Khaela. Contact System.
Sometimes humans amaze me with their lack of inventiveness. The system where Humanity can officially contact Citadel troops, rather than shoot at them, was named just that: the Contact System.
Initially, it was essentially an empty system with nothing interesting besides a Mass Relay. There are planets, but the atmosphere isn't oxygen-based; resources can be mined, but there are better solutions. So the system didn't have a name, only a code. I don't know who came up with the name. And then the first Mass Relay in human space was discovered in the system, and it began.
Now there is a small formation of destroyers and corvettes here, a supply complex, and a station in case the enemy appears. Plus a pair of anti-aircraft frigates appear periodically. In case of anything, the defense station will be the main firepower.
According to calculations, everything except major Citadel fleets will simply break against such a defense. Mostly thanks to the station and the caliber of its railgun.
What am I doing here? A transport arrived a day ago, carrying another possessed one on board. Unlike the others, this one looks like a more petite version of the combat platform. Just as civilian, without musculature visible to humans, but with ears and a tail—one. Ash-colored hair, short stature, projector glasses, and a Navy uniform. Vertical yellow pupils and triangular sharp teeth, everything as usual.
The Vice Admiral decided to exchange the Shadow Broker's agents, a Salarian and a couple more Asari. This was planned from the start, considering that everything these agents saw, they would pass on to their boss. And here my combat form, clearly belonging to an unknown race, plays as a plus, adding uncertainty.
Yes, one could assume a human in the possessed one, but Asari exist among the Council Races, so there will be options. Plus, Ajax and I and a couple of ONI psychologists worked on movements and gait to create an uncanny valley effect. Non-human plasticity, an aggressively insane grin as a smile. The foundation was created during the operation on the liner, but now the Vice Admiral recognized it as useful and gave the go-ahead for more authentic development. It turned out well; everyone I tested it on doesn't turn their back, and when asked, they speak of a sense of danger, like a hungry predator. Exactly what's needed.
So, while the combat avatar is away (she's on Tuchanka), we use the possessed one in the same capacity. At the same time, we'll scan the target ship and watch "first-hand" the process of exchanging prisoners for information.
I approached the scanning systems and looked over the operator's shoulder at the console.
"The Mass Relay is inactive," the officer at the scanners addressed the avatar, successfully ignoring the quirks of her appearance and trying to turn sideways to me without looking away from the console.
See what an ONI patch does to people; tolerance wakes up immediately. And I understand it's not just that, but still. For me, it's an effectively working mechanism, and what emotions it evokes in humans is secondary. The main thing is that these emotions are within the expected range. So I pointed at the console for the man with a finger tipped with a long sharp claw.
"They will appear. Search everywhere. Possib—"
It is possible there is a ship on this side of the blockade. We don't know who or how many slipped through before we established it. It could be their long-range scout.
"Understood," he seemed to relax only when the avatar stepped away.
I have very specific instructions for this exchange. Do not attack first, exchange prisoners according to the plan, scan the opponent's ship. The Shadow Broker, even while trying to extract information, gives plenty in return.
Thanks to his intelligence network, we receive a mass of data regarding battles with The Covenant, and we ourselves suggest what kind of ships are in orbit, their capabilities, and weak points. It was at our suggestion that attempts were made to storm the Supercarrier in the capital. They were unsuccessful, but The Covenant had to pull back ground forces for defense. This made life easier for the defenders of Oma Ker.
It is in our interest for The Covenant to break their teeth rather than capture the Citadel. The main thing is not to give away too much. Although the Shadow Broker doesn't ask for technology, he understands what the answer would be. For now, we continue to wait for his ship.
Fifty thousand kilometers from the defense line hangs our transport, a Behemoth model. Essentially a rectangular prism with two engine blocks on the sides and a wide airlock at the bow. A universal vessel that can be used as both a freighter and a light carrier.
An excellent multifunctional machine, its airlock is divided into segments to accommodate docking corridors from class four to class seven inclusive. While class four allows for a forklift, class seven is a six-lane highway found on Cruisers and other large-scale ships. It also houses a fleet of trucks for transporting all sorts of useful things, such as ammunition.
And today, this ship is needed for the prisoner exchange. We simply don't have docks for Council Races ships that wouldn't reveal too much or tie up our capital ships. So, we use this transport. Especially since it is quite well-armored.
There is another nuance. According to the protocol, seven escorts from the Shadow Broker's side will arrive on board the transport. They might be sorcerers, and on our side, everyone except Kitty is a regular marine. And my possessed, as a fighter, isn't even close to a Spartan. Therefore, we utilize a feature of the ship.
Not everyone knows, but Human ships create gravity using plates in the floor. If you flip the plate, change the settings slightly, and hang it on the ceiling, you get anti-grav that reduces the target's mass. The ship's design includes these. The gravity is adjustable, so in case of danger, the enemy can be launched into the ceiling with an acceleration of several Gs. The main thing is to stand at a certain distance ourselves so as not to be affected. And turrets, of course—can't do without them.
It's difficult to perform very powerful sorcery when you're falling with an acceleration of several units, your body weighs several times more than it should, and you're about to break your neck or at least earn a concussion.
Hanging next to the transport is a missile carrier, copied from the Boundless Will strike craft. Only one hundred and twenty meters long, but its missile and cannon armament is enough to cause a massive mess. Essentially, it's a four-seat fighter the size of a corvette. Most importantly, due to its small size, it doesn't look particularly dangerous. A flying wing. And there, the other side appeared on the radars. Four minutes late.
"Target on radar. Um, not from the direction of the Mass Relay; it didn't activate," the soldier reported.
The avatar bared its triangular teeth. At such a moment, it's proven that Humans start to get nervous as non-human traits actively manifest. Exactly what's needed.
"That means it's an enemy long-range scout. We expected something like this. Scan with whatever you have, and we proceed according to plan."
"Yes, ma'am."
The ship hovered at a safe distance from us. Already descending into the hold, I heard:
"Unknown ship, speaking..."
I am much more interested in the ship itself than the Shadow Broker. Communication with this person, whoever they are, is established. But the ship is interesting.
It's impossible to understand much; the target is well-shielded. But that impressive "plow" on the bow is interesting. It's likely a shield against shots or radiation. Can't tell more from this distance. The hull itself is quite narrow, hidden behind this shield.
In the hangar, three captive agents of the Shadow Broker are already waiting for me: a Salarian and two Asari. Plus the guard: six soldiers and Kitty, a Spartan in pink. There are also turrets. The voice of the comms officer came from the ceiling:
"The transport is moving toward us, prepare to receive."
The room where we are all sitting is on the third-floor level above the transport bay, in a glassed-in operator's observation deck. From here, there's a view of the hangar, where the transport ship is just flying into the open airlock. The hangar is almost empty now; the ship was unloaded in advance. We needed the space.
The Shadow Broker's transport is unusual, likely Asari or Salarian. It resembles a stingray split down the middle into two thicker halves. An interesting design.
The avatar turned to the guests, who had been carefully observing us this whole time. All of them—it's clear that Humans are still interesting to them; there's no particular focus of attention on me or Kitty. Another predatory grin, and this time the prisoners recoiled. Nice. According to the combat platform, Wrex can do that too, but he's about three times larger. It seems I successfully recreated the effect. Looking at the prisoners, the possessed said:
"So, time to go down. Don't do anything stupid, and you'll soon be with your employer."
The Salarian simply nodded silently, while one of the Asari stepped closer. A Matron by the look of her, about three or four centuries old. To a Human, she would probably be considered attractive. To me, it's completely irrelevant. I gestured for the soldiers not to intervene.
Stopping nearby, the Asari watched as commandos in white, sealed armor without identification marks and closed helmets disembarked from the transport. All Asari, judging by their body size. The prisoner smiled widely, trying not to look at the grin. Likely a fake smile, or a lustful one; I lack the data.
"It's nice that you keep your word. Many would take the opportunity to get more from us," she almost whispered, "thank you for not doing that."
I followed the last guest exiting the Kodiak Shuttle. While all the Asari were in heavy armor, this one was in light clothing and a respirator. Her skin was smooth and a solid blue color, without traces of patterns or tattoos.
A pureblood, if I correctly understand what the prisoners said. But they are below, and we are still above, and we cannot be heard. The Asari next to me has a bizarre pattern of yellow swirls on purple skin. Whatever that means, there's too little data for analysis.
Interestingly, Dr. Catherine Halsey believes that the Asari were created artificially for the soft assimilation of other races. They live long, their offspring are always Asari, they can mate with any race in Citadel Space, possibly even with the Hanar, who look like giant jellyfish. They are liked and look pleasant to all Council Races without exception. Then there's their Mind Meld, which allows them to understand a conversation partner and limitedly read their brain readings. This aids empathy and the interaction of alien species without conflict.
If their world doesn't have several secondary races, such an evolutionary mechanism is simply unnecessary and was almost certainly created artificially. Plus the fact that they are all sorcerers...
The probability of directed evolution is not at all statistical.
