Rebirth: The Mass Effect. Book 1

Nihlus's gaze became completely unreadable, but the mandibles pressed tightly to his cheeks and clenched fingers showed that the Turian was in a quiet rage.

"At Imrir's. Mental problems?" he asked jerkily.

"She actually has it destroyed."

"She was repeatedly checked by psychologists of the Alliance." Chakwas said.

I looked at the ash-haired woman. How would it be more delicate to explain the depth of the problem?.. But, however, why be considerate? They want to know the truth, don't they? Well, they'll find out."

"Doctor, I can read these tests to you verbatim from memory with all the possible answers and their full transcription." I replied earnestly, and the doctor's eyes widened slightly in understanding of what was said. "Imrir has a good memory and she REALLY wanted to escape from her home planet."

"That's what she is... "

"filled them out from memory. And she ironically followed her chosen line of behavior, cutting off from herself anyone who might understand that everything was far from okay with her. Torfan broke her completely: the death of the fighters, who became the only family for Imrir, became the last grain of sand, the weight of which breaks the cable." I shifted my gaze to the Turian. "Nihlus. You have chosen a candidate for the Spectr with a broken psyche, who hates people and non-people equally, with progressive psychosis and incipient schizophrenia. Congratulations on that."

Nihlus fell into a stupor from this, just blinked in confusion, trying to digest the entertaining news. Well, he hadn't noticed the elephant. Just like everyone else. Imrir has really learned how to simulate the behavior of an adequate person. She's a smart girl, you can't say anything.

"This... suddenly." finally the doctor said, nervously clenching her fingers.

I shrugged my shoulders.

"If it comforts you, Imrir will live a happy life. The one I dreamed of. These are the laws of exchange."

"What. You will..." Nihlus stammered, slowly sucking in short, convulsive breaths.

"What am I going to do?"

He closed his eyes.

"That's what... to deal with the pile of problems we find ourselves in. I'm Imrir Shepard now, whether I like it or not."

"Don't you like it?" the doctor asked.

"And who would like to be on the edge of an escalating conflict? Doctor, I have a dead Spectre in my hands, killed by a legend of the Special Corps, a Geth attack on an Alliance colony, a huge ship that came from nowhere, leaving a half-kilometer fused bald spot after its launch."

"Spectr Kraik is alive."

"He's only alive because I've done everything possible for him. If I hadn't powered up the spaceport, it wouldn't have lasted until the ship arrived. The wound is fatal."

Nihlus nodded in agreement.

"What is your name?"

"Imrir." seeing the misunderstanding, I explained: "I don't remember the name given to me at birth in the zero life." A soft chuckle broke out by itself. "You don't think that this kind of existence remains without consequences, do you?"

"You say..." Chakwas paused.

"Do I have any mental problems? No. My mind is as stable as I need it to be." Seeing the question in her eyes, I explained: "Sometimes there are situations when, without some degree of madness, you can be guaranteed to lose your mind or reach a personality collapse."

Doubt shone brightly in the doctor's eyes. In my right mind and sober memory. And I can't even judge her. What I said is crazy and illogical. But... That's the truth, what can you do.

"Imrir," Kraik called out to me, barely audible.

"Yes?"

"Repeat it verbatim: `Blood...'"

Nihlus looked demanding, harsh, literally commanding.

Is it that important? Closing my eyes, I repeated what I had said:

"Blood is the moisture of life. The quintessence of it. Blood carries the life force and energy of a sentient being. It doesn't matter what its composition is or what the body's biochemistry is. This?"

Nihlus nodded, closed his eyes with satisfaction, and smiled slightly, spreading his mandibles.

"I believe it." shortness of breath.

Just like that? Do I believe?

"Why?"

"Turian. You speak clearly." There was a flicker of irony in the green eyes. "People. Can not."

Do I speak Turian? Turning off the translator on the instrument, I repeated a couple of phrases out loud, listening to the sound of the words. It's really not English. Harsh growling words with a strange, barely audible sub-harmony and vibration. The voice box could barely handle playback, but it did. Have minor changes in the body already begun? I really hope so.

"How is this possible?" Dr. Chakwas frowned. "Imrir Shepard was a human."

Shrugging my shoulders, I replied:

"The consequences of the transfer. Reality, accepting me, gives me the knowledge and abilities necessary for a full-fledged existence within its limits. I am an instrument of the universe. I am fulfilling the task assigned to me, whether I want to or not."

"And what is this task?"

"I'm sorry, Dr. Chakwas, but this... That's not the information I'm ready to share right now." I replied calmly.

Karin immediately understood the hint that I might change my mind over time. Yes, and Nihlus looked thoughtfully, rolling the prism of the jammer between his fingers.

"Why are you talking?" The Turian finally asked.

"What do you think, Nihlus, what are the chances of single-handedly changing the fate of the entire reality?"

The answer was an EXTREMELY expressive look.

"That's what I think. Without help, I can only lead her to her death, and it doesn't take much effort. It is enough to let events take their course."

"Change the fate of reality? Is this the task?"

"Rather, a solution path. Believe me, Dr. Chakwas, you will not like this fate. Unless, of course, you are eager to see the most devastating war in the history of human civilization, in which you will be defeated."

What I'm doing now is playing on the verge of a foul. Either I get the support of Kraick and Chakwas, or I have to... neutralize the results of your gullibility. As much as I hate this outcome, I don't want to risk their disbelief. Mentalism will soon begin to manifest itself. Enough to correct other people's memories.

