- How. This. What happened? Visari looked completely calm, but the head of the SIB, Walter Karg, had no illusions. When Vizari gesticulated, "played with his face," setting up the interlocutor or the audience, everything was fine. In this case, Skolar Vizari did not hesitate to discuss with his opponents, nailing them to the wall with the most powerful facts, pressing on them like a tombstone. It was a different case now… The Emperor was furious. The message from Kurtz, which contained materials from the negotiations, had the effect of an exploding bomb among the special services: all exits to the entire area of the planet where the special camp was located were immediately blocked. Electronic device scanners were activated, and the guards were given the right to fire without warning shots. But what's the use of these measures when the leak has already occurred? - Here! – Karg took out fragments of some kind of equipment from the container he had brought with him, as well as a sealed tube with something resembling metal dust. Vizari ran the family company for a long time, and even after gaining power, he did not lose sight of technological progress – after all, the safety of the planet depends on it! So there was a flash of curiosity in the cold, furious gaze. - Nanomachines. More precisely, several swarms of nanomachines, each of which performs its own role. They were detected when processing the cameras with an electromagnetic pulse, and not with a standard one, but with increased power. Vizari listened attentively. - The agents searched the camp area, found this next to the fence... From the same container, Karg took out small fragments of something translucent: - According to the analysis, this is self-decomposing plastic, which was supposed to disappear after a while. However, apparently, it was not designed for our climate, so it never fully disintegrated. Apparently, these are the remains of some kind of wheeled drone. We searched the area within a five–kilometer radius and found the remains of the landing capsule, which are currently in the laboratory. - That is, no one is to blame for anything? Visari asked sarcastically. - Yes, the guards noticed that the prisoners were muttering something. However, doctors diagnosed most of them with shock, so there was no reason to worry. Solitary confinement prisoners often have mental problems... and now we have problems on the political front! – By the fact that Visari returned to his traditional mood, Karg realized that the storm had passed. - I would like to note that I proposed to solve the problem more radically.… - Yes, I did. And yes, I probably should have listened to you instead of using half–hearted measures. But what's done is done… Both the ruler of Helgan and the head of the SIB understood that difficult times awaited them. At the moment, there were a total of nine thousand one hundred and forty-six people in the camp. Previously, there were more of them, but a certain number were seized, interrogated, and then the old quarry in the area of the Poisonous Tooth Rock became a mass grave for them. Vizari did not believe that he had done anything terrible - all those eliminated were intelligence agents. A real hodgepodge, and most of them worked not even for the government of Vekta or Earth, but for large corporations from these planets. Vizari respected those who were willing to work for the benefit of their people. However, if you are an agent of a corporation engaged in ordinary industrial espionage, you are no different from an ordinary thief. However, they still have families, and Vizari delayed giving the order to take action for too long... "Good deeds do not go unpunished!" - So that's it... - Vizari drummed his fingers on the table. – Develop a set of measures to protect against such incidents. The scientists at Visary Corp and Stahl Arms will be puzzled... although no, only Visary-Stahl will be busy with something else right now. About the prisoners… Karg held his breath. "I'll have to give it back." Don't look at me like that, Walter – as if we have a choice... - Well... - No, we won't poison them. Even a delayed–action toxin - the Alliance, unfortunately, are not idiots. So get ready for the fact that a lot of things in the structure of the SIB will have to be changed. In particular, each Citadel race will have to create a separate department. And not one big one, as we originally wanted. Moreover, the development of MOUNTAINS is a priority. - And this Gray Intermediary? Vizari thought about it: - You know ... there is no change here – if it is suspected that one of our guests is his agent, immediate expulsion. If there is one hundred percent information about who this or that xenos is working for, go to the camera, for interrogation, and incrementally. Until it splits. After that, if the agent remains alive, we kick him off the planet again. An information merchant who does not obey anyone is a problem that the Citadel races somehow do not realize the magnitude of. That's all for now. And by the way, what about the "Smile"? - It serves. According to the latest report, the Normandy took the Spectrum Turian Nilus Kraik on Earth and set off on her first campaign on behalf of the Citadel. Visari rubbed his chin thoughtfully. – Helgan, who is working with Spectrum on an Alliance ship on a Citadel mission.… Perhaps it can be used in propaganda. Where are they going? Karg took out an information tablet – it was much more convenient than the newfangled headsets: - Destination: Exodus Cluster, Utopia system, planet Eden Prime…
