# Rebirth: The Mass Effect. Book 1. part 1.2

Аноним Nytare

Briefing with Naylus and Captain Anderson. a conversation before disembarking.

A tall Turian man was waiting for me in the briefing room. Well hello, Spectr Nihlus Kraik. Let's see what you're like in reality.

I hope this conversation will give me an opportunity to evaluate you and make a decision. I'm going to save your life if Imrir Shepard made a mistake in her assessment, or I'm going to let the story run its course if she was right and you really are the arrogant, frostbitten bastard everyone on the ship thinks you are.

Stopping at the entrance to the hall, I leaned against the wall, carefully studying the Turian standing with his back to me. I have only one opportunity to form an opinion about this reasonable: a short conversation before landing on the ill-fated Eden Prime until Captain Anderson arrives in the briefing room. Let's see what I can learn in that time. Right now, mentalism is not available to me, and I will have to evaluate it the old-fashioned way.

As soon as I started analyzing, the recipient's memory immediately unleashed a wave of negativity and suspicion towards the Spectr, which suddenly found itself on board an experimental ship with some kind of incomprehensible task. In principle, I can understand the girl: Nihlus' appearance is extremely exotic for a person who has never seen a Turian in person, he holds himself with a degree of arrogance and coldness, cutting off any possibility of contact, and the hot-tempered Shepard, following xenophobia and the memory of the recent conflict, openly disliked the powerful stranger, although she observed strict polite neutrality.

What do I know about this man? Nihlus Kraik, a friend or student of my imaginary enemy Saren Arterius. He is practical, cruel, and merciless, although he does not reach Arterius either in cruelty or in this very ruthlessness. He treats people with cautious benevolence. According to him, he nominated my recipient as a candidate to join the Special Corps. He'll die on Eden Prime, shot in the back of the head by Saren.

Or he won't die.

Two intelligent people from my environment will die on this planet: Jenkins and Kraik. The first one catches a shot from a Geth drone, the second one catches the same thing from an admired mentor, whom he trusts infinitely. So limitless that he will turn his back in a militant and frankly alarming situation. Only one person can survive. It's elementary to save Jenkins, it's almost impossible to save Kraik, but their influence on events directly depends on the static fate. Corporal Leeroy Jenkins is a young soldier eager to prove himself and earn fame, heroic, dangerous with his enthusiasm and complete lack of experience. It's completely useless to me. Nihlus Kraik is a Board member with extensive experience and huge connections, my direct supervisor, who will have to prepare me as a full-fledged Spectr. It's not difficult to make a choice if you turn a blind eye to the ethics of such a choice.

I could barely contain my laughter.

Ethics. The moral. Humanity. How quickly it all died in me, once I got into a second life. The caste-based religious patriarchal society quickly showed the naive me the true face of my native race and knocked out the enthusiasm of *hitting*.

It was a cruel lesson, but it was very useful. I stood and stared at the alien's back. He noticed me. I couldn't help but notice. But he didn't turn around, looking at the holographic screen showing a living planet shrouded in a haze of clouds. He waited and gave me the opportunity to start the conversation first.

It's a healthy decision on his part. My recipient is a hot-tempered and somewhat suspicious person, and Nihlus' behavior smacked of arrogance and complete indifference to others, which wildly infuriated Imrir and caused hostility among other crew members. They didn't call him anything but *arrogant freak* on the ship. Funnily enough, Nihlus knew this perfectly well: Turians have surprisingly sensitive hearing, and he simply couldn't help but hear a whisper behind his back.

The restraint of the Spectr commanded respect.

Time is time.

It's time to get to know each other personally.

Detaching myself from the wall, I slowly approached the Turian, stopping a meter and a half away from him, without crossing the boundaries of my personal space. He turned around, bowed his head slightly in greeting. I responded in the same way, frankly surprising the alien, who did not expect anything like this from me.

"Commander Shepard." Nihlus's voice turned out to be low, deep, with a slight metallic tinge and a barely audible vibrating rumble, as if a huge cat was speaking. And why was the recipient so freaked out? A surprisingly pleasant voice. "It's good that you came first. We'll have a chance to talk."

I tilted my head to the side, looking with interest at the man slowly pacing in front of me. That's the first logical, expected difference between the real world and the game that gave rise to it.: no matter how living beings are described in canon history, no matter what appearance they are given, but nature will always do as IT deems necessary, and this rule has never been violated in any embodied reality, even in the craziest. Sometimes the appearance and physiology of living beings differed quite significantly from what was described, observing only a general similarity.

The example was pacing in front of me.

The Turian is a tall, about two meters tall, well-built humanoid. The figure is powerful, but surprisingly slender and flexible. A similar illusion was created by a thin waist, narrow hips and long strong legs, and the peculiarity of a cat's step: without full support on an elongated foot, wide and massive enough to easily support the weight of the body. There were no spikes from the calves. There was not even close to such insanity as in the canon: no disproportionately thin arms and club-footed legs with a tiny foot, an abnormally thin waist, a strange, um, attachment of legs to the hip bone, an incomprehensible hump and a barrel-shaped torso with a huge collar, violating the very concept of the center of gravity in relation to the figure of the unfortunate creature. Nature, unlike expensive game stores, shapes the physiology and appearance of living beings not only rationally and harmoniously, but also in full accordance with their lifestyle and habitat. Turians are predators formed in a world with high gravity and high radiation background. And the whole figure of the creature pacing around the circular room was the epitome of a predator! Aggressive, strong, flexible, agile and fast.

Unlike Imrir, I didn't dislike the Turian's appearance. It's a beautiful view. Predatory. Dangerous. The light grace of a wild beast, the smooth, honed movements of an experienced fighter, economical gestures, and the gaze of unrealistically bright green eyes, looking somewhat wary. The face with a hard cover of dark purple color with bright white patterns of the clan mark is moderately expressive. The harmony of the face and body perfectly fits the definition of *beautiful* and therefore for me the Turian did not get into the category of *freak*.

"We can talk." I easily agree. There is wariness and distrust in the green eyes. Nihlus understood and felt the crew's attitude to himself perfectly. And my recipient didn't really hide her dislike. Don't mind? The mandibles twitched nervously.

Reality wavered. A minor digression. The beginning of the stratification of the chain of events. The first sign of a Change and rejection of the Branch of reality reflected from the main tree of reality embodied. The history of such a universe does not like digressions... she will try to return events to the programmed course. Let's see what I can change in between the key points that can't be changed at all.

"No. Talking to an intelligent interlocutor is a pleasure that has been so rare lately. Especially if the topic does not affect the service."

The spectr understood my irony. He bowed his head slightly.

"You weren't like that the last time we talked... Friendly, Commander."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Status and environment oblige. Who better to know this than you?" The man nodded, accepting this explanation and an unspoken apology for my recipient's behavior. The green eyes stared intently, hard and thoughtful.

That's wonderful. Listening to pretentious nonsense that the Spectrum itself doesn't believe in... why? It is much more useful to listen to what he is interested in, to find out his true motives and thoughts. Let's see HOW he opens up during this short conversation.

"What brings you aboard the Normandy, Spectr? No need to tell tales about testing a stealth system."

"You've already figured it out." - not a question, but a simple statement of fact.

"I hope I'm not stupid."

"Don't take my words as an insult." The Turian waved his hand in alarm.

Four-fingered. Another difference between a living being and an image created by the imagination of people. The Turian had four fingers on his hands, which, in principle, is logical from the point of view of banal physiology.

"I won't count it. And yet, Nihlus, what brings you to *Normandy*?" Anderson, who entered the round room, saved himself from having to answer a slippery question. With the man's first words, the story returned to its original tracks. I listened to him with half an ear, carefully watching the Turian standing next to me, forming his image. My eyes involuntarily clung to the little things that were so insignificant at first glance: small reflex gestures, the way he moved, the timbre of his voice, the fleur of his emotions that I vaguely felt, the expression of his surprisingly green eyes.

Anderson started talking about the mission to Eden Prime. Nihlus immediately tensed up. Her mandibles were pressed tightly against her cheeks, and her eyes were alert. Waiting for my reaction?

"What needs to be removed from the planet?" I asked calmly.

The captain answered me:

"During the excavations at Eden Prime, scientists found some kind of device. A Prothean beacon, I suppose."

I chuckled.

"How can you be sure that this is a lighthouse and not something else?"

The captain had no answer to this question, and he hesitated, not knowing what to say. The Turian's gaze turned puzzled. I was frankly falling out of the image that Spectr had managed to form during my time on board the ship, and this could not help but attract his attention.

Smart and observant. Good.

"Let's say it's a lighthouse, and let's say it's a Prothean." I watched the slightest expression of emotion on the Turian's face, trying to understand his reaction, which was greatly hampered by Imrir's complete lack of knowledge of facial expressions characteristic of this race.

