Nytare. Rebirth The Mass Effect is old

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

"Nihlus! 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?"

"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!"

Chapter 15: Protecting the Mind: The First Experiment

I was awakened by the insistent beeping of the instrumentron. Barely opening my eyes, I stared blearily at our rookery, rubbing my side. Yesterday we crawled home to Nihlus in a barely sane state: Liara was drawn to feats, Garrus followed his kinsman at full speed, snoring as he walked, I perceived reality very vaguely, but I had enough to orient myself in space. The relatively sane Nilus was steering us. Since his bachelor apartment had only two armchairs and a short sofa in addition to an almost square bed, we fell on the bed together without agreeing. Without undressing. I was smart enough to at least take off my weapon and take off my shoes. Now Liara was sleeping, curled up at the head of the bed, scooping up all three pillows and a significant part of the thin blanket, Garrus was sleeping across the bed at the very edge, with his arm hanging down, Nihlus was diagonally, and I was squeezed between two Turians, putting my head on his stomach and my legs on Garrus' lap..

Atas... Students in a dorm after drinking, not four reasonable adults! Although... What the fuck! We want to unwind, so we will have fun to the best of our sick imagination! Nearby, something crackled softly and plaintively, interrupting the lazy run of thoughts in his aching head. I turned towards the sound. Oh my... Garrus's visor! The guy didn't turn his head very well, and the unique device almost arched! A little more pressure, and the visor will simply snap! I carefully removed the thing from Garrus' head.: He'll be very upset if he breaks it. To put it mildly. Very gently...

The drone chirped, echoing from Nihlus hand. I unfolded the screen. Who can't sleep there? The subscriber... She squinted her eyes and read it... HOLY SHIT! Advisor Sparatus! I turned my hand over to Nihlus, who was purring in his sleep, and turned on his omny-tools. Incoming call, subscriber - Advisor Sparatus!

The dream was blown away in a moment! Nihlus! I shook the sleeping Turian by the shoulder.

"Rin... leave me alone... Let me sleep..." he groaned, trying to bury his head under the covers, but Liara only clenched her fists tighter, not giving up a single millimeter of what she had honestly captured.

"GET UP!" I jerked him onto his back, preventing him from curling up and passing out again. "Advisor Sparatus is in touch!"

A moment to realize my words... The green eyes snapped open, and Nihlus flew up on the bed, jumped to his feet with a jerk, and stared at the golden screen. After exchanging glances, we rushed out of the room, trying to make ourselves look more or less decent on the way. I smoothed my hair, straightened my twisted dress. In just a minute, we sat down decorously on the couch, and Nihlus accepted the challenge, turning his hand so that my face got into the camera.

"Advisor Sparatus!" Nihlus inclined his head in a bow, and I repeated his gesture.

"The Nihlus spectr." a short pause, a clearly visible grin in his eyes. "Irene's spectr. There is information about the matriarch Benezia."

Our instrumentrons beeped synchronously, reporting the reception of an incoming information packet. I immediately opened the file and started reading.

"A Novereya." I turned off the drone. "We're leaving as soon as the ship is loaded."

The advisor hung up with just a brief nod. Except he had a look... yeah... I sprawled on the slightly sloping back of the couch, looking into the gloomy and still sleepy green eyes.

"It's started. A Novereya. Rachni. Benezia. The way to Ilos." Pain shot through his temples. "Damn it! Shove these two to sleep while I find out what's on the Normandy."

Nielus smiled.

"Get yourself cleaned up first."

I moaned softly.

"I don't even want to imagine what Sparatus thought when he saw our sleepy faces! I wonder if he's already been informed about how we famously walked yesterday?"

"I suppose... yes. The C-sec taps the Council on Spectr with some special cynicism and pleasure." Nihlus shook his head and laughed softly, purring. "And Rin... You have Garrus's visor in your hand."

And it's true. I was still clutching this unique combat device in my left hand. I groaned softly.

"He almost broke it. I had to take it off."

"Vakarian is more worried about this toy than he is about his own skin." The Turian grunted, twitching his mandibles. "Sometimes it seems to me that he's only protecting his stupid head because he's wearing a visor."

"It's not true!" A low, hoarse, vibrating voice rang out.

Garrus stood at the door, leaning his hand on the jamb. Yawning profusely, Vakarian crawled up to us and fell into a chair with a soft groan. He squinted at his visor in my hand.

"Thank you."

"No problem." I handed the visor to the owner. "From now on, take it off. He cracked so plaintively that I sinfully thought that was it... Fuck your visor."

Garrus abruptly straightened up, grabbed his joy, carefully examined the device, turned it on, tested it, and returned it to its rightful place with a sigh of relief. Nihlus and I exchanged glances and laughed.

"Is Liara asleep?"

Garrus nodded.

"As I understand it, further rest is over?"

"Exactly!"

Naylus stood up.

"I'm going to get something to chew." He looked at me and stopped. "Sorry. I only have dextro products."

"It'll do for me. And we'll feed Liara on the way." While Nihlus was doing magic in the kitchen, I cleaned up and contacted Pressley. From the arsenal. There's no need for the XO to know where I've been and in what company. Although, judging by his displeased face, I guessed it anyway.

"Captain." Presley saluted.

"Pressley, finish loading and recall the crew to the ship. We're flying out."

"How much time do I have?"

"How long will it take you to finish loading and inspection?"

"Three o'clock."

"We're leaving in four. Finish without haste. Is the Joker on board?"

"Yes."

"Let's start calculating the jump to Novereya."

I broke the connection. It's good to have someone to offload the ship's everyday problems on! No matter how Pressley mumbled, he was an excellent executive officer and actually served as a captain. I was just defending my watches. However, I got to know the crew and the ship in all seriousness, paying special attention to the technical characteristics of the ship and supplies. Since our butler is such a redneck ass. Ever since my third life, I have faithfully remembered one truth: your people should not need anything! While you can, stock up on everything you can. On a long-range raid, you never know what might be useful. And never skimp on food, medicines, weapons and armor.

All the participants of yesterday's drinking party have already gathered in the living room. A slightly greenish Liara slowly drained water from a large glass, the Turians quickly filled the table with plates. The pretty azari turned even greener at one glance at the food, even if it was inedible for her, turned pale and stormed out of the hall.

"Is she sick?" I asked, settling down on the couch next to Garrus.

"Liara doesn't know how to drink at all." Naylus informed me with a chuckle. "As I understand it, this is her first serious drinking session."

"Oh! Virgo Azari is enjoying all the delights of her first hangover!" I grinned at him. "I wonder if that's going to stop her when we go on our next spree."

The Turians exchanged glances.

"Are we going to go?" Nihlus asked cautiously.

"And why not? Or are you against it?"

The expressive faces made it very clear how "against" they were.

"That's what I'm talking about. At least this time I didn't see Dr. Chakwas, as I overslept. It's not worth crawling onto the ship on horns."

The guilty look in Vakarian's blue eyes and lowered muzzle caused an involuntary chuckle.

"And, Garrus, stop feeling guilty."

"I supported you in the idea of going to the ship in this form."

"And I had no other options." I shrugged my shoulders.

"But now there is." Naylus pressed on. "By the way, I'm not going to risk going to Vakarian on a drunken head."

Garrus grimaced, which looked very funny on his face: the mandibles were firmly pressed against his cheeks, the stiff upper lip was lifted, showing sharp fangs, the chitinous shields above his eyes had shifted to the bridge of his nose.

"And when you're sober, you should be careful when visiting me." The guy said sourly, waving his hand vaguely.

"It's easier for you to move out."

"Who's going to buy MY place?.." Garrus muttered.

"The Citadel administration."

"For half the cost."

"Better than finding charred ruins again. Sell it before it gets blown up again."

Garrus sighed heavily and acknowledged the validity of his kinsman's words, opened the omny tool and typed in a message to the Citadel administration. Nihlus with the words: "Wait a minute," he finished writing something, signed his name, and returned to his seat with satisfaction.

"At least they won't risk heating it up."

"Thank you."

Nihlus waved it away.

While Liara was recovering, having occupied the bathroom, we ate quickly and managed to change into our native armor, after which, taking the suffering Asari in tow, we went first to Garrus for his things, and then to the docks. About halfway along the way, Liara came to her senses, and we stopped at a street cafe, giving her the opportunity to have breakfast. Funnily enough, there was not a shadow of regret on the little blue girl's face for yesterday's lawlessness. Azari gave up on our banter, quite reasonably stating that this was also an experience. We arrived at the docks in perfect order and without traces of yesterday's revelry, and Garrus left most of his stuff in the storage room for an unknown period. He's a bum like me now.

We were greeted by a flurry of activity on the ship: the crew was preparing for departure, boxes with weapons and ammunition, food containers and fuel cells were loaded onto the Normandy. A cattle bataler stood at the entrance to the hold and carefully checked the cargo being delivered on board. In the galley, I met a tall, burly man who was getting settled in and commanding the movers filling the grocery warehouse. It turned out to be our cook. I didn't bother him. It's a long flight, and I'll have time to get to know him and appreciate his cooking.

I don't know how Pressley achieved this, but exactly four hours after my call, the Normandy undocked from the Citadel and raced at full speed to the repeater.

The four days of flight to Noveria were somewhat hectic. The crew was disassembling the cargo, unpacking and checking new weapons, some of which were delivered to us from the Special Corps at the request of Nihlus. The council did not refuse him, and the landing party received good armor and weapons. Everyone was busy. Garrus and Tali took care of our Mako, bringing it to perfection, Rex sat down in the arsenal with a new weapon, Liara and Kayden were doing something there in the corner of the hold, periodically flashing biotics, and I spent most of my time in meditation. The aura unfolded completely, the soul merged with the body, mentalism and empathy reached full capacity, and now I could finally deal with the problem of protecting the mind from the influence of the Reapers.

My self-imposed seclusion caused a lot of gossip and an immediate reaction from those whom I already mentally called friends, and by the evening of the second day of the flight, Nihlus came to me. To find out what happened.

The buzzer on the cabin door sounded thinly. Without opening my eyes, I shifted my attention from the inner world to the real world. Nihlus. What was he doing at this hour? Without getting up, I pressed the button, opening the doors. Banal telekinesis is the simplest manifestation of mentalism.

"Come in."

The Turian came in, looking at my cabin with interest.

"Am I interrupting?"

"No," The door closed softly behind him. "On business or just like that?"

"You tell me." Nihlus pulled a chair over to the bed and sat down on it. "You've been in the cabin all day. She didn't even go out to the dining room."

"Mentalism has been activated." I lifted the datapad from the edge of the bed and moved it to the table. I'm sitting here thinking about how to protect my mind from the Reaper's influence."

Nihlus flashed interest, and I muted my perception.

"Any ideas?" It's hard to say. Usually, the consciousness of an intelligent being far from the mental sciences, regardless of his race, has natural means of protection. One of them is a mental shield. Its power and strength directly depend on the willpower of a reasonable person and on his mental state. But in your reality, I noticed a strange thing: this natural shield is practically transparent and is not able to protect even from an unconscious surface scan! I have to consciously make an effort not to read the thoughts of others. And that's the problem. I can't figure out what led to these results."

"And me?"

"And you. But you are a biotic, and all biotics have weak protection, but at least it is present!"

"I'm not a biotic." the man objected to me, shaking his head slightly.

"Trust me. You are quite able to manipulate this "dark energy" of yours, even if not at the same level as Liara, but it is enough to strengthen your own body."

Nihlus didn't argue.

"Is it possible to strengthen protection on the mind?"

"I don't know. We must try."

"Is this even possible?"

"Theoretically, yes." I rubbed my temples. "There is a whole science of erecting shields and labyrinths around the core of personality and creating Citadels of Memory. But I do not know how these techniques can be applied to the inhabitants of this reality."

"Try it and find out." The Turian said calmly.

"Try..." I grimaced. "Who's going to let a mentalist mess with their brains?"

Nihlus looked at me strangely and said softly:

"I"

I froze in place, staring intently into the calm green eyes. The Turian agreed without a shadow of a doubt, with fierce confidence and with a full understanding of the situation. He's REALLY willing to let me get into his mind!

"Nihlus, do you even understand WHAT you're offering me?" I asked cautiously.

"Full access to your mind and memory." He replied calmly.

"Do you understand that I can do ANYTHING?"

"Can't you do it anyway?" with a slight irony in his voice, he asked, tilting his head slightly to one side. "Without asking permission."

"I can."

"I'm sure I wouldn't even be able to notice the intrusion if you wanted to." The irony in the vibrating voice sounded clearer.

"You couldn't." I admitted. "That's why they don't like us so much. Mentalists are shunned as if they were... like the plague. They're afraid for their secrets." I looked up at the calm face of the Turian. "And are you ready to go for such an experiment?"

In response, a slight shrug of the shoulders.

"And why not?"

"Your secrets will cease to be secrets."

Nihlus rubbed his comb tiredly and looked at me strangely.

"I'm still alive because of you." He raised his hand, interrupting my objections. "Don't argue. I've done a lot in my life... Unsightly. And I'll do a lot more. Saren is my teacher for a reason. I don't care if you see something wrong. Rather..." here he stopped, averted his eyes a little, "hurry up... I'm worried about your reaction."

"Are you saying this to someone who doomed an entire civilization two lifetimes ago, deliberately leading the dominant species to genocide?" I said softly.

Nihlus twitched his mandibles in surprise.

"Was that for what?"

"Did not have. It was just the only way I could find to give this reality a chance to survive. At least, it's something I can handle. I completely destroyed the entire chain of events, turning from a hero into a bloody nightmare. Instead of saving the Empire in the war, become its hero and forever consolidate the status of the immortal Alar as the dominant species... I became... their undoing. New civilizations and other races will rise on their bones, but they... a complete genocide. I played the role of a kind of Reaper."

Nihlus shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

"Sometimes the end justifies the means."

"Do you think so?"

"Take a look for yourself." He grinned, gazing intently into my eyes.

I didn't look at it. There was no need. His emotions were already easy to read and without any resistance, as if he hadn't set out to hide them at least a little. Usually, a conscious desire really allows you to hide your feelings and thoughts behind the barriers of the will, but now... I shook my head.

"I hope you won't regret it later."

In response, a slight smile and irony.

"What is required of me?"

"Sit comfortably so that you don't fall down if you suddenly lose consciousness or control over your body. Come here."

Nihlus moved to the bed, leaned against the back. I knelt down and gently cupped his head in my hands, placing my thumbs on his forehead.

"Look into my eyes. And try not to think about anything, otherwise I'm guaranteed to read it." A short nod. I stared into his calm green eyes and easily fell into his mind.

A cursory mind scan horrified me. Not like shields... No protection at all! Only the basic one at the core of the personality, which keeps the psyche and mind in a normal state and separates consciousness from the subconscious, and the first veil. This is the last bastion. He will fall and the intelligent being will be mired in visions from the depths of his own mind, slowly going mad and losing the ability to think coherently. The natural shields are full of holes and it's not clear what to hold on to. HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! How?! There was a lot of work to be done. But first, we need to protect the core of our personality so that no one can get in and bookmark it. I slipped into the depths of his mind, starting to build a maze.

Words cannot describe the work of a mentalist. Building associative connections, protective veils and unconscious reflexes to the slightest external changes in the personal core, installing dynamic shields that respond to fluctuations in the veil. I didn't touch his memory. We will start building the Citadel after the first protection takes root and the natural shields rise.

I strengthened them by relying on willpower and the unconscious instinct of any mind to preserve its freedom and integrity of personality. As a side effect, Nihlus has almost completely lost his remaining gullibility. No, he hadn't become paranoid, it was just that earning his trust wouldn't be easy. Cold calculation and reasonable fears will prevail until he CONSCIOUSLY includes a reasonable person in the inner circle.

I didn't watch how much time I spent, but gradually the natural shield tightened the holes and, although it remained almost completely transparent, at least it stood up, as it should. And it will be possible to strengthen it next time with the conscious help of the host. That's enough for the first time. Let's see which changes will take root and which ones will crumble.

I broke the contact and moved away, staring intently into the completely glassy, devoid of even a glimmer of reason, green eyes.

"Nihlus!"

The Turian trembled slightly, twitched and shuddered all over, and I saw intelligence appear in his eyes. Nihlus blinked and shook his head.

"Nihlus!"

"I hear." He answered dully.

"How does it feel?"

"Strange." He stood up slowly, swaying slightly. "My mind is in a daze."

"Learn more!"

"It's like I'm looking through thick glass." he replied distantly.

"Is perception clouded?"

"No," The Turian suddenly shook his whole body. "The lethargy goes away, but the feeling of detachment remains."

You need to get some sleep. This is the result of the installation of the first shield. Let's go. I accompanied Nihlus to his cabin, which he shared with Garrus after returning from the Citadel. Garrus was there, watching his kinsman's slow movements with concern.

"What happened?" he asked softly.

"Mind overload." I replied. "He needs to get some sleep."

Naylus silently undressed and lay down on the bed, and I put him to sleep with a light mental touch. He will sleep for ten hours until the effects subside.

"Garrus, make sure no one bothers him until he wakes up."

Garrus nodded, looking from me to Nihlus with concern in his light blue eyes.

"Something happened?"

"It's not a big deal." I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Today we tried to put protection on his mind. I don't want Nihlus to repeat Saren's fate when we encounter the Reaper."

Garrus blinked.

"How?"

Should him say it or not? I stared intently at the expressive face of the Turian, looking worriedly at the already sleeping Nihlus, then at me. To be honest... Sooner or later, he'll find out everything. Is it worth starting this chain of frankness? And why not?

There is a high probability that I will have to gut Benezia's brains in front of the landing party fighters. Nihlus will definitely support me, but Garrus will... he may not forgive the distrust. Am I ready to lose his trust for the dubious value of keeping this secret? Definitely not.

"I can work with consciousness." I confessed.

"Can you read minds?"

Looking into bright light blue eyes... me... I said it absolutely honestly:

"Yes, I can read other people's thoughts and emotions if I want to." Grimacing, I replied. "It's just that you have to spend more effort NOT to HEAR this noise! It's like standing in a crowd of loudly and incoherently screaming sentients. There is no desire to listen to everyone's words... rather, on the contrary, I want to cover my ears. So it is here. Mentalism is both a gift and a curse."

There was no desire to lie or cheat. Would I say that to Alenko? Never! Would you tell Liara? Who knows? But the trust that I literally physically felt from the light blue-eyed Turian demanded the same trust in return.

The flip side of mentalism.

I KNEW Garrus trusted me... I COULD FEEL it... and she trusted him, too. Without a shadow of a doubt, almost without hesitation, without hesitation. Trust in return for trust. The mental mirror effect that people like me suffer from. A dangerous effect. Dangerous, first of all, for me. It is because of the mirror that mentalists lose their identity, dissolving into other people's emotions, reacting sensitively like a wild animal. The eternal threat. Balancing on the edge of a blade. A gift is a curse.

"Are you a biotic?"

"I'm a mentalist. It's a natural gift. He doesn't show himself in any way externally." meeting the gaze of the Turian, I pressed: "There's no protection from people like me, unless you're a mentalist yourself. Nihlus even has a natural shield that is almost transparent! I can pull everything out if I want! From the first breath to the innermost thoughts that he himself had forgotten about! And he VOLUNTARILY agreed to it!" I shook my head. "I didn't dare to do that at the time."

"Why are you telling me?"

"You asked. I replied."

"Wrong question." Garrus shook his head. "Why did you tell ME?"

"Because I trust you." I honestly admitted.

Garrus jerked his head up, staring intently into my eyes. Looking for a trick? I shouldn't have. I was being completely sincere.

"The mentalist has it... a peculiar weakness. The dark side of the gift, dangerous for us. It's always there. For biotics, this is exhaustion and the risk of burning out the brain. We have a mirror effect and a serious risk of going crazy by dissolving into someone else's mind. Even when I completely block perception, I still instinctively feel the attitude of the reasonable towards me. Without intending to read the interlocutor, I intuitively feel his attitude and respond in kind. To hate with hatred, to malice with malice, to contempt with even greater contempt. I have to consciously control myself not to kill in response to a wish of evil or a perceived threat."

"And trust?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Trust breeds trust."

He understood WHAT I said.

"Are you that vulnerable to others?"

"Let's just say I've learned to distinguish my emotions from those inspired from the outside."

Garrus nodded slowly.

"Keep an eye on Nihlus. If he starts talking in his sleep or starts having seizures, call him immediately."

Despite his well-founded fears, Nihlus quietly slept until the middle of the day and left the cabin just in time for lunch.

Our new cook cooked very well, and for those who had strayed from the same type of ship's rations, it was generally fine. Moreover, he cooked equally well for both groups of reasonable people. While we were eating, I briefly scanned Nihlus, who was sitting nearby, and noticed an interesting picture: the natural shield not only took root, but also began to gain strength. It feels like all that was needed for a full-fledged formation was a starting push for the natural defense to unfold, as it should from nature.

""What's the result?"" - a clear, loud thought, directed directly at me, instantly attracted attention.

I looked up and met the sly gaze of green eyes. He quickly realized what bonuses the presence of a mentalist gives! Catching his gaze, I established a steady mental contact.

""Even better than I expected. The defense began to unfold on its own.""

""In other words, is the experiment considered successful?""

""Yes. Your natural defenses will reach a normal level just in time for your arrival on Noveria, if you don't slow down. Full protection.""

""That's not enough, is it?""

""No, of course not. But this is the basis. Without natural shields, it is impossible to install additional shields. Especially combat ones that will be able to withstand conscious aggression from a mentalist.""

""So, first we should wait for the end of the formation of the natural shield. That's good."" a quick glance at the wary Garrus. ""Does he know?""

""yeah. I mentioned my gift as a mentalist.""

""Are you going to protect him?""

""If he agrees. In an amicable way, it should be given to all the fighters of the landing group.""

""Can he be trusted?""

""Absolutely. Garrus will never betray.""

In response, a slight doubt, however, quickly faded. Garrus Vakarian was recognized as worthy and brought into an extremely narrow inner circle.

Nothing much happened before leaving the repeater channel. I've been watching how Nihlus natural shield unfolds and how the defenses at the core of his personality behave. I had to adjust it only once, but even then, in small ways. Garrus watched with interest and a strange thoughtfulness, but he was in no hurry to ask any questions, although he was happy to join our evening gatherings. Tali finally disappeared into the kingdom of Adams, practically without leaving the technical compartment. Liara took over Kayden's training, and our biotic crawled out of the hold only to eat and go to the infirmary. Rex also got a kick out of the blue-skinned fragile beauty, however, the Krogan did not refuse Asari lessons and enthusiastically smashed training targets under her strict guidance.

The ship shook during the exit from FTL, and the cheerful voice of the Joker announced:

"Exiting the repeater channel in the Pax system. Noveria is two hours away."

Chapter 16: Noveria: Arrival

A Noveria . A small ice-covered planet, practically unsuitable for colonization, with amazingly beautiful skies, where the Horsehead nebula shimmers in all its splendor with a riot of colors. And as beautiful as space is, it's just as disgusting what's hiding in the planet's ice. Risk laboratories. Noveria is the territory of scientists, a place where you can conduct dangerous or prohibited research without being particularly afraid of the long arm of the Council.

"The Noverian Development Corporation runs this planet. To everyone." Nihlus vibrating voice in the silence of the briefing room sounded somehow particularly threatening, forcing the intelligent to listen carefully to the words of the Spectr. "The company owns laboratory buildings built all over the planet and rents them out, with little interest in what exactly these laboratories do. The equipment and protection of the complex from external and internal threats are entirely the responsibility of the tenant. Noveria is located outside the territory controlled by the Citadel Council, and the authority here belongs entirely to the NKR."

"In other words, are your credentials for Noveria invalid?" Kayden asked.

"Are valid." Nihlus grinned toothily. "However, we still have to find out how much the board of directors adheres to the agreement."

"That's why we won't be flashing our Spectr status." I informed this. "Nailus will most likely be recognized - he is a fairly well-known person, so there is no point in hiding his Spectr status. But I'd rather remain anonymous."

"The official purpose of the arrival is the visit of Dr. Liara T"Sonya to the matriarch of Benezia for personal matters." There was a rasp of steel in the Turian's voice. I'm just accompanying the doctor, and on Noveria SOLELY for personal reasons. The landing party: Liara, me, Tali, Irene, Rex and Garrus. Kayden and Ashley remain on high alert while we find out the details of the matriarch's visit at the station."

Ashley blinked in surprise and looked at me questioningly. I nodded. A smile spread across her face for a moment, but the sergeant quickly pulled herself together, listening attentively to my colleague.

"Garrus and Rex advance in full armor and with weapons. You are Liara's guard. Tali"Zora is a technical consultant. I am her escort. Irene..." Nihlus gurgled with a muffled laugh, "Liara's companion."

The faces of the fighters slowly stretched out as the meaning of what was said reached them. Liara turned a little pink and lowered her eyes.

"Nihlus will carry my weapons and armor. As the Spectr of the Citadel, he can carry anything and everywhere." I added.

Nihlus grinned and nodded.

"Our goal is to meet with Matriarch Benezia. How things will go next will be clear after this meeting, but get ready for the fight. And don't forget: there are extra ears and eyes everywhere in Hanshan Port. Literally. From the moment of disembarkation, no extraneous conversations. You have an hour and a half to pack." I finished. "Disperse."

My armor and weapons were already packed in a neutral case and were waiting in the ship's arsenal. While the fighters were gathering, I fell into Liara's gentle hands, and Asari, with a passion worthy of the best use, took care of my appearance, achieving the ideal she knew only.

The designated hour and a half has passed. The group gathered in the briefing room, as it was the most free. A roomy box with my armor and weapons was standing at Nihlus feet, Rex was lazily dozing, Tali was tapping something on her instrumentation, Garrus was conjuring over the visor, Kayden and Ashley were quietly whispering, but as soon as Liara and I entered, everyone stared at our couple. Shock, disbelief, admiration, and... um... yeah... I glanced at the elongated faces of the fighters, grabbed the embarrassed Liara by the elbow and walked to an empty chair. The dress I was wearing walking around the Citadel was the epitome of Puritanism compared to the one Liara chose for going to Noveria. A long, ankle-length, emerald-gold dress made of the thinnest and lightest fabric, outlining the body at the slightest movement, tightly clung to the figure. On the back there is a cutout to the coccyx, tightened by an interweaving of the finest golden chains, the neckline is almost to the waist... when I first saw this "dress", it seemed to me that it was held on the body only by gold chains and the will of the gods!

Matching gold high-heeled shoes. Dark red hair is pulled back into a high hairstyle. Light makeup in golden shades... On my wrists were wide bracelets of my personal shield, which provided me with protection and ensured that I would not get cold feet in these weightless rags! Liara looked much more modest in a simple dark dress made of shimmering purple starry fabric. Except that this very dress cost like a quarter of our ship!

I've been trying to convince Asari for half an hour that THIS is too much! Especially on NOVERIA! On this frozen cobblestone! The result is zero. Liara stuck her horn in, saying, "It's necessary." In the end, I managed to spin it up for clarification.

"Liara. We have half an hour before entering the Noveria security area." I said dryly. "And if you don't tell me why I have to look like... Anyway, I'm going to change into armor."

Regret flashed across the faces of the men of our squad. Liara blushed, but, thank all the gods, confessed:

"I'm a teenager by the standards of my race. For your age..." The Asari paused, calculating something, "About sixteen or eighteen years old. At this age, Asari are prone to impulsive actions, amorous, join dubious organizations, and often rush from one extreme to the other."

"How, for example, to bring a fancy mistress to a meeting with her mother?" I asked ironically.

"Yes. This is not the most... an original way of self-expression, although harmless."

"But why this particular dress? I'm going to die there!"

"But it does explain why Asari's companion is carrying a powerful combat model of a personal shield with a microclimate system. Besides, you look completely different from your pictures. To find out the Spectr of Advice in you... It's problematic."

You really can't argue with that. I didn't recognize myself in the mirror!

"Explanations are accepted. The Joker?"

"We're entering the security zone soon."

The joker did not disconnect the connection, and we perfectly heard the negotiations between the pilot and the dispatcher of the port of Hanshan:

"Control Room, this is the Normandy. Specify the vector and the berthing location."

There was a short pause and a distorted voice answered:

"Normandy, your arrival is not scheduled. Our defense system is tracking you. Name the destination of arrival."

"We have Dr. Liara T. Sony on board. She came to visit her mother, matriarch Benezia, on personal business."

The pause dragged on, but the expected answer came:

"Normandy, landing is allowed." pause, and data on the docking node and the landing vector. "Please keep in mind that we will identify your identities upon arrival. If your words are not confirmed, the ship will be requisitioned."

"Roger that. Normandy, over and out."

The connection with the dispatcher was interrupted, and the Joker's displeased voice muttered:

"Requisitioned... how so..."

The ship shuddered as the grapples went off and froze. We have arrived at Noveria.

"What are we sitting for, who are we waiting for? Let's move!"

I was walking out of the briefing room, safely hidden behind Rex's massive figure. I don't want the crew staring at me!

We underwent mandatory disinfection in the airlock, and I turned on the shields. The airlock swung open, and we stepped out into the hospitable... How fucking hospitable! Although the berthing areas on the real Noveria were closed from the weather, they were not heated at all, and the oak was simply terrible! I suppose if it weren't for the shield, a blue haze enveloping my figure, I would have rung in a minute! Liara, characteristically, turned pale to a delicate shade of blue and quickly turned on her shields.

An access vestibule led us to a large docking dock, divided into sections with one berthing platform in each. A long concrete platform with high metal railings led from the ship, which was suspended in its grapples. No extra boxes or other junk, just a bare strip of concrete, overhung by supports and lighting shades. Rex and Nihlus went first, followed by Liara and me, Garrus and Tali brought up the rear. After walking around the pier, we went out to a small security post. And, as expected, we were greeted by two human women and a Turian from the Hanshan Port security. The guards at the airlock didn't even move.

"That's enough!"

Maeko Matsuo, a short brunette in light armor, raised her hand, ordering them to stop. Our procession stopped obediently. Rex shifted slightly to the left, allowing Liara to step forward. Asari's fingers squeezed my forearm with unladylike force.

"Something happened?" Liara's soft, gentle voice echoed through the huge hangar.

"I hope not." the blonde with the shotgun in her hands replied dryly, looking at me with slight contempt in her eyes. I lowered my eyes in embarrassment, so as not to see the quietly boiling rage.

Whatever her name is... Kyra... I forgot my last name.

"You've arrived off schedule. Show me your documents."

"You first." Nihlus cold, rasping voice made his kinsman flinch and grip the assault rifle tighter.

"We are the law here! Show respect!"

The brunette interrupted Kyra by raising her hand in a well-known gesture of silence.

"I am Captain Maeko Matsuo, Elanus Risk Control Service."

"Liara T"Sony." Azari introduced herself. "Nihlus Kraik. My guards and escort. Information about our identities was transmitted to you from the ship."

We need confirmation! In addition, the carrying of weapons is prohibited on Noveria. Sergeant Stirling, take their weapons."

As soon as the blonde took a step forward, Rex, Garrus, and Nihlus raised their weapons in unison.

"Don't even try!" The Krogan growled.

"No one will take MY weapon." Naylus calmly reported, staring intently into the eyes of the startled sergeant.

Maeko sighed wearily.

"We have the right to use force. Hand over your weapons! I'm counting to three... one... two..."

"Captain Matsuo! Stand down!" A nervous female voice came from the speakers. "Their identity has been confirmed! They have the right to bear arms!"

"On what grounds, Gianna!" Kyra literally spat it out.

"A member of the Council and two of his escorts have the right to carry weapons on the territory of Noveria!"

"The spectr?" Maeko blinked in surprise.

Nihlus lowered his powerful pistol and grinned a little maliciously.

"Nihlus Kraik. The spectr of the Council. I arrived on PERSONAL business." the grin grew wider, turning into a terrible snarl, and caustic sarcasm splashed in his voice. "I am accompanying the daughter of Matriarch Benezia. In order to avoid... similar conflicts."

"You can go ahead, Spectr. I hope we can avoid confrontation in the future." Maeko waved her hand, calling off the guards."

Behind me, with a barely audible hiss, Garrus's rifle went into non-combat position. Rex spat and returned the shotgun to its magnetic grips and picked up the suitcase with my weapons. Nihlus, grinning cheekily, grabbed Liara and me by the elbows and led us to the airlock, accompanied by the openly envious glances of the men from the dock security.

As I walked into the airlock, I gave Nihlus elbow a little tug. The Turian squinted at me, giving me the opportunity to create a channel without breaking into his brain.

""Escorting the matriarch's daughter, then?""

In response, a sly look and a sly smile.

""It's more believable that way. Who would believe that the Council's Spectr JUST decided to give a ride to an unknown Asari, even if it was the daughter of the matriarch.""

""Taking advantage of the position?"" a slight irony splashed through the mental channel.

""I have the right, by the way. The Council turns a blind eye to our minor sins while we do our direct work.""

""Can I do that too?""

""Yes."" The doors opened in front of us, letting us into a wide hall. ""The council is interested in you.""

""What do you mean?""

Nihlus sauntered forward, heading for the reception desk under the curious and openly envious gazes of the security guards.

""I know Sparatus and Tevos well. They looked at you with SUCH eyes that I frankly doubt that you will be stripped of your Spectr status, even despite your alleged death and future connection with Cerberus. Especially if you manage to get Saren back. My mentor is a prot"g" of Sparatus.""

""I didn't know. How do they motivate it?""

""How-how... as usual. He was following a direct order from the Council. I was on a mission. Who knows what they can come up with?""

""I hope so. Will Saren be punished the same way?""

""Do you doubt it?"" a slight irony splashed from Nihlus.

""Not really.""

The light blue scanning beams of the drones passed through our squad and the alarm immediately went off. The beautiful girl standing behind the counter was alarmed, clicked on the terminal. The siren's wail died down.

"I apologize. Weapon scanners." The dark-haired girl forced a smile. "I'm Gianna Parazini, Anoleis's assistant administrator. We apologize for the incident at the docking gate."

Nihlus looked at the shrunken girl with a cold, arrogant look and said:

"Very friendly! Did your security chief get off on the wrong foot? Or is she always so polite to guests?"

Gianna blushed to match her dress.

"She is very responsible about her work." The girl said apologetically. "My duties include helping those who arrive. Do you have any questions?"

Nihlus gave her a skeptical look, but still condescended to talk.

"Your security system is too powerful for a small port."

"The Board of Directors does everything possible to protect the privacy of our clients." The girl's answer clearly raised a question.

Nihlus chuckled and replied casually:

"I have come on a personal matter and I have little interest in the affairs of your clients."

"This... nice to hear."

Relief surged through his mind like a powerful wave. Nihlus saw Miss Parazini's condition perfectly and grinned. At that moment, he looked amazingly like his mentor, as I remembered him: cold, cruel, arrogant, domineering. Literally exuding contempt and disgust. The man standing next to me didn't even have a hint of the cheerful guy who had dragged us around the seedy places of the Lower City not so long ago. Liara's silent amazement clearly said that she had never seen SUCH a Nihlus.

"Matriarch Benezia arrived on Noveria not so long ago. Lady Liara wishes to speak with her mother. Where can we find Lady Benezia?"

"A couple of days ago, Lady Benezia left for the Vershina 15 research complex. As far as I know, she's still there."

"How do we get there?" The question asked in a raspy voice sounded like an order.

"You need the Anoleis administrator's permission to leave the port."

"Where can I find him?"

"His office is on the main level. As you go up, turn left."

"Can we go now?" Nihlus asked sarcastically.

"Sure." The girl replied hurriedly.

And we left in silence, followed by hostile glances.

The elevator quickly took us to the administrative wing of the complex and dropped us off, not forgetting to remind us on the way that the security service is working to ensure the protection of customers. Nihlus went out into the hall, lazily surveyed the huge room and led us up a wide staircase, followed by the gazes of the ERKS fighters. I, on the other hand, placed my palm on my kindly elbow and scanned the people around me. Liara just followed where she was being led. Garrus and Rex walked behind on either side of the silent Tali. Our band is very entertaining, and we attracted a lot of attention.

The Hanshan Hall is a huge three-tiered room with a solid glazed facade. The durable transparent material provided a wonderful view of the blizzard raging outside the walls of the complex. The water gurgled softly between the stones under the stairs, falling in man-made waterfalls and small fountains, but this time there was a murmur of water... It's threatening. Hanshan was alarming.

At the bottom of the stairs, Nihlus turned left. The office of the port administrator was located in the left end wall of the lobby, sharing it with two rooms closed to public access. Two human soldiers in full medium armor, armed with assault rifles, stood guard in front of the airlock doors.

The doors automatically swung open as we approached them, letting us into an unreasonably huge and empty hall, with a secretary's desk at the far wall, and a couple of square tables with chairs and benches for those waiting for an appointment along the bare stone walls. The pretty Salarian secretary looked fearfully at the armed Turian, looked at me, at Liara, smiled politely and uttered the phrase on duty:

"How can I help you?"

Nihlus gave her a hard, skeptical look, which made the secretary turn pale.

"I want to talk to Anoleis." There was a rasp of steel in the icy voice.

"One moment, please." The girl touched a button on the console. "Mr. Anoleis?"

"Yes! What. What?" a high croaking intermittent voice responded almost instantly.

Spectr Nihlus Kraik and Lady Liara would like to meet with you.

"Yes. Yes, it's good! Let them pass!" The irritation in the Salarian's voice was palpable.

Nihlus nodded his thanks to the girl and went to the door of the office of the administrator of the port of Hanshan.

Anoleis met us standing, gushing with apprehension and discontent. Bowing his head in greeting, he said:

"What brings the Spectr of Nihlus Kraic and the daughter of Matriarch Benezia to me?"

Nihlus stopped in front of the nervous Salarian, looked at him lazily and said in an impassive voice, completely devoid of even a trace of emotion:

"I am accompanying Liara T"Sony. The lady wishes to meet her mother. As far as I know, Lady Benezia is on Noveria."

Apprehension deepened, discontent was replaced by mild confusion: the administrator was frankly nervous.

"Lady Benezia arrived a few days ago, accompanied by a personal escort with cargo. She is currently at the Top of 15." Popeye reported, rolling his eyes.

I shifted from one foot to the other, swayed closer to the Turian, attracting the attention of Anoleis with my movement. Our eyes met for just a moment, but it was enough for me to establish mental contact and slip into the nervous Salarian's mind. I listened to the rest of the conversation distantly, passing through the prism of the victim's perception.

The mind of Anoleis in terms of protection differed little from the mind of the same Nihlus or Ashley: shields are also in complete degradation on the verge of disintegration, personality protection is rather shaky, but it protects personal imperatives very strongly.

Nihlus arrival caused him serious misgivings. Why? The associative chain unfolded quite quickly: Spectr-investigation-apprehension-personal interest-fear of exposure-memories-thirst to protect oneself and one's own. The usual and fairly standard fear of a dishonest official. The game information that Anoleis is a bribe taker has been fully confirmed.

I didn't dig any deeper, just hooked the edge of the last victim, Lorik Ki"In. So he will help us, especially since I theoretically know how to get his location.

Hacking into consciousness took barely a second, and meanwhile the conversation went on as usual:

"A personal escort?" Nihlus asked lazily, ostentatiously stroking my hand.

Anoleis blinked. A memory flashed through his mind: ten Asari in full armor, well armed, standing in the garage by the shuttle.

"Bodyguards to ensure her personal safety. Mostly the Asari marines."

""Bad."" came a worried thought from Nihlus. ""The paratroopers are serious opponents.""

""Ten. At least he's seen so much."" I replied, throwing a mental weight on him.

""Are you reading it?""

""Yes. Ask this popeye around. Maybe he'll tell you something else or remember.""

"You said the Lady brought a load. Something specific?"

"Big, heavy, sealed." The Salarian spread his hands. "The weapon detectors did not react. Everything else does not concern us."

"Unsatisfied curiosity and caustic fear. Our precious administrator, Lady Benezia, is afraid. VERY afraid..."

"We would like to meet Lady Benezia." Nihlus murmured. "Immediately."

Fear concentrated, and the instinct of self-preservation kicked in.

"I'm afraid it's impossible!" Anoleis folded his paws on his chest. "Peak 15 is a private property in the Skadi Mountains. Besides, there's a snowstorm right now and the shuttles aren't flying."

It's clear. He won't move without an order. He's too scared.

"What business brought the mother to Noveria?" Liara spoke up.

"Even if I knew, Lady Liara, I wouldn't be able to tell. Your mother has arrived as Saren's agent's attorney."

Flashback: a Turian in white armor, terrifying Analeis beyond measure. Saren impressed the Salarian to the depths of his cowardly soul: tall, very strong, looking frankly creepy because of his prosthetic arm, disfigured face with undisguised implants and pins, icy light blue eyes looking with outright disgust and absolute ruthlessness...

Yes... Anoleis would NEVER go against Saren. He's too scared. To the point of trembling, animal, literally primal horror. He understands that the Spectr will strangle him as easily and indifferently as a worm on the road.

Arterius knows how to impress without really doing anything... It's simple, without hiding its essence...

"Do you do business with Saren?" Asari squeaked.

"With Spectr Saren?" the Salarian asked with a certain amount of patronage in his voice, even though he was literally petrified with fear. "He is a major investor in the Bayneri Helix Corporation, one of the leading organizations on Noveria."

"I believe Bayneri Helix is developing weapons for my mentor." Nihlus remarked lazily, slightly squeezing his thin blue fingers.

The panic that broke out at the word "mentor" hit my brain like a hammer. The image of Nihlus in Anoleis' mind was quickly being reinterpreted, being associated with the Turian who was so frightening to him. Associative chains appeared in the blink of an eye: Saren-teacher-mentor-Nihlus-student-danger-influence-Saren-dissatisfaction with rejection-personal intervention-horror... An amazing cocktail of emotions and imaginative chains. The Salarian turned out to have a very vivid imagination, and he could quite clearly imagine the results of the discontent of the only student of the frightening Spectrum.

"Considering his interests, it is quite possible." Anoleis responded a little more kindly. Distrust and caution. "Are you familiar with Spectr Saren?"

"Undoubtedly." Nihlus bared his teeth condescendingly, making the nervous Salarian flinch. "Saren Spectr is my teacher and mentor. Of course, I know him. Still, how can I meet Matriarch Benezia?"

Out of the corner of my eye, I glanced at my partner's face full of love and understanding. Nihlus looked a lot like Saren in the Council Chamber at that moment. The same ruthless green eyes, the same snarl showing sharp wedge-shaped teeth, the same light plasticity of movements, the same arrogant contempt of a higher being evident in every gesture. And the same brutality. Anoleis saw exactly what Nihlus wanted him to see: a Turian standing in front of a terrified Salarian is a true disciple of his ruthless teacher. The associative circuits in the brains of the Hanshan administrator were completely closed and the image was comprehended and fixed in the subconscious.

Anoleis won't go up against Arterius' apprentice.

"You will have to wait for the storm to end. When it's over, I'll give you a pass to the garage. Yes. There are shuttles in the garage." Nihlus nodded contentedly, and Anoleis almost fell to the floor in a limp puddle of relief.

"Where we can... To rest?" Nihlus purred, brazenly stroking my forearm.

I blinked in embarrassment and snuggled up to the powerful Turian. For a moment, a strong arm wrapped around my shoulders. Anoleis half-blinked, and then gave out:

"Go to the hotel. Straight through the hall and to the right. I'll let you know. Yes." The relief increased. The old bastard interpreted Nihlus pleased face in her own way. That's wonderful. And here are the pictures generated by his vivid imagination... yeah.. The old lecher... I've even lost my fear, damn it. But he's got a lot of imagination, I won't say anything. If she could have been embarrassed, she would have been embarrassed and blushed. As it is, nothing... I'll keep it as a keepsake. I was even curious how the old toad knew the anatomy of our races so well...

"Thank you." Nihlus purred happily. "Have a nice day."

"Yes. Yes."Anoleis quickly rolled his eyes: Liara smiled charmingly at him, hugging Nihlus by the waist.

I broke off the mental contact, leaving the old bastard with a mental bookmark as a keepsake: at any contact with Saren, Benezia or their people, he will completely forget about Nihlus and our conversation. Short-term memory lapse... What a sad thing... Well, who doesn't?

And we slowly left the office, leaving the deeply shocked Salarian to move away from the attentions of the beautiful Asari and communication with the student of his personal nightmare named Saren Arterius. Well, as in the canon, visiting An Anoleis did not give quick results, although we did not receive a refusal. But go find out when this snowstorm will subside? In an hour, in a day, or in a week. And we need to get to the Top of 15 right now.

The secretary stared at us with completely round eyes, and didn't say a word about Lorik Ki'in. Well, we'll meet with him anyway. In the meantime... It's time to take a look at the local hotel and the accompanying bar. As far as I remember, you can meet a lot of extremely curious creatures there. And at the same time solve the problem with access to the hangar.

Chapter 17: The Pass

After leaving Anoleis' office, Nihlus abruptly slowed down his pace, glanced at me, and activated the mental channel on his OWN:

""What did you find out?""

""Anoleis won't go against Saren. Your mentor inspires the old bribe taker with animal horror. You're practically terrifying him now.""

""Because I mentioned a mentor?"" The Turian was genuinely surprised.

""You have very similar habits when you want to impress someone... It's a frightening experience. Associative connections appeared instantly, connecting you and Saren in the brains of this toad. Did you notice that he didn't dare refuse you?""

""It's no use anyway.""

""Shuttles really won't fly in this weather. We need ground transportation.""

""Go back?""

""There's no point. Let's just alert him.""

""Won't he pass?""

""The bookmark won't allow it. He'll forget about you if the conversation turns to Saren, Benezia, or their people.""

Nihlus looked at me in surprise.

""What did you expect? I'm a mentalist, and I don't have much respect for other people's brains. To me, only the intelligent ones from the inner circle are untouchable.""

""I'm even embarrassed to ask..."" Nihlus drawled somewhat uncertainly.

Too bad for me. She's shy... Rather, he is afraid to hear the answer.

""yeah. I could have guessed it myself.""

""Guessing and finding out for sure are somewhat different... things."" a storm of emotions swept through the communication channel.

Sending him a sense of irony, I ended the connection, but I was in no hurry to end it. What for? He'll get used to the mental connection and, lo and behold, the mentalism will come through. It's quite possible. Or at least empathy.

The hotel we were looking for was located directly opposite Anoleis's office at the other end of the huge lobby: after skirting a stone wall that stood in the middle of the lobby for some reason, we turned right, where we found the entrance to this establishment under a glowing holographic sign. The elevator quickly took us up a couple of floors and released us into a short rectangular hall leading to the hotel bar and, in fact, to the hotel itself for the guests of the planet. Behind the reception desk, a smiling Asari stood in a tight black dress and radiated outright boredom and fatigue in her mind. Our armed company was followed by interested glances, but there was not a single attempt to approach and ask who we were. Apparently, everyone already knew everything.

""Nihlus, let's go to the bar."" I barely moved his elbow, turning him toward the right door.

The Turian reacted instantly, immediately turning the whole company around. Liara did not interfere with what was happening at all, quite naturally playing the curious Asari maiden and moving her slightly snub-nosed nose around. Garrus and Rex played the role of living furniture and did not shine at all, but I clearly felt their wariness and muffled discontent directed at others. Their port was annoying too.

Cheerful music rang out unexpectedly, as soon as the airlock doors opened in our faces. Irritation flared behind his back and subsided, bubbling dully on the verge of sensitivity: Garrus was annoyed by the loud sound.

""Who are we looking for here?"" a thought came to me-a question from my partner.

""We need the Turian Lorik Ki'In. He is a representative of Synthetic Insights on Noveria and he has some problems with Anoleis. It can help with the pass.""

What can I say about the bar? The feeling is a damp two-story stone sack with dim greenish lighting, rhythmic music in the style of the unforgettable "Drum and Bass", full of diverse people huddled at low round tables. It was also quite cool and humid, so I didn't turn off the shields.

""Send Tali and Rex to the second floor.""

In response, there is agreement and no surprise or questions.

At the entrance to the bar, we had an easy castling: I walked around Liara and grabbed her elbow, Nihlus put his arm around Azari's shoulders, Garrus stood next to me.

"Rex, Tali. You can rest for now." After taking a critical look at the bar, Nihlus added: "There are still tables available on the second floor."

Rex met Nihlus gaze. Literally a second of staring was enough for the Krogan to appreciate the essence of what was said. With a grunt, he grabbed the thin hand of the Quarian and went up the wide stairs, and we slowly crawled into this nest of intriguers and sharks of local business.

"Lady Liara, may I have your attention for a few minutes?"

A soft deep voice announced the beginning of a chain of events. Nihlus turned abruptly, frowning at the tall Asari in a gold formal dress sitting at a small table in a shaded corner. Liara blinked in surprise, but I squeezed my fingers on her forearm twice, and the girl nodded graciously to her compatriot.

"Why not?"

"Can I talk to you in private?" The Asari asked cautiously, cautiously squinting at the armed and angry Turians.

I squeezed my fingers again.

"Sure." Liara sat down lightly on a chair. "Nihlus, if you don't mind..."

Nihlus nodded coldly and walked away, politely pulling me along with him. The bar turned out to be filled with people, and there were no completely empty tables, but we found a fairly large table near the water wall, at which a lonely, upset Turian sadly nested. Lorik? Maybe.

Suddenly, a signal came from Tali and the Quarian's voice was heard in the miniature headphones:

"There's something interesting. I'm turning it on from the recording."

There was a click of the broadcast switch and the Salarian's voice sounded in our ears:

"An older brother? It's me. I'm on Noveria right now. I can't take long. The call is ten credits per minute. A straight line from the Traverse. Do you think it's cheap? I need information. About Synthetic Insights."

Nihlus, Garrus, and I exchanged glances, and the voice continued to rattle off the information we needed:

"The manager, Lorik Ki'In. He was caught by the arm. The Hanshan administrator has closed the office. I need you to take a look. What can I find out about... writing down a name?" pause. "Rannadril Ghan Shwa Fulsooom Karaten Narr Eadi Bel Anoleis."

The length of the Salarian's name made me a little skewed. Even the high elves with their sick ego didn't come to this! And the unknown Salarian continued to mumble:

"No. This is the administrator. The administrator of Hanshan. Well, think about it. A Turian will not risk closing the office. He won't let his "team" down. They teach them this in the army, so be healthy. I think the administrator is using this Ki'In to keep the flies away from his nest." a pause, indignation in his voice. "Of course I can find out everything myself! But how do you think I'll get this information through Noveria's networks? And the search results from other systems will go here for a hundred years!" a pause, and relief. "Thank you, big brother. It's time for me to go. Yes. I'll call you back soon."

The message beeped off, and Tali asked:

"Is it important?"

"Yes," I replied softly.

The connection was lost, and as if on cue, we stared at the sadly hunched Turian.

""Shall we check?""

Instead of answering, Nihlus silently pulled us along. Lorik, and it was him, noticed our company only when Nihlus literally loomed over him. The Turian blinked in surprise, shifting his puzzled gaze from his kin to me and back again. Something purred softly... He perked up.

"Good afternoon. Have a seat. Is there anything I can help you with?"

"You've already helped us." I smiled at Loric, who was visibly relaxed. "There are practically no places."

"O!", Lorik looked around the room intently and nodded in agreement. "Will you join me? He cocked his head questioningly and tapped the clinking bottle with his claw."

Nihlus nodded benevolently. We sat down, and Kraik tapped the order on the menu bar built into the table.

"I am Lorik Ki'In. Glad to meet you, Spektr."

Nihlus blinked in surprise.

"Do you know me?"

"Everyone here knows you." Lorik's grin was veeery much like a snarl. "Immediately after your arrival, EVERYONE received your description and... a ban on communication."

"That's how." Nihlus frowned. "I see that you are not embarrassed by this ban."

"Ah" Lorik waved his hand listlessly, flushed with despondency. "Talking to you is unlikely to worsen my situation."

"Something happened?" Garrus asked, having sniffed out problems on our asses with an investigator's keen sense.

"I am the manager of the local Synthetic Insights office. For now..." The mandibles twitched in annoyance, and the Lorik drooped slightly. "Anoleis closed my office."

"We've heard a lot." Nihlus studied his kinsman with interest. "What is the essence of the conflict?"

"Allegedly - an accusation of corruption against me." The Turian grumbled.

Garrus's eyes sparkled with excitement.

"And what do you say?" The insinuating rumbling voice made the frustrated Turian look at the young kinsman with interest.

"The administrator is interesting and reasonable. He's gotten very rich since he took over the rent."

"What an interesting one... connection." Our sniper grinned.

"Exactly." Lorik bowed his head.

"What did you do to annoy Anoleis so much that he had to close your office?" I asked.

Lorik stared at me with such an expression in his dark gray eyes, as if he had just seen me. Or rather, unexpectedly discovering that a pretty doll, it turns out, also knows how to talk. A slight effort, and I slipped completely unnoticed into someone else's mind.

A brief analysis: the state of protection is much better than that of Nilus, the natural shield... ooo!! The shield is practically in good condition! Great, great. However, I'm not going to get into the personal core. I just need to peek and eavesdrop.

The reaction to our trio is quite expected: the Asari Maiden's guard, the Turian Spectr with... hmm... Why can't he figure out my status? My first impression of me is that I am either Nihlus lover, or the Asari who came with him, or both at once, which, as it turned out, is quite common in a multi-species Galaxy and no one is surprised. I wonder why that is? I hooked an associative chain and reached for my memories. OH, WOW! Yeah... Well, you're a good guy... removing my mental probe from the layer of memories that had been disturbed by my curiosity, I switched to my jumping image, which did not want to acquire integrity and completeness in any way. And what's stopping you from believing in your first impression?

The associative connection arose suddenly: a blurred visual image surfaced from long-term memory, awareness passed, caught on the imprint of strong surprise and memory, and ... and here it is: the news about the appointment of the first human spectrum, my physiognomy in an article on the extranet, read by the case about fifteen days ago.

Nihlus and Garrus watched their kinsman's face with sadistic interest, while Lorik stared intently at my face, and gradually a clear and uncluttered dumbfoundness appeared on his face, and recognition appeared in his eyes. The memory that surfaced passed awareness and got into the layer of short-term operational memory. Lorik Ki'in recognized me as a Spectr.

"I have collected materials about... not entirely legitimate activities of the administrator." Lorik finally said, waking up from his stupor. "To find them, Anoleis hired thugs and turned my office upside down."

"Am I right, he didn't find anything?" I chuckled, shaking my head slightly at the suspicious gleam in the Turian's eyes.

