Rebirth: The Mass Effect. Book 1

"I'll throw him overboard someday."

Surprise flashed nearby: Nihlus woke up as soon as the flow of borrowed energy increased.

"Who are you going to throw out?"

"The butler."

Nihlus took one look at the sleepy Garrus to assess the situation.

"You hooked up with me?"

"yes."

"Don't tell me you couldn't pick the lock and remove the seal from the door without damaging it."

"Could."

"Why didn't you?"

"Without permission?"

Nihlus looked at his kinsman skeptically.

"It should have been hacked. You know what I would allow."

Garrus shrugged his shoulders.

"What are you doing here?" Kraik asked with a sigh.

"I came to ask permission. The man, Darg, said you were here."

I covered my eyes with my palms and growled faintly. Are they kidding me? The bataler, the brute, put the guy in the sealed cabin of the wounded Spectr, knowing that the cabin would not be opened without the permission of the wounded Spectr or the captain of the ship. And the Spectrum, one or the other, he is the captain of the ship, is asleep. Garrus, as I understand it, is quite capable of picking the lock, but he did not do it. And because of his excessive honesty and decency, he hasn't slept for thirty hours. Charmingly simple! And then there's Darg, the idiot, who decided to set up a social experiment! He knows how Imrir, and I myself, react nervously to unauthorized intruders on my territory! I wonder if they're betting with Dylan over there, when will Vakarian fly out of the cabin and with what kind of parting acceleration?

"What are these idiots doing?"

"They're trying to eat some kind of white pasta. Garrus replied with a slight squeamishness in his voice. I don't understand how it can be eaten. It stinks of spent thermoclips!"

"No way!" My stomach gave a pitiful squawk. "I've been hungry for twenty-four hours, but I'm just not able to eat this filth anymore."

Garrus looked at me strangely, thought for a moment, and then pulled over a metal trunk, opened it, and took out a small box. Is he the one who's been dragging his stuff around the ship all this time? Beautifully simple.

"Hold. It's hard to call it a full meal, but it should be delicious."

The Turian came over and handed me a dark blue box with some intricate fancy lettering. The box smelled delicious.

"What's it?"

"Azarian marmalade."

Nihlus blinked in surprise.

"Why did you need it?"

"Yes, he promised to treat a colleague, but at the right moment he forgot at home and just bought another box." The guy answered with a shrug. "I still carry it with me. I don't know what it tastes like, but it's considered a delicacy."

Just think about it. Garrus is feeding me on my own ship! She lived to see it. But it's still nice, damn it, that at least someone cares! I opened the box and took off the lid. Inside, in shallow molds, there were large round candies that looked very much like marzipan. And the taste... I took one of the green candies and took a careful bite. Really delicious! However, Azari marmalade had nothing to do with sweets. I would call it some kind of cheese. Very, very tasty.

"Thank you. Delicious."

My stomach quacked and churned in agreement. Garrus smiled a little.

"Vakarian, don't you have any proper food?" Nihlus asked a sacramental question.

"You can't."

"That's not the answer." The Spectr waved away. "You kept all your clothes in the C-SEC. I can't believe you don't have any grub there."

"You won't believe it, but no," Garrus spread his hands.

"Oh, yes... Naradi fed you." Nihlus was upset.

"I never would have thought that there would be nothing to eat on the ship." I chewed on a ball of `marmalade', I said. "Except for the nutritious paste."

"Do you always eat this?"

"Normandy ships have a cook and a full-fledged galley, but the Normandy is a prototype, and the food is also experimental. The new type of ration is a nutritious paste, a balanced product with all the elements necessary for the human body." I grimaced. "We won't have time to find a cook and refit the kitchen before departure."

"Are there any normal products on board?"

"No. Just a nutritious paste."

"Why don't you order self-heating rations through the Special Corps?" Garrus asked with a bit of perplexity.

I froze, biting into another ball. And really, why not order it? It cannot be that there are no long-term food supplies in the warehouses of the Special Corps!

"You can also calculate how much you need for a flight. Flight time, number of reasonable meals of both types, number of meals per day..." Garrus stammered, blinking in surprise as I swallowed the balloon, quickly pulled on my shoes, picked up my uniform jacket, and scooped up the box.

"Let's go."

"Where to?"

"To the XO." We'll count it.

Garrus shrugged and stood up without a single word of objection.

* * *

Darg's face fell when he saw my spirited, completely satisfied face and, most importantly, a box of marmalade cheese in my hands, which I happily chewed on the move. The fighters glanced at me, at the sleepy Turian following, and quickly put one and one together.

"I told you, he'll find an approach."Dylan said, pleased, and snatched a card from under Darg's nose. "He cajoled her."

"Who knew that he would have normal food with him?" Derg muttered resentfully.

Those assholes!

Garrus just looked at the two fighters in surprise, then looked questioningly at me.

"Do not pay attention." I waved away and pulled out the last balloon from the box, this time a lilac one. "They have a habit of probing my character with someone else's hands. To know where and under what conditions it will explode."

"Does it help?" Garrus asked cautiously.

"No." Dylan replied with a grin.

"Darling, what are you chewing?" Derg asked with interest.

"Azarian marmalade." I replied, happily chewing a ball. "It's delicious, by the way."

"Rir, fuck it..." Derg stammered.

"I've already fucked you." I finished the last ball, uncivilely licked my fingers and put the empty box on the table. "Where's Pressley?"

"Yes, in the same place as usual: on the CIC. I saw him there about fifteen minutes ago."

"Darling." Dylan pushed his plate away from him with a martyr's gesture. "Can the special corps spare enough for a normal galley?"

"Maybe. But they won't have time to deliver it before departure."

Dylan cursed and, with one precise, practiced movement, tossed the disposable plate with the remnants of the nutrient mixture into the recycling bin.

"Imrir, we were going to place an order for self-heating rations." Garrus said with a bit of perplexity, looking from the upset gloomy Dylan to me and back again. The fighters froze for a moment, digested what was said, looked at each other.

"And he really knows how to find an approach to his brother in mind." Darg stretched out, getting to his feet with a jerk.

Garrus looked at the fighters strangely and shrugged his shoulders. From his point of view, there was nothing unusual about what had happened. After all, someone had to take responsibility and insist on purchasing normal products, right? Since no one on this ship has thought of such a simple solution to the power problem.

Chapter 14.2 Summoning Garrus by the bomb squad.

Pressley actually showed up at the CIC: the XO was arguing about something with a Salarian in an engineer's overalls. The conversation died down as I approached.

"What is the problem?" I asked.

"Is there a problem? There is no problem. They offered to remove the wiretap on the CIC." The Salarian rammed in.

"Will it take a long time?"

"Two days."

"We're leaving in twenty hours."

"We won't make it." stated the engineer.

"When we return from the voyage, the ship will be refitted. Then we'll take off all the excess."

"Yes. Good. Contact our team. We checked the ship. It will be faster."

I nodded in agreement, and the Salarian scurried off somewhere. Pressley watched him with displeasure until the engineer disappeared.

"Captain?"

"Pressley, how many crew are there on the ship without a landing party?"

"Twenty-one people, ma'am."

Garrus took out his datapad and scribbled something.

"How long will it take to reach our destination and will we return to the Citadel immediately?" Garrus asked me.

I looked up at the ceiling.

"Joker, can you hear me?"

I hear you, Captain.

"How long do we have to fly to Therum?"

"The Terum. The Tau of Artemis, the Knossos system?" the pilot specified.

"Do you know another Terum?" I asked skeptically, because I didn't remember where this Room was at all.

"No. He's the only one. Lava, rocks, factories. A hot trash can."

"This particular Therum."

"Eight days, plus time until the repeater."

"Eight days... about a day for the total flight to and from the relay..." Garrus muttered softly. "Twenty-one intelligent crew, landing party-five left, three Dextro, and Rex." The Turian looked up from the datapad. "Is it possible to replenish the crew on Therum?"

"Yes, we plan to pick up Azari."

"Understood..."

Everyone present was watching with interest as Vakarian counted something.

"Captain?" the XO asked, glancing at the Turian, who was immersed in calculations.

"He calculates how much food he needs to buy on the ship so that there is enough for the flight."

"Oh, are we going to have a proper meal?" The pilot's voice rang out from the ceiling, full of anticipation.

"So far, only self-heating soldering." said the Turian.

"And coffee!" The Joker immediately added.

"OK." Garrus shrugged his shoulders. "And coffee."

And then a disgruntled Rex appeared on the CIC.

"Imrir, don't you have any proper food on your ship?"

Strangely enough, no one laughed or even smiled. The problem of food on this ship was painful for everyone, and people stopped understanding jokes on this topic on the third day of the flight.

"You're just in time." Vakarian delighted the Krogan. "Let's go get her now."

"Couldn't you have done it before?" Rex grumbled.

Garrus just shrugged his shoulders, but before he could respond, the soft chirping of an instrumentron came from his hand.

"I'm listening."

"Garrus, are you busy right now?" A contented voice rang out with a characteristic click of the respiratory system.

"Something happened?"

"How should I put it?" Volus laughed. "Here, listen to them."

There was a rustle, a click, and a man's panicked voice sounded in the silence of the СIC:

"Somebody help me! I'll... I'll tell you everything! I'll tell you, just get me out of here! You are welcome! Find Vakarian!"

We looked at each other in disbelief.

"Garrus, what did you do to make them want to confess so badly?" Dylan asked in surprise.

"Me? Nothing." The Turian replied, confused.

"Extreme, where is the broadcast coming from?"

"What do you think? From your apartment." and there's joy in their voice, as if they're having some kind of holiday there.

From the other side came the cheerful laughter of several reasonable people.

"Extreme, I actually quit."

"So, are we going to blow up these two now?" There was a skeptical question.

"So there are two of them?"

"As far as I understand— yes. So, are you coming, or are we blowing up the apartment?"

Garrus looked at me questioningly, and after receiving an affirmative nod, he replied to Volus:

"I'll be there in about forty minutes."

"Can't it be faster?"

"I'm at the dock of the Special Corps. It's a long way to get there."

"You'd better hurry up. Don't worry, if they've activated the sensors, the shields should be on by now. The apartment is blocked by sections, so that everything does not explode."

Volus chuckled and hung up. Before the connection was interrupted, we managed to hear another cry for help asking us to get "out of here" and the advice in return to sit and not twitch.

"Do you do this often?" Derg asked.

"Sometimes it happens."

"Sometimes it happens. Good streamlined definition. I wonder how many people did he turn in at C-SEC? Especially those who were willing to do anything to get them out of a booby-trapped apartment."

Then why did they climb?

"I want to see it!" Rex said.

Looking at the faces of Dylan and Darg, I saw complete solidarity.

"Go. But first we'll make an order."

"It can be made at the mooring site." Garrus prompted. "At the Special Corps terminal."

I didn't know there were such terminals at all.

No, of course I would have found a way out of this situation, but Garrus help and Nihlus advice helped me avoid unnecessary problems and find solutions to existing ones. There was no help from relatives: only Dr. Chakvas could give really worthwhile advice, and that wasn't always the case. Pressley? He's never been to the Citadel before, and he doesn't know much more about it than I do. It's good that I already have people I can rely on. At least in something.

* * *

The taxi dropped us off near a low-rise residential building, standing slightly off from the only green area in the area. Surprisingly, there weren't many people around the house: two cars with the C-SEC emblem, mobile shield installations, and three fighters in black and blue armor. A phlegmatic elkor was hovering near the entrance to the store. There were no onlookers or loitering people: apparently, such incidents with this house no longer surprised anyone.

"Garrus!" one of the C-SEC officers waved his hand in greeting.

Elkor drew attention to our approaching company and issued:

"Relieved. It's good that you're here. Alarmed. Will it shake badly?"

"It shouldn't." Garrus replied. "Shields will hold the explosion."

Elkor burst out with relief and stomped into his shop, and we entered the house. The elevator quickly took us to the fifth floor and let us out into a wide corridor where the doors of eight apartments opened. But judging by the red lights, no one lived on this floor.

"Have the neighbors moved out?"

Garrus turned his attention to me and answered after a short delay:

"Six months later, they began to leave. There are currently eight apartments in the house: three on the ground floor, four on the second floor and one on the tenth floor."

Garrus spoke slowly, clearly, considering every word. A hard, eventful day and a sleepless night did not pass without a trace for him: fatigue accumulated like an avalanche, his attention was distracted, his reaction was slow, and he was already thinking with difficulty. But he's going to climb into a booby-trapped house! Maybe I should really blow up the apartment out of harm's way? I wouldn't want this Turian to die because of a ridiculous mistake. The corridor turned, and we entered a small nook where six sentients were comfortably ensconced: a cute Asari, four Turians, and a Volus in a light gray space suit. We were noticed, and the people perked up.