"With all due respect, ma'am," Patel said, "this creeps me out."
"Objection noted." Miranda returned her attention to the scene in front of her. One of the cars they used to pass the force field was elevated off the garage floor by a holojack. The adjutant lay on its back underneath. "Please, check the eezo converter."
The adjutant began unscrewing a knob and Miranda returned to her datapad. Oleg assured her that this was valuable work, but, after the novelty of commanding a Reaper creature had worn off, supervising the adjutants was bloody boring. The data the Illusive Man had procured from the Prothean archives was anything but boring. It proved that the Protheans were insane, but they were at least insane in an interesting way.
The Prothean device unleashed massive quantities of energy, but as the Illusive Man had said, it would not be confined to the Reapers. The genetic structure of all organic life would be rewritten in an instant to grant immunity to indoctrination. The scientists had seemed particularly interested in the ability to implant themselves with Reaper technology without fear of harm. They had spoken of creating a vast network of linked minds, a sort of mental extranet that would allow the Protheans to think as fast and well as a Reaper. To become them without losing their individuality or their physical forms. All the benefits and none of the downsides. What it did to the Reapers was as yet unknown.
"Making any progress?" Oleg peered over her shoulder. "I'll take over from here, Patel."
"Yes sir," Patel said with a salute and a sly smile.
"You don't think she knows, do you?" Oleg asked as he watched her go. "We've always behaved with perfect decorum in public."
Miranda chuckled. "These are the people who ran a betting pool regarding how long it would take John and me to go to bed together." She cringed. It had been a charming little romantic comedy for them: the attractive captain and executive officer who were perpetually at each other's throats. Of course they would fall in love. "Not anyone's finest hour."
"Especially his." His tone was light, but he stared at her with such intensity that Miranda shivered. She had thought at first that he would lose interest once his long-standing infatuation was satisfied. Or, more likely, that she would lose interest once her bruised ego recovered. She had preferred her lovers brash and take charge, not given to subtlety or romance. Oleg had authority, but it was of the quiet sort. He was a relic of a bygone age, like the leather-bound books and wooden chess pieces he loved so much.
She wasn't bored. Conversations could meander from the professional to the personal to the flirtations as easily as a river meandered through the woods. He would tease her about her ignorance of Caesar's Commentarii de Bello Gallico while she asked him to explain the process that had created her and tickled him when he couldn't. She could speak of her desire to bring Lazarus to the world and the fire in his eyes would glow all the brighter either. And he would speak of his desire to teach the same world of Wellington and Monash and von Pannwitz, his voice low and caressing. She wasn't a collection of traits as she had been for her father, but he didn't insist that she was just like everyone else the way John had And, with him, she could finally speak of Peter and know she would receive understanding instead of condescension or pity. Maybe that was the trick: find someone who was broken the same way you were so that the pieces fit together.
She stared back. When they had first begun their affair, she told him that they would always be friends. But this quiet intimacy wasn't friendship. She didn't know what it was. But she liked it.
He looked around to make sure they were alone except for the adjutant before daring a quick kiss. "Have you managed to make sense of the Alliance's madness?" he asked when he pulled back.
"If you mean 'have I figured out what the Protheans thought the thing would do when they turned it on' then probably. But no sane modern engineer would put all his resources into this. It's a fairytale. Full integration with Reaper technology? A wonderful fairytale, but still a fairytale."
He stroked his beard, and his brow furrowed. "The Illusive Man thinks he can already integrate Reaper technology safely. Why would the Protheans need something of this scale and scope to do it?"
"Maybe he doesn't have the technology as well integrated as he thought," she muttered darkly. "Archer didn't have his technology integrated properly. I spent days cleaning up that mess."
"The Illusive Man never had the Overlord device implanted in most of his troops." His frown deepened. "Still, the rumored side effects do give one pause. But if we could have the physical benefits without indoctrination, it would be the greatest discovery for humanity since the relays." He looked at her brace. "I read what the implants did to Grayson's body while they were shredding his mind."
