Liara T'Soni. Shadow Throne.
The ship is impressive. A colossal dreadnought, not the beautiful, rounded, light asari ships. Sharp angles, dark metal, and a multitude of guns pointed in different directions. At the same time, craters, chips, and a jagged hole along the side are visible—the ship has clearly been in battles. But it still looks extremely dangerous, bristling with weapons. Such a colossal flying city.
Joker positioned the Shadow Throne behind the stern, where our scout had been hiding before. As the pilot correctly guessed:
"There will be fewer guns there. If anything happens, we'll bolt. I don't like this ship. Harsh, angular. Not like the SSV Normandy."
I reminded him:
"The Shadow Throne isn't a beauty either. Lightning rod needles, shields."
To which the pilot only shrugged.
"It's stylish. A real Dark Lord's ship. All those spikes—it's just missing the skulls. And the Spirit of Fire? Yeah, it's big, lots of guns."
"They are decent people, Jeff. Closed off, yes, but decent. But it is big, of course."
And yes, the commandos take turns keeping the ship ahead of us in their sights so as not to miss a boarding party of unexpected guests. I specifically ordered not to bleed the static from the capacitors, so that the lightning jumping across them would unnerve our neighbors. And to keep a larger distance, but that was Joker's idea. We saw human transports several times; they didn't attack or approach, but they were present.
"Never seen such a behemoth. If the Systems Alliance had dreadnoughts like that, we would've given the Turians a thrashing in the First Contact War too. I wonder what Garrus would think if he were here..." Joker said thoughtfully.
The Raloi, appearing on the bridge, agreed.
"What a big flying... not a house, a city. Do you have ones like that?" she asked me.
I nodded.
"The Destiny Ascension, the flagship guarding the Citadel, the galactic capital. The asari built it."
The blue-violet Raloi clicked her beak.
"I've seen pictures. So that's how big it is. It looks small in pictures, no comparison. But it's big. Not small, no."
This caused a break in the Raloi's mental model when she saw a hologram of a Krogan at full height. The five-foot Raloi loses to Wrex in every parameter and looks like a child next to him. I involuntarily smiled. Of course, pictures don't convey the scale.
"Come on, Joker, contact them."
He nodded.
"What should we call ourselves? I don't think using our real name is a good idea. Which template?"
The ship has different identification templates, just in case. I pointed to the appropriate one.
"We are a long-range scout ship. So, the sixth."
Joker scanned the list, selecting and activating the identifiers. Now all the official transmitters on board the ship changed their digital signature. The quantum transmitters didn't have signatures before anyway.
"The Wanderer, then. Got it," the pilot's fingers flew across the control panel, "Wanderer calling Spirit of Fire. How do you hear me?"
A couple of seconds of static, and they answered us. The voice was a bit fuzzy; apparently, the equipment wasn't of the best quality. Or old, as Jalim said.
"Hear you loud and clear, Wanderer," and then quieter, likely not for our ears, they added, "Not bad English for an alien."
Joker immediately smirked.
"I was born on Arcturus, gramps. I realize that for planet-siders that's far away, but not that far!" and then realized what he'd blurted out.
I just waved my hand.
"You're going to meet with me anyway; we agreed on that."
But they reacted on the other side.
"Wait, Arcturus? The Arcturus colony? Are you a human?"
Receiving my nod, Jeff replied:
"Arcturus Station, you landlubber. Yeah, I'm human. Surprise, humans are so cool that we get hired all over the galaxy. They even held an auction for me when they were deciding what my salary would be."
Pure truth. I even had to put a significant figure in the payroll so there wouldn't be questions about why Jeff moved to me. This way, I outbid them, and that was that.
Then the already familiar stern voice of the Captain rang out.
"Welcome, Wanderer, wherever we are. And stop clogging the line; you can gossip later. So, your Broker is served by humans as well. Hm. When can you deliver the transmitter on board?"
I took the transmitter and replied:
"I prefer to meet on neutral territory. Who guarantees that you will return the device to us? No one. So we'll use shuttles, especially since you have one."
The Captain listened, then asked:
"Who are you? You haven't introduced yourself."
Indeed.
"Dr. N'Lari, archaeologist and sociologist, private specialist. I have been asked to act as a mediator in the negotiations. I suggest using two shuttles to meet halfway between our ships. Jalim happens to know how to pilot the Turian craft among others; she can handle it. The ships' airlocks are compatible, unlike ours and yours."
"You've thought of everything..." the Captain said thoughtfully.
