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Chapter 25: The Last Quiet Hours
Illustration:
https://disk.yandex.ru/d/Tpt1dGDwwJevUw
The Presidium Park is a wonderful place. Elegant light buildings surrounded by lush greenery, artificial lakes, waterfalls and fountains, brightly dressed intelligent people leisurely strolling along the embankment or standing on bridges. The picture was spoiled by the repeater of the Channel, but... not so much anymore. He was just a little annoying, without provoking a dull anger. Apparently, I'm starting to get used to the Citadel. The station is really beautiful... even without looking at who created it and for what purposes.
The guys chose a small cafe on the lake embankment. A powerful tree shaded us from the illusory sun, and an ornamental shrub blooming with large scarlet flowers beautifully framed the terrace and hid it from prying eyes. Lazily doing nothing in good company for an equally lazy conversation about nothing, delicious exotic drinks, polite and tactful waiters, looking fearfully at our armed company and the Krayz lying open on the table, fully ready for battle. Garrus was enthusiastically picking at the Turian equivalent of the super-heavy Black Widow sniper rifle, adjusting and adjusting something to his hand. The Salarian receptionist in a funny chocolate-green suit turned pale and green every time Garrus raised his weapon and peered into the scope, and he sagged with relief when the grumbling guy returned the weapon to the table. The sensible people at the neighboring tables watched our trio with a degree of curiosity, but without apprehension, and the two C-Sec standing nearby listened with interest to Garrus's grumbling and clearly knew him. A couple of elderly Turians, sitting at a table slightly to our left, watched our sniper's performance patronizingly and with emotion, not too quietly reminiscing about the turbulent past and discussing the rare and very specific weapons spread out on our table.
We wrested the Krayza from the quartermaster of the SPECTR and then, after a call to Sparatus. I didn't want to give it away like that. You saw, you bastard, that Garrus, who had never seen a Spectr, had his eye on the rifle. He gave me my Krayza, but then he balked. Theoretically, I can understand the old greedy guy. The Krayza is not just a powerful rifle, but an extremely powerful one. These weapons destroy heavily armored infantry. In one shot. Yes, it has a low rate of fire, there are three rounds in the magazine, it overheats quickly, cools down for a long time, and consumes thermoclips like Rex provisions, but the power is simply monstrous. What's so strange about Garrus immediately taking a fancy to her?
Naturally, we noticed this, as did the quartermaster. And it's just as natural that we immediately asked for this very "Krayza", and the Salarian stuck both horns in. There were only six such rifles in the arsenal. The problem was solved by Nihlus.
You should have seen the Salarian's face when the infuriated Turian, remembering the promise of a relative, dialed an adviser and venomously informed us that they refused to give us the necessary weapons in the arsenal of the Special Corps. Judging by Sparatus' evil face, we had interrupted him from something pleasant, because my translator could not translate the matyugs that the frightened quartermaster heard, although the disturbed associations aroused respect. After swearing at the redneck quartermaster, Sparatus ordered to give him what was required, and promised that if he got at least one more such complaint, he would personally break his second horn, after which he passed out, measuring our company with a promising look. Feels the heart... We will remember it!
The vindictive Nihlus went through the arsenal like a gloating whirlwind once more and stole a bunch of completely unnecessary junk and in general ALL the "Kraza's" that he found, bringing the quartermaster to a nervous tic. We're definitely not the first people to have this incarnation of Her Highness the Toad try to hold a weapon, and we're certainly not the last to take it out on him in the same way. The understanding and happy faces of the two Spectrum Turians, watching the mayhem we were creating, shone with sincere and undisguised gloating, while our Salarian colleague looked at his kinsman without a shadow of sympathy and with great satisfaction.
Garrus, finally satisfied with the result, stroked the forearm with his clawed fingers and said thoughtfully:
"I should have shot him."
The cafe's administrator flashed with undisguised horror, and Nihlus, sensing this, laughed.
"Vakarian and big long-range guns! You're incorrigible!"
Garrus snorted.
"You don't understand anything, Krayk. This charm pierces shields along with their owner with a single shot!"
"One shot, one dead body?" I asked, smiling at the soulful face.
"That's right!" the sniper purred, put the weapon in the box and... unpacked the next one.
"Have fun." Nihlus complacently pointed to four more weapon boxes with exactly the same markings.
