Chapter 33: Tuchanka
The Empire's enhanced technologies allowed for the completion of work on the new armor in record time. I tried to combine the old and the new in it, adding elements dictated by the Force: dark steel and a menacing helmet without protective glass, only with a narrow slit for the eyes; clawed gloves for close combat. Also updated the hilt of the scarlet lightsaber.
Decided to completely abandon the purple color, thereby discarding the advantages of dual fencing, but ensuring a clear specialization for the combination of the lightsaber with Jedi or Sith Force techniques.
On the other hand, no one canceled parallel production to save time: the liberated geth helped with creating a synthetic body for EDI. She was still tied to the Starkiller-I ship – at least her core and main memory block were in it.
If this connection were broken, EDI could function autonomously too, but her computing abilities noticeably decreased, almost to the human level. Hmm. For the smartest machine in the entire galaxy, this is akin to degradation into a primitive animal.
True, the engineers took my request to "make her the best body" too literally. A model figure with a thin waist, slender legs, impressive breasts and hips, as well as soft, streamlined forms in the intimate area. A white-gray design was chosen as the color scheme, harmonizing with amber pupils and a dark wig in the bob style. In general, it was immediately clear that EDI was a synthetic, but, admittedly, damn seductive.
— Emperor, - she bowed according to all canons as soon as I entered the ship together with Tali.
— And... who made her body? - the quarian was surprised, as if she had looked into an adult store for the first time.
— The Lawson Research Institute, - EDI answered. — By human standards... excessively vulgar, judging by the result.
— We've been through several star wars and a chase from the geth, - I sighed. — Can do without "Emperor". We are one team, after all.
— Addressing not by title is punishable by demotion and a fine of twenty thousand galactic credits. Having learned about the zero balance of my capital, I decided to refrain from familiarity, - she answered either seriously or mockingly. Impossible to understand by her tone, it was completely calm, as if she were in complete unity with herself and space.
— Oh, so I'm bankrupt? - Tali got scared, apparently without any irony.
— You are forgiven, - waving my left hand, I headed to the cockpit.
The quarian didn't go with me, instead Tali quickly occupied the passenger seat with safety belts in case of unforeseen situations. Despite the improved load control system, my ship was still perceived by everyone as a hellish carousel, from which it is better to keep at a distance of at least one or two star systems.
EDI took the co-pilot's seat to my right, although she still controlled all devices through the main body of the ship – "mentally". But, looking at her, I wouldn't mind taking the helm in my hands... and not only it.
Fucking my own ship – sounds wrong, but, hmm... only just a little bit.
Shaking my head, I ordered the engines to start and head into the last battle, long recorded in my weekly planner. We adequately coped with the defense of the galaxy from the Reapers, investing all collected resources and defeating a powerful enemy.
Hope history remembers this incident not in mournful tones, but as a victory. Although it will be washed off for decades, and then suffer from economic restructuring. It is quite likely that uprisings against the Empire will flare up, where there will definitely be its own Rebel Alliance. Unlikely, but cannot be ruled out. My policy is aimed at the common good, but far from everyone appreciates it. Lovers of the old order will always be found.
— Thinking? - EDI asked when we were approaching the Relay. — Let me guess. You don't like this Prothean technology, and you want to cause a wormhole effect, which, according to my calculations, will destroy the entire galaxy in two months, three days, eleven hours, thirty...
— You are too clinging to my technique, - I grumbled. — There are forces much more dangerous, just... not enough talent to use them yet.
— Correction: not you, but everyone. The Death Star station cameras captured the moment of your collision with the Reapers. Saren extracted maximum benefit and transferred the material to galactic media centers.
— And I was wondering why everyone is afraid of me... Doesn't matter. Even universal fear can be turned to advantage – to feed the dark side, - decided to ignore public opinion, since it gives a result.
— Too many things feed you. On some planets, the Emperor has already begun to be worshiped as a deity, - the synthetic reported.
A religion founded in my honor? Banal, but in the future I will most likely disappear, remaining only a legend. A dash in the Milky Way chronicles. Frankly speaking, with every year I want to leave paradise lands less and less. Here I spent more time than in my home galaxy. But, the desire for revenge practically drives me crazy.
Starkiller-I soon entered the relay network to transfer us to a large system with six planets – Aralakh. We were interested in the fourth, surrounded by orbital debris.
