Chapter Two
Belligerent Unpatriotic Attitude
Armali, Thessia
A breeze created ripples in the water of the decorative fountain, twisting Mycea Kasos' scowling face into something more distorted. It suited her mood, and she dashed her hand against the water. The whole edifice angered her. What kind of people prioritised the re-building of a fountain in the wake of a catastrophic war?
Across Thessia, the various asari governments had created a convincing veneer of order and prosperity. Rationing had curtailed widespread famine some months earlier - alongside a system of distribution that could only have been developed by a race as zealous as the asari. The widescale destruction was being repaired, although resources were concentrated in the powerful cities. In some cases, being wasted on trying to restore grandeur first, as opposed to the necessities.
There were no scars of war in the plaza where Myke loitered. Except if you knew what to look for in the painstaking newness of the construction and the perfectly manicured, young plants bordering the fountain.
Thessia was an illusion. It may have looked nicer than Omega, but underneath the surface it was just as ugly. When you scratched the surface, the scars began to bleed. There were asari still living in temporary shelters. Alongside Samara, Myke spent much of her time in the communities far from the places of power. It was where she felt the most useful – running errands, ensuring supplies reached those in need. In some ways, it reminded her of her life on Omega. Except that she had a grand house to return to – albeit one that was half in ruins. And there was no hiding the fact that Thessia was under a system of martial law. Even she could see that the systems keeping the peace on Thessia bordered on the brutal.
At least Omega never tried to hide what it was.
Myke also missed Sam. She didn't regret her decision not to join the crew of the Normandy. After her first and only disastrous foray into their world, she knew that there was little she could contribute. What she did want was more time together. She could count on one hand the number of times they'd seen each other since parting. Although once that had involved a whole glorious week frolicking on the beaches of Nevos. And frolicking definitely was the right word for it. She now knew exactly what sand felt like, and just how unpleasant it could be when it got into all the cracks. Not to mention sunburn. Her delicate spacer skin had darkened and then peeled unattractively. It had been worth it though.
With her eyes closed, Myke smiled at the memories. Sam had tried to teach her to swim, but she'd panicked the moment the waves had lapped at her thighs. Like the petulant maiden she was, Myke had refused to go in any further. Even the fact that Sam had been naked hadn't been enough to coax her out further.
Pleasant memories drove her foul mood away, and she lingered in a contented reverie.
"You there!"
A sudden shout interrupted her just as she was picturing the way the salt water glistened on Sam's dark skin.
"Stand when we address you!"
Myke wrinkled her nose at the disturbance to her daydreams. She cocked one eye open, only to find that three leather-clad commandos were standing in a half-circle around her. Clearly, she was their intended target. Myke had long since lost her infatuation with commandos. Nor was she remotely intimidated by them. They were mostly bluster and very little action.
"Let me guess, I'm sitting on the sacred fountain of Athame's azure?"
"What is your occupation?" the nearest demanded.
Myke stared blatantly at the haughty looking maiden clearly trying to pass herself off as older than she was. The maiden was a hundred and twenty at most. Definitely not old enough to wear that expression.
"Well I was quite happily occupied thinking about my girlfriend's tits before you three came along. If you piss off, I can get back to it."
'Piss off' was a phrase she'd picked up from Sam. One that she enjoyed using immensely. Unfortunately, it didn't have the desired effect on the three commandos. Instead they stared at her as though she'd told them all to go fuck themselves. Which incidentally, was about to be the next sentence from her lips.
"Loitering is an offence under martial law," the other maiden injected far too much self-importance into her voice – and pleasure. "Punishable by a month's hard labour. And an additional month for your unpatriotic attitude."
Warning bells ought to have gone off in Myke's head at that point, but all she saw were the three upper-class asari judging her – or trying to judge her – and her temper flared.
"Since when is waiting for someone a crime?" Myke snapped, finally rising to her feet. "Shouldn't you be focussed on helping people instead of punishing them? You can all go fuck yourselves and this pox-ridden planet."
In hindsight, Myke knew that her big mouth had just landed her in a steaming pile of varren-shit, but the outburst had felt good. And she was getting a kick out of the indignant expressions on the faces of all three commandos. There was also an element of confusion - as though they weren't used to someone speaking back to them and had no clue as to what to do.
"Are we just going to let this pyjak get away with that, Rhana?" one of the others spoke up, almost nervously.
The next thing Myke knew, her feet were swept out from beneath her and she found herself horizontal, facing the trio at waist height. While it wasn't painful, being restrained against her will did nothing for her mood. Not for the first time, Myke wished she was back on Omega.
"You're all brave as long as it's three against one," she muttered. "You could all do with a swift kick to the azure."
