Khaela, liner Fresh Wind.
The enemy gave us no time for a breather. No sooner had we started unpacking than the torches started working on the other side. And the cargo tunnel, through which the Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine is delivered and serviced, began to be cut from the other side. Although there is silence in the reactor hall, one must assume everyone is having a very "fun" time there. But not for long.
Robots, drones, insane jumping transports, infantry—including those with cloaking systems. Casters, where would we be without them. The enemy, in its diversity, strives to compete with The Covenant. Though jumping APCs were a first. Never seen them before.
A decision must be made on what to do next; we won't hold the defense for long.
"Vice Admiral?"
The woman, who had been watching the events for some time and receiving reports—including from intercept groups—interlocked her fingers and thought. We are gradually moving beyond the scope of covert work. A plasma explosion in the reactor room will be noticed. If the ship survives, of course. Plasma in a confined space melts matter in a very characteristic way. Finally, she decided.
"Mine it. Given the situation, you won't hold the compartment. Turn on the belt; if the Avatar is destroyed, it's no big deal—you'll build a new one. If they place you on the same ship as the engine, you might be able to hold out longer. At the same time, we'll get a closer look at the enemy."
Good. The moment of truth. While the human guards prepare for defense, I quietly and unnoticed slipped behind the engine. No one is looking—good. And the Salarians have already started cutting the hangar; I see several potential entrances, including a hole in the rear of the room.
I peeked inside—empty. How much easier it would be with bots. I can't pull out the tails; there are cameras here, and the server room is somewhere else, if the data isn't being transmitted via a quantum channel. I'll have to risk it. No movement; I need to act fast. It's a pity there's no way to provide a 360-degree view without being caught on camera. But there's no time; it's about to start.
I opened the case, removed the console panel for manual engine control, and placed the case in a niche inside one of the consoles, not caring about the survival of the wiring. Another minute and the case is connected. Will they try to remove it or turn on the engine? There will be a detonation. Or by command via a quantum beacon, as an option. As soon as the signal from the engine is lost, signal transmission to the Avatar will only be through the belt. Two hours will remain.
Okay, I see movement. It seems we have guests through the cut tunnel. The Avatar jerked, going into a roll and reaching for a weapon. Didn't make it—the world became somewhat more purple and lost all sound.
Everything froze. I can still see, receive data from the cameras, but I can't react. The world was tinged with purple. Interesting. Judging by the sounds, someone walked past. Is this... some form of paralysis that worked on the Avatar? Like the one the small insects had on the squid-ship? A stasis film? Interesting.
"Vice Admiral, the Avatar is paralyzed. I am not combat-effective."
"I see," she nodded. "Backup plan. The tech is in captivity. We'll check if they captured our technical personnel. Lower your consumption; you'll last longer."
The rifle lying nearby was carefully taken away, as was the pistol from my hand. The tails are hidden, so I can't determine who did this or how. But it's obvious the guests came through one of the drilled holes in the wall. Perhaps they launched the paralysis the same way. If they were capturing the crew, this is exactly how it was done. Paralysis by a field, then capture.
Gunfire erupted in the compartment. But not that much. Less than one might expect. Likely everyone who was needed was turned off, just like me. The rest were killed, and now they will be captured. An interesting skill, but why wasn't it used before? Perhaps it's complex or energy-intensive. In any case, the casters usually attack with purely offensive skills; this is the first recorded use of control other than anti-gravity spheres. But we'll keep it in mind for the future.
As soon as the paralysis wore off, an injector entered the Avatar's neck, and I'm trying to figure out what it is and how the body should react. Likely a jerk, but uncertain, then relaxation. I was paralyzed, everything is fine, continue the capture. Or I'll have to kill you. You believe me, right? Excellent.
It worked; I'm being held in a grapple by two opponents. I could turn them off, but the engine is already mined. No reason to twitch. I can see exactly where I'll be delivered.
The Salarians successfully waited for the drug to take effect; I calculated roughly how long it should last. Then we—me and the other techs—were placed on stretchers and carried away. Only the techs; the military were killed. Just as I thought—they are capturing us for interrogation.
We had almost reached the airlock when the ship jolted so hard that everyone fell. Judging by the beacon on my belt that went off, the case detonated, destroying the engine. The main thing is that the liner's reactor isn't shut down, otherwise we'll start falling briskly into the atmosphere. The engines will freeze, and the liner is finished.
