Chapter 7: Chapter 6. The end of the road
After my first attack on the batarian colony, I had to hide, because the armed forces of the Batarian Hegemony rushed around the controlled territories as if stung in the ass in vain attempts to find a gang of synthetic bastards who destroyed the colony. And on the Citadel, their diplomat went to hell trying to force the entire fleet of the Citadel space races to comb the galaxy in search of the attackers.
The four-eyed bastards began to stir, they didn't like how their citizens were treated, and yet their "pirates," acting with the full approval of the batarian government, also attack peaceful colonies to recruit slaves. Well, never mind, get used to it, vile xenos, this was just the beginning, you will still howl with despair.
***
After receiving the test subjects, research on the creation of biomaterial went by leaps and bounds, although the resulting material contained exclusively batarian DNA. However, the DNA chains in the biomaterial were extremely unstable and the subsequent processing of the biomaterial in the internal vats of the Reaper completely rewrote the batarian DNA to the one that is identical to the Reaper at the moment, and I observed the process and began to try to repeat it. And if a virus that completely rewrites the genetic structure, although it was difficult to replicate due to its carbon-silicate base, but at least I had already worked on a similar task before and had an extensive database on it, then energy processing from psi-emitters became for a big surprise and a new headache for me.
When the batarians calmed down a little, I again raided their colony, along the way recruiting other races of the galaxy as test subjects, from asari and krogan to turians and salarians. I recruited all of them exclusively from criminal gangs in the Termina systems, and I even managed to find a couple of quarians there who connected their lives with crime.
In general, I did not sit still, although the batarians did too, and when they attacked the colony, I was met by part of the batarian fleet, which included several cruisers.
I had to scramble, although I didn't give up so easily and jumped deeper into batarian territory. Due to the fact that the four-eyes strengthened their borders, some of the forces had to be withdrawn from the internal territories and, in addition to a couple of frigates that quickly fell under fighter fire, I was greeted only by more advanced air defense systems, a larger population of the colony (24,000) and a planetary defense corps of one thousand batarians military. However, the jammer did not allow them to send a signal for help, the air defense systems fell victim to a cyber attack, and the military's resistance was crushed by a new type of Terminator-class mechs that had recently entered the market, the essence of which can be described in two words - a walking tank.
The four-meter droid walker, on two short legs compared to the rest of the body, had an impressive mass effect core and shields not inferior in strength to those of light fighters. And four pairs of cannons mounted on the upper manipulators were not inferior in caliber to fighters and left only bloody mincemeat from the batarian defense forces. And I didn't say this about the disintegrator and thermobaric charges installed on the back and shoulders; the battalions simply didn't have a chance.
The situation that time, like all subsequent ones, repeated my first raid on the colony: suppression of xenos, selection of slaves and residents of the colony of non-batarian race, liberation and loading of these xenos onto ships (this time batarian, for there were sufficiently capacious ships in the colony and xenos who know how to control them), a selection of one and a half thousand healthy batarians and genocide of the remaining ones. And in the end, the destruction of the colony and possible evidence with prepared explosive charges.
And then everything is new: research, studying the Reaper, experiments on experimental subjects, attacks on colonies to recruit new experimental subjects, and so on in a circle. Sometimes he paused to meet with Benezia or his trading partner Bartus, but over time the turian began to become more and more impudent and wanted to reconsider our partnership contract, and characteristic elements of my technologies began to appear in weapons produced by Khaliath Armory, and Benezia began to become more and more active before me to harass, almost directly saying that he wants to transfer our relationship to a horizontal plane, which involuntarily raises my problem of viability as a man, because I am now just an insensitive, high-tech piece of hardware...
***
Termina systems, Milky Way, Crescent Nebula, Tazale system, planet Illium, banquet hall of the Blue Pearl hotel building.
Watching Benezia openly flirt with the turian general Primus at her event turned out to be...not very pleasant. It was so unpleasant that I again involuntarily tensed the synthetic muscles on my face, causing a gloomy expression on my face.
-What did you want? She's been trying to get you into bed for forty years, and the second half of this period clearly hinted at a deeper relationship than simple sex," responded Aethyta, who had noticed my attitude to what was happening, sitting next to me.
"Yes, I understand." He imitated a sigh and took a sip from a glass of alcoholic cocktail, providing himself with a pause in the conversation. "But I'm just afraid I won't be able to give her what she wants."
I can't be clear, I've barely gotten close to synthesizing a biosynthetic organism with the DNA I need, but at best it will be decades before I get a normal body.
"Is this because of the quarian?" Aethyta interrupted my thoughts, deftly pouring cocktails for both of us. —Is she why you ignore Benny?—.
-What? Quarians? What does she have to do with it? I haven't seen Tala for thirty years." I was perplexed by such a strange question. -And how do you know that I used to date a quarian? Nobody knew about this, except...—.
"Well, Beni is really very interested in you," the asari looked away, but still continued. —And I turned to the Shadow Broker. Sorry Gordon.—.
-No, nothing, I understand. Did you manage to find out anything interesting? I decided to ask what the Mediator could dig up on me.
-Actually, almost nothing. Fifty-three years ago it was as if you didn't exist, no witnesses, no records, nothing at all. Then he showed up in the Termina systems, where he saved the quarian. He had a small ship of a strange design and advanced technologies unknown to the general public. He organized the company "FreeMen Armory" in collaboration with "Haliat Armory", and so on, which can be found on the official website of "FreeMen Armory" on the extranet. - Etita shared. —No place of birth, no relatives, even your age is not known for certain, not to mention your race.—.
-Heh, I already told Benezia. I was born into the slavery of the batarians, I was able to break free and escape, and the ship was my project, which I did for my former masters." He grinned as believably as possible, trying to calm Aethyta's curiosity.
-So you were enslaved by the batarians? Curious." A rough voice interrupted us with the characteristic chatter of turian mandibles.
And so it turned out, standing behind me was a tall turian in a high-tech combat suit manufactured by FreeMan Armory and was piercing me with an attentive gaze.
"Corvus Salit, Special Tactical Reconnaissance Corps," the turian introduced himself, sitting down next to him and pouring himself a bottle of turian liquor, waving off the approaching waitress with a casual gesture. —And so Gordon Freeman, what do you know about the attacks on the batarian colonies?—.
It's a very dangerous situation, and probably for the first time in my life I found myself in such danger, because even when I came across a patrol of batarian cruisers I was able to escape without much difficulty. But here, in my "civilian" shell, I won't be able to escape, especially from SPECTER.
SPECTER are the strongest, smartest, most dangerous, in general the best warriors in the service of the Citadel Council. SPECTERs are not trained, they are chosen from the best representatives of the races included in the Citadel Council - the highest authority in the Citadel space. Or rather, a representative of any race living in the space of the Citadel can become a SPECTER... in theory. However, traditionally, SPECTERS are chosen from the asari, salarians and turians, whose representatives, coincidentally, are part of the Citadel Council. Becoming a SPECTER is a great honor for any sentient in the galaxy, although initially there were no SPECTERs, there was a GOR (Special Response Group), a secret reconnaissance and sabotage Salarian government organization, whose effectiveness amazed the Citadel Council, which gave impetus to the creation of the Special Tactical Reconnaissance Corps. SPECTER have enormous power and can do whatever they want, laws do not apply to them, the main thing is then to present a weighty argument in favor of their actions in a report to the Council. That is, SPECTER is above the law and if he wants, he can shoot me right here and no one will interfere with him. Why don't I, he can shoot everyone here, although later he would hardly justify himself to the Council, but still. Overall a dangerous organization. The only disadvantage of SPECTER, unlike MOUNTAINS, is that they are self-sufficient. That is, money, equipment, connections, they have to get all this themselves, but this also frees up the hands of the SPECTER and any of their representatives can have their own fleet... well, in theory. In practice, the construction, maintenance and provision of a fleet is a monstrously expensive pleasure worth trillions of credits and, recently, my new headache.
— SPECTER you say, this is the first time I've met SPECTER in person. By the way, good equipment." He returned his attention to the turian and took a sip from his glass, trying to lie as convincingly as possible. -And so, batarians. I heard their colonies in the traverse have been terrorizing for twenty years, killing colonists, freeing slaves. It seems like this is done by a gang of synthetics, or one synthetic, although the Council is silent about this point and on the extranet they say that these are attacks by pirates. What nonsense, the pirates are not attacking the batards? The batars are pirates, or rather, there are too many of them in pirate circles and I don't think they would attack their colonies. As for me, the four-eyed people got what they deserved, so let's drink to the well-being of the synthetic bastard, it was high time to rein in the slave traders.—.
Having finished speaking, I drained my glass and looked at the SPECTER, whose mandibles were moving furiously, betraying his anxiety.
—My predecessor fully shared your point of view, and that is why his investigation did not get off the ground for so long. Yes, and I had to spend several years before I was able to discover several clues, these synthetics cover their tracks too well, their technologies are too advanced," the turian said calmly without looking away, and then activated his tooltron and displayed a picture of my Machiavelli cruiser. —What was my surprise when a photograph of the flagship of synthetic terrorists led me to the founder of the most technologically advanced weapons company, FreeMan Armory?—.
"Machiavelli has not belonged to me for a long time, I long ago moved to the lighter and faster frigate Leonardo," answered SPECTER.
Which, by the way, is kind of true. After acquiring the base, I no longer needed to use the cruiser as a mobile laboratory, and to move around the galaxy under the guise of Gordon Freeman, I designed a faster, more convenient, maneuverable and cheaper to maintain light frigate Leonardo - whose smooth hull and streamlined shapes, although they look less menacing than a heavy cruiser, but leave the impression of a representative, elite class transport.
But I allegedly sold Machiavelli. In fact, I "sold" it to third parties and left a real digital labyrinth so that they could not track the final buyer, and the ship itself remained with me, was re-equipped, slightly changed in appearance, but the shape of the hull and anti-proton engines cannot be hidden so easily, so it is not surprising that They finally contacted me.
"What's going on here?" Benezia suddenly joined the conversation, arm in arm with the turian general.
"Just a little conversation." Corvus turned his gaze to his new interlocutors and hurried to say goodbye. —Lady Benezia, Ms. Aethita. General Primus...Mr. Freeman.—.
After he left, Benezia turned a worried look at me, and Aethita poured a stronger cocktail, although I can drink ship fuel without any effect. Well, the problem has arisen. Now we have to be even more careful, God forbid they link Gordon Freeman with a gang of synthetics. Life will become much more difficult.
However, I didn't have to indulge in thoughts for long; a message came from a very old number with very unexpected content: "Mr. Ultron, I ask you to come to the Migrant Fleet to participate in the funeral ceremony of Tala vas Garadot. Altra vas Aralai."
***
Salarian Union space, Soleil system, Migrant Fleet.
After receiving the message, I immediately went to the coordinates I received, only having time to say goodbye to my asari acquaintances. Nobody stopped me, most likely because they saw the letter, which I did not hide. So I got to the place in the shortest possible time, even earlier than the quarians expected, and therefore I had to wait.
Left with my thoughts, I felt...pain? In fact, I have never lost loved ones, never at all. And Tala was a close friend of mine for several years. And although she used me, although we did not communicate for decades, she still remained someone very significant to me. It was she who, albeit indirectly, gave me life, and therefore it was even more painful, I didn't even have time to talk to her normally before my death. And why? Because of resentment and a different perception of time. Being a synthetic, I can exist as long as I want, but quarians are mortal and live about the same amount of time as humans.
I spent all this time on board in heavy thoughts, I couldn't even switch to work, so I accepted the appearance of the Migrant Fleet with joy and relief. And it's worth admitting that the quarian fleet was a majestic spectacle: fifty thousand ships, from dreadnoughts to light frigates, trucks and transporters carrying the entire quarian people, about seventeen million quarians... sadly few for an entire race.
"Unknown ship, identify yourself and the purpose of your presence, the route of the Migrant Fleet lies here," I heard a male voice after receiving the incoming signal.
-This is Leonardo, I...Tala's friend Garadot. I came to say goodbye. I have an invitation from Altra to you Aralai. — I sent my identification data to the dispatcher.
-Oh...my condolences. Fly up to Garadot, Leonardo will meet you there. But I must warn you that upon arrival you must undergo complete disinfection due to the high risk of infection.—.
With the last words, the dispatcher sent me the location of a light frigate, not inferior to mine in size, with a crew of a little more than forty quarians, and all I had to do was get closer to this place. Having found Garadot and estimating the free space in the fleet, I gave the command to the VI ship to stay close to Garadot and follow the fleet, and I boarded the shuttle and flew into the carefully opened hatch of the quarian frigate.
On the ship, as I was warned, I had to undergo complete disinfection from ultrasound to mass fields and walk in a spacesuit to calm the quarians, "breathing" the stored air.
Although, as a synthetic, I am sterilely pure... on the other hand, if the quarians had found out that I was a synthetic, they would have blown me and Garadot and the entire crew to hell, just in case.
When all the procedures were completed, I was finally able to leave the hangar, although on the way out I came across an unfamiliar quarian in a turquoise hood over a spacesuit, apparently waiting for me.
"Are you Ultron?" the quarian looked at me with interest. —I imagined you differently.—.
"Why?" He also examined the quarian, which did not escape her gaze.
—Mom talked a lot about you, in her stories you were almost a SPECTER, which made dad constantly jealous. Yes, and I thought that the intelligent one, after whom my mother named me, would be more like a quarian," the girl said and turned around and threw it over her shoulder. -Follow me.-.
It took me a couple of seconds to realize and accept what was said, so the quarian only managed to move away a little before I caught up with her.
-So you are Tala's daughter, right? And they named you Altra in my honor," I concluded, to which the girl only nodded. -You can call me Gordon, Gordon Freeman. What else did she tell about me?—.
