Аннотация: Briefing with Liara. A discussion with Naylus about the future of the Mass effect world. a conversation with Ashley about the Turians and her xenophobia.
Chapter 12: Ideas and Suggestions
After returning from the Terum, I gave the members of the disembarkation group the opportunity to rest, tidy up, eat, and only then gather in the briefing room to discuss the current situation, since an hour or two did not matter.: We have the same eight-day flight to the Citadel. However, Rex fell asleep safely. The Krogan didn't care what we were doing, where we were going, who we were hunting. The important fact is that our lives are full of events, and our ship is in the center of a hurricane. That's what he told me before he closed the door and went to sleep.
Karin released Liara from the infirmary, pumping medicines up to her eyebrows with instructions to be in a bed and sleep in an hour. As it turned out, the young Asari stayed in that bubble for almost three days and managed to fall into despondency and despair. Our appearance for the girl was something like a miracle, which she had already stopped hoping for.
Slowly, the two Turians, Tali, Kayden, and a dejected Ashley gathered in the hall. Jeff was listening with interest from the control room, but only Nihlus and I knew about it. When Liara arrived, the people stopped chatting and pretended to be attentive.
"Dr. Liara." I motioned for Asari to sit down. "How are you feeling?"
"Thanks to you, it's pretty good." The girl smiled a little shyly. "I'm sorry, but I do not know your names."
"Yes, it was rude. My name is Irene Shepard." I introduced myself, and then pointed to the Spectre sitting next to me. "Nihlus Kraik. You've already seen the rest: Garrus Vakarian, Tali"Zora nar Raya, Kayden Alenko, Ashley Williams and Krogan, who is now brazenly sleeping - Rex Urdnot. We are on board the frigate Normandy."
"Are you the military of the Alliance?" Asari asked doubtfully, looking at our extremely colorful team.
"Just Kayden and Ashley." Who is the commander of the ship?
"I."
"Liara nodded slowly."
"I'm sorry, I don't have much experience with your race. I am grateful to you. You saved my life."
"What does Saren want from you?" Nihlus asked.
"I do not know what the Council's Spectr required of me." The girl said, confused.
"Saren lost its Spectr status." Kayden said dryly.
"Oh... I didn't know. I've been excavating for over a year now and I've barely kept in touch with the Citadel. The news has been going on for a long time."
"Have you heard something about the Channel?" I asked.
"Only that he has something to do with the disappearance of the Protheans." The Asari spread her arms. "This is the area of my research. For the last fifty years, I have been searching for the causes of their disappearance."
Kayden and Ashley's faces fell. The Turians reacted calmly: they knew perfectly well that the Asari were a long-lived race.
"What is your age?" Alenko asked quietly.
I grimaced. Question... not too tactful. But Liara was understanding and, with a slightly embarrassed smile, replied:
"I don't like to talk about it, but I'm only one hundred and six years old."
"Everything?" Ashley's world seems to have fallen apart.
"For a species as short-lived as yours, a hundred years may seem like a long time, but by Asari standards, I'm considered barely out of childhood." Liara explained. "That's why my research has not received much attention. Other Asari scholars usually dismiss my theories because I'm too young."
A spark of anger flashed in Liara's voice. This attitude hurt her, but she couldn't do anything about public opinion and prejudice.
"I have my own theory about why the Protheans disappeared."
"With all due respect, Captain, I'm aware of all the theories that exist." Nihlus chuckled slightly at this categorical statement, but said nothing.
"The problem is finding evidence. The Protheans left very little behind. As if someone didn't want the mystery to be solved! It's like someone went through the Galaxy after the extinction of the Protheans and destroyed all the evidence!"
Nielus and I exchanged glances, which was not lost on Liara's wary gaze.
"Go on, Liara."
But here's what's amazing. According to my findings, the Protheans were not the first race in the Galaxy to mysteriously disappear at the peak of their development. This cycle started long before them!
Nihlus looked at me questioningly. I nodded. Liara is absolutely right.
"How did you come to such conclusions?" Nihlus hoarse voice sounded unexpectedly loud in the silence of the hall. "Is there any evidence?"
