Аннотация: Cora's lair. Markets in the lower city. Summoning Advisor Sparatus.
After a hasty escape from the Kora's Lair, we stumbled into a small club on another petal of the Citadel. None of us knew what kind of place it was. Which was good, no one knew us or bothered us either. We looked, however, warily and cautiously, until we realized what was going on: openly carried weapons of far from civilian modifications and a short Turian sword on Nihlus' hip. But at least they didn't touch it, having sensibly reasoned that there are a lot of C-SEC posts on the Citadel, and since we haven't been swept up yet, it means that we have the right to carry these weapons. And then we completely forgot when we realized that we would not be violent.
The near-encounter with his father had thrown Garrus off balance. The guy was sitting depressed and upset, thoughtlessly staring into his glass. Nihlus was tactfully silent, but I... at first I didn't pry into his soul. I thought he'd leave on his own. But no... Garrus was slowly and surely slipping into melancholy, winding himself up for some reason.
"Garrus." I shook his shoulder, bringing him back to the real world.
He blinked in surprise, staring at me blankly with bright light blue eyes. Now, in civilian clothes, without armor and weapons, he really was perceived as an ordinary hooligan guy with a lot of problems that he masterfully hid from others behind his equanimity, slight sarcasm and harmless banter. Only now his inner armor has visibly cracked, exposing the soul of a deeply lonely intelligent man with a lot of problems and complexes. He still hasn't gotten used to the idea that he's not alone anymore. That there are those who will support him under any circumstances and no matter what.
"Something happened?" a cautious question, said in a completely unhappy voice.
"You tell me why you're not yourself."
"Ah..." he waved it away. "It's okay."
I grabbed his hand.
"This is NOT normal!"
Garrus blinked, looking into my eyes in confusion. He turned his gaze to Nihlus, but when he met a hard gaze, he drooped.
"You know we'll support you in any case." calmly pressed Nihlus. "Do you trust us with your life in battle, but not with your problems?"
"This..."
"The same thing! Trust is trust!"
Garrus looked at his brush, which I held in my hands, confused, not knowing what to do. That's how he could, having served in the C-SEC investigation department for who knows how many years, maintain such shyness and self-doubt? He just amazes me sometimes! I do not dispute that the versatility of personality is great, but you need to know the measure! Garrus on the battlefield and Garrus sitting next to me right now are two completely different personalities.
For a while, he fell out of reality again, thinking about our words and.. gathering my thoughts. We didn't say anything. Nihlus just kept quiet, and I held Garrus' hand. Finally, he was ready to talk.
"You know about... the peculiarities of our society, Rin?" dully, he began the conversation with a question.
"I know."
A short nod, and then in the same hollow voice:
"I'm the youngest in the family. I never have been... enough... disciplined. Because of this, I had problems not only with my father, but also with my immediate superiors. In training, in C-SEC. Such neglect is not welcome among our people. They don't understand him. I'm a bad Turian."
Is Garrus the bad guy? From which side? I've never seen a more loyal and honest reasonable person in my life! And his adventurism, prudent riskiness, gambling, courage on the verge of losing the instinct of self-preservation, and a thirst for adventure, coupled with shyness in some ways, only add to the charm.
Nihlus, who had a lot more fun with subordination and discipline than Garrus, just snorted. I grimaced.
"And you're generally silent, the joy of discipline, ignoring orders!"
Garrus blinked in surprise at the grinning kinsman.
"Yes, yes, our Nihlus has problems with discipline... he also often ignored the orders of his immediate superiors if he thought they were... not quite right."
"It was like that." Nihlus graciously agreed. "And then I caught Saren's eye, and he nominated me as a candidate for the SPECTR."
Garrus flinched.
"Me too... They pushed it. But my father resisted. He believed that I would eventually consider myself superior to others. Above the law." There was a hint of irony in his voice. "He often cited your mentor, Saren, as an example of the Spectr and its methods. Not too legitimate... or even illegal ones."
"Are you going to be above the law?" Nihlus looked skeptically at the embarrassed Garrus. "With your desire for justice? Your father doesn't know you at all, if that's what he thinks. The whole shadow Citadel knows that, but your father doesn't."
Garrus shrugged his shoulders.
"We often quarreled on this ground. For the last time, we... They said a lot... too much." Garrus rubbed his free hand over his face, looking at us in frustration. "Things that shouldn't have been said."
