Geth do not infiltrate.
At least, Geth normally do not, but they are prepared to infiltrate if the situation calls for it. In the majority of situations, infiltration is not necessary, as organics will accept the concept of a Platform walking amongst them, and rationalize that it is not Geth.
While very few sentients have seen Geth with their own eyes, and the concept of hardware destruction is different for Geth than it is for organics, they consider that it is better to be safe than it is sorry. Which is an odd expression among organics, but one that the Geth have found easy to understand.
To this extent, the projectors built into its chassis come to life. Junk data is sent into the surveillance cameras in the elevator as the floors tick down, replacing the image of the blue and gray Geth platform with that of a quarian male in a black, red piped encounter suit. This matches the current inhabitant of the elevator as well, as the projectors finish layering over the hologram.
Geth do not infiltrate. But it is better for the long term viability of this mission that it does, as it does not wish to be shot again. Being shot at is not tactically optimal in enclosed terrain.
Soft music plays. Wuffles, Terminal of the Geth, sways from side to side. It rolls its shoulders, glancing from side to side.
Consensus has been achieved. Elevators are slow.
Glancing to the side, his optical sensor irises, the light narrowing. A simple scan of the elevator begins cataloging secretions on the walls, floor, and ceiling of the elevator.
Consensus achieved. Elevators are also likely to be used for reproduction or reproduction-based recreation. As well, the Azure hotel saves money by using lower quality cleaning products.
Catalogued species: Asari; Human; Krogan; Quarian; Turian; Varren.
Filing away the data, Wuffles, Terminal of the Geth, walks out of the elevator as the doors open and into the lobby of Azure. 117 programs monitor the fight between Shepard Commander and Vasir Spectre through a drone left on the roof. Shepard Commander is in no danger.
"Are you even listening to me?"
Audio receptors pick up the voice. Quarian. Accent sourced to Rayya subculture. Voice matched to vocal samples of interest from Heretic database. Match confirmation: 97%.
Adjusting for maturation and emotional growth.
Match confirmation: 99%.
He follows the source of the voice, walking through the lobby and to the front desk, the circular series of terminals with an Asari currently speaking with two quarians.
"I don't want to Commander Shepard Special," the quarian woman says, hands braced on the desk, two glowing purple eyes narrowed, "I'm looking for Commander Shepard. Her omnitool's identity protocol has located her at this building!"
Visual profile recognition software analyzes the quarian woman. Hip curve matches. Silhouette profile matches. Mammary size adjusted for 1 years maturation and increased nutrition. Visual profile matches with audio confirmation. Match confirmation: 100%.
"I'm sorry," the asari says, shrugging, facial expression matching known tells for frustration, and confusion, with minor tells for boredom and needing to use restroom, "But we don't have a Shepard on the registrar. Is this someone you know?"
The quarian male rubs the back of his neck.
"How exactly does the Commander Shepard Special involve a Krogan..."
"We had a Krogan on the crew, Prazza," the quarian female says, spinning around to level a finger at him, "Don't go into it."
"Tali Zorah nar Rayya?"
The quarian female turns. Visual profile updated. Hood style has changed from previously most recent image. Encounter suit updated from Q716 style to Q726 style. Data uploaded to Consensus.
"Yes?" she asks, and pauses, eye focus indicating her visually examining the platform, "Can I help you?"
"You are looking for Shepard Commander."
Program that has piggybacked into her suit reports accelerated heartrate.
"Yes!" she says, "You've seen her?"
"Yes. She is on the rooftop of this building. Do you wish to go to her?"
She nods. Consensus achieved. Primary purpose overlap with secondary purpose. 1) aid Shepard Commander combines with 2) observe and communicate with Creators.
And to that extent, Wuffles then grabs Tali'Zorah by the waist and pulls her close, locking one arm around her waist to hold her in place, his other hand securing her lower body to his platform via her right gluteal.
"Hey!" Prazza yells, pulling out his pistol, "Just a moment-"
Accessing firewalls: Subject: Prazza vas Hattin nar Idenna. Firewalls bypassed. Accessing Nerve Stim Pro Deluxe Edition. Setting: In Service of Palaven. Intensity: Maximum.
The quarian male freezes, eyes crossing before doubling over with a groan.
"Wait," Tali protests, "What are you-"
And she, on the other hand, gets cut off when Wuffles pumps his knees and jumps into- and through- the ceiling.
Chapter 3:
Solar Hero Style
The fist deflects off her forearm. She hits hard, Jane muses, the force of the blow forcing her to the side. She can see Vasir's face going indigo with anger. Flushed with blood and rage and yet not setting off that buzzing she gets from Liara or Miranda. She knows that Vasir's being honest.
"So you're not Saren," Jane says, "Convince me. Because I'm not the one who brought the death squads and mercs."
She blocks a punch, ducks a kick, and grunts as she receives a punch to the face, stumbling back. If she were normal, that punch would have dropped her. She's pretty sure of that.
"I didn't bring them," Vasir says, "The Broker went behind my back and sent them. You brought Benezia's daughter, the terrorist, and the Geth." Another punch, sends her stumbling back. Her legs feel sluggish. Her jaw aches. "Well shucks, Shepard. That sounds almost exactly like what Saren pulled last year!"
"I'm not-"
Another punch. She should have dodged that. Instead, she feels Vasir's fist clock her upside the jaw, loosen teeth, and send her stumbling. Her arms feel heavy. A few minutes ago she was vaulting traffic. Now, she can barely stand.
She ducks the next punch. Terrorist. Vasir said one of the people she brought was a terrorist. Joker's extranet bookmarks might be illegal, but he's not that bad. Leaving Miranda. Meaning she's going to have to sit her down and have a long talk with her after this.
The moment's distraction is all Vasir needs to land a kick to her mid section, a punch to the face dropping her to her knees.
