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Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams sighed and drummed her fingers on the steering yoke. Citadel traffic was usually busy but nothing like this. The Normandy had docked over two hours ago, but Citadel air traffic control had dicked them around for most of the first hour, demanding that all the i's be dotted and the t's crossed. Then securing a car for the Commander's use proved problematic, the Alliance Navy pukes painfully slow on the draw today.
Then, finally, they were ready to be off. It wasn't the first time that Ashley had volunteered to be the Commander's personal diver while on the Citadel; he'd tried to talk her out of it the first time. And while she didn't push her argument as far as insubordination, she did point out that during their chase for the rogue Spectre Saren the Commander had been pushing himself too far. He didn't argue too hard and thankfully didn't make it an order.
After the second time volunteering herself as the Commander's personal driver, without anyone knowing that it was job that Needed Doing, XO Presley had taken her aside upon their return and asked her just what her motivations were. After making a career of carefully choosing her words to officers, Ashley went with the version that she'd shared with Commander Shepard.
"Sir, the Commander is running himself ragged on this chase. If we're not finding clues about Saren then we're helping the Alliance with secret missions, the Citadel councilor's with secret missions, pulling people aside with all sorts of secret missions. There are times when we come across derelict ships and we end up attacked from God only knows what inside. Not only is the Commander running this ship, he's also leading the shore parties and engaging in combat every other trip. If this little thing can help ease his load, even if its just driving a car to and from meetings, then it's something I'm happy to do."
The XO had listened to her without interruption (odd for an officer) and pursed his lips when she'd finished. "Just as long as you understand that this is at the Commander's whim," he finally answered. "If he says stop-"
"It'll be dropped faster than he can talk, sir," Ashley finished. She thought she'd gotten off rather light, perhaps because the XO had the same concerns she did. If that was the case, then was it possible that some officers could actually think ahead? Wonder of wonders. And ever since then, whenever the Normandy docked at the Citadel, Ashley would requisition an Alliance aircar and be standing beside it in her best Service Uniform before the Commander could even disembark.
A quiet sigh beside her brought Ashley back to reality. She glanced over at the man in the other seat and felt a little flutter in her chest. Nobody had asked, but she had a somewhat more personal reason for doing this job: her family history. Even after the skipper had found out about who she really was and just which Williams clan she belonged to, he hadn't done as most officers and blackballed her from duty. He hadn't pulled her from the shore party roster nor did he throw her off the ship altogether and back into garrison duty. He was letting her abilities speak more than the history around her last name. He was letting her prove all the naysayers about her wrong after years of garbage. He was trusting her.
And how could she not repay that effort with a little extra work?
And so, she sat in the middle of the mother of all traffic jams, tugged at her collar and gave a silent prayer of thanks for air conditioning being one of those things that was universal to all species. In her mind's eye, she imagined honking horns and swearing cab drivers instead of humming eezo cores and whining mass effect fields. She saw steam rising from a city grate and irate voices and music blaring over the radio stations-
Yay! Traffic shuffled forward a few inches before halting again. Ashley grit her teeth, tapped one spit-shined shoe restlessly, and bit back a rude comment. Seriously, what was the point of a flying car if traffic was still limited to fixed routes? She took another glance over at her passenger and wondered how anyone could make a Spectre late like that.
Then it happened. That small, innocuous thing that would make headlines in certain circles and make a reputation in other circles: the skipper sighed louder and spoke up, "I hate being stuck in traffic."
Ashley looked over at him, then suppressed a grin and threw the car into gear and stomped on the accelerator. The car leaped into motion and acceleration pressed the passengers back into their seats. Horns honked all around them.
Seeing an opening between two cargo vehicles, Ashley muscled the yoke into cooperating and squeezed the car in between the larger ones and paused for a moment to take her bearings. There was a squelched grunt from her passenger, whom had just opened his mouth to say something when she made her move and pulled the car up and over the cargo trucks and cut off another aircar to the side before dashing back into the lions den of traffic. The salarian driver shouted something rude at her as she sped off.
"Ashley. Ash. Ash? What's going on, Ash? What are you doing, Ash?" the skipper called out as she drove, but Ashley risked insubordination by not answering and instead found a pocket of faster-moving traffic that she could use.
So what if it was going in the other direction?
"Hey!" her passenger cried out, but Ashley didn't answer him. Fast driving was hard work, don't you know? Instead she weaved in and out of Citadel traffic, ignoring honks and horns and spiteful drivers whom were all no doubt jealous of her progress while they stayed stuck. Ah ha, down there. Ashley pulled a sharp ninety degree corner and shot down a little-used side street, the base of the car only a few short metres above the shanty shops.
Apparently deciding that conversation wasn't going to help, the Commander just settled for gripping the arms of his seat with a white-knuckle death grip. He must've seen the wall of traffic they were approaching at the same time she did, since he asked, "How do you hold on in the Mako?"
"Wide-finger grip, around the padding," Ashley replied before zipping back into traffic and found herself almost pressed against a turian's rear fender. She saw the skipper increase his death grip out of the corner of her eye and let herself grin. Her humour was short-lived since she didn't see much of a way out of the crawling traffic, and that was when her boss seemed to decide that enough was enough.
"Okay Ashley you've had your fun for now but don't you think it's time to stop this and gooooooo-!" the last part came out in a breath of air as she spotted an opening and drove for it like her life depended on it.
And technically her commanding officer hadn't told her to stop, so she wasn't violating direct orders. Technically. Which is a good thing, since her chosen opening happened to be an open-air restaurant.
Patrons scrambled for safety as she zipped through, tables and chairs knocked over and linen soiled in a way that no washing would ever get clean. Her grin stretched wider. "Ash. Ash. Ash! Dammit, are you aiming for these people?!"
"No!" -smash, crash, topple- "Well, maybe that volus...". Aimed or not, the waddling alien was able to get out of her way before she ran him down. He should be thankful for her efforts, honestly.
Finally the Presidium loomed ahead and Ashley made one last gravity-defying turn before whipping the car into a sharp turn and slammed on the decelerator. The car spun, wavered, then slid sideways on its repulsive field before coming to a halt between two other parked cars with scant centimetres to spare. Ashley leaned out the window, craned her neck fore and aft, and gauged just how well she'd done. "Like a glove!" she triumphantly crowed, then checked the car's clock. Hah! On time for the skipper's meeting!
She glanced over at the Commander, who seemed oddly still in the face. He didn't move. He didn't even twitch a muscle. "Are we there?" his voice was soft, even.
"Aye, sir," Ashley responded then opened her door, scurried around to the other side, and opened his door for him. Finally showing signs of life, the Spectre got to his feet and almost seemed ready to fall to his knees and kiss the ground before coming to his senses. He glanced over at her and looked like he was struggling to say something. Anything. After a few moments with nothing coming out of his mouth, he just turned and walked into the Presidium for his meeting.
Ashley stood by the car, looked around, and wished she hadn't given up smoking since she badly wanted to light up a smoke and drag on it while leaning on the fender of her car; that'd look badass.
Instead she just assumed parade rest, checked her uniform to make sure her creases were still perfectly pressed, and waited for the inevitable C-Sec blues to show up. And waited. And waited more. She had to wait for quite a while before the first patrol cars came up and slammed down on the ground in front of her car, boxing her in. Garrus would've been proud to point out every single inefficiency in their operation. The first officer to ground his car, a turian, dove out and pointed his weapon towards Ashley. She didn't twitch an eyelash. As soon as he got some backup he shouted out, "Freeze! Don't move!"
Ashley merely lifted a brow and glanced around at her inert car, deciding that such a stupid statement didn't need any response. The officers didn't quite seem to know how to respond to that, or their heads were just too thick to even get her joke, and they just sort of waited and looked at each other. The deadlock was broken by a human coming up, a C-Sec lieutenant by his rank insignia, and walked towards her.
"My name's Bailey. Care to tell me what this is all about?"
"Spectre business," Ashley replied, her voice flat and without humour. A heroic feat, that last part.
"Spectre business?" the human echoed and Ashley wondered just what minimum IQ requirements C-Sec actually had. "What kind of Spectre business?"
"The kind that says I'm to drive, so I drove," she went on. Seriously, didn't anyone at C-Sec get the memo that said Spectres could do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted? Apparently Bailey wasn't quite willing to let it rest at that.
"And what could possibly have warranted this?" he demanded, waving an arm behind him to indicate all the traffic behind them. All the slow-moving traffic behind them, she noted. She brought herself back to Bailey, who was continuing to talk, "- and furthermore, just what made you think that this was alright? Who could be that important?"
Ashley bristled at the statement. Too far! "Now you just wait a second! Who was that important? The man who survived the horrors of Akuze, that's who! The first human Spectre! The man leading the chase against the most dangerous villain in the galaxy right now!" she snapped back into Bailey's face. Just who did this traitorous flatfoot think he was? What kind of peon like him could even dare question the needs of a god?
Instead of continuing her rant, Ashley took a deep calming breath, thought of a clear blue ocean, and then exhaled. "Listen," she softened, trying to be diplomatic. Guns are better, but diplomacy can work too. "If you have doubts, just call to the security inside and get them to ask the Spectre what's going on." The cop didn't look convinced. Ashley tried for a smile that probably came across more like a maniacal grin. "It's a simple call to fix all of this and get us all back to our day."
The C-Sec officer scowled but finally nodded at one of the turians behind him. The alien tapped his ear and made the call. The whole group fidgeted impatiently while the question was asked. Finally the turian stepped forward. "She's right, sir. There's a verified Spectre inside who's taking responsibility for this mess," he shot Ashley a dark look which she relished with pride. "He's giving us direct orders to leave the area and go back to work."
The assembled cops all glared darkly at Ashley. She beamed with inner pride but somehow managed to hold her tongue. No point in gloating to lesser mortals. Bailey seemed to be grinding his teeth, but she could tell it was more a show for his men than any real anger. Finally signaling his men to pack up and leave, he turned back to Ashley one last time but decided to just drop the whole thing. Smart man, she approved.
The cops cleared out in record time, maybe they were late for their lunch break or something, but before long Ashley was alone with the car again. Instead of standing any longer, she spun on her heel and marched into the building.
Her military ID got her through the lobby and as far as the closed door of the meeting room. She nodded at the Marine rating on guard duty before taking up a similar post on the other side of the door, again at perfect parade rest and settled in to wait as long as the skipper would need her to. She was perfectly content to be there for days if needed, if that's what he'd ask of her.
While keeping her attention on the people milling about the hallway, Ashley cast her mind back to the altercation with the C-Sec lieutenant. So she lost her temper a bit, big deal. And it's not like she lied or told an untruth in any way, even if she enjoyed being blunt in her statements.
She had to deal with the fact that her mouth ran away from her for a bit. It was a bad habit that had gotten her into more trouble than she cared to admit. Basic Training had helped her to clamp down on it, but when pushed... And she was right to rip a strip off of those useless flatfoots. Commander Shepard was infinitely more important than any sort of traffic or doughnut break or whatever.
Her musings were interrupted by the door opening and the Skipper walking out. Before the door closed, Ashley could hear the distinctively nasal voice of Councilor Udina and she repressed a shudder. She'd rather deal with live rounds flying over her head than any meeting with him. Commander Shepard nodded at her and she fell into step behind him, her heels clicking on the hard floor. They sounded oddly doom-like and she wondered if she'd pushed her luck too far. Spectre's may be above the law, but people have memories and can hold grudges.
There was silence until they got back to the car and seated in their usual spots. The silence stretched out to pregnant lengths before the Commander spoke, and it was in a quiet voice that rang loudly in Ash's ears.
“That will never happen again. As inconvenient as traffic can be, that was an abuse of my Spectre status and I seriously debated about throwing you to the wolves.”
Ashley swallowed a sudden lump in her throat. “I understand, sir. It'll never happen again.”
Silence claimed the car again, before the man seated beside her spoke. “Besides, it's not like I was racing to talk with Udina. That man can wait for as long as traffic will hold me.”
Ash glanced over and felt her chest flutter again. A small, nervous smile tugged at her lips and she turned the engine on. “Aye-aye, sir,” she promised, her voice cracking with emotion. Okay, maybe his trust in her wasn't the only reason she felt the butterflies around him.
“On that note, where did you learn to drive like that?” The Skipper held the armrests as she pulled out into traffic, but there was no repeat of her earlier antics.
“You, sir. When you drive the Mako.”
“Nonsense! I'm a perfectly safe driver!”
“If you insist, sir. But you at least have a yoke to hold onto. The rest of us have to make do with whatever we can find.”
“I bet if I asked Garrus, he'd agree with me!” Shepard protested, clearly not willing to accept his role in the hourly vomit-sessions that is riding in the Mako.
“Garrus is a turian and has wholly different biology. Besides, he's trying to impress you too much to complain.”
“Tali, will support me.”
“Tali is too young to really understand what smooth driving is all about, sir. Plus the Flotilla technology occasionally breaks down, gravity first. She told me.”
“Wrex, then.”
“Wrex thinks you mean it as a masculine challenge, and doesn't want to be shown up by a simple human.”
“Kaiden. He'll agree with me!”
The conversation lasted all the way back to the Normandy.