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Chapter 10: Problems
At exactly eight o'clock in the morning, Galactic time, the entire crew of the Normandy was in place. The ship was preparing for departure, people were checking the systems, fixing minor problems and fiddling with the settings. And I thoughtfully studied the list of the crew and the reasonable ones assigned to the "Norm". And by the end of the list, I was, frankly, in a state of mild prostration. They took off the combat squad, but they left a dozen parasites from the military police! What the fuck do I need on board a ton of lightly armed meat standing at the door and a special agent poking his nose where he shouldn't? You can't even send them into battle — they're not supposed to! Farther. The squad was removed, but Ashley and Alenko were left behind. Where is the logic? Take these two and give me Dylan and Darg back! Okay, at least one Darg! I'm trading in Ashley, Alenko, and all the fuckers from the military police. I can even give someone else away as a bonus. Except for the Joker, Karin, and Greg. I'm even willing to give Pressley away in exchange for Darg and Dylan. Oh well. Why dream of the impossible?
The actions of the authorities left strong suspicions, and I dialed Anderson's number. Maybe he can clarify something?
The captain replied quickly:
"Is Shepard's spectr?"
"Captain Anderson. Do you have the opportunity to speak?"
"Yes."
"Why did they leave an Alliance military police unit on the Normandy?" I asked bluntly.
"Those are the rules. A military police team must be present on the Alliance ships."
"As far as I know, the Normandy has been withdrawn from the fleet and transferred to the Spectr."
"Withdrawn. Do you want to get off the ship?" The captain asked ironically
"Can I?"
"You have the right. As A Spectr Of Cansel. But the command of the Air Force will not appreciate it."
"What should I do for this?"
"Just order it."
"Why did Williams and Alenko leave?"
"Ashley Williams has been accepted by you into the combat squad. Kayden Alenko was left on board as a participant in the events on Eden Prime."
"Are they subordinate to me or to the leadership of the MSF?"
"The leadership of the Alliance's Air Force." Anderson smiled faintly at the corners of his lips. "I have left the documents and orders for you and the Normandy in the captain's cabin."
"Thank you, Captain."
Anderson gave me a reassuring smile. The connection was lost, and I went to my cabin. The documents were found in the desk. Settling down on the bed, I immersed myself in reading these very documents, waiting with all my heart for some kind of nastiness. The setup didn't take long to appear: the clearer the picture unfolded before my eyes, the more I realized what kind of ass I was in, and how beautifully the command framed me and firmly chained me up. The "gift" to Normandy is a generous gesture at first glance. The native authorities voluntarily give me the newest ship, like, you need a private taxi, you are the first Spectr, blah blah blah about pride and honor, in short, use it and remember that the Motherland will not forget you. Yeah, I didn't even doubt that. They'll forget, of course. This is my pink dream, absolutely unattainable. In the original, Shepard won't even be allowed to die like a human, but will be captured in space and put into action in a second round. Of course, to lose such a well-promoted brand as a Hero!
Okay, let's look further. The Normandy was indeed withdrawn from the fleet, but as a combat ship belonging to the Alliance, it was transferred to some unknown civilian or military unit, the S-1, which reports to no one knows who. And I was there, according to the order, exactly half a day before I was appointed Spectr. Was I given to Cerberus like that? Very similar! That is, I am a citizen of the Alliance, I don't understand what status, I don't understand with what duties and rights, and I don't understand who I obey! I don't have any data on this strange division, and I suspect I'll be able to find it even with the help of a Gray Intermediary. Farther. All the provision of the "Norm" goes through this strange office. And I don't understand what kind of sucker I'm on. They don't pay me any money, I don't have a title, and my status is unclear. What am I anyway according to these documents?
Damn it! I'll survive Lazarus, I'll buy Anderson a personal trough with a box of dough and a huge bar! For these pieces of paper and for the thick hint. He's really worried about me. And he understands what kind of ass I'm in and what kind of turn I'm being taken into.
A One-time Hero. Okay, reusable! There is even a Lazarus project, and I doubt that SUCH a thing is born in two years.
The situation is super simple! At least go and ask for political asylum from the Council. Or the Sovereign The Nazars. It's also a good option. With such a superior, the Ruler is generally the very nobility and honesty in the flesh! Oh well. As a last resort, I'll die. Is this the first time? Although it's a pity, I have personal plans here that I would like to make a reality before heroically throwing my hooves away.