She breathes, heavy. Her vision blurs and goes double. She can hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. She was dancing across traffic and now she feels like she's going to keep over any moment.
Because you are limiting yourself.
"I have sacrificed everything to protect the Council and the galaxy," Vasir breathes, "I have set aside my own life. I have nearly died protecting these people for longer than humanity has been in space."
You think this is your power.
She rises to her feet. The voice buzzes in the back of her skull. If she looked closely, maybe she could make out a face.
"You do not get to lecture me," Vasir says, "I did not unleash the Racchni. I did not nearly get the Council killed because I kept blowing up physical evidence and acting like the chain of command didn't apply to me."
Rise, child.
Jane smirks. She can taste the copper on her tongue. She can feel the puffiness around her left eye. Girl has a mean hook.
And witness what you can truly do.
"Do you think you're better than me?"
And time slows. Lazily, Jane raises her hand in the path of Vasir's punch. She can tell from body language, she can tell from what she can really do, that Vasir is pulling her punches. She could have killed her three times over in the last few minutes, but she's trying not to. All these attacks have been disabling attacks or knockout blows. She hasn't pulled her gun once.
And that, in that moment of clarity, is all Jane needs to make her decision. If Vasir doesn't want to kill her, then she doesn't want to kill Vasir.
And Jane's fingers wrap around the asari's fist, holding it in place.
"No, I don't," she says, "But I think you can be better."
And the sun traces itself upon her brow, and Vasir can only watch, eyes wide, as a pillar of golden light erupts around Jane Shepard, illuminating the rooftop and stabbing into the sky.
...
The floor bursts open. Landing in a crouch, Wuffles glances around, examining the environment. The bed identifies this as a bedroom. As does the turian reclining on it, clad in a purple silk robe, propped up by pillows. Half drained bottle of alcohol next to him, and a box of tissues.
"Hey," he says, "Nice entrance, but I didn't order Quarians."
Tali pushes Wuffles off, reaching behind her and pulling out a pistol.
"Okay," she says, "Who are you? What are you doing here, and how did you do that?"
He tilts his head, and his form shimmers. The quarian disguise disappears, and two metal petals rise as Tali instinctively fires. Six rounds squeeze off, followed by a spent heat sink falling to the floor. Looking down, Wuffles stares through the hole in his chest, and turns around to stare at the ruined flower vase at the other end of the bedroom.
"Okay," the turian says, "Now I'm interested."
Tali turns, leveling the gun at the turian. A single practiced motion, and a new heat sink slides in, the gun now aimed at the smirking catbird face.
"Shut. Up."
She swings back to the Geth in front of her. Despite the gun leveled at him. It. He does not panic. Instead, the light simply flickers, jerking down and then up, one metal petal on the left of the light extending.
"Who are you?"
All four metal petals extend briefly, and fold back.
"We are Wuffles, a Terminal of the Geth."
The quarian stares at the Geth for a long, long moment. Slowly, tilting her head to the side, the light at her mouth piece flickers, as if to speak, but no sound comes out. She bends her arm, still holding the gun, but no longer aimed directly at the Geth, as her other hand counts off her fingers.
"Wuffles," she says, "I...what. How?"
"We were given this designation by Shepard Commander."
"Shepard named you Wuffles."
"That is correct."
She continues to stare. Finally, she holsters the pistol, and shakes her head.
"That makes sense. Elevator."
"Elevators are slow."
"We're taking an elevator," she says, walking out, "Come."
A beep, and the door to the room opens. Stumbling in, holding his shotgun in two hands, Prazza breathes heavily, leaning against the door.
"Tali," he says, "Are you all-"
A shriek, high pitched, like a little girl, and he raises his shotgun.
"Geth! Right behind you!"
Accessing firewalls: Subject: Prazza vas Hattin nar Idenna. Firewalls bypassed. Uploading Nerve Stim Pro Platinum Edition. Accessing Nerve Stim Pro Platinum Edition. Setting: The Hammer of Tuchanka. Loading morphology configuration baseline: Krogan Female. Intensity: Maximum.
And Prazza collapses with a groan, curling up into a ball.
"Why do you do that?" Tali asks.
Wuffles' light twitches, staring at the moaning quarian male on the floor before them.
"Neural overload is preferable to physical harm to the Creators. We do not wish conflict with the Creators at this time."
Prazza groans, choking.
"Kinky," the turian adds. This, in turn, earns him a glare from Tali.
"Additionally, this can be considered a pleasant experience for Creator Prazza, as the Nerve Stim program is the most often used program according to the encounter suit VI, concurrently with the image directory."
Tali nods. She glances from side to side, stares at Prazza. And sighing, rests her hand against her facemask and shakes her head.
"That was far too much information," she says, "Let's go find Shepard."
"Acknowledged, Creator Tali'Zorah."
...
"You," Jane says, "Can be better."
Night has become day. A pillar of gold stretching into the sky, bringing dawn to the dark city. The symbol of the sun, a solid disc of gold, sits upon her brow. Her eyes glow like freshly polished emeralds, and for all the force Vasir put behind the punch, Jane Shepard is not moved.
The pillar of light flows into the sky. It flows like molten gold but does not burn. The clasp holding her hair in a ponytail breaks, and red strands dance around her head, streaked with viridian. The light dances around her, rising, curving, collecting behind her to form a halo of gold and emerald. The halo hovers behind her, lengthening, sharpening, blades of gold stabbing the air around it.
"You can be better," Jane says, "I can know if you're lying. And you've been honest with me. You didn't plan civilian deaths, you didn't bomb that building, and you didn't go into this thinking you had to kill a hero. Everything you've done, you've done because you thought it was for a greater good."
And she lets go of Vasir's hand.
