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The ship exited the stage with a noticeable and already familiar jolt, shaking the entire hull. The Normandy has arrived at the Hawk system. It's a three-hour flight to Vermaer.
"Captain, we're out of relay." The Joker's calm voice rang out.
"Turn on the camouflage system and approach Vermire." I replied. "Are there any signs of the Lord's presence?"
"Not at all."
"Get into orbit." I turned to the surprisingly quiet and accommodating people on the command deck. "Take a picture of the surface on the coast of the Astika Sea. From this moment until our return, to remain completely silent."
There is a blissful silence in response. Not a single peep, not even an unnecessary glance. Everyone has their faces buried in terminals and is plowing for the benefit of their dear superiors. Me. Pressley stands almost at attention. After taking a look at the tense crowd, I left, giving them the opportunity to relax a little and get to work without looking at my person. That's what a warning, properly understood and communicated to them in an accessible form, does to people. All I had to do was make it clear that I wasn't joking for a moment when I honestly warned: one word of slander or any attempt to bully the special forces soldiers, and whoever did it would fly out the airlock to row home on their own.
Two days ago
A bright rage bordering on bloody rage pulled me out of a mental trance, tearing me away from my hard work. Who's in such a good mood? Nihlus? No... Garrus? Exactly. Damn it, did someone say something again? Yes, as much as you can! Are they completely fucked up there?
"Joker, what just happened?"
There was a brief moment of silence, and the pilot's apprehensive voice answered:
"Rin... You need to see for yourself..."
Damn them...
"I'll take a look. Where?"
"Canteen."
Thanking the pilot, I got up and, swaying slightly with fatigue, trudged into the dining room. The wave of emotions grew, colored by interesting details. By the time I entered the room I was looking for, the atmosphere there was stormy.
The doors swung open without a sound. I went into the dining room, having managed to hear the end of the sentence:
"...knows what you're doing there."
Oh, how interesting... I was noticed almost instantly. The people shut up, and I looked at this composition: an enraged Garrus, whose hand was trembling dangerously close to the pistol he had always carried with him lately, and a group of seven guys from the operators of the navigation and sensor complex. The axis of the Turian's rage was Addison Chase.
"What. Here. Is it happening?" I asked in a measured voice, typing every word.
A minute of silence. Garrus tries to calm down, even though his fingers are getting closer and closer to the hilt.
"Garrus, get your hand off the gun." The guy flinched, but took his hand away. "I know that you will have time to shoot them before they come out of their stupor. But this is my crew..." The Turian shuddered, and the people relaxed, "and I will train them." — now the guys tensed up, and the Turian chuckled. "Since they didn't learn anything at the Academy."
Only a deaf person would not have heard the threat in my voice. Garrus nodded in agreement, crossed his arms over his chest, making it look like he was washing his hands. That's lovely.
"I'm asking for the last time. What. Here. happened?"
"Captain, we disagree with yours... a fighter." Chase informed me, very emphatically singling out "fighter" in an extremely obscene voice.
"I raised an eyebrow. A small-grass bastard..."
"That's how? And in what opinion did you disagree with the Council's Spectr, Garrus Vakarian?"
"Oh, why are you so emotional? Didn't you know, boys?"
Of course they didn't! It's a surprise, isn't it? Garrus snorted.
"The spectr of Advice?" asked the tall man, who had been watching the whole conflict from behind the distribution table.
"Taks Carlton, if my sclerosis doesn't let me down."
"Unexpected, isn't it?" the guys recoiled from my kind look. "Don't make me repeat the question and answer it in detail, otherwise I will find out the answer from the Joker. And I'll get it, won't I?"
"Undoubtedly, Captain!" Jeff replied immediately.
"I'm listening to you very carefully."
"We... they doubted... in..." the guy swallowed, but he couldn't tell me the gossip.
I caught the fierce light blue gaze, easily reading the vivid last memory, and anger took my breath away. Is that what it means? How amazing are the things that can be done under a long-suffering all-terrain vehicle...
"Joker, record the rest of the conversation."
"Yes, Captain."
I turned my gaze to the people who had turned pale.
"Have you been warned to whom you are being placed at the disposal of this ship?" I asked the question dispassionately, feeling my fingers tremble, and the tips tingle from the energy concentrating on them.
There were simultaneous nods in response.
"Answer me!"
"Yes, ma'am."
"What do you mean, "Yes, ma'am"? Are you unable to answer a simple question?"