Above Tuchanka hung a belt of destroyed ships, mostly from the times of the Krogan Rebellions. For many, this was a reminder: it is better to be friends with the Citadel than to fight – otherwise the Council will not spare even an entire race. In any case, it was so before the transformation into the Empire. Now along the former... free periphery, many planets with a similar fate were found, occupied by us during annexations.
However, we did not cross the line – as, indeed, did the Citadel: the greatest damage to Tuchanka was inflicted by the natives themselves. The orange-red giant survived a full-fledged apocalypse due to reckless games with nuclear weapons.
The planet's atmosphere was dense, saturated with ash and radiation. Through the armored glass of the starship, it was visible how yellow clouds seethed in the sky like boiling lava. But cursed turbulence prevented enjoying the landscape: gravitational anomalies and traces of orbital strikes turned the approach into a hellishly risky enterprise.
And breaking through the smog, we saw a world scorched by civil war. Mountain ranges are dissected by canyons of unnatural origin, megacities turned into horror movie decorations, and sensors screamed about danger outside the ship.
The local air is capable of burning lungs even through filters of outdated spacesuit models. Krogan, accustomed to such a climate for centuries, probably just laugh at this poison. Like other inhabitants. There were quite a few of them. We detected several nests of varren – ferocious creatures that krogan hunt for combat excitement or food.
Around rare oases swarmed worms resembling thresher maws, and our landing zone... Eh, has seen better times. About four hundred years ago.
Landing, I enveloped my body with the Force – otherwise there is a risk of dying from radiation sickness almost instantly. Tali swallowed nervously, afraid of losing her newly acquired immunity at the slightest mistake of her filter. Even EDI, usually imperturbable, performed calculations, estimating how much time would be required to clean radioactive fallout on her platform.
The Reaper chose the best place for cover.
But it wasn't him who met us, but Wrex – a friendly crocodile:
— Starkiller! Don't think your armor will fool me! I know it's you! Just dare to tear apart my Tuchanka – I'll get you from underground!
— My bloodthirsty friend, you yourself will be buried in ashes, - Saren chuckled, who thanks to implants didn't care about the radiation background. – However, I agree: it is better to eliminate the enemy without unnecessary genocide of our allies. Otherwise we would have fired from the Death Star long ago.
— I calibrated it personally, - Garrus Vakarian added with an important air, raising a finger. — Geth tried to beat my record. Didn't work out. My secrets are too tough even for the smartest machines.
— We have already calculated them, - Legion calmly parried. — Welcome, Emperor. We have analyzed the enemy and its combat algorithms.
Data on the alpha-Reaper immediately came to my omni-tool. A new prototype, the only one that could fire a laser without a long recharge. And its armor withstood the squall fire of a dreadnought. Interestingly, according to records, it left the shelling zone using something resembling warp. As if teleported to Tuchanka, as if it has a built-in mini-relay. became clear why Saren stopped the operation – we need a relatively whole specimen to study new technologies.
— Glad you're alive, - Miranda hurried to us, who was working here on some project. Judging by the face of the exhausted Mordin, the matter concerned krogan. The salarian's gaze was cloudy from lack of sleep, fingers trembled – he clearly knew neither sleep nor rest, as during the work on bacta.
— Can't go on like this. I wanted to retire, to an island with shells. Fish. Breathe salty breeze... But, embarrassment.
— Mordin wants to say, - Miranda explained. — That we conducted bacta tests on Tuchanka: radiation accelerates the synthesis of a substance that suppresses aging. All experiments lead to a formula for a virus granting biological immortality.
— A planet created for extermination turned into a means of prolonging life? How cute, - I noted with obvious sarcasm.
— How wonderful that you decided to dance on our bones! - Wrex roared, hitting with fists. — If your two-legged midges stop dying quickly, how will you differ from us? We breed quickly. And now you age long? What, don't want to try the genophage on yourself?!
— Science is ruthless, - Mordin nodded restrainedly.
— But if we limit it to... - I clarified.
— Scientists. Inventors. Those without whom it is impossible to move forward? In theory, if strict dosing is established and the "spraying environment" is limited, then no one will suffer...
— Analysis... - EDI spoke. Everyone immediately looked askance at her with a suspicious squint, and then at me. What? I didn't supervise the production of her sexy platform. — Leakage of technology will lead to a battle for immortality.
— Maybe destroy? - Mordin asked. — I have little left – a year or two, no more. I don't strive for eternal life. But...
— Refusal of the cure is akin to suicide? - Tali understood sympathetically.
— Difficult, - the salarian spread his hands and immediately lowered them.
