I was the one who went to meet the guests. The Lieutenant took a seat in the meeting room and is preparing herself mentally in the company of guards. And after our friendly chat, she needs to tidy herself up, change, and hide the claw cuts on her neck. Her own fault.
The most unpleasant thing for me was that Parangosky confirmed her orders. With an extremely vengeful smirk. It's a shame; one of the platforms will be occupied with who-knows-what. I have enough other active platforms, but it's still unpleasant.
I'll get back at the Lieutenant for this. The lady decided that since she was transferred to the UNSC Apollo, she can order whatever she pleases. We'll see. Although I won't say I didn't expect something like this; the question was "when," not "if." This woman's reaction… is within expectations. Xenophobia exists in humans; there are reasons for it. Sooner or later, I would have run into someone who wasn't a scientist or a commander who had seen it all, or even a curious teenage girl, but real adult xenophobes. For whom the avatar's appearance is a trigger. Well, it happened now.
That's why I won't be sent to official events; the people would have hysterics. Like the colony officers who saw me disembarking from the shuttle. The arriving governor and defense head… they were contorted. They stepped out of the shuttle, showed their passes to the soldier, turned in my direction, and they visibly recoiled. I didn't bother portraying emotions. I have enough with the new "boss."
"Follow me; the Lieutenant is waiting for us."
And here, the defense head was clearly contorted; he's a major. He looked at me and squeezed out:
"I assumed the commander would meet with us."
I allowed myself to lower the scarf and grin widely with all my triangular teeth, which made the governor turn slightly pale. I can understand him: a pale face, a burning brunette, and yellow eyes with vertical black pupils. Plus a somewhat too wide, non-human shark-like grin. It works!
"You absolutely do not want the commander to pay attention to you. Believe my experience. And I'm not talking about the Lieutenant."
The governor, an elderly grey-haired man, though holding himself steady, remarked:
"Then what is the reason for the summons by command code? It is impolite."
More than that, it's almost a direct insult, made intentionally. Which the governor knows—
all those involved, yet they cannot voice their protest. Summoning superiors for a report is one thing. But when it turns out that instead of the brass, the report will be received by some "lousy little lieutenant"...
And one who will clearly be demanding things, hiding behind administrative authority—it's a spit in the soul and a direct indication of your place in the hierarchy. If I didn't have the "ONI" patch on my shoulder, they might have started complaining or asserting their rights. As it is, if they are fuming, they do so silently and to themselves. Both comrades quickly composed themselves; they glance at me and the convoy, but they keep their faces straight. They walk, seething, but in silence.
"You shouldn't worry; the UNSC Apollo and its escort will remain here for some time. If you make the right impression, you might receive reinforcements. I can't promise new ships, but it's better than nothing."
The Major-Commander grew interested.
"And who decides that, Agent?"
I swept my gaze over him, making the man tense up.
"Command, of course. We are talking about ONI. A report will be formed based on the results of the investigation, and based on that, Command will decide what comes next."
Judging by how they relaxed, they took the hint. The social module worked exactly as intended. And I didn't lie; I just didn't specify exactly how the report is formed. We've already ripped if not everything, then a great deal from their network. Several more involved parties will be seized by the landing force currently touching down on the planet. The Governor actually started to smile.
"This undoubtedly requires deep research and a balanced decision, Agent. Situations, especially here on the periphery, can be very complex. We will provide you with all necessary assistance."
And he's staring from behind. Yet not so long ago, he was grimacing. Tsk.
"I believe we will find an acceptable solution, Governor. This way, please," I said, letting the pair inside.
I had no doubt whatsoever that the solution would be acceptable to me. What they are discussing with the Lieutenant in there also concerns me approximately not at all. The room itself: a standard briefing room for officers. Table, chairs, a screen. Everything as usual.
What is interesting, however, is the special forces group that has infiltrated the weapons depot, pinned the guards face-down on the floor, and is gutting the crates. Margaret Parangosky might have handed these negotiations over to the Lieutenant and me, but she has no intention of sticking around for the next month waiting for everyone to finish talking. So, the locals are getting a visual lesson in what a landing force driven mad by training looks like.