***
The sergeant of the Alliance in most films and stories of old soldiers is an evil, screaming and salivating angry man who resembles a square in shape and is comparable to Warren in terms of intelligence and malice. The Alliance was in no hurry to dispel these beliefs, and at demonstrations and exercises, the sergeants were vicious, fit, and gave the impression that they were ready to punish their subordinates for the mere fact of their existence. Which, of course, was just a mask. The Alliance sergeant often served as a bridge between the officer's orders and the soldiers, who were not always role models. With foul language, shouting, and harsh will, the sergeants forced the mechanism called "army" to spin even under the harshest fire. So it was much more common to find a sergeant in an officer's position than an officer, in fact – much more qualified personnel were needed for more delicate operations. */ The burly black Sergeant Summers was now dramatically different from his usual appearance: he was calm, moderately joking, and the soldiers looked at their commander with readiness to attack right now. True, the operation did not involve a military clash – however, the Marines still captured double the ammunition. Who knows what? - So, our task is to land on the perimeter of the camp and ensure that the red–eyes comply with the agreements. So that there would be no "accidental" deaths of prisoners. Summers looked around at his subordinates. – I would like to emphasize that you should not shoot until you are sure that you can explain your decision later. The last thing the command needs is a full-scale war between the Empire and the Alliance. Otherwise, after the victory, you'll have to cook here as a military police! The formation laughed at the stupid soldier's joke. - Stop laughing! So, I repeat, for the stupid, be careful with the helgasts. We need to secure the passenger shuttle landing area and get all the prisoners out of there in a week. No more than that–even my blind grandmother could have done it!
***
The Alliance decided not to remain indebted to the Empire. Ten transport ships entered the System in SSD accompanied by ships of the Fifth Flotilla. It was unlikely that Helgan would dare to attack the Alliance ships, but releasing the ships completely unescorted would have been extremely unwise: Batarian pirates posed a serious threat to the heavy and clumsy transports even despite the installed defensive armament.
Much thicker, clumsier ships appeared on Helgan radar screens with extreme clarity and provocation. And the Empire went out to meet the guests…
***
- Oh, damn it… - Captain SLV-010 whistled, casting a glance at the "welcome committee."
Jack Wilson knew that the size of the Empire's cruisers resembled the rantings of a madman, but video and photos were one thing, and seeing these giants in person was quite another…
The system's star was slowly breaking through behind the planet's disk, outlining the torn edges of sharp mountain ridges, and the planet itself fully justified its name, giving the rays of the local sun an infernal red hue. And above the planet hung the Shipyard – a giant orbital station, resembling an ugly nest of some angry insect, shrouded in the same red reflections.
And from this red glow, five long spindle-shaped figures were moving towards the Alliance forces, which could now be observed with the naked eye, not just on instrument screens.
- Message received. Orbit entry coordinates…
- Received… - Jack studied the information. – We head there, hover, deploy the landing party – and wait…
***
Summers didn't like the planet. Categorically.
No, he had seen worse holes – Batarians, for instance, liked to set up relay bases on similar barren planets, but those were exactly bases. Here, however, the red-eyed had lived, and if the Alliance's intelligence was to be believed, for more than a century.
And as a keen psychologist, even without a diploma (the position required it), Summers was familiar with the idea that "being determines consciousness." So Samuel Summers was preparing for the worst in advance.
The landing went smoothly, fortunately, no one on the surface tried to blast them. The shuttle landed gracefully, raising clouds of dust, and the infantry scattered across the planet's surface, trying to get away from the landing "Kodiak" as far as possible – until it took off and finally buried them under the sand.
Next was the standard set of actions for such cases: set up observation posts, organize perimeter patrols using drones, assign subordinate sectors for defense…
And wait for other "trucks" – but much more capacious – to descend and begin the evacuation of prisoners…
***
From the agent's report…
…The order of actions of Alliance forces in evacuation operations has been identified. The use of patrol drones has been confirmed (photos and videos attached). The use of ground laser location means has been recorded.
During the operation… Their high efficiency against openly moving infantry at distances up to five kilometers was revealed, but snipers with "Polog" could freely walk upright without fear of detection – apparently, marines considered light interference a normal occurrence…
***
On board the Normandy.
- Damn it. – Joker muttered. The Citadel news agency's camera focused on one of the prisoners: a thin, pale man of about thirty, with cloudy white eyes. He was blind – and led by a medical officer wearing an Alliance emblem.
- Joker, what is this… Oh… - Shepard cast a disapproving glance at the screen. – Are we watching TV programs during duty hours?
- Not at all – we're getting vital propaganda and learning how to think properly, m'a'am! – Joker practically sang the official greeting but quickly changed her playful tone to one more suited to the occasion. – Have you seen Rynich?
- He's sitting in the armory, drilling everyone who approaches him with his gaze. Leroy decided to provoke him – and as a result, Smeigo "accidentally" dropped a combat knife on his foot… A monomolecularly sharpened one!
- What?! Then why don't I hear outraged screams from Chakvas?
- Because the knife "accidentally" went between the first and second toes on the foot. So Rynich only got a reprimand for the damaged floor panel – and heroically replaced it…
- Hmph… Listen, Rynich doesn't look like a maniac… - Joker took off her usual cap and began bending the visor, known as the "brick." The pilot often changed the fold of her lucky baseball cap for a reason only she knew – and Shepard already waved off all attempts to figure out the system.
- Anderson doesn't think so. He changed his opinion about our red-eyed friend a bit after the latter almost made Jenkins a stutterer.
Shepard looked at the panel clock: one of the most important things in open space, where the concept of time is extremely subjective.
- Uh-huh… Six in the evening – dinner soon. When was this broadcast?
- Three hours ago. Since then, the level of hysteria has only increased.
***
Kelms. A colony-transit point in the Skilian sector:
- State your name?
The woman sitting before the officer looked detached and indifferent. At first, it seemed like she was completely uncommunicative, but questioning other prisoners (more precisely, freed ones) showed that she was one of the few embassy staff from Earth and Vekta on Helghan. All other higher-ranking embassy employees "died before the transfer from the camp infection outbreak."
- Joanna. Foster… - Foster glanced sideways at the bottle of water on the table but didn't dare ask for a drink. The officer caught her look:
- Don't worry – if you want, then…
For another five minutes, the officer watched as Foster drank water down greedily.
- Tell me… - The officer waited until her thirst was quenched. – You worked at the embassy on Helghan, right?
- Yes. As a history consultant. Plus unofficially – I studied Helghan society: structure, customs, and so forth.
"Really? Then why are you still alive? Or did the red-eyed ones decide you're useless? Or maybe you're not much of a prisoner?"
- What do you know about the Transfer?
Joanna thought long about what to answer. Then finally said:
- Well… Another universe, with aliens and in a different time… After the Camp, it's perceived somewhat differently… I also know that the Empire decided to make contact, rather than shoot your parliamentarians on the spot.
The officer listened attentively.
- On my way here, I also read that you don't have warp jumps, and Helghan is practically a monopolist here. I'm sure that bald spider is rubbing his paws in anticipation of profits…
- You mean the Vizari?
- Who else! – Foster snorted. – I'm sure he's already raking in money by the shovel and shaking down your equipment, primarily military gear!
- Why such confidence? – The officer squinted.
- Because Helghan was preparing for war. – Joanna answered firmly. – Because at the time of the Transfer, everyone was sure that sooner or later the war would start. I mean those with access to all the info, not the civilians munching on news from open sources.
