The avatar walked with a noticeable strain of its mechanisms through the dark halls of the ancient stasis complex. Dark halls, cut-through airlocks, traces of destruction in places. And yet, who if not I knows the value of such ancient mechanisms? I am one myself.
Not as the mistress, as it was on the Boundless Will, when my hologram strode through the empty, dead halls of the ship, but as an explorer. And it didn't matter at all that an arm was missing, a cheek was torn, part of the synth-muscles in the thigh were severed, and the torso had taken a beating. The Quarian Tali'Zorah had decided that all of me was concentrated in this one avatar, so she repaired it conscientiously, though without replacement parts, much couldn't be fixed. Until the plasma ran out, I wouldn't shut down.
EDI, also damaged, the scientist, and a couple of soldiers walked alongside. The rest were helping the wounded. The M12 Warthogs were occupied, though it would have been faster by vehicle—we had to walk almost ten kilometers. This place was very large. I wouldn't be surprised if in the future, after inspections, they organized a base in this complex, possibly even an ONI base. If desired, frigates could be hidden in these halls if the space was expanded slightly. The shielding was excellent; the operation of mechanisms was undetectable. Only if you knew where to hit.
Above our heads, outside the illuminated zone, was pitch blackness. The steady vibrations of the structure told a very unpleasant fact: it seemed the ships had decided to punch another entrance. And to destroy our defenses.
The bombing didn't start immediately; the enemy tried to drop two more batches of robots, unsuccessfully. After about an hour, small vibrations began to break through—they were bombing. After another three and a half, the vibrations became strong enough. I assumed the enemy wasn't sparing ammunition and explosives in their drive to pay us a visit. Unsuccessfully so far, but they were persistent. Sooner or later, they would dig their way in.
"They learned that from The Covenant," the soldier walking beside me agreed. "Good thing we're sitting in a bunker, otherwise they would have just wiped us from the air by now."
It wasn't necessarily learned from the Covies. Punching through a hundred or two hundred meters of soil with a MAC is not a problem if desired. Dirt is generally much less durable than ship armor, so drilling through is expensive but doable. Especially since ship combat requires a lot of explosives, fuel, and other things.
And now we listened to the steady thuds that made the hall shudder. The room where the first battles took place was urgently evacuated, the defensive line moved to the adjacent hall, preparing to go even deeper. Even if the enemy drilled one tunnel, they simply wouldn't have time for a second. Or they would run out of shells, which was also good.
But now we had a different task. They had found the pod with the Prothean. It was the only one in the complex that was active, connected to an ancient reactor complex. On what faith in the Emperor the reactor was running, I didn't know, but I was curious. Not because I hadn't seen such a thing (don't remember who lay inactive for 110 thousand years), but because the reactor was actually active, and technically it could differ from familiar mechanisms. So it was professional curiosity.
It lay in one of the far halls (there had been a door, but time had not spared it), where no one but the scouts had yet set foot. They had been searching for the pod all this time. Finally, we arrived; the escorts sat down, the soldiers simply sat, and the scientist collapsed where he stood, breathing heavily. There it was, the pod, lying against the wall, connected by a cable to the complex's internal systems.
The device was quite large, a cylinder three and a half meters long and one and a half in diameter. A seam was visible on the surface; energy flowed through the wires. Moreover, in the floor where the main cable ran, energy was not felt—also shielded. Likely another layer of protection against detection. I stopped at the black cylinder.
"EDI, is this it?"
The AI nodded with her platform.
"Yes, colleague. A standard Prothean stasis pod, active. According to my data, the pod was damaged and has also spent a long time connected to the system. Attempting transport is dangerous. I have the necessary data to initiate the extraction procedure."
I held her hand just as EDI was already reaching out.
"One moment, let me clarify this matter."
Switch to the Vice Admiral's office, recount the situation. Especially since while we were walking, a cave-in occurred in the defense hall. The Batarians had finally managed to widen the shaft and punch a larger hole for themselves.
We had evacuated the squad from that hall in advance, but the explosion of a rail shell destroyed everything left there, including the pods, partially collapsing the hall. There was a hole in the ceiling; the room's walls were tilted by about fifteen degrees. A significant pile of soil had poured through the hole, which would help the enemy drop troops without being under fire.
The enemy was about to start the attack. We still had the best positions, the shield generator, but in the current situation, there would be difficulties. If we talked the local Javik into it, it would be good.
The Vice Admiral listened, thought, and said:
"Extract him. We cannot allow the pod to fall into enemy hands or be damaged. Extract the Prothean, preserve the working pod. You need to hold out for another nine hours before the ship arrives and drives the enemy away. Is this feasible?"
My hologram in the Vice Admiral's office nodded.
"Of course. We have preserved our vehicles, we have the defensive advantage, and a massive bunker in which we can retreat for hours. The enemy has punched an entrance, but they are still limited by the lift, which we can blow up with some effort."
"Blow it up," Parangosky ordered. "Hold the line. Don't let me down."
The hologram deactivated, and I gave the order to blow it up through a minor AI. A minute later, with a loud clang and meaty thuds, the platform fell into the shaft, along with another robot and those preparing for the attack. Now they would have to lower cables or ships into the shaft, which meant we had time.
Now, the pod.
"EDI, command approval received. Extract the subject."
EDI nodded.
"I recommend stepping back. Protheans have a negative attitude toward Synthetics, and you stand out too much."
The avatar silently moved to the wall. I, mangled, one-armed, and leaking white fluid, was indeed too noticeable. Not to mention that I don't feel emotions, and Protheans sense that. An interesting mechanism for reading hormones, scents, and electronic brain signals of an opponent at a level inaccessible to Humans.
And inaccessible to me. I seriously suspect that I physically cannot interact with a Prothean beacon, as I have no nervous system. This is unpleasant, but also interesting. Since it's not very similar to Forerunner technology, but rather based on Prothean physiology.
The soldiers stepped back, ready for an attack, and EDI began working with the pod. Obviously, the sequence and general data for opening it were known to her from the last time.
We heard the distant clatter of a firefight; I confirmed that they repelled a landing attempt (the M12 Warthogs riddled a flyer trying to descend into the hole) while the pod still showed no signs of working. Finally, with a hiss, the upper half of the cell slid apart, revealing to us... not Javik. Not at all.
***
Bluish skin combined with a scarlet, shimmering chitinous exoskeleton. A wide, four-eyed head with a clearly visible metal headset. Much wider than Javik's, a meter in width.
A teardrop-shaped insectoid body covered in scarlet chitin and armor, a meter and a half in height. Four multi-jointed legs, the back ones sharp, the front ones more like sickles with spikes on the inner side. Along the body were six more limbs, shorter, but ending in two-fingered paws. And a very familiar rifle, consisting of two halves with a gap between them. A Forerunner Photon Rifle.
EDI backed away from the pod as the creature snapped its eyes open, lunging out of the pod to its full two and a half meters on its long legs. It looked around, clearly trying to grasp the situation.
"What an abomination," a soldier exhaled.
Another remained silent but backed away, keeping the creature in his sights. I could understand them; this was not a humanoid in the slightest, and those long, sharp limbs could very easily be thrust forward to pierce the soldiers' chests. Not to mention the Photon Rifle, which had cut through the armor of ancient Humans. The creature was covered in the green film of a biotic shield, but it wasn't attacking yet.
"Don't fire!" I ordered. "This beauty isn't an enemy. For now."
The creature examined everyone, glanced at me, and stopped its gaze on EDI, who was standing closest.
"Dae N'triskana. Vatehatrkh."
EDI sent a Prothean phrasebook via file. Authored by Dr. Liara T'Soni and the Salarian Milis, a linguist from Sur-Kesh, with corrections by Javik.
"Thank you."
Interesting. Communication in several ranges at once. Sound, radiation. Possibly scents or other chemistry. Yes, here, it's written about scents too. Perhaps there is also an effect on the brain, like their beacons. But without the right equipment, neither I nor EDI can read that at all. All together, it makes the capacity of our opponent's speech simply colossal.
"Disgust. Anger. Primitive creatures. Weak weapons. Fodder. Synthetics. Abomination. Servants or enemy? Answer!"
And that was only what I was able to perceive at all; part of the reactions I didn't record because I didn't know what I even needed to track. Presumably, the speech was much fuller.
At that moment, the hall shuddered slightly. Barely perceptible, but enough for our interlocutor to feel.
"What's that?" one of the soldiers asked.
I had robots in that area, which I had placed in a chain like relays.
"Another breakthrough attempt. Batar..."
