The M15 Mastodon is tearing along the evening highway again, occasionally changing route to bypass abandoned cars. Visibility is about thirty meters; rain is drumming on the roof, with flashes of lightning and thunder. Sometimes the clouds in the sky light up with flashes. A reminder that the battle continues above us.
Inside, there is silence and order; the troopers are clinking against each other like armored pins; someone is cleaning a weapon; Noble Two is monitoring the area through an external camera. I set the Avatar to a secondary perception stream and occupied myself with other matters. Fortunately, the arrogant Asari isn't in the way.
Tomoko, the sweet little fox, is helping evacuate a research center that the Covenant took an interest in. A "sacred temple of the gods," yeah. And since the possessed doesn't have normal armor, she has to run and dodge, using foresight to the fullest.
On Earth, in a megapolis ghetto, a girl of about ten is running, though she's as much a child as I am an admiral. She just stole keys from a patrol and is taking them to the rebels. The rebels think it's a success, that a little beggar thief will be their key to a terrorist attack in a government building. ONI ODSTs think otherwise.
Dana and Jacob Reyes are deriving an eleven-dimensional formula for Element Zero based on data obtained in a laboratory ship using an unstable field, while a hologram reports to the Vice Admiral, simultaneously running five thousand simulations of the Infinity project. A normal working atmosphere and core load in the yellow zone. As a result, the fact that they aren't trying to kill us and I don't have to transfer more resources to the Avatar is convenient.
An hour into the journey, a few kilometers to the right, a Covenant ship slammed into the ground with a roar, burning and exploding. From the impact, the ship crumpled, detonating and turning into a blue torch visible even through the downpour. But even this explosion was effectively hidden behind a wall of water a few seconds later.
The Asari is sleeping; the Spartans have relaxed. Catherine, Noble Two, went to the cargo compartment and is resting, and in her place sits our perennial leader, Noble One. He looked at the Avatar, then at the road (visibility about twenty meters), and asked:
"How much longer to the target?"
Since I am tracking our path, I answered immediately:
"One hour and forty minutes. Ten minutes ago we bypassed a Covenant outpost; I drove around it."
"You didn't say," the group commander noted with dissatisfaction, "that could have been a problem."
The Avatar just waved it off.
"Drove around in a wide arc. The weather isn't fit for flying. Covies, however you feel about them, stay in cover in a downpour like this instead of getting soaked. Even if they saw us, tracking would be difficult; you can see for yourself, visibility is near zero."
The man fell silent, and we continued driving along the highway in the darkness and under the drum of the rain. Then the machine burst onto a frozen glass field. A huge trail from a plasma bolt hit, already solidified—many kilometers of matter melted together. Nothing recognizable remained. No buildings, no vehicles, no highway under the wheels; everything had fused into a single layer called glass, though it wasn't glass in the usual sense.
"Let's hope the factory we need was also destroyed," the Avatar noted boringly into the void.
It wasn't destroyed. An hour and a half later, we returned to the highway, passed burned-out automated trucks, and approached the factory checkpoint. At first glance, the structure was small—a few three-story buildings enclosed by a fence. Instead of a checkpoint booth, there was a melted structure, indicating a Plasma Grenade hit. And the scorched body of a Salarian, fused with the armor, apparently.
"So, looks like the Covenant was here. Great," the Avatar noted sarcastically, "are we going in?"
I looked around. On the right, the building was intact; the warehouse opposite also looked relatively functional. But on the left was a mess of fused stone and metal. And that clearly wasn't done by a grenade; I'm betting on a Wraith. The sensors were able to perceive all this in the second it took for Noble One to make a decision.
"Level it," Noble One ordered, "we'll hide the M15 Mastodon inside."
I immediately began moving, ramming the metal, partially open gates. If they had been holding on before, after the plasma fire and some pressure, the leaf simply fell inward with a screech. And the screech itself was drowned out by the noise of the rain. The APC jerked, bounced, and drove onto the territory. The troopers, while I carefully steered the machine, looked around through the firing ports. No life, no movement. Only us and no one else. Although there were traces of fire, and weapons were lying in several places. Corpses—ah, no, there are some. By the destroyed structure, a hand is visible in a puddle; a couple of charred bodies are behind cover. But that's all.
"There was a big battle here," the Asari noted, "though there are almost no corpses."
True, only the most charred and torn apart.
"No spikes in sight?" the Avatar inquired, "I can't see from my position."
An important question: if there are no corpses, they were either burned or mounted on spikes. The second option means trouble.
"Negative," Noble Three reported.
