Disclaimer: I do not own Mass Effect or any of its characters. They are products of BioWare, EA and certainly not me. This fan fiction is for entertainment purposes; no profit or intrusion of copyright is intended.
Days passed quickly, missions concluding with relative ease and little complication. Samara found peace in stopping her daughter from taking any more innocent lives. Though difficult and mentally exhausting, Samara held nothing back in her attack on Morinth and willingly took the life of the daughter she cherished. Shepard offered support but in truth, it amounted to little. What could he understand of the centuries long hunt Samara endeavored upon in chase of the renegade Ardat-Yakshi or the pain in taking a child's life?
Shepard knew the decision and act pained Samara, for despite her pledge to the code and her commitment to the Justicars, she loved her daughter. No mental discipline possessed the power to completely eradicate so strong an emotion as a mother's devotion. In the hopes to distract Samara from well contained grief, Shepard asked her to accompany him to the Quarian Fleet to respond to the treason charges levied against Tali.
Vehement in his defense, Shepard stood before the admirals to defend his crewmate and friend. After the countless life endangering missions Tali voluntarily entered on his behalf, Shepard responded with passionate and fierce loyalty, speaking out against the ludicrous charges. Even after discovering the treasonous acts of Tali's father, Admiral Rael'Zorah, Shepard remained true to his friend's innocence and even avoided disclosing any information incriminating about her Father. His impassioned rhetoric worked; the admiralty dismissed any charges against Tali.
In route to Aite to investigate the recently silent Cerberus facility, Shepard stood by his desk, staring at the framed dog tags Liara gifted him once she assumed the role of Shadow Broker. A soft confident hand pressed into his back and slid up to his shoulder. He relaxed at the familiar touch and tilted his head enough to peer over his shoulder, hand tightening on the framed dog tags.
"You've been staring at those for nearly five minutes," she commented, softly. "Did you hear anything I said?"
"Sorry," he set the frame down and turned to her. "You were talking about the facility right?"
"I was," she turned from him and walked down the stairs towards the couch and picked up one of the datapads on the table. "There isn't much information beyond what was happening before it went dark. And to be honest, I'm not entirely sure these reports are accurate. There are inconsistencies."
Sinking onto the couch with a pained sigh, he closed his eyes. "I'm not surprised." Legs extended slightly, head lulled to the side, he settled deeply into the cushions. "You'll come with me? You're Cerberus's top Operative and I have no idea what we're walking into down there. I'll need you at my side." At her hesitation, he opened his eyes. He furrowed his brow at her confused expression and he sat up. "What is it?"
"I don't like flying blind. Something is missing and there is no reason that full reports cannot be divulged." She tossed the datapad onto the table and stalked around the table to sit beside him.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs, hands hanging between his legs. "Last time we jumped into a mission prompted by the Illusive Man, it was a trap and the Collectors nearly had us." Observing her with careful consideration, he tilted his head when her eyes narrowed in pensive thought. "What is it?" he pried.
Sighing, her eyes lowered, focused on a random darkened point on the floor. "We both know our odds, Shepard, and they're pretty slim that we will be returning from the Omega relay and I am fully prepared for that. However, I am not prepared to die before we even get there." She withheld any further uncertainty and pressed her hands into the couch cushion, pushing to her feet.
"Miranda, I need to know you have my back."
Pausing, she looked back over her shoulder at him, expression guarded and professional – a usual appearance. An unanswered question hovered between them as she waited expectantly for clarification.
"We're going down to a Cerberus facility that the Illusive Man still seems to back or at least have interest in." He stood, his back cracked with the motion, seized and quivered. He clenched his teeth against the discomfort and arched his back further to stretch the taut and twisted muscles though he showed no other sign of pain. "When I was in the Alliance, I chased down and shut down a lot of Cerberus facilities and let's just say that I never saw anything inside that I thought was worthwhile. I need to know that whatever happens down there, whatever we find, you're going to have my back. Because if it's something monstrous down there, there is no way in hell I'm letting Cerberus keep it."
