Author's Note: All characters/Mass Effect is the property of Bioware/EA. No infringement intended. I'm just filling in some of their plotholes.
Alliance Central Command
Vancouver, Canada
Admiral Steven Hackett looked the Alliance's top psychologist square in the eye for a long, long moment, and then indicated the datapad lying on his desktop with the wave of one hand. "What is this?"
"My psychological profile and analysis of Commander Shepard."
"No, that's what you think it is. So I'll ask you again, what is this?"
Doctor Geeling adjusted his uniform, correcting the minute wrinkle that appeared at the hem. "Admiral? I'm afraid I don't understand."
"That is beyond painfully obvious. " Hackett picked up the datapad with two fingers, as if it was composed of rotting garbage and compressed shit instead of circuitry and holography. "I'm aware that the Defense Committee asked for you, personally, to evaluate Commander Shepard. I'm also aware that there is a portion of the Alliance brass that has more than a few ulterior motives for branding Shepard a..." Hackett consulted the datapad, "'regrettably disturbed individual suffering from acute and likely chronic PTSD and messianic delusions exacerbated by a willing association with a radical pro-human terrorist organization'. Therefore, I am giving your assessment the kind of attention it deserves."
He dropped the datapad onto the floor and nonchalantly brought his heel down on it. There was a satisfying crunch, and the scrolling recommendations for solitary confinement and heavy anti-psychotic drugs sputtered and died in a flicker of orange light.
"Sir, I was directly ordered - " Geeling sputtered.
The look Hackett gave the psychologist had been known to halt krogan in their tracks. It had a similar, gratifying reaction from the other man. "I know what you were ordered to do," he said, deep voice lethally soft. "You tell them that. I know. And I'm not allowing it. Now get out."
Geeling scrambled to comply. When he was alone, the admiral leaned back in his chair and contemplated the ceiling for long moments. "Shit," he said softly, then activated a small, handheld sonic jamming device to blanket the room before he keyed in a familiar, heavily encrypted channel on his omnitool. "Admiral. We have a situation. They're moving faster than we thought."
The baritone that rolled out of the speakers was even deeper than Steven's own, and considerably richer. "How bad?"
"Bad enough. I just intercepted an institutionalization order with a drug regimen that would stun a krogan. Get your team moving on your end. There's bound to be a flurry of communications starting any minute. Monitor this Doctor Geeling and anyone he talks to."
"I'll put my best man on it." Anderson's voice was uncharacteristically grim. "Don't think he'll be pleased to be pulled away from his students, but I'm certain he'll come around."
"Let me know if you turn up anything." Hackett glanced down at the crushed datapad again. "And Admiral, get Shepard a guard. Someone we're sure we can trust."
"I have just the man in mind. He's on Omega at the moment, but I can have him here in a fast transport within a day or two."
"Then your best man had better be on duty right now, and stay that way until his backup comes. We can't lose Shepard or we'll lose this war." Hackett rubbed his eyes. "Good luck, admiral."
"You too." Silence abruptly filled the office as both comm channel and jammer switched off. Hackett closed his eyes wearily. "Shit."
