The adjutant collapsed as the gas filled the containment unit. Miranda narrowed her eyes. At least nobody had gotten killed this time. It would be impolite to gloat, but considering her company… "I told you it wouldn't work."
Walker at least had the decency to look embarrassed. "The models were perfect. Sufficient doses of red sand should have rendered the adjutant's susceptible to our commands."
"Even batarians don't get high off red sand. Why should it do anything to an adjutant?"
"We do have precedent for red sand making subjects more susceptible to Reaper technology." He stroked his chin. "If we dosed a subject before conversion, then that might make them more susceptible to following our commands afterwards." His smile was large and a shade too ingratiating. "Building off your attempts to manipulate husk hormone levels."
Miranda bristled. "Spare me the flattery. And what happens when the red sand is metabolized? You'd need an alternate means of manipulating their biochemistry." The idea hit her like lightning and she shivered. "Nyarlathotep. " If she implanted them with a control chip before transformation, she would have complete control over their neural activity during and after the transition to the adjutant state. And if she could control them so absolutely, if the Reapers weren't allowed dominance for even a single moment, then she might be able to create the used shock troops.
All she had to do was follow neatly in her father's footsteps. "I'll consider it. For now just—"
Chambers cut in. "Dr. Abrams wants to talk to you again, Operative Lawson. He says it's urgent."
"Patch him through." Even the direst medical emergency was preferable to dealing with the control chip technology at the moment, and it would give her much needed time to think. That was Walker's problem: he seized on an idea with the tenacity of a dog with a bone and never used his considerable intellect to ponder the difficulties until it was too late.
Abrams face was ashen, and cold sweat formed on Miranda's palms. "A kid was shot in the Beta Sector. Peter Lindquist. His uncle's ranting and raving, asking for you. Says it's all your fault."
No. No. It couldn't be the same Peter. It was a coincidence, like Peter also being the name of her son. There were thousands of Peter's on Omega. "Is the uncle a woodcarver?" Abrams nodded. So much for hope. The floor seemed to shift under her and Miranda sank into the nearest chair. "How bad is it?"
"One of the bullets grazed the spinal column between the third and fourth vertebrae. I think I can repair the damage, but that's not the big problem. He lost a lot of blood. He's Oh, so…"
"… So you can't find a donor and you can't synthesize it, because no one actually knows how to synthesize Bombay blood." Her heart hammered. John had that blood type, and the inability to synthesize blood for him had initially created a significant hurdle for the Lazarus Project.
"I don't know how, no." He looked at her, pleading. "But you do, don't you? Cerberus, I mean. Mordin wrote to me sometimes about what he was doing. Nothing huge, but he mentioned Commander Shepard needing a blood transfusion after something. I looked up his medical records. Unless he's the luckiest man in the galaxy, you know how to synthesize that blood."
He was right, damn him. She and Wilson had spent three painstaking months developing the process. It wasn't black box technology like so many of John's implants. But the procedure had never been replicated as far as she knew. It had been complex and dependent on several classified Alliance and STG files Wilson had acquired for her. The Illusive Man had judged it too risky to pass along through one of Cerberus' legitimate biomedical companies. "I can't talk about anything classified that we may or may not have produced."
"That's the same thing as saying you have it. Would you just come down here and talk to the family? I'd rather not have to throw the boy's uncle out under the circumstances, but he's creating a public disturbance. Maybe you can calm him down."
"You're trying to manipulate me into synthesizing the blood, aren't you? Mordin would be proud of you. I'll be down there as soon as I can."
Walker watched her with a raised eyebrow. "The Illusive Man isn't going to be happy if you start spreading around classified tech."
"I'm not 'spreading it around'. But the boy may have been injured as retaliation for help his uncle gave us. The least I can do is go up there and let the uncle yell at me for a few minutes."
The Omega Clinic was less crowded than the last time she had been here. A turian with his arm in a sling, a batarian with a bandaged head. No one paid her any attention; they probably thought she was another patient. She went down the hall and to the left where Mordin had once kept his most serious cases. This room was a little smaller than most, with space for three beds instead of the usual five. But at the moment there was only one occupant.
Peter's dark hair was matted to his scalp, his eyes were closed, but the stiffness of the muscles in his face belied any suggestion of peaceful sleep. The heart monitor beeped frantically. Matt the Woodcarver sat in the room's only chair. His eyes were red from crying, and he looked as if he hadn't slept since Miranda had spoken with him. She couldn't take her eyes from him. Peter was just another broken and battered child. You went mad in her line of work if you obsessed every time you saw a child who had been hurt. But Matt… she knew that haunted and helpless look.
