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Chapter 10: Engineered to be Perfect

Year: 2185CE

Location: Normandy SR-2 XO Office

'Dr. Okeer was killed in action – suffocation from toxic gas at the hands of his Blue Suns partner named Jedore. Jedore and her team has been eliminated. Against my suggestion, Okeer's latest project – a genetically engineered perfect male krogan – has been transported onto the Normandy. The krogan remains inside his gestation tank, awaiting for Shepard's decision.

Mordin Solus has begun his research on the countermeasure. Garrus Vakarian's presence has improved Shepard's morale significantly, although no doubt his loyalty lies with Shepard, not Cerberus. Shepard's combat performance has been impressive so far. Her performance has matched, if not exceeded, her combat records before the accident. However, her judgments, in my opinion, are still questionable at best.

Files attached contain data recovered from Okeer's lab before it was destroyed. Shepard has forwarded a copy of the data to Councilor Anderson.'

Genetically perfect. Created in a lab. That sounds familiar, Miranda thought with a silent sigh as she sent in her operation report. Perfect or not, krogans were always trouble. And this one might be more so, since he could be considered an infant despite his full grown size.

There was a soft knock before the door to her office was opened. Shepard walked in with her hair slightly damp from the shower she had no doubt just taken. The battles down on Korlus had been brutal, but it had given Miranda a chance to further observe the commander in action. Shepard was fast; her killings were never messy, always clean and almost surgical. She would methodically take down the enemies in a certain order. It was as if she treated the battlefield like a elaborate game – a game she had mastered, a game she had always won.

"Kelly said you wanted to see me," said Shepard, rolling her right shoulder where it had been hit down on the planet side.

"Yes. We've located Thane Krios."

"The assassin? Where is he?"

"He's heading to Illium for a job."

"What about the others?"

"Subject Zero isn't going anywhere, of course. And we're still trying to locate the justicar."

"Tell Joker to go to Illium, then."

"Understood."

Illium, more specifically Nos Astra. Shepard would meet Liara T'Soni, that much Miranda was certain. But would the asari tell the commander the truth about her resurrection? Miranda had to wonder. She would find out soon enough.

"You should let Dr. Chakwas check on your shoulder," Miranda suggested as nonchalantly as she could.

"It's not dislocated. Pull some muscles and a nasty bruise. I'll live." Shepard turned to leave but paused as if she remembered something. "Oh, just a heads up, I'm going to open the krogan tank."

Miranda held back a frown. "I don't think you should open it, Shepard. Okeer is not here to control his project."

"Not all projects need a babysitter."

Miranda knew she was referring to their own situation, of course. "Not all projects cost four billion credits," she countered.

"This one costs a lot more in terms of lives. All the flawed ones discarded and sold as slave army before the perfect one was made." A scowl of disgust surfaced on the commander's pale face.

Miranda's thoughts wandered to her own project and the 'perfect' one standing in front of her. She doubted Shepard could stomach the details involved in her resurrection.

"The krogan might be dangerous," said Miranda. "Unlike all the other recruits, we don't know anything about him. No psych profile, no history, we have nothing to refer to. I strongly suggest you reconsider."

"We need all the help we can get, and we sure as hell could use a krogan on our team."

"It's a big gamble, Shepard."

"Then let's roll the dice."

Lately, Miranda had found out that arguing with Shepard might be one of the most pointless exercises, especially once she had made up her mind.

"I'll go with you," Miranda compromised.

"I can handle a krogan. I'll be fine." Shepard exited before Miranda could say another word.

Miranda looked at the closed door with a frown then a sigh. Not all projects needed to be babysat, but not all projects were made to save the galaxy. Hers was.

Location: Normandy SR-2 Main Battery

"Garrus, you got a minute?" asked Shepard as soon as the door was opened.

"Yeah, sure," said Garrus. "Just checking the weapons systems. You can never be too careful."

"Come with me."

