The Ghost of Akuze II

They had commandeered one of the conference rooms in the embassy, typically used to host alien diplomats, as their base of operations. It was one of the few rooms in the entire compound large enough to accommodate the sheer amount of gear involved in the investigation. The military barracks, while practical, were far too cramped.

The room, once meant for diplomatic pleasantries and peace talks, now bore little resemblance to its original purpose. The long, polished table was buried under datapads, holoscreens, and weapons cases. There were pieces of evidence that had been bagged and tagged by C-Sec during their initial investigation, which had been transferred into their care. Half the chairs had been pushed to the corners, making room for hastily set up analysis stations, where they poured over security footage and forensic reports.

They discovered a few key points. The truck was a drone, which meant it was steered by a VI and not a physical driver. The protections over Embassy Row did not register any type of signal coming from, or going to, the truck. That meant it had been programmed with the human embassy location as its destination and left to its fate. It also meant the bomb had either been triggered by the gunfire or set to a timer, because no signal meant it was not remotely triggered. If the drone had gotten stuck somewhere or waylaid on its journey, the bomb could have gone off in a high traffic area. So in a way, they were lucky.

Then there was the residue. Most of it was made up of standard explosive compounds, things that any terrorist with half a brain and access to a black market could cobble together. Ammonium nitrate, percussive agents, binding compounds, nothing out of the ordinary. But there was something else, something rare. A mineral trace unique to a specific region of the galaxy. Unfortunately, the section was the Attican Traverse.

"That's great," Boomer exclaimed, sarcasm dripping from his voice, as they found out the results. "If we assume the explosives were made by the terrorist, and not just purchased from some shady dealer from the area, that just leaves us with the Batarian Hegemony, numerous independent human colonies that want nothing to do with the Systems Alliance, and, oh yeah, dozens of slavers, pirates, and mercs who'd kill their own mother for a payday. Really narrows down the list."

The worst part of it all, was that they did not find out anything that C-Sec's own investigation did not already learn.

Sun wasn't an expert in reading turian expressions, but she was fairly certain that Vakarian, the C-Sec liaison, had a smug look about him when they compared notes and came up empty. His mandibles twitched slightly, which she assumed was in amusement.

Veer, meanwhile, had no interest in subtlety. He crossed his arms and scowled. "We all know it was the batarians," he muttered, his voice thick with disdain. "They got their asses kicked at Torfan and are too big of pussies to come at us head-on anymore. Let's just bomb a couple of their outposts and call it a day."

Commander Lee shot him a sharp look, her frown deepening. "You know that's not how it works," she said, voice firm but controlled. "We don't act without proof. And we sure as hell don't escalate things without cause." She turned her attention to Vakarian, who had been slouching lazily in his seat but straightened up the moment he felt the Commander's eyes on him.

"Besides the Hegemony, does C-Sec have a list of anti-human organizations operating in Citadel space?" she asked.

"Of course," Garrus said with an easy shrug. "A couple dozen, at least." He paused as he caught the looks being exchanged around the table. "Don't be offended. Every species has a list, including the asari."

Boomer scoffed. "Who's anti-asari, they're so -," he noticed the raised eyebrows of both the Commander and Iravani, "blue," he trailed off weakly.

"Everyone's favorite color," Vakarian said dryly, his mandibles flexing in amusement.

Commander Lee didn't let the moment linger. "Is it possible to get C-Sec's files on every anti-human organization, no matter how small they might be?"

Vakarian leaned back slightly, tapping his chin in thought. His mandibles twitched again.

"I'd have to get captain approval," he admitted after a moment, "but I don't see why not."

"And has C-Sec been tracing the truck's route via the cameras?"

"We've had analysts and VIs combing through every public and government feed available since less than an hour after the attack," Vakarian replied, his tone clipped but professional. "They're piecing together the route taken, working backward from Embassy Row. So far, we've tracked it through several districts, but there are still gaps. We've also got surveillance warrants ready for any private cameras along the truck's path. As soon as we identify any relevant ones, their owners will be 'strongly encouraged' to cooperate."

