Helgan.
The building of the "Shtal Weapons" Corporation.
The meeting hall.
Actually, this room could compete in history with a similar place at "Vizari Corp." Fate-deciding decisions were made here, impacting the entire planet and its people; videos from preliminary demonstrations of equipment models were broadcast here. Each such event was accompanied by genuine heated clashes of opinions, which would truly deserve a whole battle scene.
Now the walls were shaking with the sounds of yet another verbal battle…
- This is outrageous!
Jorgen Shtal tried to keep his usual smirk on his face. It wasn't going too well—the general Ande somehow managed, just by his appearance, to provoke suicidal urges in a Helgast usually not prone to depression. However, the general-inspector acted this way towards everyone—which the Vizari valued greatly. Because annoying and tedious, Ande Kristoff had fantastic abilities to find various flaws, which positively affected combat capability.
"Maybe it's those sideburns? I don't know—they work like antenna amplifiers… Or something like that…"
Shtal seriously got carried away trying to find a connection between his mood and the vegetation on the general's face, so he lost the thread of the conversation for a second.
- …we cannot weaken the planet's defenses! Because of you, those cursed Synerogy and Birdsnouts openly film our military facilities and equipment! And you are enabling them!
Actually, besides Shtal and General Ande, there were five more people from the Empire's highest general staff present in the meeting hall. And as bad luck would have it, Colonel Radek couldn't come, being busy with other matters. Too many things had to be changed in the Palace considering new technologies—and Radek, as head of security, took on revising security measures with his characteristic zeal.
Shtal waited for the general to pause for a breath and then jumped into the outraged speech:
- General, just to remind you, I happen to oversee trade with alien races. And it wasn't just anyone who appointed me to this position, but the Emperor himself. And so far, he hasn't had any complaints about my work… From either the Vizari or the Karg.
Mentioning the head of the SIB sobered most Helgasts. In the Empire, the "division of labor" in the highest spheres of power was long understood: the Vizari emperor is kind and forgiving, but behind his compassionate figure stands the grim black shadow of the Karg. Who spares his boss the most unpleasant tasks…
Unfortunately, General Ande was one of those utterly lacking imagination: he had no "skeletons in the closet"—which meant he was right. Sometimes Shtal thought that Ande simply didn't know what fear was—the sideburn-wearer simply lacked the imagination and fantasy for such a complex emotion.
- Shtal, you are an industrialist. You are an economist. And I am by no means infringing on your domain. – Kristoff shifted tactics slightly. – BUT! You are not a military man. You make weapons, but those who wear uniforms have to use them. And the more effectively we apply them, the better—if the enemy remains unaware of our capabilities!
I don't think you understand this!
The general took out an info tablet and wirelessly connected it to the projector.
- Behold!
Actually, Shtal already knew what caused the unrest in usually calm military circles. It was an article printed in the "Citadel Bulletin." In fact, there was nothing remarkable there—just another analyst ranting about the Empire's excessive militarism and calling for disarmament.
At the very word "disarmament," the head of "Shtal Weapons" felt a burning sensation starting in his chest—Jorgen Shtal loved and valued weapons, and the thought of sending still-functioning weapons to the smelting furnace stirred a storm of negative emotions.
Although the issue wasn't even in the article itself, but in the accompanying material—a series of photos taken on Helgan—the "Torturer" moving across the testing ground in the planet's desert area.The image was blurry and noisy, filmed from something like an autonomous drone, but even so, the walking war machine overwhelmed with its size and made the uninitiated flinch.
Of course, the strange machine became the object of everyone's attention. Stahl laughed heartily when reading the users' guesses about the creation of his corporation: the assumptions of those inexperienced in weaponry "experts" were one more ridiculous than the other. Stahl hung the particularly bright gems in the lobby of the corporation's main building.
As for the source of the photographs, it was identified quickly. The autonomous drone was delivered to the planet by one of the Azari and activated after her departure, so the cause of the commotion was unreachable. It was impossible to even find out who exactly she worked for—whether some organization or a "freelancer" trading in information.
- And what worries you?
- What do you mean "what?!" A leak of information! – Ande began to get angry. His luxurious sideburns moved as if they were a separate living creature.
