A/N: So, Jacob's loyalty mission. I know one of the audio logs gave me the mega creeps. Just a heads up.

Miranda noticed Shepard stifling a yawn as they climbed from the shuttle to the dirt of Aeia. Jacob planted his hands on his hips, dark eyes narrowing as he took in a deep breath of the damp, coastline air. The wreckage of the Hugo Gernsback lay ahead of them, waves slapping against the ruined sides. Rust and what Miranda assumed to be the planet's equivalent of algae obscured the letters, making the name read something more like EERNS ACK.

Shepard turned and grinned. "New paint job idea?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. Shepard had been sleeping even worse over the past few days, if the dark circles hovering under bloodshot eyes were any indication of her sleeping habits. Unsurprising. As if it weren't enough to be facing a possible suicide mission, the damn woman had made it her personal responsibility to make sure the crew's last wishes were taken care of.

A cool breeze swept across the ground, contrasting the warm blast and roar of the shuttle lifting off again behind them. The clicks of their gun and ammo checks were lost in the noise, but soon the quietness of the uninhabited planet blanketed them again.

"I have run a scan of the ship," EDI's voice informed them through the comm link, causing Shepard to jolt. "I detect no life signs. But there may be useful information or technology still inside."

"Copy that," Shepard answered, rubbing across her eyes with one hand. "Garrus? Joker? Your audio links operational?"

"We copy you," Joker answered.

"And the heart-melting sound that is Garrus Vakarian's voice can be all yours at the touch of a button."

"I do like buttons," Shepard said, playfully wiggling an eyebrow at Miranda.

"Yes. We're all well aware," she said.

"Sure, I like salami," Joker interjected.

The three members of the ground party exchanged confused glances.

"What about you, Garrus? Want a sandwich?"

"Joker...we're still on open link here," the flanging voice answered.

"Oooohhhh…um...anyone down there want a sandwich? Kelly is making a snack run to the kitchen, sooo…"

Miranda shook her head, sighing. "Is the back-up team ready?"

Garrus was the one to answer. "Krios, Goto, and Samara are armed and ready to go if you need them. ETA to your location is seven minutes."

"Ten-four." Shepard squinted upward toward the sun and two outlines of nearby planets hovering in the cloudless sky.

"Are we a go for manual comm?" Garrus asked.

Shepard grinned and crossed her arms. "Wish I could push the button."

"It's not fun never being the button pusher, so ha!" Garrus shot back. "Going silent. We'll be here if you need us. Stay sharp. Lawson, make sure she doesn't get herself shot in the ass again. I don't think I could take another week full of her griping and complaining about that."

"You know what?" Shepard pointed uselessly at a stray pebble on the packed dirt under their feet. "I...thought it...no, see…." She swung her finger toward Miranda. "Whatever. That line totally got me the girl. You're just jealous."

"Mmhm. Keep telling yourself that, Shepard."

Miranda laughed. "Copy that, Mister Vakarian. Duly noted. Ground team switching to manual."

"And your eyes in the sky over and out. We'll be here if you need us."

Miranda's eyes flicked from Shepard to Jacob. He was antsy; brows pulled low, taking tiny, shuffling steps back and forth, hand patting at the pistol on his hip. Maybe...this hadn't been the best idea.

"You okay, Jacob?" Shepard asked, starting forward, the man in question at her side.

"Yeah. Fine. Just...ready to know what happened." He nodded ahead. "It still looks pretty intact."

"For being in two pieces, I guess you could say that…" Shepard agreed, gaze traveling up the huge, jagged rocks to their right before sweeping across and to their left. "Let's...not test out that theory on the Normandy, though."

"Survival wouldn't be improbable with an impact like this," Miranda offered, still a few paces behind the two. "Of course not of the entire crew, but...it doesn't look like an all-lives lost crash."

Jacob shook his head. "But...but it's been years."

"Don't discredit them just yet. Humans can be rather resourceful, should the occasion arise."

