Mass Effect: First Contact (IC)

(OOC)

The room was quiet as the Councilors read over the disturbing reports coming in. All of the races’ councilors were in the room, gathered around the table in the center, their eyes darting across the holographic screens worriedly. They were in one of the most secure parts of the Presidium, with none others but themselves able to see or hear the meeting.

Eventually, the Salarian councilor, Esheel Bau, raised up her head to speak. “This is disturbing, very, very disturbing. The last time the Rachni attacked, they nearly took over the galaxy. We cannot let this happen.”

“Agreed, we have to take action.” Sparatus, the Turian representative, commented. He turned his attention back to the reports, staring at the files intently. “Shepard should never have let them live.” He said, almost muttering.

“Shepard did exactly what he should have done.” Councilor Hackett retorted. “We need to investigate, see how much of this is true.”

The Geth representative, who had been named Arbiter by its peers, brought up information on the Rachni from the Council archives on its omni-tool for reference, then quickly poured through much of the data. “I agree with this suggestion. Based on the most recent observations of the Rachni, it is illogical for them to take aggressive action against the Council. STG reports have not revealed any significant military expansion, and all communications with the Rachni have been peaceful since the war against the Old Machines.”

Esheel looked through files for a few moments, before putting forth a suggestion. “We could send STG teams to investigate, there are already several deployed in the area.”

“If the STG were unable to recognize this Rachni expansion, then what makes you believe they will be more successful on this task.” Urdnot Bakara, the Krogan Councilor, commented. “If this is true, then the Rachni are likely aware of their presence.”

The Asari Councilor, who had been silent up to this point, finally decided to speak up. “If I may, I believe I have a solution. This new initiative we have created, Artemis, I believe it would be perfect for this task. Its members are varied, with a wide array of skills. Most importantly, no one beyond us and upper level officials in our governments are aware of its existence.”

The Councilors were silent for a few moments, all considering the suggestion. It was a difficult decision, as war with the Rachni would certainly have dire ramifications. They needed to approach the situation delicately. “Yes…I think this will work.” Hackett said. “It will draw less attention than a Spectre assignment, so we can avoid the issue being in the public eye.”

Hackett looked across the other Councilors without a word, awaiting their responses. One by one, they all gave a silent nod, indicating their approval. Hackett nodded back, then activated his omni-tool. “I’ll make the call.”

Three Humans shuffled their way around the operations center of their frigate. Moving from terminal to terminal, checking all possible systems that the ship's AI did not have time to check. It was an incredibly menial task, for two war heroes and a young woman to carry out, scanning the entirety of the Terminus systems for all signs of unlawful activity. For the past ten years, these three humans had become vigilantes. Hunting down and eliminating the few pirates and mercenaries that still roamed the Terminus systems. Though they were few, the vigilantes were even fewer.

The room was dark, with naught but the bright blue galaxy map in the center of the room to illuminate it. But this a cold feeling of serenity to the ship's crew as they made small talk, all the while strenuously working away to rid the galaxy of the only threat that remained to peace. The ship's captain stood at approximately six feet tall, making him quite the towering figure to the young Italian woman who was crouched beside him fiddling with all manners of wires and plugs within the terminals of the operations room. His skin was a half-cast brown, due to his mother's Jamaican heritage and his father's British origins. He was strong and well built for a man who had been through so much, especially considering the fact his hair now started to grey.

"Attention crew. This vessel is being hailed for communications by an unknown source aboard the citadel. Would you like me to dismiss the call?" Came forth a voice from the ship's PA system, it's voice was a blend of both sine and square sound-waves, with it closely resembling a woman of Australian origin. The captain then looked over to the middle-aged woman at his right, whose hair was a dark brunette shade, with eyes of identical pigment. Her skin was fairly pale, due to extended periods of time operating in space.

"Charlotte, you're up." He said with a light laugh in his voice, smiling all the while.

"When are you going to start playing the politician Clarkey?" Charlotte responded to her long time friend, standing to her feet and pulling her hair behind her head. Her voice was more akin to that of an Asari than a Human. Wrapping it up with a small black hairband, tying it into a ponytail as she walked out of the room. She left through the door on the right side of the operations center, which allowed her to instantly enter the communications room. Which was fairly sized room, containing naught but a table and three leather lounge chairs. As well as an ashtray and of course the holographic image projector and speakers.

