I took one last look around, standing near the entrance to the vertical shaft leading to the underground passages. A construction crane stands here, used as a lift mechanism, with piles of soil lying around. There's some distance from the camp to this spot, but we needed a level area for a landing pad anyway, so we leveled it.
Next to the crane lies a mountain of stasis cells and other equipment that we managed to extract but didn't have time to move out. Down below, underground, lies an equally large mountain; after all, the lift's traffic is limited. And we're only cutting pods from the nearest halls on the lower tiers; the upper floors with pods are located at a height of thirty meters. I understand that the insectoids, which the Protheans are, can climb up there without problems. But we can't; we need a crane or something similar. But for now, there are enough pods low down, so we took those.
Everything is going strictly according to plan.
What plan? The task. All your technologies are built on reverse engineering the technologies of an ancient race. Often you first recreate the technology, set up production, and only then, having samples, test it to provide a scientific basis.
And it doesn't matter here—humans or the Citadel—the basis is different, but the method is the same. And then you get information that on an empty planet there is a device capable of significantly advancing your technologies. You have a Mass Relay, you have an address.
Yes, the Council Races know about Eden Prime. Because there were Geth here, Dragon's Teeth, and Husks. Because there is a working Prothean beacon here. The Mass Relay in the system is active; people have flown into it.
But at the same time, there are no excavations. No black-market archaeologists. No reconnaissance by the Council Races. Nothing and no one. We checked.
Therefore, the excavations were started, but not quite in the right place. The thing is, according to Javik, the Prothean vault aka the library and the stasis halls are two different rooms in different places.
We arrived on a stealth ship. Looked around. No one on the planet.
Landed a small group, set up camp, but a small one. No one.
Dug a tunnel, landed the remaining people and equipment in them, began to position them below, in the stasis vaults. Everything is isolated there; they won't notice. No one flew in.
Showed that we were loading a ship and it was flying away. But in the shafts, we left a full complement of soldiers and a lot of technical personnel. As soon as the ship flew away, the guests immediately showed themselves.
That's not bad; we found out what the problem was. And it's bad; we've almost dug to the hall where Javik's cell should be.
Generally, the engineering teams anticipated this outcome, so in case of bombardment, the passages between sections (1,000 sections with 1,000 stasis pods each, closed by thick airlock doors) are cut so that machinery can pass. And when we drive off the enemy, we can dig up the beacon too. But that's for later.
For now, I'm looking through the avatar's eyes, the optics of a rocket complex from the PKO system, and another satellite, as the ships hovered over our base. It's too early to go down; the shielding will interfere with my control of the rocket launcher left on the surface.
"Squad 'Dno', I'm in position. Ready to start the fireworks."
Communication is by cable, but it will likely be destroyed when they descend. Shouldn't rely on chance.
I don't even doubt we were being watched. I'm not sure from where; it was likely a stealthy ship. Whether it was in the system originally or it's a satellite like ours. Но the timing of the attack just guarantees surveillance. The ships arrived in orbit and hovered almost directly over the camp.
Batarian Raiders of increased boxiness and their escorts. If Turian ships look like birds, these are more classic elongated ones, thickening toward the stern.
"Dana, what's happening?" the Lieutenant's voice came over the radio.
They're coming to visit. We left a satellite in orbit to keep an eye on the situation even without a ship. That's the one I definitely won't be able to use from below.
"Shuttles are detaching from the large ships. The small ones are turning their noses toward the planet, likely preparing guns for support."
Indeed, six shuttles and six sharp-nosed machines detached from the ships, likely something combat-oriented.
"Come down, Dana. That's enough."
I chuckled.
"Too early, I'm controlling the anti-aircraft system; the shielding below is too good. I'll send a greeting and then come down."
The Protheans, when they built their dark undergrounds with high ceilings, also shielded the hall perfectly. I don't lose the avatar's signal from the quantum beacon, but the PKO systems or the satellite in orbit are already out of range. So I'm sitting here, waiting.
"Fine, just don't expose yourself."
"You wound me, Lieutenant. I'm not that easy to destroy. They're starting their descent, I'll be there soon."
The ships formed up: the transports, looking like flying bricks, in one group, while the assault machines rushed forward, clearly for reconnaissance and suppression of resistance.
Surprisingly, the assault craft look almost human. Coal-black, having a classic layout for human machines. Two engines, wings with hardpoints where the guns are, a third gun under the cockpit. Stabilizers and rudders on the stern. It seems this really is a converted atmospheric machine.