The one she guessed was Rhana, leaned in close. "What did you say?"
"Nothing," Myke replied sullenly, finally appreciating that she did need to shut up. She wondered if Shepard would believe her when she said that she had literally done nothing.
"We're taking you in," Rhana announced, opening her omni-tool. "Name?"
Myke rolled her eyes. That wasn't happening. "I've got a better idea, how about you let me go about my business, and I don't tell my boss about this little incident?"
Rhana snorted blatantly. "Athame forgive me, I find the prospect of you being gainfully employed somewhat unbelievable."
"Well forgive me, but I find you to be a colossal cunt."
Even as the words left her mouth, Myke knew that she'd pushed too far. This time, there was pain as the dark energy pinning her body shifted, pulling each of her limbs in different directions. She couldn't hold back a shriek of pain.
"Can I be of any assistance in this matter?"
Myke had never been so grateful to hear that particular monotone. Although she couldn't see Samara approaching, she saw the change in the body language of the three commandos. Their confidence and bluster drained swiftly, replaced by a very palpable fear. Finally, Samara came into her limited field of view. The justicar's attention was directed at the three commandos. Myke would have smirked, but she knew that Samara's withering stare would eventually turn towards her.
"Justicar…um…this is a civil matter. W-we have it well in hand."
"If my acolyte has caused any disruption, then I must apologise profusely and request that you transfer her into my custody. I will punish her as the code dictates. What are the charges?"
"Ah…the charges?" Rhana spluttered, looking to both her companions for support. Finding none, she continued, "Loitering, Justicar. Loitering and a belligerent, unpatriotic attitude."
"Then I will ensure that she receives an appropriate punishment. If you would release her, we will swiftly remove ourselves from your jurisdiction."
The biotic fields holding her in place suddenly disappeared and Myke dropped like a stone onto the tiles. "Ouch! She didn't say drop me on my head, you-!"
Myke caught Samara's eye and promptly shut her mouth before finishing her tirade.
All three commandos nodded their heads respectfully, while Rhana spoke on their behalf, "Athame bless you, Justicar, and your…acolyte."
"Athame bless your azure," Myke muttered when the trio were barely out of ear shot. She turned to look at Samara with a chastened expression. "Okay, I know that look and I'm really sorry. You're not actually going to punish me are you? Errr, what is the punishment exactly?"
"The Code contains no punishment for either loitering or an unpatriotic attitude. Both subjects are…trifling. Disobeying your teacher however carries a severe penalty."
"Hey, you told me to wait for you and I waited!" Myke protested. "It's not my fault that some trumped up maiden and her goons came along."
"I also told you not to draw undue attention to yourself."
"There was no drawing!" Myke made an emphatic motion with her hand. "None whatsoever. I sat here, and I waited. I was bored shitless, but that doesn't mean I was drawing attention."
"Boredom is the product-" Samara began.
"Of a small mind. Yeah, yeah, I've heard that one," Myke interrupted. Having made her case for not being punished, she began to feel slightly blasé about the whole affair. "That was nicely done by the way. I thought those fathead's were about to piss their pants."
"I can assure you that such a triviality was far from my objective. It was imperative that I diffuse the situation and dissuade them from bringing you into contact with any higher authorities that might ask questions. Such a development would place our employer in jeopardy. Something you seem to excel at."
"Well, that's why you're here," Myke said sheepishly, very much aware of the potential ramifications of what she had just done. She was eager to steer the conversation away from her latest transgression. "Are you not going to admit how seriously scared they were? How do you even do that?"
For just a moment, Myke thought she saw an actual expression on Samara's face. Sadness. Then, just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone and Myke was left wondering whether she had imagined it.
"I am both an object of fascination, and of fear," Samara replied, as though that was all the explanation Myke would need.
Samara's words had explained everything…and nothing. Nevertheless, the words struck a chord. Myke had never considered how lonely it was to be a justicar – probably because she had thought the pleasure of her company was ample. Or her head was so stuffed full of the romanticism portrayed in vids.
"We should go grab a drink," Myke announced. Well, Samara could drink tea and she would have a drink. The strongest one she could find. "There must be somewhere around here that serves alcohol."
"I do not think so." Samara regarded her calmly, apparently not appreciating the gesture. "We will sit here and meditate in silence while we wait for our friends to return. You will meditate on your temper…and your belligerent, unpatriotic attitude."
In a display of discomfort rather than nerves, Shepard kept plucking at the tight collar of her suit. She tried to swing her arms to test her range of movement and was displeased at finding the suit unnecessarily stiff. It was an uncomfortable reminder of wearing navy dress blues.
