2195 CE, Tasmania, Earth (Present Day)
Corwin Leonov never held another white-collar or academic position after that, she'd made sure of it. Charged with corporate espionage and breach of trust, he'd spent most of a decade behind bars. As an end to the whole episode, she'd made personally sure the information he'd gotten from her and attempted to sell was wiped off all related databases.
Idly, Miranda wondered where Leonov was now, and then decided it wasn't something she cared about anymore. Drawing the halves of her coat closer to her body, she continued her inspection around the perimeter of the rented bungalow. The air was chilly and dry, searing her nostrils. Spring was settling in the southern hemisphere, and Tasmania had always tended to harsher winters and cooler summers, conditions a nuclear winter only made worse.
They'd settled in a quiet suburb of Queenstown, a tiny city located near the west coast of the island. Out here against the backdrop of a less cluttered horizon, the grey slate sky seemed to crush down even harder, sapping life and resolve from the place. Like everywhere else, prices on everything had sky-rocketed. It was a good thing finances was no longer one of their concerns. The bungalow they'd chosen as a base of operations had cost a bomb to rent, but it was easily-defensible with high walls and kinetic barriers already in place.
The place also came equipped with a security system, albeit civilian grade. Upgrading it to military standard was what Miranda had in mind as her practised eye took in strategic possibilities like chokepoints for trap installations and the best angles for surveillance coverage.
That was the nature of being a covert operative; acquiring certain habits along with a healthy dose of paranoia that eventually became as natural as breathing. Far worse was mental isolation that went on for months during undercover work, even beyond when she found herself unable to share work-related problems with anyone without the clearance.
As a rule, trust was chronically in short supply, and repositories for that trust even rarer. Her experience with Leonov had driven that home. The notion of any romantic liaison left a bad taste in her mouth after that. Since then, personal diversions had been few and far in between. Jacob had been a pleasant surprise, an anomaly in Cerberus's rank and file. But almost right from the start, she saw how it'd never work between them. He was a thoroughbred soldier incapable of subterfuge, an honest and idealistic man that she wished fate had spared.
The sound of the porch door sliding on its tracks made Miranda turn around. Shepard emerged holding two mugs, the aromatic whiff of authentic coffee enticing even from a distance. She accepted his offering with a murmur of thanks and cradled the mug for its welcoming warmth.
"How's the survey going? Figured out the number of cameras we'd need?" he asked conversationally.
"Not as many as I'd thought," she replied as she took a sip. He'd brewed it just right for her, dark, unmitigated by sugar or milk. "The landing pad at the back has its own surveillance. Beyond that, the clear fire zone around the compound cuts down a lot of blind spots."
"Good. That means we can stash some aside for emergencies."
They stood slightly apart, appreciating a beverage they haven't had in years. In the relative safety of the compound, Shepard had reverted to his ratty Alliance-issued pants and pullover. His blond hair and beard still took getting used to. Neither was long or thick enough to trim, which further accentuated his scruffy appearance. Coupled with that angular nose bridged by heavy brows and a wide mouth lined with lugubrious lips, it was easy to mistake him for a thug.
She studied him from the edge of her vision as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. It wasn't possible to keep from comparing him with Leonov. And that brought home how things would never have been possible between them if not for serendipity. Right from the start, they'd been uncomfortable bedfellows yoked together by hard circumstances, seeking respite from the impossible burdens of war.
She shook her head at the memory of those years in its entire bittersweet aftertaste. No, gone was gone. She had no desire to live those times again. Or the horror they entailed. Noticing her subtle disturbance, Shepard looked at her in concern.
"Is something wrong?"
Shepard's eyes were his saving grace. Deep-set and large, they were of a blue that matched hers, underpinning the animated intelligence and wide range of emotions he possessed. Similar to how the time they'd been together propelled him beyond emphatically not being her type into someone she'd been compelled to hang on to. And at the back of her mind, Miranda could only wonder if the notion of normalcy had defeated them when the threat of the Reapers failed to.
"It's nothing." She lied as she drank deeply from her mug. Inwardly, she chastened herself for thoughts she had no business entertaining. Oriana was her main concern and it'd been two weeks since the kidnapping. It'd become almost unthinkable what could happen in that time.
Unaware of her internal struggle, Shepard cleared his throat.
"How did things go at the lawyer's office by the way?"
He'd chosen not to accompany her, opting instead to remain in the shuttle during their brief stopover at Sydney. It'd partially been to avoid creating unnecessary traces of his whereabouts, and knowing him, not to further incriminate her with his presence.
"They verified my identity," she said, grateful for the distraction against spiralling thoughts. "Which means I can now step into Eldfell property legally. As well as make use of certain resources. The bulk of my inheritance is still escrowed, but I've begun the process of transferring it to an intergalactic bank."
It had stunned Miranda to realise the exact value of the assets involved. With the amount her father had left her, she could literally purchase entire planets or buy over galactic corporations. Even now, she was still reeling from the implications.
"I sold off some assets via proxy to net us some hard credits," she continued. "As for the confidential projects, I'll need to go to the tower in person to find out more. That didn't really come as a surprise. But I did manage to get detailed maps and structural blueprints of Eldfell properties around here."
As she said this, Shepard surveyed their surroundings before staring into his mug, making clear the implication that he finally understood the reason for their current luxury.
"I guess we've got you to thank for real coffee then. Among other things." he murmured.
She frowned, having the strangest feeling there was more to his words. But at this moment, a window opened and Shan poked his head out.
"Sir, ma'am? I'm done setting up the holovid projector. We can do the mission briefing now."
Shan dimmed the lights as the projector came to life. Miranda plugged in the data crystal and called up a gigantic map of western Tasmania. Manipulating the remote, she zoomed into an area of forty square kilometres around Eldfell holdings. On the lower right hand corner, she marked the location of Queenstown.
"Eldfell properties on Tasmania are primarily located on the west coast of the island. There are two, well, three focal points. This is the main tower complex which houses the research department, physics and biological labs." She clicked on the relevant spots as she explained. "The industrial complex is a kilometre away. Its primary function is to assemble mini fusion reactors for domestic use, although there're also independent fabrication plants to supply the tower with its esoteric needs."
She moved to mark another spot, triangulating the area with the tower and the industrial complex as the other two end points.
"The employee housing compound is here. It's for complex workers and personnel without the clearance to remain in the tower after office hours."
A furrow appeared between Shepard's eyes.
"I thought Eldfell-Ashland Energy specialises in eezo and nuclear energy? Why are there biological labs?"
"This is private property," Miranda explained. "My father's personal playground, where he developed projects that interested him. I was created in that tower, in the tanks within the labs. It's a unique and specific enough circumstance that there can be no doubt the message was referring to them."
Shan had a look of disquiet as he digested this. In contrast, Shepard gazed at her with an undeterminable expression.
"I did mention I never had a mother." She couldn't help defending herself self-consciously.
"I know." He agreed quietly. "And I'd guess as much. It's just...never mind. Go on."
"At any rate, I've been told all existing projects have been put on hold with a small technical team left behind to maintain ongoing ones. But the tower still has its full complement of security personnel to keep riff-raff like the paparazzi out. Plus a lethal security system that functions perfectly without human intervention. While it's our eventual focal point, I don't think we'll find Oriana there."
"Sorry, ma'am, but are you saying it's not possible they'd be at the tower?"
"I don't make that claim lightly, Shan, but yes. I've heard nothing to the contrary. And there've been a good number of quietly-publicised casualties over the years, mostly from attempted intrusions. Let's just say in this case, its bite lives up to its bark."
"This means we'll be looking at the complex or the living quarters then." Shepard crossed his arms." What's the status of those?"
Miranda called up the schematics of the industrial complex and the employee housing compound.
"Parts of the complex remain in operation to maintain ongoing orders. The independent fabrication facilities and related buildings are temporarily decommissioned. Patrols there are cursory at best. The layoff also means that up to half of the houses in the living compound are empty."
"Sounds like prime hiding spots." Shepard mused. "And good places to scout tomorrow."
"The complex will require two people to cover. Think you can handle the housing compound, Shan?" Miranda asked. "I've come up with the clearance and a cover identity for you to snoop around."
"It should be fine, ma'am." Shan hesitated. "But what makes you so sure they'll be at one of those two places?"
"Because we've established it's a trap that's meant to be sprung. If the tower is out of bounds, there's a good chance they'd have to lie in wait at the next most plausible location."
"But what if they aren't at either location?"
Shepard laughed and then lowered his brows in a predatory grin.
"Feeling lucky? Want to back it up on the table?"
Shan shot him a dubious look. In the past few days, Miranda had looked on with concealed amusement as both men whittled their free time on poker games with Shepard consistently clearing house.
"Face!" Shepard barked drill instructor-style.
Immediately, Shan's expression turned appropriately blank.
"Cut it out, both of you. Or I'm rescinding poker rights." She declared, knowing full well her smile made it an empty threat. Both Shepard and Shan grinned like little boys caught sharing a harmless secret.
"Finding Oriana is priority." she reminded them when the moment passed. "I hope she is in one of those two places. If not, I have every intention to use my access to the tower to draw the perp out." She switched on her omni-tool. "Shan, I'm sending you the official occupancy list. Start off with a house-to-house search. Keep a low profile and report if you find an anomaly."
"Gotcha, ma'am. I'll go finalise our supplies now."
Watching Shan disappear into the back of the bungalow, Miranda called up the industrial complex blueprint and motioned Shepard closer.
"The decommissioned area is located on the east side. We should make a two-pronged approach, infiltrate from the north and east, sweep the place and meet somewhere in the middle."
"What do those overlapping lines signify?"
"Which?"
He reached across to take the remote from her, making her heart skip a beat.
"These ones," he pointed out on the map. "Criss-crossing all the buildings."
"It's an anti-grav tube system for material transportation. The whole thing works as one system so it's live throughout the complex."
There was a glint in his eyes.
"Interesting. What's inside these storage areas?" The cursor moved to highlight a series of compartmentalised boxy buildings near the north side.
"Spare esoteric parts for the tower apparently."
He glanced at her, a roguish quirk to his mouth.
"Feeling lucky?"
She raised an amused eyebrow.
"Are you saying they'll be in the storage areas?"
"Large, open areas make for uncomfortable living spaces. Not to mention poor strategic options." Shepard scratched his beard thoughtfully. "They'll need somewhere to hold Oriana too. Don't think they'd waste time or risk exposure creating makeshift quarters when they can use existing facilities."
"And there'll be the fear that bunking inside a fabrication plant could blow up in your face. I get the reasoning. But I won't be so quick to make that bet. There's a series of storage facilities on the west side. We can't discount those."
"Hence your two-pronged approach," he echoed in understanding.
"That's right. I'll take the east side and head westward. You do the north-south sweep. Hopefully, we'll find them and then decide on our options after that."
He nodded as his eyes narrowed, committing map details to memory.
"Sounds good." He gestured at the dining table filled half-assembled electronic parts. "If we're done, I'd like to finish up with the camera assembly and sit on the details a bit."
The living room lights came on, and Miranda stood torn between assisting Shan and her concern for Shepard. She couldn't help but notice how within the span of a few seconds, he'd had turned subdued again. She was never the gambling sort, but her bet would've been on the extensive devastation they saw on their way here. The sight of endless wastelands and gutted cities had been sobering and she could only imagine what he felt seeing the consequences of the decisions made during the war.
And then there was that invisible wall that'd fallen between them since New Calcutta. In recent days, she'd become aware of a growing tension in their interactions. Maybe it was the build-up, knowing that they were nearing their objective. It grated her to the point where she wished she knew what it was. Perhaps the only way to find out was to plunge right in.
"You ought to give Shan a break. In your poker games." She said as she sat down on the opposite side of the narrow table. "Anything I can do to help?"
He looked up from threading a piece of a wire through a metal plate, and handed over another strand from the small pile.
"Could use more of the same length. And where's the fun if I give in to him?"
"He didn't ask to be here in the first place," she reminded him lightly as she unravelled wire from the main coil. "And you can be such a bully sometimes."
"Yes, ma'am," he murmured and then subsided into silence.
Suppressing her irritation, Miranda tried another tack.
"Don't you get started. Having Shan call me that all the time is bad enough."
"Well, you are in charge of this mission." Shepard pointed out diffidently. "But sorry, can't help you there. I've given up trying to stop him calling me 'sir' myself".
It was probably the best opening she was going to get.
"I can see why it'd be hard for him to make the change. He isn't the only one," she set down the coil of wire to clasp her hands. "John, have you thought of what you're going to do once this—mission is over?"
Fingers paused in mid-motion, he lifted his head to study her.
"I recall you asking me that before." he finally said.
"Which you failed to answer honestly," she pointed out evenly. "And we can both agree the question is no longer an academic exercise."
"I can't remain on Earth, that's for sure." Shepard muttered as he resumed work. "Nor do I want to. And we've established I haven't got a green thumb. Apart from that, I don't think I'll find welcome in any human-governed world anymore." She winced inwardly when he shook his head as if to rid of bad memories. "What about you? What are your plans?"
She was slightly taken aback to have that question returned at her.
"I'll be resigning my commission with the Alliance, I think," she said after some thought. "Like you, Earth has lost its meaning for me. It used to be I wanted to stay as far away as possible from my father." Plucking a strand of wire, she began straightening it out idly. "I suppose I've just been gone for too long. None of that is relevant now, like our little holiday in New Canton."
Shepard lowered his head, his hands slowly clenching on the metal plate until his knuckles were white with tension.
"Was New Canton just a holiday to you?" He asked in a deceptively mild voice.
Suddenly, Miranda wished she could retract her words. That disquiet came in the wake of realisation over the growing unease between them. Apparently, sexual dormancy finally waved the white flag after a little more than a month of simmering tensions. It was like back on the Normandy again—high-stress situations plus constant interaction. The feeling was familiar, except this time, aggravated several times by their familiarity with each other and years of enforced abstinence.
The room suddenly felt too small, too hot.
Abruptly, she rose and made a beeline for the porch door and the cold air beyond.
Shepard emerged a few minutes later, but thankfully, kept a respectful distance. Evening was settling in, belied by the false brightness the grey-slate sky brought about. Rising a mind-boggling two kilometres above the flat rolling plains that characterised this part of Tasmania, the Eldfell Tower was visible even from this distance.
Miranda crossed her arms and inclined her head at the hazy silhouette.
"I jumped off the top of that tower at sixteen. It was the only way to escape from my father's control. I used my biotics to slow down my descent, biotics surgically grafted into my body over a period of one year. And that was after undergoing intensive retroactive genetic modifications for other enhancements. Each bout of 'treatment' so debilitating I had to spend a month recovering before they put me under again."
She delivered all this in a clipped and clinical tone, like giving a weather update. A glance revealed Shepard listening intently with a serious expression.
"What struck me is these last two weeks have shown how little we know about each other. And I'm not just referring to what happened during the war."
"There was never much time or opportunity for all that before." His quiet voice drifted in. "What we're doing right now—I want to think it is making a difference."
"But is it too little too late? Look at us. We can't even talk to each other without stumbling over closet skeletons."
The sound of his footsteps heralded his presence beside her. With irritation, she forced her eyes not to linger on breath of his shoulders, or the movement of his throat as he swallowed.
"I'm done with secrets, Miranda." He crossed his arms, which didn't help her concentration one bit either. "I'm not about to give up, even if I have to stub every toe getting there. It's clear we've both changed and if we have to start from square one, I'm fine with that. The question is are you?"
"That's doesn't change the fact that the trust between us is gone. What's to stop us from choosing what to say and what to hide because it's convenient?" She countered in deep frustration. "Like why on earth didn't you tell me about your problems in the first place?"
A brief sigh was all her warning before Shepard stepped across her vision to lay hands on her shoulders.
"I want you to answer this truthfully." He looked at her intently. "Were my fears groundless? That if you were to know I'm waiting to go on trial, a trial that could drag for years, with lifetime imprisonment at the end of it—you'd up and leave?"
She tore her stunned gaze away.
"I—I don't know."
"Don't know, or don't want to answer?"
"I don't know." Miranda repeated, shaking her head.
Slowly, almost regretfully, she felt his hands slip off to fall to his sides. She took the chance to step back, put a distance between them.
"The truth is if you'd asked me ten years ago, I'd have said you are right. But now—I can't answer that question."
It was singularly the scariest confession she'd made. But he deserved it no matter that she still had trouble reconciling personally.
"How could I have known?" Shepard's sigh seemed to come from a great distance. "Look, I know I'm not making a good case for myself here, but if truth is prelude to building trust again, you'll get it from me."
And with that, the ball was in her court. There were no guarantees, but that had always been the case between them. It used to be she could always take Shepard at his word. Until the very last. And now that he'd laid out his fears, she found that she couldn't in good faith blame him.
But it wasn't enough. Not after he'd knocked down one of the constants of their relationship.
"Tell me, did the notion you'll be escaping from going on trial if you helped me come up at all?"
He didn't flinch from her piercing gaze.
"It did. But only after I made up my mind. I still can't say if it's right or wrong. All I know is I'm ready to accept the consequences. But that's neither here nor there, they've got nothing to do with why I chose to come."
"So why did you come?"
He ducked his head and seemed to take inordinate interest in the scruff marks on his boots.
"Because I can't stand by and do nothing when you're in need." He finally looked up in pained shyness. "Not after what I said."
Embarrassed, Miranda turned away.
No one should have to undergo a confession like that. And she couldn't help but be moved. Shepard had a charm of his own but subtlety was nowhere in the mix. He bludgeoned rather than coaxed, displaying flashes of naivety and idealism that'd both vexed and amused her. Yet despite his talent at rousing, sometimes wince-worthy speeches, what always stayed with her was the way actions spoke the loudest for him.
Perhaps that was no longer true. On her part, she couldn't help her own trip down memory lane, back to the person she'd been. Things were so clear cut then. A transgression was to be meted out by zero tolerance. Neither regret nor second chances had a place or relevance in her life. Somewhere along the line, that changed for her. Maybe her faith that he hadn't lost those qualities was another one of those changes. Did she dare trust herself to act on that newfound faith?
"No more assumptions or preconceptions. We can't afford those anymore. But let's make one thing clear: this has no place until Oriana is safe. I won't compromise on that."
"Of course." He thrust his hands into his pant pockets. "And thank you."
She didn't trust herself so she gave an awkward jerk of a nod.
"I ought to get back to work. Cameras don't assemble themselves."
Shepard turned to head back in. At the last moment, she reached out to grab his arm. He raised his brows in enquiry.
"I... I'm glad you're here. It makes things that much easier."
He smiled acknowledgement and slipped past her. In the passage of his wake, she finally allowed herself to breath in the masculine scent of his body and relish how it set her extremities tingling.