A/N: Hello, and welcome to the long delayed third and final part of Misconduct. I apologise for the time it took me to finally get it edited. Thank you for your support and I hope you enjoy this last instalment. I'll definitely be writing more Mass Effect stories in the future. I'm glad I could give you a laugh or two and I hope to continue to do so! :D Enjoy, and thanks again for waiting so long for this, and for reading in the first place.
Remember, if you see any typos or other errors, please let me know!
Misconduct
Part Three
The instant she flowed through the entrance to the subway, she reduced her stance to a squat and shuffled along the floor with grasping hands desperate to find a decent grip. She hid behind a short barrier which, although unsure why it was there, she was glad for. Her heart thundered in her chest and her breath escaped her lungs faster than she could process what she should do next. From the short glimpse she had gotten while she had been standing, she knew that there were several vorcha grouped just behind the barrier, although thankfully they were unable to see her. The place was more lively than she predicted, although it was not uncommon to see many of them packed together. It made it more intimidating, especially if they were going to be alert to intruders.
The clapping of feet taunted her as her pursuers scattered through the entrance to the subway and hissed as they came down the slope, instantly prompting her to scuttle off to the left of the small barrier. She was flushed with nervousness as she considered the fact that she would likely be seen from any point in the subway, the only advantage being the dim light extending all the way through thanks to blinking globes. Sticking to the wall was a good plan as far as she could tell; the chunks of broken wall and concrete posts helped to mask her as she went.
She could see that there were far too many vorcha for what she imagined could realistically live in such a small space, posing the silent question of why there had to be so many now. There were dozens, possibly even a hundred, and all of them added an extra prickle to her stomach. Each carried at least one weapon, and amongst the dirty, grimy habitat they had made for themselves with a derelict train stopped halfway up the station, it seemed as if one in five had fired off a bullet somewhere. As well as that, she caught glimpses of fights breaking out of nowhere and clearing up as if nothing had happened, only for another to erupt ten seconds later.
While observing all that surrounded her, she snuck closer to a large and solid column which was one of the support structures holding up a small fortress in the corner of the floor. Walls were put up around it, which provided a perfect place for her to sneak behind. She was sure she would need a shower already, as grime, dirt, blood and what must have been faeces smothered the walls and the floors in an aimless mess. She cringed at the sight, but worse than that was the pungent stench.
Swallowing in disgust, she turned the corner so she was out of sight of the vorcha who could possibly have burst in and seen her, and resisted the urge to lean against the wall of the makeshift house behind her. She was disgusted at the thought of what it could be made from—packed varren excrement or the remnants of the vorcha's kills came to mind.
A sudden hiss alerted her to what lay behind her, causing her to jump before glancing over her shoulder and laying eyes on a vorcha staring directly her way. There was a moment of silent hesitation as they both stared at one another, in which time the vorcha extracted his weapon and aimed, but before he could fire a shot, Miranda's hands had instinctively reached for her pistol and fired immediately, implanting a single bullet into his chest. A gurgle escaped his mouth before another bullet punctured his skull, and he was soon to be nothing more than a corpse sprawled on the floor.
It had come to her attention after the wall her back was against had ended; in order to keep moving, she would be exposed to the rest of the subway, so even if she was able to feel shielded from the vorcha who had burst in through the entrance for a short time, it would not last. On top of that, she considered with a violent twinge of her stomach...she had just killed one of them.
Miranda waited in anticipation as she tried to spot her consequences catching up with her, but to her surprise, nothing came her way. The vorcha who had fallen simply lay there, and although he was probably noticed by those around him, he was not tended to. Vorcha were typically violent and uncaring creatures; the stranger's death had probably been classed as nothing more than the outcome of another in-house squabble. For the first time, she was thankful for their barbaric nature; she would be able to kill them in their own habitat without raising particular alarm.
"Human!" screeched a vorcha from near the entrance, which alerted Miranda to the presence of those who had been pursuing her. She felt a bite of panic grip her, finding it painfully inconvenient that she would be spotted just as she had lulled herself into a false sense of security.
One of the vorcha who had been near the entrance turned around to the appearance of the new-comers and sneered. "No humans," he affirmed determinedly. "Human would be dead!"
"Human come through here! Vorcha see," the pursing vorcha hissed, clearly referring to himself and the rest of the vorcha who had been tailing Miranda.
She quickly glanced behind her in case she had been spotted yet again, and then returned her gaze to the others when she saw nothing of interest.
"There!" shouted another, and instantly the Cerberus Officer straightened, a wave of shock running through her stomach. She was on high alert as she glanced about, sure that they could only have seen her from behind before realising with dread that above her, which she had foolishly not been paying heed to, the ceiling was broken in several places. She could see shadows moving above the thickly-weaved grating that covered the whole of the ceiling, made from solid metal which was clearly not going to collapse anytime soon.
She kept silent and held a breath in her throat, wondering what the vorcha could have been referring to as it became clear that she was not being targeted.
Another collection of harsh hisses and sounds were emitted from the vorcha group as they travelled through the middle of the subway, likely avoiding circles of sitting, watchful vorcha, crumbled pieces of rock, and barrels with chemicals, body waste and fires in them. Miranda watched carefully and saw one of them turn, making her realise that if one of them saw her there and approached, she would have nowhere to run—unless she could make it out the way she came in, but she was sure there would be a few vorcha on watch just out of view. She felt a twinge of nervousness hit her again and she dashed around the corner, hoping there was nobody at the entrance who could possibly look around and spot her, realising that the fallen vorcha had come to the attention of the creatures who had followed her inside. She resisted the urge to peek at what they were doing as they discussed him in a low manner.
After drawing the conclusion that one of their weapons had not fired the fatal shots, Miranda knew that she was in some sort of trouble. It was obvious that they suspected that she was there, especially after escaping into the subway and seemingly disappearing, and gritted her teeth after considering that there was little choice but to fight her way through everything. She could not do that by herself, however, and it would be suicide to try.
Glancing up at the break in the ceiling, she suddenly realised that it was her ticket out. She bit her lip and kept her eyes on it, understanding that to clamber up it, she would have to press herself against the wall behind her and walk up the post at the same time. She would then grab onto the thick metal grating and manoeuvre herself up. The torn, hanging edges of the metal were certainly sturdy enough to grab and hoist herself up with, but she knew that she had to be careful—in order to gain such height, she would have to rise above the small barriers she had crept behind, which would allow her to become exposed.
