Liara T'Soni.
The recording from Omega, showing the Collectors gathering Covenant races, ended. The Matriarchs looked at each other.
"This is... unusual," one of them noted, with purple skin and pale orange patterns. "We believed the Collectors' capabilities were somewhat lower. They have never before demonstrated the simultaneous presence of such forces. And their effectiveness against the Covenant... I admit, Liara, this is worse than could be expected."
"Collectors, hm," the second agreed. "Another problem. Definitely now. You did well, delivering these proofs. The Council thanks you for the work done, Liara T'Soni."
They looked at each other.
"Your status as heir and partner of the Council is also not subject to discussion. This information is a valuable confirmation of the established, undoubtedly complex, situation," the first one said.
"We are glad that Benezia's daughter, after her extremely tragic death, will continue her work. And in time, perhaps, you will be able to take a place among us. Remember this and do not stop on your path, young Liara," the second finished.
Despite the information passed to them through the Shadow Broker's channels, they still had doubts, yeah. I believe it. And this isn't a performance at all, aimed at reminding who makes the decisions and who reports on execution. I'll venture a guess that I, as they believe, an inexperienced Maiden, am not supposed to know more. I understand this; it's not the first time. I might be Benezia's daughter, but I'm not even two hundred years old for the Matriarchs to consider me an equal. This too can be used. In the end, they really are the power here, so I'll play the fool before them. So, to bow, folding hands on the chest, and say with all respect:
"Well, I felt these recordings were important enough to deliver to you as soon as possible. Thank you for the trust shown, Councilors. I will continue to fulfill my obligations to our house and to you."
The new head of my mother's faction in the Council nodded regally and waved an open hand palm up, on which a short purple flash of Biotics flared. All according to the rules, all according to ceremony.
"You did everything right, Liara, have no doubt. The situation is indeed complex; the Council needs all the information we can possibly get. Naturally, we will compensate your expenses for the Shadow Broker's services. The news lately has been more and more alarming. Thanks to people like you, we are kept informed of events."
And now another ceremonial bow, relevant since the pre-space era.
"Thank you for that, honored ones."
The Matriarchs laughed.
"Now, now, Liara, we aren't that old."
And the second added:
"We found something interesting in the recordings from the SSV Normandy. A mention of the Raloi race. Are you familiar with them?"
I nodded.
"An avian-descended race living on the edge of Asari space. Currently, they are in a pre-space era and won't launch even simple satellites for decades. Like the Yahg, if left alone. Does this mean the Citadel has decided to change its policy on the lesser races?"
The purple Matriarch shook her head.
"Not just us. The Salarians are known for their pragmatism. And according to the latest data, they have entered into contact with the Yahg. The Turians have contacted the Elcor, using, again, the recordings from the SSV Normandy. And they've taken up developing a line of heavy armor for them, offering a place as heavy infantry alongside the Volus. You already know about the Humans and their secondary tailed race. Their most famous personality, by the way, was seen on Omega in the company of Nakmor Drack, the head of Clan Nakmor, who left Tuchanka. Now we know exactly where and with whom. Also on Omega, according to images provided by the Shadow Broker, at least one Drell assassin was spotted. And while there is no information yet that the Drell are acting against the Citadel, the tendency is alarming."
The second continued:
"The races of the Orion Arm are splitting the already not-so-united galaxy. Citadel Space and the rest of the galaxy, though not particularly close, were in balance. Now, the Humans and their opponents, the Covenant, are trying to pull all their neighbors into their war. Successfully, I might add. If the Republic wants to remain a force to be reckoned with, we need arguments and supporters. Even among the lesser races who will support our course. Do you understand?"
I nodded, understanding where this was going.
"It seems that on the occasion of war, everyone is gathering allies. But the Raloi, what use are they? I know, I am no warrior. But Elcor, Yahg—those are obvious heavy infantry, since the Krogan are unavailable. Considering the Covenant races, I see the sense in this. But the Raloi? What is our interest in them?"
The Matriarchs nodded.
"There are reasons, of course. Including the Turian Hierarchy's interest in the Raloi. A ship of theirs was spotted by our tracking station. They haven't landed yet, but the fact remains. We believe the Hierarchy will try to finance the Raloi's technological growth, engage in progressivism to gain more technological and combat power. For the sake of the Citadel, of course."
I frowned, as I knew nothing about this.
"And what do they need?"
