Khaela, Omega.
What? Is? Happening? Here? No, seriously.
We expected that they would try to retake Omega. The only question was whether it would be mercenaries or official Citadel forces, or maybe one of the quasi-states of the Terminus Systems. So the appearance of an army of mercenaries and pirates was expected, and entirely within the plan. We even prepared, placing equipment on the outer side of Omega and somehow connecting to the sensor block that was left without control after the sabotage. And we stocked up on snacks to watch the space battle.
Then a Covenant suppression group arrived in the system, also expected. They aren't idiots and expected an attack; they left a guard. A five-kilometer carrier and a support group. And then the circus begins.
The Covenant forces establish a blockade, scatter the pirate fleet, and drive the survivors onto Omega. Meanwhile, on the station, Covenant ground forces and acolytes, supported by two Drell assassins. They clash with mercenaries, Yahg, who, according to our maps, begin a massive attack on the new administration. Quite successfully, by the way. Yahg on drugs and in armor don't feel pain; they run at the level of a rabid Jiralhanae, tearing apart everything they see. Action all over the place.
As it quickly turned out, while the Yahg are running through The Covenant positions, soaking up plasma, strike groups trying to pass themselves off as mercenaries, but far too coordinated, are systematically clearing the territory. And even quite successfully—Wizards, snipers, these new Turian "Needlers" in the amount of two hundred units. The Citadel forces prepared for the attack, studied the enemy's capabilities, and with the support of Wizards and Yahg, began pushing The Covenant forces into the "cap" of the station. With losses, of course, and the "Needlers" were shot down by strike craft arriving from The Covenant ships. In the process, the station took almost more damage than during the first assault.
But the towers are only the outer part; in the corridors, the Wizards, turrets, and robots took their toll. A Wizard casts anti-gravity, after which The Covenant soldiers are gunned down. Or Throws, or Stasis. They even took apart the only pair of Mgalekgolo on the station that way—put them in Stasis, then mined them, wrapping belts of explosives around their weak points. Boom, and the Mgalekgolo didn't even kill anyone.
I was pleasantly surprised; compared to Oma Ker, the Citadel's infantry (not naval) forces had learned their lessons, prepared weapons for specific types of enemies. Marksmen with accurate carbines against Jiralhanae, rapid-fire guns against Elites, grenade launchers against everyone who doesn't have shields. All this with the support of turrets and robots to control territories from those who like to attack from the vents. Everything was going well; they even made attempts to storm the PKO guns.
And then, from the red Mass Relay in the system, a group of ships of the insectoids we already know, infected with nanites, emerges. Cylinders covered in growths resembling insect nests, using beam weapons. At the same time, The Covenant doesn't hinder them at all and generally maintains the blockade. And the insectoids begin to besiege Omega, while there are Covenant troops on the station, and the fleet doesn't protect them, and the insectoids are storming. Moreover, The Covenant forces began hitting their own in the back, helping the insectoids.
"And what the hell is this?" the operator sitting on the cameras inquired into the void. The Agent spread his hands.
On the screen, among the towers, the green flies of The Covenant and the insectoids from the ships clashed in a firefight. Not in The Covenant's favor. The flies armed with plasma pistols, whose effective range is about thirty meters, are simply sliced into ribbons by the emitters of the creatures the locals call "Collectors." Literally sliced; the flies don't take damage well anyway, dying from a short burst from a carbine to the chest, and the beam weapons cut them right in flight. The insectoids fly not only on wings but also on large black hexagonal platforms.
And there are individuals present there, including those resembling a mud-caked Yalorae. And they tear the flies apart with Wizardry just like that, crushing flesh, firing them as if from a cannon, and withstanding the plasma with a shield of Wizardry. And we've been watching this circus for three days now.
Black platforms fly among the towers, on which stand insectoids attacking at any movement. From time to time, their soldiers simply fly between buildings. Below, at street level, a swarm of Seeker Swarms is active, placing The Covenant races in stasis. Oh yes, an epidemic has started on the station, which doesn't kill only—surprise—Vorcha and The Covenant races. I assume the Seekers are spreading it. And since there is essentially no authority, the panic level has reached a completely astronomical level. And we are sitting in a container, sealed up, watching, and trying to understand what kind of horror is going on here.
"I'm also wondering what the hell," the Agent agreed with his colleague. "Khaela?"
I, keeping the body in a pod so as not to take up space, suggested:
"According to research, the insectoids are infected with aggressive nanites. They... let's say, change your worldview to a given one. That is, after infection, you will sincerely believe and serve whoever is necessary. And some time ago, at least some of The Covenant forces were infected with these nanites. And then they likely began to spread like a disease. Invisibly, but restructuring everyone in sight."
The operator got the idea.
"So the forces on the station are clean, but those on the ships have the same firmware as the insectoids? And that's why they're acting together?"
Rewriting nanites is quite a task. They are not sentient; they change the organism according to a template. And there are several templates. The first determines when the nanites enter active mode. The second, what structure the nanites will form, restructuring the host's organism. The third, actually the settings the host must adhere to. Each subsequent template is more complex and more fragmented, determining only the reactions of specific groups of nanites. Hence the difficulties with making changes, but human scientists have managed something (without involving an AI in the active phase of the process).
Two points were reworked: a ban on nanite activation upon contact with human biochemistry for the first template of nanites sent to The Covenant; upon entering the organism, a human becomes a carrier but doesn't change religion. And a complete overhaul for laboratory nanites used to stabilize implants. At the cost of many victims, until the mechanism of operation was understood, the result was achieved. Suslikov won't let me lie. It's not a panacea, but it will do as a solution. A difficult process, yes.
A voice from the pod answered the man:
"That is likely. Or a religious split happened in The Covenant. But that doesn't explain the cooperation with the insectoids. So you are likely right."
"That doesn't make me happy," the operator noted. "We're trapped here. And outside, total trash is happening; I hope the Covies don't decide to burn everything here."
He can be understood. The personnel are forced to sit in mothballs on their own oxygen supplies (they have that here too), remotely controlling robots. Only robots and Geth can move around Omega without attracting the orderlies' attention. And there is a reason for this.
Since the Collectors' Seekers, flies the size of a kitten, find victims precisely by such biological traces. They latch on, placing the body in a stasis dome that prevents movement. And then the larger insectoids come for them.
The Agents' indignation ended when, right in our warehouse—
A group of Unggoy hid with a Kig-Yar; they were found, paralyzed, loaded into capsules by arriving insectoids, and taken away on a black platform. All of this happened less than five meters from us. After such a demonstration, none of us are in a hurry to go anywhere.
"Khaela, do you think the Covies know what's going on here? You know, in the Holy City or wherever their government is. What will they do when they find out?"
That is an interesting question.
"I have no experience working with Covenant heretics, but I imagine a religious society would be sharply opposed to the spread of such ideas. And since we're talking about the Covenant, they might even glass the station. As a warning."
"Oh, great," the operative said sarcastically, "and why didn't you say that earlier?"
To this, I replied quite seriously:
"Because we can observe what is happening from the front row. Which means we can gather information. Besides, in the current situation, getting us out would be difficult. Evacuation is impossible, to put it simply. In any case, I intend to ensure your survival as much as possible. So we sit here, don't provoke the swarm, and keep a low profile."
So far, it looks like the insectoids—or rather, those they serve—have decided to snatch up the Covenant races for experiments, as they are capturing specifically the specialists from the local garrison; the Vorcha, for instance, are simply destroyed upon contact.
One thing can be said for certain: the insectoids have their own ships, and they clearly live beyond the red Mass Relay. As weapons, the ships use the same emitters as the squid-ship, perhaps a different model. The infantry uses handheld versions of them, just as they did during contact with us. And they have a full set of aggressive fauna here, which we already encountered on the gas harvester. Small insectoids that apply Stasis. Four-eyed infantry, more massive individuals like the Yalorae. There are "sorcerers" too, and in large numbers. Some conclusions can be drawn already.
The most effective tool of the insectoids is the small Stasis drones. They even put Elites into Stasis, simply throwing themselves at them in a swarm until they overwhelm the shield with their bodies, without fear and regardless of losses sustained. Without them, the not-so-numerous insectoids would not have had such success. This way, they can release a swarm, put everyone in Stasis, take who they need, and retreat, optionally destroying the rest. There are no more Mgalekgolo here, almost no Covenant vehicles either; this is a one-sided fight.
"This isn't even a fight, just a collection of helpless enemies. No chance," the operative commented on another Covenant group caught on camera and rounded up. "Do we have anything for protection?"
"I have no idea," I admitted honestly, "biology isn't my profile."
"It should be," the operator noted grimly.
I understand him; even the Covenant can do little here. The creatures are small, flying, and there are many of them. Sure, you kill ten, twenty with a burst; maybe another twenty burn up against the shields. But there are hundreds of them. And over the city, there are hundreds of thousands, if not millions. I would call it a Plague of Egypt, but we aren't in Egypt. At least not this body; Dana is the one there. I replied:
"That's why we're sitting here, recording, and drawing conclusions for command. And let the robots and Geth take more samples; they'll come in handy. If the biologists can adapt them for Humans, we'll have a 'warm' greeting for the rebels. Get it?"
The operator snorted.
"Just let's do without Vorhess, okay? But the idea is interesting. And we'll need to add reports; they're just too effective. I don't like this."
I agreed.
"Nobody likes it."
Especially since at the other points of interest, the Covenant, which also deployed ships to other systems, fought back without problems. But then, the forces there were much more modest.
***
I-Core was busy studying Operation Sealed Wagon. Previously, this hadn't been my area of activity, so I knew nothing about the operation at all. Now I know; it turns out to be interesting.
The backstory is as follows: the Batarian Hegemony discovered that instead of a dead zone, they now have neighbors who could potentially be plundered and gathered as slaves. They quickly realized that the Inner Colonies were unreachable for them and began attacking expeditionary corps and conducted a couple of successful raids on colonies. They even developed tactics for relatively quick suppression of the same frigates. There are no AIs there, and the crew is small. Our dearest command was outraged by the injustice—only they have the right to oppress colonies. And so they began planning a return "visit of courtesy."
A series of scientific research expeditions was recalled because clashes with the Batarians occurred. Some did not return. The enemy uses waves of small ships, dozens and hundreds, which, regardless of casualties, suppress the ship's defenses, after which it is taken by storm. And this is a direct threat of our secrets being revealed, which ONI could not forgive.
As a result, intelligence became interested in the situation, drew up a plan, and proceeded to execute it. They began acting according to my methodology. That is, they took a group of AIs, gave each a squad of The Possessed, stretched "Batarian-style" skin over them, copied the library gathered on their culture, and went ahead. Moreover, there is no need to destabilize the entire Hegemony. Causing them large-scale problems, preferably attracting the attention of the Citadel, will be enough. Those guys actively dislike slavers and will jump at the opportunity.
So, what do we have on the Hegemony. The political system is based on the power of oligarchs or oligarchic clans. Essentially, one clan equals one ministry, and at the head of all clans stands the Administrator, the strongest and most vicious four-eyed bald thug.
To divide society even more reliably, besides clans, there are also castes, and on top of them—statuses that determine your personal weight in society, your respectability among others. Administrators, military, civilians, workers, and of course, slaves, divided even at the level of a single social layer.
In the end, we get an inverse vertical: Batarian-family-clan-status-caste-hegemon-administration. Each level controls the lower ones and submits to the higher ones, reliably dividing society. Moreover, some levels can overlap, forming privileged groups within a specific layer. And for all dissenters, there is slavery.
