Grace Wright's page

Grace takes careful aim, keeping the leftmost attacker [in her sights] as she fires off a round.

Guns: 4d3 - 8 + 4 + 2 ⇒ (2, 3, 2, 1) - 8 + 4 + 2 = 6

Damage if successful: 5; Disruptor Ammo: if 2 or more rolls are [+], target is stunned and primed for tech burst

"Ah! A lesson in subtle diplomacy from Miss Harper and Mister Iskios." Dern draws his weapon and dives for cover.

"That's one way to put it..."

Grace smoothly takes cover behind a support column and draws a bead on one of the three attackers.

"On my mark."

Does Dern need a round to make an aim maneuver, or can he just start shooting? My plan is to have Grace and Dern take out two of the three simultaneously.

Grace nods to the woman as courteously as she can, given the circumstances, while making her way to the elevators as quickly as possible. Once aboard, she turns to Dern, looking grateful.

"I really, really owe you one," she says quietly.

Alertness: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (3, 2, 1, 1) - 8 + 2 = 1

The woman draws herself up to her full petite height as the two of you approach.

Grace puts on her best friendly smile, giving the woman a small wave and doing her level best to appear as non-threatening as possible given the circumstances.

"I'm Deputy Wright, and this," she says, gesturing to her companion, "is Deputy Dern, ERCS Security. We've had some reports of a disturbance on the upper floors, and it would be a big help to us if you'd let us use this elevator."

Grace uses her Rapport skill to Overcome the obstacle:

Rapport: 4d3 - 8 + 3 ⇒ (1, 2, 2, 1) - 8 + 3 = 1

It's the best I've got... at least I have a hard copy of the Fate rules to look through now...

Alertness: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (1, 3, 2, 3) - 8 + 2 = 3

You can tell the first woman is kind of ignoring you and looking at Zinnius. The second woman is very much unused to weapons in her day to day life. If anyone is going to give you grief its probably her. From what you see now that you are inside there are probably more elevators throughout the building, but the ones the rough customers from earlier probably used are behind the second woman.

Dern, not known for being particularly aware nor socially adept, looks to Grace for queues on how to proceed.

Grace nods in the direction of the first set of elevators.

"That way," she says quietly to Dern.

As they begin to walk into the lobby, Grace turns to him again. "I think our guests took the other set of elevators, but it'll be easier to get through the lobby this way. Once we're on our way up, you think you could figure out where to go next, yeah? Might need to hack the elevator to get to a private floor..." she whispers.

Alertness: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (2, 2, 2, 2) - 8 + 2 = 2

Do both reception areas lead to the elevators?

”Hmm. Even I know that sometimes an artillery blast is a poor choice, as much as it pains me to say. We could rush to the elevators, and I could attempt to hack any technological surveillance on the way. Ordinarily that would not be a terribly effective strategy - and it certainly will not help with any security staff who sees us - but we can hope that security is too concerned with the commotion on the upper floor to notice our presence.”

Grace nods.

"Let's do it. If anyone says anything... I mean, we are technically ERCS deputies."

She begins to move toward the elevators.

social ones. Depends on how you want to run it. Slick and smooth? Intimidating and severe?

As they make their way toward the lobby, Grace turns to Dern.

"We don't have much time to work with here-- how do you want to play this?"

Grace Wright wrote:

How long will it take for Grace and Dern to make it to the hallway?

You'll certainly be stopped in the lobby unless you do some Burn Notice type stuff, but the elevators are right there. Need to make a few checks to get to the right floor, so...two turns tops?

What sort of checks?

How long will it take for Grace and Dern to make it to the hallway?

Dern looks at Grace. "Harper's last message suggested their may be trouble. Do we go in? We don't have disguises."

For a moment, Grace seems a bit lost, but as she opens her mouth to answer Dern, she hears the low rumbling sound of a biotic explosion from somewhere several floors above. Her eyes narrow, any trace of indecisiveness gone as she keys her omni-tool to "off" and reaches for her rifle.

"Screw it, let's go. I'll take point."

Outside the office complex, Grace glances at her omni-tool, then raises her gaze to meet Dern's eyes, a concerned expression on her face.

"Any idea what's going on? They've been out of contact for a bit..." she whispers.

”We should warn them. I do not think a frontal assault is advisable in this location - which is rare for me to say. But do we know they are after our team - or is something other than normal business going on here?”

The group makes a hard right as they go inside the building, and Grace swears they speak to someone, and Zinneus can confirm they use a passphrase: "Shepard was wrong" before disappearing down a hallway, any pretext at being a deliery person gone. You know that hustle.

"Hmmm... that's not good. Best stay extra sharp in case we need to mount a rescue."

Grace's hand reflexively moves away from her side slightly, ready to reach for the rifle holstered on her back at a moment's notice. However, she holds her position, still keeping an eye out for any trouble.

Alertness: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (1, 2, 3, 3) - 8 + 2 = 3

Downstairs, the remainder of the team remains in position, Zinnius and Grace watch the procession of food service workers going about their duties but Zinnius notices a few brief squelches of radio static that Grace notes synchronizes with a few human men a bit larger and rougher seeming than the average person making deliveries from seeming to walking faster and in tandem as they make their way to the entrance .

Grace nods slightly in the direction of the large human men, then speaks quietly to Dern:

"Pretty sure our infiltration team's been made. Think we can risk letting our people know, or should we try to handle this ourselves? This is more your area of expertise than mine..."

Alertness: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (3, 3, 3, 3) - 8 + 2 = 6

Though still incredibly ill at ease with her surroundings, Grace's military training takes over as she scans the area with a practiced eye.

Alertness roll, if needed: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (3, 2, 1, 1) - 8 + 2 = 1

Hestia nods. "Then it wouldn't be obvious that you were scanning the place, Theron. What are you guys going to do while Theron spies and I deliver lunches?"

"I'll keep an eye out for trouble."

Alertness roll?

"Some of these gig outfits will let pretty much anybody be an employee, if that is even the right word," Dern says.

Grace crosses her arms, looking apprehensive.

"Let's hope. Maybe we can hide our weapons in some packages while we make the infiltration. The sooner we get off this planet, the better..."

Alertness: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (1, 1, 3, 2) - 8 + 2 = 1

"I could try to pose as private security..." Grace muses, uncertainly.

"Isn't the usual method of gathering information to stop in a bar and buy drinks?" Hestia asks. "I've been trained more in blow-em-up tactics."

"I'll admit, this is pretty far from my area of expertise. Normally, I'd just ask around, but here it's a different story."

Theron looks up and whistles, "Well, now, that might be a challenge. Though, one advantage of mixed-use buildings like this is that we might be able to gain preliminary access by targeting something other than our quarry."

Grace narrows her eyes, looking at Theron.

"I know I'm going to regret asking this, but... what did you have in mind?"

Grace looks around at the team and their surroundings, appearing somewhat uncertain.

"Alright... from what I remember, if we want to get to Site: Phoebe, we'll have to find Reverend Building 5, Room 101 and look up someone called Dalton Young. I'll admit, though, information gathering isn't my strong suit, and we're all going to have to be extra careful coming up with a plan. What does everyone think?"

Grace steps forward.

"Sure thing, I appreciate your being so understanding under the circumstances. And like I said, let me know if there's anything we can do to help."

She keys her omni-tool to transfer the documents, then sends them back with her e-signature.

Hestia slips up next to Grace and whispers, "If they kick up a fuss, feel free to yell at me for insubordination and make nice with the aliens. I'll sulk."

In the meantime, she strains to overhear the turian.

Grace leans in toward the shorter woman and whispers a reply.

"Nah, this is on me. Thought I might be able to smooth things over, but I guess I'm a bit of a fish out of water here. If it comes down to it, though, we'll figure something out. Either way, thanks for having my back. I mean it."

Alertness: 4d3 - 8 + 2 ⇒ (3, 2, 3, 2) - 8 + 2 = 4

A particularly muscular turian in an already intimidating ERCS uniform steps out from his fellows and calls for the party to halt, meeting you halfway between the port and the security checkpoint. The trio of heavily armed women behind him lend an aire of authority to his request.

Theron watches them come, then whispers, "Well, that looks like a less than ideal start to things... Want me to try to disappear into another group, Sarge?"

As the group approaches the security detail, Grace whispers to Theron, making sure to look the man in the eye.

"No, we'll handle this. Make sure you stay well within sight."

Addressing the turian, Grace keeps her expression friendly, and makes a point of keeping her hands at her sides, fully in view of the security detail and away from her rifle. As she speaks, she gestures to her companions in turn.

"Afternoon, officers. I'm Sergeant Wright, Citadel Defence Force. With me are Specialist Dern, and Officers Iskios and Harper. I hope we're not keeping you from anything important, we're just here on a bit of business."

Attempting to SMOOTH OVER the situation, Grace flashes the turian officer a warm smile.

"By the way, is there any chance you could point the way to the closest duty-free shop? We've been aboard ship for weeks, and we're clean out for refreshments. Illium Gold Label elasa and Jim Beam Black, to be specific."

She shrugs.

"Since we're here, is there anything I can help you with?"

Rapport: 4d3 - 8 + 5 ⇒ (3, 3, 2, 2) - 8 + 5 = 7

With practiced ease, Grace suits up in her battered suit of non-standard-issue combat armor, taking extra time to make sure her rifle is in good working order before securing it on its hardpoint. Shooting a backward glance at Theron as he readies his armor and painfully-familiar microsteel blade, Grace heads toward the rendezvous point, ready for the team to disembark. As their shuttle warms up for departure, she speaks quietly to Dern.

"When we get back... I've already burned through everything I brought to read twice over. Do you think I could take a look some of that fan fiction you mentioned?"

She flashes Dern a quick grin as she double-checks her loadout of thermal clips.

Theron arches an eyebrow, "That... might be very helpful. Thanks.", and stands, then holds for a moment, "Sarge? Did the mission brief talk about the legality of long blades? I'd really hate to leave the sword behind, but this isn't Omega and I don't want to attract attention either."

"Dress in costume and say you're advertising a play or fair or something," Hestia suggests seriously. "Something old-timey that a sword would go with."

Grace gives a soft, good-natured laugh at Hestia's suggestion.

"You might be on to something there. Maybe we could all get kitted out with some proper brigandine and crossbows while we're at it. That way, at least we'd all match."

Her tone becoming more serious, she addresses Theron, not quite meeting his eyes, but keeping an even tone.

"From what I've been told, you shouldn't have to worry. For starters, we'll be attracting attention just being there. Out of all of us, speaking in terms of gear, I'd guess that my rifle would probably attract the most attention, honestly. Unless someone recognizes you. Either way, bring whatever you need."

She shrugs, then briefly turns to Dern, her demeanor still somewhat friendly, but definitely more neutral than before.

"I haven't got any on me, but if we ever stop at the Citadel, I'll see if I can buy you a jar. I think you might like it."

Collecting her tray and utensils, Grace deposits them on the small conveyor headed toward the sanitation unit, then addresses the group.

"Best if we finish up and get moving. Meet at the armory in five."

Giving a small nod, she turns and leaves the galley.

Dern’s eyes light up at the request. ”Of course! I find that humans typically find salarian fare off-putting, but they do not know what they are missing! This being an Alliance vessel, I had to arrange for a case of this to be available here. It’s better fresh, but the canned stuff will do in a pinch.”. He happily shares some with Grace and eagerly watches her, waiting for her reaction after the first bite.

After taking a bite, Grace goes through an impressive series of expressions, ranging from quizzical to pensive.

"I... I don't hate this. Actually... it's alright. Reminds me a little of the time my dad tried making Roman garum from a 2,000-year-old recipe book he brought home from work. Maybe crossed with a little of that cheap jhel sauce you get in asari MREs. Minus the eezo aftertaste, of course."

She spreads the remainder of the small dollop over her breakfast and finishes it, apparently analyzing the strange flavor carefully. Finally, she looks at Dern inquisitively.

"How do you feel about Marmite?"

”I share your concern, Miss Harper,” he says between mouthfuls. ”I have much wider latitude with my artillery in uninhabited spaces. This mission will certainly pose unique challenges.”

"Absolutely. We'll all have to be on our best behavior, and can't afford to let our guard down under any circumstances. Also, remember what I said last time about setting off explosives around fragile walls and the like. Or... anywhere, really."

She pauses briefly, appearing to be giving some thought to the matter.

"By the way, Dern..."

Grace looks up from her own plate at the salarian, then points to his choice of breakfast spread.

"... would it be alright if I tried some of that? Feel free to say no, but it doesn't look half bad."

Hestia looks with dismay at the bottom of her empty coffee. "Can we discuss this over breakfast?"

Grace nods, giving Hestia a small smile.

"Alright, everyone, let's take fifteen and hit the galley before we head to the armory."

Grace nods and salutes.

"Understood, ma'am. Permission to be dismissed?"

"Look, I know we are all professionals here, but this is Noveria we are talking about. We need to cover our asses, as it were."

Grace nods her agreement.

"No arguments from me, ma'am, I understand. Reminds me of when I was stationed on Illium. Back before the War. When it was... well, not like it is now..."

She glances down at the deck, a slightly uncomfortable expression crossing her face for a second as she hands back the datapad, but when she looks back up, she appears once again calm and collected.

"Sorry about that, ma'am. Anything else we'll need to worry about while we're planetside?"

"Either a new avenue for research, or a great premise for some fan fiction."

A moment after her previous comment, Grace seems to freeze in place for a split second as she looks at Dern, an odd expression on her face.

"Wait... did you just say fan fiction?"

Satisfied, he turns back to the matter at hand. "I looked up what I could regarding our destination..."

"What exactly did you find? I'm not a fan of being as in the dark as we are right now, and we're going to need all the help we can get."

It is unclear whether Dern is a "morning person" - he seemingly exhibits the same nervous energy at all times of day. With a "down to business" air, he quickly readies himself and sets out to ensure he is punctual to the meeting.

Grace is absolutely not a morning person, especially given the troubled sleep she's had the last few night cycles onboard ship. Still, years of light sleeping ensures that she's up ahead of schedule. Giving each of the team members a nod as she moves through the crew quarters, Grace makes her way to the commissary for a much-needed cup of tea before heading to the briefing.

Hestia looks up at Grace in surprise. "Of course I'm alright. We have a mission. We all have to be alright."

As Grace turns to go, Hestia nearly whispers, "Thanks, Sarge."

Grace nods, almost imperceptibly, for a moment seeming very far away.

"We all have to be alright..."

She turns slightly toward Hestia.

"You'll all be alright. All of you. I promise. Now, go get some rest."

She nods again, giving a half-smile and a thumbs-up before heading to her own bunk.

"Honestly, Hestia, as I've looked deeper and deeper into this cesspit, I don't think we could have counted on what was in your head as being accurate. Plans within plans, wheels within wheels, contingencies left and right -- any data you did still have would be just as likely to be the trigger to a trap as the way to disarm it."

He then turns his attention to the woman standing in the door, his face locking back into a neutral mask, "Didn't think it would be taken well if I tried to stasis her so she'd stop--so I thought it best to ride it out."

Hestia stops looking at the Omnitool and sits thinking. "Stasis never fixes anything. Just delays it," she murmurs quietly.

"If there was a contingency built in, it's either been disarmed, has already hit.. it's been ten years, and ten year old intel is mostly worthless." She looks at Grace. "It's probably nothing, Sarge. I'm seeing shadows everywhere. After all, I thought Theron was here to eliminate me. Momentary lapse of reason." She shoots Theron an apologetic look.

Lapsing back into thought, she chews absentmindedly on the end of one thumb.

Grace nods slightly, her eyes flicking in Theron's direction, before addressing Hestia's concerns.

"No, I get it. And you might be right about the intel. But on the other hand, there might still be something there. Best be careful, yeah? I want to get to the bottom of this, but we're not going to risk any of your lives to get it. Even though the organization isn't there anymore, anything Cerberus left behind isn't to be trusted."

Briefly nodding to Hestia, she turns fully to face Theron.

"You're not wrong. But I don't appreciate the sarcasm. Whether I like it or not, you're on my team, and we're going to have to trust each other and work together. All of us."

Grace folds her hands behind her back, straightening into a position almost reminiscent of Lieutenant Vaws's severe bearing.

"We'll be at Noveria soon. Like the Lieutenant said, I'd suggest we all get some rest and prepare. We don't know exactly what's down there, so we'll all have to be at our best. Dismissed."

She pauses before heading to her own bunk, speaking quietly to Hestia.

"I meant it when I asked if you were alright. I know I don't know much about all of this high-tech stuff, but let me know if there's anything I can do to help."

Grace enters the bunk area just in time to watch Hestia punching herself in the head. As Hestia finishes speaking and consults her omni-tool, Grace raises both hands in a palms-out gesture, appearing a bit startled and confused.

"Whoa... okay... is everything alright here? Are you alright?

She looks from Hestia to Theron, then back to Hestia again, seeming genuinely concerned.