Because Helghan's Fleet could potentially wipe out Earth's entire planetary defense, as our military attaché told me.
- The fleet? And size… - The officer perked up.
- At least a hundred ships. – Foster clenched her jaw tightly, so,Just a little more—and it seemed the teeth, already shaky from malnutrition and the onset of scurvy, would start crumbling. – I mean—the MILITARY. And there are also transport ships…
- What? – The officer choked.
- A hundred. I'm talking about heavy cruisers and battleships. – Foster answered firmly. – And the Helgan society was sliding more and more into reckless militarism.
I won't even mention that Vizzari started actively raising very sensitive issues the Earth government began to avoid—which gave him additional support…
- What kind of issues?
Foster glanced at the now empty bottle. The officer caught the hint, and after a minute, Joanna was enjoying clean, cool, tasty water again.
- This coming war… It would be the second one. – Foster nervously drummed her fingers on the table. – There was also the First Extrasolar War.
In which Vekta and Helgan fought against the Earth government.
- Aggression from the colonies? – The officer raised an eyebrow skeptically.
- No. More like the opposite… Helgan was a "world-mine." About two hundred years ago, its orbit held the Helgan Shipyards, where you could repair, refuel, modernize, and even build an entire fleet.
Vekta, on the other hand, fits the class of "ideal world": plenty of greenery and water, and enough land too. In the end, after accumulating funds, these planets bought themselves free from the authority of the Earth government, which was then in crisis.
- And then?
- The government took the money but it was clear that soon Earth would become nothing more than a world-museum, and political power would shift to the Alpha Centauri system.
As a result, Earth built an invasion fleet. Helgan defended itself; orbital bombings had no effect. And then…
Foster thought for a moment.
- Joanna?
- Yes, yes… So, I heard your Citadel is about forty kilometers in size?
- Not ours, but yes—forty-five…
- Helgan's shipyards were fifty kilometers in size. The invasion fleet brought them crashing down onto the planet.
Joanna gave time to digest the information.
- That's… I've seen surviving video recordings. There were many… The entire current capital of Helgan—Pyrrh—stands on the bones of those who died from the strike. And the huge pit itself was originally a huge crater from the largest shipyard debris. Millions died… back then, Vektans.
However, even after this, Helgan kept fighting. In the end, the invasion fleet left some ships on the planet to blockade it, and sent others to Vekta. There, however, they preferred to bomb the planet very carefully and selectively. Vekta and Helgan had their own military formations, but they could do little; police versus army—not even funny…
- So Helgan and Vekta were allies? And fought against Earth's forces?
- Yes. The planet Helgan is named after the Helgan Corporation, which was granted the right to colonize the system. Vekta—after Philip Vekta, director of the Corporation.
So Helgan and Vekta were brotherly planets. The officer could literally feel how those in the room with the recording equipment were grabbing their heads, while the AI compiled urgent reports for analysts and higher-ups.
The tendency toward separatism was still being successfully suppressed by the colonists themselves, who preferred living in one large Alliance rather than in a fragmented system that would most likely be expendable in the political games of the Citadel, the Alliance, the Hegemony, and just any passing pirates.
However, information is never superfluous, and soon many people will study the data with interest, striving not to repeat Earth's mistakes from… a Parallel Universe, so to speak.
"Who conducted the interrogation? Well…"
Promotions can come not only on the battlefield. Promotions earned through diligent and discreet work took much longer—but carried much greater weight. How many heroes did the First Contact War produce?
And who among them managed to stay "in the saddle" when the guns fell silent?
Captain Anderson, for example, became a subject of jokes—with his straightforward military thinking. Though they say several of those jokes were based on real-life stories of Anderson, according to rumors,and the captain himself happily told them…
- Tell me… Then why such dislike for the Vektans now?
Foster grimaced:
- Do you really need to know this?
- Yes. We do. We want to know what Helghan is capable of – for that, we need to study it. We wouldn't want to start a war over a breach of etiquette.
Foster smiled faintly.