At that moment, the Prothean lunged toward the soldiers, taking a burst on his shield, knocked the weapon away, and grabbed a head. I and EDI also fired a burst into the creature's back. It held the soldier for a couple of seconds and then remarked in general English:
"So, this tomb is being attacked by slavers. Synthetics serve, rather than fight against organics. Primitive weapons, the harvest has not yet begun. A strange time, but promising," the Prothean levitated toward me. "Stand up, mechanism. According to this creature's mind, you have information."
The avatar stood up; we had already stopped firing. It seemed the creature had read the soldier's cerebral cortex in seconds. And learned the language. I can't do that.
"I cannot transmit information into a brain."
The creature reacted.
"Races from the dead zone. I expected you to be more perfect. Chemical weapons with kinetic effects. How do you intend to survive the harvest with such tools?"
Interesting.
"Dead zone? What is that? And the harvest."
"The arm of the galaxy from which none returned. It does not matter. Report on the invasion. Immediately, mechanism."
Given that we could hear the shooting, the question was relevant.
"Archeologists' camp attacked by raiders. Three ships plus escorts. Retreated into the underground complex. Still a third of a standard day until our forces arrive. Bombing from orbit, storming where possible."
The giant froze for a few seconds, then noted in his hissing voice:
"Your place is in battle. Do not waste time, primitive creatures. Otherwise, you will be deemed cowards."
And, moving on all four limbs, he headed for the exit. EDI and I followed, and then the soldiers. One of them said quietly:
"I wonder, is this thing on our side?"
The "thing" replied without slowing its pace, widening the passage for itself with green-colored sorcery:
"We will destroy the attackers, then I need information on what is happening. Your brain is too simple for this. Food, not a warrior."
And he continued to move. I couldn't help but notice that the Photon Emitter was clearly familiar to this creature. Not a completely familiar model, but the design was very recognizable.
"Photon Emitter. From where?"
The creature slowed down, looking at me. After which it simply scooped me up with its paws. Apparently, the extent to which the avatar was damaged was preventing it from moving at the necessary speed.
"You are familiar with the weapons of those who came before us."
Not a question. A statement.
"Yes. I came from that era. Long-term hibernation. Longer than yours."
Now EDI was the one surprised.
"An AI from the pre-Prothean era? How did you not degrade over time?"
But the creature clearly appreciated it. I was still being carried, but quite carefully. Visually, it resembled a praying mantis clutching its prey, ready to bite its head off.
"We found their knowledge. They lost to a being endowed with unimaginable hunger, a perfect craver. Reliable ships and their knowledge passed through the ages. We took what we could understand. Too little to win."
The roar was approaching. Almost there. The ceiling took a heavy hit.
"And then the Reapers came?" EDI asked.
"Later. First, we made a mistake. The legacy was very complex. In technology and reproduction. In understanding. We gathered entire worlds of their technology and knowledge but could understand only a small part. But Element Zero was simpler. And, at first glance, no less effective. We chose it, built machines. And when the harvest began, we lacked the strength. It was too late to fix, no one left to study. The Reapers attacked the laboratory worlds first."
Lovely. So, the flying squids adapted for themselves or recycled everything the Protheans had gathered and couldn't understand. And they couldn't understand a lot. But the Protheans understood how to use a Photon Rifle and used it. And then we came to the defensive line.
As it turned out, our opponent had widened the hole. Part of the earth had poured inside, forming a mountain almost to the ceiling in the middle of the hall, which worked for the Batarians as cover and allowed them to land troops. Plus, instead of flimsy flyers, they had sent a full-fledged gunship into battle, which dies from M12 Warthog machine guns, but not nearly as quickly. We lost one vehicle; the second hid under the dome with a bunch of holes in its chassis.
The enemy had gained a bridgehead, and at the moment of our arrival, the gunship hanging under the ceiling was pouring streams of tungsten onto the shield, preventing anyone from sticking their head out from under it.
During our absence, the enemy had managed to dig in quite well below. My avatar was carefully placed against the wall, and EDI was pointed there as well.
"I, Yalorae, command. Mechanism—wait until I decide their fate; I need information. You—that is EDI—guard it. Await my return. Execute."
The others looked at each other and then at me.
"He intends to help us with the cleanup and he needs information. We don't mind," and I added to EDI over the channel, "as far as I know, he's quite strong, right?"
EDI also replied over the link, so only I understood, probably.
"This creature is much closer to the Husk-Praetorians. It should be very strong. Javik was combat-capable immediately after stasis."
We were about to find out. I remained standing as the avatar against the wall; I could still watch through the robots as our guest and the soldiers who reported him entered the ruined hall.
