Khaela, Captain Vorhess, Batarian Hegemony, planet Klos.
Klos, a planet of cliffs, stone, and a developed mining industry. The slave-owning mining industry of the Batarian Hegemony. The landscape resembles Mars; surface temperatures reach eighty degrees, and winds of one to two hundred kilometers per hour are the norm.
All infrastructure is located in shafts beneath the colony's surface, except for isolated structures covered by atmospheric domes. From the shafts and the howling wind on the surface, the platforms of orbital elevators rise into the sky like giant needles, held by the slavers to ensure the colony's connection to the outside world. They also hold the logistics centers and stations in orbit. The shafts are inhabited by the lower castes of laborers who live among the dust and stone. Slaves live among them, in virtually equal conditions. A case where the life of a Batarian and a non-Batarian differs very little.
They mine everything imaginable here; the food and oxygen delivered to the shafts serve as the workers' pay, essentially sustaining their lives. Under normal conditions, this would be an unsolvable problem for the workers. All uprisings were suppressed when the workers began dying en masse from hunger and suffocation; the infrastructure is located beyond their usual reach. Any rebellion is doomed in advance.
But the red movement did not come from below, but from above. Ore carriers, devoid of ore but full of soldiers, docked precisely at the orbital elevators, at the sorting platforms. And dozens and hundreds of armed and very angry revolutionaries poured inside. The overseers were not prepared for this.
Not all elevators were captured; we simply didn't have enough ships. But the slavers in many places found themselves squeezed between the miners who hated them below, and the volunteers and revolutionaries at the tops of the elevators. A couple of idiots even blew up the elevators, trying to escape the attack from above. The upper part of the elevator simply went adrift, and we flew to others—after all, in case of destruction, the upper part of an orbital elevator is quite autonomous. Precisely for the case of a detonation during a riot.
On the surface, there are exactly two large objects covered by atmospheric shields. These are the residence of the local government and the city of the slavers. Going after them across the surface is a foolish idea; the anti-aircraft system is very good. And the weather, frankly, is not flying weather. But underground—that's a different matter.
Therefore, we run through dusty corridors, trading fire with the slavers in narrow guts amidst the roar, screams, and dust.
"Viva la revolución!" Vorhess roared with a hellish accent, peeking out and immediately ducking back behind cover from the bullets thudding and chipping shards of stone, "The proletariat will win, you bastards!"
The Khar'Shan forces responded only with heavier fire. Generally, the whole situation is quite telling: throughout their existence, the Batarians countered uprisings only by increasing repression or creating unbearable living conditions. And here it turned out that shedding more blood does not diminish, but fuels the thirst for revenge among the lower castes. A thirst to turn to recruitment centers, undergo training, take up arms, and put a bullet in an overseer's head. Or crush it with a pickaxe, as they do here.
But those in power essentially have no other means of counteraction besides terror based on caste. No, in peacetime there are arenas that serve as filters and social elevators for overly active servants.
Not everywhere. Here on Klos, instead of a social elevator, there was work to exhaustion and dominance over other miners. Effectively gangs, petty kings among the slaves, to whom the overseers give a little more freedom. An illusion; for drops of power and control, such "petty kings" committed perversions perhaps even worse than their masters to show loyalty. They joined the ranks of the idiots beaten to death, often by their own servants and concubines. Their end is to water the dust beneath our feet with blood.
While professionals work in certain, wealthier deposits, the role of the inhabitants of these tunnels is to search for and collect scraps for which it is simply unprofitable to run machinery and engineering teams. Regardless of social status. And they also make good, fearless soldiers who simply have nothing to lose. Convenient. Effective. Deadly.
"Come on, push! Hit them!" Spartacus ordered, watching as five miners with improvised tools ran out from around a corner, covering themselves with whatever they could, trying to reach the enslavers. They responded with fire.
Vorhess and the other shooters, taking the opportunity, opened fire on the barricade to suppress, if not kill, the slavers. All this under the roar of echoes, screams, and dust.
The slaver marksmen easily killed three miners unprotected by armor, but two others had prepared better. The first covered himself with a metal door like a shield. A couple of bullets pierced it, but the Batarian survived. And a Turian rolled and, with a precise throw, sent a cube of explosives behind the barrier. The barricade was blown apart, along with its defenders, opening the way forward for us.
Judging by the screams, all three Batarians behind the cover got what they deserved. Three more remained. Here the shooters went to work. One enemy had his brains scattered, the second and third were wounded and finished off at the cost of one more shooter. Vorhess smirked, stepping out from behind cover. Silence. The Turian approached his kinsman, ensuring there were no serious wounds, and helped him up. Spartacus said:
"Excellent, let's move on. We're almost under the slavers' building."
This encouraged the workers, and they began searching and stripping the guards. In this situation, any protection can help. Vorhess stood next to the Turian.
"Almost there. Soon Klos will stop resisting. And from there, Khar'Shan isn't far."
The Turian, adjusting his bandages, shrugged.
"They won't surrender. They know what fate we've prepared for them. It won't be as easy as it is here; we'll need to prepare."
Vorhess chuckled, checking his gear. Dusty, covered in blood, in shredded clothes and a red cloak.
"Well, worse for them. We have explosives. Lots of explosives. And a bunch of locals who know how to use them. Get it?"
The Turian nodded.
"That's good, because a frontal assault won't work. Heavy turrets in the shafts, lines of fire for hundreds of paces in long straight corridors. You stick your head out, and a stream of tungsten tears you apart. Some have already tested that for themselves. Yeah."
I waved it off.
"Good heroes always go around. And if they get too clever, we'll ask our revolutionary sailors to do a little shooting at a stationary target. I don't think they'll refuse, but if we capture it, it'll be better."
Spartacus reloaded his rifle and pointed to the exit of the corridor, through which dozens and dozens of soldiers were moving.
"Let's go. Time doesn't wait."
Of course, the result of this uprising could be the capture of Khar'Shan. Or it might not. Overall, the capital lives better than the outskirts. And intelligence says the planet is fortified an order of magnitude better than all the mining colonies combined. They feel like an elite, as many think. Several AI agents who arrived on the planet confirm this: the masters of the Hegemony are under no illusions regarding their subjects, and without a clever plan or a heavy and massive fleet, there's no point in storming the capital. We can agitate the workers, promise them a better life, and wage war here and there, arranging bloody meat grinders. But in battles for the capital, we will be washed in blood even with these advantages.
I don't think that's a good idea right now. But going through the colonies with a firestorm is. It will turn out like Earth in reverse. The UNSC suppressed numerous colonial riots partly due to better equipment and unity. No matter what anyone says, there were more Earthlings and the ships were better. Here it's the opposite—we ourselves gave the locals better equipment, and as a result, the colonies are effectively gaining independence from the central worlds. They'll settle in, prepare against a common enemy. The main thing is to ensure the center doesn't promise them anything by finding weak points. In short, a well-motivated and ideological counter-intelligence is needed.
But, to our pleasure, the locals understand this. Though, how long their understanding will last, time will tell. The system will be extremely unstable. Here, the Citadel might help them. If the colonies can establish a life much better than it was under the slavers, there will be fewer people wanting to sell out their own.
I ignored the tunnel from which the echoes of heavy weapons drifted. No one is going there now; three soldiers are standing at the entrance, turning away those who wish to enter.
"Captain Vorhess! Captain!" when my Batarian approached, a soldier in scarlet armor, another Batarian but a real one, reported.
"We're not letting anyone through, it's... bad there. You were told to arrive at the side tunnel a level below. G-8. They're mining everything there to bypass the cannons."
Vorhess nodded.
"Understood. How do I get to this tunnel of yours?"
Under the roar of cannons, the soldier explained, and Vorhess went. The tunnels are gray-red, in places there is rock art and signals from the locals. In one of the corners is a field hospital where a Turian and three Salarians are quickly bandaging the wounded, and giving the most severe cases low-quality but still functional regenerant. Vakos of the Solus family, a Salarian medical intern who arrived on Klos as a volunteer. And, as we and others suspect, an observer and STG agent. He shoots far too well. Well, what did we expect? All interested parties turned out to be in this event. It's logical.
Especially as the storming of Klos drew nearer. The planet is indeed a major mining center. Not for element zero—there is none here—but for many rare metals. Why, even our command is thinking of signing a couple of contracts after intercepting the planet. After all, you can get practically everything useful in the periodic table here. Losing access to this world, the capital of the Hegemony will have major problems updating its fleet.
Vorhess stopped at a safe distance from the demolitionists.
"And what are you planning to bring down?"
The demolitionist, a very dusty and thin Asari covered in poorly healed scars, replied:
"Right under the gun. Those freaks will fall straight to us," coughing, the Asari added, "you have no idea how timely you are. This swamp needed to be shaken up long ago."
Vorhess chuckled, breaking into a cough.
"I understand. No matter, today they pay. Everyone pays."
The Asari nodded.
"Everyone—get out of there! We're blowing it! Move-move-move!"
And Vorhess added over the comms:
"Get ready, we're about to collapse their defense line!"
"Exactly!" the Asari rasped cheerfully, ensuring everyone had left, "Detonation in three, two, one, boom, you bastards!"
The entire cave shuddered from the explosion, shrouding everything in dust, making sentient beings cringe and flinch as a collapse occurs a couple of dozen meters away, and dozens of tons of rock fall down. And I see that at our position the cave is holding, but the roar, cracking, and ringing of the supports make one doubt the structural integrity. And there's nowhere to hide; stone walls are everywhere. Primal fear, hm? A calmly standing captain should look impressive.
Gravel and dust poured from the cave; the vibration, enough to knock one off their feet, began to subside. And Spartacus's voice cried out over the radio:
"Tunnel is clear! Forward! Forward! Attack!"
Somewhere in the distance, screams and the clicks of shots rang out. Excellent, the process has begun. I nodded to the Asari.
"Give me the second pack."
The Asari waved her hand, not even trying to cover her ears.
"Get ready! Detonation!"
The roar of an explosion followed, and debris fell into the tunnel, much less this time. There was no collapse, but a rain of gravel crashed down, opening a view of the corridor. Who knew that scanning equipment would help find things like this. No one even guessed there was a slaver service tunnel here.
"Fire," Vorhess pointed to the grenadier. And he, deploying his weapon, sent a series of grenades into the dust until the belt ran out, "Excellent, forward! For freedom! For the revolution!"
The Citadel has some decent shotguns. Vorhess, taking advantage of the modest fact that The Possessed doesn't need to breathe, was the first to rush into the dust, gripping the shotgun more comfortably. Another Possessed runs nearby, a Turian, no longer controlled by me, also with a shotgun. Over the pirate outfit with a breastplate and armor, he and I wear red cloaks, partially gray from dust.
Among the stones lie the bodies of Batarians killed by grenades and the collapse. While Vorhess emptied the shotgun into a still-living Batarian, dropping him, the second Possessed fired a harpoon upward, then with a couple of jumps climbed up. Shooting broke out, and Vorhess climbed higher himself. The Turian pressed against a warped door, one leaf of which was open and bent about twenty degrees. He is shooting into the passage. Seeing Vorhess, he nodded, and while Vorhess fired several shots inside, he sent in grenades.
A smoke grenade and two fragmentation ones. Smoke began to fill the room, explosions and screams rang out, and two warriors with shotguns rushed inside, smashing, rolling, and finishing off enemies, using the native shields of humans and their advantages.
"Clear."
Vorhess nodded.
"Excellent, forward."
And we ran to the corridor. Peeked out and hid again from the gunfire. Behind us, the first rebels are already climbing up.
"Any smoke grenades?"
The same dusty Asari caught up with us. She showed a rocket launcher.
"Only this."
Vorhess smirked.
"Burn them, baby! Ready?" she nodded, "Covering!"
We began shooting roughly in the direction of the enemy from around the corner. We are synthetics; we can aim by modeling the corridor and the location of targets. The Asari jumped out, resting the rocket launcher on her shoulder; the barrel barked, releasing a projectile. The Khar'Shan soldier barricade flew apart with a roar and screams, but the Asari also slumped to the stone floor, wetting the dust and gravel with her blood.
"Ha, I got them... I'm, ha..."
A Batarian who happened to be nearby pulled an injector from his belt and sat down next to her. Previously he was a farmer, now a combat medic. The Asari's breathing leveled out; she tried to stand.
"Stay down, don't move. Regeneration is still going," the Batarian snapped.
The Asari laughed, but the laugh turned into a groan.
"Look at what we've come to, a Batarian saving me. What a motherfucking miracle. Hey, Vorhess!"
I turned around, already in the tunnel.
"What?"
"Tear them apart in there."
The Possessed nodded and ran, catching up with the others. They had already engaged the Batarians who had blocked the tunnel with another barricade a level higher, attacking the assailants from a balcony. These soldiers controlled the main corridor from the parapet, creating a good density of fire even without a turret. They were attacked by us from the side, from the direction of the transition, and deprived of cover, they tried to retreat. They killed two, lost five, but successfully retreated into the tunnels, higher and higher. Vorhess stood up, waving a flag, and immediately jerked when holes appeared in the flag. The attackers still didn't know there were no more enemies on the balcony. The captain shouted:
"Friendly, you idiots! The balcony is clear, the enemy is retreating, or I'm not Captain Vorhess!!! And yeah, don't go in the elevator, I'd have mined it. So use the stairs, or better yet, we'll punch new entrances! I'd have mined the regular tunnels too. Get it?"
And so it proved. The enemy, retreating, mined every passage in a row. The idiots who decided to check did so at the cost of their lives. We had to spend time digging through. The process accelerated significantly when Spartacus captured several deep shafts and brought up tunneling equipment from there. And the process went much faster and easier; mass effect drills crumble rock into dust very well—you just have to clear it away. Something the locals were used to.
Finally, the insurgents dug through to the underground parking lots of the slaver city. At that moment, an entire fleet of pirate tubs entered the system, and a space battle also began to boil. Vorhess only smirked.
"Push on, boys and girls. We need to get control of this place's anti-aircraft system. We can help our fleet up there."