Laughing angrily softly, I put the documents away. If it hadn't been for that fucking Lazarus and the key point, we could have taken action now, but we can't. Therefore, it is necessary to prepare the ground for the future and assemble a team. And the authorities will breathe a sigh of relief if I don't accept the situation with cow-like resignation, but do something. Like, the kid believed it. Well, well...
The documents dissolved in my hands. My personal spatial pocket is not able to accommodate much, especially now, but one file got in, although I feel like I moved a monorail car on my back.
The cold door cooled his hot head pleasantly. I stood with my forehead against the metal and slowly calmed down. There's nothing I can do right now. Must not. But then... Then we'll see. In the meantime, we should take care of the ship.
An hour later, the Special Forces military police squad was evicted, and the Normandy, having moored from the Citadel, headed for the repeater. We have a little over three hours to fly to this miracle of Reaper engineering, and then jump into the Tau of Artemis.
This sector includes four systems: Macedonia, Athens, Knossos and Sparta. The information from the Council did not specify which system Liara works in. I didn't remember that for sure either, but the name of the planet stuck in my memory: Terum. I think the Joker will be able to tell you which system this planet is in.
There was no one else in the control room except the Joker. I dropped into the ever-empty copilot's seat and greeted the pilot with a nod.
"You don't look well, Rir." The Joker glanced at me briefly. "You haven't slept for half the night again?"
I shrugged my shoulders vaguely.
"You see everything, Joker."
"Well, who else will look after you, Captain?" Moreau chuckled. "And yet, Rir, did something happen?"
"Problems, Jeff. Future and current ones. I have a bad feeling about this."
"How was Eden Prime?"
"Worse."
We were silent for a while. I watched Jeff lead the Norma to the repeater, weaving through the dense traffic, lazily sprawled in a chair. I managed to establish a relationship with the Joker. Moreau was a guy with a developed sense of humor and was attracted to people. As soon as I showed my true character, talked to him like a human being, without the husk of officiousness and Regulations, Jeff thawed and quickly accepted me into the inner circle. However, sometimes he still squints. He doesn't believe it. I still can't believe that Eden Prime changed me so much.
"Where are we going?"
"The Terum. The planet is somewhere in the Tau sector of Artemis."
"I know. An industrial planet in the Knossos system. A hot garbage dump, rich in heavy metals. What are we doing there?"
"Dr. Liara T"Sony. She's been studying Prothean ruins, and Therum has plenty of them. Daughter of the matriarch of Benesia."
"Do you need her as a prisoner? Or..."
"I hope for or." I caught the Joker's amused look. "what?"
"At this rate, you'll soon have more non-humans than humans on your ship."
"Do you have something against it?" I raised an eyebrow.
"I don't trust them." the guy confessed. "The same Nihlus..."
"And what about Nihlus? Look deeper, Jeff. Don't look at your appearance. Don't look at official behavior and words. Try to see the personality." I smiled. "And then you will have a surprise waiting for you. Nihlus will not let you down or betray you. Like all Turians, he is painfully honest. Fortunately, at least he's not too fixated on subordination and hierarchy, if what I've heard about him is true. However, this is a feature of his civilization. Tell me, Jeff, do you find many PEOPLE like that?"
The Joker sighed sadly, accepting that I was right.
"You used to be more... categorically."
"Stupid because I was." shrugging my shoulders, I easily admitted. "Xenophobia is a disease of the mind that is unable to overcome its fears and stereotypes and prejudices invented by someone. It doesn't matter to me which race my subordinate belongs to. And, even more so, a friend. Friends are too valuable and rare to select them based on race. You either have a friend or you don't have one. It doesn't matter what color his blood is, how many fingers he has on his hands, or what kind of face he has."
A wave of surprise and thoughtfulness suddenly flashed from the entrance to the control room, and I could barely resist the urge to turn around. Instead, I shifted slightly, catching a reflection on the polished side of the console. She peered into the murky spot and barely suppressed a smile: Garrus was standing at the door.
"Ashley won't agree with you."
"That's Ashley's problem. If she doesn't change her mind about the new team members, I'll say goodbye to her."
"Cruelly."
"Jeff, I've been given Spectr status. It is a great honor and no less a huge responsibility. Not only for people, but for everyone else. I will be watched very carefully. I have no right to demonstrate xenophobia. And I don't want to."
The murky reflection was gone: the tactful Turian had left as silently as he had come, unwilling to eavesdrop on a conversation not meant for his ears.
"How long do we have to fly?"
"A couple of hours to the repeater and eight days to Knossos. There's still five hours from the repeater to the planet."
"Long."
"We're flying across the galaxy." Jeff shrugged his shoulders. "It's fast. Six jumps will have to be made. I couldn't cut any more."
"I won't distract you. If you need anything... Well, you know." Jeff smiled and nodded, without taking his eyes off the ugly Azarian ship weaving in front of us.
"The XO wanted to see you." The Joker called after me.
I nodded and left the control room. I wonder if in reality the XO will also reproach me with aliens on board? Considering the general level of xenophobia in the Navy... Most likely, yes, it will. Especially for the Turians. However, as far as I remember, over time he got used to it and even became friends with someone. As much as possible for a military man to the core.
The conversation with the XO brought nothing new, except that it left a slight aftertaste of irritation. Pressley did not directly reproach me for anything, but indirectly pointed out the inadmissibility of the presence of aliens on board. You see, this is a matter for humanity, and it's not a good idea to ask for outside help. Yeah... of course... We are steeper than a dunghill, and the mountains tremble from our might. We don't need anyone! Is it okay that the only real fighters on my ship are Rex and Garrus? Tali is a technician, and he's not even able to fend off bandits right now. Ashley can kick me or hand me over to the Alliance command if I decide to "step left, step right." Kayden is generally a separate song. A biotic with L2 is a dangerous implant that can either lead to psychosis or burn out the last brains. I just don't talk about wild migraines. What kind of fighter is he if he can barely think from the pain in his head? What about overreaction to bright lights and noise? And there is nothing to help him — L2 cannot be withdrawn!
I'll have to find out on occasion what the authorities were guided by when they recalled the combat group, leaving me with an aggressive xenophobic and a disabled biotic. The fact that Garrus, Rex, and Tali were on board was my merit and, in general, an accident. Naylus hasn't been a fighter for another ten days. With a natural recovery, it takes two or three decades.
It's going to be bad on Therum...
Anyway, in this state, I entered the lounge, which is also the recreation area, where I found the aliens I was looking for and Ashley, who was unhappy with their presence. The atmosphere was pre-storm: Garrus was furious, Tali was offended and silent, Rex didn't give a damn, and Ashley was fuming and gurgling. Don't you understand? Did they have a fight?
"What happened here?"
"Irene's spectr." When I heard the cold rasping voice of the Turian, I wanted to bang my head against the wall. "Your crew members do not agree with our presence on board."
That's why I love Turians, so it's for honesty and directness! And the ability to think fast!
"That's how?" My voice took on a deceptive softness. "Ashley?"
"Saren attacked our colony. We have to stop him!" The girl said hotly, clenching her fists. "Humanity solves its own problems!"
Great Gods and Demons, give me patience! Otherwise, I'll throw it out somewhere along the way and say that I fell out myself!
"Tell them we don't need their help." Garrus shuddered at my affectionate tone and exchanged glances with Tali, while Rex emerged from his phlegmatic state, listening with interest to the conversation. Or that Garrus is a Turian and should not be trusted."
Ashley must have felt something, too, because she immediately backed off.
"I'm sorry, Commander. I had no right to say that."
It's too late, my dear! I'm not going to fix your brain! I'll still have someone to mess with and practice the science of brain surgery and shrinkage!
"I'm NOT a commander. Having received Spectr status, I officially withdrew from the Alliance's military space forces. I, as a Spectrum, DO NOT OBEY the Alliance's MSF. Only the Citadel Council. The Normandy was withdrawn from the fleet and, roughly speaking, given to me. From dear superiors to the first Spectr-to a person." Venom dripped from his fangs: he couldn't contain his sarcastic irony. "Only the Council sets tasks for me. I can take into account the recommendations and wishes of the Alliance's Air Force, but they have no right to order me. Am I making myself clear?"
