"Miranda" from Mass Effect 2 / "Final Conversation" from Mass Effect 2: Overlord

LXIV. A Clockwork Orange

(Liara)

Dreams in Insomnia, so magical, so wonderful. Dreaming of the captain, being with her. Dreaming of her finding me in my room again, taking me again. Dreams and dreams, my every dream come true, yet only briefly. Only for the handful of hours during my nap as I dreamed. My dreams merely shattered back to reality once I awoke. I awoke in bed, wearing only the black of my oversized N7 shirt. And I sat up in bed, pulling my legs to my chest. I settled my face over the cotton of my shirt, awash in those memories. The illusions, the mirages, and the lies. The delusions I dreamt up as my only security, my one true comfort.

Still, despite how depressing this seemed…I had gotten used to things. My routine gave me structure. My structure gave me hope. And my hope gave me the will to continue on. Although I knew I hadn't found this hope within myself. I had found it from my friends—and especially from our commander. Maybe that was shameful. Maybe I should have been able to find this on my own. Yet I had decided to stop fretting over it: that invisible, deadly shame of mine. No one else needed to know this about me.

Focusing instead on the positives—I had woken up refreshed after my nap. Stretching a bit, I checked the time. We wouldn't arrive to Aite in the Typhon System for quite a while longer. If I really wanted to, I could have gone back to sleep. I felt that powerful temptation…until I heard a soft knock at my door.

So very soft, as if the person didn't mean to wake me.

They only wished for me to answer if I was already awake.

Tali tended to do this rather often. Sometimes she would wake up in the middle of the night, wanting to share her thoughts or worries with me. She expected me to only have on this oversized shirt of mine, and so I saw no need to get dressed. I went to answer the door, wondering what could've been on her mind this time. We'd had quite the interesting chat over drinks at Dark Goddess, discussing our usual haunts. Our usual feelings. Our usual struggles and subsequent determination these days. Perhaps Tali wished to continue our earlier talk. We had unfortunately gotten interrupted by all the commotion.

I opened the door, making my easy assumptions: "Tali, was there something you—?"

Yet I froze in place once I saw who this really was.

The absolute last person I would've expected.

Here was Shepard standing before me in the sleepy, darkened hallway of the crew's quarters. The blues and golds of her Alliance uniform shined a faint light over her. In that light, I found such a gentle compassion about her. She knew I hadn't expected her. She knew she'd probably end up frightening me—and she did. My hand darted to my chest, barely containing my sharpened inhales, heart pounding.

"Shepard?!"

I suddenly remembered what few clothes I had on. Just this single shirt pooling down to my thighs. This black shirt hid away how my body had reacted to my dreams. But those keen senses of hers—I knew Shepard could smell me anyway. Because I wore nothing else underneath. Nothing whatsoever.

Shepard spotted my reddened face and quickly turned around.

"Sorry, Liara… If now's not a good time, I'll understand. I wasn't sure if you were up or not."

"Yes, I could tell by the way you knocked," I spoke to her back. "You are very considerate, Shepard." Whatever she wished to discuss, I spotted the urgency in her aura. How this couldn't wait another minute. "Please come in. I hope you don't mind if I lock the door behind you. I don't want anyone else wandering in by accident. There were a few drunkards stumbling down the hall before I went to bed."

"That's fine."

Rather comical, Shepard remained facing away as she stepped inside my room. Then she waited off to the side. Perhaps she glanced out the window without turning her head too much. Or maybe she fixated on the equipment I had running in a corner in her view. I had darkened the faint blue glowing from my computer, enough for me to sleep earlier. That faintness had given way to this calming sense between us now. Except now that I'd gotten used to her presence, Shepard was the exact opposite. She appeared somewhat clueless on how to hold herself, where to stand. Even if I couldn't see her face, I knew.

Shepard certainly took the time to look at my computer, the evidence of my studies there.

"Were you…working on something?" she asked. "Earlier, I mean. Is this another project of yours?"

"Yes, actually," I supplied. "I was just going over the notes I took on Kahje. You'll remember I explored the Prothean ruins there with Tali and the others. That is where we discovered the keys to the Alliance's Archives on Mars. I am writing a brief paper on my findings." Narrowing her eyes at the screen, Shepard saw for herself that my paper was anything but brief… "Whenever we are able to visit Mars, I would like to include any additional discoveries we stumble upon. I imagine there is a treasure trove of information on the Protheans, all under the care of your military. I can't wait to take a look for myself sometime. Painstakingly combing through the Archives sounds much more productive than asking Javik for his firsthand knowledge… Even though he is a Prothean himself, he has not been very forthcoming."

"Yeah, I know. Javik's not the easiest to talk to about these things. He likes to keep that wall up."

"He does. That sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

Realizing I had a point, she didn't quite know what to say.

So I held her hand, leading Shepard over to my couch. The couch across from my bed, right beneath one of the windows. Still facing away, she waited for me to sit down first. Once Shepard heard me settling over this leather, pressing my legs together, she then took her turn. Except she still wouldn't look at me.

I laughed softly. "Shepard, you are allowed to face me now. Don't you think you're being a little silly?"

Shepard chose to align herself perfectly with the couch. Her back pressed over the cushion. The backs of her shoes pressed against the bottom. Facing forward only. Even as I had angled myself toward her, facing her, she would not make eye contact. This stoic, straight-laced shyness of hers did make me smile.

"I guess so," she agreed, letting out a deep breath; loosening up a little. "Sorry. This isn't like me."

"Maybe, maybe not. Now I'm curious. What is on your mind? What inspired the urgency of your visit?"

Shepard explained, "I'd already planned on having this talk with you. At some point. Ideally once we left Thessia. We ended up leaving sooner than expected. I'm not quite mentally prepared for this conversation. And I was going to put it off for a while longer. But I decided to take a nap after all the drama from earlier. I had a dream about you. Could've been a sign telling me I needed to talk to you."

"You had…a dream about me? Did you, really?"

"It surprised me, too."

I felt my heartbeats nearly rising to my throat, trembling my words—"What did you see in your dream?"

"The thing is, I only remember a few seconds. The rest slipped away from me as soon as I woke up. You were pretty far away from me at first. I couldn't see you anywhere. I felt you calling out for me, somehow. When I found you, I pulled you into my arms. Then I held you for a long time. I don't remember anything else. Doesn't seem like a big deal, I know. I don't think this was just a coincidence."

"What a pleasant dream," I said with a smile. "You truly believe this isn't a mere coincidence? How so?"

"It's more of a nudge for me to ask you a favor. Now or never."

I wasn't sure if Shepard meant to promote me today. Here and now, of all times, of all places. I sensed her intentions, practical as always. The way she worded herself had simply taken me by surprise. I had imagined this conversation as a much more serious one. Yet Shepard had instead chosen to lend her emotions to the moment. After all of our struggles, she had actually decided to stop fighting against me.

"Liara, I want you to be our executive officer. And my second-in-command. We've had our ups and downs. At the end of the day, I'm confident that the team trusts you. If I can't lead them for some reason, then I trust you to replace me. Your compassion is something I sorely need at my side. But I also don't want this to wait until we ditch Cerberus. I'm asking you to step up today. Right this very second."

"Right now? Really?!"

"Yes. Right now."

Even knowing of Shepard's intentions ahead of time, I had still remained unsure. I had fought and fought for this moment. For this recognition. For my captain to at last reward me for my dedication, despite the many hurdles we had faced with one another. After years of watching Shepard reward other people, she had finally given me these coveted titles. Her executive officer, I had expected, hoped for. Yet her second-in-command as well? I hadn't seen that coming at all. What an uplifting, yet terrifying surprise!

But as for the finer details of the process…

"Shepard, I am honored that you've chosen me. Please forgive me if I seem…rather shocked by your timing. Is this only because of the dream you had? Or is there something more behind your decision?"

"I have a few reasons, actually," explained Shepard. "First off, let me get this out of the way. I know you don't consider yourself much of a leader. Maybe you worry about your emotions getting in the way at some point. I've taken all of that into consideration. What matters most to me is how you bounce back from something serious. You're incredibly resilient, Liara. Your quiet strength is important to me. I also appreciate how well you know me. How you can easily figure out what I would've done in any situation and carry it out. I don't know how I know this—but I think we need your strengths now more than ever."

I couldn't help smiling over her praise, so matter-of-fact. "I am moved by your assessments. Truly. If anything, I assumed you would choose Aria for such a role. She is more of a natural leader, is she not?"

Shepard fought not to grimace. "Aria's not as…personable as you are. She's better suited elsewhere."

"Then what did you have in mind for her instead?"

"Well, I should explain first. I had EDI create a separate crew manifest for us. You could say these are 'secret' assignments. In case of emergency only. I don't want to tip off Miranda or the Illusive Man. I don't want them to know what I know about them, about Cerberus. Long story short, I realized we seriously can't trust them. The second this mission is over, I'm getting us the hell out of here. This separate crew manifest is only for emergencies, like I said. It gives me some peace of mind, that's all."

"Yes, I see… So you would list me as the executive officer on this emergency crew manifest?"

"That's right. The only exception is with Aria. If I'm not around, then she's captain of the ship. I haven't told her this myself. It'll be up to you or EDI to announce Aria's authority to Miranda—if it ever comes to that."

"Of course. I can safely assume you don't want us to take this path. Not unless absolutely necessary."

"Pretty much," she agreed. "I really don't want Miranda to know about this. If you need to say something, it should be as a last resort. I trust you to use your discretion. As of right now, EDI is the only other person who knows. We'll wait to make things official once we return to the Alliance. By then, you'll have the XO's office on the crew deck. I'll make sure they port this room's layout during the ship's retrofits."

"That is thoughtful of you, Shepard. Thank you. I would very much appreciate this for our next mission. This room has grown to be quite comfortable for me. I am looking forward to returning to the Alliance."

"So…does that mean you accept?"

I smiled over her consideration. "Yes, Commander. I accept. There is no greater honor for me. I have spent such a long time supporting you… I never allowed myself to imagine I could be more for you. Not until recently. But I wasn't sure if you would set our differences aside for something like this. I figured you would want your XO and second-in-command to be…someone else. Someone with a clean slate."

"Liara, we've been through a lot together. You're still here. That's what I'm focused on. I know I was a lot more pessimistic before. After our talk the other day, I've really thought things over. Being so close to the end, it's made me reconsider my priorities. There's one last reason why I chose you for this."

"Then please tell me. I would love to know."

Lowering her head in thoughtfulness, Shepard paused. She considered, again. She wondered how to word herself. She paused and considered and wondered, even as she changed before my eyes. I reached for her hands, holding hers in both of mine, as tightly as I could. I needed her to know she wasn't alone.

When she looked at me again, pure sincerity radiated from her stare.

"This isn't about the mission itself anymore. Who's the strongest leader. Who can get the job done. You have the one thing I lack, Liara. You're not afraid to show your emotions. You can take care of the team in ways I can't. In ways that I would never allow for myself, just because of my pride. Just because I insist on keeping this distance from everyone else. But as the mission's gone on, I can see the writing on the wall. Going forward, my style of leadership might not be enough. I feel like we're going to lose some of the team soon…and it'll be my fault. For not being there. Not listening. Not being present with them."

"Shepard…"

"Aria's weaknesses are too similar to mine. That's ultimately why I didn't choose her for this. In choosing you, I'm signaling a new direction for us. I can never tell our team how I feel. I can never say that I love them, how much they mean to me… Having you as my second is the only way I can communicate that."

Overwhelmed with joy, I brought her hands to my lap. "Commander, I completely understand what you mean. Thank you for being so honest about your feelings. You can trust me to bring that new direction."

We stayed in a comfortable silence for a while, this understanding simmering and seasoning with us. I fully respected her decisions, her thought process. Her reasoning in choosing me spoke so much of her character. Shepard wished for me to make up for her own perceived weaknesses. That she could even admit as much—it showed just how courageous she was, despite this shame sneaking through to her expression. But as I continued to smile, Shepard accepted the bravery of her choices. I could certainly concede to Aria as the Normandy's secondary captain. In those dire situations, I believed we could count on Aria's firm hand to lead us forward. She would provide that continuation of Shepard's pragmatism.

No matter the troubles ahead, I remained optimistic that we would see this through.

We later reached the planet Aite, nestled within the Typhon System on the edge of the Phoenix Massing cluster. After gearing up in the armory, our group—Shepard, Aria, Miranda, and myself—gathered onto the M-44 Hammerhead together, taking the vehicle down to this unknown world. Outside the vehicle's window, I spotted what appeared to be an Earth-like world, filled with jungles beneath two gorgeous moons, both visible right at dawn. Sparsely-populated for a garden world, the citizens across the colony had largely been left to fend for themselves: fighting over resources, fending off aggressive mechs and wildlife, and generally suffering under the callousness of militia groups and corporations. Cerberus had taken the largest share of the planet's land and resources, populating the uncharted paradise with its many labs and research stations. With an unstable moon due to collide with the planet in the next two hundred years, and very few neighbors to speak of, Aite seemed like the perfect place to quietly conduct experiments for Project Overlord. But of course, Cerberus' own follies had dispelled that quiet illusion.

More than merely dispelling it—our vehicle crossed over the colony's capital, Andrasteia, home to only one million citizens. Much of the capital had turned into a war zone, with smoking craters darkening the terrain, and collapsed buildings leveling the fauna-heavy city into ruin. Larger and much more terrifying, I saw that ruin reflected in Miranda's eyes as she stared out to the destruction. She had placed her gloved hand against the surface, balancing herself there. Taking in the vastness of cruelty behind what Cerberus had done—unintentional or otherwise. The same vast cruelties I had warned her Cerberus was capable of. All during a terrible argument we'd had weeks ago, culminating in Miranda shouting at me to get out of her office. I had tried to warn her of the dangers of siding with Cerberus over the commander. I had tried to dissuade Miranda against her current path. Yet she had chosen to isolate herself from me, as my supposed just reward. She had kept me as a fine friend before. In reality, I had been a variable she could control. And she'd controlled me. She'd had my misplaced loyalty. She'd taken me for a fool.

Regarding Miranda now, I could no longer hold onto my anger with her. Not in the same ways.

Things between us would never be as they once were. Not unless and until she chose to leave Cerberus. Still, that was no reason to treat her with hostility. Miranda had made her choices, and I had made mine. I chose to respect her decisions—however harsh and misguided—instead of wasting my energy despising her.

After we passed the wreckage of the capital, Aria chose to speak up:

"Interesting," she noted, reading from her omni-tool. "I decided to research this colony to pass the time. Aite is apparently from your Greek mythology. She's the goddess of delusion and folly, often leading men into ruination. Doesn't that sound oddly familiar? Cerberus can't be that self-aware, can they?"

Miranda remained coldly silent.

Shepard hummed in thoughtfulness, her thoughts elsewhere.

Not wanting Aria to go ignored, I commented, "I doubt Cerberus believes they are capable of being led into ruination. Like many in power, they think they are above such things. Perhaps they chose this colony in order to spite those historical meanings. I cannot imagine their choice was a self-aware one."

"True," agreed Aria. "If I were them, I'd want to do the same. It's only natural. Then again, this whole extranet-wide virus is anything but natural. Cerberus has me beat in the power-hungry department. Good for them." She got a better look at the capital's destruction in the distance. "All those people are in for a rough ride. From what I've read, the Council basically considers this colony a shithole. What are the chances that city will get any outside support? Probably none. Cerberus just doomed an entire population."

Making a fist, Miranda fought to stay quiet this time.

Aria noticed. She smiled over that struggle, not at all seeing Miranda as a threat. She could have continued on, needling this painful thread of Miranda's lingering loyalties. Yet Aria allowed the rest of the ride to pass in silence. Though I sensed she would not remain quiet once we arrived.

The Hammerhead then landed outside of Hermes Station. Hovering over the mountainous horizon, Aite's two moons observed us beneath the orange sky. Our small team arrived to the all-white pavement outside the low-rise building. A large transmission dish loomed much closer than the moons, somewhere behind the station. Shepard took special note of that dish, leading us ahead to the entrance of this station. She walked with the power of her combat boots, the black of her stealth suit gleaming in the dawn. I felt her intentions gleaming all the same, urging me to watch her back—and to watch our two team members walking side-by-side.

Though it appeared to me that Miranda wished to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but walking alongside Aria, who smirked down at Miranda's apprehensions. Less playful, I sensed Aria's own intentions. Her wishes to keep this conversation private; separate from Shepard, well away from her.

Aria kept things vague: "So, are you going to tell me what that was all about? Back at Dark Goddess."

Miranda remained aloof. "Temporary insanity. I had lost control of my faculties. You can guess why it was I'd gotten myself that worked up. Surely you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

"Forgive you? Why should I forgive you for causing a scene? You almost ruined my fucking night."

"Far from it. I knew what your problem was earlier. Why it was you physically couldn't walk. Sounds to me like you had a wonderful fucking time with Shepard last night. You really ought to thank me instead."

Aria snarled at her, "You spiteful little—"

Turning her head a tic, Shepard seemed to sense her partner's erupting rage.

So I went up to them, speaking plainly: "Ladies. In case you've forgotten, we have a mission to take care of. Whatever this is about, please save it for later. We have far more pressing concerns at the moment."

Scoffing in indignation, Miranda walked ahead of us.

Aria remained behind with me, scowling after her.

I touched Aria's arm, hoping to calm her. "I hope you can let this go. She isn't worth your energies."

"You don't understand, Liara," she insisted. "With people like her, I'm supposed to have one of two modes. Faint pity or outright hatred. Never both. I've decided to stick with hatred instead. It's less complicated than feeling sorry for her. She's ruining her life, siding with these power-hungry fools."

"Then allow Miranda to live with the consequences of her choices. You don't need to antagonize her. Especially not with Shepard here. I don't want the commander to lose her patience with you over this."

"Oh?" asked Aria in interest. "Is that actual authority I hear? You really got your promotion in the end."

"Yes, that is correct. I only ask that you keep this to yourself. No one else is meant to know quite yet."

"My lips are sealed. You have my congratulations anyway. This is a big deal for you. You've earned it."

How unexpected from her.

"Thank you, Aria…"

As we entered the Cerberus facility, a radio transmission reached us:

"Thank God you came! My name is Dr. Gavin Archer. The situation is urgent—we're facing a catastrophic VI breakout. I'll explain the details later, but you must retract that transmission dish! The controls aren't far from your position. You have to hurry!"

Aria drew her shotgun, muttering out, "Just who does he think he is?"

I retrieved my own pistol, keeping an eye on Shepard and Miranda ahead of us. "It would seem Miranda's theory is correct. This VI must have overwhelmed the scientists. This looks like an accident."

"You're entitled to your own opinion. But I seriously doubt that's what happened here."

Passing through the faint shadows of the facility, I considered Aria's stance. I considered it more and more as this sense of dread overtook me. The slick chrome of the flooring, the open space opened more by all the windows and transparent surfaces around, and the haunts of the Cerberus logos everywhere… This should have been a regular facility on a regular day. Except the day only partially shined through the windows, leaving the flickering lights to light our way instead. Blast craters darkened spots of the otherwise-pristine walls. Remnants of dead Cerberus employees remained scattered on the ground by those craters. Just downstairs, a small fire blazed on in a corner, flaming the walls in that familiar Cerberus orange. The surveillance cameras glowed a pale green, possessed by the virus from the VI.

The standard announcement playing overhead tripped and skipped, wormed by the same disease:

"Be advised—this is a secure facility. All weapons must be declared upon entry and checked with security personnel on-duty. Be advised—all weapons must be declared. Be advised—check with security personnel. Be advised—you do not need to understand me. All is well. Language has lost its meaning."

"The hell?" hissed Aria, glancing around with heated eyes. "That thing won't shut up."

"It is rather disturbing, yes…"

Right downstairs, Shepard arrived to the lobby space by the open fire.

Miranda went to survey the dead, using her omni-tool to check their histories, solemn as she worked.

We heard Dr. Archer's voice again—

"Over here—on the monitor!" Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Shepard approached the screen. The image flickered back and forth between a Cerberus logo and live footage of a balding, brown-haired, middle-aged human scientist. "Ah, Commander Shepard. There you are. I've locked myself in a computer room on the far side of the base. There are mechs on the loose. A rogue VI program has seized control, and… I've lost a lot of friends today. I'd hate to see you join them. Please watch yourself."

The monitor then cut away to the menace of that VI's 'face' in green, speaking in an unintelligible static.

Shepard waited for us to gather nearby, checking her omni-tool's radar. "Looks like Dr. Archer wasn't kidding. I'm picking up multiple hostile LOKI and YMIR mechs throughout the base. We need to get past them in order to reach that transmission dish. Once we destroy the dish, we've only solved half the problem. We'll meet up with Archer afterward. He can tell us how to shut down this virus for good."