- In short – the Vekta Resistance, after two years of guerrilla warfare, made contact with the Occupation government. Those dissatisfied were allowed to go to Helghan, thus ending the war… But there was one small issue…
- What exactly?
- The blockade… No one lifted the blockade. – Foster looked straight into the officer's eyes. And he saw it…
Shame.
- The blockade lasted from 2223 to 2305. The exact number of casualties from the blockade is unknown… People in Helghan's atmosphere died from a disease called "lung burn," and few lived past forty. Back then, Helghan was even less livable than it is now.
Foster now calmly and somewhat distantly looked at the Alliance officer:
- The reason the blockade was maintained for so long was fear that Helghan was still dangerous to Earth. Rumors reached reconnaissance about the formation of a Helghan government, and all possible strict measures were taken to prevent the planet's militarization: a ban on supplying equipment that could be used to create weapons. And the few supplies that were delivered had deliberately shortened lifespans.
The usual trade ban soon turned into trade with exorbitant prices and barter. For ten tons of medicine – the simplest medicine! – Helghan supplied ten tons of uranium ore. This is no joke – that's how it was.
Foster paused longer and longer between words. She seemed drowsy.
- Helghasts… Helghasts appeared only when the Vizari took power amid a popular uprising. And when enough time had passed since the Exodus for the Vektans to finally stop calling themselves Vektans…
"Helghast" is from the words "hell" and "gast" meaning "spirit." Helghasts are a constant reminder of what our ancestors did.
***
Earth. Alliance Headquarters.
Admiral Steven Hackett's office.
Hackett was deep in thought.
Something didn't add up…
The massive Helghan fleet, which most prisoners talked about, came as an unpleasant surprise to the Alliance. More precisely, it wasn't the fleet itself—in the scale of the Alliance fleet or the Citadel races, it didn't look that formidable—but the fact that its location was unknown. Prisoners said that somewhere on Helghan, in deadly deserts where radiation levels kill any electronics, there was a giant canyon where the Empire's battleships and heavy cruisers waited for their moment… Yet optical reconnaissance found nothing of the sort. Small infection hotspots were present, as well as military bases, but nothing suitable for a planetary spaceport was discovered. The shipyard was still under surveillance by autonomous probes, but it was clear this was the Shipyard—this was where ships received maintenance and upgrades.
"The question is: where is the Fleet? Or is it not that big, and all the displays are just to throw dust in the eyes and confuse Vectra and Earth?"
That really could be the case—after the First Contact War ended, the Alliance also did similar things, regularly changing the silhouette and paint job of their few ships back then to confuse Hierarchy intelligence. The Turians had already disarmed, but they hadn't given up on the idea of adding the Earth Protectorate to the Vol Protectorate and tried to push the argument that the Universe is a dangerous place, and only the Hierarchy fleet could protect a young and inexperienced race from troubles like the Batari Hegemony. Hackett, along with Anderson, opposed, pressured, and bent the most frightened politicians. Anderson was unaware, but Hackett even resorted to blackmail several times, digging up dirt on certain individuals and politically destroying them without mercy.
In fact, that's when he was noticed and started being promoted. Anderson loved the fleet too much—that's why he stayed in his place… Well, it doesn't matter.
"Classify information about the Extra-Solar War.
Reduce journalist communication with prisoners under the pretext of extreme exhaustion of the latter. Ramp up propaganda among prisoners: it is highly desirable that they want to participate in planet colonization, and as few as possible are sent to Earth.
Offer Joan Foster and other specialists positions in the Alliance Security Bureau, in the Helghan research department. Potentially, we can use them as instructors for agents who will work in the Empire.
Suppress by counter-propaganda all attempts to incite hostility between the Alliance and the Empire: the Turian Hierarchy and the Citadel Council may try to exploit this…"
Hackett paused.
There was one extremely important and delicate matter left…
The admiral entered his personal identifier, password, and accessed the Alliance archive database.
"Request documents on planetary terraforming projects…"
"I wonder if the Empire even realizes how strong a trump card they have?"