I smiled, though he couldn't see it.
"If you worked for my employer, you'd do the same. So, do you agree?"
The man didn't think for long.
"Yes, my officer will arrive on board with an escort."
Excellent.
"Agreed. But I have a condition. No warriors on board."
"Warriors?" they asked with doubt from the other side.
Clearly, they aren't called that.
"A warrior larger than the average representative of the species. Like the one who grabbed Jalim. We are sufficiently aware of their capabilities. If one appears among the contact group, there will be no deal. Even if we have to blow up the ship."
The Captain was silent for a minute.
"Fine. But a human will arrive among your group. The one who spoke at the beginning."
I looked at Joker.
"Agreed. And since you've agreed, I was going to bring him anyway," and I cut the connection, "Let's go, Jeff, we're going to get acquainted. Luan, with us."
The pilot looked at me with doubt:
"Are you planning to rig the ship with explosives?"
I sighed.
"Mining is part of the standard equipment. Yeah, I found out myself not long ago. The Broker feared betrayal. So the explosives were removed from your pilot's chair. And from the instrument panel too."
Joker flinched.
"Thanks. Paranoid bastard."
Agreed. Though he couldn't be any other way. Even so, Shadow Brokers don't die of natural causes—at least the last couple definitely didn't, and there are hints about those before them too. Sooner or later, his own people get to a boss who missed something.
***
Major Vaughan, Spirit of Fire.
Even if this xeno-doctor is categorically against Spartans in walking distance (and let's be honest, if she's seen them in battle, one can understand the desire), there are still the ODST. Tough guys with good equipment and combat experience, including in such confined spaces. On board the shuttle were the blue pilot, Lieutenant Green, and four ODST specialists as guards, led by the Major. It was a bit cramped in the shuttle, so the soldiers would rely on shotguns and submachine guns. As this Jalim explained, their ship was a long-range scout, lightened as much as possible to avoid problems with the engine's specifics.
Naturally, the Major listened so he would know what to expect. The fact that their FTL, though fast, was tied to relatively short distances, was explained precisely by the engine's peculiarities. And to a subordinate's question about how that spiked thing had flown to us, Jalim replied:
"See the static? The lightning? That's how it flew here. Approaching the hull is dangerous; it'll fry you in an instant. The static is still there, and there's nowhere to discharge it."
Ahead of the shuttle they were flying in, and behind the stern of the Spirit of Fire, the dark metal shield on the nose of the second ship was gradually growing. Small, about the size of a frigate, and of a strange shape. Who puts a reinforced shield on the nose of a ship? And those spikes—though there was at least logic in them. The Lieutenant asked the talkative blue pilot:
"So you're saying you trade with Earth?"
The news that a race of aliens had finally been found that wasn't trying to kill us on sight caused doubt. Huge doubts among the crew. As did these blue ones themselves. They were strange somehow. And strangely similar to humans. Suspicious. Jalim replied:
"Officially? No, of course not; officially we're in conflict. But you guys slept through some events. A certain seaweed grows on your planet; they make very powerful medications from it that boost regeneration and tissue cleansing. A suit's med-block can close up bullet holes in minutes."
The soldier didn't believe it and snorted.
"What about organs? Shrapnel?"
The asari just shrugged, quite human-like. Suspicious. Her too. All of this was wildly suspicious.
"Organs, yes, you need medical supervision there. And shrapnel... Tell me, soldier, which is better for you: extensive bleeding or pieces of metal in your body that can be cut out later?"
There was no counter-argument. If it really closed and stopped things that well, it really was better to close it up first. It could be cut out later, in a calm environment.
"Still sounds too easy. And the seaweed is only from Earth. Are there really no analogues?"
"There are, of course," the pilot grimaced, "mostly they run that crap from Omega. A couple of times I had to finish off idiots after that 'treatment.' The regeneration goes wrong, and the body gets covered in chaotically growing tumors that fuse with the armor. Brrr. That's a case where it's better to bleed out than that. But the normal, high-quality stuff costs a lot. And there are always suicidal types."
They fell silent. That outcome sounded disgusting, of course. But it was still better to live to see the surgeons that way than just to die. But that was just a soldier's opinion. This Jalim, who looked like a soldier too, might have seen and thought differently.
Halfway there, a shuttle of a different design hovered—not sharp and angular like ours, but also white. If this one resembled the silhouette of a bird with sharp angles, the second was more rounded, oval. Different races, of course.
