I was undergoing my N7 augmentations when I met Ellen again. That'd be Ellen Ryder, the woman that basically became a surrogate mother for me after the divorce. We'd kept in touch, but being able to see her in person again was a joy. It was only somewhat tempered by the fact that Ellen wasn't there at the hospital as my attending physician, she was there as a patient herself.
Ellen, she had recently been diagnosed with very early-stage cybernetic sclerosis. It's an extremely rare condition, happens only to people with neuro-link implants like biotics or synchronizers. Even then, the odds are something like one in ten thousand. But, Ellen was one of those ones. And there's no cure for the disease. Not even now. Anyone that gets it, it's a death sentence. There are treatments that can delay things, buy time. And Ellen, she lived with that disease longer than anyone else. Set a hell of a record. That alone makes her the strongest woman I've ever met. Stronger even than me. Cause if it were me? If I ever became one of those one in a thousand? I don't think I could put up with wasting away like that. I'd want the end to come quickly, cleanly.
Maybe if I had someone else to fight for, someone that I wanted to be there for, no matter how much it hurt. But I don't. Not anymore at least.
-Evangeline Shepard, Mandatory Counseling Log 012
Chapter 11
Ab inconvenienti
Due to their proportions relative to the rest of their body, many people made the mistake of thinking krogan arms were stubby little things that were of limited reach and utility. What those same people failed to realize was that those arms were as packed of muscle as the rest of the several hundred kilos of mass. That was why, despite the padded gloves Grunt was wearing, surrounding Shepard was the purple sheen of a biotic barrier to absorb any punches the krogan might land. As for Grunt himself, that was certainly amongst the sounds he made every time Shepard landed a blow.
"That's right, keep your eyes on me," Shepard said. "Predict where I'm aiming for next, don't let me get in-"
A dull thud sounded as Shepard landed a solid blow upon the krogan's side.
"-like that."
"GRAAAAAAH!" Grunt roared.
The krogan did not try lashing out haphazardly however. Instead he took the blow, maintaining his guard so Shepard could not get a follow-on in.
"Good," the colonel said. "Now show me what you've got."
That elicited a wide grin as Grunt took that as an invitation to attack. He lunged forward, but Shepard neatly sidestepped the jab. She likewise did not launch a counter, instead continuing to dance around the larger krogan. Grunt turned about, managing to stay on Shepard. His next attack came from the left, a feint to draw the colonel's attention as he launched a right hook. Shepard however was ready, stepping aside from the left while providing a solid block to stop the right. Then her own right shot in, socking Grunt square in the face. The krogan actually stumbled back from the hit, Shepard having put a bit of force behind the blow. That was of course far from enough to make Grunt back down. Glaring at Shepard fiercely, Grunt waddled side to side, his bulk resulting in a discernable lack of grace compared to the manner in which Shepard danced around him. Still, his motions were smooth and he kept his guard up, blocking another punch throw by the colonel and launching a quick counter.
A thunk marked the blow landing, followed by another one almost immediately as Grunt launched a flurry of follow-up attacks. The krogan advanced with every punch, doing his best to make sure Shepard could not retreat out of his range. The colonel was not without tricks of her own however as she suddenly launched an uppercut right in between his jabs, catching Grunt squarely under the chin. That broke his charge, letting Shepard land three more heavy blows and knocking Grunt onto his ass. No mean feat, considering how much less the woman massed compared to the hulking krogan. Of course, her augments plus a bit of help from her biotic barrier served as decent equalizers.
"Not bad," Shepard said as Grunt pulled himself back up. "You're getting better at not rushing headlong into every match."
"More fun that way," Grunt said with a grunt.
"If you do that under live fire, you won't be having fun for very long," Shepard said, taking off her boxing gloves. "Alright, you're up, Jacob."
The former marine stepped up, touching his gloved fists together.
"Never boxed a krogan before," he said. "Not sure anyone but you'd come up with the idea, Colonel."
"First time for everything," Shepard said, and then to the krogan in question. "Alright Grunt, the name of the game is to avoid getting hit by Jacob here. Just because he's not as augmented as me doesn't mean you should underestimate him, so don't disappoint."
"Got it," Grunt said.
The two bumped gloves and assumed ready stances.
"Fight!"
True to his aggressive nature, Grunt went on the attack first and launched a powerful jab down the center. Jacob ducked and weaved, evading the subsequent punches as well as he worked to open up some distance to prepare for a counterattack. Grunt was however making sure to keep close, taking the lessons from his matches with Shepard to heart. His opponent was also finding the krogan was much faster than his bulk would otherwise imply. Still, Jacob's smaller size did offer him some advantages, as he ducked and managed to zip behind the krogan. Spinning about, he launched a left hook that should have nailed Grunt right in the side as he likewise turned about, but the krogan reflexively had his guard up and blocked the blow. His own fist followed, Grunt using the motion of the turn to add further momentum and socked Jacob a good one in the stomach. A violet light flashed as the barrier took the brunt of the impact, but Jacob still took a moment to recover.
"Ooof!" the man let out. "Man, even with the barrier, I felt that one."
"There's a lot more where that came from too," Grunt said with a cheerful grin.
"Yeah, well, we'll see about that," Jacob's own competitiveness asserting itself.
The two circled each other, Jacob hopping a bit to stay light on his feet, while Grunt kept himself anchored in preparation to launch himself at the first opportunity. Shepard herself kept a steady eye on Grunt in particular, to watch for any missteps the krogan might make so that she could better instruct him afterward. While this was Jacob's first time sparring with Grunt, the colonel had already put him through his paces several times now. It had become quickly apparent after Grunt's decanting that they needed to occupy the juvenile's time with something lest he go stir-crazy while they were in transit, and since there was not enough room on the Normandy to run proper drills, doing some biotic boxing was the next best thing.
Not surprisingly, Grunt had taken to the sport rather enthusiastically, giving as good as he got and not seeming to terribly mind getting banged around when he did lose. And being a krogan, he did have some natural advantages that played well with the sport.
"Raaaaaawr!"
"Oh shit!"
Back peddling as fast as he could, Jacob was still too slow to avoid the charge as Grunt threw his entire mass forward. The impact sent Jacob flying quite a distance until he landed on his back. Grunt stood there triumphantly, fist raised high from the uppercut he used to launch Jacob back. He then looked over at Shepard, as if waiting for her praise.
"I see you're a quick study," the colonel said. "Jacob, you alright?"
"Yeah," Jacob said with a groan. "Ow. Maybe. That felt like getting hit by a tank even with the barrier."
"Hah, if anything, the tank'd be the one getting hit," Grunt said boastfully.
"I've hit enemies in a tank before," Shepard said. "Take my word for it, Grunt, one's slightly less of an immovable object versus the unstoppable force. Alright, while Jacob is sleeping it off, let's go over your form. You have a tendency to charge straight ahead, which is fine until you end up getting flanked. Also once you're locked into an attack, you ignore everything else, which is why you keep getting sucker punched by my uppercut."
Shepard took a stance in front of Grunt.
"Get your guard up."
The krogan obeyed.
"Alright now, you're going to just stand there and focus on blocking. Ready?"
"Ready."
"Ready?"
"Ready."
The display was showing the training session Shepard was holding down in the docking bay, while the watchers were in Miranda's quarters. The woman in question herself was seated at her desk, while Kelly stood behind.
"The krogan hasn't shown any indications of rebellion or defiance?"
"No ma'am," Kelly answered. "At least nothing beyond a general competitiveness that all members of his species seem to possess. He has however adhered to Colonel Shepard's orders whenever she deigns to issue them."
"I see," Miranda said. The woman did not sound entirely satisfied but did not press any further on that particular point. "And what of the rest of the crew?"
There were of course others she needed to delve into first.
"So far the crew is acclimating quite well together," Kelly said. "The imperial servicemembers settled into a cohesive group almost immediately, likely helped by many of them having served together before. It's taking a bit longer for them to open up to the civilian contractors we brought on to supplement the crew, but with a few exceptions, they are learning to trust one another."
With one of those exceptions being Miranda herself, was the unspoken insinuation. While Shepard might have willingly accepted command of this mission and otherwise conducted herself with laudable professionalism, it was undeniable that there remained a degree of separation between herself and Miranda, despite Miranda being officially the second in command. The naval crewmembers seemed to have instinctively picked up upon this separation and so held Miranda at a similar remove, even if they did not let it get in the way of their day-to-day work. Still, this did mean that if those crewmembers felt there was a problem, they were more inclined to go to Shepard than Miranda, even if it was her job to deal with such minutiae so that the colonel could handle the big picture. In that regard, their ambiguity towards her was getting in the way of Miranda doing her job properly.
There was no quick fix to that however, and ultimately the only real solution was to get Shepard to trust her. Not just trust in the utilitarian sense, wherein the colonel could trust her to know where to point a gun while out in the field. No, Miranda needed Shepard to trust her on more strategic matters, and also on matters moral and ethical. That was going to be extremely difficult, seeing the near contempt the colonel seemed to hold for Cerberus as a whole. A part of Miranda found this immensely frustrating, considering the colonel had so readily accepted the organization's offer of help. Another was genuinely worried that even this seeming cooperativeness was really Shepard opening up a backdoor that would allow the imperial government, or at least the emperor, to impose a greater degree of control and oversight over Cerberus, which would put the colonel's acceptance into a much different, and less hypocritical, light. A more dangerous one, even.
