Liara T'Soni.
Illium. For most races, this planet with a population of less than a hundred million was synonymous with slavery and permissiveness. For the Asari, however, it was a symbol of freedom. And permissiveness, hee-hee.
Frankly speaking, these indentured contracts are only for short-lived races. For an Asari, a hundred years is unpleasant, but still not particularly long. I heard rumors that slavery was permitted on Illium to compete with the slave-owning economy of the Hegemony—what nonsense. A slave-owning economy in an age of automation and complex production is inefficient. No, it's simply about the Asari lifespan and the duration of employment familiar to us. Which, for everyone except the Krogan, is equivalent to their entire life. And even so, Illium, like a lamp, attracted more and more 'moths.'
That was the case until recently. Then the incinerating light came to these worlds. Just one flash, and a hundred million sentients turned into nothing. Agents went silent; silence fell. It's too much to believe, too fast. I had to see it personally.
Naturally, I didn't arrive on the Shadow Throne, but on one of the shuttles. And even as I descended, I noticed the emptiness. No streams of aircars scurrying between buildings, no transport traffic. About fifty ships hang in orbit under the protection of Asari destroyers and corvettes. Their crews died in flight.
The port was cordoned off by Republic forces to avoid looters. But, thanks to my clearance, my shuttle was let through. On many landing pads are crashed and burned ships; they lost control during landing and plummeted onto the city. An already dead city.
Stepping out of the shuttle, I looked into the skyscrapers of the metropolis only to see emptiness. This sight reminds me of Feros—a massive city in which there is no movement.
A crypt. Abandoned remains of civilization. Buildings stand; the wind blows. But there is no stream of aircars, no sentients walking through the waiting area or the market nearby. The arguments of Volus trading stocks or reselling goods are not heard; no one discusses upcoming meetings or conducts business. There is no movement, except for the few patrols relative to the scale of Illium. The city seems to sleep, something that never happened before; even at night, life didn't stop for a moment.
Several skyscrapers stand as burned black columns—presumably, there was simply no one to put out the fire. Here and there, crashed ships are also visible, and one of the buildings simply folded from such a ramming. But all this is in contrast with the sterile cleanliness and emptiness. I sighed to calm my nerves, to detach myself from the crushing feeling of the wrongness of what was happening.
It all started when we flew away from Erinle. I was talking to a client (as the Shadow Broker) from among the Matriarchs on Illium when she suddenly went silent. The connection just unexpectedly dropped. In the first minutes, I thought an assassination had occurred; I searched for information about what happened, the targets. But the attempt to contact another agent failed. And that gave rise to questions. Are they hunting me? The Shadow Broker? I started checking other agents. But there was no answer. Why? You can't jam a quantum connection; they should have…
And the agents couldn't have all gone silent at once; they were too spread out in space for the entire Shadow Broker network on Illium to be hit simultaneously just by statistics. I turned to the news reports, but there was no connection there either. Only emptiness and silence. I became afraid; it doesn't happen like this!
Sensing that we had missed something very important, I pushed the crew to find out what happened on Illium, why everyone had gone silent. Information reached me only a day later, through the Matriarchs' channel. All this time, there had been no connection with the planet, and agents arriving on a ship were turned back at the Mass Relay by Republic warships. Fear turned into certainty when the first rumors were finally obtained that the planet had simply died out in its entirety. I didn't want to believe it, but the Reapers had already created a virus that, in our reality, was tested on Omega. Therefore, when the Matriarchs finally made contact, I already knew 'what.' But I didn't know 'who' or 'why.' Naturally, I answered the call.
"Liara T'Soni."
I ritually bowed to the Matriarch from among Benezia's former supporters.
"Lady Matriarch."
She sighed, her entire appearance showing exhaustion.
"You have an assignment; it's urgent, Maiden. Contact the Shadow Broker; conduct an investigation. We have lost contact with many major colonies in the north of our territories. Effectively, our entire half of the Attican Traverse is not responding. I am deploying everyone."
Did I hear correctly? No, I had checked the major colonies, but there simply wasn't enough physical time to check everyone. An agent network is still weaker than the intelligence of an entire state. So the Traverse, Asari territories… Goddess…
"What do you mean 'lost,' Matriarch?"
