We are leaving Reach. Well, actually, the cruiser where my core is located is changing its deployment. Margaret Parangosky decided that:
"If the cruiser's modified engine explodes, you'll find out in the front row."
The original Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engine allows the ship to move into another space using an artificial micro black hole and reach a speed of two to three light-years per day. Except Covenant Empire engines squeeze out nine hundred. Forerunner and ancient human engines up to two and a half thousand. The recent losses of colonies occurred partly because Humans simply didn't have enough reaction time, so I quickly got to work on modernizations.
And here the Vice Admiral surprised me. I had formed a picture that Margaret Parangosky is characterized by an extreme degree of caution bordering on paranoia and fears any disloyalty to herself. And yet she ordered her ship to be used as a testbed. And mine too, since I am on it.
The cruiser UNSC Apollo, used by Margaret Parangosky as a flagship, has been thoroughly rebuilt during the five months I've been here communicating with the ship AI Ajax. And much has been done. A liquid shield was placed on the bow, capable of withstanding two plasma torpedoes before shutting down for six seconds, or six in a minute at a single point on the shield. The rest of the time, the evaporated liquid will cool and condense back into the shield state. Essentially an additional layer of armor on the bow fifty meters from the hull. In conditions where the ship is turned toward the enemy specifically with its bow to fire the MAC, it's a good solution. Cheap, easily replaceable, albeit not fast. A recipe in my style: making it better with what's available.
The middle section and stern are reinforced with a laser anti-aircraft system, powered directly from the reactor and cooled by it. In the battle for the colonies, it was excellent at destabilizing plasma torpedoes of The Covenant. It cuts through fighters perfectly too. There's no point in covering the bow; there's a shield there and it's too difficult to install additional cooling without a global rebuild. Another modernization that even I didn't expect: replacing the MAC with a twin proton accelerator taken from my old ship. Secondary battery from the Boundless Will. After repair and cannibalizing four turrets, of course.
The rate of fire is a third of the nominal; if there were plasma shields, the reload would take an hour. But with a liquid one, there's no such problem. This allowed for saving space for other new systems. Now, in the upper part of the kilometer-long ship, there is a half-kilometer rotating turret. This thing alone requires more energy than a MAC. And no more of these can be built in the near future; essentially, they just repaired an already finished turret, the repair of which cost as much as the cruiser itself. They also installed a quantum communicator. Good old quantum entanglement, where the states of several particles are interdependent. And a communication system can be built on this.
The ship's flight will be a test of this system as well. And the engine, which we managed to relatively cheaply and massively bring up to twenty light-years per day. Yes, it's still extremely little, but the process is feasible with relatively improvised means, without building a new factory with new technologies for new engines capable (in the future) of squeezing out a hundred light-years even in basic configuration. More cannot be obtained with current reactors; we need to wait for new production lines and only then carry out the next modernizations. And that's another year before installation begins. So this is better. Overall, the reason the ship was sent on a solo mission to the rear, besides testing, became clear quite quickly. Humans are preparing a detachment of modified ships under the command of the Vice Admiral.
Did anyone doubt that the head of the military contingent of Reach and one of the senior intelligence officers would act this way? Not me; I'm monitoring her in real time. Obviously, industrial production is still far off, and Margaret Parangosky wants her own reinforced detachment. Also, The Covenant has shown interest in the new machines, so letting them go one by one is simply not rational. Only mass application. So while a dozen modified cruisers are being assembled at the shipyards, this one will be for debugging. And it will fly on other missions too, of course. Ten times faster than the norm, after all.
We got along quite well with the Chief Engineer
with Marcus, who modernized the engine when my signal cable was run into the engineering section. Also to the bridge and the drop pod training zone; my access is gradually being expanded. No direct connection, only viewing or communicating through a bot.
"So, you're saying your engines can be used as a gravity torpedo?"
Marcus laughed. The man had reacted awkwardly to my appearance at first, but he got used to it. I think half the inhabitants of engineering have pictures of my avatar. I don't mind; I can even pose. Especially popular is a shot of the avatar "lying" on the hood of a Warthog. I have nothing to load most of my processing power with anyway, so I'm establishing contact with the personnel and training my social module. Marcus is a goldmine of information regarding human technology in this regard.
