"Oh, yes, it"s your job to keep track of where your investments have gone. The investments of the Turian Hierarchy have become a noose around the neck of humanity, Naylus." The commander of the landing crew and the senior assistant commander of the frigate spat out, as if hammering eight-inch nails into the Turian"s body. "We, the people, spent two weeks on a protocol "presentation" addressed to you personally, and in your person to the Citadel Council. And you were satisfied." Shepard brought up the texts of the reports Naylus had sent. "As you can see, even on an understaffed frigate, we humans have enough specialists who are able to crack the Spectrum cipher efficiently and, most importantly, quickly. Your functions, Naylus, according to secret instructions, include what in our human language is called betrayal, backstabbing and sabotage." New data flooded the plates of the turned-on screens. New screens flashed up, revealing new texts and tables with graphs.

Anderson, glaring at them, frankly did not understand where Shepard could get such information from, but he was in no hurry to ask yet, watching as the two-meter-tall Turian was crumpling in front of a table where two Earth officers were sitting. He hesitates and begins to realize that his lordly position has come to an end.

"You still don"t understand who you Turians and the Citadel Council are up against, Naylus. They didn"t understand," Shepard said. — Do you know what a "catalyst" is?

"A substance capable of turning a chemical reaction in a certain direction and contributing to the achievement of certain, pre-calculated results," Naylus rasped.

"Limited, but true. So that"s it, Naylus. You have encountered humanity as a catalyst for processes that are beyond your control, guidance, and understanding. We humans will not play by your rules, Naylus, after the humiliation you Turians have inflicted on us. We won"t. Don"t get your hopes up. And we"ll start with the fact that on our military and civilian ships, the status of Alien Spectr"s will be reduced to the status of a civilian with no authority other than basic physiology. Since, according to my data, there are not so many Spectr in the vastness of the Solar System now, we have already calculated them all and taken them under observation. And you, Naylus Kraik, we have deprived you of the main thing — communication."

"I have..."

"Oh, yes, there is an order from the Citadel Council." Shepard, without moving from his place, looked up at Naylus with a different look. Totally different. "An order to take away from us humans, found on a planet belonging to us, humanity, a Prothean lighthouse." Shepard was delighted to see how much the arrogant Turian twitched. "To take it away, because someone there, on the Citadel, or maybe somewhere further away and higher, decided that we humans were not old enough to have such information repositories on our territory. Because you, the Turian Hierarchy, as well as the other members of the Citadel Council, are terrified that you won"t be able to control how we use this information." The XO hesitated. "Yes, Naylus. It took us, the Earthlings, a long time to "break through" to you, the Old Races, to activate the repeater. We humans have a saying: "Even an unloaded gun can go off." At the most inopportune moment. To put it simply: a closed repeater can be opened. And you weren"t ready to activate it. Totally unprepared, Naylus Kraik. Should I tell you the names of those who decided that humans were not worthy of owning the rarest Prothean artifact?" Shepard placed the fingers of his right hand on the keyboard sensors of his omny-tool. We have more than just names. We have direct and irrefutable evidence. Well!"

"Not. We must," the Turian managed.

"But it started out so well," Shepard said mockingly. "The master-Spectr-Turian goes to the naval-army terran serfs to demand a report on the work done and information about the immediate and not so immediate plans. And him more than sure, no, him even convinced that the slaves will give him this information. Why, he, Naylus Kraik, is a Spectre, a celestial. An unsupervised being. I"ll beat up all the stupid people in one fell swoop. Mind you, Mind you, Naylus, I"m not getting personal yet. My commander already guesses that I have a lot of interesting things there. What I can say about you personally, Naylus Kraik." Shepard stiffened, braced himself. "So, are we going to continue playing the celestial? Or will you now quickly and silently return to your cabin and never again try to exceed the status of a disenfranchised civilian on a warship?"

"The cabin," Kraik said after a few seconds.

"You can go now, Naylus." Shepard lowered his gaze, felt the Turian slowly and obviously reluctantly turn his back to the Earth officers sitting at the table. "Remember that any attempt to harm us humans will be punished with all severity."