"I've worked for fifty years!" I examined every grain. "Eventually, a subtle connection began to appear. A faint hint of the truth." Liara clenched her fists. "It's hard to explain. I can't provide any concrete evidence. It's more like a feeling generated by more than half a century of painstaking work. But I know I'm right! And sooner or later I will be able to prove it! There were other civilizations before the Protheans. The cycle has been repeated many times!
If the Protheans weren't the first, then who was before them?
"Kayden asked." I don't know. There is almost no information about even the proteans, and even less about their predecessors! I can't substantiate my theory, but I know I'm right!"
Nihlus listened with interest, staring intently at the nervous Asari. She sensed in her gut that this Turian had come here for a reason. He has the right. But she didn't know who he was. Liara did not recognize the Spectrum in Naylus, and we were in no hurry to enlighten her.
"The galaxy lives in a cycle of annihilation. Every time a great civilization arises, it is suddenly and brutally destroyed! Only ruins remain!" Liara threw up her hands. The Protheans created a great empire, but even they were climbing over the remains of their predecessors! Their greatest achievements - the Citadel and the repeaters-were built using the technology of those who came before them! And then they disappeared, just like other civilizations before them! I've dedicated my life to finding out the reason for this."
Nihlus leaned back in his chair, wincing painfully. I looked with interest at Liara's soulful face, wondering if I should tell her the truth. Sooner or later she'll find out. Does it make sense to remain silent? She met the gaze of bright green eyes. A slow nod, a slight smile. And really, why not?
"What if I tell you that you're right about something?" I asked calmly.
Liara blinked in surprise.
"In something?" The Protheans really aren't the first civilization to be destroyed. "And not the last one."
"I'm sorry, what?"
"We're next." I watched with interest how the expressions on the faces of the reasonable people sitting in the hall changed. "And we have already achieved enough greatness, but we have not yet crossed the line beyond which we become dangerous."
"Are you sure?"
"Not so long ago, I had the pleasure of meeting with the efficient information buoy protean. You call it the Lighthouse. And I still enjoy the exquisite nightmares-visions that show in detail exactly how the Protean was put under the knife."
"It is quite possible. The beacons were designed to transmit information directly into the user's mind." Liara jumped to her feet, excitedly pacing the center of the hall. "It is extremely rare to find a working lighthouse!"
"Oh, this one worked." But the beacons were designed to interact with the physiology of the Protheans. Your visions are probably blurred and fragmented."
"This is not entirely true." Liara stopped abruptly.
"The information has been processed and is more than clear." I chuckled. "The Protheans were destroyed by intelligent living machines. The reapers. Or Reapers, whichever way you like. They are the ones who observe the Cycles of Destruction, destroying the advanced races of the Galaxy over and over again. The name of this process is very revealing: Harvest."
Liara froze, starting to pace the hall again.
The citadel and the repeaters weren't built by the Protheans, you're right about that. And not even by their predecessors. I completely captured Liara's attention. Have you ever wondered why it was the repeaters and the Citadel that repeatedly experienced the actual genocide of the galaxy's most advanced races in one piece? Didn't the same Protheans resist? They resisted! And for a long time! At least a hundred years old. But! The galactic Star Wars didn't leave a scratch on the Citadel and the repeaters. Strange, don't you think? And no need for fairy tales about a particularly durable case. You can ruin EVERYTHING.
"Indeed, such thoughts have visited me." Liara admitted. "But I didn't find any other answer, except as a special durable alloy."
"The answer is as simple as a ruler. The citadel was built by the Reapers. Millions of years ago. Repeaters are a trap. The Reapers are repeatedly rebuilding the station and building mass repeaters in systems with undeveloped civilizations, so that the next generation is guaranteed to receive new toys BEFORE they can create their own unique way of interstellar travel. We also found them, and without realizing it, we got into a carefully dug development rut.
"Why are you sure that we will be destroyed too?"
"Why shouldn't they? How do we differ from the same protean or inusannon?"
"Inusannon? Who is it?"
"The progenitors of the Protheans. Anticipating your question, I only know the name and have seen the stone statue a couple of times. If you want, I can draw it for you."
"I would appreciate it. What can you tell us about them?"
"There is nothing really about Inusannon in the lighthouse: the name, the vision of the statue in the jungle, and the information that they were killed seventy thousand years before the Protheans. An example of repeating the Harvest Cycle."
"There is a logic to this. But... Do you have any proof?"
"Besides the Reaper that flew off Eden Prime before our eyes? No."
Liara stopped abruptly, as if she had crashed into an invisible wall, and now stood silently gasping for air. Kayden and Ashley exchanged glances.
"I'm sorry... WHAT?"
"Before our eyes, a Reaper flew away from the Eden Prime spaceport."
Raising my head to the ceiling, I said quite loudly:
"Jeff, give me the picture from my camera on the terminal."
"Just a moment, Captain."
The holographic screen unfolded. We stared at the static for about twenty seconds while the Joker searched for the right recording and displayed it on the screen, and then he appeared in all his glory: The Lord of Nazara, starting in an extravaganza of red lightning with a roar and disappearing into the bloody sunset sky.
"This is the Reaper."
"But if the Reaper is already here..." Liara waved her hand vaguely. "Then why didn't he attack?"
"I suspect that he has ALWAYS been here, watching over us and waiting for the hour when he should send a Call to his kin and begin the Harvest. A kind of overseer. His activity is more worrisome. And the fact that he was able to bend the Spectrum under himself, forcing him to look for a Channel for him. Apparently, for some reason, the Reaper can't find it himself. Or the linings that got loose."
"Do you think the Channel is on the Citadel?" Nihlus asked, earning a suspicious look from Liara.
"Most likely, yes. But the importance of the Citadel lies elsewhere."
"In what?"
"But that remains to be seen. We will return to the Citadel in eight days. In the meantime, rest. Tali, take Dr. Liara to your cabin."
The Quarian nodded in agreement.
"Rene, we need to talk." Nihlus stood up, gesturing for her to follow him.
I nodded and followed my colleague out. As the door was closing, I heard Liara's question:
"Excuse me, but who is Naylus Kraik?"
And Ashley's response:
"The spectrum."
Under Liara's soft yelp, the door slammed shut, cutting off all sounds. Nihlus snorted.
***
Entering his cabin, the Turian waited until the doors slammed shut and activated the pyramid of a funny device that cut off any opportunity to eavesdrop or spy on what was happening in the coverage area. Jeff's curiosity is already well known to him, as well as his capabilities.
"What happened?"
"You tell me." Nihlus carefully sat up, growling involuntarily at the sharp pain.
"Does the wound hurt?"
"I stirred it up a bit." Spektr leaned back in his chair.
"You do realize that if I tell Dr. Karin about this, you won't leave the infirmary until you fully recover, right?" I asked with some kind of fanatical interest.
"What about you?" Nihlus cocked his head questioningly.
"Should I?"
A quiet chuckle.
"No."
"I hope." A light golden glow passed over his hand. "No exercise is planned before the Citadel, so you will have an accelerated course of treatment."
"What are the consequences?"
"No."
"For you." said the Turian.
"Weakness and lethargy if I pump out a lot. If you overdo it, then..." I waved my hand vaguely.
The green eyes narrowed.
"You do understand that if I tell Dr. Karin about this..." Quoting me, Naylus murmured with a barely perceptible grin.
"What about you?"
"Should I?"
It was surprisingly easy to communicate with Nihlus. Fortunately, at least the officialdom fell off him in a couple of days, and the Turian quickly switched to informal communication, throwing off the mask of the Spectr. There are no pitfalls, hidden meanings, piles of useless verbal lace hiding unsightly meanings. A clean and open conversation, honest words that do not need to be literally disassembled by sounds, trying to grasp the hidden meaning. A powerful mind did not require an explanation of the obvious, it was enough just to report the fact so that the green-eyed Turian himself would build the right chain of events and assess the prospects. He was not moved by my cynicism and a certain callousness that had developed over long lives and the contemplation of other people's deaths. I loved it. It's not so easy to find someone who takes your word for it, just because one day he decided to trust you. Or is this a feature of the Turians as a race? Who knows? The Turian was silent, watching me with barely noticeable interest. This is how a wildcat looks at the world around him: with calm curiosity, appreciating every little thing.
