Blow
Thank you, readers and reviewers. You guys are awesome!
Have I really been writing on this thing for Two Years? D: what is this I don't even… Bioware, what have you done to me?
XD
The bridge was still damned hot even though the sensor read-outs said the Normandy had returned to optimal temperatures. Optimal for turians maybe, Joker thought, irritated. He'd long since put his hat in his lap and gotten rid of his shirt, but at least his hair was no longer dripping with perspiration. His armpits felt disgusting, his hair was stuck to his head, his crotch itched, and his BDUs were still partially moist from sweating so much. He felt like someone had dipped him in sugar water and let him air dry. The sticky sensation just wouldn't go away. Or the smell. At least everyone else smelled, too. A bunch of malodorous humans were almost as bad as a pack of elcor having a conversation. Were it just him, he would have made a bee-line for the showers, Vrolik's syndrome be damned.I can smell me. It was fucking embarrassing.
God, I need to bathe.
And that would be just, oh, so fun. The idea of slipping on slick tile, breaking a bone and puncturing a lung or something made him shudder involuntarily.
His fingers glided over the bridge controls. "Betty, interface with Engineering." Yet another window opened.
Its designation was actually Normandy Virtual Intelligence Suite and the turian designers hadn't bothered to give it an acronym. Fuckers. Just as soon as the thing had started talking to him in dry-dock, Joker had nicknamed it Betty Bitchbox. The name stuck. No one had told him that the VI was programmed with an initial voice designation override prior to sitting his ass at the helmsman's station. Oops. The turian engineers in dry-dock had been ever so overjoyed. He had especially loved it when the head engineer and lead designer of the system had warbled and hissed curses in his direction. How was he supposed to know it would take all but an act of God to reprogram the thing once overridden? Engineering marvel, my ass.
"Interface established," the VI said. Its female voice was designed to be soothing. Humans responded better to the female voice (something about moms and shit that Joker didn't really give a rat's ass about) rather than a male – much to the chagrin of the turian designers, whose society didn't seem to be bothered by gender differences. Of course, if the turian engineer had been any example of the female of the species, he didn't want anything to do with them. He had enough problems with the females of his own species.
Seriously. Say one damn thing wrong, and it's all, "Oh my God, Joker. Like, fuck you, you fucker. Oh my God, you're such an ass. Like, I'm never talking to you again. Oh my God. Like, ew." How the fuck was I supposed to know? I'm not a fucking mind reader. Jeezus.
For a human-turian joint venture, Joker took great pleasure knowing that the thing spoke with an asari accent. No human speaking the standard human language, Frenglish, could imitate the asari accents – which didn't bother him at all. Asari were all sexy and shit. They practically purred when they spoke, and their bodies… damn. All exotic and curvy. And blue. Mm.
That didn't mean he hated the VI any less when he had to give the computer verbal commands. He despised interacting with it, but he already had too many windows open running systems checks, calibrations, and diagnostics and was in the middle of a system override on the pitot-static system – because that would be just awesome were that system to fail as we climb through atmo—and he only had so many hands and fingers.
Like to see Munzarová, Teodros, or Kawabata do this shit. Watch the cripple multi-task and get shit done properly.
Fuckers.
He studied the image on the vid screen from Engineering in between rerouting a lost connection between the altimeter and pitot. The screen was dark, but it seemed to move indistinctly, like the cam was on but the feedback was in a loop or someone's hand was covering the cam.
The hell? I'm in the middle of a fucking manual override! Can't this piece of- "Betty, confirm interface." He didn't have time for this shit.
Tali's voice overrode Betty's. "What can I do for you, Bridge?" Her voice sounded very far away. Or her head was trapped in a can. Her suit's sound filters were usually better. He blamed the cam and its mic. There had to be something wrong with it. Of course. Everything is going fucking wrong today. It's "Let's Piss Joker Off Day."
Tearing his eyes away from the read-outs, Joker cocked his head to the side studying the vid display. Were they having system failure on the comm down there? The image shifted again. Then it dawned on him. The cam was zoomed in on the quarian's ass. His irritation and annoyance quickly dissolved. So many responses popped into his head, but he cleared his throat before any came out of his mouth. He ogled her a second or two with a grin on his face before answering her question.
"Please tell me you're routing more cool air up here."
"We're doing the best we can, Joker," she told him. Whatever she was doing caused her wiggle a little. It was all he could do to maintain a modicum of decency and not giggle like some kid watching a nudie stim for the first time.
The mouth plate on Tali's mask filled the screen. "Keelah, I didn't realize—" The screen shifted as she fiddled with the controls. The cam zoomed out.
"Better?" she asked as the screen zeroed in on her chest.
Joker blinked. "Much."
Hendricks cleared her throat and Joker glanced at the red head. Her green-eyed glare was enough to peel paint right off the hull. The hell is her problem?
"Well," he amended – not because Beck thought he was being a deviant; no, it was the decent thing to do—"only if you want us looking at your cleavage."
"My, my what?" she squeaked. The vid shifted again, tumultuous-like this time, before it zoomed out on Tali and the panel behind her. Wires leaked out behind her like the panel had a tummy ache and vomited them out in Engineering.
"Air," Joker said. "It's still too hot on the bridge. Are the air filters on? It stinks up here."
"Joker, that's the hair on your upper lip," Hendricks told him none too sweetly. He shot her a glare.
The doctor shrieked when the kinetic field dropped her – her thin arms flailing. Her gloved hand caught Garrus in the mouth as Kaidan reached out and grabbed her, his hands fitting easily around her lithe waist. Whether it was instinctual or not, she coiled her thin arms around his neck – were it not for his armor, he felt certain the asari would have choked him.
"You're safe, Dr. T'Soni," he assured, concerned about her head wound and the purple blood streaking the side of her face and knowing pressing up against a hardsuit was uncomfortable as hell. "I've got you. You're safe."
Dr. T'Soni blinked, seemingly coming to her senses and he took a moment to marvel at her. Seeing one of the exotic aliens on a vid or even on the Citadel had been one thing – and, yeah, there were the odd issue of Fornax here and there – but to be this close…
She had an earthy, musky scent that held a hint of sulfur and iron. Were he not just this side of overcoming his pain meds, he probably wouldn't have noticed. His sense of smell didn't bother him unless he had a migraine or was on the verge of one.
Her skin was pale blue like someone had airbrushed the sky onto her. What had he thought had been glitter on her full face and head were tiny iridescent scales that were denser on the folds of her scalp. There were darker blue-black scales across the bridge of her nose and her cheeks – like human freckles. Huh. The scales formed two lines, like human eyebrows, across her brow.
Her eyes were the same blue of her skin, wild and bright with tears.
"You're real!" she cried and hugged him harder. "By the Goddess, you're real!"
He nodded. "Yes, ma'am."
"How did you get in here?"
"Mining laser," Shepard supplied. "We drilled through."
Kaidan looked helplessly at the Commander. There was no real way to pry the doctor off without hurting her. Physics threshold mods weren't for touching unarmored civilians.
Shepard's eyebrow was raised, cooling disapproving. Williams was scowling. Kaidan doubted the doctor's level of hysteria could be faked. They would have to wait and see first.
"Let me have a look at that wound, Dr. T'Soni," he tried. She pulled away quickly, her eyes darting to and fro.
"Wound?" She looked down at her hands, turning them over. They were small, willowy and encased in gloves. "But I'm not –"
"Do you know a way out of here?" Williams cut her off.
Dr. T'Soni nodded, blinked when she became disoriented. She took a step back and Kaidan put a hand as gently as he could on her arm. "There is an elevator back that way," she said, steadied, pointed back the way they had come in with the mining laser. "At least, I think it's an elevator. I have never activated it."
"One way to find out," Shepard said, glance back and meeting the asari's gaze. "Can you walk?"
"Yes."
Shepard nodded. "Good. As the old vids say, 'Let's blow this joint.'"
A rumble echoed through the structure and cave system, shaking it at its core. They all ended up on the ground.
"I didn't mean it literally," Shepard complained as she surged back to her feet, a wince on her face from her injured shoulder.
The doctor looked around. "That laser either caused a seismic event or Santorini Mons just blew. That one was the worst one yet."
"Join the Marines. Meet exotic aliens." Ash quipped as they hurried toward the elevator. "Get blown up by random acts of God."
"If I die in here, I'm killing you all," Wrex grunted.
Betty Bitchbox: Taken from the aviator slang Bitchin Betty, which is the computer-generated female voice heard over the earpiece when something isn't right. (Usually caused by unsafe flight conditions or an enemy threat.)
Also: I think I've missed some review alerts since my alerts were going to a different email address. (now fixed!) I usually try to send a response back and currently don't know who I've responded to and who I haven't. I hope I haven't discouraged anyone from leaving a comment by seeming rude.