Rebirth: The Mass Effect. Book 1

So, this is definitely not Alyonka. This... Oh, that...

"Corporal Jenkins, ma'am!" it body confirmed my conclusions.

"Corporal, I'm in command of a full-strength landing team, and you're not part of it." I replied calmly.

"Captain Anderson said that I will participate in the landing with you on Eden Prime! Ma'am!"

What will it be? No, no, no, I don't need that kind of happiness!!! I have a normal landing party!

I'm somewhat disappointed by this prospect... She was taken aback, and the corporal with the meaningful name continued to spill like a potion that had escaped from a cauldron:

"I come from Eden Prime! I can't wait for us to land on the planet! I'm itching for the real deal!"

And my hands itch to bury this miracle in the metal floor of the ship and say that it has always been like this! But the exalted brat with hero syndrome wasn't enough for a combat mission!

As if confirming all my fears, it body gave out:

"I'm sorry, Commander, but I'm going to die from waiting! This is the first time I've had such a task! And the Spectr is on board!"

I already sympathize with the Spectr. And myself, too. I've never seen more of the Spectr in my life. At this rate, I can only see him in the hold before landing!

"The Corporal!" I interrupted Jenkins' verbal diarrhea. "Don't rush to become heroes, do your job, follow orders and there won't be any problems."

"That's easy for you to say, ma'am." the guy got upset. "You've proved yourself on the Torfan. Everyone knows what you are capable of!"

It's good that NO ONE knows what I'm capable of! And it's a good thing I wasn't on that Torfan!

"For me, this is a chance to show my superiors what I'm capable of!" The brave soldier persisted.

You can die stupidly! The corporal opened his mouth to continue talking, and I realized that if he didn't just shut up, I would kill him myself, and the as yet unknown Nihlus Kraik would have to look for another candidate! The Corporal! I was glad to meet you. You can be free. And I pushed aside the stunned body and walked quickly to the command deck.

Chapter 1.2. Speak with Spectr

A tall Turian man was waiting for me in the briefing room. Well hello, Spectr Nihlus Kraik. Let's see what you're like in reality.

I hope this conversation will give me an opportunity to evaluate you and make a decision. I'm going to save your life if Imrir Shepard made a mistake in her assessment, or I'm going to let the story run its course if she was right and you really are the arrogant, frostbitten bastard everyone on the ship thinks you are.

Stopping at the entrance to the hall, I leaned against the wall, carefully studying the Turian standing with his back to me. I have only one opportunity to form an opinion about this reasonable: a short conversation before landing on the ill-fated Eden Prime until Captain Anderson arrives in the briefing room. Let's see what I can learn in that time. Right now, mentalism is not available to me, and I will have to evaluate it the old-fashioned way.

As soon as I started analyzing, the recipient's memory immediately unleashed a wave of negativity and suspicion towards the Spectr, which suddenly found itself on board an experimental ship with some kind of incomprehensible task. In principle, I can understand the girl: Nihlus' appearance is extremely exotic for a person who has never seen a Turian in person, he holds himself with a degree of arrogance and coldness, cutting off any possibility of contact, and the hot-tempered Shepard, following xenophobia and the memory of the recent conflict, openly disliked the powerful stranger, although she observed strict polite neutrality.

What do I know about this man? Nihlus Kraik, a friend or student of my imaginary enemy Saren Arterius. He is practical, cruel, and merciless, although he does not reach Arterius either in cruelty or in this very ruthlessness. He treats people with cautious benevolence. According to him, he nominated my recipient as a candidate to join the Special Corps. He'll die on Eden Prime, shot in the back of the head by Saren.

Or he won't die.

Two intelligent people from my environment will die on this planet: Jenkins and Kraik. The first one catches a shot from a Geth drone, the second one catches the same thing from an admired mentor, whom he trusts infinitely. So limitless that he will turn his back in a militant and frankly alarming situation. Only one person can survive. It's elementary to save Jenkins, it's almost impossible to save Kraik, but their influence on events directly depends on the static fate. Corporal Leeroy Jenkins is a young soldier eager to prove himself and earn fame, heroic, dangerous with his enthusiasm and complete lack of experience. It's completely useless to me. Nihlus Kraik is a Board member with extensive experience and huge connections, my direct supervisor, who will have to prepare me as a full-fledged Spectr. It's not difficult to make a choice if you turn a blind eye to the ethics of such a choice.

I could barely contain my laughter.

Ethics. The moral. Humanity. How quickly it all died in me, once I got into a second life. The caste-based religious patriarchal society quickly showed the naive me the true face of my native race and knocked out the enthusiasm of *hitting*.

It was a cruel lesson, but it was very useful. I stood and stared at the alien's back. He noticed me. I couldn't help but notice. But he didn't turn around, looking at the holographic screen showing a living planet shrouded in a haze of clouds. He waited and gave me the opportunity to start the conversation first.

It's a healthy decision on his part. My recipient is a hot-tempered and somewhat suspicious person, and Nihlus' behavior smacked of arrogance and complete indifference to others, which wildly infuriated Imrir and caused hostility among other crew members. They didn't call him anything but *arrogant freak* on the ship. Funnily enough, Nihlus knew this perfectly well: Turians have surprisingly sensitive hearing, and he simply couldn't help but hear a whisper behind his back.

The restraint of the Spectr commanded respect.

Time is time.

It's time to get to know each other personally.

Detaching myself from the wall, I slowly approached the Turian, stopping a meter and a half away from him, without crossing the boundaries of my personal space. He turned around, bowed his head slightly in greeting. I responded in the same way, frankly surprising the alien, who did not expect anything like this from me.

"Commander Shepard." Nihlus's voice turned out to be low, deep, with a slight metallic tinge and a barely audible vibrating rumble, as if a huge cat was speaking. And why was the recipient so freaked out? A surprisingly pleasant voice. "It's good that you came first. We'll have a chance to talk."

I tilted my head to the side, looking with interest at the man slowly pacing in front of me. That's the first logical, expected difference between the real world and the game that gave rise to it.: no matter how living beings are described in canon history, no matter what appearance they are given, but nature will always do as IT deems necessary, and this rule has never been violated in any embodied reality, even in the craziest. Sometimes the appearance and physiology of living beings differed quite significantly from what was described, observing only a general similarity.

The example was pacing in front of me.

The Turian is a tall, about two meters tall, well-built humanoid. The figure is powerful, but surprisingly slender and flexible. A similar illusion was created by a thin waist, narrow hips and long strong legs, and the peculiarity of a cat's step: without full support on an elongated foot, wide and massive enough to easily support the weight of the body. There were no spikes from the calves. There was not even close to such insanity as in the canon: no disproportionately thin arms and club-footed legs with a tiny foot, an abnormally thin waist, a strange, um, attachment of legs to the hip bone, an incomprehensible hump and a barrel-shaped torso with a huge collar, violating the very concept of the center of gravity in relation to the figure of the unfortunate creature. Nature, unlike expensive game stores, shapes the physiology and appearance of living beings not only rationally and harmoniously, but also in full accordance with their lifestyle and habitat. Turians are predators formed in a world with high gravity and high radiation background. And the whole figure of the creature pacing around the circular room was the epitome of a predator! Aggressive, strong, flexible, agile and fast.

Unlike Imrir, I didn't dislike the Turian's appearance. It's a beautiful view. Predatory. Dangerous. The light grace of a wild beast, the smooth, honed movements of an experienced fighter, economical gestures, and the gaze of unrealistically bright green eyes, looking somewhat wary. The face with a hard cover of dark purple color with bright white patterns of the clan mark is moderately expressive. The harmony of the face and body perfectly fits the definition of *beautiful* and therefore for me the Turian did not get into the category of *freak*.

"We can talk." I easily agree. There is wariness and distrust in the green eyes. Nihlus understood and felt the crew's attitude to himself perfectly. And my recipient didn't really hide her dislike. Don't mind? The mandibles twitched nervously.

Reality wavered. A minor digression. The beginning of the stratification of the chain of events. The first sign of a Change and rejection of the Branch of reality reflected from the main tree of reality embodied. The history of such a universe does not like digressions... she will try to return events to the programmed course. Let's see what I can change in between the key points that can't be changed at all.

"No. Talking to an intelligent interlocutor is a pleasure that has been so rare lately. Especially if the topic does not affect the service."

The spectr understood my irony. He bowed his head slightly.

"You weren't like that the last time we talked... Friendly, Commander."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"Status and environment oblige. Who better to know this than you?" The man nodded, accepting this explanation and an unspoken apology for my recipient's behavior. The green eyes stared intently, hard and thoughtful.

That's wonderful. Listening to pretentious nonsense that the Spectrum itself doesn't believe in... why? It is much more useful to listen to what he is interested in, to find out his true motives and thoughts. Let's see HOW he opens up during this short conversation.

"What brings you aboard the Normandy, Spectr? No need to tell tales about testing a stealth system."

"You've already figured it out." — not a question, but a simple statement of fact.

"I hope I'm not stupid."

"Don't take my words as an insult." The Turian waved his hand in alarm.

Four-fingered. Another difference between a living being and an image created by the imagination of people. The Turian had four fingers on his hands, which, in principle, is logical from the point of view of banal physiology.

"I won't count it. And yet, Nihlus, what brings you to *Normandy*?" Anderson, who entered the round room, saved himself from having to answer a slippery question. With the man's first words, the story returned to its original tracks. I listened to him with half an ear, carefully watching the Turian standing next to me, forming his image. My eyes involuntarily clung to the little things that were so insignificant at first glance: small reflex gestures, the way he moved, the timbre of his voice, the fleur of his emotions that I vaguely felt, the expression of his surprisingly green eyes.

Anderson started talking about the mission to Eden Prime. Nihlus immediately tensed up. Her mandibles were pressed tightly against her cheeks, and her eyes were alert. Waiting for my reaction?

"What needs to be removed from the planet?" I asked calmly.

The captain answered me:

"During the excavations at Eden Prime, scientists found some kind of device. A Prothean beacon, I suppose."

I chuckled.

"How can you be sure that this is a lighthouse and not something else?"

The captain had no answer to this question, and he hesitated, not knowing what to say. The Turian's gaze turned puzzled. I was frankly falling out of the image that Spectr had managed to form during my time on board the ship, and this could not help but attract his attention.

Smart and observant. Good.

"Let's say it's a lighthouse, and let's say it's a Prothean." I watched the slightest expression of emotion on the Turian's face, trying to understand his reaction, which was greatly hampered by Imrir's complete lack of knowledge of facial expressions characteristic of this race.

"I understand your desire to get him off Eden Prime. As far as I know, there is no way to study such devices on this planet. Am I right in my assumptions?"

Anderson and Nihlus nodded simultaneously.

"Correct me if I'm wrong about anything. An artifact has been found on the planet that has remained operational. If it had been non-operational, there would have been no such hype." approval flashed in his green eyes for a split second, an echo of which I could catch with empathy that had just begun to show itself. "Presumably, it is a Prothean beacon with great potential value for all races living in Citadel Space. Since there is no way to examine the device or ensure its safety on Eden Prime, it was decided to take it out. I'll assume to the Citadel, from where he will go to the scientific laboratory, again presumably the Azarian one."

Nihlus nodded. Anderson said nothing, eyeing me suspiciously with a hard stare. He also noticed the oddities in my behavior, since he had the opportunity to communicate with my recipient. But how well did he know this charming scumbag? I'll find out in time, but for now, let's continue this entertaining conversation:

"With some doubts and a lot of assumptions, I can even believe that transporting a lighthouse is reason enough for one of the Council's most respected and well-known Spectr's to waste so much personal time."

Only a deaf person would not have heard the irony in my voice. Nihlus spread his mandibles in a slight smile, eerily similar to a carnivorous grin.

"You're perceptive, Commander Shepard."

"As I said before, I dare say I'm not stupid." My grin only made the Turian smile wider, revealing a palisade of sharp, wedge-shaped fangs. "So what is the REAL reason for your attention, Specter?"

"I want to see you in action, Shepard." He answered me, cocking his head slightly to one side.

"Is curiosity idle or has a practical interest?" I asked, stopping Anderson from making a pretentious speech about the Alliance.