2195 CE, New Canton (Present Day)

A look at the chrono showed that he'd taken an inordinate amount of time emerging and he was mildly surprised that she didn't comment on it. But when he arrived at the niche used as a dining hall, it was made clear. Scattered around her side of the table were various datapads. Her attention was riveted to the one she held while her other hand was toying absent-mindedly with a stylus which she lifted occasionally to chew.

He towelled his head vigorously and pulled back the chair on the other side.

"Haven't had a productive enough day?"

Their arrival on-planet had involved one rush after another, despite Admiral Hackett's orders expediting their way. Registering their IDs, ironing out the land leash, locating and modifying their living quarters to satisfaction took the better part of the month. It was only recently that things had settled enough to establish a routine where they'd go about their own business during the day. But there was an implicit understanding that nights would be time they share, an attempt to update each other on what they'd gone through in the years that was the Reaper War.

Miranda looked up with a self-depreciating look.

"Sorry, thought I could finish reading this chapter before you were done."

Shepard pushed aside the nagging voice in his head that said they'd not done much in terms of connecting since settling here. He made a conscious effort to ignore that voice and broke the unspoken rule himself by asking, "How are your studies coming along?"

"Like taking a step backwards actually." She said as she arranged the datapads in a stack. "I'm of course familiar with the basics from my studies in bio-engineering, although it's been years since I've given it thought. Studying for the certification on human medicine feels like a refresher course."

He smiled at her. "I'm sure it'll come back to you. You've never been at a loss over anything you put your mind to."

"Yes. But it feels strange working my way into a new job. It's been a long time since I've had to do that." She shrugged. "I suppose it's something I have to get used to again."

He had nothing to say to that, and tried to mask his lack of words by poking at his plate with a fork. The cuisine was a far cry from what was the norm on city-worlds: mostly synthetics and essential amino-acids in a nutritious package with sauces to make the entire set-up more palatable. Neither he nor Miranda made any pretence at being good at cooking. For most of their lives, food had been simply necessary sustenance to provide energy for work they had to do. Although without more pressing things to occupy their mind, the lack of refinement for something as simple as food was beginning to chaff.

He had to wonder if she felt the same when she picked at her plate with the same listlessness.

After a while, she looked up and asked with a too-cheerful smile, "So how was your day?"

"Would you believe me if I say I spent the better part of an hour figuring how to work a plough-sledge?"

She shook her head shortly.

"I suppose the Alliance military forgot to include that one on your training list."

"Makes me wish I could slap a FTL drive or a Gardian laser on it. At least I know how to handle those."

"That'd be overkill, even for you," she pointed out mildly. "Besides, such things aren't relevant anymore, are they?"

"No." Shepard said ruefully after a while. "I guess it's the same with me. Didn't think starting from scratch again would be this hard."

There was a brief silence until Miranda finally pushed her dish aside, abandoning the pretence of eating.

"John, have you thought of what you intend to do after this?"

He studied her from under his brows.

"Feeling bored already, Miranda?"

"No!" She said with more feeling than usual. Leaving her seat, she walked over to the window. "I appreciate this chance for a breather, I do. But surely you can't be thinking of driving plough-sledges here for the rest of your life."

Shepard shrugged.

"Maybe that's what I'm thinking. And besides, why not?"

"Because I know you." She turned around to face him, eyes troubled. "You're as chronically incapable as I am of sitting around when there's so much left to be done. The Reapers may be gone, but the geth and quarian governments are on the brink of war. The asari are threatening to splinter away from the Council. They gave you command of their forces and you led them to victory. I can't think of a better person to advocate a stand down before tempers hit the point of no return."

Shepard swallowed hard. If only she knew he was the one who gave the order that cost five billion human lives. But as unerringly as before, her point hit uncomfortably close to home. I can't, he wanted to tell her. I don't even know if I want to anymore.

One thing was sure. He couldn't expect her to put her life on hold for him. Even if she was willing to do so, he couldn't bear it. That she was disturbed at his apparent apathy was obvious enough. He knew the ground between them was shakier than ever, and staring at the risk of losing her in the face, he decided to break a rule once held sacrosanct between them.

He rose from his seat and walked the distance separating them.

"I don't know if I'd be any good to anyone right now." He was thankful he didn't have to feign the weariness in his voice. "I don't show it much but I'm tired, Miranda. I really am. And how can I be the one to argue for peace when I represent the face of war for the better part of a decade?"