Deciding that it was her only choice, she placed her hands on the wall behind her and tried to hoist herself up by raising one leg at a time and pressing them into the post, nearly slipping on the grime and other ancient stains, having to reset her legs twice before she made it halfway up the wall. She knew grabbing the metal was going to be hard, as well as risky, but as it finally came within reach, she was more than keen to push herself to grab it. She glanced around as one final precaution before reaching up to grasp the torn metal, and felt her back slip.
She felt a spark of panic light in her stomach and she pressed her hands harder against the wall behind her, digging her shoulder blades in as well. Regrettably she felt her hair become tangled with some of the filth on the wall, causing her to cringe, but she attempted to force it from her mind. Now wasn't the time to be concerned about her hair.
She pressed against the ceramic tiles lining the post with her feet, hoisting herself higher and sliding her back up against the slimy concrete. She could see above the barriers as she rose closer to the ceiling, a terribly unsettling feeling coursing through her paired with the minor pain that was manifesting in the spots on her body where she had been struck by bullets.
She made another reach for the metal and managed to grasp it, growling silently to herself when she noted that it, too, was partly greasy. Thankfully it did not hinder her ability to gain any grip on it. Just as she touched it, she felt with apprehension that she was far too exposed, and it would only be a matter of time before she was spotted.
"Human!" hissed a vorcha suddenly, alerting Miranda to the presence of a vorcha past the corner she had been hiding behind, toward where the one she had killed lay. An immediate bolt of fear shot through her body as he called an ally over to investigate the matter, steadying his weapon.
Miranda's first reaction was to force a warp ball his way, which travelled as quick as she had hoped and knocked him back, causing him to topple into many other vorcha behind him. No commotion had been stirred until that moment, when the other vorcha in the subway grew aware of Miranda's presence.
"Human!" another growled with a gurgle in his throat, something the Cerberus officer knew she would likely never grow to like the sound of.
Immediately she pulled herself up, releasing a murmur of pain as the grating bit down on her, forcing her to with draw her hand as quickly as she could and clamber further up, where the metal curved upwards to be level with the upper floor. After a few shots from one of the creatures' guns had rocketed her way, narrowly missing one of her boots, she vanished into the opening.
The darkness consumed her instantly, introducing her to a world of murky blackness. Scattered light shot up in miniature shafts all over the floor as the ceiling above her hung down lowly, forcing her to bend over as she made her way through. However, she realised with dismay at that in the centre, a large opening in the floor she stood on looked down upon the middle of the subway station, and around which sat several vorcha. She froze before she came too close, suddenly thankful for her black outfit.
Immediately she was forced to sneak behind a crate and take cover, as there were all sorts of debris and other assorted objects lying around, and held her hair while poking her head out to the side to see the form of a vorcha swinging his assault rifle about the place, aimlessly trying to find the intruder. His accomplices were also alerted, and three of them got up to search for her, their over-pronounced, oddly bending legs awkwardly trying to keep them bent over as they moved. There was more scuffling from behind her, where the opening she had scrambled through was, which caused Miranda to clench her jaws tighter and make an effort to control her breathing.
She nearly jumped when a pair of hands scratched at the opening, and kept her pistol withdrawn as her back pressed against the crate. She remained silent as the vorcha down below obviously struggled to get through the opening; Miranda assumed that there was a common entrance elsewhere that was typically used, but from her position, she was unable to see it.
"Check crates!" one of the ones on her level instructed with an accompanying growl, which alerted the Cerberus officer to the fact that she would likely be seen if she remained where she was hiding. However, as she cast her frantic glance to the other crates nearby gathered in a cluster, she failed to imagine how she could use the crates as cover to slip by unnoticed.
As they neared her, she seized her chance and crept across a small space before coming to another solid crate, then made her way around a rather out-of-place piece of crumpled fencing. The vorcha approached from the other way, moving cautiously so that they did not miss anything which may have provided them with clues, while she snuck again around to the left, ducking behind an ejection pod from what was probably a small aircraft. After slipping behind it, two spindly legs appeared at her left, alarming her as the vorcha they belonged to spotted her instantly.
Thinking quickly, she shot up and drove a boot in between the creature's legs before slapping hands either side of his head and rapidly breaking his neck, hoping the sound would be drowned out in the commotion occurring on the level below. Her heart raced as the vorcha's weight fell into her hands and she lowered him into an awkward crouch, dropping his head to the floor with a dull thud.
She withdrew her hands and sneered after realising she had nowhere to wipe them, instead simply gripping her pistol again and holding her breath steady while she slipped away from the others, thankfully out of their sight as she dashed behind several more covers. It was then that, while surveying the room for the third time, she came into visual contact with a vent shaft that led from the level she was on to somewhere unknown. She was unsure quite where, but surely, she thought, it would lead away from the perilous dump she had found herself in.
Swallowing again, she made her way in a crouch along the wall to the ventilation shaft, constantly glancing behind her to ensure there were no vorcha following her. On the opposite side, amongst some blocky rubbish, lay an entrance to the upper storey through what looked to be something similar to a drop-down staircase mechanism. However, the only reason she had noticed it was because it had suddenly fallen away from the floor after someone down below had obviously pulled it open in preparation for its use.
"No," she grunted to herself in a whisper, and as she began to hear the vermin scurry up the steps, she knew that if she did not reach the ventilation shaft soon, she would have no hope of escaping at all. Keeping this in mind, she hammered against the grate flooring, her boots scuffling too loud for comfort, before she squashed herself against the surface and began to creep into the shaft. She heard shouting behind her, which made her more intent on crawling faster. She was unsure whether or not the vorcha could actually follow her through the shaft, but if they could, she knew it would not be long before they caught up to her.
She felt her mind turn with forced determination and her stomach boil with nervousness as she pressed on, weaving through the shaft until she came to a drop. The extremely dim light made it hard to make out where it led; instead she was looking down into an unknown abyss. She did not have time to contemplate it as a shot was suddenly fired behind her, shocking her and forcing her to make the decision to drop down. Panic flowed through her as she dropped, her arms forced up as she fell, and clopped sooner than she expected onto the floor. However, the moment her shoes hit the metal flooring of the shaft, confusion rattled her mind when she continued to fall, although the force of landing still rang in her legs. It was then that she realised: the shaft had just broken.
