# Rebirth: The Mass Effect. Book 1. part 4.2

Аноним Nytare

Choosing a side. Reflections on the races of mass effect.

Chapter 4.2 choosing a side

As I walked through the ship, I thought about the situation I found myself in. Because of Nihlus' fatal wound, I opened up too soon. I'm very vulnerable right now: my soul hasn't caught on yet, my mentality is in sleep mode, my body hasn't been rebuilt, my energy system is weak, and my core hasn't been formed. I'm practically no different from an ordinary person. In two or three decades, the aura will unfold completely, and I will become what I am: a master mentalist, a true metamorph, and a universal magician.

If I were in the magical world, there would be no problems. People like me are not uncommon there, and they treat us with respect. But in a technically advanced world...

Most people are suspicious. Anything that is even slightly different from them causes fear, distrust, misunderstanding and, as a result, a desire to destroy. If information gets out that I'm a metamorph, a magician, and, by the gods, a terrifying mentalist, a hunt will begin for me with two goals: capture or destroy. The first ones will want to study me, gain control over me, or even instill the same abilities in themselves. The second is to remove a hypothetical threat. And I'm a thousand percent sure that if the unforgettable Ghost finds out, Cerberus will turn the galaxy upside down regardless of anything to get me.

The Alliance is not on my way.

No one will ever convince me that dear humanity will be able to accept someone who can read other people's minds and influence the mind. And someone who can change himself the way he wants to. I will be a freak, a dangerous creature that should be locked up, studied, or destroyed. I will never be a person in their eyes. Just a threat. People will never be able to trust me. They will never allow even the thought that it is better to cooperate with me without lies and setups. No, not there! Only complete submission!

Do I need it?

Become an experimental animal in the closed top-secret laboratories of Cerberus? For what? For the sake of dear humanity? Yes, without exception, ALL residents of the Alliance are deeply indifferent to me and my fate. They will even support Cerberus in their endeavors. Well, yes, the freaks should be under lock and key. The vile mutants that disgrace the human race must be used for the benefit of humanity. Amen.

Biotics are a perfect example of this attitude.

And then they're so surprised when they get hate and contempt in return.

I already tried to trust people once. She talked about herself and her abilities. She offered to help. I WANTED to work for them voluntarily and honestly. And what's the result? Sleeping gas and a closed laboratory for the rest of my life. A wonderful thank you for saving me during the war. Sincere honesty. But they assured me, they swore that this would not happen. Well, well. As soon as they showed their capabilities in practice, they panicked and twitched, trying to hide their secrets. And we ended up with the Apocalypse.

I could barely contain my laughter.

A brutalized metamorph magician, who has only a desire for revenge, mixed with sincere, crystal-clear black hatred, is a terrible enemy. Mentalism, used with all its might, gave me an advantage: I KNEW what was going to happen and when, by reading information from the mentopol of the planet. Yes, I wouldn't have lived a year after that, but I didn't need this year. It took me a month to turn the world into ruins. Necromancy is not considered the most dangerous branch of ritual magic for nothing, even more dangerous than demonology. And there was a lot of death and a lot of necro-energy, generously given to me by my enemies. Reality got its chance to develop, as the notorious canon disappeared into the distance in the flames of global war and a mini-version of the zombie apocalypse. I was even killed. He was shot by a sniper. What's the use? She stood up. To just kill a necromancer in the middle of a battlefield? It's not even funny. A nuclear strike would have been launched, demilich or the supreme disembodied undead would have stood up. There's no difference.

That life taught me a lot of lessons. Cruel, painful, bloody. But - priceless. Never trust people and don't trust them without looking back. They'll betray you. Or they'll frame you. Never let them know that you are stronger, more talented, or at least in some way different from them. Someone else's power and incredible abilities cause only envy, hatred and the desire to destroy the owner of these abilities. Hit back. Indifference to hatred. Never forget: mercy is seen as weakness, honesty as stupidity, and generosity as a sign of a fool. Great lessons. You can't say anything.

Those who are the exception are priceless! For such reasonable people, you can bend reality over your knee and give your life without hesitation. But they don't occur very often.

Okay, the demons are with them, with the humans. To get involved with humanity is insanity in the highest degree of its development. At least there are other types of Mass Effects in reality. Maybe you can deal with them?

Who is there?

The Reapers? They don't give a damn about individual organics, except for favorites like Nazara's Saren.

The Asari? Fast-paced same-sex aunts with a bunch of secrets that they are in no hurry to share with others, even on the brink of the death of the galaxy. It's dangerous and unwise to mess with them. Who knows how the thought will turn in their head? Just look at their justiciar with their strange logic and Code.

The Salarians? Slippery, practical types. If the canon is at least a little bit close to reality, you have to expect setups and problems from these comrades no less than from Cerberus, or even more. I am guaranteed a comfortable laboratory table there. To their demons.

The Turians? Maybe. A military civilization based on personal honor and valor, in which lying about one's actions is the gravest crime. A strict code that has no exceptions, no matter who falls under it: an ordinary soldier or a Primarch. I wonder if they're really that painfully honest. If they really evaluate a reasonable person by personal qualities, and not by origin and potential danger, you can try to negotiate with them.

The Krogan? I remember the canonical Reeve and understand the Salarians with their genophage. Women in their culture, if we can even talk about culture and Krogan, are an object of bargaining or exchange. They are usually killed first when attacking another clan. If you want to fight and kill to your heart's content, this is not a bad option, but deal with them... Not an option.

The Quarians? I don't know. There is not much information about them, we need to find out. But from the point of view of practicality, a Migrating Fleet is useless. They are barely able to take care of themselves. I won't be able to rely on them.

The Drell? Absolutely devoted to the Hanars. Jellyfish have enough problems not to risk messing with them. They're too unpredictable.

Voluses? So they are part of the Hierarchy. Without batting an eye, they will sell me profitably to the Turians. They will also congratulate you on a successful deal. They'll congratulate me.

The Batarians? To contact a slave-owning state with a rigid caste society? Funny. The prospects: a control chip, a laboratory, and a slave collar. If you remove the slave collar, everything is like in the Alliance. Although not. The collar can be left on.

Who else is there?

The Elkors. No options or comments. They trade with pirates, on their own.

The Yagi? are guaranteed to try to kill. When they get punched in the face, they'll leave me alone. But the output is useless.

Vorcha? They'll try to eat them right away. They have brains like troglodytes, and they behave the same way. In fact, they are a primitive people with all the consequences.

The Geth? They have no points of contact with organics. A closed society.

The heretics? See point one. It's easier to fly straight to Vermaer to visit Saren.

Collectors? The same as heretics, only in a more perverted form with a real chance of ending up on the same laboratory table.

I don't think I've forgotten anyone.

Yeah. It's a choice, a choice... what a wealth: for every taste and color. I don't even know who to turn to.

Maybe I really shouldn't do anything?

And what? If Nihlus survives my receiving Spectr status, it will fall out of the interests of this reality and will have the opportunity to try to bring it out of the rut of the canon. He will be free in his destiny. After all, this is his home reality, not mine. I just don't want to set him up like that. I've already started to respect him.

Okay, I have time to take a closer look at Kraik while we fly to the Citadel. If the real Council turns out to be the same tight idiots as in the canon... I drop everything and fly to Vermaer. And may it all burn with a clear flame!