Life on the Normandy
Summary: Series of stories about how things go on the Normandy during both games. Unfortunately for her crew, Shepard runs a very loose ship…
A/N: Not really sure how this is going to turn out but I've got a few ideas. It should get better as I go along so please give it a chance. In any case, please read and review.
Miranda was starting to consider getting steel bars installed at her door. It would make life so much simpler…Of course that would also trap her in her own office and she would probably starve to death consequently. Oh well, it was still fun to fantasize sometimes. She knew her problem; yes she knew it all too well. It was that damn crew out there!
Every day they would come, like a horde of husks, brandishing reports in her face and complaining about some menial problem or another. She had seriously considered blasting them all away with that grenade launcher of Shepard's or perhaps biotically throwing them out into space. Why the hell was she doing this anyway? To begin with, there was a reason why they called her little-miss-perfect, was way overqualified for this! And really, bringing someone back from the dead, and not even in zombie form, entitled her to a vacation!
The last straw had been yesterday though when she realized that no one was safe anymore, not even Shepard whom she considered the last sane person besides herself on this flying circus tent. She had been working late, as usual since it seemed that a ship about to undertake a suicide mission is really in dire need of "bright artwork", which according to Yeoman Chambers would "really improve morale!" Yes, because that was a great comfort, everyone might die tomorrow but at least they'll be able to see some great artwork before they lose everything they ever held dear! Anyway, she was working when a commotion outside her door caught her attention. Grateful for an excuse to abandon the mountain of files on her desk, she opened her door and made to get out of her quarters before being slammed backwards by a massive force. She ended up crushed between the remains of her smashed desk and the considerable weight of the tank-born krogan, Grunt. Her only thought before passing out was "Well that takes care of the paperwork…"
As Jacob explained it to her the next morning when she had awoken in the med bay, it appeared that the reason for her being hit by a krogan cannonball was a bet between Grunt and Shepard. Apparently they were wrestling. And somehow the unarmed human woman with no biotic power whatsoever managed to overtake the 300-pound alien created with the intent of being the perfect weapon and throw him straight at her. Miranda decided right then and there: to hell with the galaxy and their Collectors, she needed some shore leave. Or a drink. Preferably both.