Chapter 5. The Taste of Blood

—The Mass Effect Core has been created, excellent. Installation in normal mode..." I muttered, trying to break up the silence, watching the droids, under direct control, install the EM core I copied from the Reaper onto the station, completed fourteen years ago.

This is exactly how much time has passed since the completion of the assembly of a three-kilometer orbital, universal production and research station by a salarian private company hired on a tip from the Shadow Broker.

They built me ​​a decent station, although I still had to modernize it in order to remove the life support system, because I don't need such a voluminous system that requires a lot of energy, space and resources. Well, then I'll re-equip the assembly lines to suit my needs, make myself several hundred more mobile platforms through which the main work was carried out, re-equip the docks and shipyard, as well as the control room in which I can connect to the station's systems and control all processes directly. All this took a lot of time, but the result exceeded all expectations.

After equipping the space station, I began transporting the Reaper closer to the research complex, for which I had to construct five autonomous repulsors, each half a kilometer in diameter, transport them to the Reaper, along with a supply of fuel, and then dock and secure them with magnets to the Reaper's body, after which, with their help, transport the dead synthetic to the station.

 And it was after this that I finally began to truly research Reaper technology. The structure of the core of the Reaper Mass Effect allowed, after study, to create a much more reliable source of energy, hundreds of times more powerful than standard samples. I installed miniature copies of such a core in two of my main platforms, placed a slightly larger copy in Machiavelli, replacing the old cruiser core with a more advanced one, and placed a full-fledged copy in the station itself, which instantly reduced the resource costs for extracting fuel for energy.

Having solved the problem of energy supply (I no longer had to extract helium-3 from a neighboring planet and use it in a gas power plant inside the complex), I plunged into studying the internal systems of the Reaper, its structure and, in general, everything that this collection of the most advanced technologies from all over could give me cycles in the galaxy. For example, his supercomputer in the shell of the EM core, acting as the brain of the Reaper, allowed me to significantly increase my own computing power by assembling new brains based on my own model and transferring my consciousness into them. And the nanomachines found, changing organic beings into some kind of synthetic zombies, caused a serious emotional upsurge. Why is there a rise, I almost squealed like a bitch with happiness, these are nanomachines! Real nanomachines! You just need to understand how they work and learn to take them under direct control, and the potential for their use is completely limitless, from resource extraction and use as a production factory, to the medical field, expanding physical capabilities by strengthening the body with nanobots and using them in combat to create the necessary types of weapons from nanobots almost instantly.

But what really caught my attention was the methods of processing biomass and the composition of the metal bodies of the Reapers. At the molecular level, the structure of the Reaper's skin resembled that of an organic cell, although some functions were atrophied. For example, the Reaper's cells were more "dense" and intercellular contacts were "stronger". This makes the Reapers' skin, their epidermis, stronger than any known analogue in our galaxy, yet light enough to use such metal as the skin of a spacecraft. However, due to this structure, the biosynthetic cells of the Reaper cannot divide and, accordingly, regeneration does not occur. Because of this structure, the Reapers, although they are a biosynthetic form of life, are still closer to synthetics. However, if you study the mechanism for creating biosynthetic cells, change their structure to make them closer to organics, and grow an organic body on their basis... well, biosynthetic nature will allow me to finally connect left and right amino acids by creating hybrid DNA. And the cells themselves will have greater energy conductivity and energy capacity, they will be more "tenacious"... in short, I will become a real super-soldier, even in comparison with the krogans - natural warriors. Well, this is all in theory, but in practice I still have to process a bunch of data that I managed to extract from the Reaper's memory blocks, study the process of processing and processing biomass from organic life forms in practice (fortunately, the Reaper had the necessary complexes inside to create biosynthetic material in case repair), try to modernize the process and much more.

But another discovery was a more advanced remote control system based on the Reapers' psi technology. Previously, I had to personally board my cruiser and fend off mercenaries, pirates and other lovers of easy money who had flown into the system, but with the advent of new remote access technologies, I can control a small flotilla of frigates and fighters that I riveted in my own shipyards in real time within an entire star system.

Now, in the case of uninvited guests, you don't have to be distracted from your research; it's enough to send your small (several dozen) mosquito fleet and not a single gang of pirates in their old tubs will be able to escape unharmed. Well, complex specialized VIs, which had to be riveted in huge quantities, help me manage the station. Some are responsible for power supply, others for the operation of the station's systems, others carry out repairs and maintenance of the station through the platforms of repair mechs, and the work of all these VIs is coordinated by other VIs. In short, a whole staff of ordinary workers are replacing me with a ton of complex programs, leaving me with only intellectual work.

