18 Days ASR

"Here, they had your favourites back in stock." Shepard flopped across her bed and shoved the sweets through the vent. When the torin on the other side pulled them through, she wriggled closer until she could see him. "Sorry it took so long. Every time I manage to hack into the security cameras, they upgrade. Took me three tries today."

She scowled into the vent cover. "Stealing these made me wonder though … . If you're the only turian here, why is there an entire dextro section of the kitchen?" The question pretty much answered itself, and she let out a long sigh that made light of the sick twist in her guts. There was no way in hell she'd leave anyone behind for the monsters to torture, but at the same time, breaking them all out meant massive intel gathering and planning. It also meant taking down the security in the entire place when she ran for it, which complicated things considerably. She and Al could slip away through ducts with a great deal less planning and fuss … and weaponry ... than she needed for a full scale jailbreak.

"And you're sure these are the dextro ones this time?" the gruff voice asked.

A wide grin spread across her face when she heard the wrapper rustling even before she answered. "I always get the dextro ones. Your little … issue the other day had nothing to do with me." She waved a hand in front of her face. "And the next time that happens, move your bed to the other side of the room. Seriously." Sitting up, she turned to hang her legs off the side of her bed. "My big score today was a half dozen peanut butter cookies, thank you very much kitchen staff."

She placed the napkin of ill-gotten sweets on the bed next to her, unwrapping it with exaggerated ceremony. Lifting one off the top, she saluted the camera with it then took a huge bite. After making a show out of chewing, she set the other half down and dove back into the basket on the front of her walker. She didn't really need to use it any more. The cane Miranda had given her made it easier to move around, but a low, suspicious voice in the back of her head told her to play down her mobility. Sometimes it paid to look a little weak, just like it paid to look crazy and out of control.

"You know they gave you that omnitool so you would practice your skills?" She heard him shift on his bed, a soft grunt of pain accompanying it. "And every time you hack the security, they just take it up a notch to challenge you."

An earnest nod tossed her curls around her face. "I know, and I'm happy to be their little maze rat as long as I can keep a step or fourteen ahead of them." She laid back across the bed and found him watching her. She gave him an upside down smile. "Come on, you know you loved listening to Miranda squeal when I broadcast that track of her singing in the shower."

His head dipped a little, but she caught the mandible flick that gave him away. She watched him for a moment, noticing the way he leaned into the wall more heavily than usual, the way his mandibles hung loose. His eyes, normally nearly blind from damage taken his implants were removed, seemed even more dull. She reached over her head and wriggled her fingertips through the grate.

"Hey, hang in there, Al. We're getting out of here."

Bare talon tips brushed over her fingers. "You're getting out of here, Shepard." He turned away and rolled over to lie with his back to her. "I'm here until there's so little left of me that they finally let me die and carve me up to stick in specimen jars."

Shepard slapped the grate, his words sparking both anger and the salty burn of tears in the corner of her eyes. "Hey! Stop talking like that. They're going to have a choice to make, and if they want Captain Shepard out there, they're going to have to release you as well." She sighed and flipped over to watch him—just a dim mound of grey in the even darker room. He kept the lights turned off, claiming to be sensitive to the brightness. She suspected that his aversion had more to do with being sensitive to having to see what they'd done to him.

His past couple of days had been spent fighting—a lot of hand to hand—and it showed. The days between, while they left their tech inside him, were good days. An overclocked metabolism and underclocked pain response combined with overstimulated hormones and adrenaline had made him aggressive, cocky, almost wild. Strong and manic, he paced his room like a caged lion, working out constantly even when they tried to sedate him, and wolfing down as much food as he could get his talons on. Before her hair dried from her last shower, he barked at her to shower again, particularly after she came back from physio, claiming that her scent drove him insane. His humour sharpened to a lusty, uncomfortable edge, and she swore if he could have gotten through the grate, things would have become … complicated.

That morning they'd stripped out all the implants, taken their pounds of flesh for testing, and then dumped him back on his bed, a husk so empty that she would have preferred needing to shower constantly and fend off his suggestive jests.

"Get some sleep," she whispered. She wished, and not for the first time, that she could offer any sort of comfort, to Al and to all the others locked in their dark rooms, recovering from whatever horrors the organization had visited upon them.

As she sat up, she savoured the pull in her stomach muscles. Unlike Al, she gained strength every day. She could argue with and resent a hell of a lot about her revival, but she had to admit, Miranda's nanites did good work.

Knuckles rapped against her door. Shepard pushed her walker off to the side, draping her nightgown over the basket to hide the contraband she'd scavenged from various computer terminals and power interfaces.

"Come in," she called, picking up the other half of her stolen cookie. A wry smile tugged at one corner of her mouth. Half of what she got up to out there she hid away like a paranoid mad scientist, only to flaunt the other half as noisily and obnoxiously as she could.

Miranda appeared in the doorway, surprising Shepard. The operative never knocked. "Shepard?" she said, without entering. "May I speak to you out here?"

Another surprise. "Yeah, sure." She shoved the rest of her cookie into her mouth, then slid off the bed. Opting for the cane combined with exaggerated hobbling and a dramatic lean, she made her way to the door and out. Miranda crossed the corridor, then headed toward the small nursing station/atrium twenty metres along.

Shepard followed, willing to indulge the woman's detective noir theatrics. Miranda might have found out something about what the organization was doing with Al. She might even have gone to her boss about the brutality of the torin's treatment.

The operative walked over to a large bank of windows and leaned against the railing, staring out into the black. When Shepard arrived, Miranda cast a glance her way before turning back to the stars.

Not giving Shepard a chance to speak, she asked, "Dr. T'Soni has assisted you in recalling most of the beacon message and cipher?"

"Yeah, and most of the parts of the messages that the rachni queen was able to help decipher." She scowled and hobbled over to a couch a metre away, sitting on the edge. "It's frustrating as hell though. It feels like I'm being shown half a movie. Like every time the camera cuts away to another character, the screen goes blank." She laughed, but it tasted worse than toothpaste and orange juice. "I'd almost think you'd told her to keep the other half hidden from me."

One of Miranda's shoulders twitched. "But you're remembering the Reapers?" she asked, soldiering on.

Cold dread skittered over her skin, an infestation of invisible rats gnawing and clawing as they burrowed into her flesh, eating their way through to consume her heart. "More and more. Not much that isn't fifty thousand years old, but yeah."

Miranda turned to face her. "I looked into Specimen Alpha's—"

Shepard clenched her jaw so tight that her teeth squeaked together. "Let's just call him Al, so we don't forget we're discussing a person, here," she said, slicing through Miranda's words with a keen-edged razor. "He's not an animated corpse. He's not some lab specimen. He's a torin, and he's in constant agony. Let's never forget that, okay?"

"Torin," Miranda repeated. "Curious that you use words from the closed dialect. Most people would just call him a man." Closing on Shepard by a couple of steps, she squinted down as if studying another lab specimen. "Where does that come from? Most humans, even 99.9 percent of asari don't know a single word of the closed dialect."

Shepard shook her head, impatience with the arrogance behind Miranda's comment overriding the question. "Who cares? Fact is, I know better and so should you. He's not a man. That's human anthropocentric bullshit." She cocked her head, glancing around as if she could find the reason for the conversation hidden somewhere in the environment, then looked back to Miranda, raised her eyebrows and shrugged. "Well? You didn't drag me out here to listen to a lecture about human-centrism. What about Al and the Reapers?"

Miranda glanced back out at the stars for a moment, then moved to sit on the edge of a planter, facing Shepard. "You stopped Sovereign from opening the Citadel to dark space, but they still have active agents in the galaxy who are working to find a way for the Reapers to return." She shrugged. "That is the reason we brought you back. You are the only human to have fought one, to have successfully out thought, out maneuvered it and then killed it. Still, the war hasn't even begun, and we need humanity's champion out there fighting them."

Shepard's eyebrows headed for her hairline. Other than saying that they needed her to do something, Miranda had never specifically said what. Although, Liara helping her pull forward memories of the beacon and cipher had given her a huge clue. "And?" Where the hell was Miranda going?

"Specim—" Miranda tilted her head, acquiescing to Shepard's furious glare. "Fine … Al is important to our research. You remember that Reapers indoctrinate and convert people into workers and shock troops?"

Shepard recalled the monstrosities that the Reapers had created from the Prothean Empire's different races, and nodded. "What does this have to do with Al?"

"The Reapers need to control all these units. We found implants within the skulls of husks collected from Eden Prime and the Citadel, and our scientists have hypothesized that the Reapers create ranks of command and control units." She raised one perfect eyebrow. "Do you follow?"

Shepard nodded, already not liking the shape of where the operative was headed. "Yeah, I'm with you." She didn't want to be, but she was.

In fact, she knew their hypothesis to be true. Three layers of command had existed among the Reaper units in Tashac's time. She'd witnessed the dissections, tried to block out the screams of the volunteers used in the feodusi's experiments. Her gut tied itself in a knot even before Miranda continued. The Reapers corrupted everything they touched, and not just the people they transformed or harvested. Their influence … fighting them had turned the already militant Prothean empire into a creature with so little honour that she couldn't help but think the Reapers had done the galaxy a favour.

Miranda's voice dragged Shepard from her thoughts. Damn. How long hadn't she been paying attention?

"Al's project is trying to discover a way to interfere with that signal, and turn it to work for us." The operative leaned her elbows on her knees and steepled her fingers. "He's proving invaluable, Shepard. He's actually taken control of active husks for short periods of time. He's helping us create better soldiers for a fight we both know is coming far sooner than we can prepare for it."

Shepard stared at the operative for a long time, her jaw hanging slack enough that a cool trickle of breath whispered between her lips. "So that makes it okay then? As long as we're torturing people in order to learn how to fight the Reapers, that's perfectly fine?"

Miranda let out a thin hiss of disapproval. "Not how I would put it, Shepard."

Standing, Shepard hobbled over to lean against the railing and stare out at the millions of diamonds hanging in the black. "No, but it's what you said, and it's what you meant. Plus, he's not human, right? Basically just a lab animal who can conveniently give verbal feedback." Her gut rolled, threatening to toss her cookie. "Sweet baby Jesus, what is wrong with you people? And when does it become too many people to justify? Ten torture victims? A hundred? A thousand? Is there no number that tips over to criminal?"

The operative let out another strained sigh, the only sign of her flagging patience. "Facilities like this one exist all over the galaxy, Shepard. They're run by governments, corporations … even the council. And you can guarantee that there are humans held in some of those, in just as much pain as Al."

A snort as sharp as a rifle shot escaped. "And that makes it even more okay. They do it, and worse, they do it to us, so that justifies everything." Shepard gritted her teeth to avoid saying all the ugly things that sprang into her mouth. She breathed through it, keeping herself under control. "There are alternatives to committing atrocities to combat atrocities."

Spinning around, she pinned Miranda with a furious stare. "And if you're going to give me the whole a few suffer so that millions don't have to spiel … just don't." She threw her hands out to the side, smacking her cane off the front of a chair. "And you want me to work with an organization that would torture innocent people? I won't." She shrugged and limped back to her chair. "I just won't. I'll go back to the Alliance, do what I can through them once I'm completely fit."

Miranda just stared, her one eyebrow slightly cocked. When Shepard sputtered to an indignant stop, the operative said, "I was working my way to a point if you stop ranting long enough to hear me out. This organization has ethical guidelines for the treatment of test subjects," Miranda continued, her voice as cool and slick as an otter's back. "And I don't believe that Al's project lead is adhering to them, so I've collected what data I could, and I'll be taking it to my employer later today."

Shepard gave a derisive puff of air and shook her head. "Could have led with that." She returned to her chair. "How many more are there, Miranda?" She nodded down the long hall leading the the elevator. "This station is huge. How many people work here? How many projects? How many other poor bastards like Al?"

The operative shrugged, but it came off overfaced, not indifferent. "I can't know, Shepard. I was in charge of Lazarus. The organization conducts research here in a hundred different branches from ship and weapon design to food preservation. Each has its own project head." She stood, elegantly unfolding in a way that made Shepard want to punch her. "Anyway, I wanted to let you know that I'm doing what I can."

Shepard nodded, her eyes drawn to the long hall by the appearance of a single blue figure. "Thank you for looking into it." Turning on a pale smile as Liara approached, Shepard let out a long, thin sigh. "But so you know … when I leave here, Al is going with me. Any other "specimens" that I find will be going with me as well."

She stood, holding herself straight and strong as she met Miranda's stare for a moment before turning aside to greet Liara. The asari closed, her posture and expression already screaming apology. Shepard let out a long sigh. As much as she appreciated Liara's assistance in recovering her skills and knowledge, the asari's constant demeanour of remorse wore Shepard out. Knowing that Miranda kept a huge chunk of her life held back caused enough inner turmoil and resentment. She didn't need the constant 'I wish I could but I can't' vibe coming off Liara.

Standing, she started back toward her room. She had a project to get integrated into her computer terminal before she headed down to the firing range for her favourite part of any day.

"Good afternoon, Shepard," Liara called, stopping at the door to Shepard's room. She held up a mock up of Shepard's old sniper rifle. "I thought you might like to do a little muscle memory work before you pick up the real thing."

Shepard took the rifle in her hands. "They sure studied me, didn't they?" She hooked her cane over her arm and stroked her fingers along the sleek lines. "It's almost identical to Ingrid. Not that I'll ever see her again." She winked at the asari and palmed the door control before taking her cane in hand again. "Come on in, Doc. Let's embrace that eternity." Shepard chuckled at the dark indigo that crept up Liara's cheeks and patted the asari's shoulder as she passed. "You blush worse than Kaidan."

Three steps into the door, she stopped, realizing that Liara remained standing frozen at the threshold. She turned back, brow furrowing. "Liara?" When the asari just continued to stare with what Shepard could only describe as terror etched into her features, the captain took a step toward her. "Seriously, Liara. You're freaking me out. What is it?"

"Kaidan," Liara managed to squeak out, glancing over her shoulder toward where Miranda had been. "You said I blush worse than Kaidan."

Shepard's frown intensified for a second, then broke into a wide grin.

She raised a hand and waved to Alenko over at his station. "Hey, Sport, suit up, and fill your pockets with singles. We're going out on the town."

"Singles, ma'am?"

"We're hitting a titty bar, Lieutenant. Got to be prepared." She laughed as Kaidan blushed a bright red. "Whoa! Damp that down there, Alenko. I'm getting a sunburn."

The man turned and fled for the elevator.

"Wow, note to self: can't tease that one. He'll burst into flames."

"Sport isn't right," she said out loud, squinting as she stared into Liara's eyes. "It's not the right name." She pushed at the white sheet, making it billow and snap like the laundry had when her mother hung it out in the summer wind.

"Shepard." Liara rushed in the door. "Maybe it's better if you don't try to remember." She glanced back toward the hallway again. "There will be lots of time for that once we get out of here."

The asari's tone snapped Shepard's attention back to her, the captain staring into those deep wells of blue, wells that closed off the second she made contact. "What?" She stepped into the asari, clamping one hand down on Liara's shoulder, the alarm in the back of her head screaming. "Why do you look so scared? Sweet baby Jesus, tell me they haven't been threatening you."

"No!" The expression of shock on Liara's face sent Shepard's protective reflex back into standby. "No, it's just that they don't want you remembering the Normandy yet, and I'm afraid that if you do, they'll … ." Her shoulders bounced heavily, once, her expression so earnest that Shepard almost laughed. Almost. Sometimes the asari came across very much her age - comparatively. Damn, she really still was just a well-grown child.

Liara reached out to take Shepard's hand between both of hers. "I don't know what they'll do, but maybe it's best if you wait to stir up those memories."

Shepard didn't move, watching the expressions play across her friend's face. She couldn't stop beating at the sheet, forcing it to give up …

Sparky. Not Sport … Sparky. He wanted something a little less eight-year-old T-ball player.

… it's secrets. Still, that didn't mean she had to let Liara know. Well, at least out loud.

"Okay." Shepard tugged her hand free and turned to hang her cane from the bed railing. "I won't push." She nodded her head toward the end of the room where they had enough room to move. "Let's get my muscles remembering at least." Standing close enough to the bed's footboard to catch herself, Shepard took a balanced shooting stance. She lifted her make believe Ingrid to her shoulder, couching the stock as comfortably as she could.

Liara's smile shone as she stepped up in front of Shepard. "Good. They're really pleased with your progress, Shepard. Your skills tested in the ninetieth percentile yesterday. Your assault rifle score was perfect." Warm, soft hands closed over Shepard's temples.

"Yeah, perfect." Shepard met the asari's stare. Try as she might to avoid flinching, each and every time Liara's eyes turned black and Shepard felt those fingers of consciousness crawl through her eyes and into her mind, she had to clench her teeth and lock every joint to keep herself from jumping away. Still, once the connection was made and Liara moved behind her, the light touch returning to Shepard's temples, it became bearable.

An image of a forest appeared in Shepard's mind and she shook her head, her mind telling Liara to find something else.

Not Mindoir. Never Mindoir.

"Apologies, Shepard."

The scene changed to an open desert under a full moon. Shepard grinned as she looked over the low scrub lands from atop a mesa. Arizona. Her father had taken them to the desert for vacation when she was twelve. Two adult coyotes and a trio of whelps trotted along a dry wash carved into the lowest part of the canyon. The adults tracked a scent, weaving back and forth, yipping softly at one another.

Movement in the scrub closer to her brought her rifle around. At the periphery of her awareness, she felt Liara moving inside her mind, slipping along the pathways that guided Shepard's hand to the manual focus on her scope. Most used autofocus and mods that adjusted aim for the shooter's biometrics … practically taking the shot for them, but not her. She thrived on setting up the shot, every detail an act of love.

A Mule doe browsed through mesquite, picking off the choicest bits. Shepard watched her for a moment, delighting in the way the muscles rippled beneath her hide, the bright sparkle of her eyes … the way her head popped up every few seconds, large ears swiveling around, attentive to every sound. Breathing deep, Shepard rooted herself, center of gravity lowering as her consciousness flowed down the barrel, an extension of her entire being as it crossed the distance between rifle and target. Settled, she let a long, slow breath out, then squeezed. The shot hit true, tearing through the mesquite leaf at the end of the doe's muzzle.

Leaping up, the doe pivoted in midair and bounded along the slope, disappearing into the night. Three more shots, three more victims exploded, green bodies strewn to the wind, chlorophyll soaking into the hungry sand.

"A little dramatic for some dead leaves. But fine shooting."

Shepard just grinned as the asari's thoughts brushed hers. "I didn't feel your influence after I started focusing," she said out loud as she lowered the rifle.

Liara released the captain's head and stepped around front. "You didn't need me. Those neural pathways are healed and active." Liara shifted from foot to foot, dipping her head a little as she spoke.

Odd how Shepard hadn't noticed before how the asari rarely stopped moving. When standing, she swayed like a poplar sapling in the breeze. Sitting, her hands and head remained perpetually in motion. Shepard smiled and reached out to grip her young friend's shoulder. "They're healed and active thanks in no small part to you." Her hands settled back to her fake rifle, holding it in a natural low ready, and for a moment, tears threatened, brought on by the most amazing feeling of rightness. Captain Jane Shepard, N7, had begun to assert herself.

Thank the sweet baby Jesus.

Liara glanced toward the door as if somewhere a clock ticked down on a curfew. "Will you join me in the commissary for the evening meal?"

Shepard grinned and held out an arm toward the door. "Sure, I'll meet you down there at 1830." At the threshold, she passed the asari the mock rifle. "Here, you'd better take it back since you signed it out. There's probably five forms to fill out if I sign it back in."

"In triplicate," Liara replied. She took the weapon and walked away two strides before she turned back. "You should probably watch walking around without the cane where the cameras can see you."

Shepard winced, but grinned. "Thanks, I'll remember that."

When Liara headed back on her way, Shepard hobbled back to her bed, using the wall as support. Stupid, forgetting to cover how well she could move. She remained a long way from her old strength, and would need the advantage of surprise if anyone came at her.

She frowned as she sat on the side of her bed and lifted the nightgown off her walker's basket. A variety of scavenged bits and pieces of tech lay in the bottom. She gathered them all up and placed them on her bed, then sat crosslegged with her back to the cameras. No doubt Miranda knew about the pilfered tech, bloody cameras watched from everywhere, but no need to give them a good look at what she was doing.

"What's this project?" the soft, raspy voice asked from the other side of the grate.

Glancing up to meet Al's stare, she smiled. "This little beauty is for you, actually. The plan is to link our omnitools so we can send information back and forth." She sorted through the pile for a micro transmitter and set to work. "I just need a couple of more components to be able to run a decent hack on their systems. I won't be able to get into anything secure, but I won't need to. I think I can figure out how many 'specimens' they're holding here just by checking the kitchen records, housekeeping … the unsecured systems."

He chuckled. "Do you think they realize how devious you are?"

A bright grin greeted that. "I sure hope not. At least not for a couple more days. I need to figure out a way to get us the hell out of here before they do." She glanced over her shoulder at the camera. "You getting all this? Jail break being planned, right here … right now. Take notes."

19 Days ASR

Shepard glanced across the desk at Liara, the asari engrossed in whatever she was doing. After a second, she sighed and turned back to her drudgery. Math tests. Funny, but she had a vague recollection of graduating high school in the distant past … back when she had pimples and arms and legs too gangly and awkward for her admittedly limited stature. She grinned. Oh … and back when Bobby Wilson occupied three out of every four thoughts. Good old blond haired, blue eyed Bobby Wilson. Best part of high school. She frowned, then popped her eyebrows. Only good part of high school, actually.

Focus, dammit. Do the damned test so you can get down to the range and do something that will actually prove useful.

Shepard flipped down the screen, checking off the answers. All of them insultingly simple algebra and calculus for an engineer. She checked off a few wrong answers just to keep her jailers guessing, then submitted it. Leaning back in her chair, she stared at Liara, wiggling her eyebrows, sticking out her tongue … flaring her nostrils. The asari remained oblivious.

"No damned fun," she sighed and looked back down at her monitor.

A message along the top read, "Shepard, stop throwing in wrong answers. Score: 100."

Shepard slapped the back of her hand over her mouth to hide her grin. Her adversaries proved cagey ones. Yesterday, Miranda had known when she skewed the results of her shooting test, and now even Kelly was catching on to her. She stared at the letters glowing on the screen and wondered how many of her other secrets weren't secrets. Hopefully the modifications to her computer still slipped beneath the operative's all-seeing notice. The footage she looped through her room's security cameras took a great deal of ingenuity to do well. She'd had to splice days worth of tedious tasks and reading to create a new hour long movie every day.

"Staring into space won't get you released any sooner." Liara glanced up, a slight smile tipping off the corner of her mouth.

"What are you working on?" Shepard leaned, craning to see around the large vid screen. Whatever it was, it couldn't possibly be more boring than the incessant testing. After reading a few lines backwards, she reconsidered.

"I'm working with a human researcher by the name of Dr. Garret Bryson," Liara replied, surprising Shepard, who never expected to get an actual answer. The asari grinned, obviously excited. "We're looking into cross-cultural legends of space-faring monsters."

"Oh!" Shepard grinned. "Looking for the giant squid behind our Reaper Kraken?" Her heart sped up, her fingers and face tingling as the implications registered. "That's brilliant," she replied.

"You can thank Joker." Liara turned her monitor sideways so they could both look on. "It was his idea to see if we could track down Reaper corpses." Her grin widened. "Anyway, Dr. Bryson made contact with an eccentric volus billionaire by the name of Kumun Shol. Shol claims that a vision of some higher power told him to go to Klencory to find the lost crypts of the beings of light. These beings of light were embroiled in a war against evil machines bent on destroying all life."

Shepard considered the asari, a thoughtful frown creasing her brow, her eyes narrowing as if to peer straight through Liara. "Protheans? The crypts of the beings of light could be a Prothean archive or something."

Liara nodded and brought up a surface scan of the planet. "Klencory is a toxic, horrible world, so everyone thought he was mad, but he sent us these scans yesterday." She pointed to an area where the rock and ice definitely looked to be shaped by hands rather than nature. "What if it is a bunker like the one on Eden Prime?"

Shepard's eyebrows rose as her memory triggered. "Whatever happened with that find? Did you get into the area that still had power?"

Anger cut through Liara's smile, her face darkening. "Yes. I sent them funding and a dig team to help. They'd just excavated that section when a whole series of equipment malfunctions kept them out of the area for a couple of days. Despite their security, when the team went back in, they discovered that someone had removed one of the stasis pods."

"What?" Shepard lunged forward in her chair a little. "Was there any sign the pod was functional?" The possibilities roared inside her skull like a surging tide.

"Impossible to tell," Liara replied, "but there were a lot of intact pods in that section that appeared to have been deactivated over time in order to conserve power for the unit that was taken, so my guess is yes, it had power. If the prothean inside was alive … ." Hunching a little as she shook her head, Liara looked down keying in commands to change the monitor view to a closer scan, then overlaid another scan.

"This second scan is the Eden Prime site," she said.

"They're almost identical." Shepard stood and leaned closer, reaching up to trace the lines with a finger. "There could be living protheans under there." A slow, calculating smile bloomed as she slipped back into her chair. Other protheans … a faint sigh greeted that thought. Protheans … even a few last remnants having survived the extinction … . Yearning, sweet and aching, swelled in her chest and burned behind her eyes as Tashac keened … a low, tremulous chant of longing for her mate's hand, warm and gentle against her face … for children long passed to dust … for the lilting song of her language. Shepard's eyes closed as she pushed back the prothean's memories, refusing to shed tears for losses fifty thousand years distant.

Why are you so far away from him when he is just a few memories away?

Shepard gave her head a hard shake as she opened her eyes and focused on her computer. "Sounds like a promising lead," she said to Liara without looking up. Time to focus on getting free and back to her own life … a life only two years dead. A life where she'd actually be able to go to Klencory and see Kumun Shol's discovery with her own eyes.

A message awaited her, flashing on the monitor. Yet another test, but at least that one actually posed a challenge requiring more than two brain cells firing at the same time. Emergency vehicle repairs, defusing explosives, hacking through layered encryption … the work of the combat engineer. She set to it, wading into it like a lake in August, finding the familiar work welcoming and refreshing. From the moment Miranda woke her up, Shepard hadn't experienced very many moments of feeling competent or even whole. For the most part, frustration at the lack of all her defining characteristics, skills, and abilities dogged her every faltering step. Until the last couple of days she felt like Frankenstein's monster in truth: all parts and pieces stitched together but none belonging to the rest or to whom she used to be.

