Liara T'Soni, unknown location.
The ship has been hurtling through a strange blackness for almost four days now. During this time, we've managed to inspect the ship, talk to the transported sentients, rest a bit, and prepare for something. Given the speeds voiced by our pilot and part-time captain, this ship is already far beyond normal exploration distances. Very few ships larger than a small-scale scout can travel a distance of a hundred and fifty light-years from a Mass Relay. The Shadow Throne is one of them. If we need help, there will be problems.
Captain Vorhess, like the others, tried to understand what kind of ship this was, but couldn't. Or perhaps they didn't say, which is also an option. None of us have any reason to trust the others. This doesn't make the situation easier, as it provides no answers. We don't know where we're flying, why, how much longer the flight will last, and what awaits us upon arrival.
Leaving the Batarian under supervision, I went to talk to Benezia. Li is sleeping off the chemical interrogation; fortunately, she didn't know I was the Shadow Broker. So she couldn't tell anything dangerous physically, except perhaps to share some guesses. Safety in ignorance, so to speak.
I sat on the bed, closed the door, turned on the quantum transmitter, and waited for the hologram to appear.
"Matriarch Benezia."
She smiled, though only politely, not joyfully.
"How is the progress, Liara?"
The question seemed to be asked calmly, but I clearly saw threatening undertones in her voice. She was essentially asking: "did you fix your mistake or make a new one?" But everything was fine, and I replied:
"We got her back. Chemical interrogation—I think she might have said quite a bit. But not the core things; after all, I kept her at a distance from my work. She's resting now, health is normal. We made it in time."
Benezia exhaled and smiled more warmly.
"I am glad too; after all, it was your mistake," a fair point. "Where are you?"
Now, here were the complications.
"I don't know, Matriarch. This ship's engine, it's strange. It's not a Mass Effect Core, or rather, not just one. Likely a Salarian development based on a Covenant or human engine, or something else. We've been flying for four standard days now, and we've already moved more than a hundred light-years away from the Mass Relay, and the flight continues, Matriarch. The ship was on autopilot to an object; we were being pursued and had to jump blindly according to their coordinates."
Benezia nodded and clarified.
"Strange? What do you mean by saying the engine is strange?"
"I lack the knowledge, but it's a combination of a Mass Effect Core with something else. It's the first time I've seen such a mechanism. There are even Quarians on board; they also have no idea what the power plant is or what principles it works on. Or how to safely shut it down, for that matter, so we decided to reach the destination, turn the ship around, and head back. It will be more reliable that way."
Benezia thought and nodded.
"Reasonable. Once you get out, turn around and fly back to the Mass Relay; you'll be met there. And I am not angry with you, Liara. Mistakes happen, and you fixed yours."
Well, that was good.
"I understand, Benezia. I don't know how long the journey will take."
"I understand. Don't delay, and may the Goddess protect you," and she disconnected.
I prefer not to think about what that goddess looked like, given the appearance of Javik and the Collectors. Well, whatever, time to head to the bridge.
On the bridge, I had to be bored for another three hours listening to Captain Vorhess's stories. And his stories are outrageously reminiscent of holofilms. And some are something worse.
"...and then a huge black squid with a bunch of tentacles and a sinister red eye lunged at us, trying to climb aboard our schooner. It wanted to infect us, planting its own larvae in our bellies so they would eat our brains, and make my crew its slaves who would forever guard its cursed treasures. But I pulled out my trusty revolver, took aim, and blasted it right in the eye!" the captain was preaching.
And you have to wonder—did he dream this while drunk, does he have a vivid imagination, or is the fact that he's describing a Reaper not a coincidence? A squid-ship, the red "eye" of the main weapon... But I asked:
"And what, was a revolver shot enough for the squid?"
The captain snorted.
"It wasn't enough; we had to fire the ship's cannons too, of course. But the first shot was mine. The bastard hooked a tentacle over the side and hit so hard that the cook broke his neck, and we were stuck on rations for a long time instead of normal food. And you can't eat the squid; the cursed meat was rotten and poisoned. Sometimes I think the most important thing on a ship is a good cook; without one, the crew turns savage."
And... it didn't get any clearer. Too weak an impact for a Reaper. On the other hand...