"You did this to him!" he rasped, as if he had shouted himself hoarse and could no longer manage anything above a whisper. "The turians came for him because I helped you. You promised he would be safe."
She hadn't promised that, exactly, but now wasn't the time for that. John would have been so much better at sympathy. "I'm sorry. I promise you we'll do everything we can to catch these monsters."
"I don't care about that. I just want Peter to wake up."
Of course he did. "Do you want them to kill more children? The turians will just keep coming for more and more people unless we stop them. If you can tell us anything—"
He laughed, but it was the raspy choking laugh of a man who had lost everything and had nothing else left but madness. "You want me to help you? This is your fault in the first place! Your adjutants killed my brother and his wife. The turians are only fighting because you're on this station in the first place. Say what you want about Aria, but I never had to worry about my family getting killed."
"Go home and get some rest," said Oleg from the door. He strode forward to stand beside Miranda. His gaze was intent on Matt. "You'll do yourself and your nephew harm if you continue like this. I promise we'll do everything we can to save the boy. He was injured because of Cerberus, and we will treat him as one of our own." His voice dropped to a whisper. "You've heard the rumors that we raised Commander Shepard from the dead? I assure you that those rumors are true."
"You did? You would do that for Peter?" Oleg didn't say anything, but hope blazed through Matt's eyes like a wildfire "You could make sure he lives through this."
"Yes, he could live through this," Miranda said slowly. Anything to calm the man down.
"Thank you!" He threw his arms around Miranda with enough force that she was nearly knocked off balance.
She disentangled herself with as much grace as she could muster. "But you need to go home and get some sleep like the general asks. We'll call you if there are any changes in his condition."
"I'll do my best." He left, and they were alone with Peter.
Oleg approached the bed slowly and took one of the boy's hands in his. Miranda didn't have to ask who he was thinking about. Strange how the loss of children threaded through their lives like a strand in a malignant tapestry. Ten years ago she had been in a hospital room, still exhausted and sore from giving birth as she watched her son fight for life in a Citadel NICU. There had been no turians to blame. Just an errant strand of DNA that had given her Peter a congenital heart defect. No one's fault, except maybe Henry's, for creating designer genes that threw off the results of the normal screenings.
"You know the Lazarus data was lost," she said at last. "If the boy dies, he stays dead."
"Everyone fights better when they have some hope, whether they be soldiers or grieving uncles. I suspect he'll turn up at the nearest outpost, ready to help however he can. Besides, I understand from Dr. Walker that we can save the boy."
"Technically, yes. But it would involve significant resources and turning over classified tech."
"How many resources?" He wasn't her lover now, or even the general of the occupying forces, but her long ago superior officer who wanted to know how long they could afford to hold out for reinforcements against the slavers who were firing on their ship.
"A few thousand credits, and I'd have to pull Barrington and some of the other staff off the project. The base compound is used when cloning limbs, so we'd be in trouble if any of our men needed amputation before Cerberus Command resupplied us. And there is the small problem that no one outside of Cerberus is supposed to know we have the technology. I don't think the Illusive Man would appreciate it."
"Centuries ago, an American philanthropist said that the law was made for man and not man for the law. I believe the Illusive Man would understand." But Oleg's voice was a bit too honeyed. Even he doubted. It was one boy. One boy out of millions of boys that died every day and that they did nothing about. On paper, it made infinitely more sense to simply let Peter die and apologize to his uncle.
"Do you think we can spare it?"
"It's the old ethics problem. Do you allow the certain, small calamity to prevent the uncertain but infinitely larger one? I would like to save the boy. Here is a human actually in distress. We are tasked with helping humans."
"And because it's a chance Nikolai never had." Or my Peter either. She looked at Matt. I know what you're thinking now. You would let the galaxy burn if only he would live. She swallowed. If it were Oriana or Oleg in that bed, I'd find a loophole. What happened to one law for everyone?
He bowed his head. "Yes," he whispered.
She looked at Peter. He looked so terribly small in the bed. If he were fortunate he might survive another day or two. At worst he would be dead by morning. And Matt would have that malignant thread running through his life just as she and Oleg did. Damn it. "Dr. Abrams already suspects we can do it. If we keep him and the uncle in the dark about how it works, then we aren't divulging any secrets. It'll just be a miracle cure. Cerberus saving the innocent human child after turians attempted to murder him. It could be invaluable for propaganda purposes."
"A variation on the hearts and minds strategy. Yes, that would work. Now all we need is a puppy." He squeezed Peter's hand. "You'll make it young man. The finest doctor in the galaxy is taking your case."
