A/N: Firstly,I want to announcea new change in formatting around here. Based on some feedback, I've decided to split my chapters into smaller chunks. This means each chapter will still be released in its entirety, but broken into several segments for easier reading and bookmarking. I've gone and done the same for the earlier chapters so don't panic if you suddenly find yourself reading a 13-chapter story. You didn't miss anything.
Secondly, kudos again to Ieldra, my beta-reader for a number of things. You have him to thank for suggesting that I write the flashback right at the start of this chapter. With his permission, I have also "linked" universes with his ongoing story: Promethean Legacy (.net/s/6289060/1/) which explores facets of Miranda's childhood. Any reference made to events and locations from his story are entirely standalone, so there's no need to do 'homework'. Nonetheless, I encourage you to check out his fic which I consider as one of the best Miranda-theme fics out there.
Lastly, a shout-out to Tigrina, jillyfae and Nightwriter from The Character Room forums for their various feedback and advice. Not to mention big kudos to fongiel for taking hours to help me flesh out the details of the flashback.
And since I've rambled longer than I usually would, I'd also like to say a big thank you to everyone who has reviewed the story one way or another. Your feedback is immensely appreciated. :)
Chapter 4
2178 CE, Nos Astra, Illium
Miranda woke up with a jerk, cued by her internal time clock that said it was deep night. She turned around to study the man sleeping on the other side of the bed with a clinical eye.
Satisfied that his slow breathing was indication of deep sleep, she rose naked and padded across the room to retrieve her omni-tool from her overnight bag. Snapping it over her left wrist, she turned it on and pulled up the diagnostic function, setting it to calibrate as she walked back to her side of the bed.
Finally, she lifted her hand so the device hovered directly over the comatose form of her designated mark, and set herself to wait for the results.
Over the years, she'd garnered for herself a reputation as a trouble-shooter within Cerberus. Six months back, the Illusive Man had called her in personally to assist with a particular cell. The job was simple enough. Go undercover in Genex Chemical, an asari-owned company, infiltrate their R&D department and devise a way to break into their high-security vault to retrieve research data on the advancement of human biotics.
Vagaries of ecological lottery created the asari as the only sapient biotic race in the galaxy. Even so, there had to be a biological system to enable the absorption of eezo from the environment. For the first few decades of their lives, asari children were traditionally fed an eezo-enriched diet to increase the size of their biotic nodules. As Miranda understood it, it was never clear why the mechanism shut down around the fourth decade. But by the expedient approach of isolating the cocktail of compounds produced during those formative years, Genex Chemical had hoped to kick-start the process again in adult asari.
In an ironic twist of fate, the breakthrough came, but not with asari physiology. One version of the compound was found to work on human biotics. The effect was far from perfect; running the usual gamut of side effects like cancer risks and acute eezo poisoning associated with accidental exposures.
A loud snort interrupted Miranda's thoughts as her mark—Corwin Leonov—began turning around. She moved her omni-tool beyond his field of vision, one finger hovering over the shutdown button. Thankfully, he muttered something incomprehensible before lapsing into sleep once more.
She breathed a soft sigh of relief and returned her arm to the optimal position. The reading she'd set the diagnostic program to run wasn't disrupted.
Excellent. Five more minutes to go.
She had to admit it was a stunning find. The notion that human biotics could cultivate the size of their eezo nodules beyond the initial exposure had set her mind on overdrive. It was lamentable humanity had to rely on an uncontrollable mechanism to produce biotic-capable individuals. But the compound could mean an increase in the pool of viable biotics from the vast number of latent exposures. It would also give existing biotics an edge against those of other alien species. No matter how minimal it might be, humanity could profit from a leg up on the galactic stage as newcomers.
The results had been indisputable enough that Genex formed a team to capitalise on the find. Specialists in human biology and biotics were roped in, and a luminary of the field, Corwin Leonov chosen to preside over the project. The team was human-centric, but the Illusive Man was right. The majority of Genex's shareholders were asari, and wouldn't share the same interest of making their discovery readily available to their target market.
The mission called for her to infiltrate the team as a junior scientist. Her credentials were obviously faked, skilfully inserted into the job database by Cerberus technicians, but she'd spent three months undergoing intensive cramming. The result of such a crash course wouldn't stand up to scrutiny. Her skill at hiding her deficiencies and deflecting notice was expected to make up for that. Besides, there remained a certain satisfaction knowing she was likely the best candidate at hand. It was always gratifying to find another niche where her talents could be utilised.
Miranda tapped a finger impatiently against her thigh. Two minutes left.
Leonov chose this time to move again, his hand reaching out towards where she'd be if she were asleep. Smoothly, she raised her omni-tool out of the way while glancing at the readout. When it became obvious he was waking up, she disengaged the catch attaching the device to her arm.
"What're you doing?" he rumbled as she cast herself into his clumsy embrace. The green light came on just as she tossed the omni-tool off her side of the bed.
She ran a hand through her hair, mussing it thoroughly, and chanced a throaty laugh.
"I got disoriented. Forgot where I was for a while."
"Did you need something? I could get it for you."
That wouldn't do at all. Easing a surreptitious leg over the edge of the bed, she tried to locate the omni-tool.
"Oh, not at all," she improvised while cursing mentally at the futility of blind fishing. "Just the experience of waking up in a strange bed, that's all."
"I see. Sorry about that. I hope you'll get used to it though."
Corwin Leonov was a genius in his field, and could probably paper every wall in this apartment with the honorary degrees he'd been awarded. He was a surprisingly athletic and well-groomed scientist in his late-forties. Deeply married to his work, he didn't mind the occasional tryst and was known to be a genial lover. All that knowledge had been crucial in devising a cover that would play on her mark's weaknesses.
"I wouldn't mind a bit more help easing in," she aimed for the right level of coquettishness, "And I do believe we can work something out to our mutual satisfaction."
In the dimness of the room, she saw his chest heave in silent laughter.
"Don't think that'd be a problem. And I suspect we'll need the downtime in the next few months."
It was an opening, but she restrained herself. Timing and subtlety were crucial here, a well-placed note of sympathy far more effective in encouraging the human tendency to unburden secrets without incriminating her.
"I suppose I'm in good hands, then?" she teased with a soft laugh.
He chuckled.
"I hope so, but, ah, there's something that has to be cleared up."
"And that would be?"
"Just this, our arrangement can't be a factor in how I treat you during office hours."
It was as though cold water had been splashed on her face.
"I've been absolutely professional in the two months since I've joined Genex. I believe that was plain for all to see."
He looked at her, surprise evident in the predominance of the whites of his eyes.
"That's true," He admitted thoughtfully. "My apologies."
It had been instinctual, that sudden indignation. Harshly, Miranda chastised herself. She had no business feeling righteous in the first place.
"Sorry about that. I've been a little on the edge lately," she said smoothly to cover her faux pas. "The past two months have been hectic trying to get my bearings."
"It's a pity you joined us at this time. I won't lie; the next month will be hell with department hounds breathing down our necks." he raised his voice at the ceiling. "A project evaluation when we're waiting for a breakthrough? Thanks, really."
"Can't be that bad if you can still joke about it," she murmured, lifting herself up on one elbow, cheek resting on a closed fist.
"We're moving onto human testing next." Leonov's voice became serious. "Frankly, we're not ready for it. But I'm compelled to push the timetable forward."
Faint alarm bells began ringing at the back of her mind. She tried to mask it with suitable nonchalance.
"Is this something I should be worried about?"
"Our resident chump and department head, Professor T'Yana," he put a bitter spin to the designation, "has dropped non-too oblique hints that she expects something that can translate into profitable results by the end of the fiscal year. Otherwise, we'll see budget cuts or in the worst case I'll be facing replacement."
That was definitely something she could do without. Mentally, Miranda did a calculation. One more month to complete the mission and the end of the fiscal year was twelve weeks away. Perhaps the worry was unfounded, but complacency and sloppiness had no place in her missions if she could help it.
"She didn't really say that, did she?" She feigned surprise suitable for a junior scientist without much contact with company brass. "Because that sounds awfully impolitic. Unless things have gone past the point-of-no-return..."
Leonov sighed deeply.
"I expect T'Yana is panicking because of pressure from higher up. In hindsight, I can't say I blame her. But she of all people ought to know the work we're doing is ground breaking. There's a momentum to such things. It saddens me she's toeing the corporate line. She ought to just join them and not give us scientists a bad name."
"Well, if you go around sprouting such views," she idly traced a finger along Leonov's collarbone. "It's no wonder anyone takes offense."