"Okay, it's time to move on to a more practical part of the study of biomaterial." I put an end to my thoughts when the brand new core, which cost me tens of billions of credits in zero element (fortunately, I took most of the zero element from pirates and smugglers) passed diagnostics and organically fit into the systems stations.

Such a core will be able to maintain a powerful enough shield so that the Dreadnought cannot penetrate it, and the air defense and anti-aircraft defense systems will roll out uninvited guests if they appear in my absence.

***

Batarian Hegemony Border, Attic Traverse.

Actually, I decided to start with the batarians because: firstly, they, as much as I hate to admit it, are genetically most similar to people from the intelligent races of this galaxy. And secondly, I simply don't feel sorry for them. So, boarding my heavy cruiser and taking with me my mosquito fleet with transport workers, I headed to the nearest batarian colony in order to make them feel the same as other races when the batarians, in search of new slaves, attack their colonies: complete despair and all-consuming horror.

After a short twenty-hour journey and a jump through the relay, my fleet immediately headed to the only inhabited planet of Zha'Kor with a population of 9,000 batarians... a lot. Even taking into account a couple of transport workers that I bought and equipped specifically for transporting experimental subjects, I can take about one and a half thousand intelligent ones with me. Two thousand if I pack them tightly and use my flagship to carry another couple hundred batars. Well, that means the rest are wasted.

—First, we jam the signals from the colony, then bombard the colony's ground-based air defenses, and then destroy the population. We don't touch the batarians, we kill the batarians. We don't touch those who surrender," he said more for himself than for the VI, who already know the protocol of actions very well, and he compiled it for them himself.

And then it was simple: one ship with an experimental jammer installed on it hovers over the colony and, hiding behind the cruising shield, activates the device, cutting off the colony's connection with the outside world - the signals simply did not reach the repeater, dissipating halfway. At this time, frigates and cruisers, maneuvering and covering each other, knocked out the few air defenses in the form of stationary five-meter cannons capable of penetrating the shields of ships up to a light cruiser, and shot down the few civilian spaceships taking off.

When the air defense forces were finished, it was time for the bombing. The ship's cannons mowed down the civilian population of the four-eyed and their typical buildings in the form of modular boxes, without making any distinction between the material of construction or the age and gender of the batards, leaving only burning ruins from houses, and only scraps of flesh and blood from children, old people and adults. However, the bombing was only an act of intimidation, taking at most five hundred lives, but achieving the desired result and driving all the inhabitants to the center of the colony.

Having surrounded the colony with its fleet along the perimeter, three hundred landing bots rained down from Machiavelli. Three hundred battle droids armed with plasma shotguns and rapid-fire rifles, whose shot penetrates a standard personal kinetic shield with hits of five rounds, and even the personal protection of the bots was the newest on the market, cost a hundred thousand per person and was the best personal protection in the entire galaxy . Well, why shouldn't it exist, because it was I who developed the new configuration of these kinetic shields and I released it to the market. In general, the colonists have no chance.

When the ships, having completed their work, hovered in the planet's atmosphere, my control over them was no longer needed and I disconnected from managing the fleet.

"Well, that's all, it's just a matter of little things, I'll go and warm up," he said again out loud in order to break up the silence while he was heading towards the hangar.

In the hangar, after the doors opened, I was presented with a view of the planet from outer space. Unfortunately, some ships, such as heavy cruisers or dreadnoughts, are too heavy to land on a planet. That is why such ships are built directly in space and are not lowered to planets, because none of the powers of the Mass Effect core are enough to lift the ship back into orbit. Although no, the Reaper cores are so powerful that they can easily descend to the planet, but making them is also quite expensive and dangerous, which is why I was able to create and deliver such a core only fourteen years after acquiring my station: it was expensive, dangerous and there was no necessary equipment .

Without feeling my own body, only noting how smoothly the servos worked, I pushed off and went into free fall, watching with all my visual sensors how the planet was getting closer and closer. Even without nerve endings and an organic sense of perception of space, I felt everything inside "whoop" and for a second I felt alive. True, after just a few seconds, the sensors began to signal that the body was heating up due to atmospheric friction, and I had to start slowing down with the help of repulsors and at the same time lightening my weight with the Mass Effect fields.

I chose the hottest point of the conflict as the landing site, where some colonists, armed with old assault rifles, tried to repel my droids, although they rather stopped the advance with their corpses.

Upon landing, he immediately tested the repulsors in battle and beams of plasma instantly burned the heads of two male batarians, adding two more corpses to the general dump.

Having assessed the position, he imitated an annoyed "tut" and destroyed most of the crowd with targeted salvos of missiles, trying not to hit a couple of asari, a salarian and four turians in this crowd.

