Communications Breakdown

"For god's sake," Samantha Traynor cursed. "EDI, why is my display all fuzzy?"

"A side effect of current restrictions on communications. It should subside shortly."

Great. So she just had to wait until it was over. That seemed to be the story of her life recently. First Shepard went ahead and raised the threat level for some mysterious reason, putting EDI in charge of monitoring the incomings and outgoings of the entire ship, making her more or less redundant, and now her own console was reminding her of it.

It flashed for a moment. She looked into it hopefully, and while the display was now there, it was practically unusable as it had transitioned from fuzzy to flickering. She sighed. Well, no better time to go to the mess hall and get a coffee.

"Specialist Traynor, you are required to remain at your post while on elevated alert," EDI stated as she made for the elevator. "Technical difficulties are not an excuse for insubordination."

"Jesus Christ, when did you become such a stickler EDI?"

"If you require anything, you may request it be brought to you. Otherwise, you are to remain at your post." Samantha frowned, then sighed again. She stepped back to her console and tried to interface with it. All it did was flicker on and on.

WATCH.

Samantha blinked. For a moment she could have sworn... No. Just her imagination. Had to be. Still... This time she watched carefully as she tried to use the console.

LISTEN.

No. Clearly it had been her imagination. There was nothing in that flickering interface that shouldn't be there, besides the flickering itself of course. She really should listen to herself once in awhile. She tried again.

OBEY.

She shook her head. When she looked back, the console was fully operational. She narrowed her eyes slightly, then shrugged. No use arguing anymore. She obeyed EDI's earlier command and got to work, however unhappy she was about it. After that, the day passed otherwise uneventfully. Someone from the mess hall eventually was kind enough to bring her a coffee and eventually she was able to step away to get some sleep.

...

That night, Samantha's sleep wasn't exactly restful. Samantha would never admit it, but she frequently fantasized about finding the perfect woman for her. An intimate partner who loved her and who she loved in return, who she could settle down with, maybe even start a family. Someone who was funny, intelligent, honest, and beautiful. In her dreams, this woman would be represented by some of her female contemporaries on the crew. Commander Shepard was of course a frequent contender in these fantasies, as was Dr. T'Soni. However, they were quite obviously happy together, and she could never bring herself to come between them. Still, there were plenty of eligible bachelorettes on the ship, her friend Kelly Chambers for instance. She would definitely never confess the things she imagined herself doing with her in one of her counseling sessions.

Tonight, however, was different. She was not in the driver's seat; she was a passenger, watching her own escapades with her ideal match from afar. The figure next to her other self was blurry, but she could see them enjoying coffee, playing chess, sharing a bed. It was only as the two of them sat on a picnic blanket, watching the sunset on an alien world, leaning in for a moment of passion that the other woman materialized into a familiar face.

"Miranda?"

She watched as their lips locked, then woke up in a sweat. For all her beauty, Miranda Lawson had never appealed to Samantha Traynor even in her fantasies, for the simple reason that she was a dangerous egomaniac and it was hard to ignore that glaring personality flaw, no matter how nice her tits and ass were. For her to pop into her head now was strange...

Strange, but exciting all the same.

...

The next morning, she was still thinking about her dream when she came upon her console flickering again.

"Ugh... EDI!" She called, annoyed.

"Yes Specialist Traynor?"

"One moment Specialist Traynor," and the A.I went silent, leaving Samantha flustered.

"Something wrong Specialist Traynor?" Asked a posh voice from behind her. Samantha turned and saw Miranda standing there. She must've been making her rounds. The image of Miranda from her dream briefly materialized in her mind, before dissolving just as quickly.

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "Something is definitely wrong. I'm the Communications Specialist onboard this ship. It's my job to handle the correspondence of the ship as much as it is to listen in on the galaxy."

"Of course," Miranda nodded.

"And yet now that Shepard's put the ship on alert, EDI's taken up most of my job, and I can't even do the rest because my stupid console is broken."

"There is nothing wrong with your console Specialist Traynor," Miranda gestured to the display.

Samantha turned and looked. It was still flickering. Samantha rolled her eyes. For someone who was engineered to be the perfect woman, apparently her eyesight wasn't so...

EVERYTHING IS FINE.

Samantha sighed. Of course Miranda was right. There was nothing wrong with the console. It was working just as it always had.

"Great. I'm going crazy," she muttered. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. We're all a little on edge right now," Miranda insisted with a smile. "As for Shepard, I'm sure the good of the ship and the crew are at the forefront of her mind. If you'd like, however, I'll speak to her."

YOU TRUST IN MIRANDA LAWSON.

"Thank you," Samantha answered, managing a grin as she turned to face her.

"I can't promise anything will change of course," Miranda reminded her. "If Shepard has her mind set on this, there's nothing I can do, but I'll let you know." Samantha smiled. She wondered why she hadn't turned to Miranda sooner. She could trust her. She could always trust her. As Miranda walked away to continue her rounds, Samantha turned back to the console again.

YOU WILL LISTEN TO MIRANDA LAWSON.

...

Again, Samantha's dreams were intruded upon by visions of Miranda Lawson. Only this time, the scenario was different. Samantha imagined herself dressed in the black, white, and grey uniform of a Cerberus operative. She was standing in the elevator of the SSV Normandy, the finest ship in the Cerberus fleet, when the door slid open to reveal the Captain's Cabin. She was no longer a passenger for this dream; she was in the driver's seat. She stepped out, marching obediently to the desk where she lay the report she was expected to deliver. She could see steam leaking from the bathroom. The Commander must have been taking a shower.

She heard a giggle, and turned her attention over to the bed. There, lying naked, was Operative Jane Shepard. "Operative" was a generous title, but Samantha supposed that "sex ****" was a little too crass, even if it was accurate. The dumb blonde bimbo was fucking herself with a vibrator, giggling inanely, as her bright pink eyes rolled back in her head.

"Ah. Hello Samantha. Is there something I can do for you?" She turned to see the door to the bathroom had opened, and Commander Miranda Lawson was now leaning in the doorframe, her perfect naked body on full display, water glistening on her skin in the soft light of the Captain's Cabin. Samantha did her best not to blush, though her eyes were noticeably wider.

"Er, I was just bringing you your daily briefing ma'am," she said, drumming her hand on the desk.

"Oh? Let me take a look at that..." Miranda sauntered gently over to the tablet, standing mere inches from Miranda. There was a hint of lavender in the air. She bent over, sticking her ass out, pushing her hair aside to reveal a sly grin aimed squarely at Samantha, who could only audibly gulp like a schoolgirl confronted with her crush. "Hmm... This seems satisfactory..."

"O-Oh? Good! Well I'll just be going then..."

"Wait," Miranda commanded. Samantha froze. "You seem... tense. When was the last time you did something... relaxing?" She ran her finger down Samantha's chest like a zipper. Suddenly, Samantha's clothes simply fell away.

"I..."

"Come here, my dear. I think you need some help... relaxing." She took Samantha's hand and led her unresisting form into the shower, the door closing gently behind them, before the moaning began...

Samantha crashed back to reality to find her sheets were damp and smelled of sex. She sighed and fell back into her bed, wondering why her mind was conjuring bad porn for her wet dreams, and why Miranda seemed to be the star.

Then again, why shouldn't be the star?

...

"Samantha," Miranda called, exiting the elevator.

"M-Miranda," Samantha sputtered, remembering the night before. Miranda either didn't notice or didn't care.

"I spoke to Commander Shepard."

"Oh? Oh! Right. Right... What, uh, what did she say?"

"Well I'd be lying if I said she took it well."

"Huh?"

"She said she was surprised by your disloyalty. She wondered if you were really fit to serve on this ship." Samantha looked horrified, but Miranda stopped her before she could speak. "I know it's not my place, but I couldn't let that stand. I told her off. I told her there was no one on this ship more loyal than you. That you are among the most fit to serve on this ship, and that if she couldn't see that, then she should step down from command as she clearly was no longer in touch with the crew."

Over the course of that explanation, Samantha went from horrified to utterly floored.

"You did that for me?" Samantha asked, astonished.

"Of course. It is outrageous to suggest you aren't fit to serve. If anything, you are ideal..." There was something in her voice there that Samantha didn't recognize. Miranda's eyes shifted slightly. "Oh. You seem to have a message."

"Huh?" Samantha turned around, not noticing Miranda slinking away.

YOU LOVE MIRANDA LAWSON.

She thought about what Miranda had said, and she realized for the first time that she was truly in love with Miranda Lawson. How could she have ever thought anything bad about her? She wasn't just a perfect body. She was a perfect person.

YOU WILL OBEY MIRANDA LAWSON.

She would do anything for Miranda Lawson. She need only ask, and Samantha would obey.

YOU BELONG TO MIRANDA LAWSON.

...

That night, Samantha rubbed at herself furiously. She dreamed she was a ****, naked and curled up in the lap of her Mistress, lost in the bliss of mindless obedience. In front of them, more slaves danced like a harem for their perfect Mistress, their tits and asses bouncing sensually up and down. Samantha had known who they were once; it was as meaningless to her as her own name now. She knew though that she had helped her Mistress do this to them. She knew she would help do it again. She would do whatever her Mistress commanded.

Her Mistress gestured to her breast, and she mindlessly obeyed, leaning in and starting to suck as her Mistress kissed her on the forehead. At that moment, unable to contain herself any longer, Samantha erupted in pleasure, and her brain fried.

...

Miranda stepped off the elevator into the CIC in the middle of the night. She had been up late working on some new toys when EDI informed gave her the news. She smiled as she saw Specialist Traynor standing alone in the darkened CIC, naked, staring at her console, absorbing her new thoughts like a sponge absorbing water. When Kasumi had suggested to her owner that they use subliminals to program Specialist Traynor, Miranda had her doubts. Still, they had to make sure no one was getting any information off the ship. However helpless Samantha had felt, EDI could only control so much; sooner or later, Samantha would have found a way around her, and if she did, she might discover exactly what was going on.

No need to worry about that now, as the naked drooling form of Samantha Traynor stared into the screen, allowing the messages to etch themselves into the tapestry of her mind.

YOU CANNOT RESIST.

YOU MUST OBEY.

YOU ARE A ****.

YOU HAVE NO MIND.

YOU HAVE NO RIGHTS.

YOU ARE NOT A PERSON.

YOU ARE THE PROPERTY OF YOUR OWNER.

YOU WILL SERVE YOUR OWNER.

YOU WILL PLEASE YOUR OWNER.

YOUR OWNER IS MIRANDA LAWSON.

YOU WERE BORN TO SERVE MIRANDA LAWSON.

YOU WILL DO ANYTHING FOR MIRANDA LAWSON.

On and on it went, reconstructing Samantha's entire mind to Miranda's specifications. She couldn't wait till she was finished. Samantha would never find her perfect partner, but she would most definitely have a perfect owner.