The transports resemble boats with engines, also black, closed, and angular.
The automation would attack the nearest targets, the assault craft. But I am not automation.
"Glory to the robots, you bastards."
The assault craft split into groups of three. One group circled over the camp, the second over the excavations. They noticed me but didn't attack. It seems they haven't figured out what our rocket complex looks like yet. Well, a rocket to their grave. Likely, they decided we were hiding; the transports continue to descend in a group. They'll land between the camps if they make it, and will be able to attack any target at will. There are enough soldiers in the shafts to suppress them, but I definitely don't like the concept of orbital shell rain. Better to wait it out under a roof.
"Three, two, one, launch."
With a hiss, the rockets headed for the target, catching the moment when the assault craft went into a circle and couldn't respond quickly. Let's see: ten rockets, six shuttles. The first batch of six rockets, the second another four for those who can evade.
The first almost evaded. The warhead explosion caught the machine, but it, smoking, flew on, descending but controlled. The second did no worse than the first, even better. This one is almost undamaged, flying along, just slightly unevenly.
"Come on, they seem to have decent pilots..."
The third evaded completely. I don't get it—is it my targeting, or are they that good? They scattered to the sides no worse than our Pelicans. I'm starting to feel useless.
But the fourth transport tumbled out of a fire flash as a burning torch, heading uncontrollably for the surface. The fifth and sixth followed it, but as a rain of debris. The fifth detonated in flight, the sixth just crashed, breaking into pieces.
That's more like it. Now shift fire to the interceptors, two rockets. These also showed their skills. One was hit, but the pilot ejected. The second went in for a landing, leaving a smoky trail behind.
So, we have three shuttles and four machines. And only two rockets. Still, the complex can turn and aim quickly. Covenant Strike Craft are extremely mobile; you can't get them without that.
Rockets and machine-gun fire hit the settlement; that's the second trio lining up, trying to get the anti-aircraft gun.
"No offense, boys, but I have more interesting targets than you today."
The transports, which are descending as fast as they can. So, launch!
Almost immediately, the installation was covered from the air. With a roar, a slug slammed into it, clearly from a ship. The explosion scattered the gun and a couple of nearby houses into pieces that flew across the area. Apparently, someone's nerves gave out. Oh well, we got our shots off.
This time, the shuttles' rapid descent played a cruel joke on them. They tried to brake, but two rockets, two hits. An explosion, and only two clouds of burning debris headed for the surface. That's better.
The last machine—apparently the pilot got scared—just went into a tailspin, trying to get as low as possible before something hit. As if I have any more rockets. Will you crash? No, it looks like he managed to brake. Oh well.
"Bye, losers!" the avatar gave the middle finger to the interceptor hovering a hundred meters away and jumped into the shaft, using the crane cable to brake. Never repeat this if you need the skin on your hands. The avatar doesn't feel pain, but I still need the material on my hands, so I have to be careful. Shots rang out from behind, but it didn't matter anymore.
The dark tunnel, a couple of hundred meters deep, gave way to a hall. High, square. From this angle, the stasis hall resembles the walls of hives with honeycomb-cells sticking out of them. This place is quite dark and high, with a zone lit by lanterns only about thirty meters below. However, for me, this isn't a problem; I just use other vision modes.
Below me lies a slab cut out to penetrate inside. When it was cut, it crashed down with a loud clang. A meter thick; the cutters were exhausted sawing through it.
Also on the walls, you can see new air ducts installed by humans. This place is large, and pumping in air is a must, and there's a purification station below. It turns the nitrogen-oxygen mix into an oxygen-nitrogen mix suitable for humans.
The space of the hall also filled with sounds. I see a couple of M739 SAW machine guns on Warthogs aiming at me below, while the avatar slides down, and the silver dome of the "umbrella" system. As soon as I landed, the Lieutenant approached.
"How did everything go?"
I smirked, causing the man to flinch. Turning on Khaela's facial mimicry elements had been a good decision after all.
"Minus two planes and five transports. The first wave of the landing has fizzled out. But they'll clear everything up and come back anyway; there's an entire battlegroup up there. Now, we just have to hold on."
The officer nodded.
"Excellent work, you've bought us time."
The avatar moved deeper into the halls toward the positions. The soldiers had constructed defensive lines out of empty pods and M12 Warthogs, forming a perimeter. I needed to equip myself in armor; this avatar was no tougher than a Geth, and they were quite fragile.
