Rebirth The Mass Effect is old. part 25

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.