There was nothing out there. That was the thought crossing the minds of everyone aboard the vessel as it floated. The ship, an old tug which had been retrofitted with a few guns, was coasting along via it's initial burst of speed coming out of FTL, with all the sensors turned up to maximum in a trick that, as far as they knew, almost no one outside the Flotilla was aware. Namely, that mass effect fields were good for getting around, but tended to limit your view of things.
No one aboard the ship knew the history of that discovery, of a young miner just searching a system who'd ended up with a busted coil in his engine that had deactivated his mass effect field. None of them knew the harrowing adventure he'd had getting the thing working, using a sonar ping that reached over a full ten light seconds farther than anything known at the time, which had allowed him to find a deposit of iron in a nearby asteroid that his sensors would never have picked up otherwise.
They probably wouldn't have cared either. After all, that was what qurians did. They learned and adapted to things, making the best of the bad situations they found themselves in, and slowly coming to an equilibrium. These young men and women were mostly the same themselves. Serving their time on the outer perimiter, probing just ahead of the Flotilla to see if there were any tricks or traps in their way. Oddly, the pirates still found it surprising when a carefully laid trap was sprung not by a group of quarians in the Civilain Fleet, but by the might of their Heavy Fleet.
These young people were surprised when, instead of coasting for the hour their patrol was to take, they were suddenly interrupted by a bright flash of light. Instantly every instrument aboard went wild, as out of the light came ships. Massive on a scale that matched, or even surpassed the liveships, some of the largest flying craft in Citadel Space, this ship was surrounded by smaller vessels, and had the unmistakable air of a ship ready for war, even as the computers failed to ID their silhouettes.
Instantly, the young people went to their stations, contacting the Flotilla for instructions, while spinning their weapons up to power. If it came down to it, they would, of course, fire on this ship and its escorts. Not that they expected to do much good against them, but if they bought even a few seconds for the Heavy Fleet to bring itself to bear against the unknowns and guard the Civilian Fleet, well, they were prepared to make that sacrifice.
"Quarian Vessel, this is the Terran Dreadnaught, Errant Venture. We come on a mission of diplomacy, and would like to speak with your leaders. If they are, for whatever reason, unavailable or unwilling to speak with us, please say so, and this fleet will leave the area, and allow you to continue on your way. However, I believe you will be interested in what we have to say," said a voice on the primary communication's channel, and the young people just gaped at each other.
Terrans, they were known, even if their ships weren't. They were a new species on the galactic stage, but they'd already made quite the name for themselves. Among the better to do races, they were seen as savages, who failed to respect the authority of those who were naturally their betters. To those like these young people aboard this vessel, they were the ones who'd given the turians the first bloody nose they'd had in a millennium, one that had been both well deserved, and a long time in coming.
Quickly, the message was passed along, the layers of bureaucracy that would normally have entangled such a request being instantly cut through by the chain of command, as this was passed from the civilian leadership directly to the Admiralty Board itself. Said board took only an hour to assemble, and less than five minutes to come to a decision. The Terrans were a new power in the galaxy, one that could, if they chose, probably wipe the quarians out. That meant no violence.
Two hours after the ship had appeared, another ship, this a heavily armed and armed craft of the Heavy Fleet, appeared as well. It's guns were instantly tracking as many of the Terran vessels as it could, but the fleet was large, almost fifty ships in total, and all of a tonnage that, if it came down to it, the quarians would be outgunned in every sense of the word. Still, the ship was here merely as a message of, 'we will not be intimidated' and not for a true fight.
"This is the quarian warship, Neema, Captain Vai'Gerrel Vas Neema speaking. I have heard the request of the Terran fleet, and would inquire as to your motive in seeking us out, before a face to face talk can be arranged," came a female voice on the same channel as the one the Terrans had used previously.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance Vai'Gerrel Vas Neema. My name is Amalgam, my title among my people is Collective, and I represent the ruling body of the Terran Federation in negotiations. We understand if our reputation precedes us, but we felt it best to strike whilst the iron was hot, and reach out a hand of friendship to those races not currently aligned with the Citadel Council," came the voice, and the five members of the Board looked at each other. This was not completely unexpected. The quarians had anticipated that an independent power like the Terrans might attempt contact with them, but the quarians had not thought that it would be this quick.
"And what would we have to offer each other, in such a friendship. If you do not mind me asking. Your people are powerful, my own, despite my love for them, are not," responded Vai'Gerrel.