Si-hyeon nodded, just barely betraying a hint of approval. This was her first experience with C-Sec in any capacity, let alone an official one. She did know from experience that human police investigations could be hit or miss, depending upon the personnel running the investigation. For all her skepticism about C-Sec's efficiency, they were at least being thorough. She looked over the conference table, where hours of hard work had been spent only to turn up nothing new from what C-Sec had already learned.

"Sergeant Vakarian," she continued, "do you mind if one of my men accompanies you to your office to retrieve the anti-human organization files?"

"Not at all, Commander." Vakarian pushed himself up from his chair and stretched his neck with a faint pop. "We can head out now."

"Iravani?"

"Ma'am?"

"Go with the Sergeant."

"Yes, ma'am."

The two left the conference room, making their way out of the building and toward the makeshift parking area on the basketball court. The skylot had filled up quickly after the attack, with skycars jammed haphazardly into any available space. C-Sec, military personnel, and emergency services had claimed most of the nearby landing pads, forcing any late arrivals to get creative with their parking.

Vakarian's squad car, a sleek, armored skycar painted in C-Sec's standard blue-and-white, sat wedged between two military shuttles, the basketball court's boundary lines barely visible beneath it. It wasn't like anyone was going to be playing a game anytime soon; the compound was on high alert, and every able-bodied officer and soldier had more pressing concerns than shooting hoops.

As the vehicle lifted off, the hum of its mass effect drive barely audible through the reinforced frame, Sun Iravani sat stiffly in the passenger seat, hands resting lightly on her thighs. The ride to the nearest C-Sec office wasn't far. It was located just below the embassy levels, nestled beneath the many bureaucratic offices that made up the political heart of Council space.

The silence between them stretched, but it wasn't exactly uncomfortable. It was more calculated.

Sun had never interacted much with aliens beyond the quarians during joint military exercises. Most of the others she had only seen on news vids, the first views of turian being during vids of the First Contact War. She had seen krogan from a distance, towering figures in heavy armor but despite almost a decade of working with a large krogan clan, they still weren't participants in military exercises. Even after all these years later it was still a struggle getting the krogan that the Systems Alliance worked with to following basic military command. Krogan often had a problem listening to humans and quarians because both species were smaller in stature, which to the krogan meant weaker. That often led to the krogan going off and doing what they thought best, which often involved charging enemies head on.

But turians? This was her first real one-on-one interaction.

She had plenty of questions. But they were not the kind that made for casual conversation. More scientific than social, her curiosity veered toward biology, history, and the structural evolution of militaristic societies. She could ask about the rigid discipline of the Hierarchy, about the way turian military doctrine seemed to mirror aspects of ancient Sparta and Rome. About how an entire species functioned when every single individual was conscripted for public service.

But somehow, she doubted Vakarian was in the mood for a deep philosophical discussion about his entire race in comparison to long dead human societies.

Instead, she settled on a different approach.

"C-Sec response time was fast," she noted, keeping her tone neutral. "Faster than I expected for an attack on the human embassy."

Vakarian's mandibles twitched slightly, whether in amusement or irritation, she wasn't sure.

"We don't play favorites," he said simply, eyes locked on the traffic lanes ahead. "A bomb goes off anywhere on the Citadel, and we respond. Doesn't matter who it's meant for."

Sun hummed in acknowledgment. She wasn't convinced. Politics had a way of shaping law enforcement priorities whether anyone admitted it or not, but she let the subject drop.

The skycar dipped lower, descending toward a section of the Presidium separated into multiple levels, each one with gleaming white facades. Below them were two levels with the dull blue paint job of C-Sec, along with fortified barricades and automatic turrets tracking their flight path. As they neared a landing pad, Sun stole another glance at Vakarian.

Maybe she'd save the deep questions for later.

The sheer number of datapads they left C-Sec with was staggering. It took both Iravani and Vakarian multiple trips to load them into the back of the C-Sec skycar, the growing pile looking more like the spoils of a supply raid than an intelligence haul. Each pad contained a dossier on an organization that had, at one point or another, expressed anti-human sentiments, no matter how minor or seemingly irrelevant.

C-Sec had been thorough. They had even included a file on Resounding Voices Against Humanity, a hanar only organization with exactly three known members. What in the hell could three hanars even do? Get their clothes damp?

When they finally returned to the embassy and stacked the datapads onto the conference table in a second conference room, since there was no space left in the one they had already commandeered, the reaction from the rest of the team was one of open disbelief.

"Either more people hate us than I thought, or C-Sec decided to take no chances," Veer muttered, staring at the precariously balanced tower of information.

"You don't expect us to read through all of these, do you?" Kamal asked, aghast. His eyes flicked between the towering pile of datapads and Commander Lee, hoping she would say no.

She did not say no.

They spent the next three days buried in intelligence files.

Each pad contained profiles, activity reports, intercepted communications, and suspected affiliations. Some were more detailed than others, depending on how serious C-Sec had deemed the group, but there was one clear takeaway amongst all the data, humanity had made a lot of enemies in a very short span of time.

Sun should have been astounded at the sheer amount of hate against humanity but instead she found herself increasingly disturbed as she scrolled through page after page of organizations she hadn't even considered as threats.

It was expected that batarians, vorcha, and, to a lesser extent, turians harbored resentment toward humanity. Outside of the wars fought between them, the ongoing one against the batarians and vorcha, and the First Contact War against the turians, there were political conflicts, historical grievances, and sheer territorial disputes that made them natural adversaries. But some of the species on these lists?

The elcor? How?

Humanity's interactions with the elcor had been minimal at best; mostly limited to trade negotiations and mutual economic interests. There had never been any conflict of any scale, no major ideological divide that she could recall. What possible reason could they have for hating humans?

And the volus?

That one baffled her even more. Humanity' advancement in virtual intelligence compared to the other races had revolutionized security and combat automation across the galaxy. It had allowed the volus to develop the Lethal Augmented Combat Infantry Mechs, LACI Mechs for short.

The LACI Mechs were a direct improvement on the Systems Alliance's own LOKI models. They were sleeker, more maneuverable, and, above all, smarter. Unlike their stiff predecessors, LACI units had rudimentary tactical programming. They could take cover under fire, reposition for better angles, and even anticipate movement patterns based on previous engagement data. They didn't just advance toward their intended target no matter how many bullets slammed into its shield.

The volus had relied heavily on the Turian Hierarchy for military protection, but the production of a hundred thousand LACI Mechs had allowed them to take a slightly more independent approach to defense, pulling back some of that reliance. Maybe there were some in the Vol Protectorate who did not like the shaking of the status quo that had existed for several hundred years? Because some volus only groups had still made this list.

Sun leaned back in her chair, rubbing at her temple as she scrolled through another dossier.

"Anything good?" Veer asked, glancing at her above the datapads he held in his hands.

"Define good," she muttered. "Because apparently, even species we barely interact with want to kill us."

Veer snorted. "Welcome to galactic politics."

She wasn't sure if it was politics or just the inevitable growing pains of a species expanding into a galaxy that had functioned without them for millennia. But one thing was clear, humanity had far more enemies than they had realized.

And somewhere in this pile of datapads, buried in a sea of names, allegiances, and grudges, was the answer to who had bombed the embassy.

They just had to find it.

If they could determine the why, the motivation behind the bombing, they could potentially narrow the field of suspects. Understanding who stood to gain the most from such an attack would be key. But after three days of combing through intelligence files, they were still drowning in possibilities.

By the time they reached the end of the third day, exhaustion had settled into their bones, and frustration was bubbling in the confines of the conference room. Between all of the stacks of datapads were empty coffee mugs and energy drinks. They had managed to rule out some groups based on membership and known tactics, but the list remained way too long for anyone's liking.

