Queen's Gambit Accepted - Ch 10: Multitasking

"I don't mean to be rude. But if I put you on mute, it's not because I love you any less. It's because I'm kind of trying to not die."

[Call muted]

Priya Suresh-Traynor grimaced in horror on Samantha's tiny vid. It was an appropriate reaction to the larger frame this call to her mother was windowed in: muzzle flashes and smoke surrounding a constant stream of Cerberus soldiers. Thank God mum can't see this. She'd flip out. At least her special girl is a few thousand kilometers above Sanctum aboard a spaceship?

Oh. Shit. She probably won't find the whole "trying to not die" comment cheeky or endearing.

Note to self: know your audience.

If that wasn't enough, Samantha Traynor was attempting some truly incredible multitasking at this very moment.

Task the first: fending off Cerberus engineers from hacking Shepard's team comms. The tight Cerberus compound had a lot of entry points and the enemy was trying to flank Shepard, Vega and EDI at every turn. This was on top of reclaiming their Reaper technology under lock and key at the facility. Technology that the Commander was attempting to steal. For all the right reasons, of course.

The view through the hard suit camera of "Shepard, A" was very jostly. And every time the Commander did a biotic charge, Sam felt the mango protein bar in her stomach get irritated. It was keen on coming back up to give Samantha a talkin'-to. Especially every time she saw that split-second zoom in from a six meter distance to less than one, with a Cerberus helmet filling the screen before a biotic fist slammed it away. Ugh. If I didn't know better I'd say she was enjoying herself.

On top of this pair of vids was a constantly updating diagnostic feed. Not Sam's normal QEC comms for updating the galaxy map, either. This new feed was her other piece of heartburn for the Sanctum mission: Sam was attempting to help EDI on her first combat mission.

Task the second: calibrating EDI's mech body in active combat. Which would be bloody impossible if she weren't helping. Maintaining an evolving algorithm so Cerberus can't track or block her broadcast to the body while also providing constant updates to enemy positions is just… a treat. Couldn't we have done this in a nice, controlled environment? Like the Shuttle Bay? Or the loo?

Task the third…

[Call active]

"Okay, mum, I'm back. Forgive me for being a little …distracted," Sam meekly retorted. Her fingers were flying over her console, and under normal circumstances she would just tell her mother to call her back. But the QEC connection across the galaxy had been bloody awful for the past week with the massive influx of distress calls so a dropped call would take hours, if not days, to reattempt. Making this one call alone had Samantha pulling out every trick in her R&D arsenal.

Torrent real time data feed through the Terminus relay network. Open back door comms on Alliance networks. Set up comm buoys to relay signal. Overlay algorithm to boost signal. Layer feed with encryption suite to maintain security. And somehow manage to have a calm, sincere conversation with mum while also fending off Cerberus hackers and running diagnostics on a mech.

I hope Commander Shepard has a generous pay grade system, because surely this counts as overtime. That Cision Pro Mark-4 isn't going to buy itself.

"Are you certain you're all right? I can call you back if need be," Priya asked with a frown. A trio of lines formed around her eyebrows with concern. A trio of blips appeared on Sam's radar as she swiped at her screens. Incoming Cerberus fighters. Wait, four fighters. Update Cortez with the extraction coordinates.

"I'm fine!" Squeaking, Samantha cleared her throat and tried again more calmly. "…I'm fine. Just some pesky scrubber programs wreaking havoc on my feeds' real time updates. Trust me, mum, I didn't spend two hours jury-rigging this call just to try again later." Well, more like four. Unless I want to forgo sleep tonight, I don't have another four hours to try this shit again. 

Priya raised an eyebrow. "Well, as long as you're sure. Things are pretty quiet back home at least. Your father is getting ready for yet another city council meeting. They've updated our evacuation protocols again. We have another evac drill tonight."

Noticing some hostile code nosing its way into EDI's diagnostic feed, Sam fought back with a boost to the firewall. "Sounds like Horizon is prepared for the worst. Has there been any Reaper activity in your neck of the Terminus?"

"Thank heavens, no. Another colony went dark, though. Tiptree. I haven't been able to make contact with my cousin Amisha or her husband, but she said she was taking her family to the Citadel a week ago. Do you—do you know if there's a way to see if she made it there safe?"

Cortez's comm signal spiked, and Sam could hear in her earpiece a frantic exchange about how hot the extraction point was. The cut to Vega's camera also revealed the thin strip of landing platform crawling with Cerberus soldiers carrying shields. "Unfortunately, the Normandy hasn't docked at the Citadel in almost two weeks. It's up to Commander Shepard to tell us where to go, and she's been on a tear lately," Samantha evaded with a sigh. I'm pretty sure that information is locked down tight at the Alliance embassy. If just anyone could pull up docking manifests and passenger logs, organized crime would probably go through the roof on the Citadel. 

Sam's mother frowned for a second. "Oh, okay. Well, I'll send you her IP. Maybe you'll have better luck the next time you go to the Citadel." Priya tucked her gray black hair behind her ears. "Sammy. Were you keeping up with your sessions? Before… you know…"

"Mum…"

"I know you hate it when I ask. I'm not nagging you, I promise. I just want to make sure you're okay. Especially being so far from home."

Samantha sighed. Shepard and team had made it back to the shuttle. EDI was running her own post-combat diagnostic. All of Sam's tasks had taken care of themselves in rapid succession. Now she had to actually talk to her mother.

About why she hadn't been seeing her counselor.

"I was busy. With the retrofits. I was seeing someone." Isabella… Sam shook her head. Not going through that right now. "I haven't had a nightmare in over a month." About Horizon, anyway. "So no. I missed a couple sessions with Dr. Harper before Earth—before I left."

Priya was silent. She chewed her lip before carefully picking her words. "After all you saw… do you think—are you okay, Samantha? Please don't answer right away just to tell me what I want to hear. I'm asking you, sweetie: are you okay?"

Tilting her head back, Sam closed her eyes. She took a few deep breaths and tried to clear her mind. Her mental to-do list was still circling, as was a chess move she'd been working on in her downtime.

There it is. There weren't screams in this buried memory, just hushed whispering. It had grown blurry after almost a year and even managed to fade some. All the noisy chaos aboard the Normandy tended to overshadow that long day ten months ago on Horizon. With the whispering, hiding and terror. Arcturus had been far worse, since the R&D section was quiet and the dorms secluded. Too much quiet and too much time to think.

Well, if that doesn't sound like denial, I don't know what does, Traynor.

"For all intents and purposes, mum," Sam hesitated as she looked back down at her mother on her vid screen. "…I'm all right. There's been some occasional sobbing in the girls' washroom, especially right after what happened on Earth, but I'm keeping busy. I'm making a difference here. One day at a time, right?"

"One day at a time," Priya Suresh-Traynor repeated. The psychologist's favorite trite bullshit advice.

Her mother stood up straighter. "I wish you would come home, Sammy. A lot of people have been moving to that bunker. Sanctuary? I think it's called? I've been trying to convince your father that we should go there, but he insists on the evac drills and the city council meetings and the normalcy. He says squatters will move in to our house and trample my flower beds and draw moustaches on our family photos. The worst thing imaginable, he says," Priya said with a smile. Her imitation of her husband was a little gruff and sarcastic, but full of affection.

Samantha dryly agreed. "Truly horrific. The Great Moustachening on Horizon would live forever in infamy." An incoming message distracted her. Finally, the salarian dalatrass had agreed to the terms of the war summit. A full house. The turian primarch, krogan war chief and salarian dalatrass. "Mum? I need to update the galaxy map and report to my CO. I'll send you an email later. With pictures this time. You know I'm dreadful about taking pictures."

"I didn't see your college dorm 'til you were a junior," Priya remembered with a shake of her head. Her salt and pepper bangs came loose from their safety behind her ears. "It's a mother thing. We like to know our children aren't living in squalor and know how to make the bloody bed once in awhile. To prove we didn't completely fail as parents."

Chuckling, Sam ran her finger behind her ears. Dammit, now you've got me doing it. "Well, I share a sleeper pod with the entire female crew, so you'll have to evaluate my hospital corners technique some other time. But I'll take a nice holo of me looking productive and responsible. Not sloppy drunk and hanging from the drive core like a stripper."

"So not like your after graduation party? Excellent. Make mummy proud, Sam." Priya was pretty damn funny when she wasn't a nervous wreck. Horizon must be doing well if mum is in such a good mood. All things considered.

"I love yous" were exchanged just as EDI announced over the intercom that the Kodiak had docked with everyone safe and sound.

All's well that ends well.

Sam cracked her neck and yawned deeply. A few keystrokes updated the holographic galaxy map. A glowing blue circle appeared around the Annos Basin system, indicating it was ready for Shepard to investigate at her leisure. Satisfied her shift was in a good enough place for a break, Samantha logged out of her system and turned to the elevator. 10 minutes for a trip to the loo and the kitchen should be enough of a refresher. Then it's five long hours 'til my shift's over. Must resist the urge to repurpose the galaxy map for that Star Battle MMO I was playing awhile back. 

EDI greeted Sam as the elevator opened. They exchanged pleasantries while Samantha did a cursory examination of the mech. Surprisingly little wear and tear, considering the amount of gun-wielding lunatics down on Sanctum. The Evil Sciences Division of Cerberus at least knew how to make mechs last. EDI politely thanked Sam for her efforts, and indicated the mech's performance was satisfactory to Commander Shepard for continued deployment.

A smashing success. Now I really need to pee.

Humming quietly along to the elevator music, Sam was feeling slightly better about—

"Nope. You're coming with me."

"I—What?"

Before Sam could even process what had happened, Diana had burst into the elevator on the Crew Deck, shoved Sam back and hit the button for Engineering. She was holding a nutrient bar in one hand and a mug of tea in the other, but her expression was intense and focused.

"May I ask what—"

"Shhhh—shush—shush… You'll see in a second."

"But I have to pee. Fiercely."

"You can pee any time."

"…in about three minutes, you have no idea how right you are," Samantha grumbled. The number "4" for Engineering finally blinked on and Sam was shooed out the door by a crazy woman wielding tea. She started to make her way to Allers' room (bloody hell, just get this over with), but the reporter stopped her.

"No, stupid. Look out the damn window."

Below in the Shuttle Bay were two lone soldiers.

Beating the shit out of each other.

James Vega and Commander Shepard had stripped off some of their armor, leaving their lower armor and shin guards still on while their upper bodies were comically devoid of clothing. They looked absurdly bottom heavy with heavy plate below thin Alliance tank tops and bare arms. Both soldiers were bouncing and weaving, fists held up near their faces in readiness. The whole scene was accented by clouds of smoke and steam from the cooling down Kodiak beside them.

"How did you even—didn't they just get back literally a minute ago?"

"I know, right! Cortez told me about it when he was hitting the mess. My inner and outer reporter would never forgive myself if I missed Lieutenant Vega picking a fight with Commander Shepard. I wish I could get down there with my camera. …actually…" And just like that, Allers vanished. She reappeared a moment later with her camera drone hovering beside her. There was a glistening wet spot on the metal hallway where she had spilled some tea in hurry.

Vega and Shepard weren't quite in a throw-down, drag-out brawl. They kept taking measured swings and jabs, giving the other an opportunity to block. But a few fists had struck home. A dribble of blood trickled down James' chin, a souvenir from his fat lower lip. Shepard was sporting a moustache of red on her upper lip from a jab to her freckled nose.

Samantha watched the spectacle for a few more seconds, but she didn't share Diana's giddy glee. Actually, Sam was pretty concerned. Vega and Shepard seemed to get along. He's been on pretty much every mission since we left Earth, so she trusts him in combat at least?

So what the hell happened?

She turned to Allers, who was still grinning with intrigue and sipping her tea. "Did Steve say what they were fighting about?"

"Dissention in the ranks. The lieutenant was critical of the commander's priorities. And not helping Earth. Apparently this is how Shepard handles insubordination." Diana's oversimplified explanation sounded suspect to Sam. Sure, Vega was pretty grouchy about running to the Citadel, but…

"While I have an appropriate level of shame to know this is wrong… I wish we could hear what they were saying."

Allers fired up her Omni-tool and laughed. "I thought you'd never ask!"

"What? I didn't! …did you bug the Shuttle Bay?" Samantha's jaw dropped in horror.

Sniffing with disdain, Allers waved Sam off. "You slander me. I'm not a spy, Traynor. I'm a reporter. I was interviewing Cortez before they headed down to Sanctum and left my extra mic on the workbench. I'm just putting it to good use." She twisted and adjusted some icons on the glowing orange interface.

"—who says I'm blaming myself?" Vega's shout crackled over Diana's Omni-tool.

A few grunts from Shepard matched her hard swings below. "I do. That stunt back on Mars was reckless. You're lucky to be alive."

Vega bobbed and weaved, accepting a few punches to his hard abdomen with little effort. "So?"

"So maybe you don't care if you live or die."

Pressing back with jabs to Shepard's face, Vega scoffed. "So you're a shrink now? That's a laugh coming from you. How many days have we spent chasing Cerberus because you've got a bug up your ass about 'em? Throwing our lives away on Cerberus now? I thought we were fighting for Earth."

"You're out of line," Shepard growled as a punch slammed into her cheek, splitting it open. She staggered back, but leaned forward and lunged with a pair of heavy crosses.

"Am I? Maybe I'm just willing to do whatever the fuck it takes to end this God damn war!" Sputtering as Shepard's fists connected with his face, Vega dropped his hands and stood up straight. "…Are you?"

Rubbing the fresh bruise on her cheek, Shepard crossed her arms. "More than you'll ever know. But if you sacrifice yourself, or my ship, needlessly: that's unacceptable."

Samantha chewed on her lip. She wasn't one to take sides, but part of her thought… Vega was right. They'd brushed off the war summit ever since Grissom Academy. Shepard's attitude had ranged from manic to that weird calm in the Starboard Observation Deck yesterday. She was on the verge of frenzy, and this legendary focus that was so part of Shepard's reputation had been absent.

Vega snarked a thanks for the pep talk, and tore off the rest of his armor before mumbling about hitting the showers. Shepard remained in the Shuttle Bay, and Allers' mic didn't pick up anything other than shuffling footsteps.

What, were you hoping the Commander would start monologuing her feelings to the Kodiak?

Diana's loud exhale broke Sam's concentration. The reporter was on her Omni-tool, while snippets of the conversation trickled out as she fast forwarded and rewound.

This is none of our business.

Gritting her teeth, Sam was suddenly protective. "What are you going to do with that footage, Allers?"

Not answering right away, Diana's head turned to Samantha but her eyes remained on her Omni-tool. She shrugged. "Oh, I dunno. Doesn't really fit into any of my Battlespace segments. Not terribly motivational when it comes to the war effort either, but could be a juicy exposé once this is all over."

Sam slapped a hand over Allers' wrist. "Delete it. Now."

"What did you say?"

"I said you're erasing that footage. Right now, Allers." The two women glared at each other. Sam was never usually this ballsy. Confrontation made her queasy, and there was already that lurching jolt in her stomach the longer Samantha stared Diana down. Her forehead started to sweat and she wanted so badly to look away. Letting her hand drop from Allers' wrist, Sam had to clench her fists to keep them from shaking.

Diana stuck her lower lip out defiantly and raised an eyebrow. Then nodded with a sigh. "All right."

"All right?"

"I'll delete it."

"Really?"

Allers chuckled and punched Sam lightly on the arm. "Really. You're right. I'm a guest here. Shepard already doesn't like me on her ship, I'm not gonna rock the boat. I don't want to be tossed out of the airlock just for some stupid bullshit story that isn't even a story. So yea." An orange glow danced over Allers' face as she fired up her Omni-tool, but Sam was still studying her to see if she was lying.

"Stop glaring at me, Traynor. You can have EDI poke through my shit if you don't believe me. Just keep her off my extranet bookmarks. What I do in my free time is none of that AI's business," Diana laughed airily. She punched Sam on the arm again, before frowning. "Are we cool?"

Leaning back, Samantha crossed her arms. She was waiting for her heart to slow down a little before answering. Thank God she backed down. I probably would have thrown up on her shoes. Or peed on them. "We're cool, Allers."

She glanced out the window to see Shepard leaning over the crates. Her arms were straight out and braced against the cargo while her head hung down. All Sam could see were sculpted shoulder muscles and a tangled mess of red hair. "Do you think—is Shepard all right? Should I go check?"

A lilting laugh came from behind Sam. "Your funeral. First you'll have to explain how you know why she's in such a shitty mood. And if you sell me out, Traynor, I will start putting hidden cameras on the Crew Deck and start a vid blog titled 'How many times does Specialist Traynor pick her nose in a day?' …Or any other myriad of unlady-like things you might do. The extranet has a huge fetish following, so you'll probably end up a star."

"Tempting, but no thanks. I promise I won't name drop you."

"Again, your funeral. My tea is cold. And I thought you had to pee?"

Samantha turned around just as the elevator doors were closing. Thanks for waiting for me. …whore. It was close to a minute before the elevator reappeared empty. Hesitating over the buttons, Sam sighed and hit the glowing "5." I'm a sucker for punishment. Plus if I can stand up to Diana's temper, Shepard's should be a piece of cake.

Right?

Deciding to at least give herself a buffer, Sam paged Dr. Chakwas to the Shuttle Bay. She got an immediate response.

[Message received: "w/ a patient atm, b there ~5min."]

She writes like a bloody teenager.

The doors opened to reveal Shepard still at her vigil against the cargo area in the middle of the bay. As Sam tiptoed around the weapon benches and armor locker, movement caught her eye. Several crates in a semi-circle around the Commander were laced with a crackle of biotic blue. They hovered uncertainly, gripped but loose.

"Commander?" I need an excuse to say something. Think, Traynor, think. "You have a new message at your private terminal."

Surprisingly, that actually worked. Shepard looked at Sam over her bent elbow. She blew an errant wisp of red hair out of her eyes and nodded tersely. The hovering crates were suddenly released and banged against the metal floor. Pushing off, Shepard eased into a sitting position on the floor. Her spine pressed intimately into a gap between boxes, and she leaned her head back after closing her eyes.

Only the gentle whum-whum of the drive core could be heard, so the silence was deafening to Sam. She took a hesitant step back toward the elevator. Well, you certainly thought this through. Shall we talk about the weather? The color of Cerberus trooper blood? My favorite vid? Does she like romantic walks on the beach and getting caught in the rain?

…whoa, where did that last bit come from?

"How are you settling in, Traynor?" Shepard asked lightly, thankfully distracting Sam from her thoughts.

Gingerly stepping back to lean against the crates next to Shepard, Samantha thought a moment before deciding on a conversational approach. "I actually feel somewhat useful. It's been challenging to integrate data feeds for the war summit. Which is now on schedule, by the way. I just got confirmation."

"How are the systems holding up?" Another boring, professional question. She doesn't want to talk about what happened. …did you expect her to? Because you are just the best of friends?

"Well…" Samantha hesitated, but smiled. "I'm glad we performed stress tests."

EDI, always listening, chimed in overhead. "Specialist Traynor has been extremely helpful. The accuracy of our war room data is a direct result of her work." That warm, singing feeling had returned. Oh EDI, you tease. You know just how to make a girl feel wanted. "Thank you, EDI."

When Shepard didn't respond, Sam rushed to fill the empty space. For some reason, Shepard's silences were always a green light in Sam's mind to just ramble on. "I'm still getting used to all of this. In the lab, we'd hoard everything—piles of tech everywhere. Out here, it's like living out of a shoebox."

Rubbing her jaw, Shepard looked past Sam. Upward. Samantha turned around and looked up to see several faces pressed against the Engineering deck window. Rashad, Adams, Hertzfeldt, and Douglas all jumped up in comical synch, then scattered. Shepard sighed. "Life on an active ship always feels crowded at first. You get used to it."

And, to Sam's utter surprise: Shepard patted the ground beside her. She was actually asking, without asking, that Sam sit with her. Vega must have hit her harder than I thought. I'm glad I called Dr. Chakwas when I did. She's delirious. But Samantha obliged, and mimicked the Commander's leaning sit against the cargo hold. The intimate, friendly atmosphere should have been rewarding.

Instead, it made Sam stupid. "Oh, it's not a bad thing. I've got no problems… getting cozy." She even had the audacity to giggle.

"Getting cozy"… "getting cozy"?! Are you barking mad? You're flirting! You flirt! Your commanding officer just killed about 20 people and beat the crap out of one of your crewmates, and you're flirting!

Samantha cleared her throat, but Shepard didn't react. One of her eyes was still closed, while one peered curiously. Shepard's anger came ringing back to Sam's mind, and she decided a different tactic. Look, she's been agitated and dealing with insubordination. Try to be appreciative. Maybe it will be refreshing.

"This is wonderful," Sam purred lightly, waving her hand in front of her. "Back in the lab, we had to hoard because we had no budget. It was a nightmare, and every researcher for herself. But now…"

Sam glanced around the Shuttle Bay. She remembered when Steve was outfitting this place back on Earth. Every requisition form he filled out, whether it was for a pile of bolts or a state-of-the-art procurement system, was signed off on. It was wonderful, and Samantha's requisitions wish-list flashed in her mind. "EDI? Ariake Tech uses a proprietary smart-processing algorithm that could clean up our long-range data. Can we license it?"

To Sam's delight, EDI responded with approval and by the time Sam could grin cheerfully at Shepard, the AI had already applied and analyzed the upgrade, determining it to be an efficient change to the Normandy. Shepard focused both eyes on Sam, and nodded. "Impressive." Samantha murmured that she could get used to living out of the shoebox, to which Shepard smiled lightly.

Silence once again enveloped the Shuttle Bay, but Samantha wasn't quite ready to leave yet. It was Shepard who broke it this time. "I fucking hate Cerberus."

Not exactly a winning conversation starter. "I noticed, ma'am."

The elevator door spared Sam from what would undoubtedly be a difficult conversation. Because I… don't hate Cerberus. I mean, I sort of pity them? I guess? But how can I hate something that without it… I'd probably be dead. If Shepard hadn't worked with Cerberus, I'd be a Collector prisoner. Or dead. So would my family. 

Would you hate me if I didn't hate them?

Dr. Chakwas swept into the Shuttle Bay with a large packet of medi-gel and her Omni-tool glowing. "So sorry to keep you waiting, Commander."

"Waiting? I didn't send for you, doctor." Shepard glanced at Sam in confusion.

Eeep. 

Think, Traynor, think.

But the good doctor shot Sam a kind smile before setting her bag down in front of the Commander. "Lieutenant Vega mentioned you might have need of my services. He had some rather nasty bruises and indicated you might also be sporting injury. From …Sanctum? No doubt?" Karin eyed the darkening bruise on Shepard's chin, as well as orange cybernetics peaking through the cut on her cheek.

Muttering assent, Shepard closed her eyes while Dr. Chakwas dabbed medi-gel on her face. Sam let out a quiet sigh of relief. I owe that woman a drink. Her eyes couldn't help but wander as Karin peeled up Shepard's tank top to examine her torso, stopping just short of her breasts. Dark purple dots peppered muscular abs, the sign that the Commander's shields had failed and bullets were hitting her armor. But there was no penetration or blood, and the doctor's probing fingers revealed no indication of internal injury. Nor did her Omni-tool, as Dr. Chakwas administered a long overdue scan.

Sam asked if she should leave, for this whole examination seemed rather personal. Shrugging off her concern, Shepard pulled her tank top down and waved dismissively. What does that mean, should I stay? Or go?

I think if the Commander wanted you to leave, she'd say so.

Dr. Chakwas wanted to keep an eye on Shepard's cybernetic implants. "Expensive stuff, bringing me back," the Commander quipped with some anger. "Bringing me back"? Were all those rumors …true?

More questions.

Karin smiled. "And worth every penny." She glanced at her Omni-tool and considered the diagnosis. "Your system is still detecting your implants as foreign bodies. While there's no health risk, your scars will have trouble healing. I recommend reducing stress levels. Be compassionate."

Shepard scoffed. "This is a war, Doctor. We don't have time for that." Her usual acid was back in her voice, and Sam shrank away slightly. She felt silly in comparison, talking to Shepard about shoeboxes. Silly and small.

"There's always time to be kinder. A little more optimism and a little less realism could help, Commander. Just a cosmetic issue, if you like that sort of thing," Karin pressed, running her fingertip over Shepard's cheek again. The scars didn't frighten Sam, but the alien lacing of cybernetics under Shepard's skin did somewhat.

Brushing her tenderness away, Shepard growled. "Do you ever regret working for Cerberus?"

"We didn't work for them. We used them," Dr. Chakwas countered with some venom. "If I were to feel anything, it would be guilt." Shepard scoffed again and wrinkled her nose. Several freckles disappeared in the crease.

"Guilt?" Sam repeated incredulously. Karin gestured around the Shuttle Bay. "We took their money. We took their best people. And we took their best ship."

Sniffing deeply, Shepard wiped the smudge of blood on her upper lip away. She glowered at the ground, unconvinced.

"We used them to defeat the Collectors and now we are using their resources against them." Dr. Chakwas placed a hand on Shepard's upper arm and squeezed it reassuringly. "So, no. I don't regret it one bit." The doctor didn't wait to be dismissed, but just turned on her heel toward the elevator.

Samantha's Omni-tool glowed with urgency. Another message from the Primarch. That 10 minute break had somehow become 20. And I still really have to pee. She stood up, but it felt wrong to turn her back on the Commander.

Extending a hand, Sam offered it to Shepard. Her eyes flicked from the open palm to Sam's eyes back to the palm, but she did accept. This lithe woman, so tiny compared to James Vega, was heavier than she looked. It took a slight heave to haul Shepard to her feet.

"Come, Commander. You have a war summit to host. It's poor manners to be late to your own party."

It was several long seconds before Samantha realized that Shepard was still holding her hand. A heat began to grow in Sam's cheeks, quite against her will. Shepard hadn't seemed to notice, for she was staring off in the distance. She had to blink several times before focusing back on Sam. But still Shepard held on.

Pulling her hand out of that warm grasp and placing it nonchalantly on her hip, Samantha nodded towards the elevator.

There was no smile, but just that crease around Shepard's eyes. The husky danger in her tone sent a tiny thrill up Sam's spine. "Time to dust off my dress blues and be on my best behavior. Hopefully I remember what that's like."

"I'm certain it's in there somewhere, Commander. And I bet it's lovely."