operations; enormous plants spread across the entire surface of the planet. Most likely he was holed up at one of these. The problem was figuring out which one. There were literally hundreds of those facilities on Camala. It would take months to properly search them all. And Saren suspected he didn’t have that kind of time.
Jella was still thrashing uncontrollably, trapped in the throes of her ravaged body’s desperate struggle to survive. But she was growing weaker now, her strength ebbing away. Saren idly twirled the hypodermic that might save her between his fingers, still considering the problem of Edan as he waited for her to
It had been obvious the humans didn’t know who was behind the attacks, so Saren didn’t see any reason to share this latest information with the Council. At least not yet. He’d tell them about the illegal AI research at Sidon, of course. It would cause serious trouble for the Alliance, and draw attention away from his own continuing investigation into Edan’s involvement. But until he knew exactly why the batarian considered the rewards of this mission worth the incredible risk, he’d keep Edan’s name out of the reports. Now all he had to do was figure out how to find him.
Two minutes later, Jella was finally still. The turian checked her body for any signs of life, confirming what the monitors already told him: she was gone. Only now did he take the syringe and inject it into the IV, knowing it was too late to have any affect. Then he carefully placed the empty needle in plain view on a small table near the bed.
He walked slowly to the door, unlocked it, and turned the knob. Outside, the doctor in charge of Jella was waiting, pacing anxiously in the hall. He turned to face the turian as he emerged from the room.
“We heard the machines… ” the doctor said, trailing off.
“You were right,” Saren told him, his voice showing no hint of emotion. “Jella was too weak. She didn’t make it.”
Ambassador Goyle marched purposefully across the rolling green fields of the Presidium toward the Citadel Tower rising up in the distance, her brisk, compact strides at odds with the gentle serenity of her surroundings. The tranquil beauty of the simulated sunshine reflecting on the central lake did nothing to calm her mood. She’d received Anderson’s warning less than an hour before she’d been given the summons to appear in front of the Council. The timing couldn’t be coincidence; they knew about the AI research. And that meant there was going to be hell to pay.
She ran through various scenarios in her mind as she walked, planning what she would say when she faced them. Pleading lack of knowledge wasn’t an option: Sidon was an officially recognized Alliance base. Even if they believed her false claims that she knew nothing about their research, there was no way to separate the base’s illegal actions from humanity as a whole. It would only make it appear as if she
was a figurehead with no real power.
Being contrite and apologetic was another tactic, but she doubted that would have any influence on the severity of the punishments the Council would levy against humanity and the Alliance. And, like feigning ignorance, it would come across as a sign of weakness.
By the time she reached the base of the Tower, she knew there was only one option. She had to go on
A scale model statue of a mass relay stood off to her left; a twenty-foot-tall replica of the Protheans’ greatest technological achievement that welcomed visitors approaching the heart of the galaxy’s most magnificent space station. It was a striking piece of art, but the ambassador was in no mood to stop and admire it.
She marched up to the guards standing at the Tower’s only entrance, then waited impatiently while they confirmed her identity. She was pleased to note that one of the guards was human. The number of humans employed in critical positions throughout the Citadel seemed to grow every day; further
evidence of how valuable her species had become to the galactic community in only a few short years. It strengthened her resolve as she entered the elevator that would rocket her up the outside of the Tower to the Council Chamber.
The elevator was transparent; as she shot heavenward she could see the whole of the Presidium stretched out beneath her. As she climbed even higher she could see beyond the edges of the Citadel’s inner ring. In the distance were the flickering lights of the wards, extending out of sight along the Citadel’s five arms.
The view was spectacular, but the ambassador did her best to ignore it. It was no accident that the grandeur of the Citadel was on full display here. Though they held no official power, the three individuals who made up the Council were for all intents and purposes the rulers of the civilized galaxy. The prospect of meeting them face-to- face was a humbling experience, even for someone as politically savvy as the Alliance’s top ambassador. And she knew enough to understand that the long elevator ride to the apex of the Tower had been carefully crafted to make visitors feel awed and overwhelmed long before they ever got to meet the Council itself.
In less than a minute she was at the top, her stomach lurching slightly at the deceleration as the elevator slowed, then stopped. Or maybe it was just nerves. The doors opened and she stepped into the long hallway that served as an anteroom to the Council Chamber.
At the end of the hall was a broad staircase leading up, with wide passages branching off to either side at its foot. Six honor guards — two turians, two salarians, and two asari, a pair of each species represented on the Council — stood at attention along either wall. She passed them by without acknowledging their presence; they served no purpose beyond pomp and circumstance.
One step at a time she climbed the stairs. As she ascended, the walls fell away, revealing the glory of the Council Chamber. It resembled the Roman amphitheaters of ancient Earth, a large oval with seats for thousands of spectators lining each side. Built into the floor on either end were raised platforms hewn from the same virtually impervious material that made up the rest of the station. The stairs she was climbing right now would bring her to the top of one of these platforms: the Petitioner’s Stage. From here she would look across the vast chamber to the opposite stage, where the Council would be seated to
hear her case.
As the ambassador stepped out onto the Petitioner’s Stage and approached the podium, she was relieved to see that none of the spectator seats were occupied. Although their decision would be made public, it was obvious the Council wanted to keep the exact nature of this meeting with the Alliance secret. That further strengthened her resolve: part of her had feared this would be nothing but a spectacle for public show, with no chance for her to defend the actions of humanity.
At the far end, the members of the Council were already seated. The asari councillor was in the center, directly across from Ambassador Goyle. To her left, Goyle’s right, was the turian councillor. To the asari’s right was the salarian representative. Above each of them was a five-meter-tall holographic projection of their head and shoulders, allowing petitioners to clearly see the reactions of each individual Council member despite the distance between the two stages.
“There is no need for pretense here,” the turian said, beginning the proceedings with surprisingly little formality. “We have been informed by one of our agents, a Spectre, that humanity was conducting illegal AI research at one of its facilities in the Skyllian Verge.”
“That facility was destroyed,” Ambassador Goyle reminded them, trying to play on their sympathies. “Dozens of human lives were lost in an unprovoked attack.”
“That is not the purpose of this audience,” the asari said, her voice cold despite the underlying lyrical quality that was common to the speech of all her people. “We are only here to talk about Sidon itself.”
“Ambassador,” the salarian chimed in, “surely you understand the dangers artificial intelligence represents to the galaxy as a whole?”
“The Alliance took every conceivable precaution with our research at Sidon,” Goyle replied, refusing to apologize for what had happened.
“We have no way to know that but your word,” the turian shot back. “And you’ve already proved how unreliable your species can be.”
“This is not meant to be an attack upon your species,” the asari said quickly, trying to smooth over the turian’s remarks. “Humanity is a newcomer to the galactic community, and we have done all we can to welcome your species.”
“Like when the turians conquered Shanxi in the First Contact War?”
“The Council intervened on humanity’s behalf in that conflict,” the salarian reminded her. “The turians were escalating their response; assembling their fleet. Millions of human lives would have been lost if not for our intercession.”
“I was in full support of the Council’s actions then,” the turian made a point of noting. “Unlike some of my