Or rather, the passengers and surviving crew will start falling; I'm being dragged onto a shuttle on a stretcher. A familiar design, resembles the blade of an old axe from history museums—Salarian. After which it hummed and took off. I can't see exactly where, but we are flying.
"Vice Admiral, I have one hour and fifty minutes of beacon battery. Should I continue?"
Margaret Parangosky nodded.
"Yes, we need to confirm the survival of the techs on board their ship. This is a priority. Five minutes of charge is enough to blow the Avatar. Not to mention the 'dead hand' system."
"Understood."
To reduce the load on the battery, I minimized the traffic to the beacon as much as possible. The Avatar is faking paralysis anyway. This way, I can squeeze out up to eight hours. Data will still be transmitted and charge spent, but slower.
The Avatar was brought in and placed in a cell. Judging by what I can see without moving—six squares for six prisoners, two three-tier bunks. Modest, though normal for a spaceship. A standard door, slides to the side, has a window. Some kind of sprayers on the ceiling, possibly for gas. The guards left and closed the door. I can wait.
In the meantime, let's see what we're going to do with the space grouping.
UNSC Apollo and the Vice Admiral's entire fleet group took positions on the direct route to the Mass Relay. The Salarians will have to slow down to enter it. And UNSC Apollo has its MAC charged; other ships have dispersed and are also ready. Margaret Parangosky clearly doesn't want the specialists to end up in enemy hands. The enemy needs to reach the Mass Relay to win.
And also break through the mines—nuclear ones, at that. Stealth frigates with MACs, in addition to the heavy fleet. Of course, unless the enemy brings their own ships through the Mass Relay... Though intercepting Citadel ships with their speeds is quite a problem. But even here, one can get creative.
A voice rang out near the Avatar. Right in the cell.
"I assume you intend to escape. Need help? Don't pretend you're unconscious; the dose wasn't even half for a human. Everything was calculated."
I had to re-apply power to the beacon and look around. A tiny camera with a speaker, the size of a finger, was found in the corner of the brig.
"Who are you and what do you want?"—politeness first.
The speaker replied in a hollow, mechanical voice of indeterminate gender:
"To help each other, of course. You are no ordinary tech, agent. And you need to free the prisoners who were loaded onto this ship. I need information. I offer a deal."
Margaret Parangosky is listening; I allowed my ears to unfold and flick. The author saw through me anyway; I'll pretend I'm giving information. The main thing is to seem stupider and more naive than I am.
"And who are you, 'friend'?"
The other side replied:
"The Shadow Broker. A trader of information on a galactic scale. I buy and sell, and that is why you interest me, agent. You have information. I can help with the capture of this ship. Mutually beneficial cooperation."
Okay, what should I do. Vice Admiral? She calmly demanded:
"Listen to what they have to tell us. Whether it's a privateer or an agent of one of the intelligence services, we will understand a lot by the end of the operation. Information is the main thing; he's right about that."
Well, yes, if they really help us capture the Salarian cruiser, it's unlikely to be their intelligence. Too valuable a trophy. Plus techs included, and whatever else the invaders managed to haul away.
"I am listening to your proposal."
The Shadow Broker, if it was him, replied quickly:
"Good. There are planets in the human sector. Exterminated. Burned to the ground. Melted by colossal temperatures. I want to know everything you know about this, agent."
Now that's interesting. So they explored the Mass Relays and stumbled upon worlds glassed by The Covenant. We, having an approximate map of the Mass Relays, compiled such maps of what Citadel scouts might run into.
"Which Mass Relay? Which one did you visit?"
"That is irrelevant, agent. And not part of the deal. Information for information. I can not only help you but also raise the alarm. Decide."
My hologram in the Vice Admiral's office looked at the boss. She nodded.
"This is something we can share. I'll outline the topics, and you tell the story. You can always say a lot but give little."
Fine. Lead the way, Vice Admiral.
"I agree, Shadow Broker. But the story will take time. I'm not sure we have it."
With a light click, the brig door opened.
"Take the speaker and proceed, agent. Time is of the essence; a significant portion of the forces is currently down on your ship. There are no more than a dozen here; the surveillance system is hacked, they don't see you. Hurry."
A quick scan of the ship and a map download from the nearest terminal revealed one unpleasant fact. This isn't a cruiser—too small. It's one of the frigates or escorts. A hundred and fifty meters long, or thereabouts. That's why there's so little space. They split the captured crew across different ships. And the ship's crew really isn't on site for the most part—about a dozen enemies at the moment. It won't be hard, especially after Ajax connects to the ship's systems.
I, meanwhile, quietly broadcast into the speaker about The Covenant and their habits according to the plan Margaret Parangosky sketched out. She sketched it wisely—initially, the most general information. Want more? Listen and keep helping.
The crew has mostly removed their helmets and dispersed to their stations. The prison guard is asleep, except for one guard.
"This is my agent. Do not touch him."
Fine, I'll play along. The Salarian saw me and spoke very quickly.
"Everything was done correctly. Good. I work for the Shadow Broker. Not an enemy. You should hurry; they will realize there is no response on this level. Act faster."
"Put on a helmet, it'll come in handy," the Salarian immediately started pulling it on, while I moved further.
"A virus is jamming the comms. Don't waste time," the Shadow Broker added.
The capture of the ship went quite simply. Connect the quantum beacon to the system, Ajax seeped onto the ship, and then—override control, vent the atmosphere, stop the ship. Finishing off the survivors who managed to put on helmets. I might not be a Spartan, but with the help of an AI, I can fight quite well, especially since Ajax used the FTL Drive to bring the ship to our ambush, where it was boarded according to all the rules.
And all this time, together with the talking camera, we discussed The Covenant, their religion, and the glassing of worlds. The hacker fulfilled his part of the agreement, preventing the ship's systems from being formatted and giving access to the orders. The Salarian agent was taken politely, carefully. What happens to him isn't up to me. But they will at least maintain contact with the Shadow Broker; they might even trade him for something.
The Vice Admiral wrote a question that should be asked, which I did:
"Tell me, Shadow Broker or whoever is masquerading as him. Why all this? Not information about humanity. Not technical or intelligence data. Dead worlds. An interesting choice of topic."
Now let's listen.
"I want them to see. One of the specifics of my job is to know everything. Have you heard of the Reapers, agent?"
Margaret Parangosky wrote a reply. Interesting. Does she want to hint?
"Squid-like ships, two kilometers long. Inhabited by insectoids. That it?"
If the Shadow Broker was surprised, he didn't show it. Analyzing this synthetic voice product is useless.
"You know. And you know what they are preparing for us. Extermination for all. The crew of the SSV Normandy, however you feel about them, brought information about them. And about the future they are preparing for us. Incinerated worlds are what is needed so they can see. Feel. Be ready. Timelines and attack maps."
I see. The Vice Admiral looked on with respect. I quoted her phrase exactly.
"You want to pit The Covenant and the Citadel against each other so that, using humanity and their own worlds as an example, they feel what a slaughter looks like, get scared, and take the path of progress. So that fear pushes them toward unification."
So that Glassing hits the Council colonies. So that the galaxy unites, as it did during the Krogan Rebellions.
"The Turian fleet disappeared after reporting ships of some saurians using energy weapons and impenetrable shields. Since then, there has been no information from their fleet. My agents found an incinerated world. As far as I can tell, this world was found before me; there is a tracking beacon in orbit, the Mass Relay is active. But there are no traces of even minimal discussion among the Citadel. Total silence. They find traces but remain silent about them. They deny the slaughter, preferring not to notice it. As always."
We are being persuaded to set off an information bomb. Everyone hearing the conversation is thinking about it. Not a nuclear charge, but still. Margaret Parangosky typed a reply; I repeated it.
"Sounds tempting. But why should I believe you? It sounds too good to be true."
This question was expected.
"You won't be able to intercept all the ships. No way. A fleet will appear from the other side of the Mass Relay to help the ships with your techs escape. Mines won't help you. Fire ships equipped with nuclear charges will clear the space, triggering a detonation or destroying the mines with radiation,"—and that might work. If they don't destroy all the mines but just punch a window,—"I can solve this problem for you. If I receive enough."
The Vice Admiral simply nodded.
"Let's hear what he wants. Then we'll decide."
