After visiting Pallin, Garrus took us to the C-SEC arsenal: due to his dismissal, he needed to hand over his weapons, resolve some issues with the quartermaster, transfer cases and pick up things from the office, and I faced the problem of providing for my combat team.
I actually have Garrus and Rex. Dylan and Darg are still in limbo, as is Tali. But let's say I get them. In total, there are four combat-ready men, a seriously wounded mentor and an engineer girl, whom being released into battle is a guaranteed kill. Not thick, but not bad either. Oh, and then there's Ashley and Kayden.
I'm sure about Darg and Dylan. Although they worked with my recipient, they didn't feel much affection for the girl: she had a different personality. Imrir pushed others away from her. I didn't make that mistake again, and in four days I worked well with the guys, earning them, if not friendship, then at least hints of it.
I didn't make that mistake again, and in four days I worked well with the guys, earning them, if not friendship, then at least hints of it. Dylan has already said that the appointment as a Spectrum and the meeting with the Lighthouse had a beneficial effect on me. If he knew... maybe later I'll tell you what really happened.
Garrus is an excellent marksman and, if I'm not mistaken, a good technician. He's supposed to be able to work with explosives, but I'm not sure. I'll check with him later. He will be a loyal friend and colleague in the future. If Kanon is not lying, Vakarian is capable of exceptional loyalty, and he will give me his loyalty if I can earn his trust. The fact that he agreed to come with me is already a sign of trust. His embryo. If I don't betray that trust, I'll get the most loyal friend I can find in this reality.
Nihlus... I find it difficult to say what my supervisor knows and knows how to do. My after-knowledge couldn't help me in any way: his identity is not revealed at all in the canon. Nothing is really known about him. He is a dark horse, the only one living in this reality who has already fallen out of his destiny. He can change it, bend it to suit his needs, just like me, without fear of getting an irresistible counteraction in the form of an infinity of unpredictable coincidences. And the fact that I have already had the opportunity to observe, gives every reason to believe that we will work well together.
Rex. A Master of War, a biotic. A very smart guy, perfectly pretending to be a short-sighted bully. His real level is a mystery shrouded in Darkness, but he is definitely an extraordinary warrior to have lived to his seven hundred years. I'll clarify: Krogan years, and the year on Tuchanka will be somewhat more authentic than the earthly one.
Tali? A naive teenager, released into the big world, which he knows only from the stories of his elders. A good engineer. Her devotion to the Migrating Fleet is absolute and, to some extent, close to deification, which in the canon caused her to make a wrong choice and drove her to suicide. She is like a precious stone, from which you must first chop off all the excess, cut, polish, and only then she will sparkle. There will be a lot of tinkering with it, but the result is worth it.
I have an extremely interesting and extraordinary team emerging. The main thing is to make sure that they work together properly without unnecessary fuss and problems from scratch, and then I will get just great colleagues and friends. But what about Ashley and Kayden? Well, yes... That's the million dollar question.
They're not bad people. Ashley is a hereditary military man with good training, Kayden is a strong biotic, who just needs another implant. And this is real, though expensive. The problem is something else: personal qualities.
Kayden... the memory of the canonical Horizon and the actions of the real Kayden on Eden Prime questioned his usefulness. So far, there are too many problems from Alenko, as well as from his loyalty to the command of the Air Force. I don't need a reasonable person on the ship who blindly believes in the ideals preached by the Alliance, which have nothing to do with reality. Moreover, he is capable of betraying for the sake of these ideals. And even more so, we don't need someone who is unable to rationally assess their actions and their results. The incident at "Leap Zero" and the way Kayden still perceives it is an excellent indicator of the complete lack of brains and the ability to think critically. In four days, I've learned more about this freaking "Zero Leap" than I would have liked. As well as about what caused the unfortunate incident.
Ashley is a good soldier, raised in a hereditary military family, disciplined, diligent, follows orders from the commander without question, but these same advantages become disadvantages once their owner gets into a different environment. I don't need soldiers on board. I need those who have always been called warriors.
As I walked through C-SEC, I tried to remember which of the reasonable ones I could get to this God-damned key point with my pretentious death. I have no right to touch those whom the Ghost will impose on my team: reality will not allow it. We need to look for someone else. But who? I don't know. Let's see, maybe someone will appear on the horizon, but now it's worth worrying about purely domestic problems. Supplying, equipping and refitting the ship, equipping and formalizing my fighters.
It's only in the game that the Hero of the Entire Galaxy, Commander Shepard, could save his galaxy seven days a week and twenty-seven hours a day, standing pathetically in a proud pose on the CIC playground in front of a beautiful but absolutely useless map of the galaxy, which, by the way, is not on the ship. In reality, only one spaceship is a huge number of purely domestic problems. Supplies, spare parts, repair of minor damages that always haunt any ship, I'm already silent about the untried and unstable prototype, providing for the life and leisure of the crew, feeding, life support problems and a bunch of other not so obvious troubles. And all this needs to be sorted out before we fly to Terum to get Dr. T'Soni. And we can't drag it out either: it's not enough for Liara to bend over in her power hanger while we're getting ready.
Maybe Garrus can tell you something. And now the expensive relatives are useless - zero at the exit. As long as you get something you need from your native Alliance, Liara will turn into a mummy in those ruins.
"Garrus."
The Turian slowed his pace and looked at me questioningly.
"What do you need to do here? For you personally."
Transfer the cases, vacate the office and hand over the equipment.
"Do what you have to do, and we'll wait for you here." I pointed to the benches lining the walls of the reception area.
Garrus nodded in agreement and took off in an unknown direction.
Vakarian was gone for quite a long time, and eventually I dozed off. The nap turned smoothly into sleep, and I disconnected from this hospitable reality until I was woken up:
"Darling, wake up."
"What is it, Darg?"
"Your Turian is coming back."
I opened my eyes, straightened up, and couldn't help but yawn. Where is that irrepressible guy? After a quick look around the rather spacious room, I found it: Vakarian was arguing about something with a Salarian in standard C-SEC black and blue armor, holding a large box in his hands. Personal stuff, I guess. The conflict was resolved by the beautiful Asari, who briefly said something to the disgruntled Salarian, and Garrus, frowning, walked towards us.
"Are you done?" I asked when a disgruntled and angry Garrus came up to us.
"yes."
Oh, the tone in which that "yes" was said! How much anger, misunderstanding, rage and some kind of resentment sounded in the voice of the young Turian. I wonder why he was so annoyed that the usual armor of benevolence cracked so badly and allowed us to see his true state?
"Then, take us to the armory."
Garrus nodded curtly, turned around and led us... in short, he led us. The real C-SEC occupied a fairly large area: a multi-storey tower and eight tiers located below the conventional ground level, but damn, the catalyst for the construction of this tower was definitely inspired by the creations of the creators of the labyrinths. The arsenal was located on the third underground floor, but we had already gone up three times and down two times by elevator, which, judging by the time of movement, managed to go somewhere into outer space, and now we are going up again.
"Who built it?" Dylan asked, watching the numbers on the elevator board change.
We had just passed the tenth floor and continued climbing.
"The Protheans, as far as I know." Garrus shrugged his shoulders.
"What did they accept when they designed it?" Grizzly grumbled.
The Turian glanced at Derg and shrugged his shoulders in a completely human way.
"Do I know? The layout of C-SEC is a joke throughout the Citadel." Sarcasm spread from Vakarian. "Until these pranksters get lost themselves for the first time. After that, usually, the urge to scoff at this topic disappears."
"How do you navigate?"
"You get used to it in a year." He chuckled. "Before that, by map. It is uploaded to the dashboard for each employee."
The fighters were impressed, Rex didn't really care, but Tali was silent, her fingers interlocked: communication with the captain of her native ship did not go unnoticed, and the girl was very nervous. The admirals have yet to make a decision, but for now she is in our company on bird rights.
Finally, our wanderings ended: Garrus led us to a massive double door, which reluctantly let us into a spacious room with two dozen doors in the walls and a bored quartermaster sitting at a terminal on the far wall behind a high counter that could serve as a barricade if someone decided to attack the C-SEC arsenal. And he can find this arsenal in these fucking labyrinths!
