# Rebirth: The Mass Effect. Book 1. Part 3.3

Аноним Nytare

Imrir's contact with the Lighthouse. A conversation with Captain Anderson and Dr. Chakwas.

Chapter 3.3 Beacon

The Prothean lighthouse towered in all its dubious glory: a narrow pylon glowing with a ghostly green light, covered with dim lights. It's a beautiful device, I can't take that away, even though it didn't bring up the most pleasant associations in my memory. It looked too much like hubs in undead cities. The same ghostly green glow, except that it is warm, and the deathly cold of necroelectric energy is not felt. If it hadn't been so necessary, I wouldn't have gone within a mile of him!

"Unbelievable! The current Protean technology!" An enthusiastic voice sounded very close by.

I turned around. And here's a greeting from canon: Kayden admired the ancient device, slowly walking around it in a circle. The lighthouse's pylon stood in the center of the site, flashing green and gold lights, and hummed softly.

"How much time has passed, and it's still working." Ashley was kneading her left arm, which was hanging with a whip, numb from the discharge of a nearby husk. "When he was excavated, he didn't behave like that."

Of course, he didn't! It was inactive until Saren turned it on and counted the attached information. Now the device was working and waiting for its last victim.

"I wonder what he's hiding?" Alenko muttered, took a step forward and... crossed the security zone.

The beacon has been activated.

A powerful arc of energy passed through the pylon, throwing out a tight beam. Alenko screamed, slowly rising into the air. No matter how much the man resisted, an invisible force persistently dragged him towards the ancient device.

"ALENKO! Curious idiot!"

Running, I slammed into this jerk, knocking him out of the beam. The biotic collapsed to the floor, and I felt an invisible grip lift me into the air and pull me towards the slowly opening lighthouse.

Darg started to run towards me, but I shouted:

"Stop! Not an approxima..."

The visions flashed suddenly, instantly overloading the mind with an abyss of information: coordinates, chronicles, excerpts of recordings and short videos. Blood, war, planets burning in nuclear flames, collapsing cities, armies of beetle-like monsters tearing sentient beings of different races to pieces, fleets of ships dying under the blows of black machines so familiar to me, Reapers descending on the planet.

Blood, war, planets burning in nuclear flames, collapsing cities, armies of beetle-like monsters tearing sentient beings of different races to pieces, fleets of ships dying under the blows of black machines so familiar to me, Reapers descending on the planet. Episodes, excerpts, memories, emotions, feelings of despair, threats and hopelessness, a strange planet... It seemed that my head would simply burst from the endless stream of data being lavishly pressed into my poor brains! But finally, my consciousness could not stand it, and I plunged into blessed darkness.

Last coherent thoughts: *Alenko, moron... I'll kill the cattle!* and *The recharge will stop!*.

Consciousness returned painfully and slowly, pulling me out of the depths of a bloody nightmare. The information that was forced into my poor brains was slowly digested and sorted out, but its volume is such that colorful bloody dreams are guaranteed to me. My fingers were clenching convulsively from the desire to strangle Alenko, even though I knew in my mind that in any case I would have climbed under the lighthouse.

***

Something a little to the left beeped softly. I slowly opened my eyes, staring blearily at the familiar ceiling of the infirmary.

"Doctor? Dr. Chakwas!" Kayden's voice sounded alarmed. "She's awake."

The biotic beast! I turned my head and got a lot of pleasure from the unexpected but very pleasant sight that opened up to me: Alenko was sitting on the next bed, looking at me longingly with swollen eyes. Oops! Who fixed his face like that and put the backlight under both eyes? If I find out, I'll thank you. From the bottom of my heart! And so that Anderson doesn't hear, otherwise he won't appreciate it.

There was another beep from the left. When I turned around, I saw only a solid partition separating a part of the infirmary from us. I believe Nihlus is located there.

"You've got us worried, Shepard." The doctor came up to me, carefully examining my face. "How do you feel?"

I slowly propped myself up on my elbows and struggled to sit up.

"Disgusting! My head hurts!" I shuddered, cupping my aching temples with my fingers. How "long have I been unconscious?"

"About fifteen hours." the doctor replied. "I suppose it's the influence of the lighthouse. You're in luck, Commander."

How much?!! Fifteen hours?!! I closed my eyes, stifling a curse. It's good that Turians are so tenacious, and Nihlus, who managed to get a little boost in his body, managed to survive the time of my unconsciousness.

Guilt flashed brightly nearby. Oh, has it dawned on Kayden that I might just be freaking out because of him?

"It's my fault." He said penitently. "Apparently, I activated some kind of protective field, and you had to rescue me."

To be honest, I didn't expect Kayden to actually admit his guilt. Sincerely. Not many people can do this, just like that, and say: "I was wrong, it's my fault". But he could.