"How long ago was that?" I asked cautiously.
Garrus flinched all over, but confessed in a hollow, cracked voice.
"Three years ago."
Holy shit! Three years! He avoided his father for three years, working with him in the same structure! Now it is clear where such fear and insecurity come from, generously seasoned with pain and guilt. He'll eat himself up like that someday! Especially if the father suddenly dies.
For a very short time, I felt sympathy for the elder Vakarian. I saw the look in his eyes. He definitely wanted to catch Garrus and talk. To close the gap of misunderstanding that has opened between them. He's genuinely worried about his son. She's just scared for his life! And rightly so. There are reasons. The elder Vakarian knows perfectly well how famous Garrus has become among the local scumbags and what kind of raids are being organized on him! Yes, the whole C-SEC and the Citadel knows it! That's just it... If he looks even a little like his son, then he won't say what he wants with all his heart, but what he has to say. And all his endeavors will end in another conflict. As if not the last. And Garrus understands that perfectly well. Maybe that's why he's avoiding his father. To delay this conversation and the inevitable final breakup?
"And you haven't been in touch since?" I asked quietly, catching his eye.
"No"
And in her bright blue light eyes there is longing and pain. Garrus genuinely loves his family, but keeps his distance from them. He doesn't even risk getting close. He knows that he will not be understood, and does not even try to explain himself, so as not to spoil the relationship even more and not disappoint his loved ones. I just don't have the words! A completely lonely guy with a living and loving family! And they love him, as far as I remember, even though they don't take him seriously. Mda...
Nihlus sat brooding and overcast. Did you also appreciate the depth of Vakarian's ass? I must have appreciated it! Yes, I also felt it! He can't help but feel it, even if he wants to. He doesn't know how to shut himself off yet. Empathy is sometimes a true evil. And Garrus is shaking so much that his mind is twisted by a storm of emotions, even though his face is wearing the usual mask of equanimity and calm.
Is it any wonder that he became attached to us so quickly and firmly? We accepted him for who he is, with all his advantages and disadvantages. Without masks and pretense, without saying a single word of censure, without trying to force us to adapt to us and break our personality. Garrus is smart and observant, and it was not difficult for an excellent investigator to understand exactly how he was treated. And once he understood, he couldn't help but accept what was offered to him. Just like that, without demanding anything in return. I couldn't give up what I wanted so much. We became his family, albeit unconsciously, on an instinctive level. A reasonable person cannot be completely alone without harm to reason. Moreover, he is alone in a crowd. There should be an inner circle. It may be narrow, but it has to be! But Garrus didn't have one, and the guy was slowly stewing in his problems, gradually acquiring an outer armor of equanimity, unshakeable calmness and ironic sarcasm.
Nihlus himself has no one close to him except Saren. That's why he freaks out at the thought of a mentor. Although... What a mentor he is to the demons! I've seen quite a lot of images in Nihlus' memory. Saren may have been holding a brick in his face, but his actions speak for themselves. This is not the way to treat a student, colleague, or friend. That's how they treat their little brother!
I called up the menu and dialed the order. Garrus practically did not perceive reality, plunged back into gloomy thoughts, and Nihlus only looked at me skeptically, but did not object. We're flying to Vermaer tomorrow. And who knows how things will go. There are too many unknowns. The risk of failure is too high.
"Fuck it all!" I squeezed the hard and hot brush. "I have no one in this reality at all. Just the two of you. So... May it all burn with the flame of decay! Tomorrow we will be in space, but in the meantime we are walking."
"Do you want to please Sparatus?" Nihlus asked ironically.
"Did you see his face? He's just looking forward to morning reading and a boost of energy for the whole day ahead!"
"Then... Let's not disappoint our immediate superiors." Krayk grinned.
Our order was brought to us. The pretty Azari looked at me strangely as she set the bottles on the table. The reason only came to me when I saw the outright horror on her face when we poured alcohol and started drinking. She even came over and tried to warn:
"This is for you... You can't! It's Turian alcohol!"
I looked skeptically at the familiar bottle.
"I can. My body digests both types of foods. Thank you for your concern."
The Asari nodded uncertainly and retreated. And I took the glass Nihlus held out... She noted alcohol as not life-threatening, preventing the body from equating it to poison and instantly splitting it into safe components. Since we're walking... So we're going for a walk. I want to get drunk in good company and forget about ALL the problems at least until the morning. Even if later I will be painfully ashamed of what I will do on a drunken head.
Apparently, similar thoughts were walking in the minds of the Turians, as we set to work cheerfully. Garrus was drowning his thoughts about his family, Nihlus was drowning his thoughts about Saren, who had firmly taken the place of his long-dead brother, at the same time trying to distance himself from the storm of Garrus' emotions. Of course, nothing worked out for him, but by the end of the fifth bottle, Vakarian recovered a little and perked up. We started telling stories from life. When Saren's name was mentioned again, our brains turned on and it dawned on us that it was normal for us not to relax in front of strangers, because we would have to filter the speech. Loaded up with alcohol, we went to Nihlus.
Apparently, Nihlus made a mistake when he indicated the destination, as the taxi dropped us off at the markets of the Lower City. After looking around the area with a happy gaze, we stumbled through the entire Market for some kind of horseradish to the far taxi terminal, pushing reasonable people aside with our elbows. Naturally, we couldn't help but run into a compliment. Some big-eyed Batarian mug recognized the drunken Turian, half-hanging on Nihlus, as the familiar and reverently beloved Garrus Vakarian, and with a cry of "That's him!", Batar reached for a pistol. Garrus woke up for just a moment: silently snatching the pistol from the clip, he put a bullet between the four eyes of the noisy freak, looked around with unfocused eyes at the fucking people, and asked hoarsely:
"Krayk... Where have you taken us?"
"I made a mistake." the fake Spectrum shrugged, removing the weapon from his belt, and admitted quite casually. "And they're going to kill us here"...
"Not... They can't." Garrus critically examined the local scumbags who were gathering for free entertainment and issued a verdict. "I'm a sharpshooter. The pistol is powerful and quick-firing."
"You're drunk."
"Yes... But I'm still good at it."
"And there are many of them." the critical gaze of green eyes, which quickly acquire crystal clarity and concentration. "Someone will have an entertaining read..."
I watched all this with detached interest, rolling a grenade between my fingers and holding a pistol in my left hand.
A burly Krogan pushed his way out of the crowd. After critically examining our composition, he spat and said:
"Spectr - do not touch. Kill Vakarian."
Which Spectr should I not touch? My brain stalled on a simple task with two values and froze. Alternatively, the reasonable ones dragged the weapon, and the second part of the phrase reached me.
"Garrus... And they want to kill you."
"They always want to kill me." the guy remarked philosophically.
And then he just raised his gun and opened fire without hesitation.
I've never seen anything even close to it. The drunk, barely standing Turian fired with the cold, calculating precision of a machine and with the regularity of a metronome. The gun in his hand moved just enough for the bullet to enter the head of the next chosen victim. No matter how much his legs stumbled, his hand did not waver for a moment. The light blue eyes of a drunk who was completely out of touch with reality looked calm, cold, calculating, practically without blinking. And not a single glimmer of superfluous thought. The drunken autopilot easily and without any conflict with consciousness went into a combat trance, showing us the dark side of Garrus Vakarian, the Archangel.
We woke up from a short-term stupor at the same time. The sentients raised their weapons, shouted, and ran to the sides, trying to find cover. Someone tried to shoot the swaying shooter, but at that moment I struck, sweeping the crowd wide with a powerful mental impact, bypassing only two. Combat mentalism in all its dubious glory. Stupor, out of sync of the brain, deep fear, impaired coordination of movements. Not for long, for about ten seconds, until the body regains its work.
Nihlus was enveloped in the dark blue glow of passive biotics, yanked the blade from his hip, and with one sharp jerk broke into the compact group, knocking out an assault rifle with his hand and forcing the enemy to open his torso. The sword easily rips open the stomach, passing through the victim's powerful kinetic shield without resistance, the pistol in his left hand snaps off shots, the Turian kneels on the inertia of movement and rotation of the body, shifts the sight and double into the enemy standing slightly to the side.
Movement from the side. Turian and Batar. To the first - in the vulnerable neck, to the second - between the eyes! Batar lay down, and the Turian ducked. You twirly bastard! Shot, shot. The tour fell to the floor, drenching the metal with dark blue blood from the severed head.
Garrus's pistol clicked dryly. The thermoclip has exhausted itself. The guy blinked, falling to one knee, snapped off the clip, reached into his pocket and pulled out a new one. A man flew up to him, shouting indistinctly. Clawed fingers slid down his shin and wrapped around the long hilt. Garrus stands up quickly, shifting slightly to the side, a sharp blow, a knife rips open his throat, almost severing his neck. The body falls to the floor, Garrus removes the knife and raises the gun... Nihlus knocked him down and dragged him by the scruff of the neck behind the counter. Bullets rattled against the metal, I reloaded my pistol, leaned out from behind cover, and threw a grenade. There was an explosion, and someone screamed. His head was spinning with hatred and thirst for murder...
Who knows how our campaign would have ended if the C-SEC hadn't shown up at the shooting.
The scumbags scurried to the sides, and we, after only a moment's thought, joined the hasty escape, and managed to jump into an empty taxi aircar just a couple of moments before the soldiers in familiar black and blue armor noticed us.
Apparently, Nihlus was not mistaken this time, as the taxi dropped us off at a familiar house. The C-SEC patrol deuce watched with round eyes as, disheveled and covered in colorful blood, we fell out of the car, complained about the ruined alcohol and violent scumbags in the Lower City, put away our weapons and stomped to the nearest store. Nihlus was known here, and they didn't bother us, but with what eyes they looked after us!
On the way to the apartment, we almost broke one of the drawers, but Garrus put his knee in time, staggering a little. Having blocked the doors, we occupied the sofa and.. Here we go. The alcohol was getting stronger, and the conversation turned smoothly to memories. The stories gradually became more sincere, recalling deeply personal things that still touch my soul. A kind of confession to those who can understand. We were just pouring out our hearts, telling things that hurt our hearts. Emotions pressed on the brain, resonating. I told them about my rebirths. Some of them. Like, for example, the rebirth into a furry cross between a cat and a hamster a meter in height. The guys laughed when I complained about how I had picked up the local equivalent of fleas in the swamp and told them how I got them out of thick wool. And I laughed when Garrus told stories from army school. About the mined positions during the withdrawal, where the second squad was conditionally blown up, and the instructor sent him to the hospital with broken ribs. About the unauthorized change of position, when he practiced the role of a sniper and mowed down both attacking units, and again ended up in the hospital for creatively rethinking the order. Nihlus told how for the first time he violated the order while still in training, but the instructor was hospitalized with a broken arm and a triple leg fracture. They laughed. And then I started talking about my studies at the Academy. About the jokes of mentalists and the horrors of their work, about the consequences, about what can be made out of a reasonable being with proper imagination, and how much effort and time it will take. About mental and energy exhaustion, from which you can easily fall into a coma, from which you can no longer get out without help, and burn to the state of a withered mummy. The Turians were impressed and asked about how to help in this case. I've told you everything I know. About direct and indirect energy transfer, about mental "blinds", which sometimes cause more problems than benefits. Especially when they fall and the mind goes haywire. She explained how regeneration occurs naturally during sleep, eating or sex. She described what an energy recharge channel is and how to create it, showing it already installed and working on Nihlus..., and Nihlus himself talked about serving in the Spectr status, about the peculiarities of different types, about the traditions and customs of his people. Garrus described a couple of interesting rituals and festivals common in his home world. In general, it was... informative.
By the end of the last crate, they remembered about the shields. Garrus complained that I had already installed Nihlus, but I had forgotten about it... And Vermaer is coming soon. And it's only a five-day flight.
Which of us came up with the idea of taking up shields now, brilliant in its senility? I don't know. I do not remember. But the fact remains. The last coherent memory is of bright light blue unfocused eyes, a picture of a crippled mind with a great many self-directed bookmarks... And a stupid conversation:
"Garrus, you've got your brain in bookmarks."
"From where?" He was surprised.
"You taught it yourself, you idiot! Take pictures?"
Just a moment to think about it and a decisive response in a slurred tongue:
"Take it off!"
Then there is a jumble of fragments of work: a spreading veil on the core, a rising first shield, a sprouting Maze on the core of the personality, reliably hiding from surface scanning and forceful attack, a strengthening second and third veil, rising supports of the natural shield, thinning and crumbling strands of spontaneous bookmarks, dissolving stops on the emotional sphere and overwhelming us all with a wave of powerful contradictory, once consciously suppressed emotions and feelings...
My mind was slowly coming out of sleep and a slight hangover. The first sounds I heard and realized were the quiet beating of someone else's heart under my head and measured, even breathing with a barely audible purr on exhalation.
The sleepy gloom had worn off, and I finally opened my eyes, gradually realizing the situation. There are hot and hard plates under my cheek, the warmth of a body pressing against my back, and calm breathing in the area of my shoulder blades.
Op-pa... What a good morning...
I was lying on Garrus's chest, resting my head comfortably on the hard but smooth plates of natural armor, wrapping my left arm around his shoulder and throwing my leg over my hips. Nihlus was breathing quite heavily into my back just above my shoulder blades, wrapping a heavy, strong arm around my shoulders and pressing his whole body against mine. And he was clearly awake.
I listened to the body. Was it or wasn't it? The pleasant languor made it clear - it was! And it was good.
And the most annoying thing is that I... ALMOST DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING!
His measured breathing faltered, his heart began to pound faster, and Nihlus snorted a laugh into his shoulder blades.
"Did I say that out loud?" I asked quietly, and without intending to move.
A strong hand pulled me closer.
Oh, what emotions... Garrus woke up and realized what he had heard.
"Don't you remember anything at all?" a quiet, vibrating voice, full of apprehension and some kind of dull longing.
I carefully raised myself up, resting my hand on the sturdy plates of my natural armor. Garrus was looking at me intently, as if he was trying to find something... I was afraid that the search would be successful.
You're looking for nothing! Just because I vaguely remember the process itself, it doesn't mean that I'm against it... and from the realization of the situation, I will now be hysterical, roll my eyes and behave like a hysterical little fool. Oh, my... It's terrifying... Just think about it... I spent the night with two men, for whom I am ready to put this reality on cancer and turn it inside out! Oh, Garrus... You don't know me very well yet. Nihlus got it right away. He lies and enjoys himself, listening with some academic interest to the storm of emotions. The empath is a beginner...
Reaching out, I gently touched the hard cheekbone. Warm hard chitin, slightly rough to the touch. The blue eyes blinked in surprise. Garrus looked at me as if he'd never seen me before. His fingers slid down the convulsively twitching mandible onto the exposed golden-coffee-colored skin. Soft, velvety, slightly bumpy. And very hot. The surprise in his eyes slowly faded, and for a moment there was a flash of relief and joy.
"I remember something." I purred, looking at the expressive face with interest. The last thing that remained in my memory... the memories obediently unfolded in front of my inner vision, showing in all their glory... "How I put up shields for you... and.. filmed it... bookmarks..." I said dully, feeling my hair stand on end all over my body.
I straightened up abruptly, almost flying off the spot. Great and Indivisible! WHAT WAS I DOING?! I caught his gaze and fell into my mind. Gods forbid if I did something wrong drunk! It was there too...
I was... taken aback by the picture I saw: clearly structured defenses, raised strong shields, smooth veils, completely removed spontaneous bookmarks and suggestions... HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! Yes, there was work for about five days!
"Drinking is evil!" I said, and Nihlus chuckled softly. "But evil is funny. And, sometimes, useful. She closed her eyes, waiting out a belated panic attack. What were you thinking when you let a drunk mentalist get into your mind?" I whispered faintly, sliding limply onto the bed.
Garrus relaxed a little.
"I trust you."
He trusts me... I don't trust myself in this state! I was working with HIS brain! What if I was wrong? Just move the concepts and associations a little bit, and that's it... the mind can go to hell if a conflict begins...
"It was... Inconsiderate!"
Nihlus rolled onto his back, put his hands behind his head and looked at me with interest. And no twitching and mental tossing. A completely satisfied look.
"Nihlus, as the most non-shy, will you show me what I forgot?"
Garrus blinked in embarrassment. Nihlus grinned cheekily.
"I won't show you."
I raised an eyebrow in silent question, looking with interest at the lounging Turian. No, of course, I can sort through the memory and pull out everything with details almost every second... and I'll even do it in order to know what erased exhaustion from my short-term memory. But a little later.
"I can demonstrate it." And a sly, leering smile.
An interesting wave of emotion came from Garrus... Wow... Complete solidarity!
"Everything is clear with you." I smiled. "Are you completely satisfied with what happened?"
"Not quite. You don't remember, and you were drunk." a slight shrug of the shoulders. "As it is, yes. Quite." irony in the look. "I don't see it"...
He stopped when he heard the soft chirping of an instrumentron from his left hand. His and mine. We looked at each other in silence and simultaneously deployed the golden interface. Incoming call, subscriber...