Garrus followed her out of the room. The brightly lit hallway outside the main battery blinded him for a second. "What's going on?"

She turned to face him with a twinkle in her eyes. "Trust me, you don't want to miss this."

Garrus wasn't never a big fan of surprises. "Let me guess... Joker starts dancing?"

"Even better. How often do you witness the 'birth' of a krogan? Never."

"You're going to open the tank?"

Shepard nodded then told the mess sergeant as she walked past, "Prepare some food for a krogan, Sergeant."

"What?" Gardner's eyes widened at the sudden request.

"Krogan," Shepard replied without stopping.

The mess sergeant called out after her, "I don't even know what they eat."

"Meat," said Shepard over her shoulder. "Lots of meat."

A good turian never questioned his superiors. But Garrus had never been a good turian. "You sure you want me to be there?" he asked the commander.

"Why not?"

"I wonder if he knows anything about the history between turians and krogans,"

"Okeer said he's educated. I think he knows."

"And you still think that's a good idea? When that baby krogan opens his eyes, the one of the first things he sees is a turian's face. What could possibly go wrong?"

Shepard merely gave him a teasing glance. "Come on, Garrus. Don't tell me you're afraid of a baby."

"That 'baby' weights more than the both of us combined," he reminded her. "But someone has to watch your back. It's not the first time you drag me through hell."

"Won't be the last time either. Better get used to it, Vakarian."

"I can stomach up to two times a day. If you drag me through hell three times in one day, I'm out of here, Shepard."

Shepard smirked and called for the elevator. "Duly noted."

Location: Normandy SR-2 XO Office

Miranda tracked the movements of the commander on one of her screens. At least Shepard had some sense in bringing Vakarian along. But still, that wasn't enough. And so, Miranda made a call. "Jacob, increase security on deck four."

"Something wrong?" asked Jacob through the comm.

"Shepard is going to open the tank," said Miranda. "Head down there but stay outside of the cargo area. I'll monitor the activities from here. Don't go inside until I give you the word."

"Is that necessary?"

"I'm not going to lose our asset because of an impulsive judgment."

"Come on, Miranda. Shepard's been doing fine so far. I trust her judgment."

"I don't. Her judgment got her killed two years ago."

"That was an accident."

"Staying behind for an idiot who was too stubborn to escape was hardly an accident. It was a choice, and a poor one."

"All right, all right, I'll go down there with a few men."

"She's heading inside the cargo area with Vakarian. Stay out of sight. Don't let Shepard find out unless necessary."

"Protecting her from the dark, huh? I knew you have a soft spot for Shepard."

"I'm protecting our mission," Miranda corrected him firmly. "And I don't have a 'soft spot' for anything or anyone."

Jacob's faint chuckle was heard loud and clear over the comm. "Whatever you say."

Miranda ignored that comment. "Remember, the krogan and even the turian are expendable. Shepard is not."

"I know the drill. We're all expendable, except for the commander."

Satisfied, Miranda leaned back on her chair and breathed, "Yes, we are."

Location: Normandy SR-2 Port Cargo Area

"EDI, status," Shepard ordered.

"Subject is stable, Shepard," said EDI. "Integration with onboard systems was seamless."

"Stand by," said Shepard. "I'm going to open the tank and let him out."

"Cerberus protocol is very clear regarding untested alien technology," said EDI.

"He's either a powerful addition to the crew or a time bomb," said Shepard. "I'd rather deal with it now."

"Very well, Shepard. The controls are online. The switch – and consequences – are yours."

"Aren't they always?" Shepard mumbled then pressed the switch and stepped back.

Liquid drained from the tank as the front panel slid down. The krogan within fell forward and dropped down to his knees, coughing water out of his lungs as he took his first breath.

Shepard took one cautious step towards the choking krogan who raised his head to the sound of her footsteps. Pale blue eyes opened and locked onto the human in front of him, sizing her up before his coughs took his attention away from her.