It was precisely because of the presence of representatives of other races in the defending camp that did not allow my droids to push through the defenses, yet the protocol of VI actions clearly indicated the killing of only batarians. So the colonists fell upon the inactive droids. I, noting how the survivors abandoned their weapons in horror and ran to the center of the colony, flew to another such "jam."

Having spent half a day capturing the settlement, it was only in the evening that they managed to drive the surviving colonists, shaking in horror, to the central square and find all those hidden or wounded, with which heat sensors helped. The wounded batarians were killed on the spot, but those who were hiding were led to the rest of the crowd.

And finally, hovering above the crowd and looking at the frightened faces of the xenos, he began to give orders. "Everyone who is not of the batarian race, get out of the crowd!" boomed my deep baritone voice, carefully modeled after one charismatic synthetic villain from the film, whose name I now bear.

After my order, only a few asari, salarians, turians and even one elcor broke down, the rest rushed about not knowing what to do.

After waiting another five minutes while the hostages were rushing around in panic, I decided to speed them up and shot the ugly batarian, whose ugly four-eyed child shouted "Mom!" began to try to bring the fresh corpse to life, tugging at her shoulder, and crying bitterly from the understanding that her mother was dead.

After such a demonstration, the crowd became agitated and a deafening "Quiet!" was even said several times. had no effect. I had to give the command to the droids and shoot several hundred more four-eyed xenos, which included that child.

After the mass executions, the people calmed down and xenos not related to the batarian race began to leave the crowd, creating a new smaller crowd. Those who did not want to go were pushed out by other xenos who did not want new deaths.

-Great, which of you are slaves? Go to that platform over there." He gave a new order and pointed to the droid, who had put down his weapon and taken out medical instruments from his pouch.

After my order, a thin line of slaves approached the droid, whom the mech scanned, and then localized and removed from them an embedded slave chip with explosives. From the realization that they had found the long-awaited freedom, some slaves burst into tears, and I even flew to one asari, dressed in a simple nightie and bearing traces of violence, and put my hand on her shoulder in a gesture of support.

When the slaves were processed, received medical care and clothing if necessary, I switched to non-slave xenos who had left the batarian system. And there were no more than a couple of dozen of them, mostly asari, but there were a couple of krogans and volus among them.

"You... are not slaves." I looked around at those present, fixing my gaze on the tiny asari huddling close to the blue woman. —Reasons for your presence here.—.

-Job. My brother and I were hired to deliver goods," the krogan with a green crest on his head, fastened with metal staples due to a crack cutting the crest, answered first, and provided as evidence his contract and document for the ownership of a small cargo ship.

Krogans are another race of the galaxy, a very warlike race and probably the only one who can compare with the asari in longevity. Krogans look like humanoid lizards two meters tall, with massive three-fingered limbs, a large mouth full of powerful teeth and a prominent hump that stores fat in case of hunger strike. Krogan skin is incredibly strong and difficult to pierce even with a knife, and half of the body is covered with durable chitin that can even withstand a shot from a firearm. All vital organs of krogans are duplicated, and in the event of a failure of the nervous system, it can be replaced by a duplicated circulatory system capable of conducting electrical signals. In addition to all of the above, krogans are extremely resistant to poisons, radiation, extreme temperatures and can eat food that would simply kill other races. All this provides the krogan with phenomenal vitality, which, coupled with innate aggressiveness, makes the krogan natural fighters.

This is exactly what the salarians thought when they found these lizards on Tuchanka - the home planet of the krogans, on which they survived under the yoke of radiation due to the nuclear war organized by the krogans. Then the races of the galaxy were at war with the insectoid race of the Rachni, which the humanoid races were losing. The salarians took the krogan into space, gave them weapons and technology, and used them as a club against the rachni. And since krogans are incredibly fertile (on average 1000 eggs per clutch from one female) and mature quite quickly, the losses were quickly replenished and the number of krogans even began to become much larger. And now the Rachni found themselves in a desperate situation, until they were completely exterminated. The krogans became heroes, the Citadel Council allocated planets for them to colonize, but the krogans are not only terribly prolific, they also live for more than a thousand years, so at some point there were too many of them and the krogans began to capture other people's planets. The Krogan Uprising began, held back by the turians who had recently joined the Citadel Council and the best agents of the Citadel - the SPECTER. The uprising ended when the salarians developed and used a genophage - a virus that transforms krogan genes. As a result of the work of the genophage, the krogan birth rate has changed and for every one child born, there are a thousand stillborns. After this, they would look for a cure, populate other planets and try to somehow restore their numbers, but the krogans are warriors to the core, and therefore they become mercenaries, pirates, guards and, as a result, die. So the krogans are slowly dying out, although some choose more peaceful professions. But this is very rare.

