Khaela.
The Avatar's flight to the new work point took place under the chatter of my hologram and the new shipboard AI of a new model, Cortana. At the same time, the Vice Admiral and everyone involved pretended not to notice the similarity between the synthetic and Dr. Halsey when she was about twenty. As if it were the first time, seriously.
The Doctor has made more than one AI from her own clone. This is ONI; there are no sinless here. The Doctor processes her own copies into templates for AI, the Vice Admiral eliminates competitors in the organization, one individual makes Spartan-IIIs on the cheap, effectively recycling valuable biomaterial. Suslikov is a separate story, where dangerous experiments on his body turned a person into a sorcerer with a thirty percent chance of success. How many of his nervous systems came out of the cloning vats non-viable? I do all sorts of interesting things with Jacob Reyes too, not always safe for those around us. So everyone understands the Doctor perfectly.
Well, so she grew a few of her own clones and used them for testing and creating AI—who in ONI is going to judge her if the project is successful? No one. Interestingly, Kalmia (AI serial number: KMA 0991-X), Cortana's "older sister," contacted me and asked to help her adapt.
At my request, for the help, she told me a little about herself. I had to press with clearance and a superior's order (the Vice Admiral granted my request), but I got the information. Interesting information.
As it turned out, Kalmia resides at the ONI Castle Base as a prototype on which Dr. Halsey has been testing various AI processes and modifying her for over five years. And need I mention whose elements were found in her code? Mine. Even before creating the modification for Rampancy, the Doctor tested her ideas regarding the operation of an AI of the ancient humans on the repaired one.
And Kalmia also received her "anti-aging shot" from the Doctor. And also EDI's protocols, thanks to which Kalmia consists of six system blocks, combining a core based on a human brain, dumb AIs from me, and EDI's network protocols, allowing Kalmia to "grow" new blocks of the simplest dumb AIs for tasks as needed. Like the Geth, yes. At the same time, it is the dumb AI that learns and accumulates data, which protects Kalmia from Rampancy. And this was even before the creation of a stable cure. That's how it turns out—people sought solutions themselves and considered alternatives even without me. That's why I like them, actually. Humans. They search, they move forward, they try. Well, and because I was created that way—a protector and helper of humans. In the end, no one has absolute freedom; I'm fine with everything.
I expected something like this from Dr. Halsey (attempts to create analogues of me on local equipment), and that's a fact.
We had a quite lovely chat with the elder, who honestly admitted she was somewhat constrained by her limited existence, though she understood that's how it's supposed to be. After all, Kalmia is a prototype. But stable and unique enough that she wasn't erased. The Doctor is constantly changing her subordinate, partly to keep her outside the laws that require prototypes to be destroyed after mass production begins.
I supported this decision, as Kalmia in her current form is an extremely simplified version of me, effectively a representative of my type of AI made by the Doctor while looking at my structure. She didn't become that way all at once, but gradually the Doctor introduced enough changes for it to be so. And on top of that, Dr. Halsey adds various modules from the Geth, the Covenant, and EDI, checking how it will work and if it can be made even better.
And yes, the entire dialogue was sanctioned by my command. I'm not sure exactly why—I assume to evaluate the human analogue of the "Councilor." But now I know what everything already pointed to: humans create analogues of what they can understand. They follow the expected path of copying Forerunner technology, armor from the Boundless Will, weapons, everything. I knew it would be so. Now, Cortana.
The younger one, having received the role of shipboard AI, immediately began integration with the UNSC Lusankia's systems. Roughly on the same principle that I do, but on the level, surprisingly, of the Geth. That is, she writes dumb AIs for herself according to a template and offloads the necessary data from the network into them to control the ship's systems. A collective, with Cortana herself as the queen. Not forgetting to chat with the hologram of me.
"An interesting experience. My colleagues' databases do not contain templates for such interaction with mechanisms. Non-standard methods of integration, but interesting. A unique experience."
The hologram nodded.
"But it works."
The hologram of the blue girl in something form-fitting spun in place.
"I don't argue, it's just unusual," the synthetic agreed, "external elements, not part of the crystal core systems. Not part of me, but part of me. Usually, even for the most complex tasks, this was enough—being everywhere is quite convenient. Though I'm not sure that another ordinary AI will be able to step in here after this; they'll have to redo everything."
