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Rebirth The Mass Effect is old

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    Part 1: Under the Shadow of the Soveren The author is Irina Lerkh. Rebirth is the old version. Irene 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.

  Rebirth The Mass Effect is old
  Part 1: Under the Shadow of the Soveren
  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 only wheezing and squawking came out of his throat. People in dark military uniforms ran in, and the woman was taken to the infirmary. But the checks showed nothing: the captain, who was having a seizure, was completely healthy! But the brain activity was off the charts...
  The seizure ended as suddenly as it had begun. The female body suddenly went limp, the indicators calmed down and did not differ in any way from the standard data of a soundly sleeping person. The tall man asked softly:
  "Doctor, what's wrong with her?"
  "I'm sorry, Captain... I don't know." the doctor spread her hands in confusion.
  "How is she?"
  "The indicators are stable. Captain Shepard is just sleeping."
  "Let me know when she wakes up."
  "Yes, sir."
  The man abruptly turned around and left the infirmary. The doctor sighed heavily and returned to work, carefully examining the readings taken during the captain's strange attack.
  ***
  The agony of death still dominated my senses, shaking my body with spasms and convulsions, but gradually the phantom pains subsided, allowing me to take control of my new body. There were sensations, I felt smells when I inhaled, a metallic taste on my tongue, stiffness of the couch, tingling on 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 feminine, 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 is activated first. Then there's mentalism, as soon as the eighth layer is restored. And, as an ideal, my Gift and the transformations it grants. As soon as the inner layers settle down, the memory of the recipient whose body I have occupied will begin to be absorbed.
  Was I sorry for the woman whose existence I had so abruptly ended? Not for a moment! Her 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 rebirth. 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 cleared, my psyche stabilized, and my mind cleared. 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.
  
  Consciousness turned on with a jerk. At the edge of perception, a sense of life unfolded, the beating of some powerful energy, a conversation carried by the ear, but the mind was in no hurry to comprehend someone else's speech. Her MEMORY unfolded in front of me. The memory of a woman named Irene Shepard.
  Looking through the stingy, partially incomplete memories, I didn't know whether to laugh or cry at the realization of WHAT embodied reality me was thrown into! And even at the moment of the beginning of Branching. Or, in other words, a couple of days before the start of the canon.
  I couldn't help but giggle. I never thought that one day I would be reborn in the embodied reality of the Mass Effect! I usually get thrown into worlds... not so developed, although sometimes much more perverted. Oh well, at least a touching childhood dream will come true.: I'm going to space! I will see alien races, visit other planets... The beginning euphoria was interrupted by the rustle of opening doors and the barely audible click of heels. Well, Irene, it's time to wake up and explore a new world. Fortunately, the upcoming meeting with the Protean lighthouse will allow me to write off all my oddities and extensive memory lapses to him.
  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 jumped up to me. Whatever her name is... Karin Chakvas, trauma surgeon, staff physician at Normandy.
  "Captain Shepard!" Karin's voice turned out to be very pleasant, but 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. You suddenly have cramps. There were no injuries, no abnormalities, but the body was in agony. After seven minutes, the cramps stopped, and you fell asleep for a day.
  "That's how..." I nodded slowly. The agony of death, as always, ricocheted through the body. Things happen. "Strangely, I feel quite well. Where are we?"
  The doctor understood my question quite correctly:
  "We just jumped over the repeater to Eden Prime."
  That's it! The Beginning Of Branching. Eden Prime. The first distortion is always difficult. Reality does not want to deviate from the "canon", from the matrix according to which it was embodied. I can only do one global Distortion. But what is it? Need to think.
  I stood up, interrupting the doctor's objections with a gesture, and silently left the infirmary. I need to find my immediate superiors and let them know that I am alive, healthy and ready to work. However, I didn't have to decide for a long time, as the intercom informed me that they were waiting for me in the briefing room.
  Then I'll crawl around the ship, poke my curious nose, but for now... Eden Prime is waiting for me!
  
  A tall Turian man was waiting for me in the briefing room. THE SPECTR OF Naylus Kraik. Stopping at the entrance to the gym, I leaned against the wall, staring intently at the man standing with his back to me, turning the crease inside out. The recipient's memory unleashed on me a wave of negativity and suspicion towards the SPECTR, which suddenly found itself on board with some kind of incomprehensible task. In principle, I can understand Irene: Nilus behaved with a degree of arrogance and coldness, cutting off any possibility of contact, and the hot-tempered Shepard, following the slight xenophobia and opinions of the crew, openly disliked the powerful Turian, although she observed strict neutrality. What do I know about this guy? Naylus Kraik, a student of Saren Arterius. Tough, ruthless, however, he does not reach the mentor either in cruelty or in this very ruthlessness, he treats people with cautious benevolence. He's a loner by nature, a great fighter. He nominated Irene as a candidate for Spectr. He'll die on Eden Prime, shot in the back of the head by Saren.
  Or he won't die.
  I have one global distortion of reality. Two intelligent people from my environment who can somehow influence the further development of this reality will die on this planet: Jenkins and Nilus. The first one gets a bullet from a Geth drone, the second one gets the same thing from a mentor. Only one person can survive. It's easy to save Jenkins. Naylus is almost impossible, but their influence on events directly depends on the static nature of fate. Well... I have some time to come to a final decision.
  I detached myself from the wall and sauntered over to the Turian, greeting him with a nod of my head. It's time to start preparing this reality for Change!
  "Captain Shepard," the Turian's voice was surprisingly low and deep, with a slight metallic tinge and a barely audible rumble, as if a huge cat were speaking. "We'll have a chance to talk."
  I tilted my head to the side, peering with interest at the man slowly pacing in front of me. The Turian is a tall, powerfully built humanoid. Her figure is powerful, but surprisingly slender. A similar illusion was created by a thin waist and long legs, and the peculiarity of a cat's step: without full support on the foot. The appearance did not cause hostility. A beautiful race. Predatory. Dangerous. The light grace of a wild beast, the smooth, honed movements of a fighter, economical gestures, the gaze of bright green eyes, looking somewhat wary. A face with a hard chitinous integument, but moderately expressive, however, facial expressions can be determined solely by the eyes of mobile mandibles. The harmony of the face falls under the definition of "beautiful" and therefore the Turian does not fall into the category of "freak".
  "We can talk. - I easily agree, smiling a little.
  There is wariness and distrust in the green eyes. Yes, Naylus is far from being stupid, the crew's attitude to himself was perfectly understood and felt. You can even sympathize. The negativity was felt even by my neutered empathic sense.
  "Don't mind?" The mandible twitched slightly.
  Reality wavered. A minor digression. The beginning of the stratification of the chain of events. The first sign of a Change in the rejection of the Branch of reflected reality from the main tree of embodied reality. Continue... The history of embodied reality does not like digressions... she will try to return events to the programmed course. Let's see what I can change.
  "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 so friendly the last time we talked, Captain."
  I shrugged my shoulders.
  "The status obliges. Who better to know this than you?"
  The man nodded.
  The conversation turned aside. Nilus on Eden Prime... He didn't even mention it. That's wonderful. To listen to pretentious nonsense, which the SPECTRUM itself does not believe in...why?
  "What brings you aboard the Normandy, SPECTRE?" I smiled at the way the Turian flinched. "Don't tell me stories 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 a three-fingered hand in alarm.
  His attempt at justification is to apologize so much... It's touching and funny, which only causes a smile and a slight touch of emotion. It's funny when such a powerful being apologizes for such a small thing.
  "I won't count it. And yet, Naylus, what brings you to the Normandy?"
  Anderson, who entered the round room, saved the Turian from having to get out. With the man's first words, the story returned to its original tracks. I listened to Anderson 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 on Eden Prime. Nielus immediately tensed up. His mandibles were pressed tightly against his cheeks, and his eyes were alert. Waiting for my reaction?
  And what do you want to take off the planet? I asked with a slight irony in my voice, looking into Nilus green eyes a little maliciously.
  The captain answered me:
  "During the excavations at Eden Prime, scientists found some kind of lighthouse. Most likely, it's a prothean."
  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 green eyes were filled with bewilderment and confusion. I was frankly falling out of the image that he had managed to create during his time on board the ship.
  "Let's say it's a lighthouse, and let's say it's a Prothean." I looked at the confused Turian with interest. "I understand your desire to bring the device out of 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 Naylus nodded in unison.
  "Correct me if I'm wrong about anything." the SPECTR flinched from my kind smile, but did not look away. "An artifact has been found on the planet, presumably a Prothean beacon, with great potential value for all races living in Council space. Since there is no way to examine the device or ensure its safety on Eden Prime, it was decided to take it out. The Citadel, I suppose."
  Naylus nodded. Anderson blinked and said nothing.
  "I will not touch on the political side of this decision. It is multifaceted, although it can be described in one word." Seeing the interest in the green eyes, she pressed: "Rollback. Advice from people."
  Naylus was embarrassed and looked away. Of course, he understands the background of what is happening. Captain Anderson chuckled.
  "Although it is roughly said, but in fact it is true."
  "I can believe that transporting a lighthouse is reason enough for one of most respected and well-known the Council's Spectrs to spend so much personal time."
  Only a deaf person would not have heard the irony in my voice. Naylus chuckled, spreading his mandibles in a slight grin.
  "You're perceptive, Captain 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 teeth. "So what is the REAL reason for your attention, SPECTR?"
  "I want to see you in action, Shepard," the man replied, 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. Naylus noticed my maneuver and grinned.
  "Quite practical."
  "That's how?"
  "I have put forward your candidacy for the place of Spectr." the man kindly explained to me, cunningly flashing his predatory green eyes.
  I chuckled, casting an ironic glance at the captain.
  "I don't even know... should I be pleased with the honor or outraged that I was confronted with the fact?" The Turian understood me quite correctly, his green eyes glittering with hidden amusement. He enjoyed our sparring. "I think I'll choose the third one, and I'll say that I'll be happy to work with you, Naylus, regardless of the decision you make."
  Our sweet conversation, which was giving us both some fanatical pleasure, was interrupted by the excited voice of the pilot announcing 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 Soveren in the sky. Expected. Anderson stared intently at the screen. Naylus was squinting at me, more interested in my reaction than in the image on the screen. 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 slightly tilted his head at the screen. I raised an eyebrow. In response, a questioning urk. Like a cat, what a word! My serene smile colored his gaze with concern.
  Anderson sounded the alert, and I left to prepare for the landing. The recipient's memory was fully assimilated, I was more or less familiar with weapons, and therefore the preparation did not take much time. Already standing in the airlock, I approached the Turian and said softly,:
  "Naylus, may I ask for... in some way... a promise."
  SPEKTR gasped at the question and blinked in surprise. 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 the man answered just as quietly.:
  "You can."
  "Naylus. Swear to me that you will NOT turn your back on an armed reasonable. 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?"
  "Intuition." - a hard look of green eyes in response.
  "She is very tender and sensitive to those who live in war. Mine is RARELY wrong. And I smell betrayal and your stupid death."
  The Turian blinked. I liked the hard, staring look. The man thought about it. He didn't brush it off, but took it into consideration, glaring at me suspiciously. And finally, a slow response.
  Naylus swore without a trace of irony.
  "Naylus." The man tilted his head questioningly. "If you die, I'll kill you."
  A low rumbling laugh, and the SPECTR moved away to the descending ramp.
  I'm sorry, Jenkins. I'm afraid you won't survive the first Geth drone attack. Naylus's life is more important to me than yours.
  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. The tall building was filled with heavy smoke from the 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... organically 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 may cost me my life. I'm not Shepard. I am outside the rules of this world. I will die, and another hero will come in my place and lead this universe along the beaten path.
  "Let's go."
  The fighters followed me, looking warily around, only Alenko muttered softly: "Damn!", plunging into a murky greenish slush.
  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 swallowed.
  "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!"
  The guy looked down and shut up, and I slowly walked 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 and cautiously stepped out onto the road, peering intently at the bushes and trees.
  The drones appeared unexpectedly, emerging from behind a large rock. A short burst of blue pulses, and Jenkins collapsed onto the road with a muffled wheeze, Alenko stood up with a jerk, clinging to the stone.
  The sniper rifle jerked in my hands, and the drone crashed 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. The shots penetrated the flimsy shield instantly, ripping through the light armor.
  A confused Alenko stopped nearby.
  "Jenkins..."
  "Is dead. Inattention leads to such results." bending down, she closed the wide-open eyes of the dead man. "Be careful. After completing the mission, his body will be taken to the ship."
  Alenko nodded curtly, frowning at me. What did you expect, I'll be hysterical and upset? So it would be worth learning the psychological profile of your commander! Irene was anything but a compassionate idiot. Jenkins, somewhere in the depths of my callous soul, was still a pity. A self-confident, enthusiastic young guy. I remember him bragging to Dr. Chakwas. Unfortunately, such people are the first to die. Stepping over the body, I moved forward, moving from stone to stone. These drones are not the only ones here.
  The connection clicked softly and Naylus's muffled voice reported:
  "Shepard, there are several burnt-out buildings and a lo-ot of corpses." a purring voice stretched out this "a lot", giving me an estimate of the scale of the disaster. "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, Naylus. I don't want to find your body. Jenkins is enough for me."
  "Died?"
  "Yes. Try not to add to the number of our losses."
  The connection is gone. Alenko looked at me strangely, but, thank all the gods of this world, he did not comment in any way.
  "Be careful! These drones are clearly not the only ones here!"
  The man shuddered, tightened his grip on the rifle and slowly walked forward. I stood 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!
  Shots rang out ahead. Kayden jumped up and grabbed his weapon.
  "Take your time. Finish the dressing. I'll check it out."
  The fighter nodded and went back to work, and I climbed up a small hill and peered through the scope, peering into a rather vast little 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 whistle of drones 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 geths, but there was a body on the spike, and more than one, fortunately, it was still fresh, and you didn't have to wait for huskies from here for another couple of hours.
  While I was chatting with Ashley, Kayden stamped with a guilty face, and I confronted the fighter with the fact that this lady was coming with us. The guy didn't mind. A little further behind the piles of boulders and rock fragments, the excavation site and the Geth scurrying through it were beautifully illuminated by numerous searchlights. At this distance, even the powerful optics of the rifle made it impossible to examine the synthetics in more detail, but, reasonably thinking that I could easily examine their corpses in all the details, I squeezed the trigger. The Geth, hiding behind a rock, tumbled from the impact of a heavy bullet and sank to the ground. The creatures got nervous, scattering into hiding, and I shot them steadily and methodically, preventing them from leaning out and approaching the range of fire, fortunately, the Geth did not carry sniper weapons.
  Funny, they really have a light bulb on their head! And it's so convenient to aim at it! 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.
  The man cringed guiltily.
  "Check it out. They could have hidden." Ashley and Alenko 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, I saw only 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. Apparently it has already been rescheduled."
  "Who! Ours or the Geth?"
  "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?" I asked, folding the cooled weapons.
  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," Nayllus voice sounded strained. "There is a small spaceport here. I'll check it out. I'll be waiting there."
  I didn't answer, but searched the neighborhood. An Avenger rifle was found in one of the drawers. A slightly more powerful model than my Lancer. After critically examining the weapon, I threw the service stuff into the rattled drawer and hung the Avenger on my back. Alenko blinked, and Ashley just chuckled, but said nothing, only approval flashed in her gray eyes.
  I didn't find anything else 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 visible from the outside, 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.
  He kicked over the Geth corpse, and I shook my head.
  "These are synthetics, Kayden. They act from the point of view of logic. It makes some kind of sense. Rational. We just don't know him."
  Geth stared up at the bloody skies with his eyepiece extinguished. A massive humanoid creature with an elongated metal head, light black armor covering the sternum, shoulders, partially legs, three-fingered hands resembling Turian ones. Geth's flesh was dark, almost black, as if twisted from tourniquets and pseudo-muscles, faintly glowing with bluish lights, which 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."
  The fighters nodded.
  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 a flyer area, 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 in the silence. Kayden flinched and spun around.
  "Fuck! 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.
  I confess, I was shamefully confused! This creature looked like a dead zombie raised by a half-educated necromancer! 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 creepy!
  "That's the answer."
  "He's still alive!"
  "Kayden! Turn on your brain and open your eyes! Where did you see a Human there?!" I couldn't resist cursing. "Look at what they look like! SHOOT!"
  The short-lived battle with the Huskies 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, Kayden. It's useless to shoot until the transformation is over."
  The man lowered his head, nodded briefly. Ashley wasted no time searching the remaining houses.
  "Captain! The security system is enabled here!"
  The fighter waved her hand, pointing to one of the surviving modular buildings.
  Pick the lock. The woman 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.
  "Captain, there are survivors!"
  "What?" I blinked in surprise. I'd happily forgotten about that.
  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 woman 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, huskies. 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 squinted at the man sympathetically, Alenko - disgustedly. But in vain. Crazy people sometimes see a lot more... Insanity has not made them blind and deaf, nor has it reduced their mental acuity and powers of observation.
  "Tell me, have you seen a Turian here?" I asked cautiously.
  "I saw him!" The man suddenly said with fanaticism in his voice. "He's a Prophet! Leading our enemies into battle! He was here before they attacked!"
  Kayden and I exchanged glances. Either I don't understand something, or this psycho saw Saren. How interesting!
  "It's impossible! Naylus was with us aboard 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... His 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. "Naylus has black armor."
  "Apparently, he's not the only Turian on this planet." I said grimly, turning on the comm. "Naylus?"
  "Shepard?" - the answer came immediately.
  "We found the survivors in the research camp. Dr. Manuel says he saw a Turian in white armor. BEFORE the Geth attack."
  The short pause dragged on. I didn't say anything. Naylus is a smart guy. He'll understand.
  "I understood."
  The connection is gone.
  "Doctor, you'd better stay here. The area is cleared and practically safe." I took the shotgun off my belt and handed it to the woman. "Take it just in case."
  The Doctor nodded.
  "Ashley, take us to the spaceport."
  After saying goodbye to the scientists, we left the cabin. The lock turned purple, switching back to the "locked" position.
  "Shepard, do you really believe this madman?" Kayden asked quietly.
  I slowed down a bit.
  "Remember, Alenko. Madmen look at the world in a slightly different way." They may interpret familiar things and events strangely, but they almost never lie. Lying is the prerogative of logic. I believe that Manuel really saw the Turian. Ashley, where should I go?"
  "Here. It's very close here!"
  We passed only a couple of Geth and Hask along the way, and through the trees we saw the buildings of a small spaceport and the huge Reaper looming over a tiny shuttle. Alenko swore under his breath, staring at the huge ship.
  "What the hell is this?"
  "The ship, vestimo." I said ironically, looking at the Reaper wrapped in scarlet lightning.
  A single shot rang out in the distance. What? Really... Did Naylus expose himself after all? Damn it! The launching Sovereign hummed and howled, blotting out the sky with its massive bulk.
  "Faster!"
  The Sovereign folded his paws and disappeared into the bloody sky, and we ran down to the spaceport.
  "Kayden, look around the houses. Ashley, cover him."
  "Captain!"
  "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.
  On the light gray slab of the runway, Naylus lay in a pool of blue blood.
  Chapter 3: Eden Prime: The Aftermath
  "Naylus! Damn it!"
  I ran up to the Turian. The SPECTR, to my great relief, was still alive. Hoarse, gurgling breath foamed bloody bubbles at the corners of his mouth, and his chest was torn open by a shot from a powerful rifle at almost point-blank range and resembled a mess of flesh, blue blood, and fragments of black armor. But at least not in the back of the head... It would have blown half his head off right away.
  The flaps of the armor gave way, and I carefully removed the cuirass, revealing an ugly wound and a blood-soaked jumpsuit. I tore the first-aid kit from my belt and yanked the panacelin syringe out of its socket, injecting the miracle drug into his neck and a second injection into his chest between the twisted chitin plates.
  "Shepard calling Normandy!" I turned on the transmitter and yelled.
  The answer came quickly:
  "Shepard, this is Moro."
  "The Joker! I don't care HOW you do it, but in five minutes, Naylus SHOULD be in the Normandy Infirmary! Do you understand me?"
   The pilot seemed to get fucked up by my tone and the essence of the claim, as the answer, spoken in a hoarse voice, expressed all shades of deep amazement:
  "Roger that, Shepard."
  "Five minutes, Moro! And not a second longer, otherwise I will wring the neck of whoever is responsible for the delay!"
  There was a clatter of footsteps. I raised my rifle. Ashley and Alenko appeared from behind the container.
  "Explore the port and train station!"
  The fighters ran away. I hope they can handle the Geth without my help. Or what is it, really? Kayden's help is zero on the way out, just problems. It's like being with a child, literally... then he pokes his nose where it shouldn't be, that he catches a shot and stands looking at the guilty face of the shitting cat...
  -Shep-par-rd...
  The Turian's low, croaking voice was barely audible over the roar of gunfire.
  "Naylus..."
  "This... this..." The SPECTR choked on blood and coughed heavily.
  "I know. This is Saren. Now, please be quiet! Then you'll explain HOW you caught that shot."
  The fucking look of eyes clouded with pain will warm my dark soul at night for a long time! Such amazement! Such emotions!
  I didn't leave the side of the dying Turian, keeping an eye on the surroundings. Gunshots and the buzzing pops of biotics could be heard at the train station as the fighters destroyed the Geth. As far as I remember, there aren't many of them, so we should be able to handle it. Soon the gunshots died down and Ashley reported:
  "Clear!"
  "Are you okay?"
   "Yes, Captain."
  "Take up the defense on the train. I'll join you soon."
  I don't know exactly what the Joker did or what he said to Captain Anderson, but just three minutes later, the graceful silhouette of the Normandy appeared in the sky. I watched closely as Naylus was placed on a stretcher and carried away to the ship, and for a long time I will not be able to forget the gaze of those green eyes. Or rather, what I saw in those eyes. A powerful mix of guilt, disappointment, pain betrayal, and gratitude. Well, Naylus, just try to die now! I have huge plans for you! For some reason, I am sure that this SPECTR will become part of the Normandy team. The concept of "gratitude" is not an empty phrase for Naylus. As well as "revenge".
  The frigate disappeared into the sunset sky, returning to the safety of low orbit, and I ran to the fighters of the landing group. If my sclerosis doesn't let me down, bombs, a bunch of Geth, and a lighthouse are waiting for me on the other side. Well, and future nightmares, where without them.
  ***
  The train rolled steadily, the engines humming faintly, and I peered at the platform emerging from the twilight. The optics of the rifle already made it possible to see the synthetics involved in installing bombs.
  "Ashley, Kayden, the Geth on the platform. They're doing something with..." I peered at the elongated cylindrical device. "Damn it! They're mining the colony!"
  Kayden flinched.
  "Who can deactivate the An-3 bomb?" I asked a sacramental question, catching Geth in the crosshair.
  A shot, the butt pushed into the shoulder. The Geth collapsed to the floor, visibly sparking.
  "I can." Ashley replied softly.
  Shot, shot. The squeak of an overheated weapon.
  "Kayden, cover up."
  The rifle cooled down, to catch the creature in sight, a shot. The train was slowing down, automatically braking between the platforms. The Geth became animated, and bright lines of queues stretched in our direction, clearly visible at dusk. There it is, a muzzle sticking out over the box and invitingly shining a flashlight at me! A blue light touched the tip of the sight, a shot. The flashlight was gone.
  Ashley and Kayden rolled off the train platform. The first bomb was practically under their feet. The woman bent down, and the uni-tool lit up...
  "Shepard, it's three minutes on the timer!"
  "Well, move it!" The rifle poked into my shoulder. "Kayden, check the transition!"
  The man rushed up the stairs.
  "Clear! I see two more!"
  "Faster!"
  The lights on the first bomb went out, and the panel collapsed.
  "The first one is ready!" Ashley, ducking, ran after Alenko, and I noticed movement in the dense shadow of the box.
  There was a brief flash of a flashlight on his muzzle, and a rifle roared loudly under his ear. Geth fell, rolling out from behind the container.
  "I'm disabling the second one!"
  I moved to the other side of the tracks, carefully searching the long platform.
  "The second one is ready!"
  Kayden ran forward, peering behind every crate, behind every support. I moved further away, stopping at the huge spacer. Here, the platform descended by a wide staircase to a loading platform, on which, as far as I know, there should be a lighthouse.
  "The third one is ready! One minute!"
  "Check the platform to the end."
  Kayden darted into the gathering darkness, a moment of silence, and a natural scream.:
  "There's another one!"
  Ashley took off from a low start, like a runner on the finish line, throwing a shotgun on her back. The seconds melted away one by one, the soft squeak of the instrumentron, the agonizing expectation, and finally:
  "Ready!"
  "Ashley, you're doing great." I whispered faintly, exhaling slowly. My heart was pounding in my chest, and my arms were shaking.
  "And if there is more?" Alenko's uncertain voice.
  "We'll find out now."
  The minutes dragged by one after another, but, as expected, there was no explosion. There really were four of them.
  "Damn it!" Ashley's voice cracked. The woman slid to the floor next to me, clutching the shotgun with trembling hands. "I haven't felt this way for a long time!"
  "The hand of Death on your shoulder?"
  The woman shuddered, shivering.
  "Yes... The hand of Death on my shoulder. What an accurate definition..."
  We cleaned up the platform with the lighthouse quickly, but Kayden was shot in the shoulder again and slowly fell into prostration due to excessive use of biotics. There were no Huskies this time, only five Geth. Ashley winced: her right arm was hanging like a whip due to the impact of the geth pulse.
  And the Prothean lighthouse in all its dubious glory: a narrow pylon glowing with a ghostly green light, covered with dim lights.
  "Unbelievable! The current Protean technology!"
  Kayden admired the ancient device, slowly walking around it in a circle. The lighthouse's pylon stood right in the center of the site, flashing green and gold lights and humming softly.
  "How much time has passed, and it's still working."
  "I wonder what he's hiding?" - Alenko crossed the security zone and the beacon was activated.
  A powerful arc of energy passed through the pylon, throwing out a tight beam. Alenko screamed, slowly rising into the air. No matter how much the man resisted, an invisible force persistently dragged him towards the ancient device.
  "ALENKO! Curious idiot!"
  Running, I slammed into this jerk, knocking him out of the beam. The fighter collapsed to the floor, and I felt an invisible grip lift me into the air and pull me towards the lighthouse, which was slowly opening like a flower.
  The visions flashed suddenly, instantly overloading the mind with an abyss of information: coordinates, chronicles, excerpts of recordings and short videos. Blood, war, planets burning in nuclear flames, collapsing cities, armies of beetle-like monsters tearing sentient beings to pieces at various times, fleets of ships dying under the blows of black machines so familiar to me, Reapers descending on the planet. Episodes, excerpts, memories, emotions, feelings of despair, threats and hopelessness, drawings and diagrams, a strange planet... It seemed that my head would simply burst from the endless stream of data being lavishly pressed into my poor brains!
  But finally, my consciousness could not stand it, and I plunged into blessed darkness. One last coherent thought: "Alenko, you moron... I'll kill the cattle as soon as I wake up..."
  ***
  Consciousness returned painfully and slowly, pulling me out of the depths of a bloody nightmare. The information embedded in my poor brain was slowly digested and sorted out, but its volume is such that colorful bloody dreams are guaranteed for me for a month in advance. My fingers were clenching convulsively from the desire to strangle Alenko, even though I knew in my mind that I would have climbed under the lighthouse anyway. But... Damn him! You idiot! With his L2, brains would definitely boil over!
  The medical equipment beeped softly somewhere to the left, the rustle of the doctor's clothes, the tapping of fingers on the keyboard. I slowly opened my eyes. His vision cleared, revealing an agitated and anxious face.
  "Dr. Chakwas..." I croaked.
  "Shepard, you scared me again."
  I slowly propped myself up on my elbows and struggled to sit up.
  "Damn it! It feels like a galactic library has been uploaded to my brain..." I shuddered, cupping my aching temples with my fingers.
  "You have a severe information overload, Captain."
  "Yes, I've already figured it out."
  There was another beep from the left. Turning around, I saw a naked Naylus on the next bed, studded with some tubes, medical devices of unknown purpose, wires and sensors. The Turian looked like a victim of a rabid spinner, wrapped in an untidy cocoon with a pile of strange garbage.
  It's a good thing the doctor can't read my mind... I'm afraid she won't appreciate such a comparison and will be offended.
  "How is he?"
  My gaze involuntarily clung to the huge blue spot that spread across his chest, to the numerous scars, to the swollen cyanotic burn that crossed his right thigh, multiple bruises and abrasions. I didn't understand, was he beaten up? Or did he manage to fight with Saren?
  "The condition is extremely serious." The doctor sighed. "If you had not insisted on immediate hospitalization, he would not have survived."
  That's how... Well, Naylus... If you get better, I'll punch you in the face. For making me so nervous!
  "And in more detail?"
  "The shot was almost point blank. It's a miracle that the fragments didn't hit the heart: several passed almost exactly. The ribs are crushed, the lungs are excised. A little to the left and that's it..."
  "What are the chances?"
  "It's hard for me to say yet. The spectrum has stabilized, but it is still critical."
  "As I understand it, it cannot be transported?"
  "Absolutely."
  "That's great." I struggled to stand up. "Doctor, I would really appreciate it if you would keep me informed."
  The woman smiled knowingly.
  "Of course, Captain."
  "Please don't be so formal." I smiled. "I still have to visit you so many times... Call me Irene."
  "Karin. And that's the only way!"
  The doors of the infirmary opened to admit the captain of the ship.
  "Captain Anderson!"
  "Shepard." The man nodded in greeting. "How are you feeling?"
  "Brains are about to boil." I honestly admitted. "Information overload."
  "A lighthouse?" The captain's gaze grew heavier. "Did he show you something?"
  "Rather, he raped my brain." I grimaced. "Until the information is processed, it is useless. Disparate images."
  "Doctor, what is Captain Shepard's condition?"
  "Physically healthy." Karin frowned.
  "I'm glad to hear that. Shepard, I need to talk to you in private."
  The doctor smiled understandingly and left the infirmary, leaving me alone with my superiors. Anderson, hands clasped behind his back, nervously paced back and forth, occasionally squinting at the barely alive Turian.
  "Captain, I hope you're feeling well."
  Yeah... the incident really threw the man off balance, since he decided to approach the conversation in this way.
  "How to say it. Physically, it's fine. My head is a mess of bloody nightmares, Armageddon, and incomprehensible blueprints."
  "Blueprints?" Anderson froze.
  "Yes. But I can't say what it is. It will take time for the information to be fixed in memory."
  "I hope you won't forget her."
  "I have an excellent memory, Captain." I was genuinely indignant. "I don't forget anything. No matter how much you sometimes want to."
  The man sighed.
  "I won't lie to you. The situation is not the best. Naylus is in critical condition, the Lighthouse has been destroyed, and the Geth have begun an invasion. The Council wants to hear the answers."
  "I'm not going to let the Council pin the destruction of the lighthouse on me!" I said calmly, understanding the background perfectly.
  "I'm not accusing you, Captain!" Anderson shook his head. "It's about Saren. The second Turian."
  "I know. The legendary SPECTR." I chuckled. "Naylus warned me. He was choking on blood, but he was trying to speak. Don't explain the obvious to me. I know what Saren is."
  "I'm glad to hear that."
  We were silent for a while, looking at the Turian lying in a cocoon of medical equipment. The captain's gaze is gloomy. He was well aware of the problems we would have if Nilus didn't survive.
  "Captain."
  Anderson looked up from the ugly wound.
  "Tell me, have you already sent a report to the Citadel?"
  "No." - the steely eyes looked hard.
  "Do not inform us that the SPECTR is in our infirmary and is undergoing treatment. Just write that he got a fatal shot. Not a lie."
  Surprise stabbed at my nerves.
  "What's the point?"
  I grunted, got up, and walked over to the motionless body, gazing intently at the relaxed face.
  "Do you believe in intuition, Captain?" Anderson's gaze was physically boring into my back. "Saren must not find out that his former student managed to survive this shot. If Naylus is taken to the Citadel Hospital, I won't give a dead battery for his life. Let him stay with us."
  The captain was silent, considering my words. Roughly speaking, I suggested that he conceal the information. Important information.
  "There's some truth in what you're saying, Shepard. But do you understand what will happen if he dies?"
  "Nothing will happen." I turned, meeting a hard stare. "A day earlier, a day later..."
  "I understand you, Shepard." - Anderson turned around and went to the exit.
  Already at the door, the captain turned and said:
  "I'll do as you suggested."
  I nodded gratefully.
  "When you are ready, go up to the bridge and order the pilot to dock with the Citadel."
  "Thank you."
  "Don't take too long, Shepard."
  I nodded gratefully. For a moment, the shadow of a smile flashed across Anderson's stern face: the corners of his narrow lips lifted slightly. There was a soft hiss, and the door closed behind the captain.
  I have a couple of minutes until Dr. Chakwas gets back.
  My aura hasn't completed its unfolding yet: it's still a decade away, at least. But there is something that I can do in almost any state and in any world. Or outside of it. It doesn't require any special abilities or rituals, my desire is enough. Basic energy recharge. Of course, now is not the best time, and my condition is far from ideal, but... Shaking my head, I dismissed my doubts. With a wound like that, Naylus is unlikely to survive... then it will be restored... long.
  If it succeeds at all. My finger carefully slipped past the tubes and touched the bloodstain.
  Blood is the moisture of life. The quintessence of it. Blood carries the life force and energy of an intelligent being. It doesn't matter what its composition is, what its biochemistry is. It will work anyway.