After checking the information provided by the krogan and not finding anything suspicious, I sent them to the freed slaves.

"Shhh," he took a noisy breath through the respiratory system of his volus suit when I turned my gaze to him and hastened to answer the unasked question. -I'm here too...shhh...for work. I provide services...shhh...galactic bank, being its...shhh...representative.—.

After checking the story, the volus went after the krogan, and I turned my gaze to the small group of asari.

"You are not slaves," I concluded after examining them.

"My mother is a slave," one asari said and pointed to a woman in a separated crowd. —I was born from a batarian and my father did not make me a slave.—.

There were several more of these, and they all also went to the former slaves.

"Well, what about you?" I asked the small group of those who remained, no more than a dozen asari.

-I was made free when my master fell in love with me. "I married him," one of the women hastened to speak out and provided a marriage registration certificate.

Having found the right batarian in the crowd, a couple of mechs took him out of the crowd, and I put a pistol in the asari's hand. "These slavers are nothing but rot on the face of the galaxy. They captivated you, he took you by force and considered that such an abomination as he could be on an equal footing with such a beautiful asari like you. He began to speak softly, leading to the desired topic, but was interrupted.

"Damn you vile synthetic, who is rot on the face of the galaxy, it's you!" the four-eyed man spat at me, but the saliva spread powerlessly over the flared biotic barrier, and I continued not paying attention.

"Kill this abomination and you will be free again." Get rid of a terrible stain in your life.—.

The batarian also said something that I couldn't get away with this and that his dear wife would never do such a thing, but he shut up when the asari began to raise the pistol with trembling hands and when the barrel stared into the four-eyed man's face, with a cry of rage, hatred and grief she pulled the trigger, shooting through the xenos skull. True, the woman did not stop and continued to shoot at the body of the dead alien until the gun overheated and the safety blocked the trigger. Only then did the woman laugh like crazy, fall to her knees and pass out from the stress.

While the droids were transporting the woman, I carried out the procedure with the others. Some of their husbands had already died; I forced some of them to kill the relatives of their dead husbands, but one asari distinguished himself.

"I won't do this!" the woman said firmly and moved the muzzle of the gun from her husband's head to mine, and then fired.

True, the shots crashed against the kinetic shield, and then a plasma charge flew out of the repulsor on my hand, punching a hole in the batarian's chest and taking his life. From such a picture, tears flowed down the asari's cheeks, and her little daughter pressed closer to her, screaming and calling for dad... whom I had just killed. At my command, two droids held the woman's hands, and one brought me a syringe pistol with a sleeping pill, which I injected into the girl, putting the baby to sleep, and then gave it to one of the former slaves.

Having given the girl away, I returned to her mother and wrapped my hands around the woman's head.

-You voluntarily linked your life with a slave trader, with this... batarian. You lived happily, watching your fellow tribesmen vegetate in slavery. "You are an abomination, not worthy of life," I finished and, not listening to the woman's pleas, I twisted her neck.

Although it was more logical to take her and study the physiology of an asari on, so to speak, a living example, emotions took over. The mere thought that such a beautiful creature voluntarily associated herself with such an abomination shortens the servos and makes her tremble.

Having finished with the non-batarians, I allocated a detachment of mechs that delivered them on shuttles aboard my cruiser and was left alone with the four-eyed colonists, scared to death. Of these, he singled out one and a half thousand healthy young individuals, half for each sex, and placed them on transport ships.

And already late at night, left alone with four thousand surviving and morally exhausted colonists, looking around them, he said just one phrase, "Your existence alone is a mistake," after which he gave the command to shoot.

All the droids opened fire at the same time, hot thermal charges fell to the ground until they covered it with a dense carpet, and the bodies of the killed batarians also fell to the ground. The civilians had no shields, no protection, and the mechs hit without missing a beat, killing hundreds of ugly xenos every second.

Not much time passed before they were all dead, and I, standing ankle-deep in the blood of dead batarians, concluded in a satisfied tone. -Today we made the galaxy a little cleaner, but one day I will cleanse it completely of this four-eyed rot, for the sake of humanity. No, for the sake of all life forms in the galaxy.—.

Before leaving the colony, my droids carefully collected all the fired thermal charges and, having installed bombs throughout the colony, I finally left the planet despite the explosion like a real tough guy. What an emotional upsurge, now it's clear why synthetics love killing leather meatbags so much. Although I would not kill the same asari or quarians without reason, a race of arrogant and ugly slave owners is another matter.