And there was one more significant consideration.
“The files make mention of an unknown piece of alien technology discovered out beyond the borders of Citadel Space,” Goyle informed them.
“What kind of technology?” the salarian wanted to know.
“We don’t know,” she admitted. “Obviously it has some connection to synthetic intelligence, but beyond that Qian was intentionally vague about the details. From his notes, it is clear he believes it was far more advanced than anything developed by any current species.”
“Is it Prothean?” the asari asked.
“Not according to Qian’s notes. Again, we don’t have many details. But there is some indication the doctor thought it could be used in connection with the geth.”
“The geth?” the salarian asked quickly. “In what way?”
“It’s not clear. Maybe he thinks it will enable him to communicate with them somehow. Maybe even control them. We just don’t have enough information to know for sure. But we believe this technology poses a legitimate threat. Not just to the Alliance, but to the entire galaxy.”
“And you believe whoever attacked Sidon now possesses this technology?” the salarian asked.
“Possibly,” she said, somewhat hesitantly. “It doesn’t appear it was ever actually at Sidon. Qian’s notes are a bit…erratic.”
“Are you saying he was mentally unbalanced?” the asari asked.
“There is some evidence of that, yes.”
“Are we certain this technology even exists?” the salarian wanted to know. “Or are we chasing the delusions of a madman?”
“If it does exist,” she warned them, “we can’t take the risk of ignoring this.”
“We need to find the people responsible for the attack,” the turian agreed. “Before they unleash this on the galaxy!”
“You should begin with Edan Had’dah. A batarian from Camala. Lieutenant David Anderson, the man we sent to investigate this matter, believes he was behind the attacks. Your own people can confirm this when we send you the files.”
There was a brief pause and the holographs momentarily shut down as the councillors held a brief conference.
“We will forward this information to the Spectre investigating this matter,” the salarian informed her once they were done.
“The Council is grateful to you for bringing this to our attention,” the asari said.
“The Alliance has no wish to be at odds with the Council,” Goyle explained. “We are still new to the galactic scene, but we are eager to show our willingness to cooperate and coexist with the other species of the Citadel.”
She could see from their expressions that she had won them over to her side. Now it was time to strike.
“Kahlee Sanders, the researcher who escaped Sidon, is in hiding on Camala right now,” she continued, moving without pausing from supplication to an appeal she knew they would grant. “We have reason to believe her life is in danger as long as she remains on that world.
“The Alliance would like to arrange for one of our ships to touch down on Camala somewhere outside the spaceports to pick her up and bring her to safety.”
“That is a reasonable request,” the turian said after a moment’s consideration. “The Council can make arrangements with batarian authorities to permit this.”
“There is one more request I would make of the Council,” Ambassador Goyle added, employing one of the most basic, yet most effective, tactics of negotiation: little yes, big yes. Getting someone to agree to a minor concession established a tone of agreement and cooperation. It made it more likely they would be receptive to larger issues.
“Lieutenant Anderson, the Alliance operative who brought Edan’s involvement to light, is also on Camala.”
“You wish to have him evacuated as well?” the salarian guessed.
“Actually, we would like him to accompany your Spectre when he goes after Edan Had’dah.”
“Why?” the asari asked. Goyle couldn’t tell if she was suspicious or merely curious.
“Several reasons,” the ambassador admitted. “We think Dr. Qian may still be alive. If he is captured, we would like him to be extradited to the Alliance to stand trial for his role in the murder of our people at Sidon.
“And we see this as a learning opportunity for Lieutenant Anderson. The reputation of the Spectres is well known; they are representatives of the Council, the guardians of Citadel Space. Working with your agent will help the lieutenant better understand the methods Spectres employ to defend interstellar peace and stability.”
She hesitated briefly before continuing, taking a moment to precisely form her next argument. This request had the potential to backfire, but it was the whole purpose of this audience. And it was likely the councillors were thinking it themselves already.
“We are also hoping your agent can evaluate Lieutenant Anderson’s performance on the mission. If he does well, perhaps he can be considered as a candidate for the Spectres himself.”
“Admitting someone to the Spectres is a long and involved process,” the turian protested. “Individuals must prove themselves through years of exemplary military or law enforcement service before they can even be considered for the honor.”
“Lieutenant Anderson has served in the Alliance military for nearly a decade,” the ambassador assured them. “He has completed our N7 elite special operations program, and won numerous citations, medals, and honors of distinction in the line of duty. I can easily make his records available to the Council.”
“Candidates must undergo a rigorous screening process,” the salarian explained, raising another objection. “Background checks, psychological evaluations, and a prolonged period of mentorship and field training are typically involved.”
“I am not asking that you admit him to the Spectres,” the ambassador clarified. “Only that you allow him to accompany Saren on his mission, and judge him based on his performance to see if he has the potential.”
