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Rebirth: The Mass Effect. Book 1

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    Part 1: Under the Shadow of the Soveren The author is Irina Lerkh. Rebirth is the new version. Imrir wakes up after her death in another world in Shepard's body and gets closer to Garrus and Nihlus in pursuit of Saren and Reaper's.

  A little bit about what you can read in fanfiction.
  Having half written the first part of this fanfiction, I encountered some misunderstanding on the part of the readers. In order to mentally prepare a new reader (I hope there will be more of them =)), I decided to write such a small introductory word.
  So.
  You found my fanfiction and for some reason you became so interested in it that you opened it to read. Since I am not in favor of the situation with cactus and mice, I want to write a warning in order to eliminate misunderstandings and remove the possibility of future disappointment.
  I'll start with the most important thing (personally for the male part of the readers of this site, because, as practice has shown, they are the most nervous).
  What you WON'T SEE in this fanfiction:
  You won't see the cool Commander Shepard, who defeats enemies in packs, destroys Reapers en masse, racing on the Normandy ahead of the entire fleet and "does the impossible before breakfast and conceives the unthinkable before lunch" (quote from the comment).
  You will not see an epic description of how the Great Humanity successfully bends over everyone, destroys the Reapers and begins to dominate the galaxy, mercifully subjugating the Council and all other races.
  Be realistic.
  It wasn't until 2148 on Mars that people began to study the Archive. For those who cannot calculate, at the time of the start of ME1, it was the 2183rd year, in other words, people only learned about the zero element 35 years ago.
  It follows that you will not see equal technological development between humans and other races of the Citadel Space. You won't see dumb Advice. Rulers cannot be as dumb and short-sighted as they are shown in the canon.
  You won't see the heroic Anderson. I'm sorry, but I'll show it the way I perceive it, taking into account the books I've read, the comic books, and the dialogues in the game.
  You won't see a dumb Rex. You don't have to prove to me that he's a little smarter than a stool. You won't find a tender and vibrant romantic story: the wrong characters are involved in it.
  There are still many things that you will not see from what is done in the canon, and vice versa, you will see things that are not shown in this canon itself or shown in a different way.
  
  Farther.
  
  The author is a woman. I love my uncle Обоснуй, and I'm friends with his sister, Logic. If I don't know something, it's a completely different matter.
  I am still a living person, and I have the right to make mistakes and ignorance.
  Keep this in mind. I'm not a galactic encyclopedia after all!
  
  The main character, on whose behalf the story is being narrated, is a woman.
  I want to note - A WOMAN! And not a man in a woman's carcass, a woman with balls and a man with boobs. Woman.
  Accordingly, she behaves like a woman, her priorities are somewhat different from those of men, the logic of actions, decision-making, and so on are feminine.
  There is no need to whistle about "female logic" and I will not say that there is no concept of "male logic" at all.
  
  The genre is geth.
  Not Jen.
  It is logical to assume that a romantic line will be developed.
  But!
  If you are waiting for pink snot and tossing in agonizing attempts to choose between men, this is not for me.
  GG is a practical and sensible woman. Not a romantic little girl-waiting-for-a-prince-on-a-white-spaceship, but a cynical, sensible bastard with a developed possessive instinct and not accustomed to denying herself what she wants and can get. Moreover, she knows exactly what she wants, because she is not used to lying to herself.
  Again, if you're looking for romance, you're not here.
  If you are waiting for a story about the tender and tremulous development of love, again, look for other fanfiction.
  
  If I need to describe sex for some purpose, I will describe it in as much detail as I need it. If not required, I will simply point out that such an event took place. Fic doesn't revolve around sex, but physical intimacy is also a facet of adult communication. It's an important facet that sometimes reveals very interesting character and relationship traits, so spare me the sanctimonious statements about "this is wrong," "this is immoral," "yes, how could she (they/ he)" and all in the same spirit. I still hope that the people reading my work are intelligent beings, and not bad teenagers with sperm splashing in their eyes and people who are not offended by life and consider physical intimacy to be something dirty and low.
  If polyandry bothers you, do not read. Don't get upset, and don't upset me. (again, this is most annoying for guys who have a great and trembling love for a harem of GG and a bunch of beauties who are ready to give themselves at any moment and idolize him).
  Oh, yes, I almost forgot. GG will have a relationship with the Turians. This is personal for those who are uncomfortable with relationships with aliens.
  Farther.
  A much-loved conflict that has been going on for 40 chapters (at the time of writing this introduction), and is definitely not going to end.
  ABOUT PEOPLE, HUMANITY and THE ALLIANCE
  Don't tell me what kind of people are good, decent, kind, noble, loyal, honest... (you can continue the list yourself). People are a mess... Bitchiness. Look at the real world if you have any doubts.
  Yes, there are UNIQUE specimens, decorations of our kind. There is. I know this. I know that HUMANITY has enormous potential. I know that people can be good, decent, kind, noble, loyal, honest, and so on. Can. But they don't want to. For the most part. They also laugh at them afterwards, like, look what a sucker. Which is sad.
  I don'T shit on people or humanity, I can shit on the ALLIANCE OF SYSTEMS. But it's just sinful not to shit on him. If you think otherwise, first deal with yourself and your thoughts. I write what I think without any hidden meanings or pitfalls. I'm warning you right away.
  
  About the Ghost and Cerberus
  There's a pancake...
  The ghost is still a pretentious and arrogant jerk, IMHO! To have SUCH an organization, SUCH opportunities, and so it's all fucked up... sorry, it's impractical to use...
  It is not necessary to say the very words that Cerberus can be destroyed. It gives me the creeps to imagine how many problems these gonds have... Um, offended high-class specialists can arrange. The reapers will be touched and surprised, looking at the pictures of destruction.
  
