Khaela.
The stealth SSV Normandy "Full House" jumped out of Slipspace at a safe distance from Kahje, the Hanar capital. Flying directly through the Mass Relay was too risky, so the ship reached the point closest to the planet at the nearest secondary Mass Relay, followed by a two-week journey through Slipspace. And as it turned out, it was not in vain.
"There are Covenant ships in the system. At least three. One at the Mass Relay, two at the planet," the operator informed us, "it's good that we're here and not there."
The ships aren't the largest, but there are three of them, and one is hanging close to the Mass Relay, above it. And the Council Races' ships, if they pass through the Mass Relay, won't be able to attack immediately; they'll need to turn around first. But a Covenant ship can, whether with cannons or a torpedo. I won't say we don't do the same ourselves; in the Contact System at the planet nicknamed Shelezyaka (there's nothing there but robots. And that wasn't my idea), the Humans' defense lines are located in front of the Mass Relay, above and below, so you'd have to turn around under heavy crossfire, and reaching the battle stations at that point with a warhead is practically impossible. Yes, command drew conclusions from the major battle we lost back then. The Covenant, obviously, drew conclusions too.
"On the plus side, it's a resort, you can go for a swim," Nyalla giggled, flicking her tail, "scanning the system. I see heavy ship traffic, looks like locals. Do you know how to swim, by the way? I used to, and I know what it's like."
Nyalla is the ship's AI, who was given a possessed body. She, "out of solidarity with the author of the idea," requested a tail and ears for the body—also fox-like, but a bright orange, chemically pure color. She braided the hair on her head into numerous small braids and generally spent a ton of time choosing her appearance to look like a fluffy daughter of the north. Leather, fur, and jackboots. And the temperature on the ship doesn't bother her; the possessed doesn't sweat anyway.
"A resort, hah. Some resort—it rains there twenty-four-seven. The water evaporates, it's an ocean world, sixty percent of the territory is constantly hidden by clouds," the Avatar replied, currently without a helmet but in armor.
Atmospheric stations hold windows over the spaceports to stabilize the weather over specific points in space.
"Resort or not, command wants us to solve the Drell problem. Any ideas how, exactly?" the ship's Captain asked, "because other than 'blow everything to hell,' I don't see many options. Floating cities and no room for maneuver."
An interesting question, especially since besides floating cities, there are also underwater ones. Inhabited by the Hanar. The floating ones are for the Drell and guests who don't live underwater. And the defense systems there are clearly designed for the Drell.
When you hold an army of assassins in subjection, you need to make sure they don't stab you in the back or crawl where they shouldn't.
"What if we play it in reverse?" suggested Carter-A259, a Spartan-III, "Planet Rakhana—maybe we can find a guide there? Nyalla, what's the probability that there are no potentially living Drell left at the poles? A toxic post-apocalypse, but there are chances, right?"
I raised my hand.
"A reminder: a city Drell and a post-apocalyptic planet Drell are two different Drell. And it's not a fact that the second can replace the first."
"We don't need a replacement," the ship's Captain countered, "we need someone to infiltrate a Covenant ship."
"Or we could do it the easy way," Nyalla said, smiling with triangular teeth, "storm a Covie patrol craft, get into their system, and make ourselves an entrance that way. Or an exit, we'll see depending on the situation. Also, I see a traffic control station. Another possible target, it's away from the transport lines. We can approach unnoticed."
"A station?"
Nyalla smiled, zooming in on the image.
"There, look. An automatic traffic control station. Scans the Mass Relay and tracks incoming and outgoing ships."
A familiar thing, yes. Even stealth ships can be detected at the moment of passage through a Mass Relay, which reacts very characteristically during a ship's transit. We received a mass of documentation from the control station on Omega. Your ship can be as stealthy as you like, but at the moment of transition, you're still visible. Even visually. A simple photo-fixation station filming the Mass Relay during transitions. Pointed right at the Mass Relay. Yes, yes.
"Six Spartans, including our tailed friend, eight combat drones, and Geth. We'll drop in for a visit on Pelicans," Carter agreed, "Khaela, we have a question of subordination. You're not part of my squad."
The Avatar shrugged.
"Me is very stupid and don't understand. You have big head, you smart, you have Chieftain hat, you think."
"I'm serious," the man replied, not even trying to smile. Bore.
The Avatar snorted.
"So am I. If you've talked to Yellow, you know that this head," I tapped my metal gauntlet against my temple, "and what's inside it, adapts perfectly to the Spartans' combat style. Experience. So lead on, I'll follow you, Commander."
Noble One, a Spartan in blue armor with a fairly narrow visor and a large amount of modular equipment (which makes his armor feel more rounded than Yellow's, for example), but it allows him to have both a shield and a cloaking system. Or another removable module for the armor. Convenient; I can't do that, I have to cut the module into the armor. The man nodded, gesturing invitingly.
