53
Hourglass Nebula. The Sovilo system. The planet Hagalaz. The Grey Throne. Legate.
I don't know how, but my Rilik recognised the Grey Mediator, and so, after 5 transfers, 10 scans and as many hacking those scanners to avoid being spotted, I was finally delivered to the Grey Tron. "The Light of Kila is already in place in stealth mode too. The Ksad and the Goths were ready to take it over while I was here as a Trojan horse, having to disable the alarms, open doors, keep an eye out for reinforcements and enemy forces, and get in his way in every way. The system here was not primitive, but there was no need to use the Virtual.
And so I was dragged out of the bag, thinking I was still unconscious, placed on a chair, tied up, and then injected with Thurian adrenaline, the only thing that could neutralise the effects of the sleeping pills. After twitching convulsively for a while, which was familiar with such a dose, and then, when my appearance told me it was safe to start, a Salarian approached me and started walking around me.
- Your name is Sarterus Raktos. Is that correct? - Dryly and as slowly as possible so that I could keep up with him.
- Who... Who are you? Where am I? Where is my daughter? - Well, let's play the Turian who's been kidnapped.
- We have your daughter. - He also lied unemotionally. I'd believe him if I didn't know what was going on. The Salarian, on the other hand, activated the unit, and three seconds later, an audio recording was played.
- Daddy! Daddy, please save me! Please tell them what you know! I'm begging you! - It was Susie's voice. Or rather, the voice of the turian woman Susie was pretending to be. Yeah, good technology; even I believed it was Susie for a millisecond. Good thing the Grey Mediator knows how to beat the tears out of those he wants. Well, and information, too.
- Solina! - I started screaming. - You lay a finger on her, you toad, and I'll twist your guts to a stake!
- It's in your best interest now to tell us what we want to know.
- What do you want? - I asked, and the Sararian immediately activated the dictaphone on the unit.
- The ship you came in was once on Terah Nova and belonged to the Geti. And now it belongs to you. Where did you get this ship?
- You... You have no idea what you're getting yourself into... At least tell me who you're working for. - I started to pique their interest. That was even interesting to me.
- That's none of your business. Where did you get the ship?
- I will only tell you something once you convince me that you can keep the information secret. - I set my terms.
- We won't tell you anything. Where did you get the ship?
I won't talk to you until I'm convinced you're not amateurs. You have no idea what galactic crap you're getting yourself into by trying to interrogate me. - Instead of answering, that stupid Salarian brute switched the unic to radio mode and contacted someone.
- Go ahead. - Then I heard some crying and Susie's voice.
- What, what are you doing!? Why would you do that!? [drill whirring]... NO! NO, PLEASE DON'T! NO!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! - the voice was just hysterical and so natural that any organist wouldn't have been able to tell the difference. Even my systems only detected a few differences, to the point of insignificance, that they could be written off as interference due to a bad connection or jamming equipment. I knew it was all fake, of course, but holy shit, what a natural it was.
- SOLINE! SOLINA!!! STOP! STOP IT, I'LL SAY IT!!! LEAVE HER ALONE!!! - I started yelling.
- Stop it. - said the Salarian and the drill stopped working, though 'Solina' was still crying in pain and quietly praying to the Spirits to let her die a quick death. It was a special prayer for a quick death, recited in the Turian equivalent of Latin and memorised by heart. - Where did you get the ship?
- Listen to this. If the Geths find out I told you all this, they will find me, they will find you, they will kill us all just for taking me! Я... I will only tell your boss because I won't tell it to a pathetic subordinate. The bastard didn't flinch but reactivated the unic and ordered me to go on again.
- No! No, please, HWA... [the sound of something iron hitting your stomach]... AHEM, AHEM, AHEM, AHEM... Ackha-ha-ha-ha... [vomiting]... Daddy... Please tell them... I can't... Ahem, ahem...
- You're such a bastard... - I hissed. That's how well they play. Well, kudos and respect for that. - I swear to you, son of a varen and a wad... If I get out, I'll find your mother, and I'll rape her to death with anything I can find, make your whole family and you watch, then I'll do the same to all your kin, and I'll cut your hands, feet and eyes off with a fork, but I'll let you live, YOU UNDERSTAND ME!
- Let's have some more. - he said into an ounce.
- No... No, please don't... I beg you... Please! Don't... No more! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!