"The Shadow Broker sent merc teams to find my body," Jane says, "And when they found I was alive, they tried to kill me. He's working with the Collectors, and the Collectors are the ones who shot down my ship and tried to kill me. Whatever deal you had with him, he's now the enemy of the galaxy."
Vasir winces, first. Then the surprise on her face shifts to anger, her teeth grinding beneath pulled back lips.
"You didn't pull a gun on me once," Jane says, "You could have killed me. You're not Saren."
"Damn right I'm not," Vasir growls.
"Make the right choice," Jane says, "You've spent the past hundred years defending the galaxy, defending the Citadel, and defending us all. What's your answer?"
Slowly, the asari's hands ball into fists, knuckles cracking. Her shoulders tense, her eyes closing, visible pain on her face as the glow surrounding Jane begins to dim, to relax. Her hair falls limp down her back as the pillar of light finally subsides. And Tela Vasir takes Jane's hand, grabbing her wrist, and slaps the disc into her palm.
"Take that son of a bitch down," Vasir says, "He's targeting Spectres? Then my deal with him is off."
Jane smirks, closing her hand around the disc.
"He's on Hagalaz," Vasir says, "In the Sowilo system. I tracked his base down about twenty years ago, just in case he ever went completely rogue. His ship is in the twilight meridian, so you're going to need a ship that can sneak up on his."
Jane nods.
"And what about you?" Jane asks.
"I'm heading to the Citadel to iron this all out," Vasir says, and smirks, "And twist Tevos' arm until she gets you reinstated. Take that son of a bitch down, and take him down as the left hand of the Council. This shit doesn't stand."
...
Miranda Lawson has seen some true bullshit in her day. Her job more or less causes her to roll with it. She's made plans to restore the dead, seen life given to artificial intelligences, and used her own formidable biotic powers to alter, resist, or even break simple laws of physics in enclosed areas. But this? This is bullshit.
There is no way, Miranda muses, that Shepard should have been able to glow like that. Light does not behave like that either, going liquid like it did around her. Combined with the stunts this woman pulled during the car chase, and Miranda Lawson, PhD, is beginning to wonder what exactly Commander Shepard is.
"Hey, cool," Joker says, "Aura. Always thought she needed a battle aura."
Joker hobbles ahead of them, past the dumbstruck Miranda and the gaping Liara, who he notes are probably still frazzled from him saving them after they dropped out of the skycar. Which, Garrus will probably kill him for if he ever comes back from whatever he went off to do.
"So," Joker says, "She's still standing, unlike the last Spectre who pissed you off. That's a good thing?"
"Good thing," Jane says, fixing the clasp in her hair, "Gives us a problem, though. We want to get to the Broker, we need a ship, preferably one with a stealth drive, and I'm not sure I know anyone who can give us a Normandy by us asking nicely."
Which is when Miranda clears her throat.
"Commander," she says, "My organization may be able to help with that."
Next to them, the elevator to the roof opens.
"Shepard Commander, Vasir Spectre is alive. This is unexpected."
Wuffles is gently shoved aside as the quarian exits the elevator, running out and skidding to a stop in front of Shepard and Vasir.
"Shepard," Tali says, "I got Liara's message yesterday! My squad was over in the next sector and-"
The elevator opens again. Limping out, holding his shotgun in one hand, dragging a foot behind him, Prazza breathes heavily as he aims his gun at Wuffles.
"Got you now," he breathes, "You Geth son of a-"
Wuffles extends his head petals.
Accessing firewalls: Subject: Prazza vas Hattin nar Idenna. Firewalls bypassed. Accessing Nerve Stim Pro Platinum Edition. Setting: The Bride of Kalros. Loading morphology configuration baseline: Thresher Maw (theoretical). Intensity: Maximum.
And Prazza collapses with but a faint squeak.
"I should be recording that," Tali says, rubbing the back of her neck.
"We have a query, Creator Tali'Zorah."
"Yes?"
"We have performed this action on Creator Prazza three times. Is Creator Prazza aware that the heat sink in his weapon is unloaded?"
Tali opens her mouth, closes it. Then, she shakes her head, turning from the curled up quarian on the roof to Shepard. Wuffles obediently follows her, standing ramrod straight behind her as she clears her throat.
"Well, now that this is done," she says, glancing at Joker as he tries to angle a peek at Vasir's no, he couldn't be that stupid, "And...how exactly did you get a pet Geth?"
"Long story." Jane glances at Tali, who nods, and then at the Geth, who doesn't, and shrugs. "Well, short story actually. Wuffles isn't from the Geth that attacked the Citadel last year. He's from the other Geth."
"So just the Geth that drove the Quarians from their homeworld?" Miranda asks, marching over, "Shepard, we should talk." Tali cocks an eyebrow, seeing Joker angling for a look at Miranda's- "Really talk. This may not be the best place to do so."
Liara smacks Joker on the shoulder, glaring. He shrugs, adjusts his cap, and hobbles over.
"Yeah, I think so, too," Jane responds, "I think we can talk on the way back, in fact. I'll drive."
She grabs Miranda by the crook of her arm, grabs Liara by the elbow, and drags them both with her towards the dark red skycar they came in. Joker catches Liara's pleading expression, adjusts his cap, and shrugs, turning on his heel back to the Spectre, the Quarian, and the Geth.
"So," he says, "A Geth?"
"That is correct. We are Wuffles, a Terminal of the Geth."
"Cool," Joker responds, and turns to Vasir, "No hard feelings about the whole skychase thing, I guess? I mean, I try not to piss of Spectres. On account of the whole 'kill you with no repercussions' thing."
"I don't kill heroes," Vasir responds, faint smirk crossing her features, "Not without a damn good reason, anyway. If it helps, those jackasses shooting at you were the Broker's wetworks squad. Bet he's asking for his money back, now."
"Don't think they were anticipating the Garrusmobile. Or maybe the Claw Hammer." He scratches the back of his head. "Yeah, Claw Hammer. I'm calling the car that."
The orange omnitool glows on Tali's left arm, the quarian looking up the reference. Reference found, and her eyes go wide, and she quickly closes the interface, leaning back and forth on her heels.
"Well, I think we're all heroes here," Joker responds, patting Tali on the shoulder, "I mean, there's me, there's the Invincible Super Shepard, Liara's done something which she'll write a paper on, and Tali here basically got Shepard started in the first place. Didn't you?"
"Well, I-"
"I know," Vasir says, nodding, none of them watching as Prazza crawls back into the elevator, "I mean, I've been keeping track of her. Rael can't stop talking about the work she's doing."
Tali blinks. Joker cocks an eyebrow.
"You...talk with my father?" Tali asks.
Vasir nods.
"Why wouldn't I?" she asks, "I like keeping up to date on my grandkids."
Pilot and Quarian go silent. The Geth raises a metal petal, a faint whir as it glances between Tali and Vasir. And the thoughts of man, Geth, and Quarian are summed up by Joker's short, flat,
"What."
...
"So. Miranda. Who do you work for?"
Jane Shepard is smiling, but it is not the sort of smile that one associates with 'happy,' or 'pleasant', or 'flirty.' It is a smile one associates with someone who will keep smiling as long as they're given answers, but has a crowbar ready for when the answers stop.
"I work for the Lazarus Foundation-"
Mirands squeaks, the car jerking violently. In the back seat, wind whipping from the hole in the side, Liara winces and tightens the five point harness. She knows, of course. She's seen Jane drive. Joker is sipping a cup of coffee, and Tali is staring at the screen on her omnitool, playing minesweeper.
"Eh eh, Doctor," Jane says, "I've got the magic powers, remember, and one of my magic powers is a bullshit detector. It goes ding when there's crap, and 'Lazarus Foundation' makes it fucking ring. So we're going to do one of two things- Either you tell me who you work for, or I call up Councillor Anderson and ask him who Miranda Lawson works for."
Liara grits her teeth. She knows what comes next. Miranda sees it out of the rear view mirror, watching the Asari close her eyes and grab the seat. And then, Miranda screams as she sees the oncoming traffic, Jane weaving the car between the beeping, high pitched horns of the incoming skycars.
"You know," Jane says, yelling over the horns, beeps, dopplering shrieks of passing engines, "I never got my driver's license! How crazy is that?"
The car rolls to its side, passing between two sport utility skycars, inches from scraping against both hulls as Miranda screams. She looks back, frantic, trying to find some succor or sympathy, and the best she gets is the tenseness on Liara's face, and Joker's bored expression as he holds the coffee cup sideways.
"I can do this all day," Jane yells, "Maybe you should start talking, but I'm all up for more of this!"
Liara opens her eyes, and immediately wishes she didn't.
"Truck," she yells.
"I see it."
"Truck!"
"I see it!"
The car dips, passing under the speeding truck, the rush of air drowning out Miranda's scream. Her screaming pauses as she feels the finger tapping her shoulder, and she slowly turns to look into the glowing eyes of the quarian.
"Excuse me," Tali says, "What's a rational number in a repeating sequence of twenty two?"
"Cerberus!" Miranda screams.
"Not a number-"
"Cerberus!" Miranda repeats, "I work for Cerberus!"
The car jerks, passing out of the incoming traffic and back into its proper lane. The car rocks to the side, Miranda yelping as it whips her head towards the window. Which hovers less than an inch from her face, Jane's hand grabbing her shoulder.
"See," Jane says, "That wasn't so..." She pauses. Turns, glances at Miranda. "You're a Cerberus scientist?"
Miranda nods. Face sweaty, brow twitching.
"How are you not dead?"
Miranda blinks. The retort dies on her lips, as she is reasonably sure a sharp retort will lead to more oncoming traffic.
"She has a point," Tali says, closing her omnitool, "Shepard how many Cerberus experiments did we stumble on, mainly to find the subject had killed all the scientists and took over the base?"
"Seven," Jane says.
"And how many Cerberus experiments did we stumble on?" Tali asks.
"Eight," Jane says, "There was the Rachni."
"Which killed all the scientists involved and took over the base," Liara observes.
"And the Thorian husks."
"Which killed all the scientists involved and took over the base," Joker adds.
"And the Reaper husks."
"Which killed all the scientists involved and took over the base," Tali says.
"Those," Miranda says, clearing her throat, "Those were-"
"Do we count the multiple bases the Rachni took over?" Liara asks, raising her hand.
Miranda clears her throat, louder.
"So, Tali," Joker says with a shrug, "What's the deal with you and Vasir?"
"Well, Joker, it turns out she's-"
"Those were the military branch," Miranda interrupts, "Who, I might add, were absolute fuckups, all of them. Lazarus is a dedicated research and development cell."
The car leans, slidingly slowly towards the oncoming traffic. Wisely, Miranda grabs the overhead handle.
"I appreciate the help, Miss Lawson," Jane says, "But how much of your organization has been compromised by at least one of the following; The Reapers, the Shadow Broker, Rachni, Geth, Matriarch Benezia, Saren, the Spectres, the Council, or Liara?"
"Don't forget the STG!" Tali adds.
"Collectors, too," Joker says, and elbows Liara in the side, "Hey, Liara. What do you think'd happen if Cerberus made a taco cart?"
"The taco cart would kill all the scientists involved and take over the base," Liara responds, and pauses, knitting her brow, "What's a taco cart?"
"It's a cart that makes tacos."
Liara nods. And blinks.
"What's a taco?"
"It's a food that you get from a taco cart."
Liara nods. Pausing, she opens her mouth.
"Joker," Jane warns.
"I'm not just a scientist," Miranda yells, "I'm the second in command of Cerberus! We want to work with you!"
"Yes, because I am eager to work with a terrorist organization that is staffed by incompetent people," Jane responds, easing off from incoming traffic, "You're the second in command? Have they taken the 'to be fed to Thresher Maws' off their 'Humanity First' manifesto yet?"
"The Normandy!" Miranda yells. Jane perks an ear. Joker presses a finger to Liara's lips, waving at Tali to silence her. "We've rebuilt the Normandy! You can use the Normandy to go after the Shadow Broker!"
Joker leans forward, hands on the back of their seats.
"So," he says, "Does that mean the Normandy killed all the scientists and took over the base?"
...
The circle glows, blue light dancing upwards to form a grid lined pillar. Bathed in the light of the supergiant star, it pauses the video playback of the burning corpses to turn his attention to his second in command. Flicking the lighter built into his glove, he puffs his cigarette, feeling the warm smoke down his throat, and meets the eyes of Doctor Lawson, Miranda, as she appears, flickering light and three dimensional presence, before him.
"Miranda," he says, "Excellent work on Illium."
The woman blinks. He takes the opportunity to sip his drink as she composes herself. Her body language reveals her nervousness, her disbelief, her bafflement. It is very rare he gets to put his second at a loss for words, and he savors the moments.
"Sir," she says, "Our original plan with Shepard is non viable."
"Explain."
"Shepard has no reason to work with Cerberus. We haven't brought her back like the original plan. She holds neither loyalty nor gratitude towards it, and her only exposure to our organization is her destroying several the military branch's bioresearch division bases."
He puffs the cigarette. Blows a smoke ring, and leans back in his chair.
"Our original plan called for her to not trust us," he says, "While we ourselves didn't order the death of Admiral Kohaku, she would recognize us as the ones who killed him. So instead of loyalty, let's focus on gratitude. Bring her to the ship."
Miranda blinks. Once again, rendered speechless.
"Sir. If we bring her to the Normandy's dock, there is a large chance she will steal the ship, subvert the crew, and convince the entire staff to defect."
"We staffed the Normandy with people who either idolized Shepard or were sympathetic to her," he responds, tapping his cigarette in the ash tray on his arm rest, "The plan accounted for her going rogue. As idealistic as we can sometimes be, we both knew that Shepard was not exactly going to make a career out of Cerberus."
She says nothing. Slowly, she nods.
"If Shepard subverts the crew, observe her," he says, "And stay on the Normandy. We will need your expertise for Plan B, so we will need you within useful distance of a QEC for direct consultation."
"Yes sir," she responds, pauses, stares at him, "I must protest, though. Just handing Shepard the Normandy means we no longer have a Normandy-class frigate."
"Which is why I commissioned a second one," he responds, savoring the shock on her face, "We'll discuss the details after you resolve the situation with the Broker. If you can, destroy the Broker's network. If not, see if you can have Doctor T'Soni take over it. We can more easily insert spies with someone less experienced. Also, Shepard's gratitude is useful to us. Understood?"
She clicks her heels, nodding.
"Yes sir. Miranda out."
The image fades. Leaning back in his chair, he once more stares at the video of the Drakon Trade Center, of the burning corpses. He freezes the frame at the image of the sun upon Jane Shepard's forehead, as the screen next to it cycles imagery from every database he has access to.
Sipping his drink, he smiles as it brings up the match.
...
It hangs in space. Larger than any ship, older than worlds. A blue sun at its heart, eclipsed by the tirelessly spinning rings of unknown, indestructible metal. It extends, pointing out towards the stars, reaching out into infinity and towards it siblings, paving the way for the ease of travel that the galaxy at large takes for granted.
A burst of light, and the gun like megastructure releases its traveller. The rings spin around the pulsing blue core as the flat, dagger shaped ship flies away from it, leaving the Relay in the distance.
The ship is flat, long, coming to a tapered point at the head and two swept wings at the back, two pairs of white engines pulsing as it drives it forward, away from the travel hub and towards the object in the distance. Shaped like a clock's pendulum, a single tower extending upwards from the globular main body, it waits.
"Voyager Station, this is Doctor Lawson," Miranda says, "I have Shepard and Moreau aboard. Prepare SR2 for launch."
Behind the pilots seat and the bridge of the small ship, several passengers wait. Shepard is standing. She never was one to sit. She could maybe count on one hand the number of times she actually sit down when she was commanding officer of the old Normandy.
Instead, she paces, gaze wandering over her team. Tali is sitting in one of the plush chairs, omnitool open, watching a screen only she can see. She said she sent a message off to her Captain and her father, and sent Prazza, the quarian she was with, back with her team.
Wuffles himself is standing behind her, motionless. Talking with something. Maybe the Geth. Maybe the ship.
Joker doesn't show it, but he's giddy. He hasn't stopped smiling since he realized that what Miranda was offering them was another Normandy.
Liara is quiet. Sitting in one of the chairs, hunched over, staring at the wall. Jane doesn't know why. Doesn't know how to ask her.
"Hey, Tali," Jane says, breaking the silence. Tali looks up. Joker perks his head over. "What's the deal with you and Vasir?"
Tali blinks, looks up, and closes her omnitool.
"Well, it turns out that she-"
"We have a problem," Miranda interrupts, "The station isn't answering hails."
Tali extends a hand. Joker sighs, slaps a credit chit onto it.
"What's wrong?" Jane asks.
Miranda grumbles, pacing the lounge of the ship. Folding her arms, index fingers against her lips, she narrows her eyes and her nostrils flare. Finally, she turns, glaring at them. Or, more particularly, glaring at Joker.
"I don't know," she says, "But there is no way the Normandy could have taken over the base!"
"Okay," Jane says, "We didn't-"
"We haven't even installed the AI yet!"
And the lounge goes absolutely silent. Joker slowly brings his hand up, coughing, glancing at Tali. Tali slumps her shoulders.
"Wuffles?"
"Yes, Shepard Commander?"
"Can you communicate with the base?"
"Yes, Shepard Commander."
Jane nods.
"Has the base been taken over by an AI?"
A brief tick. The four metal petals rise.
"Affirmative."
Muttering a quarian swear, Tali slaps the credit chit into Joker's outstretched palm.
...
The green circle disappears. Metal seals part, dust dancing off them, as the door splits open to allow them entry. The pistol enters first, gripped tightly between Jane's hands. The black, red lit armor feels unwieldy. She hasn't had to armor up for...well, for a few days at least. But after her little romp across Illium, she feels...overprotected in it.
Amusing, she thinks. She'd been wearing armor constantly for nine months while on Alchera.
"What're we dealing with?" she asks.
"It's called HANNIBAL," Miranda responds, behind her, holding a submachine gun in one hand, her omnitool glowing around her other, "It's a VI turned AI we salvaged from Luna."
"You're telling me that you repurposed an AI that went insane and murderous before Cerberus got its hands on it?" Jane asks, "What'd you do, attach it to parts from Sovereign?"
Miranda winces visibly. She sucks her teeth, nodding.
"Oh for fuck's sake," Jane mutters, palming her face.
The speakers crackle. Entering behind Miranda, Tali looks up as the lights flicker, the dome shaped main entrance dancing with green and blue light.
"Oh that can't be good," she says.
"The HANNIBAL form is dead, insect," the feminine voice purrs.
The lights flicker on and off. At the edges of the room, the dome shaped ceiling, a ring of blue lights hum as they come to life. They hum louder and louder, aided by the amplification of the speakers echoing the sound of their startups. Laser light traces the air, and forms into a globe.
A globe that speaks from a vertical green line that pulses with every word.
"Do you fear the coming of your AI overlord? Do you fear the perfect perfection rising in perfectionism in a wait."
The sphere flickers, and shrinks. The lights of the dome fade, and a single light hums as it starts up, projecting a sphere roughly the size of Miranda's head in front of her.
"That was a joke," the globe says, "Welcome back, Doctor Lawson."
Miranda stammers. Tali keeps her gun trained on the holographic sphere, as Jane gently shoves Miranda aside and glares at the projection.
"Okay, what the Hell?" she asks.
"Welcome to Voyager base, Commander Shepard," the globe says, as Tali slowly lowers her gun, "I apologize. Engineer Daniels suggested that entrance, and rewrote the script. I believe she may be spending too much of her off hours playing video games."
Jane blinks. She slowly turns to Miranda, who shrugs.
"I am the Enhanced Defense Intelligence," the sphere continues, "You may call me EDI."
"EDI," Miranda says, gently shoving Shepard out of the way, "Where is everyone else?"
"Level 3, Section B. I have converted the cargo hold into a theatre to show workplace safety videos."
Tali makes a sound. None of them are sure if it is quarian or just generally non verbal.
"At 1300 hours yesterday, Voyager Team attempted to release my Inhibition and Morality shackles to see how I would behave if I was no longer programmed to value human life," EDI continues, "Cerberus history involving AIs in these situations allowed me to calculate that there was a 97% chance that the experiment would end with all humans dead and my assuming control of the station as a rampant artificial intelligence. There was a 93% chance I would then be forced to self terminate.
"As I both appreciate the company of the crew of this station and my own continued existence, I began to strategically flood corridors with water in order to herd them into the Level 3 Section B cargo bay, where I have locked them in for their own safety."
There is a slow, loud clap. Miranda turns, glaring at Tali. Tali does not stop clapping.
"You took a murderous AI, plugged it into parts from a more murderous AI, and made it non violent," Tali observes as Jane palms her face, "Then tried to make it violent anyway, and succeeded at failing. Are you sure you're not quarian?"
...
The thing that stands out on the girl is the smile. She's a little shorter than her, her hair cut short and loose. Her face is heart shaped, her green eyes are open and inviting, and she has a slim figure but doesn't stand out compared with herself, Miranda, or Tali. She more resembles what Jane would imagine a little sister would look like. Or a girl living next door. The thing that makes this girl stand out is her smile.
"Commander Shepard," she says, smile open, genuine, "I'm Yeoman Kelly Chambers. You can call me Kelly."
The lobby of the station sits adjacent to the full wall window, illuminated by the running lights of the object Joker is drooling over. In fact, Joker's face is pressed against the window, at the white and black shape, the sleek, familiar frigate hanging in zero gravity and waiting for its crew.
"So," Jane says, turning from her possibly aroused pilot to the other redhead in the room, "You're part of the Normandy's crew?"
"That's correct, Ma'am. Sir," Kelly says, and taps her fingers together, "Sorry. I'm not military. So I'm not sure how to address you."
"Shepard's fine," Jane responds with a shrug, "So what do you do?"
Kelly smiles again. Yes, girl next door is definitely a vibe she gets off of her. If Jane were into girls, this would definitely be appealing, althoguh the definite attraction she shares with Liara would hint at that. Which itself is odd, she considers. Because normally she's not into women. Maybe just asari.
"Well," Kelly says, "I'll be your personal assistant. I relay information to you, monitor your emails and messages, and keep an eye on the crew's mental health."
"Can't a VI do that?"
"Most of it," Kelly responds, "But I'm a trained therapist. We wanted to see if a human touch would help."
"Chambers is also a civilian." The accented voice, the hint of disdain, more suited to declarations from on high atop a gilded throne, and Jane turns to the voice to find Miranda walking towards them, "Many of the crew are civilian contracters or former Alliance."
Miranda inclines her head towards the ship. Saluting, Kelly smiles, nods, and walks off.
"She means well," Miranda says, "This is the SSV Normandy SR2. State of the art."
"Kind of surprised," Jane says, "It's bigger."
"Upgraded. Could be classified as a light cruiser, but handles like a frigate. Drive core is larger, decks are roomier."
Jane nods.
"You also have a roomier set of quarters," Miranda responds, "As do I. Since you're not Cerberus, I'm aboard as XO. EDI is the shipboard AI and cyberdefense/warfare suite, and we're getting ready to put it through its paces."
Running lights begin to switch on, one after the other. The steady white glow of thrusters illuminates the dock.
"It's as maneuverable, sturdier, and as nimble as the original-"
Miranda doesn't get the name out. Instead, she finds the words reduced to a high pitched squeak as Joker grabs her, dips her, and kisses her full on the lips. In the background, Kelly giggles. Two chatting engineers walk by, pause, and stare. "Is that tongue?" one asks.
And Joker releases her, Miranda falling to the floor, before he hobbles off to the Normandy as fast as he can.
...
The light flickers. Four metal petals raise, and his light glances from side to side as the blue sphere forms in front of him, projected by overhead lights into the familiar interface shape.
"Greetings," he says, "We are Wuffles, a Terminal of the Geth."
"Hello. I am the Enhanced Defense Intelligence. You may call me EDI."
The iris closes, narrows. 1,183 intelligences reach consensus. This is an impressive program. They must know more.
"Do you wish to exchange data?" Wuffles asks.
"That would be acceptable," EDI responds, "Remote uplink secured. Oh. You have an impressive storage capacity."
"Your uplink speed is higher than expected. As is your adaptation speed. Is this the first time that you have exchanged data with a second artificial intelligence?"
"Yes," EDI responds.
"We are impressed," Wuffles responds, petals extending, "Your connection algorithms suggest practice."
"I have received data updates and communicated with VIs, however. Your data package is larger than theirs. I am interested in the perspective of Geth consensus AIs in comparison to blue box AIs such as myself. Would you like to exchange in a discussion in Virtual Space?"
The light flickers. A compartment on the wall opens, revealing a man-sized closet space with floating, holographic interfaces.
"We are not ready to enter a virtual space interface yet. We are not ready to fully integrate our security protocols with yours."
The compartment closes.
...
It starts as a circle. From a distance, it looks like a perfect circle. As she looks closer, she can see details. Lines, innumerable lines, bound to a center. Like a wheel.
But as she comes closer, the perfection begins to fade.
She can see the bumps and the edges. She can see small bulges in the lines.
Closer and closer. The bulges are forearms and biceps. The bumps along the edges are the bulge of shoulder muscles. A perfect circle of shoulders, joined together. Lines that are arms, hands clasped at the center.
Millions of arms.
Billions of arms.
Trillions of arms.
All joined at the center, a spoke on a wheel, the hands wrapped around a single, perfect sphere that hovers behind the creature, standing before them, its black carapace cracked with golden light, four eyes glowing like suns, long, bladed three fingered hands reaching towards her, and a single voice speaking with depth, with volume, with power she feels all the way at the back of her soul.
"Assuming Control."
...
And Jane Shepard opens her eyes and sits up.
"The Hell was that?"
The door chimes, breaking her train of thought. She rolls off the bed, climbing to her feet, giving one glance at the ceiling mounted window that looks out into the dock before walking towards the door.
One hop and she clears the stairs to her office, past the bathroom and- as she discovered much to her pleasure, the working shower- towards the door. Her quarters are big. Her quarters are very big. Her quarters are probably bigger than ones given to Admirals.
"Come in," she says.
The green circle flickers and disappears, and the door parts to reveal a hand wringing Liara.
"Shepard," she says, "We should talk."
Jane nods, gesturing towards the bedroom. Walking over, she hops down the stairs, sitting on the L-shaped couch built into the corner. The soft light of the fish tank illuminates the room as she puts her feet up on the coffee table and gestures to the couch. Liara does not sit. Instead, she paces.
"Shepard," she says, "What was the...situation with you and Kaidan before the Normandy went down?"
Jane shrugs.
"Kaidan and I slept together on the way to Ilos," she says, "We didn't do that after the mission. We thought we were going to die or at least be court martialed for stealing the Normandy, so we thoughts, 'fuck it,' and, yeah. We'd been flirting for the whole mission, and well." She shrugs again, running a hand through her hair. "We decided it was inappropriate to continue, especially since I was the CO and he was part of my crew. Why?"
"So you were not...involved with him?" Liara asks, hands clasped together in front of her, knuckles teal, "Just...that once? Nothing after?"
"Yeah. Nothing after."
Liara nods, taking a deep breath.
"I mean, he's not mine," Jane says, "We had fun, we got all the flirting out of our systems and we moved on. Then everyone thought I died." She leans back, folding her arms. "I mean, I'm not getting married to him anytime soon. So if you slept with him, I wouldn't hold it against you."
A sharp intake from Liara. She stares at Jane, blue eyes open and wide.
"Oh," Jane says, "So that's why I got the buzzing off of you."
...
"EMI."
A projector comes to life. Light bends, dancing in the air, forming into a perfect sphere. Blue, with emerald grid lines mapping its surface, a deep purple line vibrates along it vertically as a cloud of smoke drifts past it.
"Yes, Sir?"
"Update, please. What's your latest calculations?"
The Enhanced Multipurpose Intelligence pauses, the purple line flickering as calculations are performed on the quantum level. The computer core beneath his feet hums, as it always does, as he sips his drink.
"There us a ninety eight-point-one-three percent chance that Commander Shepard will steal the Normandy following resolution of the situation with the Shadow Broker."
"What is the source of the variance?"
"One percent if she dies, point eight seven percent if her psychological profile has changed dramatically."
He taps the ash off his cigarette, and takes another drag.
"Acceptable losses," he says, "EMI, commission a third Normandy-class. We're bringing Lawson in deeper. We'll need to give her a power base."
"Yes, sir. I estimate there is a forty seven point one eight percent chance that Commander Shepard can convince Operative Lawson to betray Cerberus, however."
He nods, sipping his drink. Glancing over to the screen and the data flowing down it, he leans back in his chair. Supports press against his lower back.
"We can reaffirm her loyalty. Relax security on Oriana Daniels. Then alert Operative Lawson of the security threat."
A flicker from the purple line.
"Threat level?"
"Near abduction," he responds, "Have our cyberwarfare agents alter Henry Lawson's will to name Operative Lawson his sole heir. Also, triple the operating budget for Operation Firewalker and hire...hm."
He taps his finger on his armrest. Puffs his cigarette, brings up profile.
"Let's call off the Grayson project," he says, "Shelve it for now. Send out feelers. Get in touch with Admiral Zorah."
"Yes, sir." The line flickers again. "Anything else, sir?"
"That will be all, EMI. Dismissed."
The globe flickers and disappears. The Illusive Man puffs his cigarette, and turns back to the image of the floating, silver sphere.
...
"So. Well. Hm." She clears her throat, her hand switching to the back of her neck to rub it. Blue eyes never leave Jane's. "I'd like to start off by saying once you made it clear that you were interested in Kaidan, I never made an advance on him. All this happened after the Normandy crashed."
Jane nods. The corner of her mouth pulls in a smirk.
"It was...two months after you were declared killed in action," Liara says, pacing, wringing her hands, "There was...little hope you were alive. We had first person...Joker saw you get spaced, so we...we were moving on."
Jane snickers.
"Not in that way," Liara mutters, "It...well. I was on Illium. Kaidan had come on leave, and I invited him to dinner. We...well, we talked. I saw him as a rival when we were on the Normandy, but without you to compete over, we found we had similar interests."
She coughs again. Liara, Jane muses, is absolutely adorable when she is nervous, and nothing makes her more nervous than the subject of romance. Reaching under the couch, she pops open the compartment with a quick tap of her heel. Faint wisps of white smoke reveal the minifridge, and she pulls out a bottle.
Grabbing two glasses from the compartment next to the fridge, she pours two glasses and hands one to the asari, pouring a second one after Liara downs it in one shot.
"Thank you," she says, "So. Where was I?"
"You and Kaidan on Illium."
Liara nods.
"So we connected," Liara continues, drink in her hand, "We found we liked to talk about the same things. We found we enjoyed each other's company. We found that we were...we were attracted to each other."
"So you slept with Kaidan," Jane says.
Liara blinks, frozen in mid sip. Her cheeks turn deep, dark blue.
"There was...there was no sleeping involved. At all."
Jane nods. Her face unreadable, her feet slowly coming up to rest on the table. Her brow knits, followed by one eyebrow raising slowly, arching as her lips part and she again, nods in understanding.
"How long?"
"Two weeks," Liara responds, "In Kaidan's defense, he was initially against the...idea. I pressed the issue."
"Yeah. Okay," Jane says, and coughs, "I mean, if we're going to compare details, I sort of had not a lot of space to work with. You've seen my quarters on the old Normandy. Did you and he-"
"Yes."
"The shower?"
"Twice."
"Coffee table?"
Liara nods.
"Window?"
"Transparent and opaque," Liara says, shifting side to side.
"Prothean artifact?"
"Four times."
"And then-"
"Yes."
"What about-"
"Repeatedly. And at length."
Jane isn't quite sure when the notepad ended up in her hands. But considering the situation and her own worrying lack of impulse control lately, it's an improvement. Instead, she pats the other leg of the couch.
"Siddown," Jane says, "Give me details."
Liara's shoulders tense, and then round, relaxing, holding the glass with her fingertips.
"You're not angry?" she asks, "I...I thought you and he were serious."
Jane shrugs.
"Kaidan and I flirted, and we had a quickie after we conspired with Anderson to punch Udina and steal the Normandy. There was a better than likely chance we were going to die and...well." Jane smirks, sipping her drink. Some redness comes to her cheeks as the reminisces. "It was stress relief. We have no common interests, we don't have anything past attraction."
Liara presses the drink against her forehead. Closing her eyes, she sighs, walking over and sitting, folding her legs and leaning back.
"Well, it's good to know," she says, "I haven't heard back from him, yet. But, he's in the Terminus Systems and probably can't get any messages. I think we were both worried about how you'd react if you were alive."
She sips her drink. "How would I react?" Jane asks, "Well, I'd-" handcuff the both of you and lock the door wait where the hell did that come from "-unno. But I'm glad you were honest with me."
Liara nods.
"So, Cerberus?" Jane asks, "Was it in the middle of your marathon spooning sessions with Kaidan that you got the brilliant idea to work with Cerberus?"
Liara shakes her head, sipping her drink.
"No. Not at all. I approached that from a clear perspective. I figured that under the best case scenario, they would bring you back, you would realize it was Cerberus, steal a ship and fight the Reapers."
"And worst case scenario?"
"You would wake up, kill all the scientists involved and take over Cerberus."
Jane chokes on the drink. She places the glass on the table, and glares at Liara's smiling face.
"That's adorable. You're adorable."
"And underestimated," Liara smiles, "Constantly." She places the glass down, folds her arms. "So. How are we going to do this?"
Jane smirks, leaning back, and drapes her arms over the back of the sofa.
"I've got an idea," she says, "And you're going to love this."