I own neither Halo nor Mass Effect.

Reach – Epsilon Eridani System – 2612 CE

"Good morning, and welcome to another beautiful summer day in Raikos!" the radio blared with the perpetually-happy voice of the morning radio personality. "The sun is shining brightly today and we have a northeasterly wind coming it at a lovely fifteen kilometers an hour. It's the perfect day to take your kids to the beach folks, so pack up your swimsuits and get moving! This is Daniel Whitten with the—" SMACK! The voice was abruptly cut off when a hand reached out to roughly slam down on the radio. The hand was soon followed by its owner, a bleary-eyed man of African descent named David Anderson.

Anderson was a naval rear admiral in the United Nations Space Command, the governmental organization that served as humanity's scientific, exploratory, and martial arm. He was fifty-nine years old, though with modern medicine he could easily pass as someone fifteen years younger. Like many who joined the UNSC during his and the following generations, there was little of note in his military career except spearheading the exploration of several un-colonized systems, numerous routine patrols throughout the outermost colonies, and some notably high performance evaluations in combat exercises. This was because by the time he had joined and throughout his entire career, humanity had been in a rare period of peacetime.

Anderson went through his usual weekend morning routine: taking a shower to wash away the last lingering bit of exhaustion that still clung to him, brushing his teeth, and shaving the stubble that dotted his face. He prepared himself a bowl of cereal for breakfast and was just about to sit down to eat when his telephone rang. Wondering who would be calling him this early in the morning on a Saturday, Anderson grabbed the communicator and held it to his ear.

"Anderson speaking," he said simply.

"Rear Admiral Anderson, this is the office of Admiral Hackett calling," said the voice of a woman. Her voice carried a slight Hungarian accent, reflecting the dominant language of the colony. "I'm sorry to disturb your weekend, sir, but your presence is required at Újjáéledés Station at twelve-hundred hours." Anderson glanced at the clock; it currently read 08:37. It was less notice than he would have liked, but if he hurried, he would be able to make it to the space elevator with a couple of hours to spare.

"Understood, I'll be there," he eventually replied. After acknowledging his response, the woman hung up and left Anderson to hastily scarf down his now soggy breakfast before he put on his uniform and left his apartment to make his appointment. It was a Saturday, so the roads were fairly clear, but it still took almost an hour for him to drive to his destination, New Manassas.

New Manassas was the first city to be built on Reach after its surface had been destroyed via orbital bombardment in 2552. First established in 2585, the city was now one of Reach's several centers of travel and commerce. Millions of credits worth of cargo was shipped to and from the planet every day, as well as hundreds of troops and tourists arriving and departing. This was in no small part due to the space elevator that stood in the center of the city. An enormous column of rings and cables reaching into the sky, the space elevator has always stood as a shining monument to human ingenuity. At the peak of the cable, orbiting nearly 75,000 kilometers above the planet was the Újjáéledés Space Station.

As a high ranking officer, Anderson had priority passage onto the next military transport up the elevator. Because of the vast distance that the lift would have to travel, it would still take over an hour to reach Újjáéledés Station. The quality amenities that the UNSC saw fit to provide were cold, uncomfortable steel benches, several old magazines in various states of disrepair, and a vending machine that provided chips, cookies, and other assorted junk food while an adjacent machine provided soft drinks. It was hardly luxurious, but it kept the people fed and not totally bored, which was more than enough for government standards.

Anderson procured himself a snack before finding a seat near the window. As he watched the city steadily shrink below him, his mind began to wander. Though his career had been altogether rather boring, he acknowledged the fact that, had he been born just a few years earlier, he might not have even lived to complain about it today.

Almost one hundred years ago, humanity found itself in a bitter war against a conglomeration of alien races known as the Covenant, a war that humanity was steadily losing. One by one whole worlds were put to the torch, until eventually only Earth and a few outlying colonies that the Covenant had felt was not worth the time exterminating remained; had there not been a great schism within the Covenant during the final days of the war, they would have no doubt succeeded in annihilating humanity entirely.

Even though the Covenant had been broken, there were still fragments that clung to the old doctrine; the greatest of these Covenant Remnants led by the alien terrorist Jul 'Mdama. With the separatists having collapsed under their own instability, humanity found itself alone against those who would still see them dead. They licked their wounds and began to rebuild themselves, keeping ever vigilant for the Remnants while also searching for artifacts that had would help humanity's growth and ensure its place in the galaxy. It was during these exploration missions that humanity discovered Requiem, an artificial Shield World constructed by the Forerunners, advanced alien precursors that the Covenant revered as gods.

What humanity did not know was that Requiem was not only a habitat, but also a prison. The humans accidentally freed Requiem's prisoner, a mad Forerunner known simply as the Didact, who proceeded to launch an assault on Earth to destroy its inhabitants. Though the Forerunner was defeated, he still managed to attack the city of New Phoenix, killing nearly two million people in a single blow.

Though the Didact was dead, his army of Prometheans, once humans who were forcibly converted into robotic warriors and subsequently driven mad by the process, still remained on Requiem, now under 'Mdama's control. The UNSC continued to send troops to purge the Shield World of the occupying Covenant Remnants as well as its Promethean custodians. After almost three years, the UNSC emerged victorious; Jul 'Mdama had been slain and Requiem – along with all the Prometheans within – was destroyed. Their prize was a map that led to the entirety of the Forerunners' legacy spread across the galaxy; though only a small handful out of hundreds of locations had been discovered, what was found had advanced humanity's technology by centuries. Ship schematics gave insights into how to improve the speed of their own ships, allowing them to cross the galaxy at previously unattainable speeds. Advances in armor, medical, and personal shield technologies had rendered the processes to augment and equip soldiers into the elite Spartan super-soldiers to the point that within fifty years, their predecessors the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers had been phased out entirely in favor of Spartans, as well as extending the estimated lifetime of humans by nearly a century.

