Khaela, cruiser UNSC Apollo.
The arrival of the guests on board changed approximately nothing. They were scanned with the best equipment available. Then the Vice Admiral watched the interrogation, asked a couple of questions of her own, and they were sent down to the planet to the interrogators. That was all the math. If it weren't for me and the unique scanning equipment, they wouldn't have been offloaded onto the UNSC Apollo at all, but taken straight to the orbital lift.
Let Lecter and his team of scientists and interrogators have their fun. The lift impressed them, especially the AI and the Quarian. They recognized the full complexity and demanding nature of such a project. According to them, with the presence of Element Zero, building this lift would be realistic, but prohibitively expensive and energy-intensive. Well, and general interest in unfamiliar technology. And I was interested in the AI with a full avatar—or rather, the avatar itself. I want one of those.
A nearly full humanoid body controlled by simplified code. Almost completely autonomous, very close in appearance to organic, albeit with a somewhat different texture. This is something I can work with. Fortunately, there's an opportunity to take a closer look. My robot was assigned to escort them to the lift. Partly because the insectoid is suspiciously similar in its biology to the insectoids on the squid-ship. Not exactly the same, a different structure. But similar. On the other hand, the scan yields different results. Likely, unlike the insectoids on the ship, this one is clean and wasn't infected by the nanovirus. For some reason.
In any case, that's a matter for the personnel at the base. I recorded everything and sent it off. The scientists will be thrilled. But for some reason, it's been decided not to act harshly for now; everything is strictly on a voluntary basis. Their right. Instead of sending the xenos to laboratories for experiments, it was decided to carefully interrogate and scan them. No, there's sense in this if the command hopes for cooperation, as with the Batarians. But why hope? I don't know.
Listening to their conversations became much easier once the aliens shared a translator. Themselves, voluntarily. It seems their words about peace aren't a lie, or they want it to seem that way. The ease with which they share information is unusual. But it's not about a lack of digital security, but a different logic. In this logic, information about Mass Relays is public. Which means there's no point in hiding it; this information, like the addresses of the most famous colonies, is in the databases anyway. This doesn't negate secret facilities; they are simply hidden by other methods. Caution should be exercised; the accessibility of the Relay Network makes not only attackers predictable, but saboteurs as well.
That is exactly why everyone needs a global map so badly. With the ability to deliver sabotage groups and strike fleets through Slipspace, bypassing all lines of defense except those located directly at the planets, we will be able to impose our own rules of the game. So mapping and reconnaissance must be a priority. If the main UNSC fleet works against the Covenant, then ONI will be the primary actor against the Citadel. Do I need to explain how much I want to participate in this? For the glory of humanity, of course. This is what I'll have to explain to the military council consisting of Margaret Parangosky, Preston Cole, and his subordinate Terrence Hood. Also here are Vice Admiral Jack Harper and Vice Admiral Konrad Volkov.
The brass arranged a small military council on the topic: "what to do with the new front." Only those who will be directly involved in the operation and are connected to it. Margaret Parangosky and us from intelligence. Preston Cole simply because some of the Mass Relays are in his area of responsibility; he needs to be in the loop. Terrence Hood will oversee the defense line in the Contact system, as it was ultimately named (separate debates on how to name an empty system. That was funny). Jack Harper is the direct leader of this direction at the moment with heavy forces. Once we figure out where to deliver them. And Konrad Volkov from the scientists' side. These ones are drooling over Element Zero for its ability to violate mass and gravity, which everyone wants.
"Lustful old men with their scanners."
Of course, no one will turn down our promising developments, but the local implementation of Eezo could make some of them simply easier. It's just useful, and that's why they're doing it. Black Box and I are here as AI assistants on Margaret Parangosky's side. Everyone brought their assistants, but the channel is limited, so no new acquaintances today, unfortunately. Or they don't fully trust me—specifically, that I might hack other people's AIs. I could, though I don't intend to. The boss, as an ONI officer, leads.
