"Alright, alright, keep your shirt on," Shepard laughs, and after a moment's examination finds a few handholds and starts working her way up to the trap mechanism, "Or y'know. Don't. Your option."

It takes a little chivvying and, in the end, a controlled burst of biotics, but presently the machine that had sprung Tabris' trap comes apart with an unhealthy, dust-choked grinding sound. Then she drops, net and all.

"You dead yet?"