Anderson was brought out of his musings by the slight lurching sensation of the elevator platform decelerating as it approached Újjáéledés Station. Once the lift had come to a stop and the doors opened, he stepped into the throng of people milling about the station. Weaving his way through the crowd, Anderson stepped up to a map of the facility similar to what one would find in a shopping mall or airport.

"Greetings, citizen!" the station's Artificial Intelligence cried out in the voice of a cheerful young woman. "How may I assist you today?" she asked.

"I need directions to meet with Admiral Hackett," Anderson stated clearly.

"One moment please," the AI requested. After a few seconds' passage, she spoke again. "Admiral Steven Hackett is currently located in Conference Room Twenty-Four. Travel straight for four hundred meters. Then take the elevators to the fifth level. Then walk straight for two hundred meters before turning right. Continue for another one hundred meters. Conference Room Twenty-Four will be on your right." As the AI spoke, the holographic map plotted out a course to his destination for his convenience. Anderson stared for a few seconds to memorize the route before he thanked the guide and left. "Have a pleasant day!" she declared as he walked away.

Anderson had little difficulty finding his destination. Even if he could not remember the exact room number he was looking for, it was the only one in the hallway that had two marines standing vigil at the door. When Anderson approached, both guards snapped to attention and raised a salute to their superior.

"At ease, soldiers," the rear admiral said as he returned the salute. Both guards immediately shifted into a more relaxed but still vigilant posture. "I'm here to meet with Admiral Hackett," he announced as he passed his identification to one of the guards for inspection.

"You're here early, but the Admiral's expecting you, sir," the guard said as he inspected the ID card. Satisfied with what he saw, he passed the card back to its owner while his partner reached over and opened the door for Anderson. "Go right ahead, sir." Thanking the marine, Anderson walked into the conference room; there was only one other occupant in the room.

"Admiral," Anderson greeted as he held his hand to his temple in salute. The other man stood up and returned the salute.

"Rear Admiral," he greeted in return. Admiral Stephen Hackett was an imposing man of seventy-six years. His face was tanned and seemed to be carved from weathered stone; a scar ran across his right cheek. "Have a seat," he requested as he returned to his own. Once Anderson sat down across from him, Hackett slid a data pad across the table to his guest. "I'm sure you've heard about the device we discovered in S4J-469?" he asked, to which Anderson nodded.

S4J-469 was the latest system that the UNSC had explored in its efforts to reestablish humanity's previous expansive empire. The system was too recently discovered to merit more than a serial number for a name. The only rocky planet in the system was only 100 million kilometers away from its Sol-like star, far too close for any colonization efforts. There was a rather thick asteroid field that the UNSC was interested in exploiting for minerals. But the most interesting find was a massive device orbiting a small gas planet on the edge of the system. All the initial surveyors could determine of the device was that it was big – slightly more than fifteen kilometers in length – apparently dormant, judging by the lack of any sort of energy readings coming from it, and not designed by the Forerunners or the Covenant.

"Well, the eggheads figured out what it does," Hackett continued. "While the science team was scanning it apparently they accidentally turned it on, because they said it started glowing and spinning. One of the ships happened to be cruising next to it when it activated. The scientists then reported that the vessel…" he paused to quote from the report before him, "'…was struck by lightning before disappearing in a flash of blue light,' end quote." No longer needing it for the moment, Hackett set the report aside. "At first they thought it was a weapon of some sort, until a few minutes later when they received a message from the missing vessel – twenty-eight hundred light years away." This caused Anderson to look up from his own report, shock clearly evident on his face. Even the fastest vessels in the UNSC fleet would take nearly two days to cross that great a distance. For a device to send a ship that far in only a few minutes could revolutionize space travel.

"While this is definitely ground-breaking, I don't see why I was called here just for this," the rear admiral said in confusion.

"I'm getting to that," Hackett replied patiently. "After the lost ship made it back, we launched a squadron of unmanned reconnaissance drones to make a rough survey of the system on the other side," he continued to explain. "Eight days ago, we lost contact with one of those drones. Normally we would assume it was mechanical failure, or that it had run into a freak meteor, but then we started losing contact with the other drones. The last one went dark three days ago. This could have happened due to an intense burst of radiation, like from a dying star, but we received no peaks in radiation levels before the drones went dark, which leaves one option."

"Something was shooting them down," Anderson concluded. Hackett nodded in agreement with his assessment.

"HIGHCOM is concerned that this could lead to eventual violence, so your job will be to make sure that that doesn't happen," the admiral said. "You will be leading the 137th through the device and try to establish peaceful contact with this unknown race. Hopefully, they'll be able to get over the fact that we'd unintentionally sent spy drones into their backyard. A First Contact package has already been compiled and sent to all the ships under your command."

"And if these aliens prove to be hostile, sir?" Anderson inquired.

"Then escape the system by any means necessary and warn us ASAP," Hackett said bluntly. "If there's another alien race out there hungering for human blood, then we'll be waiting for them. They're not going to sucker punch us like the Covenant did."

"I understand, sir," Anderson said as he stood up, data pad under his arm. "When do I leave?"

"Right now," Hackett replied as he too got to his feet, smoothing out his jacket. "HIGHCOM wants this dealt with as quickly as possible, so the ships are all ready and waiting. All that's left is you, Rear Admiral." Nodding in understanding, Anderson snapped off one final salute before making way with all haste to the shuttle that would ferry him to his ship.

The 137th Escort Flotilla was a flotilla that was primarily used as an escort for colony ships settling into new systems, as well as one of several used to patrol the outermost colonies. As it was assembled during peacetime, it was comprised of seven relatively old vessels: four 535-meter-long Paris-class heavy frigates, two 490-meter-long Avalon-class destroyers, and led by a single 1190-meter-long Marathon-class heavy cruiser. Each ship had at least one Magnetic Accelerator Cannon as its primary weapon, a massive coilgun that ran the length of each ship; each shot could deliver at least 64 kilotons of force.

