The negotiations ended on a high note: I secured valuable resources without any contractual obligations. In Earth terms – a freebie had arrived. I've only been a Spectre for about a day, and the gifts of fate are just pouring in through connections.
I even received a multitude of messages on my terminal, and my intergalactic credit counter received quite a few donations from concerned citizens of the Milky Way.
Oh, a familiar name. This corporation conducts illegal experiments on living beings; in short, they test their medical drugs on them. I ran an errand for them once, so I found out about their inner workings. And the directors, in turn, found out – what I know. Well now, how many zeros are after this one? Looks like I'll have to forget about their existence for a while.
Oh, and this organization is famous for producing diluted fuel for starships. Because of this, mercenaries attacked them once, trying to get revenge, to wash away the humiliation with blood. I was hired to protect them from guys like that. I did an excellent job back then, even though I learned all their secrets. And they learned... well, you know the drill. Damn, they could have added another zero at the end for my inaction... Oh well, I'm feeling generous today! I'll forget about you, too.
Continuing to read the list of deposits for five minutes with a straight face, I simultaneously suffered from dementia. But not completely. I returned all the... or rather, the insignificant sponsorship contributions with the note: "I can't be bought. Cheaply."
Those aren't tears of hypocrisy, just some intergalactic credits got in my eye.
Right, why did I come to the terminal?
I completely forgot to write to Captain Shepard about the information I'd obtained. Essentially, a useless action, since the only proof I have of Saren's guilt is a recording of his voice. And as we know, our Council isn't stupid enough to believe a simple recording in an age of digital fraud – even a child could fake it. Or are they stupid? ... ... Who can figure out what goes on in the heads of the powers that be?
— Delayed message for eight hours, - I adjusted the date, by which time I'd be able to get to the Spectre without any extra noise.
If my data is miraculously taken as truth, which is highly unlikely, then a hunt will be declared for the traitor. But I don't want to scare him off. It's better to fix his head and become his advocate before the Council.
Saren is the best operative and almost a legend, even if he is one-third cyborg. He lost his eyes on missions, and half his body is replaced with implants. This speaks not to his carelessness, but to his rich combat experience. Such a turian will be useful to us in the war against the invaders.
The enemies themselves need not only to be destroyed, but, if possible, captured a few of them for the accelerated development of the space program. I am determined to return for revenge, but most likely, I won't be alone. Samara, though she will lose her justicar status, will still remain a useful ally thanks to her biotics.
Tali'Zorah... We barely know each other, but I like this quarian: she already managed to send a report to the terminal about the deplorable state of our ship. And it's far more detailed than what our technicians provided.
A strong biotic and an excellent technician. I love girls! Or just their skills...
Having finished analyzing the data from the terminal and preparing a message for my former colleague, I turned to the main display on the bridge. We had just passed through a Relay's hyperspace jump and found ourselves in the Omega Watch border system. From there, a course was plotted to the Hoc system, and more precisely – to the paradise planet Virmire.
An entire world that could have become a bastion of civilization: endless tropical forests, golden beaches, alluring oceans where, as mentioned in galactic news feeds, giant bioluminescent jellyfish live.
The atmosphere is saturated with oxygen, the climate is amazing, and the local flora and fauna are practically non-aggressive. However, instead of becoming another step in the colonization of the entire Milky Way, Virmire was left behind for a number of reasons.
The nearest system, Terminus, is under the control of dictatorial clans and criminal syndicates, which have managed to gather an entire fleet of warships over the centuries of their existence.
The factions are constantly thinned out by internal conflicts, and the dictators change with frightening speed. Each new leader comes to power by slitting the throat of his predecessor. None of them think about long-term projects, such as colonizing an undeveloped planet. For them, Virmire is just "territory for later." They couldn't even establish a base here due to a lack of technology or courage.
Space pirates prefer to stay in their comfort zone – robbery and raids.
— Starkiller, - Amanda's voice rang out, my assistant.
The girl approached me with a datapad in her hands. Tactical data was on the screen.
Her duties were diverse: she was an engineer, a pilot, a cook, and even a toilet-cleaning strategist. Not because she had outstanding talents, but because of the chronic shortage of crew on my ship.
— We're out of scanning probes, - she reported. — The coordinates cover an area with a radius of a thousand kilometers. However, we've detected a jamming signal. Our target is possibly there.
I looked at the datapad screen, where the anomaly zone was flickering. The signal jamming was almost certainly related to enemy activity. But something didn't add up. I don't recall any devices that cause the kind of interference our equipment is capable of tracking. Are the geth using outdated technology?
— We're going down, - I gave the short command.
As our ship, bearing the proud name "I Am Definitely Not a Wreck," began its descent, the sensors detected anti-aircraft emplacement activity. Flashes of a bad mood flickered on the horizon. Missiles streaked across the sky, heading to destroy the uninvited guests. We should have gotten an invitation...