"Nihlus, why do you need a Krayza if you don't use sniper rifles?"
He shrugged his shoulders and said blissfully:
"I don't need it. This is for you, in case you ruin yours again. When else will it be possible to plunder SPECTR's special arsenal so successfully? The old greedy man won't have enough nerves to be afraid a second time.
"I'm not a Spectr," Garrus said reasonably, gazing intently at Nihlus, who was completely satisfied with his life.
"So what?"
""Krayza" is a rare special weapon. And expensive." Garrus ran his fingers gently over the rifle without noticing it. "Will there be any problems?"
"Because of the six rifles?" Nihlus asked skeptically. "no. If we could just take out the WHOLE arsenal, then yes... Sparatus, then... I'd scold you for being too greedy. The maximum. Or he would have ordered us to return what we don't need."
"That's it?"
"That's all. Or he could have just sent the quartermaster to the warehouse to argue with a colleague. He's a greedy bastard. Because of this feature, ALL Spectr's are gaining weapons with a large reserve."
I couldn't help but chuckle.
"Personal experience?"
"Oh, yes!"
"Was it my imagination, or is this not the first time Sparatus has heard such complaints?"
"Yes, all the time. The old greedy guy got the whole Special Corps, and only a direct order from the adviser can affect him. Sparatus has long been plagued with complaints about the quartermaster of the Citadel's special arsenal. There are only two people to whom he gives everything without a single squeak. Tagrus and..." Nihlus clenched the glass in his fist with such force that it cracked plaintively, "Saren."
I gently put my hand on his forearm.
"We'll get him back."
The long fingers loosened powerlessly. The glass slipped out of his hand and fell onto the table with a thud, swayed, but resisted.
"But in what form?"
"Terrifying, you know that. The Lord holds him too tightly by the throat. But it only depends on us whether he will live or not... He'll die."
"Not from us." he whispered bitterly, clenching his hand into a fist. "From you. There's nothing I can do to help him."
"But you can help me." I met the gaze of green eyes.
He nodded slowly. The tension melted away, and Nihlus relaxed again, thoughtfully swinging the glass between his fingers. Garrus was tactfully silent, quickly adjusting the rifle, but without the same pleasure that he had before. The topic of Saren has recently become particularly acute and painful. The closer the flight to Vermeer got, the more Nihlus wound itself up. Especially seeing the example of submission in the person of the matriarch. He believed in his mentor and friend, but... He was really aware of the situation and understood Saren's chances of resisting the Overlord. Zero points.
The incoming signal on the instrumentron started beeping. I unfolded the golden interface. Pressley.
"What happened?" I asked without further ado.
"They came from the Special Corps." the XO replied laconically. "For the cargo. They require your presence."
"We'll be right there."
The XO's face was gone. There was no need to explain anything. Garrus quickly packed the rifle into a box, we disassembled the crates, and fifteen minutes later we fell out of the elevator at berth 7-9834-38.
We were met at the Normandy by Pressley and five unknown Spectr's: an Asari, three Turians, and a Salarian. The leader of the group was Azari. One look at his arrogant face was enough for me: We won'T get along. I will not forget the disdain and contempt in the eyes of the blue beauty.
Pressley greeted us with relief, while his colleagues greeted us with skepticism. Especially me. They ignored Nihlus. No one paid any attention to Garrus at all, glancing at him as if he were an empty place. They're... wrong.
For some time now, Garrus Vakarian has been one of the VERY few intelligent people in my inner circle. The second one and... at the moment, the last one. The first was Nihlus Krayk. The inner circle is closer than the relatives. They are the ones for whom I am ready not only to bend reality over my knee, but also to twist it so that they live. They're intelligent, and I trust them implicitly. I will not hesitate to give my life for them. They are the ones I will remember for the rest of my life. And I will destroy anyone who dares to lay a hand on them. And this lady just expressively and with gusto spat in our face.
I caught Nihlus intense gaze.
"Do you have any disagreements?"
"She hates Saren. And me."
"I see. And why did Sparatus send her?"
"Good question."
"In that case, doing something nasty is sacred. Then let Saren deal with her on his own."
From Nihlus came a flash of dull pain and a barely perceptible hope.
"We'll get it back, even if I have to put it back together. I have something... leftovers from past lives. As a last resort."
Nihlus closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, and calmed down.