Furthermore, there are many castes; almost every individual profession is singled out into a caste, and the Batarians do not hesitate to create new ones if necessary. The caste of Gedun, the gardeners, was created relatively recently; they practically live in their gardens to achieve the best results. Its creator committed suicide, unable to withstand the increased workload from such a "gift."
And yes, we are talking about primitive, inefficient slave labor within a spacefaring civilization; I am perfectly serious. Illogical, at first glance.
At second glance, logic appears. To rule a large number of worlds by force, you need to atomize their population to the limit, so that even the thought of cooperating "with these lowlifes" causes disgust. Divide and conquer, in its pure form.
There are well-equipped professionals, and then there is everyone else, who also despise each other. For the dissenters, there is always an option where everything becomes even worse.
Actually, about eighty percent of the slaves are Batarians themselves. And our researchers include among the slaves those castes in near-slave positions, like the Mar'Dura, who have their own overseers, gladiators, and have no right to serve in the Batarian army. Although formally this is a caste of workers, not slaves.
Hence the question: how exactly to ruin the Batarians' Monday? In theory, it's simple. Penetrate the outer colonial worlds, where the majority of the population is precisely slaves, manual laborers, and other "low" castes, actively oppressed by a small and heavily armed minority. But what happens when the workers pick up tools, and the systems of coercion, such as shock collars, are sabotaged? Including those of the Asari "sorcerers" in servant roles? And in hiding places, rifles and armor await them?
Need to check.
Other races had no chance, as in Batarian society, non-Batarians are in one hundred percent of cases slaves or representatives of low castes at the level of slaves. But we, with the creation of anatomically correct androids capable of mimicking... It might work. When you don't expect that a downtrodden worker can snap your neck with a flick of the wrist. Or have poison ampoules in their knuckles. Or a probe for picking locks and hacking systems. Or climb sheer walls and ceilings. Or smash the ribcage of a target without armor. It will be fun.
In three colonies, nearly a hundred of these "Batarians" are now roaming. Not combat avatars, more modest, but enough for the locals. They have no idea what is happening. Why the commander of the internal troops, a known tyrant, has become even more of a thug. Who is hacking the systems, why the drones are behaving incorrectly, and the programmers find no errors? Who knows.
Now for the location. What is a Batarian colony? It is a feudal world where the settlement is divided into three parts.
The Spire (Upper Hive), truly beautiful. On the level of the wealthiest districts of Asari cities. Mansions, multi-story buildings made of natural stone, around and on which grow complex multi-level gardens, behind which are hidden infrastructure, servants (there is enough automation, but live servants are in visible positions for status), and the transport system. I am no architect, but I assume it is very expensive and certainly requires a lot of effort to keep such a project in order.
Around the Spire (Upper Hive), located on an elevation, is the Lower Hive. The quarters of the castes; status depends on the distance from the center. The quality of the construction and the level also drop. According to agent reports, factories located far from the center lack even the minimal concept of safety; equipment quality is low and maintained only by the slaves' will to live. Not always successfully.
Plus, the entire middle and central ring has defensive lines, but they are turned not against a landing force, but toward the poor and slave quarters.
"Box, this is inefficient!" I couldn't stand such an assault on logic.
The black cube replied phlegmatically:
"Given that technologically the entire galaxy is in stagnation, it doesn't matter. Strategic production can be automated, and the rest is inefficient to produce anyway, given the number of people involved in the economy. If a significant portion of the population is not integrated into the market and does not use mass-produced products, they don't need these goods. And providing for a small portion of the population is easier. You know this."
"Still stupid," I replied, "uprisings, conflicts. The reason it hasn't fallen apart yet is the vertical of power and a professional army with access to technology. Although, as the technicians say, the Hegemony made its technological leap even before contact with the wider galaxy, through total social control and the elevation of effective users."
"A sovereign path of civilizational development," Black Box clearly quoted someone. "This vulnerable point will be exploited. There is no time or need to integrate additional platforms; we will work with what we have. AI agents will handle integration and preparation; you are in charge of the material and technical part. And Vorhess."