— Shields to maximum!
Giving rapid commands, I waited for the defensive field to activate and held myself in place, despite the ship's violent maneuvers. We tried to avoid a collision by all available means, but a couple of missiles reached their target, striking the energy shield.
— Critical damage! - Lex's voice rang out, the one responsible for analyzing sensor data. — Shields are down.
I sighed and concentrated, taking the position of the energy shield – the best in the galaxy. The missiles continued to fly in our direction, but this time, I used the Force to change their course. It seemed like I was doing a good deed, but at the same time, I was hoping no one was looking askance at the ship's captain, who was "thoughtlessly" waving his arms around.
— Power core damaged! - Amanda shouted, her hands flying over the control panel. — We're losing control!
— Is landing possible? - I asked, although I already knew the answer.
— No! We're crashing!
The ship began to spin, losing altitude. Everything inside rattled and shook. The G-force was crushing, but I couldn't allow myself to panic. Using the Force, I focused, to stabilize the vessel with telekinesis. My hands moved as if conducting an invisible orchestra. Slowly, but surely, I began to level out the angle of descent. A little later, the ship smoothly braked a few dozen meters above the ground, hovering in the air for a split second before gently descending and touching the surface.
Turning around, I noticed an unpleasant witness to all the turbulent events. Samara had her arms crossed over her chest, looking at me with a dead-fish stare. Her figure and coldness were mesmerizing, but right now, the asari was the last person I wanted to see. She would definitely try to get on my nerves. On the other hand, the asari could help reduce the tension on the miraculously surviving ship.
— Deflecting missiles by just waving your hands? And then stabilizing a falling ship with your "not-biotics" so it doesn't fall to pieces, is that it?
— You imagined it, - I crossed my arms, looking away. — Just swatting flies, and as for softening the landing... let's just say, benevolent gravity intervened.
— Benevolent? Gravity itself doesn't soften or lessen a fall; it determines its force. And a 0.14 variance from the norm in the readings is clearly not enough to turn a starship into a feather, - she spoke in a tone as if she were giving a lecture at a university.
— Mysticism, - I placed my right fist on my chin, thinking hard. — And a series of amazing coincidences and accidents.
— Horrible... - Amanda whispered in shock, pressing herself against the metal floor, which was covered in a layer of dust and debris. — I want to resign.
The Illusive Man promised to send over a new crew, so no need to worry about deserters. Especially if they're resigning officially, not just fleeing a sinking ship. Or perhaps they simply have no other choice. Our ship is no longer functional, cannot take off on its own, and is beyond repair.
It seems we're stuck here for a long time, until we find a replacement.
At that moment, Tali'Zorah approached us. Her helmet reflected the dim glow of the emergency lights. Mmm, beautiful.
— What... what happened? - the quarian looked stunned, her voice trembling with agitation. — I thought I was going to die. The energy shield failed, the engine stopped working, all sensors and navigation went offline. It's... it's a miracle we didn't all die!
Pointing at her with both hands, I looked seriously at Samara: — I told you it had nothing to do with me. A miracle once – a miracle forever.
— Let's assume so, - Samara waved it off calmly, but her eyes narrowed with suspicion. — And will this "miracle" help us in space if we're attacked by enemy vessels?
— It has before, - I replied, trying to look natural.
— Hm, - the asari's eyes narrowed further. Her instincts, honed in countless battles, told her something was wrong here. — Your miracle is pleasant to deal with.
— So... so it was you who deflected the missiles' course and helped land the ship? You... - Tali shook her head. — Are you a god of biotics or something?
God of biotics? Sounds good, but far too arrogant. I prefer modesty in such matters: I am merely the Star Killer – nothing more, nothing less. But oh well, the deadly tension had subsided.
Somehow, I managed to reduce the crew's stress, and now that they've calmed down a bit, we can think about the next step. Right, it's time for us to move out, before the crash site is pinpointed. Then a clean-up squad will come here – the same ones who were firing the missiles. Better to attack them first.
The three of us left the ship. On my left side, one beauty walked – open to the world. The deep neckline wouldn't lie. On my right side – a modest and mysterious girl. If you look only at her figure, your breath catches. The main thing is not to look down at the bent legs and not to pay special attention to the three-fingered existence.
A joke: a human, an asari, and a quarian get together on a geth-infested planet. Well, what could go wrong? The first group of robots came to give an answer. Not to finish the joke, but just to light a spark of humor in it: we were attacked by energy blasters, which I, in a purely relaxed state, absorbed with a Jedi technique.
— Are we under fire right now? - Tali asked Samara.
— A beautiful forest, - she replied dryly, looking off somewhere to the side.