- SOLINE!!!
- Saluk! Have you completely lost your fear!? - suddenly, a voice came from the loudspeakers. - Stop torturing the girl. The subject is ready.
- Who are you!? - I started twisting my head around, pretending to look for the noise source.
- They call me the Grey Mediator. You'll have to forgive my assistant. He's not cut out for this kind of work at all.
- Sir, I... - The Salarian was interrupted by the door opening. An Azari entered the room we were in and immediately shot the Salarian. I was sprayed with his blood, and the shot blew out his left eye, piercing his head and flying into the wall. The corpse, on the other hand, fell lifelessly to the floor.
- Well, Mr. Sarterus. Once again, I apologise for my ward. He got a little... overreacted and disobeyed my orders. - What a bastard. First, he tortures me, then apologises like I have nothing to do with it. I had already hacked the camera on his computer, and the whole ship was under my command, so I knew I was talking to Jag. He was actually more intelligent than his brethren. He tried to make me feel comfortable with his voice filters, which made my "invisible" interlocutor look like a "good old boy". Any organist would quickly succumb to such a 'good/bad' game, especially after the source of hatred, namely the 'bad' one, has been murdered at the behest of the 'voice', and therefore the voice immediately becomes 'good'. Clever bastard. APPLAUSE IN THE STUDIO!!!
- What's wrong with my daughter? - I snarled angrily, pretending to be as fiercely hateful as possible.
- Your daughter is already being treated. Again, I apologise for the misunderstanding...
- Misunderstanding!? She was tortured with a drill! - I resented it.
- It was my assistant. I didn't expect him to be so incompetent and sadistic. I don't usually do this to people who can provide me with information. I'm a Grey Mediator, not a GOR investigator... Well, never mind...
- I want to... to talk to Solina.
- I'm sorry, but that's not possible. She's been injected with sleeping pills, and she's unconscious now.
- Well... What do you want to know?
- Here. That's a different conversation. However, I'm still a salesman, not an investigator, so... Your price. - Heh, this Jag knows how to sell himself. I'd like to believe he'll pay me, myself. He doesn't have long to live anyway, so we may get on with the game. Ksad is already seeing the Grey Throne's outer doors, and this Jag didn't even know about it.
- Security. - I said firmly. - Mine and my daughter's. And lifetime maintenance.
- Hmm... Harsh demands. You do understand that the information must be appropriate.
- Believe me. More than that. - I said, and a turret crawled out from behind me from under the ceiling and opened fire on Azari, who was standing there pretending to be a piece of furniture the whole time. A shot from a 20-millimetre mass accelerator turned the beauty into a lump of blue stuffing, and blood brightly stained the wall behind her and the door through which she had entered.
- Hey! WHAT THE FUCK?! LET ME OUT! - started yelling, after which I cut the connection between us and all communication in the complex in general. After that, I switched to the cameras and other turrets.
The first victims were the engineers, who were now in the break room. Playing billiards, poker, and having a drink. Suddenly a single 20mm turret pops out of the ceiling. I gut two Turians who were playing billiards. I turn around at three o'clock and shoot six poker players. Turrets in the rear firing a pistol, but nothing comes out. I turn 180 degrees and kill a Salarian, who decorates the wall not only with the blood but also with his insides. Then I turn the turret and shoot the bar. Behind it were three Azari. The door at the back of the turret opens; I turn it and hit the krogan. He's already wearing armour, so the bullets just push him against the wall opposite the door, but they don't kill him in a hurry. The krogan is already pinned against the wall, the turret is almost overheated, and the krogan still has one heart working. So, the turret's overheated, but the Croghan's already dead.
And that's how I dealt with all the mercenaries I could find. There were fewer turrets. And only a few people either - only 50. Then there was Jagg, who couldn't figure out what was happening. He had no cameras, so he just got ready for the fight.
Xad and his Geths had only killed five people, the last ones who had been here. Now only the Jag was left. And that was who Xad decided to deal with. In-person.
****
Grey Tron. Xad.
There it is, the office of the Grey Mediator. Or rather, the door to it. I've heard so much about him. And I can tell you one thing, he deserves respect. In our Empire, finding a ringleader in the market for information took a lot of work. The competition was huge, and our intelligence worked well and crushed the most prominent players in one fell swoop, no matter who it was. And here's the big picture! Well, it's time for a change of ruler.
