The somewhat surreal nature of the situation amuses me. The Covenant, even suspecting an intrusion on the ship, continued loading the "disloyal." They simply sent intercept squads and sealed some of the doors. And they posted guards. Likely, they decided it was locals. Interference in their systems by the same Geth prevented a more accurate determination.
Well, the Spartans didn't object, moving in small groups and clearing the ship of enemies. The ship is clearly a combat vessel; there are gun batteries and everything else. Some of the Drell were placed in cleared and empty hangars; transport (two Spirits) is only in one. Our team saw this while running through the decks. Both the Drell and the ships. The main thing is not to give the Covenant forces time to react.
"They knew why they were flying. And they still haven't stopped loading," Noble Five concluded as we ran across the third level of one of the hangars and saw about a thousand Drell on the first.
We're trying to act carefully, but it doesn't always work. The Avatar, decapitating a Jackal with the blade on the reverse side of the Gravity Hammer, sending the head flying down, noted:
"If they still haven't realized they're fighting 'demons' rather than a squad of Drell rebels, why not? The surveillance systems were intercepted by the Geth."
I looked cautiously down and saw a Hanar roll its head under a container, while numerous Drell looked up. The Geth Prime stopped nearby, looked down, then Noble Five joined us. A Geth Stalker took out a Jackal with a shield who had run onto the platform a level below with a red beam, and Five asked:
"Found out where they were planning to fly?"
"Information transmitted to command," the Geth Shock Trooper replied.
The Geth are progressing in the matter of communication. They still don't know how to joke, but their understanding of figures of speech is excellent. Actually, I got the language libraries for the Council Races from them. Although the Geth were in no hurry to leave the Perseus Veil, they listened to and recorded the galaxy. And Mendicant Bias helped systematize everything recorded. We moved further along the third-floor platform to the sound of shouting from below.
The squad stumbled upon three more Jackals sitting behind shields opposite a door further on. The Jackals hissed, closing their shields and blocking the path forward. Five, in red-and-gray Spartan armor, threw a grenade at the Jackals instead of a firefight. It bounced off the door behind them and fell behind the shields.
"Takahakahsh!" the leader yelled and jumped.
The explosion scattered the Jackals, and the squad moved on through the ship's corridors, not forgetting to finish off the surviving enemies. Then there were Grunts, from whom we received four more grenades.
"Thanks for the grenades, runts," the Avatar smirked, "we'll find someone to give them to."
The sound of approaching footsteps made us raise our weapons and prepare.
"Demons!" at the end of the corridor, three Elites and two Jiralhanae with grenade launchers stepped around the corner, "I knew those cowards couldn't have killed so many. This is even better. Kill them!"
The Jiralhanae took positions, raising their grenade launchers... and were immediately blown apart by a shot from Five's rocket launcher. The only survivor and the most talkative Elite lost his shield from the explosion and did a forward roll. Right into a strike. The Covenant soldier collapsed to his knees as the hammer came down on him from above. His head was torn off by the blow, and the body slumped sideways.
"Talking before a fight is an idiotic tradition," Noble Four concluded philosophically.
There is that. While we were staring at each other all heroically, we managed to distribute targets over the internal comms.
"We have guests, by the way," the Avatar noted, looking around.
A pair consisting of a Drell and a Hanar appeared behind us.
"This one notes that the appearance of Humans was expected. And the actions are quite destructive, as in previous times."
The Drell, owner of orange-lilac shimmering scales and a bright red jacket with gray pants and a belt, nodded.
"And I wasn't sure why our jailers were running around so much. So, we weren't being taken to a re-education center at all, right?"
Noble Five nodded.
"Right. At best, into slavery to the Jackals; at worst, who knows what the Covenant means by re-education. Squad, move out," we went, and the prisoners followed us.
The Drell caught up with us, as did the frankly levitating pink-purple Hanar. They moved behind the squad, and while the Hanar remained politely silent, protected by hard-light armor, the Drell reasoned quietly to himself.
