The algorithms completed their work, unarchiving the information packet and removing all encodings from it. The polymer brain superstructure interpreted it into biological impulses, transmitting them to the brain matter, initiating a process close to sleep.
The brain responded to these signals, activated certain areas, forming new neural connections, allowing the human mind to finally comprehend the received information, as if it had read it several times, memorized it, and then thought it over.
"Who would have thought… Intriguing," the MARSHAL of CERBERUS drawled, leaning back in his chair.
The smart device with the mental interface immediately tilted its back, transforming into a semblance of a couch. Guided by specialized algorithms, it initiated the necessary scenario. The "Collective" system did everything to help the head of intelligence and counterintelligence increase the efficiency of his nervous activity. A little care allowed him to concentrate better, so as not to lose a single bit of precious data while thinking.
When the CERBERUS leadership got the "Black Moon" project on their desk, the first reaction after comprehension was ambiguous. "Have they been sniffing dog anesthesia!!!" – Jack Harper grimaced at the mental echo of memory. He himself thought something similar at that moment, but the slightly shrill, squeaky voice of the scientific coordinator simply drilled into his memory, becoming an integral part.
The miniature woman, whose ancestry clearly showed Ethiopian origins, who had received a doctorate and a couple of discoveries in genetics (as a result of one of which she lost a leg, an arm, and her right eye), had every right to say so. Moreover, it was she who expressed the quintessence of the entire collective's initial thoughts. For which her mechanized eye, burning with indignant anger, and the very flash of emotion evoked not an ounce of condemnation. Only understanding.
Then, slipping his consciousness into the sent document package, brushing aside the explanatory card, which looked more like a joke than a serious scientific development, the head of CERBERUS began to read the technical documentation. After realizing the essence of the work, Harper's second impulse was not just to burn the planet where this scientific collective's laboratory was located. No less, the entire essence of the scout demanded to clear the entire star system to the state of rarefied gas, removing all mentions of it.
The small addendum to the technical specification, which indicated the potential danger class of the object, was to blame for everything. A standard designation, considered excessive by some, more like a consequence of cognitive regression in some managers. An unnecessary whim.
"Object Class: Paragon. Color Marker: Royal Pink Pearl," the addendum stated, causing the palms of the entire coordination council to instantly sweat. Harper immediately wanted to pour himself several glasses of whiskey, bypassing the unnecessary ritual of pouring it into a glass. The danger class, introduced after the discovery of a xenoartifact of a lost civilization, the Purple Sphere, by operatives of the "Argentum" squad, Alice Selezneva, simply could not evoke any other response in his heart.
It was only by a miracle that a tragedy was avoided then. Considerable resources were spent to find and buy back the purple pearls that had spread throughout the galaxy, which held danger within them. These containers of ancient biological weapons, similar to beads, the size of a human's palm, if a capsule lost its integrity, could plunge all intelligent life into a massacre. The Reapers would simply not have needed to carry out the Harvest after that…
But it was the near Harvest that forced him and his colleagues not to succumb to this impulse of horror, but to thoroughly study the scientists' work. Taking the polymer reversant, also known as the Brown Plague, a weapon that had almost killed humanity, as a basis, the NII scientific collective set the goal of creating not a weapon. Specializing in the modification of biological systems, Goulfi Sharikov, a prominent vulfhednar biologist, wanted to use the principle of the reversant's operation to modify nerve cells and integrate them more closely with the polymer superstructure, providing connection to the collective neural network.
According to the plan, this would allow information to be uploaded without loss, creating more perfect knowledge bases, reducing the time to master skills until they were consolidated. Only the bacterium-container was taken from the reversant, while the filling was replaced almost entirely. Instead of a virus that destroys the nervous system, a derived and modified strain of a cognitive booster was packed into it.
In Harper's understanding, the scientists replaced a poisonous substance with flammable napalm, if one disregards the strong words that were on the tip of his tongue, simplifying the complex terms. The cognitive booster, also known as the "Virus of Artificial Evolution," was not much inferior to the Plague in its destructive potential, and in some moments even surpassed it. Created as an ideal tool for elevating non-intelligent and low-intelligence species to fully intelligent beings, the virus caused an event such as the "Slaughter in Daisy Valley."
Object "Daisy Valley" – a testing ground for testing new tactical species of animals and plants in an environment close to natural.
"Where else but in this place would they test this tool? There's nothing too dangerous!" – the scientists thought.
"Then they wouldn't have had to incinerate the testing ground with THREE thermonuclear bombs, bombard it from orbit with an entire squadron, and then spend years catching the test subjects, who, along with gaining intelligence, went mad, turning into cannibalistic maniacs with enhanced regeneration!" – Harper's sarcasm was palpable.
