"What's going on?" Traynor asked for what felt like the tenth time.

Ashley shook her head, running her hand through her hair. "Hell if I know. I don't think anyone really knows what's going on."

The comms specalist gripped the edges of her work station tightly enough her knuckles whitened. Anxious. Traynor was usually anxious about something, but from what Ashley had seen, she was actually getting herself together. She had handled the Reapers situation surprisingly well; she was shaping up to be a good marine. Then again, Ashley would be more surprised if Traynor wasn't getting it together.

A galactic war had a tendency to put things into perspective for people. Or at least, it did for Ashley.

She paused in her pacing to flip open her omni-tool. She read over Shepard's last message again.

Long story, but we're after the guy.

That was a half hour ago. He hadn't answered her since. She was getting worried, but it was most likely for nothing. She hoped it was for nothing. She was waiting for the all clear message, that they caught the person trying to kill him, and that they could enjoy the remainder of their forced shore leave in peace.

Ashley huffed as her arm fell back to her side and resumed her pacing.

"I don't like this," she said.

"Why would Shepard send you back here?" Traynor asked.

Ashley shook her head. "Someone's using his codes, and there's a lot of sensitive material stored in the ship's database. They might come here. I don't know."

It felt like forever when an alert went off at Traynor's desk. Someone was trying to enter the Normandy.

Traynor glanced at Ashley, but she held up a hand. "Bring up the footage first."

And sure as shit, it was Shepard.

Relief flooded her. He was okay, just being a flake and ignoring her. But he was okay, and she could forgive him for it.

The Commander was standing rather impatiently, looking back over his shoulders numerous times. Ashley frowned and leaned forward, saying, "Zoom in on him." Traynor made a face, but didn't comment, doing as ordered. Ashley's eyes narrowed, eyes scanning over him.

"Something's wrong?" Traynor asked.

She nodded. "That's not his hardsuit."

"But that's him," she said.

Ashley's frown deepened. Alarms were going off in her head, but she couldn't figure out why. That was definitely Shepard. He just...didn't look quite right. Something about him was wrong, aside from the hardsuit. She just couldn't put her finger on it.

He ran his access code through again.

"You want me to let him on board?" Traynor demanded. "I can't keep him out."

"Go to the airlock and let him in," Ashley said, taking Traynor's place at the desk. "And then get off the ship. Make up an excuse. Say your relief is coming. Anything. I'm putting the ship in lockdown."

Traynor frowned. "Why?"

"Because this is not... I just have a feeling, all right? Trust me on this, please."

Sighing, she stepped away. "Yes, ma'am."

While Traynor marched off for the airlock, Ashley brought up the command panel and punched in her Spectre code. She went through the authorization process as quickly as she could, and typed in the pass code. No one was getting on or off this ship without her say so; Spectre codes could only be cancelled out by the Council themselves.

Ashley was praying her gut was wrong on this one. If not, she was essentially stealing the Normandy from her commanding officer. She doubted Shepard would blame her, but it wasn't a good thing to put on her resumé.

She heard the airlock hiss, and she snatched up her helmet, locking it into place the instant Shepard stepped onto the bridge. He had a pair of similarly uniformed men on his heels. They looked like the mercenaries from yesterday, and that's when she saw Brooks bringing up the rear. Another pair of mercenaries followed them inside several seconds later. Ashley's hand drifted towards her sidearm, only refusing to draw the weapon based on the fact Shepard was standing there.

"Are you the welcoming party I was warned about?" he asked.

That wasn't his voice. Well, it was, but it wasn't at the same time. Something about the tone, the way he said it, it was different.

The mercenaries levelled their guns on her, and she whipped her pistol out, taking a step back towards the elevator.

"I don't know what the hell is going on, or who you are, but this is my ship, and I'm ordering you to get off it."

He chuckled. "I believe the Normandy belongs to Commander Shepard."

"You're not Shepard," she snapped.

"Then who am I?" he retorted.

Ashley hesitated, grip slackening, despite how wrong the situation felt to her, how wrong "Shepard" felt.

Her omni-tool chirped. She spared it a glance, and then solidified her stance. A message from Shepard, when the man across the galaxy map hadn't even moved an inch.

"You're a clone."

His face contorted into an expression of rage, and before she had the chance to react, he leapt across the map in a flash. Electricity shot through her veins as he slammed into her mid-section, launching her back into the elevator. She fell to the floor, groaning, as pain split through her back and head.

She was struggling to get to her knees, ignoring his rant about how he was the real Shepard, when she heard his shotgun cock. At this short of a range, her shields wouldn't even stop a handgun.

Her training kicked in, and she shot to her feet, locking a hand around his wrist and throwing his gun away. His skin erupted in a flash of biotic light as he tried to overpower her, but her grip on him was like iron, and he was stuck.

Ashley brought her free hand back to try and punch him, but he caught her fist.

The clone leaned close, sneering. "You weren't good enough on Virmire. What makes you think you're good enough now?"

"You're an idiot if you think I haven't gotten past that."

She released him abruptly, allowing him to fall into his own momentum, and slipped away. Ashley buried her foot in his gut, putting enough force behind the kick to break bone. He collapsed with a cry of pain, but before she could make a move for a gun, he threw her again.

Ashley swore she could feel her veins buzzing.

Still trying to regain her bearings, she could hear him raving again. He was ordering his men to kill her.

She went to shove herself upright and run. She didn't know where she'd run to, but if there was one thing she was good at, it was running. The only person she'd seen outrun her was Kai Leng; none of these mercenaries would be catching her.

Glass. Shards of it were shaken off of her arms, shoulders, her back. She'd smashed a monitor. And if she had smashed a monitor...

Grabbing one of the supports for the floor, she swung herself under the metal grate onto her stomach. Only a few inches away was one of the maintenance hatches, covered up after the Alliance got its hands on the Cerberus-crafted SR-2. Bullets ricocheted off the floor where she had been only moments ago, and without further thought, Ashley flung it open and dropped herself inside.

She could still hear the faint pattering of gunshots spraying the floor as she controlled her descent. There was a ladder of course, but there wasn't time to take it down a moment ago, and the space was far too cramped for her to maneuver around onto it now.

Ashley sighed, leaning her head onto her shoulder to close her visor. Not even five minutes, and she could already feel her throat tightening. Closed spaces. They never sat well with her. At least with her visor shut, her hardsuit would attempt to regulate her breathing.

First exit, she promised herself. Then she promised herself to memorize the layout of the ship's vents when this was over. Ashley doubted she would ever need to come crawling through the ducts again, but she couldn't ever be sure of anything, and she would rather be safe than sorry. If she knew the system better, she could navigate herself to the closest hatch, instead of wandering until she came across one.

Time passed oddly when anxious. A few minutes could be hours, or hours could only be a few minutes. In all reality, she wasn't sure how long she was inching her way along before she came to another drop-off. And honestly, she didn't care. She could see the faintest hint of light coming up, and that was all she needed to head down.

Descending upside-down was not the most thrilling experience, but it worked. She punched the hatch open and dragged herself out, falling into some area of the ship rather ungracefully.

The fall was surprisingly high, several feet, probably close to six. It hurt her already aching shoulders and she groaned, rolling onto her side before pushing herself to her feet.

Her eyes locked on the pair of mercenaries that were staring at her. They were about as dumbfounded as she was, but they had guns. As soon as they got their wits about them, they raised them.

"Well, this is awkward."

The first one, she lunged for his weapon, slamming his assault rifle into his helmet. The ceramic and glass cracked, and she twisted behind him. His friend didn't shoot either of them, instead training his gun on her as she kicked her captive to the floor, unarmed.

At this range, one quick burst was enough to kill him. She finished his friend, then dropped the rifle and doubled over, panting.

The cargo hold. Somehow she'd managed to climb far enough to end up in the cargo hold.

Ashley let out a final puff of relief as she pulled off her helmet. She needed to breathe. She needed fresh air, but that was in rather short supply in space.

Laughing once at her own joke, she made her way over to her locker. Her hand locked around her Vindicator before clipping it to her back. She barely spared a glance at the incendiary grenades; only an idiot would go throwing grenades onboard a ship. And while she had a streak of doing exceedingly stupid things, that would not be one of them.

Once she was finished, Ashley stepped over to the procurement console Cortez used to maintain the Normandy's stock of supplies. It wasn't really made for video calls, but she could make it work. After punching in a few codes, mainly emergency access, she entered Shepard's ID and waited.

He answered almost immediately.

"Did you get my message?" he asked frantically.

Ashley held up her fingers and pinched. "About this late."

Shepard's head fell as he let out a sigh of defeat. "Dammit. I was hoping we got out in time."

"Out of what?" she asked.

He shook his head. "I'll tell you later. What's going on over there?"

"Well, I'm gonna assume you messaged me about your clone," she said. He frowned, starting to say something about how she hadn't actually read it, but she cut him off. "He's got control of the ship, but I have it locked down. He can't go anywhere."

"He's got my Spectre codes, Ash," Shepard said.

She nodded. "I figured that out when he tried to use them to get on the ship. Luckily for you, we're the same rank, and you technically can't get around my code with yours."

"Technically?"

"That'll last for about...probably another five minutes," someone off-screen—Liara, it sounded like—said. "Once the database updates, he can override what he likes with his handprint."

"Since when was that a thing?" Ashley demanded.

Shepard waved her comment aside. "Doesn't matter. Where are you? Where's the clone?"

