A new line of work
Miranda set her tray down at a corner of the larger mess table. She made a point of ignoring the two young navymen at the other end, who were mysteriously engrossed in their food whenever she glanced in their direction, and watching her at every other point in time. They knew who she was; she'd heard them whispering her name to one another as she was filling her tray. But the looks weren't leering or wanton at all. Not what she'd expected. Instead, they were cautious and respectful. Perhaps a few stories had been told. As she ate, she wondered how much they knew.
The food was worse than she had expected. Indeed it hardly qualified as food at all. Miranda would have called it 'rations'. Which she supposed it was. But she had found something that tasted passably like porridge, and was in the process of forcing it down. She had to admit, it was better than the near starvation diet she'd endured while on the run.
She had been a little spoiled by the citadel supplies John had picked up during the Collector mission. Not to mention Mess Sergeant Gardner's skillful cooking. She wondered what had become of the man. The last she'd heard, he had been reassigned to the Cerberus base on Sanctum.
A tray clattered down opposite her and she looked up to see Doctor Chakwas smiling down at her. She glanced over her shoulder at the medbay, and back up at the doctor, who was pulling up a chair.
"Miranda Lawson." Chakwas said. "I'm glad to see you survived this ordeal." She held out her hand and Miranda shook it, letting a smile creep onto her own features.
"And you." She answered. "I heard you'd been assigned to medical research at Huerta…"
"Shepard met me there shortly after the invasion began." The doctor replied. "He asked if I wanted to be here. Of course I said yes."
She took a seat and they started into the food.
"So how is Oriana?"
Miranda looked up at her, shocked and suspicious. "She's… she's doing well, as far as I know. How did you…?"
"I split another bottle of Serrice Ice brandy with Commander Shepard- Excuse me, Captain Shepard, shortly after Rannoch." Chakwas explained, taking a drink from her glass, "He let slip a thing or two. Please don't be angry with him. He was very worried about you, and needed an outlet other than poor Garrus. I kept quiet about it."
"I'm not angry. I'm just…" Miranda shook her head. "Oriana is safe. I suppose actually sharing my life with people is something I'm going to have to get used to."
The Doctor smiled. "It's a very good thing to do, believe me. After you get used to it, I think you'll find yourself a lot happier. A wise man once said no man is an island entire of itself."
"Be thine own palace lest the world be thy jail."
"Who said that?" Chakwas asked.
"The very same man." Miranda answered. "He also said that wickedness is not much worse than indiscretion."
"You have a very well-rounded education." Chakwas said.
"Actually I do. But I heard that one from an arms dealer who thought he was selling weapons to Batarian slavers." Miranda told her.
"You're not a Batarian."
"No, I was one of their young innocent sales associates." She replied evenly. "Or so he thought, the idiot.
"How did these Batarians respond?"
"They went ahead and attacked Elysium two months later regardless. But thanks to Cerberus, John didn't have had to deal with two-hundred prototype M-400 Cain heavy weapons. Plus a nearly unlimited supply of ammunition." Miranda sat back and smiled, remembering the look on the pathetic dealer's face when he'd found out who she actually was. It wasn't her proudest mission. After all, Cerberus hadn't managed to stop the Skyllian Blitz. But they had managed to reduce the threat to a manageable level. Manageable for a younger John Shepard, at least.
Chakwas was watching her with a sorrowful expression.
"What?"
"I'm just thinking of how much you must have missed in your life, Miranda." The Doctor said quietly. "How old are you? Thirty? Thirty-five?"
"Thirty five." She answered, feeling the urge to clamp down. It was second nature at this point, to not share any details. Especially not her age, and she was feeling more uncomfortable by the second.
"That's ragic." Chakwas told her mournfully. "You've missed the very best years of your life."
Miranda's mouth shot open to deliver a sharp retort, but she stopped herself. Wasn't that why she was so protective of her sister after all? So that Oriana could have what she never did? Everything she'd given up? Until now, at least…
"I'm damned proud of the work I've done." She said. "I've made some real contributions to humanity and galactic civilization."
"And…?" Chakwas asked delicately.
"And… and I'm catching up." She replied, staring into her meal. "Everything with John is… doing well."
"Which brings us back to you being on the Normandy." The Doctor said brightly. "Are you planning on staying?"
Miranda glanced at the navymen across the table, but they had been caught up in their own conversation. She leaned forward anyway, keeping her voice low. "I've asked John if he'd accept me as executive officer."
Chakwas gave this due consideration. "I approve." She decided eventually. "Just be sure you watch-"
"My attitude? Liara gave me the same advice." Miranda shook her head. "I plan to follow it. I intend to earn my keep here."
"We'll be glad to have you." Chakwas told her. "I know both of you are perfectly capable of keeping a wall between business and personal. Oh, by the way, when you have a moment, stop by the med-bay. I have a feeling Tali would like to say a few words to you."
Miranda frowned. She had never quite gotten along with the Quarian, though she had enormous respect for Tali'Zorah's technical skills. They had never managed to see things eye to eye. Perhaps some of fault did lie with Miranda, but neither of them had made the effort to overcome their differences. "Nothing too bad, I hope?"
Chakwas smiled. "You'd better see for yourself. No hurry, of course. The fewer people around her, the less her chances of infection are."
Miranda opened the door to the Normandy's bridge.
"Commander." She heard Joker greet her. She shook her head. To her curiosity, his mobile assistance mech was sitting stock still in the copilot's seat She had noticed it during John's makeshift promotion ceremony, and grown immediately suspicious. While it seemed perfectly practical for a VI shell, wouldn't an exo-suit have served his needs better?
Her mouth twitched into a sardonic smile as she entertained a few cynical thoughts on what exact needs the pilot's needs were. Obviously they were ones that required his 'mobility assistance mech possess a pair of breasts, humanoid hands, and a mouth.
Joker's seat swiveled slowly. He caught sight of her and his eyes widened. "Miranda!"
"Hello Mister Moreau." She said. She wasn't entirely sure what had possessed her to visit the bridge. The ship had changed so much, and she was just happy to see a familiar face, albeit not always an entirely friendly one.
They stared at each other, caught in an awkward moment, unsure of what to say or do. Joker broke the silence first. "Look, for what it's worth, I wanted to thank you. For being there. For Shepard. When he needed it."
Miranda frowned. She wasn't entirely sure whether or not he was being sarcastic. After all, she had made a specific effort not to be there. Remembering her own cowardice was burning her on the inside, which made Joker's genuine-sounding response baffling. She had assumed the entire crew would have felt the same way she did. She had been nervous, stepping back aboard the ship, waiting for the hammer to drop. But it hadn't, and apparently no one had thought of it the same way. It was better than she deserved. She asked, "What do you mean?"
He shrugged. "Well I mean you have half of Cerberus chasing you and you still found time to go to the citadel and meet up with him."
"Not very many times." She replied, teeth clenched.
"Look, he was down on the ground when the Asari lost Thessia." The pilot told her. "Kai Leng showed up and took our last hope. We lost everything, or thought we had. And I watched Shepard sink into a… a big black hole. You know? He got all quiet and angry and moody…" he shrugged, "Almost as bad as Garrus. I tried to cheer him up, but that didn't work out so well."
"And?"
"And then he got a message from you telling him to go to the citadel." Joker grinned. "He came back happy as a clam."
The door behind her opened, and she turned to see Shepard striding through in his easy gait. Just for a moment, the two of them shared expressions of sober contemplation, and Miranda knew they were both thinking of exactly the same thing: their previous night's conversation. Then the moment passed, and he smiled.
"Captain," Joker said as Shepard approached the bridge. "Congratulations on the promotion! If that's what it takes to get above Commander, then Hackett's going to have a bottleneck on his hands."
"I'm afraid Lawson beat you to that punchline, Joker." John said. They both smiled at the pilot's look of absolute shock.
"Lawson?" he demanded theatrically. "Miranda Lawson? Told a Joke?"
John's grin widened.