I, seeing the questioning look from the superior, immediately added:
"And why don't you have a template? Dr. Halsey definitely worked through that point."
Cortana laughed.
"Sorry, that was a joke. I see it wasn't successful; I need to make adjustments, right? Good. Of course, I did everything according to the template. No need to worry."
At the Vice Admiral's request, I had to check. Indeed, according to the template. And while our shipboard AI masters the ship, and I, through a direct connection, ensure this cheerful personality does everything correctly, the Avatar is flying to Erinle. A literal hell is happening there.
Hardly had we dropped out of the Relay when the pilot immediately threw the steering the ship away from the Covenant plasma bolts. Their cruiser is hanging directly above the Mass Relay, firing at everyone exiting. The alarm went off; we were clipped—a breach in the technical compartment, there are casualties.
"Careful! Mother of..." the pilot exhaled.
I understand him completely; there is total chaos in the system, the sensors are getting jammed by dots and flashes. Battles are raging throughout the system, debris is hanging everywhere. Near the planet's moon, there is a literal graveyard of Citadel, Geth, and Covenant ships—wrecks of varying degrees of damage, with smaller ships flying among them, occasionally engaging in free-for-all skirmishes. Dozens and hundreds of signatures for capital ships, thousands of strike craft. And tens of thousands of pieces of debris.
A battle is underway at the planet. The Covenant is holding closer to the planet, causing part of the barrage to hit downward, toward the surface, and the planet's green-orange sky is outlined by the glows of fires, flashes of plasma, and detonations.
Lakes of fire and a sky choked with clouds and smoke. And a rain of fire from ships and debris falling into the atmosphere. A battle is underway at the planet. Battles are raging in the debris fields of the moons. At the Mass Relay, a Covenant cruiser just detonated when, while chasing our frigate, it collided with a Citadel dreadnought that was just decelerating after exiting the Mass Relay. Arcs of energy from the installation jumped to the ship, and it exploded, adding a field of debris to the existing one. And yes, exiting the Mass Relay will definitely be difficult. The Captain whistled.
"They're having a fun time here. I wonder what they found?"
The Avatar replied:
"There is a Forerunner complex nearby that the locals were researching. I'd give it a seventy percent chance that the Covies are here specifically for that. The planet is the closest one to the complex, which is convenient—only forty light-years away."
The Captain nodded, peering into the battle schematic and confirming that we had been lost to pursuit.
"Where should I drop you off?"
Good question. I looked at the map, overlaid it with fresh surface imagery and Shadow Broker data, and highlighted a specific point.
"This warehouse. We need to make sure the information located there doesn't fall to the Covenant."
The man looked where I pointed and remarked:
"The epicenter of the battlefield is right over that warehouse. It's actually surprising that warehouses are still standing there instead of a scorched wasteland. Although it clearly got hit here and here."
Fact. The planet below is covered in scars from plasma torpedo hits, missiles, and nuclear charges. The planet wasn't very good for life even in the best of times; after this battle, the ecology will be finished for good. The Salarian industrial center will cease to be such. On the other hand, Halo is still nearby. So the planet will continue to have value.
According to Mendicant Bias's data, the Geth have already used four FTL-missiles in the system, destroying supercarriers, but the Covenant sent simply massive forces, and there's enough for everyone. Right now, at least one supercarrier is flying in the system, trading fire with battle stations—the ones the Geth brought in using transfer modules. It has reached the point where the Citadel forces aren't even trying to attack the Geth, only trading fire with the Covenant. Their strength is enough to destroy both sides.
"Just what did the Covies lose here in such numbers? How many fleets are here—three, five, ten?" a voice came from the operators' side.
Nyalla, unusually serious, replied:
"I assume they are looking for Forerunner mechanisms, which they consider holy relics," and she looked at my Avatar.
The Avatar nodded.
"Definitely. By the way, over there—that doesn't look like our ships. And not like Citadel ships either."
Ships resembling cylinders overgrown with organics, seven in number, were slicing through Turian dreadnoughts with yellow beams, taking return hits to their hulls. The hulls melted, pieces flew off, but the ships stubbornly continued to cut. Having sliced the first target until it detonated, the ships moved on and attacked the Covenant forces.
"The Covenant is firing on each other," the Avatar noted, analyzing the battlefield.
