The Crucible Project: A Recipe For Disaster

By PariahPrime

AN: Alright, first fic ever. Of all time. Depending on the responses and my mood, I might add on more chapters or revise. Be nice.

Disclaimer: You know the drill everybody: the Mass Effect franchise ain't mine. Nothing here but another crack-fic, nothing in it of which is scientifically or militarily accurate. Shout out to 'Nuclear Bacon' and 'Sudentor' for inspiring me to write this. Go read their posts and say thank you to them.

Enjoy,

PariahPrime

Chapter 1: 50 Rules

Admiral Hackett was not having a good day.

With the Reaper Invasion and Cerberus, the same could be said for every other sapient species in the galaxy, and if not for Commander Shepard flying about with her motley, they'd all be up the creek by now.

Admiral Hackett, while not on the front-lines, was undergoing his own monumental task of overseeing a variety of races who (supposedly) consisted of the greatest minds and Engineers to build a giant super-weapon that would supposedly destroy the reapers, while making sure they didn't kill each other in the process.

His desk was constantly bombarded with complaints of krogans beating up salarians, asari causing distractions, little rachni workers being stepped on, scientist getting into fistfights, quarians throwing up in their helmets, geth displaying attitudes, etc. It was like babysitting a bunch of children. Some of which were much bigger, stronger, and older than himself.

Today, he was currently in his office indulging himself with a glass of brandy, attempting to clear his head and not have an aneurysm. His comm rang. With a sign he downed what remained in his glass and stashed the bottle in his desk, before hitting the comm button, allowing his yeomen, Ms. Jasmine Taylor, to hurry in.

"Sir. There's been an incident in engineering deck 4." Being well aware of the stress the Admiral was under (as well as the signs that he had been drinking) and really hated to be the bearer of more bad and setbacks, but this was one of those issues that needed to be addressed.

"Of course there is." He muttered getting up (a little unsteadily, she noted). He took the data pad she offered and began reading. Ms. Taylor nervously watched as his face went through a series of expressions. First confusion, then disbelief, then disgust, then greater disbelief, then even greater disgust, and finally outrage. Lowered the pad in an extraordinary feat of self control, he took several deep breaths.

"Miss Taylor. I need you to write a memo, and have it post where all can see. This has gone on long enough."

"Yes, sir. Right away." She said, activating her omni-tool, but not without a felling of foreboding as Hackett began to dictate.

There were all manner of species who were on their off-shifts eating and milling about in the West Mess-Hall when the holo-announcement board changed to display a memo, which was indicated to be read ASAP. Everybody crowded around.

"With mild curiosity; what does it say?"

"Out of my way, puny creatures."

"Can't *hurrsk* see anything over his *hurrsk* hum."

*This one most humbly asked the others to share the space so this one can view the important message*

Finally, A salarian up front decided to take charge and just read the memo out-loud. Everybody settled down as he began to read:

1) Any offensive bodily functions can no longer be blamed on the nearest geth at hand.

2) The distillation of ryncol is now strictly forbidden. We're trying to keep explosions and radiation poisoning to a minimum, and we need what little rocket-fuel we have for the ships.

3) Use of the labs' laser-cooling systems for making ice cream is now strictly forbidden. That's expensive equipment, and it's costly and time consuming to clean up.

4) Referring to any of the volus personal with derogatory terms (i.e.- stumpy, wheezy, piss-breather, etc.) will not be tolerated.

5) Saying that it's 'for science' isn't a valid justification for performing experiments that may be considered 'ethically questionable' and unrelated to the main project. Last week's 'deadly-neurotoxin' and 'exploding-lemons' incidents fell into the categories of both the former and latter.

6) Rachni: Stop drinking from the toilets. All other personal: stop leaving the toilets unflushed.

7) All krogans personal are now banned from any food preparation areas. Last week's beef burgundy(?) nearly caused a hull breach in decks 4-through-6.

8) Turians: Stop beating people senseless with sticks who offend you. It's counter productive and in poor conduct (where the hell are you guys getting those thing any...you know what? I don't want to know).

9) Asari: Although you're technically mono-gendered, please use the women's showers to wash-up. All male personal: stop telling the asari that they're free to share the men's showers.

10) Starship Troopers and The Terminator Movies are now band. The rachni find the former outright offensive and the later is giving the quarians nightmares.

11) Krogans: Hanar legs are not for snacking on. Yes, they have six of them, but their removal from their persons still hurts, and growing them back a huge inconvenience.

