Rebirth The Mass Effect is old. part 29-2

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.

"Yeas"

The bright light blue eyes closed, and rage hit my senses.

"Haw?"

"Nanites."