Lorik lifted his upper lip, grinning contentedly for a moment, nodded, confirming that he understood me. I like that ALL Turians have gone through army training and understand sign language with a bang.

"You got me right, lady." The Turian called me a rather curious Turian term, which my omny-tool translated as "lady," and my mind flashed with a complex chain of associations.

The drinks Nihlus ordered were brought to us. In front of Lorik's surprised eyes, Garrus peeled off the lid with his claw, turning the bottle into a glass, and silently handed it to me.

"Is the data still in the office?" I asked, calmly sipping a Turian drink under Ki'In's surprised gaze.

"Yes".

I removed the mental feelers from Lorik's mind. I've already found out what I need to know. He will help us voluntarily and will be glad to have a mutually beneficial deal. It won't deceive. That's enough for me, but I didn't really want to find out the secrets of this individual: the Turian's life was stormy, and in his youth he absolutely did not deny himself... an insatiable curiosity and a desire to try everything that his wild imagination and sick imagination pushed him to.

"Do you need them? - Nihlus looke the conversation.

"yea"

"We can get them." I said, swinging a narrow glass with a lilac drink. Lorik squinted, with some excitement and ... hope, looking from the imperturbable Nihlus to me and back again.

"Perhaps... I believe that the Spectrum will be able to get this data. Especially so much... famous." The dark gray eyes lingered on me for a moment and shifted to Nihlus.

"Do you have... an assumption about how we can satisfy our desire... get this information?"

"Undoubtedly, lady". that strange word again, flashed through my mind like a flash of images. "However, there is one... What does that sweet earthly expression sound like? "A fly in the ointment in a barrel of beer?""

"Honey." I corrected him gently. A fly in the ointment. "So what is this vile substance that threatens to spoil the sweetness of having such valuable information?"

Lorik was enjoying our conversation, savoring the phrases and the wordplay. I'm a fan of damn catchphrases, wordplay, and turns of speech.

"The administrator hired thugs from the Hanshan security service."

"He pays them from under the floor. Miss Matsuo doesn't know about their work on the side. There is a high probability that force will have to be used against them."

Garrus flashed with contempt and disgust, on which a wave of rage slowly rose.

"Are the ERKS fighters working as a banal racket?"

"Some." I think we'll solve this problem somehow.

Lorik met Garrus' gaze full of kindness and understanding, shuddered, turned his gaze to Nihlus' face, equally full of love for his neighbors, positively radiant with forgiveness, and shook his head.

I suspect that you didn't come here just to admire the administration building?

Nihlus nodded.

"So your target is outside the port." Ki'in twitched his mandibles in silent annoyance. "Analeis will not allow you to travel freely around the planet. If you can get me the data, I'll give you my pass."

"Why didn't Anoleis cancel your pass?" Garrus asked.

"And why would he do that?" Lorik was genuinely surprised. "There is nothing outside but snow and hungry nathaks."

"I've always dreamed of looking at hungry Nathaks." I purred. A omny-tool unfolded above the hand. "Liara, my sweet, stop chatting with your clanmate." A soft, melodious chuckle sounded in the headphones. Rex, baby, did you fall asleep out of longing? The Krogan's angry growl was like balm on my nerves, Nihlus gurgled with laughter, and Garrus openly laughed. "Don't forget to bring my favorite dress." Tali, don't leave our baby unattended. He's so... mmm... nervous...

I cut the connection. Nihlus covered his face with his palm and silently trembled in a fit of hysterical laughter. Garrus, on the other hand, was just laughing out loud under Lorik's uncomprehending gaze. Literally a minute later, elegant blue hands were placed on my shoulders.

"I see you haven't missed me." Liara purred, glancing suspiciously at Lorik.

"I always miss you, sweetheart." I smiled, remembering the "exploits" of Azari, who had drunk light alcohol.

Liara immediately took the hint and blushed.

A gun case thudded onto the table, and the Krogan's voice, growling with anger, muttered:

"Your "dress"..." The expression on Lorik's face will long and joyfully warm my heart throughout many rebirths!

"Thanks, Rex."

The Krogan looked at my pleased face, appreciated the fucked-up face of an unknown Turian, chuckled, the lingering anger faded.

"We have to leave you. But you will wait for us, won't you? We'll just be a few minutes... I will try on a dress, we will please your "guests" with our personalities... And we'll be right back!"

A card was placed on the table.

"This is a pass to my office. It will allow you to activate the elevator. As soon as you leave the bar, turn right. The elevator is not far from the entrance to the garage. The materials are on my computer in my office. The encryption key is on this one." A small device landed on the table next to the card. "Insert it into the socket, and everything will start by itself. Lorik grinned and added: "And try not to get blood on the carpets."

"We will be very careful."

With a soft, relieved laugh, we left the company of this representative of the militant people and went to look for an office. Lorik had described exactly where the elevator he was looking for was located: a flashing red panel glowed in the gloom just before the turnoff to the garage. One touch of the card to the touchpad, the soft rustle of the doors opening, and the elevator carried us down.

Lorik's office is almost an exact replica of the bar's premises. The same anteroom with the reception desk, now empty, two doors leading to the office and office premises, the same murmur of water flowing over decorative plates. Everything is exactly the same. There was no one on the left. There are five on the right.

"The five sentients are behind the left door." I put the box on the counter and opened it. One Turian. The rest are people. With what pleasure I pulled off the golden-green obscenity - words cannot convey! Bron'ka... My beloved Bronka, how I've missed you! Humming a tune that came to mind, I quickly donned my armor, connected the internal equipment, and put on my visor. The weapons slid easily into place: the familiar Harpoon, the Predator large-caliber pistol, and the assault rifle of the same name. She jumped up. Everything is in place, the armor fits like a native one. I tossed my dress and shoes into the trunk and laid out my assault rifle.

"Ready."

Garrus jerked his head toward the door.

"Dare to attack?"

"You know how power corrupts."

Garrus grimaced. I must have remembered one of my colleagues.

"Liara, try to keep your head down and put up your shields. If it comes to a shootout."

The Asari nodded. Nihlus touched the sensor and the doors began to move, allowing us to enter a spacious hall with a massive square column in the middle. On the left is a wide staircase leading to the second floor, where Lorik's office should be located. Two ERKS fighters stood in front of the column: a Turian and a human male, and they were frankly bored. The Turian reacted first: raising his rifle, he asked dryly:

"Stop! Hanshan Security Service. This office is closed! Who are you?"

"Spectr of Nihlus Krayk." Nihlus replied calmly. "I am in this office with the permission of its owner."

"Ki'Ina?" The man raised his rifle. "Do you work for him? He's under investigation!"

Nihlus choked on this suggestion. The Turian from ERKS looked at his colleague as if he were an idiot and wisely retreated.

"I am the Spectr of the Council! And I ONLY work for the Citadel Council." Nihlus' icy rasping voice carried far into the silence of the office. You are so much... Are you incompetent for not knowing widely known facts, or do you want to insult me?"

"Noveria does not enter the Citadel Space! Your credentials here are invalid!"

In response, a hard look from a Turian fighter.

"Valid! The Spectr of the Citadel Council has full rights and privileges in the territory of Noveria in accordance with the agreement concluded by the Board of Directors and the Citadel Council! I'm sorry, Spectr."

"Nihlus nodded benevolently."

"However, your companions are breaking the law. You have the right to carry weapons, as do your TWO escorts."

I silently took out my ID card and handed it to the fighter. The Turian glanced at my status, blinked in surprise, and lowered his weapon.

"I'm sorry, Spectr."

Yeah... The hierarchy trains its population with a bang. The man choked on air.

"The spectrum? Is she? Dalisar, you gullible idiot! You..." Then his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed to the floor.

"I'm tired of it," I said calmly.

Dalisar looked at his uncooperative colleague and casually asked:

"Is he dead?"

"In a swoon." I replied. "I prefer not to kill unnecessarily, and he definitely led to conflict."

The Turian nodded cautiously. I smiled wryly and said softly:

"You do understand that we will enter this office anyway, take what we need and leave? Dalisard nodded slowly. There are four of you. You, the sniper on the stairs with the Punisher, who won't even have time to blow through our shields in the time it takes for OUR sniper to remove it, and two more behind the column. One with a Lancer, the other with a Banshee. We can kill you all here and we won't get anything for it. Unless we quarrel with the sergeant and kill her if she decides to avenge you. And she's a hot-headed and impulsive girl who doesn't listen to reason.

The Turian nodded dumbly.

"Even if one of you miraculously survives, I don't think Matriarch Benezia will forgive the death of her daughter, Liara, and Saren Arterius", Dalisar flinched at the sound of the rebel Spectre's name "he will ignore the death of his only student. Do I need to explain how long and happy your life will be with SUCH attention?"

Dalisard threw up his hands.

"I get you, Spectr! Come on in. I hope there won't be any unnecessary conflicts between us."

"I really hope so."

We moved on. The evil Rex, passing by, pushed Dalisar with his shoulder so that he could barely stand on his feet, and growled:

"Get' out of the way!"

I turned around and met the angry gaze of a disappointed Krogan.

"Rex, this is petty!"

"He talks too much!"

"He saved the lives of his colleagues, no matter how stupid they were, and this is a worthy act."

Rex waved him off, but at least he stopped being angry. At least the krogan cooled down as quickly as it boiled and didn't take any bullshit to heart.

We got the data without any problems at all. Dalisar followed us, but he didn't bother us. Already on the way out of the office, a full of rage flew at our backs:

"You shouldn't be here."

I turned lazily. Oh, what people... Kyra showed up.

The blonde's gray eyes widened in surprise and narrowed sharply when she recognized me.

"It seems to me that we are not represented... miss..." I said with a grin, shaking the Predator.

"Are you going to show respect?" the woman snorted. "Sergeant Kira Stirling, Elanus Risk Control Service."

"The spectr of Irene Shepard." I said indifferently, meeting his direct gaze. "Is there something you want to tell us, Sergeant?"

"For what you've done, Anoleis will kick you off the planet."

"He won't risk it." I grinned at him. "Or have you decided to personally play the hero?"

Kira flared up with rage.

"Your people are working for a bribe." Garrus reported. "You're not on duty here and you're breaking the law."

The rage turned into rage.

"You are violating the orders of the port administrator!"

"We are fulfilling the task of the Council." Nihlus rasped indifferently.

"And it will be fulfilled, regardless of the money spent and the blood spilled. You should step back." I finished my colleague's unspoken phrase.

"The end justifies the means, right?" The blonde literally spat it out.

"THIS goal justifies ANY means." I said dryly, and the uncooperative lady sank to the floor. You should not look into the eyes of a mentalist when he has free time. Take her to the infirmary. He'll wake up in a couple of hours. And it would be better for her if the thought of... revenge didn't enter her blonde head. She won't survive our third conflict.

"Out of the way!" Rex growled and pushed some guy out of our way.

There were no people willing to detain us. We calmly left the Synthetic Insights office, but only Nihlus went to Lorik for a pass, and we waited before turning into the garages. However, I didn't get bored for a long time, because after about eight minutes, a direct connection with Nihlus turned on, and I became an invisible listener to an entertaining conversation:

"The Board of Directors knows that Anoleis is a corrupt official." I was surprised to recognize Gianna Parazini in the quiet female voice. "I've been working undercover for six months." Don't you get it, Gianna is a security guard? There was something like that in the game, but at that moment I was too lazy to do side quests, and I didn't talk to this lady, just giving the Turian his data. Apparently - in vain.

"I want you to convince Ki'in to testify before the board of directors."

"And how can I help you with this?" Nihlus rasped.

"The information you took from the Synthetic Insights office." She can help with the investigation.

"You're too late. I've already given it to Lorik."

"What?" Gianna was definitely confused. "It was the best opportunity... Why did you give it away?"

"I need to get to the Top of 15." The Turian said dryly.

"I would help you too! It would have been longer, but is that a reason to let a criminal go free?" The desperation in the girl's voice was clear.

"I don't have time." Nihlus dismissed Gianna indifferently.

"Nothing better could have been expected from the Spectr! You never give a damn about anything except your assignment!"

There were hurried footsteps retreating.

"Did you hear that?" A quiet, vibrating voice was barely audible over the noise of the music.

"I heard it. Let them solve problems with their management themselves. We have enough troubles of our own. Did you get a pass?"

"Yes. I'll be right there."

They let us into the garage with a creak. But they missed it. It seemed that in a little while, and one of us would grab a weapon. I was close to it. The feeling of problems drilled into my brain and wouldn't let me calm down, and it wasn't about the geth that would be waiting for us in this garage. There's something else here...

The door closed softly behind us. I activated the rifle, slowly approaching the massive box.

"Be careful. There might be Geth here somewhere." Behind him, the Harpoon disintegrated with a soft rustle. I didn't need to look, I already knew that our sniper understood the task and would do everything in his power. Liara, Tali. Keep your head down, stay out of the fight. Cover with shields if... A booming shot cut me off as Garrus found his first target. The Geth-hunter yelped and fell to the floor. A second shot and the synthetic went silent. Geth creaked somewhere ahead, and massive silhouettes appeared behind the boxes. Stormtroopers! One, two... Three, four! The rifle hit him in the shoulder, and he didn't even slow down. Another shot! A harpoon went off behind me, and my stock jerked. The Nihlus rifle was aimed somewhere under the ceiling, the partner jerked sharply, shifting the sight for a quick target. Something appeared behind the box. I shifted my aim and fired as soon as some Geth got in the crosshair. The crimson stroke of a hunter's murderous shot whistled overhead.

A grenade flew past, detonating, and the roar of Rex's shotgun. I put the Harpoon on the floor, took off the Predator: the stormtroopers were rapidly approaching!

The pop of the biotics coincided with the roar of a detonated mine. A scarlet streak flew over the Krogan's head, Garrus' Harpoon roared loudly, and the hunter fell off the wall. The stormtrooper fell in a pile of scrap, Rex shouted something in his native language, and I leaned out from behind the box, firing short bursts at the Krogan-shot stormtrooper.

Nihlus jerked me sharply by the shoulder, and I find myself on the ground. The box shuddered from the impact of the rocket and began to slowly fall towards us. With a pop of biotics, the box slowed down its fall: Liara poked her head out from behind the shelter, shining with a blue halo. Grabbing my rifle, I rushed to another crate, but a rocket exploded nearby and threw me against the wall.

For a few moments, I fell out of reality, trying to reduce the focus. They grabbed me under the arms and dragged me behind a drawer. A little to the side, Rex turned the stormtrooper over with a sharp kick and put a shotgun charge directly into the light bulb. Faster! Faster! My vision cleared. I picked up the rifle and aimed at Geth. A shot, a shot, the whistle of a cooled barrel, change the sight, a shot at a stormtrooper shot down by Garrus. Rex finished off the third one. The roar of a stormtrooper in my ear. The last enemy fell to the floor.

"The freaks..." The rifle fell heavily to his knees. "Are there any wounded?"

A short roll call and Nihlus response:

- Everyone is safe.

The Turian extended his hand and helped me up, carefully examining the scorched armor.

"I'm safe. I just got a little concussion. My ears are ringing and I can't hear very well."

In the best movie traditions, when it was all over, the doors opened and Maeko and four ERKS fighters flew into the garage. And, instead of trying to figure it out, the brave captain started with a hit-and-run:

"What are you doing here, Spektr!" Maeko saw me and stopped. "Who are you?"

I picked up my beloved Harpoon, carefully checked the rifle, folded it and hung it on the grips.

It was not enough to be left without a weapon.

"Who! You! Such!"

"What answer do you want to hear, Captain?" The Nihlus screeched.

"Who is this woman?" A finger was pointed at me.

"My colleague. The spectr of Irene Shepard."

Maeko choked.

"The spectr? But..."

"We have our own affairs on Noveria, and they do not concern you in any way." The Turian snapped dryly. "Answering your question, we were just protecting our lives from the attack of the Geth, who for some reason ended up in your garage. Answering your question, we were just protecting our lives from the attack of the Geth, who for some reason ended up in your garage. Should I consider this an attack? Nihlus stopped in front of the confused woman, staring hard into her eyes. Or did the board of directors start cooperating with synthetics?"

The captain took a step back from the angry Turian.

"Solve your problems, Captain. And we will solve our own. And maybe we can help you solve yours. Do you have any more questions?"

"No, the Nihlus spectr."

Nihlus immediately turned around and, together with Rex, went to check the garage. But there were no more Geth. Tali and Liara came out from behind the shelter. The Quarian bent over the hunter, the golden interface of the instrumentron unfolded, and our genius engaged in applied evisceration in the field. And I went to the gate, near which a surprise was waiting for me... There was no Mako. There was no workable transport in the hangar at ALL. Not a Mako, much less a Grizzly. Wistfully looking around the large and EMPTY room, littered with unpacked boxes, I touched the transmitter and said:

"Nihlus... We have a problem... We need transportation."

Chapter 18: The Road through the Storm

I walked in circles around the garage, frowning as the Hanshan Security forces dragged the Geth into a pile. On second thought, they decided to hush up the situation, and thanks to a tiny impact on the captain's mind and a shift in priorities, administrator Anoleis will remain blissfully unaware of what happened in the garage. The fighters received a simple short-term bookmark from me, which does not allow them to talk about what happened for five days. Then the bookmark itself will dissolve and disappear without harm to the mind.

My fighters sat on the boxes and watched the work of the ERKS fighters, periodically squinting at me with their eyes. Nihlus had gone to the ship and brought armor for Liara, and now the Asari was sitting in armor next to Tali and arguing about something with the Quarian. Rex didn't really care. Garrus was watching me, waiting for further orders. Nihlus was looking after Captain Maeko. I was wondering how we could get the Mako from the Normandy, or where we could get transportation. Any. I dismissed the idea of returning to the ship and landing at the laboratory building right away: as far as I remember, there were enough turrets along the way that there was a very real risk to the spaceship. The Joker will eat my head off for the ship later, he will remember every scratch until he dies, despite all the subordination... which he didn't give a damn about in life. And there's no point in just setting up a frigate. There is no equipment in the garage. Shuttles - it's clear why they were removed, the storm is still. Where's the ground transportation? I'm missing something...

But what?

Sitting down on the floor, I closed my eyes and immersed myself in the Citadel of my memory, pulling out everything I remembered about the mission to Noveria. So... A smuggling quest? Fuck him! Medusa can handle it on her own. They will do without the help of the Spectrum. Not up to them. So... The Asari and her troubles over the marines? I've come up with something that doesn't exist. Useless... Lorik? I've already given you my pass. What else... Who can help us with transportation at all? There was something like that... Or someone else? The memory hung very close... I clung to a vague image...

I stopped abruptly.

Lilichierax!

That's who knows EVERYTHING about transport on Noveria, so it's him! Now it remains to find him.

My fighters perked up. Nihlus immediately got in touch:

""Have you got an idea?""

""Yes! Lilichierax!""

Nihlus blinked in surprise.

""Who is this?""

""Li is the chief technician of Hanshan!""

Approaching the fighters, I reported:

"Wait here. We'll go find the chief technician. If anyone can tell us how to get around the problem with transportation, it's him. Nihlus, Garrus is with me. Rex, you're in charge. If you have any problems, send it back... to Nihlus. The Krogan simply nodded, glancing idly at the milling crowd.

We left the garage under the gaze of the local security guards, but no one said a word. My mood was jumping between "normal" and "wait for a setup," I had no idea where to look for this reasonable person if he wasn't in the canonical place. And he could be anywhere! However, it didn't take long to find Lee. I don't know if it was canon-canon or if Lilichyerax was just bored, but as soon as we left the garage and turned the corner, the intelligent one we were looking for found himself in a nook comfortable for observing the surrounding space.

"Rin, isn't that him?" Garrus nodded at a tall Turian in a blue-and-red coverall leaning against the wall at the turnoff to the office buildings.

Maybe. It could be!

We purposefully moved towards the bored Turian. He had noticed our group, of course, and was now examining it with interest, quickly identifying each of us.

"The Nihlus Krayk spectr, right?"

A hoarse, low, smoky voice, tinged with curiosity. The emotions are boredom and mild interest.

"Right."

We stopped by a technician.

"It seems that everyone who is interested in this is aware of us." I looked at Lee with interest.

"Oh! The Spectr of the Council became known immediately." Lee laughed hoarsely. "But I do not know who you are. The first impression was there... Deceptive."

Lee's emotions were filled with benevolent curiosity. He didn't give a damn about Anoleis and his problems, the board of directors, all of Noveria's investors and their behind-the-scenes struggle. He was just doing his job and not getting into the squabbles of the rulers of this world.

"The spectr of Irene Shepard."

"oh!" The Turian's eyes widened in surprise. "Who would have thought! The first Spectr is human on our planet."

"And who are you?"

"I am the chief mechanic of Hanshan." Lee drawled hoarsely and good-naturedly, slightly spreading his mandibles. "My name is Lilichierax. For you, it's just Lee." The Turian chuckled. "It's hard for people to pronounce my full name."

"Chief mechanic... are you involved in all the machinery?"

"Yes. I have twelve subordinates. We make sure that the shuttles do not break down."

"Is there no transport here except shuttles?" I was curious. "On the ground, for example?"

"Why is that? There is. But they are located in closed garages." Lee chuckled. "Anoleis doesn't like it when someone rides unsupervised in the mountains. Then you have to look for them and pull them out. Again, there are a lot of problems with corpses later."

"You don't think much of the locals." Nihlus said calmly.

"I used to be a military technician. I got here. And here... Apart from Maeko's people, everyone is in corporate affairs. They sit and blow water all day." Lee shook his head. "So what can I do for you?"

"Don't you believe in simple interest?" Garrus chuckled.

"Oh, I can see that you're trying to leave the port." He shook his head. "You have a pass, otherwise you wouldn't have entered the garage. But the shuttles are not running now, and they are not there. You need a ground vehicle. Right?"

"Right. Can you help us?"

"Sure. If I want to stay out of work." He chuckled softly. "There are beacons on all the cars. The security service will immediately notice if at least one leaves the garage without permission."

A setup... I was upset. I won't be able to get a car... it remains only to raise the "Norm"...

Apparently my face was VERY expressive, because Lilichjerax chuckled and said:

"Don't you have your own car?"

"There is, of course. But she's in the hold of the ship."

"But... I thought you wouldn't mind minor repairs... in the workshops of Hanshan. My guys are experienced, and my hands are growing from where they need to. We'll quickly check, fix, and adjust. It's still a blizzard."

Looking into Lilichierax's sly eyes, I couldn't help but smile broadly and sincerely! Lee is actually an even more good-natured guy than his in-game reflection. And if he couldn't help us according to the canon, then in reality...

"Thank you for the GREAT idea, Lilichierax!"

"I am always happy to help the Council's Spectr's. Especially so much... unusual."

And he was really happy to help us!

I shifted my gaze to Nihlus. There was no need to explain anything. After discussing some technical issues with his subordinates over the communicator, Lee retired to our ship, and Garrus and I returned to the garage.

Nihlus quickly obtained permission from Analeis for stationary repair of the all-terrain vehicle and, on completely legal grounds, drove the car to the workshops of the port of Hanshan. In order to eliminate suspicion, Lee and his team really went through our Mako, removing several damages that were hardly noticeable without serious inspection. We waited patiently for the end of the unscheduled inspection, rested and prepared for the ride along the mountain serpentine in the gathering snowstorm. But finally, the gate in the side wall of the garage swung open, allowing our trusty Mako, driven by Kayden. The car taxied to the garage gate, I gave the order to the soldiers to load into the all-terrain vehicle, and I went to Lee, who was discussing something with an unperturbed Nihlus.

Lee was eager to tell Specter the local gossip. The conversation apparently turned to the matriarch's visit, as I heard the end of the phrase:

"...she flew to the top of 15 before we lost contact with the complex."

"And what are the problems at the Top of 15?" Nihlus asked.

"I don't know." Lee spread his hands. "There's a storm there now, but they're not uncommon here, but satellite communications have never failed so far."

Nihlus and I exchanged glances, which did not go unnoticed. And Lilichierax chuckled:

"The 15th has always had a bad reputation."

Nihlus jerked his head up.

"What exactly was happening on it?"

"No one says what exactly they are doing there." The mechanic replied softly. "But everyone who has been there returns... taciturn."

That's how.

"Stay close to the rocks as you drive." the guy advised. "The road is slippery and treacherous, and it's a long way to fly to the surface of the Aleutian Valley. I don't want to dig your Mako out from under the snow later. After the storm."

"Is the road going high?"

"Yes. They made a nathach trail and reinforced it with supports. And sometimes it crumbles, so you have to repair it. If you want to catch your breath, wait until you reach the tunnels. They are securely fastened. I do not recommend braking on bare ground. Beware of avalanches. They come down often during a storm. If you see an avalanche, turn back, you won't pass anyway."

"Thank you, Lilichierax." I sincerely thanked the good-natured mechanic. "The Turian broke into a smile."

Have a nice trip, Spectr.

The mechanic waved his hand and went into the workshop, whistling to his subordinates: two people and a Turian who were inspecting the all-terrain vehicle before leaving. We boarded the car, and the gates parted, letting us out into the blizzard rolling over Hanshan. The Vershina-15 scientific research complex is exactly fifteen kilometers away. In a straight line.

"Touch it, Kayden. Garrus?"

"Visibility is almost zero." The sniper from the gun turret immediately responded. "Only by instruments."

"Drive slowly." The Geth will most likely be waiting for us.

Kayden nodded. The Mako rolled slowly along a not very wide mountain road. The port gates disappeared in the blizzard almost instantly. There was a viscous silence in the cabin: anxiety and a nagging sense of problems did not allow us to relax.

Lee warned us for a reason. Due to the strong wind at the turn, the Mako was almost blown down the icy slope into the abyss, but Alenko managed to turn off the sloping edge and cling to the rock. After that incident, our biotic was extremely careful. After he calmed down and stopped swearing.

We drove calmly for about ten or fifteen kilometers along the winding road along the mountains, when Tali reported the detection of active targets giving signals like Geth. The lidar turned out to be completely useless in the storm, but the location array was more or less working.

"Garrus!"

"Heard. Visibility is zero." The Turian immediately responded, and the tower came alive.

"Kayden, drive slowly." The Mako started moving and slowly crawled forward, sticking to the rock. There was a deathly silence in the cabin, dispersed only by the rumble of the engine, the rustle of the turning tower and the howling of the wind outside. The markings on the screen were getting closer: a thin, smooth chain before entering another tunnel.

The car suddenly lurched, jerked, and accelerated sharply. There was an explosion a little to the side, and Kayden, swearing through his teeth, spun the steering wheel, turning it toward the rocks. A machine gun rumbled overhead, and a rocket launcher boomed loudly.

"The Geth!"

"Break into the tunnel! It's not enough for these freaks to unleash an avalanche on our heads or collapse the trail!" I shouted.

The running engine roared. The maneuverable all-terrain vehicle literally flew up into the air on small engines, overturning a suddenly blown-up Grizzly that had grown out of a snowstorm, and shot forward.

We flew into the tunnel, knocking down a formation of Geth stormtroopers and quickly leaving the line of attack of the stationary turret. Kayden didn't stop, and Garrus quickly shot the Geth running after the car.

"Pull over!"

Alenko obediently slammed on the brakes.

"We're going back." My voice sounded very loud in the sudden silence. "We must destroy the tower, otherwise it will shoot us on a loop with impunity."

Kayden obediently turned the ROVER around and drove towards the tunnel entrance, stopping before we got to the attack line of the Get tower.

"Tali, can you break it?" The Quarian nodded affirmatively.

"Rex, Tali, Ashley. To the tower. And keep your head down. It is mandatory to take safety cables. Strap yourself aboard the Mako. Rex, you're the most physically powerful in the squad. Make sure the lady doesn't get blown away."

The Krogan grunted and nodded. No one was going to take any chances once again. Ashley, Tali and Rex buckled their carbines on the special handrails on board the ROVER and cautiously moved towards the visible tower, followed by the muzzle of a machine gun.

The Geth tower couldn't shoot itself in the base and only helplessly moved its "snout" while Tali opened the panel and connected to its interior. Literally a minute later, the combat platform, having jerked one last time, finally quieted down, and Tali, muttering something untranslatable in her native language, actively dug into her interior.

"Tali, what are you doing there?"

"Just a minute, Irene!" A gambling voice distorted by the storm came. I'll pull out the memory block! I managed to disable it before it self-destructed.

"Faster! We still have twenty kilometers to go!" Tali did it quickly: pulling out a heavy block, she handed the loot to the Krogan and, holding on to the cable, dived into the tunnel. The fighters returned to the car, Kayden drove on, and Tali immersed herself in studying the new toy.

"The program on this platform is dumb and limited," The Quarian said, "but something may remain in the imperatives. Other than shooting and distinguishing her own from others, she is good for nothing."

The Quarian went to work. I brought up the road map on the omny-tool screen. The next tunnel is five kilometers away.

"Kayden. Drive non-stop. And it doesn't matter what you meet on the way. If we get caught in an avalanche, we're definitely finished. The road will collapse under us... You got it."

Kayden nodded. The edge of the tunnel appeared.

"It's five kilometers to the next one. Garrus, fire at the ready of your choice."

Garrus didn't answer, but I knew he'd heard me.

The Mako left the tunnel and raced forward, constantly turning towards the rocks. The loop of the road was surprisingly narrow in this section, and it was only half a kilometer to the other side of the gorge. A scattering of active points quickly appeared on the screen, a tower came to life overhead, and a rocket launcher boomed. The all-terrain vehicle bounced over a pothole, the wheels screeched, the car jerked sharply to the side, and somewhere behind us there was an explosion. The machine gun started firing. A pause, the launch of a rocket, another, an overheating squeak, the sharp voice of a Turian:

"Kayden, to the right! The tank is at the edge of a bend in the road! Shoot him down! To the right!" The car lurched, veering to the right. Garrus guided with short commands until it sounded:

"Now!"

The Mako jerked sharply to the left, slamming into a walking tank that suddenly appeared out of a snowstorm. Geth was thrown aside by the impact, our car shuddered all over, it skidded, Alenko, cursing, leveled off and drove towards the tunnel that appeared ahead. And behind him, the tower rumbled. The tank slid off the edge of the path, which it had so carelessly approached, and disappeared somewhere into the abyss. Kayden slammed on the brakes: a rocket flew in front of the windshield and whistled somewhere in the blizzard. The machine gun started firing.

"Slow down a bit." Garrus's hoarse voice was lost in the roar of the rocket launcher. "That's it, go ahead."

Some of the notes on the screen went out.

"The tower is ahead."

"See." Biotic replied, circling the smoking Geth tank in an arc.

"There are eight marks ahead." I reported when the locators worked out and brought the information. "Two large ones."

The Mako jerked, skidding away from two rockets and a blue pulse that exploded somewhere on the rocks behind us. The machine gun fired in short, stingy bursts: Garrus mowed down the Geth hiding behind the blue hexagons of the force shields as the rocket launcher rolled away. The click of a reload, the hum of a rocket rushing towards the tilted turret and this time completely silenced. The machine gun rattled again... The ROVER burst into the tunnel, knocking down stormtroopers and a massive geth in dark armor, and drove on without stopping while Garrus calmly shot enemies running after the car.

We reached Peak 15, breaking through from tunnel to tunnel. Twice, small avalanches descended behind us like a white veil, caused by Geth missiles. One day, a piece of road collapsed when the blue pulses of a tank stuck into the supports. There was nowhere else to go back to. And we drove only forward until the tower of the laboratory complex floated out of the snow.

We've arrived.

The Mako stopped at the gate, and Garrus spent another twenty minutes shooting at the Geth who were pulling up to us. Until, finally, all the markings on the locator went out. Only we were left outside the research complex. Turning off the rover's engines, we entered the complex, leaving the faithful Mako in front of the hangar gates blocked by the burnt-out ROVER. Somewhere inside this complex we are waiting for the Geth, the monorail to the station "Cleft", the matriarch Benezia and Queen Rachni. And the most important thing. The coordinates of Saren's base on Vermire, which Benezia knew for sure.

Chapter 19: The Top-15

Vershina-15 greeted us with a dozen Geth in a spacious garage. Fortunately, there were no very fast and extremely deadly ghosts and hunters. The massive juggernaut was shot by Rex, and the change was killed according to an already well-established pattern: our biotics, Liara and Kayden, picked up synthetics hiding behind boxes and lifted them into the air, where they were shot by Garrus and me, as in a shooting gallery. Nihlus and Ashley were covering up in case we didn't notice something.

Now, in the unreal silence of the garage, the familiar Geth seemed like a familiar evil. Synthetics were no longer as feared as before. Their actions were easily predicted, and we didn't expect any special setups from them. Another thing was what was waiting for us in the depths of the complex.

The fighters spread out across the garage. Externally, there is no special damage. The shooting marks are fresh and ours. Apparently, there was no resistance here.

"Tali, look at the gate." The Quarian left Geth's head, shattered by a massive Harpoon bullet, alone and turned her attention to the locked gate. A couple of minutes of work, and the sash trembled, quickly crawled up. The biotics moved the wrecked all-terrain vehicle, and Nihlus drove our Mako into the garage.

"Where did all the staff go?" Ashley asked softly.

"I guess they're already dead." I replied. "We need a plan for the complex. There's a checkpoint behind the garage. At least, it should be."

A wide staircase led from the garage to the main complex, rising in two flights to a wide platform, from where three doors branched off. Two of them were locked, but Tali quickly convinced them to swing open, opening access to small storage rooms partially filled with drawers with various spare parts and useful junk.

"We'll have to check on the way back to see if there's anything interesting." I closed the doors. "Let's move on."

The third door led to a short vestibule, literally four meters long. Two turrets looked down from the ceiling. And they were looking at the doors leading out of the complex.

"Take them off." I nodded at the turrets.

Rex's shotgun roared behind him, and the left turret sparked, sagging limply. The Krogan came up, yanked the cannon off the carriage with one jerk. The second turret suffered the same fate.

"Why are they looking in the wrong direction?" Liara walked around the wreckage of the turret.

"It's more important for them not to let anyone out than not to let anyone in." Garrus replied with a shrug.

Fortunately, the doors did not open automatically, but after touching the sensor, which allowed us to calmly inspect the premises while Tali blocked or unlocked the doors we needed. We didn't find anything interesting at the checkpoint, but the nimble Quarian managed to download the plan of the complex and transfer it to our instruments. Having marked the checked rooms, we went on.

The complex seemed to have died out. No Geth, no Rahni, no staff. No one. There were traces of mayhem in some places, and a couple of times we found torn synthetics and traces of green insect blood, but not a single organic body. Only robots. It was as if the Rachni, having defeated their enemies, had stolen the bodies for their own purposes.

The elevator to the upper floors was located in the far wing behind the administrative offices. Here, the traces of the pogrom were more clearly visible: potholes from gunfire, green, red and blue bloodstains, spent thermoclips by overturned tables and a couple of broken geths. But again, no bodies.

"Who attacked them?" Liara carefully touched the green pool of blood with the toe of her shoe. "I do not know whose blood it is."

"Apparently, the experiment got out." Nihlus crouched by the spot, gazing intently into the viscous, pungent-smelling liquid. "The blood hasn't completely clotted yet." The armored finger pointed at the blue puddle. "The attack happened very recently. The complex did not have time to freeze after the emergency shutdown of the heating."

"Why turn off the heating?" Kayden asked, carefully avoiding the deep scratches on the metal floor.

"It's minus forty outside." Nihlus shrugged his shoulders. "At this temperature, most biological organisms will either die, or hibernate, or simply lose activity."

"Tali, is there a response from the local VI?" I asked.

The Quarian shook her head.

"There are no signals." a diagram of the complex has appeared above the omny-tool. "This is where the core is located. It can be restarted manually."

"How to get there?" Take the elevator up three levels.

"Lead the way."

A wide semi-cargo elevator obediently lifted us to the desired level, creaking slightly and swaying suspiciously. Somewhere on the edge of hearing, there was a rustling and clacking of claws on metal: the rakhni settled into the slowly freezing complex.

"Rir."

A clear thought roused the mental. I looked up, meeting the wary gaze of green eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Rachni?"

"They are the ones. They're swarming. They're doing something."

"It's getting cold in the complex. They're looking for warmer places."

"Does the cold slow them down?"

"It's hard to say. I'm not a xenobiologist. I've never been interested in this species." the Turian confessed.

The elevator jerked and stopped, interrupting our conversation, and the doors swung open with a rustle. The rattling and rustling abruptly subsided. The Krogan came out first, cautiously pointing the muzzle of a powerful shotgun at every suspicious rustle and knock. Nihlus and Ashley followed with assault rifles. Behind them are Kayden and Liara, wrapped in the blue glow of active biotics. Garrus, Tali, and I brought up the rear. "Harpoons" have been removed: in the narrow corridors of the complex, a sniper rifle is of little use.

The feeling of someone else's attention hit my nerves. I stopped abruptly, giving Rex a sharp sense of unease. The Krogan immediately froze, looking around warily. We've been spotted. Such attention is characteristic of unreasonable or conditionally intelligent beings. This is how a predator looks at its prey, aiming for a throw.

We've been spotted.

Rex nodded slowly and continued moving. We walked in an extended chain. The corridor is very narrow, and the two armored men are already cramped. Ahead, the green panel on the oval doors flickered invitingly. Rex approached, and the doors automatically swung open, allowing us to enter a spacious three-tiered observation gallery. The door slammed shut behind us, and the panel changed color to scarlet with a soft squeak: Tali had blocked the doors. Whatever's going on in the ventilation shafts, we don't need any sudden surprises in the back. There was a fight in the gallery not so long ago. There were traces of explosions and dents from biotics on the walls, three double-glazed windows were knocked out, and snow vividly covered the blood-covered floor. A quick check revealed five Geth pieces that had been torn to pieces. There are clearly visible bloody dragging marks on the floor. On the far wall, near the doors to small offices, there is a green smear on the wall floor.

"The rocket was covered." Krogan said dully, examining the green trash.

"Oh, the Great One..." Liara's voice in the headphones was interrupted by a strange convulsive swallowing. "Take a look..."

A moment later, Kayden's muffled cursing rang out. After exchanging glances with Rex, we ran down the stairs. The soldiers crowded at the turn of the flight of stairs, looking at something under the stairs. A pale-faced Kayden stepped back, allowing me to see... eaten bones, smeared with red and blue blood.

"Now it's clear where the staff went." I stared at the bones with a kind of unhealthy interest. "They were simply devoured."

Liara shuddered.

"Trio. Two human and a Turian." Garrus poked the dice. "We ate it recently. The flesh is softened." Strong fingers easily removed a piece of meat from a rib bone fragment. Ashley swallowed hard. "It was like being treated with weak acid. Or gastric juice."

The Turian dropped the bone, got up, walked over to the snowdrift and wiped his fingers on the snow.

"There are no teeth marks. It's definitely some kind of animal. Strong enough and large enough to break bones, capable of assimilating equally well..." Garrus paused, glancing at the Asari's pale face. "both types of protein."

"Do you think this is the stuff that was smeared on the wall?" Rex pointed in the direction of the spot.

"Quite possibly. The beast is definitely not alone here." Garrus glanced at Liara. "A colony? Possib..."

A booming crash interrupted the Turian. The soldiers instantly raised their weapons. A high-pitched squeak, metal screeching, blows... The ventilation grate fell out, and two people fell into one of the offices... creatures. Tall, about one and a half meters, a long flexible body encased in crimson-red chitin, turning into light beige platinum on the belly, four thin paws ending in sharp spikes, a flexible neck, two upper limbs-whips with some kind of "buds" at the end...

"What the hell is this?" Ashley whispered.

"Rachni!" Rex growled.

"But they're destroyed!" Liara stared in amazement at the dark red creatures screeching behind the sturdy glass.

"Apparently, not to the end." I leaned into the optics, examining the monsters that Saren had bred. "They're really strong creatures. Are they poisonous?"

"They're poisonous." Garrus replied. "They spit toxins from the upper appendages. These are ordinary fighters. They are fast, dangerous, strong, and stupid." Seeing the surprised looks, Garrus chuckled. "I was interested once. Rex, why aren't you talking?"

The Krogan just spat.

"Damn the bugs. Grebenchy is right. They are fast, strong, dangerous, and spit toxins. Drones explode if you get close. Blood is toxic. It corrodes like a weak acid. Shields don't hold this stuff at all, just armor."

"Do they reproduce quickly?"

"Very quickly."

The bugs were pushing behind the doors, but they couldn't get out. Either the panel was jammed, or it was just closed, but the automatic doors would not open, and the rahcni only whistled and screeched, scratching behind the sturdy glass.

"Now it is clear what was done in this laboratory." Ashley stared intently at the monsters whose civilization had been destroyed before humans had soared into the skies of their planet.

"Won't they get out?"

Tali activated the omny-tool.

"No."

Thirst and hunger flashed from somewhere behind. I spun around, running up the flight of stairs, peering into the darkened room. It came from somewhere here... Hunger will increase. I felt something like vague echoes of thoughts. Fast, messy, almost elusive. And there were A LOT of them!

"Behind you!"

A grate in the floor flew up with a crash, releasing a crowd of small, barely a meter tall, green creatures. The workers are rachni!

"rachni!"

The fighters woke up from their stupor. Rifles rattled, Rex's shotgun rumbled, and the singularity hummed.

"Don't let them get too close!" Rex barked. "They're exploding!"

The bullets tore through the chitinous shells, piercing through, but the creatures were purling and purling with some kind of maniacal thirst to get to us. They died fast, but damn, there are so many of them!

"Back! From the stairs!" I shouted, shooting down a wave of creatures, preventing them from approaching Kayden and Garrus.

Another grate bulged, releasing three red rachni. Garrus jumped over the railing, ran to the middle of the gallery, laid out the Harpoon and clung to the sight. A shot rang out, the rachni soldier jerked, screamed, and the second shot took off the insect's head. Nihlus threw a grenade. Undermining. Fragments of green bodies scattered across the room of the abandoned office, splattering the armored glass. One of the green creatures ran up to Ashley, twitched, swelled, but the discharge of the shotgun blew the drone off the site, preventing it from exploding. A "Harpoon" boomed loudly. The second red beetle jerked its entire body and went limp. Pause. A second booming shot, and the third red soldier collapsed on the landing, shot almost through the head.

"Garrus! Behind you!"

The sniper spun around, but the small green stuff managed to burst, spraying the Turian's armor with a light green caustic filth. Garrus instinctively managed to put out his hand and rifle, covering his unprotected head.

The wave of rachni has dried up. We quickly finished off the last drones and retreated to the broken windows. Garrus cursed as he wiped the acrid stuff off his armor with snow, dropping the stained rifle into a snowdrift. Nihlus walked around the corpses, checking for survivors. Rex stood at the edge of the stairs with Liara, keeping an eye on the creatures twitching behind the glass.

"Did it hurt?" I asked Garrus, standing so that I could see the ventilation outlet on the upper level.

"A little bit." The angry Turian growled, cleaning the toxin from the weapon and examining the rifle. "damn it! Rin, I'm left without a "Harpoon"! This stuff ruined the optics." he raised his weapon, peered through the scope, and spat. "Visibility is zero."

I took the sniper rifle off the grips and handed it to the frustrated Turian.

"Take mine."

Garrus nodded gratefully, took the weapon, checked the condition of the thermoclips and ammunition, switched the Harpoon to antipersonnel bullets.

"Tali!" The Quarian turned to me. "Can you let these two out?"

"Yes."

"Let me out."

The indicator on the door changed color to green, and two Rachni rushed towards us along the glazed corridor. Garrus dropped to one knee and positioned the rifle in the crook of his elbow. Rahni jumped out onto the landing, there was a booming shot, the creature stumbled, jerked and fell to the floor with its head completely blown off. The second monster braked sharply, showing at least some kind of brains and self-preservation instinct, but did not have time to stop and flew into the sniper's kill zone. Shot. Rahcni fell to the floor and kicked his legs. Garrus adjusted the optics settings, raised his rifle, and put a bullet into the twitching beetle.

"Tali, where is that core?"

"Behind those doors." The Quarian gestured toward the locked exit from the gallery. "Down to the level, and there will be an entrance to the technical floor."

"Let's go." I've laid out the Predator.

A short vestibule and another automatic door with a strange symbol and the number 323 were waiting for us behind the doors, behind which the elevator we were looking for was found. This time it's a passenger one. The cabin was a little cramped for eight armored fighters, but we somehow squeezed in. A short trip down and there it is, another corridor lit by dim emergency panels. Another door kindly swung open, and we entered a small technical room filled with incomprehensible junk and VI access terminals.

The terminal was not working. When we tried to turn it on, a soft female voice pleased us with the news:

"A critical launch error. The virtual intelligence interface is disabled. Manual loading is required."

"Why is it that when we need something, it either doesn't work, or we don't have access, or it needs to be repaired?" I grumbled, turning off the holographic interface.

Nihlus chuckled softly.

"This is fate."

"Very funny. You do realize that you'll have to run it manually, right?"

His partner nodded, keeping his eyes on the turn in the corridor.

The fighters entered the room, spread out and quickly checked the room. Drones screamed shrilly somewhere around the bend, and Rex cursed, taking down three green creatures hiding behind the access block to the VI in a couple of shots.

"A little dirty trick... Why is it so dark in here?"

Garrus waved the massive pistol vaguely, pointing somewhere at the ceiling.

Backup power system. The main reactor was apparently shut down when the alarm was sounded at the complex. I have a suspicion that we will have to go and turn it on." I grumbled. "Manually. Rex, what is it?"

"A locked door and a core."

"Tali, close this door and see what's wrong with the core."

The Quarian nodded and clacked her instruments. The indicator on the front door turned red, and we all fell into a fairly spacious room in the building: a circular hall covered with narrow black panels, in the center of which stood the core block and a small technical elevator platform.

While Tali was fixing VI's brain, we were frankly bored. I didn't feel any fever, it was quiet and cold in the complex. Only the beeping of the instrumentron and the barely audible cursing of the Quarian dispersed the deathly silence, and a lamp crackled somewhere near the ceiling.

"Ready!"

Tali went up to our level and turned on the VI. A pink hologram of a human woman appeared on the elevator platform, painfully reminiscent of Avina Citadel.

"Virtual intelligence is reactivated."

I stepped aside, gesturing for my colleague to chat with the computer. Nihlus grimaced, but stood in front of the pink hologram.

"Are you VI, the manager of the complex?" The Turian asked dryly.

"Right. The system responds to the name of "Mira". Let me ask yours."

"The spectr of Nihlus Krayk."

"One moment, please." There was a brief pause as VI scanned the sentient in front of her and checked his credentials. "The powers of the Council's spectr have been confirmed. You are allowed special access to all systems. Please note that privileged access is required to access corporate secrets."

"Who has this access?" Nihlus asked calmly.

"Employees of the Bayneri Helix company who hold senior positions. As well as scientific staff of category A and E." VI kindly explained. "This system is ready to process requests. You can contact Mira through any of the Vertex-15's holographic interfaces."

"We need to find Matriarch Benezia. Where is it located?"

"Lady Benezia took the monorail to the auxiliary laboratory of the station "Cleft"." VI responded immediately.

The hologram blinked, and VI's voice said:

"To the attention of users! Currently, the monorail system is not in operation!"

"What is the situation in the complex?" Nihlus asked.

"One moment, please. Diagnostics are underway." a pause and an expressionless reply: "Critical failure: The main reactor is shut down due to emergency safety measures. A manual restart is required." Pause. "Critical failure: ground lines of communication are disconnected. The monorail has been discontinued. End of the message." VI's voice perked up. "Would you like to enter an additional query?"

"Why is the main reactor shut down?"

"Accidental contamination of the laboratory." The pink lady politely pleased us.

"Why does the main reactor shut down during an emergency contamination of the laboratory?" Nihlus patiently asked the question in an even, calm voice, although his fingers twitched nervously.

"It is assumed that biological pollutants will die or lose their activity due to a drop in temperature." VI said.

Nihlus took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, venting anger and irritation into his mind. Ashley snorted:

"Do we turn off the heating and wait for what escaped to freeze and die on its own?"

"Somewhere like that." Garrus shook his head.

"What needs to be done to restore the power supply?" Nihlus asked patiently.

"It is necessary to open the helium-3 supply valves. This can be done using the controls of the reactor itself."

"What are the landlines?"

"Ground lines connect the main Vershina-15 complex and my central block with auxiliary sub-complexes and risk laboratories. This provides employees with remote access to databases and my functionality without having to leave the lab. If an emergency occurs in the risk laboratories, the cables are automatically disconnected."

"How do I connect it back?"

"The router is located on the roof of the operating building. Turn it on and the system will reboot automatically."

"It's clear. What kind of creatures are these?"

"I'm sorry, Spectr. This information requires privileged access." Mira said sweetly.

Nihlus spat.

"End of the session."

VI politely said goodbye and hung up.

"Which was exactly what had to be proved. Turn everything on manually." I sighed. "Let's go to the roof first. It's supposed to be cold out there, and there shouldn't be any bugs. Theoretically. Tali, which way is the roof?"

Instead of answering, the console on the door behind us blinked and turned green.

On the way to the roof, we really didn't meet anyone, and the temperature dropped significantly. The router was located in a part of the roof protected from wind and snow, right at the base of the node subsystems, which looked like floor-to-ceiling cast metal cylinders extending into hexagonal sockets. There were no wires, boxes, unnecessary terminals, or anything else. There are only six groups of three subsystems, and there's a control terminal on the far wall.

On the frozen site, one stiffened corpse of a drone was found, climbing in a futile attempt to keep warm under a massive metal cylinder, and it just died there. Tali quickly rebooted the system, and the huge metal cylinders lit up with lights and hummed low. Mira appeared over the activated terminal and immediately reported:

"The connection has been restored. Processing new data. To the attention of users! Connection to laboratory services is not possible!"

Ignoring the pink lady with the good news, we drove back. Turn on the reactor. As far as I remember, there were Geth, and a lot of them! What will happen in reality... We'll find out now.

"Damn it..." Garrus shivered. "It's so cold in here..."

Nihlus nodded in agreement and pointed at the elevator activation plate. The doors closed, and the booth slid down.

"Hah! You've relaxed, Vakarian, in the warmth and comfort of the Citadel."

The sniper glanced sideways at the pleased Krogan and shivered.

"Turians don't like the cold, Rex."

"And people, too," Ashley added faintly, agreeing with Garrus completely for the first time.

The elevator stopped and let us out into a corridor of the same type. After checking the map, we drove to the reactor. Turn it on faster, get off this planet faster! Apparently, similar thoughts were wandering in the minds of my fighters, as we ran through the hall with the VI core, casually shooting the rachni soldier who fell out of the technical manhole at us. In the complex, the temperature confidently exceeded minus two and successfully dropped further.

The first sign of the Geth presence greeted us at the exit of the next elevator: static cut off the tactical locator in the armor, the connection was filled with a crackle. The fighters switched their weapons to armor-piercing bullets.

Ahead of us was a short straight corridor and the entrance to the control room of the reactor unit. According to the map, this is a huge sixty-meter room with four levels: a common control room on the third level and two technical rooms on the fourth. The second level is the technical ramps that give engineers access to the reactor units. The first is the base of the reactor array, and access to it is possible only through a special gateway system. However, our goal is the control room on the third level, from which you can access the platform to the manual control panel.

"Tali, lock all the doors in the reactor room." I said softly. "Ready?"

About fifteen seconds later, the Quarian nodded sharply.

"Block it."

The indicator flashed red.

"Is everything blocked?"

A short nod.

"Let us into the control room."

The door hissed open. In a small rectangular room, a geth-stormtrooper was waiting for us, who caught a single volley from a shotgun and two rifles.

"Clear."

Rex entered first, followed by the others. They didn't block the doors. You never know how the battle will go, the escape routes should be clear.

"Is there something?"

Garrus stared intently at the huge room through the sturdy armored glass. Tali connected to the terminal.

"I see the Geth." Garrus's vibrant voice sounded dry. Hunters. There's one on the wall opposite. Another one is just above the ramp. Stormtroopers on the left ramp. Trio."

"The juggernaut is on the right." added Nihlus. "The ghost. I'm not sure, he left quickly in disguise."

"If there is one hunter, then there is more. Knock out the ghost as soon as it appears. He is a priority target. Are there snipers?"

The fighters shrugged, and the Krogan spread his arms.

"Tali, open the right door."

The indicator blinked and the door obediently swung open. The Geth creaked. I poked my head out and barely had time to dive back in when the familiar red death ray flashed over my head.

"The ghost on the wall." Garrus dropped to one knee, raised his rifle, peered through the scope and swung sharply to the right, peering out from behind the door and immediately fired. Rex yanked it back. Bullets and a red ray hit the wall.

"Three ghosts, four hunters." Garrus reported calmly, fiddling with something in the scope. "The juggernaut is coming."

Standing up, the Turian abruptly surfaced and fired two shots with a doublet and immediately dived back into the room. A moment later, a bright scarlet ray pierced the place where his head had been.

"Two ghosts and four hunters." The sniper stated dispassionately, changing the type of bullet.

Damn it! My hands were shaking. Shields won't absorb the ghost's shot, some of it will pass anyway. Garrus is without a helmet. One hit and...

The footsteps of the running juggernaut sounded. We raised our weapons. A moment of waiting, and then the synthetic appeared in the doorway to catch the combined volley of a shotgun and five rifles. The shields were blown away instantly, and the geth only managed to creak something before falling to the floor.

"Tali, open the left door."

The indicator has changed color. I raised my rifle. The doors slid up and down, revealing the Geth milling around the door. Touching the trigger plate, the rifle jerked, spitting out a short burst. A singularity flew past me, making my hair stand on end. The stormtroopers were lifted into the air. A moment of pause, a queue. A shotgun rumbled nearby, rifles rattled. The singularity worked out, the Geth fell to the floor. The roar of a shotgun, the last functioning Geth collapsed backwards and did not get up. A harpoon boomed loudly behind him. The whistling of the beam, Garrus's muffled cursing.

"One ghost, four hunters." a short report.

I leaned against the wall and peered around the doorjamb. Quiet? A sudden movement somewhere to the right. The hunter! A short burst of fire slashed at the nimble creature, knocking it off the ceiling, and "Krayz" Nihlusa chattered nearby. The hunter fell silent.

"Minus the hunter." I said.

"A ghost jumped towards you." Garrus's vibrant voice sounded strangely muffled.

As if to confirm his words, a scarlet ray flashed over my head. That's a well-aimed brute! A black shadow darted somewhere to the right.

"He jumped back."

Two shots from the harpoon boomed loudly.

"Minus the hunter."

I moved away from the left door, letting Nihlus and Kayden pass. Rex stood next to Garrus and somehow looked hard at the Turian changing the thermal clip in the rifle. A viscous blue drop fell onto the metal floor, sliding from the right elbow of the kneeling Turian.

"Garrus, are you hurt?"

"He grazed my shoulder." he replied indifferently, raising his weapon.

"Treat the wound." I took the Harpoon out of his hands, cutting off his attempt to argue with a gesture.

Garrus blinked, nodded slowly, and took a step back. I leaned into the scope, quickly peeked over the edge. Ghost... Where are you? The red flash is slightly to the right and higher. I raise the rifle sharply and shoot at the movement and immediately fall down, adjust the scope, shoot. A deadly ray flies over his head, and the ghost leaps away with one ragged leap. The quiet hiss of reloading, catching a vague black shadow flashing red, shot, shot. The ghost falls down somewhere, and I barely manage to stagger back. The beam passes close to the head, incinerating the hair.

"Minus the ghost."

There was silence in response. I turn around and meet the heavy gaze of bright blue eyes. There is a frightening silence in emotions. Rex is standing next to the tense Turian, staring at me just as intently. What are they doing? Without getting up, I silently hand the rifle to Garrus. He picks it up, folds it and puts it in the clips.

"Never! So! Don't! Do it!" Garrus growled clearly, typing out every word.

A short queue, a high-pitched squeal from geth, and the long-awaited:

"Clear!"

The interference disappeared, and the armor's locator started working. Ashley and Kayden slipped out onto the ramp and ran to check the area. Liara followed them a little late. A minute and Ashley's voice:

"Clear."

Nihlus came up, jerked me to my feet, shamelessly grabbed my chin with his fingers and turned my head slightly to one side, examining the slight ray burn on my temple and singed hair.

Kayden and Ashley returned to the control room. They saw our silent composition. Surprise flooded my mind generously, clogging up even the seething emotions of the Turians, which I didn't even try to sort out and analyze.

"Something happened?" The man asked cautiously, looking suspiciously at the evil Nihlus.

Instead of answering, the Spectr just moved away a little, showing biotic my singed face. And he pressed it dryly.

"The ghost ray."

"Almost doesn't count." I chuckled, carefully unclenching his armored fingers. "Garrus, how bad is the wound?"

"The beam pierced through his shoulder." he replied, slowly calming down. "I smeared it with panacelin."

Panacelin in the form of an ointment was much more concentrated than in the form of an injection, but it acted only at the site of application. I took out the injector and handed it to our only sniper. Garrus squinted at my kind face and didn't dare to argue, but just used it for its intended purpose.

"Tali, start the reactor. Ashley, Rex, cover her. You never know what..."

The Quarian ran across the bridge to the massive column of the reactor unit, Ashley and Rex followed. Liara looked at me strangely, looking from me to Garrus and back again. There is a belated fear in emotions. Is he afraid for us? It's so late.

Nearby, armor clips clicked softly, metal rustled and creaked, and something wet touched his temple. I turned my gaze to Nihlus, surprised to see him silently smearing my burn with panacelin under Garrus' gaze.

"It's just a slight burn." In response, there is a heavy gaze of green eyes and a complete disregard for my words, which, coupled with a suspicious silence in my mind, is somewhat... scarecrow. Nihlus finished smearing the clear ointment, swirled the jar, rubbed the remnants over his palm and pulled on an armored glove.

"And what does that mean?" I sent a question, looking into the green eyes.

"Back to the ship, I'll tell you." an immediate and promising response came. "I guess Garrus will add if I forget about something."

Uh... I have some vague doubts... I didn't pry into his mind, but the Turian turned away, breaking eye contact and walked over to the VI terminal.

The reactor hummed sharply, the lamps glowed brighter, and the previously inactive equipment started working. Nihlus touched the terminal, bringing up a pink hologram of VI. I wonder who was senile enough to make a PINK woman as an avatar of virtual intelligence?

This electronic beast of the World, having confirmed the launch of the reactor, informed us in the same sweet voice:

"There is an infection in the monorail cars." Holy shit! Can we just get to this fucking Crevasse without taking on all the problems of this complex?

"What does it mean "there is an infection"?" Nihlus asked dryly, squinting at my kind face.

"Dangerous biological substances have entered the monorail cleaning chamber." Mira explained willingly. "For the safety of the staff, the station has been blocked."

Nihlus silently closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, and exhaled just as slowly with a low growl.

"Unlock the cleaning chamber." The Turian ordered.

"To the attention of users! There is contamination in the cleaning chamber. Entry to the camera is not recommended."

Garrus shook his head, glaring at the pink hologram with distaste.

"How to get rid of pollution?"

"The camera is equipped with an emergency system that supplies plasma at a temperature of 5,000 degrees Kelvin. It is able to eliminate any possible contamination." VI explained, and relief flashed through Nihlus' emotions.

"How do I activate the system?"

"The control of the emergency system is located at the security post next to the cleaning chamber." Mira explained. Pause, blink of the hologram, and... "To the attention of users! The emergency system is out of order."

I heard Nihlus gritting his teeth. Garrus gave a muffled, rumbling laugh. Rex shook his head.

"Like. Her. Fix it?" The slowly beastly Turian asked clearly.

"There was a hardware failure in the system management." Mira replied, and Nihlus flared up with anger. "Repairs are possible on site using standard omny-tool tools."

"At least something good." The Krogan growled.

"We don't have time!" Nihlus growled. "Lift the ban and open the doors!"

"Acknowledged, Spectr. Protection is disabled. Your safety does not fall under my jurisdiction."

"The session is over!"

Mira obediently went out. Nihlus rubbed his comb, slowly calming down.

"This is not an emergency security system, but a system of "get a minor repair team"! Specter grumbled."

"Sometimes it seems to me that VI won't let us on the monorail until we fix this fucking complex and do a general cleaning." I added. "Tali, look at the map where this cleaning chamber is."

"The entrance is opposite through the technical room of the VI core." the Quarian replied after a short delay.

"We're going back."

On the way back, a Rahni soldier fell out of the ventilation on us, but was knocked into the wall with a generous kick from Rex and shot with a shotgun. Judging by the simmering discontent, the Krogan still hadn't let off steam. It's not enough for him, damn it! Nihlus walked to my right, glancing with displeasure at my singed face. Garrus walked between Ashley and Kayden, wincing painfully from the bullet holes in his shoulder, which was hastily regenerating under the influence of panacelin. Bad. Garrus is the only sniper in the squad. I'm not up to his level, and I never will be. Nihlus has never been a sniper. Rex... Rex is a Stormtrooper, and that says it all. Ashley is with sniper rifles on "you", preferring a shotgun and an assault rifle. Liara and Kayden are biotics. Tali is only good with a pistol and explosives.

"Here?" Nihlus pointed the muzzle at the door.

Tali nodded.

A short straight corridor led us to another elevator, which took us down a level. Another short corridor of the same type led to the desired cleaning chamber and checkpoint. Where we found two corpses of Salarians and a crowd of Rachni behind glass.

"Tali, turn on the cleaning."

The beep of an instrumentron, the girl's finger touched a pair of buttons, and a fiery hell opened up behind the glass, blinding us for a moment. The bugs burned up instantly.

"Cool..." Kayden glanced suspiciously at the terminal. "Maybe it's worth disabling this cleaning. Somehow..."

"Don't you want to share Rachni's fate?" I smiled knowingly. "It's a sound idea. Tali, block those flamethrowers out of harm's way. And then, who knows how they can be shortened."

Tali's fingers fluttered over the keyboard.

"Ready!"

"Are the doors unlocked?"

"Yes."

Despite the confidence in the Quarian's voice, we passed through this red-hot vestibule with caution and VERY quickly! It's a creepy feeling... Like in a crematorium... from inside the furnace. We greeted the icy, frozen corridor with a collective sigh of relief and stomped to the monorail platform. VI didn't bother us anymore, and thank all the gods! We've had enough of minor repairs in combat conditions!

A pot-bellied monorail trailer was waiting for us on the platform, which was slowly being swept away by snow, silence and no problems. Of all the control levers in the car, there was only one small terminal with one single function: to run a pre-programmed program and send the trailer along a single route. The fighters settled comfortably on the wide benches, and Nihlus started the train. The lock on the door turned red, the monorail moved smoothly and raced through the blizzard to the final station, the risk laboratory "Cleft".

Chapter 20: The Crevasse Station

The monorail slowly rolled up to the platform, smoothly slowed down and stopped, swaying slightly. The small train station was deathly silent. Snowflakes were slowly whirling, swept by the wind through the broken glass, frost stung my cheeks and chilled my throat when I inhaled, an explosion stain darkened against the wall, a spent thermoclip lay by the benches. That's all. No sign of any survivors. The far door leading inside the station glowed with a green indicator light on the panel.

The snow creaked faintly under his armored soles as Garrus stopped nearby, warily scanning the deserted train station over the muzzle of his rifle.

"Clear."

I closed my eyes, starting the scan. In confined spaces, I was able to sense sentients within a radius of about three hundred to five hundred meters, but now that was enough.

"There are reasonable people nearby. A lot. About two dozen. Maybe three." Meeting the green eyes, I added: "The matriarch is nearby. I feel the presence of an extremely powerful biotic and a strong passive mentalist. I guess that's how Queen Rachni feels. Both are no more than half a kilometer away."

Nihlus nodded silently, making it clear that he understood me. They looked at me a little strangely, but no one argued. Hiding the gift of mentalism won't be relevant after meeting Benezia: I won't be able to interfere with her mind unnoticeably, and I won't try. It's time to start getting the fighters used to my oddities.

We crossed the station quickly. The automatic doors obediently swung open as we approached, admitting us into a short corridor of the already familiar appearance, which ended with locked doors.

"Tali."

The Quarian tapped the omny-tool panel and frowned.

"Forcibly blocked."

"Can you open it?"

"Yes, now."

The girl took a surprisingly long time - a minute and a half, but with a soft beep, the indicator changed color to green, and the doors swung open, taking us into a small square room... It was almost completely blocked in half by a homemade barricade made of welded crates, from behind which unfriendly men in armor looked at us.

"Are there any living ones?" Nihlus asked softly.

"Don't shoot!" A thunderous voice stopped the fighters, who had already raised their weapons. "Who are you?"

"The spectr of the Council and its squad." Nihlus replied dryly, however, without sticking his head out from behind the door.

"How did you get here?" Nihlus flared with annoyance. What kind of stupid question is that? How-how...

"We arrived by monorail!"

"The monorail is disabled." the captain answered reasonably.

"Well, we've turned it on!" The Turian growled, slowly growing furious. "Along with the reactor, ground lines of communication and the Mira!"

"Come out and show yourself."

Nihlus slowly entered the room. Glancing at the soldiers behind the barricade, the colleague nodded slightly, indicating that everything was in order, and lowered the rifle muzzle to the floor, however, without switching the weapon to a non-combat position.

"Lower your weapon." a human fighter in light gray armor came out from behind the barricade. "Captain Ventralis." he introduced himself, slightly bowing his head in greeting.

"The spectr of Nihlus Krayk."

"What business brought you to the "Crevasse"?"

"Citadel affairs." My colleague replied not very politely.

"We were not informed about the arrival of the Spectr."

"I arrived AFTER the Vershina-15 complex lost contact." cut off the Nihlus. "It is quite logical that you were not informed about our arrival!"

Ventralis grimaced, glaring at the tall Turian. Yes, Noveria is outside the jurisdiction of the Citadel Council, yes, the Spectres' powers are not so comprehensive here, but... there is always this "but". The Special Tactical Intelligence Corps is not an organization that is worth getting into trouble with at all. Even outside the Citadel's Space... Especially being outside the Citadel Space! The SPECTR has long arms, and its employees have long memories... and few people would dare to blame a SPECTR operative for an unnecessary, uninteresting corpse. This particular Spectr was in a state of barely controlled rage, which was perfectly visible. Wisely, the captain decided not to seek unnecessary adventures and not to provoke conflict from scratch.

"We are ready to cooperate with the SPECTR operatives." Ventralis replied peaceably. "But do you understand that the company's secrets must remain secrets?"

And it was necessary for Rahni to stumble into the room at that very moment, breaking through the somehow welded grate! Nihlus spun around at the noise, raised his rifle, and fired a long burst of antipersonnel bullets into the red Rachni soldier who had not had time to stand up. The creature was literally torn to pieces! Rex's shotgun rattled, rifles rattled. Three rachni died before they could get back on their paws. The soldiers behind the barricade did not fire a single shot.

Nihlus, smiling wryly, which is quite a painted Turian face... It looked like a specific clan tattoo, very reminiscent of a whitish skull... it was creepy, I changed the thermoclip and asked mockingly:

"These secrets? NO, I HAVEN'T SEEN IT! AND HE DIDN'T EVEN RECOGNIZE rahni!"

Ventralis closed his eyes wearily, ran an armored palm over his face, which was haggard with fatigue, and looked resignedly at the brazenly laughing Rex and Garrus, at my pleased face, and at Liara's embarrassed muzzle... He sighed... and he just gave up on us.

"Who are you such an ulcer at, colleague?" I asked with a grin, watching with interest as the captain's face fell.

"My beloved mentor!" Nihlus growled, flaring with rage and pent-up pain. "Captain Ventralis! We are not interested in the secrets of your company, as long as they remain secrets and do not run around the complex in large packs, devouring your subordinates and interfering with my work. Since you've taken the Rachni out and allowed them to leave the risk lab, please clean up after yourself. Otherwise, I have to report it... To bring the incident to the Building and initiate an investigation into the articles "Breeding dangerous creatures" and "Experiments on an intelligent species". You have a decade. After this time, a SPECTR ship will arrive on Noveria and conduct a sweep of the territory to prevent the spread of a species dangerous to the galactic community. Have I explained the situation clearly?"

"Quite." Ventralis replied dryly.

"Fine. Information about the incident has already been sent to the Corpus." SPECTR was pleased with his. "It doesn't matter if they get my confirmation or not. The cleanup ship will arrive anyway."

Captain fat understood perfectly well: getting rid of the unexpectedly drawn Spectr is not only useless, but also simply dangerous. If the Special Corps can still close its eyes to messing with rachni, then they will definitely not forgive the murder of the Spectrum and will shake out their whole soul.

"What are you interested in?"

"The matriarch of Benezia." Nihlus answered laconically.

"Lady Benezia left before the attack began and has not contacted us yet." Ventralis reported, clearly hinting that the Asari in question could have already glued the flippers together.

"Oh, don't worry." Nihlus bared his teeth unpleasantly. "The matriarch is alive and well."

"I can't give you full access to all of the Crevasse's risk labs." the captain reported honestly. "Just one. Find out where you need a pass, and I'll give it to you."

Nihlus chuckled and nodded, clearly understanding exactly what the captain had said to him. As they say, your problems don't bother us! If you find a place to move it, I'll skip it. If you make a mistake, that's your problem. Is he taking such petty revenge for his ruined nerves or for his trampled pride?

"Come on in. Ask people around. Maybe someone can tell me where Lady Benezia is right now."

The soldiers stood aside to let us through the barricade. Tired humans, Turians, and Salarians watched us go with heavy and indifferent stares. They've had a hard time here, but... but they didn't make me feel sorry or want to help. They knew where they were going to serve. They knew what to expect and what situations they were hired for. However, as practice has shown, they were not ready for what they were hired for. As always, when the next creation of geniuses escapes from genetics or chimerology. The little animals turned out to be much more dangerous and smarter than expected, the fighters were scared and not ready to attack the spiky-toothy-clawed creature, and as a result - another branch of a техногенного or magical nightmare. In my memory, there was only one exception, when the soldiers guarding the laboratory of a truly brilliant magician of life, a chimerologist, were able to quickly grind ALL the rubbish that he had done into a bloody mess. With huge losses. But they could. And then they didn't even let all this joy rise in the form of undead. True professionals. However, then my incarnation lasted only a year, and ended in the very laboratory when I volunteered to initiate the ritual of the collapse of the complex. What's it to me? I'll get over it in another world. I completed my task: the breakthrough of the creatures did not go into the world, so... I can keep going, because I have no desire to live in that reality.

Do I want to live in THIS reality? Yes! I want to! There are people here whom I would like to see around. There are those I want to save. There's only one thing left: to do what I came into this world to do. Change the logical outcome. None of the three "canonical" solutions to the problem suits me. We need to come up with something... something else. And I had an idea HOW to do it and WHAT it would take. And Matriarch Benezia is the first but important part of my plan.

Inside, there was a tart despondency and senseless anger, a light halo of despair and hopelessness. Tired faces with a stamp of despair. Reasonable people sitting indifferently on chairs, staring blindly into eternity. Angry and annoyed fighters. The frightened scientists. It's a lovely cocktail! A life-affirming atmosphere of intelligent people who are ready to fight for their lives! The courage and thirst for life is just splashing over the edge! Especially those two over there, huddled in a corner.

"Disgusting." Garrus muttered dully, glancing contemptuously at the figures of the local luminaries of science.

Nihlus winced painfully. As a side effect of the strengthened shield and my intervention, which structured and strengthened the defense mechanisms of the mind, multiplied by the slowly activating biotics, the Turian began to show weak empathy. He was perfectly aware of this cocktail of feelings and emotions. They were too intense to pass by his attention.

"Do you like it?"

Garrus glanced at me and shrugged.

"How can you bring yourself to such a state?" The Turian disgustedly pointed to the huddled Salarian, who was staring at us in fright and emitting mental animal terror and bright bursts of panic at every suspicious noise in the ventilation.

"Fear of death." I shrugged my shoulders. "He clings to his life too much. So much so that the instinct of self-preservation overrides the desire to protect this very life, and panic is common sense. Typical "дичь"."

"If he's so afraid, why doesn't he try to defend himself?" for a representative of a warlike people, such a thought was wild and could not fit into his head.

"Such people should not be given weapons in their hands." Nihlus shook his head. "An unpredictable alarmist is dangerous."

A Krogan flashed by with disgust. Ashley was gushing with pity. The scientific people clearly disliked Kayden for some reason of their own, but he sympathized with the fighters. Tali and Liara were surprisingly amicably ignoring those around them: the former simply didn't care, while the latter was completely absorbed in thoughts of her mother.

"It's worth taking a break while we run through the station and find out the local news. Tali." The Quarian looked at me.

"Elkor is trampling over there. See if this salesman has something interesting. If you find something like that, let me know."

The girl nodded and immediately went to a light gray massive creature dressed in... um... a purple-gray blanket, trousers and an interesting hat with rings.

"Liara, Kayden, Ashley, Garrus. If you want, you can settle down and take a break. Nihlus?"

"I don't like being here." The spectr shuddered all over.

Garrus shook his head.

"I'm not tired enough to look at... this."

"Kayden, you should take a nap." Rummaging through my hip box for show, I took out a tiny pill from my old stocks from my spatial pocket. "Take. It will relieve migraines for about seven hours."

Biotic did not argue. He just took off his armored glove, carefully picked up a tiny green ball from my palm and silently swallowed it. Garrus handed him a canteen of water.

"Sit still for ten minutes until it takes effect."

Kayden nodded.

"Rex?"

"I'll keep an eye on them." The Krogan nodded understandingly, with clear amusement in his eyes.

"Can I walk around and talk to the survivors?" Ashley asked.

"I don't mind."

Leaving Kayden and Liara in charge of Rex, Nihlus and I left with Garrus. Ashley ran away almost as soon as she got my permission.

Only half an hour was enough for us. The situation in the complex was, frankly, not as bad as we might have thought, looking at the faces of the survivors. All the problems were there, but the monorail was disconnected, which made the chance of falling out of the "Crevasse" vanishingly small.

What an irony... To survive during the breakthrough of dangerous semi-intelligent predators, and to have no way out of the station's trap only because, due to idiotic safety protocols, the reactor in the main complex was shut down, the power supply was cut off, communications were physically disconnected, and the ONLY transport connecting the station embedded in the glacier to the outside world was stopped. And, most cynically, it is impossible to include all this wealth from the "Chasm" - it is not provided for in the design! Needless to say, our sudden appearance gave us a well-founded hope for survival? At least for those who were sensible and could connect the unexpected appearance of a group of unknown sentients with the disabled monorail. One of these quick-witted people turned out to be the cunning Volus Khan Olar, who turned to us with a sacramental question:

"Are you here to find out something about THEM?"

Nihlus and Garrus exchanged glances and stared at the pot-bellied creature in unison. The Turians treated the Volus with a certain amount of sympathy and patronage, which, in principle, is not surprising: the Volus have long been part of the Turian Hierarchy and are perceived by the militant people at the level of the younger harmless, but extremely useful relatives.

"How interesting." Nihlus approached, curiously examining Volus. "Who are you?"

"Khan Olar." Volus introduced himself.

"The spectr of Nihlus Krayk. Garrus Vakarian. The spectr of Irene Shepard is mine..." then there was an interesting word that has no analogues in my native language and responded with a curious associative chain: ward-student-patronage-sympathy-potential-colleague.

Volus clicked the filter.

"What can you tell us about Rahni?" Nihlus asked kindly. "Where did they come from?"

"They found it on an abandoned ship. The queen's egg. It's left over from the last war. They brought me here." the click of the air filter.

"Have you revived them?" I asked.

"Yes," Olar clicked the filter. "Now I understand that it was a bad idea."

We didn't ask stupid questions about how this cute bun got out of the risk laboratory that had become a death trap. Garrus is too tactful for such a question, Nihlus just didn't want to bring up difficult memories, and I didn't really care. He survived and survived. Volus is no fool: relief and a kind of gratitude flooded his mental, displacing the severity of pain, remorse and acute guilt. Apparently, he really closed the door in front of his colleague and saw how she was torn to pieces. Guilt will be his punishment, as will a good memory. Olar won't forget very soon... if he can ever forget his own actions and someone else's death. Nevertheless, Turians take care of these funny creatures and do not allow them to participate in battles and conflicts. The bloody death of a colleague cut deeply into the psyche of the potbellied man and will remain with him forever.

"Olar, do you know where Matriarch Benezia might be?" I asked softly, squatting down so that my eyes were level with his eyepieces.

"She's there." Olar pointed with a three-toed paw at a turn in the corridor. "In the laboratory located behind the maintenance area."

"How do I get there?" Nihlus asked.

"You need a pass." Volus clicked the filter, looking from me to the two Turians with interest. "To the maintenance area. From there, you can get to the risk lab. If you can pick the locks on the doors."

"Thank you." I stood up.

"Queen Rachni can influence the mind." volus suddenly added. "Be careful."

We thanked Volus and left. I wonder if Ashley has already found adventures on our heads or not yet?

As practice has shown, she found it. The doctors. The one who gave the game a quest for a cure for the toxin and then a pass to the desired risk laboratory. In reality, everything turned out to be much more banal and unsightly. The toxin tested turned out to be a combat variant of the virus, which was developed for a specific race. Which one-the doctor never confessed, although I could see which one in his mind. For everything. It was supposed to be developed for everything in the future, but now a strain for humans and Asari was ready. Interestingly, it was the people who developed this miracle of virology who became infected with it, in the best traditions of cinema, by smashing a flask with a sample during a rachni attack. The virus was HIGHLY contagious, transmitted by airborne droplets, but it died almost instantly, before causing a mutation in the victim's internal organs, which caused her to die painfully from intoxication for a long time. The three moaning victims on the beds in the infirmary were a vivid example of this miracle. I admired the sad face of the doctor, who is not a doctor, at the three future corpses, promised to think about it and left the infirmary.

The Turians only had to look at my spiritual face to understand: we will not go for any medicine! Interestingly, there was no rejection or dissatisfaction with this decision: Turians did not like biological weapons, still considering the use of the genophage as a stain of shame on their race. Ashley walked gloomily, sincerely sympathizing with the three bending microblogs.

We walked back in silence. Tali was still tormenting Elkor, having an emotional conversation with the phlegmatic creature under Rex's lazy supervision. Kayden was dozing at the table, resting his head on his crossed arms. Liara was snoring softly next to us, leaning against our biotic. We decided not to wake these two up: let them play while they have a couple of extra minutes.

Garrus landed on a chair next to her, putting a Harpoon ditched with a toxin on the table. I silently pulled the weapon towards me and quickly disassembled it. The guy turned out to be right: the rifle was completely destroyed, and its combat value was reduced to the value of a metal baton. Nihlus pulled out a chair and sat down in front of me. Ashley settled down next to Alenko. Rex loomed over my soul. Nihlus silently took the half-disassembled Harpoon, examined it, and shook his head.

"Ruined?"

"Unfortunately... yes." I pushed the weapon to the edge of the table. "Garrus, don't look at him like that."

"We don't have another one." he answered reasonably.

"We'll buy it somewhere." I waved it off. "Maybe something better will come across. "A harpoon" is not a weapon worth worrying about. Although it's true, it's a pity for the rifle."

Garrus twitched his mandibles and nodded in agreement.

"What are our next steps?" Nihlus asked calmly.

"For the matriarch."

"Are we going to get the medicine?" Ashley asked.

"No"

Ashley opened her mouth to protest, but she caught my eye and... didn't say anything. Only the mental was stirred up by not too good emotions.

"I can't risk our mission to save three scientists. I do not know how contagious this stuff is, but I don't really want to take the doctor's word for it. Such... things should be buried with those who design them." my cold voice struck the woman unpleasantly. "Biological and chemical weapons are prohibited for a reason, Ashley. The galaxy remembers a recent example, the genophage."

Rex flinched behind me, and so did Nihlus and Garrus.

"Hierarchy... He is not proud of such a victory." Nihlus said dully, "This is a shameful victory. A stain on the honor of our people."

"The genophage is relative... Merciful. Don't get mad, Rex. I know what I'm talking about. At least you have live children. Normal, not disfigured by gene mutations. Nevertheless, the genophage is a biological weapon. The virus that these darlings were developing... reasonable... It could be something more terrifying. Therefore, they will die."

"But the doctor survived!" Ashley exclaimed.

"He survived." I replied peaceably, meeting the sharp gaze of Nihlus' green eyes.

"For how long?" a clear, calm thought.

"He will die of a brain hemorrhage while trying to continue working on the project or transfer information about it."

"Bookmark?"

"yes. The mentalist has them too... opportunities." the green eyes softened somewhat. "And you voluntarily let me into your brain."

"I trust you." and the subtle mental equivalent of a chuckle.

He will be trusted... happy that he just doesn't know what any intelligent mentalist can do with the mind of his victim!

A Krogan grunted behind him. Rex got me right, too, and interestingly, he approved of the not-so-kind decision. Ashley was shocked and unpleasantly surprised.

"When will you please the doctor?" Garrus asked.

"Never. We're going to go talk to Captain Ventralis now. Rex! Don't get hung up on my soul. It irritates my instincts."

The Krogan snorted, but did what was required, settling down next to Nihlus. Don't I understand? When did they manage to come to an agreement? The Rex's face was impudent and eerily pleased. Making a note to myself to deal with this entertaining man, I said, gazing intently at Ashley's face:

"We have only two goals on this planet: Matriarch Benezia and Queen Rachni. Everything else is not essential. Do you know what is at stake, and what consequences can unnecessary mercy and a desire to do good to everyone lead to?"

Ashley nodded dejectedly. The Turians didn't give a damn about the locals, even to the somewhat idealistic Garrus. Rex doesn't give a shit. I have a good team! Liara was sleepily blinking her eyes, awakened by our conversations.

"Since you understand this perfectly well, in that case, I hope I won't hear any more stupid ideas about saving all the suffering. If there is an opportunity to help, we will help. No... Well, no, not really. After all, I'm a Spectr, not a rescue service."

Nihlus chuckled.

"That's why they don't like us."

"And I'm not eager to please everyone." I smiled at the Turian's knowing grin. "Rex, go get Tali and hurry up our young technical genius."

The Krogan grunted, but went to the Quarian woman, who was frantically haggling with a burly Elkor. Without this little girl, I'm afraid we wouldn't have gotten far. Still, there must be a genius technician and a hacker in the team anyway. Just like a professional thief. But we will solve the problem of the absence of a thief later.

"Nihlus, let's go brainwash the captain. We don't have time to wait for them to swing there. Garrus, look after our dormice."

Garrus grinned, spreading his mandibles a little, and nodded in agreement. Nihlus stood up smoothly, easily intercepting my gaze. We need to teach him to set up a mental channel without direct visual contact.

"Are you going to push?"

"If necessary."

The channel is anchored, overgrown with anchors. We left the dining room and walked briskly to the entrance to the complex, where the sought-after reasonable was standing at the barricades.

"What will you do with the matriarch?"

"To begin with, I'll put you to sleep, cutting you off from the channel of mental submission, if there is one. If not, just go to sleep, pick up the carcass and go to the ship. I'll deal with her mind in a safe place."

"And the queen?"

"This will solve the conversation. Let's see how reasonable she is."

"And yet. What are your ideas?" a mental analogue of a smile and a light cloud of irony. "Don't tell me you don't have plans for her."

"Also, how I have! The Rachni are powerful allies in the war against the Reapers. But again, it all comes down to protecting the mind. However, only the queen needs to be protected."

"Do you want to suggest that the Council take them under protection?" Nihlus immediately got into my idea.

"And why not?"

"And it's true." Nihlus shook his head slightly. "The hierarchy will not give up on such a vassal."

Of course they would refuse! That's what, that's what, but you can't deny the practicality of the Turians! These are not Azari, who, due to their longevity and slowness, can smear snot for years. Look, the Voluses were instantly warmed up, as soon as the puffins expressed a desire to get under the protection of their belligerent neighbors.

Captain Ventralis was still standing at the barricades, his tired eyes glancing at the twisted grilles of the technical manholes. Somewhere on the verge of hearing, the claws of the rakhni were clacking, which did not add optimism and calmness to the exhausted fighters.

The captain shifted his gaze to Nihlus.

"Captain." the colleague politely inclined his head in a nod.

"Is there anything I can help you with?" There was a distinct note in the captain's voice: "What else do you want from me?"

"You can." The Turian grinned. "I need access to the maintenance area."

I didn't even need to enter the captain's mind directly. Fatigue, the recent storm of emotions, the remnants of adrenaline running through the blood, all this undermined the already not very strong defenses on the mind. All it took was a slight shift in priorities, and the captain, ignoring our safety and his duties, took out a card and handed it to the Turian.

"Do you understand that I am not responsible for your safety?" The man asked dryly, looking from Nihlus to me and back again.

"This is not required." The captain nodded curtly and lost interest in us. Out of curiosity, I looked into his mind: he had already mentally given up on us and buried us in absentia. That's great, they'll be less interested in what we're doing there and who we're dragging with us.

Chapter 21: Lady Benezia

Lady Benezia. The Asari matriarch. A woman with enormous political and religious power. A powerful biotic with many loyal followers. Saren's only ally, who tried to pull him out from under the Lord's control... In general, she is an ambiguous and extremely powerful person, but she turned out to be a pretty, fragile young lady with very curvy forms and a chiseled figure. Interestingly, there was no sign of the black nightmare that the prototype was wearing. A simple, formal darck blue dress with a plunging neckline and a thigh-high neckline accentuated her perfect figure, and the matriarch looked really good... luxurious, charming, and downright seductive. And, most importantly, no ugly black cap! Only a small silver hoop on his head.

When I saw this lady conjuring over the control console on the platform next to Queen Rachni, at first I thought that this short girl was one of the Azari escorts. But liarino "Mom!" quickly put everything in its place.

Benezia noticed us almost instantly, but she was in no hurry to attack, and she also restrained the three paratroopers. And everything was fine until this lady opened her mouth... and then it poured... pathos and philosophical thought... Yeah... I wonder if this is a professional injury or just a desire to chat and lower us mentally? Benezia didn't even ask who we were. Apparently, she already understood, although the sight of a living and healthy Nihlus caused a surge of amazement bordering on shock. Didn't she get it, did she think he died on Eden Prime? The surprise was even stronger than the sight of Liara standing behind me.

I do not know exactly why the brain of this obviously intelligent woman was so wired, but the first words I heard caused her to turn off her vocal cords, since the matriarch, without realizing it, went through the sore calluses of almost any reborn:

"You don't know what it means to be a mother." Benezia came down from the platform and stood in the stairwell, looking at me with obvious arrogance. "There is the power of creation. The formation of life. Turning her to joy or despair..."

Benesia, Benesia... How wrong you are... Unfortunately, I know. You know what it's like to leave your child and go into another reality, knowing that you'll NEVER see him again. Even if you REALLY want to...

Sooner or later, everyone comes to a turning point, when the gift of rebirth turns into a curse, and the soul begins to disintegrate into bleeding pieces. We don't forget anyone. Never. Absolute memory is our scourge. We remember everyone: friends, colleagues, relatives, loved ones... we remember it after dozens of lives and hundreds of years. We remember everything. Feelings do not lose their power and brightness. Over time, or you adapt... Or you're going crazy. Sometimes you find yourself in another reflection of the reality in which your dear reasonable was. When you meet him or her again... and you realize that in front of you is a complete stranger... It's just a matter of luck.

However, you can get used to everything. Even to such a lifestyle. Everyone copes as best they can. Someone finds a loved one again and again, filling the void in their soul, someone repeatedly fills their grief with booze at the Crossroads of Worlds, someone locks up and muffles emotions, someone freezes their heart and soul, denying themselves feelings... However, the latter option never gives salvation for a long time... Sooner or later, the control crumbles, and the result - a powerful imprinting - leads such a rebirth to a personal Hell.

Shaking my head, I swept away the unnecessary memories and thoughts. I'll reflect on it when I come back to my new world and lose everything I can get in this reality. And now it's worth dealing with current issues, one of which talks about things she doesn't know about with an exalted mien!

At this distance, visual contact will not give an advantage, but it is not necessary, except that it facilitates penetration into the mind and makes it invisible. But there are other ways!

"Her children were supposed to be ours!" Asari grandly pointed to the queen of rachni, frozen in a huge transparent flask. "Grow up to seek out and kill enemies... Saren." a short pause, a flash of emotion at the name of the Turian gave me the opportunity to slip past her natural shield.

I saw the mental channel instantly: a powerful, sturdy probe extending to the very core of the personality, roughly piercing a surprisingly strong natural shield. Fortunately, the channel is inactive now: the mentalist who set it up was out of reach, and could not directly control the matriarch. I can't completely clean up this mess right now. It will take time. No, it takes a lot of time and, most importantly, peace. However, this was not necessary now. Putting the plugs on the probe, I passed it at the point of penetration through the shield, tying it to protect the mind. Meanwhile, Benezia continued to broadcast:

"Sympathy won't touch me! It doesn't matter who you took with you."

I wonder if she's telling me this, or is she trying to convince herself? It makes no sense to me, because I'm an ungrateful listener, and she clearly couldn't convince herself. Especially after the constipation on the emotional sphere came off and the maternal instinct turned into full force, completely demolishing the remnants of the bookmark that suppressed affection for her daughter. And then Liara herself intervened in the monologue, only intensifying the storm of conflicting emotions:

"I'm here of my own free will, Mom! No one forced me!"

The girl's bitter cry swept through Benezia's mind like a wave of pain, undermining the bookmarks and tearing off the shackles.

"Really?" Benezia was literally petrified. "And what did you tell them about me, Liara?"

"What could I say, Mom?!" The girl shouted, not noticing how a tear was running down her cheek. But Benezia noticed! "That you're crazy? Evil? Explain how to kill you?" Liara's voice broke. "What could I say?!!"

While Benezia was trying to take control of my feelings, I finally found what I was looking for. What followed was a matter of technique: the substitution of signals coming from the mind to the body, and so the carcass of the matriarch slid limply onto the metal ramp. The paratroopers got nervous, but I rudely broke into their minds, and the three ladies instantly switched from a state of "ready for battle" to "having my tenth dream".

Liara stared in horror at her virtually paralyzed mother. Nihlus frowned, but endured.

"Liara, calm down. Your mother is fine. As far as this can be said about someone whose mind was plowed over by the Lord." I shook my whole body and ran lightly up the stairs. "Garrus, help me get the Lady to the platform. Nihlus. I'm going to fall out of reality for a while. Make sure that NO ONE bothers me, even if this laboratory decides to take off into space on jet propulsion along with the glacier."

Garrus silently put away the rifle and, picking up the blinking Benezia in his arms, carried her to the platform and, at my direction, sat her against the wall. The paratroopers were disarmed and laid down in a row.

"What will you do?"

"Gut her brains!" I snapped, squatting down and peering into the matriarch's wide-eyed eyes. Garrus grunted, took off his rifle and settled down next to him, placing the ready-to-use pistol on the console at his right hand. "And I fell into the Asari's mind, easily suppressing an attempt at resistance."

The probe looked just monstrous! This filth was making its way to the core of the personality, and it was hideously close to its goal, resting on the last veil. It will take a lot of effort to remove this monster from your mind, but you can stop its destructive effect and move towards the core now.

What is a mental probe in its essence? It is a kind of drill that penetrates through the protection of the mind and strives for the core of the personality in order to make some changes. Which ones it is depends on the mentalist who put together and launched this dirty trick. In the case of Benezia, the probe tied the emotional sphere to the image of an Anchor, achieving almost deification with a complete rejection of critical thinking and logic. The victim accepts any words of the Anchor creature as the ultimate truth and is simply unable to disobey. Such a crude version of full imprinting. Saren played the role of Anchor.

Apart from the probe itself, Benezia's whole mind was full of bookmarks and limiters. The emotional sphere was blocked, clearly delineating emotions and anchoring them. Under the influence of these matriarch lock tabs, all sentients were divided into two parts: allies and enemies of the Anchor. Liara, as expected, belonged to the "enemy" category and was to be destroyed. The realization of this fact caused a conflict of instinct and a bookmark-lock. The lord greatly underestimated the power of maternal love and the instinct to protect his child. I wouldn't risk putting such a bookmark: they almost always fly off, regardless of the strength and quality of the installation.

Most of all, I was confused by the whole network of small mental strands that regulate the sphere of associative connections. There was no time to deal with their peculiarities now, but to pick at random... there is a high risk of causing any of the many mental illnesses. From mild schizophrenia and psychosis to amnesia or complete personality breakdown.

"Lady Benezia." my voice, tinged with a slight hypnotic effect, attracted the attention of a frankly panicked Asari. "Do you know where Saren Arterius is NOW?"

Benezia couldn't speak: her vocal cords were blocked along with her entire body, but I didn't need words, I needed images and memories that involuntarily popped up in her mind when she realized my question. Another bastard feature of the mentalist.

As I had expected, Saren was currently on Vermire.

"Where is his base on Vermaire located?"

A brief memory: a view of the station, a kaleidoscope of brief pictures of the interior, and... here it is: a map of the planet in an instrumentron indicating both the base itself and its protection system, glimpsed by Benezia. The Lady herself may never be able to recall this image, but this fleeting memory is enough for me.

"His ship, the Lord, where is it located while Saren is on the planet?"

Flash: The moon of Vermire and the Reaper, drifting lazily on the gravitational fields of the satellite.

"How does Saren connect with the Overlord?"

Memory: a holographic terminal. Is there a mental impact from the terminal? I don't think so. And that's great!

"Base access protocols?"

That's where I had to push a little, but the necessary information came up: access codes for the automatic defense system and data on Geth patrols. True, it is unlikely that we will be able to make a friend-or-foe system, but at least I will know what to expect.

"What were you doing on this planet?"

In response, a series of memories brought me the information I needed: the rachni queen and the coordinates of the mu repeater, which I safely pulled out of my weakly resisting mind.

"Has the report been sent?"

A brief regret and anger at the Rachni, who broke free at the wrong time and provoked the quarantine. Benezia didn't have time to send the coordinates to Saren! The satellite connection went down earlier. So... Why didn't you send it after we turned everything on? Ah... I see... bookmarks started to fail and doubts appeared. Successfully.

"When is Saren expecting a report from you?"

Immediately! Bad, but not critical.

"How much time do you have until your silence and absence causes alarm?"

Three days of silence. Absence - twelve to fifteen days. Great, that's enough for us. Four days to the Citadel, a day at the station, five days to Vermaer. The route goes through the Citadel anyway. That means Benezia will need to contact Saren before we leave Noveria. She will contact him, even if me have to use full subordination to do so.

"Has the report been generated and is ready to be sent?"

Consent and a chain of associations with information about where to look for this report.

"Where are your fighters?"

Oh... we're resisting... Wow... And I thought she didn't give a damn about the lives of the paratroopers. It turns out - no. How lovely...

"If you meet me halfway, we won't hurt them. If they attack us, we will destroy them."

Benezia understood me correctly. I restored her ability to speak and partially regained control of her body.

"Not... We need them... kill."

"It all depends on you. To live or to die." for a visual demonstration, I pointed to three quietly snoring carcasses at the edge of the platform. And then something happened that I did not expect: a complex associative connection, in some completely perverse logical way, connected me and Nazara! Don't you understand? AM I WHAT? Oh! Such... I haven't had any questionable compliments for a long time! Wow...

Benezia's eyes widened, and Asari flashed with panic.

"Lady Benezia!" My sarcastic voice somewhat cooled her ardor. "Of course, I am sincerely flattered that you have equated me with a powerful mentalist with hundreds of thousands of years of experience... But no, I have nothing to do with the Reapers." surprise, shock, apprehension. "What are you... Although I'm a mentalist with a pretty good education and some experience, I'm definitely not up to it." regret, despair, and slowly fading hope. "And don't get upset right away! Sheer power doesn't always give you an advantage. Even like this... creatures like the Reaper. suspicion and understanding. Yes, you're absolutely right, I can."

I gave her back partial control of her body and the power of speech.

"I suggest you... a kind of contract. You are helping us to solve our common problem," I deliberately didn't say Saren's name out loud, but Benezia understood me perfectly, "and I am removing the Lord's influence and the results of his activities from my mind." again, I didn't specify from whose mind, just showing a three-dimensional image. "Mental channel, bookmarks, coercion, distortion of associative connections, substitution of concepts, anchoring and other charms that the Reaper has so generously endowed you with. Mm-hmm? What do you say?"

The matriarch's eyes widened in surprise, and panic and suspicion slowly gave way to vague hope.

"Can you do it?"

"I can. But it takes time. A lot of time. There are certain rules for working with consciousness. Especially when you need to remove the effects of a mental attack or coercion. You can't take all this wealth at once. The brain may not be able to stand it. You must understand how fragile the mind and consciousness are."

Benezia nodded slowly.

"I want to warn you in advance so that there won't be any misunderstandings later. Sometimes I will have to dive into your consciousness VERY deeply, to analyze the memory and structure of the formation of requests and responses. I hope you realize that there will be no secrets from me?

The Asari nodded slowly.

"I won't disturb your memories unnecessarily. But a certain frankness is the downside of being a mentalist."

"What have you already done?" Benezia demanded, apparently not having already waited for the usual detached state of mental zombification.

"I blocked the mental feeler drill and direct coercion. You're able to think straight, but any attempt to go against the bookmarks you've already installed will trigger them. Lady Benezia, I'm going to have to put you to sleep until these bookmarks are removed."

"This is appropriate." the Asari nodded slowly, looking at me with an incomprehensible thoughtfulness. "You can guarantee what you can do... What was promised?" A vivid image of Saren rushing around the laboratory, furiously smashing everything that came to hand, appeared on the surface of consciousness.

"If the core of the personality is intact, yes. If it is damaged... There's no guarantee, but there are chances. But if the core was destroyed... This is where the work is already on the verge of the impossible."

"When can you find out for sure?"

"After the first scan."

"I agree."

"Fine. Now, could you send Saren a report indicating that the work on removing the coordinates of the mu repeater has not yet been completed, but is close to success?"

"How much time do you need?" Benezia asked calmly.

"As long as it takes to get to Vermaer."

Agreement and determination came from the Asari. Apparently, Saren is not just an acquaintance, but also a friend. There was no hint of sexual interest in Benezia's emotional response, rather, some kind of strange attachment, completely devoid of romantic feelings. It was as if this Lady perceived Saren as... As a friend? No, that's not quite it. There is a strong connotation of patronage and guardianship. Okay, not now. Then I'll figure out who Benezia thinks this scumbag is.

While the matriarch was correcting and sending the report, her marines pulled up. The girls really didn't show any aggression, but they looked at us very cautiously, squinting at their sweetly sleeping colleagues. And I did something that people like me, to put it mildly, don't like.: I've put subtle mental bookmarks on Kayden and Ashley. Now they won'T be able to tell me exactly HOW I got the information from the matriarch. Just at the right moment... They won't remember. Who doesn't? It slipped out of my head, although there it is, the memory is there, no one deleted anything, but for some reason it did not come up in the conversation at the right moment. Tiny changes that do not harm the mind or personality in any way, but ensure that these two do not blurt out things that should not be said. There is no need for the Alliance leadership to know that Commander Shepard is a mentalist and can... influence the mind. If the bookmarks don't come in handy, I'll take them down. If they work...

One of the sleeping Asari marines suddenly stirred, awkwardly trying to get up. The people were alarmed.

"Put down your weapon!" I shouted.

"What's wrong with her?" Garrus wasn't in a hurry to put the gun away, but he pulled it aside a little.

"External control. Consciousness is asleep."

"Who controls it?" Benezia stared intently at the clumsily shuffling figure.

"Queen Rachni." I was watching the peculiar avatar with interest. "It's not fatal or even particularly harmful. I will correct the results of the intervention."

Benezia nodded slowly and motioned for the marines to put away their weapons.

Meanwhile, the avatar walked to the edge of the platform, leaned her back against the durable transparent material and, without opening her eyes, said in a flat, emotionless voice:

"She will be our voice. We cannot sing in your low worlds. Your music is colorless."

The intelligent ones exchanged glances, watching the avatar intently. I got up and came closer, peering with interest into an extremely curious mental channel. A very interesting structure: connecting to the body bypassing the mind and consciousness. Impulses and images are fed directly to the brain, and the body itself, relying on the subconscious, reflexes and long-term memory, performs what is required. Interestingly, such a connection does not really harm the body itself. Unless the owner gets a severe migraine for a couple of days, when the subordination is lifted, and maybe some information will settle in memory.

"I'm listening to you." looking at the elongated faces of Asari and some of my fighters, I asked a stupid question: "Who are you?"

"We are the mother. We sing to those who are left behind. The children you thought were silenced." Pause. "We are Rachni."

"Queen." I went up to the thick "glass", intently examining the curious creature. "There was no need to use Asari. I can hear the song of your thought. But... So be it. Others want to hear from you too." I felt an attempt at mental touch and responded to it, allowing the Rachni queen to tune into my mind. "What do you want to tell us?"

The answer came through Azari:

"The children we had were taken away before they could sing or hear our music. They are lost in silence. They cannot be saved. Stop their suffering. As they are, they can only be harmful."

"Who took them?"

"People of needles. They stole our eggs. They wanted to turn our children into war animals. Into the mandibles, devoid of their own songs!"

That's how it is... In principle, I thought something like this, but for the rest of the queen's revelations were a surprise.

"Could she be lying?" Garrus asked an interesting question, examining the massive purple creature in a sealed flask with some unhealthy interest.

"No. Rachni communicate mentally. With this kind of speech, lying is impossible in principle. They just don't know such a thing. For them, lying is unnatural and beyond comprehension."

The Turians exchanged glances and stared at the queen with exactly the same expression! Okay, Nihlus knows what my plans are for this creature, but why is Garrus looking at a nervous queen like a kobold at an ancient treasure? Meanwhile, the queen continued to express her thoughts in an attempt to convey to others the things that were obvious to her:

"Our elders feel good in silence. But children only know fear if no one sings to them. Fear overwhelmed their minds."

"In other words, do young Rachni who sit in silence and solitude lose their minds?" Kayden asked skeptically.

"A child who grew up in silence and complete solitude cannot be normal." Liara shrugged her shoulders. "I can understand that."

"Your "lost" children... They'll put you out of your misery." I said, not going against the truth at all: rachni would be killed one way or another. "Question... in the other one. What's to be done with you, Queen?"

"Your song will decide. Will you let us go? Or should we calm down again? You have the power to free us or return us to the silence of memory."

Oh yeah... That's it! Queen Rachni agrees to cooperate. She REALLY wants to live, but she is well aware of her situation. And now... a couple of interesting questions:

"If we give you a chance to continue singing... Will you attack our peoples?"

"No!" The queen replied instantly. "We... I do not know what happened during the war! All we heard was dissonance, a song the color of oily shadows!"

"In other words, did someone influence you? Suppressed your song with his own? Muddled your mind?"

"There is a memory of dissonance in the song of your mind."

I dug out the mental imprint of the Reaper and pushed it to the queen.

"Is it?"

"Yes! This color is weak. An echo."

"Rather, it's a mental imprint." I glanced with interest at Benezia, who was listening attentively to our interesting conversation. "I know who it belongs to. Those who sing in this color come back to interrupt the music of our peoples. The way it was once in the past. You must remember when the songs of our predecessors ended."

"We remember." the queen confirmed.

Of course she doesn't remember! The Reapers used Rachni to the fullest, knocking out the Protheans. It couldn't help but settle in the genetic memory!

"Are you talking about the protheans?" Benezia asked.

"About them, the relatives. Rachni existed back in those days. The Protheans contributed to their development, and the Reapers then used the biological weapons so kindly provided, subjugating the queens' minds."

"Are you sure?"

"The Protean information buoy has clearly shown this." I snapped.

"But why did they attack US?"

It's a legitimate question, Liara. But do you want to hear the answer?

"Who says the Reapers haven't been watching over us all this time? Or is there little left of them, like the Ark Monoliths, capable of subjugating the mind and partially transforming into huskies?"

Benezia flinched as if she had been hit. Oh, does the Lady know about Desolas' fate? However, why shouldn't she know? She's been alive for hundreds of years, and the orbital bombing of the Temple on Palaven is not an event that you can not know about. Moreover, if she had been in contact with Saren for quite a long time, he could have told her about his brother.

"If we give you the opportunity to live..." Nihlus approached, peering intently at the huge creature. Are you ready to become a part of our civilization? To fight with us against those who... Does she sing the color of oily shadows? You will be ready... sing so that the music of others won't stop?"

"We are ready to sing for you. If you find us... a place where we can teach our children harmony."

"We'll give you a chance..." Nihlus stammered, choosing his words, "Compose new music of your race."

"We will remember." Pause. "What should we do now?"

And here we are... They were puzzled. I still haven't figured out how to get Queen Rachni off the planet. Although....

"The matriarch of Benezia?"

The lovely Asari raised her head and smiled knowingly. We will resolve this issue. The issue has really been resolved. All the fuss around Queen rachni in no way affected the mental bookmarks in the mind of the matriarch, and therefore the Lady approached this problem with frightening excitement. Whether the removal of the state of mental zombification affected her so much, or the promise to clear her mind and save her friend, or something else, I don't know, and I don't particularly want to find out where this state of euphoria originated from. In general, the solution turned out to be as simple as the corner of a barn.: The queen was tamped into a suitable-sized container and pulled out of the laboratory with the help of biotics.

You should have seen the expression on Captain Ventralis' face! The way he looked at the Asari marines, who were pumping biotics into a huge box under the strict guidance of the evil Nihlus and the patronizing gaze of the matriarch... It's just a song! Especially when you consider that the box creaked through the door and was almost right next to it, which caused the pretty young ladies to swear in SUCH words that Liara blushed and turned pale, and the omny-tool tactfully remained silent. The fucked-up guy watched our procession with a deeply amazed look, but somehow did not dare to be outraged. He didn't make a sound at all. I just choked on the air when I saw our faces and the mess we were making.

How we shoved the box into the carriage is a separate song! As a result, the monorail broke up with a piece of wall, and we lost a lot of nerves. The queen generally shrank into a ball and hid, afraid to make another move, but a powerful wave of apprehension and hope prevented me from concentrating. Nihlus, on the other hand, examined the worn and scratched box with the gaze of a dragon who saw an ancient artifact.

But we did it! We dragged the box with the rachni queen to the garage of the main complex of Vershka-15! While the Asari paratroopers were resting, Lady Benezia and Nihlus took out the brains of the panicked Anoleis, but they obtained permission for "Normandy" to leave the port and fly to the laboratory complex, citing the inability to drive along an avalanche-strewn and collapsed road. Twenty minutes later, "Normandy" landed safely in front of the gates of the Vershina-15 garage, the box with the queen was on board, the happy cattle-bataler walked through the warehouses with a flock of locusts, sometimes leaving only bare walls with the feasible help of our biotics. And we have finally left this deeply boring complex...

Chapter 22: Profile Work

A heavy hand landed on my shoulder, interrupting my heavy thoughts and bringing me back to the real world. I tore my gaze away from the sleeping Benezia and squinted at a wide palm with long, strong fingers ending in massive claws.

"Something happened?"

The hand disappeared, and its owner appeared in the field of view, sitting on the edge of the laboratory table.

"You tell me." Nihlus said calmly and held out a warm food container.

Did he bring me food? To the infirmary?

"Karin will be against it."

"No, it won't." a slight grin: slightly spread mandibles, a sly look. "Dr. Chakwas found me not long ago and ordered me to take you away from your work and feed you. Even forcibly. And send him to sleep."

And there's an abyss of irony in his eyes.

"Did she actually order it?" I looked skeptically at the pleased face. "And you agreed to obey her?"

"You know how angry our doctor is. Her sincere concern for the health of the sentients on this ship is close to... fanaticism. It's completely useless to argue with her. And it's pointless."

"Oh, how!" I was surprised.

Wow! Nihlus recognized the doctor's power over himself! Even in the field of health.

"At first, she wanted to catch Garrus, but Vakarian lay under the Mako, and she couldn't get him out. He pretends to be busy with repairs."

"Kicked off?"

"Rather, he just fell asleep and ignored all attempts to reach his common sense and sense of responsibility. He was wearing headphones, so the doctor's screams went down the drain. He just didn't hear her." Nihlus chuckled. "Rex technically shifted the scope to me and dumped me in the arsenal."

"Did you agree?"

The Turian cocked his head like a bird.

"Rin, she's right. You locked yourself in the infirmary as soon as you finished resettling the Asari and gave orders to the Joker and the XO. It's been almost five hours. You've been up for more than a day and haven't eaten since you landed on Noveria. Dr. Karin has reason to be furious."

"Is she furious?"

"If she were a warrior, I would say... in the pre-fight." Nihlus chuckled. "And so... She's just mad. She still couldn't bring you out of your trance, and I advised you not to disturb her. So eat up. As far as I understand, the doctor will come to check."