“Your species is still new to the galaxy,” the asari told her, finally addressing the issue they were all dancing around. Officially, Spectres could come from any species. But almost invariably they were only chosen from the Council races.
The bias was perfectly understandable: giving individuals of a species direct access to the Council, along with the authority to act outside the bounds of galactic law when necessary, attached a perceived importance to that individual’s species. Allowing a human into the Spectres would send a message to the rest of the galaxy that the Council considered humans on a par with the turians, salarians, and asari. That wasn’t far removed from the truth, which was exactly why Ambassador Goyle was pushing for this now.
“Many species have been part of the Citadel for centuries, yet have never had a Spectre drawn from their ranks,” the asari continued. “Granting this request may cause resentment among them.”
“Just as I’m sure there was resentment among them when the turians were added to the Council,” Ambassador Goyle countered.
“Those were exceptional circumstances,” the salarian interjected, offering up a defense on behalf of the turian councillor. “The turians were instrumental in ending the Krogan Rebellions. Billions of lives were saved.”
And they had a fleet almost as large as the asari and salarians put together, Goyle silently added.
Out loud she said, “At our last meeting you told me humanity had to be willing to sacrifice for the sake of others. I could have bargained for this concession with the information from Sidon, but I chose to give that to you freely for the greater good. Now I am offering you the aid of one of the Alliance’s top soldiers to end a threat we may have unwittingly helped create.
“All I ask in return is that you consider the lieutenant as a possible candidate for the Spectres.”
There was no immediate response from the Council. The ambassador realized they were still leery of her because of her actions at the last meeting. But there was a time for brinksmanship and a time for acqui
escence. She had to show them the Alliance was willing to work both sides of that fence.
“I make no demands here. I’m not asking you to promise or commit to anything. I believe this experience will benefit Lieutenant Anderson and the Alliance. I believe it will strengthen humanity’s bond with the rest of the Citadel. And I truly believe it will give us a better understanding of the duties and responsibilities we owe to the greater galactic community.
“However, if you refuse this request I will willingly accept the wisdom of your decision.”
She expected the Council to confer once again to discuss her proposal. However, to her surprise, the asari simply gave her a warm smile.
“You have made your point, Ambassador. We will grant your request.”
“Thank you, Councillor,” Goyle replied. She was caught off guard by the sudden acceptance, but she did her best not to reveal how much she had been taken aback.
“This meeting of the Council is adjourned,” the asari said, and the Council rose from their seats and disappeared down the stairs of their platform.
Goyle turned and made the long walk down from the top of the Petitioner’s Stage, frowning. She had studied every decision made by the Council in the last five centuries in detail. In every case they had acted unilaterally. If there was ever any dissension, they would debate the issue until a mutual accord could be reached.
So how was it possible for the asari councillor to decide on her own to grant this request?
As she reached the elevator and stepped inside, the explanation finally popped into her head. Somehow they had anticipated her request before she’d even broached the subject. They must have known where she was leading them, and discussed it during the brief conference after she had mentioned Edan Had’dah. They had already decided how they would respond long before she ever brought the subject up.
Ambassador Goyle had thought she was in control, driving the negotiations to manipulate the Council to her best advantage, like she had at the previous meeting. She’d caught them off guard last time, but this time they’d been ready for her. They were the ones who’d been in control, walking her through the script like actors in a play, knowing the final outcome all along. And only in the final moment of the scene had they tipped their hand, a subtle revelation of the truth they must have known she would pick up on.
Riding down in the elevator, Ambassador Goyle tried to take solace in the knowledge that she had gotten exactly what she’d wanted out of the meeting. But she wasn’t used to being outmaneuvered, and she couldn’t help wondering if she had made a mistake.
Why had the Council been so eager to grant her request? Did they really think humanity was ready for this? Or were they expecting Anderson to fail, then hoping to use that failure as an excuse to hold the Alliance back?
If nothing else, the experience had given her a whole new respect for the Council and their understanding of negotiations and diplomacy. She considered herself a student of politics, and now she was very aware she had just been schooled at the feet of the masters.
They’d sent her an unmistakable message: they knew how to play this game as well as she. Whatever advantage the Alliance might have had in dealing with the Council, it was gone. The next time she had to face them, the ambassador realized, she’d be constantly second-guessing herself. No matter how prepared or careful she was, in the back of her mind there’d be that lingering uncertainty: was she leading the negotiations, or being led?
And she had no doubt that this was exactly what the Council wanted.
EIGHTEEN
“We’re almost there, Lieutenant Sanders,” the driver told her, shouting to be heard above the engine of the six-wheeled armored personnel carrier as it bounced along the hard-packed desert sand outside Hatre. “Just a few more klicks to the rendezvous site.”
In addition to the driver, five other Alliance marines rode in the APC with her; a security detail pulled together at the last minute to protect her until she was off world. She and the driver sat up front, the rest of the crew were huddled together in the back. Four of the marines had already been on Camala when the orders came, the other two had arrived from Elysium the previous night in response to the instructions issued from Alliance HQ.