"I hope so. For the duration of the operation, you're Noble Six. Part of the team. Follow me. And paint that hammer a normal color—it's a sniper's dream."
The Avatar followed the commander, picking up the pink Gravity Hammer leaning against the wall. Next came the introduction to the team of five Spartans of the current Noble Team roster. And the paint job.
Well, as for the current roster, after the general equipment upgrade, the "threes" began to be broken into teams, just like the "twos" (previously they operated in companies). And Noble Team was formed not so long ago. Before that, it was part of Beta Company, consisting of Spartan-IIIs.
The brain-straightening by my dear superiors due to high losses among the "threes" generally improved their lives. Before this, the threes went around in whatever they had; few had full MJOLNIR Armor. The question "why the hell are we giving normal armor to the infantry while Spartans don't even have shields" was recognized as logical. And, like magic, their mortality rate dropped by an order of magnitude after receiving personal shields.
"Command has approved the attack plan. Nyalla, show us," Noble One ordered the ship's AI hologram.
Nyalla brought up the hologram.
"We thought about it a bit and decided this is the best option. A tracking station on the outer orbit. As far as I can tell, it's designed to monitor traffic going through the Mass Relay. The construction is standard, consisting of two blocks: technical and residential. It has no armament, only a hangar for two Kodiak Shuttle type vehicles. Standard personnel—up to twenty sentients plus ship crews, totaling twenty-four at maximum capacity. But the Covenant or locals could have changed the numbers. In any case, primary scanning doesn't show additional modules, which means space inside is limited. As is the number of enemies."
Reasonable.
"So, we approach on Pelicans, deploy, clear, hack," the second-in-command, Catherine-B320, concluded, "are the tin cans with us?"
She's looking at Nyalla. Well, yes, not everyone has the necessary level of awareness. Catherine only ever sees one or two active Geth, not realizing they are saving energy and space. They aren't Humans; they don't need to wander the decks. Nyalla replied:
"The Geth obey the ship's Captain and are quite independent. The bots obey me. But I warn you now, the bots' emitters are indecently radioactive. I expect one such bot, if destroyed, could make staying on the station short and very painful for any organic."
Noble Four asked:
"Who created them to be so dangerous?"
I smirked.
"The same people who created you. ONI scientists. We can simply not take them on this attack, limiting ourselves to the Geth. The drones' task is to sow chaos and destruction, to be a threat that cannot be ignored. They simply aren't needed in this fight. Redundant."
That was the plan. Two Pelicans with expensive stealth coating, one station, six Spartans, and two dozen Geth. Pitch-black ships flying through the blackness of space toward their target. A white station—the Council Races love to paint their machinery white.
"Khaela, you've worked with their equipment, so I'm told," Noble Three inquired, "why haven't they noticed us yet? Through the viewports, for example. Or sensors."
The Avatar, already masked, looked at the Spartan and noted the general interest:
"All their technology runs on Element Zero. If anyone doesn't know, it's a multidimensional material that changes gravity around it when electricity is applied. Like our panels, but cooler. The easiest way to detect their ships is by time and space distortion, when the response comes faster than it should, or by Mass Relay activity upon arrival. A Pelican doesn't create such a response. Plus, it's black, not as noticeable against the backdrop of space."
Of course, there are no lights; we are moving in total darkness with sensors off.
"Target in sight."
Ahead was the white silhouette of the scanning station. Two cylinders, one with windows, the second with antennas. Near the cylinder with windows was the rectangle of the hangar. Closed.
"Looks like we'll have to cut. Move in, drop us on the hangar roof."
The pilot brought the craft in and hovered carefully over it. The Spartans deployed. The Avatar raised a hand.
"I can connect to the system from here, I think. Those antennas over there. If the Covies aren't using their own comms, there won't be an alarm."
"Do it," Noble One permitted.
Well, good. Carefully, with a jump (wouldn't want the owners to hear stomping above them), reach the antennas while the Pelican hovers nearby. Okay, looking for the right ones. These, with the dishes. Connect, cut these wires, these, hm. Remove a small generator from my back, we'll spoof the signal to the planet, everything's fine.
"Done. Now the planet will be sure everything is normal; we can go pay a visit."
While I was doing that, our demolitionists and the Geth laid a cutting cord on the roof of the residential block. We don't need atmosphere.
The leader counted down with his fingers: three, two, one. With a short flash, the cord cut a meter-by-meter hole in the hangar ceiling; the metal block fell down, revealing the film of an atmospheric shield. Grenades flew down, and then the Spartans began jumping in. By the time it was my turn, there were only the corpses of two Jackals and a Drell inside.
"Clear. Move out."
In the hangar stood two Banshees of a space modification and space clearly meant for something else. While the others cleared the base, I opened the hangar airlock, letting the Pelican inside. And the rest of the Geth.