The Asari sighed again.
"Scouts say that all sentient life on these colonies has vanished. No one is left. Only plants. We are still determining the scale of the destruction, but even preliminary estimates suggest losses in the billions. They all simply crumbled into dust, simultaneously."
But how? I don't understand. What could possibly do… that? I don't understand. Faltering, I replied:
"I spoke with Matriarch Layani; she was going to give me an assignment, but suddenly disappeared. She was on Illium," this time the silence stretched, "Illium too?"
The Matriarch nodded.
"There are no survivors. They just vanished. Everyone. All eighty-five million just up and crumbled into dust, along with the guests and the bones. The damage is colossal. And even if we set aside the Terminus Systems, which is not our territory, we are talking about half of the Attican Traverse and our territories, as well as Hanar territories. Minos Wasteland, Ismar Frontier, Ismar Systems, Eastern Fringe, Abyssal Fang, and all the way to Omega. We had our interests everywhere. Our settlements. And now it's not even a graveyard, but simply abandoned territories. No records, no witnesses. Nothing. A white flash and nothing left but dust. Armor, transport, and walls didn't save them. In space, they died as instantly as on the surface. And we want to know who did this and why. Find answers."
That's how I ended up here. Looking from the balcony into the distance, trying to see any movement at all. And I found none. Illium is indeed dead. We searched for information. I pushed the Shadow Broker network, trying to find answers. Who it was and why. Who needed the colonies to die out. Who is capable of matching the Reapers in monstrous cruelty.
There was a thought that it could be the Collectors and their Seeker Swarms, but I quickly dismissed it. The bugs used by the Collectors didn't attack instantly. Even remote, practically unprotected human colonies resisted for hours, days. 'Seeker Swarms' cannot so easily penetrate every building; even a simple metal grate on a vent would be an obstacle for them. But not here.
It doesn't fit the Reapers either. The instantaneous incineration of billions of sentients—they don't need that. They collect biomass to create new Husks and new Reapers. Yes, the Reapers don't strive to preserve all possible bodies. Their weapons evaporate both organic matter and metal equally easily; fires and explosions destroy that very biomass. But the Reapers haven't been noticed in the senseless incineration of billions of organics. Though I could be wrong here, of course, but this doesn't look like the Reapers.
Who is left? The Geth? Not funny; if the Geth could do such a thing, the battle in Earth's orbit would have gone much easier. The Batarians are having a civil war; the Batarian Hegemony has split into pieces. And they also never had such technologies. And why would slavers do this?
The most likely culprits remain. Humans or the Covenant. Humans hadn't demonstrated such technologies before. Their weapons were even somewhat outdated. On the other hand, the Covenant, to destroy worlds, didn't evaporate the entire population but used Plasma Glassing. Of course, humans showed a superweapon, but not even close to having such an effect.
The last option remains. Halo and its technologies. But proof is needed. And on that account, I have an idea. If the colonies were destroyed not purposefully, but within a certain radius (the system indicates this; not specific colonies were evaporated, but a region of the galaxy, as it quickly turned out), one can roughly track the center.
Not personally, of course. But it so happened that among the agents and those simply interested, many had acquaintances in the purged territory. So in just a couple of weeks, we managed to outline a rough radius of erasure. And find the epicenter I already expected, albeit a very rough one. Everything aligned.
Erinle. Halo. The planet where a Covenant fleet in orbit was erased by a colossal bomb. An ancient mechanism of a previously unknown race that seems to laugh at both the Protheans and the Citadel. Answers must be sought there.
By this point, news of the total extermination of many colonies had flooded the extranet. Sentients who had lost contact with acquaintances rushed to find them themselves and found emptiness.
Hysteria gripped the extranet. I particularly remember a news broadcast when a cheerful and eternally flirting Asari maiden said in a faltering tone:
"I, excuse me. Citadel News Service officially confirms the destruction of colonies of the Asari Republics, Attican Traverse, Terminus Systems, and partially Hanar worlds," she swallowed, "I, I had acquaintances there. Life just stopped. They were all incinerated, as they say. We don't know who, we don't know for what, we don't know why. They are just gone."
The Turian co-host kept his face significantly better.
"Is there information on the losses?"
The Asari gave a small nod.
