Ren's Opening Note:
This is my submission to a fanfic contest held on DeviantArt for the Traynor fan group: #TheToothbrushGirl. The criteria was pretty simple: 1,000+ words about a scene in Sam's life. There is also a list of words I'm supposed to use, and for funsies I tried to use all of them.
I wanted it to be within my other fic's universe (Queen's Gambit Accepted), but be outside the Normandy and ME3 events. Which left either an epilogue or a prequel.
Right. Prequel/prologue it is! Cover art by Fishbone76 and used with her permission.
The story title is the opening move, also referred to as A40, to start the Queen's Gambit.*
"Did you remember your toothbrush? You bloody well better have remembered your toothbrush."
Samantha Traynor rolled her eyes at the orange holo screen on her Omni-tool. "Yes, Dad. I packed my toothbrush." ...Though her right hand did steal a quick feel in the red satchel at her side. Just to be sure. Her fingertips brushed against a smooth, familiar handle.
Whew. That would have been embarrassing. And bad for my gums.
On the other end, Geoffrey Traynor narrowed his eyes in mock seriousness. "Because if I find it in the bathroom, sprog, I'm selling it on the black market. Your mum and I will live like kings. We will be the envy of all the prefabs."
"Your oblique commentary that you paid far too much for my amazing toothbrush is noted, Father," Sam quipped formally. "Unfortunately for you and mum, you will not be able to retire early from Cision Pro Mark-4 resales. You'll have to get rich the old fashioned way."
"Have a child who invents something amazing and buys us a mansion on Bekenstein?"
"Or hard work and... something something. I think my dad told me once but I've forgotten."
"Bloody kids," Geoffrey sighed. "Never listen."
Chuckling lightly, Sam brushed an errant strand of her short, black hair behind her ear. It kept jostling loose. The transport vessel the Alliance comms specialist was currently on had a crappy inertial dampener; every adjustment of the thrusters at FTL speed radiated through the ship with a jolt.
"How's mum?"
Sam's father sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "She's at her session with Dr. Harper. She had a dreadful nightmare last night so she's trying to work through it."
Oh.
Well, that certainly changes the mood. Samantha glanced around uneasily. She didn't fancy having a personal conversation about post traumatic stress with her father in the middle of a crowded compartment.
The compartment in question was an open community area on a Kowloon-class freighter, the MSV Gibraltar. It was bumpily headed toward the Arcturus Stream with a collection of Alliance and civilian humans trying to entertain themselves on the last day of their three-day voyage from the Shadow Sea cluster. There was even one male quarian fidgeting nervously with his Omni-tool.
Pilgrimage? Maybe?
Shaking her head, Sam focused back on the small view screen. She knew what was coming next, and tried to head it off… without looking defensive. "Oh… but at least she sleeps now, right? In a bed? She doesn't still see the lid of that horrible stasis pod, does she? …I've been all right, by the way. No nightmares to speak of for almost two weeks."
"Don't get me wrong, sprog. Things are leaps and bounds better than they were right after... it-it happened…" Geoffrey sighed deeply. "I still kick myself for not going with her to the store. Maybe if I had…"
"Dad," Samantha interrupted softly. "You know it's not your fault. And she'll be okay. We just need to remember how lucky we are to still be here."
Geoffrey seemed to be looking through Sam via the small screen. But his jaw clenched resolutely. "One day at a time."
"One day at a time," the comms specialist agreed.
Clearing his throat, Sam's father tilted his head with concern. "Are you sure you're ready to go back to work?"
Sam sighed. No, I'm not sure. But I need to do it anyway before I go crazy.
...Crazier?
"I can't stay at home whinging forever. Unless you plan on supporting a deadbeat daughter, then marrying me off to the lowest bidder. At least I can do something useful for the Alliance. Multitask whinging and working."
"Did they ever find out how the Collectors were driven away?"
"Still only rumors. But now they're saying Commander Shepard was there." Sam wasn't sure if she believed it. The Commander had been ruled KIA two years ago. Attacked by geth. Then suddenly she was back from the dead, working with terrorists, and showing up all over the galaxy. She'd heard gossip that business was booming on the Citadel. Something about all sorts of endorsements from the first human SpecTRe, but it all reeked of a marketing ploy to Sam.
At least, it had all sounded like bullshit until Commander Shepard herself, in the flesh, had shown up at Alliance headquarters two months ago. The rumors were swirling all over the extranet. Alive. Wiped out the Collectors. Destroyed a batarian star system.
A far cry from the Hero of the Citadel and Elysium. Sam always liked hearing about that woman while she was working through Academy. Much more epic and romantic… though beyond those two titles, Samantha didn't actually know much else about Shepard. She shook her head.
"Anyway, she's under lock and key on Earth. I think the ANN is supposed to issue a public statement any day now about what happened."
Sam would know. She had been watching a lot of ANN over the past two and a half months. She'd needed something to do in between filling out reports, taking (and failing and finally passing) psych evaluations, and playing a lot of chess.
Speaking of which…
"Are you sure you want me to have your chess set, Dad?" She touched a toe to the foot locker under her chair. A faint rattling of stone could be heard inside.
"It'll gather dust without you here, Sammy. Besides, you need more practice than I do," Geoffrey winked amiably.
"Yes, well, I play for keeps. I promise to soundly beat your smelly socks off and rightly earn my keep... and a place in your heart as the superior chess player."
"As long as you have a goal, sprog."
"Goals are important," Sam agreed.
Suddenly, the freighter dropped out of FTL. Several large frigates crept by out the window, flanked by dozens of smaller fighters. Sam knew what was happening before the announcement came over the PA system.
"Attention: The MSV Gibraltar will be docking with Arcturus Station momentarily. For civilians: please visit the Alliance customs agent for tourism information. For military personnel: please submit to ID scanning at the security checkpoint. Thank you for flying with us. Please proceed to the docking bay," a male virtual intelligence droned.
Glancing back down at her Omni-tool, Samantha apologized lightly. "I've got to go, Dad. Give mum my love. I'll call you guys tomorrow once I'm settled back in."
The Traynors exchanged hurried goodbyes then Sam hefted her heavy footlocker. Staggering toward the long disembarkment line, the comms specialist cursed all the extra shit she was carrying. Mainly the wonderful rose quartz and hematite bundle of rocks at the bottom of the luggage.
Reduced to just kicking the footlocker along with her through the line, Samantha finally cleared security and made her way over to the Arcturus Station light rail.
She started to breathe easier. The light rail was familiar. She felt the comfort and familiarity of the space station ease some of the tension in her shoulders. It got better when she heard a familiar shout as the doors opened at J-18.
Alliance R&D.
Home away from home.
"Sam! Sammy!"
Her friend, Specialist Mary Dietrich, waved manically from the receiving platform. Two of the other comms specialists, Corday and Emerson, also loitered next to Mary. Before Sam could even say a word of greeting, Mary tackled Samantha in a crushing hug.
"Shit, woman! You had us all worried! We didn't know if you were ever coming back!"
"I did," William Corday interjected huffily. The younger Specialist, fresh out of Academy, liked to be right. He smiled shyly at Samantha, running his hands over his close-cropped sandy hair.
"You left us high and dry, Traynor." Specialist Todd Emerson was older, surly, and not fond of change.
"Aw, did you miss me, princess? You could have just said so," Samantha returned sarcastically. Emerson's eyes narrowed (because he is still a humorless old bastard) but he said nothing. He even managed to squeeze Sam's shoulder in a dim gesture of affection. She had to suppress a Stupid urge to tease him about that, but decided not to ruin the beautiful reunion by pressing Emerson's buttons.
Plenty of time for that later when he's second-guessing my equations and trying to take over my projects. How I've missed his charming personality.
Nodding at the footlocker on the ground, Dietrich latched on to Sam's arm. "Be gentlemen and get her things." The short brunette led the comms specialist down a familiar corridor while the two men huffed behind them. Sam overheard Corday mumble, "What the hell does she have in this thing? Rocks?"
...well, actually...
"How are you really doing, Sam?" Mary's blue eyes studied Samantha while the women sidestepped around the other specialists in the J wing of Arcturus. They passed Do Not Enter signs and security curtains to other departments every few meters. Armed guards glared at every passerby.
Is it just me, or does security seem tighter?
Samantha shook her head and turned to Mary. "It was bad. Not as bad as some of the others, but... They took a third of the colony. My mum was actually in a pod, ready to be taken away, when they left in a hurry. Dad and I were paralyzed, waiting for the Collectors to come for us."
"Oh wow."
"Then the Alliance came with research and medical teams. We were all quizzed and prodded about what we knew. I also stayed to try and figure out how the Collectors blocked our distress signals. Clever, actually. Massive ship signature served as a comms black hole to absorb outgoing comm signals."
"That's my girl," Mary smiled as they reached their side of the Research and Development floor. Quantum Entanglement Laboratory J22. Yet another security check at the door, with two guards Sam didn't recognize. The female of the two flicked her eyes over Samantha suspiciously and hefted her assault rifle.
Something in her hard, brown eyes stilled the flirtation on Sam's tongue. But... I love a woman in uniform! The woman, "Pvt D Slater," demanded Samantha's credentials, a look through the satchel on her hip, and a retinal scan before the group of comms specialists were allowed to enter.
Jesus. If she was my type, she certainly isn't anymore. I think we were two seconds away from a cavity search. Without even buying me dinner first.
"Friendly girl," Samantha quipped dryly as she rubbed her eyes and dropped her satchel on the first low table in the cramped laboratory. "Almost had her right where I wanted her."
Mary agreed. "I think if I saw the good Private smile, I'd die of shock. Two months and no sign of thaw. Not even Lydia is jealous of her," Dietrich sighed in reference to her own wife of four years. "Then again, it's not like I get many second looks these days anyway." Patting her swollen belly, Mary waddled over to the nearest stool.
"Oh, shush. You're stunning. It's hard to do at six months pregnant, but you manage just fine."
"Stop trying to seduce me with your accent, Traynor. It won't work." Mary chuckled and flashed her left hand at Sam, waving the glittering wedding ring around like a shield.
"If you ladies are quite through," Specialist Emerson growled as he dragged Samantha's foot locker over to the dormitory entrance. "We're behind on the quantum directional scrubber. There's still a problem with targeted redundancy reductions. Duplicate signals aren't being collected and consolidated."
God, how I missed this.
The Alliance Quantum Entanglement Communication Research Laboratory was this ugly, cramped space at the very end of one of Arcturus Station's long arms. The workspace had a few consoles spread out around the corner desks, while the center tables were full of boxes. It looked like they were still moving in to the lab, when in fact the QEC R&D team had been together for several years.
Good to see some things never change. The few sections of table not devoted to boxes piled high with loose parts were only clear enough to hold soldering instruments for creating or tinkering with devices. One box was nothing but Omni-tool bracelets and implants for testing long and short range comms experiments. Another held a mixture of salarian, turian, and quarian tech just for dabbling and reverse engineering. One man's junk is another comm specialist's treasure. Case in point: Specialist Corday hunched over a collection of wiring, magnifying his Omni-tool camera to study the circuitry.
Padding over to her old console and setting her red satchel down, Samantha fired up the holo. She could feel the tension ease from her shoulders as her inbox loaded and the project lists flickered with updates. A pleasant distraction from thinking about ...home.
"You have the right equation, Todd, but it's out of order. You need to apply the algorithm before the data mine suite, not after. Otherwise, it's only being applied to existing data, not filtering from the get-go," Sam prattled on as she tapped a few keys. The holo simulation of the data feed suddenly flashed from red to green, and the screens along the walls ticked to life with information.
Emerson huffed over to his own console and studied the code. After a long silence, he grumbled with resentment. "You show up after three months and act like you own the place."
"I have no problems getting cozy," Sam purred back. "Plus, I've been sitting at home for three months playing nothing but strategy games. My mind is sharp as an Omni-blade." She tapped her temple with her forefinger for emphasis. But modesty kicked in. Samantha always did have trouble with compliments. Even surly, off-handed, non-compliments.
"You did all the work, Emerson. It's a brilliant bit of programming that will do wonders for cleaning up data from densely populated colonies. You don't have to give me co-author credit for rearranging a few lines of code. Unless you really want to. I prefer my royalties in the form of lemon curd tarts and nubile young maidens, though."
"The Alliance owns all patents to our research. A job well done is its own reward," Emerson mumbled in all seriousness while Mary's shoulders shook with suppressed laughter.
"Damn, it's good to have you back, Traynor."
Samantha smiled back in agreement. It did feel good. Turning to her console, the comms specialist took a deep breath and opened her inbox. Thousands of unread messages.
Ugh.
Most were field updates. Or bulk mailings on project statuses. General maintenance inquiries. Standard stuff. As she started applying filters to dump certain items into folders, Sam noticed a pattern emerging.
A name kept popping up.
"Lt Ventura, Vanessa C" had apparently been requesting Sam's assistance for the better part of the last six weeks. It was a strange conversation to behold, since she was separate from the whole process.
The first week was very polite. Wishing Samantha well on her recovery, looking forward to her return to the Alliance, interested in speaking about a valuable opportunity. The next few got more urgent, then finally outright explaining the job offer. Even Sam's boss, a bald Staff Lieutenant in the nicer part of Arcturus Station, had signed off on the temporary job transfer. All Sam had to do was accept.
Skimming the gist of the very formal description, it didn't seem like anything Sam would be interested in. "You come highly recommended." Blah, blah, blah. "Great opportunity." Let's see here. "Command center for an Alliance admiral," "advanced CIC GUI..." Hmmm... I do like the Darwin E-520 Galaxy Map feed interface... And the sound of that quantum entanglement comm buoy system channel. Serious power there. I've been wanting the tinker with the capabilities of the full network for forever.
But... then I'd have to leave. Sam looked around the cramped room. Dietrich was studying feed results and doing quality assurance, but also humming a little while lightly tapping her belly. Emerson typed furiously at a console, updating what looked to be a project result memo. Suck up.
Over at the workbench, Corday screwed in a pair of cylinders then tapped a button. A small hologram popped up above the mini-QEC responder he'd just repaired. Better with his hands than most quarians, I bet. Borderline robot fetishist, but I can't say I also don't find more comfort in machines than people sometimes.
You know. Just… every now and then.
Sam started deleting the messages. Nope. Too much to do here. Plus, they'd make better use of someone like Corday with more technical and engineering background. And I just got back, why would I want to run over to Earth for a six month contract?
Satisfied with her decision, Samantha turned to one of the large viewing screens along the wall not dedicated to comm feeds. The familiar logo of the ANN caught her eye, as did the words:
["Special message from Alliance Headquarters, Earth."]
She leaned back in her chair and clasped her wrist behind her head, propping herself up for a good view of the screen. Emily Wong appeared, Omni-tool mic in hand, as she summarized that the Alliance would be issuing a statement.
About Commander Annelise Shepard.
The feed cut over to a large podium. A stone-faced black man stood proudly, and the crawl on the screen indicated this was Admiral David Anderson. Several impeccably dressed Alliance officers shuffled in behind him, followed by a burly soldier with a mohawk who looked oddly out of place. Possibly because he was the only one in armor, assault rifle in hand.
Behind him was Commander Shepard. Sam had dim memories of Shepard after news of the Citadel hit two years ago. So she couldn't quite measure this woman against that one. They seemed similar. Rich red hair was pulled back in a bun and parted off to the side. Her green eyes were focused, but didn't quite look into the camera. Dressed in Alliance blues, her hands were behind her back, though Sam couldn't tell if was a sign of respect or handcuffs.
Anderson's rich baritone cut through the air, as the whispering off-camera died down immediately.
["Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. The Alliance would like to make a public statement regarding batarian relations. I regret to inform you that the heightened state of defense between the Human Systems Military Alliance and the Batarian Hegemony is a necessity. Two months ago, the batarian system of Bahak went dark. We have confirmed that the Alpha mass relay detonated, completely wiping out the system. A colony world of 300,000 also perished in the blast."]
There was a noticeable shift in Shepard, who glanced over at Anderson but remained silent. The Admiral continued.
["The Alliance is under strict orders to seek out diplomacy before any military action will be addressed. Our current efforts to negotiate with the Hegemony have failed, but no provocation of any sort with be met with force. I repeat, we will not engage with any batarian aggressor without thorough investigation. Tensions are high and thus requires our diligence more than our passion."]
Anderson gestured to the Commander at his left.
["Our other item to discuss, is Commander Annelise Shepard. First, I would like to dispel any rumors regarding the Commander's presence at HQ. She is being held as a special consultant and not under formal arrest."]
Mary sneezed loudly and unconvincingly. Sam turned to see Dietrich also watching the news. Sniffling dramatically, Mary rolled her eyes. "Sorry. I have a bullshit allergy. It happens whenever I watch the ANN." Sam chuckled, but she was still curious. Now, now.
["Her actions over the past few months have been under careful review. It should be noted that Commander Shepard turned herself and her ship, the SSV Normandy SR-2, over to the Alliance willingly. She submitted herself and her crew to our scrutiny, and fully confessed her behaviors over the past five months."]
Anderson shifted at the podium and turned to study the contrite Shepard briefly. He cleared his throat and continued. ["Her whereabouts for the previous two years, however, have been deemed classified and will not be discussed at this time."]
"See? I told you. It's always bullshit," Dietrich griped. Her voice got higher in a sarcastic impression. "'Oh, we're going to tell you the whole truth and nothing but the truth! …unless it's inconvenient. Or embarrassing. Or will hurt Admiral Buttsnuggles' feelings!'"
Sam sighed. Mary was right, sometimes.
Plus Admiral Buttsnuggles is just too sensitive. Silly git.
["Shepard's involvement with the terrorist organization known as Cerberus is still under review. But the Commander is to be commended for her actions. Shepard and her crew are the first to make it through the Omega-4 Relay in the Omega Nebula and return successfully. She has turned the base of the alien race known as the Collectors over to the Alliance for study. Our teams have already made incredible discoveries from examining the Collectors' technology."]
"Holy shit," Corday uttered behind them. The engineering specialist, usually deeply absorbed in his work with the music in his ear piece at maximum, was watching along with the rest of the QEC R&D team. "…they found the Collector homebase?"
Samantha agreed. It was pretty unbelievable. And it made her a little happy. The small vengeful part of her hoped they were dissecting the Collectors like frogs. To punish them for what they did to Horizon. And Cyrene, Fehl Prime, Ferris Fields, Freedom's Progress, and New Canton.
Never forget.
["The reason the Commander was investigating the Collectors was to protect the Alliance's colonies. It has been determined that the Collectors were behind the recent abductions of entire human colonies, including the failed attempt on Horizon. Shepard intervened directly, and with the assistance of Lieutenant Commander Ashley Williams, the Collectors were repelled and later destroyed."]
Sam felt three sets of eyes on her as she turned around in her chair. Then the questions came all at once: "You saw Shepard?" "Oh, man! I bet she kicked Collector ass!" "What was it like?"
Discomfort swelled up from Sam's chest, locking her tongue in place. So much for skirting around the tough questions. I was hoping they'd give me at least a day or two before the tactless probing would start. It turned the discomfort into rage. The panicky feeling grew taut before suddenly snapping. She jumped up from her seat.
"Oh, you want to know all about the worst day of my entire life? Get your collective panties soaked hearing all the details of how I nearly lost my mother? How about when my friend and I were trying to get away, and the swarm got us? Do you want to know what it's like being a prisoner in your own body while a nightmare gets ever closer? And you pray for death over whatever it is they have in store? Is that it?!"
Sam was shrieking by the end of it, and her clenched fists were shaking at her sides. The three other comms specialists were frozen into place before mumbling soft apologies.
"So no, I did not see Commander bloody Shepard on Horizon. I wish I had. Because I can never thank her enough."
Sitting slowly back down in her chair, Samantha swiveled around to catch the end of Admiral Anderson's closing remarks. She felt hot tears pricking the back of her eyes, and resolutely refused to turn around. Her heart still pounded from the confrontation. Something she always hated, accidentally or on purpose.
Let them be uncomfortable.
["—er Shepard's ship, the SSV Normandy SR-2, will become a flagship in the Alliance's efforts for galactic peace. I will personally be overseeing the ship's retrofitting into an advanced command center, and taking the helm when she is deemed ready for action. And, if the Alliance will allow it, I would be honored to have Commander Shepard serve aboard the Normandy to continue her efforts as an exemplary marine."]
The Admiral took a step back, signaling the end of the conference. He held both his palms outward, trying to push back the sea of questions being lobbed at him. Anderson simply turned on his heel and strode purposefully back into the side entrance, as the other ranking officers followed suit. The screen panned back over to Shepard, who finally looked up from her quiet, mascot-like place at the edge.
Samantha tapped the corner of the view screen to pause the image. She ignored the squawk of irritation from Emerson to study the telly. Commander Shepard. This is the woman who saved my life. She seemed almost… ordinary. The red hair was certainly unusual. She had a sprinkling of freckles on her nose and cheeks. Full lips. The bold blue uniform was pretty standard. Certainly attractive, but…
It was the eyes that got Sam. She had paused at just the moment when Shepard stole a quick glance directly at the viewer. The human SpecTRe was otherwise contrite and uninteresting the entire press conference. But in that split second, her green eyes were on fire. She was issuing a nonverbal challenge. Go to hell if you don't agree with me, that look said.
It was equal parts fascinating and terrifying.
It also sparked a memory. A very recent one.
The Normandy SR-2? Isn't that...? Sam jumped back into her email inbox and reread the remaining correspondence from earlier. The Normandy SR-2. The job. That woman wants me to help the Normandy. Shepard's Normandy. The ship that saved my life.
Studying the email from Lieutenant Vanessa Ventura for the 50th time, Samantha slowly pecked out a reply. Her finger hesitated over the "Send" prompt. She was terrified. She liked things to be reasonable, rationale, and simple. What she was about to do was none of those things.
Fifteen to one odds it's a sweatshop. Nine to one odds it's a trick and you'll really be installing a QEC dish in some rear admiral's mistress's house. Four to one it's a boring desk job checking off boxes for compliance.
Two to one odds it'll change your life forever.
["To: Lt Ventura, Vanessa C
Subject: Re: Job Offer #N2-00341
After much consideration, I have decided to accept your offer, ma'am.
I look forward to working on the SSV Normandy SR-2 as soon as possible.
Lt Traynor, Samantha K
Senior Communications Specialist
Arcturus Station
601.3.7088.9-D2"]
Ren's Other Note:
This is the list of words I could use: smelly socks, soaked, lemon curd, terrified, Buttsnuggles, chess, accent, toothbrush, bloody!, allergy, strategy game, (not) my type, robot fetishist, I have no problem getting cozy, I play for keeps, and princess.
*I know shockingly little about chess, other than the pieces' names and rules. Our dear friend Wikipedia is where I get my info for the more subtle bits, like strategies and all that.
Edit: Reviewer boomboomk9000 has called me out on my shameful misuse of lemon curd. I have upgraded it to be a love of lemon curd tarts.
Also: I WON THE CONTEST. First place! Hooray!