The quartermaster, a tall Turian with piercing yellow eyes, looked at our extremely colorful company with interest. He recognized Garrus instantly, as well as Rex, but my fighters and I aroused natural interest, as did the nervous Quarian.
"Desar Naradi." the quartermaster introduced himself. "Commander Shepard. The armed forces of the Alliance. For the first time at the Citadel. Right?" the man asked a rhetorical question as we approached.
"Right. It's amazing that you recognized me."
The Turian smiled and spread his mandibles to the sides.
"That's my job. I need to know who came to see me." The sharp gaze shifted to the Krogan. "Rex, have you been released yet?"
"They released me." He grumbled. "Desar, will you return the shotgun?"
"You know I can't."
"Do you know each other?" Derg asked with interest.
He was answered by the crooked grin of the Krogan and the cheerful vibrating laughter of both Turians.
"Urdnot Rex is a frequent guest at C-SEC." the quartermaster explained readily. "Every time he gets caught in another fight, I get another Krogan shotgun, modified by the Warmaster."
"There was no fight this time." Rex muttered.
"A rare case. You were betrayed by your own goal." Desar grinned. "As far as I know, he was killed anyway."
Garrus looked away guiltily. The quartermaster blinked in surprise.
"Vakarian, did you shoot Fist?"
"No. Not me." the guy said it honestly, but the voice is the voice! Guilty as if he had come to confess all his sins.
"And why is the face guilty?" Desar asked skeptically.
"I was there."
"With whom?"
Garrus hesitated, not wanting to set me up. I found a problem, too!
"With me. Fist and I... didn't agree on his methods of influencing the civilian population."
"Darling, you're as good as ever." Dylan muttered with a sigh. "And we just believed that you had become kinder."
"So I'm not angry! There was a reason."
Derg waved his hand resignedly.
"You always have a reason!"
The quartermaster watched us with sincere and genuine interest. It was not often that the military of the Alliance looked into the arsenal of C-SEC, because they simply had nothing to do here. In reality, no one sells confiscated and, moreover, service weapons in the arsenal. I have no idea where it goes, but the fact remains that weapons that have entered the C-SEC arsenals do not return to the streets of the Citadel. Never.
"Garrus, do you need something?"
"I came to hand over my service weapon."
Desar blinked in surprise.
"What's going on?"
"I quit."
He was completely confused by this news.
What did you do?
"I quit." the guy repeated with a sigh.
"why?"
"I..." Garrus stopped, turned a questioning look at me, silently asking if he could speak or not.
"Garrus is joining my squad. I've already sent a request to Director Pallin."
"And he agreed?" Desar asked skeptically.
"The transfer report has already been signed."
It didn't take long for the Turian to put two and two together, and he made the right conclusion:
"Spectr?"
I nodded and showed him my ID card.
"Oh! I've heard about the appointment of a human Spectr, but I didn't know it was you. Congratulations."
Like that. A simple "congratulations." But the emotions were far from simple. For Turians, as for anyone intelligent in Citadel Space, except perhaps humans, such an appointment is a great honor that is given to the chosen and the best. And because of Nihlus' choice, I joined the elite of the galaxy... just like that, all of a sudden. Just because the Spectrum chose me.
I would like to know more for that.
"Thank you. This appointment is an honor for me."
Desar nodded understandingly.
"Vakarian, hand over your weapons and fill out the forms. You know what you have to do."
"I know, I know." Garrus took off his pistol and assault rifle from their grips and placed them on Desar's desk. "Arrange it."
"And the rifle that you confiscated five years ago and still haven't handed over?"
Garrus hesitated.
"Naradi, I won't risk taking it off myself." He admitted honestly. "And I don't recommend it to you. It can only be blown up along with the wall: I have put protective barriers in the room. The house must stand."
We exchanged glances.
"What's wrong with the rifle?" I asked cautiously.
"There's nothing wrong with the rifle." Garrus said. "In the five years that it's been hanging on the wall in my apartment, it's only been the last two years that no one has tried to mine it again, and that's because they're afraid to touch it."
Don't you understand? What does "mine" mean? In his apartment?