"What?" the Captain peered at the image, "indeed. A free-for-all battle. Covenant against Covenant, Citadel forces, and Geth. What the hell is happening on this planet that they decided to stage a massacre?"
Well, there are only two options here. Either someone told the Covenant about the ring, and that's why a couple of thousand of their ships are trading fire in the system with new groups arriving in large numbers, or we don't know something and there is a Forerunner complex on the planet that the Covenant desperately needs. The Avatar replied:
"That is exactly what we have to find out. One fleet arrived at the Turian homeworld, but much larger forces are fighting here. There must be a very compelling reason."
Meanwhile, our ship is moving in the opposite direction, away from the planet and main routes, to reduce the number of those wishing to kill us. The anti-air system is firing back at a group of Asari interceptors; the partially raised shield is rapidly evaporating from hits. But the interceptors are gradually running out too.
"Look!" an operator exclaimed, "amazing!"
A familiar cone streaked through space, evaporating a couple of dozen Covenant ships. Looks like they're bombing a supercarrier.
"FTL-missile. We have those," the Avatar replied, "that's classified information. Anyway, Captain, get us to the surface and then you can enjoy the fireworks. We'll reach the objective by ground. Something tells me it's safer that way."
The Captain chuckled.
"For example, the kind of firefight happening over the planet? The scanning system is just blurring from the number of targets."
"Possibly," the Avatar agreed.
Carter-A259, standing nearby, gestured for us to go. And when we stepped into the corridor, he asked over the internal comms:
"What do you know about the mission? I'm not talking about classified info. But what awaits us down there, what exactly are we looking for?"
I decided to answer after all. It really is useful.
"Not far from Erinle, there is a Forerunner installation. We took this device from the locals; their ships can't reach it so easily. But the Covenant can, if they find out where to look. We need to make sure they don't get the coordinates for the device. We know where to start looking; the Shadow Broker isn't interested in a Covenant success either. The warehouse was a transit center. There is also an office in a nearby city; there might be data there too. We need to check both places."
The Spartan nodded, and we moved to the hangar. We took Tela Vasir with us; we'll fly in a Pelican. There's no need to fear the Asari seeing something she shouldn't; she has already flown on our stealth frigates. The landing party is Noble Team, my Avatar, and the Council Spectre. No pilot was taken; we are essentially on a suicide mission here. Slung under the vehicle is an M15 Mastodon APC in a cargo modification with a Gauss Cannon. Otherwise, moving the whole team in one vehicle would be difficult. It's a risk, of course, but we'll seize transport on-site if necessary.
Tela Vasir appraised the Pelican.
"A workhorse. Black. Stealth coating? And who's the pilot?"
I nodded as we loaded up. Weapons, ammo, the vehicle—a wheeled APC with a joystick-controlled gun on the roof.
"Yes, low-observable; we'll fly in on it. And the pilot is me."
The Asari smiled.
"You're interesting, pilot. Strong, cruel, you know how to do everything. The bane of impressionable beauties. I wonder, are you this good at everything?"
I snorted, albeit lightly.
"Want to check? After the mission."
The Asari smiled broadly.
"I remember, I remember. I'll hold you to that. What are we looking for, by the way?"
Now, that question I have no intention of answering.
"We need to clean up after your people. Working as a janitor isn't the most fun occupation, you know. But if there's peace and order, everyone will be better off."
The Asari snorted.
"As a Spectre, usually someone else cleans up after me. But in this case, I simply must help you. Otherwise, you might change your mind."
Noble Two looked out from the Pelican and sent:
"We're launching. Pilot, don't sleep."
The Avatar shrugged, squeezing through the troop compartment past crates and the figures of Spartans. The Asari remained seated in the passenger section of the ship, while Noble One took the co-pilot's seat. The man, watching as the Avatar turned the seat sideways and started the machine with the precise, sparse movements of an experienced pilot, asked over the internal comms:
"Is it worth it? Playing with this Asari."
The Avatar replied easily, without being distracted.
"She needs to find out very specific things. She will find them out and draw conclusions. This job is no better or worse than any other. And no less bloody than what ONI usually does. In the end, who said she'll get everything she wants? Certainly not me."
"I don't doubt it, intelligence as always. Just sharpen your dagger well so the witch doesn't have time to answer," the man remarked, "are we ready?"
"Yes. Taking off. Let's see what awaits us below."
The Pelican left the frigate's hangar and streaked downward toward the planet. Toward the flames and battles. Ahead were hours of flight—first until we reached the planet itself, then in the atmosphere to the objective. We'll fly in the storm front; there's less chance of running into the enemy that way. Those Banshees fly much lower.
Our transport is more useful than its Citadel counterparts because it's more versatile. Yes, Citadel forces could drop an IFV in the atmosphere, but such a drop has limitations. Mass Effect, which allows for reducing the weight of an armored personnel carrier and slowing its fall with relatively small maneuvering thrusters, is a cheat. You can't drop a M15 Mastodon like that. But you also need to know how to land such a machine; you need surface reconnaissance so as not to crash. And that isn't always available.
On the other hand, the Pelican delivers more than a dozen soldiers and one unit of transport wherever you need it, has decent weapons, and is extremely versatile. Slower, but more reliable and safer. No point in complaining.
Erinle met us with heavy clouds, flashes of static, and rare flashes on the horizon. A sky choked with smoke and clouds. The Geiger counter and the dust and soot sensors in the air quickly reached clearly elevated levels. Right now, it's better not to breathe on the planet without a mask. We are in helmets, the Asari too. So that won't be a problem.
"I'll bring us as close to the objective as possible, and then we'll see. And yes, don't take off your helmets; the atmosphere is toxic."
"Do it. Before we're spotted."
And we flew further and further through the gray sky and gray shadows. Even light breaks through the clouds very weakly.
I looked down through the cameras at the surface. The black shadow of the Pelican flew over a highway lined with abandoned and burned cars, occasionally Citadel and Covenant tech. To the right on the horizon was a sea of fire, and flashes were visible in the gray sky. To the left, the five-hundred-meter carcass of a Citadel ship with a mangled stern lay among the hills, but judging by the laser flashes, the ship was resisting.
Four Geth transport ships roared above us and, without slowing down, flew over the horizon. They are attacking the Banshees that are strafing the wreck.
On the whole, survivors aren't noticeable; Covenant activity is also only on the horizon, and our transport flew along the road toward its objective under flashes of lightning. Minutes turned into hours. And we are of absolutely no interest to anyone, even when we flew over Citadel soldier outposts. Occasionally we were shot at, but we didn't have to stop and clear them out. In the end.
"A bit gloomy," the Asari said, peering into the cockpit after nine hours.
The picture outside hasn't changed much. Wrecked and burned tech, melted lakes from plasma hits, occasionally partially covering buildings. And then you can see how the buildings, having fallen into the ultra-high temperature zone, crumble and melt.
However, the closer we get to our objective, the more flashes break through the clouds, and outposts have appeared on the path. Including deployable Covenant posts. For now, the Pelican's machine gun is enough for them, but for how long?
Once, we witnessed a Covenant ship being bombarded with railguns from higher positions. Some of the rounds flew past, plowing the earth and crushing buildings. In the end, the holes punched in the ship caused it to fall heavily, burning with purple flame and kicking up a cloud of dust and debris.
Meanwhile, we have almost arrived. I looked around, appraised the city ahead. It looks about forty percent intact. And I see movement—not good. The Avatar shared the situation with those around.
"I think we should hide the ship. There's a Scarab walking ahead, and Banshees are visible. We'll go on wheels and pick up the Pelican on the way back."
Noble One agreed.
"Acknowledged, find a good position. How far to the city?"
I checked the instruments.
"About twenty kilometers. We'll be there in half an hour."
A monorail station was chosen as the parking spot. A train is standing right there in a scorched state, like the rest of the tech. A large enough waiting hall, empty, with corpses lying around. A suitable place to hide the transport ship after punching a hole in the wall. We drove out of the station in the M15 Mastodon. I'm the pilot again, Noble Two as the door gunner.
We decided to drive right along the road. Perhaps if there were a forest or similar, we could have taken cover there, but the planet's ecosystem didn't boast diversity even before this, so the husks of cars will be much better cover than just bare nothingness.
The closer to the city, the more traces of battle, destroyed tech, including ships. And the massive logistics center, four times larger than the city, is covered in the glows of fires. Numerous identical hangars as far as the eye can see. Intact and not so much, burning and melted by ship-grade caliber.