"I'm in the cargo hold," she said. "Your clone is probably worrying about his broken ribs on the bridge. That's the last place I saw him."

Shepard nodded. "Good, stay there. We're on our way. Maybe five minutes, if we don't have to kill any of his mercenaries on the way in."

"The ship is on lockdown, Commander," Ashley said. "And if he's altered the Council's copy of your file somehow, you can't get onboard. As far as the Normandy is concerned, he's Commander Shepard, not you."

"We'll get onboard," Shepard said resolutely.

"And just how do you plan on doing that?" she demanded.

He smirked. "You'll see."

Before she could say anything else, he hung up.

It sounded like he had a plan, so Ashley tried not to worry. They were close, only a few minutes away, depending on the levels of resistance outside the ship. She wouldn't be stuck there for long, but the clone had to have people combing the decks for her. He'd be stupid not to. She would just have to stay hidden until Shepard got there.

It wasn't a long wait, as expected. The elevator door opened as it usually did, and Shepard stepped off.

She froze in place, ducked behind the shuttle. That was the clone, not Shepard, with Brooks hot on his heels. The clone was obviously in pain, arm slung over his abdomen as he staggered towards the lockers. Brooks trailed behind, some sort of off-brand rifle in hand. She wandered a few steps in Ashley's direction, eyes roaming over the deck, and she spun back into cover. Had the clone not also inherited Shepard's biotics, Ashley might've decided to try her luck with fighting them. But he was, and her ears were still ringing from him throwing her around.

Once Brooks had managed to roam her way towards the bay doors, Ashley took the opportunity to wriggle herself beneath the shuttle. It was a better hiding place than any.

Claustrophobic and somehow I always end up in small spaces, she thought, suppressing the urge to sigh. Only a few more minutes probably. Hopefully. She wasn't too keen on the idea of being stuck down here with these people for long.

There wasn't a way for her to turn around easily, not without banging around. Instead, she settled in place to wait, focusing her ears on listening for the elevator, or for footsteps getting too close. And while she waited, Ashley twisted her head to keep an eye on the clone. He was standing by the lockers, stripping out of his hardsuit. He mumbled something about it being junk now. A smug smirk crossed her lips; she must've cracked the ceramic.

Ashley eased her head down onto the floor, closing her eyes, and inhaled deeply. This would most likely be her only chance to catch her breath. Shepard was coming and he was going to kick his clone's ass. She would need to be ready for that. He was a biotic, and from what little she had been exposed to, a skilled one at that. The very worst she was aware of Shepard's team facing was the occasional asari when they were trying to stop Saren. There had been a few when they were fighting the Collectors, but Shepard had typically engaged them himself while the rest had worried about their backup. Down here, it was just them, the clone, and Brooks. It wasn't going to end well for anyone.

If whomever he had with him got out of this without a broken bone, Ashley would be impressed.

She heard a hiss. Craning her head to the side again, she caught a peek of the elevator door opening. Shepard.

Not wanting to waste another second, she dragged herself out from under the shuttle and bounced to her feet. Someone's shotgun went off not a second later, followed by a quick burst from an assault rifle. Her shields took a hit, taking them down to half capacity. There wasn't a decision; she instinctively knew she was quicker on the draw with her pistol, and she whipped it out, firing a pair of rounds in the general direction of Brooks. She caught a flash of movement as the woman ducked into cover and Ashley took the opportunity to get behind the shuttle. After swapping out for her battle rifle, she moved around the other end, peeking her head out towards the gunfire.

Liara. Garrus. She wasn't surprised to see either of them. Both of them were behind the two small desks in front of the elevator. A bang told her Shepard was somewhere fighting the clone.

She moved back towards Garrus, the closest of the two, taking cover behind a support strut. Another bullet bit through her shields further, but Garrus and Liara both returned fire. Brooks was hidden somewhere again before Ashley could even look. Another beat, and she was behind the desk with the turian. She caught a glance of both versions of Shepard trying to pulverize the other with a quick flare of their biotics; she almost froze on the spot.

"Is he wearing Shepard's armor?"

Garrus' response was lost in the sound of a body slamming into their hiding spot. They both jumped at the opportunity; Garrus looked further back for Brooks, but Ash fired on the clone as Shepard leapt back into it.

The clone was wearing a black set of N7 armor, the stock color from what Ashley understood. Shepard's own hardsuit was a deep blue at the moment, though how she remembered that, or could even tell the difference, was beyond her.

Brooks fired again, forgoing Garrus to aim for Ashley's head. The round snapped off with a thud, and the alarm in her helmet went off. She switched targets just as Brooks moved yet again, but this time, her last burst connected. She could see the flash of her protective barrier as they both moved back into cover.

Ashley couldn't help thinking how ridiculous this entire situation was.