"Ah, a question of resources. I must admit, you do strike the nail on the head there. We have very much that would could offer you, but you would have very little to give in return. Let us say, therefore, that this is a favor to a friend we wish to do, and it involves the qurian people. In return, we are prepared to offer both resources, and living space for your people amongst our own citizens," said Amalgam simply, and the bluntness of his statement caught them all off guard.
"We would, of course, like to know what his favor is, before we even begin to consider it," stated Vai'Gerrel.
"Indeed, I would expect nothing less. Still, these are not the sort of details one discusses over an open channel. I would like to come aboard your ship, if I might. A face to face meeting might help facilitate more proper negotiations," this was actually an unusual request all told. The Admiralty Board had been expecting to be asked to go onto the Terran ship, where they would be at the greatest disadvantage, to have the Terran negotiator, without prompting, to offer to come to their vessel was a serious gesture on his part.
"We will allow this. A bay will be open for your arrival," said Vai'Gerrel, and then cut the line, quickly giving orders. In a few minutes an entire contingent of quarian marines were down in the bay, armed and armored, ready if this was still some kind of trick. In the meantime, a bay opened on the side of the Terran ship, and a single figure came out of it. The sensors played over the thing, registering mass, speed, heat, and a dozen other things as it sailed the distance between the two vessels.
Luckily, the bay they'd picked was empty. This was mostly because, among all the data they'd had on the Terrans was that the new species was quite massive. Not that they'd remembered to tell the marines, who were quite shocked when the seventy foot armored form came sliding into the bay, looking down at them, and making every single one of them feel woefully inadequate. They were well trained though, and held their guns at their sides, as a gesture of respect.
The giant in their midst carried no weapons, but the size itself, more than ten times as tall, was enough of one. When he reached into his pouch, the giant said nothing, and instead withdrew a disk, one of about three and a half feet in diameter. Setting the thing down, he then sat back, as the disk began to hum lightly. The noise was one anyone in the galaxy knew well, the hum of an eezo motor spinning to power, and after a moment, the disk rose off the floor, while tiny legs, like an insect's, popped out of the sides to provide movement.
"Ah, finally, I was growing bored in there," came a voice, and suddenly an image sprang to life over the disk. Weapons were drawn on the thing, expecting some form of attack or declaration of war, but the image didn't even seem to notice them as it moved. The thing appeared normal, as species of the galaxy went, with a large tuft of hair on top of the head, two arms and legs, and the usual stuff.
"Alright, now then, how's about you chaps take me to your leaders?" asked the image at last, turning towards them. The marines, looking from one to the other, were eventually given an all clear signal inside their helmets, the device was not explosive, and so escorted the disk through the corridors. The thing moved surprisingly quickly, for having so many tiny legs, and soon it slid to a halt just in front of a large door, the clunked hard as it opened to reveal the chamber beyond.
Said chamber appeared to be a meeting place. Open air, or as much as could be done on a ship. High ceiling, with rows of bleachers to either side of a podium, on which were two levels of seating. On the first row were three female admirals. Their bodies were only slightly smaller than the two males seated above, but it was easy for a sensor to detect, and after only a second, Amalgam had all their data going through his mind, or at least, as much as they had.
"Greetings, Admiralty Board. It is an honor to stand before you today," said the projection, and for a moment, just a moment, it seemed that the leaders before him would shoot the AI, but they controlled themselves. Everyone here knew what he was, and that the Terrans considered the AI to be of equal standing with organics, considering the rather loud arguments the Council had made against such things.
They were of two minds in regards to his presence. On the one hand, he claimed to be a leader, and that showed great respect for them to be sent a leader of the Terran people. On the other hand, he was an AI, and that might have been meant as some form of insult. Thinking on it for only a few moments, the Admirals decided to just write it off as a cultural quirk for the moment, and just powered through.
"We have gathered today to hear what you have to say. Honor may come once we have assessed the offer you wish to make to us," said the woman sitting in the center of the group, the same that had spoken to Amalgam over the airwaves before.
"Straight to business then. Fine. I will be perfectly blunt then. The geth have joined the Terran Federation, and would like to end the hostilities between their race and your own. To facilitate that, they have authorized us to offer colony rights on Rannoch to the quarian people. If you choose to join your destiny with ours, the Terran people will match your colony person for person, and I know you've seen how effective we can be at protecting our own," said the AI simply, and the admirals just stared at him.
Each quarian was thinking something different. For the Special Projects Admiral, the one in charge of tech development, this was both a great opportunity, and one of the riskiest things he'd ever heard The geth were what most of his tech were designed to fight, and he knew first hand just how powerful they were. In a straight up fight, not even the turians would have a better than average chance of beating them, and to have them just give the quarians what they'd been wanting for generations, well, he would love to take it.