-That you saved her during the pilgrimage and came out after being wounded when she was pregnant with me. That you are very smart and...unique. That you always helped her until she made a mistake and seriously offended you. And that she regretted until the end of her life because you didn't even give her a chance to explain herself," the woman literally hissed, throwing a withering look at me from under the translucent face plate of the spacesuit.
"That's right, do you know what kind of mistake she made?" I asked the furious girl, who apparently didn't even suspect that I was a synthetic.
Having waited for a negative nod from the quarian, he continued. "You know, your mother had a friend who, not out of great intelligence, gave the security systems of the Migrant Fleet to the batarians for improvement, and they wanted to use this to obtain such outlandish slaves as the quarians. For this they wanted to expel the girl from the fleet and the only option for her to clear her name was to personally go and take away these systems. A real suicide mission. Only Tala didn't tell me about this, she just wrote that the batarians were preparing an attack and she needed help, and in response I immediately rushed to the pirate base, where I found half a thousand xenos armed to the teeth. Five thousand pirates and I, with a couple of dozen mechs, a rifle and biotics to our advantage, rushed at the first call, risking our lives, but still managed to complete the task. And then I found out that I was used as a bargaining chip in order to save a stupid quarian who had framed the fleet with her actions. And even so, I wouldn't mind helping if they told me everything honestly, and didn't use it in the dark. It was then that Tala received the quarian systems back and lost her friend," Altre told about the events of fifty years ago.
The quarian listened to me very carefully and even stopped in a deserted compartment to listen to the rest of the story, and in the end there were clear sobs coming from under her helmet.
- Hmm... m-mom until the end of her life regretted that she did this to you, and I thought h... hmm... that everything was simpler and she just dated you and my father at the same time, s-sorry. I still can't believe that she's dead," Altra said, interspersing her speech with sobs and reached with trembling hands to her pouches, taking out a memory chip from there. —Mom wanted me to give it to you, and that the information contained there is only for you.—.
After this incident, we continued on our way and now Altra was much friendlier to me.
In the end, the girl led us to the captain's bridge, where all the quarians on the ship were crowded together, and in the middle lay a strange capsule with a transparent top, allowing us to see the quarian lying there without a spacesuit with her eyes closed. And although her hair turned white and her face was covered with wrinkles, I still recognized her, my former friend and failed mother whose earthly journey in this world ended - Tala you Garadot.
I paid little attention to the ongoing ceremony, glaring at the lying quarian, greedily memorizing every wrinkle on her face and curl on her head, as if I was afraid to forget, as if I did not have a photographic memory.
The captain of the ship made some kind of solemn speech, someone was crying, and when this part was over and the guests were allowed to approach the deceased, I waited for my turn, put my hand on the transparent surface and said only a few words. -I forgive you Tala, be happy in your next life.—.
When everyone said goodbye to the deceased, the captain pressed something on the terminal connected to the capsule and Tala's body was consumed by fire.
"We burn our dead, because there is no extra space in the fleet for graves." We fertilize the plants with ashes, so our relatives and friends remain forever on the Migrant Fleet," Altra clarified what was happening when she saw my questioning look.
The last part of the process, as the girl said, was the burial of the collected ashes in the soil that was on the ships for plants growing here and there.
Having seen off my old friend on her last journey, I boarded my shuttle, returned to Leonardo and flew to my base, along the way changing the shell from the civilian model to the main one.
-...and I'm really sorry that I did this to you, I shouldn't have, I was too scared for my sister and was afraid that you would refuse me. Believe me Ultron, I regret every minute I live about that mistake and if I could fix everything, I would do it. Well, at least I kept your secret and it will go away with me. Farewell Ultron and if you can, forgive me." I listened to the recording on the quarian's memory chip.
"Fuck, she left and now I can't even tell her anything. Damn it! And all because of my stupid offense. Well, goodbye Tala, the only thing I can do is pacify my pride and be more reasonable." flashed through my head while I was watching the video message of the aged Tala.
We are all mortal, even the asari, who live for more than ten centuries, but I have the power to find a way to make, if not everyone, then at least the intelligent ones closest to me, immortal, and the biosynthetic DNA of the Reapers will help me with this.
***
"Sir, are you sure this is correct?" the turian first mate decided to ask his captain, watching the flight of their target on the on-board computer.
—I will never believe that such a unique ship as Machiavelli "surfaced" from such a unique synthetic by accident. A synthetic that is responsible for the deaths of more than a million civilians. The death of a million batarians, who kept Freeman in slavery. He is connected with these attacks and I will get to the bottom of the truth," Tactical Intelligence Corps Specialist Corvus Salit answered without even turning towards his subordinate.
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