Chapter 35. Troubled Term

Krogan DMZ, Aralakh system, Tuchanka.

Looking at the red ball from space, resembling a burn on the face of the galaxy, I experienced conflicting emotions. On the one hand, the place is extremely unpleasant and, to say the least, dangerous. The place where the most furious warriors of the galaxy appeared did not survive the rage of their children and in the nuclear war they organized it turned into a nuclear wasteland, living a day in which is already a test. Finding water here that is clean enough for krogans to drink is already a non-trivial task, and trying to get food on Tuchanka can turn around one hundred and eighty degrees and from the hunter you yourself can become the prey. Tuchanka is a real post-apocalyptic hell that the krogans themselves created. And this hell hardened them, making them even more tenacious and dangerous. 

On the other hand, I spent quite a long time with prisoners in the Mediator's prison. He transported the victims to their home sectors, handing them over to government agencies of their races. Although of course not all of them, I shot the same batarians and left them where I took them without any pity. I know it's not right, but...I don't care. I don't like batarians and I frankly don't care about their fate, but leaving them alive in that prison so that they slowly die of hunger... Well, as for me, a bullet in the forehead is much more merciful.

In addition to the prisoners, there were fresh corpses for experiments with nanites. Many, many fresh corpses in coffins, with which I filled one of Victoria's empty premises. With these experiments, my workshop-laboratory began to look more like an autopsy room, but still the prospects for studying nanites are simply amazing. Instant regeneration right in battle, recovery even after injury, or even complete destruction of the brain, and even some form of biological immortality! Well, and protection from the Reaper nanites, of course.

But I couldn't devote enough time to my experiments. And even the Shadow Broker, with whom we only had the opportunity to communicate once again without any result for both of us, has nothing to do with it. It's all about Shiagur's posthumous request. I wanted to carry out his will as quickly as possible, but taking care of the living was a more important task. However, from time to time it was tempting to give up everything and finish this matter so that... friend, perhaps? Yes, so that a friend can rest in peace. Still, I am indirectly to blame for his death; it was because of the Mediator's interest in me that the crazy salarian kidnapped the krogan. And he just treated me kindly without any intention, unlike the same Erada, who initially worked for the Mediator.

While the consciousness indulged in extensive thoughts, the hands automatically calculated the route on the control panel of the shuttle to the Nakmor clan, which had settled in the wastelands of Tuchanka. Or rather, in the well-preserved ruins of a school for greasy krogans. And earlier they had schools, science, art. They developed their progress, but they themselves screwed everything up. Then the salarians came, artificially developed their civilization without allowing them to go through this evolutionary path themselves, and used them as a club against the rachni - an insectoid aggressive race, which the salarians dug up. And when the krogans won and directed the resulting technologies against the other races and began their favorite thing - war, the amphibians morally destroyed the entire race, creating and using a genophage together with the turians. Great solution, simply brilliant.

Now the krogans themselves do not believe in the survival of their race, and therefore have turned into fatalistic egocentrics, living solely for themselves today without looking back at the consequences. Well, what's the point if these consequences will be in the future, but there is no future for them?

Now the krogans either wander around the galaxy as mercenaries, bandits and pirates, or sit on their home planet united in clans and fight with each other on the sly, competing for food, loans and krogan women.

The flight to the Nakmor clan base was almost without problems. Yeah, only at the end I got caught in a strong sandstorm, because of which I couldn't break through the radio interference and contact the krogans, and they, in turn, managed to spot me in this storm and tried to shoot me down with stationary missile guns. I was able to dodge only by a miracle; due to the strong shaking of the shuttle, I was jerked sharply and the projectile flew past. So I decided to go down and adore until the storm passed.

As a result, I waited about eighteen hours until everything calmed down, although after such an adventure the shuttle would have to be disassembled to the ground, cleaned and repaired.

Having climbed out of the sandy hill with which my transport was littered, I was finally able to properly contact the Nakmor clan.