The assault continued. Explosives opened new entrances; the enemy resisted desperately, placing heavy weapons and traps in unexpected places. For example, a heavy turret occupying a balcony on a second-floor bridge and controlling the corridor from a high position. Punching through the floor a level below right under the bridge, the revolutionaries collapsed the bridge along with the turret and defenders without exposing themselves to fire. In response, they mined the passage and collapsed the tunnel onto the heads of fifty attackers. The attackers responded by drilling into the first floor of the slaver nexus, and a slaughter began inside. Grenades, rockets, explosives, pickaxes, and hammers. Everything was used.
In the end, an entire wing of the building collapsed, burying dozens, if not hundreds, of overseers.
But the pressure did not stop; our goal is here. Here, in a protected hall, is the control center for the anti-aircraft system. When Vorhess entered, it was already over. Only corpses being dragged away by the new masters, pools of blood, metal, and sparking terminals. The jammers preventing the activation of pain implants in the slaves' heads were no longer needed.
"So, time for a change, ladies and gentlemen. Now Captain Vorhess will show you something interesting. May I?" the captain smiled charmingly at a Batarian woman in red with a shotgun, and she gave up her seat, tilting her head to the left, "Much obliged. And now let's play with the IFF system."
Actually, not just that. From here, one can get at least partial access to the complex's security system. Which means many unpleasant surprises await the local rulers.
The anti-aircraft system was the first to surrender. And the colony's numerous guns changed their targeting. Some of the cannons attacked the slaver ships, many of which were using the PKO coverage zone as cover for safer firing. Until the guns' IFF parameters changed, it even worked. Now their tubs rained down on the planet in fire, with no chance of survival in such a climate.
Those that didn't attack the slavers lowered their barrels, crushing the defense lines of the Batarian government. And we are talking about PKO guns sending projectiles into orbit. And balconies, turrets, walls designed for weaker targets are simply turned into gravel. Along with the defenders of the old regime.
"Anti-aircraft system disabled. Forward, red warriors! Forward! For freedom!" Vorhess announced.
"Excellent! Finish these off and descend! Give it to them down there!"
Under the roar of large-caliber guns, the rioters rushed through the streets of the former masters' city, covered by an atmospheric dome, carrying out a massacre. Many of those who were freed saw the sky for the first time in years, if not decades. They stopped, looking up in awe. And there is something to see. Besides stars and dust clouds, a rain of fire from ship debris and defense systems is falling on the city.
And over the city, a guttural Batarian voice blares from all the speakers:
"The animals have crawled out of their burrows, out of their pens. You don't have a chance. Do you think your new masters will help you? Do you think you'll go to heaven, to a new life? You are trash, needed by no one. The whole point of your existence is to work so that the Hegemony can be great. Because the lower castes are not capable of greatness without us. Without those who guide you to success. You should be grateful to us for this, and you? You try to bite the hand that feeds you, guides you, gives you work and a purpose for existence..."
Well, of course. Everyone else managed, but Batarians can't manage without more important Batarians. And yes, I checked; the upper castes have no significant differences from the lower ones. Well, you never know, it might turn out to be important? No, the difference can be attributed to the standard of living.
"And now, shut up," Vorhess smirked, "I'm doing the talking. One-two, people! This is Captain Vorhess! We're finishing the cleanup of the Overseer nexus here, and the anti-aircraft system now works for the glory of the Workers' Movement! The chips are disabled, no need to flinch, no one can punish you anymore! We have the sky, we have the earth, workers, servants, and slaves. Behind us are those who believed in us. Ahead is freedom! You have no chance, hiding behind the walls of palaces. Surrender or be destroyed!"
But the resistance did not stop. Yes, they retreated into the corridors of the palace basements, effectively surrendering the upper level to us. And this is reasonable, as the balconies and generally the first line of defense are partially covered by the anti-aircraft system's fire. One hit, and a ten-meter hole appeared in the palace wall. But the corridors and basements—not so much; you can't get in there that easily. And those aren't all the surprises.
"They have a transport line under the palace!"
Vorhess growled.
"Well, who would have doubted it. Intercept them!"
We won't storm the station itself, but we can destroy the line, right? Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. We control the sky; with the capture of Klos, the locals will have an ecosystem, resources for autonomous existence and trade. Take it and build a new life, if there's a will.
And also because Klos is a source of colossal reserves of miners, slaves, and servants. Those who are the fuel for everything we do. A huge sorting center, and a large slaver station in orbit. I assume they appreciated the ship with the nuclear charge that arrived at their station. Well, what else—we had to deprive them of the privateer fleet; a battle and landing would have been unnecessarily bloody. We are already taking serious losses in these tunnels.
If not for the locals, with their skills, it would have been even worse. We have to advance room by room, fearing traps and surprises. But when we finish, one of the Hegemony's centers of slavery will be liberated. And that is why we are doing this. And that is why we will do it. Today.
***
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