The door opened with a hiss and a blast of cold air against her face. Eyes that had spent countless weeks combing over reports: status updates, budget costs, employee filed complaints (there were plenty of those, especially from Wilson)…scanned the contents on the shelf. Miranda sighed at the meager offerings the storage unit provided and pulled out a small container that seemed safe enough at first glance. She unscrewed the lid and took a cautious sniff before hastily shoving the cover back on and dumping the entire thing down a nearby garbage chute.
Mental note, take Jacob off the cooking duty roster.
With another sigh, this one longer and heavier than the first, Miranda reached for the upper shelves and grabbed an energy bar instead before making her way over to the lounge. Someone had left the projector on, and there was an old vid playing on the screen. It was one of those classic romance stories, one with a princess and a pirate, a giant, and some guy named Indigo something. Miranda didn't remember the details, and at the moment she really couldn't bring herself to care.
She flopped down onto a plush loveseat, her long legs hanging off the side, and brought an arm over to rest against her tired eyes. Her posture was most uncharacteristic of her, but for now the last thing she wanted was to play her role as Miranda Lawson, unquestioningly loyal agent of Cerberus and head director of what was slowly becoming the most financially wasted investment in organic/synthentic engineering in all of human history.
The fate of humanity rested in her hands, and here she was, munching on a crunch bar that tasted more like metal shavings than anything else…
Feeling like an absolute failure.
There was little to report on the operation itself. Her scientists were draining resources like water through a sieve. Everyone was grasping for a solution, digging up unproven theories and running dangerous lab tests in hopes of receiving positive results. Whatever progress they did make seemed so insubstantial compared to all the work they had yet to do. It just wasn't enough. They needed more time, more money, more personnel…just more.
It was enough to make any lesser person cry, and though Miranda felt a hard lump in her throat, she did not give in to the impulse.
"…look who knows so much. It just so happens that your friend here is only mostly dead."
The voice drew her, and she gave it her full attention, raising herself up onto her elbows to watch the strange interaction onscreen.
"There's a big difference between mostly dead and all dead. Mostly dead is slightly alive."
Miranda watched the rest of the scene. Then she replayed it three more times, perched on the edge of her seat, elbows resting on her knees, long, slender fingers tapping her chin thoughtfully. Slightly alive, huh?
Without wasting a single moment, she bounced up onto her feet and quickly finished off the remainder of her stale ration, exiting the break room with renewed energy and resolve. No matter how frustrating the situation, small breakthroughs were still breakthroughs, and that was her window of opportunity. She could not afford to fail, not when so much was at stake. If there was one thing she was absolutely certain of regarding the project thus far, it was the fact that, despite all odds, Commander Shepard still retained the will to live…
Which still left room for a miracle.