Well,... It's time to chat with colleagues! In the meantime... We ignored this sculptural group, walked past them along the open ramp, fell into the arsenal and began to slowly lay out the loot. Of course, the main order will be delivered later in the evening, it was us who went to the arsenals for the sake of a sniper rifle, but still. If our colleagues thought that we would crucify ourselves in front of them with heavy weapon boxes in our hands, they were mistaken.
Finally, having beautifully arranged the crates of "Krayzs" under Rex's happy and understanding gaze, we deigned to shift our attention to the Spectra who were fucked up by such a reception.
"The spectr of Irene Shepard?" Asari asked, raising a hairless eyebrow slightly.
"With whom I have... The pleasure of talking?" I asked dryly, glancing at her.
Spectr of Uriya D"Lori. You have to give us the cargo.
I chuckled.
"No problem! I hope you thought to bring a cargo aircar with you?" I asked innocently and saw confusion and annoyance flash in Asari's eyes. "No? Well, it can't be helped... You will have to carry this box in your own hands."
And I pointed with undisguised pleasure at the hefty container that our biotics were carrying out, blazing with a bright blue glow. There was gloating and satisfaction behind his back. Garrus, my sweet, you're a sharpshooter, and it turns out you're not without your share of vindictiveness. Just like Nihlus. He generally got a lot of pleasure from my communication with a colleague.
"Councilor Sparatus has ordered you to escort the cargo."
No problem. I smiled broadly, clearly indicating that I was ready to follow the load, but I wouldn't lift a finger to make it move.
I must have had a wonderfully expressive face, because Uriah, with a stony face, sent one of the fighters from her group after the aircar. I know for sure that at first she wanted to chase Garrus away, but... she didn't dare. That's great. I'm just as vindictive as any immortal. The car arrived quickly, and I had a lot of fun watching the Spectr manually load the box with the queen. Rex stood and enjoyed the process with Nihlus and Garrus. And the faces of all three of them are absolutely equally inspired! Uriya saw this outright happiness, she was furious, but she was silent, holding the main weight with biotics. There's like half a ton in the queen. Except for the box itself.
I honestly waited until we with matyug's pushed the box into the cargo hold of the aircar, and happily said:
"The spectr of Uriah!"
The Asari looked at me suspiciously.
"I have ten Asari marines from Matriarch Benezia's escort on board as passengers. Could you take them with you?"
Uriya thought for two minutes, until the full meaning and cynicism of what was said reached her, slowly closed her eyes, took a deep breath and exhaled just as slowly.
"I can."
A happy grin spread across his face.
"The Joker! Do you hear that?"
"Of course, Captain! The ladies are already getting ready."
The ladies in question rolled out of the hold just a couple of minutes later, lined up on my left hand. Benezia explained VERY clearly and without room for imagination to the girls who has the right to give them orders until her recovery.
Uriah stood there and stared at me intently. Uriah stood there and stared at me intently. I smiled into her eyes and rolled from heel to toe, trying to show how deeply I didn't care. Nihlus was genuinely getting kayf and pretending to be my shadow. Garrus was grinning obscenely and doing the same. We weren't in a hurry, everything was fine with us, and we waited in silence for the Spectr to chew through the situation and come up with a solution. The marines, on the other hand, stared at the painfully familiar box and whispered softly, completely ignoring the five sentients.
Uriah gave up when she saw Nihlus, leering at me, pointedly tilt his head to my ear and, in a delightful vibrating whisper that could be heard almost all over Normandy, start baiting stories from the series "Entertaining Facts from the Life of Spectr's." Garrus listened with pleasure, completely ignoring the slow-growing Asari. Irene swears that in a little while, and we would have just turned our backs on her and started talking out loud.
"Get on board! The council is waiting for us." Uriah literally growled, abruptly turned around and left for the aircar.
Neither I nor the Turians tried to find out exactly where we were going. We comfortably settled down right on the floor next to the box with the queen, and Nihlus continued to tell funny stories, not forgetting to walk over his "beloved" colleague. Uria was slowly seething at the sight of our colorful company, but she didn't try to shut up her colleague, and he naturally enjoyed the feeling of her emotions. I carefully put a hard marker on her, killing at the root the idea of taking revenge on us through the most vulnerable member of our squad. Garrus. He is not a Spectr. Uriah will get nothing for killing him... officially. As soon as the thought of harming or killing reaches the stage of a decision about execution... Dear Azari will go to her grave with a massive brain hemorrhage.
For a mentalist, a conscious decision is equivalent to an action. Just like any magician. I prefer to protect rather than take revenge... destroying the enemy before he harms. Then you won't have to take revenge.
The aircar took us to a rather spacious room and landed against the wall. The full Council and two dozen fighters were already waiting for us there. We didn't show off, and on my command, the paratroopers easily pulled out the box with the queen and placed it in the center. Uriah just said nothing, glaring at my back.
As we approached the Council, all three of us bowed our heads.
"The Rachni Queen has been delivered by your order." Nihlus reported calmly.
Uriah choked on air and coughed, staring in deep shock at the worn and partially holed box. Well, you can't keep Varren like that, you're right. How is she? Fine. Why didn't she break out? Because I'm smarter than you... I was happy to answer Uriah's questions and thoughts to myself, getting some kind of sadistic satisfaction.
Sparatus took over the conversation as a representative of the interested party. They have already discussed, divided, and agreed upon everything among themselves and with the rulers of their races. The hierarchy agreed to accept rahni. Or rather, get your hands on them.
"What is her condition?"
"In a mild form of stasis." I replied.
"Can you take her out?"
"yes."
"Get started."
On my command, the paratroopers removed the locks from the doors and opened them wide, showing the soundly sleeping lilac-purple queen to others. I just reached out to Rahni's mind, sending out a pre-arranged signal. A couple of long minutes of waiting, and the queen stirred. A huge insect slowly, still clumsily after a long sleep, crawled out of the box, appearing in all its power and glory.
"We need a medium. The Queen is unable to speak aloud on her own." The people thought about it. The paratroopers standing behind me whispered softly about something, and a pretty girl stepped forward. The one through whom the Queen had already spoken once.
"I'm ready."
The Asari approached the queen and turned her back to her, and I put the girl to sleep with a light touch to her mind. The Queen didn't need to explain anything. The Asari did not even have time to settle to the floor, as the body convulsively jerked and slowly got to its feet.
"We remember you, singing. We see the enemy's music. Is he close?"
"He's still far away." I calmed the nervous Rachni. "This place holds their echoes."
Rahni stirred. I pointed to Sparatus, who was looking at Rachni with interest, and said:
"Queen. Here are those who are ready to hear your song. Counselor, speak up. The Queen will hear and understand you."
Sparatus came close. Very close, gazing intently at the huge creature sitting obediently on the metal floor and waiting for his words. The Queen didn't even move. She waited patiently. Rahni longs to live. She's afraid of getting killed. But... even this insect understands that alone it will not be able to find a suitable world and protect its offspring.
"We are ready to give you a world to colonize." Sparatus spoke slowly and clearly. "Are you ready to obey us? Become a part of our people? Live next to us. Fight with us? Stand side by side against our enemy?"
"We are ready to merge our music with the song of your people. We want to raise our children in harmony. We are ready to stand with you against those who want to plunge us into silence." a short pause. "We are weak now. We're alone now."
"We don't require immediate help."
"We agree. We will become a part of the music of your people."
Sparatus nodded slowly and sooo contentedly.
"Free your voice. There is a container against the wall in which you will be transported to your chosen world. You will be able to develop. We will watch and protect. We will not interfere."
"We will remember you."
"Can you wait out the long flight?"
"We're going to sleep."
"How do we wake you up?"
"We will feel the music of the living world."
Sparatus slowly bowed his head and walked away. The Asari sank to the floor without a sound, and the queen, mincing slightly, proceeded to a huge airtight box with a built-in life support system, where she sat down again and went into hibernation right in front of the stunned people.
That's it, trusting insect, you've fallen into kind and caring clawed hands. I don't doubt for a moment that practical Turians can accommodate this... an unusual replenishment for the benefit of the native Hierarchy with the greatest possible benefit. I do not know what the use of Asari is in this. Most likely, the Salarians simply did not dare to contact the Rachni, and they could not push through their destruction: the Turians and Asari did not allow it. My suspicions about the Hierarchy and the Republic are gnawing at me. Somehow they coordinate their actions very well. A union? Who knows. In the Council, Tevos and Sparatus are clearly playing on the same team, and Valern will have no choice but to agree. The beauties! You can't say anything.
While the Council soldiers were closing the container and taking it somewhere, I brought the marine to consciousness and handed over the dozen into the hands of Tevos, under her promise to arrange an Asari on the Citadel while I put the matriarch in order. That was the end of my promise to look after the young ladies, and I calmly left for Nihlus and Garrus under the watchful and somewhat thoughtful gaze of Sparatus. Tevos just twitched the corner of her lips and nodded slightly, as if the councilors had just confirmed some opinion and made a decision. If I hadn't been watching them so closely, I wouldn't have noticed. Interestingly, the attention was on Garrus!
The people gradually dispersed. The feisty Uriah left with Tevos and Valern, and Sparatus called us after him. The adviser was definitely pleased and did not hide it at all. And from whom? Only the four of us remained in the huge hall. It will be necessary, by the way, to somehow hint to him that a reasonable person of his status should not go unguarded. I hadn't forgotten about Lang and his future attack on the Council. However, a Turian can be called anything but defenseless. Unlike Canon, the adviser did not disdain personal armor and weapons at all, and now, outside the Council Chamber, he was wearing excellent medium armor hidden under a loose tunic cloak, a powerful pistol was visible in the grips, and a Turian blade was in the hip scabbard. I guess he hasn't given up on training either. His movements were too characteristic: the flexibility and plasticity of a wild beast, economy and noiselessness... No matter what position he holds, first of all he is a warrior. And only then — the politician.
"We will take Rahni under our protection." The councilor's calm, vibrant voice echoed loudly in the deserted room. "They will enter the Hierarchy as a vassal race."
"The Rachni themselves are not aggressive." I shrugged my shoulders. "but the fighters are good. Due to the specifics of their species, losses among ordinary fighters are not critical: they are not reasonable. And they cannot be subdued if the queens remain sane."
"The Asari said about the same thing." Sparatus grinned, looking at us with some kind of anticipatory interest. It's like I've seen it for the first time, my word! "Perhaps one of your friends will be interested... The hierarchy has initiated hearings on the cancellation of the genophage's sanction."
It was as if I had crashed into the air. Behind him, the Turians flashed with undisguised amazement. WHAT did they do?
"Are you going to cure the gene pool?"
"We applied it. We will heal him." Sparatus grimaced, twitching his mandibles in displeasure. "If we don't stop now, the Krogan will disappear as a species. It's not something to be proud of." sharp gaze of gray-green eyes. "We gave Rachni a chance at life. The Krogan are no worse. If you come across any information about the medicine, take it out."
"It will be done."
The counselor, with contented eyes and a stony face, contemplated our fucked-up faces. That's right... he had calculated everything correctly. He couldn't help but know that Rex was on our team. I doubt that such a solution has arisen recently. Surely the Hierarchy has been preparing for a long time. For what purposes? I have no idea. But obviously not out of love for his neighbor Krogan. There's a clear calculation here. Have you decided to subjugate the "turtles"? It looks like it! With such a significant parting word, Sparatus took off, leaving us to digest the news.
Waking up from their stupor, Nihlus and Garrus decided that it was better to digest such news somewhere in a more comfortable place and, preferably, pouring alcohol.
Sparatus is a snide bastard! He knows how to puzzle and unsettle!
After wandering around the technical district for about fifteen minutes, we found a taxi terminal, and an hour later we were disembarking in a dubious quarter of the Lower City. Hello, Cora's Lair! We haven't seen each other for a long time!
The bar has long found a new owner, but at first glance nothing has changed.: the same interior, the same faces, still writhing in the sensual dance of the Asari, there were also guards at the current owner's chambers, though this time from Turians and one person, two Krogan at the doors to the service compartments. There's a familiar bartender behind the bar, pouring drinks and... oh... who do I see!
"Garrus." my affectionate, full of anticipation voice caused quite a natural wave of apprehension.
"What?"
"Give me a grenade. I know you have it in your pocket."
Nihlus gasped, looking at my face in surprise, and Garrus, following my gaze, grinned knowingly and gave out the required information without question. Grabbing the thin disk, I threaded my way into the crowd without making a sound, moving towards my victim.
"Why would she need an assault grenade?"
Nihlus' quiet, wary voice was barely audible. There was a muffled chuckle in response.
"Look."
Loud rhythmic music beat on sensitive ears, the hubbub of the crowd, screams, shuffling footsteps of drunken sane, languid screams of dancers who were pinched in the ass once again, the clatter of glasses — the usual noise of the "Lair", it did not stop for a moment. Dreariness, longing, boredom... An abomination... The Krogan grimaced in displeasure, picked up the glass of disgusting booze and brought it to his mouth when...