"Yes. There is. We are talking about at least ten, and possibly twenty-five percent of the population of the Asari Republics. Half of the Attican Traverse, all colonies above our territories. No one was saved. Salarian, Asari, Turian worlds. Part of the Terminus Systems adjacent to our sector of the Traverse was also hit—about twenty percent of the territory. More than five billion confirmed dead; these are primary data. I don't…"
The Asari went silent, and the Turian, seeing the clearly stunned state of his co-host, continued.
"Spectre and the Citadel Council have already begun an investigation. They will find the culprits. They will find them and call them to account. Not even the Krogan did such a thing during the Rebellions. And we are obliged to do everything so that this slaughter is not repeated."
Other news reports maintained the same rhetoric. Either close to hysteria, or furious searches for the guilty and muscle-flexing. The extranet was flooded with experts of all stripes, accusing everyone in turn. Sentients wanted if not blood, then at least clarity about what happened. And then blood.
And here I, agents of all intelligence services, worked in one direction. The shock and horror gradually flooding society from the realization of the scale forced everyone to unite. A stealth probe with a camera was sent toward Halo. Essentially an automated ship that was supposed to show what was happening there.
While the module was flying, we continued to search for information and didn't find it. No one managed to understand anything. There was no warning, no time for reaction, no records or notes. Just a flash, and everyone died. And only organics with a nervous system; the equipment didn't even turn off. Plants were also not affected, nor were microorganisms.
I really wanted to get drunk, but all that was left was to work until I dropped. We must find out the truth. I don't know what I hoped to see. But when the probe reached Halo and the image appeared, we saw a massive Covenant fleet, a colossal station. All this, though it looked threatening, we quickly understood. It's drifting. No movement. Nothing. Death had overtaken them too. And between the ships, Geth and human ships scurried. The only moving objects. The only ones alive.
And if the Geth are Synthetics, then humans… they survived. They knew. They were there.
I woke up in a trashed bedroom in a state of biotic exhaustion and with a hangover. As it quickly turned out, I had enough reaction not to wreck the workspace with biotics, but in the bedroom, I gave vent to my rage. The compartment will have to be repaired, replacing the wall panels and several floorings. And a couple of compartments next door. No one interfered; in the mess hall right now are huntresses capable of killing a Krogan with their breath. It turns out there is a lot of homemade alcohol on the ship. I'll knock on Jalim later. Or I won't. I need to think and pull myself together.
The next thing I did was go to Joker and ask directly:
"Are you with me or with them?"
Joker snorted, continuing to pilot the ship, and threw a smirk my way.
"I'm still here, you know," but seeing my state, he answered directly, "With you."
I, still holding back my anger, exhaled and nodded.
"Good, Jeff. Because it won't be easy from here on."
The pilot winced, turned, and looked me in the eyes.
"I saw it; we all saw it. And the way the Council reacted too. This… isn't the humanity we were protecting. Not the Alliance. Even Cerberus didn't do such a thing, though when the Reapers attacked, the Illusive Man tried. So don't sweat it; you're supported here."
Great, it's come to this—Joker is calming me down. I need to get a grip.
"Thank you, Jeff," and then I realized something, "The Citadel reacted?"
He nodded, pointing to a tablet lying nearby.
"And they released a statement. The Covenant is to blame. They used a weapon of mass destruction and made a mistake. They killed themselves and took many innocents with them."
I silently grabbed the tablet. Finding the necessary statement in the history was easy. The Councilors were positioned in the main Council chamber, decorated in a somber, mourning style. They even put on darker, more closed-off outfits (relevant for the Asari). The Turian Councilor stepped forward. Well, naturally, the main military force of the Council, and if the statement is to be militaristic, he will be the one speaking.
"Greetings to the Council Races. We, the Council, have gathered here and now to make an official statement regarding the occurred 'dead light' crisis, as it has been called."
The Turian went silent; the Asari began to speak.
"What happened shocked us. We have heard statements from Terminus Systems diplomats that the Citadel doesn't care about the exterminated colonies not belonging to Council Space. That is not so."
Joker snorted here.
"Well, of course, the cesspool got blown up. As if you can do anything about it."
I, silently agreeing with the pilot, listen further. The Asari continued.