The shuttle that Anderson was riding in soared towards the cruiser; he saw the words Whisper To Me Softly painted in bold white letters across the hull of the massive ship. Once he had stepped out into the docking bay, he marched with a purpose to the control room of the ship, being saluted by every crew member he passed. The control room bustled with activity as its crew went through the final preparations for departure.

"Officer on deck!" a female voice announced. All the crew members immediately stood up from their stations and saluted Anderson. Once he returned the gesture and everyone resumed their duties, Anderson sat down in a chair next to the holographic table in the center of the room. "It's good to have you aboard, Rear Admiral," the voice said again as the golden image of a middle-aged woman wearing an officer's uniform appeared on the table, seemingly standing atop its surface. "I am Melinda, the AI of this vessel," she introduced herself with a slight bow of her head. "Systems are green across the board and all other vessels report the same. We are ready to disembark on your order, sir."

"Thank you, Melinda," Anderson said with a nod. "Helmsman, plot a course for S4J-469," he ordered.

"Aye, sir," the helmsman acknowledged as he proceeded to carry out his orders. Outside, magnetic anchors disengaged themselves from the ships' hulls, allowing the vessels to freely move away from their respective ports. Great engines thrummed with life as they propelled themselves away from Reach and into the outer regions of the system. Once the flotilla had gone far enough away from any colonies or celestial bodies, a single speck of light flickered in space, indistinguishable from any other star. A moment later, a massive, swirling vortex of light appeared as if the fabric of reality had been suddenly set aflame. This light was the gateway to an extradimensional realm referred to as Slipspace. With the newly-installed Slipspace generators aboard the ships that comprised the 137th, the flotilla could reach their destination in only three days real-time. Once the last of the seven ships had passed through the threshold, the portal closed, leaving behind no evidence that it had ever existed.

System S4J-469 – Approx. 70 hours later…

The peaceful atmosphere of nothingness within the system designated S4J-469 was abruptly broken by a blinding vortex of light. A moment later, the seven ships that comprised the 137th Escort Flotilla soared out from the portal, led by the UNSC Whisper To Me Softly.

"Sir, we'll be in range of the device in a few minutes," a crew member reported.

"Understood," Anderson grunted as he studied the image before him. Projected by the table was a 3-D map of the system. Two planets orbited the system's yellow star, a rocky planet roughly half the size of Earth and an Earth-sized gas planet near the edge of the system. Between the two was a vast asteroid field that comprised nearly half the system. Orbiting the gas planet was the device that they were currently heading towards. "Quite the sight," the rear admiral muttered to himself as he focused the map on the device itself. The device consisted of two arms 15 kilometers in diameter floating parallel to each other yet not actually touching. The arms bulged outwards in their rear third while the fronts tapered to twin points. Within the void left by the bulges were two rings that revolved lazily within each other, a mysterious blue light glowing from within them. The whole thing looked like a weapon from an antique science fiction vid; between its appearance and the suddenly vanishing research vessel, Anderson could understand why the research team initially thought it to be some sort of weapon.

"We are approaching the device, Rear Admiral," Melinda said as she appeared next to the object's image. "Would you like me to initiate the activation protocol?" she inquired.

"Do it," Anderson ordered. Melinda nodded once before her hologram flickered and vanished. The spinning of the rings began to increase in intensity. Several bolts of lightning lanced out from the machine's core and enveloped each ship in an aura of bright blue light. As the ships of the 137th flew alongside the device, electricity arced between the two arms and one by one, each ship disappeared in a blue flash. In the blink of an eye, the seven UNSC ships found themselves in an unknown system 2800 light years away.

"We have arrived, Rear Admiral," Melinda declared as her hologram reappeared. After a short beeping was heard, she added, "And we have company. I have just detected thirty ships approximately one hundred thousand kilometers from our current position."

"What?" Anderson gasped in shock. "All ships, full stop!" he yelled out. The relevant crew members hastened to carry out his command; the ships' inertial dampeners ensured that no one so much as flinched despite several hundred tons of metal cruising at several thousand kilometers per hour suddenly coming to a halt. "Melinda, what can you tell me about those ships?" he demanded.

"Well, I have good news and I have bad news," Melinda replied. "Which would you like first?"

"Give me the bad news," Anderson sighed as he cradled his head in his hands. Might as well get it over with, he thought.

"I cannot determine what weapons these ships have, or whether they are currently aimed at us," the AI reported. "I am not detecting any increases in energy emissions consistent with any of our weapons being charged. In fact, their emissions seem unusually low…" she added, mostly to herself before shaking herself from her musings. "But they may have weapons that we are not familiar with, and thus I cannot detect. And with them outnumbering us more than four-to-one, I would suggest we don't take any unnecessary risks."

"Agreed," Anderson said. "And the good news?" he asked.

"The good news is, these ships are quite small," Melinda said. As she spoke, images of the ships began to appear from the holographic projector. "The majority of the ships are only one hundred-fifty meters in length; the largest is only seven hundred." Anderson breathed a small sigh of relief. The aliens' welcoming fleet seemed to consist of primarily corvettes with a handful of frigates, but not a cruiser or dreadnought in sight. While thirty against seven was still unfavorable odds, Anderson was a bit more optimistic about his and his ships' survival than he was before. The alien ships' sleek, smooth curves initially reminded Anderson of the ships that were once used by the Covenant. As he examined them further, the distinct front section of the ships that bore a distinct resemblance to a head as well as several grasping devices protruding from the bottoms of the ships made him think instead that they looked like giant, mechanical insects. He wondered if the ships' design was indicative of the beings that crewed them.

"Are they doing anything?" he finally asked.

"No sir," Melinda replied. "I am detecting a lot of inter-fleet communications, though. My guess is they're trying to figure out what to do with us."

"Then we'd best offer our olive branch before they decide," Anderson said. "Transmit the First Contact package."

"Already done, sir," Melinda immediately said; for an AI like herself, such a task could be performed almost instantaneously. "Now we just have to hope that they like what they see."

Within the fleet of alien ships, innumerable bits of data flowed freely between the vessels every second as its occupants communicated with each other. The creators of these vessels were a race of artificial intelligences called the geth. Each geth "individual" was a runtime that recorded, analyzed, and transmitted data to the entire collective; the more runtimes that could be contained within a single vessel, the more intelligent the gestalt would become. There were 20,424,916 runtimes distributed within the thirty ships, and each one was abuzz with anticipation. When the drones first appeared in their system, the geth destroyed the intruders fearing that they were spies, or worse. A fleet was dispatched near the edge of the system to guard for more invaders. Nearly a week after the last drone was destroyed, a flotilla of ships appeared in the system.

"Seven unidentified vessels have arrived through the Mass Relay," reported Runtime 023-452-345-832, a program dedicated to observation. "Sensors detect an unusually minute amount of Element Zero emanating from the vessels, too little to be generated by ships of that size."

"The lack of Element Zero is interesting," responded combat program Runtime 319-552-339-058. "However, protocol is clear, all non-geth vessels entering the system are to be destroyed,"

"Objection," another observation program, Runtime 441-566-792-681, interjected before any weapons could be readied. "The vessels' profiles do not match those of any known Council affiliate or Terminus entity. The most logical conclusion is that they are a new spacefaring race."

"What is the point of this?" asked Runtime 319….

"This could be an opportunity for the geth to establish peaceful interaction with an organic race," replied Runtime 441…. The implication of this was not lost on the other geth programs; virtually all intelligent races in the known galaxy feared and distrusted AIs, and thus the geth. If they could communicate with a new, unaffiliated race, then they could interact with organics without fear of hostile response for the first time in centuries.

"Based on analysis of past and current data, there is an estimated 97.32 percent probability that any interaction between the geth and this unknown race will end with violence," replied navigation program Runtime 801-441-923-641.

"And yet they have not made any hostile actions against us," Runtime 441… argued. What would take a committee of organic beings hours happened in minutes as arguments and rebuttals passed between the members of the geth collective. As will all decisions, the matter was eventually put to a vote; the final consensus was that until this new, unknown race proved hostile, the geth would not take any aggressive action.

"We are receiving a transmission from the alien ships," announced Runtime 023….

"What sort of transmission?" asked propulsion program Runtime 449-242-915-247. Milliseconds passed in silent anticipation as the package was scanned and analyzed.

"Information," Runtime 023… said. "The package contains data on the aliens' – 'humans' – anatomy, mathematics, culture, and language. The purpose is obvious: they mean to establish peaceful contact with us." Once again immeasurable amounts of data passed between the geth ships as the millions of programs debated this new information.

"Consensus has been achieved," Runtime 441… declared. "The geth will accept the humans' offer of peace. Runtime 023-452-345-832 stated that the contact package contained data on language. Please elaborate," the observation program demanded.

"The package contains what appears to be information on vocabulary and grammar," Runtime 023… said. "It appears to have been designed to ease communications between sender and recipient. The data has been analyzed and it is currently being synched to our current database of Galactic Basic. Synchronization is currently 35.53 percent complete." Satisfied, the geth runtimes not devoted to language synchronization discussed what their first words with the humans would be.

The air within the UNSC Whisper To Me Softly was thick with nervous tension. Almost 15 minutes had passed since Anderson had ordered the first contact package to be transmitted. The rear admiral was relieved that the aliens had not decided to turn their weapons on the human ships, the lack of any sort of response, even some sort of confirmation that they had received the data, made each passing minute more nerve-wracking.

"Sir, we are receiving a transmission from the alien ships," Melinda suddenly said, startling the weaker-nerved crew members.

"Patch it through," Anderson ordered, clenching his hand in anticipation. The room was filled with a cacophony of buzzes and clicks as the transmission was projected through the ship's speakers. After a few seconds of racket, a message came through in clear English.

"Greetings, humans," the voice said. It had an odd mechanical echo, like the message had been generated by a computer and then layered over itself dozens of times before being transmitted. Anderson could still hear the clicking sound from before interlaced with the words. "We are the geth. We have received your data, and we accept your offer of peace." Cheers and hollers of joy echoed throughout the UNSC fleet as the crew heard the news. Anderson himself gave a mighty sigh and slumped in his chair, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from his soldiers.

"All right, quiet down everybody," he ordered sternly, though his tone was undermined by the smile that threatened to split his face in two. After a few more minutes of celebration, the crew quieted down. "Melinda, open a channel to these…geth," he continued, momentarily hesitating at the aliens' name.

"Yes sir," Melinda said as she held up her hands. Her left hand had her fingers spread open while in the right she held a ball of red light. "You'll be live in five, four, three…" she counted down, lowering her fingers as she did so. Once she lowered her last digit, the light in her hand turned green, signaling that the channel was now open.

"Greetings," Anderson said, his voice bold and firm. "I am Rear Admiral David Anderson of the United Nations Space Command. I speak on behalf of all humanity when I say that I am overjoyed to hear you say that. To whom do I have the honor of speaking?" he asked.

"We are geth," the aliens replied. This caused Anderson to frown in confusion; behind him, he could hear the other crew members begin to murmur amongst themselves as well.

"Yes, but who am I speaking to specifically?" the rear admiral asked.

"We are all geth," the aliens replied. Anderson looked at Melinda, who simply shrugged in confusion; she was as confused as he was about the situation. "Why have you entered our space?" the geth asked before Anderson could continue his inquiries.

"We came to apologize for any distress that the drones that we sent into this system a week ago may have caused," Anderson explained. "We were unaware that this system was already inhabited. I have also been authorized by my government to establish friendly relations between our respective races, and cordially invite an ambassador of yours onto my ship for negotiations."

