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The ship exited the stage with a noticeable and already familiar jolt, shaking the entire hull. The Normandy has arrived at the Hawk system. It's a three-hour flight to Vermaer.
"Captain, we're out of relay." The Joker's calm voice rang out.
"Turn on the camouflage system and approach Vermire." I replied. "Are there any signs of the Lord's presence?"
"Not at all."
"Get into orbit." I turned to the surprisingly quiet and accommodating people on the command deck. "Take a picture of the surface on the coast of the Astika Sea. From this moment until our return, to remain completely silent."
There is a blissful silence in response. Not a single peep, not even an unnecessary glance. Everyone has their faces buried in terminals and is plowing for the benefit of their dear superiors. Me. Pressley stands almost at attention. After taking a look at the tense crowd, I left, giving them the opportunity to relax a little and get to work without looking at my person. That's what a warning, properly understood and communicated to them in an accessible form, does to people. All I had to do was make it clear that I wasn't joking for a moment when I honestly warned: one word of slander or any attempt to bully the special forces soldiers, and whoever did it would fly out the airlock to row home on their own.
Two days ago
A bright rage bordering on bloody rage pulled me out of a mental trance, tearing me away from my hard work. Who's in such a good mood? Nihlus? No... Garrus? Exactly. Damn it, did someone say something again? Yes, as much as you can! Are they completely fucked up there?
"Joker, what just happened?"
There was a brief moment of silence, and the pilot's apprehensive voice answered:
"Rin... You need to see for yourself..."
Damn them...
"I'll take a look. Where?"
"Canteen."
Thanking the pilot, I got up and, swaying slightly with fatigue, trudged into the dining room. The wave of emotions grew, colored by interesting details. By the time I entered the room I was looking for, the atmosphere there was stormy.
The doors swung open without a sound. I went into the dining room, having managed to hear the end of the sentence:
"...knows what you're doing there."
Oh, how interesting... I was noticed almost instantly. The people shut up, and I looked at this composition: an enraged Garrus, whose hand was trembling dangerously close to the pistol he had always carried with him lately, and a group of seven guys from the operators of the navigation and sensor complex. The axis of the Turian's rage was Addison Chase.
"What. Here. Is it happening?" I asked in a measured voice, typing every word.
A minute of silence. Garrus tries to calm down, even though his fingers are getting closer and closer to the hilt.
"Garrus, get your hand off the gun." The guy flinched, but took his hand away. "I know that you will have time to shoot them before they come out of their stupor. But this is my crew..." The Turian shuddered, and the people relaxed, "and I will train them." — now the guys tensed up, and the Turian chuckled. "Since they didn't learn anything at the Academy."
Only a deaf person would not have heard the threat in my voice. Garrus nodded in agreement, crossed his arms over his chest, making it look like he was washing his hands. That's lovely.
"I'm asking for the last time. What. Here. happened?"
"Captain, we disagree with yours... a fighter." Chase informed me, very emphatically singling out "fighter" in an extremely obscene voice.
"I raised an eyebrow. A small-grass bastard..."
"That's how? And in what opinion did you disagree with the Council's Spectr, Garrus Vakarian?"
"Oh, why are you so emotional? Didn't you know, boys?"
Of course they didn't! It's a surprise, isn't it? Garrus snorted.
"The spectr of Advice?" asked the tall man, who had been watching the whole conflict from behind the distribution table.
"Taks Carlton, if my sclerosis doesn't let me down."
"Unexpected, isn't it?" the guys recoiled from my kind look. "Don't make me repeat the question and answer it in detail, otherwise I will find out the answer from the Joker. And I'll get it, won't I?"
"Undoubtedly, Captain!" Jeff replied immediately.
"I'm listening to you very carefully."
"We... they doubted... in..." the guy swallowed, but he couldn't tell me the gossip.
I caught the fierce light blue gaze, easily reading the vivid last memory, and anger took my breath away. Is that what it means? How amazing are the things that can be done under a long-suffering all-terrain vehicle...
"Joker, record the rest of the conversation."
"Yes, Captain."
I turned my gaze to the people who had turned pale.
"Have you been warned to whom you are being placed at the disposal of this ship?" I asked the question dispassionately, feeling my fingers tremble, and the tips tingle from the energy concentrating on them.
There were simultaneous nods in response.
"Answer me!"
"Yes, ma'am."
"What do you mean, "Yes, ma'am"? Are you unable to answer a simple question?"
"you, Spectr Shepard." they barked simultaneously in seven sips.
How sweet... It would be better if they were doing their work with the same enthusiasm, and not poisoning my nerves.
"Do you know who the Spectr are?"
"Special Tactical Intelligence Corps operatives, ma'am!"
"Do you know what rights we have?"
"Unlimited, ma'am!"
"Do you know what tasks the Council Spectr's solve?"
"Tasks that threaten the peace and stability of the Galaxy, ma'am!"
"Fine... At least something was hammered into your heads during the briefing." I chuckled, staring at the seven idiots. "There are THREE active members of the Spectr's Cansil on board the Normandy, performing the same task. Anyone sane and reasonable, using their head for its intended purpose, could have guessed that this task has an EXTREMELY high priority, since they sent not one Spectre, as usual, but three."
People exchanged glances.
"And knowing this, are you deliberately violating my orders, sabotaging our mission, and distracting me from my tedious, exhausting, and extremely painstaking work by spreading dirty gossip, provoking conflicts with my colleagues and members of my group? You're jeopardizing our mission."
These idiots squinted at my haggard face and the circles under my eyes and... flashed with outright fear.
"I'm sorry, ma'am... We didn't know."
"You weren't supposed to know." The temperature of my voice was rapidly approaching cosmic. "You must do your job on board this ship in silence and not interfere with our work!"
In response — understanding, fear, close to panic. And not a shadow of remorse. How sweet...
"Did I warn you, what would be the consequences if I heard even one more idle gossip or provocation of racial conflict?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"Did I warn you not to bully my colleagues and special forces soldiers?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
"It's great that you all knew everything. Have I warned you, what will be the punishment for those who do not heed my warnings?"
"Yes, ma'am..."
But now there was a full awareness and understanding of the situation on their faces. And — fear. No, it's not like that. Horror. Didn't you believe it? And completely... for nothing.
It wasn't difficult or troublesome for me to take control of the seven sentients. Blocking their vocal cords, I silently left the dining room, followed by twitching bodies, frantically shuffling their legs and gushing with panic. Nihlus came out to this intensity of emotions, watching the execution with interest. Everyone was watching with interest: the crew members, the XO, the Joker. Passing by Pressley, who was about to open his mouth, I shut him up with one look. I must have had an expressive face, because not a single sound came out.
The first airlock door opened with a barely audible hiss. I pushed seven idiots in. The door slid back into place.
"Joker, start the airlock depressurization process according to the E-189 protocol."
"Captain?" the pilot asked, still unable to believe the order he had given.
"Don't make me repeat myself."
"Yes... captain."
People were shocked to see the depressurization process according to the protocol I set. It's a slow, nerve-racking process. The E-189 protocol involved pumping out air, opening the outer flap of the airlock and blowing out the contents. It takes about twenty seconds if you open the outer flap. If you don't open it, the air just drains out. The latter option is used when the ship is moving between relays, when it is not recommended to violate the integrity of the hull. That's how it is now.
I let go of control of the seven people, but the massive door completely muffled the sounds. But the camera in the airlock allowed everyone to watch as the air was drained, as panicked people began to suffocate, and as they sank lifelessly onto the metal floor.
"The Joker. Abort the protocol. Open the internal gateway."
"Yes, Captain." the pilot sighed with relief.
You shouldn't be happy. Technically, they're dead. If Karin doesn't pump it out, they'll die completely, and there's not much time. I looked around at the numb sentients and coldly explained:
"The protocol will not be interrupted next time."
After examining the silent people and motionless bodies that were already being taken out of the airlock, I turned around and went to the infirmary. I hope this warning is understood correctly, otherwise next time I really won't stop the depressurization procedure. And it will happen much faster and without unnecessary special effects according to the standard protocol, where the doors open almost instantly, and all the excess from the airlock chamber is swept into space at a pressure drop.
When I returned to the infirmary, Karin was already conjuring over the bodies of idiots.
"You're adding to my work." she said with a slight hint of displeasure.
I shrugged my shoulders.
"In an amicable way, they should have just been thrown into space. But you should not open the external gateway during the transfer unless absolutely necessary."
Karin gave me a hard look.
"I can't say that I support such drastic methods. I'm a doctor. My job is to save lives. There are enough people on this ship who take them away." The doctor sighed. "But I can't help but admit it. The situation has gone too far. People relaxed without feeling the hard hand. You're almost constantly absent, disappearing into the infirmary or your cabin. There are young people in the crew. You are a young and beautiful woman, Irene. They don't see you as a direct guide and don't understand that you can be dangerous and cruel."
"I noticed that. They've also heard enough of the Alliance's propaganda and are ready to prove to everyone and everyone how great and cool people are." I shook my head wearily. "And this is despite the fact that humanity entered the galactic arena barely thirty years ago."
"You spend a lot of time in the company of non-humans. Especially the Turians. They don't like it."
Karin's slight smile made it clear to me that my relationship with Nihlus and Garrus was no secret to the doctor. I shrugged my shoulders.
"My personal preferences are my personal preferences. And I am deeply indifferent to the trampled feelings of those who are not part of mine... at least the middle circle. But someone forgot that Turians are raised a little differently. For Garrus and Nihlus, the words "honor" and "dignity" are not empty words. Do you understand HOW it could all end?"
"The massacre."
"Exactly. And no one in the entire Citadel would have convicted them of murder. Even without looking at the status of the Spectr."
"This could cause a conflict with the Alliance."
"Karin, what kind of conflict are we talking about?" I grimaced. "The Alliance will never decide on a direct armed conflict. If the Council hadn't vetoed the invasion, the Hierarchy would have split up the Alliance and bombed humanity into the Stone Age, despite all the heroism of some people. They only have a regular fleet seven times bigger. This is not counting the fact that war is natural for Turians and is an integral part of the culture."
"Irene, this generation grew up with stories about the First Contact War."
"To call a War with a capital letter an ordinary two-month border skirmish in which six hundred and twenty-three people died is at least... strange. I snorted. — Yes, during the explosion of ships over inhabited planets and exposure to the zero element, hundreds of times more died. Just some kids. And people did it. So we shouldn't talk about the value of human life, since we don't value it ourselves."
Karin couldn't find anything to object.
"Logic and common sense are not always characteristic of young people."
"I noticed that they don't have brains." I shook my head, watching Karin work. "You know that I'm considered a sick scumbag in the service, right? Such a human version of Saren Arterius in a feminine manner."
"I heard." Karin replied, without even turning her head, bending over the body, which was still not showing signs of life.
"Karin. I am an orphan who grew up on the streets of the megacities of the Earth, and I don't really like people. No problem. There's nothing keeping me in the Alliance. Generally. The command knows this very well, but I have never given any reason to doubt my loyalty to my immediate commander."
"And now?" Karian was distracted and looked up at me intently.
"And now it's the Citadel Council. The Alliance voluntarily gave me over for its own political reasons. I am excluded from the list of military personnel."
"And?"
"I am loyal to my immediate superiors." I replied dryly, staring intently into Karin's widened eyes.
"The Citadel Council?"
"Yes. My loyalty now belongs to them."
Karin looked at me in shock. Is that unexpected? But this is understandable to any reasonable person who knows what my recipient was like. Irene was really loyal to her superiors... and every time it changed, her loyalty was transferred to a new object. The last one was Captain Anderson.
"And you don't have any attachments in the Alliance?" I looked skeptically at this seemingly intelligent woman.
"No."
"I did not know."
I shrugged my shoulders. The ruthlessness of the original Irene had a very specific and simple explanation: indifference. She was deeply indifferent to the opinions and lives of those around her, except for a very narrow circle of reasonable people, which included her immediate commander, her squad, and, partially, her direct entourage like the ship's crew. It wasn't cruelty. Simple efficiency and complete indifference. The task must be completed at all costs. Point. That's all the interests of this beautiful red-haired girl. A perfect example of the social adaptation of an orphan with a difficult childhood, who grew up on the streets and joined the army at the age of eighteen out of desperation. And then the psyche broke down completely, giving birth to such a lovely creature.
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