Chapter 3

Miranda Lawson looked across the desolation of the war torn city of London. Noxious winds blew from the west, cool but cloying. The smell of decay was everywhere and the residue from the cataclysmic battle that raged here for months on end could be seen in every direction. Nothing had escaped the devastation of the war. What once were majestic buildings were now only piles of rubble on the ground. Land and aircraft were haphazardly strewn in every direction like crumpled tin cans, while casualties, both injured and dying, numbering too many for the counting filled the empty spaces in between. Swarms of emergency crews and vehicles were aiding and transporting the wounded to the nearest mobile hospitals, while others rigorously scoured the area for survivors. Human and turian, salarian and krogan, each were helping the other—no past offence dividing them in this moment of hard won victory.

As her eyes canvassed the grey landscape, black clouds thundered overhead. The sky was dark, but blissfully empty of Reapers. Eight hours before, without warning or sign, a red hue blanketed the skies and then the enemy had disintegrated in front of her eyes, the soot of their remains slowly sifting down like dirty snow falling from tainted heavens. The enemy ground forces met with a similar fate, abruptly collapsing, then withering and decaying with a frenzied rapidity reminiscent of paper set to flame. All that remained of them was dust and ash. Or so it seemed. The ex-Cerberus officer wasn't convinced this war was over, but she couldn't deny that there was some kind of momentary reprieve. At least on Earth. As far as she knew, nobody had heard from their allies since the fortuitous albeit unexpected triumph.

Although she refused to let her guard down completely, Miranda had no defense against the sense of awe and astonishment that overtook her when she thought of the Reapers being gone. Just when the battle had appeared hopeless, when the Alliance troops were awash in a tide of enemies that seemed to have no limit, the tables were turned. Like a cleansing fire, the wave of red energy purged the Reapers it touched and promptly ended the conflict. The Reapers were no more. Turned to dust. Her relief and amazement were mixed with a bubbling euphoria- an uncharacteristic girlish giddiness which she attributed to her mental and physical exhaustion. She had seen many fantastic and wondrous events in her life, but this is the first one that brought the word 'miracle' to her mind.

She didn't know what caused the end of the Reapers, but she knew that Shepard was somehow involved. The commander had always been crafty, tenacious and single-minded in her pursuit to defeat the enemy, but when she said her goodbye over the vid comm, Miranda had noticed that the Spectre's features were tired, drawn in, and there was a new gauntness to her cheeks revealing that she was losing more than just sleep. The stresses of war were tangible beyond the commander's appearance though. Even through the holographic display, she could hear the weariness in the commander's voice, see the fatigue in her stance, yet when she spoke of the Reapers her countenance shifted and a familiar sight brought hope to Miranda's heart and reminded her of the depth of her loyalty, her friendship to the Spectre and from where those bonds sprung. It was the look in Shepard's eyes. Although the dirt and scars of many battles were plainly evident on the commander's tarnished armor, her eyes held the same fierce, cold as steel gaze, unflinching and unyielding, that she had seen before diving into the Omega 4 Relay. The commander led the Normandy straight through the gates of hell, but amazingly brought everyone back alive. Seeing that uncompromising look once again made her remember, made her believe. In that moment, she felt as though the Alliance and allied forces could conquer their enemies. And because of that look, she knew Shepard had a hand in ending this war. She didn't know it in her head; she knew it in her heart.

The former Cerberus officer silently chuckled to herself. Before hanging around with Shepard she would never have followed her heart, she would have followed her duty and the logical course of action, but that was the kind of influence the commander wielded. Not only did she sway people by her heroic actions, but by her character—her courage, candor, competence and commitment. Being in Shepard's presence, watching her work, becoming her friend, had changed Miranda, and for the better, she believed. Because of the example Shepard set, the high standard of excellence coupled with patient and persistent focus on group cohesion, her own leaderships skills had grown along with the confidence in her own abilities. Her friend had helped her overcome longstanding insecurities stemming from a childhood of admonishment and deprecation.

Miranda continued to make her way through the Alliance's main camp and headed toward their base of command—one of the only abandoned buildings left standing after the Reaper assault. Soldiers eyed her warily, her lack of military armor or insignias only some of the reasons for their interest. Another was her choice of uniform—a skintight black leather jumpsuit with gold tinting that hugged every inch of her body in boldly provocative ways. If not for the sweat and dirt smudges on her face along with the various cuts and bloodstains on her thighs and arms, she would have looked picture perfect. Somehow though, through all the chaos of the last few hours, her shoulder length, black hair had managed to stay pristine.

When she arrived at the command center's entrance, she was scanned for the second time since entering the compound. After the security officers allowed her through, she was greeted by a female soldier, a Lieutenant Commander whose haunted expression matched every other soldier she had seen. It was the look of someone who would forever be marked by all the suffering and death they had witnessed.

"Ms. Lawson," said the officer, curtly. "I'm Lieutenant Commander Weiss. Thank you for coming so promptly." Despite the filth of the area, the Alliance officer had managed to maintain some semblance of cleanliness. Her battle fatigues were buttoned, tucked and belted. Her strawberry blond hair was pulled back into a pony-tail. At first glance she looked as though she was in her early twenties, but her weary dark blue eyes belonged to a woman who was much older than that. If not in years, then in experience.

"When Alliance brass requests my aid, my curiosity can't help but be piqued." Prior to this war, the valuable intel that the ex-Cerberus officer had delivered to the Alliance was met with skepticism and caution, along with the sincerity of her motivations. Miranda understood their prudence and held no ill will, but the fact that they were now seeking her out specifically made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. Something was amiss. "Why am I here?"

Stoically, Weiss answered, "I am not at liberty to say."