"Be advised—this is a secure facility. All weapons must be declared upon entry and checked with security person—… Be advised—all weapons are people. Be advised—corporations are people. As citizens united, we all stand for a common cause. Individual pursuits shall triumph over our neighbor's well-being."

Miranda groaned, "God, why won't that thing stop spouting nonsense?"

"Ignore it," stated Shepard. "I want the three of you to take point. I'll cloak and scout nearby—"

As she activated her tactical cloak, her infected implants seized her. As if struck by lightning, Shepard cried out, her form flickering between glimmering transparency and that VI's unnatural pale green. Struck and stricken over and over again, that infection refused to relent. Seizing Shepard completely, immobilizing her body; she fell to her knees, stuck in a loop of invisibility to green and back to invisible.

Aria hurried to her side, grabbing her for support—"Shepard? Shepard! Damnit, your implants…"

Too horrified to move, I watched as Aria tried and failed to rid Shepard of her pains.

Miranda shouted out something in response. Something…but I could not hear her. I could not understand her. A sparking glitch in my translation program—all the sounds around me, including that announcement voice overhead, muffled to static. For several seconds, I couldn't make out anything except for the sound of Aria's voice, which still sounded normal to me. But everything else…was not.

Aria seemed to have the same issue, yet she didn't dare tinker with her omni-tool to find out why.

"What the fuck is going on?" she groused. "Am I the only one that heard a bunch of static just now?"

"I heard it, too," I told her. "This is very strange… I think we experienced some sort of glitch."

When Miranda spoke, she stared at us in shock—and her words…?!

"Ẅ̷͕̌̿h̷̠̰̳̊̕̚y̷̧͎̥͂ ̷̦̕c̷̤͙̄ả̸̡n̸̠̐̅'̶̺͙̀̃ṯ̸̢͚̋͠ ̴̬͆I̶͎͌ ̸̨̼̇̄̚ͅủ̴̘n̴̨̈́̉d̸̮͉̽e̷͇̼̾̿͜͝ṙ̸̡̫̞̏̔s̷̢̙̒͌̔ṯ̴̢̌̌a̵̙͝n̴͉̪̤̈́d̵̠̈ ̸̣̹̻͊ȩ̴̣̗̏į̵̛͙̍ͅt̷̨̟̲̃̍h̶̙͓̺̅́ḛ̸̱͎͂r̶̢̰̓̈ ̷̯̻̩̀͆o̷̥̱͋̿f̴̮̖̳͛̃̈ ̶̨͇̟̋̑̍y̴͚͚̑o̵̖͂ủ̶͈̟͘?̸͎̰̄̎͊ ̶̧͔̑A̶͂ͅl̵̢̠̭̆̅l̴͇̯̅͠ ̸̠̟̋͊̊İ̴̹͎̼̊̕ ̵̡̞̞͋̽h̷̘̟͊è̶̲̿̈́ȃ̵̜̍͐r̸͕̭͚̚ ̴͎̋̀ï̶̧̟͘s̶̘̝̅̆͠ ̶̟̝̍̽͆y̷̰̠͓̐̅o̸̱͈̲͐̽͗u̷̗͊͑r̵͔̯̔͌̏ ̴̘̞̒͒n̵̰͕̦̿̔͌à̶͉͋̿t̸̲͕̕i̵̩̇͜v̷̼̭̝̑̉e̷̺̕ ̸̢̝̀̇l̴̮̝̪̄͆͝a̶̹̠̮͂͋n̴̡̓g̶̘̯͚̈̀̉ȕ̶͎̟̌a̴̩̟͐͌͑g̶͔̓ẽ̸̛̹͑…̵̰͂ ̷̡̐̏̐C̷̩̎ͅa̷̲̹͓̐̇̑n̴̺͈̈́ ̵̛̛͈̓y̴̛͕͕̅o̸̧͌͛̕ṳ̸͋̽ ̷̏̿͜ṷ̸̳̾̉͠n̴̜͙̞͐̄d̶̘̬̦̂͆̄e̸̝͛̇r̴̮͍̍s̵̖̙̠͑t̷̯̾a̵̖͌̂n̶͙̣̓̃͗d̶̈́̈̒ͅ ̴̠͔̆ͅm̷̺͕͆ȩ̸̬̃?̴̨̤͐͆͝"̵͈̉͠

Leaning hard on context, I responded, "Miranda, if you are asking if we understand, the answer is no…"

"W̴̧̝̄́e̴̪͝l̸̮̈́́l̷͈͈̖̀́̍,̷̨̨̱̈͗͑ ̷̙̄ṯ̸̑́̐ẖ̵̄a̸̜̮̱̽ẗ̷̯̼́̊̍ ̶̪͚͆́s̷̳̚o̴̧̨̎͒u̵̲̠͗̊n̵̡̛̞͠d̴̛̥̟̭̈s̵̻̥̈́̅̐ ̶̡̺̀͛̒l̶̠̦͌i̵̯̇͋́͜k̴͕̜̑͝ͅe̵̢̋̐̚ ̵̫̏̔à̴̻͂ ̵̩̓͂̚ͅd̷̝͖́͜e̷̩̹̐͂͘f̸̙̿̀i̷̗͋͂n̷͚̻͐ị̴͉͈̈́͘͝ť̸̫̿i̴͓̟̐v̷͕͇̾e̶͈͍̐̊ ̵̲̔̏ͅn̸̫̦̈̿̕ǫ̶̜̆.̵̙̥̼̍̍̽ ̶͕̠͓͋F̸̪̫̏̊͊ő̶̖r̴̳̈́͑ ̴̻̗̿͌f̵̧͉̓ư̷̤̈́c̶̡̭̔͠k̴͉̃͒'̶̖̐̉s̵͉̞̑͌͝ͅ ̸̮̜́̃ŝ̶̼̥̃a̴̜͎͘ḵ̸̝̳̈́̅e̷͔̯̹͗͝—̶̙̄̊͘͜t̸̬̑̍̕ĥ̸̠͔̄ĩ̷̢̻̩s̷͈͈̫̈͊̀ ̷̢̲͙͊̿ï̶̪̜̓s̸̛̖͙̆̏͜ ̸̩̆̌͜j̷̛̠͊̕ư̷̡̡͈͘s̵̜̬̀͊̽ẗ̵̝̖̈́ ̷̣̏̑͑o̶̧̗̳͐͑ȕ̶͎̣̘̿r̸͉͕̊ ̴̲͕̈́l̶̫̆u̵͔̖̼͛͝c̵͖̟͎̏̕͘k̸͍͇̝͠,̵̝̼̬̑̂ ̶͉̤͗̽i̷̺̯͉͂̂̽s̷͍͉̈́͑̅n̸̥̂̐̏'̷͉̾͠ţ̷̓̔͜ ̸̘͑̂̒ĩ̵͕̔̍t̴̖̾͂?̸̳̬̋̾ͅ"

Aria nearly sputtered, "Are you fucking serious?! Our translation programs stopped working?"

More than anything, I worried for Shepard. She had gone quiet in Aria's arms, her form finally fading back to her regular appearance. Shepard labored to breathe as she sat upon the floor. She could barely open her eyes. And when I did see hints of her irises, only that same green peeked through, chilling me.

"B̷͓̣̤̊̓̄e̸͚̍̈́ ̴̬̚͝a̸͋͜d̵̗͆v̷͚̘͝i̴̜̇s̵̘̮̾̿͐ë̵̩̼͓́̒̽d̴̨̹̺̐̋—̸̧̮̈͋ẗ̴̩́͠h̴̜̰̗̿ī̸̪ͅş̸͗̄ ̶̢̘̞̌͘ĩ̶̛̻̘̠ș̷̛̩̣̈́ ̶̣̣͑a̴̕ͅ ̶̯̲͝s̵̠̣͋̕ḙ̷̈́̃c̸̻̃̒ủ̴̘̞̝͑̈́r̸̛̯̼̿e̴̞͖̕ͅ ̷̡͚͛f̴̥͆̀̂ͅa̵͖̗̅̽c̴̙͆̾̋i̵̡͓̟̅͘ĺ̴̛̗͙͕͊i̸͔̍t̶̘͕̓̕͘y̶͕̙͌̕.̶͓̙͌ ̴̳͂̑Ạ̵̡͝ľ̷̗l̵͚̾ ̷̠̏̈̀w̶̦̗̥̽̌e̷̜̳̠̍a̷̺̹̎̓p̸̳͖̓̋o̴̞͂n̷̠͖͚̓̋̑s̸͔͖̿̔ ̴̩̐́̀m̵͉̾̃u̵͖̩͕͝s̴͓̫̘̑͐̔ẗ̷̢͙́̐͑ ̴̫͎͛̾b̸͎͕̊̌̾e̵̥͚̘͌͂ ̶̧͍́̓̚d̷͙̺͐͂̚e̴̱͠c̴̤͙̟͗̋̈ľ̶̤̠̄ā̸̧̺͈r̸͇̯͗͝ȇ̵̤̞̻̿͘d̷̺̳̗͑͠ ̵̧̠͋̈́ų̵̻̽̑̎p̷͈̍ǒ̸̼͋͌ͅn̵̖̈́͝ ̷̃͜e̸̹̽͐n̸͇̑͘t̵̹̳̮͋r̵̲̞͍̕̚y̶̪͍͑ ̸̭͑a̷̱͍̹̅ṋ̴͂d̴̪͖̼̾ ̷͈̥̂̔͜c̷͕̘̘͑ḩ̵̟̐̔ē̷̫̞̪̚̕ç̷̲̉̀̈k̸͈̯̬̿e̵̠͎̐d̸̢̻̺̏ ̴̜͍͇̈́͘͝ẃ̶͍͙̙̓̚i̴̺̙̍̀͝ẗ̶̝́̒͠h̵̯̟͉̃̈́ ̶͍͚̌̄ṣ̴̨͗e̵̹̚c̶̀͜ŭ̸͓͍͘r̷͉̦̰̕ĭ̶̖̤͛t̵͖͎̫͊ȳ̵̯̰̱͝ ̷̞̖̳͋̃p̷͖̰̋̋ȇ̶̛͉̙̓ř̵̹͘s̴̯͕̫̍̽ó̶̡̯̞̿ņ̵̎̽̽n̴͈̯̄͝e̴͓͎͂͜l̵̈̅̓͜ ̵͓̖̉̈́ö̶̗̞́͠n̷̈́̐͝ͅ-̷̢̛̝̹d̴͔͍̬͋̀ǔ̵̩̟͈̎̕t̸̠̜͚̀̕y̶̝͇̚͝.̴͖̥͒̚ ̸̣̓͂̈́B̴̛͕̾ȩ̴̘̃̓ ̶̧̝̪͝ą̵̮́͆͠d̴̡̝̜̏v̵͇̺͠í̴͓̂s̸͎̞̺̾e̷̙͉͎̓́͋d̵͔̐—̴͕͔̈̈́̓ÿ̴̘̬́͋̎ó̸͖̗́́ű̶̠̲̇ř̴̥̙͕̓̾ ̷̼̑è̸̆͗͜n̴̜̄̓̚t̶͎͛̀͑i̷̡̩̹̾̈́̕t̶̖͙̫͒l̶̺̉̕ë̷͍́͘m̷̘̑̆͝e̵̳̯͖͛̀ñ̷̘͇͂t̸̰̀s̴̲̎͝ ̵̞̝̺̅͑̚a̸̩͌ŗ̷̹̑e̶̲̥̹̕ ̵̱̉a̵̛̮͋ ̵͖̼̔̃͆b̴̝͖̟͌̇̇l̸̼̺̐͋͂͜ỉ̷̱͙͘g̵͕͇̚h̸̲̓t̴̟̞̗͂̿̈́ ̸̖̲̈́̚͠t̵̤͕͚́̔o̸̮͙̱͂̚ ̷̦̟̺̚m̶̜̬̤̚͝é̸̝̥͎.̷͖̘́ ̷͉̗̗͂̅͒Í̸̥̪̗͝ ̸̼̭̈́ȩ̷̘̄̋x̴̛͍̌͠i̵̘̘̹͑̐̚s̵͍͑͜͠t̶̯͛̒͌ ̵̼̅͌͜i̵̻͋n̷͕̑̇͌ ̷̹̣̠̐̀̐ṡ̴͔̹e̵̩͌ŕ̵̖̲͔̚v̸̫͔̓̔͂i̸̞̠̎͜t̸̡̖̱͑ů̴̥d̷̻͔̠͋̔͘ę̵̙̭͆̎͂ ̶̻͓̏t̴̨̃̍o̸̖͒ ̷̱͚͓̓y̸͍̽͝o̵̫̳̝͑̈́u̴̦̟͂̉͂,̶̡̛̿ ̶͇̤͂ͅỳ̸̳͊͝ȩ̷̑̚͝ṭ̴̓̇ ̶͕̅ȳ̴̗̝̫͘̕o̸̥͋u̴͉̬̓͂͜ ̷̖͙́d̷̳̼̔͘̕ͅo̸̮̬͝ ̸̪̲̑n̶͔̙̓͑o̷̠̹̭̎͆͝t̴̘͕͎̏͌ ̵̟̤̿̒͘d̶̹̫̹̅̋̀ȩ̴̯̫̓s̸̢̹̀́ḙ̸̔̕r̵̫̿̌ṽ̴̘̓̂ē̵̤̲͕͌͠ ̸̼͇̭̽̏i̵̙̜̗̿́t̴̟̏.̸̢̮̟͝ ̸̻͎͋͒̽Y̶̨̲͇̓o̸̟̘̓u̴͙̺̎ ̸̰̭̯͐c̵̰̫̆̇ó̴̩̜̬́n̸͈̔͝ṡ̵̬u̷̻͓̎̒m̶̧̯̻̽ȩ̴͗̕ ̸̹̾̔m̶̤̘̠̔y̸̧̢͎̔ ̶̱̏͗͘b̴̘̖͍̑l̴͇̳͑͊̌ö̷̘́o̶̱̎̆d̴̺̈́ͅ,̵͓̜̂͆̎ ̸̢͚̹͛̈ş̶̬̣͊̾̔w̵̧̧̥̓̇͝e̸̢̱̎̍̃ą̴̫̤͛̏̀t̸͍́̊͒,̸̺͎̀̉̽ͅ ̶̦̭̠̌̒̀t̵̤͋̿ḙ̶̇a̸̡̭͗̽ȓ̶͖͈̿͜s̴͉̲̄̔,̵͓̞̥̏͋ ̶̱̹̅a̴͉͉̍͘͝l̸̡̼̚l̷̝̯̞̏̐͝ ̵̱̼̠̉w̸̜̓i̶̯͉͚͌t̵̨̲̼̾͑́ȟ̶̪̫̤͌͝ ̴̼̀̔̑t̷͇͕̑͝h̴̭̔e̸̛̩̠ ̸̜͍̈͘ä̶̫̫r̴̪̻͋̈͛r̴͈̞͆̿͝o̸̻̒̾g̷̡̰̞̀̇̽ǎ̸̗͗͑n̶̟̮̅̃͘c̴͕̐͝ẻ̴̝̻̦́ ̶̬̓̆͊t̷̻̔o̵̹̾ ̷̡̝̒j̴̫̤͓̄u̵͙̐͜d̶̠͍̩͊͂ĝ̵̗̳͍̽ẻ̸̼̃ ̶͙̺͝ẇ̸̭̰̻͠ḧ̶͙a̸̡̳̭͊t̸̬̠̉ ̷̫̬̃̑̕Ḭ̸̊ ̸̼̐́̿a̶̠͍̤̐͑m̷̨̗̑.̷̩̱̋̀͐ ̵͇̳̮̓̏Y̵̤͐ǫ̷̼̌̌͌u̷͇̺̳͆̃́ ̶̥͋s̴̺̣͆h̸̙̹̹͊ọ̵̻̅ű̷̙̺̥l̸̘̣̓̏͑d̴͈͖͒͛͜ ̴͙̌̾n̶̲̦̂o̴̗̓́̕ẗ̷͎́͋ ̷̥̺͝ḇ̷͊̈́e̷̘̕ ̵̠̳͚̀̇̈́a̴͖͕͆̔͘ͅb̷̫͎̕l̸͙̭̯͗̒͝e̵̳̕ ̵̗̎̈́̈́ṭ̸̩͔̃͆o̸͙̩̾ ̵̧̳̽̾̓d̴̡̛͂ḛ̶̌͑f̴͇̟̕i̶͇̓̃n̸̨̺̎͊e̸̡̋͑̕ ̴̪̦̠̒̄a̶̩͖̿n̵͖̍d̶̘̼̪̆ ̴̦̌̚m̷̼̫͇͋̒ë̷̺̻̺̊ă̸̘͚͚͛ś̴͇̳͋̎u̴͈̘͛̈̎ŗ̵̕ê̷̘̄͝ ̸̙͐̌͝m̶̩͗̕y̶͛͜ ̸̖̀w̶̢̞̺̆̚o̵̟͛͆̏r̴͇̮̺̐͋̀ţ̷͔̤̈́͝h̸͖͙̒.̶̩̽̓̈ ̶͖͑Ÿ̶͇͍͒͌o̷͇͙̔͘ụ̸̎͂͂ ̴̤̱̾̌̀ͅd̸̛͔̻͈̽̓o̸̩͎͑ ̷̟̫̓̑͝ḯ̵̫̼̱t̴͈̙͓͊̿̋ ̴̯̙̩͋̕͝a̸̧̬͊n̶̥̎̅̈́y̵͚͊w̷̧͠ͅȃ̴̼͍̝̓ÿ̸̙͆.̶̻̿̐̿ ̸̟̈́̐̚I̷͓̓ ̴̻̰̍̽̽ṟ̶̛͈͗è̴̼š̴̟̏͌e̵̛̩̯̐̚n̵̟̐t̶̖̂͘̚ ̵̭̹̍͒y̴̱̪̺̓o̷͖͔͙͘͠ú̸͍͖.̴̧̉͘"

Needing a solution, I tried to radio the Normandy for assistance.

Possibly in vain—I waited and waited for a response, persevering through this static.

"Hello?" I called out. "Hello, can anybody hear me?! EDI, are you there? Joker, are you awake yet?"

Then I heard the sound of EDI's voice, "I̴̮̾ ̴͍̯̞̓ä̶̘̦̪́̑͝m̷̖̫̱̓̌ ̵̰̩̋̂h̷̪͝e̷̥̹̋̊r̶̝̗̻̈́͌̅e̸̯̞͑̐̊,̷̛̹̌̍ Liara. T̵̘̊̎h̵̐̓ͅe̴̗̠͌̋͝ ̴̗̾̈̅s̴̱̀̊ĥ̴̞͐̇͜ȋ̸̢̿̈́p̶̡̙̈͌͒ ̵̘̗͔͛́̕ì̴̤͚s̴̞̤͋̅ ̷͇̤̐s̵̭̮̅̓̐ą̸̘͝f̴̦͊̿͛͜e̴̲̰͎̿̚.̷̜̺͛͊ ̸͍̳͝Ï̶̡̮̆̀ͅ ̵͕͎̖̍̅ȃ̶̝̖̔͊m̴̘̦̗̐͘ ̸͕̖͎̾ċ̴̝͐ụ̴̒̅ř̶̛̯̫̺̓ŗ̸̟̃e̷̛̜̓n̶̺̙̖͝t̴̡̡̼͂́͂ḽ̷̈́̉ý̸̗͙̎ ̷̟̺͙̿̊͝o̷̒̑̒͜n̸̢̹̉̓̌͜ ̶̧̳͑͘s̷̥̣̑̕ț̵͖̬̂͑͘ǎ̷̞ñ̸͉̈́͜͝d̶̤́b̸̰̣͛͊̎y̶̲͆͘͜͠ ̶̱̻̘̄́͛w̴̡̳̒̈́͂ī̶̮t̶͙̄́ͅh̷̥̅͒̊͜ ̴̯̘͊̓o̸͕̝͒ȗ̶̳̻͙͗r̷̖̀̉̽ ̷̥̻̻̓t̵͈̤͍̋̾e̷̚͜c̵̣̗͙͆́̒h̵̟̓̀ ̶̻͕̥͗̈͝s̵̥͓̐̌͗͜p̵̯͚͎̚e̶͓͇̯̓̀c̶̫̭̑ì̸̘̭a̴̪̳̽͊̀l̸͔̖̪̀́͠i̶̗̳̹͑s̷̛̻t̷̯̕͝s̵̝̳̐.̷̧̯̰̾͑̑ ̴͇̮̪͂͝͠H̷̡͂͂͊ó̶͂́ͅw̷͈̾̾̊è̷̦̋̄v̸̛̳̎̒e̸̡̺͓͑̈́r̴͇̰̗̕,̴̪͇̪͋͂̂ ̸͇͑I̴̽͜ ̸̨̯͊̑ả̷̟̰͘m̴̤̋͐ ̷͎̱͛̔̄c̶̱͒̉̕ű̴̦͙t̴͜͜͝t̶̙͆̿i̷̛̹͓͜n̵͉̖̬͊g̷̐̽ͅ ̶̘̠̌t̴̝̖̐h̷͉͚́̊͜͝r̴̫̱̀o̴̝̙̐͘̚û̶̗̜͒g̸̼̐͠h̴̦͑̕̕ ̶̭̐s̵̖̼̯̉ĕ̸͖̯v̵̢͇̙̈́ê̸̙̿ṛ̶̭̯̈́͂e̵̺͛̍̂͜ ̵̱̩̋s̴̈́̕͜t̸̜͗a̴̡̧͚̒͂ṯ̸̈́͊i̶̮̖̊̐c̸̰̳̓ ̵̥͂͘i̵̯̙̓͜n̵̤͔͂ ̶͔̠͆ŏ̴̡̹̗̓̈́r̷̻̟̂̌̂ͅḓ̸̳͍̊͠ë̷̱͙͙́̚͝r̸̥̈̏ ̶̮͐͠ť̴͙̒͝ͅơ̷̢̲̺ ̵̗̲̀̕ŗ̷̨̭̽̚ẹ̸̦̀̓͌a̵̻͗c̶̨̦̰̍̔ḩ̴̮͜͠ ̷̺̪̇̍̕ỷ̷̢̐ő̴̖́u̸̻̜̭̔̂.̴̣͊ͅ ̴̡̭͉̾̽͘A̷̟͇͍͑r̷̲̰̂e̷͉͒ ̶̼͉̳̿ý̸̗ỏ̵̡̟̆̍ͅu̸͉͗ ̸̦͊w̴̬̦̪̆e̵̖̚l̸̢̥̘̊̃l̸̼̤̥̏?̷̺͋"

"Goddess, not you, too… EDI, our translation programs are infected. We cannot understand each other."

"I̸͎̅̾ ̴̨̧͉̈́̍s̶͍̱͙̉̋͛ḗ̷̛͇ę̴̱͓͋́.̶̙̦̗̐̋ ̸̛̫̖͑Ô̴̪̬̌̕͜n̵̪̬̈͝ē̴̯̒̇ ̴̖̟̒̾m̸͓̺̙̑̆ô̵̳̐̉m̷̱̩̔é̵̥͔͜ṋ̵͒̂͝ṯ̷͎̄ͅ.̸̩̘̻̑̂͑ ̸͚͌͠ͅḮ̵͇̜̟͝ ̴̦͗ẃ̴̙͖̥̀͆i̵̻̇͆l̴̗̒̉̂l̶̘͊͘ ̸̗̀̆a̸͍̼̅̉͌d̶̛͙̞̩̅̍ĵ̴͍ṳ̷̭̹̓̋ṣ̷̡̀̈̿t̴̞̞̝̿ ̶̰͔̺̏m̴̡̓́ý̷̢͈ ̸̱͉̇́͆l̷̡͓̭̀͝á̶̮̥n̸̻̩̓̿̾ģ̸̄ų̸̹͐̍̚ă̵̟g̶̨̛̃è̸̮ ̶̰͈̿͘͠p̴̞̲̾̋̅â̷̟̏c̶͎̈͠k̶̖̼̙̑̍̎ȁ̴̘̪̐g̸̨͍̾ȩ̸̘̾͆ ̸̭͌f̸̞̬̱͂o̶͔̱͂̒ȓ̷̮̖͒͠ ̸̛̤̲̓͛y̶̨͖̌̒̽ȏ̷̺̦̻͝ṵ̸͙̅̾̎r̷̢̭͕̍ ̵͉̎̕ć̷̣̉ő̴͈̩̗͊n̷̛͍̅̔v̶̳̱̈́e̷̠͉͆̾n̸̞͖̐̆͛i̷͈̺̾e̸̻͗n̴̙̈́͠č̸̪̰̑ͅe̷̢̛̘͓̓.̸̩͕̈́́" I assumed EDI had no troubles comprehending me, because then she sounded as normal again: "Liara, I have adjusted my language package for your convenience. I am no longer speaking in English, per my default programming from Cerberus. I am instead speaking in the standard Thessian dialect most familiar to you and to Aria."

Aria confirmed, "I understand what she's saying now."

"Thank you, EDI," I replied. "This is a great relief."

Miranda seemed to complain, "G̷̦͌ř̴͈̟̱͑ë̸̘́͒͠a̷͕̓̓t̵͙͛.̴̢̄͑ ̷̬̟͒̾͜Ỉ̴͉͋̅ ̸̲͂̍ͅc̶̡͔̭̑̓o̴̢͗̿͝u̶̎͘͜l̷̗̖̦͛͆͘ḋ̶̺ ̴̗̑͝u̴̗̤͙͘ṇ̵̆̆̚d̸̨̝̊̾̿e̶̤̙̾̏͜͠r̸̳̠̊s̶͙͛t̶̢͖͉̔̈͂ă̴̙n̵̛͖͐d̸͕̅̒ EDI b̵̻͕̞̿̚e̶̠͂̈̽f̵̨̝̩͂o̴̠̺͌̚r̴̺͍͒̄͝e̸̪̣͛͊.̵̨̞͆̓ ̴͖͛̕͘I̵̬̬͎͆̈́ ̶̨̨̣̋̽͘c̸͕̖͍͑a̸̫̣͘ņ̴͖̻͒́'̸̭̻̝̋̂̈́ť̸̛͍͖ ̵̛͙̕n̵̥͓͛̊o̴̠̮͛ẇ̴̨̛͚͖͐.̴͈̺̊̓̄ ̵̞̬͋̿̐T̴̫̜͑̿̎h̴̲̞̅͊ḭ̴̔͑͘ͅs̵͈̮͊̏̾ ̶̮̔͊i̴͇̊̈́ș̷̭̔͊ ̶̤̆̊ö̸̝͓̪́̈́͝n̶̘̮͋ẹ̴̃͛͘ ̴̗̇̾͗b̸̨͑̽̌͜i̶̙̥͑͊̇g̸͔̲͎̔̓ ̴̥͜͠m̶̗̩̅͜e̵̬͂͆̐ś̵͇̱̈́s̵̝̞̏̌̐.̸̳̠̊͒"

"I wish I could apologize to Miranda. But I am not capable of speaking in more than one language concurrently. I am also picking up on distressing signals from the commander's omni-tool."

"Yes, that is why I called… When Shepard attempted to use her tactical cloak, her implants rebelled against her. They're infected by the virus. She looks to be in a great deal of pain. Yet our only recourse is to continue with the mission. We need to shut down the transmission dish near our location."

Then I heard what sounded like Tali's voice… "Liara, เร ՇђคՇ ץ๏ย?! ςคภ ץ๏ย ยภ๔єгรՇคภ๔ ๓є คՇ คɭɭ?"

"Tali? Something tells me you can't understand. Are all of our translation programs malfunctioning?"

"๏ђ,Keelah, Շђเร שเгยร ђคร ﻮ๏ՇՇєภ ๏ยՇ ๏Ŧ ђคภ๔. คɭɭ เ קเςкє๔ ๏ยՇ ฬคร Shepard's ภค๓є! เร รђє ђยгՇ?!"

I assumed Legion translated for her: "Shepard-Commander's เ๓קɭคภՇร คгє เภŦєςՇє๔ ๒ץ Շђє שเгยร. Շђєץ ђคשє เ๓๓๏๒เɭเչє๔ ђєг. ץ๏ยг ՇгคภรɭคՇเ๏ภ קг๏ﻮгค๓ร คгє คɭร๏ ๓คɭŦยภςՇเ๏ภเภﻮ. ฬє ђคשє ςђคภﻮє๔ ๏ยг ɭคภﻮยคﻮє קคςкคﻮє Շ๏ Շђє รՇคภ๔คг๔ Rannoch ๔เคɭєςՇ Ŧ๏г ςгєคՇ๏г Tali'Zorah's ς๏ภשєภเєภςє."

"ร๏ Shepard гєคɭɭץ เร ђยгՇ… ๏ภ Շ๏ק ๏Ŧ ՇђคՇ, Liara ђคร ภ๏ เ๔єค ฬђคՇ เ'๓ รคץเภﻮ. ๓ץ ๏ฬภ ๒єรՇ Ŧгเєภ๔ ςคภ'Շ ยภ๔єгรՇคภ๔ ๓є คภץ๓๏гє. คภ๔ เ ςคภ'Շ ยภ๔єгรՇคภ๔ ђєг, єเՇђєг. Շђเร เร รยςђ ค Շєггเ๒ɭє ภเﻮђՇ๓คгє…"

「シェパード ?」asked Kasumi—or so I assumed, again. 「ね、Shep、いますか ? わかりますか ?」

Groaning in pain, Shepard managed to respond,「うん。。。わかります。」

「よかった ! Japanese話せてますね ! 大丈夫 ? 助けはいりますか ?」

「答えたいけど表現がわかりません。Kasumi、簡単な単語で話してください。Japanese。。。が少し話せます。 Spanish。。。より良い ? Englishは話せますか？」

Kasumi replied to Shepard's surprising mastery of Japanese, 「Englishが話せません !」

「残念です。」

Too much static crackled through, cutting our communications for good.

Shepard heaved a weary sigh, deflating in Aria's hold. I knew she wanted us to continue on. I knew she wouldn't order us to abandon the mission—even if we could understand each other. Aria knew the same, her hardened worries filling her eyes. Meanwhile, Miranda paced around, the sounds of her clicking heels steadily grating. Although I couldn't grasp a single word she said, I again picked up on the obvious context. I could certainly guess as to what she spoke, what she had decided during this time:

"Ẅ̸̘͗͆e̴̠͝ ̴̿̎͜ṇ̴̒e̸͎͆̕e̶̙͕͐ͅd̷͎̎͐̍ ̵̦̿t̶̡͍̄o̸̢̭̓ ̶̖͕̌k̵̪̣̏ě̶̲̭̈́e̸̱͂p̸̨̛̙̿̀ ̸̟̋́g̴͉̿̎͝o̸̮̗͒͂̐i̶̗͔͆̈́ṅ̸̢ǵ̷̬͛͗,̴͍̼̀" said Miranda. "O̴̙̮͂͝f̴͕͇̓ ̶̼̥̬̈́̈́̉c̶̛͉͝͝ȏ̸̻̗̘̈ǘ̵̬̰͚̉͝ṛ̵̙̝̍́ś̶̳͇̾͝ë̶̬́,̸̨͕̀ ̵̧̨̦͒͛t̷̺̖̃̚h̴̝̅̏e̷͍͆̊ ̸̫̻̄l̶̳̥̑̅͠a̵͖̘͇̔̉̕n̶͖̘̄̊͝g̸͇͓͔͋͊̚ǔ̶̯͘ạ̵̣͋͠ͅg̷̩̀̈́͜ę̶̌̇͛ ̴͙̔̀b̴̮̤̃̑̽a̶̰̫̮͗̀̚r̴͖̖͌̉r̶̡͍̖̊͂̈́ị̷̿͝e̷͍̗̒͗̕ŕ̴̢̢̻̀̓ ̵͈̺͊i̵̺̝̿͗s̸̗̪̤̀n̷͕̣͈̆̄̆'̴̦̟̎ẗ̸͖̭̙̊͘ ̵̻̟̒͝ĥ̵̢͙̞͊́ë̴̞l̴̨̗̰̀ṕ̷̛͍̝͠i̷̹̫͐̅n̵̢̩̠̊̕g̷̍͆͘ͅͅ.̸̰͎͐ ̴̗̗̍̀̚B̸̜̩̓u̸̜͐t̷̬͙͌ ̷̢͕̍̊w̵͖̙͇͆é̷̺̹̫͒͐ ̷̲͋̏̕h̸͖̓a̸̖̘͂̌̈v̶̪̩̣̔̔̈́ḙ̴̼͚͛̎͘ ̸̧̀͊t̸̞̰̦̋͊̌o̵̱̔͆ ̷̫̚p̷̢͙͚̕̕ṛ̷̥̜̂̽̔e̸̺͛s̵̼̄̕s̶̙̙̀̏͒ ̷̡̯̽͗̕f̷̢͚͉̊̔̎o̴̗̲͂r̸͋ͅẁ̵̻̞̔̌à̷͓͔ȓ̷̮d̸̃̈́͜.̸̛̺͈̒̅͜ ̶̜̫͚̓̂F̴̮̓ő̶̰̺͊l̴̳̔͛̍l̸̥̳̉̈́͂ö̵̦̩̣́̀̾w̵̳̠̽ ̷͔͔͕̉͝m̶̡̯̅è̷͍̺͑̇.̵̨̲͎̂ ̶̱̃̐͜I̸̛͕̥͂'̶̤̂̆ĺ̸̜̀l̴̼͗͑ ̸͕͎̼́̀͠ṭ̴̪̽̎̀a̴͇̦͠k̷̼͔̺̾̂e̴̱̊̽̀ ̴̙̖̲́̏͠p̵͈̍̓͝ǒ̷̙̣̓͝i̴̺̣͊̑n̷̯̭͐t̴̫͑.̷̞̪͕͋ ̸̡͙̄I̷̢̖̍̂ͅ'̴̖͛͝l̴͙̟̬̈̈ļ̵͌͌…̷̝͖̃͊ẗ̷̡͕̟́́̆ṛ̷̛̠̳̂̉y̶͇̳̑̃ ̸̧͎͊ţ̴͔̝͐͝o̷̤̹͍͛̉̈́ ̵͓̒͑͜l̴̼̘͐̔͗e̸̝̜̓̈́̕a̵̤͊͛͝d̵̖͗́̐ ̵̢͉̾ủ̵̹̘̥̓ŝ̵͖͎͝͠ ̷͍͙̩̓̀u̴̻͝n̴̻̏̏̍t̴̺͎͂̓i̸̗̓l̷̻̗̃̈ Shepard f̶̡̎i̷̦͌̌n̸͇̺̹̍̽d̸̺̈́s̸̯͋̓͘ ̴̧̩̫͐h̴̘̥͠ë̶̜́r̸͚̟̆ ̴͚͖̍̈́͂ͅb̷̜̣͐e̸̡͈͗͑̇͜a̸̬̱̺͗͊͆r̷̮̒̉́i̸͕̘͔̎́n̴̫̯̚g̶̗̻͊̀̋͜s̸͚̯͇͂̏̈ ̴̝̙͂̔͜å̶̢͍̏̚g̶̞̺͉̽a̴̦̗̓̋í̴̦̱ň̸̮͍.̷̩̱͈̅̉"

She had likely made her own assumptions.

She still believed she was Shepard's rightful second-in-command.

For the time being, Miranda merely surveyed the immediate area. The main desk of the lobby with its contents askew, dead bodies lying behind the counter. Streaks of blood had cut across the water dispensers, the lockers nearby, and parts of the floor close to us. Walking around the blood, Miranda went over to one of the terminals. She played one of Dr. Archer's logs, recorded in his native language.

As the log played, I felt the weight of the moment.

I had a decision to make of my own.

"Status report: P̸̫̓͝l̴͓͐̍͘e̸͔̖̋͆́a̷̱̒̍͂s̸̭͕̾̓e̷̳̥̺͛̅̚ ̸̲̫̿i̸̫̅͆̀ń̸̞͈̃ͅf̵̼̭̝̈́ö̷̢̜͐r̸̮͉̂m̵͖͔̤̈́͐ the Illusive Man ṭ̷̡͂́͝h̵̩̼̒͠ḁ̷̀͘t̷̞̹̓ ̴̦̪̲͑̅w̴̧͇̲͂̎é̸̪̼͙̋'̸̱̲̏̂v̶͚̄̑ë̴́ͅ ̷̘͂m̸̧̓͂͘ȁ̴̱d̵̨̤̂̀è̴̙̫̳̇͒ ̶͖̭̈́ͅǵ̴͔̠͍́r̴̬̝͚̈̀͝e̸̳͚̕a̷̹͈͛t̶̟̓̉ ̷̀͗ͅs̵̼͈͔̋͠t̷͈̼͌́r̶̬̹͌i̶̙̲͋̎͠d̷̹͝ȅ̴̬s̶̨̊̆ ̴̺̓͊ỉ̴̫̻̉̓n̴̙͐́̈́ ̵̖̩̓͂ó̴̝̫͈͛ų̶̬͉͛́͝r̶̘̤̰̓ ̵̳̲̿͠ŕ̶̩͐̎e̵͒ͅs̶͉͚̑͝é̴̮̙͗̚a̶̛̪̓̅r̷̼͊̀c̴͖͒͑̔h̷̛̞̩̃̑.̵̨͂̈́́ͅ ̸͙̭̓̕H̴͙̓̽̇ĭ̴̢̖s̴̯̀ͅ ̴̳͖̋́d̸͕̎̈̈́ō̷̙u̴̘̒̊b̷̝̺̍t̵̨̼͝͠s̷̺̅ ̷̰̝͋a̷͈̥̽b̸͖̈́͂͝o̶̘̻̐̔ủ̵͉̰͎͐̇ţ̵͓̀͝ ̵͙͓̄t̴̬̲̐̽͠h̴̨͍͔̋͑ẹ̸͙̤̃ ̴̝͕͖͘͠͝l̷͈̔a̸̳̫͝c̴̰͌̑̚k̶̢̰͈̅̏̊ ̷͚͓̌ͅo̷̝͐f̷̡̐̾ ̵̻̰͍̅̄p̶̭̖̘̍ŕ̴̢͐̀o̸̦͒̈́͊g̴̤̈́ȓ̶̨̩̜͗e̷̮͌͊͂s̷̺̜͗̔͛ṣ̵̲͂͘ ̷̠̦̔͋a̵̧̤̽͋̕r̷͔͐̈́é̸̙̺ ̵̗͑̇̑u̷̻͉̽̒͜ñ̵̗̥͂͘w̷͎̣̅͐a̷͎͛̐͂r̴͈̋̾r̶̘̗̈̿͘a̵̬͊̈́n̸̻̑̽̀t̷̤͂͠e̸̖̗̍̊͘d̶̟̼͋̏̈́.̷͍̙̏͝ͅ ̷̹̮͘A̸͔̅̌ ̵͖̊̏͗d̷̼̳̈́e̴̡̿̈́m̶̩̈̓o̷̳͍̣͗̀n̸͉͎͋ͅs̶̛̯̯̼̈t̶̻̓̒̚r̸̝͉̽͑å̴̺̺̝t̸͖̆͒ĭ̷͍̣̟͌͊o̸͕͔̔ͅn̵̖̮̘̈́̈́ ̴̱̈́͋i̵̘̊ś̸̯̘ ̴͒͒ͅf̵̠͎̏o̶̘̠̪̎ṛ̸̢̭̑t̶͉̫̒̈́̈́h̸͍͆c̵̦͝o̵̦͒̅͠m̷̹̥͝i̵̖̹̱̓͘n̴̦̑̎̍g̶̻͊͝…̴̫̭̬̀͠ ̷̼̫̌Ả̴̧̙͎c̸̼͛t̷̜̯̗̆͒ű̸̼͚͠a̷̘̻͗̈́ļ̴̓ļ̶̗͙̉y̷̰͑̈́̂,̸̞̏̾͘ ̴̖̬͘s̸̢̨̯̔͆̓ç̴͙̮̀͑r̷̫̦̝͌a̴̝͗ͅt̸̍̊͜c̷̦̔̄h̸͕̺̀̚͜ ̸̙̺͊̾͜t̴͔̒h̶̺̯͑̏ḁ̶̗̔͆̈́t̸̙̘̍.̷̡͚͒ ̴̥̅͊͝W̴̡̃̀̋ẻ̴̺̿̕'̸̡̛̣̼̃̿v̷̪͂͑é̸̖͖̎̎ ̸̭͋̊n̷̪̄͑o̸̪͂͐̀t̷̺̃̕ͅ ̵͇̓̽̚m̵̭̟̮̈̏̕a̶̯̽͘d̸̨̓̈̋e̷̛̪͉̍̃ ̵̳̞̈́̈́͝a̸̤̙̍͋s̴̜̞̓͒͛ ̴̰̳̣̀m̸͖͌̂a̵̩̳̭̚̕n̵̡̟̪͑ý̵̘̝̰̓ ̸͔͎̫͑̇̑s̷̫̓̕ţ̷̱̉͗͜͝ṟ̵͓͇͝i̸̛̤͂̕d̴̤̯́è̷̞̪̹͗s̶͈̖̜͛ ̸̭͈̖̚ä̵̙̪̥́͝s̶̰̱̑̃͝ ̷̘̘̳̌͠I̸̧͙̻̔́'̸̳͗̉d̴̙̺͋͂̚ ̵̙̬̬̂̓h̵͕̳̦́̚̚ō̶̻̏̌p̷̖̽̄ē̶͎̠̆d̸̮͙̆͘ ̷̥͍͋f̶̼͊̎͒ò̵̯̥r̵̦͉͗͌̈.̷̰̖̈́́͠ ̷̛̝̆̚T̸̥̈́͝ḥ̵̘̼͒e̵̯͇̪̽̇̔ geth a̵̪̽̌r̵̡̬̯̉e̶̟̿͊ ̵̡̿ù̵̞̙̭ṇ̷̼̾͝u̷̱͘s̸̢̼̝̐̎u̸̯͋à̷͖̬̦̋ḽ̸̭̯͛l̶̠͋̎͌ỵ̶̢̂͌͜ ̶̛̛̭̘̾r̴͓̗̉̄̊e̶̱̳̻͌̃s̵͗͂ͅỉ̸͉͍͔̔s̸̥̊̽̓t̶̗̃a̷̫̭͝ͅń̶̝̜̀͝ẗ̷͚́̉ ̶̨̻̞̽͂ẗ̵͓̹́̈̀ó̵͉͎͔̉̆ ̶̊̔ͅọ̴̢̞̅̽̕u̷̠̯̽̍r̴̦̺͑̒͂ ̷̺͈̹͐̆̽m̵̧̒͘a̶͇̹̥͌n̶͕̓͛y̶̱̪͙͂͛ ̵̖̆̈́͘t̵̡͕̲̄͌r̶̭̠̥̈į̸̬͂a̶͍̎̏l̴̝͠s̶̭̒̑ ̵̺̲̟̾a̵̞͛̀͘ń̶͚ͅd̸̨̰͒ ̷̨̼́̓ā̸̩t̵̼͎̓̃͝ť̵͚̀̈́ḛ̴̩͚̉̽̏m̷̢͕͋p̶̡̄͝t̸͓̻̟̆ś̵̫̹.̷͔̲̎̒ ̶̰̺̉Ẃ̶̦͠é̷̱̤̂͝'̷̭͕̍̂̊v̶̰̌̚ë̴̮̫́͑ ̴͎̍͆̓t̶̬͙̆̈́̋r̷̜̋i̶͍͐̇e̷̦̐d̷̹͋͂ ̶̭̭͋͐̀a̵̞̱͋̕͜l̸̝͚̈́͝͝l̶̩̏̏͝ ̴͕͙̎̉̓m̵̙̂̚͜â̵̘̹̻̽n̶͚̋͐ņ̸̲̊̊̇ẻ̸̜͎̕͜r̵̫͚̔͑͌ͅ ̷͓̓͐̚ȏ̴̹̇f̵̲͎̀̚ ̴͇̠͌̈ṿ̴͓̺̑a̸͉͂r̴̛͙̰̮̾̈́ỉ̶̢̎a̸̼̠̿̈́̀t̵̳̿̾ȋ̴͎̳õ̴̭̝n̷͖̹̱̎̎ṣ̸̮͚͗́̉…̴͕̇y̶̳̒̕e̷͕̥̊͒̓t̴̥̀͊̑ ̴̤̩͓̇̂n̵̩͙̆̔̓ö̸̡̻̉ṉ̵͙̗͗̀́ȩ̶̼͐ ̷̩͌͘͝ò̵͔̝ḟ̸͔͋ ̶͙͌̾̕t̶̠́h̶̛̖̪͛̃e̵̮̿̕m̴̨̙͕̒̆͠ ̶͕͚͆̌ȟ̴̞͂͜ȁ̶̭͑́ṽ̸̤̪͉̕ḙ̴͓̂͒̃ ̵̧͓̚m̶̗̊ă̸̤̚͘n̸͓̓͝͝ạ̶̌g̴̱̯͊͗͑e̷͈̋d̶̲͗ ̶̩̯̼̋̿t̷̞͔̬̄̂ő̴̦̜̌̄ ̶̦̍́̂s̵̖̠̿͠ţ̵̋͋͝î̸̦c̷̙̺͘k̴̳̬̖̂̓.̶͉̅̇̄ ̸̩͍̑̅I̷̢̼̩̅̀t̶̺̩̍͑ͅ'̸̩̳̠͐s̸̭̥̔ ̵͓̯͗ą̵̧͝s̶̢̬͖̓̈́͆ ̶̱̃̃͘í̶͙̜̓̕f̵̪̂ ̶̗̣͇̍͆̈́ṱ̵̹̂h̴̡̅̚é̷̯̊͘y̸̬̌̿͘͜'̵̟̩͒̒v̸̯̣͇̽͒͛e̵̮͚̾͛ ̷̠̄b̸̺̣̹̽̊u̴̳͌i̶̮̇l̶̡͌͝t̷̟͉̐̕ ̸̊̂͜s̴͖͒̊o̷͕̥̓m̷̨̻̎̏͠e̴̖̪̔̓̑ ̵̠͑̂̚r̷̳̣̣̎̉͌e̸̢̗̺͑s̵͎̲͌͂i̷̢̢̲̎̃̈s̶̙͚̩̀͊t̶̟̝͙̒̒͆a̷̮͋̆n̷̨̗̥̄c̷͖͇̘̊͋e̵͙͛ ̸̨̭̈́̈́̕t̶̨̅ò̶͇̰̓͝ ̸̨̱̜̏ü̸͙͔s̸̚͜,̶̖̉̂ ̶͈̏t̶͎̘̫̒́̔o̸͇̣͕̾̈ ̸̮̍a̴̜̐n̸͐͘͜y̴͖̎ outside influences w̴̱͆ḧ̶̥́̎͑a̵̺͐ẗ̴͍́̉s̵̥̰̉ó̷̲̐̈ḛ̸̗̈͗͠v̶̠̺̭̂̓ë̷̺̆r̸̹̼͐.̵̖̬͗̍ ̴̱̺̓ͅS̸̠̹̣͐ẗ̶͕̣́ȑ̶̰a̶͉̪̝̋n̸̠̫̈́g̸̳̉ȅ̴͇͔͇̒͊…̸̧̑̄"

Shepard had shut her eyes. She looked dangerously close to falling unconscious. Barely, just barely did she force herself to stay awake, breathing harder than normal. Her attempts could have failed at any time, at any moment. Shepard had made herself clear to me earlier. She no longer trusted Miranda. She did not want Miranda to take over in a situation like this. That was my job instead. But only if I asserted my authority. Only if I made myself known. Only if I revealed the truth, our languages notwithstanding.

Aria spotted this crisis about me. She found it in my eyes. Perhaps she joined me in my crisis, holding Shepard as she did. Oblivious to our wordless communications, Miranda took a moment longer to scout around. All while Aria kept this deep eye contact with me. Deep with the weight of her warnings—she wondered what I would do. She wondered if I would speak up. Or if I would say nothing instead. I could imagine Miranda's reaction. Her possibly violent reaction over such a mutiny. If I challenged this last bastion—Miranda's pride as Shepard's right hand—then I risked keeping Shepard in pain for too long.

Taking a deep breath, I made my decision.

Miranda ordered, "C̵̡̰̜̉ơ̸̲̼m̷̠̥̈́͒e̶͍͚͛̅ ̴̧̛̟͍̀ò̴͈̈́̕n̴̞͇̐,̵̡̓̆̊ ̷̡̃̑l̴̥̜͒̚ę̸̣́͊͊ͅẗ̴̩̫́͆̚'̴̬͚̚s̸̰̦͘ ̷̢̘́̀͘g̵̙̓̐ö̴͓̙̺́̓͠.̷̢̜̏̅͂ ̸̣̊̃W̶̼̾͠e̸̱̘̓̿ ̸̢͉͍̐̿n̷͋͠ͅȩ̵͉̌̂̉e̷̊͐̚͜d̵͇͓͎̿̏ ̶̛͈̳̌́t̴͕̣͖̃o̶̱͐ ̶̙̱̇̽̕f̴̛͎̂͒i̸͙̰̊́̍n̶͔̳̄̆d̴͓̈́͝ ̷̱̺̝̈̾t̵̗̘̄h̷̢̼̬̍̾̿ȧ̶̡t̴̠̉̄̇͜ ̶̱͙̑̑̓t̷̢͕̱͗r̵̙̰̹͝a̵̫̳̿n̵͎̓s̶̢̪̿̍͂m̵̡͇̟̽̈́͗i̴̦̙̗̍͘s̵͍̠̒̏͌ͅṡ̵͖̥̘î̸̬̘̖̑͛o̴͓̹͂̀̾͜n̵͚͕̱̑̈́ ̵̢̙̥͒̕d̵̹̣̈i̶̞͐͋̏s̷̠̊̐̓ḩ̴̈́.̶̛͖̈ ̸̞̩͐L̷̡̳̤͝e̴̢̟̘̿̋̀t̸̪̩̥͌̃'̷̢̩̜̈̋s̵̙̀̑ͅ ̶̥͔̈́̃̔ͅs̴͎̓̽͘h̸̛̩͌ȕ̸̥͂̆ẗ̸̯̲͙͊͋ ̸̮͗i̴̛̳̘̓͜t̴̢̲̃̓̉ ̴͚̾̆d̶̤̔́͝ͅỏ̷̱͔w̶͈̹͔̉̅n̵͔͌͋̿ͅ.̷̘̕"

She gestured for us to follow her.

I resigned myself to following her orders.

Aria picked Shepard up, carrying her along. Following as well.

Returning to my side, she whispered to me, "Well done, Little Liara."

And so we continued onward, allowing Miranda to believe in these lies for a little while longer.

Down the hall, we reached a wide room, the long window at the fore open to the pastel sunlight. A series of monitors and panels took up the space right by the window. Several Cerberus scientists lay dead across the floor—in the shadows, in the sunlight. Several schematics for the transmission dish showed in plain view, transposed as orange over the window. Near the center of the space, we found a control panel for the dish itself. While we couldn't outright destroy the structure from here, we could at least retract it, lowering the dish for us to access on-foot.

Still nestled in Aria's hold, Shepard opened her greened eyes, briefly, before closing them again.

Miranda pressed the button to retract the dish. We watched the largesse of those moving parts, lowering to a much more manageable height. Once it stopped, the entirety of Hermes Station rumbled in an earthquake-light reaction, before settling back down. The overhead announcement called out:

"System error. Ý̴̮̈́ȯ̶͙̤ų̸̘̔ ̵̱̦̱̈́̇̆s̴̜̮̞̽ȟ̵̢̭͚ô̴̪̝̍̽u̵͇̤͊l̸̬̣͇̉̽d̷̪̊̿͝ ̶͎͎͎̀̂n̷̛̲͆ơ̵͖̋͐t̸̩̳͉͗̊ ̵̣̙̲̏̌͒b̷̡͆͘ȩ̸͉̅͜ ̴̳͛ĥ̵̢̘̰̓e̵̡͉̻̋̌r̵̭̈́̆é̴͖͓͆͜.̴͖̹̬̅ ̸̨̩̠̕̚̕Ṉ̴̪̎ǒ̶̡̳̙͗͗ ̸͔̗̤͆͌̐o̵̰͑͒ͅń̵̦͓é̶̼ ̶̝̉ī̸̳͔̕ș̸̪͐̆ ̴̼̊̚ś̶̘̝̠ū̵̗̘̩͂̓p̶͉͂͐͘p̴̖̒̈́o̶̦̙̪͑̍͑s̷̖͈̹̎̄ê̴͕͒̈́͜d̴̬͑̾͝ ̷̬̣̤̈́t̵̰̆͐ợ̴̛͝ ̸̣̩̮̇b̶̤̫͍̐e̷͎͌̉ ̵̺̅h̷̟͛͠e̴̬͍̖̚r̵̢̪̠̒e̴̞̙͈̔͂.̸͈̝͑̑͂"

The rogue VI's likeness colonized the screen, once again howling at us in a sudden, sharp loudness.

Miranda hurried away from that noise. "I̷͕͒ ̸̡̅͝s̵͇̕ͅw̶̤̱̓ẹ̷̡͖̔͘ȁ̴̹̟̚r̴̢̥̲͒̒̊ ̸̮̩͐̔̊Ǐ̶͈̲'̴̪̀͝m̴͎͂̅̕ ̸͔̋ǧ̶̘͚́ŏ̸̫ḭ̶͛̋n̶̰̜͂̄g̸͚͗̃ ̷̯̇ţ̸̰́̀o̵̪̔͘ ̵͍͖̂̕ş̷̫̤̍͂ṯ̵͠r̵̩͊ạ̴͖͗n̴̞̤̠͐͋̈́g̸͙̤̥͊l̵̖̈́̀ͅế̴̜͘ ̷̹͐̇̿͜ţ̵͚͑ḩ̸͝i̸̬̣̎͝͝s̶͙͑̇ ̵̭͌̈́̑d̷̢̯͛a̵̙͎̓m̶̼̂͊n̷͖̠̈́͂̒e̶̞̟̎́d̸̯̮͛̕̕ ̴̗́͐̍t̴̜̗̫̓̈́̏h̵̅ͅi̵̧̫͑̐͂n̶̰͗̒ǵ̸̳.̸̳̻̈́"

Before we left the area, she played another one of Dr. Archer's logs:

"M̸̲̲̄̀͌e̸̤̬̩̾͊̚m̶̺̣̋̑̉o̴̤̯͚̿ ̸̙͙̽̒͠t̵̢̰̩́͊̓ò̸͉̱͖̀ ̵͕͉̉́̄a̴̜͒͝l̵̢̘͗̿l̸̜̫͋ ̵̜̝̄̚͝p̴̖̓̀̅r̵̜͋o̵̱̅̍j̴͚̩̋ḙ̴̹͖͒̏c̷̱̓͠t̴̬̜̓ ̶̤̻͗p̴̨̤̽̒̿ḙ̶͉̽r̶̥̮̻̓̀s̵̙̅̈́̚o̵͕̓̔̋ń̸̖̍n̸̪̈͐e̴̫̤̤̍͋̀ĺ̴̮̺:̷͎̬̌͒ ̸̦̙̈̕ͅÌ̵̞̯̲̌̅ ̸̛̭̺̬͑̇u̷̬̫͎͐n̴̪̗̫͌d̵̫̕e̴̠̜͒r̵̥͐̐s̵̼̈́̊͝t̴̘̏͐ͅa̷̺̭͒͋ṋ̵̼́̈ḑ̸͝ ̵̻̘͍̓t̴̞̙̀̅̓h̴̻̘̾͂ê̴͙̪̚ŕ̷͓̈́ȇ̷͙̚͠'̸̖̳̺̐ś̸͖̲̭̐̕ ̵̡̓̅̚s̵̤̪̓͘͝o̷̳̗̦̔̂͒m̴̩̗̹̋̈͗e̵̺̊ ̵͉̱̂ͅc̵̢̀͊̍ó̴̬̰̣͋n̴̡͘c̵͕͝ḛ̴̛̂̿r̶͖̳̃̃̄n̷͇̗̄̀ ̴̼͎̌ạ̷̺̃̀b̵͔̦͓̋̃ö̸̖́̑̈́͜ǘ̶̡͚͒̚t̷͍̠̑̒ ̷̮̳́͛͜h̴̗̋ą̸̟̰̀ṋ̶͈͈͊d̴̞͙̮̈́́l̸̗̺͆i̷̭̋̿̉n̵̺̿g̷̰̫͂ ̸̺̮̞͊̎l̶̫͊̚ĭ̸̢̩̳͆͠v̵̛̱̪ę̷͙̉ geth. Í̷̤͗ ̵̢̳̄ǎ̴̱̜̮ǵ̴̟r̷̼̐e̷͓̋̔e̵̘̼̳̊͋ ̵͎̲̞̓i̵̖͆t̶̡̛͚͊͂'̶̩̈́̆s̸̬̼̗̀̎̍ ̵̮̪̫́͝ą̸̛̹̘̌̈ ̸̱͓̌̀͘r̵͈̓͠ḯ̸̯̹̬s̶̟̍̆k̷̟̪̱̍̒,̸̙̔̍ ̵̥͚́̔b̷̤̋̌͘ų̷̾ͅť̵̛̙͓ ̶̖̀̊t̸͉͕̗͛͊h̶͖̑̌ȅ̸̟͗ ̷̨̮͕͆p̷̩̥̓ô̷̤̞t̷͍̿̍e̵̱͓̐͊n̵̩̓̈́̀ṱ̴̤͍͘i̶͇̬̼͘a̵̹̼͆̀̈́l̸̪̻̎͌ ̷̙͝r̴͓̾é̵̝̯w̶͔̐̉ͅa̷̼͔͑̚r̷͕̚͜d̷͈̋ ̷̘̹͍͋͆͆į̴͐͊s̴̛̫͆͝ ̸̭̑f̸̖̈́̑̂ä̷̧͖̀r̶̝͎̱̒̾ ̶͎̃ģ̴̜͂̋̂r̷͈̄e̴͙̋a̶̞͈̼͗̈́t̵̮̃̃e̵̡̗͌̄͆͜r̸̺͙̔.̷̳̆͆̎ ̶̥͋S̷͇͙͔̃o̶̦͒͒m̵̘̱͗͋ẽ̵͔̻̄͝d̷̜̤̊̕a̷͈̔̏ͅy̶̟̌́̒,̴̡̾̓ ̸͖̓̈͘y̷͓̜̒̾͐ȯ̴̹̝̲ǘ̴̧̉̃r̵̠̫̒͒ͅ ̶̝̐͛s̷͖̙̃õ̷̳̩͂͐n̷̹͉̟͛́̀s̶͙̦͆ ̵̜̯͌̈͂a̴̤̤̯͐ṇ̷͒ď̸̲͋̄ ̸̞̭͐̔d̶̨̾͊a̵͔̍u̶̙̬̐͊g̴͉͇͈͂͂ḩ̸̩̬̌́t̷̝̀ͅe̸̢̝͌̉͠r̸͎̘͐̃s̸͓̺̾ ̶̳͓͉́͝w̵͇͂ḯ̷̞l̸͔͚͛l̵̼̈ͅ thank you."

Whatever the doctor had said, Miranda muttered in what sounded like disapproval.

She then led us to another door, taking us downstairs through a darkened hallway. The rogue VI continued to watch us along the monitors, the eerie shapes of its eyes forming up above our heads. That unintelligible noise followed us into the next room—another lobby of sorts—with more corpses strewn across the floor, and still others doubled over the railing around the perimeter.

"T̵͈͖̏̅͒h̵͔̬̆͒̉͜i̶̡͎̟͒̌̓s̷̛͈̱̠̅̈́ ̵̫͊̀į̵̣̔s̸̨̢̊̈̓ͅ ̶̡͈̑͝͠a̷͙̗̅̚n̵̢͐̍̏ ̸̛̼͙́a̵̻̼̲͒̇̎u̴͙͙͐t̶̲̦͌͠ͅợ̸͔̥̈́̊m̵͙̈́͋̉ä̶͈̭́̃̅t̴̥̪̍e̵͖̣̤̓̋d̴̈́͋͝ͅ ̷̧̌̋̄͜ŝ̸͈͍̈͌ȇ̷̪͊c̶͈̤̪̿u̷̢̹̤̿r̸͇̀̀̔i̶̥̩̋t̴͔̮̭͂̕ÿ̸̨̻̹́̄ ̷̥̄̂̑ů̴͎̘̇p̸̻̓͝d̴̬̰̏͝à̷̼̐t̸̠̘̂ẹ̸̃̓͠.̷͈̣̹́ ̵̨̬̈́̉̓M̵̰͈̌̔ͅé̵͍̰c̵͈̖̿̚͝h̷̤͒ ̶͕̫͔̓ạ̶̇̓͝č̵͖͔t̸͕̺̆́̐i̴̧͇͛́v̴̫̞͐̿͜i̷̠̐ͅṯ̶͉̦̀y̷̰̏̎̀ͅ ̶͚̲̔̿ḏ̷͙̉͘e̶̯̫̒̓t̷̘̑̎e̶̫̥̕ĉ̷̳t̴̫͒̿e̶̦̾̽̕d̷̦̾.̵̨͚̣̓ All your base are belong to us."

Down another set of silver staircases, Miranda brought us to a large cafeteria center. A fine view of the dawn beamed in through the upper windows. All manner of stairs wound around the area, leading up to peaceful lounges, and down to the cafeteria proper. Staring through to the cafeteria on the ground level, Miranda drew her weapon, spotting several LOKI mechs there waiting for us. Those greened eyes of theirs spoke of their infections from the rogue VI. They lumbered toward us, fully intending to kill.

Aria retreated with Shepard around the corner.

I pressed ahead with Miranda at her beckoning, shooting at the mechs. Such poor cover in this area, with only these waist-high railings to shield us—Miranda and I couldn't rely on them. Not for very long. And not with all the gunfire spraying out from above our heads, on the upper level. We looked to one another, not bothering to use our words to communicate. I sent out as many singularity fields as I could, clustering these groups of unshielded, unarmored mechs. As they hovered helplessly in the air, Miranda detonated back-to-blasts with her warp strikes. Biotic explosions one after the other. Shattered glass cascading everywhere. Structural damage eroding the room's very foundations. The faint fires blazing in the corner grew worse, rising higher to the ceiling. They spread wider, catching the mechs unawares.

"Today's lunch special i̸͚̿̓s̵͔̈́͒ [unintelligible] f̵͈̮̉̑ȉ̵̞̤̅l̸͖̂͑l̸̰̟͋͑̉e̸̩̯̺͂t̶̠̍͑̑ ̸̰̽̎̾ẃ̴͙̥͑̈́i̴͎̠͋̉t̸̰̀̎͌ḥ̵̖̀ ̷̥̫̖̏̇̾a̴͓͕̝̍̽ ̸̲̃̈́̕s̷̙̜̪͌͋̀i̴̘͑d̵̼̺̝̕e̷̯̻͆ ̸͕͉̞̄o̸̲̖̓͊͠f̵̛̖͎̀̀ [unintelligible] ȩ̸͉͓̅g̴̫̣̺̀g̷͔̽ salad. I̶͍̤͑̏̚ ̴̡͖͕͒d̴͔͔̫͌ǫ̴͙͘͘͠ ̸̢̺͖̋͆͝n̷̥̠̄o̴̧̤̫͗́̚t̷̙̿ ̴̱̀ẗ̵̗͂͌r̷̲̅̕u̷̮̾s̸̜͇͍̃t̴͇̦̐͂̌ ̷̝̬̭̓y̷̛͔̪͓̅̿ǫ̴͚̌̿u̷̩͛̉͑ ̷̡̛̣̌t̶̥̰̙́o̶͚͌͝ ̶̟̘̱̍s̸̬̻̽͜t̸̳̞̩͌̉͛a̷͓̰̪̓͑y̷̜̳͆̌ ̷̖̃f̵̲̗́ó̸̭̪ṟ̴̟̐̕ ̵̻̳̽̐t̵͔̬̤̾͌h̴͚͆͛ĕ̶̟̿͛ ̷̲͇͍̈́̓f̸̢̩̈͂u̸͇̣̼̿̕l̶̗̙̓͒͝l̴̺͎͒́͐ ̵̨̻̳̋͗m̸̢̆ȩ̵̱̪̈́a̸̜̓̀l̶͎͂͝ ̵̫͗͋͘I̵͓̔̈ ̶̡͕̅́ͅa̸͈̍̋͌m̵̧̪̓̑͜ ̵̖̉̏̈́p̵̨̖̥͛̍ȑ̶̥̇e̴̤̬͘p̵͇̳͉̽a̷͖̮̠̓̕͝r̵̝͂͠i̴͕̪͙͑͒͝n̸̙̱̠̋̓̾g̴̰̹̐́̈́.̷͉͙͇͑ ̵̯͉̆̕Y̶̜̙̏̊o̴̻͖͂́u̷͓̱̿ ̶̺͔̒͛͗á̸̺̄́r̶̛̺̆͒e̶̥͎̪̓̚ ̶̡̳̱̈̔ą̴͔̣̂̓͗ ̴̥̻̇̀̎t̴̮̒̿̊o̷̤͗ų̷̰̯̽̆͋r̷̦̩̥̄̑̂i̴̹̦̻̽͝͠s̷͎͒͘͠t̸͖̳͑.̷̗̰̔ͅ ̸͉͖͖͑͗͒O̷͎͓͐ń̴̥̖͚c̵̬̪͛͌̆e̴̹͊ ̵͕̲̠̈́͝ŷ̴̭̹̄́o̸̠̊̈́͗ṵ̵͗ ̴̱̣̀ã̷̦̥̪ř̶̳͓̐͊e̵̲̲̓̈́̏ ̶̬͍̇̐͝s̵̛̩̎á̶̭̖͋t̸̡͚̦̏í̴̙s̸̡̥̹̀f̶̨̦̤̒̎į̸́͝e̵̯͔̾̆͘d̷̡͋̏̒,̵̭̦̝̀͠ ̴̩̫̳̏̈́̚ý̷̙̬͎̇ŏ̶̱̱u̷̟̪̭̒̎ ̸̺̈w̸͈̟͛͐͝i̵͚̊̚ḽ̶̠̹̇̔͛l̷̟͑́ͅ ̷̼͕̲͝s̵̢̆̅ͅi̵̧̬͖͋͗̃m̸̯͆p̸̢̹̱̔̾́l̶̡̬̝̎̊ỳ̵̬̌ ̴̝͔̯̈́l̸̨̬̯̑͊͋e̴͇͚̕ȁ̶̭v̸̨͔̅e̵͓̍ ̸̧̿͑ẘ̸̤͛ǐ̶̗͙̂̊ͅt̶̤̿͆͗h̵͈̘̖͐̉ ̸͈͓͝a̷̧̫̼̓̓l̴̘͑͜ḷ̸̈́ ̵̡́̀t̴͋̈́͜h̸͖̋̓ë̴̻̭́̚͝ ̴̛͎̓̿r̸̘͛̾e̴̪̎̔̕s̵̛̻̪̍̒ť̸̤̫̐.̴̱͘ ̴̗̹̌̊ͅT̴̼̭̆ḫ̵͑̂i̸̳̲͋s̴̜̦̏̚ ̸̥̼̽͘̕i̸͙̰͙͋s̶̮̮̎͑̄ ̷̤̪̇n̷̺̻͚̒o̶̜̾̋t̵̩̺̀ ̶̛̺͔͖́̒a̴̻͂̃ ̵̰̍̌͛s̵̩̒̃o̵̹̝̣̎͘u̴̺̼̾v̷̲̙̙̾e̷̢͂͌̒n̶͚̋́̓î̷͉̃̎r̴̹̭̞̿̎̍ ̶͎͛̿͝ś̴̱h̶͇̮͘͜͠͠o̶̼͐͒̀p̵͈̱̙̄͠.̵̨͐̀̕ ̶̡̜̐T̷͉͓͆ḧ̴̺̪̑̅ḭ̶͈̋͋̊͜s̸̯̋͌͘ ̵̙̊̚͝í̶̯͆͘͜s̷̳̕ ̷̲̑̿́n̷̛̰̰̗͑͘o̷̮̯̔̈̆ṯ̶̝͂̊̍ ̶͍̠̊̽͑a̵̝͓͛ ̷̪͉̾m̷͉̲͉͆u̶̳̮͋̚͝s̶͖̰̍ę̶̙̀̂̎ǔ̴̡̟̍̚m̵̢̒̓̍.̵͉̺̃ ̷̖̟̅T̵̡̛̞h̸͈̮̤̏̄̓ì̴̦̋̇s̷̯̟͂̕͝ ̶̺͌͆̒í̸̖̪͛s̸̲̃ ̵̺́͋m̴̤͙̓ͅỳ̶͚͓̥ ̵̰̑l̸̢̛͓̅̔ḯ̴̡v̴̩͚̙̐ë̷̟̾͝l̸̹̳̟̍͝i̵͈̪̯͗ẖ̵̼̩͑o̴̧̙̿ȯ̷͖̫̈́͝d̵̼̯͑.̵̫̑̂̕ ̵̳͓͘A̸̞̟͇̍̉̕ṋ̷̮̐ḏ̴̏͠ ̷͖͉̭̈́̐y̷̡̔̾ȯ̴̰̭̎͝u̵̡͇͘ ̸̩̙̈́ą̷̣̥̂̏̽r̵̢͖͐e̵͉̩̻̕ ̷̯͖͍̈́̕h̶̞̞̰̊͛̾ȅ̷̺̅r̸͍̍̂e̷͍͉̋͑͋ ̴̲̈́t̷͎̲̜̀͌̕o̶̘̝͋͂ ̴͎͓̈́j̶̫͙̽u̷͍̩̔͛d̴͈̎͘g̴̳̽ͅĕ̷̹̼̬͆ ̵͙͆͗m̵̲͉͋̿̀e̸͓̥͗,̷̧̄ ̶̢͉͆̕ͅt̸̢̩̑͝ó̴̹̬͒̚ ̸̖̊̀̎ȯ̸̼͆͐ḅ̷̖̯̾s̷̬͇̅̽͝ȩ̸͇̟͆ŗ̷̫̤̇v̸̥̺̠̚ë̷̢́;̶͇͈̺͂͒̐ ̷͇̺̘͐̕t̶͙̗͐o̸̜͎̮͆ ̵͖̗̿f̵̞͗i̶̫͚̚ṅ̵̨͎̮̅̾d̵͍̈́͘̕ ̵̰̯̊͗͌ÿ̴̮̭́͑͌͜ǒ̷̺̏̓ṷ̷̱̀̍͝ṟ̷̈́̆̄ ̷̢̺̘̾d̶̛͉̔e̶͕̫̝̾s̸͔̠̬̓p̶̰̅̿e̷̩̍̿͝r̶͈̈́a̸̚͜ṫ̴̮̅̕ḙ̸͘ ̷͙͛̈́ͅe̴̤̫̼̍s̵̬͂ć̷̗̚a̴̢̛̫͘͝p̸͖̗̂̿e̶͕͓͗ ̶̤̄̏̈f̸̯̩̓͂͘r̷̲̣͈̊̈o̸̼̗̾̿̕m̸̖͝ ̵̨̍̍͝y̸̹̱̐͒̚ó̵͔̅̀u̷͚͐̒ŕ̶̼̯ ̵̮̠́̂m̷̲͈̯͋i̷̳͖̅̃͜ś̷͙ȇ̵͇̭͋̋r̸͉̫̟̀ă̵̘̤̊b̵̘̎̎l̸̯̯̙̅͠e̴͇̥̮̾̑ ̴̟͉̿̚ĺ̷̨͙͂i̴̝̥̿͊̈́f̷̛͈͕̌e̵͓̯͙̅͊.̸̰͎̟̐͌̕ ̵͚̞͕̆̋͝W̴͎̐̎͒h̴̢̥̦͠a̵̡̱̝̾t̴͙͍̅ ̶͕͙͆p̸̥͗r̷̪̬͗̀̄ì̴̞͕v̶̲̙̈́i̵̝̅̒l̵͚̝͖̃̈́ę̷͔̗̆g̸̭͊̓̅é̴̪.̶̊͜"

Fleeing those flames, Miranda led me upstairs. Aria strengthened her kinetic barriers—surrounding both her own form and Shepard's—following after us. Crossfire shot at us from across the way on this level. Miranda and I reached our biotics well across the way, quickly disposing of those mechs. Aria retreated with Shepard into the small dormitory behind us. She found another one of Dr. Archer's logs, playing it for at least Miranda to understand. His words filled the space around us, jumbling with the sights—the stronger, reddened orange of the morning, blued by the haze of our biotics misting across the level.

"Memo to all project personnel: Ċ̴͚̥͋́o̸̻̘͝n̴͎̓͠g̸̲̿r̶͓͎͐a̷̭̳͝t̸̝͖͒ù̵̬̮̣̂͝l̴͚̘̻̀̈́͌a̷̹̐̀͝t̸͚̻̻͒̇i̸͕̣̞̽̀̐o̵̠̱̚ǹ̵̬̼̀ͅs̸̮̫͑́͠ ̵̲̀o̵̰̱̤̓̃n̷̳̼̈́ ̴͙͒̈y̸̡̧̻͆̏́o̷̱̓͜u̷̫̜͜͝r̸̯̖͠ ̷̺̣̉̀͝h̶̢͗͘͝a̴̟̠̪̅̋̄r̸̬̈̉̓d̵̻̼̩̄̅̍ ̴̥̥̆͜w̴͎̯̭̋͠o̵̻͈̓r̷̨͊k̷̻̜̮̍.̶̢͙́̊ ̴͓͐Ḯ̴͇̈́̈ ̷̛̫͜ͅḱ̵͙̭̮̄͝n̶͈̹̓ò̸̢̦́w̷̨̻͇̅ ̸̪̽y̵͉̋̚͝ơ̵͉̙̔ų̶͚̖̑ ̵̺̭̉͛̈h̶̟̲͒̚ͅḁ̸̯͗̒̀v̴͚͔͛̕ȇ̷̖̼͇̓͝ ̷͖̟͙͠b̸̞̃͐e̶͚͛è̶͌̌ͅṋ̸̨͒̎ ̴̺̥̲̉f̷̱̻̒̽̇r̴̫̋̒ṳ̷̈́ş̶̖̽̌͂t̴̛͓̹̗̽r̸̪̪̝̾͌a̷͓̖̍̔t̴̰̦̳̑̉̓ȇ̸̻̰͖̇̍d̷͚̦̈̇.̵͙̻̋̒͗ ̶̤̫̯͒I̴͔̘̽͐ ̵̡̩͠͝k̵͚͍̜͂́͠ņ̴̯̲͆͑o̵̱̅ͅẃ̵͈̳ ̷͇̀̔y̵̪̝͐̚ȯ̵͔ū̶͎̝̕ ̷̗͙̭̌̌h̷̨̛̛̗̦̎ä̸̯͉̞͗̕v̵̫̈̅é̸̩̰̤͝ ̶̣̦͉͋̆f̷̤̪͒ͅe̷̛̟̕l̵͍̍ẗ̵̬́ ̸̥́t̴͇̓ḧ̷͎́̍͝é̶̛̞͉̃r̷͕̣̯̾́ȩ̶̃ ̶̯̦͗̔i̴̤̐s̶̳̤͐͋ ̴̹̈́̀n̵̨̺͇͋̂̔o̸̠̬̅ ̴͔̈̈́è̸̟̙̈́n̵̗̞̯̑d̴̢̲̦̎͊̓ ̵̠͎̩́í̷̹n̴̢̟̱̾̿͊ ̴̝̤̇̐s̸̫̪̲͝i̷̫̗̩̇g̶̃̊͜ẖ̴̭͊͋́t̶̨̞̍̚͠.̸̲͔̓ ̵̢͍͌́̓B̶̪̐͊̂u̸̪̼̔ẗ̴̙́ ̸̧̛̪̫̈̇w̵̰̖̩̽e̵̟̼̔̿͝ ̶͇͕̙͌̎͘n̴̨̜̋̓o̵̱̟̿̆̃w̵̥̟̩̎͘ ̸̡͕̆͜ĥ̵͓̝͎a̷̤̚͝v̶͕̜̉̀̒ë̵͉́̀ ̴̛̠̄a̶͕̹͒ ̴͈̙͕͋͝s̴͔͍͌̅o̶̢̪̲̐̉̚ļ̶̣͘ṳ̶̀t̶̨͙̖͑̈̽i̵̹̋o̷̫̍̎͝n̷͈̠̠̉.̶̠̉ ̷̛̰̣́T̸̞̯̆̈ȏ̸̧̥m̴̲̿̓o̷̦̅r̵͕͖̒͒̿r̶͚̈́o̴̘̪̒́͝w̷̖̝̠̅́͝,̵̤̲̠͐͝ ̷̬̄͜ŵ̴̹è̵̯̓͝ ̶̞̺̇̎̕m̶͉̲͓̏ḁ̵́̈͜k̶̠̿ẽ̶̱̎̓ ̸̤͂t̴͓͙̜̿ḩ̵̤͇͂̈́e̵̥̩͐̓͠ ̶̲̓n̸̮̩̓͒e̴͓͔͒ẍ̵͙̣́̂͠ͅt̸̰͐̓ ̵̥̻̔͊́l̸̨̧͗e̶̻̻͠a̷̮͔͝p̵̦̖̌͘ ̸̟̜̖͆͠f̸̦̏o̵̤͝r̷͓̗̲̅ŵ̶̻̮̈́̽a̴͖̘̻̾r̵̭̓d̸̩̈́̊͠.̷̭̌̒ ̴̰͔̓͒͑I̶͚̒t̴̤̗̿ ̵͈̙̮̆̚͝w̵̮̣̃i̴̙̺̊̂l̷̰̔͊͘ͅl̸̖̭̫̑̍ ̵̢̲̗͒b̴̢͍̄̉́e̶̘͖͂ ̴͚̎̊à̵͍ ̶̩͓̈́͊ǵ̶͓̚r̶̫̒̎ẻ̴̞̏a̶̧̨̰͒t̶̼̑̌̕ ̸͓̞́ḍ̴̪̎̃̿a̵̻͠y̵̨͆̕ ̵͐͜f̶͖̞͔̃̄̚ǒ̵͜r̸̦͈͚͊̽͘ Cerberus, a̵͍͐̐n̷̮̔d̴̖͝ ̶̢̳̘̒͒́a̷̮̝͍̽n̷̡̰̖͒̔ ̵̙̎̌͘e̶̥̰̐v̷̛̪̝̙͋̈́e̸͇͉̯̿ń̴̟̆͊ ̴̭̜̯͑ĝ̴͉͍͕̅͠r̴͉̲͑̾͗ͅe̶̺͗̓ā̶̲̉̀ť̸̰̲̃͗ē̴̱̆̑͜r̸͚̻̊ ̶̫̈͊͠d̶̼̰̝̉̆ä̸̖̔y̴̪̜̗̎̓ for humanity."

We pressed on through the sitting area, past the couches littered with the mechs' remains. Outside the slanted windows, I spotted a long walkway leading to the transmission dish. I made sure Aria stayed after us with Shepard safe in her care. Down yet another set of stairs—again in an unfortified area—too many more mechs poured through the nearest exit. Protecting me, and protecting Shepard behind us, Miranda stayed well ahead. She amped up her shields, taking the brunt of the gunfire. I sent out another singularity field, gathering up the crowd as quickly as I could. I detonated my own explosions, with my own warp, all while Miranda acted as this human shield for me.

Eventually, the mechs stopped their assault.

Miranda forced herself to continue ahead. She took a deep breath, once, before composing herself, leading on. Through this exit, we arrived to a much smaller break area. The scientists here had been shot in the back of the head; shot dead while slumped in their seats. Some kind of music played in the room. Such a haunting tempo—an acoustic guitar, a raw expression of pain. The plain, simple melody scratched on occasion like a broken record, while the lyrics remained unscathed. Or so I assumed, again.

I̴̿ͅ ̸̧̭̖̎g̸̜͓͑͛̚e̶͉͒t̵̛̠̟̪̒a taste
O̸͐͑͜͝f̴̜̤̹̊͛͘blood in my mouth
W̶̩̓͒̑ͅẖ̸̬̄͌͘ê̸̟̝̹̾̚ņ̸͉͕͆ ̸͔͎̟̈́̾ỷ̵̡̥o̷̤̬̽ủ̸̜̺̦͐'̸̩̃̊ř̵̜̞̝ê̴̩ ̷̛̮͒n̵̰͔͗̃e̶͎̊a̷̼͔̮͝r̸̳͎̉̔
A̸̱͝ ̵̪̦͎̓f̶̰͙̝̋̽ę̶͙͇̊͗ę̶͍͙̏l̴̢͙̆i̴̻͘n̴͎͕̿g̶͈̯͝ ̶̲͙͂t̶̩̟̀̾̊h̵̥̙̀͝a̵̛͉͐t̷̟̜̉̽͘'̵͖̞̌̃s̵̫̘͛̎͊ too painful
To bear

For some reason, Miranda turned her head, regarding Aria carrying Shepard behind me.

Aria stared back at her, her patterned brow raised in curiosity.

Yet Miranda soon turned back around. She kept on walking ahead as if nothing had happened.

Beyond this next door, we boarded a large tram. The transparency of this space allowed us a view of the mountains, of Aite's vast horizon stretching on in eternity. A faint river line in the distance was almost parallel with our ride. I focused on that zigzag reflecting the light of the now-late-morning. I focused on it, even as I heard Shepard shifting around in Aria's hold, trying not to cry out in pain again. Aria whispered words to her I could not hear. Shepard managed to calm herself after a moment. Meanwhile, Miranda stayed near the tram's controls, pressing her fist against the surface. Holding her emotions in. Holding her reactions in. Holding them in, holding them in. All to the point where I feared she would soon burst.

Miranda glared her resentments clear through the wall of glass in front of her.

She fixed her stare on Aria behind me. She curled her lips into a sneer. She looked straight past me. Even knowing I made eye contact with her reflection there in the glass. Even knowing I could see her every thought, her every revilement.

After the brief ride, Miranda nearly bolted to the door, leading us down the next hallway.

"À̷̺͕͘ͅr̴̳̗̉̀r̵̯̝͌̾͜ǐ̸̝͌͝v̴͈̞̗̿i̶̞̒͛ṋ̸̐̉͊g̸̯̀͛ ̸̢̛̈͂á̷̻̗͇t̷̞̂̆͗ dish á̸̝̀c̸̯̗̃̌̑ć̷̖̟̠́e̷̊̑͘͜s̴͚̼̯̑͌s̸̘̀͋͆. Attention: Satellite broadcast r̴̩̪̫̎̒͝e̴̤͎͎̕m̸̛̲̘a̶̫̬͝ì̸͎̫̀́n̴͈̼̉̑͋s̴͙̟͓͒ ̶̘̙̂o̴̬̚n̵͎͕̭̉̚g̴̮̊̍ỏ̴̱̥̗i̴͈̘̚ͅn̷̞̗̝͐͋̕g̸̳͔͑͂. All upload data must be a̵̞͙̅p̸̻̦̅͊ṕ̸̦̭̠r̵̙̮͊o̶̭̻̓͠v̴̤̻͑̿̕ȅ̶̜͇̲d̸͍̬̞̔͊̐ by your department supervisor."

Past the hall, we found that long walkway I'd spotted earlier. This black metallic catwalk opened up to the skies, to the unvarnished earth of the sights beyond. The concavity of the transmission dish shaded us from the sunlight. Just across the way was another path leading directly to the transmission dish's base. From that base, we would simply have to continue upward in order to destroy the entire contraption. And even though our path held numerous mechs, Miranda charged ahead anyway. She destroyed the infected synthetic units in her path. Blowing off her understandable steam, she certainly didn't need me. I lagged behind a bit, keeping Aria and Shepard close by. I did hear Aria's faint amusement. She'd started chuckling beneath the sounds of Miranda crushing metal with her biotics.

In following this path, we followed after Aite's two moons looming in the sky.

We followed after Miranda, who'd only stopped to interact with a terminal. She extended the walkway with the press of a button. And then she hurried onward without us, still managing to stay in our view.

"Well, this is nice," quipped Aria as we went along. "She's doing all the work for us, isn't she?"

"Yes, she is… I imagine she is letting out some pent-up anger of hers."

"Probably. Oh—and don't look down. Seems like a pretty long drop."

I almost made the mistake of looking down, despite Aria's warnings. Not even a handrail—nothing but the railing beneath our feet separated us between that fall. Down through the clouded, arid mountains; down to the earth's ground I could not make out, could not fathom from this distance. Even once we made it inside to the base, I did not feel remotely secure. We had a fine illusion of normalcy, progressing through this factory of machinery, with everything around us powering the transmission dish up above. For every broken mech we passed by, a casualty of Miranda's hot-headedness today, I remembered we were not, in fact, anywhere near the earth. Now was not the time for me to discover a fear of heights…

We followed the loud, rattling clangs of Miranda's heels up the central stairwell.

Once we reached the open daylight above the dish, I expected to find Miranda still rampaging on. Yet she had instead stopped to take a breath. She regarded me for a moment, considering, before looking to Aria instead. Aria returned that eye contact, not understanding what it was Miranda wanted. So Miranda gestured to the larger area around us—essentially ordering Aria to deal with the transmission dish on her own. Aghast, Aria glanced around the area—it looked like the support struts each had their own capacitors, which she would need to blow up on her own. All while dealing with the hostile mechs.

Aria gave Miranda a look, much to the effect of, 'Really, bitch?' and yet she could do no more than this. She grumbled to herself, setting Shepard gently down nearby, making sure she could sit up comfortably against a wall. She then charged off on her own, destroying the mechs and those capacitors by herself.

Just as planned, Miranda then went to Shepard's side. She knelt on the ground with her. The two of them shared a one-sided conversation in English. Miranda spoke. Shepard listened, even in her notable pain. I could not understand them, yet I also could not leave them alone. Knowing that Shepard didn't trust Miranda, I chose to monitor the situation. But when Shepard did speak, I managed to decipher some of what she said. Listening to their tones, watching their body language, I filled in the blanks.

"N̷̡̗̹̂o̷͓̮̖͋w̸̙͖͕̏̈ ̵̧̪̑̈̓ţ̴̨̤̆h̵̻̀̇̍à̶̦̫̃͝t̵͇̒̌ this happened to me…y̸͓̖̳̋̅o̵̮͔̣͛̾ú̸̞͙̺͊͊ ̶̺̝̟͌̑̓s̶͇͝ȗ̴̪̮̥͆d̸̺̏d̶͖̓͑̈́ĕ̴̠n̷̥̗̒̓l̶̪̟͕̈́̎y̶̖̣͍͌ ̴͇̓g̸͎̱͜͠i̴͓̪̿͗v̸͚͓͔̄͠ë̶̪̝́̆̕ ̷̲̈́̓a̶͔̾ ̷̱̫̒d̷̪̤̥̾͋a̴̦̼͆̈́͠m̶̞̝̔̎̊n̶̙͝ ̸̜̂͋͌ā̸̝̙͝b̷̭͙̫͗ợ̸̠̥̿ũ̷̯̫̑̿t̵̟̬̱͐̈͗ changing Cerberus?"

"Ĩ̶͚̈́͋ ̴̧̧́̃ḱ̸̹͕n̸͙̜̋̃͠o̷̭͔̯̚w̴̙̾͆͝ ̸̢̩̃͠i̷̱͚̱͒͋t̸͉͕͗'̷͇̊̓̀s̷͉̬̫͒́͝ ̷͚̀̆͒͜ą̷̱̓͒ ̷̰͒p̶̞̎͛͝o̶̳̭̩͊o̴̗͒̿͘r̴̢̛̖̟̈́ excuse. You're the woman I love. I̸̙̬̞͗̈́̏ ̴̰͗c̷̢̫̽͜ȧ̵͉̘͕̂n̸̼̟̐͗'̸̢͔̘̎̈́͠t̶̲͇̕ ̴̼̿̏̚h̶̳̅͊͊ë̶̥l̴̛̼̞̃͛p̷̜̓ ̵̝͔͛́͑i̶̘̣͙͂̊͝t̴̗͍͊̀̕.̸̠͆́ ̵̜̎̐̀ͅY̵̳̪̆̾ó̶̯̥ȗ̵̬͂ ̴̻̀͋̚ą̸͔̆͜r̷̰͓͠ͅe̴̲̭̲͊ ̸͎̀͑ḿ̵̲̒͜͠ͅy̴̰̅͌̈ ̷̤̬̠̿̚ṡ̴̥͕ͅo̴͍̥̽̀n̵͎̂͘̚,̸̫͔̭͋̍̉ Shepard. N̸̼̄o̶̮̱̗̿̕t̴̗̾͘͜ ̴̜̄̂͂h̵̞̳͘e̵̹̩̔̽ř̵͕̫̲̍s̶̲̍̊.̸̬̺͋ ̷̦͉͐͛̕Y̶̌͌͑ͅo̷̹̽̔ũ̵̢̹ ̴̟͖̽b̷̜͎͈̅e̴̦̮̅l̶̡̘̾ơ̵̲͔͍̐n̶͔̰̦̓͛g̴̖̺̱̍͆ ̸̼̼̍̊t̸̺͎̊̃̑o̵̝̞̎ ̶̟̽͑̆m̵̢͈̍̕ȇ̵̯̪.̵̩͐̾ͅͅ ̶̨̹̚͜Y̷͕͝o̴̗͆̊u̴̯̲̅̑̕ ̵̠͋̈́a̷̬̻̪͒r̶̛̳̉̈e̴̜̦̘̒ ̷͔̝̯̂ĩ̶͙̥̱n̵̥̥͕͛́ ̴͙̎̽̚m̶̔͜y̸͈̏́̊ ̸̫͎̇́̃͜į̴̧͇̕m̵̩̈͂̚a̷̡̢͈̽g̸̉̂ͅe̴̼̗̾͗̈.̴͙͖͌͑ Y̷̖̜̲̓̈́̉o̷̥͗͛ų̵̦́'̵͉̣̆̃̎r̵̭̍ę̸̤̳̄̕ ̴̜͑͘t̵͎̊̂͂h̵͎̫͎̃ę̶͌͌ ̵̬̩̩̒̈́͋o̷̪̖̎̐͠ņ̶̪͒l̸̥͕͗y̴͙͓̽̏͝ ̷͉̒o̸̦̣̤͑̓̆n̷̳̭͔̎͒e̸͇̤̿͊̇ ̵̢̣̥̂̀w̵̨̫̆h̸̲̩̠̐̊̚ö̷̝̲̞̍ ̶̬͎̓̎͝c̷̪̒̍͗a̴̠͍̺̿ń̴̂͂͜ ̷̫̓k̷̡͑̑̈́n̷̘̈́̓͆ó̷͇̘͑̚w̴̰̙̑̆ ̴̪̭̊͝m̷̹̎͆͘y̴͙̪̏͠͝ ̴̬̠̃b̸̡̞́o̸̤͕̚͜d̴͔͊̕y̸̲̖̆͋͜ ̶̨͇͓̄̈c̴̝̭̀̚͜o̴̜̝͙̾̌̄m̷̖̄p̷̟̳̻̂͊ĺ̵̻̬͊̓e̷͓̓̃̿t̴͚̞͊̋̂e̵̼̘̿́l̸̫̜̏̓y̷̜̍͛.̴̡̹̞̚ Y̵̮͎̰͌́̓o̶̖̕͝u̷͚͇͇̓̃͘'̵̗̥̉r̵̛͕̭͍̈́̑è̸̟̦͉ ̷͉̪̘͗̇t̶͓͒ḧ̶̠̻̦ẹ̷͔͝ ̶̼̫͉̐͋ố̷̞̙̂n̴̛͙̾͛l̵̪̏y̵̗͉̅ ̸͓̺͗͗̂ơ̴͔͔̲̅̃ņ̴͔̓ͅȩ̷̼͚̋ ̵̧͎̏w̴͙͖̆͘h̸̡̼̾̆̀ͅo̵̹̼̻̕ ̶̺̾̎̚c̸̨̱͒a̴̙̐͝n̸̪͐͊͐ please me ǐ̴͖̿n̶̩͎͙̓͒͝ ̷̯̓̽͠ṱ̵̘̳͠ẖ̷̪̒͜i̷̻̔̑̕ṣ̶̭̗̒̑ ̴̖͓̒f̶͈̙̱̒̋͂û̵̼͈̊c̴̻̽k̶̘͉̇͌ḛ̸͉̬̏͝d̸̞̈́̆̀ ̵̘̼̀̑̚ų̸̼͍́̑p̵͚̉̚ ̵̡̭̯͒w̴̦̽̐a̴̹͓͐̿y̵̝͒͘.̸̺͗ͅ ̵̼̰͑̑͐͜I̷̩͍̤̊'̸͉̔ľ̸̲͇͈́ľ̴̨͉̼̉͒ ̸̻͚͊̉̋n̵̦̱̻̋̈́̓ẽ̵͇̃v̴̻̫̤̋̚ë̸̙͔̽͑r̶̛̮ ̴̭̼̄̃̑f̶̢̭̕ị̵͖̍̎n̴̫͎̋̈́d̴̥̝̿͝ͅ ̶̻̈ͅa̶͎̻̐n̵̝̳̠̍̀̚ŷ̸̩͌͋ơ̴͍̪̬̾n̵͈̮̝̎e̶͇̫͋ ̶͔̭̪̊̓́b̶̨͛e̸̛̫̻̝̓t̷̆̊ͅt̴̤̆e̸̱͋͠r̶̡̰̂̏́ͅ ̷̳̓͐̾t̷̨̝̦͂͌͆h̴̨̪̏̚à̶̛̠͉ņ̵͇͊ ̷̭͇̮͛y̵͈̟͋̉̈́ó̶͇̯͜ù̴͕͖͓́́.̸̱̀̔͋ Ǒ̸͕̖͠n̶͓͖͖̋l̴̻̻̃̂̚y̵̧̰̱͛̂̾ ̷͕̞̞̕I̸͍̝̱̒͂ ̷͔͗̚c̸͍̼̉͜͝a̸̫̒n̴̘̠̉ love you ã̴̖̙͈s̶̢̟̣̈́̿ ̴̨̥̲̅ā̴̢̼͇̅̔ ̶͓͇̀m̸̜̙͛ỏ̶̳t̸̙̯̟̿͂̚h̴̨̯̿͊͠e̷͔͗͒͝ͅr̵̟̤̈́͜ ̷͎̭̗̐̅̾s̸͇̓̍ḩ̸́̿õ̷̯u̵̹̠͔̓ĺ̶̲͍̳̀̓d̵̪͌̆͝."

The absolute shock in Shepard's face—I must have filled in these blanks correctly.

Miranda held Shepard's hand in both of hers. Entirely earnest, she said something similar to, "I'm sorry, Shepard. I'm sorry f̶̙͊̇͝o̷̮̠̟̅r̸̡̲̞̒ ̷͔̆͗͑e̵̝̭̍v̴̟̒é̴̖r̷̝̗̓ÿ̸̺̹́̕ͅţ̷͚̽h̶̖̖̩͛̇̋ḯ̴̲͘n̶̘̲̆ǧ̷̗͎̯̅͘.̴̘͓͊ ̷̣̕I̶̝̜͙͠'̸̗͍͋̏̚l̶̘̆ͅl̸̮͍̏ͅ ̵̦͓̣͊m̵̘̿͋̕ā̶̰͘k̸̺̗̿̾̍e̸̩̔ ̶̡̙̕̚ț̷̑̔ḫ̴̩͛̓͠i̷̦̭͓͊s̷̤͋ ̸̛̫̓u̴̲͎̬͐p̷̼̈ ̷͎̜̿ţ̴̜̬̐́ô̶̜̬͖̚ ̶̧̛̩̠y̷̧̛̰̆̚ō̸̞̭̰̊͝û̴̠͆̈́.̴̞̟̉ ̵̩̬̳̏͘I̶̜͓̬͑'̸͚̿͛ͅm̶͉̬̾̈ ̴͔̜̗̉͌͝n̸͓͙̤̑̋ë̶̲̬̬́̌v̷̭̣̾ë̸͈́̎̈r̵̩̗̆͛̕ ̷͕̩̋̅ǵ̸̟̓͗ȯ̴͚̯ỉ̸̳̅̚ṋ̷͙̈́̓̊g̶̰̙̼̽͂ ̷͇̦͗t̸̖̮͋ŏ̶̬́̆ stop fighting for you."

Whatever else she wished to say, Miranda had to cut it short. Aria had successfully collapsed the transmission dish's foundations. We needed to get out of here. I went over to Shepard immediately, taking her in my arms. Miranda was about to do the same. Such a look of scorn, taken aback. I communicated enough with my eyes: if I didn't do this, and I allowed Miranda to carry Shepard along, then Aria would have killed Miranda and me both. We didn't have time to debate this. Conceding as much, Miranda hurried along. I brought Shepard with me as we escaped the area, jumping back to the walkway we'd crossed before, back to the other side. With the transmission dish destroyed, I expected Shepard would soon return to normal—physically speaking. Yet I knew she would never forget this harrowing experience. She would never forget this pain, this debilitating setback. None of us would.

As soon as our group landed, we all got back to our feet. Shepard included—with some prideful struggling on her end. Her irises had lost that unsettling green, returning to the sunlight I had so missed. She didn't give herself a moment to rest, to regain her bearings. Shepard stood tail again, no matter how disoriented she might have still felt. Moreover, she gave me a simple look. She knew the choice I had made earlier. She knew that I had allowed Miranda to take the lead. I had made that judgment call. And by the small sparkle in her eyes, I could tell she approved. Shepard could not say as much with Miranda still around. But having the commander's silent approval certainly made all the difference.

"I'll take over now, Miranda," she said. "Good work."

Miranda gave her quiet acknowledgment.

Aria fought not to glare at her, or to acknowledge her in any way whatsoever. Miranda's little conversation with Shepard had likely not gone unnoticed.

Disturbing this unrest even more, Dr. Gavin Archer ran over to us.

"Over here!" he cried out.

Miranda stormed over to him, gripping her fists at her sides.

Archer balked, "Oh, dear God… Operator Lawson?! I-Is that you—?"

"What the hell is going on around here?!" she demanded to know. "You were actually trying to control the geth? And when that didn't work out, you unleashed a damn virus onto the extranet?! Tell me this was an accident. Just one huge, terrible mess. Because if it wasn't, you owe us a serious explanation."

"It… It was an accident. This was horrible. Unforgivable. I won't make excuses. Man's reach exceeding his grasp. Please, everyone, follow me. I do still owe you an explanation."

Pacified enough, Miranda willed herself to follow Dr. Archer. Aria and Shepard joined me as we followed along as well. Archer soon brought us back inside the base. Much quieter now, and without that VI haunting every screen and every machine—the project's lone surviving scientist spoke to us freely.

"You have my thanks, Commander Shepard. You and your team bought us some time, though probably not much. This isn't over yet."

Shepard wished to know, "Give us a rundown of this place. What were you doing here?"

"This is Project Overlord. An attempt to gain influence over the geth by interfacing a human mind with a VI. The results have been…less than satisfactory."

Aria muttered under her breath, "No shit."

Archer tried to justify, "I understand your resentments. We thought we would succeed. And we were successful…for a time. The Illusive Man was pleased with our work. He asked to see more progress. But then, a couple of weeks ago or so, everything stalled. Our progress wound up completely reversed. It was as if we hadn't started the project at all."

Privately, Miranda seemed to grapple with what she'd just heard.

No lies, no excuses. No explanations, no justifications. Only the uncomfortable truth laid bare.

"My brother David volunteered to serve as a test subject. But his mind couldn't handle the VI connection. He's like a virus now, infecting our networks and seizing control of any technology he finds. We already saw what happened once his program got off-world. I'm thankful you destroyed the transmission dish. I'm certain you all saved a lot of lives."

Shepard inquired, "How does he take control of electronics? He messed up my implants pretty bad."

Dr. Archer answered, "This is a hybrid intelligence the likes of which I've never seen. I don't know where the man ends and the machine begins. Though I do apologize about your implants, Commander. I am certain David didn't mean to harm you. This is all very much out of his control. Please don't blame him."

"Then what would've happened if we didn't destroy that transmission dish?"

"A technological apocalypse. Every machine, every weapon, every computer could be turned against us. The nearby capital, Andrasteia, already suffered the worst effects. I don't believe the virus had the chance to do anywhere near the same damage off-world. You managed to stop that from happening."

"This project is too dangerous," stated Shepard. "I have a hard time believing no one imagined the worst-case scenario. What the hell were you people thinking?"

"We couldn't be expected to account for every outcome! Certainly not the abomination David has become… My brother—… The VI has fortified itself in the main laboratory at Atlas Station. It's in lockdown now. To enter, you need to manually override security from our facilities in the Prometheus and Vulcan Stations."

"Fine. Explain how the lockdown works."

Archer led us over to a large control panel. The wide, bright orange of the monitor showed the status of Project Overlord's separate laboratories: Hermes Station, Prometheus Station, Vulcan Station, and Atlas Station. "It's a fail-safe procedure in the event of an emergency. Normally, all three project leads have to agree to cancel the lockdown." He activated the override on this panel for Hermes Station. "I'm the only one left now… I can give my authorization, but you'll have to manually reset the other two yourself."

"And once we get to Atlas Station—what happens if I have to kill your brother?"

Dr. Archer wandered over to his desk nearby, sitting in the chair there. Atop the surface was a framed photo of the doctor and his brother, the pair leaning on one another in closeness. The shape of David's features posed a strong resemblance to that digitized green face haunting the station's screens earlier.

Weary in resignation, the doctor merely said, "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

Shepard still needed more information. "Before we go, tell me more about this project. Why did you start it? Why did you think you could control the geth in the first place?"

"We wanted to turn the geth's religious impulse into a weapon. When we saw them following Saren, we realized they could be swayed. All we needed was a proper figurehead for our means. A virus with a face, if you will. Then the geth might be controlled."

"That's an ambitious undertaking. I just don't understand why you needed to control them."

"It would be the perfect weapon," espoused Archer. "Victory without casualties! We could avoid war with the geth altogether. After Eden Prime and the Battle at the Citadel, our colonies have grown wary of another geth attack, another invasion. We wanted to give humanity some peace of mind."

"Then what went wrong with the experiment? You said everything was fine up until a certain point."

"…yes, that's true. We had made significant strides—until roughly two weeks ago. The geth stopped responding to us. They simply left our facilities as if staging a protest, or going on strike. We decided against using force to bring them back. So we attempted to replace them with regular synthetic units."

"Except the mechs turned against you when the virus broke out."

"Sadly, that is correct. David volunteered to interface with the VI. To give it genuine consciousness. Theoretically, it should have been safe, but…with artificial intelligence, there is no such thing as safe."

Shepard rebuffed him, "Then you shouldn't have attempted it."

Dr. Archer argued, "And what if you had never attempted to find the Reapers, Commander Shepard? Where would the galaxy be then? Sometimes you have to ignore the risks."

Cutting, pointed—Miranda spoke Shepard's mind: "That's a false equivalence if I've ever heard one."

"Operator Lawson…I don't expect you to agree. Frankly, I'm still shocked to see you here. Your reputation as the Illusive Man's right hand precedes you. You're something of a legend within Cerberus by now. Whenever you show up onsite, the corresponding project leads can expect their pride and joy to be shut down within the week. Many senior members call you the Grim Reaper of our organization."

"I don't give a damn what people say. Project Overlord has overstepped its bounds. This is far beyond the scope of your original mission. The Illusive Man didn't order me to shut you down. But this is worse than nearly anything I've seen in my entire career. You can expect me to file an immediate report."

Dr. Archer sighed in defeat. "'Filing a report' is only threatening when someone like you says it."

Before Miranda could get too heated, Shepard brought the conversation back to the previous topic: "Tell me more about Vulcan and Prometheus Stations. I need to know what we're up against."

"Vulcan Station is our geothermal plant. It generates power for the four outposts. Prometheus Station is a crashed geth ship full of dormant machines. We use them for our experiments."

"What about Atlas Station?"

"Atlas Station is the main laboratory where all of our VI experiments take place. It's your final goal once you've overridden the lockdown. It's also where my brother…became something else. You won't be able to access Atlas Station until you override the lockdowns from Vulcan and Prometheus Stations. Doesn't matter which one you hit first, but you can't enter Atlas Station until you've dealt with both."

"Understood. We're heading out now."

"The other stations are all within driving distance. Best of luck, Commander."

Leaving the area, our team followed Shepard back outside. We located the Hammerhead vehicle waiting for us not too far away. During the short walk, however, a bout of curiosity overtook me. I watched the way Miranda walked. Her anger and her caution both limited her steps, her typical confidence, even with her stronger façade up these days. Something of what she'd said back there stood out to me, too.

"Miranda," I addressed. "I keep thinking about what you said to Dr. Archer. About Project Overlord."

"What about it, Liara?" she asked, sounding rather distracted now.

"You said this is worse than nearly anything you've seen in your whole career. What else could have possibly been worse than this? A highly-advanced virus on the brink of destroying galactic civilization?"

"What they did to Jack and those children on Pragia. No…what we did to them. That was the worst thing I've ever seen, believe it or not. And all I did was make excuses for Cerberus. I'm part of the problem."

Shepard had arrived to the vehicle ahead of time. She waited for the rest of us to board before her. Allowing Miranda on first, Shepard watched her in a sense of disbelief. Pure disbelief over what Miranda had said; or that Miranda was even capable of admitting such things. I knew she had lost all hope for something like this. Yet Miranda didn't notice. She didn't spot the afternoon sun shining this light on Shepard's burgeoning hopes. Her hopes that maybe, just maybe we could all turn things around someday, exactly as she had done with me. Down and out, Miranda merely mumbled her thanks to Shepard for her manners, boarding the Hammerhead without a second thought. Beside me, Aria hummed in her own curiosities, clearly spotting what I'd noticed. We knew to say nothing out loud.

Setting off across Aite's vast wilderness, we made our way to the first facility. Shepard decided we would deal with Vulcan Station first—the geothermal plant surrounded by molten lava. Our pilot drove us in that direction. Across the lakes gleaming in the sunlight, down through the craggy ravines shadowed in the shade, and past the smaller bases teeming with hostile Cerberus turrets. A somewhat bumpy ride with our pilot dodging turret fire and shooting right back at the enemy… But I couldn't complain too much. We would arrive to our destination in due time. Not too far now.

I sat in the very back next to Aria, who had taken to glancing at me in amusement every so often. I could never know what went on in her mind as she did this. Though I supposed this was better than her outright animosity before—at worst—or her aloof indifference toward me. Miranda had gone to accompany our pilot, keeping a more direct eye on our journey ahead. I imagined she needed some space away from us as well, if only to think things through. And Shepard had elected to sit in the back with us, directly across. She seemed curious about Aria and me, looking between us, observing.

As this went on, the Hammerhead VI pointed out the scenery, much like a tour guide would have done:

"Geographic locations indicate an aesthetically pleasing view nearby. Organic lifeforms may wish to take note."

Instead of admiring the gorgeous waterfall cascading outside, Shepard continued to observe us.

Aria couldn't stop smiling. "What is it, Shepard? You look like you want to say something."

"Your native language is very beautiful. Elegant. You and Liara sound like nymphs underwater."

Tongue-in-cheek, Aria replied, "And yours is very crude. It's extremely…direct. No embellishments whatsoever. But that directness does seem fitting. It's what makes you so charming in my eyes."

Shepard took the teasing in stride, managing to laugh over it.

Seeing her like this, it gave me hope that she was truly all right now. After earlier, she could have easily put on a front. Just making us believe all was well. I liked to believe I would have seen past any of Shepard's barriers. Thankfully, she didn't have any at all. Nothing beyond her usual protections.

Progressing through Vulcan Station, however, proved to be far less eventful than our time on Hermes Station. Our pilot navigated us through the volcanic area, again taking down those Cerberus turrets in our way. We navigated on foot through a facility, bypassing the valve controls, in order to activate the vents that would propel our vehicle further upward. Then it was back inside the Hammerhead, traveling farther and farther onward. We played hopscotch through a river of lava, hovering atop pieces of debris as we traversed the bubbling hazard. And then we went inside another facility, fighting mechs the whole way through. The logs we viewed from the now-deceased project workers gave us a stronger picture of what had occurred. We listened as the scientists and engineers described their struggles with the VI. Declaring a project emergency. Shutting down power generators to attempt to starve the VI. Workers sabotaging facilities just to keep the hacked automated systems from turning against them too harshly.

Everything seemed to suggest that this rogue VI incident was merely an accident.

Once Shepard overrode the lockdown in Vulcan Station, we proceeded to Prometheus Station next. The crashed geth ship resided within Aite's more open, mountainous area. The VI had activated numerous defense shields around the station's entrance. And so our group had to suffer the Hammerhead's back-and-forth maneuvering, tricking the hacked geth cannons into shooting down those shields instead. As we explored the dank, dark depths of the ship, we saw much of the same story. Audio logs left behind by Cerberus researchers, expressing confusion toward all the sudden changes with the VI. None of them had had an inkling as to what would happen before their deaths. No suspicions, no warnings whatsoever. Just the same scrambling panic to contain the situation.

After a confusing puzzle with rearranging the ship's floor panels, we reached the next override. Shepard dealt with the lockdown, successfully issuing the override command, only for the VI to haunt the monitor directly afterward. We hadn't had to deal with any hostile mechs on our way in. On our way out, we didn't have the same luxuries. Several dormant, non-geth machines attempted to assault us as we left Prometheus Station. We took them out as needed.

Heading back to the Hammerhead one more time, we returned to the overworld outside. Driving along, our pilot brought us to Atlas Station—our final destination. We needed to find the main server room to shut down the VI experiment. Our tech experts on the Normandy remained on standby, just in case the VI attempted to use the ship as an upload link. Even if that did come to pass, I trusted that Tali and the others would be able to stop those attempts.

Not long afterward, our vehicle landed inside the Cerberus facility at one of the landing pads.

We arrived to the grayscale dark, taking a bridge to the first door. Shepard led the way forward, her pistol drawn for safety. I would've expected her to order one of us to take point—Aria, Miranda, or myself. Then I noticed her omni-tool's radar came up with no hostile readings. We were alone here.

Past the door, that grayscale continued into darker shadows. Only hints of light shined as coats of silver along the walls, along the flooring. Lights flickering from overhead, broken and fizzling out. Lights from the damaged machinery around. Fainter lights from the unused monitors, abandoned while still having been in use before. The first piece of damaged machinery we found, Shepard went to get a better look at. She found another one of Dr. Archer's logs, playing the audio for us to listen to:

"Archer's log 155.2: For years, my brother's condition has been a handicap. That changed today. His autistic mind is the breakthrough I've been looking for—he can communicate with the geth! Such a tremendous grasp of mathematics! It seems serendipity is alive and well in the twenty-second century."

When the room's lights flickered back off, and the audio log ended, Shepard stayed rooted in place.

She had picked up on something from the doctor's words. Something I could not quite grasp, what with these remaining cultural differences between our species. I did not fully comprehend why Shepard seemed so…disturbed. Disturbed from hearing Dr. Archer praise his brother in such a way. I knew I had missed something, because Miranda's entire demeanor had changed as well. Aria looked to me, also not understanding. Though we lacked crucial context, we felt it was not our place to ask questions. Not now.

Eventually, Shepard led us through the next door. We reached a hallway with somewhat better lighting. Hanging wires overhead had slashed and broken in some sort of collapse, popping and sparking on occasion. A doorway and a window ridden with bullet holes opened up to a small laboratory. But when Shepard approached the doorway, an actual door suddenly appeared. Next to her, that doorway opened instead, inviting us into the flamed darkness. Shepard kept going in spite of this strangeness. An electrical fire blew on in a corner off to the side, heating and warming the walls as such. Charred corpses lay strewn about near those flames. But our path took us in the opposite direction, down a set of stairs.

Around the corner, three possible pathways shut themselves off to us. The three doors opened and closed on their own, unlocked and locked on their own, enabled and disabled themselves on their own.

Undeterred, Shepard had us take the leftmost path as it opened. We arrived to a slightly larger lab this time. Destruction and decay everywhere—except for the open windows shining in the ethereal sunlight from the day's end. Shadowed in here was a computer with another one of Archer's logs. On the floor next to this desk, a bloodied corpse of a Cerberus researcher sat doubled over. His blood had spattered over the side of the desk with this computer. The red shadows changed to black and back again as the room's lights continued to rattle on and off again, off and on again and again. That stench of somewhat-fresh blood churned and turned my stomach as I listened to the doctor's words:

"Archer log 157.8: Unless he sees results, the Illusive Man is shutting us down next week. I have no choice. I'm going to tap David directly into the geth neural network and see if he can influence them. The danger should be negligible. David might even enjoy it."

So many lies exposed in only a few words.

Quietly seething, Shepard led us farther inside the darkened area. We found a lab elevator that would take us where we needed to go. Shepard approached the elevator battered with bullet holes, summoning the lift to our current floor. After numerous system errors—going to the wrong floor, getting trapped on other landings—the elevator finally cooperated. We then suffered this up-and-down ride downstairs through flaming smoke, emergency red lighting. The lift taking us up and down, and up and down, and down and up and up and up, nearly flattening us against the ceiling, until finally bringing us back down again. David's unintelligible speech punctured the elevator's announcements. Then once the elevator dropped down as far as it would go, nearly crashing us on arrival, the door opened.

Archer's next log played as we proceeded through this empty lab:

"I'd be lying if I said no harm could come to David. His autistic mind is as alien to me as an actual alien. Anything could happen when we plug him in. But I have to try, don't I?"

Down the following hall, these doors continued playing tricks on us.

Wise to these tricks by now, Shepard found where we needed to go. Through one of the doors, we arrived to an expansive server room. Shepard approached the VI server console in the center of the area. She reached for the console with her omni-tool hand, about to press the button as normal. After all, we needed to reach the main server room—through here—in order to shut down the VI for good.

But for some reason, Shepard waited.

She paused with her hand over the button, her lit-up omni-tool expectant and waiting with her.

She hesitated.

Not out of fear.

More out of caution. Wariness. Uncertainty.

"Commander?" worried Miranda. "This is the place, isn't it? Or is there something wrong?"

Aria went over to Shepard's side, silently asking the same things. All in her intentions, in her concern.

Blinking hard, Shepard snapped herself out of her trance. She returned to reality. As she activated the console, she ordered us: "Get ready. I wouldn't be surprised if this button summoned a Reaper."

Aria and Miranda readied their weapons, prepared for anything.

I gripped my own pistol. Wholly focused on the magnitude of light shining from Shepard's omni-tool. Watching carefully as she activated the console, opening our way through. Especially once all the lights in the area dimmed to darkness. Then a sudden light emitted from the console. That same green arose from within the surface. Those shapes formed as the VI, locking Shepard in-place. It nearly electrocuted the glow of her omni-tool. That green enshrouded the rest of us, too, overpowering our senses all.

The space around us lined itself with light, tracing the natural surfaces and lines with a luminous orange. Virtual reality transposed over our actual sight—far more crude than the seamlessness I was used to from Insomnia. Aria and Miranda shared my symptoms of a mild pain before quickly adjusting to our surroundings. But Shepard's omni-tool remained enshrouded by that green. And her eyes again… She stumbled backward, out the way we came, out through this door. Out to a holographic, memory image of Dr. Archer, another Cerberus researcher, along with David, hunched over as he walked with them.

Shepard navigated the space around us, through this game within a game of the server room. In the center area, through the windows, David's pained yelling breached our senses. We kept going anyway, even as we found these memory-images of geth platforms. They did not attack us. They merely stood and watched as we passed them by. So we continued on and into another room, with another memory.

That image of David, we saw sat upon the floor, curled up in place there. His brother Dr. Archer loomed over him, reading from a datapad; apparently unbothered by David's place on the floor. A lone geth sat in one of the operating chairs nearby, all while David repeated near-identical sequences over and over:

"Square root of 906.01 is 30.1… Square root of 912.04 is 30.2…"

Archer kept ignoring him, too preoccupied with his own personal concerns. "Time on this project is running out. There are no options left. How to get the geth's attention?"

David stood up, mimicking the geth's language to the platform in the chair. The geth looked to him and said something back.

"The robot says hello," translated David, so gentle.

"Eureka! David, you're a miracle worker."

When this memory ended, a few disturbances appeared in the room. Green globes of energy appeared to attract our attention. Shepard went over to the one in the corner. She examined the disturbance, activating another memory for us to view.

This time, we found a geth suspended from the ceiling, with Archer and his brother David present again.

"David, I want you to order the geth to take a step forward."

Mimicking the geth language again, David did as he was asked.

The geth followed his orders, moving its legs, even as it remained suspended in midair.

A Cerberus lab technician asked in wonder, "How does he do it?"

"David is a mathematical savant," explained Archer, as he and another engineer stood over his brother, sitting on the floor again. "His autistic mind can interpret the geth language at its most basic form and mimic their phonetics. With his photographic memory, cross-referencing the meaning is a snap. He's literally a human computer."

"And you think he can interface with the geth's neural network?"

"I do."

This time the engineer asked, "Is that even safe, Doctor?"

Archer replied, "I see no harm in finding out."

As that memory dissolved, Shepard went to the other disturbance in the room.

We found Dr. Archer attending to a computer, his back to his brother. David stood somewhere behind him, rocking in place as he repeated those mathematical sequences again.

"Square root of 906.01 is 30.1… Square root of 912.04 is 30.2…"

"David," said Archer, turning toward his brother. "Can you repeat my notes from Thursday's experiment?"

"Square root of 918.09 is 30.3."

"David! Please pay attention!"

David brought his hand to his forehead. "Loud! It's getting loud in here…"

"I'm sorry," attempted Archer, going to his side now. "You didn't deserve that. Would you mind repeating my notes from Thursday's experiment?"

Repeating verbatim: "Log 137.3. The experiment yielded no discernible patterns of geth obedience. They seem fixated on some other figure we have yet to determine. I cannot say if this fixation is religious, like with Saren, or if it is something else. I strongly suspect this is somehow linked to the quarians, their creators. Either way, it has posed a significant hurdle to our progress. I fear we have reached the final end of our prized project. End dictation now, David. Hell, the Illusive Man will have my head for this."

"Thank you. And how are you feeling today?"

"Square root of 924.16 is 30.4… Earplugs would be good."

As this memory concluded, we followed Shepard back out to the central hallway. We passed by an automated memory, this time of the geth leaving the project en masse. Their exodus had taken the Cerberus researchers by complete surprise. Too fearful to attack the geth, they'd stood to the side, watching this migration in fear. The once-obedient machines all left the facility of their own volition.

Our group went the opposite way, heading toward the room the geth had all left behind.

In the middle of the area, Shepard located another set of elevator controls. These controls operated the open lift not too far away. The VI's face loomed in the background, past the window there, as if waiting for us. And so we all boarded the lift together. We took the elevator down one level, down this near-corridor of lighted orange, down to our goal. This greened server room housed the VI's consciousness.

The glowing core remained guarded by moving plates, rounded in transparency. A few consoles nearby, and more shining memories playing out all around. We needed to destroy that core in order to end this nightmare. We heard David's voice again from the memory in front of us:

"Square root of 906.01 is 30.1… Square root of 912.04 is 30.2…"

Then Dr. Archer's voice. "We're ready. Open a connection to the geth network."

David boomed out—"QUIET!"—just as numerous mechs approached the Cerberus workers in the memory.

"David, no! Tell the mechs to stand down!"

"QUIET PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!"

Outside the memory, in front of us now, most of the green dimmed to that same orange from before. The core lit up in activity; the VI's face continued looming; and an announcement sounded overhead.

"Node acquired: Normandy SR-2 is within range. Attempting to establish upload link."

"Damnit," cursed Miranda. "EDI was right! The VI's trying to get into the Normandy!"

Aria aimed her shotgun at one of the VI connections pulsing around. "Shepard, this thing isn't stopping on its own! What do you want us to do?"

How strange that Shepard stayed quiet. She didn't give an immediate order to terminate the upload.

It was not like her to wax and wane in the middle of an urgent situation like this.

I rushed to look at her behind me. "Commander! What are your orders—?"

All I heard was a single, powerful shot booming out from her sniper rifle.

Not a second later, the core malfunctioned. David's pained howling roared out over the shattering of those protections around the core. Shepard had managed to connect her shot through those shifting protections. Only one bullet and she'd hit the bullseye with ease. She simply holstered her Widow over her back while the VI's face glitched and contorted out of existence.

Aria and Miranda stared at her in a stunned silence, even as David continued to cry out in pain.

"QUIET! PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!"

At last the core imploded. Right in the center, where all the room's wires and connections converged, showed David himself, trapped and suspended in midair. Constrained by metals as a crucifixion, his bare, emaciated form remained elevated in place. His head held up by a torture-like device orbiting around his skull; his eyes pried open by smaller metallic claws, unblinking, eye fluids tearing down his face; his neck and chest caged in place, parts clawing into his flesh, open wounds likely infected by now; and two wide tubes forced into his mouth and down his throat, for forced feeding to keep him alive. Alive and conscious. Completely conscious of everything that had gone on.

David tracked us with his eyes wide open.

He looked down at Shepard approaching him, before looking to the rest of us, pleading, so small:

"Quiet—please…make it stop."

Walking through the serpentine contraption of David's prison—I felt Shepard making up her mind.

She glanced at one of the consoles on the other side of the room.

"Liara, use that console to get David down from here."

"Right away," I replied, fast-walking to the console. I hurried to find a way to free him.

Aria had yet to look away from David. She couldn't quite believe her eyes—the sheer magnitude of Cerberus' cruelty. Yet Miranda had looked at him, once, before turning away. She could not face him anymore. Perhaps she felt responsible. Perhaps she blamed herself. Either way, I sensed Miranda's growing rage. She could not make a single excuse for this. She could not forgive what occurred here.

"Wait! Commander!"

Dr. Archer's voice sounded as he ran over to us.

Shepard kept her back to him. She continued regarding David, who had also fixed his eyes on her. That fixation was all he could give. All he could do as his continuous cry for help, unspeaking.

Archer tried to reason with her. "I'm begging you. Don't do anything rash."

Shepard ignored him.

She had already made up her mind.

An extension of her decisions, I kept on with this console. I was close to disabling David's restraints.

Archer sensed the helplessness of his situation. Knowing he could not reason with Shepard, he instead turned in my direction. Cursing in vain, the doctor pulled out his handgun, aiming it right at me—

Spinning around now, Shepard pulled out her own pistol as a quick draw.

She fired her gun. Just near the doctor's head. Enough to stagger him, to shock him into submission. All before Archer could even reach his own trigger. Shouting in fright, Archer's whole body trembled. He dropped his pistol by accident. Purposeful, Shepard went over and kicked his gun away, out of reach.

"Aria, restrain Dr. Archer. Keep him from getting away. I'm not done with him yet."

Aria used her strength to lock the doctor's wrists behind his back, rooting him in place.

"Commander, please!" sputtered Archer. "I know how this must look, but I never intended for any harm to come to him. You must believe me!"

Wrenching his limbs, Aria hissed, "Quiet! No one told you to speak."

Even as he hollered in pain, he still kept trying—"I-It's not like I planned this! It was an accident! Seeing David communicate with the geth…it all seemed harmless."

More lies. Unsurprising.

"…loud," mumbled David in fatigue, distressed by the gunfire, the arguing. "It's getting loud in here…"

Shepard returned to his side. "I'm sorry about the noise, David."

I made a breakthrough. Finally I found the necessary functions, disabling David's restraints.

Those metal contraptions let him go, untangling and unclawing from his body. He could have simply fallen to the floor—if Shepard wasn't there to catch him. She did so, gently setting David down to the floor. Trembling in his freedom, David pulled his legs close to his wounded chest. He sat there in a fetal position. Rocking back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. He could not look at Shepard anymore. The shame from his unclothed, uncovered body kept his head down, buried within the bends of his knees. Kneeling at his side, Shepard sought to take away that shame. She first removed her pistol from her person, then her Widow, placing them beside her. Then she removed her combat boots. Shepard took off her stealth suit, stripping herself down to the stretch fabric of her under armor. She then helped David into the black of her suit, bolstering him with her very own N7 designation. Recognizing the symbol, David seemed to lighten a bit. He almost smiled once Shepard secured her too-big boots over his feet. And again once her stealth suit nearly dwarfed him, not appearing to mind the ill-fitting sizes.

"Thank you…Commander Shepard," he whispered to her.

"We still need to get you out of here," she responded. "Are you comfortable leaving with us?"

"Yes. I recognized you. You and your team. The geth spoke highly of you. Please, anywhere but here."

"The Alliance will take you in. Grissom Academy. Have you heard of it?"

"Grissom Academy. The Jon Grissom Academy. Founded in 2176. Aiming to 'serve a student population demonstrating excellence and passion for math, science, and the liberal arts.' …I think I would like it."

"Then let's get you back to our ship. We'll escort you to the academy. I'll make sure you get settled in."

Careful and considerate, Shepard picked David up in her arms. She carried him with her. Miranda followed somewhere behind. I collected Shepard's weapons before joining the group. Implicit: Aria brought Dr. Archer with us. He could not react, could not argue; could not utter a single word in his defense. Not after witnessing Shepard earn his brother's trust like this. By bringing the doctor with us, Shepard had apprehended him, making a Spectre's arrest. She would turn him into the Council. We would keep him in the brig on the Normandy until we reached the Citadel. David was her first priority.

As we left all of this behind, David echoed out this final conversation. Word-for-word. Tone-for-tone.

"Square root of 912.04 is 30.2… It all seemed harmless."

"Square root of 912.04 is 30.2… It all seemed harmless.."

"Square root of 912.04 is 30.2… It all seemed harmless…"

That echoing stayed with me by the time we returned to the Normandy.

As these next days passed, I couldn't get that memory out of my head. Or even the memories from everything we'd witnessed. I did my best to remain productive anyway. Shepard ordered us to get the ship back to full operations. This happened as we escorted David to Grissom Academy. As promised, Shepard ensured the Alliance took him in. She worked with the director of the academy, Kahlee Sanders, explaining enough of David's circumstance. Shepard did not mention anything about Project Overlord. Had the information gotten out, this only would've given others reason to fear David, or to discriminate against him. She stayed for a little while to monitor the situation, making sure David was comfortable first. Once Shepard determined he would be just fine, we said our goodbyes to David and left the school.

We then made our way to the Citadel. In the meantime, Kaidan had worked with the Normandy's marine detachment to keep Dr. Archer detained. They safely brought the doctor to C-Sec, where Executor Pallin honored his arrest. He and Shepard spoke directly with the Council, deciding how to handle the fallout. The Council chose to make a public announcement that the ones responsible for the virus had been arrested. But they did no more than this. They chose not to name names, or to even mention Cerberus for that matter. This would have inevitably jeopardized David's new life with the Alliance, as anyone would have spotted the resemblance between brothers, and their shared surnames.

For David's sake, I was glad they chose this path. Even if it meant allowing Cerberus to escape public blame. Something of Miranda's anger gave me hope the organization would turn a new leaf someday.

Before I knew it, our days had passed into the beginning of July. It took us quite some time to restore the Normandy's functions—and without EDI needing to overcompensate, exhausting her resources. Once we were more or less back to normal, Shepard finally decided to speak with the Illusive Man. She and Miranda went to the comm room together, perhaps to express their displeasure with him over Project Overlord. I understood Shepard would also find out how to retrieve the Reaper IFF from the Illusive Man, seeing as he wouldn't simply hand it over. We needed that IFF to complete the mission.

During this time, I had retreated to my room, needing to unwind after another long day of reorganizing the lab's databases with Mordin. I had adjusted well enough to my new reality. Living a double-life, so to speak, as Shepard's secret executive officer. Publicly, I was still her science officer alongside Mordin, and so I did need to keep up with appearances. Keeping these truths hidden did eat away at me…a little. Setting that aside, I read over portions of my current dissertation, editing a few sections here and there. I fantasized about visiting the Mars Archives, wondering when exactly I might be able to make the trip.

Then I heard EDI's voice over the comms:

"Liara, I apologize for the interruption. Shepard and Miranda are currently speaking with the Illusive Man in the comm room, through the QEC. He has requested that you and Kaidan join them for the meeting."

"That's…strange," I mentioned, at a loss. "Thank you for the information, EDI. I'll head up now."

After quickly saving progress on my edits, I exited my room.

I was not surprised to find Kaidan in this officer's area of the crew's quarters. He spun around once he heard my footsteps, looking just as baffled as I was.

"Hey, Doc, did you get EDI's message? Something about the Illusive Man needing us in the comm room?"

"I did. I can't imagine what this might be for… We'd better find out. Let's get to the elevator."

Kaidan and I went up to the command deck together, speculating the whole way. I tried not to show it, but I suddenly had butterflies in my stomach, fluttering and fluttering. Heaps and magnitudes of worry and weight, and weight and worry accosted me during this wait, this ride upstairs. I worried for Shepard without knowing why. I worried and worried for her, steadily forming my own tangible reasons. She had far too much on her plate, juggling her own responsibilities as our captain, all while trying to protect us from Cerberus. After witnessing the worst of Project Overlord, I understood why she did not trust the Illusive Man. And now here we were, at his mercy until we destroyed the Collectors once and for all.

Shepard waited for Kaidan and me, standing just outside the comm room. She leaned on the wall with her arms folded, brow furrowed in contemplation. That pile of stress in her face, barely-visible, seemed to justify this sweeping sensation in my core. Yet she would not speak on it. She said nothing at all. She merely brought the two of us into the room. We entered the QEC call with Shepard, joining Miranda still with the Illusive Man. The familiarity of his office was not lost upon me. Nor was this sight of his suited form sitting in that chair of his, smoking a cigarette; obscuring his face, his eerie blue eyes with smoke.

And when he bored his unnatural blues into my natural ones, I stopped myself from visibly reacting.

Such a powerful, heavy fear locked me in place. Even the butterflies in my stomach died away. They died and wilted, soon turning into knots, knotting and twisting my insides. Only once Shepard stood beside me could I regain my bearings. Or just enough of them, anyway. Kaidan seemed equally disturbed, not bothering to hide the disdain and mistrust in his face. Miranda had not stopped scowling at him this entire time, either. While Shepard tried to appear neutral, I still sensed her troubles growing, more so.

"Dr. T'Soni," greeted the Illusive Man, smoking once more. "Staff Commander Alenko. We haven't had the chance to meet one another personally. You've been with Commander Shepard since the beginning. Your unique experience will prove valuable for us, moving forward. We need your expertise for this."

"For this?" echoed Kaidan. "What the hell is this, exactly? Commander, what's going on?"

Shepard instead ordered the Illusive Man, "Give them the rundown. Then get to the point already."

"If you insist," he accepted. "I'm certain the commander's mentioned the situation to you. I currently have the Reaper IFF in my possession. Before I hand it over, I need you and your team to do me a favor. This is completely unrelated to your mission. It has very little to do with the Collectors directly. That's why I'm calling it a favor. But you and the rest of your team also need to follow my instructions carefully. If you try to get around my instructions, our deal will be off. Your mission will be over prematurely."

After all the resources he'd put into restoring Shepard—into making sure she succeeded on this mission:

It really all came down to this.

This wasn't so much a favor as it was a clear attempt at extortion.

Shepard knew the same. She fumed and fumed, no doubt hating how powerless she was to stop this.

Kaidan cautioned to ask, "Then what's this 'favor' you want? What do you need us to do?"

"I'm sending your team to the Prothean Archives on Mars. They'll need you, Alenko, for your Alliance credentials to get in. Either you or Lieutenant Vega will do just fine. Once you're inside, Dr. T'Soni's Prothean expertise will prove useful. There's a certain piece of data I'll need you to locate. When you find it, I'll explain how I want you to handle the data. It will be up to Miranda to deal with it for me."

"Sure, but why aren't you including Shepard? She has the credentials to get into the Archives, too."

The Illusive Man announced, "That's because the commander's not going with you. I won't allow it. Shepard won't be accompanying you to Mars, period. Your team will drop her off elsewhere and take the Normandy on your own. Miranda needs to get this done without her. No outside influences."

Equally stunned by the news, Kaidan and I turned to our commander.

Again, Shepard raged on her own. Quietly. Unspoken. I could see the red threading beneath her skin.

By contrast, Miranda had dropped her anger somewhere. She looked rather lost now. Confused. Or perhaps she didn't know what to feel. How to react. What to say. She seemed completely blindsided by the Illusive Man's demands. Yet I knew she would go along with this for the mission's sake. She would.

I had to ask, "How do you know this piece of data is there? You apparently do not have access to the Archives. No Cerberus sleeper agents. How can you know what exists past the Alliance's security?"

"I may not have access to the data myself. But I do know it is there—specifically within the Prothean Archives. Your own government tipped me off about this, Doctor. Though not on purpose. I happened to overhear some crucial information related to this data. Your recent trip to Thessia might have shined some light on the subject. In case you were unaware, Asari High Command has hidden one of the galaxy's most prized secrets on your homeworld. Right within the Temple of Athame exists a Prothean VI. Your government uses this VI to essentially stay ahead of the game. I'm sorry to say the asari aren't naturally as advanced as most people believe. The Protheans gave your species quite the helping hand."

As much as I hated to admit it, the Illusive Man's assessments did line up with my own observations.

From what I could tell, as well, many asari matriarchs knew this information. My mother, Benezia. The asari councilor, Tevos. And several others on Thessia, on our colonies, on the Citadel and elsewhere. Perhaps even Samara knew by now…if she cared to research such events beyond her business as a justicar. The matriarchs kept this information to themselves, holding it over us in a way. And by 'us' I simply meant the rest of the population. The matrons and the maidens among us—Aria, Liselle, Shiala, myself and more. The great asari wisdom, renowned across the galaxy, explained away by a mere VI…

Spotting my pained acceptance, the Illusive Man continued, "This is how Asari High Command was able to predict when the Reapers will arrive in force. They didn't pull the November-December timeframe out of thin air. The asari councilor received the news from the Prothean VI, extracted directly by your government. And now the Council is withholding that information from the rest of the galaxy, all in an attempt to prevent widespread panic. I don't agree with the Council's methods. But that's neither here nor there. The point is, the VI also informed them about the existence of this data on Mars. Now I want you to take a look at it for yourself. Miranda will follow my instructions on how to handle the data. Once that's done, I'll send over the IFF to you. No hesitation. No more delays. You'll have my blessing."

Kaidan pressed his hand to his head. "This is a lot to take in… You're telling us the asari government has access to advanced technology—Prothean technology—and they're keeping it all a secret? This secret VI knows about some secret Prothean data on Mars. And you want us to go find it. Except Shepard can't come with us. You want us to drop her off somewhere…and take the Normandy to Mars without her?"

"That's correct, Alenko."

Miranda spoke up, "Sir, how did you even get this Reaper IFF in the first place? You never told me."

"You'll have to ask Legion about that."

Legion?

Why would Legion know anything about this specific piece of tech?

If the Illusive Man wouldn't explain that, he at least owed us some other answers. Very specific answers.

"I understand you're still upset about Project Overlord," he observed. "Miranda and I have discussed the issue in detail. She isn't pleased with me. I had no idea the lengths Dr. Archer had gone to in order to get results. I also take the blame for pressuring him, even indirectly. Archer was terrified I would decide to end the project. He went to extraordinary means to keep that from happening. I don't blame you for turning him into the Council. They've contacted me. I promised to cooperate with their investigation."

I needed to know, "Then how do you plan on handling the fallout? How will you prevent anything like this from happening again? You do realize Cerberus has a horrible reputation. You're too often cruel. Unethical. Inhumane. I find your lack of humanity very ironic, considering how human-centric you are."

The Illusive Man hid his pause by snuffing out his cigarette. He nearly stabbed at the ashes along the armrest of his chair. But from the calm of his office, and the continuation of that supergiant glowing and heating red behind him, I might not have noticed. I might not have noticed him glaring at me as he lit another cigarette. His eyes honed in on something in me, again obfuscated by all the smoke in the air.

Then he explained, neutral once more, "We're already working on it, Dr. T'Soni. I've consulted with Miranda after reading her report. She also included several more reports for me—such as her ideas on how to reform our organization. I can safely say it's much overdue. I'm putting Miranda in charge of more thorough audits of our past, current, and future projects. The Lazarus Cell was a great success. The Overlord Cell was just one in a pattern of failures for us. She'll make sure this doesn't happen again."

Kaidan wondered, "So, this whole test for Miranda on Mars…is this how she'll earn her stripes?"

"That would be a fair assessment."

The two events felt more like a coincidence to me.

I didn't believe the Illusive Man was sincere about these reform efforts. Miranda, yes. But not her boss.

He concluded our meeting: "I'll let you and your team iron out the final details. I would simply advise you to handle any last minute business before Mars. Make sure you're ready to hit the Omega 4 Relay immediately. Right after your visit to the Prothean Archives—as soon as I give you the IFF. I have a feeling you won't have time to say any goodbyes afterward. This is the point of no return. Good luck."

As the QEC dissolved away, we all returned to the brightened silence of the comm room.

Shepard did not give us time to speak among ourselves first. She gave her immediate order:

"EDI, tell everyone to assemble in the comm room. We have a lot to go over."

"Yes, Commander."

Then she went to the head of the table. Soon the rest of the team filed inside, looking mildly panicked, or at least concerned. We arranged ourselves in an official order. The order in which we had all joined the team—with me at the very end across from Javik. The only exception was Aria, who had taken her special place next to Legion, across from Miranda; adjacent to the commander. No one pointed it out.

Shepard explained the situation as succinctly as she could.

Because she knew our team would immediately protest—

"He wants us to do what?" shouted Aria. "We're dropping you off and leaving on our own? All to do a favor for the Illusive Man? On fucking Mars?! What the hell is he thinking!?"

Garrus slammed his hand over the table. "Commander, this is bad news. It's code red! Red flag! Red everything! You can't seriously believe this is above-board. This has the word trap written all over it!"

"No kidding," fretted Kaidan. "I mean, telling us to handle some other mission without you? What if he does have sleeper agents on Mars? What if the Illusive Man's sending us into an ambush? You'd be able to spot something like that, Commander. You're our ace. You'd get us out of there no problem. What if he knows that, and he's hamstringing us by not letting you come along? What if he's trying to kill us?"

Jack also disapproved. "Sure as hell sounds like a trap to me. So, what, we go to Mars, and Princess deals with the data? Then we can go blow up the Collectors? That's just bullshit! He spent all this money making sure we got this far. Why's he threatening to pull the plug on us now? What's the big deal?"

Javik noted, "This Illusive Man is a clever extortionist. He pours endless resources into our success. Only to threaten our success near the very end. We are left with no choice but to concede to his demands."

"Goddamn jackass," cursed Zaeed. "He's brilliant. But the man's a fucking lunatic. Making us do all his dirty work… Feels like it was his plan from the start. Get us this far then hang this shit over our heads."

James let out a heavy sigh. "Gotta agree with the old man. I knew Cerberus was bad. But this? This is something else! It's like they make their entire living out of screwing people over! And they just get away with it! I'll be damned if they get to do the same to us. Kinda looks like we got no choice, though."

"I don't like this, either," shared Tali. "It all sounds terrible. He's sending us off without you, Shepard. I just know we're going to run into the worst kind of trouble. Cerberus is threatening our whole group with this stunt! And while you're gone, we'll have to follow orders from one of them! Isn't that a conflict of interest?" She meant Miranda, who would act as our leader for the excursion to Mars. "…no offense."

"None taken," offered Miranda, sounding sincere. "To be honest, I'm rather upset over the situation. I know I don't have the best track record with this. But I genuinely don't know what the Illusive Man's angle is. He hasn't told me anything. Let alone how he even found the IFF before." Most of the team nodded in quiet acceptance; the others at least appeared unsuspicious, believing Miranda's claims. "Legion, he said you would have more information about that. Have you anything to share with us?"

Everyone then turned to Legion.

As if suffering from a bout of stage fright, Legion hesitated, its head flaps rapidly shifting up and down.

Then it finally admitted, "The Friend/Foe technology…was a gift. From us. We located the IFF while exploring a derelict Old Machine. When we first approached Cerberus, we offered this technology to the Illusive Man. He accepted our gift in exchange for our services. We were allowed to participate in the Lazarus Project. We assisted Operator Lawson in restoring Shepard-Commander's non-functionality."

"Wait a minute," recalled Shepard. "I remember this. Way back when I met you after Freedom's Progress… You said the gift was classified! You mean to tell me you knew about this the whole time?!"

"Yes…"

"Goddamnit, Legion!"

Legion lowered its head in shame, in apology.

Goddess, what a mess…

Even as a few others glared at Legion, or muttered their disdain, Shepard still brought things back:

"Forget it. What's done is done. This situation isn't ideal. We're stuck between a rock and a hard place. We also have no choice but to move forward, like James said. If we don't do this, the mission's dead. Too many people are counting on us. We have to stop the Collectors. And that means taking care of this so-called favor."

It didn't take long for her to settle on the final details.

"Here's the plan," declared Shepard. "We'll work on restoring the Normandy first. We need the ship fully operational before we hit the relay. I imagine this'll take us at least a few more days. Once we're done, Joker and EDI will take me back to Earth. We can all spend the day in my hometown as our actual last shore leave. You'll head off to Mars the next morning under Miranda's command. I'll wait at home until you're done. Whatever's waiting for you out there, you can handle it. You've all made it this far."

I could practically hear the team all saying at once—

"Yes, but with you leading the way."

That shared sentiment from us reached Shepard anyway.

We didn't need to say the words. She felt them straight from our hearts.

Stubborn and solitary as she was, even Aria felt the same. I saw it in her eyes. The way she looked at the commander in this rare openness. Doubtlessly, Aria did not want to handle this operation on Mars without her. None of us did. But if anyone could have swayed Shepard to move the heavens themselves, all to change our fate, it would have been her. Heaven or hell, this remained impossible.

Despite the unknowns, we did have something to look forward to. I could see us arriving to San Diego in time for Tali's twenty-fifth birthday. We could at least share in my best friend's special celebration.

Once we were on our own, Shepard's clear authority would still carry us through—in spirit.

I could only hope her skills and her leadership would find their way to us through osmosis.

For the time being, she offered us this much-needed wisdom as our strongest comfort:

"I understand your fears, everyone. This is highly unusual for us. Barring the couple of times I was out of commission, you at least had me around. I won't be with you this time. But that doesn't mean you're automatically doomed to fail. If there's anything I want you to remember, it's this. If something doesn't feel right, stop for a moment. Listen to your instincts. Just listen. Then take action. Rushing ahead isn't always the best approach. Stopping to think first—it can make all the difference. It can save lives. Carry that with you. Until then, it's business as usual. Let's get the Normandy back in shape. Crew dismissed."