"No, don't do that. I know my capabilities." Nihlus obediently leaned back in his chair, allowing me to come over and examine the wound. Blue blood appeared in patches on the elastic bandage, glistening slightly in the bright white light.
"Apparently, you didn't wake her up a bit." Nihlus shrugged his shoulders.
"When you know that you survived only by a miracle, you look at it calmly." The Turian twitched his mandibles slightly. "It's a strange feeling."
"To know that you should be dead?"
The Turian nodded. I took out a knife and easily tore open the bandages, exposing the wound that had begun to heal. She looked it... bad. The broken and twisted chitin on his chest, the swollen bluish edges of the wound, the bumps of the stitches, the purple-green bruises, the exposed muscles barely covered by the blue, cracked crust of dried blood stripped off along with the bandages. And this horror is all over my chest.
My palm lit up with an uneven golden glow, thin streaks of light flowing from my fingers. Concentrated vital energy. I raised my hand, practically touching the oily, shiny fresh blood with my fingers, watching as strands of energy stretched out, pouring into the startled Turian.
"Does it tickle?"
"From the inside."
"That's how it should be."
The visual effect didn't appear immediately, but it did. The wound dried up, being tightened by the delicate skin, the outlines of new plates of chitin appeared. The blood had coagulated and was falling off in layers. The healing was rapid, and I felt my strength disappearing just as quickly. In my opinion, that's enough. The calm, slightly rumbling voice sounded unexpectedly harsh. I pulled my hand away and cut off the power supply.
"And it's true. Three more times and you'll be completely healthy. We'll do it again in two days."
Nihlus nodded and stood up slightly, leaning back against the back.
"Rene, what do you know about the Channel?"
"It's like a one-way backdoor to the Citadel. Access to the station is via a repeater created by the Protheans from the planet Ilos. The channel on the Citadel is a monument repeater in the Presidium."
"Is he a worker?"
"Quite. But I have no idea where it leads. But not on Ilos. Perhaps it has some other functions unknown to me, after all, it was built by the Reapers. And Saren is clearly looking for a reason. I do not believe that the Sovereing of Nazara began to suffer from sclerosis in his old age, and forgot where they built the Canal. Getting to the Citadel is not a problem for the Spectr. Apparently, they need a Channel on Ilos."
"Where is this Ilos located?"
"The Pangea Space system. It's a long way from here. You can get in through a special mu repeater, hanging out somewhere in the nebula in the Terminus Systems. But I don't know exactly where. There was some kind of murky story, which is why this repeater was torn from orbit and shifted somewhere.
"And who knows?"
"Rachni."
"They're extinct."
"Saren dug up the queen's egg somewhere. So they're already quite alive."
"Where are they located?"
"A novelty. We will go there as soon as the message about the problems in the colony arrives. If everything goes as it should, we'll meet Benezia there. Or we might not."
"What about the other Reapers?"
"They're hanging out somewhere in intergalactic space." I shrugged my shoulders.
"What do they want from us anyway?"
"Good question. All I know for sure is that the Reapers are made of organics. Of the races they destroyed. We are their building material."
We were silent for a while. Nihlus was deep in thought about something, but I didn't bother him. The prospects looming brightly in the not-so-distant future frankly scared me. First, that swift death and getting caught by Cerberus. Yes, there is no getting around this fact... But you can turn around! Moreover, it seems that Liara will give them my carcass, hoping for resurrection. But what if...
"You still haven't told me what the future holds for us." The Turian asked softly.
Funny. It feels like he's reading my mind and putting questions into it.
"In three words: Reaper, Collectors, Harvest."
"Tell."
Not an order. Request.
"I told you about Sovereing Nazara. He's our supervisor. He must send a Call and activate the Citadel, summoning his kin to our part of the Galaxy. The Protheans did something to the Guardians, and now the Citadel won't respond to Nazara's orders, or the Harvest would have already begun. Apparently, when the station didn't respond, he was puzzled by the search for performers. And then Saren so successfully climbed on it, considering it to be just an artifact ship. For which he paid with freedom and sanity. You already know that.