The last captured Turian survived; they were feeding him from the supplies of his own ship, this very one, but he didn't answer questions. He either didn't understand or pretended not to. Regardless, not his problem; let ONI deal with it, that's their job. When both ships docked and the doors opened, the man saw the team from the other side. Four more soldiers like Jalim, in the same white armor without identifying marks. The Broker's soldiers, presumably.
He wondered why specifically asari. He'd have to find out later what made them so good. The last two consisted of the same asari, but instead of armor, she was in blue-and-white clothes, and a human male with a goatee and a cap, sitting on a crate.
Seeing him, the Marine felt irritation. After all, voluntary cooperation with aliens. A collaborator. But behind the solid ODST armor, the Marine's displeasure wasn't visible. A traitor. But he couldn't—though there would be a chance to talk later.
The Lieutenant kept his face straight, or he didn't care, and took a step forward.
"Dr. N'Lari? Glad to meet you. I am Lieutenant Green; I am here to conduct negotiations with headquarters."
The asari in white clothes stepped forward and bowed. She wore a respiratory mask on her face and a plastic or crystalline visor over her eyes.
"Greetings, Lieutenant. I am glad to meet you. I am ready to conduct the communication session."
The officer nodded and stepped aside to the transmitter seen earlier on Jalim's ship. The asari began setting up the device, good. The Major himself approached the human.
"Mind if I join you?"
The man looked up at the figure in the sealed armor and smirked. As if to say: "I know what you're thinking." How he... irritates. The man moved over, and the Major noted how carefully he acted. He wondered why.
"Have a seat. Haven't crossed paths with humans in a while. Maybe I'll hear something new; haven't been to Earth in a long time."
The soldier sat down, examining the companion, who was doing the same. A middle-aged man, heavily unshaven, in a cap that definitely said "SR-2" in English. A white leather jacket without identifying marks, but with clear attachments for epaulets. A uniform? But the appearance of the uniform was unfamiliar; it definitely wasn't a UNSC uniform. Likely the aliens' whom the human served. The man was clearly nervous, not seeing the companion's eyes. On the bright side, his clothes didn't look like Covenant gear. There were no symbols, and the writing on the cap was clearly in our letters. He should probably introduce himself.
"Major Vaughan, UNSC Spirit of Fire."
The man nodded.
"Jeff Moreau, Joker to my friends. Ship Wanderer, pilot."
But he didn't name a state; suspicious.
"And rank?"
Joker flinched but answered anyway.
"Lieutenant, Systems Alliance Navy. And yes, you don't know what the 'Systems Alliance' is; it happened while you were asleep in the freezer. I'm damn good at all this. So my talent found a use. I'm amazing!"
Fine, let's assume so.
"And what did they buy you for, kid?"
The slight smile vanished from the man's face.
"They didn't buy me. On the contrary, your commanders didn't want to buy me. All of us, the humans from the SSV Normandy, were called traitors. So I had a choice: take a bullet or find a better place. And it's not for you to blame me for not wanting to die on the orders of people I don't know."
Interesting.
"And what did the crew of the SSV Normandy do? I don't think a ship and the entire crew were just written off. Especially like that. Sold out to the rebels? Helped them with terrorist attacks and then didn't want to answer for it?"
The pilot thought for a moment and replied:
"You wouldn't believe it anyway. When you get home, you'll read about it, you'll understand. For now, you can think I was too good a pilot and too inconvenient a person. Will that answer do?"
Doesn't like it, does he? Regardless, the Lieutenant is currently talking to the hologram of an officer. Talking calmly; non-verbal signs were passed, so it really is command. Of course, no one will say anything important in front of strangers, but still. It's important that we are heard. It means we really do have a connection, even if it's through these intergalactic traders. To Joker, the Major replied:
"Why don't you try me? Nothing else to do anyway. Maybe I'll believe you."
The man hesitated and replied:
"The story of the SSV Normandy is like a fairy tale. We aren't from your reality. We don't have any UNSC or Covenant there. And instead of your state, there was the Systems Alliance of human systems. I'm a military pilot of their Navy. And when we were thrown here, by a ridiculous accident, the mass relay worked like a time machine; we started looking for a way home. And your command decided we wanted to bring aliens to Earth and declared us traitors. And yes, I know how that sounds; you don't have to remind me, Major. I told you, you wouldn't believe it."
Hm. Maybe I do believe you.
"You know, after certain miracles, I might believe you. Creatures out there turning people into monsters. Miracles of technology. Maybe this relay of yours is one of those miracles. How about explaining what it even is?"
