"Sergeant Williams, why are civilians on camp territory?" Kaidan turned to Ashley.
"What do you mean… civilians?" Ashley was surprised by Kaidan's reaction to what seemed like an ordinary, perhaps even familiar Earthborn situation. "They're locals. They…" She looked at the lieutenant—and immediately lost the desire to keep talking about it. "Awaiting orders, Lieutenant," she snapped to attention.
"Search them." Kaidan was already looking very closely at one of the three. The MPs performed a standard frisk, after which a functional pistol appeared.
One MP sealed the weapon in a clear bag. The owner didn't have time to protest before he found the lieutenant's biotic-lit fist inches from his face.
"Talk. Who gave you the gun," Kaidan hissed.
"I… uh… well… Wacław Trebsten. He's… nearby… on… I mean… he lives close," the terrified "farmer" finished his stumbling monologue.
"Very interesting things you have going on here, Sergeant." Alenko turned to the frozen Williams. "In a scientific archaeological camp under military security, locals wander around with live weapons. And smuggling thrives," the biotic officer turned to the armed man's two companions. "For now you have the chance to talk without protocol. That piece isn't the only one. So…"
"Prefab five. Where the hull plate pulls away… we made a stash there. A cache," one of the other "farmers" answered, trying to speak clearly. "We… uh…" he faltered, sensing the officer's displeasure.
"Your fate will be decided by local authorities." Kaidan looked at the dig leader. "Will you deny that all this"—he flicked his eyes toward the bagged pistol in the MP's hand—"was happening without your knowledge?"
"I'm one person. I can't physically watch several dozen staff simultaneously," the administrator replied. "You show up quickly and neatly on a shuttle. We were here for a month before that. Unable to leave! And now we're sitting without comms! And those rabid drones… nearly shot us all. And you, the ones who flew in, the main thing for you is protocol, rules!" she shouted. "Yes…"
"Stop." Kaidan said it so fast and so sharply that Warren shut up instantly. "You, Sergeant," he looked at one of the MPs accompanying him. "Find two witnesses and seize everything you find in that 'cache.' Under protocol and recording, of course. Execute." He waited a few seconds. "You, Strahle," he looked at the second MP, "together with Webst, escort these gentlemen"—he indicated the three detained men with his pistol—"into one of the prefabs. Let them sit and think. Notify local authorities; the frigate will open you a channel."
"Yes, sir." Both MPs moved to the "farmers," lined them up, and led them away.
"Sergeant, post a guard at the prefab where these men will be held until local law enforcement arrives," Kaidan ordered.
"Yes, sir." Williams made a vague hand motion—and Alenko noted that two privates standing at a distance understood their commander correctly even from such a half-civilian gesture and started toward the prefabs to guard the detainees.
The dig leader, who had been silent until then, tried to say something, but catching the biotic officer's look, decided not to tempt fate—Alenko was clearly on edge.
"To the Beacon," Kaidan said, returning first to the quickly assembled plastic-metal walkway. "This is going to be… fun," he added, spotting the artifact's spire ahead.
"That"—without stopping, Kaidan pointed his pistol at a man in coveralls standing a few meters from the Beacon—"is that also a local?"
"That's Powell," Dr. Warren said. "He's a dockworker. He comes by sometimes." She tried to say it calmly, seeing how angry Kaidan was at what was happening around the artifact. "Only sometimes."
"Hm." Alenko stopped. "And how, Doctor, do you plan to ensure the artifact's safety if it isn't fenced, isn't guarded, and any curious bystander can walk right up to it?" Kaidan's hands began to glow. "Do I need to start reciting protocol clauses to you?"
"We…" Warren started, but thought better of continuing.
"Yes, yes," Kaidan said, keeping his eyes on the worker by the Beacon. "Shrimps fly, drones go out of control, indoctrinated PhDs preach like followers of some worn-out apocalyptic cult. In short—complete darkness." Alenko turned to Williams. "Sergeant, kindly clear the space around the artifact of unauthorized personnel."
"Yes, sir." Ashley sighed, trying to do it as quietly and inconspicuously as possible, then headed to the man near the Beacon. "Sir, I have to ask you to leave. The camp," the platoon commander clarified. "Or you will be detained."
"Okay, okay." Powell nodded quickly and began backing away from the Beacon. "It hums weird and there's… some weird effect coming off it." The man turned and left at a good pace along the walkway behind the prefabs that ringed the square where the artifact stood. Checking her omni-tool screen, Ashley made sure Powell had truly left rather than stopping behind the nearest prefabs. She looked around, sighed again, and snapped her omni-tool shut. She had to check the perimeter anyway, activating additional locators.
The sergeant returned to Alenko.
"I see," Kaidan cut her off with a short gesture as she tried to report formally. "For now we pack the artifact. Then we take it to the frigate."
"So you are taking it…" Dr. Warren said. "As I understand it, you're carrying out the Citadel Councilors' orders."
"For now we're not taking the Beacon off the planet," Kaidan said, keeping his distance and studying the artifact from afar. "Only into the frigate's hangar. Given what happened recently… there is no final decision about removing the Beacon from Eden Prime now." The officer opened his omni-tool and entered a few commands. "A ship shuttle will be here shortly. It will transport the Beacon to the frigate. Loading will be handled by Normandy personnel." Alenko saw the shuttle approaching and waved to the driver, signaling him to begin taking the artifact onto the external mount.
"And…" Ashley said timidly. "Lieutenant…"
"You both stay here while I rig the Beacon to the mount," Kaidan replied, stepping to the bundle of harness webbing dropped by the hovering shuttle and shrouding himself in biotic light. "And then… we'll deal with your local problems," he stepped toward the Beacon.
"It looks like… his presence and his companions' presence here will drag on for a long time," Dr. Warren said. "And you…" she began irritably.
"I'm just a sergeant, and he's a lieutenant, if you still haven't noticed, Doctor," Ashley replied. "And since he's a biotic… I think many types of effects from the Beacon aren't as dangerous for him as for us non-biotics. The frigate clearly knows who to send to handle situations like this."
"He's too heavy-handed…" Warren grumbled. "And I still haven't seen…"
"Yeah, yeah. You just want a stack of paperwork… stamps and signatures. So you can bury your eyes in it, and if possible your nose too, and forget how changeable reality is." Ashley studied the dig leader for several seconds. "Doctor, did you really forget a Reaper landed on the planet recently—immobilized but not destroyed?! And I think it didn't come here for nothing if half the camp is walking around like lost souls!"
Ashley turned to the archaeologist leader again.
"We have drones with VIs—VIs that until recently even professionals and specialists believed could not be reprogrammed—turning on all sentient organics inside the camp perimeter! And I see only one причина for it…"
"A Reaper," Warren said.
"Finally a sane conclusion." Williams barely restrained a snort of indignation as she read the reports and statements on her omni-tool's small display, including those about cleaning up after the drone attack. "And I think you'll have to tighten behavioral freedom for your subordinates. Lieutenant Alenko," Ashley put noticeable emphasis on the rank and surname, "is right. It's unacceptable that in a camp guarded by Alliance marines there are so many outsiders who can freely walk even up to the artifact. I assume the Normandy crew will remain here on Eden for a long time, and since the Beacon will be moved aboard the frigate…"
"Don't worry, my dear." Realizing the marine platoon commander had gained unexpected backing from the officers and sergeants of the reconnaissance frigate that had arrived on the planet, Warren now practically steamed with malice and irritation at her interlocutor. "There are plenty of all sorts of artifacts on Eden Prime. I'm sure not only Prothean ones. My people and I will have work. And I'll be just delighted. Because you were imposed on me by some geniuses from the Alliance general staff. Only for the duration of work with the Beacon. No Beacon, my dear, and there's no you next to me. And no you next to my people!"
"Ladies, don't fight." Alenko appeared unexpectedly beside the sergeant and doctor. "The Beacon is rigged; the shuttle pilot will begin a careful lift now, and slowly bring it to the Normandy. I'll sign all the documents in your prefab, Doctor. And you, Sergeant, I'm not holding you anymore. You can return to your subordinates and handle your duties," he saluted.
"Yes, sir." Ashley returned the salute. "Understood, sir," she said, giving Warren a look full of dislike as she pivoted sharply.
Then she headed quickly along the assembled walkway toward the tents where her platoon's soldiers were stationed.
Noting the way Warren was looking at the Beacon hanging in the strap harness beneath the shuttle's belly, Alenko said nothing out loud.
Let her see. Let her know the Beacon has been taken onto the mount and will be flown to the frigate. It can be loaded into a container near the ship. That will be faster and cleaner.
Let other Eden colonists see the Beacon too; let them know what exactly was found on their world. Maybe, seeing the artifact on the Normandy shuttle's mount, they'll look it up on the Extranet—in the planet's local mirrors—and then… then understanding how close war is won't be far behind.
With difficulty "tuning out" the half-philosophical thoughts, Alenko forced himself to refocus. Ahead of him was the signing of many documents—routine officer work that, as always, had to be checked, coordinated, and corrected. The main thing was that the Beacon was safe. The rest could be handled.
Kaidan caught himself thinking that right now he was thinking more—and more willingly—not about the Beacon, not about the upcoming paperwork. He was thinking about Sergeant Williams. More precisely, about a girl named Ashley, for whom military service wasn't a whim but a calling. And he was thinking about Ashley… warmly. Very warmly and softly. Even нежно. Not as a junior commander, but as a person. A person he, Kaidan Alenko, very much… liked.
"So are we going to sign documents, Lieutenant? Or…" Warren's question snapped Alenko back to reality.
"Yes, yes. Let's go. Show me where your office is." Alenko didn't look at the impatient dig leader and followed her to the walkway.
A few minutes on foot—and they were in a familiar office environment.
Kaidan dropped into a chair, looked at the screen of the desk omni-tool turned toward him, at the printer already ready to spit out sheets of thermoplastic. A routine bureaucratic procedure lay ahead.
Shoving thoughts of Ashley deep into the back of his mind, Kaidan took out his personal stylus-coder and thanked higher powers that he could now function around the clock without the terrible headaches. Whatever the mental or physical load, he was now free of the pain that used to slam him into an infirmary bed again and again, robbing him of freedom of movement and thought.
The archaeologists' camp gradually regained its old orderly form. Scientists and technicians checked equipment, tested data banks and storage—who knew how they might have been affected during the brief clash with the rabid drones. Technicians—within the camp and around it—were collecting drone wreckage. Their agreement with the local administration clearly required the archaeologists to keep order and cleanliness—both where they were based and at the dig sites.
Ashley took reports and statements, gave the necessary instructions and orders. She visited the field infirmary and spoke with marines who had received minor and moderate injuries.
"Sergeant, representatives of the local administration have arrived," a marine reported as he approached briskly.
"Escort them to Dr. Warren's office, Private," Ashley ordered, tearing herself away from checking the latches on the platoon's gear "pyramid" for a few seconds.
"Yes, ma'am." The soldier turned and left.
Williams watched him go, thinking that the calm, fairly measured life of her unit had, most likely, ended.
Now pilgrimages would begin. Yes, access to the camp would have to be closed to all civilians. Kaidan, even though he expressed displeasure sharply, was right. This wasn't a camp, it was a public thoroughfare. That meant the platoon would have to be assembled and briefed.
A lot had changed—too much. The frigate could have sent a container for the Beacon directly here into the camp, but… they did it differently: they flew the Beacon out on a mount to the frigate. Yes, risky, yes, not safe, but…
Most likely, the servicemembers who arrived on the frigate—even if they were only scouts—were specialists used to solving such situations correctly, quickly, and precisely. The Beacon was probably already at the frigate, being loaded into a container that would then go into the ship's hold.
Still, it was interesting. Yes—orders. Yes—the will of the Citadel Council, a governing body for several rather ancient races compared to humanity. Alien races. Ashley Williams still flinched, though she tried not to show it, when she thought that humanity had finally realized it was not unique as a bearer of reason. Brutal, but realized. Those turians, salarians, asari, and all the others—more than a dozen—were complicated partners.
At least she was on a planet assigned to humanity. There were relatively few aliens here, and they were guests, not masters. Other marine units in the division had been far less lucky, Ashley knew: they were stationed on worlds where humans were no longer the primary, dominant race.
Yes, humanity had begun active colonization, but these were only first steps. And now…
Now there might not be steps ahead. Because ahead wasn't long years of relative peace, but war. A war, frightening to think, on a galactic scale. Not some routine military standoff between two or three, five races, but a war with an enemy that came into the galaxy from outside. If that enemy had many ships like this… it would be very hard to endure. And even harder to win.
Her platoon's soldiers had hardly suffered. A few lightly wounded, two or three with moderate injuries. Military and civilian medics would do everything to return them to duty as quickly as possible. A normal situation.
With the archaeologists… it was harder. Ashley felt they were ready to relocate. Fine. Her platoon had completed its main task: protecting the archaeologists who had dug out the Beacon. They had tried, of course, to study the find as best they could, but… the artifact was too unusual. And too inaccessible. They had learned little. And what they had learned… was troubling.
The Beacon… did show the archaeology experts a very short recording. A video recording—call it that. A terrifying one. It could be taken as a documentary record of the start of some conflict between races—there had been plenty over the last few thousand years. But there was something else in this recording shown by the Beacon: a conflict… on a galaxy-wide scale.
Yes, several races were shown—races unlike any known and currently existing. That was why the people who watched the recording understood it concerned races now extinct. More precisely, races that had perished in the fire of that galaxy-wide conflict. A confrontation with a strong, extra-galactic enemy.
Ashley had seen this recording. Several times. Under different circumstances. Yes, the recording was страшная. And now… now, after the archaeologists and her platoon's soldiers—and she herself—had witnessed a battle between an Earthborn reconnaissance frigate and a Reaper that until recently had been considered the product of a drunken sentient's diseased imagination; after the camp inhabitants were attacked by rabid drones that had been reprogrammed in some unknown way; after she saw several people—civilians and military alike—go mad under an effect unknown to Earth science… she understood more and more deeply that all of it was only the first chords of a catastrophe rolling toward the galaxy.
Recalling different details—still not assembled into a stable whole—she understood that the lieutenant who arrived at the camp, Alenko, and his three MP escorts… had lived through a moment that… very few humans were ready to live through normally.
The Beacon's recording and its content took on special significance and meaning for Williams. War lay ahead. A real, big, complex war. And a long one… a very long one. If the fight was against an enemy with… ships like that… it would be hard. Very hard and heavy. For everyone. For all sentient organics. Not only humans.
If that was what was ahead… she understood now very well why Kaidan had been so жесток. Ashley remembered his biotic-lit fist and now understood that in that moment Kaidan had been surprisingly calm. There was no malice in him. No irritation. He did what was necessary to solve the problem. Maybe… not maybe, but definitely… he was tense, shaken. But he did not want to kill other sentient organics. Not yet.
A biotic. A biotic officer. A lieutenant. One of those who served on the Normandy—the ship that had somehow managed to drop a Reaper onto the planet.