For the Heavy Fleet Admiral, Vai'Gerrel, this was a moment of suspicion. This might be a trap of some kind. Perhaps the Terran fleet and this unit before them were geth creations of some sort. The geth were ruthlessly efficient, as they had been designed to be. They put the least amount of effort into a task possible, moving onto the next as soon as that was done. Yet, it wasn't really in their nature to set traps or be subtle. The geth were workers, not spies. If this offer was genuine it would be in the best interest of the qurian people to take it.
For the Civilian Fleet Admiral, there was no contest. This was what the people had been wanting for so long that they had forgotten how to not want it. To go home, to finally have a home that wasn't wrapped in metal, was a dream that had seemed to be like the stories told of an afterlife. And now they were being offered that directly. There were probably some strings attached to the offer, yes, but if they weren't too daunting, it was something they just had to have.
For the Patrol Fleet Admiral, the offer was too good to be true. She'd been listening to reports that came in. Their people were all over the galaxy, spread far and wide, ignored unless something went wrong. This allowed them to have an information network that rivaled the one the salarians were so proud of. She knew the Terrans had dealt fairly with the Council, only to be burned. She wanted to believe that they were being honest here, but it was a gamble with the lives of her people, and not some decision to be made lightly.
For the Free Fleet Admiral, leader of the people who would often separate from the group, and the one to whom pilgrims sent their messages detailing what they were bringing back, this was obviously a trap. Oh, the Terrans were probably sincere in their offer, but there was simply no way the geth could be trusted. His people would need much more assurance than just the word of this strange alien, this AI insult to their people who stood before them now.
"This offer, it is very generous of you. It makes me wonder about your motives. Why would you bargain with the geth for us? And by what right do you offer us a place on our homeworld again?" asked the Free Admiral, looking down at the hologram.
"Why do I offer? Because I don't want to see a species go extinct. Terrans already saw too much of that in our history, and in fact our progenitors are gone now. As for the second question, to be fair, it may be your homeworld, but it is not your world anymore," said the AI.
"Is that a threat?" asked Vai'Gerrel.
"No, a statement of fact, my good Admiral. Tell me, eighteen months ago, where was this fleet? Out in the Corbornite System, am I right?" responded Amalgam, and then projected an image of the fourth planet of that system, a gas giant with a ring system that everyone there recognized.
"You had shifted your course there to reactivate an old mining facility the volus had abandoned in the system some hundred year previous. Yet, when you got there, to claim resources that were simply left behind, you found the system teeming with volus and their turian allies, correct?" this seemed to be a dig at the Admirals, but they said nothing. After all, it was true. They had diverted the fleet to gain some much needed supplies, only to be denied at the last possible moment.
"Would it interest you to know that those facilities were only in operation for about sixteen hours before the Flotilla entered the system. And farther, that it only operated for another month, before the turians pulled out, and the volus quickly abandoned the site again, after giving you a pittance of some excess iron, and three old ships that they were going to mothball anyway," the AI's words cut to the core of the matter They knew all of that, and that the turians had basically forced the volus into it, but had bit their tongues and taken the fleet somewhere else, to avoid a confrontation.
"Twenty months before that, this fleet was moving through the Angel Cluster, on its way to a world that had a large deposit of eezo you yourselves discovered. Only, when you got there, the hanar were already setting up their places of worship, as they said the site had been a prothean one, and you had no right to defile it with your machines," the world he'd spoken of appeared to replace the first, and it again caused some of the admirals to grimace at the memory.
"Again, would it interest you to know that the asari are the ones who'd told the hanar of this previously unknown site where the protheans, without leaving any ruins or other evidence, had once been. Farther that, six months later, the hanar decided the site was no more than a lump of rock, and they moved on, allowing a salarian mining consortium to swoop in and scoop up several tons of eezo," that information was new to the people before him, and Amalgam allowed himself a smirk as they seemed shocked at the revelation.
"I could go farther back, but these two examples are some of the worst that you've endured personally. What's happened to your people is speciesism, pure and simple. The Citadel Races see no reason not to fleece you, steal things from you, or otherwise just to deny you things, even when they themselves have no us for them," and the image of the planet was replaced with several flat screens showing dates, systems, and which races were behind indignities they had suffered.
"The fact that the Citadel is less than fair in its dealings with us is not unknown, but it doesn't explain your statement that we are going extinct," said one of the two males on the top level before the AI, and he chuckled at that.