The door opens, and I run into the office. Geth does it behind me, but suddenly the door sharply closes. The gate doesn't even have time to run away, so the heavy door crushes him into a pancake, as the Legate puts it. Luckily, his programme is already Virtual.
- Xad. - Leghat suddenly contacted me," This door is locked with a mechanical lock. Some kind of compressed air mechanism. I won't be able to open it. That's why you're on your own in there.
- Don't worry. If anything, I'll be transported to the Virtual, so I won't die. Can you tell me?
- I just have one question. - Suddenly, a heavy rumbling voice came over that the analyser refused to recognise. It was, however, an Azarian, though I could tell it was a translator.
- Go ahead and speak. - I decided to inquire as I surveyed the room filled with screens. Finding the only organism in the room with Protean sensors was not tricky, and to my horror, it was a 400kg Jag! The Legatus expression "Fucking hell!" would certainly apply here. In my cycle, they maxed out at 100-110kg, but this was just a mountain of muscle. And that's the kind of guy I should have fought without weapons, only with a platform. Yeah, I wish I'd brought a gun. Still, this platform was perfect for boarding. Heavy, armoured, going in front, it was always intended as a "living" shield under AI control against the light weapons of the ship's crew. Emphasis was placed on armour, manoeuvrability and striking power so the crew could be scattered or officers knocked out for further capture. It was still impossible to deploy with the firepower needed to destroy the platform in the narrow quarters, and it, in turn, could safely go ramming. But here was the problem now. Even though my platform was scattering the Primes at the heretic station, their weight was 300kg of metal and polymers, and here was a 400kg carcass with 3 hearts, 6 lungs, 4 kidneys, 10m intestines, 2 stomachs, 2 livers, 8 eyes, 3 jaws, a chitinous brain, a spinal cord that could act as a brain and 300kg of muscle. And then there are the little things like the truly tough bones, elastic tendons, and skin that can't be penetrated by kinetic pistols and shotguns and can withstand some kinetic rifles like the batarian. Of course, sniper rifles will help here, and then further from a slight distance, from 15 meters, will not penetrate. Yeah, those Yagas will be more challenging than the Krogan.
- How did you find me? - asked his question.
- You shouldn't have kidnapped my friend and put your hand on his daughter. And by the way, your voice-swapping gimmick is well thought out. My friend would have believed it. Only one thing you screwed up.
- What? - He asked.
- You messed with the wrong people. And you know, I don't even blame you. I even respect you. To build such an empire of information trafficking... That takes talent.
- Oh, well, thank you. I'm flattered! - He growled, then came around the corner. In front of me appeared a massive carcass of Jag. He was looking right at me, and in his eyes, I could see... Interest. And then bewilderment that was masked by rage and anger. - You're not here, are you? This armour is empty on the inside. You're an AI?
- A digitised personality. Protean. Xad Hashid. A pleasure.
- Protean. That's impossible.
- Does it make sense for me to lie to you? - I asked him, and he understood me.
- Hmm... Well, then. Whoever you are, I will destroy you. - He said with firm confidence, but he had no arrogance. Just the confidence of a predator.
- Come on, then. The strongest will win.
- As always. - he said and ran at me. I got into a comfortable position, anchored to the floor with my magnets, and prepared to strike. And then, three metres, one metre... The collision was of such force that my platform simply slid across the floor, leaving dents, scratches and sparks on it. Three seconds later, it rammed me into the door and started banging my head against it with monstrous force. Two of the four sensors closer to the centre shattered at once, the blows causing interference. Then he began hitting the body with his fists, and a significant dent appeared on the chest plate, about 15 centimetres in diameter and about 5 deep. It was only after the fifth punch that I pulled myself together. Grabbing his shoulders, I leaned on them, jumped up, and hit him in the chest with both feet. Jag flew back to the floor and rolled along for five metres. For a few seconds, we were both coming off the first round.
- Oh, I should have helped the Jags, not the Azari. - I uttered.
- Oh, I shouldn't have had so much lobster for breakfast. - I know fighting on a full stomach is not a good thing. Not that fighting on an empty stomach isn't good, but fighting on a full one is. And my punch only made his morning meal ready to be ejected. We both got up. Jag looked still combat-ready, though he must have taken such blows, if any, a long time ago. I, on the other hand, meant my platform was 61% intact. Still, this guy knows how to hit. And so, round two.