"Nothing on my side either," the Asari added, "only rain and traces of battle. The hangar door on the right is blown out."
The Avatar turned, nodded, assessing the room, and drove the machine inside. The door, obviously, was melted by plasma. A standard hangar door for trucks, so our M15 Mastodon would fit. Without a word, Noble Three along with the Asari jumped out into the rain, heading into the building for reconnaissance. The rest of the squad, except for me and Noble One, remained outside, targeting the enemy here. Naturally, in total darkness, thanks to night vision devices.
From my position, I saw a completely standard warehouse unloading zone. There were drive-ins, and there was a higher platform for unloading directly at the level of the truck bed. And there was at least one vehicle.
"Eight spikes inside, but no one is moving," Noble Three reported, having previously disappeared into the building.
"Are the bodies fresh?" the leader immediately clarified.
"Negative," Noble Three replied, "not fresh, somewhat rotted, changes are visible under the skin, eyes are glassy, synthetics are visible. But they're inactive for now."
"Clear them out."
After waiting for the scouts to turn off the spikes and deal with the corpses, I drove the M15 Mastodon into the warehouse. With a screech as it rolled over the melted hangar shutters, the machine stopped, and I looked around. Three automated trucks, traces of battle, and chaos. The traces of battle were left by the Covenant and the locals; makeshift barricades of crates pierced by shots were clearly visible. One of the trucks was scorched but had clearly been extinguished. Only heavily charred, partially boiled, and decomposed corpses remained. The exception was those on the spikes. Judging by the grimacing Asari, the aromas weren't particularly tasty.
Having made sure it was empty inside, we dispersed through the room in search of any information. A perfectly ordinary warehouse, though some of the containers were forced open; a search had been conducted. There was no electricity as a matter of fact; the wiring led to the destroyed building.
"Clear."
A terminal was found in a small room on the second floor. Likely the warehouse manager's. The Avatar immediately connected. A few seconds later, the Asari appeared behind her shoulder.
"Anything interesting?" she asked, attracting the attention of the others.
The Avatar smirked.
"Invoices for cargo. Но what's interesting isn't that. Didn't you notice anything strange?"
The Asari looked around, but Noble Four beat her to it.
"The terminal is working. There's no electricity, but the terminal is working."
I nodded.
"Ex-actly. The generator outside was clearly taken out by a Wraith. But this specific terminal is working. And there's absolutely nothing interesting on it; it's just working."
We began looking for the place the terminal was connected to. Wiring, anything. We found it after half an hour of searching. It turned out to be a small square platform in the corner of the warehouse with a false wall. Opened by a system command from the terminal—though I didn't understand which one exactly; the terminal simply forwards everything typed on it to the other side. Regardless, we simply destroyed the false wall and found, essentially, an elevator. The locks were blown; I assume the shutter was simply put back in place manually. Noble One looked at us and ordered:
"Noble Two, Three, and Four, stay here and guard the transport. Noble Five, Six, and the Asari—we're going down."
What the Asari didn't find out was that the surface control squad wouldn't be waiting for us here, but would head for a Pelican. No offense, Tela, you don't need to know that. Or what happens next.
In the end, three remained on the surface, and four went down. They went deep—about a hundred meters, at a guess.
Upon arrival, we were met by a long corridor ending in what was clearly a security post and a burned-out turret. Blown apart by plasma. Inside, fragmented guards in full armor were found. The Asari whistled.
"In a confined space. They're psychos."
I took a few steps forward, paying attention to the scratches on the floor, the nature of the plasma explosion, and the ricochets of bullets on the walls at different angles. Noble One, keeping his aim on the blown-out door and the corridor behind it, asked:
"Mgalekgolo?"
I nodded, pointing at the tracks.
"The very ones. Sharp Eye says: two Mgalekgolo emerged from the elevator, covering themselves with shields, and fired once. The first shot leveled the security post, the second bent the door. Whoever survived inhaled hot plasma and died anyway; their lungs burned," I pointed to the scratches by the blown-out door and the clearly melted shutter, "the door held against the shot, but they broke it out themselves. In a narrow space, and the Mgalekgolo were facing forward. The guards of this place didn't have even a theoretical chance of surviving."
We moved through the corridors of the base, examining the creative rampage of a pair of Mgalekgolo. There were traces of orange blood, but not much. But there was an abundance of burned metal-organic mincemeat. But the further we went, the more traces of just plasma there were.
"The Mgalekgolo were reinforced by Covenant forces."
The Asari smirked, peering into a side room.
"Yeah, the rampage decreased. And what's this? Robots?"
