"Williams..." Berhard's voice was a low rasp, his throat still raw from the tube they'd stuck down his throat to help him breathe during surgery. Ash glanced down at him as they waited in the airlock - Chakwas, Sherazi, herself, and Berhard on the stretcher. As soon as the airlock cycled he'd be handed off to an ambulance which would transport him to the major military hospital on Arcturus. A few surgeries and reconstructions and Chakwas seemed confident he'd make enough a recovery to return to the Normandy.

Ash worried that the flicker of disappointment she felt about that made her bad at this whole leading thing. She shouldn't want any Marine to be hurt enough they couldn't return to their unit, but he'd been a mighty pain in her ass.

"You're gonna be fine, Gunny," she said, trying to tamp down on her feelings. "Your family's waiting."

"Listen," he came close to snapping. His weathered face was still ashen. She bit down on her instinctual irritation - he'd got shot, and he'd warned the rest of them. The cloaked Cerbie could've hosed a couple more of them if he hadn't. She could listen to him for a couple of minutes until the Navy medics took him to hospital.

"I'm listening."

"I was wrong," he said bluntly. Each word was laboured. "You're good at your job. I made things harder. Worried you just got those bars for shooting Saren. Stupid. Judged before I had all the evidence." He rubbed at his sweaty forehead. "I'm...sorry."

Ashley blinked in surprise. "...thanks, Gunny. Just focus on getting better. We'll just...start over, once you're back, alright? Clean slate."

He raised his hand, the IV still stuck in the back, and they shook on it. The airlock door hissed open.

"Please step back, Lieutenant," Chakwas said. Her voice was mild, but there was a steeliness there, an order. Ashley backed out of the way and watched as they wheeled her team sergeant out of the Normandy and onto the dock, towards the waiting ambulance.

"An apology from Berhard," a voice observed behind her. She looked over her shoulder at Shepard. The MAAs and a couple of Marines were busy shepherding the gaggle of captured Cerberus 'civilians' towards unmarked AIS cars - the few they'd gotten the cyanide capsules out of. "We should check if hell has frozen over."

"Guess getting shot sorts out your priorities," Ashley replied. She wanted to take Shepard to some quiet room somewhere and get her to open up. Talk. For all her walls, Shepard knew how to talk to her.

Right?

"Guess so," Shepard was unsmiling. "Come on. We're doing the transfer ceremony for the General."

Fifteen minutes later the crew of the SSV Normandy SR1 lined up in two rows at the bottom of the ship's ramp. The artificial white light shattered off shined buttons and boots, sank into the dark of the Normandy's hull and the deep blue of the Alliance flag draped over the transfer case. The bearers, all of them Marines from Kahoku's Second Marine Division, carried their general carefully down the ramp, boots ringing against metal.

"Present…ARMS!"

Ashley's hand rose slowly as the bearers passed her. The whole cavernous docking bay was silent except for their footsteps. They pushed the transfer case into the waiting ambulance, closing the doors behind it and stepped back. The ambulance hummed to life, rising gently from the ground and pointing its blunt nose deeper into the station.

"Dismissed!"

Her feet took her to Shepard's side almost without thought.

Shepard shook her head. "What a bloody waste."

"He was a good man."

"The sort we could've used when the Reapers come."

When, not if.

"Shepard…"

"Come on. We've got a job to do." Shepard replied, all cool business. She strode up and into the Normandy's cargo bay, eyes fixed on the armoury.

The irritation that'd been building since the drop on Nepheron ratcheted up another notch in Ash's chest as she followed her. "There's time to talk about this."

Shepard frowned at her, even as she reached for her pistol on the bench. "There's nothing to talk about."

"You're upset."

"I'm fine. I just want to arrest Erebus as soon as possible."

"Sure," Ash scoffed.

Shepard's expression sharpened. "I don't need a counselor or a babysitter right now. I need my Marine Detachment Commander."

Stung, Ashley turned to her own weapons. "Aye, ma'am."

Shepard flinched. "Ash…"

"So small team taking Erebus down?" Coyle appeared so abruptly Ash jumped. Goddamn N7 ninjas.

"Yeah. The three of us do the arrest while the other Marines stand by as a QRF." When Shepard's eyes met Ash's, there was a question there.

"Sounds good to me, Skipper. I'll let Draven know." Frustrated or not, she wasn't going to let Shepard and Coyle walk into arresting a goddamn government minister without her.

"Commander Shepard, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Shepard had made the decision to call on Leigh Godfrey at her office, rather than at Parliament. The latter had far too many important people in a small space for her peace of mind if things became violent, and with Cerberus, she wasn't taking any chances. The soldiers from the Protective Services Battalion hadn't been particularly pleased when she'd brought weapons into a meeting with the Minister for Defence, but she was a Spectre and the Saviour of the Citadel.

She studied Godfrey's open expression, looking for…something. She'd seen what she'd wanted to see before - someone who didn't think she was crazy. An ally.

Guess that's what I get for trusting a politician.

"You're under arrest," Shepard said flatly.

Godfrey blinked, the smile half sliding off her face, "Excuse me?"

Shepard tapped her omnitool and the Minister's home office filled with her own voice as the recovered footage played. All the colour fled from Godfrey's face.

"You're a traitor," Shepard said, low and deadly, "and a murderer, as far as I'm concerned. Come quietly, and I won't fucking shoot you for it."

"Listen to me, Commander," the Minister pleaded, "it's not what you think. I've never given up Alliance secrets - I've only helped Cerberus procure experiment samples and helped them avoid detection, that's all. Humanity is surrounded by enemies - and we both know the Reapers are coming. Project Ophion was to give us the weapons to survive, that's all. You've seen what Sovereign was capable of - can you honestly say that humanity is prepared?"

She couldn't.

"Cerberus believes you about the Reapers. I know you've suffered at the hands of a Cerberus cell before, and I'm truly sorry for that, but the Illusive Man has the same goal you do - the survival of the human species. I've known the man for years. We were both AIS agents, once, and I can assure you he has only the benefit of our species at heart."

"I am a Council Spectre. My goal is the survival of the galaxy." She would always uphold the oath she'd sworn to protect humanity, but some things were bigger. She'd known that, standing in the Council Tower with millions of lives hanging on her decisions.

"Can you really turn down anything that might give us an edge?" Godfrey lifted her chin, apparently unafraid in the face of the three armed people in her office.

"What about the recon team? Kahoku?" Ash snapped, brown eyes burning with smoldering anger. The murders had been a betrayal, and if there was one thing that Ashley Williams couldn't abide, it was that.

"All wars require sacrifice. I didn't give those orders lightly - any more than when I give an order for a N7 strike in the Terminus."

"If you can't fucking see the difference, there's something fucked in your head," the Marine spat.

"Ash," Shepard murmured, and she subsided.

"Walk out of this room, Commander, and we'll pretend this never happened." The Minister raised her chin. "You and your…friends here will be duly compensated, and I will bring you into the research projects so that your own anti-Reaper efforts can benefit. We can work together, Shepard, and protect the people we are both sworn to serve."

Shepard's jaw clenched. "There's not enough bribery nor justifications to make what you've done disappear, Erebus. You're under arrest."

"I'm sorry to hear that, Commander Shepard."

Shepard heard the thump of a tech grenade detonation in the split second before a vice clamped down around her skull, driving all thoughts except pain out of her head. Her muscles locked until they felt like they might tear from bones, the implant embedded beneath her skin erupting into white heat. Her knees buckled, the pistol dropping from her nerveless fingers, and she hit the expensive floorboards face first. Something crunched and Shepard tasted blood at the back of her mouth.

Someone nudged her onto her side and methodical hands removed her pistol, back up, amp, and knife. The room spun, and she closed her eyes against it, clinging grimly to consciousness.

"You took your damned time," Godfrey said crossly and Shepard heard the click of her heels against the wood over the roaring in her ears.

"I've been busy, thanks to you." The male voice was smooth and cold, like melting ice.

"I'm not going to Alliance prison for this. For trying to help my people!" Godfrey snapped. "The Illusive Man must have an exit plan for me."

"You're a diplomat and a politician whose country will no longer trust her," the man said, his voice dripping with ugly amusement. "What use are you to him?"

Shepard felt a flicker of grim satisfaction as she struggled to wriggle her fingers. She'd ruined Godfrey at least.

"I have other skills. He will forgive me if I bring him Shepard."

Oh hell no. She wasn't getting captured by damned terrorists!

"Ah."

Shepard pried her eyelids open. Her vision swarm but she focused on the man towering above her. Broad shoulders, black hair growing out of a military cut, square jaw. Hahne-Kedar M5 pistol in a holster strapped to his thigh.

