2048

Heels clicked as the footfalls echoed down the hall. The bright lights reflected off the shiny tile, momentarily blinding the turian as he stalked towards the elevator.

The door sliding open, he depressed the button for the top floor, the main chambers. He leaned his body against the guardrail near the window as the platform ascended. The turian glanced behind him as the familiar structures of the Citadel slowly descended in his wake. He had seen this view several times to the point where it was all completely routine for him.

The elevator may have been moving at over a hundred miles an hour, but it still took at least two minutes for it to reach the turian's destination. There was not even a broadcast going on at this time, the always reliable announcer had evidently run out of things to say.

He endured another minute of the maddening silence before he could feel the elevator start to decelerate. With the doors sliding open, the turian quickly walked out of his glass prison and hung a right, entering a sparsely decorated foyer.

He rounded the next corner to find that the boardroom was already sealed. The session must have started by now. Flanking the doors were a pair of geth security guards, red in color, ever vigilant as they remained upright in a perfect posture.

Upon his approach, one of the geth swiveled its head to gaze at the turian directly.

"Councilor," the geth gave a nod. "They have already started. You may enter."

If the turian ever appeared skeptical about integrating the geth so far into society, that had all been allayed several years ago. The geth, once feared throughout the galaxy as harbingers of death and destruction, were suddenly revealed to harbor none of those qualities twenty-one years ago. Thanks to a reconnaissance mission to the geth's main base, the quarians had found out that the race of machines only were interested in their own survival and did not wish to enact any harm on other beings.

In light of this new knowledge, the geth slowly began to assimilate themselves into galactic society, proving that they did not need to be feared at all by anyone. The geth, at this point, now applied themselves into a wealth of different fields that proved to be prosperous for civilization as a whole. They were tireless as construction workers, perfunctory and reliable. They were capable in business, able to compute multiple different problems at a time. But most of all, they were effective as soldiers, ever vigilant and incorporated several new technologies for the different armies stationed across worlds.

Situated in front of the doors, the turian gave the geth a nod of acknowledgement (surprising even himself with the move) and opened the doors.

Seated around a small table were a salarian, an asari, and a quarian. A hologram of what appeared to be a space-like object sat in the middle. The turian quickly moved over and took his seat before clearing his throat.

"I apologize for the delay, Councilors. I had a prior engagement."

The salarian councilor nodded, "Understandable. We had only just begun our discussion."

The turian councilor leaned forward, arms in front on the table, "I haven't been to an emergency meeting in a while. If I might ask, what is the situation for which we are gathered here right now?"

"This," the quarian councilor waved a hand, gesturing to the hologram. "This is why we're here."

The object in the hologram looked crude to the turian councilor. It was a bare-bones design, uncovered struts were protruding out of the object. It looked like it was covered in tin foil in the middle and a huge radio dish sat atop the whole contraption.

The turian councilor shrugged, "And what exactly is the significance of this?"

"This…satellite," began the quarian councilor. "Was brought to the station four hours ago. We intercepted it after it cleared its originating system and was detected."

The asari councilor now intervened, "When the ship that detected it brought in on board, we began receiving several strange transmissions from an unknown source on a microwave burst." The asari brought up her omni-tool and the hologram of the object disappeared, replaced by a bevy of new images.

There were waves on a beach, a field of grain flowing in a breeze, a shot of a city skyline. There were several noises that accompanied it as well, voices. The voices all spoke several different languages that failed to comprehend with the people in the room, despite their translator programs. There was a hint of music, a shout of laughter, and an assortment of weird and wondrous creatures that now filled the screen.

The video over, the asari councilor turned to face the turian, "The object we recovered was a beacon. By altering its original course, we alerted whoever sent it to transmit the message that they had prepared."

The turian councilor cocked his head, "Where did the signal originate from?"

"The Local Cluster," the salarian councilor answered. "The planet Earth."

The turian breathed out, his mandibles drooping, "Humans."

"Precisely."

The turian gazed across the room, "What…what does this mean?"

The quarian councilor shook her head, "Humanity is growing restless. We gave them their taste of the stars too early, they were not ready for such an event. Because of our untimely intervention, they have only grown more eager to expand their borders. The purpose of this meeting is to determine whether we believe that they are truly ready."

"Ready?" the turian councilor was confused. "Ready for….spirits, you can't be serious!"

"Our options are severely limited at this point," the quarian councilor shrugged. "Humans will only grow to the point where we cannot contain them. When that day comes, it would be prudent to have them as an ally, not as an enemy."

"But…but did you forget what they did all those years ago? How many people they killed?" The turian councilor now pointed towards the salarian, "They killed one of your predecessors in cold blood! They would have murdered us as well! Not to mention the fact that humans were frequently killing your people-," the turian now addressed the quarian councilor. "-In part of a pact to their deity prior to that whole affair."

"Despite the fact that it was a human who saved us?" the quarian councilor admonished coolly. "And who was present for both events and saved several lives in the process?"

"One human cannot rectify the sins of many!"

"But he has proven himself to be pragmatic, resourceful, and loyal. If this is what one human can be like, don't you think that there could be others like him?"

"That is beside the point! I can't believe you're-"

"Enough," the asari councilor commanded. "Fighting over this point is irrelevant. We cannot ignore the humans any longer. We do not need them marching on our doorstep when we least expect them."

"What happened to placing a blockade on their system?" the turian snorted. "I thought that we had decided to do that to stop another massacre from occurring."

"It has been over twenty years," the asari councilor explained. "The humans have grown and will be able to match us technologically in this century, should they continue at their rate."

"Even more so if they miraculously find any prothean technology," the salarian councilor warned. "If that eventuality comes, then we could find humans mastering spaceflight within this decade."

"All the more reason for us to extend to them a formal offer. The humans are aware that they are not alone in this galaxy any more, they cannot pretend that they are the only ones."

"And if they attack again?" the turian councilor sighed. "What then?"

The quarian councilor entered, "I do not believe that they would risk the extermination of their entire race. Humans may have exhibited the qualities of primitivism and violence but they cannot argue blindly in the face of logic."

The turian councilor reclined back in his chair, caught up in indecision. He looked at the faces of his colleagues, it was clear that their minds were set. He weighed his options and knew that, even despite his misgivings, he really did have no choice in the matter. The Council needed to face this issue as soon as possible before it became a big problem.

"All right," he said. "How do you want to proceed?"

Earth

The rain fell in sheets on the landing platform, coating everything in a slick, wet layer. The blast from the helicopter's rotors didn't exactly help matters, as they blew an ongoing spray in all directions from the force of the rotations.

The CH-53K Super Stallion aircraft was implemented into the Marine Corps of the United State military forces in 2018. Built by Sikorsky, at its UTC plant, the Super Stallion was the most advanced helicopter in the world, capable of reaching new top speeds and lifting heavier loads for combat zones. It currently ran its engines, idling, as it sat atop the tall office building, waiting for its passengers.

From a doorway on the top, three figures emerged. Neither one carried an umbrella; they simply marched over to the waiting doors of the chopper and clambered in, shaking their arms to get rid of any excess fluid.

The pilot checked to see if his occupants were securely strapped in and gave the soldier in the gunnery position the "ok" signal. Both men signaled to the marshal outside, who twirled his left finger in the "dust off" motion. Pulling back the throttle, the Super Stallion gradually lifted off the building and into the cold, damp night.

One of the passengers, looking at his partners, checked to see if they were out of earshot before leaning across the aisle to speak, continuing a conversation they had paused prior to boarding the helicopter, "Team Encounter had a breakthrough the other night. Apparently one of its satellites was 'redirected.'"

One of the men snorted in a laugh, grey haired and balding, "I thought they had shelved Encounter in '04. Something like a 'waste of taxpayer dollars' was the reported line."

The original speaker resumed, "Congress brought it back up in '17, during First Contact when…'they' stopped by."

"Hmph. 'Quarians.' As if there weren't enough problems on this planet in the first place."

The third speaker sat in his original position, quietly looking out the window, observing the Washington D.C. skyline as the Super Stallion paved overhead. Reaching into his pocket, he fished out a cigarette and a lighter. Despite the nosedive the tobacco companies had taken in the last decade, the man still held an appreciation for the habit. Not bothering to ask if his colleagues minded, he flicked the silver lighter and a sudden burst flared and a sizzling sound was heard as the cigarette was lit. He exhaled slowly, trying to slow his thoughts as the other two continued to argue.

"That's precisely the point, though. The President enacted Encounter to search for more life once we knew that there were others out there."

"Even though Encounter yielded no viable results all the time it ran. The aliens came to us out of their own accord. The reports never mentioned that they knew about any interstellar signals that lead them here."

"Yet they somehow knew to come. But it's been over twenty years and…nothing. We haven't heard a single thing from any other alien since they just all up and left."

The grey haired man shrugged, "You think they had their reasons?"

"Must have. Otherwise they would never have left us with our dicks out. They never hid the fact that they were quite exposed to our culture."

"Media can be useful in some cases."

The third man now spoke, he had short hair, broad shoulders, and was spectacled. He was dressed in a sharp, expensive, but low-key suit. He had a low voice but enunciated clearly when he talked, "Get back on topic, gentlemen. Why exactly is the fact that one of our satellites was 'redirected' news?"

The first man leaned over, "Well, Mr. Speaker, in layman's terms it means that its original course was altered."

The spectacled man peered through a cloud of smoke, "So?"

"So…these probes don't just change course whenever they like. It was picked up and moved to another location."

"Why wasn't I informed of this?"

The grey haired man gulped, "The President gave the go-ahead for the Clean Slate-3 Probe to be launched in a small conference. It was off the public record and done in secrecy."

"Then how exactly are you aware of it?"

"Anyone can access records of the launch and mission parameters, just not the circumstances in which they were founded."

The spectacled man nodded, "Why did we launch this probe then?"

The first man now joined, "I believe to contact other alien races so that we can approach the topic of coexisting peacefully."

There was a laugh, "'Coexisting?' That, my friends, is an impossibility." He leaned forward, "If you want my opinion, this whole cloak and dagger shit that the President is pulling with NASA is just ludicrous. We are already aware of these beings' existence and what they are capable of."

He took a drag on his cigarette, "I was present for the Danbury Incident, gentlemen. I can tell you, after witnessing the carnage, I do not believe that we can live peacefully with these aliens. Our world was not ready for them then, it certainly isn't ready for them now. The fact of the matter is, when humanity was given such an opportunity, we squashed it when we failed to appropriately take the proper precautions. As a result, dozens of humans and quarians were killed. For the next five years, any further alien contact was staggered, most likely an aftereffect until, like you said, everyone left."

A jolt in the interior of the helicopter sent the three men airborne for a second as it started to descend. A quick glance out the window told them that their destination was only seconds away. The spectacled man looked back to see the two men seated across from him.

"When was the President planning on notifying me?"

"If he's smart, then tonight," the grey haired man offered.

The man nodded in satisfaction, "If he ever gets the chance to pull this off, he's going to work much harder than his unfortunate predecessor at being diplomatic with aliens."

"Got any tips for him?"

"I have a few. After I speak my mind about the whole affair, of course," he wiped his glasses with a small cloth as the helicopter slowly and perfectly touched down in front of the big white colored house that filled the view out the window.

For Her: Third Stage

From Rob: Oh, dear. I'm at it again.

I know I have maintained that I was going to stop after the last one. Truth be told, I don't know where I'm going to end this saga anymore. I'm just going to continue to write this and see what new ideas pop up and if I can manipulate them into more stories.

Updates will probably be in more irregular intervals but it will get finished. Count on that.

This is going to be fun.