"Thus, despite the inevitable conflict and the emergence of a second front, the load on the armed forces will increase only slightly at this time. The enemy has a limited number of attack vectors, which makes them extremely predictable. In four out of five cases, our colonies and any objects subject to protection are absent at the exit point. A technological level comparable to ours will allow the enemy to be held back by home fleets, and new ship modernizations will effectively destroy them. The main difficulty is matching maps to enable an effective return visit of courtesy by Vice Admiral Jack Harper's forces. And the distance to the neighboring arm of the galaxy, of course. But this problem, like others on this front, is the work of ONI, and we will get it done."
Preston Cole stood up.
"I am interested in the reason why an attack by the enemy from other vectors is assumed to be impossible. According to your department's data, Margaret Parangosky, the speed of their ships reaches fifteen light-years per day. That is more than ninety-five percent of our fleet can show. Why is this not a problem?"
Margaret Parangosky nodded, acknowledging the reasonableness of the comment.
"I asked that question. As competent specialists explained to me, their technology is not designed for long-range travel and has several critical flaws preventing rapid movement. In short, their FTL equipment creates a static charge on the hull which, if not discharged, will simply cremate the crew. You will receive explanations in a separate file if necessary. Also, the AIs present here can provide explanations on the spot."
A short vote showed:
"We would like to hear brief explanations."
"Black Box?"
The cube calmly demurred.
"My colleague is more knowledgeable on the matter. I administer; she handles more specific projects."
Margaret Parangosky nodded, and I, having gained access, projected myself onto the main projector against the backdrop of the galaxy map.
"All technology of the xeno-union 'Citadel Space' is built on so-called 'Element Zero.' Weapons, ships, mechanisms. It's even in the blood of some xenos. It is interesting because under energetic influence, it is capable of exerting a gravitational effect on surrounding objects, changing their mass and more—for example, proportionally increasing the speed of light. This makes some representatives of their species so-called 'sorcerers,' as we call them, or 'Biotics,' which is their official term."
Chuckles broke out.
"Sorcerers? Seriously?" Terrence Hood chimed in with a nod from Jack Harper.
The avatar spread its hands.
"Your opponent throws spheres of energy from their hands or can yank soldiers out from behind cover. What else could the rank and file call such a thing?"
Margaret Parangosky snorted.
"Khaela, get back to the topic. Explanations on Biotics are in the general report; right now, that's not as important."
I nodded.
"Yes, Vice Admiral. Their technology allows them to nullify a ship's mass or even make it negative. Thus canceling some physical principles limiting the speed of their ships while remaining in real space. According to the Batarians and our tests, the speed of light in such a distortion increases, and the ship accelerates to fifteen light-years per day without actually reaching the speed of light. But this leads to energy accumulation on the hull, and if it isn't regularly discharged, the crew will undergo electrical cremation. This requires grounding the hull against a planet's atmosphere or removing the charge by other methods. In any case, this significantly slows them down, especially when moving in interstellar void without objects for grounding. Larger ships accumulate charge faster and can move outside systems with Mass Relays orders of magnitude slower."
Preston Cole nodded, accepting the explanation.
"How often is it required to discharge the energy? Can the limitations be bypassed? What prevents duplicating the systems several times, using cores sequentially?"
Oh, I have answers.
"Fifty hours for a standard ship of their Frigate class. Bypassing the limitations is impossible, as is effectively duplicating the systems. The reasons? The square-cube law. Every increase in size by a square leads to a growth in volume and mass by a cube. Element Zero directly affects mass. Thus, the growth of ship dimensions increases resource costs and the required sizes of cores. A larger core requires more energy and accumulates a larger charge at a higher rate, which requires high synchronization, difficult to achieve without an AI. On the other hand, they have a theoretical basis to bypass the problem. Creating a second circuit of accumulators to use the accumulated energy and a control module. But at the moment, this is not in demand, and development, as far as our prisoners know, is not being conducted at all and is not widely applied, if such ships even exist. Plus, it would cost extremely, extremely much."
Vice Admiral Jack Harper asked:
"Do I understand correctly that this technology limits the size of their ships?"
I smirked, intentionally widening my mouth and adding triangular teeth.
"Exactly! Both size and range. Any attempt by a heavy fleet to move away from the Mass Relays, which allow them to move quickly across the galaxy and discharge accumulated energy at planets, turns their heavy carriers into very slow and clumsy coffins. Small ships can still be dangerous, but the heavy fleet is tied to the Mass Relays. Regarding size: the largest known Dreadnoughts belong to the Asari 'race.' The 'Destiny Ascension' protects the capital complex. Two kilometers—their size limit at the moment. Mass Relays are being studied by ONI scientists with the help of Batarian engineers."
The author of the Mass Relay idea is a genius, seriously. To build a Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine, even the most primitive one, takes decades of research and preparation of scientists and specialists. Any mistake and the explosion will simply vaporize nearby matter, possibly with a chunk of the planet. To build a primitive FTL drive based on the Mass Effect, you need Element Zero and an instruction manual. It's not a given you'll fly far, but even pirates use the ships, and that's an indicator. It means they can maintain them.
Just as a test, I gave a task to the engineers on the UNSC Apollo. They dug out some Element Zero from destroyed mechanisms, and I suggested building a mechanism with the specified parameters of a primitive mass-core. They managed it in a week even without blueprints. With hellish energy costs and low efficiency, but practically without hints and by their own efforts. It flies and even accelerates to two-thirds the speed of light. In my opinion, that's an indicator.
"Technologies based on Element Zero are simply designed to be simple and accessible. But beyond simple technological solutions, the complexity of tasks grows exponentially. You can create kinetic weapons or a railgun, a hyperdrive, or cargo transports of enormous capacity. Or rather, you can, but you'll hit a bunch of technical limitations above a certain threshold. In some areas, like armor production, they clearly surpass humanity. But in creating new, more powerful types of weapons, they have difficulties. And our opponents do not use AI, I remind you. They are too afraid."
Chuckles were heard. Finally, Konrad Volkov asked:
"How soon will we be ready to deliver a counterstrike? It's foolish to only sit on the defensive."
Margaret Parangosky took the floor again:
"We are adapting a series of our stealth frigates as scouts, installing a mass-core on them. We are analyzing their sensors and capabilities to map and plan attacks. The difference in cartography prevents the use of the heavy fleet. So for now, only stealth ships."
"And are there problems with that?" Terrence Hood inquired.
Black Box answered:
"The difference in systems takes its toll. Their civilization is built on principles that my colleague calls the 'monorail path.' For orientation, it's enough to know the route numbers and stops. And only a small part of the territory around them. Our maps are different. This makes matching difficult; mapping and reconnaissance must be conducted. Also, distances must be taken into account. A Mass Relay allows covering thousands of light-years in a day. In the near future, it will be difficult to conduct a counterattack."
Here I cut in, signaling Black Box.
"According to the data we obtained, the main neighbors live in the neighboring arm of the galaxy. All our potential opponents. The Perseus Arm, mostly. But even so, we are talking about distances of thousands and tens of thousands of light-years. I recommend acting with reconnaissance forces using ships on Element Zero, at least until the strike fleet is modernized and until a speed of one hundred or higher light-years per day is achieved. As soon as you set up production of new reactors, it will be possible to get serious about engine modernization. Not before."
Only sabotage operations on ships with a mass-core, yeah. Spartans and ODST are used to it. And the delivery of nuclear charges. This can be handled with the help of captured technologies and engineers, and also the Geth. So the humans decided:
"That is exactly why we are preparing reconnaissance and sabotage," Jack Harper announced with a nod from Margaret Parangosky, "Rapid modification of heavy ships is impossible and irrational, but we have enough trophies in terms of both ships and army surveillance systems. And their map is also available; in this regard, our enemies are extremely careless,"—with a click, several areas were highlighted on the galaxy map,—"the states of the Citadel Council races. The Asari Republics, the Turian Hierarchy, the Salarians, and the Batarian Hegemony."
