New situation injects came one after another. The ship's captain and executive officer moved through the ship like shadows, carefully observing the crew's actions.
From the outside, it wasn't apparent that a drill of such scale was being conducted inside the ship—Jeff Moreau and his partner received a categorical command order to maintain the ship's prior course and speed.
But inside the Normandy, things grew hot in the literal sense: in many compartments, a depressurization mode activated. Crew members were forced to stay constantly ready for rapid transitions from one set of compartments to another.
No allowances were made for the fact that in depressurized compartments—separated from pressurized ones by bluish "lenses" of emergency containment fields—zero gravity reigned. Speed. Quality. Completeness. Correctness.
In three compartments, fires of different sizes sprang up хаотично—from simple wiring ignition to quite powerful, destructive explosions. Although Captain Anderson did not authorize open flame use in a number of compartments, it was difficult enough to predict when and where the next fire would break out, and how big it would grow.
The drill lasted exactly forty minutes. Finally, lines crawled across the crew's helmet displays, informing them that the drill was complete. The ship's siren gave a short purr, signaling the simulation mode was disengaged. The crew quickly and quietly returned to stations under the normal flight roster.
The damage-control party eliminated the aftermath of the fires, bringing the compartments designated for the blazes back to normal condition.
Normal lighting came back on, and the consoles that had been powered down for the drill came back online.
Captain Anderson, entering his cabin, announced the overall results of the drill over shipwide comm.
Everyone on the Normandy got it. Without the slightest exception.
The crew's omni-tools received files with a full analysis of each officer's, NCO's, petty officer's, and private's actions, a complete time log of events, as well as the possible and the real consequences of the mistakes and shortcomings committed.
"The first drill showed, colleagues, that the crew is ready for real combat operations at a 'mediocre' level," Captain Anderson said over the ship's broadcast. "The drill will be made harder and repeated soon." With that, Anderson cut the shipwide broadcast and looked at Shepard, seated beside him. "It's a good thing Nihlus Kryik didn't try to come out of his cabin," he fell silent for a few seconds out of habit. "All right, just as an aside. What worries me more is who's going to give us three quiet days for drills."
"We've got only a bit more than a day left before we'll have to fight, sir," Shepard replied. "And honestly, I expected exactly this result. Exactly 'mediocre.' Good that it wasn't 'bad.'" Shepard slowly turned his head, scanning the captain's cabin. "At the very least, we now have a full complement of specialists who've more or less settled into their duties. That lets us hope. Though hope against a ship like that"—he flicked a glance at the "shrimp" shimmering on the nearest wall display above the captain's desk—"is too weak a foundation for victory."
"Now everyone on the Normandy will be on edge," Anderson said thoughtfully.
"I don't think we'll have the option of relaxing for long anymore, Commander," Shepard said. "I don't believe a ship like that is alone. The archaeology database proves with certainty: there are at least several dozen ships like it. The total lifespan of formations of those ships, judging by the age of the images, is hard to imagine at all: over thirty million years. There's an image forty million years old. For humanity, that's an inconceivable number."
"For most sentient organic races we Earthborn know in the explored part of the Milky Way, too," the cabin's owner said. "At best, two or three million years. But not thirty. Not forty." Anderson gave a short nod, agreeing with his XO. "Do you think we'll need support from Earth's fleets?"
"No, Commander. Any movement of our fleets right now will draw unhealthy, unnecessary attention to Eden Prime. It will provoke that ship into active action. Against both the planet and the fleets. I don't believe we can't complete our mission to the maximum. One ship against one ship, with support from the planet's infrastructure—that's fair. A fleet against one ship, even one that strong, is a sign of weakness and immaturity," Shepard remarked with conviction. "We can't give the Citadel races grounds to keep treating us as a 'child' race."
"If only we knew why that ship came to Eden Prime," Anderson said.
"Whatever it came for, its appearance near the planet can be confidently classified as an invasion. Even without taking position at the relay, without conducting full long-range hardware reconnaissance, without activating the 'Forecast' suite in combat mode, one can be sure: the alien ship came for something extremely valuable and important. Nothing comes to mind besides the Prothean beacon, Commander," Shepard admitted honestly. "If only we knew why it needs it."
"We'll find out, Captain." Anderson brought up additional displays. "For now, let's think together about how to complicate the next drill. I think we should schedule it for five thirty p.m. We'll run the third drill at nine thirty p.m. At eleven p.m. the ship will take station near the relay. The duty shifts will start working with real data obtained during passive long-range hardware reconnaissance. To be honest, I'm waiting myself to see what the frigate's sensors 'dig up.' Even now I can see it—we won't avoid a firefight with that ship." Anderson glanced at the shimmering "shrimp," then looked back to his XO.
"Certain of it, Commander," Shepard agreed, activating his omni-tool. The two senior officers began building the scenario for the next drill.
At five thirty p.m., the ship's quiet was torn apart by the bells of general quarters. This time the alert was not damage-control—it was combat.
The frigate's virtual intelligence was running at full load, throwing every kind of nasty trick at the crew working consoles and cutting decision and execution time to the absolute minimum.
In this drill, Anderson and Shepard participated on equal footing with the entire crew. The conditions and parameters changed as the drill ran. The ship's VI followed only the general plan; otherwise, it was free in choosing action variants.
At seven o'clock, a short purr of the siren marked the end of the drill. Helmet seals clicked open. The bloody emergency red lighting was replaced by normal yellow-white.
Fifteen minutes after the siren, the VI's analysis of the drill was posted to the wall displays. The information also reached the crew's omni-tools.
"Not much better," Anderson said, meeting Shepard again in his cabin. "Now I see the third drill is simply necessary."
"Commander, permission to report," came the senior gunner's voice. "Zero-class accuracy in the ship's gunnery system settings has been achieved and locked in."
"Acknowledged. Prepare the gunnery systems for effective fire," Anderson ordered. "Cut time-to-combat readiness to the minimum. Even a second will be too great a luxury for us. Proceed."
"Aye, sir," the senior gunner replied and cut the channel.
"Planning both an attack and a finishing strike?" Anderson asked after reviewing the data transmitted from the gunnery consoles on his omni-tool.
"Yes, Commander. If the planet's infrastructure influence—including the weather control stations and the equipment of the monorails and spaceports—works, then we'll have to do everything to keep that ship from being able to resist."
"And indoctrination?" Anderson asked.
"Commander," Shepard replied. "No paper castles. But after such a coordinated complex impact, in my view there can be no talk of quick indoctrination: the 'shrimp' simply won't have enough energy for the pulse. As for the rest, the landing team under my command will handle it. A strike from the planet's energy infrastructure, a strike from Eden's climate installations, a strike from the reconnaissance frigate. Three strikes combined should render that monster nonfunctional for a long enough time. I allow that the ship itself may survive such a coordinated strike. But will it be more than a hull…"
"I can see something is bothering you, Captain," Anderson threw his XO a careful look. "Something you don't want to allow even as a hypothesis."
"Commander, I don't know how to put it precisely," the XO said. "I want very much to believe that after we collide with this ship we won't have problems like this again. And I can't. It doesn't feel like this will be an isolated case. A ship like that appeared in the galaxy when any sentient race capable of leaving a clear image of it on some durable medium faced an Apocalypse. Which means: the ship didn't use its weaponry to the fullest. It didn't immediately wipe out sentient—mostly, I think, organic—life. It… played with it. Cat and mouse, maybe. It took pride in its power, its invulnerability, its strength, its might. It wore them down. It punished them," Shepard said thoughtfully but clearly.
"Punished them for what?" the XO asked himself aloud after a short pause. "I don't know. I don't understand. Why, on the planets where descendants later found such images, did nothing else testify to these ships? Where are all the locals—sentient and otherwise? I know archaeologists aren't omnipotent. But any digs showed an almost complete lack of remains. Does that mean such a ship wasn't alone? Does that mean it came with smaller ships? Ships with other capabilities, other functions? I don't know. Something tells me this ship is the beginning of a terrifying period in the Milky Way's history. And the fact that it moved toward our human-colonized planet… does it mean we humans end up in the front ranks to be destroyed?"