She bit her lip and hesitated before saying, "Once upon a time, I'd have been the first to say the galaxy has no need for heroes. But people like you, Mordin, Garrus, even Jack proved me wrong. Would it be so hard to inspire others to follow your lead again?"

"No, no." He groaned. "You're the last person I expected to pull that one on me. I've had more than enough of people accepting my decisions without a thought. Whenever I think about taking the easy way, I couldn't help but hear your voice. I can't count the number of times you've kept me honest."

She studied him, as if searching for a hint of sarcasm. Failing to find anything, she shrugged.

"You give me too much credit. The fact we stand here is proof that you did make the right choices after all."

Shepard crossed his arms and stared out of the window.

"Except I could've made a bigger difference if I'd thought faster or acted more decisively. I should've replaced Admiral Han'Gerrel's fleet with another garrison around the orbit of Sanves. Twenty-three million dead asari just to save a third of the quarian flotilla…"

Miranda sighed.

"Your forces were spread thin. There was no way you could foresee the Reapers would hit that system. And we both know the only thing you'll find down that road is endless recrimination."

"I know." He took a deep breath. "Doesn't make it any easier, but I know. And that's all I'm asking for: time to get away from it, to make peace with myself. After this… all bets are off."

She conceded reluctantly. "We could both use a bit of that. But maybe you should take this time to ask yourself what is it you want now that the Reapers are gone. You time is, as you said, your own now."

Shepard frowned.

"Tell me. Why did you agree to join me here?"

She was silent for a while.

"Maybe I'm taking a page off Mordin's book? Taking up medical practice here seemed like a good change from all the destruction. And god knows there's so much that needs to be rebuilt."

He raised an inviting eyebrow.

"A page off Mordin's book?"

"He and I worked together for several years, researching on indoctrination." She didn't look at him again when she replied. "He helped keep me sane, but died before he could see the work through."

He'd heard about the salarian scientist's death from some passing aide during a war council, and stowed his grief away in lieu of more pressing matters. But this was the first time he'd heard that Miranda was with Mordin.

"What happened?"

"Old age." There was a hitch in her voice. "He hid it well, didn't utter a word of complaint until the end."

That she cared enough to openly grieve for a non-human was surprising to Shepard, but it was part of what he was beginning to suspect: she'd undergone her own share of pain and loss even as he was moving fleets and losing civilian populations for the better part of the decade.

Wordlessly, Shepard reached for her shoulders to draw her near, even as inwardly he was terrified. Don't push me away, please. To his relief, she gave the slightest of resistance before burying her face in the crook of his neck.

They stood there at the window as the gas giant revolved infinitesimally across the sky, trailed by a parade of moons. On his part, Shepard was simply content to hold her. One month, and tonight was the best progress they'd made towards bridging the gap between each other. How long would it take, he wondered.

She finally sighed and rested her head against his shoulder.

"It's stupid to be crying, isn't it? Mordin's led a full life. Even now, they're writing biographies of him. He'd be laughing if he knew, no matter how he talked like he wished it'd happen."

Shepard smiled, recalling his own conversations with the salarian. Was she regaled with a song number as well? He decided to give it a wild shot. "No biography of Mordin would be complete without mentioning his musical talents."

Miranda looked at him in astonishment. "You too?"

"It was one of the few times I was stumped, although it may be because nobody could squeeze a word in edge-wise whenever he talked. Or sang."

She laughed softly before disengaging from him to look up, challenge glinting in her blue eyes.

"You've asked your question. Now it's my turn. I noticed when we were on board that ship a berth had been reserved for me. Same thing with my name in the colony registration form. How could you be so sure I'd join you?"

Shepard shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh, that. Yeah, well, I figured it was better to be safe than sorry. You know how long these things can take."

"John..." She pinned him with a knowing look.

He winced, but confession was probably the best retreat here.

"All right, I made an assumption, I admit it. But it was the right call, wasn't it?"

"You can be such an arse, you know that?"

"I'm that." He grinned judiciously. "Your very own unrepentant arse."

She shook her head in fond exasperation, long dark hair falling past to hide her face.

Emboldened, he reached down to tuck the strands behind her ear before lifting her chin to meet his mouth. She hesitated for a while before falling in with him, her tongue reaching out to meet his. Thus began a tentative interplay. His foray for a deeper taste of her mouth was met with a chastening nip of her teeth. She smiled against his lips before sucking lightly on his tongue. The motion of returning measure with measure went on until the world began spinning from the lack of air. When they broke away slightly to catch their breath, he brought both arms securely around her and drew in until their bodies were flushed against one another.