The Turian nodded.
"Apparently, Saren is now trying to send a Call and deal with the breakdown of the Citadel by manually launching it into repeater mode. This feature is available from the station's command bridge. Why does he need a Channel? I don't know. In any case, we need to destroy the Sovereing, and it's not easy to do that. He will lay half the fleet, breaking through to the Citadel. By the way, the station will have to be closed, and the Sovereing will remain outside. If you don't slow down.
The council should know.
"And how will I tell them?" They won't believe me. But they'll believe me. Nihlus chuckled. "Sparatus will believe it. We can start preparing for war."
"When we arrive at the Citadel, talk to the adviser. Maybe he'll let you blow up the Channel? Just in case."
Nihlus chuckled.
"Maybe. What will happen next?"
"When we take down the Sovereing, the Alliance and the Council will pretend that the Reapers are my joke. So, the delirium of a brain inflamed by a Lighthouse. They'll declare him a superget and that's it."
"It's a sound idea. It will prevent panic."
"That's just it. But the problem is that they will believe it themselves."
"I'll take care of convincing the Council. If they don't believe me, they won't believe anyone. Although I've never noticed such idiocy in Sparatus."
"Do you know him?"
"Yes."
I stared into those mocking green eyes. THAT CAN'T BE RIGHT!
Don't tell me Sparatus is your kinsman!
"I won't tell. The Turian grinned, spreading his mandibles wide and grinning slightly maliciously."
"He can't be so lucky!"
"Sparatus is from a related clan." Nihlus shrugged his shoulders. "When I was able to become a Spectr, I was assigned to Saren, the best of the best, at Sparatus' request. A shadow crossed his face. "Saren..."
"We will resolve the issue with Saren when we meet with him."
Nielus nodded.
"What's next? After the destruction of the Sovereing."
"The Alliance's native authorities are sending me on a mission to check why the ships are disappearing. The Norma will be destroyed by the Collectors' cruiser, the crew will mostly escape in capsules, and I will be thrown overboard by the explosion. And I'm going to die."
Nihlus shuddered.
"It's possible... Change it?"
"I don't know. I doubt. I'm not going to die anyway. I'll go into suspended animation. But the result of this mission will be that my body will end up in Cerberus, a terrorist inhuman organization, where my carcass will be stuffed with metal and suspicious implants, presented with Normandy number two and sent to heroic deeds.
I winced at the prospect. That's what, but I would have done without Cerberus with pleasure.
"What can be changed?"
"First of all, I'm not going to fall under the Lazarus Project and allow suspicious stuff to be stuffed into my body. After a decade and a half, my soul will finally settle in, and I will regain my abilities to the fullest extent that this reality allows them. In any case, fine-grained controls are already available. And the mentalism will be in full force by the time you arrive at the Citadel. I can already initiate suspended animation. But I need a "cover" that will protect my defenseless body from the playful paws of maniacs from science."
"What's it?"
A protective property of the body. Something like a force field generated across the surface of a body. If I am fit at the time of initiation of suspended animation and protection, then I can maintain protection for ten years at full strength. Or two hundred years, if you turn on full power only when trying to cause damage.
"Can I punch it?"
"You can, of course. But as soon as I get into livable conditions, my body will automatically start to come out of suspended animation, and in two days I will, roughly speaking, revive. They won't have time to do anything in that time."
"How will they get your body?"
"Yes, there's some kind of story with a Gray Intermediary, Collectors and a Ghost. I don't remember exactly what happened."
"Leave it unchanged?"
I blinked, staring into the green eyes in surprise. I'm amazed at him sometimes! I'm telling you heresy by and large, but he believes me! And I am ready to help! Without a shadow of doubt or distrust.
"Yes. But you need to choose the return time correctly. When the Collector's attacks on human colonies begin."
"I'll make sure."
"That's all. I'll make sure. And it's hard to believe that he'll really follow up and do the right thing. He won't let you down, he won't set you up."
A mentalist has many advantages...
"Do you know what Collectors are?"
"Husky Protheans and other races from their "stream"."
Nihlus shuddered. He rubbed his comb and sighed.
