Rebirth The Mass Effect is old. part 10

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!