They arrived on black D77 Pelicans with the word "BREAD" painted on them. Don't ask; I don't know.
They disembarked, laid the surprised guards on the ground, loaded up the officers, and are searching the warehouses for prohibited or unregistered cargo.
Obvious leads: a ship that shouldn't be here, weapons without markings in the invoices, a beacon in the warehouse. Whether these two walk out of here depends on what the teams find on the surface. And there is plenty to find. They found the beacon; it hadn't even been unpacked. They just put it in the warehouse, locked it, and forgot about it. There were no requests regarding the equipment, no attempts to dismantle it, and diagnostics revealed no deviations. The beacon is just lying there, unwanted by anyone.
"The beacon, Governor," the Lieutenant on board the UNSC Apollo asked in the meantime, while I stood behind her, "Command is asking questions: why was the installation of the beacon not carried out?"
The man smiled.
"As I have already said, the problem is that a trusted crew and a sufficiently fast and stealthy ship are simply unavailable. The beacon is to be installed in a neighboring system. It is quite far and dangerous, and we already have too few ships to take risks. We cannot fulfill an ONI mission without proper preparation. We won't be forgiven for a failure; your Command punishes quite harshly for that. I think you understand."
The girl frowned at this.
"Is there really nothing at all? We aren't talking about any particularly complex work. The installation is very simple, as it was explained to me. Almost any ship could have done it, just by making a small detour. Four days—you wouldn't even need to go into stasis."
The Commander replied with a condescending smile.
"Lady, we are talking about maintaining secrecy. Even if we exclude the Covenant, the very fact of ONI operations would have attracted unnecessary attention. We had to ensure that no one would find out. Not about the task, nor the location where the beacon was offloaded."
Boring. If the check were purely formal, this might have worked. If one focused only on explanations. But not when your network is being gutted by AIs and your warehouses are being gutted by a landing force—excuses don't work. Ships from the escort group flew somewhere, and for a week at that. And after that, the operation to purchase weapons took place. Two weeks ago.
Speaking of weapons. The landing force reached the armories, neutralized the guards, and is currently prying open the crates. Let's see... There's the answer as to why they bought the weapons but not the ammunition. Prothean weapons—their Assault Rifles and Submachine Guns. Their weapons require cooling modules, not ammunition created from a tungsten slug by mass fields. Good weapons against targets lacking shields, low dependence on ammunition, which means an overconsumption of rounds won't be as noticeable if something happens. Which makes the weapons suitable for illegal operations among other things.
So it turns out I'm praising Element Zero-based weapons; they have their own advantages. Not against the Covenant, but against Humans, definitely.
All would be well, but what exactly did they sell to buy the weapons? I don't think the guests are interested in local currency. And in the negotiation room, it's more of the same.
"Lieutenant, you must understand! We must protect our own interests! You of all people should understand—with the resources the UNSC left us, we won't fend off the rebels, let alone the Covenant. Without ships, without weapons. On outdated equipment. In your opinion, should we ignore our duty to protect the population and not seek opportunities to defend ourselves?"
It wasn't that the Lieutenant was ready with an answer.
"Protecting the colony is important, but weapons purchases are serious. There's a reason weapons circulation is controlled; the rebels would be very happy with a free market for weapons and armor. A violation is unacceptable!"
The men nodded furiously, as if they had seen the light.
"Of course it's serious, Lieutenant!" the Commander supported her, "One cannot take defense lightly, especially now! You heard about that last terrorist attack, didn't you? When the rebels almost dropped a chemical transport on the city! If it weren't for our ONI! It's a tragedy!"
"I was there," the girl said, blushing slightly, "and I participated in that operation. We managed."
The delight was almost genuine. Almost!
"You see! Now imagine something like that on our colony! A small one, deriving income from agriculture! Such an incident would simply bury our entire potential for decades, if not forever! And that's even excluding the casualties. The entire settlement project would simply be destroyed without any Covenant!"