"I understand your desire to get him off Eden Prime. As far as I know, there is no way to study such devices on this planet. Am I right in my assumptions?"

Anderson and Nihlus nodded simultaneously.

"Correct me if I'm wrong about anything. An artifact has been found on the planet that has remained operational. If it had been non-operational, there would have been no such hype." approval flashed in his green eyes for a split second, an echo of which I could catch with empathy that had just begun to show itself. "Presumably, it is a Prothean beacon with great potential value for all races living in Citadel Space. Since there is no way to examine the device or ensure its safety on Eden Prime, it was decided to take it out. I'll assume to the Citadel, from where he will go to the scientific laboratory, again presumably the Azarian one."

Nihlus nodded. Anderson said nothing, eyeing me suspiciously with a hard stare. He also noticed the oddities in my behavior, since he had the opportunity to communicate with my recipient. But how well did he know this charming scumbag? I'll find out in time, but for now, let's continue this entertaining conversation:

"With some doubts and a lot of assumptions, I can even believe that transporting a lighthouse is reason enough for one of the Council's most respected and well-known Spectr's to waste so much personal time."

Only a deaf person would not have heard the irony in my voice. Nihlus spread his mandibles in a slight smile, eerily similar to a carnivorous grin.

"You're perceptive, Commander Shepard."

"As I said before, I dare say I'm not stupid." My grin only made the Turian smile wider, revealing a palisade of sharp, wedge-shaped fangs. "So what is the REAL reason for your attention, Specter?"

"I want to see you in action, Shepard." He answered me, cocking his head slightly to one side.

"Is curiosity idle or has a practical interest?" I asked, stopping Anderson from making a pretentious speech about the Alliance.

Nihlus noticed my maneuver and grinned.

"Quite practical."

"And what do you want to evaluate?"

"I have put forward your candidacy for the Spectr." the Turian kindly explained to me. "I want to evaluate you as a possible Special Corpus operative."

I chuckled, casting an ironic glance at the captain. The story has a peculiar humor. Eighteen years ago, the legendary Spectre Saren Arterius evaluated the candidate for Spectra from humanity, David Anderson, and, as a result, he failed. Now his student, Nihlus Kraik, is evaluating the protege of the failed candidate. Me. It's symbolic what to say here.

"I don't even know... should I be pleased with the honor, or should I be outraged that I was confronted with the fact?" The Turian understood me quite correctly, his green eyes glittering with hidden amusement. He enjoyed this conversation, a kind of ritual of introducing two predators. I think I'll choose the third one, and I'll say that I'll be glad to work with you, Nihlus Kraik, regardless of the decision you make later.

He nodded slightly. Wow, he understands hints instantly, and the Turian is quite friendly with humor. Good. No, it's a good thing he's not the arrogant, pretentious jerk Imrir thought he was.

My recipient made a mistake in her assessment, mistaking the outward manifestations of strict self-control and a long-tested mask for the true character of a representative of an alien race. She wasn't paying attention, she wasn't listening, she wasn't looking. A common mistake.

Our sweet conversation, which gave us both some fanatical pleasure, was interrupted by the excited voice of the pilot, who announced the reception of the signal.

The story is back on track. I calmly watched a short video that was transmitted to us by fighters from the surface of the planet. Nothing unexpected: a shootout with the Geth, the death of fighters, the Lord in the sky. Expected. Anderson stared intently at the screen. Nihlus squinted at me, more interested in my reaction than in the image. The green eyes only flickered once at the screen when the Reaper appeared on it. And they returned almost instantly. Meeting my gaze, the Turian shook his head slightly. I raised an eyebrow. In response, a questioning urk. Like a cat, what a word! My serene smile colored his gaze with concern.

Well, well... And Kraik is well versed in human facial expressions.

"Report the situation." Anderson ordered, looking at the frozen image of the landing Lord on the screen.

"Seventeen minutes, flight is normal, Captain." The Joker immediately responded. "There are no other Alliance ships in the area."

"Go ahead, Joker. Fast and quiet. The task has just become very complicated."

I could barely hold back a sad sigh: well, why say the obvious? I thought it was only in the canon... Funny talk, but no, he actually says that. Is he really a pretentious paragon? Doubtful... But it looks like it.

Anderson shifted his gaze to Nihlus. The Turian twitched his mandibles and answered the unasked question:

"A small strike group can move out quickly and take the lighthouse without attracting attention."