"The objective is ours, get to work."
The Geth Prime and I went to the room with monitors and graphs. The control room. There was already an Elite corpse lying by the wall, and Noble Two had a new sword on her belt.
I'll tell them later I can recharge them; it's polite. For now, we're getting into the system.
"How interesting."
"What's there?" the boss's voice came over the comms.
"The Hanar, as I suspected, live in the ocean and have a very developed sensor network in the regions where potential intruders might fly in. Not over the surface cities. Over the underwater ones. Over the surface ones, it's more modest. The Mass Relay has a decent network too."
"Good heroes always go around," the Pelican pilot chuckled.
Exactly. Pity we don't have access to the planet from this point, only space scanners, and not all of them.
"Anomaly detected. Re-education center," the Prime reported hollowly.
I immediately looked at the forwarded marker.
"Boss, we found something interesting."
Footsteps sounded, and the door slid aside, revealing the leader cleaning a knife.
"What is it, Noble Six?" the squad leader asked me, entering the room.
I bared my teeth, though it wasn't visible under the mask.
"Found a place where they're holding dissenters. Both Hanar and Drell. And they're being transported somewhere, judging by the fact that a Covie ship flies there on schedule. Another flight soon, in less than twenty-four hours. Almost ten thousand dissenters; the bays on the ship will be packed. Drell, for the most part, but not only. Official reason for transport—re-education. This is already the fourth batch."
And we can get into this. If we can manage to start a civil war here too, or just evacuate them... Likely, the leader was thinking in the same direction.
"Got a course?"
I nodded.
"Yes, there's a vector. The city is away from the main path. And I don't see patrol ships, mostly. But this is space; you can't connect to the ground from here."
Noble One nodded in agreement.
"Good, take what you can. Patrols, readings, routes, everything. It'll be useful. And plant bugs."
"Acknowledged," the Geth replied hollowly, "we can deploy to the complex by drop-podding onto it."
That was the next part of the plan. Land on the city. The first wave of Geth rained down onto the dome sticking out of the water. Tucking their legs and wrapping their arms around them, the machines simply fell like stones, slowing themselves with a mass-core at the surface upon landing. I wonder, were we heard? The clang must have been loud. After which the machines rushed to the antennas at the top of the city-dome and repeated what I had done.
The system managed to raise an alarm, but it only lasted about three seconds before a DDoS attack from the Consensus through a Geth connected to the systems crashed the security VI. By the time they restored connection, everything was already normal. According to the readings. That's why Geth are feared—they take over such control with indecent ease. A single VI can't hold out against the Consensus.
When all your technology is connected to the extranet, and Geth can shut it down (and with quantum beacons, they do it from any terminal of their choice), seizing control over all systems...
"Zone cleared. Deployment can begin," the Prime reported.
Black Pelicans appeared, this time carrying combat robots in addition to the Spartans. Among the Geth, four also had very characteristic packs on their backs. Here we could already play dirty if necessary.
The city itself is a wide white dome sticking out of the water, with an antenna in the center that the Geth had connected to. The weather is cloudy; a storm front and rain are visible on the horizon.
Small domes are located around the main platform-dome, serving as hangars. The Geth pointed to the largest one.
"The transport hub is there. The roof opens."
Machinery doesn't like moisture. Noble One commanded:
"Ensure there's no alarm on local channels. Geth, open the technical airlock for us; we'll enter from inside. You control the defenses, right?"
"Correct," the machine replied, "the search system is overloaded with requests, response time is a quarter of a second, we are spoofing the indicators as if we are not here."
Wonderful. Next was a rope descent to a small technical tunnel platform. The first drops of rain fell from the sky; thunder rumbled. By the time the squad got inside and ensured we hadn't been noticed, the rain had turned into a downpour. Interestingly, the humidity inside the building is much lower than outside. The system is clearly drying the atmosphere.
The corridors are high, wide, and white. The corridors are brightly lit, with containers of green plants in the corners, though the corridor itself is empty—no one is there. On the outer wall are floor-to-ceiling windows with blinds, down which water flows. The sky has darkened from the rain.
"Great world for residents of a desert climate," the Avatar noted philosophically, "I mean the Drell."
Noble Two smirked.
"We get it. Where to?"
The Prime, leaving wet footprints just like us, said:
"Uploading map. Done."
Actually, our squad looks out of place in these corridors. Large bright halls where even a Cyclops exoskeleton would have room, and our dark squad, wet and in camouflage colors, with weapons. Walking calmly through these corridors, empty, clattering with feet and metal boots. Perhaps before this city was turned into a "re-education center," these corridors were full of the living. Now the nearest corridors are empty; we know this because we connected to the surveillance system.