—Says the captain of Victoria. "I request permission to visit the Nakmor clan," he said calmly, connecting to the open radio frequencies of the krogans.

"Purpose of arrival," a growling voice was heard in response after half a minute of silence, when I thought that they had not heard me and perhaps it was worth repeating.

-I have the body of a member of your clan - Nakmor Shiagur. Brought for burial.—.

—Wait.—.

I had to wait another ten minutes until I was finally allowed to sit down and even opened the entrance to a flat stone plateau protruding from the sands.

True, as it turned out, this plateau is nothing more than the roof of an underground structure that has sunk under the sand over centuries of neglect. Well, at least now it is clear how such a small clan as Nakmor holds out independently of more numerous and larger clans: when it is impossible to enter their base from the rear or make a tunnel, and the only entrance is guarded by pillboxes with rockets and heavy machine guns, it is extremely difficult to take such a base. Well, if they are still pinned down, you can barricade yourself from the inside and wait for a sandstorm, the enemy will either leave on his own or be buried under a layer of sand.

I was met by a whole delegation led by a healthy, almost two-and-a-half-meter-tall lizard with a gray forehead plate and a blue armored suit specially designed for krogans. This one's defense is my respect. The power of the kinetic shield is ensured by a healthy core for personal protection of the masses and additional energy cells on the shoulders, and the thick armor of the suit itself can withstand a couple of point-blank shots from a Krogan needle gun, and this is very serious.

-Hah, are you the whole crant of this coward, little fool? Not surprising." The lizard grinned as soon as I got out of the shuttle, his face sparkling without a helmet.

However, I myself looked extremely impressive in my WF - 2, hung with cannons like a turian primarch with medals. I specially dressed up to impress these warriors and judging by the respectful looks of the lizards around, including their leader, who decided to fuck in front of a stranger, I succeeded.

But it was impossible to leave the insult unanswered, otherwise you could forget about any respect in their society, so without wearing a helmet and following their glorious tradition, spied on the extranet during flights, I heartily hit my forehead on the forehead plate of the leader of the delegation standing closely. Moreover, I didn't calculate my strength, and the synthetic muscles with the armor's servos "helped," so supernovas flashed in pain in my eyes, and the krogan himself flew several meters away and growled and whined, holding his forehead, where a small crack appeared.

"Hah, I like your alien character," came the voice of another krogan, much more massive than all the ones I had previously met and with a green crest on his head. -But you are still a stranger and are on our territory. Don't forget this if you don't want to die.—.

Visual evidence of his words was the cannons of the krogan delegation pointed at me from the moment I loaded their commander's forehead plate.

While I was waiting for further actions, a new krogan (although more likely an old one, because even in appearance he was much older than everyone present) came close to me and sniffed me. -Hmm, you smell like milk. And also metal, element zero and blood. Young, but has already taken many lives. A good krantt, albeit young and a stranger. Where is Shiagur's body?—.

At my command, a massive coffin, welded together from three ordinary ones, emerged from the inside of the shuttle, so that such a massive xenos could fit in it.

"Fine, we'll bury him in the same place where all the worthy krogans lie." On the sacred land of our ancestors," the lizard nodded. —You can fly back.—.

—But I wanted...—.

"No!" the lizard approached me, glaring at me with an evil gaze. A non-krogan has no place on the sacred land of the krogan. Fly away.—.

Our communication ended there and I boarded the shuttle and headed to Victoria.

When I returned, but already in my stealth armor, the krogans had just climbed up on the lifting platform in their tomkah - a massive, well-armored and extremely reliable armored vehicle in the conditions of Tuchanka, armed with two large mass cannons on a weapons turret.

The thing may be extremely simple and reliable, but it is by no means quiet, so it was not difficult to find and catch up with them based on the sound. And having caught up with them, I attached a bug to the transport, after which I flew off to a sufficient distance to remain unnoticed even without an active camouflage system.