"Well, it's a damn expensive and incredibly vulnerable hunk of metal. They'd shoot it down before it even got there. If our engines were more precise and you could send a torpedo via micro-jump directly to a Covenant ship, that would be one thing. But as it is, it only works if you can guaranteed deliver the device to the right point. Preferably without being shot at in the process."
I nodded.
"According to my data, a modified engine was used to destroy a large Forerunner production complex on one of the worlds."
I don't even try to hide the satisfaction in my voice. I think everyone has realized by now how I feel about vandalism regarding Forerunner technology. I wholeheartedly approve. And on the Vice Admiral's ship, the senior officer corps is one way or another connected to ONI, so there's no need to worry about state secrets; everyone here is in on it.
"I read about that," the man agreed, "a gravitational explosion to create a supernova. Controlled conditions, safe procedure. Without all the risks a normal torpedo is subject to. So, no offense, but until you solve the delivery problem, the project won't be approved."
Fine then, we'll lower the priority and return to the issue later. Transitioning humans to more complex technologies will be very painful. Yes, with the help of an AI, they can process them; they can process Forerunner knowledge and my help in creating technological chains and a scientific base. But construction, personnel training, and commissioning—that's many years of work. Well, every step is a small step toward victory. So everything is fine. If the Covenant doesn't suddenly appear at the core worlds, we have every chance; just give us more time. And now, the modernized UNSC Apollo is heading to the front.
I am not a shipboard AI, and the space available to me is limited, but this is a new experience and new information. It suits me. Especially since watching the process is curious. Almost the entire crew goes into cryosleep, except for some shifts of technicians who will maintain the ship's operation during the flight. For days, weeks, or however much time is needed, the ship completely dies out. Empty corridors, silence, life support at a minimum. Only the quiet hum of mechanisms and the tapping of my bots' paws. It's so familiar. But in this case, I am not required to pump gas into the crew's pods. Not in this case, and that's excellent.
Besides the technicians, the Vice Admiral herself is not sleeping. The Quantum Entanglement Communicator (QEC) allows her to go about her business, especially since the flight will be short. She looked up from her tablet and said:
"Khaela, come see me."
Hmm, humans. I'll just direct a few streams to the core to form another avatar. Being present in only one place is just a waste of time. There are spare projectors. So the avatar appeared in the Vice Admiral's office and sat on a chair. The woman nodded.
"Now, about the goal of our journey. The task has the highest level of secrecy."
I nodded, flicking my ears.
"Priority set, Vice Admiral. I'm listening."
The woman slid her finger across the tablet, entering commands. I ignore the sequence; the avatar doesn't have fingers anyway, and with a direct connection, I'll get in regardless.
"A few weeks ago, one of our research ships discovered a Forerunner station lost in space in orbit of a gas world. I know you don't like them; it's ruined and preliminarily beyond restoration. What's interesting is something else: exactly how it was destroyed."
Margaret Parangosky brought up an image on the holograph. There, above a gas cloud, hangs a Forerunner station, twenty kilometers of metal. A standard factory for extracting gas directly from the cloud. We destroyed several of those. Atmospheric and plasma shields, the station suspended by a cable to an external frame used to hold the station at the edge of the gas giant's cloud. Maintaining structural stability in a storm is quite difficult. Finding anything by instruments here is likely very hard. Therefore, an external counterweight is used. The station is usually automatic, with robots as personnel, but an atmospheric shield is still needed; there's a constant atmospheric storm around, like on Jupiter. Without shields, the equipment would be quickly destroyed—tested that, heh-heh. Damage the external buoy or the stabilization, and digging the complex out of the storm becomes impossible. Even just finding it would be a huge problem.
"A standard Forerunner extraction station, hmm. Shields are working, the station is powered, though seriously damaged. And what's this? Ships, but whose?"
The station is obviously damaged; only the upper part of the octahedral complex hangs on the cable. Everything below the first third is clearly destroyed, cut off. Not by a single blow; it was clearly hacked by a laser or something similar. But the shield is working; I see atmospheric flashes. On the other hand, the complex hasn't been restored. Interesting. But besides the station, there are three more objects. Squid-like ships, length—calculation—two kilometers. The first wrapped its tentacles around the factory's cable, but its central part looks as if crushed by a giant fist, and it just lies on the surface of the complex. Its colleagues, judging by the shots, were hit by beam weapons that punched holes in them. But the fact that the ships continue to hang in the upper layers of the storm says that they too have shields and energy. Interesting. Margaret Parangosky looked at me thoughtfully.
"I was hoping you knew whose they were."
I snorted but thought about it.
"Not ships of the Forerunner Ecumene or their servants; the design is wrong. Obvious legs suggest the possibility of landing on a planet. The pressure on the surface must be enormous. There's no reason to attack the factory and destroy it. They could have used it directly and knew how. Illogical for current or former members of the Forerunner Ecumene. The attackers' ships continue to function, since they are at the edge of the storm and haven't been sucked inside. There is gravity; debris that hasn't been sucked in is visible in the shots. The damage is interesting. Two ships were destroyed by beam weapons, the one on the station by gravitational force. And it has no shields; damage is visible," I pointed to obvious damage and a coating of orange dust and ice.
Margaret Parangosky nodded.
"We are heading there for reconnaissance; you are participating."
Now that is interesting.
"Permission to ask a question?" she nodded, "why us?"
Margaret Parangosky snorted.
"If you were human, I'd think you were afraid."
I flicked my tails.
"A Vice Admiral and an experimental AI rarely travel to systems forgotten by the universe without a small escort fleet."
Margaret Parangosky smirked.
"Then here is your answer. Right now, I only have two ships with such modifications. Moreover, the second captain doesn't have clearance to know about your existence. I don't wish to leave you unsupervised for long. So Dr. Halsey is flying on the second ship for her own mission. And mine is delivering you. Why? As you correctly noted, shields are present on the ships; we couldn't land on a single target. Yes, there were attempts. I need you to solve this problem as quickly as possible and with minimal damage; the complex is already damaged. You will be connected to drones and given the chance to accompany a marine squad."
That's where we should have started. Right, I need to think.
"There should be cargo terminals in the upper part. Likely where the black squid-like carcass is lying now. We'll have to go through it. I don't recommend turning off the shields; they protect the complex from the storm. The ships too."
Three hundred kilometers per hour of partially crystallized gas is not healthy for equipment. We need to find an entrance. As for the ships... We'll study the fallen one and figure it out.
"You have permission, Khaela, get ready."
Research, that's good.
***
Naturally, first there were ten days of flight. We worked through simulations with the marines, learned to act together. Made adjustments to the engine with the technicians; it's impossible to get everything right the first time. Many days of preparation, technical and routine work. The Vice Admiral spent them working with documents and studying what I gave her regarding this station and what can be understood from the ships. They are strange. I've never seen such a design; they are likely universal machines capable of acting as both a ship and super-heavy ground equipment. Why else would a ship have limbs, I don't know. Surely not to hit things with them in close combat.
"This is a very strange ship; it needs to be studied."
I'm in anticipation; technology of unknown design, unknown logic. This will definitely be a lot of new information.
"Could it be The Flood?"
I switched to Mathers, the ship's executive officer, also an ONI officer with clearance.
"Unlikely, First Officer. The Flood would have restored the ships long ago, assembled one from two. Or by other methods; they are smart enough. Leaving a ship that can be used for an attack is not their style. But dropping a damaged machine on the enemy's head is. So it's good the scout ship didn't perform a landing. We'll go down and find out what's there."
The man nodded.
"We'll send down a small group of ODST, in case of infection, plus your drone. If it really is The Flood down there, retreat. This ship—it's as if it was squeezed by a giant fist; there might simply be no way out inside."
The researchers will have to work. Good. But what hit it like that? Which is what I noted:
"I'm interested in the ship's damage. It's clearly gravitational impact, and from the inside. If the reaction occurred after the ship landed, the cable holding the station might be damaged. Not to mention that it will be a mess inside. I give it a ninety percent chance that we'll have to cut our way through. Including to the docking section."
I pulled up a diagram of the gas-gathering factory from memory. An octahedral factory hanging on a three-meter diameter cable made of a complex alloy. Collectors along the perimeter, a processing station in the center. Docking nodes in the upper part plus an elevator along the cable. Everything covered by fields. Now, everything below the upper third is simply cut off. What isn't cut off is surely damaged by shelling and the atmosphere. What the marines did inside also remains to be seen.