"Rocket infantry," explained the previously silent warrior-Matriarch, pureblood but with a scarred face. "As we've discovered, some of the Covenant's vehicles and troops are effectively hit from the air. Plus, the Covenant uses flying Yanme'e. Extremely numerous and dangerous for infantry. Flying Raloi mercenaries could help solve this problem. It's faster than forming and training new units, supplying them with fuel and complex equipment, and training them. The reality is that a Covenant attack on our worlds could begin at any moment. We need more resources, much more than we have now. And the Covenant knows this, turning its attention to races that have nothing to oppose them with, but which would ease the situation for us. An attack on logistics and production."
The first one took the floor again.
"Liara T'Soni, you have done an excellent job gathering information, finding weak points on Omega, and reporting them. We will send you to the tracking station so you can provide our diplomatic group with information support. The negotiations will be conducted by professional diplomats, of course. Your task is to give them the tools to work with. If successful, you can count on even greater support from our side. Is everything clear?"
The situation. The war is quickly gaining momentum, touching more and more worlds and races. The Matriarchs' position is also clear; they are speaking of it in plain text. If the Raloi agree to cooperate with the Republic, you'll get access to their world. A small one, but you'll get it. Considering the world is pre-space, you could rise immeasurably by selling them information and technology, even if it's a fraction of a percent of the total market, but with corporate permission. The offer is tempting. And here's another question.
"I understand. I'll do everything I can. I have one more question."
"We're listening."
I bowed slightly again.
"Matriarchs, I was asked to inquire about the Humans and cooperation with them. Given the recent news."
The purple Matriarch smiled.
"The problems of the Quarians and Batarians are only their problems. Neither of these races is part of Citadel Space. And I am quite certain that the destroyed Mass Relay is named 'Alpha.' The Quarians are a pity, of course. But that isn't important either. Although the Humans should have been more careful with creating their image on the galactic stage. It complicates everything."
Well, I'll ask the obvious question.
"But what is important then, if not such destruction and so many deaths, O Matriarchs?"
The warrior clicked a recording into play. On it, the Migrant Fleet is visible, with flashes appearing inside and a ship marker with an image. It's a super-dreadnought; the combined strain of all the Turians' strength (using thermonuclear warheads) was only enough to briefly damage its shields, under which was impressive armor that was never breached. The ship successfully restored its shields and fought back, continuing to hang in Palaven's orbit until the very end of that battle. Smaller ships could be overwhelmed by numbers, but not this one. It was as if... It had withstood far more than Sovereign did in its time. And didn't even take damage!
And on the recording, such a ship is inside the Quarian formation; destroyed ships are flashing around it. The recording is clearly accelerated and markers are visible. Thirty ships. Fifty. Ninety. One hundred thirty-five. One hundred eighty. It just flies and guts the Civilian Fleet around it. I've read about this, but to hear and see it like this... It's monstrous.
"This is a recording of the battle with the Migrant Fleet," I voiced the obvious. "But this ship was not mentioned. This is simply monstrous. A slaughter. Goddess..."
Well, I'll maintain the official version. I am officially an information broker, not the Shadow Broker, and I shouldn't know about this.
"True," the Matriarchs agreed, "but that doesn't mean Citadel intelligence didn't find out. Look."
The playback continued; the ship continued to mow down the Quarians at the same speed. And then the fleet is traced by a cone of light. The number of destroyed ships in that sector immediately jumped from hundreds to thousands. But most importantly, when the light dissipated, the image zoomed in. And the ship was no longer there. Amid the multicolored, shimmering, and flashing storm of energy, there was no silhouette. None at all. It makes the whole body tighten. What power... Which we could have built ourselves. As the Quarian admiral said. Perhaps if we had such a weapon against the Reapers...
The warrior-Matriarch stopped the recording and said:
"That is what matters. The Republic must obtain this weapon. There can be no doubt that right now both the Dalatresses and the Primarch of the Hierarchy are saying the same thing. We need this weapon. Especially if the Quarians are right and it can be quickly produced with our technologies. She who can bring a sample can ask for anything. Truly, anything. A weapon against the Covenant. New Krogan Rebellions. And then the Reapers. Whoever obtains it will take a place in galactic history. Naturally, you aren't the only one who knows about this, Liara. But we, the Council of Matriarchs, are giving you such a chance."
Well, that's obvious. But they were quite impressed by this idea.