"you, Spectr Shepard." they barked simultaneously in seven sips.
How sweet... It would be better if they were doing their work with the same enthusiasm, and not poisoning my nerves.
"Do you know who the Spectr are?"
"Special Tactical Intelligence Corps operatives, ma'am!"
"Do you know what rights we have?"
"Unlimited, ma'am!"
"Do you know what tasks the Council Spectr's solve?"
"Tasks that threaten the peace and stability of the Galaxy, ma'am!"
"Fine... At least something was hammered into your heads during the briefing." I chuckled, staring at the seven idiots. "There are THREE active members of the Spectr's Cansil on board the Normandy, performing the same task. Anyone sane and reasonable, using their head for its intended purpose, could have guessed that this task has an EXTREMELY high priority, since they sent not one Spectre, as usual, but three."
People exchanged glances.
"And knowing this, are you deliberately violating my orders, sabotaging our mission, and distracting me from my tedious, exhausting, and extremely painstaking work by spreading dirty gossip, provoking conflicts with my colleagues and members of my group? You're jeopardizing our mission."
These idiots squinted at my haggard face and the circles under my eyes and... flashed with outright fear.
"I'm sorry, ma'am... We didn't know."
"You weren't supposed to know." The temperature of my voice was rapidly approaching cosmic. "You must do your job on board this ship in silence and not interfere with our work!"
In response — understanding, fear, close to panic. And not a shadow of remorse. How sweet...
"Did I warn you, what would be the consequences if I heard even one more idle gossip or provocation of racial conflict?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Did I warn you not to bully my colleagues and special forces soldiers?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"It's great that you all knew everything. Have I warned you, what will be the punishment for those who do not heed my warnings?"
"Yes, ma'am..."
But now there was a full awareness and understanding of the situation on their faces. And — fear. No, it's not like that. Horror. Didn't you believe it? And completely... for nothing.
It wasn't difficult or troublesome for me to take control of the seven sentients. Blocking their vocal cords, I silently left the dining room, followed by twitching bodies, frantically shuffling their legs and gushing with panic. Nihlus came out to this intensity of emotions, watching the execution with interest. Everyone was watching with interest: the crew members, the XO, the Joker. Passing by Pressley, who was about to open his mouth, I shut him up with one look. I must have had an expressive face, because not a single sound came out.
The first airlock door opened with a barely audible hiss. I pushed seven idiots in. The door slid back into place.
"Joker, start the airlock depressurization process according to the E-189 protocol."
"Captain?" the pilot asked, still unable to believe the order he had given.
"Don't make me repeat myself."
"Yes... captain."
People were shocked to see the depressurization process according to the protocol I set. It's a slow, nerve-racking process. The E-189 protocol involved pumping out air, opening the outer flap of the airlock and blowing out the contents. It takes about twenty seconds if you open the outer flap. If you don't open it, the air just drains out. The latter option is used when the ship is moving between relays, when it is not recommended to violate the integrity of the hull. That's how it is now.
I let go of control of the seven people, but the massive door completely muffled the sounds. But the camera in the airlock allowed everyone to watch as the air was drained, as panicked people began to suffocate, and as they sank lifelessly onto the metal floor.
"The Joker. Abort the protocol. Open the internal gateway."
"Yes, Captain." the pilot sighed with relief.
You shouldn't be happy. Technically, they're dead. If Karin doesn't pump it out, they'll die completely, and there's not much time. I looked around at the numb sentients and coldly explained:
"The protocol will not be interrupted next time."
After examining the silent people and motionless bodies that were already being taken out of the airlock, I turned around and went to the infirmary. I hope this warning is understood correctly, otherwise next time I really won't stop the depressurization procedure. And it will happen much faster and without unnecessary special effects according to the standard protocol, where the doors open almost instantly, and all the excess from the airlock chamber is swept into space at a pressure drop.
When I returned to the infirmary, Karin was already conjuring over the bodies of idiots.
"You're adding to my work." she said with a slight hint of displeasure.
I shrugged my shoulders.
"In an amicable way, they should have just been thrown into space. But you should not open the external gateway during the transfer unless absolutely necessary."
Karin gave me a hard look.
"I can't say that I support such drastic methods. I'm a doctor. My job is to save lives. There are enough people on this ship who take them away." The doctor sighed. "But I can't help but admit it. The situation has gone too far. People relaxed without feeling the hard hand. You're almost constantly absent, disappearing into the infirmary or your cabin. There are young people in the crew. You are a young and beautiful woman, Irene. They don't see you as a direct guide and don't understand that you can be dangerous and cruel."