— Eternal wars, overpopulation, struggle for resources, - Miranda cast a glance at the apocalyptic wastelands of Tuchanka. — Example already exists.
— Scales are different. Galaxy and planet, - the salarian shook his head.
At this moment, the indicator on Legion's camera blinked.
— Reaper activity detected. Course shift... moving to the krogan base. Attack probability – eighty-seven percent.
— We have no time for reflections on ethics. Miranda, Mordin, collect research data and deliver them to the institute on the Citadel, - turned to Saren.
— Understood! - he raised his hand. — Garrus, Wrex... I will help you with evacuation.
— I won't cope with the Reaper, but I can support from the rear, - Tali offered.
— We will not argue with the Creators, - Legion carefully corrected. — They have the right to think that they will cope better than us.
— Correct. I will cope best of all, - EDI intervened, entering the struggle for a safe place.
Since no one else is rushing into the inferno, understandable, I'll go alone.
Shepard could help, but she is on Earth, sorting out the consequences. Three asari are digging on Thessia. What Javik is doing on Omega is a million credit question.
The most active gathered here... from among moral support.
Eh. Having reached the ground transport, I started it and headed to the indicated coordinates. No one cleared the way, had to grind aggressive wildlife. I moved towards the enemy everyone was running from – and therefore got into a real crush. Barely managed to get to the target...
Cursed hulk. How much scrap metal is in it? Two and a half times more than in Sovereign. And modernized to the highest standard... several guns allowed continuous laser fire.
— And yet a machine remains a machine, - I muttered, getting out of the transport and forcefully sending it with telekinesis straight into the Reaper's hull.
Its mobile tentacles froze, the hull turned, and cameras fixed... in its understanding – a microbe, a grain of sand by galaxy standards. But a grain of sand can get into the eye, right?
A hum rang out, the first gun heated up and fired.
The beam cut through the air, hitting exactly the target – my outstretched hand, which completely absorbed the energy. As Mordin would say: an embarrassment occurred. In panic, the Reaper fired from the remaining guns, aiming at the surroundings, trying to cover me with a blast wave. I didn't dodge, covering the space with a triple force shield. The first layer was pierced, the second crumbled, the third, adjacent to the body – only scratched.
— Come on, piece of iron, show what you are capable of! - I grinned, tearing one of the guns with telekinesis with a light movement of the hand.
New series of beams.
I intervened again, shifting their trajectories. At the same time, lifted the debris of the collapsed tower into the air and threw them at the Reaper. The action seemed like mockery, but dust and debris helped hide a point strike with Force lightning, which disabled the last combat installations.
The Reaper backed up and used engines to the full, trying to fly away. But I made it: stretched out a hand, pressing it to the ground with a gravitational crush. Surprisingly, it didn't explode – apparently, refused the tactic "urgent tentacles in hands... or whatever squids have" in time.
Gathering all the power of the Force, I hit the weak spot – the connection of legs with the hull.
Metal cracked, and the Reaper collapsed, completely losing combat capability.
— Force is something more than metal and calculations, - hissed, activating the lightsaber and throwing it into the Reaper's head. Then pulled, turning off the scarlet blade.
Now can declare victory and throw a party for our own.
...
— The frog in the well did not see the sea, but saw the sky, - sighing, I stared into the ashen skies, wondering with whom to spend the last joyful moments in this galaxy. Will call the closest teammates... and beauties, for example, Aria T'Loak. Will walk from dusk till dawn.
Dawn...
By that moment there will be nothing to regret.
I made a final decision: what to do with the goal of my whole life – revenge.
Chapter 34: Citadel Party
If during training with Darth Vader I was told that after a large-scale battle I would end up on the most expensive station in the galaxy and throw a party, I would have laughed right in the face of this brave man. But here I am – in luxurious apartments of the Citadel, with a bottle of elite whiskey in one hand and a holographic guest list in the other.
The suicide squad deserved a decent rest after everything we went through: usurpation of power, unification of the Milky Way under the auspices of the Empire, crazy battles with Reapers in different sectors.
I couldn't save or help everyone, only destroyed more than half of the total number of enemy forces. The rest was done by our army and my team, thereby putting an end to cycles of destruction and rebirth; these organics and synthetics are heroes.
Team members deserved not only this night, but also centuries of peace and prosperity.