In the end, no one guarantees that a promise given to an opponent will be kept. And this works both ways. Especially since the fleet is in position. And right now, a neutron explosion just occurred near the Mass Relay. And then another.
"They are clearing the space. A projectile passes through the Mass Relay and explodes," Ajax reported.
An interesting idea. It seems this is a method for breaking a blockade. I was given the go-ahead to ask a question.
"So, what exactly do you want and offer. State the terms."
The voice from the speaker didn't change its tone by a single decibel. It seems the program records the voice, processes it, and makes it as neutral as possible.
"As you have noticed, the space is being cleared. Time is running out for you. Your fleet against the breakthrough fleet. Odds, probabilities. Or an agreement with me. My requirements are simple. An information bomb about The Covenant. Cooperation with my agents. Exchange of information on the situation. Trade. All of this is negotiable, but I expect your consent and execution."
I snorted.
"Just like that? Information for effectively a promise?"
The voice replied:
"You absolutely do not need a second front, and it is in my power to solve some of your problems. Or alleviate them. Or complicate them. Or make them much more difficult. As soon as the fleet arrives through the Mass Relay, there will be no deal. Decide."
The Vice Admiral listened to our guest and smirked.
"It seems this Shadow Broker thinks too highly of himself. Khaela, ignore him. Put the Avatar in power-saving mode. Let's get to the intercept. Ajax, begin."
An unconventional method was adopted. Using thermonuclear charges to deploy shrapnel along the enemy's course. They will have to slow down to perform an evasive maneuver.
Simply because the ship remains in real space, and the automation will deem a nuclear explosion an obstacle. Not just any explosion; you need to work a bit with the correct radiation ratio. But it works; we have plenty of samples of their sensors for testing. Simply because the pilot and the ship need time to react, and a lower speed is a plus here. So emergency braking is inevitable; the main thing is to pick the right moment.
And right now, we are observing a touching sight: a Salarian cruiser and four escorts, having slowed down, discovered the ONI Reach strike group deployed right in front of them. The escorts scattered. They banked and immediately jumped to FTL.
"The enemy doesn't want to be taken prisoner."
The cruiser immediately engaged its cloaking system, scattering into dozens of targets in the area and interfering with the targeting of the escorts and itself. But the Vice Admiral is ready.
"Distribute neutron charges across the anomaly. Fire,"—we'll fry the equipment if we don't damage it,—"Escorts, forward. Need visual confirmation. Don't let him escape."
After a series of flashes, we were all temporarily blinded. But when the radiation dissipated, the cruiser remained on the map. It seems the ship was turning when it was hit. But now it's turning toward us.
"Contact!" reported the frigate.
But immediately, a radiation mark appeared on the map. Another and another.
"The frigate has sustained critical damage! The enemy is using a magnetohydrodynamic cannon and a series of small-caliber MACs for burst fire. Distance sixty thousand!"
The ship began accelerating toward the strike group. If it reaches us, the damage will be massive; these weapons don't hold up well against shields. But the Vice Admiral is still an officer.
"Suppress with missiles, take out the armament. If it approaches within thirty thousand, destroy it. Khaela, can you reassemble their cloaking device? Ajax, try to aim the MAC at the engine. We'll try to take the ship as intact as possible."
These liquid weapons fire a magnetically accelerated tungsten bolt at the enemy. The specific detail is that if the shield is breached, the hole won't close until the stream ends. Neither Citadel shields nor ours hold up. And I think it will be quite painful for The Covenant too. Good thing we didn't notice more than one such weapon on the cruiser.
Another nuisance is the MACs. Clearly weaker than standard cruiser ones, but a whole series—essentially an automatic burst of projectiles. And for small ships, this is very painful. Likely that's the point—suppressing small targets with dense fire.
The dreadnought continued to charge head-on, damaging a destroyer. But one ship against a swarm of missiles from an entire strike group... They had no chance. At thirty thousand, it was already a flying piece of cheese, covered in holes. It didn't open fire, and by then the interceptors had reached it, smashing the engine with missiles. The Vice Admiral ordered:
"Send the Geth. We need to ensure the enemy doesn't blow themselves up."