With a call of fright, she was sent tumbling down below and into the roof of a structure built in another room of the underground subway, aggravating the mild wounds she had acquired from vorcha bullets. A series of involuntary grunts passed through her lips as she landed, clattering against several materials making up the structure. For a moment she thought she had dropped down on a vorcha's poker table, for the roof collapsed and she landed on a surface below it surrounded by a few vorcha. She had no time to assess the situation as some were knocked back, but some recovered quickly and were on their feet in the next instant, which instantly persuaded her to get to hers. One of the vorcha was carrying a weapon and he hissed in a collection of odd growls, sounding as if phlegm was bouncing between his vibrating vocal chords.
The Cerberus officer threw her arm to her gun and fired, alerting the vorcha to the bullet she implanted into his chest before a few more of the creatures got up, and she made a run for it. Just as she poured around a corner, another few shots were fired at her from behind, grazing the wall she had rounded. Thoughts of varied strengths and topics whizzed through her mind, and although she could not pay attention to them all, one in particular stuck out: she had to escape.
Quickly certifying that there would be no trains actually running, she dashed along the railway between two walls presumably behind the big room she had previously been in, feeling a small wave of relief flow through her as she angled up a ramp.
From a corridor to her left spurted a trio of vorcha, each with, to her dismay, flamethrowers similar to the M-451 Firestorm that Shepard sometimes brought with her on missions strapped to their backs. With wide eyes, the Cerberus officer came to a screeching halt, shocked at the sight before her as alarm bells rang throughout her head. They were virtually at point-black range, also surprised by the sudden encounter.
"Damn it," she whispered to herself in the moment she realised she was too close to issue her overload ability, for she would be charred as much as they would. Immediately the vorcha assumed position aimed their weapons directly at her, moments away from pulling their triggers.
Miranda was quick to respond to her instinct to flee and rebounded off the spot she had been standing, leaping back toward the subway tracks. As she went, she nearly stumbled on the slope and cursed her shoe choice, all the while knowing she wouldn't be persuaded to change them.
She was fully aware that she was going in the opposite direction to the exit, which ate at her mind just as she dropped down onto the tracks. She ran for a short time longer before the thought began to eat at her. She could not bear to remind herself that she was eliminating her progress through this deadly place and thwarting her only chance of escape. Knowing she would only encounter the others pursing her if she continued to backtrack anyway, her best judgement turned her on her heels to face her fire-wielding foes as she aimed her pistol at a tank on one's back. As soon as the first burst of fire was released from the barrel, the bullet tore through the flames and struck the tank, immediately causing a scorching explosion which knocked even her back.
While trying to shield herself from the flames, her sharp crash into the tracks forced a cry out of her mouth and continued to send her back. She thought for a moment that she might not be able to come to a halt, grasping at the floor in a frantic attempt to ground herself. She stopped almost immediately after, more moans seeping from her lips as pain flared up in a number of indistinguishable places, which quickly identified themselves.
She tossed her head up, feeling a burning pain in the side of her ribcage, below her left breast. The pain made her grunt with discomfort, one of her hands magnetising itself to the wound as if to shield it. She used the other to get herself up and clumsily stood, at first ensuring that the vorcha were down for the count, which she hoped she could say for not just the one whose tank she had blown up.
Also knowing that vorcha's skin had the ability to heal over a short duration of time, she readjusted her grip on her pistol and aimed it at them while nearing them, firing a shot at both, who were slightly mangled bodies on the railroad as she passed. She did not monitor whether or not they were actually killed by the shots and continued, electing not to turn down the left path the three had emerged from once she was back where she was before. By her calculations, that would likely lead her back to the main room.
Hoping it would be clear for now, she took a breath and glanced down the corridor she had aimed to stalk down before, prying her hand from her side to view the wound. The bullet had not broken her strongly weaved armour-like attire, which was a relief, although she wondered what had happened to the skin underneath. Unless she was interested in stripping halfway down simply to check – which she clarified with herself that she was not – there was no way to assess it until she was back on the Normandy. She took the time to examine her other wounds, one on her upper arm, the second on the same side's thigh and the last one on her opposite shin, and determined a similar scenario for them. Figuring none of her wounds – although still painful – were not quite bad enough to dwell on, she simply pressed on.
Miranda soon came to be what appeared to be some sort of cargo storage room open to the subway line. She frowned in wonder. "What...is all this?" she wondered to herself in a murmur, glancing around to double-check that no guards were protecting their salvage. "Weapons..." she guessed, standing warily up to push aside a large box's heavy lid. It was as hard to push as she had expected, and as it revealed what lay inside, the woman suddenly likened it with removing the lid of a coffin. It held just what she had anticipated: firearms.
Arguing made a spike of worry graze her mind as she ducked behind the large box, inches from the wall opposite the train line. Her back pressed against the box as her legs drew up by her side, and her eyes fell to her heels, which she scowled at. Her choice of shoes had caused her to stumble a number of times during her career, namely when had landed awkwardly from a jump, although they were a fantastic asset in close combat.
"Get in there, now!" a vorcha shouted presumably from the next room over, and an agitated response was followed by the appearance of two vorcha who, Miranda realised, had climbed up from the train tracks, meaning she had been followed. One of them stopped.
"...Smell...the human," he grunted, and the other stayed silent for a moment as they both looked about. Miranda swallowed and breathed as quietly as she could; she had no idea what sort of heightened senses vorcha had. She cursed herself for not cleverly rolling in filth before entering the subway. Perhaps that would have integrated her smell with the rest of the scum living there.
Footsteps grew louder until she was sure they were directly in front the box she was sheltering behind, and held a breath in her throat. As she drew her pistol up and held it closer, she realised with some degree of shock that it had a single bullet left. At first she denied the possibility, insisting that the dim light inhibited her ability to make out how many rounds remained. She could not fool herself, though; there was no doubt. She was one bullet away from being out of ammo.
Just as she was sure the vorcha would appear to her immediate right and fire before she had a chance to activate her pistol, something small caught her eye behind another crate near where she entered the room. Without a second's analysis, she could see that it was a varren. The alarm in her told her that it was one of the vorcha's, as she had seen a few in the main room before, but it was much smaller than the others. It was in a snap that she realised with large portions of shock that it was the varren she had been delivering—the one that Shepard illegally brought aboard the Normandy.
'What the bloody hell was she thinking?' she demanded to herself, as if she held the missing pieces to the puzzle that was the commander's mind. The more she thought about it, the less she understood.
The varren was eying her curiously, and she secretly hoped the beast would emerge from behind cover and distract the vorcha behind the box so she had a chance at escape, but the creature, much to her surprise, seemed to be hiding just as undetectably as she was. Its body was crouched and its mind was clearly alert, watching and waiting for the right time. She frowned at it, but it simply kept staring at her.
Suddenly the vorcha appeared between Miranda and the varren, but the instant that happened, the creature leapt forward and dug its fangs into the vorcha's neck, causing a spray of aimless fire and earning a scream from his throat before he was silenced. Miranda ducked as some of the bullets ricocheted off the ceiling, the others puncturing it and shooting straight through, which distracted the second vorcha as he too tried to avoid them. Next, the varren bounded off the bleeding body and skidded around Miranda's cover as a few shots were fired, but the second vorcha, too taken by surprise to act accordingly, collapsed in a heap of squirming limbs and screams.
For a moment, Miranda was stunned. She could not figure out how or why the varren had taken down these vorcha so seamlessly; she had almost expected it to turn on her and join their side for the sole reason that they were typically associated with one another. She knew that was silly, though; this varren had somehow grown to like the commander in a remarkably short time and now, as it seemed, Miranda as well. She poked her head around the edge of the box, leaping in surprise as the face of the small varren was situated right before her. She continued to hold her limbs tense as the creature, bloodied mouth open and dripping tongue lolling out between its jaws, sat down and cocked its head.
Miranda only narrowed her eyes, glancing over it to ensure there was nobody loading themselves onto the platform from the subway tracks. It continued off in both directions after the walls of the platform blocked it from her view; it looked like the subway train would have been able to run along its tracks and still leave room for a person to fit between it and the wall, which she found a little peculiar. Even if the trains were still running, the vorcha could have squeezed between the train and the wall to fit past and make their way to other parts of the underground subway with ease. Though she highly doubted they would make an effort to mend it.
She emerged from behind the box and moved toward the exit, glancing back the way she came to check there was nobody entering. Her eyes shifted to the varren following her and noticed that it was limping, and only then did she remember the bullet that was so recklessly delivered to its hind leg. It was in the right thigh near its rump, clearly hindering its ability to effectively move.
After a conflicting moment of consideration, Miranda turned around and scooped the creature in her arms, muttering to herself that she would likely regret this later. Nevertheless, it was what she had to do now, and if that varren could still help her even while injured, she was willing to accept its assistance. If it became too weak, it could serve as bait while she made her escape. Either way, she had a use for it.
Quietly slipping into the next walkway, which was quite an enclosed corridor leading in a straight line, a vorcha appeared up ahead where black gates leading out of the subway were. She was sure she could get past reasonably easy, for all it would take would be a simple biotic warp or a good slam.
However, he noticed her immediately and was quick to force the bullets from his assault rifle's barrel and, in a shock, she dropped the varren. The shots were so sudden that she was forced to drop to the ground in some vain effort to take cover, her shield taking hits from every bullet. In a fury, Miranda immediately returned the favour with a biotic slam, hardly paying attention as the vorcha was knocked out by the force. Her attention had been stolen by the sight of more vorcha were coming up behind her; by the looks of things, it was as many as five.
"Get her!" screeched one of the five, and without hesitation, they unloaded their clips in an instant, which was stopped only by a part of fallen gating being lifted into the air as per her request and spinning wildly, all of which she organised upon spotting the uninvited band.
Adrenaline pumped through the woman's veins as some of the bullets simply soared through an opening in the gate when they happened to find one, while the rest of them ricocheted off the parts of the metal they struck. Only two bullets managed to bounce back at the varren who launched them, others losing their velocity before they could hit anything but walls. The ones that bypassed the gate missed anything that would damage her, except one that struck her boot. Another few had whizzed past her head, but she allowed none of the distractions to draw her attention away from the force she applied to the gate as it came closer to the vorcha, controlling it to slam into the ground. With a curse she realised that it missed, only to land on the foremost vorcha's toes, the only real damage being the fists he swung back into his comrades as a hasty reaction to the pain.
Wasting no time, she launched a ball of warp energy at them, which was quick to hit and caused an explosion at the first vorcha, the mass effect field stretching back to the others and hopefully preventing health regeneration. Personally she found it frustrating that such vermin had the ability to heal their wounds within as little time as an hour – unless the injury was severe – as they could come back virtually unscathed in that time, although the rapid healing did tend to leave more extreme scars.
Leaping to her feet and bolting past the black fence that split the walkway into two halves, Miranda tried to keep her eyes on the varren, the vorcha in front of her and the pack behind her all at once. She cringed and instinctively ducked when another bullet zipped past her, and in that moment, she wondered how she could still be breathing after the many bullets fired her way. She figured the vorcha were simply bad shots.
She raced toward the vorcha, having to throw herself against the wall as he aimed a knife – something she had not seen vorcha carry often – her way, but was quickly taken down by the varren. While its fangs tore at the fallen vorcha, however, a shot from one of the group hammered past the fencing and struck the small creature in the side, bowling it over in a whimpering shriek. Not realising she would care so much, Miranda gritted her teeth while whirling around and, in her exhaustion, took a moment to aim properly. She made her target a tank on one of the creatures' backs and fired, the instant force blowing them in different directions and slamming them against the strict confines of the walkway. Miranda shielded her eyes as debris flew her way, and one of the vorcha's bodies slid out of the mass of smoke and brief flame, still emitting screams as the life slowly bled from his body.