Besides the two M12 Warthogs, an Umbrella system stood slightly to the rear. Actually, I felt a bit sorry that the concept wasn't mine, but belonged to Vice Admiral Whitcomb's marines. However, I had found the time for one of The Possessed to speak with the authors of the idea.
***
It happened like this. A company of defenders found themselves semi-encircled under fire from Covenant tanks. There were liquid shields and tanks of magnetic fluid, so the bunkers were holding against plasma mortar fire. Banshees swarmed over the base, and the fluid reserves were slowly but surely running out.
The order came: retreat. But retreat was only possible across open terrain. The problem was that for a plasma tank or Banshee fuel rod cannons, both trucks and M12 Warthogs were one-hit kills. At best, half of the company sitting at the base would remain. At worst, only ten or twenty people would make it out.
Then Whitcomb's subordinates looked at the shield generator, looked at the trucks, and began loading. They mounted generators taken from the outpost bunkers onto a truck—a cylinder with a three-meter radius and two meters in height, with projectors all around. They put fluid tanks on other vehicles. They boarded the transports, raised the domes over the convoy, and drove.
I don't know what The Covenant thought, but the Humans lost only two M12 Warthogs and ten men in the battle with the Banshees during that retreat.
An Umbrella can withstand a hit from a Wraith. A second one destroys the shield completely (unless you have a fresh tank of fluid). Furthermore, while the shield is raised, you have to drop to ground level to attack, and even that doesn't always help. Lobbed plasma mortars will just hit the shield.
The design has its downsides: the size of the device. A large generator and a magnetic fluid tank that has to be hauled separately. Ideally, several. The dome's radius isn't that large (five to seven meters). But it's important to remember that the same vehicle would otherwise have been destroyed by the first hit along with all the infantry.
In short, while the technicians are trying to design a mass-produced model of a mobile shield generator, the military has manually built several tens of thousands of them from scrap materials. One was even handed over to us for the colony's defense.
No joke, the cadets were studying the installation and assembly of such a unit in class.
Why didn't we use it to protect the mining camp? The shield wouldn't withstand an orbital bombardment, and we didn't have PKO with us. It was easier to just dig in underground; cutting through a couple of hundred meters of depth would be difficult. Given that the catacombs here are many kilometers long, we could retreat deep into the mines if necessary. Fortunately, the crane we took was powerful enough to lift heavy structural elements or vehicles.
***
And so, in the darkness of the tunnels, the waiting began again. We sat in the dark, flashlights off, switching to thermal imaging. We didn't know how the enemy was equipped. Maybe it would work. Or maybe they wouldn't find us. Only the hum of the shield generator broke the silence. I gave the plasma reserves to the drillers so they could dig out Javik faster. And to cut through doors for a further retreat into the complex if things turned sour. I wouldn't need extra plasma there; let them use it up.
"What do you think is happening up there?" one of the privates asked.
A second one turned to me.
"Dana? You should know better than anyone."
EDI and the Quarian were sitting nearby. It was the Quarian who answered:
"They are slavers. They'll scout the camp and then come here. If they've captured anyone, you won't see them again," Tali'Zorah said, looking at the soldier through the blue glass of her helmet.
"Everyone is here," the officer replied. "These aren't ordinary civilians. Everyone here knows what to do. So, at the alarm, everyone retreated into the mines; we'll stay here if it comes to it. But don't think about that; help is coming."
We sat in the dark, talking amongst the soldiers and waiting. Occasionally, the shadows of people passing by in the adjacent hall flickered in the rear. That was the second line of defense and the civilians, and behind them were kilometers and kilometers of stasis blocks. The halls were separated by massive blast doors spanning the entire width of the room, into which we had cut holes. Some doors had collapsed under their own weight over time, crushing the pods. Fifty thousand years had passed, after all. But in the nearest halls, there were no such problems, so we simply made ourselves an entrance.
But the Batarians still hadn't come.
"What do you think they're waiting for?"
"Maybe they're trying to make contact?" the second one suggested.
"They don't know how to turn on the lift," the Quarian blurted out. "What? I had to learn to use your technology myself. I don't think they know how to push buttons. Or maybe they have embedded neuro-communication modules, like yours."
Chuckles broke out.
"Then we wait," the sergeant concluded. "Don't relax; sooner or later they'll figure it out. We need to hold out for another eighteen hours."
And we waited a bit longer. Then a bit more. Then a glow appeared above.
"Get ready!"
Drones flew into the tunnel, lighting up the walls with the fire of their engines. In the darkness of the hall, they were perfectly visible. Small, about a meter in size.
"Don't show yourselves! Sniper, take them down!"