So had she. She had met him a few times after the Illusive Man had entrusted a child to his care. He had been an out-of-shape, sandblasted executive who she could have beaten with no weapons and one hand tied behind her back. The Reaper avatar had been a graceful engine of destruction who could bound across surfaces and take Leng to his limit in hand-to-hand.
She allowed herself to think of it. Six months ago, she had been pain free, free to do as she pleased without being beholden to malicious nerves and muscles that no longer obeyed her commands.
She could run down the streets once more. The adjutants could be used for something more than mechanics. She could make love without being swaddled in pillows, finally looking at Oleg as he thrust into her.
"It doesn't matter. What the Protheans wanted is biologically impossible."
"Yes, I suppose it is." He sighed. "May I walk you back to the lab once our strange friend finishes with the car? If this works out, I'll have them assisting with construction."
When they got back to the lab, Barrington was noticeably on edge. "Call from Cerberus Command for you, ma'am " She swallowed. "It's Kai Leng."
Miranda swore under her breath. There were days she almost believed in God—a God who ordered the universe to cause her as much misery and annoyance as possible. She gave Oleg an apologetic smile. "Excuse me for a moment."
Kai Leng stood glaring at her as she entered the comm room. At least she assumed he was glaring. The eyepiece he wore made it damnably hard to read his expression. When she and Wilson had created the Lazarus implants, they had taken a great deal of care to make them unobtrusive so that John would outwardly appear to be still completely organic. The creators of the Phantom implants had taken no such care. His legs were completely metal, and wires twisted across his arms like vines. But the sneer… the sneer she remembered.
"I hear you finally got the adjutants working. Good job. What are you going to do? Have them push you around in your wheelchair?" Miranda counted to ten in her head, but her anger must have shown on her face because Leng added, "Have I touched a nerve, Lawson? You could have had all this, but you're just a miserable, cowardly cripple. Turn the temperature down, and you're useless."
I am not useless. "Our supply of entangled particles is limited, and I refuse to waste them being insulted by you. What do you want?"
"Since you can't make any use of your adjutants, we'd like to. We've managed to create new control implants keyed to my voice, and I've got big plans for them. I need five hundred adjutants two weeks from now."
"Five hundred?" Miranda's mouth hung open, and she couldn't speak for several seconds. Leng was petty and cruel, but he wasn't stupid. "We've only had six adjutant executions since I've been here. Omega's violent, but we've managed to cut the murder rate in half. There aren't that many people who warrant being turned into an adjutant."
"Then I suggest you loosen your standards." He laughed, and the sound made Miranda's hair stand on end. "It's just Omega. No innocents here, just the filth of the galaxy. Pick five hundred. No one will miss them."
"They are under my protection. And if decency doesn't make you come to your senses, maybe common sense will. Randomly turning people into adjutants would undermine everything we're trying to do on Omega. The population wouldn't trust us, and the Talons would be running roughshod in no time."
"I don't really care about Petrovsky's plan to turn Omega into Wonderland. And frankly, you shouldn't either. You've got bigger problems" His lips pulled back into a smile. "Have you heard from Oriana lately?"
No. No. Cold washed over her, and dull knives scraped at her legs. "What do you know?"
"Calm down. She's fine. For now. But I got a look at the security arrangements. Nice apartment the family has on Terra Nova. I could make one phone call to Henry Lawson and let him know all about it."
Miranda bit her lip. You wouldn't do that, she wanted to say. But the unfortunate truth was that she no longer knew what Leng was capable of. He had always been the Illusive Man's attack dog, fully controllable only by him. And he might be the type to exult in her fall from grace by destroying what she loved simply because he could.
But five hundred people so he could do who knew what with them? She killed, but never wantonly. She closed her eyes. It was easy to imagine what would happen next. Kandros would rally the entire station to her cause. They would target the new infrastructure first for its symbolic value. The fighting would be long and bloody. Thousands, perhaps tens or even hundreds of thousands, would die. Perhaps even Matt and Peter. And Cerberus would lose. "Go to hell."
