Chapter 5: The art of compromise
John Smith... The name suited him just fine.
It was perfect for someone who had started in intelligence and later transferred to the Alliance's diplomatic service. He wasn't the most gifted orator, nor did he have a special charm; no - his talent was in something else.
Smith was methodical, reserved, collected, and practical enough to bargain with the Volusians, a phenomenon in itself.
And so, by the age of forty, Smith suddenly realised that he had achieved everything by and large. And he had another half-century of methodical routine work ahead of him in negotiating contracts and the movement of resources and technology between the Citadel races and the Alliance.
He'd put a bullet in his skull if he were a little less restrained. The reason - boredom... No, not that - lack of growth.
Humanity was past the War of First Contact, and that was it. There was no more spirit of exploration or discovery. Diplomats no longer made treaties after hard-fought wars, standing in the middle of a just-ended battlefield. Ambassadors no longer walked into the unknown, building bridges between Civilisations.
If he had been a little more romantic, he would have written a poem about the lack of adventurous spirit in today's dull times.
So when the "Breakthrough" happened - as this emergency was called in the internal correspondence - Smith submitted a petition for a trip in advance.
He had attached a list of reasons why he should be chosen. Of course, there were also certain informal gifts to some superiors, but such trifles are not worth mentioning ...
Ahead was an incredibly new task - to "build bridges" with a hitherto unknown Civilisation!
True, the reality turned out to be somewhat different from expectations...
***
Three weeks before the Whiskey arrived on the Citadel.
Helghan, Pyrrhus City, Skolar Visari's office.
- Firstly, I apologise for such harsh actions. However, they were necessary. - Smith's awakening was not as harsh as the Lieutenant's but unpleasant.
The diplomat found himself sitting in a dark but comfortably furnished office. And that was already a plus.
"It's not an interrogation room; it's not bad."
- And secondly, please help yourselves. - Sitting in the darkness, the office owner waved his hand to the table, where there was an ancient metal teapot and two cups and saucers.
- Emperor Skolar Vizari, I presume? - Smith decided to "keep a straight face."
- You assume correctly. - Outwardly, the speaker didn't look particularly impressive. An older man with bruises from lack of sleep under his eyes. Bald as a knee. He wore clothes that looked like a strict three-piece suit from the twentieth or early twenty-first century. The usual clothes of officials and businessmen of that time.
The Emperor did not look particularly impressive: he looked like a tired old man just doing his job. His movements were very economical and precise: Visari kindly poured the hot drink from the teapot into cups.
Smith politely took a cup and took a small sip: it tasted like the mint tea he'd had on Earth. Quite a good mint tea, it should be noted.....
"How old is he? Seventy or so, but life expectancy on Helghan is much lower than on Alliance planets. Anderson overestimated him, overrated him."
- Mr Visari, do you realise that the seizure of a diplomatic mission, especially one so brazen, will not go unanswered? - Smith decided to go on the offensive.
"Let's try to apply pressure - see what a 'powerful old man' you are..."
- Mr Smith, do you realise I'm not an idiot? - Visari smiled meaningfully from behind his cup of tea.
- What do you mean?
- The Alliance will do everything possible to prevent the Helghan embassy from appearing on the Citadel. That much is obvious. - Visari sipped his tea once more with an unpleasant squelching sound.
"Are you trying to piss me off with your boorish behaviour? Well, well, good luck..."
A man who constantly interacts with Donnell Udina in the line of duty is not easily angered.
- Honestly, with all due respect, your actions seem like those of a paranoid...
- You don't know me. And you can't genuinely respect me - don't bother with diplomatic etiquette. - Suddenly, there's metal in that quiet voice. - And another thing, I'm not paranoid. Well, at least not any more than any other major politician.
There was silence.
- So you can explain your actions...?
- Say, mister - you use that term, "mister", don't you?
Smith nodded. The conversation was beginning to intrigue him. In his experience, such conversations - florid and seemingly "about nothing" - were made before a bribery attempt.
"If he decides to slip me a wad of money - though it's more likely to be a case of platinum - I'll be upset.
- Now, I'm not wrong in saying that your instructions induced me to join the Alliance with the further gradual transformation of Helghan into another colony.
"They couldn't crack the cipher. Not so fast..."
- Don't look at me like that - I'd do the same thing if I were Alliance Command. I'm not judging you, as you can see, but I want to convey a simple message to the Alliance - Helghan belongs to the Helghast.
- I daresay independence comes at a price, Your Imperial.....
- Leave it. - Visari sipped his tea thoughtfully once more. - We speak here now as two serious men in authority. And titles are for those outside the authority and help them understand...
