Prologue; Session One.
Fireworks burst into miniature stars high in the air above Caltenth. X-ZAT Fighter Squadrons swooped through the air; their wing-mounted cannons firing dummy rounds into night-sky. They were old weapons, having been long since decommissioned. An outdated weapon on an outdated ship, relegated to flying air shows and tribute festivals in order to impress children and misty-eyed war veterans.
Along the crowded, narrow streets children and parents alike watched through various eyes and extra-sensory systems as the celebration begun. Streamers of soft fabrics and holographic displays of light shot upward into the air as the crowd began to come alive, dancing and crashing together in a furious fever pitch.
The woman in white; perched atop a slanted, sheet-iron roof a mile away, watched it all through the fish-eyed lens of her sniper rifle.
The ear-piece embedded inside her right ear crackled to life, a disembodied voice whispered to her, "Team One is moving into position."
She swung her rifle back across the city, lazily tracing out three distant figures with the scope's crosshairs. They wore all-black fatigues, military style, though they belonged to no military unit. Slung across their chest were all manner of weapons; rifles and shotguns and each carried a pistol in a thigh-holster.
"Confirmed, Team One," The woman said, her voice low and emotionless. She brought her hand away from the trigger-guard of her rifle and keyed a command into the holo-visor that stretched across her face.
Three small orange symbols appeared in her heads up display; each one hanging above the head of a member of Team One. Numbers appeared next to the symbols; marking the distance and heart rate of each of the mercenaries.
"Proceed as planned," The woman ordered, "I've got you marked."
Team One moved across the low roofs of the shanty-town, their guns raised to shoulder height. They ran full pace, in perfect unison. Their arms bringing their guns about in quick, sharp arcs; covering every direction with the barrels of their weapons.
Each step of their combat boots shook the sheet-iron beneath them, sending the rainwater and specks of rusted metal that had collected there down to the ground below. Each step took them deeper into the shanty-town, where the sounds of celebration and merry-making gave way to distant gunfire and harsh screams. Each step took them closer and closer to their target.
The Spire.
"Was this the first time you killed?" Kelly asked, her fingers dancing across a holographic keyboard.
"The first time? No," Miranda rolled her shoulders and pressed her back deeper into the couch, she tilted her head backwards over the arm rest, trying to get a look at the young psychiatrist from her position on her back.
"The first time you felt regret, then?" Kelly clarified, finishing her work and turning back to her patient.
"No," Miranda's eyes closed and she rubbed her temple with her hand, "Karnak's men were fanatics. They were dangerous."
"Collateral damage then? Did someone get hit you didn't intend to?"
"I don't miss, Kelly," Miranda said, her voice taking a hard edge, "I'm not clumsy enough to hit a civilian."
"You're not making this very easy, Operative Lawson," Kelly said, standing gently and resting her hands on the back of the couch Miranda lay on.
"You know how the mission went, you've read my file; no accidents," Miranda said, sitting up suddenly and locking eyes with the former-Cerberus psychiatrist.
"I haven't actually," Kelly said, shrugging and taking a step back, "When did this operation take place? Before Jath'Amon's conspiracy and the mission with Operative Taylor?"
"Why haven't you read my file? They were declassified by EDI after we destroyed the Collector station," Miranda frowned and then sighed, "Unless you have read my file and you already know the answers to all your questions. You're trying to ease me into the role of a patient by getting me to answer questions, easy questions."
"Very impressive, Miranda," Kelly folded her arms and gave a slight grunt, "Exactly right."
Miranda paused for a second, deep in thought, scrutinizing the younger woman, "But you knew I'd figure that out, so you're trying to flatter me to appeal to my ego."
Kelly rolled her eyes slightly, but didn't say anything.
"It wasn't regret," Miranda said suddenly, sliding back down onto the couch, "No, not regret. But maybe something of a realization."
"Such as?"
"I realized that among all the things I was great at, I was excellent at killing."
Her crosshair hovered over the sentry's face for a second, then she squeezed the trigger. The sentry's slick black visor exploded through the back of its skull; taking most of the Batarian thug's face with it.
She swung around and lined up her next shot in a heartbeat. The second round burnt a neat hole through the throat of a second thug, sending him backwards out of the tower overlooking the main gate.
The Spire itself; a twisted, rusted thatch of metal towers and reinforced windows stretched high above in the background, overlooking the huts and shanty buildings that surrounded it on all sides. Her scope danced across it for a second, searching for other targets.
"Your clear, Team One, hit the gate."
The three orange markers on her visor blinked once. Then a gout of fire blossomed upward from Team One's position.
"Gate clear," Team One radioed in, a stutter of gunfire interrupted the transmission, "Outer guards eliminated."
Her rifle fell slack against her shoulder, her hand moved down to her chest and pulled a small black box free from her webbing. Her finger hovered over the button set in its face for a fraction of a second.
Then pressed down. Hard.
"Explosives?" Kelly asked, cocking a quizzical eyebrow.
"Yes," Miranda nodded, "Getholk was a lieutenant in Karnak's operation, he was in charge of security and regularly co-ordinated Karnak's movements from his office at the top floor of the Spire. He was elusive and secretive. But arrogant, too. We sent in a team of mercs first, had them breach the gate, then as soon as they entered I detonated some concealed charges. Hidden inside their armour."
"Messy," Kelly's face contorted into a disgusted grimace.
"Necessary," Miranda shrugged her shoulders, "There was no other way. Getholk would only ever let his guard down immediately after an attack had been thwarted. So I had to engineer a failed one. The explosion ensured he would relax, at least momentarily."
"He wouldn't suspect anything strange about a group of spontaneously combusting soldiers storming his home?" Kelly asked.
"Of course, but not straight away, enough time to get inside at least."
"How?" Kelly leant forward in her seat.
"By getting myself captured of course," Miranda sighed.
The fist caught her in the jaw and sent her to the ground; starlight danced across her vision.
"Assassin!" A rough, alien voice barked at her.
She coughed. Blood splattered down across her chest and mingled with the mud that had collected there.
"Yeah, yeah," Miranda murmured through the blood congealing in her mouth.
A steel-capped boot swung forward and slammed into her ribs. She felt one of them crack. Definitely broken. The force of the kick rolled her onto her back; her bound hands pressed into the curve of her spine.
"Your plan has failed!" The Batarian spat at her, she rolled out of the way and kicked with both of her legs. The alien hopped over the blow and gave a short, guttural laugh before he dropped to a knee next to her and drove his fist into her broken rib.
She cried out; halfway between a gasp and a hiss. Pain shot up the right side of her body.
"Not quite," She said quietly, rolling onto her front and getting up onto her knees, though not without some difficulty.
The Batarian gave a grunt of confusion, his next punch stopped mid-swing, "What?"
She didn't answer, instead she glanced around the room they were in. She'd been blindfolded when they brought her in and she still wasn't sure what floor of the Spire they were on.
The walls were a hazardous mash of metal and other scavenged materials. But that didn't hold her attention. The Batarian in the corner, however, did.
He was round and portly, for a Batarian, at least. His four eyes were half-closed. A long black cloak hung over one of his shoulders; a large, long-barrelled pistol hung in a mag-holster on his armoured chest.
"Getholk, I presume?" Miranda asked quietly, squinting through one blackened eye.
The Batarian nodded, then gestured to the guard standing either side of him with his hand, "Aim."
They raised their own weapons at her; stubby, rusted sub-machine guns that looked like they would rather be in a museum. She stared down the twin-barrels, a grim smile dawning on her face. The Batarian to her right, who had been beating her just moments before stepped forward, his hand dropping to the holster at his side.
Getholk stepped forward, satisfied that his safety was ensured, "What is your purpose here."
"Well," Miranda swallowed loudly, choking back another mouthful of blood, "I was sent here to kill you, after I extracted the current location of your boss."
Getholk laughed, his rancid breath filling Miranda's nostrils. He leant in closer, spittle dripping from between his thin lips, "I am not impressed."
Miranda shrugged, "I'm sorry to let you down."
The Batarian blinked his top set of eyes, "Not funny."
Miranda spat blood; the thick, dark substance coating the Batarian's lower eyes, "You're right. It's not."
Getholk stepped back, his hand moving to the pistol slung across his chest.
"Houdini," Miranda whispered, pressing the palm of her hand against the handcuffs that bound her wrists behind her back.
What happened next, happened very fast. The code-word activated a micro-sized shaped explosive charge that had been surgically implanted under the skin of her palm. The pain was horrific; like a red-hot steel rod being thrust through her hand, but not insurmountable. The smell of burnt flesh filled the room; the destroyed handcuffs dangled limply from her wrist.
She leapt forward, propelling herself up with her legs. Her left, undamaged hand snaked forward and caught Getholk's hand by the wrist a second before it reached his pistol. She broke his wrist in three places with a single twist of her own.
She pulled his pistol free from the chest-holster and brought it to bear on her 'interrogator' standing to her right. In the blink of an eye she put two rounds through the bridge of his nose; at the same time her left arm, ruined, bloodied hand and all, seized Getholk by the neck and spun him around, placing his considerable girth in between her and his two armed guards.
The pistol boomed again. The two guards crumpled to the floor; exit wounds tearing open and sending blood spatters across the wall behind them.
Miranda kicked the Batarian in the back of his knee, he dropped to the floor on all fours. She brought the pistol up and pressed the muzzle against the back of his head. Hard.
"My men are already on their way up the Spire," Getholk hissed from between his clenched teeth, "They will have already heard the shots. You will not get away with this."
"Now that," Miranda gave a short, dry laugh, "That is funny."
She squeezed the trigger.
"At that range it must have been..." Kelly clicked her tongue against her teeth, searching for the right word.
"Messy?" Miranda asked, running a hand through her hair, "You bet. That close? With the muzzle against the flesh? Shields didn't work. Damn near destroyed his head."
Kelly gave a short shudder of revulsion, "Is that what's troubling you?"
Miranda gave a short, sardonic snort, "No."
Kelly threw her hands up in a gesture of surrender, defeated, "So what brought you here?"
"Besides my first cold kill?" Miranda asked, sitting up suddenly, "Nothing."
"'Cold kill'?" Kelly asked, her brow furrowing in concentration.
"A kill in cold blood, Getholk was my first."
"It didn't seem to trouble you at the time," Kelly said pointedly.
"It didn't," Miranda rubbed the palm of her hand subconsciously.
"But now?" Kelly asked, easing back into her chair.
"Not now either," Miranda hissed, frustration filling her voice, "The Getholk op wasn't the problem."
"What was?"
"Chisholm, of course."
The last of Getholk's men danced and jerked as he was torn apart by rapid gunfire.
The Cerberus soldier dropped to a knee and slung his rifle over his shoulder. He tapped a single finger against his ear-piece, "The Spire is clear. All targets neutralized."
Thirty floors above, standing in the middle of Getholk's office, Miranda gave a nod to the empty room, "Understood. Prep the gunship and get ready for extraction."
She checked her omni-tool. The encryption on Getholk's data-files had been child's play to crack. The thousands of files were arrayed before her, scrolling by super fast. She tapped in commands; searching for anything that contained Karnak's name.
The search came back seconds later; over three thousand files.
She sighed, "Excellent."
Behind her, the black and orange angular shaped gunship swooped in and held its position a metre from the window of Getholk's office.
"Opening side door," The pilot's voice came through her earpiece, loud and clear.
Miranda stepped forward, pressing Getholk's pistol up into the corner of the window. She fired, shielding her eyes with her free hand. The window shattered, air rushed in. She hopped across the small gap to the open bay of the gunship. Inside a squad of four men, Cerberus soldiers who had secured the Spire moments ago, sat in reinforced seats.
The soldier nearest to the door ran a hand through his tightly cropped black hair and let out a relieved sigh, "Did we get it, ma'am?"
"I think so, Curtz," Miranda nodded, gesturing to her omni-tool.
Curtz' eyes widened in surprise as he spotted Miranda's bloodied hand, "That looks bad, let me get the medi-gel."
Miranda gently flexed her half blown apart hand, her eyes locked onto the small round hole burnt into her palm, "Fine. Make it quick. I need to get these reports back to the Illusive Man ASAP."
"Of course," Curtz said, pressing the injector against her palm.
His eyes glinted in the amber interior lighting of the aircraft, "How did Getholk die, then?"
Miranda looked up, staring at the soldier through half-lidded, heavily bruised eyes. The gunship began to pull away from the Spire, the wind howled past as the pilot pulled it into a pin-point turn and activated the ship's thrusters. She slid Getholk's pistol from her belt and tossed it out the bay door.
"Fittingly," Miranda said quietly, then hit the door button.
"What did the files tell you?" Kelly asked, tenting her fingers in front of her face absentmindedly.
"You already know," Miranda looked back at her briefly, "And stop that. You look ridiculous."
Kelly let her hands drop to her sides, "Operative Lawson, please..."
'Right, right," Miranda sighed and rolled her eyes back into her head, a curse dying on her tongue, "The information told us that Karnak would be meeting with several other Batarian extremists. Discussing weapons trade and an alleged plan to strike at the Alliance."
"Alleged?" Kelly asked, confused.
"The files were incomplete," Miranda explained, "They didn't belong to Getholk or anyone in Karnak's organization. They were intelligence reports from S.T.G. fact finding operations, Alliance investigations, etc. etc."
"Not Getholk's personal files, then?" Kelly asked, chewing on the end of her pen.
"Oh they were," Miranda sat up, stretching her arms high and yawning, "One of the reasons why Getholk was such a good head of security was because of his contacts in legitimate Citadel space. He could get information about people moving against Karnak before any actual operation had begun. That way, he could feed mis-information back to them and get Karnak to safety."
"Clever."
"Not clever enough," Miranda gave a wry smile, "But yes, I suppose, if I hadn't killed him he likely could have kept Karnak protected for a very long time."
"But you did kill him," Kelly said, her eyes dropping to the floor.
Miranda's smile widened, "Is that a question or a statement, Ms. Chambers?"
"Both, I suppose," Kelly shrugged.
"Yes," Miranda said after a pause, 'I killed him, and no, I didn't feel bad about it either."
"Alright," Kelly sighed, "So what happened at Chisholm?"
Miranda laughed, then stood up slowly, "Maybe tomorrow, Kelly. This session has gone on long enough."
"And read my file closer, Kelly," Miranda said as she headed for the door, "Chisholm wasn't a place, not really. It was a space station."
End Session One.