I didn't argue. I really wanted to eat, but a prolonged mind scan did not add to my cheerfulness. Knowing Karin, I can easily believe in her warning. He'll come and check it out! And God forbid if I find myself hungry at the time of this check. It will hit both me and Nihlus. To me, for having ignored the needs of the body upon returning from the mission, and to Nihlus for not following up. It can ricochet into everything else. Karin is VERY responsible about her duties! Her recommendations often sound like a direct and uncompromising order. As far as I remember, even Captain Anderson did not dare to argue with the doctor about the health of her patients.

After unpacking the box, I started eating. Interestingly, the container, divided into two parts, contained both types of food, and if the usual food contained some vegetables, then dextro can be described in one word: meat!

"Our chef definitely works wonders!"

Nihlus chuckled.

I was already touched. No, seriously! Wow, he remembered! And then I spoke as a joke, albeit truthfully.

The doors of the infirmary swung open noiselessly. Karin looked closely at me, who was chewing, and nodded benevolently to Nihlus, who bowed his head questioningly.

"Irene! You should be in your cabin and asleep in an hour!"

"I understood, I got into it, I'll improve!"

Karin skeptically examined my face and honest-honest eyes, shook her head, slightly pursing her lips. She didn't believe it.

"The Nihlus spectr. I hope for your prudence and responsibility."

"I'll make sure."

Karin retired to her cabin. The Iron Lady!

A spectr device, already familiar to me, landed on the laboratory table, jamming wiretaps and unnecessary prying eyes.

"What can you say about the matriarch's condition?"

"A lot of things. But maybe only in obscenities. Literary language is not able to describe what I saw. I'm afraid your mentor's mind will be even more in danger... in a deplorable state." I took a bite of the funny purple colored meat.

"But seriously?"

"Partial substitution of associative bindings and strict rough control for complete suppression. The Reaper didn't aim to subdue her gently. The invasion and capture happened quickly and not too neatly."

"How long will it take to fix all this?"

"In an amicable way, it's at least a decade. But I will try to remove the most critical before arriving at the Citadel. Bookmarks, anchor bindings, drill and mental channel. The violation of associative connections will have to be abandoned. Or edit it another time. I've finished the full scan, and I need to start removing the bindings. It will be just ten or twelve hours for the rest of the mind."

"Will it take a long time?"

"Not really. If you want, I can show you how it happens."

I've noticed more than once that Nihlus has VERY expressive eyes when he wants to! That's how it is now. I finished my meal quickly, closed the container, and put it away. I have about an hour until Karin's deadline passes. And we'd better get out of the infirmary by then!

A simple mental command brought Lady Benezia out of her sleep, transferring it to a light form of trance, so convenient for work.

"It's not worth working with a sleeping reasonable. This requires a lot of effort and attention: consciousness is turned off, the personality is in contact with the upper level of the subconscious and may briefly immerse itself in the realm of instincts. Protecting the core of the personality and mind is one of the basic instincts of a reasonable person, and he can easily react to the slightest careless action. The result will be unpredictable, up to and including physical aggression. Believe me, based on naked instincts and reflexes, without mind control, the body can work wonders. Quite... scary miracles."

Nihlus nodded slowly.

"How dangerous is it?"

"Extremely dangerous. I know an example of how this instinct works. The result is forty corpses of varying degrees of dismemberment, partial metamorphosis of the body, removal of blocks from the area of genetic memory, and an intelligent predator. Consciousness turned on only three days later, when ALL reasonable people left the complex. And it was just a human teenager! A fifteen-year-old girl."

Nihlus did not complain about imagination and fantasy, and he was able to imagine such a thing without much trouble. His expressive face stretched out, his mandibles twitched nervously and pressed against his cheeks.

"Dangerous."

"Yes. But the waking mind gives unnecessary interference, complicates work, bookmarks and bindings can work if the patient is ill... well, or the victim will feel something. To avoid both extremes, a mental trance based on oneiroid catatonia and amentia has been developed. The victim is awake, but not in contact with reality. When coming out of a trance, all hallucinations are erased from memory. Lady Benezia is in a trance right now."

Nihlus nodded slowly.

"How can you show me your work if I'm not a mentalist?"

"Diving through my consciousness. This method is used to train mentalists under the supervision of a mentor. Look into my eyes. "I met his gaze, easily penetrating his mind." "Don't resist. Now I'm going to pull you into the outer region of my consciousness through a mental channel."

Interestingly, the Turian really didn't resist, even though I saw his fingers tighten on the edge of the table. I turned my gaze to my victim, and lo and behold, we penetrated the mind of the matriarch. Nihlus didn't understand much about mental projection, but even he was moved by what he saw. I use imaginative visual perception, and the mental drill looked like a creepy spiked tentacle from the outside.

"What you see is an imaginative perception, recreated in a form that is convenient for me. Every mentalist creates a comfortable environment for him. Some people generally use non-visual modeling: music, smells, sensations of touch. Which is convenient for whom."

"What kind of dirty trick is this?" Nihlus' attention pointed to the dipstick.

"A mental drill. Rough, but powerful. Such trash independently makes its way to the core of the personality and changes it. Or destroys it."

"Did he go deep?"

The image changed when I shifted the point of perception.

"Reached the last veil."

"What needs to be done?"

"Pay attention to the thin dark strands coming from the drill. You can't touch the drill itself until all bindings are removed, otherwise, Chaos alone knows how and what will work when it is removed." I brought the largest and strongest weight closer. "This is anchoring. I'm going to shoot her first and right now."

"What is an Anchor?"

"The key image that invasion and coercion are tied to. In our case, the collective one is Saren." The film disintegrated into a series of images of the above-mentioned intelligent in VERY interesting variations. "Of all the variety, this and this look are real. Everything else is a phantom. The image is attached to the associative link: lord-Saren-Soveren. The middle links can ALWAYS be omitted or changed. The first and last states are firmly fixed. Take away the excess, and you will get "lord Sovereyn" - the true Anchor, but the tap goes to Saren. If you remove or break this bookmark, all the negativity will be transferred to it."

"How to remove it?"

"Look."

Anchoring is removed in several stages. I was the first to change Saren's Name to Nazara, which untied the vast majority of bookmarks from the Anchor. The Reaper made a very common mistake: he was not anchoring to the Anchor's Condition, but to its Image. On Saren Arterius. It's much easier and doesn't require any hard work. The name always evokes associations and draws an Image with it. Change the Name, and you change the Image without touching it directly or causing aggression from the defense. The substitution was easy: I built additional connections: Sovereyn of Nazara-"Sovereyn"-Ship-affiliation-Saren, pulling on suitable memories and concepts from the victim's mind. So they do not cause rejection, because they are not foreign. Based on this associative chain, Nazara name was tied to the Anchor, and then replaced at the point of conjugation when I shifted the emphasis. As a result, the Anchor was now attached to the associative link "lord-Nazara-Sovereyn", which was NOT a lie: Nazara is the Sovereyn, and therefore did not cause a conflict in the control points that monitor the integrity of the bookmark. Then it was easier. After removing the attachment to Saren, I disbanded the associations based on Benezia's own knowledge, easily CONVINCING her mind that the Sovereyn of Nazara is a sentient being, and "the Sovereyn" is a ship, albeit an extremely strange one. In other words, DIFFERENT images. The Anchor, stripped of its anchors, disintegrated on its own.

"That's something like that."

I took us out of the matriarch's mind and severed contact. Nihlus twitched, blinked, regaining control of his body, Benezia lay back on the bed, her trance smoothly turned into a dream.

"You can do that..." Nihlus waved his hand vaguely, "convince of anything."

"May. There would be time and desire." I shrugged, rubbing my sore temples with my fingers. As you can see, a well-composed cutting of true images and facts allows you to create false associative connections. You haven't seen how you can distort memories and twist the semantic component. It's totally creepy out there."

"How much time and effort will it take to bring you to this state?"

"For about a decade with constant exposure under ideal conditions: the victim does not resist, and no one distracts. Otherwise, it will take about a month."

"How long will it take to get it all off?"

"The same amount. Maybe more. If the bookmarks have an integrity monitoring system and protection, you have to remove them very carefully so as not to disturb the control points. The matriarch has one, albeit a rather primitive one."

"Somehow, the concept of "primitive" doesn't really fit the Reaper's actions." Nihlus said with some skepticism.

"I suppose Reapers are natural mentalists. Or were created from them. But! The impact is rough and quite careless. The bookmarks are too clearly positioned, and the protection is too conditional. It seems that the Lord of probability does not even allow that someone else can interfere with the mind of his victim."

"Why such conclusions?"

"Usually, experienced mentalists hide their creativity well, disguising it as natural formations and the influence of the subconscious. The protection is aggressive and multi-layered. And here..." I spread my hands. "Everything is in plain sight. There's not even an attempt to cover it up."

"How much can you hide?"

"I have seen the master's work: the mind is almost completely reprogrammed, everything that is possible is in bookmarks, and externally there is not a single trace of influence."

"What's your opinion?"

"There are only two explanations: lack of knowledge and negligence. I don't believe in the first one. Bookmarks are set correctly. Negligence? Maybe. The Reaper simply has no reason to hide the impact. It's not that I haven't seen mentalists here, but I haven't even met a banal empath!"

"What is the reason?"

"It's hard to say what exactly caused it. But all these are consequences of the degradation of natural protection." Seeing the misunderstanding in the green eyes, I explained." When a child is born, his mind is practically nonexistent, his body is governed by instincts. The core of the personality is open, the soul is weak. That is why in the developed magical worlds a child's name is given ONLY after three months of life, when the soul is finally fixed in the body and the first Veil appears around the core. Gradually, with the growth of the child and the development of the mind, the natural defense unfolds and finally strengthens towards puberty. At the same time, the formation of the basis of personality ends. As they grow older, the protection strengthens, and the development of the so-called "zone of influence" begins, tied to the aura. The aura is larger in size than the physical body, sometimes significantly so. This is exactly what is called "personal space". Everyone has their own opinion. Everything that falls within the boundaries of the aura can be affected by its owner. And that's when empathy can manifest itself. A reasonable person begins to feel other people's emotions. Weakly at first. Then..." I grimaced. "Then you have to learn how to close. After showing empathy, it quickly grows stronger and begins to develop into mentalism. At the same time, active or combat shields are raised. That's to explain... roughly and simplistically.

Nihlus listened very attentively, his emotions were thoughtful, surprised, and somewhat confused.

"I'm starting to feel other people's emotions."

"I know."

"Is this the result of restoring protection?"

"Rather, it is a consequence." I shrugged my shoulders. "As soon as your natural shield is strengthened, then the normal development of the aura has already begun. Not surprisingly, empathy has emerged. You are unlikely to become a mentalist without forced development - time is lost, but intuition and empathy will develop."

"Could such a "degradation of protection" have occurred naturally?"

"I have no idea. This is an embodied reality, and they can be anything and everything! The only thing that is never violated and under no circumstances is the basic laws of our Order. And don't confuse them with the laws of physics!"

The Turian blinked in surprise.

"Sounds... Somehow... not very encouraging."

I spread my hands.

"As it is. Or would you rather hear a beautiful fairy tale?"

"No. I prefer the truth. Even... so much... An interesting one."

The conversation somehow faded by itself. Nihlus pondered my words, periodically flaring up with emotions, and looked at me strangely. I turned down the aura, dimming the sensitivity. Mentalists understand and value personal space and trust more than anyone else.

Nihlus turned off the jammer, put it in his pocket and silently extended his hand to me, inviting me to stand up. I did not refuse to help: I was visibly unsteady, and my strength was running out. Mental impact is not given just like that, devouring vital energy, just like any other job. Only an uneducated, intelligent person can think that using the mentalist's gift does not take its toll. Any impact requires the application of some kind of force spent on it. It wouldn't surprise anyone if a man who spent three hours uprooting stumps and pulling out weeds in an overgrown field got tired. But for some reason, they are so sincerely surprised when a mentalist or a mind magician, who has been uprooting an analog of weeds from the patient's mind for the same three hours, gets tired in the same way...

Nihlus took me to my cabin and left, simply advising me to get a good night's sleep and not get up at first light. The ship is traveling through a tunnel between relays, and nothing will happen to it, or even if it does... it will be too late to worry: in such accidents, no one has ever returned. Reassured, however... I only had the strength to quickly rinse myself off and collapse across the bed. My consciousness simply turned off as soon as I slowed down on a soft horizontal surface.

Interestingly, I woke up in a normal position: with my head on a pillow and neatly covered with a blanket. On the bedside table there is a bottle of water and pills with a mild stimulant.

Who's so caring? I peered at the residual trace of aura on the bottle and raised an eyebrow in surprise. Garrus. In principle, why am I surprised? The crew is eliminated by default. Our relationship with the XO is restrained and distant, and we communicate exclusively on issues related to the ship and crew. Jeff is barely able to walk to his cabin. Karin would rather send someone without leaving the infirmary. Liara and Tali? Extremely doubtful. Kayden? He wouldn't risk it, even if the thought occurred to him. That thought would never come to Ashley. Rex? Oh yeah... That's exactly the case... Rather, it will drip on the other's brains. And I even know a potential greben victim. That leaves the Turians. Nihlus most likely went straight to bed, but Garrus, having overslept under "Mako", could well be curious. Karin, for example, gets up early. Our good doctor could easily have hinted... well, or just directly tell the guy your "fe" in an extremely polite way ... moreover, in a way that you can't say obscenities. Especially for the ignored attempt to reach out to his sense of responsibility and prudence. Garrus is caring and responsible, and already considers me a friend, so he could have gone and checked on me. It's nice when someone cares just like that, of their own volition, and not out of mercantile interest or out of necessity...

Speaking of Garrus...

The Turian was in the dining room. Garrus was deep in thought and barely noticed his surroundings, absently pushing a piece of meat around his plate with a fork and hypnotizing the half-eaten food. Today, for the first time on board the Normandy, he changed into civilian clothes: tight trousers made of thick black fabric, boots with magnetic soles that I already know, and a dark blue tank top T-shirt. His right shoulder is bandaged, and there is a piece of plaster on his neck under his jaw, hiding a chemical burn from the rachni toxin. There is a strange dull melancholy and despondency in the emotions. Why is he in such a positive mood this morning?

I picked up the tray and went to the counter. The smiling chef generously poured me a delicious-looking portion, and was not at all surprised when I stole a Turian drink from the counter. Apparently, he has already learned about the peculiarities of his captain. Thanking the chef, who was blazing with gratitude, I sat down at the table with Garrus. He only noticed me when I waved my hand in front of his face. The absent look perked up, the guy cheered up, although a slight apprehension remained. M-mm... is he waiting to be scolded for arbitrariness regarding my carcass? No need, I appreciate the concern.

"Thank you." smiling, she added: "I appreciated it."

Garrus blinked in surprise, looked at me strangely, and relaxed.

"Have a nice day, Rin."

"Did Karin swear too much?"

Irony flashed in his bright blue eyes.

"How to say it. I learned a lot of interesting things about myself." The irony became clearer. "Especially for ignoring her, sleeping rough with a wound, and not coming to the infirmary right after returning to the ship."

"I guess it's been the most difficult lately."

The Turian shrugged, mandibles twitching slightly.

"The wound is through, clean. I don't see any point in staying in the infirmary."

"How did you escape?"

The Turian looked slightly embarrassed.

"I said I wanted to go and check on your condition. I was mercifully released with pills and an order to report for a dressing in the morning. Garrus shook his head. - Dr. Karin does not accept any explanations and excuses when it comes to health?"

"No. It is more profitable to surrender voluntarily. There will be less later... sanctions."

"A stern woman."

The conversation turned to light and non-stressful topics. I ate, and Garrus stopped playing with the food and took the plates to the sink. I didn't want to go anywhere. The dining room was quiet and peaceful.

A leisurely conversation about nothing gradually turned to our mission.

"Is there any information about Saren's whereabouts?"

"Yes. We'll take a look at the Citadel, report to the Council, replenish supplies, and set off. Nihlus promised to scare the Special Corps about new weapons. I'm a beginner, they won't let me into arsenals with really worthwhile weapons. And they are not located in the C-Sec, but in closed sectors. So think about what you'd like to get while you still have the opportunity."

Garrus nodded slowly.

"Will the whole group disembark?"

"No"

"The reason?"

I rested my chin on my clasped hands, staring intently at the face of the Turian sitting across from me. Reason. What an interesting question...

"Lack of protection on the mind. I can't take anyone with me who might fall victim to the Reaper. I need Tali as a technician, but I can cover for her. Or knock it out."

"Who's going with you?"

"Nihlus. And maybe... you."

"Is it possible?" Displeasure and interest flashed in his bright blue eyes.

"It all depends on your decision."

"Walking together is suicide. I don't consider Tali as a full-fledged fighter. She's too vulnerable." Garrus sighed. "As I understand it, the penetration should be stealthy?"

"Yes."

"That means three or four fighters. What do I need to do?"

"Required? Nothing. I need your voluntary and informed permission."

"Do the same as for Nihlus?" Garrus cocked his head to the side. "Put protection on the mind?"

"Yes."

"Rin, why do you think I'll be against it?" misunderstanding and... annoyance, tinged with resentment, were clearly heard in the vibrating voice.

That's it... I didn't want him to be offended.

"Garrus, you have no idea what I'm going to do."

"Why is that? I can imagine." understanding flashed in the blue eyes, and the resentment disappeared into a trace of light irony. "Nihlus told me."

"When?"

"The next morning." Garrus shook his head. "He said it without really giving any information. For all the answers, come to you." I leaned back in my chair, frowning into those piercing blue eyes. Nihlus, in principle, did the right thing. But now I have to answer some questions. We just need to decide which ones.

"Let's go to the cabin. There is no need to talk about such things here. Is Nihlus up yet?"

"Yes."

Nihlus was really awake: the Turian was half-sitting on a cot, leaning back against the wall, and reading something from a datapad, with his long legs thrown over the back of a chair, carefully placed in a convenient place. He greeted our arrival without surprise, just greeted me with a nod and put down the datapad.

"Colleague. Be so kind and turn on your toy." I grumbled, taking the chair away.

Nihlus sat down, pulled the pyramid of the jammer out of his pocket, put it on the table and turned it on.

"Is it time to talk?" he asked.

"Yes. Although I'm not sure if Garrus really WANTS to know all this."

"I can tell he doesn't want to." Nihlus chuckled. "Information... What did you say? Enchanting."

Garrus sat on his bunk, waiting patiently while I gathered my thoughts and figured out what I could tell him without putting him in harm's way.

"I got into this reality about a month ago, two days before landing on Eden Prime." I began. Garrus jerked up, surprise flashing brightly. "Time after time, after death, I am reborn in the embodied reality of a key figure, sending her soul into the general Circle of Rebirth with decent compensation, which guarantees a happy birth in a stable reality. This time, I hit Commander Shepard. You've never met my recipient, and you wouldn't really like her. Nihlus had the good fortune to meet her before my arrival. Shepard is a more cruel and calculating version of Ashley, slightly more tolerant of outsiders."

Nihlus grimaced.

"We couldn't have worked together."

I chuckled ironically.

"Have you forgotten anything?"

Nihlus sighed, squinted at me, waved me away.

"I remember I was supposed to die on Eden Prime."

Garrus stared at his kinsman in disbelief.

"Should you have?"

Nihlus grimaced and nodded.

"Even though I was warned, I was mortally wounded."

"This is the peculiarity of embodied reality. Her story has ALREADY been written out and is quite static. The so-called "canon". There are major nodal points that CANNOT be changed no matter how hard you try. There are events that can be changed, even if it is difficult. Nihlus' death was one such event. By all the rules of this reality, he should have died at the spaceport on Eden Prime from being shot in the back of the head by his beloved mentor. I knew about it, and I managed to change the predetermined course of history. With difficulty: reality resists, and instead of a fatal shot to the head, Nihlus caught a fatal one in the chest. Something else is worse. The inhabitants of this reality cannot go against its laws. Only the one who comes from the outside."

"How are you?"

"Like me. It's a kind of symbiosis: reality gets a chance for survival and development, and I get a new one... An interesting life," Then Nihlus couldn't stand it and laughed softly, but I ignored him. "And the opportunity to develop. This is my job. To disrupt the chain of events and push reality out of the rut of the canon. If this is not done, by the end of the story, reality will lose its nourishment from the egregore that gave rise to it and collapse. A dry Branch. There are countless such dead Branches. Not everyone gets people like me: there are a lot of rebirths, but not enough to cover the ENTIRE Probability Tree. Not everyone copes with their task and perishes along with reality. I came at a good moment and was able to make the first change: saved Nihlus' life. The more such changes accumulate, the easier and more flexible the reality will be. I can't tell you what I know. If Nihlus is dead to this universe and free of his destiny, having fulfilled it in full, then you are not yet. There will be countless accidents and accidents, but in any case, you will find yourself in the right situation. I've already seen it happen.

"Is this the reason why Nihlus was officially dead at the time of the investigation into Saren's betrayal?" Garrus asked, staring intently at my face.

He's smart. I immediately realized where and how I had covered up Nihlus.

"Before I received Spectr status, yes. This is the final event of the chain that began on Eden Prime. All the necessary conditions have been fulfilled."

"What would have happened if the truth had come out sooner?"

"Nihlus wouldn't have lived an hour. Anything from short-circuited equipment, a xenophobic attack from one of the crew, a heart failure, a Normandy explosion, a meteorite fall, or a ram from a ship that suddenly lost control. I have seen completely impossible and idiotic accidents, such as a wooden box falling out of an airplane flying overhead, which deliberately crashed on the victim's head and pierced through ten floors. It seems funny, as long as it doesn't concern the one you're trying to save."

Garrus was dejectedly silent, digesting my words. Did he believe me? I believed it. Nihlus, who agreed with me, was a good confirmation of the crazy words.

"What needs to be done?" he finally asked.

"Save civilization without resorting to a very dubious canonical method. Or ruin her. Both options guarantee the survival of reality, but in the second case..." I spread my hands.

"The second option in case the first one fails?" Garrus chuckled.

"Right. And it's enough for me to just DO NOTHING."

The blue-eyed Turian rubbed his comb thoughtfully and asked an extremely interesting question:

"How can I help if my actions are harsh... Are they predestined?"

"First of all, not actions, but just two events."

"One of them is our meeting in front of the Council Chamber, and the second... the second one will be after the invariable key point, it will also give you the opportunity to get you out from under the chain of events. But not now. You're lucky you're not a key figure in history like Saren. Our flight to Vermier is the third Change that I plan to push through. The second was the rescue of Benezia. She should have died too."

"The third is Saren's rescue?"

"Yes. The chances are slim. Even worse than Nihlus. Saren doesn't have a single gap at all, and he ends up dead by my hand or his own. But there is still a chance. We will arrive BEFORE we have to, there will be no assault, the chain of events has been disrupted from the very beginning. A small group will go. We'll fly to Feros later. A Thorian can be killed at any moment, he is not particularly valuable."

The Turin man cupped his face in his hands and muttered dully:

"Why do I believe you?"

Nihlus and I exchanged glances.

"You tell us."

"It's so crazy that it could be true." The confused ligth blue eyes looked somehow lost, but at the same time, stubbornness was growing stronger somewhere in the depths. "Such lies are meaningless."

"An interesting thought."

Garrus snorted.

"Does it make sense to ask where accurate knowledge of history comes from?"

"No." The blue eyes narrowed. "Not yet." I corrected myself.

Garrus nodded slowly, accepting my decision, but he looked hard. He won't forget, and sooner or later, he'll shake out the truth. Meanwhile, Nihlus, who was lazily listening to our conversation, pulled the chair closer to him with a sudden jerk. I was taken aback by this turn of events. What is he going to do?

"Rin, please explain one thing to me..."

The soft, vibrating voice with a barely audible rumble made my hair stand on end all over my body.

"What moment?" I asked cautiously, looking into unexpectedly angry green eyes.

"What were you thinking when you exposed your head to the rays of a ghost? One finger to the right, and what did you say? Hello, a new rebirth?"

"Op-pa... And what can I say? It's pointless to make excuses, he won't understand. To say that I'm kind of a Spectrum too, and it's only natural that I might get hit... It's also pointless. He knows that very well himself. And he's right about something. I really shouldn't have put my HEAD up. Remind HIM that HE can change reality now, too? If I say anything, the usually calm Nihlus will just strangle me. By himself, so that it wouldn't hurt if they shot the idiot. Thoughts about this were VERY clearly floating in the upper layers of my mind, and what scared me the most was that completely similar ideas, only in a different interpretation, were running around in Garrus' head.

I just spread my hands. She turned and met Garrus' gaze. Exactly the same expression. Complete solidarity! Did they conspire? I looked at Nihlus. The same displeased expression on his face, eyes narrowed, looks hard and intently.

"I remember what you said about enhanced regeneration, Rin. As well as the fact that guaranteed death is either the loss of the head or the destruction of the body. In other cases, there is a chance to survive. And the very next day, you expose your head to Geth's shots. Knowing WHAT's at stake. Knowing..."

Oh my... Her voice is trembling with rage. Garrus's lingering anger is at the back. At the same time, the rays flew over the ridge, but that's okay, it's normal...

I had no idea that the usually calm and reasonable Nihlus could SO inventively devour a brain from scratch! And Garrus also helped.

I listened in silence, without objecting a single word or even trying to cut into this monologue in two voices. Yes, they talked about duty, about mission, about saving civilization, about fighting the Reapers, and other kind of right things, but... the real reason was much simpler and more natural. I wasn't listening to the words. It's just a shell for feelings and emotions, from which the mental was bubbling. All the objections or the desire to somehow justify themselves or shut up these two in any other way crumbled under a single feeling that pushed them to do so... violent display of emotions. An ordinary and completely banal fear. Fear of loss.

Chapter 23: Rollback

Three days flew by swiftly in one chaotic layer of memories. Work, work, work, work, occasionally interrupted for food and sleep. And that's forced. I hardly left the infirmary, spending long hours in the mental space of the matriarch's mind, untangling the numerous cords that attach the drill to the victim's consciousness and subconscious. And there were just an obscene number of these strands, from strong to almost imperceptible, affecting the shades of meaning and the smallest nuances. All this required accuracy, patience and, most importantly, time. And, as always, there is not enough of it at the right moment, but at the wrong time - it stretches and stretches, exhausting the nerves...

I shook my head. Unnecessary thoughts. In eleven hours, Normandy will come out of the tunnel at the Citadel repeater, and I haven't even finished with the drill yet! May this Nazara burn in the flames of decay! Paranoid creature! The ancient bastard! That's WHY it was necessary to tie this fucking drill to a subconscious layer of instincts? What for??? No, I understand that these are the rules of the mentalist's work: to stabilize the aggressor's structure as much as possible, tying it to the body's natural reactions! But not to the same extent! Give me a quiet ten days, and I'll take all this crap off without a trace, it's elementary, though unnecessarily complicated! But! I DON'T have those ten days!

Honestly, I have other priorities right now... Shields for two overprotective Turians, who, I sensed perfectly well, were currently discussing something with Karin in the next room. Three mother hens, e-May! Oh, yeah... Five mother hens! Liara suddenly joined in, singing along with Karin almost instantly, and was torn with excitement between her mother, the limp doll sitting in front of me, and, in fact, my person, who now looks like a not-too-fresh corpse. Besides, Rex showed some attention, at least unobtrusively. But this red-faced, aggressive bastard had driven Garrus to a state of almost uncontrollable rage over the past three days, and the calm Nihlus to frenzy! As a result - sparring in the hold in full contact and with almost no restrictions! How Garrus got up the next day after such a beating, Chaos alone knows! Rex still walks cautiously, and turns his whole body, hissing and swearing at the "bony, nimble bastard". At first, Nihlus gave him a hard time, and Garrus added. The next day.

The weight finally thinned and disintegrated, releasing the connection with the instinctive reaction to bright light. Damn it, when I saw those three faces yesterday, I almost felt sick! I never thought that a Krogan could be so decorated in hand-to-hand combat in six minutes that Karin would mend him in the infirmary for an hour!

The door leading into the wall rustled, letting Garrus enter the infirmary, happy with his life. The Turian examined me carefully, noticed that I was no longer in a trance, nodded in greeting and handed me a food container.

"Are you feeding them?"

Garrus twitched his mandibles and smiled broadly. A Turian smile is something! An unprepared person will have a heart attack! Dilated mandibles, a completely carnivorous grin in all sharp wedge-shaped fangs... Lovely! And the eyes are snide, snide!

As it turned out, Vakarian is still an ulcer! Where is there a canonical image! During these days, he got used to it, calmed down and.. Here we go! Lively, sharp, quirky mind, rich imagination and perverted humor... It's just lovely! Moreover, Nihlus sometimes supports him in bullying his neighbor. And where did his tact go at the right moment? Wonders... Alenko was fucked up by these two brain bugs for half a day to such a state that he ran away to Liara and Rex. To study... Well, well... Rather, the unfortunate biotic asked Krogan for political asylum in the arsenal! But she's really studying now, and Liara has taken up a useful job, otherwise Azari was constantly jostling in the infirmary and hypnotizing her limp mother, greatly interfering and clogging her mental with bright powerful emotions. When I was ready to kick her out in a not-so-good way, Nihlus, who noticed my feisty face and a storm of emotions, talked the idle Garrus into it, and the two raped Kayden's brains, engaging the nervous Liara in at least some socially useful activity.

Garrus spread his hands, feigning remorse, and purred:

"You have to, since you regularly forget." I couldn't help but smile. He knows how much I appreciate your concern. After opening the container, I began to eat under the attentive gaze of incredibly bright blue eyes. The menu, as always, includes meat, meat, meat seasoned with various sauces, no side dishes, some kind of interesting salad and something unidentifiable, but VERY tasty. The food is clearly inhumane in the form of green lumpy mashed potatoes, but it tastes like fried potatoes with mushrooms and... mmm... a slight hint of pepper. After all, our chef is a genius!

"Have you tried on the role of a personal babysitter?" I raised an eyebrow, twirling some long green stuff around my fork. Garrus sprawled on the next bed, his mandibles twitching slightly from the pain in his injured shoulder. The tank top revealed in all its dubious glory juicy bluish bruises blooming on coffee-colored skin, and deep lacerations from claws. Atas... a domestic cat after the division of the territory... And the muzzle is just as pleased.

"Do you mind?"

"If I'd minded, you'd have been the second to find out. Right after me."

Garrus whinnied, involuntarily clutching his aching ribs.

"You tell me one thing. What didn't you share with Rex?"

"We just drew a line under old disagreements." The former C-Sec investigator grinned. "I've worked with him more than once... I've encountered it." The Turian diplomatically called them repeated shootings. "So the questions have accumulated."

"And you decided to discuss them in a fight?"

"In sparring." the guy corrected me, but the mug, the mug! He's positively beaming with joy.

"Oh yeah... I saw your "sparring". And I heard it. "You won't have time to mess up what Rex told you in three years, even if you try, but you've done it in six months!"

"I am very responsible about my work." Garrus nonchalantly waved his hand, and I saw a suspicious swelling on his side.

"What's that?"

"And... this." Garrus glanced at me, but confessed. "Rex broke the plate."

I closed my eyes. She exhaled slowly.

"Your mother! We're leaving for Vermaer soon! And I have three of the strongest fighters who brought each other to the infirmary! Shine is simple! Garrus, you're not going ANYWHERE if there's even a scratch on your skin! Do you understand me?"

The Turian nodded slowly, staring intently into my eyes. I'm glad that at least I took the warning seriously.

"How's the shoulder?"

"It's almost healed."

That's... well, how could you get into a fight with a Krogan in full contact with an untreated through wound! And Rex is good! An adult man, fought a lot, but here... Okay, Nihlus only got off with bruises and a couple of deep scratches, but Garrus is something... And to hell with them, well, they got into a fight, but not a week before the landing! Oh well... but at least they closed all their grates, otherwise they would listen to the constant conflicts between Garrus and Rex on the basis of their skirmishes on the Citadel... I'm sick of it! It was necessary to assemble a mercenary and a C-Sec investigator in one squad, who poisoned his life with gusto and ingenuity. Yes, he poisoned them... He almost killed him! The gods truly love Rex, since Garrus MISSED him and the bullet slid across his forehead instead of entering his temple. I saw this vivid image in Garrus' head: the first shot to Batar's forehead, the translation of the sight, the shot, the unsuccessfully tripping Krogan, the miss, the flash of irritation, the beep of reloading and the enemy running behind the box. Interestingly, Rex remembers this moment too.

"I hope this doesn't happen again. You can punch each other in the face for your own pleasure, but not to the detriment of combat readiness! I'll give Rex a separate pump later."

Garrus chuckled.

"No need. Nihlus had already done it when he saw it... the results of the battle."

"At least some of you had the brains to assess the consequences."

There was a satisfied chuckle from behind.

"Wow, what a thing... a high assessment of my mental abilities." Nihlus tore himself away from the wall, which he had been propping up with his shoulder all this time, came over and sat down on a chair.

"Be grateful that I didn't go through your very abilities for fighting on board."

"It was sparring." Nihlus grinned toothily, which looked very interesting with his ancestral tattoo.

"Don't tell me stories. I am quite able to distinguish sparring from a banal fight."

In response, impudent fanged heads and contented faces.

"You're eating. Sebastian will be offended if his efforts are not appreciated."

"I think. His efforts have ALREADY been appreciated by the ENTIRE crew." I smiled.

Sebastian's cooking was simply divine, although he sometimes complained that the one who bought the food was clearly thinking of the wrong place. We'll fly to the Citadel and send him shopping. This kind of food definitely lifts the mood and morale.

"What is the progress?" Nihlus nodded at Asari, who was sitting blankly in a trance.

"What is it?" I was wondering how to describe the situation so obscenely, poking a piece of meat with a fork. "It would have been ten days... but it's lousy. I don't have time to remove the drill before the Citadel. The entire array of bookmarks will remain untouched. Take it off for at least a week."

"Do you want to leave Benezia at the Citadel?"

"I'll have something to do on the way." Before Vermeer, by you, and after... I grimaced. "I think Saren's mind is in a terrible state. I don't even want to think about what the Reaper could have brought him to with constant contact. So the matriarch will have to wait. Although... - the thought that came to my mind was quite interesting, although Liara is unlikely to appreciate my idea of using her mother as a training ground for studying the mental skills of the Ruler.

I must have a really expressive face, because the Turians looked at each other and stared suspiciously at the blue lady.

"Liara won't appreciate it."

"Of course! But leaving it as it is is also not good. I shifted my gaze to the matriarch, giving her the order to sleep. "Garrus, have you changed your mind?"

Bright blue eyes looked at me with a degree of doubt and misunderstanding.

"no."

"Go-od." raising my head to the ceiling, I asked loudly: "Joker, how far are we to the Citadel?"

"Ten hours to exit the repeater, three more to the station." the pilot answered me, shamelessly eavesdropping on all conversations on the ship.

"Give me an hour's notice before you leave."

"OK."

I finished my meal and set the container aside.

"Garrus, now..."

"Now you go and get some sleep." The Turian snapped. "Have you seen yourself in the mirror?"

"I saw it. I shrugged my shoulders. - You have to pay for everything. I'll rest on the Citadel.

In response, there are two skeptical glances.

"There's not much time.

"It's always not enough." Nihlus replied softly. "Don't make us turn to Karin for help. She's had a tranquilizer gun ready since yesterday. And so they were barely dissuaded from the idea of trying it out."

A tranquilizer? Quite possibly. Moreover, Karin has been looking at me for the past day with equal parts concern and discontent. Apparently, Nihlus persuaded the doctor not to use extreme measures.

"Rin, upon arrival at the Citadel, you will have to report to the Council. You shouldn't go to them in this state."

"A couple of hours won't solve anything, since you're a week short." Garrus added.

And you're right...

- Okay. I raised my hands.

The Turians escorted me to my cabin under the curious gazes of the crew and dumped me.

I couldn't sleep at all. I was lying in bed and staring at the ceiling, and thoughts were crowding in my head, reminding me of the problems. Small and not so big. Benezia, who cannot be released from the ship, ten Asari marines sleeping in capsules, the Rachni queen, the crew, the Alliance, my former leadership, the Council, Saren, Nazara... I was sorting through my memory of the canon, and the more I studied it, the more I realized what kind of outright bullshit it was... hmm... Well, fuck him, the canon. But what should I do with the Lord? He won't miss the Normandy in any way. Not that level. Send the ship out of the system? Where and how far? How to intercept Saren in the lab and not bring the matter to a cannonball fight? I will deal with his condition when I can capture him. Not just the mental one. If my sclerosis doesn't let me down, his body has been plowed over a lot... I hope it didn't come to implants. What to do with the Reaper? Questions, questions...

My thoughts turned smoothly to the Normandy and, most importantly, to her crew. And here the problem arises in all its unsightly glory. Until now, I hadn't done anything that might interest my superiors, but during this flight, I felt close attention more than once. I know perfectly well that someone from the crew is tapping the Alliance's Air Force about all my actions. If earlier it was even to my advantage to some extent, now I don't need excessive awareness. And what should I do?

I rolled over onto my side, wrapping the blanket up to my eyes. Damn it! Cold... Not physically: the temperature in the cabin is quite comfortable. The cold comes from an excessive loss of vital energy. Mentalism is energy-intensive. Moreover, such a delicate and painstaking job. I will recover the losses only after two days, if there are no loads and with plenty of food. There is, of course, another way to quickly replenish losses, but it is not yet available to me. No. Not like that. Available, of course. But... It's better not to rush. There is a time for everything.

The doors began to move, allowing Nihlus to enter the cabin. I'm wondering how he convinced the ship's VEE to let him into the captain's cabin without my permission. Okay, everyone has their own secrets, but still... He's usually more sensitive about my personal space. And now... Did you really come to check if I was asleep or not?

I didn't even have to dive into his mind, it was enough to count the top images. Yes, I came. That's exactly what to check. Worried. My appearance caused quite reasonable concerns: pale, almost transparent skin, on which blue veins stand out vividly, dark circles under my eyes, twitchy movements, and low body temperature. And Karin compounded these fears with a report on the exhaustion of the body.

"You're not sleeping." - a quiet vibrating voice with a barely noticeable reproach.

A simple statement of fact.

"I can't." I replied softly, turning my head.

The Turian came over and squatted by the bed.

"You can." You're a mentalist, and you can do anything with your mind. I told you so myself.

"She did." I obediently agreed, shivering slightly from the cold. "But you shouldn't force yourself to sleep."

The green eyes narrowed. Who would have doubted that he would notice... A hot palm touched my forehead, physically radiating the energy I needed so much.

"Are you cold?"

A well-posed question.

"yes."

A short pause and another correct question:

Is it cold?

"no."

It didn't take him long to put one and one together.

"The reasons?"

I sighed.

"Everything requires energy. And mentalism, too. It's not critical. The body will recover in a day or two."

"And you're going to be cold all the time?" "What is it?" he asked skeptically.

"I will."

Nihlus fell silent, staring intently at my face. I could literally physically feel his presence: in this state, my body acquired all the features of an energy vampire, absorbing unattended energy from others, and now the only living being in the cabin was a Turian.

Any healthy organism always radiates vital energy into the surrounding space if it cannot direct it to its own needs or if it produces more than it needs to. Gradually, these surpluses form a peculiar aura. That's the feeling of a "lived-in" place. It doesn't matter if it's a house or a ship. That is why it is so unpleasant for any living person to be in burial sites, in abandoned houses or cities, on dead planets and ships. They completely lack this aura, and sometimes ancient buildings acquire the properties of a vampire. Burial grounds and necropolises are especially guilty of this.

The Normandy is a relatively new ship, it has not yet been properly inhabited, the feeling of home has not yet grown to it, and the vital aura has just begun to take shape. A year will pass, and it will acquire all the properties of a residential building. With an active life aura, wounds heal faster, the body rests and nourishes better, the psyche is more stable, and the intelligent are less susceptible to stress. Right now, Jeff is feeding the aura the most, having already managed to sincerely love this ship. But the harder it will be for him to part with it The Normandy is a relatively new ship, it has not yet been properly inhabited, the feeling of home has not yet grown to it, and the vital aura has just begun to take shape. A year will pass, and it will acquire all the properties of a residential building. With an active life aura, wounds heal faster, the body rests and nourishes better, the psyche is more stable, and the intelligent are less susceptible to stress. Right now, Jeff is feeding the aura the most, having already managed to sincerely love this ship. But the harder it will be for him to part with it. I perfectly understand why the Joker was so stubborn in the canon, couldn't bring himself to leave Normandy, and tried to save her until the very end. This is normal. He is her Core. He is the center of the formation of the vital aura, he is attached to the ship as a living being. Moreover, a sincerely adored being. It's a pity that this "Normandy" will die without becoming a full-fledged home for us.

Nihlus took his hand away, and I shuddered involunta

"Can I help you?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"You can."

Nihlus chuckled.

"Which question is the answer?" There was a hint of sad irony in his voice. "Rin, you know perfectly well what can help you now. I don't think this is your first time experiencing energy exhaustion. Am I right?"

I grimaced and nodded. Of course I do! Not that it's not the first time, but I'm in it with depressing regularity as soon as the problems start! And my life and my problems are synonymous.

"I'm listening to you carefully."

A veiled, but nevertheless tough order. Right now, he won't accept a rejection or a streamlined response. The question was asked with a clear and sincere desire to help. Nihlus is REALLY ready to do everything in his power. And he knows perfectly well that I feel it. He knows and uses it. Trust breeds trust... A mental mirror in all its dubious glory.

Yes, I can block the sensitivity and do it... some kind of decent stupidity, in a mild way, to send the Turian away... but why ? Why should I offend one of the few reasonable people who truly treat me with all their hearts? He genuinely cares about me. Without any subtext or ulterior motives. If I send him away with this concern now, it's like spitting in the soul. Such... He doesn't say goodbye. Never. At the level of instincts and subconsciousness. I know better...

"Mentalism, especially since it is so deep, consumes a lot of vital energy. I finally decided to answer." Any living being produces more of it than is required to meet the needs of its own body. This is a defense mechanism that allows you to compensate for unexpected expenses. The excess is poured into the surrounding space and forms a comfortable aura for life. The Norma has not yet managed to form its life aura completely: the core and main contours have just been born, because the ship is not yet perceived as a home. With a critical drop in vital energy, my body begins to pull it from the external environment, just like any other. Except that it's much more active. But there's nothing to delay here yet. So I'm freezing until my body covers the shortage on its own.

Nihlus silently rubbed his palm, looking questioningly into my eyes.

"Yes, with direct physical contact, you can delay much more and faster. Such a kind of energetic vampirism. It stops when the level necessary for normal functioning is restored, and then the shortage is covered by natural production."

"What is the barrier?"

"Some types of metals, inorganic compounds, or thick obstacles larger than sixteen centimeters. All animal or vegetable components such as wood, leather or natural fabrics are not a screen due to their origin."

"How much exhaustion do you have?"

"Not critical."

"Rin!"

I sighed.

"Half as much as is necessary for normal functioning. That's why it looks like this."

"How fast does your body absorb energy?"

"Depends on the source. Slightly more than the natural release of excess, but no more than one and a half values."

Apparently, Nihlus found out what he wanted. He got up, easily picked me up in his arms, wrapped me in a blanket, sat on the bed with his back against the wall, and sat me on his knees, hugging me tightly to his chest. And almost instantly I felt the deathly permafrost pass, my body was filled with warmth, and the reserve was rapidly replenished.

"Sleep." a calm, vibrant voice sounded above his head.

"Will you keep it that way?"

A quiet chuckle and an ironic question:

"Do you mind?"

"No. Just keep in mind... I can feel you."

"I'll get over it. Go to sleep."

I warmed up and quickly fell asleep. And for the first time since Eden Prime, I didn't have the bloody nightmares of a dying civilization...

Chapter 24: Surprises

The speakers clicked, and Jeff's voice said:

"Rin, it's an hour until the tunnel exits."

"Understood." I replied, barely able to open my eyes.

That's right... How did it pass me by?! I blinked, but reality didn't change. Bright light blue eyes looked at me with interest. Is that when Garrus showed up in my cabin?

Someone fidgeted nearby, and there was a muffled curse, uttered in a familiar, low, vibrating voice. Oh my... And Nihlus is here...

"How are you feeling?" Garrus asked, helping me sit up.

How's that? Yes, it's good! It's one thing to rob one person, but it's quite another to rob two.

"Great."

The sleepy face of Nihlus came into view.

"What did I miss?"

Garrus answered my question by telling me the following. About four hours later, after Nihlus came to check on my condition and didn't come back, Garrus decided to ask where he was. Found out. On what basis it was launched VI is a mystery shrouded in darkness, but I seriously suspect that our inquisitive pilot is involved. Anyway, I came and saw this picture: Nihlus, who was thoroughly frozen, unconscious, and I, who was not far from the deceased in terms of body temperature. Garrus was visibly scared, but then Nihlus came to his senses and dedicated our precious sniper to the essence of the problem. After that, I unloaded me to him, and he curled up into a compact ball and fell asleep. By the way, it is quite a normal reaction of the body to such losses: to sleep off and warm up. Garrus himself was only slightly frozen: my reserve was already almost full, and I didn't need much energy. True, he was already being robbed by Nihlus, but very weakly and almost imperceptibly.

The most interesting thing is that Garrus told all this with a bit of humor and considerable irony, not forgetting to hint a couple of times that such consequences should be reported before it was too late. There was a simple answer to my attempt to thank you:

"That's what... friends are for."

We had cleaned up and eaten in an hour, and now we were lazing around. I checked on the matriarch: Lady Benezia was still in a state of deep sleep, the cords that had been sharpened yesterday had disintegrated, but the drill was still sitting tight, although not as much as before. Really, three days of work, and it can be safely deleted. Leaving the Lady in the infirmary under Karin's care, I ran all over the ship. I checked the queen: rahni was sleeping peacefully in her box and didn't cause any problems. Rex dug himself into the arsenal and, at my request, compiled a list of what we could use to get from the large arsenals of the Special Corps at the first opportunity. At the same time, he handed over a list of spare parts for our Mako, compiled by Garrus, who repaired the all-terrain vehicle for nothing. Tali and Adams were discussing some technical issues. Liara ran off to the infirmary to her mother. Peace and grace...

And then the most unpleasant part began: checking the crew. I walked slowly around the ship, talking to people, surreptitiously scanning their minds.

I hate this kind of scan... For the sake of a single piece of information, you have to shake up a lot of thoughts and emotions. Anyone who thinks it's interesting can dig in the trash. It feels very similar.

People don't even understand what's really going on in their head. Conscious thoughts are just a tiny tip of a huge iceberg, the results of the work of a whole layer of thoughts, instincts and reactions of the body. For example, a guy named Robert, who is currently checking navigation systems, thinks about his colleague Elena, who is sitting at the next terminal. A conscious thought is quite decent: the guy thinks that the girl is very beautiful. But here is the foundation hiding under this idea... There's a lot here. The natural reaction of a young man's body: reaction to the smell, to the appearance, to the motor skills and plasticity of the movements of the object of lust. This is followed by unconscious instincts and images in which the subconscious very clearly shows exactly what it wants to do with this young lady: desire and lust. Conclusions that are practically conscious of the mind: it is suitable for procreation. The result of reflection is an attractive girl. A separate stream is the analysis of her personality: spiritual qualities, mind, character. And all this entails a simple statement of the fact that the girl is beautiful... But there is also a third layer - these are emotions, an analysis of the environment... I'm just ecstatic about it all! And, most importantly, do not filter out all this stuff! I'm already silent about the fragmentation and confusion of thinking, which makes the hair stand on end all over the body.

At least the unnecessary analysis results can be simply erased without cluttering up the memory. I can live very well without knowing how the crew members spend their free time. There's nothing interesting anyway, and I already know the gossip: Jeff, out of the goodness of his heart, throws me excerpts of particularly interesting pearls from the idle chatter of the crew. To know exactly how these gossips formed in the brains of the alternatively intelligent crew members... Come on to the demons! I caught one of them out of the corner of my eye, and it was amazing. And he looks like such a calm and proper guy...

I can still understand the gossip that I'm sleeping with both Turians. It's not a problem to find a reason, especially considering their touching care and spending the night in my cabin. On Egros, a pale, trembling mentalist sitting with someone in an embrace was a common and natural phenomenon, like clouds in the sky. But that's how Rex and Tali got mixed up in our cute threesome... especially Tali, who can't last long without her spacesuit and doesn't actually get out of the maintenance bay, my imagination is stalling. And there are discussions about who has whom, how and in what positions... it's better for the fighters not to know this, otherwise, I'm afraid, someone with a very sick imagination will fly into outer space without a spacesuit.

It's necessary... Rex, it turns out, was trying to clean the faces of both crested for a place in my bed. (Apparently the author got fed up with the comments.) I can't fucking get up! And the ideas of what Garrus does all day long under "Mako" generally amazed me to the depths of my soul and led me into a stupor. Yeah, with the Krogan... who just won't fit there physically in SUCH a position. If Rex or Garrus finds out, the Normandy will wash itself in blood. Literally. For such an insult, any Turian would kill on the spot. And the Krogan, too. And I won't even stop them.

I understand everything: abstinence, prohibition, a new female captain and a bunch of aliens on board, but you need to know the measure! A haven for old, depraved gossips, not the crew of a battleship... It's a good thing that Ashley and Kayden aren't involved in this, but you can see from their guilty faces that they know, but they're silent. And they are right to remain silent. They understand what this means.

If I want to kill the whole crew, it will be enough for me to show all this happiness to Rex, Garrus and Nihlus. They themselves will throw these idiots into space and will watch the swimming with interest.

Wearily rubbing the bridge of my nose, I focused on the scan. Pressley turned out to be clean and had no bad thoughts, which pleased me immensely. Whatever he was, he might have been itching about the unacceptability of so many xenos on board, but he was doing his job properly. And with all my might. Having puzzled the guy by compiling a list of absences for those who did not take a walk on our last visit to the Citadel and having taken the ship's condition report from him, I went to the Joker to cool off, not forgetting to go through the brains of the crew sitting in the navigation compartment.

One of the operators knocked on the Alliance's superiors. At first, I had the idea to stuff him with all sorts of joy, but I decided to regret his sound thinking and lack of a bad fantasy and made do with a filter bookmark that was not dangerous to the mind. The information about Benezia will go away in a generalized form and without specifying my digging into her brain, the guy will safely forget about the suspicious box, and in a couple of hours he will be picked up from the ship. When I entered the control room, the Joker was just arguing with the Citadel dispatcher, trying to squeeze out of the queue of traffic.

"I'm sorry, but we can't provide you with a hallway." An irritated and tired voice answered. "Frigate Normandy, you belong to the Alliance fleet and will be moved in..."

"We have a Spectr of Advice on board." Joker immediately reported, carefully circling the Asari's hefty, sprawling trough.

The dispatcher hesitated.

"There are a lot of Spectres coming to the Citadel right now. You will be moved..."

"We have TWO Spectr on board!"

A short pause.

"Please provide their names."

"The spectr of Nihlus Krayk and the Spectr of Irene Shepard." The pilot said with a pleased face.

The dispatcher was silent for about a minute, apparently checking the information. Finally, a slightly surprised response:

"A permanent berthing area number 7-9834-38 has been allocated for you in the area of the Special Tactical Intelligence Corps. Hallway..." next is a long number. "Citadel Control, over and out."

End of communication.

The Joker, humming a song to himself, stretched contentedly, and then noticed me.

"Captain!"

"Are you taking advantage?"

I leaned against the ever-empty copilot's seat.

"There's a queue for clocks even for warships!"

"And why are you so happy?"

"The permanent site is attached to the ship, regardless of whether it is on the station or not. It's like a private parking space." the pilot explained willingly. "Now we won't have to hang out in queues."

At least something good.

"Apparently, your mission is important enough for the Council, since we were allowed into the ports of the Special Corps." Jeff shook his head.

"Our mission is VERY important."

The Joker nodded, and pulled out a datapad from somewhere under the chair. The anticipatory smile with which the pilot handed me this quite ordinary device made it clear WHAT was written on it.

"Again, or what?"

"It's a real holiday today!"

I sat in the copilot's seat, turned on the datapad, and started reading. By the end of the rather lengthy file, my eye was twitching and my fingers were twitching nervously from the desire to rip out someone's tongue. Taking a slow, deep breath, I turned off the datapad and shoved it into my pants pocket.

"You know, if Nihlus finds out, at least... I'm just not talking about Garrus or Rex... We will not wash the ship of blood."

The Joker nodded. But he couldn't help but chuckle.

"It's not funny, Jeff," I said, closing my eyes to calm my anger. "They'll just kill them, and no one in Citadel Space will blame them for that. Does Kayden know that they've already gotten to him?"

"Not yet."

"And where did they get such a sick fantasy from?" I asked resignedly.

The Joker laughed, but said nothing, steering the ship towards the huge station. It's funny to him... He just doesn't understand how it can end! He thinks the fighters are laughing and that's it. Nothing like that! And fuck them if they just thought nasty things and quietly rustled in their cabins, but no... The crew members were discussing it in the canteen! Do they even have an instinct for self-preservation? I know for sure that Garrus has a long knife hidden in his shoe, which only falls a little short of the definition of a "short sword". Although the handle looks organic among a bunch of fasteners and bells and whistles, it is not particularly hidden. Nihlus has a knife too. And a sword that can easily cut through light armor. He wears it on his hip without hiding it at all. And these assholes think Nihlus is just messing around. The idiots. Turians don't know the concept of "decorative weapons" at all! And they know how to use all the weapons they carry on themselves! Always. No exceptions!

What were they taught at all?

At least the XO, Ashley and Kayden don't suffer from such idiocy... Pressley looks at the predatory blade with respect and a degree of hostile apprehension, as well as at Nihlus himself.

This time, the Normandy approached the Citadel from the other side, taxiing to the attachment point of one of the "petals", where the ports of the SPECTR were located. The density of the flow of ships here was low, and for the most part there were personal ships of the Spectr at the berthing sites.

Nihlus came into the control room. The Joker nodded at him in greeting, without distracting himself from his work.

"Is your ship here too?" I asked.

"Yes. It's three tiers lower, in the hangar. Ships that are preparing for departure are at the mooring sites. The rest are being dragged to hangars so that they don't take up space."

A short jolt signaled the activation of the grapples: the Normandy moored to the site. Garrus was already waiting for us near the airlock, dressed in civilian clothes and with a powerful pistol on his belt. Liara chose to stay on the ship with her mother this time.

The ports of the Special Corps were practically no different from similar sites of the military port, except that no one approached us, and the C-SEC fighters standing at the elevator doors glanced at us indifferently, but showed no particular interest.

"Have you contacted the Council?" I asked when the doors closed and the elevator went down.

"Yes. The advisor is already waiting." seeing my surprise, Nihlus explained. "Sparatus oversees our assignment, and we report to him. There are many spectr in the Galaxy. The Council cannot meet for every report."

It makes perfect sense.

"Why him?"

"Spectr's are usually recruited from the races that have joined the Council: Salarians, Asari, and us. Operatives report to an adviser of their own race, which makes it easier to work and understand, but there is no human adviser, and you need to work somehow. Since I was supposed to be your supervisor, you were assigned to our corps after you were awarded Spectr status."

"It's interesting..."

That's the twist... It turns out that I've been assigned to the Spectr Turian Corps. A human! Cool! If the real Shepard were in my place, there would be no conflicts... download it. Just brilliant!

"Whose idea was it?"

"Valern." Nihlus chuckled.

"Did he kindly decide to plant something nasty on a colleague? And Sparatus agreed?"

"Surprisingly, he agreed. He's human, though... not that he hates, but he dislikes, that's for sure. Especially after some kind of murky story with Saren."

"Then I don't understand him."

"Me too." Nihlus spread his hands. "The allocation was made immediately after the decision was made to grant you the status. Do you mind?"

"Why all of a sudden?" I was surprised. "Sparatus is a sensible guy, and I didn't notice any negativity in my direction. Although there was hostility at the first meeting of the Council. I don't understand at all what changed in a couple of hours, but he behaved differently at the second meeting. With some humor, I would say."

The music in the elevator changed, getting really boring. Was it really impossible to record something better after building such a station? At least the sound quality! Or is it such sophisticated sadism? The elevator, as if mocking, crawled like a mortally wounded caterpillar. But finally, this harassment ended, and we fell out onto a small square, from the edge of which a golden taxi terminal shone invitingly at us.

"Where to go?"

"It's night on the Citadel right now, by the way." Nihlus chuckled. "Sparatus is waiting at home."

I wonder if Nihlus just called his relative out of the goodness of his heart in the middle of the night, or did he contact him first and then find out the time? Sparatus' decision is, in principle, logical: they woke you up anyway, so why prolong the "pleasure"?

"Couldn't you wait until morning?"

"Haymon ordered me to report immediately." The Turian shrugged his shoulders.

"Who?"

Nihlus laughed softly.

"Haymon Sparatus. That's his name."

A taxi stopped in front of the terminal and expectantly raised the canopy of the cabin.

It didn't take long to get to the house I already knew. Garrus tried to leave, apparently not wanting to be in front of the clear eyes of the adviser, but Nihlus, wincing, did not allow him to do so.

Sparatus met us in a familiar room, where, to our surprise, Tevos turned out to be. Garrus' presence only drew interested glances, but I didn't notice any dissatisfaction or indignation. Sparatus, of course, recognized Vakarian, but reacted with a touch of irony.

"Councilor Sparatus, Councilor Tevos." Nihlus, as the most senior of us, took on the role of negotiator.

Sparatus gestured to the couch opposite, ordering him to sit down. So we sat down in a row: Nihlus, me, Garrus. Tevos watched us with mild interest, but, on the whole, benevolently. Nihlus did not wait for the order and briefly described the situation on Noveria, but for some reason did not report the result of our revelries, sleeping in the cabin, the infirmary and the hold.

"What is the fate of Lady Benezia?" Tevos asked softly.

"The matriarch is in the Normandy infirmary."

"The reason?"

Nihlus looked at me. Tevos raised her eyebrows in surprise, exchanged glances with Sparatus.

"The state of the matriarch..." Nihlus stammered, and then just waved his hand and said in plain text: "Matriarch Benezia is still under the Reaper's control."

The advisers were not surprised, but Nihlus' words were unpleasant and raised huge issues.

"Tell us more about it."

"When we arrived on Noveria, Matriarch Benezia was already there and was in the risk laboratory, where they managed to recreate the rachni queen from the eggs found on the wrecked ship."

But now the amazement splashed on all sides.

"Where is the Rachni queen now?" Tevos asked.

"In a box in the hold." Nihlus answered automatically with a phrase that he had to say twenty times in the last four days, and that's why it easily and naturally fell off his tongue.

Sparatus choked on his words and coughed, and Tevos barely managed to control her surprise, not letting her jaw drop unsightly.

"Spectr Nihlus, did we hear wrong?"

"No. Queen Rachni is in a box in the hold of the Normandy." Nihlus repeated once more with a stony face. "She's asking for protection."

"Are you sure?" Asari asked in amazement.

She is ready to become a part of our civilization.

"The condition?"

"A planet where she can revive her family. The Queen is ready to fight our enemies. She knows about the Reapers and will help."

For the first time, I saw the confusion on Sparatus and Tevos' faces.

"Who was in contact with the Queen?"

"Irene."

And again that look of hungry predators looking at a delicious piece of meat. Interesting, interesting... I'm tempted to get into their brains and find out why they're so intrigued. But I stepped on my throat, and I didn't climb in. Today's crew scan was enough for me. I don't want to be disappointed in these reasonable ones.

"What can you say about the queen?" Sparatus asked, staring intently into my eyes.

He was wrong, of course, but I respected the man, and that's why his secrets remained secrets. She communicates mentally, is not capable of lying in principle, and is submissive because she understands the situation. She admitted that her appearance was controlled, and the aggression was provoked. By the mental imprint on Benezia's mind, she recognized the Reaper. I am ready to cooperate and become our ally. I decided it was unwise to destroy the queen or leave her on Noveria, so we took her with us. She's in a dream state right now."

"The reason for this decision?" Tevos asked with interest.

"It might come in handy."

From this formulation of the answer and the motivation of the act, Sparatus chuckled and looked at Nihlus in great surprise. My partner pretended to be blind and deaf.

"Rahni are strong fighters." I added hesitantly. "They can be useful if you can keep the queen safe."

"Where is the ship?"

"On the site you have selected."

"We'll pick her up."

We nodded simultaneously. Garrus pretended to be part of the decor, even though he was listening very carefully to the conversation. The councilors sometimes glanced at the young Turian, but so far they had not touched him, although they remembered him.

"You said that the matriarch is still under the influence of the Reaper." Tevos said softly.

"Yes."

"How does this influence manifest itself?"

"Mental bookmarks and a subordinate channel." I replied. "Lady Benezia will do EVERYTHING on Saren's orders. Controlling strings are tied to him, but indirectly, and, if necessary, the Ruler can easily replace the image of the Anchor and redirect loyalty to his other puppet."

"Where does this information come from?" Sparatus rasped.

"I can see it. And to remove, however, with great difficulty. In four days, it was only possible to squeeze the channel of mental communication with the Lord and partially remove the weights."

It took us a long time to decide whether to tell the Council about my mentalist gift or not, but we still came to the conclusion that it was worth it. But - partially, without telling the true possibilities. Gradually, as needed, more information can be provided, but for now... Now I need to at least teach my advisors that I can restore my mind after the Reaper's intervention. It's still impossible to hide the gift, especially after Saren's capture. So let them find out from us now rather than from someone else later.

Tevos carefully chose her words:

"Irene's spectr. Can you see interference in someone else's mind?"

"I can. But it requires effort, rest, and greatly weakens the body. Three days of working with the matriarch ended in severe exhaustion."

The counselor nodded slowly, looking at my still pale face with beautiful circles under sleepy eyes.

"Can you completely free her from the influence?"

"Yes, in ten or twelve days. After that, the matriarch will need complete peace and a friendly environment so as not to provoke the protective mechanisms of consciousness."

"Do you have those ten days?"

I shook my head.

"In a day we will fly to Vermaer for Saren. The sooner we get him, the better... there are more chances that the identity will be preserved."

"There are no objections." Sparatus snapped. "What other information did you find out?"

Nihlus has conceded the dubious pleasure of reporting to me.

"We found out that the true purpose of Rachni's rebirth is the coordinates of the relay leading to Ilos. That's where the entrance to the Canal is located. As it turns out, this is the only repeater created by non-Reapers! It was made by the Protheans."

The councillors exchanged glances again. Amazing mutual understanding! They don't even need to speak out loud: they understand each other by the smallest facial expressions and body movements.

"What is the value of this repeater?"

"In my opinion, it's only the creation technology. We are too dependent on repeaters, too vulnerable. We need OUR OWN relays, not those made by our enemy!"

Tevos nodded in agreement.

"Did you get the coordinates?"

"We found out, but they are very vague. A search is required. The approximate location is the Terminus system. The relay was shifted due to a supernova explosion. I'll tell you the exact coordinates later, when I can narrow down the search region. There are Prothean Archives on Ilos. If there's anything left."

"As soon as you find out the coordinates of the repeater on Ilos, let us know immediately." Sparatus's voice was a rasp of metal. "We will send a fleet."

Nihlus tilted his head slightly to one side.

"Terminus systems will be... They are unhappy."

"It's high time to clean this sewer." the adviser snapped harshly. "This is not the situation to coddle this rabble."

"The Alliance will be outraged."

"These are our problems." Asari replied softly with a completely leering smile.

I nodded. Udina will yell in a bad voice and eat her brain with a coffee spoon through her ears, but Tevos is an experienced politician and will cope with the old brainiac. Sparatus, as always, will assume the appearance of a skeptical, stubborn, narrow-minded warrior and diplomatically send an ambassador to deep space. Valern will freeze off. They're funny, these advisers. They have beautifully distributed the roles and play them well. I am glad that in reality they turned out to be smart, moderately paranoid and cautious people. At the same time, with a certain amount of adventurousness: they did not immediately reject my words, but gave me a chance to prove my case.

"Will do."

"What else have you learned?"

"Eta Hawking system, the Thorn system, the Mnemosyne planet. In its orbit is a half-dead Reaper, about thirty-seven million years old." The councillors shuddered. "The creature is relatively safe, since it cannot move and does not show active signs of life, but it puts pressure on the brain and can subdue. It should be captured and studied, first making sure that the Reaper does not regenerate."

"Do you want to personally participate in this mission?" Tevos asked.

"That would be highly desirable. I need to know what to really expect from the Reapers, and where to look for the brains of the Overlord. But that's after we get back from Vermaer, otherwise I'm afraid there won't be anyone left to save."

"We will prepare a squadron." Tevos nodded. "What do you know about this Reaper?"

"Only that he was shot at and shot down, critically wounding."

"By what?"

"I don't know. Some kind of weapon based on the mass effect. There is no exact information. That's all we've been able to find so far." I said.

The councilors exchanged glances again, and again that quick, silent conversation. Whatever they were discussing, Sparatus nodded contentedly and reported:

"Your requests to the Special Corps have been approved. Take whatever you need. Inspection and repair of the ship has already begun."

"Thank you, Counselor."

For this we were graciously released. And just as we were leaving, an ironic message flew at my back:

"I hope Venari won't send me an entertaining read tomorrow with a dynamic video sequence about the entertainment of two Board Members and a former C-SEC employee in Nizhny gorod."

The vibrant voice of the Turian advisor oozed with veiled malice and amusement, though without a trace of displeasure. I blushed a little, Nihlus lost his step, and Garrus, who had already seeped into the hallway, choked on air. Sparatus watched our pantomime with a kind of fatherly affection! He seemed amused by our spree. So let it make you laugh, but we will... Let's go for a walk again. Today. The main thing tomorrow is to escape from the Citadel on time.

"I hope he won't, Counselor Sparatus."

In response, a soft rasping laugh and a supportive:

"Are free."

We were swept away at the speed of light, literally a minute later we were on the street, and we breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently, I'm not the only one who feels like I'm in an enclosure with feline predators. In a bowl for grub! Nevertheless, advisers are something! As long as I've lived, such politicians still send shivers through my body... I don't want to be a great schemer. Not mine! Shrugging my shoulders, I looked at the Turians in turn and asked a sacramental question:

"And where to next?"

Instead of answering, they grabbed me by the elbows and dragged me to the taxi stand....

"Do you think we did the right thing?" Tevos asked softly, watching the retreating figures.

"Do you still have doubts?" The Turian walked over to the window and rested his palm on the narrow sill.

"She's not telling the whole truth."

"She doesn't trust us. This is natural." Sparatus shrugged his powerful shoulders. "I'm actually surprised that they decided to talk about her gift. Even so... generally speaking."

"Are they covering for her?" Surprise flashed in the Asari's deep voice.

"Yes. I told you that." The Turian couldn't help but smile as he watched the short conversation end with a determined tow of a fragile girlish figure to a taxi. "She managed to win their loyalty."

"They share a secret. For three people. It shows." Tevos agreed, watching the emotional exchange with interest. "Do they know about the substitution?"

"Nihlus knows. He couldn't help but notice the change in behavior. His reviews and characterization of Commander Shepard were far from enthusiastic. He strongly did NOT recommend the Commander as a candidate for the Spectr. After Eden Prime, opinion changed dramatically."

"The impact?" The Asari raised an eyebrow questioningly.

"No. This is a personal sympathy. I believe Garrus Vakarian joined her squad for the same reason."

"He is young, idealistic and impulsive."

"But not a fool." the Turian objected. "Kirrus taught his son well. Venari spoke well of him, although he complained about his intemperance, excessive adventurism and disregard for subordination."

"I can't object. The younger Vakarian is interesting."

"It's worth taking a closer look at it." Sparatus agreed.

"Is that the only reason you decided to change Irene Shepard's status from Novick to full Spectr? Is it too fast? She didn't get any training. She doesn't know anything."

The altercation at the taxi ended: Nihlus intercepted the girl by the waist and shoved her into the aircar to the laughter of the younger Vakarian, ignoring the sluggish attempts of resistance. Having screwed up, the former most unpredictable and idealistic C-SEC officer jumped into the cab, and the taxi quickly gained altitude and disappeared into the traffic flow.

"She has someone to explain it to and keep her from making mistakes." Sparatus chuckled. "As far as I know, Irene's Spectr listens to the opinions of those whom she calls friends."

"In a couple of hours, she managed to assemble a very interesting team." Tevos tilted her head to the side. "Turian, Quarian, Krogan. Sometimes it seems to me that the concept of "racial hostility" is simply unknown to her."

"The advisor inclined his head in agreement."

"The current Irene Shepard meets the requirements for a Special Corpus operative. And I'm not interested in which gods or spirits had a hand in her transformation, as long as she's doing everything in her power to save our civilization. You said yourself, the threat of the Reapers is not a fiction."

Tevos shuddered.

"There is no lie in her words. Evasiveness, avoiding direct answers - yes. But never a direct lie." azari moved away from the window and returned to the sofa. "So far, her words have been confirmed. You're right. She deserves your trust. We need to show her that we can be trusted, too. Support at the right moment. I suppose the Alliance will provide the opportunity."

Sparatus nodded.

"They'll never let her out of control, but they don't realize that she's ALREADY turned her back on them. I've read her file. I guess we've already seen all of her current friends. And there are only two people among them - a brilliant disabled pilot and a ship's doctor."

"What about Captain Anderson?"

"There may be gratitude, but there is no trace of the old blind worship. That old Commander Shepard would not even allow the thought of going against the word of command and trying to save her enemy. Especially someone like Saren Arterius." Sparatus fell silent. "I am grateful to her for saving Nihlus's life."

"She had her reasons." Tevos said.

"Were. I can even guess which ones." Sparatus chuckled. "I am ready to forgive a lot and I will close my eyes to a lot if they succeed in their plans." a short pause. "If she succeeds in EVERYTHING she has planned... I will petition the Hierarch to grant her full citizenship and will provide any assistance I can without asking unnecessary questions."

"You trust her." There was a hint of reproach in the deep head.

"Yes." The Turian counselor sat down on the edge of the couch. "She will be able to take root in our world."

"Do you know something?"

"Rather, I saw something that wasn't meant for me." The man chuckled softly.

"Will you show me?"

"Undoubtedly." The vibrant low voice turned into a purr. "I'll puzzle you in revenge for those colorful nightmares."

"Thank your prot"g" for them." The soft, throaty laughter of the Asari. "I couldn't sleep properly for a decade!"

"I know. She woke up screaming every night. But it was a strong move on her part, you must admit."

"Right. The main thing is that the information is really from the lighthouse. I guess they showed me... especially impressive moments." Tevos shook her head. "Oh, yeah... You haven't looked at everything yet. I haven't seen the most interesting part..."

"You have the opportunity to show." Sparatus purred.

The azure eyes were rapidly filling with darkness. Slender fingers wrapped around the head of the bent Turian, two pairs of eyes met.

"Embrace eternity..."

Chapter 25: The Last Quiet Hours

Illustration:

https://disk.yandex.ru/d/Tpt1dGDwwJevUw

The Presidium Park is a wonderful place. Elegant light buildings surrounded by lush greenery, artificial lakes, waterfalls and fountains, brightly dressed intelligent people leisurely strolling along the embankment or standing on bridges. The picture was spoiled by the repeater of the Channel, but... not so much anymore. He was just a little annoying, without provoking a dull anger. Apparently, I'm starting to get used to the Citadel. The station is really beautiful... even without looking at who created it and for what purposes.

The guys chose a small cafe on the lake embankment. A powerful tree shaded us from the illusory sun, and an ornamental shrub blooming with large scarlet flowers beautifully framed the terrace and hid it from prying eyes. Lazily doing nothing in good company for an equally lazy conversation about nothing, delicious exotic drinks, polite and tactful waiters, looking fearfully at our armed company and the Krayz lying open on the table, fully ready for battle. Garrus was enthusiastically picking at the Turian equivalent of the super-heavy Black Widow sniper rifle, adjusting and adjusting something to his hand. The Salarian receptionist in a funny chocolate-green suit turned pale and green every time Garrus raised his weapon and peered into the scope, and he sagged with relief when the grumbling guy returned the weapon to the table. The sensible people at the neighboring tables watched our trio with a degree of curiosity, but without apprehension, and the two C-Sec standing nearby listened with interest to Garrus's grumbling and clearly knew him. A couple of elderly Turians, sitting at a table slightly to our left, watched our sniper's performance patronizingly and with emotion, not too quietly reminiscing about the turbulent past and discussing the rare and very specific weapons spread out on our table.

We wrested the Krayza from the quartermaster of the SPECTR and then, after a call to Sparatus. I didn't want to give it away like that. You saw, you bastard, that Garrus, who had never seen a Spectr, had his eye on the rifle. He gave me my Krayza, but then he balked. Theoretically, I can understand the old greedy guy. The Krayza is not just a powerful rifle, but an extremely powerful one. These weapons destroy heavily armored infantry. In one shot. Yes, it has a low rate of fire, there are three rounds in the magazine, it overheats quickly, cools down for a long time, and consumes thermoclips like Rex provisions, but the power is simply monstrous. What's so strange about Garrus immediately taking a fancy to her?

Naturally, we noticed this, as did the quartermaster. And it's just as natural that we immediately asked for this very "Krayza", and the Salarian stuck both horns in. There were only six such rifles in the arsenal. The problem was solved by Nihlus.

You should have seen the Salarian's face when the infuriated Turian, remembering the promise of a relative, dialed an adviser and venomously informed us that they refused to give us the necessary weapons in the arsenal of the Special Corps. Judging by Sparatus' evil face, we had interrupted him from something pleasant, because my translator could not translate the matyugs that the frightened quartermaster heard, although the disturbed associations aroused respect. After swearing at the redneck quartermaster, Sparatus ordered to give him what was required, and promised that if he got at least one more such complaint, he would personally break his second horn, after which he passed out, measuring our company with a promising look. Feels the heart... We will remember it!

The vindictive Nihlus went through the arsenal like a gloating whirlwind once more and stole a bunch of completely unnecessary junk and in general ALL the "Kraza's" that he found, bringing the quartermaster to a nervous tic. We're definitely not the first people to have this incarnation of Her Highness the Toad try to hold a weapon, and we're certainly not the last to take it out on him in the same way. The understanding and happy faces of the two Spectrum Turians, watching the mayhem we were creating, shone with sincere and undisguised gloating, while our Salarian colleague looked at his kinsman without a shadow of sympathy and with great satisfaction.

Garrus, finally satisfied with the result, stroked the forearm with his clawed fingers and said thoughtfully:

"I should have shot him."

The cafe's administrator flashed with undisguised horror, and Nihlus, sensing this, laughed.

"Vakarian and big long-range guns! You're incorrigible!"

Garrus snorted.

"You don't understand anything, Krayk. This charm pierces shields along with their owner with a single shot!"

"One shot, one dead body?" I asked, smiling at the soulful face.

"That's right!" the sniper purred, put the weapon in the box and... unpacked the next one.

"Have fun." Nihlus complacently pointed to four more weapon boxes with exactly the same markings.

"Nihlus, why do you need a Krayza if you don't use sniper rifles?"

He shrugged his shoulders and said blissfully:

"I don't need it. This is for you, in case you ruin yours again. When else will it be possible to plunder SPECTR's special arsenal so successfully? The old greedy man won't have enough nerves to be afraid a second time.

"I'm not a Spectr," Garrus said reasonably, gazing intently at Nihlus, who was completely satisfied with his life.

"So what?"

""Krayza" is a rare special weapon. And expensive." Garrus ran his fingers gently over the rifle without noticing it. "Will there be any problems?"

"Because of the six rifles?" Nihlus asked skeptically. "no. If we could just take out the WHOLE arsenal, then yes... Sparatus, then... I'd scold you for being too greedy. The maximum. Or he would have ordered us to return what we don't need."

"That's it?"

"That's all. Or he could have just sent the quartermaster to the warehouse to argue with a colleague. He's a greedy bastard. Because of this feature, ALL Spectr's are gaining weapons with a large reserve."

I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Personal experience?"

"Oh, yes!"

"Was it my imagination, or is this not the first time Sparatus has heard such complaints?"

"Yes, all the time. The old greedy guy got the whole Special Corps, and only a direct order from the adviser can affect him. Sparatus has long been plagued with complaints about the quartermaster of the Citadel's special arsenal. There are only two people to whom he gives everything without a single squeak. Tagrus and..." Nihlus clenched the glass in his fist with such force that it cracked plaintively, "Saren."

I gently put my hand on his forearm.

"We'll get him back."

The long fingers loosened powerlessly. The glass slipped out of his hand and fell onto the table with a thud, swayed, but resisted.

"But in what form?"

"Terrifying, you know that. The Lord holds him too tightly by the throat. But it only depends on us whether he will live or not... He'll die."

"Not from us." he whispered bitterly, clenching his hand into a fist. "From you. There's nothing I can do to help him."

"But you can help me." I met the gaze of green eyes.

He nodded slowly. The tension melted away, and Nihlus relaxed again, thoughtfully swinging the glass between his fingers. Garrus was tactfully silent, quickly adjusting the rifle, but without the same pleasure that he had before. The topic of Saren has recently become particularly acute and painful. The closer the flight to Vermeer got, the more Nihlus wound itself up. Especially seeing the example of submission in the person of the matriarch. He believed in his mentor and friend, but... He was really aware of the situation and understood Saren's chances of resisting the Overlord. Zero points.

The incoming signal on the instrumentron started beeping. I unfolded the golden interface. Pressley.

"What happened?" I asked without further ado.

"They came from the Special Corps." the XO replied laconically. "For the cargo. They require your presence."

"We'll be right there."

The XO's face was gone. There was no need to explain anything. Garrus quickly packed the rifle into a box, we disassembled the crates, and fifteen minutes later we fell out of the elevator at berth 7-9834-38.

We were met at the Normandy by Pressley and five unknown Spectr's: an Asari, three Turians, and a Salarian. The leader of the group was Azari. One look at his arrogant face was enough for me: We won'T get along. I will not forget the disdain and contempt in the eyes of the blue beauty.

Pressley greeted us with relief, while his colleagues greeted us with skepticism. Especially me. They ignored Nihlus. No one paid any attention to Garrus at all, glancing at him as if he were an empty place. They're... wrong.

For some time now, Garrus Vakarian has been one of the VERY few intelligent people in my inner circle. The second one and... at the moment, the last one. The first was Nihlus Krayk. The inner circle is closer than the relatives. They are the ones for whom I am ready not only to bend reality over my knee, but also to twist it so that they live. They're intelligent, and I trust them implicitly. I will not hesitate to give my life for them. They are the ones I will remember for the rest of my life. And I will destroy anyone who dares to lay a hand on them. And this lady just expressively and with gusto spat in our face.

I caught Nihlus intense gaze.

"Do you have any disagreements?"

"She hates Saren. And me."

"I see. And why did Sparatus send her?"

"Good question."

"In that case, doing something nasty is sacred. Then let Saren deal with her on his own."

From Nihlus came a flash of dull pain and a barely perceptible hope.

"We'll get it back, even if I have to put it back together. I have something... leftovers from past lives. As a last resort."

Nihlus closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, and calmed down.

Well,... It's time to chat with colleagues! In the meantime... We ignored this sculptural group, walked past them along the open ramp, fell into the arsenal and began to slowly lay out the loot. Of course, the main order will be delivered later in the evening, it was us who went to the arsenals for the sake of a sniper rifle, but still. If our colleagues thought that we would crucify ourselves in front of them with heavy weapon boxes in our hands, they were mistaken.

Finally, having beautifully arranged the crates of "Krayzs" under Rex's happy and understanding gaze, we deigned to shift our attention to the Spectra who were fucked up by such a reception.

"The spectr of Irene Shepard?" Asari asked, raising a hairless eyebrow slightly.

"With whom I have... The pleasure of talking?" I asked dryly, glancing at her.

Spectr of Uriya D"Lori. You have to give us the cargo.

I chuckled.

"No problem! I hope you thought to bring a cargo aircar with you?" I asked innocently and saw confusion and annoyance flash in Asari's eyes. "No? Well, it can't be helped... You will have to carry this box in your own hands."

And I pointed with undisguised pleasure at the hefty container that our biotics were carrying out, blazing with a bright blue glow. There was gloating and satisfaction behind his back. Garrus, my sweet, you're a sharpshooter, and it turns out you're not without your share of vindictiveness. Just like Nihlus. He generally got a lot of pleasure from my communication with a colleague.

"Councilor Sparatus has ordered you to escort the cargo."

No problem. I smiled broadly, clearly indicating that I was ready to follow the load, but I wouldn't lift a finger to make it move.

I must have had a wonderfully expressive face, because Uriah, with a stony face, sent one of the fighters from her group after the aircar. I know for sure that at first she wanted to chase Garrus away, but... she didn't dare. That's great. I'm just as vindictive as any immortal. The car arrived quickly, and I had a lot of fun watching the Spectr manually load the box with the queen. Rex stood and enjoyed the process with Nihlus and Garrus. And the faces of all three of them are absolutely equally inspired! Uriya saw this outright happiness, she was furious, but she was silent, holding the main weight with biotics. There's like half a ton in the queen. Except for the box itself.

I honestly waited until we with matyug's pushed the box into the cargo hold of the aircar, and happily said:

"The spectr of Uriah!"

The Asari looked at me suspiciously.

"I have ten Asari marines from Matriarch Benezia's escort on board as passengers. Could you take them with you?"

Uriya thought for two minutes, until the full meaning and cynicism of what was said reached her, slowly closed her eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled just as slowly.

"I can."

A happy grin spread across his face.

"The Joker! Do you hear that?"

"Of course, Captain! The ladies are already getting ready."

The ladies in question rolled out of the hold just a couple of minutes later, lined up on my left hand. Benezia explained VERY clearly and without room for imagination to the girls who has the right to give them orders until her recovery.

Uriah stood there and stared at me intently. Uriah stood there and stared at me intently. I smiled into her eyes and rolled from heel to toe, trying to show how deeply I didn't care. Nihlus was genuinely getting kayf and pretending to be my shadow. Garrus was grinning obscenely and doing the same. We weren't in a hurry, everything was fine with us, and we waited in silence for the Spectr to chew through the situation and come up with a solution. The marines, on the other hand, stared at the painfully familiar box and whispered softly, completely ignoring the five sentients.

Uriah gave up when she saw Nihlus, leering at me, pointedly tilt his head to my ear and, in a delightful vibrating whisper that could be heard almost all over Normandy, start baiting stories from the series "Entertaining Facts from the Life of Spectr's." Garrus listened with pleasure, completely ignoring the slow-growing Asari. Irene swears that in a little while, and we would have just turned our backs on her and started talking out loud.

"Get on board! The council is waiting for us." Uriah literally growled, abruptly turned around and left for the aircar.

Neither I nor the Turians tried to find out exactly where we were going. We comfortably settled down right on the floor next to the box with the queen, and Nihlus continued to tell funny stories, not forgetting to walk over his "beloved" colleague. Uria was slowly seething at the sight of our colorful company, but she didn't try to shut up her colleague, and he naturally enjoyed the feeling of her emotions. I carefully put a hard marker on her, killing at the root the idea of taking revenge on us through the most vulnerable member of our squad. Garrus. He is not a Spectr. Uriah will get nothing for killing him... officially. As soon as the thought of harming or killing reaches the stage of a decision about execution... Dear Azari will go to her grave with a massive brain hemorrhage.

For a mentalist, a conscious decision is equivalent to an action. Just like any magician. I prefer to protect rather than take revenge... destroying the enemy before he harms. Then you won't have to take revenge.

The aircar took us to a rather spacious room and landed against the wall. The full Council and two dozen fighters were already waiting for us there. We didn't show off, and on my command, the paratroopers easily pulled out the box with the queen and placed it in the center. Uriah just said nothing, glaring at my back.

As we approached the Council, all three of us bowed our heads.

"The Rachni Queen has been delivered by your order." Nihlus reported calmly.

Uriah choked on air and coughed, staring in deep shock at the worn and partially holed box. Well, you can't keep Varren like that, you're right. How is she? Fine. Why didn't she break out? Because I'm smarter than you... I was happy to answer Uriah's questions and thoughts to myself, getting some kind of sadistic satisfaction.

Sparatus took over the conversation as a representative of the interested party. They have already discussed, divided, and agreed upon everything among themselves and with the rulers of their races. The hierarchy agreed to accept rahni. Or rather, get your hands on them.

"What is her condition?"

"In a mild form of stasis." I replied.

"Can you take her out?"

"yes."

"Get started."

On my command, the paratroopers removed the locks from the doors and opened them wide, showing the soundly sleeping lilac-purple queen to others. I just reached out to Rahni's mind, sending out a pre-arranged signal. A couple of long minutes of waiting, and the queen stirred. A huge insect slowly, still clumsily after a long sleep, crawled out of the box, appearing in all its power and glory.

"We need a medium. The Queen is unable to speak aloud on her own." The people thought about it. The paratroopers standing behind me whispered softly about something, and a pretty girl stepped forward. The one through whom the Queen had already spoken once.

"I'm ready."

The Asari approached the queen and turned her back to her, and I put the girl to sleep with a light touch to her mind. The Queen didn't need to explain anything. The Asari did not even have time to settle to the floor, as the body convulsively jerked and slowly got to its feet.

"We remember you, singing. We see the enemy's music. Is he close?"

"He's still far away." I calmed the nervous Rachni. "This place holds their echoes."

Rahni stirred. I pointed to Sparatus, who was looking at Rachni with interest, and said:

"Queen. Here are those who are ready to hear your song. Counselor, speak up. The Queen will hear and understand you."

Sparatus came close. Very close, gazing intently at the huge creature sitting obediently on the metal floor and waiting for his words. The Queen didn't even move. She waited patiently. Rahni longs to live. She's afraid of getting killed. But... even this insect understands that alone it will not be able to find a suitable world and protect its offspring.

"We are ready to give you a world to colonize." Sparatus spoke slowly and clearly. "Are you ready to obey us? Become a part of our people? Live next to us. Fight with us? Stand side by side against our enemy?"

"We are ready to merge our music with the song of your people. We want to raise our children in harmony. We are ready to stand with you against those who want to plunge us into silence." a short pause. "We are weak now. We're alone now."

"We don't require immediate help."

"We agree. We will become a part of the music of your people."

Sparatus nodded slowly and sooo contentedly.

"Free your voice. There is a container against the wall in which you will be transported to your chosen world. You will be able to develop. We will watch and protect. We will not interfere."

"We will remember you."

"Can you wait out the long flight?"

"We're going to sleep."

"How do we wake you up?"

"We will feel the music of the living world."

Sparatus slowly bowed his head and walked away. The Asari sank to the floor without a sound, and the queen, mincing slightly, proceeded to a huge airtight box with a built-in life support system, where she sat down again and went into hibernation right in front of the stunned people.

That's it, trusting insect, you've fallen into kind and caring clawed hands. I don't doubt for a moment that practical Turians can accommodate this... an unusual replenishment for the benefit of the native Hierarchy with the greatest possible benefit. I do not know what the use of Asari is in this. Most likely, the Salarians simply did not dare to contact the Rachni, and they could not push through their destruction: the Turians and Asari did not allow it. My suspicions about the Hierarchy and the Republic are gnawing at me. Somehow they coordinate their actions very well. A union? Who knows. In the Council, Tevos and Sparatus are clearly playing on the same team, and Valern will have no choice but to agree. The beauties! You can't say anything.

While the Council soldiers were closing the container and taking it somewhere, I brought the marine to consciousness and handed over the dozen into the hands of Tevos, under her promise to arrange an Asari on the Citadel while I put the matriarch in order. That was the end of my promise to look after the young ladies, and I calmly left for Nihlus and Garrus under the watchful and somewhat thoughtful gaze of Sparatus. Tevos just twitched the corner of her lips and nodded slightly, as if the councilors had just confirmed some opinion and made a decision. If I hadn't been watching them so closely, I wouldn't have noticed. Interestingly, the attention was on Garrus!

The people gradually dispersed. The feisty Uriah left with Tevos and Valern, and Sparatus called us after him. The adviser was definitely pleased and did not hide it at all. And from whom? Only the four of us remained in the huge hall. It will be necessary, by the way, to somehow hint to him that a reasonable person of his status should not go unguarded. I hadn't forgotten about Lang and his future attack on the Council. However, a Turian can be called anything but defenseless. Unlike Canon, the adviser did not disdain personal armor and weapons at all, and now, outside the Council Chamber, he was wearing excellent medium armor hidden under a loose tunic cloak, a powerful pistol was visible in the grips, and a Turian blade was in the hip scabbard. I guess he hasn't given up on training either. His movements were too characteristic: the flexibility and plasticity of a wild beast, economy and noiselessness... No matter what position he holds, first of all he is a warrior. And only then - the politician.

"We will take Rahni under our protection." The councilor's calm, vibrant voice echoed loudly in the deserted room. "They will enter the Hierarchy as a vassal race."

"The Rachni themselves are not aggressive." I shrugged my shoulders. "but the fighters are good. Due to the specifics of their species, losses among ordinary fighters are not critical: they are not reasonable. And they cannot be subdued if the queens remain sane."

"The Asari said about the same thing." Sparatus grinned, looking at us with some kind of anticipatory interest. It's like I've seen it for the first time, my word! "Perhaps one of your friends will be interested... The hierarchy has initiated hearings on the cancellation of the genophage's sanction."

It was as if I had crashed into the air. Behind him, the Turians flashed with undisguised amazement. WHAT did they do?

"Are you going to cure the gene pool?"

"We applied it. We will heal him." Sparatus grimaced, twitching his mandibles in displeasure. "If we don't stop now, the Krogan will disappear as a species. It's not something to be proud of." sharp gaze of gray-green eyes. "We gave Rachni a chance at life. The Krogan are no worse. If you come across any information about the medicine, take it out."

"It will be done."

The counselor, with contented eyes and a stony face, contemplated our fucked-up faces. That's right... he had calculated everything correctly. He couldn't help but know that Rex was on our team. I doubt that such a solution has arisen recently. Surely the Hierarchy has been preparing for a long time. For what purposes? I have no idea. But obviously not out of love for his neighbor Krogan. There's a clear calculation here. Have you decided to subjugate the "turtles"? It looks like it! With such a significant parting word, Sparatus took off, leaving us to digest the news.

Waking up from their stupor, Nihlus and Garrus decided that it was better to digest such news somewhere in a more comfortable place and, preferably, pouring alcohol.

Sparatus is a snide bastard! He knows how to puzzle and unsettle!

After wandering around the technical district for about fifteen minutes, we found a taxi terminal, and an hour later we were disembarking in a dubious quarter of the Lower City. Hello, Cora's Lair! We haven't seen each other for a long time!

The bar has long found a new owner, but at first glance nothing has changed.: the same interior, the same faces, still writhing in the sensual dance of the Asari, there were also guards at the current owner's chambers, though this time from Turians and one person, two Krogan at the doors to the service compartments. There's a familiar bartender behind the bar, pouring drinks and... oh... who do I see!

"Garrus." my affectionate, full of anticipation voice caused quite a natural wave of apprehension.

"What?"

"Give me a grenade. I know you have it in your pocket."

Nihlus gasped, looking at my face in surprise, and Garrus, following my gaze, grinned knowingly and gave out the required information without question. Grabbing the thin disk, I threaded my way into the crowd without making a sound, moving towards my victim.

"Why would she need an assault grenade?"

Nihlus' quiet, wary voice was barely audible. There was a muffled chuckle in response.

"Look."

Loud rhythmic music beat on sensitive ears, the hubbub of the crowd, screams, shuffling footsteps of drunken sane, languid screams of dancers who were pinched in the ass once again, the clatter of glasses - the usual noise of the "Lair", it did not stop for a moment. Dreariness, longing, boredom... An abomination... The Krogan grimaced in displeasure, picked up the glass of disgusting booze and brought it to his mouth when...

Thin, delicate fingers gently touched his chin, slid along his neck in a very familiar caress, which sent a wave of cold down his spine. He didn't even feel the weight of the fragile girl hugging his neck under the fucking stares of the guards and the bartender. The Krogan froze.

A languid female voice whispered intimately and tenderly:

"Did you miss me, handsome?"

The glass cracked in his strong fingers and shattered into pieces. The booze flowed down the hands and table, washing away the sparkling glass...

"You're so ridiculously careless..." And the deadly icy disk of the grenade, squeaking, slid down the collar...

"Ten, pretty boy..." a painfully familiar voice cooed softly.

I never thought that you could take off your cuirass in five seconds! Especially the Krogan! But no, he did it... That's what experience and the right incentive do! The grenade fell to the floor, the blue lights of the combat platoon winking merrily. The Krogan picked it up, turned it off, stared at the number frozen on the screen, and slowly turned around, staring intently into my eyes.

"Ten MINUTES?!"

Ugh... So many emotions! Belated fear, shock, anger, rising rage, relief, misunderstanding, and... hmm... Admiration?

"I didn't specify."

The Krogan clenched his fists and scowled... And suddenly he burst out laughing. Nihlus and Garrus came up to me from behind, grinning broadly.

"Rin, you're incorrigible!" The Turian's vibrant voice, choked with laughter, elicited only a knowing grin and a wave of recognition from the Krogan.

Who would doubt that our nimble sniper would be recognized!

"Vakarian!"

"Greste."

"They say you quit." The Krogan calmed down, donned his cuirass, and slid the deactivated grenade into the hip pouch.

Garrus shrugged and leaned comfortably against the high counter.

"I'm tired of it."

"What about your fight against evil and your ideals of higher justice?" The Krogan asked sarcastically, sweeping the glass shards off the counter and onto the floor in one motion.

"And who said that I cheated on myself?" Garrus asked sarcastically, pulling up a high chair, motioning for me to sit on it.

I did not refuse the invitation, and settled down comfortably. Garrus played the role of the back perfectly, and Nihlus came closer and leaned back against the counter between me and the Krogan. Greste fully appreciated the maneuvers. He squinted, gazing intently into the impassive face of the openly amused Nihlus, and then, recognizing it, blinked in surprise.

"You have an interesting company. Would you introduce me?"

"I guess you've found out Nihlus."

The Krogan nodded.

"The spectr of the Council. Nihlus Krayk. Yes, I know. A well-known personality. They said you were dead." Nihlus twitched his mandibles and ironically agreed:

"I died."

But there was no trace of irony in the emotions. Just like in green eyes. Greste noticed, shook his heavy head in surprise, but did not continue the painful topic.

"Imagine your beautiful companion. This is the third time we've met, I've heard so many nice things about myself, it's breathtaking, and I don't even know from whom." Garrus grinned and put his hand on my shoulder.

"Irene Shepard."

I smiled. The guy turned out to be not vindictive and with humor.

"Was it really breathtaking?"

The Krogan smiled broadly, which looked good to an unprepared viewer... It's threatening.

"I've never been so impressed by anyone of your kind."

"Aren't you mad?"

In response, a booming, cheerful laugh.

"You can die of boredom in this hole. The local scumbags are brave only in the crowd, and when you meet one or two, they piss in their pants as soon as you growl at them." The Krogan snorted contemptuously.

"Oh, how! Don't you have enough adrenaline? Or whatever his role is."

Greste chuckled.

"You're the same as Vakarian. Without brakes." He looked at the laughing Turian. "Don't grin, you chitinous mug. How you disappeared, it got really boring. There is no such nerve-tickling feeling when you are waiting for a sudden shot from the most accurate scumbag C-SEC. Your colleagues are crooked-armed and cross-eyed, like blind Warren."

"You're exaggerating." The sniper snorted.

"Ha! Only you could put a bullet in the head as soon as it flashed. Offhand with a pistol. Pallin shouldn't have let you go. And you - walk carefully. There are a lot of people who have a knife hidden on you."

Garrus shrugged nonchalantly.

"And now he doesn't go alone." I grinned at him.

The Krogan laughed.

"I see it. I found myself a clan in spirit."

Garrus looked embarrassed, and all three of us laughed. The straightforward Greste said what he thought. It is not typical for Krogan to weave a lace of words and lies. They are straightforward and honest. So he said what he saw. Small, tightly knit... the clan. I thought about this idea, and it didn't cause rejection. None of us.

"Oh, I see this is news only for Vakarian." Tactful, like all Krogan. Garrus blinked in surprise at our gracious faces, then tilted his head to the side, thought for a moment, and simply nodded.

"The C-SEC doesn't protect you anymore, don't forget." Greste added. "And you've made a lot of enemies."

"We all have a lot of enemies." Nihlus replied diplomatically.

"But you're a Spectr! Few fools touch the operas of the Special Corps. Then you'll have problems and you won't live long."

"Nihlus is not the only Spectre in our small but extremely vindictive clan." I purred. "Garrus is the kind one."

The Turian gasped for air.

"Am I? Kind?"

Nihlus laughed. I smiled.

"You are Goodness itself in the flesh!"

The Krogan chuckled.

"Then who is Evil itself?"

"But we still have to go after our personal Evil." I smiled. Nihlus froze, his fingers convulsively gripping the edge of the counter. "He takes lessons from his universal incarnation. It improves your qualifications... And got carried away. Who doesn't? He has a gambling and adventurous nature, he has completely forgotten about himself, he does not take care of himself, he breaks his health..." I sighed. "So we'll have to fly over and bring him back to a close-knit family. And the same will be learned and will be lost for nothing... in isolation from reality.

The Krogan's eyes, round with amazement, are an amazing sight. The most interesting thing is that he still did not understand who he was talking about. But I was impressed. In advance.

"That's how it is..." a short shake of the heavy head. "Good luck in... bringing back your Evil."

Nihlus closed his eyes and nodded.

"I heard you've crossed paths with Rex Urdnot."

"There is such a thing." I smiled.

"No one has seen him for a long time." Krogan said suggestively.

"Well... I don't know, I don't know... When I saw him, he was happily rummaging through the arsenal."

Greste bowed his head in surprise.

"In what arsenal?"

"In the ship building."

"What ship?"

"On mine."

The Krogan blinked in surprise.

"What's Rex doing on your ship?" I glanced at the omny-tool screen.

"Judging by the time, he should now be eagerly gutting a package from the arsenals of the Special Corps. They were supposed to deliver it. What's your interest?"

"Urdnot Greste." The Krogan introduced himself with a grin.

Wow!

"Oh, how! Are you wondering where your leader is?"

"Do you know already?"

"Sure." I shrugged my shoulders. "As soon as he gets tired of hanging around with us and collecting all the problems of the galaxy on his ass, we will kindly throw him on the Tuchanka."

"He will never get tired of collecting all the problems of the galaxy."

Greste replied reasonably, knowing his leader very well.

We laughed.

"Okay, we'll get out of here. It's not very good to drink in a bar whose previous owner you shot."

Greste chuckled.

"So it was you?"

"I promised." I spread my hands. "Come on, handsome!"

On this cheerful note, we said goodbye and crawled to the exit. Almost at the door, I was acutely aware of someone else's heavy interest. Tripping slightly, I hung onto Garrus's arm and turned, falling slightly on my foot, quickly isolating the source from the crowd. A tall, powerful Turian in C-SEC armor. And the face is familiar... and tattoos like Garrus's...

Understanding came instantly. Holy shit! Vakarian is the elder...

The door closed, cutting us off from the bar.

"Rin, what happened?" I was carefully set on my feet.

"Garrus... Either I imagined it, or I saw your father." The guy shuddered. "And he followed us purposefully."

A moment of stupor and an uncertain answer:

"Rin... I'm not ready to talk to my dad right now..."

Nihlus blinked in surprise. We've never seen Garrus so lost and confused! It's true that things aren't going well with his dad.

"In that case, we'd better hurry."

When Kirrus Vakarian left the bar, there was no one in the dimly lit hallway. Sighing heavily, the man shook his head and wearily ran his hand over the comb. The son disappeared again in an unknown direction.

But this time he had a clue. Those two. He recognized the Turian. Nihlus Krayk. The spectr of the Council. Student of Saren Arterius. And an unknown human woman.

"What have you gotten yourself into, son..." The low voice faded into the silence.

Chapter 26: A Kind Parting Kick in the Ass

After a hasty escape from the Kora's Lair, we stumbled into a small club on another petal of the Citadel. None of us knew what kind of place it was. Which was good, no one knew us or bothered us either. We looked, however, warily and cautiously, until we realized what was going on: openly carried weapons of far from civilian modifications and a short Turian sword on Nihlus' hip. But at least they didn't touch it, having sensibly reasoned that there are a lot of C-SEC posts on the Citadel, and since we haven't been swept up yet, it means that we have the right to carry these weapons. And then we completely forgot when we realized that we would not be violent.

The near-encounter with his father had thrown Garrus off balance. The guy was sitting depressed and upset, thoughtlessly staring into his glass. Nihlus was tactfully silent, but I... at first I didn't pry into his soul. I thought he'd leave on his own. But no... Garrus was slowly and surely slipping into melancholy, winding himself up for some reason.

"Garrus." I shook his shoulder, bringing him back to the real world.

He blinked in surprise, staring at me blankly with bright light blue eyes. Now, in civilian clothes, without armor and weapons, he really was perceived as an ordinary hooligan guy with a lot of problems that he masterfully hid from others behind his equanimity, slight sarcasm and harmless banter. Only now his inner armor has visibly cracked, exposing the soul of a deeply lonely intelligent man with a lot of problems and complexes. He still hasn't gotten used to the idea that he's not alone anymore. That there are those who will support him under any circumstances and no matter what.

"Something happened?" a cautious question, said in a completely unhappy voice.

"You tell me why you're not yourself."

"Ah..." he waved it away. "It's okay."

I grabbed his hand.

"This is NOT normal!"

Garrus blinked, looking into my eyes in confusion. He turned his gaze to Nihlus, but when he met a hard gaze, he drooped.

"You know we'll support you in any case." calmly pressed Nihlus. "Do you trust us with your life in battle, but not with your problems?"

"This..."

"The same thing! Trust is trust!"

Garrus looked at his brush, which I held in my hands, confused, not knowing what to do. That's how he could, having served in the C-SEC investigation department for who knows how many years, maintain such shyness and self-doubt? He just amazes me sometimes! I do not dispute that the versatility of personality is great, but you need to know the measure! Garrus on the battlefield and Garrus sitting next to me right now are two completely different personalities.

For a while, he fell out of reality again, thinking about our words and.. gathering my thoughts. We didn't say anything. Nihlus just kept quiet, and I held Garrus' hand. Finally, he was ready to talk.

"You know about... the peculiarities of our society, Rin?" dully, he began the conversation with a question.

"I know."

A short nod, and then in the same hollow voice:

"I'm the youngest in the family. I never have been... enough... disciplined. Because of this, I had problems not only with my father, but also with my immediate superiors. In training, in C-SEC. Such neglect is not welcome among our people. They don't understand him. I'm a bad Turian."

Is Garrus the bad guy? From which side? I've never seen a more loyal and honest reasonable person in my life! And his adventurism, prudent riskiness, gambling, courage on the verge of losing the instinct of self-preservation, and a thirst for adventure, coupled with shyness in some ways, only add to the charm.

Nihlus, who had a lot more fun with subordination and discipline than Garrus, just snorted. I grimaced.

"And you're generally silent, the joy of discipline, ignoring orders!"

Garrus blinked in surprise at the grinning kinsman.

"Yes, yes, our Nihlus has problems with discipline... he also often ignored the orders of his immediate superiors if he thought they were... not quite right."

"It was like that." Nihlus graciously agreed. "And then I caught Saren's eye, and he nominated me as a candidate for the SPECTR."

Garrus flinched.

"Me too... They pushed it. But my father resisted. He believed that I would eventually consider myself superior to others. Above the law." There was a hint of irony in his voice. "He often cited your mentor, Saren, as an example of the Spectr and its methods. Not too legitimate... or even illegal ones."

"Are you going to be above the law?" Nihlus looked skeptically at the embarrassed Garrus. "With your desire for justice? Your father doesn't know you at all, if that's what he thinks. The whole shadow Citadel knows that, but your father doesn't."

Garrus shrugged his shoulders.

"We often quarreled on this ground. For the last time, we... They said a lot... too much." Garrus rubbed his free hand over his face, looking at us in frustration. "Things that shouldn't have been said."

"How long ago was that?" I asked cautiously.

Garrus flinched all over, but confessed in a hollow, cracked voice.

"Three years ago."

Holy shit! Three years! He avoided his father for three years, working with him in the same structure! Now it is clear where such fear and insecurity come from, generously seasoned with pain and guilt. He'll eat himself up like that someday! Especially if the father suddenly dies.

For a very short time, I felt sympathy for the elder Vakarian. I saw the look in his eyes. He definitely wanted to catch Garrus and talk. To close the gap of misunderstanding that has opened between them. He's genuinely worried about his son. She's just scared for his life! And rightly so. There are reasons. The elder Vakarian knows perfectly well how famous Garrus has become among the local scumbags and what kind of raids are being organized on him! Yes, the whole C-SEC and the Citadel knows it! That's just it... If he looks even a little like his son, then he won't say what he wants with all his heart, but what he has to say. And all his endeavors will end in another conflict. As if not the last. And Garrus understands that perfectly well. Maybe that's why he's avoiding his father. To delay this conversation and the inevitable final breakup?

"And you haven't been in touch since?" I asked quietly, catching his eye.

"No"

And in her bright blue light eyes there is longing and pain. Garrus genuinely loves his family, but keeps his distance from them. He doesn't even risk getting close. He knows that he will not be understood, and does not even try to explain himself, so as not to spoil the relationship even more and not disappoint his loved ones. I just don't have the words! A completely lonely guy with a living and loving family! And they love him, as far as I remember, even though they don't take him seriously. Mda...

Nihlus sat brooding and overcast. Did you also appreciate the depth of Vakarian's ass? I must have appreciated it! Yes, I also felt it! He can't help but feel it, even if he wants to. He doesn't know how to shut himself off yet. Empathy is sometimes a true evil. And Garrus is shaking so much that his mind is twisted by a storm of emotions, even though his face is wearing the usual mask of equanimity and calm.

Is it any wonder that he became attached to us so quickly and firmly? We accepted him for who he is, with all his advantages and disadvantages. Without masks and pretense, without saying a single word of censure, without trying to force us to adapt to us and break our personality. Garrus is smart and observant, and it was not difficult for an excellent investigator to understand exactly how he was treated. And once he understood, he couldn't help but accept what was offered to him. Just like that, without demanding anything in return. I couldn't give up what I wanted so much. We became his family, albeit unconsciously, on an instinctive level. A reasonable person cannot be completely alone without harm to reason. Moreover, he is alone in a crowd. There should be an inner circle. It may be narrow, but it has to be! But Garrus didn't have one, and the guy was slowly stewing in his problems, gradually acquiring an outer armor of equanimity, unshakeable calmness and ironic sarcasm.

Nihlus himself has no one close to him except Saren. That's why he freaks out at the thought of a mentor. Although... What a mentor he is to the demons! I've seen quite a lot of images in Nihlus' memory. Saren may have been holding a brick in his face, but his actions speak for themselves. This is not the way to treat a student, colleague, or friend. That's how they treat their little brother!

I called up the menu and dialed the order. Garrus practically did not perceive reality, plunged back into gloomy thoughts, and Nihlus only looked at me skeptically, but did not object. We're flying to Vermaer tomorrow. And who knows how things will go. There are too many unknowns. The risk of failure is too high.

"Fuck it all!" I squeezed the hard and hot brush. "I have no one in this reality at all. Just the two of you. So... May it all burn with the flame of decay! Tomorrow we will be in space, but in the meantime we are walking."

"Do you want to please Sparatus?" Nihlus asked ironically.

"Did you see his face? He's just looking forward to morning reading and a boost of energy for the whole day ahead!"

"Then... Let's not disappoint our immediate superiors." Krayk grinned.

Our order was brought to us. The pretty Azari looked at me strangely as she set the bottles on the table. The reason only came to me when I saw the outright horror on her face when we poured alcohol and started drinking. She even came over and tried to warn:

"This is for you... You can't! It's Turian alcohol!"

I looked skeptically at the familiar bottle.

"I can. My body digests both types of foods. Thank you for your concern."

The Asari nodded uncertainly and retreated. And I took the glass Nihlus held out... She noted alcohol as not life-threatening, preventing the body from equating it to poison and instantly splitting it into safe components. Since we're walking... So we're going for a walk. I want to get drunk in good company and forget about ALL the problems at least until the morning. Even if later I will be painfully ashamed of what I will do on a drunken head.

Apparently, similar thoughts were walking in the minds of the Turians, as we set to work cheerfully. Garrus was drowning his thoughts about his family, Nihlus was drowning his thoughts about Saren, who had firmly taken the place of his long-dead brother, at the same time trying to distance himself from the storm of Garrus' emotions. Of course, nothing worked out for him, but by the end of the fifth bottle, Vakarian recovered a little and perked up. We started telling stories from life. When Saren's name was mentioned again, our brains turned on and it dawned on us that it was normal for us not to relax in front of strangers, because we would have to filter the speech. Loaded up with alcohol, we went to Nihlus.

Apparently, Nihlus made a mistake when he indicated the destination, as the taxi dropped us off at the markets of the Lower City. After looking around the area with a happy gaze, we stumbled through the entire Market for some kind of horseradish to the far taxi terminal, pushing reasonable people aside with our elbows. Naturally, we couldn't help but run into a compliment. Some big-eyed Batarian mug recognized the drunken Turian, half-hanging on Nihlus, as the familiar and reverently beloved Garrus Vakarian, and with a cry of "That's him!", Batar reached for a pistol. Garrus woke up for just a moment: silently snatching the pistol from the clip, he put a bullet between the four eyes of the noisy freak, looked around with unfocused eyes at the fucking people, and asked hoarsely:

"Krayk... Where have you taken us?"

"I made a mistake." the fake Spectrum shrugged, removing the weapon from his belt, and admitted quite casually. "And they're going to kill us here"...

"Not... They can't." Garrus critically examined the local scumbags who were gathering for free entertainment and issued a verdict. "I'm a sharpshooter. The pistol is powerful and quick-firing."

"You're drunk."

"Yes... But I'm still good at it."

"And there are many of them." the critical gaze of green eyes, which quickly acquire crystal clarity and concentration. "Someone will have an entertaining read..."

I watched all this with detached interest, rolling a grenade between my fingers and holding a pistol in my left hand.

A burly Krogan pushed his way out of the crowd. After critically examining our composition, he spat and said:

"Spectr - do not touch. Kill Vakarian."

Which Spectr should I not touch? My brain stalled on a simple task with two values and froze. Alternatively, the reasonable ones dragged the weapon, and the second part of the phrase reached me.

"Garrus... And they want to kill you."

"They always want to kill me." the guy remarked philosophically.

And then he just raised his gun and opened fire without hesitation.

I've never seen anything even close to it. The drunk, barely standing Turian fired with the cold, calculating precision of a machine and with the regularity of a metronome. The gun in his hand moved just enough for the bullet to enter the head of the next chosen victim. No matter how much his legs stumbled, his hand did not waver for a moment. The light blue eyes of a drunk who was completely out of touch with reality looked calm, cold, calculating, practically without blinking. And not a single glimmer of superfluous thought. The drunken autopilot easily and without any conflict with consciousness went into a combat trance, showing us the dark side of Garrus Vakarian, the Archangel.

We woke up from a short-term stupor at the same time. The sentients raised their weapons, shouted, and ran to the sides, trying to find cover. Someone tried to shoot the swaying shooter, but at that moment I struck, sweeping the crowd wide with a powerful mental impact, bypassing only two. Combat mentalism in all its dubious glory. Stupor, out of sync of the brain, deep fear, impaired coordination of movements. Not for long, for about ten seconds, until the body regains its work.

Nihlus was enveloped in the dark blue glow of passive biotics, yanked the blade from his hip, and with one sharp jerk broke into the compact group, knocking out an assault rifle with his hand and forcing the enemy to open his torso. The sword easily rips open the stomach, passing through the victim's powerful kinetic shield without resistance, the pistol in his left hand snaps off shots, the Turian kneels on the inertia of movement and rotation of the body, shifts the sight and double into the enemy standing slightly to the side.

Movement from the side. Turian and Batar. To the first - in the vulnerable neck, to the second - between the eyes! Batar lay down, and the Turian ducked. You twirly bastard! Shot, shot. The tour fell to the floor, drenching the metal with dark blue blood from the severed head.

Garrus's pistol clicked dryly. The thermoclip has exhausted itself. The guy blinked, falling to one knee, snapped off the clip, reached into his pocket and pulled out a new one. A man flew up to him, shouting indistinctly. Clawed fingers slid down his shin and wrapped around the long hilt. Garrus stands up quickly, shifting slightly to the side, a sharp blow, a knife rips open his throat, almost severing his neck. The body falls to the floor, Garrus removes the knife and raises the gun... Nihlus knocked him down and dragged him by the scruff of the neck behind the counter. Bullets rattled against the metal, I reloaded my pistol, leaned out from behind cover, and threw a grenade. There was an explosion, and someone screamed. His head was spinning with hatred and thirst for murder...

Who knows how our campaign would have ended if the C-SEC hadn't shown up at the shooting.

The scumbags scurried to the sides, and we, after only a moment's thought, joined the hasty escape, and managed to jump into an empty taxi aircar just a couple of moments before the soldiers in familiar black and blue armor noticed us.

Apparently, Nihlus was not mistaken this time, as the taxi dropped us off at a familiar house. The C-SEC patrol deuce watched with round eyes as, disheveled and covered in colorful blood, we fell out of the car, complained about the ruined alcohol and violent scumbags in the Lower City, put away our weapons and stomped to the nearest store. Nihlus was known here, and they didn't bother us, but with what eyes they looked after us!

On the way to the apartment, we almost broke one of the drawers, but Garrus put his knee in time, staggering a little. Having blocked the doors, we occupied the sofa and.. Here we go. The alcohol was getting stronger, and the conversation turned smoothly to memories. The stories gradually became more sincere, recalling deeply personal things that still touch my soul. A kind of confession to those who can understand. We were just pouring out our hearts, telling things that hurt our hearts. Emotions pressed on the brain, resonating. I told them about my rebirths. Some of them. Like, for example, the rebirth into a furry cross between a cat and a hamster a meter in height. The guys laughed when I complained about how I had picked up the local equivalent of fleas in the swamp and told them how I got them out of thick wool. And I laughed when Garrus told stories from army school. About the mined positions during the withdrawal, where the second squad was conditionally blown up, and the instructor sent him to the hospital with broken ribs. About the unauthorized change of position, when he practiced the role of a sniper and mowed down both attacking units, and again ended up in the hospital for creatively rethinking the order. Nihlus told how for the first time he violated the order while still in training, but the instructor was hospitalized with a broken arm and a triple leg fracture. They laughed. And then I started talking about my studies at the Academy. About the jokes of mentalists and the horrors of their work, about the consequences, about what can be made out of a reasonable being with proper imagination, and how much effort and time it will take. About mental and energy exhaustion, from which you can easily fall into a coma, from which you can no longer get out without help, and burn to the state of a withered mummy. The Turians were impressed and asked about how to help in this case. I've told you everything I know. About direct and indirect energy transfer, about mental "blinds", which sometimes cause more problems than benefits. Especially when they fall and the mind goes haywire. She explained how regeneration occurs naturally during sleep, eating or sex. She described what an energy recharge channel is and how to create it, showing it already installed and working on Nihlus..., and Nihlus himself talked about serving in the Spectr status, about the peculiarities of different types, about the traditions and customs of his people. Garrus described a couple of interesting rituals and festivals common in his home world. In general, it was... informative.

By the end of the last crate, they remembered about the shields. Garrus complained that I had already installed Nihlus, but I had forgotten about it... And Vermaer is coming soon. And it's only a five-day flight.

Which of us came up with the idea of taking up shields now, brilliant in its senility? I don't know. I do not remember. But the fact remains. The last coherent memory is of bright light blue unfocused eyes, a picture of a crippled mind with a great many self-directed bookmarks... And a stupid conversation:

"Garrus, you've got your brain in bookmarks."

"From where?" He was surprised.

"You taught it yourself, you idiot! Take pictures?"

Just a moment to think about it and a decisive response in a slurred tongue:

"Take it off!"

Then there is a jumble of fragments of work: a spreading veil on the core, a rising first shield, a sprouting Maze on the core of the personality, reliably hiding from surface scanning and forceful attack, a strengthening second and third veil, rising supports of the natural shield, thinning and crumbling strands of spontaneous bookmarks, dissolving stops on the emotional sphere and overwhelming us all with a wave of powerful contradictory, once consciously suppressed emotions and feelings...

My mind was slowly coming out of sleep and a slight hangover. The first sounds I heard and realized were the quiet beating of someone else's heart under my head and measured, even breathing with a barely audible purr on exhalation.

The sleepy gloom had worn off, and I finally opened my eyes, gradually realizing the situation. There are hot and hard plates under my cheek, the warmth of a body pressing against my back, and calm breathing in the area of my shoulder blades.

Op-pa... What a good morning...

I was lying on Garrus's chest, resting my head comfortably on the hard but smooth plates of natural armor, wrapping my left arm around his shoulder and throwing my leg over my hips. Nihlus was breathing quite heavily into my back just above my shoulder blades, wrapping a heavy, strong arm around my shoulders and pressing his whole body against mine. And he was clearly awake.

I listened to the body. Was it or wasn't it? The pleasant languor made it clear - it was! And it was good.

And the most annoying thing is that I... ALMOST DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING!

His measured breathing faltered, his heart began to pound faster, and Nihlus snorted a laugh into his shoulder blades.

"Did I say that out loud?" I asked quietly, and without intending to move.

A strong hand pulled me closer.

Oh, what emotions... Garrus woke up and realized what he had heard.

"Don't you remember anything at all?" a quiet, vibrating voice, full of apprehension and some kind of dull longing.

I carefully raised myself up, resting my hand on the sturdy plates of my natural armor. Garrus was looking at me intently, as if he was trying to find something... I was afraid that the search would be successful.

You're looking for nothing! Just because I vaguely remember the process itself, it doesn't mean that I'm against it... and from the realization of the situation, I will now be hysterical, roll my eyes and behave like a hysterical little fool. Oh, my... It's terrifying... Just think about it... I spent the night with two men, for whom I am ready to put this reality on cancer and turn it inside out! Oh, Garrus... You don't know me very well yet. Nihlus got it right away. He lies and enjoys himself, listening with some academic interest to the storm of emotions. The empath is a beginner...

Reaching out, I gently touched the hard cheekbone. Warm hard chitin, slightly rough to the touch. The blue eyes blinked in surprise. Garrus looked at me as if he'd never seen me before. His fingers slid down the convulsively twitching mandible onto the exposed golden-coffee-colored skin. Soft, velvety, slightly bumpy. And very hot. The surprise in his eyes slowly faded, and for a moment there was a flash of relief and joy.

"I remember something." I purred, looking at the expressive face with interest. The last thing that remained in my memory... the memories obediently unfolded in front of my inner vision, showing in all their glory... "How I put up shields for you... and.. filmed it... bookmarks..." I said dully, feeling my hair stand on end all over my body.

I straightened up abruptly, almost flying off the spot. Great and Indivisible! WHAT WAS I DOING?! I caught his gaze and fell into my mind. Gods forbid if I did something wrong drunk! It was there too...

I was... taken aback by the picture I saw: clearly structured defenses, raised strong shields, smooth veils, completely removed spontaneous bookmarks and suggestions... HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE?! Yes, there was work for about five days!

"Drinking is evil!" I said, and Nihlus chuckled softly. "But evil is funny. And, sometimes, useful. She closed her eyes, waiting out a belated panic attack. What were you thinking when you let a drunk mentalist get into your mind?" I whispered faintly, sliding limply onto the bed.

Garrus relaxed a little.

"I trust you."

He trusts me... I don't trust myself in this state! I was working with HIS brain! What if I was wrong? Just move the concepts and associations a little bit, and that's it... the mind can go to hell if a conflict begins...

"It was... Inconsiderate!"

Nihlus rolled onto his back, put his hands behind his head and looked at me with interest. And no twitching and mental tossing. A completely satisfied look.

"Nihlus, as the most non-shy, will you show me what I forgot?"

Garrus blinked in embarrassment. Nihlus grinned cheekily.

"I won't show you."

I raised an eyebrow in silent question, looking with interest at the lounging Turian. No, of course, I can sort through the memory and pull out everything with details almost every second... and I'll even do it in order to know what erased exhaustion from my short-term memory. But a little later.

"I can demonstrate it." And a sly, leering smile.

An interesting wave of emotion came from Garrus... Wow... Complete solidarity!

"Everything is clear with you." I smiled. "Are you completely satisfied with what happened?"

"Not quite. You don't remember, and you were drunk." a slight shrug of the shoulders. "As it is, yes. Quite." irony in the look. "I don't see it"...

He stopped when he heard the soft chirping of an instrumentron from his left hand. His and mine. We looked at each other in silence and simultaneously deployed the golden interface. Incoming call, subscriber...

"Advisor Sparatus!" we exhaled in one voice.

A short stupor, realization of the situation, and mats and I flew up on the bed to Garrus' loud laughter.

"It's not funny, Vakarian!" Nihlus howled, jerking the jumbled clothes to the floor.

The laughter turned into an outright hysterical neigh. Nihlus picked up my things and threw them to me, scooping up his own. The omny-tool began to squeak again, whipping up a recalcitrant horse like a rein.

"Is he taking such petty revenge on me for the late-night call?" Nihlus growled, pulling on his pants as the incoming signal beeped.

"Or maybe?" I pulled on my T-shirt and tucked it into my pants, running my fingers through my tousled hair.

"Maybe!" Nihlus straightened the collar of his tank top.

We flew out into the hall and froze in a stupor at the sight. A Horde has been walking here for a week... and not alone... and more than once...

A second to comprehend what he saw.

"The arsenal!" Nihlus gasped.

Four seconds later, we were looking at Councilor Sparatus's face, which was positively glowing with anticipation. And even though he was trying to make his usual stone face, but his eyes... Hey, what eyes he had!

"Advisor." Nihlus politely inclined his head, looking suspiciously into sparkling eyes.

The spectr of Nihlus, the spectr of Irene... I must say, you surpassed all my expectations yesterday... expectations.

Oh mo-o-other... He's already been tipped off... That's just why he's got such a happy-happy face... Or does he really get high when Pallin scribbles to him on the Spectr of the cart? I don't believe he calls his subordinates every time to fuck up. He must have taken a fancy to us...

"I was sent an EXTREMELY entertaining video about yours... resolving the conflict in the market." a hard smile. "Fifty-four bodies."

How much?! Apparently Nihlus was also impressed, because his face fell.

"I'm sorry, Counselor. It was self-defense."

"I saw." the grin became just carnivorous. "I'm waiting for you in the Council Chamber. In fifteen minutes. Three of them."

And the connection is gone.

For several long, agonizing seconds, we stared at the disabled omny-tool, digesting what was said. A strange conversation... What was he calling for? Just to tell us what's in store for the Council Chamber in fifteen minutes?

Stop!

Fifteen minutes. The Council Chamber.

Holy shit! It takes half an hour to get from here to the Council Tower by taxi! Nihlus's green eyes widened at the realization of the situation, and he swore dully. We flew out of the arsenal on the second day.

"Garrus! Get dressed!"

The guy sat up in bed, looking at our contorted faces in surprise.

"Sparatus has ordered you to the Council Chamber! Everyone!"

"And?" Vakarian did not understand the setup.

"IN FIFTEEN MINUTES!"

A moment of realization, light blue eyes open wide, and Garrus flies up from a prone position.

"I have an aircar." Nihlus gasped. "We can make it! Sparatus, you brute!"

We've never been going so fast! We swept through the wrecked apartment like a tsunami, managing to put on the missing pieces of clothing, grab a weapon, a key card, and identification cards, close our lives, and roll down to the hangar.

I will remember the flight to the Council Tower for a long time! They say a Shepard player driving a Mako is evil. I declare authoritatively that a real Nihlus running late at the helm of an aircar is much scarier! We raced at the maximum speed for this car over the very houses, dodging between slow vehicles, skidding between tall trees, not risking climbing higher, where the main transport routes of the Citadel passed. I don't know which guys were flying after us, or how the C-SEC didn't try to slow us down, but exactly ten minutes later, a black aircar almost crashed into the square in front of the Council Tower under the surprised gazes of the walking sentients.

We stormed down the long staircase and into the elevator, thanking the Reapers for the first time for this slow torture device. While he was crawling up, we managed to catch our breath, put our clothes in order, look more or less decent and calm down.

There was a closed meeting in the Council Chamber, as the Turian C-SEC informed us. We looked at each other uncomprehendingly. It's not like Sparatus to make such a setup. And then the fighter, looking at our surprised faces, must have figured something out, because after a skeptical look, he asked:

"The spectr of Nihlus Krayk, the Spectr of Irene Shepard, Garrus Vakarian?"

We nodded.

"They're waiting for you."

And he let us through.

There are no advisers in the Room... There was no one there. Don't you understand? What are they gathered for? After walking along the long platform, we froze in front of the Council, silently and questioningly looking at the three intelligences endowed with supreme authority.

And then...

the soft deep voice of Councilor Tevos solemnly said:

"Garrus Vakarian. Step forward..."

Chapter 27: Accidents

Two hours before the Council meeting

The soft beep of an incoming signal broke the silence of the office, attracting the attention of its owner. Advisor Sparatus opened the interface and looked at the name of the caller who had been calling him so persistently in the early morning. Director of C-SEC. The mandibles twitched and slowly crawled to the sides. Sparatus smiled broadly and touched the answer button, already guessing what his old friend was so eager to tell him. A window opened above the table, showing the face of the C-SEC director. The narrowed eyes, the mandibles pressed tightly to the cheeks, and the sudden movements clearly showed: Venari Pallin is furious.

"Advisor Sparatus." Pallin examined the room carefully.

"I'm alone, speak freely. What happened?"

A short pause, a deep breath, and...

"What happened? Your scumbags happened!" Venari exhaled sharply with a low growl, almost imperceptible to a human ear. "I have fifty-four corpses and more than three dozen wounded! Do you even know what they're doing?!!"

Sparatus raised his head shields in surprise.

"Who are we talking about?"

"Krayk and company."

Sparatus choked.

"Krayk, Shepard and Vakarian?"

"They are."

"Are you saying that these three killed so many people for no reason?"

Pallin grimaced.

"I didn't say there was no reason."

"Who did they kill?"

"Mercenaries and gang members from the Markets of the Lower City."

"Threesome?" Sparatus asked skeptically.

"Take a look for yourself."

The interface of the connected node flashed, informing about the forwarding of the video file. The advisor activated the holographic projector and brought the broadcast to it. A three-dimensional projection unfolded on the table: a taxi aircar landing and three sentients getting out of it, barely standing on their feet.

"Are they drunk?"

"Before losing touch with reality."

Then the two of them watched: the three of them pushing through the crowd, the Batarian, shouting, raising his gun, the Vakarian, waking up for a moment, shooting him in the forehead with one shot, the short stupor of those around him, the well-known Krogan, the leader of the gang, a short order and.. a massacre. Sparatus zoomed in on the image, rewound it a bit, and restarted it. The words rang out loudly in the silence of the office:

"Spectrum - do not touch. Kill Vakarian."

A short incomprehensible stupor of the trio, a surprised female voice:

"Garrus... And they want to kill you."

And the answer, spoken in a halting, vibrating voice.

"They always want to kill me."

Sparatus chuckled at this philosophical calmness and continued to watch very carefully as the young Turian, swaying slightly, raised his pistol and opened fire. The cold gray-green eyes stared intently, hard, analyzing and noting the amazing accuracy of the shooter and the economy of his measured movements, the well-coordinated work of his partners covering him. He still did not understand what exactly Shepard had done, causing short-term stupor and panic among the attackers, and noted the actions of Nihlus, shrouded in unnaturally dark biotic fire, which he had never shown before. But the young Vakarian got the most attention.

The recording ended when the trio got into a taxi. Sparatus stared thoughtfully at his friend's angry face, tapping his claw on the table.

"Interesting."

"Is that all you can say?" Pallin jumped up.

"What do you want to hear? It was self-defense. I saw it myself."

Pallin grimaced.

"Saw. The Spectr's are not subject to jurisdiction, but the Vakarian is completely. If desired and properly trained, he can even be convicted of self-defense."

Sparatus straightened up, looking at his friend's face with slight displeasure.

"Who?"

"The younger Vakarian has many enemies. All I needed was an excuse."

"Is that so?" The counselor frowned.

I am being asked to press charges.

"Krayk and Shepard won't leave him without help." Sparatus said the obvious fact for both of them.

"I understand it." Venari grimaced. "I have enough problems without two vengeful Spectres."

"I will solve the problem with Vakarian."

Pallin stared intently at his old friend's face. And the longer he looked, the more surprised his eyes became.

"You're not going to..."

The counselor chuckled.

"He will be a worthy addition to the Turian corps."

"He is uncontrollable and unpredictable!"

"So much the better." Sparatus raised his hand, interrupting the other's objections with a gesture. "Venari, did you know that the Spectrum Turian corps is the smallest?"

The C-SEC director blinked in surprise.

"no."

"Three times less in number than the Salarian and five times less than the Azarian. Finding a worthy candidate is a great success. Many do not stand up to the test and are eliminated. Those who remain..." Sparatus shook his head. "In the last ten years, we've only assigned three Specters from our race, and we've lost twelve!"

"I didn't know." Pallin was unpleasantly surprised.

"The younger Vakarian was put on surveillance six years ago. He fits. I can't throw away such promising candidates."

"What about the regulations?"

"He works with active Spectr's and has completed missions on Therum and Noveria. Krayk has been unofficially appointed as the curator. The regulations have been observed."

Pallin sighed and bowed his head.

"Do as you see fit. But hurry up."

Venari Pallin switched off. Sparatus thought about it, staring intently at the figure of a young kinsman, frozen with a raised pistol. Anticipation flickered in the gray-green eyes for a moment.

"What an opportunity..."

We literally led Garrus out of the Council Chamber by the hand under the understanding and extremely pleased gaze of Sparatus. Valern watched us with interest, but Tevos just smiled. I agree with Nihlus. Sparatusss... You bastard! He could have warned in advance or prepared at least a little mentally! But no... Look at the pleasure he gets from watching a confused Garrus who has fallen into a stupor. With fatherly affection, indeed!

The appointment surprised me, but not so much. I was secretly expecting something like this, but not so fast. Apparently, there was some reason that accelerated the events, but there was no particular desire to find out, although I assume that the massacre we staged at the Market was to blame. I'm afraid if we find out the truth, we'll have to stay at the Citadel, and someone will probably die. Sparatus is not someone who will rush or do anything rashly. There must be a reason. And the reason is serious.

Apparently, Nihlus had similar thoughts in his head, as he walked frowning and gloomy. Garrus was still out, mechanically shuffling his feet and going where he was being led, and returning to Nihlus' trashed apartment passed him by. Our sniper woke up only when he was forcibly seated on a sofa and a glass of strong alcohol was inserted into his hand.

"Drink up!" Nihlus muttered.

Garrus blinked, looking in surprise at the mess around us, turned his gaze to his kinsman, but obediently drank in one gulp. He choked and coughed, sucking in air with a wheeze.

"Feeling better?" I asked, carefully taking the glass from my convulsively clenched fingers.

The light blue eyes blinked.

The guy rubbed his face.

"thanks." a short pause and a confused: "It was... suddenly..."

Grabbing his right hand, I sat down next to him, slowly pulled off a short fingerless glove from his hand and threw it on a chair. Garrus paused, looking at me with surprise in his eyes as I examined his brush. He opened his mouth, but after thinking about it, he closed it and said nothing, allowing me to do what I want.

I hadn't had a chance to take a closer look at the Turian before. They rarely allowed outsiders to see their bodies at all. And it's not about embarrassment or any moral and religious prohibitions, but simply because representatives of other races react to them... not too adequate. They even wore gloves in public, even though I knew they were quite uncomfortable and annoying.

Garrus stared intently at my face while I felt his hand with interest. And what was he waiting for? Was he thinking up some kind of heresy again and patiently waiting for its confirmation? She looked into bright blue eyes. Well, exactly! He's used to being shunned by untrained people. Nihlus watched us for a couple of minutes, kicked away the bottles that had rolled across the floor and sat down on the armrest of the sofa next to me, and I felt clawed fingers digging into my hair, barely touching my scalp. Nice...

Where did the bad idea that Turians are prickly come from? Nothing like that! The exposed skin is dense, but very soft, velvety to the touch. Chitinous plates are smooth, hot, slightly rough, but by no means prickly! I stroked my hand with my fingertips, studying Garrus' reaction. He was perfectly aware of touch, not only on exposed skin, but also on chitinous plates, although not so acutely. It's interesting. I turned his hand upside down. A strong, broad male hand, with small chitinous plates on the back of the palm, forming a kind of natural knuckles with strong knuckles, but the inner side is soft. The fingers are long, flexible, twice as long and thicker than mine, counting the massive, strong claws. Anyway, the brush is larger, but the outlines are pleasant to the eye. The wrist is narrow, turning into a strong forearm, protected by a kind of shield made of solid chitin on the outside, darker than on the hand and much more durable, with a clearly visible metal patch. The elbow is sharp, ending in a predatory-looking short three-centimeter spike. The shoulder is strong. Under the natural exoskeleton, powerful muscles are visible, much stronger than those of a person of similar build. Turians are indeed much stronger than humans physically, second only to Krogan in sheer strength. And then, not much.

"Is it interesting?" Nihlus purred in my ear.

I leaned back, tilted my head back, meeting the gaze of bright green eyes.

"Very! I couldn't see it this morning. And then Sparatus, a kind soul, tore us off the spot."

Nihlus snorted.

"He's not going to let go that easily now. Working as an adviser sometimes causes him wild boredom. So he's having fun to the best of his vast abilities and sick imagination."

"And here we are?"

"yes."

"What's his interest?" Garrus asked.

"He's amused by our drinking sprees and Venari's screams." A clawed finger gently stroked my chin. "I believe Pallin sent him the recordings from the Market cameras."

"What's the point of Pallin himself?"

"He still hopes that Sparatus will keep us on a short leash." Nihlus grunted. "As far as I know, they are old friends and served together after graduation. Sparatus looks at the antics of his Spectr's with a bit of irony, until we start tearing the Citadel to pieces and killing for no reason."

"And Pallin?"

"And Pallin freaks out when he has to sort out the next problems for us."

"He can be understood." Garrus said.

"You can, of course. So we try not to do much on the Citadel..." He waved his hand vaguely. "How should I put it that way?.. Keep yourself in line. And here... Fifty-four bodies. So he howled."

Garrus froze.

"How much?"

"Sparatus said fifty-four." Nihlus grinned. "I guess at least half of them came from a neat hole in the head." Garrus lowered his eyes. By God! If he could blush, he would!

"The Special Corps has been watching you for quite some time. I've been writing reports on you to Sparatus for the fourth year now."

Garrus blinked in surprise.

"Yes, yes." the green-eyed ulcer grinned in full grin. "Four years, with all the details and a complete analysis of your actions, with an assessment of your fighting qualities, behavior, results and mistakes." Nihlus bent down and buried his nose in my hair. "Soft... And you smell delicious."

"Will you bite?" I smiled.

"I'll think..." He purred in response in a delightful vibrant voice.

"Think carefully. Haven't you forgotten? I am a metamorph." in front of Garrus, who was surprised to the point of amazement, I grew a long claw and showed it to Nihlus.

"Forgot." He gently touched the tip of the claw and, naturally, cut himself deeply. "However..."

"I can get a practically monomolecular edge." I cupped his finger and licked off the blue blood. "The possibilities of my body are endless." the wound in my eyes has healed.

"But how did it happen? The body was human..."

"The soul is primary and adjusts the body to its needs." I shrugged, returning my hand to its usual shape. "After moving in, the aura unfolds in the same way as that of a newborn. Layer by layer, except much faster. The body adjusts itself. My aura is very energetic. So... A month, well, a month and a half, and I'm a full-fledged metamorph again.

"But HOW is this possible?"

"We are all energy, Nihlus. And one energy can easily influence another, embodied in a material form. This is the basis of magic. Any. The inclination and power of the soul initiates the development of the core in the physical body, as far as reality allows. But there is something that is universal everywhere, even in the depths of Chaos. His gifts and curses." I smiled. "Mentalism is one of these gifts. This is a property of the mind and soul. Not bodies. Once you become a mentalist, you will always remain one, as long as you keep your mind. Mind magic based on vital energy. It does not depend on the outside world and its laws. It does not require external energy sources, as for some other species."

"You're talking about magic like it's real." Garrus said softly.

Instead of answering, I raised my hand, forming what people almost always called a fireball or arrow. A small spherical ball of fire burned merrily in the palm of his hand, driving both Turians into a state of stupor.

"This reality is extremely poor in the energy needed to use elemental magic. What I put into this balloon, in a normal magically active world, is enough to demolish an entire city from the face of the planet, drowning it in lava. That's why I don't use magic. Ineffective. A regular rifle will do the same damage. The only thing that works without misfires is that it relies on an internal reserve or on a Fundamental Principle that doesn't care about such small things as the laws of reality at all."

"But CAN you use it?"

"I can, of course." I shrugged my shoulders. "I've been reborn more than twenty times already. And there were only seven incarnations in non-magical worlds. Counting this. Naturally, I know a lot and can do a lot, trying to learn something in each incarnation, even if it only lasts a couple of days or hours." Nihlus shuddered, gripping my shoulder tightly. "Yes, there were some. So... You know that. Just because I'm not doing something doesn't mean I can't do it. True, I haven't reached my full strength yet, but that's very soon. I feel. A qualitative leap is coming soon."

"And then what?"

"And then I will get full control over everything that I have managed to bind to my soul. For example, to your spatial pocket. And there I have useful things that don't even have close analogues in this reality."

"How did you become like this? A wanderer through life?" Garrus asked quietly.

"An accident." I shrugged my shoulders. "I was born in a completely non-magical world." Even you have a kind of magic tied to the life energy of the carrier and the radiation catalyst. Biotics. And in my home world, there wasn't even the slightest manifestation. But come on... after death, she woke up in someone else's body."

"And no idea how it happened?" Nihlus asked cautiously.

"Well, why not? There is a certain mechanism for the appearance of people like me. I'll tell you later. I met the attentive gaze of green eyes. Irene promised to tell you later.

Nihlus nodded in agreement and buried his nose in my hair again.

"Do we have until tonight?" Garrus asked.

"Yes. The crew is partially disabled. Ship on loading: Sebastian complained about the strange selection of products, so I sent him shopping. Anyway, the bill will go to the military department of the Alliance. Let them pay for the grub for their crew."

"Won't they whine?"

"They will, of course. But dextro-products are paid for by the Council. I can live perfectly well without ordinary people, but people can't. We'll feed Joker, Karin, Rex and Liara out of our own pockets. Oh, and the engineering room. Although it is difficult to feed Rex."

Nihlus snorted, and Garrus couldn't help but smile.

"And if he doesn't pay?"

"I'll drop you off at the demons at the nearest station. At least there will be a reason to get rid of them without blood. And then they got it - they don't have the strength."

Garrus shook his head in surprise.

"What are our plans?"

"Clean up the dilute garbage." Nihlus muttered. "The apartment looks like they've been partying in it for three days!"

"Yes. It wouldn't hurt." I nodded in agreement. "Otherwise, I'm afraid a new life will be born here by our return."

The Turians laughed.

In order to speed up the process, we distributed the responsibilities and started cleaning. While Garrus and I were collecting bottles and trash, Nihlus started cleaning up, starting with the least affected area, the bedroom. Collecting the bottles in bags, I was just amazed how we managed to suck out so much and not end up in the infirmary with poisoning. To drink SO MUCH strong alcohol - it was necessary to manage! Garrus wiped the table and the spilled alcohol off the floor. Picking up the last ones, I stomped into the kitchen, where there was a waste disposal unit, when...

A wave of pure, uncluttered rage and bloody rage swept through the mental plane. I was numb. What is it? The bottles slipped out of my hands and splattered across the floor. Garrus whirled around and looked at me questioningly. The rage crystallized into a clear and meaningful desire to kill.

"Nihlus?" I asked cautiously.

The door opened and Nihlus biotics, glowing dark blue, almost purple with crimson reflections, slowly entered the hall, clutching them in his hands... the datapad. Oh mother... It must have fallen out of my pocket yesterday...

"Where does this come from?" The icy voice trembled with rage, breaking into sounds that I could barely hear.

"Jeff put together a crew for me from the chatter." I shrugged, realizing that it was pointless to deny it, and the enraged Turian would shake out the truth.

"What's there?" Garrus asked cautiously.

Instead of answering, Nihlus silently tossed him a datapad. Garrus caught it and started reading. I closed my eyes. That's it... Now I'm going to have two Turians in a rage. And... what a Chaos! They have a right to know! Maybe if they kill a couple of idiots, others will start making friends with their heads!

An outburst of rage, much more powerful and destructive, ripped through the mental. Garrus clenched his fingers so that the datapad crackled. Soothing with words is pointless. I just went over and hugged the pissed-off Turian.

"Never mind."

"Are you protecting them?" Nihlus literally growled.

I turned my head, looking into the green eyes in surprise.

"Don't be silly!"

"Why didn't you tell me then?" Garrus asked, slowly calming down.

"So that you can kill them?" I snorted into the warm fabric of my T-shirt. "Yes, we would have been too tired to wash the ship of blood later. There's no point getting your hands dirty about them. But if you really want to, you can break all the bones and chop off someone's guts."

The biotic glow disappeared, and Nihlus swore softly.

"You're right. Get your hands dirty about them... No, you shouldn't. But it's better for them to start watching their language. I can rip it out."

"Rip it out. Maybe your brain will start working. Otherwise, we've completely lost our fear." I shrugged my shoulders. "But they were certainly right about one thing..."

"Really..." Garrus purred.

The Turians exchanged glances, and then Garrus bent down and picked me up in his arms.

"You do realize that you're going to have to finish cleaning anyway, don't you?" I said, wrapping my arms around his neck.

"Nothing. We'll clean it up later... ourselves..." Garrus promised and carried me to the bedroom.

"Then..." I gently slid my fingers over the golden-coffee skin. "Agreed... Later, then later."

Garrus swallowed, momentarily losing his stride. Lifting herself a little on his arms, slowly, barely touching the skin with her lips, she kissed his neck, barely noticeably grabbing the skin with her teeth. The strong arms tightened, and Garrus almost stumbled, barely fitting into the doorway. A couple of quick steps and I'm on the bed, and the Turian pulls back, staring intently into my face with bright light blue eyes.

Nihlus sat down on the bed to my right, carefully ran a clawed hand over my face, dug into my hair, passing short strands between his fingers.

"They're so soft..." The heavy head bowed, he buried his face in his hair, took a deep breath.

"Hold on..."

I pulled back a little, shook my head, and my hair began to grow rapidly... until a long, waist-length, heavy mane fell on my back.

"Being a metamorph... There are advantages to this."

Nihlus exhaled softly, ran his hands through his long hair, tremulously rolling the shiny red strands between his fingers.

"I've never seen it... so long..." he buried his face in my hair, pressing his forehead against my back. "Gentle... Only your race has that... Hair." A quiet chuckle. "I would never have thought that they would be so... They're attractive..."

Garrus kicked off his shoes and lay down on the left, propping himself up on his elbow and pulling up my T-shirt, exposing my stomach.

"Soft." He rubbed his face against my stomach like a cat, barely noticeably tickling my skin with his breath. "And you smell delicious..." The sharp teeth barely bit the skin, causing an involuntary groan.

Garrus pulled back a little, exchanged glances with Nihlus... and with four hands, they shook me out of my clothes, knocking them haphazardly to the floor. Along with his own. We'll leave tomorrow, but there's only the three of us here right now. Me, Nihlus and Garrus.

Nihlus stuck tightly to my mane, almost meditating on the long red strands, fingering them, pressing his face, inhaling the scent, and I... studied the young Turian sitting in front of me, slowly sliding my fingers and lips over his body. Feeling him shudder at every touch, as unusual as a light kiss, inaccessible to his race. Blue clan tattoos appeared not only on the face, but also on the body, crossing the shoulders and chest with strict straight lines. Hot breath burned my skin: Nihlus had had enough of playing with my hair and turned his attention to my back, barely noticeably grabbing the skin with his hard lips. Well, he's doing it... bright, clear feelings intoxicated the head and shattered the remnants of hard-to-maintain self-control...

"My..." a barely audible whisper and hot breath, slowly sliding along the spine. "Ours.".. - the tickling touch of a long tongue.

"Our." Garrus echoed, sitting up abruptly, staring intently at my face. "You know what I mean...

"We are," Nihlus corrected him, eagerly nibbling my neck, barely grabbing the skin with his teeth.

"We will never let you go."

"I'm not going anywhere." I smiled and cupped his face in my hands. "If you don't want to."

"Never..." the heavy combed head leans against my shoulder, Garrus slowly inhales my scent, sliding his hard lips over my neck, almost in sync with Nihlus. "Not in this life, Irene..." sharp teeth grab the skin and easily bite through it, a long tongue licks off the droplets of blood.

"Not in this life..." Nihlus echoes, and another gentle bite...

And I have a growing feeling that I completely do not understand the essence of the action that took place... almost a ritual... important, critically important, which I MUST understand...

The ringing of the instrumentron from Nihlus's hand sounded like a mockery. A barely audible, elusive sound, similar to a growl, and Nihlus, opening his eyes, deployed the interface, looking displeased at the flashing icon.

"Sparatus..." and again that barely audible sound.

There was no desire to blow up and get dressed in a hurry, but you can't ignore it... But I really wanted to...

"Turn it on without video broadcasting." I shrugged my shoulders.

Talon touched the video link icon, turning off the camera, and pressed receive. A window opened above the Turian's forearm, showing Sparatus' darkened office and himself, looking at us with a satisfied face. No. Not like that. LOOKING at us. Nihlus blinked in surprise, the advisor's face became even more malicious. We all looked at the video communication icon. Turned off. The face of Sparatus. Snide, understanding, and smuuug... The counselor understood our pantomime more than correctly, and therefore, instead of greeting and explaining the reason for the call, we heard:

"When a member of the Citadel Council calls, the video link is activated automatically without the permission of the other subscriber."

Nihlus made a muffled gurgle, and Garrus whinnied faintly at the top of my head. Damn it...

"I didn't know." Nihlus sighed.

"Now you know." a snide answer.

Sparatus is definitely bantering! Brazenly, obviously, demonstratively, without even trying to cover up such inappropriate emotions for a member of the Citadel Council. The same for me... I found a personal entertainment... And you're not going to send him! And he knows it perfectly well, which he uses completely shamelessly! My heart feels that we are provided with early calls from the adviser at the most inopportune moments...

Damn it! There's nothing worse than a bored, powerful, imaginative mind... Okay, that's it...

As they say, it's too late to rush around. Sparatus understood our sour faces quite correctly, and therefore finally went directly to the reason for such an unsuccessful call:

"Agents of the Special Task Force reported that Saren Arterius arrived on Feros today."

"On the Lord?" I asked.

"No. An ordinary ship. The Reaper did not appear." sharp gray-green eyes bored into my crumpled face. "Is this news to you?"

"No. We knew that there was a laboratory on Feros, but there was no reason for us to fly there immediately. Benezia did not know that the project was completed or even close to successful completion. His goal is to obtain a Prothean cipher that will help turn the confusing images from the lighthouse into coherent visions. I don't need it. The information has already been analyzed and fully assimilated. I decided not to interfere ahead of time. Maybe they can do it. And Saren shouldn't have been bothered. There will be less twitching, more chances of a successful capture."

Sparatus nodded in agreement, accepting my explanation.

"Apparently, the development was successful. Perhaps you should send a group to Feros with those who should receive this cipher. Just in case."

Sparatus nodded again, quickly calculating something.

"Does your goal not change?"

"No. We're leaving for Vermaer in a couple of hours. Saren will return to his main base anyway. Perhaps we can get into her territory without making too much noise and capture Saren without storming. He would be... inappropriate. The laboratory is protected like a fortress. You can't just take her." Sparatus twitched his mandibles ironically. "Rather, it will work out, but the losses will be unreasonably high. I immediately corrected myself. He has another active buoy. Perhaps the information from it will help to clarify the location of the mu relay."

"Go ahead."

"Advisor Sparatus."

"I'm listening."

"If you're going to send a group to Feros... Let her be well armed and fully protected from biological contamination. There are rumors... They're not good. About a strange creature that can infect and take control." The gray-green eyes narrowed sharply. "The information is unreliable, but it's better not to take unnecessary risks with such things."

"I'll keep that in mind." he told me how he put it, and hung up.

Well all... the end of the Thorian. Sparatus Feros will take it apart to the core, but this shrub will be plucked out and put into action. Or burn it to the last root.

"He reacted calmly." I grumbled. "He just made a joke. And that's very neat and quite tactful."

"We are not the first, we are not the last, caught by him in such a situation." Nihlus shrugged his shoulders. "I myself heard colleagues scoffing." he stammered and confessed: "I didn't know about the specifics of video communication..."

"Apparently, the others didn't know either." Garrus said philosophically.

"Sparatus has been an advisor for a long time and sometimes he is frankly bored. At such moments, the entire Special Corps howls from him. And not just Turian. He was once a Spectrum himself, so the corps knows from the inside like no one else, and he also knows perfectly well how to get Spectr."

"Just out of boredom?" I asked skeptically.

"Rather, so that they don't lose their tone." Nihlus chuckled. "And they didn't relax. If one of the operatives takes off above the atmosphere, they are quickly lowered face-first onto the rocks, setting up non-fatal but humiliating situations."

"Uriah?"

"I suppose so. But it's not clear who she is, Tevos or Sparatus. And it doesn't matter. If he doesn't get the hint the first time, he will repeat it. In a more violent form."

"What if she harms those who are being used as a visual aid?"

"He won't be able to. Such a victim is watched very carefully."

I shook my head, but I didn't feel sorry for the bookmark I'd left.

"I didn't know."

"This is not advertised, but the Council monitors the Spectr very closely. Not for their actions, but for their mental state."

"Then it's all the more unclear how they missed Saren." I whispered.

"Saren could have been gone for years, sending only reports. Nihlus reluctantly admitted. - And when he appeared, he always behaved very restrained, cold and distant. I've always been introverted."

"They didn't keep up..."

"They didn't keep up." and a quiet, barely audible half-moan, half-growl...

Sparatus killed the whole mood to lie around, so we, swearing at the active and bored man, got up and went about our business. While Garrus and Nihlus were finishing cleaning the apartment, I cleaned up and contacted Pressley from the arsenal. The XO reported on the state of affairs, covertly ratted on Rex, who had brought a bunch of incomprehensible junk on board and nobly occupied the hold behind the Mako box, on Tali, who was jostling in the terribly secret engineering compartment and poking her curious nose everywhere. I reassured the XO, promising to deal with my colorful team. According to him, the loading has already been completed, the scheduled inspection is coming to an end, and the crew will return in three hours. Pressley calmed down a bit and switched off. And I dialed the Joker.

The pilot responded without delay. The window swung open, showing his bored face in the familiar surroundings of the control room.

"Rin", The Joker smiled, making it clear that there was no one else in the control room.

"Are you bored?"

"There are a few."

"Figure out the route to Vermaer."

"Omega Watch, the Hawk system?"

"Do you know another Vermaer?" I asked skeptically.

"The pilot laughed merrily. Nihlus looked into the armory, nodding to Jeff."

"The Nihlus spectr." the pilot greeted him.

The Turian chuckled, grinned ironically, which made Jeff pale slightly, and said in a soft, one might even say affectionate voice:

"The Joker..."

"Yes?" the pilot asked suspiciously.

"Thanks for the VERY fascinating reading..." the grin became predatory, the gaze of the green eyes became cold and hard. "I appreciated it."

The Joker abruptly turned pale and... hiccupped. Nihlus snorted a laugh and left the arsenal.

"He... Have you read... everything?" the pilot asked very quietly.

"They've BOTH read your entire joy book."

The Joker closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, exhaled, opened his eyes and stared at me with resignation.

"And they are..."

"They promised not to kill anyone. But I've never seen them so furious. Perhaps you should give the crew a hint that they should hold their tongues if they don't want their tongues pulled out. Literally."

"I get it, Rin," the Joker said seriously.

On this life-affirming note, I switched off. Let him get nervous. Maybe then he'll appreciate the depth of the situation we're in.

Time flew by completely unnoticed. An hour before the deadline, we left the apartment and boarded the Normandy forty minutes later. I just managed to inspect the ship, made sure everything I requested was delivered, received a report from the bataler and the XO, checked on Rex, Tali and Liara. It's all right. Minor unavoidable problems have been eliminated and the ship is ready for a long flight, supplies have been purchased and loaded into warehouses in full accordance with the lists, fuel cells have been delivered with a reserve, weapons are already in the arsenal and put in place by Rex, medicines and devices requested by the doctor have been delivered to the infirmary and mounted under Karin's personal supervision. Benezia sleeps in the infirmary under the supervision of Liara and Karin. The crew is on board, and judging by the apprehensive faces and panicked looks, the Joker has done his educational work successfully and understandably, because the Turians were looked at like nuns at a higher demon, which could not but please them. Considering that they carried edged weapons openly and defiantly, people took the hint and finally shut up.

In the control room, besides Joker, Nihlus was found contentedly in the co-pilot's seat, and both pilots were actively arguing about something. As it turned out, they were dividing who would take the helm. The Joker balked, not wanting to let anyone near his "bird", but Nihlus, smiling slyly, promised that nothing would happen to the ship, and Jeff gave up.

Jeff reported to the port controller, the magnetic grapples moved away, freeing the ship, Nihlus wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel with open pleasure...

And I suddenly noticed a very familiar Turian hurrying out onto the dock...

A little earlier, the Citadel Security Service Corps

"No, well, did you see what he was doing?" An admiring voice drawled, attracting the attention of a Turian officer walking down the corridor. "And he never missed a shot!"

"The younger Vakarian was always a great shot." The vibrating voice agreed. "How many did he put in?"

"It's about thirty-seven." the man replied.

"Are you sure? Garrus was barely standing!" The Turian asked skeptically.

"I've seen the camera footage! Vakarian is something! Drunk as shit, barely standing on his feet, but not a single slip. Right in the head."

"It's a pity that he left."

"That yes... Our best sniper. True, he had made a lot of enemies during his service."

"With his character and worldview, it's not surprising. How did he not get shot then?"

"So his two Spectra covered up." The man objected with a slight envy in his voice. "The corpses were taken from the Market half the night. They say seven more died in the hospital, and five are unlikely to live until the evening."

"Yes, I heard. One of them had his belly ripped open, so he didn't die right away."

"It was Krayk who petted him so much. The rest died on the spot. He sprawled like a fish, and no shields helped. Guys still swear when they remember. They had to collect it all. And there's blood, guts, and shit all over the floor..."

"Yes, this one can." The Turian agreed. "The sword goes through the shields, but Krayk has never disdained close combat. He's ruined too many biotics like that..."

"Did you know that he turns out to be a biotic himself?"

"Krayk something? It can't be!"

"Take a look for yourself!"

The Turian with the blue birth tattoos woke up from his stupor, abruptly turned around and quickly walked back, almost breaking into a run.

The corridors, familiar to the last spot on the walls, flashed past his consciousness, he stopped in front of a single door at the end, touched the call button. There was a short pause, and a calm voice asked:

"Who!"

"Kirrus Vakarian."

A short pause and a little tired:

"Come in."

"The door slid open, allowing Vakarian Sr. to enter the office of the C-SEC director."

Pallin took one look at his subordinate. Sighing wearily, he asked:

"Have you found out yet?" In response, a short nod.

"What has my son gotten himself into?"

"He got involved in the Special Corps." Pallin suddenly replied angrily. "Did you know that he worked on the Saren Arterius case?"

"I know. He didn't find anything."

"That's understandable." Pallin growled. "After the Council meeting, he ran into the Commander of the Alliance Air Force, Irene Shepard. The two of them did in a couple of hours what he had failed to do in a decade: they found evidence. Shepard received the status of a Spectrum and the task of finding and returning Arterius. They got drunk that night, and the next morning I got a letter of resignation from your son and a transfer report to the Spectrum Council task force. After that, Garrus flew off to an unknown destination. Since then, he has appeared on the Citadel twice. Always in the company of Shepard and Kgauka."

"Nihlus Krayk? Saren's student?"

"Yes. Each of their returns follows the same scenario: reporting to the Council and drinking with a bunch of corpses. Last time, they shot down two dozen local scumbags in the Lower Town and managed to get out of the station before Councilor Sparatus received this information." Pallin rubbed his comb tiredly, frowning at his officer. "You didn't know?"

"No. Garrus... avoids communication."

Venari sighed. The conflict between the senior and junior Vakarians in C-SEC was no secret to anyone. Their hide-and-seek has been going on for three years: the eldest is trying to catch his son, and the youngest is avoiding his father with a skill worthy of the best use. Until he ran away so that it became impossible to get him.

"How many did he kill this time?"

"Thirty seven. Shot in the head. And one with his throat slit."

"The reason?"

"Self-defense. You know how your son is treated in the Lower City."

Kirrus clenched his fists.

"I know. The consequences?"

"No."

Vakarian blinked in surprise.

"Does the advisor know about this?"

"Knows."

"And what did he do?"

"He made your son a Spectre!" Venari Pallin exploded.

Kirrus Vakarian was petrified.

"When?"

"This morning, at the initiative of Councilor Sparatus, a new Council Spectrum was appointed. Garrus Vakarian. The curator is Nihlus Krayk." The C-SEC director said, looking into his subordinate's confused light blue eyes. "Did I warn you that sooner or later this would happen? I warned you! The Special Corps looked after your son for six years, but did not touch him, respecting your decision. The massacre in the Markets of the Lower City and the demand to initiate an investigation and charge Garrus Vakarian was a good reason for Sparatus to step in and get what he wanted."

"Where is Garrus now?"

Pallin looked sharply at his kinsman.

"You know Garrus sold his apartment, right?"

"know".

"It's a wise decision. They would have blown it up anyway."

Kirrus nodded.

"Where could he be?"

"Look for her on Shepard's ship or at Kgayk's. Shepard, like your son, has no home on the Citadel. If they can be anywhere, it's only Nihlus. Or on a ship."

"What kind of ship?"

"The frigate Normandy. Transferred to the Spectr Alliance MSF by Irene Shepard. There is a Special Corps at the port now. Berthing area 7-9834-38. - short pause. - And Kirrus. The Normandy is leaving the station today."

The man stood up.

"I advise you to hurry. As far as I know, the loading of this ship ended a couple of hours ago."

Kirrus silently turned around and left the office. Pallin sighed heavily, wearily rubbed his comb and aching temples, frowning at the closed door.

For the first time, the terrifyingly slow elevator caused wild irritation, exhausting nerves to the music that was disgusting to sensitive ears. Kirrus Vakarian stood motionless, staring hard at the door. His thoughts automatically returned to the long-ago conversation that had formed an abyss between him and his son. What should he have conceded? Then why did he resist again? For what? Why all these laws, rules and traditions if the only son silently turned around and disappeared from his life? For three years he's been trying to meet with him and just talk... explain... but Garrus disappeared time after time, avoiding even a fleeting encounter with amazing tenacity.

The elevator stopped, the doors slowly slid open, and Cyrus heard a distinctive hiss and a booming pop as the magnetic grips moved away from the ship's hull. The doors finally swung open and he literally flew out onto the wide berthing area to see how the elegant silver-black ship, engines blazing, gracefully turns around in place, violating all possible rules, and slowly rotating, arcs away into outer space, leaving a beautiful smooth spiral of engine tracks behind.

Kirrus clenched his fists. The claws tore through the skin. Dark blue blood dripped from his fist and broke powerlessly on the metal of the dock.

He was too late.

Chapter 28: Vermire: Arrival

The ship exited the stage with a noticeable and already familiar jolt, shaking the entire hull. The Normandy has arrived at the Hawk system. It's a three-hour flight to Vermaer.

"Captain, we're out of relay." The Joker's calm voice rang out.

"Turn on the camouflage system and approach Vermire." I replied. "Are there any signs of the Lord's presence?"

"Not at all."

"Get into orbit." I turned to the surprisingly quiet and accommodating people on the command deck. "Take a picture of the surface on the coast of the Astika Sea. From this moment until our return, to remain completely silent."

There is a blissful silence in response. Not a single peep, not even an unnecessary glance. Everyone has their faces buried in terminals and is plowing for the benefit of their dear superiors. Me. Pressley stands almost at attention. After taking a look at the tense crowd, I left, giving them the opportunity to relax a little and get to work without looking at my person. That's what a warning, properly understood and communicated to them in an accessible form, does to people. All I had to do was make it clear that I wasn't joking for a moment when I honestly warned: one word of slander or any attempt to bully the special forces soldiers, and whoever did it would fly out the airlock to row home on their own.

Two days ago

A bright rage bordering on bloody rage pulled me out of a mental trance, tearing me away from my hard work. Who's in such a good mood? Nihlus? No... Garrus? Exactly. Damn it, did someone say something again? Yes, as much as you can! Are they completely fucked up there?

"Joker, what just happened?"

There was a brief moment of silence, and the pilot's apprehensive voice answered:

"Rin... You need to see for yourself..."

Damn them...

"I'll take a look. Where?"

"Canteen."

Thanking the pilot, I got up and, swaying slightly with fatigue, trudged into the dining room. The wave of emotions grew, colored by interesting details. By the time I entered the room I was looking for, the atmosphere there was stormy.

The doors swung open without a sound. I went into the dining room, having managed to hear the end of the sentence:

"...knows what you're doing there."

Oh, how interesting... I was noticed almost instantly. The people shut up, and I looked at this composition: an enraged Garrus, whose hand was trembling dangerously close to the pistol he had always carried with him lately, and a group of seven guys from the operators of the navigation and sensor complex. The axis of the Turian's rage was Addison Chase.

"What. Here. Is it happening?" I asked in a measured voice, typing every word.

A minute of silence. Garrus tries to calm down, even though his fingers are getting closer and closer to the hilt.

"Garrus, get your hand off the gun." The guy flinched, but took his hand away. "I know that you will have time to shoot them before they come out of their stupor. But this is my crew..." The Turian shuddered, and the people relaxed, "and I will train them." - now the guys tensed up, and the Turian chuckled. "Since they didn't learn anything at the Academy."

Only a deaf person would not have heard the threat in my voice. Garrus nodded in agreement, crossed his arms over his chest, making it look like he was washing his hands. That's lovely.

"I'm asking for the last time. What. Here. happened?"

"Captain, we disagree with yours... a fighter." Chase informed me, very emphatically singling out "fighter" in an extremely obscene voice.

"I raised an eyebrow. A small-grass bastard..."

"That's how? And in what opinion did you disagree with the Council's Spectr, Garrus Vakarian?"

"Oh, why are you so emotional? Didn't you know, boys?"

Of course they didn't! It's a surprise, isn't it? Garrus snorted.

"The spectr of Advice?" asked the tall man, who had been watching the whole conflict from behind the distribution table.

"Taks Carlton, if my sclerosis doesn't let me down."

"Unexpected, isn't it?" the guys recoiled from my kind look. "Don't make me repeat the question and answer it in detail, otherwise I will find out the answer from the Joker. And I'll get it, won't I?"