"Yes, the Spectr."
"Free to go!"
Ashley abruptly turned around and literally flew out of the cabin.
"I'm sorry that we're causing you problems with the crew." Garrus said softly.
Falling onto the couch, I rubbed my temples tiredly.
"Not worth it. Ashley is a xenophobe and there is no cure. She does not want to change her attitude towards representatives of other races. So she doesn't belong in the landing party."
The Turian opened his mouth to protest, but I held up my hand, and he shut up understandingly.
"I can't take an unreliable fighter with me. I have to be absolutely sure that everyone in the squad will be ready to watch their partner's back, regardless of his or her race. Ashley got on board by accident just a couple of days before the ship arrived at the Citadel. I can tolerate a lot and turn a blind eye to a lot, but not that kind of attitude. On the other hand, Ashley is a military man, and if she receives an order from the command, she will carry it out, even if it goes against the goals of my mission.
Garrus nodded slowly, accepting my explanation.
"Shepard, why do you keep people on the ship who might fail?" Rex boomed.
"Not all at once, Rex."
The mood was gone completely. If it were possible, I would have changed half the crew! The only thing that holds you back is the irrationality of this act. As long as I act within the framework that suits my former superiors, everything is fine! But if I step aside a little bit... I'm afraid I'm in trouble. However, I'm not going to return to the arms of my beloved MSF, even if the Spectr status is removed from me. It's better to become a mercenary, honestly, and it's more familiar somehow. Okay, time will tell.
"We have eight days to fly. Have you been settled yet?"
In response, there is a synchronous negative swing.
"I ordered the butler to put you in your cabins!"
Anger took my breath away.
"We were told there were no available cabins." Rex said phlegmatically.
"Come with me."
I stood up with a jerk. After the eviction of the military police, the cabins were vacated. Either I didn't understand something, or someone decided to petty sabotage my orders!
The showdown turned out to be fun. The butler, that brute Pakti, took advantage of the moment to settle the crew one at a time and took an empty seat! The "norm" was intended for permanent residence of forty-five reasonable people. The crew consists of twenty-eight people, including me, two officers and the pilot. I have my own cabin, and the doctor lives in a private compartment adjacent to the infirmary. The XO, chief engineer, and Jeff live in separate cabins. The first two are as officers of the ship, Jeff is unable to use the capsules due to his health. In fact, ten to twelve cabins should remain vacant, since many prefer to sleep in fancy sleeping capsules, and the cabins with them are six-seater.
In general, the day was ruined. Having solved the problem of accommodation and packed the crew more tightly, I freed up the cabins for the landing party. As a result, I managed to free up five double cabins, three of which I gave to Garrus, Tali and Rex, respectively, while there is such a luxury as free space. I assigned another one to Nihlus. Not everyone can live in the infirmary. Something must be done about the combat group... Perhaps Naylus can tell you how to resolve this issue.
It occurred to me that as a being who had gotten out of the rut of events, Nihlus could really help and hedge against slippery moments. But for this it is necessary to tell him, if not everything, then a lot.
Is it worth it?
* * *
Leaving the soldiers to rest and settle in a new place, I headed for the infirmary. I wanted to get drunk or kill. Or better yet, both.
In the infirmary, I was greeted by silence and tranquility, a light twilight, dispelled only by the dim light of the lamp above Nihlus' bed. Karin was not there, but the green light on the door to the private cabin made it clear that the doctor was there. When I stumbled into this realm of tranquility, Naylus looked up from his reading, looking at my disheveled and angry face with mild surprise.
"Irene's spectr?"
Wearily, I sank onto the next bed, holding my head in my hands. Half a day. It's only been half a day, and I feel like I've been mentally raped, chewed up, and spat out! Nilus unplugged the datapad and placed it on his stomach.
What happened?
"It's easier to say what didn't happen." I whispered. "Nielus, do you have a ship?"
The Turian nodded cautiously.
"How did you get it?"
"The Citadel's advice was given." a concise answer.
"And my former boss gave it to me. With the crew."
Nihlus immediately understood what I was trying to say.
"Problems?"
"Yes." the head responded with a lingering pain of overload. "You're still my handler, aren't you?"
A short, wary nod.
"I need some advice." I was surprised at how helpless my voice sounded.