  A heavy drop formed on the tip of my finger. I touched my skin, drawing a simple sign. My desire is clearly formed, and the blue blood is instantly absorbed into the skin, leaving behind a barely noticeable blue trail. And one last thing. I know it's going to make me sick until my body adjusts... I know that our biochemistry is incompatible, but... IT'S NECESSARY. A sticky blue drop falls on the tongue. The mark on my hand turns purple, and I stagger from the sudden outflow of energy, barely keeping my balance.
  The door hissed open, admitting Karin to the infirmary. I straightened up and smiled guiltily, watching out of the corner of my eye as the Turian's heartbeat steadied on the screen. That's wonderful.
  Vital energy is almost universal. No wonder it is so appreciated by those who know what it is. It doesn't matter who is the donor and who is the recipient. It doesn't matter what race, gender, or age. With such a recharge, any energy produced by a living organism is suitable. The same treatment by the imposition of hands, a mystical explanation of the lightness of the hands of doctors... all this has only one explanation: voluntary energy replenishment. And if you consciously transform vital energy so that it is best absorbed, losses will be minimal. That's exactly what I did, taking a sample of the recipient's blood. My body is plastic and adapts quickly. The inner layers of the aura have already unfolded, the middle ones partially too. I can already use some of the tricks I learned during my travels. And energy recharge is one of them. And I'll gradually adapt to other biochemistry. It's not for nothing that true metamorphs are so... Be tough. After taking one last look at my debtor, I turned around and left the infirmary. I have about five hours until I'm exhausted and have a terrible allergy.
  Chapter 4: Dr. Chakwas
  When I went up to the bridge and gave the Joker the captain's order to dock with the Citadel, a surprise awaited me: the flight would take eight hours, plus the time it would take to drag through traffic and dock at the station. In other words, the allergy, if it starts, will knock me down on board the Normandy and in no way pass by the attention of Dr. Chakwas.
  I couldn't even imagine how to justify myself to the doctor in this situation. It's funny, but in almost all of my previous incarnations, my first and most loyal ally was a doctor or a murderer.
  Sometimes it's both. Karin is a doctor and doesn't look like a murderer, but Naylus is... No, Naylus doesn't pull either, even though his hands are stained with blood. As I walked around the ship, I thought about the upcoming conversation. Karin is a smart woman. She will be able to understand a lot, especially since she has not been noticed in xenophobia. Such an ally would be very useful to me!
  The more I influence this reality, the more questionable the value of my after-knowledge will be, given that I only remember the beginning of the story well, the key, unchanging points, and the end very vaguely. Moreover, it insanity grew stronger from series to series, and if my sclerosis doesn't let me down, the Forge and Citadel solved all the problems. I know where to find the Forge blueprints. How to use the Citadel, too. The question is different. Can I turn the tide of history? I can. Fortunately, we already have experience. When? I don't know. In any case, there's no point in going after the Mountain right now. It's too early. First, it is necessary to pass the first nodal point. As always, you will have to rely on intuition and common sense to get out. And it is better to do this in the company of loyal friends and allies.
  After wandering around the ship and doing my job, I suddenly realized that I had nothing to occupy myself with, and there were still more than four hours left before entering the repeater. I quickly got tired of pretending to be a restless spirit, and I went to the infirmary to build bridges with Karin and legalize energy supplementation. I feel like I'm going to have to use it a lot, and not just in relation to Naylus.
  ***
  The doors of the infirmary opened obediently, allowing me to enter the darkened room. The Doctor looked up from her work, raising an eyebrow in surprise.
  "Something happened?"
  I walked over and stood next to the woman, meeting her worried gaze.
  "It's hard to say. Karin, do you think it makes sense to believe what I learned from the lighthouse?"
  The doctor put down the datapad.
  "Did you recognize something?"
  "Yes." I approached the only patient, frowning at the fresh bloodstains. "Voluntary energy recharge. It guarantees the survival of a seriously injured patient."
  "Guarantee?" Karin asked in a whisper. Understanding flashed in the gray eyes. "Do you want to try it?"
  "Why not? The action is elementary, and if it weren't for his biochemistry, I would have already done it."
  "What is the problem?"
  "My possible allergy." I shrugged my shoulders.
  "What is the risk?"
  That's what I like about Dr. Chakwas, it's the lack of habit of asking dumb questions. Of course, since I came here, I had time to think about this adventure and decided to carry it out.
  "A few drops of blood won't do anything to me." I waved it off. "In the worst case, I'll get a rash. The outflow of vital energy is small, and no missions are expected in the next couple of days."
  "Do you need my supervision?"
  "It wouldn't hurt. You are a military doctor with a lot of experience. I want you to be aware of my experiments." I met Karin's attentive gaze and sighed. "You understand as well as he do how much we need this SPECTR. Alive. If it is possible to minimize the risk... I'll bring him together."
  "You're so sure about this one... recharge?"
  For a moment, I was confused. To say an unequivocal and categorical "yes" is to raise doubts. At least in their ability to sensibly assess the world around them. Giving away doubts or lying is even worse.
  "Do you believe in intuition, Karin?"
  The Doctor nodded slowly.
  "It's like an epiphany. Understanding that this is IT! That's what you need right now. I chuckled. Strange words for a military Human, but I've gotten too used to trusting my gut. It has saved my life too many times."
  "Is there a risk for the patient?"
  The doctor made a decision. I guess she's just as adventurous as I am. However, what do I expect from a military doctor?
  "None."
  "Get started."
  Karin, I adore you already! The decision was made without unnecessary snot and slander. However, the suspicious gleam in his gray eyes suggested that the doctor was no stranger to questionable experiments. Just like me.
  The ritual I'm about to perform will allow me to keep in touch with the Turian even after his recovery. Sometimes such an attachment allowed them to literally pull you out of the other world and gave both sides a clear feeling whether the intelligent person connected with you was alive or not. Dipping my finger in the blue blood, I traced a complicated symbol on Naylus stomach. It's an anchor. Chaos alone knows how these signs work! But they work, and that's all I need. In an amicable way, it should be placed above the core of the body, but according to the law of meanness, this place was occupied by an ugly wound.
  The second intricate angular symbol was placed on the inside of my palm on top of the one already applied earlier and on the solar plexus, where the energy core of the body is located. The signs were instantly absorbed into the skin with a peculiar blue tattoo. The full ritual involved putting similar signs with an anchor on me, but I didn't do that. I'm a tenacious creature, regeneration has already started working, so I won't die so easily.
  The doctor watched my manipulations with interest and a degree of skepticism. Until the blood is absorbed into the skin. Both mine and the small chitinous plates on the Turian's stomach.
  "Is it working?"
  "We'll find out now." I replied softly, licking my finger, which was liberally smeared in blue blood, under the doctor's warning cry, and began to transfer energy.
  The symbol glowed slightly with a dim blue light, so similar to the radiance of biotics, and the equipment beeped perplexedly, registering changes in the patient's body.
  The doctor bent over the instruments.
  "What's up, Karin?"
  "It's amazing!" - sincere surprise and admiration in the doctor's voice. "The action is similar to a regeneration capsule! Even panacelin does not give such a strong reaction!"
  "So this stuff helped?" I asked with interest.
  "Absolutely!" Karin looked up from her instruments. "Let's check you out now, Shepard."
  Pressing the sensor to my skin just at the spot where the symbol was blue, the doctor engaged in high-tech shamanism, using laboratory equipment instead of a tambourine. At least for me, her actions were at about the same level of understanding. While Karin was busy with the tests, I sat on the bed and looked at the first victim of my intervention.
  By all the laws of this world, regardless of the possible and acceptable options, Naylus had to die. His death is a key factor in the Eden Prime incident, as is my exposure to the Lighthouse, and they are extremely reluctant to change. Reality always resists, trying to bring events back to normal, and instead of a fatal shot in the back of the head, Naylus got an equally fatal shot in the chest, even though he was trying to escape his fate. It was only my direct intervention that prevented him from bleeding out and dying on Eden Prime. His death affects the chain of events with my obtaining the status of a SPECTRUM and the search for evidence of Saren's betrayal. Until I get through this chain, any attempt I make to introduce Naylus into events that he can influence is guaranteed murder. I've seen this before, and I don't want to see a series of fatal accidents again. Therefore, the Turian will not leave the Normandy until I receive Spectr status and leave the Citadel on business. Then it will be possible to please the Council with news about the survival of this individual. The key point will be passed, and Naylus further actions will follow the same article as mine.
  "Irene, have you noticed anything unusual about yourself?"
  The doctor's voice brought me back to reality, and the question raised reasonable concerns.
  "Should I have?"
  Karin turned the datapad over in her hands, looking at me thoughtfully, as if I were an unknown animal to science.
  "The fact is that you have changes in your DNA. I do not know what they will manifest themselves in or what the reason is. It is likely that these changes are the result of the influence of the Lighthouse. There were no deviations before Eden Prime."
  Oh! Has the body really begun to adapt to the soul? I wish I could already.
  "I don't even know what to tell you." I spread my hands. "I can only come for regular checkups."
  "It's not even up for discussion."
  "I would like you to keep this information... in secret."
  The doctor's gaze became prickly.
  "Many crew members dislike outsiders. Xenophobia is illogical. I don't want to become a victim of idle gossip."
  Dr. Chakwas's gaze softened.
  "All right, Irene. But I'm waiting for you for regular checkups!"
  "Karin, I didn't even think about objecting! I perfectly understand the gravity of the situation."
  The doctor calmed down and graced me with an approving nod. When I get the status of Spectr and Normandy, this information won't really change anything, although it may cause me a lot of trouble. In the meantime, it's better not to run into unnecessary problems.
  "Doctor, what's wrong with my allergies?"
  "I do not observe a strong reaction to dextro-protein. A slight rash may appear." Karin put the datapad in her pocket. "Your body has a surprisingly neutral reaction to dextro-foods."
  "It's been since the academy." I honestly admitted. "I once drank a Turian drink by mistake. I only got a small rash on my hands, indigestion and swelling on my face."
  There really was a similar case in the commander's past. Shepard then got off with a little indigestion, swelling of the face and sitting on the toilet, but attributed it to the consequences of drinking with friends. The truth surfaced only a month later, when the brave future commander tried to order the blue mutter she liked. The bartender's eyes are one of those recipient's memories that I will cherish and view during periods of melancholy, because they warm my dark, cruel soul.
  "There's nothing unusual about that." Karin assured me. "Some people do not respond to dextro-protein at all and are able to eat dextro-food. Of course, it is practically not absorbed, but it also does not have negative consequences. Apparently, you are lucky to be among such people."
  "Not bad either." I smiled broadly.
  No, it's not even good, it's just great! In my previous incarnation, I could drink poison in glasses, but in that world, magic and the genes of magical creatures provided certain bonuses. Especially the blood of dark creatures. Did I really manage to capture at least some properties in the structure of the soul? If so, I'll be thrilled! But I'll find out for sure in about a month, when the aura fully unfolds and the soul takes root. And who knows, maybe I'll even be able to survive the Normandy explosion and not become a victim of the Lazarus Project. Suspended animation would be very useful. However, the state of suspended animation can be achieved in other ways, and I will be able to prepare for the approach of this key, unchangeable point.
  I spent the rest of the time in the infirmary before jumping to the Citadel, enjoying talking with Dr. Chakwas. Karin is an extremely intelligent and well-read woman, and listening to her stories and stories from her life, I learned a lot of new and funny things. Stories about the biochemistry and physiology of the Alliance races smoothly jumped to stories from the active doctor's military past in order to return to medicine again. The unfortunate Naylus was mercilessly used by the enthusiastic Karin as a visual aid, at least the proud SPECTR was unconscious and unaware of this obscenity.
  Finally, the signal sounded to go through the repeater. Karin stopped, blinked in surprise.
  "Irene, go to the bridge. As far as I know, you've never been to the Citadel before?"
  "No, I wasn't."
  "Look. She's impressive for the first time!"
  I smiled. And really, why not go and see this miracle of the Reapers' design genius? Karin's stern voice caught up with me at the door.:
  "Irene... I hope SPECTR Naylus doesn't find out about this!"
  I smiled.
  "Absolutely not!"
  The door hissed shut behind me, and I couldn't help but smile broadly. May the Reapers, the Harbinger, the Catalyst, and all the other evil spirits of this universe burn in Hell. As long as there are SUCH reasonable people here, I will fight for the future of this reality and do everything possible so that they do not burn out in this senseless war! After all, you can enjoy life even in such a situation, especially since I don't get into other situations, and the phrase "peaceful life" has long since lost its practical meaning for me, becoming an impossible event.
  Chapter 5: The Citadel: The Council
  Listening out of the corner of my ear to the conversation between the Joker and the Citadel dispatcher, I stared at the huge station, spreading five petals of residential modules far away. A magnificent sight! This station is an ingenious creation, it shocked the imagination, caused awe and awe... someone, but not me.
  I disliked the Citadel at first sight. A shiny, pretty wobbler, a delicious bait for gullible fools who decided to get the knowledge of the previous rulers of the galaxy for free, and the relay network was a bait hook that local civilizations swallowed so quickly and with a satisfied slurp, voluntarily embarking on the path of death. Apparently, human have safely forgotten the thesis of free cheese, and other races did not even know, having got into a development rut carefully dug for them by patient Reaper breeders. Gloomy prospects, no matter what you say... Damn it, even goblins who have problems with logical thinking are much more careful and don't touch strange free weapons! Is it really hard to think: if the past owners of this wealth were brought under genocide, but this shit remained untouched, then something is wrong? Or is it just anger and annoyance talking in me?
  Ashley and the Joker were excitedly discussing the frankly ugly "Path of Destiny", which looked more like an exaggerated shallow bucket on a four-legged stand than a warship. A pretty patrol cruiser rustled by. However, he is only beautiful compared to the ugly Azari tubs. Damn it! It feels like the ships were designed here based on the residual principle!
  Yes, in my home world, the models in the movies were even prettier! My heart feels like I'm going to get to the Council boiling and bubbling with anger.
  The mooring of the Normandy was uneventful.: the ship smoothly approached the berthing area and braked, after which the anchors worked, fixing it and sucking the ladder to the airlock. By that time, the people who had been released were already crumpling in the airlock.
  It is worth noting that running around the Citadel in full combat gear and with combat weapons is strictly prohibited, and therefore we were all dressed in standard Alliance uniforms with low-power personal kinetic barrier generators and service weapons, namely pistols. Only Citadel Security personnel were allowed to wear armor, but they were also light, and rifles and fairly powerful pistols were used as service weapons. The only exceptions were the Spectres and the personal bodyguards of the Council members-they could wear anything.
  Anderson dismissed the crew, and he took me, Ashley, and Alenko, called a taxi, and drove to the diplomat of the Alliance, Udina.
  We stumbled into the ambassador's office when the sought-after reasonable was communicating with the holograms of the Council, and the first phrase I heard was:
  "This is outrageous! The Council would have intervened if the Geth had attacked the Turian colony!"
  Udina's indignation was quite understandable to me. Who would like to be seen as something like a third world country? And the Council treated the human race like that, and I couldn't blame them for that. Now, having had the experience of living among other races and peoples, I can quite authoritatively declare that humans are the most unreliable and unpredictable race, from which it is best to expect some kind of setup. You'll be whole. And there will still be a chance for a pleasant surprise, nevertheless, there are decent specimens in our environment, however, they are not very clearly visible against the general background.
  The Turian Counselor gave Udina a pitying look and quite reasonably remarked:
  - Turians do not colonize planets bordering Terminus systems.
  The ambassador grimaced. Apparently, people were really warned about the danger of Terminus systems.
  "What about Saren? Will the Council turn a blind eye to Spectr betrayal?"
  "Citadel Security is investigating Saren's case. We will discuss the conclusion at the hearing, not earlier." The Asari replied softly, and the holograms of the advisors disappeared.
  Muttering something extremely unpleasant, Udina turned his attention to the intruders. While he and the captain were discussing business, I brazenly turned my back on them and, leaning on the railing, looked at the park with interest.
  Finally, the ambassador agreed with our captain and left the office.
  "Commander Shepard." There was a hint of displeasure in the captain's voice. "I did not expect such behavior from you."
  "Captain," with a sigh, I tore myself away from the beautiful park and shifted my attention to my immediate superiors. "I have quite serious doubts about the expediency of this meeting. I believe the Council has already made a decision. We don't have any really solid evidence of Saren's presence on Eden Prime, let alone his involvement in the attack. You don't think that the testimony of a doctor with a shattered psyche will be significant enough, do you?"
  The captain sighed.
  "I understand it myself. But it's worth a try."
  "Is worth. But I beg you, not a word about my visions! I don't want to be laughed at!"
  The captain chuckled.
  "Good."
  "By the way, how did the Council receive the information about Nilus' fate?"
  "Restrained. Except perhaps Councilor Sparatus..." The captain hesitated for a moment. "It seemed to me that he took it too personally. The Turian's rage is unmistakable."
  "That's how... Thank you, Captain."
  Anderson smiled reassuringly.
  "Go to the Council Tower. The meeting will begin soon. I advise you to take a taxi. The distances in the Citadel are quite long, and there are elevators..." The captain grimaced. "You'll have time to evaluate them."
  With these words, the captain left, leaving us in the ambassador's office.
  "Well, let's explore the local public transport?" I asked cheerfully, eliciting puzzled looks from the fighters. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
  "Commander..." Ashley stammered, not knowing what to say.
  "Ashley, you don't think I'm a commander in life, do you?" I chuckled. "Subordination must be on board the ship and on the mission. In all other cases, I am Irene."
  Ashley smiled, and Alenko stood and blinked.
  "Then... Irene, let's go get a taxi!"
  That's why I like this person, so it's for the lightness of character! I would also like to eradicate her xenophobia... Well, okay, I'll wait until my mentality wakes up. Or I'll use a good old belief.
  ***
  By the time we got to the Council Tower, I clearly realized that the creators of the game were VERY stingy about the scale of the game world, since we took about forty minutes to get to this tower by taxi and another ten minutes on foot through rather confusing passages. But finally, the building we were looking for was found, and we fell out of the elevator and stomped towards the wide front staircase. Behind which stood two Turians.
  Well, hello Garrus Vakarian. Let's see what you're like in reality.
  As I was climbing the stairs, I heard the end of an entertaining dialogue:
  "Saren is up to something, I'm sure of it!" The low rumbling voice of the young Turian broke off excitedly. "Please give me more time! Stop them!"
  His tall companion snorted contemptuously:
  "Detain the Council members? Don't make me laugh! Your investigation is over, Garrus. And don't make me remind you of it again!"
  Pallin, and it was undoubtedly him, gave the young subordinate a hard look and left, shaking his head disapprovingly. Apparently, Vakarian had already managed to get him a lot.
  Watching Naylus, I was sure that Turians were simply physically incapable of vivid outward expression of emotions, but Garrus had just shattered that misconception of mine! His whole figure, down to the tips of his clawed fingers, depicted disappointment and confusion! Covered with chitinous plates, the pitiful muzzle, which was not supposed to be capable of live facial expressions at all, was the epitome of childish resentment and deeply wounded pride. But in those vivid, unreal blue eyes, confusion was quickly replaced by determination. Garrus shook himself like a big cat, muttered something displeased, and turned an interested gaze to our frozen composition. There was a moment of realization and recognition, and the Turian, already full of determination and enthusiasm, moved towards us.
  And I couldn't help but smile. The game's image did not even come close to conveying this storm of emotions and the energy of the young officer. I'm not me if the genius shooter doesn't turn out to be a member of my squad before leaving the Citadel! Anyway, this polite bundle of optimism and the embodiment of justice is worth a fight with Pallin.
  Garrus skidded to a stop, peering at my face with interest, barely noticeably cocking his head to the side like a bird.
  "Commander Shepard?" A slight hesitation crept into the vibrant voice. "Garrus Vakarian." a short nod, a slightly bowed head. Garrus is extremely polite. "I was the C-Sec officer in charge of the investigation of the Saren case."
  By the end of the sentence, the uncertainty had evaporated, lost in the determination and confidence of a professional.
  "Why "was"?" I asked with interest, looking at the guy.
  Garrus looked confused.
  "You heard me... Director Pallin closed the investigation."
  "But did you find something?"
  "Saren is a Spectr," Garrus grimaced, which looked very funny and could be read without the slightest difficulty on his, as it turned out, expressive face. "All his activities are classified. It's almost impossible to find something really worthwhile."
  In fact, he had just confessed his impotence, knowing it all too well. Ashley and Alenko exchanged glances. My fighters weren't idiots, and they got the subtext right.
  "Commander, the Council is waiting." Alenko reminded me quietly, and I wanted to strangle him.
  Something must have flashed in my eyes, because Garrus blinked in surprise, looking strangely at the unsuspecting Kayden.
  "Alenko... Don't try my patience. I haven't dealt with you yet for the Lighthouse."
  Alenko opened his mouth, but he met my kind, promising gaze and shut up, choking on air.
  "I'm sorry, Commander."
  Shaking my head, I walked past the blinking Turian and headed for the Council platform. Let's see what the real Cancel is. I really hope that they are at least a little smarter than the canonical image, otherwise it will be very difficult to save this reality. And I wanted to see Saren in person. Even if it's in the form of a hologram.
  ***
  A visibly nervous captain was waiting for us in front of the Council platform.
  "Commander! The hearing is already underway!"
  I didn't even blink at his reproachful look. Anderson sighed and led us to the platform. And the Citadel Council and Saren Arterius appeared to my eyes in their own holographic persona.
  Judging by Saren's pleased expression, the Udina ambassador managed to make the same mistakes as in the canon. Glancing at the councilors, I stared at Sparatus for a moment. Apparently, Anderson is right. The adviser's movements were too harsh, his voice was harsh, but his eyes were... Turians have amazingly expressive eyes! An extremely honest race! They could still hide emotions in their movements, but their eyes gave them away. And there was only pain in Sparratus' gaze. Apparently, the Councilor took Naylus death very personally.
  I listened with half an ear to the exchange between Udina and the Council, without taking my eyes off Saren. Needless to say, the legendary Spektr quickly noticed this? I was silent, not trying to get into the conversation, and looked at the powerful Turian in white armor, noticing nervous movements, excessive pathos and contemptuous self-confidence, irritation. Saren's bright blue eyes were devoid of any expression. There were no Turian emotions in them, as if someone or something had completely suppressed them, leaving only bare logic and rationality. Apparently, the Saveren had already gotten into his head, playing perfectly on his fears and thirst for revenge.
  Still, Anderson couldn't resist blurting out about the visions. I grimaced. He shouldn't have done that. Saren immediately showered him with arrogance and contempt. I wasn't listening to the Turian's words. I listened to the timbre of his voice, noting the reactions and facial expressions of his scarred and disfigured face.
  "What can you say, Commander Shepard?" Sparatus' growling voice pulled me away from the fascinating staring game with a nervous Saren.
  "It depends on what exactly interests YOU." I answered calmly, meeting the adviser's hard gaze.
  "Tell me about the death of Naylus' Spectr."
  "There's nothing to tell." I shrugged, watching Saren from the corner of my eye. "Naylus went ahead to investigate. We haven't seen each other since we landed, although we've been in touch three times. During the last communication session, he said that he would go check the spaceport, where we were supposed to meet him." The Counselor listened very attentively, literally spelling out my words. "As we approached the spaceport, a SINGLE shot rang out. We found Naylus at the spaceport. He was shot from a rifle almost POINT BLANK. The wound is fatal. It's all."
  "Where is his body?"
  "When we left the Normandy, it was in the INFIRMARY." I shrugged my shoulders.
  Sparatus took a deep breath.
  "Do you have any more questions for me, Counselor?" I asked calmly.
  "Tell us about the Lighthouse."
  Well, I told him. And about the lighthouse, and about bombs, and about information overload, and about visions of disaster. You should have seen Saren face at that moment! I specifically emphasized that I had never seen such landscapes and such reasonable ones. As an example, I described the proteanin in detail. Saren expression warmed my soul, and I smiled charmingly and hopefully at the twitching Spectr. I know how such snarls get on your nerves. And I had a kind-kind look. I will not forget or forgive a point-blank shot at my potential fighter. That's how vindictive I am. Sparatus watched our exchange of glances very carefully and drew some conclusions. Funnily enough, Saren shut up and didn't ask for compliments. But his eyes were very heavy. It's not for nothing that he has such a specific reputation.
  Finally, this long muddle came to its logical end, and the Asari counselor said:
  "The Council found no connection between Saren and the Geth. Ambassador, your request to expel Saren from the Spectr's has been rejected.
  Which is to be expected.
  Saren bowed to the Council, saying arrogantly:
  "I am glad that justice has been done."
  But when he came across my leering, appraising and promising gaze, he choked, blinking in surprise. Even his mandibles, disfigured by scars and pins, were pressed tightly to his cheeks. And at that moment, I was torn between two contradictory desires: to kill for what he had done, or to save him, not letting him die by my hand or his own. Saying goodbye in a crumpled manner, Saren disappeared, having managed to catch my promising look one last time. You're not going anywhere. We will meet more than once. So let's see which of the two desires will win in the end, and what your fate will be, the legendary Spectr Saren Arterius.
  The council dispersed, and Udina stood on the platform for a long time, clutching the strong railing in impotent anger. By and large, the Council has just publicly wiped its feet on him. I went up to Captain Anderson, listening to the heated debate between Ashley and Kayden. Ashley was being venomous at the Council, Alenko was gloomily making excuses for some reason, and the captain was frowning at me.
  "Commander. I hope you know what you're doing."
  "I know. The Council's decision was predetermined." I shrugged my shoulders, looking at Udina approaching us. "We didn't have a single solid piece of evidence, and the excessive vehemence only turned against us."
  "What are your suggestions, Commander?" Udina asked sharply.
  "Before entering the platform, we met an officer of the C-Sec, Garrus Vakarian." I said calmly, seeing understanding blossom in the captain's eyes. "He has been investigating Saren's case for a long time. I think he can help us."
  "Go ahead, Commander."
  "Thank you. If you don't mind, I'll go find Officer Vakarian."
  "Do you know where to look for him?" Anderson asked in surprise.
  "I have an idea." I smiled. "The Citadel is essentially an ordinary city. And the laws on it are the same. Ashley, Alenko, rest until morning."
  "You're not going alone, are you, Shepard?" Ashley asked suspiciously.
  "Also, how will I go! And no arguments! You, Ashley, are xenophobic. No offense, but I won't take you to the lower city with me until you get over your complexes. You, Alenko, are a military man to the core, and it shows. So..." I spread my hands.
  "And you?"
  Taking off my jacket, I gave it to a stunned Alenko, tousled my carefully coiffed hair, hid the gun, tore off the patch from the sleeve of my T-shirt, quickly turning into an ordinary civilian dressed in paramilitary clothing.
  "See you later, Captain, Ambassador."
  Smiling, I easily ran down the stairs and went to the elevator. The recipient's military bearing slipped easily, exposing old habits of movement. There were three stunned stares at my back and one full of hope.
  Thank you, Captain, for believing in me so much!
  Chapter 6: Sniper from God
  Theoretically, I knew where to look for the irrepressible Turian. Really, first I should go to Cora's Lair and talk to Harkin, a former security officer who was kicked out for drinking. He'll tell me where Garrus is heading, but the feeling that I'm LATE has been boring into my brain since the Council, so I spit on the drunk and pulled over at the terminal of the nearest taxi, quickly scrolling through possible destinations.
  There were some... Tens of thousands! There are hundreds of clinics... Which one is the one I need? All I remember is that the key character is Dr. Michel. Damn it! How do I find the RIGHT clinic?!
  Okay, stop! Why am I being stupid? This is a real world, not a linear game! It turned out to be quite easy to find Vakarian's number.: The lists of C-sec employees were quite accessible to the Alliance military, and there were contact details opposite each name.
  After dialing the required number in my omny-tool, I sent a communication request with the words "Garrus, respond urgently!" Hopefully, the nimble guy would notice him and deign to respond BEFORE he got involved in an unequal battle.
  I walked in circles by the taxi and slowly sat down, torn between the desire to drop everything and drive to the nearest clinic and shoot a Fist! The omny-tool suddenly lit up: a direct incoming call symbol flashed on a small holographic panel.
  "Shepard's on the line!"
  "This is Garrus Vakarian." The Turian's voice was muffled and very quiet.
  "Where are you right now, Garrus?"
  "I'm sorry, Commander, I won't be able to meet you right now..."
  "I'm offering to help."
  "Clinic 38-12, residential area." He replied, confused.
  "Wait for it! I'm flying out immediately!"
  The connection went out, cutting off the uncertain words of refusal. What else! Jumping into a small flyer, I chose the right destination and leaned back in a fairly comfortable seat. There was a situation... Not too good.
  My weapon is a light pistol, barely capable of pushing through an average kinetic shield, no armor, no cover. From the asset - Garrus in light armor of the C-sec. As far as I remember, he had an assault rifle and a heavy pistol strapped to his back before the Council meeting. I hope he will be so kind and share a normal weapon. There is no point in calling the fighters from the Normandy, and they simply won't have time.
  The taxi parked at the clinic's door, gurgling at me to signal the end of the journey. Avina's tedious electronic voice began broadcasting about the Citadel and offering to take an excursion. Later! Everything is later!
  The clinic turned out to be a fairly large complex, larger than a full-fledged colonial hospital. This is not two game rooms, but a full-fledged hospital, living its own life: staff were scurrying past me, patients and visitors were walking, someone was chatting with friends, someone was kicking ass, someone was harassing doctors, at the counter some crumpled guy was arguing with the doctor on duty. In general, it is a normal hospital suffering from an influx of patients and a shortage of staff.
  I found out the location of Dr. Michelle's office by simply stopping a girl in a medical uniform who was running past. Pretty azari pointed out the office I needed on the clinic map right on my omny-tool, not forgetting to inform me that the doctor is currently busy. I thanked her and assured her that I wouldn't bother her and quickly went to the elevator.
  And then the canon came into force again. The door to the doctor's office was ajar, and I slipped into the waiting room without any problems. Voices were heard in the examination room: rude, masculine, full of superiority and menace:
  "Do you understand me?!"
  "I... I..." the woman's voice, trembling with fear, could only belong to Dr. Michelle.
  "When Vakarian appears, behave yourself! Keep your mouth shut, otherwise we'll come back..."
  It's time.
  Activating the pistol, I entered the examination room. In a small rectangular room stood a short, pretty red-haired woman dressed in the standard white uniform of Citadel doctors and five big men. Fist's mercenaries. The mercenaries reacted quickly to the rustle of the opening door: the mercenary who was talking to the doctor wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her to him, hiding behind her back, while the others grabbed their weapons.
  "Who are you?!"
  With a startled cry, I pressed my hand to my chest. In the second one, I was holding a pistol ready for battle, but behind my back, and the mercenaries couldn't see the weapon. To the left, by the support column, I saw Garrus. The Turian's mercenaries hadn't noticed him yet. Amazing stupidity!
  "I... I..."
  I move slightly to the side so that after the turn of the thug looking at me, the hostage does not block Garrus' firing. The Turian was watching me intently, but appreciating the maneuver, he nodded gratefully, raising his pistol.
  "Raise your hands!"
  "Yes... now!"
  Step aside. Garrus darted out from behind a pillar like a shadow, raising his pistol. The roar of the shot merged with the scream of the mercenary, who saw the weapon in my hand, and I already pulled the trigger, shooting at the blinking man, frozen against the wall. My shots were lost in the bluish haze of the shield, Garrus took down the human mercenaries with three accurate shots to the head. The shield disappeared with a pop, and my bullets finally hit their target, piercing the Salarian's chest.
  I've always been infuriated by those pop-eyes.
  The deactivated weapon whistled softly, and I tucked the pistol into my belt. The Doctor stood in mute shock in the same place and in the same position in which she had been shot by Garrus, and at her feet lay a corpse with a bullet through its head. A heavy bullet entered the idiot's forehead and tore out the half of the skull at the exit, smashing somewhere into the wall.
  "Michelle?"
  I approached the woman, cautiously peering into the terrified face.
  "Are you all right? Are you hurt?"
  The woman woke up from her stupor.
  "W-who are you?"
  "Commander Shepard, Alliance MSF." Garrus answered for me, tucking the weapon into the fastener on his back. "You've chosen a very good time."
  I smiled.
  "It was a perfect shot."
  Garrus blinked in embarrassment, twitching his mandibles.
  "Oh, yeah... Sometimes you get lucky..."
  "And that's what a born sniper tells me!" I shook my head, turning the corpse onto its back. "Four shots offhand, all right in the forehead. What kind of luck are we talking about? Compared to you, half of the fighters I know suffer from congenital strabismus and lack of eyesight." After removing the assault rifle from the fastener, I carefully examined the weapon.
  "Thank you for your help." The Turian shifted nervously.
  Oop-pa on! I could have blushed, I would have blushed. I smiled at the guy, tucking the captured Stinger into the belt of my service weapon.
  "Not at all, Garrus." I waved it away. "Michelle, what did these idiots want from you? What shouldn't you have told Officer Vakarian?"
  The doctor nervously rubbed her hands, looking hungrily at the Turian.
  "Commander..."
  "Michelle." I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, drawing the frightened woman's attention. "You don't have to worry about their master anymore. It's a Fist, isn't it?"
  Chloe nodded.
  Irene promised her that after their visit to this undoubtedly colorful person, he would not bother her anymore.
  I didn't lie. After my visit, I'm afraid there will be no one to bother. So Michelle really doesn't need to worry about the attention from this asshole anymore.
  "He didn't want me to mention the Quarian." The doctor said quietly but confidently.
  "Dr. Michel." Garrus's rumbling voice was deliciously soothing, like a purring cat. "Tell me what happened."
