Miranda disliked having to explain herself, almost as much as she disliked asking for favors.

Now, facing Shepard across her desk, she had to do both.

"Shepard," she said evenly, lacing her fingers together, "I find myself in the unpleasant position of asking for your help. I don't like discussing personal matters, but this is important."

Shepard's eyebrows twitched up, but all she said was: "Miranda, you're one of my crew. What do you need?"

Miranda exhaled slowly. She hadn't been certain how Shepard would respond; it was good to know that she wasn't set apart from the rest of the crew in this regard. "You remember what I told you about my father?"

Shepard nodded, crossing her arms. "Something about being a manipulative bastard."

"All he cares about is his dynasty. There was more than one reason I sought protection from Cerberus." Too restless to remain seated, Miranda stood, moving around the corner of the desk and looking out the viewport. She took another slow breath, finding something obscurely comforting in the impersonal, star-strewn darkness. She twisted to face Shepard. "I have a sister. A twin." There, the words were out, the ones she almost never admitted to anyone. "My father's still hunting her. Cerberus has protected her all these years, so she's living a normal life on Illium. Far away from him."

Shepard's mouth tightened. "Until now, I'm guessing. You think he knows where she is?"

Miranda made a short nod. "That's what my contacts tell me. He's too close, and I'm running out of options. I need to relocate my sister's family before it's too late."

Shepard's brows drew together as she nodded, slowly. "What do you know about your sister? Have you been in touch?"

Miranda shook her head. "I don't have contact with her, for her own safety. She's my genetic twin, though. We're identical." Barring the years that separated them, but that wasn't the point now. She and Oriana were the same deep down in their very cells. She wasn't quite able to keep the bitterness from her voice as she said, "But she deserves a normal life, and she's going to get it, no matter what." Oriana would one day accomplish great things, Miranda had no doubt of it. But she would have the chance to get there on her own merits and choices, not being forced like a hothouse flower.

"Okay," said Shepard. "So the family doesn't know about this, either?"

"No. They know nothing. They're quite normal. I've called in some favors, and come up with a positive reason to move the family. That's all arranged." There had been no difficulties with the arrangements thus far, at least.

"Then what do you need from me?" Shepard asked.

Miranda sighed. "It shouldn't be difficult. If everything goes according to plan, it'll be a smooth transition. All that needs to happen is that the family gets on the correct flight with no interference." She was rambling, she thought with distaste, and shook herself. "But my father is extremely persistent. I'd like to be on Illium when the family is relocated. Just as a precaution."

Shepard nodded, her lips pursing. "I understand. You'd like to keep an eye on the situation in case of any surprises."

"Yes, exactly," Miranda said, relieved.

"Not a problem," Shepard said. She seemed about to speak again, hesitated, and then said, "You never mentioned a sister before."

Miranda shrugged. "There's not much to tell, really." It felt odd to talk about Oriana, in truth. Ordinarily, Miranda didn't share her sister's existence. "I took her with me when I left my father's house. She has a normal life now. I'd like her and her family to keep it."

Shepard nodded. "I get that. Let me know when and where, and we'll get it done."

"Thank you, Shepard," Miranda said, relieved. "I appreciate it."

The corner of Shepard's mouth quirked up. "You're welcome. Was there anything else?"

With a blink, Miranda recalled herself, and the usual daily reports. She returned to her side of the desk. "Just a few things..."

There was time remaining, yet, before Oriana and her family would be relocated. With Shepard's agreement secured, and all her other plans in place, Miranda could renew her focus on the mission at hand. In the next few weeks, it seemed as though the Normandy jaunted from one end of the galaxy to the other—Tuchanka, the Ismar Frontier, back to the Citadel—on errands which were largely personal.

She could hardly object, since she herself had asked Shepard for assistance in a personal matter, as well. None of the missions took a great deal of time individually, and all allowed opportunities to hone the team's skills, as well as continue collecting resources and refining their tactics. But when Shepard came into Miranda's office, freshly scrubbed but still smelling vaguely of smoke, and said conversationally, "Zaeed tried to get us killed today," Miranda wondered if she should have objected sooner.