Under my Sith control, I will once and for all rid the galaxy of red sand, space piracy and internal strife. Even without personal participation... as long as the system is strong, if reliably built on the bones of the old era. But I am not going to leave the post of Emperor for good. My compromise lies in revenge. As soon as the last enemies lay down their heads, I will no longer need the galaxy far, far away – so dear and just as alien.
Already accepted the challenge: through Force Storm open a wormhole to another Empire, fight with Sidious and Vader, win and return. Or at least try. Unlike Reapers, these two are seasoned Sith, soaked to the teeth with Force.
Will deal with them immediately after the party.
First things first – music.
Connected to the apartment's audio systems and compiled a playlist of cheerful, but not intrusive tracks. Didn't want Saren and Garrus to start firing at speakers. Or see bored krogan – a very dangerous state. So a compromise is necessary: to the chosen music one can both light up on the dance floor, and conduct conversations to the rhythm of the bass without a toothy threat behind the back.
And what holiday without snacks? Ordered everything best available to a dictator: from steaks for krogan to exquisite desserts that Liara and her mother Benezia will definitely like. And, of course, alcohol. A lot of booze. If the party doesn't end in blackout and morning chaos – I tried poorly. This could not be allowed.
Casting a glance at Proxy, my old friend and droid, asking:
— As a synthetic, tell me, how to get a cute synthetic drunk? - hinted at EDI.
— With a lightsaber right into the core, - he responded, activating my purple sword, which I handed to him after the war. — Strikes any program on the spot.
— Clear. Better not ask you for advice... - I sighed, deciding to simply ask the onboard AI to simulate intoxication through appropriate protocols.
— Should we not prepare for new threats? - Proxy clarified, honing fencing technique. He constantly prepares surprises for me, because his main task is the elimination of his master. This keeps me in shape, however, for my own safety I temporarily disabled this function. It will be extremely sad to get drunk and wake up without a head.
— Relax, - nodded. — Will destroy everyone who dares to bare fangs. Today we celebrate. Tomorrow a long road awaits us. Hope, with a return.
Finishing sending invitations, I straightened up, waiting for guests.
Liara T'Soni arrived first, as befits my secretary, always being nearby in peacetime. Besides, our relationship has strengthened greatly: without my help, her home planet would have been wiped off the face of the galaxy. We allocated more resources to save Thessia than to the same Tuchanka or Sur'Kesh. Her world became the second priority after my second homeland Earth.
A little later Benezia and Saren pulled up. In the past dangerous conspirators, traitors to the Citadel, master and slave. Now famous heroes of the galaxy. Moreover, the turian became the second most important figure in all controlled systems.
As long as our interests do not intersect, we have a chance for peaceful coexistence. Under his control is the lever of power in the form of the Inquisition from former Spectres and Justicars. Under mine is overwhelming superiority in any military confrontation. We have no reason to gnaw each other's throats for even more power.
As for Matriarch Benezia? She headed the council on Thessia, becoming, in fact, the sole queen. Of course under the patronage of the Emperor. And she received the position not only for the most voluminous chest among asari, her authority can only be envied.
However, both Liara and her mother appeared in luxurious dresses, which were chosen longer than my personal confrontation with the Reapers lasted. Outfits were exquisite and downright the latest fashion squeak. But Saren let down – didn't change himself and appeared in combat armor, with which he had long merged due to the abundance of implants. Miranda and the bacta tank are capable of helping him, but the strongest Spectre in history chose not a biological body, but Power. However, I understand him, everyone makes a choice in favor of what is closer to the heart.
Fossil animal, the only surviving Prothean Javik, arrived in the company of Zaeed and Aria T'Loak. The main mercenary of the galaxy reeked of alcohol no less than a hutt's mouth; he celebrated the victory over the Reapers famously somewhere near Omega.
Aria looked gloomy, as if someone had recently squeezed almost all power from her and left with nothing. Judging by her angry look at me, she has already appointed the culprit. Although, as many times as we met, the queen of Omega always behaved aloofly.
But Javik was on a roll, grinning victoriously and, it seems, mentally preparing to dance on the bones of the Reapers. I helped him avenge the vanished civilization, true, how to help revive his race – have no idea. This is the task of genetic engineers, after all, the project with cloning krogan was successful, we are also capable of putting warlike Protheans on stream in the near future. The main thing is that it doesn't smell like an attack of the clones.
The quarian descended together with Jane Shepard and Miranda Lawson – probably crossed paths on the way. If Miranda and Jane looked exhausted and clearly tired, then Tali, on the contrary, radiated optimism, judging by the cheerful gait and elegant suit with patterns reminiscent of her native Rannoch.