"So, don't give the Raloi to the Turians and look for arguments for a deal with the Humans. I understand. I suppose I should get to work."
The Matriarchs smiled.
"Go, Liara. It is a pleasure to see such a smart and discerning Maiden doing so much for the Republic. We will follow your successes."
Yes, yes, yes. It's time for us to go. With a bow, I left.
***
So, the home planet of the raloi, Turvess. A garden world with low gravity, about a quarter of standard. Thanks to this fact and the extremely dense, food-rich jungles, the raloi developed the ability to fly. Additionally, they are shorter than all the Citadel races, standing only one and a half meters tall. They live up to two hundred years; presumably, with modern medicine, they will be able to live even longer.
As it turned out, after the arrival of the SSV Normandy and the study of records, the asari had taken notice of the planet, placed a hidden research base near it, and were quietly studying the locals from space. At the very least, they wanted to avoid a repeat of the history with the yahg.
In case you didn't know, the yahg, realizing that the Council Races had arrived on their world not to voluntarily surrender themselves into slavery to a "superior race," tore the delegation to pieces as a warning. Literally, to pieces. And they broadcasted live what would happen to "inferior races" who did not wish to serve voluntarily. Therefore, what the salarians did to them doesn't move me at all.
This also means that even though I traveled most of the way working on the Shadow Throne, I will have to descend to the planet on a regular ship. The same applies to the monitoring station where our expedition resides.
Of course, the descent is still a long way off. First, we docked at the station, and I went to the base commandant, an asari Matron. Her blue face was covered in green patterns, and dressed in a lab coat, the Matron offered me a seat.
"Greetings, Dr. T'Soni. I am Dr. Taraya N'Malok, head of the base and the research group."
I nodded, sitting down opposite her.
"Greetings, Dr. N'Malok. Please accept the data," I said, and transferred the information from my Omni-tool.
The scientist read for a while, then remarked:
"Unexpected. Is there a reason for the haste? We assumed contact wouldn't be foreseen in the near future. After all, the raloi are not very developed. They are simply not ready."
Of course, the order had been hacked, and I knew what was in it. So no, the doctor didn't need to know everything. Only what was already specified in her order from the Council of Matriarchs.
"I am unaware of that. Only the order and the requirement to fulfill it."
She looked at me questioningly, but seemed to believe it.
"Very well," the scientist nodded, "then we should notify our neighbors that guests will be arriving. You're lucky; we spent time, among other things, compiling a phrasebook for the main languages of the planet—there are five of them. I will send you everything for review. I hope you don't intend to land without preparation?"
I nodded.
"No, of course not. We need a result, not just action. My job is only to gather information for the diplomatic group, nothing more."
Besides, I'll be able to attend to my own affairs while we prepare for contact. After all, I hadn't expected the Matriarchs to require a planetary landing. And no, officially, I won't be the one making contact; a diplomatic group will arrive at the station for that. My role is only the preparation of the contact. Many difficulties, but many opportunities as well. Likely, they will also be evaluating how I make use of them.
Taking the first step is quite simple: set up the translator and connect to their communications, which we are successfully eavesdropping on.
Not immediately, though; first, I need to study the information. And not just the language, but at least some of the customs. While we are coordinating the official contact, it is extremely important to be polite so that the other side understands us correctly. It is very easy to start a feud by accidentally insulting them. And who needs that? Plus, I just need to check the locals' readiness for contact. Only then will the real diplomacy begin. Perhaps even in contrast to an inexperienced me in these matters. I'm almost certain that's the idea.
So ahead of me lay another long, complex preparation and paperwork. On the other hand, I still have my terminal, so I can afford to work as an information broker and prepare for communication with the raloi in parallel. Meanwhile, the science group is scouting for the best options for communication.
The raloi themselves don't know about us and continue living their lives. Relatively peaceful, in their cities with a global population of about two billion. They are currently undergoing a technological revolution—coal and steel, smoking furnaces and factories. Interestingly, it's a fairly peaceful planet, although half of the raloi live in a thin layer among the numerous forests and jungles, uniting around several well-developed centers. If the technological level of these industrial centers is boosted, they will be the ones spreading knowledge across the entire planet.
There is almost no agriculture; it's simply not needed. The planet is generous with a wide variety of life forms, so gathering is enough for the natives to supply small towns; for the cities, there are orchards with trees tens of meters high and numerous creatures living on them that feed on each other. The world might be peaceful, but it's quite harsh in that regard. It's no wonder the raloi took a liking to Krogan sports.