The main thing is not to remember that the rebels don't bomb such worlds; they use them to recruit. The periphery, weak security, and the siphoning of resources for the center. There are plenty of disgruntled people. The war with the Covenant has only exacerbated all this, and recruits are flowing to the rebels in a river. The military often doesn't think about such things and acts crudely. And then they wonder where the rebels get ships and weapons, when frigates like these are often crewed by locals, even bypassing the rules.
No, in theory, they are supposed to be rotated; in practice, everything valuable in terms of combat potential has already been taken, and if the planet has no strategic production, you're on your own. However you can manage. Furthermore, such a periphery is an excellent place of exile for disgraced command staff, which adds no love for the center. The Major is exactly one of those out of favor. A classic situation: what could go right?
And then ONI runs around plugging holes and slapping the hands of saboteurs. Like now.
Meanwhile, the next group arrived at the office complex serving as the colony administration, spaceport, and capital. If there is anything to find, it is located right here. They were able to disable the automated AA defenses remotely, so the Pelicans arrived without unnecessary noise. In the office, the landing group was suddenly attacked. It all started like the previous times. Landing from different sides. On the roof, at the main and back entrances with support from the Pelicans' weapons. First the landing force, then the technicians. So they wouldn't have time to arm themselves, attack, or erase everything valuable. A Pelican hovered over the roof of the building when the warning system wailed.
"We are under attack! Missile! Another one!"
The pilot threw the craft aside, and the missile passed by. The second one, however, hit the partially deployed craft, blowing apart the front engine block.
The Pelican spun in place, but the remaining three engine blocks were enough to set down fairly level behind the building, dragging a line across the roof. The troopers immediately went prone, searching for the enemy. The fire was coming from the building opposite. A Rocket Launcher, standard army, twin-shot. The rocketeer would be ready for battle within ten seconds once he replaced the launch block. Two shooters moved into the rear of the troopers on the roof, having come up the stairs. But the troopers, controlling that direction as well, met them with a burst of automatic fire, and two more fell onto the roof. These people don't even have proper armor. But they have a Rocket Launcher.
The two other Pelicans began to gain altitude with a jolt, raking the buildings with machine guns and missiles, taking advantage of the fact that these transports are quite maneuverable in three dimensions and have an excellent targeting complex. The rocketeer was blown away; the rest of the enemies went to ground, those who survived. Unexpectedly, almost half of the troopers died in a matter of seconds, as fire was opened on them from the building they were positioned around as well. And on the cameras—Citadel weapons; the holes in the bodies are small, they hit accurately. Were they trained, or was it the enemy?
The return fire from the transports silenced them too. But I'm not sure the targets were destroyed. Reinforcements are needed. A few more fallen soldiers went silent until the superior equipment and armor took the upper hand. After that, the soldiers, no longer trying to be polite, simply went inside, clearing anyone with a knife or a firearm in their hands.
The clerks trying to do something on the computers got it too. They were kicked in the kidneys and sent under arrest. Just in case. The infantry requested reinforcements, ready to clear the neighboring buildings and to pick up the wounded. The perimeter was more or less cleared; Ajax and I changed the target designation for the AA system so it would let the landing transports through.
At the same time, Lieutenant Fisher's patience began to run out. Especially when I relayed to her over the comms what they found below. The girl is clearly irritated that my clearance is higher than hers, but she endures it. Though she is angry.
"Don't you want to start talking, Governor? A full confession is your chance."
I forwarded her the data from the warehouse search, and the girl's mood soured completely. The man didn't take the hint.
"Gods be with you, what are you talking about?"
Lieutenant Fisher exhaled heavily.
"Fine, I understand you. What am I talking about? For example, about where unmarked weapons based on different operating principles came from in your warehouses, without invoices. And why your people are shooting at ONI soldiers in the line of duty. Who gave the order?"
Both guests choked and stopped smiling.
"You decided to lure us out to get to the contents of the warehouses?"
The Lieutenant smirked unpleasantly.
"I ordered it to be done to get answers. Where? Did you get? Weapons? On Mass Effect??? Answer!"
The Governor looked at the girl with contempt. He was not impressed.
"If you protected us as well as you talk, Lieutenant, this wouldn't have happened. I am protecting my people, who, I take it, are not all alive anymore, right? I am not surprised."
The girl brushed it off.
"They shouldn't resist an Intelligence arrest. If they are alive. And especially not shoot at honest soldiers carrying out orders."
The Captain sighed, looking at all this.
"Calm down, both of you. This brat doesn't decide anything here," and ignoring her indignation, he continued, looking now at me, "Your badge. Ethan might not have noticed, but I know that name. Parangosky. Are you commanding this circus?"
I spread my hands.
"No. I am only a humble Agent without command authority. But the answer to her question interests me as well."
The man spread his hands.
"Well then, listen. You brought us to this yourselves. You removed the modern ships; the rotation became unstable. Supply is enough to maintain the current level, but we have no production for expansion. And the military doesn't allocate resources—'not allowed,' 'no free funds.' We haven't received a new engine for our Frigate for five years, even though the replacement act was sent on time. Replacements are practically rejects, those who aren't missed. We had to solve the problems on our own."
The Lieutenant threw out mockingly.
"By a deal with xenos. What a pity," and she grimaced in disgust, "That changes nothing."
The man ignored her, continuing his monologue.
"Yes, we met them when we were going to deliver the beacon to the site. They did what we haven't received from Command for years. They sold us resources. Medicine, equipment. Weapons for defense. Trade contacts. Polite and generous. Pay and get everything you need quickly and of good quality. Many have something to learn from them, you know? And both I and the counter-intelligence officer in the guard's place ignored the Lieutenant."
I asked.
"What did you give them? This is your chance."
The man gave a bitter smile.
"Nothing prohibited, truly. Publicly available history textbooks, samples of infinitely outdated technology. I told their representative that the tech was only for the scrap heap, but it suited them. A broken engine from a Frigate. It was already quietly rusting in the warehouse without maintenance for years anyway. Junk, useless to the colony, but for which we bought new equipment that made everyone's life much better. According to forecasts, the colony will break even in production this year, by fifteen percent. Can you imagine? For the first time in these years. You cannot deny this. We can close all debts and protect our people."
A loud bang rang out. It was the Lieutenant jumping up in a rage, slamming the table, and barking.
"Traitor! Don't you realize you handed information about Humanity to xenos?"
In the Vice Admiral's cabin.
"Should I stop this?" I asked, already realizing where everything was going. Parangosky was momentarily distracted from the inventory of weapons from the warehouse. There's a flood of Mass Effect rifles there. Clearly cheap stampings, they overheat instantly, but there are many. It's enough for a decent army for the local militia, nearly fifty thousand pieces. Plus tungsten bars for all these weapons—take them and use them.
Agricultural equipment, a flying car for the Governor personally. And yet, it doesn't add up. I see holes in this picture. Any other group could have handled all this, under coordination from the UNSC Apollo. But we are here in person. Why? Finally, the Vice Admiral replied:
"No. Technically, she is within her rights. This is her investigation as a competent officer. If she loses part of the information because she executed a witness or the accused," the woman shrugged, continuing to read, "she is incompetent."
"Yes, Vice Admiral."
Briefing room, avatar.
The man doesn't even hide his disgust.
"I did everything necessary for my world, Lieutenant. And I would do it again. She," a poke at me, "might not look like a Human, but at least she is well-bred enough to listen and draw conclusions. You, on the other hand..."
But my boss was too worked up.
"Silence! You are guilty of embezzlement. Corruption and betrayal of Humanity. Arming rebel detachments with unregistered weapons. Creating a private army. Weakening the combat capability of the naval group by selling ship equipment. Using illegal equipment. Sympathy for the rebels. Execute."