"Accepted," I nodded immediately. "What is required of me?"
"Captain Vorhess with a sniper rifle. And all his eloquence."
Um. I didn't get it.
"And in what way is this the material and technical part, Black Box?"
The cube, as always, was emotionless.
"Captain Vorhess will deliver weapons and equipment to the oppressed; the idea of freedom and methods for its realization have been implemented for some time; we just need to deliver more resources to begin actions. Also, the Captain will support the uprising with firepower. The strike will be delivered by Batarian forces, without the participation of outside forces; Humans have nothing to do with it at all. If successful, the movement will continue toward increasing anarchy and a change of power in the Hegemony. This will be the success of the operation."
I nodded.
"This will be entertaining. But we need to take a spare Vorhess, just in case they break the first one."
***
Captain Vorhess walked slowly down the street of the planet Adek. The distinctive appearance had to be changed for a much more classic Hegemony outfit of a raider captain with yellow status. Not great, but not terrible; a middle-level officer of significance.
So, a colony. Six million population, dome-cities of slave traders. Getting here was the easiest and fastest. Therefore, this world, although located quite close to the capital, was chosen as the target of the operation.
Out of six million population, about half a million are free; the rest are slaves.
During the day, the temperature on the surface rises to sixty degrees; the air is full of pathogens lethal to Batarians. Humidity is one hundred percent; a tropical climate. For the Batarians themselves, this is a death world, yet also an extremely profitable agricultural colony with year-round harvests of rare products. Which, surprise, are exported to the worlds of Citadel Space.
As a result, power over the colony ended up with slave-trading landowners, and vast plantations are worked by slaves in light, cheap suits so they don't die of dehydration. All valuable infrastructure is tucked under atmospheric domes, while the slaves have to—overcoming diseases, fighting swamps and jungles, dying from local fauna, heat, and dehydration (it's especially bad for the Asari there, who simply dry up, becoming like ugly skeletons covered in skin)—work colossal-sized fields. And so they don't slack off, the ration depends on output, and overseers with shockers and whips stay nearby.
Sentient beings, free and not so much, pass me on the city streets, glancing at the expensive suit corresponding to the status of a ship captain. I can walk like this along a major street of the planet's central dome without fearing the Oversight. Those around look without respect, as if at a servant, but many here have a status higher than mine.
Here, as in other "upper cities," there are expensive mansions and complex, multi-stage gardens where plants from different parts of the galaxy grow. They are trimmed and cared for, given various shapes and divided by colors and species. Thanks to this, different sectors of the city also have different colors, each in its own style. Very expensive, very wealthy.
And completely unreachable for those who live on the outskirts and outside the atmospheric dome. Around the wealthy districts, there is a perimeter, patrols. Batarians from the higher castes, except for work, have nothing to do down there. But professional military, overseers from the middle castes, do. And that's where most of them are. Tsk. An obvious problem in the work; a caste member out of place will look suspicious. No wonder a lot of time was spent observing and replacing specific sentients.
I'll have to mimic actively. Comms.
"Black Box, confirming information. Quiet mimicry is impossible due to the linking of castes to specific districts. Vorhess is limited to the Spire (Upper Hive) and Mid-Hive, as we thought."
"Expected. Finish reconnaissance at your position and prepare. You'll need to hack their network. A diversionary maneuver is required."
"Understood, Black Box."
Right, a diversionary maneuver. Good old sabotage of a transport car. Hm-hm-hm. Oh, I see it.
"Ready for the diversion. Dropping a cargo drone on the heads of honest citizens."
Connect to the transport network through the relay in the Omni-tool, through the holes left by colleagues, bypass the simple firewall. Hey, don't send tracking programs back at me! Right, right, right. Done.