Hardly taking notice, the Cerberus Operative scrambled away, finding her way to the wounded varren. "Don't fret," she hurriedly instructed, collecting the bundle of vermin in her arms before racing off in the direction the exit was, the flashing red and blue lights of the world outside leaking into the passage she ran down. It was still hard for her to accept that she was trying to rescue a varren – the same one she had not long ago tried to relocate – but knew that she owed it her favour. It had potentially saved her life twice now, and it was because of her that the two had ended up in their situation. She would have liked to blame the varren, but the real reason was Shepard's selfishness. She briefly reminded herself that she would speak to her about this later. Firmly.
Emerging from the entrance was like finally coming up out of thickened murky water to breathe again. Miranda was entirely relieved, and felt shivers scale her body as she considered staying down there longer, only to likely prolong what was inevitable. She was not so quick to let her guard down, however, and whirled around to check in multiple directions for threats that might be apparent. Despite the absence of ammo, she directed her firearm around her in a circle to ensure there was nobody watching, although knowing that it was likely that the vorcha who were undoubtedly after her had not reached the surface yet.
Once verifying that there were no imminent threats, she surveyed the area in search of a means to escape from the platform, wishing to return to the docking bay so she could board the Normandy. This had been an ordeal she had not anticipated, and neither did she want to repeat it. The sooner she could escape, the better.
Suddenly a thought materialised in her mind and she wondered briefly if she could call for the Normandy to pick her up directly from where she was, but was quick to reconsider it. As much as she wanted to, it would be irresponsible of her, as well as the fact that she was unsure where it would land. It would likely have to hover near the platform and allow her to climb on, which she realised she was not willing to have Joker do. Besides, she had wanted her operation to be covert, and if reaching the Normandy undetected was still possible, she was willing to risk it...provided she could single out a way off the vorcha territory.
"Find her!" screeched one of the vorcha from behind, and Miranda's skin erupted with goose bumps. She dashed toward one of the nearby building structures in order to hide between it and the one beside it, and as she did so, she acknowledged the sound of engines approaching. To begin with, she thought there might have been backup for the vorcha, but after a moment of consideration, she realised that that assumption was pretty unlikely. They had plenty of troops groundside, and she had never known a vorcha to operate something that could take flight. That was not to say that it did not happen, but the possibility seemed unlikely anyway given their numbers on the island anyway.
A moan escaped the varren's jaws as it readjusted its position on the ground beside Miranda, who had placed it down. She glanced to it, hoping it wouldn't give away her position as she hid. If it did, her idea of the alternate use for the varren might have to come into play.
The engines grew louder and despite the possibility of vorcha noticing her, Miranda stood up and edged closer to the wide and open street-like part of the platform. She stuck her head around the corner, only to spot a cab drawing closer. She frowned a little, wondering why it was landing in the middle of the open space, when more vorcha poured out of the subway.
She attempted to conceal herself before she was spotted, but her attempts failed her, and several forms appeared on the platform. She hissed and immediately tried to gather her energy, focusing on the first one and lifting him into the air with her biotics. As she did so, however, one of the vorcha behind him let loose a stream of bullets, all of which hammered the building beside Miranda. The woman sneered and forced the floating vorcha into his followers, knocking them back down through the entrance to the subway. Using their distraction to her advantage, she peered around again at the cab shuttle, waiting for the door to hiss open. When it did, she was surprised to see the armour-clad form of Commander Shepard, followed by Jacob and Grunt.
Miranda stared for a moment before they spotted her, and the commander signalled for the two to follow her. Halfway over, the group of vorcha had evidently locked them in their sights and yelped to one another in their husky, screeching voices before open-firing. While Jacob and Grunt used a collection of biotic power and shotguns to fend them off, the commander raced up to Miranda while swinging her assault rifle in both hands, slowing to a stop when she dropped into a crouch. Her eyes were lit with concern and perplexity. Miranda was relieved, but partly regretted allowing the crew to see her in such an unfavourable situation.
The commander scanned the woman before her and then the varren, the sight of which she widened her eyes at in minor horror. It was clear that Shepard expected her to say something, but when she didn't, she stared the Cerberus Operative in the eye and frowned. "What the hell were you thinking?"
She glanced upon the minor injuries Miranda had received and sighed, pulling out a small tube of medi-gel cream that was able to fit in one of the pouches at her belt. Miranda was aware the commander carried it around for every time there was a malfunction in the CPU that deployed the medi-gel to the armour's wearer, and needed to heal specific wounds. Miranda cringed as the cream began to take effect once Shepard applied it to a few places, by which time the Cerberus Officer claimed that she would deal with the rest of the injuries herself.
Commander Shepard pulled away with little hesitation, directing her rifle to the stream of vorcha pouring out of the subway. Her squad mates had rushed for cover away from the shuttle so as not to draw fire upon their escape vehicle before it lifted off at Shepard's command and flew out of sight. The commander loosed a bolt of streaming, smooth flame from her omni-tool that arched around and collided with her target with a burst of a small explosion, knocking him back as the splash-damage sprayed onto those around him.
However, the short assault invited other vorcha to turn their attention toward her, and consequently, toward Miranda as well. The Cerberus Operative was able to get to her feet and, cursing at the fact that she remembered she had no ammo left in the only weapon she brought along, she threw her head toward her superior officer. "Shepard, I need a firearm."
Without hesitation, Shepard unlatched the sub-machine gun clinging to the back of her armour and passed it to Miranda, who was quick to spin around and target a vorcha who appeared at the other end of the alleyway. As Jacob shot from a similar alleyway from somewhere up ahead, closer to where the shuttle had landed, Shepard pressed herself against the wall of the building. She was still in perfect range of a number of enemies and instructed Miranda to aim at them before they could move up.
When a few more were knocked down and bullets from their guns had simply rebounded off the walls of the buildings surrounding them or bypassed Shepard's shield, only to leave a small graze on her armour, Shepard relieved her gun, floating it down by her side. She whipped her head around to Miranda, eyes alert. "Down the alleyway. Now," she instructed, and, dashing past both her and the varren, she made sure to add, "And don't forget Josie."
Miranda paused in her tracks, and the most confused, disgusted and utterly bewildered face smeared itself all over her face. Her mouth hung open in incredulity, causing the commander to pause herself.
"Something wrong, Miranda?" she demanded sternly, watching as Miranda reacted to her defence with a disbelieving chuckle.
She let another moment pass before she emphasised, "Josie?"
Silence pierced the air as Shepard swallowed and stood straighter, trying to maintain dignity. "Yes. Problem?"