Her involuntary shiver gave him the courage to seek the delectable skin of her neck. Experience guided him as he brushed his stubble-roughened cheek against her throat eliciting a sigh from her. He let his hands wander beneath her sweater, one sliding down the bare skin of her back, fingers pressed down just above the flare of her hips to keep her lower body close. He moved his other hand to the front, reaching to cup the generous swell of her breast, thumb brushing against her nipple. He grinned when that drew a moan from her. It was nice to know that no matter what, some things didn't change.

She must've caught his train of thought, because she released her hands around his neck to slip them beneath the waistband of his pants and clutch his buttocks so that their lower halves ground against each other.

"Oh, fuck!" He exclaimed at the contact even as she laughed.

"Payback can be such a bitch," she whispered triumphantly into his ear.

He growled in mock annoyance and claimed her mouth again. Few moments could rival this, Shepard thought as their breathing grew harsh; the one that came to mind was their first lovemaking, on the deck of the Normandy's engine room with the mass effect core thrumming above their entwined bodies. It'd been so long since they were last together he couldn't help but react, a condition that became outright uncomfortable pressed against her stomach. When he shifted to ease the pressure off his erection, she froze. And then she did the unexpected. She put both hands on his chest and pushed him away.

"I…I can't."

Dawning terror bloomed on Miranda's face as she stepped backwards until she was up against the window.

Shepard shook his head in confusion.

"Why?"

"I can't. I really can't." She repeated, anguish evident in her voice. "I'm sorry."

She ran past him, straight into her room and slammed the door shut. After a few minutes, Shepard cursed silently. He flung one hand up in an angry gesture, unleashing a wave of biotic energy that threw the window wide open. Hands gripping the bottom pane, he let the cold air wash over him, chilling his heated skin. It was a long while before he moved again.

-~o~-

Miranda heard the crash of the window panes striking the outside walls of the prefab unit from her spot behind the door, and then deep silence. She finally allowed herself to slide soundlessly to the floor, head against the cool surface of the metal door.

How did she let herself be so careless, she wondered dazedly even as her body struggled to come down from the sexual high, the muscles in her nether regions aching from the anticipation. Uncharacteristic rage gradually began filling up the empty void within her, rage that had no outlet, nowhere to spend itself on. She wanted to scream, to rail at the injustice of it all, but all that emerged was a dry-throated laugh. Did she imagine this day would come when she made the choice? How could she?

She drew her legs up, ignoring the wetness between her thighs, and locked her arms tightly around them. Resting her head against her knees, she gazed at the cheap carpet that lined the floor, seeing but not comprehending. In that position, the tension in her body gradually eased to bearable levels. Vague frustration coloured her thoughts as she drifted into a state of between sleep and consciousness.

-~o~-

2188 CE, Esperance Station

"I still empathically disagree that we should use humans as baseline! Asari commandos have an innate ability to withstand indoctrination. Should anything go wrong, it's likely the asari who will be carrying out the missions. Working on an asari-compatible vaccine is the only reasonable solution."

Jela Myria, a renowned scientist, emphasized her point by slamming her palm on the table. She was vivid shade of maroon, an unusual skin tone for an asari, although her flushed features were making her edge towards the red end of the spectrum at the moment.

"Have to disagree. Makes perfect sense. Diversity in human gene pool proven widest of all sapient species. Only human subjects capable of accounting for variations in experimental outcomes. Also, must keep in mind percentage of human forces engaging in strikes. Numbers not negligible enough to consider concentrating on human-compatible vaccine nepotism."

Jela pinned Mordin with a hostile stare.

"Professor Solus, we've heard that argument countless of times. But is that all there is to it? Did you imagine that nobody else in this room apart from you and Ms. Lawson would know of your connection with the human terrorist group known as Cerberus?"

She drawled out the name Ms. Lawson subtly enough to imply insult but not enough to take outright offense at. Sitting at the head of the table, Miranda gazed at the Asari matriarch coolly.

"Fallacy in reasoning, Jela. Cerberus involvement crucial in preserving base information. Primary reason why we are sitting here right now."

She'd been assigned the role of project coordinator because they were to work with information retrieved from Cerberus' databases by Alliance forces, information that she'd helped put there after the base assault three years ago.

"And why did the information take so long to surface? Should I suspect our human allies had something to do with the tardiness? Perhaps Cerberus isn't as gutted as we'd imagine. Perhaps I should be worried that we still have their sympathisers in our midst."

Iskandar Mohammad, from the University of Mozambique, Earth cut in smoothly, "Excuse me for being blunt, but shouldn't we be concerned about getting on with the work instead of pointing fingers at each other now?"

Faresh'Daro, the quarian engineer raised his hand hesitantly.

"I think we can all agree that we have limited resources. I can understand the need to work on a human vaccine as long as the work doesn't stop there."

"That is my point, Faresh. How are we to know the work won't stop there? When it has been proven that this information came from an organisation that promoted human supremacy at the expense of all other species in the galaxy?"

It'd been one month since the team entered the Omega-4 relay to retrieve more samples from the derelict base. Never mind that they'd had to resort to a far smaller ship than the Normandy SR2, with a Reaper IFF transponder culled from a destroyed hull and installed at the last minute, or with a far less experienced pilot than Jeff Moreau. Since then, research work had been stalled for a whole month plagued by bickering, accusations and insinuations of hidden agendas primarily from Jela Myria.

Clamping down on her irritation, Miranda broke in smoothly, "Professor Myria, I can assure you we will extend our work to encompass other species. Security concerns make it impossible for me to reveal the original directive, but my orders were crystal clear."

"What security concerns? I'm on the asari government's need-to-know list. Unless you can convince me there isn't another hidden agenda towards advocating for a human-based vaccine, I cannot take your word for it."

Miranda gazed at the assembled people in the meeting room. Myria was the biotechnologist. Mordin was the geneticist, Faresh an AI expert and molecular-engineer, and Mohammad a xenobiologist. Her own bio-engineering expertise and knowledge on human biology completed the mix. Witnessing the entire proceeding in silence was Colonel Ian Ravkas of the Alliance Navy, titular commander of the space station they were based in. He was also a science man who would assist them in devising the vaccine's release vector to complement military strikes.

In any other circumstance, it was an exemplary team.

"You're demanding proof of something that isn't there. And we both know negative evidence can never be conclusive. Even if I was in a position to disclose the information, you're not likely to be satisfied. So what exactly is your issue?"

"Why did it take so long for this human commander, Shepard to decide that we need to understand the underlying principles of indoctrination? How long did the information about nanotechnology being at the heart of indoctrination lay buried in human databases? Why order asari commandos to disable reaper cores knowing they will fail?"

Tears stood visibly in Jela's eyes, and even Mohammad, a usually smooth and suave man, shifted uncomfortably.

Miranda tried to work sympathy into her expression.

"I heard about the loss of your daughter and I'm sorry for your grief. I'm sure there'll be no lack of tribunals to assign due blame when this is all over. But more so than ever, our work cannot stop. We must create that human-based vaccine."

Myria stared at her distantly.

"Typical response from someone who doesn't know what it's like to lose a loved one in the frontlines. What's the point of accountability after the deed is done? No matter." She looked away, as if dismissing everything from her mind. "I've had enough of all this human bureaucratic weaselling. Find yourself a replacement biotechnologist. Put me on a ship back to Thessia."

"All the mass relays from here to Thessia are destroyed. Alternative routes must go through Reaper-controlled space. I can't afford to waste time or resources looking for a replacement. I sincerely ask you to reconsider, Professor Myria."

"I gave you my answer. Even if I must remain here, I want nothing more to do with your disingenuous schemes."

Miranda closed her eyes, wishing inwardly it didn't have to come to this.

"Colonel Ravkas."

"Ma'am."

"Are supplies accounted for? Non-essential spacecraft and personnel transferred off-station?"

"All done."

"Thank you. As of now, I am placing this station under martial law. Nobody gets on or off it without my permission. All extranet traffic will be restricted to research purposes." She crossed her arms, taking in the shocked faces around the room. "We're going to create the vaccine, starting with the human-compatible before adapting it for asari, salarian and turian physiologies. And we're not leaving until we're done."

"You can't do this to us! We didn't take sides!" Faresh'Daro spluttered even as ominous murmurs began in the background.

Jela hissed. "On whose authority do you make these decisions?"

"The Systems Alliance military, and your respective governments. If you must verify that, Colonel Ravkas will patch you through the appropriate channels. I'd suggest you hurry, assuming you can still get through with the Reaper fleet out there destroying relays. Once you're done, it would be in your interest to apply yourself to the task if you wish to leave."

"This is an outrage! If you think my government would abide such treatment to its citizens, you're very much mistaken." Jela shoved her chair back and prepared to walk out of the room.

Miranda drew her heavy pistol in a smooth motion and fired a shot at the door.

Everyone froze.

"You are the one who's mistaken, Professor Myria." She levelled the weapon at Myria. "I'm simply dispensing with the bureaucratic weaselling you just complained about. You may also want to keep in mind that martial law means I can summarily arrest without trial anyone who's found attempting to sabotage the project."

Nobody said a word in the subsequent silence, although Faresh seemed to be on his way to a permanent foetal position in his seat.

Effect achieved, Miranda thumbed the lock back on and placed the pistol in clear view on the table.

"I regret the need for this. If it wasn't clear, this team is more than capable of producing the results." She made the point of looking at everyone in the room. "We must. Our governments are depending on us. The galaxy is depending on us."

Shocked faces continued to stare back at her. She looked down at a datapad, and tried to recapture her previous business-like tone.

"Synthesis of genetic samples is proceeding smoothly. Faresh, please step up your dissection of the mechanical counterparts. I want to begin examining how the bio-synthetic components work hand-in-hand to alter neurological functions in no more than three weeks."

Faresh managed to uncurl enough to mumble acknowledgement.

"If there's nothing else, this meeting is adjourned."

The room emptied out as she snagged Rakvas for a brief whisper.

"I want Jela Myria placed on suicide watch. Discreetly."

Ravkas nodded understanding before taking his leave.

What wouldn't I've given to have your way with words. Miranda sighed, allowing herself the brief luxury of thinking about Shepard. It was likely she'd burned all bridges with Myria with the team distrusting her now more than ever, but it couldn't be helped.

Except for one individual. Mordin was still in his seat, regarding her with a bemused expression.

"Harsh but necessary. Applaud your courage."

"I wonder if they've realised the Reapers already have us confined to the station and the only relevant point is my threat on saboteurs?"

"Probably not. Non-combatants after all." Mordin observed with his usual equanimity. "Perfectly acceptable practice for you and me. Actually noted your measures in place two weeks ago."

She shook her head.

"Does anything ever escape you?"

"Not infallible. But object to Jela's slurs on your ability. Foresee more resentment of your authority if rest of the team thinks the same. Have to find a way to pre-empt that."

"Doesn't matter. I didn't need academic certifications to head the Lazarus Project, and I don't need them now. Proof of my worth will come, one way or another."

She sat down, and gazed at Mordin thoughtfully.

"How do you do it, Mordin? Stay calm in the face of such odds?"

"All ties accounted for. Lived a full life, have no regrets. More fortunate than some." He looked at her. "Heard anything from Shepard?"

"He said he was going beyond the Perseus Veil to gather the geth forces in his last message." Her brow furrowed in worry. "That was three weeks ago."

Mordin reached out to tweak his cranial horn. "Confess, still find human courtship and mating behaviour puzzling. Although may explain that tendency for two units to form a basic breeding pair has effect in creating diversity in human genome."

Despite knowing the salarian for years, there were times when his mental leaps still took Miranda by surprise.

"Monogamy wasn't always the norm." She pointed out, toying with her datapad. "And I'm not sure it's been around long enough to have that effect."

"Likely insufficient data at present. But balanced birth ratios and established tendency to mate with one partner at a time suggest stable status quo. Not implausible to find stronger evidence in a few centuries' time."

If we live past the current extinction threat... It was a long time since she'd given it thought, but at his words, the memory of reading about Noah's ark from her childhood came to mind, the rare times when she forced reality to take a backseat in favour of an imaginary world. She'd long since lost that ability. Inevitably as it did now, the image conjured up dread.

"I hope we won't need to go on board the ark, two by two, this time."

"Ah. Christian biblical reference. Hard to imagine, but are you a believer?"

"I was never one. But it made for a great story as a child." Unable to dislodge her newfound dread, she said a little desperately. "I've been meaning to ask: I've read about salarian breeding contracts, but what actually happens?"

Mordin's lips split widely. On a human, she would say it was a salacious smile. He lifted a finger. And then followed that with all six digits.

"One female. Many males."

Miranda smiled despite her mood.

"That sounds strangely refreshing. How do your women stand being pawed over?"

"No physical contact involved. Fortunately or unfortunately. Egg-laying species. Unfertilised eggs hatch into males. Fertilised become females. Each male partner allowed to fertilise one egg."

"I see why you think our courtship behaviour baffling. No physical contact would be quite the letdown."

"Hormones can be very inconvenient. You have my sympathy."

"You'll excuse me if I don't respond to that." She chuckled, even as Mordin's lips twitched. "So what happens if a male tries to, ah, overstep his boundaries?"

"Communal affair. Female's clan-mates stand guard against unsanctioned moves. Quite a good deterrent actually."

"Another of those big differences…" She shook her head. "Do you have children of your own?"

"Contract negotiation takes too long. STG work more important. More than one way to leave mark of existence in galaxy. Foresee children in the future yourself?"

Mordin must have sensed her sudden mood change, and asked carefully.

"Intruding? Apologies, didn't mean offense."

"No. It's all right." Miranda stared at the datapad in her hands before making her decision.

"It's just awhile back, I found out I wouldn't be able to conceive naturally. It's not irreversible, I think. I didn't have the time to learn more, what with Shepard getting captured and the rest of us on the run," she said, gazing at the opposite wall of the room. "Not that it matters now..."

Mordin coughed politely. "Beg to differ. Salarians lack concept of sexual love, but universal for all species to have emotional investment in future. Survival mechanism."

"I know. But that's so academic. Knowing it doesn't count somehow… "

"Need to feel to understand? Not immune myself. Tendency for scientists to overlook: sometimes, most effective answers are emotional ones."

She looked at him.

"You're a wise man, Mordin."

To her surprise, he turned away in embarrassment.

"Harboured fear once would spend twilight years on home-world as armchair philosopher. Traditional. Much better here instead. Humans have a saying: no rest for the wicked? Very apt personally."

Miranda laughed. "That's as good a reasoning as any."

-~o~-

2190 CE, Esperance Station

She'd strapped herself to an operating table, leaving only one hand free. Her other arm was punctured with needles and wires linked to a series of monitoring equipment. On a side table were two syringes. The few millimetres of plasma in one was swimming with hundreds of thousands of bio-synthetic indoctrination nanites, grown in lab conditions. The "cure"-a similar number of prototypical nanobots hung suspended in plasma within another syringe.

It was deep in the night cycle. Earlier in the day, the team had committed one of their best to the embrace of a star. Professor Mordin Solus, the brilliant salarian geneticist had passed away in his sleep the night before.

From working exclusively with humans in Cerberus, she now counted far more aliens as colleagues and friends in the war against the Reapers. It was cliché as hell, but still funny how necessity altered one's sense of perception. And out of the vast number of blue, brown, variegated, tusked faces she'd grown accustomed to over the years, the visage of Mordin was one that said oldest and dearest friend.

She hadn't seen Shepard in over two years. They'd exchanged the occasional letter, once every few months, short missives that spoke little of what they did, but more of their feelings—fears and hopes for the ongoing events, and always, the unspoken wish that they would meet again soon. The last one she'd received dated six months ago. No one knew where Shepard was, and what news drifted in painted horrific pictures of entire planets being harvested and the resistance shredded away by heavy fire and severe losses.

She sobbed openly on this night, of all nights, where loss and despair seemed like walls caving in around her, and tried to firm her resolve for the job at hand.

Two years onboard this space station, fighting as surely as Shepard still was, except her fight was against time to produce an indoctrination vaccine for strike forces to board Reapers and destroy their mass effect cores. They stood at the cusp of death or delivery. If the human version proved viable, work could begin immediately to customise the nanites for the other species.

"The time is Earth Standard 0115, April 10, 2190. I've revoked my security clearance and shut down manual overrides. Monitoring and recording systems are isolated and online. I'm doing this is because there's no time left for a formal trial and my accelerated healing ability means no other human on-station is better suited to this field test than myself.

"My specialisation is bio-engineering and human biology. Should this human-compatible vaccine work, then my job is done, and I'm no longer indispensable. To that end, I've unlocked access to my research and personal files, and am effectively transferring control of the project and this station to my second-in-command Colonel Ian Ravkas of the Alliance Navy. In the event I survive, all my standing orders will remain in place. There's no guarantee I'll be free of indoctrination."

With a deep breath, she plunged the syringe into her arm.