23The Collective found these creatures intriguing due to their relative newness in the galactic void. The opportunity for potential manipulation intrigued them—an untested tactic. Manipulating non-Collective species seemed preposterous, as their usual approach had always been assimilation or destruction. The Overmind itself voiced this opinion. While the Collective liked the idea, the unfamiliarity of this endeavor left them somewhat unnerved and anxious.
As the alien ships approached and entered their psionic detection range, the Collective's psi field allowed them to extract information from the minds of the Turian admirals. The revelations were intriguing: the recently united Turian nation appeared vulnerable to manipulation through their newly operational Gene Stealer Hatcheries.
However, the Overmind rejected this approach, emphasizing the need for patience. Discovery could lead to hostility, jeopardizing the Collective's covert plans to manipulate the Turians from within. Instead, the Overmind favored a more subtle strategy: diplomatic engagement. The Collective would initiate official first contact, avoiding the rash approach the Turians had taken—using traditional technology and blatantly violating their space. Bio tech, and manipulation, in the Collective's view, was the superior path.
...
The Collective delved into the newly acquired information, finding the Turians' use of element zero intriguing. Unlike the Zerg, who incorporated element zero into their very own DNA. The Turians incorporated this resource into their ships—but not through their own ingenuity. Instead, they relied on an external force: the Prometheans, an ancient race.
The Turians stumbled upon a cache of Promethean designs containing valuable technological information. The Zerg found this perplexing. Why lean on alien technology? Why utilize mass relays when, given enough time, they could develop their own FTL propulsion? Yet, the Zerg conveniently overlooked their own reliance on element zero for advancement, unwilling to admit to similar thinking as the Turians.
The Collective chose to withdraw from the system, not out of fear, but to regroup with reinforcements from beyond. Their purpose? To demonstrate strength and power to the Turians—not enough to provoke hostility or extreme wariness, but sufficient to project dominance. For the Collective, this display was adequate, and they proceeded with the Overmind's plan. Official first contact was now underway.
...
Diplomat Canara's nerves fluttered as she faced her first-ever task: initiating first contact—an unprecedented moment within the hierarchy. The weight of her responsibility pressed upon her. Would she be the harbinger of a friendly diplomatic meeting with alien life, or would her actions inadvertently lead to hostility, jeopardizing her fledgling career?
The information on these extraterrestrials remained frustratingly scarce. Tutis's report hinted at their remarkable advancements in biotechnology—an area that piqued the Primarchs' interest. With the unification wars behind them, perhaps they could resurrect past or forgotten projects.
Her thoughts shattered as an aide interrupted her. "Miss, the Primarchs would like to see you now."
Canara nodded her thanks, rising from her seat. She smoothed her uniform and strode into the Primarchs' office, attempting to exude confidence. The room was stark—no luxurious amenities—reflecting the post-war austerity. Most of the Primarchs' resources were channeled into rebuilding. They sat behind a semi-oval desk, positioned to have a full view of the office doors. As Canara entered, their scrutinizing gazes met hers, eroding her confidence into nervousness and embarrassment.
"Ahh, Canara. Welcome, welcome. Come, sit," Primarch Arieon's unfamiliar voice resonated as he gestured to an empty seat. To Canara's eyes, he appeared like any other Turian male—short mandibles, a broad build, and a deeper voice. She accepted the invitation and settled into the offered chair.
"Now, Canara, I hope you've read Tutis's report. Interesting content, as expected from Tutis—always doing a perfect job," Arieon's tone carried a hint of disgruntlement. Clearly, he harbored no fondness for Tutis. Canara wanted to inquire further, but the Primarch's pointed look silenced her.
"Ahem, yes, sir. I mean, I have, sir," Canara stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. She pressed on, determined to ignore her discomfort. "His report indicates that while the aliens retreated, remnants of the structure remain visible on the planet's surface. Tutis has requested an investigation."
"Hmm, I don't find that promising. What if it's their colony? What if our actions offend them?" Another Primarch—a male whose name eluded Canara—voiced sensible concerns.
"Do you honestly believe they'd abandon a colony without a fight? Cornelius, I thought better of you," Arieon retorted, his mocking tone cutting through the tension.
Primarch Cornelius responded with surprising calmness, countering Arieon's brusqueness. "I'm merely exercising caution, Arieon—no need for rudeness. Let's refocus on business, shall we? Our current situation within the hierarchy is precarious. We've just emerged from a war, and unrest permeates our ranks. Proceeding into this meeting without caution could prove disastrous." Nods of agreement rippled around the table, other Primarchs acknowledging the validity of Cornelius's perspective. "What say you, Arieon?"
Arieon's response came with a mix of exasperation and reluctant acceptance. Canara could not help but smile, despite her earlier blunders during her exchange with him. The memory of it still made her cheeks flush in embarrassment. Observing the Primarchs debate what is best for the hierarchy was always an intriguing spectacle.