At my comment, the asari-doctor—whatever her name was—jerked sharply.
"Tell me," she said thoughtfully, making a gesture with her hands to show the size, "did these creatures happen to be about this size, with tentacles, red feelers? They burrow into the chest cavity, cutting it open with a beak, and mutating the victim into an extremely resilient beast with whip-blades? And they are wildly, just beyond..."
how difficult is it to get them out?
As the doctor spoke, all conversation ceased. The soldier was absolutely certain that the crew of the UNSC Spirit of Fire was turning pale at the memories of the outbreak on the ship that had claimed so many lives. Half the crew hadn't survived the escape when the creatures began clogging the compartments, killing everyone in sight.
"You've encountered these beings?" the lieutenant asked, much to the displeasure of the officer he had been speaking with. The officer couldn't see what was happening beyond a certain radius around the projector and was predictably annoyed.
The Asari nodded.
"A few months ago. My sister is infected and in stasis; a spike from one of those things is lodged in her body. I am prepared to buy a copy of all information regarding what happened from you. About the creatures, how to fight them, how to treat it. Everything."
Oh, I see. So this shit exists in the galaxy. That is very bad news.
"I'm sorry about your sister, but I'm not sure she can be helped at all," the Major said, reading the clearly fading hope in her eyes. "What happened with that filth in your case? It's dangerous; it must be destroyed."
"It was destroyed," the Asari replied in a hollow tone. "Burned along with everything it was on. One guy said the thing spreads more slowly while the organism is still alive, that it could be cured. He lied, then. Continue, the comm session isn't over yet. I won't interfere."
The doctor sat down and, in a very human gesture, buried her forehead in her knees. One of the blue soldiers approached and placed a hand on her back. It couldn't be said that the Major didn't sympathize with her. Not after what the crew of the UNSC Spirit of Fire had gone through. But he didn't want to lie. What they had initially identified as a disease turned out to be an aggressive life form, extremely dangerous. It had spread through the ship like a plague, and it was still not entirely clear how. And the fact that this crap existed somewhere other than the destroyed planet did not inspire optimism.
Nor did the fact that, on a purely human level, he felt sorry for this xeno who had lost her sister to these creatures. Even though greed and the desire to profit from the ship and its crew had brought them here. Still, family was important. And watching your loved ones turn into those things... you wouldn't wish that on your worst enemy. Though, for The Covenant—maybe he would. But these blue ones had only been noticed for their greed so far; that could be tolerated.
Finally, the negotiations ended, and the personnel boarded their shuttles, each heading back to their respective ships. The Major broke the silence with a question:
"What did command say?"
The lieutenant tried to smile.
"They're going to ransom us, sir. Not until command reaches an agreement with these traders, but they'll buy us back. For now, we're ordered to hold position and wait for orders. I think they weren't even sure we were alive themselves, sir."
"Well, we're alive and ready to kick ass. What else?"
The lieutenant replied after a short delay.
"Regarding information, it's suggested we contact the agents of this Shadow Broker. Don't trust them; treat them like corporats from the colonies. But they can tell and show us a lot; command will foot the bill. We're allowed to know the current news of the galaxy. As they put it, we've missed many events. And the war with The Covenant hasn't gotten any better or simpler, Major. I'll tell you more when we get back. The Captain will want to hear this."
Understood. Not enemies, but we need to be ready for them to fleece us for every request. In any case, it's good news, for the most part. Except for the news about The Covenant. As for the traders, well, that's business. Need to report to the Captain; he'll decide.
***
Liara remained silent the whole way, thinking about Li. Could the humans be wrong? Could Vorhess have lied? The answer to both questions was yes. They could be mistaken, and he could have lied. That meddling and greedy individual, whoever he was, was certainly not a decent sentient. Not that a former agent and now the Shadow Broker could reproach anyone for greed, but that didn't make Vorhess or Khaela any less of a bastard for whatever he was doing in the Batarian Hegemony. What mattered was something else.
The humans' reaction to the description of the creatures Vorhess once called a parasite—and feared to the point of panic—suggested that the crew of this ship had experience dealing with them.
Liara mentally admitted that if the humans wouldn't sell the data, she was ready to try storming the ship to get to it. There weren't many commandos on board, but these humans, in theory, were unfamiliar with biotics. And the Raloi had been prudently locked in the cockpit as an argument in case of a warrior. With this much biotics, a theft wasn't impossible. She needed to think everything through; it might work.
