The strategy room was too full for Garrus' comfort, although he did have the benefit of his own father's presence. Antilles Vakarian had arrived with Primarch Victus, capable and ready to do his part. It was nice being in a room with his dad without the explosive pyrotechnic arguments that characterized so many of their previous interactions.

The room was full of the leadership, the planners, the people who would handle organizing their teams, their assets, their part in the upcoming plan. At the far end were Shepard and Anderson, alternately explaining the diversionary teams (Monkey Wrench, one through four), the infiltration teams (Stiletto, one through four) and the main distraction, Hammer One. The hope was that if the Reapers heard 'Hammer One' they would assume it was part of a series.

"And she's not taking you?" Antilles asked quietly.

"She wants me coordinating turian assets," Garrus answered with equal quietude. The hope was also that if the people coordinating were used to working together, it would cut friction when disparate assets started working together. It sounded great in theory, but it also deprived Shepard of half her usual team.

"You usually go where she does."

"Yeah." Tell him about it.

Antilles gave his son the kind of deprecating look he always used when Garrus missed a detail. The familiarity of it left Garrus grinning. "Wipe that smirk off," Antilles huffed. "Do you really think this Reaper won't wonder why you're suddenly not around?"

Garrus tried (and failed) to wipe the smirk off…until Antilles pointed out this glaring possibility. Then the smirk disappeared. "That's…"

"Going to be a problem," Antilles finished, crossing his arms and scowling as he considered.

Garrus returned his attention—or part of it—to the briefing at hand.

What if Harbinger noticed that the usual blue turian armor wasn't somewhere in Shepard's vicinity?

One of the things he'd learned at C-Sec was that when operating undercover one of the surest ways to blow your cover was to start doing things you normally wouldn't do. Would his absence be enough to give Harbinger reason to think something was amiss?

He needed to talk to Shepard.

"Shepard won't change her mind about where she wants you?" Antilles asked after several long minutes.

Garrus shook his head. Shepard was sure of her project, sure of the needs of the project to ensure its success. She wouldn't change her mind over needing one more body on Hammer One.

"I've got an idea. She might not like it. I know you won't."

Garrus leaned a little closer to his father. "It's more than I've got. What is it?"

"Switch armor with me."

Garrus turned to his father, blinking in not quite non-comprehension. "Do what?"

Antilles gave him another deprecating look, beneath which was a kind of fatalistic acceptance. "One armored-up turian looks very like another, even to another turian," Antilles pointed out. "Switch armor with me; I'll go in your place. Harbinger sees a blue-armored turian maverick with Shepard, it doesn't start asking awkward questions."

"Dad—" Garrus looked at his father. True, they were built along the same lines, could probably even pull an armor swap…but quite apart from being partial to his own armor, he didn't like the idea of his father on Hammer One any more than Shepard liked the idea of Anderson there.

"Launch phrase will be 'tool box.' Thank you very much," Anderson concluded. "We'll be in touch."

With that, the room broke into a hum of discussion, argument, and conversation.

"Dad," Garrus began again, his bead buzzing.

"You said you didn't have any better ideas. Are you willing to take that kind of risk with this kind of plan? Because I've got to tell you, it's not a fabulous plan, it's just the only plan and has the 'go ahead' stamp from our preeminent Reaper-killer. That stamp does not a good plan make."

"Shepard knows what she's doing," Garrus answered firmly.

"And she's one person who has a lot of little details on her mind. One of those details has finally slipped her notice. It happens," Antilles argued. Then, in a softer, more understanding tone, which Garrus was not used to hearing from his father, "Turians are made to run; wouldn't you rather have someone like that a little closer to your friend the moving target?"

Garrus pulled his mandibles so tightly against his chin he began to think he might sprain one. He hated it when his dad was right like this. The answer was yes; if someone had to drag Shepard off the run-up because Harbinger got in a lucky shot—assuming there was any of her left to scoop up—he'd rather be on hand to do it. Barring himself, his dad was the next logical choice. "I don't like this idea." He sighed, then shook his head. "But I'm not liking a lot of the ideas today. Come on, let's get changed over. Sounds like Hammer One is still picking its time, so we could have two minutes, we could have two days."

Antilles threaded his way out of the room, Garrus following in his wake. They ended up changing in the infirmary, as it was the least crowded space in that part of the Underground the Resistance was using as a headquarters. It felt strange to see his blue armor on someone else. It felt stranger to know he was literally filling his father's boots. Strange, and slightly uncomfortable. "You might let Shepard know about the switch so it doesn't catch her off guard."

"One turian looks like another, remember?" Antilles smirked before putting on the helmet. "As long as I don't say anything—"

"She'll know the minute you walk into the room," Garrus smiled fondly. "I've been next to her for fifty missions; she doesn't need to see my face, she knows how I move." Also, Antilles was carrying his rifle, not Garrus'.

Antilles cocked his head, the chuckled. "Care to bet on that?"

"Absolutely. Whatever you want."