"Come again?" she replied, taken aback.

Shepard sank into her usual seat, slouching a bit more than her custom. "He thought it was a good idea to set fire to a refinery."

"He— what?" Miranda started to rise to her feet. "I knew he had an arrangement, but— that arrogant, stubborn—"

"Hey, Cerberus hired him," Shepard said with a smirk. "I dealt with it. Don't worry about it." She sighed. "Long day, though."

Miranda resumed her seat, but found herself still tense, perching at the edge of the chair. "Dealt with it?"

"I'll write you up a full report. I think I managed to make him see that he needs to be part of the team, though." Her eyes hardened briefly before she shook her head.

"That... sounds like an accomplishment," Miranda said cautiously. She was aware of Massani's track record. Former affiliation with the Blue Suns notwithstanding, he had spent the last decade with few close associates.

Shepard chuckled. "Don't think I'll be getting a medal for this one."

Miranda relaxed into her seat a little. "Shepard—I realize this sounds a trifle hypocritical, but do you think it's wise to continue doing favors for the crew? If risks of this level are going to be involved, perhaps you shouldn't continue—"

Shepard shook her head, though a slight smile remained on her lips. "It's not about doing favors."

"It isn't?" Miranda raised her eyebrows. It had certainly appeared as though Shepard was taking the opportunities to settle affairs and tie the crew more tightly to herself.

"People do have unfinished business," Shepard admitted, "but that's only part of it. The truth is, we're not ready yet. The Collector Base—we don't know what to expect there. The team needs more time to get organized, learn how to work together."

Miranda nodded slowly, considering. "We do need to retrieve the IFF."

"We're not ready for that yet, either." Shepard's smile faded. "And the word from Chandana's team is that they haven't isolated it yet, isn't that right?"

"Their reports are sporadic, but that's correct," Miranda said, frowning slightly. Following Cerberus protocols, she didn't communicate with Chandana's cell directly. Rather, their reports were funneled to her through an intermediary. They were brief, often unhelpfully technical, and, she suspected, heavily redacted.

"I want everyone to have their heads on straight before we board a Reaper," said Shepard, her lips thinning. "Doubts, distrust, confusion—I don't like the idea of that."

After a moment, Miranda asked, "What do you expect?"

"It's hard to say," Shepard admitted. Her gaze had gone distant. "Talking to Sovereign was... unsettling. And Harbinger, out in the field..." Her shoulders twitched. "Just being near one feels strange. I can only imagine what boarding a Reaper, even a dead one, is going to be like."

"I see," Miranda said. "It's your call, of course."

Shepard's eyes refocused and she nodded. "Yes. It is. We can take a little time."

Miranda nodded as well. She was, after all, calling upon Shepard's help herself. "You don't anticipate any further difficulties with Massani?"

Shepard's shoulder rose and fell. "I don't think so, though we can keep an eye on it."

She had to accept Shepard's judgment. It was true that, for the most part, people seemed satisfied after these personal missions. Grunt's attitude had improved considerably after their trip to Tuchanka, and even Jack had settled down since visiting Pragia. She still sneered at Miranda whenever they crossed paths, but she was actually mixing with the alien crew, at least, if not the Cerberus crew. The one exception to that pattern had been Vakarian, whose errand had left him more reserved than usual, even occasionally snappish, and had left Shepard shaken. That coldness, too, seemed to have faded in more recent days. Whatever had passed between the two of them, they must have patched it up.

They were losing time, of course—there was another colony attack, and it was only a matter of time until the next one—but Miranda had to agree with Shepard that they needed to be fully prepared before facing the challenges of retrieving the IFF and mounting an assault on wherever the Collectors came from.

#

The day of the move, Normandy's docking at Nos Astra was perfectly routine. Miranda signed off on shore leave for most of the crew, and disembarked with Shepard and Vakarian both beside her. Shepard had asked for the turian to accompany them, saying, "Garrus has sharp eyes and police experience, if anything does come up," and Miranda had acquiesced. She eyed her two companions as they made their way through Nos Astra's busy corridors, wondering if there was something more to Shepard's preference, but both appeared quite normal, as professional as usual. She dismissed the notion as they went into Eternity to meet her contact.