But that was a last resort. She had to keep a cool head, or she'd make mistakes. And if anyone needed to be squeezed for information, it was Vorhess. Or Khaela, the AI. EDI too... EDI. EDI... That doctor, whatever her name was, at the Martian base who almost killed Kaidan. And then EDI occupied that platform. And there was a slot for an AI made to the Illusive Man's order. Goddess.
"Wait," I exhaled, stunned.
"What?" the commando asked.
I waved her off.
"Just a thought. How did I not realize? I'm an idiot!"
Of course, they have EDI! I'm an idiot, an idiot, an idiot! Humans use AI, EDI uses a platform that the Illusive Man disguised as a doctor. Yes, the skin burned off during the Mars mission, and EDI no longer looked human. But the original platform did!
A VI couldn't have disguised itself as a human so well, but what if there's an AI? And that would explain exactly how the humans managed to destabilize the Batarians! They studied EDI and created an army of those like her. Like Vorhess! But if so, are the Reclaimers mentioned by the Monitor humans? Not enough information.
But it still adds up. Rumor has it the Batarian Hegemony fell during the Reaper Invasion due to indoctrination, the study of a Reaper. And when the Reapers arrived, the Hegemony leadership gave contradictory orders and sabotaged their own state and defense. The Reapers took it with minimal resistance. What if the humans used controlled AI puppets for this and acted on the same principle? These humans, they are like Cerberus; they think like the Illusive Man. It... could work. Goddess, it's... it's a nightmare; any person you talk to could be such a planted marionette. Goddess, it's terrifying!
If Vorhess was a marionette from the start, controlled by an AI, created so humans could be everywhere, infiltrating the ranks of the Council Races... This needs to be thought over. Thought over well, as the possibilities for such a practice are enormous. Colossal, beyond limits! I need to understand how to counteract this. And can someone high-ranking be replaced? Probably not, or not immediately. Better a secretary first, to observe the leader's behavior, and then... How horrifying. Okay, Liara, calm down, think about the information, about archaeology, about Dalama. There, that's better. It's not all that bad, right? You can handle this.
And this ship—it shouldn't be dismissed as a source of unique knowledge. Ultimately, they will return to their own; it's inevitable.
"Joker, what did they want from you?"
The man looked away from his piloting and replied with a slightly trembling voice:
"Their Major was pestering me about how I sold out. I think he took me for one of his own officers. But when you mentioned the monsters, it threw him off. Thanks, because I didn't know what to say."
"What about a joke?" the commando asked. "Usually, when you don't know what to say, you do that."
"People like that Major don't understand jokes. Also, he had a weapon and a tone like he wanted to wring my neck but was holding back."
I nodded, looking at the pensive Luan. It's a bit hard for me to read Raloi emotions, but she seems lost in thought.
"What is it, Luan?"
The bird raised her head, looking at me with silver eyes.
"Not used to it. Everything is so strange, so different. I'll rest, then say more."
Everything was clear; she was overwhelmed.
The journey to the Shadow Throne passed in silence. But right at the entrance, another Asari, acting as my deputy while I was busy, ran up to us. She rushed over and blurted out:
"The Covenant is on Erinle! They attacked the Geth forces, their blockade! And a landing on the surface!"
That's the world leading to the ring. A coincidence, or did The Covenant just attack the Geth out of revenge?
"How many ships?" I clarified immediately.
"About nine hundred, including two super-dreadnoughts. The Geth are resisting, but against a fleet like that... They've already begun the landing."
Goddess. And yet, why there? What do they want—the world itself, the humans, the Geth, or the ring? Who knows. But regardless, this must be dealt with. If The Covenant finds out about the ring, who knows what they'll do. And they might, if they overrun the Salarian agents. Something must be done, at least a hint to the Geth, or the humans.
If we can't intercept them, at least destroy it. I have no idea what that ring does, but what I've already seen suggests—The Covenant must not have it. Under no circumstances.
Shit, there isn't even time to think about Li. I have to work. I went to the console, checking filters and connecting to the system. It seems I'll have to talk to the humans.
"Shadow Broker, you're early today," replied a tailed and eared individual, glancing at a mechanical prosthetic arm that resembled a Geth limb. It probably was one.
"I have information for you about Erinle. Urgent. Even more urgent than the news that the planet is under attack by The Covenant."
The tailed one became deathly serious.
"I'm listening. Name your price."
Business had begun.
***
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