"Undoubtedly, Captain!" Jeff replied immediately.

"I'm listening to you very carefully."

"We... they doubted... in..." the guy swallowed, but he couldn't tell me the gossip.

I caught the fierce light blue gaze, easily reading the vivid last memory, and anger took my breath away. Is that what it means? How amazing are the things that can be done under a long-suffering all-terrain vehicle...

"Joker, record the rest of the conversation."

"Yes, Captain."

I turned my gaze to the people who had turned pale.

"Have you been warned to whom you are being placed at the disposal of this ship?" I asked the question dispassionately, feeling my fingers tremble, and the tips tingle from the energy concentrating on them.

There were simultaneous nods in response.

"Answer me!"

"Yes, ma'am."

"What do you mean, "Yes, ma'am"? Are you unable to answer a simple question?"

"you, Spectr Shepard." they barked simultaneously in seven sips.

How sweet... It would be better if they were doing their work with the same enthusiasm, and not poisoning my nerves.

"Do you know who the Spectr are?"

"Special Tactical Intelligence Corps operatives, ma'am!"

"Do you know what rights we have?"

"Unlimited, ma'am!"

"Do you know what tasks the Council Spectr's solve?"

"Tasks that threaten the peace and stability of the Galaxy, ma'am!"

"Fine... At least something was hammered into your heads during the briefing." I chuckled, staring at the seven idiots. "There are THREE active members of the Spectr's Cansil on board the Normandy, performing the same task. Anyone sane and reasonable, using their head for its intended purpose, could have guessed that this task has an EXTREMELY high priority, since they sent not one Spectre, as usual, but three."

People exchanged glances.

"And knowing this, are you deliberately violating my orders, sabotaging our mission, and distracting me from my tedious, exhausting, and extremely painstaking work by spreading dirty gossip, provoking conflicts with my colleagues and members of my group? You're jeopardizing our mission."

These idiots squinted at my haggard face and the circles under my eyes and... flashed with outright fear.

"I'm sorry, ma'am... We didn't know."

"You weren't supposed to know." The temperature of my voice was rapidly approaching cosmic. "You must do your job on board this ship in silence and not interfere with our work!"

In response - understanding, fear, close to panic. And not a shadow of remorse. How sweet...

"Did I warn you, what would be the consequences if I heard even one more idle gossip or provocation of racial conflict?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"Did I warn you not to bully my colleagues and special forces soldiers?"

"Yes, ma'am!"

"It's great that you all knew everything. Have I warned you, what will be the punishment for those who do not heed my warnings?"

"Yes, ma'am..."

But now there was a full awareness and understanding of the situation on their faces. And - fear. No, it's not like that. Horror. Didn't you believe it? And completely... for nothing.

It wasn't difficult or troublesome for me to take control of the seven sentients. Blocking their vocal cords, I silently left the dining room, followed by twitching bodies, frantically shuffling their legs and gushing with panic. Nihlus came out to this intensity of emotions, watching the execution with interest. Everyone was watching with interest: the crew members, the XO, the Joker. Passing by Pressley, who was about to open his mouth, I shut him up with one look. I must have had an expressive face, because not a single sound came out.

The first airlock door opened with a barely audible hiss. I pushed seven idiots in. The door slid back into place.

"Joker, start the airlock depressurization process according to the E-189 protocol."

"Captain?" the pilot asked, still unable to believe the order he had given.

"Don't make me repeat myself."

"Yes... captain."

People were shocked to see the depressurization process according to the protocol I set. It's a slow, nerve-racking process. The E-189 protocol involved pumping out air, opening the outer flap of the airlock and blowing out the contents. It takes about twenty seconds if you open the outer flap. If you don't open it, the air just drains out. The latter option is used when the ship is moving between relays, when it is not recommended to violate the integrity of the hull. That's how it is now.

I let go of control of the seven people, but the massive door completely muffled the sounds. But the camera in the airlock allowed everyone to watch as the air was drained, as panicked people began to suffocate, and as they sank lifelessly onto the metal floor.

"The Joker. Abort the protocol. Open the internal gateway."

"Yes, Captain." the pilot sighed with relief.

You shouldn't be happy. Technically, they're dead. If Karin doesn't pump it out, they'll die completely, and there's not much time. I looked around at the numb sentients and coldly explained:

"The protocol will not be interrupted next time."

After examining the silent people and motionless bodies that were already being taken out of the airlock, I turned around and went to the infirmary. I hope this warning is understood correctly, otherwise next time I really won't stop the depressurization procedure. And it will happen much faster and without unnecessary special effects according to the standard protocol, where the doors open almost instantly, and all the excess from the airlock chamber is swept into space at a pressure drop.

When I returned to the infirmary, Karin was already conjuring over the bodies of idiots.

"You're adding to my work." she said with a slight hint of displeasure.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"In an amicable way, they should have just been thrown into space. But you should not open the external gateway during the transfer unless absolutely necessary."

Karin gave me a hard look.

"I can't say that I support such drastic methods. I'm a doctor. My job is to save lives. There are enough people on this ship who take them away." The doctor sighed. "But I can't help but admit it. The situation has gone too far. People relaxed without feeling the hard hand. You're almost constantly absent, disappearing into the infirmary or your cabin. There are young people in the crew. You are a young and beautiful woman, Irene. They don't see you as a direct guide and don't understand that you can be dangerous and cruel."

"I noticed that. They've also heard enough of the Alliance's propaganda and are ready to prove to everyone and everyone how great and cool people are." I shook my head wearily. "And this is despite the fact that humanity entered the galactic arena barely thirty years ago."

"You spend a lot of time in the company of non-humans. Especially the Turians. They don't like it."

Karin's slight smile made it clear to me that my relationship with Nihlus and Garrus was no secret to the doctor. I shrugged my shoulders.

"My personal preferences are my personal preferences. And I am deeply indifferent to the trampled feelings of those who are not part of mine... at least the middle circle. But someone forgot that Turians are raised a little differently. For Garrus and Nihlus, the words "honor" and "dignity" are not empty words. Do you understand HOW it could all end?"

"The massacre."

"Exactly. And no one in the entire Citadel would have convicted them of murder. Even without looking at the status of the Spectr."

"This could cause a conflict with the Alliance."

"Karin, what kind of conflict are we talking about?" I grimaced. "The Alliance will never decide on a direct armed conflict. If the Council hadn't vetoed the invasion, the Hierarchy would have split up the Alliance and bombed humanity into the Stone Age, despite all the heroism of some people. They only have a regular fleet seven times bigger. This is not counting the fact that war is natural for Turians and is an integral part of the culture."

"Irene, this generation grew up with stories about the First Contact War."

"To call a War with a capital letter an ordinary two-month border skirmish in which six hundred and twenty-three people died is at least... strange. I snorted. - Yes, during the explosion of ships over inhabited planets and exposure to the zero element, hundreds of times more died. Just some kids. And people did it. So we shouldn't talk about the value of human life, since we don't value it ourselves."

Karin couldn't find anything to object.

"Logic and common sense are not always characteristic of young people."

"I noticed that they don't have brains." I shook my head, watching Karin work. "You know that I'm considered a sick scumbag in the service, right? Such a human version of Saren Arterius in a feminine manner."

"I heard." Karin replied, without even turning her head, bending over the body, which was still not showing signs of life.

"Karin. I am an orphan who grew up on the streets of the megacities of the Earth, and I don't really like people. No problem. There's nothing keeping me in the Alliance. Generally. The command knows this very well, but I have never given any reason to doubt my loyalty to my immediate commander."

"And now?" Karian was distracted and looked up at me intently.

"And now it's the Citadel Council. The Alliance voluntarily gave me over for its own political reasons. I am excluded from the list of military personnel."

"And?"

"I am loyal to my immediate superiors." I replied dryly, staring intently into Karin's widened eyes.

"The Citadel Council?"

"Yes. My loyalty now belongs to them."

Karin looked at me in shock. Is that unexpected? But this is understandable to any reasonable person who knows what my recipient was like. Irene was really loyal to her superiors... and every time it changed, her loyalty was transferred to a new object. The last one was Captain Anderson.

"And you don't have any attachments in the Alliance?" I looked skeptically at this seemingly intelligent woman.

"No."

"I did not know."

I shrugged my shoulders. The ruthlessness of the original Irene had a very specific and simple explanation: indifference. She was deeply indifferent to the opinions and lives of those around her, except for a very narrow circle of reasonable people, which included her immediate commander, her squad, and, partially, her direct entourage like the ship's crew. It wasn't cruelty. Simple efficiency and complete indifference. The task must be completed at all costs. Point. That's all the interests of this beautiful red-haired girl. A perfect example of the social adaptation of an orphan with a difficult childhood, who grew up on the streets and joined the army at the age of eighteen out of desperation. And then the psyche broke down completely, giving birth to such a lovely creature.

What can I say if the brightest moments in her life after school were the commendations of the commander for successfully and flawlessly completed missions.

"I'm sorry, Irene."

I waved it away.

"Not worth it. My life started all over again after Eden Prime. You know, the lighthouse really shook my brain. When you watch the death of an alien civilization over and over again, with all the emotions and feelings of the one who recorded these paintings... it is impossible to remain indifferent. I can't see them as strangers. The soul of that unknown protean hurt the same way as a human. Rage, powerlessness, horror, pain... Feelings, Karin, they are universal. The soul has no race. I still can't forget the pain that the Protean felt when looking at his burning homeworld."

Karin said nothing, absorbed in her work. But I knew she'd heard me. Emotions never lie. Even a thought may lie, but feelings never do. And now Karin was rethinking... a lot of things.

"We don't just wander around the galaxy. We have a mission. A mission that Irene would do anything to complete. If we fail, no one will survive. Neither Turians, nor Asari, nor Salarians, nor Vorka, nor humans, nor Batarians... nobody. We will repeat the fate of the Protheans. And then OUR worlds will burn." Karin jerked and looked at me in surprise. Unable to find a hint of a joke, the doctor frowned. "The enemy is millions of years old. Do you understand WHAT kind of enemy this is? We are saving the galaxy without any jokes or exaggerations. Along with the Alliance, by the way, from which there is no real help and a lot of problems."

"They gave me the Normandy."

"The council has prepared a ship for me. The spectrum is ALWAYS provided by a personal ship immediately after the appointment. Nihlus said that a corvette designed for fifteen sentients was waiting for me in the hangar at the Citadel if for some reason I refused this ship. It's exactly the same as Garrus' and Nihlus' own." I chuckled. "Karin. I don'T need the Normandy. I'm just showing respect for people by continuing to mess with the ship and its troubled crew. No more than that."

Karin thought about it, and I returned to the matriarch, who was sitting listlessly on a cot in the corner of the infirmary farthest from the door, hidden from prying eyes by a raised screen. It's time to finish with the drill. At my command, the matriarch opened her sightless eyes, and I slipped into her mind.

Charles Pressley is a hereditary military man. He spent his entire adult life pursuing a military career, and fulfilled his childhood dream of deep space by joining the armed forces immediately after graduating from high school and serving on spaceships. His current duty station was perceived by him as a great opportunity to see the galaxy and the races inhabiting it, to serve Humanity and represent its interests, albeit as the navigator of an experimental ship. Recent events and the new captain had somewhat unsettled him: the aliens on board were not happy, but he had come to terms with their presence, as well as with some of the captain's oddities.

Of course, he had read the characterization of Irene Shepard, but the dry facts about her unparalleled cruelty did not want to fit into his mind: Charles saw a young, very beautiful woman with bright green eyes and an unusual color of fiery red, almost red hair. The captain seemed to him to be a somewhat naive, cheerful woman, caring about her people and ... not people, with a violent temper and a bright character. He never saw any correspondence with what was written in her dossier. Until today. The demonstrative execution, actually brought to a logical conclusion, for a moment revealed to the senior officer a completely different face of his captain. And the fact that she interrupted the depressurization process did not at all smooth out her words and actions. The people in the airlock had suffocated and were now in intensive care in the infirmary.

The XO waited until the end of the watch, fortunately, there were only twenty minutes left before it, and went to someone who could give him answers to questions: to the pilot. The Joker noticed him right away:

"Senior assistant."

"Joker, I'd like to know the reason for today's incident."

The pilot hesitated.

"There's been a conflict between the crew and the Council Spectr, sir."

"On what grounds."

The Joker turned around, looked closely at Charles, and then simply handed him the datapad.

"This was collected by me in the last two weeks."

"What's here?"

"Gossip, sir. The crew."

Charles turned on the datapad and immersed himself in reading. Each entry was dated, indicating who had said it to whom. Charles read to the end, read the last entry from today twice, turned off the device and returned it to the Joker.

"Did the captain see that?"

"Yes, sir. Even before the last visit to the Citadel." The pilot hesitated. "The Turians saw it too."

Pressley flinched.

"Did they read it?"

"Yes."

For the first time, Charles couldn't find a decent answer.

"Why are they..."

"The captain was able to convince them not to touch the crew."

"Thank you, Mr. Moreau."

Joker nodded, and Pressley left the control room. Walking along the deck of the ship, he wondered how he himself would react to such an insult. He wasn't too pleased with the answer... The Turians showed amazing restraint and self-control, and the captain showed eloquence if she convinced the proud creatures not to bring the matter to blood. After thinking about it, the XO entered the elevator and went to the hold.

The Turians were indeed in the hold: the Spectr's were fighting. Sparring in full contact, without restraining strength, without sparing the opponent, using everything, even the dirtiest techniques for the sake of victory. Ashley and Kayden watched the fight with interest, Krogan sat a little to the side, bringing his shotgun to an unattainable ideal, keeping half an eye on the fighters. Pressley stopped at the elevator. It was the first time he had seen such a fight, although he had often heard that Turians and Krogan often fought in the hold.

The fight ended unexpectedly: both Turians froze, as if the fierce, swift, barely noticeable blows had not been there just moments ago. The reason turned out to be simple: the claws of Nihlus Kgauk froze on the opponent's neck dangerously close to the artery. Long, deep scratches had already filled with blood on Vakarian's neck, but Krayk was not without consequences either: deep lacerations from missed blows could be seen on his forearm and shoulders.

"You're distracted again." Krayk approached the ROVER, picked up the panacelin ointment from its side and threw one jar to his kinsman.

"I know." The sniper calmly unscrewed the lid, scooped up the ointment and applied it to the deep scratches. "Shooting gallery?"

Krayk gave his kinsman a long look.

"To compete with you in shooting is to be an idiot. You can't even miss when you're drunk."

In response, Vakarian snorted, picked up his visor and put it on his head.

"How long are you going to remind me of the Markets?"

"For a long time!" Krayk laughed. "Not everyone can make thirty-six corpses with a hole in their head while barely standing on their feet! I even got a recording from Sparatus."

"And he gave it?"

"Otherwise! I'll show Rin, let her be happy."

"Will you show us?" Ashley asked suddenly.

Nihlus blinked in surprise, and then shrugged his shoulders.

"And why not? I'll show you."

Garrus Vakarian snorted, shook his head in displeasure, and then noticed Pressley standing in the shadows.

"Senior assistant?"

"Spektr," Pressley came closer. "The reasons for today's incident have become known to me."

Garrus tensed at first, and then just waved his hand. Totally human. With a slight irritation.

"I want to apologize to you for the behavior of the crew."

The Turian suddenly turned abruptly, raising his hand, interrupting Charles.

"You have nothing to apologize for. You have not tarnished your honor in any way." Not by word or action. Garrus said calmly, gazing intently into the face of the man who was taken aback by such words with bright, intelligent light blue eyes. "I don't want to see you humiliated by young idiots who don't deserve such a sacrifice."

"I consider myself responsible for the behavior of the crew." Charles objected.

"In that case, you should tighten your grip on their throats if you want to save their lives. Otherwise, Irene will do it."

Pressley nodded. At this time, Nihlus Krayk sat down on a box next to Ashley and Kayden, who were leaning forward with interest. The instrumentron's interface lit up, the Turian selected the desired file and launched it. A hologram unfolded over his wrist, and people watched with interest and growing dumbfounded as three drunken fighters knocked out the attackers.

"They love you in the Lower Town. Look, they ran away as soon as there was a real chance to kill you." Nihlus grunted. "And that's where you almost got shot."

"See." Garrus grimaced. "It could have worked cleaner. And be the first to remove the fighters with shotguns and rifles. This one and these ones." A clawed finger touched the figures falling to the virtual floor.

"Haven't you forgotten? You were totally drunk."

"So what? I haven't lost my brain..." The Turian shrugged his shoulders. "Is this the first time?"

The recording ended when a Batarian fell to the floor, unsuccessfully trying to hold his open stomach with his hands.

"Why should he be stabbed with a sword?"

"There is no armor, but the shields are combat." Krayk shrugged his shoulders. "If you lose your gun, he'll put a shotgun charge in your stomach three times."

The intercom clicked, and Karin's voice said:

"The Vacarian spectrum. The Krayk spectrum."

"We're listening, Doctor." Nihlus replied

"Go up to the infirmary."

"Something happened?"

A short pause and a reply:

"Perhaps the captain will listen to you and take a break from work. Otherwise, I'll have to go to extreme measures and use a tranquilizer."

The Turians exchanged glances.

"We'll be right there."

The connection is gone. The Turians got up almost simultaneously and went to the elevator. The XO thought about it and stepped into the elevator after them.

In the infirmary, a nervous Karin was already waiting for them, frowning at Irene, who was sitting on the bed, clutching her nose with a piece of cloth already stained with blood. The captain looked terrifying: pale, almost transparent skin, through which blue veins could be seen, dark circles under her eyes, a slight tremor in her hands and a tired look in her dull and darkened green eyes. It was the first time Charles had seen the captain in such a state.

"Captain, what's the matter with you?"

Irene looked up at the first mate, blinked a little in surprise, but answered in a hoarse voice:

"Slight exhaustion. Nothing fatal."

Karin frowned.

"Irene, I want to remind you that I forbade putting such loads on the body last time! Nihlus, Garrus, escort your colleague to the cabin and make sure that she does not leave it for the next twenty-four hours! Irene must sleep! No operation planning! Sleep!"

Nihlus chuckled.

"Of course, Karin."

"It's unnecessary." Irene muttered, getting to her feet. "I'm quite capable of walking to my cabin on my own."

But as soon as the captain took a step, her legs buckled, and Shepard almost fell, caught in time by the Turian.

"I see you walking on your own." Nihlus effortlessly lifted the sluggishly resisting woman into his arms, looking disapprovingly at the blood flowing through her nose. "Karin, how long has she been sitting here?"

"Five hours before... this incident. And since then."

"Garrus..."

"I understood. I'll bring it to the cabin." Vakarian turned around and left.

Pressley looked at what was happening with a degree of incomprehension. How did the captain manage to bring herself to such a state?

"Dr. Chakwas. What's going on with the captain?"

The Doctor pursed her lips in displeasure.

"Irene is too responsible for her work and does not take care of herself at all. I have to influence her through her colleagues, since she won't listen to me!" The doctor's eyes shifted to the Turian. "Spectr Krayk, why are you still here? Your connivance may cost the captain not only his health, but also his life!"

"I got it, I'll fix it." He chuckled. "Don't worry, Karin, we'll make sure that Irene eats and goes to bed." He turned around and walked out of the infirmary.

Pressley didn't ask any unnecessary questions, just left the infirmary, frowning at the Turian walking ahead. The gossip I'd read came back to me. From the outside, such a picture could indeed be interpreted rather ambiguously.

"Pressley..." The captain's quiet voice rang out unexpectedly.

"captain?"

"I will be absent by... for technical reasons, about a day." Shepard whispered in a hoarse voice. "Take command of the Normandy until we return from Vermaire."

"That won't be necessary, Captain."

"There is. We will be away indefinitely. At least three days. If there are any problems, you will have to replace me for two or three weeks. If there are any problems, you will have to replace me for two or three weeks. In case of ANY problems, please contact Advisor Sparatus directly."

"I get it, Captain. It will be executed."

Irene nodded and closed her eyes wearily.

"Get some rest, Shepard. I hope I won't see you like this again." Unable to resist, the XO said.

The woman laughed softly.

"I can't promise."

Charles saluted, turned around and left. He has a lot to think about.

The XO's thoughtful face gave me hope that Pressley would take over the training of the crew, and I wouldn't have to take extreme measures. It's enough that Karin hasn't been able to pump out one jerk. I personally didn't care about them and was more of a nuisance, but right now I couldn't give up on the Normandy, even though the Turian corvette was actually waiting for me in the hangar at the Citadel and was much more convenient.

It makes no sense to change unimportant details if I have global interventions in the event chain ahead of me. Yes, reality is already acquiring some plasticity, but still, you should not tempt Fate in small things. So... I'm going for a ride on the Normandy. It's enough to know that an as-yet unnamed alternative is honestly waiting for me on the Citadel, as is its exact replica, Garrus. As Nihlus said, it was not difficult for the Council to order a hundred or two comfortable small warships at the Hierarch shipyards, and for the Turians to build and equip them, taking into account the specifics of the future owner's work.

Nihlus carried me into the cabin and sat me down on the bed, and he squatted down, staring intently at my face. Just a moment later, the usual jammer appeared on the bedside shelf.

"Will it always be like this?"

A clawed hand gently slid across his cheek.

"No, of course not." I smiled and rubbed my cheek against his palm. "Only until the final unfolding of the aura and initiation. She's coming soon, just a couple of hours left. The body cannot cope with the production and processing of the required amount of energy, the power and energy structure is weak and cannot pump such volumes. So I don't look my best. But such loads are useful: they accelerate the restructuring and bring initiation closer."

"Tonight, then?"

"Right. At the same time, I will find out what will take root in this reality and will be available for use. Right now, I can't even use mentalism with all my might. It's just that the body can't stand it."

Nihlus nodded slowly.

"I've been meaning to ask for a long time. Why did my biotics activate? I don't have an implant."

"This is the result of constantly staying within the boundaries of my personal space. Your nervous and energy systems are developing rapidly now, just like Garrus'. This effect will disappear after initiation: I will curtail my aura and stop influencing others. If I don't want to."

Nihlus nodded slowly.

"But it's for the two of you... not particularly relevant."

"Why?"

"Because of... the specifics of our relationship. I purred."

The doors swung open, allowing Garrus to enter my cabin with a tray filled with food containers, and immediately closed, the indicator changed color to red.

"Why so much?" I still haven't been able to eat. Garrus said nonchalantly, placing the tray on the bed. "Nihlus, as far as I know, you didn't make it either?"

"No, thank you."

Garrus nodded, handing me a bulky container on a small tray.

"Eat up."

I took the tray from his hands, sat up, and kissed Garrus, who was purring contentedly, on the neck. I know he likes it.

"I think Garrus will be interested in listening too." Nihlus said reasonably, removing the lid.

"About?"

"My biotics and changes in the body." Nihlus retold what he had said earlier to his kinsman in a few words, and Garrus only nodded slowly at this.

"So why don't we get involved in your initiation?"

"Yes, everything is very simple. During... in proximity, the energy of the partners merges, increases abruptly and divides in proportion to the capacity of the reserve. Yes, everything is very simple. During... in proximity, the energy of the partners merges, increases abruptly and divides in proportion to the capacity of the reserve. My energy volume exceeds yours. Repeatedly. It's not for nothing that sex is always and in almost all worlds considered the easiest and most natural way to solve the problems of exhaustion in any more or less energetically developed race. Only sacrifice is more effective. Quickly, efficiently, with minimal losses in the background. And the consent of the second participant is absolutely not required.

"And in our world too?"

"In any case. The ritual takes place within the boundaries of the aura of the sacrificer, and the presence or absence of external energy will not affect the result in any way. However, there are such rituals... They are not very pleasant, and they are used only as a last resort by normal reasonable people. It's too bloody, cruel, and unsightly."

"Do you know such rituals?"

"I know." I shrugged my shoulders. "But I prefer not to use it. They leave imprints on the aura that don't go away for a very long time."

"The consequences?"

"Unpleasant ones. Tell... Not now, okay?"

They did not insist. Nihlus decided to get off the unpleasant topic and asked:

"What should we do during your initiation?"

"Nothing. Just stay close and don't be surprised by anything." I picked up something that looked like a mushroom and popped it into my mouth. "There is a high probability that I will dump excess energy on you, if there are any. In an amicable way, it would be better to hold such meetings... things are not on a spaceship, but on a planet. Less chance of ruining something."

"Is the splash big?"

"Like when. It's impossible to predict. There are too many variables."

"What's the threat?"

"Energy gluttony. Maybe regeneration will accelerate a bit until the excess vital energy dissipates."

Garrus frowned at the nearly full container in my hands.

"Eat up."

I didn't argue and started eating. Sebastian cooks just great, even though I don't understand how he can make a delicious dish that is inedible to him. But somehow he did it! Lately, I've generally switched mainly to dextro products, since the XO saved on regular ones, and the normal meat and vegetables were only right-acidic.

Garrus removed the empty containers and put them on the table, and then they undressed me and put me to bed. You're going to sleep now. - Nihlus lay down next to me, moved a little, giving me the opportunity to comfortably settle on his shoulder.

"And you?"

"And we'll find something to do." Garrus answered me, settling down on the other side and wrapping his arms around my waist. "Sleep."

And I really fell asleep quickly, warmed up between two men. Garrus gently and carefully stroked my head, which only accelerated the process.

The initiation took place at night, and I didn't even wake up. There was no release: the excess energy was distributed among the sleeping Turians and was used by their bodies to treat old injuries and minor sores, and the remnants were absorbed by Normandy, forming their own vital aura. So I was totally worried for nothing.

I was the first to wake up, and for a while I could watch Nihlus sleeping. Garrus sniffed at the top of my head, snorting softly when my hair got into my nose. The analysis of the body's condition showed pretty good results: the body and energy structure have completely returned to the standard I am used to, and NOW I can call myself a true metamorph. I've got everything I can use in this reality... and it's a pity that almost all magical gifts are unavailable. The energy saturation of this reality is too low, and it will not change until the universe begins to develop independently and receives nourishment from the Primordial Foundation. It's a pity, of course, but not critical. I am glad that the spatial pocket feels normal, and you can already use it. At the same time, it's worth considering what you should take with you... in the next life...

My small movements woke up the light-sleeping Turians. Garrus was the first to wake up, and just a few moments later, Nihlus. And the first question:

"How was the initiation?"

"Fine."

The green eyes carefully examined my face, noting the changed appearance.

"I see the dream has done you good."

"Undoubtedly."

Garrus propped himself up on one elbow and easily rolled me onto my back.

"I think it's time to get up and please Karin with your healthy appearance." A clawed finger slid across his cheek.

"Turn off the jammer."

Nihlus sat up and turned off the device.

"Joker, can you hear me?"

"Should I?" the pilot asked cautiously, responding almost instantly.

"Need." I smiled.

"Then I hear it."

Garrus let out a muffled laugh, which could not escape the attentive and bored Jeff.

"Vakarian. I heard everything!"

"Also tell me that you see everything." Garrus said sarcastically.

"If I say that, Irene will kill me." Joker complained to the Turian. "Of course, I can see everything! When Krayk is not jamming the equipment in the cabin."

"That's why I'm silencing you, because you can see everything." Nihlus grinned, getting off the bed easily.

The Joker muttered something displeased, and we laughed. Still, getting mad at an overly curious pilot just didn't work out. I clearly knew that everything he saw would go no further than him, and nothing more... He won't say too much.

"How long is it before exiting the stage?" I asked.

"Thirty-five hours. And four more superlight flights to Vermaer under its own power."

"Thank you." a short pause. "And the Joker... You'd better not peek right now."

"I understood." the pilot said complaisantly and switched off.

Karin didn't appreciate my appearance in the infirmary. Silently, without talking or warning, a tranquilizer dart flew at me. I did not demonstrate my insensitivity to the drug and smoothly slid into the arms of Nihlus, who was taken aback by such a greeting.

"Did I warn you not to let her out of the cabin for twenty-four hours?" Karin asked dryly, tossing another dart in her palm.

"I warned you." Nihlus agreed, intercepting my conditionally insensitive carcass and lifting it in his arms.

"Why did you let her go out?"

"Is it possible to keep it?" Garrus asked skeptically, looking with interest at my completely awake face, fortunately, Nihlus held me so that Karin could not see my face.

"It is possible if you try and find the right ways of influencing. Now bring her back."

Three crew members undergoing a standard medical checkup and Liara, sitting next to her sleeping mother, watched the whole circus with deep dumbfoundness.

"Isn't it too radical?" Garrus asked cautiously, squinting at my twitching face.

"Radically - if you lie down next to him." Karin said dryly, showing off darts with tranquilizers for dextro organisms. "And sleep in the infirmary until the relay exits the destination system. Don't force me to take extreme measures against you, and get rid of your full-contact sparring."

Garrus raised his hands in a human gesture of reconciliation.

"What can I do to earn your favor, Doctor?"

"Irene will wake up in four hours. Make sure she eats properly, not the way she does it."

"Will do."

"Free to go!"

Nihlus silently turned around and left the infirmary, carrying me in his arms. I decided not to provoke Karin and continued to lie limp. Krayk, the bastard, carried me across the entire command deck in front of the entire crew! Pressley, of course, couldn't help but notice us.

"Spectrum Krayk... what happened?" The genuine surprise in the XO's voice warmed my soul. "Charles Pressley, you know, it's absolutely impossible to argue with Dr. Chakwas."

Nihlus reported in a penetrating voice.

"At the slightest disobedience, she turns to heavy and... convincing arguments." With that, Garrus handed the tranquilizer dart to the startled XO. So that everyone can see and identify him.

"She's a very dangerous woman..." Garrus added.

Leaving the XO with a dart in his hand to digest the original behavior of the usually so polite Karin, I was taken to the cabin, and there we were finally able to have a good time under the quiet giggles of the Joker watching the whole performance. We weren't going to test the doctor's patience, so Garrus went to the galley, and Nihlus and I got to work. There is still time before Vermaer, and you can prepare in the cabin. An hour later, Joker called Tali to my cabin for a briefing.

The Normandy entered Vermaer's orbit. By this time, the landing group was ready: me, Nihlus, Garrus were standing at the ramp, in armor and with weapons, Tali in his usual spacesuit. We will land ten kilometers from the base on the ocean coast. Without the Mako. We'll walk to the base, avoiding any contact with the Geth. After our landing, the Normandy will leave the system and will not return here under any circumstances, but will wait at the agreed location for twenty days. We will get off the planet on a small spaceship, which we noticed at the spaceport four kilometers from the base.

"Rin, we're over the drop point."

The Joker's voice distracted me from my thoughts.

"Height?"

"About ten meters. I can't go any lower."

Drop us over the water.

"Understood."

The ramp slowly descended.

"Let's go!"

As I was already jumping off the ramp after Garrus, I heard the Joker's soft whisper:

"Good luck..."

"Thanks, Joker... We'll need it..." With that thought in mind, I flew into the warm ocean, and the Normandy smoothly went up and disappeared into the sky.

Chapter 29.1 Infiltration of Saren's base

"Saren is a fucking paranoid with a sick fantasy!" I muttered, helplessly sliding into the fluffy grass.

"I couldn't agree more." Garrus grumbled, peering through powerful binoculars at the sprawling base below us. Nihlus tactfully remained silent.

Tali stared at our target with holy horror.

All our plans fell apart at the first sight of this work of fortification art. This is not a laboratory, but a freaking fortress! Powerful, almost vertical, monolithic walls shot up from the ocean waters for forty meters, forming a continuous perimeter, inside which an entire city was located: laboratories, production complexes, warehouses, a small spaceport for the owner's personal ship, a residential area for staff, barracks and training complexes. There was only one monorail leading to the fortress, which was guarded in such a way that the very idea of trying to come on it smelled not only of suicide, but was simply natural insanity! And the final stop of the train was the main spaceport, where ALL the ships arrived. On the inside, only Saren had the right to land, and no one else.

No access roads. No walking approaches. ONLY the monorail. A superbly defended fortress. Absolutely reliable. With a huge garrison of Krogan and Geth, and both were well armed. The automatic defense and the anti-ship missile defense system destroyed the very idea of taking this fortress by storm. It's only going to be bombed! Quick photos from orbit didn't even give us a close idea of the true picture and the depth of the ass we were in, because we have no way back: the Normandy had already left the system an hour ago and dumped at the assembly point.

"Tali." The Quarian woke up from her stupor. "Can you connect to their internal network from here?"

A golden instrumentron interface unfolded above the girl's graceful hand. It only took a couple of seconds for our technical genius to assess the situation.

"Yes, the repeater is powerful and the signal is stable. But they have a very serious defense system."

"Can you at least open the doors or windows for us without raising an alarm?"

"I can. Household protocols are not protected as much as combat protocols."

"Great." I rubbed my forehead. "Can you get a plan of this fortress?"

"I've already received it." our darling modestly announced, and a golden hologram unfolded over her a small hand.

"Where are Saren's private chambers?"

"Here." The hologram turned towards us like a huge smooth wall, and part of the far turret turned red.

"What, the whole tower?"

"Upper floors and access to the mooring area. Downstairs is a private laboratory." Tali replied immediately.

"That's how..."

I stared at the hologram intently, and the longer I looked at it, the clearer I understood... that we are incredibly lucky that Saren, it turns out, is a lover of solitude and ocean views.

"Are you able to open these windows?"

"Yes."

"Go-od..." I sprawled on the grass, looking up at the clear blue sky. "We are waiting until the evening. The staff is just leaving the labs for the apartment complex..."

Garrus put away his rifle and sat down next to him.

"Do you have an idea?"

"Yes... there is a hint of an idea. Tali, what's with the sensory array of this joy?"

The Quarian sighed.

"You won't like it."

"I love disgusting news..." I grimaced. "Come on, be happy..."

Well, she made us happy...

No, Saren is not fucking paranoid! He's just fucking sick in the head! Was he so influenced by Nazara, or did he pick up the paranoia of his entire race from birth by airborne droplets in a particularly concentrated form?

Almost everything was monitored around the complex! I mean, absolutely everything! It's easier to hack a ship's airlock with a toothpick than to break into this complex! A completely enclosed, self-sufficient fortress. Everything was checked, right down to the fluctuations of the magnetic background. I'm just in shock... No, I'm SHOCKED! If it hadn't been for a single moment, I would have curtailed the operation and tried to catch Arterius in some other way.

All over the fortress... The biological activity sensors were turned off due to the diverse and extremely curious Vermaire wildlife, which got into the habit of climbing into the complex, and in a couple of months they had been annoying the staff with constant alarms. The sensors were quickly turned off: Saren was once in the complex at the moment when a pack of small animals got behind the perimeter and set the whole fortress on its ears for almost a decade, until they were killed. After such a visual demonstration, Arterius, gritting his teeth, agreed to block the entire array of biological sensors.

Tali pulled out such details from the life of a closed town in the third hour, rummaging through the internal correspondence of the staff. Actually, a lot of interesting facts have surfaced, but we weren't particularly interested in them right now.

One thing became clear: the sentients were terrified of Saren Arterius and his ship. One thing became clear: the sentients were terrified of Saren Arterius and his ship. Especially his ship. The Lord was truly terrifying. And I was incredibly pleased, because no one ever entered his private chambers, no matter what. And geth's were forbidden to stay there by Saren himself.

When the sun touched the horizon, we were already sitting between huge boulders protruding from the ocean waters exactly opposite our favorite window beyond the boundaries of the sensory system coverage area and waiting for Tali to give the go-ahead. The plan to infiltrate this work of paranoid intelligence has been thought out and discussed from all sides for a long time. And it was as simple as a ruler: the absence of sensors tracking the movements of biological objects gave me room for imagination.

Truth... without armor and weapons, but what is the lack of weapons for a metamorph? The right thing... such little things! A metamorphic mentalist is a hell of a thing... Initially, we planned to enter the complex after dark, but Fate presented us with a completely unexpected gift: one of the windows turned out to be open! Someone had lowered the sturdy bulletproof glazing from the inside, and now he was sitting and staring at the setting sun. I wasn't going to miss this chance!

Due to the nature of the sensors, we had to abandon weapons and remove armor for everyone except Tali, who is absolutely dependent on her spacesuit. I had to abandon ALL weapons and armor! Only Garrus' visor was saved. And then, turned off, strapped to the waist of the Tali. The Quarian herself remained sitting on the rocks. I'll go after her on the second flight, when I catch that unexpected benefactor, so that he doesn't have time to escape.

So... Leaving the Quarian woman in complete shock, meditating over a pile of weapons and scattered armor, I stripped naked and dived into the ocean. Now... easy parameter correction. The body changed rapidly: the legs fused into a strong tail, and a membrane appeared between the fingers. A fucking mermaid... It's a laugh and a sin, but it's a long way to swim three kilometers to the walls.

Tali gasped faintly. The Turians watched with some mild interest, sitting on the rocks. The only clothes they wear are the short trousers of a sidekick.

"Are you ready?"

There were simultaneous nods in response. Relax. I won't let you drown anyway. I waited until they grabbed me by the shoulders and, pushing off sharply, drove forward, trying to ignore the waves of panic and the hands clenching too tightly on my shoulders. If I were human, they'd break all my bones! Turians, it turns out, can't swim at all! They're just drowning.

When I swam up to the foundation of the massive walls, both Turians calmed down a bit and stopped panicking. Leaving them clinging to the stone, I rebuilt my body again: my fingers got powerful claws, the tail disappeared without a trace, as well as the membranes. After examining the result, I easily climbed the wall, without any trouble digging my almost monomolecular claws into the poly concrete.

There was only one reasonable person in the room behind the open window. The Azari. I jumped over the windowsill without a sound, knocking out the blue-skinned beauty with a light mental blow. There was no need to bind her: the mental probe allowed her to fully control her body, and the victim, even while in creation, would not be able to blink without my permission.

I slipped easily into her mind. What do we have here? But we have... the wing is practically empty. The staff was already drowning in the living quarters, getting ready for bed, the Geth were simply not here, and this lady was delayed for a reason that was banal to the point of amazement: every evening, while Saren, who terrified her, was absent from the planet, she came to this window and just sat looking at the sun setting into the ocean. That's all. No other interest. Just sit and watch the beautiful sunset, let go of what happened during the day, of her fears and worries where no one would look for her and bother her.

I took a spool out of my spatial pocket, secured it by the window and threw down a cable with two zhumars at the end. An ordinary synthetic cable, without any technical gadgets. While the Turians were climbing, I jumped out of the window and swam after the nervous Quarian. I had to influence the girl mentally, plunging her into a deep sleep, otherwise this kicking body almost managed to drown me. This is despite the fact that I could breathe underwater! But I did it! She pinned him down and lifted him up, leaving a couple of very interesting long, deep scratches on the wall... When I almost lost my temper. By the time the sun was halfway below the horizon, the four of us were standing in front of a locked door.

Tali broke it open in three minutes, allowing us to enter a long gallery leading to Saren's private chambers. I removed the traces of mental influence, sat Asari on her favorite chair, allowing her body to take a familiar pose. The door slammed shut behind us, and the girl shuddered and woke up from her stupor, blinked, looked in surprise at the setting sun, sighed, propped her chin on her fist, and returned to watching, not at all surprised that she dozed off for a couple of minutes.

Just like that, and without any special trouble, we made our way to a perfectly protected fortress, taking advantage of an ordinary, unpredictable accident: a young asari just loved to watch the sunset and lowered the armored glazing at that time.

Chapter 29.2 Irene's conversation with Saren.

Three days. We've been sitting in this fortress for three fucking days now, not risking making our presence known, and even more so, keeping our heads down in Saren's private quarters. The first day passed dynamically: we searched every nook and cranny of this wing, poking curious faces into every door and drawer, ignoring only the terminal of communication with the Lord. But I flew into the Protean lighthouse at full gallop, earning a new batch of nightmares. Out of boredom, Tali hacked everything that could be easily hacked, and for the past day we have been reading the correspondence of the fortress staff with interest and watching the reality show "Fortress Life" through numerous cameras.

Nihlus discovered a small arsenal, and we were able to acquire weapons... but not with armor. Saren wasn't holding her at all. I had to settle for natural armor, making something like a replica of the light Illithiri armor out of chitin and cobwebs. You can't really walk around naked, can you? Tali then studied the cuirass for a long time, trying to figure out how a spider web could grow from chitin... How-how... just like it all grew on me instead of skin! It's completely natural and very comfortable!

The tedious wait ended in the middle of the fourth day, when we were already mad with boredom and army rations. Apart from this highly nutritious stuff, there was nothing to eat!

"Rin! Nihlus, Garrus!"

The excited voice of the Quarian made us explode and fly into a large hall located at the back of the private wing, which we adapted for housing.

"What happened?"

"Saren has arrived!" Tali brought up a broadcast from one of the cameras she had hacked.

A small Turian corvette was landing at the inner spaceport of the settlement. One of those that the Council distributes free of charge to its Spectr.

"Is there a lord?"

"Not visible."

"I wonder where this ancient creature is? Well, it doesn't matter. Tali, keep an eye on Arterius."

Everything was already thought out and prepared two days ago. There was no point in twitching. We sat and patiently watched our victim, tracking all her movements around the complex. Saren ran around the fortress until the evening, busy with some business. Five hours later, Nazara showed up, he would not be remembered by nightfall, and hovered over the fortress, but at least he did not descend, and Saren went to his room. No, it's not like that. He immediately went to the communication terminal with the ancient creature.

I felt his mind when the Turian entered the gallery. And almost instantly, the presence of the Lord. The Reaper was felt so clearly and clearly that it left no doubt about the direct and immediate effect on his puppet. I didn't even try to get closer, studying them from a distance. I was just looking at the general background, measuring the Reaper's strength and ability for sophisticated work.

What he saw was terrifying. The Lord is incredibly strong! You can't kill him by sheer force. Generally. Not at all! But! Great power has its downside. Nazara absolutely could not operate with thin cords! He just didn't notice them and didn't see them. All that jewelry charm in Benezia's mind was not created by him! This is an expanded ready-made matrix! It was a kind of template that caused the discrepancy between the complexity of the impact and the task that surprised me. The Reaper simply deployed a program created by someone, rather than doing it himself. And with that, I will destroy it. You can't attack something that you just can't see!

Saren walked into the communications room, and I easily slid along the wall, stopping at the open door. The conversation with the Overlord passed me by: I was hacking into the Turian's brain, trying not to get caught by the Reaper. Only thin feelers, only an imperceptible impact, on the verge of a shade of meaning.

I didn't notice.

Now it's time to shift the layer of memories a little, pull out the image of Benezia, redirect concern for the unfulfilled task to her. Anxiety leads to a desire to find out the reason for silence or failure, and this desire has already provoked the adoption of a completely logical decision: to fly to Noveria and check the progress of the work yourself. Who knows what could have happened? It's worth checking in person. That's what Saren told the Reaper. The logic of the action did not raise objections, and the ancient monster agreed. Now, one more impact. Is the Reaper huge? Huge. Recognizable? Absolutely! Is it unique? Of course! I don't even need to be told anything. Saren knows this very well himself. It's enough just to "highlight" the necessary concepts a little, building a logical chain from them: a huge unique recognizable ship - unnecessary attention - problems - solution: fly on an ordinary ship, sending such a noticeable Reaper far away. The beauty of it is that Nazara perfectly saw these thoughts arise in his subordinate's head, but he did not see WHAT provoked them. He couldn't notice my touch. But I saw the result. It is quite natural and understandable. Logical. And he... I agreed... having gone somewhere on his reaper business before receiving the puppet's summons.

The sound of the Lord taking off has never been so pleasant to me! Nazara, this ancient, insanely ancient creature... Get off the planet!

When the feeling of the Reaper's presence disappeared, Saren flinched slightly, growling softly. Yes, the Lord hits the brains VERY significantly! But a reasonable person unfamiliar with the basics of mentalism can think for a long time and sincerely that the heaviness in his head is just the result of a conversation with such a monster. Saren thought so... and quite unnecessarily. A heavy head and confused thoughts are the first and most basic signs of a direct invasion. Besides, the intrusion is rude. But right now, Saren's distracted state was good for me: my tired mind was unable to resist. The Turian never noticed how one control was replaced by another. He didn't even realize what had happened. It was just that at some point the world in front of his eyes suddenly went dark, and his consciousness turned off, leaving his body standing in the middle of the corridor, indifferent to everything.

When we entered the room, everyone froze. Tali gave a startled squeak, Garrus raised his weapon, and Nihlus stared at his mentor, who stood impassively. I was leading Saren by the hand, and he was just mechanically putting his feet together. A living doll without a trace of intelligence in unnaturally blue eyes, already affected by indoctrination.

"Rin?" Nihlus stood up and slowly walked over. "What's wrong with him?"

"His mind is disconnected." I left my victim standing. "It's just that the body is under control."

"But how?" Tali asked in a barely audible voice.

"The Reaper is not the only mentalist in this galaxy." Grimacing, I said. "He's incredibly strong! A real monster! One thing pleases: the subtle influence is beyond his perception. Okay. I'll tell you about Nazar later. Saren sent the Reaper for a walk, and he said that he would fly to Noveria to check on Benezia."

"Your job?"

"Yes. Nazara didn't even realize that someone else had gotten into Saren's brain."

"Nazara?" Garrus tilted his head in surprise, examining the motionless kinsman.

"That's his name. And now - be silent! No matter what I do, no matter what I say, keep quiet! Nihlus, this is especially true for you! Understood?"

A short nod. Then I'll deal with the storm that's raging in his head.

"You know what... Go to another room."

Interestingly, three reasonable people left without a single squeak. Only Nihlus paused for a moment and stared intently into the shining blue eyes, indifferent to everything. He shuddered, slightly lowered his head.

"Please don't try to interfere. It's necessary. Do you believe me?"

"I believe." Nihlus put his hand on my shoulder, squeezed a little, and left.

Leading a dumb doll through the whole complex is insanity. They'll notice. It's quite another matter if we are led by an enraged Saren Arterius in his own terrifying persona. But in order for it to be Saren, and not just a doll, I need to awaken his mind and rock him properly. So...

A sharp gleam of intelligence appeared in the blue eyes, the Turian jerked sharply, but immediately froze. Rage surged instantly! Smart boy, he immediately realized what had happened. Now let's see if you're able to think straight.

"Hello, Saren Arterius. I finally got to see you in person." My vocal cords were unblocked, so I quite reasonably heard the answer:

"Shepard!"

"It's nice to be recognized." I paced in front of his face, allowing him to examine me, evaluate me and understand how much I was NOT what he expected to see. "Surprised?"

"A little bit." the rage has subsided, simmering quietly in the depths.

Intelligent, luminous eyes intently examined my figure, noting the plasticity of my movements, unusual armor, facial expression, gaze, and demeanor. Yes, that's right. You don't know ANYTHING about the creature that walks in front of you. That's right, be surprised, let the established pattern crack.

"I must say, I'm already tired of waiting for you. Although, I... appreciated your hospitality."

Annoyance.

"Did you come for my head?"

A logical question, by the way.

"You could say that." I graciously agreed. "However, I need it complete with everything else. So, I won't cut it off. Although... looking at you... such a desire arises."

A sharp look, full of reasonable apprehension. Well, yes, well, yes... when you are unable to move even the tip of your finger, such fears appear.

"I must say, I'm glad you had the brains to send Nazara away. This ancient creature is completely superfluous at our celebration of life."

Understanding and surprise.

"Do you know?"

"I know." I stopped abruptly, staring intently into my eyes, which were wide with anger. "But you obviously don't understand what kind of monster you're messing with!"

"I know."

"You don't know anything! Do you think what this Reaper told you is true?"

"Yes!" a scream full of rage and despair.

Oh, yes! There it is! Consciousness kicked in, pulling all the strings! Saren started thinking with his own brain!

"Only partially! Tell me, Saren Arterius, do you know exactly HOW the Harvest ends? Why do the Reapers need organics?"

"I know. Synthesis. Merge. The highest form of evolution."

"He lied beautifully to you without telling a single lie."

Saren hesitated. The blue eyes narrowed, staring intently at my face.

"Lied?"

"Reapers are MADE of organics." I walked up to him almost right next to him, staring into his eyes. "They RECYCLE organics BY ABSORBING them. Yes, in a sense, a FUSION is taking place, because the Reaper created from this species consumes all memory. No emotions. ONLY dry knowledge. Do you understand what this merging of the two means? This SYNTHESIS?"

"That's a lie!" a cry full of anger.

Yes, that's right! Rage, anger! Despair! You have to understand! You have to take off the first and most terrible drill yourself, even if it plows your mind. Then I'll put it in a pile...

"Do you know what a husk's is?"

In response, a skeptical look.

"Don't look at me like that. You'd better look at yourself." I grabbed his arm and pulled him over to the mirror. "Look into your eyes. They glow so beautifully... And what interesting blue lights you have on your cheekbones." I ran my finger over the lights I was looking for, which made him flinch. "Does it remind you of anything?"

Saren jerked as if he'd been slapped in the face with all his might, and I slowly relaxed my control over his body. You can't convince him. Senselessly. It is necessary to ask questions to which he will find the answer HIMSELF. The right answer.

The Turian stood and stared intently at his face. VERY intently! He's a smart guy, and it didn't take him long to put two and two together and draw direct parallels.

A low, hateful growl escaped from his throat. And now, the cruelest part. He should drop the bindings here and now. He must get to the truth himself, otherwise he will never be able to convince him later. He's too suspicious.

Now... I will hit the most painful points. Because it still feels painful.

"Do you like it? The first stage of indocrination in all its glory!"

In response, a low growl.

"You've seen it happen more than once."

"What do you want?"

"So that you can start thinking with your genius head!" I shouted. "Saren, you're smart, but you fell for the old bastard's nonsense like a naive cub!"

"The machine can't lie!"

"Nazara is not a car! This ancient creature is organic! Forget the fairy tales about synthetics and organics! A Reaper is a sentient, completely self-sufficient being. A LIVING being! And it lies brilliantly! Without saying a word of lies, faking the truth, turning events around and serving you small cuts with the right sauce. And you fell for this trick, like a fly on a bait!"

Saren growled.

"Don't growl at me! And use your brains while you still have them!"

"What do you mean?" The Turian turned abruptly.

"Indoctrination, Saren, is not just brainwashing. This is the subjugation of the body. Its restructuring. You've seen the same eyes before. Remember! The eyes were the first to change!"

I pushed to consciousness a layer of memories that he so wanted and could not forget. And with my help, he remembered WHERE, WHEN, under what circumstances, and on WHOSE face he had seen the same eyes.

Saren turned around, looking in the mirror, and literally froze. He couldn't help but draw a parallel. I couldn't help but find out. I couldn't help but remember. But I couldn't believe it either...

"I'll make it easier for you."

I stood next to him, completely losing control of his body. He's not dangerous right now. He's too confused right now, too overwhelmed by the truth.

"Two words. The monoliths of the Arch."

Bright pain and deafening hatred flashed, reflected in the dark blue glow of biotics.

"Do you remember what happened?"

"Remember." a low growl.

"The monoliths were created by the Reapers. It's just one of many finds of such trash, generously left for future generations of organic life. Unlike you, I fully understood the information from the lighthouse. Not with disparate pictures, but with a clear, well-structured data system. You're not the first to be subjugated by the Reapers. And you're not the last one."

"Were the monoliths indoctrinated?" It's a dumb question.

"Yes"

The bright light blue eyes closed, and rage hit my senses.

"Haw?"

"Nanites."

Saren shuddered all over. He didn't have to explain the meaning and horror of the word.

"And now I am?"

"You know the answer."

The mental channel was breaking with an almost physically audible creak. Rage and pain did what I would have spent weeks doing: the cords tore, freeing his mind, revealing what was hidden. He REMEMBERED everything that was covered by oblivion and false memory. If he had been even a little weaker... and he would have broken. The understanding of creation hit him with all its might, with all its force, revealing and ruthlessly manifesting his actions and their consequences. He understood and realized everything.

"I can't resist the Lord." he said calmly, stating the fact.

The rage subsided, completely dissolving into indifference. Holy shit! That's what, but I definitely don't need indifference! That's what, but I definitely don't need indifference!

"No"

Bright eyes stared at me intently. Smart, understanding... Damn it, Saren, sometimes you're TOO smart! Where it is not necessary!

"But can you?"

"I can."

"How?"

"Reapers aren't the only ones with the gift of mentalism." The light blue eyes widened in understanding. "Yes, his power is terrifying, but you can't break him by sheer force. But there are other ways that are inaccessible to this creature. Thin ones. More elegant ones."

Saren shuddered and shook his head in understanding. Well yeah. It's difficult for even a complete idiot not to understand how you were caught with such confessions. Interestingly, there is not a shadow of indignation. Understands, recognizes effectiveness, and takes it for granted. Having the power, I used it with maximum efficiency. He easily understood this and... approved.

"Can you protect your mind?"

"Your own? Yes."

"Can you destroy it?"

"Him?" I chuckled. "Nazara is just an observer. He's not as dangerous as... the others. He's careless. Overconfident. Arrogant. He does not perceive us as an enemy."

Saren typed something on his instrument, and then turned off the device, took it off his hand and handed it to me.

"Everything I've been able to find out about the Reapers is here. The research is from Sidon, from my laboratory. Recordings of conversations with the Lord. Everything that could be found. Passwords have been removed from the data."

I silently took the bracelet and put it on my hand. Saren stared intently, thinking about something. There is a frightening emptiness in emotions, tinged with doom. For the first time, he did not lie to himself even in small things, looking at the situation in which he found himself without embellishment.

Saren moved to the far wall, pacing slowly and studying my face intently. The rage had almost completely disappeared, only occasionally surging on the edge of intuition. The general background of emotions is dispassionate indifference and calm determination. He had ALREADY made his decision. That's just it... which one?

"I've opened access to my ship." He calmly informed me, interrupting any possible objections with a short gesture. "Take this information to the Council and warn them about the threat of Harvest. They have to believe and take action."

"They already know. I warned them so that they believed me."

Saren slowly threw.

"The Geth's won't hurt you. There is a pass on the omny-tool. Take him to the Citadel and give him to Sparatus. He knows what can be done with such information."

"And you?"

Cold, luminous light blue eyes glared at him with a hard, penetrating gaze.

"Indocrination cannot be reversed. It can't even be slowed down." He wasn't trying to justify himself, he was just telling me well-known and verified facts. "I know. Conducted research." a short pause. "It's too late for me."

A wave of cold swept down my spine. Saren, for fuck's sake...

"Thank you, Shepherd." Saren released his pistol from the grips, bringing it into a fighting position.

"Saren!"

"Goodbye."

Saren Arterius lifted his chin slightly, raised his hand in one swift, precise movement, putting the muzzle under his jaw, and... pulled the trigger.