She finished the engineering test, her heart light, her fingers quick and steady over the interface. Jane Shepard had come back from the dead, maybe not whole … maybe not brilliant and maybe not happy, but at least she was reaching functional. She could work with functional. She could make a start from functional.

A test of problem solving and strategic planning followed the engineering quiz, then one on history and the Alliance.

Shepard looked down the questions on the formation of the Council and Spectres and turned to the camera. "Okay, this is taking the whole high school thing too far. History? I remember high school, Dr. Kelly. I swear … you make me go through puberty again, I'll strangle you with Miranda's catsuit."

The screen flashed. "Promises. Promises."

Halfway through the test her omnitool zapped her … a sharp sting against the soft skin inside her wrist. "Ow," she grumbled softly, rubbing it. A single line message appeared to let her know that her hack was complete. She closed the message. It would have to wait until her tests and shooting practice and physio finished for the day. Damn. She glanced toward the bathroom. It would only take a second … .

Yeah, a second to discover enough to pique your interest and make it even harder to get through the next couple of hours. Focus, damn it. You're getting somewhere. Don't blow it.

"So this worm of yours discovered a lot of dextro food coming in as well as food sterilizers?" Al shook his head as he shifted, trying to find a comfortable position. "Sterilizers could mean a couple of things but most likely quarians."

Shepard pointed to a couple of other supplies she found suspicious, but couldn't for the life of her figure out why. "These supplements … I know I've seen them before." She beat at her memory, but didn't manage to get past the word on the tip of her tongue stage.

She moved down to the daily allotment of food going to each of many rooms "So, either there are small villages staying in some of these rooms, or they are running some pretty overclocked biotics."

Al chuffed and straightened a little. "I don't eat like these people are."

Shepard laughed and stuck her fingers through the grate to stroke his jaw. "Not on days like today, but when you were all super-turian, I swear they just chucked whole space cows in there for you to gnaw your way through."

He chuffed again, but a chuckle followed close on its heels.

She let out a slow sigh, glad that he had recovered enough to show some humour. Focusing back on the small screen, she went down the list.

"Okay, so there are at least thirty of us." She let out a long, slow breath. Damn, so many. Too many. "I can't see them caring enough about my cooperation to allow me to blackmail them out of thirty projects. You and maybe a couple more … sure, but not thirty."

"So you leave them behind."

The skin between her brows and around her eyes pinched into a pained grimace as she leaned down to meet his stare. "Not acceptable." His mandibles fluttered, melting away her frown. "Oh, I see how it is," she said and chuckled. "Manipulate Shepard out of her funk. Very nice." Still, his ploy worked, as ideas about how to organize a mass breakout began to flow. Being trapped on a space station proved the most formidable hurdle. Turning everyone loose on a planet … sure, but there they'd all just get recaptured.

"It might be impossible to get everyone out of here, Shepard." Al's milky eyes stared into hers, no sign of manipulation in his expression, just the ugly truth. "What about getting out and coming back? Bringing council authorities or Spectres?"

"Nothing's impossible, Al. Nothing. If I have to bring this entire place down around their ears, I'll do it." She fixed her attention back on the camera, a cold smile cutting across her face. "And you know I can, don't you?"

(A-N: All the love and thanks to everyone who drops by to read. I really hope you're enjoying the story. Sassy is on the verge of making her move ... breaking out ... making a run for it.

Just a quick shout out for the reviews. imjusttori, SilverBladeStar, RoaringGamer, Master of The Blood Wolves, Alpenwolf, KrystylSky, CordovanLily, Yellohead, dracohalo117, and Lady Velvet C. Peterson. You know I love hearing from you.)