  Michelle sighed, hugging herself and slowly walked over to the large viewing window.
  "A few days ago, a Quarian woman came to my office. She was shot at. With polonium bullets." The doctor turned around. "She didn't say who did it. It was obvious that she was very scared. Probably on the run."
  Garrus and I exchanged glances.
  "She asked me about the Shadow Broker."
  Garrus started, but I wiggled my fingers a little, telling him to be quiet and not confuse the doctor. The guy nodded slowly.
  "She wanted to get asylum in exchange for information." Michelle didn't notice our silent negotiations, walking back and forth. "I gave her a Fist contact. He works for a Shadow Broker."
  "Not anymore." Garrus said sharply.
  Michelle blinked in surprise.
  "Has Fist betrayed the Grey Broker?" There is an abyss of amazement and disbelief in the voice. "It's stupid even for him!"
  I couldn't agree more. The influence of the Shadow Broker is enormous. And Fist would have figured it out quickly. If he hadn't crossed our path.
  "This Quarian has something." Garrus purred thoughtfully. "Something to betray the Shadow Broker for."
  "Perhaps this information will help prove the betrayal..." I met Garrus' gaze, burning with understanding and excitement. "Did the Quarian say anything about Saren's Spectr? Or about the Geth?"
  "Spoke." Michelle stopped abruptly, interrupting her nervous running in a circle. "Something about the Geth. The information she was going to sell was related to them."
  "So it's time to visit Fist." I purred, meeting the bright lith blue eyes burning with anticipation.
  And Garrus is an adventurer! As if he decided to confirm my conclusions, he gave me this miracle:
  "This is your investigation, Shepard. But I want proof as much as you do! I..." The Turian stammered, not knowing how best to offer his help.
  He was rejected too often. Grinning, I looked into those expressive lith blue eyes and just said:
  "Join us."
  I don't like it when such strong-minded beings humiliate themselves with requests. Garrus nodded gratefully.
  "Shepard."
  "Mm" I looked at the guy questioningly.
  "We're not the only ones who need a fist. The Shadow Broker hired a Krogan named Rex."
  "The liquidator?"
  In response, a short nod.
  "So we have to hurry."
  "Rex is currently at the C-sec Academy." said the Turian. "Fist filed a complaint that he had threatened him. And we detained him."
  "That means he's going to be stuck there for a while. But still, it's worth a hurry."
  The distant corpse had a butt sticking out over its shoulder, and damn if it wasn't a sniper rifle. Stepping over the body, I jerked the corpse over. Precisely! After removing the weapon, I wiped the blood and pieces of brain off it, critically examined it, and tossed it to Garrus. The guy caught it reflexively and stared at me in surprise, blinking his eyes questioningly.
  "You're a natural sniper."
  The expression on his face caused an uncontrollable attack of emotion! Childish surprise and no less childish joy from an unexpected gift, gratitude and excitement. And HOW he held that weapon in his hands! Like a treasure!
  "Shall we go?"
  A dozen grenades slipped into his pocket and disappeared into his shapeless military trousers, as if they had never been there. A moment later, three packages of panacelin fell into the same place. Garrus watched my marauder with interest, but without surprise or disgust. I pulled out the drugs from the second corpse and tossed the package to the Turian. Garrus caught it, the medicine dissolved somewhere in the bins of his armor.
  
  "Bark's Kora." It was here that Garrus dragged me in search of Fist. However, it makes sense, because this bar belonged to a not entirely reasonable person we were looking for.
  The Lair was greeted with a roar of music, conversations, shouts and cursing. The place was working as expected. The sensible ones were boozing and staring at the half-naked Azari strippers, someone was cleaning someone's face in the corner, in separate booths, cute Azari were writhing in a sensual dance on small catwalks. A high-tech but banal strip bar.
  Garrus cut through the crowd like an icebreaker. Men of different races swore and were indignant, but they did not dare to cross the path of the evil Turian in armor. There were bouncers at the doors to Fist's private quarters: a Krogan and a human.
  "Where are you going, Turian! This is private property!"
  There was an undisguised threat in the Krogan's deep, booming voice. I came up from the side, smiled affectionately and showed my hands, showing that I was unarmed and put my palm on the massive shell, tickling the delicate skin with my fingers. The Krogan was freaking out.
  "Well, why so rude?" Suddenly, a grenade clenched in my fist beeped in my hands, getting into combat mode. The Krogan was petrified. A small metal disk slid easily behind his collar. "Oh, I'm so clumsy... I'm sorry, I'm sorry... You have thirty seconds, handsome." my purring voice sounded surprisingly loud. You can start dancing a striptease. With a spark and an explosion... emotions. I've always dreamed of watching it.
  The Krogan shied away from me, quickly disappearing into a small room. I smiled no less affectionately at the second bodyguard.
  "Mmm... Handsome, are you sure you want my attention?" The disk of an assault grenade flashed between his fingers.
  "She's not normal..." The mercenary muttered.
  "I love you too." My leering grin seemed to contrast too much with my kind-kind voice...
  The indicator on the door blinked and changed to green. The doors opened and we went into a small hallway.
  Garrus was silent, looking at me strangely.
  "Is something wrong, Garrus?"
  "It was... suddenly." The guy gurgled softly.
  "But I didn't have to kill those assholes."
  There was a muffled explosion somewhere nearby. I grinned at him.
  "I hope the adorable Krogan can undress quickly. If not..." I spread my hands. "The sadness. Okay, we're joking and that's enough. Is the fist there?"
  I nodded at the door.
  "Yes." Garrus intercepted the sniper.
  "Come on, let's go. And try not to expose yourself." To the questioning look in her lith blue eyes, I said: "Rumor has it that Fist has a pair of turrets."
  Garrus blinked, but took note of the information.
  
  That asshole really had turrets! When the hatches in the floor opened, and I saw two tripods rising with the muzzle still lowered, the grenades seemed to fly out of my hands by themselves. Demolition! One turret sparked, skewed and fell, but the second one was cocked...
  A sniper rifle shot rang out nearby. The turret swayed. The second shot! A heavy bullet shattered something in the bowels of the deadly machine, it sparked, smoke billowed, and the turret shorted out completely. And a panicked voice came from the room:
  "Wait! Don't kill me! I give up!"
  That brute! I spat on the floor. Garrus growled in frustration, but he didn't lower his rifle. Under his cover, I slowly entered the room, holding a massive man in light black armor at gunpoint. Fist twitched. I fired reflexively. The blue shield film did not appear, Fist howled, crouching on his shot leg.
  "I need information." I said calmly, aiming the gun at the pussy-faced brute. "Tell me where the Quarian is, and then maybe I'll stop shooting you in the foot."
  The rifle in my hands jerked, Fist screamed.
  "What are you doing?!"
  "You're healthy. You legs are long, and I've had a hard day. Speak!"
  "She's not here!"
  "I can see that." The gentle tone was replaced by steel.
  "I do not know where she is! I'm telling the truth!"
  The rifle jerked again, shooting through his left leg.
  "You're lying." I said softly. "You have another leg. It's still intact. You have three seconds.
  Garrus came over and looked at Fist lying in the blood with an indifferent look. The long muzzle of the sniper rifle was pointing straight at the man's forehead. And now this jerk realized that the jokes were over. And he began to speak, choking on the words:
  "She's not here! She said she would only talk to the Shadow Broker! PERSONALLY!"
  "It's impossible. The Shadow Broker only works through agents." Garrus cut it off, and I was amazed at how cold and raspy his voice had become.
  Fist wrapped his arms around his injured leg, trying to stop the bleeding. I dropped the panacelin syringe in front of him. Let him be happy. He grabbed the package, tore it open, and stuck it right into the bullet hole in the armor.
  "No one meets with a Shadow Broker. Never! Even I do not know who he is! But the Quarian didn't know that. I said I would arrange a meeting.
  What a brute! I exchanged glances with Garrus. His blue eyes were dark with anger and blazed with rage.
  "Farther."
  "They'll be waiting for her there."
  "Where?"
  Fist faltered. I waited for exactly one second, after which I kicked the wounded limb heartily. The man howled.
  "The place! Where?"
  "Here! In residential sectors!" Fist croaked. "The alley behind the markets!"
  "When?"
  "Now!" Fist grinned. "If you hurry, you might make it."
  I raised the rifle.
  "I promised Michelle that you would never bother her again."
  "What... NO!"
  The rifle roared hollowly, hitting me in the shoulder with the recoil. The bullets shattered his head, instantly turning his fear-stricken face into a bloody mess.
  "Too many sentients have died because of you for you to live."
  Lowering the rifle, I turned to Garrus. The Turian looked calmly, with a degree of academic interest, looking from the dead body to me and back again.
  "Don't you approve?" I raised an eyebrow.
  The rifle in his hands folded up and went into a non-combat position.
  "It was... the best solution to the Fist problem."
  "I'm glad you understand." I smiled. "Sometimes only death can bring you to reason. Come on, Garrus, or we'll be late for the meeting between the Quarian and Saren's envoys."
  The name of the Spectr had a miraculous effect! Vakarian roused himself, nodded, and walked forward. To my lazy objections, the Turian quite rightly pointed out that he was the only one wearing armor. I didn't argue.
  As I was leaving the bar, I noticed the Krogan bouncer. A burly mercenary was treating his nerves with some kind of brown mutter at the bar, and inexcusably negligently turned his back on me. I couldn't miss such an invitation!
  His wrinkled and slightly singed face fell sharply when the Krogan, who was gawking, heard a sacramental message in his ear:
  "Handsome!" and the quiet squeak of a grenade being cocked. "You undressed so fast that I don't even know..." My fingers caressed the neck of the numb Krogan. "Is ten seconds enough for you this time?"
  The Krogan choked on his drink, and the cold disk slipped out of my fingers and down his neck. I watched with a smile as the terrified, burly Krogan frantically pulled off his combat jacket. The grenade slipped out of his sleeve and fell to the floor. Inactive.
  "A keepsake! Don't forget me, handsome!" Blowing a kiss to the stupefied bouncer, I grabbed the numb Garrus by the elbow and dragged him out of the bar.
  Chapter 7: Evidence
  "Garrus!"
  I shook the still-astral Turian by the shoulder. The ligth blue eyes blinked.
  "Don't take some of my actions so personally." the guy blinked, his eyes finally focused.
  "It was... cruelly."
  I shrugged my shoulders. It was cruel the first time. But there was plenty of time on the grenade, so he would have had time to undress. Well, the second one... maybe this case will teach him not to click his beak." I caught his apprehensive gaze and smiled. "Garrus, with your own... I don't joke with friends like that. And with colleagues too. Almost."
  There was a look... strange. I don't know what he's up to, but I hope he doesn't give up on the idea of becoming a member of my team. And by the way...
  "Lead the way. I don't focus on the Citadel at all."
  The Turian nodded and ran down the corridor. I'll follow him.
  How he found his way through these absolutely identical corridors is a mystery shrouded in darkness! Ten minutes of fast running, and now we flew into a corridor flooded with reddish light, around the corner of which we heard the rumbling voice of a Turian:
  "Did you bring it?"
  Garrus slid towards the turn, activating his sniper rifle. A moment later, I did too, comfortably settling into a squat. Peeking around the corner, we saw a rather interesting picture: a Quarian and a tall Turian, a little to the side - four, judging by the characteristic shape of the helmet - Batarians.
  "Where is the Shadow Broker?" The Quarian's soft voice sounded a little muffled because of the helmet. "Where's Fist?"
  We exchanged glances. Garrus shifted the rifle more comfortably, and I shifted the submachine gun. The fact that I was squatting at the Turian's feet didn't bother me or him at all. There were no shelters in the corridor. Even the most cluttered crate!
  "They'll be here soon." The Turian reached out and patted the tense Quarian patronizingly on the head, for which he received a slap on the wrist. "Where is the evidence?"
  "No!" The girl took a step back. "The deal is off!"
  And with the girl's next step, Garrus raised his rifle and stepped out from around the corner, crouching at gunpoint. The Batarians drew their weapons, and the Quarian staggered back against the wall.
  Our shots rang out almost simultaneously: a booming one from snipers and dry coughing ones from machine guns. The Turian in black armor collapsed to the floor, and my shots cut down one Batar. A booming shot, and the second one fell to the floor and twitched in agony. Garrus decided to change his habit and shot the idiot in the spine. He's kind! I cut off the two remaining batars in one burst.
  The girl huddled behind a support and looked at us with wide-open eyes, gushing with panic. Garrus put away his rifle, took out his pistol and went to his unfinished victim, and I crouched down next to the frightened Quarian woman and said softly:
  "I am Commander Shepard, Alliance MSF. Garrus Vakarian, officer of the C-sec." As the girl comprehended my words, the fear disappeared, and she relaxed a little.
  "Thanks!"
  "Thank Dr. Michelle." I smiled reassuringly, shifting slightly to block her view of Garrus, who was quickly interrogating the still-alive Batar. "She told me that you were in danger."
  "I..." the girl's voice trailed off as a muffled scream came from behind me. "Fist set me up! He..."
  "Don't worry about him. Fist got what he deserved." A gurgling scream was interrupted by a dry pistol shot.
  The girl shuddered.
  "Apparently, I need to thank you twice."
  Garrus came over and held out his hand, helping the girl to her feet.
  "But why did you come to the doctor?"
  "We're looking for evidence of Saren's Spectre betrayal." Garrus said.
  "In that case, I can repay you for saving my life. I have something that can help you."
  Garrus and I exchanged glances.
  "We need to get out of here. It's not safe here." A rumbling purring voice echoed my thoughts, putting them into words.
  "What about Ambassador Udina's office?" I suggested. "It's safe there. And he's DEFINITELY going to want to see it."
  The girl did not object. Garrus caught my expressive gaze, grinned and walked forward, waving his hand inviting me to follow him. A couple of minutes of winding through the same type of corridors, and here it is happiness - a taxi terminal. We called the flyer and sat down on a bench. Garrus was looking at me with some kind of incomprehensible expression on his face, trying, however, not to stare openly, Tali was nervous. And I was sprawled out on a bench, watching the future members of my crew from under half-closed eyelids. Tali is a kind and open-minded girl, rather guileless and trusting. The result of growing up in a closed environment. Garrus, on the other hand, did not suffer from excessive trust, but he still had not lost his youthful faith in justice and a miracle. It's amazing how a romantic, kind, idealistic guy who sincerely believes in justice and an Archangel, a ruthless, cold-blooded, calculating sniper, so harmoniously combined in one reasonable man.
  An automatic taxi landed silently near the terminal, gurgling a greeting. Garrus perked up, and Tali stopped weaving her six fingers into strange shapes.
  "Let's go and make the ambassador happy." I stretched luxuriously and yawned widely.
  By the time we reached the Presidium, I was already beginning to doze off. Due to information overload, fatigue rolled in much faster, the body demanded sleep and rest. Until all this trouble with the Council is over, if you can sleep, it will be on a bench in the park or in an armchair in the ambassador's office.
  "Commander Shepard, are you all right?"
  The Turian's soft purring voice, tinged with genuine concern, jerked me out of my slumber. The flyer began to slow down and descend, taxiing towards the embassies. Yawning, I rubbed my eyes and blinked.
  "It's okay, Garrus."
  "You look tired." the guy informed me incredulously, staring intently at my face.
  "Communication with the Protean lighthouse affects Eden Prime." The ligth blue eyes widened in shock. "This device seems to have loaded the entire galactic library into my head... It consists of chronicles of the war years, paintings of a high-tech Apocalypse and a bloody massacre. It's like I'm really interested in the details of how those four-eyed, arrogant snobs were killed."
  A Quarian gasped softly next to me, and for the first time I saw the Turian's jaw drop. It's a pretty sight!
  The taxi landed and raised the canopy of the cab, politely inviting us to get out and giving me the opportunity to avoid further questions. But Tali's attentive gaze and Garrus' thoughtful gaze made it clear that these two would not forget my words and would eventually demand answers.
  We walked to the ambassador's office in silence. I was in an elated and even dreamy mood, and my companions were still trying to chew on the news. I must have had a hard time chewing, because when we stumbled into Udine, Garrus and Tali were silent, staring at my back.
  In addition to the irritated Udina, Captain Anderson was in the office. The native authorities raised an eyebrow questioningly, shooting a glance of penetrating gray eyes at the fucked-up aliens, and I nodded in agreement and smiled broadly, contentedly.
  "Commander Shepard," Udina guessed quite correctly who had come to him. "You're making my life difficult." The ambassador's voice sounded irritated and angry. "A shootout in residential areas, the murder of the owner of the "Kora Den"!" The ambassador slowly turned around. "Do you have any idea..." The ambassador finally noticed our interesting company and stopped. "Who's that?"
  Tali and Garrus exchanged glances. Apparently, this was not the reception they had expected.
  "A Quarian? What are you up to, Shepard?!"
  Against the background of the evil ambassador, Anderson, who was happy with his life, looked indecently happy. The captain immediately realized that I had brought a well-known Turian and an unknown Quarian for a reason.
  "The Quarian can help us with Saren." I said sarcastically, watching Garrus's long face out of the corner of my eye, unaccustomed to such insubordination. "If you had let me insert a single word into your monologue, I would have told you about it."
  Well, just the very courtesy! Anderson seems to be starting to get a "haha", Garrus is in a stupor, Tali is puzzled.
  Udina sighed wearily.
  "I'm sorry, Commander. This Saren thing has worn me out." For a moment, I even felt sorry for him, literally! For a VERY small moment!
  "Maybe you could start over, miss..." Udina looked pointedly at Tali.
  The girl nodded graciously and introduced herself:
  "My name is Tali"Zora nar Raya."
  "Quarians don't come here very often." Udina quite reasonably remarked. "Why did you leave the Fleet?"
  "I went on a pilgrimage." The girl just said.
  No one needs to explain what it is. Almost all sentients living in Citadel space were well aware of this lovely tradition of immigrants from the Migrating Fleet and, sometimes, enjoyed using the services of Quarian youngsters.
  "Tell me what you found, Tali." I asked softly.
  The girl nodded, clasping her fingers together.
  "During my journey, I often heard reports of Geth sightings. Since our people were exiled, the Geth have never crossed the borders of the Veil." Tali paced nervously, unconsciously stroking her palm with her fingers. "I became interested and was able to follow one of the Geth patrols."
  Oh! And the girl is an adventurer!
  "I waited until one of the Geth had fallen behind his group and turned it off by removing the memory block."
  We exchanged glances. What a lady! She caught Geth and twisted his head, pulling out his brains. The beauty!
  "I thought that at the moment of Geth's death, his module burns down." Anderson pointed out quite reasonably.
  Tali lowered her nose and hesitated.
  "This is true. Most of the data was destroyed." the nose rose again. "But I was able to pull out some soundtracks."
  With these words, this little miracle rattled on its fancy omny-tool and played us a short recording in which the perfectly recognizable voice of the unforgettable Saren was broadcasting to someone:
  "We won a big victory at Eden Prime! The lighthouse has brought us one step closer to the Canal!"
  And the pathos, the pathos! Hospadi, Saren, have you always been like this, or did the harmful influence of Nazara make your brain swim?
  That's me, the Main Villain of the entire galaxy... on a short leash.
  There was a moment of silence in the office. Intelligent people of different races silently comprehended what was said. I was silent too. Everything I could do, I did. Now it's up to Udina.
  "It's Saren's voice!" The captain whispered.
  "Wait! That's not all!" Tali clicked on the virtual buttons. "He wasn't working alone. Listen up."
  Saren's hoarse, low, vibrating voice rang out again in the silence of the office:
  "We won a big victory at Eden Prime! The lighthouse has brought us one step closer to the Canal!"
  But this time, he got an answer:
  "And he brought the Reapers' return one step closer." The drawling, deep-throated female voice sounded especially sensual and deep against the background of Saren's hoarse, rough voice.
  The recording ended. The golden glow of the active instrumentron disappeared, and the device shut down.
  "I do not know whose voice it is." The ambassador's voice broke the heavy silence. "The one who talks about the Reapers."
  "It's a familiar name." Garrus growled softly.
  Tali answered the unanswered question in the air:
  "According to data from the Geth memory module, the Reapers are a highly advanced race of machines that existed about fifty thousand years ago. The Reapers completely exterminated the Prothean race, after which they disappeared. That's what the Geth think."
  "It sounds like speculation and fairy tales." Udina muttered.
  I could feel the fabric of reality tightening! A burning sense of excitement ran through my nerves, as it always does when I step in and break a frozen story, a shock dose of adrenaline hit my bloodstream, my heart began to beat, my mind cleared, becoming crystal clear and pure. Here it is - my drug, which I got hooked on five more lifetimes ago, and I don't think I'll ever cry!
  "And if I tell you. Is it true?" I asked, watching with interest as the faces stretched out.
  "Commander?"
  "Captain, do you remember that strange ship on Eden Prime? Black, looks like a squid." I asked. During the briefing with Naylus.
  The captain nodded.
  "This is the Reaper." Udina choked, Garrus exhaled in amazement, purred a little, Tali squeaked.
  "Are you sure?" Anderson braced himself like a predator about to throw.
  "Do you know what put into my head what you called a lighthouse, and its creators called an information buoy?" after waiting for a negative swing, I pressed: "The chronicle of death. The demise of the Prothean Empire. A warning. A call for revenge. I've seen such machines descend on populated planets, wreaking death and destruction. However, there were MANY of them. And now the Reaper is alone. I suspect the others are somewhere in hibernation or stasis while this one is watching. There is no concept of a "long wait" for machins."
  "Do you realize that your words are unprovable?" Udina asked.
  "Naturally, I understand." I shrugged my shoulders. "But I'm not going to prove anything to you. I can only warn you and share my knowledge.
  "Is there anything else?" Anderson asked, briefly silencing the ambassador who had opened his mouth.
  "Did you know that the Citadel wasn't built by the Protheans?" I watched with some kind of fanatical pleasure as their faces stretched out. "They found her the same way we did. You know that the repeaters and this station are the product of the sophisticated mind of the Reapers. A kind of trap for civilizations, guaranteeing their development in the right way. The Protheans understood that. They realized it too late." now the FEAR and HORROR of understanding appeared on their faces. "After finding such a miracle... we abandoned our space programs and stopped developing. We are recent, other races were thousands of years ago. Why spend money on research into interstellar flight technologies if everything is already ready? Presented on a platter. Tied with a ribbon and with the attached instruction manual. All modern civilizations are hooked on repeaters, like a drug addict on a dose! We can't do anything without them. And the Reapers won't even have to search for our colonies. Why, if there is such a convenient repeater near EACH one... Do you need to explain what awaits us and what threatens SUCH dependence?
  I looked at the captain and the ambassador with pity, feeling the confused, horrified gaze of Garrus and Tali all over my body. A little later, when they wake up from their stupor, they will be able to find excuses and calm down, convincing themselves that I was wrong. But the worm of doubt will not go anywhere and will gnaw little by little, depriving you of peace and sleep. It's cruel. No, it's monstrously ruthless. But it's true.
  "You may not believe me or convince yourself that the Reapers are just fairy tales and there is no real threat. Your right. There is no proof. But when they appear, it may already be too late."
  I spread my hands.
  "The council won't believe it." Anderson whispered hoarsely.
  "No one will believe it." I waved it off. "Reasonable are too rigid in their judgments and, even more so, in assessing a potential threat. "I guess even Saren doesn't know what he's gotten himself into.
  "Do you justify him?" The ambassador raised an eyebrow in surprise.
  But right now I can't mess up. I don't know what I'm going to do with Saren yet. But in case I need it alive for some reason, the soil needs to be harvested now. Especially since I really wasn't lying. The buoy REALLY unloaded a lot of interesting stuff, and Saren really got under control. How much remains to be seen.
  - Quite a few visions show how the Reapers take control of the sentients. Weak-willed - completely. The strong ones - gradually. It's not for me to tell you how you can subjugate by playing on weaknesses, guilt, revenge, or duty. Add mental control and that's it, the puppet is ready. And she will do all the dirty work for you on her own initiative.
  "Do you think Saren is the Reaper's puppet?" Garrus asked bluntly.
  "I suppose so. Most likely, he himself does not understand this, considering his ship to be something like an ancient artifact-a spaceship with a strange AI."
  "What gave you that idea?"
  "Saren is no fool. A ruthless killer, no doubt. He doesn't like people- completely. But he is not a fool and hardly wants to destroy his own people. Had he been promised that the Turians would not be harmed? Who knows what got him hooked by the Reaper. We won't know until we catch him."
  "Don't you believe in voluntary participation?" Anderson asked with displeasure.
  "I'm sorry, Captain, but... no."
  "Explain?"
  " Saren has ALWAYS been absolutely loyal to the Council." I looked straight into Anderson's eyes. "I took the time to find out about him. The youngest Spectr. He is cruel, completely unappreciative of life, neither his own nor someone else's, fulfilling a task at any cost. Such reasonable people cannot betray just like that. But their loyalty is possible... redirect it. To substitute concepts, to suggest that it would be better this way. And as a result, there is an actual betrayal with thoughts about the need for such an act. There have been examples of this in our history and it was achieved by banal psychology without any mentalism and direct subordination of reason."
  "It doesn't make it any easier for us."
  "Absolutely. But as practice shows, getting rid of... of course, such reasonable people will NEVER forgive deception and will take revenge with all dedication."
  "Shepard!" Udina gasped in amazement, immediately getting into my words. "You're offering it to us..."
  "This is an ideal option, Ambassador, but, unfortunately, unlikely. To what extent my speculations correspond to reality, we still have to find out. But if I'm not mistaken... I will do my best to bring back such a fighter. Saren would never forgive the Reapers for SUCH a deception." Hesitantly, she added: "As well as myself - betrayal."
  The captain didn't say anything. He just stood there and stared thoughtfully through me into the distance he alone knew. Tali was silent. Garrus was thinking hard about something. The ambassador was pacing with his hands behind his back.
  "The council won't like it." Udina's soft, thoughtful voice broke the heavy silence.
  "They might not believe it." Garrus said reasonably.
  "They shouldn't talk about the Reapers. It's too early." The captain nodded in agreement to my words. "You shouldn't try to get everything at once. We are content with a small victory. Proof of Saren's guilt in the attack on Eden Prime."
  "That's right, Commander," Anderson said, crossing his arms over his chest. "These audio files are sufficient evidence of guilt. It's not worth trying for more."
  "I'll inform the Council." Udina drew a line under our conversation.
  "What about Tali?" I asked.
  "Commander! You've seen what I'm capable of!" The girl perked up. "Let me go with you!"
  I exchanged glances with the captain, and Anderson nodded slightly.
  "But what about your Pilgrimage?"
  "The pilgrimage speaks to our desire and willingness to dedicate ourselves to the common good! How can I stay away?" Tali's voice was genuinely puzzled. "Saren and the Reapers are a threat to the entire galaxy! The pilgrimage can wait!"
  "I'll accept any help, Tali."
  "Thanks!" The Quarian's voice trembled with joy. "You won't regret it!"
  The Ambassador sighed.
   "Captain Anderson and I will prepare a message for the Council. We'll give you a couple of hours to rest. Meet me at the Tower."
  The authorities left, and after consulting with each other, we decided to wait in the Tower so that we wouldn't have to rush headlong to the Council meeting.
  The terrifyingly slow elevator lifted us to the right level, having managed to overwhelm all three of us with a disgusting mournful melody. For relaxation, we chose a long bench located slightly away from the main staircase in a nice little corner. They sat down there. However, Tali didn't have enough time for long, and the young Quarian jumped to her feet and nervously cut around the fountain, looming in front of her eyes. Garrus and I sprawled out on a bench, relaxing after a busy and exhausting day.
  Slowly, fatigue, silence, and the soothing murmur of the water took their toll, and I drifted off to sleep. As I was falling asleep, I felt my relaxed body slide smoothly to the side, and my head bumped uncomfortably into something hard. Once I was more comfortable, I switched off, plunging into the already familiar and somewhat familiar bloody nightmare showing me the demise of the Prothean Empire.
  ***
  Councilor Sparatus, hurrying to an unexpected meeting, noticed a strange company even for a multi-species Citadel: a Quarian woman nervously pacing back and forth and a young Turian man he knew well, sitting on a bench, looking at a human girl sleeping soundly on his lap and not knowing where to put his hands.
  Chapter 8: Advice: A Key Decision
  I was woken up by the sound of a digital instrument. Damn it! I slept so well, quietly, calmly, under the unobtrusive murmur of water, and here... Who needs me there? Without opening my eyes, I turned on this dirty trick by touch and said dully:
  "Shepard's on the line."
  "Commander, come to the Council meeting immediately!" Udina's voice startled me out of my sleep. "And take your friends with you!"
  "We'll be right there. We're already in the Tower." I grumbled, disconnecting the connection. "Udina is a brute... I've had such a bad dream..."
  There was a muffled gasp of air overhead. When I opened my eyes, I found that I had been sleeping safely all this time, having adapted Garrus as a pillow, and he was sitting, afraid to move once more. Poor guy... Straightening up, I yawned profusely, rubbed my eyes, frowning at the real world.
  Garrus was silent and pretended to be an organic part of the bench, Tali giggled softly.
  "Tali!"
  At my reproachful look, the girl laughed, and Garrus, if he could, by God, would have blushed or run away. As it was, he just pressed his mandibles to his cheeks and avoided making eye contact with me. No, really, it's lovely!
  "Tali, stop laughing. Come on, let's please the Council with our faces." Yawning, I smoothed my shaggy reddish hair, putting myself in relative order. The mirrored glass in the wall of the building clearly showed my sleepy face with the red imprint of the armor relief. A very distinctive print, by the way! Rubbing my cheek, I waved my hand, muttering under my breath:
  "What the fuck? If you don't like it, don't let them watch..." And a little louder: "Information overload turns me into a dormouse. Thanks for letting me sleep."
  "You said that the lighthouse uploaded a lot of information to your brain." Tali asked.
  "Yes," Tali and Garrus listened carefully. "If I close my eyes a little, I instantly switch off and have bloody nightmares. You know, watching entire civilizations being destroyed..." I shook my head. "I will do everything to prevent this from happening to us."
  Garrus and Tali exchanged glances, but said nothing. And I don't need words.
  Having dusted ourselves off and tidied ourselves up, we crawled up the wide front stairs to the Council platform. The guards checked us and let us through. The meeting was closed and there were no outsiders present. The acoustics of the hall were good, so even at the door we heard a familiar audio file broadcasting in Saren's voice and the answer of an unknown.
  "Did you want proof? That's it!"
  Udina stared intently at the three beings endowed with almost unlimited power, tensely waiting for their answer. We crawled up to Anderson, who was standing a little behind us, and all three of us, as if on cue, tried to pretend to be part of the decor. For a moment, it seemed to me that Councilor Sparatus was grinning, but I could tell exactly by the sedentary Turian physiognomy!
  "Your proof is irrefutable." Sparatus' low, rasping, rumbling voice struck me as particularly ironic. "Saren is being stripped of his Spectr status." here we all breathed a sigh of relief, which did not escape the attentive gaze of the advisers. "Everything necessary will be done to bring him to an answer."
  "I recognize the second voice on the recording." The Asari Counselor, Tevos, turned her head to her fellow Turian. "This is Matriarch Benezia."
  We exchanged glances. The matriarch is a strong opponent. Skilled, powerful, deadly. Tevos's sensual voice confirmed these concerns:
  "Matriarch Benezia is a powerful biotic and has many followers. She is a very powerful ally for Saren."
  "I'm more concerned about the Reapers." The Salarian's raspy voice jarred on his ears. "What do you know about them?"
  "Only what was recovered from the Geth's memory. The Reapers are an ancient race of machines. They destroyed the Protheans and disappeared." Captain Anderson answered the Council.
  "Commander Shepard," Sparatus turned a demanding gaze on me. "What can YOU tell us?"
  "A little bit. The Geth worship the Reapers as gods. Saren is the prophet of their return." After thinking about it, I threw a test balloon. The Geth are absolutely certain that the Reapers still exist and are drifting in stasis somewhere in the "dark space", waiting for the Call to come through the Channel open to them and begin the Harvest. Where this "dark space" is and what kind of Call is known only to Geth. Reapers are known to be intelligent starship machines. By Harvest, I believe, is meant the destruction of organic life, as was done fifty thousand years ago when the Prothean Empire was wiped out. The information from the lighthouse partially confirms this, but it does not provide any GUARANTEED evidence. Perhaps studying other Prothean ruins or artifacts will provide an answer to these questions."
  Sparatus stared intently at my crumpled face, but I still couldn't figure out what he wanted. According to history, the adviser took everything with hostility and did not believe a single word of the protagonist. But that's a game, and what's going on in the head of a real Sparatus is a mystery shrouded in darkness. The obscure hints bothered me a bit. This guy definitely understood something or found out, and now he's trying to get answers from me to the questions he needs. I wish I knew which ones! Otherwise, I feel uncomfortable under that gaze of intelligent and cruel gray-green eyes.
  "How was Saren able to contact the Reapers?"
  Did I mention that I hate pop-eyes? I'll repeat myself. I HATE Salarians and Councilor Valern in particular.
  "I haven't the faintest idea. It's enough that he has a strong ally. And he himself is able to cause a lot of problems."
  Saren is a traitor. Valern lifted his chin.
  "He has neither the rights nor the capabilities of the Spectr. The Council stripped him of these powers."
  "It's not enough!" Udina jumped up.
  "You know he's hiding somewhere in the Traverse! Send your fleet there!"
  "A fleet cannot attack a single creature." Sparatus said quite sensibly.