They approached the Human positions through the hole cut in the airlock.
If not for the Umbrella, there would be no survivors left. After all, the enemy had dragged a gunship, and possibly robots, into the hole. But the silver liquid dome was doing its job, taking the shells upon itself; the mountain prevented them from dropping low enough, as did the infantry's rockets. And metal doesn't damage it (the Umbrella's dome) as quickly as plasma would have evaporated it; the shield was holding well.
So the enemy had problems again, and they could only be solved by orbital bombardment after evacuating everyone, which we would have noticed. Plus, another problem. Further bombardment of the hall could lead to its destruction or collapse. And they were also broadcasting over the loudspeaker (with a noticeable accent, but in English):
"Humans! Surrender! You have no chance! You'll die from bullets or cave-ins. We need specialists; no one will punish you too severely. Or we'll just kill everyone! How long will you sit in that hole before your supplies run out? And what the hell are you?"
Yalorae lunged out from under the shield, glowing with green sorcery light. His front paws folded around the helmets of a pair of nearby enemies, very much resembling a mantis. A lunge, and kicking with his lower limbs...
The automatons rattled with gunfire; Yalorae shielded himself from the gunship using the Batarians. He was levitating, so his occupied front legs didn't hinder him. Furthermore, his six arms allowed him to maintain fire from behind this cover with his Forerunner Photon Rifle, literally slicing enemies in half.
"So that's the crap you dug up out there..." the gunship pilot remarked thoughtfully.
The pilot began backing the craft away, which wasn't easy given the cramped space. Then, another green flash slammed the gunship against the wall. Upon impact, the engine wailed, sparked, and died, and the machine itself fell onto a mound of shifting sand and rolled down. Having reached the base of the hill, the ship caught a rocket and exploded.
With the alien's appearance, the fire shifted toward him, allowing the Humans to launch a counterattack. A significantly battered M12 Warthog rolled out from under the dome, and the Marines emerged as well, providing covering fire. Everyone was perfectly content with the fact that the alien, protected by the dome and the bodies, was distracting the enemy.
And the enemy was rapidly running out. Without air support, the only machine gun left was ours. Or so we thought.
"Target. Locked."
The familiar howl of a quad-machine gun announced that the enemy did have a robot. A bipedal mechanism was climbing out from behind the hill with visible difficulty over the uneven, soft ground. Nearby, the Kodiak Shuttle that had delivered it took flight. Yalorae lunged sharply to the side while the robot, without the slightest piety, riddled the Batarians thrown at it with bullets.
The M12 Warthog's bullets struck it immediately, but the machine was sturdy enough not to fall apart instantly. Though the sparks showed that there were penetrations. The mech paused for a second, a rocket flew out of a tube on its roof, and our last jeep exploded. This delay was enough for Yalorae to shift even further into the machine's flank. If it started turning to follow him... The sloped, uncompacted earth was already an extremely unstable surface. For a heavy robot, it would be even worse.
It didn't fall. The legs were connected to the torso by a turntable; it simply rotated its chassis without moving its legs, but in doing so, it exposed its radiators to us. Everything we had was immediately hurled into them.
"Weak point—the rear!"
The Xeno continued to mow down the enemy infantry, combining melee and ranged combat. A transport attempting to take off suddenly suffered a gravitational shift in its engine and buried its nose in the ground, hitting the wall first. It didn't look heavily damaged, but the pilot climbed out of the hatch, shaking his head, and received his bullet.
It would have been a good time to call in an orbital strike on this location, but there were still problems with communications; the enemy didn't know what we were busy with here, for now. So, we dismantled the robot quite successfully. And when the Batarians ran out, we retreated quite briskly while waiting to see what would happen next. No sense in losing people.
The strike happened about five minutes later, when the enemy realized the ships weren't returning as they should. The sound came after the shot, and the shot itself was impossible to detect. One moment everything was fine, and a second later the mountain was scattered in all directions in a flash of an explosion. A wall of earth, stones, debris, a shockwave, and a roar covered the people and the dome. By the way, the absorbent composition of the soil clearly had a negative effect on the properties of the Umbrella, something to note for the future.
Stones, metal fragments, and mounds of soil struck the people's positions, not to mention that everyone was deafened, even while being in the adjacent room. But that wasn't all.
The next slug hit the roof of the hall, turning it into sharp supersonic shrapnel and causing collapses. For several seconds, the rooms were subjected to cave-ins; the door between the halls warped visibly, knocking out debris that struck the people.