The path turned out to be long, a full six hours of driving without stopping, but in the end we reached a vast stone overtake, partially covered with sand. And on this flooring, around it on the sand, on the fragments of nearby ruins, everywhere the eye could reach lay sun-bleached bones. Whole mountains of krogan bones. It's not surprising that several packs of varrens were found here, gnawing on these same bones.

Having driven away the animals with loud shots, which killed several of their representatives, the krogans took out from the inside of the tomkah the very coffin that I had brought and brought it to the bone plateau. And they even went a little deeper, clearing the way of the bones of their ancestors, after which they opened the metal box, took out the body from there and threw it into a relatively clean area. One of the krogans, quite old and with scarred skin, uttered a ritual phrase, after which the lizards gathered back. I also flew to Victoria. Of course, I could have taken care of protecting the body, but then I would have violated the krogan traditions, and if Shiagur wanted to be buried according to them, who am I to interfere with this?

***

Having dealt with this matter, life became easier, as if freed from a burden on my shoulders. Unless I had an unpleasant conversation with Liara. It's not that it was unpleasant for me to talk to her, rather the opposite, but the content of our conversation was quite difficult. I told her about what happened to Shiagur, Erada, and me recently... without any details. He spoke about the Shadow Broker and his results in the field of developing new technologies.

Well, after that I resolved the issue with the Shadow Broker. Or rather, he wanted to decide and not have anything to do with him, but the information broker only dropped a few coordinates in the Azarian sector, where trade with the Batarian Hegemony is taking place, bypassing all the laws of the Citadel space with the words "Do with the information at your own discretion." To put it bluntly, they sold asari into slavery and I simply could not ignore such impudence, and the Mediator knew how and what to put pressure on so that I would use his services.

In general, having plotted the route, I headed to the nearest such planet and while the ship was moving on autopilot in the direction I needed, I continued to experiment with nanites and corpses. And he made great success in this; the reanimated asari only forgot the last months or years, and not their entire lives. The rest of the body's functions were completely fine. And it's not clear whether I didn't select the optimal stimulation of the central nervous system, or whether the brain itself tried to forget the time spent in captivity? Now I'll collect new asari corpses and find out for sure.

***

Omega Nebula, Fathar system, planet Lorek.

An investigation into the slave trade in the Azari sector eventually led me to Esan. Or rather, this is what this planet was called before, when it was under the control of the Asari Republics. Only a little over two hundred years ago this planet was captured by the Batarian Hegemony and renamed the planet Lorek. I still want to break the necks of those fools who thought of leaving such impudence without a military response, and limited themselves to a "major political scandal." When and if we defeat the Reapers, I think I have enough power and influence, if not to arrange genocide of the four-eyed abomination, then at least reduce them to the state of a race of parasites without their own state system.

In any case, these are things of the distant future. And now I was clearing the asari worlds of pirates. And they were located precisely on the way to the space of the Termina systems, and Lorek acted as a trading hub on the way to the Batarian Hegemony. So I decided to look here and did not regret it. Judging by the intercepted conversations and trade estimates, they prepared to transport the next batch of slaves. Hundreds of asari kidnapped from our sector. I could not leave such arrogance, and therefore I made my way into the outposts of Lorek, infected their internal network and seized control of the air defense systems. So when Victoria, which appeared in the sky above the only major spaceport of Lorek, began to smash the warships of the Hegemony into cosmic dust, the laser guns, which were supposed to act as escorts for transport workers with slaves, began to hit their own instead of protecting the batarians. So, in the end, the four-eyed people requested negotiations.

How surprised they were when a single figure emerged from the bowels of the heavy frigate, albeit clad in massive armor and armed with everything possible... However, it's worth paying tribute to, they were in no hurry to attack me. They surrounded me, prepared for battle, but did not attack, sending a delegation to me for negotiations. And this delegation was headed by one slippery batard, who immediately tried to buy me.