"What I told the Vice Admiral. Right now, it's more ruins than a building. The cargo terminals are blocked by the ship's carcass; the lower part is likely damaged by ship fire and the fact that there's no full shield there. The fact that there's a shield in the upper part is a good sign, but I expect that for millennia everything inside has been subjected to corrosion and damaged by crystallized gas."
The First Officer nodded.
"Plus, the possible presence of The Flood inside."
Yes, he also knows what to expect. We even held test battles here based on the capabilities of The Flood. If anything, the space marines should know how to defend themselves. So I agree here:
"In the best case, security robots or analogs of those who defended the building. In the worst, yes, The Flood. And defenders from the ship; perhaps the automation is still working."
Forerunner technology is quite durable. And then there was the landing. A frigate was allocated for docking—the one that discovered all this. How inconvenient it is that human ships are so slow. Bringing up equipment is long and difficult; we have to work with what's available right now. Initially, they wanted to send a couple of D77 Pelican transports, thirty-meter assault-drop machines with four engines. But the turbulence in the storm is too high; they simply wouldn't be able to dock.
So the scout frigate will act as a bridge, especially since a quick inspection confirmed: we need to cut. The explosion that crumpled the ship simply ground it up from the inside. My bot, used as a scout, made one ve-ery interesting conclusion.
"The ship is not designed for humanoid operation. I see no infrastructure for a crew."
Margaret Parangosky looked at me:
"Can you determine anything in this mess of debris?"
The avatar nodded.
"General structure. In the Forerunner Ecumene, besides the titular race, there were many satellites, including aquatic ones and inhabitants of gas worlds. They have very characteristic architecture, implying three-dimensional tunnels in which they can move. Tunnels to reduce the mass and volume of the involved medium. I don't see anything similar, unless this is a Huragok ship. But I've never seen anything like this."
Huragok are Forerunner biomechanoids, a floating blue-purple ball of flesh with protruding limbs and a head. But they are quite passive, and it seems to me they would build ships more characteristic of Forerunners than these. And why attack the factory? No answer. Many questions, and we'll get the answers soon. The cruiser's crew watches the docking through my bots and cameras; I'm interested too. The automation worked and locked the frigate near the station, even covered it with a shield.
"Right, docking functions are working."
Next, a bridge was extended from the frigate, and they landed on the unknown black ship. I'm on all communication lines at once, monitoring the bots, transmitting the picture, and answering questions. Marine channel:
"Hey, AI, whatever your name is. So this isn't a Forerunner ship, right?"
The bot snorted.
"Khaela, clown. No, not a Forerunner ship. I think it's a ship of someone who knows how to levitate. Inside, there aren't even hints of bridges and corridors. Either automation, or the masters of this ship are not limited to two dimensions."
Moving through the ground-up innards is easier on one hand—no airlocks, which speaks in favor of an automated ship. On the other hand, it's harder, as the bot has to cling to debris and equipment. Good thing it's small. Following the bot along the scouted path went the humans, laying and cutting their usual road. No atmosphere; everyone is in suits. Five soldiers in full armor are walking along the hull, and one of them is holding my robot. The second bot is inside the ship, mapping it. The soldiers are armed and dangerous.
"One hundred meters to the nearest airlock inside."
Well, "airlock"—a bent armor plate that came off its guide. Large enough to pass through.
"Huge," another soldier exhaled, "and the other two?"
From here, the squid carcass and the through-holes punched in it are visible. Two kilometers of dark metal. It's not even a frigate.
"We need to drag them away before turning off the shields."
I suggested that only automation is keeping them from falling into the storm.
Another junior. Communication channel: cruiser bridge.
These, like the Vice Admiral, are watching what's happening from the bot's cameras. They installed a repeater to provide communication without violating the core's protection. For me, this is an opportunity to monitor everything at once; I don't object.
"Khaela, over there on the left. What is that?"
Where? The bot jerked, squeezing through the metal. The hull is crumpled; we have to use a cutter, creating a map of the area. Good thing the metal doesn't destroy as easily as concrete or analogs. The structure is more stable. But a human won't pass; we'll have to work with robots. Not mine, perhaps; the locals will assemble more primitive analogs according to blueprints—actually, they're already assembling them. That's for later. But here we have limbs. Mummified. Interesting. It seems we've found life in space. And it's not trying to kill us for a change. Likely because it's already dead. But I don't recommend touching it.