12) Everybody is to stop referring to, and treating, the elcor as 'beasts of burden.'

13) The dinning areas are NOT meant for sexual leaissance. Seriously people, that is where we eat, or in the case of the East Mess Hall incident; 'used' to eat.

14) Quarians: stop hazing the geth with the electromagnetic cranes. It's damaging the equipment and the Consensus is experiencing (with their new-founded sentience) what they can only conclude to be either 'mild annoyance' or 'being really pissed-off.'

15) Elcors; We all appreciation your use of theatrics to maintain moral during off shifts, but 'Ludwig Wittgenstein's Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus' is NOT a play. It's an Opus Magnus of such intellectual-magnitude that even the salarians are getting migraines, so please, no more.

16) Really people; We are working on what is possible the largest and most advanced weapon in galactic history. Referring to it as 'The Reaper-Killer-Thing'a-ma'-jig, The Giant-Dohicky-of-Doom, The Destructo-Whatcha'ma-call-it, or The Mecha-Cthulhu-Squid-Stomper-One-Bazillion' just doesn't do it any justice.

17) Physicists; getting into fistfights over what would happen if an 'irresistible-force meets with an unmovable-object' is just unacceptable.

18) Geth: Stop using classic television shows and movies as tools for learning appropriate organic behaviors. Even if the show does have robot characters that you can somehow relate to.

A loud synthetic belch could be heard as a geth holding a beer can muttered something about how the admiral could 'bite its shiny, metal ass,' while it scratched the said ass with its free hand.

19) For the last time people: there's no 'space-cow' wondering around and steeling people's hard-earned credits. It just isn't possible for a dumb pseudo-bovine with not technical skills and pockets to be hoarding electronic currency.

20) All personal are to stop abusing krogan vitality-enhancing substances. The medical staff has received so many cases of 'Explosive Genital-Hemorrhaging' (EGH) that it's now become an official medical condition (symptoms self-explanatory).

21) Krogans: Your attempt at the finer things in life is dually noted, but please refrain from reciting poetry to the other races. We're getting increasing reports of cerebral hemorrhaging.

22) I swear, if I hear ANYBODY say something that ends with 'in my pants' one more time...

"Bosh'tet!" cursed a quarian at the back, not paying attention to what was being said. "Where did I drop that damn screwdriver?"

"I got a screwdriver if you need one." Said a turian gazing at her rear. "In my..."

He stopped short of what he intended to say, as his body was suddenly painted all over with laser sniper dots.

"...Pocket." He finished weakly. The dots disappearing.

"Really? Thank you!" Said the quarian, happily turning around, not being the wiser of what transpired as the salarian upfront continued on.

23) Rachni are now banned from eating in the mess-halls. No offense, but we are not... used to regurgitation and re-consumption as a means of digesting solid foods.

24) Turians: saying that your 'in the middle of some calibrations' is no longer a valid excuse for procrastinating.

25) Everybody is to stop issuing 'self-contradictory statements' to the geth. That, and telling them to divide any number by zero.

"Twenty-six: This statement is false." Said the salarian, Instantly causing several geth to start spassing and shutting down, to reboot a few seconds later, causing everybody to laugh.

"Sorry. Just had to do that. But seriously, how come we didn't think about this when we where fighting you guys?" Asked the salarian.

The geth responded with their omni tools in expressing (with their newfound ability to experience) their displeasure:

:0 =( Troll! WTFM! FqU! 8== =( }=( }8 _

"...Right...moving on." Said the salarian turning back to the board clearing his throat.

26) All personal are to refrain from reacting violently to rachni workers that startle them. The Queen is not happy with her children being stomped on.

27) Rachni: the air-ducts and septic systems are NOT a means of moving and transportation throughout the ship. Your popping out of vent and toilets tends to scare people.

28) While the occasional prank is good for boosting moral, giving quarians 'dextro-ipecac' Is taking it too far. Saying it was 'for science' also makes it in violation of rule five.

29) While we're on the subject of dangerous pranks: If I ever find the redacted-for-brains-son-of-a-redacted that thought it would be funny to slip the krogans PCP, I swear I'll toss the motherredacted out the goddamn airlock.

"Noth erf ay phrine hermm herst. (Not if I find him first.)" Growled a krogan who was still having his lip regrown after having chewed them off in his drug induced state.

"With great, irritable sarcasm; get in line, bub." Grudgingly said an elcor covered in gauss and bandages.

*This one will take great pleasure in introducing a new waste excretion port in the guilty individual who metaphorically fornicates with its female sire* Said a hanar, who's legs had all been dismembered in the incident, and was now be carried around by a drell assistant.

"Mur-hum Murrhh!" Vehemently agreed a salarian in full-body traction from a wheelchair.

30) Tossing personal out the airlock is strictly forbidden. Unless referring to the redacted in rule twenty-nine.

31) Salarians: I don't know what your issue is with it, but stop ignoring Rule-five.

32) Asari: the performance of live exotic-dancing to maintain moral is becoming too much of a distraction. Stop it.

"Awww!" groaned most of the species and genders present in disappointed unison.

33) Everybody is to stop licking the drell personals to get high. Working while intoxicated is unacceptable, and it makes the drells feel very disturbed.

34) DON'T do anything that falls under Rule 34 (Excluding discrete sexual activities between consenting sapient species; organic, synthetic, race and/or gender).

35) Krogan: Your rendition of Macbeth was certainly aw inspiring, but that had better not have been real blood. If it was; it REALLY have better not have come from any of the workforce.

36) Geth: You're no longer allowed to participate in blackjack, poker games, and online tournaments. Your ability to calculate statistics, lack of facial-expressions, and shear processing power just isn't fare for the rest of us.

The geth took this opportunity to express there newfound ability to feel superiority:

LOL! FTW! XD PWND! WOOT! =3 LMFAO! :3 BTCHZ!

37) Any further attempts at training pyjaks in doing manual labor is to immediately cease. The feces throwing has gotten out-of-hand.

38) All personal are to stop feeding the rachni rat-poison. They're just getting addicted to it.

39) Drawing smily faces and pictures of genitalia on quarian helmets is no longer funny.

40) Arm wrestling matches with elcors is highly discouraged for passing the time. Same goes for krogans and head-butting competitions (we need your brains intact).

41) Elcor and krogan security personal are no longer permitted to perform full-body cavity searches.

42) Geth; we don't know what it is your doing to the hardware of the ships mainframe, but its most likely in violation of Rule 34. So knock-it off!

43) Somebody is to immediately tell me why the hell people keep bursting into laughter whenever somebody passes a salarian a work cable and tells them to 'hold the line.'

44) People are to stop hacking the voluses' suit voice modulators so that they sound like Darth-Vader.

45) Hanar: the sinks and drinking fountains are not urinals. Use the toilets.

46) Krogan: no more playing 'fetch the grenade' with the rachni workers. We've had enough with the hull-breaches and bug intestines to clean up.

47) Geth: although humor is a great way to boost moral, making jokes about overthrowing organics is not okay. Even if you do at the end say: 'that was a joke.'

The geth expressed their newfound ability to feel dejected:

=( =,( D: {:,( TnT .n. : TT_TT =c

48) Hanar: stop preaching about the prothean that was found. I've met your Enkindler, and honestly, you'd be disappointed.

49) For the last time quarians; they're called 'straws,' not 'Emergency-Induction Ports.'

50) Finally, In-light of most recent events: Sticking your tongues and gentile on the liquid-helium coolant pipes is ABSOLUTELY...you know what? I just find this absolutely incomprehensible that this even happened! In-fact: I can't believe that I'm having to put up with all this crap! Brightest minds in the galaxy, my redacted ass!

When the salarian had finished, everybody just sort of shrugged and went back to doing their own thing. Hackett looked on through his office in satisfaction. Miss Taylor, standing behind him, silently pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head.

/32 Hours Later/

Admiral Hackett was having a good day.

Despite the Reaper invasion and Cerberus, things had been relatively quite for the past 32 hours.

In his hand, he nursed a cup of coffee, his head throbbing, but not feeling like it was about to explode.

Yes. He had gotten his message across. Things looked like they where settling down.

His comm rang. He tapped the button.

"Yes, miss Taylor?"

"Sir! I'm in the med bay! Hanar physicists team five have all been found with their tentacles tied in knots; Salarian research team 2 have all grown hair and swearing that it wasn't for science; several personal have tested positive for scale-itch and last nights poker game ended up with a krogan lodging the chief salarian engineer's head in the chief elcor physicists rectum!"

Admiral Hackett could only sit there in stunned silence. In the comms background, he could hear muffled cries of distressed and the distant monotone of an elcor saying, "In unfathomable pain and humiliation: please, just kill me."

"Sir?" Miss Taylor asked, checking to see if he was still connected. Sighing, he reached into his desk to fetch the brandy.