reichstag, however."
"We are aware. Your kind and ours have similar political systems."
"So..." Illya gestured at the Conclave Dome as the group reached the gates, the guards—more Geth platforms—saluting in the process, "what's next? Are we to enter and discuss with your people or something like that?"
"Correct, Illyasviel-Prinzessin. You are to discuss with us, and then the Consensus will make its decision, and from then on, the Geth Consensus will either establish formal diplomatic relations with the GroßEdelweiß Kaiserreich or not."
"Well, let's not waste time, then," Illya said. "I'm getting tired, and I want to rest already."
"This platform concurs."
The two, followed by the small group behind them, marched into the dome and through the gates.
Welp, here goes nothin'.
Three hundred years wandering the stars like space Mongols had certainly taught the quarians how to self-govern well enough, thought Anita to herself as she casually entered the Conclave room of the Migrant fleet, on the MFS Rayya, the effective capital of quarian society.
The Conclave, the seat of government for the Alliance's Grand Assembly, or the Kaiserreich's Reichsrat, was built around the concept of equal representation for all ships and the population, and it was a system that worked well for the quarians, as far as she was concerned. The ways which they were represented were also highly similar, as well.
The primary issue with an population-scaled-state system was the so-called 'tyranny of the majority', where the larger states with vastly bigger populations and thus more seats would simply steamroll over the smaller states, and the quarian fleet, despite the best efforts of the individual ships to maintain a sense of community, was no exception. But at the same time, having an equal-state system meant just as equal amounts of problems when it came to the 'tyranny of the minority' issue, in effect a reversed form of the same problem.
The solution to the problem was the 'no less than one' system, effectively to bar the smaller participants with population numbers below a million from entering the Conclave in the first place, instead grouping smaller states into one larger one that voiced the combined interests of the smaller states it represented, and the Conclave itself was the epitome of this. It was a system that allowed the quarians to avoid the issues associated with the 'tyranny of the majority' and the 'tyranny of the minority' in one go, and while granted, it had it's own flaws as well, it was still one that worked nonetheless. The Alliance's Grand Assembly and the Kaiserreich's Reichsrat worked on a virtually identical system, with the scaling being on a 'per billion' basis instead of a 'million' basis, and both systems worked relatively fine. The Migrant Fleet had been sailing for 300 years straight already, and with 350 representatives inside the Conclave right at this moment, plus the Speaker, it was a system that, while admittedly cumbersome at times, nonetheless worked.
"Welcome to the Migrant Fleet, Ambassador Goyle," the Speaker announced. "We have been expecting your arrival."
"It's good to be here," Anita greeted, a slight smile on her face as she took the podium and looked at the assembly. The room itself was a round hall with an elevated stage, and behind the speaker was the emblem of the Migrant Fleet, a simple stylized ship symbol against a white background with blue edges. "I have come to you with the intent of establishing formal diplomatic relations between our two races. I would like to believe that the prospect sounds reasonable enough for both of us, yes?"
"It is very welcome," came the answer. "The gift you offered to us earlier has become a very welcome addition to the Migrant Fleet. You would be glad to know that it has already begun to help solve many of the issues regarding the Fleet's population size, and we are looking forward to further negotiations on the matter."
"I would gladly be able to," Anita responded, nodding. "A gesture of goodwill from the Alliance, it was, and we're glad to see it put to good use. We were appalled by the galactic community's treatment of you, and merely wanted to do something about it. That was the least we could do."
Murmurs spread around for a bit around the ranks of the Conclave as Anita spoke again. "Anyways, let me bring ourselves around to the main point; we wish to open diplomatic relations between us and the Alliance; a matter which I may have brought to your notice earlier, and apparently, something you have already decided upon. In the meantime, I have a second proposal. The Alliance is currently researching eezo-based technology and attempting to incoporate it into our own existing technological base; we would very much appreciate quarian input in the process. As good as we are in our own navitasium technology systems, eezo is as foreign to us as our systems may be to you."