Miranda knew something was wrong as soon as she saw Lanteia's face.

Asari weren't hard to read, really, especially young ones, and for all Lanteia's experience, she was young by the standards of her species. From the tightness around her mouth, Miranda could tell that something had not gone precisely as planned. The asari didn't beat around the bush, which Miranda appreciated. "Ms. Lawson? I'm glad you made it. We've had a complication."

A complication. This was supposed to be simple. "What happened? Is Oriana all right?"

Oriana was fine. But Niket had contacted Lanteia, reporting that Miranda's father had hired Eclipse mercenaries, and offering to watch over Oriana's transfer himself. Lanteia said he was concerned that the mercenaries might be looking for Miranda herself, and she felt the old fear tighten her gut, just for a moment. When she'd first left home, she'd occasionally woken in the middle of the night, damp with sweat and convinced that her father's agents were at the door. It had been hard to shake the fear that his money and influence would buy the resources to snare her again. It was why she'd cut most of her ties, why she'd sought refuge with Cerberus. They had come close once or twice—one incident that she'd learned about from the Illusive Man, agents that Cerberus had successfully deflected—but now? No. She wasn't a green girl any more.

"You never mentioned anything about Niket," Shepard said.

"He's an old friend. He and I go back a long way," Miranda explained.

Lanteia asked if Miranda intended to bring in any other contacts, which she didn't; she'd prefer to handle the situation personally, mercenaries or no. Shepard asked a few questions about the mercenaries, while Miranda considered the possibilities. If the mercs really were looking for her, she could potentially deflect their attention from Oriana by showing herself. That was what she suggested when Shepard turned to her, saying, "She's your sister, Miranda. What do you want to do?"

"We'll take Niket's suggestion," Miranda said. "We'll take the car and draw their attention. Have Niket escort the shuttle. We'll give him access to the family's itinerary, just to be safe." It was good that Niket had spotted the problem, in fact.

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "So the plan is for us to get shot down by Eclipse while your sister gets to safety?" Behind her, Vakarian's mandibles twitched.

"Eclipse will be under orders to bring my sister in alive," Miranda said, briefly meeting Vakarian's eyes over Shepard's shoulder. They might even have orders to take her alive, although Miranda couldn't be certain of that. "They won't risk anything that might kill us."

Vakarian gave her the barest nod even as Shepard pursed her lips and nodded herself. "Okay. I'm ready whenever you are."

Miranda took a breath. "Thank you, Shepard. I appreciate this. I never planned on Eclipse—but they never planned on you." She'd been right, again, to ask for Shepard's support on this mission. The mercenaries had presumably been briefed on Miranda, but they could hardly have expected her to bring anyone like Shepard for back-up.

For once, Shepard and Vakarian avoided their usual banter as the three of them secured a rental car and took off for the transport terminal. Miranda was grateful for the quiet, which eased her nerves. They could handle Eclipse mercenaries, certainly; they'd done it before. Nonetheless, she felt on edge, keyed up more than was typical before combat. Perhaps it was her lack of recent combat time. Her companions, in contrast, seemed calm and focused.

She saw the gunships as they approached the terminal and cursed out loud, immediately seeing their plan: to drop troops in the cargo areas, making their way through the terminal to Oriana and her family from there. At Shepard's direction, she set the car down in cover, murmuring, "Let's hope they really do want to take us alive."

From the back seat, Vakarian snorted, and Shepard gave her a quick flash of teeth. "You want to do the talking here, Miranda, or you want me to?"

"I'll handle it," Miranda said, her hands tightening briefly on the controls before letting go and reaching for the handle of the door.

Shepard nodded, short and quick. "We'll cover you. Ready, Garrus?"

"Are you kidding? This looks like fun."

Fun. For him, perhaps. Miranda ignored the distraction and took the lead as they left the car, approaching the Eclipse lieutenant, a human man. Enterprising; Eclipse usually hired asari or salarians. She could see recognition in his face as he watched them draw near, and called out, loud and crisp: "Since you're not firing yet, I trust you know who I am."

"Yeah," said the lieutenant, nearly sneering, "they said you'd be in the car. You're the bitch that kidnapped our boss's little girl."

"Kidnapped?" Miranda didn't bother to hide her scorn as she noted the number and locations of the other mercenaries. "This doesn't involve you. I suggest you take your men and go."

He smirked at her. "Think you've got it all lined up, huh? Captain Enyala's already moving in on the girl. She knows about Niket. He won't be helping you."

Niket? Miranda didn't let her expression falter, but she felt a frisson of cold along her spine. Niket, a traitor? No.

"What do you mean, Niket won't be helping us?" Shepard spoke while Miranda was still gathering her thoughts.

"Nothing you need to worry about. Nobody's going to get killed unless you do something stupid. You walk away now, the girl goes back to her father, and everybody's happy."

The hell with that. "Everybody but my sister. And me," Miranda replied sharply.

Beside her, Shepard kept a casual posture, but Miranda had little doubt she'd be ready to move when needed. "Should we be talking to Captain Enyala about this?" she asked.

The mercenary shook his head. "You don't want to talk to the captain. She's not as polite as I am. She's the best commando I've ever seen." His tone turned admiring. "I've seen her tear people in half with her biotics. And she's getting paid a lot to stop you."

"She gets in my way, she'll never have a chance to spend it," Miranda snapped. This was no different from dealing with a recalcitrant Cerberus subordinate, really... but she didn't think they were getting anywhere with this one.

Shepard, evidently, agreed. Her weight shifted, subtly. "You're not getting Miranda's sister. If you push this, it'll go badly for you."

The merc sneered. "Captain Enyala ordered us to give you one chance to walk away. But this whole time we've been talking, my men have been lining up shots. When I say the word, we unleash hell on your squad. So I suggest you walk away nicely, unless you want things to get ugly." The corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk. This time he was the one who thought he had it all figured out.

Shepard moved before Miranda, or anyone else, could even blink. The Eclipse merc's heavy shields had been designed to deflect gunfire, not Shepard's biotically charged fist, which knocked him flat. Before he hit the ground, Miranda drew her pistol and fired at his companion, precise and targeted. Another merc fell off a stack of crates behind them, still clutching his rocket launcher, testament to Vakarian's aim. Shepard pulled her own gun and fired at the cargo crane overhead. Crates fell from the damaged structure, exploding on impact and sending a pair of mechs flying. A salarian engineer in Eclipse colors whirled to stare at the mess and then back at them; Miranda overloaded his shields while he was still gaping, and Shepard finished him with a blast from her shotgun.

All three of them rolled into cover as another group of Eclipse emerged from the cargo area. Miranda took a moment to snatch the radio unit from the fallen spokesman; Vakarian was targeting the most heavily armed mercs with his assault rifle, while Shepard peered around the crate she'd taken shelter behind and then hurtled into the midst of the knot of mercs. Miranda picked her own target, an engineer backing away from Shepard, set off another overload, and then raised her arm to slam him with a warp. She could almost feel his armor and skeleton twist and crack with the impact, and felt a surge of cold satisfaction.

It took only a few minutes to take the mercs down, and Miranda started forward, checking the frequencies on the radio in her hand. "Shepard, I'll patch us into their comms, see if we can get an idea of what we're up against. According to the specs I reviews, we need to cut through the cargo processing yard to get to Oriana."

"Wait a minute," Shepard said. Miranda turned, to find Shepard following her with an unusually hard expression. "What's this about a little girl? You said she was your twin sister."

Miranda started, taken aback. She should have known Shepard would pick up on the mercenary's words and follow up. She bit the inside of her cheek, considering what to tell. "It's complicated, Shepard. We share the same DNA, just not the same birthday."

Shepard took that in with narrowed eyes; then comprehension dawned. "She's your younger... clone?"

"We were both... engineered," Miranda said grimly. She glanced at her omni-tool, marking the time, and made a decision. "Shepard... I suppose I owe you an explanation. Oriana is my twin, genetically. But my father... grew... her when I was a teenager." Her lip curled for a moment. "She was meant to replace me. I couldn't let my father do to her what he had done to me. So I rescued her."

Shepard blew out a breath. "Why didn't you tell me that we were saving a kid?"

"She's not a child any more. She'll be nineteen this year." Almost grown, Miranda reflected. She'd seen pics, but it had been a long time since she had seen Oriana with her own eyes. "I'm sorry, Shepard. All I can say is... it didn't seem relevant at the time. There are people who would use her against me. I'm very protective when it comes to Oriana."

"I can understand that, but I needed this information before we hit the ground, Miranda," Shepard said, grimly.

Miranda winced. "I'm sorry I didn't trust you sooner. You deserved to know."

Shepard crossed her arms over her chest. "So you didn't just choose to go your own way, you took a young child with you as well."

Miranda shook her head, taking a step closer. "If you knew my father, you'd understand. I wasn't the first one he made. I was only the first one he kept. I was brought up with no friends, raised to meet impossible demands. I wasn't a daughter to him. I was..." she hesitated, trying to keep her emotions under control. Her voice had risen throughout the speech, and these were not things she'd ordinarily confess to anyone. She needed to rein in her feelings. "I don't know what I was," she concluded. She dared a glance at Shepard, whose mouth was drawn tight. Vakarian had stepped away, apparently examining their surroundings, although it was likely enough that he could hear her as well. "Oriana has had a normal life. I stand by my decision." If Shepard couldn't see that, wouldn't follow Miranda because of this? She'd simply have to finish the job on her own.

But Shepard nodded, once slowly, then more decisively. "All right. If Eclipse knows where Oriana is, they'll be moving in on her soon. We need to hurry."

"Agreed," said Miranda, more relieved than she could say.

They briefly reviewed what they knew of the cargo processing yard and set out, Shepard in the lead and Vakarian bringing up the rear. There was a lot of cover, and the Eclipse mercenaries were taking advantage of it, clustering behind crates, popping up behind conveyor belts. They could do the same, of course. Miranda and Vakarian took it turn to deal with the heavy shields of the enemy engineers, while Shepard plowed into the knots of Eclipse troopers, scattering bodies around her. Miranda backed her up with her biotics, taking advantage of the mess Shepard made to wrench armor out of shape and fling enemies to the ground. Vakarian picked off the heaviest units, the grenadiers and others, the sound of his rifle providing a steady rhythm between overloads. Shepard and Vakarian fell into rhythm with each other with the ease of old comrades, and Miranda might not have seen combat time recently, but she'd kept in practice. It wasn't difficult to fit into the space left between her companions. In short, it was all going as smoothly as one could reasonably expect a combat mission to go, especially an impromptu one.

Smoothly enough, in fact, that she had time to start worrying. How could this be happening?

Miranda had planned this. Down to the last detail. She'd pulled strings to get the right job openings for Oriana's adoptive parents, an opportunity they could hardly refuse, jobs for each of them in their disparate fields opening in a location ripe with opportunity. The perfect location, really, one with abundant educational opportunities for her sister, plenty of intellectual and cultural stimulation, but safe, well-populated, secure. Eclipse... she hadn't planned on Eclipse. She should, perhaps, have expected that her father would send some real force, but so far the Eclipse team hadn't proved to be more than a minor obstacle, thanks to Niket's warning.

Niket won't be helping you, the merc had said.

No. Mind games. They were trying to rattle her, shake her up. Niket wouldn't do that. Niket understood. Didn't he? He knew what her life had been like, at least, known how she'd chafed under her father's rules and orders. Oh, she hadn't told him everything—some things were too private for that—but she'd complained enough about her father's demands. He knew how her father had stifled the life out of her, how he'd seen her as nothing more than a tool, an instrument for his legacy. To further his dynasty, perhaps—or perhaps not. Miranda's mouth twisted into a bitter grimace at that thought as she ducked into cover, her amp a hot bloom at the base of her skull. Either her infertility was a hideous oversight on his part—a side effect of all the manipulation and genetic engineering, perhaps? Or the eezo implantation?—or it was planned from the start, in which case she had been intended precisely and exactly as a tool, and nothing more, never to have any future or hopes of her own. She pushed the thought aside forcibly. There was no time for that now; there would be time to consider her condition later.

Was Oriana sterile, too, or...?

No. No time for that now. What mattered was to keep Oriana safe.

She moved, in Shepard's wake, eyes scanning her surroundings, and slammed a salarian in Eclipse gear into a wall, her biotics humming along her spine. Vakarian finished the merc with a single well-placed shot.

But Niket had understood, hadn't he? He had lived on the estate and knew the staff, so surely he knew what her father was like, even beyond what Miranda herself had had to say. He'd cared enough to help her in the first place, when she'd determined that she couldn't take it any more. He couldn't possibly— why would he turn on her now? True, they hadn't been close for some time. She had been fully occupied with work, and besides, it was dangerous for both of them to be in close contact with each other. They'd corresponded, though, on and off.

Niket was the first person Miranda could truly call a friend. He wouldn't have betrayed her.

As if the thought had summoned it, she heard a feminine voice over the mercenaries' comm frequency say, "... Niket's making the switch. I'll rendezvous with him there..."

Miranda frowned. More mind games? Did the mercs know she was tapped into their line?

Shepard cleared her throat, and Miranda stopped short, feeling a certain guilty flush rise in her cheeks as she nearly ran into the other woman. It wasn't like her to lose her focus that way.

"Perimeter's clear, no hostiles on scanner," said Vakarian.

"Good," Shepard said. "Looks like our access is this way." She gave Miranda a long look—not a judgmental one, she thought, but rather a sort of measuring glance. Miranda fell into step with Shepard as she led the way to the lift. Shepard punched the button and glanced at Vakarian, making a tiny movement with her head. He took the hint and stepped away, his back toward them, watching their perimeter, while Shepard turned to Miranda. "Worried about what the merc said?"

Miranda pursed her lips and let out a slow breath. "No. I... no." She forced herself to truly consider the possibilities. Niket had been loyal to her once, but she hadn't seen him for a long time. He had his criminal and mercenary contacts, after all, and what if he'd owed someone money, or her father had offered him something, or... "If they've got to Niket somehow, this is going to be harder than I'd planned," she said, unwillingly. Niket had been too crucial to the plan all along. He had all the details of the family's relocation. It would be easy for him to interfere.

"Can he be trusted?" Shepard asked in a low tone.

"Niket is one of my oldest friends. He's the only person I didn't cut ties with when I left my father." She sounded unconvincing even to herself.

Shepard nodded, but there was a tension to her expression that told Miranda she was reserving judgment. "Is there a chance that your father could be using Niket to get to you?"

"I'm sure he's tried, but Niket is one of the few people who understands what my father is really like." He'd understood, surely he had. She held on to the memory of her flight from her father's house, the secret meetings they'd had, how Niket had pressed the documents she needed into her hands. He wouldn't have... he wouldn't do this. "I trusted him with my life when I ran from my father, Shepard. He won't betray me now."

She stole a look at Shepard, whose eyes were narrowed in thought. And, perhaps, suspicion, but all she said was, "Did he know about Oriana?"

Miranda's breath caught and she stiffened. "No. He just found out about that recently. It was too... personal to involve somebody else." She tried to chase away the doubt creeping into her mind. "I suppose I never thought about it, but... no. He'd have to understand why I did it. He knows what I went through." Didn't he? He had to remember, even after all this time. She forced herself to relax. "He could have turned on me when I ran away. If he didn't do it then, why would he do it now?"

Shepard gave her a brief nod. "You're the one who knows him, Miranda. If you don't think he'd betray you, I'm sure there's another explanation."

Miranda's teeth clenched again. Shepard's tone was carefully even—so even that Miranda could read her doubt plainly.

And maybe she was right. Miranda was staking a lot on an old friendship. She'd chosen to risk a great deal—Oriana's life, her freedom, her family's safety—on the belief that Niket was as loyal as he'd been years ago. To her terror, that certainty was starting to erode. She said, "I don't know, damn it! But I guess we'll find out soon enough."

Shepard nodded again. Vakarian held his silence. Miranda avoided both of their gazes as they stepped into the elevator and it began to rise.