"I'll tell Henry to tell Oriana that you said that." He vanished.
Pain shot through Miranda's leg as she stumbled outside. What had she just done? She had spent years meticulously planning for Oriana's safety. She had risked her life for it—made Oleg risk his life for it—and she had thrown it away in an instant. Her heart thundered in her chest. She had to get in touch with her contacts now, make sure Oriana was all right. Maybe she could talk to the Illusive Man or someone who could do something. Liara still owed her a favor…
She nearly crashed into an anxious-looking Oleg. One arm whipped out to steady her. Miranda let herself be enveloped by a warm wall of Cerberus uniform. She trusted her weight to him as she shivered. He was not her lover, just something solid she knew she could lean against that would never go away.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly.
She told him.
His eyes narrowed. "Leng is a fool. Someone should have reined him in years ago. The Illusive Man knows what kind of man Henry is. He would never surrender your sister to him."
"He threatened it once," Miranda said quietly. "He said he would withdraw his protection if I didn't produce usable adjutants. He'll keep Oriana away from Father just as long as I'm useful."
"Listen to yourself. As long as you're useful. Well, you are. None of my staff has been killed by experiments gone awry since Rolston. We have working adjutants. You've been instrumental in developing the policies that have made Omega as safe and prosperous as it is. 'The true interest of an absolute monarch generally coincides with that of his people. Were he totally devoid of virtue, prudence might supply its place, and would dictate the same rule of conduct.'" Oleg squeezed her shoulders." The Illusive Man is one of the most prudent men I've ever known."
Miranda nodded as her mind reasserted itself. Oleg was right. If the Illusive Man had wanted to sell her out to her father, he would have done it before she had a half-dozen adjutants under her command.
"Don't worry, my dear. We'll get this sorted out."
"I'm afraid Henry Lawson does have your sister," the Illusive Man said. His voice was soft, but anger flowed just beneath the surface like ice water. "Leng acted without my knowledge or authorization, but by the time I discovered what he'd done, Lawson's men had already seized her."
He continued speaking, but Miranda didn't hear him. She felt as if she were twenty years younger watching her father's men shooting up the streets of Omega and destroying the fragile life she had built. The floor shifted and moved under her as blood rushed through her ears. Father had Oriana. Father had Oriana. The Reapers had arrived weeks ago, but only now was the world ending.
"Fortunately, we've managed to track her to Horizon. Lawson runs the Sanctuary refugee camp where he's currently making another fortune by promising a safe haven from the war. He and Oriana are there." His lips thinned. "Unfortunately, if the rest of our military division is stretched too thin for us to mount a rescue."
"Then let me do it myself." It didn't matter if she had to crawl to Horizon, Father wasn't going to ruin Oriana's life the way he had ruined hers.
"Hmm. You're doing very valuable work for me on Omega. It would be an unfortunate time to lose your services. But I believe I could arrange for a leave of absence if…"
"If what?"
"Once you secure your sister, there's another assignment I'll need you for. We can discuss the details once you've dealt with your personal crisis."
"You want me to leave Omega?"
"Really, Miranda, I thought you'd be pleased. I assigned you to Project Zephyr so you would have a chance to recover from your injuries. Well, you've recovered marvelously. It's time to place you somewhere more central to the war effort."
"I… I understand, sir. It's just what I was doing such good here."
"And now you have a chance to do even more good. I know that you're fond of General Petrovsky and your former crew, but we all must make some sacrifices."
Miranda walked to Oleg's office in a daze. The Green Zone outside Afterlife was more cluttered than it had been when she arrived. Construction vehicles choked the street, ready to be sent out on their assignments. Trusted locals bustled to and fro from the customs warehouse where the first goods from Lorek were stored. Oleg had been right and she had been wrong. The station wasn't doomed to be a pisshole. They could create the Camelot he wanted so badly. If only she had more time.
She found Oleg at his desk, hunched over a datapad. "My dear, did you speak to—" He paled when he saw her face. "What's wrong?"
"He has Oriana. The Illusive Man has found her, but I'm going to have to handle the extraction myself." She swallowed, and every syllable tasted like ashes in her mouth. "And after, I'm being reassigned."
"Reassigned?" he mouthed. "When?"
"Immediately after I get Oriana off Horizon."
"I see." His shoulders drooped, and he drew into himself. He stood and walked around the desk to her, but his movements had none of their usual fluidity. He was no longer the Terror of New Macau or the genius who had routed Aria T'Loak. He was simply an old man.
He took her hands in his. She noticed with a little shock that he was trembling. "It will be very dangerous for you, my dear." She opened her mouth to speak, but he shook his head. "No, I know you can take care of yourself, but a good commander always makes sure he has sufficient resources to carry out his task. The Illusive Man may not have the men to spare, but I do. Take Matthews and Hadley with you."
"You're certain?"
"If I can't spare two men, this occupation is in graver trouble than I ever dreamed." He forced a smile, but looked as if the slightest touch would shatter it. "Alas, my assistance is also not free. I'd like one last chess game for old time's sake."
Miranda pressed her lips to his hand and wished she could weep.
Every graduate of the Macapa Space Academy received a class ring. With the rise of the Alliance, the academy had faded into obscurity, but Oleg still wore his ring with pride. The heavy onyx stone swallowed up the dim light in his room. Many of his classmates had given their rings to girls they hoped to marry, but Catherine's family had insisted on a proper engagement ring. Most of those classmates were on their third or fourth marriage while he sat here hoping for…what, exactly?
He took the ring out of the box and placed it on the dresser. It was better to enjoy those pleasures Fortune did permit him to enjoy than to waste away like Narcissus in front of his own reflection. He picked up the chess board and went to Miranda's room for the last time.
He knocked, but there was no answer. Again. Still nothing. Trepidation crept along his skin. Miranda always answered, and tonight of all nights she would be prompt. Unless she wasn't well. The crawling sensation intensified as he opened the door.
He found her curled up on her side in the bed, supported by pillows. Her skin had gone paler in her eyes were slightly glazed. Her breathing was labored but even, and the muscles in her back were rigid. "Oleg," she murmured. "I'm afraid I'll have to forfeit that chess game."
"What happened?"
"Stress, nerves, too much caffeine." She winced. "I've taken some Andrex, but it hasn't really kicked in yet."
"I'll leave you alone," he said as he struggled to hide his disappointment. His eyes flickered heavenward. Was one last night really so much to ask?
"No!" She inhaled sharply. "Stay with me. Give me something else to think about besides pain. And it's not as if either of us were planning on sleeping."
He kicked off his boots and slid into bed beside her. He curled as tightly to her as he dared. She looked small, weak, and not at all beautiful. Just as Nikolai had in the hospital bed. Except Miranda would live for a century or more if she survived this war. There would be good days like the night they had first made love, and there would be days like this one. And all his tactical genius was helpless to affect which was which. Was this how Odysseus felt? The cleverest of the Greeks, able to bring down a city when an army couldn't, but still at the mercy of a vengeful god determined to keep him from all he cared for? He needed to find better gods.
"Talk to me," she commanded. "How's the reconstruction of the purifier plant coming?"
"Excellently." He kept his voice low and soothing. What he said wasn't as important as how he said it. "Kandros is keeping her Talons away, and Grizz's death seems to have broken the spirit of his organization. Barring any unforeseen mishaps, it should be ready for operation next quarter."
"Good, good." Her laugh came out as more of a cough. "I'm sorry I won't be there to see it. Damn you for making me care about this godforsaken rock. It's funny, when I came here as a teenager, Omega was the place I was supposed to finally be free. Instead, I ended up a thief. We come here to secure one relay and we actually make it decent for some people."
