Rebirth The Mass Effect is old. part 27

I shook my head, but I didn't feel sorry for the bookmark I'd left.

"I didn't know."

"This is not advertised, but the Council monitors the Spectr very closely. Not for their actions, but for their mental state."

"Then it's all the more unclear how they missed Saren." I whispered.

"Saren could have been gone for years, sending only reports. Nihlus reluctantly admitted. — And when he appeared, he always behaved very restrained, cold and distant. I've always been introverted."

"They didn't keep up..."

"They didn't keep up." and a quiet, barely audible half-moan, half-growl...

Sparatus killed the whole mood to lie around, so we, swearing at the active and bored man, got up and went about our business. While Garrus and Nihlus were finishing cleaning the apartment, I cleaned up and contacted Pressley from the arsenal. The XO reported on the state of affairs, covertly ratted on Rex, who had brought a bunch of incomprehensible junk on board and nobly occupied the hold behind the Mako box, on Tali, who was jostling in the terribly secret engineering compartment and poking her curious nose everywhere. I reassured the XO, promising to deal with my colorful team. According to him, the loading has already been completed, the scheduled inspection is coming to an end, and the crew will return in three hours. Pressley calmed down a bit and switched off. And I dialed the Joker.

The pilot responded without delay. The window swung open, showing his bored face in the familiar surroundings of the control room.

"Rin", The Joker smiled, making it clear that there was no one else in the control room.

"Are you bored?"

"There are a few."

"Figure out the route to Vermaer."

"Omega Watch, the Hawk system?"

"Do you know another Vermaer?" I asked skeptically.

"The pilot laughed merrily. Nihlus looked into the armory, nodding to Jeff."

"The Nihlus spectr." the pilot greeted him.

The Turian chuckled, grinned ironically, which made Jeff pale slightly, and said in a soft, one might even say affectionate voice:

"The Joker..."

"Yes?" the pilot asked suspiciously.

"Thanks for the VERY fascinating reading..." the grin became predatory, the gaze of the green eyes became cold and hard. "I appreciated it."

The Joker abruptly turned pale and... hiccupped. Nihlus snorted a laugh and left the arsenal.

"He... Have you read... everything?" the pilot asked very quietly.

"They've BOTH read your entire joy book."

The Joker closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, exhaled, opened his eyes and stared at me with resignation.

"And they are..."

"They promised not to kill anyone. But I've never seen them so furious. Perhaps you should give the crew a hint that they should hold their tongues if they don't want their tongues pulled out. Literally."

"I get it, Rin," the Joker said seriously.

On this life-affirming note, I switched off. Let him get nervous. Maybe then he'll appreciate the depth of the situation we're in.

Time flew by completely unnoticed. An hour before the deadline, we left the apartment and boarded the Normandy forty minutes later. I just managed to inspect the ship, made sure everything I requested was delivered, received a report from the bataler and the XO, checked on Rex, Tali and Liara. It's all right. Minor unavoidable problems have been eliminated and the ship is ready for a long flight, supplies have been purchased and loaded into warehouses in full accordance with the lists, fuel cells have been delivered with a reserve, weapons are already in the arsenal and put in place by Rex, medicines and devices requested by the doctor have been delivered to the infirmary and mounted under Karin's personal supervision. Benezia sleeps in the infirmary under the supervision of Liara and Karin. The crew is on board, and judging by the apprehensive faces and panicked looks, the Joker has done his educational work successfully and understandably, because the Turians were looked at like nuns at a higher demon, which could not but please them. Considering that they carried edged weapons openly and defiantly, people took the hint and finally shut up.

In the control room, besides Joker, Nihlus was found contentedly in the co-pilot's seat, and both pilots were actively arguing about something. As it turned out, they were dividing who would take the helm. The Joker balked, not wanting to let anyone near his "bird", but Nihlus, smiling slyly, promised that nothing would happen to the ship, and Jeff gave up.

Jeff reported to the port controller, the magnetic grapples moved away, freeing the ship, Nihlus wrapped his fingers around the steering wheel with open pleasure...

And I suddenly noticed a very familiar Turian hurrying out onto the dock...

A little earlier, the Citadel Security Service Corps

"No, well, did you see what he was doing?" An admiring voice drawled, attracting the attention of a Turian officer walking down the corridor. "And he never missed a shot!"

"The younger Vakarian was always a great shot." The vibrating voice agreed. "How many did he put in?"

"It's about thirty-seven." the man replied.

"Are you sure? Garrus was barely standing!" The Turian asked skeptically.

"I've seen the camera footage! Vakarian is something! Drunk as shit, barely standing on his feet, but not a single slip. Right in the head."

"It's a pity that he left."

"That yes... Our best sniper. True, he had made a lot of enemies during his service."

"With his character and worldview, it's not surprising. How did he not get shot then?"

"So his two Spectra covered up." The man objected with a slight envy in his voice. "The corpses were taken from the Market half the night. They say seven more died in the hospital, and five are unlikely to live until the evening."

"Yes, I heard. One of them had his belly ripped open, so he didn't die right away."

"It was Krayk who petted him so much. The rest died on the spot. He sprawled like a fish, and no shields helped. Guys still swear when they remember. They had to collect it all. And there's blood, guts, and shit all over the floor..."