  "The Citadel fleet can seal off the entire region. Don't let the Geth attack our colonies!" This could lead to a war with Traverse systems."
  "We can't get involved in a galactic confrontation over a couple dozen human colonies!"
  Sparatus grimaced, but said nothing. And I was staring intently at Councilor Valern. He's really arrogant.
  "I can stop Saren." I said calmly, meeting the heavy and appraising gaze of the Turian.
  "The Commander is right." Tevos glanced at her colleague. "There is a way to stop Saren without a fleet or armies."
  "Do you think humanity is ready to bear the responsibility of the Spectres?" Sparatus asked, looking at me with some strange interest.
  Wait a minute... And where is the categorical "no"? Sparatus must be against my appointment! Either I don't understand something, or... or I don't know something.
  The Asari exchanged glances with the Salarian and looked questioningly at Sparatus. The Turian didn't think long. A short, confident nod put an end to their discussions. Three intelligent beings with the highest authority in the Citadel Space simultaneously stretched out their hands to small terminals and typed something. We watched their actions with bated breath, not daring to believe what was happening. Am I really going to get Spectr status just like that?
  Commander Shepard. Step forward!
  Tevos's deep voice caused a small tremor. I looked at Captain Anderson, who looked incredibly pleased. The man nodded. Shivering under the attentive gazes of the advisers, I walked to the very edge of the platform. Udina took a couple of steps back, standing next to the captain. Garrus and Tali stared at the scene with bated breath.
  "By the decision of the Council, you are given all the powers and privileges of a member of the Citadel's Special Tactical Intelligence Corps." The charming voice of the Asari reverberated through the vast Council Chamber.
  "Spectr"s are not trained. They are chosen." Councilor Valern crossed his arms over his chest, staring intently into my eyes. "They are battle-hardened. They are above ranks and positions."
  "Spectr's are an ideal, it is a symbol." The Asari lifted her head proudly. "The epitome of courage, determination and dedication. They are the right hand of the Council. An instrument of our will."
   "The spectr's carry a heavy burden. Sparatus rasping voice sounded especially gloomy and solemn after the gentle voice of the Asari, it reminded of clashes and battles, the screech of crumpled armor and the roar of gunfire. "They are the protectors of peace in the Galaxy. They are our first and last line of defense! The safety of the Galaxy is in their hands!"
  "You are the first human Spectr." This is a great achievement for you and for your entire race.
  My heart was pounding in my chest, and my head was empty. The greatness of the moment was not spoiled by a single sound, not a single superfluous word. The Council, as the embodiment of Citadel civilization: the mighty Turian, the astute Asari and the cunning Salarian. There were no idle spectators whispering on the balcony, there were no appreciative glances.
  Bowing my head in a respectful bow, I said softly:
  "It's an HONOR for me."
  Sparatus nodded slightly in approval, and the Asari smiled. And the Salarian bastard ruined all the solemnity of the moment:
  "We're sending you to Traverse for Saren. He is a fugitive from justice, and you are authorized to use ALL means to arrest or eliminate him."
  "We will send all available information to Ambassador Udina." the Turian added, interpreting my look quite correctly.
  "The Council meeting is closed." The deep voice of the Asari put an end and marked the end of the meeting. However... As soon as we turned around and headed for the exit, something flew at my back:
  "Spectre Shepard, hold on." The low rumbling voice sounded completely unexpected.
  "Councilor Sparatus?" I stopped and looked questioningly at the Turian.
  "Your doctor's reports say that after contacting the lighthouse, you received a huge amount of information. Is that true?"
  This... My ass! Sparatus was interested. My chuika senses that until this chitinous muzzle squeezes me dry, I will not leave this hall alive.
  "Yes, it is. Information overload is still affecting us. The data from the buoy has not yet been fully realized."
  "A buoy?" the Salarian bastard noticed a slip of the tongue.
  "This is not a lighthouse, but an information buoy. As far as I understood from the diagrams, its purpose is to store information and transfer it into the mind of any reasonable person who has crossed the coverage area. The Protheans built thousands of such devices when their demise became apparent."
  "What schemes do you have in mind?" Tevos was also interested.
  "Blueprints and diagrams pop up in my head during deep sleep. I'm not a technician, and I can't tell you what it is, but when the information is absorbed, I'll transfer everything I see to a medium. Maybe it's something useful. You should understand that I cannot guarantee that there is any real value in these visions.
  The attempt to get off topic failed. The councilors exchanged glances and stared at me like hungry cats at a piece of raw meat. Oh, my God, I suddenly felt so bad! By God, it would be better if they were the same arrogant idiots as in the game. But now I'm facing three smart, cunning, and calculating paranoid politicians who have just been shown something interesting and potentially useful.
  "What else do you see in your dreams?" Sparatus asked without a trace of humor or irony, glaring at me intently. Military chronicles. The massacre. Hefty bug-like creatures tearing sentient ones to pieces. Fleet battles with ships very similar to the one we saw on Eden Prime. Seeing the understandable question on Asari's face, I kindly informed:
  "The fleets were losing. Always."
  "What else?" Sparatus, the brute, clung like a vorloon to the victim! Okay, if that's what you want, listen up. Maybe you won't believe it and you'll leave me alone.
  "The citadel. Relays. Exactly the same as now." To my quiet horror and panic, the advisers only exchanged knowing glances, and I felt a chill. Do they really KNOW?
  "Recent excavations and research have shown that the Citadel... much older than we thought before." Azari's soft and gentle voice seemed to me like the sounds of a harbinger of Doomsday. "Was there anything in your visions that would confirm this?"
  They must have read the answer in my face. The Salarian's attempt to say something was cut short by a thin azure palm raised in an international call for silence.
  "Tell us."
  "The Protheans didn't build a Citadel or relays." I answered dully, closing my eyes. "There is a whole series of visions that are similar to the old military chronicle. There are very specific markings on the image. They show how the Citadel was opened." Looking up, I met the Asari's attentive gaze. "I saw an ABANDONED and EMPTY Citadel, in which there were only Keepers."
  I wasn't lying here: there really were such visions. Only three. But they were enough. Your words confirm some of our findings in remote, previously inaccessible areas.
  "Do you believe me?" I asked in surprise.
  "We've already dismissed your words once." Sparatus frowned. "You have provided evidence. We don't want to make the same mistake now. From this day on, you are the Spectr. We believe and trust the Spectr's. I see no reason why we should make an exception in your case." The Turian's creepy smile was unexpectedly reassuring. "You have been so persistent in seeking justice. We were impressed."
  "I will do my best to justify THAT trust." Sparatus inclined his head in satisfaction.
  "In that case, please explain one thing to us."
  "Everything in my power."
  "After carefully checking all available information, we have not found where the body of your colleague, Naylus, has gone." The Turian's gaze froze.
  The slippers have sailed to the waterfall! And what should I do?
  The brief panic had passed. Basically, the chain of events ended, and I got the title of Spectr the way I should have. It's already possible to tell the truth.
  "As far as I know, he's still in the infirmary."
  The councillors exchanged glances.
  "IN THE INFIRMARY?" Sparatus asked softly. "Why not at the morgue?"
  Sighing, I calmly said:
  "Because Naylus survived. We managed to save his life.
  Silence fell like a stone slab in the huge hall. The councilors exchanged glances, Sparatus gripped the thin railing with such force that the sturdy metal creaked.
  "Please explain."
  "We found survivors on Eden Prime. Dr. Warren and Dr. Mikael. Due to recent events, Dr. Mikael is slightly... He lost his mind. Perhaps this is enough to not take his words seriously, but I have been told more than once that madmen have not lost their hearing, nor the sharpness of their eyes and mind. They just perceive reality a little differently. The doctor said he saw a Turian in white armor." I turned on the drone and played the recording I made on a whim.
  A shrill, awe-inspiring voice filled the huge hall.:
  "I saw him! He is a Prophet! Leading our enemies into battle! He was here before they attacked!"
  The councillors exchanged glances.
  "I felt it necessary to warn Nailus, because even before landing, I had bad premonitions and a sense of loss. I used to trust my intuition."
  "Go on."
  "Already approaching the spaceport, I heard a single shot, and already on the spot we found the body of Nilus lying in a pool of blood with his chest ripped open. Have you seen the pictures?"
  Sparatus nodded.
  "The wound was fatal" I insisted on immediate hospitalization, and literally five to seven minutes later he was in the Normandy infirmary and is still there."
  "Why did you hide this information?" Tevos asked softly.
  "Saren." I replied simply. "We knew you wouldn't believe us. We knew that we had nothing with which to prove his betrayal. If you had known about Niall's condition, he would have been transferred to the Citadel Hospital. And nothing would stop Saren from finishing what he started. We were quite reasonably afraid for his life."
  Sparatus and Tevos exchanged glances.
  "Really. Such an outcome was possible."
  "I would ask you not to take Nayllus away from the ship's infirmary. Dr. Chakwas categorically forbids its transportation. The condition of the Spectr has just stabilized and is still extremely severe. We have the most modern military hospital. Dr. Chakwas is a doctor with vast experience and knows perfectly well how to treat such wounds. There are no other patients, and all the capacities and capabilities of our infirmary are focused on the treatment of Nailus."
  "Is the doctor on the ship now?"
  "The doctor has now barricaded herself in the infirmary to avoid." I grumbled.
  Sparatus suddenly chuckled.
  "Even so."
  I shrugged my shoulders.
   "I was the commander of the landing party. Even though Naylus-Specter didn't obey me, I still feel responsible for his life. As well as for the life of any reasonable person who stands next to me. Captain Anderson complied with my request."
  Sparatus' contented face aroused quite legitimate suspicions and concerns. The Asari was smiling slyly, and the Salarian was frowning.
  "We recognize your actions as legitimate and justified, Irene Shepard Spectr. Spectrum Nilus will remain on board the Normandy under your responsibility."
  "Thank you, Counselor."
  "If you find out anything else about the Reapers, Saren, or the Citadel, notify us immediately." Asari's sensual voice made me strongly associate it with the siren song. "If there is even the slightest risk of repeating the fate of the Protheans, he must be eliminated. We cannot ignore SUCH a threat!"
  I bowed my head.
  "As soon as there are real confirmations, I will notify you immediately."
  "You can be free, Spectr."
  Sparatus' voice was full of irony and satisfaction from a successful hunt. Bowing briefly, I walked stiffly out of the Council Chamber. Irene was ready to fail if she didn't hear a soft purring laugh!
  ***
  The Ambassador and Captain Anderson were waiting for me at the elevator. There was no sign of Tali or Garrus on the horizon. Approaching the satisfied men, I asked a sacramental question.:
  "And where?" I didn't want to lose only my newly acquired partners.
  "They said they would be waiting for you at the Nagira bar if you would like to join them." Anderson replied, chuckling. "Congratulations, Spectr."
  "Thank you." It's worth visiting them.
  "We have a lot to do." - Udina was boring, and for the first time I wanted to punch him in the teeth, but I restrained myself. "You will need a ship, crew, and equipment."
  "You have gained access to special equipment and weapons." the captain added. "At the C-sec Academy, contact the quartermaster."
  "I'll come in." I nodded in agreement, considering how I should lighten the Citadel's warehouses. Anderson grinned, quite correctly understanding my dreamy look.
  "We have important news for you, Shepard." Udina exchanged glances with Anderson, and the captain nodded in agreement. Captain Anderson resigned his command of the frigate Normandy. The ship is yours now."
  I blinked in surprise and looked at the captain, who looked incredibly pleased with something. Anderson nodded in agreement.
  "The Normandy is fast and quiet, and you know the crew well. The perfect ship for the Spectrum. Take care of him, Captain."
  "This is your ship, Captain!"
  Anderson chuckled.
  "Don't worry about me so much. They'll give me another ship."
  "But..."
  "You need your own ship. I appreciate your concern for me, Shepard, but it's completely unfounded."
  "Thank you, Captain."
  "Now go and get some rest, Shepard. You've done the impossible today. All information provided to us by the Council will be waiting for you at your terminal."
  Saying goodbye in a crumpled manner, I flew to the taxi terminal and chose Nagira. I didn't intend to lose sight of Garrus and Tali.
  ***
  The bar greeted me with a roar of music and light noise. Pushing my way through the crowd at the entrance, I quickly found the reasonable ones I needed. Tali and Garrus were sitting at one of the corner tables hidden in a kind of niche and were actively discussing something. Skirting the drunken Krogan, I fell wearily onto a small couch next to the Turian and spread out over the upholstered furniture with a soft moan.
  "Don't mind?"
  My half-hearted question only elicited quiet chuckles from Tali and a smile from the Turian.
  "That's good." Glancing blearily around the table, I grabbed a glass with some kind of lilac stuff and sucked in the spicy liquid in one gulp to Garrus' warning cry.
  My head felt a little lighter.
  "Shepard!"
  "The work is over! Fuck officialdom and subordination, Garrus! Call me by my first name, Irene."
  "It's a dextro drink!"
  "I have a neutral reaction to dextro." I waved it off, finishing my drink. And if I get too drunk to have allergies, Dr. Chakwas will pump me out. After taking a meticulous look at the alcohol list on a small display mounted directly on the table, I ordered us all a drink, fortunately, due to my peculiarities, we could all drink the same thing.
  "We're walking at my expense today. Still, it's not every day that they take in the SPECTR."
  "Congratulations!" The guy started up, smiling a little guiltily.
  "Thank you. I am very grateful to you. Nothing would have happened without your help."
  Tali's thin hand rested on my forearm.
  "Irene, if it hadn't been for you and Garrus, I would have died, and the information my found went to Saren."
  "My investigation is complete." Garrus was looking at me with a strange expression in his bright blue eyes. He seemed to be thinking about something. "Without you miss..." Catching my gaze, the guy corrected himself, "I'm here for your help, Irene..."
  She raised her hand, interrupting the Turian, who was painfully choosing his words.
  "Let's agree that we were doomed to failure or death alone. Together we have achieved success!"
  Garrus and Tali nodded in agreement.
  "Then... for us, or something..."
  ***
  Further drinking gradually dissolved into alcohol intoxication. And who said that you can't drink too much Turian alcohol until you lose your memory? You can! Yes, you can! And the hangover is no less severe. I felt this in all its glory when I woke up with a painful headache in the familiar Normandy infirmary under the ironic gaze of Karin's gray eyes.
  Garrus was sitting on the next bed, looking at me with a crumpled face, and Tali, cheerful and interested, was reading something on a datapad.
  "Karin... Please tell me that none of the crew saw me on the way here..." I croaked, sinking into the glass of water that the doctor had graciously handed me.
  In response, a guilty look from ligth blue eyes and a soft laugh from the doctor.
  "Calm down, Captain. Only Moro and the guys from the landing party saw you."
  I groaned, burying my forehead in my trembling palm.
  "It's a good first day as a captain... Tali, as the most sober of us, tell me, have we done anything wrong?"
  The Quarian laughed loudly.
  "Come on mam, Spectr, everything was quite decent! You just mam quietly got drunk with Officer Vakarian until you lost the ability to think straight."
  "And then?"
  I was terrified of a colorful description of the outrages, but Tali laughingly told me how the two of us, having finished pouring very expensive dextro-booze, suddenly blew up and stomped straight to the Normandy. And even smoothly. And silently. It's a good thing that my autopilot is still with me, and that Garrus has an analog of it. We were finally knocked down on the ship, and under the fucking gaze of a deeply shocked Joker and the jokes of the soldiers from the landing group, we crawled to the infirmary on our own (!) and surrendered to the mercy of the surprised Dr. Chakvas.
  I fell into a slight euphoria of relief when a hoarse, croaking voice whispered:
  "The SPECTR?"
  We all turned around together.
  "The spectr?" Garrus echoed, blinking his eyes in shock.
  Bright green eyes looked at me, full of sincere surprise and dumbfounded. Nielus finally regained consciousness.
  Chapter 9: Small matters
  "Welcome back to the world of the living, colleague!" I couldn't help but smile. Since Nylus has woken up, it means that his recovery is a matter of time and not too far away.
  "Where am I?" the Spectr asked a completely logical question and tried to get up, but immediately fell back on the bed, growling from the sharp pain.
  "In the Normandy infirmary. And, Nylus, you won't even move your fingers without our doctor's permission."
  The green eyes grew heavy.
  "And don't argue, be kind. The wound is serious: You were standing with both feet in the grave." Garrus cringed at my voice, but Nylus just grunted. "Haven't you forgotten? You still owe me an excuse for how you managed to get shot at point blank range."
  Nylus shyly averted his eyes.
  "The Council..."
  "He already knows." I cut him off. "We've found evidence of Saren's betrayal, and now he's our target. I'll tell you the details and news a little later, as I sort out the pressing matters and the Normandy departs from the Citadel. By the way, the Council left you on our ship under my responsibility.
  "What is the reason?" Specter asked, and then, grimacing, he answered himself.: "Saren's mercenaries?"
  "You know perfectly well that you would have lived in the Citadel hospital just as long as it took him to find out about such a gift from the gods."
  Nielus nodded slowly and visibly relaxed.
  "You've already met our doctor." Another nod. "Now I'll introduce you to those who helped me a LOT in my investigation. Garrus Vakarian. An officer of the SBC. He was conducting an official investigation into Saren's case. The best shooter I've ever seen. Garrus lowered his muzzle in embarrassment, but I could see that he was pleased with the praise. Tali"Zora nar Raya. It was she who brought the information, extracting it from the Geth memory module. A brilliant technician. And an extremely adventurous person. It was necessary... to hunt Geth alone. Successfully, moreover!"
  Now the Quarian lowered her muzzle, but a slight echo of emotion showed that the girl was pleased to hear when she was praised. And deservedly so.
  "Tali, Garrus. Get to know each other. The spectr of Nylus Kraik. It was he who nominated me as a candidate for the Spectr, for which I am infinitely grateful to him." Nylus smiled faintly.
  "And now we're all going to get out of here together, so as not to interfere with the doctor's work and embarrass Nilus with our presence." I grinned at him.
  It has only now dawned on the Spectr in what form it is. Nielus opened his mouth, but when he saw the expression on my insolent face, he closed it and nodded slowly. What else could he do? We have already seen everything that is necessary and unnecessary, and a small screen is not an obstacle, because it was practically removed so as not to interfere with the doctor's supervision of all his patients.
  "Get well, colleague!"
  I was about to rush out of the infirmary after Garrus and Tali when Karin's metallic voice pinned me to the floor.:
  "Are you going somewhere, Specter Shepard?"
  "But Karin!"
  "Irene! You've managed to drink Turian booze until you lose your sanity! Do you even understand what the consequences can be after taking SO much dextro-alcohol?"
  "Well, since I managed to sober up and oversleep, but there are still no consequences... So there are none?" quite reasonably, I remarked, looking ingratiatingly into the doctor's gray eyes. "Moreover, dextro-food is not as dangerous as everyone warns."
  The reproach in the doctor's eyes and the crazy look in his green eyes were my reward.
  "Dextro-alcohol?" The low rumbling voice showed the depth of amazement. "And you survived?"
  "And she didn't even get a rash." I grinned, silently thanking the gods and demons for my powerful regeneration and adaptable body.
  "Irene, people can consume dextro-foods without harm to the body. But - not everything! Alcohol is just one of the dangerous ones! He is quite capable of causing a strong reaction. Neutral products suitable for all types are marked with appropriate labels. They come in both types, but they're harmless and easy to digest.
  "But there was no allergy." I shrugged my shoulders. In my previous incarnations, I've eaten everything... Even the lower demons got their teeth into it. And nothing. I got hurt a couple of times, of course, but I survived...
  "Dismissed, Captain." The doctor graciously dismissed me. "This time. Pilot Moreau is waiting for you in the control room."
  "Oh, come on, Karin! We're not going anywhere yet! We have some left... unfinished business at this beautiful station." My predatory, anticipatory grin made Naylus choke, but his next words brought a knowing smile:
  "We were allowed into the arsenal of the Spectr.
  Bowing formally to the relaxed Turian, I asked:
  "Dear colleague. Do you need anything from the bins of these very arsenals?"
  Despite the way the question was posed and the humorous tone, Naylus realized that I had asked the question without a trace of irony and calmly answered:
  "New heavy armor. And if it's not too much trouble, Irene Spectrum, bring a full set of weapons."
  "Oh, come on... It won't bother me." I noticed, looking into the laughing green eyes. "Garrus will come with me for that."
  "It may not be missed."
  "Nothing. I'll take it out." seeing the growing skepticism in the eyes of a fellow professional and remembering the weight of a full set of armor and weapons, she recovered: "Or drag her out, which is more likely."
  Nielus laughed softly, and I stormed out of the infirmary before I got my neck slapped for making a seriously injured patient laugh. Nielus, on the other hand, grimaced at the sharp pain in his disturbed wound and continued to smile.
  The doors of the infirmary closed softly behind me. Sighing with relief, I ruffled my short hair, frowning at the funny faces of the soldiers of the landing group and into the guilty eyes of Garrus. Why does he blame himself? They seemed to drink together and on my initiative.
  "And why are we so happy?"
  The fighters laughed merrily.
  "Come on, mother do! It was necessary!" Corporal Atkins, giggling merrily, came up and slapped me on the back. Irene treated the guys from her own group well. After moving in, I quite easily transformed this relationship into a friendly one with a slight touch of subordination. Now, outside of missions, the guys are relaxed. To them, I was not Commander Shepard or Spectr, but the only woman in their company who was able to gain trust and gain some credibility.
  "Come on... Have you forgotten how terrified you were the other day, and we hid you from the watchful eyes of the captain?"
  Darg laughed even more merrily.
  "And here you stood out. You should have been so pumped up with dextro-swill! And even crawl to the ship on your own feet! Ah ha ha...! And even in the company of an officer of the C-Sec! Ashley almost lost her temper when she saw you!"
  "Not with booze, but with very expensive alcohol!"
  The fighters were having a lot of fun, teasing me without malice, and Garrus didn't know where to hide from shame and embarrassment. I didn't understand, does he think he framed me in front of his subordinates and undermined his authority? When I met the blue eyes full of remorse and guilt, I clearly understood: yes, he does. But that's not good. I'd forgotten how sensitive Turians are to subordination and insubordination. Garrus was an atypical representative of his people, but for him, what was happening was a bit wild.
  "Oh, come on. Unlike some, Officer Vakarian is the lucky owner of the same autopilot version as me. AND he didn't cause me ANY PROBLEMS. Unlike you in the same condition!"
  "Oh, how!" the fighters whistled, looking at the confused guy with a fraction of respect.
  "So that's a good laugh. Garrus, don't mind them. It's just a joke!"
  Darg and Dylan grinned.
  "Rir, there are rumors that you've become a Spectr."
  "Are they walking already?" I blinked in surprise.
  The laughter is like a snap. The fighters exchanged glances.
  "So is it true?"
  "Truth. Garrus has been very helpful in my investigation, and Tali," I smiled at the Quarian woman huddled against the wall, "She provided the evidence we needed." I raised my hand, interrupting his attempt to protest. Garrus, we agreed yesterday that we would no longer find out who helped whom how much, and who had whose back. The three of us worked well together and our joint actions brought results that I had not hoped for.
  The fighters listened to me very attentively, knowing full well that I was telling all this just for them. Garrus stood uncertainly against the wall. It's amazing where a tough and cold-blooded warrior goes when it comes to banal praise: in front of me was an insecure guy who didn't know where to put his hands or where to look.
  The fighters calmed down and got answers to their questions. Their attitude towards Garrus and Tali subtly changed: wariness and disdain evaporated, the tall Turian was looked at with interest and respect, the girl was somewhat patronizing and friendly. They respected me. Not just Irene, but ME too. The guys felt the changes in our relationship very quickly and they were there... We are grateful. Still, Irene behaved aloof and with a bit of coldness, although she stood up for her subordinates like a mountain, preferring to conduct the showdown without unnecessary witnesses. For which they were both appreciated and respected... However, they were not allowed into the inner circle, and Irene did not seek to get there. After encouraging the fighters that they had until the evening, Garrus, Tali, and I left the ship.
  Garrus was silent while we got to the Presidium, thinking about something, and I suppose he would have remained silent. Tali started an interesting conversation for everyone:
  "Irene. Our investigation is over. I..." the girl stopped, looking at me strangely with pale eyes, barely visible behind the lilac visor of her helmet.
  "Tali... It's just beginning." I smiled. "Or have you changed your mind and don't want to come with me?"
  The girl jerked at this question, waving her arms frantically.
  "No, not at all!"
  "So are you staying?"
  "Of course! I just wanted to clarify. Maybe YOU've changed your mind..." The Quarian's soft murmuring voice faltered.
  "Tali, I don't go back on my words. And I'll be glad to see you and Garrus aboard the Normandy."
  Garrus blinked in surprise, looking into my eyes with a strange expression. This Turian just amazes me sometimes! When it comes to work, he is collected, confident, cold-blooded, tough to the point of cruelty, ruthless and reasonable, but when it comes to personal matters... so all this disappears somewhere in an unknown way, leaving a shy and extremely polite tactful young guy. How is this possible? And so it is now. He stands there, hesitating, and doesn't know how to approach me and ask to join the team. Although I can see it in his eyes: he wants to!
  "Garrus, what are your plans?" The Turian shrugged, shifting uncertainly from one foot to the other, looking at me with surprisingly blue eyes.
  "I'm assembling my own squad to complete the Council's tasks. What do you say?" Come on, come on, propose your candidacy, or at least just agree, but don't look at me with the eyes of a kitten forgotten at the door!
  "I have a job in the Security Service... I was somewhat disappointed." Garrus went out a little, absently tapping his clawed fingers on his forearm. "If you... If you don't mind, I'd like to join your squad." The guy blinked, apparently just realizing what he had said. "You said I was... good at shooting."
  It's just some kind of horror! Garrus causes an uncontrollable attack of emotion, coupled with the desire to punch him in the neck to knock out this wild insecurity and shyness.
  As far as I know, he's about twenty-seven years old now, and he's about a year younger than my body. I'm not sure exactly-I wasn't interested. I'll look at his file later. At the moment, Garrus is an employee of the investigative department of the C-Sec, to whom all the "hanging" and other not too convenient cases are being unloaded, which older colleagues do not want to take on. Vakarian's reputation in the C-Sec is quite specific. He's too honest, proud, and pushy. Do I need such a shot on the ship? Of course... YES!
  "Garrus, do you think Director Pallin would be very unhappy if we took you away from the C-Sec?" Tilting I head slightly to one side, I watched with interest as understanding flashed in her blue eyes, and her expressive face broke into an incredulous smile.
  "Director Pallin doesn't like me too much. Rather, he tolerates it. With difficulty."
  "Then I don't think he'll be too upset. Welcome to the team, Garrus Vakarian." While the confused Turian blinked in disbelief, I sat down on a bench and opened the uni-tool.
  "Thank you, Irene." That's wonderful! Now, before something unexpected happens...
  "Garrus... Do you know how to write transfer reports?" The Turian nodded, looking at me in surprise. I stared at him in silence, and he stared at me until it dawned on him.
  "Now?"
  "Don't you like this bench?" I asked with a chuckle. If you haven't changed your mind, sit down and write a report to Director Pallin about being transferred to the Normandy Special combat unit. And dictate the text to Tali. In the meantime, I'll write an order for its formation."
  It must have looked funny from the outside. Three reasonable people were excitedly scribbling official documents in their instruments, periodically correcting each other and dictating the necessary words and phrases in the official language. The order to form a detachment saw the world a couple of seconds earlier than two reports: one about the transfer, the second about the inclusion of a civilian specialist.
  And just a couple of minutes later, I received an incoming call.
  "Captain Anderson!" I smiled at my former boss, who was completely pleased.
  "Shepard. I got the documents."
  "Is there something wrong with them?" I was worried, but when I saw the sly look in his gray eyes, I relaxed.
  "There's nothing wrong with them, I've sent them to the military department and the Council's office."
  "Thank you, Captain." The man only inclined his head in a slight nod, accepting the sincere gratitude.
  "I am glad that you started forming an operational combat unit so quickly. The Alliance Battle Group is being removed from the Normandy and transferred to another ship. The Eye of the Storm is coming under my command."
  "When will the guys be filmed?"
  "It's already been removed."
  I was a little upset. I'm used to guys, but I couldn't even say goodbye here.
  "Are you taking them to the Eye?"
  Anderson nodded.
  "Is there anything else I should know in advance?"
  "Not everyone is happy that the ship with experimental equipment was given to the Spectr." Many people disagree with your appointment, but there is nothing they can really do. While. Keep this in mind."
  "Thank you, Captain."
  "Good luck, Shepard."
  The connection was lost, and I sat and pondered the veiled warning. What I remember from the canon didn't make me happy. Dear command will act frankly like a pig with Shepard. Well. In any case, I won't be able to do anything properly until I pass the key point with the Lazarus project. The chain of events is too rigidly fixed. But, nevertheless, it is possible to change something. And I'm not me if my dear superiors don't expect a surprise! And we'll have to do something about the Ghost. But - all this later. Garrus, would you be so kind as to escort us to the C-Sec.
  ***
  The C-Sec greeted us with loud cursing and the rumbling voice of a krogan arguing with an officer. The stumbling block was a powerful shotgun, a weapon that is certainly prohibited from being carried on the territory of the Citadel. The shotgun was still taken away, and the evil Krogan remained standing at the massive elevator leading somewhere into the bowels of the C-Sec.
  "Do you often have this here?" I asked quietly.
  "Constantly." Garrus purred. "This is Rex. It's not the first time he's been here, and it won't be the last."
  The Krogan noticed our intensely entertaining trio and watched intently. Did you find out? Is he really going to try to put money behind Fist's head?
  "You. A human." A gruff voice made it clear that Rex had finally made up his mind and recognized me. "Do they call you Shepherd?"
  I stopped, peering with interest at the scarred face.
  "Do I have to answer?" The Krogan rolled away from the elevator wall, which he had been propping up with his shoulder.
  "My name is Rex. The Shadow Broker transferred me a decent amount to get rid of the Fist. But you beat me to it."
  The Krogans basically used the word "You" solely as a plural indicator.
  "And?" I asked with interest.
  "When I get paid for a job, I do it." Rex came almost right up to me, looming over me with his whole mass. "Alone."
  Garrus tensed. Tali got nervous and took a step back.
  "Your problem is that you were so slow." I purred, and a flat disc of a grenade flashed between my fingers.
  The Krogan noticed it.
  "Your people are becoming very... nimble, if properly stimulated." I tossed the grenade in the palm of my hand.
  And Rex suddenly burst out laughing.
  "So it really was you."
  "Where?" I asked naively, blinking my eyes. The grenade, as if by magic, evaporated.
  Rex chuckled and stretched his lips into a crooked grin. Apparently, my unhealthy tendencies and craving for grenades found a lively response in his soul.
  "You did my job." Rex returned to the unfinished conversation. "So you should get the money, too."
  "Rex, are you going to pay for a Fist?" I raised an eyebrow and looked at the Krogan with genuine interest. "For me?"
  "I won't take money for someone else's work! I transferred them to your account."
  He did it! Shaking my head, I stared at the strange face of the powerful Krogan with some confusion. I didn't believe that this mercenary really took such things so seriously...
  "I liked the way you handled the Fist." The heavy gaze shifted to Garrus. "I hear you're hunting Saren."
  "Rumors spread quickly." Garrus rasped faintly.
  Rex ignored him.
  "I want to go with you." The Krogan slapped me, staring intently into my eyes.
  And that's what to do with it? Does he really think that a military officer would take a mercenary with a dubious reputation with him?
  "Rex, you're a mercenary. What's the benefit to you in chasing Saren?"
  The Krogan was silent for several long, agonizing minutes, staring intently into my eyes. And I couldn't read his emotions. Complete phlegm.
  "I'm not doing this for the money." The rumbling bass only emphasized the seriousness of his intentions, literally hammering every word. "I want to be somewhere hot. A storm is coming, and you and Saren are in the middle of it."
  Great job. An adrenaline junkie in a particularly neglected form with a code of honor that I don't understand. Although... Whoever's talking. I looked at the Krogan thoughtfully:
  "You do realize that there are a lot of Krogan working for Saren."
  "These are not Krogan!" Rex growled, waving his hand in exasperation. "These are servants and slaves! They lick Saren's heels for the promise of power and wealth!"
  Oh, so Rex is really good.
  "My people were a proud race! Some of us still remember it."
  "Okay. Consider yourself accepted into the team. On probation."
  The Krogan nodded.
  "Write a report." my words have already flown in the back. "Anyway, where are you going?"
  Rex stopped, turned slowly, and stared at my contented face with genuine surprise.
  "Since you've signed up for a place in the squad, you can get to work. Come with us."
  Rex grunted rumblingly, and I caught the uncomprehending look in his blue eyes and explained in a whisper:
  "Garrus, are you going to put all the weapons and armor on your hump? Won't anything fall off?"
  The Turian gasped and coughed, and Tali giggled softly.
  "First to Pallin, let's make him happy about your transfer, and then gut the arsenals!"
  ***
  Pallin didn't say anything. He just read the report and silently confirmed it. He just stared at the nervous Garrus for a long time with a hard gaze. I believe he was aware of my current status and the role Garrus played in my investigation and subsequent appointment. And he wasn't at all surprised to see such a strange international company barging into his office. For a split second, I thought I saw a flicker of regret in his eyes.
  As we were leaving, a quiet sound flew at our backs:
  "Good luck, Vakarian. I hope you know what you're doing."
  Garrus flinched, but gave no sign that he had heard anything. But I didn't focus on it.
  We walked to the quartermaster in heavy silence. Garrus walked thoughtfully through the corridors of the C-Sec, responding incongruously to the greetings of former colleagues. Tali was tactfully silent, but Rex didn't really care. He woke up when we stopped in front of the quartermaster, a tall Turian with bright yellow eyes.
  "Commander Shepard. The armed forces of the Alliance. For the first time at the Citadel. Right?"
  The quartermaster's low, hoarse voice brought Garrus back to reality.
  "Right."
  Despite my appointment as a Spectr, my dear superiors were not going to let me out of their hands. There's nothing I can do about it right now, and I don't need to. But after the key point... Then we'll see how I get off the hook.
  "Will you take anything today, Commander Shepard?"
  The Turian leaned on the table and looked at me with interest, waiting for an answer. The military of all races could stock up on new weapons and armor in the arsenals of the C-Sec. For the money. But I am a Spectrum, and there are special arsenals and vaults for them. Free of charge.
  "I will."
  The quartermaster nodded and tapped on the keyboard.
  "Good. Let's check yours now..." The Turian stammered, staring at the screen in amazement. "wow... You have access to the arsenals of the Special Corps. Are you Ma'am a Spectr?"
  I nodded.
  "Oh! I've heard about the appointment of a human Spectre, but I didn't know it was you. Congratulations."
  "Thank you. This appointment is an honor for me."
  "The Turian nodded understandingly, typing the access code into the terminal."
  "I beg." A three-fingered palm pointed at the door that had opened. "Do you know the rules?"
  "I know." I put my ID card on the table. "I need armor kits not only for me, but also for my colleague."
  "Name?"
  "Nihlus Kraik."
  The quartermaster choked on his breath.
  "I heard he's dead!"
  "The rumors are exaggerated. He's seriously injured, but he's still alive. His old armor is beyond repair, and since I'm here, I'll bring a set for him."
  "I will note that some of the uniforms were taken for another operative."
  "Sure."
  The Turian read the data from the ID card and returned it to me. Only Garrus was allowed inside with me, and that was after my fair comment that I was alone, and I needed to take a lot of stuff. I rejected the idea of robbing the arsenal with high quality, but I took the armor on myself, Nihlus and Garrus. Two sets each. It took longer to choose a weapon. I remembered roughly what Nihlus had before disembarking, and the armor boxes were joined by boxes with assault rifles, pistols, three shotguns, and all sorts of small things like grenades and first-aid kits. Garrus silently carried the heavy boxes and unloaded them at Rex's feet. As I was about to leave, I noticed IT: the Harpoon sniper system.
  I came out of the arsenal with a happy face, hugging two long boxes with sniper rifles. Saying goodbye to the puzzled quartermaster, I silently pointed to the pile of boxes and stomped to the elevator.
  How we got to Normandy is a separate song! Swearing. Garrus and Rex carried their honestly looted possessions, hissing and swearing softly as Tali tried to hold back a mountain of small boxes. And I was carrying a pyramid of five weapon boxes. They watched us go with SUCH looks that if it hadn't been for such a burden, I would have been ashamed... probably. And yes, I had to do it manually! The armories of the Special Corps did not provide trolleys, loaders or home delivery. Except for a pre-arranged request to board the ship.
  As soon as we fell into the airlock, the deadly cargo ended up on the floor, and we, swearing, straightened up and rubbed our crushed arms and stretched backs.
  "Damn it! Shopping in the SPECTR arsenals is an extremely exciting business... but shopping is hard..." I muttered while the disinfection was going on.
  "Why so much?" Garrus pointed at the armor boxes.
  "Medium armor is for you. It's too much for Nihlus."
  "For me?" Garrus blinked in confusion. "But I'm not a Spectr!"
  The airlock doors parted. Picking up the boxes, I stumbled into the corridor, kicking the unstable pyramid out of the airlock.
  "So what? You don't have any proper armor or weapons. What they gave you at the C-Sec..."
  "I've already passed." The guy spread his hands.
  "That's exactly what passed! And when did you get there? What you're wearing right now won't even protect you from a light assault rifle! We'll take them to the armory, where we'll divide them up."
  That's what I like about the Normandy, it's the convenient distribution of the interior space and the elevator right at the airlock. So all we had to do was move the cargo through a narrow corridor, and a little later, bring it into the arsenal, the entrance to which was also located near the elevator.
  I laid out the boxes and picked up one of them.
  "Rex."
  The Krogan growled questioningly.
  "This is your compensation for the confiscated shotgun."
  Krogan took the box and examined it with pleasure.
  "Good! Thank you, Shepherd!"
  "Irene." I smiled at the pleased Krogan, who was unpacking a new toy.
  "Tali, you're not supposed to be a fighter, but you have to have a weapon." A box with a powerful pistol slid across the metal table.
  "Oh!" the girl caught the box with both hands.
  And now the most interesting part!
  Making Garrus blush is probably my favorite thing to do in the last twenty-four hours! It's worth doing something for him, as the guy immediately gets lost and stands, blinking his eyes in confusion. It feels like the very idea that someone could do something for him JUST like that doesn't fit in his head! He is so sincerely grateful and so sensitive to ANY expressions of care and banal human warmth, which only strengthens the desire to do some small thing for him and feel this storm of bright and pure emotions again. And this is already happening, even though my empathy has just started to work. But what will happen when I get my mentalism back in full and start feeling even the slightest fluctuations of emotions?
  Even now, he stands there, hesitating, squinting at the Harpoon. And he can't believe that it was really taken for him. Although outwardly he is a calm, confident fighter. Emotions are shown by small, almost imperceptible gestures: uncertain shifting from one foot to the other, twitching fingers, mandibles tightly pressed to cheeks and, most importantly, eyes. Truly - a mirror of the soul!
  "Garrus, don't look at the Harpoon like that. It's really yours."
  The box of beacons, which he had just been twirling in his hands, fell out of his fingers with a crash.
  "Yours is yours." The long box slid across the table and skidded to a stop next to the barely perceptibly quivering claws. "You're a sniper from God. I can only give you a decent weapon. Of all the things in the arsenal, the Harpoon is the most worthy."
  Silence, and a quiet purring voice:
  "Thank you."
  ***
  In the late afternoon, I went to the infirmary. Nihlus was lying on his bunk and was frankly bored, and he was pleased to see me. After telling him everything that happened after that ill-fated shot, I pleased him with my appointment to the Spectr's and let him listen to the conversation with the Council...
  And then we just sat and chatted about all sorts of nonsense. A little later, a satisfied Garrus pulled himself into the infirmary, already wearing a new armor. We just sat there, exchanging life stories, until Karin came and kicked Garrus and me out, commanding Niallus not to move or touch his healing wound.
  The binding worked as it should, and the regeneration accelerated by drugs and an excess of vital energy gave hope that by the time Nilus arrived on Artemis's Tau, he would already be able to stand up.
  The crew would return from their leave only in the morning, but for now, the ship's decks, immersed in a pleasant twilight, remained mysteriously quiet and calm. The tedious day is over.I was sitting on the couch in the lounge area, sipping a soft drink. Much has been done and more needs to be done. But now, in the silence and darkness, I could calmly think about what was happening and somehow prepare for the coming events.
   Tomorrow morning we will fly to Tau Artemis for Liara T"Sony.
  Chapter 10: Problems
  At exactly eight o'clock in the morning, Galactic time, the entire crew of the Normandy was in place. The ship was preparing for departure, people were checking the systems, fixing minor problems and fiddling with the settings. And I thoughtfully studied the list of the crew and the reasonable ones assigned to the "Norm". And by the end of the list, I was, frankly, in a state of mild prostration. They took off the combat squad, but they left a dozen parasites from the military police! What the fuck do I need on board a ton of lightly armed meat standing at the door and a special agent poking his nose where he shouldn't? You can't even send them into battle - they're not supposed to! Farther. The squad was removed, but Ashley and Alenko were left behind. Where is the logic? Take these two and give me Dylan and Darg back! Okay, at least one Darg! I'm trading in Ashley, Alenko, and all the fuckers from the military police. I can even give someone else away as a bonus. Except for the Joker, Karin, and Greg. I'm even willing to give Pressley away in exchange for Darg and Dylan. Oh well. Why dream of the impossible?
  The actions of the authorities left strong suspicions, and I dialed Anderson's number. Maybe he can clarify something?
  The captain replied quickly:
  "Is Shepard's spectr?"
  "Captain Anderson. Do you have the opportunity to speak?"
  "Yes."
  "Why did they leave an Alliance military police unit on the Normandy?" I asked bluntly.
  "Those are the rules. A military police team must be present on the Alliance ships."
  "As far as I know, the Normandy has been withdrawn from the fleet and transferred to the Spectr."
  "Withdrawn. Do you want to get off the ship?" The captain asked ironically
  "Can I?"
  "You have the right. As A Spectr Of Cansel. But the command of the Air Force will not appreciate it."
  "What should I do for this?"
  "Just order it."
  "Why did Williams and Alenko leave?"
  "Ashley Williams has been accepted by you into the combat squad. Kayden Alenko was left on board as a participant in the events on Eden Prime."
  "Are they subordinate to me or to the leadership of the MSF?"
  "The leadership of the Alliance's Air Force." Anderson smiled faintly at the corners of his lips. "I have left the documents and orders for you and the Normandy in the captain's cabin."
  "Thank you, Captain."
  Anderson gave me a reassuring smile. The connection was lost, and I went to my cabin. The documents were found in the desk. Settling down on the bed, I immersed myself in reading these very documents, waiting with all my heart for some kind of nastiness. The setup didn't take long to appear: the clearer the picture unfolded before my eyes, the more I realized what kind of ass I was in, and how beautifully the command framed me and firmly chained me up. The "gift" to Normandy is a generous gesture at first glance. The native authorities voluntarily give me the newest ship, like, you need a private taxi, you are the first Spectr, blah blah blah about pride and honor, in short, use it and remember that the Motherland will not forget you. Yeah, I didn't even doubt that. They'll forget, of course. This is my pink dream, absolutely unattainable. In the original, Shepard won't even be allowed to die like a human, but will be captured in space and put into action in a second round. Of course, to lose such a well-promoted brand as a Hero!
  Okay, let's look further. The Normandy was indeed withdrawn from the fleet, but as a combat ship belonging to the Alliance, it was transferred to some unknown civilian or military unit, the S-1, which reports to no one knows who. And I was there, according to the order, exactly half a day before I was appointed Spectr. Was I given to Cerberus like that? Very similar! That is, I am a citizen of the Alliance, I don't understand what status, I don't understand with what duties and rights, and I don't understand who I obey! I don't have any data on this strange division, and I suspect I'll be able to find it even with the help of a Gray Intermediary. Farther. All the provision of the "Norm" goes through this strange office. And I don't understand what kind of sucker I'm on. They don't pay me any money, I don't have a title, and my status is unclear. What am I anyway according to these documents?
  Damn it! I'll survive Lazarus, I'll buy Anderson a personal trough with a box of dough and a huge bar! For these pieces of paper and for the thick hint. He's really worried about me. And he understands what kind of ass I'm in and what kind of turn I'm being taken into.
  A One-time Hero. Okay, reusable! There is even a Lazarus project, and I doubt that SUCH a thing is born in two years.
  The situation is super simple! At least go and ask for political asylum from the Council. Or the Sovereign The Nazars. It's also a good option. With such a superior, the Ruler is generally the very nobility and honesty in the flesh! Oh well. As a last resort, I'll die. Is this the first time? Although it's a pity, I have personal plans here that I would like to make a reality before heroically throwing my hooves away.
  Laughing angrily softly, I put the documents away. If it hadn't been for that fucking Lazarus and the key point, we could have taken action now, but we can't. Therefore, it is necessary to prepare the ground for the future and assemble a team. And the authorities will breathe a sigh of relief if I don't accept the situation with cow-like resignation, but do something. Like, the kid believed it. Well, well...
  The documents dissolved in my hands. My personal spatial pocket is not able to accommodate much, especially now, but one file got in, although I feel like I moved a monorail car on my back.
  The cold door cooled his hot head pleasantly. I stood with my forehead against the metal and slowly calmed down. There's nothing I can do right now. Must not. But then... Then we'll see. In the meantime, we should take care of the ship.
  An hour later, the Special Forces military police squad was evicted, and the Normandy, having moored from the Citadel, headed for the repeater. We have a little over three hours to fly to this miracle of Reaper engineering, and then jump into the Tau of Artemis.
  This sector includes four systems: Macedonia, Athens, Knossos and Sparta. The information from the Council did not specify which system Liara works in. I didn't remember that for sure either, but the name of the planet stuck in my memory: Terum. I think the Joker will be able to tell you which system this planet is in.
  There was no one else in the control room except the Joker. I dropped into the ever-empty copilot's seat and greeted the pilot with a nod.
  "You don't look well, Rir." The Joker glanced at me briefly. "You haven't slept for half the night again?"
  I shrugged my shoulders vaguely.
  "You see everything, Joker."
  "Well, who else will look after you, Captain?" Moreau chuckled. "And yet, Rir, did something happen?"
  "Problems, Jeff. Future and current ones. I have a bad feeling about this."
  "How was Eden Prime?"
  "Worse."
  We were silent for a while. I watched Jeff lead the Norma to the repeater, weaving through the dense traffic, lazily sprawled in a chair. I managed to establish a relationship with the Joker. Moreau was a guy with a developed sense of humor and was attracted to people. As soon as I showed my true character, talked to him like a human being, without the husk of officiousness and Regulations, Jeff thawed and quickly accepted me into the inner circle. However, sometimes he still squints. He doesn't believe it. I still can't believe that Eden Prime changed me so much.
  "Where are we going?"
  "The Terum. The planet is somewhere in the Tau sector of Artemis."
  "I know. An industrial planet in the Knossos system. A hot garbage dump, rich in heavy metals. What are we doing there?"
  "Dr. Liara T"Sony. She's been studying Prothean ruins, and Therum has plenty of them. Daughter of the matriarch of Benesia."
  "Do you need her as a prisoner? Or..."
  "I hope for or." I caught the Joker's amused look. "what?"
  "At this rate, you'll soon have more non-humans than humans on your ship."
  "Do you have something against it?" I raised an eyebrow.
  "I don't trust them." the guy confessed. "The same Nihlus..."
  "And what about Nihlus? Look deeper, Jeff. Don't look at your appearance. Don't look at official behavior and words. Try to see the personality." I smiled. "And then you will have a surprise waiting for you. Nihlus will not let you down or betray you. Like all Turians, he is painfully honest. Fortunately, at least he's not too fixated on subordination and hierarchy, if what I've heard about him is true. However, this is a feature of his civilization. Tell me, Jeff, do you find many PEOPLE like that?"
  The Joker sighed sadly, accepting that I was right.
  "You used to be more... categorically."
  "Stupid because I was." shrugging my shoulders, I easily admitted. "Xenophobia is a disease of the mind that is unable to overcome its fears and stereotypes and prejudices invented by someone. It doesn't matter to me which race my subordinate belongs to. And, even more so, a friend. Friends are too valuable and rare to select them based on race. You either have a friend or you don't have one. It doesn't matter what color his blood is, how many fingers he has on his hands, or what kind of face he has."
  A wave of surprise and thoughtfulness suddenly flashed from the entrance to the control room, and I could barely resist the urge to turn around. Instead, I shifted slightly, catching a reflection on the polished side of the console. She peered into the murky spot and barely suppressed a smile: Garrus was standing at the door.
  "Ashley won't agree with you."
  "That's Ashley's problem. If she doesn't change her mind about the new team members, I'll say goodbye to her."
  "Cruelly."
  "Jeff, I've been given Spectr status. It is a great honor and no less a huge responsibility. Not only for people, but for everyone else. I will be watched very carefully. I have no right to demonstrate xenophobia. And I don't want to."
  The murky reflection was gone: the tactful Turian had left as silently as he had come, unwilling to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for his ears.
  "How long do we have to fly?"
  "A couple of hours to the repeater and eight days to Knossos. There's still five hours from the repeater to the planet."
  "Long."
  "We're flying across the galaxy." Jeff shrugged his shoulders. "It's fast. Six jumps will have to be made. I couldn't cut any more."
  "I won't distract you. If you need anything... Well, you know." Jeff smiled and nodded, without taking his eyes off the ugly Azarian ship weaving in front of us.
  "The XO wanted to see you." The Joker called after me.
  I nodded and left the control room. I wonder if in reality the XO will also reproach me with aliens on board? Considering the general level of xenophobia in the Navy... Most likely, yes, it will. Especially for the Turians. However, as far as I remember, over time he got used to it and even became friends with someone. As much as possible for a military man to the core.
  The conversation with the XO brought nothing new, except that it left a slight aftertaste of irritation. Pressley did not directly reproach me for anything, but indirectly pointed out the inadmissibility of the presence of aliens on board. You see, this is a matter for humanity, and it's not a good idea to ask for outside help. Yeah... of course... We are steeper than a dunghill, and the mountains tremble from our might. We don't need anyone! Is it okay that the only real fighters on my ship are Rex and Garrus? Tali is a technician, and he's not even able to fend off bandits right now. Ashley can kick me or hand me over to the Alliance command if I decide to "step left, step right." Kayden is generally a separate song. A biotic with L2 is a dangerous implant that can either lead to psychosis or burn out the last brains. I just don't talk about wild migraines. What kind of fighter is he if he can barely think from the pain in his head? What about overreaction to bright lights and noise? And there is nothing to help him - L2 cannot be withdrawn!
  I'll have to find out on occasion what the authorities were guided by when they recalled the combat group, leaving me with an aggressive xenophobic and a disabled biotic. The fact that Garrus, Rex, and Tali were on board was my merit and, in general, an accident. Naylus hasn't been a fighter for another ten days. With a natural recovery, it takes two or three decades.
  It's going to be bad on Therum...
  Anyway, in this state, I entered the lounge, which is also the recreation area, where I found the aliens I was looking for and Ashley, who was unhappy with their presence. The atmosphere was pre-storm: Garrus was furious, Tali was offended and silent, Rex didn't give a damn, and Ashley was fuming and gurgling. Don't you understand? Did they have a fight?
  "What happened here?"
  "Irene's spectr." When I heard the cold rasping voice of the Turian, I wanted to bang my head against the wall. "Your crew members do not agree with our presence on board."
  That's why I love Turians, so it's for honesty and directness! And the ability to think fast!
  "That's how?" My voice took on a deceptive softness. "Ashley?"
  "Saren attacked our colony. We have to stop him!" The girl said hotly, clenching her fists. "Humanity solves its own problems!"
  Great Gods and Demons, give me patience! Otherwise, I'll throw it out somewhere along the way and say that I fell out myself!
  "Tell them we don't need their help." Garrus shuddered at my affectionate tone and exchanged glances with Tali, while Rex emerged from his phlegmatic state, listening with interest to the conversation. Or that Garrus is a Turian and should not be trusted."
  Ashley must have felt something, too, because she immediately backed off.
  "I'm sorry, Commander. I had no right to say that."
  It's too late, my dear! I'm not going to fix your brain! I'll still have someone to mess with and practice the science of brain surgery and shrinkage!
  "I'm NOT a commander. Having received Spectr status, I officially withdrew from the Alliance's military space forces. I, as a Spectrum, DO NOT OBEY the Alliance's MSF. Only the Citadel Council. The Normandy was withdrawn from the fleet and, roughly speaking, given to me. From dear superiors to the first Spectr-to a person." Venom dripped from his fangs: he couldn't contain his sarcastic irony. "Only the Council sets tasks for me. I can take into account the recommendations and wishes of the Alliance's Air Force, but they have no right to order me. Am I making myself clear?"
  "Yes, the Spectr."
  "Free to go!"
  Ashley abruptly turned around and literally flew out of the cabin.
  "I'm sorry that we're causing you problems with the crew." Garrus said softly.
  Falling onto the couch, I rubbed my temples tiredly.
  "Not worth it. Ashley is a xenophobe and there is no cure. She does not want to change her attitude towards representatives of other races. So she doesn't belong in the landing party."
  The Turian opened his mouth to protest, but I held up my hand, and he shut up understandingly.
  "I can't take an unreliable fighter with me. I have to be absolutely sure that everyone in the squad will be ready to watch their partner's back, regardless of his or her race. Ashley got on board by accident just a couple of days before the ship arrived at the Citadel. I can tolerate a lot and turn a blind eye to a lot, but not that kind of attitude. On the other hand, Ashley is a military man, and if she receives an order from the command, she will carry it out, even if it goes against the goals of my mission.
  Garrus nodded slowly, accepting my explanation.
  "Shepard, why do you keep people on the ship who might fail?" Rex boomed.
  "Not all at once, Rex."
  The mood was gone completely. If it were possible, I would have changed half the crew! The only thing that holds you back is the irrationality of this act. As long as I act within the framework that suits my former superiors, everything is fine! But if I step aside a little bit... I'm afraid I'm in trouble. However, I'm not going to return to the arms of my beloved MSF, even if the Spectr status is removed from me. It's better to become a mercenary, honestly, and it's more familiar somehow. Okay, time will tell.
  "We have eight days to fly. Have you been settled yet?"
  In response, there is a synchronous negative swing.
  "I ordered the butler to put you in your cabins!"
  Anger took my breath away.
  "We were told there were no available cabins." Rex said phlegmatically.
  "Come with me."
  I stood up with a jerk. After the eviction of the military police, the cabins were vacated. Either I didn't understand something, or someone decided to petty sabotage my orders!
  The showdown turned out to be fun. The butler, that brute Pakti, took advantage of the moment to settle the crew one at a time and took an empty seat! The "norm" was intended for permanent residence of forty-five reasonable people. The crew consists of twenty-eight people, including me, two officers and the pilot. I have my own cabin, and the doctor lives in a private compartment adjacent to the infirmary. The XO, chief engineer, and Jeff live in separate cabins. The first two are as officers of the ship, Jeff is unable to use the capsules due to his health. In fact, ten to twelve cabins should remain vacant, since many prefer to sleep in fancy sleeping capsules, and the cabins with them are six-seater.
  In general, the day was ruined. Having solved the problem of accommodation and packed the crew more tightly, I freed up the cabins for the landing party. As a result, I managed to free up five double cabins, three of which I gave to Garrus, Tali and Rex, respectively, while there is such a luxury as free space. I assigned another one to Nihlus. Not everyone can live in the infirmary. Something must be done about the combat group... Perhaps Naylus can tell you how to resolve this issue.
  It occurred to me that as a being who had gotten out of the rut of events, Nihlus could really help and hedge against slippery moments. But for this it is necessary to tell him, if not everything, then a lot.
  Is it worth it?
  ***
  Leaving the soldiers to rest and settle in a new place, I headed for the infirmary. I wanted to get drunk or kill. Or better yet, both.
  In the infirmary, I was greeted by silence and tranquility, a light twilight, dispelled only by the dim light of the lamp above Nihlus' bed. Karin was not there, but the green light on the door to the private cabin made it clear that the doctor was there. When I stumbled into this realm of tranquility, Naylus looked up from his reading, looking at my disheveled and angry face with mild surprise.
  "Irene's spectr?"
  Wearily, I sank onto the next bed, holding my head in my hands. Half a day. It's only been half a day, and I feel like I've been mentally raped, chewed up, and spat out! Nilus unplugged the datapad and placed it on his stomach.
  What happened?
  "It's easier to say what didn't happen." I whispered. "Nielus, do you have a ship?"
  The Turian nodded cautiously.
  "How did you get it?"
  "The Citadel's advice was given." a concise answer.
  "And my former boss gave it to me. With the crew."
  Nihlus immediately understood what I was trying to say.
  "Problems?"
  "Yes." the head responded with a lingering pain of overload. "You're still my handler, aren't you?"
  A short, wary nod.
  "I need some advice." I was surprised at how helpless my voice sounded.
  "Tell me." The soft command was clearly heard in the rumbling voice.
  And I began the story. From checking the crew and the lists of reasonable people on board to settling in and providing all the necessary new fighters. Nihlus listened without interrupting, only occasionally asking clarifying questions. Calm green eyes, without a trace of mockery or irritation, stared intently at my face. And I told him. Their conclusions, concerns, opinions, and decisions made before departure. About the military police unit that was kicked off the ship, about the special agent with whom I had a big fight, about his veiled threats, about the clash between Ashley and Garrus, about Pressley, about... Yes, about everything. And as an apotheosis, she just handed him the same file.
  Nihlus took it cautiously.
  "Take it. Read it, rate it. I have no words left. Only fuck." I swallowed the ending of "and the desire to escape under Saren's wing" safely.
  The Turian blinked in surprise, but opened this collection of joy and immersed himself in reading. And I was sitting on the bed, hugging my knee and silently watching the emotions change on his face.
  For giving this folder to the Spectr, my dear superiors will court-martial me! An interesting thought flashed through my mind: "Don't I give a fuck? He'll give it back anyway." But the truth is, he will give it back. Naylus finished reading, automatically folded the waste paper into a folder and closed it, looking somewhere into eternity and thinking about something. His expression was indescribable, and His Majesty's emotions were filled with Shock. He must have been impressed, too. Nihlus is no fool. He understood as well as I did WHAT those stinking pieces of paper meant. Or even more. See how he gets crushed, shock turns to anger, rage turns into dumbfounded disgust, only to drown in anger again.
  "That's the way it is." I announced gloomily.
  The green eyes stared intently and hard. Finally, Nielus replied in a low, growling voice:
  "I can give you some advice. But will you follow him?"
  "I'm not asking out of idle curiosity."
  "Get rid of anyone who poses a threat." He pressed the Spectr down hard. "So that suspicion doesn't fall on you."
  The handsome man! I adore him already! He just offered to kill half the crew. The kindest creature! And him right. In an amicable way, this is what should be done.
  "I see you've assessed the situation correctly." I smiled mirthlessly. "And where will I get a new carriage?" I asked phlegmatically. "I can only keep Dr. Karin, the pilot and the chief engineer. The rest are not trustworthy. There is no combat group. We will arrive at Therum in eight days, and I'm afraid there will be problems there. Serious problems. You won't be back on your feet anytime soon."
  "The wound heals quickly." a close look. "TOO fast!"
  "Did the doctor tell you?"
  Nihlus just nodded.
  "Do you mind?"
  "No." a slight smile: mandibles slightly parted. "I have an idea of the severity of the injury." the claw tapped lightly on the datapad. "They rarely survive with such wounds, even in the clinic. I'm not going to ask how you know about energy recharge and what these signs are."
  "Don't you believe in the Prothean lighthouse?" I raised an eyebrow.
  In response, an ironic look from bright green eyes.
  A jolt of pain shot through his temples. The migraine was developing, threatening to plunge me into a semi-conscious state soon. The seventh layer of the aura was unfolding, and along with it, mentalism and the empath's gift-curse were activated. In a good way, I need to sleep a lot and soundly in a completely dark and noise-insulated room right now, and I'm running around the ship like I've been shot, swimming in a pile of negativity. Hello, regular sensitive shock, I missed you so much!
  "Into this... It's hard to believe." the Turian honestly admitted. "The actions of your leadership are mine... They are amazing."
  "Believe me. It's just like them."
  A short pause. Disbelief in his eyes. A storm of rising fury.
  "How can you believe them after that?"
  "What kind of faith or trust can we talk about?" I asked ironically, wincing at the pain.
  But you keep doing the job.
  "I'm not doing this for my superiors or my native race, from which I have a quiet desire to stupidly escape. Rather, I'm doing it... For your sake. A council that treated me better than my former boss and gave me a chance to become someone more. For Tali and Garrus, who sincerely helped me in a hopeless case and covered my back, for the same Rex, who voluntarily followed me without doubts and mercantile interest, for the Joker, who has nowhere to go. For your sake." The green eyes blinked in surprise. You believed in me, decided to give me a chance to join the elite of the Galaxy, and died because of your trust."
  "Died?" Nielus echoed.
  Yes, mother ete! That's why I'm so terribly struck by la-la at the moment of revealing mentalism? Is this a curse? Or does the brain shut down at this time? I closed my eyes. I shouldn't have started this conversation. I should have gone to bed. But in this state, I will not be able to switch off, and the sensitive shock will smoothly turn into overload and coma of arbitrary duration. It's going to be a great prospect!
  A short pause, a hard gaze.
  "You're not Irene Shepard." He told me how he put it. Wow... I guessed it. He's smart... Just not at the right time! Or on time?
  "Technically, I'm Irene Shepard."
  "Technically?"
  "Do you really want to know the truth?" I looked at the Turian with academic interest. "Are you sure you can believe in her? What DO YOU WANT? Don't you think I'm sick in the head?"
  "I WANT TO KNOW. I'm ready to believe it."
  A tough guy. I wouldn't risk giving you a willingness to believe in some nonsense right away.
  "We'll see. I have about forty minutes before the sensory shock takes me down. If I can't get rid of the negativity and calm down, I'll fall into a coma for an unknown period." I raised my hand, interrupting Nihlus, who was ready to ask questions. "Do you remember when I went to the infirmary shortly before landing on Eden Prime?"
  A short nod.
  "It was an echo of agony. Death does not pass without consequences. At that moment, I was experiencing it, and my body was responding to my brain's commands. The body was dying along with the mind."
  "But you're alive."
  "Technically, yes. The old soul was ripped out and a new one was inserted. It feels wonderful! Especially when you get used to someone else's body and feel: hello, a new rebirth. I hope you're familiar with the theory of reincarnation in this reality?"
  "I'm familiar with it."
  "You can look at her living proof." Nihlus shook his head skeptically.
  "Do you remember your past life?"
  "And more than one. Then I'll tell you and show you something interesting. By the way. Energy recharge is just an example of knowledge from a past life."
  "I can believe that."
  Interestingly, he really believed it. His emotions were slowly replaced by amazement and burning curiosity.
  "Go on."
  There was some kind of strange state of indifference. I wanted to speak out, at least to tell someone about the abyss into which this world is heading. So why not him?
  "From life to life, I am reborn as a key figure of embodied reality, around which all the important events that shape history and the cycle of development revolve. This is Shepard here."
  "What is embodied reality?"
  The handsome man! I clearly figured out the main question.
  "This is a reality that rigidly follows a predetermined chain of events. If she passes these events and key points of history, she will not get a chance to develop independently. Only a creature from outside can change these events."
  "How are you?"
  "Like me. In fact, this is a kind of symbiosis: I am given a chance for a new interesting life," I couldn't help but laugh nervously, "and reality gets a chance to break away from the hard path and become independent. For if it does not separate, then at the end of events it will stagnate and collapse. And I'm with her. So, I am vitally interested in Branching out, and this reality became Reflected and began to develop. Then, after another death, I will enter the next world. And I will have a new life. If I fail, my soul will be returned back to the forge. You must admit, the incentive is quite significant.
  "Do you know the future of this world?"
  "Only in general terms. Key events that cannot be bypassed, but can be changed. The further away from the start of a predefined story, the more likely it is to be shifted off the beaten track."
  "What was the first key point?"
  "I think you guessed it yourself."
  "Eden Prime?"
  "Yes. Point zero. The beginning of the countdown."
  "Key events?"
  The spectr asked dryly and calmly.
  "The landing, Jenkins' death under Geth drones, the meeting with Ashley, your meeting with Saren and death from a gunshot to the back of the head, my meeting with the lighthouse and its destruction. The result of this chain of events is an investigation at the Citadel in Garrus' company, proof of Saren's betrayal, and obtaining Spectr status. The key block. The result: Garrus, Tali, and Rex become members of my squad, and I receive the Normandy and the mission to stop Saren."
  "How do you know that?"
  "It's a kind of intuition, even if you don't really know. An echo of information from the noosphere of reality."
  "Your knowledge is accurate." the Turian objected.
  "Yes. Don't ask me where. I won't tell. Or I will, but not now."
  Nielus nodded slowly.
  "Why didn't you save Jenkins too?"
  "The experience of many lives has shown that one thing can be changed. And the more significant the impact on the future, the harder it is to achieve change. Saving Jenkins was simple. For you, it's almost impossible. To bypass the meeting with the lighthouse is unrealistic at all."
  Nihlus thought about it.
  "Why?" a quiet, calm question. The sea can be so calm in the eye of a hurricane.
  "Why what?"
  "Why was it almost impossible to save me?"
  "Because you can significantly influence the story."
  Nihlus listened calmly, only his fingers were trembling and his mandibles were pressed tightly to his cheeks.
  "However, if I hadn't hidden the fact of your survival, you would have died in a million accidents, and history would still have followed the beaten path. That's why I excluded you from the chain of events. Everyone was absolutely convinced of your death before I got Spectr status. The chain ended as it should have, and you fell out of the interests of reality. Now you, like me, are free to act. The purpose was fulfilled to the fullest extent: at the right moment you were dead.
  "Was I supposed to die?"
  "In any case. Your death is a key moment. Do you think you just got shot at point blank range? If I hadn't intervened, you would have died at that spaceport, even if in a slightly different way, which is not so significant. The result is the same: death at the spaceport at the hands of Saren."
  The Turian closed his eyes, slowly digesting the news. I scolded myself with the last words, but I really wanted to have SUCH an assistant who clearly understood what was going on. I got tired of being a lone hero eight lifetimes ago. It's just that one day I got sick of solving a bunch of intelligent problems I didn't know. And since then, I've been pulling a creature I liked out of the story chain and sharing information and the burden of a Hero with it. Surely I'm not the only one to work for the benefit of reality? However, they rarely believed. And then I had to kill them to keep the secret. Hopefully, Naylus will be one of the few who will believe right away. And he can help.
  I really didn't want to kill him. very.
  "Why did you save me instead of Jenkins?"
  The quiet question was somehow expected. However, not now.