Hmm...
Miranda... had a couple of ideas how to quickly cheer her up.
Synthetics, Legion and EDI, arrived as a couple and even after entering spacious apartments did not stop arguing whose program is more perfect. Proxy soon approached them to remind – who is the main in the code kingdom, and how primitive they all are. Hope the Rise of the Machines doesn't happen by morning.
Exactly on schedule, as the personification of punctuality, arrived the best fighters from Saren's squad – after all, it was he who recruited them.
Jack, a lively and daring girl, drilled the "high society party" with a gloomy look. Give her will, she will spit on the floor with disgust. Anything can be expected from former prisoners of the galactic prison. Also recall that Jack was enrolled in an elite squad of biotics, mortality in which went off scale due to the danger of missions.
Kasumi Goto, the current head of digital security, was quite possibly not averse to stealing something valuable on occasion, given her kleptomaniac quirks. Saren grumbles at her almost daily, but can do nothing – she tracks all credit frauds within the Empire with such efficiency that she receives tacit permission for her pranks. Kasumi alone is equal to the entire information environment of the Shadow Broker.
The rest lingered slightly...
Samara with her daughter were literally a couple of minutes late. What struck in them was the absolute similarity of appearance, probably, they looked more like twin sisters. But if I felt nothing for Morinth, then I harbored exclusively warm feelings for her mother. Former justicar. Had we not met then on Thessia, perhaps everything would have turned out differently. After Samara joined the team among the first, my rule "working alone is easier, no one will keep up anyway" – somehow evaporated by itself.
Mordin was already fifteen minutes late. After politely apologized, reporting that he tested new drugs based on improved bacta from Tuchanka on himself. The self-confident scientist first tested his brainchild on himself – without clinical tests and certifications. Fortunately, did without a funeral. This salarian is a damn valuable frame, he cannot be lost foolishly.
But Wrex and Grunt did not fail to remind that they should be thanked just for responding to the invitation at all. Additionally, krogan accused that it doesn't smell strongly enough of alcohol here, music doesn't tear eardrums, and krogan steaks are catastrophically few even for one. Uh-huh. Mountain of food, it turns out, only on a tooth. Voracious savages from radiation wastelands, in a word – barbarians.
Garrus Vakarian, having access to all buildings on the Citadel, slipped unnoticed, pretending not to be late at all.
— Where is the strongest stuff here? – the turian asked calmly. — After everything that happened, I need to forget a couple... of stormy details.
— Do not doubt, - pointed to the bar, where bottles were already lined up, portending the first wave of our moral fall.
— I checked all security systems, - EDI approached us. — Malfunctions in the apartment's work not detected. Leather bags can rest peacefully.
— Oh, no-no, - Zaeed raised a bottle. — Never trust machines. They are simple as two cartridge cases. Without a gram of creativity. I can plant two mines, and these synthetic boxes won't even notice.
— Oh, mines? - Garrus noticeably livened up.
— Discuss the orbital cannon too, - Aria rolled her eyes, importantly sitting on the bar counter and sipping the most expensive bottle of wine from the throat. This young lady definitely knew how to squeeze the maximum out of any situation.
— Bastards! And who pours the booze?! A party without a bartender – sucks! - Jack also sat next to the "throne of the queen of Omega", causing a grimace in her: Aria looked at the girl with dozens of tattoos like street trash.
— Oh, ladies! I am the best when it comes to drinks... - the lonely turian tried to get himself a girlfriend, otherwise he wouldn't have jumped behind the bar counter to moonlight as a bartender.
— Will you calibrate the degree? - Saren grinned, crossing his arms.
Meanwhile, two krogan, jostling at the counter, completely ignored Garrus, grabbed bottles and opened them with their teeth.
— Who drinks less – is a worm! - the leader roared, looking arrogantly at his cloned brother.
— Ha! Old age wants to outdrink ME? Not in a lifetime! - Grunt stated ferociously, pouring two bottles into himself at once. — Khaaakh! What a setup?! Where is the hangover?!
— And you don't take ladies' drinks, - I suggested, pulling the most deadly swill from the upper shelves with telekinesis. — Agebin storm. Will burn insides... And to whom am I explaining this?
Grunt poured everything into himself at once, roared and threw up his hands as if breaking a rock with bare hands. But immediately began to stagger, and yet alcohol only began to react with his organism.
