This is my favorite chapter. Why? Because Mordin is awesome, that's why.
After-Action Reports
7. Professionalism
"You son of a bitch." Right hand clenching into a tight fist, Dylan tried to think of something to throw back at him, anything to gain the upper hand or even just a decent comeback. As much as he hated to admit it, he couldn't deny that he needed the Illusive Man as much as the Illusive Man needed him. For now, at least. "You just get off on manipulating people."
"Call it my vice," was the answer. "Since it's a useful skill, I won't apologize for it. Take some downtime, Shepard. Be the noble Spectre and save the galaxy from small-time terrorists, if you want. Blow off some steam. With the Collectors gone and their records up in smoke with their base, we have precious little to go on right now. I'll be in touch."
He closed the comm channel before Dylan could answer.
"Any trouble with the repairs yet, EDI?" Despite knowing that EDI would warn him before anyone walked into earshot, Joker couldn't help but look over his shoulder.
"No, Jeff; the Citadel engineers are proceeding efficiently. They have also ceased attempts to access my core hardware."
"Well, that's good," Joker cracked his knuckles and slouched back in his chair. He was bored, true, but there wasn't really anything better to do than sit around and look out the windows. As useless as they were for site-seeing, it was nice to have a window to the outside.
Considering his legs worked better now, he was really starting to wonder if the hermit routine was still the way to go.
Footsteps on the deck behind broke Joker from his thoughts. He tapped part of the small haptic screen on top of the armrest, taking a deep breath as his chair turned so he could say something meaningful, if need be. It turned out there wouldn't be a need, he wasn't being approached by one of the crew, but rather, one of the repair team, who was caught unawares looking at his omnitool as he walked. He seemed to have planned on saying something to be acknowledged, but Joker beat him to it. "Need anything?"
"Uh," the engineer stammered, his omnitool fading off. "We're, uh...we're trying to repair some structural damage on the starboard side of this deck, but..."
He seemed embarrassed, so Joker put on his best people-person smile. It wasn't much, but he didn't care. "But?"
Sighing, maybe thinking that he wouldn't be believed, the engineer said, "There's this crazy Salarian who won't leave. Could you do something about it?"
Joker's face fell. He didn't dislike Mordin, even if Mordin tended to ramble and be all intellectual. He didn't want to tell Mordin what to do, either, because Mordin probably wouldn't think anything of setting him on fire. Nevertheless, he supposed it was better than letting the unsuspecting engineers take casualties, and Joker thus begun the process of pushing himself out of his chair. "Yeah, sure, I'll...talk to him."
Not that Joker really knew Mordin all that well. Maybe they would get along and actually turn into great friends, he thought.
Joker's next thought was about how, maybe, the Citadel relay would activate and send him a million credits instead of Harbinger and his buddies.
Hobbling to the lab wasn't much of an affair; he could see the unfortunate engineer who'd come to fetch him out of the corner of his eye, wondering if he should ask why they weren't walking faster or if he should just be happy that he'd found someone, anyone on the ship that seemed to represent any kind of authority to handle the problem. Thinking that the word 'problem' was best meant loosely, Joker wondered what was really going on. Sure, Mordin was a little crazy, and sure, he had much less trouble killing people than most doctors, but he wasn't some psychopathic mass-murderer.
He probably wasn't some psychopathic mass-murderer, Joker decided. True to this, the scene in the lab was more of a sitcom than a slaughter. Although Mordin didn't look extremely bothered, he was clearly having an argument with other engineers.
"Can't leave yet, too much to do first." He went from the console on the wall to the table, where he seemed to have several pieces of equipment in use, not the least of which was the fancy looking microscope he took a glance in before he went back to the display next to it. "Many projects, can't interrupt. Also, must back up data. Very sensitive, can't just leave out. You understand."
That Mordin had been working here since the mission was probably the craziest of it all. Joker noted the window and the absence of any transparent material, half the frame and the bulkhead next to it gone, a mass-effect field shimmering over the breach. Mordin's table was the only clean spot in the room, the deck had broken glass scattered everywhere from either thrown vials or the window, Joker couldn't tell. Dried puddles of who-knew-what kind of science-related goo colored the metal floorboards in some places, and Mordin's seeker-swarm bug danced around erratically in a jar, agitated by the commotion.
The engineers were flustered. One of them was trying to access EDI, to which she replied by popping up on the holographic emitter and saying, "I am sorry, but there appears to be an error in your syntax. Would you like to cease the process, resubmit your request, or abandon the command-string?"
"Sir, we understand," another said to Mordin, her tone of voice not one that would make Mordin feel particularly well-addressed. "But there's a giant hole in the side of your room, if you'll just give us a few hours to fix it..."
"No, just fix last!" Mordin declared. "Will be done by then. All the space you need, can even replace furniture..."
At least one of the engineers was outright ignoring him, and took it upon himself to start cleaning up. Unfortunately, he started by picking up the container holding the seeker-swarm bug.