Their vehicle was batarian, loaned to the Alliance by local authorities at the “request” of the Council. It was all part of the deal the ambassador had worked out to get her safely off Camala and back to Alliance territory.
The engine whined as they climbed one of the immense sand dunes that stretched across the landscape out beyond the horizon toward the setting sun. In another twenty minutes it would be dark, but by then she’d already be aboard the Alliance frigate coming to pick her up.
“I’m surprised the batarians agreed to this,” the driver shouted again, making conversation. “They don’t normally authorize landings outside the spaceports. Especially not for Alliance vessels.”
She understood his curiosity. He knew something big was going on, but his orders were simply to drive her out to the pickup. He had no way of knowing about her connection to Sidon, and nobody had told him about the shady backroom deals Ambassador Goyle must have made with the Council to make this happen. Kahlee stayed silent: she sure as hell wasn’t about to fill him in.
She wondered how much the Alliance had given up in exchange for this concession. What kind of bargain had they struck? Anderson probably had some idea, but he had barely said a dozen words to her in the two days following her admission in the hotel room.
Not that she blamed him. He’d trusted her and she’d used him, at least in his eyes. Kahlee knew all too well how much betrayal could sting. And now she was being whisked off to some unknown location for her protection, while Anderson was staying behind on Camala to try and hunt down Dr. Qian.
She thought a lot about trying to contact him again after all this was over. At first she’d been drawn to him out of need: she was scared and alone, and she had needed someone to cling to besides a gruff, prickly father whom she barely knew. But even though they’d only been together a few days, she got the sense that there was a chance they could have become more than just friends.
Unfortunately, she doubted he’d want anything more to do with her now. Not after how she’d hurt him. The realization that she’d probably never see him again hit her harder than she would have expected.
“Hang on, ma’am!” the driver suddenly called out, startling her from her maudlin thoughts as he wrenched the wheel and veered them sharply off course, nearly flipping the vehicle in the process. “We’ve got company!”
From his perch on a rocky outcropping several kilometers away, Saren could just make out, against the glare of the setting sun, the silhouette of the APC carrying First Lieutenant Kahlee Sanders.
When he’d received the mission update from the Citadel Council yesterday he’d gone through the full spectrum of emotions. He began with outrage. They were ordering him to work with a human! And all because the Council felt it necessary to reward the Alliance for sharing information about the investigation into Sidon. Information Saren had already managed to figure out on his own!
He knew Edan Had’dah was behind the attack. But because he’d kept that information from the Council, he had to pretend to be grateful to the Alliance for handing it over to him. Now he had to allow one of the humans to work with him as he completed the mission. And not just any human, but that damnable Lieutenant Anderson, who kept interfering with his investigation.
But as he’d continued reading the update, his anger gave way to curiosity. He’d known about the batarian’s involvement, but not about the extraordinary alien technology referenced in the files recovered from Sidon. Though there were few details, it seemed as if the artifact could be a relic dating all the way back to the Prothean extinction.
Saren had always been intrigued by the sudden and unexplained disappearance of the Protheans. What kind of unimaginable string of events, what kind of catastrophic occurrence, could cause an empire that spanned
the known galaxy to vanish in less than a century? Virtually all traces of the Protheans had been wiped out; only the mass relays and Citadel survived, the enduring legacy of a once great people.
Hundreds of explanations had been put forward, yet these were all nothing but theories and speculation. The truth about the Prothean extinction was still a mystery…and this ancient alien technology could be one of the keys to unraveling it.
From what he could piece together from Qian’s research notes, he suspected they had found some type of ship or orbiting space station. One with AI capabilities to self-monitor and even repair all its vital systems without the need for organic caretakers like the keepers back on the Citadel.
Delving deeper, it seemed the doctor believed the discovery could one day be used to forge an alliance with the geth…or possibly even control them. The implications were staggering: a massive army of synthetics, billions of troops whose absolute loyalty could be assured if one could somehow understand and influence their AI thought processes.
Then, as he’d continued reading the file even further, his curiosity had transformed into cold, calculating satisfaction. Once he had learned the name of his quarry, the hardest part of his mission became locating Edan. He was probably cowering like an insect, burrowed into an underground bunker beneath one of the countless refineries spread across a thousand square kilometers of rock and sand. Ferreting him out was going to be a long, grueling, time-consuming process.
Or it would have been if he hadn’t received the mission update from the Council. Included in the transmission were the details of the plan to evacuate Lieutenant Sanders from the world. Saren knew that Skarr was still on Camala; he’d had no reports of the big krogan being sighted at the spaceports. He was probably holed up with Edan.
And Edan had hired Skarr to kill the young woman. Saren knew enough about batarian culture to realize Edan wouldn’t want to lose face by hiring someone who failed in their appointed task. If the opportunity presented itself, he’d send Skarr after Sanders again.