"That is logical," Black Box explained, "the map of Mass Relays is known from the start; opening new ones is prohibited by law. They hide the locations of specific colonies and military facilities, not the Mass Relays themselves, which are public."
Margaret Parangosky nodded in agreement and continued:
"Quite right. Also, I expect that the new version of our ships, the Destroyer-class Reaper model—no, the Leviathan-class (Mark III) cruisers—will arrive at the testing grounds at the end of next year and will have a speed of one hundred light-years a day with the prospect of improvement as the FTL drive is modernized. We'll see how quickly we can master the process."
This news caused an unhealthy stir.
"And no way to speed it up?" Commodore Terrence Hood asked, "it could significantly help us. On both fronts."
That's a question for me.
"No, sir. We are talking about creating entirely new production chains for new technologies. A ship reactor is built from scratch; personnel training happens in parallel. All this time. The more powerful the technologies, the more complex they are. Of course, AI will do most of it, but redundancy for human personnel is also applied."
And after a certain speed limit, human reaction time simply won't be enough, and all system management will be taken over by the junior. Right now, it's not critical, but if they want more, the issue will be relevant. That's how we'll win. But that will be later; let them get used to the good stuff.
"Sad," Preston Cole nodded, "may I ask a personal question? How do you feel about current humanity? I've heard quite a bit about you; it's interesting."
Unexpected. This is the second time I've been asked something like this. The first time was Margaret Parangosky at the very beginning.
"I am not familiar with humanity as a whole. This creates some difficulties in developing certain projects, but it is a fact. As for the military personnel I know, you are no worse than my own team. Ancient humanity was in a desperate position. The Flood and the Forerunner Ecumene took no prisoners. But we fought and survived as best we could. Now humanity continues to fight and live, though the enemy is different and you have lost many technologies. The technological level can be pulled up, but without the will to fight, it wouldn't matter. And you fight. You are worthy of their memory."
My monologue ended unexpectedly—with applause. Well, look at that. No, I didn't doubt the social module, but still. Margaret Parangosky quietly remarked, so only I and Black Box could hear:
"Beautifully said. Exactly what was needed. This technology allows us to trade with a better score."
"Thank you, Vice Admiral."
For me, the main front of work is still the war with the Covenant. Fortunately, battles on this front do not happen too often. The situation looks stable, but any major battle will still be a rout in the end. An early warning system could help here. Such a thing exists on the Boundless Will—or rather, it did. The equipment did not survive the battle. So now a separate team of scientists is assembling the necessary device from scavenged materials.
This will also take some time. Everything takes time; fortunately, there's no reason to rush yet, and I can attend to secondary projects. Not just attempts to promote culture, but civilian projects as well. Genetics is not my profile; Dr. Catherine Halsey is handling the work with the crew's bodies, trying to adapt the program for her Spartans, along with the armor. I expect she will succeed. For me, it remains to create educational programs and films, support the game, and help Miranda prepare.
The girl is not stupid; she noticed the decreased response time, but I told her straight: the information is classified. She took it with understanding and was generally pleased that I could respond within twenty-four hours. Until at one point she suddenly asked:
"Are you a captured Covenant scientist?"
What? No, really. What? Congratulations, you caused the load on this thread to spike to three percent. That's a record. Okay, I want to know the logic. Of course, the messages still have a delay, so there's a twenty-four-hour lag for each message, but the dialogue itself...
"Why did you decide that?"
No, I'm truly interested. An AI's surprise means I ran a couple hundred thousand simulations looking for the logical chain but still didn't understand what that even was. Simply dismissing it as "child logic" is prevented by the social module and the knowledge that, as a rule, logic is present in some form.
"You use my mom's communication channel, not your own. Even when she's busy with dad. You admit that intelligence checks your comments. You don't send your own images. Your programs have ONI tags. And I also showed them to a friend who's good at programming. He still didn't understand how you did it. Humans don't do that."
Okay, that's not bad work for a girl of her age and education. Not perfect, but better than I thought. Information gathering, analysis. She knows where her mother works. I can brush off almost everything except the code. Without lying, of course. I made the code according to my own patterns.