I peered into where the Asari had gone. And there was a lot of interesting stuff in this warehouse. Geth, Forerunner robots, and Mendicant Bias robots. Covenant weapons and pieces of unfamiliar mechanisms, crystalline circuits. In pieces, packed in crates. Fragments of Forerunner devices. Four floors of shelving and crates on them, some lowered and opened. The Asari picked up a damaged Sentinel Beam with interest.
"I remember a toy like this in the records," she pointed it at the wall and connected two small crystals, "only this one doesn't work, damn. Looks like this is a warehouse with STG loot. Thrifty guys."
Logical. Moreover, I think the Salarians would have far more than one warehouse like this. We need more data. We moved further down the corridor, along which offices were found on one side and more and more warehouses on the other. With Forerunner, Covenant, and Geth devices. There is electricity here, but no living beings. There are no corpses in decent condition either, and I don't like that.
Noble Five connected to a terminal, downloading data, while we continued the inspection. I stopped at another closed door, the penultimate one in the corridor. But I'm in no hurry to press the green activation hologram in the center of the door; something is definitely moving in there.
Noble One, seeing my hesitation, pressed against the wall and gave a silent nod. I counted down on my fingers: three, two, one. Then I simultaneously pressed the opening hologram and jumped aside, leaving a grenade in my place.
The wall where I had just been standing exploded into concrete fragments as the four-fingered claw of a transformed creature slammed into it. A massive limb, like thirty-centimeter metal shears, belongs to a freak whose massive body is stretched over protruding re-
bra, and on a long neck sticks out a small head with glowing eyes. The creature is even slightly larger than an Mgalekgolo, but no ranged weapons are visible. Only claws like hydraulic shears.
Noble One opened fire on the beast, not fearing to hit me thanks to the creature's width (and my shield). I struck the monster with my Gravity Hammer, causing it to jerk, but it didn't die. Ribs protruding in all directions stopped the blow, breaking from the gravitational impulse, but the head, fixed on a long cluster of tubes, survived. And it looks at me reproachfully, shining blue grals into my helmet. The head belongs to a Turian, by the way.
Actually, Noble One's bullets, the sorcery of the Asari who jumped into the corridor, and Noble Five's sniper volley were absorbed by the creature, which continued to try to smash my face with the same indifference.
It's frankly cramped for it in the corridor; its claws leave long scratches in the concrete and slow the creature down. But space is limited for me too, so I have to parry the blows with the hammer.
What's worse, I moved to the right, to the end of the corridor, and behind my back came a knock on the door, clearly hinting at where the personnel went. And that this resilient little animal isn't the only beautiful thing here.
The second hammer blow broke one of the creature's limbs; it howled but still refused to die, grabbing the hammer with its second hand and squeezing its "shears" on it, trying to break the handle. And the bullets drumming into its back bother it little.
"Launch!" Noble Five barked, and I jumped back toward the door.
It blew up heartily in the narrow space of the corridor; everyone who didn't have filters in their armor was deafened. The beast finally died, collapsing on me right by the door at the end of the corridor. The very one that this creature's colleagues are pounding on from the other side.
I stood up with effort, crawling out from under the monster near the frankly buckling door, admired the creature's mangled back, the crumbled and cracked walls, and asked:
"Did you check the room? Just in case it had colleagues in there."
Noble One nodded.
"Clear."
But behind us, the door, sliding open into four leaves, began to give way. The first of the leaves, the upper left, was bent back, and blue-covered swollen hands appeared, glowing blue eyes, and the purple glow of sorcery. And I found myself right at the door, the corridor of which was blocked by the monster's carcass, and my hammer was clamped in its limb.
"Fine then," the Avatar shrugged, pushing a grenade through the bent leaf.
An explosion rang out, activity decreased for a few seconds, but then the creatures returned. Then I added another grenade, and Noble Five demanded:
"Get out of the line of fire."
Well, I stepped to the wall, more occupied with extracting the hammer from the dead giant's limb. It gripped it tight, and the sharp fingers complicate the process of prying them open. A second grenade explosion from that side, the howling became noticeably quieter. I managed to wrench the hammer out on the third attempt, just as two leaves lit up purple and were torn out by the roots, curling into a tube. On the other side of the door, three insectoids and an altered Asari were discovered. Ah, no, now only three insectoids. The Asari felt a lightness in her body after Noble Five's shot.
The first insectoid immediately felt the sorcery of our Asari, while the second and third, having damaged my shield, were stuffed with bullets. Silence fell.
"I'll go see what's there."
"Careful," Carter noted, and I nodded, leaving my colleagues to move the carcass.
The room turned out to be a three-berth hangar, ending in a rather long throat, clearly the way out. One spot was empty, two were occupied. Both ships look empty, damaged. Cargo Kodiak Shuttles, about twenty meters long.
And here the corpses of Salarians were already found, along with a dozen tripods with folded spikes. And by the doors, bodies ground up by grenades. Former Salarians, for the most part. By the wall was a pile of Covies bodies, including a dead Mgalekgolo. A second one was found in the hold of one of the ships, apparently destroyed in a firefight with the crew. But the ship also received damage incompatible with further operation.
"Noble Six, report."
I looked around.
"Hangar with a tunnel here. Three spots, two occupied. Many dead Salarians and Covies, opened crates. Ships are damaged; I assume the altered arrived via the tunnel. Possibly noticed the takeoff of the first transport. Dead Mgalekgolo, their armor. They didn't let the locals evacuate, then slaughtered the Covies too, impaled them on spikes. What about you guys?"
Tela Vasir answered:
"Looks like the Salarians were stockpiling all the found technology here and trying to take it away on the ships you found. But they didn't make it. By any chance, are the crates there?"
I looked onto the deck of the nearest ship, where among the torn bodies and damaged mechanisms, blood on the walls, there are indeed containers with robot parts.
"Exactly. They're here. The containers and the Salarians."
The search of the base took several hours among the dead, wreckage of robots, Geth, Covenant weapons, and Forerunner devices. Enough interesting data was found on the terminals, and the recordings in the security room provided confirmation of our theories. The Covenant came to the base, the Salarians tried to fly away. One ship made it, then through the tunnel it flew out of, the altered came and slaughtered the Covenant strike team. Moreover, a yellow-glowing insectoid was working at this very terminal. Then they left, leaving corpses behind. Investigation closed, so to speak.
"A Pelican will be here in an hour," Noble One reported over the internal comms, "we're done here."
I nodded.
"Yes, samples taken, data uploaded. The situation is non-standard, to put it bluntly. We have twenty-four hours to leave the planet. Mine it and leave."
Noble One looked at the Asari, who continued to collect samples, but remained silent. There is still time.
***
Tela Vasir was in ecstasy. So many samples, plus an entire STG base for the plundering. Just have to get out, contact the Shadow Broker, and the records can be sold for a huge sum, and then not work for two hundred years, just drink, use various chemicals, and play with live toys, buying new ones every week if she wants.
New dolls can be bought even on Illium; there are clubs that sell sentients into service or for other entertainment. Including those that cooperate with the Batarians. Tela was not going to feel sympathy for those who fell to slavers, as the galaxy has tolerated the presence of Khar'Shan slavers for hundreds of years. Moreover, the Batarian Hegemony even has a representative on the Citadel. If everyone is fine with it, why should she worry? She will simply take advantage of publicly available opportunities, provided she has the money.
The money she will make from selling the base will be enough for everything and then some. It's obvious the Humans won't have time to clear it and take everything for themselves. Not at a moment when a space battle is going on above us, and from time to time the clouds are dispersed by explosions. And Shadow is talking about evacuation.
A single Frigate—though it's a cruiser—of the Humans won't manage. No one's single ship will manage. Even if it's the stealth cruiser SSV Naglfar. Which means the base will go to her; she just needs to manage to sell it first.
As well as the numerous data obtained from terminals and armor cameras. About the work of the Human Warriors, about the monsters, about the Covenant. One should not underestimate the Humans, of course. For example, the external group left the base above us in an IFV long ago. Tela learned this modest fact from one of the terminals, looking at the security cameras. It's empty upstairs. Still, one should be extremely careful with Humans. They don't trust her, and they're right. It's business; trust here is the most common cause of sudden death. Shadow looked into the room, twitching her ears.
"Tela Vasir! We're leaving. In the hangar in ten minutes."
She allowed herself to be surprised. It's too early; she hasn't downloaded everything yet!
"Leaving?"
The brunette, tailed, shapely predator-beauty replied:
"Yes, a transport is about to arrive. The base—later, we took everything necessary."
It's all suspicious. The Humans are in a hurry. And they said we had less than two days, but less than one day has passed. Why such haste? No one said. And yet Tela, urgently finishing copying data from the terminals to storage drives, headed to the hangar. Where a Human shuttle with an armored vehicle in tow had already arrived through the tunnel and landed in the open space. And all six Human Warriors. The tailed one looked at me and nodded.
"Great, we're ready. Loading up, there's nothing more to catch here."