Ambitions. I feel no sympathy for these people, nor for the Lieutenant. All of them are doing some serious crap. But an order is an order. The Magnum from my belt was in my hand and instantly aimed at the Captain's chest.
He looked at my indifferent face with a slight smile and smiled slightly as the bullet pierced his chest. A second, control shot to the head. The Lieutenant herself shot the Governor. She looked at me, at the corpse, and nodded to herself.
"Maybe there is a spine in you; maybe you are still Human. We'll see. Follow me. I intend to finish this investigation below."
It doesn't add up. There is clearly some plan of the Vice Admiral's here. But if there are xenos here, this could be an attempted seizure. Or not a seizure. Disinformation? Provocation? A trap? Especially since something happened during the flight.
***
Two days ago. Cruiser UNSC Apollo. Hangar 2.
Ship hangars are very large and convenient places. A mass of space, hundreds of meters, in which a test zone for weapons can be placed. Space for a dozen Pelicans, an interceptor, or a shuttle. On the lower level, equipment for loading or more aviation can be placed. When there is no battle stations alert, the hangar is often used as a parade ground where you can run, drill, and race a M12 Warthog. And even a tank.
Today, while the ship flies through the blackness of Slipspace, many have gathered here. From Command, First Officer Mathers; Old Man Marcus from the ship's technical group; and Vice Admiral Parangosky via hologram. She requested to be connected to the projector sphere, since I have many of them anyway.
From the scientists, I am there as an avatar, the local scientific group, Marcus's technicians, my Batarians, and a dozen Geth. The latter were taken under a strict requirement not to connect to anything without permission, under the threat of an order for the immediate destruction of the platforms and the quantum beacon. They agreed.
All for the sake of demonstrating new armaments. The first energy weapon of Human production, for the record.
And some developments on Element Zero. Debaltsev, who works with the Boundless Will, also has results, but we have completely new developments on the current base, not reverse-engineering. The First Officer looked us over, looked at the hologram of the boss, and remarked:
"It seems everyone is here. Begin, gentlemen."
The head of the UNSC Apollo scientific group, snatched from Debaltsev, Professor Magnusson, immediately straightened up:
"Thank you. We have conducted some tests of our equipment using Element Zero. And, using the principle..."
"Halt! Attention!" the Vice Admiral barked in a commanding tone, making everyone snap to, "Speak clearly. If you can't, find someone who can. Khaela! Explain what he is unable to."
I chuckled from under my scarf.
"Yes, Vice Admiral."
Magnusson snorted, looked at me and at the boss.
"I do not require a prompter. Thank you. The point is that plasma is an ionized gas; it has mass. And Element Zero causes gravitational distortions even with a small amount of energy, which makes something like Biotics possible. Even if your Batarian technicians don't know everything, the general principles of working with Element Zero are known to them. Which allowed us to create a stable container for plasma. And in the future, for antimatter in a plasma state, colleagues."
Marcus immediately perked up.
"Plasma weapons? Antimatter?"
The Doctor grimaced.
"A container. It can be used for more than just weapons. Production, vehicle engines. Experimental technologies. Antimatter too, but I wouldn't risk producing it on board. Tests in a safe and remote laboratory are needed. Convert it to a plasma state and it can be stored too. Or create extremely, extremely powerful warheads. Or an antimatter energy source—ship reactors for our energy weapons, if you will. Wide application, definitely."
Parangosky looked at the avatar with mockery.
"It seems someone claimed that Element Zero-based technologies were unpromising."
The Doctor apparently didn't realize she wasn't talking about him. Or he decided to intervene.
"Quite right. The author of the statement is absolutely correct. But as patches and temporary solutions to achieve miniaturization, this substance performs its function. And performs it excellently! Until we get a technological base at least half as compact. In time, that will happen. But for now, we'll make do with Element Zero."
Parangosky nodded to herself.
"I see. Continue."
The Doctor exhaled in irritation.
"I was just about to. We have assembled a plasma generator. A ship's reactor can generate plasma after some modernization, charging weapons and vehicle engines. Unfortunately, only prototypes for now, but they are working." He pointed to a block the size of a battery.
"A standard plasma cell; it will fit a M12 Warthog or a stationary gun. We were able to create a plasma mortar that can be installed in the bed of a cargo modification of the M12 Warthog, but Mr. Marcus is strongly against holes in his deck from plasma balls."
"You should make your weapon more accurate so it destroys the targets, not the deck around them," the engineer commented indignantly.
That's true; our cannon is somewhat crooked for such a mobile vehicle as the M12 Warthog. But the multiple launch rocket system is promising. Hook up several storage units and you can fire a burst of six volleys, then drive away to cool down. Everything is much faster than a Covenant tank.
"But!" I cut in, "we have something to show. A compact combi-plasma complex. A laser as a guide, a plasma globule for the target. Dual impact."
A scarlet beam struck the target on command, after which a blue drop raced along it into the target. A container ejected from the device, which was the size of a Rocket Launcher, and the cooling system hissed.
"As you can see, it's compact enough for a pair of infantrymen or a Spartan to work with this weapon," Magnusson commented, looking at the satisfied reaction of the military, "Of course, this is only a prototype, and we need more Element Zero for the project... Khaela, let's show the missiles."
I approached the missiles, which were sized appropriately for a Pelican or an interceptor. Magnusson nodded, giving permission. I ran my fingers over the casing, emphasizing the device.
"So. Our missile, shaped charge. As the Doc said, it's essentially a normal missile with a small amount of Element Zero. A gravitational vortex prevents the energy from spreading wherever it wants. Watch."
A projectile tore away from a missile pod removed from a Pelican. Striking a burnt-out tank used as a target, the missile immediately burned a hole in it, and jets of flame struck out of all the openings of the removed equipment. The hull, glowing white-hot, began to sag into itself as a fire crew rushed toward the vehicle under the sound of an alarm. The tank is definitely destroyed along with everything inside.
"As you can see, the energy is transferred exactly to the target, practically without dissipating in space. The gravitational vortex of the Element Zero makes the explosion extremely localized, and therefore energy losses are minimal. As is the collateral damage, but for vehicles, it's even more dangerous that way. All the energy goes into the target. Questions?"
Mathers clarified.
"Sounds and looks powerful. The missiles are good, but what about shields?"
Magnusson smirked.
"Not bad, First Officer. The concentration of energy pierces shields quite effectively. Но not perfectly. We tried to bypass the problem, and in the end, this happened," the scientist pointed to the elephant in the room.
More precisely, at a fifty-meter cylinder surrounded by four smaller ones, with two clearly facing one way and two the other. Unpainted, with visible welding marks and seams.
"And?" the Vice Admiral asked, "what is this creation of engineering genius?"
I raised my hand and, receiving two nods, stepped forward.
"This is the SSGraPT. Superluminal Gravitational-Plasma Torpedo. It happened by accident, actually. We were trying to understand how a mass core works and fit it into our physics. It worked... with difficulty. The core seems to multiply some physical variables manifold."
"For example?" Mathers specified, "don't fly off into scientific wilds, Agent."
I chuckled.
"Citadel ships accelerate to 15 light-years a day. At the same time, their engines are better than our sub-light ones, but not by much. They can't possibly give such acceleration. But a Mass Effect field creates an anomaly that doesn't drag against normal space and increases whatever you need by fifty. It can be more or less, depending on the engine and the mass core. The speed of light, the acceleration of your engines. Everything. At the same time, technically, the hull doesn't experience great loads, as everything is normal within the anomaly—time passes as it should, acceleration doesn't smear the ship and crew. It's about the anomaly itself. And we thought, what if a ship at such speed is used as a torpedo. It remains in real space, after all."
I pointed to the Batarian engineer. He was embarrassed but took a step forward.