- A leak? I don't see anything terrible. The "Torturers" aren't something you can hide forever. Sooner or later the information would have surfaced. Besides – we still don't have an order to raise the secrecy level. The Emperor emphasized that during his conversation with me—we have nothing to hide, we're a peaceful planet…
"The main thing is not to laugh…"
- …Plus, this model is one of the very first on which we are testing technical innovations, like mass shields.
Stahl took out a thin cigarette and lit it, then, looking carefully straight into the general's eyes, said in a deceptively soft voice:
- I create weapons. I sell them. And by doing so, I bring money into the treasury. Don't interfere with me advertising weapons, general.
- Selling "Torturers" to potential enemies? – Ande almost choked on the air.
"Thick-headed idiot…"
- To clarify – the old models of "Torturers." Ones we can produce in mass without diverting production capacity from innovative projects. – Stahl expertly blew a ring of smoke, admired the result, and continued.
- "Torturers" were originally industrial walking modules. Later they were abandoned, justified by the excessive voracity of these machines, but for the army they proved quite promising. As far as I know, you rated their potential as heavy defensive platforms for anti-space gun defenses?
The generals exchanged glances and reluctantly agreed with the industrialist. "Torturers" could overwhelm a weak-spirited enemy with their size, trample entire tanks and armored personnel carriers, demolish entire fortified areas…
But that would be like hammering nails with a microscope. The real value of the "Torturers" lay precisely in the fact that the heavy neutron emitter, petrocite reactor, and fairly high mobility for a machine of this size made them a deadly enemy for the enemy's space fleet. Moreover, in current realities, where warp jumps are mastered only by the Empire, this protection is if not absolute, then close to that concept.
Stahl did not want to stop at the current level, and Visari supported Jorgen in his desire to make Helgan a monopolist in the market of super-heavy defensive and strike weapons.
But for this, first of all—you need money, and secondly—experience.
And while the first problem had not yet arisen, the experience in using the most modern production technologies had to be gained as quickly as possible…
- So… - Stahl blew another smoke ring. – Since we've settled this matter, I propose moving on to more pleasant things. Namely—to sketches and projects. What will we arm our new army with?
***
The military always prepares for past wars – and when thrown into completely unfamiliar conditions, they looked like genuinely frightened children… Who urgently needed lots of shooting-killing gear.
Actually, the Fleet's demands were the most modest: modernizing ships using the mass effect. We're obviously not talking about engines, but auxiliary equipment. Loaders on the destroyer and using it in some auxiliary systems would reduce equipment size and allow for more efficient use of space to accommodate additional detection devices, weapons, or simply improve living conditions. No Helghast officer said this outright, but the living conditions on Alliance ships seemed much more pleasant than the Spartan conditions on Helghan cruisers.
An important detail was that during combat watch, an Imperial ship was a home for the crew, literally. Even if the ship was undergoing modernization or repairs, the crew stayed on it, going "ashore" only on leave.
Because of this, the Fleet had a record number of bachelors compared to the Army – and a record number of brothel regulars, which was the source of stupid military jokes…
Things were much more complicated with the Army.
- Sorry, I probably misunderstood… What exactly do you want? – Stahl briefly thought that Major General Tod, who made the proposal, hadn't slept well…
But General Tod dispelled all doubts. The military wanted a ship that could deploy "Tormentors" DIRECTLY ON THE BATTLEFIELD. Stahl was momentarily lost at such a powerful request.
Of course, "Tormentors" can be transferred between planets – after all, how else would Helghan plan to sell them? The giant leg-stands disassemble, get loaded, and the "body" also breaks down into sections – after which a caravan of ships sets off to the customer.
Disassembling one "Tormentor" took from two to three days – depending on the model. Assembling it took from three to four. But Lieutenant General Tod, commander of the Empire's young airborne forces, decided to go further and, together with a group of Fleet officers, presented a concept of a carrier ship that could carry THREE "Tormentors" in its belly.
This monster was frightening even as a vague five-kilometer-long sketch.
"Perhaps I was too hasty with my proposals…"
- Um… General, this is very interesting, but I'm afraid it's not possible yet…
- Why not? – August Tod was bald, clean-shaven, and looked like a frowning stone – especially because of his dark gray skin, darker than most Helghasts'.