His eyes pulled toward Shepard. "Yeah...I guess you're right. She's here. Anything's possible, right?"

"While I suggest you not go diving off a cliff any time soon to see if you may fly," Miranda said, "I suppose it's not the worst ideal to have."

Shepard turned around, walking backward to face her. "And what's the worst?"

"Nearly anything that comes out of your mouth," she shot back, a grin tugging at her features. "What could possibly go wrong? Watch what I can do. Painting an advanced, stealth war ship some atrocious color. Driving the Hammerhead. Driving a Mako. Buying fis-"

"You weren't around for my Mako-driving days."

"Chakwas informed me that she once had to treat you for a sprained wrist after one particular trip out."

Shepard cocked her head to the side.

"And it was because you initially refused to relinquish the driver's seat to Gunnery Chief Williams."

The commander pursed her lips. "Ooooohhhh yeaaaah. Ha...you have to ask Wrex to tell you that one. His impersonations of our voices?" She shook her head. "Priceless." She whirled back around so she could walk forward again. She pulled out her pistol and slowed as they rounded a bend in the rough path. Nothing greeted them in the clearing except stripped ship parts littered between slate-grey boulders and trees that vaguely resembled Earth palm trees. "Run over a colossus or two and suddenly Ash doesn't trust you to drive anymore," Shepard said, giving the area a final sweep with the barrel of her gun before shoving it back in its quick-release at her hip.

"Hey...up ahead," Jacob said, pointing. "Is that a VI?"

Miranda could only hear snippets of the far-away voice coming from the orange, circuited man hologram. "Maybe it has some answers," she offered.

"Sure as hell hope so," he said, starting off at an easy jog. "Let's go find out."

Shepard and Miranda kept pace with him, pulling up to the VI just as it flickered off.

"Hey!" Jacob shouted at the air, frowning. "Where do you think you're going?" He powered up his omni-tool and waved it over the control panel to no avail, causing his brows to settle even lower.

Miranda fought the urge to roll her eyes. "This technology is nearly ten years old, Jacob. It's probably a manual panel." She regretted her input as soon as she glanced at the panel. The non-haptic buttons were rusted and several were gone, along with the digital interface to the side being cracked.

Shepard blinked. "That's...unhelpful," she muttered, poking at it.

Miranda swatted her hand away. "What are you doing? There's still power in that thing! Do you want to get electrocuted?"

"Not...uh...particularly?" Shepard raised an eyebrow, still peering at the ruined panel.

"Then stop jabbing your finger into electrical hazards." Miranda could practically see the gears turning in her head, debating poke again or don't poke again?

Shepard bit her lower lip.

Yep, Miranda thought. Definitely debating.

"But-"

Jacob cut off the commander's thought as he knelt down next to the pod. "It must have a sleep cycle. Maybe it's sending transmissions when it's awake. There's gotta' be an emergency button or something down here…"

"I'm good at finding buttons," Shepard said, squatting next to him.

Miranda grinned and turned away, pacing toward the ledge on the other side of a rusting walkway to the ship. Shepard may have been good about finding buttons, but Jacob sure as hell wasn't good about letting other people help with that sort of thing.

A dimly glowing computer terminal on top of two stacked crates caught her attention. Her curiosity won out and she course-corrected from her original path to the ledge. It was possible not all the data was corrupted. While a good number of older VI terminals weren't programmed for omni-tools, terminals had been for quite some time. A scan showed one log as not completely beyond some amount of audio salvage. She keyed it in to play.

The log cackled to life; so quiet she had to lean down to decipher what was being said between the hissing static and broken, skipping words. "...done horrible things to the crew...w-w-with the conditions they're in...don't underst-t-tand what we're doing to them. St-t-rike th...and they forget what you d-did before the bruises show. It's got to st-t-top. I'm t-t-telling-g the oth-thers a-a-a-as soo…" Static took over and the screen flashed white before the option to replay showed.

Shit. What had she gotten them into?

She glanced to the two soldiers still fiddling with the VI base pod.

I should tell them.

And yet the simple thought refused to make it from her brain to her mouth. Complicated. It would complicate what was already turning out to be a much more complicated mission than intended. They would figure out what happened and fix the problem, regardless of how the information got to Jacob's inbox. She was keeping up her end of a bargain. At least she would know that debt was settled.

She turned back toward the ledge and pulled forward, staring out at the waves.

Her arms folded across her chest as the breeze teased her hair across her cheeks. Dammit. She should have tied it back.

"Taylor, I think this might be important."

"No, Shepard, I got this. I think it's over here."

"Are you sure? It says-"

"I know what I'm talking about."

"Ooookay."

Miranda choked back a laugh as Shepard's boots scuffed up next to her a few seconds later. "Nearly as stubborn as you, isn't he?"

"Stubborn?" Shepard put her hands on her hips. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"You poked the panel before you came over here, didn't you?"

"What? Noooo, I would...I would never..." She reached up and rubbed at the back of her neck. "Alright, alright… yeah… I totally did."

Miranda settled on a smirk in her direction as a reply.

"How did you know?"

"I have eyes in the back of my head."

"Uh-huh." Shepard glanced toward the waves before suddenly pulling up her omni-tool and scrolling through a dozen read messages.

"No, still no word from him," she said, turning her gaze back to the sea. "Stop worrying about it. You're going to get yourself hurt if you're not focused."

Shepard issued some sort of frustrated growling noise from the back of her throat. "I can't help it."

Miranda did find it odd that she hadn't had any request for contact from the Illusive Man since her 'slumber party' with Shepard. She'd sent a report stating the data was in Mordin's lab and would stay there. He was the type to double and triple check his information, though. There was no way he didn't know that they hadn't slept together in the sense he...had ordered. Was there?

She chased the thoughts away with a deep breath of the salty air before turning back to Shepard's concentrated features. "Has anyone ever told you that you worry too much?" she asked, her mouth sloping into a grin.

Shepard let out a tired laugh and hung her head, shaking it. "Reapers, Sovereign, geth, keeping batarian terrorists from destroying Terra Nova, Collectors, the Alliance wanting my ass, Torfan...no, I can't say anyone has. And that's the little stuff. Who else is gonna' worry about where I put my damn toothbrushes or how many times a day fish need to be fed?" She grinned, but it didn't fool Miranda. She'd been noticing how the stress was beginning to eat away at her, despite her terrible jokes and genuine smiles.

"Well, for now, why don't you just worry about what happened here?" She reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. "I can worry about our potential problems."

"Why don't I get to worry about potential problems?"

"Because I'm better at it," she countered.

"Dammit!" Jacob fumed behind them.

Shepard turned slightly. "You know, Taylor," she called across the distance between them, "I'm pretty sure it's the-"

"I got it, Shepard! I can do it just fine!"

She hooked a thumb in her belt. "All I'm saying is that there's a label that says 'Power Override' with an on-off switch thing," she muttered toward the ground, toeing at a hardened dirt clod.

Miranda failed at stifling a giggle as Jacob's grumblings continued.

Shepard kicked the dirt-rock and it went skittering across the ground before dropping off the ledge, into the water below.

The splash was lost in the sound of the small waves crashing against the ship.

"Did you ever learn to skip a rock?" Miranda asked quietly, observing Shepard from the corner of her eye.

"Huh?"

"I recall you telling me you once flooded your back yard. Did you learn?"

Shepard smiled. "Both Dad and Pop made sure I did. Our grass wasn't dead for a year and a half for no reason."

"I tried to learn once," she admitted, reaching up to scratch at her collar bone. It, however, was covered in armor, so she settled for tapping at its matte-black surface. "Almost as terrible at it as I was at throwing a boomerang." She squinted slightly at the woman next to her. "And if you ever tell anyone I'm terrible at anything, I'll vehemently deny it."

"Stupid...machine...come on!"

Shepard turned and looked as if she were about to inform him of the switch, then seemed to think better, and shrugged.

"That passive aggressive streak?"

She laughed and squatted, fingers combing through the loose dirt at her feet. "Something like that."

Miranda watched her for a few seconds. "What...are you doing?"

"Searching for lost treasure," she replied simply before her fist closed around something and she straightened.

"Mmhmm."

Her hand opened to reveal a flat, light grey rock. Loose dirt crumbled from its surface and through the spaces in her spread, armored fingers. "Tadaa!"

"That must be the most worthless treasure I've ever seen," she said, grinning.

"Operative Lawson," Shepard playfully chided, bouncing it in her palm. "Sometimes it's the little things we miss that make all the difference."

"Very philosophical. Tell me, will we be skipping stones at the Collectors?" One eyebrow pulled upward as Shepard paced behind her. "And now what are you doing?"

There was the sound of an armored boot clanging against the pod.

"He really hasn't checked the other side?" Shepard muttered, her voice suddenly close to Miranda's ear. Her right arm extended out in front of the operative, offering up the rock.

"You've got to be joking," she said through a laugh, pulling away and turning to face her.

"I would never joke about rock-skipping."

Miranda shook her head.

"Holy shit!"

Shepard whirled back toward Jacob, her free hand already closing around her pistol, the one holding the rock poised as if ready to throw it.

I suppose skipping stones at the Collectors isn't entirely off the table, then.

"Taylor! What the hell? You can't scare me like that!"

Miranda sighed heavily. The orange man had reappeared from the pod, which had been the source of Jacob's surprise. "So you found the power override switch?" she asked, passing by Shepard to get back to the VI. It flickered a few times. Probably loading its message code.

"No, the damn thing just turned back on. Wait...what power override switch?"

Shepard laughed and tucked the rock into a spare ammo pouch on her belt. "Thought you had it, Taylor!"

Miranda waved toward the commander's belt. "Shepard, what are you going to do if dirt gets in one of your thermal clips and jams your gun?"

She tilted her head to the side. "Guess you should have taken Shepard Rock-Skipping 101, shouldn't you?"

"Danger. Toxology alert."

The synthetic, male voice jolted all three of them.

Shepard's eyebrows jumped up and she held her palms out toward the luminescent figure. "And labracadabrador! It works!"

Miranda made a mental note to ask just what the hell that one was supposed to mean.

"Repeat. Toxology alert. Danger of rapid neural decay. Local flora chemically incompatible with human physiology."

Shepard scratched at the base of her skull, frowning. "This thing has been here a while. Did it just start sending transmissions?"

Miranda bit her lip before answering. Only a few days before Jacob had approached Shepard about heading here.

"Pause in beacon protocol. Eight years, two-hundred thirty-seven days, seven hours. Pause is recorded as Record...deleted...by Acting Captain Ronald Taylor."

Shit. Not good, Miranda thought. Not good at all...God, how much worse can this possibly...oh no. It always gets worse after you think that.

"No...that's not right," Jacob said, looking back and forth between his two superiors. "My father was first officer."

"Ronald Taylor was promoted under emergency command protocols. Other flagged issues: unsafe deceleration, local food and neural decay, beacon activation protocols."

Shepard snorted, eyes darting over the ruined length of the Gernsback. "Unsafe deceleration. I swear...VI's can make any imminent doom sound almost pleasant. 'Please don't eat the flowers, they will kill you. Have a nice day.'"

Jacob waved toward the rusting walkway extending from the ledge to the broken ship. "You guys go see if there's anything in there we could use. I'll see what this scrap heap has to say."

"Ssshhhhh," Shepard hissed, covering her mouth from the side of the VI. "Don't hurt his feelings."

Jacob frowned in almost-confusion as Miranda rolled her eyes and started for the metal bridge, grabbing Shepard's arm.

"You are an impossibly complex person to figure out," Miranda said, glancing over at Shepard as she stumbled a few paces before righting herself. "You do realize that, right?"

"All part of the charm," she answered, tapping her fist against her chest. Their footfalls were sharp and metallic against the walkway as they started across. "What isn't fun about puzzles? Other than...I can't really do them?"

"The fact that someone would cut up a perfectly fine picture and jumble the pieces into incoherent color-vomit in a box. That is what's not fun about puzzles. The entire process is incredibly counterproductive."

"So you're saying I'm counterproduc...wait. Don't answer that."

Miranda glanced over her shoulder and grinned.

"It's funny, though," Shepard continued, "I could see you sitting down to do a puzzle."

"I'll leave all that ridiculous piece-putting-together to you and your toy ships."

"Model, Miranda. Model ships."

"Same exact thing." Her last word echoed as they stepped into the room at the end of the makeshift bridge. A terminal to the right and the left. "You take that one," she said, pointing to the right. "I've got this one."

"Same thing? Commander Shepard doesn't deal with toy ships…" Shepard's mumblings faded away as they split up.

Another partial recording on Miranda's terminal. The static growled and hissed, an electronic screech tearing through it. She winced at the harsh sound bouncing off the stripped walls.

"...always said no...even threatened to report if I didn't stop sending messages." A low, gravelly voice muttered. Miranda's stomach churned. She knew that tone of voice. "But now she's so innocent...they all are. And that look she gives when she smiles…" A sharp intake of breath. "What's the harm? We're all stuck here anyway…"

Her face started to burn. Her hands curled into fists and she suddenly realized her jaw was clenched so tightly it would give her a headache if she didn't stop soon. What's the harm? Her hand moved to her pistol.

The shot was almost deafening as it exploded from the barrel, plowing through the old machine. She stared blankly down the sight.

Bloody bastard.

"Miranda?"

She whirled, gun instinctively still up.

Shepard's hands flew into the air; surrender. "It's okay. It's just me."

Dammit, what had she done, giving Jacob this information? She lowered the weapon and ran a hand across her forehead, clearing her throat. Her ears were ringing. "Sorry, I…" She took a deep breath before looking up again, mentally pulling herself together, brushing aside the anger. Compartmentalizing. She could do that. "We need to figure out what the hell happened here."

Shepard nodded.

/ / /

Miranda tossed loose hair from her yellow visor as Jacob and Shepard examined the bodies of several men on the ground. "That wasn't neural decay. They were...feral," she said. The way they had attacked-vicious, unorganized-the look across their faces. They had no idea what was going on. Wild.

"This is wrong," Jacob said, for what seemed like the millionth time. "This is all wrong."

Shepard wiped her forearm across her brow, looking up the path.

The men had almost surprised them. If Shepard hadn't happened to glance up just a few minutes earlier, that thin, defenseless, rambling woman they'd run into would have been gunned down.

"She had to come from somewhere," Shepard said, pointing ahead. "Let's check it out."

"And they'd better be friendly," Jacob grumbled. "I need some answers."

Yes, the group of trigger-happy men could not have been classified as friendly, and the woman had been a little less than helpful. Side effects of the local food, no doubt. She'd tried her best to explain, but it still came out as a jumbled mess sounding like folklore.

Shepard jostled her shotgun into a more comfortable position as they made their way up the hill. She turned and craned her head upward, searching the rocks rising to their right before snapping her attention forward.

It was sometimes easy for Miranda to forget that the woman leading the way was a soldier.

And a damn good one at that.

The best.

She paused at the top of the hill, holding a fist up. She waited a few seconds. "They're friendly," she finally said, slinging her gun into its quick-release.

About damn time we had some good news.

"Hey!" Shepard called, waving a hand in the air and continuing forward. "Friendlies!"

Miranda and Jacob crested the hill at the same time. Two clusters of people stood in a clearing full of rough, dilapidated shelters and lean-tos constructed from old spaceship parts. In the middle stood a monstrous sculpture-like...thing. She had no idea what it was supposed to resemble.

Shepard paused under a large, natural rock archway and Miranda stopped next to her. They were...calm. It seemed almost peaceful in the ragged settlement. She crossed one arm across her stomach and propped her opposite elbow on it. "They're clearly docile," she said, glancing at the commander. "But still in the same uniform remnants as the men on the beach."

Shepard's eyes narrowed for a moment, jumping from person to person. "There aren't any men here," she said, before turning to face Miranda. "Do you think it affects genders differently? Makes men get violent?"

Miranda paused for a moment, mentally going over dozens of possible ways neural decay could indeed affect a female and male brain differently. However, they didn't need a neurophysiological lecture at the moment. "It's entirely possible." Her eyes darted toward two of the women who started an approach. Shepard followed her gaze, hand straying to rest at her pistol. "But wait," she said quickly, reaching over and taking her wrist. "Remember what the woman on the beach said? That...the exiled ones came back as hunters." She lowered her voice. "I don't think these are the hunters. Whatever the hell that's supposed to mean."

The two women stopped in front of them, heads bowed. One peered up, through a mess of dirty brown hair that tumbled in front of her features.

Shepard nodded slightly, letting her hand slide from the gun.

"It doesn't matter right now," Jacob snapped. "One of these people must know what my father has to do with this."

The brown-haired one took a step back, her hands pulling up. "His face...you have his face." Her voice wavered and her eyes widened. "He promised to call the sky...but he sends nothing!"

The second woman's dark eyes darted away, and her hands fidgeted in front of her. "He forced us to eat. To...decay." Her wandering gaze found Miranda's before sliding to Jacob. "You are cursed with his face!" she suddenly exclaimed, jabbing a finger at him.

"They're not safe," the brunette muttered, grabbing the other woman's wrist. "We can't...we shouldn't talk to them. He wouldn't be...happy."

Shepard watched them back away before glancing at Jacob. "Well...shit. That's not good."

He crossed his arms and turned away. "Why would my father force his crew to eat toxic food?" He muttered. "Whatever's happening here needs to stop."

"Agreed," Miranda said.

Shepard put a hand on her shoulder. "Radio Garrus. Tell him to send the second ground team and have them hold this position. If those hunter guys were willing to shoot the other woman who talked to us...well…" She looked around at the dazed faces inhabiting the pathetic camp. "Let's not take any chances. Even if we don't figure out what happened here, there may be a chance to fix this."

"Got it."

"Taylor, let's see if we can find anything out."

"Dammit-look at that spoiled food." Jacob flung his hand out, toward an old storage container. "Who knows how long they've been eating this toxic stuff?"

Miranda pulled up her omni-tool, watching the two of them beginning to make their way across the camp. "Vakarian?"

"Lawson. Everything alright down there?"

She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment. Not in the slightest. "It's been...interesting. We need the backup team to hold a position."

"Got it. Joker? Send them down." A pause. "And they'll be en-route within thirty seconds. Patching Samara's link through." Another pause. "Justicar?"

"Ah, Garrus. Yes, I read you. What is the situation?"

"Just about to find out."

Miranda cleared her throat. "You'll be dropped at the same LZ we were. Continue down the path and past the ship wreckage of the Gernsback. There's a rather...unsettled woman you should run into. Take it slowly with her. They've been eating food native to the planet that causes neural decay. Once you find her and the bodies, there's a female camp not far ahead. You three will be protecting this site."

"Understood. From what are we guarding them?"

"Apparently the decay affects the genders differently. The only hostiles we've run into thus far have bee-"

There was a scream.

"Dammit!" she hissed, bolting forward, simultaneously pulling out her pistol and trying to bump a few of the startled women out of the way as gently as she could. "Shepard? Jacob? Do you copy?"

"They've got one of them!" Shepard answered. "Cover me!"

"Wait, Shepar-shit!"

Miranda nearly bowled over a woman who was scampering away. "Jacob! Stat-rep!"

"Not now!" he answered.

Three booming blasts from two separate shotguns, punctuated by the more rapid, staccato of pistol-fire. She rounded a corner to have a bullet zing against her shoulder, deflected by her barrier.

Mechs.

Jacob was pinned down behind two crates, hastily loading another thermal clip into his shotgun.

Miranda whirled, catching the nearest mech with a field of biotics and hurling it into the air before slamming it back down, sending a metal arm, leg, and head bouncing off in different directions. Another bullet hit her barrier. Her suit beeped. She didn't have much longer out in the open.

"Jacob, I could use a pull or something!" Shepard was standing as a shield between three clunky mechs and a woman cowering behind her.

Miranda's visor showed a reading of them at various levels between fifty and eighty percent functionality. Another shot smashed against her left shoulder. Her barrier was gone.

That was going to bruise.

She dove into cover next to Jacob.

"Two are flanking our left-I'll get them, you get the ones around Shepard. Go!" She dove out, to the left of the crates, taking four quick shots at both of them. As they staggered back, she lined up a head-shot for one, and fired. Its head went sailing off and the body began to shake.

"Er-r-r-r-ror. Erro-o-o-"

She didn't bother watching the explosion take out the one next to it. She was already turning her attention back toward Shepard. Jacob had managed to pull two mechs away, but the commander was doggedly beating the last with the barrel of her gun. Apparently, she'd run out of thermals within easy access.

Miranda keyed in an overload and sent it out. It sparked and buzzed before flopping backward to the ground, writhing in a jerky death throe.

"Ha!" Shepard panted, finally lowering her shotgun. "Take...that, you...son of a…"

It sparked and its arm jumped up.

"Shit!" Shepard's pistol was suddenly drawn. She emptied six shots into the head.

"I think you got it," Jacob said, wiping a hand across his brow. "You okay, Commander?"

She nodded, slinging both her guns into their quick releases before planting her hands on her knees. "Just...gotta'...catch my breath." She glanced over her shoulder to the woman who was shakily getting to her feet. "You okay, ma'am?"

The woman's brown eyes immediately shot to Jacob. "You...you have his face. But...you fight his machines."

Miranda hooked a hand under Shepard's arm, beginning to pull her upright. "Having to use mechs to keep the former crew in line? That's ridiculous."

"Oooowww ow," Shepard protested, curling over again. "Fight his machines," she said, turning her head toward the woman. She gripped Miranda's forearm, a non-verbal plea to not try and straighten her again. Yet. "Does that happen often?"

She looked down to Shepard. "Um...I think...yes. It does. It...but we don't fight, so his machines don't hurt us."

"Do you know where the machines come from?"

Her face lit up in near child-like excitement. "I have something. It might...it might help. You might stop this. You came from the sky?"

"Yeah," Shepard sighed out. "Yeah, we're the sky people."

"I...I can help. You...are going to help us?"

She grunted and tugged at Miranda's arm; started the slow curl upward. "I don't get punched in the gut by some ancient mech for just anyone."

"Liar," Miranda whispered against her ear.

"I have something," the woman repeated, motioning for them to follow her. "It could help."

"Ah, nah, y'know," Shepard said, waving her hand outward, "I'm just...gonna' need to stand here for a minute."

"Then...then I'll get it. Wait here." Without further ado, she started back toward the heart of the camp.

Shepard took a deep breath. "Well, we have to wait until backup gets here anyway."

"Oh, dammit," Miranda said, letting go of Shepard. "Speaking of which…" she opened her comm line again. "Samara? Garrus?"

"Lawson! Spirits! What the hell is going on down there?"

"Miss Lawson. We are nearing the drop-off zone. Do you need assistance?"

"No, Samara, thank you. We're alright for the moment. As...I was saying earlier. Look out for the men and...apparently...mechs."

Shepard groaned, putting a hand over her abdomen. "Especially the mechs," she muttered. "Sturdy little...bastards."

"Shepard?" Garrus asked. "Is she alright?"

Miranda sighed, grinning at the woman. "While you probably won't have to hear about her getting shot in the ass, no doubt you'll be listening to her groan all day about getting punched in the abdomen."

"I'm dying, Garrus!" She wailed.

"Oh, can it, Shepard," he answered dismissively. "You said you were dying a few years ago when you got a splinter."

"I was dying."

"Lawson, kick her for me, would you?"

Miranda rolled her eyes. "Going dark again, Vakarian. We'll radio when we're ready for pick-up."

"You're still going to kick her, right?"

"Goodbye, Garrus," she said before shutting down the line. She turned her attention back to Shepard. "Does it still hurt?" she asked seriously. She didn't need her to have any kind of internal bleeding. "Do I need to run a scan?"

She shook her head. "No, it's alright. Just winded me." Her eyes flicked to something over her shoulder. "Oh, okay. Here we go."

The woman held out a data pad to Jacob. "It's...the beginning. What he promised. And what they did to us…" She started away. "We need the sky," she nearly whispered, eyes locking with Miranda's. "Take us back to the sky."

She nodded, tongue seeming to stick in her mouth, unable to form words. The woman turned, continuing back to the group.

Miranda looked between her two squad mates. "I'm going back to the entrance so I can meet the second team and we'll set up their positions." She motioned to the data pad in Jacob's hands. "Figure out what the hell happened here."

/ / /

Miranda approached Shepard and Jacob once again, Thane following closely behind her. "Alright. Samara is at the entrance, Kasumi is cloaked and watching for any movement from above." She used two fingers to sweep through the air, indicating the high rocks. "Thane will guard back here."

"Miranda…" Jacob's eyes flicked up from the data pad. "This...isn't good."

"Well, nothing about this situation exactly screams good things," she answered, crossing her arms.

"No," he said, scrubbing a hand over his tightly cropped hair. "No, it's worse than we thought."

"Worse?" She exchanged a glance with Shepard. God. Of course it's worse.

The commander nodded. "It's bad."

"It's a crew logbook," Jacob explained, tapping the data pad against his palm. "After the ship went down, some people thought the beacon repair was going to take too long. My father...he restricted the ship food for himself and the other officers. Everyone else had to eat the toxic food."

"And I'm assuming not everyone was happy about that," Miranda said.

"No. Some of the crew members mutinied over the decision." He pointed to one of the broken mechs on the ground. "So he turned the mechs on them."

Unsurprising. Someone who wasn't command material wouldn't be able to keep a crew in check without violence.

"They...separated out the female crew members," Jacob continued. "Assigned them to the officers...like pets."

A familiar anger started deep in Miranda's chest. It would overwhelm her if she didn't do something about it. Of course they did. The women were defenseless. Helpless. It only made sense. What's the harm? She could see justification for keeping food for the select few who could get the beacon up and running. A difficult decision. But that...that had no answer.

"But...once the beacon was functional again…" Jacob shook his head. "The officers appear in the casualty list, along with all the other male crew members. After! Why didn't they just signal and the hell off this damn rock?!"

Miranda swallowed back a colorful assortment of words she could have spouted about the situation. "Let's find your father and figure it out." Her eyes roved over to Shepard, who had an odd look on her face; frowning almost imperceptibly at nothing in particular. She reached a hand up and gingerly prodded at the hair falling over her left ear. Winced.

"Let's go," Shepard said, not bothering to check her hand. She swiped it against her thigh before nodding to Thane. "You guys gonna' hold down the fort?"

He bowed slightly, pressing his sniper against his chest. "They will be protected." His big, dark eyes tugged their gaze toward Miranda. "This I promise."

"Thank you," she murmured as Shepard and Jacob started ahead.

"I can see you are troubled," he offered, pacing forward with her a small distance.

"What happened here is wrong," she practically spat.

He stopped and pulled himself into his impeccable posture. "Then you will make it right."