"Yes, this one can." The Turian agreed. "The sword goes through the shields, but Krayk has never disdained close combat. He's ruined too many biotics like that..."

"Did you know that he turns out to be a biotic himself?"

"Krayk something? It can't be!"

"Take a look for yourself!"

The Turian with the blue birth tattoos woke up from his stupor, abruptly turned around and quickly walked back, almost breaking into a run.

The corridors, familiar to the last spot on the walls, flashed past his consciousness, he stopped in front of a single door at the end, touched the call button. There was a short pause, and a calm voice asked:

"Who!"

"Kirrus Vakarian."

A short pause and a little tired:

"Come in."

"The door slid open, allowing Vakarian Sr. to enter the office of the C-SEC director."

Pallin took one look at his subordinate. Sighing wearily, he asked:

"Have you found out yet?" In response, a short nod.

"What has my son gotten himself into?"

"He got involved in the Special Corps." Pallin suddenly replied angrily. "Did you know that he worked on the Saren Arterius case?"

"I know. He didn't find anything."

"That's understandable." Pallin growled. "After the Council meeting, he ran into the Commander of the Alliance Air Force, Irene Shepard. The two of them did in a couple of hours what he had failed to do in a decade: they found evidence. Shepard received the status of a Spectrum and the task of finding and returning Arterius. They got drunk that night, and the next morning I got a letter of resignation from your son and a transfer report to the Spectrum Council task force. After that, Garrus flew off to an unknown destination. Since then, he has appeared on the Citadel twice. Always in the company of Shepard and Kgauka."

"Nihlus Krayk? Saren's student?"

"Yes. Each of their returns follows the same scenario: reporting to the Council and drinking with a bunch of corpses. Last time, they shot down two dozen local scumbags in the Lower Town and managed to get out of the station before Councilor Sparatus received this information." Pallin rubbed his comb tiredly, frowning at his officer. "You didn't know?"

"No. Garrus... avoids communication."

Venari sighed. The conflict between the senior and junior Vakarians in C-SEC was no secret to anyone. Their hide-and-seek has been going on for three years: the eldest is trying to catch his son, and the youngest is avoiding his father with a skill worthy of the best use. Until he ran away so that it became impossible to get him.

"How many did he kill this time?"

"Thirty seven. Shot in the head. And one with his throat slit."

"The reason?"

"Self-defense. You know how your son is treated in the Lower City."

Kirrus clenched his fists.

"I know. The consequences?"

"No."

Vakarian blinked in surprise.

"Does the advisor know about this?"

"Knows."

"And what did he do?"

"He made your son a Spectre!" Venari Pallin exploded.

Kirrus Vakarian was petrified.

"When?"

"This morning, at the initiative of Councilor Sparatus, a new Council Spectrum was appointed. Garrus Vakarian. The curator is Nihlus Krayk." The C-SEC director said, looking into his subordinate's confused light blue eyes. "Did I warn you that sooner or later this would happen? I warned you! The Special Corps looked after your son for six years, but did not touch him, respecting your decision. The massacre in the Markets of the Lower City and the demand to initiate an investigation and charge Garrus Vakarian was a good reason for Sparatus to step in and get what he wanted."

"Where is Garrus now?"

Pallin looked sharply at his kinsman.

"You know Garrus sold his apartment, right?"

"know".

"It's a wise decision. They would have blown it up anyway."

Kirrus nodded.

"Where could he be?"

"Look for her on Shepard's ship or at Kgayk's. Shepard, like your son, has no home on the Citadel. If they can be anywhere, it's only Nihlus. Or on a ship."

"What kind of ship?"

"The frigate Normandy. Transferred to the Spectr Alliance MSF by Irene Shepard. There is a Special Corps at the port now. Berthing area 7-9834-38. — short pause. — And Kirrus. The Normandy is leaving the station today."

The man stood up.

"I advise you to hurry. As far as I know, the loading of this ship ended a couple of hours ago."

Kirrus silently turned around and left the office. Pallin sighed heavily, wearily rubbed his comb and aching temples, frowning at the closed door.

For the first time, the terrifyingly slow elevator caused wild irritation, exhausting nerves to the music that was disgusting to sensitive ears. Kirrus Vakarian stood motionless, staring hard at the door. His thoughts automatically returned to the long-ago conversation that had formed an abyss between him and his son. What should he have conceded? Then why did he resist again? For what? Why all these laws, rules and traditions if the only son silently turned around and disappeared from his life? For three years he's been trying to meet with him and just talk... explain... but Garrus disappeared time after time, avoiding even a fleeting encounter with amazing tenacity.

The elevator stopped, the doors slowly slid open, and Cyrus heard a distinctive hiss and a booming pop as the magnetic grips moved away from the ship's hull. The doors finally swung open and he literally flew out onto the wide berthing area to see how the elegant silver-black ship, engines blazing, gracefully turns around in place, violating all possible rules, and slowly rotating, arcs away into outer space, leaving a beautiful smooth spiral of engine tracks behind.

Kirrus clenched his fists. The claws tore through the skin. Dark blue blood dripped from his fist and broke powerlessly on the metal of the dock.

He was too late.