There was no tension or worry in Shepard's voice—it was even—but Anderson felt his XO wasn't speaking only from analysis. He was speaking from the heart.
"I'm not ready to say this is a pure machine driven by code, Commander," Shepard continued. "And I'm also not ready to claim it's a living creature. I'm forced to assume: to defeat a creation of an unknown intelligence like that, we'll have to combine the power of sentient organic and sentient synthetic life. I understand that no current Milky Way race will agree to full-scale synthesis. Maybe we can manage with coexistence, partnership, alliance? But relying only on organic life and its capacity to defeat a horde of ships like that… I have no feeling this ship is the only one—or that there are few of them, Commander."
Shepard saw Anderson listening closely and was satisfied by that attention—and, above all, by the understanding behind it. It was good when the ship's commander was a person equal to the XO in training level and profile.
"Until we can get an artificial intelligence as an ally, we'll have to run at operating modes beyond organic limits. And there's another problem, Commander." Shepard pointed at the relay image already present on the navigation display. "We humans are a young race by the galaxy's standards. And we… with ease worthy of better use, have already latched onto the mass relays. And accordingly, we've almost completely stopped developing drives and systems that allow us to do without these 'catapults.' If not for the relay—if not for the need to move through the tunnel it punches—then we could apply most of the reconnaissance methods known to humanity. But the distances between systems… they're enormous for our current capabilities."
Shepard paused. Anderson didn't rush him.
"It's clear that in a year Eden Prime could very well be nothing but a bare rocky lump, stripped of atmosphere and nearly all of its current infrastructure," the XO said. "Only a year—and everything can change radically. For the worse for us sentient organics. And for some reason I know we may not have that year. Maybe not even a month. Not even ten days. If tomorrow we don't appear at the planet… that ship will carry out its function. And I have no doubt it will leave the planet. Loudly and very painfully. Painfully for us organics. It will leave because it's sure we have nothing substantial to oppose it. For us sentient organics of the galaxy, I'm sure, in just a few hours… the information about the 'shrimp' and what it's done… will be a shock to every single member of our crew without exception. By my calculations, only a few hours remain until this 'shrimp' enters the range of the Eden system's long-range scanners."
Shepard did not voice the standard line expressing regret about plans that could not be realized.
"If we ignore many things, then by the standard scenario the first thing that ship will do is 'cut' all long-range communications. The planet won't be able to call for help. The people of Eden will call. But no one will hear them. I assume this monster has a powerful system filtering information traffic. From the outside, everything will look normal. But any hint of a call for help, any information about what happened, will be tracked by the Reaper beyond any doubt—and blocked. The planet has no latest military comm centers, no developed military infrastructure. I don't consider that a reason to relax. Even systems like Mars's anti-space defense, with its truly cyclopean guns— even they won't be able to oppose much to this 'shrimp.'"
"Do you think this ship will be more vulnerable after it lands?" Anderson asked, reviewing relevant data on his omni-tool.
"Large ships of most sentient organic races I know generally can't perform standard landings on planets—for many different reasons. On any planets that are possible and acceptable," Shepard уточнил. "Except in a catastrophe. But then it's not a standard landing. It's a crash. Keeping a Reaper-type ship like that in immediate takeoff posture will, I dare assume, consume a significant portion of onboard energy. If you imagine a chain: the first link is the ship landing on the planet; the second is no need for the ship to move across the planet; the third is completing a short-term mission by the ship's landing teams; the fourth is the locals' inability to oppose anything substantial to either the ship or its landing forces. In the end," the XO emphasized, "it's clear that even a VI at our current level—or a minimal AI—won't hold shields at maximum. Energy will be required for the constant, banal stabilization of the ship's position in space."