"We'll make it decent for more yet. Human and alien. Someday I'll be able to power down those blasted force fields, and your woodcarver friend will make a fortune overcharging tourists." He settled back on the bed. It could have turned out the other way easily. He might have been swayed by North and Walker to confine his harshness to the alien population. After the bombing, he would have given up the attempt to improve Omegans' lives in favor of doing only what was necessary for the adjutant team to continue their work. And he certainly never would have sought out Patriarch on his own. Any small mistake would have sent him sliding into moral disaster, and perhaps tactical disaster as well. "I'll miss you, my dear."
He stroked her cheek, and she relaxed a little. "I'll…miss you too." Another laugh, more bitter. "This wasn't how you wanted to spend your last night, was it?"
"No," he admitted.
"It's not bloody fair." Her words were edged with a slight slur. The Andrex was beginning to take effect. "I bring back the dead, but I can't use any of the technology for myself because we lost the damn backups when we had to blow up the station. The magic device is looking pretty good right now."
He thought. It was a foolish thought, but one that had been gnawing at the edge of his brain ever since she had told him what the Prothean device did. "Perhaps after the war, we'll be able to turn magic into science. Let's suppose we manage to drive the Reapers back. Better still, assume they're destroyed entirely. The technology will still be here. Including the Grayson implants. We'd be able to study them in a far safer environment than currently. It would revolutionize the field of prosthetics and assistive technology."
She rolled over to look him in the eye. Her eyes were slightly out of focus, but her jaw was set. "If Henry is stupid enough to have Oriana with him, I might have to engage in some of the company-stealing I mentioned."
He didn't respond to that. They both knew that the only way Henry would hand over control of either Lawson Biomedical or the Artemis Group was at the point of a gun, and the thought of the man terrified and bleeding on some remote world didn't distress him. "And I'm sure the Illusive Man would be interested once defeating the Reapers no longer preoccupies him. And if it doesn't, well, I may not be as mercenary as Michael believes me to be, but I know what targets to hit to acquire money quickly."
"Rob from the rich to give to the scientific? Robin Hood would be thrilled." Her voice grew smaller. "You would do that?"
A knife twisted in his chest. Oh, my dear. Must you be suspicious every time someone offers you a kindness? "I would. For you and for everyone else that this war has maimed." He smiled at her. "Would you prefer I slay a dragon? I admit it's a much grander gesture, but it seems dreadfully impractical."
She laughed, and for the first time that night, it seemed genuine. "Why not? All you'd have to do is start lecturing about the French mistakes at Agincourt, and the thing would fly away."
"Are you saying I'm boring?"
"Merely that it would be forced to acknowledge your superior intellect and surrender."
They lapsed into silence. He wished it was as simple as slaying a dragon. Stories made war glorious. A single great battle in which the forces of good triumphed decisively. No one ever mentioned the monster eating processed food or the sheer boredom of sieges. You fought and survived as best you could month in and month out against poor bastards who were not so different from you. And there were no dragons either. The stories had been full of those too: conveniently placed monsters the hero slew to prove his devotion to his lady. There were only men like Henry Lawson who had placed themselves beyond the reach of any army. Sacrifice was more wearying and less romantic. You were nice to the brother-in-law you despised because your wife liked him. You stayed up all night when the baby had colic. And you watched helplessly as your lover battled her own nervous system. You pushed away every instinct that told you to quit the field and find something more comfortable to watch. Because she wanted you there. And you did it day after day, knowing you were fighting a stalemate.
She fell asleep sometime around midnight, and Oleg crept from her room. The streets of the Green Zone were deserted. He had always loved this time of night. Sneaking Catherine home after they had stayed out far too late. Executing a surprise attack that had turned a battle into a route. But tonight there was only hollow silence.
A gold glint caught his eye as he returned to his quarters. The ring. He picked it up. Glory followed those who wore this ring, it was said. They would do their nations and humanity great service as they explored and defended the new frontier. They would marry and have children and they would be strong enough to avoid having it snatched away. They wouldn't always win, but they would always know the best tactics to use for every enemy. Long would be the battle, but they would return to those they fought for as heroes.