After waiting for the Turian to leave the deck, Shepard relaxed.:

"I"m sorry, Commander. But there was a direct need to drive this subject into a safe framework," Shepard said without looking at Anderson. "We have less than a quarter of an hour left before combat activation. To have this slug behind us means putting everything important, valuable and necessary for us humans at unjustified risk," he typed in a code on the keyboard of his omny-tool. "His cabin has already been cut off from any communication and information lines. There is a bathroom there, if he pretends to be an army soldier, let him endure the hardships of military service. If necessary, I"ll put him into a coma with an energy pulse."

Chapter 11. Fight with the Reaper.

Anderson's omny-tool came to life:

"Captain, the ship is at the point," Jeff Moro reported. "The engines are ready to jerk to the repeater. Engineer Adams guarantees that we will provide peak power in a long-term mode and will be able to work out the Eden Prime without any problems."

"Good." Anderson switched channels, activating the speakerphone. "Attention to all personnel. The ship is at the point. Switch the remote reconnaissance equipment to passive combat mode. Start scanning in passive mode. This is not an educational application. This is not an academic job. Activate the Forecast complex in combat mode.

After listening to a few short reports, Anderson leaned back in his chair. Then, tensing up, he abruptly stood up and walked around the table.

"Shepard, come to my cabin. We'll watch "passive" there. It is necessary to exclude the negative impact of shock information". He said, stopping next to the chair where the XO was still sitting.

"Yes, Captain." Shepard got up and walked away from the table.

Both officers entered the commander's cabin at the moment when the first data from passive long-range scanners appeared on the large wall screens. The mark of the giant ship shone like a red diamond.

"Damn, he's at the backup spaceport." Anderson said as he looked at the coordinate grid. Judging by the ground-based planetary sensors, it maintains its position. Communication from the planet is jammed. It really filters the traffic in full. The weapon is not activated.

"He doesn't need to use a weapon. This two-kilometer-long "shrimp" is a very good psychic weapon in itself. The spaceport is empty. Only corpses," Shepard said, increasing the resolution of the passive scan. And, by the way, here are the consequences of indoctrination," he pointed to some data in the table. "The brain activity of many people trapped in the "sphere" has the characteristics of external control with elements of suppression."

"We'll see." Anderson turned on the additional screens. "The Forecast complex confirms your conclusions, Shepard. Jeff," The commander looked up at the cabin ceiling, "turn on the disguise. To the operating mode."

"Yes, sir," the pilot replied.

The indicators confirming the activation of the systems flashed on the dashboards of the commander's cabin.

"I understand that this is stupid, but I really hope that the few reasonable people who are on board this ship" Anderson said, "they do not have access to optics or portholes. At this distance, it will be difficult to spot us with standard non-optical means. What's your plan, Shepherd?"

"We are approaching Eden Prime, Commander, and we are delivering a coordinated strike on the shrimp with the radiators of the planetary climate system, the energy accumulators of the spaceport closest to the landing site of the shrimp, and the weapons of the frigate. Then, if necessary, the frigate landing force takes this "shrimp" is storming, unable to actively resist under such "pressure", under its control. I think the attack of our ship will provide this shrimp with a couple of large holes in the hull." Shepard clarified. "At a pace. The main thing is speed and onslaught. I know there will be significant new destruction and casualties on Eden, but we either need to capture this ship. Or — destroy it." The XO briefly outlined his vision of the scenario.

Anderson thought for a few minutes, then stood up.

"Come on, Captain. Our place is on the bridge of the Normandy. We'll get the latest data there and begin the combat advance."

"I agree, Commander." Shepard let Anderson go ahead, left the cabin, followed the head of the crew into the CIC room and stood behind him on a pedestal near the Map. "Ready to work."

"Attention on the ship. This is the commander speaking." Anderson activated the speakerphone again. "You have all seen our main goal. We have two choices: capture this ship or destroy it. You can't let it take off. We can't let him open fire. We can't let him go. This is a scout. He is alone. And he has to be alone. You can't let him transmit any information to the outside. We have to do all this. We are intelligence. We understand and know better than others how to resist intelligence. And we'll do it." Anderson disconnected the connection, switched the Map to tactical control mode, calling up the Utopia area in three-dimensional space. "Jeff, in disguise, in the shadow of the container ship Letran, heading for the Citadel. Hide the ship in the shadow of the planet Xanadu. Be ready for a dash to planet Nirvana or a direct dash to Eden Prime. Do it!"