  "I liked you as a person." I shrugged my shoulders. "To let you die would be... in some ways it is blasphemous and simply stupid. I grinned at the startled look on his face. Logically speaking, rather than emotionally, Jenkins is useless. His survival or death did not affect anything. He is a figure who disappears from the horizon before he has time to appear. And I need help. Somehow, I'm not too interested in dragging your reality into a bright future on my own."
  Nihlus chuckled.
  "Frankly."
  I shrugged my shoulders.
  "You're the only one who can help me. The rest will not be able to go against reality. While."
  Nihlus stared intently into my eyes, thinking about something. I just sat there and waited for his decision. Did you believe it or not? If he believes it, it's wonderful. If not..."
  "What do we have to do?" A quiet rumbling voice put an end to my doubts. I breathed a sigh of relief. I believed it! Emotions don't lie. Determination, excitement, burning curiosity... Nihlus is ready to embark on a new mission, perhaps the most consistent with the essence of the SPECTR - the protection of the Galaxy. This is a challenge to his skill, his knowledge and experience. The most global assignment he can find. The tip of the blow and the center of the storm. He's doubtful, I can feel it, but he's willing to take the risk, because if I'm not lying...
  "A lot of things. And there's only a year left."
  "Why?"
  "Because I'm going to die in a year."
  Nihlus choked on air and coughed.
  "What?!"
  "After we deal with Saren and the Lord, I will be sent on a mission where I will die. This is a key point that CANNOT be bypassed. But in two years, I will return to the world of the living again, when my dear superiors need a Hero to save the world from another Enemy." venomous sarcasm came out of his mouth by itself. "So they'll remember about me, take out my carcass frostbitten by the cosmic cold and burned by fire from the stash, carefully shake off the dust, resurrect and put the Hero back into action." I grinned into his bright green eyes. "The perspective is just great, right?"
  It must have been hard for this worthy representative of a warlike people to comprehend, because Nihlus looked at me in deep fucking shock.
   "You... Are you going to die?"
  "Of course not!" I snorted. "I'll use suspended animation. "This will allow me to hang out in space for as long as it takes. And it's not difficult to resuscitate: the body itself will begin to revive as soon as it gets into habitable conditions. I'm not going to burn up in the atmosphere."
  Nihlus slowly raised his hand, rubbed his comb in confusion, staring at me unblinkingly.
  "Can't we get in the way?"
  "If they don't remember about me before the Collectors attack, fly down and catch me." I shrugged, not seeing the problem. "I'll take the lighthouse."
  "You know. If I had any doubts at first... in your sanity... they are now..."
  "Are you stronger?" I asked ironically.
  "They're gone!" The Turian grinned, showing sharp teeth. "Do I understand correctly that you won't be making any major changes before THIS event?"
  I nodded.
  "And after that?"
  "and then YOU HAVE TO."
  "I agree." and a predatory fanged smile.
  A boulder the size of a Citadel really fell from my soul.
  "Why did you believe it at all?"
  "You speak my native language." Nihlus informed me with a slight irony in his voice.
  I froze.
  "What?"
  "Everyone is so used to relying on the uni-tool and its translation abilities that they no longer pay attention to which language the other person is speaking." A hint of sarcasm flashed through the rumbling voice. "This is the first time I've heard you speak your native language on the Normandy since that strange seizure. Irene Shepard couldn't know our language. The human throat is not capable of reproducing it. The human ear cannot hear all the features of speech. And you spoke cleanly. It's so pure that at first I didn't understand what language you were speaking.
  "And now?"
  In response, a smile and a cheerful look.
  That's how you lose money on inconspicuous little things. Wearily rubbing the bridge of my nose, I asked:
  "Why didn't you say anything?"
  "I should have appreciated you. I appreciated it. What I saw is for me... liked." The Turian chuckled. "Unlike... The first one... What is the correct way to say it?"
  "Are you talking about my recipient?"
  "Yes. The real Irene Shepard... It didn't fit the requirements of the Special Corps very well."
  "I'm glad I didn't disappoint." My head was slowly turning leaden. "I'll sleep here for now. If they ask, you'll say it's information overload."
  "But really?"
  "A sensitive shock. The mentalist's abilities are activated, and the mind cannot cope with the information it receives. In fact, it's the same overload."
  I settled comfortably on the elastic cot and put my folded uniform jacket over my eyes.
  "When should you wake up?"
  Nihlus asked ironically.
  "Do not wake up, even if the "Norm" is boarded! It's an eight-day flight to Tau Artemis. I'll sleep for ten hours, maybe twelve. All this time will pass in flight via the repeater channel. If I twitch or grumble, don't pay attention. I still managed to hear a soft rumbling laugh as consciousness slowly faded. The sounds disappeared completely, and I was plunged into blessed Darkness. The activation of mentalism always occurs under conscious control. I have a lot of work and little time. And Gods forbid, someone interrupts me!
  Chapter 11: The Tau of Artemis: Therum
  Eight days later, the Normandy emerged from a jump over the plane of the ecliptic of Knossos near the repeater.
  The flight was uneventful, except for the constant clashes between Ashley and Garrus. To my deep annoyance, the ship's crew also joined in these skirmishes, quickly dividing into two camps: the former simply ignored the outsiders and did not get into conflicts, but the latter, with Ashley at their head, were unhappy with the presence of non-humans on board and demonstrated this in every possible way. But our small international team quickly rallied.
  Tali found a common language with Greg Adams, the chief engineer of Normandy. The engineer was filled with pure, uncluttered delight at the young Quarian's skills and knowledge. Professionally, the two worked well together, and Tali quickly gained credibility with the ship's technical staff. Rex didn't give a damn about people's troubles, and he spent most of his time sleeping in the cabin, ruining food supplies and refining the weapons I had given him. Garrus was more difficult. The Turian took the crew's attitude quite painfully and quickly closed himself off, preferring to spend time in the company of his kinsman in the infirmary. I also spent almost all my free time there, because I enjoyed talking with Naylus and Garrus, and I didn't see the faces of the crew. Fortunately, direct work could be done on an instrumentron anywhere. From time to time, Jeff would join us, leaving the ship for Kayden. Pressley watched all this with a degree of equanimity and displeasure, but did not say anything.
  Nihlus terrible wound was healing rapidly: I increased my energy output, since these days there were no stresses on the body. I slept, ate, and occasionally walked around the ship, and I gave all the excess energy to Nihlus. By the time he left the repeater channel, Spektr was already calmly getting up and moving around the ship, even though the loads were contraindicated to him.
  To my surprise, Naylus was able to find a common language with the scruffy pilot. To do this, it was necessary to praise his professional skills and thoughtfully talk about the topic of ships and the specifics of their piloting. Spectrum turned out to be a good pilot, and the Joker soon recognized this. The two spent the five-hour flight from the repeater to the Terminal very productively. True, their communication sometimes shook the ship, but no one was in a hurry to be indignant, and I wasn't going to. It's in my best interest if Jeff and Nihlus find a common language and become friends, which the demons are not joking about. They shared the duties of the navigator amicably among themselves, completely excommunicating Pressley from laying the ship's course. However, the XO didn't mind, even giving up some of the work with some relief. He had enough problems with the crew, which I safely unloaded on him.
  ***
  Half an hour before arriving at Terum, I gave the order to prepare for the landing, and our motley squad occupied the arsenal. I left a disgruntled and offended Ashley on board. Maybe her brain will turn on, otherwise she must have decided that I was joking about being excluded from the landing party.
  We'll be dropped onto the planet in a Mako that could hold six sentients. The team consisted of me, Garrus, Rex, Kayden and Tali. One place for Liara.
  "Rir, five minutes to reset!" Jeff's voice came through the headset. The rifle folded, coming out in a non-combat position.
  "Understood. Garrus, what's with the Mako?"
  "Ready."
  "Finish it. Rex, if you want to, take another cassette of grenades with you and stop hypnotizing them with your eyes!"
  The Krogan snorted, but Box scooped it up.
  We armed ourselves thoroughly, and carried even more into the conveyor. I warned you directly that there might be problems. We boarded a couple of minutes before the deadline, secured the boxes with grenades, panacelin and weapons, checked the armor and ammunition.
  "Joker, we're ready."
  "Okay, I'm dropping it! Hold on tight!"
  The Mako rocked and fell out of the Normandy's hold, falling like a stone to the ground. Kayden was driving. The brake engines roared, slowing down, we were shaken, hit, the car got on its wheels, the running engine rumbled. Garrus slipped to the gun turret.
  "All systems are working properly. We can go now." Alenko reported calmly.
  The Mako shuddered and rolled smoothly over the rocky surface of an almost dead world.
  ***
  Terum looked... strange. A heavy, gloomy sky covered with dense blue-steel clouds, heat, lifeless reddish rocks corroded by corrosion and time, dimly glowing lava lakes that give the planet the appearance of one of the branches of the Underworld, and the buildings of a processing plant towering on the horizon.
  "It's a nasty place." Tali whispered. "We would never colonize such a planet."
  The Mako crossed the ridge and rolled out onto the paved road. Jeff dropped us much closer to the factory, and we didn't have to go through the locked gates.
  "It was not colonized in the usual sense." Kayden replied calmly. Mining and processing plants are located here. And a lot of Prothean ruins. The Mako rolled easily along the road, dodging between protruding rocks here and there, while I sat on pins and needles. Will there be Gethas or not?
  Will be.
  Garrus screamed gutturally in the tower, and the turret came to life and slid away.
  "The Geth!" The Turian growled.
  There was a roar overhead, and rockets leapt from their pylons and raced toward the cars that were getting to their feet.
  "The Joker!"
  "Rene, what happened?"
  "The Geth! Their ship could be in orbit!"
  "Understood."
  The connection was interrupted. There was an explosion, the tank collapsed, and Alenko jerked the car away from the string of blue discharges.
  "Keep driving. But be careful. If there are these, then there are more." I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Saren is either on the planet now, or he was here."
  "Or he sent someone." Garrus finished the thought.
  The road for us sitting in the cabin was blurred into a kaleidoscope of gunshots, sudden jerks, unexpected braking and starting, Garrus' rasping curses and Kayden's curses. It wasn't difficult for a Turian to shoot Geth at long range, preventing them from even getting close to us, and Kayden did everything so that not a single shot hit us, so we got to the factory without any problems.
  We found the entrance to the Prothean ruins based on pure intuition and my memory: it was located near a small processing plant consisting of three huge tanks with small scaffolding and a control room on struts, and it was no different from the many mines scattered around. Tellingly, there was no blockage preventing the armored car from passing.
  Nevertheless, the station was working, the road to it was used by much more massive vehicles than our six-seater Mako, and was kept in order.
  The Mako braked at a bend in the road. Kayden looked skeptically at the high tanks of the station, shifting his gaze to the map and back to the screen.
  "Spectr, take a look. Could this be it?"
  I checked the map and looked at the screen.
  "Are there any other such stations near the entrance to the mine?"
  "I don't see it in the neighborhood. There are bigger ones. There is a factory with three exits nearby."
  "The factory is not suitable. Come on, little by little. If there are Gethas, then we guessed right."
  The Geth were! As we pulled up to the station, Garrus noticed the geth ghost curled up on the strut, but he was a little late: the creature darted up somewhere, and heavy bullets knocked out sparks in the metal.
  The Geth ambush collapsed under the roar of turrets and rocket explosions. Garrus had a good time, literally mowing down the unexpected synthetics. The tank rising from the landing position was shot and blown up before it could become a real threat. The last to kill were the nimble Geth ghosts. These creatures were too nimble and agile. And finally, Garrus' voice said:
  "Clear!"
  We're going out. Alenko, drive the Mako away. Terum greeted us affectionately with a powerful heat stroke, the smell of scorched flesh and the heat of a red-hot stone. Open lava bubbled near the station, stinking unbearably of chemicals and spewing a column of thick black smoke into the gloomy skies. A cargo truck was burning down near the rocks, half drowned in lava, gaping holes from missile hits.
  While Kayden drove the vehicles to the sheer cliff, we quickly checked the station, but found only the charred corpses of the workers. Three nascent Huskies were blown up with a grenade launcher along with the stakes they were hanging from.
  Alenko came up and took a pistol from his belt.
  "Don't go ahead." I said. "If I find out that I've used an implant above the standard value, I'll send Karin to the infirmary for a decade. Your task is to put barriers on the group."
  Alenko nodded slightly.
  The entrance to the shaft was blocked by a massive locked round hatch. Tali darted to the terminal, the twilight was dispersed by the golden light of the instrumentation, and the door squeaked open, letting us into an inclined tunnel punched into the rocky soil of the planet. Powerful cables stretched to the left and right, and every ten meters there were massive arc-shaped supports with long lamps illuminating the tunnel going into the depths.
  Rex came down first with a shotgun, followed by me and Kayden. A little behind - Garrus with a "Harpoon" in his hands and a hoist. The Turian periodically scanned the tunnel with optics, and it was he who first noticed the Geth.
  A sniper rifle rumbled loudly, a reload squeak, a shot. Somewhere in the distance, something sparkled. A couple of seconds to cool the weapon, and again - a booming shot.
  "Clear."
  Rex just spat.
  "Vakarian! You robbed me of fights at the Citadel, and now you won't let me do it here?"
  A low rumbling chuckle.
  "I'm not going to confiscate your guns this time, Rex."
  The Krogan shook his head and growled an unintelligible expletive to the cheerful laughter of the former Citadel Security Officer. Garrus enjoyed our mission in a special way. His blue eyes sparkled with excitement, his movements were precise and economical, full of predatory grace and plasticity, there was none of the uncertainty and hopelessness that followed the Turian on the Citadel. It wasn't Garrus Vakarian who was with us now, but the one who would eventually be called the Archangel.
  A rifle roared loudly: the geth in red armor jerked, hit the railing and flew down somewhere. The soft hiss of a cooling weapon, a barely audible satisfied rumble, and again:
  "Clear."
  Rex spat on the floor.
  "Don't freak out, you'll have another chance to unwind." I tapped the disgruntled Krogan lightly on the shoulder. "There are many more Geth! Don't stop Garrus from having fun."
  The Krogan grunted, gave the happy Turian an appraising look, and nodded slowly. The tunnel ended in a wide metal platform, leading us into a long cave, the far side of which was invitingly shimmering with an azure force barrier. The fighters dispersed along the platform, Rex rushed to the stairs: a shotgun rattled, a thin squeak of geth, a shot and a satisfied:
  "Clear!"
  Somewhere under the ramp that descended to a wide platform, three flights of red light flashed. Garrus jerked his rifle up, peering into the tangle of metal.
  "Geth is downstairs." the Turian dropped to one knee, bent over, almost leaning over the edge of the ramp, barked loudly "Harpoon", and the reddish light disappeared. "I'm ready."
  "Rex, Kayden, check the flight."
  Garrus shifted slightly, so that he could see the curves of the ramp and the platforms leading to the ruins. Tali, clutching a heavy pistol tightly in her hands, walked a little behind, as the least protected member of our squad.
  Before landing, we had to win a whole battle with this lovely girl, until we convinced her that her place was behind our backs near Garrus. We agreed that she is our technician, and her task is to clear the way from tightly locked doors, break into computers and locks on boxes with enemy weapons. Well, at the same time, to cover our sniper's back in the unlikely event that some enemy passes by us and the shooter himself. Garrus, armed to the crest, almost laughed then, despite all his tact, but, thank all the gods of this reality, he restrained himself. So now the Quarian was not trying to look for adventures on her ass and obediently sat behind Vakarian's broad back.
  A long, winding ramp led us to an elevator shaft and a wide platform abutting against the blue film of a protective field that blocked the entrance to the Prothean structure. I couldn't bring myself to call an absolutely whole and fully functional tower ruins!
  "Tali, check the elevator."
  The Quarian quickly jumped off the platform and flew to the console. Garrus vaulted over the railing and ran lightly along the supports of the ramp to the cliff, gazing intently into the abyss gaping under our feet. The cave was VERY deep. By eye, it's a hundred meters, and maybe even deeper, as far as I could see by leaning over the railing. Kayden gurgled a muffled curse next to me, and I was pulled back in.
  "Garrus, is there something?"
  In response, a shake of the head.
  "Too deep. I saw some movement, but I couldn't see it for sure."
  The Turian folded the Harpoon and returned to us. Tali hacked the elevator's control panel, and the screen door obediently swung open.
  The elevator took us deeper and deeper. Four-meter-high and seven-meter-long oval window sections swept by. Seven, eight, nine floors, by eye - seven or eight meters each. Some of the "windows" were blocked by an azure barrier, and some were not. The doors swung open, letting us out onto the same ramp as seventy meters above, but the ground was still not visible. A little further on, near the wall of the tower, another elevator was flashing invitingly at us with a red light on the console.
  The ringing silence of the cave was broken only by our breathing and the barely audible hum of the protective barrier. For a moment, I thought I heard a soft whistle. She glanced at the tense Turian, caught his worried gaze, and touched her ear with her finger. In response, there was a short nod and the rustle of a rifle coming into firing position. So it wasn't my imagination. Rex picked up the shotgun and walked slowly forward, pointing the muzzle. Garrus knelt down, resting the barrel of the Harpoon on the edge of the metal shield, Tali crouched next to him, completely hiding behind dubious protection, Kayden was enveloped in a barely noticeable azure haze. I took off the Harpoon owl.
  The whistling increased. Garrus raised his hand, swung his fist, thumb and forefinger sticking out: drones. Kayden and I crouched behind a metal shield a little to one side. Rex slowly moved forward.
  Drones popped up from somewhere below: three assault types, more powerful and heavier than the ones that killed Jenkins on Eden Prime. The Krogan raised his shotgun, firing almost point blank into the massive flying Geth machine. The drone spilled onto the ramp and lay still. Garrus's rifle roared loudly from behind, and I caught a third drone in my sights, a shot just below the glowing flashlight on my cap. The car jerked, sparked, and toppled over on its side. The shotgun blast merged with the hum of Garrus' Harpoon, and the drones rained down on the dais.
  The silence was deafening. We were in no hurry to leave the shelters. Wrapped in shields, Rex slowly walked around the ramps, but found no one and nothing.
  "Clear."
  While Tali was breaking down the elevator, Garrus peered through the powerful optics of the rifle into the darkness, but he couldn't see anything clearly. It seemed like there was nothing alive in this place except us, even though I knew it was a deceptive feeling.
  "Ready!" Tali's pleased voice and the rustle of doors.
  The elevator closed its doors and rolled down. The blue sections flashed one after another. Three, four, five, six, seven... when Garrus's warning cry coincided with the sound of gunfire: a Geth drone emerged from behind a support and opened fire. This brute did not hit us, having made holes in the elevator door, but damaged the mechanism, and the metal box rushed down with a bang and a creak! Tali screamed, clutched the handrail, Garrus calmly raised his rifle and shot the drone in three shots, swearing hollowly because of the miss.
  The elevator clanged and rumbled through the last floor and crashed onto the swaying ramp. It shook well! Rex only swayed, holding the biotic that had fallen on him, Garrus easily jumped to his feet, picked up the fallen "Harpoon", carefully examining the weapon, Tali detached herself from the handrail, and I sat on my butt on the floor, tightly hugging the sniper rifle.
  Is everyone okay?
  "They're safe." Rex answered me, kicking out the warped door with one powerful kick. "Damn the drone! How are we going to get out of here?"
  "On the supports." the Turian calmly reported, examining the spacious cave through optics. "It looks clean."
  Indeed, the elevator shaft supports are a double I-beam with small square holes, using which it is quite convenient to climb up. Rex wasn't happy about the prospect.
  "I'm not a lizard, I used to climb the beams!"
  Garrus grinned and grabbed the rifle.
  "If you have to, you'll climb!"
  "Don't push yourself, Vakarian! This is not a Citadel, and you are not a security officer!"
  Garrus just grinned, twitching his mandibles maliciously. Rex spat.
  ***
  The collapsed elevator lowered us to the very bottom of the cave. The base of the tower was not visible, which means that there are more floors somewhere under the stone and caked soil. A little further on, a small mobile mining laser stood on supports, which the archaeologists used to clear the tower, followed by three tents and some construction debris piled against the wall. There were no Geth in sight, but they should be.
  "You are welcome! Is anyone there? Help!" A loud, plaintive, desperate, and hopeless female voice rang out completely unexpectedly! Rex spun around, Garrus raised his rifle, and Tali ducked under the protection of the sagging pillars. Kayden looked at me questioningly. And I, lowering my rifle, ran down the ramp and stopped in front of the shimmering blue film of the barrier, behind which a helpless Asari hung in an azure bubble. Dr. Liara T"Sony. We made it in time.
  "Can you hear me?"
  The cute Asari stared intently at our faces, glancing from me to the Krogan, then to the Turian and the Quarian. She hadn't seen Kayden. The gray-blue eyes widened in surprise when Liara appreciated this... a multi-racial group.
  "We can hear you." I replied calmly. Rex turned his back to the Asari, gazing intently into the gloom of the cave, Garrus stood in a half-turn, holding a Harpoon ready for battle. Tali stared with open interest at the console with glowing green and golden Prothean symbols, and did not pay attention to the Asari at all.
  "Who are you?"
  The girl blinked in surprise at my question, but answered:
  "I am Dr. Liara T"Sony. I am the head of the archaeological team that excavated these ruins."
  "And, in my opinion, they are completely intact." Tali noticed, touching the buzzing barrier with her finger.
  Liara was embarrassed, blushing a little.
  "Yes, this tower has been preserved surprisingly well. All the equipment is working."
  "How did you end up in this bubble?"
  "I've been researching ru... the tower, when the Geth appeared. They attacked my people and killed them! And I hid here!" The girl's voice faltered. "Can you believe it?! The Geth are here! Beyond the Veil!"
  "It's hard not to believe when a geth is trying to shoot you." I replied ironically. "Go on, Dr. Liara."
  "I've activated the tower's defenses. The defense is powerful, and I knew it would hold them back."
  "Apparently, you clicked something wrong somewhere, and the security system caught you as an intruder." I chuckled, peering at the golden symbols. The missing linguistic barrier also worked for writing, though not always. I could read the Prothean symbols, although some of their meanings left me in a stupor.
  "You... Can you read these signs?"
  "Somehow."
  "Oh! This is..." Liara's voice trailed off.
  "Do I understand correctly that the field does not allow you to move and fixes you to the tips of your fingers?"
  "Yes! I can't move! Help me get out of here!"
  "Do you have any ideas how to help you?"
  "There is a control panel here." The Asari squinted at the terminal. "She should turn off the device. But you need to get around the barrier somehow." Liara smiled guiltily. "That's the whole problem. It's impossible to disable the protection from the outside, but I do not know how to get in here. Be careful. There was a Krogan with the Geth. They tried to crack the barrier, but they failed! They're still here somewhere!"
  "I got it" I turned to the team. "Any ideas?"
  Garrus stared intently at my face and chuckled strangely.
  "I understand you have an idea, Rir, but you don't like it."
  "You won't like it either." I pointed at the open "window" two floors above.
  "Oh!" the Turian froze in a couple of seconds.
  If we don't find an alternative, I will. And you'll back me up. I suspect that our brave fighters will not be driven to the top. Kayden shyly averted his eyes, and Rex grumbled, but none of them protested. Why be outraged if both are afraid of heights?
  "Can we get down?"
  "I have a cable." I patted the carbine. "I felt like I needed to. Let's go see if the mining laser is working first. The tower goes deeper by several more floors, and it is quite possible that the lower one is not covered by protection." I turned my gaze to the Asari, who was listening intently to us. "Dr. Liara, wait."
  The Asari just blinked. The bubble wouldn't let her even jerk her head. The Protheans are paranoid!
  A short tour of the cave gave Rex an opportunity to let off some steam: two Geth stormtroopers were crowding around the tents, and the Krogan missed. Garrus graciously allowed Rex to kill one of the enemies and brazenly shot the second one as soon as the Krogan knocked down his shields. Rex's screams echoed through the cave.
  "Garrus, you're going to jump." I barely whispered. "Rex's going to punch your face in one day for shooting you like that."
  The Turian waved lazily, watching the Krogan through the Harpoon's optics.
  "He caused me a lot of problems on the Citadel." The purring voice sounded ironic. "Can I get on his nerves now?"
  "See for yourself. They'll punch your face in."
  In response, a quiet, rumbling chuckle from a contented Turian.
  "Who will give it to him."
  "Clear!" The Krogan's angry growl interrupted the conversation.
  We didn't find anything interesting in the cave, moreover, the control terminal of the mobile drilling laser was damaged by some kind of stray shot! Tali, after examining the device, just spread her hands helplessly. In all its glory, we faced an option we didn't like.
  ***
  Kayden had been trying to talk us out of an extreme way of entering the tower for about five minutes, but neither Garrus nor I reacted to him. After some debate, we chose a way to climb: along a leaning beam that ran almost directly to the "window", and we only had to jump a couple of meters. Quite a normal distance. We were traveling light and had only pistols left of our weapons: you never know who we would meet there.
  We got through the collapsed elevator with Rex's help, and then we got through ourselves. It wasn't difficult to climb, and after a couple of minutes I stopped, hanging from a beam two meters above the coveted floor. Garrus stopped just below me.
  I was the only one with a rope and a carbine, but there was nowhere to catch on the beam, just to wrap it, but we would need a rope to get down to the right level, so if I somehow fell off, the Turian would serve as insurance for me.
  Securing the carbine around his waist, Garrus wrapped the cable around his arm, tightly wrapping his armored fingers around a thin metal thread, barely three millimeters in diameter.
  "Ready."
  Pushing off abruptly, I flew over the opening and tumbled down the hard blue cells covering the floor of the "windows" section.
  "There is! Now you."
  A few moments later, Garrus easily crossed the distance between the beam and the tower. Now comes the most interesting part. There is nowhere to gain a foothold in the section: the floor is smooth, no protrusions, the edges are rounded. If Garrus slips, we will both fly to the darkening floor at a depth of six tiers, which is at least forty meters. No armor can save me!
  While I was looking at the abyss, Garrus chose a place he liked with something, checked the fastenings of the cable and nodded to me, informing me that he was ready. Gripping the rope tightly in my fist, I kicked off the edge and jumped down.
  The "window" flew by quickly, and I braced my feet against the span between the floors, gripping the cable with both hands and dampening the speed of the fall. If I hadn't been wearing armored gloves, I would have lost my fingers, at least. Push off, loosen your grip, passing the cable between your fingers, fly through the "window", clench your fist, slow down, push off and swing into the right section to Liara.
  "I'm on the spot."
  A cable snapped from above, falling into the darkness as Garrus unfastened his carbine. The winch started working, winding it on a spool. Going to the terminal, I looked with interest at the funny hieroglyphs of the Prothean script.
  "Liara, where should I click?"
  "There's that golden symbol near the circle." Asari immediately replied.
  I touched the sign, and the blue barrier disappeared. An emerald "intruder" symbol flickered nearby, and I gently touched it with my finger. Tali, Kayden, and Rex entered the section. The azure bubble disappeared with a soft pop, and the long-suffering Liara collapsed to the floor. Kayden reached out and helped the doctor stand on shaky legs.
  "Thanks!"
  "Garrus?"
  "I hear."
  "There's a kind of elevator here. I don't know how he drives there or on which floor he slows down, so be ready to jump on the platform."
  "Understood."
  Clicking on the appropriate symbols, I launched the elevator platform. There was a rustle somewhere below us, and a massive disk of dull silver metal froze in front of our floor, spreading out a bridge.
  Garrus, you'll have to jump three and a half meters from the edge of the window to the elevator.
  "Acceptable." a calm reply came.
  That's wonderful, otherwise I'll be driving this elevator up and down until I pick up my fighter. I wasn't going to leave Garrus. Since we climbed into the tower without vandalism using a laser, we were not in danger of collapse, and there was no need to get out at the speed of light.
  Once on the platform, we spread out across the disk, and Liara turned on the elevator. Contrary to my fears, the elevator was moving rather slowly, and Garrus had no difficulty jumping onto it. While we were climbing, the Turian managed to pick up his weapon, jealously examining the "Harpoon" under Rex's chuckles.
  The elevator crawled to the top and stopped, and a Krogan with four Geth appeared around the bend. We didn't start talking and immediately started fighting, until the enemy had time to recover from a sudden and warm welcome in the form of a grenade that flew under his feet. Tali instantly ran behind the elevator control terminal, Garrus raised his Harpoon and managed to put a heavy bullet in the head of a geth in black sniper armor, which tore off a friendly flashlight looking at us, before a startled unknown Krogan raised his weapon. The nimble Turian was already aiming at the red-armored geth rocket launcher when Rex's shotgun rattled, and my shot flew into the stormtrooper. The Geth was hiding behind a hexagonal shield, but immediately received a combined hit from two biotics and sprawled across the floor in a limp pile of scrap.
  Rex enthusiastically punched his kinsman in the face, tearing out his weapon along with his arm. We've been watching this: Garrus was interested, Kayden and Tali were shocked, Liara just blinked, not understanding why I wouldn't stop the mayhem. But why? Let Rex relax, let off steam.
  "Who sent you, you belch of a wastrel?"
  A powerful blow to the face, the Krogan wheezed.
  "Saren."
  "What for? What do you want in this tower?"
  "Her!"
  We turned around. The Krogan's hand was pointing at Liara, who was standing in confusion near the terminal.
  "Alive or dead?"
  "Alive."
  "A gunshot rang out, and the unknown Krogan went limp. Let's go." I touched the transmitter, calling the ship. "Shepard calls Normandy."
  "Nihlus is on the line." A rumbling voice answered me.
  "We're done here. Get us out of here."
  "We'll be right there!" Jeff replied.
  The connection is gone. Rex spat.
  "It's a deal after all." The Krogan kicked his kinsman's body in disdain.
  "Get me out of here already." This place sends a chill down my neck. We got out without any problems and global destruction: the Protean tower remained completely intact, waiting for its researchers. The mission has been completed successfully. The ruins are preserved. The Council has nothing to reproach us with.
  An elegant silhouette appeared in the sky: the ship, having turned around famously, landed on the road just below the processing station. Kayden brought the Mako into the hold, and we boarded under our own power. I took one last look at the acrid smoke-filled hell of Terum. It is unlikely that I will ever return to this planet. The ramp rose. The floor vibrated: the Normandy pierced the atmosphere and left the Room.
  "Where are we going, Rir?" Jeff's cheerful voice brought an involuntary smile.
  "We're going to the Citadel."
  Chapter 12: Ideas and Suggestions
  After returning from the Terum, I gave the members of the disembarkation group the opportunity to rest, tidy up, eat, and only then gather in the briefing room to discuss the current situation, since an hour or two did not matter.: We have the same eight-day flight to the Citadel. However, Rex fell asleep safely. The Krogan didn't care what we were doing, where we were going, who we were hunting. The important fact is that our lives are full of events, and our ship is in the center of a hurricane. That's what he told me before he closed the door and went to sleep.
  Karin released Liara from the infirmary, pumping medicines up to her eyebrows with instructions to be in a bed and sleep in an hour. As it turned out, the young Asari stayed in that bubble for almost three days and managed to fall into despondency and despair. Our appearance for the girl was something like a miracle, which she had already stopped hoping for.
  Slowly, the two Turians, Tali, Kayden, and a dejected Ashley gathered in the hall. Jeff was listening with interest from the control room, but only Nihlus and I knew about it. When Liara arrived, the people stopped chatting and pretended to be attentive.
  "Dr. Liara." I motioned for Asari to sit down. "How are you feeling?"
  "Thanks to you, it's pretty good." The girl smiled a little shyly. "I'm sorry, but I do not know your names."
  "Yes, it was rude. My name is Irene Shepard." I introduced myself, and then pointed to the Spectre sitting next to me. "Nihlus Kraik. You've already seen the rest: Garrus Vakarian, Tali"Zora nar Raya, Kayden Alenko, Ashley Williams and Krogan, who is now brazenly sleeping - Rex Urdnot. We are on board the frigate Normandy."
  "Are you the military of the Alliance?" Asari asked doubtfully, looking at our extremely colorful team.
  "Just Kayden and Ashley." Who is the commander of the ship?
  "I."
  "Liara nodded slowly."
  "I'm sorry, I don't have much experience with your race. I am grateful to you. You saved my life."
  "What does Saren want from you?" Nihlus asked.
  "I do not know what the Council's Spectr required of me." The girl said, confused.
  "Saren lost its Spectr status." Kayden said dryly.
  "Oh... I didn't know. I've been excavating for over a year now and I've barely kept in touch with the Citadel. The news has been going on for a long time."
  "Have you heard something about the Channel?" I asked.
  "Only that he has something to do with the disappearance of the Protheans." The Asari spread her arms. "This is the area of my research. For the last fifty years, I have been searching for the causes of their disappearance."
  Kayden and Ashley's faces fell. The Turians reacted calmly: they knew perfectly well that the Asari were a long-lived race.
  "What is your age?" Alenko asked quietly.
  I grimaced. Question... not too tactful. But Liara was understanding and, with a slightly embarrassed smile, replied:
  "I don't like to talk about it, but I'm only one hundred and six years old."
  "Everything?" Ashley's world seems to have fallen apart.
  "For a species as short-lived as yours, a hundred years may seem like a long time, but by Asari standards, I'm considered barely out of childhood." Liara explained. "That's why my research has not received much attention. Other Asari scholars usually dismiss my theories because I'm too young."
  A spark of anger flashed in Liara's voice. This attitude hurt her, but she couldn't do anything about public opinion and prejudice.
  "I have my own theory about why the Protheans disappeared."
  "With all due respect, Captain, I'm aware of all the theories that exist." Nihlus chuckled slightly at this categorical statement, but said nothing.
  "The problem is finding evidence. The Protheans left very little behind. As if someone didn't want the mystery to be solved! It's like someone went through the Galaxy after the extinction of the Protheans and destroyed all the evidence!"
  Nielus and I exchanged glances, which was not lost on Liara's wary gaze.
  "Go on, Liara."
  But here's what's amazing. According to my findings, the Protheans were not the first race in the Galaxy to mysteriously disappear at the peak of their development. This cycle started long before them!
  Nihlus looked at me questioningly. I nodded. Liara is absolutely right.
  "How did you come to such conclusions?" Nihlus hoarse voice sounded unexpectedly loud in the silence of the hall. "Is there any evidence?"
  "I've worked for fifty years!" I examined every grain. "Eventually, a subtle connection began to appear. A faint hint of the truth." Liara clenched her fists. "It's hard to explain. I can't provide any concrete evidence. It's more like a feeling generated by more than half a century of painstaking work. But I know I'm right! And sooner or later I will be able to prove it! There were other civilizations before the Protheans. The cycle has been repeated many times!
  If the Protheans weren't the first, then who was before them?
  "Kayden asked." I don't know. There is almost no information about even the proteans, and even less about their predecessors! I can't substantiate my theory, but I know I'm right!"
  Nihlus listened with interest, staring intently at the nervous Asari. She sensed in her gut that this Turian had come here for a reason. He has the right. But she didn't know who he was. Liara did not recognize the Spectrum in Naylus, and we were in no hurry to enlighten her.
  "The galaxy lives in a cycle of annihilation. Every time a great civilization arises, it is suddenly and brutally destroyed! Only ruins remain!" Liara threw up her hands. The Protheans created a great empire, but even they were climbing over the remains of their predecessors! Their greatest achievements - the Citadel and the repeaters-were built using the technology of those who came before them! And then they disappeared, just like other civilizations before them! I've dedicated my life to finding out the reason for this."
  Nihlus leaned back in his chair, wincing painfully. I looked with interest at Liara's soulful face, wondering if I should tell her the truth. Sooner or later she'll find out. Does it make sense to remain silent? She met the gaze of bright green eyes. A slow nod, a slight smile. And really, why not?
  "What if I tell you that you're right about something?" I asked calmly.
  Liara blinked in surprise.
  "In something?" The Protheans really aren't the first civilization to be destroyed. "And not the last one."
  "I'm sorry, what?"
  "We're next." I watched with interest how the expressions on the faces of the reasonable people sitting in the hall changed. "And we have already achieved enough greatness, but we have not yet crossed the line beyond which we become dangerous."
  "Are you sure?"
  "Not so long ago, I had the pleasure of meeting with the efficient information buoy protean. You call it the Lighthouse. And I still enjoy the exquisite nightmares-visions that show in detail exactly how the Protean was put under the knife."
  "It is quite possible. The beacons were designed to transmit information directly into the user's mind." Liara jumped to her feet, excitedly pacing the center of the hall. "It is extremely rare to find a working lighthouse!"
  "Oh, this one worked." But the beacons were designed to interact with the physiology of the Protheans. Your visions are probably blurred and fragmented."
  "This is not entirely true." Liara stopped abruptly.
  "The information has been processed and is more than clear." I chuckled. "The Protheans were destroyed by intelligent living machines. The reapers. Or Reapers, whichever way you like. They are the ones who observe the Cycles of Destruction, destroying the advanced races of the Galaxy over and over again. The name of this process is very revealing: Harvest."
  Liara froze, starting to pace the hall again.
  The citadel and the repeaters weren't built by the Protheans, you're right about that. And not even by their predecessors. I completely captured Liara's attention. Have you ever wondered why it was the repeaters and the Citadel that repeatedly experienced the actual genocide of the galaxy's most advanced races in one piece? Didn't the same Protheans resist? They resisted! And for a long time! At least a hundred years old. But! The galactic Star Wars didn't leave a scratch on the Citadel and the repeaters. Strange, don't you think? And no need for fairy tales about a particularly durable case. You can ruin EVERYTHING.
  "Indeed, such thoughts have visited me." Liara admitted. "But I didn't find any other answer, except as a special durable alloy."
  "The answer is as simple as a ruler. The citadel was built by the Reapers. Millions of years ago. Repeaters are a trap. The Reapers are repeatedly rebuilding the station and building mass repeaters in systems with undeveloped civilizations, so that the next generation is guaranteed to receive new toys BEFORE they can create their own unique way of interstellar travel. We also found them, and without realizing it, we got into a carefully dug development rut.
  "Why are you sure that we will be destroyed too?"
  "Why shouldn't they? How do we differ from the same protean or inusannon?"
  "Inusannon? Who is it?"
  "The progenitors of the Protheans. Anticipating your question, I only know the name and have seen the stone statue a couple of times. If you want, I can draw it for you."
  "I would appreciate it. What can you tell us about them?"
  "There is nothing really about Inusannon in the lighthouse: the name, the vision of the statue in the jungle, and the information that they were killed seventy thousand years before the Protheans. An example of repeating the Harvest Cycle."
  "There is a logic to this. But... Do you have any proof?"
  "Besides the Reaper that flew off Eden Prime before our eyes? No."
  Liara stopped abruptly, as if she had crashed into an invisible wall, and now stood silently gasping for air. Kayden and Ashley exchanged glances.
  "I'm sorry... WHAT?"
  "Before our eyes, a Reaper flew away from the Eden Prime spaceport."
  Raising my head to the ceiling, I said quite loudly:
  "Jeff, give me the picture from my camera on the terminal."
  "Just a moment, Captain."
  The holographic screen unfolded. We stared at the static for about twenty seconds while the Joker searched for the right recording and displayed it on the screen, and then he appeared in all his glory: The Lord of Nazara, starting in an extravaganza of red lightning with a roar and disappearing into the bloody sunset sky.
  "This is the Reaper."
  "But if the Reaper is already here..." Liara waved her hand vaguely. "Then why didn't he attack?"
  "I suspect that he has ALWAYS been here, watching over us and waiting for the hour when he should send a Call to his kin and begin the Harvest. A kind of overseer. His activity is more worrisome. And the fact that he was able to bend the Spectrum under himself, forcing him to look for a Channel for him. Apparently, for some reason, the Reaper can't find it himself. Or the linings that got loose."
  "Do you think the Channel is on the Citadel?" Nihlus asked, earning a suspicious look from Liara.
  "Most likely, yes. But the importance of the Citadel lies elsewhere."
  "In what?"
  "But that remains to be seen. We will return to the Citadel in eight days. In the meantime, rest. Tali, take Dr. Liara to your cabin."
  The Quarian nodded in agreement.
  "Rene, we need to talk." Nihlus stood up, gesturing for her to follow him.
  I nodded and followed my colleague out. As the door was closing, I heard Liara's question:
  "Excuse me, but who is Naylus Kraik?"
  And Ashley's response:
  "The spectrum."
  Under Liara's soft yelp, the door slammed shut, cutting off all sounds. Nihlus snorted.
  ***
  Entering his cabin, the Turian waited until the doors slammed shut and activated the pyramid of a funny device that cut off any opportunity to eavesdrop or spy on what was happening in the coverage area. Jeff's curiosity is already well known to him, as well as his capabilities.
  "What happened?"
  "You tell me." Nihlus carefully sat up, growling involuntarily at the sharp pain.
  "Does the wound hurt?"
  "I stirred it up a bit." Spektr leaned back in his chair.
  "You do realize that if I tell Dr. Karin about this, you won't leave the infirmary until you fully recover, right?" I asked with some kind of fanatical interest.
  "What about you?" Nihlus cocked his head questioningly.
  "Should I?"
  A quiet chuckle.
  "No."
  "I hope." A light golden glow passed over his hand. "No exercise is planned before the Citadel, so you will have an accelerated course of treatment."
  "What are the consequences?"
  "No."
  "For you." said the Turian.
  "Weakness and lethargy if I pump out a lot. If you overdo it, then..." I waved my hand vaguely.
  The green eyes narrowed.
  "You do understand that if I tell Dr. Karin about this..." Quoting me, Naylus murmured with a barely perceptible grin.
  "What about you?"
  "Should I?"
  It was surprisingly easy to communicate with Nihlus. Fortunately, at least the officialdom fell off him in a couple of days, and the Turian quickly switched to informal communication, throwing off the mask of the Spectr. There are no pitfalls, hidden meanings, piles of useless verbal lace hiding unsightly meanings. A clean and open conversation, honest words that do not need to be literally disassembled by sounds, trying to grasp the hidden meaning. A powerful mind did not require an explanation of the obvious, it was enough just to report the fact so that the green-eyed Turian himself would build the right chain of events and assess the prospects. He was not moved by my cynicism and a certain callousness that had developed over long lives and the contemplation of other people's deaths. I loved it. It's not so easy to find someone who takes your word for it, just because one day he decided to trust you. Or is this a feature of the Turians as a race? Who knows? The Turian was silent, watching me with barely noticeable interest. This is how a wildcat looks at the world around him: with calm curiosity, appreciating every little thing.
  "No, don't do that. I know my capabilities." Nihlus obediently leaned back in his chair, allowing me to come over and examine the wound. Blue blood appeared in patches on the elastic bandage, glistening slightly in the bright white light.
  "Apparently, you didn't wake her up a bit." Nihlus shrugged his shoulders.
  "When you know that you survived only by a miracle, you look at it calmly." The Turian twitched his mandibles slightly. "It's a strange feeling."
  "To know that you should be dead?"
  The Turian nodded. I took out a knife and easily tore open the bandages, exposing the wound that had begun to heal. She looked it... bad. The broken and twisted chitin on his chest, the swollen bluish edges of the wound, the bumps of the stitches, the purple-green bruises, the exposed muscles barely covered by the blue, cracked crust of dried blood stripped off along with the bandages. And this horror is all over my chest.
  My palm lit up with an uneven golden glow, thin streaks of light flowing from my fingers. Concentrated vital energy. I raised my hand, practically touching the oily, shiny fresh blood with my fingers, watching as strands of energy stretched out, pouring into the startled Turian.
  "Does it tickle?"
  "From the inside."
  "That's how it should be."
  The visual effect didn't appear immediately, but it did. The wound dried up, being tightened by the delicate skin, the outlines of new plates of chitin appeared. The blood had coagulated and was falling off in layers. The healing was rapid, and I felt my strength disappearing just as quickly. In my opinion, that's enough. The calm, slightly rumbling voice sounded unexpectedly harsh. I pulled my hand away and cut off the power supply.
  "And it's true. Three more times and you'll be completely healthy. We'll do it again in two days."
  Nihlus nodded and stood up slightly, leaning back against the back.
  "Rene, what do you know about the Channel?"
  "It's like a one-way backdoor to the Citadel. Access to the station is via a repeater created by the Protheans from the planet Ilos. The channel on the Citadel is a monument repeater in the Presidium."
  "Is he a worker?"
  "Quite. But I have no idea where it leads. But not on Ilos. Perhaps it has some other functions unknown to me, after all, it was built by the Reapers. And Saren is clearly looking for a reason. I do not believe that the Sovereing of Nazara began to suffer from sclerosis in his old age, and forgot where they built the Canal. Getting to the Citadel is not a problem for the Spectr. Apparently, they need a Channel on Ilos."
  "Where is this Ilos located?"
  "The Pangea Space system. It's a long way from here. You can get in through a special mu repeater, hanging out somewhere in the nebula in the Terminus Systems. But I don't know exactly where. There was some kind of murky story, which is why this repeater was torn from orbit and shifted somewhere.
  "And who knows?"
  "Rachni."
  "They're extinct."
  "Saren dug up the queen's egg somewhere. So they're already quite alive."
  "Where are they located?"
  "A novelty. We will go there as soon as the message about the problems in the colony arrives. If everything goes as it should, we'll meet Benezia there. Or we might not."
  "What about the other Reapers?"
  "They're hanging out somewhere in intergalactic space." I shrugged my shoulders.
  "What do they want from us anyway?"
  "Good question. All I know for sure is that the Reapers are made of organics. Of the races they destroyed. We are their building material."
  We were silent for a while. Nihlus was deep in thought about something, but I didn't bother him. The prospects looming brightly in the not-so-distant future frankly scared me. First, that swift death and getting caught by Cerberus. Yes, there is no getting around this fact... But you can turn around! Moreover, it seems that Liara will give them my carcass, hoping for resurrection. But what if...
  "You still haven't told me what the future holds for us." The Turian asked softly.
  Funny. It feels like he's reading my mind and putting questions into it.
  "In three words: Reaper, Collectors, Harvest."
  "Tell."
  Not an order. Request.
  "I told you about Sovereing Nazara. He's our supervisor. He must send a Call and activate the Citadel, summoning his kin to our part of the Galaxy. The Protheans did something to the Guardians, and now the Citadel won't respond to Nazara's orders, or the Harvest would have already begun. Apparently, when the station didn't respond, he was puzzled by the search for performers. And then Saren so successfully climbed on it, considering it to be just an artifact ship. For which he paid with freedom and sanity. You already know that.
  The Turian nodded.
  "Apparently, Saren is now trying to send a Call and deal with the breakdown of the Citadel by manually launching it into repeater mode. This feature is available from the station's command bridge. Why does he need a Channel? I don't know. In any case, we need to destroy the Sovereing, and it's not easy to do that. He will lay half the fleet, breaking through to the Citadel. By the way, the station will have to be closed, and the Sovereing will remain outside. If you don't slow down.
  The council should know.
  "And how will I tell them?" They won't believe me. But they'll believe me. Nihlus chuckled. "Sparatus will believe it. We can start preparing for war."
  "When we arrive at the Citadel, talk to the adviser. Maybe he'll let you blow up the Channel? Just in case."
  Nihlus chuckled.
  "Maybe. What will happen next?"
  "When we take down the Sovereing, the Alliance and the Council will pretend that the Reapers are my joke. So, the delirium of a brain inflamed by a Lighthouse. They'll declare him a superget and that's it."
  "It's a sound idea. It will prevent panic."
  "That's just it. But the problem is that they will believe it themselves."
  "I'll take care of convincing the Council. If they don't believe me, they won't believe anyone. Although I've never noticed such idiocy in Sparatus."
  "Do you know him?"
  "Yes."
  I stared into those mocking green eyes. THAT CAN'T BE RIGHT!
  Don't tell me Sparatus is your kinsman!
  "I won't tell. The Turian grinned, spreading his mandibles wide and grinning slightly maliciously."
  "He can't be so lucky!"
  "Sparatus is from a related clan." Nihlus shrugged his shoulders. "When I was able to become a Spectr, I was assigned to Saren, the best of the best, at Sparatus' request. A shadow crossed his face. "Saren..."
  "We will resolve the issue with Saren when we meet with him."
  Nielus nodded.
  "What's next? After the destruction of the Sovereing."
  "The Alliance's native authorities are sending me on a mission to check why the ships are disappearing. The Norma will be destroyed by the Collectors' cruiser, the crew will mostly escape in capsules, and I will be thrown overboard by the explosion. And I'm going to die."
  Nihlus shuddered.
  "It's possible... Change it?"
  "I don't know. I doubt. I'm not going to die anyway. I'll go into suspended animation. But the result of this mission will be that my body will end up in Cerberus, a terrorist inhuman organization, where my carcass will be stuffed with metal and suspicious implants, presented with Normandy number two and sent to heroic deeds.
  I winced at the prospect. That's what, but I would have done without Cerberus with pleasure.
  "What can be changed?"
  "First of all, I'm not going to fall under the Lazarus Project and allow suspicious stuff to be stuffed into my body. After a decade and a half, my soul will finally settle in, and I will regain my abilities to the fullest extent that this reality allows them. In any case, fine-grained controls are already available. And the mentalism will be in full force by the time you arrive at the Citadel. I can already initiate suspended animation. But I need a "cover" that will protect my defenseless body from the playful paws of maniacs from science."
  "What's it?"
  A protective property of the body. Something like a force field generated across the surface of a body. If I am fit at the time of initiation of suspended animation and protection, then I can maintain protection for ten years at full strength. Or two hundred years, if you turn on full power only when trying to cause damage.
  "Can I punch it?"
  "You can, of course. But as soon as I get into livable conditions, my body will automatically start to come out of suspended animation, and in two days I will, roughly speaking, revive. They won't have time to do anything in that time."
  "How will they get your body?"
  "Yes, there's some kind of story with a Gray Intermediary, Collectors and a Ghost. I don't remember exactly what happened."
  "Leave it unchanged?"
  I blinked, staring into the green eyes in surprise. I'm amazed at him sometimes! I'm telling you heresy by and large, but he believes me! And I am ready to help! Without a shadow of doubt or distrust.
  "Yes. But you need to choose the return time correctly. When the Collector's attacks on human colonies begin."
  "I'll make sure."
  "That's all. I'll make sure. And it's hard to believe that he'll really follow up and do the right thing. He won't let you down, he won't set you up."
  A mentalist has many advantages...
  "Do you know what Collectors are?"
  "Husky Protheans and other races from their "stream"."
  Nihlus shuddered. He rubbed his comb and sighed.
  "You know, sometimes your answers drive me... in a daze. I know. But I don't see the point in lying to you."
  The Spectrum chuckled.
  "What do they want?"
  "They're building their own Reaper. From the populations of the colonies. It will have to be filled up before it is finished. The creature is still the same. It is located at the base behind the Omega 4 repeater. There's a real graveyard of ships under the protection of combat drones, so it would be ideal to go with a well-armed squadron. But where can I get it?"
  "That's my problem. How many ships will be needed?"
  "I have no idea. But the problem of Collectors must be solved radically. By the way, Cerberus will claim the base, and I absolutely do not want to give it to them. It's better to let the Council or your Hierarchy fuck her. By the way, the remnants of the Lord should also be disassembled and put into action. The Reapers will arrive pretty quickly. A year and a half after my "resurrection". And that's where the full ass starts. The war of annihilation that we're in... We'll lose."
  "How do we lose?" Nihlus was taken aback.
  "And that's it. The end and salvation are very great... They are strange and do not inspire confidence. To save ourselves, we need to build a Forge and dock it in the Citadel. By the way, we will fly to get his drawings after we meet with Saren on Vermire. Or before him, let's see. Saren is not going anywhere. A bugle is a ship. Chaos alone knows who developed it. But then the strangest thing begins. A Catalyst is required to activate the Forge."
  "Do you know where he is?"
  I couldn't help but laugh nervously.
  "At the Citadel."
  Then what's the problem?
  "Now you will appreciate for yourself the depth and vastness of the ass we are in and the ephemerality of salvation."
  Hysterical laughter erupted by itself.
  "Rеnе!" the Turian growled.
  "Nihlus, The Catalyst Is An AI! He's the creator of the Reapers! He controls them! And he will also give access to the control room of the Forge! Do you understand the depth of the cynicism of the situation? It all depends on the decision of this fucking AI! Whether we live or not! If this trash won't let me into the control room, the Forge is a useless and expensive attachment to the Citadel!"
  Naylus sat in deep shock. An understanding of the horror of the situation appeared in his eyes and was replaced by a strange determination.
  What are the options?
  Salvation? According to this dirty trick, there are three: the first is to destroy the Reapers, the repeaters, the Citadel and all the synthetics of the Galaxy; the second is to take control and the third is the symbiosis of synthetics and organics into a new ideal form.
  I'm going to die anyway.
  Either I'll burn in a fire, or I'll be fried by lightning, and my personality will be digitized and a new Catalyst will be made, or decomposed into components and a mega-vaccine for the entire Galaxy will be made based on the genome. And all with the permission of the AI.
  "That's bullshit." The Turian muttered. "Has no one been able to build a Forge during other Cycles?"
  "That's it. They could. The Protheans definitely built it. But the result is zero. The catalyst slammed the Citadel into an armored bullet in their faces and waved goodbye! We need another option. Which guarantees, if not victory, then at least the survival of our species.
  "In such an attack, only evacuation can give a chance for the survival of the species." Nilus muttered.
  "It takes just a little bit - another way to conquer the interstellar expanses. Not repeaters, but something else."
  "Similar studies have been conducted for a long time. At least in the Hierarchy." Nihlus told me the good news. "But I do not know if there is a result. But I will find out."
  "Even if there is a ready-made prototype... we have three, four years at most for everything. You do realize that this is impossible, right?"
   Nihlus did not answer immediately.
  "I'll talk to the Council."
  "And what will you tell them?"
  "I'll find the words. But we need proof."
  "We need Saren and Nazara. Or rather, his data banks." I met the gaze of green eyes. "Do you have any ideas how we can hack into the Reaper's brain?"
  Nihlus choked on air and... thought about it.
  ***
  Eight days flashed by in the blink of an eye. The crew rested for the most part, having little contact with the ship's crew, I slept off and ate off, so that I could give everything I had accumulated to Nihlus during the treatment. On the second visit, Karin observed this case, but found this method of treatment, although extreme, to be quite effective. But the doctor watched my health closely, noting the incessant changes in my body and genome. I did not share her concern and enjoyed the small benefits of the metamorph with pleasure.
  Two days before I arrived at the Citadel, Ashley finally approached me. She's been watching our team all these days, but she hasn't said anything. The echoes of emotions gave hope that the girl would come to her senses or at least start thinking. And finally, Ashley decided to talk.
  I was sitting in the recreation area, sprawled like a lazy amoeba on a wide sofa and listening to music. I found old Miracle of sound recordings and got high. I immediately remembered my first world.
  Just an hour ago, I finished treating Nilus, and only ugly scars remained from the terrible wound. However, they can be reduced on the next visit, while they are still fresh and amenable to correction. A slight weakness set him up for a phlegmatic mood, there was a slight noise in his head, and his temples ached after restoring his shields. Just in time. I'll have time to rest up before arriving at the Citadel.
  There was a whiff of determination and apprehension from the doors, with a hint of desperation.
  I didn't even have to turn around to find out who it was.
  "Come on in, Ashley." The young woman shuddered, but silently came over and sat on the sofa opposite.
  "The Shepard Spectrum..."
  "Yes?" I sat up straight, took off the headphones from my head where the beautiful vocals sang Moon light blu - my favorite song in that life, pretending to be attentive.
  "Something happened?"
  "I... I was wrong in my statements about the soldiers from the landing group." Ashley clenched her fists and met my gaze squarely. "They... worthy ones..."
  "Reasonable. I prompted." How lovely... In this world, the rules of communication with mentalists are not even suspected! No one on Egros has ever looked someone like me in the eye. And here... It didn't even take an effort for me to slip into her mind.
  There are no shields. Even natural ones! Excuse me, how is this even possible? The mind always protects itself! Although... No, here they are. Almost transparent, melted. It's a strange sight, to be honest. Perhaps this is the reason why the locals are so easily suggestible? Who knows?
  "I'm glad you realized that."
  "Will you drop me off at the Citadel?" Ashley asked bluntly.
  "Is that what you want?" I raised an eyebrow lazily, slipping out of the fighter's mind.
  "No!"
  "Then why the question?"
  Ashley was taken aback.
  "But... I thought it was you... That I'm not right for you."
  "Ashley, you're a great fighter. I have no complaints about your professional training. But until you can adequately perceive the alien members of the squad, I will not be able to take you on combat missions. You know that perfectly well."
  "I... understand." brown eyes dropped guiltily, and the storm of emotions in the mental plane was simply amazing.
  "Your worldview has been shaped by the pressure of the recent war and the general xenophobia of the Alliance's military forces. Biotics also suffered a lot because of their differences. People tend to be afraid of the incomprehensible and alien, and sooner or later we begin to hate what we are afraid of."
  "I'm not afraid of aliens!" Ashley jumped up.
  "You're afraid and you don't understand. You don't want to understand. You look at the exterior when you need to look into the soul. Evaluate the personality. Talk to Tali. She's a sweet girl and a great technician. Adams can't get enough of her. But Tali is very vulnerable and completely dependent on her spacesuit. But that doesn't stop her from trying to establish a relationship with the team, and she's just thrilled with Normandy!
  Damn it! I didn't even need to make any special efforts to put an unobtrusive suggestion on an unprotected mind! The usual natural effects of mentalists or vampires, and that's it, say what you want and convince what you want! It's creepy!
  "And... the Turians?"
  It's generally easier for you to communicate with the Turians.
  "They are natural fighters. Warriors from generations of warriors. Garrus is a great marksman and tactician. Nihlus... Nihlus is one of the most famous Spectr. He has a lot to learn and a lot to learn. Even Rex admits that, even though the Krogan have a lot more accounts with the Turians than humans do. And nothing, he communicates." But you couldn't. "I shook my head. It's at times like this that I feel ashamed of our race. Perhaps the Council is right: people are not ready to join the galactic society. Moreover, they are not ready to join the Council."
  "But..."
  "Think about it. Where should we go with such a worldview into a long-established system? Become outcasts because of your own arrogance and overestimated sense of importance? Who needs us like that? Would you let people like us into your own state?"
  Ashley thought about it.
  And the longer she thought about it, the more confused and... sour her face became.
  "No. She wouldn't let me in." the woman confessed.
  "You see. Try to look at those non-humans who are currently on board the Normandy in a different way. Don't look at the differences. Look for similarities. Believe me, we're not as different as you might think."
  "What about Saren?"
  "What about Saren?"
  "He's a brutal killer!"
  "Just like me." Ashley's astonished face warmed my dark soul. "Saren is absolutely ruthless and doesn't value life. Neither his own nor someone else's. He would just as easily kill anyone or die himself if necessary."
  "He's a monster!"
  "I'm not arguing. But you know... Saren is the perfect weapon. Except this weapon fell into the wrong hands. And we need to get him back... or destroy it."
  "You sound like he's talking... deprived of freedom of choice. Will you have this choice if the command gives the order?"
  "But it's possible somehow..."
  "It depends on HOW they give you the order, Ashley." I sighed.
  "Depends on how... Reapers are almost impossible to resist. At least... The Protheans couldn't. These creatures have an experience that we can't even imagine. Hundreds of thousands of years! What are we to them? Not even children... Just funny, barely intelligent animals. It is not difficult for them to deceive the animal and make it obey. But sometimes the animal CAN kill the trainer."
  Ashley was stunned into silence. Apparently, she was trying to imagine Saren as an animal. I hope the proud Turian won't smash my head in for such a comparison later.
  "Go get some rest. And think about it. If you decide to stay... I'll give you a chance. If not..." I spread my hands. "I'll help you transfer to another Alliance ship."
  "I'll think. Thank you, Spectr." Ashley left, and I sprawled out on the couch again.
  The Normandy raced through the repeater channel to the Citadel under the supervision of the night watch. Very soon, events will start racing. In the meantime... For now, you can enjoy the peace and quiet. I turned on my favorite music again. It's been a long time since I've heard her.
  Chapter 13: Take a look for yourself, Counselor
  A mass repeater named Citadel greeted us with a long queue and a glowing urn of the "Path of Destiny" floating majestically nearby. The swearing of Jeff and the unidentified dispatcher was stopped by the phrase: "We have Spectr on board!" and we were finally given a flight corridor and a parking space.
  "Nihlus, you're a comfortable passenger!" Jeff grinned, steering the ship to the indicated mooring platform.
  The Turian chuckled.
  "The Spectr has its own privileges. Just like his ship."
  The Normandy shuddered all over as the grapples went off, locking the ship at the mooring area.
  "We have arrived." Jeff ran his fingers over the touchscreen keyboard, turning off the ship's engines. "Will I finish the tests, Rene?"
  "Do."
  "Are we staying at the Citadel for a long time?"
  "If there is no emergency, then for three days."
  "If it happens... You know that."
  Jeff nodded and plunged into his work. He loves this ship. Probably more than anyone else on board.
  Before I left for the Citadel, I talked to Pressley and we discussed the needs of the ship and its crew. The XO will make up a schedule for the departure of people himself, as well as a list of what we need to take on board before a long flight. While we are standing on the Citadel, the Norma will have time to undergo scheduled maintenance and minor repairs, load supplies, replenish arsenals, and generally purchase things that are so necessary for autonomous life in space. And Karin puzzled me with the lists of medicines that she would like to have, but she couldn't order without a lot of hassle. The list was especially long for dextroorganisms, for which medicines were almost completely absent in the infirmary, with the exception of the most popular ones. I promised to get what I needed, and at the same time I puzzled the XO by finding a normal cook and buying groceries, honestly warning him that if I found only rations in the canteen after the start from the Citadel, we would turn around and fly back, and Pressley would buy all the missing items from his pocket. I hope he's smart enough to buy supplies, considering we have a Quarian and two Turians on board. So far, these expenses are being paid by the Council and the obscure office to which the Normandy is assigned.
  Nihlus was waiting for me near the airlock, clad up to his neck in heavy black armor. However, without a helmet. The captures include full ammunition: sniper and assault rifles, a powerful pistol. Spektr didn't carry a shotgun. On his hip is a cassette of grenades. Next to the tall Turian, Liara, in a simple black suit, looked surprisingly fragile and small, barely reaching the top of her head to Nihlus shoulder. I was also wearing armor, but medium armor, and I was also armed up to my nostrils. My paranoia, lovingly nurtured over long and bloody lives, woke up, and I didn't want to leave the ship without weapons and armor, fortunately, the status of the Spectr allowed me to indulge in minor weaknesses.
  "I contacted consul Sparatus. He's waiting for us."
  "Already?"
  Nihlus shrugged his shoulders.
  "Yes."
  "I guess he'd rather see you alive and make sure I didn't lie to him."
  "Maybe." Nihlus grinned as he opened the airlock. "In any case, he'll listen to us."
  The massive slab of the lock shuddered, releasing us into the noise and din of the port part of the Citadel. Some kind of pot-bellied ship was unloading nearby, reasonable people were swearing and brawling, someone was in a hurry somewhere, and someone was suffering from boredom. The usual noise of mooring platforms. The C-sec staff approached us, seeing the sentients in full armor and with weapons, but Nihlus showed our identification cards, and the Turians intelligently left, allowing them to go to the elevator.
  "As I understand it, we are not going to the Council Chamber."
  "Sparatus will meet us in his private quarters. I warned him that there was important and not particularly pleasant information."
  "Have you prepared yourself mentally?" I smiled.
  Nihlus nodded, wincing slightly.
  The stupid music in the elevators after the silence of the ship was even more annoying than when I first visited the station. Or is it just nerves? Liara watched our conversation with interest... Perplexity. Nihlus behaved politely, coldly, and indifferently with other human, making an exception only for the Joker and me, and Liara still couldn't understand why the Council's Spectr was spending so much personal time communicating with the captain of the Alliance ship. The pretty asari was still in the dark about my Spectr status, and the fighters did not consider it necessary to enlighten the blue young lady.
  "By the way, where did Garrus go when the Norma slowed down?" I asked.
  "According to their informants." Nihlus replied. "He warned me that he would contact me in about four hours, no earlier."
  "I hope he remains available for communication?" The Turian nodded. Well, Garrus! The habits of the C-sec investigator seem to have been firmly ingrained in him.
  "On the other hand, he's doing great." He is looking for possible leads without reminders and kicks and, most importantly, is ready to share ALL available information. The elevator was crawling at the speed of a pre-infarction snail, freezing out with electronic boring music of shoddy quality. I could have muted my sensitivity, but Nihlus, with his keen hearing, was slowly going berserk, which made his green eyes even glow, in my opinion!
  "You know, I'll kill the Reapers just because of that music. I muttered, waving my hand vaguely towards the ceiling. And the speed of elevators." the Turian added, wincing painfully at the high note.
  Finally, the elevator crawled up and released us in the customs section of the C-sec. Nihlus immediately perked up and dragged us through the maze of corridors somewhere along the route he knew only. I didn't mind: my navigation skills at this station remained at the level of topographic cretinism, and Liara was in no hurry to object to the Spectr.
  They looked at Nihlus as if he had come from the other world, which made the usually calm man slowly turn venomous and angry. When one of the security guards said, "You're dead!", I couldn't stand it and laughed. The man who was typing in information about our arrival at the Citadel hunched his head at the angry low growl of the enraged Turian and tapped on the keyboard even harder. And now, finally:
  "Spectr Nihlus, Spectr Irene, Dr. Liara, welcome to the Citadel." The cards were returned to us and we were released. Naylus grabbed our identification cards, and a few minutes later we were sitting in the comfortable seats of an automatic taxi. The flyer was rushing somewhere under the strict guidance of a relaxed Turian, and Liara finally woke up from her stupor.
  "Irene's spectr?"
  "Yes."
  "But... Why didn't you tell me?"
  I shrugged my shoulders.
  "But why? Well, you found out that I am a Spectr. And what has it changed?"
  "This... It changes everything!" Liara, our tasks have not changed in any way.
  "Only you found out that you contacted not one Spectr, but two."
  "But..." Liara sighed. "Why did you take me with you to a meeting with Councilor Sparatus?"
  "Because you're an expert on proteans."
  "But there are others! Older, more experienced! I am..."
  "You're already here, and they're out there somewhere." Nihlus chuckled and nodded, and Liara fell silent in confusion, unable to find any arguments.
  We didn't fly for long, and soon the taxi landed smoothly on the dock somewhere in the elite part of the residential area. On the way, we were stopped several times by C-sec patrols, but as soon as we saw our status stamped on the identification card, they immediately let us through with apologies.
  Councilor Sparatus lived in a low-rise complex on the edge of a park area and a reservoir lake. They let us through quickly at the entrance to the building, and literally a couple of minutes later we were already sitting in upholstered chairs opposite Sparatus.
  Nihlus started the conversation, giving the nervous Liara a chance to come to her senses and gather her thoughts. While the Spectrum was introducing us to the unflappable advisor, I studied the man sitting in front of me.