"I noticed that. They've also heard enough of the Alliance's propaganda and are ready to prove to everyone and everyone how great and cool people are." I shook my head wearily. "And this is despite the fact that humanity entered the galactic arena barely thirty years ago."
"You spend a lot of time in the company of non-humans. Especially the Turians. They don't like it."
Karin's slight smile made it clear to me that my relationship with Nihlus and Garrus was no secret to the doctor. I shrugged my shoulders.
"My personal preferences are my personal preferences. And I am deeply indifferent to the trampled feelings of those who are not part of mine... at least the middle circle. But someone forgot that Turians are raised a little differently. For Garrus and Nihlus, the words "honor" and "dignity" are not empty words. Do you understand HOW it could all end?"
"The massacre."
"Exactly. And no one in the entire Citadel would have convicted them of murder. Even without looking at the status of the Spectr."
"This could cause a conflict with the Alliance."
"Karin, what kind of conflict are we talking about?" I grimaced. "The Alliance will never decide on a direct armed conflict. If the Council hadn't vetoed the invasion, the Hierarchy would have split up the Alliance and bombed humanity into the Stone Age, despite all the heroism of some people. They only have a regular fleet seven times bigger. This is not counting the fact that war is natural for Turians and is an integral part of the culture."
"Irene, this generation grew up with stories about the First Contact War."
"To call a War with a capital letter an ordinary two-month border skirmish in which six hundred and twenty-three people died is at least... strange. I snorted. — Yes, during the explosion of ships over inhabited planets and exposure to the zero element, hundreds of times more died. Just some kids. And people did it. So we shouldn't talk about the value of human life, since we don't value it ourselves."
Karin couldn't find anything to object.
"Logic and common sense are not always characteristic of young people."
"I noticed that they don't have brains." I shook my head, watching Karin work. "You know that I'm considered a sick scumbag in the service, right? Such a human version of Saren Arterius in a feminine manner."
"I heard." Karin replied, without even turning her head, bending over the body, which was still not showing signs of life.
"Karin. I am an orphan who grew up on the streets of the megacities of the Earth, and I don't really like people. No problem. There's nothing keeping me in the Alliance. Generally. The command knows this very well, but I have never given any reason to doubt my loyalty to my immediate commander."
"And now?" Karian was distracted and looked up at me intently.
"And now it's the Citadel Council. The Alliance voluntarily gave me over for its own political reasons. I am excluded from the list of military personnel."
"And?"
"I am loyal to my immediate superiors." I replied dryly, staring intently into Karin's widened eyes.
"The Citadel Council?"
"Yes. My loyalty now belongs to them."
Karin looked at me in shock. Is that unexpected? But this is understandable to any reasonable person who knows what my recipient was like. Irene was really loyal to her superiors... and every time it changed, her loyalty was transferred to a new object. The last one was Captain Anderson.
"And you don't have any attachments in the Alliance?" I looked skeptically at this seemingly intelligent woman.
"No."
"I did not know."
I shrugged my shoulders. The ruthlessness of the original Irene had a very specific and simple explanation: indifference. She was deeply indifferent to the opinions and lives of those around her, except for a very narrow circle of reasonable people, which included her immediate commander, her squad, and, partially, her direct entourage like the ship's crew. It wasn't cruelty. Simple efficiency and complete indifference. The task must be completed at all costs. Point. That's all the interests of this beautiful red-haired girl. A perfect example of the social adaptation of an orphan with a difficult childhood, who grew up on the streets and joined the army at the age of eighteen out of desperation. And then the psyche broke down completely, giving birth to such a lovely creature.
What can I say if the brightest moments in her life after school were the commendations of the commander for successfully and flawlessly completed missions.
"I'm sorry, Irene."
I waved it away.
"Not worth it. My life started all over again after Eden Prime. You know, the lighthouse really shook my brain. When you watch the death of an alien civilization over and over again, with all the emotions and feelings of the one who recorded these paintings... it is impossible to remain indifferent. I can't see them as strangers. The soul of that unknown protean hurt the same way as a human. Rage, powerlessness, horror, pain... Feelings, Karin, they are universal. The soul has no race. I still can't forget the pain that the Protean felt when looking at his burning homeworld."
Karin said nothing, absorbed in her work. But I knew she'd heard me. Emotions never lie. Even a thought may lie, but feelings never do. And now Karin was rethinking... a lot of things.
