Thank you for the favs and follows. The chapter contains a reference to the Mass Effect Foundation comics, following Jacob and Miranda's background. Originally I was going to reference the mobile game ME: Galaxy but realized that Foundation took part after those events. There is also another reference concerning the ME: Redemption series. Anyway, enjoy!
Electric blue pupils glanced forward, attempting to gain an impression of the young woman appearing within the hologram before a humans eyes. Slowly inhaling from a cigarette, a small smile played upon the corners of a man's lips as he drew a glass to greet them, the contents draining into his mouth. Placing the empty object down, he stubbed the lit tabaco into a small tray built within the chair that he was situated upon, extinguishing it into wisps of coloured fumes.
"Liara T'soni, an unexpected pleasure." A smooth, yet rugged voice addressed the holo.
The blue asari folded her arms, her freckled pigmentation creasing into an irritated expression.
"Dr. T'soni. Why didn't you tell me about Feron?" Liara glanced down, her features falling into a mixture of mourning and anger.
"My apologies Doctor. We needed Feron to believe he was in control, otherwise he might not have followed through on his agreement. Im sorry that you found out who he really worked for the hard way but it all turned out for the best. We have Shepard now and we can begin preparations to revive him." He promptly withdrew another cigarette from his suit's chest pocket, placing it between his index and middle finger.
"So you knew all along? You allowed him to work for you despite being employed by the Shadow Broker?" Liara questioned.
Tilting his head, the man ran a hand through his slick combed hair, now placing the cigarette bud between his lips to light it in an almost rhythmic fashion; obviously a habit of his.
"We all have secrets T'soni, some more than others." He inhaled again, allowing the smoke to seep out of his nostrils.
"It would seem that way... I hope you follow through upon our promise, otherwise I will have just sacrificed a close friend for nothing." The asari stared into the artificial eyes gazing upon her own.
The man smiled, inclining his head slightly.
"It is not a matter of hope Doctor. It is a matter of time. We will bring back Shepard, funding is not a concern. I have high hopes for success." Looking over his shoulder, the silhouette of his personal secretary glided into view; within her grasp glowed an orange data file that she quickly handed the man. Looking over the tablet, the unknown being nodded his head.
"You will hear from us soon, Dr. T'soni. Do not fear, Shepard is humanities, if not the whole galaxies best hope for survival. I need him as much as you do." Concluding, he lifted his hand to a small control interface situated next to his seat, ending the call.
Inhaling deeply, though without the cigarette, the man peered to back at his assistant.
"Jana, have Operative Lawson notified that the facilities are ready and operational, additionally make sure Wilson is aware of this. I expect an update from them within the day." The man stood from his chair. "Get in contact with Lilium as well to start researching possible candidates for a crew, including those blueprints of the Normandy that we seem to be struggling to acquire. Aliens are not an issue, as long as they are committed to the ideal that Shepard represents." He brought the lit object to his lips once more, wisps of smoke decorating the air, before turning fully to face an image of a large star, softly rotating in the background of his personal office.
"Also have Jacob Taylor stationed as the security head of the facilities. I need the best guarding the project." He placed his hands across his chest examining the wall of omni-projections displayed in front of the sun's window. "Someone sympathetic to the Commander's background."
"Yes sir." Came the hollow reply from the secretary.
Soft sliding of the office doors notified the man that his assistant had left, the human male walking back to his chair and placing himself comfortably within its frame. Pressing a button, a compartment opened within the arm rest, revealing another drink, most likely a form of whiskey that he cradled delicately within his grasp; the soft clinking of ice cubes against the glass filling the space. Sighing, he crossed his legs taking a small sip from the beverage as his luminous eyes intently gazed upon the dying gas giant.
"Seriously, you've been staring at those files for over an hour now. You'll have plenty of time to go over his records while we're rebuilding him." Wilson explained, rubbing his bald head, the stark surroundings creating an image on the polished skin atop his crown.
Miranda Lawson shook her head as they walked, the heels of her black and white slender catsuit echoing through the bare hallway. "Unlike you Wilson, I am a professional." She curtly replied, the hint of an Australian accent coating her words.
The man sighed in exasperation, familiar with the raven haired woman's cold and icy mannerisms. He looked down to the file within her hand as they continued their journey through the facilities.
"So what are you going over this time?" He asked.
"Medical records." Came the instant retort.
"And? Anything interesting?"
"He has asthma."
Wilson gave a puzzled look. "Commander Shepard had asthma?" He asked dumbfounded.
"No...But it proves how much of an idiot you are. You didn't even go over his medical background." She icily spoke.
"I...Of course I damn well did! I just don't have a photographic memory like someone here." Wilson spat.
Miranda didn't reply as the two came across a door way leading to another section of the medical laboratories. The Operative placed the data file in Wilson's hand as she entered her passcode into an access panel across from the entryway, the doors sliding open as it revealed a large white room with a two way mirror glancing onward to another area. Striding towards the glass, Miranda turned to face Wilson who had followed moments after.
"I will make this clear once; buck up. You're not in the Alliance anymore, nor in your own practice. You either pull your weight or I will make sure you end up with a fate worse than a redundant pay check." She warned.
Wilson snarled at the woman, shaking his head. "You don't get to pick Lawson. Only the boss has that power."
Miranda tilted her head to give a serious glare. "Wrong. This is my project, my rules. I won't allow us to fail due to some prick who thought he knew everything."
Snorting, the man rolled his eyes as he turned to leave the room, irritation radiating from the male as he cussed under his breath, clearly not wanting to be near the woman at this time; the entryways doors sliding open and closed once more as he passed through them.
"Bitch."
Miranda's modified hearing heard the insult, but decided to leave it be, her own point made rather clear by her last comment as she eyed Wilson leaving. Moments later she turned, facing the two way mirror to gaze at the doctors huddled over a charred corpse residing on a medical table, several IV drips and medical machinery primed and ready to use that hanged overhead.
"What's the situation?" She asked over the com system inbuilt within the next room.
One of the doctors looked up from his work, his face concealed in a small gas mask; eyes hidden by orange tinted goggles and green protective wear. His gloved hands were covered in a mixture of greyish red smearing akin to blood cells starting to decompose.
"A mess, it's hard to separate the armour from flesh; his entrance into the atmosphere must have merged the two together, not to mention the frozen temperatures akin to the planet. The Shadow Brokers men did an awful job on preserving the body." Came a reply.
"Any good news?" Miranda queried.
The Doctor looked down at the corpse of Commander Shepard, nodding his hidden face.
"Luckily yes, the helmet managed to keep the brain intact and none of his limbs are lost. It will take some work, his body will be the easiest to repair but the brain... Well that's another matter entirely."
"Did he die before or after atmosphere entrance?" The Operative asked out of curiosity.
"Before. The data pulled from his hard suit indicates a breach in oxygen supply after being ejected from the ship. Asphyxiation...So there will be brain damage that needs attention." The Doctor mused.
Miranda hung her head. "That could complicate things."
"Indeed. There is a possibility of identity loss, if we actually manage to get the brain working again." He concluded.
"I'm sure we will figure something out if the need arises." Miranda confirmed.
The doctor reached for a scalpel resting on a small tray besides the table. "Of course. I will send you an update to your personal omni soon."
"Have faith; Lazarus will succeed, despite the hurdles." Miranda finally commented as she withdrew from the mirror to walk silently from the operation room.
The soft illumination of a clinically stark room highlighted a tall, muscular frame; the beings appendages stretched outwards clasping a small weapon within its grasp, the object pointed intently towards the opposite end of the hall. A digit swiftly flipped off the safety catch embedded on the side of the M-5 Phalanx, the pistol erupting with a convulsion of power as the weapon unloaded several rounds into a target situated on the other end of the training room; marks hitting the centre of its head, mid chest and a single wound to the right shoulder.
Hand still held high and his right eye tightly squinted shut, Jacob Taylor ejected the spent thermal clip, a single bead of sweat tracing downward upon his dark complexion as he exhaled from bracing his frame. Lowering the weapon, Jacob turned from the firing range hearing the training room's door slide quietly open, the clicking of heels giving tale of the being entering the live field.
"You know those heels won't be good in a combat situation. I can hear you from a mile away." The tall man joked.
"I like to think of them as a warning signal." Operative Lawson smiled, walking towards the range, carrying a footlocker that seemed unnaturally large next to the woman's delicate, yet tall figure.
"What brings you to my humble training centre?" Jacob asked, his eyes catching sight of the object hanging from the woman's hand.
The Operative placed the large container upon a collection of weapons lockers next to the range, un-clipping the crate's catches with her slender fingers before turning to face Jacob, the man still stood with a firearm in his grip.
"I haven't seen you since our last encounter on Omega, you know, blowing up gangs and smashing Batarians. I thought we could catch up." Miranda spoke, her features seeming slightly warmer opposed to her typical icy exterior.
Grinning, the man traced the slight facial hair upon his chin, shrugging as he placed the Phalanx down next to its special casing situated upon a small workbench. "Huh...yeah. As I recall I had to save the day when you went after that Intel. I finally decided to leave the Alliance afterwards. A fresh start." He leaned against the modification table, arms folded.
"Speaking of new starts, I have something for you. A gift I suppose, for accepting the offer to join us." Miranda motioned toward the container she had carried moments ago.
Standing from the bench, Jacob paced to stand next to her, a questioning look spreading across his appearance. "Should I be scared?"
Miranda shook her head, smiling. Finally lifting the containers top compartment, it revealed a stylish black bodysuit; slick designs embedded into its frame with a polygon shaped pattern worked into the seams and side trims. Embroidered on the breast plate stood a white and orange logo, its shape similar to that of an elongated diamond with two fins extruding on the outside of its model. Taking the upper torso out of the compartment, Miranda handed it to Jacob.
"Don't worry about the fitting, it's all been sorted. The suit has been modified with an interface to help control your L3 implants so you don't over exert your biotics." She peered at the man as he inspected the armour. "It's made from an artificial polymer and flexi-fibre that can withstand large amounts of ware or heat, similar to my own."
Jacob nodded, pleased with the gift. "Thanks Miranda. It means a lot to me." He placed the armour back in the locker, closing the containers catches before he lifted it to rest by his feet.
"Welcome to Project Lazarus, Mr. Taylor."
The man pulled off a quick salute, no doubt a hall mark of his Alliance training.
"By the way, how's the reconstruction going?" He asked after finishing the military custom.
"Unknown for now, you can hardly tell the lump of flesh on the table was actually a person... Only time will tell what the true extent of damage has afflicted on Shepard's body. But it looks hopeful." Miranda replied.
"Mmm, sort of messed up to think we are actually bringing someone back from the dead, but considering the Commander's history I fully support it, even if it is a little morbid."
"There is a reason why we are called Lazarus Jacob." The Operative stated.
Smiling slightly, the man picked up the locker by his feet. "Yeah. Let me know if you need me Ms. Lawson." He said while stepping towards the exit of the firing range, the Operative watching him with cool regard as he left "Thanks again for the armour." The doors slid open and closed.