"Tell me." The soft command was clearly heard in the rumbling voice.
And I began the story. From checking the crew and the lists of reasonable people on board to settling in and providing all the necessary new fighters. Nihlus listened without interrupting, only occasionally asking clarifying questions. Calm green eyes, without a trace of mockery or irritation, stared intently at my face. And I told him. Their conclusions, concerns, opinions, and decisions made before departure. About the military police unit that was kicked off the ship, about the special agent with whom I had a big fight, about his veiled threats, about the clash between Ashley and Garrus, about Pressley, about... Yes, about everything. And as an apotheosis, she just handed him the same file.
Nihlus took it cautiously.
"Take it. Read it, rate it. I have no words left. Only fuck." I swallowed the ending of "and the desire to escape under Saren's wing" safely.
The Turian blinked in surprise, but opened this collection of joy and immersed himself in reading. And I was sitting on the bed, hugging my knee and silently watching the emotions change on his face.
For giving this folder to the Spectr, my dear superiors will court-martial me! An interesting thought flashed through my mind: "Don't I give a fuck? He'll give it back anyway." But the truth is, he will give it back. Naylus finished reading, automatically folded the waste paper into a folder and closed it, looking somewhere into eternity and thinking about something. His expression was indescribable, and His Majesty's emotions were filled with Shock. He must have been impressed, too. Nihlus is no fool. He understood as well as I did WHAT those stinking pieces of paper meant. Or even more. See how he gets crushed, shock turns to anger, rage turns into dumbfounded disgust, only to drown in anger again.
"That's the way it is." I announced gloomily.
The green eyes stared intently and hard. Finally, Nielus replied in a low, growling voice:
"I can give you some advice. But will you follow him?"
"I'm not asking out of idle curiosity."
"Get rid of anyone who poses a threat." He pressed the Spectr down hard. "So that suspicion doesn't fall on you."
The handsome man! I adore him already! He just offered to kill half the crew. The kindest creature! And him right. In an amicable way, this is what should be done.
"I see you've assessed the situation correctly." I smiled mirthlessly. "And where will I get a new carriage?" I asked phlegmatically. "I can only keep Dr. Karin, the pilot and the chief engineer. The rest are not trustworthy. There is no combat group. We will arrive at Therum in eight days, and I'm afraid there will be problems there. Serious problems. You won't be back on your feet anytime soon."
"The wound heals quickly." a close look. "TOO fast!"
"Did the doctor tell you?"
Nihlus just nodded.
"Do you mind?"
"No." a slight smile: mandibles slightly parted. "I have an idea of the severity of the injury." the claw tapped lightly on the datapad. "They rarely survive with such wounds, even in the clinic. I'm not going to ask how you know about energy recharge and what these signs are."
"Don't you believe in the Prothean lighthouse?" I raised an eyebrow.
In response, an ironic look from bright green eyes.
A jolt of pain shot through his temples. The migraine was developing, threatening to plunge me into a semi-conscious state soon. The seventh layer of the aura was unfolding, and along with it, mentalism and the empath's gift-curse were activated. In a good way, I need to sleep a lot and soundly in a completely dark and noise-insulated room right now, and I'm running around the ship like I've been shot, swimming in a pile of negativity. Hello, regular sensitive shock, I missed you so much!
"Into this... It's hard to believe." the Turian honestly admitted. "The actions of your leadership are mine... They are amazing."
"Believe me. It's just like them."
A short pause. Disbelief in his eyes. A storm of rising fury.
"How can you believe them after that?"
"What kind of faith or trust can we talk about?" I asked ironically, wincing at the pain.
But you keep doing the job.
"I'm not doing this for my superiors or my native race, from which I have a quiet desire to stupidly escape. Rather, I'm doing it... For your sake. A council that treated me better than my former boss and gave me a chance to become someone more. For Tali and Garrus, who sincerely helped me in a hopeless case and covered my back, for the same Rex, who voluntarily followed me without doubts and mercantile interest, for the Joker, who has nowhere to go. For your sake." The green eyes blinked in surprise. You believed in me, decided to give me a chance to join the elite of the Galaxy, and died because of your trust."
"Died?" Nielus echoed.
