This chapter went together really fast. Probably because it's really short.

I guess this is kind of sketch comedy?

9: Spectre for Hire

Aleks

"Well, at least we're moving," I muttered as the Normandy began the relay approach run.

"Relay abort!" Shepard shouted suddenly.

"Relay abort aye!" Joker acknowledged. I felt a sickening lurch as the ship turned not quite a hundred and eighty degrees and the engines fired at full.

"What the bloody hell was that?" I blurted out before I stopped myself. "I thought we were going to Feros?"

"Joker, set course and dock with the Citadel," Shepard ordered.

She turned to me and shrugged. "I changed my mind. I want to do some sidequests on the Citadel first."

Sandra

"Hey, isn't it a little odd that Shepard took everyone with her?" I ask as we stroll through the wards. "Including Melia, Joker, Engineer Adams, Navigator Pressly, and the janitor?"

"Excuse me, Commander Shepard, could I have a moment of your-"

Before anyone can react, Shepard shouts, "I've had enough of your snide insinuations!" and punches the reporter in the face.

"Shepard!" I shout. "That's the good reporter!"

"You bitch!" Emily Wong shouts, clutching her bleeding nose.

"Oh, shit, really?" Shepard says, extending an arm to help the reporter to her feet.

"Yeah, that's Emily Wong," Aleks explains. "She's like, completely badass. Even crashes a news van into a Reaper. The one you're supposed to punch in the face is Khalisah bin ceenan... Calissa ben seeing... the bitchy reporter."

"Really?"

"Yeah, she's a total bitch," Aleks continues. "You like, try to explain in a perfectly reasonable way what you're trying to do. Then she calls you out as a traitor and, well, most of the time you punch her in the face. I mean, I always did, anyway."

Shepard apologizes profusely. "God, I am so sorry. I really thought you were the reporter I was supposed to punch. Look, here, I'll try to make it up to you."

She pulls a disc out of her pocket (wherever that is) and gives it to Emily. "Here, I found this mixtape in Fist's office. You can have it."

Emily plugs it into her omni-tool and her eyes light up in surprise. "Hey, this isn't a mixtape, it's criminal records! Thanks, Commander!"

"Sure, whatever," Shepard dismisses. "I have my own mixtape anyway."

As we leave, Kevin asks, "Does it bother anyone else that they still call it a mixtape in the future?"

Kevin

As we leave the consort's office with our reward money, I say to the others, "Seriously, I don't get it. What's with all these odd, ostensibly hilarious statements with no context?"

"You mean the consort jokes?" Jason asks.

"Those were jokes?"

"Yes, they were jokes. At the consort's expense. She is, how can I put this nicely... a woman of the street," Aleks explains.

"Pretty sure she's not homeless," I reply. With what she's charging... and that busy... provided it's not a sales tactic- no. "No, she's definitely fairly well off."

"No, not a homeless lady, a woman of the street," Sandra says. "Like, you know, a working girl."

"If you call that working," I reply. "It's not like they do much there."

"She's an escort," Melia says.

"I seriously doubt that. Not intimidating enough." Then again, there are those less conspicuous services, like the all-female one in Russia. "Could be a less conspicuous option, I suppose."

"No, not that kind of escort. She's a hustler," Ash says.

"I don't think what she's doing is technically a scam," I refute. Then again, if you make a ton of money doing basically nothing. "Maybe immoral and unethical, but probably not illegal."

"She's lady of the evening," Kaidan says, sighing.

"Well, no doubt she's fancy, but I fail to see how that explains any of the jokes," I reply.

"Look, she's a harlot," Shepard says.

"A vagabond or beggar?" I ask rhetorically, raising an eyebrow. "Maybe a criminal, but like I said probably doesn't actually break the law, and totally swimming in cash."

"She's a whore, damn it!" Jason snaps.

"What?"

"She's basically a fancy hooker," Jason explains. "Woman of the street, working girl, escort, hustler, lady of the evening, those are all words that mean prostitute."

"Ohhhhhhh..."

Jason

"Commander Shepard? My name is Samesh Bhatia. Forgive the intrusion, but I have nowhere else to turn."

I wait for Shepard to respond, but she doesn't. The Indian guy just continues. "My wife was a Marine. She was in the 212 on Eden Prime."

Beside me, the Chief shifts uncomfortably. I whisper, "You okay, Chief?"

She replies quickly, a little too quickly, "Yeah. I'm fine."

She is not. Losing her entire unit hit her hard.

No shit. I've been there- well, not quite. Shut up, voice in my head.

Suspending...

"I've requested that my wife's body be returned to me for cremation, but the military has refused my request."

"What?" Chief Williams exclaims. "They can't do that!"

"Technically, Chief, they can," Lieutenant Alenko tells her.

"The man in charge of my case is Mr. Bosker. When I last saw him, he was in that expensive bar over there," he says, pointing.

"Of course he was," I mutter.

The Chief is already gone. I run after her. "Chief, what the hell are you doing?"

I almost walk into the door before I remember the control panel and I manage to get the door open and get through without falling over. Chief Williams has Bosker by the neck and she's holding him a foot off the ground.

"-think that just because she died in a slightly different way, you can carve her up like a turkey? After fighting for the Alliance, this is what..."

Not gonna lie, I'm enjoying this way more than I should be, given the circumstances.

She outranks you significantly. And she's from the future.

Since when were you my relationship coach? And I thought you suspended?

I lied.

"Stand down, Williams!" Shepard orders, bursting into the room.

Chief Williams hesitates before letting go of Bosker. "Yes, ma'am."

The slimy bastard (I can tell, total scumbag) glared at Shepard. "As I was saying before your rather rude subordinate interrupted me, Serviceman Nirali Bhatia's wounds were inconsistent with any type of weapon damage we've seen before."

"Keep talking," Shepard snaps.

"Respectfully, Serviceman Bhatia may save more lives in death than she did in life. The tests we wish to conduct may lead to better defenses against Geth attacks."

"He does have a point," Aleks mentions.

"Surely you can't be serious?" Sandra asks.

"I'm serious, and don't call me Shirley," Aleks replies. "Look, I know this looks bad, but maybe she-"

"Dead servicemembers deserve proper burials," I say. "No exceptions."

"What about dishonorably-"

"No. We're not debating ethics," Chief Williams snaps. "Nirali deserves to be buried properly, not have some sick medical experiments performed on her."

"But those experiments could actually-" Kevin protests.

"No." I give the Chief a slight nod. "What you're doing is pissing on everyone in the Alliance. You have zero respect and if it was up to me I'd break your scrawny neck."

"You can't do that!" Bosker protests.

"You're right, I can't," I pretend to concede. "But we just passed a reporter on our way here. Let's say I go tell her everything that happened here. People just love hearing about Marines getting screwed over by the government. The Alliance is going to have to do something to save face. Guess who's gonna be the fall guy?"

"Okay, okay, you've made your point!" Bosker replies, raising his hands in the air. "I'll release the body."

"Thank you," I reply, in a tone that's hopefully sarcastic. I turn and leave.

"Hey," Chief Williams says to me. "Thanks."

I nod back. "No problem, Chief."

That was actually pretty creative, what you did back there.

I'm only mostly a dumb Marine, you know.

Oh, I know everything about you. I'm in your head, you know.

That's kind of creepy, Cortana.

What? My name is not Cortana.

Then you don't know everything.

Suspending...

Aleks

"This one believes it has the right to walk freely through this area."

"You're creating a public disturbance!" the turian C-Sec constable retorted irritatedly. "It's against Citadel regulations!"

"Ah, let me guess, hanar preaching about the Enkindlers without a license," I said to no one in particular.

"No," the C-Sec constable corrected. "He's trying to sell cold-aide without a license."

"You need a license to sell cold-aide?" Kevin asked from behind me.

"Well, yes," the constable told us. "It's regulated. Anyone can purchase a permit and register to sell cold-aide in designated areas. There are certain restrictions that come with the license. Refusing to follow those restrictions results in the forfeiture of the license."

"I'm sorry, I'm really not following," I replied.

"That hanar refuses to listen to reason!" the constable repeated. "There are laws! It refuses to act in an orderly and lawful manner!"

"It? That's kind of racist, isn't it?" I mentioned.

"They kind of ask for it by saying 'this one' and that kind of stuff," Kevin said, shrugging.

"It can't listen to reason because it's a big, stupid jellyfish!" Shepard said to the constable, surprising us. After a pregnant pause, she added, "All racist jokes aside, is it actually breaking any laws."

"I am not unreasonable," the constable continued. "The hanar is free to sell its cold-aide once it purchases an appropriate permit."

"If you'd like, I can talk to the hanar for you," Shepard offered.

"I've argued with the stubborn jelly all afternoon. You are certainly welcome to try."

"Do you desire to purchase cold-aide?" the hanar asked as Shepard approached him... her... okay, it. "Or has the honourable C-Sec officer enlisted assistance?"

"Is this really how you want to represent Caffit Foods?" Shepard challenged.

"The taste of the drink must be made available! It gives the hanar energy, and the universe refreshment," the hanar exclaimed... I guess. "This one only wishes to make the beverage available to all. There is no intent to cause trouble."

"Okay, this is stretching it pretty far," I commented. Nobody noticed.

"Is this really how you want-"

"Look, just buy the damn license, you cheap bastard!" I shouted, frustrated with all this nonsense.

"This one cannot afford to-"

"How much profit do you make on each cup?" I ask, interrupting.

"Thirty credits."

"And how much does a license cost?"

"Three hundred credits."

I shouted back, "That's ten cups of sales! Jesus Christ on a pikestaff! How long have you been able to afford a license?"

The hanar hesitated before answering. "Three months."

"And how long have you been selling."

Another pause. "Three months and one day."

"Just buy the license so we can end this quest, get our experience points and get on with our journey!" I shouted at the hanar. "Look, I don't mean to bring your race into it, but you really are a big stupid jellyfish!"

I turned on my heel and walked away. Shepard muttered something to the constable and the hanar before following.

"Is this rage thing going to become a regular thing?" she asked me.

I shrugged. "Probably. Seems to work quite well, doesn't it?"