The raloi themselves are the proud owners of six limbs, standing one and a half meters tall, two of which are wings with a span of several meters; some have a full flexible tail or a feathered one like a bird's. The color of the feathers and their presence on the body (some are fully covered in feathers, while others have only a down-covered torso) varies across a wide range. Seriously, there are raloi of the most exotic colors. I'm sure they will be popular among the Batarians. I'll need to warn the raloi about that.
Their morals and traditions, as far as we've been able to understand, are quite wild and aggressive. But there's nothing special about that—a civilization in the early technological era, the standard of living hasn't risen enough yet. Still, the world isn't so aggressive that the civilization behaves like the Krogan. No, according to all forecasts, in a few generations, their harshness bordering on cruelty will fade away (city dwellers are already much calmer), but for now, their less developed representatives could be used against the Covenant as well. We just need to reach an agreement.
And then there's more and more data. Population, languages, cultural peculiarities, ideas, favorite shows and food, relations between genders, cities, and wild settlements. But I did it; I studied everything, drawing maps and making notes.
Finally, everything was ready for the first communication session. I had intentionally stalled for time until I cleared the paperwork, business, and Shadow Broker affairs, finally. Now, if I have to stay on the planet, it won't be such a problem. Unfortunately, nothing has been resolved regarding the Humans yet, but I will keep trying. For now—the raloi.
"Let's establish a connection," I suggested to the operator, an asari from the expedition.
She nodded. We spent some time deciding exactly who we wanted to contact and chose their central communications tower in one of the cities. Primitive radio communication, nothing difficult for our systems.
"Alright, beginning, Doctor."
First, there was the noise of interference, then a clicking, high-pitched voice. Excellent, the translator is working.
"—The interference has cleared. What was that, Far-Hearer?"
"I don't know, High-Listener. But we are receiving a signal. Clear. A powerful signal. From somewhere. Are the Screamers-in-the-Silence amusing themselves?"
So, my cue.
"I believe I am to blame for that. Greetings."
Silence fell on the line, and then the first clicking voice asked:
"Who is 'I'? Your voice is heard in the silence, but its meaning cannot be grasped."
An interesting question.
"A representative of the Asari Republics, Liara T'Soni. We have been watching you from space."
Clicks erupted in the speakers; I assume it was laughter.
"Sounds plausible, I believe it. Don't joke like that, fledgling; this is a working line. Come to the tower, we'll teach you, since you managed to connect. You have potential, you know how to joke."
Expected, so I asked the operator:
"Is the Kodiak Shuttle launched?"
She nodded. Excellent, we can continue.
"How about stepping out onto the balcony and seeing exactly what is flying toward you?"
"And what exactly are we supposed to see there?" the voice asked. The intonations were unfamiliar, but if the translator was right, it was doubt.
"A ship, of course. A flying one. Look up and you will see. It's not that hard, right? And if it doesn't arrive, I'll come to you myself."
It took about ten minutes for confirmation. Then the connection spoke with a third voice:
"This is High-Flier of the Equestria Oversight Wing. Who are you? What do you want?"
Now, this sounds like the one in charge.
"Our galactic civilization has discovered intelligent life on your world. We have been studying you, and now we have decided to make contact. I am the appointed representative of my people who will conduct the preparation for the official meeting of our peoples in the future."
There was a short silence on the other end, then the clicking voice of the commander replied:
"Understood. I must consult the Soarers-in-the-Blue, pass your words to them, Speaker-Among-Nests. And the flying house will be useful as proof. Can it arrive again?"
Well, easy so far. Though it was easy with the yahg too, until they understood the situation.
"Quite possible. But only to show; there is no talk of transferring control. But I am not the official negotiator. My task is only to prepare the meeting. I suggest meeting outside the city to avoid attracting attention and to discuss the situation."
"A good thought. But what if your diseases are dangerous to us? You should not fly close to the cities."
I agree with that.
"In space, our diseases do not survive. As for the planet, purification systems installed in the airlocks of our, ahem, flying houses will be used. And we ourselves will wear environmental suits. It is an important part of contact to collect bacterial samples to avoid diseases or allergic reactions, should they occur. It would not be good if, instead of negotiations, one or both delegations fell ill."
Three quick clicks followed.