  The second MOST favorite stumbling block.
  About xenos, xenophobia and xenophilia
  For those who did not notice or did not pay attention, or simply did not understand, I will write that GG - Imrir Shepard is a hitman (reborn), she is a metamorph. In other words, he's not a fucking human anymore. She DOESN'T HAVE to love people and write with delight at the sight of her beloved humanity (and she was originally born a human being).
  The girl has common sense and quite adequately assesses the prospects of meeting with her native race, and specifically with Cerberus. Since she's far from stupid, she doesn't have the slightest desire to be on the laboratory table. And you'll never prove to me that she won't be there if the truth about her features comes out.
  As a metamorph with the ability to transform into anything, as an intelligent being who was reborn not only into humans, the concept of "race" had long since lost its meaning for her. For her, EVERYONE IS XENOS! And people too.
  The logical conclusion follows from this: she is deeply indifferent to the race of her friends and lovers. Only one criterion is important - personal qualities. Accordingly, the concepts of "xenophobia" and "xenophilia" in relation to this character are incorrect.
  And yes, personally, I (the author) don't like people very much, and I don't care who has what kind of face if I like the character.
  
  Farther.
  About the universe and the canon
  The AU warning, I believe, clarifies this question, but I'll add it anyway.
  I'm writing a fanfiction based on the Mass Effect. I rely on canonical events, while maintaining a VISIBLE correspondence to this canon, i.e., when viewed from the outside, there are no differences from the world described in ME1. I repeat, for those who are used to not noticing the text when reading: A VISIBLE MATCH! In the first chapter, in the words of GG, I describe how the embodied reality develops and according to what laws. Read carefully, or better yet, don't read at all.
  I do not pretend to write fiction with "rivets" (as they tried to prove to me), I am not going to make "a realistic book that describes the universe of ME as it should be." Everyone has their own understanding of what this reality should be. I have this. Kind of like everything. If I remember anything, I'll add it.
  If you are not repelled by the whole cart written above, have fun reading =)
  
  Rebirth: The Mass Effect
  Part 1: Under the Shadow of the Lord
  Chapter 1: Hello, new incarnation!
  The woman standing at the viewing screen suddenly screamed thinly and sank to the floor, writhing in short convulsions. His eyes rolled back in his head, his hands scrabbled on the metal floor, and wheezing and squawking came out of his throat.
  When she was found by two soldiers from the landing group, the woman was sleeping peacefully on the cabin floor. Attempts to wake her up did not lead to anything.
  "Darg, we're taking her to Chakwas, you never know what."
  "What if... This one?" The fighter waved his hand vaguely.
  "I'll distract him, if anything." Derg picked up the unconscious commander in his arms and carried her to the ship's infirmary.
  But the check showed nothing: the commander was perfectly healthy and her indicators were no different from the standard data of a sound sleeper.
  The tall man asked softly:
  "Doctor, what's wrong with her?"
  "Sorry, guys... I don't know." the doctor spread her hands in confusion.
  "How is she?"
  "The indicators are stable. Commander Shepard is just sleeping."
  "Let us know when she wakes up."
  "I'll give", The doctor nodded, without taking her eyes off the monitors. "Go ahead. In four hours for verification."
  The soldiers abruptly turned around and left the infirmary. The doctor sighed heavily and went back to work, carefully examining the readings taken during the strange attack.
  "Well, we ran into it." a powerful man, whom a colleague called Darg, muttered.
  "Accept it. I would have called anyway."
  Derg looked around the deserted dining room, looked out into the corridor.
  "Let's do the emergency stuff."
  The fighters quietly piled down the emergency stairs to their squad, and a dark-skinned man in the uniform of a captain of the Alliance of Systems Air Force did not see anyone coming down to the living deck.
  ***
  The agony of death still dominated my senses, but gradually the phantom pains subsided and subsided, allowing me to take control of my new body. My instincts and sense of danger were silent: my body was safe and no immediate action was required of me.
  There were sensations: I felt odors when I inhaled, a metallic taste on my tongue, stiffness of the couch, tingling in my fingertips. Synchronization has ended. My soul settled into a new place, the connections were restored, the aura began to slowly unfold, recreating layer by layer, and I launched a diagnostic of the body. I need to know who I've been thrown into this time.
  I was pleased with the result: the body is female, relatively healthy, human, at the peak of its development. An ideal option for rebuilding. Gradually, as my aura unfolds and I assimilate with my soul, my body will change, acquiring the properties that I have managed to consolidate. Regeneration will be activated first, and the soul will begin to adjust the body to itself. As soon as the inner layers unfold and form, the memory of the recipient whose body I occupied will begin to be absorbed.
  Was I sorry for the woman whose existence I had so abruptly ended? Not for a moment! My soul went into rebirth without damage and with a decent supply of energy, so the next birth will be extremely successful and happy - this is my compensation, a kind of payment for the interrupted life. And experience tells me that this woman's life would be... Stormy. Very violent and bloody. It doesn't throw me into other destinies...
  The second layer unfolded. The racing thoughts calmed down. My mind has cleared, my psyche has stabilized, as far as the concept of a stable psyche applies to me, and my mind has become clearer. The third layer will take several hours to open and give me power over my body. The fourth will unfold by the end of the day, and with the activation of the fifth, I will begin to absorb information from the host's brain. Means... sleep. A short mental command, and my mind obediently went out, plunging me into sleep.
  
