Chapter 3. Echoes of a bygone era
"So, request for a meeting with Eklin Incorporated... the asari military... the salarians... slag, more slag. Batarians? And fuck them." I looked through hundreds of daily letters, requests, messages and other spam from companies, corporations and various individuals trying to establish contact with a mysterious scientist with interesting technologies - Gordon Freeman.
Wait, Binery Helix? Something familiar... The Bayneri Helix Corporation is a promising private Azarian company engaged in genetic engineering and biotechnology. It's interesting, but I didn't seem to want to start creating my new body yet... although... the main shareholder is a certain Benezia T'Soni, interesting. Well, I still wanted to start studying the biology of the local intelligent races, so that later I could instill the best features into my living body when I create it... if possible. In general, why not start the process now, in parallel with the search for Reaper technology? At the same time I will meet an interesting person.
But first, let's drop by another excavation of the ruins of the Protheans - the race of the previous cycle, on the basis of the technologies of which the other intelligent races of this cycle built their civilizations. At first I bought from the Shadow Broker - the most famous, powerful and mysterious information merchant, data on the excavations of Prothean ruins and newly discovered technologies, but later I began to pay him with my own assessment of these technologies. So it's cheaper for me and more useful for him: sometimes some of the most useful samples disappear and end up in the clutches of the Intermediary, where he either studies them or sells them for millions of credits.
Of course, I don't tell the Mediator everything, and I pocket some technologies myself for deeper study, although it is very difficult to do this unnoticed, and therefore I do this extremely rarely.
Having flown to the excavation site of a private Azari company on a snowy planet on the outskirts of the Termina systems and donned a spacesuit to hide my synthetic nature, I descended on a shuttle to the archaeologists' camp, leaving my cruiser hanging in orbit.
"How strange, where did everyone go?" he noted aloud the desolation of the camp. —This is the first time this has happened to me.—.
But I'm not here to look for missing archaeologists, so without bothering too much I headed to the snow-covered entrance to the cave, around which the excavation equipment was located.
"Damn, we still need to update the platform and install repulsors on it for flight." He cursed out loud, falling into the snow up to his mid-thigh.
Still, this planet is really a very cold planet: -114 degrees, they are forced to wear special spacesuits for working in such conditions, and I am in a simple spacesuit. Although I am an AI, I can be in extreme conditions for some time without critical damage to the platform, but organics would already get frostbite without suitable equipment.
Having cleared the entrance and got inside, I found the first archaeologist... or rather, his frozen corpse. Right at the entrance, covered with a crust of ice, a figure stood frozen in a massive spacesuit for working in extreme conditions. Apparently the energy for heating ran out and the poor asari froze to death right in her archaeological spacesuit designed for working in extreme conditions.
Inside the cave it was two times warmer than outside, but it was still damn cold for organics. The cave itself was partially cleared of ice and bore characteristic traces of Prothean architecture. Residential complex? Bunker? Research complex? Something other? It doesn't matter, but the very strange death of a specialist clearly trained to work in such extreme conditions and the disappearance of the rest of the group shows that they dug up something dangerous, and dangerous archaeological artifacts with a high probability may turn out to be artifacts of the Reapers. I hope at least this time I'm lucky and it's really so, otherwise the Prothean artifacts are already sitting in my liver. Well, they would sit if I had livers.
The complex's shaft turned out to be quite deep and went down at an angle of 120 degrees for fifty meters. And already inside the passage branched, revealing something similar to a research complex.
"Incredible, this is a find worth hundreds of millions, even billions of credits." I was surprised to note an entire Prothean lighthouse - part of the Prothean communication network, and at the same time a container for the Prothean VI with a Prothean database about their culture and technology.
Prothean beacons are found quite rarely, but one such discovery can advance the technology of the civilization that found it hundreds of years into the future and provide a head start over other races. In general, trade in Prothean artifacts is prohibited by law and all found artifacts, and especially beacons, must be transferred to the Citadel Council, so that the luminaries of science belonging to the council extract all possible information from the beacon and share them with all races of the Citadel. But seriously, who wouldn't give up an advantage over the rest?
In addition to Prothean technology, there was a strange black sphere here, sending strange signatures that were almost undetectable outside the complex, but in themselves were incredibly powerful, they would definitely reach the nearest relay. Apparently the complex was built in such a way as to jam all possible signals from the inside, because I was never able to reach my cruiser "Machiavelli".
