Entering the med bay, Shepard immediately went to the cot where the turian lay on his back.
Chakwas handed the executive officer a reader with a summary of the patient's condition. The captain of the special forces spent several minutes studying the short text. And once again he was convinced how masterfully Karin could explain medical "thickets" in a simple, clear way for a non-specialist:
"Does Nihlus know?" the XO asked quietly.
"No. I didn't tell him anything. The med bay is isolated. He hasn't left his cabin even once. Comms lines are blocked. A VI checked recently—full isolation," Chakwas answered. "John, what are we going to do? Two Citadel Council Spectres on our ship is a bit too much."
"More than too much, Karin." Shepard typed a short text on the reader and showed it to the doctor. "They know each other very well."
"Uh-huh. And if something happens, that young one will come to me to 'raise hell.' And ask why I couldn't pull his mentor through?"
"I'll explain it to him in plain language, Karin," the XO objected. "And he'll leave you alone quickly and for a long time. It'll be enough for him to know that you, Doctor, aren't a narrow specialist in psychology and psychiatry. And also not a specialist in sanitizing the psychosphere of aliens. That he's capable of understanding in any case. And in almost any condition," Shepard replied.
"I hope so, John. Let's go to her." She indicated the asari sprawled on her back on the neighboring bed. "You were right to quickly splint the fractures and smear the wounds with several layers of medi-gel with panacelin. Those layers also served… as immobilization. And isolated the injuries. I also wanted to thank you for the gentle transport."
"No need, Karin." Shepard took another reader the frigate's doctor handed him and began studying the texts, diagrams, and tables.
There was more information here: the asari had been harmed more significantly.
"You even managed, Karin, to determine that he," a glance at the turian, "was the first to fall under programming and external control, and then she," a glance at the asari, "became the victim of this ship and its pilot? Hats off." Shepard said it sincerely and quietly. "Few instructors at the N7 Academy medical faculty could compete with you."
"Still, John, I feel powerless," Chakwas answered. "If I can cope with physiology and anatomy at least somewhat, then with the psyche after something like that… Here my abilities, knowledge, and skills are clearly not enough. This is the first time I've encountered such deep warping of the psychosphere."
"Fine, Karin." Shepard straightened, once again adopting the tuning of the "String." This time—not a combat one. "I'll need up to five minutes for each of them. Maybe not much more. I'll say up front: I'll remove only the deepest, main, important damage. So the turian's and the asari's psychospheres regain the ability to regenerate. After that, both psychospheres will handle the remaining problems themselves. And don't worry. There won't be any shamanism here."
"I know, John." Chakwas stepped away from the XO. "I'll be nearby. Proceed."
Shepard let his gaze slide over the body of the elderly asari lying on her back and focused on her face. In the human's mind, on the already familiar "screen," basic data on the physiology and anatomy of this species flared up. Indicators—taken directly from the injured asari's infofield—assembled themselves.
Holding back entirely understandable amazement, the XO realized: a new part of his unusual newly acquired abilities had activated.
Some indicators immediately turned red and obediently expanded into schematics and tables pointing to blockages in the psychosphere. Making sure the identified blocks were unnatural, Shepard carefully began to examine their surroundings so as not to miss traps and hidden surprises.
"Anchors" reliably pointed to the ship's pilot and to the ship itself. The double "anchor" hook ensured sufficient obedience and loyalty in the asari. Even if, somehow, the Reaper's prisoner managed to harm either the "cuttlefish" or its control center.
Removing the main "blocks," Shepard followed the connections in both directions, carefully studying the surroundings, searching for "sleeping sentries." Finally, convinced that there were no surprises anywhere in the injured woman's body, Shepard began carefully freeing the asari's mind and essence from all secondary and tertiary hooks that ensured direct control of the rescued woman's personality and body.
The work did not take long. Exactly six minutes later, Shepard "surfaced" from the state of maximum concentration, letting his body relax and allowing his brain to shift back into a normal mode.
"Karin, check the readings. I'm done with her," Shepard said in a low voice, taking several steps toward the turian's cot and giving the ship's doctor room to come closer to the asari's bed. "Keep her asleep as long as you can," the XO added. "It'll allow her to self-recover. The rest is at your discretion."
"All right, Shepard." The doctor activated her omni-tool and checked the readings taken by the med bay's automation before and after the executive officer's manipulations. "You've made my job much easier."
"Hope it helps her." Shepard leaned over the turian. "But here I'll have to work deeper. Karin, pass a request to the commander for the archaeologists to delay departure for the new area. I'll need an additional half hour. On top of the twenty minutes mentioned earlier."
"I'll do it, John." Karin stepped away from the asari on the hospital bed, returned to her work desk, and typed a short message on the desktop omni-tool keyboard. "The commander received your message. He'll pass it to the archaeological party leadership. I think the scientists won't object. I'm glad you'll be able to give the patients attention, Captain."