"We don't just wander around the galaxy. We have a mission. A mission that Irene would do anything to complete. If we fail, no one will survive. Neither Turians, nor Asari, nor Salarians, nor Vorka, nor humans, nor Batarians... nobody. We will repeat the fate of the Protheans. And then OUR worlds will burn." Karin jerked and looked at me in surprise. Unable to find a hint of a joke, the doctor frowned. "The enemy is millions of years old. Do you understand WHAT kind of enemy this is? We are saving the galaxy without any jokes or exaggerations. Along with the Alliance, by the way, from which there is no real help and a lot of problems."
"They gave me the Normandy."
"The council has prepared a ship for me. The spectrum is ALWAYS provided by a personal ship immediately after the appointment. Nihlus said that a corvette designed for fifteen sentients was waiting for me in the hangar at the Citadel if for some reason I refused this ship. It's exactly the same as Garrus' and Nihlus' own." I chuckled. "Karin. I don'T need the Normandy. I'm just showing respect for people by continuing to mess with the ship and its troubled crew. No more than that."
Karin thought about it, and I returned to the matriarch, who was sitting listlessly on a cot in the corner of the infirmary farthest from the door, hidden from prying eyes by a raised screen. It's time to finish with the drill. At my command, the matriarch opened her sightless eyes, and I slipped into her mind.
Charles Pressley is a hereditary military man. He spent his entire adult life pursuing a military career, and fulfilled his childhood dream of deep space by joining the armed forces immediately after graduating from high school and serving on spaceships. His current duty station was perceived by him as a great opportunity to see the galaxy and the races inhabiting it, to serve Humanity and represent its interests, albeit as the navigator of an experimental ship. Recent events and the new captain had somewhat unsettled him: the aliens on board were not happy, but he had come to terms with their presence, as well as with some of the captain's oddities.
Of course, he had read the characterization of Irene Shepard, but the dry facts about her unparalleled cruelty did not want to fit into his mind: Charles saw a young, very beautiful woman with bright green eyes and an unusual color of fiery red, almost red hair. The captain seemed to him to be a somewhat naive, cheerful woman, caring about her people and ... not people, with a violent temper and a bright character. He never saw any correspondence with what was written in her dossier. Until today. The demonstrative execution, actually brought to a logical conclusion, for a moment revealed to the senior officer a completely different face of his captain. And the fact that she interrupted the depressurization process did not at all smooth out her words and actions. The people in the airlock had suffocated and were now in intensive care in the infirmary.
The XO waited until the end of the watch, fortunately, there were only twenty minutes left before it, and went to someone who could give him answers to questions: to the pilot. The Joker noticed him right away:
"Senior assistant."
"Joker, I'd like to know the reason for today's incident."
The pilot hesitated.
"There's been a conflict between the crew and the Council Spectr, sir."
"On what grounds."
The Joker turned around, looked closely at Charles, and then simply handed him the datapad.
"This was collected by me in the last two weeks."
"What's here?"
"Gossip, sir. The crew."
Charles turned on the datapad and immersed himself in reading. Each entry was dated, indicating who had said it to whom. Charles read to the end, read the last entry from today twice, turned off the device and returned it to the Joker.
"Did the captain see that?"
"Yes, sir. Even before the last visit to the Citadel." The pilot hesitated. "The Turians saw it too."
Pressley flinched.
"Did they read it?"
"Yes."
For the first time, Charles couldn't find a decent answer.
"Why are they..."
"The captain was able to convince them not to touch the crew."
"Thank you, Mr. Moreau."
Joker nodded, and Pressley left the control room. Walking along the deck of the ship, he wondered how he himself would react to such an insult. He wasn't too pleased with the answer... The Turians showed amazing restraint and self-control, and the captain showed eloquence if she convinced the proud creatures not to bring the matter to blood. After thinking about it, the XO entered the elevator and went to the hold.
The Turians were indeed in the hold: the Spectr's were fighting. Sparring in full contact, without restraining strength, without sparing the opponent, using everything, even the dirtiest techniques for the sake of victory. Ashley and Kayden watched the fight with interest, Krogan sat a little to the side, bringing his shotgun to an unattainable ideal, keeping half an eye on the fighters. Pressley stopped at the elevator. It was the first time he had seen such a fight, although he had often heard that Turians and Krogan often fought in the hold.
The fight ended unexpectedly: both Turians froze, as if the fierce, swift, barely noticeable blows had not been there just moments ago. The reason turned out to be simple: the claws of Nihlus Kgauk froze on the opponent's neck dangerously close to the artery. Long, deep scratches had already filled with blood on Vakarian's neck, but Krayk was not without consequences either: deep lacerations from missed blows could be seen on his forearm and shoulders.
"You're distracted again." Krayk approached the ROVER, picked up the panacelin ointment from its side and threw one jar to his kinsman.
"I know." The sniper calmly unscrewed the lid, scooped up the ointment and applied it to the deep scratches. "Shooting gallery?"
Krayk gave his kinsman a long look.
"To compete with you in shooting is to be an idiot. You can't even miss when you're drunk."
In response, Vakarian snorted, picked up his visor and put it on his head.
"How long are you going to remind me of the Markets?"
"For a long time!" Krayk laughed. "Not everyone can make thirty-six corpses with a hole in their head while barely standing on their feet! I even got a recording from Sparatus."
"And he gave it?"
"Otherwise! I'll show Rin, let her be happy."
"Will you show us?" Ashley asked suddenly.
Nihlus blinked in surprise, and then shrugged his shoulders.
"And why not? I'll show you."
Garrus Vakarian snorted, shook his head in displeasure, and then noticed Pressley standing in the shadows.
"Senior assistant?"
"Spektr," Pressley came closer. "The reasons for today's incident have become known to me."
Garrus tensed at first, and then just waved his hand. Totally human. With a slight irritation.
"I want to apologize to you for the behavior of the crew."
The Turian suddenly turned abruptly, raising his hand, interrupting Charles.
"You have nothing to apologize for. You have not tarnished your honor in any way." Not by word or action. Garrus said calmly, gazing intently into the face of the man who was taken aback by such words with bright, intelligent light blue eyes. "I don't want to see you humiliated by young idiots who don't deserve such a sacrifice."
"I consider myself responsible for the behavior of the crew." Charles objected.
"In that case, you should tighten your grip on their throats if you want to save their lives. Otherwise, Irene will do it."
Pressley nodded. At this time, Nihlus Krayk sat down on a box next to Ashley and Kayden, who were leaning forward with interest. The instrumentron's interface lit up, the Turian selected the desired file and launched it. A hologram unfolded over his wrist, and people watched with interest and growing dumbfounded as three drunken fighters knocked out the attackers.
"They love you in the Lower Town. Look, they ran away as soon as there was a real chance to kill you." Nihlus grunted. "And that's where you almost got shot."
"See." Garrus grimaced. "It could have worked cleaner. And be the first to remove the fighters with shotguns and rifles. This one and these ones." A clawed finger touched the figures falling to the virtual floor.
"Haven't you forgotten? You were totally drunk."
"So what? I haven't lost my brain..." The Turian shrugged his shoulders. "Is this the first time?"
The recording ended when a Batarian fell to the floor, unsuccessfully trying to hold his open stomach with his hands.
"Why should he be stabbed with a sword?"
"There is no armor, but the shields are combat." Krayk shrugged his shoulders. "If you lose your gun, he'll put a shotgun charge in your stomach three times."
The intercom clicked, and Karin's voice said:
"The Vacarian spectrum. The Krayk spectrum."
"We're listening, Doctor." Nihlus replied
"Go up to the infirmary."
"Something happened?"
A short pause and a reply:
"Perhaps the captain will listen to you and take a break from work. Otherwise, I'll have to go to extreme measures and use a tranquilizer."
The Turians exchanged glances.
"We'll be right there."
The connection is gone. The Turians got up almost simultaneously and went to the elevator. The XO thought about it and stepped into the elevator after them.
In the infirmary, a nervous Karin was already waiting for them, frowning at Irene, who was sitting on the bed, clutching her nose with a piece of cloth already stained with blood. The captain looked terrifying: pale, almost transparent skin, through which blue veins could be seen, dark circles under her eyes, a slight tremor in her hands and a tired look in her dull and darkened green eyes. It was the first time Charles had seen the captain in such a state.
"Captain, what's the matter with you?"
Irene looked up at the first mate, blinked a little in surprise, but answered in a hoarse voice:
"Slight exhaustion. Nothing fatal."
Karin frowned.
"Irene, I want to remind you that I forbade putting such loads on the body last time! Nihlus, Garrus, escort your colleague to the cabin and make sure that she does not leave it for the next twenty-four hours! Irene must sleep! No operation planning! Sleep!"
Nihlus chuckled.
"Of course, Karin."
"It's unnecessary." Irene muttered, getting to her feet. "I'm quite capable of walking to my cabin on my own."
But as soon as the captain took a step, her legs buckled, and Shepard almost fell, caught in time by the Turian.
"I see you walking on your own." Nihlus effortlessly lifted the sluggishly resisting woman into his arms, looking disapprovingly at the blood flowing through her nose. "Karin, how long has she been sitting here?"
"Five hours before... this incident. And since then."
"Garrus..."
"I understood. I'll bring it to the cabin." Vakarian turned around and left.
Pressley looked at what was happening with a degree of incomprehension. How did the captain manage to bring herself to such a state?
"Dr. Chakwas. What's going on with the captain?"
The Doctor pursed her lips in displeasure.
"Irene is too responsible for her work and does not take care of herself at all. I have to influence her through her colleagues, since she won't listen to me!" The doctor's eyes shifted to the Turian. "Spectr Krayk, why are you still here? Your connivance may cost the captain not only his health, but also his life!"
"I got it, I'll fix it." He chuckled. "Don't worry, Karin, we'll make sure that Irene eats and goes to bed." He turned around and walked out of the infirmary.
Pressley didn't ask any unnecessary questions, just left the infirmary, frowning at the Turian walking ahead. The gossip I'd read came back to me. From the outside, such a picture could indeed be interpreted rather ambiguously.
"Pressley..." The captain's quiet voice rang out unexpectedly.
"captain?"
"I will be absent by... for technical reasons, about a day." Shepard whispered in a hoarse voice. "Take command of the Normandy until we return from Vermaire."
"That won't be necessary, Captain."
"There is. We will be away indefinitely. At least three days. If there are any problems, you will have to replace me for two or three weeks. If there are any problems, you will have to replace me for two or three weeks. In case of ANY problems, please contact Advisor Sparatus directly."
"I get it, Captain. It will be executed."
Irene nodded and closed her eyes wearily.
"Get some rest, Shepard. I hope I won't see you like this again." Unable to resist, the XO said.
The woman laughed softly.
"I can't promise."
Charles saluted, turned around and left. He has a lot to think about.
The XO's thoughtful face gave me hope that Pressley would take over the training of the crew, and I wouldn't have to take extreme measures. It's enough that Karin hasn't been able to pump out one jerk. I personally didn't care about them and was more of a nuisance, but right now I couldn't give up on the Normandy, even though the Turian corvette was actually waiting for me in the hangar at the Citadel and was much more convenient.
It makes no sense to change unimportant details if I have global interventions in the event chain ahead of me. Yes, reality is already acquiring some plasticity, but still, you should not tempt Fate in small things. So... I'm going for a ride on the Normandy. It's enough to know that an as-yet unnamed alternative is honestly waiting for me on the Citadel, as is its exact replica, Garrus. As Nihlus said, it was not difficult for the Council to order a hundred or two comfortable small warships at the Hierarch shipyards, and for the Turians to build and equip them, taking into account the specifics of the future owner's work.
Nihlus carried me into the cabin and sat me down on the bed, and he squatted down, staring intently at my face. Just a moment later, the usual jammer appeared on the bedside shelf.
"Will it always be like this?"
A clawed hand gently slid across his cheek.
"No, of course not." I smiled and rubbed my cheek against his palm. "Only until the final unfolding of the aura and initiation. She's coming soon, just a couple of hours left. The body cannot cope with the production and processing of the required amount of energy, the power and energy structure is weak and cannot pump such volumes. So I don't look my best. But such loads are useful: they accelerate the restructuring and bring initiation closer."
"Tonight, then?"
"Right. At the same time, I will find out what will take root in this reality and will be available for use. Right now, I can't even use mentalism with all my might. It's just that the body can't stand it."
Nihlus nodded slowly.
"I've been meaning to ask for a long time. Why did my biotics activate? I don't have an implant."
"This is the result of constantly staying within the boundaries of my personal space. Your nervous and energy systems are developing rapidly now, just like Garrus'. This effect will disappear after initiation: I will curtail my aura and stop influencing others. If I don't want to."
Nihlus nodded slowly.
"But it's for the two of you... not particularly relevant."
"Why?"
"Because of... the specifics of our relationship. I purred."
The doors swung open, allowing Garrus to enter my cabin with a tray filled with food containers, and immediately closed, the indicator changed color to red.
"Why so much?" I still haven't been able to eat. Garrus said nonchalantly, placing the tray on the bed. "Nihlus, as far as I know, you didn't make it either?"
"No, thank you."
Garrus nodded, handing me a bulky container on a small tray.
"Eat up."
I took the tray from his hands, sat up, and kissed Garrus, who was purring contentedly, on the neck. I know he likes it.
"I think Garrus will be interested in listening too." Nihlus said reasonably, removing the lid.
"About?"
"My biotics and changes in the body." Nihlus retold what he had said earlier to his kinsman in a few words, and Garrus only nodded slowly at this.
"So why don't we get involved in your initiation?"
"Yes, everything is very simple. During... in proximity, the energy of the partners merges, increases abruptly and divides in proportion to the capacity of the reserve. Yes, everything is very simple. During... in proximity, the energy of the partners merges, increases abruptly and divides in proportion to the capacity of the reserve. My energy volume exceeds yours. Repeatedly. It's not for nothing that sex is always and in almost all worlds considered the easiest and most natural way to solve the problems of exhaustion in any more or less energetically developed race. Only sacrifice is more effective. Quickly, efficiently, with minimal losses in the background. And the consent of the second participant is absolutely not required.
"And in our world too?"
"In any case. The ritual takes place within the boundaries of the aura of the sacrificer, and the presence or absence of external energy will not affect the result in any way. However, there are such rituals... They are not very pleasant, and they are used only as a last resort by normal reasonable people. It's too bloody, cruel, and unsightly."
"Do you know such rituals?"
"I know." I shrugged my shoulders. "But I prefer not to use it. They leave imprints on the aura that don't go away for a very long time."
"The consequences?"
"Unpleasant ones. Tell... Not now, okay?"
They did not insist. Nihlus decided to get off the unpleasant topic and asked:
"What should we do during your initiation?"
"Nothing. Just stay close and don't be surprised by anything." I picked up something that looked like a mushroom and popped it into my mouth. "There is a high probability that I will dump excess energy on you, if there are any. In an amicable way, it would be better to hold such meetings... things are not on a spaceship, but on a planet. Less chance of ruining something."
"Is the splash big?"
"Like when. It's impossible to predict. There are too many variables."
"What's the threat?"
"Energy gluttony. Maybe regeneration will accelerate a bit until the excess vital energy dissipates."
Garrus frowned at the nearly full container in my hands.
"Eat up."
I didn't argue and started eating. Sebastian cooks just great, even though I don't understand how he can make a delicious dish that is inedible to him. But somehow he did it! Lately, I've generally switched mainly to dextro products, since the XO saved on regular ones, and the normal meat and vegetables were only right-acidic.
Garrus removed the empty containers and put them on the table, and then they undressed me and put me to bed. You're going to sleep now. — Nihlus lay down next to me, moved a little, giving me the opportunity to comfortably settle on his shoulder.
"And you?"
"And we'll find something to do." Garrus answered me, settling down on the other side and wrapping his arms around my waist. "Sleep."
And I really fell asleep quickly, warmed up between two men. Garrus gently and carefully stroked my head, which only accelerated the process.
The initiation took place at night, and I didn't even wake up. There was no release: the excess energy was distributed among the sleeping Turians and was used by their bodies to treat old injuries and minor sores, and the remnants were absorbed by Normandy, forming their own vital aura. So I was totally worried for nothing.
I was the first to wake up, and for a while I could watch Nihlus sleeping. Garrus sniffed at the top of my head, snorting softly when my hair got into my nose. The analysis of the body's condition showed pretty good results: the body and energy structure have completely returned to the standard I am used to, and NOW I can call myself a true metamorph. I've got everything I can use in this reality... and it's a pity that almost all magical gifts are unavailable. The energy saturation of this reality is too low, and it will not change until the universe begins to develop independently and receives nourishment from the Primordial Foundation. It's a pity, of course, but not critical. I am glad that the spatial pocket feels normal, and you can already use it. At the same time, it's worth considering what you should take with you... in the next life...
My small movements woke up the light-sleeping Turians. Garrus was the first to wake up, and just a few moments later, Nihlus. And the first question:
"How was the initiation?"
"Fine."
The green eyes carefully examined my face, noting the changed appearance.
"I see the dream has done you good."
"Undoubtedly."
Garrus propped himself up on one elbow and easily rolled me onto my back.
"I think it's time to get up and please Karin with your healthy appearance." A clawed finger slid across his cheek.
"Turn off the jammer."
Nihlus sat up and turned off the device.