The only reason almost everyone was still alive was that we had moved the defense line in advance to the hole cut in the airlock door. It provided most of the protection, though we were hit as well.
Finally, the shelling ended, and the people moved back to the other side of the door. To restore the position, to help the injured. The Umbrella seemed to be working, but intermittently; the dome had protected itself. The mechanism needed repairs too.
I had been busy transmitting Yalorae's information all this time. And when we were hit, the hall shook so hard that everyone fell. I don't like that grinding sound; if they continue to bomb the complex, it will simply fall apart from old age. The supports will give way, and the roof will fall on us.
What about Yalorae? Well, he took the bombardment calmly, and the information gathering occurred by touching a couple of archaeologists, soldiers, and based on that, he asked me:
"One of the two Protheans of the Empire. Too few to restore a civilization. Before making a decision, I will learn what is known to the Avatar of Wrath. For now, it is necessary to protect you, primitive life forms, and you, mechanism. You are useful, even if you are a mechanism. There is no taint of betrayal in you, and the harvest has not yet begun. There is time to prepare."
I nodded.
"Accepted."
A shriek rang out, and we all turned toward it.
"And what kind of Bosh'tet are you?" Tali had been almost forgotten, but she was here too.
She had been repairing a machine gun taken from the destroyed M12 Warthog with our technicians, and then she saw our insectoid friend.
She saw him, shrieked, and jumped back about three meters. She was pointing the barrel of her shotgun.
"Where did a Praetorian come from here?!"
Yalorae commented on this:
"Beautiful, but stupid, just like in our cycle," I wonder if I'm the only one who hears a certain sense of doom in his voice?
Tali continued to excitedly comment on the alien. So now everyone noticed him, even the wounded who hadn't done so before. I had to get their attention.
"This is Yalorae, a Prothean. Potentially an ally; right now, he also doesn't like dying from Batarians or shelling. Let's get back to work; we need to survive."
The Prothean himself was more interested in the data from the tablet. He was interested in everything. What remained of his people (The Hand knows, we'll soon have a whole club of forgotten cultures. Me, Drack, and now Yalorae), the modern political and military situation, including in the Dead Zone, as he called the Orion Arm.
From the explanations, it was clear that the Forerunners (and if not them, then who) had somehow blocked an entire galactic arm from travel. And they did it so that until recently, no one could fly in or out. The Protheans, at the peak of their civilization, controlled not only the Mass Relays but also, thanks to the Slipspace Drive, the galaxy for hundreds of light-years around them. But they were never able to enter the Dead Zone, though they tried in various ways.
The very fact of creating such a zone is interesting. Why and for what purpose, what exactly did the Forerunners hide here? When? Nothing but questions. But for now, we have more pressing problems.
The enemy just won't settle down. They tried to land shooters on the parapet, to launch another gunship into the shaft.
I don't want to know how much ammunition they spent to gouge out a hole two hundred meters deep. Stubborn guys. But every action takes time. Time until the ships arrive.
We are also running out of resources. Everyone is wounded or concussed in one way or another, ammo is low, and the enemy finally managed to break the Umbrella. Even Yalorae took a hit when the enemy managed to break through his shields.
It's a good thing the design of this place and the shafts prevents the Batarians from dropping large forces, otherwise we wouldn't be standing here. As it is, we destroyed two more robots; two halls were ground into gravel by orbital shelling. But we are still alive. Alive and fighting.
To ask why we fight is like asking why robots are better than humans. That's how reality is built. And also because the slavers must die. Almost there; our people have either arrived or are about to. A little more and we are saved.
When, instead of the angular machines of the Batarian Hegemony, a D77 Pelican descended carefully into the shaft, everyone sat down where they stood. Amidst the burning husks of vehicles, the dead and wounded from both sides, amidst the rubble and flames. The voice over the radio was equivalent to the coming of the Savior for the people:
"Hey, folks, you alive down there? We broke up the rally over your base, and you missed the fireworks. Tell me what you need, I'll pass it up."
"Alive," replied a wounded sergeant acting as a radioman and a turret, since he was legless, "damn, I thought this tomb would be our tomb too. We need medics. And beds. For everyone."
"Coming right up. Relax and enjoy the service," the pilot replied.
Vice Admiral Margaret Parangosky noted to the hologram:
"Your mission is complete. Well done."
***
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