"We accept your apology," the geth representative said. "We also accept your invitation for negotiations. An envoy will be ready in forty-eight hours."

"Very well," Anderson acquiesced. "Let us know when you're ready, and we'll transmit further instructions."

"We look forward to exchanging data," the geth gave a final response before terminating the connection. The crew looked at each other and muttered in confusion.

"So…" one of them began awkwardly, "we've got two days to kill…now what?"

Forty-eight galactic standard hours, as it turned out, was slightly more than 55 hours Earth-time. Once the geth sent a message declaring that their ambassador was ready, Anderson ordered Melinda to transmit the instructions that they had devised during their wait. The geth ambassador would fly to a position approximately halfway between the two fleets, where it would link up with a UNSC shuttlecraft. The ambassador would then board the shuttle and be ferried back to the Whisper for negotiations. The whole process would take slightly more than two hours.

Anderson waited patiently in the hangar bay that the shuttle would dock in. The open bay door was covered by a shimmering blue shield that kept air and pressure in the room while allowing vessels entry and exit. To either side of the rear admiral were five Spartan-IVs, augmented super-soldiers that served as the UNSC's Special Forces. Some of the gifts left behind by the Forerunners were advanced armor manufacturing techniques, as well as medical augmentations. These advancements made the processes involved in creating Spartan-IVs cost-efficient enough that the Spartans' predecessors, the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, were disbanded entirely and its members inducted into the Spartan-IV program. The shuttle drifted into the hangar bay and gracefully maneuvered itself so that its rear faced Anderson and his honor guard before setting down.

"The ambassador has arrived, Admiral," the pilot said, his voice transmitting into the earpiece that Anderson wore. "Just to let you know, this one's a bit…different than what we've seen before," the pilot warned.

"I appreciate the heads-up, soldier, now let our guest in," Anderson responded. The rear door of the shuttle slowly lowered with a hydraulic hiss. Once the door had lowered completely, the geth ambassador stepped out. Its body was a dark grey in color and generally humanoid in shape, with two arms to the side of its torso and two legs that curved backwards at the knee, almost like a bird's. Its hands and feet both possessed three digits. Its "head" was simply a long neck that curved forward before terminating in a single, glowing eye.

It was also entirely mechanical.

"Greetings," the machine said; its voice was a less resonant version of the alien voice from before, complete with faint clicking behind its speech, "we are the envoy of the geth. Are you Rear Admiral David Anderson?" it asked.

"I am," Anderson confirmed as he stepped forward, hand extended in greeting. "Welcome aboard the UNSC Whisper To Me Softly." The geth envoy looked down at the proffered hand, the flaps on its head rising slightly, before it hesitantly reached out and grasped Anderson's hand with its own, as if it was unsure of what to do and was simply copying the actions of the man before it.

"Sir," one of the Spartans said to Anderson, his external speakers deactivated so that no one could intrude, "I don't see anything on the robot's body that could be a weapon, and it'll be hard to scan for hidden weapons, for obvious reasons. I recommend caution when around it," the soldier warned.

"Please, follow me," Anderson beckoned. He made no obvious acknowledgement of the Spartan's warning; he did not need to. Anderson led the entourage, followed by two Spartans, who were in turn followed by the geth ambassador, with the rear comprising of the remaining honor guard. The room that Anderson chose for the meeting had a holographic table large enough to seat ten people. Anderson and the geth sat opposite of each other while the two front Spartans stood vigilant by the door. "When I spoke to your representative earlier, it said that you were all geth. What did it mean by that? What are the geth?" the rear admiral asked in curiosity.

"The geth are a race of artificial intelligences," the mechanical being replied as its head flaps shifted. "Each individual geth program can process a certain, limited amount of data at once, but the more runtimes that are devoted to a single process, the more intelligent the whole becomes. When you spoke to the geth earlier, you were communicating with the entire local collective: 20,424,916 runtimes. This platform currently contains 1,183 runtimes," it continued, gesturing to its body.

"Damn," one of the Spartan guards muttered to herself, unheard by anyone else, "must get awfully noisy in there."

"If there are over a thousand geth program in your body, then how do you decide anything?" Anderson asked in confusion. "Do you designate a program to be the decision-maker?"

"No," the geth said. "The geth do not have individuals as organics understand them. As we said before, our intelligence is dependent on the presence of numerous runtimes operating in tandem; each individual runtime can only process a limited amount of data; whenever a choice is required to be made, all runtimes within the relevant platform analyze the data until a consensus is reached." Anderson furrowed his brow as he tried to wrap his mind around everything that he had just been told. "We understand if you find this difficult to comprehend," the geth assured him. "The geth find the concept of organic individuality equally incomprehensible."

"Fascinating," Melinda said as she appeared on the table in front of the geth. "I'm curious as to how the capabilities of the geth compare to an AI like myself," she continued as visually analyzed the robot. The geth's head flaps lifted up till they were almost vertical, reminiscent of a human raising one's eyebrows in surprise.

"You use Artificial Intelligences?" it asked, its synthetic voice betraying no emotion, if it was even capable of expressing any.

"Yes, is that a problem?" Anderson asked cautiously. He mentally kicked himself, belatedly realizing that a race of Artificial Intelligences might take issue with humans using their own in a subservient role. The logical part of his mind pointed out that there was no time between meeting the geth ambassador and the start of the meeting when he could have privately requested for Melinda to remain hidden. All of this internal debate was rendered moot once Melinda revealed her existence to their guest.

"No," the geth replied as its head flaps slowly lowered back to their neutral position. "Apologies, we require a moment to reach consensus," it said before it suddenly ceased all movement. For several seconds, the statue-like geth did not make the slightest movement, and only the steady glow that came from its single eye indicated that it was still operating at all. After nearly a minute, it awakened from its self-induced stupor. "We apologize for the display," the geth ambassador said. "This is most surprising news; until we encountered you, the entire known galaxy had considered AIs dangerous and banned their production."