  The unfolding of the layer has completed, awakening consciousness. A feeling of life appeared on the edge of perception, a beating of some powerful energy, and MEMORY unfolded in front of me. The memory of a woman named Imrir Shepard.
  Looking through the stingy, partially incomplete memories, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the realization of WHAT embodied reality I was thrown into this time!
  The Mass Effect!
  I never thought that I would ever be reborn in the embodied reality formed on the egregore of this game! I'm usually thrown into magical or less technically advanced worlds. And here is the first truly developed world, a space civilization and all that, and I had to get into THIS reality! No, well, it's necessary! The Mass Effect...
  I don't dispute that I liked the game in some ways, the universe is interesting, the characters are colorful, but there's no fucking desire to live in it! Moreover, there is a female variation of Shepard in the carcass, full of orphans and a hero... No, the Butcher of the ill-fated Torfan! Well, at least I didn't get into the paragon man, the hero of the Alliance, and that's good. But she could have. John and Jane are here.
  Can you die while the soul has not yet taken root and you can go to another life without getting a kickback from the lost reality? A short mental order, the heart stops, and hello, a new rebirth. And no Reapers for you!
  Just thinking about these creatures and the coming galactic Apocalypse made me feel deeply depressed and longed to escape to the next world. It's better to go back to the zombies! At least they're familiar and they don't bother you.
  Stop.
  Something got me carried away. The wave of emotions subsided as quickly as it had formed. Unpleasant. I have enough of my own tricks without serious problems with the disfigured psyche of the recipient, which will manifest themselves in such emotional outbursts until I gain full control over the body.
  A dull irritation arose.
  It was necessary to get into the carcass of a girl with such good mental problems because of an incredibly wonderful childhood on the street, tender youth and service in the army full of kindness and understanding of her neighbors. Have a nice rebirth, Imrir Shepard, and a quiet next life. You deserve it. Well, I'll live this extremely... um, interesting life instead of you.
  A wry smile barely curved the corners of his lips.
  What was it that my reborn colleague Estus used to say about a hundred-something life? I give this reality a chance to survive, and I will work for the benefit of others only in conditions that are comfortable for me. I will use his advice and example. I will create comfortable conditions for myself, using all the possibilities of a highly developed space civilization. It's worth refreshing my memory of the canon, since I decided not to immediately leave for rebirth and give this reality a chance to develop into a full-fledged self-sufficient universe.
  Until my mentalism is restored, I do not have access to the Citadel of Memory and the information stored in it, but I have retained some common memory, despite the passage of time and the shocks I have experienced. My attempts to recall the plot of the game were partially successful: I only remembered the first part of the trilogy well, the second part was rather fragmentary, but the third one was safely blurred in my memory into a hodgepodge of fragmentary frames containing only the most vivid plot twists. However, this is enough for the first time. In a month, the aura deployment will be completed, and I will have access to my database of known egregors, which I have so carefully collected from my own memories.
  Well, to hell with them, with my memories. Right now, the recipient's memory is more important to me. Judging by what I was displeased to learn, I was VERY lucky, and I got to the very beginning of the Branching of Reality, before the beginning of the canonical events.
  Good. What do I have at the moment? And I have an experimental trough of exorbitant value and dubious value, released on the first autonomous flight with Spectr on board, which suddenly joined this poorhouse at the last moment. Why the poorhouse? And what can you call the process of rolling over a new ship if it has only a normal engineering crew on board, and the crew is recruited by a captain from * young and promising military personnel*, in other words, youngsters recently graduated from the Academy? Of the experienced officers on board, only XO Pressley and Dr. Chakwas. Well, Captain Anderson, whose professional aptitude I personally have reasonable doubts about: if memory serves, the brave captain, like my recipient, graduated from the N7 Academy and, before the fateful meeting with Saren, served as commander of an amphibious unit on the frigate Gatling. How Anderson became a captain is the mystery of the chimerologist's journal.
  The engineering section of *Normandy* does not cause any complaints: all the specialists are there, recruited personally by chief engineer Adams, thanks to whom this prototype is still flying at all.
  The pilot of the prototype is indeed the notorious Jeff "Joker" Moreau. In fact, he is a disabled person with a rare and virtually fatal genetic disease. I can't help but note that he is a really brilliant pilot, but he has a character...
  To make matters worse, there is no co-pilot on board! If something happens to the Joker, and this is quite likely, you will have to row with oars. The entire crew.
  An outside thought flashed by: I wonder if he was really taken on board the ship thanks to the intercession of the Turian general after he HIJACKED Normandy?
  The situation is to hug and cry! But such is the peculiarity of embodied reality, which ALWAYS coincides with the canon of the egregore according to which it was embodied, sometimes even in the strangest and stupidest little things, from which one can only quietly marvel or swear loudly. The question is different. What are the differences in what is not covered by the canon? And what can these differences give me?
  The first difference is already pleasing: there is a normal combat landing group of ten snouts on board the Normandy, commanded by my recipient, Commander Imrir Shepard, a twenty-eight-year-old orphan who miraculously escaped from Earth.
  I can't say what *Normandy* itself is, because my technical knowledge is lame: rebirths into underdeveloped or magical worlds take their toll. Yes, and Chaos with her, with * Normandy*. Flying is fine. Something else is worse. There was no important information about the Citadel Space and other races in my recipient's red head. Only publicly available information. The interests of this lovely person in relation to other species had only one, extremely narrow side - how they could be most effectively killed.
  It's annoying. You will have to fill in the information gaps yourself.
  Can I really die before it's too late?
  The thought of actually running away flashed and disappeared, crushed by burning curiosity. When else will I have the opportunity to go to space? Who knows? And here... here... Well, yes...
  I have only three years to live, and I'm guaranteed to die at the end of the story, and more than one. Maybe if you can rock reality properly, you can live longer? No, actually, I was already so sick of these worlds of sword and sorcery with all the dubious charms of the Dark Ages and rampant religiosity that the desire to live at least a little in a civilized society outweighed the risks and future problems. Moreover, this reality can be pushed off the beaten track extremely easily: just do NOTHING and let the unforgettable Saren Arterius begin the Harvest. And what? For me, as a reborn person, the option is the simplest and most convenient. Reality will continue to evolve, and I'll get the buns I'm supposed to get, though not as much as I got for saving this Cycle. But without unnecessary hassle, which, often, is not covered at all by the bonuses received.
  We'll see. Will I try to save this Cycle or will I join the main antagonist aboard the Lord, this will show the near future and communication with the local population and key personalities.
  My lazy thoughts about the meaning of my current life were interrupted by the rustle of opening doors and barely audible footsteps. Stop lying around, Imrir, it's time to get to know a new world. Fortunately, the upcoming meeting with the Protean lighthouse will allow us to write off many oddities and extensive memory lapses on him, and the status of the Spectrum will allow us to escape from the watchful eye of our superiors.
  A smile curved her lips against her will. Imrir! The name was definitely given by people with humor! It's necessary... The Light of Darkness!
  And what? I like. I'll keep him, since his real name has not been preserved in memory after the collapse of the first personality.
  
  Blinking in the bright light, I opened my eyes. A soft cry, the rustle of clothes. I carefully propped myself up on my elbows, peering at the ash-haired woman who came up to me. Whatever her name is... Karin Chakvas, trauma surgeon, staff physician in Normandy.
  "Commander Shepard!" Karin's voice turned out to be very pleasant, low and full of sincere concern.
  "Doctor? What happened? Why am I in the infirmary?"
  "Is unknown." The doctor stared intently into my face with intelligent gray eyes. Darg and Dylan brought you to the infirmary after they couldn't wake you up. I found no injuries or abnormalities, as well as traces of sleeping pills.
  "That's how..." I nodded slowly. The agony of death, as always, ricocheted through the body. Things happen. "But?"
  "But I couldn't wake you up until you woke up yourself."
  "Strangely, I feel quite well. Where are we?"
  The doctor understood my question quite correctly:
  "We've just come out of the repeater and are heading to Eden Prime."
  Eden Prime. The key, one might say, the basic point of this reality, which gave rise to the whole story.
  At least I was lucky here: I got to the beginning of the canonical events and you can make changes from the very beginning, avoiding unnecessary losses. If she had moved in at the beginning of the third part, she would have immediately gone into rebirth, because it would have been impossible to change anything, since even the Harvest that began on time is the canonical conclusion of the history of the egregor and leads to the collapse of the universe.
  