Shepard paid no special attention to the doctor's last words. He plunged again into scanning the turian's psychosphere.
The half hour he requested was the minimal necessary time. The Spectre, the first to fall under direct programming, had implants in his body that produced a truly monstrous cocktail of effects on his body, organism, and psyche. These implants had nothing in common with those the special forces captain had previously encountered. So Shepard tried to reliably isolate them from influencing the main systems of the sentient organic's body and brain.
Cutting the interconnections was difficult. Implants covered almost the entire body of the turian, creating a kind of skeleton duplicating the natural bone structure.
First he had to concentrate on those as close as possible to the sleeping patient's brain. And after removing their influence, slowly deal with the rest—securely embedded in the turian's limbs, torso, and head.
He knew Chakwas was recording positive changes using sensitive instruments. But he preferred not to react to that knowledge, disabling more and more interconnections.
Finally, the turian's brain and spinal cord were fully freed from the implants' influence. After disabling the conductors controlling the main systems and organs of the turian's torso, Shepard scanned the patient's head, face, and body, searching for hidden implants and locks. There were few. A second scan revealed several more "sentries" and traps.
Shepard knew the time—the half hour buffer—was running out fast. It always did when he gave himself completely to work. But now he couldn't stop: any pause could activate an unnoticed lock and ruin an important organ in the patient's body.
Freeing the turian's torso from the influence of locks and countless foreign implants, Shepard let his "scanning" gaze slide down the Spectre's powerful legs. There, too, he found locks and implants.
The "cuttlefish," guided by its merciless pilot, had done everything to ensure the turian would be unable to offer the slightest resistance. And, if necessary, would be unable to move either upper or lower limbs. Disabling interconnections and conductors with precisely measured pulses, Shepard gradually brought his gaze closer to the turian's feet.
After disabling the last two "locks," the captain scanned the Spectre's body several times again. And finding no surprises, he allowed himself to relax.
"John…" Karin's quiet voice sounded. "You don't even realize what you have."
"Maybe, Karin, maybe," Shepard said quietly. He turned slowly and met the frigate doctor's eyes, radiating kindness and concern. "Just don't give me stimulant injections." The landing captain's hand found the suit's shoulder speaker. "Commander, I'm finished. I need a few minutes… to come to. And I'll head down to the hangar. Ask Steve and my landing team with Corporal Jenkins to be there as well. Let the archaeologists guide their column by our shuttle's beacon. I'll transmit refined coordinates over the audio channel."
"All right, John." Anderson's voice was unusually quiet and gentle. "Thank you. You now have sentient beings who owe you their lives. And their freedom." With those words, the captain cut the channel.
Chakwas's omni-tool chirped.
"John," the doctor said after reading the incoming message. "Anderson informed the archaeologists. They agree to wait for the shuttle's departure. They understand you're busy. Let me at least give you a herbal decoction. It's not stimulants—just restorative. You're exhausted, John," Chakwas added.
"Karin, has anyone ever told you that you're always extremely persuasive?" Shepard asked without smiling, accepting the vessel with the decoction from the ship's doctor.
"After the miracle I recently witnessed—no one," Chakwas answered honestly, watching the landing commander take small, unhurried sips, then carefully set the vessel on the bedside table. "I assume now we can remove most of the implants from his body," she indicated the turian with her eyes.
"Yes, Karin. I won't be able to help there." Shepard's lips twitched at the corners as he felt the warmth of the decoction spreading through his body. "That's your field, Doctor. He's… one of the most difficult patients. With her," a glance toward the asari, "it'll be easier."
"You're right, John." The doctor looked Shepard over attentively. "The decoction will take effect in a few minutes." She pressed a key on the wall console and glanced at the small info screen that lit up. "Ingvar is free now. He'll escort you to the shuttle, Captain. I can't let you leave the med bay alone."
"Understood, Doctor." Shepard raised both hands to shoulder level in a slow, joking gesture. "Complying."
"Good." Chakwas stepped aside, letting the electronic warfare specialist who entered offer the captain his shoulder. "Good luck, John," she said softly.
Her reply was a deep nod from the captain as he stepped over the med bay threshold. The door slid into place. A red access-denied signal lit up on it.
"If it weren't for him, I'd have had two corpses in my med bay. And an interspecies scandal later," the doctor said quietly, sorting instruments in the surgical kit. "Well then. He's done his job. Now it's my turn to work."
Chakwas pulled on fresh sterile gloves and covered her face with a mask.
"But as soon as he's back aboard, he'll become my patient. He needs rest and sleep. It would be good if he can doze while he's flying to the excavation site." The doctor adjusted the light above the turian's cot and took up a thermal scalpel. "Let's begin."