Dr. Abrams grinned as if he had won the lottery. "The kid's been in and out of it, but his vitals are strong. He'll live. Though I don't appreciate your team throwing me out of my own clinic."
Miranda suppressed a smile of her own. "It was necessary to preserve operational security. May I see the boy?"
"Petrovsky's in with him and his uncle now. Tell him not to stay too long. The kid still has a long way to go." He shook her free hand, "Thank you."
The color had come back to Peter's cheeks, and he was surrounded by pillows, looking rather like an island of flesh in a sea of marshmallows. His eyes were clouded with painkillers, but his eyes were open. His uncle knelt at his bedside, tears streaming down his face. Oleg stood at parade rest on the other side. And a camera drone hovered inconspicuously nearby, ready to broadcast the heartwarming scene to the rest of the station.
Matt looked up at her. "Thank you. If there's anything Peter or I can do for you, just say the word."
"Just seeing that the boy gets the rest he needs." Oleg looked at the camera drone. "And remember that it was Cerberus that saved your nephew and those terrorists who almost killed him. Today was a miracle of science, but the next victim may not be so fortunate. Any assistance you can offer would be greatly appreciated." He put a hand on Peter's shoulder. "If there's anything you or the boy need, let me know."
"There is something I'd like, sir," Peter whispered. "I saw the chess set Uncle Matt carved for you. He said all the black pieces were controlled by a computer. Can I see? If it's not too much trouble."
"You like chess?"
"I like the knights. They jump."
Oleg stilled and swallowed. "They jump," he whispered. "I have tomorrow free. Would you like me to come and play a game with you?"
The next few minutes passed in the usual round of self-congratulatory platitudes that Miranda barely heard. Her eyes were on Oleg and the slight sheen in his eyes. Cerberus defended humanity against the large threats of slavers and Reapers, but perhaps they should make more room for these moments of small grace. Perhaps this was the key to avoiding future Teltins or Overlords: to force the staff to see not only humanity but individual humans. If by some chance, they managed to survive this war, it would be projects like this one humanity would need. Medical care and infrastructure, given to as many as they could. Political maneuvering would always be necessary, but it would be played out against the backdrop of a galaxy desperately trying to heal from the wounds of war.
Oleg exhaled once they were outside. "I wish there had been Cerberus thirty years ago."
"We're here now." And we always will be. "You know, I think I might actually have to steal a biomedical firm once this war is over. See if I can improve our trickle-down from the labs to the street."
"Fewer dead children," he said wistfully. "I'm sure the Illusive Man would approve. Saving lives is what Cerberus is for, after all." He put an arm around her. "It's Tuesday. Can I borrow your office so I won't freeze to death before my match?"
"Of course." She dropped a kiss on his ear. "But I can think of a few other ways to keep you warm."
Every screen in the base was tuned into the Cerberus broadcast. It was good propaganda, Nyreen had to admit. The humans on the station would be willing to overlook the new sanctions to help the noble saviors of one of their own. It was who - or what - had landed the child in the hospital in the first place that worried Nyreen.
"Do you think it's true?" Sidonis asked quietly. "Do you think Grizz had that kid shot?"
"I do." Petrovsky's words echoed in her head. Seven murders, now nearly eight. They had gotten access to the OSDs they were looking for in the raid. It would have been impossible to get them without the panic Grizz and his men created. They would be able to create viruses capable of infiltrating the Cerberus network. All it took was a few human lives. Just like keeping order for Aria had taken a few lives.
Sidonis shifted from foot to foot. He'd always been nervous ever since he had shown up at her door the day after she had started organizing the Talons. As if everywhere he spoke had the potential to cause disaster. "You have something you want to say?"
"I… I joined the Talons because I wanted to do some good. Make up for some big mistakes. Grizz is exactly the kind of guy I used to want to kill. It feels wrong to be working with someone like him." He cleared his throat. "The gang I was in before…we wanted to clean up the streets as much as we could. And we made a little money doing it. Before we knew it, we were fighting over credits and letting people get beaten so we could take the jobs with the biggest hauls. Our leader was so focused on taking down the gangs, that he didn't notice we were getting greedy. I don't want the Talons to lose their way like we did."
Two and two made four. "I won't end up like Archangel." She had almost lost herself to Aria, but Aria had been beautiful the way lightning was beautiful. Grizz was a petty thug. She was supposed to protect Omega's civilians—all of them. "Is it true that Archangel was lured into a trap? Something about a fake job?"
"Yes," Sidonis said in a small voice.
Wheels turned. Some would call what she was thinking dishonorable. Aria would call it stupid. But sometimes it mattered not that you won, but how. She would drive Cerberus from the station, but she would do it without aiding and abetting murder. "I want you to set up a meeting with Grizz while I test these viruses. We're going to get my captured men back."
"What are you going to do?"
"Repeat history." And finally wash her conscience clean. "And take Omega back—the right way."
The Illusive Man swirled his shot glass. "I understand you managed to save the victim of a turian reprisal. The son of one of your informants, I believe?"
"Yes sir. I believe it will improve popular opinion of us overall and deny the Talons potential recruits. Which lets us work in relative safety."
"Hmm. And does this increased security require sharing unauthorized technology."
Miranda stiffened and gripped her cane. "In this case? Yes. This security risks were minimal. It would be impossible for Dr. Abrams to replicate our work or to provide any evidence linking us to the stolen data."
He took a short puff on his cigarette. "You're interpretation of our security protocols is growing increasingly liberal. We can't afford any leaks, not with the Reapers so close. I worry about you, Miranda. Your view grows narrower with each passing day. I appreciate your long and storied service to this organization, but we can't afford to be sentimental. Your special requirements are a significant drain on our resources. If I don't see results soon, you'll have to see to them yourself." He pressed a button, and Miranda was alone.
Miranda shivered. His words might have seemed vague and noncommittal to an outsider but she knew what he meant. Control the adjutants or he would withdraw his protection of Oriana. Like everyone else, she was a cog in the machine, a means for the Illusive Man to further his plans for human dominance. Any affection—if there had ever been any affection—was secondary to the cause. And he was still the only one who could protect Oriana. Damn it!
"We got the bastard!" Matthews whooped as he rushed through the door. "We got the bastard who blew up the purification plant!"
Miranda's head snapped up. "What?"
"Anonymous tip. He was standing around in the street like an idiot when we caught him. Petrovsky couldn't believe it, kept ordering us to check around for booby traps." He forced himself into an approximation of sobriety. "I, er, at least people won't have to worry about a crazy blowing them up anymore."
"Not this particular crazy, anyway." The murderer had been captured. The nightmare was over. Oleg could plan his infrastructure projects without worries of terrorism. But other, darker thoughts, nibbled around the edges. This was her chance to test the control chip. In one move, she could visit justice on a mass murderer and restore the Illusive Man's faith in her. It was an elegant solution.
Mind control, Morinth's voice whispered. Isn't that how Henry Lawson made his money? Mind altering drugs and implants sold to the Alliance. And here you are doing him one better by taking my mind from me.
Miranda shook her head. Henry had only ever cared for amassing more wealth and glory. Service to humanity was just the prop he used to stroke his ego. She would get no glory from this, but humanity would get an army. And Oriana would be safe. "Tell the general I'll need double the security. We'll be creating fresh adjutants."
"Let me go, you Cerberus bitch!" Grizz struggled against the restraints tying him to the bed. "Or I'll rip your head open like you ripped mine." The leather bit into his flesh. Miranda frowned. He would injure himself soon if he didn't calm down, and no one knew how damage affected potential adjutants. Miranda wasn't one to take chances.
Matthews kept his gun carefully trained on Grizz's head. "I thought he was supposed to be all happy or something now?"
Miranda shook her head. "We don't have the capacity to perform significant personality overwrite. The best we can do is implant suggestions and issue commands. Like so." She turned to face Grizz. "Please, stop struggling."
Grizz stilled immediately. His eyes were wide sudden terror. "How did you do that?" The muscles in his arms tensed and convulsed, but he was powerless to move from his spot on the bed."
Miranda checked her omni-tool. The readings were within the specified range. The operation had been a complete success. "Radio the lab. We can begin the transformation process as soon as they're ready."
"What? Don't I get a last meal or something?"
"Did your victims get a last meal? Release the prisoner." The technicians did so. "Please stand up." Grizz rose from the bed with halting, jerky movements, as if he were a marionette being controlled by a particularly incompetent puppeteer. She inhaled sharply. This was what she almost did to John. She could have closed up his lungs and forced him to stay silent after Aratoht. She could have forced him to send someone else after the crew, or no one at all. She could have done anything she liked. She was the god of every muscle in Grizz's body. "Please, step forward. Please take—"
"Stop it, Cerberus! I can get there on my own, thanks. Unless you get off on ordering people around."
Miranda took a step back and nodded to Matthews to take over. No, she didn't enjoy this power. She refused to enjoy it. She would only command him enough to do what was necessary and no more. And she would prove Morinth wrong.
The execution chamber looked different from ground level. The pod towered over her like a giant coffin. This time she could see the slits that contained the needles that would inject Grizz with the virus. It was warmer than usual, but Miranda still shivered looking at it. Remember Peter. Grizz deserves humanity. For Oriana. "We're clear on this end."
"We're clear here as well." The filter stripped Oleg of any warmth or humanity his voice possessed. "I wish you would rejoin us, Operative Lawson."
"Thank you for your concern, General. One variable at a time." They had only ever tested the chip with an unfiltered voice. Even the mild distortion of an intercom could affect the whole experiment. Of course, it also placed her directly in the adjutant's path. She tried not to think about that.
"Very well." He sighed. "Does the prisoner have any last words?"
"Just this: fuck you. Someday there's going to be payback and all the fancy toys in the world aren't going to be able to save you."
The restraint team hustled him into the pod and locked the door. The machine started up, sending subtle vibrations through the floor that made Miranda's leg ache. The needles hit home, and Grizz opened his mouth in a silent scream. Here, the rumblings of the machine drove out any sound. The blue light started the center of his pupil and rippled outward until nothing turian remained. Tentacles spewed from his mouth. His bones lengthened and changed. One moment, the hands of a turian, now the claws of a predator. Light blue sacs burst from the back. But he didn't move as Morinth had. No convulsions, no banging his head against the glass. Just a long, terrible stillness as he transformed.
The glass slid away, but the adjutant didn't move. Miranda narrowed her eyes. Usually there was reflexive moment of some kind, despite the weakened state of a newly-transformed adjutant. Walker said that one had even come out attacking its captors. But this one just stood there. Its eyes never left her face.
Matthews cleared his throat. "I think it's waiting for you, ma'am. I think it wants you to give it an order."
Waiting for her? The adjutants were clever, but there was no indication they had the cognitive ability to distinguish her from Matthews or to expect anything. "Take a step forward."
Nothing happened.
Whispers danced at the edge of her mind. You know what you do, they said. And suddenly, she did. "Please, take a step forward."
The adjutant took a step forward.
A cheer went up the technicians. Miranda held up a hand. "Not yet. It could just be a coincidence. "Please, turn around." It turned around. "Please, walk to the other side of the room." It walked to the other side of the room.
She heard heavy footsteps behind her. Oleg's hand hovered over her shoulder. His expression wavered between excitement and apprehension. "Please, come to me."
The adjutant didn't move. "Maybe it only works for a few minutes."
"Please, come to me," Miranda repeated. The adjutant walked slowly and deliberately to her, stopping only when it was close enough for her to feel its hot, rancid breath on her face.
"Fascinating," Oleg whispered. "It responds to the sound of your voice. But why?"
"Because…because it works on the same principle as the chip itself. When I designed Nylantherop, I built it so that the subject would only respond to my voice and the codephrase. We can build devices coded to other voices, but it would take months." Months they didn't necessarily have. She was the only one who could control the adjutants. She turned on her comm. "Chambers, get me the Illusive Man. Project Zephyr has progress to report."
"He's calling you." She sobbed. "He says the Reapers are here."
The Reaper loomed over the waterfront of Vancouver. People ran screaming as a red laser spewed from its eye. The pavement broke into pieces. Buildings shattered like glass. Ground-to-space cannons fired direct hits at what should have been vital points. The Reaper didn't even move. Oleg shivered. He thought he had seen the worst aliens had to offer when the turians had set the skies of New Maccau ablaze. War was always Hell, but this was the depths of Cania where Satan himself was imprisoned.
"I regret to say that the losses have been very grave." For once, the Illusive Man neither drank nor smoked. The confidence that seemed to radiate from his very essence was veiled. " Twenty million casualties reported on Earth alone. The Alliance's Second and Fourth Fleets have been completely wiped out."
A thousand questions flitted across his mind. Is Michael well? Do we still have control of Eden Prime? But he was a soldier and right now the only relevant question was, "What's our plan?"
"That is a more complicated question than it should be. The Reapers have always sought to divide and conquer, and the process has already begun. The Alliance has an understandable obsession with destroying the Reapers. I'm afraid we can't let them complete their plan."
"What?" Oleg asked. "Surely it would be better to work with the Alliance? Every ally is needed if we are to have any hope of defeating the Reapers."
"And we will take any allies who cared to flock to our banner. But Cerberus must remain the dominant partner in any alliance for the good of humanity. The Alliance insists on going its own way, and that way would be a disaster."
Miranda frowned. "And what way would that be? I can't say I have any objections to wanting to destroy the Reapers."
The Illusive Man smiled at her. "Always wanting to eliminate the threat. I admire your caution, but the Alliance is being dangerously reckless. They unearthed the plans to a Prothean device that they believe can defeat the Reapers. Our intelligence suggests they're pouring all their resources into constructing it despite the fact that they have incomplete data and, from all reports, no clear idea of what the device does. We're still analyzing data that we managed to recover, but all indication is that the device releases a massive amount of energy with no clear way of directing it. And what's more, it seems that the energy isn't meant to be directed."
"So the energy beam would hit us as well?" she asked. "Do we have any idea what it does?"
"As I said, we're still analyzing. But early reports suggests genetic rewrites on a massive scale. All organic life would be changed instantly, or so the Protheans believed. No word on what it does to the Reapers."
Oleg furrowed his brow. He had always prided himself on an interest in scientific matters, but this was making his head hurt. "Is that even physically possible?"
"Now you see why I say this can't be our way forward. Control of the Reapers is the only hope we have."
"I want to see this data," Miranda said. "The Alliance is hidebound and timid. It's not like them to throw resources at something like this."
"Of course. I'm confident you'll come to see what's necessary for humanity to survive." The star behind him darkened, throwing shadows on his face and making the lights of his eyes burn all the brighter. "And perhaps you'll both come to see the wisdom of using the implants. There are dark days coming. Military actions against those we would prefer to call friends. Sacrifices above and beyond what any of us should have to make. But make them we will."
The call ended and Oleg stumbled into the nearest chair. Miranda followed suit. She looked as pale and sick as he felt. His thoughts knocked into each other. The Reapers were here, and the Alliance had finally lost its mind. Cerberus would have to fight a war on two fronts. Michael, Rebekah, and Jake were somewhere out there and he had no way of knowing whether any of them were alive or dead. And he was on Omega fighting, not Reapers, but guerrillas.
"I'll need to inform the staff." There. That was something he could do.
They filed into Afterlife's upper room, their faces pale and drawn. North looked even more tired than usual, Walker had lost his arrogance, and even Patriarch seemed subdued. Every eye was on him. This was the greatest burden of command. He had to project calm and certainty even though his world was falling apart just like theirs was. "You have heard the rumors of an imminent Reaper invasion. I regret to inform you that those rumors are true. Sol has been lost. We have no information on the fate of individuals at this time."
There was a collective intake of breath. He briefly outlined what the Illusive Man had told him of the military situation and the Alliance's hope for the Prothean device. North buried his face in his hands. "There's no way we can win a conventional war."
"Fortunately, this isn't a conventional war. We've been studying Reaper technology for years. We'll use our enemies' own tactics against them." He nodded to Miranda. "Significant progress has been made in that area just today."
"Yes, wonderful progress," drawled Walker. "Any other time, I'd be jumping up and down. But the only person who can do anything with the adjutants is an invalid."
Miranda flinched as if she'd been slapped. "May I remind you that without my research, you and your harebrained schemes would still be getting my staff killed? Besides, we still have the capacity to stun all known husk types."
"Which the Illusive Man didn't even want. We can't send you into the field. The first time it gets cold, the adjutants would go dormant, if they didn't tear us to pieces."
"So all our fancy research is months away from being turned into soldiers, the Alliance is putting its faith in magic, and we're probably going to have to find them to keep them from blowing up the universe. Explain again how we aren't doomed?"
"Enough!" Patriarch rose from the table, looming over them. Oleg always knew the krogan was impressive, but he had thought he was impressive the way that Rome was impressive: his glory days were long gone but a discerning scholar might yet pluck some useful knowledge from his mind. But as he stood there with his red eyes blazing, Oleg understood he had miscalculated.
"You're bellyaching about what's going on halfway across the galaxy, but what are you going to do about the rock you're actually in charge of? I've been making war for a thousand years, and I can tell you that when you start neglecting the little details, everything goes to the Void."
"Indeed. We must always look for ways to defeat the enemy, but our first concern must be our original mission of securing Omega." He stroked his beard. Before his concerns had been rebels and possibly a vengeful Aria. But the station would make a fine prize for the Reapers to harvest, just as it had proved tempting for the original adjutants. "I'll move the defense canons to the top of the infrastructure list. And we'll need to shore up our supply lines. An army marches on its stomach, and Cerberus may not have full access to the relay system for much longer."
He pulled up a map of the Omega Nebula. "Bindur has a small mining facility. We may be able to reactivate it to provide needed platinum and palladium. I'll put word out in the safe districts. Surely some will want to do their patriotic duty."
Miranda stared at the map. "It would be awfully time intensive. It may just be cheaper to trade for raw materials and what we can't produce ourselves."
He shook his head. "We can't afford to lift the blockades on the relay. Aria might take the opportunity to slip through."
"Then what about travel that doesn't require a relay?" She pointed at the Fathar system. "Here. Lorek. They've been cut off from the Hegemony for months. Significant mineral and agricultural resources. They might be open to a trade agreement: our eezo and manufactured goods in exchange for their fresh food and minerals."
"They're batarians," North muttered. "They hate us on principle, and that assumes they won't want to filet us for locking down the relays in the first place."
"I was briefed on all potential threats when it became clear that this would have to be an occupying force. Governor Parass is a very practical man. Greedy, but practical. As long as we grease his palms and make it clear we can benefit him, then I'm confident we can broker a deal. Still…" Prejudice could be a thorny thing. So why not cut out the prejudice? "Parass respects strength. Patriarch, I'd like you to head up a diplomatic envoy. If you can find nonhumans you believe will look out for Cerberus, interests, so much the better."
Walker and North blanched. Even Miranda raised an eyebrow. But Patriarch only nodded. "Good. No humans on the team means you can't use your history as leverage. You're learning, Petrovsky."
"You and I will hash out acceptable concessions later. The rest of you: dismissed."
As always, Miranda was the last to leave. Oleg's muscles relaxed one by one as the mantle of quiet assurance he had donned for the meeting fell off. His hands shook. The Reapers were here, and all he could do was shore up their supplies. North was right as much as he hated to admit it: this was not a war they could win with brute force. The Zulus might have taken the British at Isandhlwana, but he couldn't count on the Reapers attacking in poor formation or a lucky solar eclipse.
She put her hand on his shoulder, and Oleg twisted to cover it with his own. "I won't lie to you, but you know we'll always do our best. I just wish I could do more."
"You're doing plenty. The adjutants are under our control."
She shook her head, and her smile was tinged with sadness. "No, they're under my control, and I'm useless as a field officer."
He opened his mouth to say something reassuring, but closed it again. She was right, damn it. Miranda was many things, but she would never be able to serve on the front lines. Anger washed over him. They had finally subverted Reaper troops for their own ends, but they were no closer to creating the shock troops that had been the original purpose of Project Zephyr. "We'll do something else with them. They're clever enough to pilot our most advanced ships. I think they can be useful without ever sending them to combat.
"But what you really need are troops."
"What I need are men. For every soldier we have on the front lines, there are two more in support roles. If the adjutants can take over those support roles, then I welcome them." But yes, I need more troops.
She kissed him. "I'll get back to work. But, for now, I should make sure Oriana is all right. And, don't worry, I can mask the source. No one will know I'm calling from Omega."
"Someday you must tell me how you accomplish that particular bit of technical wizardry." He swallowed. "Can you find the Michael for me? I need to know that he and Jake are well."
She softened and kissed him again, more slowly this time. "Of course I can."
Half an hour later he was straightening his coat and trying not to throw up. Michael was ten years his junior, but he had always seemed older, a perpetually harried robin storing up worms for everyone but himself. His red hair was closely shaven, and there was more gray in his beard than Oleg could remember seeing. "Olezhka, are you okay? It was on the news that there was some kind of invasion on Earth. I can't get through."
"I'm fine. Are you, Rebekah, and Jake all right?"
"We're fine, unless you count Rebekah wanting to pull Jake out of daycare." He shifted awkwardly. "So are you still with that merc outfit? SolCorp or whatever it is?"
"Yes." Nausea clawed at the pit of his stomach. Could they never go five minutes without his brother bringing up that ridiculous cover story? "I'm out in the Terminus indefinitely. We're safe enough."
Michael's eyes were hard. "Don't you think it's time to give that up? The Alliance has recruiting lines going around the block. I'm sure they'd take you back. You wouldn't be a general like you were supposed to be, but I'm sure they can find something."
"My post is here. I will not abandon my contract."
"Taking credits from any crime lord who wants to pay? Real noble of you. Catherine would be ashamed."
Nausea turned to anger, and Oleg clenched and unclenched his fist. "Don't you dare bring her into this." He took a deep breath. Anger was a valuable resource, and Michael wasn't worth it. "I'll let you get back to Jake."
"Promise me that it will be worth it," he said to no one in particular.
"That Michael will learn to appreciate you? I can't promise that. Cerberus was always hated for his role in keeping souls in the underworld." Miranda gripped his shoulder with her free hand and turned him to face her. "But I know what kind of man you are."
He buried his face in her neck. "Why does it have to be this sacrifice? I don't mind the danger. I don't mind the secrecy. But I would like to have my family back."
She turned to press small, quick kisses on his exposed skin. He put his arms around her. Yes, he wanted a family. Other men had lost their wives and children in the First Contact War, but they had rebuilt. He had a double life and stolen moments with a woman duty could snatch away at any time. If Fate had been just a bit kinder… "I wish Henry had choked on an oyster."
She pulled back to look at him questioningly. "What?"
"Never mind. Did you get in touch with your contacts?"
"No, no one's answering. It's probably just congestion, but I worry."
"Worry is why any of us are still alive," he said with a lightness he didn't feel. "But I know what kind of woman you are, and I know how valuable you are to the Illusive Man. I'm sure Oriana is fine."
The Illusive Man found himself smoking more often these days. It kept the whispers at bay. The Reaper artifact that had struck him on Shanxi had given him knowledge, not merely of science and alien languages, but insights into the nature of the enemy he faced. Ever since that enemy had been revealed with the arrival of Sovereign, those insights had become distressingly audible. But he was not weak like Grayson.
"I'm sure we can come to an agreement, Henry. This is your chance to make your mark on the human race."
"I made my marks. You crippled one and stole the other. Besides, it's impolitic to be seen with Cerberus at the moment. Couldn't you be a little more subtle in your operations? I get half my interns from Grissom Academy."
He snuffed out the cigarette and rolled the nub between his fingers. "It was necessary. Cerberus requires the best and brightest. They wouldn't come to us, so we came to them. As for your daughters, Miranda was a valuable asset. Unfortunately, her injury and her scruples are making her somewhat less valuable."
"And so you came to me as your second choice. I'm flattered." He shook his head. "But Cerberus can't give me what I want. Miranda was my chance to create a dynasty. I'd be remembered as the progenitor of a new type of human. If I worked for you, anything I did, no matter how great, would have to be done in the shadows. No thank you."
The Illusive Man narrowed his eyes. When Oleg had pled Miranda's case after removing her from Omega, he had seriously considered whether the loss of Henry's resources could be worth even a skilled operative. But, whenever her failings, at least Miranda's concerns stretched farther than her own ego. A pity he had so far failed to convince her of the necessity of the implants. "Is fleecing refugees all that magnificent?"
Henry shrugged. "The trash of the galaxy wants a safe place to hide. A deal like any other. I'm a businessman. I'm willing to make a deal with Cerberus should the right incentive presents itself. Give me Oriana, and I'm sure we can come to the arrangement you spoke of."
"No. I still haven't given up on Miranda yet, and she requires a delicate touch. Removing Oriana would deprive us of precious leverage."
"Incoming call from Project Zephyr," said Jana over his earpiece.
Speak of the devil… "Excuse me, Henry. We'll speak again. Why don't you think about which side you want to be on when the war is over?"
Walker looked as if he had barely begun to shave, but he was brilliant and fearless in his desire to protect humanity. He was frowning now though, making him look a bit like an irritated basset hound puppy. "We've exhausted all of our current samples, sir. Project Zephyr can't continue without more adjutants."
"Omega has eight million residents. I'm sure you can find sufficient resources."
Walker didn't even blink. Fearless. "Lawson would never go for that. Neither would Petrovsky."
No, they wouldn't. Miranda had discovered her conscience at a damnably inconvenient time, and Oleg still clung to outmoded laws of war in a galaxy that had no use for them. "What about Major North? Do you think you would be amenable to assisting you in securing the station?"
"I believe so, particularly if you can get him implanted. He's wanted them for months, but Petrovsky won't let him."
"Consider it done. You will have to be discreet. I managed to disguise some aspects of our work on Avernus, and Oleg prefers to take a charitable interpretation of the facts, but it wouldn't be wise to do this too openly."
"And Miranda? She'll never stand for this."
"Leave Miranda to me." He hung up and smiled. The idea flashed across his mind like lightning. Openly betraying Miranda would be a disaster. But if he could arrange things properly, he might be able to gain the loyalty of both Lawsons. Or Miranda might kill her father, and the Illusive Man could swoop in and seize Henry's fortune for Cerberus. Or Miranda might be killed, and he would have a backer in Henry, eliminating the possibility of future betrayals from Miranda . Or they might kill each other. Either way, Project Zephyr would be able to continue unimpeded.
"Call Henry and tell him I'm willing to negotiate."