The scientific collective of the "Black Moon" project also understood the danger of this virus, so they carried out long and painstaking selective work to breed a non-aggressive strain and introduce self-destruction system triggers into it. On paper, everything turned out too well to go according to plan. The preparation did fulfill all the set tasks, but the changes went much further than planned.
The virus interacted with all the polymer, not only introduced into the test animal, but also with the material of the biological protection chamber, turning an ordinary hamster into a cyborg terminator! The cells of the poor rodent changed in such a way that they could perform all the functions of their sisters at once! Each cell was responsible for thinking, movement, digestion, and energy production. Moreover, the cell membrane absorbed the polymer at a molecular level, becoming metallic, gaining the ability to mimic!
It didn't sound dangerous. Or so everyone thought until the first field tests. A small hamster, which in nature could die from a sudden sound, simply and without fuss wiped out a company that arrived for testing, disassembling cybernetic troops units as well, who were acting as support. Only five operatives of "Argentum" managed to track down and corner this creature, and even then not without difficulty for themselves, and also found out another detail.
Hamsters and rats in the wild are competitors and enemies… If we disregard all scientific terms, the test subject, upon seeing the skavens, fell into a state close to berserk, just like the intelligent rats from the engineering battalion themselves. A spark, a storm, artillery volleys… Rivers of blood, piles of corpses, a pyramid of skulls and rat tails. Despite the surrealism, the image of a laughing hamster on a mountain of heads torn off by itself, with its paws transformed into axes, evoked no hint of a smile. There wasn't even a desire to ask: what were you smoking. Not after such destruction.
The same "Argentum" operatives managed to stop the carnage. The group leader had the idea to assign the rank of ensign to this creature and order it, as a superior officer, to stop, which the test subject immediately did.
The personality that resulted from the Ascension was loyal to the working people, the party, and the ideas of communism, so much so that it could obey the command: forget how to breathe! However, the lack of active oxygen consumption could not kill the ensign, but simply knocked him out, like the cold. The only weak point of the resulting creature was extremely high temperatures. Plasma or molten metal could destroy its cell membranes, and with them the cells, but it could replicate itself, even from a single surviving one!
After establishing the degree of loyalty, the object was modified by technical means. It was connected to the "Collective" network, cybernetic implants were installed, and two spatial storage units were embedded in the cheek areas, sending it on its debut mission, the results of which Harper was now analyzing.
In fact, the special agent was a "dead hand" weapon, another in the arsenal of surprises for the Reapers, if the USSR and the Citadel Space were to be defeated in the war. Laughing aside, seeing the report, the MARSHAL of CERBERUS almost sympathized with the ancient synthetics…
"Let's continue studying our madhouse…" the marshal noted philosophically, picking up the next report.
It was a report from agents in the demilitarized zone of the Krogan reservation.
"Everything is going according to plan," Harper noted to himself. In the impending conflict, the Krogans were allies of the USSR. Not without difficulty, but the diplomats managed to sway these fierce giants to the side of the working people. Even complete healing from the genophage was not required.
The natives of Tuchanka needed only three things from life (which did not make them savages or stupid): food, to procreate, and to challenge themselves, worthy of a militarized warrior society. The galaxy did not understand this in the past and does not understand it now, which is why problems arose with this race, which were solved in an extremely immoral way.
In the clans' understanding, the Citadel betrayed them, which was true. The Krogans were elevated, made defenders and cannon fodder, which suited them perfectly. It was with their blood that victory over the Rachni, an insectoid race with a collective mind, was bought, which laid the root of the problem. The society of these giants was a cauldron in which aggression seethed, held back only by the strict framework of traditions and periodically finding an outlet in violence or feats. The Citadel Council gave them the opportunity for heroic deeds, but when the war ended, it did not bother to provide the next goal.
The Krogans were content with a slow-burning conflict at that stage of history to continue challenging themselves from one challenge to another. Without it, their society began to boil intensely, threatening a fratricidal war. Being by no means fools, the clan leaders of that time decided to channel this activity into a useful direction, taking what they believed was rightfully theirs.
If one delves into deep analysis, the Krogans did not need galactic power. They needed recognition and a new challenge. The Citadel Council simply shelved them, like a sword that had done its job, waiting for its owner. It was the understanding of this fact that led events to their original value.
The warrior race was not simply defeated. It was humiliated, reduced to a negligible existence, and brought to the brink of extinction, yoked by the genophage. The Council, then more of a triumvirate of two races, drew logical conclusions for themselves, more qualitatively binding the "New Defenders" – the Turians.
The same policy of isolation and force manifested later, during the Quarian crisis, when the synthetics rebelled against their creators, they took a fundamentally tough stance, instead of extending a hand, they kicked an entire race out, knocking them out of the galactic arena. That is why, having the opportunity to restrain the Hegemony, they did not take the Citadel Knights off the leash, ensuring they were constantly busy, so they would think less.
As a consequence, when the USSR made its debut on the galactic stage, crushing the Hegemony into the dirt for its aggression, the fragile Asari balance collapsed. The system of checks and balances built over centuries was not ready for such large-scale upheavals, going haywire. The galaxy suddenly had no time for outcasts collecting crumbs from the master's table. The ruling elites of the Citadel were thinking about how not to be fleeced, which the union diplomats took advantage of.
The diplomatic corps simply bought the Krogans to everyone's satisfaction. The majority of representatives of this race already had Soviet citizenship, occupying the niche of colonizers, pioneers, and defenders, diversifying their lives with crafts and animal husbandry. The giants felt an inexplicable reverence for mammoths, becoming suppliers of milk, wool, and bone crafts in a short period, selling at Citadel markets like hotcakes, bringing in billions.
Drawn by the path of adventure, the Krogans joined the ranks of freelance hunters, helping to eliminate significant threats. The galaxy was very large. It would take more than a thousand years to simply visit every system. And as practice showed, dangerous legacies of fallen races could lurk in these systems.
The report spoke of the elimination of several suspicious objects, as well as the covert evacuation of the population of the demilitarized zone, which, under the weight of the labor of engineers, was turning into a fortified area to cover part of the USSR's borders when the Reapers reached the galaxy.
The only thing that attracted Harper's special attention was the attempt to first establish contact and then land a group on Tuchanka from the Salarians. They failed to find out what exactly these reptiles wanted. The locals, having every moral right to do so, simply tore them to pieces on the spot…
"Interesting," the marshal muttered again, summoning a report on the state of the Salarian race for the last quarter.
Despite the apparent peace between the two states, their intelligence services were waging a continuous war. It was simply impossible to come to an agreement with reptiles with short lifespans. They adopted an isolationist policy and were ready for cooperation only if the USSR handed over its fundamental technologies. The Salarians were not interested in anything more.
Since ancient times, this race had strived to accumulate knowledge, wanting to have only the best and most modern at its disposal. With the advent of the Union and its unique technological structure, they desired to obtain discoveries of advanced scientific thought at any cost. Provocations, sabotage, and other joys of covert warfare claimed, in Harper's opinion, more lives than open conflict.
The USSR was in no hurry to spread its technologies across the galaxy. Without the control of the "Collective," which monitored the scientists' adherence to ethical and technological norms, although glitches did occur. The polymer, seemingly harmless to outsiders, could cause a lot of harm. The unified mind of the union simply feared the prospects that opened up in this case, because both the Salarians and the Citadel would first of all test military developments, which, without proper control, would break free. Not to mention, even in Soviet laboratories, things happen that are not foreseen by the course of experiments.
Against this backdrop, the decline in GOR's activity could be frankly frightening. The Salarian intelligence machine was slowing down and, in the marshal's perception, was simply abandoning its informants, agents, and ongoing operations, hastily returning to its territories. What prompted them to take such a step, it was absolutely impossible to find out. Just as the union's counterintelligence suppressed any attempts at infiltration, GOR did not allow such things, which allowed for remote observation without the risk of losing operatives.
"If only I knew what was happening there," the head of CERBERUS frowned. After thinking for a minute, he decided to task the analysts with preparing a memo for the "Aspect of Protection" so that the military would allocate a couple of fleets to the reserve as a precaution. The generals would not be happy about this fact on the eve of the Migrating Fleet's attempt to resolve its claims against the Geth, but there were no other options.
"On the one hand, the nomads started acting on time, on the other hand, how untimely," Harper stated, picking up the report from the Quarian agents.
"M-da. Cynical. To pin everything on, essentially, a girl. Where is the postulate that children are not responsible for the sins of their fathers? They would have mixed us with shit without any sentimentality for that. How dare they trample fundamental morals!" – the marshal drummed his fingers on the tabletop, thinking.
"We'll have to involve Comrade Sechenov. At least notify him. In any case, we'll have to coordinate the course of action with 'Argentum.' Comrade Nechaev reacts too nervously to his operatives being involved, bypassing him. He's right, but sometimes it's not very convenient. The colonel doesn't sit in headquarters but conducts operations 'in the field' himself, which doesn't facilitate quick interaction. He won't be delighted with all this either. Let the decision be up to this girl, but she'll risk her neck, not us, and it's not a fact that we'll be able to pull her out from under the nose of the Council of Admirals if something happens. On the wave of hysteria, she faces not exile if found guilty, but the death penalty. Even her 'aunt's' intercession won't help. And it's undesirable to escalate… This could lead to the failure of the entire operation. Stubborn Geth! They need a lesson!" – Harper decided for himself.
Taking a deep breath, driving away emotions, he gave the command to convene a network conference, already foreseeing that he would have to talk a lot, a lot…