"Joker, can you hear me?"
"Should I?" the pilot asked cautiously, responding almost instantly.
"Need." I smiled.
"Then I hear it."
Garrus let out a muffled laugh, which could not escape the attentive and bored Jeff.
"Vakarian. I heard everything!"
"Also tell me that you see everything." Garrus said sarcastically.
"If I say that, Irene will kill me." Joker complained to the Turian. "Of course, I can see everything! When Krayk is not jamming the equipment in the cabin."
"That's why I'm silencing you, because you can see everything." Nihlus grinned, getting off the bed easily.
The Joker muttered something displeased, and we laughed. Still, getting mad at an overly curious pilot just didn't work out. I clearly knew that everything he saw would go no further than him, and nothing more... He won't say too much.
"How long is it before exiting the stage?" I asked.
"Thirty-five hours. And four more superlight flights to Vermaer under its own power."
"Thank you." a short pause. "And the Joker... You'd better not peek right now."
"I understood." the pilot said complaisantly and switched off.
Karin didn't appreciate my appearance in the infirmary. Silently, without talking or warning, a tranquilizer dart flew at me. I did not demonstrate my insensitivity to the drug and smoothly slid into the arms of Nihlus, who was taken aback by such a greeting.
"Did I warn you not to let her out of the cabin for twenty-four hours?" Karin asked dryly, tossing another dart in her palm.
"I warned you." Nihlus agreed, intercepting my conditionally insensitive carcass and lifting it in his arms.
"Why did you let her go out?"
"Is it possible to keep it?" Garrus asked skeptically, looking with interest at my completely awake face, fortunately, Nihlus held me so that Karin could not see my face.
"It is possible if you try and find the right ways of influencing. Now bring her back."
Three crew members undergoing a standard medical checkup and Liara, sitting next to her sleeping mother, watched the whole circus with deep dumbfoundness.
"Isn't it too radical?" Garrus asked cautiously, squinting at my twitching face.
"Radically — if you lie down next to him." Karin said dryly, showing off darts with tranquilizers for dextro organisms. "And sleep in the infirmary until the relay exits the destination system. Don't force me to take extreme measures against you, and get rid of your full-contact sparring."
Garrus raised his hands in a human gesture of reconciliation.
"What can I do to earn your favor, Doctor?"
"Irene will wake up in four hours. Make sure she eats properly, not the way she does it."
"Will do."
"Free to go!"
Nihlus silently turned around and left the infirmary, carrying me in his arms. I decided not to provoke Karin and continued to lie limp. Krayk, the bastard, carried me across the entire command deck in front of the entire crew! Pressley, of course, couldn't help but notice us.
"Spectrum Krayk... what happened?" The genuine surprise in the XO's voice warmed my soul. "Charles Pressley, you know, it's absolutely impossible to argue with Dr. Chakwas."
Nihlus reported in a penetrating voice.
"At the slightest disobedience, she turns to heavy and... convincing arguments." With that, Garrus handed the tranquilizer dart to the startled XO. So that everyone can see and identify him.
"She's a very dangerous woman..." Garrus added.
Leaving the XO with a dart in his hand to digest the original behavior of the usually so polite Karin, I was taken to the cabin, and there we were finally able to have a good time under the quiet giggles of the Joker watching the whole performance. We weren't going to test the doctor's patience, so Garrus went to the galley, and Nihlus and I got to work. There is still time before Vermaer, and you can prepare in the cabin. An hour later, Joker called Tali to my cabin for a briefing.
The Normandy entered Vermaer's orbit. By this time, the landing group was ready: me, Nihlus, Garrus were standing at the ramp, in armor and with weapons, Tali in his usual spacesuit. We will land ten kilometers from the base on the ocean coast. Without the Mako. We'll walk to the base, avoiding any contact with the Geth. After our landing, the Normandy will leave the system and will not return here under any circumstances, but will wait at the agreed location for twenty days. We will get off the planet on a small spaceship, which we noticed at the spaceport four kilometers from the base.
"Rin, we're over the drop point."
The Joker's voice distracted me from my thoughts.
"Height?"
"About ten meters. I can't go any lower."
Drop us over the water.
"Understood."
The ramp slowly descended.
"Let's go!"
As I was already jumping off the ramp after Garrus, I heard the Joker's soft whisper:
"Good luck..."
"Thanks, Joker... We'll need it..." With that thought in mind, I flew into the warm ocean, and the Normandy smoothly went up and disappeared into the sky.
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