Miranda didn't even want to dignify that with an answer. When another reminder of the vorcha's guns sounded nearby, both women dropped the conversation and Miranda sighed. She retrieved the varren, all the while understanding that she was totally responsible for anything that happened to her—even though the commander most certainly shouldn't care.
The varren whimpered upon contact with Miranda's hands and the Cerberus Operative frowned a little as she noted the severity of the few injuries the poor beast had sustained. With reluctance, she requested, "Shepard, hand over the medi-gel cream."
They both hurried down the alley, only to meet a narrow path between the buildings that ran left and right, with alleys like the one they had emerged from along its length. Wanting to get a few more words in, Shepard whirled around. "For her?" she questioned angrily, pointing to the varren. "Was it really worth all this, Miranda?" She allowed the question to hang in the air as she watched whatever guilt Miranda's face held compose itself with salvaged dignity tainted by the fact that she had clearly let the commander down. "You storm in here with one weapon, carrying around my varren, and try to sell it to the same vermin whose sorry asses you've helped me wipe from existence time and again? From this space station?"
"I didn't try to sell it to the vorcha," she assured, although she was aware that the information did not excuse her. She gave a sigh, unsure how to explain herself. "I thought I was doing you a favour. You didn't seem to be able to do it yourself, and by giving this thing your attention, you were distracting yourself from the task at hand."
Shepard's eyebrows disappeared behind her visor in surprise that bordered on insulted before she hardened her face into a frown and stuck a finger forward. "This varren has nothing to do with our mission. Don't you dare question my ability to remain focused on our real objective. Do you really think I've forgotten that the Collectors are abducting thousands of our people?" She shook her head in disgust. "In spite of what you might think, Miranda, I'm more capable than you know. The fact that we haven't seen eye to eye recently is obviously interfering with your professional judgement." Despite being focused on the conversation, she extracted the cream from her belt.
Miranda's pride clearly obstructed any apology she could have chosen to make, but she did back down. "Look, Commander..." She silenced herself for a bit, attempting to remain somewhat in her place. Shepard interlaced her arms. "I know you're capable. That isn't what this is about. But I am obliged to follow a strict protocol and it's not in my nature to ignore violations of policy. Despite your position." Realising she wasn't winning herself any support, she added, "I don't expect you to understand."
"No, I don't," Shepard grunted as she unscrewed the cap and handed the tube to her XO. "We'll talk about this on the Normandy."
Miranda accepted it awkwardly while still cradling the varren in her arms, having to still it when it squirmed a few times. She would have protested and asked Shepard to apply the cream while she held her still, but she was aware that the commander would only shoot back with some remark about how Miranda was the one responsible for the welfare of the varren she abducted, and as well as that, Shepard had returned to be their look-out. The last thing they wanted to do was remain on such a dump-site for any longer.
Without warning, Shepard stumbled forward and Miranda recoiled shortly after a loud bang sounded, and the commander whirled around, eying a duo of vorcha further down the pathway. "Oh, shut up," she grunted, firing a round of bullets into the first one's head and incinerating the other. The vorcha screeched and began to cook, then collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
Although Miranda was loath to admit it, she was always impressed with the skill her commander possessed, even in short sequences such as what she had just displayed. Shepard prompted her team mate to follow and apply the rest of the cream later, as now was clearly a bad time. Miranda agreed and they ran up the lane, weaving down the alleyway Jacob happened to be in.
They all quickly spoke to one another as Shepard used a remote device to summon the shuttle that they had taken to the island, which was quick to abide by her pleas and land where it had been previously. Despite being under fire the entire way to it, they made their way from their cover to the shuttle, sustaining only minor damage to their shields, and were able to load themselves on without much of a hassle. Once they took off, the shuttle enduring a continuous spray of bullets, Miranda made an effort to launch a warp ball at a vorcha after Jacob caused him to levitate in preparation for being thrown.
When they were out of range, Miranda sighed and leaned against her seat. She watched as Shepard removed her helmet but looked away before she could make eye contact with her, instead focusing on applying the medicinal cream to the varren in her lap. She would listen to the commander's rants later.
ooo
It was an hour after they had arrived back aboard the Normandy from the shuttle cab – which Miranda found out from Jacob that the commander had stolen from the bay after being hassled for a cab fare but had no time to deal in credits or become a victim to the cab driver's slow piloting – and Miranda was sitting at her desk once more, wondering how Shepard had piloted it remotely to pick them up. She assumed that she had taken a remote from the cab driver before she stole his shuttle, as most pilots carried them on their person in case of an emergency. Although distracted by recent events, she was typing away at the screen she so commonly sat before. The transparent keyboard she was so used to was doing its job adequately, and she felt a sense of calmness after the events that had nearly gotten her killed.
'Most of those sorts of reckless, unpredictable missions are under Shepard's lead,' she considered to herself. This one, however, she had brought solely upon herself. It was, of course, born of the commander's actions, but she had admitted to herself that she was to blame. If she had gone about it in another way, or even been more prepared, the disaster that played out would have weaved its way through time differently. She had been so focused on disposing of the varren and had such a desire to get it done quickly that she had not considered the consequences of her actions. Was she that keen to prove herself to the Illusive Man? Shepard deserved her support, and occasionally she questioned whether she would grow more loyal to her than she would the Illusive Man during or after their mission to stop the Collectors.
Thinking about protocol got her wondering to herself why exactly she would need to prohibit the varren from remaining aboard the vessel. It had shown courage and faith, not to mention a decent battling ability, even while knowing that Miranda had intended to palm it off. She thought about the fact that it already appeared loyal to the commander and all who served with her; that made sense to a degree considering the commander saved her life, although nothing could be certain. She was not at all educated on how varren normally behaved, and assumed Shepard wasn't either. Maybe she got a thing or two out of that research on varren Garrus had gathered and Miranda had passed on.
No sooner did the commander herself appear at the door to Miranda's private quarters. She let herself in and Miranda cleared her voice, relocating her gaze and resting it upon her superior officer. Since their discussion back on Omega, the two had not had words. "Commander."
The commander presented herself to her XO before her desk, standing resolute and brimming with authority. She inhaled while Miranda prepared, masking her face with stillness. "How are your wounds?"
Although Miranda was not expecting that question to fall from the commander's lips, she gave a short nod. "They were only minor. It'll bruise, but that's the extent of it."
"Did you see Doctor Chakwas like I instructed?"
Miranda's frown flickered for a moment. "Commander, with all due respect, those bullets barely grazed me."
"Miranda, I asked you a question. Did you see the doctor or not?"
Miranda exhaled and refrained from rolling her eyes. "Shepard, there was hardly a need for an exa—"
"And there it is!" Shepard growled, her words punching the air with impatience and disapproval. The woman opposite her seemed unsure what she was referring to. The commander pressed both hands on the desk and leant over, eyes clouded with subdued anger. "It doesn't matter how small the order. You have a habit of questioning authority. My authority."
The Cerberus Operative scowled, clearly objecting to the statement. "I rarely question you."
"Rarely is enough to make me sceptical. If you're going to operate under my command, I need to know that you won't blow me off because you assume your judgement trumps mine. I need to know that you can trust me."
Miranda sighed, wetting her lips before pursing them as her superior talked. "Commander, I have no trouble—"
"No trouble what, Miranda?" she questioned, raising a hand and facing her palm to the ceiling. "No trouble operating of your own accord? Following some ridiculous protocol that holds no merit for me? I'm not Cerberus. I don't play by your rules."
"No, that's not—"
"And conducting a stupid operation on your own?" Shepard questioned in bewilderment, her voice probably loud enough for those in the mess to hear. "Not just that, but with the intent of interfering with my personal business? I could have told you that the varren would make a valuable asset to our ground teams, but you didn't consider that, did you? I know you don't appreciate me, and that's fine. You don't have to. But you have to trust my commands." She shook her head, withdrawing from the desk and raising a hand in the direction of the med bay. Looking slightly hurt – most of which was covered by anger – she sighed, "You have problems following basic—"
"I saw Doctor Chakwas!" Miranda blurted, maintaining her frown. Suddenly Shepard stopped and stared at her for a second, confusion holding her features as she processed the information. Miranda, impatient herself, added, "Now you're the one making assumptions." The commander eyed her for a second longer. "I do trust you. It's just that the Illusive Man—"
"I just need to know..." Shepard began firmly, stopping Miranda mid-sentence. Both looked at one another before Shepard finished, "...that if it came to the Illusive Man or me...you'd choose me."
The words became suspended as Miranda thought for a moment, unsure if she should respond immediately with what thoughts sprang to mind, or give it a moment to bubble. By not giving an immediate answer, it was clear that she was not going to name the commander.
Shepard, noting this, took a breath. She couldn't blame Miranda for choosing the Illusive Man, as much as it pained her to consider. He took her in when nobody else would, and she could appreciate the feeling of gratitude and eternal loyalty. If only the situation was different.
Shepard's attention was drawn to Miranda as she watched her stand, her gaze firm. It seemed as if she was reluctant to speak, but felt she had to anyway. A slight dab of colour returned to her face as she met with the commander's eyes and tried to avoid beating around the non-verbal bush. "...For this mission, you're my commander." She bit her tongue on that, thinking for a mere moment before continuing. By the look on the commander's face, she had a shot at regaining her respect. "I respect your decisions, commander... I learned from a young age to question everything. While working for Cerberus, that need to question only grew. I know Cerberus deals in a lot of...questionable experiments. They have never been clear about their intentions."
Shepard seemed to see this as fair, even if she did not like it. She bounced the consideration around her mind and bobbed her head a few times in understanding. "Yeah, well, you don't need to do that with me."
"I know," Miranda admitted, acknowledging that she had been wrong. She wouldn't speak the exact words, but she could mull them in the confines of her own mind and that was enough for her.
Another moment of silence wavered about and the commander managed a smile. "Glad to hear it."
ooo
Shepard had given Miranda a few hours before she returned to her quarters. In that time she had gotten Josie assessed by Dr. Chakwas, who was interested in studying the creature and grew a fast fondness for her, and it was confirmed that she would make a full recovery in a few days. Their advanced medi-gel worked well enough to heal the small bullet wounds, as well as varren immune systems being remarkably capable.
As she made her way to Miranda's office, she made an effort to intend to be diplomatic. She did not imagine the woman had changed her mind about Josie, and neither did she want to forgive her for her foolish actions. However, she agreed with herself that she would be easier on her than before. After all, she did give her own version of an apology. Humiliation was a good way to win Shepard back. It seemed to make things more even.
"Miranda, have you come to a decision about the varren?" Shepard asked directly as she entered, showing a casual, dulled smile.
"I would appreciate it if you knocked—" Miranda began, taken by surprise.
Shepard shrugged. "I'd appreciate it if you answered me."
The Cerberus Officer ignored her comment and interlaced her fingers, placing her arms out in front of her. "I was about to relay my decision to you before you came in."
"Well?" the commander asked. "What's your decision?"
The Cerberus Operative removed her hands from her desk and rested them in her lap, one hand loosely cupping the other. "The varren showed me loyalty even while it probably had no idea who I was—only that I was an ally of yours. I believe this displays its initiative and sets it apart from most other varren, who would take longer than a day to warm up to their masters."
'Is this a fact or mere Miranda speculation?' wondered the commander, unsure if she had read the varren report yet.She kept quiet as she took a seat on the chair before the desk.
"But...it doesn't change the fact that pets larger than a space hamster are contraband." She kept her eyes on the commander, and from what Shepard could tell, her second in command seemed to think her analysis was fair. Her eyes were soft and her smile was faint, as always, but somewhat confident. "So," she began, breaking her demeanour and typing a few keys into the keyboard, "the varren can be relocated to another force in the Cerberus ranks. Varren can be common on the front lines. I believe this varren will put up a good fight." She did not mention the fact that she also expected it to perish within two shakes of a leg.
The commander leaned back, her spine thudding against the back of the chair as she eyed her XO. Miranda leaned forward on the desk, her elbows on the table and her chin resting on interlaced fingers. "So she can't stay on the Normandy," Shepard clarified.
Miranda lifted her head and answered, "Because it is against protocol...as you are aware, and as you were aware before you brought it here." She hardened her gaze, angling her head down a little in a notion nearly to challenge the commander. "And as I am sure you are now more aware of." When Shepard remained silent but her expression did not change, which was a little unsettling, she took another steady breath. "I will forward a report to the Illusive Man on the varren's worth, Commander. It will be treated fairly."
"She," Shepard corrected in a low tone, still unmoving.
Miranda's eyes halted upon the other woman's as if in an unconscious effort to transfer her disapproval through a simple glare. "She," she stated with a solid tone, beginning to feel inches of apprehension creep into her system. She knew Shepard wasn't going to let this go. And after the talk earlier, she was not particularly interested in stirring any bad blood.
"So if Cerberus is willing to bring aliens aboard the Normandy to contribute to the mission, why can't they accept an alien animal?" Miranda heaved a sigh, closing her eyes. The commander only grew more defensive. "That varren has served me well. Hell, I earned its loyalty faster than the rest of the crew. You experienced that yourself." Shepard stopped there, narrowing her eyes at Miranda. The woman looked up in that moment after hearing the commander's words slow to a stop.
She gave a frown. 'Don't go there—'
"I earned its loyalty quicker than I earned yours!" she declared, sitting forward in her chair and directing a finger at the Cerberus Operative. She shook her head slowly while eying the woman, but Miranda only straightened her back and coated her face with a look of annoyance but maintained composure. "And, you know, loyal troops make for better soldiers than the disloyal ones."
"Shepard—"
"Remind me again why I'm letting you make the final decision?" She came to a stand, pressing her hands on her thighs as she stood up. "Last I recall, I was your commanding officer. I have the final say." One of her eyebrows rose.
"I know what I said before, but in this instance, I must follow the Illusive Man's direction," she informed in response, also finding herself on her feet. She lay her hands on the desk and her fingers spread across its surface. This time she was not going to back down. "It's my job, Shepard."
The commander awaited a comment before creeping closer, stopping when she came to the side of the desk. "Maybe you should adjust the terms and conditions of your job," she suggested, a small smile increasing between her cheeks. This immediately shocked Miranda – possibly even disturbed her – for the random act was out of place. However, she suddenly realised what was happening. Her thoughts were drawn to the incident that occurred that same day, and she felt a very slight nervousness spike her stomach. At the same time, she knew it was the key to a different approach.
"You mean...make my own decisions?" Miranda began knowingly, her voice lowered to something smoother and monitored. Shepard raised her eyebrows in interest. "Overrule the Illusive Man's control with...control of my own?" She let her eyelids fall partway over her pupils, adorning her with a relaxed appearance. She tilted her head to the side and her eyes strolled around the commander's face. The last place they rested before her eyes were her lips, which Shepard was surely aware of. Miranda smirked inwardly.
Shepard's small smile indicated mild surprise at Miranda's rapid change in pace. "Yeah...something like that," she answered curiously, locking eyes with her second in command.
There was a moment of silence and hesitation before Miranda stepped around her desk and closed in on the commander, the large gap between them becoming a small one. Shepard blinked a few times in surprise, taking a moment to assess how close Miranda had placed herself. She found herself analysing the XO's face as the action was reciprocated, and could almost swear she could feel the body heat pulsating from only inches away. Immediately she felt an incredible allure to the woman before her and was finding it difficult to make a next decision.
Miranda, fully aware of her effect, reached up and brushed a rogue hair behind Shepard's ear. Finding amusement in its misplacement, she murmured, "Some part of you is always showing you for what you really are...wild...unchained." Each word was reduced to a whisper.
Shepard merely breathed and watched as a grin spread across Miranda's face, as if inviting her closer. The commander gave a smile of her own. "You know, Miranda..." she began, her head making the slightest tilt, as if leading with her lips.
"Yes...?" She slipped her hands around the commander's waist and drew her closer.
The commander waited a moment to drink in the moment, her eyes holding implications of entertainment and her lips curling into a wider smile. "You're a bit like that hair yourself."
"Wild?" Miranda squinted her eyes a little for but a moment before they returned again, her smile reaching cheek to cheek. Shepard nearly believed she was enjoying herself.
"No," Shepard breathed curiously, centimetres from Miranda's face. At this response, a flash of doubt entered the Cerberus Operative's eyes. The words hung for but a moment. The commander leaned in, eying the woman's lips with her own mouth parted for seconds on end before flicking to her eyes again. "...Out of line." She gripped Miranda's hands and removed them promptly as the woman pulled away in surprise. Shepard released them in an instant, snorting. "Come on, Miranda!" she chortled. "Charm doesn't work on me." She pulled away as she watched the XO stagger back somewhat, clearly astonished. Shepard chuckled and sauntered toward the door, turning around as she reached it. "Oh, and, Miranda? ...Tell the Illusive Man that if he has a problem with my decision to keep this varren, he can kiss my ass."
The commander departed and Miranda was left standing, still in a little shock. She felt oddly isolated and as if she was still waiting for something. "Damn it," she whispered to herself in a decisive growl, sitting herself at her chair again. She shook her head, trying to focus on her work again. Truthfully she did not mind the varren, but did not shirk her responsibilities. She needed to be stern where the commander was soft, or the balance would fall out of place.
She stopped trying to figure the commander out and simply shook her head at her failed attempt to seduce her. For a moment she wondered what she would have done had it worked, and where it might have led. She hoped to lead her on with temptation, only to release the leash in a simple attempt to draw her focus to something out of her reach. It may have set her straight – so to speak – but as she was aware, the commander's unpredictability was not a temporary attribute.
She turned her thoughts from it and toward her screen, trying to force the events from her mind. Although they would not go as commanded, she could try.
ooo
The commander lowered her omni-tool and it faded, a smug smile upon her face. She leaned against the back of Joker's seat as the pilot scowled.
He continued to shake his head in disbelief. "I can't believeshe actually did that. Miranda, who would sooner cut off her own leg than risk losing any dignity."
"My report is not inaccurate, Mister Moreau," EDI chimed in, to which Joker only scoffed.
"You better believe it," Shepard responded with a shrug. "Otherwise those two-hundred credits you just gave me were a generous donation to my cause."
Joker shook his head. "Yeah, well, your cause is a bunch of bullshit... Commander," he added with mock-professionalism.
"Just do your job, Joker," the commander responded with a smile, turning away.
"As always, Commander..."