The position was covered by the dome; the drones were about two hundred meters from the sniper. I slipped out from under the shield, raising my pistol. With my optics, it wouldn't be difficult. Let's see what you are.
A flying tripod with a gun on top, glowing engines in the "legs." Four drones.
"My analysis suggests they aren't particularly tough. They can't fire while moving; they'll spin and miss. No armor, lightweight construction. Damage a support and the machine will be disabled."
At that moment, the drones circled the hole in the ceiling and began to descend. Shots rang out: the sniper, me with the pistol, and a couple of others with scoped carbines. The theory proved correct; the tripod is very unstable in flight.
Two turrets were knocked down by shots; the slightest damage to the chassis and the platform begins an uncontrollable fall, spinning wildly. Another one literally exploded. The last one attached itself to the ceiling, deploying magnetic grips, but a second later it deactivated and simply fell down with a clang.
"Compared to the Geth, the protection is non-existent," the Quarian said, approaching a turret. She reached out her hand, around which the dense light of an Omni-tool flared. "There, now it's safe."
The avatar nodded at her look.
"It will come in handy. Thank you."
The Quarian returned under the shield.
"You might be a Synthetic, but..."
"But?"
She thought for a moment and said:
"During the Reaper War, we managed to cooperate with the Geth. First with Legion, then, when he sacrificed himself, with the others. So you owe me. You'll help reconcile us with the Geth. I know it's possible, but I'm not sure how. We used to have Shepard; he knew what to say. Both organics and Synthetics, and even Reapers, listened to him."
While it was quiet, I could find out more. I created a private channel so as not to disturb the soldiers and asked:
"What was he like?"
"Shepard?" At my nod, she replied, "He always knew what to do, what to say. We and the Geth almost killed each other, but Shepard managed to stop everyone with just a few sentences. I'm not good at talking; I just don't know how to reconcile everyone without him."
Well, look at that, she's ready to ask for help. Of course, the Quarian is being processed; I know this because she was told who I was immediately. Precisely because from the codex obtained from EDI's data banks, we know about the relationship between the Geth and Quarians and how it was resolved. The Quarian doesn't trust politicians or spies, but after getting to know them better, she can be quite loyal to Synthetics. I don't know why.
"No! Well, I mean, yes. I heard you cooperate with the Geth. And I need your help. I'm a Quarian, you're a Synthetic. Each from our own side can come to an agreement. It'll work. Probably."
I nodded.
"We'll see what can be done. You're right, I have the capabilities, but I don't know how it will work out. For now, we have a battle coming up," and then into the general channel, "what else can the turret owners throw at us?"
A relevant question. The Quarian pondered:
"A landing force, probably. From the lift. I haven't heard of Batarian jetpacks. Maybe they'll send more robots. If anything happens, I'll help with Overload. Just don't put yourself in the line of fire, okay?"
The avatar waved it off.
"I'm not that easy to destroy. But thanks."
The lift went up. It seemed the guests had finally figured out how to operate it. It had only been... three hours. We wait fifteen more. The team, frankly speaking, had relaxed somewhat. They didn't leave their positions; they just agreed that neither side could win. The pirates couldn't break into the underground complex, only head-on with heavy losses. Without adequate geological surveying, it was hard even to determine the complex's boundaries, let alone dig through. We couldn't leave. So we sat there, chatting with EDI.
Also, I was using robots to watch the technicians finish cutting the doors to the hall with Javik. Very soon we would be ready to extract him. Almost fifteen kilometers on foot to get to the right hall—quite a distance. These people had done a lot of work, and when everything was extracted from here, even more would be done.
"By the way, Dana."
The avatar turned to the sergeant.
"Yes?"
"If you were capturing this place, what would you do?"
EDI and I swapped options. The process took about ten seconds.
"Use ship weaponry to cut a channel from the nearest river and threaten flooding."
The Quarian, who seemed to have managed to fall asleep, jumped up.
"Are you serious?"
EDI answered.
"We analyzed the options. A frontal assault does not yield a guaranteed result; time is limited. The most logical course would be to cut a channel and issue a threat of flooding. In the event of resistance, we would be unable to retreat or request timely assistance. Damage would be dealt in any case, even if the enemy is driven out."
Silence was her answer. And there really was no alternative. There was no fortress on the surface capable of withstanding an orbital bombardment, so hiding in a pre-prepared bunker for us was just logical. It remained to be hoped that our opponent was too stupid to flood the complex.
"Well, for now, they've just decided to use the lift," one of the soldiers said tensely, trying to lighten the mood.
And indeed, the platform had gone up, and now, judging by the sounds, it had reached the highest point. We had to wait another half hour for its return. Finally, the sound of the descending platform echoed in the silence. Several hundred meters—the descent of a cargo lift to such a depth is not a fast process.
"Get ready!"
When the platform appeared, it was clear the enemy had prepared. They had built a literal barricade out of the pods we had stored near the shaft. Someone noted:
"The eggheads are going to be furious; so many things have been riddled with holes."
"Quiet, wait!" the sergeant cut him off.
A strained hum erupted, and a rain of bullets struck the dome, causing it to ripple. Judging by the sound, it was something mounted.
A sniper rifle cracked, echoing in the halls, and the sniper reported:
"They have a combat robot with them!"
***
It looked like a minigun or its equivalent. However, it stopped hitting the dome, and the burst swept across the sniper's position.
"Alive, behind cover!" he reported. "It's a damn two-legged mech!"
A rocket hissed from the lift toward the sniper's position. The roar deafened everyone, and judging by the silence, the sniper was out of the race. Enemy assault rifles began drumming against the dome, not penetrating, but leaving ripples on the water visible to the mechanical eye.
The M12 Warthogs immediately rolled out from under the dome, firing bursts of armor-piercing rounds from their machine guns straight through the pods.
Yes, a 12mm bullet is a convincing argument. It shredded the cover; judging by the clatter of weapons falling from the height, at least a couple of shooters received a bullet as a gift, maybe more. But the hum of the machine gun didn't go anywhere. However, it seemed the robot was still a bit too high; after all, we were ten meters below the descending lift.
A grenade bounced off the dome, exploding in flight and creating new ripples. Then a rocket hit it, chasing the M12 Warthogs as they rolled back under the shields. Unfortunately, one of the gunners was done for, and the second was being pulled from the vehicle as a medkit was cracked open. Alive, that was the main thing. Others would take their place.
How much simpler it would be if Yellow or a combat avatar were here. I would have solved the issue alone with grenades and a hammer, but the current Possessed was intended for socialization.
The lift platform descended even lower, and the firefight entered the "suppressive fire" phase. On our side: two machine guns, riflemen, rockets, and grenades. On theirs: the robot and a couple of shooters who survived the machine gun fire. The kings of the battle in both cases were the machine guns. The rapid clatter of the M12 Warthogs' multi-barrel guns against the strained hum of the robot's four-barrel machine gun. Cover was shredded like paper (as was the robot's armor). Determining who was still alive and who wasn't was impossible. After about six seconds, it all ended, but I managed to get hit too.
The avatar was thrown to the ground as bullets riddled it; in response, I sent them a grenade while lying down. The cell was intact, there would be no explosion, though the systems took a hit—I lost half my sensors, the gyroscope was dead, and other minor things. If you count an arm as minor.
Several explosions went off on the lift platform, then it began to rise.
Apparently, the survivors there also decided they didn't need this kind of "luck." Or they had run out, along with the robot, which was no longer firing but only burning and sparking. In the end, silence fell, broken by the thumping of medics and groans.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Ceasing to track the platform as it disappeared into the hole through my sights, I looked at the Quarian. She was sitting over me, waving her Omni-tool, scanning. She filled the hole in the chassis with nanites.
"Unexpected. Thank you."
She helped me up. An arm was torn off, leaking white fluid over the right half of the chassis; there was also a hole in the leg. The torso was intact, but the face was partially torn. The Quarian continued helping with emergency repairs, restoring functionality. As much as was possible in the current situation.
"Platform functionality reduced. Otherwise in order, Tali'Zorah. Thank you for the field repairs."
The sergeant, already bandaged, smirked.
"I hope they got it the first time. Too many dead for one attack, but we have over a hundred guys here. We'll manage."
Well, look at that, I was being "bandaged" too in a sense, as the hydraulic channels were being sealed. And a Quarian was doing it. EDI sat nearby; she also had a couple of holes in her body.
At the sound of footsteps, I turned, making the Quarian flinch. So what if I turned my head 160 degrees?
"Don't do that again!"
I looked at the guy in the white coat.
"Report on the reasons for the perimeter breach."
He stopped, trying to catch his breath, and wheezed, sitting down where he stood.
"Found it! Found the pod! They told me to tell you personally. Here. I told you. That's it, I'm living here now."
"Excellent. I'll finish with the repairs and we'll go get acquainted. Another fighter won't hurt."
And he might also know where other exits might be.
***
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