-Listen, a hundred first-class slaves and half a million credits! This is a great offer. Agree and the Batarian Hegemony will forget about this attack. We may even be able to establish mutually beneficial cooperation. Your skills...—.

-Shut up xenos. I have not come to intercept the slaves, but to free them. You are still alive only because I could hit the captured asari with orbital bombardment." Simultaneously with my words, a heavy machine gun jumped out from behind, its mechanism accelerating for suppressive fire, accompanied by an increasing roar.

However, the massacre was prevented by the appearance of a group of ships consisting of three frigates, seven fighters and one old but good-quality cruiser.

I would have knocked them out too, only they wore signs of belonging to the group of Queen Omega Aria T'Loak - the asari matriarch with almost a thousand years of experience and who controls most of the systems of Termina, for which she is also called the pirate queen.

In general, eminent guests complained to us; they could cause a lot of problems and should be taken into account. So I skipped them, wanting to hear what they had to say.

Of the ships, only a couple of frigates landed, and the remaining ships decided to monitor the situation from the air. Unless a shuttle flew out of the cruiser, on which was the leader of the Aria delegation - a turian in FreeMan Armory armor, model PL - 8 "Bird of Prey". Considering that the line of this type of armor was developed for SPECTER turians and at the moment the latest version of this armor PL - 9 went on sale only three months ago and is available only to SPECTER, then pirates are living quite well these days.

"What's going on here?" the turian immediately asked a question while his people surrounded the rather nervous batars.

Well, yes, there are, at most, about six dozen militants here with frankly average and clearly supported weapons, and against them were clearly some of the best fighters of Aria with air support, and even I was cuffed in a walking tank. The situation couldn't be worse.

 - Slave trade. These bastards have been kidnapping asari and I will get them back one way or another. If you interfere, I'll make mincemeat of you all," my distorted voice rang out from under the mask of armor.

- So it was you who caused the fuss? Not bad." The xenos spread his mandibles in a grin, looking around at the burning wreckage of batarian ships and the ruins of their residential buildings, after which he turned again to the slippery batarian, whose brown skin glistened with sweat. —Bachrach, Aria warned you. You conduct business in Terminal systems only through Aria. The term does not belong to the Batarian Hegemony.—.

"Glacis, I..." however, the batarian was not destined to finish.

In an instant, Glacis's hand cannon was pointed at the four-eyed man's chin and blew out his brains with a loud bang, and a second later my machine gun was collecting a bountiful harvest from the lives of the batards. Turians, salarians and even krogans under the command of Glasis also did not sit idle, but they began to be taken out one by one with sniper rifles. I also got a couple of shots, but they couldn't even penetrate the shield. However, it was stupid to leave the snipers, so taking off, followed by the dumbfounded glances of the mercenaries, I quickly found the shooters' positions by comparing the trajectories of the shots and cleared them with volleys of life-giving plasma from the repulsors.

When he descended to the ground, it was all over, and commander Aria's xenos went to clean up the remaining batarians, such as technicians or doctors who were left to look after the slaves. Only Glacis himself, who had already put his rifle in the mount on his back, remained to wait for me.

"Impressive, such technology would be useful to Aria." The turian nodded contentedly, looking me over from head to toe. -Do you want to enter her service? We won't hurt you with loans, girls are better, booze, drugs...—.

"What will happen to the asari?" interrupted the xenos' agitation, but only shrugged his shoulders at such an attitude.

-No idea, that's up to Aria. If he wants it, he will sell it, if he wants it, he will let it go. I've already sent her a message, so let's wait for a response.—.

And it didn't take long to wait for an answer. Aria decided to release the prisoners, escorting them to the territory of the asari, and will even send information about those who traded their relatives already in our sector, collaborating with the four-eyed. In exchange, I must appear before the Queen of Omega in person. Holy shit, there was no sadness.