Аннотация: Conversation with Ambassador Udina and Captain Anderson. Inspection of the ship by Spectrum technicians.
Chapter 13.1: a conversation with Ambassador Udina.
"Commander, this is outrageous!"
That was the first thing I heard from the mouth of our dear ambassador, as soon as I approached. Only common sense kept me from wanting to punch Udine in the face. And two heavy weapon boxes in his hands. "Harpoons" weigh a lot! It's outrageous for him! I've only talked to him three times, and I've already started to have a strong desire to simply poison him so that his brain doesn't eat! Damn it! The game image didn't even come close to conveying the essence of the real ambassador! And how do the advisers maintain regular communication with this person?
"Take everything to the ship's armory." I told the fighters, handing Rex boxes with sniper systems. "Darg, show him." I turned to Udina. "Ambassador, what angered you so much?"
"On what grounds are we not allowed to board the "Normandy"?"
"And on what basis should you be allowed to board a ship officially transferred by the command of the Alliance Aerospace Forces to the Special Corps as a personal ship of the current Spectrum Council?" I asked phlegmatically.
"You are a Spectrum man! I am as an ambassador of humanity..."
"You have no right to interfere in the work of the Council's Spectr." I said dryly.
"Commander Shepard!"
"The Udine Ambassador." My monotonous, boring tone made him squirm. "From the moment of my appointment as an operative of the Citadel's Special Tactical Intelligence Corps, I automatically withdraw from the ranks of the Alliance's Military Space Forces, as well as lose my citizenship of the Alliance of Systems and acquire international citizenship of Citadel Space until the end of my service as a Council Spectr."
I did not specify that the Spectrum loses its status only with life or in the case of a promotion. Moreover, cases of promotion are so rare that they are rather an exception to the rule. Nihlus could only recall three such examples offhand in the last seven hundred years.
"On what basis?"
"Based on the Citadel Council's Resolution on the Rights and Duties of operatives of the Citadel's Special Tactical Intelligence Corps dated 700 A.D." I said even more tersely and monotonously.
Garrus told me about this decree when we discussed the legal framework of the Citadel Space and the problems that I can expect from the native Alliance.
Now this information was very relevant. That's how the ambassador got twisted, but... surely he won't trample on the law of the state, to which the native Alliance has been treating for twenty years? So I think he won't trample on it, although he can set it up. So that I don't get carried away.
"The Shepard Spectr. Explain one thing to me." Captain Anderson's voice was clearly displeased.
"I'm listening to you, Captain."
"Why haven't Darg and Dylan arrived at their new duty station yet?"
"They have arrived at their new duty station: Sergeants Itor and Savier have been placed under my command by order of Admiral Hackett."
"On what basis?" The ambassador jumped up.
"Based on the request of the Council's Spectr, sent today to the department of the Special Corps."
"They are the military personnel of the Alliance!"
"For the entire time they work with me, they receive the status of freelance employees of the Special Corps with all their rights and responsibilities."
Garrus is a smartass. It was as if he had anticipated this conversation, and while we were riding in the elevator, he described to me in detail the legal nuances of the current status of my fighters, separately focusing on the laws governing the work and position in society of the reasonable, officially hired by the Spectr Council to work together. And this status sounds like a "freelance employee of the Citadel's Special Tactical Intelligence Corps," and it gives you a lot of rights.
"Do you have any other questions?"
"I don't have one, Specter," Captain Anderson chuckled.
The funny thing is, he didn't get mad at me at all. It seems that the ambassador has managed to get a lot of him during our work together, and he is watching our exchange with such pleasure. And he took the loss of two fighters quite calmly, as if he expected something like this from me.
"The ambassador?"
"Solve the issues of providing your ship through the military department." Udina informed me with displeasure, glaring at me with a hard stare.
Scared the ghoul with a fresh corpse, I swear. All the same, the provision of the "Norm" will go through the Special Corps, and not through the military department of the Alliance.
"The VKS command has handed you the lists." Udina handed me the datapad.
"What kind of lists?"
"It was decided to replace the Normandy's crew with a more experienced one."
Oh, oh... that's not good. I went over and picked up the datapad. One look at the faces and characteristics of those whom I was going to stuff onto the ship, and I felt sick. No, they're excellent specialists, I can't say anything, but... come on to the demons! It's enough that I have a wiretap on my ship!
"I am satisfied with the current crew."
Udina frowned and pursed his lips.
"The crew of "Normandy" was recruited from young specialists who had just recently completed their training."
"That's fine. You won't have to retrain them."
"Are you going to leave a disabled person in the pilot's seat?" Udina asked with displeasure.
"The Joker's illness does not affect his ability to control the ship in any way." I replied phlegmatically, glancing at the face of the bruiser, whom Udina was trying to put at the helm of "Normandy". "Are you suggesting that I replace a brilliant pilot with someone who is healthy but significantly inferior in level?"
"Your right, Shepard," the ambassador said with displeasure.
"Is there anything else you wanted, Ambassador?"
"That's all for now, Shepard."
"Good day, Ambassador, Captain."
The hint "get out of here" was understood, and the disgruntled former bosses left the berthing area. Turning the datapad over in my hands, I put it in my hip pocket and shifted my attention to the three sentients who were watching with interest.
"Do you need something?"
"Anatais Savis..."
"Just Anatais." The Turian interrupted him sharply.
"The head of the engineering brigade of the Special Corps," the Salarian introduced himself, glancing at his colleague with displeasure. "Spektr, we have been sent to help you with the transfer of the ship to the mooring area of the Special Corps." he spoke very slowly and clearly, as if he were chewing for an idiot, avoiding the tongue twister familiar to representatives of this species. "We need to make a list of works for the modernization and re-equipment of your ship."
"Fine. Please follow me."
We entered the airlock. The ship's VI announced the start of the disinfection procedure, and a thin glowing line ran across the floor - the only visual effect that made it possible to trace the movement of the radiators.
"We don't have time for a full-fledged inspection and refitting right now." I said. "We have to leave the Citadel within thirty hours."
"What is the priority?"
"The infirmary. The doctor has prepared lists of the equipment she needs."
"If there is no sophisticated and ultra-precise equipment, everything will be installed in six hours." The Turian with the blue clan markings assured me.
"That would be just fine." VI delighted us with the news that the disinfection procedure had been completed, and the door slid smoothly into the wall. "I want to warn you right away. This ship is a prototype."
"Excuse me?" The Salarian blinked in surprise. "Did you say a prototype?"
"Yes. "Normandy" is a prototype."
The three sentients looked at each other in surprise. Yes, yes, I know that flying on a prototype is a sophisticated way to fabulously kill myself along with the entire crew, but so far I can't officially get rid of this ship.
I took the Turian pilot, who introduced himself as Tarris, to the control room and handed him over to the Joker. Let them decide for themselves which of them will drive the "Norm" to a new parking spot. Jeff, for all his hiccups, understands perfectly well when you can shake your license, and when you need to show yourself as a professional of the highest class, which he is. And that's exactly the situation right now. A small tremor that pierced the ship showed that I was right: the frigate gently rolled away from the dock. The two pilots found a common language quickly.
The next one I visited was the engineering section. Adams took the appearance of the Turian colleague quite favorably and soon was already discussing some kind of ship's sores in a specific jargon in which only the prepositions were understandable and familiar.
"Anatais, please follow me." The Salarian distracted himself from the conversation of his colleagues and followed me, carefully examining the ship. The Salarian distracted himself from the conversation of his colleagues and followed me, carefully examining the ship. I have no idea what he noticed there, but I didn't notice any particular enthusiasm for the "Norm".
The same company was found in the infirmary: Darg and Dylan were chatting with Nihlus, Tali was sitting quietly on the sidelines, Garrus was typing something into a datapad. Rex was not in the infirmary. Our arrival cut short the conversations. The doctor looked out of the back room and looked at me questioningly.
"Special Corps technicians have arrived. Doctor, have you made lists of the equipment you need?"
"Made it up." Karin handed the Salarian a datapad.
The Salarian read the list, thought for a few moments, and gave:
"You can put it on. Not all. If you're leaving in a day. We won't have time to get synthesis units and a surgical complex."
"And the rest?"
"You can. We'll make it."
I looked at the doctor questioningly and got a nod of approval.
"Do what you can."
"You have a wounded man. We can't do any retrofitting. It is required to disassemble a part of the skin."