  Sparatus was literally bubbling with emotions, although outwardly there was not a single sign of his condition: his body was relaxed, his gestures precise and confident, his eyes looked calm and dispassionate, and his face was a mask of polite attention. A true ruler and politician. Not the incredulous stubborn ram shown in the canon. So let's see if the real Sparatus can believe in the threat and take our warnings seriously.
  "Spectr Irene, Spectr Nihlus informs me that you have been able to systematize and understand the information from the Prothean beacon."
  "Yes, it is. Dr. Liara T"Sony explained that such "visions" after a collision with a functioning lighthouse are quite natural. Doctor?"
  "When in contact with an intelligent being, the Protean beacon transmits information directly to his brain." Liara's voice was trembling a little with excitement. But since the beacons are designed to interact with the physiology of the protheans, the visions are mostly haphazard and scattered. And for creatures with weak will and insufficient organization of consciousness, a lighthouse can burn out the brain. "The fact that Ayrin's Spectrum was able to systematize information and even gain knowledge of the Prothean language and writing is unique!"
  "Can you read the Prothean script?" Sparatus straightened up, a dangerous gleam of interest appearing in his eyes.
  "I can, but some symbols and phrases are meaningless. I suppose there are simply no analogues of these terms in our languages."
  Sparatus turned on his drone and displayed a short inscription made up of the already familiar funny symbols.
  "Can you read it?"
  I came closer and sat on the edge of the couch. She removed the block from her mental abilities and opened her Prothean memory, as she had done in the ruins on Terum. Report... The date is here: 16. 23. 34123, about conducting a technical study... perhaps there is no technical verification... the propulsion array of the ship "Radiance of Dawn", class... "I stumbled, peering at the symbols and trying to find a suitable definition, "The closest synonym is a destroyer cruiser or a liquidator. The owner is an Avatar of Justice or Retribution... Something like that. Both terms have this squiggle." I touched the stripe with the dash. "This is something like the designation of a capital letter in our language or a proper name. Everything."
  I returned to my seat, and Sparatus removed the inscription, staring at me intently.
  "Really. The translation is quite accurate. We need to involve you in decoding the recordings from the beacons. Tell us what else you learned from the lighthouse."
  "Before I tell you this, I would like you to watch the footage from my camera taken on Eden Prime. And they answered two questions."
  Sparatus nodded in agreement, gesturing for them to continue.
  "Did you know that Saren found a ship belonging to an unknown race?"
  "Yes."
  "Have you seen him?"
  "Personally, no. Only the image."
  "Good." I turned on the recording from the instrumenter. "Is that him?"
  On the small screen, the Lord of Nazara took off into the sunset sky over and over again. Every time a single shot was fired, Nihlus flinched.
  "Yes. It's him. But I had no idea that it was so huge!" Sparatus's gaze caught on Nihlus, who was startled by the shot. "What kind of shot is that?"
  "It was Saren who shot Niallus at point-blank range."
  Nihlus nodded silently. I stopped the video, showing Nazara in all his glory.
  "Why these questions?"
  "Did you ask me what I saw in the lighthouse? I saw the demise of the Prothean Empire, as I've already told you. A chronicle of almost a century of agony of a powerful civilization. I wish I could show it to you. But I can poison Councilor Tevos's sleep with nightmares if she wants to look at them.
  "I guess she won't refuse." Sparatus said slowly. "Go ahead."
  "The information from the buoy confirms Dr. Liara's research: our Galaxy exists in Cycles of destruction, the so-called Harvest. As soon as the organic civilization reaches a certain level of development, it is suddenly destroyed. That's what happened to the Protheans. The same fate awaits us."
  Sparatus shuddered.
  "Are you sure?"
  "I've seen Reapers land on burning planets. I've seen these creatures destroy fleets far more powerful than ours. I've seen the Citadel taken over and the repeater network shut down. And I'm absolutely sure that the same thing awaits us soon.
  "Soon?" Sparatus tilted his head questioningly. "What led you to this decision?"
  A Dominator-class reaper taking off from Eden Prime.
  "And I started recording again." I never even expected to see such amazement on Sparatus' face!
  "are YOU SURE?"
  "Get Councilor Tevos. Let him look at what the lighthouse showed in my memory. I'm sure she'll recognize this ship."
  "Nihlus?"
  "Counselor, this ship was on Eden Prime." Nihlus replied calmly. "Before Saren's shot, I felt a terrifying blow to my consciousness. That's why I couldn't dodge the shot. I couldn't control my body at all at that moment."
  "They can subjugate the mind. The chronicles of the Protheans confirm this. I believe Saren was affected by the Reaper when he first came aboard. Over time, the Sovereing finally subjugated the Spectr, and Saren completely lost his freedom of thought."
  Sparatus thought about it. We were silent, patiently waiting for the advisor's decision. I wonder what conclusions he will come to? Will he dismiss our words or not? The adviser touched the call button on the instrument panel, and we heard:
  "Councilor Tevos, could you come to my chambers? Spectr's Nihlus and Irene returned and brought information. I'd like you to check it out." pause. "Yes, she agrees. I'm waiting for you."
  We waited in silence for Advisor Azari's arrival. Sparatus was looking at Nazara's image, Nihlus was thinking hard about something, and Liara even seemed to be breathing every other time. Finally, Tevos arrived. The counselor entered the hall, nodding to her colleague and us, glancing attentively at the quite lively Nihlus, smiled at the terrified Liara.
  "Tevos, Irene's Spectr wants to show you the information from the lighthouse."
  Azari gracefully sat down on the couch next to Sparatus. Spektr, are you ready to go for a "merger"? I nodded silently.
  "Please sit closer." Sparatus stood up and moved aside, making room for me next to Tevos. I sat down, looking questioningly into the bright azure eyes.
  "Your hand." Taking off my gloves, I carefully placed my hands in the thin blue palms.
  "Look into my eyes."
  Our eyes met, and I saw the previously azure pupils slowly darken...
  The merger bore little resemblance to what was described in the game. There is no sexual connotation, everything is simple and at the same time unreasonably complicated: the direct connection of one nervous system to another. I felt Tevos's body as if it were my own, and I suspect she felt the same way about me.
  Well... There is a lot waiting for the adviser... It's interesting, though, I'm far from human, and this body has already begun to change. In the meantime, it's worth making sure that this lady doesn't see what she's seeing... not worth it. Tevos's mind greeted me with a light natural shield that could do little to protect the core of her mind and personality, except to cover her surface thoughts. I slipped into her mind, lowering my shields and allowing the Asari to see what I wanted to show her. And already together we watched how the once great Empire was dying. I showed all the most unsightly and stunning moments of cruelty: the destruction of a colossal fleet, the carcasses of Reapers slowly and inevitably entering the atmosphere, burning cities, huskies tearing defenseless inhabitants to pieces, terrifying mutations of still-living sentients on stakes, heavy fighting, streams of flames rushing through the once flourishing world scorched by bombing. I showed how the Protheans found the Citadel: an abandoned station, almost indistinguishable from the current one, showed the repeaters. And the next was the capture of the Citadel, neighborhoods burning with fires, a crowd rushing in search of salvation, intelligent creatures burning alive, howling and screaming, dying from the claws of huskies and modified Rachni. Asari's mind was in silent hysteria, she was trying to break the connection, but I wouldn't let her. I haven't shown everything yet... And Tevos was forced to watch the huskies assemble the bodies of sentients, how they are cocooned and recycled, how new Reapers like these are built... the creatures fly away to other, still living worlds, as they subjugate and break the intelligent ones, turning them into slaves and creatures devoid of their own personality... Finally, I flashed the blueprints and the Forge with a sense of hope... and hopeless despair and disappointment when hope failed to be used: the Citadel closing and the Reapers destroying the useless Forge. And as a finale... flashback: The Lord soaring into the bloody sunset skies.
  The merger broke off. Tevos was sobbing freely. Azari was trembling and shivering. Well yeah.. These are not just pictures... The lighthouse conveyed the EMOTIONS of the person who recorded it. And Tevos drank from my generosity this cup of pain, hopelessness, hatred, impotent anger and despair in all its fullness. She'll never forget it. Is it cruel? Absolutely! But the counselor must understand and feel the depth of the abyss into which their civilization is falling.
  I looked up at Nihlus. The Turian nodded understandingly, took out a small bottle of strong alcohol from a box on the wall and threw it to me. Sparatus instantly got to the heart of what was happening, and an empty glass landed on the table in front of the sobbing woman. I poured the strong liquor and literally forced the booze into her trembling blue hands.
  Have a drink. Tevos obediently raised her hand and drank. The clatter of teeth on the thinnest glass echoed in the deathly silence of the hall.
  While the woman calmed down, Sparatus paced silently in front of us. His gloomy face and hard gaze gave him some hope. Apparently, his colleague's reaction shocked him and made him think hard. Tevos is far from a young naive maiden and it is not so easy to impress her! I tried my best with all the sophistication that a mentalist is capable of! Finally, Tevos put down her empty glass and wiped the tears from her face. The sight of the Lord taking off made her shudder: the video was still playing on the projector from my instrument.
  "It's monstrous." She said softly.
  I nodded.
  "I'm sorry you had to see this. But... The Council needs proof. I can't rely on visions that only I see."
  Tevos nodded. The recording flashed and started from the very beginning: a booming shot and the howl-roar of the starting Nazara.
  "Where was this recording made?"
  "Eden Prime." I replied.
  "Counselor Tevos, do you recognize this ship?" Sparatus asked dryly.
  Tevos shuddered all over.
  "Unfortunately... yes. The Reaper." The Asari shivered. "Sparatus... this... Terrifying! Words cannot convey the nightmare that I saw! The spectr described the death scenes, but it turned out to be seen... The Asari's voice trailed off. I can't describe it. It's impossible to describe in words, Sparatus! It must be seen! Then... I'll show you!"
  The Turian nodded, thoughtfully shifting his gaze from the agitated Tevos to Nihlus and me.
  Irene's Specter believes that we will soon be attacked by these Reapers.
  "Seeing this," the blue palm pointed at the Sovereing, "I can't deny that... total. But why is he alone?
  "This is the observer." I said calmly. "You didn't see everything, Counselor. "That was just it... beginning. Unfortunately, you cut off the connection before I showed up... other."
  Tevos shuddered all over and shivered, correctly understanding my tone.
  "Go ahead." She quickly pulled herself together! "I believe the Sovereing is our overseer, overseeing the development of civilization. Before their death, the Protheans were able to reprogram the Guardians, and now the Citadel does not respond to the Reaper's remote commands. Otherwise... The harvest would have already begun."
  "What does the Citadel have to do with it?" Sparatus stopped abruptly.
  "The Citadel and the repeaters were built by the Reapers. This is a trap for young civilizations to develop in a way that suits them. And the main thing is that we don't create our own unique ways of interstellar travel. After the death of the Protheans, the Citadel and the repeaters were restored. Councilor Tevos saw how Feros's repeater was destroyed, for example. But now it's completely intact!
  Tevos nodded. It is very convenient to destroy us, because ALL our colonies and central worlds are located next to the repeater. Turn off the network, and we're helpless! We won't even be able to come to our other world for help! And the Reapers don't need to look for us."
  Oh, how the rage flared up! Sparatus must have the imagination to imagine such a war.
  Are the Reapers capable of this?
  "Yes. The citadel is the control cell of the repeater system." She is also a colossal repeater that was supposed to open the way for other Reapers to our Galaxy. I find it difficult to answer why Saren is looking for the Channel, since it is a monument to the repeater in the Presidium. And yes, it is fully functional. Do you understand HOW that sounds?
  Sparatus rasped.
  "How... The apocalypse?" I shrugged my shoulders. "Counselor, I'm at a loss and don't know what to do with this information.
  If it becomes public, panic cannot be avoided, as well as the appearance of strange religions, sects and other things... an outrage. Something else is worse. I have absolutely no idea how we can escape. The only thought: build interstellar ark ships and... fly away wherever your eyes look. Only a miracle can save our worlds. But at least the race will survive. Somewhere. If you don't believe me, ask Advisor Tevos."
  Tevos was dejectedly silent, her eyes downcast.
  And this silence impressed Sparatus much more than all my words. I specifically chose the most terrifying and hopeless shots to impress her properly, and it seems like I overdid it a little. I haven't felt such despair and hopelessness for a long time.
  "If at least some of the visions are true... Just a little bit... We have almost no chance." Asari whispered.
  Sparatus shuddered.
  "At the moment, the Sovereing has not yet managed to send a Call to his relatives. For this, I believe he needs a Channel. And he sent Saren to find him."
  "We want to capture Saren and try to rid him of the Reaper's influence." Nihlus continued.
  "A single Reaper is a strong opponent, but it is possible to destroy it or... capture."
  "The Sovereing can give us the opportunity to create weapons capable of destroying people like him. It needs to be studied." I added. "And build new ships with new weapons!"
  "We must be prepared for the arrival of SUCH an enemy!" Naylus pressed it.
  The advisers exchanged glances and stared at our trio with some strange interest. And it doesn't matter that Liara tried to pretend to be part of the decor.
  "Do you think this is possible?"
  "There is always a chance. We have a lot to lose!" I shrugged my shoulders. "We must take any chance, even the most remote one!"
  "Your evidence..." Tevos shrugged her shoulders, "they are quite convincing and reliable. Your conclusions have been approved." Tevos and Sparatus exchanged glances. "We will bring up all the research we know about an alternative way of interstellar travel. Your task becomes a priority."
  "Find Saren and the Sovereing! Find out what the Reaper needs!" Tevos hesitated. "And try to get Saren's Spectre back."
  "I could barely contain my sigh of relief. The way the counselor highlighted the word "Spectrum" gave hope that Asari understood what was shown correctly, and that Saren, this frostbitten liquidator, would have a chance to return to the ranks if we... I can fix his brain."
  "Where are you going to go next?" Sparatus asked calmly.
  "On Noveria." I replied. "We've heard some strange rumors, and we want to check them out. We'll buy supplies and leave. It's quite possible that we won't be returning to the Citadel anytime soon.
  "Keep us informed. As soon as new information becomes available, we will send it to you. Councilor Tevos finally calmed down completely."
  "Can we count on the fleet's support?" Nihlus suddenly asked.
  "Yes," Sparatus said dryly. "But the responsibility will remain with you."
  "Do you have anything else to tell us?" Tevos asked.
  Nihlus and I shook our heads almost simultaneously. You're free to go. Already on the way out of the hall, I was hit in the back:
  "Irene, hold on." Nihlus looked into my eyes with concern. I shook my head, gesturing that everything was fine. The Turian nodded slowly and disappeared through the door with Liara. And I returned to the hall and froze under the probing gaze of Councilor Tevos.
  "Spectr, tell me... Are you a human?" Sparatus choked on his colleague's question and coughed. And I just smiled.
  "No, Counselor. I am a metamorph. But one of my parents was human."
  "Are you a half-breed?"
  "No. Like the Asari, metamorphs are not half-breeds. I do not know who my parents were - I am an orphan. I consider myself to be somewhat of a human being, but if I wish, I can become a representative of any race, although it will take time for the complete restructuring of the body. Taking off my glove, I showed the stunned Turian and the Asari, who were looking at me with interest, a long curved black claw.
  "Yours... Excuse me, does the Alliance know who you are?"
  "Absolutely not." The councilors exchanged glances, and once again I saw that look of hungry cats looking at a delicious juicy piece of meat. Yes, yes, I absolutely don't mind you getting your hands on me! And yes, it is not necessary to give such a curious creature to the Alliance. I must have seen something like that flash across my face, as both advisers exchanged glances in unison, nodded to something, and I heard a sacramental:
  "Dismissed, Irene SPECTR."
  Chapter 14: Legal Day Off
  After talking with the advisers, I absolutely did not want to return to the ship, but I did not have my own place on the Citadel. And I wanted to relax somehow, to get away from the current problems and the nightmare that will soon catch up with us and involve us in a bloody meat grinder. Geth, Sovereing, Collectors... May it all burn with a clear flame! For once, it was a free day, and there was no desire to spend it worrying and planning to save the galaxy. When I crawled out of Sparatus' house, I was greeted by two questioning looks. However, it only took a couple of seconds for Naylus to assess my condition, and the Turian simply suggested that we walk around the Citadel and... relax from the problems. Liara suddenly agreed, and we crept off at a leisurely pace. And they were looking towards the park and the lake. To say that we attracted attention is an understatement! Two heavily armed fighters: a Turian and a human, and a fragile young Asari maiden, silently walking with an easy stroll - an absolutely surreal sight! It's funny, even the SBC didn't slow us down. Either they recognized it in the face, or they just already knew that there were two Spectrums crawling around without any purpose. In the end, the stares finally got to us! Interestingly, Naylus couldn't stand it first.
  "Sometimes you want to kill for such views." The thoughtful vibrating voice of the Turian pulled me out of my thoughts about the bastardism of the world and brought me back to sinful earth.
  "Did you get it?" In response, a short nod.
  "They shouldn't have worn the armor. I shrugged my shoulder. The armor sat like a native and was practically not felt, but it gave a soothing feeling of security." Although... I've already gotten used to it as a skin.
  Liara sniffed and said softly: "You can change your clothes."
  "Not into anything." I spread my hands. "And there's nowhere."
  "You can come to my place." Liara and Naylus gave out simultaneously.
  "May. But there's still nothing to change into. And I only have an Alliance uniform on the ship. There was something like pity in Liara's gaze. Sighing heavily, I frowned around at the sentients who were examining us with interest. I lived, damn it... They pity me for the fact that out of clothes there are five uniform sets of the same type and two armor sets. Yeah... But it's true, I can take away my wardrobe in one sitting. Not just the wardrobe, but EVERYTHING.
  "And where do you live, Irene Spectr?" Liara asked quietly.
  I stopped, looking at the blue-skinned girl strangely. But it's true. Where? My recipient has nothing of his own: childhood in an orphanage, military service immediately after coming of age without a single personal item in his pocket. Now it's the Normandy. Not with Irene Shepard, not with me in this Galaxy... Not at home. The entire property is an identification card and a bank account to which the salary is transferred. And... that's it. Something must have shown on my face, because Liara was embarrassed and whispered softly:
  "Sorry..."
  "I don't have a home." lowering my eyes, I looked at my hands, and for the first time in this world I felt... awkward. "No need to apologize for asking a perfectly normal question."
  Liara was silent, gushing with confusion and something... astonishment. Naylus looked at me with a completely unreadable look. Yeah... And what to say? The theoretical savior of the galaxy is a bum... super simple. No stake, no yard, all the clothes will fit into a military backpack and two trunks. This is if the armor is packed.
  "Why are you so surprised?" I chuckled. "A military man has his whole life in the barracks."
  "But now you are not the military of the Alliance, but the Spectr of the Council." the low rasping voice caused quite reasonable concerns.
  "The job is essentially the same." I waved it away. "So what are your plans, since you won't be able to take a quiet walk?"
  "Go to the store to get clothes, change clothes and go for a QUIET walk!" Liara suddenly slapped him seriously.
  "I'll change at home." The Turian shrugged his shoulders.
  Azari grabbed me by the elbow and purposefully dragged me somewhere along the same type of corridors, and I... didn't mind. Nihlus seemed amused by the situation. I would even believe it if it weren't for the tight, heavy waves of far from bright emotions: anger, misunderstanding, rage, a strange determination that arouses quite legitimate suspicions. What's he up to?
  Liara's gone wild! The girl perked up and for some reason took a sincere liking to me. However, it is not clear why all of a sudden! After dragging me into some obviously expensive store, the young Asari retreated with her tribeswoman to a corner, discussed something quietly, and quickly shook me out of my armor, leaving me in only a thin black leotard, more like a swimsuit. I don't understand!
  An hour ago, she was timid about my status, but now, having discarded all conventions and hammered the bolt on subordination, officialdom and all ranks wholesale and retail, she shook and disposed of my carcass as... like an older sister who finds nothing but jeans and a stretched, moth-eaten sweater in her younger sister's wardrobe. The same for me, I found a live doll! My objections weren't even considered. No objections... They didn't even ask me! I didn't even try to resist, I just cast a longing glance at Nihlus, who was openly having fun, leaning back against the wall and watching the whole mess with interest. Having driven me onto some kind of pedestal, the ladies took my measurements and it began... Half an hour later, I howled:
  "Liara! I need ONE suit to walk around the Citadel RIGHT NOW, not the whole wardrobe! We're leaving in two days! I wear either a uniform or armor on the ship! Liara waved it away. Nihlus laughed, and I felt my ears turn red. Scribe... the statutory colleague-colleague relationship began to crack even during our gatherings in the infirmary, beginning to be covered with a touch of friendship and common mystery, and now... However, one friend is better than a hundred colleagues...
  A call signal came to my drone, as well as to the Nihlus one, but they did not give me an answer.
  "Are you done?" A rumbling voice full of mirth rang out. "Yes, we're going to have a rest. Seriously. Follow my bearing."
  HOLY SHIT!
  "Garrus?" I asked resignedly.
  Nihlus grinned and nodded. I groaned softly.
  "Liara, that's enough!" They waved me off again, and the blue beauties whispered about something. Vakarian managed to arrive VERY quickly and now both Turians were watching me being tormented by two cute Asari, twirling as they want and dressing up in whatever they want. When I was ready to take action from glancing at a powerful pistol of life-affirming black color, they mercifully released me and allowed me to put on my native armor. I got dressed and ran off to the merrily grinning Turians, shamefully hiding behind Nihlus broad armored back, and the Asari were whispering about something again. They only reached us:
  "Where should I deliver it?"
  "Frigate Normandy, dock 1254-36." Liara looked at my angry face. "In my name."
  The girls whispered again, agreed on something, and Liara, taking a couple of branded bags, went to us contentedly.
  "Irene's spectr!" There was a gasp behind him. "I don't even want to hear any objections! Spektr Naylus, can you tell me where I can leave my personal weapons and armor for your colleague?"
  The only reason Garrus didn't laugh was because he met my gaze in time, but a mug, a mug! And I also thought that a Turian's chitin-covered physiognomy wasn't capable of conveying emotions. WHAT THE HELL! Also, how capable! While I was calming down, these three dragged me into a taxi, and we flew somewhere. Damn it! Both laughter and sin! I was torn between banal shame and gratitude. And the truth had to come out right now! A couple more days and we would have gone on a protracted raid, but for now... It's still a relatively peaceful time... And Naylus is good, damn colleague... Looking up, I met the ironic and full of hidden amusement gaze of bright green eyes. He's what... Does he approve of this lawlessness? I could tell by the pleased expression on his face that he approved! And he gets some kind of pleasure that only he knows.
  The taxi dropped us off somewhere in the residential area at the petal station. As it turned out, Nihlus dragged us to his house because, as a Spectre, he had a legitimate right to keep military weapons and armor in the house. He even had an arsenal set up in one of the rooms. Liara is a civilian, and she doesn't even have a light pistol, Garrus, as a fighter in my squad working for the Spectrum, doesn't have the right to keep heavy weapons in the house, but it's fine to carry a light personal one. I had a thought: maybe I should buy a place here, too. Maybe this station will stop annoying you.
  Nihlus led the guests into a small room, left Garrus and Liara there, and showed me the arsenal: a fairly large square secure room that looked like a bank safe. And the weapons were stored here...
  "It's like a branch of a Special Corps arsenal." I whispered in a barely audible voice, looking at the long rows of assault rifles, dozens of pistols, five sniper rifles standing on stands, armor in weapon boxes.
  "Trophies. And personal weapons." Nihlus chuckled. "Get changed before Liara comes for you."
  I whirled around, staring intently into the green eyes.
  "You won't tell anyone about this!" In response, a toothy, satisfied smile and a quiet purr:
  "Clear Warren! And you'll forget about that shot."
  "I'll never forget about him!"
  Niall broke off, catching my eye. The green eyes blinked, guiltily lowered.
  "Me too."
  And he went out, closing the door. Quickly removing my armor, I unpacked the bags and laid out what Liara had prepared for me. Appreciated it. Should I hit her?.. I don't even know... Sighing, I just... I changed my clothes. COMPLETELY! Because under SUCH a dress, my military underwear and a leotard do not fit in any way... Liara even provided for this... hmm... And the fucking shoes... on the heel... At least it's a reasonable height. After packing my things and putting my armor in an empty box, I opened the door and walked out of the arsenal, feeling better... naked and defenseless...
  For the first time in her life, Irene Shepard wore a dress...
  My appearance drew the approving gaze of Liara and the strange Turians. Nihlus went to the armory to disarm, and I sprawled out in a comfortable upholstered chair. And who said that Turian furniture is not suitable for people?
  It's very suitable! If you get it right. Liara, pleased with my appearance, went somewhere into the next room with a package under her arm. I guess I have to change clothes too. The ship's uniform didn't look good against our completely civilian background, and Asari rushed off to fix this flaw. And I, laughing, turned my attention to Garrus, who was happy with his life. Our sniper looked very good...
  It's unusual without his usual black and blue armor. Garrus Vakarian looked like him in civilian clothes... the usual hooligan guy: a black T-shirt with a wide hood thrown back and a short sleeve to the middle of the shoulder, dark blue skinny trousers tucked into high black boots with metal magnetic locks, somewhat hideously reminiscent of high-tech grinders in the Turian manner, a wide weapon belt, short fingerless gloves on the wrists There is an instrumentron bracelet on his left forearm. And the unchanging visor. A high-end, unique professional combat visor that looks nothing like a civilian toy. The wide hip pocket bulged suspiciously. There's no way Garrus is carrying a gun there!
  "Did you find out something?" Garrus shook his head.
  "An amazing lull."
  "Like before a storm."
  The Turian nodded.
  "There will be more information tomorrow. Maybe something interesting will come up." Heels clicked, and Liara returned to the hall, straightening a short dark blue dress with a loose skirt.
  "That's better!" Asari sat down lightly on the couch.
  "Nihlus, did you fall asleep there?" Garrus growled.
  In response, there was the rustle of a pistol going into non-combat position and a voice above his head:
  "No" Satisfied with his life, the Spectre hung the pistol on the magnetic clip of his weapon belt. Second.
  He looked like Garrus' older brother, except for the clan tattoos. He is dressed almost one-on-one, only completely radically black. Except that there was a red stripe along the collar of the T-shirt.
  Nihlus silently extended his hand to me, unobtrusively suggesting that for today we forget that we are both soldiers of the Special Corps, and remember that we are just intelligent beings who were going to take a banal break from worries and troubles, walk around the capital of the Galaxy and enjoy its charms and temptations. And really, why not? I reached out, put my fingers in a hard, strong palm, accepting the rules offered to me.
  The mood somehow crept up imperceptibly. For a while, we even forgot that soon we will face a brutal war with an enemy that is almost impossible to defeat, and that we ourselves are not just tourists at the Citadel, but fighters... We were just enjoying a calm day under the illusory azure sky. The Presidium Park turned out to be a very beautiful place. Liara took on the role of a guide, and she and Garrus showed us around... I like the sights. They took me to the lakes, and even showed me a system of small waterfalls and fountains. Everything was fine until we reached the center of the park and I saw HIM.
  Channel. I stumbled and shivered. Nielus blinked in surprise, but when he followed my gaze, he frowned.
  "I don't want to see him!" I muttered, turning Nihlus around by the elbow with his back to the repeater monument. "It's not enough to remember now who built this station and for what purposes!"
  "And it's true..." Garrus roused himself, grabbed my elbow, caught Liara gawking, and pulled me toward the parking lot of the flyer. "To residential areas?"
  "Say "to the bars," Vakarian." Nihlus snorted. "Not enough extremes? Or have you forgotten how the locals raided you a couple of months ago?"
  Liara pricked up her ears.
  So you've known each other before?
  The two crested ones laughed merrily.
  "Yes, there was a case." Nihlus chuckled. "During one investigation, I crossed paths with security guards. They pinned down the red sand merchants at the technical compartments in the Lower City, and only low-powered pistols were used. Rifles aren't really allowed to be carried. Vakarian then took a sniper rifle from the corpse of a drug dealer and shot the bandits who were attacking the barricade with it. He sits in the ventilation outlet and counts the shots until the end of the operation of the thermoclips.
  "Did you put it in your head?"
  Nihlus chuckled. This is his special handwriting. Head-on. The Batarians got it right between the eyes. And someone told me about "I'm a good shot"...
  The three of us were already laughing, and Garrus was smiling shyly.
  "At least you should take off your visor." Nihlus chuckled. "It's a very noticeable thing."
  Vakarian put out his hand in mock horror.
  "Over my dead body!"
  Nihlus waved it away.
  "Oh, varen you, it's really useless!
  Half of the Lower Town knows your face. Even those for whom we are on the same chitinous face.
  Garrus grinned.
  I take a VERY responsible approach to my work. You've fucked up the local crime scene so much that you're being raided with the regularity of maintenance on the Path of Destiny. Did you tell me how an ambush with three grenade launchers and combat drones was set up in front of your house a month ago? A crowd of twenty snouts with heavy weapons? The Spectre watched the confused kinsman with interest.
  "Krayk!" Garrus growled indignantly, but withered under the malicious gaze of the green eyes.
  "Just tell me it's a common thing." I grinned, but when I saw the guilty expression on Garrus' face, I choked. "Really?"
  Nihlus laughed merrily as he braked at the taxi. Oh, yes! Explosions and gunfire are common near his house. For periods, he had to live at work when his apartment was once again blown up, burned down, looted, vandalized, or simply booby-trapped." Kraik, seeing his kinsman's embarrassed and somewhat guilty face, laughed more loudly. "That's how we first met when I asked Venari why his employee was sleeping on a bunk. Right in the armor and armed to the crest with captured weapons."
  "There are no sofas in the C-Sec office." Garrus spread his hands. "So I spent the night in jail."
  "For the amusement of the local contingent." added a Spectr.
  "And why in armor?" And so that they don't get stabbed there either.
  "Have you tried?" Liara gasped in surprise.
  Garrus shrugged and nodded.
  "And then I had to write huge piles of reports and explanatory notes." The former officer muttered sourly, lazily watching which address the Spectr was dialing. ""Cora's Lair"? Are you kidding?"
  "It was bought by the Broker man." Nihlus shrugged his shoulders.
  "Is this the one I shot before my appointment?" I was curious. Nihlus started, looked at me in surprise, at the grinning Garrus.
  "Did you bang a Fist?"
  "Yes." shrugging her shoulders, she confessed.
  "Irene promised Dr. Michelle that Fist WOULDN'T BOTHER her anymore. Well... he won't bother... anymore. He worked for Saren and sold Tali to the mercenaries. And we needed her. very.
  "And did he say where to find her?" Naylus blinked in surprise.
  "He began to sing..." Garrus broke off, glancing at Liara, who was warming her ears. "Rir was VERY convincing."
  Nihlus lifted the plates on his forehead in surprise.
  "Tell me later." Garrus and I nodded in unison.
  "And about how they got drunk to the point of losing their sanity."
  "What's there to tell?" I shrugged my shoulders. "They celebrated my appointment and treated my nerves. Tali was almost shot, and we successfully completed the investigation. What's not a reason? Stress relief.
  "Dextro alcohol?" The Turian asked skeptically.
  "I don't care." I shrugged my shoulders. "Your drinks are quite tasty and the moonshine doesn't carry as much, even if the quality is shoddy."
  A taxi stopped in front of us and lifted the canopy invitingly. Garrus was given the steering wheel, and Nihlus and I got into the back seat.
  I didn't really care where we went: I trusted Garrus, Nihlus, and Liara completely. I was resting mentally. From the annoying faces of the crew, whom I treated with the same coolness as Shepard herself, from Pressley, who was constantly unhappy with the presence of strangers on board, from Udine, he would not be remembered by night, from the Geth, may the virus strike them... and from Normandy, with its rumors flying at the speed of light! Not a warship, but a haven for old gossips with a sick imagination, honestly!
  That day, I got to know the Citadel from a completely different angle. Liara showed gardens and greenhouses in residential areas, cultural monuments of other races, and took them to huge shopping malls and cultural centers full of all kinds of entertainment from libraries and a banal zoo to a virtual equivalent of a movie theater, gambling dens, and other benefits of the entertainment industry. Nihlus, using his status, took us to restricted areas and showed us shipyards, repair docks, station defense systems, military factories and huge warehouses. And then we left respectable neighborhoods and plunged into the depths of the anarchy of the Lower City and its dubious charms. Bars, markets, gun ranges, questionable quality canteens and shelters. The Turians showed us the inside of the Citadel with some special passion, enthusiastically describing the dens and the adventures associated with them, telling stories from the past. Funnily enough, Garrus was recognized almost instantly, but most conflicts were solved with a simple phrase: "And I quit!" and three powerful pistols looking into the displeased faces of the reasonable. True, I had to shoot, but in contrast, even a banal shootout with local scumbags brought rare pleasure, and the instinct of self-preservation was completely destroyed.
  The day ended well after midnight, according to our usual ship time, when the Turians decided that we had had enough and it was time to get out of the suddenly inhospitable bars of the Lower City. A taxi took us to the residential area where Nihlus lived. While we were getting to a low-rise house, an C-Sec patrol became interested in us: three reasonable men armed with powerful pistols, obviously not civilian models, and even slightly tipsy and a pretty Azari looked somewhat respectable for a respectable neighborhood... It's unusual. The Turians quickly talked to their relatives and let us go. I don't know what the two of them had done, but the patrol gave us very expressive looks. In general, the day off was a success.
  My last thought, when I was already passing out, was, "We need to repeat it when we get back from the Noveria!"
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