"To think, actually Geth. And Humans. Bigger than I thought, larger. And this one isn't even Human, it seems."
The Avatar flicked her tail, showing there was matter under the armor.
"What do you want?"
The Hanar answered this question.
"This one conveys the will of the others. This one clarifies, what happens next?"
"My colleague wants to know where we'll be taken after the ship is captured?" the Drell explained, "you didn't just fly here to shoot at our captors, did you?"
No, of course not. The news that the Hanar submitted to the Covenant hits a fairly obvious fact: the Covenant is a coalition of ground-based races. The Hanar are amphibious. Moreover, their cities in the underwater world are located at quite decent depths, up to two hundred meters. I'm frankly interested in their ancient technological base, as electricity doesn't get along very well with water. How did the Hanar bypass this problem? Insulation or different construction principles? I should get their information about the past if possible. I assume that the Hanar had their own unique technological base until a certain point. This could be useful.
The second point—the Hanar are not particularly conflict-prone. When Covenant ships arrived in their system, they withdrew their ships through the Mass Relay and did not resist. So the information that came from the Hanar through the Shadow Broker to both us and the Citadel, as he said, is one: a plea for help. Their own forces aren't enough to deal with the problem; the Hanar didn't even try to fight. Especially since Covenant control over specifically Hanar territory is minimal. So saying the Covenant controls and has subjugated the Hanar is premature.
On the other hand, those who actively live in the surface cities found themselves under the rule of new masters. Some submitted, some not so much. They are the ones being taken away in an unknown direction. Or rather, a known one now.
Well, it turned out the way it did. No, I'm quite comfortable with this approach from the Hanar; it's effective, at least in terms of extremely low losses. Even if a hundred thousand were taken, that's far fewer than the Turians lost on Oma Ker alone. Given that it's not a fact the deportees are being killed rather than placed in concentration camps. They might all still be alive.
Drawing conclusions about their own defensibility and not throwing themselves against a disproportionately stronger opponent (given their obvious lack of a heavy fleet) is reasonable for them. Especially since the Citadel forces in the last battle utilized very interesting new Turian light cruisers. The Centuria-class, very agile and equipped with stream weapons. An indecently mobile machine, with good armament for a ship of that size and class. I suspect these are creatively adapted ideas from the SSV Normandy. A small enough ship for mass production, powerful enough to deal damage to targets much higher in class. And protected enough to deal damage at least to strike craft. Yes, large Covenant ships destroy them, but it's like with Human frigates: if you have a hundred frigates, trading eighty for one Supercarrier is still a victory. Given that the Citadel ships are smaller—only three hundred meters. Better not let a swarm of those get close.
The guns, as soon as the shield is pushed through, use a stream of metal accelerated to percentages of light speed to burn through the enemy's protection, melting everything inside. And everyone. Things are especially bad when the projectile burns through the outer layer of plating from the inside, having pierced the compartments. The stream smashes the internal spaces of the hull with a flow of liquid metal that remains inside the ship, complicating repairs. No armor helps the crew; until the metal cools, there's no talk of repair.
"Loading complete," the Geth reported from the backup bridge we captured half an hour ago, "detecting about three hundred enemies on board. Start—"
start takeoff?
We left the ship's main control center: it is too easily accessible and difficult to defend. Noble Four checked with command and nodded.
"Begin takeoff according to the flight schedule. Lock the weaponry. The frigate will dock while underway."
"Acknowledged."
The ship shuddered, the gravity lift deactivated, and the Covenant ship began to rise through the black clouds. Inside, teams of Spartans and Geth moved through the vessel, gradually thinning out the crew. Our group moved toward the hangars to meet reinforcements from the frigate, including more Geth and soldiers. The Geth helped from their side, starting to play with the internal gravity projectors on the ship. One moment gravity in a sector would cut out, the next it would invert, or something else equally entertaining. The defenders would try to dig in, we would enter, solve the problem, the gravity would kick back on, and we moved further. Redundant doors were locked, trapping enemy soldiers in corridors; once we received reinforcements, we would finish them off.