I REALLY hope it doesn't come to that.

In principle, there are chances to get an ally. Nihlus is inclined to believe me. But why? Was he convinced by my ability to speak his native language? Or something else? Then I'll talk to my dear mentor. In private. In any case, he won't turn me in. He'd rather kill himself if I posed a threat than expose our shared failure to the public: him, as a mentor who made the wrong choice, and me, as a screwed-up candidate. But with the doctor, everything is much more complicated. She's in no hurry to believe. She wasn't too convinced by my words and the knowledge that came out of nowhere. It will be difficult to convince her, but... It's better to convince. I saw how reverently my fighters treat her. If I harm this woman, I will make some VERY unpleasant enemies.

I hope she doesn't disappoint me...

"Imrir, can you take one test?" Dr. Chakwas asked softly, handing me the datapad. "This is my personal development."

"Why not?"

I picked up my datapad, sat on my bunk, and took the test. Nihlus turned off his device for a while and closed his eyes. The Turian was breathing heavily, but gradually his breathing steadied. I slightly squeezed the power supply channel, and my handler instantly switched off. The devices immediately reacted to the change in the patient's condition and beeped faintly, attracting the doctor's attention.

"What is it?" Karin's gaze darted between the screens.

"It's time to sleep." I muttered under my breath, increasing the output of energy.

The indicators returned to normal, but Nihlus did not wake up: the fainting gradually turned into sleep. The doctor smiled out of the corners of her lips: the hint was understood and approved.

Commander, the test.

A test is a test...

* * *

The doctor was clearly on a roll when she did this freaking test! I spent more than two hours on it, trying to wade through hundreds of tricky questions with a bunch of hidden meanings in them. If I was still trying to analyze the first hundred and somehow think about the answers, then after the second one I wrote what came to mind, without really bothering to think about the result. May it burn with fire! You can't predict what's going to come out anyway. After setting up the last answer, I handed over the datapad.

"Doctor, I'm done."

Karin smiled, seeing my sidelong glance, took the device and immersed herself in reading my writing, and I was plunged into despondency from the realization of the situation. I've just been beautifully divorced and taken over. And I also voluntarily confessed.

On the other hand, what do I have to lose? I need the Doctor as an ally. Or at least not an enemy. She should know about my abilities. At least about the possibility of their existence, since he will witness their application in practice more than once. Unless, of course, I can somehow get rid of this damn ship! But I want to. Watching the doctor's impassive face and the barely perceptible flare of her emotions, my despondency deepened and deepened: it was too interesting a cocktail. And fun, and curiosity, and surprise, and misunderstanding, and outright stupefaction. I wonder what this reaction is about? I don't think I've written anything so criminal...

"That's a very interesting result, Commander," Chakwas finally said.

I don't even want to know the results from the tone in which it was said.

"Is it that bad?" I asked despondently.

"Well, why is that? I expected the worst." They smiled at me with a kind smile that sent chills down my spine.

"I am glad that I did not meet your worst expectations."

"Come on, Commander. Your results are extremely interesting. I don't see anything... the bad one. I'll expect you for an examination tomorrow at the same time."

"Can I go now?"

"Of course, Commander."

I was graciously shown the exit, making it clear that they would not give up YET.

Chapter 6.1 The Citadel

The five days of the flight were extremely monotonous: getting up early, doing my job as an amphibious squad commander, and hanging up. The only entertainment was short evening conversations with Dr. Chakwas and silent Nihlus. The Turian immediately realized who had turned it off and why, but reacted to this incident with irony. And why did Imrir dislike him so much? A normal, quite adequate man. With his exploits, of course, but there was no pathos and arrogance anywhere near.

Dr. Chakwas gave me the test results to read. To say that I was surprised is an understatement. The description turned out to be quite accurate, however, I was confused by the reaction of this lovely woman to this very characteristic: the doctor just smiled patronizingly and advised me to be more careful. And that's it!

I enjoyed talking with Dr. Chakwas. Karin is an extremely intelligent and well-read woman, and listening to her stories from her life, I learned a lot of new and funny things. The stories about biochemistry and physiology of the Soviet races smoothly jumped to stories from the active doctor's military past in order to return to medicine again. Nihlus was used without any mercy by Karin as a visual aid, although the Spectr did not mind at all, fascinated by the story.

The signal to exit the relay found me in the infirmary. The doctor was doing another checkup on my birthmark: changes in my body had already begun, and Karin categorically ordered me to come every day. There was no desire to disobey.

"Imrir, go take a look at the Citadel. As far as I know, you've never seen her before?"

"No, I haven't seen it."

"Look. She's impressive for the first time!"

I smiled. And really, why not go and see this miracle of the Reapers' design genius?

* * *

Listening to the conversation between Ashley and Kayden out of the corner of my ear, I stared at the huge station, which spread five petals of residential modules far away. A magnificent sight! This station is an ingenious creation, it shocked the imagination, caused awe... someone, but not me.

I disliked the Citadel at first sight. A shiny, pretty wobbler, a tasty 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, people have safely forgotten the thesis of free cheese, while 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 Kayden 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 rather cute Turian cruiser rustled by. The good mood was slowly but surely replaced by dull irritation. 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 men 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 Spectr's 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 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.