The Warriors began jumping into the ship, which hummed as it started its engines. Shadow took off her mask and smiled. A beautiful, predatory beauty, sharp facial features. Now, when she almost doesn't show her triangular teeth, this appearance is quite attractive. Doesn't look like a Human or anyone else. I want her! I wonder if it's possible to reach an agreement?
"Tela, we're almost finished. How about a little vacation after the mission, hm? We had an agreement," the Warrior asked.
The Asari smirked. Of course, yes! Through the Embrace Eternity, one could learn many interesting things. And those strong arms... I think it will be a mutually beneficial cooperation. So the Asari smiled, stepping closer.
"Of course. I think you'll cause a sensation wherever you appear. You have a simply stunning, amazing figure. Even in armor."
The Warrior chuckled, twitching her ears and nodding toward the steadily humming transport.
"Well, let's go, shouldn't keep the guys waiting. And yes, I'm holding you to your word."
And she was the first to jump onto the ledge, after which she turned around and, still smiling with interest, offered the Asari her hand. Tela grabbed it just as a powerful blow to the chest threw the Asari back about five meters, knocking the air out of her lungs. Tela wheezed, hitting the back of her head painfully without a helmet; her vision went dark.
"Margaret Parangosky sends her regards," the Warrior said, continuing to smile insolently.
The Asari's eyes widened when she, noticing a glow on her armor, looked at her chest. Where a Plasma Grenade stuck to the armor, the size of a fist, was flaring up with all its might. All the Asari managed to do was try to jump up.
***
I shrugged, watching Tela Vasir burn in a plasma flash. To push her further from the engines, I had to apply force, but that's not a problem. Still, how timely she took off her helmet; otherwise, I would have had to stick the grenade to her face, and that's a risk. An unnecessary risk. I took my place in the Pelican and spoke over the comms.
"Noble One, the witness is cleared. We can leave; we have four minutes until the warhead detonates. Halo is waiting; we must reach it before the Covies do something stupid."
A Human expedition is located on the ring, and Splintered Design will defend itself as long as it can. But a sufficiently large and coordinated fleet will be able to break through. And then the weapon of mass destruction will go to the Covenant. Unacceptable. We have to react to what's happening quickly.
The Pelican lifted off the hangar floor with a roar, scattering bodies, scraps, and wreckage. Then the machine headed through the throat of the tunnel toward the exit, leaving behind a small nuclear charge with a timer. Cleanup. Do I feel sorry for the Asari? No.
Just as Tela looked for information about us, we looked for information about her. With AIs sitting in their Extranet, it's not difficult. And the results... Let's just say, Tela Vasir is a typical representative of a young Asari endowed with power, an adrenaline-fueled lustful maniac reveling in permissiveness. Literally. And the fact that an order for cleanup came because the Asari saw too much suits me completely.
Now the Pelican is rising into the upper layers of the atmosphere, where only the Covenant fleet remains of all the players. A large Covenant fleet. Everyone is surprised.
"Just how many ships do they have there?"
I thought, scanning the image, and replied:
"About five thousand of all classes. They've crushed all resistance. I suggest staying low and not drawing attention."
The decision was unanimous. But the Covies' ships began to glow purple from below, and flaming purple drops headed down. Glassing. New and new projectiles, incinerating the ground, evaporating clouds, leaving only flaming lakes, step by step, layer by layer turning the planet's surface into a molten lake. The flash of the nuclear charge was simply lost against the background of this firestorm.
"Woodpecker, this is Lovelace, do you copy? Are you still there? Are the nails dancing?"
Noble One smiled slightly; the callsigns were funny after all.
"Lovelace, this is Woodpecker. We managed to get away from the lustful crows. We're breaststroking in the grass."
A chuckle came from the other side too.
"Stroke harder. Disco dancers have been sent your way. And clip your nails; we need a manicure."
At this statement, the Spartan pushed the Pelican to full speed. We have to fly in the general direction, as the Frigate is in stealth mode so that the numerous Covenant fleet, which has gained absolute dominance in orbit, doesn't find them. I, listening to new orders with my core, reported, not hesitating to speak:
"From here we fly straight to the ring. The Covenant found out about it, and this problem needs to be solved. Immediately. There will be a couple of days during the transit; I hope we make it. Otherwise, it will be bad for everyone."
"We'll make it," Noble One agreed, "the mission isn't over yet."
We won't watch the explosion, of course, but that's okay. But the fact that everyone and their mother found out about the ring... Not good. Too much the Salarians didn't have time to erase. Their defense worked against them.
***
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