The plan is risky, but I don't see a better way to get control over the ship. Or contact with it, since the crew is alive and not sleeping. One can feel however they like about the Turian Hierarchy, but Garrus always criticized the government of his home state for excessive conservatism and belief in its own invincibility. And I have no reason not to believe him. As the Shadow Broker, I have plenty of proof to the contrary.
The Hierarchy's policy is built on the concept of dominance. There is the Turian Hierarchy, and there are those whom the Turian Hierarchy protects—meaning they are weaker. The rest the Turian Hierarchy tolerates or dominates. And it is the leadership of the Turian Hierarchy that decides which group you specifically belong to.
A sense of superiority in itself isn't a problem. The problem is the inability to stop in time. The First Contact War with the Alliance in my past happened just like that, when the Turians, without even investigating, started demonstrating who was in charge and set the rules. And then they paid reparations to the Alliance because they completely ignored all the rules of first contact. Therefore, despite all my respect for Garrus, I don't want to involve his compatriots in communicating with the human ship's crew. The Matriarchs are much more pragmatic and understandable to me personally on this issue.
I know my action isn't the best, but I also know that I can influence, even indirectly, the decisions of the Council of Matriarchs, and I cannot to the necessary extent influence the leadership of the Turian Hierarchy. Which means I need to play the cards right. Even if it's about actions against another Citadel race. After all, I'm not a Spectre like John for it to be a problem.
"If you see this, John, no offense, but it has to be this way. I think you understand," I whispered in the silence of the Shadow Broker's office, "well, let's begin."
The plan is as simple as a club: a Republic strike group will arrive in the system; they will draw the Turians' attention to themselves, and we will be able to pull the "Shadow Throne" through the Mass Relay and immediately take it into FTL. It's risky, but if we're fast, it will work. The Turians will detect the Mass Relay activation, but they won't be able to understand exactly who it was. Just what I need.
To persuade the Matriarchs to intervene, I had to try hard. They don't know who this is or what my interests are, but I had to promise them information about the Covenant that could be obtained on the human ship and which is unknown to them. Given the specifics of Citadel ships, they probably decided they were in a strong position. That I wouldn't be able to return except through the same system, which means they could dictate their position to the Shadow Broker's agent. We'll see.
When we talked to the Matriarch about intervention, I emphasized that the Asari lose nothing, only gain from the deal. The Turian Hierarchy took control of the system with unknown intentions. And a ship with a crew is potentially—concessions and resources that can be obtained if an agreement is reached. Which will be difficult if the Turian Hierarchy starts applying pressure. And they surely will.
The next point of the plan: communication. Another Quantum Entanglement address I sometimes use. So, filters set, number dialed. On the other side, a familiar furry-tailed, single-tailed figure appeared as a hologram. Interestingly, she's missing one arm; instead, there's a prosthesis, like a Geth arm, from the elbow down. Wounded? When and how? However, she smirked and waved with her healthy hand. Another source of my curiosity, who throws questions at me in every dialogue.
"Shadow Broker. To what do we owe the honor?"
Moment of truth.
"I have information for your masters. I am ready to sell it. For a worthy price."
The figure nodded.
"I think before disturbing the bosses, I should know a little bit more, hm?"
The Shadow Broker, visible as a shimmer devoid of any identifying marks, spoke in a hollow voice:
"I will say only the name of the ship: 'UNSC Spirit of Fire.'"
The figure on the other side turned serious so quickly I could barely catch the movement.
"What data is available? The price of the issue?"
Now the main thing is not to undersell.
"I know the coordinates of the ship. But not only me. Citadel forces wish to lay hands on the ship and its secrets. I know the condition of the ship; I can establish contact with the team and deliver a transmitter for communication to them. To confirm the information and get contact with the crew. They are alive; my subordinates confirm this."
The agent listened in silence, concentrated. Then she clarified:
"The price of the issue?"
And now I mustn't undersell. It's clear they won't give too much, but appetite comes with eating, right? First, I'll offer them communication, we'll take control of the ship, establish communication, and then we can ask for more.