— Give me two! - Wrex demanded, but received one for now. — Ah... once my liver knew better times. But the young won't outdrink me! For Tuchanka! For krogan! For the future of our race!
Grunt won after all.
Mordin rushed to save Wrex's liver with a military remedy splitting toxins in a minute. Only made it worse: learning about the "lifeline", krogan stopped restraining themselves.
— Primitive creatures, — Javik mumbled, elegantly addicted to snacks. Not for long. His fossil hands quickly got to the booze.
Start of the improvised party was announced. And the faster the stocks of alcohol ran out, mystically replenished thanks to my skills to pull boxes from the cellar with the power of thought, the livelier the squad became. It came to dancing, and the first to rush was the one from whom I expected it least of all.
Javik.
To thundering music and alcoholic fever, the Prothean staged a show on the improvised dance floor, waving a war trophy. Looking closely, I was surprised: it really was a plate from a Reaper. Had he a soul – it would definitely be smoked in hell. Part of the doomsday weapon was used as a simple disco ball.
— Hey, Emperor! - he shouted to the roar of music, swaying as if one breath could knock him down. — Will you stand like a statue or accept the challenge of the most magnificent creature in the galaxy?!
Hmm, being the last representative of your race is oh-so convenient.
You are automatically the best in everything.
Even wanted to check if Javik can fly with the help of the Force. But a throw out the window, I'm afraid, not everyone will appreciate. The pool was in another room, and the party was just gaining momentum – still far until four in the morning.
— Star, - Saren grimaced, continuing to lose to Benezia in galactic paintball. The second person in the Empire hopelessly yielded to his sworn girlfriend and already burned with desperate excitement to win back. — Will you really fall for a "dare" from a four-eyed?
— Let the children play, Saren, - Benezia added fuel to the fire, throwing a ball and scoring twice as many points.
— Woman... - the turian grumbled.
— Indeed, - I shrugged and went to test myself in this difficult matter. Alas, my dancing skills came down to repeating fencing forms. Without a sword it looked less impressive, but still will pass for a solid C plus.
Jack is another matter. Contrary to expectations, she turned out to be a skillful, if not the best dancer among all of us. Even the quarian yielded strongly to her, but, having got drunk, Tali became much more enthusiastic. Also crooked legs helped perform rarely seductive movements.
Because of the dance, I didn't even immediately notice how Garrus and Zaeed suspiciously moved to a corner "just to chat". Uh-huh, calibrator and pirate mercenary – really interesting what they can throw out under a high degree. Look at synthetics with such a look as if they are interfering. Hmm, after a cursory inspection... did they go to the bathroom together? Since it didn't work out with Aria, let the Force judge Garrus.
— Imperial underwear... if sold to fanatics, can get rich... M-mmm, what else to swipe? - Kasumi muttered, having cleaned out my bedroom on the quiet.
Eh, as if I had any secrets there. Even in Proxy's mind there are ten times more of them – I was able to place standard templates for training in digital code, including Obi-Wan or the same Darth Vader.
— I'll beat you! - proclaimed Shepard, daring to fight in arm wrestling with Wrex.
— Girl, I snacked on the likes of you in hungry years, - our crocodile opened his mouth slightly and extended a hand.
Shepard grabbed it to measure strength, but their duel was interrupted by an explosion in the bathroom. Thirty seconds later, slightly stunned Garrus and Zaeed, covered in soot, returned to the hall and looked triumphantly at the synthetics. Those ignored them, continuing to fight with computing powers.
— I simulate intoxication better, - EDI stated.
— We are perfect. And you are boxes created by us, - Legion shook the camera, perfectly imitating human weaknesses. — Geth are the best at demonstrating organic madness. This is not discussed.
— You are both deeply mistaken, - Proxy intervened, activating the psionic camouflage program to visually transform into Darth Sidious. Looks like he got drunk on electrolyte. — Intoxication is a relative thing, - the robot spoke gloomily, barely hiding a semblance of an evil smile under the hood.
— I suggest solving everything rationally... - the synthetic beauty pointed to Grunt, arguing with Miranda about the nature of true power: muscles against biotics. — Who convinces a drunk krogan that he is an asari, wins.
— Your nuts have rusted, - in the image of Palpatine my friend steepled his fingers. – Victory will go to the one who instills in the crocodile that he is sexy in a skirt. Blinding victory in this simple manipulation will remain with me!
Grunt shuddered as if a sixth sense had worked.
And it's only midnight... not far to civil war.