Yes, mother ete! That's why I'm so terribly struck by la-la at the moment of revealing mentalism? Is this a curse? Or does the brain shut down at this time? I closed my eyes. I shouldn't have started this conversation. I should have gone to bed. But in this state, I will not be able to switch off, and the sensitive shock will smoothly turn into overload and coma of arbitrary duration. It's going to be a great prospect!
A short pause, a hard gaze.
"You're not Irene Shepard." He told me how he put it. Wow... I guessed it. He's smart... Just not at the right time! Or on time?
"Technically, I'm Irene Shepard."
"Technically?"
"Do you really want to know the truth?" I looked at the Turian with academic interest. "Are you sure you can believe in her? What DO YOU WANT? Don't you think I'm sick in the head?"
"I WANT TO KNOW. I'm ready to believe it."
A tough guy. I wouldn't risk giving you a willingness to believe in some nonsense right away.
"We'll see. I have about forty minutes before the sensory shock takes me down. If I can't get rid of the negativity and calm down, I'll fall into a coma for an unknown period." I raised my hand, interrupting Nihlus, who was ready to ask questions. "Do you remember when I went to the infirmary shortly before landing on Eden Prime?"
A short nod.
"It was an echo of agony. Death does not pass without consequences. At that moment, I was experiencing it, and my body was responding to my brain's commands. The body was dying along with the mind."
"But you're alive."
"Technically, yes. The old soul was ripped out and a new one was inserted. It feels wonderful! Especially when you get used to someone else's body and feel: hello, a new rebirth. I hope you're familiar with the theory of reincarnation in this reality?"
"I'm familiar with it."
"You can look at her living proof." Nihlus shook his head skeptically.
"Do you remember your past life?"
"And more than one. Then I'll tell you and show you something interesting. By the way. Energy recharge is just an example of knowledge from a past life."
"I can believe that."
Interestingly, he really believed it. His emotions were slowly replaced by amazement and burning curiosity.
"Go on."
There was some kind of strange state of indifference. I wanted to speak out, at least to tell someone about the abyss into which this world is heading. So why not him?
"From life to life, I am reborn as a key figure of embodied reality, around which all the important events that shape history and the cycle of development revolve. This is Shepard here."
"What is embodied reality?"
The handsome man! I clearly figured out the main question.
"This is a reality that rigidly follows a predetermined chain of events. If she passes these events and key points of history, she will not get a chance to develop independently. Only a creature from outside can change these events."
"How are you?"
"Like me. In fact, this is a kind of symbiosis: I am given a chance for a new interesting life," I couldn't help but laugh nervously, "and reality gets a chance to break away from the hard path and become independent. For if it does not separate, then at the end of events it will stagnate and collapse. And I'm with her. So, I am vitally interested in Branching out, and this reality became Reflected and began to develop. Then, after another death, I will enter the next world. And I will have a new life. If I fail, my soul will be returned back to the forge. You must admit, the incentive is quite significant.
"Do you know the future of this world?"
"Only in general terms. Key events that cannot be bypassed, but can be changed. The further away from the start of a predefined story, the more likely it is to be shifted off the beaten track."
"What was the first key point?"
"I think you guessed it yourself."
"Eden Prime?"
"Yes. Point zero. The beginning of the countdown."
"Key events?"
The spectr asked dryly and calmly.
"The landing, Jenkins' death under Geth drones, the meeting with Ashley, your meeting with Saren and death from a gunshot to the back of the head, my meeting with the lighthouse and its destruction. The result of this chain of events is an investigation at the Citadel in Garrus' company, proof of Saren's betrayal, and obtaining Spectr status. The key block. The result: Garrus, Tali, and Rex become members of my squad, and I receive the Normandy and the mission to stop Saren."
"How do you know that?"
"It's a kind of intuition, even if you don't really know. An echo of information from the noosphere of reality."
"Your knowledge is accurate." the Turian objected.
"Yes. Don't ask me where. I won't tell. Or I will, but not now."
Nielus nodded slowly.
"Why didn't you save Jenkins too?"
"The experience of many lives has shown that one thing can be changed. And the more significant the impact on the future, the harder it is to achieve change. Saving Jenkins was simple. For you, it's almost impossible. To bypass the meeting with the lighthouse is unrealistic at all."
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!
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