"Alright, someone give me the readouts of the liver function, capillary rebuilding and marrow regeneration projections. Oh, and will someone please explain to me why we're still having problems with the blood sequencing algorithms!? I thought we had this all worked out weeks ago!" Miranda Lawson didn't usually resort to snapping at her colleagues, some of the galaxy's foremost medical and scientific geniuses, but today wasn't any ordinary day.

It had been three months since the Lazarus project had officially begun. Originally, the idea had been to resurrect Shepard just as she was. From an outsider's perspective, it shouldn't have been that hard to do: the brain and all the organs were intact, and there had been minimal time between brain death and her settling on Alchera's frozen surface, so it should have stopped any decomposition before it began. The worst injuries she had actually sustained were some broken ribs and minor fractures on the leg and arm on the right side. It should have been a snap to simply re-invigorate the biological impulses and have her dancing a merry jig inside of a week.

The problems had started almost right away. The stasis field she was contained in maintained her current state, but it was almost impossible to remove her from it without things quickly deteriorating. There were also a number of little problems that when added together would bring the project, not to mention any vitals they managed to wring out of Shepard, crashing down on their heads. These issues included irregularities in her liver, while her blood cells had somehow desiccated. Most of the capillaries in her circulatory system, particularly in her lungs and eyes, were simply shot and would take hours of delicate microsurgery to correct even if she was alive. Her biotic implant system would have to be completely removed, a delicate process considering that any electrical charge induced through the surgical implements could create unstable micro-mass effect fields. Such a thing would cause far more damage than anything else.

No, it was not looking like this would be a simple resuscitation.

Miranda looked around the table at the assembled doctors, professors and other leaders in their particular fields.
"Look Miranda, I'm not saying this is an impossible undertaking. What I'm saying, and half the people around this table are as well, is that what you are asking for is impossible," Wilson said gruffly. One look around the table confirmed his assertion. She glared at him silently to elaborate his meaning.

"Look, can we revive Shepard? Who knows at this point? This project is going to be as much trial as error, we knew that from the beginning. What I'm saying is that after three months of pouring over the models, equations and simulations, even you have to admit that if this is ever going to work, the original idea of pure biological resuscitation isn't going to cut it." He took a pause for a drink, letting his words sink in around the table. Even Miranda's glare faltered as she took in his meaning. She was simply not used to something she had undertaken going this badly.

"Alright, so the original idea is out. What is everyone thinking?"
"Look Doctor Lawson, you've assembled the finest minds that humanity can produce, and half of what you're asking for is barely theoretical," drawled one of the other scientists. "Hell, most of it was, and still is, science fiction, not fact. But if you want my opinion, we won't be able to revive and stabilise the subject without cybernetics. And I mean a lot. I've done some projections. At a bare minimum, we're looking at 15% of her total body function being wholly or partially controlled by cybernetic implants." There was a moment of silence around the table as everyone, even Miranda, paused to consider. Would the great Commander Shepard still be the same if she was cybernetically enhanced? But looking around the table, she could see that the prospect was exciting to some of them.

"It would certainly be easier to… upgrade Shepard's already excellent physical condition if we went down this road…"offered another scientist. There were similar murmurs around the table as Miranda began to consider that this would also be an excellent way to slip in a small control chip into Shepard's brain, to ensure her loyalty to Cerberus and the Illusive Man. A part of her mind was excited by the prospect, but another part was equally against it, and she couldn't quite make up her mind either way. She was brought back from her internal musings by a comment from the scientist who suggested upgrading Shepard.

"Say that again," Miranda said, her voice cutting through the other conversations. The scientist in question paled a little under Miranda's penetrating glare, but repeated her comment.
"I said that the question of using cybernetics is all rather academic at this point. We are all biologists, not roboticists. And this is an area of science where the fact simply hasn't caught up to the fiction." There was a long silence before someone else spoke. It was from the ancient, pale asian doctor at the end of the table, who in three months hadn't spoken aloud to a single soul attached to the Lazarus project. That he would do so now shocked the rest of them into silence.

"No, I rather think that it has," he said simply, in the whispered tones of one unused to speech.
"What are you talking about?" Wilson asked.
"There was a rumour that went around Noveria recently. A rumour that Frankenstein's creation was truly given life."
"That's impossible, we'd have heard about it. You can't hide something like that," Wilson retorted.
"Oh but you can," came the soft-spoken, yet firm rebuttal. "There are many ways to hide things right in front of the fools who cannot see. Shepard knew this lesson well."
"Wait, are you seriously saying that there is someone out there who already has done what we're trying to do!? Then why the hell isn't he here!?" one of the scientists shouted.
"Because it does not do well to play against God, when your only option is to turn to the Devil himself," the old man replied cryptically. He looked directly at Miranda as he said this, and she knew what he was trying to say, just to her. It was something she had considered several times since starting, even bringing it again to the Illusive Man, who had steadfastly refused her request. But maybe it was time to think outside the box.

"Alright everyone, call it a day. Think about how you can integrate cybernetics into your sections of the project and report back in 24 hours."
"What are you going to do then?" asked Wilson, snarling slightly at the thought of even more work.
"I'm going to make a call I should have made months ago." She looked past Wilson to the old man at the end of the table, who gave her the slightest of nods. Whether it was understanding, approval, or amusement at seeing her pick the path of her own destruction was impossible to say. Miranda waited until the rest of them had filed out, many of them already conferring with their colleagues, before heading to the communication suite.

She booted up the system and thought about ways to approach her target. She would never get anywhere by trying a direct approach, he was notorious for being uncommunicative and secretive. A brute force, or even a finessed slice into his security systems was also a likely dead end, since it was rumoured he'd even sent the fabled STG packing, not to mention numerous attempts by Cerberus' best men. She couldn't leave and make a physical appearance, at least not yet. Maybe in another week if she was desperate, she'd consider it. But right now, she had an idea.

She linked up a connection to a Cerberus cell on Noveria, one close to Port Hanshan. By itself, this wouldn't get her far, but she wasn't aiming to get in through the comm system nor slice his security. She was thinking about something far more elementary. She sliced past the laughable excuse for a firewall on the energy distribution venue, looked up the distribution maps and compared them to a physical map of the Skadi Mountains. Miranda then cross-referenced this with the known location of Peak 13 and allowed herself a small smirk when it all lined up perfectly. She was going to send pico-second fluctuations through the energy network. On its own, it would do nothing, and most systems wouldn't even pick it up. But if there was an active terminal in the facility, the fluctuations would be translated as a command code and it would open up a small backdoor communications hole that she could use. All she needed was to send the code, and come back in an hour to see if her hole had been created. She smirked again and stood up to get herself a drink and a shower while she waited.


An hour later, a refreshed Miranda walked back into the communication suite and sat down, opening her programs and seeing that it had indeed found an active terminal, and her communications backdoor was firmly established. She booted up the program, and saw a picture of a lab, a little small and a little untidy, fill her viewscreen. For a moment that was all there was, until something small and flesh-coloured skittered into view in the bottom corner before rushing off with the sound of rustling paper. A moment later, her screen was filled with the pasty white visage of Fester Addams.

"Hey, good catch there Thing," he said to someone offscreen. He turned back to look at Miranda, his eyes almost immediately drawn down to her breasts. Men, always the same with them, Miranda thought. What she didn't know was that it wasn't her breasts he was looking at, but the distinctive nested hexagons of the Cerberus logo on her bodysuit. He raised an eyebrow, and began to run a few silent programs on his terminal.

Despite himself, he was impressed. The last Cerberus goons who'd tried to access his systems had been ham-handed, amateurish and far too full of themselves. As the programs displayed their various outputs next to the communications window, he found himself impressed at both her method of entry and her boldness. This one's not bad, maybe I might even talk to her, he thought. But first, a little fun! He rapidly typed into the holographic keyboard, releasing some of the more interesting programs to follow back through the path she had created.

"I wouldn't bother trying to trace this connection," Miranda said simply. "I'm not a spy, well, not in the traditional sense anyway. I've gone to a lot of effort to contact you Mister Addams, so I'd appreciate it if I had your full attention." He looked up at her face on the screen, Miranda assuming he had given up trying to trace her and resigning himself to the call. The truth was he was finished releasing his little toys, who were already beginning to seriously screw with the Cerberus cell on Noveria by flooding their systems with explicit hanar-on-elcor porn and inane Harry Potter fanfiction from two centuries ago, while deleting anything and everything of value.
"I can see that. So, to what do I have the honour of Cerberus calling me today?" Miranda frowned slightly, and Fester looked pointedly downwards again. Miranda followed his eyes to the Cerberus logo on her breast and grimaced. This was going to be a lot harder if he knew who she was working for.

"I'll admit to being impressed by your methods, whoever you are, so I'm going to do something I don't often do. I'm going to give you 60 seconds to convince me that this isn't a waste of my time. If you can manage that, then I won't show you just how far you have overstepped the bounds of my patience." Miranda's face turned ugly for a second, this wasn't at all how she had planned it. Now she was on the defensive rather than the offensive, coming from a position of weakness rather than strength.

"Very well then, I'll cut to the chase. I'm working on a project to bring someone back to life. Unfortunately, we can't do it by normal means, we need to use cybernetics, a bio-synthetic fusion if you will. And quite frankly, we're seriously out of our depth here. But you aren't, are you?"
"Oh?" he asked, eyebrow raising.
"Don't play coy with me. I know that six months ago, Wednesday Shepard visited your lab and walked away with Lurch. There are no records of Lurch ever existing before he joined with Wednesday, and you've never had an assistant or bodyguard before then. The only thing before that is a lot of shipments of cybernetic raw materials and corpses. I can put two and two together Mister Addams. I know Lurch was a dead man before you woke him up. All I'm asking is that you do it again."
"Look, even if your story is true, why the hell would I?" Fester asked incredulously. "What could you possibly offer or threaten me with? You're working off speculation and hearsay, none of which holds much water. And in case you or your boss has forgotten, I have more wealth than several planets. All I'd need to do is dump it in the Shadow Broker's lap and I'd have enough information to bury you and your organisation. So again, what do you think you have that could possibly motivate me. Oh, and by my estimation, you have enough time left for one, maybe two words."His hands returned to the keyboard and his face dared her to say something, anything to provoke him unleashing some of the more deadly programs he'd kept in reserve.
"It's Wednesday," Miranda blurted out, wincing at being cowed by his threats. There was a pause as Miranda's words registered in Fester's mind.

"What did you say?" he asked slowly.
"Wednesday Shepard. That's who we're trying to bring back."
"Talk. Now."
"Look, you've met her. You saw what happened at the Citadel with Sovereign. Shepard knew there are more of them, and they won't stop until we're all dead. Who knows what else she got from the beacon? She is the best hope the galaxy has if we want to fight and live against an enemy we are in no way ready for."
"Keep talking," he said, fingers moving not to unleash the cybernetic equivalent of the Black Death on Cerberus, but to slice into Miranda's systems and get every scrap of information she had on his niece. If what she was saying was true, if Cerberus really did have Wednesday and was trying to bring her back to life, then it was something he needed to do. Addams may be cold, uncaring and ruthless to the rest of the galaxy, but at the end of the day, family was all they had.

Alarms sprang up on Miranda's terminal and her omni-tool as Fester's programs quickly traced back along Miranda's path and began searching and copying all their files on the Lazarus project. She tried vainly to stop it, but all her efforts were for naught as all of her secrets were laid bare beneath his questing digital fingers. As all the files came up on his end of the connection, he opened up one picture. Wednesday, still in her armour, held in a stasis field. He noted quietly the missing QEC from her omni-tool and knew that Liara had been involved somehow. He looked over the figures of her condition and the models they tried to restore her life simply through biological means, and the new files on speculations of cybernetic regulation and enhancement. He smiled wryly, they may have been scrabbling in the dark, but they were certainly going in the right direction, by and large. But he could see even now several key flaws in their surmises that would need his unique experience with Lurch to overcome.

"Very well Miss Lawson," he said, using her name in a condescending manner even though she'd never given it. "Consider yourself one specialist heavier. I'll be there in a week. Now, I suggest you use that time to try and explain to your boss. I doubt he'll be pleased."
"Not pleased with what, exactly?" Miranda asked. This, as it turned out, was exactly the wrong question, as her terminal and omni-tool were overloaded with batarian-on-vorcha porn.


SIX MONTHS LATER

"Are you sure?" Miranda asked one last time. Fester was leaving today, saying at the last senior meeting that Wednesday was progressed far enough along and that the scientists now had a firm understanding of what was required. It had been touch and go at the start. Most of the scientists had either fawned over him like some sort of idol, or shunned him like a heathen. Both camps had their asses handed to them in short order as Fester dressed them down and showed them all just why he was one of humanity's brightest stars. Within a month, he'd completely re-vamped their projections to the point where they could start the process of reviving Shepard. Fester was always on hand, hardly sleeping as the first week was practically non-stop surgery, cybernetic calibration, implantation and augmentation. After that first hurdle, everything began to fall into place. Her heart started pumping without constant stimulation, blood getting everywhere it was needed. Cellular respiration was a little shaky at first, but it had improved dramatically in a short period. Her liver and immune system stopped fighting against the cybernetic parts as the calibrations were fine-tuned. Even the upgrade to the new Ln5 series biotic implant seemed to be going well so far. A risky business as no-one had ever attempted to replace a biotic implant on a live human before, let alone a dead one.

Miranda had tried to get in her control chip, but Fester had caught her. His look as he grabbed her wrist in a firm but insistent manner was disturbing, but his face would haunt her for years. It wasn't a face of rage or disbelief, it was a softer look. It was a look that spoke volumes of eons of human evolution, from simpler primates who knew the difference between the brutish predators, the ones that made no effort to hide their nature, and the stalking predators. The ones that could hide, could be patient, could wait until their prey was so close they could taste it before the fatal trap was sprung. It was a look that said that Miranda was such prey now, and her actions would set off a predator that was no less deadly simply because it wore a human skin. That was the last time she had tried to get something past him. The one time she did try to stop him adding something he hadn't discussed, she'd gotten a similar look. She couldn't work out why he seemed so intense about Wednesday, or why that particular thing had been so important. She'd fished out the syringe later to discover it was some kind of gene mod, but the function seemed redundant, just some auditory changes. It was a puzzle.

"I'm sure," Fester replied. "Wednesday still has a long road ahead of her, but I'm confident that I'm not needed here anymore. Besides, I've got other things I need to do, and I'm certain the STG are going crazy trying to figure out why my lab has been so quiet. Not that they'd ever get in, but the lack of activity must be driving them up the walls!" He allowed himself a little chuckle, before turning to Miranda one last time. "I've left two things for Wednesday near her lab. I'm only going to warn you once, do not try to remove them. Wednesday is the only one who can open them, though feel free to try and crack them. I'll enjoy every moment of watching you trying." Miranda didn't even try to ask how he would watch. The old man had proven countless times since he'd arrived that he was far more intelligent than anyone would ever suspect. As his beat-up old freighter finally left, she walked back to the lab, pondering the two cases he had left for Shepard.

They were easy enough to spot; they were plastered with AddamsTech Genetics all over. There were two cases like he said, but wildly disparate in size. The biggest one was over two metres tall, and had an independent power supply that gave out a gentle hum. It was cold to the touch, and Miranda could see the condensation forming on it. The second case was on a nearby bench. It was small, only about the size of a pistol locker, but it didn't look heavy. It was actually quite light as she found by pushing it gently to the side, but Miranda didn't feel like trying to remove it from the bench in case it was booby-trapped. She couldn't see any physical lock, though there was something that looked like a glass plate and what could possibly be a microphone, or just air holes. Whatever it was, it was steadfastly refusing to allow her access to whatever was inside.

Miranda was patient though. There was still almost a year to go, if Fester Addams' projections and her own were correct. Plenty of time to try and figure a way past the locks on the cases and try and figure out exactly what Fester was trying to give to Wednesday when she woke up.

She never suspected that when Wednesday did wake up, one of those items would be Miranda's salvation, and one would be her damnation.


A/N: And so we come to it at last, the end of this little Interlude.

As a great author once had a wizard say: "the board is set, the pieces are moving." All the characters from Classified Memories have been set along the paths that will eventually lead them to where they will be in a year's time, when Prized Collection will begin.

And no, unless you bribe me heavily, I will not be revealing any more juicy little tidbits than I already have.