And actually - my official title sounds like "autarch" and has a deeper meaning than just "emperor".
- So, are you suggesting something? - Smith was beginning to get bored with this incomprehensible spectacle.
- Specifically the Alliance, I propose a defensive alliance and mutual aid in emergencies - like shipwrecks or natural disasters. Plus - potentially stationing parts of our armed forces in several key locations. Transport would be from the Alliance, and soldiers would be ours.
They'll be a 'rapid response team', and I guarantee they won't retreat even in the event of a fight with regular units of the Batarian Hegemony.
"Sounds good... Very good. Securing the colonies, covering them, showing that the Alliance cares about them, freeing up Alliance forces in the area for other operations - it's a good option..."
The pages of a school textbook on the Krogan Rebellion appeared before the diplomat's eyes.
"...or not so much. You'd have to share technology with them and teach them how to deal with mass effect, and that's not good."
- An offer... Hmm... generous. But...
- But that's only one option. - With a smirk, Visari stretched out. The old man's appearance changed dramatically: his smile became predatory, and the dim light of the lamp played on his slightly crooked front teeth.
- The second option is that I will NOT enter such a treaty. Accordingly, the Alliance, in addition to the Batarians, gets a second source of headaches.
- You w-what? - Smith hiccupped in surprise. - Threatening the Alliance? He'd never stand for that!
- Me? Threatening? No, you're not! It's just that Alliance ships lose the right to pass through MY star system. - The Visari emphasised the word "my".
- Oh, yeah? What's next? Are you're gonna sit in isolation and face the Batarians alone?
- Well, we're not used to isolation. Helgan is self-sufficient. Of course, we'll have to tighten our belts.
- You're not afraid of popular unrest? - Smith asked wryly.
- No. Think of it as a perk of absolutism. - Visari smiled serenely. - 'Besides, the Batarians will first be confronted by YOUR colonies further out in the Scylian Limit.
"What the... He can't!"
However, the whole look of the damned old man said, "I can, I can, I sure can!"
- It would be VERY sad if the Hegemony, sensing such an arrangement, decided to stage a second Skillian Blitz.
Outwardly, Smith remained unperturbed, but a chill ran down his spine. The damn Helghast had extracted bits of information from his conversations with Anderson, and he'd made the most of them.
- So far, your offer is not unlike blackmail. - Smith began in a mentor's tone. - And I, as a representative of the Alliance, will not tolerate this kind of treatment and attitude towards the Alliance...
- I wouldn't tolerate it either. - Visari interrupted him. - What would happen if someone came up with a way to at least partially replace the Repeaters?
***
The office assigned to the ambassador was rather ascetic by Alliance standards. A desk made of a dark wood-like material, a chair upholstered in a dark, soft material, and a lamp. On the table was a stack of clean but dirty grey paper and writing implements: Ambassador Smith thought it was some kind of joke at first, but no - the Helghast assigned to him confirmed that the ambassador was asked to make all notes by hand, without technical devices.
"Stone Age... It's unlikely they'll provide me with an information terminal, though. I wouldn't provide one."
Like most good diplomats, Smith had started out in intelligence and had a knack for timing.
His gut told him that the odds were not in his favour.
- Are you sure? - Smith liked Vega for his openness and sincerity, but now those qualities irritated him slightly.
James was not without reason, though: his first assignment as a diplomatic bodyguard, and he was unconscious for more than twenty-four hours while his commander, superior, and object of defence were left to fend for himself.
"Although I'm angry for nothing: young, hot, first acts and then thinks. In short, a paratrooper."
- I'm not sure of anything on this planet, Lieutenant. But for now, we're in no danger - if they wanted to execute us, they would have. - John Smith, Alliance diplomat and on this mission, the commander of Vega, rubbed his eyes tiredly.
- What are they thinking, sir? - Vega mentally sighed. Nicky was a talented technician and should have done technical reconnaissance during the diplomatic mission: to study local technology discreetly and to assess equipment and communications.
But right now, all his equipment was somewhere in the labs of Visari Corp, being studied by specialists. So Nicky felt useless and used "sir" twice as much as usual.
Nicholas Elias Jason was almost a parody of the technicians in popular culture: thin, wearing glasses, with a permanently distracted expression. Except that Vega knew that in an emergency Nicky was lightning fast, his technique was God-like, and in hand-to-hand combat, he could leave his opponent without teeth.
At least, that was the result in one alley on Earth when some truly strange and alternatively gifted individuals decided to shock an Alliance officer, deceived by his intelligent appearance and glasses.
However, the situation now was not extreme but simply incomprehensible. The discharge that sent the delegation to Morpheus seriously disrupted every negotiation protocol.