"Ramming, as usual. But the compensation system will try to stop the ship in advance, or the side of the target ship will also end up in the anomaly. As a result, both objects will interact as if there were no acceleration. Even if the target ship is much larger than the ram and only a small part of it falls into the anomaly. It's strange; we didn't pay attention to it, but it works. It has always worked."
I nodded.
"We had a brainstorm. The Batarians proposed the rocket design; the Geth and I calculated the ejection system for the mass core and the rockets in the opposite direction. So that the anomaly in the process of dampening wouldn't interfere with the strike. Magnusson suggested adding grapeshot and a tank of plasma. And a space compensator as a secondary system for dampening the core. We took the core and engines from a Geth Frigate. Magnusson calculated the correct operating mode for the core so that the force field simply couldn't stop the ship because of its superluminal speed. A fragment of Mendicant Bias helped with the formulas. Marcus and his boys with the assembly and installation of the stabilizer from a Shaw-Fujikawa engine. Here is the result."
Now they are looking at the missile with undisguised interest.
"And what can it do?" Marcus asked.
"In theory, if the synthetic part of the group during that orgy (and there was no jacuzzi with sacred machine oil and incense from internal combustion engines, Marcus. You made it all up; you need to drink less) calculated everything correctly, then the core will be ejected in the opposite direction halfway through. For this, half of the engines are facing the wrong way. Of course, this will lead to the destruction of the ejected part of the hull and requires a mass core from a Cruiser, albeit a small one. Plus, the stabilizer will disrupt the Mass Effect field to bring the laws of physics back to normal, which will also be... not good for the core, we checked. But the torn grapeshot at superluminal speed will inflict such damage that no one will find it funny. And then, into what's left, the mass core and the plasma tank will slam in. Just to be sure. The face will be ripped off anything, we think."
This caused laughter from the entire scientific group. Allowing everyone to finish laughing, I additionally explained:
"Upon collision with a target at five light-years per day, even a tungsten penetrator torn by the loads will inflict damage to make a MAC envious. I have doubts that even a Supercarrier would survive it. Of course, there are limitations. They cannot be used in the atmosphere. Almost any warhead, except the simplest ones, will simply evaporate upon impact or be destroyed by the loads. Plasma is good because it isn't threatened by that. Mendicant Bias confirmed that this could even be fired at Forerunner ships. Something the size of the Boundless Will would likely be destroyed by a couple of hits. There are also downsides: cost. Each slug essentially costs as much as a Frigate or even a Cruiser; the core requires a corresponding one, as the mass of the warhead will be enormous. Usually, ships are lightened, not weighted to the limit. Also, we don't have Element Zero in the necessary quantities, and the missiles are single-use."
"We can produce engines and cores, Mind Khaela," one of the Geth spoke up for the first time, "and even produce warheads."
"I remind the Consensus that you will need Cruisers for battles," I remarked, "but thank you for the offer. Introducing additional assembly lines takes time and resources."
Parangosky was silent for a long time. Thinking. But then she asked.
"It must be assumed that shooting them down is also impossible. Or extremely difficult. Geth, the problem is in production volumes. It would be better if we all started producing them. Deliver the engines to the exchange zone; you have the projectile blueprint. Refine it and use it; the project is joint."
"Accepted," the machine replied, and then added in a different tone, clearly Mendicant Bias, "Gravitational shields will protect against such projectiles. You would not have managed against the Ecumene with this weapon. But, likely, you would have doubled or tripled the damage. If everything is calculated correctly, only a gravitational distortion will protect those hit by this. Or a solid barrier. Or close combat, as the missile needs space to accelerate. The Covenant loves jumping in close. The weapon is powerful, but counteraction to it is possible."
Exactly what I was talking about. Parangosky nodded to herself.
"So engines and Element Zero are needed for the missiles and weapons, right? And cores."
We all nodded.
"Yes, Vice Admiral."
"You will get it. Your work is approved. All of you."
And she left. Now, looking at the situation, I think. Maybe that's why she agreed so easily? They have a plan for all this. Perhaps. But I want to know more. I can't wait to test our missile.
***
Read the story months before public release — early chapters are on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan