Winning Peace - Chapter 39 (Patreon)

I'd like to say that I could have stopped what happened next.

It was certainly within my power to stop what I estimated was likely to occur, but it also would have involved the kind of intercession that would have made the presence of a third party very, very obvious to even the most myopic observer. There comes a point when mechanical errors and digital glitches just become too coincidental, after all, and having those occur both in my presence and to a potential enemy fleet just now arriving...

Well, there were lines even I couldn't cross without repercussions.

Specifically, the line between becoming too scary to fuck with and too scary to let live.

Being able to step onboard an alien spacecraft and fuck with their systems internally after a few short days of study was an awe-inspiring feat of technological and personal ability. Some of it I could blame on the fact that for all the turian systems were 'alien' they were also based on the same fifty-thousand year old prothean systems that most of the Citadel digital architecture had evolved from. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility for me to argue that a suitably-capable genius could make leaps of logic and understanding to bridge the gap between such things.

Oh, the subject matter experts would call bullshit, no doubt. They would actually know what both I and they were talking about and know how to refute my arguments, but for all of humanity's increased digital fluency as a species, we still had the same tendency to ignore the advice of the IT Guy.

 ...and, again, people like to argue that I've changed humanity too much.

Really.

Even if I was able to make the same arguments about the New Prothean Empire's fleet, it would be much more transparently false given the scale I would have to operate on. Oh, tampering with an alien's holo-projector a few days after encountering it was impressive, but managing to cripple an alien fleet using what amounts to 'magic hacking powers' would earn me more than just awe.

It would earn me fear.

There were still things I needed to be able to do in the public consciousness as Ezekiel Lopez, such that I couldn't quite afford to so badly burn my identity. Moreover, I had a wife and child now. Something like this situation had given me pause in the first days after Sasha and I had reconnected, but I'd accepted that one day I would have to face the consequences of my choices.

That day was today.

So when the New Prothean Empire's fleet crossed the 314 relay pair into the Shanxi system, I kept my hand off the scales and allowed chance and probability to decide the course of history going forward. Even as human communication personnel attempted to relay orders to stand down to the arriving ships, using the repaired algorithm and the turian files on the prothean language, it was already too late. Neurons in the prothean Admiral's head ignited, words were spoken, and a course of action that would affect trillions of sentients was brought into existence.

The Empire's ships fired.

 As I watched the first volley of antimatter missiles fire, the result was a foregone conclusion. Even if the turian officers were anxiously waiting for results beside me, I had eyes and ears in systems that were far more advanced than their own, with many of my students having directed one or more of their threads of thought to paying attention to the historical events ongoing at the fringe of human space.

[LOL get rekt Prothean bitches.]

 [|=|_|(|<]

[Please pick a human language, Dude. I know we're post-human entities beyond the understanding of normies, but even we have standards.]

[! |)[] \|/#/-\'|' ! \|//-\|\|'|'!]

[Fine, 'do what you want,' that doesn't mean we have to interact with you while you're doing it.]

[Can we please get back to the massive alien fleet getting bombed into its constituent particles by antimatter ordinance?]

[FFS – the turians were able to chill out and talk, why can't these assholes?]

I sighed and entered a response. Hopefully, one of them would disseminate it properly.

[It comes down to mindset. The turian fleet understood that they were traveling into unknown territory and mentally prepared themselves for unexpected outcomes as best as they could. While they weren't truly ready for what they found, that state of mind allowed them to better evaluate potential outcomes.

The Prothean Empire, on the other hand, came in chasing prey. They expected violent resistance no matter the outcome and did not ready themselves with a flexible mindset. Particularly, they likely expected an ambush and were ready to fire on anything that achieved a target-lock even without orders. If you look at reference frames I-16 & T-89 from the monitoring stealth observer platforms HJK & WER respectively, you can see a few of their heavy cruisers beginning to launch shells within milliseconds of the orders being issued to the fleet.]

[THE PROPHET SPEAKS! WE LISTEN!]

I rolled my eyes internally. The only thing that stopped me from disciplining that particular idiot was that his gimmick was half-roleplay. The other half made me decidedly uncomfortable, but given all my attempts to convince him I wasn't a divine messenger or divinity itself had failed, my options were to either edit his code or tolerate shenanigans I didn't enjoy.

And considering the lessons I had imparted to my students, I was understandably loathe to do the former.

[Yeah, Doc, that checks out. Still a shame, though. It means humanity is going to be at war with the Prothean Empire pretty soon.]

[Only about a one-in-three odds of that happening. Even with the loss of a full fleet, the NPE seems to have some people who know their shit at the helm. A Cold War is much more likely.]

[Maybe in the raw probabilities, but it'll be a Cold War INO. The NPE are known to use third-party mercs and 'pirate' fleets as deniable assets to evaluate defenses and plan campaigns. Like what the batarians do, but less stupid.]

[Like being less-stupid than the batarians is a high bar.]

[Truth. Be easier to list the species/governments that are more stupid.]

As the conversation drifted off-topic, I turned the fullness of my attention back to the forming debris field that used to be a New Prothean Empire fleet.

“Spirits,” Admiral Gratus breathed.

Captain Orolienus performed the turian equivalent of a grimace as he checked the feed from his omnitool. “We're not receiving any transmissions from the fleet. Normally, there'd be a great deal of communication traffic between independent vessels to coordinate their defense. Dr. Lopez, if you could explain...”

“Minovsky particles,” I replied shortly, folding my hands behind my back as I stood next to them watching the wall-sized display of the ongoing 'battle' as a few ships attempted to fleet and were confronted with fighter wings and chariots deploying their contingents of mobile suits. “They're an artificial byproduct of one of the types of reactors we deploy. They perturb electromagnetic waves traveling through an area populated by them beyond a certain density. Most importantly in this situation, they have a nasty habit of crippling radio communication grids.”

Both turians looked at each other with that revelation, their eyes wider than usual.

“That's-ah, a rather substantial advantage. I suppose the only remedy would be to deploy point-to-point laser communications,” Admiral Gratus stated, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “Or, failing that, I suppose falling back to basic light-pattern signaling with code.”

“The latter would work, admittedly,” I stated with the slightest grin as the lead dreadnought finally exhausted its shields and took a direct blow amidships, the denotation breaking the vessel nearly in half. It was a testament to exactly how tough the protheans were building them that they could take that much punishment.

However, the ship did not survive the second or third hits nearly as well.

“And the former?” Admiral Gratus asked, looking out the side of his gaze to me, unwilling to completely ignore the sight of the 'battle' going on in front of us.

I opened my mouth to reply-

“Dr. Lopez, I'll remind you that these are military technologies you're divulging the details of. Particularly to a non-allied and largely unknown foreign military officer,” Chief Mate Conroy chimed in, her voice disapproving.

I waved her off. “Military technology which is both widely known and the secondary effects of which are public knowledge given the majority of what we've discussed is also in use by the civilian sector.”

Conroy, who thought herself to be out of my field of vision, looked as though she'd bitten into a lemon.

“We wouldn't want to infringe on your people's goodwill...” Orolienus cleared his throat cautiously.

“It's fine. I'll make sure they blame me if there's trouble,” I stated casually as we watched a frigate shatter into shrapnel no larger than a surfboard. “At any rate, my people's secondary reactor systems for our vessels is something known as a 'ahab reactor' or an 'ahab wave generator.' While in one configuration, it distorts local space-time in a way that's similar to, but distinct from element zero, creating a false gravity well within the ship that simulates artificial gravity to our homeworld's standard. In another configuration, it can be 'tuned' to use these waves to produce energy instead. Conventionally, they're left on their gravity well setting to ensure that we do not need to waste valuable supplies of element zero on generating gravity for our ships.”

There was a sharp intake of breath from the two military men, no doubt rapidly realizing the implications. In a galaxy where naval power and projection was bottle-necked at the supply of a specific resource, freeing up any amount of that self same resource would be an invaluable logistical boon. Even just shaving ten percent off a drive core's size would mean an extra vessel of those same dimensions for every ten-count you already possessed.

“I know it's far too soon to begin inquiring about technological exchanges,” Admiral Gratus began leadingly, “but I will make you aware that such technologies will be of significant interest to our leaders. Especially given the likelihood of the Empire attempting an assault on your territories, you could easily ask for a full alliance should you wish it.”

I chuckled, nodding even as yet more ships exploded. “The secondary effect of these ahab reactors, though, is that the waves they give off, when tuned to the purpose, can disrupt point-to-point laser communications.”

Admittedly, that wasn't canon for IBO, but it was a neat little application I'd been able to build into my own versions. Given what was out there, I thought humanity needed every leg up they could get that wouldn't make them too threatening to tolerate their existence.

Again, there was a line between too scary to fuck with, and too scary to let live.

Which meant no mega-structure, no stellar-level WMDs, nothing that would require another civilization to preemptively attack less they wait for their own destruction at the hands of humanity. Technological lures aplenty, though, to entice trade and diplomacy while making them an incredibly difficult nut to crack. I'd also shaped the culture here and there with odd eccentricities, such as the Mobile Suits.

Realistically, they weren't very good weapons. They were inefficient killing machines on a battlefield defined by proportional casualties and the cold calculus of killing as many of them while losing as few of yours as you possibly could. They were over-engineered monstrosities that could only exist because I'd made material science my personal bitch.

But they were also works of art in the guise of war machines.

My eyes tracked an Epyon Gundam getting into a dogfight with a light cruiser that'd escaped the confused melee and, against all rational considerations, winning.

Giant mechanical warriors, standing tall in the likeness of humanity even after we were nearly obliterated by ourselves time and again.

They made people believe, again. Hope, once again. Look forward, facing the future, once again.

“Then, the empire's ships...” Captain Orolienus stated slowly, dawning horror in his voice as he watched the utter chaos of the battlefield with new eyes.

“The downside is that we are unable to pick up signals for the surrender of enemy vessels,” the human navigation officer stated unhappily, his expression grim. “We'll do our best to save who we can after the ships are disabled, but once we begin flooding the area with minovsky particles and tune our ahab wave generators properly, the only result can be one side's utter destruction. It's why our fleets and doctrine are couched in a defensive strategy. Humanity, and the rachni and accosians for that matter, do not want war, but any who bring it to our doorstep will be sure to regret that mistake.”

“For however long they have left to live, at least,” Conroy stated decisively, scowling at the aggressive, expansionist fleet now in human space getting torn apart.

“Regardless,” I stated, clapping my hands together softly. “I am afraid that technological exchanges of the level which you are asking for are unlikely in the near future. The scope and scale along are daunting, considering humanity would have to disclose a great many manufacturing secrets that could then be vulnerable to espionage unless we have an opportunity to properly vet your systems. I mean no offense, of course, but from your First Contact files, both the Citadel and Empire have had ample time to study your people, militaries, and your research and development methodologies. This is on top of the fact that, in a war of this scale, at least some of our weapons are bound to fall into enemy hands at some point, which will turn off a great many of the more conservative factions within the Stellar Council and Systems Alliance.”

The turian officers exchanged an understanding, if very disheartened look.

I could imagine. Back in the aftermath of the Short War, if someone had waggled the solution to preventing the deaths of billions in my face without letting me have it, I would have been much more vocal about my unhappiness than they were right now.

I cleared my throat. “It's the unfortunate truth that you're much, much more likely to find a cache of ancient alien weapons to give you a technological and industrial edge in the immediate future instead of expecting this kind of exchange to go through within the next... five years or so.”

I keyed up a holographic image.

“Specifically, I'd look for such a cache... here. Just, something of a hunch on my part, you understand?” I grinned at the two turians, tapping the desolate world in question. It was a secure system without an active relay connection to any other galactic polity, just completely uninhabited due to the relative dearth of easily exploited resources.

 There was a long moment of silence, where both the turians and humans beside me attempted to ferret out what I was saying.

“I... I'm sorry, Dr. Lopez, but do you mean to say that-” Chief Mate Conroy began slowly.

“I mean exactly what I said,” I stated, clearing my throat pointedly. “I just have... a gut feeling about there being relics of an ancient and forgotten society there. Something that, in no way, could possibly be linked to any technology that I could have possibly released to either the Stellar Council or the Systems Alliance and would, therefore, not be protected under any secrecy agreements I remain under as a former minister.”

Hoshino made a long groaning noise and pressed a pair of fingers to the bridge of his nose.

“I'm not entirely sure what all of this is about...” Gratus looked between us. The two senior officers behind me looking some combination of exasperated and dreading what was to come when they returned to their commanding officer. “But if you mean to say there's some kind of technological cache on this world... well, anything that will help my people in our struggle against the Empire is worthy of the utmost thanks.”

“Which I don't deserve, because it's not my technology.” I stated pointedly, turning to look him in the eye. “Again, this is just a gut feeling I have that you should search that planet in particular. Besides, since it's not my technology, it's probably not as good as anything I actually cooked up, so don't worry about it.”

“I... see...” Gratus stated, in the tone of a man who very much did not see.

…

Darius Alsworth stood stock still as the battle wound down, his eyes narrow as he took in the aftermath of the engagement. Virtually every ship the Empire had sent had been crippled or outright destroyed. Truthfully, it could barely be called a battle. It was more like a massacre. The only damage on his side of the line were less than threel hundred destroyed mine-launching platforms, some damaged fighters, and a few scuffed mobile suits.

Only a handful of the ships under his command had even gotten to fire a shot in anger, their powerful energy weapons obliterating the few ships that dared make a suicidal charge towards their formation.

Regardless, the threat had passed.  Now it was time for the cleanup.

Alsworth cleared his throat.  “Cease all active and passive jamming and begin rescue operations.”

His orders were repeated and swiftly followed through on as officer Swanson approached, saluting as he stopped a respectful distance away. “Sir, a preliminary report from our contact team. It's good news... mostly.”

“Mostly?” Alsworth asked, his lips turning downwards just a bit as his implants received the file and he began to peruse it.

“I'm afraid it's Lopez again, sir,” Swanson stated with an equally severe frown, which lightened briefly for a second. “And congratulations, sir. The promotion's been a long time in coming.”

The newly-minted Admiral allowed himself a momentary smile as he nodded towards his subordinate. “Thank you, officer, I – HE DID WHAT?!”

~~~

Here we go! Next chapter out and the last of July!

(Yes, I know I'm an hour or so late, but it's still July on the Pacific coast, so that's how we're remembering it.)

Anyway, I'll have the August poll out in a short while, so look for that.

Next post will be the Code Geass epilogue I promised, likely sometime Saturday and then I'll probably start work on an update for The New Ron. It needs some attention.