  As practice has shown, the first distortion is always extremely difficult. Reality does not want to deviate from the *canon*, from the matrix according to which it was embodied. For the first time, I can only change ONE THING, and that's without much chance of success. But just what? WHAT will give me the greatest advantage in the future, regardless of my choice?
  If you squeeze out minor and unimportant events, the entire chain consists of only two key points: meeting with the lighthouse and obtaining Spectr status. It's pointless to change it - it won't work anyway. Strangely, proving Saren's betrayal is not an immutable condition, I feel it very clearly.
  Is it strange? Maybe... Or maybe not.
  Meeting with the lighthouse is clear, it guarantees to attract the attention of Saren Arterius and further hunt for me. After Eden Prime, I'll be his number one enemy.
  By the way, why?
  Is it really just because of the lighthouse? The information in it is completely useless, and Saren knows it perfectly well. Is there any other reason? Most likely, yes. But which one? What could possibly drive this cold-blooded and practical creature into such a rage and generate such hatred for me? To clarify: to me PERSONALLY.
  What's going to happen on Eden Prime?
  The death of Jenkins? Saren doesn't care about people. The death of Nihlus? So he'll shoot him himself. Will information about his involvement in the attack come to light? Doubtful. He is a Spectr. In fact, he is a living legend. They'll believe him sooner than they'll believe us, and there won't be any hard evidence. Well, really, don't count the testimony of an amateur smuggler, a psychotic scientist, and a dubious audio recording presented by a Quarian, given that she was boarded up at the embassy, if I remember this moment correctly?
  What will ACTUALLY convince the Council of the betrayal of the legendary Spectr?
  Good questions, but I don't have the answers.
  I'm NOT sure what's really going to happen at Eden Prime. What will make us enemies?
  The Lord? Doubtful. To the Reaper, I am nothing at all, and my name is *rudimentary*, one of the countless bugs he has encountered during his existence.
  Or is it the death of Nihlus?
  Yes, Saren would kill him himself. But... but. A slippery moment. It all depends on whether he shoots of his own free will or under the influence of the Lord. If the first is Kraik's death, it means nothing to him. But if it's the latter... Then I can understand his hatred: Nihlus ended up on Eden Prime because of me. It's a good point of focus. Especially if the Overlord redirects the attention and emotions of the constantly bucking Turian to her.
  It is a pity that the canon does not provide answers to these questions.
  Farther.
  Getting Spectr status as a key point can also be understood: it will give me some autonomy and allow me to direct all my efforts to hunt the antagonist without the command of the Alliance MCF hanging behind my back.
  Well yeah.. autonomy. Remember. Shepard, fly over there, Shepard, fly over here, and don't forget your underwear from the laundry and bring a cup of coffee so it doesn't get cold on the way. And bring a bucket of vaseline with a pack of condoms: we'll be there for you... to remember and to remember again. The whole state.
  I got carried away again.
  Let's return to the analysis of the situation.
  Why is it not important to prove Saren's betrayal?
  Do they know about him yet? Possible, but doubtful.
  Will the information come up in other ways? More than likely. Vakarian conducted the investigation until the protagonist's arrival at the Citadel. This investigation provoked something. He hadn't spent it in a couple of days, which had passed since the attack on the colony and before the ship arrived at the Citadel. Or is it just one of the game world's shoals? I don't know. There's also Tali from that ill-fated recording. Questionable evidence, it should be noted.
  Let's go in from the other side.
  What does this very proof of Saren's betrayal give me?
  After this process, Garrus Vakarian, Tali'Zora and Urdnot Rex can appear in the team, and I get the status of a Spectr, a ship and a dangerous enemy. The status is a fixed point. Am I going to get it under any circumstances? Oddly enough, yes. I'll get an enemy anyway, too.
  A ship? I'll get it too.
  The team? Op-pa... but they are just an optional result.
  If you remember the canon, I can do all the tasks based only on people. In the embodied reality, the same principles apply, only in case of failure, there simply won't be a single alien on board the ship, and they are EXTREMELY important for many plot twists.
  Branching reality.
  I can go two ways: provoke the Harvest, or follow the canonical path and destroy Saren and the Overlord. This is ACCEPTABLE. And I can also die before the nodal point of reality - the Lazarus project, which is also acceptable, and then another hero will take my place and lead this reality along the beaten path to death from disintegration, and I will go to rebirth without a rollback, but also without the buns that I can get if I fulfill my mission a job.
  This is, of course, entertaining, but the answer to the question is *What is so important going to happen on Eden Prime?* does not give.
  We must think. And quickly!
  "Thank you, Dr. Chakwas. Can I go now?"
  "Your condition is stable now." Chakwas replied. "Yes, you can go. But you will come for an examination in the evening."
  "Yes, ma'am."
  I stood up. I need to get myself in order and report to my immediate superiors that I'm alive and ready to work.
  However, I was not given much time, as the intercom informed me that I was expected in the briefing room. Then I'll crawl around the ship, poke my curious nose everywhere, but for now... In the meantime, I'm going to get acquainted with one ambiguous person who died so quickly in the canon. At the same time, I'll decide whether I should fight for his life or not.
  I hadn't even reached the stairs when a body bursting with enthusiasm flew up to me and gave me away:
  "Commander Shepard! I am so glad to work under your leadership..."
  What?
  I stared in complete shock at the young soldier with the stripes of a corporal.
  So, this is definitely not Alyonka. This... Oh, that...
  "Corporal Jenkins, ma'am!" it body confirmed my conclusions.
  "Corporal, I'm in command of a full-strength landing team, and you're not part of it." I replied calmly.
  "Captain Anderson said that I will participate in the landing with you on Eden Prime! Ma'am!"
  What will it be? No, no, no, I don't need that kind of happiness!!! I have a normal landing party!
  I'm somewhat disappointed by this prospect... She was taken aback, and the corporal with the meaningful name continued to spill like a potion that had escaped from a cauldron:
  "I come from Eden Prime! I can't wait for us to land on the planet! I'm itching for the real deal!"
  And my hands itch to bury this miracle in the metal floor of the ship and say that it has always been like this! But the exalted brat with hero syndrome wasn't enough for a combat mission!
  As if confirming all my fears, it body gave out:
  "I'm sorry, Commander, but I'm going to die from waiting! This is the first time I've had such a task! And the Spectr is on board!"
  I already sympathize with the Spectr. And myself, too. I've never seen more of the Spectr in my life. At this rate, I can only see him in the hold before landing!
  "The Corporal!" I interrupted Jenkins' verbal diarrhea. "Don't rush to become heroes, do your job, follow orders and there won't be any problems."
  "That's easy for you to say, ma'am." the guy got upset. "You've proved yourself on the Torfan. Everyone knows what you are capable of!"
  It's good that NO ONE knows what I'm capable of! And it's a good thing I wasn't on that Torfan!
  "For me, this is a chance to show my superiors what I'm capable of!" The brave soldier persisted.
  You can die stupidly! The corporal opened his mouth to continue talking, and I realized that if he didn't just shut up, I would kill him myself, and the as yet unknown Nihlus Kraik would have to look for another candidate! The Corporal! I was glad to meet you. You can be free. And I pushed aside the stunned body and walked quickly to the command deck.
  Chapter 1.2. Speak with Spectr
   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.
  Chapter 2: Eden Prime: Losses
  The crimson colors of the sunset flooded the silent world with blood. The sun was slowly sinking below the horizon, blinding sensitive eyes, and it smelled acutely of smoke and burning. A tall building in the distance smelled of heavy smoke from a fire. The trees rustled softly, the dry soil creaked under the soles. A heavy, oppressive picture.
  Alenko shivered.
  "It smells of smoke and death." The fighter's quiet, hoarse voice sounded organic in the atmosphere of a world drowning in sunset.
  I nodded silently, lowering my visor. The sniper rifle clicked softly, coming into firing position. I don't like rushing headlong into the unknown. I may remember the canon, but my knowledge has already been blurred by time, and I cannot guarantee its absolute accuracy. Embodied reality is not a game. Minor changes that do not affect the key chain of events are quite normal and can easily cost me my life.
  "Let's go."
  The fighters followed me, looking warily around, only Alenko muttered softly: *Damn!*, plunging into a murky greenish slush. Nihlus landed a little earlier. I really hope that he interprets my warning correctly, and I won't find him on that ill-fated spaceport in a pool of blood and with his head smashed open. That would be extremely insulting and annoying. He can be too useful in the future. Anyway, he's interesting. It would be a pity if he died because of absolute trust.
  Alenko grumbled, trying to wipe the smelly green stuff off his shoes. That's how he managed not to notice this huge puddle? And I was hoping that the real Kayden was at least a little different from his canonical image. Right now! A pretty face with an eternally wistful expression and universal sorrow in brown eyes, caused only a desire to slap a good one on the back of the head so that he could think faster and stop slowing down. He seems to be a handsome man, but... Let's see what kind of fighter and biotic he is. I hope he doesn't disappoint me completely.
  "Alenko, finish cleaning and be careful."
  Kayden lowered his head in embarrassment, carefully wiping his shoe. Shame on him, asshole. Well, you have to look at your feet! What if there was something more serious? Is there a mine, toxic stuff, or something else equally kind? I would like to throw it into ancient tombs, in which traps are set under every convenient cobblestone. I would have learned quickly not to click himself beak. If he had survived the first day and the first kilometer.
  And the demons were with him, with Kayden. I went forward, motioning for the fighters to follow me. We found the first bodies on a rock very close to the landing point: black, burnt to slag, they lay losing their greasy ashes in the gusts of wind. Alenko shuddered.
  "What happened here?"
  "We'll find out soon enough." catching the fighter's gaze, I dryly retorted: "Stop being hysterical! It's like seeing a corpse for the first time!"
  Kayden looked down and shut up, and I walked slowly forward. A little further on, there are more bodies scattered along the road. The same burnt ones, crumbling into pieces of ashes and more smoldering coals.
  A barely audible whistling sound made me abruptly raise my clenched fist. The soldiers froze, listening to the whistling of the wind. Was it just my imagination? It shouldn't be... There are three Geth drones out there somewhere. I pointed my fingers at my eyes and waved my hand. Jenkins nodded, examined the bushes and trees, cautiously stepped out onto the road and... slowly stomped towards the cobblestone chosen as a shelter.
  I wanted to give a kick to speed up.
  The drones appeared unexpectedly, emerging from behind a large rock. There was a short burst of blue pulses, and Jenkins, with a muffled cry, collapsed onto the road.
  The sniper rifle jerked in his hands, and the drone fell to the ground, sparking and smoking. The subtle beep of reloading, catching the next one in the sights, firing. Alenko took off the last one.
  Damn it! Three flying things and immediately - a corpse on the ground! That's how you could put yourself up like that? Lowering my weapon, I cautiously approached the fighter's body. Is dead. And here's the reason: I forgot to turn on the kinetic shield. Once again, inattention and clumsiness caused a stupid death...
  A confused Alenko stopped nearby.
  "Jenkins..."
  "He's dead! Alenko, take cover!" I growled, hiding behind a rock.
  "But Jenkins!" the biotic pointed to the corpse, as if I hadn't just made sure there was no pulse.
  "In! Shelter!"
  Alenko nodded curtly, frowning at me. What did you expect, I'm going to be hysterical and upset? Just the case! Jenkins, somewhere in the depths of my callous soul, was still a pity. A little bit. A self-confident, enthusiastic young guy whose life was so stupidly cut short at the very beginning. I remember him bragging to Dr. Chakwas. Unfortunately, such people are the first to die. It's good if you're alone, without dragging everyone else down with you.
  I moved forward, moving from stone to stone. These drones are not the only ones here.
  The connection clicked softly and Nihlus reported:
  "Shepard, there are several burnt-out buildings and a lo-ot of corpses." A vibrating voice stretched it out *a lot*, letting me appreciate the scale of the tragedy. "I'll try to scout out the situation and meet you at the excavation site."
  "Don't you remember what you said before we landed?" I asked quietly.
  A short pause and a muffled reply:
  "I remember."
  "Don't disappoint me, Nihlus. I don't want to find your body. Jenkins is enough for me."
  "Died?"
  "He died. Try not to add to our losses."
  The connection is gone. Alenko looked at me strangely, but, thank all the gods of this reality, if they are here, he did not comment in any way.
  "Be careful! Alenko! These drones are not the only ones here!"
  The fighter shuddered, tightened his grip on the rifle and slowly walked forward.
  "And move!"
  The biotic shuddered and stomped faster.
  I walked a little to the side, peering into the rustling foliage, at the massive tree trunks, at the boulders. The drones attacked twice more, but now, knowing what to expect, they were easily killed. Only Kayden had taken a couple of shots in the shoulder, and now, hissing obscenities, he was treating his wounds with panacelin, trying not to meet my eyes. Shame on the parasite!
  How can you be so clumsy? I wish I had a migraine, but no...
  Shots rang out ahead. Kayden jumped up and grabbed his weapon.
  "Finish the dressing. I'll check it out."
  The fighter nodded and returned to the treatment, and I climbed up a small hill and peered through the scope, peering into a rather vast valley stretching along steep hills to the excavation site, whose lamps dispersed the sunset twilight with bright arrows of white light.
  Gunshots and the already familiar drone whistle sounded closer, a woman in gray-steel armor jumped out from behind the rocks, slipped, caught a shot in the back, absorbed by the bluish film of the shield. Ashley Williams. A short thrust of the butt into the shoulder, the drone somersaulted in the air and crashed to the ground. Ashley rolled head over heels behind a rock, removing the last one and catching another shot. There were no storyline getaways, but there was a body on a spike behind a huge stone, and more than one, fortunately, it was still fresh, and you didn't have to wait for husk's from here for another couple of hours.