...
The mass relay sprang to life, its blue energy core expanding, propelling Tutis's command ship and its escorting fleet. Canara enjoyed the view from the window of Akira station—the place where she and the Primarchs would initiate first contact and engage in diplomatic discussions. Hopefully, it would be a pleasant encounter.
Tutis's fleet joined the station's defenders, forming a triangular formation with their fronts aligned toward the relay. "Akira station, the aliens are due to arrive at any moment" Tutis's voice echoed through the halls, the communicators beeping as they connected to his vessel. The relay activated once more. But the ships that emerged were unlike anything the hierarchy's vessels had ever encountered. They were entirely organic, their serpentine-like bodies allowing them to glide through space like snakes. A purplish barrier enveloped their entire length, emphasizing their otherworldly nature. Tutis's reports had not exaggerated—the aliens were indeed advanced in biotechnology.
A total of 120 serpentine vessels exited the relay, their sharp teeth visible. Canara wondered about the purpose of those teeth in space combat, but her curiosity was short-lived. The creatures swiftly merged into a colossal structure, nearly the size of Akira station itself. Surprise etched across her face; the mechanics required to combine such a large number of organic ships, even if they were of alien origin, must be staggering.
...
Tutis's command ship docked at Akira station, drawing applause as he and his crew disembarked—the first Turians to encounter alien life. Amid the crowd, Canara fidgeted with her clothes, determined to reach Tutis. "Tutis!" she called, hoping he'd hear. But he kept walking, disappearing behind the station's hall doors. Frustration welled up within her. "How rude," she thought quietly.
The enigmatic alien structure dispatched a vessel, its size rivaling that of a turian frigate. The ship's serpentine form glided swiftly, docking alongside Tutis's command vessel. As the vessel's hatch opened, a wet squelch echoed through the air, leaving a trail of purple organic residue on the ground. Emerging from the ship were various creatures: two roachlike beings with iridescent shells and a tall figure, slightly taller than a turian. These envoys moved deliberately, avoiding any hint of offense. Canara followed closely, maintaining a respectful distance as they proceeded to the office for their crucial discussions.
...
The meeting room adhered to the typical hierarchy aesthetic: plain, formal, and devoid of embellishments. The primarchs occupied their seats, projecting confidence tinged with a hint of anxiety. Canara, positioned to the left of the primarchs near the wall, finally settled into her chair. Her title as a diplomat was essentially a euphemism for a glorified secretary—her duties involved presenting paper reports to the primarchs upon request or relaying significant events to them. The alien delegation, unable to sit in the provided chairs due to their unique physiology, stood unperturbed. Canara refrained from suggesting larger seats; it seemed the aliens were equally at ease with the arrangement.
"Welcome," Primarch Arieon began, his voice calm and courteous. "In the name of the Turian hierarchy, we extend our greetings. May our future be prosperous." He introduced himself and his colleagues, Cornelius and Rudis, with a gesture. "And you?" he inquired.
The aliens turned their attention to Arieon. In a swift display of purplish energy, their collective voices resonated from all directions. "The collective greets you."
Arieon's face betrayed his shock, mandibles flaring in surprise. The other primarchs mirrored his reaction, and even Canara sat in stunned disbelief. Did I just hear that in my mind? Canara wondered, horrified. The primarchs quickly regained their composure, replacing shock with unique formality.
"Uhm, umm, we thank you for your greeting," Arieon stammered, not questioning the alien's telepathic communication. "May we have your names?"
"We prefer to be called the Zerg Collective, or simply the Collective," the aliens replied, their mental communication piquing the turians' curiosity.
"Very well… Let's move on to important matters—opportunities for trade, technological exchange, and the like," Arieon said, his intrigue evident.
"The Zerg Collective has nothing to offer you," the aliens replied in their insect-like chorus. "Our world's resources hold no appeal for a species like yours. The native vegetation on our colonized worlds is exclusively harvested for the hive, rendering it inedible for your kind. Thus, we fail to see any basis for trade."
Arieon discreetly glanced at his colleagues, hoping to gauge their understanding of the Zerg's implications. The mention of "a species like yours" intrigued him. Could the Zerg have encountered other civilizations? And what did they mean by their food being inedible to their kind? His fellow primarchs nodded in silent agreement.
"Zerg," Arieon began cautiously, "if I may address you as such. Have you ever made contact with other species?" The Zerg deliberated for a moment, their unblinking eyes conveying a sense of knowledge. Finally, they responded, their tone deliberate and respectful: "We respectfully decline to answer."
Though not entirely forthright, the Zerg's response hinted at something significant. They had encountered other species, yet chose to remain silent. Arieon considered the possibilities: perhaps the other species wished to avoid contact, or maybe the Zerg deliberately kept them hidden. Either way, it was a puzzle that demanded further exploration.