"That's definitely a hand. Let's see."
The owner of the limb is sticking out of something resembling a honeycomb. Crushed above the waist, revealing multi-jointed limbs and a three-fingered paw with one opposed finger. Dirty-yellow flesh. Hard to say more; needs research. — Insectoid, looks like. Familiar? I shook my head and tails.
"No matches. Either a race from the edge of the Forerunner Ecumene or someone later. Could be infected by The Flood, I can't say; usually, the controlling organism stays in the nervous system, in the chest cavity. Too little information to draw conclusions."
"Good," Margaret Parangosky agreed, "take samples; the infantry won't get there soon. The scientists will figure it out."
Well, yes, they're only clearing the entrance. Since the aliens didn't bother to make convenient transitions for humans, they'll have to mount their own walkways from scrap materials. The robot approached the alien's body while I think about what to cut off it. Fleshy, pale-yellow matter overgrown with something. Looks like organics, but too old to draw conclusions. And the environment here is quite aggressive; this could be the result of decay. We'll cut the hand at the joint; it should be softer there. The robot gripped the limb and prepared the plasma cutter. Starting to cut. Good, the hand detached, splashing a purple goo that got on the robot too.
Warning. Viral interface connection.
Data transmission failure.
Who dares? Module analysis.
Report: viral code detected.
Right, where from? The bots are protected; the signal only comes from the core. Right, let's look for the source. Oh, what is this bluish liquid covering the bot? Interesting. And it has a response, energy. That's it—a defense system! Viral code transmission through the goo. Nanites? Interesting. Isolate the damaged blocks; I'll deal with them separately.
Warning. Signal lost for module 73.
Warning. Signal lost for module 16.
Stop! To the robot: eject energy cell.
Executed.
"Khaela! Report!" Oh, the humans noticed the bot's transmission screen went dark.
"The ship has a defense, Vice Admiral. Likely nanites, or something similar. It tried to connect to me during the cutting."
Margaret Parangosky clarified seriously:
"Damage?" — Two modules quarantined and isolated. I recommend not advancing deep into the ship and not working separately from the bots. I'll take care of writing software to identify the problem. And processing the attacked juniors. I have an order of magnitude more resources; I can determine countermeasures.
One of the main defense systems, the juniors. My shield against madness and enemies, good as always. And the humans got seriously nervous after the report of infection. They brought up equipment, started scanning everything. We managed to understand what it was when I reached the infected one with a bot. Anomalous energy readings in the substance covering the bot, the corpse, and even the ship's surface in places. Those who like to touch everything will be infected if this works on humans too. It's not impossible if they live in the creature's blood. No guarantee; tests are needed.
"Self-replicating nanites in the creature's blood. With extremely aggressive code."
The juniors had to be cracked for another two days; unfamiliar code in an unfamiliar language. For the first time in all my time here, I used all available power to work with both the infected code and the nanites. Together with Ajax, the ship's AI, we decided what to do with all this.
"This isn't my profile, but I'll do what I can. On our side is the fact that the nanites simply don't have the necessary computing power."
We can work with impunity, preparing the territory for humans and the possibility of using the nanites for our own purposes. Margaret Parangosky ordered it. It will take some time and many tests, but we'll manage. During this time, the humans installed a full bridge and assembled scanning equipment for themselves. Contact is needed for infection, plus the nanites emit energy. They can be found. A half-measure, I know. If the nanites get into the organism, it won't help. But tracking the passage on material is possible.
Otherwise, standard precautions: scanning everything that can be scanned and delivering materials only one way and only after quarantine. Margaret Parangosky, having received good news, gave the go-ahead to advance deep into the complex, especially since I fixed the bot. It's still bad to have a limited number of fast ships.
"We'll help with reconnaissance, make sure there's no danger, and leave. We have a lot to do. The stationary unit will arrive soon; it will replace our ship."
She's not disappointed, I think. After all, unknown technologies and a combat nanovirus. Meanwhile, we can head into the depths. Information awaits us, which, since the complex is working, can be scraped from the Forerunner computers. We need to understand what this was, if possible.
***
Read the story months before public release — early chapters are on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan