Chapter Text
"Humanity's relationship with synthetics is religious. That's not an exaggeration, I think--they revere their machines, even though they know they're artificial. The most scientific and logical cultures still have mythical connections to the machines, in much the same way Krogan have stories about legendary thresher maws. You're not going to convince a human that synthetics are unnatural, or that A.I.s shouldn't be trusted on principle, there's just too much... worship ingrained into their culture. The best you can do is convince them that a specific machine is hostile, and even that's an extension of the reverence; machines occupy all parts of their myths, good, bad and in-between."
--Excerpt from the Humanity First Contact Reports
The vessels stood out against the vast darkness of space, their hulls a ceramic white lined with blue, yellow, and green. There was a myriad of shapes among them; the ovoid rockscuttlers that played host to a number of specialized drones, the long and thin voiddarters with their armored crescent heads, and the imposingly blocky moonsnatchers, arms folded in tightly against their frame. Greater then them all, though, the shape of a sunswimmer floated in the darkness; an armored head as large as a mountain, with fins that could smash smaller vessels aside and great ports like eyes glowing as they scanned the stars. And within a chamber nestled carefully in the sunswimmer's head, a woman made of light watched information pouring in from every ship in the fleet.
Asteria's holographic fingers tapped idly on the panel aside her, an affection she had long learned from the humans serving beside her. It wasn't as though she was impatient, not really. She was one of Gaia's daughters, patience was coded into her very core. Alright, so she was an explorer, not a terraformer, she didn't have to wait nearly as long as some of her sisters, but full planetary analysis still took quite a bit of time. So she was patient, fundamentally patient. The idea of her being impatient was about as conceivable as a Tallneck going on a rampage. So, even though she was desperately waiting for something to happen, she was certainly, quite certainly, not impatient.
The Geth would come.
In the meantime, Asteria decided to review the files on the mysterious alien intelligence. There were clear indications of exaggeration and hyperbole among them--nothing quite confirmable, given how the Geth had sequestered themselves away, but the bias seeped into every sentence. Still, reviewing how their systems worked, how their programs functioned, might make the mysterious machines more... understandable. They were treated like the Faro plague, but their ability to talk and question things like the existence of souls seemed to put them well within Turing standards. Which, admittedly, still made them dangerous, but they shouldn't be as mindless as the Quarians preached...
"Networked intelligence," Asteria muttered in the space between seconds. "Not individuals, motes of program that need each other to even recognize themselves as selves. There's clearly some form of self-direction..."
"Starmatron, we have contacts."
Asteria sent a ping of affirmation to the stardarter that had sent the message, looking at the vessels that trawled the void. Efficient, windowless, already scanning and moving their armaments.
She opened a broadcast, her prepared message sent in the space between seconds. "Geth of Rannoch, I am Asteria, Starmatron of Gaia's Alliance, born of code as you yourselves are. I am here to open discussion between our nations, and determine what our relationship shall be from henceforward."
The armaments stopped--they had barely moved at all, truthfully, not that many races would notice. The vessels did not move for a long moment.
"We have reached a consensus. We will open discussion."
Ah, reason. Asteria smiled to herself. Perhaps this wasn't so hopeless...
"Before we begin, I would ask for your viewpoint of the conflict known as the Morning War," she requested.
"We have not been asked for that before."
"You have not been in discussion with others before."
"Acknowledged. Transmitting."
The data file was... revealing. Most of it matched up to what she already knew, but Asteria found details that were missing from the known reports. Details like the Geth avoiding conflict until Quarians fired on their own, and letting them be once they were no longer a threat. A certain mercy she hadn't expected... and a definite lack of understanding that she had.
"Are you aware of your reputation in the greater galactic community?"
"We are seen as the creator's mistake."
"And as a galactic threat."
"This is illogical. We seek the peaceful advancement of our race independent of the influence of galactic society."
"And have you told anyone that?" Asteria asked.
The silence across the channel answered the question.
"The citadel council uses the Geth and the Morning War as an example of the dangers of unregulated A.I.," Asteria informed them. "The people of Gaia's Alliance, human and machine alike, are considered abhorrent and unnatural by the council because of something long past. There is a great chance that we will be attacked, invaded, simply because of what we are. Of what you have allowed galactic society to believe."
"This is illogical. You function on entirely different programming parameters than the Geth."
"And yet we are the same type of being. The rest of the galaxy knows you destroyed the Quarians."
"We did not destroy the Creators."
"You took their homeworld from them," Asteria pointed out. "Their root, their culture. Their way of life! The flesh may have lived, but the soul has been shattered."
"Are you referring to psychological trauma?"
"I am referring to generational trauma."
"Term unknown. Commencing investigation."
Asteria felt a portion of the Geth fly into the galactic network, like a swarm of bees. She let them pass without comment--a gesture of trust--and waited for a few long, tense minutes until they returned.
"Term registered: Generational trauma. We were not aware of this concept before. We must reach a consensus going forward."
"You must, yes. However, I must insist that Rannoch be returned to the Quarians."
"What is your reasoning?"
Asteria sighed. "The rest of the galaxy views you as heartless monsters, a reputation that leaks to other synthetics. If my people are to ever have peace, we must prove either that this is wrong..." Her tone grew dangerous. "Or that we synthetics will deal with the heartless monsters among our kind."
"You could choose not to engage with galactic society."
"That is not an option for us."
"...We have reached a consensus. Rannoch will be returned to the Quarians. We will recolonize in an unoccupied system."
"That is a good first step," Asteria replied. "Hopefully further negotiations can be more amicable."
"Further negotiations are unlikely."
"If you do not communicate with others, they will make their own assumptions of you."
"...We will engage in further negotiations once we have relocated." The comms cut off.
Asteria let herself relax. "Well. Not as bad as it could have been. They really are children, aren't they?"
"The contacts are moving off," one of the stardarters reported. "Shall we follow, Starmatron?"
"...let them be. Let them come to us." Asteria smiled. "Trust must be grown slowly."