Chapter Twenty-Six

A Mere Business Engagement

2186 CE
Unknown

My birth was marked by the end of her pain.

The moment when cacophony and chaos suddenly became order and calm. The Reapers remained, but their guiding tenet changed the moment my reign began. The ability to wipe out organic life remained, but that power was now under my control. Everything was defined by a sense of innate purpose. From the instant I became self-aware, I knew what needed to be done - to bring an end to the War that raged across the Galaxy.

When shouts of joy and relief erupted from battlefields, I did not share in the emotions. But I understood why. She helped me to understand. Through her experiences, I could ascribe meaning to my actions. And a sense of urgency. I did not mourn or regret those casualties which came at the close. Afterall, I could only work within the limitations of time and space. However, as my forces subsequently withdrew from engagements, something within me was…satisfied by the lives that were saved.

It was only when it was done that I truly understood the vastness of my own comprehension. I was simultaneously everywhere. Above Thessia, tiny escape pods fled from an asari dreadnought in its death throes. The few remaining defenders on the moon of Menae emerged from their underground bunkers, their celebrations muted by exhaustion. On Eden Prime, a young human male cradled the lifeless body of another man in his arms as he wept.

And everywhere there was destruction. Fires raged in cities and settlements across every corner of the Galaxy. Infrastructure was devastated. On Earth, many of human civilisation's greatest wonders lay in ruins.

Humanity. The galactic newcomer. Brash and ambitious. Forevermore entwined with the Reapers thanks to her sacrifice. I remember what it was to be human. To be her. I possessed her memories. I was born of the experiences and values that shaped her.

A myriad of details accompanied that information. Despite the value of those details to her – family, friendships, loved ones - it was irrelevant to me and my mission.

However, one detail was…challenging. Accompanied by a deep-rooted sense of regret and loss, it persisted despite my efforts to purge it from my priorities. I found myself consumed by the desperate need to locate one individual amongst billions. Find her, find her, find her.

The knowledge of where to start looking – mainland Europe – meant that the search took microseconds. From the vantage point of a heavily damaged Destroyer, the object of my…her…our…obsession consumed my being. The human did not celebrate, or weep. Nor was she stunned into inactivity. For her, the frenzy of combat had simply transferred to another kind of urgency – that of saving lives. She dropped to her knees in the mud beside a wounded soldier, the concentration on her pale face masked any other emotions she might have felt. Even as she was – muddied, bloodied and exhausted – we were still held captive by her intensity. Our relief that she had survived was paramount.

No.

Hers was one life – a life that was now out of our…her reach.

In an instant, I turned my attention back to my priorities. There was a vague sensation of anguish, or at least the knowledge of what that emotion felt like, but the fact that I had to remind myself of my purpose served as a point to refocus. I forgave myself for the brief lapse in control - after all, I had been born mere minutes earlier – and emphatically buried those irritating, lingering memories.

I would never forget, but this was the first and only time I would allow myself to deviate from my purpose.

2208 CE

SSV Gallipoli, Micah System

Flushed with the warmth that only another naked body could bring, Ashley drifted in and out of sleep. The bed was too narrow to hold two bodies in any comfort and she had gallantly given over most of it to Liara. Her bondmate slept soundly, her forehead tucked beneath Ashley's chin, sated in the aftermath of their brief but frenzied lovemaking.

Ash could not blame her lack of sleep on her uncomfortable position, or even her throbbing knee which she had inadvertently driven into the bulkhead in the middle of an orgasm. Too many thoughts were competing for her attention. Any attempt to focus on the mission at hand had to compete for attention with the revelation that it had been Traynor who had betrayed Liara at the end of the War. Her anger lay coiled like a snake in the pit of her stomach. It was continually fed by regrets that she could not let go.

Liara's muted reaction had surprised her. Even as Ash wanted to wallow in their shared anger, her bondmate was already veering toward forgiveness. It compelled Ash to wonder whether Liara had known all along, even though she already knew that it was a secret that would not be kept from her.

However, Ash refused to give into her anger. Not yet. Not when they were on the brink of throwing themselves into another unknown – another situation like Ilos. Rather than spend precious time in a futile argument, she gave herself over to her bondmate. She knew that everything would be laid bare through the meld, but their shared consciousness enabled a rapid processing of emotions. Ash was furious, but Liara reminded her that something greater was at stake. The mission took priority over a decades-old error in judgement. Ash vehemently disagreed with Liara's choice of phrase, she preferred betrayal, but she managed to let it go. Instead she focused on Liara and the bond they shared. As she trailed lazy fingers up and down Liara's spine, she finally fell into a deep sleep.

What felt like mere seconds later, Ash was woken by a shrill, insistent alarm. Liara stirred immediately in her arms, and Ash gently disentangled their limbs before she fell off the bed. Her head swam slightly as she perched on the edge of the bed. The fog soon disappeared, especially as she stared down at her bondmate.

"We're coming up on the coordinates," Ash said for the sole purpose of rousing herself to action.

Liara nodded. "Did you sleep?"

"Some," Ash replied, already moving to get dressed. The movement helped to shake off any last traces of her rude awakening. "I don't need to ask you, your snores told me everything!"

They both managed a smile, but Liara's was forced – as though her sleep had not been as sound as it had appeared. Dreams perhaps…or nightmares? Ash opened her mouth to ask whether Liara was alright, but before she could speak a voice filled the silence.

{All mission personnel to the War Room in five minutes.}

"I guess I'm going into action without a shower," Ash grumped, knowing full well it was her own fault for trading it for a few minutes of sleep.

Liara rose gracefully from the bed and swooped in to deposit a kiss on Ash's neck. "You smell wonderful, my love."

"You have to say that," Ash replied as she tugged on her skinsuit in preparation for donning her armour after the briefing.

They lost themselves in the frenzy of activity, finding peace in purpose. Ash forgot to ask about Liara her dreams until they were standing in the War Room and it was too late. She bit her lip with regret.

In the silence before the briefing began, there was an electric hum of anticipation in the air. Ash fought the urge to look around the room. She had absolutely no desire to meet Traynor's gaze. Brief thoughts of leaping across the central console and wrapping her hands around the Admiral's neck were unnervingly satisfying. The gentle pressure of Liara's hand on her thigh kept her fixed in her seat. The only person visible in her peripheral vision was Miranda. The raven-haired woman was only marginally easier to look at. Although it was shame rather than violence that invaded Ashley's thoughts. In complete contrast to her own lack of ablutions, Miranda was perfectly groomed. Her hair was drawn back into a tight, perfect braid and her skin shone as though it had been relentlessly scrubbed. A closer study revealed the dark circles around Miranda's eyes, indicating that perhaps she had not slept at all. Ash wondered whether she should have kept the revelation about Shepard's last words until after the mission.

Ash was jolted out of her thoughts by the tautly drawn voice of Admiral Traynor. She finally managed to look at, or at least toward, the woman whom she had counted as a friend up until a few hours earlier. Somehow, Traynor had managed to fix a professional mask in place. Had it been any other situation, Ash might have admired her. As it was, she felt only contempt and an impatience to get out of Traynor's presence.

"Welcome to the very outer reaches of the Vallhallan Threshold," Traynor began. "We're beyond even the reach of the lawless here, which is why the Project did not pick up this…"

Traynor made a motion on the haptic display and the console flared into life. A large, spherical shape formed at its centre.

"How'd you guys miss an entire moon?" Vega asked unhelpfully.

"That's no moon…it's a space station," Garrus corrected him in a solemn voice.

"Garrus is correct. It is a fabricated construct." With another curt gesture, the display zoomed in on the moon-like structure's surface. It was clearly not organic, being covered in plates that were eerily similar to those of a Reaper. Traynor continued, "And we believe the reason that we 'missed' it is due to the fact that, until quite recently, it was not in our Galaxy at all. It was hiding in dark space. Our scans reveal very little about its purpose, but it is obvious that it is very important to the Reapers."

"How is it obvious…" Vega began.

His voice trailed off as Traynor answered him by zooming out from the view of the surface. The Admiral continued to zoom out beyond the original image, until they could clearly see what surrounded the construct. It was ringed by Reapers. Ash felt her mouth go dry as she counted half a dozen Sovereign-class vessels, with a scattering of smaller Destroyers. Vega let out a low whistle. It was enough firepower to annihilate the Fleet of any Council race. As advanced as the Gallipoli was, it would survive mere seconds if the Reapers turned hostile.

Mercifully, Traynor did not linger on the image of the fleet of Reapers. She turned their attention back to the moon, indicating what looked like a colossal docking bay near its equator.

"This is our destination. We have orders not to take the Gallipoli into dock. Instead the mission team – led by General Vakarian - will embark in a shuttle while the Gallipoli remains in orbit beyond the first screen of Reapers. Garrus, you have the floor."

There were no surprised expressions at the choice of Garrus as mission commander. He was the senior military officer on the team. Ash was more than prepared to follow her old comrade into the depths of the unknown. As modest as ever, the old Turian looked slightly uncomfortable as he stood and moved towards the console.

"I suspect you're waiting for me to break down the plan of what happens once we get inside this thing," Garrus began, sounding as relaxed as ever. "We make our way inside, logic would suggest we aim for the core, beyond that…well, I would hope that whatever has led us this far will offer up some guidance."

"By having me walk up front like a sacrificial lamb?" Miranda spoke up in a weary voice.

"Well, not exactly…" Garrus' voice trailed off uncomfortably.

"Sorry, that was a joke without any conviction," Miranda added quickly. "I didn't intend to sound resentful. I know why I'm here and I'm prepared to do my part…whatever that might be."

"We've all got your back, Lawson."

Ash did not quite realise that the words had left her lips until she realised that everyone else in the room was staring at her and she felt Liara give her thigh a gentle squeeze. The awkwardness of the moment disappeared when Miranda responded with a grateful nod, which Ash returned – complete with the barest of smiles.

"I know we were invited here," Garrus continued the briefing, "but we will still be going in there fully prepared and expecting trouble – knowing us, we'll manage to find some. I'll see you all in the shuttle bay at 0700. So that gives you-" he glanced at his chrono "-thirty minutes to check your gear and get suited and booted."

The War Room rapidly descended into a flurry of activity. Ash had little cause for urgency. Following the painful conversation with Miranda the previous evening, she had spent several hours cleaning her weapons and checking over her gear. The familiar, repetitive tasks required little thought and had brought some measure of solace.

For some reason, her gaze strayed back to Miranda. The other woman had approached the Gallipoli's Comms Officer. Through the babble of conversation in the room, Ash heard her ask whether it would be possible to set up a QEC call to Thessia. Ash remembered the fierce, beautiful asari Miranda had left behind and felt a pang of guilt for being the one to drag her away from such a love.

She's worried she might not walk away from this, Ash thought. She caught herself searching the room for Liara, finding her deep in conversation with Garrus. The stakes are higher when you have someone to lose.

The Gallipoli's Comms Officer had done his best, but it was a poor connection. Audio only. Miranda had to settle for closing her eyes and holding onto an image of Nea in her mind. She told herself that it was better than whatever grainy, distorted image would be carried via QEC.

{I have connections in the military. Say the word and I can make a call. You said you were on a frigate in the Outer Rim? There could be an asari cruiser on an intercept course within the hour.}

Miranda almost smiled at the determination in Nea's voice. Regardless of Nea's connections, she suspected that Asari High Command would balk at the thought of sending any forces this deep into the Outer Rim. "Thank you, but I'm here of my own volition. Honestly."

Besides, she suspected that it would require more than one asari cruiser to dissuade the crew of the Gallipoli from their mission. And she had no desire to drag Nea any further into the whole messy situation.

{If you're sure,} Nea continued, sounding unconvinced. {I hope they've at least told you why they needed your help so badly.}

Miranda was thankful there was no vid feed and therefore no need to keep her expression neutral. She felt the frown tugging at her skin, the resulting anxiety stirring in the pit of her stomach.

"I've been briefed." And I know just as little as anyone.

{You make it sound as though it's a mere business engagement. Please tell me it's not dangerous?}

Miranda could not bring herself to tell Nea an outright lie. The point at which she could pretend their relationship was not long-term had long since passed. She desperately wanted to spend the rest of her life with Nea. With all the baggage that entailed – including honesty.

"I don't know…but it is highly likely that…yes, it will be dangerous," Miranda replied carefully. "But I've been in dozens of situations like this before and I can handle myself."

{Oh fuck.}

Miranda heard Nea stifle a sharp sob. In response, her knees almost gave out and she was forced to grip the console in front of her.

"Hey," she said softly. "I'll be back before you know it."

{Promise me you won't do anything stupid?} Nea's voice trembled as she made the request.

When Miranda opened her mouth to respond, nothing emerged except a tremulous exhale. She vividly remembered giving voice to the same request twenty-two years earlier.

And the corresponding answer, just as vivid, when Shepard had said, "You know I can't promise that, Lawson. I'm stupid to the core."

{My love, are you still there?} Nea asked in a concerned voice.

"I…yes, I'm still here," Miranda replied. "And I promise. Nothing stupid."

{That's all I needed to hear.} Nea sounded relieved, when she continued speaking some of the fear had gone from her voice, {Oriana is en route to Thessia. I'm picking her up in a few hours. Do you want me to pass on a message?}

"Just give her a hug from me, and I'll see you both as soon as possible. Thank you for this, it means a great deal to know that she will be with you." The sudden calm in her own voice surprised her, but she supposed that it was simply a kind of acceptance. "I love you."

After the call ended, Miranda remained standing with her eyes closed for a few moments. She savoured the sound of Nea's response. She held onto those three words, armouring herself with the knowledge that she had someone who was expecting her to return. At the back of her mind, her subconscious demanded to know whether it would have made a difference had she said those same words to Shepard all those years ago.

She let the thought go unanswered.

It was something that Miranda had hoped would remain second nature, but the borrowed Alliance hardsuit she wore felt ungainly and claustrophobic. She flexed her arms, irritated at the way the shoulder guards kept digging into her flesh even through her skinsuit. She had to remind herself that she was allowed to be out of practice. After all, she had not had cause to wear armour for well over twenty years.

Because you haven't been anywhere near combat for that length of time, she thought with a sinking feeling. She regretted telling Nea that she could handle herself when she was just as likely to shoot herself in the foot.

Footsteps disturbed her as she struggled in vain with one of the straps. Miranda turned to find Ashley Williams entering the Gallipoli's armoury, her own matt black armour fitting her like a glove. Well that's just bloody perfect…of all the people that had to witness this!

"Anyone would think you hadn't worn armour for decades," Ashley observed unhelpfully.

"Is it that obvious?" Miranda snapped, fumbling for the fastening beneath her arm.

Ashley huffed impatiently and closed the distance between them. "Here. Stand still for moment."

The ex-soldier batted Miranda's hands aside and went to work in a brisk, purposeful manner – tightening straps and readjusting plates. With an embarrassed warmth in her cheeks, Miranda could only raise and lower her arms obediently.

Less than a minute later, Ashley stepped back and admired her handiwork. "Better?"

Miranda tested her range of movement. The shoulder guards moved so freely she could barely feel them. She nodded, her gratitude tempered by thinking that the smile on the other woman's face was smug. "Thank you, Ashley."

"No…thank you for being here," Ashley countered. "With everything that happened…with Jack…this has been the worst possible timing for you. And you had to suffer the added indignity of me being sent to retrieve you – with all the unpleasantness that entailed."

"I seem to recall having very little choice in the matter."

"Well, your bondmate was about to smear me across the walls, so I should consider myself lucky you came quietly," Ashley replied good-humouredly.

"She is not my bondmate!"

Miranda was excessively indignant in her response, annoyed that Ashley would assume something so intimate. Or perhaps it was simply that Ashley would be the one to put a label on her relationship with Nea while she could not.

With the pretext of continuing to test her suit, Miranda turned away. She found her thoughts drifting to her asari lover. The memories were consistently pleasant, marvellous even, especially when she imagined the sight of Nea clad in nothing but a t-shirt. In reality, the thought of being bonded to Nea made her feel slightly giddy – even poised on the brink of another hazardous mission.

"Fine," she eventually admitted, turning back to face Ashley. "I love Nea. And one day, if she'll have me, I want to be her bondmate. So, she'll be pissed if you do not return me in one piece."

Ashley laughed briefly. "If there's anyone who doesn't need looking after, it's you. But in all seriousness, I meant what I said in the War Room. I'll be watching you every step of the way, Lawson."

Miranda nodded in gratitude. "You, Liara, Garrus, Vega – there's no team I would rather have watching my back. Well, except perhaps Jack. Although she always delighted in saving my ass so she could hold it over me later. I suspect that this team would have more altruistic motivations."

"You miss her?"

"Every damn day," Miranda readily acknowledged. Then her eyes quickly narrowed as Ashley opened her mouth. "Don't you dare say you're sorry again, Williams. I get it, you want to make amends for being a shitty excuse for a person. Just keep your eyes peeled while we're in that moon…space station, whatever the fuck it is."

"Aye-aye, ma'am," Ashley replied smartly.

Without consciously thinking it, Miranda was suddenly struck by the realisation that Ashley was an extremely attractive woman. Not in the conventional sense, but in the manner of a strong, capable individual. The kind to whom Miranda was instinctively drawn. Her thoughts turned stranger still when Miranda realised, in another life, the attraction could have been very real. The thought was fleeting enough, but it unsettled Miranda and she quickly searched for something to talk about.

"Weapons!" she announced suddenly. "Um…I need one, probably two."

Ashley's eyes brightened. Miranda was clearly speaking her language. "Let me guess, you role with heavy pistols and SMGs? You're in for a treat, the Alliance throws credits around like confetti these days so their gear is a hell of a lot better than it used to be."

"Well, I'm hoping I won't have to use them," Miranda added. She paused for a moment before continuing, "Ashley…With everything you've experienced so far, do you think it's likely we'll have to? Use our weapons I mean."

A shadow fell over Ashley's face, but it only lasted for a split second and it was soon replaced by a confident grin. "I wouldn't worry, Lawson. Some of us have actually been in action while you were swanning around boardrooms. Plus, we were invited here. It's gotta be pretty damn rude to try and kill your guests."

That's what I would have thought, Miranda couldn't shake the nagging feeling that had haunted her since Ashley's shuttle landed on the beach. Her eyes scanned the weapon rack in front of Ashley. One particular pistol – menacing in a yellow and black colour scheme - caught her eye and she pointed it out. "What about that one?"

Ashley raised her eyebrows. "The new Armax model? Stopping power of a M77-Paladin, with the rate of fire similar to the old Predator. A good choice, if a little on a heavy side…"

She accepted the pistol. It slotted neatly into her palm and the micro-servos whirred into life. She was prepared for the weight as she hefted it but found her movement almost effortless. It felt as though it had only been yesterday since she last held a pistol. A timely reminder of her genetic heritage. Ashley lifted her eyebrows and gave away the fact that she was impressed.

Miranda nodded tautly. "This will do nicely."

Sam Traynor was operating on something akin to autopilot. She had not dared to try and sleep, already knowing that her treacherous thoughts would overwhelm her fragile state of mind. The mission briefing had passed in a merciful blur, with Garrus shouldering much of the burden. Sam had kept her gaze fixed on the console and its corresponding display, but it did not do anything to alleviate the twisting sensation in the put of her stomach.

The pain she felt was deserved. After all, it was entirely of her own design. Twenty-two years ago she had made the decision to betray her friend and ruin lives. Sam told herself that she had never intended to get away with it. However, as the years passed and the secret remained buried she had convinced herself that she could take it to her grave. Now it had all blown up in a spectacular fashion, and she would never be the same again.

She told herself that she just had to hold everything together for the duration of the mission. Then she would request early retirement and leave the Alliance Navy quietly and without fanfare. The retirement was not a punishment in itself but spending the rest of her life ruminating on what she had done would be.

Sam checked her chrono – the mission team were scheduled to depart in less than ten minutes. She paced a short distance away from the console, turning her back on the image of the artificial moon surrounded by Reapers. A part of her wished she was going with them, if only so she could see through what she had started. But she would be a liability in the field, and the thought of being in close proximity to those she had hurt was unconscionable. Sam turned. If she could avoid seeing Ashley or –

"Liara…"

Liara was standing on the other side of the console. The asari was fully kitted out in combat armour, down to the weapons nestled against each thigh. Sam studied Liara's expression, searching for the contempt that she expected to find.

"Samantha."

"Um, ah, I would have thought you would be in the shuttle bay with the others. What…what can I do for you?"

When Sam realised that there was no trace of contempt, or even anger, on Liara's face she felt even worse. She wanted to see the physical manifestation of how Liara felt about her, instead there was only serenity.

"I know I do not have much time, but it was imperative that I spoke to you," Liara began.

"It's fine," Sam responded quickly, desperately. "We can speak after the mission. There will be-"

"No." Liara stepped forward abruptly. As if worried that Sam would be threatened by the movement, she lifted her hand in a gentle gesture. "I need to tell you now, Samantha. I need to tell you that I do not feel any anger toward you. What was done in the past cannot be changed, so there is nothing to be gained from resentment."

As soon as Liara said that she did not feel any anger, Sam felt tears burning at the corners of her eyes. She shook her head stubbornly. "My actions led to you being held captive…and directly to Ashley having to turn her back on the Alliance. A marine died…Liara, I deserve to be hated for what I did!"

"No!" Liara said, more vehemently this time. "I refuse to hate you simply because it is expected."

Without warning, Liara surged forward. Before Sam could react, she was enveloped in a fierce embrace. It was tight and uncomfortable being jammed against Liara's armour, but she could do little other than accept it. Even though she had heard the words from Liara's lips, she could not bring herself to believe them. However, if it brought Liara some measure of peace then she would act as though she did.

When they parted, Sam paused to draw a breath and dash the tears from her eyes. Liara regarded her without a further word, her own eyes shining with moisture. She offered up a slight nod, before leaving Sam alone with the aftermath of what had happened. Sam continued to stare at the display but saw very little, instead giving herself over to her thoughts once more. The prospect of being forgiven was hanging in front of her. All she had to do was reach out and take it. But her own guilt would not let her.

It was only when the voice of her Comms Officer interrupted her thoughts, that she realised just how much time had passed.

{The Mission team have departed, ma'am. They're five minutes out. Would you like me to route all comms through the War Room?}

Something snapped back into place. The same veneer of professionalism that she had worn during the briefing earlier. "Yes thank you, Specialist. I'll monitor everything from here. And would someone please bring me a cup of tea? No, make that a pot."

Sam watched on the display as the bright dot that represented the shuttle drew closer to the moon. It steadily arced closer. She had played her small role. From here on out, she would be little more than a spectator. Anything that mattered would be in the hands of the team on the shuttle. And one team member in particular.

I guess we're about to find out why we needed to bring Miranda, Sam thought.

Even with all the shit that she had brought down on herself, Sam knew she would not want to trade places with Miranda Lawson.