  I examined the area carefully. There are no enemies. No drones, no Geth, no Husk's that are still maturing. Grabbing my rifle, I slid down the slope and went to Ashley, standing behind a large rock so as not to run into a stray shot.
  The woman noticed me.
  "Thanks for the help." she gasped, getting to her feet. "I couldn't even hope to survive."
  "Don't thank me."
  I left the end of the sentence unsaid. Why upset her and tell her that we didn't come to rescue her, but to carry out a very specific task: to pick up a lighthouse from the planet. It did not include saving people. Will you be able to save someone on the way? Good. It won't work... Well, we're not a rescue service. Although, I think Kayden won't understand or approve of such an attitude.
  "Who are you?"
  "Sergeant Ashley Williams," the woman replied clearly, giving a short salute. "Platoon 212."
  Well, at least she didn't stand at attention and didn't come out from behind the shelter. And that's good.
  "Commander Imrir Shepard," I said. "She arrived on the frigate of the Alliance Air Force Normandy."
  Behind him, pebbles began to fall from the slope. I spun around, raising the rifle, and clung to the scope, but quickly lowered it: Kayden, having finished bandaging, was coming down to us, holding the assault rifle with one hand.
  "Lieutenant Kayden Alenko." I introduced the clumsy one.
  I stood up, but I didn't put the rifle away in a non-combat position. Imrir was good at handling this type of weapon, but I got some of her skills, and the weapon was pleasantly soothing. Of course, the skill would have to be honed, and I even knew who would help me in this good deed. In the future.
  Ashley greeted Kayden briefly, quickly introducing herself to him.
  "What happened here, Sergeant?"
  The woman sighed wearily.
  "We missed the start of the attack, ma'am. Our squad was patrolling the perimeter when the attack began. We tried to send a distress signal, but the enemies were jamming the communication."
  "We have received your signal. Where are the rest of your squad?"
  "They died. We tried to return to the lighthouse, but were ambushed."
  "Who attacked you?"
  "The Geth, ma'am."
  "The Geth have not been seen outside the Veil for almost two hundred years!" Kayden exclaimed. "What are they doing here?"
  "I guess they came for the lighthouse." I replied. "I don't think there was anything more valuable on Eden Prime than a functioning Prothean device."
  "That's quite possible, ma'am. Excavations were carried out here to build a railway and expand the colony. A few weeks ago, workers dug up the Prothean ruins." Ashley grimaced. "And suddenly the whole colony seemed to be obsessed with this lighthouse. We were sent to guard him."
  "Was he working?"
  "As far as I know, yes. I don't know much about it myself, but one of the scientists said it could be the greatest discovery of the century."
  "We need to pick up the lighthouse. Sergeant, take us to the excavation site."
  "That's right, ma'am."
  That's the good thing about Ashley, so it's not the habit of arguing with the commander. Is it said to spend? That means he will. And why, it was none of her business. Although his eyes twinkled with curiosity. I didn't have to go far.
  After half a kilometer, we came to a small lowland, a little further than which, behind piles of cobblestones and fragments of rocks, the excavation site and the Geth scurrying through it, beautifully illuminated by numerous searchlights, could be seen. At this distance, even the optics of the rifle did not allow me to examine the synthetics in more detail, but, sensibly reasoning that I could easily examine their broken platforms in all details, I pressed the trigger. The Geth, hiding behind a rock, somersaulted from the impact of a heavy bullet and sank to the ground. The creatures got nervous, scattering into hiding, and I shot them down steadily and methodically, preventing them from leaning out and approaching the range of fire, fortunately, these Geth did not carry sniper weapons.
   Of course, they didn't have any canonical light bulb in their heads. A complex optical system took its place, which is quite logical.
  Kayden's attempts to rush into battle were cut short by a short mat and Ashley's hand, which pulled him behind cover. Shots slammed into the stone, where his evil head had been a moment ago, knocking out fountains of stone chips.
  "Alenko!" I looked up from the optics and shook my head reproachfully.
  Alenko just cringed guiltily and lowered his eyes.
  "Check it out."
  Ashley and Kayden turned to the right, skirting a wide stone disk in an arc, hiding behind huge boulders. Shots rang out, and the geth screamed thinly. I must have really missed someone.
  "Clear." Ashley's back.
  I put the rifle away and came out of hiding. The ancient ruins spread out before me in all their glory... It sounds like it! In fact, all I saw was a shallow excavation with an excavated massive double disc of yellowish stone and a pair of collapsed columns, whose purpose will remain lost in the darkness of history. The lighthouse, tellingly, is missing.
  "As I understand it, the lighthouse was here?" I nodded at the playground.
  Ashley nodded:
  "Yes, it was dug up here. Apparently, they've already rescheduled it."
  "Who! Ours or the Geth?" Kayden asked.
  "It's hard to say." The woman shrugged her shoulders. "Let's check out the research camp and maybe find out more."
  "Do you think anyone survived?" he asked.
  Ashley shrugged her shoulders.
  "Maybe they survived if they hid. The camp is over there."
  The woman waved her hand, pointing to the hill at the base of which the lighthouse was found.
  The connection clicked.
  "Plans are changing, Shepard." Nihlus' low voice sounded tense. "There is a small spaceport here. I'll check it out. I'll be waiting there."
  I didn't answer, looking around the neighborhood: the decision has been made, and my words are unlikely to change it.
  I didn't find anything interesting. The tripods I already knew with the bodies of people strung on spikes stood in disarray along the ruins, but the rebuilding process had just begun and was not outwardly noticeable, although I could see the limbs of the definitely dead people twitching slightly.
  "To string on a stake ... Instead of shooting him... Shouldn't that make sense?" Ashley whispered, looking away.
  "They intimidate as." Kayden muttered.
  I turned over the Geth corpse and shook my head.
  "These are synthetics, Kayden. They act from the point of view of cold logic, but not emotions. They can't bully. They just don't know what it is. It makes some kind of sense. Rational."
  Geth stared up at the bloody skies. A massive humanoid creature with an elongated metal head, light black armor covering the sternum, shoulders, partially legs, and three-fingered hands. Geth's flesh was dark, almost black, as if twisted from tourniquets and pseudo-muscles, faintly glowing with bluish lights that slowly but surely went out.
  "An interesting creature." I stood up abruptly. "Let's check out the research camp. And try not to expose yourself."
  A well-trodden path led to the camp, winding along the very edge of a steep rocky hill. It's wide enough to walk comfortably, but not wide enough for even a small military vehicle to pass through. The path wound between hefty boulders, hiding the town ahead.
  Unlike the game world, the camp turned out to be quite large: about a dozen modular buildings, a small warehouse and an airstrip, now littered with bodies and bristling with a palisade of Geth stakes. Some of the train houses were smoking greasy smoke, in some places the flames of a dying fire were still visible, charred bodies of humans and Geth lay on the ground in the craters of the explosions. A small military truck was burning down peacefully at the edge of the road to the spaceport.
  A soft rustle sounded a little to the side of us. Kayden flinched and spun around.
  "My mother! What is it?"
  I turned around, peeking out from behind the stone. As I watched, the spikes folded, retracting into the support, and the body, which had previously hung limply on the stake, convulsively moved.
  "It's a husk!" Ashley whispered, raising the shotgun.
  This creature looked like a dead zombie, raised by a half-educated necromancer who had screwed up during the formation of the ritual. The shrunken skin split, exposing bluish muscles intertwined with strange growths, blue lights of implants and metal parts glittered through the altered flesh, glowing eyepieces instead of eyes. It's disgusting! But this is an extremely dangerous abomination!
  "He's still alive!"
  "Kayden!" I couldn't resist cursing. "SHOOT!"
  The short-lived battle with the Husk's has put the last points in the situation on Eden Prime. Now even the stubborn Alenko did not ask stupid questions, looking at the bodies hanging on pins. His attempt to shoot them was stopped by a short phrase:
  "They're already dead. It's useless to shoot until the transformation is over."
  The biotic lowered his head, nodded briefly, slightly shrugging his shoulders. His emotions were so strong that I could feel them even at the initial stage of empathy development: fear and disgust.
  He was impressed by the husk's.
  Unpleasant creatures, no doubt, but nothing more. They don't have long-range weapons, they have speed... significantly exceeds the speed of a human. They are agile. They are very strong physically. Extremely dangerous at close range. Wounds to the body and neck are treated indifferently. A headshot kills you outright. Hitting other parts of the body doesn't even slow it down. Ordinary, unremarkable zombies, except that they don't try to eat and they can't stand the infection. And they don't stink. Nothing special. There are hundreds of such items in ancient burial grounds of varying degrees of contamination.
  I wonder if the creation of husk's is a Geth technology, or did the Sovereyn share it out of the kindness of his heart? We should ask Saren if possible, we'll have at least a couple of interesting conversations anyway.
  While Kayden was meditating on a high-tech zombie, Ashley wasted no time checking the surviving houses.
  "Commander! The security system is enabled here!" The fighter waved her hand, pointing to one of the modular buildings.
  "Crack it."
  Ashley nodded, bent over the lock plate, and I noticed the golden sheen of the instrument. The lock gave up quickly, with a slightly muffled squeak. The doors opened.
  "Commander, there are survivors!"
  With a short shout, I brought Alenko back to reality and entered the modular house. Two scientists, a man and a woman, huddled fearfully in a dark room. People sincerely thanked us, glancing fearfully at the street, which was slowly being flooded by the coming darkness. It will be dark soon.
  "I know you! You're Dr. Warren!" Ashley roused herself. "You led the research!"
  The woman nodded. Tall, thin, with short dark red hair, she was perfectly in control of herself, unlike the hysterically terrified man huddled against the wall.
  "What happened to the lighthouse?" I asked.
  "He was transferred to the spaceport yesterday. We stayed behind to help break up the camp."
  The Doctor sobbed, but quickly pulled herself together.
  "Excuse me."
  "What can you tell us?"
  The scientists could tell us a little. A strange ship in the sky, an unexpected attack, the death of the soldiers protecting them, husk's. A small End of the World in a separate world. Dr. Manuel was whimpering softly, huddled against the wall, staring at me with a half-crazed look. The poor guy's world cracked and couldn't come together. Ashley looked at the man sympathetically, Alenko - disgustedly.
  But in vain. Crazy people sometimes see a lot more... Insanity did not make them blind and deaf, nor did it reduce their mental acuity and powers of observation.
  "Tell me," I asked cautiously, turning on the recording. "Have you seen a Turian here?"
  "I saw it!" The man suddenly said with fanaticism in his voice. "He is a Prophet! Leading our enemies into battle!"
  Either I don't understand something, or this psycho saw Saren.
  "It's impossible! Nihlus was with us on board the Normandy!" Kayden was quite reasonably indignant. "He couldn't have attacked!"
  Dr. Warren looked confused.
  "Oh, I'm sorry! Manuel is a little bit... I'm not himself." The woman said guiltily. "We didn't see the Turian."
  "Perhaps YOU haven't seen it." I caught Manuel's eye. "Doctor, tell me, did you really see a Turian?"
  "Yes! A prophet in white armor! I saw him!"
  "But..." Kayden blinked in surprise. "Nihlus has black armor."
  "Apparently, he's not the only Turian on this planet." I said grimly. "Ashley, do you know if there were any Turians in the colony?"
  "No, ma'am. There were no aliens on the planet." Williams said proudly.
  "It's interesting..." I muttered, switching on the comm. "Nihlus?!"
  "Shepard?" the answer came immediately.
  "We found the survivors in the research camp. Dr. Manuel says he saw a Turian in white armor, as he put it, *leading our enemies into battle*."
  I tactfully kept silent about the doctor's mental state. Moreover, he is right.
  The pause dragged on, and an icy wave of apprehension swept down my spine.
  "I understood." Nihlus answered briefly and somehow lifelessly.
  The connection abruptly disappeared.
  "Holy shit... It can't be!"
  "Doctor, you'd better stay here. The area has been cleared and will be practically safe for another couple of hours until the morphing of the huskies ends."
  The Doctor nodded.
  "Ashley, take us to the spaceport. Quickly!"
  After saying goodbye to the scientists, we left the cabin. The lock turned purple, switching back to the *locked* position.
  "Commander, do you really believe this madman?" Kayden asked quietly.
  I didn't even slow down.
  "Yeas. I believe that Manuel really saw the Turian. But who is he? Where did Eden Prime come from? And what is he doing here with the Geth? Ashley, where should I go?"
  "Here. It's very close here!"
  
  It took us about fifteen minutes to get to the spaceport. On the way, we only met a couple of Geth and a lone Husk. Behind the trees, buildings and a small take-off pad appeared, and the two-kilometer-long giant of the Soveren, almost black in the setting sun.
  Alenko swore under his breath, staring at the huge ship.
  "What is it?"
  "A ship, of course." I muttered, looking at the Reaper wrapped in scarlet lightning.
  The launching Soveren hummed and howled, blotting out the sky with its massive bulk. If he left, it means that Saren has already visited the lighthouse, and Nihlus... Damn, the way he said *I got it* still makes my skin crawl!
  "Faster!"
  The Soveren folded his paws and disappeared into the bloody sky, and we ran down to the spaceport.
  "Kayden, look around the houses. Ashley, cover him."
  "Commander!"
  "NOW!"
  "Yes, ma'am."
  Throwing a grenade at the rising husk, I shot the geth who emerged from behind the box, flying out onto the spaceport platform. Quick inspection. The assault rifle in his hands fired a short burst, cutting off two synthetics. A grenade exploded somewhere to the side. I turned behind a massive container and gasped for air. Nihlus Kraik lay on the light gray slab of the runway in a pool of dark blue blood.
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