The outfit wasn't her choice. She'd wanted to wear cargos and a leather jacket in a puerile demonstration of how little respect she had for Councillor Tevos or her position. Liara had different plans, cajoling her into an outfit that exuded expense. It was all understated of course – expensive fabric and tailoring rather than unnecessary frills and excessive decoration. The dark fabric seemed to swallow light, but it was accented by white, pearly fabric at her cuffs and collar. Everything was carefully designed to fit a specific persona.
The fallen hero returned to life. Or a figurehead – to be strutted out at the appropriate moment.
Shepard cast a sideways glance, Liara's outfit had been designed to match. A dress made entirely of the pearly material, clinging to every curve and contrasting starkly with her skin. However, while Shepard felt as though she looked like a turkey, Liara looked majestic.
Their clothing was at odds with their surroundings. From what Shepard could see, the council chambers lacked the traditional elegance of asari architecture. The corridor through which they walked was purely functional. It could have been any diplomat's office, anywhere in council space. It seemed at odds with the significance of their visit. Tevos would be the first leader to find out Shepard was alive. The first step in a potential chain of events that could change the course of Galactic events. Shepard had been trying not to look at the meeting in that light, but Liara was there to keep reminding her at every step.
"Stop doing that," Liara chided her quietly, almost under her breath. "If you look remotely uncomfortable, Tevos will see it immediately. And she will not attribute it to your garments."
"I know, I know." Shepard sighed "Walk in there like 'The Shepard', as opposed to just plain old Shepard. I hate to remind you now, Liara, but there's a flaw in your plan. Tevos knew the old Shepard. The old bat didn't like me then and the feeling was definitely mutual."
Liara huffed impatiently. "I am not going to humour you by asking what an 'old bat' is. I will simply remind you of the significance of this meeting."
Shepard gently took Liara by her wrist, stopping them both. She reached up to cup Liara's cheek. Liara's skin was unusually warm to the touch. For the first time, Shepard realized that Liara was seeking to allay her own nerves.
"These will be the smoothest diplomatic negotiations I've ever participated in. I promise."
Liara appeared to relax, even smiling slightly. "I will believe that when I see it."
Shepard grinned. "To tell the truth, despite this getup you've made me wear, I'm actually looking forward to this. Just anticipating the look on Tevos' face is making this whole thing worthwhile."
"I should hope that making the first step towards an alliance which could prevent a Galactic War would make it all worthwhile," Liara said pointedly, mirth gone.
To say that there were no nerves as she and Liara were ushered into Tevos' chamber was an understatement. However, there was also a sense of triumph. After almost two years of hiding, with the Galaxy believing her to be dead, she was finally making the first step towards living a normal life. Or at least as normal a life as possible. While Shepard didn't have any desire for achieving more notoriety than she already had, she was tired of hiding. Not to mention outraged at the potentially irreparable damage done to humanity's reputation within galactic politics. For all her lack of diplomatic nous, she'd bled to get humanity a seat on the Council. If this meeting was a tiny step towards repairing that, then she would put aside her hatred of politicians – and Tevos in particular.
"Liara T'Soni." The half-greeting left Tevos' lips before she even turned to see them.
The asari Councillor hadn't changed an iota. As regal as ever. Still standing stiffly, as though she had the mother of all sticks up her ass. A haughty expression was fixed on her face as she acknowledged Liara with something that resembled a smile. She barely flicked a cursory glance over Shepard, dismissing her as someone of no importance.
"I expect you to have an exceptionally good excuse as to why it has taken you this long to pay me a visit? I received word of your family estate being reoccupied almost a year ago." Tevos' tone carried a distinct hint of reproach. "And when you do arrive, it is with the utmost secrecy via a door used only by my acolytes."
Liara stepped forward but she made no move towards a more intimate greeting.
"Had the secrecy not been essential, I hardly think I would have been welcome through the front entrance," Liara replied frostily.
Shepard lifted an arched eyebrow in her bondmate's direction. Clearly the warning to behave should have gone both ways.
Surprisingly, Tevos' expression softened in response. "Liara, the crimes of a mother should never linger over her daughter's life. Please believe me when I say that your name is held in esteem in the highest circles. Many asari know of your exploits during the War. Many children claim you as their hero."
Shepard couldn't stop a grin from spreading across her face, it broadened as she realised that Liara had turned a violent shade of purple.
"Definitely a more attractive hero than The Shepard," she quipped.
That was enough to draw the ire of both asari – for two entirely different reasons. Had Liara been able to elbow her in the ribs, Shepard suspected that it would have been swift and sharp. Tevos regarded her suspiciously, as the unknown quantity that she was. For someone so used to hiding in the shadows for months, the scrutiny was unnerving.
"We have not been introduced," Tevos intoned affectedly.
And here it comes. "Actually we have. The first time on the Citadel in 2183 - you refused to believe my testimony of Saren's treachery. Fast-forward to 2186 and I told you to kiss my arse when you offered to reinstate my Spectre status." Shepard almost winced as she realised how juvenile it all sounded. "I'm sorry about that by the way. In hindsight, it wasn't my finest moment."
Shepard met Tevos' stare directly and calmly as realisation slowly dawned. The resulting expression on the Councillor's face was everything Shepard had hoped for and more. The elegant, refined asari's eyes goggled like a small child faced with a wondrous sight. For several seconds, Tevos' mouth gaped open before she snapped it shut again and tried to restore some form of composure. It wasn't much, but it spoke volumes.
"Commander Shepard?" Tevos asked in disbelief.
Shepard was taken aback by the mention of her old rank. No one had referred to her as such for a long time. "It's just Shepard these days, but yes."
Tevos continued to stare for almost a full minute – although it felt like longer as Shepard grew uncomfortable.
"Well…this is unexpected. I…trust, with your involvement, Liara, that this is not some form of deception?" Tevos eventually replied. Although she addressed Liara, she kept her gaze fixed squarely on Shepard.
"I can assure you that it is not," Liara replied smoothly. As if on cue, she handed Tevos something. "I know Shepard's biometrics were recorded when she became a Spectre. I think you'll find that more than proof enough."
Tevos took the small vial of blood and regarded it studiously for a long moment, before slipping it into a hidden pocket in her dress. "Indeed."
"If I were in your shoes, that would have been my first conclusion," Shepard added. She extended her hand gracefully towards the Councillor. "Especially given that I am standing here, offering my hand as opposed to another angry tirade. I was an arse, Councillor, and at a time when we needed to work together more than ever. It was unforgivable. I hope that we can put that behind us in this new life…well, a new life for one of us at least."
Tevos took the proffered hand. While Shepard didn't want to read too much into it, she supposed that the handshake was warm enough in the circumstances – even if Tevos did not return her smile.
There was a moment of awkward silence, before the asari Councillor gracefully ushered them towards a small seating area. Shepard and Liara gravitated towards one small sofa, sitting so that their knees were touching. Just barely, enough for Shepard to sense that Liara was proud of her for reining in her temper.
"Can I…offer you a drink?"
From the manner in which she asked, Tevos clearly wasn't used to serving the drinks. Shepard had barely opened her mouth to accept the offer when she felt a sharp jab in her ribs. She cast a quick glance to one side, to find Liara discreetly shaking her head.
"We're fine, thanks, but please don't let us hold you back."
Being held back was obviously the last thing on Tevos' mind. No sooner had she poured one glass of rich Thessian red, she downed it in a swift gulp. She also took a deep sip of the second glass before joining them.
Tevos' obvious nerves set the tone as all three of them were on edge. Shepard felt an uncomfortable weight settled on her shoulders. It had always been evident that navigating such engagements weren't part of her skillset. Her mind wandered to the depressing thought that this needed to change. It was likely that diplomacy was where her future lay, not in the heat of combat.
Although surely not being shot at was a bonus, Shepard knew that politicians could fire their own kind of ammunition.
"I have a great many questions."
Tevos' sudden statement interrupted her thoughts. The asari Councillor was still staring at Shepard, obviously struggling to process what she was seeing. "There is much to discuss. Perhaps too much…but we do not have the time for any reticence."
"Not if we're to avoid another war," Shepard replied.
Just the mention of the word 'war' was enough to cause Tevos to reach for her glass again. "It appears that the only species with any lingering appetite for war are humans and what is left of the batarians. Even the Krogan have set aside their violent ways in the wake of the genophage being cured."
"Humanity itself desires peace," Liara replied smoothly. "The warmongering can be laid squarely at the feet of the military dictatorship that has installed itself in power. They are responsible for inciting the populace to a misguided state of fear. And we all know just how dangerous people can be when they are afraid. There is still time to act, to keep any violence to a minimum, through subversion."
"And you seek our support in these efforts?"
"Morally, politically, yes," Liara continued. "But beyond that we already putting in place the mechanisms to take the current government down."
Tevos' interest was clearly piqued, but her lips curved into a wry smile. "We? Does your allegiance now lie with humanity, Liara?"
"My allegiance is to Shepard," Liara replied, the frosty tone creeping back into her voice. "And our only goal is peace."
"That much I do not doubt," Tevos said as she turned once again to stare at Shepard. "But what is to be your role in all of this?"
"I'm prepared to do whatever is needed. Be whatever is needed."
"The Shepard?" Tevos asked casually. "Their god?"
"What? No!" Shepard shook her head. "Why would I want that?"
"It's not a question of what you want, Shepard," Tevos pointed out with no malice in her tone. "You defeated Saren. You returned from the dead to begin the galaxy's fight against the Reapers. You then sacrificed yourself to defeat them once and for all…and returned from the dead a second time."
"I wasn't dead that time," Shepard protested ineffectually. "I was…in stasis."
"Regardless, there is the very real likelihood that you could be perceived as a god all the same. Or at least an approximation of one – especially if you take on a figurehead role within this endeavour."
"If I can unify humanity against those in power, then so be it, but I do not want to replace their despotic leadership with my own. We'd all end up in the proverbial shit pretty damn fast."
"Proverbial shit?" Tevos repeated. "Indeed."
"What Shepard is trying to say – badly -" Liara injected swiftly "-is that we are seeking to reinstate democratic leadership and restore humanity's place in the galactic order."
"And you assume that the other races will be willing to overlook this period of deliberate warmongering and simply welcome humanity back into the fold. Without consequences?"
Liara inclined her head. "That is up to you and the rest of the Council."
"You'll have to understand, I can guarantee nothing at this stage," Tevos replied. "Although I cannot stress how favourable it would be if we were to avoid any conflict."
"Then our thinking is aligned," Liara said with a nod. "We are considering timings for Shepard to reveal herself, but beyond that you'll understand that we must act with secrecy. The lives of our friends operating a resistance movement on Earth depend on it. Shepard is however willing to meet with the rest of the Council soon."
"I am?" That was news to Shepard. At Liara's pointed glare, she quickly nodded. "Of course I am."
This is just the start, Shepard warned herself. They're going to make you into a politician, whether you like it or not. She was going to have to get used to wearing this damn suit – even if she was much more at home in ceramic plating. Although with the manner in which Tevos kept staring at her, Shepard wished she had a few ceramic plates under her shirt.
"I have to say, I am impressed and grateful that you have placed your trust in me. I suspect your journey to this point has been difficult for both of you."
"Understatement of the century," Shepard agreed, even if everything that had happened to her in Alberta now seemed like a nightmare. "But I've had enough of secrecy and lies."
"In a similar vein…now that the opportunity presents itself, there is another, important matter of which I must speak," Tevos intoned gravely. "I have a question to ask of you both. A question to which I suspect I will not receive the truth in response."
"Councillor Tevos," Liara interjected smoothly, clearly unnerved by the possibility of leaving Shepard to respond. "If it is within our capacity to answer, then we shall."
Although Liara did not risk a glance in her direction, Shepard recognised her bondmate's guarded tone. And the note of caution it carried.
"There are rumours that a well-known Alliance vessel has been conducting a covert vendetta throughout the Terminus Systems," Tevos began. "Short, brutal raids on pirate outposts where no survivor is left behind – or at least none that are willing to speak of what they have seen."
"There is no need to be deliberately cryptic with us," Liara replied quickly. "You speak of the Normandy. It is no longer an Alliance vessel."
If Tevos was surprised by Liara's honesty, she revealed nothing. "It is not that I dispute the nature of their actions. If it is the Normandy, then they have saved the lives, or at least the freedom, of countless colonists. We are grateful for their efforts in these dark times. My motives are more personal. I have reason to believe that my goddaughter is on that ship."
"Could you be a little more specific, Councillor? Do you not have several goddaughters?"
"Stop playing the part of the demure maiden, Liara T'Soni," Tevos admonished sternly. "It doesn't become you. My favourite goddaughter, Tasha Kurin. The daughter of Matriarch Lidanya Kurin. She was given command of company of commandos that was despatched to aid a SpecTRe mission led by Captain Williams. When her ship, the Pserimos, returned to Thessia, Tasha was not on board. Nothing has been heard from her or Spectre Williams for months."
"Ashley was killed trying to rescue colonists on Chasca almost a year ago," Shepard answered before Liara could say anything.
Tevos failed to hide her honest shock – lips parting in disbelief. "Despite the fractured relationship with the Alliance, we surely would have heard such news?"
"The Alliance has covered up her death," Liara replied succinctly. "Their motives behind this decision are unclear. We…Shepard and I, suspect that they were averse to losing another of their heroes-"
"Not that Ash ever claimed to be such." Shepard wanted to say it, even though it wasn't necessary.
"- so soon after the War," Liara continued. "But given that it is the Alliance, we have not ruled out more sinister motives. I have devoted a considerable amount of time and resource to uncovering further information through my old networks. Unfortunately without success."
"Then please accept my condolences for your loss. Despite the fact that Spectre…Ashley did not always believe in her own abilities, I did." Tevos paused, clearly reluctant to ask her next question. "Does this mean that Tasha is also…dead?"
There was an obvious pause, as Shepard waited for Liara to respond. Given the awkward question, she couldn't trust herself to respond diplomatically. Kurin was effectively AWOL. Although she had no idea of the internal structures of the asari military, if it was anything like the SA then Kurin was in significant trouble.
"As far as I am aware, your goddaughter is unharmed. Her whereabouts or her motives however, of that I am unsure," Liara replied.
They weren't lies exactly. Neither of them knew exactly where the Normandy was. And while Shepard had never doubted Kurin's loyalty, she could not fathom the commando's motives for remaining on board. She suspected that Kurin felt compelled to continue Ashley's work, but it could just as easily be a desire to remain close to what remained of the human woman she had loved. Shepard wasn't willing to divulge any such speculations, not even to Liara.
"If I am able," Liara continued. "I will let her know that her family are…concerned about her."
Tevos' earlier apprehension had disappeared. "Concerned? If what you say is true, then my concern is swiftly giving way to fury. The nerve of that child, turning her back on her family and her duty! When her mother finds out...hmmm, perhaps I will hold off informing Lidanya for the time being. The least I can do is give Tasha the opportunity to come home and explain herself. Thank you for allaying my fears."
For all Shepard's earlier apprehension, the meeting both proceeded and ended on a positive note. They left the way they entered, via the back door, but Shepard felt more visible – more alive. She'd previously loathed Tevos, but now realised that beneath the politician's frosty exterior, lay understanding and even compassion. And the mechanisms that Liara had started turning, were speeding up. She reached for Liara's hand – and found it warm to the touch when their fingers entwined, a sure sign that Liara had been nervous throughout the meeting. Liara gave her a fleeting smile, one of definite relief.
"You have the makings of an outstanding politician, my love."
"Don't get ahead of yourself, Li, the meeting went better than expected but there is a lot of work to be done. Although I wouldn't want to be Kurin right now. Way to throw her under the bus," Shepard said pointedly.
Liara frowned in response. "What is a bus - actually, no not answer that. I do not need to know. If you are implying that I have somehow betrayed her, then that is unfair. She is part of one of Armali's – even Thessia's - most powerful families, they will not simply allow her to disappear."
Shepard was quite content to allow Liara to believe that a 'bus' was somehow an offensive term. "I'll get in touch with Miranda as soon as possible, we're overdue a conversation."
"You just want to find out how their latest raid went," Liara said as she squeezed Shepard's hand.
"Guilty." Shepard grinned. She drew Liara closer and wrapped an arm around the small of her back. "Let's go find Samara and Myke so we can get home. I want to enjoy my anonymity – and my peace and quiet - while it lasts."
Blackheath, Australia
Although a layer of glass was between them, Oriana Lawson could very clear hear her creation's fists slamming into the practice dummy. Sharp, brutal strikes that would have set the dummy flying across the room if it hadn't been anchored to the floor. Hard enough to rupture the internal organs of an unarmoured opponent. Even though she'd lost track of the number of times she had watched Williams in action, it was still mesmerising.
The first exploratory tests already seemed an eternity ago. Williams hadn't even been a soldier then, just Subject 57. Barely off the operating table, still lacking the necessary physical conditioning. The subject's movements against easy opponents – ones instructed not to damage her - had been clumsy and ineffective. However, underlying everything, Williams had an innate desire to be better. To be both stronger and faster. Not to simply regain what had been lost, but to be more. As the days and weeks passed, the soldier's strength and reflexes had returned at an exponential rate. Even as Williams' opponents received new orders not to hold anything back, they couldn't get close enough to touch her.
Now, Williams was a marvel. Undeniably stronger and faster in every way. And Oriana was justified in taking sole credit.
"All the money the Alliance has spent on Blackheath, and that's all you've got to show for it? One resurrected marine."
Oriana had been so caught up in her own success, that she had missed the approaching footsteps. She didn't need to look around to know that it was Cristiane Alves. There had never been any love lost between her and Alves. She didn't hate the other woman, they were simply from different worlds.
"One resurrected hero," Oriana replied patiently. "Minus all of the irritating baggage."
"Freewill? A conscience?"
Oriana scowled, her patience already eroded by having to deal with such puerile doubts. "She has both, and more. They've simply been moulded to what we would expect…to what is needed in times like these."
"Point proven," Alves murmured, just loudly enough for Oriana to hear.
Oriana didn't bother to argue. She'd long since realised that arguing with Alves was a pointless exercise. The marine had high opinions of herself and her role in political machinations. Oriana had always seen Alves for what she was – a violent, surly grunt. Nothing more.
"What's she like against real opposition?"
"Brutal and efficient," Oriana replied quickly.
Alves snorted. "I meant real opposition. Not those second rate FNGs you insist on throwing in there. I'll go a couple of rounds with her, give her a real test for once."
She turned to stare at Alves. There was an anticipatory grin on the woman's face. "Oh, you're serious?"
"Why wouldn't I be?"
Oriana shook her head. "Williams would kill you."
"You haven't-"
"I don't need to have seen you in action, Alves," she interrupted. "You may think you're a hardarse, or whatever you marines like to call yourselves, but Williams is in another league altogether. You'd end up dead, or seriously injured. End of discussion."
"It's a risk I'm prepared to take." Alves shrugged. The smirk broadened. "Who knows, Williams might decide she wants to wrestle in an entirely different way."
Oriana's resulting glare was glacial. "That is not happening."
"Why not? I met Williams before her untimely death, there was definitely a moment." Alves narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "Don't tell me you did something to make her straight?"
Oriana wasn't going to be drawn into Alves' line of questioning. "Williams will procreate when she's told to. In the meantime, she has more important priorities than forming romantic attachments."
"Procreate when she's told to?" Alves shook her head in disbelief. "You are one sick fuck, Lawson. I mean, I always knew you were but this is another level altogether."
"Was there an actual purpose for this conversation, or are we done here?" Oriana snapped.
Alves shrugged again, clearly pleased to have earned a rise. Oriana was annoyed that she'd risen to take the bait. However, she was grateful that Alves didn't press the point further. She wasn't willing to discuss the more delicate aspects of her work with such a cretin. This whole exchange had suggested to her that she did hate Alves. The sooner they were out of each other's presence, the better.
Oblivious to – or perhaps revelling in – Oriana's foul mood, Alves remained standing at her side. She was seemingly quite content to observe Williams' sparring session – or perhaps ogle what she couldn't have. Oriana wondered what more she could do to hint that she wanted to be left alone.
A few moments later, the sound of approaching footsteps solved the problem for her. Alves had obviously turned to see who it was and responded with a few expletives under her breath. With her patience for unscheduled interruptions wearing thin, Oriana prepared herself to tell whoever it was that she was not to be disturbed. She turned to find Fleet Admiral Kessler himself, beaming almost eagerly as he approached.
"I guess that's my cue to leave," Alves said, loudly enough for her voice to carry.
Oriana had already turned her back to Kessler, but she heard the brief exchange between the Admiral and the Captain. It was stunted and formal – accompanied by a clear trace of petulance in Alves' voice. Although Oriana had no official knowledge, it was impossible to miss the close familial resemblance between the two. She'd long since put the pieces together. Clearly there was no love lost between father and daughter.
Kessler stopped beside her at the viewing window. The Admiral had ended up standing uncomfortably close. She immediately resented his presence – his pompous, quasi-masculine bulk taking up an inordinate amount of room. It also served to remind her how indebted she was to his vision. Following her father's downfall, Kessler had been instrumental in ensuring funding for her work. It didn't make her like or respect the man - or his obsolete misogyny.
"How is our star pupil today?"
Star Pupil? He spoke as though her marvellous creation was merely a child. She ignored the question. "Surely Captain Alves' talents are being wasted here with us? Wouldn't she be suited to a more active posting?"
"You might as well just come out and say you want her gone, Dr Lawson," Kessler replied.
She discreetly shifted further away as she turned to face him. "Fine. Captain Alves is bored and therefore becoming problematic. I have more than enough to do dealing with the bored, impatient marine who is actually in my care."
Kessler grunted in annoyance, clearly unused to being ordered around by a civilian – and a woman at that. "Alves will be leaving Blackheath in due course, I trust the two of you can co-exist without any problems for a few more weeks."
Oriana felt like rolling her eyes, but such a reaction had long since been schooled out of her. She simply nodded, her expression a mask that betrayed nothing. She had a great deal of experience with men like Kessler. After all, she'd been raised by one. It was a simply a matter of ensuring that they believed they were in charge of the situation. As a problem, Alves was next to insignificant. Her prime concern, as always, was Williams.
"You mentioned that Williams is impatient?" Kessler said eventually. "Is she ready to return to active duty?"
"She's exceeded expectations with every test – her strength and stamina exceed our best predictions by almost fifteen per cent. The soldier she was before would not be able to touch her now. No one can."
"What about her psych evaluations?" Kessler probed. "The goal posts have moved beyond simply creating super soldiers…mindless grunts. We need someone who can function at high levels. A leader."
"We've run almost a hundred hours of simulations and a dozen live fire exercises. Captain Williams has passed each one with flying colours. She's demonstrated composure and adaptability under pressure. She's creative. That's before getting started on what she herself can do in combat. I've documented everything in my reports." Which you clearly haven't read. "Do you need me to continue?"
"Then she's ready," Kessler replied succinctly.
"Well…I mean, there are a few more tests I have to run-"
As Oriana spoke she realised that her reluctance didn't lie in the fact that Williams wasn't ready. She didn't want to lose control over her creation. As long as she was at Blackheath, Williams was her responsibility. She made the decisions on everything from who Williams interacted with, to the food she ate. Once the testing was over, their relationship would change. That was before getting started on the fact that her work would be on display for all of humanity. If anything went wrong, if Williams failed…then she too would fail. And Oriana hated failure. She hoped that Kessler didn't pick up on her unease.
"You have one month, Dr Lawson," Kessler instructed. He wasn't even looking in her direction. "Then I want the two of you in Vancouver. Captain Williams will get her wish to see her sisters, and you'll ensure that they don't cause any trouble."
First real test, Oriana thought, unnerved by the variables she couldn't control. "And if they do?"
Kessler made an expansive gesture with his hands. "You've got this facility, doctor. Use it."
"They're civilians," she protested.
"The treatment worked with the Park woman, she was close enough to a civilian. There's no reason it won't work on…" he waved his hand dismissively. "Whatever their names are."
"Abby and Lynn Williams," Oriana supplied quietly.
Kessler ignored her. "One month, Oriana. There are larger plans in motion, and we need the particular asset in play. Do I have your assurance that Williams will be ready?"
Oriana turned her head, he was finally looking her in the eye – or at least he was staring at her. She gave him a curt nod in response. Endeavouring, as always, to keep herself aloof in his presence. It was necessary to dissuade even the smallest notion that she might be interested in fucking him. It wasn't an act, but she'd learned a long time ago that disinterest alone wasn't enough for men like Kessler.
"Marvellous."
His hand went to her shoulder, lingering with a gentle squeeze. Her skin crawled. Only when he turned and walked away did she physically shiver. Oriana closed her eyes for a moment, wondering how long it would be before all of this would be over. The Alliance would have secured their place as the dominant force in the Galaxy, with humanity's safety assured. The other races would take their places as obedient vassals.
And she could finally say goodbye to bureaucratic bullshit. She'd have the resources to build the facility of her dreams, and absolutely no oversight, no one to answer to. Hopefully, her demons wouldn't be able to follow her.
Oriana opened her eyes. She was grateful to have her solitude back. It was just her and her creation, still separated by the glass between them. Throughout everything, her conversations with Alves and Kessler, Williams hadn't paused for a moment. Even though it was a two-way surface, the soldier had remained oblivious to everything that was on the other side of the glass. Her sole focus was pushing her body, striving for the perfect combination of movement. Her efforts had left her covered in rich sheen of sweat that had soaked through much of the tank top she wore and plastered her hair to her head. Sweat dripped from the smooth planes of her face.
Two sharp raps on the glass were all it took to halt Williams' movement and draw her attention to the glass. Oriana made a ceasing movement with her hand and Williams nodded, obediently padding towards the window. Although sexuality was irrelevant – Oriana saw Williams as her creation – she could appreciate what her sister had fallen for.
Oriana pressed the intercom. "Hit the showers, Captain Williams. We will resume with some psych tests after lunch."
There was a brief flicker of displeasure on Williams' face. The repetitive tests bored her. The expression was gone, and she nodded in acquiescence. "Understood, Dr Lawson. Why was Admiral Kessler here? Did he have my mobilisation orders?"
She should have known that Williams was only feigning inattention. No doubt she'd be acutely aware of the whole interaction.
"I told him you were ready, but the Admiral requested that you undergo another month of testing." Williams' expression showed only disappointment as Oriana continued, "I promise you that the wait is almost over. Now shower, lunch and report to my office at one thirty."
"Yes, Dr Lawson."
Oriana watched Williams exit the room. She had always known that the time would come when she had to release her creation into the world. While fears of failure hung over her head, she could feel the first stirrings of anticipation. Williams was one person, but she had the capability to create huge shockwaves across the Galaxy.
She's not yours any longer, Miranda, Oriana inwardly addressed the sister she had never met. A smirk crept onto her face. She desperately wanted a front row seat for the inevitable reveal – and the cruel end to any potential hope that Miranda might feel. She's mine.