Chapter Six
The Widow Strikes Again
Virmire, Hoc System
Without wanting to be overconfident, Sam Traynor felt as though she was beginning to get the hang of the whole infiltration business. Sam did not want to jinx their mission, but so far their incursion into Kor'Amon's base on Virmire had proceeded according to plan. Each of Normandy's three strike teams remained undetected. Personally, she had not fallen foul of any ladders. Not once had her fingers twitched towards the Suppressor pistol nestled against her thigh. That suited her perfectly. She was content to let soldiers like Jack and Kurin play the more heroic roles. Her work was a different kind of violence - stripping defences and ripping through firewalls to steal whatever she could get her hands on. She left a different kind of destruction in her wake, albeit one that was just as damaging – if not worse - for Kor'Amon and his forces.
In front of her in the darkness, she felt rather than saw Tasha Kurin stop moving. Sam was grateful for the asari's keen eyesight as she saw a shadow move in the corridor ahead. What little light there was glinted on the metal of the mercenary's weapon. Even when the shadow had passed, she waited several moments before daring to draw a breath.
The brief pause reminded her of their precarious situation. Across the merc base, the strike teams were moving into their respective positions. With his dead-eye marksmanship skills, Garrus Vakarian was perched on an outcrop overlooking the base. Before the shuttle drop, Miranda had surprised everyone by handing a Black Widow sniper rifle to the turian veteran. The SpecTRe issue weapon had previously belonged to Ashley Williams. Garrus had accepted the weapon without a word, but his eyes had conveyed exactly what the gesture meant. In Garrus' expert hands the Black Widow, with its armour piercing capability and scope modifications, was waiting to be unleashed on the unsuspecting mercs.
Miranda and Jack were personally leading a crack team of marines with the aim of taking out Varek Kor'Amon himself. Jack had been adamant that their aim was to capture him. The hard expression on Miranda's face said otherwise. Given the chance, Miranda would sooner drill the Batarian between the eyes than see him in shackles.
Sam was jerked back to her own mission when Kurin tapped her lightly on her leg. They began inching forward once more. She had to celebrate the fact that mercs favoured darkness. Whether it was for cost saving or environmentally friendly reasons – or just a simple love of the dark – it was ripe for sneaking.
A quick check of her omni-tool told her that they were close to the base's central servers. From there she would attempt to tap into the entire network and hopefully access what she needed before the mercs could purge or destroy the data. Fairly straightforward. It did not help that there was the very real possibility that the mercs would find them crawling around in the dark. The whole game would be up – not to mention the fact that they would probably die very messily.
An exhale of relief escaped her lips when they reached the door to the server room without incident. Sam focused her attention on the locking mechanism. It was encrypted with a high-grade programme, advanced for mercs, but exactly what Sam had come to expect from Kor'Amon's well-equipped forces. An initial scan confirmed that it would take longer than she would have liked to decrypt. She held up her hand to Kurin, fingers outstretched and resisted the urge to wince. Five minutes. The asari ex-commando merely offered up a calm nod in response. Few things seemed to faze the ex-commando, but Sam guessed that had something to do with decades of training.
Her own nerves receded as she turned her attention to the breaking the encryption. With her focus narrowed to her omni-tool, everything else was irrelevant. Her fingers and eyes worked rapidly as she wove her way past layer after layer of security. Sam lost track of time, she could have been there for minutes or hours – although knowing full well that if it was the latter then they were all in trouble.
The pad next to the door suddenly winked green. Sam grinned and instinctively turned to Kurin, her hand held out for a high five. Kurin merely glared at her as though she had lost her mind. Wincing yet again, Sam palmed the door open. She was stopped in her tracks by Kurin's outstretched arm. The asari insisted on entering the server room first. Kurin moved gracefully through the space, checking every blind spot while Sam located the central hub. In the dim glow created by the small blinking lights around her, she assessed the situation. She had known from the start that this would not be easy, but she was determined to approach this as merely another strategy game. As though she was sitting down at a Kepesh-Yakshi table, Sam settled into a sit in front of the hub. With a deep breath, she started to work.
Only a few minutes later, when she had just finished connecting to the system without triggering any alarms, she sensed a presence just behind her. Sam looked over her shoulder to find Kurin looking on impatiently.
"Are you finished?" the asari asked in a perfectly serious voice.
It was Sam's turn to glare.
"We're taking this asshole alive right?"
Although Miranda heard the whisper, she was too pent up to reply. She hated this part – the waiting. The team led by her and Jack was hunkered down in a storm drain beneath the main complex. Little natural light reached the depths where they crouched. A sluggish rivulet of water ran down the centre, smelling strongly of sewage. Miranda was poised beneath a grate, Jack several feet away. Tali had already made quick work of the locking mechanism and alarm.
Replying was pointless anyway. Jack already knew her thoughts on the matter. They would take Kor'Amon alive if possible. Miranda was anticipating that the Batarian would put up a hell of a fight – and the chances of him being killed during the ensuing firefight would be extremely high.
"Cheerleader?" Jack's whisper now resembled a growl.
Miranda knew that Jack was not going to stop until she had the answer she wanted. She responded with a sharp nod, hoping that would suffice. It did not. Jack made no sound as she crept along the drain to take up position next to her, stopping only when she was so close that their armour touched. When Jack wanted something, she was impossible to ignore.
"You know I'd happily pop this scumbag's eyeballs," Jack said in a fierce tone. "But there's a bigger picture here, we need intel."
"He's never going to talk," Miranda hissed angrily in response, not bothering to look at Jack.
"They all start squealing in the end," Jack tried to reassure her. "Our goal is peace, not revenge. I don't want to keep fighting a war for the rest of my life. I want to settle down, raise a couple of mini-Jacks."
Jack's last comment drew Miranda's attention. She turned suddenly, all other thoughts gone from her mind. "You want kids?" she asked in a soft, surprised voice.
"Fuck no," Jack replied as though she had a bad taste in her mouth. "I just wanted to get your attention. Worked like a charm. Are we on the same page here regarding the asshole?"
Miranda scowled. She hated the fact that she had fallen for Jack's ruse. She should have known better. However, at the same time, there was a niggling thought at the back of her mind. The thought that Jack would have made a fantastic – albeit unconventional - mother. Her expression softened slightly and she nodded with a little more conviction. Although she still had little intention of trying to take the Batarian alive, she would at least try to seriously wound rather than kill outright.
Her nod appeared to have satisfied Jack, but she remained close by. They slipped into a welcome silence, listening to the footfalls of the mercs overhead, anticipating the all-clear from Traynor. Miranda tried to block out the stench of sewage, but it was pointless. She knew she would still be smelling it long after the operation was over. An annoying distraction came in the form of Jack's gloved fingers tapping out an impatient rhythm on her thigh. She snapped out to catch Jack mid-tap, trapping the offending fingers in her own hand for a few moments before letting them go again. Jack grinned apologetically in response.
They were all impatient. She could see it on the faces of the team closest to her. Even Tali, whose visor was now clear as to the opaque version that she had worn previously. Miranda could see the Quarian's delicate yet determined features. Yet again she felt thankful that Liara had brought Tali and Garrus back into the fold, and their newest geth recruit. Since going rogue, Normandy's complement of sailors and marines had seemed much smaller. Especially given what they were up against.
{Alpha team, this is Charlie, come in?}
The quiet sound of Sam Traynor's voice via her helmet comms system cut through the silence. "Go ahead, Charlie."
{Mission accomplished, you can…um…start making some noise I guess,} Sam's voice was tinged with relief, and a slight hint of pride.
"Roger that, Charlie. Get yourselves back to the shuttle and leave the rest to us."
Miranda made a mental note to praise Traynor when all of this was said and done. The young Ops Chief was a bona fide tech genius and they were lucky to have her aboard Normandy. She filed the thought away before turning her attention to the messy part of the operation.
"Bravo team, come in. Garrus are you ready?"
{Absolutely,} the turian veteran replied eagerly. {Just waiting for some targets.}
Miranda pictured him getting into position. The Black Widow in his hands trained down on the compound. A quick hand signal brought the team to readiness. Jack crept into position beneath the grate, having demanded the 'fun' of going first. Miranda counted her down, three, two, one-
Jack flared and Miranda followed suit, illuminating their foul surrounds with a brilliant blue light so intense that the rest of the team had to shield their eyes. Then the petite biotic launched herself upwards, her field pushing open the unlocked grate with force. Without stopping to listen to the surprised shouts above, Miranda followed. Her muscles protested after having remained static for so long, but the movement felt good. She sprang up into the corridor behind Jack, her gaze searching for a target and finding none. The two guards who had been present both lay in a tangle of limbs at the opposite end of the corridor. Behind her, the rest of the team were moving swiftly up from the tunnel. They fanned out to cover both directions. Urgent boot falls down the corridor behind them were silenced with two brief bursts of rifle fire.
"We make for the central hub," she announced in a calm voice. It hardly needed repeating, they had all gone over their orders in detail before the drop but it felt good to say it out loud. "Watch each other's backs."
Miranda did not wait for the last of the team to emerge. Their entry point had been purposefully chosen to get them as close as possible to Kor'Amon's command hub. Time was of the essence. It had always been the plan to strike fast, before the Batarian could make his escape. The knowledge that she was only a few hundred feet from her revenge drove Miranda forward. With her corona blazing, she broke into a sprint. The vibrant blue light was now competing with the intense glare of red warning lights. She was aware of an alarm going off, but it hardly registered. The mercs, alerted to a hostile presence, swarmed on their location. She lost earshot of the rest of the squad behind her, any noises they made were swallowed by the intense rushing in her ears.
A cluster of four mercenaries came barrelling down the corridor, but she did not slow down. Even as they trained their weapons on her, she channelled her fury into her movements. She threw herself into a slide the moment they opened fire. Tracers flashed overhead. Before they could readjust their aim, she sent a heavy warp attack crashing into their midst. The whirling biotic mass struck a turian merc at the centre and immediately started eating into his shields. With her forward momentum continuing, Miranda rapidly followed up with reave to detonate her first attack. The resulting biotic explosion was deafening within the confined space. Low to the ground as she was, the radius passed over her head. The small cluster of mercs were tossed about like dolls, slamming into the sides of the corridor. Continuing forward, Miranda sprang to her feet and went back into her sprint. Her hand wrapped around the grip of the Carnifex at her side and the weapon whirred into readiness. She ignored the body parts of the unfortunate turian beneath her boots, focusing instead on the mercs who were still moving. Mercilessly and swiftly, she pointed at the head of each in turn – two quick squeezes of the trigger and their movements ceased abruptly. The whole encounter was over in a matter of seconds, already forgotten as she forged on ahead.
She passed out of dark corridor and into a covered walkway. Miranda could see the central hub, a squat command centre with broad windows up a stairway ahead of her. Her gaze widened with surprise. The intel they had been given had said nothing about a potential door between them and their target. They were supposed to have had a clear run right through to Kor'Amon. Miranda suspected that the door would have been locked down at the first sign of attack. It mattered little in that moment, she had absolutely no intention of using the door. Drawing on the entirety of the dark energy that had been swirling around her body, Miranda directed the pent-up field at the nearest window. The blast was powerful enough to shatter the thick protective glass on impact. Seconds later, Miranda deftly scrambled from the stairs to the railing before launching herself through the newly created opening.
There was a beat of silence after she landed. Those within the control room were still picking themselves up from amongst the shattered glass. For a second that felt like an eternity, Miranda locked eyes with a Batarian. It was a face she knew all too well from the countless images she had stared at over the preceding months – Varek Kor'Amon. His expression was twisted into a sneer – not in recognition of course. She was no more important than any other enemy he had made since coming to prominence. It was a sneer of contempt, that she had dared transgress in his sanctum. Miranda did not waste time with words – he did not need to know who she was or his crimes against her. She reclaimed the dark energy again. It was more difficult this time, the stunt with the window had taxed her, but she ignored her fatigue. The moment that the mercs surrounding Kor'Amon reacted, Miranda targeted the monitors that were suspended overhead. Mass effect fields dislodged the heavy tech from the ceiling and brought it crashing down on the mercs. They flailed and scattered.
Miranda recognised Kor'Amon's second in command, Joram Nazario. Unlike his boss, the turian was unprotected. She coolly took aim and shot Nazario between the eyes, a look of surprise fixed on his face as he fell. Miranda did not remain static. She was already responding to the hail of gunfire in her direction from the mercs that were still standing. Several more well directed shots took out another two mercs, before she ducked into cover behind a console as a hail of gunfire crashed around her. Determined not to take her attention away from the Batarian, she saw him reflected in a shattered pane of glass. He was being shepherded towards a door on the far side of the room by several of his henchmen.
{Lawson, we're right behind you. How the hell did you get through that door?}
Miranda ignored Jack's question, concentrating instead on bursting from cover in pursuit of Kor'Amon. Gunfire from the surviving mercs in the room peppered her shields as she chose speed over cover. She was determined to follow Kor'Amon before another heavy blast door could close behind him. Moments before it slammed shut, Miranda dived through. She barely had time to register her surroundings, focusing on following Kor'Amon up a flight of stairs.
"Someone get this bitch off my back!" His desperate screech was loud enough for her to overhear.
At the top of the stairs she was faced with a massive space – a hanger of sorts, filled with crates and – at the far end, a waiting shuttle. Fuck, he can't reach that shuttle, she thought with grim determination.
{Lawson, where the hell are you?} Jack sounded out of breath. {You better not be on the other side of this damn door. Tali, can you get it open?}
Miranda's eyes narrowed as she watched the Batarian head for the shuttle. There was no way in hell she was letting him escape. She burst from cover, dark energy swirling at her fingertips, the Carnifex raised in her other hand. It took only a split second to weigh up what she was faced with. She heard the sounds of boots on the deck and weapons being loaded. Her gaze took in the glint of light on the armour of dozens of mercs. Under other circumstances, a thought might have crossed her mind that she was in serious trouble. This was not one of those times. The numbers lined up against her were irrelevant when she was so close to her goal. Miranda blocked everything else out, everything beyond the fleeing Batarian. She emptied her Carnifex in his direction. One of the mercs surrounding him fell, leaving a gap in his protection. A thrill coursed down her spine as several shots hit him. Most were absorbed by his shields, but he dropped to one knee clutching his side. Miranda was obsessed with closing in on him, ignoring even the warning lights flashing across her visor. Her shields were critical, but it did not matter. Nothing mattered, not even the human merc across the hanger, training a missile launcher on her. At the back of her mind, she heard the hiss of the rocket leaving its launcher but her usual common sense had long since switched off.
A flash of light filled her vision. The merc's aim had been off and the rocket ploughed into a stack of storage crates beside her. Nevertheless, the heat slammed into what little remained of her shields. The concussive force from the blast picked her up and launched her sideways. She crashed into the hanger bay wall, ceramic plating absorbing some of the impact as the rest reverberated throughout her body. Miranda dropped to the floor, the air knocked out of her lungs. Somehow, she managed to drag herself into cover. One side of her face felt like it was on fire. Her HUD was distorted by the cracks in her visor, but it was easy enough to interpret the flashing red warnings glaring at her – she had no shields and her armour integrity was compromised. Her Carnifex was gone, lost as she flew through the air.
{Has anyone got eyes on Lawson?} Jack's voice sounded urgent over comms.
{I'm on it,} Garrus replied in a steady drawl, {and it's not looking good. She's got a small army between her and our guy.}
Three loud reports drowned out the rest of the noise ringing in Miranda's ears. She immediately recognised a Black Widow sniper rifle being fired. There were three corresponding thuds as the bodies of Garrus' targets hit the floor. Three less now. Miranda peered over her cover, realising that Garrus had used the thermal scope on the rifle to punch through the hanger walls. She brought up her omni-tool, fingers working deftly across the haptic display in an effort to restore her shields. With her armour in the condition it was, thirty-five per cent was the best she could manage. It would have to do. To replace her lost Carnifex, she drew her Hurricane SMG – not a bad backup weapon.
"Garrus, can you keep them off me while I get to Kor'Amon?" Miranda asked through gritted teeth.
{You'd be better off staying put until the rest of Alpha can get to you,} Garrus urged.
"There's no time!" Miranda growled in response, dragging herself out of cover. "We'll lose him. Just cover me dammit!"
{Ignore that order!} It was Jack's voice chiming in. {Lawson, don't you dare-}
Another quick tap on her omni-tool cut the one-sided conversation short. Miranda might have felt a pang of guilt for doing so, but it was lost behind her single-minded focus on her target. She moved out of cover, trusting that Garrus would still have her back despite the disagreement with Jack. Just ahead, a merc raised himself out of cover to fire at her, a split second later he toppled backwards – his head missing from his shoulders. Two more shots followed in quick succession, each one finding another target. The mercs scattered in fear and confusion as they tried to work out where the shooter was. Clearly their terror in having their heads popped without warning outweighed whatever they were being paid.
Miranda still had eyes on Kor'Amon. He was wounded, being supported by two of his goons as he made his way toward the waiting shuttle. She allowed herself to feel a grim sense of satisfaction that her long pursuit was about to be over. Dark energy was getting more difficult to maintain with each passing moment, but she hurled warp fields with precision to remove most of the mercs in her way. She interspersed her biotic attacks with careful bursts from her SMG to keep heads down. Garrus picked off those she could not see, the ones trying to flank her.
The hanger bay rang out with the sounds of biotic explosions and the heavy sniper rifle punching through the walls and into flesh. Each and every shot from the Widow found a target. Miranda was beginning to believe that her foolish stunt had worked.
{Spirits!} Garrus' gasp was punctuated by another sound over the comm channel - the unmistakable sound of mass accelerator autocannon. {I hate these damn things! Ah Miranda, I've got a gunship targeting my location…can't keep up the cover fire…}
Shit. Although Miranda could not listen in on the mercs comms channel, she could pinpoint the moment that they found out their gunship was pinning down her support. She could almost hear the metallic clink of armour and weapons as the mercs shifted position. Instinctively she knew that every rifle in the hanger bay was trained on her. Miranda gritted her teeth as she threw everything she had into her barriers. A second later, the mass effect field surrounding her lit up with the impact of a hail of gunfire. It was the point at which her single-minded determination could have gone either way – suicide or self-preservation. Something slammed into her shoulder with enough impact to send her spinning to the ground. There was no time to assess what had happened as her focus shifted to dragging herself into cover using the one arm that worked properly. Miranda sank back against a crate, feeling somewhat grateful that it was solid, but fearing that cover was only prolonging the inevitable. Her barriers were gone, and she doubted whether she had enough strength left to summon a pinhead-sized singularity. Although she had somehow managed to hold onto her Hurricane, she glanced down at it to find a jagged hole punched into the side of the weapon.
"Fuck," the succinct whisper left her lips.
Her only consolation was that she would shortly be too dead to receive the lecture from Jack she knew she was owed. She hated the fact that her end would come so meekly, but she was too exhausted to stand. She closed her eyes and waited for her failure to take its course. Suddenly, Miranda was jerked out of her stupor by the sound of a biotic explosion on the opposite side of the hanger. It was quickly followed by shouts of alarm from the mercs.
With her good arm, Miranda dragged herself into position to peer around the edge of the crate. She saw several mercs running away from her position, toward a new threat. Miranda caught glimpses of a figure wreathed in blue moving rapidly and gracefully. Although the figure did not stop moving, it could only have been Tasha Kurin. This in itself was unexpected. The asari was supposed to be somewhere in the bowels of the base, escorting Traynor, not saving her from the brink of an embarrassing death.
Miranda managed to drag herself up. At the far end of the hanger, she saw the unwelcome site of Kor'Amon being helped into the waiting shuttle. Miranda had no intention of coming so close only to fail at the last. With a pained cry, she used the crate as a lever to haul herself to her feet. With the mercenaries fully occupied dealing with Kurin, she could scramble out of cover. Her searching gaze caught sight of an assault rifle clutched in the fist of a dead merc. It took everything she had to cross the short distance. By the time she lifted the rifle to her shoulder, Kor'Amon's shuttle was powering off the launch pad. She emptied what remained of the clip in the shuttle's direction. The pain threw off her aim completely and her shots scattered around the door before it closed altogether – sealing Kor'Amon out of reach.
"Fuck!" The guttural yell, a mix of pain and frustration, sounded throughout the hanger.
{What the hell is going on in there!} It was Jack's voice. {Lawson, tell me you're not dead?}
"Not yet," Miranda tried to inject some strength into her voice, but it came out sounding as weak as she felt. "Kurin just showed up."
{Kurin?} Jack sounded rightfully confused. {Okay, we're almost through this damn door. Tali, tell me we're almost through?}
{Ten seconds,} the quarian replied, sounding as though she was concentrating intently.
The assault rifle slipped from Miranda's grasp and clattered to the ground as she stared at the departing shuttle. In a matter of seconds the shuttle – and Kor'Amon – was gone altogether. She followed the rifle to the ground a moment later, crashing to her knees. Black spots swirled at the edges of her vision. She willed herself to lose consciousness, preferring it to facing her failure. It did not come, instead she saw a shape come to a flying stop in front of her.
Jack was there, her features twisted with concern. Her lips were moving, saying something that Miranda could not hear.
The only words that she could make out were her own. "I failed."
Okay, you can do this, Sam thought to herself, holding onto the pistol in her hand with a white-knuckled grip. There's nothing to it. Being alone in a merc base full of hostiles. It's fine, really.
She just had to make her way back to the shuttle. It all sounded simple enough. However, her confidence had fled with Kurin's departure. They had both heard Miranda in trouble over the comms. The server room was almost directly beneath the hanger – linked by an air duct. At the time, it had seemed like the right thing to do – to tell Kurin that she should go and help Miranda. The asari had hesitated for a moment, but Sam had seen the intense concern in her expression. As one of a handful of people who knew how Kurin had felt about Ashley Williams, Sam quickly realised that the asari's feelings had translated into a desire to protect Miranda. Gratitude had flooded Kurin's face when Sam told her to go with the promise that she was more than capable of making her way back to the shuttle alone.
Now, as she gingerly crept along an apparently empty corridor, Sam felt Kurin's absence keenly. There would be nothing between her and a potential hostile – well, except her limited combat capabilities. Sam knew she could use the Suppressor pistol she carried. After all, her aim had been true when she had killed Sarl on Gurkan. The young Krogan's death still haunted her over a year later.
Sam checked her omni-tool for the third time in as many minutes. She was progressing slowly towards her exit – a small skylight that was alarmed with a simple mechanism that she could unlock within seconds. It was now less than fifty metres ahead. She was just thinking that all of this would make a great story to tell EDI when two mercs – both turians - rounded the corner in front of her. All three of them stopped in their tracks and stared, slow to react. Sam panicked, rather than lifting her pistol she turned and ran in the opposite direction. She threw herself behind a pillar at the moment that the mercs found their triggers. Shots pinged off Sam's cover as she tried to fold herself into the smallest possible shape in the corner. At some point, she did remember to fire off a flurry of shots to deter pursuit. They were all wildly off the mark.
"Sorry to interrupt your mission, but I am in a spot of bother," Sam announced over the comm, wishing that her voice did not sound quite so terrified. "Does anyone copy?"
Her desperate question was met with a blast of static. Shit, shit, shit.
After allowing herself several more moments of unbridled panic, Sam remembered that she was not helpless – far from it. She brought up her omni-tool and activated the drone programme that Tali had given her a long time ago. She had never had cause to use it before. A small, red drone materialised in front of her. It bobbed up and down for a moment, as though in reassurance, before it glided gracefully and fearlessly in the direction of the mercs.
Sam heard the drone's electric shock attack activating and the resulting shouts of pain. The mercs were soon concentrating all of their fire on the drone. She brought up another programme, again a gift from Tali. This time she risked ducking around the pillar as she sent an incendiary discharge darting towards one of the mercs. He was distracted with the drone and did not see it until the plasma blast contacted his armour. Sam was torn between wincing or grinning in delight at the resulting screams.
This combat thing is kind of easy if you have the right tools, she thought to herself.
She squeezed off several more shots, this time actually taking the time to aim. The mercenary who had been flailing senselessly in reaction to the plasma, dropped heavily to the ground and did not move. Sam pressed herself back into cover, trying to process the fact that she had probably just killed someone else. Okay, this combat thing isn't easy…
Sam was trying to decide her next move when noticed a small shape rolling past her feet. Her first thought was that it was a small rodent – then she noticed the flashing red light and her eyes widened in horror. Grenade! Instinctively, she turned and flung herself back down the corridor, realising belatedly that it probably would not be far enough. The concussive force crashed into her shields and added to the momentum already propelling her down the corridor. She heard a cry ripped from her throat as she flew through the air. It was cut short as she slammed into the ground.
Something was hurting immediately, but she could not pinpoint an exact spot on her body. The pain was everywhere. The salty tang of blood filled her mouth. When she coughed, droplets splattered onto the floor in front of her. A part of her knew that she had only moments to react before she would be mercilessly picked off, but everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.
She managed to roll over in time to see the turian mercenary approaching, weapon raised. Her own fingers merely twitched around the Suppressor's handle. She imagined Myke hearing that she had been killed, and her eyes burned with unshed tears. Suddenly, the merc's eyes went wide. He grunted and toppled forward only a few feet from her.
Sam could have sighed with relief. The geth, Seven, looked down at the turian's body for a moment before stepping over it. Seven knelt in front of her, and Sam had never been happier to see anyone…or anything.
"Traynor Chief, you appear to be wounded," the platform announced, the panels around its head lifting and raising as it spoke. "We will escort you to safety."
"Thanks…Seven." Sam wanted to say more, that she was glad to see the geth, but her mouth would not work around the words.
She felt blood running out of the corner of her mouth. The last thing she remembered, was the solidity of Seven's limbs as it gently picked her up.
The roiling churn in Miranda's stomach was worse than the burns on her face and the gunshot wounds in her arm and shoulder. Not in the pain sense. Her entire body hurt like hell – which was a consequence of literally being smashed against a wall. Her injuries would have all been a small price to pay had she succeeded in killing Kor'Amon. Instead he had escaped. Miranda had never dealt well with failure and this one weighed heavily. Her body cried out for some sort of rest, instead she was standing in the command hub trying to digest as much information as she could from the base's logs. From what she had read so far, it was apparent that the Virmire base had been an integral part of the Batarian's operations.
"Captain Lawson, ma'am?"
Miranda looked irritably over her shoulder. She found their corpsman staring at her with a hesitant expression. "What is it, Vadera?"
"Err, Doctor Chakwas has a message for you," he began, throat working visibly before he continued, "She told me to tell you that if you won't return to Normandy and report to the medbay or allow me to treat you in the field then she will relieve you of command and restrict you to your quarters."
"I'd like to see her try," Miranda snapped in response. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have felt guilty for taking out her anger on the crew. However her fury and frustration outweighed common decency. "Are we done here?"
"Umm, I'm sorry ma'am but Dr Chakwas said you would say that. And if that was the case then my orders were to tell Captain Zero."
With that said, he stood staring at her, obviously expecting a furious outburst in response. That was of course Miranda's first instinct, but instead she forced herself to draw a deep breath. It was not that she feared what Jack would do or say in response, she simply could not be bothered dealing with it and the associated emotions. Of late, Jack had foregone violent outbursts in favour of a disappointed expression. Miranda had realised that she vastly preferred the outbursts.
"Fine." Miranda gave in. "Just stabilise everything for now and I will see Dr Chakwas as soon as I return to Normandy."
Vadera gave a taut nod. It was easy enough for her to continue scanning the logs as he applied medi-gel to her visible wounds. She winced at the initial stinging in her face, but the pain receded quickly into almost nothing.
"Some of these cuts are deep, they may leave faint scars, ma'am," Vadera said apologetically.
Miranda did not pause reading, but the comment weighed on her mind. At one time the thought of lasting scars might have bothered her, but she had long since stopped caring about her physical appearance.
"I'm going to need to immobilise this shoulder," Vadera announced tentatively.
Miranda suppressed the urge to huff. She wordlessly turned her back on the logs, using the console instead as a place to rest, to let herself be treated without interruption. It was at that point that Jack walked into the command hub. The petite biotic hardly looked as though she had just taken part in a raid. Aside from a few dirty smears on her face, she was untouched.
Jack made no effort to conceal her surprise at finding Miranda willingly submitting to treatment. "Colour me impressed, Cheerleader. Although all of this-" Jack waved her hand in Miranda's general direction, "– is entirely your fault."
Miranda let a ragged sigh escape her lips. She was too exhausted to summon any trace of anger, leaving her simply with resignation. "I had to do it. That additional door wasn't marked in any intel we had so I improvised…and it didn't pan out."
"Fucking right it didn't pan out, you almost got your idiot-self killed!" Jack pointed out unhelpfully.
Jack's concern was from a good place. However Jack should have known that Miranda did not place her own survival above the success of the mission. Had the cost of killing Kor'Amon been the price of her life, she would have gladly paid it.
Miranda shifted her tired gaze to Jack and actually managed a weak, albeit hollow, smile. "I almost had him, Jack. If I had pressed a little harder, I'd have had that bastard. The mission failed because of my lack of resolve."
"Bullshit," was Jack's succinct response. She then elaborated further, "We…or I should say you – I always give credit where it's due – took out Kor'Amon's second-in-command Joram Nazario. Not to mention we just strolled into his most secure base and stole a load of his shit – thanks to Traynor. Garrus managed to single-handedly take down his gunship – and those things are fucking expensive. Then, to rub it in even further, we're gonna blow this base sky high when we leave. I count that as an absolute win. You should too."
Miranda shook her head, even that small movement hurt. "He's never going to let us get this close to him again."
"We don't need to get close!" Jack pointed out. "When we've finished decrypting the intel we've taken today I guarantee you that there will be something we can use to bring him down once and for all. This is the beginning of the end."
Vadera cleared his throat. "I'm done here, ma'am. The doc will be expecting you in Normandy's med-bay fairly promptly. I'd give you a couple of hours at most before she sends someone out looking for you."
"We'll be done well before then," Jack replied on Miranda's behalf. "And I will personally escort her to Chakwas myself."
"Thank you, Vadera." Miranda injected an element of sincerity into her voice to make up for her earlier behaviour.
With the corpsman gone, the two of them were left alone in the command hub. Miranda ignored Jack for a moment to cross to the nearest window. Beyond the glass, the sea shone with enthusiastic intensity. A golden spit of sand stretched off into the distance. It was easy to imagine that she was standing in an exclusive resort as opposed to a merc base, amid dead bodies.
"Do you want the butcher's bill?" Miranda did not reply and Jack continued regardless, "Three walking wounded, all back on active duty within a day. Besides you trying to take on most of Kor'Amon's goons by yourself, the only other serious case is Traynor. She's with the doc now. The last I heard was that she's going to be fine…and with a hell of a story to tell."
Miranda nodded. One piece of good news at least. "What the hell happened with Kurin? I thought she was supposed to be with Traynor, but she shows up in the hanger. She did save my life…but things might not have worked out the way they did."
"Yeah, I've been asking myself that same question," Jack growled. "I'm on my way to find out now. Then I'm swinging by to escort you back to Normandy as I promised. You'll be alright until then?"
"Sure, Jack. I've got logs to finish reading…and a view to enjoy," she murmured.
Jack joined her at the window for a moment. "Fucking pity we can't let the crew have a bit of R and R – water looks damn good. But there'd be nothing worse than a counter-attack catching us frolicking in the surf."
There was a joke to be made there, something about teasing Jack for wanting to 'frolic.' Miranda let it go unanswered. If Jack was expecting a comment, she did not wait for it. Miranda listened to the other woman's boots thudding on the floor as she walked away with purpose.
She was left with just the stunning view for company. The water did indeed look inviting, but Miranda's thoughts instead strayed to what could have happened on this planet. The day Shepard made the fateful choice to save Ashley over Kaidan Alenko. Had Ashley been left to the geth, they would never have met. On one hand, it would have saved a hell of a lot of pain.
Miranda closed her eyes. Memories of Ashley were always floating within reach – her smile, the way the muscles across her back rippled beneath Miranda's fingertips as they made love, the effortless way in which she could disarm Miranda's tension.
No, she reminded herself. She would not ever wish away the fact that they had met and their ensuing relationship. Miranda opened her eyes. With a last, lingering glance at the view, she went back to the logs.
She would simply keep fighting.
Following a lead from Petrova, Jack found their asari crewmember in a storage room just off the main complex. Kurin was standing in front of heavily laden shelves, her back to the door and a datapad in her hand. Jack sauntered in and cast her eye over the room. It was not large, but every available space was taken up with pieces of tech and boxed goods from every corner of the Galaxy. Jack brightened, this was definitely the sort of place where any top shelf booze would be stashed.
"I'm glad you're back, Petrova," Kurin said without turning around. "I've tagged the most valuable supplies to be taken back to Normandy. Black market goods – Turian, asari…even some Alliance gear."
Jack cleared her throat. Kurin's head whipped around. Although the asari was practised in maintaining her composure , it slipped for a moment. Her lips parted in surprise and her throat worked visibly.
So, she knows full well that she fucked up, Jack thought.
"Hello, Jack," she offered up quietly, before returning to her task at hand.
Without saying anything, Jack bounced lightly up onto a stack of crates. Kurin crossed to another set of shelves, deliberately positioning herself so that she could see Jack out of the corner of her eye. From her perch, Jack stared unashamedly at the serious expression on Kurin's face. The young asari's brow was furrowed in concentration. Jack would readily admit that she thought Kurin was alright. Hell, perhaps she even liked her (as a friend of course), but that only made what she had to do more difficult.
Several minutes passed without anything being said. Jack had to start tapping her boot against the side of the crate, causing Kurin to look up with a start. A sigh escaped the asari's lips, before she set down the datapad she held. Kurin turned around fully and met Jack's stare with one of her own. Where Jack expected to find defiance, she found only resignation. The old Jack would have hoped for a fight. 'Captain Jack' on the other hand wanted only resolution.
Jack moved in one swift motion, jumping down from the crates and surging forward to seize Kurin by her chestplate. She opted not to flare, instead using just her body weight to throw Kurin back against the wall. There was a dull thunk of ceramic plating against thermocrete.
"You abandoned your post in the middle of the fucking op and almost got Traynor killed. What the fuck were you thinking?" Jack demanded.
It was no effort at all to inject anger into her voice, her fury was real. Normandy's crew members were a finite resource. Plus, as irritating as Traynor could be at times, Jack had a developed a soft spot for the brilliant young woman.
"I know sorry doesn't begin to cover what I did." Kurin hung her head, looking appropriately remorseful. "I made a tactical error in judgement that could have cost the life of a valuable crew member. I will accept any consequences you see fit, including ordering me to leave the crew immediately."
"What?" As angry as Jack was, for some reason, the thought of Kurin leaving Normandy was unconscionable. That had not figured into her plans. "Look, you're not getting out of this fuck-up by running away."
Bewildered, Kurin shook her head. "I'm not trying to run away-"
"Don't interrupt me," Jack snarled. "You were tasked with staying with Traynor because she needed your protection. That was your assignment for this op. It wasn't up to you to decide that you could bugger off because you made a stupid decision."
"Miranda was in trouble!" Kurin protested weakly. "I was already nearby."
"If anyone can look after themselves, it's the goddamn Cheerleader!" Jack fired back. "She didn't need you to abandon your post and come to her rescue."
Kurin nodded dully in agreement, this time wisely opting not to say anything.
"You're useful in a fight but if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I'm dumping you on the next rock. I don't care if it's habitable or not." Jack punctuated her warning by stabbing Kurin in the chest with her finger. "We've all got eyes. She could turn the head of an asexual hanar, but I haven't got time for you to be infatuated with your CO. Especially not when it puts lives at risk-"
"I'm not-"
"Do I looked like I'm finished?" Jack interrupted with a curt wave of her hand. She then realised that she had run out of things to say. She relinquished her hold on Kurin and stepped back. "Okay, I am finished. Look, I don't care what you have to do, just keep it to yourself."
Kurin was staring at her with an infuriatingly calm expression. "Your jealousy is leading you to false conclusions."
"My what?" It took Jack a moment or two to realise what Kurin was implying. She snorted indignantly. "I'm not fucking jealous. Don't make this about me when you're the one who can't keep things professional!"
"Fuck you, Jack!" Kurin flared in her first demonstration of anger, taking Jack by surprise. "I promise you I have no feelings for Miranda. Unless you want to make more assumptions about things you know nothing about, then leave me the fuck alone!"
Jack's eyes narrowed. Something was off. In her fury, Kurin sounded sincere but there was a discernible undercurrent to her words. The asari wasn't telling the whole truth. While Jack was confident that she could deal with insubordination, she did not want to risk an unknown quantity. In her considerable experience, such unknowns always led to trouble.
Jack stared at Kurin as her biotic field dissipated. She watched the rapid rise and fall of the asari's chest, studying the nervous dart of her eyes. Her suspicions did not rest on Kurin betraying them, somehow that seemed even more far-fetched than the whole jealousy angle. Jack also surprised herself with her ability to remain calm – something which was coming to her more naturally these days.
"I don't know what the hell is up with you, Kurin," Jack said, folding her arms across her chest with an air of finality. "And I don't really care. But you need to swear on your goddess whatshername that your personal shit is not going to bite us all in the ass!"
"I swear." Kurin nodded firmly even though her gaze was still hesitant. "I swear on blessed Athame that I am fully committed to Normandy and her crew. Nothing like this will happen again. I am sorry, Captain. My poor judgement could have cost Samantha her life."
Although unsure whether she was completely satisfied, Jack had no desire to drag out Kurin's wretchedness any longer than necessary. She already hated the sound of the apology coming from the asari's lips and the fact that such a proud individual was reduced to apologising to someone like her. Jack's own history was littered with far worse examples of behaviour and betrayal.
"We're good?" Jack asked.
Kurin tilted her chin up definitely and nodded. Jack did not feel smug about her prowess as a leader, but she was satisfied with the way she had handled the discussion. Perhaps there should have been some fireworks, akin to her fight with Miranda on Normandy's sub-deck, but Jack feared she might have enjoyed that a little too much.
Jack did not leave the storage room immediately. She had already seen that there was some interesting shit stacked on the shelves. And she was keen to follow her instincts to find the booze she suspected was here. If her presence continued to make Kurin feel awkward, that was even better. She made a beeline for some wooden crates stacked against the wall. Although Jack couldn't read what was written on the side, they looked promising and she knelt down eagerly. Her excitement was short-lived after she prised open the lid and withdrew a bottle.
It's just fucking wine. Where's the good stuff?
Jack tossed the bottle over her shoulder in disgust. The expected smashing of glass never came. She stood and turned to find out why. Kurin had caught the bottle and was staring at Jack in shock.
"This bottle of wine is twice as old as me," Kurin said, cradling the bottle with reverence. "It's probably worth five hundred credits."
"You drink it then," Jack said dismissively. "Seen any actual booze?"
Kurin shook her head. "I'm not sure of your definition of 'actual booze' but I've only found the wine. Sorry."
Fucking disappointment, Jack thought as she moved towards the door. She had little interest in the valuable tech that Kurin had identified. Not to mention the fact that she was starving after the day's exertion.
"So…" Kurin ventured as Jack walked past her. "There's…nothing between you and Miranda?"
A loud guffaw escaped Jack's lips as she stopped walking. At another time, years ago, the asari's line of questioning might have driven her into a violent frenzy. Now, there was simply a great deal of mirth, and the acknowledgement that – on one level at least – Kurin was absolutely right.
"Look, I care about the Cheerleader. A lot." These days, that admission came easily – even if it was something altogether different to admit it to someone else. As it was, she could not look at Kurin while she spoke. "I care about her too much to bring fucking into it. Besides, if we were in a relationship we'd destroy one another. We're too similar."
"The two of you are completely different," Kurin's tone was laden with disbelief.
"Not if you dig beneath the surface," Jack replied with a shrug, "Miranda's just better at hiding her demons than I am."
Jack finally turned to look at Kurin. There was a pensive expression on the asari's face.
"She loved Ashley," Kurin murmured quietly, as though to herself.
Something about Kurin's tone sparked a thought in Jack's head, but it was gone before she could puzzle out what it meant. She studied Kurin's face, but it was a composed mask once again.
"Too much," Jack said, shaking her head. "Miranda's the strongest person I know, but that shit will ruin anybody."
In response, Kurin nodded in agreement. The nod was a little too emphatic but Jack had little desire to pry. She simply took it to mean that the asari had loved and lost. There was an awkward pause in the conversation, as though both of them were surprised at the turn it had taken. It had long since passed the point where Jack usually got the hell out. If she were being honest with herself, she would have admitted that it felt good to talk about the Cheerleader with someone else – someone unrelated to all of the shit she had to deal with. She regretted that Kurin's behaviour meant that they could not continue the discussion over a drink.
Kurin suddenly looked thoughtful. "Should I apologise to Samantha?"
"Don't see how that's going to make any difference to her, but it'll be awkward as hell for you so feel free," Jack snorted disparagingly.
She had suddenly had enough of the merc base, despite not finding any booze worth having. She still had a few bottles stashed from their last raid, that would have to do. First, she would deliver the Cheerleader to Chakwas, then she would get properly drunk and do her best to put this shitshow behind her.