"I'm sorry, what?"
Instead of an answer, there was the quartermaster's cheerful laugh and Garrus' bright embarrassment. Desar answered us:
"Vakarian has a lot of enemies because of his work, he lives in a disadvantaged area in the Lower City. After the first year of service, when they realized that they couldn't just shoot him, they started mining his apartment. For the first two years, Garrus still called a bomb squad, as required by protocol, then both he and the guys got tired, and he began to mine his own housing." The yellow eyes shone with amusement. "He brings explosives once a month and puts them in a warehouse."
Darg and Dylan exchanged glances, but I didn't know what to say. Is his home being mined? Regularly? And it hasn't blown up yet? The question of his skills with explosives can be considered closed.
"And... how often does this happen?"
"Two or three times, like when." The guy answered with a shrug.
"Per month?" I asked.
"no. In a decade."
Derg shook his head, dumbfounded.
"Are you trying to tell me that your apartment is being mined every three or four days?"
"Yes." an honest answer with sincere bewilderment in his voice.
There are no words. There are simply no words!
"Why didn't you move out?"
"Who's going to buy my place?" Garrus grimaced. "And so the neighbors left after the first three explosions. I don't understand why? I've put up the shields. The explosion would have been absorbed. Well, it would shake, and that's it!"
There was such sincere resentment and bewilderment in the vibrating voice, as if he had been disappointed to the core. He really didn't understand why all the residents had run away from his house! He put up the shields! He protected his neighbors from the consequences of his work. Handsome, you can't say anything. Darg, with a slightly askew look, was trying to chew through the new information, Dylan was hastily revising his opinion about this reasonable thing, and I didn't know what to do. After such news, it was kind of hard to let him go home. What if it explodes?
"Are you mined now?" Dylan asked an interesting question to all of us.
"Yes, we've already made two passes. I came home today and noticed new stretch marks." Garrus snorted. "Desar, as soon as I take it off, I'll put everything in the warehouse. They installed new motion sensors to detect body biorhythms. Expensive."
"Disabled it?"
"No, why? I adjusted it to my own settings and added it to the exceptions."
The quartermaster shook his head.
"What if it's remotely detonated?" Derg asked.
"We've already tried it. I was turning it off."
"How?"
"I'm a good technician." Garrus shrugged his shoulders. "I am constantly following the latest news. They send me the documentation: the sappers are sharing."
"Vakarian, you are incorrigible. Look, someday you'll fly into space with your house."
The skeptical look in his blue eyes made it clear what Vakarian himself thought about this.
"It won't take off." I snapped. "Garrus, you're going to live on a ship. We're leaving soon anyway."
For a moment, he was confused, not knowing how to react to such a turn, looking at our faces in surprise. I could tell from the men's faces that Darg and Dylan agreed with me, but Rex didn't care where Vakarian lived. He was interested to see his place.
"But..."
"I need help, Garrus."
Doubt flickered in his unreal light blue eyes, but he didn't object. That's great. No, just think... Five years of living in a booby-trapped apartment... Yes, he's not just an adventurer, he's some kind of extreme!
The quartermaster understood the twists of my thoughts perfectly. He forced a smile from his expressive face and asked a sacramental question:
"Do you need something?"
"Need." I sighed. "My mentor is seriously injured and is currently unable to resolve issues with the provision of me and my landing group. I have to do it myself."
"Who is your mentor?"
"Nihlus Krayk."
The quartermaster blinked in surprise.
"I heard he died."
Garrus chuckled.
"I saw this "deceased" about two hours ago. He still speaks with difficulty, but he's not going to die. Naradi, does the Special Corps still have a department here?"
Holds. - the quartermaster typed in the access code on the terminal, and on one of the doors the indicator changed color from red to green.
"When was the last time someone looked in here?"
"Yes, six months ago, when the new weapon was delivered. The Spectr's mostly use the main arsenals."
"We'll take advantage of it." I said, handing the quartermaster my ID card.
"I beg." Desar swiped the card across the sensor, waited for the equipment to read the information, and returned the card to me. "Choose one." He waved his hand invitingly, pointing to the open door.