A/N: This one's inspired by a discussion on the official Mass Effect forums regarding things you wish you could say in the game. I've always wanted a chance to mouth off a little at a certain councillor...
13. The Things You Wish You Could Say
Commander Shepard stood, shoulders slumped in the Normandy's airlock, waiting impatiently as the decon system's white light terminated with extreme prejudice all of the nasty little bugs, viruses, pathogens and thorian creeper gunk that had ended up splashing her hardsuit from head to toe.
Given the ungodly amount of filth she was caked in, the decon system took roughly five times as long as usual. Or maybe it only felt that way to Shepard, who unceremoniously had yet another alien vision jammed into her mind, courtesy of the asari commando Shiala whom the shore party had found swallowed up by the Thorian, a perverse 'gift' from Saren to the gigantic plant...thing that had covered much of the world of Feros. That Saren, she told herself, what a character. Beware of turians bearing gifts, she thought with a wry smile. I'll have to share that one with Pressly.
Even with the Thorian dead, Shepard figured the surviving colonists would still need a very large amount of weed killer just to make sure the damn thing didn't sprout up somewhere else. Finally the VI decided that Shepard, Williams and Alenko weren't in any danger of exposing the crew to Thorian-itis and cycled open the inner airlock door.
Shepard turned to her squad-mates, "I'm heading to the comm room to brief the Council. Meet me there in ten for a debriefing." Alenko and Williams nodded and headed for the mess. Choosing to forego showering for the moment, Shepard made for the comm room and asked Joker to establish a link to the Council.
Soon enough, the amber-glowing holographic images of the Council appeared before her. Shepard hoped that her hardsuited appearance might force them to take the whole Saren situation a little more seriously. The asari councilor's eyes widened slightly but that was the extent of the their reaction.
"Commander Shepard," the gruff-voiced turian began, "Your helmsman forwarded us the report on Feros."
"Exo-geni should have informed us of the Thorian," the asari put in. Geez, d'ya think? Shepard thought but didn't say.
"It is a pity that the Thorian was destroyed; it would have been an interesting subject for study," the salarian opined.
This time, Shepard couldn't keep her mouth shut, replying with barely concealed contempt, "Exo-Geni tried to study it and look how that turned out." The turian's mandibles flicked slightly in irritation. But then again, thought the Spectre, his entire existence was probably focused on being irritated by things.
"Yes of course," the salarian went on, "the mission must always take priority. At least the colony was saved."
"Of course it was saved!" the turian said angrily, "Shepard would go to any lengths to save a human colony!"
Shepard's mouth fell open in shock. Did he just accuse her of saving a colony for reasons of race? "Being human had nothing to do with it!" she snapped, tossing back her hair in annoyance.
"Alright," she went on, feeling her temper mount, "Here's what you do," she pointed at the image of the turian, "Find me a turian colony under attack by geth, slavers, door to door salesmen or evangelical hanar, whatever and I'll go out and rescue them! How's that sound?"
"You would do well to remember your place, Shepard," the turian spat. The asari turned to him and seemed to be about to placate him. Yeah good luck with that, sister.
"Sometimes, I despair," Shepard went on, slumping into a seat in the comm room. "I truly do. If I had failed to save the colony, you'd be going nuts because of that. I save the colony and you flat out accuse me of being a racist, xenophobic jerk! Back home, we have a saying, He who lives in a glass house shouldn't throw stones, Councillor!"
Before any of them could reply, Shepard cut the connection. Feeling very tired all of a sudden, the Commander wished she could just tell the whole Council and Systems Alliance to kindly just stuff off and leave her be for a while.
Was that really too much to ask? Apparently so. Behind the lids of her closed eyes, as though tattooed upon them, there was an ever-growing list of 'assignments' she'd picked up since arriving on the Citadel - investigating Admiral Kahoku's missing recon team, investigating some odd biotic cult setup out in the boondocks of the Hawking Eta cluster, scanning keepers for a couple of scientists who, just to make things even more complicated, had to be persuaded not to whack each other, and the list just went on.
Assignments? More like fetch and carry quests. I'm beginning to feel like a character in one of those old RPG games that Finch loved so much. Ding! You have gained enough experience to level up!
Pulling herself to her feet, Shepard staggered into the Captain's cabin This was supposed to be Captain Anderson's gig. Wearily, feeling every one of her twenty-nine going on four hundred years, Shepard removed her hardsuit, dumping the parts by the bed and retreated beneath the blissful hot water of her own private shower. Ohhh baby she groaned to herself as her muscles began to unkink and she started to feel more her old self again.
Wrapping herself in a white terry towelling robe, the Spectre sat on her Captain Anderson's bed and opened an intercom line to the bridge. "Joker?"
"Ma'am?" the helmsman replied.
"Plot a course for the Citadel and alert me when we're thirty minutes out. Pressly?"
"Yes, ma'am?" her XO promptly answered.
"I'm going to catch some rack time. You have the conn. I'm not to be disturbed unless somebody shows up with a Death Star and threatens to nuke something. Are we clear?"
"Aye, aye, Ma'am. I have the conn," Pressly acknowledged, thankfully not bothering to ask what a Death Star was. She'd tried explaining it to Garrus and the turian had believed that the idea of a giant moon-sized battle-station packing a planet-destroying laser was the stuff of fantasy. Tell that to Sovereign.
Shepard awoke from her sleep a half-hour before her scheduled wake-up call and decided to be a very naughty girl and just lie in bed for another little while. Reaching across to the small bedside shelf, she picked up a small digital music player and scrolled through the lengthy track listing until she found what she was looking for. Then she turned up the volume of the surprisingly powerful speakers up to 11.
Soon enough, Shepard was belting out the chorus of Audioslave's Wide Awake, a song which, given the Council's apparent inability to register the true threat of the Reapers, felt quite apt.
Don't pull the sheet over my eyes
So I can sleep tonight
Despite what I've seen today
I find you guilty of the crime
Of sleeping at a time
When you should have been
Wide awake, wide awake
---
Once again, Shepard, Williams and Alenko stood in the airlock, suited up and packing enough firepower between them to fight a small war - which was pretty much what they were doing anyway. The airlock hissed open and, as she exited the ship onto the Citadel docking bay, the Commander spied a tall middle-aged man in a Systems Alliance naval officer uniform. With a sinking heart she noticed the rank insignia and recognised him as Rear Admiral Mikhailovich, a fellow so proudly xenophobic and Earth-first he managed to make Pressly look all warm and cuddly by comparison.
Shepard jerked upright as the Lieutenant saluted the Admiral, all but shouting "Ten HUT!" as he did so. Shepard saluted the Admiral, saying, "Commander Shepard, SSV Normandy."
"At ease," Mikhailovich said and the three crew fell into parade rest. The Admiral stood expectantly before them, reviewing them and the ship berthed behind them. Finally he spoke again, "You don't know who I am, do you Commander?"
Buddy, if you don't know who you are, what the hell hope do I have? Sir?
"Rear Admiral Mikhailovich, commander of the Sixty-Third Scout Flotilla. After shakedown, the Normandy was slated for my unit." The Admiral paused and went on, "Instead the Council got its paws, claws, tentacles, whatever on it and you."
Somehow I think you're more concerned about the ship than me, Shepard's increasingly undiplomatic mind whispered.
Mikhailovich went on, "I don't begrudge the Alliance's decision to throw you to the Council, it's an opportunity. I do begrudge this over-designed piece of tin!"
He did not just call the Normandy 'over-designed!'
"Sir, with respect, the Normandy is a fine ship and she's served us well so far." If an observer elects to overlook Alenko's epilepsy-inducing control panel and the slowest elevator in creation.
"I'm here to make an inspection, Commander," the Admiral declared. "And make sure this vessel is up to snuff."
Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.
"Please do, Admiral," Shepard managed to answer, "We'd be proud to show her to you."
"I'll just bet," Mikhailovich ground out, "Wait here, I won't be long."
It wasn't until after the Rear Admiral had disappeared through the airlock that the Commander realised she should have requested that Wrex, Garrus, Tali and Liara find a place to hide from the notoriously pro-human Mikhailovich. "I just hope he doesn't say something to piss off Wrex or I'll have to explain how an Admiral came to be reduced to a few scraps of meat on my watch."
"I think Wrex can contain himself, Ma'am," Alenko said, giving the krogan far too much credit in Williams' opinion.
"Uh, LT, could be you're thinking of a different krogan."
Before either superior officer could reply, the airlock cycled open and Mikhailovich re-emerged, looking even more put out than before, which was exactly the kind of perverse miracle Shepard had hoped not to see.
"I've completed my inspection, Commander and I am not happy."
Shepard's mouth replied, quite independent of her brain, "Seems to be a fair bit of that going around."
Mikhailovich's eyes all but bugged from his face, "You would do well to remember who you're addressing, Lieutenant Commander!" he barked, emphasising Shepard's junior rank. She felt her hackles rise in response. It was only a matter of time before she was bumped up a rank to full Commander, heck, Captain even. Captain Shepard...had a ring to it.
"My apologies, sir," she brown-nosed. "The stress of my current assignment is taking a toll on me," Yeah, let him think it's incipient PTSD, he'll love that. "It won't happen again." Yeah, right.
For the next several minutes, Mikhailovich detailed, exhaustively, all of the things that were, in his view, wrong with the Normandy.
The position of the commanding officer aft of the crew.
The horrendous cost of the element zero core yet he completely ignores the broken (it must be) elevator or the flickery control panel. Forget L2 implants, it's that control panel that gives Alenko migraines.
And finally the 'aliens' on the crew "Asari? Turians? Commander, what were you thinking?"
"Well, they wanted to help me track down Saren and nail his ass to the nearest wall and I thought we could use the extra help."
Lieutenant Alenko and Gunnery Chief Williams stood still as statues, trying not to attract the Admiral's attention. Alenko was afraid that Shepard had cracked, why else would she smart-mouthing an Admiral?
Mikhailovich's eyes grew round as saucers as Shepard continued blithely on, "And don't forget the quarian we got in the engine room. Oh and the krogan. And a funny thing happened the other day...we found half of a missing Brazilian soccer team stuck way up in the Andes mountains after their plane crashed. They'd run out of food and were busy cannibalising each other. We rescued them and put them to work swabbing the decks. Admiral, the the decks have never been cleaner! You could eat off the decks. Hell, I can see my reflection in the decks! Granted, I can see a few strands of grey hair and I'm not even thirty yet but, like I said before, stress. Forget combat, Admiral, it's the stress that'll kill you."
All through Shepard's diatribe, delivered through constantly grinning lips, the Admiral struggled to maintain his composure. If she weren't a Spectre he'd have busted her back down to Serviceman First Class and transferred her to his own ship to serve out the rest of her career as his personal shoe-shine girl. Instead, all he did was grind out, "Are you smart-assing me, Shepard?"
Shepard smiled widely, feeling her face ache. "Me?" she said, all wide-eyed innocence, "Smart mouth an Admiral? No sir!"
A/N: I may keep on updating Normandy Lives as more ideas come to me. We'll see.