"At the moment, my agents are ready to establish communication between your crew and your command through this transmitter. Of course, under our supervision. Any attempts to transmit the ship's coordinates at this stage will be suppressed. The price of the issue is sensor systems for exiting Hyperspace for Covenant ships. I also need information about the creators of the ring and a certain Captain Vorhess, who called himself Khaela."
This time the agent was silent for several minutes.
"That is a very generous demand just for communication. Effectively, we will only confirm that the ship is intact but won't be able to transmit much. After all, on your side, the communication will be controlled. I suggest leaving only the first point."
An argument. And yet, it's not so easy to give up.
"The first two. The beings contained on the ring. Vorhess mentioned their danger. We need more information. And the infected Asari left on the ring. All these are parts of a puzzle that may pose a danger to us. You cannot deny this."
Well, it's quite logical. Considering what measures were taken to destroy the beings.
"That is exactly why the information must remain secret. Greedy idiots exist among any race."
I disagree.
"Then we can strike a deal. I will notify you in case other sites of infection are discovered. Your new weapon... I suppose it can handle this. But I need information. About those who build structures compared to which the Citadel is a toy. And keep such beings on them. This is a mutually beneficial exchange, to prevent the spread of the infection through the galaxy. Who knows what will happen if these beings are released, hm? For... another service, commensurate with the information provided."
The wait dragged on, but in the end, I was answered:
"Fine, we agree to this deal. But you owe us one more service for the information; after all, it's too much for just one conversation with the crew. We will await the communication session."
Not bad. Although it's still a question of how much information about the ring the humans will give, but a start has been made. I smiled to myself: this is a victory, albeit a small one. When the projector went out, I went to Joker, to whom I had previously forwarded the plan.
"Can you pull the 'Shadow Throne' through the Mass Relay and then quickly take it into FTL? So that no one understands anything?"
The pilot smirked.
"You're asking the best of pilots if I can? Of course I can. But I can't make our cruiser invisible, so we still need a diversionary maneuver."```
I smiled.
"That is my concern. We just need to make sure our ship cannot be seen."
It worked quite well. Republic ships emerged from the mass relay carrying Republic diplomats. Turian Hierarchy interceptors began escorting them, communicating over the radio along the lines of: "What are you doing here? This is a Hierarchy military operations zone." The asari response, though more diplomatic, was: "We have received information regarding a human ship with a crew; there is a Republic diplomatic group on board." While the ships were measuring their authority, the Shadow Throne jumped out of the relay and immediately vanished into FTL, not allowing itself to be examined. Very quickly—the ship spent only a few seconds in detectable space. Joker laughed.
"That's how the Systems Alliance flies! They didn't stand a chance," and then to me, "Alright, boss. I've laid in the course; it'll take us the next three days to reach the target."
I smiled.
"Thank you, Jeff, you're the best. Soon we'll take a look at the human ship."
"Always the best, Liara. Always and in everything."
I couldn't help myself there.
"In everything except running, I assume?"
Joker thought for a moment and nodded.
"I suppose so; in running, I'm second."
We parted, pleased with the joke. Now, three days of travel to the human ship. The plan (in theory) was simple: Jalim keeps the Turians away from the crew pods, the Shadow Throne arrives with reinforcements, and the Hierarchy scouts (who, judging by the scout's design, numbered no more than six) are escorted out. Politely or not, depending on the situation. A shuttle can do little against a cruiser in any case. With a pilot like Joker, there's no chance at all.
Reality turned out to be a bit different and slapped us all down very quickly and quite painfully. Jalim sat in the compartment with the pods and reported, placing her helmet beside her:
"The ship is clearly not new, that's for sure. But some of the equipment is fairly new, judging by its appearance. Same with the weapons on the hull; I asked one of our girls to fly around and take a look. I'd guess the ship was refitted after construction. And yes, she saw movement. I'd guess the crew woke up, it's just that this section isn't being used."
I nodded.
"How many crew members are on board? In your opinion."
Jalim shrugged.
"Hundreds, maybe a couple thousand. We only opened a small portion of the compartments, but we found an emblem indicating cryopods. And that's hundreds, maybe thousands of sapient beings—humans. Wait a second."
Jalim snapped her rifle up, looking off to the side.
"What is it, Jalim? Report?"
"I think we attracted them somehow. We need to leave! Back to the transport! Move!"
Jalim turned around, and her hologram raised her hands with the weapon, then carefully lowered the rifle to the floor, looking to the side. Unfortunately, the projector was designed so that outside sounds wouldn't interfere.
"It's okay," Jalim said, "I surrender, big guy, see? Nice and quiet, no need to start shooting. Weapon's on the floor, I'm not resisting. Let's not complicate the situation."
A massive figure—too massive for a human in armor—stepped into the projector's field of view, a head taller than Jalim. Gray-green armor of a very recognizable design. Judging by the movement, the figure kicked the weapon away with its foot and turned the asari around, twisting her arms behind her back.
"A human warrior..." I exhaled, as the figure's helmet jerked toward me, staring at me. Or rather, at the hologram.
The figure pushed Jalim somewhere off-screen, looked at me, and asked:
"Are you her commander?"
I wanted to thank myself for my foresight: always use a filter so no one can tell who you are. Okay, pull yourself together and look professional. A quick click to activate the human language filter, and I replied:
"I am called the Shadow Broker. A galactic information trader. You can consider this luck. You can consider it fate. But I have taken an interest in this ship. And I can help you return home. If we strike a deal. If I am well paid. I like it when a client is generous."
The warrior remained silent, standing like a statue.
"Why should I believe you?"
If I translated correctly, it was a woman. You couldn't tell from the outside.
"Because the alternative is a fight with the Turian Hierarchy, whose scouts are also on board this ship. Because they will want to obtain all your knowledge from you. Weapons against the Covenant. I could do the same. Or I could use my transmitter and sell information about you to your intelligence. ONI, as you call them. Establish contact and negotiate to everyone's mutual benefit. But the choice is yours, of course; we can resolve everything however is most convenient for you. And yes, if you decide to negotiate, my team must not be harmed more than necessary. The choice is yours. Jalim knows how to contact me."
I cut the device. Now, all that was left was to wait.
***
UNSC Spirit of Fire (hull number CFV-88), Alice-130.
At the same time.
The hologram of the unidentifiable, blurred figure vanished, leaving me in thought while the Marines took the alien into custody. Serina had left us, but she had left warning systems that triggered upon the arrival of a man-made mechanism—a ship. One that didn't belong to humans and didn't look like a Covenant ship.
We watched for a while; the Captain wanted to know who they were and what they were doing here. We managed to figure out exactly where the xenos were and even see them using the internal surveillance systems. So similar to us, though not quite. A scout team. Captain Cutter ordered them taken alive if possible; it was fairly obvious they were studying the ship, talking to someone. To this Broker. And then one of the aliens opened a door, stumbling upon three technicians and the Marine guarding them. And surrendered to them. It was decided to take the others as well.
And now, looking at the calm, not-quite-human face of the alien, I was only amazed that from the front, she could pass for a human woman. In height, appearance, figure. Except she was blue and her facial features were somewhat non-standard. But even that wasn't a definitive sign; civilians mutilate themselves in all sorts of ways. If not for the noticeable combat training, one could say she was just a city dweller. A civilian who decided to stand out.
The fact that she surrendered only fueled curiosity, but also caution. I checked the handcuffs; they were tight, good.
"Take her things," I ordered a soldier.
He straightened for a second, saluting, and rushed to collect the weapons—also similar to our usual ones—and the transmitter container. A communication device; it needed to be shown to the specialists, they'd figure it out. Whoever her boss was, he knew about the Covenant, and humans, and ONI. And he knew English. And his subordinate?
"Do you understand me?" I asked the soldier—let's call her a non-human. Not an enemy yet, for now.
She glanced at the soldier examining the rifle in search of a magazine and remarked in a dual-toned voice:
"The lock key is on the right side, the blue one. Yes, that one," and turning to me, she added, "As you can see, I understand. We have a translator for your language. For the major human languages. Are the other Marines alive?"
Good, so the headset on her neck was indeed a translator. She spoke her own language, and the device translated. I ignored the question; let her be nervous.
"Who are you? Name, rank."
She frowned but answered.
"Jalim, Lieutenant to the Shadow Broker. Race—asari. You spoke with my boss."
Good, acceptable.
"What is your relationship with the Covenant?"
The alien answered this with clear disgust.
"They burned part of Palaven, destroyed several Turian colonies, Omega, went through the Migrant Fleet—I heard about millions dead there. Our relationship with them is shit. That's why everyone wants human weapons."
If it were a human, I'd say they weren't lying, but this wasn't a human. So we'll just keep it in mind for the future.
"The second expedition. Who are they?"
This time she answered with a delay. Those avian-descended creatures had put up resistance. They grabbed a nurse, and Major O'Neil smashed one of their heads with a chair. The Spartans killed the rest, as they had no intention of surrendering. A couple of wounded survived, but there were complications with treatment; the prisoners would likely die. Not like the Covenant; I'd guess that was why the Captain ordered an attempt to take these ones alive. The prisoner answered as she continued walking down the corridor.
"Turians. I think they want to trade you for a weapon sample. The Covenant burned a chunk of their capital and a couple of smaller colonies," after a few seconds' delay, she added, "And yes, we also intend to profitably trade you to your command. This is the Shadow Broker, an information trader—what do you expect?"
Fine. I immediately contacted the Marines.
"What's the status on the other aliens?"
Major Vaughan answered.
"Took two blue ones into custody. Surrendered without a fight; apparently, they were ordered not to resist. Taking them to the brig."
Excellent. The Spartan turned to the alien:
"Do you know how to treat Turians?"
She shook her head.
"I don't. I know how to kill them. And yes, they are dextro-amino acid based; your medications will only make them worse. They need their own food, too."
Now that was important information. The doctor, hearing the comment, replied:
"I stopped the bleeding as best I could, and what will be, will be. But it's good you warned us. Though not for everyone—one of them is dead."
Alright, that's all for now. To the Marines holding this asari, I ordered:
"To a cell with her, politely. I'll report to the Captain; he'll decide what to do with you."
Captain James Cutter listened to the report calmly, as if it were exactly as it should be, stroking a cat. Spock, the ship's cat, as everyone had previously thought, turned out to be of a somewhat different gender. But it's a cat, what of it?
Captain Cutter, a man with graying dark hair and a goatee, ran his hand over her (to which the animal stretched) and concluded:
"Interesting. So, we've been found by aliens who want to sell us to command for 'weapons against the Covenant.' And there are other aliens who first want to capture us and then sell us. And the first ones are so confident that they surrendered without a fight. And we now have a shuttle from the second aliens, while the first aliens' shuttle is hiding near the engines. We have just over a thousand men and women on board who survived the outbreak. And we are ready to fight for this ship, for our home, but is it necessary? Officer O'Neil, did the competitors of these asari say anything?"
The head of the medical department shook his head.
"No, sir. They aren't particularly talkative, and the last survivor clearly isn't feeling his best. Besides, I ran tests, and the data was confirmed—these are dextro-amino acid creatures with a different physiology. We can't help them with anything, and our medicines are more likely to finish the last of them off than help."
Andrew Prescott, the Chief Engineer, added:
"Their shuttle lacks conventional controls; I'd guess it's holograms or implants built into the body. And the shuttle's power plant... I've never seen anything like it, sir. It's hard for me to say how it even works. If you'll allow me, I'll ask the prisoners."
"Do you think soldiers know more?" Lieutenant Green clarified with some skepticism. "I wouldn't count on it."
But the Chief Engineer answered confidently:
"Maybe they know at least the general principles of operation. Or, at the very least, how to pilot it. Because this is the first time I've seen technology like this. It's not like what the Covenant uses. The weapons are similar, though the principle is unusual."
The Captain listened and sighed.
"So, we won't be able to use the shuttle at the moment. And our primary option is contact with intelligence through the Shadow Broker, whoever he may be. A galactic information trader, hm. A grand name."
"If he really cooperates with intelligence, sir, this is our chance," O'Neil allowed himself to say. "Ultimately, the guns are still with us. We can just listen to what he has to say."
"Sir, if I may," the Spartan finally asked, "Their weapons? What about them?"
The engineer brought up a hologram.
"It's rail-based. The design uses a strange metal that reduces the mass of the projectile when an electric charge is applied, allowing it to fire a slug while ignoring some laws of physics. Otherwise, the weapon is clearly designed for a human-like humanoid. Perhaps of a different height or build, but similar. Anything else?"
I see.
"No, sir. Thank you, sir."
And so it was decided. The Captain arrived at the compartment chosen for the conversation (no telling what kind of equipment was on that transmitter) and asked the blue warrior woman, who really did look like a human, to establish a connection. The Spartan stood nearby, just in case, monitoring the alien. But she didn't even try to attack, working with the device. It seemed the engineer was right—implants in her hands or augmented reality. I'll need to find out what the medics discovered; they surely dissected the dead. It'll be useful for future operations.
The formless hologram formed over the projector again. I nodded to the Captain; the hologram was the same. The hologram spoke:
"Jalim. Report."
The asari pointed at us.
"The Captain of the ship wants to speak with you," at this, she turned to the humans and explained, "Step closer; the device's range is two meters in front, in this direction. Then you will be seen."
The man stepped to where he was told.
"I am Captain James Cutter, commanding officer of the Spirit of Fire. Identify yourself."
The projection showed no emotion.
"The Shadow Broker, information trader," the voice was muffled and synthetic; it was impossible to tell the gender or age of the speaker, nothing.
Just in case, the Spartan stood so as to shield the Captain from both an attack and any signs of the device self-destructing. Who knows, maybe this was an attempt to sabotage a senior officer. The Captain nodded.
"Glad to hear we were noticed after all. Though I expected somewhat different guests on board my ship."
"I understand," the synthetic voice replied, "And yet your ship has attracted the attention of the galactic community. That cannot be undone. You are a prize for which a struggle is currently underway. And I am your chance for a favorable outcome."
The Captain frowned.
"I wouldn't advise threatening me. This ship might not be new, but it is our home. And if necessary, we will fight for it. This ship is capable of much. And you won't like the surprises."
It was impossible to catch any intonation from the speaker. There simply was none. Although the language was definitely English—presumably a translation.
"I had no intention of threatening you. I am simply stating a fact. Not long ago, humanity used a weapon to inflict serious damage on the Covenant. People will not give it up just like that. Draw your own conclusions."
The Captain replied sternly:
"They will want to use us for trade. I am against it. And I will not allow us to be used in your games."
At this, a synthetic laugh rang out.
"Unfortunately for you, the choice is not yours to make, Captain. You and your ship are a trophy, Captain. A stake. To save the lives of your crew, you will have to choose. Or a choice will be made for you. Refusing to choose is also a choice, Captain."
But the man was not moved. Captain Cutter continued to stare sternly into the shadow. Finally, he spoke.
"To choose, one should hear all the options, not just one."
"Correct, Captain. But soon you will realize that it is I who can offer the best stake for you. Soon, in two days, my long-range scout will arrive. Your command has purchased a long-range communication session with you. My agent will deliver a transmitter by shuttle that you can use. Or not. Perhaps you won't even have to make a choice. It will be made for you."
The battle of wills between the human and the eyeless shadow continued.
"And you are so sure it will be in your favor, Broker?"
"This deal is beneficial to both parties, Captain. Think about what you will say to your intelligence. My ship will reach your location in two days. Prepare. I will await your decision only until the ship arrives. You have been warned."
With that, the hologram vanished. The Captain nodded, and the asari was led away. The man turned to us and said:
"Gather as much information as possible. Priority—determining our location. If he didn't lie, we'll be able to report where help should arrive. I'll be on the bridge."
Well then. We have a plan of action. Let's begin.
***
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