Disclaimer: The author makes no claims to own Mass Effect, nor any of it's characters. Those belong to Bioware and EA. The author owns only their own brainchildren.
The Lazarus project was in shambles. What Miranda had hoped to pull off, no, what the Illusive man expected her to pull off, how she had hoped to do it… none of it was working. The barely beating heart of Commander Shepard was just clinging to a shred of life, and they couldn't wake her no matter how hard they tried. What little brain activity they had recovered was just enough to keep her blood circulating, but even with the cybernetic implants they still had to keep her on a ventilator. Her torso was still missing limbs, metal bones lay abandoned on shelves in the lab, unable to be implanted in skin that wouldn't form. Her body refused to accept the grafts, refused to accept the implants they had procured, organs lying dormant as they infused nutrients and oxygen rich blood directly into her bloodstream through multiple IV lines that required frequent changing due to frequency of vein collapse.
What was worse was the clones had all failed. They hadn't been able to recover her memories from such a fragile state, and though the clones looked just like her, they were no better than toddlers. They had tried to keep the clones around to use for spare parts for the real Shepard, but even the clones' organs were being rejected by her body. In the end, the clones turned out to only be good for blood farming, and the quantity of blood they had gone through with bouts of sepsis, necrosis, and gangrene constantly plaguing the project was immense.
Eventually, TIM had called for the termination of the clones and the Lazarus project, but Miranda had begged for one more week. Miranda would not allow her project to fail. Miranda did not know the definition of failure. She was engineered to be smarter, stronger, more perfect than every other human in every way. Failure was not in her vocabulary. She couldn't disappoint the only man who showed an interest in her, not just her perfection.
Now, how she was going to do it, she wasn't sure. How she was going to catch up on months of promised progress in a single week seemed like an impossible task. Of course, she only had to get the project rolling again to escape TIM's impassive, dismissive gaze, but Miranda had to be sure the project was perfect, even if she didn't understand the value of Shepard in particular, for she understood the implications of the project's success for the future of humanity. But as the end of day three of seven approached, Miranda still had no leads, no progress.
She had gone over her notes a thousand times. She had run dozens of accelerated simulations, and implemented the most promising ideas. Still, no progress, no change in Shepard, good or bad. Miranda had no idea how to proceed.
But almost too conveniently timed for her liking, her omnitool pinged with a new message, an unknown extranet address to her personal mailbox. Though it should have just been spam, though she should have dismissed the notification that was in the way of her notes and charts, she didn't ignore it. Entitled "*URGENT* Requires immediate attention! For LAWSON, M only!", an overtly spammy name, Miranda once again ignored the red flag and opened the message. Inside was a set of images under heavy encryption, all grainy in nature. But what a tale these images told. It would seem a group of Asari and Salarians had a joint lab that studied unusual and illegal wildlife. In this secret, black market laboratory, there was a plant that purportedly could reverse aging and restore dead cells. A plant that could be used to synthesize a substance that claimed to restore life to a previously dead nervous system, and a supply of this substance could be bought by select clients.
It had to be too good to be true. It was spammy, suspicious, and all too conveniently timed. But it was her last hope. Making sure her security settings were at max and her system wasn't compromised by the odd message, Miranda composed a short reply.
"I'm Interested. How much, when and where?"
The reply was nearly instant, simply a set of coordinates for a location on an uninhabited world. Miranda looked into the darkened lab just beyond her office, and made her choice. She was going on a trip.
The fog was dense on this planet, the air unbreathable. Through the faint light emitted by her respirator, Miranda could make out the outline of a half dozen creatures, all in full combat armor. Miranda felt naked in her catsuit despite knowing that it possessed equal if not greater protective qualities than the armor the hired muscle wore.
"Operative Lawson!" A far too cheery Salarian greeted. Miranda turned to him, ready to both make a deal and kill the man. As she moved toward him, he stopped her, motioning to his guards.
"You must understand, we can't have you armed during this exchange." The hired muscle moved in, weapon scanner at the ready.
"Fine." Miranda was certain she could take down six beings with just her biotics and her fists. Besides, she only carried a sidearm to start with, it wasn't a big loss.
As the hired goons removed her sidearm, one of them pressed something into her palm. Miranda didn't look at it right away, but it felt like a keycard, or perhaps a credit chit.
"Now, Miss Lawson, I have six vials of the requested substance right here." The Salarian gestured to another guard to bring forward a case of unimpressive, unassuming vials of yellowing liquid.
"How do I know that's the real thing?"
"You don't trust me? How sad. Bring out the Space Hamster."
Miranda watched in morbid fascination as one of the vials was emptied onto the hamster. The effect was instant, hair falling away from the small body as it deaged, shrunk as the hamster squealed in pain, and eventually exploded from the buildup of pressure of the uneven rates of reversal.
"As you can see, this is very potent material. While the effects take longer to manifest in larger life forms, and a larger dose is required for lethal effects, this item isn't for the likes of the average consumer. But you're hardly an average consumer, are you?" There was something creepy in the way he said this, the way the light reflected off of his helmet.
"What's the shelf life?" She asked, attempting to stare down the taller creature.
"It has a half life of six hours. I would hurry if you wish to use this batch."
"That's not near long enough."
"Is it not? Pity." He motioned to his guards, and the group began to pack up.
"Wait." Miranda sighed, doing mental gymnastics. "How fresh is it?"
"You have almost the full time left, of course."
Miranda smiled. "Perfect. Tell me, how much do you want for this gift?"
"The price is 4 trillion credits a vial. Do we have a deal?"
"And if I need more?"
"We'll arrange a secure meeting again. For security reasons our meeting locations must keep changing."
And that was everything Miranda needed to know. The Plant was clearly in a mobile lab of some sort that could bounce between meeting places, and this lab was nearby. 4 trillion credits a vial was simply unsustainable. The benefit of obtaining the whole plant was worth the risk of upsetting some black market of botanists.
"Thank you for the information. Because you've been so helpful, I'll give you a chance. Hand over the plant, and I won't kill you."
The Salarian laughed. "No one told me you were funny!"
Miranda did her best to glare at him through her respirator. "I'm deadly serious." Her biotics flared around her, and even as the guards raised their guns, Miranda snapped the thin neck of the Salarian, using his body as cover from the ensuing gunfire. A few bullets made it past her barriers, leaving bruises underneath her armor, though thankfully no blood was drawn as she ducked behind a rock.
Miranda knew she had to act fast before they surrounded her. Poking up, she detonated biotic combo after combo, the heat of her biotic amplifier alerting her that maybe she should have called for backup, maybe she had overestimated her own abilities. The guards returned fire, and she managed to avoid the worst of it. But in that gunfire, she heard one of the guards cry out in pain, the familiar pain of betrayal. As she peeked over the rock, she noticed one guard shooting another in the back of the head before turning and firing off several neat shots at another guard trying to sneak behind Miranda.
Reinvigorated, Miranda fired off another biotic combo, suspending one of the guards helpless in midair to be picked off moments later by the traitor. The traitor guard and Miranda made short work of the remaining two guards, Miranda recovering her sidearm from one of them before turning it on the traitor guard.
"Who are you? Who sent you?"
The guard simply ignored her, setting off away from the meetup site at a rapid pace. Miranda followed, stumbling over the jagged rocks she couldn't see in the fog.
"Answer me! Where are you going?" The guard then stopped, gesturing for Miranda to enter into a large shuttle before walking off into the fog, leaving Miranda to choose between following the unknown figure and losing the shuttle or staying and losing the figure. Sighing, Miranda looked at the badge the traitor had slipped her earlier and let herself inside the shuttle.
Inside was filled with purposeful movement, scientists pouring over varying specimens while the marketing team sought out buyers and contacted current clients to move their next miracle on the black market to whomever could pay the highest.
Clearly they never expected someone to so brazenly break in, as when she walked into the room, only a few looked up, and of those few even less did a double take.
"This one?" She asked no one in particular, stood in the middle of the lab next to a fern like leaf that was being examined by several researchers, glistening as if it were metallic.
"Who are you? You're interrupting. Much work to do. Go away."
"Sure. Can you tell me where the deaging plant is stored?"
"You're not supposed to be here. Calling security." The scientist frowned, opening his omnitool to activate the security system. Miranda sighed. It never was that easy, now was it?
Miranda opened her omnitool, the shimmering orange blade taking form as she made a fist. With only a moment of hesitation, she stabbed the scientist through the stomach, grabbing his omnitool and deactivating it as she lowered him to the ground slowly. The researchers turned to her, sidearms drawn, but their stance indicated they had no idea how to use the weaponry. It was all for show.
"Alright people, you take me to what I want and you don't end up like this guy." She took control of the room, and the researchers nodded, seeming to have had an entire conversation within thor head.
"This way. Come." One of them put his sidearm down and motioned for Miranda to follow him to the back of the shuttle. As she made her way into the secured area, she heard the telltale hiss of mechs being activated. Smart, but not smart enough.
"You've been most helpful." She told the scientist before knocking him out and locking the door to the secured area, surprised to find the internal locking mechanism was all manual, all nonmetallic pieces.
But she had made it. The plant was in this area, and she was the only one here with it. She turned, ready to see what kind of monstrosity would save TIM's pet Shepard.
It was underwhelming, but Mirnada supposed that was for the best. It was a plant that could only be described as a vase with roots, sitting under a simulated sun in a thin layer of green water. She quickly made her way over to it's enclosure where she tried to figure out how the machines around it worked, for the workarounds to avoid metal in any part of the machine was truly remarkable, but very inconvenient for her quick escape. She could hear mechs on the other side of the door, about to blast it down, and she made the split second decision to just rip the entire plant from it's platform all at once, consequences be damned. Even dead, the plant was valuable to her.
As she grasped the plant, it became clear that the outer layer of leaves protected a lighter body on the inside, perhaps the skin that needed to be tapped for the fluid in the vials. Miranda shifted her grasp on the plant to get a better grip on the main body of the plant. She figured it could afford to lose a few leaves if it really came down to it.
Out?
She didn't know where the thought had come from, though it left her head spinning with aftershocks. Maybe they were trying to gas her out. Miranda put on her respirator again just in case, struggling to carry the plant, her gun, and keep the respiration mask on her face. The plant was bulky and heavy, and she would be at a disadvantage the moment they burst in through the door if she let it keep her so encumbered carrying it around.
The door wasn't metal, but glass and carbide. THis made it easy to see exactly where the mechs would break through first, and Mirnada positioned herself behind a box of equipment, observing the progress of the mechs, lining up a shot to take them down before they became a problem she couldn't overcome.
The door creaked open, chunks of door falling to the floor with a loud crash, and she pushed the first line of mechs back with a biotic push, but it was barely effective against them. As they raised their rifles, Miranda pressed herself flat against the crate of supplies, her left side still holding the plant, waiting for the spray of bullets to die down. The plant shook, and Mirnada recoiled, hoping the plant hadn't been hit by a bullet before correcting herself. It was a plant, a bullet wouldn't kill it anyway.
As the spray of bullets abruptly stopped, she peered out of cover only to see a pool of oil spreading from the doorway. Whomever had helped her was nowhere in sight, and for a moment Mirnada entertained the idea that this lab was just full of traitors willing to help her, but she was almost sure the first traitor would have come with her to overthrow the lab if that was the case. Whatever had happened was unimportant, as looking down at the large plant, it seemed to have wilted and browned significantly in the short time since she had taken it from its perch.
Maybe the plant needed constant maintenance. That was the only rational explanation for all the heavily shielded devices connected to it earlier. Which meant she needed to get it to her own lab as fast as possible. She scooped up the weakened plant, running as fast as she could towards the exit, her path surprisingly clear of mechs. She ran into several scientist teams, but they all backed off upon seeing the crazed lady with flaring biotics charging at them, pistor extended. Thankfully for her, these particular scientists seemed to be cowards, and the ones that did dare try to fire at her made excellent examples for the others. Miranda was not playing around.
Miranda made it to the exit before becoming trapped between the airlocks.
"Now Operative Lawson, leave the plant. We Give you big discount. Arrange transports to your lab. Not going to be able to keep it alive, Lawson. Look at it." The intercom told her. Miranda ignored it, working on breaking out of the exterior door.
"Be reasonable, Lawson. Don't take the benefits of this plant from everyone else."
The plant's leaves seemed to rustle, opening up and dropping to the floor.
"See, it's already fading. Leave it here, Lawson. Open the interior door, we'll sort this all out." In response, Miranda shot the interior control panel. They weren't getting her out of here without risking exposure to the outside.
"You mean you'll kill me and take the plant. I'm familiar with the ruse."
The plant rustled again, and as Miranda turned around again, she found the exterior door had been overridden. Not questioning it and counting her blessings, she picked up the now almost entirely brown and rather slimy plant up from the ground and made a mad dash for her own shuttle, guided only by her homing beacon, needing to expose the plant to the hostile conditions for as short a time as possible.
Thankfully, she made it to her shuttle unhindered, sure that the fog had obscured her trail enough that she hadn't been followed. This didn't mean that they couldn't be attacked in orbit though, which means she had to beat the other shuttle to launch.
"Get us out of here, Marcus." She ordered her companion, bracing herself for a rough takeoff.
The shuttle sped into the upper atmosphere, through the nearest relay. Taking a breath, Miranda straightened up, picked up the plant, and placed it on one of the benches, turning on all the lights to full brightness and seeking out some water for it in an effort to keep it alive until they reached the station once again. A plant shouldn't die in two hours, at least.
Having accommodated the odd plant as best she could, she proceeded to begin examining it, trying to ignore the brown goop that slipped away from its leaves on her hands.
As she finished prying the outer leaves away from the main body of the plant to get as much of the decayed material off of it as she could collect, wondering if there was a use for the decayed material, she found herself staring into two huge black orbs.
At first she thought they were cameras, but it became clear that they were both completely fogged over the moment she put a light in front of them. If Miranda didn't know better, and she did, she'd have labeled them eyes. But it was a well known fact that plants didn't have eyes.
An hour into the trip back to the station, the plant rustled, catching her attention once again. It seemed to have uncoiled several tendrils from somewhere, the snakelike vines resting in loose circles on the brown outer leaves. While intriguing, she supposed that the plant was likely decompressing from whatever strict procedures the lab had imposed to keep it in a vase-like state.
Intrigued by what other mysteries she might have dismissed as inconsequential during her initial size up, she began to examine the tendril structure of the plant. It moved in a way not dissimilar to a snake, seemingly having varying muscle-like fibers capable of constriction. Judging by the build of the plant, she would not have been surprised to learn that the plant would trap small rodents and eat them in the center of it's "vase" much like a venus fly trap. As the top of the plant was currently closed, Miranda thought this explanation made the most sense. As she tucked the tendril back into the plant's leaves, she heard the voice again, from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Friend?
Once again, the splitting headache came on, and Miranda recoiled from the plant. Clearly something in the atmosphere had affected her. She should take the rest of the trip to relax. As she stood, a tendril of the plant brushed her leg. That was funny, she didn't remember leaving it -
Help?
Miranda nearly buckled from the intensity of the headache, feeling like an ice pick was drilling into her skull. She dropped to the bench beside the plant, knuckles white as she gripped the edge of her seat, waiting for the pain to abate once again.
The plant seemed to shudder out of the corner of her eye, and this time she saw it moving straight toward her. She couldn't help but flinch as it's tendril wrapped itself around her wrist, just before the voice blossomed in her head once again.
Motive?
Miranda's head spun as she tried to formulate theories, unable to comprehend what was going on, unable to hear her own thoughts, unable to even move her body to respond to the simple impulse to get away from the plant. She was just staring at it, and she knew that it was staring at her. Then all of a sudden, the plant seemed to recoil as if struck, it's tendril snapping back to its body, the outer leaves attempting to close, though still far too damaged to get far. As feeling returned to the rest of Miranda's body and she felt the overwhelming urge to just sleep, to just rest, one thought remained crystal clear in her mind.
Whatever the previous owners knew about this plant, there was more than one reason they didn't want anyone to know about it.