He scowled. Glory? Power? He was powerless to prevent what he loved from slipping away. Catherine and Nikolai murdered. Now Miranda gone as well, taking from him by war as surely as his family had been. He threw the ring against the wall. It bounced and clattered to the floor. He glared at it. That would never be his life again, and he had been a fool for dreaming otherwise. Cerberus was the only family he would ever have.
He said down at his desk and began to write. He couldn't keep Miranda, but he could keep her safe.
There was a knock on the door the next morning an hour before breakfast. Oleg tossed his clothes on, muttering and cursing. If he couldn't have Miranda, he thought the least he could ask for was sleep.
But it was Miranda herself that stood in the doorway. She was still pale, and didn't look as if she had slept all that much better that he had, but she was standing on her own power with a death grip on her cane. "I wanted to say goodbye in private. You've been better to me than I deserve."
"Miranda…"
"Please, let me finish," she said, and the slight pleading note in her voice was enough to silence him. "If it wasn't for you then I would be stewing in my own self-pity. John treated me like tissue paper and then the Collectors base. Even the Illusive Man shunted me off to the side. But you? You wanted me at your side and—" She cracked a smile—"other places."
"Of course I want you." And I always will.
"Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you. For everything." She took a step toward, and it was as if a switch had been flipped inside him. He seized her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. Her free hand tangled in his hair as she kissed him back. Her tongue was warm and insistent as she explored the contours of his mouth. As if she wanted to commit them to memory. Warm moisture fell on his face. Tears, though whose they were was impossible to say. His hands moved downward, ghosting over the sweep of her neck and the curve of her shoulder.
She pulled away. Her eyes were large and shining. "Goodbye." She looked as if she would say more, but then she gave him a last smile and was gone.
North found Miranda gaping as the adjutant pod was loaded into the Gallant's cargo bay. "What's going on?"
Good. He wasn't the only one shocked by Petrovsky's little stunt. "General's orders. Since you're the only one who can control the thing, he doesn't see much point in keeping it here, and he thinks the thing will be useful in your current operation." As if the whole station didn't know that she had him by the balls. North wished Petrovsky had stuck to candy and jewelry like a sensible man.
The icy mask she always wore shattered. "Oh, Oleg. Tell him I'll make good use of it and have it back in good condition."
North shrugged. "I'm not going to tell him anyway. One of our fighter bases is under attack, and I've been dispatched to head the relief effort."
Her eyes narrowed, but if she had any doubts about his story, she didn't show them. Why should she? Her ex-boyfriend's excursion on Noveria had been all any of the enlisted men could talk about the last day. Of all the Cerberus projects to go off without a hitch, it had to be the one to create a super soldier who would be more than happy to slaughter them all once the Alliance got their hooks back into him.
He took a deep breath. The integration procedures were paying off handsomely, and he would soon be joining the ranks of the elite. Then he would finally be able to take the fight to the Talons and stop his men from dying. He merely had to be patient for a little longer.
Miranda stood on the ramp and took a last, long look around the station. She had been seduced by Petrovsky's dream as surely as he'd been seduced by her body. North was more practical. All the good Petrovsky was trying to do on Omega would be washed away, just like all the good Archangel did had been washed away. The best they could do was do their experiments and control access to the Omega-4 Relay and to hell with the criminals and riffraff living on this station.
Miranda went inside, and North turned and walked away. It was time for his own new life to begin.
Three days later, he stood looking in a mirror. His brown eyes had turned bright blue, though the technicians assured him that would fade with time. Silver strands worked their way up skin. He held up a hand and concentrated. Energy shot from his palm, leaving a pleasantly large hole in the ceiling. And best of all, he understood. Cerberus was humanity. Only it could stop the coming darkness. And to do that, sacrifices would have to be made. Petrovsky had wanted to limit his experiments to those he considered deserving, but for Cerberus to succeed, the entire station would have to be harvested. And if Petrovsky couldn't understand that, he would have to be part of the sacrifice. He turned on his comm.
"Walker? It's me. Integration was everything you said it would be. Get the holding areas ready. It's time we put this station to use."