"Prepare to disembark."

Nihlus turned around and walked to the exit of the briefing room. And then the captain gave out:

"Commander, tell Alenko and Jenkins to be ready."

I almost choked on my breath. What?! Okay, there was no one on the ship in the canon, but my recipient's combat team is on the real Normandy, and I'm being sent to the planet in the company of a newly graduated cadet and a staff lieutenant! Don't you understand? Canon is canon, but where are the brains?

"Sir, what about my landing party?"

Anderson twitched his cheek in displeasure. Nihlus stopped before reaching the door, but did not turn around.

"Your group will have other tasks."

The Spectre shook his head and silently left the room. Really, what can I say?

Anderson sounded the alert, and I left to prepare for the landing. To sum up our conversation, I'm interested in Nihlus Kraik, and I don't want to see him dead on that ill-fated spaceport.

His behavior and involuntary habits give us hope that we can work together. The Turian is a predator, his reactions and habits are completely consistent with his nature. A predator will never recognize a game as equal. Just another predator. It's an instinct. Game can be deadly and treacherous, it can inspire respect and positive emotions, it can receive patronage and protection, but it will never become someone equal. In our short conversation, I made my status clear: I was just as much a predator as he was. The words served only as an outer shell. Like me, Nihlus assessed my movements, habits, small unconscious gestures, manner of conversation, attitude towards others. He was surprised and puzzled. The current me was different from the original Shepard, and Nihlus Kraik understood this perfectly.

The decision has been made.

I will do EVERYTHING to change one single event: the demise of the Nihlus Krayk Spectr. Unfortunately, this particular change has a very slim chance of success, since it will take place without my direct participation. The Spectr can only change its fate by itself. I can only warn him.


The recipient's memory was fully assimilated, and therefore the preparation did not take long, and eight minutes later I was already standing in the hold and looking longingly at the two soldiers of my squad. Alenko and Jenkins. And I listened to Captain Anderson, who was broadcasting:

"Your squad is the muscular strength of the operation! Break through to the excavation site."

There are no words, only expressions left. The muscular strength of the operation... Then who are the brains? Is the Spectr stunned by this circus?

By the way, where is he?

I turned my head, catching the wistful gaze of Nihlus, standing by the all-terrain vehicle and absently twirling a powerful pistol in his hands. Apparently, there was something similar on my face, as he barely noticeably shook his head and slightly spread his mandibles.

"What to do with the survivors?" Kayden asked.

"Helping the survivors is a secondary task. Your main goal is the lighthouse."

The speakers clicked, and the Joker's voice said:

"We go to point one."

The Spectre came up, stopping a couple of meters away from me.

"Nihlus? Are you coming with us?" Jenkins asked happily.

The man shuddered at the prospect, and he replied sharply:

"No. I move faster alone."

Did the brave corporal have time to talk to him too?

Anderson thought about it and decided to enlighten us:

"Nihlus will go ahead for exploration. He will inform you about the situation. Otherwise, please keep quiet on the air."

Uh-huh. Great. That is, if I want to warn my mentor about something, in fact, will I need to violate a direct order and go on the air? Amazing! The Spectr itself only closed its eyes wearily at this statement and pressed its mandibles tightly to its cheeks. I got it too.

The ship shook, and I stepped back a little, approaching the Turian, and said softly:

"Nihlus, may I ask for some... a promise."

Spektr blinked in surprise at this question and looked at me in disbelief. He was the only one who heard my words: the Turians' hearing is very sharp, and he easily heard my almost silent whisper. He hesitated for a few moments, but curiosity overcame his doubts, and he answered just as quietly:

"You can."

"Swear to me that you will NOT turn your back on an armed sentient." The green eyes widened in surprise. "Especially if you know this reasonable person perfectly well and trust him infinitely."

My cold voice and gaze made him flinch.

"Do you know something?" The officialdom is thrown aside. It wasn't Commander Shepard and Spectre Kraik who were talking here and now, but two fighters preparing to land.

"Intuition." a hard look of green eyes in response. "FOR PEOPLE LIKE US, it is very developed. Mine is RARELY wrong."

The Turian blinked. He thought about it. He didn't brush it off, but took it into account, glaring at me suspiciously.

And finally, a slow response.

"I'll do my best." and not a shadow of irony.

"Nihlus." The man tilted his head questioningly. "If you die, I'll kill you."

A soft, vibrating chuckle, and the Spectr moved away to the descending ramp.