"Shut up." Miranda snapped, though he heart wasn't in the rebuke. Half of her attention focused on the mechanical body. The mech still hadn't moved at all. Yet Miranda's instincts were sending out alarms. Something was wrong. It was beginning to unnerve her. She got the feeling it was biding its time. Paranoia, probably.
"I dunno, Captain." The pilot continued, staring at Miranda suspiciously. "I think we might have an imposter on our hands. Another Eva maybe?"
Playing the part, John gave her shoulder an experimental poke. Miranda slapped his hand away irritably. "I'm more interested in your M.A. Mech, Joker."
"My what? Oh!" the pilot grinned evilly. "Yeah." He said. "My mech. It's a… new model. Just came out. Here to help me get from place to place."
"From which company?" she asked. "What serial number?"
"Uhh…"
Miranda raised an eyebrow.
"EDI, stand up." Shepard ordered. To Miranda's shock, the mech straightened, moving with grace and fluid motion.
"Shepard!" Joker protested, clearly crestfallen.
The robot walked around it's seat and held out a hand to Miranda. "Hello Miss Lawson. It's good to see you." It said, in EDI's voice.
Miranda took a step backwards, still trying to register the AI's new home. She looked desperately at Shepard for an explanation. "John! What the hell happened?"
He shrugged. "Nothing I had any control over. It's a very long story."
"You gave it a-" Miranda stopped herself. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm acting like him aren't I? Not treating it- her like a person." she looked met the eyes of the mech. "I'm sorry EDI."
"No offense taken, Miss Lawson." The AI answered. "I understand that this is… unusual."
"To say the least."
"EDI was with me when we took down Chronos Station." John told her. "The body belonged to another Cerberus AI using the name Eva."
Miranda stared. "Eva? Eva Core?"
"Yeah. How did you…?"
"Her name is fairly well-known to top ranking Cerberus personnel." Miranda explained. "from what little I know she was a real human once. And she knew the Illusive Man before Cerberus. I don't know what happened to her, and it doesn't make much difference now anyway." She sighed, crossing her arms. "I'd better go. Unless there's something you need…"
"There actually is." John told her. "Follow me."
Miranda stared down at the circular War Room, with its central holographic table, and hanging wires. It really did look like a mess. But it had lasted them. Aesthetics were secondary to necessity, and she could see the immediate value of such an arrangement. She took a moment to think about where she was standing. The Reaper war had been fought from this room. Alliances had been brokered, assets collected. It was an historic place, despite its messy state.
"Welcome to the nerve center of the resistance." John said, his voice and gestures creating a bombastic parody of a real tour guide. "Featuring a fully functional holographic strategy map, terminals connecting to the leadership of every race in the galaxy, and a brand new, state-of-the-art entanglement communicator!"
"State-of-the-art?" she asked, smiling slightly. "We'd been using one for more than nine months before you handed it over…"
"I know. I held my tongue." John replied, dropping his hands. "I had to do that a lot recently. Everyone was so very proud. I didn't want to spoil the moment."
He led her around the perimeter of the room until they reached an alcove. A tiny space, barely larger than the communal washrooms on the third deck. The loose wires and unknowable technology were packed even more densely around this area.
"EDI, connect us with Admiral Hackett, please." John requested. Miranda smiled slightly. She rarely heard Shepard give a direct order outside of battle. He had never made a habit of ordering his crew around. He made requests, always forming things in a polite way. In the form of a question. He had never needed to pull rank. People followed his instructions, and obeyed because they wanted to. Because they trusted him to know what he was doing. Miranda considered herself a capable leader. She had proven it on multiple occasions, most of which no one knew about. But sometimes she was forced to pull rank. To rely on the weight of the Illusive Man's authority rather than her own. John never had to. It had caused a burning jealousy during her first few months working with him, but she had gotten over it. Eventually.
Hackett's holographic blue avatar shimmered into view. "Captain, what can I do for you?" he asked.
"Sir, Miranda Lawson is going to take over as the Normandy's Executive Officer." John told him.
Hackett stared at them, his gaze switching back and forth between both Shepard and Miranda. They both stood silently, awaiting his reply.
"Captain, can I speak to you in private?" he asked.
Miranda gave Shepard a nod and exited the room.
Hackett turned his attention back to John. "Captain," he began, "She's former Cerberus. You're damned lucky I'm allowing her on board at all. Her relationship with you, and full cooperation with us, are the only things preventing her from being tried as a war criminal."
"She's trustworthy, sir." Shepard replied. "And she'd worked with this ship and some members of her crew since before the Alliance put their sticker on the side. This is the SSV Normandy. She deserves the best, and that means Miranda Lawson. You don't have a better candidate. I can guarantee that much."
"I'm aware of her accomplishments, but it's unprecedented, Shepard." Hackett said.
"Name one thing we've done over the past four months that wasn't, sir." John shot back.
"I can't see it happening, Captain." The Admiral shook his head. "I'm sorry."
"I could override the orders. I've still got council Spectre status." Shepard told him. "it supersedes Alliance protocol."
"The council is dead, Shepard." Hackett said coolly. "And the citadel is in ruins."
"The galactic community isn't, sir." Shepard replied, unashamed. "Or are we only a part of that when Earth is getting burnt to a crisp?"
"Watch your tone Commander."
"I need her on board this ship. And for her sake, she needs something to do. A way to help." John said, not backing down. "You asked me to put the uniform on again, sir. I guess I'm making this a condition of my continued service and support."
Hackett watched him carefully.
"Give her a trial run, sir. Let her prove herself."
"Commander, is it just possible that your personal feelings are clouding your judgment?"
"I know they are." John responded. "But she's helped you out during the war. She helped me and the rest of the crew out. She could have turned the gun on me at any point but didn't. She's reformed, sir. And she's the best candidate for the job."
"Captain-"
"Do you have a better option?"
"No-"
"Well then…?"
Shepard could see Hackett's expression. The Admiral's patience was wearing paper thin. Hackett reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Very well, Shepard. I'll have a rank assigned, and the necessary paperwork filled out."
"I appreciate it, Admiral."
"Captain Shepard, I understand your desire to have her around. And I understand how much this all means to both of you, but watch it. My patience only lasts for so long. The galaxy owes you. Don't collect that favor too soon. Show some respect for the chain of command. We can only bend the rules so far."
"I've bent them a lot further than this, sir."
Hackett glared at him. "Just watch it, Shepard. This is the last time. When is your next supply run?"
"Oh nine-hundred."
"I'll have a uniform delivered." Hackett said. "Send her size to my yeoman. Don't expect this again. Hackett out."
"John?"
John swiveled in his desk chair. Miranda stepped out of the washroom, wearing an alliance uniform. It didn't fit her. Not like the old Cerberus catsuit had. Said suit was now lying folded neatly on the bed. Neither of them were sure what was going to be done with it.
She had pulled her hair back into a ponytail. It looked good, but her beauty wasn't accented in quite the same way it had been before. It was present, certainly. But she had neglected her usual makeup, and lacked the sexy atmosphere which always seemed to follow her. Instead of the stark white, she was dressed in dark greys and browns, and blue camouflage.
On one level, he sincerely regretted the change, but he didn't like thinking on that level very much so he chose to be glad of it instead. It reflected the difference in her personality. It was symbolic of the way she had opened up. She was no longer the Ice Queen. The mysterious Cerberus femme fatale. Now she looked like the woman he knew her to be: She was Miranda Lawson, an intelligent, practical officer.
Or perhaps Operative was indeed still the better word; Hackett had managed to secure for her the rank of Specialist. It sounded good because no one could nail down exactly what it meant, nor how far up the chain of command it placed her. She wouldn't be forced to argue with those bitter few who were waiting on promotion themselves. And he had to admit, her skill set was far too varied for a regular marine rank.
To the crew, she would at least look like she belonged on board. The rest was simply a matter of time and experience. Garrus, Tali, and a few others had spread a few stories over the course of the months-long conflict. Everyone on the Normandy knew the name Miranda Lawson. Time would tell if her reputation would be a help, or a hinderance.
John moved up to his dais and pressed the ship-wide intercom. "If I could get everyone's attention for a moment…"
Miranda noted how his voice sounded a little more frail as he spoke to them. He sounded weak. Weaker than he had during any of their private conversations. He was also favoring one side slightly more than the other. It was a low move. Manipulative. But designed to impress upon the crew the necessity of Miranda's presence. He was reminding them all of what he'd been through. Of what they'd been through. He was also carrying Garrus' visor, which seemed to have found permanent residence on his desk. Another manipulative move. They had lost people. Good people. But numbers needed replenishment. Just another reason to accept her presence on board. She couldn't be here just for him. That would not go over well. He needed them to think that the entire ship needed her presence.
The CIC crew stepped away from their stations to listen with rapt attention.
John began to speak, still in that weakened voice. "Many of you may have noticed the new crew member."
A few heads nodded.
"This is Specialist Miranda Lawson. A former Cerberus Operative." He gestured at the interior of the CIC. "All of you know that the Alliance didn't build this vessel. This was a Cerberus ship, commissioned by the Illusive Man himself to deal with both the Collectors and the Reapers. Miranda was the head of our cell. The Lazarus Cell. She brought me back, assembled this ship, and the very best people humanity had to offer. She was my executive officer then, and she has agreed to take on the position again.
"This ship hasn't been around very long, but we already have a tradition of competence, excellence, and an extraordinary ability to get the job done despite all odds. A tradition, I might add, which has carried over to the Alliance, and her current crew."
He let them take a moment to revel in the praise. "And no one embodies those ideals better than Miranda Lawson. Yes, she's former Cerberus. If you have questions or concerns, ask. We'll answer. She has nothing to hide. Nor do I.
"You think this war is over? Just because the Reapers are gone? There's still Palaven. Thessia. Sur'Kesh. Dekuuna. Things are going to be rough over the next few months, and we're down a few." He waved the visor slightly to remind them. "And I'm not at 100% myself. We'll need her help. I'll need her help. I've asked her here myself, so show some patience. Show some respect."
His shoulders slumped slightly, and his voice grew slightly more frail. It was still strong, still Shepard. He just lacked an edge. It was disheartening to see, and for a moment, Miranda wasn't quite sure herself whether or not he was putting on a show. She had no doubt his wounds were still aching, but she did not know to what extent his current pain was an act. If it was, it was a very subtle one. It had to be. And from what she could tell, it was working. The crew were wincing along with him.
He turned back to her. "Do you have anything to say, Miranda?"
She nodded. He turned and walked down the dais, still favoring one side ever so slightly.
Miranda felt the heat of the crowd as they watched her with strict attention. To her surprise, she felt ill at ease. Again, it was a problem of experience. This crew had gone through hell together. Despite her relationship with John, and her intimate knowledge of the ship, original crew, and mission, she was a newcomer, and would have to prove herself.
"I'm Miranda. Call me Specialist Lawson." She let her voice take on a stern edge. "I don't have patience for foolishness, or incompetence." She nodded at Shepard. "John tells me you're good. He tells me you're the best. But he was right, when he got promoted, eh gave a speech, and he said that we didn't win. Our best was not enough, and for all we know, they could be coming back." She listened to their groans and silent curses, and drove the point home. "This could be the eye of the storm. And we've already lost Garrus Vakarian, Ashley Williams, half our galaxy's collected fleets, as well as the home worlds of all four council species. In a matter of weeks, the Reapers did more damage than any species in galactic history, including the Krogan."
She paused, and glanced back at John. He offered her a supporting look. You're doing fine.
"Our best wasn't enough to stop it. Work with me. I'll work with you, and we'll see if we can't get that much better."
Shepard's eyes opened slowly. He heard a woman's voice. Frantic. Distressed nearly beyond reason.
"Did we get anyone to the beam?" the voice demanded.
High above his head, the black clouds boiled and writhed, whirling around the beam as it cut through the earth's atmosphere. The band of light was hot. Blinding. But not as blinding as the pain.
"Negative." Another voice answered. Male. British. Coates. Major Coates. "Our entire force was decimated."
His skin burned, his muscles screamed in torment. His ribs stung on his left side, and he knew than they were broken. With every tiny movement he made, an entirely new wave of agony would tear through his flesh, paralyzing him. He watched helpless as harbinger's blurry shape blasted off back into the atmosphere.
"it's too much!" Coates reported. "We need to regroup! Fall back to the buildings!"
"Fall back!" the woman's voice echoed. "All forces retreat!"
His armour was a blackened husk. Burnt and melted. He could feel the heat and terrible pain where the plastics had melded with the skin around his neck and upper arms.
NO! We're not going to lose! Not so close to the end!
Miranda's face flashed through his mind, and he took solace in his memories of her, using them as a point of strength and comfort. Blockading them from the pain and misery of his current situation, and finding the strength to rise, despite it all. John struggled. Fighting the gritty pain and his unresponsive limbs, he slowly rolled onto his stomach and forced himself to his knees, his hand grasping the grip of a pistol along the way.
He rose to his feet slowly, gingerly, and began to make his way to the beam, concentrating on putting one foot ahead of the other. It became a hypnotic ritual. He knew that so long as he concentrated on this smallest of tasks, he would reach his goal. It was only a matter of time.
He was so engrossed in his task that he nearly missed the husks. Three of them, approaching him with the easy stalk of wolves eyeing a wounded lamb. Raising his arm was difficult, but John remembered Miranda, and knew that if he didn't kill them, he'd never see her again. Not that it was likely in any case, but he had hope. It was all he had left.
Even as he gunned them down, another sharp pain engulfed his side. This was familiar, he thought as it knocked him to the ground, he had felt it before: a mass effect round, puncturing the unprotected flesh of his abdomen. It had originated from a marauder, wherever it had come from…
From his helpless position on the ground, John watched his final enemy prepare for a second shot. He raised his pistol in a last attempt to defend himself, but knowing it was useless.. This was it. The end.
His attacker's head exploded, blood fountaining neatly from the base of the neck.
John woke up in a cold sweat. He sat up, ignoring the relatively minor pain, and fumbled for the light switch. Once found, he flicked it on, and stared at the desk upon which lay the visor of Garrus Vakarian.
Yes, the Marauder's head had exploded. But John hadn't pulled the trigger.
I know this was a long chapter. But there's a lot in here, so…
I've been asked to mention that apparently a Miranda fanbook is in the works. Just to let you guys to know about this project. You can collaborate with it if you want. I'm not sure whether I will or not. I'm willing to stomach nearly anything else so long as the Extended edition fixes the DLC and has some nod to her romance in it. Even just a shot of her staring into space wondering WTF after shep does his thing…
Anyway, they are currently receiving:
1) Letters. From the fans to the developers. There's also roleplaying letters, like from your Shepard to the devs.
2) Fanfic. They are receiving one-shots or excerpts from long series. ( if you guys have a favorite section from this one, point it out. I might send it in.)
3) Fanart.
There is a May 30th submission deadline. They can be delivered in the group in the Bioware forums (Miranda FanBook Group), the thread in the hold the line forum, or in the mail, though what the address is, I have no idea. PM 'Skllhrt' to find out.
Here's a link where you can get more information:
Www(dot)holdtheline(dot)com/threads/miranda-fan-book-project.1576/
What's needed is letters to support Miranda and let the writers team how her fanbase missed her during ME3.
Again, for myself, I think they did okay with her. I'm actually GLAD they didn't have another sex scene. She gets enough flak from Talimancers for just being eye-candy, and I thought the way they played her in ME3 got away from that, so it's fine by me. As much of a Miri fan as I am, the game has a bigger issue which needs solving. The mere existence of this story is my main protest, and it shouldn't have to be here.
But if you want, go ahead and contribute to the Miranda book. Perhaps it'll remind Bioware of just how invested we are in their creation. In case all those cupcakes didn't get the point across…