Printed from https://writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2248965-Mass-Effect-WG-Legendary-Edition/cid/3031652-Adjusting-to-life-on-the-Normady-and-its-lack-
Ashley slammed her glass down onto the bar. She was happy. Thrilled! Or at least, she supposed she should be.
The diplomat sitting a few seats down gathered up his datapad and scurried off. This bar was usually a quiet for lunch, but he knew better than to hang around a pissed off marine, even on the Presidium.
A posting on The Normandy! With the first human Spectre! Any way you sliced it, this was an honor.
She took another sip of tequila. She'd come here to celebrate. Why couldn't she enjoy the moment?
Maybe it was because she'd had to work ten times as hard as anyone else to get where she was.
It didn't matter that she'd aced every command assessment and field exercise, she still graduated at the bottom of her class. It didn't matter that she had a spotless record of colonial service, having garrisoned just about everything you could land a dropship on.
The "Williams Curse" was merciless, and it had kept her busting her ass in bullshit assignments for her entire career to date. So perhaps it was simply a matter of "too little, too late." She might have had her own command by now if she'd been a nobody. You're fucking welcome, Alliance.
Or perhaps, it was the weight of Eden Prime.
Getting a "promotion" by being the only one left alive.
She drained her drink and motioned to the bartender for another.
No way out but forward. She'd give those flashlights hell, and obliterate the Williams Curse along the way. This would be her last drink before castoff. No need to give the Commander any reason to doubt her. Hell, she'd even hit the embassy gym one last time for good measure. Maybe sweat out a bit of this frustration. Or at least the tequila...
Printed from https://writing.com/main/interactive-story/item_id/2248965-Mass-Effect-WG-Legendary-Edition/cid/3031652-Adjusting-to-life-on-the-Normady-and-its-lack-
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