"Reasonable things, Speaker-Among-Nests. But not today. Now, while the light illuminates the path, I must contact the Soarers-in-the-Blue of Equestria. Can we use the same frequencies for communication in the future?"
"Yes, certainly."
And the bird disconnected. I turned to the operator and the commandant.
"Well, how was I?"
The operator gave a thumbs up, and the commandant nodded.
"Actually, we've already studied their atmosphere and viruses as much as possible. But everything was done correctly; in other latitudes, all of this will differ. So first communication, a meeting with all safety precautions, coordination, and only then official contact. That's how it's written in the rules."
I laughed.
"Well, this is my first such contact with another race."
The scientist nodded.
"I think no one has such specialists for contact with new races at all. No, the Republic has worked out contacts with other races, but you know yourself how many there were in total. So they choose from whoever is available."
I frowned.
"And what are you implying?"
But the Matron only smiled.
"If you think I'm talking about your age, then no. I'm not a professional in the matter of contact myself. I was offered a promotion instead of teaching. I've been sitting at this station for two years, listening to transmissions, compiling dictionaries. I'm a linguist, after all; the maiden operator is just a technician. I had to learn on the fly. And now we are preparing First Contact with a new race. So I'm speaking for myself too, young T'Soni," she said the last part with a smirk, and I responded with a smile.
"Forgive me, it's just that communicating with Matriarchs becomes a habit."
The elder asari snorted.
"I think many would wish to be in your place."
I shrugged.
"I hardly communicate with other maidens, so I don't know. But the elders expect me to be no worse than them. It's not easy, but I have experience."
The scientist nodded.
"I don't doubt it. Now, let's get to the preparation."
Preparation includes refueling the Kodiak Shuttle. Inside the ship is a sterilization system for environmental suits, exactly what is needed for planetary descent. If we bring an epidemic to the planet, it will be bad for everyone; besides, the locals will clearly be against those who caused such a thing. One of the important actions during contact is the work of a medical team that will help the new race and the contactors cope with such issues.
And then there's the alignment of traditions and language. All the things they've been doing at the station all this time. But now we can engage directly in preparation for contact and agreements.
As a meeting place, the raloi chose an airship hovering outside the city. Painted purple (the color of the uniform) with the emblem of the state of Equestria, our Kodiak Shuttle hovered near the vessel, and the three of us jumped aboard. There were also three raloi there, all in purple hazmat suits. The suits were interesting—stretched tight in the front with a beak, and very loose and baggy in the back.
Probably for the wings, and to keep the feathers from breaking. After all, feathers aren't skin; they need to be looked after.
"Speaker-Among-Nests, is that you?" asked one of the suit-wearers. Underneath them, it was impossible to determine who was inside.
I nodded.
"I am Liara T'Soni, representative of the Asari Republics. Beside me is Taraya N'Malok, a scientist," there was no need to introduce the soldier.
The bird bowed.
"I am Taat, Predator-Seeker. To the left stands Nta, Speaker-Among-Nests. So, the songs did not lie; the winds have brought the scents of new lands. And you have descended from the celestial perches of other worlds. But what do you want from the raloi?"
A click sounded; Nta stepped forward.
"Do not rush, Taat. Though he asks the right questions, the search for an enemy leads them to the idea of locking themselves in a nest atop the highest of crags, polishing weapons."
Paranoid, then. I understand.
"I can speak to that. First, we have been watching you."
"Why?" Taat immediately interjected, but in their culture, this is normal.
If you don't react, it means you agree. If you don't agree, you must interrupt.
"There are other races we have made contact with. One of them killed our delegation when they refused to submit to them like objects. Therefore, before speaking, we find out if both sides are ready to listen. Plus, we need to identify diseases, develop vaccines, and resolve organizational issues. Everything must go as it should."
A series of quiet clicks came from Taat's side.
"And yet you flew to us, not the other way around. Why?"
Now the difficulties begin.
"The Asari Republics prefer to reach agreements with those who live near our colonies. We can give much to each other. We can help."
Negotiations will take time. But after all, the diplomacy of the Asari Republics has always been the strongest. While I prepare the ground, I will look for agents to work on the ground. So that the raloi join the Republic. And then the question of involving them in the war with the Covenant, and possibly the Humans, will arise. This is an important task that will greatly help me rise in the eyes of the Matriarchs. I must not make a mistake. Not this time.
***
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