- I've spoken to their head of state, Emperor Skolar Vizari...
- Doesn't he look like a black-robed old man with a hood over his head? - Vega allowed himself a joke. In his spare time, the Lieutenant liked to play sports and watch old sci-fi films.
- An old man, yes. But I haven't noticed any signs of marasmus in him; on the contrary - his sentences and actions are strangely logical. - Replied the diplomat.
- Does he want to join the Alliance on favourable terms? - Nicky surmised.
- Almost... - Smith sighed tiredly. - All he did was kindly ask not to do anything stupid and to take a delegation of diplomats to the Citadel for the opening of the embassy...
- Shit! - Such an action went against all previous instructions.
- And the right to join the Alliance as a free member. With a seat on the Alliance Council and the right to veto Alliance Council decisions.
- ?!...
***
Citadel.
Now.
- It's a pleasure to welcome you to the Citadel! Your visit is a great surprise to the entire Council. - Tevos smiled as diplomatically as possible.
The Helghast ambassador, dressed in their planet's distinctive dark-coloured suit and stand-up collar, returned the greeting:
- On behalf of the Helghan Empire, Emperor Skolar Vizari and the people of Helghan - thank you for your kind words. However, I am here to deal with matters of urgency.
- Where did you get this ship? I'm sorry I didn't catch your name...
- I didn't say it. Vitaly Kurtz. - Helghast stood upright, heels together, toes apart.
Slim, wiry, dark clothes, some kind of plaque. Either awards or insignia.
On his feet, leather boots! Tevos couldn't believe her eyes at first. Still, instrumentation connected to sensors in the floor confirmed that the Helghast had used natural materials to create the details of his clothing.
Moreover, at the limit of hearing, a slightly audible metallic clanking could be discerned...
"Is that what he's got? Spurs? Or what's it called... A horseshoe on his shoe?"
She was trying to remember the exact name of the things people put on their shoes.
On a belt behind the ambassador's back hung a round metal pouch that looked like a thermos. Sensors told her inside was a protective mask, like the one the guards wore, but a lighter version.
"Why carry that thing around?"
There's no hair on his head, but there are scars like someone had tried to scalp Kurtz. It was unclear how old he looked, and even Tevos, who was used to talking to people, could only determine his age roughly. Thirty to forty - but judging by the eyes, deep-set and studying, the second option was closer to reality.
"Military. And in their society, the army and power structures decide very much...
That's just the human variant of the turians the galaxy lacked for happiness!"
This conversation was taking place in Tevos' office. The ship on which the unexpected guests had arrived was at the Citadel dock - and apart from Ambassador Helghan and his two guards, no one had disembarked.
The same guards were keeping the same people inside. Three were patrolling the dock, and two more were at the airlock. How many soldiers were on the ship itself was unknown.
Tevos glanced at the ambassador's bodyguards, who stood as if casually to control both Tevos and the entrance to the office.
Massive armour, silenced helmets and hoses extending to the chest armour plate: old systems, reliable but rather uncomfortable compared to modern respirators and force fields.
Armed with something that resembles the Alliance's "Hoe" when laced with steroids: rifles of monstrous calibre, more suited to krogan than human.
The shoes are the same boots, but the material is simpler.
And long grey cloaks, obviously not made of ordinary cloth: Tevos smelled a slightly pungent chemical odour. It was not unpleasant, but it was strong for modern polymer materials.
- The Alliance had graciously provided the ship Whiskey after a polite request from Emperor Visari. - At this point, the Helghast's voice faintly trembled, and a shadow of a smile flitted across his face.
"Looks like the request was persistent..."
- As a matter of fact, my goal is to organise a Helghan embassy on the Citadel and establish trade relations.
- That's fine. However, I wonder if the Alliance...''
- The Alliance won't mind. We have a representative on board. And with very high authority. - Helghast didn't let Tevos finish.
- Is that so? - By all predictions, the Alliance shouldn't have made concessions of this magnitude. - I was under the impression that the Skillian Limit was entirely the domain of the Alliance. Am I wrong?
- We're close to a compromise.
Diplomacy and espionage are inseparable. So now Tevos tried to drill the Helghast standing before her with her gaze. At one time - specifically, while serving in the Azari troopers - it had worked with most subordinates. They'd start making eye contact and trying to get off the subject, but it didn't work here.
Helghast stared back at her equally unapologetically. With a kind of exploratory interest, like a zoo animal.
"Something's not right here..."
It made Tevos somewhat angry - to come so brazenly into the Citadel without warning!
"An embassy should be opened. At the very least - to exchange information, those are the rules. But we can't let it go down with impunity, either - there's no telling what that Emperor will decide! He'll decide it's okay to open the door with his foot, just like at home..."
After a moment, the azari's face brightened with a genuine smile:
- "I can't give you a room for the embassy right now. It requires certain procedures, especially since you arrived so unexpectedly. It may take a long period, up to six months...
- I understand, but...
- But I have an option, which is much less convenient, but will help you establish a dialogue with the Alliance. Some embassies have less staff than they represent, and these premises are empty. Real estate on the Citadel is extremely expensive, but renting the premises of diplomatic missions to businessmen is hardly acceptable.
- Of course! - The Helghast supported her enthusiastically.
- But if another ambassador were to occupy the premises, it would be perfectly legal! - Tevos finished.
- Well, good! There is still the matter of...
- The embassy living quarters are a level down. Three rooms, you'll be fine. Again, the guards will have access to the SSC barracks - there are vacancies there for such cases. Can you please? - The ambassador's guards looked at each other and nodded synchronously.
- Well... The pressing issues have been resolved. Tomorrow I would like to present the Council with trade offers from the Empire. - Vitaly decided that it was time to call it a day.
Especially since... It felt like Tevos had outplayed him.
Kurtz's gut told him something was wrong: the azhari was smiling as if she had just played him for a fool.
Meanwhile, the Azari typed a combination of holographic keys on the instrumentation:
- Yes... Good day to you, Mr Udina. Is your spare office available right now?
***
- Gladly, sincerely glad! Donnel Udina, Alliance Ambassador to the Citadel! - Kurtz shook his outstretched hand. He didn't like Udina's handshake - what's with the whole finger shake? And shaking her hand as if in a fit of tremors?
"Tevos decided to scare me with an unpleasant neighbour? Really?"
- Ambassador of the Helghan Empire, Vitaly Kurtz. Your colleague and somewhat of a neighbour.
- Yes, I've already been informed. Please follow me. - The Citadel Express was a test of Kurtz's vestibular system.
Both of his guards were troopers and were used to the constant change of position in space, but for Vitaly, the realisation that the Council's skyscraper was, in fact, the centre of a gigantic structure rotating in space and that the position of the horizon was, very, very arbitrary, was a great discomfort.
"It's okay - I'll get used to it..."
Below and to the left and right were the "petals" of the Citadel. It was strange to see the picture of the glowing lines of the streets going upwards, shimmering with a bright golden glow.
"Beautiful. Absolutely - beautiful. I wonder if tomorrow's reception will do any good."
- ...The Alliance is pleased that you have reached the Citadel. However...
"The Azari, it must be admitted, look interesting. Very much so..."
- ...and this ship is assigned to the Diplomatic Corps.....
"Perhaps we build bridges with the turians. They have a rigid hierarchy and a clear power pyramid, so you can handle them. Plus, if they have a serious army, we could start cooperation in armaments. Although the Alliance is unlikely to be happy..."
- ...what is the fate of Ambassador Smith and his entourage? - The last question finally brought Kurtz out of his contemplative state. Helghast mentally chastised himself as Udina asked the question again:
- Where are the ambassadors...
- On board. Would you like to see them?
- Yes, I would like to see them.
- Please send transports to the Whiskey to pick up the diplomats and station my guards at the SBC barracks mentioned by Counsellor Tevos.
***
A short time later.
Citadel news.
The unexpected arrival of a new embassy in the Citadel came as a surprise to most political analysts. The Systems Alliance had secured the delivery of Helghan Empire embassy personnel to the Citadel. According to some reports, the Helghast ambassador (the self-name of the Helgan people) works literally next door to the Alliance ambassador.
A Volus appeared on the screen, wearing a garish black spacesuit with golden inserts. An inscription in the corner of the screen announced that he was one Dir Krilek, a political observer and expert in Alliance politics.
- Good afternoon, Mr Krilek!
- Greetings. - The spacesuit was clearly distinguished not only by its colourful design but also by its serious electronic "stuffing": the traditional loud breathing of the Volus was slightly noticeable, and the voice sounded "realistic" without the traditional noise from the speakers.
- You are a recognised expert. A historian who has written three books on Earth's history, as well as many more on the period of the Turian Hierarchy's Unification War. Tell me, what is your opinion of the situation?
- Well... The situation is certainly interesting. And paradoxical. We have a human planet that virtually came out of nowhere and refuses to recognise Alliance authority. I may have gone down the rare path of a Volusian writer, but I'm still a Volusian, hehe...
I am certain that the parties have agreed to cooperate, for trade is the lifeblood of nations.
- So Helghan is going to join the Alliance?
- Not a fact, far from it. Extreme little is known about Helghan itself, which makes the political situation unpredictable...
***
Two weeks after the opening of the Helgan embassy.
Earth. Alliance Command Centre.
Admiral Hackett's office.
- What do you think? How'd it go? Not too badly banged up?
- No, sir. - Vega was embarrassed. Nicky wanted to fall through the ground at the realisation that such a high authority was around.
- Don't stretch. Not on parade. At ease. - Hackett stood up from his desk and stretched his neck, crunching his vertebrae loudly.
- Sir, the report.
- I read your report. - Hackett stopped Vega. - However, now I would like to hear from you: your impressions? I've already heard Smith's. Now I'd like to hear what the military has to say.
- I'm interested in your opinion too. - Jason fidgeted with his glasses, thought about it, and began to lay out the facts.
His high command had spurred the part of his brain responsible for acting in extreme situations.
- Well - they definitely have special services, and the fighters there are professional.
- And their equipment is good. - Vega added. - They knocked us out hard and with a guarantee. Shields didn't save us.
- Stop! Hackett stopped them. - Shields did not save - because the electric discharge was too powerful? Or was the weapon's principle of operation non-standard?
- Some kind of electro mine.
- So, a trap... And a psychological trick with a red ceremonial carpet. - The Admiral added ironically.
The military frowned.
- Next... What do you think of their level of technological development?
Nicky pondered for a moment after he answered:
- Uneven. They have force fields, I've seen them from afar, but I couldn't get close enough, and the equipment was confiscated from me. Later, they returned it - now they are checking it, and I would like to...
- We'll check for bugs and return it. - Hackett calmed him down. - Next.
- The rifles appear to be propelled. Large calibre. - Vega thought. - And they're fast and strong. Me and Hart, the red-eyed one who accompanied me, had a sparring session.
- И?
- It was a draw, but he's much lighter than me, and his punches are extremely powerful. Of course, maybe he's some unicum, but he's been modified.
- Maybe, maybe... - Nicky thoughtfully took off his glasses and began to twirl them in his hands. - I saw some medical equipment on the stands when we were in the museum. Models, of course.
- Biomodifications? It's getting worse by the hour..." Hackett grumbled.
In the Alliance territory, the problem of modifications was plausible. Sure, modern medicine allowed for the growth of artificial organs and limbs, but certain people purposely favoured artificial limbs and implants to enhance their combat capabilities.
The London Gang War, which had ended five years ago, was the most notable example: the battle had involved not only the stimulant- and implant-laden street thugs of yesterday but also a few highly professional mercenaries.
In twenty-four hours, over fifteen hundred dead bodies and five burnt-out houses!
When it comes to genetically engineered human beings, things get even worse. The Alliance has fought firmly and consistently against such research. Still, the Admiral needed to find out that Alliance scientists were not making another genetically modified creature in some nameless laboratory.
- All right, dismissed. - Looking at the downcast faces of the officers, Hackett decided to sweeten the pill. - And I want you to know that the mission didn't go according to plan, but I don't consider it a failure. And neither do you. Is that clear?
- Yes, sir!
Vega and Jason left the Admiral's office. He sat back in his chair, relaxed, and finally started a business.
He opened a document on the console of the information terminal. He began to use a special skill available only to those who had been in the political spheres long enough: the ability to persuade people using hooky official forms and statements...
The idea of a Defence Alliance with Helghan is a productive one. An exchange programme should be organised as soon as possible. An approximate number of cadets from each side - a hundred people from all military branches: atmospheric aviation, airborne, space fleet.
Separately, Helghan seeks to establish cooperation not only with the Alliance but also with the Citadel races.
I think it would be a good idea to allow one Helgan representative to join the assault team of the SR-1 Normandy (scheduled for commissioning in 2183) for the duration of the first campaign. The ship is being built jointly with the Turians, which in this case, is very convenient.
The list of requirements for the candidate is to hand over to the Helgan embassy.
After arrival on Earth, the candidate must pass a qualification exam and be enrolled in the assault team.
Note: it is unlikely that a specialist engineer will be sent to the assault team. His espionage activities will be less effective.
In this way, we will show our willingness to share the latest developments in shipbuilding, which may give an impetus to developing a technology exchange programme.
I'd also like to point out that Captain Anderson and his XO, Captain Shepard, have already been in contact with the Helghast. And while they are not diplomats, even such a small advantage is a fat plus."
Hackett leaned back in his chair, scratching his beard thoughtfully.
"Note: due to Helghan's harsh conditions, I advise recruiting people with experience surviving in unfavourable conditions..."
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