Chapter 30.1: Escape from the base

A booming shot rang out almost simultaneously with the hiss of the door opening. Nihlus flew into the room and stopped abruptly, as if he had crashed into the air: before his eyes, a massive black pistol fell out of his fingers. His gun, the one that disappeared without a trace on Eden Prime. Saren slowly toppled over onto his side and sank to the floor. Blue blood, unnaturally bright in the lamplight, generously poured over the white armor, splashing out of the wound.

"Saren!"

The green-eyed Turian darted to the mentor who had fallen to the floor, grabbed him by the shoulders, lifted his head, looking at the flowing blood in confusion and disbelief. I came over and sat down next to him.

"He's alive." I muttered, ripping open my palm with my claw. "I barely managed to pull his hand away. Fast when you don't have to."

"How..."

"Muscle cramp. Involuntary contraction, the arm jerked, and the bullet passed under the jaw. He's stunned right now. It wasn't enough for him to try to finish what he had started."

My blood, already noticeably giving off a golden sheen, flowed onto the open wound, spurring the body and accelerating regeneration. The bullet passed successfully, without damaging the larynx and voice box.

Garrus entered the room. He looked at Saren, who was covered in blood, and blinked in surprise.

"Is he dead?"

"You're a good guy, Garrus!" I chuckled. "No, of course not! Alive. Bring some water, we need to wash off the blood. And it's time to get out of this extremely hospitable place."

Garrus brought a bottle of water and washed the blood off Saren in two generous splashes.

"Is that why he's wearing white armor?" I grumbled, watching the blue rivulets flow down. "Not blue, not black, but white?"

Nihlus shrugged his shoulders and replied:

"As long as I can remember, Saren has always worn white armor."

"Even in such a small matter, but life makes it difficult."

I had to take control of his limp body again. When Saren jerked and stood up awkwardly, Nihlus tensed, but then noticed his closed eyes and relaxed a little.

"Will you drive like that?"

"There is no choice. Bringing him back to consciousness after a conscious suicide attempt is not the best idea. It remains to be seen how he will react to an unexpected rescue."

Nihlus frowned.

"How true are his words? About indocrination."

"Did you hear that?"

"You were yelling so hard that it was hard not to hear." Garrus replied, gazing intently at the blank face of the one he had once considered an enemy and a traitor to the race. "Are these light blue lights a sign of indoctrination?"

"Yes. It's them." She looked at Nihlus and sighed. "Saren is right. With what your civilization has at its disposal, indocrination cannot be slowed down or stopped. Nanites cannot be removed from the body, and altered tissues cannot be returned to their previous state. His decision to commit suicide was well-founded."

Nihlus slowly raised his hand, wearily ran his fingers over his face, rubbed his neck. Despair flared up in a thick, heavy wave, but quickly subsided. Garrus jerked his hand: an involuntary and unconscious gesture.

"Rin... You have... ways to rid Arterius of nanites and indoctrination?" Our sniper asked slowly, with a slight drawl.

"There is. Otherwise, I wouldn't have started this whole rescue thing."

The green eyes narrowed, staring intently at my face. Nihlus shifted his gaze to Saren, who was standing blankly, then looked back at my face.

"How?"

"There is a way. It's extreme, of course, but it's there. I have one thing left that can take away all the excess. However, she defines what is included in the concept of "superfluous" herself. But it will work with a guarantee."

"Is there an alternative?"

"There is. But it's VERY long, tedious, and... in fact, it's going to be manual fishing. This is already a last resort." I sighed. "In any case, it's worth getting out of this fortress first. And it's advisable not to wait until morning, since Saren was kind enough to give me his ship and free passage to it."

There were no objections. We picked up our weapons and left Saren's private quarters. I was leading him a little ahead of our squad. We could only hope that we would not meet anyone very curious and attentive, because we would not be able to explain why Saren walks with his eyes closed like a somnambulist.

We got to the small runway without any problems at all. On the way, we met only Geth people, but the synthetics did not react to our strange company in any way, following us with their light bulbs. I don't know what exactly produced the result: Saren's personal presence or the pass he issued, but we walked unhindered to a small Turian corvette, boarded and took off. And not a single living or synthetic mug was curious about where Saren Arterius was soaping up in such a fast company in the middle of the night.

They love him here, I see...

Chapter 30.2 the destruction of nanites and miplatates.

The corvette was noticeably different from the Normandy I was already familiar with. Despite the fact that the Kratos was almost half the size of the frigate, its interior was much more conveniently planned and divided, devoid of unnecessary corridors and voids. Thanks to this, the two-deck ship, half of the internal volume of which was occupied by the propulsion array, engineering and reactor compartment, had a full-fledged infirmary, an arsenal, and a roomy hold with the Virk Turian all-terrain vehicle standing in it. There was even room for quite normal cabins on the ship: two six-bed cabins and one rather spacious one for the captain or, in this case, the owner. The navigation bridge is combined with the wheelhouse, and did not take up so much space unnecessarily. Naturally, there was no beautiful but completely useless holographic map of the galaxy. The Kratos was originally designed for one reasonable person, and it was assumed that a single pilot would be enough to control this ship. VI replaced the crew and brought all current information about the condition of the ship directly to the control room. However, no one bothered to recruit a crew.

I liked Kratos. Compact, convenient, devoid of completely unnecessary rooms. A single room replaced both the dining room, the briefing room, and the recreation area, dividing almost in half by a movable bulkhead if necessary. With the estimated number of reasonable people on board the corvette, there was no need to separate these three rooms. The infirmary was located near the hold near the arsenal, and not like on the Normandy: to carry a wounded soldier from the ramp to the infirmary, you will have to go through the entire ship. I have a couple of days until the corvette goes to the rendezvous point with the Normandy, and, in an amicable way, it's worth investigating the condition of Saren on board this ship. I won't be able to work calmly at the Norm without looking at prying eyes.

Damn it... At least take it and don't go back to the frigate...

Saren's body rose into the air and froze in the middle of the infirmary. I unfolded the aura, saturating the space with energy. Now... suspended animation. The Turian's life processes were slowing down, actually stopping. In this state, I can keep him for seven hours without endangering the brain. It should be enough to fully examine the body, remove the armor and these tubes. Let's see how bad it really is.

After half an hour, I realized what was good about Saren's condition was the fact that he was still alive and relatively sane... Relatively.

They managed to remove the armor from him with a creak and obscenity. When I saw the true state of Arterius ... I have no clear words or emotions left. Just gestures and expressions! And a state of deep shock. HOW DID HE EVEN LIVE LIKE THIS? The entire left side of the body is disfigured and twisted, as if it had been hit by at least a rocket. The shoulder and arm are a Geth's prosthesis. The entire left side of the rib cage is missing altogether: the bones are replaced by a metal frame that is attached directly to the fragments. The Shoulder blade is kept in a pile thanks to the numerous pins. There is no clavicle on the left at all - it is replaced by another implant. There is no clavicle on the left at all - it is replaced by another implant. Spine... It is broken in three places, the neck at the base of the skull is supported only by implants, the vertebrae have been replaced with prostheses. The left lung is practically absent. This is not counting minor injuries, of which there were simply an incredible number. There is simply no left femur in the middle - two pieces of split bone are connected by metal. Super simple! And on top of all this is indocrination, which is actively developing and has already begun to rebuild bones and internal organs.

There are no words.

I knew that the condition of the Arterius would be... not the best. Seeing these tubes and a prosthetic arm, I was already mentally ready to grow this arm. But the reality turned out to be much scarier and bleaker: Saren Arterius has been a cripple for quite some time.

No matter how he died after the destruction of the Nanites...

I paced around the infirmary around the motionless body in the air. I just can't wait to get to the Normandy infirmary. Saren won't live to see it. It's almost pointless to treat it while nanites are in the body. This will only spur the development of indoctrination. But leaving him as an eviscerated body is also not an option. I cannot lift SUCH a body onto a frigate.

"Nihlus, can you hear me?"

"Yes." the answer after a short pause.

"Turn back."

Pause.

"Rin?"

"We're going back to Vermaer. Choose a quiet place for us, away from prying eyes."

"I understood." a calm answer.

The Corvette shook violently. What I like about both Nihlus and Garrus is the lack of the habit of asking dumb questions. If we have to go back, we're going back. They'll get the information out later if they don't get answers along the way, but that'll be later. And now - not a single superfluous word.

We returned to the planet quickly: some twenty minutes, and the ship stopped on the flat grass of a small mountain plateau.

Nihlus entered the infirmary, took a couple of steps by inertia and stopped, looking at his mentor, who was motionless in the air, surrounded by the implants I had removed. Garrus just shook his head and remained standing by the door, leaning his shoulder against the wall.

"Rin..." Nihlus slowly approached, gazing intently at the mutilated body. "What?.. What's wrong with him?"

"And then you'll find out from Saren himself." The implants were lowered into a large box in the corner of the infirmary. "I just took off his armor and the implants that can be removed without surgery."

"I knew he had been shot in the shoulder. But I didn't realize it was that bad... bad."

"Haven't seen him for a long time?"

"Long ago." Nihlus replied somewhat confusedly. "Saren did not return to Citadel Space often, preferring to travel through Traverse and Terminus Systems."

"Apparently, he's not very talkative." I muttered.

"He rarely shared his problems." Nihlus nodded in agreement. "I had no idea that things had gone so far. During communication sessions, he preferred to hide his left side."

"I noticed this back at the Council." I sighed. "Okay, why bother now? Of course, I didn't expect everything to be simple, but I didn't even imagine that everything would be so bad. I'll have to use up my old stocks... for the sake of such an occasion."

On our way out of the infirmary, Tali met us. The girl noticed that we had returned to the planet and went to find out the reason. When Tali saw Saren, she just gasped, pressed her palm to the helmet in front of her lips, flashing outright horror.

"Isn't he handsome?" I chuckled wryly, pointing at the bloodied and mutilated body hanging in the air.

The Quarian was so taken aback that she couldn't find anything to say, and just watched in confusion as we exited the ship, genuinely not understanding where I was dragging the wounded Turian FROM the infirmary.

"Stay by the ship." I turned my head, staring intently into worried green eyes.

Nihlus nodded slowly and returned to the ramp.

After walking half a kilometer away, I stopped at a large flat stone that protruded slightly from the grass. You never know how in this reality the weaving will twist during work? There is little joy in being in the middle of an uninhabited planet with a ship wrecked by carelessness. The splash should not spread beyond three hundred meters. The wrong power. But a simple precaution doesn't hurt.

Obeying my will, Saren's body hovered motionless half a meter above the surface of the moss- and lichen-covered stone, dropping blue drops that glowed faintly with an azure glow. Fucking nanites! They are already visible visually. This means that there is still quite a bit left, and indoctrination will go like an avalanche, completely subjugating and rebuilding the victim's body. We stopped by on time...

I reached into my pocket, summoning the item I needed, my fingers tingled, and a small rectangular transparent plate lay in my palm, gently shimmering with a golden-green glow. It's not really an artifact. This is energy embodied in a physical form and taking the form of a material object. A rolled-up and ready-to-work weave, saturated with energy to the limit. It's expensive and powerful, but unfortunately it's disposable. And I only have one left.

The task of this particular weave is simple and extremely understandable, but incredibly difficult to perform: to remove from the body affected by it everything that is superfluous and harms its normal functioning. Interestingly, it doesn't matter what kind of combat dirty trick is used: it reads information directly from the body and aura of its victim, adjusting the result to the optimal parameters for the body and soul. It doesn't heal anything. It only removes the excess. Exactly, neatly. At the subatomic level. It's an indispensable thing when you live in a world with a well-developed field of Life magic and chimerology... considering what kind of trash the scumbags from magical science didn't splash out on the battlefields.

Well, Saren, let's see how much your reality and the All-Changing Chaos love you.

I placed the artifact on the Turian's chest, stepped out of the danger zone, and activated the weave. The record lit up, burst, and swelled into a greenish cloud. I used to often see such clouds on the battlefield... I never thought that I would use the battle weave for healing...

A wave of bright flashes passed through his body, which was convulsed in agony, and his eyes blazed with fire, burning out almost completely. The intensity of the disintegration fires gradually faded, and after working out, the spell dissipated, absorbed by the biofield of the planet.

Is it over? I took a closer look at the body. Yes. It's over. There was not a single blue light on the body, not a single flash of decay. The spell worked. The blood escaping from the tips of the claws was the usual dark blue color without a single glimmer of the azure glow of the nanites.

After the weaving job, Saren looked... Terrifying! The multitude of small ulcers left over from the nanite burnout created the sensation of a skinned body with selectively stripped skin. Almost everything was affected, except, thank all gods and demons, the brain. His body convulsed in small spasms of agony: his nervous system was on the verge of disintegration. Fucking nanites! Yes, Saren will die like that without any bullet in his head!

Shake the stocks, so shake it... I'll manage somehow... or I'll make new ones. Someday. Maybe. If possible.

Four large blue crystals appeared on the palm of his hand, softly glowing blue: concentrated vital energy in a self-disintegrating storage. It's a convenient thing to work with, but it's hard, long, and costly to create.

The first stone fell directly into the wound on his chest, flashed with a burst of released energy, and the Turian's body was enveloped in a soft golden glow. This is enough to accelerate regeneration by leaps and bounds, taking it far beyond the body's capabilities. However, not for long. Three crystals should be enough for me to repair the most critical damage. If I don't URGENTLY restore the circulatory and nervous systems, Saren will die quickly and guaranteed.

The last crystal was barely enough to stop the decay and degradation of the nervous system and restore the damaged spinal cord. What can I say, Saren Arterius, the native universe HATES you! But the First Foundation, perhaps, favors. You will live.

Burn Nazara in the flames of decay, how much more fuss I have to make! And you won't be able to get off with a simple recharge... We'll have to take extreme measures... I hate using THIS method of treatment...

Chapter 30.3 The treatment of Saren.

Nihlus saw me coming back, perked up and jerked towards me.

"No need." I stopped his impulse with a gesture. "You shouldn't see this."

A short pause, literally moments to reflect on the situation and make a decision.

"I want to know." a calm answer, said in a slightly trembling voice.

Nihlus approached, gazing intently at the blood-soaked body.

"How bad is it?"

He let me go ahead and was walking next to me now.

"Not as much as it seems. The nanites and all traces of their activity have been removed. The brain was not damaged. The nervous system... requires restoration. Everything else is not too critical. It takes a long time to heal, but Saren is more alive than dead."

"For how long?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"I can't say yet. How long do we have to fly to the rendezvous point?"

"Two hours to the repeater, three days of driving, and four days to the planet."

"We took longer on the Normandy."

In response, an ironic look.

"The Hierarchy has been flying around the Galaxy for the third thousand years. It's not surprising that our ships are faster and more powerful than human ones."

"It makes sense. The Alliance still cherishes the hope that the level of technology development is approximately equal."

The Turian shrugged his shoulders.

"What's the point of trying to convince them?"

"And it's true."

Nihlus looked at the body hanging in the air.

"You still haven't answered."

"Let's see what we can do during the flight." We reached the door of the infirmary. "Nihlus, you shouldn't see all this." I put my hand on his chest. "It's time for us to leave this world. Go. He's going to be fine. It's going to be okay now. I'm not going to let him die, since I've already spent artifacts on him that could buy a quarter of the planet."

"I'll give you the whole planet if you get him back on his feet." He whispered and left.

I shook my head as I opened the doors. Right now, he's still holding himself in check, trying to stay calm and cool, but he won't be enough for long, and pretty soon Nihlus will snap. And it would have been better if it hadn't happened on the Normandy.

Lowering the body onto the bed, I spoke loudly, knowing full well that I would be heard:

"Garrus, are you busy?"

There was a short pause, and the answer came through the intercom speakers:

"No."

"Come to the infirmary. I need help."

I didn't hear an answer, but Garrus came into the infirmary just a minute later.

"Can you put him on life support?"

Garrus nodded and silently did what was required.

"Is there an IV?"

A short nod. While the Turian was setting up an IV, I drained half a liter of my blood and poured it into the saline solution. The blood did not mix with the clear liquid, settling on the bottom in a dark cloud.

"What for?" he asked softly.

"My blood is very active, full of energy and acts as a light mutagen. It will help to repair the damage done."

"Will there be no conflict?"

"No. I have long adjusted my body to the biochemistry of your species." I replied ironically, looking into the wide, surprised light blue eyes. "Have you ever wondered why you've never caught even a mild allergy?"

Garrus chuckled slightly.

"I'm glad you take such good care of us."

"Who else should I care about in this reality?" I grimaced.

He didn't answer that question, just stared into my eyes.

"Do you know if Saren is a biotic?" I asked, getting off the slippery slope.

A slight tremor and the barely audible rumble of running engines pierced the ship: the corvette took off from Vermaer.

"As far as I know, no."

"Strange. There are traces of the zero element in his nerve nodes. A lot. The artifact didn't remove them, so they stuck." I was thinking. "Yes, perhaps there is a chance to save his biotics, no matter where he gets it from."

The energy supply rune lay on the twisted plates of natural armor, the outflow of energy stabilized, was structured and was directed by me to a specific goal: accelerating the regeneration of the nervous system.

Pulling a chair closer, I put my hand directly on the open wound where my collarbone was missing. A short change, and the skin on the palm bursts, letting out a thin trickle of blood.

"Now all that remains is to wait and keep an eye on the process." I muttered, getting comfortable.

Garrus stepped closer, giving me a chance to lean my shoulders and head against him. Clawed hands dug into her hair, rolling short strands between her fingers.

"How can I help you?"

"You're already helping." I shrugged my shoulders.

"And yet?" The vibrant voice sounded delightfully soothing, washing away fatigue and tension.

"Bring me something to eat in an hour. Is there any sweets on the ship?"

"There is. And a lot of."

"Wow... Saren has a sweet tooth." I couldn't help but chuckle. "You can't tell from him."

A hot hand slid over her neck, lightly stroking her skin.

"I never thought I'd see Arterius in such a state." Garrus confessed. "You know, I've been investigating his activities."

I nodded.

"Saren... dangerous."

"Who's arguing."

"Studying it... I realized that he is absolutely ruthless and recognizes only practicality and efficiency. He simply does not know such a thing as pity, does not follow the laws, and easily violates all prohibitions if they interfere with him." Garrus put his hand back on my head, unconsciously running his fingers through my short hair. "Saren will stop at nothing to complete the task." a brief flash of mild displeasure. "His suicide attempt only confirms this."

"From his point of view, the action is reasonable and logical."

"I heard."

"Did it change your opinion of him?"

"A little bit. I don't consider him a traitor. No one would have a chance against the Reaper. Saren just got hit."

I nodded.

"He got into the Lord with a flourish."

"When he realized what he had done and was able to lose control, he did what a Spectr should do: he did everything to get the information to the Council. And..." Garrus hesitated. "And removed the threat from his side."

"He almost ruined all our efforts!" I winced at the slight stab of pain as my body began to connect to the victim's body. "So much effort to get him out from under the Lord, and he almost flushed everything into the sewer with one shot!"

"He didn't know." the guy shrugged his shoulders.

Oh, how... already protecting him? This... Good. The image of the Enemy has not had time to take root and has already cracked. You can't hate someone you're picking apart... I would not like there to be conflicts between Garrus and Saren: Nihlus will suffer first of all because of them. If Garrus can accept Saren's logic now, it will help avoid a lot of problems in the future.

His arm tingled as blood entered the Turian's system. Some will break down into clean energy in the right places, some will boost regeneration, and some will... it will work as a mutagen. Naturally, limbs and crushed bones do not grow back in Turians, just like in humans. The body's energy resources are too low, regeneration is too slow, and the metabolism is not designed for such feints. But mine is very calculated. With a certain amount of imagination and skills, you can partially synchronize with another organism and give it the abilities of a metamorph for a while. Limited, defective, but sufficient for complete regeneration and restoration of the body. Although the process is so fucking unpleasant. To put it mildly.

"Garrus, I'm going to need foods rich in calcium, copper, chromium, iron, selenium, and protein. Especially calcium and protein."

"Will do."

That's how adorable he is! No left-wing questions and doubts. I'll do everything.

"If I fall out of reality for a while, don't be surprised or panic. Oh, yeah. It may happen that my hand will grow into his body." Garrus tensed, and his fingers twitched on my head. "This is normal and there is nothing terrible. I'll have to duplicate some of his bodily functions for a while."

"Is the damage that bad?"

"The nervous system is on the verge of disintegration. We'll have to turn around and try to prevent him from becoming a paralyzed invalid. Otherwise, it would be more merciful to kill him without allowing him to regain consciousness. Saren won't live like this. Garrus didn't answer, thoughtfully running his fingers through my hair, and I quickly disconnected from reality, shifting my attention to my body and its continuation, consciously accelerating the seizure of control over Saren's body. I have a lot of work to do...

Chapter 30.4 3 days later.

Three days flew by unnoticed, and I remembered again why I so dislike treating through a direct connection. No, the method is EXTREMELY effective, fast, and allows you to actually pull the patient out of the grave, endowing the patient with powerful metamorph regeneration, but the side effects, though not fatal, are unpleasant. When the ship left the stage in the system, where the Normandy was already supposed to be waiting for us, I was barely able to regain coordination of movements, having stopped sticking from the feeling of a limb that was not yet fully formed, which I already had in a completely healthy state. The Turians watched me with a bit of irony, Tali only looked in a couple of times to make sure I was okay.

I crawled to the control room with the matyugs and fell into the copilot's seat, kindly vacated by Garrus. My body stabilized and no longer tried to turn me into a Turian, returning to my usual mode of operation, although the phantom tips still held.

"I hate such methods." I muttered, examining the chitinous plate dissolving into the skin. "The body then brawls."

Nihlus grinned, watching the instruments with half an eye. The corvette was heading towards the planet in superlight.

"You looked it... interesting."

"Don't be sarcastic. You haven't seen it yet, when there was a wave of uncontrollable metamorphoses." I yawned into all the fangs that I hadn't managed to turn into human teeth yet. "That's a monster come out."

"But I liked it." Garrus muttered sarcastically, leaning over the back of the pilot's seat and happily burying his face in my overgrown hair. "I've never seen anything like it."

He should have seen it! Once, while learning this very direct connection after another semi-amoebic appearance, I freaked out and scored myself on the level of instinct: when I lose control of my body, it takes one of three combat transformations, depending on the situation. And Garrus just witnessed me sleeping in the middle of the infirmary in such a transformation. The hefty armored beast definitely found understanding in the Turian. After the first stupor has passed.

"How is Saren?"

"Normal." I yawned. "At least it can already be shown to other people's eyes. The most critical thing has been fixed: the nervous system has reached a completely autonomous existence, the brain is working normally, the circulatory system has been restored, and the internal organs too. The spine is still weak, but all the defects and old injuries have been fixed. The new vertebrae are still very fragile. They will get stronger to a normal state only after ten to fifteen days." I yawned again. "In general, the entire skeleton has been restored. The left arm still doesn't look its best, of course, but it's already there and functioning. The rest can be improved with energy replenishment and natural regeneration."

"How is his mind?" Nihlus asked quietly.

"I haven't even touched it yet. As long as he sleeps, nothing terrible will happen. His physical condition was much worse. Indoctrination could have started like an avalanche at any moment, and it would have been impossible to save him even with my capabilities. And so... The risk was too great."

Nihlus switched control to autopilot.

"Are you going to transfer it to the Normandy?"

"No."

The green eyes blinked in surprise.

"But why? We'll fly two ships to the Citadel, and then we'll leave this one in the hangar. I don't think Sparatus will give us a parking space for a small corvette."

"And the real reason?" Nihlus grinned, giving me a quick, sarcastic look.

"I like it here." I honestly admitted. "No one is poisoning your nerves, no worries and problems with the experimental trough and its childhood sores. And your ships are more convenient. They're just more comfortably made."

"The Spectre ship is designed to be inhabited indefinitely by the Spectre himself and his battle group, if any." Nihlus shrugged his shoulders. "Such corvettes are specially designed for the needs of the Special Corps."

"Do I have the same one?"

"Practically, yes. Only the newer model."

"So it's time for me to take a young pilot course. But it will be a little later." my stomach croaked plaintively, reminding me that I absolutely needed to put something in it. "I'm going to loot Saren's food supplies. How much longer to fly?"

"About twenty minutes."

"Good." I got up and stretched.

As I was leaving the control room, I added:

"By the way. I managed to save his biotics."

Nihlus shuddered and turned around.

"Rin... Saren has never been a biotic."

Chapter 31.1 The rendezvous point with Normandy.

"Kratos calling Normandy." Nihlus's calm, vibrant voice rang out in the silence of the control room. "Normandy, please respond."

Silence and complete disregard. The most interesting thing was that our ship was in low orbit exactly above the Normandy we were looking for and wasn't going anywhere. But the frigate stubbornly refused to respond and defiantly pretended to be part of the landscape. The Joker followed my orders and remained completely silent. However, it wasn't quite appropriate right now.

"Kratos is calling in Normandy."

There was silence in response. Nihlus cursed and screamed:

"Joker, damn you! Did you fall asleep in there?"

A short pause and a cautious question:

"Nihlus?"

"Are you waiting for someone else in this hole?" The Turian asked venomously. "We will land near you. A Turian corvette. Warn the first officer."

Ten minutes later, the Kratos landed smoothly near the Normandy on a rocky plateau.

The planet on which the meeting was scheduled had a breathable atmosphere, but, like Vermaer, it was not colonized. While waiting for the disinfection procedure to finish, I once again thanked my paranoia for abandoning the original collection point: the frozen satellite of the gas giant. How would we get to the Normandy then-a mystery shrouded in darkness! Due to his injuries, Saren simply did not keep the standard armor on the ship, as he could not use it. At least we found the usual clothes, otherwise we would have to show up in front of the crew in a completely obscene form. However, I'm already in an obscene state. Saren's clothes looked presentable on me... But flaunting chitinous armor is asking for unnecessary questions and problems.

The XO himself met us in the hold, and the only reaction to our appearance was wide eyes and surprise.

"Captain?" Pressley asked cautiously.

"Were you expecting someone else?" I grinned at him.

"You..." the XO stammered, not knowing how to ask the question that tormented him more tactfully, but his eloquent gaze, running over our figures, spoke more clearly than words.

"Saren is a paranoid man with a sick fantasy." I grimaced. "The orbital surveys don't show even a fraction of what we've discovered. The laboratory has such protection that it is impossible even to carry an active thermoclip, let alone a weapon!"

"Have you abandoned everything?" Rex asked with interest.

I turned around, gesturing to a bored Krogan.

"Had to."

Nihlus snorted.

"And what are you waiting for?" I looked at the grinning Turians in disbelief. "You can start looting the arsenal. And bring something for our victim."

Rex shook his head in surprise.

"Did you manage to capture Saren?"

I shrugged my shoulders.

"What do you think?" I met the Krogan's gaze. "With a bare ass and a knife in your hands, storm a perfectly defended fortress full of enemies, capture and steal its owner on his own ship... What are you talking about, Rex?" When I saw the fading light in his eyes, I added:

"That's the order of the day!"

Pressley choked, and Rex grunted and boomed:

"Shepard, you're crazy."

"I know!"

"I feel sorry for Krayz." Garrus muttered.

"Who's talking about what, and Vakarian's talking about guns." Nihlus from the arsenal neighed. "Don't forget to take your armor! Rin, should I take yours?"

"Yes, take two and take them to Kratos."

"Captain, will you not be returning to the Normandy?" The XO asked.

"No, I'm staying on the corvette. We'll take two ships to the Citadel." I met the attentive gaze of gray eyes. "While I'm away, you're the acting captain."

Leaving him to digest the news, I rushed to my cabin and changed my clothes. After grabbing a couple of changes of clothes and my drone, I looked into the infirmary. It's time to finish messing with Benezia. We can get to the Citadel in time. Then it won't be up to her.

We swept through the Normandy like a tsunami wave, collecting everything we needed for the flight. In principle, we don't have long to fly - two days if we hurry, or three if we go at a standard cruising speed without violence to the engines. The frigate will lag behind for at least a day, maybe two, but experimental equipment is experimental equipment, and there are more than enough problems from it. But there's no reason for me to hurry: I have Benezia and a barely alive Saren in my arms, whom I shouldn't show Sparatus in this form. And he has nothing to do on the "Norm" until the treatment is over, otherwise how will I explain my tricks? Damn, there are so many problems out of nowhere!

A sneaky thought flashed by. Maybe it's true to return Normandy to the Alliance? Reality is already flexible enough to accept such blatant violations of history. The situation with Saren alone significantly shook the Branch, even though he ended his life in full accordance with the demands of the World: he regained his sight and, after realizing the situation, put a bullet in his head. It wasn't his fault that he couldn't die. It's not his fault that he never made it to the Citadel-it's not his thread of fate, but Nazara's. He finished his own as expected and jumped off the hook of events.

With such thoughts, I stood and considered the matriarch, deciding the question of universal importance: should I take Liara and Rex to Kratos or not? I don't really need a Krogan there, but I don't need to leave it on the "Norm" either. And you can be happy with the news... Liara can look after her mother, since she practically does not leave her anyway. At the same time, it will occupy the matriarch with something useful, so that she does not interfere with us.

"Liara, pack everything you need for a five-day flight for yourself and your mother." And switch to Kratos.

The girl nodded and ran off to get ready, and I took the unresponsive Benezia by the hand and led her. As I was getting off the ramp, Rex called out to me:

"Shepard."

"Urdnot?" I stopped, looking at the bored Krogan with interest. Rex took my hint and chuckled.

"I'm flying with you."

"Boring?"

"I don't like your carriage." The Krogan replied honestly.

"He's not mine. It was attached to this ship."

Rex nodded understandingly.

"Is the past not ready to let you go, Irene?"

"It will never voluntarily let go." I grinned at him. "You have five minutes, Rex. Don't forget to bring provisions for a decade."

The Krogan was surprised.

"It's a maximum of three days to the Citadel on such a ship."

"But we're not in a hurry." I grinned at him. "There are only dextro products on Kratos. I don't really care, but we can't feed you with neutral rations."

Rex grinned knowingly and left to get ready, and I took Benezia to the corvette's infirmary and left her sitting on a chair.

Packing and moving were completed quickly, and only Krogan had to wait while Sebastian collected his grub. Rex turned out to be no fool to devour, and on the basis of food he found a common language with Sebastian. They have a complete idyll and understanding: the cook cooks deliciously and a lot, and Rex eats it all with pleasure, not forgetting to please the master with a kind word. However, food warehouses were going bankrupt at a cosmic rate. Oh well, the Alliance won't be impoverished by feeding one voracious Krogan.

While waiting for the loading to finish, I sat in the copilot's seat, and Garrus, standing behind me, ran his hands through his hair and slowly rolled the strands between his fingers. I didn't stop him from enjoying such a small thing, idly watching the milling crowd. Liara resumed her post in the infirmary, though now her attention was more focused on the only patient. The sight of Saren made an indelible impression on the girl! That's how she froze and stared at the bloody body. Tali ignored the arrival and departure from the planet, enjoying the opportunity to live without a completely worn-out spacesuit. We gave the Quarian one entire cabin. Let him be happy. The girl appreciated this gesture and quickly adapted the room to her needs. Saren's own cabin was occupied by me and the Turians, giving the rest to Liara and Benezia when the matriarch finishes her treatment and remains sane and sober. It remains to decide where to settle the Krogan.

Nihlus came into the control room, appreciated the blissful physiognomy of his kinsman.

"Taking advantage of the opportunity?"

I tilted my head back, peering into crystal-light blue, slightly unfocused eyes. Garrus just twitched his mandibles, squinted at the Nihlus pilot who sat down in the seat.

"And why not?" A vibrant voice purred in my ear. "You won't fit in the Normandy again." A heavy head leaned against my shoulder, hot breath blowing over me. "You know, Rin, I'm starting to hate this frigate."

"I know." I closed my eyes, enjoying his emotions. "Me too."

The engines started up, reverberating slightly through the hull. On the viewing screen, the mountain range dropped sharply down, giving way to an azure sky.

"The Kratos of Normandy." Nihlus has switched communication protocols. "Joker, don't wait for us."

"Got it."

The corvette broke out of the gravity well, made a turn and headed for the distant repeater, however, without reaching full cruising speed. About four minutes later, the Normandy raced past us defiantly, and the Joker's voice said sarcastically:

"Don't fall too far behind there! Over and out, Kratos."

Nihlus smiled predatorily, but did not respond to the Joker's teasing, naively believing that his bird is the fastest ship in the Galaxy.

"How slow should we fly?" Nihlus asked.

"Six days to go?" I asked.

"Even for a month. If necessary, we'll accelerate."

"A month is too much. Sparatus will not forgive us for such malicious neglect of our duties."

"Are you talking about his habit of having fun at our expense?" Garrus asked, biting the skin on my neck.

"Exactly."

The light blue-eyed Turian twitched his mandibles in displeasure, snorting at my neck.

"I can't understand why we attracted him so much. There are quite a lot of spectr on the Citadel."

"A lot." Nihlus agreed. "But we managed to stand out on all fronts."

"Explain it."

Garrus suddenly deftly pulled me out of the chair, suppressing an indignant squeak with a hard kiss, sat down on a heated seat and sat me on his lap.

"The audacity." I muttered, getting comfortable.

"Undoubtedly." Garrus licked my cheek. "But it's more convenient this way.

"To whom?"

"For me."

I glanced sideways at his perfectly satisfied face, but said nothing. Let him have fun if he wants to, especially since it's also comfortable on his lap: Garrus hasn't worn armor on a ship for quite some time.

"So how did the advisor like us?"

"Our company is unusual." Nihlus shrugged his shoulders. "Irene is the first human Spectre, who, as it turns out, is not human at all. And it doesn't behave the way it's supposed to. You're a very famous person.

"What am I famous for?" Garrus was genuinely surprised.

"The entire Spectr's Turian Corps has been watching you for six years, reporting your every escapade on the Citadel to Sparatus. There are not many candidates, and everyone quickly becomes known. You've been throwing a lot of work at us, since you haven't been sitting still and managed to get the entire shadow world of the station in two years. Some Spectr's even had a sweepstake."

"Are they going to get killed or not?"

"Yeah," Nihlus replied serenely. "I was betting that you would live to see the appointment. Some people did not believe that this would ever happen." seeing the uncomprehending look, he explained. Candidates are usually monitored for a year. Well, two at most. In your case, six years."

"What's Sparatus's interest in this?"

"Judge for yourself. I am a student of Saren Arterius, who is widely known for his attitude towards people, and, at the same time, I am the curator of the Human Spectr. But after the first joint mission, they bring me back in the form of a corpse, and even with the news of Saren's betrayal. Then Rin contacts you immediately after the Council meeting. And the two of you do the impossible in a couple of hours - you find dirt on Saren. Not that a simple audio recording was enough to charge such a Spectr. The fact itself is important."

"So Saren hasn't been stripped of his Spectr status?"

"Garrus, the Spectr status only loses in case of death. No one will ever know about our internal problems. A mutinous Spectr is always followed by another Spectr, which either returns it back to the Corps, or destroys it, or helps complete the task if the mutiny is part of the legend of the introduction. And nothing else. The fact that the Council made a demonstrative excommunication of Saren in front of people is, by and large, a show-off that has no force. I was supposed to pass sentence on him." Nihlus said dully.

"And while we were catching him, Saren continued to use all his powers?" Garrus asked in surprise.

"Yes, there have been cases of alleged betrayal more than once, when the Spectr worked for some kind of group or planetary government." Nihlus sighed. "The galaxy must not know that the Spectr can betray. This undermines the very idea of the Special Corps as a loyal arm of the Council. Officially, there have NEVER been any traitors among us and there never will be. It's just that some operatives suddenly die due to their own negligence."

"I didn't know."

"No one knows." Nihlus shrugged his shoulders. "Apart from joining the Special Corps, the three of us work together. Quite independently, without orders. It's not that couples or threesomes are so rare, no, but it's extremely rare for such groups to gather almost immediately after an appointment. We also distinguished ourselves by finding a great mission for ourselves even before the group was fully formed. It's mostly because of us that you, Garrus, suddenly became a Spectr. Sparatus took advantage of the opportunity and swept away a promising candidate without even bothering to inform him. This is the first time I've heard of it, by the way."

"Did our mission play a role further?"

"Yes. In itself, the task of getting Saren back is no longer so simple. When information about the Reapers and the likely future invasion began to surface, we instantly became a First-Rank team." Seeing the misunderstanding in our eyes, Nihlus explained: "Our task has an absolute priority. We report EXCLUSIVELY to Sparatus, who took personal control of the mission. We can use any forces, any resources, any means to achieve the task, and no one has the right to refuse us until the priority of the First Rank is removed. At the same time, we are newbies. Even me. But time after time, upon returning to the Citadel, we bring information that then makes the entire Special Corps feverish."

"Even so?" I sat up in surprise, sitting sideways on Garrus' lap so I could see Nihlus.

"Our recent arrival at the Citadel with Queen Rachni has shaken up the entire Hierarchy and the Special Corps. Sparatus gave the Noveria operatives a hard time for missing Rachni's rebirth, and the adviser wasn't impressed with excuses like "Saren also worked there!" Nihlus chuckled. "Now the queen is a vassal of the Hierarchy. In fact, we brought a new, submissive race and presented it in a gift box. You, Rin, provided the preliminary negotiations, actually doing all the preparatory work. The most impressive thing is that this is just a side effect of our visit to Noveria. Each of our reports from Sparatus shakes up the Citadel Space. So is it any wonder that he is so looking forward to our return?"

Meeting the confused gaze of blue eyes, I barely whispered:

"I have never considered our activities from this perspective... But it's true..."

"In addition, Sparatus gets a purely moral pleasure from reading reports about our parties, Pallin's screams in the morning and..."

"Our faces during an inconvenient call." I finished. "Yeah. Now his intense interest is understandable. But I perceive it as a routine routine. Well, we flew to Noveria for the coordinates of the Saren base... Just think, they brought the matriarch and the queen with them... During the flight, you somehow stop perceiving what happened as something extraordinary."

"It looks different from the outside." Nihlus agreed. "Rin, we're the only First-rank team in the last thousand years! We are being watched not only by the Council and the Special Corps, but also by the government. Do you understand the range of interests we find ourselves in?"

I felt sick. Of course you don't understand!

"Benezia and Saren need to be put back on their feet urgently."

Nihlus choked on this change of topic.

"Benezia is a politician with vast experience."

"The Council and Sparatus personally cover for us, don't worry. No one ever touches the First-Rank team during work. This rule is strictly observed by all those in power, without exception. If necessary, we will be shielded from unnecessary attention so that we are not distracted from our immediate work. The essence of our mission has already been communicated to all the rulers, as well as the level of threat hanging over the Galaxy."

"How do you know all this?"

"My colleagues were curious about how we managed to stir up the Galaxy so much. Well, they leaked some information." Nihlus smiled. "As a matter of priority, the Republic and the Hierarchy have shaken up all archives and ANY rumors about the development of alternative methods of interstellar travel. As far as I understand, the Salarians have collected the color of the race's scientific potential and sent it to the Hierarchy."

"Is all the work done in a Hierarchy?"

"Such work has always been carried out in a Hierarchy." Nihlus shrugged his shoulders. "A military state has its advantages."

"And no one is touching or tugging at us?"

"Exactly. So we can work calmly and in a way that is convenient for us."

"At least something good."

The conversation somehow faded away by itself, and I was half-lying on Garrus's lap and thinking about the situation, happily nuzzling his collarbone under the small protrusions of the bone collar. His strong arms felt pleasantly heavy on my back, pressing me against his chest. Nice and comfortable. I don't want to go to the Normandy. You can't just sit there...

The situation described by Nihlus was unexpected, but logical. I didn't expect such nonsense, which was shown in the canon story, nevertheless, real politicians are far from idiots. But the true scope impressed me. It feels like we're in the eye of a hurricane, in a tiny patch of calm, and a vortex of events that we initiated is swirling around us. But there will be even more shocking information later... take only Ilos and the Protean repeater...

Sparatus definitely won't be disappointed...

***

Liara looked into the control room.

"Nihlus, where's Irene?"

Instead of answering, I raised my hand, drawing the Asari's attention.

"I'm here."

Garrus relaxed his arms a little, giving me a chance to look over the back of the chair. My reward was Liara's absolutely stunned face, staring at me in complete amazement.

"Oh! It's not a good time..." The girl's cheeks darkened and turned a little pink.

"Yes, everything is fine. What happened?"

"Rex asks for permission to stay in the hold."

"Didn't he find another better place on the corvette?" I asked skeptically.

"I like it there." Rex boomed from behind Liara, easily moving the squeaking Asari out of his way.

"If you like, make yourself comfortable." I waved it off. "I don't think Saren will mind."

Liara choked on her breath.

"Is this his ship?"

"Yeah," I replied serenely.

Rex took a close look at our still life, looked at Nihlus, looked at the calm face and serene green eyes, quickly calculated something and chuckled. Then he turned to leave. And then it suddenly dawned on me:

"Oh, Rex! I forgot to tell you. The hierarchy has initiated hearings on the cancellation of the genophage's sanction."

Rex almost stumbled over the news.

"What?" the Krogan whirled around.

"Sparatus reported. One of our secondary tasks is to find a cure for the genophage. Well, or those who can do it. That's right, maybe you'll be interested."

Rex pushed Liara aside, walked over to our chair, and leaned over my face, completely ignoring Garrus' displeased growl.

"This is not a joke!"

"I'm not kidding." I shrugged my shoulders. "Saren, by the way, riveted an army of Krogan on Vermire, and he kind of made a cure. When he wakes up, he'll tell you more."

There really was a cure: Arterius had a memory of the end of his testing, which flashed by casually when he handed me his drone. I suppose the data on the drug is even stored in a modest bracelet on my arm.

Rex slowly straightened up, staring at me intently. I was warm and comfortable lying in Garrus' arms, and the Krogan's gloomy face didn't give a damn. Rex noticed this, of course, and I didn't aim to hide my happy and contented face in any way.

"You say Saren made the medicine."

"Yeah. At least his Krogan are perfectly healthy."

"And you decided to tell me?"

"Aren't you interested in that?" I asked in surprise, staring intently into the narrowed red eyes.

"Interesting." A calm reply, delivered in a low, husky voice. "But what's your interest?"

"I've accepted you into my squad. Even at your insistent suggestion."

Rex chuckled at my words, shaking his massive head slightly.

"And?"

"And nothing supernatural, Rex. You're part of an extremely narrow definition of `your own.'" The red eyes widened slightly. "I didn't give a damn about the Krogan problems before. But then someone stubbornly got into my little squad and took their place in my middle circle." Rex squinted at my serene and completely content face. "And this someone cares deeply about his people, even if he defiantly drips poison on degenerates of his own kind. Since that happened, I've reconsidered my opinion of your race." I waved my hand vaguely. "It's as simple as the corner of a barn."

"Aren't you afraid of making a mistake?"

"Is that what you're telling an empathic mentalist?" I asked ironically.

There was no need to explain the meaning of these words to Rex. There is a slight irony in the emotions... bright, drowning out distrust, suspicion and caution, hope. No, the HOPE is that his race will have a future again. The Krogan didn't care at all about the possibility of losing the privacy of his thoughts. An amazing creature!

"I believe you, Irene."

"This... Good."

The Krogan snorted.

"You know how to please, Rin." Rex straightened up. "The future of my race is lying in the infirmary in the form of a skinned body."

"Don't, Rex!" I was genuinely indignant. "Far from being skinned, but very much whole! And quite alive!"

"Has it been worse?" Krogan boomed ironically.

"There was a `assemble yourself' mosaic." I looked into the red eyes and pushed the vision to him.

Rex blinked, squinted in surprise, realized what he had seen.

"Perhaps I find it difficult to imagine what you have done to him to bring him to such a state. If we exclude torture and the desire to deliberately mutilate."

"They've taken away everything unnecessary, Rex." I met a hard look. "You didn't think that you could get into the sphere of interests of a creature as ancient as dirt itself and not pay for it in any way?"

"I guess not."

"Saren stumbled into the Lord like no one else, not even knowing WHAT he was messing with. The result turned out to be... enough..." I stammered, not knowing how to characterize this very result.

"Don't pick your words." Rex raised his hand. "I understood. Our enemy is not Saren, but the one who hid behind his back."

"Yes... And you will have the opportunity to look at such a creature. Practically dead. But still dangerous. If you wish."

In response, a sharp, penetrating look. Rex is faaar from being a fool, and he understood the hidden sentence perfectly.

"With pleasure." Rex turned and walked heavily towards the exit. Already at the very door of the control room, he turned and asked: "How ancient is our enemy?"

"The one I'm offering you to look at is thirty-seven."

"Thousands?" Krogan asked skeptically.

"Millions, Rex. Thirty-seven million years old for this particular thing. Maybe more."

Short-term stupor and... rising excitement.

"I think I'll reconsider my opinion about Spectr Arterius." Rex said dryly and left the control room.

That's it, Rex! Now you're all ours! You will never give up the medicine. This is not a game, and for the mighty Krogan, the interests of the race are ALWAYS a priority. Even if he has to step over himself and his principles to save the race, he will do it. Even if he despises himself later. And I just gave him hope and filled his life with new meaning. Moreover, so that he does not have to twist and bend himself over his knee. Rex is an adult man, he has been living for hundreds of years, and he perfectly understood what gift I gave him and WHAT I offered with the direct permission of Sparatus.

I have no doubt for a moment that the Hierarchy of the Union will put the squeeze on and push through the necessary decision, ignoring any resistance and discontent of the dalatres. The Turians understood the war with the Krogan and the way to end it quite correctly, and they drew conclusions. The image of knights without fear and reproach, standing guard over peace in the Galaxy, did not arise for a reason.

Damn it! Rex, the brute, killed all the good mood!

"Garrus, would you put me on my feet, please?"

The Turian turned around with the chair, giving me the opportunity to get up from his lap.

"It's time to finish Matriarch Benezia's treatment. And so, I tightened it."

"Is there much more fuss?"

"Take down the bookmarks and put the shields back in place. The defense of the mind is almost completely destroyed. The Overlord does not spare his victims."

"I've noticed it already." Garrus nodded in agreement.

Liara listened attentively, and made her conclusions, but did not voice them. She just watched me carefully, looking from Garrus to Nihlus.

"Liara, let's go."

The girl nodded and followed me out of the control room. We walked to the infirmary in silence, preoccupied with our own thoughts. It is generally very quiet on the Kratos, and only a measured, barely audible rumble constantly accompanies the journey. The Normandy, literally bustling with life, after the silence and tranquility of the corvette caused a dull irritation, despite the fact that I even began to get a little attached to it. The specifics of my gift had a small side effect: I dislike large groups of sentients, preferring the company of my inner circle. Kratos suits me better than the noisy, crowded Normandy.

The infirmary greeted us with the beeping of life support equipment and the heavy smell of blood, which the air purification system and ventilation could not defeat. Liara followed me like a shadow, silently, deep in thought about something. I didn't find out about what. He'll tell you if he wants to. Sitting across from Benezia, I put her in a trance state and slipped into her mind.

The passage of time had a good effect on her mind: the consequences of the rude intrusion were slowly fading away, some of the bookmarks, unsupported and unused by the sleeping mind, fell apart on their own and saved me from unnecessary work. Now, with a fully active gift, uprooting all this filth will require much less effort and time, and you can start removing key bookmarks, and not as before, from the lowest and most insignificant ones.

I immersed myself in my work, watching Liara's behavior out of the corner of my mind. Azari wandered around the infirmary a bit, tried to ask something, but when she saw my completely blank face, she fell behind, taking her usual place next to her mother again.

The bookmarks, which had already been eroded by the gradually strengthening and unfolding protection of the mind, gave up quite easily, although they required increased attention and accuracy. But this is always the case: control nodes, points of contact with the victim's mind, with its associative connections and memories, links to other bookmarks and the emotional sphere are monitored. It's a delicate piece of work that reminds me of untangling a tangle of colorful and fragile yarn that cannot be damaged. But if I put in a little more effort, the unstable chains will crumble, the memories will lose their order, and the mind will become unstable until the damage naturally recovers.

Whoever created the submission matrix provided for almost everything, not giving the victim any chance to escape in direct contact with the Anchor. But once you remove the very concept of Anchors, the whole delightfully finely crafted structure collapses and falls apart, leaving only minor unpleasant consequences, which I removed.

When I finished putting away my bookmarks, the Kratos had already passed the repeater and was flying on autopilot through the tunnel. Garrus was sitting on the cot behind me, carefully hugging my shoulders, Nihlus was standing over Saren and staring intently at the face disfigured by the extraction of nanites and pins. Liara was dozing on her cot, carefully covered with a thin blanket. Rex was crunching some food by the door, reading something from a datapad and grumbling with displeasure, stirring up a mental irritation and anger intertwined with irony, sarcasm and a share of unhealthy interest.

I rolled my shoulders, flexing my slightly stiff muscles, and blinked. His strong arms tightened, wrapping me in a full-fledged hug, and Garrus rubbed his cheek against the top of my head, snorting faintly into my hair.

"Are you done?"

A quiet, vibrating voice caught my attention: Nihlus moved away from his mentor and approached me. Rex stopped reading, and Liara, muttering sleepily, woke up, blinking her eyes absently.

"Yes, Rex, let me chew."

The Krogan silently slammed the box shut and tossed it to Nihlus. The Turian caught it, opened it, and handed it to me. What's there? Fried meat cut into thin strips, obviously cooked by Sebastian.

"What's wrong with my mom?" Liara asked quietly.

"The mind is already clear." I popped a strip into my mouth, chewed with pleasure, and swallowed. "All that remains is to raise the protection and you can wake up. But this can only be done after a day."

"Why?"

"After a set of mental bookmarks, the mind is vulnerable. It will take just a day for him to lose his excessive sensitivity and receptivity."

"Will there be any consequences?" Rex asked.

"If you don't touch it these days, no. So I'm asking everyone to get out and not enter the infirmary without my permission. And yes, Liara, your mother does not need nutrition, because I support her with my vital energy. When she regains consciousness is another matter."

The sentients left the infirmary without a single squeak, meeting a bored Tali in the hallway. Rex just grinned ironically, seeing me emptying the box with a happy face.

"Sebastian is a real magician!" I swallowed the last strip and quite rudely licked my fingers.

"I agree with you." Rex chuckled. "What are our plans?"

We went into the recreation area, which is also the dining room, and sat around a large table, which for some reason was octagonal.

"No plans for the near future. We'll walk to the Citadel as long as it takes me to treat Saren. I can't show Sparatus the `skinned body,' as you kindly called him. If I turn around, I'll reach it in five days. Well, a day to restore the body after such bullying. Maybe we can do it faster."

"What about his mind?" Nihlus asked quietly.

"Plowed over like a field after the explosion of a warehouse of grenades. If Benezia received only a strong program of submission, then Saren came under the personal influence of the Ruler, and spent a lot of time with him."

"Can you restore it?"

"I can. But, unlike Benezia, Saren will have to manage all this when he is conscious and has a clear understanding of what is happening."

"Why?"

"Because he broke the mental channel and submission on his own by sheer force of will!" I said. "With conscious help, recovery will be much faster and easier, and I won't have to do jewelry darning. Some things will have to be done, of course, in an unconscious state."

"But are there any chances?"

"The odds? Undoubtedly. He has a strong will. He will be able to piece the personality back together with my help. Without the joys of mental disorders."

"What should we do?" Rex asked curiously.

"Whatever you want." I replied kindly. "The main thing is, don't blow up Kratos and don't put pressure on my brain. Especially when I'm busy with work."

"Is it useless to ask how you do it?" Rex asked.

"Is that what it is?"

"How you treat Arterius."

"Body features and some knowledge."

"Human?" Liara was surprised.

"No."

Liara could only say:

"Oh!.."

Tali flashed with restrained interest, but Rex was not shy and clarified:

"So you're not human?"

"Nope."

"And who?"

"A metamorph." I raised my hand and deliberately slowly grew long curved black claws. "I'm actually a unique being. Don't ask me HOW I got here. I don't know."

"Appeared?"

"yeah."

Rex nodded slowly and boomed:

"I assumed you weren't from here."

"Where do such ideas come from?"

"The Alliance couldn't produce a trained Soul Healer. People don't even know about the existence of people like you." The Krogan shifted his heavy gaze to Liara. "I've heard that the Asari have someone like that, but they're nowhere near the true capabilities of a Healer."

Op-pa on... What interesting facts have suddenly surfaced...

"What makes you think I'm a Soul Healer?"

"I've been watching you work. I heard the words. Only a Healer can fix the damage done to the mind. You know exactly what you're doing. This is not a rescue based on instincts, but the work of an experienced craftsman who knows what he does and how he does it. You have received a complete and competent education. Not here."

"The logic is impeccable." I spread my hands.

"I don't care how or why you came into our world." Rex said calmly and steadily. "Your actions speak for you. I see what you're fighting for. I can see the decisions you're making. I see how you look at our world."

"How?" I asked with interest.

"As if it were your own home, without dividing it into states and species. And you're ready to defend this house." Rex inclined his head slightly. "I'm ready to stand by your side."

"Thank you, Rex. For..."

Rex waved it away.

"I get you. Don't explain the obvious to me." The Krogan chuckled. "I suppose the crested ones know?"

The Turians grinned in perfect sync. And well, exactly the same! Rex broke into a grin.

"I have no secrets from those who enter my inner circle." I smiled.

"Worthy." The red eyes looked at me with a slight malice. "I can understand your choice. As well as the reason you ran away from the Normandy."

Garrus looked a little embarrassed, which did not escape the eyes of others. Rex laughed out loud, and a moment later we were all laughing. Even Liara and Tali. The thin ice cracked and melted without a trace.

Rex is something! I didn't regret for a moment that I agreed to take him on board then. He's very intelligent, even though he tries to look like a phlegmatic blockhead. Then the conversation turned to meaningless chatter, and we no longer raised serious topics. Just friendly gatherings and conversations about nothing, which ended well after midnight, when we crept into the cabins.

Оставить комментарий © Copyright Nytare (galinasky1410@yandex.ru) Размещен: 09/10/2025, изменен: 19/06/2026. 932k. Статистика. Роман: Фанфик miscellaneous translations into English. kosmos. mass effect Иллюстрации/приложения: 8 шт. Скачать FB2		Ваша оценка:
Аннотация: Irene becomes Shepard and gets to know the characters of the first part. Friendship with Naylus and Garrus.

Nytare Rebirth The Mass Effect is old

Nytare
Rebirth The Mass Effect is old