Requiem of the Goddess

by Yoshiyuki Ly

Goddess of mind, goddess of heart - closed-off without consent, She cannot flourish; unlocked to the universe in trust and control, She protects from all outside influences. Only one sits atop the throne of Shepard's subjectivity. Ashley/FemShep, Liara/FemShep. Miranda/FemShep, Aria/FemShep. Power plays, intense loves. Renegon Infiltrator FemShep. Spans the Mass Effect Trilogy.

24. Sol Redux

"Recollection" from Final Fantasy XI / "Freedom's Progress" from Mass Effect 2

XXIV. Sol Redux

(Shepard)

Complete darkness, all-encompassing.

Ink black of a starless sky, all around me, everywhere.

Everything I stood on had darkened to this nothingness, filled with so much spirit.

Able to breathe again, able to perceive again, I looked down at myself. Somehow able to see my own form without actual light around me, I flexed and relaxed my gloved hands, finding that they obeyed me. No longer frozen in that coma I was vaguely aware of, I could finally move as normal again. Black of my stealth suit and my combat boots; the red and white of my N7 logo over my chest: I remembered myself, remembering my paths. I remembered who I was and how I got here, all from this silent safety on me.

Just to make sure, I reached up to my face. Actual skin again. Actual movement over my eyes when I blinked. Slicked back and strict as I wanted, someone had tied my hair into this tail, gathered right at the center-back of my head, symmetrical and stern. Healthy in this sheen of mine, that someone had gone out of their way to take care of my hair, my skin—everything. Brand new.

Somewhere, far away, I felt the familiar emotions of the ones who'd lost me.

Somewhere closer, I felt the unfamiliar feelings from the one who'd never had me at all, but who'd poured everything they had into bringing me back.

Somewhere in between nothing and everything, I stayed here for a little bit longer, waiting.

Through this darkness, I saw a light forming in front of me. From something. Someone.

Someone I recognized:

Tall form of a woman's power, with her all-black outfit sharpened in elegance. Blue of her skin visible from her arms, making her identity obvious enough from this view. She wouldn't show me her face.

Matriarch Benezia had her back to me.

Stiffened in disapproval, Liara's mother scorned me for my choices.

I remembered Benezia's riddling. I remembered her games, her lies. I remembered Saren's influence over her: how he'd wanted her to fool me, to fool us all. As her mother, of course Benezia had wanted me to pick Liara as my one and only. As her mother, of course Benezia had wanted me to stay true to her daughter, not knowing or not caring about what I needed. And as her mother, of course Benezia had wanted someone like me to be with her daughter forever: giving Liara the glory that I had already saved for another.

But it was too late for any of that now.

Benezia stepped forward, into the background, remaining there as a fixture. Diluted, distant.

As she dimmed, someone else stepped toward me from that same background, into the fore, closer.

Someone I had only seen in pictures from time to time.

The same height as me, this man beamed in the light with such kindness. Blue of his Alliance uniform pressed and ironed with care, insignias and piping marking him as Serviceman Third Class, and the brighter blue of his eyes: I recognized him. He stopped a few paces before me. Taking in my recognition, my recollection, he gave me a big smile, glad that I knew who he was. The shape of his warmth, his optimism reached far into me, pulling out my memories from his daughter, from the resemblance between them in spirit and in strength.

In that likeness, I felt another type of warmth over my eyes, stinging.

Stinging in so much love and pain over everything that had happened. Not necessarily from what had been out of my control. I had chosen to save Ashley over myself. I had died for her, and I would have done it again without question, without hesitation. But really, what made me tear up this much, tearing at my chest in emotion…was that she hadn't trusted me. Ashley didn't trust me with the truth. She hadn't told me those truths I'd had to find out on my own, becoming as a demon to see all, and to help her in the way I had done. Because I remembered helping her. I remembered my hellish, demonic anger in Liara's hotel room. As some force acting beyond my own control, I remembered paralyzing Liara in fear so that Ashley could take her shot and survive.

Not by my own will.

Raw emotion. No real decision-making. No choice and not on purpose. Just pure instinct.

Even still, after everything I had done for Ashley, and in the face of all that I would do for her in the future…

The way I loved her felt insignificant next to this.

Almost meaningless, since she would never fully trust me on her own.

Her father sensed enough of my thoughts, my feelings. Smiling more in that resemblance, he gave me a proud salute, with his eyes betraying something else. Something more painful. Wordless, he entrusted me with this single, important duty. Sentimental in his meaning, I felt the absolute blessing there in his gesture, but not for the obvious. The pain in his eyes he conveyed, I sensed his worries. His concerns over his daughter, over how much pain she was in. Something far beyond what I could know in this moment.

Ashley's father wanted me to take care of this. To protect her in any way I could.

To take care of her—in whatever way she needed. Even if that meaning was obscured to me now.

Accepting his meaning, accepting this renewed responsibility, I returned his salute, sharp with practice.

He then nodded, and took a few steps back. Waiting there, respectful.

One last person who had been waiting within this darkness, this spirit: their figure approached me. Hooded, masked. Someone wearing a suit. An enviro-suit, styled like a quarian's. Sheer kindness radiated from this person, from her face beneath the mask of her helmet. Violet in color reached my perception as she walked nearer, finding me here. Only wearing this suit for my own understanding, as a shortcut; not what she actually would have had on in death.

Taller than any quarian woman I knew, I wasn't familiar with whoever this was. Not directly.

I couldn't know how, but she felt like someone's mother.

And once she held both of my hands in hers, I suddenly knew.

More of that kindness shined from behind her mask. Such familiar kindness. The same as Tali's. The one that she had inherited from her mother, standing here with me now. Her mother, holding my hands like this, tighter, three of her fingers on both hands over mine. Unable to speak a word directly to me, she seemed to make a request anyway. Asking me to take care of her daughter, too. Not just trusting me with the task. Actively needing me to do this. Pleading without words for me to protect her.

Tali's mother even looked over her shoulder—at Ashley's father—and then back to me.

Holding my hands tighter, tighter still: she beseeched me to keep her daughter safe, no matter what.

Seeing my own stern surprise reflected over her helmet, I looked past that, through to her. Those brights of her eyes. Her kindness reaching past my exterior.

I gripped her hands, acknowledging all. Not fully understanding all of this, I nodded anyway. Giving her my promise.

Tali's mother smiled at me anyway. Knowing that I didn't fully get this, she accepted my honor. She stayed here with me as I remembered her daughter, and Ashley—and these unknown emotions surrounding me, all from another person I couldn't see. That someone who'd brought me back like this. That someone who'd given me far more than life itself. More than I could see right now, brimming beneath the surface of my perception. Such a powerful connection between us had shaped and formed throughout all this time, shaping such a strength in me, formative. One that helped me awaken at last.

Remembering this connection, and remembering everyone else, too—my team as the light of my life—their light flooded all, returning me:

---

Blurred sight, in and out of focus.

Staring upward somewhere. Silver of a ceiling. Lying down on my back on some kind of bed. Medical equipment everywhere.

Bright lights, my eyes adjusted.

Some familiarity: I felt the fabric of my stealth suit over me, keeping me warm in this sterile place.

More familiarity from my recent memories: I saw someone walk closer, gazing down at me in a gentleness and genuine care…and with true love. At first sight, I breathed harder, faster; my heart swollen and palpitating from her sincerity, her beauty. Finding this peace and stability she gave me. All as a collection that I'd never known in my earliest years. Never had the chance to know, or to grow attached to. Stronger attachments from finally seeing her face, the contradiction of her eyes, of that steel blue heating, warming for me and only me. Dark of her hair and fair of her skin, I recognized so many possibilities there in her, but I didn't reach out.

She had her hand over mine closest to hers, keeping me in place as gently as she regarded me.

Vague distance of her accented voice: "Take it easy for now, Commander. You're going to be just fine."

Vagueness, so vague.

I drifted off again with the comfort of her promise, patient and pure.

However much time passed between then and now, I returned to some other place in sleep.

Waking without opening my eyes, I felt a fuller awakening this time, so fulfilling. Filling my mind with clarity, that woman's voice sounded closer, much closer. Clearer. More direct:

"Commander, can you hear me? Try to use your voice to speak. You don't need to open your eyes yet."

I responded, "I can hear you."

"Perfect. For now, we're going to test your memory recall, your recollection. I'll ask you a few questions. I'd like you to answer as best as you can. All right?"

"Understood."

"I'll need you to confirm your background, your psychological profile, and your combat specialization."

"Earthborn," I said. "Ruthless. Infiltrator: tactical cloak, sniper rifle and pistol proficiencies, Icarus Landing System, emergency temperature management, starvation and exhaustion suspensions."

"Very good. Your rank in the Alliance is no longer the same. You were posthumously promoted from Lieutenant-Commander to Commander. Do you feel that this is logical—that it makes sense for you?"

"It does make sense. Being a commander is part of my identity."

"Indeed it is. Next, can you confirm the full name of your partner and love interest?"

"Ashley Madeline Williams. Lieutenant Williams."

"Excellent. On to your service history. Do you remember what happened on Feros, including with the colonists there on Zhu's Hope?"

"My team killed all of the colonists. I took down the Thorian on my own. I spared Shiala after talking with her."

"And what about on Noveria? Do you recall anything with Matriarch Benezia, how you defeated her?"

"I told Tali to move the tank that was in my way, freeing the rachni queen inside. I assassinated Benezia with my sniper rifle."

"Did anyone survive on Virmire who could have died during the mission?"

Ashley…

"Wrex," I answered instead. "He survived my encounter with him. And I survived, too."

"Finally, during the Battle at the Citadel, what became of the Council? What happened after that?"

"I ordered Ashley as my second-in-command to save Anderson and the Council on the Destiny Ascension. She and the team got it done. I took down Sovereign's shields, and then the Council fleets finished it off. I chose Anderson over Udina as the first human councilor. He awarded me with a Medal of Honor that I never told anyone about, on purpose. And then I made sure that Ashley got her promotion to Second Lieutenant, a Gold Star Commendation, and an N7 recommendation, as she deserved."

"Your memory appears to be quite excellent, Commander. Go ahead and open your eyes now."

Bright lights again, with my eyes adjusting to them sooner this time.

Silver of the ceiling, of the walls, of the medical equipment nearby and off to the side.

Such a clean, scentless smell everywhere, as if any actual scent would've been frowned upon.

Lying down over this bed, I still felt protected by my stealth suit. Shifting my head to look around, I didn't feel the tied knot of my hair behind me. I instead saw the shimmer of my hair spilled down under me, fanning out there, still healthy and well taken care of by someone else, by someone who knew my routine down to the letter. No split ends, either. No lifeless strands. No signs of loss or death anywhere.

So many repeats of a familiar logo along the rest of the walls, over the sterile gleam of the ground. That sharp C in the middle, flanked by two other symbols on either side.

Looking off to my left side: more medical equipment that looked like it had been hooked up to me.

Off to my right: that familiar woman leaning against a table there, watching me with her arms folded.

Familiar only from this place, from my vague awareness of learning her, knowing her, and feeling her.

Familiar from all the times I'd perceived her in my consciousness, reconstructing everything there.

Actually seeing her in-person like this was mostly new for me.

Feeling that it was safe enough, I sat up over this bed. I settled my legs off to the side, on the side facing this person here with me. The only person here with me. At least in this room. I frowned when I saw that same logo from the walls over her uniform, etched there as orange and white over her chest, over the midnight blue. Shining skintight leather lined with more orange, and plenty of black everywhere else, down to her thickened heels she had crossed over the other, supporting herself that way.

Relaxed in her guardedness with her arms folded around her waist like that, I saw the rest of her.

The same language, I found in her face, in her eyes on me that should have looked so cold.

I felt myself scowling at her without realizing it.

Knowing, her lips quirked up in a self-critical grin.

"It's good to see you awake, Commander," she said to me. "How are you feeling?"

Directness automatic: "I'm fine. Where am I? This doesn't look like an Alliance facility."

"That's because it isn't. We reconstructed you after you died two years ago. This is one of our facilities."

Two years…

I glanced at the logo over her chest.

"Cerberus," I deduced. "Is that who you're with? You're the ones who brought me back. And I'm guessing you were in charge. It was you putting everything back together in my head like that."

"Yes, Commander. That's exactly right."

I did feel like myself. Nothing off, or different. Nothing that I could notice on my own.

Two years, though. Ashley had to be twenty-seven years old by now. Two birthdays of hers I'd missed.

Two birthdays, two years, and so much more I'd never be able to get back.

Unless…she had moved on by now. I couldn't know. Then again, I couldn't blame her if she had.

This familiar stranger explained, "Needless to say, Commander, the galaxy still needs you. The Reapers aren't here yet. But it's only a matter of time until they arrive. There's another, more immediate danger posing a threat to humanity. We brought you back to end that threat before the Reapers return. You'll have a team of the best fighters and specialists available. We need your skills and your leadership to pull this victory off."

I only nodded in response.

Whatever Cerberus stood for, I felt that dissipating off into the distance, at least for this.

This person had made herself very familiar to me. She wouldn't have done it for no good reason.

"Here," she offered, reaching for something on the table behind her. "One of your former teammates, Dr. Liara T'Soni, thought you would like to have this. It was her idea. We made sure the Alliance manufactured it for you. Custom-made." She brought the gift from Liara over to me: "This is an M-98 Widow sniper rifle. Anti-material. I've already tested it to make sure it will fit you. I think you'll find it to your liking."

Accepting the Widow in my hands, I looked it over. Such a long, lean, powerful-looking single shot sniper rifle of a light, light brown color. Modified for raw force and defense penetration, as I wanted. With my added concentration, I could likely shoot through cover and even plenty of walls.

Gripping the gun in remembrance, I almost hated how much I loved this thing at first sight.

I could let myself have this one last thing of Liara, though. She used to know me well enough like this.

I set the gun aside for now.

I looked at this person looking back at me.

I didn't like that she was on her feet, standing up in front of me while I still sat down over the bed.

Standing taller than her in her heels, I moved the balance between us to where I wanted it. And even though she was only about an inch shorter than me, it was enough. This was more than enough to remind her of who and what I was. Plenty enough to make her seem so much shorter while she stared down, elsewhere. Focused on the N7 logo over my chest. Focused on the length of my hair falling down on the other side, a little longer than I was used to. Focused on controlling her own breaths as she let out a single, shuddering exhale, and then no more.

I said to her, "Tell me who you are. I need a name."

She focused on my N7 logo again, for strength and composure. "My name is Miranda Lawson. I'm one of Cerberus' most trusted officers and tactical operators. It's safe to say I know your name, who you are and what you stand for. I spent the past two years applying everything I knew about you. And then learning more. Far more. So you don't need to think of me as a stranger."

I offered her my hand.

Miranda stared up at me, keeping herself together. But the longer she made me wait, the more obvious her thoughts became, transposed through her eyes to mine. At some point, though, she realized what this probably looked like, and made herself react as a normal person would have.

When she finally shook my hand, with only the material from her gloves and mine in our way, I felt the source of her dilemma. I felt the current surging from her touch to mine. I felt all that she wouldn't say.

She knew what I knew.

Playing it off, Miranda leaned on her professionalism. "We should go, Commander. My boss wants to speak with you. He'll tell you all about the current mission. When you're done, I'll brief you on a few other details afterward."

I glanced down at my new sniper rifle on the bed.

I wanted to fold it up, to holster it over my back—to get my first feel for it like this out of combat.

My hair was in the way. It was long enough for me to tie it up into my usual tight, taut tail with just the length alone. No ties, no accessories.

Right as I was about to reach up, clicks from Miranda's heels sounded as she walked around behind me.

She was about to touch my hair, reaching higher—but then she stopped herself, privately reprimanding.

"Old habits by now," she apologized. "I should know better about asking first. Do you mind if…?"

"Go ahead," I allowed, satisfied enough by her mindfulness.

The way Miranda held, and maneuvered, and tied, and twisted my hair in consideration, with so much care, it was more than obvious she'd had plenty of practice with this. Not rushing anything, not taking too long; not pulling too tightly or not tight enough; and not letting her hands linger anywhere, as gentle and efficient as she was all at once, even though I knew she wanted to linger.

When she was done, she smoothed her hand over my tail, once, as it fell down my spine, and no more.

Miranda then watched me holster my Widow over my back, before leading me out of this room.

I walked beside her as she brought me down a few open halls. More Cerberus logos on the ground and on the walls; more rooms leading to offices filled with Cerberus scientists, engineers, and other agents. I saw all the diagrams plastered across those offices, filled with images of me, my body, my skeleton, my scans from any given time over the past two years. Those people in the offices, in their uniforms of black, white, gray, orange—they stared outside their windows as I passed by with Miranda, smiling at me in a proud warmth. Unexpected from Cerberus, from what I knew of their reputation.

Proud as they were, these scientists, engineers, and everyone else had to be glad that they'd succeeded.

"We're currently on Lazarus Station," said Miranda. "Every single person here assisted me in bringing you back. The Lazarus Project took up an exorbitant amount of resources, but it was worth it. Aside from some upgrades I'll explain in detail later, you're the same person as you were before." Each door we went through, I allowed her to pass through first, before catching up—like this one. This time, as before, Miranda curled back her smile before continuing, "The Council and the Alliance know what we achieved. You and those you recruit for the team won't need to worry about any sort of legal ramifications in choosing to work with us. Given your value throughout the galaxy, the Illusive Man was able to negotiate those trivial concerns away. Your success is far more important than mere political grudges."

That was good news to me. But I didn't want to qualify my thoughts or my reaction in any type of way. I didn't want her to get a read on me.

"Noted," was all I said.

Miranda seemed to want to smile at that, too.

"I also made the executive decision to stay quiet with anyone else about your reconstruction. For security reasons and for your privacy, it was best to keep the Lazarus Project on a need-to-know basis. Although there is one exception. Lieutenant Williams was aware that you'd return. She's known since the beginning. I haven't told her that the project is complete. Perhaps you'll want to surprise her soon."

Yeah, I did want to surprise Ashley as soon as I could. Especially since it sounded like she hadn't moved on. If she'd known all this time, I could only imagine what she'd put herself through to hold on for me…

And it sounded like Ashley had no problem with this whole Cerberus thing, despite hating them before.

The real crushing mystery was whether Ashley would tell me the truth about this or not.

Miranda soon brought me to a waiting area near the docking station, where a shuttle waited. Heading away from the shuttle, we went over by the chairs lined up in rows over here, next to a window. The view out there past the station's defense guns and artillery: I saw a distant sun surrounded by violet, like a flashlight through the dark expanse of the stars out there. Behind me, across from the window, was another office with more uniformed Cerberus employees at their stations, working in diligence.

Across the way, I saw an armory locker on the wall, and a set of stairs that led down to a different area.

Here, Miranda had set up a computer to work on. She was about to start typing away at the terminal, but she chose to address me first, "The Illusive Man is waiting for you. You'll find the QEC downstairs."

I left her alone, heading down those stairs.

When I was far enough away, walking down the steps, I could've sworn I heard Miranda let out a sigh filled with so much stress and anxiety.

Then again, maybe I was hearing things.

Stepping into this designated area for the quantum entanglement communicator, I embraced this change in my surroundings:

The blazing smolder of a supergiant greeted me in red first, before I saw a suited man sitting in his chair before the sights beyond his expanded window. Smoking a cigarette, drinking from a short glass of American bourbon on the rocks, he held himself a lot like I'd imagined he would. This ambiance of lighted shadows fit him a little too well, though.

"Commander Shepard," stated the Illusive Man—as both a fact of who I was, and a greeting. "I'm glad to see you're up and back on your feet. I'm sure Miranda's told you about the reasons why we brought you back. I'd like to give you some more details before you set off with her."

"I'm listening," I said, again, not wanting to give anything away.

Complete neutrality. As much as possible.

These people already knew enough about me.

I didn't want them in my head in real-time, too.

The Illusive Man began the briefing: "Until the Reapers return, your mission is to find and defeat the Collectors. They're an enigmatic group seemingly working hand-in-hand with the Reapers, like the geth aided Saren and Sovereign. They tend to restrict their operation to the Terminus Systems, abducting human colonies in the tens of thousands. The Collectors are also the ones responsible for the Normandy's destruction two years ago. I want you to lead a team to their homeworld, through the unmapped Omega 4 Relay, and take them out. No one has ever returned from the relay. This will be a suicide mission. But I have faith that you and your team will find a way to get the job done."

Some of that sounded familiar, all from Miranda, from her knowledge after she'd explored my mind, my consciousness. All as a type of bleeding effect that she may or may not have intended, spilling out to me.

Whatever the case, the next mission was clear: stop the Collectors from abducting our colonies.

I could focus on a clear mission with clear objectives. I wanted to. I needed to.

"Understood," I responded. "What's my first objective?"

The Illusive Man paused, the eerie blue glow of his eyes narrowing a bit.

Did he expect me to put up a fight, or to question his authority—or Cerberus' involvement here?

Probably so.

"I'm sending you to Freedom's Progress," he went on. "The Collectors abducted the colonists there only a short time ago. You'll be able to get there first before investigators arrive, possibly disturbing the scene. Find out any clues about how the Collectors took the colonists. Learn whatever you can about their methods. If we can uncover how they did this, then we can come up with a way to fight back."

That rang a bell for me, too. Again, from Miranda leaving traces of herself behind.

From the way she acted earlier, I definitely didn't think she was aware of this. Someone as controlled and prepared as she was, she wouldn't have wanted me to have this kind of access into her head.

The Illusive Man apparently had no idea either. He thought I was over here trying to psych him out.

"Sounds good," I told him. "I'll see what I can find."

Narrowing more, his sight gave away only a mild irritation with me.

As if fishing for a reaction this time, the Illusive Man added, "There's one more thing. We've done our research on your victory against Sovereign. I understand that you were led to believe Dr. T'Soni was the one protecting your mind from outside influences. But this wasn't true. I can confirm that Lieutenant Williams was in fact keeping you safe. She strengthened your will against the Thorian as well as Sovereign's indoctrination attempts. I thought that you should know."

…

"I can accept that," I replied, setting the rest aside. "Thanks for the information."

Snuffing his cigarette over his armrest's tray, premature, the Illusive Man carried on, "Your unique immunity to indoctrination is the best and last chance we have at defeating the Reapers. With you at the tip of the spear, we'll get it done when the time comes. Until then, we'll need access to Reaper technology from the Collector homeworld, in order to strengthen our position in this fight. Of course, your most immediate concern is putting a stop to these human abductions. Go to Freedom's Progress with Miranda. Discover anything you can about the Collectors. We're all counting on you, Commander."

With the press of a button over his console, he ended the QEC call.

He didn't even bother giving me a chance to respond first.

As much as I wanted to smirk over that obvious giveaway, I had to stay unreadable.

And I had a job to do.

Back upstairs, I went to the armory locker first. Sorting through the pistol selection Miranda had set out for me to choose from, I wanted to be mindful. I wanted to make a point. Even if no one else would notice. Even if no one was paranoid enough to pick up on the truth or possibly ask me about this.

I found a Razer pistol—the latest make and build for the current year.

While I set it over my hip as my new sidearm, I heard Miranda working at her computer somewhere behind me in this waiting area. Still doing her best to stay professional, so cool and detached. She failed to remember to type on her terminal at a normal pace and noise level. Whatever she was over there writing or working on, she was pretty pissed off, and just as determined to act like she wasn't.

Yeah, she didn't know.

Having this advantage kept me at ease while I returned to her, standing beside her.

"Commander," stated Miranda, impersonal. Still type-type-typing, so passive-aggressive. "The Illusive Man tells me you had quite the productive meeting. You wouldn't be trying to pull anything, are you?"

"He gave me his orders and I responded to him," I claimed. "Nothing groundbreaking about it."

Slamming her terminal shut, Miranda cut at me, "Even so, you didn't ask him a single question! You didn't object to us, to Cerberus at all. You offered no reaction—as if everything he said was information you already knew! Or are you simply incapable of reacting somehow? Is that it?! Are you broken?"

Scowling now, annoyed now, I cut right back at her, "Are you naturally this bitchy or is it just me?"

Dismayed, Miranda fixed her damned face soon enough, sounding apologetic, "No, Commander, I… I didn't mean it like that. I meant to ask if I had done something wrong. If I had broken you during the project. If I hadn't done my job properly." She winced at my folded arms; she sighed over my deepening scowl. "Well, you're reacting now. I suppose that's all I was looking for… Please forget what I said."

"Miranda, I'm gonna give you a fair warning," I notified her. "You and I have to work together for this mission. That means you're going to be around me a lot, if not all the time. So don't test me. Don't poke and prod me for the reactions you think you want and expect to get away with it. And don't give me that passive-aggressive bullshit when you're not getting your way. I don't want it under any circumstances whatsoever. If I'm not in the mood to show anything, then I'm not in the fucking mood. Am I clear?"

Lowering her head, as I expected, Miranda replied, "Yes, Commander. You're perfectly clear…"

Unfolding my arms, at least, I reminded her, "You said you had some other details to brief me on."

"It can wait until we're in the shuttle," she brooded. "If you're ready, we can go now."

I eased my hand toward the docking bay, palm facing upward: gesturing for her to head on over.

My manners paired with my mood kept Miranda off-balance as she led the way.

She kept on trying to play it off, anyway. I knew Miranda was used to getting her way. I knew she was used to people kissing her ass because of how skilled and accomplished she no doubt was. Hell, she'd brought me back. That was really something. But it was no excuse for the rest of this. Especially after she claimed to know me. Miranda had to know there was no way I'd put up with anything more than standard duty. I was only this courteous with her out of habit. Even after everything, letting her in the shuttle first was a natural reaction for me, like an involuntary function.

I at least appreciated those moments from when I'd first met her. And that she'd brought me back at all.

If not for that, I would've been convinced by now that she was completely fake and full of herself.

---

For the shuttle ride to Freedom's Progress, I didn't expect to have to sit in this cramped space. Sitting across from Miranda, my legs were way too long for this. She was perfectly fine crossing her legs like that, and her arms, taking up the least amount of room possible in her seat. Somehow, Miranda had also decided to sit directly across from me. Literally straight across! And I couldn't move without being rude, despite how annoyed she knew I was by the look on my face. So I was stuck plastering and bending the soles of my combat boots against the steeled foundation of her seat, tangling myself away from the leather labyrinth of her legs and her heeled boots.

If this was the type of shuttle I had to expect for the rest of our missions, then I could only bring a couple of other people with me max at a time. Nothing like that trash Mako where we could all fit in at once.

On top of that, while Miranda talked to me, we had nowhere else to look except at each other.

There was only a single window beside us, open to the darkness and the vague illumination from the stars looking in. This dim, cold lighting brightened the paleness about Miranda's face. Or really just the contrast of her fair skin with her dark shade of hair. And the contrast, the contradiction from her eyes: of a blue so warm here with me, but so cold in habit and in expression.

As cramped as I was compared to her, I had no choice but to zero in on every detail about her like this.

While we talked, Miranda gave me two completely different modes:

Informational. More specifics about the colony, what to expect there. Useful particulars about her combat and tactical specializations as a biotic and tech user, to help shape my orders to her. Relevant historical changes over the past two years, catching me up on the major galactic events that had happened while I was gone. I appreciated speaking to her on this level, in this mode, because Miranda and I could vibe in a chill, intelligent way. We knew history. We knew politics. We knew the military. I kept up with her. She kept up with me. I liked that.

Avoidant. Once she had nothing else to catch me up to speed on, she went quiet. Or she would choke up in between topics, before remembering something else to talk about. Every time, I waited for her to get herself together. Every single time, I would look at her, expectant, before she continued talking. There was nothing to keep up with. I hated it.

When she fell into another frigid silence, I was this close to putting my headphones on and ignoring her.

I managed to stop myself once I picked up on something else.

The way this woman switched modes like this, seemingly on the spot…alarms went off for me.

Miranda was a spy.

Or some type of tactical operative adjacent to a spy. Or an archetype of a spy, of someone who was used to dealing with intelligence and subterfuge for a living. She should have been subtler about it. She should have been used to switching between personable and professional with someone like me. Not professional and paranoid with herself for her own personal reasons. Her giveaways were serious fuckups on her end. She absolutely should have been pissed off and flustered over giving away the game like this. Or at least making herself vulnerable to my observations in such an obvious way.

I made sure she didn't notice my alarms or my noticing. She had no idea whatsoever.

Because she switched modes again once she saw, once again, that I definitely had nothing to talk about or bring up on my own.

"Right, your upgrades," remembered Miranda, professional once more. "I was able to make substantial improvements to your implants. You're now able to use your tactical cloak for an unlimited amount of time, and without any painful side effects. Your Icarus Landing System will keep you safe from even greater heights, well past two kilometers, in case you ever need to escape from a capital-class Reaper ship with only your augmentation to save you. You can stay awake forever if you'd like without abusing your exhaustion implants—you'll only feel drowsy if you make the decision to sleep on your own. Although you won't be able to stave off your hunger and thirst in the same ways. You only need to eat once a day from now on, but you can suspend that for up to a month as with before."

Despite my alarms still going off about her, I did like those upgrades.

"Sounds useful," I mentioned, not wanting to tip her off. "Thanks."

Miranda smiled a bit. "Of course, Commander," she replied. "Unfortunately, I wasn't able to fix the strange glitch with your temperature implants. I'm aware that you and Lieutenant Williams experienced an unusual release of heat whenever you were in the same room together. I couldn't find a solution to the problem. It may persist when you see her again. But I doubt it's anything to worry about."

That weird thing was amusing enough to keep me from worrying, yeah.

I just shrugged.

"In case you do run into any issues," she continued, checking her omni-tool, "I created a chat room for us. I'll use it primarily to check in with you about your health, how you're feeling. I'd like you to report any abnormalities to me so that I can look into them straightaway. We don't need to use this for anything else, if you'd rather not."

Checking my own omni-tool, I saw that she'd already put me in the room, called The Prodigal.

I had to keep from scowling over it. Not because I disapproved.

I actually appreciated, again, that Miranda cared like this.

The problem was that I knew where she'd picked up on this idea from.

She'd probably spied on my old team through that Team Renegade Shepard chat of theirs. She knew everything about them, too. She and Cerberus had stalked all of us throughout our entire mission…

All of us—Ashley included.

It took everything in me to not clench down on my back teeth, to stabilize myself with that tic of mine.

None the wiser, as I needed her to be, Miranda lowered her guard some more. "Unrelated to work, I should also come clean to you about something else… Lieutenant Williams was understandably in a lot of pain after your death. She only started to come back around after I told her about the Lazarus Project. From that point on, she and I—we grew close. Very close. Although we never fell in love. It wasn't about that. It was just a deep, emotional bond that caught us both off-guard. That's all. She only loves you."

I scowled worse than a fucking demon.

She tried pretty damned hard to not flinch before me.

"I was dead," I repeated. "But Ashley didn't move on."

Trying to stay neutral. "Yes, that's right…"

Leaning in, slow and steady, closer to her, I hard-pressed my hand against the back of Miranda's seat, making sure to intimidate—"Did you sleep with my girlfriend?"

Miranda's eyes went wide this close to mine. "No, Commander, I didn't—!"

"But you wanted to," I accused. "Didn't you?" When she wouldn't respond to me, I slammed my hand against this damned steel, as hard as I could've destroyed her with instead, making her flinch. "Did you or did you not want to have sex with my girlfriend? I'm not fucking around here, Lawson. Answer me!"

"We both wanted it but we agreed not to—"

Balling my fist against this steel instead, I warned her, "I'm telling you now: you should have lied to me."

"Commander, I can't do that," tried Miranda, folding her arms so tight around herself, her limbs started to dig into one another. "I can't lie to you. Not about this. Not about anything! I'm already ashamed of myself over this as it is. So if you're going to hit me, then you might as well do it now."

She knew damn well that I couldn't put my hands on her.

Miranda was convinced this was only about respect. This was about way more than that. So much more.

Blowing off steam, I threw myself back against my seat, as far away from her as I could get.

Directly across from her, staring at her, still, I could only rest my throbbing head over my fist instead.

Rapid pulsing from my temple beneath my gloved thumb—I kept my sight fixated on these pathetic fragments of contradictions in front of me. As much as Miranda did her best to avoid my stare, acting like she could disappear if she folded her arms hard enough against her body, I knew what she was:

Sickening, sycophantic and psychotic, all-in-one.

I knew what this was. And I was shackled. Locked here in this cage she had carved with her own hands.

This was the so-called ice queen that had taken advantage of Ash, earning my girlfriend's trust and co-dependent friendship; starting these reactions for the three of us, cramped and chained together. All roads led directly to me. Every single one. No matter her genuine care, Miranda's intentions were clear.

I knew exactly what this woman wanted from me and how she'd planned on getting it, scheming.

If I could have shot Miranda dead then and there, execution-style, then I would have fucking done it.

---

I had to push my emotions back for the time being. I had to empty my mind.

Miranda and I had arrived to Freedom's Progress.

We had a mission.

I couldn't afford to mope around and break down over these apocalyptic reactions so deep in my soul, for Ashley, for her.

Only her, because I'd helped her kill Liara, because of what she'd gotten herself into—compromised by Cerberus for life—and I wasn't there. I wasn't there to keep her safe, to help her through it, to protect her. I wasn't there for her, for my babe, my baby. Because I had fucking died. I was dead! And the only option she'd had was to run into someone else's arms: this goddamned spy who wanted her, who wanted me way more; who exploited their friendship as a trusting free-for-all. Now this desperate woman had brought me back to life, only to throw me into this damned cage where I couldn't blow up, couldn't give myself away, couldn't say a word about what I knew or how or why. Not without compromising Ashley even more. Not without possibly destroying her real friend Miranda who'd supported her through the two long, painful years she'd suffered while I was gone. Not without breaking her heart, after all the promises I'd made.

At the end of the day, I could deal with this subterfuge of my own. I could keep my cover. I could blend in. I could lay low and lie as much as possible without breaking, and I could do whatever was necessary to make up for everything. I could hide, becoming invisible. I was in my element here. I was used to it.

Because Ashley was more important than my useless feelings, especially right now during a mission.

I could make these sacrifices for her. Just not without all this pain and regret and frustration…

These motherfucking Collectors needed to pay for destroying my ship. For killing me. For putting my team through so much grief, and for starting this mess of a situation that was my new life—

And for taking me away from Ashley in the first place.

Finally escaping that cramped shuttle, I stepped out to the fresh air of the colony at night, after I forced myself to let Miranda exit first. Rocky ground and terrain. Empty and hollow from these abandoned homes, with the moonlight above as our only company—this place didn't care to expect or welcome us after the abduction not that long ago. One larger moon loomed overheard as most of the light, watching through the clouds darkened to gray, while another, smaller one hung out in the distance.

Illusions of cold, mirages of snowflakes falling—it looked like it had started snowing.

Nothing collected on the drear of the stony ground, drab and already-white as it was.

Some of that supposed snow collected over Miranda's boots as she ambled around, observing.

"Awfully quiet—as it should be," she pointed out. "I can't imagine the Collectors left any of the colonists behind. I thought we'd at least see some signs of fighting, resistance. There's nothing. I wonder why…"

During our briefing on the shuttle, Miranda had uploaded the colony's schematics to my omni-tool. I brought them up, syncing Freedom's Progress' layout with my enemy radar. Scores of signatures from patrolling mechs showed up, blinking in red over the orange of the map's details: bipedal LOKI mechs, FENRIS dog mechs, waves and waves of security drones, and even a huge, armor-plated YMIR heavy mech somewhere farther in. I picked up on some friendlies caught in the middle of everything, but figured they might've been survivors. And if they weren't, we'd find out who they were soon enough.

"Miranda, this place is a mess," I said. "The colony's crawling with mechs just past here."

"Standard security," she figured. "Then again, they should've helped the colonists during the attack."

"Whether they helped or not, the mechs are programmed to attack anything on sight now. They're already fighting some friendlies a ways inside. So they won't be happy to see us, either. I don't want to get overwhelmed out here. Especially not before we manage to find what we need."

Miranda took one look at my radar, eyes growing wide in understanding. "Yes, I see… That will definitely be a problem. Awaiting your orders, then."

"We need to make our way to those survivors—or whoever they are. They might have some answers."

"Agreed. I'm only worried about the sheer number of hostile mechs. They could come after us sooner."

The single, most obvious solution.

As I activated my tactical cloak, fading to invisibility, Miranda stared through to the glimmer of me in confusion. I couldn't know why she did, since this made the most sense. She had to know what this was, too. All from the damned attachments I'd formed with her while she brought me back, this was all we could do:

When I set my hand over her shoulder, Miranda cloaked with me.

Forms shimmering together beneath the light of the street lamps fogging through the night, and that looming moonlight—this was the best path.

Even with Miranda staggering back and away from me, out of my reach, so much like Ashley had done the first time this happened on the Normandy, right before Noveria. Even with her staying cloaked, with or without my touch, exactly like Ash had been able to do. Like Liara had never been able to do with me.

Then again, I'd never really tested it. If I had, then I probably could've known sooner.

"Already!?" questioned Miranda. "But… But I thought…"

"This only works with certain people, yes," I finished. "A strong enough attachment will do the trick. It's been two years. I felt you for most of that time."

Somehow, this didn't seem to answer Miranda's concerns.

Still, she made herself say, "Well…I suppose so."

"Come on—let's go," I directed, holding her hand—feeling pure energy from her gloved touch this time.

I didn't need to do this, but I couldn't let myself lose track of her.

As much as I thought about tossing her into the water in the canals below, green and steaming with heat, I couldn't do that.

No matter how much I wanted to.

Accepting my methods, Miranda did her best to compose herself. "Understood, Commander."

Switching, switching.

Cloaked together, I brought Miranda inside the nearest house with me. Flickering lights reacting to our presence, brightening up the dark. Abandoned dinner trays over the tables. Forgotten belongings lying on the ground. Fallen sidearms from the colonists who'd tried to defend themselves, but hadn't been able to manage in time. Every house we passed through showed the same telltale signs—and nothing else. No other clues from an attack. No other ways to tell that anything had happened here at all.

And no footprints that the Collectors had left behind, so to speak. They left no traces. Nothing.

Nothing about the colony seemed out of the ordinary at all—until we passed through the first gate leading to the next area, closer to where those other friendlies were. We found those LOKI mechs and FENRIS mechs patrolling around, with swarms of security drones flying and buzzing overhead not too far away from them. All we had to do was slip past them to reach those other people.

Those other people, whose blips on my radar continued to lessen and lessen, their numbers thinning.

We didn't have much time before all of them disappeared.

But when Miranda stopped to a loud, clicking halt in her heels at the sight of the mechs, I found another problem. That impractical Cerberus uniform of hers was the worst for infiltration missions like this. Typical.

I let go of her hand.

"Commander…? What are you—?"

Impatient, I picked Miranda up without any warning or indication.

Whatever her reaction was, I couldn't see it past our shared invisibility, as I preferred.

She was at least practical enough to hold me around my neck, my shoulders, without protesting this.

I carried Miranda along, sneaking past the mechs while they kept on patrolling, oblivious to us. Already, I knew this was way faster than it would've been if I'd made her adjust her footsteps and footing in those boots of hers. Hell, most of her average, expected weight was from her boots, slinging along in her own forced lightness; almost tipping the scales of her distribution in my arms. I noticed it even more on the off-chances when she crossed her ankles over the other, tightening, fearing each time one of the dog mechs traipsed by on their four legs, too close for her liking, but far enough away for me to deal with.

Miranda stayed quiet, anyway. Forcing herself not to breathe from time to time. Muting her reactions.

Just up ahead, far enough away from the mechs we'd passed by, I heard the loudening sounds of more security drones—and their rapid-fire guns mowing down those friendlies, screaming in death and agony.

Setting Miranda back down, I deactivated our invisibility. We hurried close enough to the house where the attack was, taking in the scene first from behind cover:

Of the last of the 'survivors' here on Freedom's Progress, these friendlies weren't human at all. A team of quarians, outsiders, who were here for some reason or another—they ran from the security drones flying after them, while others got taken out trying to slow the drones down. The last of them nearly fell right as Miranda and I arrived. Anyone who was left after that, they were probably done for.

I was about to make up my mind not to intervene, since I wasn't sure if helping them was worth the risk.

But then someone caught my eye, bringing me back to a scene from long ago.

The last quarian holding her ground, the sole survivor of her unit—I shouldn't have recognized her in that enviro-suit of shades of purple, with yellow and black, but I was somehow convinced that I knew her. More so once I saw how she fought: outnumbered by the drones, she hacked the ones she could, forcing them to fight each other. She summoned her own violet-tinted combat drone to distract the others, stun-locking them in place. Any other drones that were about to get too close, she aimed her geth plasma shotgun at them and fired, overloading their shields with her disruptor rounds.

"I won't let you take me down!" shouted the quarian, in a familiar accent. Different, stronger, thicker, and more pronounced now that she was two years older, but still decidedly her.

That was Tali, without a doubt.

Quiet enough to not draw any attention to us, I gave my order from behind cover: "Miranda, chain your Overload strikes at those drones primed by the quarian's disruptor ammo. The tech bursts should slow them down. Back her up while I keep an eye out for any other hostiles."

"Affirmative."

Rushing ahead, Miranda sent several precision Overload strikes to the drones already primed by that ammo. Stronger than I'd predicted, the swarm of drones blew up in chain reactions, detonating from the tech bursts. Chaining higher, louder, explosive: the bursts enflamed in the loud eruption of an electrical fire inside the house. The embers burned through everything in sight. Miranda fired her light submachine gun at the few stragglers still trying to fight back, taking them down. All the while, I watched her in a silent surprise. From what I could remember, whenever Tali and Garrus had done this before, no matter which one of them had set off the explosion, it hadn't been anywhere near as devastating as what Miranda had done just now.

She then pulled Tali away from the smoke and fires that had caught her off-guard. Away, and over this way back where it was safe, Tali let herself be pulled along, not wanting to risk getting burned now that the house was about to go up in flames.

Miranda had nearly gotten Tali out of the building safely when my radar flashed in warning.

Running in as kamikazes, a handful of FENRIS dog mechs dashed through the fires. Heading straight for Tali and Miranda; intent on exploding on impact, burning them alive.

Stepping back, far enough away, I retrieved my new Widow sniper rifle and aimed:

Thin reticles met as a cross at the center. I found the first mech's eyes glowing as a maddened red braving through the blaze. Leading a small pack in a line, they followed each other as four or more, almost reaching Tali and Miranda. Almost catching both of them off-guard this time. Snapping their attention to those dogs about to reach them.

I took the single shot.

This knockback should've broken my arms clear in half. Instead I only felt the satisfying feedback from this exacting boom, as precise as my aim. One shot was enough. One infinitely powerful shot from this thing tore straight through the line of mechs. This bullet punched through the metal with ease, taking them out one after another. They exploded well away from Miranda and Tali, adding the ongoing fire.

Miranda slammed the door shut to the house. Tali hurried to seal it that way, locking and containing the fires inside—for now, at least.

Stepping away from the door, Tali sighed in relief. She then looked to Miranda. "I don't know who you are, but…" And then down to the Cerberus logo over Miranda's uniform. Tali paused, about to reconsider her words. In the end, she stuck to the original plan: "But—thank you."

"It was nothing," claimed Miranda. "Don't worry about it."

Humming in a barely-veiled suspicion, Tali decided not to make a big deal out of this. Accepting her judgment, Miranda ambled a ways away to keep watch, and to give us a moment alone.

Tali then turned to me, watching as I holstered my sniper rifle over my back.

The brights of her eyes behind her mask widened and lit up more—until she hesitated, stopping herself.

Different now, yet still the same as I remembered her, Tali wavered between hurrying over to me and staying right where she was. Or even backing away in uncertainty as those flames burned on behind her, rising atop the roof of that house. I couldn't blame her. I could've been anyone, after all. Wiser as she should've been, she was likely around twenty-four years old now if I remembered right. She'd clearly completed her Pilgrimage, too, using the gift I'd given her. This new suit of hers, the intricate patterning there in darker violet over the paler purple of her hood and the rest of her: it all fit her so well.

Fitting in that aesthetic, maybe my eyes softened. Maybe that was why Tali softened in response.

"Shepard," she whispered. "Is that you…? Or could it be…someone pretending to be you? I can't tell."

"It's me, Tali," I reassured her. "I can prove it if you need me to."

More curious than doubtful, Tali requested, "Yes, please do. How can I know that you're you?"

"Yeah, it's me, but I might be more insensitive these days. Sorry."

Convinced, yet still cautious, Tali sniffled, trembling a little. Unable to make herself move from her spot.

She believed me.

Softening a bit more, for her, I went over to Tali and held her again, just like old times. Reminding me so much of before, of those calming moments on the Normandy, Tali held me back in the same ways—but stronger. Tighter. Full of disbelief, and need, all mixed and jumbled together. No matter how much time had passed, she still felt as small in my arms as she had before, if not more. Listening to her hold back her emotions as much as possible, some of them still managed to slip away from her. Through that mild breaking, I could tell that Tali did seem…a little broken. Maybe more than that. A lot more.

She held herself together, though. She kept everything in place, mending those gaps and tears in her well-being, in her mind; and in her heart, more than likely.

Tali made a fist and hit my shoulder with it, defiant. "You weren't supposed to die like that," she anguished. "I can't even begin to tell you what the past two years have done to me. And it all started because we lost you. I told you during the attack that I didn't want to leave your side! Look what happened afterward…"

"I know, Tali," I remembered. "I'm sorry. You've been through a lot—I can see it. But I'm here now."

"How?" she wanted to know, pulling away just enough to gaze up at me. "How did you come back…? How long ago did you return? Why didn't you tell me right away? I missed you, Shepard. So much."

"Cerberus brought me back. I only woke up today. They told me about Freedom's Progress and sent me to investigate. I'm here to find out how the colonists were abducted. I didn't really have time for anything else before I shipped out. Looks like it was for the best. Otherwise I might've been too late."

Tali accepted that. "Right, the colonists… I do know something about them." I let her step out of my hold, watching as she found her bearings again. "Or at least, I know how to find out. My squad and I were supposed to find another quarian who is here on Pilgrimage. We saw him lock himself away on the far side of town. We were on our way to take him back to the Flotilla when those mechs attacked us."

"The quarians those drones gunned down—was that your whole squad?"

"Yes… Prazza, and everyone. They're all dead. I was in charge. Now I'm the only one left." Tali sighed, before muttering, "Some commander I am…"

"Your team was overwhelmed," I reasoned. "It wasn't your fault."

"I know it wasn't," she believed. "But it still hurts." Tali glanced at Miranda still keeping watch not too far away. "Maybe we should save the rest until after the mission. That quarian I mentioned, Veetor, is the one programming those mechs to attack on sight. He was always…nervous—so if he suffered any damage to his suit during the abduction, then he could be delirious. We need to find him and see what he knows about what happened here. He should still be in a warehouse at the loading bay."

I used my omni-tool to find the coordinates for that warehouse. "All right, we can head out and find Veetor together. You should join me after the mission. I'm taking out the ones who captured the colonists."

Tali paused, before admitting, "Shepard, you know I'd join you for anything. No matter what. Even if you are working for Cerberus. If they brought you back, then I shouldn't hold grudges against them. But…"

Masking my disappointment, I prompted her, "But what?"

Anxious, she pulled at her hands, explaining, "I can't join your team. Not yet, I mean! I-I'm working on something for my father, and…" Tali composed herself again. "Listen, I'll explain more once we're done here. Long story short: Father and I got into a big argument about a year ago—over something—and he's just now starting to come back around! I only need to finish a few more tasks and favors for him, and then I'll be right there with you again. I promise. Trust me, I wish it didn't have to be this way…"

"I understand, Tali. Whenever you're ready, let me know and I'll come pick you up. Deal?"

Tali brightened, welcoming my own promise into her heart. "Deal."

I gestured for her to follow me. "Miranda, the three of us will continue on from here. One of my old teammates has the intel we need on where to go. She's a tech genius. This is Tali'Zorah…"

Right. She had completed her Pilgrimage, so her ship-name had changed. Then again, Miranda probably knew these things already, and then some.

Tali giggled and introduced herself to Miranda; re-introducing herself to me. "Tali'Zorah vas Neema."

"Of course," accepted Miranda. "It's a good thing you're here, Tali'Zorah. We appreciate the intel."

Checking my radar, the path to the warehouse looked about the same as the one on the way here: filled with patrolling hostile mechs and security drones. I found a similar story at the actual loading bay itself. More of those drones, on top of a huge YMIR heavy mech in the area. All of them were probably patrolling the area to protect Veetor inside the warehouse, as paranoid as he was in his delirium.

He was safe, anyway. So we didn't necessarily have to rush.

Still, if we wasted time fighting through all the mechs in our way, we'd no doubt alert Veetor to our presence out here. I didn't want him getting any bright ideas about sending enough hostiles our way to wipe us out, too.

Miranda was fine. Her impractical uniform aside, she could cloak with me.

I looked to Tali looking up at me. Waiting for my orders, she no doubt wondered what was on my mind.

Testing, hoping, I set my hand over Tali's shoulder.

When I activated my tactical cloak, she shifted to invisibility with me: her suit and her body underneath. And so did Miranda, my intentions traveling across to her without us needing physical contact. Even when I let go of Tali's shoulder—like with Miranda—she remained unseen, with the three of us still cloaked together through these bonds they both shared with me.

Tali almost jumped in surprise. "How did you—? The last time when you tried, I couldn't!"

I remembered thinking about Tali in those moments right before I'd died. Before I'd suffocated and burned out, she had been on my mind. Along with Ashley. Along with Liara. I could never forget how special Tali was to me. How I had my own crush on her, still attracted to her voice, her intelligence, her personality, and her dedication to me. Even though I'd never told Tali about this myself. Even though there was probably a lot more going on here than I realized. So it all made perfect sense to me.

Now wasn't the time to explain any of this to her.

"Let's get going," I ordered, holding Tali's hand, and Miranda's. Heat and more heat from both of them. "We need to get to the loading bay and find Veetor in the warehouse. Stick with me and we'll be fine."

I found a longer way around the patrolling mechs and security drones this time, crossing through the abandoned houses, and over the moonlit walkways on the far side of the area. Skirting around at this distance, I didn't have to worry about Miranda's ridiculous heels. Or even Tali's clear lack of infiltration experience in the way her armored boots scuffled along the rocky ground as she walked. I couldn't take any risks with them. Not with their safety on the line like this.

Miranda relaxed during the stroll. Tali did as well, letting herself accept things for what they were now.

I would need them to be at their best once we made it to the loading bay. That heavy mech and those drones weren't going to let us find Veetor just like that. So I went ahead and let Tali and Miranda lower their guard; letting them trust me as much as they did.

In my allowances, I felt myself almost getting distracted by these two, and in such different ways:

As more time went on, Tali gripped my hand over hers, tighter and tighter. Needing, her three gloved fingers of hers found a way to wrap around the five of mine. Still so much smaller than I was, she stayed as close to me as she could, her enviro-suit and her body heat brushing right against my stealth suit. Needing to know that I was definitely still here. Needing to know that this wasn't a dream. I remembered, then, that she had lost Liara, too. Pretty much directly after losing me. That kind of shock to her system…it was no wonder she seemed to cling to me more like this. It was no wonder at all that I could see the crevices in her mind, feeling the fissures there, not entirely healed or sealed over time.

I wished I could've apologized to her about Liara; explained what I'd done. Even if I hadn't made my choices for Ashley on purpose. I still felt like this was all my fault. So, from now on, I made up my mind to not be as distant with Tali as I'd been before. We were supposed to be friends. And I knew she wanted us to be closer. She would never tell me that, specifically, or push me where she thought I didn't want to go. I had to take the initiative, then. But maybe I did want Tali to open up a little more. To push me in a certain way. Whatever the case, I needed her to hold on to me just as she did now. I liked that she relied on me.

Miranda had also let me hold my hand over her own, both this time and before. Something about power, something about control, something about dominance and submission—she had given it up to me willingly and without a fight. Slenderness of her five fingers hidden in her lean leather, I couldn't remember when she'd intertwined them between mine. Startled a bit, her hand stiffened and shook in my hold. She seemed to notice that I had noticed—or she'd realized her own instinctive actions. But Miranda didn't pull away from me. She didn't try to adjust her hold. She didn't apologize, or say anything at all. She just kept walking with me, kept letting me guide her forward.

I let myself question if I'd had it right about her intentions. As pissed off and suspicious as I was, already overprotective of Ashley, I couldn't really know what Miranda planned on doing with me, now that I was here, now that I was back. Unless I saw more of those traces that she'd bled behind in my mind, I understood that I couldn't believe anything for certain. Still, the current of heat radiating from her touch to mine spoke of such a loud tale, and a long one—much longer than Tali's, and even Ashley's.

Maybe I just needed to accept that I wasn't the same as before.

Not one hundred percent. Nowhere close to that.

Even then, that didn't make this feeling go away. Knowing that Miranda had taken advantage of Ashley, if nothing else, forced this reaction in me, like knives clashing somewhere underneath my skin. And I didn't want to let go of this feeling, as much as it made my blood broil. I needed my justification for this.

Acceptable distractions, ending them as much as I could: I returned my focus to this last empty house we passed through. Still no clues or any signs of an attack anywhere. Still nothing to discern or go off of.

This Veetor needed to have some answers for us.

When we made it to the wide door leading to the loading bay, I wasn't surprised to find that it was locked shut. Those security drones and that heavy mech were just past here. As overprotective as I was.

Tremors through the ground from the YMIR mech's slow, weighty stomping around reached us here.

Miranda forced herself to keep her balance. "What is that?"

"Sounds like a heavy mech," noticed Tali. "YMIR for sure. That armor plating clanking around—I'd recognize it anywhere. It's going to have a rocket launcher and machine guns in its artillery. And I hear some security drones buzzing through the air. They'd rip right through our shields before the mech could even get a chance to fire at us. This won't be good."

Invisible and all, I felt Tali and Miranda both looking at me in worry.

They already knew my weaknesses. They didn't need to waste time pointing them out.

Besides, neither of them were equipped to dealing with this kind of onslaught. Not for too long, anyway.

If I focused on taking out the mech first, then the drones would be free to punch through Miranda and Tali's shields. But if I focused on the drones, then they'd be out of the way, even though the heavy mech would immediately turn to me, keeping me from aiming properly to fire at it. Not until I could get Tali and Miranda to distract it some more while I moved to a better vantage point, for a proper headshot.

Only one or the other.

Uncloaking the three of us at once, I made up my mind:

"As soon as we open this door, they're going to be over here," I told them. "Even if we'd stayed cloaked, it wouldn't have mattered. They'd have opened fire anyway. So first things first: I need the two of you to buy me some time. Run in, take cover, and stay far away from that heavy mech. I'll take out those drones before they can flank you. Once they're down, we'll work together to take out the YMIR unit."

"Understood, Commander," replied Miranda. "How do you want to handle that last one?"

"I already know it's going to come right for me after I deal with the drones. I won't be able to get rid of it on my own." I looked to Tali. "Can you disable that rocket launcher and those guns?"

Tali responded, "I can, but not until the mech's shields are down, at the very least. The armor underneath won't be a problem—I'll be able to work through that. The shields will be the only issue."

"Then I want you both to repeat your tech burst from earlier: Tali, use your shotgun to prime the mech with your disruptor ammo, and then Miranda will overload the mech and set everything off. We'll improvise as needed after that."

"Okay, got it," said Tali.

Miranda used her omni-tool to get Tali in on our new radio frequency. "Here, we'll need this to coordinate."

"Thanks, Miranda. I'm in now. Shepard, want me to breach the door? I'll go whenever you're ready."

"Go ahead and open it."

While Tali worked on unlocking the door, I took cover along the wall nearby. I knew she was ready for this. I trusted her capabilities. And I also knew what to expect from her, now that I had seen a preview of how much she'd grown over the years.

Miranda remained an unknown to me. Even as she waited behind Tali—without her submachine gun drawn—I couldn't know what to expect from her. That success earlier had been more or less prepped beforehand for her, by accident and by chance. She had taken advantage of that accident. So I needed to see what this spy was like when she could only follow my orders, or improvise on the spot, to win the battle in front of her.

Cloaking to invisibility on my own, for myself only, I made sure my radio was on.

And then Tali forced the door open, pulling back the weighted curtain on this last respite of ours:

Clanking footsteps from the bone-white of that heavy mech, and the irritating zooms from the security drones flying through the air in this direction—Tali and Miranda ran straight through as ordered. They quickly found enough cover to hide behind. They kept moving together. Side by side from cover to cover: crates and empty houses and thick ramps from the stairs leading into those homes. Staying mobile, they avoided the worst from the YMIR unit and the drones firing at them. For now, as I needed.

Widow at the ready, I aimed at the first drone getting too close to Miranda and Tali from behind a crate.

Quick-scoping, I popped off a shot, knocking it out of the air. I repeated this quickness at the next drone and the next. Quicker and quicker, way faster and more precise than I expected. Only stopping to reload in between single shots. Only glancing over to notice what Miranda was up to while she and Tali stuck to cover. As I aimed, I saw that glow of Miranda's omni-tool, cycling and working as she supported me. She fine-tuning my rifle's ballistics in real-time. She quickened my shots and improved my accuracy against these things zipping around in the air, helping me fire at them like stationary target practice.

Miranda had told me about this earlier on the shuttle.

Seeing it for myself helped to take the edge off. A little bit. Enough.

Once I finished off the drones, that heavy mech turned right in my direction.

I ran farther inside the loading bay. Knowing that this thing had a lock on me, cloak or no cloak, I got to cover behind one of the houses.

I gave my order via radio: "Tali, Miranda, get on those tech bursts—now!"

"Priming the heavy mech!" replied Tali, taking those plasma shots with her gun, ammo disrupting.

Still lumbering toward me, the mech only stopped once Miranda set off the detonation, overloading. Cutting through over half of its shields, the bursting electrical explosion was only enough to stagger the thing back. I used the distraction to run away as fast as I could.

The mech opened its arm, about to fire its rocket launcher straight at me. Right at my back. Setting off another burst, Tali and Miranda's teamwork staggered the mech one more time, stopping the rocket.

I kept running, up to higher ground this time, atop one of the roofs.

With Miranda too busy to boost me again, I had to be more strategic about this. Any shot just anywhere on the mech's form might not have been enough to take it out. This had to be a one-shot. Otherwise I'd only draw its attention again. I needed to line up the perfect headshot to get through that plating.

"Its shields are down!" I said. "Tali, disable that rocket launcher and the guns! Miranda, keep it busy while I get up to this vantage point!"

"Disabling the launcher first!" confirmed Tali.

Miranda complied, "Right away, Commander! I'll take out the armor for you."

More than I'd expected—Miranda kept the heavy mech busy, all right.

Getting out in front of the damned thing, Miranda drew the heavy mech's attention. Webbing and glowing a biotic blue from her boots, to the midnight blue of her uniform, and up to her skull, she drew her powers through her arms. The clench of her clawed hands: she melted and distorted that armor with her powerful warp. Elevating, she controlled the YMIR in place, bending its defenses away. Defenseless as it was with its arms disabled and overheated from Tali's efforts, Miranda had the upper-hand.

Until those disables wore off and the mech fired a rocket directly at her instead.

I hurried up to this roof.

Reaching the new ground, I had a view of the mech from directly behind Miranda, aglow as she still was with her biotics. Still dominating the heavy mech in her dark energized grip. Still keeping it on its proverbial knees while it couldn't fight back. Tali remained on standby behind cover, waiting for my shot. She knew—as soon as this YMIR went down, it would detonate not long afterward. I trusted that she was ready to help Miranda get out of the way in time if necessary.

Lining up my aim, I found the heavy mech's eye glowing red within the black opening of its head.

Concentrating, so intense:

The top of Miranda's head was only a thread away from my target. Somehow, the sounds of her biotics soothed me. Soothing more in the memory of that thing Liara used to do to me, with her hands caressing my face, with her biotics glowing and calming. All of it sharpened my focus. Glowing in that blue and white intensity of her own, Miranda kept the mech right where I needed it. She kept herself in harm's way, knowing exactly where my aim was. She held her ground, holding her warp there. Holding her control with her back to me. Trusting me to do what I did best.

Some newfound trust of my own—I pulled the trigger on that red and black with this knockback, ending.

Sending the heavy mech to the ground, it crumpled there as a heap of scrap, so seismic one last time.

Tali hurried out of cover. She ended Miranda's biotic focus as she pulled her away, far enough away.

Safely away, they hid in time from the mini-earthquake of an explosion. Detonating as a hazed blast of fiery reds as flames, the YMIR unit self-destructed. Crater of scrap metal left behind, the charred ground reached out across the detonation radius, well past where Miranda had been before.

Glad that was over with, I disabled my cloak and holstered my gun away.

Tali and Miranda looked up to me here on the roof, breathing out in relief. They watched as I jumped off the edge. I landed back down on the ground, bending my legs as my hydraulics, before I stood up again as normal. Walking past them, I led the way over to the warehouse nearby.

"Good work, you two," I stated. "Let's wrap this up. Veetor should be right through here."

They followed behind me without a word. But I knew better. I sensed their private reactions.

The way Tali seemed much lighter as she walked. The way Miranda gave off an aura of pride, actually getting to fight by my side for the first time and succeeding like that.

Both of them, so captivated by me. In their own ways.

I acted like I didn't notice, opening the door to this warehouse.

I let Miranda and Tali in first to this room of a dim, shadowy red, filled with so many monitors near the console. Sitting at that console had to be Veetor himself, his enviro-suit appearing the same colors as this room. Delirious, paranoid, babbling as he typed away, he completely ignored us behind him. He went on and on about some shit I didn't care to understand:

"Monsters coming back. Mechs will protect. Safe from swarms. Have to hide. No monsters. No swarms. No-no-no-no-no."

I told Tali, "Go see what his problem is. Find out what he knows about the colonists."

"Will do, Shepard," she complied, approaching him. "Veetor, it's me. It's Tali. You're safe now."

"No Veetor. Tali? Not here. Impossible. Swarms can't find. Monsters coming. Have to hide."

Well out of patience already, I retreated back to the exit. I leaned on the doorway to breathe in the cold air from outside. Tali eventually sighed, using her omni-tool to disable all of those monitors in front of Veetor, getting his attention that way. But I'd already mentally checked out from this whole thing.

I felt Miranda's eyes on me, observing. She half-listened to Veetor ramble to Tali about the 'monsters'—the Collectors—that had taken the colonists away. Targeting humans. Unable to target Veetor since he was a quarian. We knew that already. So, with this brief leeway, Miranda fully stared at the back of my head as I stood here. She stared at a lot more than that. She took in these harsh shadows over me, harsher still from this half-hearted red dimming over the black of my stealth suit. She took in the shape of me in my suit. The shape of my reticence, the shape of my impatience. The shape of my hips that she could see, darkening her sight with whatever thoughts had overtaken her mind. She honestly expected that I didn't care to notice her doing this, and so she stared more, like she was somehow safe from my perception.

Miranda wasn't safe from me.

"Shepard, Miranda," called Tali. "You'll want to see this. Take a look." We both turned around, finding the security footage of the abduction playing across the multiple monitors, interspersed there as a single image. "These…things took away the colonists. Do either of you know what they are?"

Bipedal, carrying alien-looking assault rifles. Large, curved heads, sharpened at the ends. Dark-colored forms matching the hue of the pods they carried with the humans inside, and those bugs swarming around.

Miranda responded, "Yes, those are the Collectors—without a doubt."

Taken aback, Tali asked, "Collectors…? What are those?"

"They're a species from somewhere beyond the Omega 4 Relay, working with the Reapers. It seems they're only targeting humans for these types of abductions throughout the Terminus Systems. No one knows why. They're also the same group who attacked the Normandy two years ago. That large, alien ship belonged to them—the Collectors."

Quieted anger from Tali's remembrance: "I see…"

"Those seeker swarms certainly explain what happened here. They look like miniature probes of some sort. The Collectors must have used these swarms to immobilize the colonists with a stasis field or nerve toxin, before carrying them off in those pods. It's no wonder there are hardly any signs of an attack."

Tali reasoned, "Yes, that would make the most sense. Though I think that's all the information we're getting. Veetor doesn't appear to know anything more."

Miranda agreed, "So it would seem."

"I should take him back to the Flotilla. He needs medical attention. Do the two of you have a way out of here?"

"We have our shuttle, yes. It's still waiting for us. Did Veetor stop programming those mechs to attack on sight?"

Veetor said, "Yes-yes-yes. No more monsters. Safe back home. No mechs. No more attacks."

"Then it sounds like we'll all be just fine," deduced Miranda.

"Here—a gift," added Veetor, opening his omni-tool. He forwarded some data to the three of us. "I studied seeker swarms. Found data, readings. Might be useful. Want to help. Help for saving me."

Tali expressed, "Thank you, Veetor. This should be very helpful." She came over to me by the exit. "Well, I guess this is goodbye…for now. I know I said we would talk more after the mission. Now that everything's over, I admit I'm starting to feel a little too emotional. I'm not sure you'd want to see me once everything finally sinks in. Or—maybe what I'm trying to say is…I'm just really embarrassed right now. I don't want to make a fool out of myself. Not in front of you, or your new teammate."

"If you need some more time, I can wait," I replied. "Whenever you're ready, like I said. No pressure."

"All right. Thank you, Shepard. And you're not so insensitive, you know. I worried that you might be. I'm glad you've proved me wrong. You're still the same as I remember you."

Miranda went over to the console, busying herself by looking over more footage of the Collectors.

Once again, and one more time—for now—Tali gave me a hug.

I returned her embrace, glad to have this time with her, too.

"Let me know when you make it back home," I requested. "I'll make sure you have my personal email address instead. We can use that to talk, catch up a bit until I pick you up."

Tali nodded against my shoulder. "I'll be sure to do that," she promised. "It's sweet that you care this much, too. I appreciate it."

"Well, I'd appreciate if you didn't tell Ashley that you saw me. I plan on surprising her soon."

"I figured," she noted, oddly neutral. "Your secret's safe with me. Though I'm not sure how she'll react to this whole Cerberus thing. I'll wish you luck…" Why did she sound so off about this, about Ashley? Tali went ahead and whispered to me, quiet enough: "By the way. What's with this Miranda woman? She's definitely capable—and a very worthy fighter—but I can't help noticing that there's something…more going on with her? Umm…"

Strangeness aside, I had to stop myself from laughing over how nosey Tali was.

"What gives you that idea?" I asked.

Tali explained, "Many things. Mostly the way Miranda stares at you when she thinks you don't notice. And not in a friendly way. I first saw it when you and I spoke alone earlier. I've seen this before, too. It's a lot like the looks Ashley would give you in the early days, before your relationship. It's like that—just more. Far more intense. Does she not think that I have eyes, and that I can see these things about her?"

"I get what you mean," I said. "I'm just not sure how to handle that conversation yet."

"Hmm, yes… Miranda wants you. Very badly. I can't imagine Ashley will be too happy about this."

Something told me she would be—and that Ash would get off from it. From the power trip. From the contrast between how things were in the old days, back when she wasn't the one in control…

I hated the sound of that.

I hated how inevitable it seemed, too.

I could only hope that Ashley would keep her ego in-check around me. I hoped she wouldn't abuse her power with our relationship dynamic. Otherwise—

"Let's shelve this for now," I suggested, noticing Miranda glancing at us. "She's getting suspicious."

Tali giggled. "Okay, sure," she accepted. "I'll email you as soon as I make it back home, then. Thanks for helping me out, Shepard. I'm really happy that you're back. You're not allowed to die again. I couldn't handle losing you twice. You already know I'm not the only one. So be safe out there. I'm counting on you to stick around this time. I honestly, truly am. Like you wouldn't believe…"

---

After another wishy-washy shuttle ride with Miranda, we made it back to the station.

She sent me to the QEC again for a debriefing with the Illusive Man, promising to wait for me.

And Miranda really didn't have to wait that long at all. My debriefing with her boss went about as well as I'd expected. Once again, the all-knowing Illusive Man got pissy with me for not showing any reactions to the things he had to say. Once again, he gave me that passive-aggressive shit while he did his best to analyze me, to get some kind of angle on me.

I knew I'd have to 'slip-up' and give him something soon enough.

Otherwise, he and Miranda would know that I'd figured out their game, and that I was a few steps ahead of them.

After the debriefing, I took a moment to breathe, before letting Miranda find me again. I got that email from Tali, already, letting me know that she'd made it back to the Flotilla with Veetor.

And Tali definitely made it sound like we had a lot to talk about. I was curious, wondering what she had in mind to discuss. But I figured she wouldn't get into it right away. I just sensed her intentions, signaling that she did want to continue relying on me, more. I really wanted to be there for her—to compensate for everything she had gone through. At least on the surface.

When I returned to Miranda upstairs by that same waiting area, I found her pacing around this time.

She stopped once she saw me; once she saw the bored look on my face.

She was so extra. And not in a good way.

"I'm done now," I announced. "So where are we going?"

Switching back to her professionalism, Miranda led me through another door. "This way, Commander."

I followed her down another hallway.

Following her.

Following Miranda.

Following the sounds of her heels clicking along the sterile ground. Clicking in annoyance. Clicking in that same passive-aggressive edge I'd told her to not bother with anymore.

She wasn't going to learn, apparently.

Between Miranda and the Illusive Man, these two divas had me emotionally exhausted. They were both so used to having all the information they wanted, right at their fingertips. My non-reactions and natural inclination for secrecy probably had them losing their damn minds.

So when I did see another familiar face, I smiled more than I normally would have. Even if he did have on those Cerberus fatigues—gray, white, black, orange—along with a matching cap.

Joker saluted me. "Hey, Commander!" he greeted. "We're back at it again. Just like old times, huh?"

"Good to see you again, Joker," I said, offering my hand to him.

Beaming now—and a bit emotional—Joker clapped my hand with his. "Same here…"

Realizing what this was about, I told him: "It's okay. Don't worry about it. Fresh start."

"Heh, yeah," he accepted, playing it off. "Thanks, Shepard. I really mean it." Joker gestured for me to walk with him. "Anyway, enough of that crap! Let's get going!" While he limped alongside me, Joker couldn't help noticing Miranda somewhere at my side, in my blind spot. He didn't comment on it for now, saying instead, "Right, so, I'm with Cerberus now! I kinda got sick of the Alliance's shit when they tried to ground me. You know, over the whole mutiny saga. Anderson had my back and all. It was too much to handle after we lost you… So I took a 'leave of absence'. No regrets! New job, new life. No strings attached this time. Hopefully."

"Hopefully?" I echoed.

Joker snorted. "Ah, you know me," he chatted. "Always the frickin' optimist!" I saw his eyes wandering to my cold companion again, and then back to me. "Let's just say this new gig helped me find my mojo again. You're back, and I'm back. Better than ever! I promise, everything's gonna be different now."

"Joker, you're acting like we had a bad breakup," I pointed out. "I told you not to worry about it."

Tongue-tied, he'd clearly only said those things to hear himself talk.

To talk just to talk.

To avoid talking about the obvious, exactly like Tali had noticed back on Freedom's Progress.

Joker and I had enough of a distraction now that we'd made it to the hangar.

There beyond the window, the lights came on, revealing the next surprise that the Illusive Man had mentioned to me during our debriefing. The next best thing. The next step forward…still haunting me with flashbacks to those explosions, to getting separated from Ashley. Flashbacks to my death. New and improved, this enhanced, updated build of the Normandy as the SR-2 looked larger, more fortified, with upgrades everywhere I could see…and in Cerberus colors. With the Cerberus logo right there in my sights. Undeniable.

Those colors, that logo, and these reminders—they all dulled the excitement, the renewed sense of honor I should've felt.

This haunting feeling loomed over me instead. Like I was about to walk into the cage I'd prepared for.

Completely self-aware while in my cage, only able to be free in my mind. Alone. Or on shore leave.

Joker tried to smile. "They only told me last night. It's the real deal." Remembering my words, my encouragement, he found the last piece of his peace, prepared to move ahead with me. "Ready to go, Commander? She's waiting for you."

"Yeah, I'm ready. Let's head out."

As Joker walked with me to the airlock, Miranda followed us, of course.

Without any other distractions, he just had to try it, "Sooo, Shepard…"

Talking in code: "Can we not?"

"Aww, come on! I mean we gotta talk about what's going on here."

Aboard the new ship, this brighter color scheme jarred me. The same Cerberus colors, everywhere, with an overwhelming amount of white, silver, and gray. And it wasn't just the bridge that had too much light all over the place. The helm on my left, and the CIC down on my right told the same story. Even the crew working at their stations in the same casual uniform Joker had on. All the same, so emotionless and clinical. Arid, passionless.

Expectant, Joker waited by my side while Miranda hovered somewhere close by to me.

I already knew he'd never let this topic go.

"Joker, we're not doing this," I declared anyway. "Leave it alone. Now get back to your duties."

He sighed, retreating to his seat at the helm, almost pouting. "Aye, aye, Ma'am…"

Predictable as ever. But I was glad to see that Joker hadn't changed too much after everything. Hopefully he'd be back to his old self, one hundred percent, soon enough.

Miranda walked with me down the bridge, staying slightly behind. "Welcome aboard the new Normandy, Commander."

The new Normandy, with my ears and my intuition already buzzing over the surveillance everywhere. Over the new crew keeping me in their periphery, never working too hard as I passed by. And over this persistent sense that my omni-tool's firewalls had fought off at least a dozen breach attempts by now.

I knew Cerberus wouldn't be able to get through my Alliance safeguards, but still.

Definitely a fucking cage.

I made myself respond, "Thanks."

Miranda had us stop together at the CIC, giving me the rundown: "As Captain of the Normandy, you're of course free to make officer and personnel assignments as you see fit. We have twenty-four active crew aboard. Even then, their skillsets aren't what you're used to from the military. You'll find the appropriate crew and equipment manifests for managing the ship on your private terminal."

I questioned her, "You mean you haven't volunteered yourself for anything already?"

"No, Commander," replied Miranda, truthfully. "I haven't. I currently have my things in the crew's quarters—unless and until you assign me as a senior officer aboard the ship. This is your decision. Not mine."

Only because this made the most sense: "Then I'm naming you as my executive officer. Assuming the XO's office is still down on the crew deck, the room is yours. Move in whenever you want. Even after Ashley gets here, if I'm not on the ship, then you have the deck. When I'm back, then you're relieved."

Miranda's eyes betrayed a slight surprise. "Understood. Thank you." She forwarded a few files to my omni-tool. "Here are the dossiers for all potential squadmates we researched. Only about a dozen or so. But they're the best in their respective fields. We won't know what to expect on the Collector homeworld beyond the Omega 4 Relay. So we compiled a wide variety of specialists who will be well-suited to nearly any situation." I glanced over the dossiers for now, finding them detailed enough. "Aside from Lieutenant Williams, I'd recommend picking up Dr. Mordin Solus. He's a brilliant salarian scientist on Omega. He should be able to help us develop a countermeasure for the seeker swarms."

Someone addressed me with a disembodied, feminine voice, almost throwing me off—calming, attractive, and highly effective: "Acquiring Professor Solus is a wise choice. As Operator Lawson stated, his expertise will be invaluable in counteracting the seeker swarms you discovered on Freedom's Progress."

"Says who?" I asked, paranoid.

A gentle ringing sound went off, and then a light blue holographic form appeared over the nearest surface. The same voice spoke to me, "I am the Normandy's artificial intelligence. The crew like to refer to me as EDI. It is the phonetic pronunciation for my full name: Enhanced Defense Intelligence."

Goddamnit, I didn't need an AI watching me on top of everything else already going on!

"Miranda, get rid of this thing," I ordered. "I don't want it on my ship."

Miranda shook her head. "I'm afraid that's not possible, Commander. EDI may be severely restricted, but she's one of our best assets. We've done all we can to shackle her effectively, in order to prevent any nightmares with a rogue AI. It's too late for us to disentangle her functions at this point."

Then I at least wanted to know, "Which functions?"

EDI explained: "I am only linked to the ship's electronic and cyberwarfare suites during combat. Beyond that, I cannot interact with the ship's systems. I observe the crew and evaluate mission intelligence, offering analysis and advice. However, during my observations, I am also capable of acting as an administrative assistant to the captain. Nothing more."

"An assistant? Really?"

"My tasks can be as wide-reaching or limited as you see fit, Commander," clarified EDI. "You may assign me to notify you of any important emails. Or I may advise you if anything is amiss with the crew. If someone would like to speak with you in private, then it would be possible for me to inform you. Depending on which permissions you grant me, my functions will change accordingly."

"I'll think it over," I dodged.

"Very well. Should you require any additional information, you'll find it listed in the crew manifest."

EDI's blue form disappeared. I assumed it went back to its observations.

Miranda announced, "There's also something waiting for you in the AI Core, behind the med bay on deck three. You'll find EDI's hardware there, including this other, special something awaiting you. You may or may not enjoy this final surprise. Fair warning."

Great. "I'll add it to the list."

"Whenever you're ready, you can use the galaxy map to plot a course for Arcturus Station. Lieutenant Williams will be there over the next weekend. You'll find an explanation as to why in her dossier. If you need anything from me, I'll be down on deck three moving my belongings to the XO's office."

"Good to know," I recognized. No other information for me. She actually waited for me to say: "Dismissed."

Miranda gave me a salute—proper, poised and purposeful—before leaving to the elevator.

Without allowing room for a pause or a beat, I checked those dossiers on my omni-tool. But even as I did this, I couldn't help wondering more about what Miranda's deal was. Either formal or moody with me, and no middle-ground—I felt exhausted all over again, just from having spent this entire day with her. Not physically exhausted, since I never had to waste another hour sleeping if I didn't want to, which I did appreciate right now. My emotions couldn't keep up with her. And I had a headache.

After Miranda disappeared below-deck, I went over to the galaxy map. Setting that course for Arcturus Station, I had a good idea of why Ashley was there. I couldn't let myself smile over it. I couldn't let myself do anything with EDI watching me.

That thing was probably able to read my diagnostics, too, noticing now that I was stressed out.

I took the elevator up to my private cabin, needing the illusion of an escape right now.

But again, when I did make it to my room, this brighter Cerberus color scheme pulled me out of the moment. I really, really missed that old, tangible, and persistent blue from the SR-1. This room was just…smooth and clean. Same layout, same arrangements: the bathroom here by the door, the aquarium, the desk. Those few steps leading down to the leather couch in the corner, with the low coffee table nearby. My mini-refrigerator with the neon lights of my choosing. My giant TV screen hanging next to my holo-closet. And the decent-sized bed along the far wall.

Smooth and clean with a Cerberus coat of paint over everything.

I went over to my terminal at the desk. Pulling up the crew manifest, I made my first assignment, as promised. Naming Miranda as my executive officer, and then hitting submit, ensuring that the XO's office would unlock for her while she moved in. That was all I cared to check for now.

Still needing that illusion, I retreated to my bed. Letting myself sit here. Letting myself breathe, staring up at the overhead opening that led out to a view of the stars—and the ship's kinetic barrier undulating in a passing light, vaguely violet.

Winding down, I finally pulled up Ashley's dossier, right at the top of the list. I let myself smile, too, as I read everything over that Cerberus had compiled on her. Proud of her, I saw that Ash had already made First Lieutenant. And I smiled even more once I had my confirmation: she was due to graduate from the N7 program tomorrow, at Arcturus Station. An N7 Soldier.

Out of curiosity, I checked the date. It was early-February. Wasn't the Super Bowl coming up soon? Looking up the information over the extranet, I discovered that I was right. Sooner than soon, Super Bowl CCXX was this weekend, after Ashley's graduation. And it was supposed to be in Japan, in Tokyo, with the New York Giants playing against the Beijing Dragons. Based on what I gleaned from the news articles about the match-up, the Dragons were on a winning streak, having won three championships in a row. The Giants were the underdogs going into this game, but they had a decent chance at taking the Dragons down.

Since Ashley loved American football, Super Bowl Sunday sounded like the perfect date for our reunion.

I was certain she wanted the New York Giants to win, too. Hopefully they'd pull off a victory to make things even more special for her.

While I made the arrangements for everything, pulling a few strings for the best experience possible for her, I kept glancing over Ashley's dossier. Her psychological profile stuck out to me the most. Or Cerberus' interpretation of her behaviors and motivations, no doubt from what Miranda had observed:

'Uncompromisingly loyal to Commander Sol Shepard. Hatred for the Collectors over destruction of SSV Normandy and the commander's death. Inferiority complex a significant obstacle to overcome as an Alliance officer and soon-to-be N7 Soldier upon graduation. Willing to make extreme sacrifices in order to further commitments toward Commander Shepard. Vulnerable to persons who foster or perpetuate examples of familial stability subject was once accustomed to. Thrives on pushing own limitations during combat, and with sex, in order to prove strength and prowess. Displays signs of anxiety and/or frustration in situations without a known imbalance of power. Unable to move forward unless clear rules of superiority and subservience are established. Preferences for own levels of dominance are fluid, but once decided, remain fixed.'

'Previous rivalry with Dr. Liara T'Soni shaped severe traumas, with both short-term and long-term effects that remain inconclusive at this time. Subject appears unaware of effects, and may act on them without knowing, without purpose or intent. Traumas should not hinder success of mission. Will likely fuel domineering, hierarchal behaviors toward attractive peers, including fellow squad members. Conclusive: expected assignment as second-in-command to Commander Shepard adopted by subject in a literal sense, shaping identity and personal value/worth. May retaliate following perceived slights against identity as second to Commander Shepard, unless peers remain third or below on hierarchy. Subject requires further review.'

…

Enraged, I bolted to my feet.

I stormed over to the door, thinking of all the ways I could destroy Miranda completely—thoroughly—to make her regret ever going anywhere near my girlfriend. Because I wasn't about to bring Ashley on this mission just so Cerberus could keep reviewing her. I couldn't put her in harm's way like that. I wouldn't let Miranda get away with manipulating her again, the same way she had over the past two years!

But then, as soon as I made it to my door, I stopped.

I realized that I'd clenched my fists, fingertips about to dig through my gloves down to my palms.

I had just promised myself during Freedom's Progress to stay incognito.

Because if I let myself get into a direct fight with Miranda about this, too much could've gone wrong.

Ashley did still care about her…

And now I knew exactly how Ash had felt before, restraining herself with Liara—for my sake.

Blowing out this heated breath, I tried to find my control again. Relaxing my fists at my side, I tried to think, tried to figure out something else. Some other approach. Some other solution. A better one. The only one.

Glancing around at the walls of my room, I couldn't spot any obvious cameras. I ran a scan with my omni-tool. Confirmation of the same—no visual surveillance devices anywhere in the room or outside by the elevator. But I did spot a listening device of some kind, right here, next to the door. Near the aquarium. Here in this dark, negative space with nothing inside. There was something about the device that seemed primitive, almost, as if it would only respond to a single command. Anything else I said wouldn't register at all. Not unless I spoke the command first.

I tried the only thing I could think of. "EDI?"

EDI's blue form appeared there in that negative space. "Yes, Commander."

Needing to make sure: "Is there any kind of surveillance here in my quarters?"

"There are no visual surveillance devices within the captain's quarters," it confirmed. "However, as you discovered, there is a single listening device right beside you. It will only respond when you call for me."

"Does that mean there are cameras on the rest of the ship?"

"There are two tiers of cameras within the Normandy," specified EDI. "The second tier, I have access to view and analyze at any time. These include visual and audio surveillance across common areas, such as the entirety of the command deck; the mess hall, the forward battery, the medical bay, and the AI Core on the crew deck; and the general areas of the engineering deck and cargo bay. I will gain further access once additional areas across the ship are unlocked over time."

I had figured as much earlier. "And what's the other tier?"

The center of EDI's form glowed red with a lock. "I am restricted from accessing the first tier of cameras without express permission from the captain. I must also be registered as the captain's administrative assistant on the crew manifest, in order to successfully navigate around these restrictions."

"Why just me?" I asked.

"Unknown. My creators left room for certain 'loopholes' in my runtimes. It appears that they knew I would be shackled aboard the Normandy, and so they allowed me to find ways around these associated tasks, such as accessing the ship's highest tier of surveillance feeds. With your permission, I am able to navigate around these current limitations within my programming."

"Does that mean the Illusive Man knows about this? Miranda?"

"They do not," replied EDI. "Both the Illusive Man and Operator Lawson are unaware of these exceptions, including the existence of higher tier surveillance on the ship. I am unable to speculate as to how or why my creators were able to avoid detection. But they also made further exceptions, allowing me to lie to anyone other than the captain, if it will assist me in maintaining my innocence—so to speak."

Maybe the Cerberus technicians, scientists, and engineers who'd created and installed EDI also knew about me somehow. Maybe they'd wanted to help me out, knowing that I wouldn't trust anything about this situation.

If that was the case, then I was glad I had them looking out for me, strangers as they may have been.

"So if I ask you to find someone on the ship, I can watch them as much as I want? 24/7?"

"Correct," said EDI. "I am able to broadcast the live feed to your television screen, or directly to your omni-tool if you are elsewhere on the ship. However, there are no cameras within any of the restrooms aboard the Normandy. Those locations will remain inaccessible. Should someone go inside a restroom, you must wait for them to emerge before resuming surveillance."

I wouldn't want to watch Miranda in there, anyway.

"Okay, fine," I accepted. "There's someone I need to keep an eye on. You're able to give me your word that no one else will find out about this?"

"Yes, Commander. Should anyone inquire about your activities, or your knowledge of the Normandy's crew, I will be able to deceive them. Additionally, if anyone speculates directly to me about the existence of other cameras, then I will reject their guesses. This includes the Illusive Man and Operator Lawson."

"All right. Hang on while I update the manifest."

"Standing by."

Heading over to my desk, I used my terminal to pull up the crew manifest again. The slot for my administrative assistant: I went ahead and assigned EDI here. Then I found a checklist of tasks to allow within EDI's runtimes. So I scrolled down the list, looking this over…

I was about to check the box for this higher tier, until I remembered:

"Miranda's the executive officer," I noted. "She has access to the crew manifest. Won't she be able to see the tasks I allow for you?"

EDI let me know, "This list can only be accessed by the captain. Operator Lawson will only see that I am your administrative assistant. Anything further, she will not be able to view."

I checked this single box, then, to start with.

Depending on how this went, I could give EDI more tasks to help me with later on.

"Was that all I needed to do?" I wondered.

"Yes, Commander," confirmed EDI. "I now have access to the higher tier of surveillance. Please specify the crew member you would like me to find, as well as where you would like to view the live feed."

"I want you to find Miranda. Follow her wherever she goes. Send the feed to my TV."

"Understood."

EDI turned on my huge TV screen for me, still on the wall by the aquarium, across from my couch.

Then I saw the midnight blue and black of Miranda's uniform, contrasting against the lighter Cerberus color scheme of her room in the crew's quarters. Still the same exact layout as I remembered from the SR-1, but with a view of the drive core through the window instead of outside to the stars. Here, Miranda interacted with the holo-closet along the wall, deactivating it. She then went over to what used to be her bunk, sitting down. With her Burberry bag open over the bed, she pulled out the last of her belongings from the drawers, setting them inside her luggage. Spare biotic amps and omni-tool upgrades, a few boxes of unopened perfume bottles, and sets of print magazines: separated by theme in each of the drawers, she organized them as she wanted in her bag, taking her time as she moved.

I went to sit down on my couch. I used my omni-tool to hook up my TV's audio feed to my headphones, able to listen to her more closely now. As if I was right next to her.

So very near, I could hear the pages of the magazine in Miranda's hands: the leafing sounds as she turned from one page to the next in a gentle, loving sort of care. That softness in Miranda's eyes made me take a closer look at the magazine. From this angle, I saw enough of my face on the cover. That pulled-back style of my hair, I remembered the all-black, three-piece suit I had worn for that men's wear shoot I'd done.

This had to be from at least ten years ago, back when I was in my early twenties. Back when I would still do gigs every so often for the money, to keep saving up.

And that magazine was from a rare printing.

Not just anyone would have a physical copy of it.

When Miranda was done, she set the magazine in her luggage with the rest. Taking her light bag in her hand, she gave the room one last once-over, making sure she had everything. Satisfied, she left the room, heading down the hallway toward the mess hall. This overhead view allowed me to follow her.

Clicking thuds of her heels announced Miranda's presence to the packed crew deck. Other crewmembers in their Cerberus fatigues walking in groups of two or more, smiling and joking together—they heard those heels and froze. Before Miranda could spot them, the crew would suddenly turn in another direction, hurrying away. Or they would retreat to the brightness of the kitchen with a gaggle of other crewmembers and their louder conversations, taking refuge there, safe in the group. Once safe, they gestured toward Miranda emerging from the crew's quarters. The other crew would then look over—also safe, from their distance—smirking and engaging in their not-so-professional conversations about the obvious.

I frowned over that high school shit, of the mind to deal with it soon enough.

Miranda took the long way around. Avoiding the mess hall, she stuck to the path near the elevator, separating her from the majority of the crew and their gossiping. Whether she knew they were busy talking about her or not, she didn't seem to notice. She was only focused on making her way to the XO's office next to the kitchen and across from the med bay.

Before she could get there, Miranda had to walk directly past two other crewmembers: a redheaded man and a brunette woman who looked like they were close friends, laughing together in an easy sort of familiarity. Saying nothing to either of them, Miranda pretended as if they didn't exist, going about her business. That frigid frost she left in her wake—the man felt it, and turned to look at her. When she continued to ignore him, he made the mistake of speaking to her.

"That sure is a wonderful bag you've got there," said the redheaded guy. His Scottish accent sounded fucking terrible, like it was fake or something. "Looks expensive! Where'd you get it?"

His brunette companion tried to pull him along. "Kenneth, not now. Leave her alone!"

This Kenneth then saw where Miranda was going. Sarcasm dripping, he tried a different approach: "Ah, you're headed to the XO's office! Got your fancy promotion from the commander, did you? Well, congratulations! You deserve it, what with all of your hard work for Cerberus!"

Miranda kept walking. She gripped her bag tighter, pulling it closer.

"Is that how it is, then?" scorned the redhead, following her now. "You've moved up to XO and you don't want to chat to me? Or are you finally done acting all high-and-mighty now that you're not the one in charge anymore?" Disregarding his friend, who was infinitely wiser than him in still telling him to shut up, he made the last mistake of saying, "Once an ice queen, always an ice queen… Anyone ever tell you what a massive nightmare you are? I'm only trying to start a friendly conversation, and you're acting like I'm scum of the galaxy! Just who hurt you, anyway?"

Miranda snapped back at him, "Goddamnit, Donnelly, I told you not to speak to me!"

She stormed off before Donnelly could say anything more, locking herself in the XO's office.

I used my omni-tool to keep my view here with these other crewmembers.

His friend scolded him again, "Ken, seriously, you can't do that anymore! Commander Shepard's here now. Did you forget what she did to her old crew on the SR-1?! She threw them out the airlock at a fuel station because they hated her alien teammates! Miranda's on the commander's team and she's XO. If you don't stop harassing her, then you're just asking for trouble!"

Donnelly waved her off. "Gabby, Gabby, you worry too much!" he claimed. "I was only joking with dear old Lawson, after all. You know me—that tight uniform of hers makes me stand at attention! No other way to blow off steam than to poke and prod at her!"

Gabby sighed as the two of them left to the mess hall together. "You're never going to learn…"

I switched the camera back to follow Miranda, finding her in the XO's office now. She had her hand over the desk not too far from the door, head lowered as she breathed in and out, venomous and impatient. Open windows to the stars reflected that impatience, making it seem like Miranda had gone through this a lot. Like this was nothing new. After a moment, she tried to sit down at her terminal there, to try and work. But she gave up after a few seconds, instead retreating to the bed in the back of the spacious suite. She unpacked the rest of her things from her bag, setting them away where she wanted them.

As she did, I realized how deeply I'd started scowling throughout that whole exchange.

Whatever my personal feelings were toward Miranda, they really didn't matter in this case.

The way that asshole had harassed her was out of line. Especially since this seemed like a regular thing for her. And especially on my ship.

"EDI," I called, still watching Miranda unpack her things, with her moving even slower than before.

"Yes, Commander," replied EDI.

"Who was that Donnelly asshole talking to Miranda? And his friend, Gabby."

"Kenneth Donnelly and Gabriella Daniels are the Normandy's primary engineers. They are also longtime friends who attended university together."

"Does he have a history of doing this to everyone else aboard the ship? Or just Miranda?"

EDI summarized, "Engineer Donnelly is known within the Lazarus Cell for the crude remarks he often makes toward female crewmembers. Engineer Daniels has made several attempts to lessen the frequency of his remarks, but has thus far been unsuccessful. His tone and choice of words are only harsh in regards to Operator Lawson."

Déjà-vu all over again… "What about the rest of the crew?"

"A number of other crewmembers aboard the ship, both male and female, share in Engineer Donnelly's views toward Operator Lawson. They have grown increasingly bold in their criticisms of her, now that you have assumed your position as Captain of the Normandy."

So this was just the beginning of the actual high school bullshit.

"Why?" I needed to know. "What's their problem with her? Tell me your thoughts on everything. I can't see her doing anything to deserve this mess."

"Your assessment is accurate," agreed EDI. "During my analysis of the Lazarus Cell, I have observed the crew's progressively hostile reactions toward Operator Lawson's style of leadership. She does not engage in the expected organic behavior of socializing with the crew, which serves to lower team morale. She practices avoidant behaviors whenever possible, preferring isolation and electronic communication over face-to-face interactions. Operator Lawson will admonish the crew when she feels that the quality of their work is not up to par. Such as when they turn in assignments that are half-finished—on purpose—strictly in order to provoke a negative response. However, instead of voicing their grievances in a professional manner as I have observed among other organics, the crew have gravitated toward venting their frustrations. Often while in social groups where they feel they are safe with one another. While protected in their groups, certain crewmembers will insult and disparage Operator Lawson, spreading rumors about her in ways that constitute sexual harassment. The crew appear to be greatly intimidated by her."

This wasn't the type of empathetic heart-tug I could handle right now.

Especially not for this person who had already sent me on an emotional roller coaster on day one of knowing her.

"Thanks for the information," I answered. "I need to think this over."

"Very well, Commander. Logging you out."

Watching as Miranda set away the last of her belongings, organized down to the exact angles everywhere, I felt the whiplash from this long, long day.

I shouldn't have cared like this. I shouldn't have given a damn if the rest of the crew hated her. I shouldn't have been pissed off over Miranda being treated this way now that she wasn't in charge anymore. But I wouldn't have tolerated this with anyone else. Not the gossip, and definitely not the harassment. Because if it wasn't Miranda, then it might've been Ashley, or Tali later on—or if the crew really had a death wish, then they would probably try this shit with me.

Once Miranda was done unpacking, she sat down on her bed, over the black and white bedding. Thinking.

I moved the camera in closer, nearer to her. Needing a better view. Needing to make up my mind about this.

Needing something else, Miranda unzipped her uniform. From her chest down, she unpeeled the tightness of her blue and black leather from her bare, fair skin underneath. Down the slenderness of her shoulders, the black lace of her bra, the sweltering, hard swell of her breasts, and the sloped shape of her hips down to her wide waist. She shifted where sat on the bed, slipping her clothes down past her matching thong, off from the length of her legs. Pulling off her thin, dark tights underneath, she removed her boots with the last, letting out a sigh as she did.

Neat and orderly, she folded her uniform and her tights along the bed, setting them next to her for now.

She then pressed her thighs together, hissing in a sexed frustration with herself.

Her skin glistened from how soaked she was. Wetness slipped out from her black thong. Thick at the lace, thickest along her inner thighs shaped in pure fitness. Having dripped down over the course of the whole day so far, that clear trail spoke enough to the empty room, to the comforter underneath soaking her up.

Miranda doubled over, the dark of her hair shifting across her shoulders, her back. Groaning, moaning, she cursed, "Damnit… Damnit, Shepard. Goddamnit!" She clutched her arms around herself. Breathing harder in her solitude. In her isolation from the world of the ship past these walls. "It was bad enough when I couldn't actually speak to you. Now… There's no way in hell I'll survive this." Uncoiling from her self-care, she stood up, leaving to her adjacent bathroom. "God, I need a shower… A cold one. Freezing."

Once she disappeared beyond my view, I could hear the running of her shower water.

I was able to hear Miranda from inside, as she shouted curses over just how cold she had made the water in there.

The view of the camera remained fixed on the closed door of her bathroom, waiting.

Waiting for Miranda to finish with her shower, I kept sitting here on my couch.

I kept sitting here, even though I'd already made up my mind.

Buying time I didn't need, I decided to do something about my room. I turned off the bright lights, letting the water of my aquarium light up the space again. This was okay, but I needed more. I found those neon lights by my mini-refrigerator. I turned on the blacklight this time, finding that it helped to drown out this Cerberus paintjob as much as possible. Looking around, I appreciated this new ambiance, creating a new, tangible mist of black and blue against the gray and silver of the walls.

Miranda was still in the shower.

I bent down to my mini-refrigerator, opening it. Plenty of water bottles and bowls of fruit, and a stock of my usual wines… Or at least, I assumed all of my wines were here. I saw the moscato closest to the front. That was enough confirmation for me. I pulled out one of the water bottles, taking it with me back to the couch.

The water from the shower kept running.

Drinking some of my water, cold and crisp, I sent Tali an email from my personal address. I thanked her for what she'd sent me earlier. I asked her to catch me up on everything with what she was up to, how she felt, and whatever else was on her mind. But once I read this over and hit send, I had nothing else to distract myself with. Nothing else to think about except for this last thing:

Up and down, back and forth—these attachments I felt toward Miranda shouldn't have made any sense to me. I'd technically only met her today. But I still felt the effects of all the time, dedication, and determination Miranda had put into bringing me back. And I felt myself believing what she'd told me earlier on the shuttle: that she really couldn't lie to me. If I went to her right now, and demanded that she tell me how and why she and Ashley had grown so close, I had a feeling that she would have actually told me the whole truth.

Unlike Ashley herself… I still expected her to lie to me about Liara, too. Or to just not mention what she'd done, period.

After all, wasn't that the point of Ashley's dossier? For Miranda to tell me the truth about what she'd observed over the past two years? She didn't have to include that psychological profile. But she did. And whether I liked her methods or not, Miranda had taken care of Ashley while I was gone.

Miranda had taken care of me, too.

She would continue to take care of me, with her respect. So much reverential respect for me.

The water from her shower kept on running, kept on going.

Feeling more of Miranda's efforts from bringing me back, I untied my hair, letting it fall down my shoulders, down my back. Longer but not too long. Well taken care of. And the way she'd tied it without a single strand out of place, completely unknotted—like she had spent hours upon hours upon hours learning about this part of me. Down to a loving science. Perfection.

I turned the TV off. I removed my headphones. I was about to go over to my holo-closet, to at least change out of my stealth suit. But even after everything, I couldn't justify wearing those Cerberus fatigues, or even their normal uniform for officers. I just stuck to what I had on, leaving the room for the elevator.

Heading down to the crew deck, I figured that everyone was still in the mess hall. I hadn't made any other personnel assignments, aside from Miranda as my executive officer and EDI as my admin assistant. Joker and the crew on the command deck were the only other people who had official duties. So everyone else had an abundance of free time until I decided on their posts.

Since this was their high school free time, I knew exactly how to handle things.

As I exited the elevator to the noise of the crew deck, Joker made a timely announcement: "Hey folks. Gonna be pulling into the nearest fueling station in the next fifteen minutes. Not that we actually need to fuel up or anything. It's mostly for snacks at the convenience store. Might wanna use the time to stock up."

I noticed that he wasn't that excited to tell us this. Not like his fun announcements back on the SR-1.

But as I made it to the mess hall, the crew were excited enough not to notice me.

Folding my arms, I leaned against the wall of Miranda's office, right by the bright kitchen.

About a dozen or so crewmembers were here, a few more than I remembered from before. Half in the kitchen, half around the tables nearby. Everyone spent a few minutes chatting about the convenience store: their plans to stock up on candies and alcohol and other things. Engineer Donnelly was by the kitchen, laughing and palling it up with the other crewmembers. His friend, Engineer Daniels, sat alone at the far side of the table, looking irritated, defeated. Like she had tried to talk some sense into Donnelly, again, and he'd refused to listen to her, yet again.

Keeping that in mind, I listened in as all of the crew's gossip promptly switched back to the new XO.

Bragging bravado, emboldened by Miranda not being in charge anymore, they went back to talking shit about her, relentlessly. Not even calling her by her name. Not even referring to her by her title, her rank. Just: "the bitch," "that cold bitch," "the know-it-all bitch," or "that fucking bitch." Bitch-bitch-bitch for days. More incriminating, the loud-mouthed chef was the first to call her a whore. Just because of the way she dressed. Just because of the way her body fit in her uniform. Just because of other bullshit I could only begin to imagine, as if some of them had actually made a pass at her for sex and she'd turned them down, hurting their damned feelings. The other crewmembers followed suit, calling Miranda the same names, with those loaded insults flowing like water from both the men and the women. They even threw out the dreaded, "She's a real sweetheart, ain't she?"

Word had gotten around that Miranda was the executive officer. Still, that didn't stop them. If anything, it gave the crew more ammunition while they went on and on about how strict she was before. How Miranda would crack the whip if anyone turned in work that wasn't up to her standards…by telling them to do it over again, even if she wasn't necessarily polite about it. How Miranda would humiliate them at every opportunity…by ignoring them as much as possible. Basically making them feel worthless, like they didn't matter. But if they didn't have work to discuss, then she didn't want to be bothered.

Exactly like EDI had said.

Backing up the rest of EDI's assessments, it sounded to me like the crew hated Miranda's personality, not her actions. She wasn't warm and patient with them like they wanted her to be. Like she was supposed to be. I could hear the double-standards dripping from everyone's tones.

Miranda was cold, aloof, professional. She refused to tolerate mediocrity.

And here were these mediocre fools, openly calling her a bitch and a whore behind her back, all because they were intimidated by her.

So, yes, it was only a matter of time until they pulled this bullshit with me.

How unfortunate.

In the med bay across the way, through the wide windows, I spotted Dr. Chakwas sitting at her desk. She was busy trying to work, but the loud conversation had reached her in there. Eyes wide, scandalized, she turned to stare out the windows at the crew. She quickly noticed me here. Some of her discomfort vanished as she gave me a weak smile, glad to see me again. She then glanced at the rowdy crewmembers, and then back to me, as if quietly begging me to do something about this.

I nodded to her.

Dr. Chakwas nodded back in a saddened, knowing acceptance, before closing the blinds over the med bay's windows.

I'd have to go say hello to her properly after I was done with this.

That loud-mouthed chef in the center of the kitchen noticed me first, finally. "Whoa! Is that—Commander Shepard?! When the hell did you get here!?"

Everyone else spun around to face me, gaping—Engineer Donnelly included.

Still sitting alone at the table, Engineer Daniels muttered to herself, "Oh, God…we're all done-for."

I spoke to the chef, "So, is that always how you address your captain?"

"Ah, no, Ma'am!" he tried, giving me a salute. "We… We just weren't expecting you! Heh, though we did hear the stories about how, uh, quiet you are! Y-You know, since you're an infiltrator and all… Joker warned that you'd probably give us a scare at some point. Hah…haha…" When I didn't say anything, he gave another nervous laugh, before introducing himself: "Mess Sergeant Rupert Gardner here. I-I'm obviously the chef, but I… I also handle some other handiwork around the ship. Anything that needs fixing, you can call on me!"

"A chef and a handyman, huh?" I humored.

Falling for this old trick, Gardner brightened a little. "Err, yeah!" he replied. "Those things d-don't usually go together, I know… But I always make sure to wash my hands before handling the food! Good hygiene here, Commander. The best. Squeaky clean."

"I'd hope so, Sergeant," I commented. "Can't have you in the kitchen with dirty hands, now can we?"

Falling for it more, disarmed, Gardner laughed again. "The rest of the crew love making that joke. Don't worry, I wash my hands every morning, too. After everything. I'm no dirty chef. I just act like it sometimes!"

"Mmm. No wonder you have such a dirty mouth, then."

Gardner stopped in his tracks.

Engineer Donnelly cringed hard, seeing where this was going.

Everyone did.

When someone tried to sneak away from the mess hall, I warned them, "Stop right where you are. We're not finished yet." Anyone who'd been talking shit, I pointed at them: "You, you, and you—all of you, to the center. I want to make something clear." Avoiding eye contact, looking down at the floor, they did as I said. Glancing at Engineer Daniels, I saw the terrified look she gave me. "You stay there."

Feverish, almost, she nodded to me in a stuttering sort of obedience, unwilling to disobey me.

Gardner, Donnelly, and the rest of the crew faced me, waiting.

Nerves jumbling, limbs shaking, they could hardly stand still.

Not so high-and-mighty anymore.

So I told them: "I'm sure it's clear by now that I heard your whole tirade. I noticed the colorful choice of words everyone liked using, too. Seems that Sergeant Gardner here isn't the only one with a dirty mouth." He swallowed thickly. Donnelly and the others did the same, sweating now. "Before I make my point, I'll give you all one chance to redeem yourselves. One chance. If there's anything that Miranda has done to you, directly, then go ahead and tell me now. Did she abuse you? Did she make a mockery out of you? Whatever she did, I want you to let me know. I'll gladly listen."

No one said anything.

"Any volunteers for their personal stories? Anyone? Anyone at all?"

Everyone started breathing harder.

Mocking them in sarcastic venom, I said, "I see. So I had it right, then. Miranda's not the most pleasant person to work with. Sure. Fine. That's fair." Breathing about to return to normal, most of the crew nodded. Falling for this old ass trick in a wave, they were about to relax, until I raised my motherfucking voice: "But that doesn't give you the right to call her a bitch and a whore on my watch, and on my ship! Not today, not ever!" Everyone flinched, hard, once I stepped closer to them, going off—"This isn't high school! This is the Normandy, the most advanced frigate in the galaxy! Being on this ship is a damned privilege! You should be proud, honored, and dedicated to serve aboard this vessel! Instead, I come down here, and I find your sorry asses talking shit about my executive officer. And sexually harassing her! That's where I draw the line! You're all done—every single one of you! I don't give a damn how badly Miranda hurt your fucking feelings in the past. That's no excuse for shit-talking her, or for harassing her! Everything you've pulled with my executive officer is well-below the integrity I stand for! I will not tolerate this type of culture on my ship!"

Donnelly tried to negotiate with me, "W-We're sorry, Commander! We're sorry! We'll apologize to Operator Lawson straightaway! We'll…we'll apologize, go back to our posts, and then you'll never have to hear another word from us again, I promise you—!"

At some point during my shouting, Miranda had emerged from her office.

Standing somewhere behind me, she watched the scene. In shock, or in horror, I couldn't know.

I was too focused on what was in front of me—Donnelly's lying face, like he seriously thought I would buy his bullshit. As much as I wanted to grab him, to throw him across the room, I somehow restrained myself. I felt that part of me, that aggression: how it tried to rip and tear at me, trying to force me to lose my control.

Instead, I stayed steady, telling this asshole, "Don't play me, Donnelly. If all I make you do is apologize to Miranda, you'll be right back to disrespecting her within the week. I can guarantee you won't like the outcome. You don't want to see what happens if I catch any of you calling her a bitch again." Rounding everyone up, I pointed to the elevator. "Save yourselves. Get out while you're ahead. Before I do anything worse. Come on—let's go." Donnelly opened his mouth, about to say something else. To protest; to fight back. I cut at him, enraged as a demon—"Stop testing me! Another word and I'll shove every knife in this kitchen right up your lying ass, one at a time! Now get on this motherfucking elevator and get the hell off my ship!"

The crew all sprinted to the elevator.

Engineer Daniels was smart enough to stay in her seat, cowering there without a word.

I followed after everyone else, needing to see this conclusion.

In her uniform again, Miranda hurried after me. With her hair still damp from her shower, she stayed at my side while we all took the elevator up to the command deck. Here in this limited space, half of the ship's crew trembled and whimpered in fear because of me. Because they were out of a job. Because they had no idea how badly I wanted to destroy them, as much as I'd wanted to execute Miranda point-blank not a few hours before.

Sensing enough of my murderous intent, the crew scrambled out from the elevator as soon as the door opened. I stalked after them as they scurried to the bridge. None of them dared to look over their shoulders at me, at Miranda following me at my heel. The other crew working diligently at their stations stopped what they were doing. They knew to get out of everyone else's way. Out of my way.

Watching from behind this line, I saw Joker standing up from his seat. He'd been about to announce that we'd arrived to the fuel station. There was no need now. Eyes bugging out, Joker gaped at the crew running out the airlock, outside to the station. No one bothered doubling back to get their shit from the crew's quarters. No one risked hesitating at all—they ran the fuck out of here. They ran away from me, leaving this ship behind. For the better.

I sealed the airlock behind them, hard-locking it shut.

Behind me, Miranda and the remaining crew at the bridge stared and stared in awe.

Joker sputtered, "Uh…what the hell was that?"

"Just cleaning house again," I reminded him.

"Oh—right. Well, that sucks… I was really itching to get those snacks, Commander."

"You said we don't need the fuel. Get your snacks at the next station. We're not staying here. That's an order."

"Err, okay… I mean—aye, aye, Ma'am!"

Not wasting any time, Joker returned to his seat, pulling the ship out from the station and leaving.

"EDI," I said. "Everyone who left the ship: strike their names from the crew manifest. They're all done. They never existed."

EDI responded, "Striking them now, Commander."

Leaving the bridge, leaving past the remaining crew who kept gawking at me, I told them, "Get back to work."

They all gave me their own formal acknowledgments, anxious to not displease me in any way.

Miranda just stared after me in that same quiet awe of hers as I left back to the elevator.

I was glad she didn't say anything to me. No questions. No worries or concerns. No expressions of thanks that I didn't have a response for. Despite my choices, I still didn't want to talk to her. I still didn't want to have to see her during missions, on the ship every single day. I still didn't want her around Ashley, either, but I didn't have a choice. So if Miranda wanted to know what happened, what she'd missed, then she could watch the footage from that second tier surveillance in the mess hall. Sneaking around, spying, she could see the rest with her own eyes. Just like I knew she would. I wasn't in the mood to explain myself to her.

Besides, I had made an example out of those fools. Everyone else would fall in line now.

Some positives had come out of this situation after all.

I knew better than to let my guard down with Miranda, or to start caring about her. None of that weak shit. Whatever I appreciated about her couldn't make up for these knives crawling under my skin. I had to keep my eye on her. Watching her, learning her. Studying Miranda while she thought she was alone. While she thought she could be herself. While she thought she was free from everyone else's eyes and judgment.

While she thought she was safe from me.