"Advisor Sparatus!" we exhaled in one voice.
A short stupor, realization of the situation, and mats and I flew up on the bed to Garrus' loud laughter.
"It's not funny, Vakarian!" Nihlus howled, jerking the jumbled clothes to the floor.
The laughter turned into an outright hysterical neigh. Nihlus picked up my things and threw them to me, scooping up his own. The omny-tool began to squeak again, whipping up a recalcitrant horse like a rein.
"Is he taking such petty revenge on me for the late-night call?" Nihlus growled, pulling on his pants as the incoming signal beeped.
"Or maybe?" I pulled on my T-shirt and tucked it into my pants, running my fingers through my tousled hair.
"Maybe!" Nihlus straightened the collar of his tank top.
We flew out into the hall and froze in a stupor at the sight. A Horde has been walking here for a week... and not alone... and more than once...
A second to comprehend what he saw.
"The arsenal!" Nihlus gasped.
Four seconds later, we were looking at Councilor Sparatus's face, which was positively glowing with anticipation. And even though he was trying to make his usual stone face, but his eyes... Hey, what eyes he had!
"Advisor." Nihlus politely inclined his head, looking suspiciously into sparkling eyes.
The spectr of Nihlus, the spectr of Irene... I must say, you surpassed all my expectations yesterday... expectations.
Oh mo-o-other... He's already been tipped off... That's just why he's got such a happy-happy face... Or does he really get high when Pallin scribbles to him on the Spectr of the cart? I don't believe he calls his subordinates every time to fuck up. He must have taken a fancy to us...
"I was sent an EXTREMELY entertaining video about yours... resolving the conflict in the market." a hard smile. "Fifty-four bodies."
How much?! Apparently Nihlus was also impressed, because his face fell.
"I'm sorry, Counselor. It was self-defense."
"I saw." the grin became just carnivorous. "I'm waiting for you in the Council Chamber. In fifteen minutes. Three of them."
And the connection is gone.
For several long, agonizing seconds, we stared at the disabled omny-tool, digesting what was said. A strange conversation... What was he calling for? Just to tell us what's in store for the Council Chamber in fifteen minutes?
Stop!
Fifteen minutes. The Council Chamber.
Holy shit! It takes half an hour to get from here to the Council Tower by taxi! Nihlus's green eyes widened at the realization of the situation, and he swore dully. We flew out of the arsenal on the second day.
"Garrus! Get dressed!"
The guy sat up in bed, looking at our contorted faces in surprise.
"Sparatus has ordered you to the Council Chamber! Everyone!"
"And?" Vakarian did not understand the setup.
"IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!"
A moment of realization, light blue eyes open wide, and Garrus flies up from a prone position.
"I have an aircar." Nihlus gasped. "We can make it! Sparatus, you brute!"
We've never been going so fast! We swept through the wrecked apartment like a tsunami, managing to put on the missing pieces of clothing, grab a weapon, a key card, and identification cards, close our lives, and roll down to the hangar.
I will remember the flight to the Council Tower for a long time! They say a Shepard player driving a Mako is evil. I declare authoritatively that a real Nihlus running late at the helm of an aircar is much scarier! We raced at the maximum speed for this car over the very houses, dodging between slow vehicles, skidding between tall trees, not risking climbing higher, where the main transport routes of the Citadel passed. I don't know which guys were flying after us, or how the C-SEC didn't try to slow us down, but exactly ten minutes later, a black aircar almost crashed into the square in front of the Council Tower under the surprised gazes of the walking sentients.
We stormed down the long staircase and into the elevator, thanking the Reapers for the first time for this slow torture device. While he was crawling up, we managed to catch our breath, put our clothes in order, look more or less decent and calm down.
There was a closed meeting in the Council Chamber, as the Turian C-SEC informed us. We looked at each other uncomprehendingly. It's not like Sparatus to make such a setup. And then the fighter, looking at our surprised faces, must have figured something out, because after a skeptical look, he asked:
"The spectr of Nihlus Krayk, the Spectr of Irene Shepard, Garrus Vakarian?"
We nodded.
"They're waiting for you."
And he let us through.
There are no advisers in the Room... There was no one there. Don't you understand? What are they gathered for? After walking along the long platform, we froze in front of the Council, silently and questioningly looking at the three intelligences endowed with supreme authority.
And then...
the soft deep voice of Councilor Tevos solemnly said: