Chapter 9: People Person
Doctor Chakwas and her handpicked team stood around the sterilized quarter of the medbay in silence. The tension was palpable as they waited, not knowing what they would face. The com was live as Shepard frantically tried to appraise Archangel's injuries, but her voice rolled over them. She was doing her best, but with no training... still, Chakwas was sure it made Shepard feel better, so she let the drumroll commentary carry on without interruption. Soldiers always felt the need to do something, and she'd long since learned to give them whatever she could.
The whole ship seemed to tense up, as everyone waited...
Waited...
The cockpit exploded into sound loud enough to be heard through the thick bulkhead one floor below, and they knew the crew had returned. Moments later and the turian was run in on a gurney surrounded by Shepard, Miranda, Jacob, and what seemed like half the ship all crowding around two of her doctors who'd met them at the airlock. Each member of the ground team sported their own injuries, and Shepard was beaten badly enough to bleed straight through her combat armor, but it all paled in comparison to the turian.
Chakwas cataloged his injuries, already oblivious to Jacob herding out the rest of the crew and Miranda and Shepard stepping back out of the way.
He groaned, twitching as blue blood dribbled from his mouth and through the holes in his combat armor where the medigel hadn't finished its work yet. A coughing fit shook him weakly as blood clogged up his throat.
He couldn't be alive with injuries like this! And yet he was... for the moment. The lab assistant robotic arms labored frantically, relying half on the scanty information in their databanks and half from on-the-spot observations. Blue blood pumped into him, racing to keep up his blood pressure. Once they'd done what they could most of the robotic limbs retracted and the human teams stepped in.
They peeled his armor off as quickly as they could, cutting it off where it had fused with his body. Chackwas glanced up at the turian cross-section projected on the ceiling above her, desperately trying to get her bearings as they opened him up.
The turian was covered in a metallic exoskeleton of sorts, an evolutionary answer to the weak magnetic field of Palaven, the turian home world, which left native species more exposed to radiation from the system's sun. It protected Archangel, but also made getting access to the delicate skin beneath more difficult. And, rumors to the contrary, that metallic sheathe was no protection from bullets... or missiles.
The damage was staggering. The sheer power of the heavy machine guns had driven the slugs straight through him, combat armor and all, walking a path up his body from left waist to right shoulder, perforating one of his lungs and several arteries she hadn't managed to identify yet. Even as she watched EDI was identifying and projecting labels onto him.
And on top of all that catastrophic damage, a missile had detonated just outside of the collar of his heavy armor, shearing straight through it and tearing a gaping hole through his left mandible and and into the more delicate skin and skull beneath. If he'd been a human it would have gone straight through his skull and back out the other side. Even as it was, the mandible was flopping on a string of skin, and it was yet to be determined if they could save the perforated lung.
Garrus moaned more loudly, and his legs kicked feebly, taloned feet tearing at the clothes of the med team. The medtech arms clamped down on his open and shattered torso to keep him from moving, which only seemed to increase his flailing. His back arched, unconsciously fighting the restraints, and his eyes popped open, though he was so filled with pain-killers it was doubtful he could think rationally at all.
For a fleeting moment she wished they had thought to stock turian anesthetics before she rejected the thought. He was too close to the edge – knocking him out would be just as likely to kill him as spare him pain.
Garrus' arms started to grope, quickly gaining strength, and he lashed out compulsively. Suarez, the nearest doctor, had been looking up at the projection and missed Archangel's swing, which smashed into his chest and dropped him to the floor gasping for air. The rest of the med team leaped back in fear. They could only watch from a distance as his heart rate spiked and vital signs dipped lower as blood poured out of him, pumped faster through his body as he thrashed.
In a moment inspiration struck, and Chakwas turned to look at Shepard who was busy looking haunted and powerless against the wall. "Shepard, give me his gun!"
Shepard gave her a look that clearly questioned her sanity, but handed over the (safely unloaded) monster weapon.
Chakwas danced in towards Garrus holding out the heavy rifle as far as she could until his taloned fingers encountered it. He pulled with surprising strength, snatching the weapon out of her grasp. As soon as he had it he slumped back down, docile once again. The team gazed at each other in stunned silence for an endless moment, and dashed back into the fray.
Well, I can at least tell you what happened to her eyes." It was hours later, and they'd finally come out of surgery. Dr. Chakwas sat, eyes bleary with exhaustion, with Miranda at her little desk in the Medical Bay. Both of them watched the still forms of Commander Shepard and Garrus on adjoining hospital beds. It wasn't until the team had moved on to Archangel's face and mandible that she'd actually been able to recognize him, but the shock had only slowed her for a moment.
"As you yourself informed me, her injuries when you acquired her were severe, and most of her exposed tissue was destroyed, including her eyes and the more delicate parts of her ears. They were replaced by synthetics which you set to mimic standard human eyesight and hearing. However, when I examined her after stabilizing Mr. Vakarian, her pupils were still dilated 50% larger than a normal person's are for the lighting here on the Normandy, and she was reacting to sounds softer than the human ear should be able to hear. Both were slowly returning to normal, however, and are currently back at standard levels. Though without additional evidence I can't prove it, I'm almost positive that the Commander somehow managed to change the settings on her eyes, dilating them farther than any normal human and giving her ears more sensitivity than any normal human. I doubt she did it on purpose, however."
"That's clear, Doctor, but how did she do it? I know Shepard's capabilities literally inside and out, and nothing I know about her could have predicted this."
Chakwas smiled tiredly.
"Perhaps you underestimated the enormity of being brought back from the dead. That's never happened before." She sighed and turned to look straight into Miranda's eyes, willing her to see. "Executive Lawson, for the Commander what you did was no normal surgery. When she woke up, those were her eyes, her ears. It is doubtful she can even recall what it was like beforehand. Perhaps to her, she is simply adjusting her eyes as unconsciously as you or I focus ours."
"Perhaps." Miranda stared off into space for a moment, lost in her thoughts, before abruptly turning away and heading for the door. "Thank you for your time, Dr. Chakwas," she called over her shoulder.
The power flickered on and off fitfully for a few moments before giving out all together. She knew then, right at that moment, that this was big. A full-scale invasion at best, a planetary bombardment at worst. It was funny, really, the little things you kept on noticing when something so big you can't quite grasp it is happening. She could feel every little patch of condensation she hadn't quite reached with her towel. She felt a droplet slide down her neck from her still-damp hair. She noticed with a mild sense of irritation that seemed somehow outside her, exterior, that the air-conditioning had died again, before it hit her that it was because of the power loss. Somehow, that little penetration into her own world made it all real.
The air was dead, the fridge was dead, the complimentary computer console was dead. Everything with a battery would last until it died, then there'd be no recharging. Her omnitool had about an hour's charge left, then she'd have no communication.
Her thoughts started to run their course while she dragged on her uniform, like a computer on start up, they began slowly but quickly picked up speed. The training was kicking in.
She pulled her bag over her shoulder and dashed outside, even as she frantically tried to hail the Alliance base. She was getting nothing but static, which meant at least moderate jamming. A very bad sign. She dashed into the street and saw people everywhere, all watching the sky. She followed their gaze upwards and saw what had captured their attention... an entire fleet of small assault craft was heading down through the upper atmosphere, their prows incandescent from re-entry. Far above the assault shuttles a battle raged furiously in near space, extending even down into upper atmosphere. Lights flashed quickly, and the little sparks like fireworks were the deaths of thousands of crew. It was too far away to figure out which side was which. It all would have been beautiful, if she hadn't had a sinking feeling about the purpose of those assault craft headed not towards the spaceport, but towards the city.
"Everyone get inside. Now!"
That certainly got the crowds attention. "You have to get inside immediately, you're in terrible danger, please, move into this hotel now!"
The crowd, a mixture of aliens from across the galaxy dominated by humans, was slow to respond. Some seemed outright incredulous, others started to panic. In retrospect, maybe not the best thing she could have said. No time to fix it now.
Shepard dashed about, all but pushing people back towards their houses and hotel lobbies. They obeyed, but they all wanted to lean back, to catch another glimpse of the light show above.
"Hurry hurry hurry, into my hotel, hurry hurry..." She finished urging an asari inside who looked affronted at her lack of respect when the ships became close enough to make out. Nothing larger than frigates, and thankfully only a bare handful of those, but they disgorged a flood of assault shuttles which charged downwards with reckless speed. The ground seemed to heave as the defense towers fired, sending people stumbling or outright falling to the ground. Shepard tripped over the prone form of another human and went down hard.
Three of the assault boats took direct hits and exploded spectacularly, but the towers were relics of the colony's early days before the more effective fixed defenses in space went live and there weren't enough of them to stop this mad charge.
Shepard made a run back towards the hotel, ears ringing, as the crowds finally reacted. A primal cry, a mix of horror and shock, seemed to slowly rev up as they finally grasped their danger and started to stampede in all directions. The assault boats finally got into range, and the world trembled as they opened up. There was no subtlety to their tactics, and they let loose their cluster-bombs on the defense towers, heedless of anything built up nearby.
By the time Shepard had regained her feet enough dust was thrown up into the air from the impact that it was hard to see, and it clung to her uniform and hair. Her thinking was strangely, icily clear despite the chaos around her. They wouldn't go after the obviously civilian targets unless they wanted to kill everyone, in which case they were already dead anyways, so their best shot was to hole up in the hotel.
At last she made it and turned, surprised to see a sizeable crowd of people had followed her lead. She ushered them in as quickly as she could, keeping an eye to the sky even as she did. The lead frigate, of batarian design, changed its trajectory slightly and lined up on the spaceport.
"Get down!"
The front end of the frigate seemed to catch fire as it let fly a volley of energy torpedos. The shockwave from the explosion was actually visible, giving Shepard a half-second warning before it hit. Even lying on the floor the shockwave was intense. The ground bucked up beneath her, launching her into the air before slamming her back down. Her face hit hard.
Shepard bit off a curse and immediately turned to check on the civilians. There were a good forty-odd sentients there, and most seemed to have hit the deck in time to avoid serious injury. She felt something hot run down her face. With a sigh of frustration she smeared it away before it could get into her eyes.
The broad front windows were a shattered ruin, leaving shards of glass everywhere. Shepard kept a steadying hand on the wall and peaked out into the outside world.
It had changed.
A massive pillar of smoke and fire was all that could be seen of the spaceport, and all that remained of her armor and weapons. The defense towers, too, were gone, as well as everything within a block radius of them. The blasts had sent up enough dust and smoke that the day seemed darker than it should have been. She brought her arm across her mouth in a vain effort to keep from coughing. Still, for all the devastation it was oddly quiet. It took a moment to catch why.
Through the filthy air it was difficult to catch, but the assault shuttles were dropping to the ground all over the city, disgorging knots of heavily armed troops of some kind. What was odd about it, however, was that the shuttles weren't standardized – half of them seemed to be their own unique model, while the rest represented species from across the galaxy. Not a good sign. If they weren't real military, and there were no military targets aside from the base, what were they still doing here? They hadn't just blasted the city into glass, which mean they wanted something... Oh. They wanted the only thing left.
They were slavers.
As if in answer to her thoughts, screams started to erupt across the city as the slavers went about their business. Shepard turned back to the people inside the lobby, who were visibly shaken by the trauma of the last few minutes. Had it only been minutes? Time to get this lot into gear, give them something to do...
She slid back towards them.
"Alright, who here as any military or police training?" Three hands went up across the room, two asari and a salarian. "Alright, I want you three on watch near the windows, but stay as out of sight as you can. The minute you see something you drop back and let me know through my com. There's jamming, but at this close of range it shouldn't make any difference. You still have your omnitools?" It turned one of the asari did not, and the salarian's seemed to be broken. She turned to the asari's who's still worked.
"Alright, match your com frequency to mine. What's you're name?"
"Elenia." Her voice came out strong, unwavering.
"Ok Elenia, I'm Lieutenant Shepard. Were you with a mercenary outfit?"
"No, I worked with C-Sec before retiring thirty years ago."
"Ok, for now, you're in charge of these civilians, and these two are your assistants. Get them as far inside and under cover as you can, and I'll be in contact with you as best I can."
"Wait, you're not seriously going out there are you?"
Shepard shrugged. "We need to get into contact with somebody else. It's only a matter of time until they find us here."
The salarian broke in. "No weapons, no armor, hopeless against mercenaries..."
"I'll make do, now get to work. See if anyone has any medical training and have them deal with those in shock or cut up from the explosions. Just try and keep them calm!"
Even as she finished speaking Shepard was moving back out into the smoky light. The other three returned deeper into the building and at last she could focus completely on the scene around her.
It was darker than it should be, and the sounds of distant explosions made it clear the light wouldn't be getting better any time soon. First, however, she needed a weapon. What the salarian had said was true, if this had been an open fight. But this was far from that... this was a fight she knew. This was a gang fight.
Shepard snapped awake from her dream, her entire body clenched up in combat readiness, and had her pistol drawn and aimed in an instant. There was nothing to see.
She shuddered, lowering the pistol as her body slowly unknotted itself. She was here. She was now... Elysium was long gone, long past. Her right shoulder spasmed again at the thought. Huh. I guess I really am still me, still Shepard. She threw the thought away and climbed out of bed. The covers were on the floor, the sheets a snarled knot. She couldn't recall getting into her t-shirt and running shorts, or even back to her room, but that seemed to be par for the course these days. It was still an hour before the scheduled start of her day, but she wanted to stay as far from Elysium as she could. Besides, five hours was more than enough sleep. What she needed now was someone to distract her from the images still fighting to play out before her eyes. Images and memories she'd thought she'd left behind long ago.
Wandering around the crew deck looking for someone to talk to because she had nightmares was too pathetic for a leader, and way too much information for anyone else anyways. And Garrus would still be out, completely isolated for the time being. He was stable though, that was something. Hmmmm. She could go to CIC without too many comments. Miranda was still on duty as XO, and Joker might be there too. It would have to do.
There were only a few people on duty in the CIC, the pale glow of their monitors providing most of the illumination as the running lights were off during the ships "night" cycle. As expected, Miranda was on station overlooking the deck while running through something on her omnitool. Probably reports, if first impressions of Miranda proved true.
Shepard moved quietly, but CIC was still enough to hear the distant thrum of the drive core, not to mention the soft patter of her bare feet on the deck. Shepard struck first to try to stave off any comments on her irregular attire and frazzled hair. Did Miranda ever not look perfectly put together?
"Anything I should know about the Normandy?" Not the most creative, but it sounded official enough.
Miranda only paused a half beat before responding with her usual business-like attitude. "The crew's working well, and the ship appears to be performing to specifications." She was quick, but she also wasn't really giving Shepard anything to work with. The equivalent of a polite "get-to-the-point."
This again. Great. Well, why not? Maybe she'd be more forthcoming.
"What exactly are your duties here, aside from keeping an eye on me?"
"I'm the Illusive Man's agent. You're his most important asset. My job is to make sure you succeed." Tight and clipped, only stating the obvious.
Shepard fought the urge to roll her eyes. Thank you Miranda. At last, however, she started to crack a little bit. Maybe it was the big puffy bags under Shepard's eyes that convinced her Shepard wasn't there to catch her in a mistake.
"...Aside from that... I send regular reports to the Illusive Man, updating our status."
In spite of Shepard's shaken mental state she couldn't help but smile just a bit. Uh oh, the Ice Queen has a gap in her defenses. Time to press the advantage...
"Look Miranda, can't we just talk for a bit?"
She relented with a soft sigh. "Alright. I imagine you've got a lot of questions." She didn't quite return the smile, but it was a start. "Cerberus isn't as evil as most people think, and it's important that you, more than most, understand that."
"I know what we're doing here, but what's Cerberus' long-term goal? What's your end goal?"
Miranda seemed a little surprised she didn't know. "The advancement of the human race, nothing more, nothing less. The salarians have the Special Tasks Group. The asari have their commandos. Cerberus is our answer to those organizations."
Shepard squinted an eye at her. "That's what you say in your recruitment posters, I'm sure, but I'm not asking that. If the Illusive Man is really running the show, what does he want to see happen?"
Miranda looked a little more hesitant now. "Well... to catch up with the others. We need somebody who can fight on even terms with the best out there. Surely you don't disagree?"
"I'm not saying I disagree, but the real question is if the Illusive Man's looking for parity with everyone else or if he's looking to dominate them, to have them at our mercy."
Miranda arched a single delicate eyebrow. "I'm not following Shepard. In practical terms it doesn't matter. They're all looking for every advantage they can get. The only way to play on even terms is to do the same thing, so in the end it's a matter of semantics."
"No, Miranda, it's not."
She bristled, obviously unused to being told flat-out she was wrong, but Shepard plowed on before she could cut in.
"Your motivations do a lot to change the way you approach problems. If your goal is just to win, the answer is to cheat every time, to take advantage of people every time it's convenient, to give in to short-term convenience. Tell me that doesn't sound like some of the little experiments of yours I've stumbled across."
She folded her arms and gave Miranda a glare for good measure.
True, Shepard, but look at it this way. The STG and the asari are backed by representative governments that have a regular turnover. They have as much pressure on them to push the borders of what's acceptable as we do. In fact, they have more pressure on them, because we're privately funded. If we stray from our stated goals we'll lose our funding. So in a sense, we answer to all of humanity where they answer to their powerbase."
Yeah, a very loose sense...
As much as Shepard wanted to disagree, it was already clear they were starting to argue in circles. Time to set it aside, at least for the moment.
"Well if we're going to be blindly following his lead, then what can you tell me about the Illusive Man?"
Miranda shrugged, letting Shepard's needling pass. "Not much that you don't already know. It's rare for him to become directly involved in missions, but you're something special. But, whatever else people might say about him, I can assure you he's got humanity's best interests at heart. That includes you and me."
But not necessarily anybody else? That explained a lot, really. Make your followers feel like they're the only non-expendable people when everything and everyone else was, and you'd get a lot of loyalty quickly. Only, that usually happened right before you betrayed and killed everybody involved. She was bright, though, right? I mean, she brought somebody back from the dead, she had to see through that... or did she?
"How can you be sure of that, if you know so little about him?"
She bristled a bit at that one, probably thinking Shepard was questioning her judgment. "I didn't get to where I am without knowing how to gauge people's motives and ambitions. Even from brief encounters. He's no saint, and he'll be the first to admit it, but he is committed. Humanity couldn't have a better advocate."
Uh huh. The long hand equivalent of "trust me." Another dead end, and the conversation wouldn't last much longer going as it was. Change of tactics.
"Well, you're here and he's not. So, if you don't mind, tell me a little about yourself Miranda." To her credit, she didn't bat an eye at the abrupt change of topics.
"I guess that's fair, I've spent the last two years learning everything there is to know about you." She looked down at the floor for a moment before continuing. "Well you should probably know that I've had extensive genetic modification. It's one of the reasons the Illusive Man handpicked me. I'm very good at just about anything I choose to do."
Now we're getting somewhere.
"Well, you certainly don't lack for confidence."
Miranda shrugged again, this time looking irritated. "It's just a fact, Shepard... My reflexes, my strength, even my looks - they're all designed to give me an edge. No point in hiding from it. It's the reason I'm trusted to oversee the most dangerous, risky, and technically demanding operations Cerberus undertakes. And it's why I was assigned to you. It's my job to make sure you succeed, Shepard."
Which, of course, was always harder than doing something yourself. It was like they were taunting her, really. Here, Shepard, here's the best of humanity, here is what Cerberus has produced. Just look at this stunning, talented, intelligent woman, with curves in all the right places, and perfectly styled black hair. She looked like one of those airbrushed girls on the vid commercials. In fact, she's you're XO, so you have to look at her every day. And, after seeing that, take a look in the mirror and tell us Cerberus isn't better.
Well, the mirror certainly didn't lie in that respect. She glanced at her reflection off the bulkhead and winced. Her athletic shorts and loose t-shirt were wrinkled from sleep, and her hair was a wreck. Half of it seemed to have escaped from her ponytail, now off balance. Deep, puffy bags under her eyes showed just how little sleep she had gotten.
She tried to keep the self-pity out of her voice. "Sounds like you were designed to be perfect."
Oddly, Miranda's eyes flashed in a hint of anger at that.
"I may have been designed to be perfect, Shepard, but I'm not. I make mistakes like everyone else, and when I do, the consequences are severe. Everyone expects a lot from someone with my... abilities."
She gave the smallest shake of her head, as if suddenly realizing she'd said more than she intended, and fell silent.
Shepard forgot her moping for a moment in thinking through Miranda's comment. Wait a minute, it's pretty impressive? What have we here?
She filed the thought away for later.
"Thanks for the talk Miranda. I'll see you later."
"Of course, Commander. Whatever you need." The words were polite, but her thoughts were obviously elsewhere.
Time to escape, but after finally getting Miranda to relax a bit she didn't want to make it look like she really had come down here just to talk to her. Who else was around?
Joker was, not unusually, still in the pilots seat well after shift's end. His relief pilot, Thierry, was used to it now, and usually hung out on the crew deck chatting it up with one of the Cerberus girls from plotting. Just another upside to being in the pilots seat; access to all those little cameras. Or at least most of them. He was pretty sure there were some he didn't have access to. It would be like Cerberus to-
The sound of approaching footsteps drew him out of his musings.
"Everything all right up here in the cockpit?"
The sound of her voice always made him wince a little, just a poignant little reminder of his own piloting imperfection. Damn it, couldn't he do just one thing right?
"Uh, yeah, we're all good up here Commander." He turned his chair around to face her and managed to restrain his surprise to a single raised eyebrow. Ok, maybe he looked her up and down once. In surprise, you know? "Do you normally wander around at all hours of the night asking crew-members how their days went? 'Cause I don't remember you ever doing it before."
She seemed to retreat, her eyes grew harder, and he berated himself for being an idiot. You're supposed to be making it up to her, not getting her even angrier at you! It's a miracle she's willing to talk to you at all!
"I mean, not that I mind it, having a superior officer looking over my shoulder all the time, it's just-"
"Carry on, Helmsman."
And she was gone.
…
Shit.
Shepard regretted stomping off about two seconds too late to go back. It was Joker, of course he'd make a joke out of it! There was no need to get so defensive! It was just that he saw through her so easily. It wasn't like she normally wandered around in her pajamas looking like death warmed over, but she'd lasted two sentences before he cut through her charade to ask about what was really bothering her. It was too close to home, too fast.
But that was just because she was a freak and didn't let anybody really talk to her.
What a jerk. The only two friends she had in the galaxy and she'd let one get hit by a missile and stormed off on the other one, all within a single day. She was on better terms with the Illusive Man for crying out loud. She might as well just give it up now and go out to kill something. It seemed to be the only thing she was good at anymore.
She wandered back up to her cabin feeling even worse than before.