"You wish for the assistance of our researchers?"
"Yes, and we are willing to pay."
"And what do you have to offer us in exchange, Ambassador?"
"As far as the quarians are concerned, the galaxy is a hostile place," Anita said. "The Alliance would gladly be able to provide support to the Migrant Fleet, especially in the military and security fields. We can offer you assistance in return with our own examples of navitasium-based technology and use jointly examples of hybrid systems that we and you may be able to jointly develop. In further addition, thanks to the deep pockets of the Board at the Cunard offices in Southampton, we have managed to get our hands on two more liners equivalent to the Gaia, the vessel we gifted you earlier; the Ruritania and the Aleria. Provided that this proposal is accepted, we will offer then to you for permanent service within the Migrant Fleet."
Understandably enough, more murmurs began to spread amongst the Conclave, just as she had expected; the prospect of effectively doubling the amount of liveships within the Migrant Fleet was more than enough to do the trick. If the specs at Harland & Wolff were telling the truth, then these ships, following modifications, would be able to house upwards of 60 million occupants (the combined capacity of all three ships combined) inside comfortably, even up to 100 if one pushed the ration a bit. But either way, the chance to increase the population capacity of the Migrant Fleet by 33% was a tempting one indeed, even if to many, it would be a lot to offer in exchange for so little.
"This seems...unusually generous," Representative Zaal'Koris vas Quib Quib spoke up, his tone betraying the doubt he felt. "What do you stand to gain from this?"
"Not a lot, really," Anita admitted. "But that dosen't really matter for us. If I am to be honest, here, while our history may vastly suggest otherwise, we often like to think of ourselves as honorable and honest, if not blunt; while we could haggle for a lower price on our end, that would be like kicking someone when they're already on their knees. As much as we are tempted to do so, given your situation, we are not going to squeeze you quarians of your hard-earned talents cheaply when we can afford to pay a fair price. Which we can."
The murmuring grew in intensity as she continued, the Conclave discussing her words among themselves; some muttering angrily at the human ambassador's pointing out of how truly weak they were in these negotiations; but others still shared a common, begrudging respect for her simple bluntness. That wasn't really a trait that any other diplomat from the Citadel had ever shown them, not even the volus, and certainly not the asari.
"...does anyone have any objections to the proposal?" the Speaker said after a pause.
"I'm pretty sure nobody has, else they've voiced it out a long time ago," Anita interjected, causing a few chuckles to sound out across the Conclave. "And besides, you have the entirety of humanity and the Alliance at your side. We're a powerful, growing race with a strong economy and a vast industrial base. I'd say we're a good bet to have on board with, if you ask me."
The Speaker turned his gaze across the Conclave, and when none replied, he spoke, his voice carrying clearly across the assembly hall.
"Then we shall put the matter to vote."
The votes were cast.
"The vote is concluded," the Speaker announced after the voting time came to a halt. "By 172 to 87 with 101 abstentions, the resolution shall be passed. Ambassador Goyle, on behalf of the Migrant Fleet, I thank you and your people for their generosity."
"Thank you, Speaker," Anita bowed.
"Then so it is," the Speaker said. "The Conclave hereby accepts the proposal of establishing diplomatic relations with the Alliance, and agrees to cooperate with you on the matter of the research into eezo-based technology and its incorporation within the Alliance's existing technological base."
"I'm glad to see that we have reached a conclusion," Anita said, a smile on her face. "We have a deal. The Alliance and humanity looks forward to working with you, and hopefully, we may find a future together."
Glancing at the Admiralty Board as they marked the passage of the bill into law, inwardly, Anita was far from relieved. The first crisis had been dealt with, and now...
"...so how's things with the Geth going?" Reichskanzler Reita Wedekind spoke into the earpiece of the rotary-dial telephone inside of her office at New Berlin, the capital city of the GroßEdelweiß Kaiserreich. While her offices at Königsberg were a place that she often frequented, she did prefer her personal office in the Palace of New Berlin more, if only for the fact that she was actually at home here and the staff was more friendly.