It would be interesting to get to their genetic laboratories. The evolution of an entire species, and a directed one at that. Ancient Humans did such things, and the Forerunners engaged in selection and eugenics, as far as I've heard. Modern Humans haven't reached that point yet. And they aren't the only ones.
No other race that ended up on Halsey's table has shown such a thing. Except for the Krogan, but the Genophage is about something else. In general, the Asari are an interesting race.
I allowed the possessed to perform a half-smirk, half-snarl.
"We can be useful to each other. There's no need for hostility."
Apparently, I said something wrong, as my possessed was softly embraced (I again gestured for the guards not to interfere), after which the Asari's eyes turned black, and she spoke.
"I understand. Embrace..."
She didn't get to finish, receiving a fist to the stomach. The possessed might not look strong, but the synth-muscles still deliver a strike on the level of a Geth. Or a Human with cybernetics in their arms. The Matron wheezed, sinking to the floor. I don't know how her "Embrace Eternity" would have reacted to me, but most likely not at all. I don't have a nervous system in the classical sense. No need to inform them of that.
Looking at the collapsed Asari, the possessed said:
"My thoughts are still mine, agent. If not for me, you would already be full of bullets."
She wheezed:
"Forgive me, I..."
"Wanted to gain access to my memory to sell information to your boss."
She shook her head, trying to catch her breath.
"You are beautiful."
Okay. Fine. I am still certain (probability 0.7) that it was primarily an attempt to get information. Но допустим. Social module, engage.
"The mating rituals of my species involve mutual grooming of hair and tail. Obviously, it won't work between us," I ran my fingers over the horny plating on the Asari's head with a claw and added over the internal link: "Kitty, don't laugh! You're not the one being hit on here."
The Spartan, though she didn't even move outwardly, is struggling to suppress laughter over the link. She managed to say, snorting:
"If only she knew she just tried to crawl into the head of a synthetic! How her face would have twisted!"
I only snorted. Of course, the signal for our communication is transmitted via an internal transmitter; outwardly, I am still looking at the Asari with displeasure, showing her claws in dangerous proximity to her face.
"That's why I hit her. They don't know who I am, and the Vice Admiral ordered it to stay that way. We will feed them disinformation, pretending to be a race other than Humans. Like Asari, but foxes."
The Spartan immediately turned serious, but it only lasted about two seconds.
"I see. So, not a genetic modification, but a different race. Why? I thought you were one of us Humans."
"Asari, in Dr. Catherine Halsey's opinion, were bred artificially as an assimilator race. We can play on that."
The Spartan immediately nodded.
"Understood. You guys are serious."
That's right. Initially, it was intended to present me to the Shadow Broker's agents simply as a modified Human, but the similarity of Asari to Humans opens other options. Just another similar race. Meanwhile, everyone entered the cargo elevator. There were no more attempts at dangerous movements from the prisoners.
We descended, and as soon as the elevator opened, we found ourselves under interested gazes. Everyone except the Asari in civilian clothes was in sealed helmets; it's difficult to determine their reactions, but they are clearly observing us. Weapons are lowered, the model is clearly non-standard, more rounded. Likely their own production. It's impossible to determine the direction of their gaze; the helmet has a mirrored visor.
The "civilian" was most interested in Kitty and my possessed. I hope at least she doesn't try to apply "Embrace Eternity" right away. The guards won't understand, and the operation will be ruined. On the other hand, Dr. Catherine Halsey will have a corpse or a prisoner, whichever way it goes.
Both squads stopped opposite each other. The Asari in a line by their ship, weapons lowered. Humans by the walls, near containers under the cover of turrets. And outside the zone of the anti-gravity panels. Kitty hid behind the prisoners. It turns out I and the Asari in civilian clothes are the negotiators, in front and exposed. My platform took a step forward.
"So, I welcome you on board our ship, Asari. You may call me Tomoko, United Nations Space Command (UNSC) Office of Naval Intelligence (ONI)."
The Asari smiled politely in response, observing the avatar, then bowed in return.
"Dr. N'Lari, archaeologist and sociologist," and immediately apologized, "forgive my attention, I have simply never heard of representatives of your species. I am still young and ask you to forgive some intrusiveness. It's hard to resist, but you are quite interesting. And similar to us, to the Asari. As you probably know, this is a very unique situation."
The avatar nodded, flicking its ears.
"It seems every Asari I meet immediately tries to seduce me," she turned blue at this, glancing at the prisoners, "I am flattered, but we are at work. I wouldn't be understood."
And again, a polite nod from the blue maiden. How the commandos reacted couldn't be determined; they were in sealed helmets. But on our side, I hear everything and have remembered it. You won't get off with just pink paint. The negotiator replied:
"I understand and apologize for them as well. And I am also at work."
I flicked my tail.
"And also for that sensor complex on your little ship, which is currently actively scanning ours."
The Asari smiled even wider, ceasing to play the queen of modesty.
"And for that, I also apologize," she stated in a completely unrepentant tone. But at least the radiation disappeared. As expected, there's a pilot inside.
Yes, the Vice Admiral forbade destroying or capturing them. And I believe our opponent understood this. It's possible that this "archaeologist" is the commander of the operation, not just a talking head. But such insolence is simply irritating.
"You should not forget why we are here."
The Asari continued to smile.
"I remember. But don't you find the situation amusing? While our mighty leaders and wise generals give orders, on the front line of interspecies contact are you and I. Quite young representatives of our people? I am right, aren't I? You don't look like a fully formed female specimen; forgive me if I've offended you."
And there is logic in this. The "pureblood" Asari is quite young; unlike the "embracer," she is still a maiden in their classification. Less than two centuries. My possessed platform also looks about fifteen years old, a cadet still.
The Vice Admiral, listening to the background via the Quantum Beacon, remarked:
"Because it's the adults who have to clean up the problems after you. Khaela, continue, but don't drag it out. Everything we need, we will get on the data carriers and from the scan results."
As if I didn't know that. So, to the Asari's question, my possessed replied:
"Agreed, adults can be quite suspicious. And yet, without them, we would have to solve everything ourselves."
So we talked a bit more. At first glance, completely abstract topics. But after analysis, it was clearly probing my attitude toward command. Likely, the possibility of recruitment is being considered. So, the template of an "aggressive, eager-for-battle underage huntress" was used. How much it helped, we will find out in time.
Using a drone, I managed to get close-up shots of the ship the guests arrived on. Bristling with antennas like a porcupine, with a folding shield in front. A strange design, but likely somehow connected to the Mass Effect Core and charge accumulation. Perhaps a long-range scout with a mass-core cannot be made otherwise. I'll show it to the Batarians later; maybe they can say something smart.
Also, after the exchange, the ship left the system through the Mass Relay. And that is also an interesting point. It would be more logical to send a regular transport for the exchange, not a long-range scout. Which suggests they still haven't been able to break the blockade. But I have orders not to touch them, so we didn't.
Overall, the outcome of the negotiations is assessed within the plan. We didn't kill anyone, and we learned a lot about each other. The Shadow Broker, through a courier, passed information on the Husks, which is important. And on how the Reapers can track and control them. Which makes that lab I cleared even more potentially dangerous. A repeated search for possible indoctrinated will be conducted on Reach.
Also, and this is very interesting, in two weeks the first prototype of a new ship will be ready. One and a half kilometers long, one hundred light-years per day speed. A simple antimatter reactor. As the main weapon, a simplified turret from the Boundless Will. Somewhat weaker, but faster-firing and, unlike a Magnetic Accelerator Cannon (MAC), on a turntable. A MAC is also on the new ship, but smaller, more of a Frigate class. A liquid shield, can't do without it.
All this at the cost of hangars; the ship is about ninety percent a pure line machine. But that's not bad; many Human ships, it seems to me, are currently excessively universal. In any case, there will be tests; we'll see the result.
Kitty still can't stop giggling.
"This is not serious. You know perfectly well why," the avatar snapped.
She snorted, smiling.
"Oh, come on. It's fun. You were constantly huffing that the Spartans were looking at you sideways, not even understanding the point. I realize you probably can't feel it, but it's just right!"
I flicked my ears.
"Why? I'm genuinely interested."
It seemed to throw her off. The Spartan thought for a couple of minutes before answering.
"Okay, look. I understand that for you, all this is a game, right?"
The avatar shook its head.
"No. Not a game. Just a calculated reaction; I don't need social connections to cross into the emotional plane. It's unnecessary."
Kitty snorted.
"Well, then you need to make your avatars more modest. I've seen your 'possessed.' A fetishist's dream. Business lady, fox, serious scientist, modest office worker, child, curvy dairy-and-meat beauty. Take your pick."
I inspected mine. The figure is androgynous, without pronounced sexual characteristics. The uniform is closed. Non-human traits should attract attention, not sexual desire. It seems I did something wrong. I need to consult. At this indication, the Spartan explained.
"Humans like different things. So... Well, you don't have a chance, sorry."
So, I just need a larger sample size to create a clearer forecast. Meanwhile, I can attend to other matters.
***
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