Changing Fate

Chapter Twenty One: The Smart and the Dead

I don't own BioWare

DUNSINANE CITY

BEKENSTEIN

2185

The skinny salarian swung his pistol up, keeping it trained on the entrance to the alley. He struggled to get his breathing back under control, to stay silent enough that his pursuer wouldn't hear him.

"Y'know Ish..."

The information broker swung around violently as a familiar voice spoke into his ear. A fist met him mid-turn. Teeth dropped out of his mouth as he fell back against the wall.

"...I really wouldn't recommend a guy like you using a gun," Jacob Taylor finished his sentence as he stood over Ish. "Any idiot can use a gun. Guns make you stupid."

"Jacob...please..." Ish was silenced by the strip of duct tape that Jacob slapped across his mouth.

"I prefer duct tape to guns," Jacob explained. "Duct tape makes you smart. It also gives us a chance to talk, one on one, nice and personal."

Grabbing Ish by the collar of his suit (the material now reeking of salarian sweat and fear), Jacob propped him up against the wall. Grabbing the salarian's jaw, Jacob forced the alien to look him in the eye.

"Now, Ish, do I look like a bitch?"

Ish shook his head furiously. Jacob cocked an eyebrow with an affected curiosity. "Then why..." he drove his kneecap up into Ish's stomach. "Did you try to fuck me over like one? Wasn't I paying you enough, Ish? Did you think Hock could make you a better offer?"

Ish tried to shake his head again. Jacob responded with sharp jab to the salarian's throat. Ish fell to his knees, gasping for air. He looked up at Jacob, trying to plead for mercy with nothing but his eyes.

"Don't be a baby," Jacob eyed him with contempt. "I only bruised your air pipe. It's not fatal."

Ish watched with mounting horror as Jacob drew a very large pistol from his jacket and deliberately screwed a silencer onto the muzzle. The dark skinned Cerberus assassin spoke again. "But this pistol, Ish? It's very fatal. You shouldn't have tried to warn Hock."

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Miranda was used to taking advantage of people whose arrogance outweighed their intelligence. All who tried to match their wits and skills against hers had achieved either bankruptcy or early graves. It was something entirely new to be working with someone who was almost as smart as they thought they were. Almost.

Shepard was an educated man, that much was evident. Someone who thought almost as much he acted. He demonstrated a savvy in his actions that did not match up with the way he spoke. When Miranda had been posing as a news photographer on Arcturus, attempting to steal Alliance military secrets for a highly paying turian Spectre, she had heard the way the Marines in the bars lifted toasts to his name. Shepard was a member of the N7 killer elite, famed for shooting first and not giving a fuck about the consequences.

So it surprised her that when confronted by a group of screaming vorcha, Shepard listened politely instead of shooting the filthy vermin's head off.

"Collectors want plague! You all die! Then Collectors make us strong! So we break machines!" The gaping maw of the vorcha's mouth, filled with jagged teeth, reminded her of the machines at Pragia...danger, pain, screaming madness. She gave herself a mental slap, this was not the time or place to remember that place.

"Well, maybe we can come to some understanding?" Antony asked hopefully. "You like breaking machines? It just so happens that I'm going up against thousands of machines, hundreds of thousands. So, if you join me, you can break as many machines as you like."

The vorcha were suddenly very quiet. Finally, the one carrying a flamethrower spoke. "Is the human being serious?"

"Not sure." The leader scratched his head. "He doesn't seem smart."

"Should we kill him?"

Before they could finish that particular conversation, Miranda decided it was time to speed things up. Was she getting paid to fight? More than enough. Enough to stand around and listen to her boss attempt to recruit some filthy, rat-like guns for hire? Not nearly enough.

Reaching out, she suspended the pyro trooper in a pull field. As soon as the fuel tank on the back rotated her way, she released an incendiary burst from her omni tool. The resulting explosion threw the other three vorcha off their feet.

"WAIT!" Shepard yelled, trying to halt Miranda's charge. "WATCH OUT FOR THE..."

Something struck Miranda between the shoulders, a set of explosions went off around her. Her biotics faltered and failed, and then everything went dark.

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NORMANDY SR-2

EXECUTIVE OFFICER'S QUARTERS

"...so you don't want to try that with a krogan," Jack explained. "But if you work the blade in right under the fringe, they'll tell you anything you want to know. You have to work to get them to just shut up."

"Great," Kelly looked slightly ill. "And...how does that relate to what we were talking about?"

"I'm just saying that humans don't have a point like that," the Operative explained with exaggerated kindness. "We don't have a pressure point that makes us spew our guts. We crack under torture, but that's a long and arduous process."

"Again...I have no idea what you're getting at."

Jack leaned back in her chair. "I'm saying that you're not going to get anything out of me, Yeoman. I am emotionally, physically and mentally stable. I don't need a shrink. You'd be better off taking care of Mess Sergeant Gardner's repressed grief issues."

"Ma'am, this session is more important than you think," Kelly sighed with exasperation. "You have trust issues, problems with anger and impulse control, and an emotional disconnect that could prove...

The XO held up a hand. "That will be all Yeoman."

Kelly knew that she should stop. Knew that she should get up, turn around and walk away. She wasn't the dominant female on the ship. That position belonged to the XO. Kelly knew behavioural patterns like she knew the gritty childhood details about most of the ship's crew. A woman like Jacqueline Harper didn't accept help...because she was already convinced that she didn't need it. She literally didn't give a flying fuck what anyone else thought...unless it was a very good tactical suggestion.

But sometimes, when Kelly Chambers got pushed around enough, she pushed right back. "Ma'am! This is something that we will talk about, or as the Normandy's mental health expert, I will go straight to the Chief Medical Officer and advise her to relieve you of duty."

"You are looking for issues that do not exist." Operative Harper replied, her voice growing ice cold. "You can trace my behaviour back to a philosophy I have. If you let someone get close, they just need a shorter knife. In my line of work, a healthy sense of paranoia is..."

"There is nothing healthy about paranoia," Kelly planted her hands on the desk. "I think I know what's wrong. I read about the Arabis Incident. What Operative Tam did..."

"Don't!" Jack's tone was one decibel above a growl. "Don't mention that name in my presence again. Now get out!"

This time, Kelly obeyed.

Jack bent her head slightly, her fingers balled into fists and her blood pumping. Just the mention of his name was enough to make her like this. That damned name. Matthew Tam. Operative Matthew Tam.

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TURIAN HIERARCHY OUTPOST

CODENAME 'ARABIS'

2178

"So Jackie..." Tam swung left, his pistol trained on the empty hallway. "What do you need to remember when dealing with turians?"

In the vents above him, Operative Jacqueline Harper, or 'Jackie' as she preferred to be called, was busy removing an access panel. She frowned for a few seconds, concentrating on her recent training session with the older operative. "They work on routine. Rigid schedule. Learn the schedule and you've already won."

"Correct, maybe there's hope for you yet," Tam checked his motion trackers. Nothing. "Are you in the system?"

"Almost..." Jack began soldering through the external security nodule. "About three more minutes."

"I'll go plant the charges on the reactor. Meet me at the main computer core in ten minutes, don't be late."

"No problem, I'm there in seven."

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Jack snapped back into reality as she heard the commotion outside. Storming through the doors, she was greeted by the stench of human blood. Zaeed and Shepard were carrying a field stretcher, burdened down by the bleeding form of Lawson. Goto and a salarian were on either side of the stretcher, seemingly administering first aid.

"Shepard...what the hell?"

"Rocket launchers on the ledges," Antony rasped. "Lawson never saw them. Shrapnel wounds, concussion, minor burns. If her barrier had been down..."

"Shepard. Patient falling into shock," the salarian stuck a syringe of medi-gel into the woman's shoulder. "Must operate immediately. Am skilled trauma surgeon. Need assistant, preferably doctor. Nurse would also help."

"Dr. Chakwas has expertise in battlefield injuries," Shepard passed his end of the stretcher to Rolston. "Operative Harper?"

"I'll handle the rest," Jack was already removing her suit's gloves as she followed the stretcher into the med-bay. "Dr. Solus I presume?"

"Presume correct," the salarian briskly inserted his hands into the sterilization field. His head darted around, eyes blinking as they adjusted to the harsh, sterile light. "Excellent facility. Modern equipment. Advanced technology. Should have no trouble."

Chakwas was running triage. "Dr. Solus, Miss Lawson's concussion is dangerous, but not fatal. Your attention is needed on Mr. Vakarian."

"Understood. Miss Harper, please assist Miss Lawson," Mordin whipped around, pulling on three fingered gloves and retrieving a sonic scalpel from the tray with the easy familiarity of a practiced physician. "Recommend dermal regenerator for any brain tissue damage, quick extraction for shrapnel, medi-gel for burns."

"She's a very strong biotic, a dermal regenerator will just damage her implants," Jack grabbed a syringe. "Fifty cc's of carthoxalin will deal with the concussion."

"Carthoxalin? Good choice, good choice," Mordin didn't even flinch as he pulled back the bandages covering Garrus' face. "Ah, extensive damage to right mandible. Respiratory system compromised. Will need to supplant with cybernetics. Need engineer."

Chakwas twisted towards EDI's holoprojector. "EDI, I want Engineer Daniels up here STAT!"

Jack flicked the capsule several times to clear out the air bubbles. Peeling back the collar of the convict's suit, she aligned the needle with the main artery...until a hand grabbed her wrist and held it dead in place, exerting almost bone-crushing force on the joint.

Lawson stared up at her, eyes filled with an almost childlike terror. "Don't."

"Let go of me," Jack snapped irritably. She didn't have time for this.

"Please," Miranda was almost begging. Pain and confusion were the only two emotions in her voice. "No more needles. Please."

"It's medication for your concussion." The XO was unsure of why she was even trying to explain. "I'm trying to help you."

The convict stared up at her, suspicion replacing fear. "You promise?"

Jack hesitated. Helping you now...so that you can be useful to me later. "I promise."

The injured woman slowly nodded her assent. Jack injected the solution. "You're going to sleep for a while. Understand?"

"Understood," Miranda closed her eyes. "You should understand that my fee just went up."

Jack smiled in faint amusement. "We'll work out terms later."

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BRIEFING ROOM

FOUR HOURS LATER

"Well, I'd 'ave never believed it if I hadn't seen it," Zaeed ran the edge of a long knife over a pocket flint. "That girl Daniels just took the specs Mordin gave her and just made it. What's the girl doing as a greaseneck?"

"Not a clue," Shepard tested the edge of the table. "I just want to know if they work. 'Cause if Garrus dies, then..."

The opening of the door silenced him. Zaeed froze, staring at the semi-monstrous figure standing in the doorway. Bandages soaked in sapphire blood, with a large metal plate screwed onto the right side of his face, Garrus Vakarian looked like a monster from a child's nightmare. He also looked like he was in pain.

"Well..." Garrus forced the words out with a slur, the cybernetic side of his face affecting his pronunciation. "No one gave me a mirror. How does it look?"

"Fuck ugly." Zaeed responded immediately.

"Fuck you. Shepard?"

"Really fucking ugly." Shepard confirmed. "But in your case, I'd say it's a compliment."

"Fuck you too." Garrus limped forward. "So...I heard snippets of conversation. You're out for the Collectors? Working for Cerberus too? That's nice. Real classy."

"I've never made the claim to class."

"No, but I thought loyalty to the Alliance meant something to you." Garrus' left mandible parted in a turian expression of confusion. The right stayed where it was. It gave him a lopsided look. "It was one of your very few redeeming qualities. What does Anderson think about it? Or Alenko? They were your friends."

"Anderson gave his approval. I don't know about Alenko, I haven't seen him since I...got back."

"Got back? You've been somewhere?"

"Yeah...dead." Shepard admitted sheepishly. "Dead. I was absent from this mortal coil for about two years."

"I see," Garrus nodded.

Antony paused. "Wait...you...don't think that's weird? People generally don't come back from the dead."

"Shepard, I'm not in any kind of position to judge your motives, reasons and state of life," the turian shrugged. "Especially not after what went down on Omega. Right now I need ride out of here. Can you give me a lift?"

"Where to?"

"I was hoping you would know," Garrus admitted. "If you want a good rifleman, then I'm ready to help. Collectors taking down human colonies, fate of the galaxy at state, handful of desperate fighters out to stop them. Sounds like old times."

Antony crossed his arms. "You hated those old times."

"I hated you, not the mission," Garrus shot back. "Right at this moment, if I had a better option I'd take it. But I don't...I've got nothing."

It would be incorrect to say that Anthony B. Shepard felt pity for the turian at that particular moment. Sympathy for anyone wasn't a trait he had fostered. But right there and then, Shepard felt like he actually understood him.

"You've got your rifle. It's in the armoury," Shepard gestured to the wall. "We're heading to Korlus. You fit to provide overwatch from the Kodiak?"

"Just give me a box of thermal clips and some targets," Garrus straightened and gave a grudging nod towards Shepard. "Thanks. For the whole 'Rescue and Patch Up' thing."

"Let's not make a habit of it."

And the moment was gone.

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INDEPENDENT COLONY HORIZON

IERA SYSTEM, SHADOW SEA

2300 HOURS, LOCAL TIME

Representative Jacques was already waiting for the Alliance ship when it touched down. The arrival of a full platoon of Alliance N7s was big news on a colony like Horizon. Its independence was widely recognised, as was its disdain for the Alliance Navy. There was even talk of the colony withdrawing its signature from the Colonial Charter, an unthinkable for any colony that wished to receive Alliance aid in the event of an attack.

Jacques' orders were very clear. Greet the troops kindly, offer them every convenience available, then get them off the planet before the locals rioted.

The ramp on the light frigate opened, and for a second, Jacques was blinded by the bright light. When he could see again, he was greeted by the spectacle of two heavily armoured Mako Infantry Fighting Vehicles rolling toward him. Walking next to them was a lightly armoured human in his early thirties. Accompanying him was a thin woman with greying hair and a large man who looked as though he existed on a diet of protein and barbells.

"Staff Commander Alenko?" Jacques extended his hand. "On behalf of Horizon colony, I am pleased to welcome..."

Kaidan pushed past him. "Representative Jacques, I'm not here on a PR mission so let's not waste time. How about we get to the point?"

Jacques found himself left behind, and had to hurry to keep up with the taller man's stride. "The point...? Commander, you have to understand, we are not an Alliance colony. Your presence here is...unorthodox."

"But fully permissible under the Colonial Charter," the woman spoke up. "We are legally entitled to establish ourselves on Horizon."

"Only at the invitation of the colonists," Jacques tried to gain the legal high ground. "There is no current threat to the security..."

"I'm afraid you're wrong," Kaidan turned to him. "I received orders from Alliance Fleet Command six hours ago. ONI has received actionable intelligence that Horizon is under imminent threat from either Cerberus or the Collectors."

"But which...?"

"Uncertain," Kaidan shrugged. "ONI wouldn't tell me their source, but they're concerned about his credibility. Not my job to be a spy, I just act on what they give me. My job is to establish a protection grid for all major settlements and organise your militia to fight off an attacking force."

"But we're not equipped to fight a war," Jacques was growing more disturbed by the second.

"You will be," Kaidan nodded at the burly man. "Lieutenant Vega, please escort the Representative back to the Administration building. Keep him out of my way."

Vega hustled the administrator out of sight. Kaidan turned to the older woman. "So, Commander Rizzo, what do you have for me?"

"ONI has very little at the moment," the spook informed him. "Admiral Hackett and Councillor Anderson are playing this one close to the chest."

"What about the rumours? Can you confirm whether Shepard is working for Cerberus?" Kaidan pressed.

"Currently, ONI isn't even sure if it's really Shepard," Commander Rizzo looked embarrassed. "Your orders are simple, Commander Alenko. If the Collectors attack, then kill them all and count the bodies. If Commander Shepard leads a Cerberus attack on this colony...you are to remove him as a threat."

"Remove?"

"With extreme prejudice."

Kaidan was silent. "I see."

"Will that be a problem?" Rizzo was not an unkind woman. "I wouldn't want you to be compromised by fighting your old mentor."

The younger man paused, as if recalling a previous event. "No, it won't be a problem. If Shepard's really gone rogue...I'll take him down."

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A/N: For the record this won't be an S/S romance between Jack/Miri. I've been there, done that, and want to explore some other pairings.