Boundaries

Miranda sat at her desk in her office aboard the Normandy. The office was her private sanctuary; it insulated her from the comings and goings of the crew, affording her the time needed to keep the Illusive Man informed of the mission's progress. Things seemed to be going well so far, Wilson's attempt to kill her and derail the Lazarus Project notwithstanding. Per Miranda's recommendation to the Illusive Man, a sweep of all current Cerberus operations and cells would be carried out, ensuring no further security breaches.

Commander Shepard appeared to have recovered from the initial shock when she'd been informed that two years had passed between her death and subsequent resurrection. Billions of credits had been funneled into Lazarus from various sources: Cerberus front companies, wealthy benefactors eager to secure humanity's place in the galaxy and by other means that not even Miranda herself was privy too. The Illusive Man had given Miranda a single goal - see to it that Shepard succeeded in the coming fight against the Collectors and Miranda vowed to do whatever it took to see that Shepard did succeed.

The Cerberus operative looked up as the locks disengaged and her office door slid open with a mechanical sound almost like a sigh. Shepard stood on the threshold between Miranda's office and the rest of the ship, eyes moving from side to side as she quickly catalogued the room's contents - desk, office chair, sleeping area, Miranda.

Shepard's gaze settled on the dark-haired woman seated across from her. Like her office, Miranda was unadorned. She wore no rings or other items of jewelery though that was likely a matter of practicality. The office itself felt almost sterile, with only a viewport giving an impressive panorama of the space around the Normandy breaking up the monotony of plain bulkheads.

Stepping into the office proper, Shepard asked, "Do you have a minute, Miranda?"

Miranda glanced at the half-finished report on her desktop terminal's holographic display and back up at Shepard. "There's a lot to do, Shepard. Maybe another time?"

Shepard shook her head, taking a position against the port bulkhead, arms folded over her chest, right ankle crossed over left, "This won't take a minute," she replied. The Commander's posture was one of studied casualness but it was an act Miranda wasn't buying.

Even before Cerberus rebuilt her, Shepard had possessed almost supernaturally quick reflexes, honed by years of special forces training. Given the extensive cybernetic enhancements necessary to bring her back to life, Miranda had no doubt that, if she so chose, Shepard could unfold herself from the bulkhead and be across the room before most people could do more than blink. Miranda was not most people, however.

Miranda pushed back from her desk, a slight frown creasing her brow. "We need to have a little chat about boundaries, Shepard," she said, feeling mildly annoyed. Was this Shepard's way of attempting to exert dominance? To Miranda's surprise, Shepard laughed.

"Boundaries...that's cute coming from you. I spent how long exposed and naked while Cerberus had its way with me?" Shepard glanced down at herself and smirked, "And whose idea was it to firm up my bust? Not that I'm complaining, mind."

Miranda's frown deepened. "Is there something you wanted to discuss, Commander?" she asked, again wishing that the Illusive Man had allowed her to implant command and control wetware into Shepard's brain.

Still leaning against the bulkhead, Shepard asked, "You know what Cerberus' problem is, Lawson?"

Miranda folded her hands together atop her desk blotter. "No. But I'm sure you're going to tell me."

Still smiling slightly, Shepard replied, "When most people hear the word Cerberus they think pro-human, anti-alien..." Shepard trailed off, her smile deepening as she resumed her train of thought, "Morally bankrupt."

"Spare me, Shepard," Miranda felt her anger rise and forced herself to relax. Shepard is just looking to provoke a reaction, she told herself. "If not for morally bankrupt Cerberus, you would be dead and there would be nobody to carry the fight to our enemies."

The former Spectre raised a hand in an apparently conciliatory gesture. "I'm not here to start an argument."

Miranda took a breath, released it slowly. "Then why are you here?"

"Hearts and minds," Shepard spoke softly, forcing Miranda to lean forward in order to hear. "Cerberus needs to win the battle for hearts and minds if they hope to be seen as something more than they're perceived to be."

Miranda's eyes widened as she considered what Shepard had told her, thought about the implications. It would indeed be useful if Cerberus could change how the galaxy viewed the organisation. But how? Where to even begin?

Shepard nodded as Miranda digested her words. "Take Veetor as a for-instance," she said. "You wanted to take him to some Cerberus facility for an interrogation-"

Miranda cut her off with a raised hand. "It would have been gentle questioning, Commander," the Cerberus operative interjected.

Shepard rolled her eyes, "Please, you and I both know that if Cerberus had 'gently questioned' him," the Commander made quotation marks with her fingers, "He would have been sent back to the quarians in a box. A small box. At the very least he'd have been left even more screwed up than when we found him."

Shepard and Miranda locked gazes for several moments before Shepard went on, "Instead, we sent him home to the quarians and he'll tell everybody about how the nice humans came and found him and saved him from the monsters." Shepard tapped her breastbone, "Hearts and minds, Lawson. Hearts and minds."

Miranda shook her head, "You can't be that naive, Commander. The words of a single, very likely unbalanced quarian are not going to be enough to improve the galaxy's perception of us."

Shepard shrugged, "You have to start somewhere, Miranda. Just think about it is all I'm saying." Shepard pushed herself off the bulkhead, touched two fingers to her forehead in mock salute and exited the office.

It was a while before Miranda was able to focus herself enough to finish her report; Shepard's words persisted in her mind, seeming to demand that Miranda give them proper consideration.