Chapter Twenty-One
It's starting to look like I have no real say in where I go, lately. I've managed to wind up at the Alliance base on Bachjret Ward, after all. However, I'm not in some grand war room, assisting with plans for the big push against Cerberus. I'm in the smallest, stuffiest room that 'John' could find, awaiting my interrogation.
The armed guard by the door watches me warily even as I shift a little in my chair, hoping to find a comfortable position despite my arms being cuffed behind my back. She'd probably have a colleague if the space allowed it. As far as I can tell, this is a repurposed store cupboard. Wonderful...
After a while, John enters, sporting a split lip to match my own and displaying enough cold contempt that I'd swear the sudden draught wasn't entirely due to the door opening. In an unhurried manner, he politely greets the guard and takes his place at the opposite side of the thick metal desk. Then, leaning back in the chair, he crosses his arms and stares at me for a few moments.
Already impatient, I take it upon myself to break the silence. "Nice office. Did you get a promotion?"
"How long are you going to keep this up?" he asks wearily, shaking his head.
"It must be embarrassing to have chosen a room this small and still not be the smartest one in it."
"I'm not your enemy, Lawson," he sighs, moving his hands onto the table and locking his fingers together.
"You're certainly not my friend. I saved your life! Whereas you've shot at me once, arrested me twice, and pursued me endlessly." Although he claims different, my voice slips into that low register I reserve for my true enemies. "And now you have the nerve to walk in here without mention of my sister."
"She's fine," he answers nonchalantly.
"Where is she?"
"She's safe. Don't worry."
"She has nothing to do with this. You already have me."
"Ah, but I don't have your cooperation."
"I gave you the Illusive Man's base of operations. Almost got myself killed in the process. How much more cooperation do you need?"
From my agitated movement, a strand of hair falls across my face. I'm forced to try and shake it away, seeing as I don't have a free hand. In doing so, I detect a small hint of amusement from John. He's lucky I'm restrained and having even the slightest movement watched by his guard, because I'd do a hell of a lot more than punch him right now.
"I need to verify that you're not working some other angle. Turning on Cerberus after twenty years of loyal service?" He shakes his head. "Just doesn't sit right with me."
"That's not Cerberus. Not the one I joined. It was meant to protect humanity, serve its interests and prepare for the Reapers when no one else would. I can't claim that everything we did was of benefit, but I always worked towards those goals. What I did was for the greater good." No use mentioning how my own research into a control chip had paved the way for the work that my father had been doing.
"For as long as I can remember, Cerberus has done lots of things in the name of the greater good. A lot of stupid, dangerous, lethal things."
"You want me to show some remorse? Is that it?" I knew what they'd done. I wasn't personally responsible for those missteps and aggressive displays of power, but I'd let them happen, convinced myself that the long-term benefits would be worth it. As long as I kept doing good work, the bad performed by others didn't matter so much.
"I just want an explanation," he says plainly.
"They crossed a line." One I'd already redrawn many times before. "You saw Sanctuary. Even the Illusive Man is indoctrinated, I'm sure of it. Cerberus needs to be stopped."
He raises a sceptical eyebrow. "Simple as that?"
I nod faintly. "Simple as that."
"So I assume there's an equally simple explanation for the last time you were here?"
"A simple misunderstanding. One I aim to...clarify."
"Mind clarifying who received that hefty sum of Alliance funds?"
Ah, Ryn, my nervy salarian information broker. Good luck trying to follow that money trail.
"I planted a tracer on Kai Leng. To ensure that you don't lose the signal from something so small, wherever it goes in the galaxy, requires someone with enough connections. And that person requires payment." I can see he's mulling it over in his mind. Shrugging cockily, I add, "I paid no more than the standard rate."
"All right, good, we're getting somewhere," he says, sounding satisfied that the explanation adds up, before his face drops and his words turn blunt again. "Next question: where's the stolen intel?"
I take a moment to look him in the eye, softening my expression; anything to communicate my honesty as much as possible, given that I'm unable to utilise other significant aspects of body language. I suppose that's my own fault; without the handcuffs, I'd expect a closed fist over an open palm if I were him.
"I don't know...but I intend to find out," I state sternly, perhaps revealing that I know more than I care to let on.
If John has realised, he's too caught up in his own bluster to acknowledge it. "So this 'simple misunderstanding' came about because of what? Your own stupidity? Extremely sensitive data was stolen."
I swallow a lungful of air along with my pride before huffing my answer. "I was the patsy here. I made the mistake. There, I admit it. Does that satisfy you?"
"Should it?" he asks calmly, shifting back from what must have been a calculated outburst. "There was only a small window of opportunity after you cracked the security. If I'm to assume you weren't directly responsible, that still takes a degree of coordination. Either way, there's a second party involved. So, we'll start with the most likely candidate: who got you into the base?"
Shepard.
"No one," I reply blankly.
There wouldn't be any repercussions for Shepard if I did tell the truth, but I couldn't bear him finding out what I'd done. It's bad enough that Oriana's been caught up in this mess. I can fix this myself. I will fix this myself.
John gives me another one of those frustrated sighs. "You look like crap, you're tired and I know you don't want to be here a second longer than you have to. Problem is, your heroics on Horizon don't change the fact that I have more than enough to keep you here for the time being...if I'm so inclined." He leans forward. "And, believe it or not, I'd like to help you. But not without something in return. If I'm to make sure my own house is in order, I need to know: who's your inside man?"
He's right: I am tired, and starting to long for the numbness of Dr. Chakwas' painkillers. That doesn't mean I'm just going to roll over though. I need some answers of my own anyway.
Ignoring his question, I begin my own enquiry. "The tracer I gave you. You took it to Zada Ban..."
"I sent a lot of men there, ready to engage Cerberus forces. A lot of men who could've been helping against Reaper forces. We found the weapons facility...eventually. Abandoned. Another thing you got wrong."
"And they weren't followed at all?"
He shakes his head, pleased, as if I were relying on it being the opposite answer.
If the place really had been evacuated and no hit squad came after the tracer, it means someone tipped them off.
Erin.
I'd intended to confront her myself; tie up that loose end, away from prying eyes. Whether she was truly helping or not, she had become a liability both to me and Cerberus. At least I'd show more mercy. But could I hand her over to the Alliance? It's not as if I have much choice, and trading my freedom for hers seems fair. Plus, I wouldn't have been so sought after if they had managed to follow the tracer back to its true owner.
"So, I give up my 'inside man' and I'm free to go. Simple as that?" I ask, the cynicism bleeding into my voice.
He nods sincerely. "Simple as that."
"I don't buy it."
His tone becomes a little more pleasant, but honestly so, and without that hint of arrogance that usually accompanies it. "If I'm straight with you, that little stunt at Sanctuary was enough to win over the higher-ups in the Alliance."
"Perhaps they'll build a statue of me on the Citadel," I remark drily. "But you're not convinced?"
"This was never personal, Lawson. I think you got in over your head. All I need is your source, then I'll make my judgement."
He's dedicated and professional, I'll give him that. Not many would have been able to track me across the galaxy, even fewer would have offered any sort of deal in the first place. It would have been much simpler to try and kill me on sight. And he's taken the punch in his stride; he knew how to rile me. Chances are, he could get more reliable intel from Erin.
"All right. I'll cooperate, but while we're showing our cards, I want to know: who sold me out?"
"You wouldn't know them."
"Give me some names, I'll see what catches," I propose sarcastically.
The words trigger his memory. He smiles. "Scuttlebutt."
"It was worth a shot," I finish.
Stepping through those old-fashioned, big wooden doors, I enter Erin's office a little more reservedly than perhaps I should. Not being in control of the situation always makes me uncomfortable, and I'm tired of this routine. So tired. John agreeing to stay back and let me run this my way first is only a small consolation.
Inside, it's as if Erin hasn't moved since I last saw her, except maybe to change clothes and dim the lights. She's behind her ill-matched desk, working her way through the liquor cabinet—onto the whiskey now, it seems. A nearby lamp doesn't offer a warm glow, serving only to emphasise her drained features. She's looking even worse than before.
Without diverting any more attention than necessary from her task, she greets me sourly. "I must've seen you more in the past few months than in the previous couple of decades."
She's probably right. I'd mostly avoided her in the intervening years. Ever since she found me that day on the beach I'd always held onto that bitterness, pushing it to one side when it came to business but never doing anything to resolve my feelings. Now look at us.
"Erin, you've been selling me half a story. Remember what I told you last time? I want answers."
"Don't we all?" she muses miserably. The response confirms one thing at least: her mood. She's running cold today. Ice cold.
I continue my approach, right up to the desk, where I stay silent, arms hanging at my side. I'd managed to get some rest on the way here, which went some way towards alleviating the muscle ache, but it did nothing to calm my thoughts.
After a moment, Erin lifts her eyes to examine me. The worst of my injuries are hidden, just like my own emotions right now, but even she can tell something's not right. "Miranda, what's going on?"
"I should ask the same of you. Those names you passed on? False lead."
"Well, that's all I've got. So if you'd kindly leave me in peace..."
I slam a fist down on the desk, startling her, causing some of the drink to leap from her glass. "You set me up! I want to know why."
She doesn't appear flustered by the deliberate outburst, but sits up straight, offended in response. "Miranda, I have no idea what you mean."
"Oh, don't play dumb. What's Cerberus planning?"
"I don't know," she insists, setting her drink down. "Perhaps you'd better explain the situation."
"I just need your side of things. I get the feeling I've been led in a merry little dance and I won't be leaving until somebody pays the piper," I threaten.
She gives me a patronising look. "Really, do you think I'm some sort of mastermind? I'm trying to look out for you, Miranda." She grabs and finishes her drink with a strong swig and immediately shifts focus to pouring another. I wait, sensing she has more to say. "The galaxy's not out to get you. I know that's how your father raised you, but if you didn't keep everyone at arm's length maybe you'd realise it."
She knows those words would irk me.
"I'm not like my father," I feel compelled to assert. I'm alive, for one.
My comment receives a doubtful look from Erin before she continues. "They're watching my every move, Miranda. I'm stuck in the middle, trying to balance my 'loyalties'. Cerberus wants you dead, nothing more. I managed to convince them you could be of use. If I gave you the run-around, it was to spare you from the firing line, from people like Kai Leng. It's the best I could do. There's your answer."
It would appear she hasn't been paying attention to the news, or at least the details that the Alliance were willing to divulge. If she's telling the truth, that would account for why it was hard to pin down her allegiances. This revelation is beginning to trouble me.
"I don't need people looking out for me. You should've told me. You should've jumped ship," I argue.
"And go where?" She buries her nose in her glass, drinking deep. "Besides, I have no one. Better I stay and try to do something useful. In time, they told me, I'd get a role at Sanctuary, looking after human refugees. That would've been nice... but it sounds like that's gone to hell as well. So, here I am."
The realisation hits like a knife to the heart, and a feeling of dread takes hold. That explains it. She really has no idea about the greater schemes of Cerberus. And she probably doesn't know anything about the stolen data either. In trying to help, she'd been used just like I had. That leaves a lot of loose ends.
And the worst bit is that John overheard this confession.
"I wish you hadn't said that," I mutter, hanging my head low. Erin looks at me, puzzled.
As I suspected he would, John picks that moment to make his presence known, appearing at my back with a couple of Alliance soldiers following behind. He doesn't step between us, and wears a blank expression while remaining perfectly silent. He's still respecting my wishes to take the lead.
"Who the bloody hell are you?" Erin demands in a loud croak, slamming her glass down and shooting to her feet upon spotting them.
"I'm sorry, Erin. I couldn't be sure you weren't working against me. They're Alliance Intelligence," I explain, barely able to look her in the eye.
If her hands are as dirty as she fears, they'll find out. The best I can do for her now is find the ones responsible and convince the Alliance of her worth. My work is never done.
"Oh, Miranda..." she bemoans, sounding like a disappointed parent. "How long are you going to carry that weight? So bloody single-minded. With or against? You sound just like-"
Knowing what's coming, I interrupt. "I found my father, Erin. He was on Sanctuary. I'll spare you the details of what was happening there - of what happened there – and just tell you that I found Oriana."
"Miranda, I didn't know..."
We share a mournful stare as I suppress the impulse to cry, remembering the techniques I'd learned as a Cerberus agent.
Why couldn't she have been allied with my father? Things would be so much easier...
"It's all right," I assure her, filling the silence more than anything. My hands start to quiver and I tuck them behind my back, which I then feel the need to straighten, giving me the overly formal appearance of a soldier standing at ease.
"Oriana is safe?" she asks hopeful. I nod despondently. "Good. That's good," she says with a faint voice.
"I'll fix this," I try and reassure her before saying my farewell, the words almost sticking in my throat.
I turn and head towards the washed out whiteness of the lobby, while the Alliance guards take it as their cue to move in. Passing John, I see him open his mouth to say something to me. Whether it's to gloat or pity, I don't care.
"Not a word," I warn him, without breaking step. He gets the message.
I deserve to be alone.
A/N: Another 'feel good' chapter, I think you'll agree. I promise the next one will be cheerier.
Big thanks to Awska, Seracen Beta and sunzeng for the feedback. All were most hopeful in different ways, and the chapter benefitted greatly. I highly recommend you check out their own pieces on the site as well.
And, of course, thank you to everyone else who's still reading!