Spoiler:

The quarian is certainly thorough. The maintenance is extremely regular, and it's even boring to look through. But it's the initiall installation that gets your attention- somewhere before Captain Arpin and Lieutenant Vaws oversaw installation, this VI was created by a Noverian company called Elite Innovations. As you are headed there already, it might not hurt to look.

Dern notes this information for further investigation, and shares what he has learned with Sergeant Wright.

Grace gives Dern one of her now-familiar concerned looks.

"Elite Innovations, eh? And they just happen to be on Noveria. I know I'm no great shakes at technology, but something about this sounds dodgy as hell."

She sighs, taking a moment to rub her temples with thumb and forefinger.

"I've got a bad feeling about this, but there's not much we can do, all considering."

Straightening, she claps Dern on the shoulder.

"Still, as long as we work together, we'll be alright. Stay sharp, yeah?"

Grace flashes a smile that's closer to genuine than any he's seen in the last few days, though still not quite a hundred percent.

"Like the Lieutenant said, we should all get some rest. I'll be hitting the sack in a bit, just figure I should check in first, make sure Harper and the new guy are getting along..."

She trails off, shrugging, and heads for the RITS quarters.

Specialist Cel'rayvay stands to her full, modest height and sends Theron the information requested without missing a beat. "Full maintenance logs for Kody as performed by myself or Officer Merriweather. You'll see that everything was normal from installation until just a few moments ago.

Speaking of moments, Lt. Vaws arrives in engineering a moment later. "What's going on here, Sergeant?" Its less of an order and more of a growl.

Grace instinctively snaps to attention, looking slightly embarrassed as she raises a salute.

"I'm not entirely sure, Lieutenant. I apologize, I didn't get here much before you did."

She glances at the deck for a moment, a slight blush creeping across her face, before she again addresses the Lieutenant.

"It seems that, ah... our piloting VI has gone rogue. Fortunately, Specialist Dern was able to at least temporarily contain it on a spare old-fashioned storage drive. Fortunately, Specialist Rimas has volunteered to act as shuttle pilot for the remainder of our mission. Again, I apologize. With any luck, this won't happen again."

Hestia frowns at the storage unit that now traps Kody. "It would have been a different story had Kody gone all Durandal while piloting the ship. Rampancy is an ugly thing."

Grace cocks her head to one side, looking slightly confused.

"Durandal? Like from The Song of Roland?"

Theron says, "I would be interested to see the logs - or, more accurately - what's not in them. I have to expect that if this is reckless -- potentially illegal -- AI experimentation, then someone's likely to be covering their tracks. I mean, it's not like the Alliance would condone such a thing, would they, Sergeant? However, on the positive side, to answer your question, I believe the only harm done has been to people's dignity as private files were on wide display."

Grace gives Theron a sidelong look, crossing her arms.

"That's good at least, this could have been a lot worse. I doubt the Alliance would have had anything to do with something like this, though I did once hear something about an attache to the Citadel being dismissed for illegal AI research years ago. On the other hand, this isn't an Alliance operation..."

”It seems Kody went rogue,” Dern explains. ”That is highly unusual for a mere VI system. I suspect there is more to that system than we knew.” He looks back to the other crew with an appraising look. ”It would be more consistent with an AI fault. But I can’t imagine anyone in a position of authority would install an untested AI to pilot a shuttle.” His tone suggests that that is, in fact, precisely what he suspects has happened.

”I would be interested in reviewing Kody’s code and logs. If memory serves, however, they are only available to Lieutenant Vaws and Captain Arpin.”

Grace nods her assent.

"Sure thing. I'll see if I can talk with the Captain or the Lieutenant and try to get you some useful information."

She looks around to the rest of the crew present, appearing slightly unsettled.

"I apologize I wasn't able to make it here earlier. Is everyone alright?"

Like a dog offered a treat, Kody notices the new device. He dances towards it and then, truly, starts DANCING, moving to the beat of numerous ancient earth ballads like "The Humpty Dance" and "Amish Paradise". He catches on to the idea that this may have been a trap far too late, and Specialist Cel'rayvay locks down all other networks in the room. Kody roars in frustration for a moment- bringing back memories of rogue AIs from bad late night holovids- but only a moment, and instead begins the herculean task of going through the songs individually. Officer Merriweather slumps against a wall, spots of color in his cheeks.