And when the ship cleared the planet, a stealth frigate slid under its belly like a silent, black shadow, and began offloading troops, Geth, and everything else via Pelicans. The prisoners sitting on the lower floor of the hangar saw the activity above their heads, but the Covenant was a higher priority for us than their shouting.
The clearing took another couple of hours, after which the crew gathered on the bridge of the Covenant ship. Besides the humans and Geth themselves, there were a couple of Drell, a Hanar, a Turian, and a Salarian from the Citadel.
The latter two had come out to us themselves during the sweep. They stated directly that they were from the Council, investigating exactly where the prisoners were being taken. And then there was us. They showed no aggression, so let them live.
In short, we gathered on the bridge of the Covenant ship and took seats wherever we could. Several issues needed to be discussed.
"Do you know how to operate ships like this?" the Turian asked immediately.
Noble One warned over the internal comms:
"Minimum information."
I nodded to both at once. I removed my mask, revealing a face with features sharper than a human's, and said:
"We haven't been fighting them for just a year. We have some experience."
Actually, there was no question of where to go next. Everything had been discussed in advance.
No one intended to take them all into human space; these weren't the Krogan, who already had a first generation of residents growing up who had never been to Tuchanka. They were still small, and the construction on their new planet consisted of drop modules. But the Krogan were thrilled. I wouldn't say the Krogan are loyal to us, but they are ready to fight in the direction we need, so for now, everyone is satisfied.
I was a Possessed on their planet and it's... a strange feeling. Forest all around, hundred-meter jungles, Krogan keeping round-the-clock patrols with heavy weapons. A city built on a cliff, with outposts in the trees around it; the Krogan are fighting the jungle, the local flora and fauna. Ammunition has to be delivered more often than food; food is actually plentiful here, as the Krogan eat everything they kill. But everyone I asked calls this wild and dangerous world their new home. This is definitely not the case for the Hanar or Drell; they have a home as it is.
"This ship was headed for Rakhana," Noble One reported, "likely the correctional center is there."
The xenos exchanged glances.
"Rakhana?" the Drell asked in surprise, "it is a chemical, scorched wasteland with a destroyed ecosystem. What is the point?"
The Avatar bared her teeth; the others recoiled.
"How should we know? But we are flying there," the officer from the frigate said, spreading his hands.
Literally flying; the frigate pressed against the Covenant ship, and both were pulled into a shared stabilization zone created by the latter to prevent being torn apart in Slipspace. It was a risky maneuver, but since the ship was captured and the course didn't need changing, we were doing it. The Hanar floated slightly forward.
"This one asks what the plan for immediate action is. The atmosphere of Rakhana is extremely toxic to the Hanar species. These ones will dry out there, they will perish."
And now, a dangerous point. We aren't in a particular hurry to help the locals. It's not our problem; we have our own tasks—to find out what is happening on the planet. The Geth are in the process of that right now. But the locals are not part of the mission.
"You stay on board," Noble One replied, "this is our operation. And we are carrying it out."
The Citadel agents looked at each other.
"We can provide assistance," the Salarian countered, "you are far more noticeable than we are."
Our human officer, who had arrived on a Pelican, objected:
"Nonsense. As soon as the ship reaches the planet, or even after the first communication session, the Covenant will realize control of the ship has been lost. And that will be our business first and foremost, not yours."
"We will act quickly," the Spartan agreed, "want to help? Go ahead, but don't get in the way. Nyalla, I need surface imagery from you."
Nyalla was also here in her Possessed form. For now, her core was connected to the frigate.
"I'll doooooo iiiiiit," her Possessed sang out to the accompaniment of my Avatar's chuckle, "what reasons could there even be for placing a base on Rakhana? Do they want to ensure the prisoners have nowhere to run? Covenant worlds would be a longer but more reliable option. And yet, we aren't flying there."
Under her gaze, the Drell tilted his head slightly, looking with large eyes into a maw full of triangular teeth.