"Yes, Commander," the pilot replied.

* * *

The frigate moved out of position, disappeared behind the wide stern of the container ship, and moved away from the huge carrier at the right distance so that the repeater would not connect the two ships during the "transfer" together. A minute later, the Normandy entered a corridor punctured by an activated repeater.

"Three minutes, sir," Moro clarified over the audio channel of the commander's earpiece speaker. Letran is already preparing to launch. A decision, Commander. Are we going straight or are we going to Xanadu?"

"Straight up, Jeff. Straight" Anderson said, rechecking the data coming from the Forecast complex on separate Map screens.

"Yes, Commander," the pilot cut the channel.

"Ingvar, Bill," Anderson called an electronic warfare specialist and a senior gunner for a conference call. "All the ship's weapons systems are in combat operational mode. Ingvar, you have the first violin. Make this ship crash and disconnect! I repeat: crash and disconnect! Do whatever you want with the infrastructure and weather of the planet, but the ship must be immobilized and disarmed! All the data on its capabilities that we have managed to collect has been forwarded to you."

"I understand, Commander. Ready." Ingvar, who entered the "combat" mode, began to speak in chopped phrases. "The data is entered into the system. Ready for a coordinated strike. Bill?"

"All the frigate's weapons are ready, Commander." The senior gunner reported on the audio channel. "The main emitter of this creature is in the sight of the main ship's caliber."

"Jeff," Anderson called the pilot.

"Ready, Commander. While we're heading towards the planet at full speed, Ingvar will do enough to keep the shrimp from leaving. And Bill will subdue her attempts to resist."

"Here we go!" Anderson said abruptly.

The frigate broke out of the repeater, passed by the hulking container ship and, gaining speed, rushed towards the planet, entering its orbit at the maximum allowable angle.

"Commander, the ship is over the planet," Moro reported. "I'm watching our first coordinated attack on a guest. The shrimp is staggering. She obviously doesn't like it, but take off... The gods! She can't take off! Ingvar, I owe you!" Jeff put the Normandy on an attacking course. "Bill, I'll be at the firing point in thirty seconds. Point!" Moro exclaimed.

The frigate's impact was terrifying. Enveloped in bursts of radiation generated in emergency modes by dozens of energy storage facilities, weather stations and radiators closest to the giant's parking lot, the two-kilometer alien ship trembled, trying to break the growing cocoon.

Everyone who was on board the Normandy and many who were on the planet saw, both on the screens and through the portholes, and with their own eyes, how the shrimp was trying to open the huge doors of the armored shutters above its main radiator.

At the moment when the first blood-red spark flashed deep in the black mouth of the radiator, indicating the activation of the pumping system, a volley of charges from the main guns of the reconnaissance frigate, the Tanix, hit the lens, followed two seconds later by a second, and then a third. All the crew members of the Normandy saw on the screens how, at the moment of the three hits, the voltage on the energy circuits increased, enveloping the uninvited guest with their tentacles.

The alien giant staggered even more, began to tilt, and at that moment Bill fired three volleys into the shrimps' tentacles, causing the alien's armor plates to bend at impossible angles, crumbling drives and shorting power circuits. Several significant holes were formed in the giant's body.

All this happened at the maximum allowable distances between the ships. Jeff even held the Normandy's slide towards the giant a little. At this moment of the ships' approach, Bill surpassed himself: he managed to organize and carry out a third approach in ten seconds: three additional volleys, the force of which proved unbearable for the alien.

To the bass hum of growing energy fields, to the screech of metal structures straining and bending under radiation, to the moan of lasers from the oncoming frigate, the shrimp jerked all four paws and collapsed onto the structures of the monorail leading to the backup spaceport.

The contact with the live parts of the Monorail led to additional damage, finishing off the alien ship's systems.

The Normandy swept over the receding giant from the tentacles to the top, turned around, flew to the tentacles, turned around and froze, taking the shrimp under the sights of the main caliber guns and the SEARCH system lasers.