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Lt. Cmdr. Adara Moore lay on her back, helmet off, squinting up into the sky. It was just barely light enough that she could still trace the outline of the Reaper some distance off. Reaper ground forces had swept through less than an hour ago, which Adara figured gave her and her squad another two hours before they had to move. That was, of course, assuming the Reapers didn’t change up their sweeps, which they did do from time to time. But for the moment, that wasn’t what was bothering her. Idly, she traced the Reaper’s outline with her finger, wondering. Then she nudged the man lying next to her.
“Hey, Evans,” she said softly. “What did you say your mom used to kill head lice?”
He shot her an odd look. “Mayonnaise. It’s greasy, they choke on it. Why?”
Adara choked on a laugh. “Mayonnaise.”
Evans propped himself up on an elbow and stared down at her in a mix of confusion and concern. “Moore, I don’t think I like where this is going. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
“Reapers,” she answered, still grinning ear to ear. “Reapers are like space lice.”
He grunted. “You spot a two-kilometer killing machine on the horizon, and you think, hey! Let’s drown it in a condiment?”
She shrugged. “Any potential advantage we can find, right? That’s what Captain Walters asked for. Who knows? Maybe it’ll be a War of the Worlds scenario, and we find the one thing on Earth that kills our enemy?”
“We’re not on Earth,” Evans answered sourly, “and if you think you’re gonna get away with taking all the mayo that just got shipped to the Fifth Fleet, then I am definitely gonna write you up for misappropriation of Alliance resources. I am not gonna eat dry sandwiches so you can sauce a Reaper.”
“So eat ‘em with mustard,” she answered with a shrug.
He sat up, his expression suddenly a little more panicked. “You’re serious?”
She grinned in reply, said, “Do what you gotta do.”
~~~
[Official write-up:
Name: Moore, Adara
Rank: Lieutenant Commander
Offense: Misappropriation of Alliance resources
Detail: Lt. Cmdr. Moore acquired roughly 20 gallons of mayonnaise, loaded it into a small cargo hauler, and evacuated the cargo hold over a Reaper.
Recommendation: Psychiatric evaluation and reassignment.
Reported by: Lt. Evans, Jason.]
~~~
As far as write-ups went, Admiral Hackett had to admit it was one of the stranger ones he’d ever read. He’d met Lt. Cmdr. Moore a handful of times before, had fought with her grandfather, Silas Breckenridge many years before. He’d never gotten the impression of insanity off her before, but this was… irregular, to say the least. After a moment’s consideration, he opened a com channel to the CO of the Cairo, Captain Anthony Walters. Walters was, as always, prompt in his response.
“Admiral. Something I can do for you?”
“I’d like some clarification on something that’s just crossed my desk, Captain,” Hackett answered. He’d barely uttered Moore’s name before Walters was stifling laughter.
“She’s not insane, sir. I can guarantee that. She’s merely a fan of old science fiction. I’m afraid this is… somewhat my fault, really.”
“Your fault?” Hackett echoed.
“I challenged my crew to think of outside-the-box ways of dealing with the Reapers. Moore is the first one to suggest something that far outside the box, however.”
Outside the box was putting it mildly, Hackett thought, but he had to know more. “What was her reasoning?”
At that, Walters did chuckle. “Shall I send her over to you, Admiral? Some things, I think you’re better hearing from the source.”
With a sigh, Hackett agreed.
~~~
She arrived less than ten minutes later, stood at attention, and saluted. Hackett watched her for a moment, then dropped his eyes to the write-up he’d received. “LC, have a seat.”
She sat, watching him with a polite, attentive gaze, and a slight sparkle in her eye. She knew why she was here, and that she had the support of her captain. That made it a little easier, Hackett supposed.
“LC, please describe your actions of four hours ago,” he said, nodding to his assistant to begin taking notes.
“Fifth Fleet had just taken a new supply shipment, sir,” Moore answered promptly. “I collected one element of that order, and-”
“Be specific, Lt. Commander,” he interrupted. “Which element did you co-opt?”
“Mayonnaise, sir. About twenty gallons.” Beside him, his assistant coughed to cover a laugh.
He ignored it. “Proceed.”
“With some assistance, I loaded the… condiment into a cargo ship. And ah… flew down to the planet’s surface, toward the Reaper that’s landed down there.”
“You’re a marine, Moore,” he said. “Are you certified to fly?”
She nodded. “Yes, sir. I made N7 just before the Reapers attacked.”
He knew that basic flight training was included in the N2 certification, and let that slide. “The Reaper saw you coming, I presume.”
Again, she nodded. “Yes, sir,” she agreed. “I dodged a couple shots to get directly over it. After that… it wasn’t in much of a position to retaliate.”
His eyebrows raised. “Because?”
This time, it was Moore who coughed to cover a laugh. “Its optics were covered in mayonnaise, sir.”
“So to clarify,” Hackett said, “you co-opted twenty gallons of mayonnaise, performed a fly-over of a Reaper, and unloaded your cargo over its eyes.” He smiled; this situation was entirely too ridiculous not to. Moore followed suit, and Hackett’s assistant was about doubled over in silent laughter as she continued to take notes.
“Yes, sir,” Moore agreed.
“Why?”
She coughed again. “Reapers… are like space lice, sir.”
His assistant laughed out loud. Hackett leaned forward. “Was it effective?”
“Hard to say, sir,” Moore answered. “The Reaper hasn’t… heh… hasn’t cleaned itself off yet. All we can state as yet is they won’t fire blind.”
“Which is why you’re still alive, Commander,” Hackett said. “You’re a good marine. I’d hate to lose you over a stunt with so little chance for visible success. Don’t do this again.”
She nodded sharply. “No, sir.”
He leaned back. “One final question. Why did Lt. Evans report you for misappropriation of Alliance resources?”
Moore laughed. “He doesn’t like mustard, sir.”
Hackett smiled. “Heathen.” He signaled to his assistant to stop taking notes, nodded to Moore. “Dismissed, Commander.”
She rose, saluted. “Sir.”