Hanar exclusive organizations had been removed from consideration at the recommendation of Vakarian. He explained that bombings were not the method of the hanar. If the hanar wanted to make a statement, they wouldn't waste time with crude explosives. They had the drell for that, assassins and saboteurs who could infiltrate and eliminate targets with precision. A truck bomb? That wasn't their style.

Vorcha-only groups had also been eliminated. While an explosive attack fit their violent tendencies, the planning required was well beyond them. It was a matter of intelligence and patience, which were two qualities the vorcha notoriously lacked.

Or, as Kamal had so succinctly put it: "The vorcha are too stupid to plan something this complicated."

That still left them with plenty of suspects.

The atmosphere in the room had shifted from hopeful analysis to frustration. Even with all the datapads, they felt no closer to finding a clear answer.

Vakarian had left a few hours ago, mumbling something about how they were more than welcome to keep banging their heads against the wall, but he was getting some sleep. Now, it was just the team, bathed in the glow of the various screens displaying reports and intelligence summaries.

Veer leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face before looking around at the others.

"How could it be anyone but the batarians?" he asked, circling back to his original argument.

Kamal groaned. "We've been over this. Just because it makes sense doesn't mean it's true."

Veer threw his hands up. "Oh, come on. Torfan humiliated them. They got booted from the Citadel. They hate us. They already fund terrorist cells and slavers. We've been dealing with more and more terrorist attacks over the years, and who's behind the majority of them?"

Before anyone could argue further, the conference room door slid open, and Ambassador Udina strode in, his presence immediately commanding attention. The team straightened instinctively, their fatigue momentarily forgotten.

Sun glanced at the clock on the wall and felt her eyebrows raise in surprise. Citadel time was different than Earth time but it was very late. She expected most of the compound to be asleep already. All except the guards who manned the walls and patrolled the courtyard.

Udina's expression was serious, and his voice carried a weight that silenced the room.

"Alliance Command thought it best to bring you in on some sensitive information. What I'm about to tell you is classified information," he said, his gaze sweeping across the room. "And I expect you all to treat it as such."

Commander Lee gave a sharp nod. "Of course, Ambassador." She shot a pointed look at the rest of the team; a silent keep your mouths shut or suffer the consequences.

Udina clasped his hands behind his back. "We're in negotiations with the Citadel Council for an alliance between the Systems Alliance, Migrant Fleet, and the Council."

A heavy silence followed.

Kamal blinked. "Wait, you mean we'd join the Council?"

"It's too early to say what this alliance would look like," Udina clarified. "Full membership would require us to adopt all of their laws, many of which we will not entertain."

Sun knew, like everyone else, that the biggest sticking point was the Council's banning of artificial intelligence. It was the main reason the Systems Alliance refused too join the Citadel races after the First Contact War ended.

The Council had a hard ban on AI, a law written into their charter after the geth rebellion nearly wiped out the quarians. The Systems Alliance, on the other hand, had embraced AI advancements. They weren't reckless about it, not like the quarians had been, but AI technology had embedded itself into their military, infrastructure, and even private sectors.

Sun thought about the countless AI systems that handled logistics, medical diagnostics, planetary surveys, and security measures. The idea of removing them? Of replacing them with less efficient VI systems? It would take years, maybe even decades, to wean humanity off that level of reliance.

"Personally," Ambassador Udina continued, "I don't think that Council likes that between us, the batarians, and the Terminus Systems, two-thirds of the galaxy it outside of their sphere of influence."

The Council liked control. They needed it. And humanity was an unpredictable factor. A wildcard in galactic politics that was rapidly expanding in influence and power. The Council likely saw an alliance as a way to contain them, while the Systems Alliance saw it as an opportunity to gain a more secure footing in Citadel space.

And the batarians?

If the Hegemony had caught wind of this deal, then a bombing made perfect sense. It would have been more than just killing humans, it would be a message; a warning.