"The colonel remains adamant about not accepting any counseling sessions with you?" Miranda asked next.
"I've not broached the subject since her initial refusal," Kelly said. "To be frank, Ms. Lawson, I don't think it would be wise to make another approach without the colonel herself indicating willingness. She was, quite blunt about her inability to trust my impartiality due to my affiliation, however informal, with our sponsors."
Miranda grimaced at the reminder. The conversation between Kelly and Shepard had been, like much of everything else that went on aboard the Normandy, recorded, so Miranda had had ample opportunity to review it. When Kelly mentioned to Shepard that part of her duties included providing counseling services to the crew and that the colonel herself was welcome to book a session, Shepard had stated very bluntly that she could not trust the yeoman to not pass on information gained via these sessions that would then be used by Cerberus to try to psychologically manipulate her. It was a rather harsh accusation to level at the otherwise amiable young woman, and under any other circumstances Kelly would have had ample reason to take offense. Indeed from Kelly's perspective, Shepard's caution bordered on outright paranoia, in which case trying to actively dissuade her of her suspicions would only cause the colonel to dig her heels in.
From Miranda's perspective, it was less a matter of Shepard being paranoid, Cerberus most definitely would have sought to influence her to become more sympathetic to its aims by whatever means were available. It was more how stubborn Shepard was being in absolutely refusing to countenance Cerberus' aims, a stubbornness bordering on outright zealotry or fanaticism. The colonel was so absolutely certain in the rectitude of her methods, and of her goals, her desire for vengeance notwithstanding, that she absolutely refused to consider that the other side might have a point. Or rather, that the other side's point, however valid, was not good enough. Getting through that level of obstinateness was going to take a lot of patience.
Back on the screen, Miranda watched as Grunt weathered the blows from the punches Shepard threw at him. The krogan was bearing the attacks with remarkable discipline, offering only a grunt or two even when the colonel got through his guard to land a punch. From the slight glow of her gloves, Shepard was not holding back either, adding to her already augmented strength with a biotic touch. In a way, such fine control was equally as impressive a display on Shepard's part as Grunt's fortitude.
Still, for all that Grunt seemed willing to heed his battlemaster's instruction, he was still a krogan, and a relatively immature one at that. While he was at no significant risk of suffering actual debilitation from Shepard's punches, each one that successfully landed still hurt, and the pain was grinding down upon his self-control. Eventually, just as happened with Jacob, Grunt let out a roar and launched a counterattack against Shepard. The colonel's response however was instant, and at a speed that the camera actually failed to fully capture it. One moment Grunt was lunging forward at Shepard, the next the krogan was flat on his ass.
"What did I say, Grunt?" Shepard demanded, foot on the krogan's chest. "Stand there and focus on blocking. And what did you do?"
"Grr, what's the point of just standing there and taking it?" Grunt however was not about to just quietly take her admonishment. "It's not like I'm going to just sit there and let someone keep shooting at me all day without shooting back!"
That earned Grunt a solid thump of Shepard's boot on his chest. Were he a mere human, that would probably have constituted mistreatment by the colonel. With a krogan, that was the absolute minimum Shepard could get away with to assert her position.
"And what happens if you're not facing just one enemy? What happens if the battle you're fighting doesn't end merely because you killed the first one you saw taking a shot at you? How long do you think you can last if you're under fire for hours on end? Or days? Or even weeks?"
Grunt looked up at Shepard, this time not quite able to muster a response.
"You're not some lone warrior fighting one-on-one duels, Grunt," Shepard continued. "You are part of a team, fighting with others against others. If you succumb to the temptation of taking every shot you see, what happens if your target's buddy was lying in wait for you to do just that and pots you from behind? What happens when if by taking the shot, you take your eyes off of your squad mate whose back you were supposed to have, and they get taken out as well? That means as important as it is for you to hone a killer instinct to drop any enemy that crosses paths with you, it's just as important that you can roll with the punches, keep taking them, because you don't know when they might stop, and you don't know when you need to act even while the punches are still raining down."
The colonel finally took her boot off the krogan's chest.
"Still, I know it can get boring if you're forced to just stand there and take a beating," Shepard said. "So let's do it this way. Every twenty punches that you're able to block from me during a session, you get to throw one back at me."
To that Grunt grinned as he pulled himself back up.
"But if all you do is throw a punch back for every twenty of mine," the colonel wasn't done yet, "we'll go right back to you not getting any at all. Show me you can actually make use of opportunities instead of merely making them. Got that?"
"Got it," Grunt's head bobbed up and down.
"Colonel," Joker's voice suddenly sounded, the pilot apparently making a PA call down to the hanger bay. "We're inbound to the Omega relay, but there's a lot of comms chatter that I think you'll want to get a heads up on."
"Roger that, Joker. I'll be up in a bit," Shepard said, then pointed at Jacob. "Every forty blocks with Jacob. Don't disappoint me, either of you."
And proceeded to leave the two to continue their training.
Back in her room, Miranda locked her terminal and headed for the cockpit herself, while Kelly trailed behind towards her own station. Seeing as Shepard would need to come up from a lower deck, Miranda beat the colonel handily to her destination.
"Wait, why are you up here?" Joker asked, not even deigning to turn about to face Miranda as she approached.
"I am the ship's executive officer," Miranda said. "Anything that warrants Colonel Shepard's attention likewise warrants mine."
"If you say so," Joker said, not sounding at all convinced.
Miranda frowned. This was a perfect example of how the naval crewmember's distrust of her could seriously impact her ability to perform her duties.
"I do say so, Mr. Moreau," Miranda stated. "And I will expect you to make a proper effort to keep me better appraised in the future. This ship may not be a commissioned naval warship, but we do have a chain of command that you are to adhere to. Am I clear?"
"Ma'am, yes ma'am," Joker said, still not turning about and with more than a hint of sarcasm in his tone.
Before Miranda could upbraid him further however, Shepard arrived.
"What do we have, Joker?"
For all the head start Miranda had, Shepard was no slowpoke.
"Ma'am," Joker began, sounding much more sincere with the courtesy this time, "there seems to be some sort of emergency at Omega. Medical emergency, by the sounds of it. EDI could probably explain it better."
The two women looked over at the projected avatar.
"Well, EDI?" Shepard prompted.
"There appears to be an extremely lethal plague spreading on Omega," the AI began, "one that thus far has been 100% lethal. Curiously, while the virus affects multiple species, including both dextro and levo ones, humans thus far do not appear to suffer from its effects."
That saw Shepard glance aside at Miranda. The other woman scowled.
"This is not a Cerberus operation, Colonel, of that I assure you."
"I would hope not, considering pissing off Omega at this point in time would be extremely inconvenient," Shepard said. "How far has the plague spread?"
"Omega's various authorities have jointly imposed a lockdown on the affected sections and seem to have it under control," EDI stated. "They appear to be waiting for the plague to burn itself out."
"Any hints as to where this plague came from?"
"None, Colonel. We would need to get closer to the station before I could attempt to penetrate their databanks for more intel."
"Noted," Shepard said. "Joker, let me know once we're in comms range. Something tells me I should have a chat with Aria before we try docking."
"Aye, Colonel."
"Ms. Lawson, walk with me."
Miranda fell in step next to the colonel as they left their cockpit.
"A plague that's cross-species and yet doesn't harm humans," Shepard said. "Unless Cerberus has access to way more advanced biotech than I've ever heard of, this wasn't your org."
"If you already knew this, then why the accusatory look?" Miranda asked somewhat tartly.
"I'm allowing for the possibility of you surprising me," Shepard said. "Setting that aside, who can you think of might actually have that sort of tech?"
Suppressing her irritation, Miranda considered the question. "Are you suggesting the Collectors?"
"That seems highly probable," the colonel said. "It's a pretty aggressive play though, going after all of Omega like that. Even if the Collectors were able to do a sweep of the humans after they got rid of the other races, do they have the manpower to hold it from all the other interests that'd pile in trying to retake the station?"
Count on Shepard to consider the logistical angle of any military operation. While the colonel might have never served with the quartermaster corps, she was still quite cognizant of the challenges in keeping a large military force properly supplied.
"Assuming the Collector's homeworld is on the other side of the Omega-4 relay, Omega itself is only a short hop away, no?" Miranda pointed out.
"A short distance only helps if you have the reserves to actually move," Shepard said. "How big a fleet do you think they'd need to deter the rest of the Terminus Systems?"
That was certainly a point.
"What do you think is the objective, then?" Miranda asked.
Shepard pursed her lips. "I don't know. A trial run, maybe, in preparation for wider deployment of this plague? If they're just interested in seeing how effective it is, then the close distance would be an advantage."
That made a modicum of sense, but as Shepard's own uncertainty indicated, it was still just a hypothesis without much in the way of supporting evidence.
"In the meantime, hit up your contacts," Shepard ordered. "See what intel they can dig up about this plague. All the better if anyone has actual scans of it. This plague might not affect humans the way it does the other species, but we shouldn't assume it doesn't affect us at all."
"And you, Colonel?"
"I'm going to have a little chat with Dr. Chakwas, see what options we have for containment and decontamination. The last thing we need is for the Normandy to accidentally become a plague carrier."
A very good point, that one. Hopefully whatever measures the good doctor could come up with would be enough, as otherwise their mission might be over before it really even started.
"The most effective means of preventing transmission of this disease aboard the Normandy is to avoid any of the crew contracting it in the first place," Chakwas said. "Normally that would entail not going into any infected hotspots, but something tells me that's not likely to be an option."
"It'll depend on where Garrus and this Dr. Solus have holed up," Shepard said. "And knowing Garrus at least, he'll be wherever the trouble is thickest."
"Naturally," Chakwas said with a resigned sigh. "In that case, I would suggest trying to limit how long you remain in the operational area to however long your suits' internal oxygen supplies can last. If you can avoid breathing in any of the pathogens, that should allow you to avoid becoming a carrier of the disease, even if it does not harm you like the other races. Decontamination can then be done by simply washing your suit or running it through a radiation sweep."
"Do we even have any way of doing the latter?" Shepard asked.
"Not immediately at hand," Chakwas said with a shake of her head, "but I can probably rig something up using the radiotherapy equipment I have."
"See to it," Shepard said. "We'll need it by the time we arrive at Omega."
"I'll see what I can do," Chakwas said. "Though if any of you do get infected, our options for taking you aboard for treatment are limited. The biggest problem is going to be the lack of space that can serve as a dedicated quarantine chamber aboard the Normandy. You could probably improvise something onboard a cruiser, but frigates tend to be a bit too snug for that."
"What about a shuttle?" Shepard suggested. "The cockpit and the passenger cabins can be isolated from each other, so returning teams can be decontaminated in the latter."
Chakwas stroked her chin. "That might work. For that matter, it would probably be better to keep everyone suited up and the cabin as a whole depressurized to better limit the risk of airborne transmission. That would allow those uninfected to disembark, and myself to embark after suiting up, to attempt treatment."
"Or move the infected and put them in cryo to transfer to a proper hospital," Shepard said, then flashed a wry smile. "If this thing is really as dangerous as it sounds like, the Normandy may not be equipped to deal with it. No offense, Doc."
"None taken," Chakwas returned the expression. "If you are able to find any additional information about this disease, I can at least take a look at it to see if I can offer further suggestions."
"So you won't be developing a cure after getting the genetic sequence of this pathogen?"
The doctor gave a bark of laughter. "My degree is in the medical sciences, Shepard. I may have taken a few classes in pharmacology or molecular biology as part of my coursework, but that doesn't mean I acquired the corresponding degrees as well."
"No, collecting multiple doctorates seems to be more of an asari or salarian thing," Shepard said. "Hopefully our salarian doctor is still around for us to pick his brains."
"Here's hoping," Chakwas agreed wholeheartedly.
Taking her leave of the infirmary, Shepard headed up a deck and entered the communications room where Miranda was waiting.
"Were you able to dig up anything useful?" the colonel asked immediately upon entering.
If Miranda was at all bothered by the lack of a preamble, the woman did not show it. For that matter, the colonel's no-nonsense business-like demeanor was one of the qualities in Shepard that Miranda did not object to.
"Only a very basic dataset, unfortunately," Miranda responded with equal promptness, "and much of it unconfirmed. Its emergence was recent enough that few organizations have picked up on it, much less have any opportunity to directly investigate. The best we've got are some epidemiological statistics on rates of infection and incubation time."
Shepard frowned as she plopped into her seat. "Do we at least know if the disease is airborne?"
"A tentative yes is all we have."
"Lovely," the colonel growled. "Time to symptoms showing?"
"Current numbers indicate an average of twelve hours, it seems to depend a bit on the mass and metabolic rate of the infected."
That elicited another frown. "Time till death?"
"Anywhere from three days up to a week."
"Twelve hours," Shepard repeated the first number. "That's a remarkably short incubation time."
"It certainly makes it easier to identify victims and quarantine them," Miranda said. "Not very helpful if the goal is widespread infection."
With such a short incubation time before symptoms manifested, there was not much time wherein a person could act as an unknowing carrier. Once the travel time between interstellar systems was taken into account, an infected crew was more likely to die before reaching their destination than further spread the disease.
"Unless they don't want it to spread," Shepard said. "Unless it's intended for local breakouts only."
"Even localized, under the right circumstances it would still be an extremely effective weapon," Miranda said. "And in that regard, it might actually be better for the plague to be fast acting. The sooner the opposition is incapacitated, the sooner you can take over whatever is your target."
"Such as the remaining humans?"
Miranda gave a shrug there. "We have been postulating the possibility of Collector involvement."
"Nothing in your intel dump pointing any fingers?"
To that Miranda visibly shook her head. "I would not rate any of the speculation as more than wild conspiracy theories, even the ones that make mention of the Collectors."
Shepard drummed her fingers on the table. "Something feels off."
The other woman tilted her head. "In what way?"
"The Collectors have always operated in the shadows in the past, behind or through proxies that otherwise hide their involvement. Even these colony abductions, they've gone to fairly extreme lengths to hide their involvement. Omega though, it's too prominent. It's not known as the dark mirror of the Citadel for no reason. News might not yet have filtered out to the wider galaxy, but it's only a matter of time. Any attack on the station is going to draw massive amounts of attention, and every intelligence agency in the galaxy is going to go over every last detail with a fine-toothed comb. Even with their capabilities, can the Collectors really allow that much attention to be drawn to one of their operations like that?"
"What are you suggesting, Colonel?"
Shepard pursed her lips. "EDI, how many humans are resident on Omega?"
"Estimates are upwards of eight hundred thousand," the AI answered.
"Assuming the Collectors have some specific need to that all the abducted humans are supposed to help meet," the colonel said, "there is presumably some point wherein they'll have enough humans for, whatever. Being able to capture the eight hundred thousand humans on Omega would produce almost triple the number of number of abductees. How much closer would that get the Collectors to their goal?"
Miranda regarded the colonel with a contemplative expression. The way in which Shepard could so clinically, even indifferently, discuss the abduction of nearly a million human beings, the outcome of which almost certainly involved them being experimented on and ultimately killed, would have perturbed more sensitive souls. While this might have perturbed some, Miranda for one recognized such levelheadedness as essential for making decisions that stood any chance of averting such an outcome. Becoming panicked and agitated merely at the prospect of such bloodshed merely increased the chances of making an irrevocably fatal decision. The colonel clearly possessed the sort of levelheadedness necessary to arrive at the most optimal outcome when faced with hard calls, as evidenced by her actions on Torfan. Yet when Cerberus made similar such decisions, Shepard seemed to be full of nothing but reproach. Miranda wondered whether the colonel was aware of this self-hypocrisy. Perhaps the other woman's pride prevented her from attaining this realization. Maybe breaking that pride would be necessary to get Shepard to face the reality that was Cerberus' necessity. Though doing so prematurely might compromise the chances of their current mission. Miranda was patient though, she had not risen to her present rank by taking overly rash actions motivated by petty emotions. She could wait until Shepard's own necessity had lessened to the point where greater risk could be taken in how the woman was handled.
"Without knowing what that goal might be, we can only speculate," Miranda stated frankly. "Though even without a full understanding, it would behoove us to disrupt anything that might bring the Collectors' plans closer to fruition."
"That is certainly true enough," Shepard said, though the flicker in her eye suggested there was yet more that tickled the colonel's intuition. What that might be however she kept to herself. "Whether we can stop it is another matter entirely. We're a covert ops strike team, the limits of our ability to handle a bio-contagion outbreak is to cauterize it with shipboard weapons. And in that regard, Omega's own local authorities are probably better equipped to carry out that task."
That was probably true, the pirate organizations headquartered on Omega were at least guaranteed to have lots of munitions to do the burning with.
"The issue is going to be if our extraction targets are in the infected zones," Shepard said.
"They certainly would not be terribly useful to us fatally infected," Miranda said bluntly.
"And it would be equally pointless if we were to lose Grunt to this disease," Shepard responded without missing a beat, "because just deploying the human contingent of the squad isn't enough."
The reproach was hardly subtle, nor was the jib about their competency. While all three humans were highly competent and deadly in their own right, an openly acknowledged problem was indeed their still small numbers. Grunt's addition, while not as useful was the hoped for inclusion of Okeer, was still valuable merely for increasing their numbers by one. And with the krogan's natural battle prowess, they could be assured that this addition would indeed be a plus. The issue now however was whether they could even make use of him.
"If Grunt were to wear a proper airtight suit, he need not be exposed to any pathogens in the air," Miranda suggested. "And while the Normandy does not have anything EVA rated for a krogan, it should not be too difficult to procure something on Omega."
"Huh, that's a thought," Shepard nodded. "Though once the shooting starts, it might not be possible to guarantee the integrity of whatever he's wearing."
To that Miranda could only shrug. "If our purpose for bringing the krogan is for battlefield augmentation, that is likely inevitable. If he can at least be convinced to refrain from engaging the enemy in melee, that might reduce the chances of something piercing his suit."
Shepard gave her knuckles a crack. "We'll play it by ear. I don't want to take needless risks with anyone, but if it turns out there's a big enough prize waiting for us, I'll throw as many of us as necessary into the meatgrinder."
While such pragmatism might be necessary considering the threat they were facing, Miranda still felt a slight shiver at hearing those words, considering Shepard's past instances of doing just that. Cool and efficient as she was, Miranda still valued her own life enough to not be particularly enthusiastic about it being endangered, whatever the necessity might be.
Of course even with this determination, there remained the issue of whether they could actually get aboard the station. With the current situation, what passed for the local authority was likely not too keen on seeing more human ships arrive, especially ones with the background the Normandy had. As the saying went, deciding on a course of action was the easy part. Now they actually needed to do it.
"We're approaching the station," Joker announced over the intercom.
With the qualifier that they were approaching Omega in astronomical terms. That meant the station itself was still quite some distance, and therefore time, away, but they were at least close enough now that traffic control inquiries could be expected. A hive of scum and villainy it may be, practical considerations like making sure ships didn't run into each other when docking was something even Omega's residents needed to worry about.
Of course if the Normandy was close enough to Omega for the station's minders to notice, that meant Omega itself was close enough for those aboard the Normandy to also get a good look at. The massive station looked rather mushroom like, what with the bulbous asteroid sitting atop a massive cylindrical column protruding out. A soft red glow at the neck of the column, along with a ring of long rods jutting out from the rocky surface, created a rather ominous impression.
"Tactical analysis?" Shepard asked.
"Multiple kinetic batteries have been detected along the central spire," EDI reported, "though there appears to be a relative dearth of point defense emplacements."
"Typical," Shepard said. "They splurged for the big guns to show how tough they are, but then skimp on the small stuff that is actually useful."
There were of course a few more defensive emplacements than just the kinetic batteries. Various spokes poking out of the main superstructure were clearly antennas, with the telltale emissions of sensor arrays and targeting systems. Further afield in the space surrounding the station were a few low-observability platforms, likely mines guarding against approaches toward more vulnerable sections of Omega. Then there were the ships. A steady stream of freighters could be seen along predefined lanes leading to and away from the station, while the odd warship or two, albeit of older make than what served in frontline navies, flitted about in more haphazard fashion. If the plague was at all causing activity on the station to drop, there at least seemed no discernable impact upon the space traffic around Omega.
"Those that resort to piracy as a profession do often feel a need to overcompensate," Kelly said from her terminal.
The snort was the only concession to the chuckle that Shepard otherwise suppressed.
"Have they noticed us yet?" the colonel instead asked.
"We've sent a few pings requesting docking clearance," Kelly answered, "but so far all we've gotten are automated busy responses." The redhead tilted her head. "Usually it's the other way around, traffic control is the one that has to send a few pokes before someone bothers responding when this far out."
"Maybe on civilian ships," Shepard said. "Any watch officer that is so inattentive traffic control has to make multiple queries would get written up at the very least."
"Well, a greater degree of vigilance is certainly necessary aboard military ships," Kelly said.
"And the Normandy is military, whatever our official cover says," Shepard said, "so I better not see any such slackness either."
"Of course, Colonel." A beep sounded at the woman's terminal. "Oh, we have a response! Oh, umm, I think you should take this one, Colonel."
Not the most formal way of transferring communications, but Shepard paid the lapse little heed. After all, the purple tinted asari that appeared on her station's display looked monumentally pissed. Not that Shepard could blame her, considering the situation down on her station.
"Ms. T'Loak," the colonel greeted. "I must admit, I was not expecting communications to escalate so quickly up the chain."
A snort sounded. "I've found that the quickest way to cut all the bullshit is to deal with matters personally. And you, Major Shepard, are no small matter."
"Lieutenant-Colonel, actually," Shepard corrected.
"Ah, so the Empire gave you a shiny new badge for bagging Saren. Well good for you. Now, what the hell do you want?"
If there was one person that could guarantee Shepard never setting foot upon Omega, it would have been Aria T'Loak, the station's pirate queen. Conversely if there was anyone that could ensure Shepard passage onto the station, and more importantly, off again once the colonel's mission was complete, it would be Aria. While the asari did not control the entirety of Omega, hers was the most powerful of the various syndicates that operated there, making her a first among equals. That meant if Shepard wanted to get to Garrus and Mordin, she would need to cut a deal with Aria. Or make sure the existing one had not been reneged.
"I have some business on Omega," Shepard thus answered, honestly if still a bit reservedly, "business that should not impinge in any way upon your own affairs. In light of this plague situation that I just recently found out about, I would however like a confirmation that the arrangement between Cord-Hislop and your organization is still in effect."
"By 'this plague,' you mean the one that most everyone thinks is a human plot to try to seize Omega?"
Shepard waited a beat before responding. "What matters is whether you count yourself amongst those everyone, Ms. T'Loak."
The asari gave another snort. "I'm not one to fall for unsubstantiated rumors, Shepard. And I don't attribute magical powers to those that don't have them. If the Empire had the tech to engineer a disease like this, I'd have heard about it already. Not even your STG wannabes could pull something like this off."
"STG wannabes, I'll have to remember that one," Shepard said with a slight smirk.
"Glad you find some cheer in all this. And yes, my deal with your bosses still hold, but that still doesn't mean now's a good time for you to just drop in. Even if humans aren't likely to actually be behind this damned plague, you lot aren't exactly very popular right now."
"I can imagine," Shepard said. "Unfortunately, the business I have can't be delayed. That being said, if there is a way to expedite things, I'd be able to be on my way faster."
Aria regarded Shepard for a moment. "So what are you here for then? Exactly, and without the doubletalk bullshit."
It was now or never.
"I'm looking for a salarian, Mordin Solus," Shepard said, taking the risk that revealing that much would not end up biting her in the ass. "You wouldn't happen to know where he might be?"
The expression on Aria's face was now contemplative instead of outright dismissive, the asari clearly knowing something and considering how best to take advantage of the situation.
"Alright, Colonel," Aria finally said. "I think I can help you with your little errand, and you can help me with a little errand of my own. I'll even throw in your turian Spectre friend as a bonus."
It looked like there was little point in trying to keep quiet about Garrus' presence. Aria's intelligence network was clearly on top of things, doing their part keeping her in power.
Shepard leaned over the console. "I'm listening."
"Not over comms," Aria said however. "This channel is supposed to be secure, but I'm not going to trust something this sensitive to anything except a proper face-to-face."
"So I take it we have clearance to dock?"
"One of my men will meet you when you do," Aria more or less affirmed. "He'll bring you to me."
"Any etiquette I should be aware of in your house?"
A slight smirk saw Aria's lips quirk upward ever so slightly. "There's only one rule that you need to adhere to on my grounds, Shepard. Don't. Fuck. With me."
"Straight and simple," Shepard said. "Shouldn't be too hard to keep to."
"See that you do," Aria said.
The screen went blank as the asari terminated the connection. Shepard took a deep breath, bracing herself against the station.
"We've received docking instructions," Kelly announced.
Shepard nodded. "Joker, take us in."
"Aye ma'am."
"Miranda, I'll want you with me when I go meet Aria," the colonel continued. "Jacob, Grunt, get kitted out, heavy tactical load."
"We expecting a fight, Colonel?" Jacob asked.
"Aria seems to have a problem that she thinks I could be of some use dealing with," Shepard said.
When put that way, mere expectation turned into a surety. Grunt could actually be heard chuckling in anticipation.
"Are we sure Aria can be trusted?" Miranda said.
"No," Shepard responded without missing a beat, "but that doesn't necessarily mean she'll automatically betray us either. So long as we're mindful of what her interests are and don't come into conflict with them, we can probably get what we need and get out in one piece." The colonel shrugged. "Failing that, we burn down however much of Omega we need to in the process of getting out."
A certain amount of bravado that may be, no one doubted that any confrontation between Aira and Shepard would be destructive in the extreme. As such, it was actually very much in everyone's interests to not let such a thing come to a head. Of course, this being Omega, Aria was certainly not the only thing they would need to watch out for. And at the end of the day, there was still that plague to deal with. There was little need to taunt Murphy, Omega itself had chaos enough to ensure any plan laid would go awry. The only question that remained was how badly.
End of Chapter 11
A bit of pot versus kettle with Miranda's assessment of Shepard. We'll see how long it takes to melt the ice there.
Yes, I'm still around. No, this story hasn't been abandoned. There was however a small, incident, that severely demotivated me from continuing to work on it. Nothing related to the readership, and I don't intend to talk about it out of professional courtesy to the other involved parties, but it did take a while for me to feel an inclination to come back to this story.
For the short term, I still don't have much time to actually dedicate to this story, not with Meridian also ongoing, but I'll try to get in bits and pieces as I can. Part of the issue is the fact that I haven't been able to quite map out what I want to happen in the interim in between the major set piece missions. Horizon, the Collector ship, even the endgame, I know exactly how I want those to unfold. The missions in between? Less so. One of the problems is, to be honest, a lot of the ME2 missions felt, contrived in their setup. Even more so than in ME1. It also didn't help that the tone of the main story didn't mesh very well with the objectives of those side missions. Or even a lot of the teammate loyalty missions, for that matter. I'm still sorting out how I'm going to integrate them, the ones I bother with.
The first half of the Honor Harrington series, yes, I'll take that as a compliment. The second half, I'd have a bit more mixed feelings about.