Shepard remained still, allowing the krogan to recover before giving him a proper introduction.

And then it happened without any warning beside a raw battle cry. The krogan suddenly charged towards her. With no room to dodge sideways, Shepard took the hit and was slammed hard onto wall. Without her armor, Shepard felt every bit of the impact against the uneven surface.

"Aerin!" Garrus cried out.

The krogan pressed his forearm against her throat, pinning her firmly against the wall as he studied her up-close for a second. "Human. Female."

Shepard heard the sound of Garrus' rifle but raised a hand on her side to stop him.

"Before you die, I need a name," said the krogan.

With an expression as cold as ice, Shepard stared straight into his eyes and answered with a tone that matched her face, "Commander Aerin Shepard of the Normandy. I don't take threats lightly. I suggest you relax."

"Not your name," said the krogan, his arm relaxed a little. "Mine. I am trained. I know things, but the tank... Okeer couldn't implant connection. His words are hollow. Warlord, legacy, grunt... grunt. 'Grunt' was among the last. It has no meaning. It'll do."

Grunt? Shepard observed the krogan mumbling on.

"I am Grunt," the krogan announced. "If you are worthy of your command, prove your strength and try to destroy me."

What the hell? Shepard scowled. "Why do you want me to kill you?"

"Want?" asked Grunt as if he was confused by that word. "I do what I am meant to – fight and reveal the strongest. Nothing in the tank ever asked what I want. I feel nothing for Okeer's clan or his enemies. I will do what I am bred to do – fight and determine the strongest – but his imprint has failed. Without a reason that's mine, one fight is as good as any other. Might as well start with you." He pressed his arm harder against her throat to make a point.

Holding back a wince, Shepard narrowed her eyes. "I saved you from the Blue Suns and I released you. Fight me, and I won't hesitate to kill you. But if you follow my command, you'll find your purpose."

"Nothing in the tank imprints indicated humans could be so forceful. You command as though you've earned it."

"That's because I have. My previous enemies threatened to destroy the galaxy. And I destroyed them," Shepard told him, her voice firm as steel. "I have a good ship and a strong crew, a strong clan. You'd make it stronger."

"You will give me strong enemies? A chance to find my own reasons for the skills in my blood?"

"I'm going after the Collectors from the Omega 4 Relay. They're threatening humanity and I am going to kill them all. Join me. I need the skills in your blood."

"If you're weak and choose weak enemies, I'll have to kill you."

"If you want me head, get in line. I have a lot of enemies. Those who tried to kill me are all dead."

"Hmm..." Grunt narrowed his eyes and considered. "Hmph! That's... acceptable. I'll fight for you."

Shepard jabbed the barrel of her pistol harder against the weak spot of his armor. "I'm glad you saw reason."

"Hmm?" The krogan looked down then laughed as he took a step back. "Ha! Offer one hand, but arm the other."

Lowering her gun, Shepard allowed a smirk to finally show.

"Wise, Shepard," said Grunt, nodding with approval. "If I find a clan, if I find what I... I want, I will be honored to eventually pit them against you."

"You sure you want to be called Grunt?" asked Shepard as she holstered her gun. "You wouldn't prefer 'Okeer?' Or 'Legacy?'"

"It's short. Matches the training in my blood. The other words are big things I don't feel. Maybe they fit your mouth better."

Shepard shook her head. She was starting to like this kid despite being slammed against the wall. "Well then, welcome aboard the Normandy, Grunt." She waved a hand at Garrus' direction. "This is Garrus Vakarian. My brother-in-arms, the best sniper I've ever met."

Even though he was not fully grown, Grunt was already the same height as Garrus, if not taller. "Hmph. Turian. Male."

Garrus cleared his throat. "Nice to... meet you."

"Garrus fought by my side, and we saved the galaxy two years ago. He's one hell of a soldier. Three mercenary gangs worked together and still couldn't take him down. See that?" Shepard pointed at the bandage on Garrus' face. "Even a rocket to his face couldn't kill him."