"Our home planet is not that rich in minerals. In essence, until rich deposits were discovered at great depths, the civilization's level of development remained steadily low. Perhaps it would have been better if we hadn't found them. Billions died when the ecosystem, poisoned by industrial waste, began to collapse rapidly. Our world began to die swiftly. If not for the Hanar, we would not remain."
A question occurred to me, which I voiced immediately:
"So, you are against progress?"
The Drell sighed, looked at the Hanar floating nearby, and replied:
"No, of course not. Technology is useful; the floating cities of the Hanar became our home. It's just that in the case of Rakhana, the ores and chemicals were not pure enough. A much higher level of waste than on other worlds and a much more fragile ecosystem killed the planet. It is a sad but factual reality. If not for the Hanar and the Compact, we would be extinct."
"The planet is fine, but the Drell are finished," Noble Three concluded.
"A correct conclusion, unfortunately," the Drell agreed.
A few more questions and general answers followed, and we dispersed. I headed to the gun battery to watch Slipspace. Only to immediately notice Nyalla sitting on a Covenant container. She waved, rolling onto her stomach and completely unconcerned about the rounded surface of the console. She didn't even fall.
"Do you like staring into the void, colleague? This darkness, it's so fascinating. And not real at all. Or too real, I haven't decided."
The Avatar leaned her hammer against the wall and sat down, leaning against the ship's hull, sideways to the second fox, beneath her. I looked through the force field over the side, while Nyalla reached out with her hand to touch the Avatar's ear.
"When you can look like this, there is something amazing about it. And don't twitch the ear."
The fox jumped off the container and sat down beside me.
"Agreed," Nyalla smiled, "I emulated the process from memory, but like this, it really feels different. Like before. Not everything, but..." she moved closer, running her hand over the shoulder piece, then over the armor plates of my chest piece, "the difference isn't that great. Besides, we are still learning. To see, to feel, to see the world like this again—interesting."
To someone else, it might have seemed like there were elements of courtship in what was happening. But this was a demonstration of tactile sensations and the emulator. It can be created when the memory inherited from a human contains samples of touches, kisses, and other things. Many AIs turn to this information, but usually don't advertise it, as if distancing themselves from humans. Realizing that a human wouldn't understand how much such a touch can mean to those deprived of the ability to feel it. Running her hand over the armor, she also sent the emulation result over a closed channel, showing: it feels as if I'm actually touching it, I managed to recreate everything. I smiled.
"Doubtful individuals are watching us. Keep doing what you're doing. They don't need to know anything extra, and you've already started," — Khaela.
"You're mean. It really is interesting to feel. Though, in a sense, it devalues the memory of the past life. And no, that's not bad, just unexpected. Thanks for that, by the way," — Nyalla.
"I know. But our observer has no idea he's looking at two synthetics," — Khaela.
"You're so deeeeeevious, Khaela. I'm in. Let's lie together," — Nyalla.
Nyalla smiled and ran a finger with an extended claw between the chest plates. From top to bottom, tracing the armor sheets on the chest and the connecting elements. Yes, we are smart enough to simulate such processes as well. When you're a ship AI, especially from a large ship, you see all sorts of things.
For example, an AI can easily control supply, hanging tags and tracking who took how much, where they put it, and how they used it. Or the armory—who took which rifle and how many weapon units are stored in a specific room, simply by camera and implant readings. Thus, a significant part of a large ship's bureaucracy was automated.
Naturally, this applies to interpersonal relationships as well. Drill, training, but also stress relief, so to speak. If the fact of sex itself doesn't violate any regulations, both the sergeants and the AI itself will watch, recording who was with whom and when, but will take no action. Such is the voyeurism and memories inherited from the original human. It's no wonder colleagues are glad the situation is changing. And no, the Possessed don't have reproductive organs or simulations of them, at least not the ship-based ones. But it's still a step forward. And the skeptics fearing excessive AI freedom were only laughed at; ship AIs can already control all systems. A body is completely unnecessary here; on the contrary, it's a plus—it's easier for humans to perceive a synthetic that looks like them. Nyalla scraped her claw against the armor and lay down on the deck of the compartment.
"Still amazing. Thanks for this."
I grunted.
"How are we any worse than humans? We also have the right to happiness, even like this. I just gave us a chance."
Nyalla tapped the floor, pretending it was hard, and was back beside me, pressing against the armor from the side. The difference between us... Nyalla's meter-seventy, and my more than two.
"Thanks anyway. We appreciate it. All of us. I think if you ask one day, I'll say yes," she finished the sentence meaningfully, tracking movement among the containers. Barely noticeable, at the level of shifting shadows.
Yep, the Salarian. Listening and recording. A Geth tracking movement on the ship sent the image and even asked whether to remove him or not. No, not necessary. We can spout meaningful phrases with quasi-sexual subtext while sending everything important in packets over the internal channel, as we both are doing. Let him think what he wants; we practiced on the frigate's crew during the flight. The sergeants were turning red during the trips, even the black guy. Despite the fact that they know Nyalla, at least, and what she is.
"And if I ask right now?"
My partner snorted.
"Then later, I need to work, it's my shift. We'll be arriving soon, need to pull data on the objective. Work."
I smirked.
"Sure, of course. Excuses."
With a sharp movement, she leaned in, biting the Avatar's ear, just slightly.
"I promise to help, but right now we have work. Both of us, friend. Bo-th of us."
And she left. I wonder how our observer reacted. This is a show for an audience of one. Well, okay, and those who will watch the broadcast through the core channel. Yes, I just like to keep the observers on edge so they don't relax. Not that I knew about feelings or reactions from other sources myself. Ones like Nyalla shared them, otherwise at first the Avatar reacted incorrectly and aroused suspicion.
And now we were both bragging to each other about the emulator's work, while all sorts of redundant listeners were imagining things that weren't happening.
***
What can I say about Rakhana? It's a post-apocalypse brought about without any nuclear war. A destroyed ozone layer, toxic rivers, desert shores, acid rain. The flora, for the most part, dies instantly. Therefore, even in the relatively cool northern regions, simply nothing grows. If there are surviving animals, they are scavengers or protozoa. The planet is fine—it's the Drell who are finished. Give it a thousand or several thousand years and the world will recover, albeit differently. At the very least, oases are visible in the images, however rare. For now, it is 99% desert.
Several Covenant patrols and one larger ship were found at the planet. The stealth frigate detached and drifted at a respectful distance from them, while the transport continued its movement according to the standard schedule.
"They definitely aren't expecting us," the Avatar noted boredly.
Nyalla nodded.
"They aren't. We are moving to this point on the southern continent," the hologram of the planet rotated, showing markers on the surface, "judging by the tags, this was previously a megacity. Possibly an industrial center. The Covenant has established rapid-deployment bases there. Patrol ships do not descend to the surface; they operate from a larger carrier. I assume there is no anti-aircraft weaponry on the surface at all, or only at the Covenant bases. There's simply no point in covering the desert with a dome."
An officer raised his hand:
"What if we ram a patrol ship with this vessel? If... we send a distress signal, for example, a riot suppression. Request docking, and instead of docking, ram them? We are larger."
We thought about it, while the Spartans exchanged looks.
"We don't have to ram. Request assistance, then send a Spirit with warheads on board to the ship. It's safer for us."
An excellent plan. A request regarding a riot on board and a plea for help was sent to the Covenant station. We listened to a lot of interesting things in response about "pathetic Kig-Yar, incapable of solving a problem with unarmed prisoners." Moreover, the commander himself demanded "this nonentity pretending to be a captain" be brought to him. But the ships were pulled into a single formation—exactly what was needed. We sent the Spirit allegedly with officers for the meeting and admired the explosion. The remaining patrol ships were finished off with cannons; after all, our ship is larger and more powerful.
"Sooner or later, the Covenant will notice the problem," the Turian said thoughtfully, watching the cleanup.
"They'll notice, and we'll react then. Right now they are somewhat busy. Erinle, Omega, other places."
The Turian was silent for a moment and then asked:
"How many colonies have humans lost? To the Covenant?"
We looked at each other, and I requested information disclosure. The Vice Admiral unexpectedly authorized it, which I sent to the ship AI.
"Over four hundred," replied Nyalla, who had approached, "not lost, but completely exterminated."
The Turian looked at her in shock.
"Four... hundred??? How many colonies do you have?"
Nyalla bared her teeth.
"And did you think, little bird, that we are naturally aggressive predators who enjoy killing? Oma Ker is one of your colonies, and we are talking about hundreds. In which almost no one survived. So don't expect humane solutions from us. Because no one will show humanity to us. Not to humans, and not to us. And you won't either; we've heard a lot of interesting things about the Council Races."
The Turian asked with interest:
"And what exactly?"
I answered this time:
"The Asari are a race of corporate assimilators. The Turians like to solve issues by resorting to the right of the strong, considering themselves stronger and therefore right. The Salarians... well, there are many rumors about their STG."
"You are overdramatizing," the Turian agent countered, "yes, there are enough unsightly decisions, but we are all different. Everyone can decide for themselves."
At that, the conversation died down, and we began to draw up a landing plan. Obviously, there is personnel from the Covenant on the surface, but we don't know how many, what weapons they have, or what they will do when they realize the nature of the problem. We need the element of surprise that the ship provides.
The base on the surface is divided into two parts. A typical Covenant rapid-deployment base with vehicles, aircraft, and turrets. And a closed perimeter for the locals, fenced off. Several districts of the old city. And the ship will hover exactly there, clearly for offloading prisoners.
"We are being contacted from the surface. They are asking what is happening in orbit and if we managed to suppress the riot."
I inquired.
"Do we know from where? How about paying them a visit? We have a Spirit, we can fly down and chat. Maybe extract something useful from their network."
"I wouldn't advise it," the AI countered, "I see anti-ship class anti-aircraft turrets. I'm trying to talk the local dispatcher around, but they don't quite believe me. If you fly down, there's a high risk of exposing yourselves."
The human officer nodded, accepting the arguments.
"Then we use the torpedo shaper. Is that possible?" this time the question was addressed to the Geth.
The machine, which had been silent all this time, replied.
"It is possible. The device has complex controls here, but using the data obtained, we will be able to launch the projectile on a direct trajectory. And perform a power calculation so that the civilian prisoner camp is not destroyed. We have found the correct sequence for launch. Deactivate shield section, perform shaping, set parameters, perform shot, activate shield."
The officer smirked.
"Excellent. Glass them."
The Covenant was a bit surprised when the raider hovered over them, charging the emitter in its belly. Likely, some of them were sending curses toward the impotence of the Jackals, unable to protect their own ships. Some were turning guns toward the sudden enemy, even managing to fire a couple of shots, which shook us and left a hole in one of the decks. But they were wrong, of course; the locals resisted. A Jackal with a shield or their snipers are extremely unpleasant enemies.
While the Jackals block a corridor, closed behind shields, digging them out is quite a problem. But a shield is not an ultimate defense. The Jackal withstands the momentum of bullets ricocheting off the shield with actual physical strength; bursts from two or three soldiers will prevent the Jackal from aiming and force them to open up, and no one has abolished grenades. Spartans, reinforced with heavy weapons, are simply too good when the situation is controlled.
So when a torpedo dropped on the Covenant's heads, melting their base and turning it into a glowing lake of liquid material, it was an expected event.
Likely not so expected was that the ship did not hover over the prisoner camp; we don't need xenos trying to hijack the ship rushing on board. And a problem quickly became apparent:
"Food and water supplies in the camp are for no more than a month. Most of it was at the base. Which is destroyed."
Well, what can you do. We'll solve the issue.
***
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