After little to no sleep in the last thirty-six hours and a four mile trek on foot across a wasteland of debris, Miranda was less than amused. She cocked her right hand on her hip and struck her characteristic pose of irritation. "Then who the bloody hell is?"

"Follow me." Without waiting for a reply, Weiss turned on her heel and headed toward the back of the building.

Miranda shook her head, but took a step forward and followed the blond-haired woman's path.

The corridor was dark, lit by faint globes that gave off a wan, blue radiance and as they moved further into the building their path sloped upward then curved left. From all of the broken rooms they passed, Miranda assumed this was once an office building. They continued to walk by security personnel who saluted the Lieutenant Commander, but scowled at the former Cerberus officer until finally they entered a large, unoccupied room. The centerpiece of the space was a holographic image of the city, which led Miranda to believe that they were standing in what currently passed for a war room. There were no windows, but the walls, floor and ceiling had all been reinforced with kinetic barriers.

Miranda walked over toward the table with the holographic display, taking note of troop layouts which were highlighted in blue, then turned toward Weiss. "Okay. I will ask you one more time. Why am I here?"

Just as the last words left her mouth, a tall figure stepped through the entrance of the room. "Because I asked."

As she turned her head toward the new arrival, Miranda frowned in disbelief. The participant was unexpected, shocking her momentarily, but she recovered her composure quickly. "Admiral Anderson." She recognized the man from her brief encounter almost three years ago when Shepard met him on the Citadel, soon after her resurrection. Of all the people she had thought to meet, she never suspected it would be with the leader of the Earth's ground resistance. The Alliance wasn't that trusting of those with ties to Cerberus, past or present.

"Ms. Lawson." The older man moved slowly and with a slight limp until he stood next to the table, directly across from her. "I'm sure this is a surprise."

Miranda looked the Anderson in the eyes and then answered, "To put it mildly."

He was outfitted in navy blue battle fatigues that looked out of place because they appeared brand new. She knew he had been with Shepard during the final assault, and when tied to the limping and fresh abrasions she noticed on his unprotected skin, she assumed he had seen battle and then for some reason changed clothes. Miranda remembered him as being robust and athletic with an imposing presence and while he still was able to command attention when he walked into the room, the exhaustion radiating from him was obvious. His facial features were drawn and haggard and fatigue plainly emanated from his dark brown eyes. Too many hours without sleep; too many questions running through the mind.

"I'll be honest," said Anderson, "I don't like your past involvement with Cerberus or your long history with the Illusive Man… but I know you've been helping the Alliance." The Admiral's scrutinizing gaze remained locked onto Miranda's, then his eyes narrowed. "And for some reason, Shepard trusts you."

"It was earned."

"That may be, but that's between you and Shepard."

"With all due respect, Sir, if you have concerns, then why did you ask for me?" Miranda had grown up around authoritarian figures, so giving respect to a man she knew earned it came without forethought.

"Because," said Anderson as he sighed heavily, "I need your help. We need to find Shepard."

"Sir," scoffed Miranda, "you need the Normandy for that, not me. They can track her down through her armor's biometric signature. Or homing beacon. Or any number of ways EDI can think up to track a unique signal pattern."

Anderson looked to his left and right, then frowned. "What about I'm about to tell you is classified and does not go beyond this room."

Miranda knew that was a statement, not a request. "Okay."

"We don't know what happened to the Normandy. We don't know a blasted thing about anything beyond our own system."

"What do you mean?"

"We've lost contact with everyone beyond the relay. Long range communications are down as well as the QEC. Initial reports suggest that the Sol Relay has… shutdown."

"Shutdown?" Miranda tilted her head thoughtfully. "That's… unsettling."

Anderson agreed. "Yes. It is. We need to know what happened before that red light stopped the Reapers, and to do that, we need to find Shepard."

That statement answered Miranda's unasked question- Shepard had been involved in the enemy's demise. "How can I help?"

Anderson tapped a few commands on the holographic control panel and a new map of London appeared. "I've got a wasteland to search through but not enough men or time to search it. You're her friend. You know her better than most. Hell, you put her back together piece by piece. If you don't know how to find her in that mess, no one will."

While analyzing the map, Miranda contemplated the various means she could employ to track down an individual and then she applied those methods to Shepard. "There may be a way. I'll need full access to your medical lab."

"Done. Whatever you need. Just find Shepard." Anderson's voice sounded tired, but relieved as well.

Miranda turned her gaze to the Admiral and asked a question that had plagued her mind since she saw the red hue span across the sky. "So… the Reapers have really been destroyed? The battle is over?"

Shrugging his shoulders noncommittally, Anderson replied, "We'll see."

"You don't sound convinced that they are gone."

"I was there when it happened. Saw them disintegrate before my eyes, but I have been in too many battles to be convinced the conflict is over after one victory. Miracle or not, we still have the aftermath to contend with. No one has been left untouched." The Admiral straightened his posture, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the holographic map. "The battle with the Reapers may be over, but now we have another battle to win. The battle for survival."

After nodding her head in silent agreement, Miranda asked, "Where can I being my work?"

Anderson continued to scrutinize the map, but raised his voice in order to address the woman who was still standing guard at the door. "Lieutenant Commander Weiss, take Ms. Lawson to the Delta med lab."

"Yes, Sir," said Weiss, the brisk tone of her voice sounding like a salute.

Turing his head toward the former Cerberus officer, Anderson said, "We're using it for medical storage rather than triage. You should find everything you need there. If there's something you don't have, you'll get it. Just let Weiss know."

"Thank you, Sir." Without further ado, Miranda headed toward the entrance in order to follow Weiss to the lab, but before passing through, she stopped and spun around to face the older man once again. "Sir, one more question. What makes you think Shepard survived?"

Anderson looked up from the map and met her probing gaze, as though measuring what to tell her. Finally, he said, "Because I did…"