The darkness suddenly parted in a blue flash, and all of us, including a couple of commandos, stared at the planet ahead, occupying half the view. And not just the planet.
"Everyone hold on!" Vorhess growled. "Hard to port, or we'll hit a reef! Turn, you rusty bucket!"
The ship's system wailed, steering the transport away from the debris. A literal graveyard of ships, ground down into relatively small pieces as far as the eye could see. It's hard to determine the damage by eye from such a distance; they are scattered along the entire route in a field of debris and asteroids.
"Whoops," Vorhess exhaled, looking through the front viewport, drawing our attention. "So that's where we were flying. The cursed city. Didn't expect that, didn't expect that at all. So, we're flying for treasures! I'm absolutely sure they're there. We've got laborers to dig in the hold, hm."
Anger seemed to appear in his voice, mixed with surprise, but the pirate quickly regained his composure and swiftly switched back to his usual cheerfulness, as if the space object—clearly artificial and visible against the backdrop of the planet (this thing must be larger than the Citadel, many orders of magnitude larger)—was normal for him. And yet, surprise was audible even from him. But why the anger? And what is this thing?
There, ahead, against the backdrop of the red rocky planet, lay a ring. A huge, clearly man-made ring, noticeable even from such a distance. At such dimensions, it must be thousands of kilometers in diameter. Such a thing... the Protheans couldn't have built this. Another Reaper mechanism, like the Citadel and the Catalyst? Perhaps a backup mechanism in case the Citadel failed. I don't remember such machines in our era. Unless the Salarians were hiding them as well as they were here. We found this ring by chance. But how enormous it is... And these debris around it—why are they here? Who destroyed them?
"What is that?" the commando marveled, leaning over the pilot's seats to look. "It must be larger than the Citadel. Against the planet, it's much larger than the Citadel?"
"That's Bandshugg," the Batarian stated confidently. "The wall of the gods. Only why do the Salarians have it? Did they steal it?"
I pondered.
"It looks like it."
The commandos exchanged looks.
"Can we have a history lesson for those who haven't read up?"
I nodded.
"Do you mind, Captain?"
He shrugged.
"No problem, I love good stories. This one is very instructive."
Well, great.
"In ancient times, on the world of Khar'shan, the Batarian homeworld, there lived gods and demons. The demons ate the Batarians, and the gods built the great wall of Bandshugg. High and wide, covered in blue runes that repelled demons. Right on the wall, they built the Emperor's palace so he could look down on his subjects and rule them. The Emperor's palace was higher than all others, signifying his power, but even it was lost against the backdrop of the gods' enormous wall, which signified their might compared to everyone who walked on Khar'shan. And no one could doubt their power or that their wisdom protected the Batarians. And even the Emperor was allowed to take his place by the gods in their wisdom."
"But the Emperor was quite the Bosh'tet and no one liked him, and he was jealous of the gods too," the captain chimed in. "So the demons reached out to him. They promised the Emperor that if he let them onto the wall, the demons would become his army. No one would be able to object to the Emperor; everyone would be loyal and obey him. And the gods wouldn't be able to do anything about it. So he let them in; he really liked the idea. The demons climbed onto the wall in a whole horde, down to the last one—the wall was very big, they all fit. Only it was a trap by the gods; by their will, the wall took flight, becoming the divine ring of Bandshugg spanning the entire sky. The demons and the Emperor were trapped forever, and Khar'shan was cleansed of evil."
I nodded, looking irritably at the captain. He said himself, tell the story, and then interrupted immediately.
"Thank you, Captain. And then the Batarian gods built a great three-legged tower to the heavens to watch over both the planet's inhabitants and the demons. Later, though, the tower disappeared, as did the ring itself. So the demons couldn't climb down the tower—and they tried."
The commando nodded.
"And that's why it ended up with the Salarians?"
"Stole it, apparently; they're Salarians, after all," the captain snorted.
The radio came to life.
"Cobalt-2. You're early. Cargo on board?"
The captain, mimicking the fast speech of the Salarians, said:
"They tried to capture us. One hundred and fifty personnel units on board, all according to documents. Sending the invoices and codes. Done."
"Understood," came the reply from the other side. "Stay in the autopilot zone and move to the camp. Awaiting arrival."
"Understood, standing by."
The Batarian disconnected and pressed the autopilot; the ship began to accelerate, moving toward the planet along the course laid out among the debris. Sorry, but no, we have other plans.
I signaled the commandos, and a couple of rifles were pointed at him, and I pointed my pistol.
"Turn back to the Mass Relay, Captain. That's an order. We're not going there. Record the coordinates and we're heading back."
He snorted.
"I see. Mutiny on the ship. Wonderful. So, what's next, Captain?" the Batarian noted sarcastically, but he didn't start the turn. The ship continued its acceleration through the corridor, approaching the giant device.
One commando pinned the Pyjak with her boot; the second carefully disarmed the Batarian, pulling out his strange pistols. I waited calmly, keeping him in my sights and ready to apply "Stasis" so he wouldn't press anything extra.
"No need to do anything foolish, Captain Vorhess, just turn the ship around and lead it back where I tell you. Slowly, and we'll all stay alive, and you'll even have money. To whom is a mercenary loyal, Captain? Where is the best place to be?"
He snorted.
"Wherever it's profitable. Fine, I'm turning."
The ship lurched, changing course. Almost immediately, the station came to life.
"Cobalt-2, return to course. The security system is about to get you. We're tracking launches. Maneuver! Maneuver immediately!"
We stared at the instruments, on the edge of which vectors appeared. Passing through our course. Vorhess immediately cursed, trying to stop the turn, but a transport isn't the most agile machine, especially when it's already started turning one way. This didn't stop the pilot and captain, and he continued transferring energy to the thrusters, shifting us away from the vectors.
"Hm, cannons. Looks like they're charging cannons. Why? Oh! It seems they're going to shoot at us! Full speed ahead, you tub! Move, move, move!"
Something very fast and blue-colored streaked past. A laser? Didn't look like it, more like a projectile, but with a long blue trail. Or just so fast that the dot turned into a line. The Batarian immediately turned the ship toward the planet, throwing it to the side, causing the console to beep, showing the load on the compensator and engines. In the process, the captain cursed in Batarian and added:
"This thing isn't blocked by Kinetic Barriers. One hit and we'll be at the bottom. I like myself too much to die like this. So hold on tight, it's going to be a bit bumpy!"
A couple more shots streaked past. Close, but not critical.
And the Batarian is doing quite well, tossing the freighter from side to side. Now that we're turned toward the ring, it's visible that blue beams are rushing toward us from it—very fast ones, too, and many of them, more and more. And the captain is good; maybe not on Joker's level, but good.
"Why are you heading toward the planet? Get us out of here!" the commando demanded.
The captain continued the maneuvers but explained.
"I can only lead us head-on into the ring, toward the planet. If we start turning around, these little beams of kindness will burn us. Silhouette size, beautiful. Size matters for more than just chests. So only forward! To new treasures, to new discoveries!"
And there's sense in that. Alliance Ships are elongated, so in this position, our ship's silhouette is smallest relative to the direction of fire. The beams are rushing very fast, but Vorhess manages, working his fingers frantically on the holographic panel, to steer the ship away from hits. Not always successfully; a hit shaved off a piece of the hull, causing the ship to shudder and reports of depressurization to appear. Vorhess made a couple of presses, and the signal disappeared. But the ship became slightly harder to control.
The closer to the ring, the harder it is to dodge. The beams not only hit debris and asteroids, burning holes in them and not even slowing down, but they repeatedly grazed the hull, causing the system to wail, complaining about depressurization. Then the ship shuddered; an explosion occurred.
"We've lost the engine."
"I see, you landlubbers, don't chatter under my arm!"
The ring became very close, and it became clear how enormous it is. Kilometers, tens and hundreds of kilometers wide; right on the inner side, forests, snows, lakes, and much more are visible—a whole ecosystem. And what is the diameter of this clearly man-made mechanism—thousands? I don't know. But the main thing is that once we land, they clearly won't be able to shoot at us so as not to punch holes in their own installation. We just need to get there. In the meantime, Vorhess, cursing to himself, is steering; I can make more recordings, inwardly marvelling at the colossal nature of the construction and wondering who built it.
Damage control is howling, reporting depressurization, and now also heating; the ship is shaking, equipment is sparking. We are entering the atmosphere, and it's here too. It's getting crazier and crazier. From a sharp jolt, I almost smashed my face against the instrument panel; the straps saved me. On the damage screen, the rear part of the ship suddenly went dark, and the hull began to spin around its axis, engulfed in flames and heat from the speed.
"Brake, we'll burn up!" someone shouted. "We've lost half the ship!"
"Can't, they'll shoot us down! And anyway," Vorhess protested, "we still have half the ship! We should be happy!"
The ship continued to shake unmercifully, but I looked ahead, teeth chattering. And there were biomes, real ones. Forests, lakes, rivers, winter, and deserts. Where will we fall? And it seems the biomes are set artificially, as there's a winter biome between the desert and the forest. And further on, jungle. There's a lot of forest in general; it looks like two-thirds of the territory, if not three-quarters, is forest.
The alarm systems reported a fire in another engine, critical heating. Losing control.
"Brake, brake, you tub, come on!" the captain roared.
Good thing they really did stop shooting at us. We need to land, but it's extremely dangerous; we're hurtling over biomes, and it's clear the landscape is very vertical—kilometer-high sheer cliffs with platforms. If we fall, we'll either smash against one or fly off it straight into a canyon nose-first; not much fun.
"We need to land on water."
"I know! Hold on tight, landlubbers. Now Captain Vorhess will show you a death-defying act. If we survive."
The winter biome gave way to forest, from which sharp rock peaks and deep precipices with a river flowing in them rise. And further on, jungle and sea, real sea. And some buildings flickering in the forest. Does someone live here? Interesting. If we can make it...
"We're not making it; hold on tight, it looks flatter here. I'm going to land it."
The ship, a flaming torch, descended toward the very jungle, among which clearly artificial buildings of gray, overgrown stone are visible, leaving a trail of burning forest behind it. And the cliffs here are indeed lower. There was a thud of trees against the hull; I gripped the chair with all my limbs, praying to the Goddess, Javik, and everyone in turn, just in case it helped.
The ship clipped a cliff and with a deafening clang lurched downward.
***
Gathering my brains into a pile is hard. What happened? Ugh. Right, the landing! We were landing on a huge space ring.
"Oooooh, my head," I groaned, hanging from the chair straps, trying to focus my vision.
Something is moving and sparking ahead. And noise—cracking, humming, something else. Fortunately, no one was pulling me, and I could slowly come to my senses.
In the ship's cabin, it was quiet, only sparks were crackling; the glass was broken, it smelled of burnt plastic, something was burning. The consoles weren't working, there was no lighting.
"Vorhess, where are we?" no answer.
Is the captain in his place? I turned to the pilot's seat. No, his seat was empty. The ship's nose was tilted at thirty to forty degrees and clearly heavily damaged, which is why I was hanging from the chair straps. Nearby, having crashed through the front viewport with her body, was an Asari commando; her head was twisted unnaturally, her body partially sticking out on the other side, drenching the glass and her own armor in blue blood—dead. Clearly didn't have time to secure herself. I wonder, were we lucky or the opposite?
"Anyone there?" someone croaked from behind.
I flinched, the voice echoing in my head, but a second later I recognized it—one of ours, from the accompanying commandos.
"Me, I'm here, alive. Vorhess isn't visible? Did he run?"
The voice replied:
"He's not here. But he landed the ship, though not very smoothly. Will we be able to contact the Matriarchs?"
I hope the transmitter survived the landing; otherwise, we have even bigger problems.
"We need to find out."
I unhooked myself from the chair, leaning on the powered-down console, pulled myself up, and took the rifle of my mother's deceased subordinate. I'll need it more. I looked around.
The ship is clearly heavily damaged. No power, doors closed, glass broken. I leaned on it, and it crunched, covered in cracks, but didn't break. What else?
Can't get through the main airlock; that would need cutting, it's closed and there's no power. A bloody trail leads to the hatch below, to the body of another Asari who was tossed around with her chair; likely a broken neck. The sparks and the smell of burnt plastic don't add to the mood. Plus the tilt, though luckily there are magnetic boots. With a hiss, the commando, that same one, stopped nearby. She looks fine; it seems she was luckier, like me. Inspecting me, she asked:
"Alright?"
I nodded.
"Yes, a bit strained, but not critical. We need to find survivors."
We crawled into the hatch, forced the door open manually, and moved through the dark compartments under the screech of the decks, looking for the others.
There were many survivors. We had to open doors manually one by one, but other commandos were found, as well as almost fifty spacers from the cargo. Including Quarians, so the further opening of the ship went much more briskly. Too bad there's no power, no communication either. Not everyone survived; in the damaged compartments, sentients were ground up, but the survivors organized around the armed commandos and others capable of holding the weapons of the deceased. Now is not the time for discussion; at least the atmosphere is breathable, otherwise three-quarters of the survivors would have suffocated immediately. But we can breathe, which means we have some time.
Outside, it's a literal jungle. Dense vegetation, water squelching underfoot, trees to the horizon, vines, grasses of colossal size. Insects buzz, something is clucking in the background. Without a long knife or something similar, it's hard to even walk ten steps, not to mention that the exit from the ship, hanging at an angle from a cliff, turned out to be at a height of about ten meters. And yes, that's the front part. The rear part is lying somewhere else, if it even survived in any form after the hit. Vorhess has vanished.
"Has anyone seen a Batarian with a Pyjak and in strange clothes?"
A Salarian in orange responded.
"There was one; he jumped down and ran off that way."
And indeed, if you look, you can see tracks. Not exactly tracks, but broken and flattened plants leading somewhere into the depths of the forest. Otherwise, it was simply impossible to push through. Great, we know where to look.
"I suggest going on reconnaissance; we need to find out what's here and where. And where we've ended up. Food, water, maybe locals if they're here. We need information."
The suggestion was supported; the ship is too destroyed to take off even theoretically. The quantum transmitter works, but we need to move further away to talk on it so no questions arise. So, leaving five (unfortunately, three died) commandos and Li to set up camp, I and two others went to explore the forest.
We were definitely not prepared for this. In an hour, I managed to almost drown a couple of times, tripped several times, almost got lost once, and was tried to be bitten by local beasts three times. Trying to find someone on the scanner is unrealistic; there are life forms everywhere here. The device goes crazy from the readings.
So we roughly chose a direction and went that way, gradually widening the path and leaving marks and notches with Omni-blades. We need to find a sufficiently dry and remote platform for the transmitter, and such are hard to find in the swampy jungles. As it quickly turned out, we are in a canyon. Maybe it's dry higher up, but here water accumulates; damp, slippery rocks are poor shelter. A bit higher up are fallen and vine-overgrown trunks of centuries-old trees, meters thick; maybe we can find a platform on them.
"Look!"
I looked in the indicated direction. A flickering red light, breaking through the vegetation. Hm, usually in this forest the colors are green, or blue.
"Look at that, tracks. Looks like the captain headed this way. Did he notice the building before landing?"
"Landing, pf," the commando laughed while we carefully, trying not to fall or slip along the tree trunk across a small ravine, approached a bunker hidden in the jungle.
A fairly large opening, a truck could fit through, leading down, and higher up, above us in the upper part of the hill, a structure protrudes from the mountain. And dirty tracks lead inside.
"The captain went in there. Well, communication?" the commando asked.
I nodded. The Matriarch answered quickly.
"Did something happen?"
"Yes, Matriarch. We found... I don't know what it is. A huge ring-shaped construction, impossibly, unrealistically huge. Colossal, thousands of kilometers in diameter, hundreds wide. I think it's very ancient; I've never heard of the Protheans building anything like it. The Salarians are somewhere here; we fell away from their camp. And this mechanism has an extremely nasty anti-aircraft system; we were shot down, we crashed onto the installation, there was a wreck. Li is fine," I said in a rush under the Matriarch's stern gaze.
She nodded slowly.
"Can you leave?"
I shook my head.
"I don't think so. The ship is destroyed and beyond repair; the anti-aircraft system brought us down when we tried to turn around. We crashed somewhere in the jungle; the ship broke apart while still in the air. No Salarians in sight; this place is just wild, no tracks. Though there are buildings, maybe the natives are just hiding. But there's debris of ships in space; you need to approach carefully, along a safe vector, or you'll die."
"I will send a ship," Benezia said quickly.
The commando chimed in.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Matriarch. Not until we disable the anti-aircraft system. The ship will be shot down; the defense is too accurate, too high-rate and fast. We'll have to spend some time here. Em, is that gunfire?"
I listened; screams and shots rang out from behind.
"It seems we've been attacked; I'll contact you later," I said quickly, folding the transmitter.
Almost immediately, sentients began running out of the jungle along our path. Stumbling, falling, shouting that they needed to run faster.
A red beam struck the drell in the back, emerging from his chest a couple of seconds later, leaving a hole clean through. He caught fire and collapsed into the mud. Robots appeared above the forest.
Square bodies with blue engines leaving a trail behind them, an orange device below firing a laser, a pair of arms and a metal head on top, folded with armor facing outward. The robots flew in formation over the forest, herding the sentients; judging by the flashes deep in the woods, the ship had been attacked. The fact that the forest was catching fire from the laser blasts didn't concern them.
We began to fire. No shields—that was good; hits immediately began punching holes in the robots, causing them to fall or lose control, spinning and sparking. A few hits, about a dozen, and a robot caught fire and crashed. But we had fewer than ten shooters, and there were many robots; I could see at least twenty from here alone, and there were clearly more in the forest.
"Over here, there's cover! Faster! Faster!"
Especially since the robots had switched their fire to us, the shooters. Four lasers simultaneously sawed a female marine in half; I turned away so as not to see it. I had to shoot, assisting with biotics; the Quarians were trying to take down the robots with Tech Powers on the run. They were succeeding, but there were too many robots, and fewer and fewer survivors.
Another robot fell, one crashed from "Overload," and then another. About thirty survivors had already run into the bunker, and the robots, apparently having finished off those in the forest, kept arriving and arriving. On the bright side—there was little space for them at the bunker entrance, and there were pillars here; we could fire back from behind them.
"Liara!" — and there was Li, slightly scorched but alive.
The Asari ran behind a pillar, trying to catch her breath, then nodded, showing she was alright.
"Take a position, we need to fight off these tin cans!" — there was no time; every shooter counted.
She nodded, slamming a couple more robots with "Overload."
"There are too many. They appeared shortly after you left. They started cutting the ship, we were attacked. I decided to follow your tracks."
"Understood," — just as I thought. I looked around, searching for anything that might help.
The bunker was empty inside, just pillars and a large platform with a console in the center. There was also something resembling a console at the entrance, but no gates were visible. The wall was clearly solid gray metal.
A pair of Quarians were working magic on the console, but what they would achieve was unknown. No exit was visible, which was good, but where did the Captain go? Unfortunately, the tracks had dried and were lost in the building. Perhaps we could follow him, but where?
Finally, all the survivors were packed into the building. The robots continued to stubbornly storm the complex; outside, a literal fire had started from the fallen robots and lasers, but it didn't stop the machines. Suddenly, shouts rang out from behind.
"It's an elevator!"
The platform in the center slid down somewhere with a steady hum. Very quickly, so that a few more sentients fell after it, slipping on the edge out of surprise. We immediately lost a third of the sentient civilians and half of the defenders. And then a new, large one joined the robots.
Protected by a blue shield in front, with something resembling hanging arms, it opened fire with two streams of red darts from its cannons. Very fast, high-rate, deadly. They slammed into the pillars, the defenders, and the voidsmen in a red deluge, tearing apart everything they hit.
"The elevator is back!"
I turned around, seeing the platform in its old place and a hardsuit standing near it. He was waving his arms, drawing attention.
"Run! Run, run, run!"
I screamed, and the ground appeared before my eyes; everything went blurry. I must have gotten distracted and exposed myself—god, it burns. I was dragged somewhere. The steady thud of crystals and screams rang out again, but I could no longer see who, for what, or why. It just was. I tried to fire at the sound, but my weapon had been taken away.
"Carry her, move it, to the elevator. Faster, before it flies in."
The steady hum of the descending elevator sounded; my vision cleared slightly. Wounded and dead lay around, torn apart by the mech's darts. The robot flooded the platform with crystals, killing everyone indiscriminately. And something told me that...
"Rest," Li demanded, "and bring up the elevator! We need to win some time! We can't let the robot come down after us!"
So, we escaped?
"There are doors there, it won't fit!"
"Forward..."
Voices merged as the medicine took effect. A narrow door was good. The robot was big; we'd live a little longer, wherever we crawled. We were still alive.
***
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