“Sign it.”
A man stood in front of me — the one in charge of supplies for the Normandy.
He wanted me to sign documents confirming he had equipped the ship, or rather the ground team, with everything necessary.
“No.”
“I said sign it!”
“No.”
I was completely calm, while my counterpart was slowly boiling over.
“Captain, I’m ordering you!”
“Go fuck yourself!”
I couldn’t help it — this conversation was wearing me out.
That outburst drew the attention of every dock worker in the vicinity.
A few turians stared at me with disapproval.
Well, of course — I’m just a captain, and standing before me is a supply corps colonel, and I’m telling him to fuck off.
“Is that how you speak to a superior officer?!
I’ll —”
“Go fuck yourself!
According to the inventory, what’s supposed to be here?
An M35 Mako!
Where the fuck is that goddamn Mako?!
I’m asking you, where?!
Why isn’t it in the cargo hold, and why should I sign for it?!
I’m asking you, you fucking staff rat!”
Biotics flared around me as I took a couple of steps forward.
The colonel took a couple of steps back.
“By regulation, I’m supposed to have an assault platoon!
A platoon — that’s ten to thirty people!
Where the hell did you find even ten people for the ground team?!
There are THREE of them!
And three includes me!”
The colonel opened his mouth to say something, but I didn’t let him, continuing to yell without caring who heard.
Better to air the dirty laundry, as they say, than end up in the shit they’re trying to drown me in.
Besides, I know exactly what’s waiting for me.
“Where’s the armor?!
Why was the ground team issued only old standard armor?!
Fine, whatever, but according to your fucking documents, it’s listed as EMU armor, and for your pickled brain, I’ll spell it out!
E — Enhanced!
M — Modified!
U — Universal!
Where in that junk did you see EMU?!”
“Captain…”
Anderson’s voice came from behind me.
“Captain Anderson, sir.”
I snapped to attention and saluted.
We’re the same rank, sure, but I’m an N7 — basically special forces — while Anderson is a fleet captain, which is a bit different.
If you compare it to ground forces, he’s basically a colonel.
And right now, he’s the ship’s captain, while I’m his executive officer.
“What’s all the shouting about?”
“Sir, this batarian vomit spawn wants me to sign an acceptance certificate when ninety percent of what’s listed on it isn’t here.
Smells like sabotage, maybe even treason…”
The colonel winced.
“So why shout?
Don’t sign it, end of story.”
“I’m not signing it, but this asshole keeps pushing, pulling rank, threatening me.
So I lost it.
He actually thinks his rank scares me.”
“Listen, Colonel…
we’re not signing any of this.”
“But —”
“When the ground team and everything else on the list actually shows up, then we’ll sign.
Until then…”
Anderson spread his hands.
“…and yeah, just so you know, this conversation is now public record, and I’ll be filing a report stating exactly what happened.”
“Do whatever you want!
I don’t have any of it anyway!”
He gave a mocking smirk.
“Well, if you don’t have it, you don’t have it…”
I shrugged.
“…sir…”
I turned slightly toward Anderson.
“…I suggest we ask our turian colleagues for help.
Those militaristic assholes always keep extra supplies on hand.
I doubt they’d pass up a chance to show up our quartermasters.
Sure, they won’t give us new models or a ground team, but they could probably find an armored vehicle.”
“Hmm…”
“Don’t you dare!
It’ll be a disgrace!”
The colonel was practically frothing at the mouth.
“Like we give a shit?”
Anderson and I asked that in unison.
“Fine, I’ll find you that Mako!
I’ll find it!
But not right now!
Right now it’s just a test flight anyway, and —”
“Listen, you don’t seem to understand something…”
I took a few steps toward the colonel and, without winding up but charging my muscles with biotics, hit him square in the gut.
He doubled over.
“…we’re not civilians, where you can say ‘I’ll do it later’ and probably nothing serious will happen.
We’re in the fucking military!
I’ll leave the Citadel, get an order saying a distress signal was received, course and destination changed, and what the fuck am I supposed to do without a ground team, a Mako, armor, or weapons?!
Should I give command the same answer you’re giving me?!
‘I’ll fly there later’?!”
“I —”
“Shut up, you logistics rat!”
A short punch as he started straightening up, and he was doubled over again.
“So here’s how it is, you trembling shit.
We launch in two hours.
That means in one hour, I need a Mako delivered, plus the ground team with armor and weapons.
If not, I’m canceling the launch.”
“Shepard!”
Anderson raised his voice.
“Captain, I understand everything, but heading into God knows what kind of mission — one they’re hiding from me but apparently requires a Spectre on board — with an incomplete ground team?
I didn’t survive this long just to die pointlessly now.
Of course, you can say we’re going anyway, but then you’re going without me.”
“Shepard…”
Anderson’s voice carried displeasure.
“No, really, what?”
I looked at him in surprise.
“I’ve long since served my time.
I’m on contract now.
Breaking the contract is unpleasant, sure, but I have enough funds to cover the penalties.”
I shrugged casually.
“No, seriously, I’m sick of it.
Every new assignment, not only do I have to buy my own gear out of pocket because apparently it’s ‘not authorized’…
but I have to buy gear for my subordinates too.
Why do I keep having to play scavenger — selling pirate weapons just to buy proper rations and equipment?”
“Shepard…”
Anderson’s voice was growing tired.
“Captain, I respect you…”
I looked him straight in the eye.
“…a lot.
And if just one thing from that list were missing, I might have argued but still signed that fucking document.
But not when I’m not even given the bare minimum!
My ground team has two people!
Two!
We have a fucking Spectre on board!
And those office rats just wave it off — ‘Oh, we’ll embarrass ourselves in front of the turian Spectre, so what?!’ Is that it?!”
“Shepard.”
Steel crept into Anderson’s voice.
“Sir?”
“Sign it.”
“No, sir!
If you want to, sign it yourself.
But I won’t hesitate to file a report on you.
More than that — the moment you sign it, I’m disembarking.”
Anderson frowned.
And I honestly didn’t care whether I kept serving in the Alliance or not.
I had enough income, thanks to my dead father — may his eternal rest be paved with broken glass and boiling oil.
He’d caused so much trouble that I’d only finished cleaning it up a couple of years ago.
Well, “cleaned it up” someone helped me clean it up, which put me in debt to a very questionable person.
At least that person already has everything they want, and I, along with the corporation I inherited, am more like an amusing pet or useful but not irreplaceable property.
“Fine!
I have three more people for the ground team!
But that’s it!
I don’t have the regulation ten!”
“And where are they?
And the armor, weapons, Mako?”
“No Mako, and there won’t be.
Weapons and armor are standard only.
This is the Citadel, not an Alliance military depot that has everything!
Plus a little extra just because!”
The colonel clearly wasn’t lying.
“Screw it…
But I’m not signing that I received everything.
So the report will state exactly what wasn’t issued.”
“Fine, screw you!”
“Excuse me…”
A turian approached our group.
“…I overheard you’re having some supply issues?”
“Yes, sir…”
I nodded, noting the rank insignia on his armor.
He was roughly my rank, and he hadn’t done anything wrong yet, so I decided not to take out my anger on him for “eavesdropping” on a deliberately loud conversation.
After all, I’d made it loud so people would hear.
“Well…
if your quartermaster signs a couple of documents, we can transfer an old Grum to you.
It’s been in preservation since the incident at Relay 314, and it’s scheduled for decommissioning, but…”
“That old junk?”
The colonel looked at the turian in confusion.
“Sign it.”
I looked at the colonel, who was staring at me in confusion.
“But —”
“Sign it.
The Grum is an armored transport — not new, sure, but we don’t even have that right now.
Besides, turians have always been known for reliable military hardware, so I’m more than confident that transport is in excellent condition.”
The colonel hesitantly took the documents from the turian, read them, signed them, and twenty minutes later the armored transport was delivered.
It might come in handy, or it might not.
Though, considering canon, it definitely will.
Sure, canon got by without it, but as the isekai types say: trust in canon, but keep a six-barreled machine gun and ten times the ammo for it.
At least, that’s what I say, and it’s the only reason I’m still alive.
Another twenty minutes later, three women in Alliance armor arrived.
I met them at the airlock to the ship.
“Sir, here are the documents.”
A redhead stepped forward and handed me the documents.
My eyes nearly popped out.
“Shepard?”
“Yes, sir!”
She snapped to attention.
“Namesakes, then…”
I said this with some thoughtfulness.
“…and with you, Orimura and Li.
What got you kicked out of the fleet?”
“Sir, our former commander tried to use his position to get us into bed, sir!
We broke his legs and tore off his dick, sir!”
Shepard stood at attention.
“Hmm…
strip.”
The girl’s eyes flashed dangerously.
She barely flinched but held herself.
“Sir, permission to ask a clarifying question?”
“You already asked one, but I’m feeling generous today, so I’ll allow one more.”
“Strip like a stripper or like a soldier?”
“Like a soldier.
We don’t have much time.”
Without another word, she started undressing right there in the docks, in full view of everyone.
And I should mention — I was getting some very unfriendly looks.
“O-o-o-kay, stand down.”
She froze after removing the upper part of her armor, which fell at her feet, and she’d already grabbed her under-suit.
“Good girl.
You passed the test.
You follow orders, you ask questions only when necessary — you’ll do.
I hope your friends are the same?”
“Yes, sir!”
“Excellent.
Get dressed and get on board.
Don’t go far — we’re heading straight to the cargo hold.
You’ll meet the rest of the so-called ground team.”
“Yes, sir!”
She straightened up, grabbed the armor pieces she’d taken off, and hurried onto the ship.
Her subordinates followed, giving me complicated looks.
Though the hatred that had appeared when I ordered Jane to strip was gone.
“So…”
I checked the documents and nodded thoughtfully.
“…looks like everything for my department is loaded — at least everything I could squeeze out of those assholes running the Alliance warehouses.
As usual…”
I winced.
“…some stuff I bought myself.
Doesn’t matter — once we’re on combat missions, I’ll recoup the costs.”
I massaged my earlobe thoughtfully.
“Well, I think I can head to the ship.
Pressly, can you handle the rest?
I need to sort out the ground team before launch.”
“Yes, sir…
and be careful, sir.
Those girls might not understand your approach.”
“I don’t need their understanding…”
I shrugged casually.
“…as long as they follow orders.
They can hate me all they want.
Because if they hate me, they’re alive…
and there’s someone to do the hating.”
I hurried onto the ship.
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