"What happened was a shock to us all, a trauma. The Council has always adhered to a peaceful policy, a diplomatic solution to problems. And such monstrous crimes were a blow to us all. We hoped that someone could have survived, that we would find those who remained. But no. And the damage became more shocking the further it went. A fifth of the Asari Republics was exterminated. A quarter of the Terminus Systems, slightly less than half of the Attican Traverse simultaneously lost all sentients. Ships, planets. No one was left. No one was saved. And we mourn. We, like everyone, thirst for the truth, thirst for vengeance."
The Salarian Councilor began to speak.
"An investigation was conducted. It was confirmed that the cause of the incident was the Covenant's use of a weapon of mass destruction due to its incorrect use. Malfunctions in working with the equipment led to a massive explosion that erased life in part of the galaxy. At this moment, Citadel forces are seeking to gain control over the device to secure the galaxy from such incidents now and in the future. The priority task is the further pursuit of the Covenant to exclude their penetration into our territory and even the minimal probability of a repeat of this."
The Asari took the floor again.
"Regarding the accusations against humans: we have every reason to believe that humanity, for all their aggressiveness, is innocent. They do not have the technologies, nor have they ever had such intentions. A catastrophe of this scale couldn't be orchestrated even by the Protheans. Accusing humans is naive. Our enemy is strong, and there is no simple solution that we could be satisfied with. And we will not do that."
I made an effort to carefully turn off the tablet and place it on the seat next to Joker. He sighed sympathetically:
"Yeah, I heard it too. The politicians decided to hush everything up. Maybe they're afraid, or maybe they want to negotiate for some of the Covenant ships. They're powerful, you know yourself."
I know. And I understand why they did it, after such a demonstration of force. If I were a Patriarch or the head of the Council of Matriarchs of the Asari, I would probably have done the same. Such a vivid demonstration of capabilities.
"We will show the humans their place in the galaxy ourselves."
Joker looked at me skeptically.
"Seriously? You heard it yourself; the Council is against escalating the situation."
I nodded.
"The Council is forced to care for the residents of Council Space. You're right; war won't end in anything good."
After that, I paused for a moment.
"But?" the pilot readily finished the thought.
"But we don't have to act on behalf of the Council. I am the Shadow Broker. And I know where Covenant ships can be found. There are damaged ones left at Erinle; we can try to steal a couple from the humans at the ring. The STG has Covenant prisoners; we need someone who knows how to pilot that ship. If they don't like humans, they'll help me. Humans have rebels. Those who are dissatisfied with the central government, terrorists. If humans fight against humans, it's internal squabbling. Do you understand?"
Yes, I'm tired of humans doing whatever they want, arranging massacres on the level of the Rachni or Krogan Wars. And being simply ignored. I intend to solve this problem. If humans don't care about the lives of aliens, let them fear for their own. When the STG, Citadel intelligence, and my agents start responding to the humans hiding in their worlds proportionately, they will have to negotiate. They will have to find boundaries.
Jalim, Luan, and Jeff sitting in the pilot's seat reacted to my explanations with understanding. Joker, whose cheerful mood had returned, commented:
"Sounds like a villainous organization. What shall we call it?"
I thought for about five seconds.
"Cerberus. Kerberos, yes, that's better."
And while Jalim didn't particularly understand, Jeff choked.
"Are you joking?"
I shook my head.
"The Illusive Man built his actions on winning a place for humans in the galaxy. A worthy one, as he thought. I intend to do the same, to remind them where the humans' place in this galaxy is. And that if you pour water on someone's head, they might drown you in return. By the hands of their own anarchists."
Turning and leaving the bridge, I added:
"Joker, I'll send the coordinates. Jalim, prepare the huntresses. We'll need to storm a secret Salarian STG prison."
***
A year later.
The Covenant cruiser Eradicator of Sin hung at a decent distance from the human colony Venice. Sangheili mercenary Let 'Volir stepped away from the command console.
A hologram of the planet was positioned above it. Three-quarters of its surface is covered with water; the continents are numerous, narrow, and surrounded by oceans on all sides. According to my data, eleven million people live here. The Sangheili, as he calls himself, growled:
"We are in position, witch. A human world, as you wanted. What next?"
