tik tik tik, tik tik tik, tik tik tik
"Miranda!" Joker's voice echoed from around the corner, from his seat in the cockpit. "I can hear your flawlessly manicured fingernails all the way up here! Please do something slightly less annoying, like...crashing cymbals just behind my skull, perhaps?"
With a grimace of irritation at herself, the Cerberus operative made a fist to silence her hand, and set it back down on the armrest of the chair. She was reclining in the starboard and forward-most of the bridge crew stations, just short of the main airlock, and the cockpit. Close enough to irritate the pilot, evidently.
Nevertheless, sitting at her office desk, or pacing within the confines of that room, had ceased to be satisfactory. In truth, stress had been gnawing at her stomach since they'd lost contact with the ground crew, and - and even more significantly, in her personal view - since she'd lost connection to the biometric data transmitting from Shepard's armor.
She checked a chronometer display, yet again. Elapsed mission time since communications loss was now at two hours, seventeen minutes. Both shuttles deployed. Passive communications only, as the Normandy was in full stealth mode.
Blind and deaf, as it turned out.
Miranda toggled one of the gently flickering holographic controls in front of her, and spoke tersely in response. "Joker, you do know we have internal comms?"
"Oh, hey. Well, sure, but yelling was a lot more satisfying."
The raven-haired woman bowed her head, and pinched the bridge of her nose with one gloved hand. "Of course. EDI?"
"Yes, Officer Lawson?"
"Weather update?"
"Still excessively severe for either a successful Normandy landing, or a Hammerhead deployment. Current forecast suggests, at minimum, four more hours before a possible significant improvement. Shall I update you at an interval of every fifteen standard minutes, to pre-empt your next inquiry? This is the fifth identical occurrence of your request. I could also present you with a live-feed of surface-facing sensors with a text crawl of meteorologic..."
"No. That will not be required. Thank you." Miranda dropped her face into one palm, and slowly counted to ten.
Dropping out of stealth and moving to active communications was out of the question. Lorek was a Batarian Hegemony mining world, and - although lightly populated in relation to its resources and ecology, with nearly five million inhabitants - it would have a sizable enough military presence to discourage the Cerberus ship from drawing attention to itself by appearing on their sensors.
The primary encrypted mission comm channel crackled, and was suddenly alive with a familiar, though distorted, voice. "Normandy, Jacob. Come in, Normandy. Testing?"
Both Miranda's and Joker's hands snapped towards receive commands to open the channel - the genetically-enhanced Cerberus officer being a hair quicker.
"Normandy here!" She was not able to see Moreau's scowl.
Through some digital noise, she heard a sigh of agitation on the other end. "Yeah. Finally got this nailed down, we think. Secure enough to focus on taking over one of the building comms and get Kasumi hacking a dish and signal-matching. Place was crawling with damn Eclipse."
Despite the lack of a visual channel, Miranda waved her hand dismissively. "Mission status? Casualties?"
A pause. "Right. The Council beat us here, they were after the data also. Shepard's friend from Horizon is here, and two salarian operatives. Looks like some sort of joint-op they're on. They're not with me right now, so I can speak fre..."
"What the hell do you mean? Did they get the data? What is Shepard doing?"
"Nobody has the data, it's off-site and running free with one Eclipse guy who broke out and disabled Garrus. Zaeed is just leading Garrus back inside, and we've lost Shepard and Jack."
Miranda felt the blood drain from her face. "Lost? What the hell are you..."
"Not that kind of lost. Literally lost. Jack pursued the target out into the storm, and, from what I gather, he ganked one of our shuttles and took off with it. Shepard grabbed the other one and gave chase. We lost contact with both of them over an hour ago."
"Dammit, Jacob!"
"Hey, listen up. This place was triple the opforce we expected. Might have gone worse if not for the surprise assist from Ashley Williams and the salarians. She took a hit and we put her in a half-assed medbay we found here. Doing the best we can, Miranda. We did well to not be burying any of our own."
"We can't get a landing in unless we break stealth, and the Hammerhead isn't deployable into those conditions. Do not let those Council people get their hands on the data, when you do get it."
"We don't control the situation here, any more than they do."
Miranda leaned closer to the comm mic, and lowered her voice to a harsh whisper. "That is Cerberus intel. Not Alliance. Not Salarian Union. You do what you have to do to secure it, understood?"
There was a pronounced pause coming from the comm before he answered. "Yes, ma'am."
The stainless-steel machine made a subdued, deep noise from within itself. Conical burr grinders crushed the beans gently and uniformly, so as to best preserve essential oils - blade grinders were for the poor and ignorant, one might as well use the family blender - for the brewing process. Proper mineral water imported from the arctic regions of Eden Prime was heated to precisely 96 °C before being mixed with the grounds in a vacuum-sealed chamber.
For three cycles, the solution was brought to boil just for an instant before being allowed to settle. The machine added a hint of cardamom as per the desires of the current user. A small amount of the steaming-hot, frothy mixture poured out into a thickly-bodied but tiny white mug bearing no logo or words - nothing at this base contained a trace of anything that could tie it back to Cerberus.
Dr. Radim Mirko, geneticist and bioengineer, sniffed the contents of the mug in satisfaction. It was his first caffeinated beverage in four days. A severe episode with his biotic implant had left him in incapacitated agony for nearly forty-eight hours. He'd experienced flashes of color, violent nausea, numbness in his extremities, and violent hallucinations.
All well worth it, the geneticist thought smugly. He was the second-most powerful human biotic alive, according to all known Cerberus - and stolen Alliance - combined intelligence.
Finally, things are becoming civilized here. I've had quite enough of this damned camping experience, operations funding be damned.
He raised the small mug to his lips, the handle held in forefinger and thumb.
His door opened, and junior researcher Hartnett entered by a single step, clasping his hands together nervously. Radim paused, poised for a cautious sip of the hot, eagerly awaited treat.
"What is it?"
"Your attendance, sir. Comm room one, immediately."
Radim took his eyes from the researcher, and peered into his small, white mug. With a sound of utter disgust about the irritations he was forced to endure, he set the steaming, premium coffee on his desk. With a longing glance at it, he strode out the door.
Two minutes later, he was in a small, thickly-walled private room designed for only one purpose. The holographic platform flared to life, with a hum and a ring of light at the base.
Radim sighed. "Dr. Lawson, as we just noted yesterday, progress is..."
The hologram assembled a grid of blue lines, forming a human figure. Rapidly, glowing monochromatic textures were applied, and the first discernable details that reached his eyes were of a cigarette being exhaled into a puff of luminescent pixels. Before the hologram even fully assembled, it was speaking.
"...going well. I'm aware. Although I confess that isn't the point of my speaking with you today, Radim. Good to see you again. We've not spoken since you've assumed leadership over Phantom One, and I've not officially welcomed you back into the Cerberus fold."
The geneticist swallowed, hard. "Yes, sir. It's...I'm grateful for the very generous funding, and the responsibility again."
The glass of scotch was lowered from the well-dressed man's mouth. "Do not be so hasty in your thanks. It may have been my call, but it wasn't part of my projection. Dr. Lawson convinced me that your brilliance was being wasted as his assistant, and that you should return to your true calling of engineering biotic enhancement. Considering your history with your first - and only - previous project lead for me, I was understandably reluctant."
The geneticist felt like a bug pinned to a board for examination. "Yes, sir. I regret how poorly that went, sir."
Another sip of scotch. "Losing the facility and staff because of a single child disengaging from your control, followed by you vanishing for three years rather than taking responsibility? Yes, I would agree that it went poorly. If you were not uniquely valuable, I'd have had you retired when we finally discovered you working for Dr. Lawson, after he also left us. I did, however, envision you both as being an asset for the future." The suited man savored another draw on his cigarette. "And here we are."
The blood already drained from his face, Radim focused on the business at hand as a distraction. "Sir, the project is going exceedingly well. We're ahead of schedule. Dr. Lawson's genetic foundation, his recent works with Reaper-based group-control methods, and my biotic engineering have been remarkably compatible. We are close to the production phase of our first field-testing prototype."
"Excellent. Despite the fact this is part of a top-tier Cerberus initiative at the moment, it may surprise you to know that this is not why I'm calling upon you."
"Sir?"
Another puff from the cigarette. "You have a leak. Information on your project was captured and sent out to an Eclipse individual."
Cold fear washed over the geneticist even as the hologram continued to speak.
"One of our field agents eliminated the Eclipse operative before the data could be distributed. In return, our agent was captured and taken to an Eclipse facility, where I've sent...my most valuable asset. If he is true to form, the entire location will be a charred ruin by the time he leaves." A faint, almost fond smirk touched the man's lips as he sipped his scotch again. "But this does not address the issue at hand, which is that you have a problem with your staff."
"I...I don't..."
"Of course not. Fortunately for you, my intelligence-gathering resources are significant. I'll send you the identity of your leak. You may deal with her as you wish. Perhaps she can be useful in some final way. Like yourself."
The link was severed, and the Illusive Man's image dissolved into darkness.
In the silence of the room, Dr. Radim Mirko looked at the dark, dead quantum entanglement projector, and finally found his spine.
"Fuck you," he hissed.
The most powerful human biotic in existence drew in a deep, calming breath. Again, she was waging an internal war that she rarely won. Memories and emotions washed through her, battling with her logical self that, as usual, threatened to be battered, overwhelmed, and crushed.
Restrained, surrounded by men who wore white coats. They cared for her so little they didn't even bother to fake a smile. Above them, in his safe little glass box, was the hawk-nosed man who never let himself be in the same room as her. Watching. Doing nothing.
Trapped in a concrete building that was her entire reality.
One child, alone.
Freezing to death. Now, alive. Someone kept me warm. I'm alive.
Am I grateful or just resigned to living?
Men rushing into her prison cell, piling on her, ripping at her clothes. Hands over her mouth. Guards looking away and smirking.
For four days, they had starved her. One mealtime, the tray simply didn't come in. She yelled and banged at the door of her reinforced cell, and was ignored. The next day, again, the meal-cart went past her door without stopping.
The hunger was an agony. She cramped up with it - bent double from the pain, the emptiness - as her body consumed itself. On the third day, the all-consuming hunger faded - replaced by weariness that she felt in every cell of her body. Zero stayed in bed, limply - too weak to rise without the room spinning around her.
Passage on a worn-out little freighter, with a crew of two. A couple. The woman has a black eye, but she's friendly in a weird, guarded way. Unless the man was around, and then she didn't speak at all - she looked at the floor and was silent unless spoken to.
She brushed my hair. Talked about how long and beautiful it was. Then she talked about how I needed to pay for my board, what little food they gave me, the bed I slept in. It was three weeks out of Pragia. I didn't know how old I was, but they guessed I was fifteen, looking me over and poking at me like I was an item to be judged for value.
I needed the ride. I didn't know how to navigate a ship. Fuck, three weeks ago, I didn't know ships existed. Every little thing was a mystery that blew my mind. If Cerberus didn't teach it to me, it didn't exist. I didn't have credits. I only just found out what credits were. They'd washed my clothes, though. Had a tepid shower. Thought that was nice.
After she brushed my hair, she left. She gave me a long look as she paused at the door, I didn't know what it meant. Remember looking back at her, shrugging, not knowing why she was acting strange. Then she was gone.
The man came in.
I needed the ride. Didn't know how to fly the ship. Didn't have credits. Didn't even know where we were goin', just that it was farther away from Pragia and that's all I wanted.
I just needed a ride.
All I needed was the fucking ride.
The blanket crinkled very quietly as she slowly, by millimeters, moved her arm under the material. Sliding it up her own body, until her hand closed on top of the one that was resting on her naked hip.
A large hand. Strong. Smooth and youthful-feeling, but with prominent knuckles that had hints of scarring she could trace under her fingertips. She already knew who it was. She had studied the hands, when he wasn't watching. Like hers, they had killed so very many.
Unlike hers, they had saved even more.
They'd showed her kindness, over and over again. Asking for nothing.
Once, they had pushed her away. To protect her from herself.
Brushed lightly over Grunt's casket. Blaming himself.
On Pragia, she'd run her fingers over her old desk. The one she used to cry under, as a child. Then she'd walked away, casting a quick glance over her shoulder.
His face had been a mask of bruises and bloodied cuts from the krogan's fists; fighting her fight. She didn't look at his face - she saw his hand.
Tracing the top of the desk. Following the trails in the dust left by her own fingers, only moments before.
Then he stopped. He bent to one knee.
And looked at the empty space under the desk.
She knew, right then, what he was doing.
He'd wanted to go back and save that little girl.
As slowly as she could manage, she shifted and rotated to her left, turning by degrees until she was nearly on her back. The man's large, warm, heavy hand - unmoving and unfeeling - stayed in place as she moved under it. It slid across her hip, and then her lower abdomen. Her shoulder brushed down his bare torso as she moved, excruciatingly slowly.
He murmured something in the back of his throat.
Freezing in place, she stopped her breathing. Her pulse banged in her ears. He'll hear it, she thought desperately, stupidly.
After a moment, she released her breath and continued. When she stopped, flat on her back now, his hand rested just below her belly-button and moved with her body as she breathed. Jack took the large hand in both of hers, pulled it slightly higher to be centered on her flat - almost hollow - stomach, and covered it with both of her own.
Lacing her fingers through his.
Jack turned her head, and looked at him.
Her heart thudded in her ears anew.
In the dark, in the meager orange light cast by the heater, she stared at him, inches away.
Fear.
There was so much of it, it wrapped around her like bands of pressure. Suffocating.
The urge to run screamed in her brain.
Before, she'd always listened. She'd run. Killed anyone who'd tried to stop her.
But it was so very warm here.
So very cold, outside of this one spot.
And as she looked into his face, so relaxed and devoid of all the things she feared to see from him - anger, judgement, dismissal, indifference - she realized this was the one thing she'd always wanted.
Just being together. Embracing. Silent. Warm.
This moment, it was her secret. He didn't know. He'd never know. Here and now, alone in the dark, alone in this frozen land. This slice of time was her possession, and it could never be taken away.
She was alive. She felt, she feared, she breathed, and she felt the warmth of his skin. He'd come after her. Wherever here was, he had followed her.
Being alive had never been a gift. Not a single day had been a treasure.
Now, Jack had this.
The biotic convict felt her eyes sting as they moistened. Her parted lips, panting quietly in the thin air and through the tightness of her throat, turned up into a tiny smile that would never be seen. A single, burning-hot tear traced sideways across her temple, to drip silently from her ear.
"Shepard," she breathed.