"The talks have gone rather well, all things considered," Illyasviel answered. "They've accepted the terms of the Alliance and the Empire, and are willing to enter a relationship with the governments. They'll be sending a team of diplomats off to Königsberg in three days, maybe two if we're lucky. That only leaves us with a minor problem; however. We'll need to keep this secret, else the Citadel'd shit themselves should they find out; as I explained before. I could've drummed up half a dozen methods to get the job done, bruuuh, but just because I'm feeling kinda wierd to-day I decided to push the job to you for no reason. So get it done and over with before the Reichstag lumps more work onto your head."
"Thanks, Illya," the Reichskanzler said sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "As if the Reichsrat isn't giving me enough headache as it is, with the current debates and the election year coming up."
"It's what you signed yourself up for when you became Chancellor, Rei-Rei."
"Shut up, you."
"Nyeeh. Well, anyways, gotta go, the Geth're here, and I don't wanna keep them waiting, 'kay? Ciao~!"
And with that, Illya hung up.
Wedekind sighed. She'd have to find a way to make sure that the Geth's presence remained a secret from the Council and the rest of the galactic community, or else there would be hell to pay. And that was exactly the last thing the Alliance needed at this time. Much less the Empire.
"...Herrin Kanzler?" A young woman peeked through the doorway. "Your next meeting's in a few minutes. Shall I get the car ready?"
"That'd be a nice idea, yes, Frau Hoffmann," Wedekind replied, nodding. "Tell the driver to wait for me. I'll be down shortly."
"Alright. Just let me know if there's anything else, ma'am."
"Sure."
Sighing again, the Reichskanzler stood up and strode out of the room.
Chancellor;
I miscalculated. Hand me an extra quarter of a billion pounds pls
_ur fwiend_
Bruh.
Codex entry — Warfare — Naval warfare and tactics
Space battles were rarely one-shot-one-blow affairs; contrany to popular belief. The most common types of spatial warfare involve large fleets splitting into dozens, if not hundreds, of smaller detachments, to cover an area often as vast as entire star systems and engaging in a battle of attrition or simple grit and will. It is not unheard of for the numbers in such battles to sometimes exceed 2,000 ships.
Battles commonly seen in media—pitched battles, essentially, are vastly different, and also vastly more rare. Normal battles are roughly analogus to attrition battles fought in a style described by many humans as 'cat-and-mouse'; to engage other detachments in hit-and-run attacks before pulling out; a style of combat that may favor smaller combatants in some situations, as they can engage and defeat the enemy in piecemeal fashion. Pitched battles, on the other hand, are often the result of literal weeks of preparation and setup beforehand—often around areas of extreme value, such as a trans-relay assault.
There are two main types of pitched battles that can be engaged in: The first type is the standard-style engagement, and the second, the ambush. Both of them, however, share a similar pattern; the fleet enters the system, usually under the cover of FTL, and proceeds to deploy and set up for the engagement, and the enemy fleet does the same. The two fleets would then proceed to charge into battle, and the carnage begins. In the case of the latter, it favors the ambushing side vastly, due to the nature of relay transits. If ambushes are set up correctly, battles can be decided within literal minutes after the commencement.
Despite this, however, pitched battles are rarely seeked by admirals and commanders due to the brutal consequences that may arise from them—should things go wrong, they have the potential to turn into disasters faster than the speed of light; as it would often be virtually impossible to pull out of such a situation, as opposed to a normal large-field battle. Within the entire history of humanity, there has remained to date only nine pitched battles fought throughout the entire course of their space-faring history—the First and Second Battles of Columbia (First Inner Planets War), Mirangal, Midway, Columbia (Second Inner Planets War), Estuary, Nürnberg, Nämberch (Second Abyssal War), and Shanxi (First Contact War). All but one of those battles resulted in decisive victories for the human side; the exceptions being the Estuary incident. In the case of Shanxi, as can be remembered, the Alliance fleet slowed their pace down sufficiently to be able to catch the enemy just as they began to form up around Relay 313 and engage them directly in one straight up battle, winning the conflict decisively in their favor.
In a sense, naval combat can be thought of as a giant game of chess. A battle is won when the opposing side has no choice but to retreat or surrender, or has lost so much of its capability to fight that it is rendered effectively ineffective. A battle is rarely a battle won or lost through pure firepower or raw numbers alone.
There are many different ways a species may chose to this type of warfare. Turians focus on large wolfpacks of frigates to draw and harass enemy formations from afar while cruisers form the anchor of a battle-line, allowing larger dreadnoughts to chew up the enemy once the frigates have lured them successfully into the firing arcs of the battle-line; salarians focus instead on electronic warfare and guerrilla-style attacks against the enemy's rear or flanks until the enemy withdraws or is unable to fight; while in the case of the asari, they opt to teleport the entirety of their fleet to bear on a single detachment and destroying it utterly before moving onto the next one (to faciliate this, they employ twin mass-effect drive cores on their ships as opposed to the galactic standard of one, allowing for rapid jumps in and out of combat zones, at the penalty of the oval hole that compromises structural integrity due to interference from both cores causing the space inside the hole to become a blender of mass-effect fields skewering around with each other), the next one after that, and so on.
Humans however, muddy up the waters even further with their introduction of carriers to spatial warfare; while fighters are historically moot in spatial warfare human fighters negate most of their weaknesses with short-range FTL drives that allow for carrier-launched fighters to engage capital ships in short range, and thus negate the massive disadvantage of having to traverse a distance of a thousand kilometres or so in order to be able to engage a target. Carrier groups are deployed alongside battleships in isolated detachments, with the primary role of carriers being to deliver a massive, devastating blow to large capital ships in enemy fleets to stop them in their tracks for long enough that the battleships can show up and destroy them.
And finally, there is the use of artificial intelligence. As the use of artificial intelligence (virtual intelligence in the case of the Citadel) has become increasingly common throughout the galaxy, its application in the field of naval warfare is not far behind, as the Geth are so far the only known examples of a race that is composed entirely of artificial intelligences, and thus, they are the ones who have come to utilize it the most, as a result. The Geth are capable of integrating their intelligence-based nature into their very ships, allowing them to communicate and function together as a single entity. Geth ships are also known to be capable of linking their computing power together to perform tasks, such as jamming enemy communications, or the more dangerous option, hacking into an enemy ship and seizing control of it, thus rendering the vessel and its crew prisoners on board.
Human fleets employ an interesting mix of all of the above; using large crews of AI personnel to coordinate them to uncanny levels. It is not uncommon to see an entire Alliance fleet act and behave like a single unit, a single mind, instead of a large collection of vessels. A major example of this is the humans' 'battlenet', which is effectively a network of all the AIs (and humans equipped with neural interfaces) that permit tactical information to be shared from surface installations all the way to the far ends of a star system. This makes human tactics a lot more complex, and allows for a great deal of coordination between the various members of the Alliance's military forces, and it is the humans' ability to do so that makes them an opponent not to be taken lightly.
A/N:
Google 'BNL Axiom' for visuals of the Cunard liner bruh
Also a minor plot-hole that I worked myself into before; Shepard eating quarian pastries when they're dextro and humans are levo:
(1, there exists levo and dextro versions of the same food that tastes essentially the same, because of what essentially amounts to fabricators from Subnautica, where you feed hydrogen and carbon into the printer and it spits you perfect food (lol)
(2, fleetgirls (their digestive systems) aren't picky. They can eat dextro foods no problem, they just can't digest them. Won't stop them from levo-ifying some, though
(3, quarians are a 'hybrid' species owing to their homeworld having both levo and dextro plants, and because evolution magic, they can eat both types; so Shepard's pastry is levo
(4, a mix of all the above (lmao)