But the strangest thing in this area is the waves of psi energy emitted outside with a certain coding and the bodies of dead asari in spacesuits around her, caught in kneeling positions. Apparently the artifact brainwashed the archaeologists, and so thoroughly that they forgot about maintaining their own spacesuits and simply froze to death when the spacesuits ran out of energy for heating.
I had to drag myself back and call my mech crew from orbit. This is not my first expedition and low temperatures would not surprise me, so the mechs were equipped with an additional heating system, and for me they brought a spacesuit with heating more reliably.
In addition to standard bots, I created several more models, among which the "Driller" stood out. Massive, two and a half meters tall, this model was created to clear ruins from rubble, formed rocks and ice, with which it is assisted by tenacious manipulator claws, powerful servos and lasers installed in the upper limbs.
A hundred mechs, working tirelessly and not particularly caring about the preservation of the pristine appearance of the Prothean ruins, quickly cleared them of ice and debris, and Prothean technology carefully folded them and packed them into shipping containers. I didn't even have to control them, the VI program I wrote for them did everything on its own, I only had to stop it a couple of times so that they wouldn't hit the Prothean beacon.
That's exactly what I was doing while the mechs were working, namely, connecting to the beacon's electronics and trying to penetrate its database. In general, Prothean beacons transmit information through psionics, which their creators were apparently gifted with; modern races only have biotics. So, information through the beacon is transmitted directly to consciousness, and a touch is enough to activate, but this is typical only for organic life forms; for synthetics, access to beacons is not provided and I had to connect to it directly. Only then did the lighthouse try to establish contact with me. And installed it! Apparently the soul is a priority thing for psionics than the body. Well, my weak technopathy, which allowed me to become a semblance of AI, played a role.
Lucky! Inside the lighthouse, in addition to messages warning about the Reapers' invasion, drawings of some of their technologies were stored. More durable and lighter alloys, more powerful EM cores, the principles of Reaper weapons, etc. Apparently this was a complex for studying the Reapers when they had already attacked the Protheans.
I consider the most useful warning about the presence of a dead Reaper found nearby by the Protheans and the danger of intoxication. Well, I'm not afraid of being stupefied, because it's quite easy for an experienced magician of the mind, even one without magic, to protect himself from simple psionic signals. This is dangerous only for ordinary people, and for organics, whose nervous system will be gradually depressed by aggressive psi signals. For synthetics, the only danger is a direct cyber attack, or nanites. But the nanites are helped by periodic discharges of current across the platform, frying tiny cars, and I dare to hope that I can cope with a cyber attack on my own.
However, I achieved what I wanted: I found not just Reaper technology, but the Reaper himself! Well, I potentially found it. It is also necessary to take into account the movement of the celestial bodies of the system where it remained and the displacement of the Reaper in space due to the magnetic fields of the planet's satellite, in whose orbit it was left, and it is also possible that it was found and dismantled before me! Although no, given the powerful psychic influence on organic life forms exerted by the Reapers even in a passive state, this is very unlikely.
In general, there is a lot of work; in one expedition I received months of continuous mental work, but I am satisfied. Oh-oh, I'm just incredibly pleased, because I'm one step closer to acquiring a normal body of flesh and blood, capable of not only existing, but living.
***
"The remaining flight time is three hours, I think I can already "change my suit." I muttered out loud to myself to at least a little dispel the dead silence, otherwise I'm just among the silent bots and droids on my cruiser.
It won't take long for you to go crazy.
Without differing from his own words, he walked to his work table, to one of them, on which, already disassembled, lay a synthetic platform, outwardly looking like a handsome human man of 20-25 years old. But this is only externally, under a layer of synthetic skin that completely replicates real organic skin, there was a metal body, synthetic muscles, artificial organs, and in the very center of the body two small EM cores, one of which lightens the weight of the platform and allows the use of weak biotic abilities, and the second serves as a source energy. It is worth noting that it was very difficult to achieve synchronous operation of two cores so that they do not interfere with each other.
This platform perfectly hides my synthetic nature, has its own fingerprints, retina and even imitates breathing and the digestive system; synthetic internal organs can contain food and utilize it, but alas, cannot digest it to generate energy.
I created it exclusively for communication with organics, because sometimes it is necessary to meet them face to face, so to speak. Like, for example, when registering my company "FreeMen Armory", when concluding a partnership agreement with "Haliat Armory" or, as now, for "going out", to a social party organized by a distant relative of one salarian dalatress - the leader of a salarian clan, right in orbit their home planet Sur'Kesh inside an expensively furnished space station.
It was there that I decided to meet the still matron Benezia, and getting a pass to this event was not difficult. My trading partner and at the same time the general director of Khaliat Armory, Bartus Khaliat, is only glad to meet once again with his "most valuable asset." Still, it was only because of my technologies, which give a head start to other weapons companies, that his corporation rose from the mediocre to the top echelon and became a guarantor of quality.
Hovering in the orbit of the planet, like some of today's guests, I landed on the station's landing platform on the shuttle of my ship, where I was already greeted by a courteous salarian receptionist.
Salarians are a short-lived race of warm-blooded amphibians with an extremely high metabolic rate. Tall, but very thin and flexible, these frogs boast quick thinking (three times faster than humans) and the need for only one hour of sleep per day for proper rest. All this is ensured by a special, denser structure of the brain and a high level of metabolism, but for the sake of this opportunity they sacrifice a short life span, only forty years for the average individual. In addition to their thinness, the salarians' distinguishing features are large, bulging black eyes and two antenna horns.
"Gordon Freeman." He presented his electronic pass to the salarian via the instrumenttron and, after his nod, entered the hall.
Hmmm, so many xenos in one place: salarians, turians, elcors, volus, hanar. There are even a couple of krogans as guards, which is surprising, these lizards really don't like salarians. Oh, but the asari decorate this event, beautiful blue women, it's a pity that I can't take advantage of the situation yet and have to make do with only the aesthetic pleasure of seeing beautiful aliens.
-Gordon? Gordon? Oh spirits, you really came, I didn't think that you would really appear here, considering how busy you are." The slightly rasping voice of the approaching Turanian distracted me.
By the way, these turians look like humanoid cockroaches, with a spur coming out of the shin and three-fingered limbs, like quarians. And like quarians, turians' bodies are made of dextroamino acid proteins, so human or asari food is not suitable for them. The entire body of turians is covered with hard bone plates, their teeth are long and sharp, and they also have movable mandibles on their face, like some insects. It is thanks to the movement of the mandibles that one can track any reaction and emotions of a turian, because otherwise it is almost impossible to track any reaction on the face of a turian due to the plates covering the faces of these xenos.
Such a stormy appearance of a turian attracted a lot of attention to me, yet I am the only one here who looks like a human, a curiosity for the races of the Citadel. Well, I couldn't bring myself to create a shell that didn't look good to me. I don't want to become a frog or a cockroach, even outwardly, so the salarians and turians fly by, the krogans, like the quarians, are not respected by the races of the Citadel space, and the asari have no men. The rest of the races are not even considered, so the choice is from an unknown person.
"Hello, Bartus, good to see you." I shook the hand of the xenos who approached me, but judging by the fluttering of his mandibles, he again went too far and squeezed too hard.
"Still the same strong grip as I remember," the turian remarked cheerfully, shaking his palm slightly. -Spirits, why are we standing? Since you have once again taken a break from studying Prothean artifacts and ventured out into the "light," let me introduce you to the host of the evening...—.
And then Bartus dragged me to all the big shots, be they politicians, businessmen, directors of news publications and other cream of society. The most tedious part of this event, even my internal systems briefly shortened and a small bundle of synthetic muscles on my face began to constantly contract, manifesting itself externally as a nervous tic. I quickly fixed it, but you have to manage to make the synthetic tick nervously!
But what was even more infuriating was that every xenos at this evening decided that it was his duty to come up and meet a representative of a hitherto unknown species. Fortunately, at least I still met a person who scared all kinds of xenos away from me and kept me in pleasant company at the event.
—And this is Matron Benezia T'Soni, the main shareholder of the young and promising corporation "Binery Helix" specializing in...—.
"Genetic engineering and biotechnology," interrupted the turian's verbiage when introducing the beautiful asari and continued, barely bowing his head. —Fascinated. You know, I don't like such events, but your presence alone makes up for all the inconveniences and troubles that I had to endure due to my appearance at this evening.—.
In response to my undisguised flattery, Benezia just laughed and gave me a smile and suggested moving away from the bulk of those present.
The Azari are the most beautiful race that has entered space at the moment. Of all the intelligent races, they are the closest to humans in terms of appearance, they also have smooth skin, a humanoid structure, two arms and two legs, and the limbs themselves end in five fingers. The facial features are also very similar to human ones, but then there are differences. All asari do not have any hair and instead of hair, the back of the skull is covered with skin-covered cartilage that fits tightly to the head, forming a crest. Asari skin is blue, although shades can vary from turquoise to purple. The asari nervous system has a cellular system, due to which their youth and longevity are maintained by constant cell regeneration. As a result, asari live for about a thousand years, which, coupled with natural biotics, makes them the most biologically gifted known intelligent race.