Maybe Kayden isn't that hopeless. Let's see, let's see. But he got caught in the face legitimately, and his brain needs to be rinsed so that it doesn't happen again next time.

"Lieutenant, you should remember that ancient artifacts can be dangerous. You can't just approach them like that: it's not known for what purposes they were made and what systems they have to protect against unauthorized access. We were lucky that the lighthouse just worked out and leaked the information embedded in it to me, and I was able to accept it and not get my brain burned out by such a crude transmission.

Chakwas's gaze was attentive and thoughtful, and Kayden looked at me with the eyes of a beaten dog. A very expressive face, which generally read everything that could be read. And this is without any mentalism.

Basically, he's not a bad guy. It's even a pity for him in some ways: the L2 implant caused a lot of inconvenience and was simply dangerous to life and mind, and its replacement is quite expensive. I know what constant and severe migraines are, when I am unable to think coherently from a dull aching pain, and sparks really fall from sharp, sharp lumbago. The funny ones are so bright-bright white dots that quickly scatter in all directions from the point of focus of vision and leave a light trail behind them. Or small rainbow squares running erratically in front of your eyes. And such a condition... It's interesting, like being in a closed glass jar: although your vision is crystal clear and clear, you look at the world somehow distantly, and the sounds are muffled. Sometimes it also gets fun. And the earth is spinning so funny under your feet.

I don't know how much Kayden has these symptoms, but he's not a fighter. Yes, the biotic is not bad, but he is not a fighter. He needs to have his implant changed. Preferably quickly, before the consequences accumulate and result in some kind of cute complication.

"Don't scold him, Commander." Karin said softly. "We had no idea what we were up against. And, unfortunately, we won't find out now."

To my questioning look, Kayden said:

The lighthouse exploded. You lost consciousness from the explosion.

It's clear. Then the canon worked: the lighthouse was destroyed. So Saren will find out about this soon and will want to rip my very knowledgeable head off. In fact, he will order my liquidation. But even during the passage of the game, I was wondering where Lady Benezia got the information so quickly while on board the Lord? Who leaked it?

"What are the consequences, Doctor?"

Physically, you're fine. But I found an unusual brain activity- abnormal beta waves. I also noticed that you have more rapid eye movements. These are the usual signs of intense dreaming.

"It wasn't a dream." I replied. "Information from the lighthouse appears in the form of fragmentary visions. Ragged, fuzzy, and messy."

"What did you see, Commander?" Kayden leaned forward, staring at me with the burning gaze of a beaten raccoon.

"Death and destruction." I closed my eyes and rubbed my temples. "The Protheans recorded their deaths. Have you left a warning for other races? I don't know. But I didn't see anything pleasant."

There was silence in the infirmary. Kayden blinked in confusion, trying to comprehend what was said. Yes, there was nothing so fabulous about the lighthouse. No ancient technology or the great wisdom of a mighty civilization. Indeed, fragmentary pictures. When the mentalism is activated, I will sort through the information received and structure it. Maybe I'll get a whole streaming image, or maybe everything will remain in the form of scattered pieces of useless pictures. With a soft hiss, the door opened, admitting Captain Anderson to the infirmary. Kayden and I straightened up and saluted the sudden arrival of our superiors. The captain nodded, which was regarded as an analogue of the command *at ease*: Imrir knew Anderson's habits perfectly well.

"Doctor, what is the Commander's condition?"

"All indicators are normal. I think she's fine."

"I'm glad to hear that. Commander, I need to talk to you. In private."

Alenko ran away instantly, away from his superiors, but Karin frowned and did not budge, folding her arms over her chest.

"Captain, I cannot leave the infirmary while there is a critically injured patient in critical condition."

Having said that, the doctor retreated behind the partition. I guess you can hear everything there verbatim. The captain sighed, but did not argue. On the territory of the infirmary, the word of the doctor has power, perhaps no less than the power of the captain of the ship.

"I hope you're feeling well."

"Yes, sir," I replied shortly.

Anderson clasped his hands behind his back, frowning at me. I understand him in some ways. The situation was just magical. That's what he said:

"I won't lie to you. The situation is not the best. Nihlus is dying, the Lighthouse is destroyed, and the Geth have begun an invasion. The Council wants to ask you a number of questions."

Oh, how! Has he sent the report yet? In principle, a lot of time passed, I could have sent it, especially since we were on Eden Prime not far from the communication buoy. The ship was definitely moving between relays now, judging by the steady, measured vibration, barely perceptible by the body. Right now we are deaf and blind until we come out of the corridor near the destination repeater.

"I'm not going to let the Council pin the destruction of the lighthouse on me!" I said calmly, understanding the background perfectly.

"I will support you and your report, Commander. But that's not why I'm here." Anderson shook his head. "It's about Saren. The second Turian."

