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Two hours before the Council meeting
The soft beep of an incoming signal broke the silence of the office, attracting the attention of its owner. Advisor Sparatus opened the interface and looked at the name of the caller who had been calling him so persistently in the early morning. Director of C-SEC. The mandibles twitched and slowly crawled to the sides. Sparatus smiled broadly and touched the answer button, already guessing what his old friend was so eager to tell him. A window opened above the table, showing the face of the C-SEC director. The narrowed eyes, the mandibles pressed tightly to the cheeks, and the sudden movements clearly showed: Venari Pallin is furious.
"Advisor Sparatus." Pallin examined the room carefully.
"I'm alone, speak freely. What happened?"
A short pause, a deep breath, and...
"What happened? Your scumbags happened!" Venari exhaled sharply with a low growl, almost imperceptible to a human ear. "I have fifty-four corpses and more than three dozen wounded! Do you even know what they're doing?!!"
Sparatus raised his head shields in surprise.
"Who are we talking about?"
"Krayk and company."
Sparatus choked.
"Krayk, Shepard and Vakarian?"
"They are."
"Are you saying that these three killed so many people for no reason?"
Pallin grimaced.
"I didn't say there was no reason."
"Who did they kill?"
"Mercenaries and gang members from the Markets of the Lower City."
"Threesome?" Sparatus asked skeptically.
"Take a look for yourself."
The interface of the connected node flashed, informing about the forwarding of the video file. The advisor activated the holographic projector and brought the broadcast to it. A three-dimensional projection unfolded on the table: a taxi aircar landing and three sentients getting out of it, barely standing on their feet.
"Are they drunk?"
"Before losing touch with reality."
Then the two of them watched: the three of them pushing through the crowd, the Batarian, shouting, raising his gun, the Vakarian, waking up for a moment, shooting him in the forehead with one shot, the short stupor of those around him, the well-known Krogan, the leader of the gang, a short order and.. a massacre. Sparatus zoomed in on the image, rewound it a bit, and restarted it. The words rang out loudly in the silence of the office:
"Spectrum — do not touch. Kill Vakarian."
A short incomprehensible stupor of the trio, a surprised female voice:
"Garrus... And they want to kill you."
And the answer, spoken in a halting, vibrating voice.
"They always want to kill me."
Sparatus chuckled at this philosophical calmness and continued to watch very carefully as the young Turian, swaying slightly, raised his pistol and opened fire. The cold gray-green eyes stared intently, hard, analyzing and noting the amazing accuracy of the shooter and the economy of his measured movements, the well-coordinated work of his partners covering him. He still did not understand what exactly Shepard had done, causing short-term stupor and panic among the attackers, and noted the actions of Nihlus, shrouded in unnaturally dark biotic fire, which he had never shown before. But the young Vakarian got the most attention.
The recording ended when the trio got into a taxi. Sparatus stared thoughtfully at his friend's angry face, tapping his claw on the table.
"Interesting."
"Is that all you can say?" Pallin jumped up.
"What do you want to hear? It was self-defense. I saw it myself."
Pallin grimaced.
"Saw. The Spectr's are not subject to jurisdiction, but the Vakarian is completely. If desired and properly trained, he can even be convicted of self-defense."
Sparatus straightened up, looking at his friend's face with slight displeasure.
"Who?"
"The younger Vakarian has many enemies. All I needed was an excuse."
"Is that so?" The counselor frowned.
I am being asked to press charges.
"Krayk and Shepard won't leave him without help." Sparatus said the obvious fact for both of them.
"I understand it." Venari grimaced. "I have enough problems without two vengeful Spectres."
"I will solve the problem with Vakarian."
Pallin stared intently at his old friend's face. And the longer he looked, the more surprised his eyes became.
"You're not going to..."
The counselor chuckled.
"He will be a worthy addition to the Turian corps."
"He is uncontrollable and unpredictable!"
"So much the better." Sparatus raised his hand, interrupting the other's objections with a gesture. "Venari, did you know that the Spectrum Turian corps is the smallest?"
The C-SEC director blinked in surprise.
"no."
"Three times less in number than the Salarian and five times less than the Azarian. Finding a worthy candidate is a great success. Many do not stand up to the test and are eliminated. Those who remain..." Sparatus shook his head. "In the last ten years, we've only assigned three Specters from our race, and we've lost twelve!"
"I didn't know." Pallin was unpleasantly surprised.
"The younger Vakarian was put on surveillance six years ago. He fits. I can't throw away such promising candidates."
"What about the regulations?"
"He works with active Spectr's and has completed missions on Therum and Noveria. Krayk has been unofficially appointed as the curator. The regulations have been observed."
Pallin sighed and bowed his head.
"Do as you see fit. But hurry up."
Venari Pallin switched off. Sparatus thought about it, staring intently at the figure of a young kinsman, frozen with a raised pistol. Anticipation flickered in the gray-green eyes for a moment.
"What an opportunity..."
We literally led Garrus out of the Council Chamber by the hand under the understanding and extremely pleased gaze of Sparatus. Valern watched us with interest, but Tevos just smiled. I agree with Nihlus. Sparatusss... You bastard! He could have warned in advance or prepared at least a little mentally! But no... Look at the pleasure he gets from watching a confused Garrus who has fallen into a stupor. With fatherly affection, indeed!
The appointment surprised me, but not so much. I was secretly expecting something like this, but not so fast. Apparently, there was some reason that accelerated the events, but there was no particular desire to find out, although I assume that the massacre we staged at the Market was to blame. I'm afraid if we find out the truth, we'll have to stay at the Citadel, and someone will probably die. Sparatus is not someone who will rush or do anything rashly. There must be a reason. And the reason is serious.
Apparently, Nihlus had similar thoughts in his head, as he walked frowning and gloomy. Garrus was still out, mechanically shuffling his feet and going where he was being led, and returning to Nihlus' trashed apartment passed him by. Our sniper woke up only when he was forcibly seated on a sofa and a glass of strong alcohol was inserted into his hand.
"Drink up!" Nihlus muttered.
Garrus blinked, looking in surprise at the mess around us, turned his gaze to his kinsman, but obediently drank in one gulp. He choked and coughed, sucking in air with a wheeze.
"Feeling better?" I asked, carefully taking the glass from my convulsively clenched fingers.
The light blue eyes blinked.
The guy rubbed his face.
"thanks." a short pause and a confused: "It was... suddenly..."
Grabbing his right hand, I sat down next to him, slowly pulled off a short fingerless glove from his hand and threw it on a chair. Garrus paused, looking at me with surprise in his eyes as I examined his brush. He opened his mouth, but after thinking about it, he closed it and said nothing, allowing me to do what I want.
I hadn't had a chance to take a closer look at the Turian before. They rarely allowed outsiders to see their bodies at all. And it's not about embarrassment or any moral and religious prohibitions, but simply because representatives of other races react to them... not too adequate. They even wore gloves in public, even though I knew they were quite uncomfortable and annoying.
Garrus stared intently at my face while I felt his hand with interest. And what was he waiting for? Was he thinking up some kind of heresy again and patiently waiting for its confirmation? She looked into bright blue eyes. Well, exactly! He's used to being shunned by untrained people. Nihlus watched us for a couple of minutes, kicked away the bottles that had rolled across the floor and sat down on the armrest of the sofa next to me, and I felt clawed fingers digging into my hair, barely touching my scalp. Nice...
Where did the bad idea that Turians are prickly come from? Nothing like that! The exposed skin is dense, but very soft, velvety to the touch. Chitinous plates are smooth, hot, slightly rough, but by no means prickly! I stroked my hand with my fingertips, studying Garrus' reaction. He was perfectly aware of touch, not only on exposed skin, but also on chitinous plates, although not so acutely. It's interesting. I turned his hand upside down. A strong, broad male hand, with small chitinous plates on the back of the palm, forming a kind of natural knuckles with strong knuckles, but the inner side is soft. The fingers are long, flexible, twice as long and thicker than mine, counting the massive, strong claws. Anyway, the brush is larger, but the outlines are pleasant to the eye. The wrist is narrow, turning into a strong forearm, protected by a kind of shield made of solid chitin on the outside, darker than on the hand and much more durable, with a clearly visible metal patch. The elbow is sharp, ending in a predatory-looking short three-centimeter spike. The shoulder is strong. Under the natural exoskeleton, powerful muscles are visible, much stronger than those of a person of similar build. Turians are indeed much stronger than humans physically, second only to Krogan in sheer strength. And then, not much.
"Is it interesting?" Nihlus purred in my ear.
I leaned back, tilted my head back, meeting the gaze of bright green eyes.
"Very! I couldn't see it this morning. And then Sparatus, a kind soul, tore us off the spot."
Nihlus snorted.
"He's not going to let go that easily now. Working as an adviser sometimes causes him wild boredom. So he's having fun to the best of his vast abilities and sick imagination."
"And here we are?"
"yes."
"What's his interest?" Garrus asked.
"He's amused by our drinking sprees and Venari's screams." A clawed finger gently stroked my chin. "I believe Pallin sent him the recordings from the Market cameras."
"What's the point of Pallin himself?"
"He still hopes that Sparatus will keep us on a short leash." Nihlus grunted. "As far as I know, they are old friends and served together after graduation. Sparatus looks at the antics of his Spectr's with a bit of irony, until we start tearing the Citadel to pieces and killing for no reason."
"And Pallin?"
"And Pallin freaks out when he has to sort out the next problems for us."
"He can be understood." Garrus said.
"You can, of course. So we try not to do much on the Citadel..." He waved his hand vaguely. "How should I put it that way?.. Keep yourself in line. And here... Fifty-four bodies. So he howled."
Garrus froze.
"How much?"
"Sparatus said fifty-four." Nihlus grinned. "I guess at least half of them came from a neat hole in the head." Garrus lowered his eyes. By God! If he could blush, he would!
"The Special Corps has been watching you for quite some time. I've been writing reports on you to Sparatus for the fourth year now."
Garrus blinked in surprise.
"Yes, yes." the green-eyed ulcer grinned in full grin. "Four years, with all the details and a complete analysis of your actions, with an assessment of your fighting qualities, behavior, results and mistakes." Nihlus bent down and buried his nose in my hair. "Soft... And you smell delicious."
"Will you bite?" I smiled.
"I'll think..." He purred in response in a delightful vibrant voice.
"Think carefully. Haven't you forgotten? I am a metamorph." in front of Garrus, who was surprised to the point of amazement, I grew a long claw and showed it to Nihlus.
"Forgot." He gently touched the tip of the claw and, naturally, cut himself deeply. "However..."
"I can get a practically monomolecular edge." I cupped his finger and licked off the blue blood. "The possibilities of my body are endless." the wound in my eyes has healed.
"But how did it happen? The body was human..."
"The soul is primary and adjusts the body to its needs." I shrugged, returning my hand to its usual shape. "After moving in, the aura unfolds in the same way as that of a newborn. Layer by layer, except much faster. The body adjusts itself. My aura is very energetic. So... A month, well, a month and a half, and I'm a full-fledged metamorph again.
"But HOW is this possible?"
"We are all energy, Nihlus. And one energy can easily influence another, embodied in a material form. This is the basis of magic. Any. The inclination and power of the soul initiates the development of the core in the physical body, as far as reality allows. But there is something that is universal everywhere, even in the depths of Chaos. His gifts and curses." I smiled. "Mentalism is one of these gifts. This is a property of the mind and soul. Not bodies. Once you become a mentalist, you will always remain one, as long as you keep your mind. Mind magic based on vital energy. It does not depend on the outside world and its laws. It does not require external energy sources, as for some other species."
"You're talking about magic like it's real." Garrus said softly.
Instead of answering, I raised my hand, forming what people almost always called a fireball or arrow. A small spherical ball of fire burned merrily in the palm of his hand, driving both Turians into a state of stupor.
"This reality is extremely poor in the energy needed to use elemental magic. What I put into this balloon, in a normal magically active world, is enough to demolish an entire city from the face of the planet, drowning it in lava. That's why I don't use magic. Ineffective. A regular rifle will do the same damage. The only thing that works without misfires is that it relies on an internal reserve or on a Fundamental Principle that doesn't care about such small things as the laws of reality at all."
"But CAN you use it?"
"I can, of course." I shrugged my shoulders. "I've been reborn more than twenty times already. And there were only seven incarnations in non-magical worlds. Counting this. Naturally, I know a lot and can do a lot, trying to learn something in each incarnation, even if it only lasts a couple of days or hours." Nihlus shuddered, gripping my shoulder tightly. "Yes, there were some. So... You know that. Just because I'm not doing something doesn't mean I can't do it. True, I haven't reached my full strength yet, but that's very soon. I feel. A qualitative leap is coming soon."
"And then what?"
"And then I will get full control over everything that I have managed to bind to my soul. For example, to your spatial pocket. And there I have useful things that don't even have close analogues in this reality."
"How did you become like this? A wanderer through life?" Garrus asked quietly.
"An accident." I shrugged my shoulders. "I was born in a completely non-magical world." Even you have a kind of magic tied to the life energy of the carrier and the radiation catalyst. Biotics. And in my home world, there wasn't even the slightest manifestation. But come on... after death, she woke up in someone else's body."
"And no idea how it happened?" Nihlus asked cautiously.
"Well, why not? There is a certain mechanism for the appearance of people like me. I'll tell you later. I met the attentive gaze of green eyes. Irene promised to tell you later.
Nihlus nodded in agreement and buried his nose in my hair again.
"Do we have until tonight?" Garrus asked.
"Yes. The crew is partially disabled. Ship on loading: Sebastian complained about the strange selection of products, so I sent him shopping. Anyway, the bill will go to the military department of the Alliance. Let them pay for the grub for their crew."
"Won't they whine?"
"They will, of course. But dextro-products are paid for by the Council. I can live perfectly well without ordinary people, but people can't. We'll feed Joker, Karin, Rex and Liara out of our own pockets. Oh, and the engineering room. Although it is difficult to feed Rex."
Nihlus snorted, and Garrus couldn't help but smile.
"And if he doesn't pay?"
"I'll drop you off at the demons at the nearest station. At least there will be a reason to get rid of them without blood. And then they got it — they don't have the strength."
Garrus shook his head in surprise.
"What are our plans?"
"Clean up the dilute garbage." Nihlus muttered. "The apartment looks like they've been partying in it for three days!"
"Yes. It wouldn't hurt." I nodded in agreement. "Otherwise, I'm afraid a new life will be born here by our return."
The Turians laughed.
In order to speed up the process, we distributed the responsibilities and started cleaning. While Garrus and I were collecting bottles and trash, Nihlus started cleaning up, starting with the least affected area, the bedroom. Collecting the bottles in bags, I was just amazed how we managed to suck out so much and not end up in the infirmary with poisoning. To drink SO MUCH strong alcohol — it was necessary to manage! Garrus wiped the table and the spilled alcohol off the floor. Picking up the last ones, I stomped into the kitchen, where there was a waste disposal unit, when...
A wave of pure, uncluttered rage and bloody rage swept through the mental plane. I was numb. What is it? The bottles slipped out of my hands and splattered across the floor. Garrus whirled around and looked at me questioningly. The rage crystallized into a clear and meaningful desire to kill.
"Nihlus?" I asked cautiously.
The door opened and Nihlus biotics, glowing dark blue, almost purple with crimson reflections, slowly entered the hall, clutching them in his hands... the datapad. Oh mother... It must have fallen out of my pocket yesterday...
"Where does this come from?" The icy voice trembled with rage, breaking into sounds that I could barely hear.
"Jeff put together a crew for me from the chatter." I shrugged, realizing that it was pointless to deny it, and the enraged Turian would shake out the truth.
"What's there?" Garrus asked cautiously.
Instead of answering, Nihlus silently tossed him a datapad. Garrus caught it and started reading. I closed my eyes. That's it... Now I'm going to have two Turians in a rage. And... what a Chaos! They have a right to know! Maybe if they kill a couple of idiots, others will start making friends with their heads!
An outburst of rage, much more powerful and destructive, ripped through the mental. Garrus clenched his fingers so that the datapad crackled. Soothing with words is pointless. I just went over and hugged the pissed-off Turian.
"Never mind."
"Are you protecting them?" Nihlus literally growled.
I turned my head, looking into the green eyes in surprise.
"Don't be silly!"
"Why didn't you tell me then?" Garrus asked, slowly calming down.
"So that you can kill them?" I snorted into the warm fabric of my T-shirt. "Yes, we would have been too tired to wash the ship of blood later. There's no point getting your hands dirty about them. But if you really want to, you can break all the bones and chop off someone's guts."
The biotic glow disappeared, and Nihlus swore softly.
"You're right. Get your hands dirty about them... No, you shouldn't. But it's better for them to start watching their language. I can rip it out."
"Rip it out. Maybe your brain will start working. Otherwise, we've completely lost our fear." I shrugged my shoulders. "But they were certainly right about one thing..."
"Really..." Garrus purred.
The Turians exchanged glances, and then Garrus bent down and picked me up in his arms.
"You do realize that you're going to have to finish cleaning anyway, don't you?" I said, wrapping my arms around his neck.
"Nothing. We'll clean it up later... ourselves..." Garrus promised and carried me to the bedroom.
"Then..." I gently slid my fingers over the golden-coffee skin. "Agreed... Later, then later."
Garrus swallowed, momentarily losing his stride. Lifting herself a little on his arms, slowly, barely touching the skin with her lips, she kissed his neck, barely noticeably grabbing the skin with her teeth. The strong arms tightened, and Garrus almost stumbled, barely fitting into the doorway. A couple of quick steps and I'm on the bed, and the Turian pulls back, staring intently into my face with bright light blue eyes.
Nihlus sat down on the bed to my right, carefully ran a clawed hand over my face, dug into my hair, passing short strands between his fingers.
"They're so soft..." The heavy head bowed, he buried his face in his hair, took a deep breath.
"Hold on..."
I pulled back a little, shook my head, and my hair began to grow rapidly... until a long, waist-length, heavy mane fell on my back.
"Being a metamorph... There are advantages to this."
Nihlus exhaled softly, ran his hands through his long hair, tremulously rolling the shiny red strands between his fingers.
"I've never seen it... so long..." he buried his face in my hair, pressing his forehead against my back. "Gentle... Only your race has that... Hair." A quiet chuckle. "I would never have thought that they would be so... They're attractive..."
Garrus kicked off his shoes and lay down on the left, propping himself up on his elbow and pulling up my T-shirt, exposing my stomach.
"Soft." He rubbed his face against my stomach like a cat, barely noticeably tickling my skin with his breath. "And you smell delicious..." The sharp teeth barely bit the skin, causing an involuntary groan.
Garrus pulled back a little, exchanged glances with Nihlus... and with four hands, they shook me out of my clothes, knocking them haphazardly to the floor. Along with his own. We'll leave tomorrow, but there's only the three of us here right now. Me, Nihlus and Garrus.
Nihlus stuck tightly to my mane, almost meditating on the long red strands, fingering them, pressing his face, inhaling the scent, and I... studied the young Turian sitting in front of me, slowly sliding my fingers and lips over his body. Feeling him shudder at every touch, as unusual as a light kiss, inaccessible to his race. Blue clan tattoos appeared not only on the face, but also on the body, crossing the shoulders and chest with strict straight lines. Hot breath burned my skin: Nihlus had had enough of playing with my hair and turned his attention to my back, barely noticeably grabbing the skin with his hard lips. Well, he's doing it... bright, clear feelings intoxicated the head and shattered the remnants of hard-to-maintain self-control...
"My..." a barely audible whisper and hot breath, slowly sliding along the spine. "Ours.".. — the tickling touch of a long tongue.
"Our." Garrus echoed, sitting up abruptly, staring intently at my face. "You know what I mean...
"We are," Nihlus corrected him, eagerly nibbling my neck, barely grabbing the skin with his teeth.
"We will never let you go."
"I'm not going anywhere." I smiled and cupped his face in my hands. "If you don't want to."
"Never..." the heavy combed head leans against my shoulder, Garrus slowly inhales my scent, sliding his hard lips over my neck, almost in sync with Nihlus. "Not in this life, Irene..." sharp teeth grab the skin and easily bite through it, a long tongue licks off the droplets of blood.
"Not in this life..." Nihlus echoes, and another gentle bite...
And I have a growing feeling that I completely do not understand the essence of the action that took place... almost a ritual... important, critically important, which I MUST understand...
The ringing of the instrumentron from Nihlus's hand sounded like a mockery. A barely audible, elusive sound, similar to a growl, and Nihlus, opening his eyes, deployed the interface, looking displeased at the flashing icon.
"Sparatus..." and again that barely audible sound.
There was no desire to blow up and get dressed in a hurry, but you can't ignore it... But I really wanted to...
"Turn it on without video broadcasting." I shrugged my shoulders.
Talon touched the video link icon, turning off the camera, and pressed receive. A window opened above the Turian's forearm, showing Sparatus' darkened office and himself, looking at us with a satisfied face. No. Not like that. LOOKING at us. Nihlus blinked in surprise, the advisor's face became even more malicious. We all looked at the video communication icon. Turned off. The face of Sparatus. Snide, understanding, and smuuug... The counselor understood our pantomime more than correctly, and therefore, instead of greeting and explaining the reason for the call, we heard:
"When a member of the Citadel Council calls, the video link is activated automatically without the permission of the other subscriber."
Nihlus made a muffled gurgle, and Garrus whinnied faintly at the top of my head. Damn it...
"I didn't know." Nihlus sighed.
"Now you know." a snide answer.
Sparatus is definitely bantering! Brazenly, obviously, demonstratively, without even trying to cover up such inappropriate emotions for a member of the Citadel Council. The same for me... I found a personal entertainment... And you're not going to send him! And he knows it perfectly well, which he uses completely shamelessly! My heart feels that we are provided with early calls from the adviser at the most inopportune moments...
Damn it! There's nothing worse than a bored, powerful, imaginative mind... Okay, that's it...
As they say, it's too late to rush around. Sparatus understood our sour faces quite correctly, and therefore finally went directly to the reason for such an unsuccessful call:
"Agents of the Special Task Force reported that Saren Arterius arrived on Feros today."
"On the Lord?" I asked.
"No. An ordinary ship. The Reaper did not appear." sharp gray-green eyes bored into my crumpled face. "Is this news to you?"
"No. We knew that there was a laboratory on Feros, but there was no reason for us to fly there immediately. Benezia did not know that the project was completed or even close to successful completion. His goal is to obtain a Prothean cipher that will help turn the confusing images from the lighthouse into coherent visions. I don't need it. The information has already been analyzed and fully assimilated. I decided not to interfere ahead of time. Maybe they can do it. And Saren shouldn't have been bothered. There will be less twitching, more chances of a successful capture."
Sparatus nodded in agreement, accepting my explanation.
"Apparently, the development was successful. Perhaps you should send a group to Feros with those who should receive this cipher. Just in case."
Sparatus nodded again, quickly calculating something.
"Does your goal not change?"
"No. We're leaving for Vermaer in a couple of hours. Saren will return to his main base anyway. Perhaps we can get into her territory without making too much noise and capture Saren without storming. He would be... inappropriate. The laboratory is protected like a fortress. You can't just take her." Sparatus twitched his mandibles ironically. "Rather, it will work out, but the losses will be unreasonably high. I immediately corrected myself. He has another active buoy. Perhaps the information from it will help to clarify the location of the mu relay."
"Go ahead."
"Advisor Sparatus."
"I'm listening."
"If you're going to send a group to Feros... Let her be well armed and fully protected from biological contamination. There are rumors... They're not good. About a strange creature that can infect and take control." The gray-green eyes narrowed sharply. "The information is unreliable, but it's better not to take unnecessary risks with such things."
"I'll keep that in mind." he told me how he put it, and hung up.
Well all... the end of the Thorian. Sparatus Feros will take it apart to the core, but this shrub will be plucked out and put into action. Or burn it to the last root.
"He reacted calmly." I grumbled. "He just made a joke. And that's very neat and quite tactful."
"We are not the first, we are not the last, caught by him in such a situation." Nihlus shrugged his shoulders. "I myself heard colleagues scoffing." he stammered and confessed: "I didn't know about the specifics of video communication..."
"Apparently, the others didn't know either." Garrus said philosophically.
"Sparatus has been an advisor for a long time and sometimes he is frankly bored. At such moments, the entire Special Corps howls from him. And not just Turian. He was once a Spectrum himself, so the corps knows from the inside like no one else, and he also knows perfectly well how to get Spectr."
"Just out of boredom?" I asked skeptically.
"Rather, so that they don't lose their tone." Nihlus chuckled. "And they didn't relax. If one of the operatives takes off above the atmosphere, they are quickly lowered face-first onto the rocks, setting up non-fatal but humiliating situations."
"Uriah?"
"I suppose so. But it's not clear who she is, Tevos or Sparatus. And it doesn't matter. If he doesn't get the hint the first time, he will repeat it. In a more violent form."
"What if she harms those who are being used as a visual aid?"
"He won't be able to. Such a victim is watched very carefully."
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.
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