- A core of that size is unlikely to be purchasable along with the rest of the equipment. And inevitably the question will arise: 'Why do you need it?'
Stahl caught his breath.
- However, the concept is undoubtedly interesting – and we will return to it when we learn to build cores ourselves. I think that will be much better for the Empire's security, and the project will clearly be overseen by SIB – it's too serious a machine. But maybe in about four years, if everything keeps progressing at the same pace… Alright?
After thinking it over, Tod nodded.
The rest of the meeting, in principle, went calmly. To Stahl's relief, the Army refused to use mass effect firearms – despite all their advantages, generals disliked the seemingly excessive complexity of such systems. The Fleet and Airborne also preferred tried-and-true models, but there were plenty of modification ideas. This especially concerned heavy weapons, which were now potentially available to any soldier, not just stormtroopers in exoskeletons. New weight and recoil compensation technologies had already made the "Stahl Inc" central server folder grow not by days, but by hours.
Still, throughout the meeting, Stahl kept returning to the carrier ship sketch for the "Tormentors." The project truly interested him, although the generals did not yet need to know about it…
***
Emperor Vizari's office.
- …Thus, we can improve supervision over our guests. – Karg concluded.- Very well, but I think you overcomplicated it. – Visari remarked doubtfully. – Wouldn't it be simpler to completely block their access to the restricted zones?
- Simpler. But not necessarily better. – Karg replied. – The Citadel and the Alliance will dig where they notice the most confusing activity. The interest of the GOI was caused not so much by the fairly logically closed sites like the Shipyard or the ground complexes, but by the camps in the Wasteland that are unclear to them. The consequences are quite dire. I intend to "smear" their attention, and at the same time – prevent them from working. Hinder them by all means – we can't stop them…
- …but we can lead and manipulate their attention away from the especially important objects. I understand you. But are you sure you can do it? – Visari took a sip of tea gifted by an Azari diplomat. Although it wasn't tea, but some dried seaweed from Tessia, but… it didn't matter. Tea is tea.
- No. But there is no other way – we can't hide forever! – Karg bristled, looking more like a raven than usual. Most Helghasts knew what a "raven" was only from pictures, but that's exactly the nickname stuck to the head of the SIB. He, however, didn't mind…
- Forever… – Visari snorted. – You know, I really don't like that word. The promise of "eternal friendship" usually turns into betrayal. Like love, by the way…
Visari spoke while browsing reports on the state of affairs in the mining cities. The reports inspired cautious optimism – output increased, the number of accidents noticeably decreased.
However, even that couldn't lift the ruler of the planet's spirits:
- I never hoped that Helghan could remain in the shadows. We appeared too brightly – such things are not forgotten. And we had a certain advantage of surprise, and now we are using it to the fullest. But sooner or later comes the moment when tribes, peoples, or even races start interacting not on a level of "buy-sell," but on a much deeper one.
Karg grimaced:
- You mean…
- Yes. I mean cultural competition. Ideological. Social. And it so happened that we had a unique opportunity to show ourselves in the best light. – Visari stood from the table and went to the window. – The key word is "HAD."
Somewhere down there, his people lived. The young were strolling somewhere under the glass dome of the "Crystal Dome" park, the old tossing in restless sleep, the workers washing off the sweat and caustic grime of the mines…
- What will we be to the Alliance? Silly gray-skinned mutants who decided to play Middle Ages? Crazy inhabitants of some scruffy little planet who happened to stumble upon a gold vein – and who are fair game to be robbed? I hoped that Hera would lead full relations with the Alliance and the Citadel, once I stop bothering her with my grumbling.
- Emperor, as far as I know, your health is in perfect order – especially considering your age and lifestyle. – Karg remarked diplomatically.
- That's not what I mean… "Raven," don't caw! – The emperor snorted. – Tell me, how many have you killed?
- Fifteen. I, if you haven't forgotten, had the honor to serve under your command as a sniper during…
- I mean – not only with your own hands.
- I'm afraid I'll need a week to count. – Valery Karg, head of the all-powerful SIB, twisted his thin, bloodless lips into his widely known smirk in certain circles.
- Don't forget to add those two duels that I "know absolutely nothing about" to the list. – The emperor didn't miss a chance to reprimand his subordinate. Karg's smirk faded slightly. – An adult man – and risking his life because of mistresses…
No, Karg. I'm talking about the fact that we – those who laid the foundation of the Empire – didn't mix it with flowers. But with blood, bones, spilled guts, and such a number of shells, poison, and knives that you could make a small mountain. Because there was no other way.
Visari grimaced as if from a toothache:
- Because every day of hesitation means more dying from diseases, hunger, suicide. Or do you want me to remind you,Why are the Suicide Corridors called that? Or why do we have the Hall of Lost Old Men in the catacombs? We shed blood, ours and others' – but these names are engraved in our people, and they can't be erased.
And I desperately wished the Alliance wouldn't see this. That it would have to be Hera and your successor talking to the Alliance – let me guess, you want to put Gerhard in his place?
- That was the idea. But he's only one of three candidates.
- Not bad… But that's not the point. The Alliance will try to squeeze the most out of us! And now, when they've learned more about us, they realize they can strike at the still weak core of the Empire! Rip out that core – and after a while, Helgan will become just another Alliance planet, only with a slightly different population… A couple of generations – and descendants won't understand why their ancestors were starving, why they built everything themselves, why they were proud of their planet? That's what I'm afraid of to the bone, Valeriy! Me, you, everyone else who remembers pre-Empire times – we are simultaneously building the Empire and are its vulnerable part!
- I… try not to remember those dark years, Emperor. – Karg ran his thin, giant spider-like fingers over the table. – But I understand what you're saying – the Empire is still too young, and we're surrounded by historically established neighbors…
- Exactly! If we had been given more time for Helgan to catch up, Hera would rule the Empire, and I'd already be in the grave – it would all be much simpler! Breaking what has become Tradition is much harder!
And no bastard would dare raise the question of whether the Empire came at too high a price.
Visari clenched his teeth. He took the now cold cup of tea and drained it in one gulp:
- Alas – now we'll have to act according to circumstances…
Karg smiled wearily:
- When was it ever different? Huh, "Red"?
Two old soldiers, who once stormed the Protectorate Administration building, laughed loudly…
***
Space.
The ship "Normandy".
The soft glow of the stars could mesmerize someone unfamiliar with space. In fact, even an old space wolf couldn't remain indifferent to the sight of gas giants. "When stars stop inspiring you – you're already dead inside" – maybe this earthly saying was overly romantic and pompous, but it was true.
However, the people sitting in the pilot cabin of the Normandy were interested in slightly different stars…
- ABSO-LUTE POW-E-ER!!! – Joker was looking at the screen and then at Rynich's stone face. He, in turn, paused the playback and tried to understand what exactly the woman expected from him.
Jennifer Moro loved old films featuring space. Especially sci-fi ones. Moreover, the once sensational "Interstellar" was much less liked by the pilot than the absolutely implausible "Star Wars." Helgast learned all this during the time spent with the pilot.
For some reason, Jenkins was wary of the woman and tried to avoid crossing paths with her. So, between two evils – watching strange but funny movies or bickering over trifles with an annoying marine – Zmeigo chose the former.
- Very… cute? – The junior lieutenant decided it would be rude to leave such attention without some reaction. Moro snorted.
- Did I say something wrong?
- No, it's fine. It's just interesting to watch your reaction to something well known to me or anyone else in the Alliance. A fresh perspective from the outside, so to speak.
- Well… the movie is really strange. And even funny – it resembles some kind of children's story, only instead of wooden dolls and cardboard scenery – wooden actors and computer scenery…
Moro laughed:
- Wow, what an art connoisseur we have – "wooden actors"?
- "No-no, I'm more in love with you"…
- Okay, I agree, it's really dumb! But the story itself is interesting?
- I don't know. – The Helgast stretched in the chair, once again marveling at why the pilot was somehow scolding them. – Personally, I see the story of a person trying to stir a rotten sleepy swamp, but a bunch of terrorists and religious fanatics were stopping them, and in the end, they actually did. By the way, they could've invited that Turian for the sake of the experiment. We could compare our reactions…
- I suggested that! – Joker looked closely at some indicator on the digital panel. It seemed to sense the pilot's dissatisfied gaze and instantly slid left – finally settling almost at the center of the measurement scale. Moro gave the panel a condescending nod and continued:
- Alas – in response, I got a strong hit straight in the face: "You don't want to show me this movie!" with meaningful intonations.
- Oh…
- Yeah. I was out of reality for ten seconds…
- Probably some Jedi stuff. Well – it looks like the Alliance has something to be proud of. They won't quote what they don't like, right? – The Helgast shifted again in the chair, getting comfortable.
"No, seriously – are all those in the Alliance this spoiled?"
- Well – you're probably right. Although the Turians are quite a bunch – and it's quite possible that somewhere on Palaven in closed classes, military cadets watch Earth movies during lessons. Because "that's how it should be."
By the way… How's the culture on Helgan?
- What exactly interests you? – The junior lieutenant clarified.
- Everything! I have no idea what you listen to, read, watch. The infosphere just shows a few documentaries and a bunch of ads for mining equipment – if that's all your culture, I'm a bit creeped out.
- We are just very modest and don't want to show our superiority over the Alliance. – Rynich decided a little irony was quite appropriate. The girl pilot burst out laughing:
- Pfff… Yeah right! Guys, no offense – but sometimes I get the feeling that Helgasts are what Turians would look like as humans!
- By the way, not the worst characteristic, in my opinion. – Catching Moro's puzzled look, Rynich continued. – They're disciplined, able to get what they want, strong, united. They have a strong army and navy...- And their economy is also served by volus because a turian who knows how to do business is an extremely rare species listed in the registry of endangered species.
- You know, you always have to sacrifice something. – The helgast shrugged. – I wonder, who does this Nihlus Kryik answer to?
- The Citadel Council. He is also a SPECTRE!
- Isn't that a lot of power? I'm not talking about Kryik specifically, but the whole system in general. Or is the idea that once someone becomes a SPECTRE, they can no longer go down a slippery path?
- Who knows… - Joker thoughtfully drummed their fingers on the armrest. – But I looked into it – you can easily find information about how a particular SPECTRE used excessive force, according to public opinion. However, there have never been cases of actual collaboration with criminals. And that can't be hidden – that's too hot information! Any news agency would pay a fortune for it! I heard a theory that unreliable SPECTREs are taken care of internally.
Moro grimaced with a sinister smile and pulled their cap down over their eyes:
- IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN! Ha-ha-ha!!!
- Having fun? – Joker choked on air and blinked in surprise. The helgast who had been sitting in the chair a second ago was now standing rigidly "at attention" and "eyeing" Captain Anderson, who had decided to visit the pilot.
- Rynich, at ease! How long will this last!
- Sorry, force of habit… Pilot Moro allowed me to familiarize myself with some literary works. – Anderson looked at the screen and smirked:
- Joker...
- I'm not to blame. Almost... It's just that the association between his gear and Lord Vader was too strong – I couldn't resist.
- Let's say I'm flattered. But I'm still not giving you the helmet. – The helgast dismissed the pilot's next attempt to get their hands on government property.
From the first glance, Jennifer Moro developed an unhealthy interest in the helmet, and when they realized they wouldn't be able to buy a similar one anytime soon, they started asking Rynich, "Could he theoretically write off the helmet during a mission?"
The reasons for Zmeygo's interest were completely unclear.
- Rynich, want to stretch your legs on Eden Prime? – Anderson glanced at his watch. – We'll be arriving on Eden Prime soon – and you'll get to see one of the most beautiful human colonies and the pride of our entire race.
- With pleasure, sir! – The helgast brightened. But a second later, their mood plummeted.
- You'll arrive, prepare the cargo for transportation, and that's it… Besides you and Shepard, there will be Jenkins and Alenko. Kryik will oversee everything – after all, this isn't just any cargo... - Anderson grinned slyly.
- So we're not hauling tomatoes from there? – The pilot asked.
- No, Joker.
- Too bad. I would have loved that...
- We're transporting a Prothean beacon in good condition! – After admiring the drawn faces of the helgast and pilot, Anderson laughed.
- Yeah, and you should have seen Jenkins' face when he found out what he was in for! The guy looked like he'd explode from realizing how important the mission was. So, Rynich – prep your gear. You'll get ambient temperature data on the omnitool...
- Alright... - The helgast turned to the girl. – Shall we continue later?