"Shepard," She faced him, leaning into a hip as she crossed her arms in a confident display of control. "I have shut down, reestablished, reorganized and purged more Cerberus facilities than the Alliance even knows about. I am more than prepared for what we could be walking into and what we'll have to do." Leaning down, she picked up two of the datapads. "I'll be ready in ten minutes." Without hesitation and offering no time for response, Miranda left the Captain's quarters.
Miranda circled one of the many shorted and scorched terminals in the devastated Cerberus facility. Shepard spoke privately with Dr. Archer – the only survivor so far. Miranda and Jacob focused their attention on the condition of the primary facility, checking for survivors and examining any data about the incident. Calm, controlled and professional, Miranda walked slowly through the corridors, a small sensor reading datapad in her hand as she scanned for any environmental discrepancies to account for the loss of life.
With little evidence of cause, she returned inside the facility and assisted Jacob gathering the bodies. Stopping to examine each corpse, she inspected for obvious signs of trauma, battle, wounds and fatal injuries. She placed the data scanner on a nearby terminal and gripped the foot of one of the deceased, helping Jacob pull the body away from the shattered glass of an internal window.
"It's like a warzone here," Jacob commented. "These are scientists, engineers. They aren't soldiers."
"They knew the risks when they signed up with Cerberus," Miranda answered coolly.
"I guess so," he shrugged and crouched down to close the eyes of the nearest corpse. "Don't make it easy to see so many civilians slaughtered. Somebody messed up here. And I think it was him." Standing, his eyes glanced towards Dr. Archer in a room a few meters away. "Kinda fishy he's the only one still standing. Something's going on here and it smells rotten, if you ask me."
Miranda nodded her agreement, eyes focused on one of the men lying on his back in a row where Jacob placed the deceased. Stepping around a few bodies, she crouched at the man's side, scanning his face.
"You knew him?"
"You could say that," her simple response. An understatement. She recognized the man – an engineer from nearly ten years ago. He changed little though the hair at his temples grayed and he weighed nearly two stone heavier than the man of her memory. Assigned to the same project, they worked together attempting to stabilize a cybernetic neural agent for injection into cloned fauna. A close professional relationship soon evolved into an intimate physical relationship. Intelligent, handsome and quick witted, the attraction intense though Miranda remained distant despite sharing his bed.
Hardened and cold from the treatment at her father's hands, Miranda avoided emotional entanglement, keeping her lover at arm's length, sharing every physical pleasure with him yet kept closed emotionally. He persisted, warm and joking. Despite her coolness, he romanced her, opened to her and showed her glimpses of the man beneath the brains and the work. He joked about his childhood growing up on Earth and understood her inability to express anything beyond frustration. After particularly difficult days, he said little and massaged the tension from her back with expert hands.
She melted at the touch and though said nothing to him, calmed at the tender gesture. She refused to let emotions cloud her judgment and despite his actions, she never fully warmed to him – she couldn't and was incapable of emotional attachment.
Unwilling or unable to notice her reticence, he grew attached and loved her. When the project ended, he disclosed his feelings over wine and a rare import of chocolates. He asked her to join him on his next assignment working on establishing a more advanced communication link between networks for planetary facilities. Accepting his offer meant sacrificing the promotion offered as reward for her service, efficiency and loyalty.
She rejected him, unable to sacrifice her career. Though she enjoyed their time together and he proved a skilled and generous lover, her work occupied her drive and her desire. Scorned, hurt and embarrassed, he left the facility the following day while she finished closing up the research, transferred all relevant data files and destroyed any incriminating evidence regarding their findings. She never regretted her choice.
A small shimmer distracted her, broke her free of the memory and she glanced towards his hand. With care and gentleness, she lifted his left hand, examining the simple golden band on his ring finger. Reverently, she set his hand on his chest and crossed the right over the left.
"Alright, let's go. We have more facilities to secure," Shepard announced as he passed Miranda and Jacob to exit the building.
Miranda looked up at his words and placed a hand over the engineer's for a few seconds then stood. Exiting the facility, she waited for Jacob and entered the passenger seat of the Hammerhead vehicle. As Shepard slipped into the driver's seat, she glanced out of the corner of her eye. Determined, polarizing and strong, he wordlessly demanded attention, loyalty and command. Averting her eyes, she gripped the handle at the side of the door as he quickly accelerated and cut a rough turn.
Despite her every resistance, Shepard slipped under her skin – his strength, his power, his intelligence, his charisma. Her protective walls and icy façade melted and though still erect and strong, their heights and thickness severely shrunk with his persistence.
Miranda faced the door, gun pointed and alert as Shepard accessed the computer terminal. At his prolonged silence, she peered back at him and frowned at his stoicism. She called his name; he didn't respond. She lowered her weapon and approached his side as his head flew back, neck arching as he trembled. Jacob rushed to the commander's side but hesitated to touch him. Shepard staggered towards the door.
Miranda frowned and turned to the terminal in a vain effort to see what caused Shepard's behavior. When Shepard collapsed outside the door, she rushed to its entrance, but the door closed behind him, locking Miranda and Jacob in the room. Jacob pounded on the door as Miranda tapped agile fingers along the console for the door. The grating and garbled voice of the VI echoed through the room and Miranda winced at the annoying and startling sound.
She barked an order for Jacob to open the door as she rushed to the terminal, swiping her fingers over the controls. The VI rattled again in protest and shorted the terminal. With a hiss, Miranda pulled her hands back at the electrifying shock. Cursing at the console, she stormed to the door where Jacob pulled off the panel at the side of the door.
"Damn it," Jacob growled as he tore at three of the wires, separating them then changed their connection. "It keeps overriding everything I do."
"Then we need another way," she responded and her eyes scanned the room, checking along the walls. Leaving the door, she approached the closest duct grating. Kneeling beside the duct grating, she drew her weapon and jammed the butt against the edge of the grating, attempting to loosen it.
"Commander," Jacob yelled against the door, hoping Shepard heard. "Commander, can you hear me? The door is locked. We can't get out."
"Jacob, here." Miranda holstered her weapon and slipped her fingers into the grating, jerking hard to loosen it. The grate cracked, creaked and bent slightly. Jacob abandoned his work on the door to kneel at Miranda's side and gripped the grating, using his full strength to pull and bend it away.
The grating moved only a few feet, leaving minimal room; the grating covering stopped and budged no further. Jacob shook his head. "I can't get it any more. You have to go through and get the door open."
Miranda secured her weapons. "Keep trying." Twisting at the waist and with hips piked, she placed one foot into the tunnel and ducked her head. Serpentine-like and agile, she held her breath, sucked in her stomach and slipped into the small opening for the duct. Tight and dark, barely enough room to walk crouched, Miranda fiddled with the earpiece in her ear and flicked on a light. "Shepard? Can you hear me?"
She altered the frequency on the left earpiece, displaying the camera from Shepard's helmet. He staggered through rooms then paused and seemed to stare at nothing for minutes. "Shepard?" She repeated and drew her pistol as she crouched low with one hand for balance and walked through the duct. Her steps clicked and banged against the metallic duct.
After sixteen steps, she paused at a tee in the duct and glanced left then right. "Jacob? Status."
"Damn thing … stuck," he responded, the communication garbled with static. "Don't think … in. … the door … pull out … open."
"Damn it," she leaned back against the wall of the duct. "Jacob. You're breaking up." Static hissed. "Jacob?" The rogue VI garbled and cracked into her ear, grating and deafening. With a wince she quickly tore the earpiece from her ear. Eyes closed she pressed at her ear in an attempt to sooth the ringing. Removing both earpieces, she slipped them into the ammo pouch on her belt and chose the left tunnel.
As she walked, she memorized her path, forcing her mind to map her direction. After the third corridor, she paused near a side grating for the duct and peered out. The corridor empty, broken geth laid scattered and torn apart with scorched holes at the head and chest from the thermal shots. Hesitant, she ensured no enemies patrolled.
Laying back, she pressed her lower back and shoulders into the floor of the duct and lifted her legs. Pulling her knees to her chest she kicked both feet at the grate door. Once then again and again; the corridor and duct echoed with the sound of armored boots against metal. By the fifth kick, the center of the grating bent and protruded outward. She focused on kicking the edges and soon the grate popped off with a crash, soaring across the corridor and banged into the opposite wall.
She spun quickly, settling on the side of her hip as she pointed her pistol out the duct opening. Moving quickly and efficiently, she aimed one way then the next before climbing out. Stepping a few feet one way then the next, she peered into one of the internal windows, attempting to identify her location. Reaching into her ammo pouch, she pulled out one of the ear pieces and slipped it into place. "Jacob? Can you read me?"
"I hear you, Miranda," Jacob answered. "The door just opened suddenly a minute ago. I'm in the hallway. Where are you?"
"I'm not sure yet," Miranda removed the second earpiece from her ammo pouch and slipped it into her other ear, triggering the orange virtual visor to stretch across her eyes. "Find Shepard. I'll catch up."
Turning, she entered the nearest door, eyes sharp and darting as she searched. Empty. Retreating from the room, she jogged down the corridor. After minutes of weaving, she paused, recognizing the room two corridors away from where Shepard wandered. When she entered the final room, Shepard stood at the center, confronting Dr. Archer. Jacob gripped his gun tightly though his arm hung limply at his side, eyes focused on a spherical construct at the center.
Holstering her weapon, she crossed the room as Shepard turned away from Archer and pressed a finger to his ear in communication with Joker. Miranda neared and Shepard released his ear to hold her eyes, expression clouded and simmering with anger. Brow furrowed she paused before him. "What happened? Are you alright?"
"I'm alright," he answered deeply, eyes troubled, narrowed in disgust but he reached out to rest a hand on her hip. "Can't say the same for him though," His head turned to the side and he looked at the central piece of the room.
Miranda turned her head as well to follow his gaze. A man hung suspended at the center of a spherical contraption, naked with limbs extended. Probes punctured multiple points along his skin as stiff straps held his arms and legs in place, another wrapped around his waist to prevent him from moving. His head arched back, delicate metallic claws forcing his eyes open as two large tubes plunged down his throat. "The square root of 906 … is 30.1," the man said, his eyes darting back then forth as if reading something.
How he spoke, Miranda wasn't sure. Stepping away from Shepard, she stood beside Jacob, who stood still in shock and horror. Her expression cold, she approached the spherical device. "What happened?"
"David's a savant," Shepard answered, flatly. "Seems he was able to talk to the geth. So Dr. Archer here thought it would be a great idea to integrate his brother with the geth system. Have a human control their network."
"Make it stop," David begged as tears slipped from his eyes. "The square root of 906 is 30.1."
Miranda's head snapped to the side, eyes narrowed and shoulders tensed. "He did this to his brother?" Memories and thoughts of Oriana flooded her mind and she pictured her sister in a similar situation. But Miranda never willingly endangered her sister, she protected and took care of her.
"I don't really care why he did it or even who he did it to," Shepard growled. "You just don't do that to someone, especially when they're like David. He didn't have a say, it wasn't his choice. Jacob, get him out of that."
"No, you can't just …" Dr. Gavin Archer stepped forward but paused at the warning glare from the Commander. "It's not that simple to detach him. He's fully integrated into the geth systems and to pull him out could severely overload his mind."
"Then get him out!" Shepard ordered and Archer ducked his head as he rushed to the console. Fingers swiping and tapping, he popped the probes from David's arms and legs. Jacob and Miranda eased into the contraption. Shepard stood behind Archer, arms crossed and threatening. Piece by piece, the contraption extracted itself from David; Jacob reached up and caught the man as he crumpled with the release of the tension.
David flinched at the touch though with atrophied muscles, he resisted little. Miranda crouched with Jacob, helping him set David on the ground. David sank onto the floor then curled up onto his side, panting, winded, thin, naked and trembling. He muttered a series of square roots, twitching as his muscles sought the stimulation of the probes.