Must've used a cloak. Infiltration training. Got sloppy, got too caught up in her arguments. He's good though. Can't underestimate him.

"I will go organise our exit off the station if you think you can handle killing those two and transporting Shepard," Godfrey snapped.

"Whatever you say, Erebus."

No. No no no. Coyle and Ashley were slumped either side of her, unmoving. Unable to defend themselves. She'd asked them to come with her. They were her people, and Cerberus wasn't taking any more of them from her.

The man kicked Ashley in the side as Leigh Godfrey shut the door behind her. The Marine didn't make a sound. Her face was slack, a few strands of escaped dark hair sticking to her face. He drew his pistol and checked the heatsink was seated properly. Pointed it at Ash's head.

Not her. Not her.

A cold lance of fear transfixed her chest, sharper than the pain that still wound her muscles to the point of breaking. Perhaps it was the sheer bloody-mindedness that had gotten her through the excruciating trials of ICT. Perhaps it was love-fuelled desperation. Either way, Shepard somehow forced herself to move, get her feet under her.

She slammed into his side, hard, shoving his gun hand aside. It went off, like thunder in her ears, shattering the Minister's window. She hooked a foot around his ankles, and they both went down, the gun skittering away under the desk. The impact forcibly expelled all the air in her chest.

"You just don't know when to stay down, huh?" His fist drove the breath from her lungs and he squirmed from under her, his grip painfully twisting her wrist. "It's nothing personal - and besides, you'll see it our way soon enough. No more alien fucking for you, Commander."

She aimed an ineffectual blow at his throat, but there was no strength in her free hand.

Perhaps Sovereign would have the last laugh after all. The injury inflicted by its downfall leading to hers.

"You're the best humanity has to offer, huh?" He twisted her arm more, enough that she could feel how close he was to breaking her arm.

Her scrabbling fingers touched something jutting from his belt. Quick as a snake she drew his own combat knife from the sheath and stabbed down with as much strength as her damaged left hand could muster. Biting deep into the flesh of his thigh.

He shouted in rage and pain, losing his grip on her arm as he staggered back, clamping a hand over the jagged wound she'd carved in his leg. His flailing dislodged the bloody knife from her grip, sending it ringing to the ground beside Coyle's slowly stirring form. She forced herself to her feet with a snarl.

His teeth were bared. Most men, even most soldiers, would've been afraid after being stabbed. But something like what drove her kept him on his feet, something calculating in his expression. The bluster was gone.

He went for the gun. Shepard kicked out savagely, booted foot impacting the side of his knee, forcing it inwards with a sickening pop. He swore as it buckled, and then she was on him, slamming his head into the edge of the Minister's desk. He groaned, dazed, an elbow strike bouncing off her shoulder. Her fingers were in that just-there-length of his hair. She slammed his head down again. And again.

And again.

Until he stopped moving, his skull caved in like a cracked egg. Breathing hard, Shepard shoved her pistol back into her holster, fumbled a few times getting her amp back in. There was blood on her hands, down the front of her uniform jacket. Her head throbbed.

"Shepard," Coyle groaned, staggering to his feet, clutching his head. "Damn, you sure took care of him."

She ignored him and the corpse both, dropping to her knees beside Ashley. She was still, but something released in Shepard's chest when she felt for her pulse and found it, strong beneath her fingers.

"Williams got in front of that grenade," Coyle observed, slowly getting to his feet and fetching his SMG, "took the worst of it. She might be out for a bit longer."

"We need to get her back to the ship." She brushed a lock of hair out of Ash's face. A purpling bruise was forming on her cheekbone. She knew the older N7 could probably see right through her - see how much Ash meant to her - but she couldn't find it in herself to care. For a moment there she'd thought she was about to watch her die.

"I need to get her to the ship," Coyle said firmly. "You need to go after Godfrey."

He was right, and she hated him a little for it.

"Fine. Keep her safe." She grabbed her own combat knife and secondary where the stranger had put them. "Think Godfrey was telling the truth? About not giving up Alliance secrets?"

Coyle shrugged. He'd turned Ashley onto her side and was checking her over for any injuries from her fall. "If she didn't, it's just another reason to catch her. She's got no reasons not to tell them now."

Shepard pushed open the office door, pistol in hand. Her face hurt like a bitch - her nose was surely broken - and her biotics felt slippery, sluggish. She could only hope that the Neural Shock hadn't done any real damage to her implant.

Or to her girlfriend, for that matter.

She opened a comm channel to Pressly as she ran, eyes watering. "Pressly, I need you to get the Normandy ready to depart."

"Is everything alright ma'am?"

Shepard vaulted over the corpse of one of Godfrey's plain-clothed guards. He'd been shot in the back of the head, brain matter splattered on expensive carpet. Poor bastards. What a fucking mess, all of it. "There have been some complications - I'm pursuing Godfrey, but I think she's headed to the docks and her private vessel. I need the Normandy in play."

"I'll get our girl out of the docks."

"Good man. I'll try to stop her on the station, but if I can't...I want you to make sure that she doesn't reach the Arcturus Relay, no matter what you have to do. Do you understand?"

There was a pause as Shepard found herself in the twisting tunnels that made up Arcturus' residential areas. It was all high ranking bureaucrats and politicians who lived in this warren of spacious apartments - those who didn't commute from sunny Benning. She bumped into a woman coming out of her apartment who gasped - at the blood on her face, hands, and uniform, or the gun in hand, she wasn't sure. Not like she was going to stop for questions.

"I understand, Commander," Pressly said, a hint of steel in his voice. There was the man she'd needed during the Battle of the Citadel, the man who'd commanded the Normandy when she'd killed the machine god.

"Shepard out."

"We're all on the same page of 'this is crazy,' right?" asked Joker's co-pilot uneasily. The Normandy lurked in the dark bordering Arcturus Station, framed by glittering streams of ship traffic. It wasn't quite the horde of ships that always surrounded the Citadel, but the space around the Alliance capital was always thick with freighters, warships, and yachts. Their request - backed by Shepard's Spectre credentials - to loiter near the civilian docks had been met with confused acquiescence from Arcturus Control.

No, Arcturus wasn't the Citadel, but Joker felt a certain satisfaction whenever he visited the station. Not just because it was home or some high ideals about it being a symbol of what humanity could do when it wasn't held back by the homeworld's bloody history. His mother had helped build it, and now she was one of the department heads at the Station Maintenance Authority. Sometimes he thought she loved the station as much as she did her children. She'd stayed when her marriage broke down and his dad had taken himself off to a little agri-colony in the Traverse, where he'd met a farmer and had Gunny. Joker had been 14 and very bitter, but he got it now. He got it every time he looked at the Normandy.

He'd been planning to have dinner with her before Pressly had recalled him to the bridge. It'd have to wait. Luckily she got it.

"Come on, Frag," Joker shot back. "Mutinying was crazy. Driving a Mako through a Relay was crazy. This isn't even in Shepard's Greatest Hits of Crazy."

"We're talking about a Minister," she fretted.

"We're talking about a traitor," Pressly corrected from over Joker's shoulder, scowling. "One we're not letting get through the Relay and into Cerberus hands with a head full of Alliance military secrets. Lives depend on us, Frag, and if you're not up for it I don't want you on my bridge."

Grenado blanched. "I'm good, sir."

"Just trust Shepard," he said gruffly, "she's gotten us through worse than this."

"Yessir."

"Shepard to Normandy."

"Go ahead, Shepard," Pressly replied.

"I did my best, but she was too far ahead of me. She's leaving the station aboard the Hydra private shuttle. See if you can board her."

"Understood, Commander. We're in pursuit. Nilsson, have you got a bead on the Hydra's transponder?"

"Yessir. On your screen."

"Thank you, Nav. Joker, get us on an intercept trajectory. Lam, clear the space around us. I don't want to hit any freighters."

"As if I would," Joker complained as he swung the Normandy around and hit the thrusters, the ship leaping forward and after the tiny blinking light of Godfrey's sports shuttle. Lam was transmitting a message to surrounding ships that boiled down to 'Spectre business, get the fuck outta here.'

"Torpedo tubes one through six manned and ready," Wulandri's voice crackled. Joker had grown accustomed to their CSO being in the CIC, but now they actually had a navigator she was back in Main Gunnery, leaving Nilsson to take over as tactical actions officer. He didn't enjoy the change - at least Wulandri had a sense of humour and didn't throw around her seniority like a cattle prod.

The Normandy gained on the Hydra, her anti-proton thrusters eating up the kilometres of space between them in a long, blue burn like a falcon swooping on a songbird. Even top of the line sports shuttles couldn't outrun this warship.

Joker was used to battles fought over thousands of kilometres if not tens of thousands. The space around Arcturus and between the two was far more compact - there was no room for error, not with Joker's piloting or Wulandri's shooting if it came down to it. A stray torpedo could put a hole in a cruise liner or a passenger shuttle from Benning.

"Hydra, this is Alliance warship Normandy. Heave to, I intend to board you." Pressly's voice was strong, steady. Like he chased down Alliance politicians turned terrorists all the time.

"No response," Lam observed unnecessarily.

The Normandy hung off the Hydra's stern and to her port, a tenacious predator close enough to taste blood. Lam's announcements over the shipping frequencies had succeeded - there was a blank space around them, free from the glittering transponders of civilian and Navy shipping. They'd probably caused the controllers some migraines.

"Hydra, this is Alliance warship Normandy. Heave to or I will fire upon you."

There was a held breath on the bridge, but no response was forthcoming.

Pressly breathed out noisily. Shepard's orders hung over him, but it was his finger on the trigger. It was times like these that Joker was happy he was just the pilot - and all the way down at sixth on the ship's chain of command.

"We can't," Nilsson protested, "that's a civilian vessel. We're in a shipping lane."

Pressly didn't turn, but glancing back, Joker could see his frown deepen. "It's a terrorist vessel, Nav - if she gets away, who knows what she might divulge to Cerberus? And I have a Spectre's orders. If you wish to protest, remove yourself from the bridge, and I will note it in the ship's log."

Nilsson didn't move.

Joker eased the ship behind the shuttle, eating up the kilometres. Wulandri could make this shot in her sleep, but best not to leave anything to chance when surrounded by civilians.

"Tactical, lock target main thrusters, Torpedo Tube One."

"Target locked main thrusters, Torpedo Tube One."

"Target vessel is slowing," Nilsson called hastily. "They're stopping!"

Joker heard Pressly release a heavy breath of air, but then the old bastard was all business again, reaching for the 1MC button. "Hands to boarding stations, hands to boarding stations." His hand gripped the back of Joker's chair. "Take us in, Joker, nice and steady."

He eased his baby closer and closer, metre by metre, ready to hit the thrusters if Cerberus pulled any of their crazy bullshit. But there was nothing. Just the clanking of the docking tube mating with the shuttle's airlock.

Joker leant back in his seat, tugging on his hat. His part was over. It was up to the Marines now - and without their commander, lieutenant, and gunny. Good thing Gung Ho Draven could probably crack coconuts with her biceps.

"You found them like this?" Lieutenant Ashley Williams' head throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Whatever that motherfucker in Godfrey's office had hit her with had been something alright. She felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to her skull.

"Yep." Gung Ho crossed her arms, still encased in the glossy black casing of Raider armour, and raised an eyebrow. Code for no shit, ma'am. "Cutting unarmed peoples' throats ain't my idea of a good time, Boss."

"Bitch," Ash muttered under her breath, and her friend laughed in response.

The Hydra lived up to her luxury tag - those were real leather seats over there and real wood panels on the wall. Extravagance in this day and age. The expensive decor was at odds with its residents, now laying in a tangle of unnaturally positioned limbs and glassy eyes.

Leigh Godfrey and her private pilot were both dead, bloody smiles carved across their throats.

Dead.

Shepard had sounded almost disappointed when Draven had called it through. Maybe she'd wanted to bash their heads in like she had the man in Godfrey's office.

Your girlfriend left a bit of a mess, Coyle had said and laughed at the way Ash's face had whitened. He wasn't in the Navy anymore, he'd told her. He didn't give a fuck anymore. Their choices were theirs - and so were the consequences. Then he'd thrown her arm over his shoulder and helped her to the bullet fast tram lines that serviced most of Arcturus.

Ash turned at the sound of Shepard's footsteps and winced. She looked worse than Ash felt - dried blood on her uniform and two black eyes. "Shit, Skipper."

"The other guy is worse," she said matter of factly, stepped past the two Marines to peer down at the bodies, the congealed blood. "Damnit."

"The shuttle was on auto-pilot," Draven said. "Must've been dead from the start."

"I was barely ten minutes behind them. Cerberus sure is quick at tying up their loose ends."

"They wanted us to find her," Ash surmised.

"The question is - why?" Shepard knelt beside the Minister's still form, feeling for her omnitool. That was when a small, oscillating ball of light popped up from the shuttle's dash and whipped towards them. One of Ash's hands grabbed Shepard - still unarmoured - and pulled her back behind her, and the other pulled her M5 out of her holster.

There was a now familiar buzz of energy around her as Shepard forced out a barrier in front of the three of them. The ball stopped - and now Ash saw it for what it was over the barrel of a gun. It was some kind of tiny drone, small enough to fit in her cupped hands.

She very nearly just shot it.

The holoprojector flickered and formed into the figure of a man. Expensive suit, greying hair, cigarette pinched between two fingers. Strange eyes - an intelligent, glittering blue that seemed more cybernetic than natural.

Looks like an asshole, Ash decided immediately as she reluctantly lowered her pistol.

"Commander Shepard." His voice was calm and confident.

Shepard's dark eyes looked him up and down as she dropped the barrier. "I take it you're this 'Illusive Man.' Bit of a stupid name, if you ask me."

"Good thing I didn't." He smiled, but there was no humour in it. He reminded Ash of a coiled snake, ready to strike. She half wanted to push Shepard behind her again. Draven shifted, uncomfortable. "I wanted to take this opportunity to speak with you."

"After tying up loose ends?" Shepard asked dryly.

"So much for knowing you," Ash muttered.

He seemed unperturbed, tapping ash off the end of the cigarette. "All of my agents know their lives may be required for humanity's salvation."

"You really think Cerberus is going to save humanity?" Shepard's voice practically dripped skepticism. "It took a whole bunch of dreadnoughts and cruisers to take down Sovereign. I doubt a few terrorist attacks are going to phase the fucking Reapers like they do the blinks."

"Cerberus doesn't have dreadnoughts, this is true," the Illusive Man conceded, "but we can still do things that the Alliance can't or won't. The late Minister Godfrey was on your side in the ways that mattered, Commander - she was pushing for the recruitment, the technology, the ships we will need if we're to survive. I wonder if her successor will be as open to you and Hackett's arguments."

"And Project Ophion?"

Ash glanced over at her lover. She was wearing that impassive mask she'd seen so often in the first few months they'd known each other. Even now she didn't know exactly what she was thinking.

He took a long drag from his cigarette, the tip like a cherry of red light. "You've seen what the Reapers do, Shepard. We'll need to understand how their command and control protocols work - and we'll need shock troops of our own."

Shepard's eyes dropped to the dead man and woman on the deck, discarded like trash. "I suppose this is where you tell me that we have things in common and that humanity is best served by me helping you, never mind the innocent blood on your hands."

"The galaxy is a harsh and unwelcoming place, as you well know, Commander. Sometimes difficult decisions must be made."

"You killed my people," Shepard said very softly, the rasp of a knife being pulled from the sheath. "That's unforgivable. Plenty of motherfuckers have thought 'the ends justify the means' as carte blanche to commit atrocities."

"An unfortunately close-minded opinion, especially from a Spectre. You value your own anger over the survival of our species?"

"I value the ideals those Marines died for. The ideals that got humanity to where it is now."

"The Alliance is hardly the paragon organisation you might wish it to be." He seemed amused.

They'd talked about that - Ash and Shepard. About how loving the Alliance sometimes meant wishing it could be better. Trying to make it better. The galaxy being shitty isn't a reason to be an arsehole or give up, Shepard had told her once.

"Maybe not. But it's got a damned lot of good people trying their best. No," she shook her head, "you're just an upjumped terrorist with delusions of grandeur. All you're getting from me is a hand grenade."

"A pity." He tapped out his cigarette. "I hope in the future you'll focus your attention on the real threat - the Reapers."

The holo winked out, and the drone sparked violently, clattering to the ground.

"Did a terrorist organisation just try to recruit you, ma'am?" asked Gung Ho, sounding a bit lost.

"Yep," Shepard popped the word. "I'm going to wring his scrawny neck one day."

"I'd hold him down for you," Ash said and touched her arm. She tried not to feel stung - and failed - when the other woman pulled away.

"Don't touch anything," Shepard said briskly as she turned away, heading towards the airlock. "The Investigative Service will want to take a look."

A/N: Thanks for the review, as always, anon!

I;m going to be updating even more than weekly over the next couple of weeks because I'd like to get this done before I leave for my Christmas holiday. Not sure how much writing I'll get done when lounging on the beach!