The Illusive Man stands before a holographic image of Commander Shepard's vitals. A cigarette is tucked in between the fingers of his right hand, and he puffs at it lightly; the orange glow lighting his face before being concealed once more in a shroud of smoke.
"Brain activity is fully functional. Remarkable activity. Vascular organs are up and running. Mercury levels in the blood are ideal. One hundred and seven over fifty millimeters," says Miranda Lawson over intercom. "Analyzing musculature contraction and memory."
The Illusive Man nods as if pleased with the information. He begins pacing calmly to-and-fro, flicking his cigarette ash onto the floor. With his opposite hand, he massages the bridge of his nose.
"All up to par," continues Miranda. "Chief Wilson, keep working on the sensory organs. Let me know if there's any reaction to stimuli or changes in the readings. "
"On it," mutters Wilson.
The Illusive Man takes another drag from his cigarette before tossing the withered butt to his feet where he puts it out.
"Good work, Miranda. It's been a long two years, but the results definitely show," says the Illusive Man.
"Thankyou sir," she says in response. "Preliminary tests such as these will allow us to ensure that Shepard wakes with ease when the time comes to bring him out of stasis. …I still think we should implant some sort of chip, though. A puppet without strings seems mighty dangerous. Especially a puppet as expensive and important as Shepard."
"Creating a puppet was not my intent. And a microchip would hinder my original plan. We need Commander Shepard exactly as he was before the Normandy went down. A chip could promote hostility towards us; endanger the ideals, endanger the man, and thus endanger the galaxy."
"Understood."
The Illusive Man lights another cigarette as he takes a seat in a sleek black chair in the center of the amazingly empty room. He takes a puff and pats it with his index finger, knocking bits of ash off. He then reaches for a small cup half full of some sort of clear beverage and sips.
"Shepard's status is not the only reason for this call," he continues. "I thought it best to inform you that Leontyne and her team are nearing the facility."
Miranda's tone becomes somewhat annoyed as she responds.
"…Canto 6," she says. "Coming to the facility? For what purpose? They're not a medical team, they're soldiers."
"I'm more than aware of your history with Leontyne, Miranda, but they're stopping by at my request. They won't be there long. They're only there to obtain some information on the Normandy's past crew members."
"What happened to their ship's database?"
"The Kitty Hawk was never outfitted with that information. Nor did it have access to Project Lazarus files. Canto 6 is our fire team; our ghosts. If they were ever captured or killed and the Kitty Hawk was ever seized, its database would be scoured, and within hours, all of our hard work would be fruitless. It was my intent to keep both Cerberus' involvement and Commander Shepard's whereabouts from wandering eyes."
"Of course. They'll be given full access."
"I appreciate your willingness to cooperate with Leo's squad," he says, almost sarcastically. "See that they're directed to the right area upon docking. I'll check back in later to see how their visit went and how Shepard is doing."
With that, the transmission is ended.
Miranda shuts the channel and heaves a heavy sigh.
"Great," she says, putting her weight on her hands as she leans against a medical countertop. "Leontyne Richter."
"I heard it all," says Wilson from the operating table, somewhat amused. "It's always fun to see you two cats claw each other."
As Wilson chuckles under his breath, Miranda pushes away from the countertop and turns about to look at the monitors. Her expression begins to show signs of worry.
"Wilson," she begins, swiveling a monitor so that they can read it better. "There. On the monitor. Something's wrong."
She points to a spot on the monitor, and Wilson analyzes it.
"He's reacting to outside stimuli," says Wilson. "Showing an awareness of his surroundings!"
Miranda walks around to the other end of the operating table worriedly as Commander Shepard begins to show signs of gaining consciousness.
"My God, Miranda! I think he's waking up!"
Shepard begins to lift his arms and acknowledges their presence by looking at them both. This is followed by some heavy breathing.
"Damnit, Wilson! He isn't ready yet! Give him the sedative!," says Miranda angrily.
As Wilson prepares the sedative, Miranda leans over Shepard and holds down his arms.
"Shepard, don't try to move. Just lie still. Try to stay calm," she says as calmly as she can.
"Brain activity is off the charts!," says Wilson from across the room. "Stats pushing into the redzone. It's not working!"
Miranda leaves Shepard's side and walks to Wilson's side, overlooking a set of several other monitors.
"Another dose!," she says sternly. "Now!"
Wilson heads to the foot of the operating table and manually types in some things, injecting Shepard with even more sedative. Shortly after this dose, Shepard's breathing calms… and he begins going under.
"Heart rate dropping," says Wilson, relieved. "Stats falling back into normal range. …That was too close. We almost lost him."
"I told you your estimates were off!," she says abruptly. "Run the numbers again!"
Shepard gives Miranda one last weak glance before going completely unconscious.
"Shit!," she says. "She runs a hand through her hair stressfully and turns away from Shepard and Wilson, crossing her arms. "What else could possibly go wrong? First Canto 6 and then we almost lose Shepard."
"I'm sorry, Miranda. It won't happen again."
"See that it doesn't. …I'll be at the docks playing welcoming committee for my best friend. Try not to blow the place up while I'm gone."
"…Yes ma'am."
Miranda leaves the room.
Wilson narrows his eyes as she leaves his sight.
"…Blow the place up, she says," he mumbles with a smirk. "You have no idea…"