"Jacob, go out and wait for the shuttle." Shepard ordered and when Jacob saluted and obeyed, the commander pressed his fingers into his ear. "Joker, can you hear me?"
"Loud and Clear, Commander," Joker answered.
"Send down the shuttle for pick up. We'll need some blankets, spare set of clothes and make sure Dr. Chakwas is on board. Stretcher too. I don't think he can walk."
"Shuttle extraction in six minutes thirteen seconds, Commander," EDI stated.
Crouched beside David, Miranda rested a hand on his shoulder in an attempt at comfort. Awkward with the display, she pulled her hand back and stood, instead standing, striding away from the savant and towards Dr. Archer. With strong and accusatory eyes, she searched the shaken scientist's expression. "Do you know who I am?"
"Of course, Operative." Archer responded, straightly. "Any project leader is aware of you and what you do. But my work has all been sanctioned by the Illusive man, himself."
Head tilting slightly, Miranda held the strong but wavering gaze of the Cerberus scientist. "And he knew exactly how you planned on controlling the geth?"
"Controlling the geth would be an enormous asset to humanity's strength." He shook his head, motioning to the machinery at the center of the room. "Can you imagine the power we would wield if we could use the geth on the front lines of any conflict?"
Challenging, she staggered her feet and responded with ice. "The benefits of a geth army are undeniable. I mean to question your motives on a far more personal level. How could you do this to your brother?" The venomous question hung in the air, crisp and weighted in accusatory disgust. At Archer's hesitation, Miranda turned from the scientist in dismissal.
Pragia proved a difficult and painful reminiscence of the past for Jack as she walked through the facility that once imprisoned her. Her ordeals horrified him and though Miranda watched the entire tour through the cameras in his helmet, she remained relatively quiet to the visual evidence and Jack's stories. He wondered of the Operative's response and resisted the urge to ask her input. He never rushed Jack, gave her time to reflect. Aboard the shuttle after planting detonation charges throughout the facility, he watched cautiously as Jack sat opposite him, gripping the detonator in her hand as her thumb casually flicked open and closed the safety, exposing the trigger then covering it again.
Jack stared blankly out the window of the small shuttle and flicked the safety open one more time. Her thumb hesitated over the button and her eyes slowly met Shepard's. When the Commander pounded on the cockpit door, the shuttle quickened and ascended higher into the atmosphere. Jack looked down at the button and within a sense of both revenge and closure, she pressed the button, detonating all the charges in the abandoned Cerberus facility.
The ship's temporary peace erupted within hours of returning when Shepard rushed to Miranda's office to prevent an explosive encounter. He resisted the initial urge to immediately defend Miranda and instead focused on his role as commander and successfully diffused the situation by convincing both women to focus their anger on the Collectors instead of each other. It surprised him the argument worked. He expected the two to lash out, tear each other apart. He prayed the animosity simmered well beneath the surface at least until after the mission.
Shepard followed Jack into the belly of the ship and stood at the base of the stairs as she released an infuriating roar and cast a biotic charge at a stacked pillar of crates, effectively toppling them. She paced away from the crates then sunk onto the cot, legs spread and elbows resting on her thighs. Turning her attention to the stairs, she eyes Shepard with disgust. "You know I'm right. After seeing that twitching vegetable Cerberus plugged into the geth and the facility they kept me in? We were like fucking dogs! And you still side with that blind bitch."
Shepard crossed his arms, leaning casually against the cool metal of the ship's hull. "I'm not siding with her. And I'm not siding with you. I'm trying to keep my team from killing each other before we even jump through the Omega 4 relay. My sole focus right now is this mission and stopping the Collectors."
"Hah!" she scoffed with a shake of the head. "You just tell your dick that next time you're following her to her room."
He arched a brow, unimpressed with the jab. "Jealous?"
"Hmff, you wish," Jack commented, amused. "Look, Shepard, you're a little too squeaky behind the ears for me. But I get it. Ya like getting' your cock wet and she's willing to do it. But don't forget exactly who she is and who these fucking people are."
Pushing off the wall, he stalked across the darkened bay towards her and leaned back on the table, sitting carefully. "And yet you're still here and haven't blown anyone's head off."
Shifting, she swayed left then right, leaned back and brought a single leg up, planting her foot onto the bed and draping an arm over the raised knee. "Been thinkin' about it. Just haven't had the time. Plus the bitch has been staying a deck away from me. As if that could stop me when my finger itches enough." At Shepard's silence, she tilted her head, eyes narrowed in curiosity. "You're not defending her. I've been ripping apart your walking cock holster and you just stand there with your mouth shut."
He shrugged, unimpressed. "Would it matter? You'd just keep doing it anyway. I don't care what you think of her or me or anyone on this ship. There are only three things you need to know." He uncrossed his arms and held up an index finger. "First, this is my ship and my rules. Period." He held up his middle finger. "Second. Don't shoot team members at least until after we stop the collectors. After that, I really don't care what you do." He held up his ring finger. "Third. Follow orders in the field. I don't care that none of you are soldiers, it's a military operation and the only way we're getting out of this alive is if we're all on the same page."
"Works for me," she answered, sharply, lifting her chin. "But if that brainwashed cheerleader tries to turn me over to Cerberus when this is all done, I'll skin her alive and anyone else in my way." She leaned forward, pointing a finger towards Shepard. "We clear?"
"That's not going to happen," he pushed off the wall. "When this is over, we're going back to Omega and everyone is getting off who wants to get off, same thing at the Citadel. Our agreement is defeating the Collectors. Nothing after."
Jack rhythmically tapped her fingers on her knee as she weighted Shepard's words – truth or lies. Finally, she nodded. "Alright, Shepard. You win. But Omega. First stop."
"First stop," he affirmed. "We good?"
"Yeah, we're good." She swung her legs up onto the cot and lay down, crossing her feet as she tucked her arms under her head in dismissal.
Miranda entered the dimmed Starboard Observation, stepping quietly around Samara to the large window looking out to vast void of space. Needing a change of scenery, she retreated to the crew's library with little intention of reading, instead opting for quiet reflection. Samara continued her meditation, seated at the center of the floor in butterflied position, her wrists resting on each knee with finger tips pressed together. Biotic energy pulsed, her eyes glazed in white as she internalized her thoughts.
Samara ceased her meditation, her eyes normal again and she peered up at the Cerberus Operative with a calm and yet emotionless gaze; Miranda ignored the penetrating stare. "You seem troubled," the Asari noted then returned to her meditation, eyes whitening.
"I'll be fine," Miranda replied calmly, gaze unwavering from the stars.
Samara inhaled slowly then exhaled as muscles relaxed, growing heavy as they responded to the deeper meditation, despite her active conversation – as if her mind compartmentalized to achieve both a state of awareness and one of calm relaxation. "You carry many burdens and share few, perhaps none. As it should be. Strength comes from within."
Reflective, Miranda crossed her arms and leaned against the metal of the hull near the window's edge. "How do you kill your own daughter?" her delivery stoic as she leaned into her hip, heavily against the frame of the window.
"Because my code demanded it," Samara responded with ease. "Do you find that cold? Callous?"
"No," she shook her head and her neck twisted to turn her eyes to the meditating Asari. "Curious. Does it bother you?"
"Just because I take the pledge of the code of the Justicars does not mean I am heartless or without emotion. It simply means that I do not have shades of grey to cloud my decisions. My code dictates them." She stopped her meditation again and pushed to her feet, stepping up to the window to peer outside. "It eases the weight of decisions. Black … or white. Left … right. I did not wish to kill my daughter, but her choices left me no other option."
At Miranda's silence, Samara faced the Operative. "I will give you time to reflect." Samara stated. "I find reflection a satisfying mental exercise. The vast emptiness of space is an excellent focus point." Without waiting for a response, Samara left the room.
In quiet reflection, Miranda stared into the vastness of space, vision blurring as her thoughts retreated inward at Samara's advice. After calming minutes, she shifted her weight, easing away from the wall of the ship. The bolts of the hull rubbed against her form fitting catsuit, tugging obstinately at the fabric on her arm, pulling it before the honeycombed suit snapped back against her. She scowled at the distraction and reached up to rub the annoying pick marring the perfectly fitted outfit. Sighing in resignation, she turned her back to the door and focused at the glimmering stars again. Her eyes randomly traced patterns in the starlight, connecting each star to form random visions of buildings, weapons or starships.
The door to the room opened and Miranda broke from her meditation with little movement. She sensed the presence enter the room, familiar in step and scent. Her eyes closed as he stepped behind her without hesitation and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her back into his chest. She caved back into him, quiet as she kept her gaze on the stars outside the window.
Shepard pressed a tender kiss to the soft flesh behind her ear, pride swelling at her uncontrolled tremble as he teased one of her more sensitive points. He smiled against the pulsepoint and he turned his head to follow her gaze out the window. "Sometimes I forget how amazing it really can be," he commented softly, voice deep and steady.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her tone detached and guarded.
"Space. The stars," he clarified. "Growing up in space, I guess it just doesn't mean too much anymore. You always see it. It's routine. But for someone from Earth … someone who spent most of their life on a planet, it must be amazing to wake up in the morning and see that." At her silence, he pressed. "You've been pretty quiet."
"I'm fine."
"I never suggested you weren't," he responded simply with a casual shrug. "But I'm more perceptive than you give me credit for. I need your head clear going forward. And it doesn't make you weak or anything like that if you share something with someone. That's how these things work you know. We help each other through problems. Hell, look at what you've helped me through. Let me return the favor."
"I don't have a problem," she defended, chin lifted in defiance. "I'm just thinking. I will be more than able to perform whatever duty or task assigned when the time comes."
"I need more than that, Miranda." he probed. "You've got to give me something." When she gave no response, he sighed and stepped away from her.
Heat leached from her and she exhaled slowly as his steps signaled his retreat. "You're taking David to the Alliance?"
He paused at her inquiry and glanced back over his shoulder, eyes focused on the cat-like line of her spine, hips then neck and head. "Yeah. They'll take care of him."
Nodding slowly, she shifted her weight, dipping her hip. "I'm just thinking about Oriana," she finally offered.
Shepard faced her but remained at the door. "She's safe. We made sure of it."
"I know," she said and turned away from the window, leaning back against the glass and enjoying the cool chill against her, penetrating through her suit. "I'm just thinking differently," she admitted with disdain and shook her head. "And I can't be. I need to stay focused."
"What do you mean thinking differently?" He crossed the floor and sat on the couch that faced the window, leaning back casually and crossed his leg, ankle resting on his knee. He gripped the raised ankle and watched her. "About what?"
"Everything," she answered with confusion. "Like David. I just don't understand how he could do that to his own brother. I think about Oriana …" she trailed off, and her head tilted back, pressed against the glass as she stared at a darkened corner of the room. "I could never do that to my own sister. I don't care what kind of genius or savant she was. How do you just plug her into a machine as if she were some advanced CPU and not feel any guilt?"
"How does Cerberus do anything it does? Look at the extremes. You've admitted so much yourself. Does it really surprise you that someone would go to these lengths for the insane experiment to speak to and control the geth?"
"The experiment is a viable experiment," she defended and turned her eyes to him. Bending her arm at the elbow, she pressed the backs of her fingers against her chin in thought. "If we could control the geth, can you imagine the asset at our control? We could use the geth as a major ground force against the Reapers and with them mobilized under the control of a human mind, we could organize them to a strength never seen before."
He frowned and uncrossed his legs, leaning forward with elbows rested on thighs. "But you were just thinking about David. How could you say that after what you saw they did to him in order to control the geth?"
"It bothers me that he did it to his brother, not that he did it. I never could put Oriana through that. A stranger? Or a willing volunteer? I wouldn't have hesitated."
"They shoved tubes down his throat and through every orifice of his body!"
"What do you think I did to you?" she countered calmly. "The first year of your reconstruction was not pretty and was likely painful to your nervous system. Your mind just doesn't know how to process it so likely you don't remember it. But there were tubes and probes and needles everywhere to sustain you while parts grew and the cybernetics replicated to repair irreparable tissues." She motioned to him with her hand. "You were not a willing patient, nor a volunteer. And look at the result."
"It's not the same." He pushed to his feet. "How do you compare a medical procedure to some insane assumption and power grab to control a race of Artificial Intelligence?"
"Of course it is. The purpose of the tubes and probes is the same. To sustain the body when normal sustenance cannot be used. Our goals are even the same. To find and develop - in my case reconstruct - items, weapons, assets and people to aid in humanity's struggle for survival and in this case with the coming war against the Reapers. Agree with him or not, the idea of controlling a computerized race of AI which is capable of weaponized warfare is a brilliant idea. Maybe not in the manner executed, but the idea is sound."
"Of course it's not sound," he tossed back with a scoff. "What happens when the human controlling the geth becomes power hungry? Or worse, indoctrinated by the Reapers?"
"That is why every project needs a kill switch. One that is readily available to pull if things get out of control."
"Like when Cerberus tried controlling biotics like Jack."
"Exactly," she confirmed with a confident nod. She sighed and turned from him to look back out into space. "I don't expect you to agree with me, Shepard, or even understand. In fact, I like that you don't. It is further confirmation that the Lazarus Project was a success and you are the same man you were before. Though you feel that sometimes you make heartless and cold choices, sacrificing people and things for the greater good, in the end you are still a paragon of virtue," the last three words delivered as a teasing jab. "You stand by your morals, the basis of what is good no matter the cost. And if you're forced to make a decision that sways and shakes the core of your good hearted faith, it haunts you." She paused. "My support of Archer's experiment and the work with biotics bothers you, doesn't it?"
"A little, yeah," he admitted and closed the distance between them to lean against the frame of the window, watching her expression. "And that you think you know so much about me."
"Don't act like it's not true," she replied. "I know more about you than you know about yourself."
Quirking a smile, he shook his head and crossed his arms over his chest. "Just because you can rattle off some list of bullet points out of a psych eval doesn't mean you know me."
"No, it doesn't," she agreed. "But I am not talking about medical evaluations, officer reports or your school grades. It was my job to study you, Shepard. To know you and everything about you. And in case you hadn't noticed, I'm very good at my job."
"So am I."
As silence lingered, extending beyond the point of comfort. Miranda stepped back, pivoting her hips to face him as she balanced on her back leg. "Then ask the question you're biting back."
He leaned closer. "Alright. If Overlord was your project, would you do to David what Archer did?"
"The answer's not that simple," she replied with a short shake of the head. "Archer made the wrong choice because there were too many variable he didn't calculate. His brother had the mathematical mind to meld with the geth but he was also fearful maybe even simple. Emotionally, he had no control or understanding of what was happening. All of those people are dead and the project terminated because Archer made a decision too quickly without weighing all the consequences. So to answer your question, no, I would not have put David into that contraption."
Shepard ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth in thought on the words before shaking his head. "How is it that you make such atrocious experiments sound acceptable?"
"I am not defending the experiment. I am defending the goal," she explained. "It is Archer's motives and his actions that you object to more than the concept of controlling the geth. Just like you object to the conditions you saw with Jack in that facility. You cannot hold an entire organization responsible for the acts of the few."
"You're ideological."
"So are you. We just use different vehicles."
He stepped towards her, his calloused hand resting gently on her stomach as he inquired. "You've terminated a lot of projects then, rogues and renegades?"
"I have," she nodded and leaned subconsciously into his touch. "More than I can count on my hands."
"I see. And what's my kill switch?"
She searched his eyes, resisting the answer before admitting in a soft whisper. "I am."
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