Having started on her way later than the rest, Grace shows up just as the transfer finishes taking place, her whole demeanor switching from serious to confused in an instant.

"Alright, what seems to be the... whoa... Anyone care to fill me in on what just happened?"

On her way to engineering, Grace keys her omni-tool to open communication with Hestia and Dern.

"I'm assuming both of you got the message-- are you alright?"

Theron meets her gaze evenly and says, "I appreciate the candor. But, one small question before I go... Tell me, Sarge, how did you know you were on the right side?" He turns on his heel and leaves without waiting for a response.

After Theron leaves, Grace picks up the discarded akantha bottle, and spends a few minutes quietly regarding the half-inch of liquid sloshing around inside, before speaking softly to herself.

"Because we never executed unarmed civilians."

With a sudden violent motion, she pitches the liquor bottle against the observation window, where it shatters into pieces, the remaining akantha running down the transparent aluminum panel. Straightening her utility uniform, she walks out of the room, her expression a picture of practiced calm.

Grace sighs heavily, looking down at the deck, then rubs her eyes with thumb and forefinger.

"I guess that explains why you didn't self-destruct along with the rest of your ...friends."

Another long pause.

"Based on what you've said, I want to believe you, I really do. And I'm under orders to bring you onto the team. I don't know if it was the captain or an agent of this "Shadow Broker" character who recruited you, but I trust the captain, and so far, neither of them have steered us wrong. On the other hand, I know about the assassinations. I mean, Harper was part of Cerberus, but she was just a little kid, and she had that damn chip in her head. But you..."

For the first time, she looks Theron straight in the eyes.

"You're only a couple years younger than I am. And like you said, you didn't get the implants. You weren't indoctrinated. Despite your supposed eleventh-hour change of heart, you should have known better."

Grace suddenly looks very, very tired, and a hell of a lot older than her thirty-four years.

"I can't trust you. But you can trust me when I say that no one on my team will hurt you. If you slip up, go back to your old ways, I'll shoot you myself, but I can promise you, you'll be awake, and I'll be looking you right in the eyes when I do it."

She turns stiffly to face the observation window.

"Dismissed. Mission briefing will be at 0500."

Before leaving, she turns to Theron, a strange look in her eyes.

"Don't screw up."

Theron eyes the bottle for a moment, then shrugs, and takes a pull, before handing it back, What's coming first? Questions? A lecture? Being told I'm on thin ice? More threats? Bluster? I rather get the feeling even she's not sure yet.

Grace waits a long while before saying anything.

"By the end of the war, most of your people had been implanted with Reaper tech. Almost all of the ones who survived were scientists and ops personnel-- from what I've heard, they mostly just had an implant or two that got fried when the Crucible went off. A few people had implanted VIs and the like in their heads and were "freed" after being basically meat puppets for a couple years. But all of the rank and file were packed full of the stuff. One time, we..."

She takes a long pause, seemingly sifting through uncomfortable memories.

"After one skirmish, we pried the helmet off a trooper who went down near us, trying to find a comm unit. Underneath, he looked more like a Reaper husk than a human being. I heard reports about Nemesis and Phantom units actually self-destructing when captured. And when we were searching for survivors after the wave from the Crucible hit Illium, we found whole squads of Cerberus assault troops that looked like they'd just dropped dead where they were standing."

Another long pause.

"After Cerberus wiped out my platoon at Aravis Arcology, I fell in with what ended up being one of the "N7 Special Ops" teams. Your dossier was passed around more than once over the QEC, but after the end of the war, we all assumed you'd been hit along with all the rest. So..."

Grace takes a deep breath, glancing at the deck for a moment before turning her eyes back toward the observation window.

"So. I have to ask, trooper. Why aren't you dead?"

She turns, fixing Theron with a cold glare.

"And what the hell are you doing aboard this ship?"

Taking the elevator to the crew level, Grace heads for the observation deck, finding Theron already there. Pointedly ignoring him, she rummages around under one of the couches bolted to the deck, popping back up after a moment holding a partly-full bottle labeled in asari writing. Still without looking at the man, she moves to stand next to him, gazing out through the wide transparent aluminum panel at the mass effect field surrounding the ship as it makes its way toward the Pax system.

After a few minutes, she takes a long pull from the bottle, then holds it out to Theron, eyes still fixed on the observation window.

"Have a drink, trooper. That's an order."