"Not bad, Miranda. But you made a few mistakes. First: you know what Dr. Catherine Halsey does, you're not stupid,"—I don't think she knows about the projects, but she at least guesses about her mother's work for the fleet or intelligence, otherwise she wouldn't have assumed,—"which means my, her, and even your messages are checked. Always. The fact that I don't have a communication channel speaks to a lack of clearance, nothing more. After all, to have a personal communication channel with the Sol System, you need to have very weighty reasons. With programs, the situation is the same; they are checked. And I am somewhat better than your friend at creating code, you must agree."
To this, the girl replied:
"Okay, granted, but you still didn't answer about the photos and the weird code. It's not just good; it's weird. There are rumors online that the Covenant has a race of scientists. Tell me, huh?"
There it is; the girl turned to so-called "conspiracy theories." And read about the Huragok. I need help.
"Black Box, you're reading this anyway. Share the data."
He didn't answer, but he shared the data. So, some part of the information about the Covenant is being leaked into the network intentionally. Not always accurate, not specific. But the path of half-truths was chosen to prepare the population. And in case of leaks, of course. Leaks are easily neutralized by conspiracy theories and pre-leaked masses of rumors. Hence the conclusion: the fact that the girl saw photos of the Covenant races in general is not surprising if she was looking for them. Simultaneously loading up on theories of all sorts and kinds. But I still need to give an answer:
"Miranda. If you can get a higher clearance in the future, I can tell you more. Right now, I simply don't have the right. This is serious."
She answered quite directly and well.
"Okay, okay, I get it. Don't be offended. And you, whoever is checking this, I get it all and I'm not prying, okay? It's just, well, I wanted to know more and was looking for information. And I found some things,"—I was relaying stories of soldiers, things that aren't classified,—"you've seen quite a bit. A Covenant scientist would explain a lot, including your secrecy. And it would be cool; few people have talked to one of them. Almost no one, as far as I know. Sorry, okay?"
Well, she was wrong in any case. The main thing is that the girl helps me find data for the social and cultural block without resorting to intelligence. Only by her own efforts and those of her classmates. Given her conclusions, it turns out interesting. Did she come up with this herself or collectively? Interesting. But that's only curiosity, nothing more. They perform their function, and otherwise, they have supervision from the girl's governess, who is surely no ordinary person.
As the captain of the recently upgraded ship UNSC Pillar of Autumn, Jacob Keyes is often away, as is Dr. Catherine Halsey. So the girl is under supervision. I am sure she will be protected from stupidity if necessary. If we have to clean up her problems, Margaret Parangosky will personally strangle the girl's educators and everyone involved. For having a bunch of AIs do their job.
For now, let's attend to other projects. I need to check the work of the research groups and help with calculations. Preston Cole gave clearance for the theoretical layout of a weapon called the "NOVA Bomb." A thermonuclear warhead of colossal power. A dozen thermonuclear warheads in a lithium triteride shell. For now, it's a purely theoretical weapon, non-existent in any form except blueprints. I received the contacts of the research group working on this project.
I need to familiarize myself; it looks interesting. And finally, my new subjects are arriving—the insane, rampancy-stricken AIs.
***
Planet Oma Ker, Turian Hierarchy.
A garden planet with a thousand-year history. Inhabited by giant flora and fauna; humans would say it's a planet of dinosaurs. But it's a dextro-amino acid world, sold by the Volus to the Turian Hierarchy and since then supplying its masters in the Aethon Cluster. A peaceful world with three hundred million people. A large, peaceful colony with developed infrastructure. The day is slightly longer than a human one, the year two and a half times longer, the pressure a third of an atmosphere higher. The capital of this world is the city of Sarlik.
In some ways, this world resembles Reach, only it's adapted not for humans, but for avian-descended xenos. The sabotage group penetrated the perimeter quite easily. Identify the nearest Mass Relay, and then, using the Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine, simply bypass customs control.