"I will put my career on the line if that's what it takes," Leonov growled. Then he exhaled tiredly. "Except it seems I've lost that particular bargaining chip. Suffice to say we can probably expect more fireworks in the oncoming days."
"Hey, take it easy." She was compelled to say, playing the role of a sympathetic lover. "I'm sure things will work out fine."
"Did I mention you are a godsend?" He turned to bury his face in her neck. "Chances are you're going to be the only thing keeping me sane."
What came next could be seen from a mile away. She capitulated to his ministrations with quaint amusement. Such interludes could be enjoyable, provided there weren't other concerns in her mind. Lowering one leg to the floor, she finally found the errant omni-tool and kicked it underneath the bed.
That was one concern off her checklist...
There were no signs of the fireworks Leonov hinted at in the following days. And fears of disruptions to her plans faded from Miranda's mind. A morning of brisk work had granted her a bit of leisure time and she'd volunteered assistance with a side project with an eye towards completing the next step of her mission.
Holding up a datapad, she faked absorbed perusal as she entered the lift, play-acting for the camera overhead. Upon picking the lowest basement level as her destination, the security system emitted a rude blaat, demanding clearance. She inserted her employee ID card with the name Esther Callaghan engraved across it into the read-slot.
The best disguise was one that borrowed from the agent's existing personality to create a tangential persona that simply required a little embellishment to come across as authentic. Esther Callaghan was twenty-eight Earth standard years old, a bio-engineer possessing of a standoffish personality that made getting close to her difficult. Brilliant and efficient, any finicky supervisor would be hard-pressed to find fault with her work. For all intents and purposes, she was just another employee, saying and doing what people wanted to hear and see.
The vaults were located in the lowest basement level. Her cover destination was the supply storage rooms at the far end, but this particular route would take her conveniently pass the entrance. The level indicator overhead blinked rapidly as the lift descended, the changes in pressure differential creating popping sounds in her inner ear. She worked her jaw to get rid of the feeling as the lift door opened up to a nondescript corridor ending at a security door.
Ever conscious of cameras, Miranda fired up her omni-tool as if to compare information on her datapad. As she reached the door, she extracted a stylus-shaped scanner from her lab coat pocket. This went into the hand holding the datapad, positioned so the reader end would be aimed at the security system of the vault entrance.
In filling the space around her person with sufficient electronic noise, she sought to hide its activity. The security door blinked green and opened. Across the room, a guard came to attention. She waved at him without looking up from her datapad and slowly made her way towards the door located on the adjacent wall, angling the scanner to give it ample reading time.
The mission objective was to retrieve the instructions on how to synthesise the compound kept beyond that checkpoint. In the course of two months, Miranda had learned that every project lead had to undergo a procedure to implant a code device deep within their body. The device transmitted a code that was read by the vault system, a code that changed every three days as employees underwent daily security checks.
A physical passcard valid for twenty-four standard hours completed the entire set up. It was a robust system given that any attempt to remove the device would engage the self-destruct mode, precluding the possibility of a more callous approach. Pity her standing order was for Leonov to be left intact for future information retrieval, or she could've simply coerced him into compliance. Or so she'd thought. Strangely, the extra length she had to go to didn't feel so put on now.
Three, two, one... That ought to do it. She slipped through the other door without an incident and kept walking down the narrow hallway filled with doorways on either side. Swiping her ID card across the reader of one of them, she entered a supply room and stopped directly beneath the single live camera. Assured of the blind spot, Miranda examined the collected data with professional satisfaction.
That's another one down.
The next task was to crack the encryption in the code transmitted through the device in Leonov's body and replicate it on a machine to be read by the vault system. Here, a beep intruded from her omni-tool. It was a request from Leonov's secretary, as well as a timely reminder to move from her spot to avoid generating suspicion. Walking down one of the rows of shelves, she picked up the box of supplies she was assigned to retrieve and made her way upstairs.
Leonov's secretary, a stout human woman in her middle-age, regarded her in a harried fashion when she reached his outer office.
"Professor T'Yana's in there. She wants a copy of the work your team has done on enzyme reduction."
"I have it here with me. Should I go in now?"
"Yes. Got to warn you, things aren't pretty in there."
Miranda glanced at the view window on the door to Leonov's office and saw the asari gesticulating violently. Perhaps there was something to worry about after all.
She opened the door to Leonov's "come in" just in time to see T'Yana place both hands on Leonov's table in confrontation. The asari looked up at her with ill-concealed hostility before taking a step back.
"I was told you wanted the research on the EC-0 lyase inhibitor reduction, Professor T'Yana?"
T'Yana accepted the data card wordlessly before turning to Leonov.
"Two weeks, Doctor. It's ungracious to say this in front of your subordinate, but the repercussions include your being replaced if the board of directors deem progress insufficient."
Heavy silence fell in the office after the asari left. Suddenly, Leonov seized a datapad and threw it at a wall. It shattered and fell to the floor in pieces.
It was the first time she was given glimpse of this usually proud and controlled man losing his temper. Carefully, Miranda walked over and began picking the pieces up to buy time thinking what she ought to say.
As it turned out, she needn't worry about Leonov being reticent.
"I'm sorry you had to see that." He muttered. "I hate money-counters. We're making scientific history here and all they care about is their profit line."
She disposed of the broken pieces into a waste bin before turning to face him.
"What's the problem? What exactly is preventing human testing from proceeding along?"
"The compound isn't ready! We can spend millions of credits proving that's the case, or they can take my word for it." He slammed a fist against the table. "Except my word's worth squat."
She studied him long and hard. This was a man facing the proverbial push come to shove. And she still didn't know him well enough to predict which way he'd jump. But it was plain as day there was a real threat to her objective.
"Would you mind tell my secretary to cancel my plans for the rest of the day?" Leonov sighed before looking up at her apologetically. "I'm afraid that includes our dinner date tonight. I'll try and make it up, I promise."
She hesitated, unable to suppress her sense of discomfort at his obvious distress.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
"Not unless you can blackmail the board into changing their minds." He gave a sharp laugh that rang just a little hollow to her ears. "Don't worry about it. This old bear's still got his teeth. It'll take more than a pack of corporate mongrels to take me down."
Miranda's mind went into overdrive as she walked back to her cubicle. She'd more or less gotten past the "teething" period, acclimatising to her cover work as a bio-engineer. Even though it continued to grate her at how often she had to fudge her reports, covertly contacting specialists under Cerberus's payroll to pass their work off as hers. It was an irritation made worse with the discovery of just how fascinating the field of study was. And more than once, she caught herself entertaining notions of undertaking relevant studies once this mission was over.
Idle fancies would have to wait. Right now, the important thing was to find a way to help Leonov keep his position. Something had to give, and that something would not be her mission. Deep vexation coloured her realisation that this was another problem she wasn't equipped to resolve.
Once again, she was going to have to request for Cerberus help.
Despite her playing no role in its dissemination, news filtered down over the next week. The subsequent days saw the entire team working feverishly to meet the deadline for human testing. She saw little of Leonov privately during this time, although she couldn't help but be pleasantly surprised when he sent her a bottle of twenty-year old Chianti Classico as apology for cancelling their dinner date.
It was the only bright spot in days that merged into a race against time, a race that became increasingly clear they were losing. She'd set the bait and threw out the line. The only thing left to do was wait and see if Leonov took it.
On this particular day, they'd spent the whole morning on wet bench work before feeding the data into computers for analysis. Deeply absorbed over preliminary results on her datapad, Miranda was on her way to refill her coffee mug when she felt Leonov close behind her, his low rumbling voice raising the fine hairs on her neck.
"Dr. Callaghan, if you'd step into my office for a moment?"
She schooled her face into polite enquiry as he keyed the door lock and turned the view window opaque. Without preamble, Leonov beckoned her attention to his console screen where she saw the research data she'd requested from Cerberus. As she'd intended it, there were no traces of the sender's identity or point of origins.
"Interesting angle, isn't it?" he said briskly. "Tackling our problem from the subject end by raising receptor activity in the nodules via synthetic hormones?"
"Oh yes." She replied blandly, playing her cover persona to the hilt. "But I'd imagine something like this would've occurred to you."
"Any scientist worth their salt knows that for an untrained mind, an emotional state of mind is far more conducive to dark energy conversion. But this article actually lists a magnitude of effects brought on by hormones involved in different emotional responses, responses amounting to physical torture and rape." He paused here. "It's a very daring piece of work. Not to mention unethical in its implications."
"I wouldn't jump to that conclusion if I were you," she was compelled to say. "It does state the initial tests involved recreating said situations via virtual simulations. The compounds were then synthesised in the lab and directly injected into consenting test subjects."
The data had come to her void of any names or incriminating references, but she suspected the source was likely the cell she'd been tasked to assist. The research pinpointed emotional trauma as the key for optimal biotic performance, trauma that could only result from abject desperation, realising that you were about to undergo an irrevocable violation of body and mind. No, no, it was preposterous. Such an approach was pointless and excessive when virtual simulation was almost as effective for eliciting similar responses. There was no reason to suspect the scenarios Leonov implied took place at all. It was why she thought it safe to disseminate the information.
But Leonov glossed over her defence as though he was merely stating his observations.
"What's also interesting is that I received this article two days after that scene with T'Yana," he murmured. "No one else on the team had gotten wind of the problem then. And I sincerely doubt T'Yana would've any reason to be solicitous towards me."
It was never Miranda's intention to hide that she was the one who leaked the information. Likely she would have to corroborate the information for him to take it seriously, something she continued to hold out as being unnecessary. Still, it made her wonder why he sat on the data for a week.
Mistaking her introspection for reticence, Leonov's voice took on a pleading tone.
"Esther, I know you sent the information. Please don't play coy with me. Can I trust this piece of research?"
"I can't tell you my source, but the research is sound," she said reluctantly. "You'll have to take my word for it."
He ran his hands through his hair in obvious distraught.
"I can't. Don't you understand? There's no room for error. As it is, I'd have to sacrifice scientific integrity if I include this in the test parameters. I sat on your data for so long because I can't imagine doing that. But I'm desperate."
The initial need to ingratiate herself into Leonov's bed had been distasteful. But it was the only way to elicit the device embedded in his body into transmitting its access code. The process had required close proximity and uninterrupted access which made seduction the best option. But if Miranda had to admit, the experience had been far more pleasant that she'd imagine.
After all this time, she'd arrived at the conclusion that Leonov wasn't a bad man. He led his team by example, exhibiting a manic energy that was deeply infectious. Some people thought him arrogant and dismissive of those he considered beneath his attention. But that didn't matter to her. She'd been similarly accused of those traits before. What her interactions uncovered was a brilliant man who was truly taken with his work, driven and dedicated. It was a plus point that he also possessed impeccable tastes and manners. And she had to admit his attentions flattered her. It'd been singularly refreshing to discuss subjects like art and music with someone who knew exactly what she was talking about.
Her original directive was to keep this man intact for further data retrieval, but she had to wonder if her decision to follow that order was strictly professional now. What she was about to do went above and beyond the requirement for an undercover operative. But she'd never failed a mission before, and definitely wasn't about to begin.
Clinging to that thought like a lifebuoy, she sat down slowly and folded her hands on her lap.
"I think it may have crossed your mind that I'm a biotic," she began quietly.
"I wouldn't be surprised." He murmured. "Now that you mention it, your deductions in certain areas do make for a consistent pattern that tells me you have first-hand experience."
"You have to understand all I can give you is anecdotal evidence. Nothing more."
He made a neutral sound of encouragement as he studied her intently.
"My father was obsessed with exploring my biotic potential when he found out I was one. He was a rich man who spared no resources finding the best tutors for me. But he became frustrated when I didn't perform to his expectations. So he arranged for me to be raped."
Word by word, she forced herself to weave the tale. It was a construct of half-lies and artful embellishment, but containing enough of the truth to make the experience a baring of a painful part of her innermost self.
"I escaped that fate because I gave him what he wanted. Given the instinctual choice between fight or flight, I chose to fight. My biotics spiked greatly in strength after that."
She lifted a datapad from his table and held it in plain sight. The glow of biotics suffused the space around her. Slowly, it intensified until the phenomenon was concentrated around her hand. With a puff and a flash of blue fire, the entire datapad disintegrated into a cloud of fine dust.
Leonov stared at her display with amazement.
"Wha-" he croaked, and then cleared his throat for another attempt. "What happened to-to your assailants?"
"I killed them. My father covered the whole thing up. He was pleased with the results." She rubbed her palms together to get rid of the residual dust, buying time to regain her composure. "But there's no need for us to go to such drastic lengths. The compounds listed in that research will do just as well."
"No, of course," he muttered with heartfelt disgust. "I can't imagine subjecting anyone through something like that."
"Good. Do you want me to prepare the compound?"
Her question seemed to finally jolt Leonov from his distraction.
"Yes, I suppose you have to. Can't let anyone else know about this." He shook his head, and then muttered, "I'm sorry I made you bring that up. It must have been terrible."
With supreme effort, Miranda clamped down her hostility at the ill-concealed offer of sympathy. The act also brought to mind how close she'd let her real personality intrude into the situation.
She struggled for a smile, knowing it was likely as ghastly as the look on his face.
"It happened a long time ago." She rose, at the end of her tether, professional or personal. "Now if you'll excuse me, there's a lot of work to do."
As she'd hoped, testing went without a hitch over the next week. Word from the grapevine was the results had taken the board-of-directors by storm. Morale was high in the team, but all Miranda could think was she was finally on track to complete the mission.
She'd secreted parts of the scanner built to decrypt the code in various places within the lab complex. The computer virus needed to fudge security systems for the duration of the heist was in the final stage of being programmed. In as soon as one week, she'd have all that was needed to retire the persona of Esther Callaghan. The thought didn't cheer her as much as it should. But she refused to dwell on it as preparations went on.
Just an hour ago, she'd finally granted herself the liberty to check on Oriana. Ironic considering this was the first time she'd spent more than a week on Illium. Shadowing a twelve-year old on her way to school had been strangely surreal after all that cloak-and-dagger work. And she caught herself frowning when her high-powered listening probe filtered the discussion between Oriana and a schoolmate over a romance holovid they'd watched during the weekend. What would a twelve-year old know about romance? A search on the extranet took her aback when she found the holovid in question was particularly popular among teenagers. It was impossible not to contrast with her life at that age, and tentatively, she decided to just stop worrying over what her little sister should or shouldn't be watching.
A quick check of her console when Miranda arrived at her cubicle revealed that Leonov hadn't read the emails she'd sent him two days ago. That was strange.
"Is Dr. Leonov in yet?" she asked his secretary when she reached his outer office.
The woman shook her head. "Haven't seen him since the day before. He hasn't returned his calls either."
It coincided disturbingly with how she'd failed to reach him through the omni-tool over the same period of time. And she couldn't help her sense of dread growing.
"Do you know where he is?" The secretary queried anxiously. "Higher ups have been looking for him too, and I don't know how to answer them. He was acting kind of weird the last I saw him."
"What do you mean by weird?"
"Like he was in a hurry to meet some important deadline. The computer also said he came in early this morning and then left. I mean the testing is over, right?"
Miranda excused herself soon after and took the opportunity to lurk nearby until she saw the secretary leave. Slipping back in, she fired up her omni-tool and bypassed the lock on the door guarding Leonov's personal office.
Nothing looked out of place. Quickly, she slipped into his chair and powered up his console. A sinking feeling began to settle into place as she found the machine devoid of all data. Leonov had done a decent job of erasing his tracks, but she was better. Within a few seconds, she'd upgraded herself to an administrator account and began digging into the underlayers of the operating system.
A flurry of deleted emails between Leonov and what she recognised as Genex's rival company caught her eye. She speed-read through the correspondence. The content detailed Leonov's sale of Genex secrets as one of the terms for his defection, a series of negotiations that had apparently taken place over the course of two months.
The last entry was two days ago, and contained appended files on the successful human tests. With a chill, she saw the research data she'd obtained from Cerberus listed in a single entry with the following text "...synthesised compounds fail to have the desired effect. I have taken preliminary steps to secure a well-hidden facility, as well as hire willing hands to enact the required scenarios, but will need a continuous supply of test subjects with biotic capabilities which I trust you can provide."
Slowly, Miranda leaned back into the chair. The room swam dizzily in her eyes and she had to swallow several times before the bout of nausea passed. After a moment, she began to laugh, softly and bitterly.
How could she be so blind? The litany went on and on in her head until she forced it to stop. There would be ample time for self recrimination later. Her cover was irrevocably blown. Tomorrow at this time, corporate security would be swarming all over the department conducting background checks, but the bulk of their attention would be focused on the office she now sat in. The final step of the mission had to be executed no later than tonight.
Except that hinged on her ability to locate Leonov. An agonising hour was spent waiting for Leonov's secretary to leave again before she could slip out of the office and the complex. Detouring to her apartment to change to operational blacks and arm herself, she made for Leonov's apartment. It was a gamble, but anything else would require marshalling Cerberus resources for a fuck up she was solely responsible for.
There were no signs of forced entry when she arrived. Quickly, she hacked the lock and thumbed off the safety catch on her weapon. The door opened to a burst of gunshots, fired to catch a standing target. She'd stayed crouched for that exact reason, and took the opportunity to dart behind an expensive sofa just as the door slid shut. Mass projectile rounds would make short work of it and she was about to make a run for a nearby metal cabinet when Leonov's head poked up from his hiding spot.
Miranda stood up and aimed her pistol at him. His eyes grew stricken as he tried to level his weapon on her. She fired a shot clean through his hand in response, causing him to collapse in howl, dropping his firearm.
"Stand up."
"Goddamnit, Esther! Why did you shoot me for? Fuck, that hurt!"
She fired another shot, scouring the carpet inches away from his face.
"I won't repeat myself."
He finally subsided into frozen silence. In the interim, she moved in and kicked his weapon away. Painfully and slowly, Leonov staggered to his feet, clutching his wounded hand close to his chest. He looked at her dazedly.
"Who are you?"
For answer, she shoved him in the direction of the dining area before depositing him on a hard chair. Holstering her weapon, she pulled out a coil of wire and proceeded to bind him.
Leonov groaned in pain at the manhandling, but she ignored him until his hands were securely tied to the armrests. Firing up her omni-tool, she positioned it in front of him to read the latest code from his body. Leonov stared at the proceedings in initial puzzlement, and then his face turned ugly.
"Who the hell are you?"
She didn't bother to respond until she saw the green light appear.
"Where is the passcard for access into Genex's vaults?"
"I'm not going to tell you." Leonov said mulishly.
"You don't have a leg to stand on when it comes to upholding professional confidentiality, Dr. Leonov. Not after selling out Genex in exchange for a higher position and pay elsewhere." She aimed her pistol at his kneecap. "Would you like your figurative position to be matched by reality?"
"So you're one of Genex's security watchdogs sent to spy on me?"
Miranda narrowed her eyes. No matter how hard she suppressed it, she couldn't help her reluctant admiration at Leonov's defiance. And she hated that feeling. Her trigger finger tensed. All it took was a single wrong word from him and she wouldn't be responsible for her action.
"It doesn't matter who I work for." she stated in a clipped tone. "Again, the passcard, Doctor."
"Fuck off."
He screamed as the shot ripped through his knee. Panting harshly, Leonov tried to curl up as much as he could. She shoved the business end of her pistol under his chin to capture his attention before swinging it over his other knee.
"Middle drawer...on my desk." He breathed out in a thready whisper.
She walked over and pulled out a stack of access cards.
"Which is the right one?"
"The...one at the...top."
Using the wrong passcard would trigger a complex-wide alarm her virus wouldn't be able to handle. It was another potential screw-up she had no right entertaining. Leonov had begun shivering where she'd left him, a sign that shock was settling in. If he wasn't close to breaking before, he ought to be now. It all boiled down to the question: dare she trust him?
The words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them.
"Why did you lie and say you'll never use the knowledge of what my father did to me in your experiments?"
Leonov's breathing continued to fill the space, irregular and harsh.
"Why...is that surprising? I thought you'd know by now I never let go of an advantage, Ms. Callaghan." He coughed once before a hacking fit shook his body. After it subsided, he laughed, "And who are you to talk about trust here?"
She let the full wave of his scorn wash over her. It was fitting that Leonov be the one to throw that back at her. And she welcomed the fact that that he should be the one to drive the point home. A hard-earned lesson was best learned when humiliation was at hand to make it stick.
Closing her eyes, Miranda turned away from Leonov. There was nothing else to say to him.
Firing up her omni-tool, she keyed in the code of the Cerberus cell stationed on Nos Astra and gave identification confirmation to request for an interrogation team. Chemically-assisted interrogation would verify beyond a doubt if he was speaking the truth. Armed with the right information, she could then infiltrate the vault and complete the mission objective tonight.
After that, she'd have all the time in the world to report to the Illusive Man and reflect on mistakes made. Her inability to keep Leonov at his post wasn't one of them. The man was on his way to career suicide long before she got to him. It was something she intended to make very clear.
As for the rest, it was doubtful the Illusive Man's disappointment could equal the rising tide of self-recrimination kept only at bay by her overwhelming desire to see the mission through. The bulk of that would come in due time, where she would remind herself again and again that Leonov would have never stood a chance if she hadn't given him the tools or the knowledge to compromise her in the first place.
Weakness on her part. The only solution was to make sure it never happened again.