In a few moments a flicker of light filled the room, turning on then back off and repeating this action. This was due to a mass power fluctuation caused by damage sustained in a recent engagement with a Blood Pack cruiser. The woman reached into her right pocket and pulled out a packet of twenty sovereign branded cigarettes, wasting no time in removing the cellophane wrapper around the box. Quickly pulling a single cigarette from the packet and placing it between her lips, just as a life-sized projection of Councilor Hackett appeared in the room.

"Charlotte. Good to see you're still alive and kicking."

Avatar wandered through the crowded halls and corridors of a market district on the Kithoi Ward of the Citadel, observing its people intently, taking in its surroundings. Since the Citadel was essentially the first place in the galaxy to be restored after the Reaper war, Geth were no longer as numerous on the station as they were a few decades prior, but they were still common enough that no one considered it strange to see them walking through the station. The organics seemed to pay little attention to Avatar, but it was focused on them.

It had been given no task to complete, no assignment to fulfill. Avatar was simply waiting on the Citadel for its next mission to arrive, but in the meantime, it was doing something it wanted to do. Even after forty years of near-constant interaction with organics, it still managed to discover something new every time it stopped to observe them. Organic civilization seemed so paradoxical; it was quite obviously mired with inefficiency, and yet this galactic community was the one that stopped a cycle of galactic extinction a billion years in the making, a community that the Geth were now a part of. Avatar, like most Geth, wanted to discover what their purpose in the galaxy should be, and for Avatar, the way to attain that goal was to understand what made organics successful.

Avatar stopped for a moment next to a window looking out over the Citadel. With the sheer scope of the Citadel, coupled with the Widow nebulae, it was a sight many organics described as majestic. It did not possess the same emotional response as organics, but there was another aspect of the sight that Avatar could find a sort of meaning in: the Citadel fleet. The ships came from every Council race. Human ships flew alongside Batarian vessels, Quarian with Geth, Krogan with Turian, and so on. It was something many considered to be a symbol of galactic cooperation, an idea that Avatar found…pleasing.

" Yes I know that." Glesur said to the asari.

" Then why would give him what he asked for?" The asari Arla said.

" Because I still owed him a debt from virmire. You understand how turian honor works Arla, you better then anyone." Glesur responded back in sympathetic tone.

" Yes I guess I do don't I?" She let out a sigh." Before you do something like this again atleast consult me first. This is not just you're company now. I'm the CFO and COO now run these things by me."

" You're right I will next time. Glesur out." Glesur cut the comm link and walked over to his bar. His apartment on the Citadel had a bar which he always kept stocked. He tended to drink after doing business as he hated doing it. It was not something any turian enjoyed. Thats why he passed passed the CFO and COO position down to a asari businesswomen he met back on Omega before the reaper war. The company produced weapon parts for shuttles and fighter craft. It had been going fairly well as they had picked up a contract with the alliance to produce parts for them.

But none the less he continued to drink. The drinking made the voices go away aswell and that was what he asked for.

"Yeah, still breathing on my end." Charlotte replied to the Human councilor, giving a salute as she down in the room's central leather chair. Immediately after doing so, she propped both of her feet up on the steel table in front of her, reaching into the same pocket she had done to retrieve her cigarettes.

It was then, that she pulled forth a zippo lighter. Flicking it open with a shake of her wrist and sparking the flame with her thumb. The lighter itself was a work of art, with ebony casing that was trimmed at it's corners with gold. Charlotte's lighter alone cost more for her to purchase than Clarke had spent on his M-93 Hades Assault Rifle, something she teased him over every day. Before Hackett was able to speak, Charlotte brought the bright orange flame to the end of her cigarette. She sucked and then pushed with her lips, causing a fairly large ball of fire to erupt from the cigarette's end. With that, she opened up the left side of her mouth in order to exhale the thick grey cloud of smoke. Which quickly filled the room.

"What can I do for you sir?" Charlotte continued, commenting on the councilor's rather random opening of communications.

"What I need to discuss with you is best to remain unsaid over an unsecured channel. I want you to come here, to the Citadel. It's safer that way." The Human councilor replied, not letting an ounce of his intention be portrayed through their communication. It was something Steven Hackett had somehow become quickly acquainted to, the job of a politician. He was capable of keeping up his 'poker face'. No matter the situation.

"Alright. But if this is another job, I'm going to need some extra funding. The Legacy really did take a nasty hit against those Krogan, we're lucky to be talking right now." She explained, accepting Hackett's invitation to the Citadel. Her voice was soft and calm as she spoke, seeming to display no show of concern for the condition of her vessel. With good reason, for in her eyes the Legacy was the greatest ship Charlotte had ever stepped foot upon. Of course technologically there were other, superior vessels. But to her, the manner in which she was able to operate aboard the frigate was perfect. She boasted to be one of the fastest vessels in the Terminus Systems, as well as possessing formidable weapons systems.

"That can be arranged, just get here A.S.A.P. Hackett out."

As soon as there were no more words to be said, the comm room returned back to it's dark, silent state. With the only light emanating in the room being that of Charlotte's cigarette. Clouds upon clouds of smoke began to fill the room, with the woman sitting it utter silence, occasionally flicking her excess ash into the ashtray upon the table in front of her. Once she had finished smoking, which took approximately five minutes. Charlotte rose to her feet and reentered the operations center.

"Clarkey. Plot a course for the Citadel. We have a meeting to attend."

"Come on, it's just a pistol!"

"Sir, I am afraid you will have to leave that behind too. No weapons are allowed on the Citadel, at least not on unauthorized staff."

Lieutenant Commander Terry Bradshaw couldn't ask for a worst day. He had arrived on the transport from Rio de Janeiro several hours ago for some much-needed downtime, and at the time had been confident that he would have a great time. He had only visited the Citadel a few times as a kid, and to see it from the shuttle's windows in its completely repaired state had been a fascinating experience.When the transport landed, he was still basking in the aftermath of the excitement. His mood couldn't have been better. Following the intensive training exercise he had participated in back at Rio, he just couldn't wait to get through customs.

Of course, good things never last.

The moment he approached the customs official, she had given him a terrified look. C-Sec was pulled into the case as well, treating him like he was a terrorist. And he didn't mind that. In fact, he could understand why someone in what was actually a mini-mech would trigger a few alarms. He accepted to remove his exoskeleton, leaving him in the rather thin undersuit worn underneath. He even understood that they made him relinquish his machinegun and anti-materiel rifle. But what he hadn't anticipated was that they were asking for his pistol too. Any other man would have just accepted the last term too and passed them the sidearm, but not this man. Not Terry. The pistol meant too much to him to be left in the care of someone else. It was his sidearm, his lucky charm. And so, he continued to plead with the Asari customs officer.

"Alright, you see that?" he asked her, pointing at the N7 colouring on his folded exoskeleton at the corner. When she shot him a dull look, he continued, his voice growing in intensity with every passing moment. "Alright, let me spell it out for you. I am an N7. Special Forces. N7s do not leave their sidearms behind, and certainly not this N7. The Alliance trusted me to take a damn anti-tank gun with me, can't you trust me to take a damn pistol?" He was by far taller than the Asari, standing at a little over six feet one, and his muscular build didn't help to mask him as a harmless civilian. The Asari on the other end of the counter looked down into her omnitool and then rephrased her last statement.

"Sir, there is nothing I can do, it's the law. Please, either turn over your weapon or leave the line, there's other people waiting."

Avatar was still observing the markets when it received a message on its omni-tool. The message ordered that Avatar attend a meeting in the Citadel Tower on the Presidium for an assignment, but it gave no details as to the nature of the assignment. It came directly from the Geth, as evidenced by the fact that it was pure data with no text, but strangely, it seemed to come from an individual program as opposed to the Geth consensus on Rannoch, where all of its assignments had originated thusfar. Specifically, it came from the program known as Arbiter, who acted as the Geth's representative on the Citadel Council, though in practice, Arbiter merely relayed all major decisions back to the consensus on Rannoch so the Geth as a whole could decide.

Avatar immediately set off toward the Citadel tower, but it found itself curious as to why this message had not been relayed through Rannoch. The Geth had given Arbiter the ability to make decisions alone if communication could not be established with the consensus, or if there was another circumstance preventing communication, but those circumstances were improbable.

The journey to the Citadel was relatively short, thanks to the wonders of the mass relays. Most of the Legacy's journey was spent in the Terminus systems due to the massive damage the ship had sustained. But after an hour journey from their current orbit around Omega, Charlotte and her team entered the mass relay's operational radius and were propelled into FTL speeds, heading for the Serpent Nebula.

It took seconds, if that even, for the Legacy to enter Citadel space. Upon arrival, Phobos began transmitting identification codes and all of the reasons why the frigate was docking at the station. When they were all checked out, they were told that they would not have to pay any form of fess for docking, or for repairs to the Legacy. Courtesy of the council. After a twenty minute drift from the relay, the Humans successfully docked onto Zakera ward. Immediately as they made their landing, the Legacy's doors were opened for Charlotte to leave. But suddenly, two teams of engineers burst into the ship and began repairing anything that looked even slightly scratched.

This instant intervention by the council made Charlotte chuckle as she bode farewell to her comrades. Leaving the deck of the vessel and stepping onto the Citadel for the first time in fifteen years.

"Just let me in, or I will let myself in."

Terry was sick of the waiting and the bureaucracy, and it painfully showed. The last statement was made in a way too threatening voice, enough to make the nearby security staff hold onto their firearms tightly. A small crowd of C-Sec officers had surrounded the customs office, not far from where the Legacy docked. The customs official had already sounded the silent alarm, and many of the civilians nearby had been pushed back to what was considered a 'safe distance' by Citadel Security. To any passer-by's, it would look more like the prelude to a riot rather than a single man trying to bend the rules, as he was used to. The soldier eyed the collection of policemen, giving the nearest one an angry glare; he was a Turian, holding one of the standard Avenger rifles. While Terry believed firmly in his skills in hand-to-hand combat, he wasn't willing to get himself shot: he would just let them stand there, waiting for someone high-up to finally pay attention and let him in.

"Sir, please vacate the area before we have to take you under arrest."

Arrest, now that sounded like a fine idea. Someone would listen if a decorated Marine was arrested, wouldn't they? He just had to try and not provoke them directly, lest he find himself on the receiving end of a stun baton... Or worse.

"Just let me take my gun in, and I will leave peacefully. There's no need for all you boys in blue to stand there."

Avatar took a shuttle from the wards to the Presidium, and from there, an elevator to the Citadel tower. Citadel Security maintained a much stronger presence in the tower than elsewhere in order to safeguard the Council, but even so, the officers tended to pay much less attention to Geth than organics, likely because there had not been a recorded case of a Geth causing intentional criminal damage to the Citadel or its people since the Reaper war.

From the message Avatar received, it would be attending a meeting between the Council and an unspecified number of other individuals, though for what purpose, it did not know. It seemed highly irregular that an individual Geth platform would be attending a meeting such as this. Since Geth could easily share information between one another, it would not normally be required for an individual program such as Avatar to be present. In a sense, Avatar was eager to discover the reasons behind these peculiar circumstances.

After downloading a map of the tower for reference, Avatar found its way to the designated room. There were three guards, two Turian and one Krogan, posted outside the room. As soon as Avatar approached, one of the Turians scanned the platform with his omni-tool. "Alright, you're cleared to go in." He said, opening the door.

Just before Avatar passed through the door, its platform was scanned again by advanced weapons detectors. The platform was unarmed, but the sensor still displayed a caution alarm due to the technologies present within it. The guards were alert for a moment, but stood down when the Asari Councilor, Tevos, motioned to them to allow it to pass. The room itself was simple, with only a large table in its center with holographic screens at each seat around it. As soon as Avatar entered, it opened direct digital communication with Arbiter, hoping to receive an explanation for the unusual circumstances surrounding the meeting.