They did. When the dropships reached the target, the drifting cruiser exploded in a bright flash. A pity, but it seems they didn't want to leave technology samples. I hope we can gather something interesting from the second one. And the Geth have new platforms; they lost nothing but a bit of metal.
Meanwhile, a fleet emerged at the Mass Relay. Unexpectedly—Asari. Their ring-shaped cruisers with fins along the perimeter, escorts. They moved a bit away from the installation and took positions. They aren't attacking, aren't advancing. They are waiting.
"Just missing the Turians for a full set. And the rebels with The Covenant."
But they aren't here. The Asari fleet took a position in front of the Mass Relay, opposite our intercept group. Interesting. They aren't attacking, aren't communicating, but they are standing there. It's even interesting in these conditions who the Shadow Broker is working for. Too little information.
"The Consensus is launching the charges," a message came via the quantum beacon.
The Asari aren't the only ones who know how to create fire ship torpedoes. We came up with the idea, but the Geth liked it. An automated ship for breaking a blockade. Essentially an armored slug with a core and an engine, and a very large thermonuclear charge.
charge. The Mass Relay won't even be scratched, but the ships will have a very "fun" time, considering the design of the Citadel shields. And all of this without firing a single shot.
Three, two, one, boom.
A small sun opened up behind the Asari ships. They survived the detonation well enough—after all, the explosion occurred right at the Mass Relay itself—but the reaction was convulsive. We are still not firing while they turn and pull their ships back.
"They took the hint," the Vice Admiral smirked, "you can't outwait the Geth."
Yes, we specifically brought up the Geth ships so the Asari would see them. Mostly small craft, but the mere fact seems to unnerve the denizens of the Citadel. Why not take advantage of it.
The Escorts, when they deign to show themselves, will face the same situation. Break through or go to ground.
"The Salarians might have a staging base on this side of the Mass Relay. If they can't retreat."
The boss waved this off.
"At the very least, it means we have successfully closed this passage. And we've gained a mass of data for processing and counteraction. We still cannot go on the offensive, except with long-range reconnaissance ships. But we can establish a defense. And we will find the Salarians yet."
***
Three Frigates reached the meeting point on time. All vessels are equipped with stealth systems, but there are no heroes looking to jump into a direct fight. Especially since the ships have quantum communications, and the discovered data was being transmitted through it.
Human technicians are undergoing interrogations; tacticians are thinking of how to bypass the blockade. There are no howls about injustice or demands to surrender or negotiate. The life of a Salarian is quite short compared to other races. The Dreadnought will be blown up as soon as enemy boarding parties approach. The enemy must receive as little information as possible.
Salarians live shorter lives than the other Council Races, but they learn quickly and give their lives more easily for the good of their people. Such is our purpose, to serve the Dalatresses.
Performance at the expense of reliability. Power at the expense of safety. Espionage and the search for alternative solutions to bypass the straightforwardness of the Turians. To know everything and be prepared.
And then there are the Humans: dangerous, using their networks, and managing to find solutions. Not all of them, but eventually, the survivors retreated to point three. A remote world requiring a flight at the limit of their capabilities. But no one found them. It is likely that a temporary center will be deployed here while the search for another path continues.
The head of the STG was unpleasantly surprised:
"An Asari fleet. We could have slipped past, but now the Humans have established a tight blockade. A problem. They likely tracked the movements. They could be part of the Council of Matriarchs operation. We need more information."
Furthermore, one of the Escorts that had successfully slipped away from the Humans did not return. It definitely retreated; there was a signal. But then it vanished. Where and why is unknown. The Asari again, or is it the Humans?
One ship was left in orbit to monitor. Two were hidden on the planet. They needed to find a route to get out. And for that, they first had to lie low so as not to be found. Salarians are good at this, very good. Until one of their transmitters activated.
"It seems you have problems."
This caused a sharp reaction, as it was a short-range military channel. That meant the communication source was somewhere nearby, possibly on one of the ships. Perhaps they had been discovered. In that case, they needed to retreat. The commander gave the order to prep the ships.
"Who is this and what do you want?"
"The Shadow Broker. You are trapped here. But you are lucky; I know how to get out of here. All you need to do is enter into an agreement and fulfill it."
The crew exchanged looks. A trade of gestures led to the decision to find out what he wanted.
"We are listening."
"Then, what is required of you is..."
***
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