Grunt sized him up. "Maybe you are worthy as well."

"He is," said Shepard. "So is everyone else on my ship. They are the best in their fields. You'll fit right in, Grunt. Let's give you a tour of the ship."

As she led the way out, Garrus stepped up and said to her, "Never thought my scar would be used to impress any male."

Shepard gave him a sideways glance and a tiny smirk. "It works."

Then, out of nowhere, Grunt announced, "I'm hungry."

With her smile widened, Shepard shared a look with her turian twin. "First stop, mess hall."

Location: Normandy SR-2 Port Observation

"It's done," Shepard announced casually as she waltzed in. So casually that if Miranda didn't know better, she would have thought the commander was talking about finishing an expense report instead of releasing a potentially dangerous krogan from his confinement.

Of course, Miranda already knew. She had seen everything through the security camera. She would have given Jacob the word to charge in had she not spotted the pistol. Shepard was careful, and apparently more shrewd than Miranda had given her credit for.

"The crew might get nervous now that there's a krogan on the ship," Miranda commented from the comfortable couch. "I suggest we restrict the krogan's movements to the lower decks."

"The krogan has a name. His name is Grunt, and he is one of the crew. He'll have as much freedom as everyone else," said Shepard as she poured herself a drink from the bar. Whiskey, Miranda noticed from afar. "

"As big as he is, he has the wisdom – and the impulse – of a child."

"So let him learn." Shepard shrugged then took a drink. "We've all started somewhere. Give him a chance, Miranda. If he ever causes any trouble, come find me."

Miranda snorted softly. "Before or after he tears out the bulkhead?"

To her surprise, Shepard merely chuckled lightly at her cutting comment. "I've served with a krogan before. There's nothing to be nervous about. Just don't stand in their way."

Wrex the mercenary, Miranda recalled the name of Shepard's krogan friend.

"I like krogans," said the commander after draining her shot. "They're not afraid to let you know if they hate you. Straightforward."

"Hope he has his use," said Miranda. "He's supposed to be the perfect krogan."

"Engineered to be perfect."

Just like me... "There's a cost to perfection," Miranda said quietly to herself. "I should know."

"What do you mean?"

"Right. I haven't told you about myself, have I?"

Shepard shook her head.

"Well, I've spent the last two years learning everything there is to know about you. I guess it's only fair to tell you something about me." She left the comfort of the couch and joined Shepard at the bar. "If you want to me to talk, at least pour me a drink."

Without asking for her preference, Shepard scanned the shelves and chose a bottle of red wine – that specific bottle Miranda had ordered for herself. It was either a lucky guess, or Shepard could read people well. Hiding a smile, Miranda nodded at the commander's choice before Shepard opened the bottle.

"You should probably know that I've had extensive genetic modification," Miranda started while accepting her glass of wine from the commander.

"What level of genetic modification are we talking about?"

"It's very thorough. Physically, I'm superior in may ways. I heal quickly and I'll likely live half again as long as the average human. My biotic abilities are also very advanced... for a human. Add to that some of the best training and education money can buy and, well, it's pretty impressive, really."

Shepard arched an eyebrow and filled her own shot glass. "Sounds like you're designed to be perfect."

"Maybe, I'm not. I'm still human, Shepard. I make mistakes like everyone else. And when I do, the consequences are severe." She cast her gaze down at the wine glass held delicately between her fingers. "Everyone expects a lot from someone with my... abilities."

"It's a great burden. So why did you have the modification?"

"Not my decision," Miranda clarified after a sip, "but I make the most of it. It's one of the reasons the Illusive Man handpicked me. I'm very good at just about anything I choose to do."

"Not your decision? Then whose?"

She should have known Shepard was thorough in her questioning. But, for once, Miranda didn't mind revealing part of her story. "My father. He created... me. He's a very influential man and extremely controlling. He didn't want a daughter – he wanted a dynasty. I ran away as soon as I was old and brave enough. I went to Cerberus because I knew they could protect me."

"You seem capable of defending yourself. Why did you need Cerberus?"

"My father invested a great deal in his dynasty. It wasn't a matter of just leaving. I knew he would continue to pursue his... investments."

There was a shift in Shepard's eyes, and Miranda knew what that was about. Shepard's situation with the Illusive Man was not too different from hers with her father. Both of them were valuable investments; both had been made by the order of a powerful man without their own consent, be it for selfish reasons or noble ones. The difference was, she had left her father and headed for Cerberus, but Shepard had nowhere else to go.

Shepard drained her shot before she asked, "I assume the Cerberus approves of your enhanced abilities?"

"Of course. Cerberus endorses anything that advances the course of humanity. Genetic alteration included. But unlike my father and his own selfish reasons, Cerberus and the Illusive Man believe in the greater good. They see the bigger picture. And I feel like I have a purpose here." You, too, could find a purpose here, Shepard.

A ghost of smile curled up on the commander's lips, although it looked oddly sad. "You talk about yourself just like a tool to be used. By your father, by Cerberus."

Miranda shrugged. "Maybe. I'd like to know where I fit in the world. It helps me find meaning in how I was created."

Shepard shook her head as she filled up Miranda's glass then poured herself one, switching from whiskey to vintage red wine. "You are who you are, Miranda. It doesn't matter how you were created."

"That's easy for you to say. We've both been engineered for greatness, Shepard. The difference is, you were great before we rebuilt you... I am great because of it."

"That's not what defines you. Your spirit and personality are what make you great. Not Project Lazarus." The commander lifted the wine glass by its stem and gave it a twirl. "It's what makes anyone great."

Perhaps it was the wine, Miranda couldn't help but smile. "That's kind of you. I'm not sure if I believe you, but thanks for saying it." She raised her glass to the commander, who reached over the bar counter with her own.

The barrier between them started to chip away with a clink.

"This is good," Shepard commented after a sip.

"Of course. I picked it myself." Miranda pointed at the half-emptied bottle of whiskey on the counter. "That one, I ordered it for you."

Shepard chuckled softly. "So you really know everything about me."

Miranda gave her a knowing look. "Everything."

"The picture in my cabin was your idea."

"Not mine," said Miranda. "In fact, I was opposed to that particular idea. You don't need distraction."

"Come on, Miranda, a picture is hardly a distraction."

Not the picture, but the real person certainly would be... Miranda considered for a second before she asked, "Do you miss him?"

That question seemed to take Shepard by surprise. For a moment, she didn't answer. When Shepard finally spoke, her voice took a tender, quiet turn – a tone Miranda had never expect to hear from the Commander Shepard. "All the time."

Nor had Miranda expected that level of candor. Just when she had thought she had Shepard figured out, the commander continued to surprise her. "Then, that in of itself is a distraction."

Shepard snapped back to her usual self in the blink of an eye. "I can still shoot even though I miss someone."

"Anything that takes you away from the mission is a distraction."

"Or, he could be the reason why I'm fighting so damn hard."

He is seeing someone else, Miranda wanted to say but didn't. She had to protect the mission, protect Shepard from distractions.

"Don't you have anyone to fight for?" asked the commander.

Oriana. "Maybe."

"Then you should know what I'm talking about. That person is never a distraction, but a reason why we're willing to risk our lives everyday."

Miranda didn't answer; she didn't have to. Shepard was right, and they both already knew.

Miranda glanced at the woman sitting across from her, holding a glass of red wine just like she did. Dark hair, fair skin, blue eyes, full lips. From the physical descriptions, they might have something in common. Other than that, their similarities stopped, or so Miranda had convinced herself. But at that particular moment, for the very first time, Miranda began to entertain the idea that perhaps they were not all that different after all.

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