Well, and most importantly, all asari are women and for reproduction they connect their nervous system with the nervous system of their partner through electromagnetic pulses upon contact with the skin and read the genetic information of their lover, after which they use it as a map for mutations of their own DNA and, as a result, asari are always born asari.
"So, Mr. Freeman," Benezia began the conversation, leaning forward a little and opening up a beautiful view of the blue hollow between her elastic hemispheres.
"Just Gordon." He smiled at the girl and put a rather large berry, similar to blue grapes, into his mouth.
"Gordon, forgive me for my curiosity, but I'm wondering what species you belong to?" Benezia asked and took a sip from the glass in her hand, while a drop of the drink fell right on her collarbone and rolled lower, attracting my attention.
Yes, they are openly seducing me! And I cannot be tempted due to the lack of an organic body... damn it! We urgently need to resolve this issue.
"In fact, I have no idea what race I am; for as long as I can remember, I lived as a slave in a batarian colony in one of the Terminal systems and escaped only thirteen years ago," he began to tell his legend.
Moreover, in a gesture of sympathy, Benezia put her hand on my leg. Directly on the thigh, to the place where a normal man should have a penis. Like pouring salt into a wound.
Actually, I spent the entire evening with Benezia, having fun, jokingly sharing my stories with each other, I steadfastly ignored all the attentions of the asari, who, either because of her unusual appearance, or out of sporting interest, tried to drag me into bed and almost didn't hang around my neck.
"Thank you for such a pleasant evening Benezia, this day is the second best day of my life, but I need to go." He planted a kiss on the smooth skin of her hand without taking his eyes off the woman.
And I didn't even lie, this day really turned out to be the best after finding the Prothean complex. And since my whole life mainly consists of routine, there is nowhere for good emotions to come from.
"Will we see you again?" Benezia asked impulsively, whose cheeks had clearly darkened a couple of shades from excitement or the alcohol she had drunk during the evening.
- I'm only happy to do so. Shall we exchange contacts? — he turned on his instrument, after which Benezia herself immediately turned on hers to exchange numbers. —By the way, I wanted to place an order from Binery Helix. I need genetic maps of representatives of all intelligent races of the galaxy.—.
"Mmm, okay, I'll write to you when the order is ready," the asari noted my request in her tooltron.
-You can just write like that. See you later, Binesia." He smiled one last time at his new acquaintance and went to his cruiser.
Things are not waiting, and information about the possible location of the dead Reaper is burning my hand, so no matter how wonderful company Benezia is, it's really time for me to go. Yes, and without a normal body, alas, nothing will break off for me.
So, saying goodbye to Bartus and handing him a drawing of a new plasma shotgun, which fires hollow shells filled with gas, which when fired is ionized by an electric current and turns into plasma (a killer thing, albeit an expensive one, well, "Get Armory" and "Haliat Armory" have already proven themselves as manufacturers of elite and expensive weapons), I headed to the ship. A lot of work awaits me and analysis of the found Prothean archives.
***
Annos Basin, Pranas system, space station in orbit of the planet Sur'Kesh "Will of Cantenella". After Gordon Freeman left.
"Hmm." Benezia sighed once again, sweeping her gaze over the motley crowd.
"Why are you sad?" another blue woman sat down next to the asari. -Did someone really manage to escape from your clutches?—.
"Leave me alone." Etita waved her friend away and emptied her glass again.
"Did it really hurt your pride that much?" Things won't work out that way and I know how to dispel your blues. See that cute turian? This is General Cretus, and most recently the turian troops under his command carried out a successful attack on a large cell of slave traders, for which the general was presented with another award. But is a mark in your personal file and a medal a real reward? So we'll fix this and truly reward Cretus," Aethita whispered languidly, moving her eyebrow ridges meaningfully, but not noticing the interest in her friend's eyes, she continued. -Wait, did you fall in love with that guy? Yes, he is exotic, but still...—.
"Don't talk nonsense." Benezia also arched her brow. -We just met. And yet he is much more interesting than any of these thoroughly rotten politicians or stupid martinets.—.
After such rhetoric, Etita was really surprised, and then leaned close to her friend, sniffed it and winced.
-All clear with you. Let's go Beni." Etita grabbed her friend by the waist and forced her to stand, leading her to her aircar, which would take her to a reserved hotel room on Sur'Kesh. —You clearly need to wake up.—.