Miranda Lawson
Defined

"Now, if I have your permission to leave, I'll report to the Illusive Man. He should be thrilled with the results of our mission."

With Shepard's short nod, Miranda took one more glance around the medbay—the Commander's tired surprise, Moreau's confusion, Chakwas's calm composure, and David Archer's peaceful sleep—and left.

Unbelievable. Kai Leng owed everything to the Illusive Man, but when it came to Shepard he seemed all too eager to disregard his orders. Shepard inspired something. Jealousy, perhaps—given the snide remarks and the superiority complex, Leng seemed the petty type.

But what about her insubordination, Miranda wondered as she stepped into the elevator, and again as the conference room's QEC field rose around her.

There were no sips of a drink or puffs of a cigarette. Between the two of them the Illusive Man had long moved past theatrics. "Miranda. I understand you had an unfortunate situation concerning Overlord. I had a feeling Leng might pounce on any sign of weakness from Shepard, but that's why I had you there. You were supposed to keep him in check."

"You read Leng's report," Miranda said. "You have the specifics of what happened."

"Yes. Leng was able to neutralize you long enough to deal the damage he did. But that should've been the end of it. We would've had an acceptable outcome if you remained out of the picture until Leng secured David Archer. Instead, you ruined the entire project. I expected this from Jacob, not from you."

Miranda Lawson folded her arms. "I was following orders. Your orders. I remember you specifically stating that Shepard was in charge on this mission."

"I don't need to discuss the command dynamic on the SR-2," he said, tapping his cigarette against the tip of an armrest. "Nor do I need to remind you that this is a Cerberus mission."

"If this mission is to succeed, we need Shepard to be able to trust his crew. I wouldn't still be his XO if I didn't stop Leng."

"Stop him," Shepard had choked out. So she followed Leng, feigned complicity. Dozens upon dozens of pistol slugs were needed to break through the VI hybrid's defenses. Only one omni-tool shock was needed to leave Leng an unconscious heap on the floor.

"Moreau," she said over comms, "send the shuttle in on my coordinates. I need Chakwas ready for two patients."

"So I can trust that your insubordination wasn't out of some sudden moral urge," the Illusive Man said.

"I heard enough about Overlord's merits from Doctor Archer."

Miranda, sixteen years old, kept her posture rigid and her face blank under her father's stare. "I heard enough from Mitsuda."

Henry Lawson's scowl deepened. "Mitsuda has been the manager of the Sydney offices for almost eight years. One day, he might answer to you, but until then you'd do well to listen to him. You don't learn to run a company by staring down from the top. You start from the bottom."

"He can't decide if I'm a child or I'm his boss."

"That's good. You command respect, and once you're older the former won't be an issue."

Miranda's fist tightened, hidden in her chair. I command respect because of you.

"The point remains, however," her father said. "Lawson Pharmaceuticals has a reputation for treating its employees like family. Tomorrow you'll return to the Sydney offices, you'll observe how Mitsuda runs the place, and you'll listen to his every word. When you return on Friday, you'll report everything to me. Understood?"

Off to the side, a new window appeared over her father's desk. "Understood."

"Dismissed, then."

The walk back to her room was a short one. She changed out of her business attire, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed. Funny, Miranda noted, gazing at the closet, then the dresser, then the desk. Her bedroom had been the closest thing to a sanctuary in the Lawson mansion, yet she never gave its details so much as a second thought. Did her father? When she was a mere thought, did he ever look at the room and wonder what kind of child he'd have? Did it excite him, not just for the dynasty, but for the daughter?

Miranda pulled the sheets over herself. Useless questions, all of them. What mattered was the satisfaction in letting Henry Lawson think he'd won. Because the next day, she left no note—not on the neatly made bed and not on the still-organized desk. Unnecessary theatrics only complicated a simple but elegant plan.

By the late afternoon she was watching Sydney's skyscrapers and Sol's sunbeams pass by from the passenger seat of Niket's car. Skycars formed speckled squares above, but she appreciated the bumps and shakes of tires on the road.

"I owe you for this," Miranda said.

"Relax."

"My father's people must be looking for me right now—along with the police, I imagine. Relaxing is a bit difficult right now."

"You're sure you don't stay at my place for the night? My family wouldn't have a problem with it."

"They wouldn't have a problem with the runaway daughter of a powerful CEO?"

"They won't have a problem with my best friend."

That brought a faint smile to her lips. The idea didn't seem too terrible, an actual family living in an actual home, smiles and welcomes and all. Not just watching, too—she'd be at the dining table or on the couch. "The food is delicious." "How was your day?" Utterly trivial talk, under a different light, took on more meaning than any number of back-and-forths with Henry Lawson.

"They won't be thinking that when there's knocking on the door. At best that would just put me back at square one."

"And at worst?"

She cut that fantasy off just at the darker turn. "People getting hurt."

"So where are you going?"

One of my father's contacts. Her people will protect me if I join their organization. The "one" was on the tip of her tongue for a split-second. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"That doesn't make me feel any better just leaving you."

"Trust me."

"I…" Niket sighed. "Yeah. Okay. King and York, right?"

The last several minutes drained by, bringing them to the center of Old Downtown Sydney. Shoppers and diners and tourists roamed about—potential eyes for her father, wittingly or no, but "hiding in plain sight" seemed a strong suggestion. Mind games within mind games. When the car pulled over, she glanced back at Niket and pulled a hood on. "So this is it."

A young girl pulled at her father's arm as she pointed at a colorful storefront. Miranda opened the door and stepped out.

"You'll keep in touch?" Niket asked.

Miranda couldn't help but nod. "Promise. And… thank you."

"Any time."

She closed the door and turned around, not watching Niket drive away. I shouldn't have involved him at all. Even a simple ride posed unnecessary risks, and Niket and his family would be the first place her father looked regardless. If Niket knew nothing… Too late for that now. Perhaps Miranda had to trust him, too.

Down the street and through a large door, the hotel lobby sprawled out like a long, lazy cat. Tourists and business people sat on an excessive number of velvet-covered sofas, staring at omni-tools or holographic advertisements, sipping on cocktails from the bar. Hiding in plain sight: Henry Lawson, and his shadow, would've deemed it all very gaudy.

Miranda took off her hood and approached the front desk. "I'm looking for Miss Rolleston."

The receptionist gave her an odd stare, then tapped a few haptic keys. A call and a "Yes, Miss Rolleston" later, he looked back at Miranda and gestured to the door behind him. "Elevator at the end of the hallway. Second basement level, then third door on your right. Welcome to The Grace, Miss Leitner."

"Thank you."

She followed the directions to a small office that matched the lobby in its ostentatiousness. The elegant woman behind the desk offered her a polite business smile. "You're here earlier than expected."

Miranda shut the door. "I like being efficient."

"Much like your father." Miss Rolleston poured a glass of water, then gestured to the seat across from her. "Were you followed?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Good. As you can imagine, your father has the police and his household out and about looking for you. Thankfully, there's a great deal of ground to cover between his mansion and Sydney, and my people were able to misdirect him. Most of the Sydney police are conducting a half-hearted search in Sutherland Shire. Mister Lawson believes you're actually in Melbourne."

"You went through all that effort?"

"My boss has a keen interest in recruiting you. He believes you'll make a fine addition to the organization, so much that he's willing to lose Lawson Pharmaceuticals in exchange."

"He told you that?"

"Indirectly. I've never actually spoken to him, but word comes down the chain of command." Rolleston opened up a haptic window. "Now. Tomorrow I'll have one of my people take you to the spaceport. You'll be boarding a Cord-Hislop corporate shuttle that will take you to the Citadel. There, you'll meet Infante, and he'll arrange for proper introductions. You've never left Earth, have you?"

Her father's business trips took her all over the planet, but not off it. "No."

Rolleston smiled. "Fitting that Cerberus shows you the rest of the galaxy, then."

The Illusive Man laced his fingers together. "It's not wise making Kai Leng's hit list, but I can restrain him." For now went unsaid, or perhaps as long as you remain in line. "Your mission is too important for little rivalries to get in the way. But let me make myself clear, Lawson. I don't want this happening again."

Posture rigid and face blank, Miranda nodded. "Noted."

"I'll remember that choice of words."

The Illusive Man cut the connection, and the QEC field retreated into the conference room floor. Miranda turned and stepped through the door.

Jacob leaned on a bulkhead, arms crossed. "How'd it go?"

Always sticking your nose somewhere, Miranda thought. "When it comes to our boss, I can handle myself."

"Figured that. I don't get how you stand toe-to-toe with him, but…" Jacob shrugged and headed for the armory. "Guess it's just one of the things you do."

"You can say that," Miranda said, following.

Other operatives, after learning about her past, tried making the old "trading father figures" comparison. She wasted no time shooting that down. Her younger self made a business deal with the Illusive Man. She had very little use for father figures, and Henry Lawson was to thank for that—sincerely.

Jacob leaned back on a workbench. "I gotta say, though. You did the right thing on Aite."

Miranda pursed her lips, then looked up. "EDI, Operator override. Disable audio recording in the armory."

"Override acknowledged, Operator Lawson."

Pacing around, she returned her attention to Jacob. "Sometimes I wonder."

The experiments on husks, rachni, and Thorian creepers were intended to produce shock troops, she told Shepard. He didn't take well to the notion of "necessary sacrifices." But when she saw David Archer crucified to a massive apparatus, withered from malnutrition and crying for help… Miranda remembered a wailing baby in a cradle as she snuck in through the bedroom window. That, more than Shepard's orders or even her own pragmatism, decided her choice.

"No question about it. I was surprised when I heard what you did, but I'm glad that crazy experiment's shut down."

Joining Cerberus was a business transaction, but she spent almost half her life building upon it. Now a "moral impulse" tore at its foundations. Miranda looked at Jacob and said, "I appreciate the vote of confidence."