I, meanwhile, continued to stand with my hand outstretched, sucking in all the energy shots, as if I were moonlighting as a vacuum cleaner in a dusty room. The motes of dust flew at us from all over, but no matter what angle they came from, they invariably disappeared.
It's a joy for me: my body was fueled with energy for further manipulations. I could have already blasted them with force lightning, exterminating the assembled robots.
They, by the way, looked familiar.
Geth are completely synthetic beings, composed of metal, plastic, wires, and other materials. They don't have a drop of organic flesh, so they can't be called living. And they are superior to humans, as well as the droids from my galaxy. They have better-developed modularity: they consist of interchangeable parts that, in any assembly, harmonize perfectly with each other. This allows such creatures to adapt quickly to any environment, disassemble themselves, and install new mechanisms that function perfectly in extreme climatic or gravitational conditions.
If we divide them into groups:
A Geth Trooper has a standard silhouette, thin armor, and simple weaponry – assault rifles or shotguns.
A Geth Hunter looks more solid: wears thick armor, is capable of turning invisible thanks to camouflage, prefers close combat, and is equipped with an energy sword.
A Geth Destroyer is like a Juggernaut; a heavy infantryman with powerful armor and heavy weaponry.
There are other models: Geth Primes with a protective field, miniature Geth Drones, Geth Colossi, geth with several pairs of arms, and so on. The quarian who sold me information about them provided a whole list, so long it made me want to yawn.
Back then, meeting them was like winning the lottery. That's how it was, until they joined Saren.
— Do we need to shoot?
— Why waste ammo?
The girls have a good sense of humor.
Eh... clenching my fist, I crushed the geth into scrap metal, and we moved on.
But soon, doing tricks with energy became dangerous: we ran into geth troopers armed with firearms. Samara, apparently, began to guess that I have a special relationship with ordinary bullets, so she put up a biotic field. It took all the damage, while also allowing it to be dished back out.
Tali used her pistol, often hitting them right in the head. She has good aim, although her skills are lacking – the slow target-switching speed is proof of that. But the quarian clearly has the potential to improve her AIM through experience. And that wasn't the only way she helped: several heavy geth arrived, which she hacked with impressive speed, making them our temporary allies.
I, however, used exclusively telekinesis, crushing groups of enemies. I performed monotonous and repetitive actions like a program locked onto a single attack. Such is our lot: minimum effort – maximum effectiveness.
Thus we reached the gates of the research complex, where such crowds of geth awaited us that Samara immediately warned...
— The barrier will have to come down soon. The sustained damage is exceeding acceptable limits.
— I can try to hack the turrets and buy us some time, - Tali offered, emphasizing her usefulness.
— Hm... - I hummed thoughtfully, gazing at the huge building that loomed over the research complex. Next to it stood another structure, about fifty meters away. — The more weight, the more geth it will cover.
Extending my hands toward the targets, I feel the Force penetrating the structure of the massive constructions. My mind, focused on their frameworks, tried to establish a connection with every component, as if I were becoming one with the steel colossi.
Concrete and steel, beams and windows – everything yielded to my influence. Tensing my shoulders and pulling my hands back, I exerted a powerful effort, pushing the buildings forward.
The result was not long in coming: the two massive structures, obeying my will, began to collapse like houses of cards, covering the crowds of geth. Their artificial intelligence calculated the threat in a split second, but their bodies of metal and plastic proved too slow to get out of the impact zone.
Debris and concrete slabs flattened them to pieces, leaving behind only junk.
However, danger threatened us as well. But I was ready. Creating a Force vortex, I repelled the flying debris, not allowing any dust or shrapnel to touch us. As they say, nothing extra for myself, but for the geth – everything, down to the last bit.
Almost a rhyme.
When the dust settled, we surveyed the ruins. Mountains of mangled metal clearly confirmed: the attack was successful.
I sighed with relief, feeling the tension gradually leave my body. Although, to be honest, it wasn't the victory that relaxed me – it was impossible not to note that the ratio of enemies destroyed had once again exceeded fifty percent. In my favor, of course.
— Kinda weak, - a voice came from behind me. Her words dug into my pride like a poisoned knife. — I thought you'd send the geth off the planet with a wave of your hand. But instead... a primitive "burial alive." If, of course, such a concept applies to geth. Weak, very weak.
That provocateur...
— Am I dreaming? - Tali's shock was soothing, but it wasn't enough.
— Weak? - I repeated, drawing my two lightsabers. Activating the crystals, I summoned the plasma blades: scarlet and violet. The scarlet blade burned brighter, fueled by the anger that filled me. — Guess I'll have to get serious.
— And before this, you were in nirvana?! - the quarian exclaimed loudly.
— Before this, - I turned to her, crossing the blades. — I was just waving my hands.