Joker didn't like where this was going, and he'd stopped assuming that he had any way of making it go better. He had no desire to watch Mordin flip his shit, but he didn't know what else to do other than call the engineer out on touching things he didn't understand, since Mordin hadn't noticed yet. "Hey, uh, you should really put that down."
Mordin's face quickly twisted into shock, his eyes and mouth widening. He looked like he wanted to scream, but he was too professional for such a reaction, gasping as he inhaled instead.
It wouldn't have helped anyway. The engineer carrying the jar was startled when the bug became aggressive and tried to ram the side, spreading a pattern of cracks out. He dropped it and the damage already done caused it to break, not nearly as dramatically as a shattering glass, but the side split more than wide enough for the bug to fly out.
It stung the engineer right in the neck, and then went to hovering about, deciding what its next target should be while they all stared, confused.
It zoomed for the engineer that had tried to calm Mordin down, and she almost screamed, too, but she wasn't cut off by the bug or self-control, she stopped making noise when the sound of a pistol unfolding was followed immediately by a gunshot, the mass-accelerator's report reverberating slightly in the acoustics of the lab.
Half of its insides blown out and splattered on the wall, the seeker-swarm bug fell straight down, hitting the deck with a soft, squishy noise. The two remaining engineers stood stunned for a few seconds...until it became apparent that their friend was about to fall.
"I feel terrible," he groaned, keeling over just before the one who'd asked Joker to come could dive and catch him.
Unsympathetic, Mordin stopped pointing his pistol, but he kept it in-hand as he started waving a finger with the other. "Unprofessional! Would not blindly stick hands in mass-effect core, would not randomly point repair tools at people and push buttons! Should not presume everything in a specialist's work area is safe! Unacceptable!"
"Great," Joker sighed. "Okay, guys, time to take a break, maybe bring your friend here down to sickbay..."
It wasn't hard to talk the engineers out after all that, and, truth be told, Joker wasn't entirely sympathetic either.
Once they were gone, Mordin's attitude did a near one-eighty. He put his pistol down on the table like he hadn't realized it was even in his hand. "Apologies. Could have talked them out."
"Aw, hell, Professor," Joker shrugged. Much like with any of the highly trained killers on the ship, Joker would've said the same thing even if he actually disagreed, but in this case, he was being honest. Straitening his hat, he said, "You don't need to apologize for someone else's stupidity, those guys are idiots."
"True; unfortunate Keepers do not fix docked ships." Pausing, putting a hand to his chin, Mordin latched onto this thought and went clear off-track, even pacing for a few steps. "Hmm, could be useful, though. Keepers reprogrammable, could introduce new genetic conditioning same way Protheans did, would have to figure out how, of course. No, would rearrange ships as well, likely change entire internal designs. Nevermind."
Blinking a few times, Joker finally said, "Right." Looking at Mordin for a second, feeling more than a little awkward, Joker decided that silence wasn't going to accomplish much. "Look, they won't be back for awhile, why don't you get some air? I mean," he decided he didn't want to listen to Mordin actually parse the expression, if it turned out Salarians didn't have the same figure of speech, "Get out of this room for a few minutes, relax? You can be back before they are." Glancing at the missing bulkhead, Joker added, "Besides, uh, that can't be safe."
"Not to worry; emergency seal in no danger of failing, according to EDI. Am assured of this." Pausing to take a deep breath, large eyes closing as if he needed to think for a second, Mordin added, "Still, have not stopped working since mission. Easy to forget personal needs. Enjoy work, but time off...may be beneficial."
Mordin didn't actually move, though. Before things got uncomfortable, Joker prodded him. "So...what are you gonna do?"
"Not sure." Shaking his head, Mordin started going through possibilities. Out loud. "Current vids uninteresting. Elcor Hamlet, perhaps? No, too long, will be dead before end. Borrow something from Shepard? Human military history not a personal interest, but could be educational." Not noticing Joker rolling his eyes at that, Mordin continued. "Food, perhaps? Ah, yes, good idea. Have not eaten in awhile, throwing off metabolism. Likely reason for irritability. Human rations added benefit."
"Benefit?" Stunned, Joker couldn't help but ask the obvious. "You like Alliance rations?"
"Indeed," Mordin said, happily. He picked his pistol back up and stuck it to the hardpoint at his hip, letting it fold. "Aware that rations fail to meet typical human standards, of course. Would say the same thing about Salarian rations, but alien food more exotic, quality matters less." He paused to take a breath, mouth widening into a smile. "Particularly fond of Curry-flavored ration."
"Oh, good," Joker sighed. "Let's go get you one, then. One less I'll have to eat. Besides, the hole in the wall kind of scares me." Taking the time to look towards EDI first, Joker said, "Hey, EDI, nice job. Where'd you learn that error message?"
Popping up again, EDI answered, "It is based on an archaic system response, Jeff. The consensus among the crew seemed to be that pretending to be a VI would work best if I offered little more than frustration, beyond any help actually needed to fix the ship, of course."
"Agree," Mordin nodded. "Very convincing."