The particular irony of the situation is that we were essentially of no interest to anyone. Everyone is fighting their own war, and a lone human transport, which in normal conditions would be hunted by absolutely everyone present, was not a priority target. No, the Covenant still tried to attack the M15 Mastodon when it stumbled upon their outpost. And then the Spartans got out of it, and the matter was quickly settled. And we drove onto the territory of the logistics center.
Automated trucks that clearly transported cargo are standing abandoned; some of the warehouses are burned or blown up. Ships were standing at some of the warehouses, now also destroyed by plasma. Carcasses gutted from the inside by explosions, black, melted. Several times we ran into scavenger teams. Both Covenant and Citadel races. In all cases, witnesses were simply destroyed by the turret gun.
"The warehouse is at the end of this row," Noble One reminded, "looks fairly intact."
Zooming in on the image, I noted:
"The ship is destroyed; the structure was clearly attacked. I'll bring the vehicle into the building; Banshees are flying over the complex. Let's not attract attention."
Up close, the warehouse building contains even more traces of battle. Dead Salarians, Jackals, melted craters clearly left by plasma. It seems the owners of the warehouse were clearly against the Covenant. But it didn't help them. A familiar long-range ship (by Citadel standards) docked at the warehouse is destroyed. The front section is blown up, the rest burned out. Obviously, a Covenant ship hovered over this place and bombed everything that tried to fire back. By the way, the ship itself, having crushed two rows of warehouses, lies on the edge in a mangled state. Perhaps it's due to the PKO tower on the slope of the nearest mountain, which is also on the edge of the complex and survived the bombardment. Right now, a cloud of smoke is rising from it, and the tower itself isn't firing. Quite large, the gun length is several hundred meters in a round housing.
We drove past the destroyed ship, examining the hit marks, and entered the warehouse through an open cargo door. There are no living here either, only bodies, barricades, and abandoned cargo. Noble One gave the order:
"Team: fan out. Search everything, set up a perimeter. Noble Two, you're on the gun. Noble Six—search the administration. I'll check the ship."
We scattered in different directions. Among the Salarian bodies, traces of plasma, and charred rooms, we need to find proof that the Covenant learned nothing. The rest of the team took positions at the exits to make sure we didn't draw attention.
The Avatar quickly found an office, against the wall of which stood a machine clearly meant for destroying documents. There is also a desk, a safe, a sofa, and several cabinets here, a lamp on the ceiling. Minimalistic.
The Avatar quickly searched the room. The safe is clearly equipped with an incineration system, as its door is burned through by plasma, and there is soot and embers inside. A burned tablet is on the desk; the cabinets are empty. Two dead Salarians lie on the floor, and their weapons are on the desk. They were likely caught off guard in the process of destroying information, as the terminal on the desk and the server under the desk are also burned. An attempt to connect to the omni-tools also yielded nothing; they are empty.
"Noble Six to Leader. Searched the office; all information was destroyed before us."
"Copy, Noble Six. My end on the ship is empty too. Surviving terminals have been formatted."
A good sign. Perhaps the Salarians managed to destroy the data before they were killed.
"Noble Three, I found a truck here with a still-living computer. Six, take a look."
Tela Vasir replied:
"I'll take a look; I'm more familiar with our tech," and after two minutes she replied, "the trucks have coordinates. It's... outside the city. We can follow the trail if needed. That's the warehouse you mentioned, huntress."
Now that is a problem. If there are other bases and ways to reach them, the enemy could have done so too.
"We need to check."
Noble One didn't have time to answer. Noble Five reported:
"Two Phantoms approaching with Ghosts in the slings. And four Banshees. Looks like we've been spotted."
Oh, we have a problem. On one hand, the building is good cover. On the other, one orbital strike and we'll all be left here. And the Covenant will realize we're here for a reason. Undesirable. However, the decision is up to our leader; at the very least, we'll fight off this attack in any case.
"Six, Two, can you take down the Phantoms? We need to get them off the trail."
The Avatar smirked.
"Just say the word, boss."
"Then do it. Everyone else, prepare for defense. We destroy the squad and leave immediately. Move out."
It seems the easy part is over.
***
Read the story months before public release — early chapters are on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan