Khar'shan is the cradle of the Batarian people and the brilliant capital of the Hegemony. An ancient world shrouded in a veil of mystery and a haze of lies. Pirate raids and propaganda have made the planet a pearl, home to four billion Batarians and eleven billion slaves, who are obliged to ensure the comfort of the brilliant lords from ancient lineages, descendants of the highest castes.
As soon as a traveler entered the glorious city of Bag'ra from the spaceport, he was presented with such riches that he could not believe his eyes. A fairy tale and a cascade of adventures awaited those who were ready to take risks and had a thick wallet to open the gates of Simiram, the former quarter of the highest caste.
Poems and legends were composed about the Batarian nights on Khar'shan. Here, cunning and lies, courage and honor, palaces and poverty intertwined, but it was worth remembering that poison and daggers promised death at every step on the streets of the ancient city. Therefore, a walk through the local bazaars could either make a traveler rich, giving him exotic items for free that could no longer be found anywhere else, or become the last in his life if he was yawning and careless.
Only here could one experience the poverty of the slave quarters and the splendor of fashionable villas, taste the most exquisite food or be poisoned to death by cheap fast food, experience the delights of courtesans' work, and then die in a ditch without a couple of organs. Everything was bought and sold here, even if the sale contradicted all known laws of the Citadel. Especially if it contradicted the laws created on a distant ancient station.
For centuries, the palace of the Hegemon shone above all this magnificence, looming over the capital with its elegant white mass, blinding at sunset with the gold of its spires. Even cataclysms and adversities were powerless over the domain of the rulers. Slaves will die, giving all their juices, brilliant lords will rest in their tombs, enemies will appear, only to inevitably fall, even the marble of the palace will one day turn to sand under the action of time, but the Hegemony will live forever.
Even now, when unknown armadas have invaded the high domains of the smartest and wisest race in the galaxy, its light is not in a hurry to sprinkle ashes on its head, fully confident in the impregnability of the star system.
What is there to fear if, from the orbits of the relay to the close approaches to the planet, the entire cosmos is literally strewn with defensive satellites and guard fort-stations? Especially when a quarter of the fleet, and the most combat-capable at that, is frozen in a defensive formation, already ready for battle? Even the Hierarchy will break its mandibles against such defenses! Therefore, for the luminaries of the Batarian race, absolutely nothing has changed.
After two days from the beginning of the intervention on the capital world, even law enforcement agencies were not put on high alert. Why? The fleet is more than enough, and even then the ships only moved away from the berths to calm down ordinary citizens. An attack is not expected soon. Without a relay, it takes a week to reach the capital system...
"...the enemy will be defeated and destroyed!!!" the Hegemon proclaimed loftily to the applause of the offspring of noble families who honored his palace on the third day from the beginning of the invasion. Custom required their presence during the address of the ruler of the Hegemony to the nation. Among the ancient lineages were pirate barons, mercenary commanders, and leaders of the criminal world, who came here to confirm agreements and extort additional payment for their services – after all, war is war, but credits are separate!
The ruler was not destined to finish his speech. As soon as the ovations died down, and the Hegemon took a breath to continue reciting the speech specially written for him, the alert system of the entire palace complex came to life. Dryly, the loudspeakers chimed, broadcasting an indifferent, official voice with a slight accent:
"In the name of the law, by the decision of the People's Court, for complicity in slavery and other crimes against the person, all present are sentenced to death."
The last word echoed through the suddenly silent luxurious corridors of the Hegemon's palace.
Silence reigned – but only for a second. Feeling completely unpunished and protected by his bodyguards, after a moment of stupor, the Hegemon laughed, about to order the palace guard to find and punish the impudent person who had made such a tasteless joke – when a weightless shadow swooped down from the ceiling behind him, quietly sliding down a cable.
The bodyguard to the right of the Hegemon was lucky. A humming and buzzing two-handed sword, radiating heat, flashed like a scythe of death, cutting off their heads, sawing through their spinal columns with chaotically moving segments. The composite blade flashed its blue light for only a moment, drawing a beautiful arc that ended a dozen lives at once.
The ruler's guards to his left were unlucky. Obeying the wave of the warrior's armored hand, a press of invisible energy descended upon them. With a deafening crunch of bones, the trained professionals were literally rolled into compact balls, and, to the horror of those gathered in the hall, some of their victims were still alive. Their screams became the trigger for panic.
With a lightning-fast movement of his leg clad in blued steel, Plutonium, who did not hide and did not hide his face behind a mirrored visor, knocked the Hegemon to his knees, breaking his supporting limbs, bending them outwards at the knees. As soon as the condemned by the people's tribunal screamed, the blow of a steel boot landed on his face, breaking his jaw and knocking the ruler of destinies onto his back.
The left hand of the commander of "Argentum" made another pass. An invisible telekinetic grip pulled the Hegemon towards Nechaev. His fingers, with a wet crack, entered the Batarian's eye sockets. Under the vigilant eye of the cameras, which were now broadcasting the execution not only to the star system but also to the entire Hegemony and Citadel Space, he ripped out the eyes of the one who considered himself immune. Throwing them under his feet, Plutonium stepped on them, crushing them with a wet squelch.
Telekinesis again. The Hegemon, howling in pain, soared, his screams filling the hall. The blade sang softly as it entered his body. Slowly, unhurriedly, the weapon, rumbling and ringing, crawled upwards. The smell of burnt bone, boiling blood, and burning flesh filled the air. Pungent blood splashed the surroundings for several meters forward.
The contents of his intestines, which instantly boiled, burst out of his stomach, literally exploding it, adding more miasma to the air.
By some miracle, the Hegemon was still alive. In skilled hands, the weapon turned into an executioner's tool, preventing him from dying easily.
Having almost sawed the body in half, Nechaev sharply pulled the sword towards himself, cutting off the head, and simultaneously tore the flesh into two parts with telekinesis, tearing the arms and legs from the mutilated torso, completing the most terrible execution according to Batarian customs, with which they executed the leaders of slave rebellions.
"We are not executing, but administering justice! Taste your own medicine, bitches..." Plutonium gritted out through his teeth, ignoring the bullets hitting his energy shield.
Two more weightless shadows fell from the ceiling. In their somewhat abrupt movements and blackened bodies, one could recognize the Awakened – machines in whose iron bodies dwelled the dead, who decided to risk posthumously for the continuation of service for the good of the USSR. In the spotlight, scarlet stars flashed. The emblem of "Argentum" shone with silver.
Mechanical hands synchronously brought heavy machine guns into combat position. The good old "fourteen and five" became a medicine for oppressors. Bursts from two barrels tore bodies, tore off limbs, delivering a bloody, but so necessary judgment.
The commander did not lag behind his dead soldiers. Two polymer blades left swathes in the panicking crowd. A mask of humility was frozen on his face. He did not enjoy the massacre. The sounds of death and agony will haunt him in nightmares until his last breath, but the Red Army soldier will perform his duty as many times as the Fatherland wishes.
No matter how many times the monsters of past eras return, only one thing awaits them – death. Even after years, the silver emblem will evoke unearthly horror in all those who have decided to build their world on the pain of others.
They are not heroes. They are executioners. The first bastion of the USSR in a universe where darkness reigns. Warriors who fight in the abyss with means that would drive an ordinary person insane. Operatives carry this horror so that others can live in the light and never know the horrors and filth of war.
And today, "Argentum" once again delivered judgment. Gunshots and screams echoed throughout the palace. The fighters acted as one organism, clearing out all those marked by Nemesis...
A cascade of explosions swept across the planet, catching ordinary viewers, who watched the execution broadcast on the blue screens in shock, off guard. It dawned on everyone instantly: it didn't matter who you were... Rich, poor, pirate, clerk, woman, or teenager — it didn't matter. What mattered was that if you were a slave owner, they had already come for you.
On the distant Citadel, the inhabitants were divided into three camps. The first applauded standing. The second, and they were the majority, vomited from horror and disgust in the most unpretentious way. The "beams of good" particularly spread when the contents of the Hegemon's stomach soiled one of the cameras. The third either froze from the same horror or erupted in angry shouts. One thing became clear: "Greetings from the USSR" left no one indifferent.
In these moments, Councilor Thevos experienced complex feelings. The dominant one was disgust. As an Asari diplomat, she had seen terrible things in the conflict zone, but it was one thing to see them afterward, and quite another to see them in progress. The second was relief. She hadn't had time to eat lunch due to the affairs that had fallen upon her. The third was the understanding that the situation had become simply catastrophic!
Glancing at Viridia, the matron saw in her eyes the glimmers of solemn solidarity and approval, even though the grimace on the Turian's face was somewhat disgusted. The former admiral approved of the result, even if she winced at the sight of the process. That was a catastrophe for the Asari!
"Gods! We need to send diplomats to these people immediately! We must be the first. Even if we don't manage to negotiate, we need to create a wedge between the two militarists! I wouldn't be surprised to learn that applause is thundering throughout the Hierarchy right now! The Hegemony is not only their antipode but simply an enemy for every legionary, and here someone just came and, without attempting to negotiate or resolve it peacefully, ground them to dust! If they unite, then we can forget about a peaceful and enlightened galaxy! Not even the Krogan will stop this monster. They will even join this nightmare! Now even the Rachni seem harmless against this... elemental force of destruction." — it flashed through her mind as she urgently typed a draft order for the diplomatic group.
The Salarian councilor, watching the execution, merely thought: "Very interesting technologies." He knew perfectly well that the STG on Hegemony territory would soon try to seize a couple of interesting specimens. The war itself was uninteresting to him. War does not bring knowledge, but only leads to its loss. His people use the wars of others, but never start them themselves. Why rattle weapons when you can use the power of your mind, as with the Krogan?
He, like many of his compatriots, greedily absorbed every detail of the space battle that unfolded near the orbit of Khar'Shan. The scientists' guesses were confirmed — the USSR did not use mass effect for movement. What was considered pseudoscience a moment ago had now become an undeniable fact...
The first blow to the Hegemony fleet was not delivered by cannons or lasers. The ships rushing to the planet to avenge their Hegemon were attacked... by ordinary asteroids.
As if out of nowhere, a meteor swarm burst into the system. Iron-nickel blocks, accelerated to monstrous speeds, traced fiery trails through the minefields. Explosions scattered the cosmic wanderers, but could not stop the rushing stones. They broke through the second line of defense, crushing satellites, crippling stations, tearing through the armor of warships, sending them into oblivion.
The Union fleet immediately rushed into the breached gap. In bloody flashes, four giants appeared out of nowhere. These were colossi, giants, in whose main caliber guns a raider could easily fit. Monsters the size of half the Citadel, created not only for repairing ships in their colossal bellies but also for destroying enemies.
The main caliber guns, grouped in threes, unleashed self-destruction. The Hammer of the Motherland descended upon the Batarians. Flashes of flame engulfed several Hegemony battleships, leaving nothing of them. Reality itself distorted for fractions of a microsecond, erasing mighty machines. Fiery flowers bloomed hundreds of kilometers, collecting a bloody tribute for the merciless cosmos.
The giants' mechanisms came to life, turning their monstrous barrels for a new salvo. New flashes tore through the darkness of the vacuum. Deadly buds bloomed again in the enemy's ranks.
The Batarians, recovering from the initial shock and losses, did not sit idly by. Dispersing, they rushed at the ships of retribution in a scattered formation. Yes, the enemy ships were monstrous, but the elite of the Hegemony fleet had gathered here. The enemy would not be able to repeat the sudden crushing blow.
Thousands of torpedoes rushed into a deadly flight, eager to bite into the armored sides of the giants. A curtain of fire rose to meet them. Hundreds of corvettes, having made a warp jump, opened a barrage of fire from their pulse lasers. Laser trails crossed space like rain in the spotlight, creating an insurmountable wall.
Battleships entered the fray behind the corvettes. Their shortened guns also carried death and destruction, but a single hit could not disable a Hegemony-class ship. Two or three hits were required to destroy them.
An artillery duel began. Heavy guns conversed with thunderous roars, interspersed with daring attacks by cruisers. Fighters slipped through the combat formations, trying to strike the most vulnerable spot.
The guns of the orbital stations joined the battle, taking on the blows intended for the ships. Two armadas exchanged terawatts of destructive energy, but neither could gain an advantage. The battle would subside, then flare up with renewed vigor as the fleets regrouped.
There were more Hegemony ships, their battleships fired more often, while on the side of the Red Fleet was training, coordination, and the power of Soviet science, with the unity of every sailor and officer on the decks and bridges.
Gradually, the battle shifted towards the atmosphere of the capital world. With a surge, the Union frigates broke through the Hegemony formation, allowing the landing force to be dropped. Hundreds of shuttles and first-echelon landing pods rushed towards the planet.
The enemy's surviving anti-ship defense system came to life. The Red Army soldiers began to suffer their first losses, even before engaging in close combat with the dishonorable oppressors.
Taking advantage of the fact that the maneuverable and fast USSR pennants were busy supporting and deploying troops, the Hegemony cruisers counter-attacked under the artillery cover of the surviving battleships.
A fragile balance was established. No one could gain a decisive advantage. The siege of Khar'Shan had begun...
***
While the decisive battle for the Hegemony was underway, deep in the rear, where shells did not explode and cannons did not roar, a quiet, almost secret war was taking place in the seemingly monolithic society of the Union. CERBERUS bared its fangs and lunged at the apostates.
The death of Marshal Mordakon activated the dormant repressive mechanism of the country. The officer, who served his Motherland to his last breath, had even foreseen his own elimination. Pre-prepared packets of emergency orders were now being sent through encrypted channels. Even the decapitated structure knew how to act. And who the enemy was.
"...He didn't have any rings on him," said the hologram of the Defense Aspect officer, flickering with interference.
"It doesn't matter anymore," exhaled Jacob Darvinov, blowing tobacco smoke. The intelligent primate's face was inspired, almost transparent in the hazy light of the hologram. "I will personally take care of this problem now. Thanks to the foresight of this upstart, our agents missed the girl."
"With all due respect, Comrade Darvinov, but our brothers couldn't have done anything. There was one of the executioners with a support team next to her. It's not in our interest to take risks," the hologram stated coldly. "But her appearance raised too many questions. Just her face..."
"Whoever did this will answer," Darvinov agreed, clenching his teeth. "The war gave us opportunities. In a little while, we would have removed the blinders from society's eyes. But now time is working against us. SHE has started to act."
"Then we urgently need beta connectors!" exclaimed his interlocutor.
The coordinator took another puff before answering: "I have a guess who might have them. This intelligent being is not one to let go of control. Without this habit, he couldn't have given us the stars... But all this is meaningless if the girl remains alive. Do whatever you want, but make sure not even a corpse remains of her!"
The hologram fell silent for a moment, as if weighing the risks, and, nodding, added: "Because of your mistake, the CERBERUS are already sniffing around. Time is not on our side. And you know that it's better for us to fall into their clutches than to incur THEIR wrath... or even HIS."
The gorilla shuddered. Even the thought of possible punishment made his fur stand on end.
"Consider her gone," the officer finally replied, and the connection was broken.