Anderson was silent for a few moments, pacing the infirmary, lost in unpleasant thoughts. The situation is really far from rosy, and the real Saren Arterius can cause much more problems than the canonical Saren. Still, this is the real world.

"Saren is a Spectr, and one of the best." The captain finally said. "A living legend. But if he got involved with the Geth, it means he decided to go his own way." Anderson turned around, staring at me intently. "A spectrum that refuses to obey the Council is a problem. Saren is dangerous. And he hates people."

Yes, Saren is dangerous. Damn dangerous! How dangerous can a practical and ruthless specialist with unlimited rights be? The question is different. His true motives. To what extent are his actions controlled by the Lord? How much does he do of his own volition, and how much is he forced to do? We need to find out as soon as possible. And this will be crucial in my future actions.

All my future actions and plans for the future depend, funnily enough, on the Spectr of Arterius. Is he subordinate or acting of his own free will? If subdued, he will be an extremely valuable ally if he can be freed. If he's working on his own... he's the enemy. There are no options or doubts, and it should be destroyed as quickly and accurately as possible. Unless, of course, I decide on my own that I should make a Harvest and throw this Cycle to the demons. And I haven't given up on this idea yet. Knowing myself, I seriously fear that serving in the army will only strengthen this idea in me.

I don't like military service! I can hardly stand the barracks and their crowding. I'm angry at the number of strangers in my personal space. Always, in all my lives, I have done everything to avoid the army. I've been anything from a mercenary, bounty hunter, or monster hunter, to a black archaeologist, to an artifact miner, but never a regular army soldier. The single life in which I was reborn into a man and entered active service caused me to have an unshakable dislike for the army, its laws and way of life. Perhaps it was influenced by the surge of Chaos that I had fallen under before. He changed me, my soul, my worldview and my attitude to reality. Perhaps it was my unstable psyche and the habit of loneliness, but a rigidly planned life, strict routine and complete subordination without the right to a personal opinion, coupled with a hidden mess, ubiquitous hazing and double standards caused aggression and instinctive hostility. So far, formations, drill have raised a wave of anger. I'm a loner. I'm used to relying ONLY on myself. No one will help in the darkness of the ancient catacombs, where there is only you and your weapons against an endless crowd of monsters. I never make a lot of friends and acquaintances. I try not to take responsibility for someone else's life. I always act alone, even if it's the right way to die. Death is familiar to me and does not cause fear or dislike, but the presence of a large number of intelligent people is very much so. I don't need someone else's company at all for an adequate existence.

Estus was right. Pupation has already begun. I closed my eyes, watching the nervous captain. Maybe this is my chance to change something about myself? A little more, and I will finally turn to the path of isolation. From life to life, it's getting harder and harder for me to tolerate the presence of other intelligent people. This is not good. This is the path to degradation and decline.

"Why does Saren hate people?" I asked an almost canonical question.

The answer came immediately:

"He thinks we're growing too fast and occupying the galaxy."

I couldn't agree more. The Alliance is rapidly colonizing planets, unable to protect them or develop a colony properly, and many of them remain at the village level of modular houses, unable to survive on their own. What am I talking about? Here, there was a simple example recently. Eden Prime is one of the oldest colonies, and one rebellious Spectrum and a handful of Geth have actually taken it. And without much hassle. The Lord didn't show up there at all. So, I gave my pet a ride and hung in the sky to pick it up later. And he made sure that Saren didn't get off the hook.

"And do many people think so, like Saren?"

"Many. But most of them don't do anything about it. And Saren contacted the Geth. I don't know how. I don't know why. All I know is that it has something to do with the lighthouse."

He knows... He doesn't know shit! These are just assumptions, although they are somewhat correct. Saren really came for the lighthouse, and he got the information he needed from it. But the lighthouse is just a tool, nothing more. Moreover, it is useless.

"You were there, Commander, before the lighthouse self-destructed. Did you see anything? Any hint of what Saren was looking for?"

"Before I lost consciousness, I had visions."

"Visions? What?"

"Wars. I can't say for sure, they're too fragmented and torn. Just flashes that appear for a moment in the image."

"This should be reported to the Council."

"Report what? That I had a bad dream?" I asked, frowning at the floor. "They'll think I'm completely crazy."

The psychological state of my recipient after the ill-fated Torfan was... not too stable and rosy. The captain was slightly embarrassed, apparently remembering this interesting fact, but he did not give up on his idea:

"It is unknown what kind of information was stored in the lighthouse. Lost prothean technologies? Blueprints for some ancient weapon of mass destruction? Whatever it was, Saren has it now."

There was nothing valuable in this lighthouse. The usual warning of an impending galactic Apocalypse and a call for revenge, nothing more. You'd better look for the blueprints in your Archives on Mars, not in my head!

An extraneous thought flashed across my mind: I wonder if Sagep's head is falling apart from the pain right now, just like mine?

However, I didn't say anything to Anderson. Firstly, he just won't believe it, and secondly, there's no point. Why do I need extra problems? I'd like to get Spectr status and get the hell out of this poorhouse.

"I know Saren." the captain continued to broadcast. "I know his reputation and methods! He believes that humans are parasites of the cosmos! This attack was an act of war!"

Uh-huh, wars. How so... Saren didn't give a damn about the Alliance or humanity as a whole!Uh-huh, wars. How so... Saren didn't give a damn about the Alliance or humanity as a whole! If his motives are even slightly similar to the canonical ones, he only cares about his native race and Hierarchy. I wonder what the brave captain would say if he knew that I share the opinion of this Turian in some way? I don't like people. Sometimes I hate it. Sincerely. Clear. Uncluttered. It is so sincere that the idea of genocide does not cause rejection and hostility.

"He's got the secrets of the lighthouse. He has an army of Geth at his disposal. And he won't stop until he wipes humanity off the face of the galaxy!"

Should I help him? In memory of my recipient's happy childhood? I wonder how many people wonder what happened in the past of this beautiful red-haired girl, who was often called a "Soulless Bitch" behind her back?

"Sir, he must be stopped!" I said pathetically, devoutly looking into the man's eyes.

Absolutely necessary. At least to have a heart-to-heart conversation with him.

"It's not that simple." the captain replied. "He's a Spectr. He can fly wherever he wants and do whatever he wants. That's why we need the Council on our side."

"If we prove that Saren is out of control, the Council will strip him of his status." I said listlessly.

"I will contact the Ambassador and try to arrange an audience with the Council." The captain glanced at the partition behind me.

An interesting thought occurred to me, and I said to the man's back as he left:

"Captain."

"Anderson turned around."

"Commander?"

"Have you already sent a report to the Citadel?"

"Yes."

It's annoying.

"Have you reported on the state of the Spectr of Kriyk?"

"No."

Oh, that's good.

"Do not tell the Council that he has survived."

Surprise stabbed at his nerves.

"What's the point?"

"Saren must not find out that his former student managed to survive this shot. If Nihlus is taken to the Citadel Hospital, I won't give a spent thermoclip for his life." The captain was silent, considering my words. Roughly speaking, I suggested that he conceal the information. Important information.

"Commander Shepard has some truth in her words, Captain." Dr. Chakwas said softly, coming up to us. "His life is already in danger. This is compounded by the fact that we don't have a single drug on board for creatures with dextro organisms. Do you understand what will happen if he dies in the Normandy infirmary after you report that he is alive? We could be charged with premeditated murder."

"I understood you." Anderson said after a short silence.

Already at the door, the captain turned and said:

"I'll do as you suggested. As soon as Dr. Chakwas releases you, I'm waiting for your report."

"That's right, sir."

The captain turned around and left the infirmary.

"Thank you for your support, Doctor."

"It wasn't my idea, Commander." She replied calmly, pressing an inconspicuous button.

The partition was lowered, giving me the opportunity to see Nihlus lying on the bed, staring at me with bright green eyes. Op-pa...

Karin glanced at the instruments, frowned, went to the table and picked up a portable medical scanner.

"Commander, come here."

They put me next to some devices and scanned me quickly. The doctor carefully read the information on the scanner, cast a thoughtful glance at the instrument screens located near Spektr's bed, and frowned. Nihlus and I watched this extremely expressive pantomime in silence.

"Commander Shepard. Your indicators are completely normal. And here are the indicators of the Kryk Spectr... they would be normal if he were human."

The green eyes widened slightly and narrowed sharply, the heavy gaze fixed on me. The doctor noticed this and said:

"With such indicators, even a completely healthy Turian should have lost consciousness long ago. I would like to understand what a prolonged stay in such a state can mean for the Spectr." And on that cheerful note, Dr. Chakwas looked at me with a demanding expression.

Oh...

Nihlus raised his hand, gesturing for me to get closer. I came over, cocked my head questioningly, leaning over, and he croaked faintly:

"In my cabin. The Special Corps box."

I nodded briefly and looked questioningly at the doctor.

"Commander, maybe you have a first aid kit with you. It would be appropriate now."

Nihlus nodded slightly, making it clear that he really had the first-aid kit he was looking for.

"I understand you, Doctor."

"And don't forget to come back for an examination before you start writing the report."

I moaned softly, barely restraining myself. Report! And I've already lost the habit of bureaucracy in recent years. What kind of bureaucracy is there in a world consumed by a zombie apocalypse? Or in the catacombs of ancient underground cities full of traps and monstrous creatures, from which I stole rare and valuable artifacts?

I hate it!

But I'll have to write. Damn it... Okay, I'll use the recipient's memories and set it up, since I haven't completely lost the ability to compose hard-to-read dry texts in official language.