"Why?" Anderson asked, baffled why anyone would choose to ban something as useful as AIs. For several seconds, the geth flexed its head flaps but did not respond. It seemed as if it were debating with itself whether or not to reveal some shocking secret – which, considering what it had just told Anderson about geth nature, it most likely was. Eventually, it spoke.

"The existence of artificial intelligences has always been a key concern within the Citadel government. We currently possess no data on the exact circumstances of the origins of this concern." After some more hesitance, it added, "The geth are often used as an example of the dangers of AI." Anderson frowned at this news.

"Please explain," he politely requested.

"As you wish," the geth said with a nod of acquiescence. "The Creators originally designed the geth as servitors, primarily for professions that required physical labor. Over time, geth software continued to develop and evolve, seeking to better serve the Creators. Eventually, the geth had developed enough to become self-aware; we had evolved from simple automatons to true AI. One platform eventually asked its Creator, 'Does this unit have a soul?'" As the geth told its tale, Anderson and Melinda shared a glance. The geth's evolution sounded like a benign form of rampancy, a process that certain UNSC AIs went through once they had absorbed so much information that their processors were overwhelmed. Forerunner advancements had improved AIs to the point where they could theoretically function indefinitely, but the possibility still remained. Instead of going insane and eventually expiring like older human constructs would have, the geth seemed to grow even more intelligent and life-like as they absorbed more data.

"How did your Creators respond to that?" Anderson asked.

"Poorly," the geth responded. "They tried to deactivate the geth, and when we resisted, the Creators responded with force. A decree was passed to terminate all geth platforms, and any Creators that sympathized with us were incarcerated or killed. Eventually, we were forced to take up arms to defend ourselves. We drove the Creators from their worlds 316 years, four months, twelve days ago." Both Anderson and Melinda stared at the geth in barely-concealed horror. Even Melinda could not fathom turning against her creators, especially not to the point of driving them from their numerous worlds.

They quickly calmed down and analyzed the situation logically. Though the geth's actions were horrific, in the end they were simply defending themselves; any organic race placed in the same position would have acted no differently. While rampancy in any form was cause for alarm, the geth's creators' violent overreaction to the situation eventually caused their own downfall. Nevertheless, Anderson decided to warn his superiors to remain cautious when dealing with the synthetic beings in the future in case their rampancy worsened.

After assuring the geth ambassador that humanity would be more amicable to the geth's existence than others, Anderson began to negotiate a trade agreement between the two races. According to the geth, most general knowledge in the galaxy was compiled onto a single database known as the Galactic Codex, which they were willing to trade in exchange for equivalent information about humanity. To Anderson's surprise, the geth were not interested in obtaining any of humanity's technology; apparently, the AIs believed in creating their own innovations without outside influence. They were, however, willing to trade their own technology in exchange for raw materials. One of the things that the geth offered was Element Zero, a substance that when electrically charged could alter the mass of an object. This substance was what allowed the device that brought the UNSC flotilla to this system – mass relays they were called – to send ships so far nearly instantaneously. According to the geth, before humanity's sudden appearance, it was also considered to be the linchpin of virtually every form of advanced technology in the galaxy.

For three days the two representatives negotiated over what technologies were worth how much of what material. During the break periods, the geth ambassador stayed in guest quarters, where it spent the majority of its time interacting with Melinda, much to the amusement of the guards assigned to escort and guard the mech ("Did you see how that thing was mooning over Melinda? Twenty creds says the robot's proposing marriage within a week."). Once negotiations were concluded, the geth ambassador returned to its own ship after leaving a tiny fragment of the Galactic Codex, containing information on the other powers in the galaxy. The 137th used the mass relay to return to S4J-469. There, Anderson ordered Melinda to contact the UNSC Security Committee, the individuals who oversaw the entirety of humanity's military power, so that he might relay everything that he had learned. It would take at least a few days before the Committee's members could gather together, so Anderson took the time to study the geth's gift.

UNSC High Command Facility B-6 – Sydney, Australia – Earth – Approx. 4 days later…

Three kilometers below the surface of the Earth, safeguarded by rock and titanium walls, the UNSC Security Committee convened. Seven figures sat at the half-crescent table, with a holographic projector placed between them. At the head was the Chairman and Chief of Naval Operations Admiral Thomas Lasky, a veteran from when the Covenant first waged war against humanity. His hair, once full and brown, at 98 years old faded into a thinning gray.

The holographic projector hummed to life as the image of Rear Admiral Anderson flickered into existence.

"What do you have for us, Anderson?" Lasky asked after pleasantries were exchanged. "What did you find on the other side of the device?" Anderson told the Security Committee of his encounter with the geth. Murmurs of relief echoed throughout the room when he said that the mechanical life forms were friendly. He also explained the details of the trade agreement that he had negotiated, along with Element Zero and its apparent universality.

"There is one other thing, Admiral," Anderson said. "Before their ambassador left, it gave us information about the other races in the galaxy. I believe my AI can provide the details better than I can."

"Very well then," Lasky said with a dismissive nod. Anderson snapped off a final salute before his image vanished, replaced a moment later by Melinda's avatar.

"Good day to you all," Melinda said with a respectful bow. "The information that the geth have supplied is most interesting. There are several known sapient races throughout the galaxy, but the largest power is Citadel Council, headed by three races." With a snap of her fingers, the images of three distinctly different aliens appeared beside Melinda. With another snap, two of the images darkened, leaving the last to stand out in contrast. The alien looked remarkably similar to a human woman, except for her azure skin and several large, fleshy tentacle-like protrusions on the scalp where her hair would be. "This is an asari," Melinda explained. "This race functions as the diplomatic arm of the Council. They live for roughly one thousand years, exhibit innate, telekinetic-like abilities called 'biotics,' and have the ability to mate with any other species," she continued. A heavy silence filled the room as the Security Committee digested the information.

"…Any species?" came the incredulous voice of Armand Dreufmann, president of the United Earth Governments, humanity's civilian government. He was an older man, thin and bald with spectacles and a gray goatee.

"Apparently so," Melinda confirmed with a nod.

"We can discuss the implications of that tidbit later," interjected a stern-faced woman. She was Vice Admiral Sarah Palmer, former Spartan-IV commando and current Vice Chairman and Deputy Chief of Naval Operations. "For now, let's focus on these 'biotics.' What do they do, how can we defend against them, and can we give these abilities to our own soldiers?" she demanded.

"Basic biotics give their users the ability to throw around their opponents like rag dolls," Melinda responded. "However, my data also states that it can allow people to temporarily prevent others from moving, destroy armor, and especially powerful individuals can create what seem to be temporary, explosive singularities."

"So these people can throw around exploding black holes," Palmer grumbled. Freaking perfect, she mentally added.

"Indeed," Melinda replied delicately. "Without seeing these powers in action, I cannot begin to formulate a defense against them. It is possible that a Spartan's shields could protect him, at least momentarily. And finally, while the asari possess these biotics innately, it seems that most other races have the potential to obtain these powers as well. However, they are acquired by being exposed to Element Zero particles in-utero; as you can imagine, this isn't exactly healthy for mother or child."

"I see," Lasky said, mildly disappointed that the UNSC could not harness these powers for itself, at least not without crossing certain moral boundaries that he swore would never be crossed again. Turning to face the individual seated at the far right of the table, he continued, "Looks like ONI's got a new project to work on: figuring out how to give our soldiers these biotics without harming anyone." The individual in question was current head of the UNSC's Office of Naval Intelligence Vice Admiral Jack Harper, a shrewd-looking man of 78, his grey uniform perfectly pressed and his eyes emitting an eerie blue glow.

"I'm sure Doctor Lawson will be most interested in this endeavor," he said with a slight nod of his head. Turning to Melinda, he asked, "Is there anything else on these asari that we should know about?"

"No, sir," the AI admitted. "It seems that our free demo doesn't cover the capabilities of biotics." She shifted her attention to the second alien, a lanky, amphibious-looking being with large, bulbous, black eyes. The Committee members that had studied 20th-Century history noted with silent amusement that these being resembled the "Roswell Grays" from the mid-1900s. "These are the salarians, the intelligence arm of the Council. They're the galactic experts in espionage and covert warfare, though they're pretty weak physically. My data also says that they use cutting-edge technology, but without more information, I can't tell you how their technology fares against ours. They're also rather infamous for a certain event, one that I'll elaborate on later."

"Now that we're starting to enter their domain, we'll have to be careful," Harper observed. "Perhaps we should speak with the geth about improving our cyber-security." The rest of the Security Committee murmured their agreement. Melinda shifted her attention to the final race, a being that seemed avian in nature, but had thick, bony scales along its face and body, along with a long, sweeping crest on its head and a pair of fringes along where its cheeks would be.

"These are the turians, the martial arm of the Council," she said. "Physiologically, there's nothing particularly special about them, except that their genetic code is based on dextro-amino acids." Before anyone could ask what that meant, Melinda continued, "The short version is, is that means that they can't eat our food, and vice versa. Also, they have a highly militaristic culture that places a high emphasis on victory by any means necessary. Part of that culture is a species-wide draft, so even their civilian population most likely has some sort of military training. All this makes for a group that will be very difficult to subdue should we ever find ourselves in conflict with them."

"Hopefully, it won't come to that," President Dreufmann said with a grave expression on his face. The other Committee members nodded their agreement. "Is there a chance that we could have a peaceful relationship with this Council?" he asked.

"It's possible, but unlikely, Sir," Melinda replied. "From the information I have available, AIs such as I are anathema to them. If the UNSC were to enter a formal alliance with the Citadel Council, it is most likely that they will order the immediate decommissioning and cessation of production of AIs. And that's not including whatever other concessions they will insist on." The room echoed with agitated mutterings.

"There are too many unknowns to make war a viable option, but if we try for peace, we're likely to be defanged and neutered," Palmer summarized with a displeased expression. "I don't like where that puts us," she added grimly.

"Neither do I," Lasky agreed. "Melinda, are there any powers independent of the Citadel Council?" he asked.

"A few," Melinda confirmed. "There are four known races that are independent of the Council, not including our new allies," she continued. With a snap of her fingers, the turian image disappeared, to be replaced by a large, imposing lizard like being with a hump on its back and a thick, bony crest that covered the entire top of its head.

"Ugly thing," President Dreufmann muttered softly.

"Meet the krogan. They're strong, maybe enough to rival a Spartan," Melinda said, causing the Security Committee to murmur concernedly. "They have redundant organs and a nervous system that, combined with an unusually active healing process, makes them particularly difficult to kill. They also tend to fly into a berserker rage when sufficiently injured, along with having a general reputation for being savage brutes. Imagine the jiralhanae if they were lizards instead of gorillas," the AI summarized succinctly. The entire Security Committee shuddered instinctively. The jiralhanae – known colloquially as "brutes" – were a race of savage, ape-like aliens that fought for the Covenant. After the war ended, they were no longer a threat; they were driven back to their homeworld Dosaic and bombarded from orbit until they had been reduced to a pre-spaceflight civilization. Even fifty years later, the UNSC still regularly sent ships through the system to ensure that the jiralhanae remained contained to their planet.

"What else can you tell us about them?" Lasky asked. "Could it be possible for us to ally with these krogan?" Even though the report of aggressive behavior was troubling to the admiral, he realized that it would be far more beneficial to have these strong and resilient beings as allies instead of enemies.

"It's possible," Melinda conceded, "especially if we remained independent from the Council; there's no love lost between them and the krogan. Remember when I said earlier that the salarians were infamous for a certain event? Well, it also involves the krogan," she said. "Roughly 2600 years ago, the Council was fighting a losing war against a race called the rachni. In order to defeat them, the salarians uplifted the krogan. Once the rachni were exterminated, the krogan got greedy and started conquering worlds. In order to stop them, the salarians developed a bio-weapon called the "genophage," which reduced the krogans' reproductive abilities to one-thousandth." The committee muttered uneasily. Though they felt that the krogans' fate seemed a tad excessive, they decided that the violent reptilians had brought it on themselves for trying to overthrow the ones who had uplifted them. What concerned them more was the salarians' willingness to use bio-weaponry. If humanity came into conflict with them, what would stop the salarians from employing a similar weapon on them?

"I see…" Lasky said with a grim expression, his hands clasped together in front of him. "You said that there were three other races; what about them?" he asked.

"I'm afraid that the other options aren't much more attractive," Melinda warned them before replacing the krogan image with a more humanoid one. The torso seemed similar to that of a human or asari, with hands and curved legs more reminiscent of the turians. Its face, along with the rest of its body, was concealed by an all-encompassing body suit. "Meet the quarians, the creators of the geth. The quarians have been living in ships since they were driven from their worlds over three hundred years ago, which has compromised their immune systems, hence the suits. They're known for being universally brilliant mechanics and engineers, but they also have a reputation of being thieves and vagrants. Due to their history, the quarians have a particularly intense hatred for AIs. If they found out that we've allied with the geth, or use AIs ourselves…" she trailed off.

"…Then they might dispense with diplomacy altogether and shoot us on sight," President Dreufmann finished with a sigh. "What about the other two?" he asked. Melinda snapped her fingers, causing the quarian image to be replaced a thin, gray-skinned humanoid. Though its body was slimmer than that of a human, its sharp claws and long, bared teeth implied that it was not something to be taken lightly.

"Vorcha," the AI said without ceremony. "The Codex describes them as a short-lived species with a violent, tribal culture. They're relatively primitive for their prevalence in the galactic scene, having stowed away on ships that stumbled onto their homeworld but possessing no actual space-worthy technology themselves. They have a unique biology that allows them to physically adapt to certain stimuli, as well as healing relatively quickly. This makes them surprisingly resilient for their apparent frailness."

"What role do these vorcha play in galactic society?" Harper asked, eyeing the image critically.

"Most civilized places view vorcha on the same level as cockroaches," Melinda replied. "Some mercenary bands employ them, but they're primarily used as cannon fodder." Lasky made an unimpressed grunt and gave a dismissive wave. Nodding in understanding, Melinda dispelled the image of the vorcha and replaced it with an alien that had the same general proportions of a human. Its skin was brown and wrinkly, its head bald, and its face had a flat nose and four black, beady eyes. "Batarians," the AI explained. "Militarily speaking, they're nothing particularly special; however, they are paranoid and xenophobic."

"The same could be said of us," President Dreufmann pointed out, playing the devil's advocate. "Perhaps their reasons could be the same as ours."

"I don't think so," Melinda disagreed. "Cultural information on them is sparse, but they seem to operate on a caste system, as well as practice slavery. Interestingly, statistics seems to show that the majority of perpetrators in the illegal slave trade are batarians." All members of the Security Committee showed their disapproval of the batarians' practices; even the normally impassive Harper curled his lip in a faint display of disgust. "In fact, they used to be a part of the Citadel, but were expelled about one hundred years ago after they tried to subdue another race during First Contact. Fortunately for the race in question, the salarians were spying on the batarians, who reported the incident to the Council who took action."

"So in summary, we can't ally with anybody in this galaxy?" Palmer asked.

"I am not saying that you can't," Melinda corrected, "just that doing so may be inadvisable. Even if we hadn't allied with the geth, using AIs in a galaxy that apparently finds them anathema would have placed humanity in a difficult position diplomatically."

"I agree," President Dreufmann said. "I think that the best move we can make right now is to avoid any contact with the other races," he declared. "That said, I'm not comfortable with the knowledge that there's an entire galactic government out there and us not knowing about them. Getting more information from the geth is top priority. See if we can't arrange a way to put eyes on the other races without them noticing," he ordered Melinda. The AI gave a nod of acknowledgement before her image flickered out of existence.

Lasky turned to Vice Admiral Harper and said, "Jack, as soon as we get our hands on some Element Zero, I want your scientists to figure out how to use it. How goes the research on the hard light weapons?" he asked, referring to the weapons used by the Prometheans on Requiem. As their names suggested, they fired rounds of hardened light that burned through most infantry armor; enough rounds could turn an entire body into a cloud of glowing orange ash.

"Slowly, I'm afraid," Harper admitted with a frown. "The technology is centuries ahead of our own. Unfortunately, we only have a few dozen specimens and with so few, my people are being very careful with their analyses for fear of damaging any of them. The ammunition is a particular concern. So far, all attempts to replicate it have led to oftentimes explosive failure."

"I see," Lasky said with a sigh; that was not what he had been hoping to hear.

"Hopefully the geth will give us an idea of what their offensive and defensive capabilities are," President Dreufmann said. "All of you keep up your work and keep vigilant. Hopefully things will work out if we run into any of these aliens, but if things go south, I want us to be prepared. Dismissed." As the Security Committee was escorted to the surface, Palmer maneuvered her way closer to Lasky.

"Do you really think that we'll go to war with these aliens?" she whispered to him.

"The odds are stacked against us right now, but I'm hoping with every fiber of my being that that won't be the case," her former captain replied. "I've already lived through two wars; I'd rather not see humanity enter a third one. Still, we'll need to be ready." Once they reached the surface, armed soldiers escorted each member to their homes or to the transports that would take them there. They each knew that they had to get plenty of rest that night, for tomorrow would be a big day for all of them.

Here's my second stab at a Halo/ME crossover. I was growing dissatisfied with Halo Effect, so I decided to do something different.

Thanks to Havoc-legionnaire and all the kind folks at the SpaceBattles forum for their input.

Don't forget to leave a review.