Deep in the structure, there are both Covenant and Drell. Patrolling, guarding the residential blocks. These blocks contain the "doubters"; we aren't going there. The fourth peeked carefully around a corner where five Grunts were sleeping quietly in a technical room. The squad drew knives, and the sleepers were struck simultaneously. When a Spartan wants to, they can move quite quietly. And we moved on, toward the hangar.
Here we actually had to fight; there were enemies in the hangar. A group of Grunts, a couple of Jackals, and a Jiralhanae as an overseer. Against a dozen armored Geth and six Spartans (including the Avatar under my direct control and five threes), it wasn't a problem.
After all, the machine doesn't complain about reaction speed; it's only limited by the hardware. A burst from a carbine pierced the Jiralhanae's skull, after which the small fry scattered with loud screams while the Jackals tried to fire back. The Geth, including the sniper, solved the issue. The owners of the emitters are also still using sniper weapons to avoid wasting precious ammunition. The combat drones are in the rear so as not to expose themselves.
"Spread out," the leader ordered, "when the ship arrives, we'll get on board."
The corpses were hidden, though the bloodstains didn't go anywhere, so how much that will help...
The Covenant transport platform is a black cylinder about ten meters in diameter. A gravity lift located exactly in the middle of an empty room. On the ceiling is an entrance divided into "petals," which...
"Ship approaching. Get ready."
Almost simultaneously, about a dozen Covies entered the hall and began to disperse until a Grunt noticed the bloodstains and, screaming loudly and gesturing, drew the Elite's attention.
"Eliminate."
And a Geth Stalker hovering above the ceiling aimed at the Elite, while the others, sitting on balconies or peeking out of technical rooms, distributed targets over the internal radio channel. Yes, Geth can do that. And then they fire synchronously.
"Fire."
A shot, and the Covies fell. Even the Elite, who received a through-hole the entire length of his elongated lizard head. And the helmet didn't help.
"Excellent, clear it."
We barely made it, as the roof began to open. But the rain didn't get inside, as the Covenant ship hovered over the dome, blocking the sky. It took a few seconds before the round hatch in the ship's belly opened and a faint purple beam struck the sky from the gravity lift.
In its glow, three Jackals fell down and began looking around, clearly surprised they weren't being met.
"Fire."
Three targets aren't ten. The roar of a synchronous shot and the targets are dead. However, the first groups of Drell, accompanied by Covenant troops, are already moving through the corridors. They are keeping calm, judging by the cameras.
"Everyone—to the lift, prepare for battle. Take the bodies on the platform with you."
The squad immediately poured out of cover, jumping down and gathering on the gravity lift. Having ensured we were ready, Noble Leader pressed the hologram and we soared. It's perceived as if a stream of water catches you and pulls you up. Rain pours around us, but we, protected by the ship's hull, rose higher and higher. Until the floor of the transport zone on the ship closed beneath us and surprised Grunts and a Jackal stared at us.
"Tarima?" the Jackal asked.
A silent scene. The Covies look at us, we look at them.
"On the lift," the Avatar said confidently, "we came up on the lift."
The shooting began. A minute later, we were already hiding the bodies behind a pile of containers against the wall. Of course, they'd be discovered quickly, but still.
"Split up," the leader ordered. Noble One through Three, half the robots, and five Geth toward the reactor room; Four through Six and the rest, storm the bridge. We're taking the ship.
"Yes, sir."
And we moved through the pentagonal but somewhat rounded corridors toward the bridge. The ship is populated mostly by Jackals. Grunts are encountered, but rarely. And Jackals with shields are unpleasant opponents for a rifleman. Yes, the effective range of a Jackal's Plasma Pistol is up to thirty meters, we have shields, but by the time you dig a Jackal out from behind his dome, there'll be a firefight. A noisy procedure. And the noise draws more and more enemies.
More enemies, more shooting, more enemies.
"Group one, we're at the reactor room, clearing. Group two, where are you?"
"Running through the hangar," I reported, "there are Spirits and Banshees here. Just a moment, we'll get to the third level and the control zone."
Saying this, I flicked a pair of Jackals who tried to take cover from a grenade. But it flew over the shields and detonated so that both were peppered with shrapnel. Hissing in pain, both bodies fell, staining the floor with purple blood. The Spartans and Geth quickly finished off the still-living enemies.
"Good throw," Five said.
"Thanks."
It's only thanks to grenades that we're moving fast. No, Jackals without shields are encountered too, but this is clearly their ship. Which means ninety percent of the crew are Jackals. Finally, we reached the bridge. Serving as captain was a painted Jackal with a personal shield and two bucklers on his arms. He lasted about five seconds—a record.
"I look at him and don't understand the point of painting yourself like that," I remarked boredly, taking the bridge.
"Organics," the Prime replied, "they are illogical."
I nodded. Illogical. But the bridge is ours.
***
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