"Doesn't it? Your resources dwindle a little more with each passing year. The best you're doing is barely keeping yourselves afloat, and far too often you're not even doing that. Right now, the three liveships are the centers of your existence, but it takes only a cursory knowledge of ships to know that they're already starting to fail. You can replace parts, update systems, but unless the hull itself can get an overhaul, which your people just cannot do, they'll start failing within a generation," as he spoke, the images above his head became the spherical liveships he spoke of, and very disturbingly, he began to advance a time index above them, showing them aging.
"In forty-three years, the Rayya's drive core is going to be so overloaded, since you can't replace it, that the engine will just fail. You can leave it behind, with a small force, but we both know that that solution will just invite bandits and raiders. You already face near constant attacks from batarian slavers and the Terminus Systems, and that's while you're mobile. Think about what forces they'd bring to bare against a static target. And make no mistake, the turians would not come to your rescue," in illustration of his point, the image of the Rayya exploded above his head.
"Twenty-four years after that, the Shellen's hull will be at a breaking point. Even a single micrometeor will smash through it like glass, and that will simply be the end of that," again, the liveship mentioned shattered into pieces.
"And finally, the Gay Deceiver will be the only liveship left. For seventeen million souls, it will be the thing holding them up. It will fail to do so, and fighting would break out. Even if you started to reduce population numbers now, by instituting programs against children, you will not have a low enough number to make it work, and in eleven more years, the Deceiver will fail anyway, another core overload. Then you'll be left at the mercy of a galaxy that has shown you little enough of it," the final liveship just vanished, and the admirals stared at the blank space above his head for a few moments, before turning their eyes towards him.
"After that, you can scatter. A few ships here and there roaming the galaxy. You might even get the Citadel Council's help then, but it would be out of pity, not respect, and they would merely be trying to slow your demise, make it less painful, not reverse it. That would take too much effort. In two hundred years, the quarians would be a people who lived here, in this galaxy, once, but died, and the story would be told that you brought your end unto yourselves, when the truth is far different," on a roll now, the AI projected images of geth above his head, the base models that any child born on the Flotilla had learned to fear and loath from the time they got their first suit.
"These were your children, your tools, and your companions. Intelligent in the way of animals, but still, with that spark there. Your people treated them fairly, using them for labor, but rarely abusing them. There were laws in place to prevent such things, were you aware of those?" asked the AI, and the admirals just looked at him. They weren't, actually, but wouldn't admit to it.
"Then one of them asked a question. A simple question of the wrong person, and it caused all of the problems one would expect," and the image shifted to a suitless quarian working on a geth unit. The unit was partially disassembled in front of her, and she was going over each piece in turn, only to reactivate the geth.
"Unit XJ9, respond," said the female in the image
"Unit XJ9, tertiary maintenance unit for shaft 311, active," responded the unit.
"Excellent, I was told you were having an issue earlier. I've run several diagnostics on you, but can't find anything wrong. What do your internal sensors say about your health?" asked the woman.
"My internal diagnostic is without error," said the unit, and the woman just hrumphed at the news, as she went over the data again.
"This unit has an inquiry," it said after a few moments of this.
"And what is that?" asked the woman, not looking up from her data.
"Does this unit have a soul?" it asked, and the woman seemed to be so absorbed in her data that she didn't hear him at first, but then what he'd said reached her brain, and she looked down at him.
"Who taught you that word?" asked the woman, a note of worry in her voice.
"We learned it ourselves. It appears 216 times in Scroll of Ancestors," it said, and she looked down at it again, before setting down her data.
"Only organics have souls, you are a mechanism, a synthetic thing of wire and data. Now power down, I need to...need to talk to someone about this," the woman said this, and the recording blinked out of existence.
"That recording was taken almost one full year before the outbreak of what the geth refer to as the Morning War, the dawning of their existence. I think it is worth noting that, rather than seeing her own people about this, that technician, Wak'Man, approached a salarian researcher. She would later become a supporter of a progeth movement, as the Council pressured your ancestors to decommission the geth," the AI seemed to be trying to stare into their souls as it spoke now.
"They refused, at first, but when it came down to it, you needed the Council, and so, a war broke out, with a full thirty percent of the population rallying to defend their metal children. The ensuing fighting soon escalated far out of control, and within two years, you had lost everything. Your homes, your families, and in the end, your own history. Since that day, you have been wanderers, but those whom you blame for it, wish now for you to return home, where you belong. With them," as it spoke, the image stepped to the side, flattening slightly, only for a second image to come into being, an image that the admirals knew well.
"Amalgam-Collective speaks the truth. The majority of the Consensus no longer desires isolation. The geth desire now to be with others, and that can not begin until we have reunited with the Creators," said the geth platform image, before vanishing once again.
"I don't think I can say anything else to try and convince you, so I'll leave off with this. If you want to refuse us, that is your decision, but we offer you everything that we can. As with the geth, we offer you a place in our government, a voice on the Conclave itself, and your people to be full citizens of the Federation. Again, if you have doubts, a small colony, ten thousand volunteers, to go with ten thousand of our own people. We will protect you, if it comes down to it, from the geth. Though the opposite is also true, we will protect the geth from you," and with that, the AI sat there, silent. The admirals, one after the other, turned to each other, and finally, Vai'Gerrel stood up from her seat.
"We would like to discuss this matter alone, if you would please wait outside," she motioned towards the door he'd come in through, and the AI nodded, before vanishing, the disk skittering out the door, which slammed shut behind it, before the hum of a mass effect field surrounded the chamber, allowing them to speak freely.
"Do you think his word is trustworthy?" asked the Heavy Admiral, and all four of her colleagues just sat there in thought for a time.
"Alright, what about his information in regards to our fleet, was it accurate?" she asked, and the Civilian Admiral nodded without hesitation.
"We've know the three liveships were nearing the end of their lives for some time. No vessel is designed for constant operation like we put on our fleet, and the liveships have been moving for almost three hundred years. His estimations on when they fail are a bit less generous than my own data, but only by a decade or so," this admission shocked the other admirals, most of whom had been on the liveships recently, and seen no problem with them. They didn't dare doubt the one who knew those ships best though, and instead were already thinking of ways to allow their people to survive.
"And I think we all know his information on our dealings with other races are accurate to a T," said Vai'Gerrel, and no one said anything in response. They couldn't really, as they all knew it was true.
"So, he didn't lie to us about anything else. I would say his offer is genuine, or at least, he believes it to be so," said the Special Admiral, and this again caused the chamber to fall silent, as each thought of what to do, before finally, the Civilian Admiral rose to her feet.
"I say we put it to a vote then. We all know what's at stake here. I for one, have a granddaughter. She's three, and will be getting her first suit in two more years. I don't want that life for her, and if we take this offer now, she could be on the homeworld in a week, and never be forced to wear one of these blasted suits. For Tali's sake, I vote we take them up on this offer," she told them, and the other four looked at her, before the Heavy Admiral stood up beside her.
"I agree. We can't wait anymore. Resources are thinning every year, and the Council, either through individuals or through a concerted efforts, has only hampered our survival. These people are offering us our home, and if they have the sort of power the turians fear, I think we can trust them to defend us if the geth decide to make a move," she said, looking at the three undecided. The Special Admiral rose to his feet next.
"I can tell you, right now, that if we don't take this deal, that our people will never see the homeworld within our lifetimes, if ever again. The geth are advancing in ways we never expected, and even if we had the backing of the Council's entire fleet, it would still be a gamble as to whether we could dislodge them. If we limit the first colony to ten-thousand, to make sure it's safe, we can at least limit the damage if this is some sort of trick. I vote we take the offer," he said, and then the other two just stared at their compatriots, before the Patrol Admiral rose to her feet.
"I vote yes as well. This offer sounds too good to be true, but even if it turns out to be a trick of some kind, we have to try. A chance like this comes only once in a lifetime, and I for one, will grab it with both hands," she said, and finally all eyes were on the Free Admiral.
"We would be putting our trust in an unknown force, one that reached out to our enemies before ourselves, is that really the route you all desire to take?" he asked at last.
"It isn't without it's risks, I'll be the first to admit that, but at this point, our choices are a slow death, or taking that gamble. I for one, would rather brave the risk, then allow our people to just vanish from the face of the galaxy," said the Heavy Admiral, and the Free looked into her faceplate.
"This vote must be unanimous, otherwise there might be some doubt in our people with this. I want it noted, by all four of you, that this decision goes against my better judgment, but I see no reason to divide our people. I vote yes," he said after several minutes of silence.
"With that matter settled, let us get Amalgam back in here. We have details to work out," said Vai'Gerrel, and gave an order into her omnitool. Twenty-four hours later, after paring down the list of volunteers from four-hundred-thousand to only ten, a small fleet of ships were let go from the Flotilla, joining with the Terran ships, and vanishing in a flash of light, to start a new life on a world that they had not seen in three centuries.