A cargo drone, powered by Eezo (Element Zero) and carrying a tank of fertilizer in its sling, levitated at a height of a hundred meters above the honest citizens. Judging by the sprayers, the drone is needed for spraying something over the gardens, which is why it's within the city limits. It's assigned to the map of the Gedun laborers. As a consequence, it has no adequate protection against hacking as a fact. At least not with my resources.
"Assineizator-2 on position. Dancer, begin," an AI agent said to me in ancient human.
Well, why not; we need a language that the Batarians won't understand no matter how hard they try.
I-Vorhess specifically positioned myself to watch the show from the front row. A bit of shamanism, and a load was applied to the drone's engines, causing the drone to jerk upward, then pitch forward and, with the screech of mechanisms, begin to fall, smoking as the engines failed.
Passersby reacted to this screech and scattered. The drone, obeying the command, crashed into the trees, flooding the area with fertilizer; the tank's weight shifted, and the drone fell to the level below, onto the road.
"Maintain order! Leave the territory and maintain order!" shouted the arriving "green" patrolmen, dispersing the onlookers from the smoldering drone.
But curious onlookers began peeking here and there. Low-quality wiring, and the engines are mediocre too. In the heat and humidity, the machine failed; it happens. Fortunately, none of the important lords were hurt. An incident not worth mentioning, one of many, given the climate that doesn't mix well with technology and slaves. It happens.
And by the time the competent authorities notice that incidents are happening a bit too frequently, it will be too late. Vorhess calmly stood up and walked away, simultaneously looking for other opportunities.
As calmly as possible, as if a ship captain saw a drone, looked, and kept going. The Extranet is a thing. Especially when everything is connected to it.
Of course, I can't be too bold; they'll notice. But like this, carefully feeling out the territory and walking down a street on the border of the Spire (Upper Hive), where a ship captain is also allowed to be—why not.
Appearance is extremely important for a Batarian. Caste emblem, the cost and quality of clothing, the ability to carry oneself. Who is before you can be determined by appearance, as it was in human society for thousands of years. But if humans' skill at judging by clothing atrophied over time, Batarians live on it. A ship captain with scars, with emblems, moving as if impaled on a stake, looks if not respectable, then finds respectful understanding from the local guards. I had to kill a lot of time finding out details from our Batarians.
There are Batarian women too; they, like Turians, rarely leave their own galactic space. Batarian women look more like humans. Still four-eyed, but a thinner figure; from the back, they could pass for a human, albeit a bald one.
In parallel, I listen to conversations. Nothing particularly interesting. Servants gossip, discussing domestic and work issues. Wealthier ones discuss issues characteristic of their castes or the recent drone crash.
I glanced down from the balcony, which serves as a wall. And there, below us, the servants move. Without catching the eyes of the respected lords. The same Batarians, but from castes that shouldn't be seen too often. Servants, military, rushing to the scene of the incident. They'll conduct an investigation and waste time—exactly what's needed.
The military, like civilians, have their own "castes." Built on many factors: origin, birth caste, wealth. Hereditary military and conscripts are on different levels, and it's the latter who will be cleaning up the drone breakdown. But persuading the respected persons not to get in the way—that's for the former. Reminds me of Earth's aristocracy, and similar counter-methods can be applied.
Over the comms, I noted:
"Another layer of atomization. We need to unite them all. Slaves are clear; they desire freedom. We need to break and burn out the control centers. But the military... play on the status of the seniors and envy? Breaking through the division of society is quite a task."
One of the AI agents suggested:
"True, that's exactly the conclusion we came to. There are other developments too. We can work from the opposite direction. A large-scale incident that will lead to extensive tightening of the screws. An obvious preparation for a riot, when the aristocracy loses its edge."
I understood.
"A self-fulfilling prophecy. But adjusted for the strength of the rioters. Good plan, I like it."
"But preparation must be carried out," another AI agent noted. "Stoke the discontent, arm them. So that in response to repression, there is resistance, not attempts to bury themselves deeper. Ask away; we'll forward the data if necessary."
"This will take some time," I noted, "let's get to work."
***
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