***Author's Note***
So this is the nice little lead-up to Shepard's awakening, which will be the focus
of the Epilogue to The Darkest Night. Just two more chapters after this and we'll
be on to For We Are Many! It's been a great ride with all of you and I can't wait to
get started on the next part of this series.
ALSO! As many of you have learned via PM conversations with me, I am a diehard
Tali/Shepard writer. While I respect those who enjoy Miranda/Jack/Ash/Liara, I just
don't write it myself. To that end, I always wondered what exactly happened between
Jacob and Miri, because she never talks about it, and he always gets weird when he
talks about it. Expect that to be one of the things I bring up in For We Are Many that
wasn't covered much in canon!
Just a reminder, any questions you'd like answered in the Afterword about me or
the story or my intentions/ideas with it, fire me a PM with the title "Afterword" and
I'll answer 'em!
As always, thanks for the reviews and adds, they make me feel like a million credits!
Chapter 29 – Lights Out
Wilson opened his eyes into the darkness of the crew quarters aboard Lazarus Station. Pitch black greeted him, along with Davidoff's snoring, he noted with disdain. Suddenly, the inky darkness around him was sliced with an orange light. It had only been there for a second, but it was there. He waited, and watched, and a few seconds later it happened again, that same orange flash, cutting through the darkness. His mind, still foggy from the transition out of unconsciousness, tried desperately to piece together what could be causing the light. Looking around slowly, he bolted to full consciousness with terror as he saw his omni-tool pulsing the soft indicator light.
Stepping quickly from his bed, he left the room and walked the cold metal hallways of Lazarus Station barefoot, walking as fast as he thought safe to the nearest restroom. Taking an empty stall, Wilson pulled up his omni-tool and opened the device. Sighing with relief, he saw it was not an FTL relay, but a simple sent message. He hadn't kept the Broker waiting. Relaxing, he opened the message and read, his eyes widening with surprise and a malicious grin spreading across his face.
Wilson,
According to your last report, Commander Shepard is mere days from completion. I had wanted to have this in your hands earlier, but it should help you complete your task nonetheless. Upload it to the security mainframe in the mech maintenance wing; overwrite any files already in place. Then I suggest you find a secure location until the Commander has been killed.
Looking towards the bottom of the file, Wilson saw the attached virus, and downloaded it to his omni-tool. Well, no sense in waiting, Wilson thought with no small amount of cheer as he left the bathroom to walk back to the crew quarters and get fully dressed. Walking fast out of the bathroom, he reeled backwards as he bumped into Jacob, and his throat tightened as the man spoke.
"Oh, hey Wilson. Um…why are you barefoot?" The man cocked an eyebrow as he looked down at Wilson's feet, then back up to meet his gaze. Wilson feigned as much sarcasm as possible, hoping Jacob would buy it.
"Hey, sometimes you've just really gotta piss, you know?" A brief moment passed, and Jacob shook his head, laughing softly.
"Must have been one hell of a call of nature. Excuse me," he said, moving past Wilson and into the restroom. Wilson heaved a sigh of relief and continued quickly back to the crew quarters. Pulling on his socks and boots, he grabbed all of his personal effects from his small personal locker. He moved to open the door when he heard a soft whisper pierce the darkness.
"Ugh…Wilson? What…what's up, man? Is something wrong?" Davidoff's sharp accented voice brought a sick grin to Wilson's face, one he knew the doomed man couldn't see in the darkness. Lacing his voice with feigned concern for waking his 'friend,' Wilson replied.
"Oh no, Davidoff. I'm just going for a walk, clear my head is all, can't sleep tonight. Sorry to wake you."
"Oh…no problem, man. See you in a few hours." Wilson smiled into the darkness.
Not if I can help it, he thought, stifling a small laugh as he left the crew quarters and headed for the maintenance wing.
Jacob exited the restroom and returned to his quarters with a sigh. Six datapads sat on top of his desk, patrol schedules and maintenance reports that needed going through. Sitting, more like falling, into the chair, he checked the chrono on his omni-tool: 02:46. Leaning back in the chair, Jacob put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been on Earth, ten years maybe? Still, he liked to keep his omni-tool set to Earth EST. Something about being able to look down and know what time it was at home was…comforting, out here in the black. Leaning forward again, Jacob rifled through the datapads and found the weapons maintenance log with a smile.
May as well start with something I like… he thought as he activated and began to read the information stored within: new inventory, Alliance-grade rifles, taken after boarding a disabled corsair vessel attacking Cerberus ships. Shaking his head softly at his recollection of corsair work, he set the datapad aside, opening the small drawer in his desk and staring down within. His own Alliance holo-tags lay inside the drawer, a reminder of where he'd come from. Cerberus was willing to get their hands dirty to get the job done, but some days he thought that was too true. Picking up the tags, he rolled them through his fingers, thinking about the decision to leave.
Corsair service had been a spider web of red tape; Eden Prime had been a god damn nightmare. Every mission the Alliance had set him to had either been blundered by their own bureaucracy or doomed from the start because of insufficient resources or inadequate defenses. Still…his father had been an Alliance man. And while distant, Ronald Taylor had wanted his son to be a proud Alliance marine. Not that it matters anymore, he thought, tossing the tags back into the desk drawer and sliding it shut. Ronald Taylor was dead. Jacob had joined with Cerberus, and had done good work for humanity within their ranks. Besides, he and Miranda were working on the most important Cerberus project to have ever been initiated.
Miranda; just thinking about her brought back waves of feelings. Happiness, lust, regret, remorse, awkwardness…the list continued to compile in his mind. They had broken off whatever it was they'd had months ago, had been able to remain professional, and even cordial in their friendship. Though Jacob would never say it, he did miss her. He'd known her for a long time, since she'd been his informant when he tracked down those batarian terrorists, to here and now, where she'd handpicked him to be her security chief on Lazarus Station. Though not without a bit of bias, he recalled with a small smile.
He stands outside her office, a hand raised. Does he knock? Should he just walk in? As he wonders how to proceed he hears a small laugh emanating from the terminal beside the door.
"You know I have a camera on that door, right?" He hangs his head in embarrassment, but a smile is on his lips nonetheless.
"No, but I should have guessed." The door slides open, and he gazes inwards at her. Her body captivates him, as it does every time he looks at her, and in that skin-tight outfit, she knows it's one of her deadliest weapons. He steps in and the door closes behind him.
"Please, have a seat, Mr. Taylor," she offers, the smile on her lips betraying a hint of familiarity. Since arriving on Lazarus Station he'd heard Miranda spoken about in…many different ways by the crew when they thought they weren't being overheard, but he knew the woman, had worked with her, had celebrated with her after stopping the attack on the Council, had spoken with her about his father…shaking his head, he steps forward, taking the chair across from her desk. She slides back into her own, maybe a bit slower than was necessary he thinks, and raises the datapad with his file on it.
"I requested you be transferred here for three very specific reasons," she begins, all business. Good. Jacob needs this to be all business, no distractions. "First, and of course most obvious, is that we've worked together before, Mr. Taylor. I know how you operate, you know how I do as well, and I feel that will lead to a very effective working relationship here on Lazarus Station." He nods his agreement, and she smiles, continuing.
"Secondly, you have an extremely impressive file. Active service on Eden Prime, and one of the few who survived, I might add. Advanced knowledge of many different types of weaponry and armament systems. And there's even a note in here about you…" she squints back at the datapad before replying, "…saving the Citadel Council from a biological attack? Hmm, 'Source Undocumented.' Well…clearly someone in human resources is getting a bit melodramatic, don't you think?" Her eyes lock on his again, and his pulse quickens. She's smiling at him, but it's not a smile, she's showing her teeth. She's a lion, and he's the sickly gazelle, completely helpless under that gaze…
No. Not helpless. He leans back in his chair, crossing one leg casually over the other, and gives her a similar smile. "All true, ma'am," he laces the word with exaggerated respect, "wouldn't think of bringing an exaggerated file in for an interview." Her eyes gleam, he's matching her tenacity, and she approves. She stands, dropping the datapad on the desk and speaking softly as she rounds the desk in a slow, hip-swaying walk that threatens to destroy the calm façade he holds onto.
"Interview? Mr. Taylor, you've already been assigned to this post. This meeting is simply a…formality." Walking past his seated form, she allows her hand to brush up his arm and over his shoulder as she passes. Pressing in a code on the door, he sees its access panel change from green to red, locked. She turns back to him, leaning with her back to the door and crossing her arms. Standing, he walks slowly, powerfully, over to her, yet stands at a respectable distance.
"Is locking the door a formality as well, Miss Lawson?" She arches an eyebrow at him, her smile never fading.
"I wouldn't want an important personnel meeting like this to be interrupted…Jacob." She whispers his name, and his blood runs cold with exhilaration. In one smooth motion he steps forward, wrapping an arm around her waist and kissing her deeply. She returns the gesture, wrapping her arms around his neck. Pulling away from her lips, he kisses down her neck as she digs her fingernails into his back.
"What was the third thing?" he asks playfully as he continues to kiss her. Suddenly he is jerked away, she's holding him at arms length, and for the first time he sees a hint of…concern?...in her eyes. Miranda Lawson is cold, calculating, willing to sacrifice almost anything for the greater good. But here, in this moment…she was vulnerable, weak.
"This, Jacob," she says in a whisper. "I need…this." He smiles, leaning in and kissing her delicately on the lips before speaking.
"I guess I'll take the job then. What are the benefits like?" A biotic push sends him reeling backwards, and he crashes onto her bed a few feet behind him. She's on top of him before he can think, her lips centimeters from his own as she replies.
"Excellent."
Coming back to his senses, he shook his head to clear the memories, and walked over to his bed. Nothing on that table couldn't wait until tomorrow, and after reliving that moment of his life…he just wants to fall asleep. He wants to wake up tomorrow and be the tough soldier again, be the security chief; and not feel weak when he's around her, not have to hide his lingering regret at what could have been.
He knows it will never be that way.
Miranda sat back from the terminal and checked the chrono on the corner of the desk with a sigh, rubbing at her bloodshot eyes. She was completely exhausted, after having run diagnostic tests all day to make absolutely certain Shepard would be ready to wake up in two days' time. Just the thought sent a chill through her body. She'd been working towards this moment, this event for two years now, and in a few short hours it would come to fruition. Every calculation she and Wilson had run said that the Commander would wake up exactly the same person he had been before, Wilson had even shown her the neural readings that indicated he was probably in some semi-aware state since the incident. She wondered what he dreamed about… Leaning back in her chair, she certainly knew what she dreamed about.
"God, what I wouldn't give for a bottle of red wine and a box of chocolates right now…" she spoke into the air of the operating room. Sparing a quick glance at Shepard, lying complete on the table, she added, "You tell anyone I said that and I'll kill you myself, got it?" He lay still in response, and she chuckled to herself. "Threatening the coma patient, Miranda, classy." Eyes still on him, she stood and walked around the side of the gurney. The only mark of their work, the only indication he'd ever died, were the few faintly glowing scars on his cheek. She touched them gently, wondering how long it would take for them to heal, and frowned.
A yawn broke her determination to make him perfect just by glaring at his injuries, and she closed down her terminal, leaving for the evening and locking the door behind her. Crossing through the empty halls of the station, she couldn't help but feel uneasy, like something was out of place. Stopping, she looked around, trying to figure out what exactly irritated her. Nothing, just a feeling, she told herself, shaking her head and walking towards her quarters. She deserved some sleep, and sleep she would.
Passing through the officer's quarters, she noticed a light still on in a familiar window. Stepping close to the edge, she pressed her hand against the frame and looked in, staying out of sight. Jacob sat at his desk, holding his Alliance tags. Something was bothering him too, then. Jacob wasn't the reminiscing type; if he was thinking about the past, something was bothering him now. Conflict raged within her; should she speak with him? Try to talk about what was upsetting them both? Or…did she already know what that was? Hanging her head softly, she cursed herself for the millionth time in the past few months. They'd had something good, and Miranda being Miranda, she had to ruin it with her worries and almost compulsive resistance to commitment or actual intimacy. No, she couldn't speak with him. They had to remain simply professional colleagues from now on. She'd seen to that herself.
Stepping away from the window, she stalked further down the hall to her own quarters, irritated beyond belief at herself for the things she'd done. Closing and locking the door behind her, she settled down on her bed and stared at the ceiling for over an hour, replaying the past few months and wondering if everything had been handled correctly, if she could have done anything different, if he would be alright. And for the first time in as many months, when she thought these things, she wasn't thinking about Commander John Shepard.
Wilson walked slowly through Lazarus Station, he had never been this afraid of running into someone. Sure, there were times before when he'd been trying to find a secluded spot on the already-small station to have a conversation with the Broker that he'd be afraid to bump into someone with his omni-tool alight, but this was different. He didn't want to be seen, by anyone, just in case the Broker's hack didn't work. He stifled a small laugh at the thought as he approached the maintenance wing door.
The Broker has countless numbers of tech experts and hacking geniuses working for him, I'm sure it works. Wilson had faith in his employer; the Broker seemed to greedily desire Shepard's body, to the exclusion of all else. Whoever wanted it from him was likely paying a pretty penny. Almost drooling at the imagined amounts in his head, Wilson tapped the access panel and the door slid open, revealing row after row of mech maintenance bays and haptic tech terminals. On the back wall stood a single physical terminal, the mainframe, and Wilson walked towards it.
Eyes on his goal, he almost yelled as he tripped over something, flying forward and crashing to the ground. Whipping his head back to see what had caused his fall, he saw engineer Anthony getting to his feet from under one of the haptic interfaces. The young man's eyes were wide as dinner plates, and he stammered as he stood, extending a hand to Wilson.
"Sh-shit, sorry Wilson! I didn't think anyone would be coming through here until morning." Wilson, panicking internally, grabbed his hand and allowed the other man to hoist him back to a standing position. "My terminal's been giving off some color bleed lately so I was just tinkering with it now, when I wouldn't be in anyone's way." He gave off a soft laugh as he shrugged. "So much for that plan, right?"
Can't shoot him, it would be heard. Can't cut his throat, wouldn't look like a mech did it. Wilson's mind raced through every possible scenario. Eventually he settled on one. Tightening his grip on the pistol at the small of his back, covering the action by making a rubbing motion with his arm, he put on the best smile he could muster and said warmly to the other man.
"Oh, well that's no good, Anthony. Have you found a cable crossing or something?" Anthony nodded.
"Yea, it's right down here, I'll show you. Getting back down on his knees, Anthony motioned for Wilson to follow and turned to look into the terminal's wire housing. Whipping the pistol forward, Wilson caught Anthony in the back of the head. A sickening crunch greeted the attack, and Anthony slumped forward, head inside the wire housing column of the console. Smirking, Wilson walked towards the mainframe terminal and uploaded the Broker's program. As it completed, he turned around and sat on one of the crates, bringing up his chrono and watching it countdown to all hell breaking loose on the station.
Closing his eyes for a moment, Wilson wondered whatever he was going to do with all the money he'd be getting for this job…
Twenty-Four Hours Earlier:
"You've finished the code, then?" The deep voice always scared the salarian programmer, always held such malice, but he swallowed inaudibly and replied.
"Yes, Shadow Broker. The systemic attack will activate all FENRIS, LOKI, and YMIR mechs within a network and instruct them to kill all organics. I…I did have one question about your parameters, however."
"Of course."
"Um, originally you had said to integrate a runtime to spare one of the organics, based on an ID code…your most recent update had omitted this, did you still want it in the program?"
"How accurate are the location trace readouts on that omni-tool data I sent you?"
"Oh, extremely. I don't know what's at the location I was able to datamine for you, but whatever's there, that's where your omni-tool conversations are originating."
"Then no, continue to have the attack destroy all organics. I'll send my own men to recover the merchandise. No need to spend money one doesn't have to." His words chilled the salarian's blood, and he shook his head to ease the tense feeling.
"Alright, in that case it's done. Uploading to you now." He pressed a button and the file was transferred. The voice replied after a moment.
"Received. Thank you for your assistance. You were most instrumental."
In an alleyway outside, a human in completely black armor received a communication through his helmet. Just two words. "Complete Mission." Nodding, the human stepped forward and opened the door he had hacked half an hour ago, walked into the room, placed a gun to the back of the head of the salarian whose name he did not know, and pulled the trigger three times.
Turning around, he walked out just as calmly and quickly as he'd walked in, and made for the public transport terminal platform. He transmitted back. Just two words. "Mission Complete."