We both run at each other. At the last moment, I crouch down, locking my arms together for a powerful punch to the stomach. But as I do so, I run my head into his fist. The collision happens at the same time. I lie on my back and Jag, holding my stomach, retreating almost on all fours, but I still don't fall over. I, on the other hand, have a complete reset of my head systems. I can't see anything, as the central vision system is damaged, and the backup system is being connected. Suddenly I feel myself being lifted up and hit in the back with a knee as if trying to break my spine. And by the way, he's doing the right thing; its counterpart is in the back. After the third time, Jag, not having achieved what he wants, throws me against the wall with a U-turn. I collide against it, restoring the floor and my backup vision. Jag clings to his stomach; I have caused one of his stomachs to bleed. However, Jag is not about to give up. Growling in pain, he stands up to his full height. I do the same. And so we look at each other and prepare for the third round.
- That's it, boy. It's time to break you.
- Come on. - Yag bellowed. - Break me completely!
- With pleasure. - the third round has begun.
We run at each other again. Two metres away, I jump and kick him in the face; with my other foot, I attach myself to the ceiling, keep moving my body up, disengage, do a somersault and land on the floor. Jag doesn't fall from my blow, but he's holding his face with his hand. I sprawl out and hit him in the head with two clenched hands. He flies off and falls to the floor, but he's still conscious - his skull is too hard, and causing a concussion in his chitinous brain is too difficult. I run up to him to sit on top of him and finish him off with a kick to the head, but a blow from his fist breaks my knee. This makes me lose my balance as the magnets on my soles no longer work. I fall onto my stomach, and the Jag jumps up and falls over me with his elbow. With that blow, he breaks the spinal cord analogue, then gets up, sits with his knees on his hands, and starts twisting his head around. I try to lift his legs with my hands and turn his head in the opposite direction, but nothing works. After 7 seconds, he twists his lead to 230*, the limit, and the wires start to burst after another second. And then, when the head is already turned to 240*, the last wire bursts, my head is torn away from my body, and I'm plunged into complete darkness. However, I can still hear the jag exhaling in relief.
- I wish they'd mate with you in the gruff! - he said still in Azarian, but one word did not translate. I was still rebuilding systems. The backup spinal cord, sonar vision and connection to backup hydraulics. It all takes a minute. As I scan the room, I see that Jagg has turned his back to me and is now trying to search the extranet for an emergency channel on what to do when bleeding into his stomach.
I start to get up slowly. Quietly so he can't hear. He growls in pain and swears on his tongue, and I slowly walk over to him. And there's a metre to go when suddenly he turns around, smelling a threat from behind; as Legate says, his gut feels it. But there's no stopping me now. Jag didn't even swing for a punch; he thought my platform wouldn't work without my head. Oh yes, how I understand him, it was for this innovation of mine that this platform was taken up again. When the Jag turned around, I punched him in the stomach with all my might with my fist. Then another and another. Another and another. Another and another... After 50 blows, he never lost consciousness, but still, even he could not withstand that, so he just fell to the floor, exhaling all the air from his lungs and started coughing. And so I prepared to kick him in the face when suddenly the door opened, and Legate entered the room.
- Stop. - he said. He was surprised I stood there headless and ready to kill the Jag. It was his request that surprised me.
- Why. - I contacted him through the weak link.
- He's built an information trading empire and knows everything about it. We could use one. - he said it over the regular link, out loud, so that Jag could hear.
- Hm... - I wondered, really. We only know a little about that, so...
- You're ours now, Jag. You can keep your place. We could use a smart guy like you.
- Eh... Uh-oh... Uh-uh-uh... - the Jag started coughing.
- You're making him sound a bit... - said Legatus.
- I wasn't about to let him live. - I clarified.
- Eh... Ahem... Jags... Yagi obeys the strong... And you... Heh heh heh... You are stronger than me... I'm with you. - Yag declared firmly. As firmly as he could, and he couldn't do much right now.
- What is your name? - Legate asked.
- Ahem... Kherd...
- Well, Kherd. Welcome to us.
- Uh... Well... Then... Go downstairs and... Release the turian from the holding cell.
- What turian?
- Well... I had to filter someone else's voice... To impersonate your daughter.