"You know, sometimes your answers drive me... in a daze. I know. But I don't see the point in lying to you."
The Spectrum chuckled.
"What do they want?"
"They're building their own Reaper. From the populations of the colonies. It will have to be filled up before it is finished. The creature is still the same. It is located at the base behind the Omega 4 repeater. There's a real graveyard of ships under the protection of combat drones, so it would be ideal to go with a well-armed squadron. But where can I get it?"
"That's my problem. How many ships will be needed?"
"I have no idea. But the problem of Collectors must be solved radically. By the way, Cerberus will claim the base, and I absolutely do not want to give it to them. It's better to let the Council or your Hierarchy fuck her. By the way, the remnants of the Lord should also be disassembled and put into action. The Reapers will arrive pretty quickly. A year and a half after my "resurrection". And that's where the full ass starts. The war of annihilation that we're in... We'll lose."
"How do we lose?" Nihlus was taken aback.
"And that's it. The end and salvation are very great... They are strange and do not inspire confidence. To save ourselves, we need to build a Forge and dock it in the Citadel. By the way, we will fly to get his drawings after we meet with Saren on Vermire. Or before him, let's see. Saren is not going anywhere. A bugle is a ship. Chaos alone knows who developed it. But then the strangest thing begins. A Catalyst is required to activate the Forge."
"Do you know where he is?"
I couldn't help but laugh nervously.
"At the Citadel."
Then what's the problem?
"Now you will appreciate for yourself the depth and vastness of the ass we are in and the ephemerality of salvation."
Hysterical laughter erupted by itself.
"Rеnе!" the Turian growled.
"Nihlus, The Catalyst Is An AI! He's the creator of the Reapers! He controls them! And he will also give access to the control room of the Forge! Do you understand the depth of the cynicism of the situation? It all depends on the decision of this fucking AI! Whether we live or not! If this trash won't let me into the control room, the Forge is a useless and expensive attachment to the Citadel!"
Naylus sat in deep shock. An understanding of the horror of the situation appeared in his eyes and was replaced by a strange determination.
What are the options?
Salvation? According to this dirty trick, there are three: the first is to destroy the Reapers, the repeaters, the Citadel and all the synthetics of the Galaxy; the second is to take control and the third is the symbiosis of synthetics and organics into a new ideal form.
I'm going to die anyway.
Either I'll burn in a fire, or I'll be fried by lightning, and my personality will be digitized and a new Catalyst will be made, or decomposed into components and a mega-vaccine for the entire Galaxy will be made based on the genome. And all with the permission of the AI.
"That's bullshit." The Turian muttered. "Has no one been able to build a Forge during other Cycles?"
"That's it. They could. The Protheans definitely built it. But the result is zero. The catalyst slammed the Citadel into an armored bullet in their faces and waved goodbye! We need another option. Which guarantees, if not victory, then at least the survival of our species.
"In such an attack, only evacuation can give a chance for the survival of the species." Nilus muttered.
"It takes just a little bit - another way to conquer the interstellar expanses. Not repeaters, but something else."
"Similar studies have been conducted for a long time. At least in the Hierarchy." Nihlus told me the good news. "But I do not know if there is a result. But I will find out."
"Even if there is a ready-made prototype... we have three, four years at most for everything. You do realize that this is impossible, right?"
Nihlus did not answer immediately.
"I'll talk to the Council."
"And what will you tell them?"
"I'll find the words. But we need proof."
"We need Saren and Nazara. Or rather, his data banks." I met the gaze of green eyes. "Do you have any ideas how we can hack into the Reaper's brain?"
Nihlus choked on air and... thought about it.
***
Eight days flashed by in the blink of an eye. The crew rested for the most part, having little contact with the ship's crew, I slept off and ate off, so that I could give everything I had accumulated to Nihlus during the treatment. On the second visit, Karin observed this case, but found this method of treatment, although extreme, to be quite effective. But the doctor watched my health closely, noting the incessant changes in my body and genome. I did not share her concern and enjoyed the small benefits of the metamorph with pleasure.
Two days before I arrived at the Citadel, Ashley finally approached me. She's been watching our team all these days, but she hasn't said anything. The echoes of emotions gave hope that the girl would come to her senses or at least start thinking. And finally, Ashley decided to talk.
I was sitting in the recreation area, sprawled like a lazy amoeba on a wide sofa and listening to music. I found old Miracle of sound recordings and got high. I immediately remembered my first world.
Just an hour ago, I finished treating Nilus, and only ugly scars remained from the terrible wound. However, they can be reduced on the next visit, while they are still fresh and amenable to correction. A slight weakness set him up for a phlegmatic mood, there was a slight noise in his head, and his temples ached after restoring his shields. Just in time. I'll have time to rest up before arriving at the Citadel.
There was a whiff of determination and apprehension from the doors, with a hint of desperation.
I didn't even have to turn around to find out who it was.
"Come on in, Ashley." The young woman shuddered, but silently came over and sat on the sofa opposite.
"The Shepard Spectrum..."
"Yes?" I sat up straight, took off the headphones from my head where the beautiful vocals sang Moon light blu - my favorite song in that life, pretending to be attentive.
"Something happened?"
"I... I was wrong in my statements about the soldiers from the landing group." Ashley clenched her fists and met my gaze squarely. "They... worthy ones..."
"Reasonable. I prompted." How lovely... In this world, the rules of communication with mentalists are not even suspected! No one on Egros has ever looked someone like me in the eye. And here... It didn't even take an effort for me to slip into her mind.
There are no shields. Even natural ones! Excuse me, how is this even possible? The mind always protects itself! Although... No, here they are. Almost transparent, melted. It's a strange sight, to be honest. Perhaps this is the reason why the locals are so easily suggestible? Who knows?
"I'm glad you realized that."
"Will you drop me off at the Citadel?" Ashley asked bluntly.
"Is that what you want?" I raised an eyebrow lazily, slipping out of the fighter's mind.
"No!"
"Then why the question?"
Ashley was taken aback.
"But... I thought it was you... That I'm not right for you."
"Ashley, you're a great fighter. I have no complaints about your professional training. But until you can adequately perceive the alien members of the squad, I will not be able to take you on combat missions. You know that perfectly well."
"I... understand." brown eyes dropped guiltily, and the storm of emotions in the mental plane was simply amazing.
"Your worldview has been shaped by the pressure of the recent war and the general xenophobia of the Alliance's military forces. Biotics also suffered a lot because of their differences. People tend to be afraid of the incomprehensible and alien, and sooner or later we begin to hate what we are afraid of."
"I'm not afraid of aliens!" Ashley jumped up.
"You're afraid and you don't understand. You don't want to understand. You look at the exterior when you need to look into the soul. Evaluate the personality. Talk to Tali. She's a sweet girl and a great technician. Adams can't get enough of her. But Tali is very vulnerable and completely dependent on her spacesuit. But that doesn't stop her from trying to establish a relationship with the team, and she's just thrilled with Normandy!
Damn it! I didn't even need to make any special efforts to put an unobtrusive suggestion on an unprotected mind! The usual natural effects of mentalists or vampires, and that's it, say what you want and convince what you want! It's creepy!
"And... the Turians?"
It's generally easier for you to communicate with the Turians.
"They are natural fighters. Warriors from generations of warriors. Garrus is a great marksman and tactician. Nihlus... Nihlus is one of the most famous Spectr. He has a lot to learn and a lot to learn. Even Rex admits that, even though the Krogan have a lot more accounts with the Turians than humans do. And nothing, he communicates." But you couldn't. "I shook my head. It's at times like this that I feel ashamed of our race. Perhaps the Council is right: people are not ready to join the galactic society. Moreover, they are not ready to join the Council."
"But..."
"Think about it. Where should we go with such a worldview into a long-established system? Become outcasts because of your own arrogance and overestimated sense of importance? Who needs us like that? Would you let people like us into your own state?"
Ashley thought about it.
And the longer she thought about it, the more confused and... sour her face became.
"No. She wouldn't let me in." the woman confessed.
"You see. Try to look at those non-humans who are currently on board the Normandy in a different way. Don't look at the differences. Look for similarities. Believe me, we're not as different as you might think."