He is subtly hinting that attacking an orbital garrison with the forces of a single cruiser is an idiotic decision. I know. In fact, the operation took so much time because it's not that simple. Find a Sangheili who agrees to help. Find a ship, reach out to human rebels, make contact—all without being detected. Find other planet addresses, negotiate. And only then, having agreed on a deal, did we end up here.
I harbor no illusions about these people. Total thugs, terrorists, anarchists. And I won't be sorry at all when the humans destroy them. And yet, for a demonstration, they are perfect. This planet only recently returned to human control, and separatism is strong here. A hotbed of terrorists. Exactly what is needed. The locals will only be happy to blow up the occupiers' base from their own species.
"We'll make contact. It's not time for a fight yet."
Jalim entered the command hall to the beep of sliding doors. Today she is in Turian full armor—or rather, stylized as a Turian. And our shuttle is also Turian. To her nod, I answered the Sangheili.
"Let's go. Humans think too much of themselves."
The shuttle landed outside the colony, beyond the city. Stealth technology, of course. Farms are located to the horizon, and small round buildings with movement visible on them. We are being met.
"Let, stay on the turrets. If they get cocky, you know what to do."
The Sangheili nodded, and we stepped out of the shuttle. Immediately, humans appeared from the fields. Not in the best gear, with crude weapons. But I'm not deceived; this human firearm, as they call it, can be dangerous. It's just the gear of these people… Outdated parts of human drop troop armor and helmets that they abandoned several years ago. And this is over ordinary clothes. Plenty of exposed spots. I have great doubts they will manage.
And yet, the effectiveness of this cell is higher than it might seem. Perhaps it's because of their leader, Stefan Zentske. A brunette of about forty with a somewhat… I think humans call it 'pretty-boy' look. In a modified voice, I said:
"Who will speak?"
A completely different man stepped forward. Not Stefan.
"I will. Welcome guests to Venice. Did you bring it?"
Interesting, but sensible. Delegate the negotiations to someone else. The leader himself stands on the roof of a round two-story building with a carbine. As if that would help him in case of a fight. I pointed to the crates being carried out by robots.
"Weapons and a neutron warhead. Everything as agreed. It's just that your guys' weapons aren't the best. Can you handle it?"
The negotiator winced haughtily.
"It's not for you to judge us. We managed without advisors. Show the goods."
I easily, mimicking the gait of a Turian (what a narrow waist in this armor, it pinches), walked to the crate and opened it. Inside are 'Phaestons.' Not new, used, but a fairly cheap model. With the right connections, they are easy enough to get.
The negotiator, who has one of our pistols hanging from his belt, approached and looked into the weapon container. The man pulled out an assault rifle, inspected the mechanisms, and checked the safety.
"Good. Sixty pieces, right?"
Jalim, standing nearby, nodded.
"Yes. Sixty rifles, twenty pistols, a neutron warhead. We value your struggle and are ready to continue sponsoring it. If you are effective."
The man put the weapon back in the crate and nodded.
"We will be; soon they'll be talking about us, you can be sure of that. With good weapons, we'll do everything that's needed. And with proper supply, we can do much more."
I hope so. Even if it's unpleasant for me to do this, but
Any patience eventually comes to an end. The way Humans do whatever they want, taking advantage of their permissiveness… This must stop immediately, one way or another.
I know we need to prepare for the arrival of the Reapers. But how can we do that when a Human ship can arrive and, instead of playing spy games like intelligence services or a Spectre, blow something up with weapons of mass destruction? And the Citadel forces, having no clear answer, will be forced to simply swallow such treatment.
No. It won't be like that. I don't want to orchestrate something like what happened in the Batarian Hegemony (interestingly, my Cerberus is being joined by forces from Khar'Shan, Quarians, and generally everyone the Humans have managed to spite), but showing the Humans that they are not omnipotent and not invulnerable is absolutely necessary. For this, we have the best Tech Powers in the galaxy, the best mercenaries, instructors, and soldiers. We have connections and supporters. Enough to challenge the Human ONI.
In the meantime, one can admire the fireworks at the UNSC spaceport. The charge will fry the electronics, and if the rebels do everything right, it might even bring down a taking-off ship. Maximum damage to the military, minimum to civilians. For the sake of our survival. For the sake of future victory.
***
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