Thin, delicate fingers gently touched his chin, slid along his neck in a very familiar caress, which sent a wave of cold down his spine. He didn't even feel the weight of the fragile girl hugging his neck under the fucking stares of the guards and the bartender. The Krogan froze.
A languid female voice whispered intimately and tenderly:
"Did you miss me, handsome?"
The glass cracked in his strong fingers and shattered into pieces. The booze flowed down the hands and table, washing away the sparkling glass...
"You're so ridiculously careless..." And the deadly icy disk of the grenade, squeaking, slid down the collar...
"Ten, pretty boy..." a painfully familiar voice cooed softly.
I never thought that you could take off your cuirass in five seconds! Especially the Krogan! But no, he did it... That's what experience and the right incentive do! The grenade fell to the floor, the blue lights of the combat platoon winking merrily. The Krogan picked it up, turned it off, stared at the number frozen on the screen, and slowly turned around, staring intently into my eyes.
"Ten MINUTES?!"
Ugh... So many emotions! Belated fear, shock, anger, rising rage, relief, misunderstanding, and... hmm... Admiration?
"I didn't specify."
The Krogan clenched his fists and scowled... And suddenly he burst out laughing. Nihlus and Garrus came up to me from behind, grinning broadly.
"Rin, you're incorrigible!" The Turian's vibrant voice, choked with laughter, elicited only a knowing grin and a wave of recognition from the Krogan.
Who would doubt that our nimble sniper would be recognized!
"Vakarian!"
"Greste."
"They say you quit." The Krogan calmed down, donned his cuirass, and slid the deactivated grenade into the hip pouch.
Garrus shrugged and leaned comfortably against the high counter.
"I'm tired of it."
"What about your fight against evil and your ideals of higher justice?" The Krogan asked sarcastically, sweeping the glass shards off the counter and onto the floor in one motion.
"And who said that I cheated on myself?" Garrus asked sarcastically, pulling up a high chair, motioning for me to sit on it.
I did not refuse the invitation, and settled down comfortably. Garrus played the role of the back perfectly, and Nihlus came closer and leaned back against the counter between me and the Krogan. Greste fully appreciated the maneuvers. He squinted, gazing intently into the impassive face of the openly amused Nihlus, and then, recognizing it, blinked in surprise.
"You have an interesting company. Would you introduce me?"
"I guess you've found out Nihlus."
The Krogan nodded.
"The spectr of the Council. Nihlus Krayk. Yes, I know. A well-known personality. They said you were dead." Nihlus twitched his mandibles and ironically agreed:
"I died."
But there was no trace of irony in the emotions. Just like in green eyes. Greste noticed, shook his heavy head in surprise, but did not continue the painful topic.
"Imagine your beautiful companion. This is the third time we've met, I've heard so many nice things about myself, it's breathtaking, and I don't even know from whom." Garrus grinned and put his hand on my shoulder.
"Irene Shepard."
I smiled. The guy turned out to be not vindictive and with humor.
"Was it really breathtaking?"
The Krogan smiled broadly, which looked good to an unprepared viewer... It's threatening.
"I've never been so impressed by anyone of your kind."
"Aren't you mad?"
In response, a booming, cheerful laugh.
"You can die of boredom in this hole. The local scumbags are brave only in the crowd, and when you meet one or two, they piss in their pants as soon as you growl at them." The Krogan snorted contemptuously.
"Oh, how! Don't you have enough adrenaline? Or whatever his role is."
Greste chuckled.
"You're the same as Vakarian. Without brakes." He looked at the laughing Turian. "Don't grin, you chitinous mug. How you disappeared, it got really boring. There is no such nerve-tickling feeling when you are waiting for a sudden shot from the most accurate scumbag C-SEC. Your colleagues are crooked-armed and cross-eyed, like blind Warren."
"You're exaggerating." The sniper snorted.
"Ha! Only you could put a bullet in the head as soon as it flashed. Offhand with a pistol. Pallin shouldn't have let you go. And you — walk carefully. There are a lot of people who have a knife hidden on you."
Garrus shrugged nonchalantly.
"And now he doesn't go alone." I grinned at him.
The Krogan laughed.