- Uh-huh… Because as you watch, you get closer and closer to the most terrifying and twisted thing created by human minds in a greedy money-making attempt! – Moro's eyes widened. – Episodes numbered "seven" and onward!
***
Jenkins checked his gear. He bounced lightly in place, listening for any rattling from loose straps or carabiners, but everything was fine.
"Combat mission!"
Not exactly combat though. But a real mission, plus in the company of a SPECTRE – that's definitely not an ordinary case! Evacuating a Prothean beacon – it's not the First Contact War, but still very serious! And Shepard will no longer see him as a rookie, and Alenko will surely stop lecturing about the need to "always be alert"...
- Hey, athlete-jumper, how much longer are you? – A hoarse, squeaky voice cut through the silence of the hold. The engineer working a little off to the side flinched.A dark figure emerged from the shadows, so grim that just a glance at it made hands instinctively reach for weapons...
- What is that? – Jenkins blinked. The vision did not disappear.
- This is the standard armor of an imperial marine. – A creaky, mechanical voice somehow managed to convey the usual sarcastic tone of junior lieutenant Zmeygo Rynich. – Certainly, it has a number of drawbacks – for example, my butt is not visible to others in it, and it's impossible to show off my abs, but the advantages like protection outweigh all that.
The Helgast armor noticeably added to his width, making him slightly square. A thick helmet covered his head, the gas mask visors glinted ominously, and the mask itself resembled some kind of techno-sculpture, which according to the artist was supposed to resemble a skull.
A thick hose, wrapped in several layers of armored fabric, ran somewhere behind his back. The large plate on the stomach was clearly able to withstand a stray fragment or even a bullet fired from afar with mass effect weapons. Plus, it was loaded with additional equipment like a flashlight or two medical packs, which in theory provided extra protection – and judging by the extra "hump" on the back, the Helgast was carrying a high-class shield with additional power sources.
On the imperial's thigh was secured a large-caliber pistol called the "Executioner," and in his hands he held... It seems Shepard jokingly called this rifle a "crowbar launcher" – because it fires feathered shells with tungsten tips, and with a lucky shot can finish off an armored vehicle like a "MAKO."
The engineer who had been working off to the side whistled quietly.
Jenkins bent over laughing:
- You... You didn't bring a machine gun with you? And straight away a howitzer too?
- I have a few grenades. And a couple of blocks of explosives – trust me, that's enough. – The imperial didn't get the joke. – And a very sharp knife...
Jenkins was so amused he decided not to get distracted by another argument with the red-eyed one. Especially since he was now about to have the chance to admire the faces of Shepard and Alenko seeing this monster!
Chuckling, Leroy followed him into the elevator.
As they descended, the soldier kept laughing, drawing surprised glances from the Helgast. Meanwhile, the red-eyed one tilted his head in the gas mask in a bird-like way, amusing Jenkins even more with his awkwardness.
Finally, the elevator arrived at the hold.
Jenkins jumped out first and loudly announced:
- Ladies and gentlemen! The imperial stormtroopers have arrived! The enemies of the Empire will be crushed! – And bumped into the concerned looks of the marines and Captain Anderson present there.
A passing Helgast remarked:
- Of course they will. How else?
Then he asked:
- Something wrong?
- The operation plan is changing. – Anderson shifted his gaze to the still smiling Jenkins, which made him blush. – The colony is under attack by an unknown enemy. There are casualties among the colonists. Apparently, this Beacon is needed not only by the Citadel and the Alliance...
Leroy froze in amazement for a second.
"Looks like things will be harder than we thought at first..."
- Je-e-nkins... – The Helgast hissed mockingly. – Where did all your playful mood go? Or are you afraid your latex suit might fail you?
- A-hem-hem! – The Helgast quickly turned towards Shepard's boot tapping meaningfully on the floor.
- Oh... Well – I wasn't talking about you, captain. You, on the contrary – it suits you very well, beautifully... Highlights... m-m-m...
The Helgast made a gesture as if to show exactly what he thought the suit highlighted, froze like a statue, then bashfully said:
- I take that back.
Alenko, standing a little aside, quietly laughed. And the Citadel SPECTRE Nihlus Kryik, silently observing the scene, said nothing. Although – who knows what a SPECTRE thinks about?