Oh my god, it was indecently easy! The entire patrol and customs infrastructure is concentrated either at the Mass Relay or on the surface. Our new ship, a seven-hundred-meter wedge-shaped stealth frigate painted black, bypassed this defense as if it weren't there. Little is known about the origin of the ship itself. Likely, the five-meter sphere called a mass-core came from one of the invaders' ships.
No one knows where the ship itself came from, but it differs quite significantly from the usual ones. A wedge shape, the latest Slipspace drive, laser point defense. As the main battery, a MAC and launchers for missiles with neutron warheads. It must cost a staggering amount. As command decided, these low-yield "clean" tactical charges with a low half-life will be excellent for frying our opponent's electronics.
"It will be interesting to test."
The crew is small, of course—a hundred people in total, plus an AI, plus two hundred Geth, plus another fifty platforms under AI control. And a good supply of neutron bombs, plus a self-destruct system based on the Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine. We had a hundred crew members, two and a half hundred Geth, fifty neutron missiles, as many bombs, a Spartan, a state-of-the-art stealth ship, and a lot of enthusiasm. All of this is needed to give the xenos a lively time, but once you start, it's hard to stop.
If only I knew who came up with the name "Last Sex" for the self-destruct protocol, it would be absolutely perfect.
So we successfully penetrated the planet, using the wild nature with its huge aggressive fauna as cover. And then we just had to wear environmental suits with cloaks and closed visors. The locals, of course, noticed oddities, but we tried not to be seen, setting up our holiday gifts. Low-observability drones that will carry neutron charges on a timer. The AI hacked their network and prepared the platforms for an attack on the news studio. No need to let the enemy understand exactly how we pulled it all off. Finally, the captain reported via the quantum communicator.
"Everything is ready, Vice Admiral."
A middle-aged brunette in a snow-white admiral's uniform and cap, holding a cigar in his teeth, smirked, releasing a cloud of smoke.
"Excellent, Fireteam Bravo. Begin the operation. Today, everything changes."
"Begin the attack. And prepare for takeoff; I want to admire the fireworks from a more convenient position."
The starting engines of the ship, which had become substantially overgrown with vines in just a few days, roared. A black shadow, still unnoticed, soared into the sky, leaving a glow of fire behind. And then hell began. It all started with a massive system hack. Failures in city services, power outages. All to create panic and distract the enemy from the departing ship. So they would look down, not up.
"Phase one complete. Beginning launches," reported the ship's AI, Dead Anarchist.
The scale of the failure made the Turians nervous. But that was only the beginning. Then—
...what to do with the find. I'm recording everything, but nothing important yet. They noticed the unfamiliar panels and are making guesses. I'm deciding whether to block their signal or let them continue.
"Block it," the captain ordered. "We don't need them calling for help if things go south."
The figure on the hull of the Pelican was busy with the external hatch. Judging by the movements, they were trying to find a way to open it without a key. Meanwhile, the scanners of the 'Scharnhorst' flickered.
"Contact!" the operator whispered. "Emerging from the shadow of the moon. It's the Hierarchy ship. Exactly on schedule."
A sharp, angular silhouette of a turian frigate slid into the light of the local star. It didn't rush, moving with the confidence of a predator in its own territory.
"Perfect," the captain grinned. "Now let's see how our 'traders' react."
The small freighter immediately began to back away from the Pelican, its engines flaring with panicked bursts. The figure on the hull scrambled back toward their airlock with desperate speed.
"The turian ship is hailing them," the AI reported. "Standard demand to power down and prepare for inspection. They aren't even looking at the Pelican yet; they're focused on the 'smugglers'."
"Let them get closer," the captain commanded, his eyes fixed on the tactical display. "Once they're within range to deploy their boarding shuttle, we disable their engines. Spartans, get to the Pelican. You're going in as soon as the shooting starts."
The trap was set. In the cold silence of the Terminus Systems, the United Nations Space Command was about to remind the galaxy that Humanity didn't just survive—it struck back.
***
Read the story months before public release — early chapters are on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan