"Request denied, Ms. Lawson."
Miranda stifled a groan. A year after the Reaper War, and the Alliance was as foolish and hidebound as ever. "Our models are very promising. We could have all the benefits of the implants Cerberus used on their troops without mental degradation. If you would just allow me access to additional salvage."
The holographic Sanders wrinkled her nose. "Or we could just have more Paul Graysons. I barely survived the first one."
"I'm much more careful—not to mention saner—than either Nuri or my father." Her eyes narrowed. "Which you know. What's really going on?"
"It's the truth. We regulate research on Reaper technology for a reason. There's still so much we don't understand, so much danger that it could still pose. We have to control who we allow access carefully."
And then she understood. "And I'm a risk because I was a Cerberus officer. Allowing me to work on Reaper technology makes the other races nervous and Hackett has worked so very hard to create a new era of cooperation. I heard his little speech."
Sanders had the decency to look embarrassed. "I do think it would be best for you to stick to conventional research." Her smile was probably supposed to be friendly, but it made Miranda's skin crawl. Sanders looked like a primary school teacher trying to console a child who had been picked last for sports. "You've got things most people would kill for. Don't overreach and screw it all up." She ended the call and Miranda was left alone.
She turned to survey the apartment. Sanders was right; she did have a great deal. The Silversun Strip had sustained only light damage in the last battle, so the elite congregated here. She had her father's resources, even if a majority of them had vanished into Sanctuary. Ori was safe and loved her. Frederick loved her too. He had completed his rehabilitation at last. They were going to have a long and happy life together. She could have everything she ever dreamed of when she was cold and starving on the run from Cerberus. All she had to do was be a law-abiding citizen and keep her head down. Millions of people did that every day.
Frederick walked in. She had all but rebuilt him from scratch a second time when they pulled him from the rubble, and Miranda took a moment to admire her handiwork. High, prominent cheekbones. Thick blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. This was what she could to when she was given free reign. And she could do so much more. She cocked her head to one side. Today, though, he looked pale. Anxious. She sat on the couch and patted the space next to her. "What's wrong?"
He waved her away. "Hackett wants me promoted to Major. Commander of the Shanxi garrison. I asked to be transferred to the Relief Response Team, but no dice. Too dangerous, he says. Dad would be rolling over in his grave."
Miranda cringed. Philip Shepard had been a medic in the First Contact War, decorated for valor on multiple occasions. His son had intended to follow in his footsteps, but then his biotics had manifested, dictating a career in special operations. A sinecure like commanding the Shanxi garrison was an insult to both legacies. "What did you say?"
"I haven't said anything yet." He leaned back. "But I have to do more than polish my dress blues when the PM comes to visit on Armistice Day. You saw what London was like after. And some of the colonies are even worse. There are cases ofcholera—cholera in the twenty-second century!— on Mindoir because the Alliance can't be bothered to repair the infrastructure. And forget about sending good doctors." He shook his head. "I should've insisted on staying in med school. I could've done so much more good."
She allowed herself a smile. "You saved the galaxy. I think that rates pretty highly."
He shrugged. "I shot a bunch of people and I shouted a lot. If there's any justice in the world, you'll be remembered long after I am. I shall forever be the boyfriend of the woman who conquered death." He dodged Miranda's shoulder punch. "And you? You were looking kind of pissed yourself."
"Sanders turned down my proposal. Officially, it's too risky. Unofficially, they don't want ex-Cerberus anywhere near Reaper tech. Idiots! I saw what Leng was like after he came back from Grissom. He should've been in a wheelchair for the rest of his life. I could do that and more, if only I could get my hands on Reaper tech."
Frederick studied her. His public image was of a brash and boisterous soldier, but the real man was a scientist who analyzed everything. Including her. "That's what I love about you. Always wanting to make the impossible possible."
It was her turn to shrug. "I have the ability. I should use it to help humanity, Aish Ashland squanders her inheritance on red sand or worse. And my father, my father used his tremendous intellect to create Sanctuary. I won't be like them. If I could just convince the Alliance to give me access to Reaper technology."
His gaze intensified. "You really think you could help people with this?"
"What I did with Lazarus was impressive, but the economics make a repeat impossible for decades to come. But the implants would be far cheaper. I could restore mobility to those disabled in the war, make a safer graybox technology, and who knows what else."
"Then... I think you should continue the research without Alliance approval," he said slowly. "Petrovsky and his team left a lot of the tech beyond the relay behind when we kicked them off Omega. Aria owes me several dozen favors. There's a couple of garden worlds you could use as a base if she doesn't want you conducting experiments on the station."
She thought. It was doable, not that different from setting up a Cerberus cell. One Lawson Corp subsidiary could pose as a science team re-creating Frederick's famous voyage beyond the Omega 4 relay to better understand their construction. Another would ferret supplies needed for the actual tests to Lorek on the pretext of resuming trade with the now-independent colony. And she would simply take a long vacation or disappear for as long as she needed to oversee day-to-day operations on site. "It would all be very, very illegal. I'd have to be careful to stay under the Alliance's radar. Almost like being in Cerberus again."
"We'd have to give up the apartment. Go back to eating processed food. No more almost losing our shirts at roulette."
They looked at each other. Frederick was right; no more of the comforts or acclaim they had won for their actions in the war. No more being patted on the head and used as ornaments. No more of this pretty, gilded cage. And hadn't she run from the gilded cage as soon as she was able? "No more normal life. But I don't think I want normal. I think I want to work, to serve as best I can for as long as I can."
"I don't think I want normal either. This project of yours: could you use a lab assistant? I mean, my biology degree should be useful for something and—"
She stopped him with a kiss. "One of these days I'll figure out what I did to deserve you. Most men would mind their girlfriends running into the Terminus to change the world."
He smiled at her. "Well, like you said, I did save the galaxy. I think my ego can take dating a brilliant, driven, idealistic woman. In fact, I wouldn't have it any other way." He put his arm around her. "Come on, partner. Let's stir up some trouble."