"I see it. I found myself a clan in spirit."
Garrus looked embarrassed, and all three of us laughed. The straightforward Greste said what he thought. It is not typical for Krogan to weave a lace of words and lies. They are straightforward and honest. So he said what he saw. Small, tightly knit... the clan. I thought about this idea, and it didn't cause rejection. None of us.
"Oh, I see this is news only for Vakarian." Tactful, like all Krogan. Garrus blinked in surprise at our gracious faces, then tilted his head to the side, thought for a moment, and simply nodded.
"The C-SEC doesn't protect you anymore, don't forget." Greste added. "And you've made a lot of enemies."
"We all have a lot of enemies." Nihlus replied diplomatically.
"But you're a Spectr! Few fools touch the operas of the Special Corps. Then you'll have problems and you won't live long."
"Nihlus is not the only Spectre in our small but extremely vindictive clan." I purred. "Garrus is the kind one."
The Turian gasped for air.
"Am I? Kind?"
Nihlus laughed. I smiled.
"You are Goodness itself in the flesh!"
The Krogan chuckled.
"Then who is Evil itself?"
"But we still have to go after our personal Evil." I smiled. Nihlus froze, his fingers convulsively gripping the edge of the counter. "He takes lessons from his universal incarnation. It improves your qualifications... And got carried away. Who doesn't? He has a gambling and adventurous nature, he has completely forgotten about himself, he does not take care of himself, he breaks his health..." I sighed. "So we'll have to fly over and bring him back to a close-knit family. And the same will be learned and will be lost for nothing... in isolation from reality.
The Krogan's eyes, round with amazement, are an amazing sight. The most interesting thing is that he still did not understand who he was talking about. But I was impressed. In advance.
"That's how it is..." a short shake of the heavy head. "Good luck in... bringing back your Evil."
Nihlus closed his eyes and nodded.
"I heard you've crossed paths with Rex Urdnot."
"There is such a thing." I smiled.
"No one has seen him for a long time." Krogan said suggestively.
"Well... I don't know, I don't know... When I saw him, he was happily rummaging through the arsenal."
Greste bowed his head in surprise.
"In what arsenal?"
"In the ship building."
"What ship?"
"On mine."
The Krogan blinked in surprise.
"What's Rex doing on your ship?" I glanced at the omny-tool screen.
"Judging by the time, he should now be eagerly gutting a package from the arsenals of the Special Corps. They were supposed to deliver it. What's your interest?"
"Urdnot Greste." The Krogan introduced himself with a grin.
Wow!
"Oh, how! Are you wondering where your leader is?"
"Do you know already?"
"Sure." I shrugged my shoulders. "As soon as he gets tired of hanging around with us and collecting all the problems of the galaxy on his ass, we will kindly throw him on the Tuchanka."
"He will never get tired of collecting all the problems of the galaxy."
Greste replied reasonably, knowing his leader very well.
We laughed.
"Okay, we'll get out of here. It's not very good to drink in a bar whose previous owner you shot."
Greste chuckled.
"So it was you?"
"I promised." I spread my hands. "Come on, handsome!"
On this cheerful note, we said goodbye and crawled to the exit. Almost at the door, I was acutely aware of someone else's heavy interest. Tripping slightly, I hung onto Garrus's arm and turned, falling slightly on my foot, quickly isolating the source from the crowd. A tall, powerful Turian in C-SEC armor. And the face is familiar... and tattoos like Garrus's...
Understanding came instantly. Holy shit! Vakarian is the elder...
The door closed, cutting us off from the bar.
"Rin, what happened?" I was carefully set on my feet.
"Garrus... Either I imagined it, or I saw your father." The guy shuddered. "And he followed us purposefully."
A moment of stupor and an uncertain answer:
"Rin... I'm not ready to talk to my dad right now..."
Nihlus blinked in surprise. We've never seen Garrus so lost and confused! It's true that things aren't going well with his dad.
"In that case, we'd better hurry."
When Kirrus Vakarian left the bar, there was no one in the dimly lit hallway. Sighing heavily, the man shook his head and wearily ran his hand over the comb. The son disappeared again in an unknown direction.
But this time he had a clue. Those two. He recognized the Turian. Nihlus Krayk. The spectr of the Council. Student of Saren Arterius. And an unknown human woman.
"What have you gotten yourself into, son..." The low voice faded into the silence.
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